‘Cap’n Cummings giv’ me the loan o’ her, Sir. ’E’ll allow there’s naught illegal in that.’
‘Nay, naught illegal, but ’tis monstrous fishy seeing that I know you to have sailed from Lymington last night in the Sally Ann. What cargo are you carrying; or are you in ballast?’
‘In ballast, may it please your honour,’ replied Dan sarcastically.
Nixon turned to a petty officer who had scrambled aboard after him. ‘Nip down into her hold, Higgins, and take a look-see.’
As the man moved to obey Dan threw up a hand to restrain him and grumbled: ‘Easy, easy. If ’e must stick ’e’s nose into other folks’ business ’tis a cargo o’ salt we have aboard, an’ we’re bound for Le Havre.’
‘So that’s the lay, is it?’ Nixon’s heavy face broke into a sly grin. ‘All right, Higgins, we’ll take his word for it.’
‘B’ain’t naught illegal in that, neither,’ said Dan with a scowl.
‘Not if you land your salt openly at Le Havre; but I’m not in King Louis’s pay, so that’s not my affair.’
As Nixon turned to regain his boat he suddenly caught sight of Roger who, up till then, had been standing half-concealed from him by the big wheel. Halting, he exclaimed in surprise:
‘Why, ’tis Master Brook! What would you be doing here?’
‘I’m shortly going into the Navy, Sir,’ Roger replied promptly. ‘And I came on this trip to try out my sea legs.’
‘’Tis strange company to find a young gentleman in,’ Nixon frowned. ‘I’ll make no accusations I can’t prove: but if there’s contraband in the vessel next time I board her ’twill be my duty to take you, if you’re among her crew, and charge you with the rest.’
Roger flushed slightly as he lied: ‘I’m sure Dan Izzard and his men intend nothing illegal, Sir.’
‘I am entitled to my doubts of that, and if you’re here for a lark it has lasted long enough. If ’tis no more than a sea trip you sought come with me, and I’ll give you passage home.’
Thanks, Sir, but I’ve never been abroad and I’m all agog to see Le Havre, so, if you’ll excuse me, I prefer to stay with Dan.’
‘Unless my wits deceive me, should you remain aboard the Albatross there’s a chance of you finding yourself in a French galley instead of seeing Le Havre. Come now! Come home with me, and let me earn your mother’s gratitude.’
Roger did not fully take in the meaning of this allusion to a French galley and, even had he done so, it seemed to him now that so much depended on his being able to land in France, that it is doubtful if he would have allowed the warning to influence him. As it was he simply shook his head and said again: ‘Thanks, Sir, but I prefer to stay with Dan.’
Nixon shrugged his broad shoulders. ‘So be it then; but I fear you’ll have cause to repent of your folly before you’re much older.’
With a curt nod to Dan he went over the ship’s side, followed by his man, and a moment later the gig’s crew were giving way lustily as they pulled him back to the Expedition.
The sails of the Albatross were re-set and, leaving the Revenue cutter behind, she was soon skimming over the water towards the French coast once more.
A little belatedly, and uneasily now, Roger was thinking over Mr. Nixon’s sinister remark, that he might find himself in a French galley instead of seeing Le Havre. If Dan had a cargo of Lymington salt aboard it was obviously destined for France. The French, so Roger had heard, were forced to pay an exceptionally high price for this simple commodity, owing to an exorbitant tax that their king had put upon it. The tax was called the gabelle, and was one of the French people’s principal reasons for discontent against the monarchy. Since Dan had for years earned his living by smuggling illicit spirits into England it seemed most unlikely that he would willingly pay a heavy import duty in order to land a cargo of salt in France.
Having reached the conclusion that Dan contemplated making a big illegal profit at both ends of his trip, Roger was not particularly perturbed by the additional risk in which he had unwittingly involved himself, because Dan had for so many years proved himself a capable and canny smuggler, but he became extremely worried at the thought that the Albatross might both unload her cargo of salt and take on a new one of spirits in some secluded cove, and not enter the port of Le Havre at all.
Striving to conceal his anxiety he went up to Dan and asked: ‘What time should we make Le Havre, Dan?’
‘First light tomorrow morning, all bein’ well, lad,’ Dan replied quite casually. ‘We’ve a rendezvous, as the Frenchies call it, wi’ some friends o’ mine farther down the coast tonight. Then we beats up channel to the port to pick up our nice drop o’ liquor, an’ sails for home at dusk.’
This was highly reassuring, and Roger smothered a sigh of relief, as it now seemed clear that they were not only really going to Le Havre, but that he would have the whole day in which to go ashore and dispose of his jewels.
‘Do the French Preventives give you much trouble?’ he asked after a moment.
‘Nay. They’s nothin’ nigh so smart as our chaps, nor so numerous. ’Tis good money for old rope so long as ’e don’t fall foul o’ one o’ they’s men o’ war. Look, lad! Do’st see the dark streak on the horizon, yonder? ’Tis the coast of France.’
All else forgotten, Roger picked up Dan’s spy-glass and, glueing his eye to it, endeavoured to make out the features of that strange land where lived England’s traditional enemies, and of which he had heard so much.
Occasionally Dan glanced over his shoulder at Mr. Nixon’s cutter. He had thought that after boarding him she would put back towards England, if only temporarily, but to his annoyance she continued to follow in the wake of the Albatross under three-quarter sail. Now, as he luffed and brought the schooner round on to a westward course so that she should run down the Normandy coast while still some miles distant from it, the cutter ignored his action and, somewhat to his surprise, continued on a course towards Le Havre.
Soon after this they took their evening meal, and when Roger came on deck again the cutter had disappeared from sight. But now they were considerably nearer the French coast and here and there could see small craft working their way along it.
About nine o’clock, just as the summer dusk was beginning to fall, they discerned twenty or thirty dots on the horizon astern, which Dan said were the Le Havre fishing fleet putting out to sea. Roger watched them idly through the spy-glass for a while. They too, seemed to be on a westward course as, although they grew no larger, they did not drop from view; and one of them that seemed to be much larger than the rest even appeared to be gaining on the Albatross.
He was just about to draw Dan’s attention to this bigger ship when he was distracted by the smuggler giving orders for the lowering of the main and fore sails; as they had now come opposite that part of the coast where he had his rendezvous and he intended to lay off there until full darkness would cover his landing operation.
When Roger looked through the glass again he saw that not one but two of the ships in the fishing fleet were of different build and, clearly now, much larger than the rest. Both had detached themselves from the scattered line of dots and were coming on ahead of them under full sail. Running over to Dan he pointed them out to him.
Dan took the glass and studied them for a moment. ‘’Tis two traders, what have sailed out o’ Le Havre on the tide, like as not,’ he declared. ‘But take the glass, lad, and keep ’e’s eye upon they.’
Again Roger focused on the two oncoming ships for a few moments. There seemed something vaguely familiar about the rig of the smaller of the two, and suddenly he recognised her.
‘The smaller one,’ he cried, ‘’Tis Mr. Nixon’s cutter.’
Dan snatched the telescope from him. ‘Aye, lad, ’e’s right!’ he grunted. ‘What devil’s work would he be up to now? And what be other craft? Hi! Fred Mullins! What make ’e of yon ship? The bigger o’ the two.’
The ex-naval rating took the glass and, steadying it against
a stay, took a long look at the approaching ships. Identification was not easy, owing to the falling twilight and the fact that the stranger craft being dead astern only her bows and fore sails were visible.
‘She’s a Frenchie,’ he muttered. ‘And if I mistake not, a thirty-six-gun frigate.’
‘God’s death!’ swore Dan. ‘’Tis as I feared. That bastard Nixon has betrayed us. Just think on it. What sort o’ Englishman is he who would bring the Frogs upon us, an’ send we to a daily floggin’ in they’s galleys. Avast, there! Avast! Up sail an’ away.’
Instantly every member of the crew flung himself into feverish activity. To be caught smuggling contraband into England was one thing, except on overwhelming evidence no bench of magistrates would convict; to be captured by the French quite another—it meant a hideous and long-drawn-out death, rotting in chains shackled to an oar, in one of the French war galleys. In a bare ten minutes every sail the schooner could carry was set and she was standing out to sea, their one hope now being to escape in the gathering darkness.
As the light deepened they watched their pursuers with terrible anxiety. Both ships had altered course and were now beating seaward on lines converging with that of the schooner in the hope of cutting her off. The frigate and the Expedition were both faster ships than their prey and it was soon perceptible that they were gaining on her.
Roger prayed for darkness as he had never prayed before, yet it seemed that the long summer twilight scarcely deepened and that night would never fall. Dan stood grimly by the wheel getting every ounce of way out of the schooner of which she was capable. His crew had wrenched aside her hatches and, working like madmen, were now jettisoning her cargo, in the hope that if they could only get all the great blocks of salt overboard before the frigate came up with her they would be able to show a hold free of contraband.
As Roger lent a hand, he kept an anxious eye on the frigate. Staggering under the weight of one of the blocks he was just about to tip it overboard when he saw a little cloud of white smoke issue from her fo’c’sle head. A moment later he heard a sharp report. He did not see the shot but guessed that their pursuer had fired a round from her long gun at some point ahead of their bows to bring them to.
The shadows had deepened now and, ignoring the warning, Dan held on his course, still hoping that night might cover their escape from French waters.
The gun boomed again and Roger saw the second shot ricochet across the waves within ten yards of the schooner’s starboard quarter. Still Dan doggedly held on and gave no order to lower sail.
A third time a little white cloud issued from the frigate’s fo’c’sle and the report echoed across the water, to be followed almost instantly by the crashing of woodwork in the schooner’s stern. The roundshot had found a mark in her poop, and, crashing through it, bounded along her deck.
As to what happened next Roger was not quite sure. He heard the gun fire a fourth time, then there was a frightful splintering of wood. The schooner’s main mast heeled over and came crashing down. Sails, ropes and spars seemed to be flying in all directions. Something hit him a terrific buffet in the back, knocking him off his feet and throwing him forward. Next moment he found himself in the water struggling for his life.
7
The Man in Red
Roger was a good swimmer, but never before had he been plunged into the sea fully dressed; within a moment he found that his sodden clothes hampered him enormously. In addition he had coins in his boots and several pounds weight of precious metal around his waist. As he felt the pull of them dragging him down he was overtaken by panic and opened his mouth to let out a yell. His shout for help was cut short by a wave crest slapping into his face. Choked by sea water, he gulped, and went under.
The next minutes were a nightmare to him. Lack of breath caused a suffocating pain in his chest and as he sank he thought that he was done for. In a violent effort to save himself he attempted to kick off his boots; they did not come off but his frantic kicking brought him back to the surface.
Gasping in air he struck out wildly, with no thought of direction or husbanding his strength but simply with the animal instinct to keep himself from drowning. After a dozen flailing strokes he saw that he was heading towards the French frigate. Seen from low down on the water she seemed much larger now and she was still coming on under full sail.
By swimming with all his strength he found that he could keep afloat and make a little headway; but he knew that the frigate would pass him at some distance and that, in the gathering gloom, it was most unlikely that anyone on her deck would see him struggling there in the water.
Thrusting himself round he looked towards the Albatross. He was now about two hundred yards astern of her, since her way had carried her on that far before the shattered main mast, that now hung over her side, had dragged her to a standstill.
He wondered desperately if he would have the strength to gain her. Georgina’s treasure now threatened to be his death; it hung like a thick belt of lead resting on his hips, and, as it was under his clothes, there was no way in which he could get rid of it. With every stroke he took its weight seemed to increase and it kept him so low in the water that every wavelet broke over his face, filling his eyes and nostrils with salty spume. Despair now gripped his heart and he felt that each moment would be his last.
His range of vision was very limited and he had only glimpsed the schooner by heaving himself up with a special effort, so he did not even see the big spar that had come adrift from her main mast until it was washed right on top of him. With a gasp of relief he threw his arms over it and hung there, panting.
Having got his breath back and shaken the water from his eyes he hoisted his head above the spar and took a quick look round. He was still a good hundred and fifty yards astern of the disabled Albatross. The frigate was now coming up abreast of her and in the failing light he could just make out the Expedition a quarter of a mile astern of the frigate. Dropping back he remained for about five minutes swaying gently in the water while his agitated mind sought a way of getting himself rescued.
When he looked again he saw that the frigate and cutter had both hove to. Their lanterns were lit and the former was lowering a boat. It was too dark to make out any details but faintly he could hear a French officer shouting orders and then the splash of the oars as the boat was pulled towards the Albatross to take the smugglers in her prisoner.
At that thought his heart sank even lower. As long as he could cling to the heavy spar he was safe from a watery grave but rescue meant the frightful prospect of being sent as a slave to the French war galleys. For a few moments he was racked with indecision whether to hang on there, on the chance of being washed ashore or picked up by another ship, or to put all his strength into shouts for help, and accept the grim alternative.
The summer night had now closed down, and when he bobbed up he could make out the stricken Albatross only as a vague whitish blur; the positions of the frigate and cutter were indicated by their lights. For a few moments more he wavered, then he decided that he dared not ignore this chance of rescue, however frightful the future that it portended, and he began to shout.
After a minute he thought he heard an answering cry, and paused to listen, but it did not come again and he realised that an altercation was going on between Dan and his men and the Frenchmen in the boat. Panicking again at the thought that he might not be able to make himself heard he began to yell with all the force of his lungs.
Again he paused to listen, there was silence now. The Albatross was no longer visible and the lights of the frigate and cutter seemed farther off. Grimly it came to him that the tide must be carrying him away from them, and frantically now, he called again and again; but there was no response.
After ten minutes, his throat sore and his breath coming in gasps from the effort, he gave up. Full darkness had come and as he could now see only the mast lights of the two ships in which his hope of rescue lay, he knew that he must have drifted at least half a mile aw
ay from them.
His one hope was that he would be able to cling on to the spar until he was washed ashore or daylight came with a new chance of rescue. Fortunately it was high summer and the water was quite warm but, even so, he feared that his hands would grow numb and lose their grip on the spar before many hours had passed.
With the idea of finding an easier hold he began to pull his way along the spar and soon came upon a length of rope that was trailing from it. Hanging on, first with one hand then with the other, he got the rope under his arms and managed to lash himself to the spar sufficiently firmly for only a light hold on it to be necessary to keep his head above water. Slightly relieved in mind he relaxed a little but now that he had leisure to think for the first time since he had been thrown overboard his thoughts brought him little comfort.
The thing that had made the greatest impression on him in the past hectic hour was Mr. Ollie Nixon’s betrayal of his compatriots to the French. It was obvious now that the Expedition had left the Albatross’s tail only to make for Le Havre, and that Nixon had tipped off the authorities there that a smuggler craft was just down the coast well inside French territorial waters. He had then followed the frigate in order to gloat over the ill fate that he had brought upon the unfortunate Dan and his companions. Roger would never have believed that an Englishman could be capable of such baseness and he made a mental vow that, if he lived, he would somehow get even with Nixon on Dan’s account as well as his own. But, at the moment, the chances of his surviving to carry out his vow looked far from good.
The mast lights of both the ships had now disappeared below Roger’s limited horizon and, although the stars had come out, there was no hint of human life whichever way he peered through the surrounding gloom.
For what seemed an eternity he hung there, submerged up to his armpits in water, his dangling legs swaying gently with the motion of the waves. Georgina’s prophecy that water would always be dangerous to him recurred to his mind. He thought how surprised she would be if she knew how swiftly it had been fulfilled; as by this time she no doubt fondly imagined him to be lodged at some comfortable inn in London having safely deposited the proceeds of her jewels in Messrs. Hoare’s bank. He sought such comfort as he could from the idea that her other prophecies had yet to be fulfilled, but he remembered with misgiving her once having told him that things seen in the glass would come to pass only if the subject pursued a path made natural to him through his character and environment—as indeed most people did—but that an abnormal exercise of free will might cause deviations from it, or the whole future suddenly be rendered void by a higher power decreeing death for the subject.
The Launching of Roger Brook Page 12