unconscious patronage, "You'll see how it is yourself, old man, when it
comes your turn. You have to make a square deal, of course."
"Yes, I s'pose so," assented the mate humbly. "I hope she won't tell
Mrs. Fairhew."
"Oh, we told her together," Jack stated cheerfully. "Katrine thought
we'd better. I'm glad I did, too; for she's written home about meeting
us, and it's sure to get round to Uncle Randolph sooner or later."
"How did she take it?"
"Oh, do you know," returned Jack, laughing at the remembrance of his
talk with Mrs. Fairhew, "I think she was more bothered that she hadn't
guessed it than she was shocked at us. She couldn't help letting me see
that she thought it an awfully good joke on Uncle Randolph. She said she
should write to him to-day and remind him that she'd often told him he
tried to keep me in leading strings. She said she did have a suspicion
from your jocoseness when we first came over that there was some joke
about our coming, but we parried her questions so well she forgot all
about it. She said nobody could have dreamed of anything so
preposterous, so of course she didn't guess it."
"Didn't she say it was on account of her age she didn't see through us?"
queried Jerry, with a grin.
"By Jove, she did; and then turned it off by saying she never supposed
a Marchfield would be engaged to a pirate. She says, though, that I've
got to cut back at once. She won't have me going about with Katrine in a
stolen yacht."
"It's time to start anyway. It'll be getting late by the time we're
across, and if she's written home, the sooner the Merle is in Boston
harbor the better. I suppose we can get off in a week?"
"We go to-morrow," Jack answered calmly.
"To-morrow! Great Scott! What are we sitting here for? There are oceans
of things to be done."
"Of course we can get stores at Plymouth if we need to, and I've already
ordered a lot of things to come out to-night. We have to get Wrenmarsh
safe, of course, and that'll take some time."
"He's a windfall," commented Jerry.
"And like most windfalls, not entirely sound? Tell Gonzague to fix up
the stateroom Bardale had, the one next mine. I must get ashore now;
she'll be waiting. You're to come to dinner."
"I'll come fast enough. Oh, you bully old pirate, I'm awfully glad for
you!"
[Illustration: Decoration]
Chapter Fifteen
IN THE CATTEWATER
The Merle was at anchor off Plymouth.
By the round brass ship's clock placed over the passageway door, in the
saloon, Jerry could see that it was a little after ten o'clock. The
yacht had come to anchor in the small hours, and the gentlemen had in
consequence slept late. The dull light of an English morning in
September came through the big skylight, and showed the captain, the
mate, and Mr. Wrenmarsh lingering over their breakfast.
"On my word, Mr. Wrenmarsh," said Tab, "we'll be sorry to lose you.
You've been aboard so long and your"--he almost blurted out
"eccentricities," but fortunately had the unusual luck to stop in time
to substitute a better word--"your--er--conversation has such--er--has
been so very entertaining, that is, that we're sure to miss you."
"Ah, well," said the collector, "I'm in hopes that you've improved so
much by contact with me that you'll be able to entertain each other."
"Wouldn't you like to take passage across?" suggested Jack.
"Your rates are too high," the other rejoined grimly. "Gonzague, _'n'
altro bicchier' d' aqua fresca_."
The old steward, who had come in while Jerry was speaking, served the
archæologist with the ready alacrity which marked all he did, and then
departed with a handful of dishes.
"Why do you always speak to Gonzague in Italian?" inquired Jerry. "You
said yesterday that you always had a reason for everything you do."
"Oh," the guest returned, fixing his eyes not on the questioner but on
the ceiling above him, "I speak to him in Italian because he understands
it."
"But he isn't an Italian," Tab objected.
"No, but then I'm not either."
"But he understands English, French, and Spanish, for the matter of
that," Jerry persisted.
Whenever Wrenmarsh began to talk in this whimsical fashion, Taberman had
always a teasing desire to push him into a corner.
"Ah, but, my dear fellow," Wrenmarsh replied, unaccountably addressing
Jack, and making his words seem more distraught by one of his most
earnest, almost burning glances, "I do not speak Spanish, you see."
"Then why not French or English?"
"Because they're so different," returned the collector.
"Why, what rot!" Jerry burst out rudely; then as usual he added
apologetically, "I beg your pardon, but I'm afraid I don't follow you."
"Oh, no; I suppose not," Mr. Wrenmarsh rejoined with much sweetness. He
rose, and with an entire change of manner, added briskly, "Well, I'm
ready. As I wish to catch the eleven thirty-four for London, we must
make haste; otherwise I shouldn't have time to take Mr. Castleport to
the bank, and settle my financial obligations. Can we get ashore?"
"Yes," answered Jack, rising also. "The cutter's ready, and your boxes
are on board. By the by, you said you'd tell me how you dodge--pardon
the word, we use it on the other side--the customs."
"Simplest thing in the world," returned Wrenmarsh, lighting a cigarette.
"Address my boxes to a good friend of mine in the British Museum. They
go through the customhouse as things for the museum, you know."
"Does your friend do that sort of thing as a business?" inquired Jerry
with a laugh. "I wish you'd give me his name, so I could come that
game."
"His name is Gordon Wrenmarsh," said the collector quietly; "but his
charges are high. Shall we go?"
"Yes," Jack responded. "It is high time we were off. I'm not anxious to
speed the parting guest, but a good send-off means an early start."
Jerry left his place, and the three went on deck. The cutter, already
manned, was by the steps. The bleak English air struck chill and raw to
these men fresh from the warm sunshine of the Mediterranean. The harbor
and sound, crowded with shipping as they were, seemed flat and dull; the
Citadel, the Battery, the various docks and buildings were depressing. A
great volume of dun coal-smoke overhanging the "Three Towns," from the
Hamoaze to Sutton Pool, added to the general air of gloom. To cap all
this, the fog was coming in from seaward, and already its ghostly
echelons had floated past the north end of Drake Island. As the three
men came on deck the cutter was bobbing up and down in the wash of the
ferry which plies to and fro across the Cattewater, and which had just
gone heavily past.
"Dear England!" ejaculated Mr. Wrenmarsh fervently under his breath in
the face of all this. Then turning to Taberman, "You're not coming
ashore with us?"
Jerry shook his bare head, and gave an exaggerated shiver for reply.
"No?" the collector said. "Well, we'll say good-by here, then. Lucky we
met, wasn't it? Those combinations--they make the world go round; stop
it sometimes. Good-by. Pity, great pity, you weren't at Oxford, Mr.
Taberman. It would have done you good, made a man of you."
"Not if Harvard's failed to," retorted Jerry loyally. "Good-by, and good
luck. Hope we'll meet again some day."
They shook hands, and Mr. Wrenmarsh and Jack descended to the waiting
cutter.
"_Adio, Signor'_," called out old Gonzague, who was standing by the
main-rigging.
"_A riverderla forse_" returned the collector from the stern-sheets of
the cutter.
"_Il mondo è piccolo, Signor'. Spero_," answered the Provençal.
"Oars!" cried Jack. "Bear away,--let fall,--ready,--pull." And the
cutter bore away the strange collector toward the shore of his adopted
country.
Jerry watched the boat for a moment, his big heart not untouched by a
sympathetic friendliness for the lonely man, whose life seemed to him so
warped and melancholy. He half expected Wrenmarsh to look back to nod or
to wave his hand, but the collector's eyes were turned steadily to the
shore. It was chill on deck, and Tab went below.
Gonzague was just taking away the last of the breakfast things. He set
his tray on the table, and approached the mate deferentially.
"Mistaire Taberman, sair," he said, putting his hand in his pocket, and
drawing out a small square blue box and a note, "Mistaire Wrainmairsh he
geeve me de box and de lettair--also a crown in extrair dat I geeve dem
to you when he have leef."
"Eh? what?" asked Jerry. "Oh, I see. Thank you."
He sat down on the port transom, and opened the box. It contained a
small object carefully wrapped in tissue paper. He unfolded the paper,
and between his fingers a gold finger-ring slipped on to the green
corduroy cushion of the transom.
"Great Scott!" he ejaculated. Then he picked it up and examined it
carefully.
In a thin band of red gold was set a carnelian of beautiful tone, the
color of a red hyacinth blossom. The stone was oval, cut with an
exquisite design in intaglio. It represented a god holding a trident in
his left hand, and on his right a small winged figure. His right foot
rested on a stone, and he was gazing at the figure he held. The gem was
inscribed with the Greek letters [Greek: LIL].
Jerry tore open the note. It read as follows:--
Really, my dear fellow, had you viewed me more as a friend and less
as a curiosity, you might have found it to your advantage. But to
the point. I hope you will wear the ring in memory of our little
escapade. The figure represents Poseidon, holding a victoriole in
his hand; and is, as the letters signify, designed to commemorate
the naval victory of Lilybæum (Capo Boao), in which some of the
original wearer's ancestors (more likely pretended than real) were
evidently supposed to have taken part. Of course the wearer, though
not the cutter, was a Roman; but you won't mind that. Not a bit. So
no one gets hurt--your arm, you know--in my behalf without cause to
remember the fact--pleasantly. The stone is by no means the best
that I obtained, but it seemed appropriate. Poseidon with a
victoriole--usually an attribute of Zeus Soter (see your
Furtwängler's A. G.)--is rare enough to give the thing value.
With merriment,
WRENMARSH.
"By Jove!" cried Jerry to himself, gloating over the ring, "what a calf
I was to that--that white man! By Gad, though, he was a stunner, and no
mistake!"
He slipped the gold band on his finger. After a time of admiration he
took a book from the shelf, and tried to read; but every minute or two
he stopped to look again at the jewel.
He had not turned many pages when he heard a boat alongside, and a
strange voice hailing.
"Hallo," he thought. "I wonder what that is. It can't be the port
officer; we satisfied him at daybreak."
He tossed aside his book, and went on deck. A shabby jolly-boat was
lying alongside. Jerry noted instantly and with consternation that she
was manned by six men in uniform, in charge of a burly old fellow
liberally adorned with brass buttons and gold braid, who looked to be
every inch a sea-dog. At a second glance Tab decided that these men were
not government employees, such as coast-guards, but belonged to some
sort of a company. With one stunning blow, sudden as the bursting of a
waterspout, the truth flashed over him; at the last, at the very last,
when they had escaped so long that they had practically ceased to think
of the danger, the agent of Lloyd's was upon them.
"Hello there, what d'ye want?" called out the man doing anchor-watch.
"Captain aboard?" demanded the burly officer in charge.
"No," answered the hand suspiciously. "What will you have?"
"I want to see the officer in charge, my spruce little sea-cook,"
returned the big man genially; and the grating of the steps being handy,
without further ceremony he came aboard.
The sailor keeping the deck, although of a slow and plodding
disposition, might have resented the coolness of the stranger, had Jerry
given him time; but with a commendable promptness and a sinking heart
the mate advanced. He told Jack afterward that he felt as if he were
leading a forlorn hope, and had not the remotest idea of what he had
better do or say.
"I am in charge here," he said in a perfectly neutral voice. "What do
you want?"
"You are Captain Castleport?" inquired the big man, giving Jerry a keen
glance not without a suspicion of kindly humor.
He was a fine, strapping creature of perhaps forty-five or fifty, with
fair hair, and a large bushy beard tawny as a lion's mane.
"Captain Castleport is ashore, sir. I am the mate."
"Mr. Taberman, eh?" asked the other. "May I see you in private for a
minute or two, sir? I'm Lloyd's deputy inspector for Plymouth. I've been
hunting about in the fog for you these thirty minutes past. I thought
you were nigh out o' the Cattewater, over toward the Hoe."
"Will you come below?" said Jerry grimly.
Inwardly he groaned for the arrival of Jack. This was a task he felt
himself unable to deal with. Had the emergency called simply for
physical powers or for manual dexterity, the chances were large that he
could rise to the occasion; but in a pass where the demand was for
mental adroitness and nimble wits, Jerry knew the captain to be
infinitely his superior. He determined to devote himself to gaining
time, and to refrain from committing himself until his comrade should
come aboard.
Jerry escorted the burly guest to the cabin without further speech, and
turned to ask him to be seated. The visitor at once drew over his
jovial face like a veil a serious expression, and regarded Taberman
with the greatest gravity. Unbuttoning the top of his serge jacket, he
thrust his hand into an inner pocket as if it were a dip-net, and
brought it up again full of dismally official-looking documents.
"This is bad business, sir," he remarked, eyeing the mate as if to be
sure he was producing a proper impression.
"Eh?" ejaculated Jerry, trying to look like consolidated innocence.
"P'haps you'll be so good's to look these through, sir," the Englishman
went on, proffering his batch of papers.
"Are they for me or the captain?" asked Taberman, fencing to gain time.
"Why, as to that," the official replied, "I expect what they contain's
ekally to your int'rest and 'is."
"Sit down, please," Jerry said, with a confused wave of the hand, which
seemed to invite the visitor to occupy all the seats in the cabin at
once. "You may be right, but I shouldn't want to look any important
papers over until the captain'd seen them."
"Oh, that don't matter," the other said easily, as he settled himself in
a chair. "I don't think you 'ave any cause to mind, sir. You represent
'im aboard."
"Yes," Jerry returned, obstinately determined that nothing should make
him go through the papers without Jack; "but if you're not too much
pressed for time, I'd much rather wait for the captain. He'll be here
presently."
"Why, sir, for the matter o' that, I dunno's I've much to 'urry me this
mornin'; an' I must say I'd rather like a look at 'im. 'E must be a rare
one."
"Then," Jerry said, with infinite relief, "we'll wait till he gets
aboard."
He rang, and Gonzague appeared. The old Provençal stood stroking his
mustache and watching the Englishman furtively out of the corners of his
eyes, as if he appreciated the situation and hoped to have orders to
assist in throwing him overboard. The glance of the bluff Briton at the
same time lighted up in evident anticipation that the appearance of the
steward meant refreshments.
"Gonzague, I'll have a little Scotch and soda. Will you take a glass of
anything, sir?"
"Why, sir, seein' 's I 'ave to wait a bit, I'm not strong agin a finger
or two."
"What will you have?" asked Jerry, enormously relieved to get on ground
so safe as that of playing the host.
"I like red rum 's well 's most, sir," replied the other, his jolly eyes
twinkling. "It's sort o' oilin' to the in'ards."
They were soon served, and Gonzague, on leaving the cabin, placed the
spirits and a siphon in most engaging proximity to the guest. Time
passed in the exchange of more or less nautical chit-chat for half an
hour or so; when, to the great comfort of Jerry, who had been listening
with one ear to the talk of his companion and with the other for the
coming of the captain, Jack's hail sounded outside. Jerry, listening
acutely, heard Castleport pause on deck, and at the companion-way caught
a syllable or two in the unmistakable tones of Gonzague, so that he
apprehended that the captain would come to the interview forewarned.
The captain came briskly into the cabin, his blue pea-jacket beaded with
little globules of moisture from the fog, his hair damp and clinging to
his temples.
"Hallo, Tab," he said. "The fog's as thick as it was the night we
started. Ah!"
The exclamation cleverly conveyed the impression that he perceived the
guest for the first time, and apologized for not being prepared to meet
him.
"Jack, this is Lloyd's deputy inspector, Mr. ----?" Jerry began, and
stopped with an interrogative inflection.
"My name, sir, 's Tom Mainbrace."
"Mr. Thomas Mainbrace," Jerry concluded his presentation. "Mr.
Mainbrace, Captain Castleport."
"Pleased to know ye, cap'n," the Englishman said cheerfully, as Jack
bowed. "Yes, sir; I'm Lloyd's deputy inspector."
"I saw your boat alongside," Jack returned pleasantly. "We haven't any
deputies aboard that need inspecting, though."
"'Aven't ye?" the visitor asked, his eyes twinkling so that the laugh
with which he followed his words seemed a sort of overflow of their
merriment. "I kind o' thought there might be a deputy owner or som'thin'
o' the sort 'ere."
Jack apparently tried to look grave, but ended by grinning in spite of
himself. He put out his hand and laid his fingers on the papers.
"You have business with us?" he asked.
"Yes, sir. The mate 'ere, 'e said 'e 'd rather not begin on it till you
come aboard, sir."
"Quite right," Jack responded quietly. "Shall I read these papers?"
"Yes, if ye'll be so good, sir," Mr. Mainbrace said seriously, and not
without a trace of regret in his jovial, weather-beaten face.
The captain seated himself with deliberation, and began to read; the
Englishman applied himself afresh to his glass, and Taberman watched
closely for a lead. Jerry was not clear what line was to be taken in
this difficult situation, and was keenly anxious to back up the captain
in any way possible. To his surprise Jack began first to smile, then to
grin; from that to chuckle gleefully, and at last he broke out into
full-throated laughter.
"By Jove!" he cried, striking his knee with the hand that held the
papers. "But that is one on Uncle Randolph, and no mistake!"
The deputy inspector looked up with an expression of bewilderment, and
Jerry felt that he was no more enlightened as to what Jack had in mind
than was the guest.
"What is it?" Tab asked.
"Oh, we're run down at last! Think of our being nabbed at the last
moment, when we've done all we wanted to with the yacht!" And he fell to
laughing again, as if being caught red-handed in a pirated yacht were
the merriest jest in the world.
Taberman was still completely bewildered, but he at least perceived that
Jack was bound to carry off the matter with laughter; and by way of
assisting as well as he could, he began also to laugh. He took the
papers, and glanced at them enough to see that one was a letter from
Lloyd's, containing a notification of the Merle's disappearance, with a
description of the yacht and a specification of her captors; the other a
warrant for search and apprehension. He followed Jack's lead, and if his
efforts did not ring as true, he at least made more noise.
"That's rich!" he roared. "Ha! Ha! Ha!"
He thrust the papers back to the captain, who tossed them on the table,
and both together they broke out afresh.
"Excuse our laughing," Jack said, turning to the inspector, who gazed
from one to the other as if he thought they had gone mad; "but really
it's too ripping!"
"Ain't ye the parties?" demanded the official sternly.
"Oh, we're the parties all fast enough; but--Well, now, look here. This
yacht belongs to my uncle, you see."
"Yes, sir," replied the honest Mainbrace, evidently puzzled, as he would
have put it, to make out the other's numbers, but still Britannically
deferential to the nephew of a man who was able to own a yacht such as
the Merle.
"Well, you see, I ran away with her because he wouldn't let me come
across, and he's had no good of her the whole summer. From your papers I
judge he looked for me on the other side six weeks before he notified
you at all. You see how much of the summer that leaves him; and now,
just as I'm starting to carry her back as fast as the wind will take
her, you step in and stop us."
"Why, ye see, sir," began the inspector, evidently endeavoring to
accommodate himself to the new light thrown by the captain on the
situation, "the fact is 'e says 'e wants 'er in a 'urry."
"He won't get her, then," Jack said with a grin. "By the time you've
red-taped her, and charged for her, and negotiated her, and sent her
over with a hired crew, it'll be December at the very earliest--to say
nothing of the twenty or thirty pounds he'll have to pay you and the
cost of the crew you send her over by. It is hard lines for Uncle
Randolph."
"It is so," Jerry agreed, fervently glad to be at last in possession of
the way Jack meant to work.
"I'm really sorry for Uncle Randolph," Jack continued, sobering down.
"But then, he might have trusted me to bring the Merle back."
"Ye ain't takin' it too much to 'eart, are ye, sir?" queried the big
Englishman, with a look so humorous and quizzical that Jerry was seized
by a dreadful suspicion that the twinkling eyes saw through the whole
scheme of bluff.
"Not I," Jack assented blithely; "though of course I'd rather have taken
the yacht home myself. What's the next move? Do you put us in irons, or
hang us to the crosstree-ends?"
"Why, they sent word from Lloyd's," replied Mainbrace, with the
unmistakable grin of a man who regards himself as a humorist, "that the
owner said not to be too 'ard on ye. I expect 't'll be no worse nor
transportation for life." Then he put on a graver and more professional
look, and added, "I'm afraid we'll 'ave to be more serious, sir. Will ye
kindly show me your papers and the log? I suppose you 'ave 'em 'andy."
"Certainly," the captain said, also assuming an official air. "Jerry,
will you give the inspector the papers? I'll get the log."
The examination of the papers was a short matter, and then they took up
the log. It was at once evident that the Englishman had a keen curiosity
to discover what the young men had been doing with the Merle, and that
he was no less eager in his interest in all things nautical. Jerry sat
by in almost open-mouthed admiration to see how the captain took
advantage of both these characteristics. Jack could be most attractive,
and from the start it was evident that he was doing his best to please
Mr. Mainbrace. He explained all the manoeuvres of that memorable night
when the Merle had been spirited away in the fog, while the jolly face
of the deputy inspector became more and more radiant with each new
development of the story. The charts were produced, each detail of
seamanship carefully brought out, and the whole episode lived over
again. Jack warmed to his subject as he went on; Jerry threw in a word
now and then when the captain in his eagerness seemed in danger of
forgetting to mention some detail; the Englishman listened with chuckles
and with laughter which soon came to be devoid of the slightest pretense
of official dignity; and, in a word, the three became as merry and
companionable over the log as if they were all pirates together.
Mainbrace had been a sailor and a mate in his day, and showed the
keenest zest for every nautical experience. There is no surer bond of
comradeship than mutual love of the sea; and despite differences of
race, age, and social position, Jack, Jerry, and the deputy inspector
fraternized over the Merle's log as only sailors can.