CHAPTER XXXIX
I should have been less than a man had I not thanked God for myescape. But it is in the sap of a tree to run upward in the spring,and in the blood of a man to live in the present and future, the pastgoing for little; and I had not crouched two minutes on the thwartbefore the steady lurch of the boat outwards and seawards fixed myattention. From this to asking myself by what chance I had been saved,and who were the men who sat round me--and evinced no more curiosityabout me than if they had been sent to the spot purely and simply torescue me--was but a step.
I took it, scanned them stealthily, and was far from reassured; thesea-garb was then new to me, and these wearers of it were the wildestof their class. The fog which enfolded us magnified their clumsyshoulders and great knitted night-caps and the tarry ringlets thathung in festoons about their scarred and tanned faces. The hugegnarled hands that swung to and fro with the oars were no more likehuman flesh than the sea-boots which the men wore, drawn high on theirthighs. They had rings in their ears, and from all came a reek oftobacco, and salt-fish, and strange oaths; nor did it need theaddition of the hanger and pistol which each wore in his belt toinform me that I had fallen once again among fierce and desperate men.
Dismayed by all I saw, it yet surprised me that no one questioned me.He who sat in the stern of the boat, and seemed to be in command, hada whistle continually at his lips, and his eyes on the curtain of hazebefore us; but if the tiller and navigation of the boat took up histhoughts, there were others. These, however, were content to pull onin silence, eyeing me with dull brutish stares, until the fog liftingdisclosed on a sudden the hull of a tall ship looming high beside us.A shrill piping came from it--a sound I had heard before, but taken tobe the scream of a sea-bird; and this, as we drew up, was followedby a hail. The man by my side let his whistle fall that he mightanswer--which he did, in French. A moment later our boat gratedagainst the heaving timbers, and I, looking up through the raw morningair, saw a man in a boat-cloak spring on the bulwarks and wave hishat.
"Welcome!" he cried, lustily. "And God save the King! A near thingthey tell me, sir. But come on board, come on board, and we shall seeDunquerque the sooner. Up with you, Sir John, if you please, and letus be gone with the fog, and no heel-taps!"
Then, without another word, I knew what had happened; I knew why theboat which had picked me up, had been waiting on the beach at thathour; and as I rose to my feet on the seat, and clutched the ropeladder which the sailors threw down to me, my knees knocked together;for I foresaw what I had to expect. But the deck was surer ground fordebate or explanation than the cockle-shell wherein I sat, and whichtossed and ducked under me, threatening every moment to upset mystomach; and I went up giddily, grasped the bulwark, and, aided byhalf-a-dozen grinning seamen, night-capped and ringletted, I sprangdown on the deck.
The man in the boat-cloak received me with a clumsy bow, and shook myhand. "Give you joy, Sir John!" he said. "Glad to see you, sir. Ibegan to fear that you were taken! A little more, and I must have leftyou. But all's well that ends well, and--your pardon one moment."
With that he broke off, and shouted half-a-dozen orders in French andEnglish and French to the sailors; and in a moment the capstan, as Iafterwards heard it called, was creaking round, and there was a hurryof feet, first to one side and then to the other, and a great shoutingand a hauling at ropes. The ship heeled over so suddenly that if I hadnot caught at the rail I must have lost my footing, and for an instantthe green seas seemed to swell up on a level with the slanting deck asif they would swallow us bodily. Instead, the sloop, still heelingover, began to gather way, and presently was hissing through thewater, piling the white surf before it, only to pour it foaming toeither side. The haze, like a moving curtain, began to glide by us;and looking straight ahead I saw a yellow glare that told of the sunrising over the French dunes.
The man who had received me, and who seemed to be the master, returnedto my side. "We are under way, sir," he said, "and I am glad of it.But you will like to see Mr. Birkenhead? He would have met you, butthe sea-colic took him as he lay on the swell outside Dunquerquewhistling for a wind. He gets it badly one time, and one time he is ashearty as you are. He is better this morning, but he is ill enough."
I muttered that I would see him by-and-by, when he was better. That Iwould lie down a little, and----
"Oh! I have got a bunk for you in his cabin," the master answeredbriskly. "I thought you would want to talk State secrets. Follow me,if you please, and look to your sea-legs, sir."
He led the way to a hatch or trap-door, and raising it began todescend. Not daring to refuse I followed him, down a steep ladder intothe dark bowels of the ship, the reek of tar and bilge-water, cheeseand old rum, growing stronger with every foot we descended. At thebottom of the ladder he pushed aside a sliding panel, and signedme to pass through the opening. I obeyed, and found myself in asort of dog-hole--as it seemed to me who knew nothing of ships'cabins--lighted only by a span-wide round window, so dark, therefore,that I stood a moment groping, and so close and foul-smelling that mygorge rose.
Out of the gloom came a groan as of a sick sheep. "Here is Sir John,safe and sound!" cried the master in his sea tones. "There is goodmedicine for you, Mr. Birkenhead." And he peered into the darkness.
The only answer was a second groan. "Do you hear, sir?" the captainrepeated. "Sir John is here."
A voice feebly yet unmistakably d----d Sir John and the captain.
The master chuckled hoarsely. "Set a frigate behind us with a nooseflying at the yard-arm, and there is no man like him!" he said. "None,Sir John; and I have carried him across seventy times and over, sickand well, he should know the road from the Marsh to Southwark if anyman does. But let him be for the present, and do you lie down in thebunk above him, and I will bring you some Nantz and a crust. When heis better, he will be as glad to see you as if you were his brother."
I obeyed, and fortified by the strong waters he brought me, was gladto lie down, and under cover of darkness consider my position and whatchance I had of extricating myself from it. For the time, and probablyuntil we reached Dunquerque, I was safe; but what would happen whenBirkenhead--the man whom the Jacobites called the Royal Post, and whodoubtless knew Sir John Fenwick by sight--what would happen, I say,when he roused himself, and found that he had not only taken off thewrong man but left Sir John to his fate? Would he not be certain tovisit the mischance on my head? Or if I escaped his hands, what must Iexpect, a stranger, ashore in a foreign land with little money, and nolanguage at my command? I shuddered at the prospect; yet shudderedmore at the thought of Birkenhead's anger; so that presently all myfore-looking resolved itself into a strenuous effort to put off theevil day, and prolong by lying still and quiet the sleep into which heappeared to have fallen.
He lay so close to me, divided only by the one board on which Ireclined, that all the noises of the ship--the creaking of thetimbers, the wash of the seas as they foamed along the quarter, andthe banging of blocks and ropes--noises that never ceased, failed tocover the sound of his breathing. And this nearness to me, taken withthe fact that I could not see him, so tormented me with doubt whetherhe was awake or asleep, was recovering or growing worse, that morethan once I raised my head and listened until my neck ached. In thetwilight of the cabin I could see his cloak swaying lazily on a hook;on another hung a belt with pistols, that slid this way and that withthe swing of the vessel. And presently watching these and listening tothe regularity of his breathing, I laid my head down and did the lastthing I proposed to do or should have thought possible; for I fellasleep.
I awoke with a man's hand on my shoulder; and sat up with a start ofalarm, a man's voice in my ear. The floor of the cabin slanted nolonger, the cloak and swordbelt hang motionless on the wall; and inplace of the sullen plash of the waves and the ceaseless creaking ofjoists and knees, that had before filled the inwards of the ship, amedley of shouts and cries, as shrill as they were unintelligible,filled the pauses of the windla
ss. These things were, and I took themin and drew the inference, that we were in harbour; but mechanically,for it seemed, at the moment, that such wits as terror left me were inthe grasp of the man who shook me and swore at me by turns; and whoseshort hair--for he was wigless--fairly bristled with rage andperplexity.
"You! Who the devil are _you?_" he cried, frantically. "What witchcraftis this? Here, Gill! Gill! Do you hear, you tarry pudding-head? Who isthis you have put in my cabin? And where is Fenwick? Where----"
"Where is Sir John?" cried a voice somewhat distant, as if thespeaker stooped to the hatchway. "He is there, Mr. Birkenhead. I sethim there myself. And between gentlemen, such words as those, Mr.Birkenhead----"
"As what?" cried the man who held me.
"As tarry. But never mind; between friends----"
"Friends be hanged!" cried my assailant with violence. "Who is thisfool? That is what I asked. And you, have you no tongue?" hecontinued, glaring at me. "Who are you, and where is Sir JohnFenwick?"
Before I could answer, the master, who had descended, crowded himselfinto the doorway. "That is Sir John," he said, sulkily. "I thoughtthat you----"
"This, Sir John?" the other exclaimed.
"Ay, to be sure."
"As much Sir John as you are the warming-pan!" Birkenhead retorted;and released me with so much violence that my head rapped against thepanels. "This, Sir John Fenwick?" And then, "Oh, man, man, you havedestroyed me," he cried. "Where is my reputation now? You have leftthe real Simon Pure to be taken, and brought off this--this--youbooby, you grinning ape, who are you?"
Trembling, I told him my name.
"And Sir John?" he said. "Where is he?"
"I left him at Ashford," I muttered.
"It is a lie!" he cried in a voice that thrilled me to the marrow."You did not leave him at Ashford! He was with you on the beach--hewas with you and you deserted him! You left him to be taken, and savedyourself. You wretch! You Judas!"
God knows by what intuition he spoke. For me, I swear that it was notuntil that moment, not until he had put the possibility into wordsthat I knew--ay, knew, for that was the only word, so certain was Iafter the event--that the man who had ridden down the beach and calledvainly on the sailors to wait, the man from whom we had rowed awaylaughing, taking with us his last hope of life, was not Matthew Smith,but Sir John Fenwick! _Now_, things which should have opened my eyesthen, and had not, came back to me. I recalled how tall and gaunt therider had looked through the haze, and a something novel in his voice,and plaintive in his tone. True, I had heard the click-clack ofSmith's horse's shoes as clearly as I ever heard anything in my life;but if Sir John, alarmed by the sound of my hasty departure, andfearing treachery, had sallied out, and leaping on the first horse hefound, had ridden after me, then all was clear.
I saw that, and cowered before the men's accusing eyes: so that theyhad been more than Solomons had they taken my sudden disorder foraught but guilt--guilt brought home. For Birkenhead, his rage wasterrible. He seized me by the throat, and disregarding my pitifulpleas that I had not known, I had not known, he dragged me from theberth, and made as if he would choke me there and then with his nakedhands. Instead, however, he suddenly loosed me. "Faugh," he cried; "Iwill not dirty my hands with you! That such as you--_you_ should be aman's death! _You!_ But you shall not escape. Gill, up with him! Upwith him and to the yard-arm. String him up! He shall swing before heis an hour older!"
"In Dunquerque harbour?" said the other.
"Why not?"
"Why not?" said the master. "Because, Mr. Birkenhead, I serve a King_de jure_ and not _de facto_. That is why not. And if you want anotherreason----"
"Well?"
"I am not aware that His Majesty has raised you to the Bench," themaster answered sturdily.
"Oh, you have turned sea-lawyer, have you?"
"Law is law," said the shipmaster. "England, or France, or the highseas."
"And owling is owling!" the other retorted with passion. "Andsmuggling, smuggling! You are a fine man to talk! If you will not hanghim--as they will hang Fenwick, so help me, never doubt it!--what willyou do with him?"
"Give my men a bag of sand apiece, and let him run the gauntlet," thecaptain answered, with a phlegm that froze me. "Trust me, sir, theywill not leave much of a balance owing."
It was terrible to see how Birkenhead, vain, choleric and maddened bydisappointment, jumped at the cruel suggestion. For me, I shrank intothe bunk into the farthest corner, and cried for mercy; I might aswell have cried to the winds. I was hauled out, the word passed up,and despite my desperate struggles, prayers and threats--the latternot unmingled with the name of Shrewsbury, which did but hardenthem--I was dragged to the foot of the ladder. Thence I was carried ondeck, where, half-dead with fear and powerless in the hands of threestout seamen, I met none but grinning faces and looks of cruelanticipation. Few need to be told with what zest the common herd flockto a scene of cruel sport, how hard are their bosoms, how fiendish thepleasure which all but the most humane and thoughtful take in helplesssuffering. Small was the chance that my pleas of innocence and appealsfor a hearing would gain attention. All was ready, the men bared theirarms and licked their lips, and in a moment I must have been set forthe baiting.
But in certain circumstances the extremity of fear is another name forthe extremity of daring; and the master, at this last moment going torange the crew in two lines, and one of the sailors who had me incharge releasing me for an instant, that he might arm himself with asand-bag, I saw my opportunity. With a desperate swing I wrenchedmyself from the grasp of the other men. That done, a single boundcarried me to the plank which joined the deck to the shore. I flewacross it, swift as the wind; and as the whole crew seeing what hadhappened broke from their stations and with yells and whoops of gleetook up the chase, I sprang on shore. Bursting recklessly through thefringe of idlers whom the arrival of the ship had brought to thewater's edge, I sped across the open wharf, threaded a labyrinth ofbales and casks, and darted up the first lane to which I came.
Fear gave me wings, and I left the wharf a score of yards ahead of mypursuers. But the seamen, who had taken up the chase with the gusto ofboys let loose from school, made up for the lack of speed by whoopinglike demons; and the English among them halloing "Stop Thief!" and theothers some French words alike in import, the alarm went abreast ofme. Fortunately the lane was almost deserted, and I easily evadedthe halfhearted efforts to stop me, which one or two made. It seemedthat I should for the present get away. But at the last moment, at thehead of the lane fate waited for me: an old woman standing in adoorway--and who made, as I came up, as if she was afraid of me--flunga bucket after me. It fell in front of me, I trod on the edge and fellwith a shriek of pain.
Before I could rise or speak, the foremost of the sailors came up andstruck me on the head with a sand-bag; and the others as they arrivedrained blows on me without mercy. I managed to utter a cry, theninstinctively covered my head with my arms. They belaboured me untilthey were tired and I almost senseless; when, thinking me dead, theywent off whistling, and I crawled into the nearest doorway and faintedaway.
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