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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 22. The King's Ship |
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_ CHAPTER TWENTY TWO. THE KING'S SHIP It was the afternoon of a blazing hot day, when the pitch was oozing out in drops in every exposed place, and Rodd had found it exceedingly unpleasant to touch any piece of the brass rail, bolt, the bell, or either of the guns, for the schooner was gliding on southward with every scrap of her white sails spread, and the wind that wafted her onward sent a feeling of lassitude through all on board. Some days before, Captain Chubb had set his men to work to rig up a small awning aft, and the doctor having declared that it was too hot for work, he and Rodd had spent most of their time beneath this shelter, till the latter had struck against it, declaring it was all nonsense, for the sun came hotter through the canvas than it did where there was no shade at all, or else it seemed to, for there was no breeze in the shelter, and though what wind there was seemed as if it had come past the mouth of a furnace, still it was wind, and the lad declared that it was far preferable to stewing under the awning. It was a lazy time, and the men, who had dressed as lightly as they could contrive, went very slowly about their several tasks, and at last when Rodd strolled towards the man at the wheel, he had to listen to a petition. It was fat Isaac Gregg who was taking his trick, as he called it, and he began at Rodd at once. "I've got something to ask you, sir," he said. "Oh, bother!" cried Rodd, taking off his straw hat to turn it into a fan. "It's too hot to listen. Don't ask me anything, because if you do, I shall be too stupid to tell you." "Oh, it aren't hard, sir," said the man innocently, as he let a couple of spokes pass through his hands and then ran them back again. "It's only as the lads asked me--" "Well, well, go on," said Rodd, for the man stopped. "Phew! It's just as if the tops of the waves where they curl over were white hot." "Yes, sir, it is a bit warm," said the man; "but I've felt it warmer." "Couldn't," said Rodd abruptly. "Oh yes, sir; much hotter than this." "What! You've felt it hotter than this?" "Oh yes, sir." "Then why didn't you melt away? I should have thought you would run like a candle all into a lump." "Ah, that's your fun, sir. Some of the lads has been telling you that I am fat. That's a joke they have got up among them, just because I'm a little thicker than some of the others. But as I was a-saying, sir, they ast me to ast you--" "Now it's coming then," sighed Rodd. "Phew! Wish all my hair had been cut off. It gets so wet, and sticks to my forehead." "Yes, sir, it's best short," said the man. "Just you look at mine. You should have it done like this." As he spoke the sailor took off his hat and exhibited a head which had been trimmed down till all the scalp resembled a dingy brush, for it was cut with the most perfect regularity, for the hair to stand up in bristly fashion for about a quarter of an inch from the skin. "Why, who cut that?" cried Rodd, with something approaching to energy, this being the first thing that had taken his attention that day. "Joe Cross, sir. He's a first-rate hand with a comb and a pair of scissors. You let him do your head, sir and you won't know yourself afterwards." "Oh yes, I should," said the boy sleepily, gazing down at the quivering compass and its many points. "I mean you would feel so comfortable, sir." "Oh, well, then, I will. Anything," cried Rodd--"anything not to be so hot!" "That's right, sir. Ast me to ast you, sir." "Well, you've been asking for the last half-hour. What is it?" cried Rodd peevishly. "To ast the doctor, sir--" "For some physic to make them cool?" snapped out Rodd. "Tell them to go and ask him themselves, and he'll say what I do--that they are not to eat so much nor drink so much, and not to work in the sun. There, that's all uncle would say." "Yes, sir, but that aren't it," cried Gregg, making one of the spokes of the wheel swing from hand to hand. "Then what do they want?" "Why, sir, it seems rum, but Joe Cross and the other lads know better what's good for them than I do. You see, sir, they want to get to work again at your fishing and hauling, or rowing about, for they says they can keep much cooler when they are moving about and got to think what they are doing than when there's no work on hand and nothing to think about at all." "Oh, very well," said Rodd grumpily, "I'll go and ask him, for I am about sick of this. I think there must be some volcanoes here, or something of that kind, for I never felt it so hot before." "You aren't used to it, sir; but I thought you would, sir, and the lads said they thought you would too. Thank you, sir." Rodd yawned, turned slowly on his heels, and strolled away to where Uncle Paul was sitting back in an Indian cane chair, resting the carefully-focussed spy-glass upon a half-opened book standing upon its front edges propped upon four more in the middle of a little table. "Ah, Pickle, my lad! You had better stop in the shade. I don't want you to be getting any head trouble in this torrid sun." "Oh, I am all right, uncle; but the men want to begin fishing or doing something again, keeping cool." "Too hot till towards evening, my boy," replied the doctor. "But look here; you were saying only the other day how strange it was that we saw so few vessels. Well, here's one at all events--a three-master." "Oh, whereabouts, uncle?" cried the boy eagerly. "Away to the west yonder, hull down. There, take the glass." As Rodd was arranging it to his own satisfaction the doctor went on quietly-- "Out here I am not going to give an opinion, but if we were in the garden at home in the look-out I should say that was a man-of-war coming into Plymouth port." "Yes, that she is, uncle," cried Rodd, who had forgotten the heat in this new excitement. "A man-of-war--that she is!" said Uncle Paul quietly. "That sounds ridiculous, Pickle. But one has to give way to custom." "Yes," said Rodd--"a frigate. I can tell by her white sails." "Not big enough for a frigate, my boy. A sloop of war, I should think. Now, what can she be doing down here?" "I know, uncle," cried the boy excitedly--"looking after the slave ships." "Ah, very likely," cried Uncle Paul. "I shouldn't be surprised. We are pretty near to that neighbourhood; and if she is it's quite likely that she'll overhaul us. Ah, here's Captain Chubb coming up. Look here, skipper!" The captain, who looked very hot, and whose face proclaimed very plainly that he had been having an after-dinner nap, came slowly up, stooped within the awning, and in silence took hold of the spy-glass, whose glistening black sides were quite hot, and which Rodd thrust into his hands. He wanted no telling what for, but raised and adjusted the glass to his own sight, took a quick shot at the distant object upon the horizon, and then lowered it directly. "British man-of-war," he grunted. "That's bad." "Why?" cried Rodd sharply. The skipper turned upon him, looked at him fiercely, and then almost barked out-- "You don't know, youngster?" "No. What do you mean?" "Means that I've got as smart a picked crew as a man need wish to have." "To be sure," said Rodd; "of course you have. I do know that." "Well," said the skipper gruffly, "I don't want to lose them; that's all." Rodd and his uncle exchanged glances, while the skipper went and stood at the side and began scanning the sky, to come back shaking his head. "No more wind, and not likely to be." "Well, we don't want any more, do we?" said Uncle Pad. "Ay; if a good breeze would spring up I'd show them a clean pair of heels." "Oh, I see," cried Rodd excitedly. "You think that they would press some of our men and take them aboard. Oh, Captain Chubb, you mustn't let them do that!" "I don't mean to, my lad, if I can help it. I hadn't reckoned on seeing one of them down here." "Uncle thinks they're after the slavers." "Nay, my lad, I don't think that. More likely after one of the palm-oil craft to see if they can pick up a few men out of them." "Oh, that's a false alarm, captain," said Uncle Paul. "My papers and the work we're upon with a grant from Government would clear us." "Ought to, sir," said the skipper gruffly, "but I wouldn't trust them. If a King's ship wants men, good smart sailors such as ours, men who have served, her captain wouldn't be above shutting his eyes and making a mistake. Anyhow I'm going to crack on as hard as I can till she brings us up with a gun, and then I suppose I shall have to heave to or risk the consequences." "Hadn't you better risk the consequences, Captain Chubb?" said Rodd, in a half-whisper. "Here you, Rodney, mind what you are saying, sir! It's the duty of every Englishman to respect the law, and I feel perfectly certain, Captain Chubb, that there is nothing to fear in that direction, so go quietly on as you are, unless you are obliged to heave to. Seeing how little wind there is, and how distant that sloop, I think it's very probable that she'll not overhaul us before it grows dark." "Oh, uncle," cried Rodd, "she'll have plenty of time. The sun won't go down for an hour or so." "Well, how long will it be before it's dark afterwards?" cried Uncle Paul. "You forget that we are in the tropics, and how short a time it is between sunset and darkness." "Yes, sir; you are quite right there," said the skipper, "and that's what I'm hoping for. If we can only get the bit of time over 'twixt this and the dark, I shan't care, for she won't see us in the morning." By this time one of the sailors forward had noticed the skipper using the glass, seen what took his attention, and communicated it to his messmates, with the result that all who had been below gathered forward and stood anxiously watching the beautiful vessel, whose sails glistened in the sunshine as if their warp was of silver and their woof of gold. Rodd noticed at once what a change had taken place amongst the men. All listlessness had gone, and they were watching the King's ship, for such Captain Chubb had declared her to be at once, and were talking in excited whispers together, their manner showing that whatever the captain's opinion might be, theirs was, as sailors, that they would not trust a King's ship that was in want of men. After a time Rodd was attracted towards them, and he strolled up, Joe Cross turning to him at once, to begin questioning him in a low tone. "What does the skipper say, sir?" "He said it was a sloop of war, Joe." "Oh yes, sir, we know that," said the man irritably; "but we've been 'specting him here ever so long. So's our bo'sun. There, look; he's got his pipe in his hand. Didn't he say nothing about no orders?" "No, Joe." "Didn't he say nothing about hysting another stunsail or two?" "No, Joe." "Oh-h-h!" came in a groan from the men; and Rodd felt for them, for of late they had become more and more attached to their position, and seemed as happy as a pack of school-boys on board the beautiful little schooner. "But he has been saying something, lads," continued Rodd, in a low tone. "Ay, ay, of course," cried Joe. "Our old man don't want to lose us, and he knows best what he ought to do. Go on, Mr Rodd, sir; tell us what he means." "I think he means to keep on quietly, in the hope of the schooner not being signalled to heave to." "Go on, sir, please, quick!" panted one of the men. "You don't know what it means to us." "Before it becomes dark," continued Rodd. "Ay, ay, my lad! That's right, sir. Why, of course," cried Joe exultingly. "Trust our old man, boys;" and whistling loudly a few bars of the Sailor's Hornpipe, he snatched off his straw hat, dashed it down upon the deck, and began to cut and shuffle and heave and turn, going through all the steps as if it were cool as an early spring, while his messmates formed in a ring about him, half stooped with bended knees, joined in the whistle, and beat time upon their knees and clapped hands, till the figure was gone through, and Joe Cross brought his terpsichorean bit of frantic mania to an end, by bringing his right foot down upon the deck with a tremendous stamp which was followed by a hearty cheer. "That's your sort, Mr Rodd, sir! It's all right," cried Joe, panting, and wiping his streaming face. "If anybody had told me that I could do that ten minutes ago, when I felt as if I had hardly stuff enough in me to lift a leg, I should have told him he was going off his head. Didn't think you could put sperrits into us like that, sir, with just a word, now did you?" "I am very glad, Joe," said Rodd. "Glad, sir? So's we--every man Jack on us. You see, it means a lot. When you have got a comfortable mess, and a skipper as makes you haul together in a brotherly sort of fashion, it aren't nice for a King's ship to come down and take its pick of the men. We as is able seamen don't want to shirk, and if we are obliged to go in time of war, why, we are ready to go and do our duty like men; but it do nip a bit at first, sir, 'specially at a time like this." "Ay, ay, Joe!" came in chorus. "You see, sir, mostlings life on board a ship is so much hard work, and you has a lot of weather of some sort or another to fight agen; but with the 'ception of that bit of rough time getting into the French port, this 'ere's been a regular holiday, and--Oh my! There she goes, lads!" groaned the poor fellow, for the hull of the sloop had been gradually rising more and more into sight, rapidly at last from the refraction as she had glided into a hotter stratum of air while nearing the schooner, and all at once a white puff of smoke had darted out of her bows, to be followed by a dull heavy thud, when the men turned as with one accord to gaze at their captain, as if hoping against hope that he would still hold on instead of giving an order to fat Gregg, the steersman, to throw the schooner up in the wind. _ |
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