On the afternoon of the second day after she left Labrador, the Ninety-
Nine came rippling near Isle of Fires, not sixty miles from her
destination, catching a fair wind on her quarter off the land. Tarboe
was in fine spirits, Joan was as full of songs as a canary, and
Bissonnette was as busy watching her as in keeping the nose of the
Ninety-Nine pointing for Cap de Gloire. Tarboe was giving the sail full
to the wind, and thinking how he would just be able to reach Angel Point
and get his treasure housed before mass in the morning.
Mass! How many times had he laughed as he sat in church and heard the
cure have his gentle fling at smuggling! To think that the hiding-place
for his liquor was the unused, almost unknown, cellar of that very
church, built a hundred years before as a refuge from the Indians, which
he had reached by digging a tunnel from the shore to its secret passage!
That was why the customs officers never found anything at Angel Point,
and that was why Tarboe much loved going to mass. He sometimes thought
he could catch the flavour of the brands as he leaned his forehead on the
seat before him. But this time he would go to mass with a fine handful
of those gold pieces in his pocket, just to keep him in a commendable
mood. He laughed out loud at the thought of doing so within a stone's
throw of a fortune and nose-shot of fifty kegs of brandy.
As he did so, Bissonnette gave a little cry. They were coming on to
Cap de Gloire at the moment, and Tarboe and Joan, looking, saw a boat
standing off towards the mainland, as if waiting for them. Tarboe gave
a roar, and called to Joan to take the tiller. He snatched a glass and
levelled it.
"A Government tug!" he said, "and tete de Diable! there's your tall
Lafarge among 'em, Joan! I'd know him by his height miles off."
Joan lost colour a trifle and then got courage. "Pshaw," she said, "what
does he want?"
"Want? Want? He wants the Ninety-Nine and her cargo; but by the sun of
my soul, he'll get her across the devil's gridiron! See here, my girl,
this ain't any sport with you aboard. Bissonnette and I could make a
stand for it alone, but what's to become of you? I don't want you mixed
up in the mess."
The girl was eyeing the Government boat. "But I'm in it, and I can't be
out of it, and I don't want to be out now that I am in. Let me see the
glass." She took it in one hand. "Yes, it must be M'sieu' Lafarge,"
she said, frowning. "He might have stayed out of this."
"When he's got orders, he has to go," answered her father; "but he must
look out, for a gun is a gun, and I don't pick and choose. Besides, I've
no contraband this cruise, and I'll let no one stick me up."
"There are six or seven of them," said Joan debatingly.
"Bring her up to the wind," shouted Tarboe to Bissonnette. The mainsail
closed up several points, the Ninety-Nine slackened her pace and edged in
closer to the land. "Now, my girl," said Tarboe, "this is how it stands.
If we fight, there's someone sure to be hurt, and if I'm hurt, where'll
you be?"
Bissonnette interposed. "We've got nothing contraband. The gold is
ours."
"Trust that crew--but no!" cried Tarboe, with an oath. "The Government
would hold the rhino for possible owners, and then give it to a convent
or something. They shan't put foot here. They've said war, and they'll
get it. They're signalling us to stop, and they're bearing down. There
goes a shot!"
The girl had been watching the Government boat coolly. Now that it began
to bear on, she answered her father's question.
"Captain," she said, like a trusted mate, "we'll bluff them." Her eyes
flashed with the intelligence of war. "Here, quick, I'll take the
tiller. They haven't seen Bissonnette yet; he sits low. Call all hands
on deck--shout! Then, see: Loce will go down the middle hatch, get a
gun, come up with it on his shoulder, and move on to the fo'castle. Then
he'll drop down the fo'castle hatch, get along to the middle hatch, and
come up again with the gun, now with his cap, now without it, now with
his coat, now without it. He'll do that till we've got twenty or thirty
men on deck! They'll think we've been laying for them, and they'll not
come on--you see!"
Tarboe ripped out an oath. "It's a great game," he said, and a moment
afterwards, in response to his roars, Bissonnette came up the hatch with
his gun showing bravely; then again and again, now with his cap, now
without, now with his coat, now with none, anon with a tarpaulin over his
shoulders grotesquely. Meanwhile Tarboe trained his one solitary little
cannon on the enemy, roaring his men into place.
From the tug it seemed that a large and well-armed crew were ranging
behind the bulwarks of the Ninety-Nine. Mr. Martin, the inspector, saw
with alarm Bissonnette's constantly appearing rifle.
"They've arranged a plant for us, Mr. Lafarge. What do you think we'd
better do?" he asked.
"Fight!" answered Lafarge laconically. He wished to put himself on
record, for he was the only one on board who saw through the ruse.
"But I've counted at least twenty men, all armed, and we've only five."
"As you please, sir," said Lafarge bluntly, angry at being tricked, but
inwardly glad to be free of the business, for he pictured to himself that
girl at the tiller--he had seen her as she went aft--in a police court at
Quebec. Yet his instinct for war and his sense of duty impelled him to
say: "Still, sir, fight!"
"No, no, Mr. Lafarge," excitedly rejoined his chief. "I cannot risk it.
We must go back for more men and bring along a Gatling. Slow down!" he
called. Lafarge turned on his heel with an oath, and stood watching the
Ninety-Nine.
"She'll laugh at me till I die!" he said to himself presently, as the
tug turned up stream and pointed for Quebec. "Well, I'm jiggered!" he
added, as a cannon shot came ringing over the water after them. He was
certain also that he heard loud laughter. No doubt he was right; for as
the tug hurried on, Tarboe ran to Joan, hugged her like a bear, and
roared till he ached. Then she paid out the sheet, they clapped on all
sail, and travelled in the track of the enemy.
Tarboe's spirit was roused. He was not disposed to let his enemy off on
even such terms, so he now turned to Joan and said: "What say you to a
chase of the gentleman?"
Joan was in a mood for such a dare-devil adventure. For three people,
one of whom was a girl, to give chase to a well-manned, well-armed
Government boat was too good a relish to be missed. Then, too, it had
just occurred to her that a parley would be amusing, particularly if she
and Lafarge were the truce-bearers. So she said: "That is very good."
"Suppose they should turn and fight?" suggested Bissonnette.
"That's true--here's m'am'selle," agreed Tarboe. "But, see," said Joan.
"If we chase them and call upon them to surrender--and after all, we can
prove that we had nothing contraband--what a splendid game it'll be!"
Mischief flicked in her eyes.
"Good!" said Tarboe. "To-morrow I shall be a rich man, and then they'll
not dare to come again."
So saying, he gave the sail to the wind, and away the Ninety-Nine went
after the one ewe lamb of the Government.
Mr. Martin saw her coming, and gave word for all steam. It would be a
pretty game, for the wind was in Tarboe's favour, and the general
advantage was not greatly with the tug. Mr. Martin was now anxious
indeed to get out of the way of the smuggler. Lafarge made one
restraining effort, then settled into an ironical mood. Yet a half-dozen
times he was inclined to blurt out to Martin what he believed was the
truth. A man, a boy, and a girl to bluff them that way! In his bones he
felt that it was the girl who was behind this thing. Of one matter he
was sure--they had no contraband stuff on board, or Tarboe would not have
brought his daughter along. He could not understand the attitude, for
Tarboe would scarcely have risked the thing out of mere bravado. Why not
call a truce? Perhaps he could solve the problem. They were keeping a
tolerably safe distance apart, and there was no great danger of the
Ninety-Nine overhauling them even if it so willed; but Mr. Martin did not
know that.
What he said to his chief had its effect, and soon there was a white flag
flying on the tug. It was at once answered with a white handkerchief of
Joan's. Then the tug slowed up, the Ninety-Nine came on gaily, and at a
good distance came up to the wind, and stood off.
"What do you want?" asked Tarboe through his speaking-tube.
"A parley," called Mr. Martin.
"Good; send an officer," answered Tarboe.
A moment after, Lafarge was in a boat rowing over to meet another boat
rowed by Joan alone, who, dressed in a suit of Bissonnette's, had
prevailed on her father to let her go.
The two boats nearing each other, Joan stood up, saluting, and Lafarge
did the same.
"Good-day, m'sieu'," said Joan, with assumed brusqueness, mischief
lurking about her mouth. "What do you want?"
"Good-day, monsieur; I did not expect to confer with you."
"M'sieu'," said Joan, with well-acted dignity, "if you prefer to confer
with the captain or Mr. Bissonnette, whom I believe you know in the
matter of a pail, and--"
"No, no; pardon me, monsieur," said Lafarge more eagerly than was good
for the play, "I am glad to confer with you, you will understand--you
will understand--" He paused.
"What will I understand?"
"You will understand that I understand!" Lafarge waved meaningly towards
the Ninety-Nine, but it had no effect at all. Joan would not give the
game over into his hands.
"That sounds like a charade or a puzzle game. We are gentlemen on a
serious errand, aren't we?"
"Yes," answered Lafarge, "perfect gentlemen on a perfectly serious
errand!"
"Very well, m'sieu'. Have you come to surrender?" The splendid
impudence of the thing stunned Lafarge, but he said: "I suppose one or
the other ought to surrender; and naturally," he added with slow point,
"it should be the weaker."
"Very well. Our captain is willing to consider conditions. You came
down on us to take us--a quiet craft sailing in free waters. You attack
us without cause. We summon all hands, and you run. We follow, you
ask for truce. It is granted. We are not hard--no. We only want our
rights. Admit them; we'll make surrender easy, and the matter is over."
Lafarge gasped. She was forcing his hand. She would not understand his
oblique suggestions. He saw only one way now, and that was to meet her,
boast for boast.
"I haven't come to surrender," he said, "but to demand."
"M'sieu'," Joan said grandly, "there's nothing more to say. Carry word
to your captain that we'll overhaul him by sundown, and sink him before
supper."
Lafarge burst out laughing.
"Well, by the Lord, but you're a swashbuckler, Joan--"
"M'sieu'--"
"Oh, nonsense! I tell you, nonsense! Let's have over with this, my
girl. You're the cleverest woman on the continent, but there's a limit
to everything. Here, tell me now, and if you answer me straight I'll say
no more."
"M'sieu', I am here to consider conditions, not to--" "Oh, for God's
sake, Joan! Tell me now, have you got anything contraband on board?
There'll be a nasty mess about the thing, for me and all of us, and why
can't we compromise? I tell you honestly we'd have come on, if I hadn't
seen you aboard."
Joan turned her head back with a laugh. "My poor m'sieu'! You have such
bad luck. Contraband? Let me see? Liquors and wines and tobacco are
contraband. Is it not so?" Lafarge nodded.
"Is money--gold--contraband?"
"Money? No; of course not, and you know it. Why won't you be sensible?
You're getting me into a bad hole, and--"
"I want to see how you'll come out. If you come out well--" She paused
quaintly.
"Yes, if I come out well--"
"If you come out very well, and we do not sink you before supper, I may
ask you to come and see me."
"H'm! Is that all? After spoiling my reputation, I'm to be let come and
see you."
"Isn't that enough to start with? What has spoiled your reputation?"
"A man, a boy, and a slip of a girl." He looked meaningly enough at her
now. She laughed. "See," he added; "give me a chance. Let me search
the Ninety-Nine for contraband,--that's all I've got to do with,--and
then I can keep quiet about the rest. If there's no contraband, whatever
else there is, I'll hold my tongue."
"I've told you what there is."
He did not understand. "Will you let me search?" Joan's eyes flashed.
"Once and for all, no, Orvay Lafarge. I am the daughter of a man whom
you and your men would have killed or put in the dock. He's been a
smuggler, and I know it. Who has he robbed? Not the poor, not the
needy; but a rich Government that robs also. Well, in the hour when he
ceases to be a smuggler for ever, armed men come to take him. Why didn't
they do so before? Why so pious all at once? No; I am first the
daughter of my father, and afterwards--"
"And afterwards?"
"What to-morrow may bring forth."
Lafarge became very serious. "I must go back. Mr. Martin is signalling,
and your father is calling. I do not understand, but you're the one
woman in the world for my money, and I'm ready to stand by that and leave
the customs to-morrow if need be."
Joan's eyes blazed, her cheek was afire. "Leave it to-day. Leave it
now. Yes; that's my one condition. If you want me, and you say you do,
come aboard the Ninety-Nine, and for to-day be one of us-to-morrow what
you will."
"What I will? What I will, Joan? Do you mean it?"
"Yes. Pshaw! Your duty? Don't I know how the Ministers and the
officers have done their duty at Quebec? It's all nonsense. You must
make your choice once for all now."
Lafarge stood a moment thinking. "Joan, I'll do it. I'd go hunting in
hell at your bidding. But see. Everything's changed. I couldn't fight
against you, but I can fight for you. All must be open now. You've said
there's no contraband. Well, I'll tell Mr. Martin so, but I'll tell him
also that you've only a crew of two--"
"Of three, now!"
"Of three! I will do my duty in that, then resign and come over to you,
if I can."