"Yes, but——"
"Well," said Cartwright, "I understood you didn't particularly hanker to catch the under-strapper."
"Ah," said the admiral, "of course I see. You mean——"
"I mean the boarding-house boss will shove the runner that did it out of sight. And then you'll know him by reason of the very means he takes not to be given away. For of course he'd reckon that the runner on being held would squeal."
"It's a good plan," said the admiral. "And when I know, what kind of punishment would Mr. Smith like least of all?"
"Provided you remember he's an American citizen, I don't care what you do," replied the chief. "But if you asked me, I should get him served the way he's served you. Shanghai Smith among a crowd of sailormen in an American ship, such as theHarvester(and the skipper of theHarvesterhates him like poison)—andshesails in three days—would have a picnic to recollect all his life. For you see, they know him."
"I'll think it over," said the admiral. "Your plan is excellent.
"So it is," said Cartwright, as he was rowed ashore, "for Smith ain't no favourite of mine, and at the same time it will look as if I gave him the straight racket, anyhow."
He sent an agent down to the water front that very night. The man dropped casual hints at the boarding-houses, and he dropped them on barren ground everywhere but at Shanghai Smith's.
"Jehoshaphat," said Smith, "so that's the game!"
Peter Cartwright had, in his own language, "reckoned him up to rights"; for the very first move that Smith played was to make a break for Billy's room. As the runner had been up most of the night before enticing sailormen off a Liverpool ship just to keep his hand in, he was as fast asleep as a bear on Christmas Day, and he was mighty sulky when Smith shook him out of sleep by the simple process of yanking his pillow from under his head.
"Ain't a man to get no sleep that works for you?" he demanded. "What's up now?"
"Hell is up, and fizzling," replied Smith. "I've had word from Peter Cartwright that you'll be arrested in the mornin' if you don't skin out. It's the admiral. I wish I'd never set eyes on him. Come, dress and skip: 'twon't do for you to be gaoled; mebbe they'd hold you on some charge till you forgot all you owe to me. There ain't no such thing as real gratitude left on earth."
Billy rose and shuffled into his clothes sullenly enough.
"And where am I to skip to?"
"To Portland," said Smith; "theMendocinoleaves in the mornin' for Crescent City and Astoria, don't she? Well, then, go with her and lie up with Grant or Sullivan in Portland till I let you know the coast is clear. And here's twenty dollars: go easy with it."
He sighed to part with the money.
"I'd sooner go down to Los Angeles," grunted Billy.
But Smith explained to him with urgent and explosive blasphemy that he was to get into another State in order to complicate legal matters.
"You've the brains of a Flathead Indian, you have," said Smith, as he turned Billy into the street on his way to find theMendocino. "What's the use of havin' law if you don't use it?"
And in the morning, when Smith heard that ten runners at least had been urgently invited to interview Mr. Peter Cartwright, he was glad to be able to declare that Billy was not on hand.
"He's gone East to see his old man," he said drily. "And as his father is a millionaire and lives in the Fifth Avenue, N' York, he couldn't afford to disregard his dyin' desire to see him."
"You are a daisy, Smith," said the police officer who had come for Billy. "Between you and me, what have you done with him?"
Smith shook his head.
"I shot him last night and cut him up and pickled him in a cask," he said with a wink. "And I've shipped him to the British Ambassador at Washington, C.O.D."
"You're as close as a clam, ain't you, Smith? But I tell you Peter is havin' a picnic. This admiral's game was playin' it low down on Peter, whoever did it. There are times when a man can't help his friends."
Smith lied freely.
"You can tell Peter I had nothin' to do with it."
"Yes, I cantellhim!" said the police officer. And he did tell him. As a result the chief of police wrote to the admiral:—
"SIR,—
"I have interrogated all the runners but one belonging to the chief boarding-houses, and have succeeded in obtaining no clue. The one man missing was runner to Mr. William Smith, commonly known as 'Shanghai' Smith. Under the circumstances, and considering what you said to me, I am inclined to wait developments. If you will inform me what you wish me to do, I shall be glad to accommodate you in any way."
"Yours truly,"PETER CARTWRIGHT.
"P.S.—If you could write me a letter saying you are quite satisfied with the steps I have taken to bring the offender to justice, I should be obliged.
"P.S.—If you wish to meet Mr. John P. Sant, captain of theHarvester, now lying in the bay and sailing the day after to-morrow, I can arrange it."
But both the postscripts were written on separate pieces of paper. Mr. Cartwright was not chief of police in a land of justice for nothing. He knew his way about.
Dicky Dunn, on receiving Peter's letter, called in his flag-lieutenant.
"When they shanghaied me, they knocked you about rather badly, didn't they, Selwyn?"
Selwyn instinctively put his hand to the back of his head.
"Yes, Sir Richard. They sand-bagged me, as they call it, and kicked me too."
"I'm pretty sure I know who did it," said the admiral, "and I'm proposing to get even with the man myself. It seems that it will be a difficult thing to prove. Besides, I'm not built that way. I don't want to prove it and send the man to gaol. I like getting even in my own fashion. What would you do if I could tell you who it was that laid the plot against us that night?"
Selwyn was a clean-skinned, bright-eyed, close-shaven young fellow, as typical an Anglo-Saxon salted in the seas as one could meet. His eyes sparkled now.
"I—I'd punch his head, sir."
The admiral nodded.
"I believe I did punch his head, years ago, Selwyn. But he was looking for a fight and found it, and ought to have been satisfied. Between you and me and no one else, the chief of police here and I have fixed this matter up between us. He says that he has no evidence, and the only man who might have given the affair away has been shipped off somewhere. I'm going to show Mr. Smith that he didn't make a bucko mate of me for nothing. And I want you to help. I've got a scheme."
He unfolded it to Selwyn, and the young lieutenant chuckled.
"He used to be a seaman," said the admiral, "but for twelve years he's been living comfortably on shore, sucking the blood of sailors. And if I know anything about American ships—and I do—he'll find three months in the fo'castle of thisHarvesterworse than three years in a gaol. Now we're going to invade the United States quite unofficially, with the connivance of the police!"
He lay back and laughed.
"Oh, I tell you," said the admiral, "he ran against something not laid down in his chart when he fell in with me. You can come ashore with me now and we'll see this Cartwright. American ways suit me, after all."
"Then I understand, Mr. Cartwright," said the admiral, an hour later, "that there won't be a policeman anywhere within hail of this Smith's house to-morrow night?"
"I've got other business for them," said Peter.
"And I can see Mr. Sant here this afternoon?"
"I'll undertake to have him here if you call along at three."
He spent the interval at lunch with the British Consul.
"I tell you what, Stanley," said the admiral, "I don't care what they did to me, for it's done me no harm. But after this you should be able to make them enforce the laws. If they would only do that, the Pacific Coast wouldn't stink so in the nostrils of shipmasters and shipowners."
The consul explained the local system of politics. It appeared that every one with any business on the borders of crime insured against the results of accidents by being in politics.
"And if the thieving politicians appoint the man to control them, what's the result?"
"The result is—Shanghai Smith," said the admiral. "Well, I'll see you later. I've an appointment with Mr. Sant, of theHarvester."
The consul stared.
"What, with Sant? Why, he got eighteen months' hard labour for killing a man six months ago."
"But he's not in prison?"
"Of course not," said the consul. "He was pardoned by the Governor."
"He's just the man I wish to see," cried Dicky Dunn.
He found Sant waiting at Cartwright's office. He was a hard-bitted, weather-beaten gentleman, and half his face was jaw. That jaw had hold of a long cigar with his back teeth. He continued smoking and chewing, and did both savagely. What Peter had said to him did not come out, but by agreement the admiral was introduced as Mr. Dunn.
"You have reason not to like Shanghai Smith?" said Peter.
"That's so," nodded Sant.
"Mr. Dunn does not like him either. Could you make any use of him on board theHarvester?"
"I could," said Sant, grinning; "he'd be a useful man."
"If you imagined you missed a man to-morrow morning just as you were getting up your anchor, and some one hailed you and said they had picked one up, you would take him aboard?"
"Wet or dry," said Sant.
"I'll undertake he shall be wet," said the admiral. "Eh?" And he turned to Selwyn.
"Yes, sir," replied the lieutenant, "that could be arranged."
"Very well, Mr. Sant," said the admiral.
"And it's understood, of course," said Peter, "that you gentlemen never saw each other and don't know each other when you meet, it being a matter of mutual obligation."
"I agree," said Sant. And the admiral shook hands with a gentleman who had been pardoned by an amiable Governor.
"And of course," Cartwright added as he escorted the admiral and Selwyn into the passage, "if thereshouldbe a shindy at Smith's and any of your men are in it, we shall all explain that it was owing to your having been put away. And two wrongs then will make it right. I guess the newspapers will call it square."
"Exactly so," said the admiral.
And when he reached theTriumphanthe had very nearly worked out the plan by which the row at Shanghai Smith's was to occur.
"I'll just go over it with you, Selwyn," he said, when he reached his cabin again. "Now you must remember I rely on your discretion. A wrong step may land us in trouble with the authorities and the Admiralty. There never was a Government department yet which wouldn't resent losing a fine chance of a paper row, and if they catch me settling this matter out of hand, my name is Dennis, as the Americans say. And I don't want your name to be Dennis either."
"Well, what do you propose, Sir Richard?" asked Selwyn.
"This is rightly your show and mine," said the admiral. "I won't have any one else in it, that I can help. I ought to speak to Hamilton, but I won't. I'll keep him out of the trouble"—for Hamilton was the captain of theTriumphant. "I suppose the men herearereally fond of me?" said the admiral interrogatively.
"They have no monopoly of that," said Selwyn.
"Is there any one of them you could drop a hint to, that you could trust?"
"Of course," said Selwyn; "there's Benson, whose father works for mine as gardener. We used to fight in the toolhouse at home, and now he would jump overboard if I asked him."
"Do you mean Benson, my coxs'n?"
"Yes, sir."
"He's the very man. You might let him know that if he should get into any trouble, he will be paid for it. I leave the rest to you. You can go ashore now, with this note to Stanley. That will give you a chance to take Benson with you and speak to him on the quiet. I don't know that I care particularly to hear any more about it till the day after to-morrow, unless I have to. Ultimately all the responsibility is mine, of course."
And by that Selwyn understood rightly enough that Dicky Dunn, for all his cunning, had no intention of shirking trouble if trouble came. He went ashore and took Benson up town with him.
"Do the men think it was Shanghai Smith that laid for us, and put the admiral away, Benson?" he asked as they went up Market Street.
"There ain't the shadder of a doubt 'e done it, sir," said Benson.
"And they don't like it?"
"Lord bless you, sir. It's very 'ard 'avin' all liberty stopped, but between you and me it was wise to stop it. They would 'ave rooted 'is 'ouse up and shied the wreckage into the bay."
"It's a pity that you and about twenty more couldn't do it," said Selwyn. "And if one could only catch hold of the man himself and put him on board an outward-bound ship, it would do him good."
Benson slapped his leg.
"Oh, sir, there ain't a man on board theTriumphantthat wouldn't do six months with pleasure to 'ave the 'andlin' of 'im."
"No?"
"For sure, sir."
I was lying awake last night thinking of it,"said Selwyn; "at least, I believe I was awake—perhaps I was dreaming. But I seemed to think that a couple of boats' crews were ashore, and that you went to Shanghai's place for a drink."
"I've done that same, sir," said Benson, "and the liquor was cruel bad."
"And I dreamed—yes, I suppose it was a dream—that you started a row and made hay of his bar and collared him, and took him in the cutter and rowed him round the bay till about four in the morning."
"You always was very imaginary and dreamy as a boy, sir, begging your pardon, sir," said Benson.
"And I dreamed you came to theHarvester——"
"Her that's lying in the bay—the ship with the bad name among sailormen?"
"That's the ship," said Selwyn; "and you hailed her and asked the captain if a man had tried to escape by swimming. And he said 'Yes,' and then you said you'd picked him up."
Benson looked at him quickly.
"But he wouldn't be wet, sir."
"Oh yes, he would, Benson. You could easily duck him over-board."
Benson stared very hard at the lieutenant.
"Of course. I could very easy duck him—and love to do it, too. And did the captain of theHarvesterown to him, sir?"
Selwyn nodded.
"He would, Benson—I mean he did, of course."
"I suppose," asked Benson, with his eyes on the pavement, "that it had been arranged so?"
"In the dream, yes," said the lieutenant.
"Was it for to-morrow evening, sir?"
"I thought so," said Selwyn. "And the curious thing about it was that the whole thing was done as quietly as possible. All you men went to work in silence without as much as a hurrah. And one of the boats brought me ashore and the other brought the admiral. And it was only after you had put the man on board theHarvesterthat you came back for the admiral at five in the morning, Benson."
"And what about the boat as brought you, sir?"
"I came back at twelve and went on board with them, after the fight, and while you were rowing Mr. Smith about the bay, cheering him up."
"Was there anything else, sir?"
"Nothing," said Selwyn, "only that I forget whether it came out. If it did, the men said it was a game all of their own. And I think—no, I'm sure—that if any one got into trouble it paid him well, after all."
"Of course it would, sir," said Benson warmly. "I wish it could really come off. You never know your luck, sir."
"I think Mr. Smith doesn't," said Selwyn.
And when Benson went on board again and had a long confabulation with two boats' crews, there was a unanimous opinion among them that Mr. Smith had piled his ship up with a vengeance when he ran against a British admiral.
"There ain't to be no weepons," said Benson—"nothin' worse nor more cuttin' than a stay-sail 'ank as a knuckle-duster, and even that I don't recommend. An odd stretcher or two and the bottles there will do the job. And the word is silence, now and then."
"Mum's the word," said the men. And like the children that they were, they wrought the whole ship's company into a frenzy of excitement, by dropping hints about as heavy as a half-hundredweight on every one who was not in the game. Had there been much longer to wait than twenty-four hours, they must have told, or burst. And if they had not burst, the others would have finally reached the truth by the process of exhaustion.
It was nine o'clock on the following evening that the admiral went on shore to dine with the British consul. He told Benson that he might be later than eleven. And as Benson touched his cap he took the liberty of believing he might be as late as five in the morning. And just about eleven Selwyn came ashore in another boat with papers which had to go to the admiral. That is what he said to the first lieutenant. Captain Hamilton was sleeping the night at the house of a cousin of his in San Francisco.
"I shall be back in an hour, Thomas," said Selwyn. And the two coxs'ns were left in command of the cutting-out expedition. The whole business was nearly wrecked at the outset by the settlement of the question as to who was to be left in charge of the boats. Finally Thomas and Benson ordered two men to stay, and the defrauded men sat back and growled most horribly as the rest moved off towards Shanghai Smith's in loose order.
"Look 'ere," said Billings to Graves as they were left alone, "it's hobvious one must stay with the boats; but one's enough, and on an hexpedition like this, horders ain't worth a damn. I'll howe you a quid, a whole quid, and my grog for a month if you'll be the man to stay."
"No, I'll toss you, the same terms both sides."
And the spin of coin sent Billings running after the rest. He was received by Benson with curses, but he stuck to the party all the same.
"Very well, you report me! You know you can't," he said defiantly. "And I've give Graves a thick 'un and my grog for a month to be let come."
This awful sacrifice appealed even to Benson.
"All right," he said. "But if I can't report you for this, I can the next time."
"Next time be damned," cried Billings; "'oo cares about next time, now?"
And they hove in sight of Shanghai Smith's.
It was the first time a bluejacket had been near the place since a day or two before the admiral's disappearance. And at first when Shanghai saw them come in he regretted that Billy, his best fighting man, was by now well on his way to Portland. But for at least ten minutes theTriumphantsbehaved very well. Benson had a good head and had arranged matters very neatly.
"You look 'ere," he had said; "the thing to look out for is the barman. He keeps a gun, as they calls it 'ere, on a shelf under the bar. Smith, 'e'll 'ave one in his pocket. So when I says, 'This rum would poison a dog,' don't wait for no back answer, but lay the bar-keeper out quick, with a stone matchbox or anything 'andy. And the nearest to Smith does the same to 'im. He'll likely not be be'ind, but if 'e is, bottle 'im too, and not a word of jaw about it first or last."
They stood up to the bar, and Benson ordered drinks for himself and three particular pals of his.
"Ain't this Mr. Smith's?" he asked.
"I'm Smith," said Shanghai.
"'Ere's to you. I've often heard of you," said Benson. And three or four merchant seamen sitting about the room sniggered and passed a few sneering remarks among themselves about "Liberty Jack."
Smith, who had taken enough that night to make him rash, referred to the admiral.
"So your admiral has come back, has he?"
"He has," said theTriumphants. "And Dicky Dunn is lookin' for the man that played that dirty game on him."
And Smith shrugged his shoulders as he half turned away.
"'Tain't half so dirty as this rum," said Benson; "it would poison a dog."
And as the words left his mouth the ball opened with a sudden and tremendous crash. Two heavy matchboxes went for Tom behind the bar: one laid him out as quietly as if he had been hocussed; the other smashed a bottle which held a liquor known on the Barbary Coast as brandy, and starred the mirror behind the shelves. Thomas at the same moment stooped and caught Shanghai Smith by the ankles and pitched him on his head. He never had time to reach for his "gun." The merchant seamen jumped to their feet and made for the door.
"Stop them!" said Benson, and half a dozen bluejackets hustled them back again. "No you don't, Johnnies; you can stay and 'ave free drinks, and look after the man behind the bar. Drag out that Smith and get 'im in the open air." And Thomas dragged Smith into the darkness by his collar.
"There's to be no drinkin' for us," said Benson. "Smash what you like, and taste nothin'." And in less than a minute Shanghai's place was a lamentable and ghastly spectacle.
"Sarves him right," said one of the merchant seamen, as he salved a bottle of poison. "Oh, ain't he a sailor-robbing swine?"
"Fetch him in and let him look at it," said Benson, with a wink.
Thomas had been primed.
"He's come to and run like billy-oh!" he cried.
But Smith was incapable of running. He was being carried by two bluejackets.
"After 'im, after 'im," said Benson; and in another moment the whole house was dear.
When Tom came to, he found the place a wreck, and four boarders too far gone in free liquor to offer any useful explanation of what had occurred since the rum had been pronounced fit to poison a dog.
"All I know is," said the soberest, "that he fit and we fit and fit and fit, and then 'e run."
And when Tom sought for the police, it was very odd that there was not one to be found in the quarter of San Francisco which most needs clubbing to keep it in order. There was not even one to bear witness that a crowd of bluejackets and an American citizen had come along the water front at midnight. But five minutes after midnight a British lieutenant could have taken his oath that both crews were in their boats and at least moderately sober.
"I've seen the admiral, Benson," said Selwyn, as he stepped into his boat and sat down, "and he may be later than he said."
"Very well, sir," replied Benson.
And as soon as Selwyn had disappeared into the darkness, the boat with Mr. Shanghai Smith in followed suit. And the bay of San Francisco is not so well policed that they had any one inquiring what they were doing as they pulled across to Saucelito, and laid up quietly till three o'clock.
"He ain't dead, we hopes," said the crew of the boat.
"Not 'e," said Benson; "'is 'eart beats all to rights, and 'is head is perfectly sound, bar a lump the size of a 'en's egg. That up-endin' dodge of Thomas's is very fatal in a row—oh, it's very fatal."
It was nearly two o'clock before Shanghai made any motion. But when he did begin to get conscious, he found his mind and his tongue with surprising rapidity.
"That 'ead of yourn must be made of five-eighths boiler-plate, Mr. Smith," said Benson, as Smith sat up suddenly.
"What am I doin' here?" asked Smith.
"'Ow do we know?" asked the delighted crew. "Youwouldcome. It warn't no good excusin' of ourselves."
Smith put his hand to his head.
"Who hit me?" he demanded savagely.
"No one," said the crew unanimously; "you tried to stand on your 'ead."
"Put me ashore," said Smith. "What are you goin' to do?"
"We're waitin' to see the'Arvesteryonder 'eave 'er anchor up," replied Benson. "We're in the sailor-supplyin' line, we are, same as you was."
"He don't like to hear that," said Billings; "we're cutting him out of a job. And this time we ain't supplyin' admirals."
"No, we ain't. Yah, you man-buyin', sailor-robbin' swine! And 'twas you dared touch our admiral. Oh, you dog, you!"
They all took a turn at him, and Smith saw he was in the tightest corner he had ever occupied. This was satisfactorily expressed for him.
"Say, Shanghai, did you ever hear of Barney's bull?"
And when Smith refused to answer, they answered for him.
"He was jammed in a clinch, and so are you. You're goin' to 'ave the finest time of all your life. Did you ever 'ear of Sant of the'Arvester?"
And Smith, for all his brutal courage, shook in his boots.
"I'll give you chaps a hundred dollars to put me ashore," he cried. "I never touched Sir Richard Dunn."
"Dry up," said Benson, "and don't lie. We wouldn't part with you, my jewel, not for a thousand. What made you desert from the'Arvester, a comfortable ship like that, with sich a duck of a skipper?"
"I'll give you a thousand," said Smith desperately.
"At four o'clock you're goin' on the'Arvester—and 'tis nigh on three now. Sant wouldn't miss a man like you, so smart and 'andy, for all the gold in Californy. Own up as you shanghaied the admiral?"
Smith grasped at any chance of avoiding theHarvester. For Sant had a dreadful name, and both his mates were terrors.
"If I own I put him away, will you take me ashore and hand me over to the police?"
He was almost in a state of collapse.
Benson looked at the man, and in the faint light of far-off day still below the horizon the boat's crew saw him wink.
"We'll vote on it, if you owns up. What d'ye say, chaps?"
"Aye, we'll vote," said the men. "Say, did you do it?"
But Smith saw how the voting would go, and refused to speak. They heard six bells come across the water from many ships. And then they heard seven. There was a grey glint in the east. The sand-dunes on the verge of the Ocean Park whitened as they pulled for theHarvester. They heard the clank of her windlass brakes and the bull voice of her mate, as he encouraged his men to do their best by threatening them with three months of hell afloat.
Smith offered Benson two thousand dollars.
"I wouldn't part with you except to Sant for all you ever robbed men of," said Benson—"and what that is, on'y you knows. Pull, boys; her cable's up and down. No, hold on a moment; he must be wet, of course."
In spite of his struggles they put him over the side and soused him thoroughly. When they pulled him on board again, he sat cursing.
"Now, boys, bend your backs."
And when he came up alongside theHarvestershe was just moving under the draught of her loosed topsails.
"Harvester, ahoy!" cried Benson.
"Hallo!" said Sant. "What is it?"
"You don't happen to have lost one of your crew, tryin' to desert by swimmin', sir?"
"Have you picked him up? What's his name, does he say?"
"It's Smith, sir."
"That's the man," said Sant. "I want him badly."
But Smith cried out:
"This is kidnappin', Mr. Sant. I refuse to go."
"Oh, Smith," said Sant, "I'll take all the chances of it's bein' anythin' you like. Throw them a rope."
And theTriumphantstowed alongside.
"Up you go," said Benson.
"I won't," said Smith.
"Won't you?" asked Benson. "We'll see about that. Hook on there, Billings."
And the next moment Smith was jammed in a running bowline round his waist.
"Sway him up," said Benson; and the crew of theHarvesterhoisted the notorious robber with about the only feelings of pleasure they were likely to know till they reached New York. And theTriumphantspushed off as they heard the mate address Mr. Smith in language which did his reputation and the reputation of the ship most ample justice.
"There's talk and there's a fore-topsail-yard-ahoy voice for you," said Benson. "Oh, Mr. Smith will be looked after, he will. Now, chaps, pull for it, or the admiral will be waitin', and if that 'appens, 'twill be 'Stand from under.'"
Concerning the permanent and immutable characteristics of ships, the unhappy man who has never had his limited range of vision broadened by a trip in a sailing ship must of necessity know little. He probably falls into the fallacy, common even among those who follow the sea, that a partial or entire clearance of her "crowd" will quite alter her nature; whereas sailors being sailors—that is, people of certain fairly definite attributes—any given environment makes them much the same as those who preceded them.
But entire changes in thepersonnelof a vessel rarely take place. The officers change, but the crew remains: the crew goes, but officers stay. Or more frequently some few men are favourites of one or two of the officers, and they mingle with the new crew like yeast, till the ancient fermentation is visible once more.
Ships (to speak thus of their companies) talk of the same subjects over a million miles of changing seas: they have a permanent stock of subjects. These include all which are perennially of interest to seafaring men, such as homesversusboarding-houses, but they include also something more individual, something more intimately connected with the essence of that particular vessel. And the one unending topic of interest on board thePotluckwas foreign politics.
How this came about no one knew, though many theories were set afloat and sunk again every Sunday afternoon. Some said that the first captain of thePotluckwas called Palmerstone, and that he introduced the subject of Englandversusthe world as soon as he came on board. Others swore that they had been told by a clerk in the employ of the firm that there had been a discussion over her very keel concerning the introduction into her frame of foreign oaks.
"This was the way of it," said Jack Hart, who was the chief upholder of this particular theory, and the son of a little shipbuilder—"the lot that built her at Liverpool was the mixedest crowd of forsaken cranks as ever handled timber. So the clerk said. And one had a hankerin' for teak and another for hoak (with odd leanin's now and agin for Hafrican and Portugee and French hoak), and another he said 'Cuban Sabicu,' and another's word was 'Hackmatack' and 'chestnut' hevery time. So they shoved in bits here and bits there till she was a reg'lar junk-shop o' samples. And that's the reason she's a foreign talking argument ship. And a mighty good reason too."
The crowd listened in silence.
"If you knew as much about arguin' as you know (seemin'ly) about timbers as no man ever heerd of, your argument might stand," said Mackenzie, a withered old foc'sle man. "But it ain't to reason as the natur' of the woods in a ship should make us talk this way or that. If so be a ship was built o' teak, d'ye think we'd talk the 'jildy jow,' you black 'son of a gun' lingo?"
Hart shook his head.
"No ship ain't never built all of teak as I ever heerd of, and so your eye's out, Mac. But a man with 'arf an eye could see the knowledge of her bein' so built might lead right hup to talk about the stren'ths of the countries as well of the vally of their timbers."
"So they might," said the almost convinced crowd. "Now Jack Hart 'as the gift, so to speak, of seein' through things."
"And once started, who'd stop it?" asked Jack triumphantly. "I knowed a ship as 'ad fresh crowd after fresh crowd in her, but she for ever 'ad a black cat aboard. And they talked 'cat' to make you sick. And I knowed another as 'ad from launch to her hultimate pilin' up in the Bermudas the fashion of calling the skipper the 'Guffin.' And hevery skipper was the 'Guffin,' new and old, go or stay. But when we broke hoff to hargue, why, we was talkin' about them French jossers and whether Sallis-bury was a-goin' to let 'em chip into our game and straddle the Nile."
"That's so," said the crowd, and the House was rough.
Meanwhile, the skipper, or "old man" (who henceforward, by the way, was called the "Guffin"), and his two mates were discussing the latest aspect of world politics, as they drank whiskey and water.
"What's wrong with Salisbury," said the Guffin, who was as stout as a barrel and as sturdy, "is, that he ain't got a backbone. He just lets 'em blow him about like so much paper. What he wants is stiffenin': he's like a sprung spar. That's what he's like."
The mate, a tough-looking dog with hair like anæmic tussac grass in patches on his face, shook his head.
"I've a greater opinion of him, captain, than you have. All his double shuffle is cunning. It's getting back so's to lead them French on. Mark me, he'll play them yet a fair knock-out."
The Guffin sneered.
"He may have cunnin', Lampert, but he ain't no real tact. Now, diplomatic tact, I take it, is not givin' way into the gutter, but just showin' as you're a nice pleasant-spoken chap as don't mean to be put on. It's my good opinion as these foreigners don't yearn to fight us. And men like you and me, Lampert, gets to learn the way of handlin' foreigners. Who has so much experience with 'em as them in command of English ships?"
"That's so," said the second mate, who had been listening. "Now last v'y'ge in theBattleaxe, there was a Dago in my watch as come from the betwixt and between land where Spain jines France. And he was the Dagoest Dago I ever sailed with. But I knew the breed, and the first time he opens his garlicky mouth I hauled off and hit him. And then I took his knife away and snapped the point off. And I says to him, 'Now, you black beggar, every time at muster you'll show me that knife, and there'll be peace in the land.' And he done so, and there was peace."
The captain (or "Guffin") smote his thigh.
"You're right, Simcox, you're right, and if Salisbury was to take a leaf out of your log-book in respects of handlin' Dagoes, 'twould be better for all concerned. But no, not him. He goes on seein' them French make a fleet and he lets 'em! He actually sees 'em with their fleet sharpenin' on the grindstone and never says from the poop, 'Chuck that overboard, you swine, or I'll come and 'andle you so's you'll be glad to die.'"
The second mate was much gratified, as was obvious by his standing first on one foot and then on another. But Lampert was not so pleased.
"Why, you talk—you, captain and you, Simcox—as if they had a fleet. Why, it's my opinion—and experts say 'ditto' to me there—that a string o' band-boxes with crackers in 'em, and all on a mud-flat, would do as much harm as the French fleet—unless they blows up when we takes 'em."
The Guffin shook his head.
"Well, you know, Lampert, as I never 'ad no opinion of their fleet. But that ain't the question. Salisbury may have 'is reasons for not takin' it away, though I fails to see 'em; but the real question is, why we don't have a man with guts and go in command. It's my firm belief as there's many a merchant captain as could work the diplomatic game to better hadvantage. Look at the experience we has, dealing with owners contrary as hell, and with consignees and with 'arbour-masters and pilots. Where Salisbury is wrong, is in his not goin' about and freshin' up his mind. And he works by rule o' thumb and dead reckoning. It ain't no wonder we can see where's his eye's out."
"It ain't," said the compliant Simcox.
"Well," sighed Lampert, "I owns freely as I don't feel that sure I'd like to run his show."
The Guffin laughed.
"But you ain't 'ad my experience yet, Lampert. Now, I'd hundertake to come right down into the harena, and make them French and Germans sit up like monkeys on a horgan while I played the tune."
"I believe you," said Simcox, rubbing his hard hands.
"Look at the difficulties we 'as to contend with," said the skipper, with a rapidly thickening utterance and an increasing loss of aspirates—"look at the vig'lance we 'as to use. Rocksandshoalsandhother ships. It's 'igh education to be a master-mariner, and the Board of Trade knows it—knows it well. This 'ere crowd's all English except that one Dutchman, but if so be we'd English and Dagoes, and Dutchmen and Calashees, I'd 'ave showed you and Salisbury 'ow to 'andle mixed sweets. Vig'lance, difficulties, bright look-out, and the rule o' the road. And look at the chart! That's me!"
And very shortly afterwards the triple conversation ceased, for the captain lay snoring in his cabin.
ThePotluckwas a barque of eleven hundred tons' register, and was bound for Adelaide, with a general cargo of all mixed things under heaven and on earth. Now she was engaged in running down her easting, and, as her skipper believed, was somewhere about Lat. 44° 30' S., Long. 50° E., and not far off the Crozets. The westerly winds were blowing hard, but had the worst chill of winter off, for the month was September. Nevertheless, as old Jones, the skipper, was on a composite track, with a maximum latitude of 45° S., and was bound farther south still it might have been to the advantage of all concerned if he had drunk less, talked little, and minded his own business instead of arguing foreign politics.
But to each man Fate often gives his chance of proving what he boasts to be his particular skill in the universe.
When Lampert relieved Simcox at midnight, the weather was thick, and neither man's temper was of the sweetest, so they had a bit of a breeze.
"What kind of a relief d'ye call this?' growled Simcox.
"I call it a very good relief," replied Lampert, "and a darned sight better one than you deserve. You owe me ten minutes even now."
He looked down the scuttle at the clock.
"Why, you owe me twenty."
Simcox flew out with pretended politeness.
"Oh, make it half an hour! Don't let's haggle about such a trifle. What's it matter if I stand here waiting? Can't I keep the whole bloomin' watch for you?"
"Go to hell," said Lampert sulkily.
And Simcox went below.
"To be a sailor is to be a natural born fool," said Lampert, addressing the bitter and unkindly elements at large, "and to be on board a ship with such a windy gassing crowd, from the old man down to the cook, is very trying. It's very trying."
The wind took off a little later, but the weather was still thickish.
"It's like lookin' through a haystack," grunted Lampert, "but there, bar an island or so there's nothing to speak of in our way. And if the skipper will crack on, and it a week since we saw the sun, it's the owners' look out, not mine."
He spoke with a certain bitterness, as though he would really enjoy being wrecked, in the trust that thePotluckwas not insured, and that old Jones would get his certificate cancelled, or at least suspended.
"'Twould give the old ass time to study foreign politics," sneered Lampert, as it breezed up again.
And five minutes' later, while Lampert was lighting his pipe half-way down the cabin stairs, he heard a bellow forward which made him drop thoughts of tobacco.
"Breakers ahead!"
The watch came out on deck and ran aft; and were followed by the watch below in various articles of attire, not calculated to keep them very warm.
ThePotluckhad been running with the wind nearly dead aft.
"Starboard, starboard!" roared Lampert. "Oh, steady; hold her there!"
The vessel ran off to port at a sharp angle to her wake.
"Up here some," yelled the mate, "and set the spanker! Stand by the—— My God!"
And, as old Jones and Simcox came on deck, thePotluckwas hard and fast ashore. With one simultaneous crack the three topmasts went over the side, and as the men and officers jumped under the shelter of the weather rail, Lampert and those of the watch who were with him came tumbling down from the poop. They reckoned on a boiling sea coming after and sweeping them away. But though the malignity native to matter had set thePotluckashore, by good luck she was hard and fast in the one sheltered cove on the island. When Lampert by instinct altered her course to port, as he heard the coast breakers at the starboard bow, he had run her in between two ledges of rock, of which the outer or more westerly one acted as a complete breakwater.
The skipper, who had been lying flat when the others jumped for the main deck, got up and crawled forward to the break of the poop. He was half-paralysed with a mixture of funk and rage. He addressed himself and his remarks to the sky, the sea, and the island, but above all to Lampert.
"You man-drowning, slop-built caricature of a sailorman, what 'ave you bin and done with my ship?" he bellowed. "Oh, Lord, I'm a ruined man; by gosh, I'll murder you!"
He tumbled down on the main deck and made for Lampert, who easily dodged him.
"Shut up, you old idiot!" said the mate contemptuously. "Who but me told you that if you drove her in thick weather, and no sun seen for a week, you'd pile her up?"
Simcox caught Jones and held him.
"Good lord, sir," said the second greaser, "it's no time to fight."
"No, it ain't," said Jack Hart boldly.
That a foremast hand should dare to shove his oar in, almost cowed the poor old Guffin. It was something out of nature.
"It ain't no time for jawbation," insisted Hart, about whom the others had gathered. "It's time for thinkin' out the politics of the situation, and if I'm not mistaken we shall be able to walk ashore by the morning, and there won't be no ship for any one to command—so what's the use of jaw? I say get up stores, eh, Mackenzie?"
"Don't ask me," said old Mac. "I was thinkin' that mighty soon we'd be able to settle that question about the buildin' of thePotluck."
And as by this time Jones was calming down and was rather inclined to cry, Lampert came up to the restive crowd.
"You dry up, Hart," he said roughly. "Until the ship's broken up, you're on the articles. Say another word and I'll break your jaw."
"Yes, sir," said Hart respectfully.
Until dawn they loafed about the deck and in the cabin and foc'sle, discussing whether they were on one of the Crozets or what, and whether they would stay long there, and if so what, and so on.
And just as the dawn broke over the island they got an awful surprise. They saw a man standing on the low cliff on about a level with the jagged splinters of the fore-topmast where it had gone short in the cap.
"The bloomin' hisland's in'abited," cried a foremast hand, and every one rushed forward to interview the gesticulating stranger.
"Wod's the bloke say?" asked the crowd. "Oh, say it again!" And the stranger said it again.
But the crowd shook a unanimous head.
"I believe the silly galoot don't talk English," cried Hart; "'ere, where's Dutchy?"
They shoved their one "Dutchman" forward, and after some interchange of utter un-intelligibilities, listened to by every one with bated breath, Hermann turned round.
"I not versteh, captain. I denk him ein French."
The Frenchman was joined by two or three more, and then by a dozen.
"Why, they're all French," said the disgusted crowd. "What's Frenchmen doin' on any island of ours?"
And until the sea went down, which it did sufficiently to allow them to get ashore at about ten o'clock, they discussed the question as to whether the Crozets were English or not. It was settled by old Mackenzie.
"All islands as don't belong to any one belongs to us," he said; "it was arranged so by Disraeli."
They got ashore with some risk, and were greeted by the Frenchman in the most amiable way.
"Poor beggars!" said the crew; "it must be 'ard on a soft lot of things like them to be on a des'late hisland. Ain't it a wonder Froggies ever goes to sea? But does they belong 'ere, or was they piled hup same's hus?"
Hart found himself alongside a Frenchman with a long red Liberty cap on, and a big pair of ear-rings in his ears.
"Goddam," said the Frenchman.
"That's what we say," cried Hart. "Here, you chaps, he speaks English."
"Hurrah!" said the crowd.
"I spike Engelish," nodded the stranger.
"How'd you come 'ere?" asked the eager chorus.
The Frenchman nodded.
"Goddam!" he said, smiling. "Ship! Por'smout'—London! I spick En'lish."
"Well, then," said Hart desperately, "just dry up with your mixed hogwash, and spit it all out free as to 'ow you came 'ere, and wot the name o' this bally rock is, and who's its in'abitants. Now, give it lip!"
"Hart's a nateral born speaker, and 'as a clear 'ead," said the crowd. "'E puts it in a nutshell, and don't run to waste in words."
But the Frenchman looked puzzled.
"Comb wiz," he said; "spik En'lish besser," and he pointed over the low rise.
"Steady!" said Hart; "boys, I'm not clear as to whether we hain't bein' led hinto a hambush. It hain't nateral for shipwrecked Englishmen to find Frenchies shipwrecked too!"
"It ain't," said the crew suspiciously.
"And even if it's all right, we bein' strangers might be led into makin' a treaty without knowin' all there is to know. I vote waitin' till the officers comes up."
They squatted down on rocks and on the lumps of tussac grass till the captain and the two mates came along with the rest of the Frenchmen. Hart communicated his suspicions to the skipper, who was decidedly under the influence of alcohol.
"That's all right," said the Guffin thickly. "Wecan manage Frenchmen. They ain't goin' to make no French Shore question on no more of our islands. One Newfoundland's enough for me. I'll show you n'gotiations—'gotiashuns is my forte!" And he led the way over the hill. Below them they saw the wreck of a French barquantine.
"Blimy," said the crowd, with a frown, "if they 'aven't got the best part of our hisland!"
It was not to be endured by any lot of Englishmen under the sun, that the best part of this rock should be occupied by their natural foes, and soon there was evidence that in any attempt to turn the Frenchmen out the British leader would have a united nation at his back.
The Guffin and the two mates argued it, and Lampert was the Opposition.
"W'y, wot's this you're sayin'?" asked the disgusted skipper; "did I think to 'ave shipped a Verning 'Arcourt among my lot? You're a Little Englander, and nothin' but it, Lampert."
"They was here first," said Lampert obstinately.
"But the hisland is British ground," urged Simcox, "and where our flag flies no Frenchman can have the best. We gives 'em liberty to trade, and they can take what's left. What for have we always beat 'em if we're to give in now?"
"Continuosity of foreign politics is my motter," said the skipper. "With continuosity and joodishus firmness, and a polite 'hout o' this,' you'll see 'em listen to reason, and evacuate. I shall send hin my hultimatum this very afternoon. And you, Simcox, shall be hambassador."
Simcox looked anxious.
"Well, captain, I was thinking it would be judicious policy to send in the Dutchman. It will remind them that Europe is more or less agin them, and to have a Dutchman here will make 'em think twice afore they elects for war."
The skipper shook his head.
"No, Simcox, it looks judicious on the surface, but takin' deeper thought it ain't. It would aggerawate them, and that ain't policy. We fights if we must, but don't start it by doin' anythin' unpleasin' more'n askin' for our rights. And in n'gotiashuns it ain't policy to remind 'em deliberate of the time the Prooshians beat 'em. And moreover it's accordin' to no tradition I've heard of to send a furriner as hambassador. No, Simcox, you shall go. I'll draw up the hultimatum at once."
He returned on board the wreck of thePotluck, and in company with a bottle of brandy strove with the situation, while the crowd and their spokesman, Hart, argued like a House of Commons.
"It ain't any good talkin'," said Jack, "and hevery one knows that give a Frenchman the chance of hargument he'll talk a government mule's 'ind leg off. 'Hout of this,' is the on'y hargument a Frenchman hunderstands."
"But they seems to be a good many more of 'em than us," suggested the crowd.
"Come to that," said Hart, "it's the on'y just ground we 'as to go for 'em. For if they was on'y ekal numbers, it'd be cowardly to whack 'em, and I for one would be on the side of just goin' down there and shovin' them out peaceful. I'm for the hultimatum right off. I wonder 'ow the Guffin will put it. Say, boys, 'ere 'e comes!"
The "old man" staggered up with a sheet of paper in his hand.
"Have you done it, sir?" asked Simcox. "Let's hear it."
"Yes, read it out," said Lampert, with half a sneer, which the skipper did not notice.
The crowd gathered round as the captain squatted on a rock.
"On board the British barquePotluck, belonging to the British port Liverpool; owners, McWattie & Co.; Captain Abednego Jones.
"MR. SIMCOX,—Sir——"
"Eh, what?" said the astounded Simcox.
"It's addressed to you, Simcox," said the skipper blandly.
"Why?" asked Simcox.
The skipper shook his head impatiently.
"I thought you'd 'ave knowed, Simcox. You're the hambassador, and you've to communicate this to 'em."
"Oh, go on, sir," said the crowd.
The skipper resumed:
"MR. SIMCOX,—Sir, you'll be so good as to be so kind as to communicate the contents of this 'ere letter to them French of the wreck we don't know the name of, and tell them to clear. For there ain't no reasonable grounds for supposin' this ain't a British hisland (seeing that mostly all hislands is) and they've by comin' 'ere first got and taken possession of the best bit of it, which can't be allowed, as it's contrary to law in such case made and purvided. So you'll inform 'em it ain't goin' to be put up with, and they must evacuate immejit and resume thestatues quo——"
"What's that?" asked Simcox.
"It's Latin, you unutterable ass," said the skipper, with a look of withering contempt.
"I don't know Latin," said the poor second mate.
"And who expected it of you?" asked the skipper. "It means that things are to go on as they was afore they come:
"——resume thestatues quo, and don't stand no hargument. You are to tell 'em it will be considered an unfriendly hact, and that we 'as cleared for haction in consequence of not believing them such cowards as to quit. But quit they must, and no mistake, or we resort without delay to the arbitrage and general haverage of war. Given this day on board the British barquePotluckby me,
"CAPTAIN ABEDNEGO JONES."
"First rate!" said the crew. "That'll give 'em the jumps."
"And how am I to translate it?" asked the miserable Simcox.
"That's your look-out," said the Guffin, with a hiccup. "Shall I keep a dog and bark myself? Now, 'urry and get it hover. And let hevery one 'ave a weapon, 'andspikes and belayin' pins. Now go, Simcox!"
"Hart, come along with me," said Simcox.
And as the "old man" was engaged in keeping his balance, he made no objection.
"I think this is a herror of judgment, sir," said Hart; "my hidea of a hultimatum was jumpin' on 'em unexpected, and givin' 'em toko afore they know'd where they was. My notion of fightin' (and it pays hevery time) is to haggravate your man till he's ready to 'it, but to 'it 'im fust. An' if I thinks a cove will 'it me in five minutes, I lets no time go by in hanticipatin' 'im. But this will warn 'em."
"But they have no one who really knows English, Hart," groaned Simcox; "and I don't know the first word of French."
"Never mind, sir," said Hart encouragingly. "I've 'ad many a row with a Frenchy, and I never knowed my 'avin' not the least notion of what 'e meant ever stopped the fight from comin' off. If so be I see you get stuck, I'll come in, sir."
And they were met by the French sailor who thought he spoke English.
"I spik En'lish, goddam," said the Frenchman. "Leaverpool, Por'smout'; mais le capitaine spik besser."
"Good-mornin'," said Simcox meekly to the French captain, a long unhappy looking man, who might have been the skipper of achasse-maréefor all the style he put on.
"Mais, oui——" said the captain.
"This 'ere paper is for you," said Simcox, "and by the powers I hope you can't read it."
He handed the ultimatum to the Frenchman, who studied it while his crew came round.
"Je ne peux pas le lire, monsieur," he said at length.
Simcox turned to Hart.
"There, now what the blazes am I to do when he talks that way?"
"Just hexplain it," said Hart, as he helped himself to a chew. "Say, 'Hout o' this!'"
"It means you've got to go," said Simcox; "you can't be allowed to stay in the best part of our island."
"Goddam," cried the Frenchman, with his hand in his hair. "I spik English, two, tree word: pilote, feesh, shannel, owaryo!"
"Owaryo?" asked Simcox.
"That's his way o' sayin' 'How are you?'" interjected Hart, who was contemptuously sizing up the French sailors.
"Ah, how are you?" said Simcox.
"Owaryo," replied the French captain, smiling.
"Very well, thanks," said Simcox; "but I'm the ambassador."
"Ma foi, ambassadeur! You spik Français?"
"And you've just got to get," added Simcox.
"March!" cried Hart.
The Frenchmen "jabbered" a bit among themselves.
"Quoi donc? Marcher?" asked their skipper.
"We, old son," said Hart; "marshay if you like. Just pack up and quit. We gives you an hour to gather up your dunnage. Now do you understand?"
Whether the Frenchmen understood or not it was tolerably obvious they did not like the tone with which Hart spoke, or the looks of evident disfavour he cast at them. The captain turned away.
"Stop!" said Hart, and he went in for a dumb pantomime, in which he vaguely suggested that over yonder hill was an army of Englishmen.
"And we mean 'avin' our rights," he ended with. And just then old Jones appeared in sight.
"Are they jossers goin' to evacuate or not?" he bellowed. "What's their captain say to thestatues quo? Don't they know the first thing about diplomatics? Tell 'em that to prepare for peace we makes war."
"War it is," said Hart, and he launched himself at a crowd of Frenchmen, as his mates came tumbling down the hill.
The fight was short, sharp, and pretty decisive, for thePotluck'scrowd numbered ten able seamen, one ordinary seaman, and two boys, or with the captain and the two mates, sixteen in all. Against this array there were twenty-one Frenchmen, and though Hart, in his first onslaught, knocked down two, he was himself stretched out by a third armed with a broken hand-spike. And Simcox fled with the infuriated foreigners at his heels. The true battle (for this was but an affair of outposts) joined on the crest of the rise, and in five minutes the English were in flight for the shelter of the piled-upPotluck. Old Jones was keeled over once, but Lampert and Mackenzie dragged him away and got him down to the ship. He swore most terribly.
"'Ere's a pretty kettle o' fish," said he at last; "a pretty lot I 'as to my back to let a few Frenchies lick 'em this way. What's the good o' diplomatics if my men 'asn't the guts to support me? Where's that Simcox?"
"Here, sir," said the ambassador.
"Who told you to start a row?" demanded the skipper. "Don't you know your duty? You was to give 'em the hultimatum and retire dignified. Do you call it retirin' dignified to run and beller like a bull-calf?"
Simcox looked sulky and injured.
"How was I to look dignified with six of 'em after me—and two with knives and one with a meat-chopper?" he asked. "And as for startin' a rough house, 'twas Hart as done it."
"Where's Hart?" yelled the Guffin.
"'Ere, 'Art, where are you?" said the crowd.
"I believe he's a prisoner," said Lampert.
"Oh, Lord," said the crowd, "but Jack never 'ad no discretion."
"We must 'ave him liberated," said the skipper firmly. "No man of mine must be in the 'ands of them mutilatin' French. Simcox, you'll 'ave to go to 'em again and open n'gotiashuns!"
"No, sir," said Simcox, "if you'll excuse me, I'll do nothin' of the sort. I've had my fill up of bein' ambassador."
"This is mut'ny," said the skipper; "but under the painful national circumstances I shan't do nothin' but order you to your cabin, where you'll consider yourself in custody."
Simcox looked greatly relieved, and went without delay.
"Mr. Lampert, you'll be hambassador," said the old man, after a drink of brandy.
The mate looked the skipper up and down.
"I'll see you further first," he cried. "'Twas you that started the row and the trouble, and you can get out of it as you like."
"This is rank mut'ny," said the skipper, "and you could be 'ung for refusin' duty. But under the painful nash'nal circumstances you can retire to your cabin and be your own bloomin' policeman till peace is restored, when I'll try you and sentence you, you run and scuttle swine you."
"Oh, that's all right," said the mate contemptuously.
"Now, men," said the skipper thickly, "what I wants is 'earty support. Who'll volunteer for to be hambassador?"
The crew looked at each other and shook their heads. They scuffled with uneasy feet on the lopsided deck.
"They're standin' upon the 'ill as thick as pea-sticks," said one of the boys.
"Speak hup," roared the skipper.
The crew shoved old Mac in front.
"We've revolved the notion up and over," said Mac, "and we've come to the conclusion, sir, there ain't nothin' to be got by sendin' ignorant men like we on such errands."
The skipper hiccupped angrily.
"Who asted you to think? But I ain't the man to press unwilling lubbers into goin' aloft,Ican lead the way. Go into the fo'castle, you dogs, and consider yourselves under arrest. Go!"
"Blimy," said the crowd, "but we're all in our own custody, so we are. Now what's the old man goin' to do?"
They watched him from the fo'castle as he staggered into his own part of the ship.
"I'll be my own hambassador," said Jones. "I'll show 'em 'ow to work things with dignity; I'll show that ass Lampert what's o'clock. What you wants in such cases made and provided is tact, and go, and innerds. Innerds is the chief need. Why fight if palaver'll do? Where I was wrong was to send a galoot like Simcox. But what could I do but work the best with the tools I 'ad? If I'd gone myself, we'd 'ave made peace afore there was a row."
He came staggering out of the cabin with a case of brandy and laid it on the after capstan.
"I guess I'll have a boy," said Jones. "'Ere, you scum, send me Billy." And Billy came aft.
"I releases you temp'ry without bail," said the skipper fiercely, "so puckalow that case and foller me. No, you wait till I gets a tablecloth as a signal I'm willin' to 'ave peace."
When he came out with a cloth he went ashore and stumbled up the hill, followed by the boy Billy, bearing the case of brandy. He found the crew of the Frenchmen lining the crest, and heard them talk.
"Say, Johnny French," said old Jones, "if you wants war, prepare for peace. Who's the captain?"
"Sapristi!" said the French captain.
Jones nodded.
"Give it up, old son. It warn't my fault, if relyin' on the discretion of ambassadors ain't a fault: and maybe you can swaller the hultimatum with some real good brandy throwed in. And is your name Sapristi?"
"Nom de Dieu——" began the Frenchman, but Jones waved his hand with dignity.
"Call yourself what you like, but 'ave you got anythin' in the way of a marlinspike or a splice bar as'll open this yer case?"
The foreigners, perceiving that the Englishman was on an errand of peace, gathered about the case, and soon discovered from the stencilled inscription that it at any rate pretended to come from Cognac.
"Goddam," said the little red-capped Frenchman who had first discovered them. "Cognac! I spik English—brandee, Por'smout', Lon-don!"
Jones made signs that he presented the case to them.
"I ain't above makin' a concession or two," he remarked confidentially to the French captain; "but if I'd listened to my lot on board, it would 'ave been blood up to the neck."
The Frenchman shook his head.
"You bet it would 'ave bin," said Jones earnestly, "but what d'ye say to 'avin' a drink? Billy, gimme your knife."
And with it he started opening the case, while the Frenchmen's eyes gleamed in pleasing anticipation. They had not had a drink for weeks. And as they carried the case down to the ship with Jones and their own captain in the rear, they concluded that the English were not such bad chaps after all.
"But where's my man 'Art!" asked Jones, when he came to the French camp.
"'Ere I be," cried Hart, who was lashed hard and fast to a round rock. "Lord, captain, but I've 'ad a time. Can't you cut me adrift, sir?"
Jones shook his head.
"You interferin' galoot, it serves you right. And as for that, the 'ole crew's under arrest, where I put 'em for mut'ny, and I don't see as I should so pick and choose among 'em as to use my hinfluence to 'ave you let go. At any rate, bide a bit, and I'll see."
For it was obvious that the drinking was going to begin. The French captain served the liquor out in a small glass to every one, and presently some of his melancholy disappeared. He gave an order to one of his men who brought two more glasses, one for the English captain, and one for himself.
"I looks towards you," said Jones.
"À votre santé," cried the Frenchman. "Monsieur, vous êtes un homme de coeur quand mêne."
"I don't savvy, but I dessay you means well," said the captain. "Now, if I'd thought to bring along the signal book we might 'ave 'ad quite a talk. But time enough; I dessay afore we're took off I shall patter your lingo like blazes. Shall I cut my man loose there?"
He pointed to Hart, and though two of the Frenchmen, who had black eyes, remonstrated against the deed of mercy, Hart was unlashed and given a drink.
"Here's to you, old cocklywax," said Hart, with a scrape of his leg. "I bears no grudge, not me."