Harry Milvaine Part 23

The s.h.i.+p, by the bye, was lying off the Sultan's Palace, in the roadstead at Zanzibar.

"Yes--French Charlie?"

"Well, sir, he cook one excellent dinner, and wait too; and myself, sir, vill make de curry."

"Very well, steward, but mind this, if there be one-sixth of a grain of garlic in the whole boiling of it, you shall swing at the yard's arm."

"Ver goot, sir."

"Now, off with you on sh.o.r.e, and give your orders. Don't forget to be off in time. Take the dingy and bring off quickly a boat-load of flowers and green stuff."

Mr Dewar was just as quick at work as he was with his tongue and sword, and both of the latter, it was universally allowed, he could make the best of.

He was ably supported on this occasion by the whole strength of the mess, including Simmonds, the clerk--they were but five in all--and the engineer himself.

The captain cheerfully accepted the invitation, and proposed to the surgeon that forward in the course of the evening they should splice the main-brace.

The doctor a.s.sented with alacrity, and the s.h.i.+p's stores thus expended were afterwards put down as sick-bay comforts.

The steward was off in good time, with foliage and flowers. Then a huge awning was rigged on deck, and lined with flags and candles stuck amidst the flowers, and branching bayonets and cutla.s.ses.

The steward did his duty n.o.bly; so did French Charlie.

For once there smoked on the tables of the _Bunting_ a banquet that the Sultan himself would have enjoyed.

The toast of the evening, after the loyal ones, was of course Captain Wayland; and that gentleman replied in the neatest little speech that had ever been heard on the deck of a man-o'-war.

The dessert on the table deserves especial notice. No place in the world can vie with Zanzibar for its fruit, and here were samples of probably a score of different sorts, almost unknown in England. The pine-apples were especially delightful, appealing to eye, to scent, and taste all at once. But probably the king of fruits was the mango. If this is indeed Eve's apple, one can hardly wonder our first parent fell.

The trees these grow on in the forest of this beautiful isle of the sea are a picture. Fancy an enormous chestnut with its branches weighted to the ground with fragrant fruit somewhat like peaches, but each as big as a cocoanut!

The sides of the deck-tent were decorated with flowers, but on the table itself stood the choicest of all. Shall I describe them? I cannot, for--

Here my muse her wings must cower, 'Twere far indeed beyond her power To praise enough e'en one sweet flower.

When dessert had been done moderate justice to, then the end of the curtain was drawn aside, the steward brought up the "sick-bay comforts,"

and in due form the main-brace was spliced; and every man as he raised the cup to his lips wished long life and prosperity to their jolly captain.

After this there was a wild hurrah! and in the very midst of it the doctor started playing.

Well, some of my readers may have seen sham sailors dancing on the stage. But never on any stage is such wild footing witnessed as that which graces the deck of a man-of-war on a night like the present.

But everything has an end. The men retired at last to the bows and fo'c's'le to talk of home and spin yarns till long past midnight.

Meanwhile the officers once more surrounded the festive board, and after a few songs story-telling commenced.

As one at least of the yarns spun was not devoid of humour, I do not think I need apologise for repeating it.

It was the doctor's yarn.

He helped himself to an orange and a mango and a handful of nuts and raisins, to pare, to eat, to crack, and to pick, because the truth is the doctor was a Scotchman, and Scotchmen never talk half so well as when they are doing something, if it be only whittling a stick.

"Ahem!" began the doctor, clearing his throat.

"Attention, gentlemen," said Mr Dewar, the president.

Book 2--CHAPTER FIVE.

THE SURGEON'S YARN.

"You must know, then," said Dr Scott, "that though I do not vouch for the absolute truth of this story, the reason is that I was not myself one of the actors therein. But I have it on what I call indisputable authority, for old Brackenbury, who is the princ.i.p.al hero, told it to me one evening in his little place down in sunny Devons.h.i.+re. And I do not believe that Brackenbury ever told an untrue tale in his life.

"A funny old fellow was Brackenbury, and it seemed to me that he must always have been old--must have been _born_ old. He wasn't a handsome man, nor had he a pretty face; his nearest and dearest wouldn't have said he had. Yet, gentlemen, it is truly wonderful what a change for the better the play of a good-natured smile throws over even the plainest countenance. And Brackenbury used to smile from his very heart. Then he had such honest, truthful eyes that you couldn't have helped liking the man.

"But to my tale, as Burns says.

"Goodness knows how long ago it is, but Brackenbury was then about in his prime, and commanded a fine vessel, that, after discharging a mixed cargo at Sydney, was ordered on a kind of a mixed cruise round to San Francisco, which was only a small village then, but had the gold fever rampant. Here he had to take on board specie, with a gentleman as supercargo. They were then to slip southwards along the western sh.o.r.es of South America, calling at Callao for goods from Lima, and so onwards round the Horn and home.

"I don't think that Brackenbury and the supercargo, Mr O'Brady, liked each other over much. There was a natural jealousy between them.

Brackenbury looked upon O'Brady as a kind of spy on his actions, and O'Brady didn't like Brackenbury's airs, as he was pleased to call them.

"Never mind, they were s.h.i.+pmates and messmates, and they settled down together as well as they could.

"Lima was in those days a hot place, socially speaking, but Brackenbury and his supercargo found themselves most hospitably treated. There was one tall, dark, handsome gentleman, called Pedro Dolosa, whom they frequently met at dinner-parties, who used to smoke much with them and hob-n.o.b in the cool verandahs after dessert. He took to them very much apparently, and they were both flattered by his attention, for was he not a count, Le Comte Pedro de Dolosa? That was his tally complete.

"Brackenbury opened his heart to him; O'Brady was jealous, and opened his heart still more wide to Le Comte Pedro de Dolosa; and these two old fools did what they had no right to do--they told this strange count what their cargo was.

"However, the _Adelaide_ left Callao at last, and after encountering a gale that blew them a long way out of their course, they lost their reckoning; but one day they found themselves pretty close to the sh.o.r.e again, and, the weather being now fine, they managed to find out their whereabouts.

"They were south the line, and on a lovely coast.

"'I move,' said Brackenbury, 'that we enjoy ourselves a bit; I'm fond of shooting and botany.'

"'So am I,' replied O'Brady.

"Now more than once they had seen a very pretty little yacht careering about, as if watching them, but they had no suspicion of anything like foul play.

"It was seen again and again after this, but when one day it stood away in through an island-bound creek--

"'I'll bet a penny,' said Brackenbury, 'that that is some English lord out on the sport; what's sauce for the goose is sauce for the gander, let's follow him.'

"'Agreed,' said O'Brady.

"And so they did.

"They soon found themselves in an unusually romantic spot. A little bay it was, with a native village at the head of it, which looked imposing as seen from the sea. Then there was a beautiful river meandering down through a well-wooded, rolling valley, and far inland were hills and mountains.

"The yacht lay there at anchor, but she had hoisted Spanish colours.

Next morning at breakfast--