Stories by English Authors: The Sea
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Various >> Stories by English Authors: The Sea
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"Me, Capeetan. All right. Honest man myself. You'se been have
every dollar."
"Well then, it's neck or nothing. We have half an hour to clear
out into the Gut. Come below, and shell out."
The Scorpion counted out one hundred pounds in gold, and then asked,
"That be enough? Other money all right other end."
"Deuce a bit! Down with the other ten or I sliver you."
The Scorpion did not know what "sliver" meant, but the gleam of
the skipper's cold eye was enough for him. He paid up and went on
deck.
Hindhaugh had just said to the engineer, "Now, rive the soul out
of her," when a low, panting sound was heard, and a white shape
appeared gliding over the water. The captain had let the feluccas
go, and the Jenny Jones was moving. He waved for the mate. "It's
all up. Here's a mess. You must go home overland; suppose you swim
ashore. Steady the men down."
Jack performed one or two steps of a dance, and placed his finger
against his nose. He rather enjoyed a scrape, did this frivolous
chief officer. The white shape came nearer, and a sharp whistle
sounded. Hindhaugh had known well enough that it was a steam-launch
that made the panting noise, and he got ready for the worst. The
launch drew right across the bows of the steamer, and then the
throbbing of the little engines ceased. Again the whistle sounded;
the launch gave a bound forward; then she struck away into the
darkness, and Hindhaugh drew a long breath.
In an instant every possible ounce of steam was put on, and the
Jenny Jones went away at eleven knots toward the Gut. All night
long the firemen were kept hard at it, and before morning the Rock
was far astern of the driving steamboat.
Three of the Scorpions had stayed aboard, and Captain Hindhaugh
noticed that they earned their knives. He noticed, too, that the
cringing manner which the fellows had shown before the Rock was
cleared had given place to a sort of subdued swagger.
About noon the engines were slowed down almost to nothing, and
the Jenny Jones crept gently on toward the shore. By four o'clock
the vessel was well into Portuguese waters, and Hindhaugh was
prepared to defy any quantity of Spanish coast-guards. When the
sun had dipped low the Scorpion-in-chief came aft, and pointed
mysteriously to the northeast.
"You'se been look where I point myself. Feluccas! You'se follow
them in and drop anchor."
Hindhaugh smiled. "Do you think you're talking to a fool? Come you
below there, and let me have that other money sharp."
"Ah, Capeetan, wait till agent's man come with felucca. I'se been
have no money myself."
Hindhaugh was not a person to be trifled with. He quietly took
out his revolver. "Now, do you see that pretty thing? First shot
for you. Look at that block forrad, and see how much chance you'll
have if I fire at you." The pop of the revolver sounded, and then
Hindhaugh went forward, pulling the Scorpion with him. "Do you see
that hole, you image? How would you like if that was your gizzard?
Now, no games, my joker."
The Scorpion begged for time, and Hindhaugh was so sure of his
man that he made no further objection. He had another conference
with Jack, and, to that worthy man's great delight, he expressed
certain forebodings.
"We're going to have a fight over this job," said the skipper. "I'm
dead sure of it. Go down and load the two muskets, and give them
to the safest men. When the lighters DO come, borrow the fireman's
iron rods. I've lent the steward my bowie that I got at Charleston,
and you can try and hold that old bulldog straight. We mustn't show
the least sign of funking."
Then Hindhaugh and his brother called for tea, and fed solidly.
The Scorpion whispered down the companion, "They'se been com'," and
the captain went on deck. Two large felucca-rigged lighters hove
up slowly through the dusk, and the chief Scorpion's signal was
answered. Hindhaugh saw both lighters draw near, he felt the usual
scraping bump, and then he heard a sudden thunder of many feet.
The second mate sung out, "Here's half a hundred of these devils,
sir. They're all armed to the teeth." And sure enough, a set of
ferocious-looking rapscallions had boarded the steamer. They looked
like low-class Irishmen browned with walnut-juice. Each man had
a heavy array of pistols in his sash, and all of them carried ugly
knives. The Scorpion waved to the gang, and they arranged themselves
around the pile of bales that stuck out through the after-hatch.
Hindhaugh had fully discounted all the chances, and had made up
his mind to one thing: he wouldn't be "done."
The Scorpion imperiously observed, "Come below, Capeetan," and
Hindhaugh went. Then the defiant native of the Rock put his back
against the cabin door, heaved out his chest in a manly way, and
said, "Now, Capeetan, you no have more money. You speak much, and
I'se been get your throat cut myself."
"You've got no money?"
"No; not a damn dollar."
"You won't keep to your bargain?"
"No; you come 'shore for your money if you want him."
Hindhaugh made up his mind in a flash. In spite of his habit of
wearing a frock-coat and tall hat, he was more than half a pirate,
and he would have ruffled it, like his red-bearded ancestors, had
fighting been still the usual employment of Norsemen. He marked his
man's throat, and saw that the insolent hands could not get at a
knife quickly. Then he sprang at the Scorpion, gripped him by the
windpipe, and swung him down. The fellow gurgled, but he couldn't
cry out. Hindhaugh called the steward, and that functionary came
out of his den with the long bowie. "Sit on him," said the captain.
"If he stirs cut his throat. Now, you, if you move a finger you're
done." The steward straddled across the Scorpion, and held the
knife up in a sarcastic way.
Hindhaugh went swiftly on deck, and stepped right among the jabbering
Spaniards. He smiled as though nothing had happened, but when he
saw one man lay hold of a bale he pulled him back. "Tell them I'll
shoot the first man that tries to lift a bale till I'm ready."
This message brought on a torrent of talk, which gave the captain
time. He whispered to Jack, "Sneak you round through the engine-room.
That lighter's made fast forrad; the second one's fast here. Get
a hatchet from the carpenter, and set him alongside of the second
rope. When I whistle twice, both of you nick the ropes, and we'll
jink these swindling swine." The engineer also received orders to
go full speed ahead on the instant that the whistle sounded.
Hindhaugh kept up his air of good-humour, although the full sense
of the risk he ran was in his mind. His threat of shooting had made
the Spaniards suspicious, although they were used to big talk of
the kind. One peep into the cabin would have brought on a collision,
and although the Englishmen might have fought, there was nothing
to gain by a fight. Everything depended on swiftness of action, and
Hindhaugh determined grimly that if rapidity could do anything he
would teach the "furriners" a lesson for trying to swindle him.
He said, very politely, "We're all ready now. You get your men
aboard the lighters, and we'll soon rash your cargo over the side."
This was transmitted to the smugglers, and immediately they swarmed
aboard their own boats. They had rather expected a quarrel, and
this pacific solution pleased them. As Jack afterward said, "They
blethered like a lot o' wild geese."
All the foreigners were gone but three. Hindhaugh stepped quietly
up to the interpreter, and said, very low, "I'm covering you with
my revolver from inside my pocket. Don't you stir. Is that other
money going to be paid?"
The interpreter had been innocent of all knowledge of the wild
work in the cabin. He stammered, "I thought by your way it was all
right. Where's our man?"
"I've got him safe enough. Ask those fellows in the lighters if any
of them can pay the freight for the job. If you tell them to fire
they may miss me, and I can't miss you."
No one, not even the consignee's man, had any money; the smugglers
meant to trick the Revenue, and the English captain as well.
Hindhaugh whistled, and then roared out, "Lie down, all of you! Ram
her ahead!" The hatchets went crack, crack; the steamer shuddered
and plunged forward; and the lighters bumped swiftly astern.
"Over the side, you animals, or I'll take you out to sea and drown
you."
The three Spaniards rushed to the side, and took flying leaps into
the lighters. Hindhaugh stooped low and ran to the companion. "Let
that beggar up," he shouted. The Scorpion scuttled on deck. "Now,
mister, I'll let you see if you'll take me in. Over you go. Over
the stern with you, and mind the propeller doesn't carve you." Two
shots were fired, but they went wild. The Scorpion saw the whole
situation; he poised for a second on the rail, and then jumped
for it, and Hindhaugh laughed loudly as his enemy came up blowing.
Jack performed a triumphal war-dance on the steamer's bridge, and
the Jenny Jones was soon far out of pistol range.
All that night Captain Hindhaugh did not sleep a wink. He was quite
persuaded that he had acted the part of an exemplary Briton. What
is the use of belonging to the ruling race if a mere foreigner is
to do as he likes with you? But the adventurous skipper had landed
himself in a pretty mess, and the full extent of his entanglement
grew on him every minute. At twelve o'clock, when the watch was
relieved, Jack came aft in a state of exultation that words cannot
describe. He chuckled out, "Well, sir, we've made our fortunes
this time." Hindhaugh damped his spirits by saying, slowly, "Not
too fast; that 'baccy's got to go overboard, my boy." Jack's mental
processes became confused. He had been measuring the cubic contents
of the smuggled goods, and the thought of wasting such a gift of
the gods fairly stunned him. Had it been cotton, his imagination
would not have been touched. But 'baccy! and overboard! It was
too much, and he groaned. He was ready with expedients at once.
"Why not run it to Holland?"
"Can't be done; where's our bill of lading?"
"Make up one yourself; you have plenty of forms."
"And suppose the luck goes the wrong way. What's to happen to
me--and to you too for that matter?"
"Run to a tobacco port, and warehouse the stuff in your own name."
"We're not bound for a tobacco port. What's to be done about the
cargo of ore that we are carrying? No, John; the whole five thousand
pounds must go over the side."
Next morning broke joyously. The sea looked merry with miles of
brisk foam, and the little Portuguese schooners flew like butterflies
hither and thither. Every cloud of spray plucked from the dancing
crests flashed like white fire under the clear sun. It was one of
the mornings when one cannot speak for gladness. But Hindhaugh's
thoughts were fixed on material things. The rich bales lay there,
and their presence affected him like a sarcasm. The men were called
aft, and the shovels used for trimming grain were brought up. Then
the captain said, "Now each of you take a pound or two of this
tobacco, and then break the bales and shovel the rest overboard."
The precious packages were burst, and the sight of the beautiful
leaf, the richness of the tender aroma, affected the sailors with
remorse. It was like offering up a sacrifice. But the captain's
orders were definite; so until near noon the shovels were plied
smartly, and one hundredweight after another of admirable tobacco
drifted away on the careless sea.
Hindhaugh watched grimly until at last his emotions overcame him.
He growled, "Confound it, I can't do it! Belay there, men; I'll have
another think over this job." And think he did, with businesslike
solemnity, all day long. He saw that he might make a small fortune
by risking his liberty, and the curious morality of the British
sailor prevented him from seeing shades of right or wrong where
contraband business was concerned. Had you told him that the
tobacco was stolen, he would have pitched you overboard; he felt
his morality to be unimpeachable; it was only the question of
expediency that troubled him. For three days it was almost unsafe
to go near him, so intently did he ponder and plan. On the fifth
day he had worked his way through his perplexities, and was ready
with a plan. A pilot cutter came in sight, and Hindhaugh signalled
her. The pilot's boat was rowed alongside, and the bronzed and
dignified chief swaggered up to the captain with much cordiality.
No one is so cordial as a pilot who has secured a good ship. The
two men exchanged news, and gradually slid into desultory talk.
Suddenly Hindhaugh said, "Are you game for a bit of work? Do you
ever DO anything?"
The pilot was virtuously agitated. He drew himself up, and, taking
care that the mate should hear, answered, "Me! Not for the wurrrld,
Cap'n. I've got a wife and children, sir."
"All right, Pilot, never mind; come down and have some tea."
Then Hindhaugh gradually drew his man out, until the pilot
was absolutely confidential. The captain knew by the very excess
of purity expressed in the pilot's first answer that he was not
dealing with a simpleton; but he carefully kept away from the main
subject which was in his (and the pilot's) mind. At last the man
leaned over and gave a masonic sign. "What was that job you was
speaking about, Cap'n? We're near home now, you know. Better not
go too near."
Hindhaugh played a large card. He smiled carelessly. "Fact is, I've
just told the fellows to shy the stuff overboard; I shall risk no
more."
"Mercy me, Cap'n! You're mad. How did I know who you were? I see
all about it now, but I did not know what game you might have on
with me. I'm in it, you know, if the dimes is right!"
"How?"
"Why, if the job's big enough. You stand off for a day; go down to
the Sleeve, and hang round, and I'll find you a customer."
"If you do, I pay you three hundred pound as soon as his money's
down."
"Done, then. My boat's not gone far. Whistle her, and I'll go slap
for Bristol. Never you mind for a day or two. How's your coals?"
"They're all right. You scoot now, and fetch your man over this
way. I'll go half-speed to the sou'west for twelve hours, another
twelve hours half-speed back. You'll find us."
In thirty-six hours the pilot cutter came back, and a Hebrew
gentleman boarded the Jenny Jones from her. After a long inspection,
the visitor said, "Now look here, I must have a hundred per cent.
margin out of this. What's your figure?"
"Two thousand five hundred."
"Won't do. Say two thousand, and you pay the jackal out of that."
"Done. And how do you manage?"
"I'll split the lot up among three trawlers. You wait off, and
give the jackal an extra fifty for bringing the boats down. I risk
the rest."
Another night passed, and the dawn was breaking coldly when the
dirty sails of the trawlers came in sight. Ship after ship had
hailed Hindhaugh, and offered to tow him if anything had happened
to his engines. He knew he would be reported as lying off apparently
disabled, and he was in a feverish state of excitement. The Hebrew
speculator watched the last bale down the side, and then handed over
the money, had a glass of brandy with the pilot, and departed--whither
Hindhaugh neither knew nor cared. The Jenny Jones ran for her
port. She had just slowed down, and the great waves of smoke from
the town were pouring over her, when two large boats, heavily
laden with men, came off to her. The men swarmed up the side, and
the officer in command shouted, "Bring up the pickaxes, and go to
work!" The hatches were pulled off before the steamer had taken up
her moorings, and the men went violently to work among the ore.
Hindhaugh looked innocent, and inquired, "What's all this about,
officer?"
"Fact is, Captain, we've got a telegram from Gibraltar to say you
have contraband on board. You may save all trouble if you make a
clean breast."
"Contraband! Who told you that?"
"Oh, we should have known without the wire. That gentleman on the
quay there came overland, and he put us up to you."
Hindhaugh looked ashore, and saw a dark face that he knew well. He
whistled and smiled. Then he said to the officer, "You may just
as well stop those poor beggars from blistering their hands. You
won't find anything here except what the men have in the forecastle.
You're done this journey fairly. Come away down and liquor, and
I'll tell you all about it." Then Hindhaugh gave an artistic account
of the whole transaction, and put the matter in such a light that
the custom-house officer cordially congratulated him on having
escaped without a slit weasand.
The Jenny Jones went back to Gibraltar, and Captain Hindhaugh was
very careful never to go ashore without a companion. One day he
was passing a chandler's shop when a sunken glitter of dark eyes
met him. His old acquaintance, the chief Scorpion, was looking
stilettos and poison at him. But Hindhaugh went by in his big,
burly way, and contented himself with setting on three watchmen
every night during his stay. To this day he is pleased with himself
for having given the foreigners a lesson in the elements of morality,
and he does not fear their knives one whit.
THE MASTER OF THE "CHRYSOLITE"
BY G. B. O'HALLORAN
Captain Anderson stood alone in the world. But he was one who COULD
stand alone, for his will was strong and his affections were weak.
Those who thought they knew him best said he was hardy. The remainder
said he was hard, his heart a stone. Still he was a human being, for,
like others, he cherished hobbies. His hobbies, however, were not
of that class which is compassed about by rest and roses. Instead,
they were clothed with a stern delight born of defiance and danger.
To work his ship across the Bay in the teeth of an adverse gale; to
weather a lee shore; to master a rebellious crew single-handed--these
were the wild diversions which satisfied him. Once, in the China
seas, his men grew mutinous, said the ship was "leaking like a
lobster-pot," and straightway put her about for Singapore; swore
they did not care what the skipper thought--in fact, would like
to talk to him a bit. The skipper was below when the first mate
brought down the news and a very pale face as well.
"Tell the men to muster!"
So soon as the mate's back was turned, John Anderson took a revolver
from a locker and charged it; then, ascending the companion-ladder,
he walked to the break of the poop, with his hands buried in the
pockets of a pea-jacket. Down below him were the men, lolling
about in a sullen crowd on the weather side of the quarter-deck.
They were thirty or forty in number, and were a vicious-looking
set.
"Now then, my men! Half an hour ago we were steering due northeast.
Who was it dared to lay the ship's nose the other way?"
The burly boatswain swung his way out of the crowd, planted his foot
on the first step of the poop-ladder, and stared up at the captain.
"I did, and be damned to you!" roared he. There was a loud report.
The boatswain dropped, shot in the leg. And the crew shivered under
a gleaming eye and a gleaming weapon.
"All hands 'bout ship!" cried the master. The wounded boatswain,
raising himself for a moment on one hand, piped faintly, and fell
back unconscious. But the men were already at their stations, and
in five minutes more the Chrysolite was heading northeast again.
Such incidents as these gave John Anderson an unenviable reputation
among sailors. It was seldom that the same crew served him twice.
Two voyages under this tartar were more than could be stood, and
from his subordinates, therefore, he gained nothing but hatred
and fear.
It was very difficult, then, to find out where Captain Anderson's
weakness lay. Everybody, of course, has his weakness. But this man
appeared to be all strength. His whole life seemed like a rod of
burnished steel--a passion-proof life, a fire-proof rod. The owners
of the Chrysolite, Messrs. Ruin & Ruin, of Billiter Street, piqued
themselves on knowing his tender point. He was avaricious, thought
they; he would do much for money, and they would some day try him
in the furnace. It was true, indeed, that the old sailor had amassed
considerable wealth during his frequent voyages to the East. It
was true also that he was sparing and saving; that he drove bargains
to the verge of perdition, and clinched them at the crucial moment.
But it was equally true that he was free from fraud. His teas were
what they pretended to be, his silks unimpeachable, and no man
ever came back upon him with complaints of their genuineness. The
world allowed that he was at least commercially honourable, but
felt fully convinced that he was eaten up with the desire for gold.
But the world was wrong. The captain himself was sometimes given
to metaphysical speculation, and even HE was puzzled to know if
his heart had a whit more feeling than any other pumping-engine.
Women he looked upon as frivolities of vanity to which he could
not reconcile his stern nature; and men he regarded as instruments
to be rigorously disciplined, not failing at the same time
to discipline himself. His heart was of no use to him except to
circulate his blood. In default, therefore, of loving anything,
he fell naturally to pursuing a difficult task--the piling up of a
mountain of gold. This was congenial solely because it was difficult,
and difficulties overcome were his only sources of satisfaction.
Now it happened that a new firm trading to the East, in competition
with Messrs. Ruin & Ruin, had made advances to Captain Anderson
with a view to engaging him in their service; and as they offered
liberal terms, including a handsome percentage, it was not long
before the old seaman was won over. Here is a chance, thought he, of
heaping up my mountain so much the more quickly, and I am determined
that my actions shall not be hampered by sentiment. Notwithstanding
this last threat, he found it a very unpleasant thing to break with
his old employers, one of whose ships he had commanded for a score
of years. But he would get scot-free of them before he finally concluded
negotiations with the new people. And so it came to pass that one
morning he walked along Billiter Street with his twenty-year-old
commission in his pocket.
It is curious how fond real old salts are of dress when ashore.
Here was John Anderson in a top-hat and kid gloves, looking anything
but at home in them. The glossy hat was a mockery to his bold
sea-worn face, and his big knuckles were almost bursting through
the soft kid with indignation at the affront put upon them.
He reached the chambers in which the firm of Messrs. Ruin & Ruin
was established, and ascended the staircase, for the office was on
the second floor. The senior partner was within, and the captain
was admitted into his room without delay.
"Glad to see you, Captain Anderson," said Mr. Ruin, in an unusually
cordial tone, at the same time shaking hands. "You've made a capital
passage, and freighted the Chrysolite well."
Mr. Ruin was a big, fat man who spoke oilily. His clean-shaven
face was never without the remnants of a smile--a smile, though,
which was not remarkable for its sincerity. Still, it had its
value,--in the market,--for it was a commercial smile. A pair of
small gray eyes were almost hidden by the obese curves of his cheeks;
but you learned in a very short time that they kept a sharp and
shrewd lookout from behind those ramparts. The two men sat down at
opposite sides of the table, the owner guessing from the captain's
manner that there was something in the wind, and the captain
thinking his employer's exuberance of civility betokened more than
was manifest.
"Yes, I brought her a quick passage," replied Anderson; then, looking
straight at the owner, "and it's the last she'll make under me."
The remnants of a smile coalesced, ploughing up Mr. Ruin's cheeks
into greasy furrows.
"My dear Captain, we could not hear of it! We're too old friends
to part like that."
"Well, sir, I've come this morning, for private reasons, to throw
up my commission," said the captain, simultaneously throwing down
his commission before the senior partner's eyes.
"I can't accept it, Mr. Anderson; I can't indeed," replied the
owner, picking up the parchment. "And I'll tell you why. My brother
and I have been thinking matters over, and we've really been obliged
to confess, for conscience' sake, that the Chrysolite is getting
old."
"Devilish old!" muttered the captain, forgetting himself for a
moment.
"Well, now I think of it again, I believe my brother did say she
was 'devilish old'--a strange coincidence. Still she is a fine
model of a boat. What d' ye think yourself?"
"She has rare lines," said the other, with a slight approach to
grave enthusiasm.
"The very remark I made myself only yesterday. Yes, we agreed she
was a pretty boat; and I admit, from sheer sentiment, I cannot bear
to think of her being chopped up for firewood. So inharmonious,
don't you think?"
The old sailor looked sullen and said nothing.
Mr. Ruin leaned his elbows well on to the table in a confidential
manner, and reduced his voice to husky whispering.
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