CHAPTER XIV.Twenty-Three to One.
The absence of wind kept the schooner at anchor off Brewster for two days. During this time Hoppy Mayo avoided a clash with Dunton, though the latter’s surliness was increased by his enforced inactivity. The frigate was expected back any moment now and Dunton knew Captain Raggett would be displeased with the meagre results of the schooner’s cruise if she were obliged to remain in idleness off Brewster. However, there was no help for it, and unless a favorable breeze came up the best the surveying party could do would be to send a small boat as far eastward as Orleans creek, a distance of about two miles. Further than this Dunton decided not to risk his men. His naturally suspicious temperament caused him to imagine all sorts of traps laid for him by the accursed Yankees who, he well knew, were watching his every movement from the shore.
On the evening of the second day, the aspect of the sky betokened a change of weather. The atmosphere was very still and the sun went down in a blaze of blood-red radiance. Hoppy was tranquilly smoking his pipe after supper when Dunton approached and said:
“Looks like a change, Mayo? I don’t remember having seen such a sunset since I came to this coast.”
The American had seen many such sunsets and he knew their meaning. After a keen look at the steel-blue cloud that was showing up over the spot where the sun had disappeared, he answered the officer.
“Yes, Mr. Dunton, it certainly looks as if we were in for one of our summer tempests. I don’t like the look of that cloud.”
“There is not a breath of air at present, Mayo.”
“No, sir; that is one of the signs of a tempest in this locality.It may not come up until midnight, but we are going to have it before tomorrow morning.”
“This is not very safe holding ground in case of a blow,” said Dunton somewhat anxiously.
“That’s so, Mr. Dunton.”
“Well, I’m going below, Mayo, and I want you to remain on deck and watch for a puff that may enable us to get into a better anchorage.”
“Very good, sir; I shall call you when it comes.”
After Dunton went below Hoppy felt inclined to dance a jig on the deck. Perhaps, after all, his expectations would be fulfilled? Was not this tempest the one thing wanting to hasten the success of the scheme which his wily brain had fashioned during the days of his captivity on the schooner? Twenty-three to one were the odds against him up to this, but with a roaring blow from the northwest as an ally he felt as if he had more than a fighting chance. One blast from the trumpet of the Lord would open the floodgates of the heavens and the pilot’s unerring eye had read the message of promise written in the evening sky!
Two junior officers, three seamen and Hoppy made up the watch on deck. One of the seamen, a chap named Jackson, was especially friendly with the pilot and had a great contempt for Dunton. Jackson was a typical old salt; a fine seaman who had spent the greater part of his life in the navy, but he had reached the limit of promotion when he got his rating as able seaman. His fondness for grog had kept him back, though he would not admit the impeachment, preferring to put the blame on his want of influence with such officers as Dunton who, he confided to Hoppy, had a man at their mercy if they took a dislike to him. It was now quite dark and Hoppy, unseen by the officers, managed to have a few words with Jackson.
“I guess you’re getting about sick of the calm, Jackson? Looks like a change, though.”
“Yes, mate,” replied Jackson, “I am. I’m sick of the whole d——d business. There ain’t no glory an’ there ain’t no prize-money in this here war. Settin’ British sailors to such work as ketchin’ rowboats an’ fishin’ schooners an’ then makin’ headquarters in a town that ain’t got a decent grogshop ain’t wot we was used to in the navy.”
“’Tis certainly poor work for brave men, Jackson.”
“That it is,” assented Jackson vehemently.
“Well, Jackson, as the commanding officer has ordered me to remain on deck to watch with you, I don’t see why we shouldn’t be as comfortable as we can make ourselves. What do you say to this?” Hoppy produced a flask of rum.
“Wot do I say to it, eh? Wot I say is this: If that son of a gun aft don’t come on deck an’ ketch us, I’d like to jine you all right!”
“No fear of that, Jackson; he won’t come on deck until I call him. Help yourself!”
“After you, mate; I ain’t forgot my manners.”
“Here’s luck, Jackson!”
“Same to you, my hearty, an’ many of ’em!”
Then the gallant tar took his turn at the flask. Lovingly he held the generous liquor to his lips and quenched his thirst with a long drink.
“Blest if it ain’t mighty good of you, mate!” said Jackson gratefully. “That fellow aft don’t know how to treat men, an’ there’s a lot o’ growlin’ among the crew.”
“That’s a wonder, Jackson, and there’s no reason why he should be stingy about the grog. There’s enough of it aboard.”
“Then he’s a d——d liar!” hissed Jackson. “He sent word to the focsle that the supply o’ rum aboard was small an’ that the allowance must be cut down!”
“Of course, Jackson, it isn’t my place to interfere, and perhaps I was wrong in mentioning the matter?”
“Oh, don’t you fret about your doin’ wrong, mate. You’ve done right, an’ by the Lord Harry, when I tell some o’ them about his meanness an’ lyin’, there’ll be hell to pay! There’s old Bill Brown will be hoppin’ about it. Only yesterday, old Bill says to me: ‘Damme,’ says Bill, ‘I’ve been threatenin’ to desert ever since we kem on this here station but I’ve been held back ’cause I hated to leave the old flag. But, by G——,’ (Bill’s a orful swearer) ‘if this feller deals out short allowance o’ grog, I’m finished with King George!’”
“It’s a shame, Jackson. Don’t tell any of the men that I have given you a drink. Dunton would be sure to hear of it and that would be the end of the game. I know where there’s a good supply stowed away and I can get at it; so, if you keep the matter to yourself, I may be able to let you have a good drink occasionally.”
“All right, my hearty; you can trust me with a secret. Fact of it is, mate, the crew don’t think anything the worse o’ you for bein’ a Yank. They know Dunton’s down on you, but he’s obliged to keep a civil tongue just now. Old Dick Raggett has given him orders to treat you decent.”
“I thought there was something strange about his civility, Jackson, and I’m much obliged to you for telling me the reason. What do you say to another swallow?”
Jackson had no objection at all, so he took a copious draught which put him in high spirits.
Hoppy again warned him to be silent about the rum and went aft.
The stillness of the atmosphere continued and the night was intensely dark. From his station Hoppy closely watched the western sky. The deluge would soon be upon them and already he noticed faint streaks of lightning near the horizon. Everything seemed to favor him. He had secured the goodwill of Jackson and would be able to use him when the right momentarrived. The watch officers, also seeing the lightning, asked him if he thought it advisable to call Dunton’s attention to it, but Hoppy replied that his orders were not to call the commander until there were signs of a breeze.
“It’s no use waking him, Mr. Jenkins. If we’re going to run for better holding ground we must wait for wind, and we shan’t have any for some time yet.”
“Very well, Mayo; but if a sudden squall should strike us, Mr. Dunton won’t be pleased to be below.”
“There will be no sudden squall, Mr. Jenkins. These summer tempests don’t come up like that. The lightning is far off yet and, anyway, we can’t get any steerage way on her until we get some wind.”
This appeared to satisfy the young men and they left Hoppy to his cogitations.
When half an hour had passed, Dunton came on deck. He was evidently ill at ease and could not remain below. His eye caught the gleaming shafts of lightning to the westward and he knew that the tempest predicted by the pilot would be a furious one.
“The wind still seems to be shy, Mayo?”
“Oh, it’s coming, all right, Mr. Dunton, but you won’t feel it for another hour. The lightning still hugs the horizon.”
“It will mean a night on deck for all hands. I think you had better turn in for a rest, Mayo; I shall want you when the storm strikes us.”
“Very good, sir, and thank you for your consideration.”
In accordance with Raggett’s orders Hoppy’s berth was in the cabin with the officers. Dunton dared not object to this though he didn’t like the idea of having the prisoner established in his quarters.
Hoppy went below but he did not turn in. Sleep was not in his program that night. Making sure that he was unobserved,he made a cautious but thorough search of the cabin, paying particular attention to Dunton’s berth. In the midst of his investigations he heard Dunton calling for him to come on deck and he knew by the trampling of feet above him that the longed-for breeze had come. With a smile he obeyed the commander’s call.
There was bustle everywhere on deck. Dunton was shouting orders and while some of the men were getting the anchor aboard others were busy at the sails. A crash of thunder greeted the pilot’s appearance on the scene. Though the breeze was still gentle, it was gathering strength every moment and soon the schooner would feel its full force.
“This is your business, pilot,” said Dunton. “I want to get the schooner into a good anchorage and I depend on you to show me where that is.”
“Aye, aye, sir,” cried Hoppy; “we must run her under the lee of Billingsgate Point! That’s about as safe as any place in this nor’wester.”
Under a storm jib and close-reefed foresail the little craft was headed for the Point. The lightning was now vivid and the crashing thunder was deafening. The long rollers from the ocean were breaking into white crests and the boom of the sea on the sandbars was heard at intervals through the elemental fury of the heavens. The rain fell in torrents and the wind increased to a gale which drove the schooner through the seething waters with tremendous force and would have overwhelmed her were it not for the splendid seamanship displayed by Hoppy Mayo. There was then no lighthouse on Billingsgate Point to guide them and the darkness of the night added to the terrors of the storm, but the pilot assured Dunton that he could make the anchorage all right, though he could not even then guarantee that the schooner would be out of danger.
The distance they had to run was about eight miles. WhenHoppy’s calculations led him to believe that they were nearing the Point, he brought the schooner to the wind and ordered the anchor overboard. The strain on the stout cable was fearful but it held, and though the vessel was battered on all sides by the rollers she swung to her anchor in apparent safety for the moment.
There was not much said during all this time, for the simple reason that the shrieking gale and the general turmoil made it difficult for anyone to be heard, and the few orders given had to be shouted from man to man until the proper person was reached, but Hoppy conveyed to Dunton that this was the best he could do and that they must take their chances in this spot as long as the cable held and the gale continued.
The reader may wonder why the Cape Codder took such pains to bring the schooner to a place of comparative safety, but it must be kept in mind that Hoppy had no desire to risk his life by leaving the situation in charge of the British who knew nothing of the dangers of the locality; and besides, everything was working in favor of a triumphant conclusion to the scheme which was uppermost in his mind. The storm had altered his plans in some particulars, but it had improved his chances wonderfully and, indeed, the hardy pilot inwardly exulted when he felt assured that there would be no change in the weather until far into the night.