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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 27. Strange Proceedings |
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_ CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN. STRANGE PROCEEDINGS "Is it a wreck, uncle?" panted Rodd. "I thought so, boy," cried Uncle Paul; "but don't talk. Slip on two or three things." He was still speaking, when there was a rush down the cabin stairs, and the captain shouted-- "Quick, doctor! Your pistols and a gun! We are attacked!" The words thrilled through Rodd, and the next minute he had seized a double gun and was ready to follow his uncle and the skipper on deck, where in the faint light of morning he found nearly the whole of the crew gathered across the after part of the deck, armed with capstan bars for the moment, while the mate and Joe Cross were rapidly handing round cutlasses and pikes. The forward part of the schooner was in the hands of strangers, all well-armed; others were climbing over the bows from a boat which was made fast alongside, while hurried orders were being given to them in French by a tall, dark, grey-haired man, sword in one hand, pistol in the other. "What's the meaning of this?" panted Uncle Paul to the skipper, while Rodd felt as if he were not yet awake, and suddenly recalled the fact that he had armed himself with a perfectly useless weapon, for in his excitement he had forgotten powder flask and bullets, having instead of the latter brought a belt containing small shot. "Pirates or privateers, sir," replied the skipper hotly, "but just give us time. Be smart, my lads. Pikes and cutlasses, and then all together with a will!" "For heaven's sake let's have no bloodshed, Captain Chubb!" cried Uncle Paul, catching the skipper by the arm. "Not my wish, sir," said the captain shortly; "but this is my schooner while I command her, and I'm going to clear this deck." "Ay, ay, sir!" came in a low, eager murmur from the men. "There, sir," said the skipper; "you and the lad stand back. Ready, my lads?" "No, no!" cried Uncle Paul, who saw that the strangers forward, all as well-armed as the schooner's crew, were eagerly waiting for the order to advance from their leader, each party being ready to be let slip for what might prove to be a desperate encounter. Rodd grasped this, and then felt puzzled as he saw a youth of about his own age suddenly elbow his way to the front to stand beside the leader. Suddenly awakened as he had been from sleep, Rodd felt more confused than ever, for the sight of the youth, who from his dress seemed to be the second officer, added to his confusion, though for the moment he could hardly tell why. And this just as Uncle Paul was grasping the skipper's arm and saying-- "Don't be hasty. These cannot be pirates. There must be some mistake." "Maybe, sir, but these fellows who have boarded us have made it. Now, sir, once more, stand back and let us clear the deck. They can talk when they are back in their boats." There was a few moments' silence, each side seeming unwilling to begin, and taking advantage of an apparent hesitancy on the part of the strange leader, Uncle Paul instead of stepping back raised his hand and advanced, Rodd springing to his side, while their movement was exactly followed by the chief intruder and the youth who stepped to his side. "Now, sir," cried Uncle Paul firmly, in French. "I understand English," was the reply. "I am very glad," said Uncle Paul. "Now, sir, you see that we are well-armed and prepared. What is the meaning of this attack?" "Ah, I am glad, sir," said the stranger courteously. "Pray keep your men back, and I will mine." "Tell them to clear off the deck, then, doctor. There must be no talk here." "Be silent, Captain Chubb!" cried Uncle Paul sternly. "We must have no bloodshed." "No, sir," cried his opponent quickly, and in very excellent English. "We are no pirates. I am the captain of that brig, and in urgent need of help." "And this is a very strange way of asking for it, sir." "Yes, yes, I know, my friend," cried the other hotly, "but it was forced upon me by circumstances. I have need of your vessel, and I must have it at all costs--peacefully if you will, and I am ready to recompense you, the owner, for any loss of cargo at your destination which you may incur; but I must have the use of this little ship." "Indeed, sir!" said Uncle Paul, with a peculiar smile. "And if I say you cannot have it; what then?" "Then, sir," said the stranger haughtily, "you see we are prepared. I shall be compelled to take it from you by force." "Ah-h-h!" came like a low growl of satisfaction from the schooner's crew, and Rodd was conscious of a rather ominous movement on the part of the men, who began moistening their hands and taking a firmer grip of their weapons. Rodd was drinking in this colloquy, which filled him with wild excitement; but all the time he kept glancing from the young officer who stood sword in hand to the brig he had seen over-night and again thrown up by the storm, still lying about the same distance away from the schooner, and then with his head suddenly seeming to become clearer he cried out aloud-- "Uncle, those are the officers we saw at Havre, and that's the brig that escaped." "You--you were at Havre!" cried the elder officer excitedly; and he stepped closer to Rodd, his young companion, watchful and on the alert, following his example and keeping close as if to defend him from any attempted seizure. "Yes, yes, of course," cried Rodd, without looking at the speaker, his eyes being fixed upon the young man. "Then this is a French vessel?" cried the officer. "No, sir," replied Uncle Paul. "It is my schooner, and I am not in pursuit of your brig." "Why, it is!" cried Rodd suddenly, as he dropped the butt of his unloaded gun with a thud upon the deck. "I thought I knew you again!-- Uncle, this is the young French prisoner I helped to escape from Dartmoor." Before he could say another word the sword the young Frenchman held dropped from his hand to the extent of its gold-laced knot, and to Rodd's confusion a pair of thin arms were flung about his neck and he was held tightly to the young stranger's breast. "Oh, _mon ami_! _mon ami_! My dear friend!" he cried. "Do we meet once more like this? _Mon pere, c'est le jeune Anglais qui nous a sauves dans cet affreux temps_." "Moray!" cried the officer, looking stunned. "Is this true?" "True? Oh yes! Oh yes!" cried the lad, speaking now in English. "You, young angler, fisherman, this is my dear father." To Rodd's false shame and confusion, he had to submit to another embrace, for before he could realise what was about to happen the officer had followed his son's example and not only embraced him, but kissed him on both cheeks. "Well, this is a queer set out," said Uncle Paul. "Then you are the two fellows who broke into my bedroom and helped yourselves to my purse?" "Ha, ha! Yes, my friend," cried the officer, laughing; "but you and your brave son will forgive. We were poor exiles and prisoners fighting for our liberty, and you will let us make amends." "Oh, well, you did," said Uncle Paul bluffly; "but that is no excuse for turning pirates and trying to rob me of my ship at the point of the sword." "No, no," cried the officer hastily, "but you are a brave Englishman, and you and your son--" "No, sir, my nephew." "--will forgive. One moment; let me think!" cried the officer, as he dragged his hand from out of his sword-knot and thrust the blade into its sheath. "Yes, yes, let me think. I have it, Morny," and turning to his followers he uttered a short sharp command which resulted in his men swinging themselves over the side and entering the two boats in which they had effected the surprise of the schooner. At their first movement in retreat the skipper's crew burst into a loud jeering laugh, and made as if to rush forward; but at a word from Captain Chubb they were silenced and held back. "I thank you, sir," said the French officer, raising his hat to the skipper. "It was well done. Now let me speak; let me explain," and he looked from Rodd to his uncle and back, and then gave a glance at the skipper, while the two lads stood hand in hand. "It was like this," he said; "you saw us at Havre that stormy day, and of course my brig nearly crushed into your vessel. Then we lay at anchor close together till that order came down from a vile insensate Government to seize upon my vessel and my crew. It was the work of enemies, and I had to set sail at once, or once more my son and I would have had to pass years in the inside of a prison, not as culprits, monsieur, but as honourable gentlemen, French nobles, whose only crime was fidelity to one,"--and as he spoke he stopped short, uttering the word _one_ with grave reverence, as he took off his hat--an example followed by his son. "Well, gentlemen, I cannot explain to you. There is not time. Only this--you saw that I made what you English call a dash for it--for freedom. It was like madness, but we said we would rather trust the storm than the French Government. They sent boats full of soldiers to seize us, but we kept on. They opened fire upon us from the forts, but we did not shrink." "Yes, yes, we saw all," cried Uncle Paul, "and a very brave dash you made." Captain Chubb, who had listened, frowning heavily the while, uttered a low grunt. "And a very fine bit of seamanship, sir," he said, and the officer turned to him and raised his hat. "It was desperate, sir," he said gravely, "and I knew that I was risking the lives of my dear son and all on board; but no man there shrank. Well, sir, my story is long, but I must excuse myself for my conduct here. It is enough. We battled with the storm, as you saw, and escaped." "I always said you had gone down," grunted Captain Chubb. "No, sir. We escaped with but one wound, and that was to my poor vessel; and since the night when we left Havre-de-Grace upon my mission it has been one long struggle, as you would say, for life." "Indeed, sir?" "Yes," said the officer sadly, and he pointed over the side towards where the beautiful duck-like brig with its taper spars sat the smooth sea, but with a steady stream of water trickling down her side. "My chief officer and my men have worked in every way they knew long days and weeks; but it is of no use. I would not give up the great object upon which I have come, but it is forced upon us at last that before many days have gone over our heads that vessel will lie far down in the depths of the ocean. Do you not see how low she is in the water?" "Eh?" cried the skipper eagerly. "Eh? I thought she was low down with cargo. You've sprung a leak?" "A cannon ball crashed through her, sir, and we have never been able to master that leak." "Then why in the name of thunder didn't you put into port?" cried the skipper contemptuously. The officer smiled. "I cannot explain," he said. "There was not time. I had work to do--a task that I had promised to fulfil, and we held on till it was forced upon me that I must get another vessel or stand with my men upon the deck and let our brave _Roi Dagobert_ sink beneath our feet." "That wasn't her name at Havre," said the downright skipper. "No, sir," said the officer, smiling; "but were we not pursued? Would not news of our escape be sent far and wide? We were obliged to assume another disguise. The _Jeanne d'Arc_, we said, sank at Havre. That is the _Roi Dagobert_ floating still; but for how long?" "I don't quite see that," said the skipper bluntly. "No?" said the officer. "Monsieur has never passed long years as a prisoner of war." "Well, no," grunted the skipper. "Maybe that might have made me a bit shifty." "There, sir," said the officer, turning now to Uncle Paul; "that is my excuse for this desperate venture--this attempt to seize your vessel. My business is urgent. I am a nobleman, a count of the French Empire, and I offer you any recompense you like to name if you will give up to me your vessel, leaving me full command for a week--a month--such time as I may need." "And if I say, sir, that I cannot accede to what you must own are wild demands," said Uncle Paul, "what then?" "What then?" said the officer slowly. "You mean that you will attack us, and the strongest wins?" The officer was silent, and he turned his eyes upon his son, who left Rodd and took his extended hands, both standing silent for a few moments. "No, sir," he said at last, slowly and gravely. "Neither my son nor I can raise our hands against those who gave us liberty, almost life. Morny, my boy, we will do our duty to the last, and try to keep the poor _Roi Dagobert_ afloat. She may live long enough, even as she has kept afloat so long. If she sinks with us--well, my boy, we shall have done our duty to him we serve, and our names may not be forgotten in our country's rolls." There was silence for a few moments, which was broken at last by Rodd. "But I say, uncle," he cried eagerly, "you always said you had plenty of time, and--" The young officer turned quickly upon the speaker with an eager questioning look, but before Uncle Paul could speak, Captain Chubb took off his cap and stood scratching his head in the now bright morning sunshine. "Look here, Mr Count," he said; "I am only a rough Englishman, and a lot of what you have been saying about mission and that sort of thing is just so much Greek to me. But do you mean to tell me that you got a ball through the bottom of your smart brig that night in Havre, and have never been able to stop the leak?" "Yes, yes; that is so, my friend. My chief officer has tried everything that he could do, but we could not get at the place. And look yonder! The pump has been kept going ever since." "Well, sir," continued Captain Chubb, "I don't know your first mate, and I don't want to say hard things of a man who could take that there smart craft out of the French harbour as he did that night. He is a very fine sailor, sir. But if I aren't got a carpenter on board this schooner as would give him ninety out of a hundred and then beat him, without bringing to work the little bit I knows myself, why, I'm a Dutchman, and that I aren't." "Ah!" cried the Count excitedly. "You think--" "No, sir; I don't say I think anything without having a look. But as there don't seem to be any fighting going on, and you and the doctor here turns out to be old friends, why, before you talk of throwing up your job and taking to your boats--which would be a much more sensible thing to do than going down with colours flying when there warn't no need, and setting aside getting some fresh water and provisions into your boats and making for a place on the West Afric coast--I should just like to come on board your craft with my man and see what mightn't be done by stopping that there leak." "My friend!" cried the Count excitedly, and he caught the skipper by the hands. "Well, sir," said the skipper, with a grim smile, "if you are Mr Rodd's and the doctor's friend and wants to be friends with me, why, Tom Chubb aren't the man to say no and want to keep enemies. So there's my fin. But look 'ere, you know," he continued, as he gave the Count's thin white hand a tremendous grip, "yours was a very queer way of coming upon us, and might have meant some nasty marks on my white decks. You can't help being a Frenchman, but do you know what an Englishman would have done? He'd have just come here civil like and said, 'Look here, strangers, we have sprung a leak, and we are going down. Come and lend us a hand at the pumps.'" "Ah, yes, of course," said the Count warmly. "It is what I should have done." "And you would like me to come aboard and see if there's anything we can do?" "Yes, yes!" cried the Count eagerly. "All right, then, sir," said the skipper coolly; "I am sailing under the doctor's orders, and if he's willing, I'm your man." _ |
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