DANGEROUS NAVIGATION AND DOUBTFUL PILOTAGE--MONTAGUE IS HOT, GASCOYNE
SARCASTIC.
We now turn to the Talisman, which, it will be remembered, we left
making her way slowly through the reefs toward the northern end of the
island, under the pilotage of Gascoyne.
The storm, which had threatened to burst over the island at an earlier
period of that evening, passed off far to the south. The light breeze
which had tempted Captain Montague to weigh anchor soon died away, and
before night a profound calm brooded over the deep.
When the breeze fell, Gascoyne went forward, and, seating himself on a
forecastle carronade, appeared to fall into a deep reverie. Montague
paced the quarter-deck impatiently, glancing from time to time down the
skylight at the barometer which hung in the cabin, and at the vane which
drooped motionless from the masthead. He acted with the air of a man who
was deeply dissatisfied with the existing state of things, and who felt
inclined to take the laws of nature into his own hands. Fortunately for
nature and himself, he was unable to do this.
Ole Thorwald exhibited a striking contrast to the active, impatient
commander of the vessel. That portly individual, having just finished a
cigar which the first lieutenant had presented to him on his arrival on
board, threw the fag end of it into the sea, and proceeded leisurely to
fill a large-headed German pipe, which was the constant companion of
his waking hours, and the bowl of which seldom enjoyed a cool moment.
Ole having filled the pipe, lighted it; then leaning over the taffrail,
he gazed placidly into the dark waters, which were so perfectly calm
that every star in the vault above could be compared with its reflection
in the abyss below.
Ole Thorwald, excepting when engaged in actual battle, was phlegmatic,
and constitutionally lazy and happy. When enjoying his German pipe he
felt impressibly serene, and did not care to be disturbed. He therefore
paid no attention to the angry manner of Montague, who brushed past him
repeatedly in his hasty perambulations, but continued to gaze downwards
and smoke calmly in a state of placid felicity.
"You appear to take things coolly, Mister Thorwald," said Montague, half
in jest, yet with a touch of asperity in his manner.
"I always do" (puff) "when the weather's not warm." (Puff, puff.)
"Humph!" ejaculated Montague; "but the weather _is_ warm just now; at
least it seems so to me,--so warm that I should not be surprised if a
thunder-squall were to burst upon us ere long."
"Not a pleasant place to be caught in a squall," returned the other,
gazing through the voluminous clouds of smoke which he emitted at
several coral reefs, whose ragged edges just rose to the level of the
calm sea without breaking its mirror-like surface; "I've seen one or two
fine vessels caught that way, just here abouts, and go right down in the
middle of the breakers."
Montague smiled, and the commander-in-chief of the Sandy Cove army fired
innumerable broadsides from his mouth with redoubled energy.
"That is not a cheering piece of information," said he, "especially when
one has reason to believe that a false man stands at the helm."
Montague uttered the latter part of his speech in a subdued, earnest
voice, and the matter-of-fact Ole turned his eyes slowly towards the man
at the wheel; but observing that he who presided there was a short, fat,
commonplace, and uncommonly jolly-looking seaman, he merely uttered a
grunt, and looked at Montague inquiringly.
"Nay: I mean not the man who actually holds the spokes of the wheel, but
he who guides the ship."
Thorwald glanced at Gascoyne, whose figure was dimly visible in the fore
part of the ship, and then looking at Montague in surprise, shook his
head gravely, as if to say, "I'm still in the dark; go on."
"Can Mr. Thorwald put out his pipe for a few minutes, and accompany me
to the cabin? I would have a little converse on this matter in private."
Ole hesitated.
"Well, then," said the other, smiling, "you may take the pipe with you,
although it is against rules to smoke in my cabin; but I'll make an
exception in your case."
Ole smiled, bowed, and thanking the captain for his courtesy, descended
to the cabin along with him, and sat down on a sofa in the darkest
corner of it. Here he smoked vehemently, while his companion, assuming
rather a mysterious air, said, in an undertone:
"You have heard, of course, that the pirate Durward has been seen, or
heard of, in these seas?"
Ole nodded.
"Has it ever struck you that this Gascoyne, as he calls himself, knows
more about the pirate than he chooses to tell?"
"Never," replied Ole. Indeed, nothing ever did _strike_ the stout
commander-in-chief of the forces. All new ideas came to him by slow
degrees, and did not readily find admission to his perceptive faculties.
But when they did gain an entrance into his thick head, nothing was ever
known to drive them out again. As he did not seem inclined to comment on
the hint thrown out by his companion, Montague continued, in a still
more impressive tone:
"What would you say, if this Gascoyne himself turned out to be the
pirate?"
The idea being a simple one, and the proper course to follow being
rather obvious, Ole replied, with unwonted promptitude: "Put him in
irons, of course, and hang him as soon possible."
Montague laughed. "Truly that would be a vigorous way of proceeding; but
as I have no proof of the truth of my suspicions, and as the man is my
guest at present, as well as my pilot, it behooves me to act more
cautiously."
"Not at all; by no means; you're quite wrong, captain (which is the
natural result of being young; all young people go wrong more or less);
it is clearly your duty to catch a pirate anyhow you can, as fast as you
can, and kill him without delay."
Here the sanguinary Thorwald paused to draw and puff into vitality the
pipe which was beginning to die down, and Montague asked:
"But how d'you know he is the pirate?"
"Because you said so," replied his friend.
"Nay; I said that I _suspected_ him to be Durward,--nothing more."
"And what more would you have?" cried Ole, whose calm spirit was ruffled
with unusual violence at the thought of the hated Durward being actually
within his reach. "For my part, I conceive that you are justified in
taking him up on suspicion, trying him in a formal way (just to save
appearances) on suspicion and hanging him at once on suspicion. Quite
time enough to inquire into the matter after the villain is comfortably
sewed up in a hammock with a thirty-pound shot at his heels, and sent to
the bottom of the sea for the sharks and crabs to devour. Suspicion is
nine points of the law in these regions, Captain Montague, and we never
allow the tenth point to interfere with the course of justice one way or
another. Hang him, or shoot him if you prefer it, at once; _that_ is
what I recommend."
Just as Thorwald concluded this amiable piece of advice, the deep,
strong tones of Gascoyne's voice were heard addressing the first
lieutenant.
"You had better hoist your royals and skyscrapers, Mr. Mulroy; we shall
have a light air off the land presently, and it will require all your
canvas to carry the ship round the north point, so as to bring her guns
to bear on the village of the savages."
"The distance seems to me very short," replied the lieutenant, "and the
Talisman sails faster than you may suppose with a light wind."
"I doubt not the sailing qualities of your good ship, though I could
name a small schooner that would beat them in light wind or storm; but
you forget that we have to land our stout ally Mr. Thorwald with his men
at the Goat's Pass, and that will compel us to lose time,--too much of
which has been lost already."
Without reply, the lieutenant turned on his heel, and gave the necessary
orders to hoist the additional sails, while the captain hastened on
deck, leaving Thorwald to finish his pipe in peace, and ruminate on the
suspicions which had been raised in his mind.
In less than half an hour the light wind which Gascoyne had predicted
came off the land, first in a series of what sailors term "cat's paws,"
and then in a steady breeze, which lasted several hours, and caused the
vessel to slip rapidly through the still water. As he looked anxiously
over the bow, Captain Montague felt that he had placed himself
completely in the power of the suspected skipper of the Foam; for coral
reefs surrounded him on all sides, and many of them passed so close to
the ship's side that he expected every moment to feel the shock that
would wreck his vessel and his hopes at the same time. He blamed himself
for trusting a man whom he supposed he had such good reason to doubt,
but consoled himself by thrusting his hand into his bosom an grasping
the handle of a pistol, with which, in the event of the ship striking,
he had made up his mind to blow out Gascoyne's brains.
About an hour later, the Talisman was hove-to off the Goat's Pass, and
Ole Thorwald was landed with his party at the base of a cliff which rose
sheer up from the sea like a wall.
"Are we to go up there?" inquired Ole, in a rueful tone of voice, as he
surveyed a narrow chasm to which Gascoyne guided him.
"That is the way. It's not so bad at it looks. When you get to the top,
follow the little path that leads along the cliffs northward, and you
will reach the brow of a hill from which the native village will be
visible. Descend and attack it at once, if you find men to fight with;
if not, take possession quietly. Mind you don't take the wrong turn; it
leads to places where a wildcat would not venture even in daylight. If
you attend to what I have said, you can't go wrong. Good-night. Shove
off."
The oars splashed in the sea at the word, and Gascoyne returned to the
ship, leaving Ole to lead his men up the Pass as best he might.
It seemed as if the pilot had resolved to make sure of the destruction
of the ship that night; for, not content with running her within a foot
or two of innumerable reefs, he at last steered in so close to the shore
that the beetling cliffs actually seemed to overhang the deck. When the
sun rose, the breeze died away; but sufficient wind continued to fill
the upper sails, and to urge the vessel gently onward for some time
after the surface of the sea was calm.
Montague endeavored to conceal and repress his anxiety as long as
possible; but when at length a line of breakers without any apparent
opening presented themselves right ahead, he went up to Gascoyne and
said, in a stern undertone:
"Are you aware that you forfeit your life if my vessel strikes?"
"I know it," replied Gascoyne, coolly throwing away the stump of his
cigar, and lighting a fresh one; "but I have no desire either to destroy
your vessel or to lose my life; although, to say truth, I should have no
objection, in other circumstances, to attempt the one and to risk the
other."
"Say you so?" said Montague, with a sharp glance at the countenance of
the other, where, however, he could perceive nothing but placid good
humor; "that speech sounds marvelously warlike, methinks in the mouth
of a sandal-wood trader."
"Think you, then," said Gascoyne, with a smile of contempt, "that it is
only your fire-eating men of war who experience bold impulses and heroic
desires?"
"Nay; but traders are not wont to aspire to the honor of fighting the
ships that are commissioned to protect them."
"Truly, if I had sought protection from the war-ships of the King of
England, I must have sailed long and far to find it," returned Gascoyne.
"It is no child's play to navigate these seas, where bloodthirsty
savages swarm in their canoes like locusts. Moreover, I sail, as I have
told you before, in the China Seas, where pirates are more common than
honest traders. What would you say if I were to take it into my head to
protect myself?"
"That you were well able to do so," answered Montague, with a smile;
"but when I examined the Foam, I found no arms save a few cutlasses and
rusty muskets that did not seem to have been in recent use."
"A few bold men can defend themselves with any kind of weapons. My men
are stout fellows, not used to flinch at the sound of a round shot
passing over their heads."
The conversation was interrupted here by the ship rounding a point and
suddenly opening up a view of a fine bay, at the head of which,
embosomed in trees and dense underwood, stood the native village of
which they were in search.
Just in front of this village lay a small but high and thickly-wooded
island, which, as it were, filled up the head of the bay, sheltering it
completely from the ocean, and making the part of the sea which washed
the shores in front of the houses resemble a deep and broad canal. This
stripe of water was wide and deep enough to permit of a vessel of the
largest size passing through it; but to any one approaching the place
for the first time, there seemed to be no passage for any sort of craft
larger than a native canoe. The island itself was high enough to conceal
the Talisman completely from the natives until she was within half
gunshot of the shore.
Gascoyne still stood on the fore part of the ship as she neared this
spot, which was so beset with reefs and rocks that her escape seemed
miraculous.
"I think we are near enough for the work that we have to do," suggested
Montague, in some anxiety.
"Just about it, Mr. Montague," said Gascoyne, as he turned towards the
helm and shouted, "Port your helm."
"Port it is," answered the man at the wheel.
"Steady."
"Back the topsails, Mr. Mulroy."
The sails were backed at once, and the ship became motionless, with her
broadside to the village.
"What are we to do now, Mr. Gascoyne?" inquired Montague, smiling in
spite of himself at the strange position in which he found himself.
"Fire away at the village as hard as you can," replied Gascoyne,
returning the smile.
"What! do you really advise me to bombard a defenseless place, in which,
as far as I can see, there are none but women and children."
"Even so," returned the other, carelessly. "At the same time I would
advise you to give it them with a blank cartridge."
"And to what purpose such waste of powder?" inquired Montague.
"The furthering of the plans which I have been appointed to carry out,"
replied Gascoyne, somewhat stiffly, as he turned on his heel and walked
away.
The young captain reddened and bit his lip, as he gave the order to load
the guns with blank cartridge, and made preparation to fire this
harmless broadside on the village. The word to "fire" had barely crossed
his lips when the rocks around seemed to tremble with the crash of a
shot that came apparently from the other side of the island; for its
smoke was visible, although the vessel that discharged it was concealed
behind the point. The Talisman's broadside followed so quickly that the
two discharges were blended in one.