Chapter 15. An Exciting Time

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_ CHAPTER FIFTEEN. AN EXCITING TIME

About mid-day there was a sudden lull. The wind blew nearly as hard as ever, but the clouds were broken up, allowing a few gleams of sunshine to pass through, and soon after the sky seemed to be completely swept; the streaming wharves and streets began to show patches of dry paving, and nearly every vessel near was hung with the men's oilskins, Rodd being one of the first to shed his awkward garments and come out looking more like himself.

There was such a transformation scene, and all looked so bright in the sunshine, that the boy took the first opportunity to ask the skipper what he thought of it now.

"Just the same as I did before, my lad," he replied bluntly. "Here, it's only mid-day, and mid-day aren't to-night, and to-night aren't to-morrow morning. Just you wait."

"Oh, I'll wait," said Rodd, "but I think we ought to start off as soon as we can, and get right away to sea."

"Do you?" said the captain gruffly. "Well, I don't."

After dinner Uncle Paul had a few words with the skipper, and then shook his head at his nephew, who was watching them inquiringly.

"No, my lad," he said, "it won't do; the captain says there's more bad weather coming; but we'll go and have a look round the town if you like."

Rodd did like as a matter of course, and with the sun now shining brightly as if there were no prospect of more rain for a month, they were rowed ashore, Rodd noticing as they went that the crew of the brig seemed to be very busy, a couple of boats going to and fro fetching stores of some kind from the nearest wharf, but what he could not make out.

Then came a good ramble through the busy place, where everybody seemed to be taking advantage of the cessation of the storm, and Rodd noted everything to as great an extent as a hurried visit would allow.

There was plenty to see, the forts, one each side of the harbour, and a couple more on the higher ground, displaying their grinning embrasures and guns commanding the harbour and the town, while soldiery in their rather shabby-looking uniforms could be seen here and there, and sentries turned the visitors back upon each occasion when they went near.

"Rather an ugly place to tackle, Rodd, from the sea, but I suppose our fellows wouldn't scruple about making an attack if there were any need. But here, I think we had better get back on board."

"Oh, not yet, uncle. I haven't half seen enough."

"But I am getting sick of this tiresome wind," said Uncle Paul. "One can't keep on one's hat, and it is just as if these gusts were genuine French, and kept on making a rush at us from round the corners of the streets as if they wanted to blow us into the harbour."

"Yes, it is rather tiresome," replied Rodd. "But I should have liked to have had a look inside one of those batteries."

"Pooh! What do you want to see them for?"

"Why, just because they are French, uncle."

"Nonsense! You have seen all ours on the heights of Plymouth, and they are a deal better-looking than these. We have a good way to walk, so let's go down at once. There, look yonder."

"What at, uncle?"

"What at? Why, at the clouds gathering there in the wind's eye. You see Captain Chubb's right, and we shall have the rain pouring down again before long."

Rodd laughed as if he did not believe it, but making no farther opposition, they began to descend towards the harbour; but before they were half-way there the wind had increased to a furious pitch, the sea became a sheet of foam, and with wonderful rapidity the clouds had gathered overhead, till a black curtain was sweeping right over, and a few heavy drops of rain began to fall. Then down came a drenching shower, and they were glad to run for refuge to the nearest shelter, which presented itself in the shape of a great barrack-like building that seemed to be built about a square, and at whose arched entrance a couple of sentries with shouldered muskets were pacing up and down.

As Uncle Paul and Rodd approached at a trot, with the intention of getting under the archway, both sentries stopped short, and one of them held his weapon across breast high, scowling fiercely, and barred their way.

"Here, it's all right," cried Rodd. "We only want to shelter out of the rain for a few minutes;" and he pressed forward. "Come on, uncle. Never mind him!"

"_Halte la_!" cried the sentry.

But Uncle Paul's hand went to his pocket, and drawing out half-a-crown he pointed quickly at the falling rain and the archway under which they now stood, taking out his handkerchief the while, and beginning to brush off the drops which bedewed his coat.

The man glanced at the coin, then at his brother sentry, and both looked inward at the square behind them. The exchange of glances was very quick, and then the first sentry opened one hand, but kept it very close to his side, again looking inward to see that he was not observed, before grumbling out--

"_Eh bien! Restez_!" And then as if perfectly unconscious of the bribe he had received, he resumed his slow pace up and down under the shelter of the great archway.

It was all a matter of minutes, but long enough for the wind and rain to have gathered force, and while the former raved and shrieked, down came the latter in a sheet, or rather in a succession of sheets which made the roadways seem as if full of dancing chess pawns, and the gullies turn at once into so many furious little torrents tearing down the slopes towards the harbour.

"Nice, isn't it, uncle?" said Rodd merrily.

"Nice!" grumbled Uncle Paul. "I don't know what I was thinking about to give way to you in such treacherous weather. Why, it's worse than ever. How are we going to get back to the schooner?"

"Oh, it will soon be over, uncle, and if it isn't we must get to know where the nearest place is from that sentry, and make a rush for it to get some tea, and wait there till the shower is over."

"Shower!" said Uncle Paul. "It looks to me like a night of storm coming on, and as if we shan't get back to the schooner to-night."

"Well, it doesn't matter, uncle," cried the boy coolly. "There's sure to be a good hotel, and Captain Chubb will know why we haven't come back. As soon as there's a bit of a lull we will make a run for it, and we shall be able to get a lesson in French."

"Bah!" said Uncle Paul impatiently. "How the wind comes whistling through this archway! We shall be getting wet even here."

The two men on guard were evidently of the same opinion, for they turned to their sentry boxes and began to put on their overcoats, after standing their muskets inside.

But before this was half done, each snatched up his piece again and faced the entrance, for all at once there was the clattering of hoofs in the cobbled paved street, and a cavalry officer, followed at a short distance by a couple of men, dashed up to the front and turned in under the archway, drenched with rain, the officer saying something sharply to one of the sentries.

The man replied by pointing to a doorway at the back of the great entrance, while the officer swung himself from his horse, threw the rein to one of his men, and then lifting his sabre-tache by the strap he gave it a swing or two to throw off the water from its dripping sides, and then opened the great pocket to peer inside as if to see that its contents were safe.

The next moment, as if satisfied, he let it fall to the full length of its slings, gave a stamp or two to shake off the water that dripped from him, and then raised his hands to give a twist to the points of his wet moustache. He scowled fiercely at Rodd the while, and then marched towards the doorway with the steel scabbard of his sabre clinking and clanking over the stones.

"Pretty good opinion of himself, Pickle," said Uncle Paul quietly.

"Yes, uncle; but what a pair of trousers--no, I mean long boots--no, I don't; I mean trousers.--Which are they, uncle?" added the boy, who was rather tickled by the size and the way in which they were finished off at the bottoms with leather as if they were jack-boots.

"Wait till he comes out, Pickle, and ask him," said the doctor dryly.

"No, thank you, uncle; my French is so bad," said the boy, with his eyes sparkling. "But, my word, they must have been galloping hard to escape the rain! Look at those poor horses. They are breathed."

Rodd had hardly spoken when they became fully aware that they had taken refuge in the entrance to the town barracks, for the notes of a bugle rang out, echoing round the inner square of the building, and seeming to be thrown back in a half-smothered way from wall to wall, while the wind and rain raged down more fiercely than ever.

"Something must be the matter," said Rodd, with his lips close to his uncle's ear.

"Seems like it, boy. That officer must have brought a dispatch."

The object of the bugle was shown directly, for in spite of the rain the interior of the barracks began to assume the aspect of some huge wasps' nest that had suddenly been disturbed.

Soldiers came hurrying out into the rain, hurriedly putting on their overcoats; the great arched gateway filled up at once with men seeking its shelter, and the sentry who had received his half-crown came to roughly order the English intruders to go elsewhere; but it was only outside militarism, for he said in a low hurried tone in French--

"Run outside to the end of the barracks. Grand cafe."

"Come along, uncle. Never mind the rain," cried Rodd, catching at his uncle's wrist, as he fully grasped the sentry's meaning; and stepping outside the archway they ran together, or rather, were half carried by the shrieking wind, for some thirty or forty yards, almost into the doorway of a large lit-up building, for already it seemed to be almost night.

"Never mind the rain, indeed!" grumbled Uncle Paul. "Why, I'm nearly soaked. Oh, come, we have got into civilised regions, at all events;" for a couple of waiters, seeing their plight, literally pounced upon them and hurried them through the building into a great kitchen where a huge fire was burning and the smell of cookery saluted their nostrils.

The attentions of the waiters of what was evidently one of the principal hotels of the town were very welcome, and a glance teaching them that their visitors were people of some standing, they made use of their napkins to remove as much of the superabundant moisture as was possible, and then furnished themselves with a fresh relay to operate upon their backs.

"Queer, isn't it, uncle? I am quite dry in front. My word, how the rain did come down!"

"Messieurs will dine here?" said one of the waiters smilingly.

"_Oh, oui, pour certain_" replied Uncle Paul. "If you don't mind, Pickle."

"Mind, uncle? Oh, yes, of course. I am horribly hungry."

"You always are, my boy. Well, we must make the best of a bad business," continued the doctor, as, nodding to the waiter, he moved a little closer to the fire and turned his back, an example followed by Rodd.

"It makes a dreadful time, monsieur," said the smiling waiter. "Will he choose, or trust his servant to prepare a dinner upon the field of which the English milor' will be proud?"

"You speak capital English," said the doctor, rather sarcastically.

"I have been many times in public in London."

"Ah, that's right. Then give us a snug little dinner while we dry ourselves. But what's the meaning of all that upset at the barracks next door?"

"It is not quite that I know, sir," said the man eagerly; "but two officers came in upon the instant to put their cloaks where they should not water themselves so much, and I hear them say, a dispatch come quickly for monsieur the Governor to seize upon a ship. Oh, faith of a man! Hark at that!"

For there was a sudden crash and an echoing roar, while some of the utensils in the great kitchen clattered together, and a piece of earthenware fell from a shelf upon the stone floor, to be shivered to atoms.

"_Tonnerre, eh_?" said the doctor.

"_Non, non, monsieur_" cried the man, relapsing into his native tongue for a moment. "It is what you English gentlemen call a great gun from the fort; and look, look! The poor _cuisiniere_ much alarm, as you call it."

For just then, as if catching the contagion from the shrieking of the storm, one of the cook-maids threw herself back into a chair and began to scream.

It was a busy scene for a few minutes while the frightened hysterical woman was hurried out, while with the storm seeming to increase in violence, and amid the trampling of armed men outside, who were hurrying from the barracks, the two English visitors gradually picked up scraps of information which explained the excitement that in spite of the storm was going on outside.

"Messieurs would like to see," said the friendly waiter. "They will come up-stairs to the long _salle_ whose windows give upon the harbour."

"But what's the matter?" cried Rodd. "Is there a wreck?"

"A wreck, sare?" said the waiter, shaking his head. "No, I know not wreck."

"Has a ship come ashore and is breaking up?"

"Ha, ha! No, no, no, no, no, no, no! You would say _naufrage. Non, non, non_! It is a sheep in the harbour; a foreign spy. They say it has come to set fire to the town."

"Then they have chosen a very bad night for it," said Uncle Paul, laughing.

"Monsieur is right. Nosing would burn. But the enemies of la France, my great country, not stop to think of zat."

"Oh, but that must be a rumour, Rodd," said Uncle Paul uneasily. "Why, surely they are not going to fancy that our English schooner is a spy and an enemy!"

The waiter's ears were sharp, and he cried at once--

"English! Oh non, monsieur. You are from the little two-mast. It is not you. It is some enemy of the King whose sheep is in the harbour, and great dispatches have come to the Governor that she is to be seized. Ah, there again, monsieur! Anozzer gun from the fort."

It was plain enough to hear, for the windows of the big badly-lit room into which the man had conducted them clattered in their frames, while the dull, heavy report was preceded by a vivid flash as of lightning.

"Ha, ha! You see. The sheep will not get away, for at the forts they are alert and will sink her if she try."

"Oh, but no vessel could try to put out in a storm like this, Rodd," said Uncle Paul.

"No, sare," continued the waiter excitedly; "the boats will go out with the soldiers and take the sheep."

"She is a man-of-war, I suppose?"

"Yes, sare. Not very big, but an enemy; but if she fight they will shoot from all the forts and sink her."

"But how do you know all this?" said Rodd.

"Many soldiers, horsemen, came galloping up to bring dispatches to the Governor. There, sare; you will look from the window," continued the man, using a clean serviette that he took from under his arm to rub the steamy window-panes, for the cold blast of the storm had caused the warm air inside to blur the glass with a thick deposit of vapour. "There, sare," continued the man; "zat is ze sheep."

"Oh, it's too thick to see for the rain."

"Yes, sare; but you see out zare in ze arbour ze two lights."

"Nonsense man!" cried Uncle Paul, half angrily. "That is the English schooner--ours."

"Oh, non, non, non, monsieur! Away to ze _gauche_--ze left hand. Ze sheep with two high, tall mast, that we all see here when she come in ze storm yesterday. We all here with ze officer of ze regiment see you come in through ze storm, and ze enemy sheep, a stranger, come after, and ze officer say she will run you down and sink you in ze harbour!"

"Oh, that one!" cried Rodd excitedly.

"Ah, I see, monsieur knows. You see her lights swing in the wind--two;" and the man held up a couple of fingers.

"Yes, I see where you mean," cried Rodd; "but she has only one light."

"Ah, ha! Monsieur is right. Zare is only one. Ze vind storm has blow out ze uzzer. Look, now zare is no light at all. Ze sheep put im out."

The violence of the rain was now abating, but the wind beat against and shook the window-panes and shrieked as it rushed by. It was evening, and a few minutes before it had been dark as night, but with the cessation of the rain the heavy forms and light rigging of the many vessels gradually became more and more visible, while fresh lights began to come into view, but in every case not moving and swinging about like those in the rigging of the safely moored ships, but gliding about from various directions as if they were in the sterns of boats that had put off from the harbour side.

"Messieurs see?" said the waiter excitedly. "Two boats come now from the fort on ze uzzer side. Look, look! Ze lights shine on ze soldiers' bayonet. They go to take ze sheep."

As the man was speaking the brig that had previously taken up so much of Rodd's attention stood out more clearly. Her riding lights were indeed gone, but there was a peculiar misty look forward, and it was now Rodd's turn to speak excitedly about what he saw.

"Why, uncle," he cried, "she's moving! They've slipped their cable and hoisted the jib!"

"Nonsense, boy! Not in a storm like this."

"I don't care, uncle; she has. Look; you can see her gliding along."

"Impossible!"

"It isn't, uncle. Look, you can see them plainly now; two boats full of men, and they are rowing hard, but getting no nearer to the brig. Here, I want to see; let's get right down to the harbour."

"What, to get wet again?" cried Uncle Paul.

"It doesn't rain now a drop. There's nothing but wind; and look, look; the people are running down now in crowds, and there goes a company of soldiers at the double. Oh, there's going to be something very exciting, uncle, and we must see."

"But the dinner, boy, the dinner! What is this to us?"

"Dinner, uncle!" cried the lad indignantly. "Who's going to stop for dinner when there are boats out yonder full of men going to board and take a ship?"

"Humph! Well," grunted Uncle Paul, "I suppose it would be rather exciting, and we shall be able to see; but I don't know, though. There'll be firing, and who knows which way the bullets will fly?"

"Oh, they; won't hit us, uncle. Come on."

Uncle Paul was rapidly growing as excited as his nephew, while the waiter, if it were possible, was as full of eagerness as both together, and forgetting all his duties and the dinner that he had ordered to be prepared, he cried--

"Ze rain is ovare; you come vith me. I take you out ze back way and down ze little rue which take us to the quay."

That was enough for Rodd, and the next minute they were following the waiter down the big staircase through the great kitchen once more, which was now quite deserted, and out into a walled yard to a back gateway, beyond which, mingling with the roaring of the wind, they could hear the trampling of many feet.

"Zis way; zis way!" the bare-headed waiter kept crying, as he put his serviette to quite a new use, battling with the wind as he folded it diagonally and then turned it into a cover for his head by tying the corners under his chin.

"Here, I say," cried Rodd, as the man kept on at a trot; "I want to get to the harbour."

"_Oui_, _oui_; zis way!" panted their guide, who nearly put the visitors out of patience by turning off two or three times at right angles and apparently taking them quite away from where they wished to go. "Zis way! Zis way!" he kept on crying, till at last the trio were alone, others who had been hurrying onward having taken different directions.

Bang went another gun from the fort, a report which seemed to be sent back instantly from the harbour walls, apparently close at hand.

"Yes, zis way; zis way!" shouted the man. "I show you before zey sink ze sheep."

And now he suddenly turned into a narrow alley formed by two towering warehouses so close together that there was not room for two people to walk comfortably abreast; but "Zis way, zis way," shouted the guide, "and you shall be zere upon ze field--_sur le champ, sur le champ_. Ah ha!" he cried directly after, as he suddenly issued from out of the darkness of the alley into the comparative light of a narrow wharf encumbered with casks, just beyond which was the dripping stone edge of the great harbour, and below them boats, barges, and lighters swinging from the great rusty iron rings and mooring posts of the quay.

"Vat you say to dat?" cried the waiter, turning round to face his companions, beginning loudly and ending in a choking whisper, for he had met a gust of wind face to face which stopped him for the moment from taking his breath and forced him to turn his back and make a snatch at the corner of one of the warehouses. "Faith of a good man!" he panted. "The vind blow me inside out! Aha! What did I say?"

"Capital!" panted Rodd, almost as breathlessly as the waiter, at whom upon any other occasion he would have burst out into a roar of laughter, so grotesque was his appearance with the white napkin tied under his chin. "Oh, this is a splendid place!"

"Here, you look out, Pickle," cried Uncle Paul. "Lay hold of something, or we shall be blown right off."

"All right, uncle. Why, if one of those gusts sent us into the harbour we should be drowned."

"Come a little farther this way, then, and if the wind is too much for us, why we shall only go down into this barge."

At that moment, as they looked across and downward towards the mouth of the harbour, there were the flashes of bright light to illumine the gloom of the evening, and the reports of a ragged volley of musketry coming from one of the two boats which they could now make out being rowed hard after the brig, as it glided rapidly along in the direction where the watchers now stood.

Then for a short space it passed out of sight behind a group of four vessels which were safely moored. Then it was out again, and as the lookers-on excitedly watched, they made out dimly that the vessel answered her helm readily and was gliding round in a tack for the other side of the harbour, while the two boats in pursuit altered their direction, the men rowing with all their might, as if to cut the brig off during her next tack.

There was another ragged volley, this time from the second boat; but if they were firing to bring down the steersman, it was in vain, for the brig sailed swiftly on, gaining a little way, as she made for the mouth of the harbour.

This was far distant yet, and her chances of reaching it even in the shelter of the harbour, with such a gale blowing, were almost nil.

"She'll do it, though, uncle," shouted Rodd, with his lips close to Uncle Paul's ear.

"Yes, my boy, I expect she will," was the reply; "but they've got some daring people on board, and I shouldn't like to be the man at the wheel."

"Ah, why don't they shoot? Why don't they shoot?" cried the waiter. "She is an enemy, and--"

The rest of his speech was unheard, for another flash cut the darkness, followed by the thud of a big gun, the shot coming as it were instantly upon the waiter's question; but it had no effect upon the brig, which came nearer and nearer to the pier-like wharves of the harbour, glided round again with the two stay-sails rilling upon the other tack, and then went off once more.

"She'll get away, uncle," cried Rodd excitedly, "and I don't know what they are, but one can't help admiring such a brave deed."

There was another report, this time from quite another direction.

"That must be from the fort up behind the town, Rodd," cried Uncle Paul. "It's too thick to see any splash, but they must be in earnest now, and will not be firing blank charges. It looks as if they mean to sink her if she doesn't stop."

"They've got to hit her first, uncle," cried Rodd excitedly. "Oh, I can't help it, uncle," he continued, with his lips close to his uncle's ear so that the waiter should not catch his words, "but I do hope they won't."

"Well, my boy, I can't help feeling the same, though she's neither enemy nor friend of ours, and we don't know what it all means; for I don't suppose," he said, with a half-laugh, "that she has got Napoleon Bonaparte on board."

Uncle Paul had not taken his nephew's precaution, and as a heavy gust was just dying out, the excited waiter caught a part of his speech.

"Ha, ha!" he cried. "You sink so? You say le Petit Caporal is on board?"

"No, no," cried Uncle Paul; "I didn't say so."

"No, sare; you think so, and zat is it. He has escape himself from ze place where you English shot him up safe, and he come in zat sheep to burn down ze town. But ah-h-h, again they will sink him. Faith of a man, no!" he cried angrily, for there was a shot from another battery, this time nearer the harbour mouth. "They cannot shoot straight."

For onward glided the brig, making tack after tack, and zigzagging her way through the narrow entrance of the harbour, at times partly sheltered by the great pier to windward, then as she glided farther out careening over in spite of the small amount of reefed sail she carried, but all the while so well under control that she kept on gaining and leaving the two boats farther and farther behind.

"Oh, if it were only lighter!" cried Rodd, stamping his foot with vexation. "Why, she'll soon be out of sight."

"Before she gets much farther," said Uncle Paul gravely, "she'll be getting within the light cast by one or other of the harbour lights, and that will be one of her critical times."

"Why critical, uncle?" cried the boy earnestly. "Because the men in the fort will have a better chance of hitting her, I should say."

"Oh, I hope they won't," said Rodd beneath his breath. "Why, it would be horrible, uncle," he half whispered, with his lips close to his uncle's face. "She must have a brave captain to dare all this."

"A very brave captain," said Uncle Paul earnestly. "But you think she'll get away, uncle?"

"No, Rodney," said the doctor, laying his hand with a firm grip upon his nephew's shoulder. "She may pass through the harbour mouth without being hit by the gunners, for it would require a clever marksman to hit so swiftly moving an object, rising and falling as the brig does now that she is getting into the disturbed water near the mouth."

"But suppose she passes through untouched, uncle? What then?"

"What then, boy? She will be out of the shelter given by the end of the jetty. It's too dim now to see, but once or twice I had just a glimpse of the waves washing over the harbour light, and there must be a terrific sea out there. Why, you can hear it plainly even here."

"No, uncle; that's the wind."

"And waves, my boy. Why, trying to sail out there in the teeth of such a gale as this, it will be almost impossible for her to escape. It seems to me to be an act of madness to attempt such an escapade, and cleverly as the brig is handled I think it is doubtful whether she will ever clear the mouth. But if she does she will catch the full force of the storm and--"

"And what, uncle?"

"Be carried away yonder to the east somewhere and cast ashore."

"Oh-h!" sighed Rodd; and it was almost a groan. _

Read next: Chapter 16. Escape

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