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Hunting the Skipper: The Cruise of the "Seafowl" Sloop, a fiction by George Manville Fenn |
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Chapter 17. Overhauling A Stranger |
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_ CHAPTER SEVENTEEN. OVERHAULING A STRANGER It was the very next morning just at daybreak that the lookout on the fore-top hailed the deck with the inspiriting cry that sent a thrill through all who heard, and brought the officer of the watch forward with his glass. "Sail ho!" A short inspection sufficed, and the news hurried the captain and Mr Anderson on deck. "A schooner. The same rig!" exclaimed the captain, without taking his glass from his eye. "What do you make of her, Mr Anderson?" "A schooner, sure enough, sir. The same heavy raking spars and spread of sails. It looks too good to be true, sir." "Hah! Then you think it is the same craft?" "Yes,--no--I daren't say, sir," replied the lieutenant; "but if it is not it's a twin vessel." "Yes," said the captain, closing his glass with a snap. "We'll say it's the Yankee slaver, and keep to that till she proves to be something else." Holding to that belief, every stitch of canvas that could be crowded on was sent aloft, and a pleasant breeze beginning to dimple the water as the sun arose, the spirits of all on board the sloop rose as well. Soon, however, it began to be perfectly plain that the schooner sighted paid no heed whatever to the sloop of war, but kept on her course, sailing in a way that proved her to be unusually fast and able to hold her own so well that the spirits of those on the _Seafowl_ began to sink again. "Now we shall see what she's made of, Dick," said Murray excitedly, when a blank charge was fired. "Made of impudence," said Roberts quietly; "but there's no doubt about her being the craft we want," he continued, "for she means to set us at defiance, and she's going to make a run for it, and you see if she doesn't escape." "If she does," cried Murray impetuously, "I shall say it's a shame for the Government to send the captain out with such a crawler as the _Seafowl_. Why, for such a duty we ought to have the fastest sailer that could be built and rigged." Directly after, there was another gun fired from the sloop, and the course of the shot sent skipping over the sea could be traced till it sank to rise no more, after passing right across the schooner's bows. The men cheered, for in answer to this threat of what the sloop would do with her next gun, the schooner was seen to glide slowly round into the wind, her great sails began to flap, when in quick time, one of the cutters was manned, with the second lieutenant in command of the well-armed crew. Roberts had been ordered to take his place in the stern sheets, and as he descended the rope he darted a look of triumph at Murray, whose face was glum with disappointment as he turned away; and as luck had it he encountered Mr Anderson's eyes. "Want to go, Mr Murray?" he said, smiling. "Yes, sir, horribly," was the reply. "Off with you, then. Be smart!" The next minute the lad had slipped down by the stern falls to where the officer in command made room for him; the hooks were cast off, the oars dipped, and the stout ash blades were soon quivering as the men bent to their work with their short, sharp, chopping stroke which sent the boat rapidly over the waves. "I don't see the Yankee captain," said Mr Munday, searching the side of the vessel, which was now flying English colours. "You think that fellow with the lugger was the captain?" asked Murray. "Not a doubt of it," was the reply. "I wonder what he'll have the impudence to say." "He'll sing a different song, sir," said Roberts, "if he is on board." "If? Why, of course he'll be on board; eh, Murray?" "Most likely, sir; but won't he be playing fox in some fresh way? He may be in hiding." "If he is he'll come out when he finds a prize crew on board, and that his schooner is on its way to Capecoast Castle or the Cape. But I don't see him, nor any of the sharp-looking fellows who formed his lugger's crew." "No, sir," said Murray, who was standing up shading his eyes with his hand. "I hope--" The middy stopped short. "Well, go on, sir," cried the lieutenant--"hope what?" "That we are not making a mistake." "Oh, impossible! There can't be two of such schooners." "But we only had a glimpse of the other, sir, as she sailed down the river half hidden by the trees," said Murray. "Look here, Mr Murray, if you can't speak sensibly you'd better hold your tongue," said the lieutenant angrily. "The captain and Mr Anderson are not likely to make a mistake. Everybody on board was of opinion that this is the same vessel." "Then I've made a mistake, sir," said the midshipman. "But that can't be the skipper, sir," and he drew attention to a short, stoutish, sun-browned man who was looking over the side. "Of course it is not, sir. Some English-looking fellow picked to throw us off our guard." But the officer in charge began to look uneasy as he scanned the vessel they were rapidly nearing, till the cutter was rowed alongside, several of the crew now plainly showing themselves and looking uncommonly like ordinary merchant sailors as they leaned over the bulwarks. Directly after the coxswain hooked on, and the lieutenant, followed by two middies and four of the well-armed sailors sprang on board, to be greeted with a gruff-- "Morning. What does this here mean?" "Why didn't you heave to, sir?" cried the lieutenant sharply. "'Cause I was below, asleep," said the sturdy-looking skipper. "Are you the captain of that brig?" "No, sir. What vessel's this?" "Because," said the skipper, ignoring the question, "you'd better tell your captain to be careful. He might have done us some mischief. Any one would think you took me for a pirate." The lieutenant made no reply for a minute or two, being, like his two young companions, eagerly scanning the rather slovenly deck and the faces of the small crew, who were looking at their invaders apparently with wonder. "Never mind what we took you for," said the lieutenant sharply, and in a tone of voice which to Murray suggested doubt. "Answer me at once. What schooner's this?" "Don't be waxy, sir," said the skipper, smiling good-humouredly. "That's reg'lar English fashion--knock a fellow over, and then say, Where are you shoving to! What's yours?" "H.M.S. _Seafowl_," said the lieutenant haughtily. "Now then, will you answer?" "Of course I will, Mr Lieutenant. This here is the schooner _Laura Lee_, of Bristol. Trading in sundries, machinery and oddments, loaded out at Kingston, Jamaica, and now for the West Coast to take in palm oil. Afterwards homeward bound. How does that suit you?" Roberts and Murray exchanged glances, and then noted that the men were doing the same. "Your papers, sir," said the lieutenant. "Papers?" said the skipper. "All right, sir; but you might put it a little more civil." "I am doing my duty, sir," said the lieutenant sternly. "All right, sir, all right; but don't snap a man's head off. You shall see my papers. They're all square. Like to take anything? I've got a fine bottle or two of real Jamaica below." "No, sir; no, sir," said the lieutenant sternly. "Business if you please." "Of course, sir. Come along to my cabin." "Lead on, then." The skipper took a few steps aft, and Roberts followed his officer, a couple of the sailors closing in behind, while two others with Murray kept the deck in naval fashion, though there seemed to be not the slightest need, for the schooner's men hung about staring hard or leaned over the side looking at the men in the cutter. "Here, I say," said the skipper sharply, "I should have thought you could have seen plain enough that what I said was quite right. What do you take me for? Oh, I see, I see; your skipper's got it in his head that I'm trading in bad spirits with the friendly niggers on the coast yonder; but I ain't. There, I s'pose, though, you won't take my word, and you've got to report to your skipper when you go back aboard." "If I do go back to report, sir," said the lieutenant. "If you do go back, sir? Oh, that's it, is it? You mean if you take my schooner for a prize." "Perhaps so, sir. Now then, if you please, your papers." The skipper nodded and smiled. "All right," he said; "I won't turn rusty. I s'pose it's your duty." The papers were examined, and, to the officer's disappointment, proved the truth of the skipper's story. "Now, if you please, we'll have a look below, sir," said the lieutenant. "Very good," said the skipper; and he hailed his men to open the hatches. "You won't find any rum puncheons, captain," he said. "I do not expect to, sir; but I must be sure about your fittings below. This schooner has not been heavily rigged like this for nothing." "Course she arn't, sir. I take it that she was rigged under my eyes on purpose to be a smart sailer worked by a smart crew. But my fittings? Here, I've got it at last: you're one of the Navy ships on the station to put down the slave-trade." "Yes," said the lieutenant shortly. "Then good luck to you, sir! Hoist off those hatches my lad; the officer thinks we're fitted up below for the blackbird trade. No, no, no, sir. There, send your men below, or go yourself, and I'll come with you. You've got the wrong pig by the ear this time, and you ought to be off the coast river yonder where they pick up their cargoes. No, sir, I don't do that trade." The lieutenant was soon thoroughly satisfied that a mistake had been made, and directly after, to his satisfaction, the skipper asked whether the captain would favour him with a small supply of medicine for his crew. "I'm about run out of quinine stuff," he said. "Some of my chaps had a touch or two of fever, and we're going amongst it again. It would be an act of kindness, sir, and make up for what has been rather rough treatment." "You'd better come on board with me, and I've no doubt that the captain will see that you have what is necessary; and he will be as apologetic as I am now for what has been an unpleasant duty." "Oh, come, if you put it like that, squire, there's no need to say any more. To be sure, yes, I'll come aboard with you. I say; took many slavers?" "No; not one." "That's a pity. Always search well along the river mouths?" "Yes." "Hah! They're about too much for you. Now, if I was on that business, say I was on the lookout for these gentlemen, I shouldn't do it here." "Where, then?" said the lieutenant eagerly. "Well, I'll tell you. As I said, they're a bit too cunning for you. Of course you can sail up the rivers and blow the black chiefs' huts to pieces. Them, I mean, who catch the niggers and sell 'em or swap 'em to the slave skippers; but that don't do much good, for slavers slip off in the dark, and know the coast better than you do." "Yes. Well, what would you do?" said the lieutenant eagerly. "Do? Why, I'd go across to the plantations, sir, and lay wait for them there. They wouldn't be half so much on the lookout." "There's a good deal in what you say, sir," said the lieutenant thoughtfully. "But where would you watch--round Jamaica?" "Nay-y-y!" cried the skipper. "I'd study up my charts pretty thoroughly, and then cruise about those little islands that lie nigh the Cays. There's plenty of likely places where these folk land their cargoes; and you'd find them easier to work than the West Coast, where there's a wilderness of mangrove creeks and big and little rivers where a slaving schooner can lie up and hide. You go west and try. Why, I could give your captain half-a-dozen plantations where it would pay him to go--places where I've seen often enough craft about the build of mine here." "Indeed!" cried the lieutenant. "Yes, sir," said the skipper thoughtfully. "Why, of course; I never saw before how likely you were to take me for one of 'em. Well, you want to go, so I'll have one of my boats lowered down and come over to your brig. I'll ask your skipper for a bit of quinine, and then if he'll lay out his charts before me, I'll put his finger upon three or four likely spots where the slavers trade, and if he don't capture two or three of their fast boats loaded with the black fellows they've run across, why, it won't be my fault. I should like to see the whole lot sunk, and the skippers and crews with them. Don't sound Christian like o' me, but they deserve it. For I've seen them landing their cargoes. Ugh! It has been sickening, and they're not men." The skipper's words were broken in upon by the report of a gun from the _Seafowl_, whose commander had grown impatient from the long delay of the boat; and hence the imperious recall. Captain Kingsberry's countenance did not look calm and peaceful when the boat returned, but the clouds cleared away when the skipper came on board and a long conversation had taken place over the charts of the West Indian Islands and the Caribbean Sea. "Quinine, captain?" he exclaimed at last. "My good sir, you may have all the medicine--well, nearly--that I have on board!" "Thankye, sir," said the bluff skipper, laughing. "Enough's as good as a feast of that stuff." "And I'm very sorry," said the captain politely, "that I had to overhaul your schooner." "I arn't," said the skipper. "I'm very glad, and thankful too for the physic stuff. Fever's a nasty thing, sir, and as I said, I'm very glad. Good luck to you, sir, and good-bye." "There's no doubt this time, Mr Anderson," said the captain, as soon as the skipper had gone over the side, "that man's as honest as the day." "That he is, sir, and so is his schooner." "Yes, Mr Anderson. Now, then, let's go back to those charts, and we'll then make right for the plantations. I begin to think that we shall do some business now." _ |
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