by Kirk Munroe
CHAPTER VII.
DEFYING A FRIGATE.
"I wonder what's up now?" said White Baldwin, in a troubled tone, as hewatched the approaching man-of-war's boat.
"Mischief of some kind," growled David Gidge, as he spat fiercely intothe water. "I hain't never knowed a Frencher to be good fur nawthin'else but mischief."
"Perhaps it's a health officer," suggested Cabot.
"It's worse than that," replied White.
"A customs officer, then?"
"He comes from the shore."
"Then perhaps it's an invitation for us to go and dine with the Frenchcaptain?"
"I've no doubt it's an invitation of some kind, and probably one thatis meant to be accepted."
At this juncture the French boat dashed alongside, and, without leavinghis place, the lieutenant in command said in fair English:
"Is not zat ze boat of Monsieur Baldwin of Pretty Harbour on ze coteFrancaise?"
"It is," replied the young skipper, curtly.
"You haf, of course, ze papaire of health, and ze papaire of clearancefor St. Pierre?"
"No; I have no papers except a certificate of registry."
"Ah! Is it possible? In zat case ze commandant of ze frigate 'Isla'will be please to see you on board at your earlies' convenience."
"I thought so," said White, in a low tone. Then aloud, he replied:"All right, lieutenant. I'll sail over there, and hunt up a good placeto anchor, just beyond your ship, and as soon as I've made all snugI'll come aboard. Up with your mud hook, Dave."
As Mr. Gidge began to work the windlass, Cabot sprang to help him, and,within a minute, the recently dropped anchor was again broken out.Then, at a sharp order, David hoisted and trimmed the jib, leavingCabot to cat the anchor. The fore and main sails had not been lowered.Thus within two minutes' time the schooner was again under way, andstanding across the harbour towards the big warship.
The rapidity of these movements apparently somewhat bewildered theFrench officer, who, while narrowly watching them, did not utter a wordof remonstrance. Now, as the "Sea Bee" moved away, his boat wasstarted in the same direction.
Without paying any further attention to it, White Baldwin luffed hislittle craft across the frigate's bow, and the moment he was hiddenbeyond her, bore broad away, passing close along the opposite side ofthe warship, from which hundreds of eyes watched his movements withlanguid curiosity.
The boat, in the meantime, had headed for the stern of the frigate,with a view to gaining her starboard gangway, somewhere near which itsofficer supposed White to be already anchoring. What was hisamazement, therefore, as he drew within the shadow of his ship, to seethe schooner shoot clear of its further side, and go flying down thewind, lee rail under. For a moment he looked to see her round to andcome to anchor. Then, springing to his feet, he yelled for her to doso; upon which White Baldwin took off his cap, and made a mocking bow.
At this the enraged officer whipped out a revolver, and began to firewildly in the direction of the vanishing schooner, which, for answer,displayed a British Union Jack at her main peak. Three minutes laterthe saucy craft had rounded a projecting headland and disappeared,leaving the outwitted officer to get aboard his ship at his leisure,and make such report as seemed to him best.
At this the enraged officer whipped out a revolver.]
After the exciting incident was ended, and the little "Sea Bee" hadgained the safety of open water, Cabot grasped the young skipper's handand shook it heartily.
"It was fine!" he cried, "though I don't see how you dared do it.Weren't you afraid they would fire at us?"
"Not a bit," laughed White. "They didn't realise what we were up tountil we were well past them, and then they hadn't time to get readybefore we were out of range. I don't believe they would dare fire onthe British flag, anyway; especially as we hadn't done a thing to them.I almost wish they had, though; for I would be willing to lose thisschooner and a good deal besides for the sake of bringing on a war thatshould drive the French from Newfoundland."
"But what did they want of you, and what would have happened if you hadnot given them the slip?"
"I expect they wanted to hold me here until they heard how our case hadgone, so that I couldn't get back to the factory before they had achance to run up there and seize it. Like as not they would have keptus on one excuse or another--lack of papers or something of thatsort--for a week or two, and by the time they let us go some one elsewould have owned the Pretty Harbour lobster factory."
"Would they really have dared do such a thing?" asked Cabot, to whomthe idea of foreign interference in the local affairs of Newfoundlandwas entirely new.
"Certainly they would. The French dare do anything they choose on thiscoast, and no one interferes."
"Well," said Cabot, "it seems a very curious situation, and one that astranger finds hard to understand. However, so long as the Frenchpossess such a power for mischief, I congratulate you more than ever onhaving escaped them. At the same time I am disappointed at not beingable to land at St. Pierre, and should like to know where you are goingto take me next."
"I declare! In my hurry to get out of that trap, I forgot all aboutyou wanting to land," exclaimed White, "and now there isn't a placefrom which you can get to St. Johns short of Port aux Basques, which isabout one hundred and fifty miles west of here."
"How may I reach St. Johns from there?"
"By the railway across the island, of which Port aux Basques is theterminus. A steamer from Sidney, on Cape Breton, connects with a trainthere every other day."
"Very good; Port aux Basques it is," agreed Cabot, "and I shan't besorry after all for a chance to cross the island by train and see whatits interior looks like."
So our young engineer continued his involuntary voyage, and devoted histime to acquiring all sorts of information about the great northernisland, as well as to the study of navigation. In this latter line ofresearch he even succeeded in producing a favorable impression uponDavid Gidge, who finally admitted that it wasn't always safe to judge aman from his appearance, and that this young feller had more in himthan showed at first sight.
While thus creating a favorable impression for himself, Cabot grew muchinterested in the young skipper of the schooner. He was surprised tofind one in his position so gentlemanly a chap, as well as so generallywell informed, and wondered where he had picked it all up.
"Are there good schools at Pretty Harbour?" he asked, with a view tosolving this problem.
"There is one, but it is only fairly good," answered White.
"Did you go to it?"
"Oh, no," laughed the other. "I went to school as well as to collegein St. Johns. You see, father was a merchant there until he bought agreat tract of land on the west coast. Then he gave up his business inthe city and came over here to establish a lobster factory, which atthat time promised to pay better than anything else on the island. Heleft us all in St. Johns, and it was only after his death that we cameover here to live and try to save something from the wreck of hisproperty. Now I don't know what is to become of us; for, unless one isallowed to can lobsters, there isn't much chance of making a living onthe French shore. If it wasn't for the others, I should take thisschooner and try a trading trip to Labrador, but mother has become somuch of an invalid that I hate to leave her with only my sister."
"What is your sister's name?"
"Cola."
"That's an odd name, and one I never heard before, but I think I likeit."
"So do I," agreed White; "though I expect I should like any namebelonging to her, for she is a dear girl. One reason I am so fond ofthis schooner is because it is named for her."
"How is that?"
"Why, it is the 'Sea Bee,' and these are her initials."
It was early on the second morning after leaving St. Pierre that the"Sea Bee" drifted slowly into the harbour of Port aux Basques, wherethe yacht-like steamer "Bruce" lay beside its single wharf. She hadjust completed her six-hour run across Cabot
Strait, from North Sidney,eighty-five miles away, and close at hand stood the narrow-gauge trainthat was to carry her passengers and mails to St. Johns. It wouldoccupy twenty-eight hours in making the run of 550 miles from coast tocoast, and our lad looked forward to the trip with pleasantanticipations.
But he was again doomed to disappointment; for while the schooner wasstill at some distance from the wharf, the train was seen to be inmotion. In vain did Cabot shout and wave his cap. No attention waspaid to his signals, and a minute later the train had disappeared.There would not be another for two days, and the young engineer gazedabout him with dismay. Port aux Basques appeared to be only a railwayterminus, offering no accommodation for travellers, and presenting,with its desolate surroundings, a scene of cheerless inhospitality.
"That's what I call tough luck!" exclaimed White Baldwin,sympathetically.
"Isn't it?" responded Cabot; "and what I am to do with myself in thisdreary place after you are gone, I can't imagine."
"Seems to me you'd better stay right where you are, and run up thecoast with us to St. George's Bay, where there is another station atwhich you can take the next train."
"I should like to," replied Cabot, "if you would allow me to pay for mypassage; but I don't want to impose upon your hospitality any longer."
"Nonsense!" exclaimed White. "You are already doing your full share ofthe work aboard here, and even if you weren't of any help, I should beonly too happy to have you stay with us until the end of the run, forthe pleasure of your company."
"That settles it," laughed Cabot. "I will go with you as far as St.George's, and be glad of the chance. But, while we are here, I think Iought to send in the news about the 'Lavinia.'"
As White agreed that this should be done at once, Cabot was set ashore,and made his way to the railway telegraph office, where he asked theoperator to whom in St. Johns he should send the news of a wreck.
"What wreck?" asked the operator.
"Steamer 'Lavinia.'"
"There's no need to send that to anybody, for it's old news, and wentthrough here last night as a press despatch. 'Lavinia' went too closeto an iceberg, that capsized, and struck her with long, under-waterprojection. Lifted steamer from water, broke her back, boilerexploded, and that was the end of 'Lavinia.' Mate's boat reached St.Johns, and 'Comattus' has gone to look for other possible survivors."
As Cabot had nothing to add to this story, he merely sent a shortdespatch to Mr. Hepburn, announcing his own safety, and then returnedto the schooner with his news.
"Good!" exclaimed White, when he heard it. "I hope the 'Comattus' willfind those she has gone to look for; and I'm mighty glad she has gotsomething to do that will keep her away from here for a few dayslonger. Now, Dave, up with the jib."