THE CONFERENCE IN THE STATEROOM
Louis felt that he had done no more than his duty in telling his mother
that they were in the power and at the mercy of the enemy; and he
regarded John Scoble as an enemy in the worst sense of the word. He was
not disposed to give way to despondency, though the prospect before him
and his mother was anything but assuring. His two male friends were
prisoners in the hold, and until he could deliver them he could hardly
hope to accomplish anything for the party, of which the circumstances
appeared to have made him the leader.
Scoble did not yet show himself; for he seemed to be satisfied that he
had won a complete victory in the capture of his wife and her son, and
was willing to let them recover from their astonishment before he took
a second step. What the next step would be was a trying question to
Louis, and he wished to make himself ready, if he could, to meet it. He
could hardly believe that the conspirator would take Captain Ringgold
and Felix to England with him; and he was anxious to free them before
any other disposition was made of them, for he needed their aid.
Louis was not afraid of Scoble; all he really feared was that his
mother might grow weak in the battle with the enemy. He felt that he
must strengthen her, and if possible increase her power of resistance
to the insidious magnetism of her former husband. There could be no
better time than while she lay in her berth recovering from the effect
of her sea-sickness, and he might not have another opportunity to
converse with her. He might be defeated in any enterprise in which he
engaged, and then be a prisoner in the hold with his friends from the
Park.
“I suppose I am to blame for this misfortune, mother,” said Louis, as
he bent over her, and spoke in a low tone, fearful that Scoble might be
within hearing distance of them.
“I do not think you are to blame, my son, for you could not possibly
have known that this Fobbington was an agent of Scoble,” replied the
poor woman, removing her hands from her face and trying to smile upon
her boy to assure him she did not blame him.
“Of course I did not intend to get you into this trouble, and I had no
possible reason for supposing that Frinks, for this is his real name,
was in the service of Scoble. He heard me talking to the professor, and
spoke to me. I had not heard from the jockey for so long that I had
almost forgotten he ever existed. Besides, Frinks is a scholar, and I
took him for a gentleman, as his manners indicated that he was.”
“I do not blame you in the least degree, my dear boy,” she added,
taking his hand and tenderly pressing it. “We must all have our light
afflictions in this world, and this is one of ours; and I trust the
Lord will give us strength to bear up under whatever trials are before
us.”
“That’s it precisely, dear mother,” said Louis, encouraged by the view
of the situation she appeared to be taking. “You must be as firm as the
immovable rocks on which the mountain rests, with no change or shadow
of turning. It is for your salvation in this world and the next, as
well as mine, that you are to battle, and any shrinking may be the ruin
of us both. For my sake, as well as for your own, do not yield a hair
to this villain, however softly and smoothly he may address you.”
“I will not, Louis!” she exclaimed in a louder voice than it was
prudent to speak.
In the face of danger he had never seen her so strong and determined,
and he felt more hopeful of the situation. It was not the annoyance,
not the suffering, that might be in store for them, which troubled
the young millionaire; it was the fear that his hitherto nervous and
timid parent would yield to the fascinations of Scoble, and renew her
matrimonial relations with him.
If his mother would only be firm and resolute in her purpose never
again to join her existence to that of the man who had kidnapped them,
Louis cared little for anything else. He could defend himself and her
from violence if any were attempted; and he was better prepared for
such an event than his mother suspected; and certainly his enemies were
equally ignorant of his resources in this direction.
Mrs. Belgrave was recovering from her sickness, though it was still
prudent for her to remain in her berth; and Louis found her in a
vastly better condition, morally and mentally, than he had dared to
hope for. He had more to say to her; but he was afraid Scoble might be
listening to the conversation, and he went out into the cabin to survey
his surroundings. When he felt sure of his mother’s strength of mind in
her trying situation, he would be ready to do something for the release
of his companions.
He looked about the cabin, and examined every one of the dozen berths
it contained, and went into the other stateroom; but Scoble was nowhere
to be seen. As he was not near his mother he did not care to look for
him any farther. He returned to his mother’s room. Though the motion of
the vessel became more and more uneasy, the sick lady had ceased to be
affected by it.
Louis had been out in the Blanche enough to learn something about the
moods of the ocean, and had once been caught in a smart gale; and it
seemed to him that the Maud was running into a storm. He had never been
sea-sick himself, and he believed he should not be affected in that
way, whatever the weather.
“I am afraid we are going to have bad weather, mother; for the vessel
pitches and rolls more and more every minute,” said Louis, as he seated
himself at the side of her berth.
“I don’t think I shall be sick any more; after I once get better, I
don’t have any more trouble,” she replied; and Louis was astonished to
see how self-possessed and even cheerful she was.
There are many women who are timid and nervous under ordinary
circumstances, and given to borrowing trouble, who become firm,
patient, and self-commanding in the presence of great trials, who are
resolute in the face of danger and in the midst of affliction; and Mrs.
Belgrave was demonstrating that she was one of them.
“I hope you will get over it now, for I am afraid you will have other
and more serious trials to encounter,” added her son. “I am going to be
frank and candid with you, my dear mother, in this terrible trial.”
“I hope you are always so, my son.”
“No, mother, I have not always been so; for you are nervous and timid,
and I have tried to save you from all mental suffering. I have not
told you that I met Scoble face to face nearly a month ago, and that I
struck him down with a club, so that he fell senseless at my feet.”
“You meant kindly to me, Louis; but I am not sure that you did the best
thing in concealing the truth from me,” she replied.
“Mr. Woolridge and Uncle Moses thought I did; but we will not talk
about that now. It was the first time we went out in the Blanche. I
will tell you the whole story now,” said Louis; and he proceeded to do
so.
“But is this the same vessel?” asked Mrs. Belgrave. “It does not look
like her; that one was black.”
“Her captain and owner has evidently taken her to some small place
to the southward, and painted her white; but it is the same vessel.
Now, mother, the only thing of which I have any decided dread in this
adventure is that you will permit Scoble to influence you to the extent
of restoring former relations between you. That would be the worst
calamity that could happen to both of us.”
“You need not have the slightest fear of me, Louis,” replied Mrs.
Belgrave very earnestly. “I know I have been weak and faltering, and I
have given you reason to distrust my firmness; but Heaven will give me
strength this time to be true to you and to myself;” and she drew him
towards her and kissed him on his brow.
“I am satisfied, mother; and as long as you continue resolute in your
present purpose, I shall not care what happens to me.”
“But I shall care what happens to you, my son,” she interposed. “I hope
you will not rashly undertake any wild scheme; I trust you will not try
to be a knight-errant.”
“We are in a bad scrape, and you surely do not expect me to fold my
arms and do nothing, do you, mother?” demanded Louis, with something
like indignation in his tones, as nearly like it as it could be in
speaking to his mother.
“What can you do, Louis?”
“For one thing I can make an attempt to release Captain Ringgold and
Felix from their dungeon in the hold of the schooner. They are my
friends, and they are having the worst of it.”
“Perhaps Scoble will release them if you ask him to do so.”
“I shall not ask him. I know better than to do that,” replied Louis
decidedly, as he heard a tremendous racket in the cabin, with a voice
speaking in a loud tone.
Louis hastened out into the cabin to ascertain the cause of the
disturbance. The first person he saw was Frinks, who was standing near
the pantry door, pounding with his fist upon the panels near him.
“It is blowing half a gale, and it looks as though we were going to
have a tough north-easter,” shouted he in a loud tone, as Louis stopped
at the stateroom door.
“Did you speak to me, Mr. Frinks? If you did, I beg to suggest that I
am not deaf,” said the passenger when he saw the mate.
“No; I did not speak to you, for you are nothing but a landlubber,”
replied the mate, who did not seem to be in as good humor as when he
was on deck. “Where is the captain? He is the man I want to see just
now, before the blow takes the masts out of the vessel. Where is he?”
“I have no idea where he is, and I can’t say that I care. I saw him
when I first came into the cabin, but not since.”
The mate cared more about the matter, and, crossing to the pantry, he
pounded on the door of it loud enough to wake the dead, if any had been
within hearing distance.
“Below there! Captain Scoble!” yelled the mate at the top of his lungs.
“In the cabin!” replied a voice, which Louis recognized as that of
Captain Scoble; and it appeared to come from the bowels of the vessel,
forward of the cabin. “What’s the row now?”
“Row enough!” replied Frinks, entering the pantry, and trying the door
leading to the steerage, which was fastened. “You had better show
yourself on deck, Captain Scoble, if you don’t want the masts taken out
of the schooner.”
The mate stepped back, and the captain emerged from the door inside the
pantry. He followed Frinks out into the cabin, and looked as though he
was in no better humor than the second in command.
“I ordered you not to come into the cabin till I told you to do so,”
said the captain, who had the expression on his face with which Louis
was most familiar, for he was angry with the mate.
“But you did not order me to take in sail if it came on to blow a
hurricane,” answered Frinks, as smartly as his superior had spoken.
“I thought you had sense enough to do that without any orders,” growled
Scoble.
“It can’t be done now without all hands, including the captain and
cook,” added Frinks.
“I have business below, and I can’t go on deck at present,” said Scoble.
“You will have business below in Davy Jones’s locker if you don’t
attend to the working of the vessel.”
“No more jaw! Go on deck and take in the foresail!” continued the
captain beginning to be furious.
“That will not prevent the mainmast from being taken out of her, for
you know both sticks are half rotten,” returned the mate.
Mr. Frinks evidently believed he was quite as good a man as Scoble.