"They might hit you."
"But no. They can't hit a wall. Go on, my dear." They saluted, and,
as Lafarge turned away, Joan said, with a little mocking laugh,
"Tell him that he must surrender, or we'll sink him before supper."
Lafarge nodded, and drew away quickly towards the tug. His interview
with Mr. Martin was brief, and he had tendered his resignation, though it
was disgracefully informal, and was over the side of the boat again and
rowing quickly away before his chief recovered his breath. Then Mr.
Martin got a large courage. He called on his men to fire when Lafarge
was about two hundred and fifty feet from the tug. The shots rattled
about him. He turned round coolly and called out, "Coward-we'll sink you
before supper!"
A minute afterwards there came another shot, and an oar dropped from his
hand. But now Joan was rowing rapidly towards him, and presently was
alongside.
"Quick, jump inhere," she said. He did so, and she rowed on quickly.
Tarboe did not understand, but now his blood was up, and as another
volley sent bullets dropping around the two he gave the Ninety-Nine to
the wind, and she came bearing down smartly to them. In a few moments
they were safely on board, and Joan explained. Tarboe grasped Lafarge's
unmaimed hand,--the other Joan was caring for,--and swore that fighting
was the only thing left now.
Mr. Martin had said the same, but when he saw the Ninety-Nine determined,
menacing, and coming on, he became again uncertain, and presently gave
orders to make for the lighthouse on the opposite side of the river. He
could get over first, for the Ninety-Nine would not have the wind so much
in her favour, and there entrench himself; for even yet Bissonnette amply
multiplied was in his mind--Lafarge had not explained that away. He was
in the neighbourhood of some sunken rocks of which he and his man at the
wheel did not know accurately, and in making what he thought was a clear
channel he took a rock with great force, for they were going full steam
ahead. Then came confusion, and in getting out the one boat it was
swamped and a man nearly drowned. Meanwhile the tug was fast sinking.
While they were throwing off their clothes, the Ninety-Nine came down,
and stood off. On one hand was the enemy, on the other the water, with
the shore half a mile distant.
"Do you surrender?" called out Tarboe.
"Can't we come aboard without that?" feebly urged Mr. Martin.
"I'll see you damned first, Mr. Martin. Come quick, or I'll give you
what for."
"We surrender," answered the officer gently.
A few minutes later he and his men were on board, with their rifles
stacked in a corner at Bissonnette's hand.
Then Tarboe brought the Ninety-Nine close to the wreck, and with his
little cannon put a ball into her. This was the finish. She shook her
nose, shivered, shot down like a duck, and was gone.
Mr. Martin was sad even to tears.
"Now, my beauties," said Tarboe, "now that I've got you safe, I'll show
you the kind of cargo I've got." A moment afterwards he hoisted a keg on
deck. "Think that's whisky?" he asked. "Lift it, Mr. Martin." Mr.
Martin obeyed. "Shake it," he added.
Mr. Martin did so. "Open it, Mr. Martin." He held out a hatchet-hammer.
The next moment a mass of gold pieces yellowed to their eyes. Mr. Martin
fell back, breathing hard.
"Is that contraband, Mr. Martin?"
"Treasure-trove," humbly answered the stricken officer.
"That's it, and in a month, Mr. Martin, I'll be asking the chief of your
department to dinner."
Meanwhile Lafarge saw how near he had been to losing a wife and a
fortune. Arrived off Isle of Day; Tarboe told Mr. Martin and his men
that if they said "treasure-trove" till they left the island their live
would not be worth "a tinker's damn." When the had sworn, he took them
to Angel Point, fed then royally, gave them excellent liquor to drink,
and sent them in a fishing-smack with Bissonnette to Quebec where,
arriving, they told strange tales.
Bissonnette bore a letter to a certain banker in Quebec, who already had
done business with Tarboe, and next midnight Tarboe himself, with Gobal,
Lafarge, Bissonnette, and another, came knocking at the banker's door,
each carrying a keg on his shoulder and armed to the teeth. And, what
was singular two stalwart police-officers walked behind with comfortable
and approving looks.
A month afterwards Lafarge and Joan were married in the parish church at
Isle of Days, and it was said that Mr. Martin, who, for some strange
reason, was allowed to retain his position in the customs, sent a
present. The wedding ended with a sensation, for just as the benediction
was pronounced a loud report was heard beneath the floor of the church.
There was great commotion, but Tarboe whispered in the curb's ear, and he
blushing, announced that it was the bursting of a barrel. A few minutes
afterwards the people of the parish knew the old hiding-place of Tarboe's
contraband, and, though the cure rebuked them, they roared with laughter
at the knowledge.
"So droll, so droll, our Tarboe there!" they shouted, for already they
began to look upon him as their Seigneur.
In time the cure forgave him also.
Tarboe seldom left Isle of Days, save when he went to visit his daughter,
in St. Louis Street, Quebec, not far from the Parliament House, where
Orvay Lafarge is a member of the Ministry. The ex-smuggler was a member
of the Assembly for three months, but after defeating his own party on a
question of tariff, he gave a portrait of himself to the Chamber, and
threw his seat into the hands of his son-in-law. At the Belle
Chatelaine, where he often goes, he sometimes asks Bissonnette to play
"The Demoiselle with the Scarlet Hose."