ACCORDING TO CONTRACT
When the Blonde had been on the White Pig for a week, in spite of all
the science of Scudamore, ready money of the Admiral, and efforts of the
natives, there began to be signs of a change in the weather. The sea was
as smooth, and the sky as bright, and the land as brown as ever; but the
feel of the air was not the same, and the sounds that came through it
were different. “Rain afore Friday,” said Captain Zeb, “and a blow from
sowwest afore Sunday. 'Twill break up the Blunder, I reckon, my lads.”
With various aspects they looked at him, all holding sweet converse at
the Darling Arms, after the manifold struggles of the day. The eyes of
the younger men were filled with disappointment and anger, as at a sure
seer of evil; the elder, to whom cash was more important, gazed with
anxiety and dismay; while a pair, old enough to be sires of Zebedee,
nodded approval, and looked at one another, expecting to receive, but
too discreet to give, a wink. Then a lively discourse arose and throve
among the younger; and the elders let them hold it, while they talked of
something else.
On the following morning two dialogues were held upon different parts
of Springhaven shore, but each of great import to the beautiful captive
still fast aground in the offing. The first was between Captain Zebedee
Tugwell and Lieutenant Scudamore. The gentle Scuddy, still hoping
against hope, had stuck fast to his charge, upon whose fortunes so much
of his own depended. If he could only succeed in floating and carrying
her into Portsmouth, his mark would be made, his position secured far
quicker than by ten gallant actions; and that which he cared for a
hundredfold, the comfort of his widowed mother, would be advanced and
established. For, upon the valuation of the prizes, a considerable sum
would fall to him, and every farthing of it would be sent to her. Bright
with youthful hope, and trustful in the rising spring of tide, which had
all but released them yesterday, according to his firm belief, he ran
from the Hall through the Admiral's grounds, to meet the boat which
was waiting for him, while he was having breakfast and council with his
chief. Between the Round-house and the old white gate he heard a low
whistle from a clump of shrubs, and turning that way, met Tugwell. With
that prince of fishermen he shook hands, according to the manner of
Springhaven, for he had learned to admire the brave habit of the man,
his strong mind, and frank taciturnity. And Tugwell on his part had
taken a liking to the simple and cheerful young officer, who received
his suggestions, was kind to all hands, and so manfully bore the daily
disappointment.
“Nobody in there?” asked Zeb, with one finger pointing to the
Round-house; “then sit down on this bit of bank, sir, a minute. Less
chance to be shot at by any French ship.”
The bit of bank really was a bit of hollow, where no one could see them
from the beach, or lane, or even from the Round-house. Scudamore, who
understood his man, obeyed; and Tugwell came to his bearings on a clump
of fern before him.
“How much will Government pay the chaps as fetches her out of that snug
little berth? For division to self and partners, how much? For division
to self and family, how much?”
“I have thought about that,” the lieutenant answered, with little
surprise at the question, but much at the secrecy thrown around it; “and
I think it would be very unsafe to count upon getting a penny beyond the
Admiral's terms--double pay for the day that we float her.”
Captain Zebedee shook his head, and the golden sheaf of his Olympian
beard ruffled and crisped, as to an adverse wind.
“Can't a'most believe it,” he replied, with his bright eyes steadily
settled on Scudamore's; “the English country, as I belongs to, can't
quite 'a coom to that yet!”
“I fear that it has indeed,” Blyth answered, very gravely; “at least I
am sure of this, Master Tugwell, that you must not look forward to
any bounty, bonus, or premium, or whatever it is called, from the
Authorities who should provide it. But for myself, and the difference it
will make to me whether we succeed or fail, I shall be happy, and will
give my word, to send you 50 pounds, to be divided at your discretion
among the smacks. I mean, of course, as soon as I get paid.”
Scudamore was frightened by the size of his own promise; for he had
never yet owned 50 pounds in the solid. And then he was scared at the
wholesale loss of so large a sum to his mother.
“Never fear, lad,” honest Tugwell replied, for the young man's face was
fair to read; “we'll not take a farden of thy hard airnings, not a brass
farden, so help me Bob! Gentlefolks has so much call for money, as none
of us know nothing of. And thou hast helped to save all the lot of us
from Frenchies, and been the most forwardest, as I hear tell. But if us
could 'a got 50 pounds out of Government, why so much more for us, and
none the less for they. But a Englishman must do his duty, in reason,
and when 'a don't hurt his self by the same. There's a change in
the weather, as forbids more sport. You shall have the Blunder off
to-morrow, lad. Wouldn't do to be too sudden like.”
“I fear I am very stupid, Master Tugwell. But I don't see how you can
manage it so surely, after labouring nine days all in vain.”
Zebedee hesitated half a moment, betwixt discretion and the pride of
knowledge. Then the latter vanquished and relieved his mind.
“I trust in your honour, sir, of course, to keep me clear. I might have
brought 'e off the Pig, first day, or second to the latest, if it were
sound business. But with winter time coming, and the week's fishing
lost, our duty to our families and this place was to pull 'e on harder,
sir, to pull 'e aground firmer; and with the help of the Lord we have
a-doed it well. We wasn't a-going to kill the goose as laid the golden
eggs. No offence to you, sir; it wasn't you as was the goose.”
Master Tugwell rubbed his pockets with a very pleasant smile, and then
put his elbows on his great square knees, and complacently studied the
lieutenant's smaller mind.
“I can understand how you could do such a thing,” said Scudamore, after
he had rubbed his eyes, and then looked away for fear of laughing, “but
I cannot understand by what power on earth you are enabled to look at me
and tell me this. For nine days you have been paid every night, and paid
pretty well, as you yourself acknowledge, to haul a ship off a shoal;
and all the time you have been hauling her harder upon it!”
“Young man,” replied Tugwell, with just indignation, “a hofficer should
be above such words. But I forgive 'e, and hope the Lord will do the
same, with allowance for youth and ill-convenience. I might 'a knowed no
better, at your age and training.”
“But what were you paid for, just answer me that, unless it was to pull
the Blonde off the sand-bank? And how can you pretend that you have done
an honest thing by pulling her further upon the bank?”
“I won't ask 'e, sir, to beg my pardon for saying what never man said
to me, without reading the words of the contraction;” Zeb pulled out
a paper from his hat, and spread it, and laid a stone at every corner;
“this contraction was signed by yourself and Squire Darling, for and on
behalf of the kingdom; and the words are for us to give our services, to
pull, haul, tow, warp, or otherwise as directed, release, relieve, set
free, and rescue the aforesaid ship, or bark, or vessel, craft, or--”
“Please not to read all that,” cried Scuddy, “or a gale of wind may come
before you are half-way through. It was Admiral Darling's lawyer, Mr.
Furkettle, who prepared it, to prevent any chance of misunderstanding.”
“Provided always,” continued Tugwell, slowly, “and the meaning,
condition, purport, object, sense, and intention of this agreement is,
that the aforesaid Zebedee Tugwell shall submit in everything to the
orders, commands, instructions, counsel, directions, injunctions,
authority, or discretion, whether in writing or otherwise, of the
aforesaid--”
“I would not interrupt you if I could help it”--Scudamore had a large
stock of patience (enhanced by laborious practice at Stonnington), but
who might abide, when time was precious, to see Zebedee feeling his way
with his fingers along the bottom and to the end of every word, and then
stopping to congratulate himself at the conquest of every one over two
syllables? “But excuse me for saying that I know all these conditions;
and the tide will be lost, if we stop here.”
“Very good, sir; then you see how it standeth. Who hath broken them?
Not us! We was paid for to haul; and haul we did, according to superior
orders. She grounded from the south, with the tide making upp'ard,
somewhere about three-quarter flow; and the Squire, and you, and all
the rest of 'e, without no knowledge of the Pig whatsomever, fastens all
your pulley-haulies by the starn, and says, 'now pull!' And pull we did,
to the tune of sixteen guineas a day for the good of Springhaven.”
“And you knew all the time that it was wrong! Well, I never came across
such people. But surely some one of you would have had the honesty--I
beg pardon, I mean the good-will--to tell us. I can scarcely imagine
some forty men and boys preserving such a secret for nine whole days,
hauling for their lives in the wrong direction, and never even by a wink
or smile--”
“Springhaven is like that,” said Master Tugwell, proudly; “we does a
thing one and all together, even if us reasons consarning it. And over
and above that, sir, there is but two men in Springhaven as understands
the White Pig, barring my own self. The young 'uns might 'a smelt a rat,
but they knew better than to say so. Where the Blunder grounded--and she
hath airned her name, for the good of the dwellers in this village--is
the chine of the Pig; and he hath a double back, with the outer side
higher than the inner one. She came through a narrow nick in his outer
back, and then plumped, stem on, upon the inner one. You may haul at
her forever by the starn, and there she'll 'bide, or lay up again on the
other back. But bring her weight forrard, and tackle her by the head,
and off she comes, the very next fair tide; for she hath berthed herself
over the biggest of it, and there bain't but a basketful under her
forefoot.”
“Then, Master Tugwell, let us lose no time, but have at her at once, and
be done with it.” Scudamore jumped up, to give action to his words; but
Tugwell sate aground still, as firmly as the Blonde.
“Begging of your pardon, sir, I would invite of you not to be in no sart
of hurry hasting forwardly. Us must come off gradual, after holding on
so long there, and better to have Squire Darling round the corner first,
sir. Not that he knoweth much about it, but 'a might make believe to
do so. And when 'a hath seen us pull wrong ways, a hundred and twenty
guineas' worth, a' might grudge us the reward for pulling right ways.
I've a-knowed 'un get into that state of mind, although it was his own
tenants.”
The lieutenant was at length compelled to laugh, though for many reasons
loth to do so. But the quiet contempt for the Admiral's skill, and the
brief hint about his character, touched his sense of the ludicrous more
softly than the explanation of his own mishaps. Then the Captain of
Springhaven smiled almost imperceptibly; for he was a serious man, and
his smiles were accustomed to be interior.
“I did hear tell,” he said, stroking his beard, for fear of having
discomposed it, “that the Squire were under compulsion to go a bit
westward again to-morrow. And when he cometh back he would be glad to
find us had managed the job without him. No fear of the weather breaking
up afore Friday, and her can't take no harm for a tide or two. If you
thinks well, sir, let us heave at her to-day, as afore, by superior
orders. Then it come into your mind to try t'other end a bit, and you
shift all the guns and heavy lumber forrard to give weight to the bows
and lift the starn, and off her will glide at the first tug to-morrow,
so sure as my name is Zebedee. But mind one thing, sir, that you keep
her, when you've got her. She hath too many furriner natives aboard of
her, to be any way to my liking.”
“Oh, there need be no doubt about them,” replied Blyth; “we treat them
like ourselves, and they are all upon their honour, which no Frenchman
ever thinks of breaking. But my men will be tired of waiting for me. I
shall leave you to your plans, Tugwell.”
“Ah, I know the natur' of they young men,” Captain Zebedee mused, as he
sate in his hollow, till Scudamore's boat was far away; “they be full
of scruples for themselves and faith in other fellows. He'll never tell
Squire, nor no one else here, what I laid him under, and the laugh would
go again' him, if he did. We shall get to-day's money, I reckon, as well
as double pay to-morrow, and airn it. Well, it might 'a been better, and
it might be wuss.”
About two miles westward of the brook, some rocks marked the end of the
fine Springhaven sands and the beginning of a far more rugged beach, the
shingles and flint shelves of Pebbleridge. Here the chalk of the Sussex
backbone (which has been plumped over and sleeked by the flesh of the
valley) juts forth, like the scrags of a skeleton, and crumbles in low
but rugged cliffs into the flat domain of sea. Here the landing is bad,
and the anchorage worse, for a slippery shale rejects the fluke, and the
water is usually kept in a fidget between the orders of the west wind
and scurry of the tide.
This very quiet morning, with the wind off shore, and scarcely enough of
it to comb the sea, four smart-looking Frenchmen, with red caps on their
heads, were barely holding way upon the light gig of the Blonde, while
their Captain was keeping an appointment with a stranger, not far
from the weed-strewn line of waves. In a deep rocky channel where a
land-spring rose (which was still-born except at low water), and laver
and dilsk and claw-coral showed that the sea had more dominion there
than the sky, two men stood facing each other; and their words, though
belonging to the most polite of tongues, were not so courteous as might
be. Each man stood with his back to a rock--not touching it, however,
because it was too wet--one was as cold and as firm as the rock,
the other like the sea, tumultuous. The passionate man was Captain
Desportes, and the cold one Caryl Carne.
“Then you wish me to conclude, monsieur,” Carne spoke as one offering
repentance, “that you will not do your duty to your country, in the
subject set before you? I pray you to deliberate, because your position
hangs upon it.”
“Never! Never! Once more, Captain, with all thanks for your
consideration, I refuse. My duty to my own honour has first place. After
that my duty to my country. Speak of it no more, sir; it quite is to
insult me.”
“No, Captain Desportes, it is nothing of that kind, or I should not
be here to propose it. Your parole is given only as long as your ship
continues upon the sand. The moment she floats, you are liberated.
Then is the time for a noble stroke of fortune. Is it not so, my dear
friend?”
“No, sir. This affair is impossible. My honour has been pledged, not
until the ship is floating, but until I am myself set free in France. I
am sorry not to see things as you see them for me; but the question is
for my own consideration.”
Captain Desportes had resented, as an honest man must do, especially
when more advanced in years, the other's calm settlement, without
invitation, of matters which concerned his own conscience. And as most
mankind--if at all perceptive--like or dislike one another at a glance,
Desportes, being very quick and warm of nature, had felt at first sight
a strong repulsion from the cold and arrogant man who faced him. His age
was at least twice that of Carne, he had seen much service in the better
days of France, and had risen slowly by his own skill and valour; he
knew that his future in the service depended upon his decision in
this matter, and he had a large family to maintain. But his honour was
pledged, and he held fast by it.
“There is one consideration,” Carne replied, with rancour slowly
kindling in his great black eyes, “which precedes all others, even
that of honour, in the mind of a trusted officer. It is not that of
patriotism--which has not its usual weight with monsieur--but it is that
of obedience, discipline, loyalty, faith, towards those who have placed
faith in him. Captain Desportes, as commander of a ship, is entrusted
with property; and that confidence is the first debt upon his honour.”
To Desportes, as to most men of action, the right was plainer than the
reason. He knew that this final plea was unsound, but he did not see how
to contest it. So he came back to fact, which was easier for him.
“How am I to know, monsieur, what would be the wishes of those who have
entrusted me with my position? You are placed in authority by some means
here, in your own country, but against it. That much you have proved to
me, by papers. But your credentials are general only. They do not apply
to this especial case. If the Chief of the State knew my position, he
would wish me to act as I mean to act, for the honour and credit of our
nation.”
“Are you then acquainted with his signature? If so, perhaps you will
verify this, even if you are resolved to reject it.”
Carne drew a letter from an inner pocket, and carefully unfolded it.
There were many words and minute directions upon various subjects,
written by the hand of the most minute, and yet most comprehensive, of
mankind.
“There is nothing in this that concerns you,” he said, after showing
the date, only four days old, “except these few words at the end,
which perhaps you may like to read, before you make final decision. The
signature of the Chief is clear.”
Captain Desportes read aloud--“It is of the utmost importance to me,
that the Blonde should not be captured by the enemy, as the Ville
d'Anvers has been. You tell me that it is ashore near you, and the
Captain and crew upon parole, to be liberated if they assist in the
extrication of the vessel. This must not be. In the service of the
State, I demand that they consider not at all their parole. The
well-known speed and light draught of that vessel have rendered her
almost indispensable to me. When the vessel is free, they must rise upon
the enemy, and make for the nearest of our ports without delay. Upon
this I insist, and place confidence in your established courage and
management, to accomplish it to my satisfaction.”
“Your orders are clear enough,” said Caryl Carne. “What reason can you
give, as an officer of the Republic, for disobeying them?”
Desportes looked at his ship in the distance, and then at the sea and
the sky, with a groan, as if he were bidding farewell to them. Carne
felt sure that he had prevailed, and a smile shed light, but not a soft
light, on his hard pale countenance.
“Be in no rash haste,” said the French sea-captain, and he could not
have found words more annoying to the cold proud man before him; “I do
not recognise in this mandate the voice of my country, of the honourable
France, which would never say, 'Let my sons break their word of honour!'
This man speaks, not as Chief of a grand State, not as leader of noble
gentlemen, but as Emperor of a society of serfs. France is no empire;
she is a grand nation of spirit, of valour, above all, of honour. The
English have treated me, as I would treat them, with kindness, with
largeness, with confidence. In the name of fair France, I will not do
this thing.”
Carne was naturally pale, but now he grew white with rage, and his black
eyes flashed.
“France will be an empire within six months; and your honour will be put
upon prison diet, while your family starve for the sake of it.”
“If I ever meet you under other circumstances,” replied the brave
Frenchman, now equally pale, “I shall demand reparation, sir.”
“With great pleasure,” replied Carne, contemptuously; “meanwhile
monsieur will have enough to do to repair his broken fortunes.”
Captain Desportes turned his back, and gave a whistle for his crew,
then stepped with much dignity into his boat. “To the Blonde, lads,”
he cried, “to the unsullied Blonde!” Then he sate, looking at her, and
stroked his grizzled beard, into which there came trickling a bitter
tear or two, as he thought of his wife and family. He had acted well;
but, according to the measure of the present world, unwisely.