A CHANGE OF MASTERS
Louis was not a little astonished at the ready yielding of Mr. Frinks
to the new order of things on board of the Maud, for he had expected
serious opposition from him, and that he would carry it even to
fighting for Scoble. If he was disposed to resist the new masters
of the vessel, probably the physique of Captain Ringgold was not
encouraging to him. The shipmaster took the wheel, and immediately gave
his whole attention to the management of the vessel.
“I suppose you have no further use for me on deck,” said Mr. Frinks,
after he had given up the wheel. “I don’t know what course you intend
to take, but, with your permission, I will go down into the cabin.”
“I should be very sorry to incommode so amiable a gentleman, but you
will oblige me by remaining on deck,” replied the captain. “You are
acquainted with the Maud, and I am not; I may need your counsel and
assistance.”
“I did not suppose you would require anything of such a lubber as I
am,” replied the mate.
“On the contrary, I must ask you to continue to discharge the duties of
mate. It is possible that the men forward may not be inclined to obey
me; and I should prefer to escape the necessity of disciplining them
into obedience, though I feel perfectly confident that I can do it.”
“As I said, Captain Ringgold, it makes no difference to me who is
captain of the Maud. I am a soldier of fortune; I have no home on the
wide earth, no place to lay my head; and I had as lief go one way as
another. I am entirely at your service, and ready to obey orders in all
matters relating to the schooner.”
“All right, Mr. Frinks, and we will be friends.”
“I shall serve you faithfully as long as I remain on the deck of the
Maud; and I think you will have no trouble whatever with the men
forward, especially if you issue your orders through me.”
“Did it occur to you, Mr. Frinks, while you were at the wheel, that
this vessel is not making above two knots an hour?” asked the captain.
“I don’t think she is doing as much as that, Captain,” replied the
mate, laughing. “When she has a leading wind she does very well; but on
the wind she is not good for much, especially when she is reefed down
as she is now.”
“It seems to me that you chose a very bad time to carry out your little
scheme, for you could not help seeing that a north-easter was coming
up.”
“The fact is, as I suggested before, that we got more than we bargained
for when you and that youngster you call Flix came on board. We could
easily have taken care of Mr. Belgrave and his amiable mother, and
anchored under a lee; but with so many of you it was not prudent to
remain too near the shore.”
“Precisely so.”
“I thought I had taken good care of you when I put the hatches on
which confined your peregrinations to the lower hold. I don’t exactly
understand yet how you happened to be in the cabin.”
“Louis Belgrave can explain that to you in full when you have time to
listen to him, for he took the liberty to take off the hatches and
let us both out like a Christian as he is. But, Mr. Frinks, I am not
disposed to keep on this tack any longer, for we are getting it worse
and worse every minute.”
“You have the wheel, and all hands will obey your orders, so that you
can go where you please, Captain,” replied Frinks.
“Ready about!” shouted Captain Ringgold. “Stand by the jib-sheet!”
The mate went forward and placed the hands at the jib-sheet. The
helmsman put the wheel over, and the dull sailer threw her head slowly
up into the wind, leaping and rolling and bouncing about like a log.
But she came about after a while, and her jib began to draw on the
starboard tack. The mainsail went over on the traveller, and the men
forward attended to the fore-sheet.
Captain Ringgold laid a course due west, which indicated that he
intended to return to the bay, or some point near it, from which the
vessel had departed in the forenoon.
“Ease off the jib-sheet!” shouted the new captain.
“Ease off the jib-sheet!” repeated the mate, to assure the master that
his order was understood; and it was promptly obeyed.
“Now ease off the fore-sheets!” continued the captain.
Frinks could see from the course of the schooner what was required; and
if he had sworn allegiance to the present commander of the craft, he
could not have discharged his duty more promptly and faithfully.
“Send a couple of hands aft!” called the captain; and the mate came
himself with one of the hands. “Ease off the main-sheet!”
After the change in the course, the Maud took the wind on the starboard
quarter, and behaved much better than before, though she still pitched
and rolled violently in the heavy sea. With two reefs in her principal
sails, and with the stormy sea, her progress through the water was
anything but rapid. The mate had gone forward, and he was now talking
with the two sailors on the forecastle, which was no longer washed by
the head sea.
“Flix, you are not much of a sailor, I dare say,” said Captain
Ringgold, calling the Milesian to him.
“Not a bit of it, sir; I don’t know the fore to’ gallant bobstay from
main top-mast hatchway,” replied Felix.
“Then your education has been neglected. I want you to go forward and
ascertain what the mate and the hands are talking about; for they may
be hatching up treason, and it is well to be on the lookout, though I
don’t think the mate means mischief,” continued the captain.
“It don’t take much of a sailor to do the like o’ that,” replied Felix,
as he started to go forward, clinging to the rail to enable him to
keep on his feet.
“Do it in a mild and gentlemanly way, and don’t let the mate understand
that you are listening to them,” added the captain.
Felix sauntered as leisurely forward as the motion of the schooner
would permit, keeping his gaze fixed on the shore, which was Rockaway
Beach, distant about two miles. He took a seat on the windlass, where
he could hear all that was said, if anything was said, and continued
to gaze at whatever was to be seen. Of course his presence prevented
the mate and the men from hatching up any treason; and this was the
principal object of the new commander in sending him there.
“I don’t know where you are going, Captain Ringgold; but it is all
right, wherever you go,” said Louis, who was clinging to the after part
of the cabin skylight for support.
“We are bound to the Great Kills, which is the bay from which we sailed
this forenoon,” replied the captain. “That is just about twenty miles
from where we are. The Maud is not making more than six knots an hour,
and we can’t make the Kills till after eight o’clock. It will be low
tide then and very dark in this weather; and I am not a pilot in the
inside waters. It is rather unfortunate; but there is no help for it.
We may have to stay there all night; and Uncle Moses will have fits
over your absence.”
“I thought you would go directly up to New York, where we could hand
Scoble over to the police at once,” added Louis.
“That is just what I would do if it were possible; but the wind is now
blowing a smart gale. It is likely to be a great deal worse before it
is any better. You see, after we made The Narrows, it would be a dead
beat to windward for about ten miles, and we never could do it in the
world in this old tub.”
“I understand now.”
“It occurs to me, Louis, that it is about suppertime; and we had better
attend to that matter before dark,” suggested Captain Ringgold.
“I see that Bickling is in the galley; I have been keeping an eye on
him, for I did not know but he might take it into his head to let
Scoble out of his prison, and take off his bracelets,” replied Louis.
“I will tell him to get supper at once;” and he made his way to the
galley.
The cook was ready to attend to his duties, and he promised to “’ave
some ’am and heggs” ready in a very short time. Louis went below, and
after listening at the door of Scoble’s prison, hearing nothing to
excite alarm, he knocked at the door of his mother’s room.
“I am so glad to see you!” exclaimed Mrs. Belgrave when she saw her
son. “Have you been hurt?”
“No, mother; no one has been hurt, and we are in full possession of the
vessel, which is now headed back to the place from which we started
this forenoon,” replied Louis, after his mother had embraced him. “We
are all right now, and you have nothing whatever to fear. We may have
to stay all night on board of the vessel; but you can sleep very well
in your berth, and some of us will keep watch all night.”
“I do hope we shall get home without any more trouble. I shall not
sleep a wink on board of this vessel, and I wish there was some way to
get ashore,” added Mrs. Belgrave.
“Perhaps there will be; we will see when we get into the bay, where we
shall have smooth water. But how do you feel, mother?”
“Very well indeed. I should like a cup of tea and some toast, if I
could get them.”
“We are going to have supper pretty soon, and I want you to eat all you
can, for it will do you good.”
Bickling was already setting the table in the cabin, and putting on the
“fiddles,” which the motion of the vessel rendered necessary, for the
dishes would hardly have stayed on the table. In less than half an hour
the meal was ready, with tea and toast in addition to the heavier fare
the cook had promised to provide. Louis seated his mother, and then
went on deck to call Captain Ringgold, who summoned the mate to take
the helm, though Felix was left to keep watch of him and the men. The
Milesian stationed himself at the companion-way, where he could call
the captain and Louis if anything went wrong; and he kept one hand on
the revolver in his right hip-pocket, perhaps rather anxious for an
opportunity to use it.
Mrs. Belgrave had so far recovered her appetite that she could eat
ham and eggs as well as toast, and made a very satisfactory meal. The
violent emotion to which she had been subjected seemed to have been a
panacea for her sea-sickness. The captain praised the ham, and praised
the cooking, very much to the satisfaction of Bickling, and testified
more fully to his pleasure by making a very hearty meal. He returned to
the deck a happy man in his present condition, and sent the mate down
for his supper. Louis remained below while Frinks and Felix ate their
rations, and they imitated the example of the captain in doing ample
justice to the fare.
Louis gave the cook two ten-dollar pieces, and asked him to feed the
men before the mast as well as he had those in the cabin; but the
difficult business of the hour was to feed Captain Scoble, for the
young millionaire would not permit him to be deprived of his supper as
the captain suggested.
The shipmaster attended to this duty himself after the mate had
returned to the deck. The sailors were invited to the cabin one at a
time for their supper, and a fresh supply of ham and eggs had been
provided by the cook. The captain took off the handcuffs of Scoble,
who had become quite mild and tractable under the discipline of
confinement, and he ate his supper as though he enjoyed it. In fact,
everything on board seemed to be pleasant.
It was half-past eight in the evening when the Maud ran into the bay.
It was very dark; and as soon as Captain Ringgold got the schooner
under a lee, the anchor was let go, and the voyage was at an end.