Chapter Sixteen.
I was so indignant at what the spiteful little brute said that I incontinently turned on my heel and left him without another word, going forwards towards the bridge to give the skipper Stoddart’s message.
Here, the sight of Colonel Vereker’s grand figure—one that would be remarkable anywhere, towering above the rail and almost herculean in its massive proportions, coupled with the sad look in his noble face, and which reminded me somehow or other of one of the pictures of the old Cavaliers of the Stuart days, made me resent the more the baseless imputation of his being an imposter.
The idea of such a thing being possible could only have occurred to an ignoble mind like that of Spokeshave; for one single glance at the distinguished-looking gentleman’s speaking countenance, with its finely-chiselled features and lofty open brow, would have satisfied any unprejudiced person that his was a nature incompatible with deceit and meanness, even in the most remote degree.
“Well, young Haldane!” exclaimed old Mr Stokes, whom I found with Captain Applegarth and the colonel when I reached the wheel-house.
“What do those smart chaps of mine down below say, hey, my boy?”
His face beamed as he spoke and he looked as if he would have liked to have rubbed his hands together in his old way when he felt particularly jolly, but unfortunately his crippled arm, which was still in a sling, prevented that!
“Oh, that’s all right, sir,” I replied in an equally cheery tone, the old chief’s genial address making me forget at once my anger at Spokeshave’s contemptible nonsense. “Mr Stoddart directed me to tell the cap’en that he may go on ahead as usual, as he likes, for everything has been made taut and secure below and there need be no fear of another mishap. He says he intends driving the engines as they were never driven before, and he has put every fireman and oiler in the stoke-hold on the job.”
“Bravo!” cried the skipper, sounding the gong again and yelling down the voice-tube that led below like one possessed. “Fire up, below there, and let her rip!”
“Dear, dear,” panted Mr Stokes, whose fears for his engines, which he regarded with the affection which a young mother might bestow on her first baby, began to overcome his interest in the chase after the black pirates. “I hope you and Stoddart, between you, won’t be rash, cap’en. I hope—I do hope you won’t!”
“Nonsense, Stokes, you old croker; just you shut up!” said the skipper. “Keep her steady, east-nor’-east, helmsman! Now, my dear colonel, at last we really are after those infernal rascals in earnest; and, sir, between you and me and the binnacle, we’ll be up to them before long before nightfall, I’ll wager!”
“I hope to heaven we will, Señor Applegarth,” replied the other sadly, but eagerly. “But, alas! the ocean is wide, and we may miss the ship. I cannot bear to think of it!”
“Oh, but we won’t miss her!” said the skipper confidently, and he was the last man to give up hope. “Take my davy for that, sir. She must be within a radius of from twenty to thirty miles of our present bearings on the chart, somewhere here away to the eastwards, sir; and if we make a long leg to leeward and then bear up to the north’ard and west’ard again, we’ll overhaul her—I’m sure of it—yes, sure of it, in no time. Look, colonel, look how we’re going now. By George, ain’t that a bow wave for you, sir, and just see our wake astern!”
The old barquey was certainly steaming ahead at a great rate, the sea coming up before her in a high ridge that nearly topped the fo’c’s’le, and welling under her counter on either hand in undulating furrows that spread out beneath her stern in the form of a broad arrow, widening their distance apart as she moved onward, while the space between was frosted as if with silver by the white foam churned up by the ever-whirling propeller blades, beating the water with their rhythmical iteration, thump-thump, thump-thump, thump-thump!
There was no “racing” of the screw now, for Neptune was in one of his quiet moods and there were no big rollers to surmount, or deep wave valleys to descend into; consequently the old barquey had no excuse for giving way to any gambolling propensities in the water of pitching and tossing, steaming away on an even keel and using every inch of power of her engines, with not an ounce to waste in the way of mis-spent force!
And so on we went, tearing through the water, a blue sky overhead unflecked by a single cloud, a blue sea around that sparkled in sunshine and reflected harmonies of azure and gold, save where the bright fresh western breeze rippled its surface with laughing wavelets that chuckled as they splashed the spray into each other’s faces, or where we passed a stray scrap of gulf-weed with its long yellow filaments spread out like fingers vainly clutching at the wavelets as if imploring them to be still, or where again the dense black smoke from our funnels made a canopy in the sky athwart our track, obscuring the shimmering surface of the deep with a grim path of shadow that checked the mirth of the lisping young wavelets and even awed the sunshine when it came in closer contact anon, as the wind waved it this way and that at its will.
“Hi, bo’sun!” shouted out the skipper presently, after carrying on like this for a goodish spell, the deck working beneath our feet and the Star of the North seeming to be flying through water and air alike by a series of leaps and bounds, quivering down to her very kelson with the sustained motion and the ever-driving impulse of her masterful engines spurring her onward. “How is she going now, eh?”
Old Masters was away aft on the poop hauling in the patent log, which had been hove over the side on our beginning the run, and the next minute, as soon as he was able to look at the index of the instrument, he answered the skipper’s question.
“Sixteen knots, sir!” he sang out, and then we could hear the old sea dog add his customary comment, whether of approval or discontent, “Well, I’m blowed!”
“By George, colonel!” cried Captain Applegarth to our melancholy-looking guest at his side. “We’re going sixteen knots, sir; just think of that! I didn’t believe the dear old barquey had it in her!”
“It is a good, wonderful speed, captain,” replied the other, who, I noticed, was looking even more exhausted now than when we removed him from the boat. “Remember, though, sir, the Saint Pierre is sailing on all this time before the wind, as she was this morning and must be miles ahead of us!”
“Aye, I know she’s going; or at least, I suppose so, and I’ve made every allowance for that in my calculation of her whereabouts,” returned our skipper, in nowise daunted by the colonel’s argument. “But if she had every rag set that she could carry, she couldn’t go more than three or four knots at the most, in this light breeze; and for every foot she covers we’re going five!”
“That is true,” said the American, with a very weary and absent look on his face. “But—but I’m afraid we may be too late after all! I—I’m—God protect—my—my—”
“The fact is, my dear sir,” cried the skipper abruptly, interrupting him as the other hesitated in his speech, turning a deadly white and clutching at the bridge rail in front of him, as if to save himself from falling or fainting. “You’re completely worn out and your nerves shaken! Why, you can’t have had much, if any, sleep the last three or four days—not since that rumpus broke out aboard your ship, eh?”
“Heavens!” ejaculated the other. “I don’t think I have closed my eyes, señor, since Friday, excepting when I was drifting in the boat, part of which time I must have been senseless; for though I recollect seeing your vessel and trying to signal her by holding up a piece of the bottom planking of the boat, as we hadn’t oar or sail in her, I have no remembrance of seeing your vessel steaming up to help us, or of this brave young gentleman here jumping into the water and swimming to our assistance, as you tell me, captain, that he gallantly did. Believe me, sir, I shall never forget you, and I shall be ever and eternally grateful to you for that noble act of yours!”
He half-turned and bowed to me politely as he said this, but I was too much confused by his exaggerated estimate of what I had done to say anything at the moment in reply. And, after all, it was only a very simple thing to do, to swim with a line to a boat; any other fellow could have done the same, and would have done it under the same circumstances.
The skipper, however, spoke for me.
“Come, come, sir,” he said. “Haldane only did his duty, like the brave lad he is; and I’m sure you only make him uncomfortable by your thanks. I want you, colonel, to go below and have a little rest and some refreshment. Besides, I promised Mr O’Neil to send you down to have your wounded leg dressed and seen to more than half an hour ago, when he came up on deck after attending to that other poor chap, and yet here you are still, talking and exciting yourself. How is your leg now, colonel? Easier?”
“Confound it! No, no!” replied the other, with a writhe of torture as he changed his position so as to relieve the strain on the wounded limb, which I had quite forgotten about, the brave follow having stoically repressed all indication of pain while urging on the pursuit of the black mutineers. “It’s hurting me like the devil! But, sir, I cannot rest or leave the deck till we come up to that accursed ship and save my poor child, my little darling—if we be not too late, too late!”
“This is nonsense, sir,” said the skipper bluntly, and rather angrily, I thought, and he continued:
“The ship, we know, must be a goodish bit ahead of us still, and we can’t possibly overhaul her for an hour or more at the earliest. So come, cheer up, and come along with me and have your leg attended to at once. I insist, colonel; come.”
“But,” persisted Colonel Vereker, evidently trying to make out the time in arguing, and loth to leave the scene of action, though apparently ready to drop now from sheer pain and exhaustion combined, “Who will—who will—”
“My first officer here, Mr Fosset, will remain on the bridge during our absence below,” interposed Captain Applegarth, anticipating his last, unuttered objection. “He’s quite competent to take charge, and I’m sure will let us know the moment the ship comes in sight, if she appears before we return on deck.”
“Aye, that I will, sir,” cried out Mr Fosset. “I’ll keep a sharp look-out, and I’ll hail you, sir, sharp enough, as soon as she heaves in sight on the horizon.”
“There!” exclaimed the skipper in an exultant tone, taking hold of the colonel’s reluctant arm and placing it within his own, so as to lead him away and to give him the benefit of his support down the bridge-ladder. “Won’t that satisfy you now, sir, and you see you’ll lose nothing by going below for a spell? Come, come, my good friend, have the leg seen to and eat something, for you must require it. Why, colonel, unless you keep up your strength and spur yourself up a bit you won’t be able to tackle those black scoundrels when we get up to the ship and catch them and it comes to a fight, as I expect it will. So come along, my hearty; rouse yourself and come!”
This concluding remark of the old skipper affected more than all his previous persuasion, the colonel at once allowing himself to be helped down the laddering without further demur, and so along the gangway on the upper deck, towards the lower entrance to the saloon under the beak of the poop, I lending the aid of my shoulder for the crippled man to lean on as he limped painfully onward, having to pause at almost every step, his wounded leg dragging now so much, now that excitement no longer sustained his flagging frame; the skipper gave aid too, his arm propping him up on the other side.