The admiral’s face was naturally vigorous and cheerful, but, as he
looked at Dyck Calhoun, a steely hardness came into it, and gave a
cynical twist to the lips. He was a short man, and spare, but his
bearing had dignity and every motion significance.
He had had his high moment with the French admiral, had given his
commands to the fleet and had arranged the disposition of the captured
French ships. He was in good spirits, and the wreckage in the fleet
seemed not to shake his nerve, for he had lost in men far less than the
enemy, and had captured many ships--a good day’s work, due finally to
the man in sailor’s clothes standing there with Captain Ivy. The admiral
took in the dress of Calhoun at a glance--the trousers of blue cloth,
the sheath-knife belt, the stockings of white silk, the white shirt with
the horizontal stripes, the loose, unstarched, collar, the fine black
silk handkerchief at the throat, the waistcoat of red kerseymere, the
shoes like dancing-pumps, and the short, round blue jacket, with the
flat gold buttons--a seaman complete. He smiled broadly; he liked this
mutineer and ex-convict.
“Captain Calhoun, eh!” he remarked mockingly, and bowed satirically.
“Well, you’ve played a strong game, and you’ve plunged us into great
difficulty.”
Dyck did not lose his opportunity. “Happily, I’ve done what I planned
to do when we left the Thames, admiral,” he said. “We came to get the
chance of doing what, by favour of fate, we have accomplished. Now,
sir, as I’m under arrest, and the ship which I controlled has done good
service, may I beg that the Ariadne’s personnel shall have amnesty,
and that I alone be made to pay--if that must be--for the mutiny at the
Nore.”
The admiral nodded. “We know of your breaking away from the mutinous
fleet, and of their firing on you as you passed, and that is in your
favour. I can also say this: that bringing the ship here was masterly
work, for I understand there were no officers on the Ariadne. She always
had the reputation of being one of the best-trained ships in the navy,
and she has splendidly upheld that reputation. How did you manage it,
Mr. Calhoun?”
Dyck briefly told how the lieutenants were made, and how he himself had
been enormously indebted to Greenock, the master of the ship, and all
the subordinate officers.
The admiral smiled sourly. “I have little power until I get instructions
from the Admiralty, and that will take some time. Meanwhile, the Ariadne
shall go on as she is, and as if she were--and had been from the first,
a member of my own squadron.”
Dyck bowed, explained what reforms he had created in the food and
provisions of the Ariadne, and expressed a hope that nothing should be
altered. He said the ship had proved herself, chiefly because of his
reforms.
“Besides, she’s been badly hammered. She’s got great numbers of wounded
and dead, and for many a day the men will be busy with repairs.”
“For a man without naval experience, for a mutineer, an ex-convict and a
usurper, you’ve done quite well, Mr. Calhoun; but my instructions were,
if I captured your ship, and you fell into my hands, to try you, and
hang you.”
At this point Captain Ivy intervened.
“Sir,” he said, “the instructions you received were general. They could
not anticipate the special service which the Ariadne has rendered to the
king’s fleet. I have known Mr. Calhoun; I have visited at his father’s
house; I was with him on his journey to Dublin, which was the beginning
of his bad luck. I would beg of you, sir, to give Mr. Calhoun his parole
on sea and land until word comes from the Admiralty as to what, in the
circumstances, his fate shall be.”
“To be kept on the Beatitude on parole!” exclaimed the admiral.
“Land or sea, Captain Ivy said. I’m as well-born as any man in the
king’s fleet,” declared Dyck. “I’ve as clean a record as any officer in
his majesty’s navy, save for the dark fact that I was put in prison
for killing a man; and I will say here, in the secrecy of an admiral’s
cabin, that the man I killed--or was supposed to kill--was a traitor. If
I did kill him, he deserved death by whatever hand it came. I care not
what you do with me”--his hands clenched, his shoulders drew up, his
eyes blackened with the dark fire of his soul--“whether you put me on
parole, or try me by court-martial, or hang me from the yard-arm. I’ve
done a piece of work of which I’m not ashamed. I’ve brought a mutinous
ship out of mutiny, sailed her down the seas for many weeks, disciplined
her, drilled her, trained her, fought her; helped to give the admiral of
the West Indian squadron his victory. I enlisted; I was a quota man. I
became a common sailor--I and my servant and friend, Michael Clones. I
shared the feelings of the sailors who mutinied. I wrote petitions and
appeals for them. I mutinied with them. Then at last, having been made
leader of the ship, with the captain and the lieutenants sent safely
ashore, and disagreeing with the policy of the Delegates in not
accepting the terms offered, I brought the ship out, commanding it from
the captain’s cabin, and have so continued until to-day. If I’m put
ashore at Jamaica, I’ll keep my parole; if I stay a prisoner here, I’ll
keep my parole. If I’ve done you service, admiral, be sure of this, it
was done with clear intent. My object was to save the men who, having
mutinied and fled from Admiralty control, are subject to capital
punishment.”
“Your thinking came late. You should have thought before you mutinied,”
was the sharp reply.
“As a common sailor I acted on my conscience, and what we asked for the
Admiralty has granted. Only by mutiny did the Admiralty yield to our
demands. What I did I would do again! We took our risks in the Thames
against the guns that were levelled at us; we’ve taken our risks down
here against the French to help save your squadron, and we’ve done it.
The men have done it, because they’ve been loyal to the flag, and from
first to last set to make the Admiralty and the people know they have
rights which must be cherished. If all your men were as faithful to the
Crown as are the men on the Ariadne, then they deserve well of the King.
But will you put for me on paper the written word that every man now
aboard the Ariadne shall be held guiltless in the eyes of the admiral
of this fleet; that the present officers shall remain officers, that the
reforms I have made shall become permanent? For myself, I care not; but
for the men who have fought under me, I want their amnesty. And I want
Michael Clones to be kept with me, and Greenock, the master, and Ferens,
the purser, to be kept where they are. Admiral, I think you know my
demands are just. Over there on the Ariadne are a hundred and fifty
wounded at least, and fifty have been killed. Let the living not
suffer.”
“You want it all on the nail, don’t you?”
“I want it at this moment when the men who have fought under me have
helped to win your battle, sir.” There was something so set in Dyck’s
voice that the admiral had a sudden revulsion against him, yet, after a
moment of thought, he made a sign to Captain Ivy. Then he dictated the
terms which Dyck had asked, except as to the reforms he had made, which
was not in his power to do, save for the present.
When the document had been signed by the admiral, Dyck read the contents
aloud. It embodied nearly all he had asked.
“Now I ask permission for one more thing only, sir--for the new captain
of the Ariadne to go with me to her, and there I will read this paper
to the crew. I will give a copy of it to the new captain, whoever he may
be.”
The admiral stood for a moment in thought. Then he said:
“Ivy, I transfer you to the Ariadne. It’s better that some one who
understands, as you do, should be in control after Calhoun has gone.
Go with him now, and have your belongings sent to you. I appoint you
temporary captain of the Ariadne, because I think no one could deal
with the situation there so wisely. Ivy, every ship in the squadron must
treat the Ariadne respectfully. Within two days, Mr. Calhoun, you shall
be landed at Jamaica, there to await the Admiralty decree. I will say
this: that as the sure victory of our fleet has come through you, you
shall not suffer in my report. Fighting is not an easy trade, and to
fight according to the rules is a very hard trade. Let me ask you to
conduct yourself as a prisoner of war on parole.”