The Blue Pavilions Part 25

"Well, my son," began Captain Salt, as the Earl reascended the stairs. "Thanks be that we are alone together at last! Do I not keep my promises?"

"Indeed, father, you are kind. There is only one thing-"

"What is that?"

"I should prefer to return to Harwich alive; and seeing that I have eaten nothing for a day and a half-"

His father interrupted him by taking his arm and hurrying him off to the kitchen of the auberge, where a fat woman was basting a couple of ducks before a roaring fire.

"Pardon me, mistress," he began in Dutch; "but can you give this young man a breakfast?"

The hostess seemed to be annoyed.

"What does he want?" she inquired sharply.

The question being interpreted to Tristram, he answered that he wanted everything, but that in the meantime the ducks would serve to break the edge of his fast.

"But these are for his Majesty."

"What have you besides?"

"Salt fish."

"I will begin with salt fish."

"Bacon."

"I see," said Tristram, nodding up at a regiment of hams that depended from a rack overhead; "I will eat these also. What else?"

"Cheese."

"On second thoughts, I will begin with cheese while the fish is being prepared. Is that all?"

"Mother of G.o.d! Is it not enough?"

"How can I tell yet? Let me see your bread and cheese."

The woman left her ducks, and in a minute had dumped down a loaf and a huge round cheese of an orange colour before our hero.

"When do we start?" he asked, with his mouth full.

"Shortly after dark."

"Then I have plenty of time."

"I should hope so. Hostess, bring a bottle of wine."

"Two bottles," Tristram interrupted.

"It will get into your head."

"I hope so, for my head is something light at present."

"You propose, then, to spend the day in eating and drinking?"

"Unless you know of some better amus.e.m.e.nt with which we can beguile the time."

"None whatever. And as I must leave you for some time while I make arrangements for our return-"

"I shall not be lonely," said Tristram, with a glance at the ducks, followed by an upward look of resignation directed at the rows of hams.

It was dark when Captain Salt returned, and found his son on the settle where he had left him. Tristram was not sitting, however, but stretched at length and breathing heavily. At the farther end of the table sat the host and hostess of the inn, engaged in making out the bill.

"One-two-three-six bottles!" exclaimed his father, counting the ruins on the board. "Why, the boy is drunk!"

"No, father," Tristram interrupted, sitting up and rubbing his eyes; "not so much drunk as asleep, and not so much asleep but that I could see the landlord here add three empty bottles to the two I had finished, without counting one that came full to the table and was emptied by him for his supper."

Captain Salt shot a searching glance at the couple, who coloured and seemed confused.

"What is this?" he cried, examining the reckoning. "Two ducks!"

"Ah, I'm afraid it is true that I ate one of the ducks."

"But they were for his Majesty!"

"It appears they were cooked on the chance of pleasing his Majesty, who left, however, without inquiring for them. The landlord and his wife have just eaten the other. Is it time to start?"

"Yes."

Tristram jumped up and stretched himself, smiling amiably on the host and hostess, who returned his look with no very good will. Captain Salt, having made the proper deductions calmly, paid the reckoning, and they left the house.

Outside the weather was still dirty, and a wind, which had gradually risen since the morning, blew in their faces charged with chilly moisture. The mist, however, had cleared a little, and Tristram, as he rammed his hat tightly on his head before facing the night, could see the lights of the squadron far out upon the black and broken waters of the Maese.

"In what s.h.i.+p do we return?" he asked.

The wind apparently drowned his question; for Captain Salt started off without replying and led the way down across the sandbanks. It seemed to Tristram that their path lay to the left of that by which they had approached the inn early in the morning. He was straining his eyes on the look out for the wooden landing-stage, when suddenly, on climbing a ridge somewhat higher than the rest, he saw the white fringe of the waves glimmering close under his feet and the inky shadow of a boat, in which sat a couple of dark forms. One of them, hearing the low whistle uttered by Captain Salt, scrambled forward to the bows and held out a hand.

Tristram looked at his father, who nodded. They entered the boat in silence, and within a minute were being rowed rapidly across the tide. It struck our hero that the oars made remarkably little noise, in spite of the energy with which they were plied. He was about to speak, but checked himself on seeing his father raise a finger to his lips. "What is the meaning of this?" he wondered. His enormous meal had made him drowsy; and deciding that, if not allowed to speak, he might at least nod, he closed his eyes.

He opened them again with a start. From the sh.o.r.e behind them the roar of guns had just burst out upon the night.

This was his first impression; but the sound was not repeated, and in a moment or two he fancied he must have been dreaming of the salute he had heard in the lazarette of the Good Intent, as the squadron sailed out of Harwich. The boat was still moving with unabated speed, and the dark, choppy water stretched all round them. Through the murky night the s.h.i.+ps' lanterns still shone steadily enough, but farther off than before, and at a sharp angle behind his right shoulder.

"It seems we are not steering very straight for the fleet," he could not help remarking.

"We are not steering for the fleet," said his father.

"But I thought-"