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The Ocean Cat's Paw: The Story of a Strange Cruise, a fiction by George Manville Fenn |
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Chapter 18. A Strange Visitor |
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_ CHAPTER EIGHTEEN. A STRANGE VISITOR Upon hearing Joe Cross's announcement Rodd eagerly turned, to find his uncle just coming on deck to take his evening walk after a busy day with his specimens that he had dragged and trawled from the calm sea. The captain had just given orders to the mate to summon all hands on deck, and one of the first proceedings was to call the men to attention, the next to send them to the small-arms chest, from which each returned with cutlass buckled on and carrying a boarding pike, which were placed in a rack round the mainmast. Rodd took his position just opposite as the men fell into line; Uncle Paul seated himself as far off as he could get, in a deck-chair, where he sat and frowned; and then Captain Chubb diligently put his men through all the evolutions of cutlass drill over and over again, till he was satisfied, when he bade them fall out for a few minutes to rid themselves of their cutlasses. In the interval Rodd went up to where his uncle was seated. "I say, uncle," he said, "how the men have improved!" Uncle Paul grunted, and just then Captain Chubb strolled up. "Well, sir," he said, "we shall soon have a crew now as smart as a man-of-war's." "So I see," grumbled Uncle Paul; "and when you have got them perfect what are you going to do with them?" "Ah, that remains to be seen, sir. There's nothing like being prepared." "Better let the men rest after all they have done to-day. What with their deck cleaning and the work they have done for me, they don't want setting to play at soldiers." "Playing at soldiers, eh, sir? I call it playing at sailors. No use to lock the stable-door after the steed's stolen. My lads may never be called upon to fight, but if by bad luck we are, I should like them to be able to use their fighting tools like men." "Oh, it isn't likely," said Uncle Paul, "in a peaceful voyage like ours." "Most unlikely things are those that happen first," growled the captain. "But you worry the men with too much work, and I want them to be fresh and ready for me to-morrow morning. I don't want the poor fellows to be discontented." "Discontented, sir!" cried the skipper hotly. "I should like to see them look discontented! But not they! They like it. Puts them in mind of their old fighting days. Now you shall see them go through their drill with the boarding pikes, and see how smart I have made them. I say they like it, sir; and I know." "Then I suppose," said Uncle Paul, "you will set them to work lumbering about that great gun, pretending to load and fire it. Why, who in the world do you expect we are going to encounter out here on the high seas? We are not at war with the French." "Captain Chubb thinks we may meet with the privateer," said Rodd merrily. "Don't you make rude remarks, Rodney!" cried Uncle Paul angrily. "Well, there, captain, I suppose you will have your own way, but it seems to me great waste of time." "Oh no, sir," said the skipper good-humouredly. "I suppose you mean to run in and up some of those rivers we shall pass by and by?" "Most certainly," cried the doctor. "Well, and what then, sir? You are going right out of civilisation there, and among black tribes and warlike people who are ready for anything, from attacking another tribe and bringing the prisoners down the river to sell for slaves, up to taking a fancy to any smart craft they can master, and then stripping her and burning her to the water's edge." "And what becomes of the crews?" cried Rodd sharply. "Well, Mr Rodd, that's rather a hard question to answer. If ever you go to Liverpool or Bristol and you get asking questions amongst the merchants there, you will find they have got some queer tales to tell. Sorry you don't like my plans, Dr Robson, but even if we never get into trouble we shall be none the worse for being prepared." "Oh, I am not going to complain, Captain Chubb. Drill away as much as you like. You say the men like it, and it satisfies you. Then my boy Rodd, here, nothing will please him better than letting him have a canister of gunpowder to play with and pop off that gun. So I am in a minority, and I will give in. There, you'd better take Rodd and drill him too." "I'll take you at your word, sir," said Captain Chubb, laughing, and making Rodd start with eagerness. "Fall in, my lads. Pikes." The drilling went on till it was beginning to grow dusk, and then pikes were laid aside and orders given for the gun crew to take their places, Rodd closing up quickly in anticipation of something coming off. "Rather warm weather, Mr Rodd, sir," whispered Joe Cross, as, aided by another of the crew, he proceeded to cast loose the lashings and strip the tarpaulin off the long gun. "If it warn't for the showers this 'ere pocket pistol might very well do without her greatcoat. I say, sir, didn't I hear your uncle tell the old man that you were to have a canister of powder just to fire her off once or twice?" "Yes, Joe, but I think it was only to tease me." "You ask the skipper to let you have one. It's all very well to go on ramming and sponging and making believe to load, but it is like having your grog served out in an empty glass. And if the old man grunts and shakes his head and grumbles about waste of ammunition, you just ask him if he'd mind you bringing one of your canisters of powder as you and your uncle's got for your double guns. He might let you then, if your old man don't mind. We could divide it into about four goes as wouldn't make much noise, and there'd be some sense in it. There would be something to ram down; and the lads would like it." "But the captain wouldn't let you fire away any cannon balls, Joe." "Well, no, sir, I suppose not, unless we got the cook up with a pudding-bag to hold it over the muzzle and catch them again." "Wouldn't a straw hat be better, Joe?" said Rodd dryly. "Well, now you talk of it, sir," replied the man, grinning, "I never thought of that. Perhaps it would if one of us held it lightly in his hand and eased off a good deal when we fired. If you didn't do that of course the ball might go right through." "Well, I'll ask the captain, Joe." "Yes, sir; do, sir. As I said afore, it would please the lads, and do good too, for it would clean the gun's teeth, sweep away all the scales and rust." "Scales and rust!" cried Rodd. "Why, it isn't an iron gun; it's brass." "Why, so it is, Master Rodd, sir. Why, only fancy me not thinking of that! But here he comes. Try it on, sir." "Shall I, Joe?" "Yes, do, sir; as I said, it would please the lads. They're just like a lot of school-boys when they gets a chance of a change." "And Joe Cross doesn't care a bit," said Rodd. The man gave the speaker a comical look as he replied-- "Well, sir, you see, I was a boy once, and I was born with a lot of human natur' in me, and I never got rid of it, and I am afraid I never shall. There, go on, sir," whispered Joe. "Pitch it into him at once." Rodd moved towards the skipper as he came up, and as the latter looked at him inquiringly he began-- "You heard what my uncle said, captain?" "What about, my lad?" "Letting me have some powder to play with." "Ay, ay! But you don't want that?" "Oh, I don't know. I wish you would have a canister and let the men load the gun properly." "Eh?" "It would be like practice." "Well, that's true. But it would be only waste of powder; and I'm not going to waste any of the cannon balls." "No, I don't want you to do that." "Besides, I don't want to use either of the powder-bags, and they're made for a regular charge." "Beg pardon, sir," cried Cross. "Might make small charges up with a snuff of powder wrapped up in paper; and then I could prick and prime." "Um-m-m!" the captain growled, and frowned, while the gun crew stood with parted lips, looking as eager as so many boys on the Fifth of November. Then the captain grunted. "There, Mr Rodd," he said, "it will be a bit of practice for the lads, and it won't please you, of course. You don't want to see the gun really fired?" "Oh, I have seen salutes fired, at Plymouth." "Ah, so you have, of course, my lad. But those are bangs, and this would be a bit of a whiff." "That doesn't matter," said Rodd. "It will be real, and not pretending to fire." "Very well," said the captain, smiling grimly. "Maybe you'd like to fire?" "Yes, I should," cried Rodd. "No; let Joe Cross and the other men do that. I'll stand aside." There was a little more discussion, quite in opposition to ordinary drill, while the skipper went below and then returned with a pound gunpowder canister painted red. "I say, look here, Chubb," cried the doctor. "Shall I have to move?" "Oh no, sir; we shan't shoot you," replied the skipper grimly. "You'll be safe enough, unless the long gun bursts. But she's too new and strong for that. Here you are, Cross. Make that into four charges." The speaker was in the act of passing the canister to the man, when the look-out man from forward suddenly shouted-- "Sail ho!" "Where away?" cried the captain. "About five points off the starboard bow, sir. Leastwise, sir, it aren't a sail. It's a big boat, bottom upwards and just awash." "Stop a minute," cried Rodd. "I'll fetch our glass." "Bring mine too, my lad," cried the captain, and Rodd raised his hand in token of his having heard the order, as he dashed to the cabin hatch, to return directly after and find that his uncle was forward along with the skipper scanning the object about a quarter of a mile away. "Catch hold, uncle," cried Rodd, and he held out the telescope with one hand, and the captain's big mahogany tubed spy-glass, decorated with coloured flags, with the other. "No, focus it and use it yourself, boy. I'll have a look afterwards." Rodd raised the glass at once to his eye, but by this time the skipper had caught the object, and began to growl remarks. "Capsized long-boat," he muttered. "No, it's a fish--sick whale, I think. But I don't know. It's moving pretty well through the water. What do you make of it, my lad?" "It's very big and long," cried Rodd excitedly, "and it may be part of a whale's back just showing above the water. I don't know, though. I never saw a whale swimming before. Here, I know! I think it's five or six porpoises swimming one after the other and close together." "Nay!" growled the captain. "It's something--" "It's gone!" shouted Rodd. "Oh, uncle, I wish you'd seen it. It seemed to sink down out of sight all at once." "'Cause it didn't like to be looked at, sir," whispered Joe Cross. "But look out, sir," he cried eagerly. "There it is again, a little farther off." "Have a look, doctor," said the skipper, passing the glass to Uncle Paul. "Is it a whale?" asked the doctor. "Nay, that's no whale, sir," replied the captain. "A whale don't go under water like that when she sounds. Down goes her head, and she throws her flukes up in the air." "Then what is it?" cried Uncle Paul, with the glass now glued to his eye. "It's something very big. Yes, I can see plainly now-- blackish-grey, and shiny as if slimy. It seems to undulate, for one minute the back seems to be only a few feet long, then three or four parts are above the surface at once, as if the creature were twenty or thirty feet long." "Yes, sir; I can see that with the naked eye.--Nay, nay, sir; you keep the glass. It's more in your way than mine. Seems to me as if we have hit a curiosity for you, only it's rather too big to tackle." "I think it's a great snake," cried Rodd excitedly. "I mean, a very large eel, swimming on the top, and he keeps throwing his head about as if he were feeding in the middle of a shoal of fish." "Yes, it is something like that, Rodd," said the doctor; "but no conger eel could be as large as that, and really I don't know." "Sea-sarpint, sir," whispered Joe Cross to Rodd, and looking longingly at the glass the while. "Nonsense!" cried Rodd. "Here, you have a look, Joe," and he passed the glass to the sailor. "Now then," he said, "what do you make of it?" "I say sea-sarpint, sir." The captain growled more deeply than ever. "Sea-sarpint!" he said, in a tone of disgust. "There, hold your tongue, my lad. You're a naturalist, doctor; you haven't got no sea-sarpints in your books, have you?" "No," replied the doctor, handing the glass to one of the men, as he caught his longing eye. "But this must be a very curious fish, and it is evidently feeding. I wish it were coming this way, so that we could have a better view." Joe Cross lowered the boy's glass and looked questioningly at Rodd, giving at the same time a wag of his head in the direction of the nearest man. "Yes, let him have a look," said Rodd hoarsely, and as the glass was passed the boy caught the sailor by the sleeve, and whispered, making Joe start and gaze at him inquiringly, before stooping down and giving his thigh a slap with his right hand. "Ay, ay, sir!" he whispered. "Ask the skipper." "Ask the _captain_ what?" said the skipper sharply. "I have been thinking, Captain Chubb," panted Rodd. "Have the long gun loaded with a ball, and let the men try and hit that thing. 'Tisn't above a quarter of a mile away." "Eh? Have a shot at it, my lad?" said the captain, staring, and then shading his eyes to watch the object that was gliding along, making the water ripple strangely, while all around it was in violent ebullition, betokening that a large shoal of fish was feeding there. "Well, I don't know. What do you say, doctor?" continued the speaker. "I don't say that the lads could hit it, but they might." "Certainly," said the doctor eagerly. "Try." There was no occasion to give orders for a ball to be fetched up. Joe Cross and Rodd had darted off together, plunged down the hatchway, and were back again in an incredibly short space of time, the sailor carrying the ball, while Rodd had snatched up three or four big sheets of paper from off one of the laboratory lockers, and then as rapidly as possible a good charge of powder was emptied into one of the sheets, the gun's crew fell into place and rammed the charge home in the most business-like manner, the ball followed, Joe Cross thrust the pricker down into the touch-hole and primed, while another of the men ran with a piece of slow match to the cook's galley, where the water was being boiled for tea. Everything was done skilfully and with speed, while all on deck were in a state of profound excitement and dread lest the great creature should disappear from sight and rob the spectators of their looked-for sport. "Oh, do be quick!" cried Rodd. "Yah-h-h!" came in a groan, for as the words left the boy's lips there was a violent ebullition where the great serpent or whatever it was had been playing, the beautiful ripple of the shoal of fish died out, and in the fast-fading light of the evening the sea all around lay gleaming and grey, as it gently heaved, with no other movement now. "Oh, what a pity we were so long," said Rodd dismally. "I believe we should have hit it. I am disappointed!" "Well, so am I, if you come to that, Rodd, my boy," said the doctor, "though I don't think the men could have made a successful shot. You see, it requires a great deal of practice to hit an object like that with a big gun." "Whatever it was," growled the captain, "it was feeding on that shoal of fish, and when it made that dash it scared the lot away. There it is again! You, Joe Cross, take a good long careful sight. Don't hurry. Slow and sure. My word, you ought to hit that, my lad! It's a big 'un and no mistake. Silence there! Every man in his place. Slew the muzzle round a little more. Ready, Cross?" "No, sir; want to lower a little;" and as he spoke the sailor thrust in one of the wedges a trifle. "That's about got it, sir." "Looks as if he'd come to stay, doctor," said the captain excitedly, as he bent down to glance along over the gun's two sights, for the shoal of fish had risen once more, turning the beautiful smooth sea into a diaper-like pattern, while the strange object seemed as far as they could make out to be making a snatching dart here and another there, seeming to be like some whale-like creature with a long neck. "Now she's steady, sir," whispered Joe Cross huskily, after taking the captain's place for another sight. "It's as near as I can get, sir. If you'll give me the word." As he spoke the sailor drew back slightly, the captain cried "Fire!" and with a heavy, sharp crack a puff of white smoke darted from the muzzle and began to expand forward like a grey balloon, obscuring everything from the sight of the lookers-on for about a minute, before it rose clear, and then the darkening sea was all grey once more. _ |
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