Book: The Blue Pavilions

S >> Sir Arthur Thomas Quiller Couch >> The Blue Pavilions






CHAPTER XIII.


CAPTAIN SALT EFFECTS ONE SURPRISE AND PLANS TWO MORE.

On the sixth day after his departure Captain Salt returned to Dunkirk
unexpectedly.

He arrived about four in the afternoon and was rowed at once to the
Commodore's galley. He climbed on deck and looked about him. The
lieutenant stepped forward. Captain Salt shook hands and asked:

"Where is the Commodore?"

"In his cabin."

"Alone?"

"No; he is holding a council of war. All his captains are there."

Captain Salt whistled softly to himself.

"How long have they been sitting?" he asked.

"Less than ten minutes. In fact they have but just arrived."

"Thank you. I'll go down and look in."

"My friend," he said to himself, as he walked aft and descended the
ladder, "the chance has come sooner than you expected. You'll have
to play this game boldly."

He knocked at the cabin door and entered, with the dust of travel
thick upon him. He had ridden thirty-six miles since breakfast along
dusty roads and under a broiling sun. Nevertheless his manner was
cool enough as he bowed to all present.

"I must apologise, gentlemen, for the state of my clothes; but I
heard you were sitting and could not rest until I had saluted you."

They welcomed him heartily as he dropped into a vacant chair.
M. de la Pailletine reached across the table and shook hands with
him.

"It is very thoughtful of you," said the Commodore. "We were about
to draw up a plan of the cruises to be taken this week and shall be
glad to have your advice."

"I'm afraid, gentlemen, I'm too weary to offer much advice. But that
need not prevent my listening with attention to the wisdom of
others."

There was the faintest shade of derision in his voice, if they had
any cause for suspecting it. As it was, however, not a man present
had the slightest mistrust of him. He had conquered all their
prejudices.

The Commodore resumed the short speech he had been making; and when
he had concluded, one captain followed another with criticism and
fresh proposals--Captain Baudus, of _Le Paon_, the Chevalier de
Sainte-Croix, of _La Merveille_, Captain Denoyre, of the
_Sanspareil_. During their speeches Captain Salt sat perfectly
silent, either resting his head on his hands and stifling his yawns
as though politely concealing his weariness, or drumming quietly with
his fingers on the table and staring up at the ceiling like one lost
in thought.

But, all of a sudden, as M. de la Pailletine was in the act of
offering some remarks upon a scheme of Captain Denoyre's for a
descent upon the Isle of Thanet, the Englishman, still yawning, got
upon his legs and said very carelessly:

"I regret to interrupt _M. le Chef d'escadre_, but we waste time."

The Commodore paused, open-mouthed, in the middle of a sentence, and
stared.

"Yes, yes," repeated Captain Salt, nodding at him with the coolest
assurance; "we are really wasting time. Be so good as to lend me
your attention while I sketch out a little plan that I have drawn up
for a descent upon Harwich."

The officers round the board were fairly taken aback by this stroke
of impudence. The Commodore was the first to recover his presence of
mind, and said, drawing himself up:

"Monsieur appears not to have observed that I was speaking."

"Pardon, sir, but I observed that you were speaking overmuch.
But let me proceed. Harwich, as you know, is a port at the mouth of
the River Stour, at the extreme north-east corner of Essex. I give
you this information, gentlemen, as I am not sure if any of you have
travelled so far."

The captains looked at one another and the eldest among them,
M. Baudus, of _Le Paon_, stood up.

"Monsieur will forgive the remark," he said, "but it appears to me
that he forgets his place."

"Tut, tut," answered the Englishman, with an air of slight
impatience; "I must trouble you to sit down, sir, and attend.
Really," he continued, looking around, "I must insist upon the
attention of everyone, as I shall need your intelligent co-operation.
My plan is this: I mean to make this a night attack. We should leave
the harbour here in four days' time--that is to say, on the 23rd, if
the weather holds, and not later than six o'clock in the morning.
It may possibly be earlier, but that will depend to some extent on
the wind."

M. de la Pailletine by this time was white with passion. He began to
comprehend that his guest would not dare to speak thus without some
high authority to back him.

"Are we to understand, sir, that in this proposed expedition we sail
under your orders?"

"Certainly."

"May I ask to see your authority?"

"Of course you may."

Captain Salt put a hand into his breast and drew out a folded paper.
Laying this on the table, he let his eyes travel round with a quiet
smile.

It was signed in the handwriting and sealed with the seal of his
Majesty King Lewis.

M. de la Pailletine picked up the paper with a shaking hand and read
it through. There was no room for demur. The King commanded him, as
chief of the squadron of galleys lying in Dunkirk, to place his
ships, officers, and crews at Captain Salt's disposal and to follow
his instructions implicitly throughout the expedition. Moreover, the
Intendant was ordered to furnish whatever stores, artillery, etc.,
Captain Salt should find necessary to the success of his design.
If he should require it, the fighting strength of the galleys should
be supplemented by drafts from the regiments stationed in the
citadel, the Rice-bank, and Forts Galliard, Rever and Bon Esperance.

The Commodore read all this and laid the paper down on the table.
The officers around him scanned his face and saw there was no hope of
resistance. Nevertheless, for a moment they looked mutinous.

Their superior officer, however, set the example of graceful
obedience. He stood up and looked the Englishman straight in the
face. Then he spoke with a voice that trembled a little over the
opening words, but after that proceeded smoothly and composedly
enough.

"Monsieur, it is my honour to serve his Majesty without reservation,
even when he chooses to put a slight upon his tried servants.
Unfold your scheme. We will listen and lend you our best
co-operation."

"I thank you, monsieur. Is that all?"

"No, sir; not quite all. You will permit me in addition to remark
that you are a very dirty blackguard, and that if you choose to
resent this criticism, I am your very obedient servant."

"Ah, yes! We will discuss that, if you please, as soon as this
business is over. Meanwhile let me proceed with my remarks."

That same evening Captain Salt assumed the command and within half an
hour it was patent to every slave in the squadron that something
beyond the ordinary was afoot. The new commander began to issue
orders at once. Curiously enough, one of the first of these was
given to the fishing-smack with the green pennant, which had brought
him the Earl of Marlborough's letter five days before and had lain at
anchor ever since in the Basin. It was pretty well known to everyone
in Dunkirk that this little craft plied to and fro in the Jacobite
service and was allowed to pass the forts without challenge.
Indeed, she had a special permit. Therefore nobody wondered when
Captain Salt paid her red-bearded skipper a visit that evening, on
his way to the citadel; nor was the skipper astonished to receive a
letter for the Earl of Marlborough's secret agent at Ostend, and be
bidden to leave the harbour that night.

Yet the red-bearded skipper would have been considerably astonished
had he been able to read the cipher in which this letter was written,
or had he the faintest idea that the small mark on the corner of the
wrapper meant that it was to be translated at once and dispatched
post-haste to King William.

For, indeed, the Captain was now playing not merely a double, but a
triple and perhaps a quadruple game. He was not only playing for
William against James, and for James against William, but for the
Earl against both, and for himself above all. For the moment he
wished to get to Harwich with power over the two old men who (as he
conceived it) were defrauding him of his privileges; and to obtain
full possession of those privileges he must stand well with William,
who at present suspected him.

What better proof could he offer that his journey had been all in his
master's interest than by engaging the six galleys at Dunkirk in an
attack upon Harwich, and forewarning the King of his design? Or how
could the Earl have a better chance of clearing himself of the King's
suspicions than by receiving this warning and passing it on to the
King?

Unfortunately this accomplished schemer omitted to take account of
three accidents, for the simple reason that he could not have
anticipated them: first, the two old men whom he meant to terrify at
Harwich were at that moment in Holland; and, second, the son, in
whose name he meant to terrify them, slept every night within a foot
of his head, a galley-slave, disguised beyond recognition and filled
with a just resentment. Number three will be mentioned hereafter.

The little fishing-smack sailed out of Dunkirk that evening, an hour
after sunset.

During the next three days Captain Salt worked hard. Sufficient
stores were laid in to last for a week's cruise. The slaves who
worked on shore were brought on board. The galleys' beaks were
tested, the guns examined, oars and rigging carefully overhauled.
A fresh supply of ammunition was drawn from the citadel and the
fighting crew of each vessel increased by fifty men, with a few Swiss
artillerymen from the batteries of Bourgogne, Auguenois and Santerre.
In all this M. de la Pailletine lent the readiest aid. He had
postponed his animosity to the day when they should return to
harbour; and to the casual eye he and the Englishman were excellent
friends.

By the night of August 22nd all was ready.

At nine o'clock next morning the six galleys started in solemn
procession past the forts and out into the open sea, which was smooth
as glass. A light but steady breeze breathed across the sky from the
Northeast. They could have hoped for nothing better. The broad
lateen sails were spread, and the slaves sat quietly before their
oars, ready to row, though for hour after hour there was no need of
rowing. The six vessels kept within easy distance of each other, and
Captain Salt, on the deck of _L'Heureuse_, directed their movements
with a serenity that cheered even the poor men on the benches below
him. As the awning shook and the masts creaked gently above them,
they stretched their limbs, drew long breaths, and felt that after
all it was good to live.

So steady did the wind keep all day that about five in the evening
they brought the English coast in sight. It was the opinion of all
the captains that they should run up for Harwich at once; but the
Englishman had other views.

"It is too early," he told M. de la Pailletine. "There are cruisers
about, and if we are seen the game will be spoiled."

He gave orders to lower the sails and stand off till nightfall.
The captain, of course, obeyed.

They had not lain to above an hour when the man who had been sent to
the masthead of _L'Heureuse_ shouted out:

"A fleet to the north!"

"Whither bound?" called up Captain Salt.

"Steering west."

"What number?"

The man was silent for a moment, then answered:

"Thirty-six sail, all merchant-built, and an escort."

"What is she like?"

"A frigate, of about thirty guns."



CHAPTER XIV.


THE GALLEYS AND THE FRIGATE.

_I.--The Frigate._

The _Merry Maid_ had left the Texel by the narrow gut called
De Witt's Diep, with her convoy following in line and in
admirable order. The breeze was fair for England. A full round
moon rose over the sandbanks behind them as Captain Barker sent the
pilots ashore and stood easily out to sea, for the most of his
merchant-ships were sluggish sailers, and not a few overladen.
So clear was the night that, as he paced the quarter-deck with the
dew falling steadily around him, he could not only count their
thirty-six lanterns, but even discern their piled canvas glimmering
as they stole like ghosts in his wake.

That night he left his watch for an hour only, when shortly before
dawn Captain Runacles came to relieve him, threatening mutiny unless
he retired to snatch a little slumber. But the sun was scarce up
before the little man reappeared. The pride of his old profession
was working like yeast within him. His breast swelled and his chin
lifted as he found the convoy still sailing in close order, obeying
his signals smoothly and intelligently as a trained pack obeys its
huntsman. He was delighted with the frigate and her crew, who were
English to a man. To be sure there was a fair sprinkling of Dutchmen
among the soldiers; but his heart had begun to warm somewhat towards
that nation. As he shambled to and fro, jerking out from time to
time some necessary orders, he saw that he had the respect of all
these fellows, even while they smiled at him. They felt that this
distorted little framework held a man. He divined this with the
quick sensibility that marks all deformed people. His green eyes
kindled. In the pride of his soul he had almost forgotten Tristram.

The sight of the English coast, dim and purple beneath the declining
sun, brought it back to him with a pang. After all, Tristram was
still lost, and his journey to Holland had been a failure therefore.
With a sudden contempt for all that a moment before he had been
enjoying, he turned to his friend and asked him to take charge for a
while.

Nothing more was said, but Captain Runacles guessed what drove the
little man below like a wounded beast, and began to pace the deck
gloomily.

"He'll never take it up again," he muttered. "It's all very well,
and he thinks he's getting comfort out of it. But it won't do."

He paused for a moment, contemplated the distant coast and resumed
his tread, repeating: "It won't do, Jack; it won't do a bit, my boy."


Captain Barker sat in his cabin alone, staring at a knot of wood on
the table before him. There were traces of tears on his cheeks.

Somebody tapped at the door.

"What is it?"

"The devil," answered Captain Runacles' voice, coolly. "Six galleys
to the south, between us and the Thames!"

Captain Barker sprang up and hurried up on deck.

"So those are the craft I've heard so much about," he remarked,
taking down the glass through which he had been eyeing them for a
couple of minutes.

"What do you propose, Jack?"

"Propose? Why, propose to do what I'm here for--to save the convoy."

"That's very pretty. But do you know how fast those sharks can
move?"

"No, I don't. But I know they can outpace us. Nevertheless, I'll
save the convoy."

"How?"

"There's only one way."

"And that is--"

"By losing the frigate."

Captain Runacles looked at him for a second, and then placed a hand
on his shoulder. This simple gesture expressed all his heart.
Captain Barker turned briskly.

"Signal the convoy," he shouted, "to make all sail and run for the
Thames!"


_II--The Galleys._

M. de la Pailletine was in some respects a weak man. He was
impatient. Up to this moment his behaviour in an extremely galling
position had been perfect. He had been content to bide his time and
had furthered every order issued by his rival with the cheerfullest
alacrity.

But when the man at the masthead announced the advance of the
merchant fleet, he allowed himself to be tempted and turned to
Captain Salt who stood beside him.

"You will follow them, of course?"

"Of course I shall do nothing of the sort. On the contrary, I intend
to steer to the south, out of their sight."

"You will fling away this splendid prize?"

"Let me remind you, monsieur, that we are bound for Harwich."

"But this is folly, Captain Salt! Harwich will remain where it is,
and we can ravage it at any time. Never again may we have so fine an
opportunity of capturing thirty-six merchantmen and a British frigate
almost without a blow."

"Excuse me, M. de la Pailletine, but I do not allow my orders to be
criticised."

"Then listen to me, sir," retorted the Commodore, his face red with
fury, as he drew from his coat the orders which the King had
addressed to him. "You see this paper? Very well; I destroy it."
He tore it into shreds, and let the pieces flutter over the galley's
side.

"Are you aware of what that action means?" Captain Salt was white to
the lips.

"I am, sir."

"It is treason."

"You think so, perhaps. But a Frenchman should best know what is due
to the King of France. Nevertheless, I shall summon the captains to
confirm my action. Will you attend them in my cabin?"

"Thank you; no, sir. I am quite sure that they will support you.
It remains to see what his Majesty will say when I report your
contempt of his orders."

"That is for the future to decide. Meanwhile be good enough to
recollect that I command the squadron from this moment. Should you
choose to volunteer, well and good. If not, my cabin is at your
disposal as soon as the captains have left it."

He bowed and turned away to summon the captains.

They came in haste, and were, of course, unanimous; though it is
difficult to say how far they were influenced by sound argument and
how far by pique and a desire to thwart the Englishman. While they
sat, Captain Salt remained on deck cursing quietly and examining the
approaching enemy with no pleasant stare.

Orders were issued to all the six galleys to attack the fleet.
Four were told off against the merchantmen and commanded to make all
speed to get between them and the Thames; while _L'Heureuse_ herself
and _La Merveille_ (commanded by the Chevalier de Sainte-Croix) were
to attack and take possession of the frigate.

Immediately they began to make all possible haste with sails and
oars. Captain Salt withdrew to the cabin in dudgeon and M. de la
Pailletine took his place. From their benches below the slaves heard
his voice shouting out orders right and left, and at once they had to
catch up their oars and row. The English fleet when first spied was
coming right across their course, and still held on its way when it
perceived the Frenchman's intent. In pursuance of this intent the
four galleys made off with all speed to place themselves between the
merchantmen and the coast, while the Commodore and the Chevalier de
Sainte-Croix bore down on the frigate, straight as an arrow.

And now began a hard time for Tristram and his companions below.
They tugged and sweated, and presently _L'Heureuse_ began to leap
through the water. Above the swish of the long sweeps rose a tumult
of oaths, imprecations, outcries, sobs, as the overseers plied their
whips, not caring where they struck. Overhead they heard the guns
running out, the rolling of shot and trampling of feet, the shouts
and replies of officers and men. They could see nothing of the
frigate for which they were bound, but from the confusion and hurry
expected every moment to feel the shock as the galley's beak drove
into her.


Then for a second or two all the noise ceased.


The reason was this. For some little while the frigate held on
her course for the mouth of the Thames. Not a sail more did she
carry than when she first came in sight. It almost seemed as
if her captain had not seen the enemy sweeping to destroy him.
For thirty-five minutes she held quietly on beside her convoy.
And then the helm was shifted, and she came down straight into the
Frenchman's teeth.

It was a gallant stroke, and a subtle--so subtle that M. de la
Pailletine mistook its meaning and gave a great shout of joy.
He fancied he saw the English delivered into his hand. But his
rejoicing was premature.

To begin with, he perceived the next moment that the frigate, by
hastening the attack, had caught his galley alone. Into this
trap he had been led partly by the excellence of his crew.
Not only was his the fleetest vessel of the six, but he had always
been jealous to choose the strongest _forcats_ to man it.
Moreover, M. de Sainte-Croix had been slow in starting, and by this
time _La Merveille_ was a league or more behind her consort.

Still the Commodore was in no way disturbed. He admitted to his
lieutenant beside him that the frigate was showing desperate
gallantry; but he never doubted for a moment that his galley alone,
with two hundred fighting-men aboard, would be more than a match for
her.

Down came the _Merry Maid_, closer and closer, her red-crossed flag
fluttering bravely at the peak; and on rushed the galley, until the
two were within cannon-shot. M. de la Pailletine gave the order, and
sent a shot to meet her from one of the four guns in the prow.
As the thunder of it died away and the smoke cleared, he waited for
the Englishman's reply. There was none. The frigate held on her
course, silent as death.


_III.--The Frigate._

The two English captains stood on the quarterdeck, side by side,
the tall man and the dwarf. Beyond issuing an order or two, neither
had spoken a word for twenty minutes. Once Captain Barker glanced
over his shoulder to see how the merchantmen were faring, and
calculated that within half an hour their enemies would intercept
them. Then he looked down on his men, who stood ready by the guns,
motionless, with lips set, repressing the fury of battle; and beyond
them to the galley as she came, churning the sea, her oars rising and
falling like the strong wings of a bird.

"My God!" he said softly, "if only Tristram were here to see!"



_IV--The Galleys._

When the frigate failed to answer his salute, M. de la Pailletine
jumped to a fresh conclusion.

"_Mordieu!_" he cried, "here is another English captain who,
like our friend Salt, is weary of carrying his Sovereign's colours.
He doesn't mean to strike a blow. A minute and we shall see his flag
hauled down."

But the minute passed, and another, and yet a third, and the English
flag still flew.

By this time they were within musket-shot. One by one the four guns
had spoken from the galley's prow and still there was no answer.
On the brink of the tragedy there was silence for an instant.
Then a few of the French musketeers seemed to find this intolerable
and fired without receiving the order. Followed a silence again, and
still the _Merry Maid_ came on as if to impale herself on the
galley's beak.

And then, suddenly, when in five minutes the vessels must have
collided, round flew the frigate's wheel. For a minute and a half
she fetched up as if awaking to the consequences of her folly;
shuddered and shook against the wind; and, as her sails filled again,
fetched away on the westerly tack for her life.

For a full two minutes the French were taken aback.

"Fools, fools!" shouted M. de la Pailletine, beside himself with joy.

The order flew for the slaves on the larboard benches to hold water
for a minute and the galley's head came round. Nothing gives more
spirit than a flying enemy. From mouth to mouth ran the whisper that
the English were showing their heels; and in a moment these poor
devils, who owed all their misery to France, were pulling like
madmen. Jeers rose from the deck.

"If Monsieur the Englishman does not strike within two minutes, down
he goes to the bottom."

"The idiot, to expose his stern!"

"On the whole, it is just as well that _La Merveille_ is so far
behind. We shall have all the glory to ourselves--eh, my children?"


On board the frigate Captain Barker said four words only:

"Take the wheel, Jemmy."

Captain Runacles stepped to it and the steersman gave place.

In truth the hunchback, though this was his first acquaintance with a
galley, knew well enough that she would strike for the frigate's
stern as the weakest point. This was precisely what he wished her to
do.

Captain Runacles stood with his hand on the wheel and waited,
glancing back over his shoulder.

Captain Barker stood by the taffrail with one eye upon the galley and
his face turned in profile to his friend. His right hand was lifted.


The Commodore had made all his dispositions. The galley was to
plunge her beak straight into the _Merry Maid's_ stern, and its crew,
after one discharge of cannon to clear the frigate's poop, were to
board at once. The men stood ready with their hatchets and cutlasses
and set up a wild yell as they drove straight for her. From below
the slaves echoed it with a melancholy wail.

On they tore. As they yelled again, _L'Heureuse's_ beak was but
thirty yards from her prey. A few more leaps and it would strike.

"One--two--"

The little man looked back in their faces and smiled.

"Three--four--five--"

He dropped his hand. Quick as lightning Captain Jerry spun the wheel
round. The stern swung sharply off, her sea-way gauged to a nicety.

The next moment the galley flew past. Her beak, missing the stern,
rushed on, tearing great splinters out of the _Merry Maid's_ flank.
Her starboard oars snapped like matchwood, hurling the slaves
backwards on their benches and killing a dozen on the spot. Then she
brought up, helplessly disabled, right under the frigate's side.

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