The Ocean Cat's Paw Part 49

"Oh, that's soon done," cried the skipper. "Didn't you go and gammon the soldiers when they were after the escaped French prisoners? Don't you call that a mad act? Fighting against the laws of your country like that!"

"Ah, well, I suppose I oughtn't to have helped them, captain; but I couldn't help it."

"No, sir, and that's what the Frenchmen would say. Now, what in the world is that chap after, with his mission, as he calls it? What does he mean by coming rampaging out south with a hole in the bottom of his brig and the pumps going straight on to keep the water down? Would any one but a lunatic go risking his crew and his vessel like that?"

"Well, it does seem rather wild," replied Rodd thoughtfully.

"Wild? Well, that's only your way of saying he's stick, stark, staring mad. And here he's been out weeks and weeks, knowing as he says that his brig was sinking, when he could have put in at Gib, or the Azores, or Las Palmas, or brought up in one of the West Coast rivers, where he could run up on the tidal mud, careened his vessel, and set his s.h.i.+p's carpenter to work to clap patches upon her bottom outside and in. Don't you call that mad?"

"No. He might have had reasons for not doing so."

"Ah, that's right, sir; argufy. You young scholarly chaps who have been to big schools and got your heads chock-full of Latin and Greek, you are beggars to argufy--chopping logic, I suppose you calls it--and I give in. You could easily beat me at that; just as easily as I could turn you round my little finger at navigation. But I'll have one more go at you; I says that there French Count is mad."

"And I say he is not," said Rodd, "only a brave, eccentric n.o.bleman who may have a good many more reasons for what he does than we know."

"All right, youngster. I give you my side. Now that's yours. Now, just answer me this. Warn't it the crack-brainedest bit of ask-you-to-go-and-borrow-a-new-strait-waistcoat-to-put-me-in sort of a job for him to bring his two boat-loads of men, like a black-flag-and-cross-boned Paul Jones sort of a pirate, aboard our schooner in the dark, thinking he's going to take possession of it to use instead of his own brig, when if he'd had any gumption he might have managed to patch her up, and--Here, I say, I can't go on talking like this before breakfast, my lad. I must have my bowl of coffee and a bit of salt pork and biscuit before I say another word."

"Oh, very well," cried Rodd merrily. "I see we shan't agree; and we don't want to quarrel, do we, captain?"

"Quarrel? Not us, my lad! It takes two to do that, and we knows one another too well."

"Then look here," cried Rodd, "you are taking it very coolly and talking about breakfast; aren't you going to order the boat out and go aboard the brig at once?"

"I aren't a-going to do anything till I have had my breakfast," said the captain. "They've spoilt my morning snooze, but I aren't going to let them spoil my morning meal, nor my lads' neither."

"But it's urgent," cried Rodd. "Suppose while you are thinking of eating and drinking the brig goes down?"

"Yah! She won't go down. If she's floated for weeks like that she'll keep her nose above water while I swallow two bowls of coffee. I can't work without something to keep me going. Let them pump for another half-hour, and then we'll go."

"We!" said Rodd sharply. "That means me too?"

"Oh, ah, if you like to come; only we shall have to keep a sharp look-out."

"What, for fear it should sink under us?"

"Nay, I didn't mean that, my lad. I mean, you see, we are dealing with a lunatic."

"Captain!" cried Rodd indignantly.

"Ay, but we are, and there's no knowing what sort of games fellows like that will be up to. I mean to give the mate strict orders to load all three guns, and if he sees the Count coming off again with his two boats full of men to take possession while he's got us tight, to sink them without mercy. Ah, here's the stooard, welcome, as you might say, as the flowers in spring. Come along, my lad, and let's lay in stores."

In spite of his words and deliberate way of proceeding, Captain Chubb had made his arrangements so that within half-an-hour of going down to breakfast he had the schooner's boat lowered down with Joe Cross, five men, and the carpenter, who had already handed into the boat what he called his bag of tricks, the said tricks being composed of an adze, saws, chisels, augers, and nails, and very shortly afterwards the oars were dipping, and with Uncle Paul and Rodd in the stern-sheets they were gliding over the glittering sea and rapidly shortening the distance between them and the beautiful brig, which won a string of encomiums from the skipper as they drew near.

"Yes, she is a beauty," he said. "It would be a pity to let her go down. Look at her lines, and the way she's rigged. If I wanted to sail a brig I wouldn't wish for a better; but then, you see, I don't. She's a bit low in the water, though, and no mistake. Well, we shall see; we shall see."

The Count and his son were eagerly awaiting their coming, and welcomed them warmly as they mounted the side, while, casting off his show of indifference, the skipper cast an admiring glance round the deck of the brig, and then gruffly exclaimed--

"Now then, sir, I want your bo'sun. But look here, can he parley English?"

"No," said the Count, "but my son and I will interpret everything you wish to hear."

"I don't know as I want to hear anything, sir," growled the skipper. "I want to see for myself, and after that mebbe I shall want to give a few orders, which I will ask you to have carried out."

"Yes; everything you wish shall be done directly."

"Umph!" grunted the skipper, looking round. "Pump rigged, and two men trying to keep the water under. Ought to be four."

"Yes, of course," cried the Count, and he turned to give an order; but Captain Chubb clapped his hand upon his arm.

"Hold hard," he said. "They'll do for a bit. Now then, I want to go below and sound the well."

The Count and his son led the way below, the French crew standing aloof and displaying the discipline of a man-of-war, no man leaving his place while the skipper made all the investigations he required, and then came up on deck with his mahogany face more deeply lined with wrinkles than before.

"Well, captain," said Uncle Paul, while Rodd, who had kept close to his young friend of the Dartmoor stream, eagerly listened for what their expert had to say.

"Well, sir," he said, at last, as he took out a little seal-skin bag and deliberately helped himself to a little ready-cut sc.r.a.p of pigtail tobacco, "your craft's in a bad way, and if something isn't done pretty smart she'll be down at the bottom before long."

"Yes, yes," cried the Count impatiently, "but we have tried everything, and it is impossible to get at the leak."

"Hah! Tried everything, have you, sir?"

"Yes, yes," cried the Count. "Some of my brave fellows have been half-drowned in diving, trying to plug from inside, using yards to force bags of oak.u.m into the holes."

"Yes," said the skipper. "The ball went right through, I suppose?"

"Yes, yes," cried the Count, and Rodd noted that he was having hard work to master his impatience and annoyance at the skipper's annoyingly deliberate treatment of their urgent needs.

"So I suppose," said the skipper coolly, "but mebbe you haven't done quite all; leastwise I should like to try my little plan, and if it don't answer, why, you won't be any worse off than you are now; and when I give it up as a bad job, why, you will have to take to your boats and we shall have to find room for you aboard the schooner. Now then, please, you will just order two more men at that pump, and four more ready to take their places so as to keep on pumping hard."

"Yes, yes," cried the Count eagerly. "What next?"

"Order up what spare sails you've got from the store-room, and a few coils of new line."

The Count gave his orders quickly, and his men went off to carry them out.

"Good," said the skipper coolly. "That's smart."

"What next?" cried the Count.

"Well, sir, as quickly as I can, I want to do something to lighten the s.h.i.+p."

"No; I must protest!" cried the Count excitedly. "You are going to throw the guns overboard?"

"Humph!" grunted the captain. "Who said so? I didn't. Nay, that'd be a pity. I wouldn't do that till the very last."

"Ah!" sighed the Count, as if deeply relieved.

"Well, the next thing is, sir, just you leave me and my men alone and let yours look on till I want their help."