"It's enough to make a man say he'll throw up the whole affair," cried
Uncle Paul, running his fingers in amongst his grizzly hair and giving
it a savage tug.
"Uncle! Why, what's the matter now?"
"Yes, you may well say what's the matter now! Everything's the matter.
The worry's almost maddening."
"What, is there anything fresh, uncle?"
"There, don't you take any notice, boy. I get regularly out of heart.
There's always something wrong. It's as if we were never to be off.
All these weary, weary months gone slowly dragging on."
"Why, uncle, they seem to me to go like lightning," cried Rodd.
"Oh, yes, of course. You are a boy, with plenty of time before you. I
am getting an old man, and with little time to spare to do all the work
I want to. I seem to get not a bit farther."
"Why, you do, uncle. It's astonishing what a lot we have done. Let's
see; it's just fifteen months since you bought the schooner."
"Fifteen, boy? You mean fifty."
"Fifteen, uncle; and she was nothing like finished then."
"No, and as soon as the men knew that she was sold, I believe they made
up their minds to spin the job out as long as they could."
"Oh, but, uncle, they did it all very beautifully; and see what a lot of
alterations you had made."
"Had made, indeed! Wasn't I led on into having them done by that old
scoundrel Chubb?"
"No, uncle. He always consulted with you first, and advised this and
that so as to make the vessel better."
"Humph!" grunted Uncle Paul.
"Then see what a lot you had done, fitting up the work-room, and the
bottles and tanks, and getting in the dredging apparatus. It does seem
a long time to you, but see what a lot there was to do. You know you
were never satisfied."
"I was, sir! Don't you get accusing me of such things, Rodney. You
grow more impertinent every day. Now put a regular check upon yourself,
sir. If you are like this as a boy I don't know what you are going to
be when you grow to be a man."
"Well, uncle, I won't say another word about it."
"Ah! No sulking, sir! I command you to go on speaking at once."
"Very well, uncle; but you did say that you would have everything of the
best, and that nothing should be left undone, to hinder the expedition
from being successful."
"Did I say so, Rodd?"
"Why, yes, uncle, over and over again."
"Well, well, I did mean it. But I am getting quite out of heart. Every
day it seems as if there is something fresh to throw us back. Now it's
stores; now it's something else wants painting; now one of the crew
wants a holiday, just at a time too when things are so nearly ready that
I might want to start at any moment."
"Well, I shall be glad when we do get off now, uncle," said the boy
thoughtfully.
"Then you had better give up thinking about it, boy. It looks to me
like another six months before we can be ready."
"Oh no, uncle! Captain Chubb said to me yesterday that if I wanted to
get anything else to take with me I must get it at once."
"Then don't you believe him, Rodd. He's a dilatory old impostor. I
don't believe he means for me to go at all. By the way, did you have
the men up and give them that big medicine chest?"
"Yes, uncle; the day before yesterday."
"Oh, and were those little casks of spirits got into the store-room?"
"Yes, uncle. I saw the men get them on board myself."
"That's right. But look here, Pickle; were you with them all the time?"
"Yes, uncle. You told me to be, before you went up to London."
"That's right, Rodd. But--er--did you--did you hear the men make any
remark about them?"
"No, uncle; but I saw them smell the bung-holes and look at one another
and laugh."
"Humph!" said the doctor, smiling. "By the way, I think I'll go on
board now and have a look round. There are several things I want to see
to, those casks and kegs among the rest."
"They were all put just as you gave orders, uncle."
"Yes; but I want to test the spirits all the same. Here, we may as well
go on board at once."
"Very well," cried the boy eagerly. "Is there any little thing we can
take with us?"
"No, my boy. As far as I am concerned, I think I can say everything is
ready."
It was not long before the doctor and his nephew were down at the
landing-place and being rowed across the harbour to where a beautifully
trim full-sized schooner lay moored to one of the great buoys; and on
coming alongside they were hailed by Captain Chubb, whose face seemed to
shine with animation as he helped his chief on board.
"Morning, sir!" he cried. "I was just wishing that you would come on
board."
"Bah!" exclaimed Uncle Paul. "What wants doing now?"
"Nothing. Not as I know of."
"Oh, are you sure?" said Uncle Paul sarcastically, "Sartin, unless you
have got some more bottles or cranky tackle to be stowed away, sir."
"Oh, indeed," said Uncle Paul shortly. "You don't mean to say you have
done at last?"
"Me, sir? Why, I was ready six months ago, only you had always got some
new scheme you wanted fitted in."
"Ah, well, never mind about that now," cried Uncle Paul. "Then we may
set sail any day?"
"'Cept Friday, sir. The men wouldn't like that. To-night if you like."
"Ah, well, we won't go to-night," said the doctor.
"Only give your orders, sir," said the captain shortly. "Like to take a
look round now? Fresh provisions are all on board."
"Oh no," said Uncle Paul, "I know it all by heart."
"Looks a beauty now, don't she, sir?"
"Oh yes, she looks very well. Here, Rodd, come down with me into the
work-room."
The doctor strode off aft at once, the captain following slowly with the
boy; and as their chief descended the cabin stairs Captain Chubb cocked
his eye at his young companion.
"Bit rusty this morning," he whispered.
"Yes; uncle's getting out of patience," whispered back Rodd.
"No wonder," said the captain. "Well, 'tarn't my fault. I never see
such a doctor's shop and museum as he's made of the craft."
"Now, Rodney!" came from below sharply.
"Coming, uncle!" cried the boy, snatching at the brass rail, which, like
every bit of metal about the beautiful vessel, shone as brightly as if
it were part of a yacht.
The doctor was standing at the foot of the stairs with his hand upon a
door, which he had just unlocked, and he led the way into a well-lit
portion of the vessel which had originally been intended for the stowage
of cargo, but which was now fitted up with an endless number of
arrangements such as had been deemed necessary for the carrying out of
the expedition.
One portion was like a chemical laboratory. Upon dresser-like tables
fitted against the bulkhead were rows of railed-in bottles and jars, and
beneath them new bright microscopes and other apparatus such as would
gladden the heart of a naturalist. But the doctor gave merely a cursory
glance at these various objects, with whose arrangement he had long been
familiar, and made his way to where, set up on end upon a stout bench,
were about a dozen specially made spirit casks, each fitted with its tap
and a little receptacle hung beneath to catch any drops that might leak
away.
"Here, I want to test these," said the doctor; "and, by the way, ask
Captain Chubb to step down."
There was no need, for almost at the same moment the captain's heavy
step was heard upon the metal-covered cabin stairs.
"Anything I can do, sir?" he asked, in his gruff way.
"Yes, look here, captain," said the doctor, and he took a bright glass
measure from where it hung by its foot in a little rack, safe from
falling by the rolling of the vessel; "I was just going to test these
spirits, and I thought I should like you to be here."
"Hah!" said the captain. "I've thought a deal about all them little
barrels put so handy there, ready on tap, and it's the only thing I
don't like, Dr Robson."
"Why?" said Uncle Paul shortly.
"Why, it's just like this, sir. I have picked you out as sober a crew
as ever went on a voyage, but sailors are sailors, sir, and I don't
think it's right to be throwing temptation in their way."
"But this, my workshop, where I bottle my specimens, will always be kept
under lock and key."
"Nay!" snorted the captain.
"But I tell you it will," cried Uncle Paul. "Nobody will have any
business here but my nephew and me."
"That's what you mean," said the captain, "but how about times when you
are busy, or forget and leave it open? Can't warrant always to keep it
shut."
"Well," said Uncle Paul, with a curious smile, "I have thought of that,"
and going to one of the little casks he turned the tap and let about a
couple of tablespoonfuls of liquid that looked like filtered water flow
into the little glass measure, covering the bottom to about an inch in
depth. "There," said the doctor, holding up the glass to the light;
"just taste that, captain."
"Nay. I don't mind a drop of good rum at the proper season, but I don't
care about spirits like that."
"I only want you to taste it," said the doctor. "It's too strong to
drink."
"I know," said the captain. "Burns like fire."
"Just taste, but don't swallow it."
"Nay--Well, I'll do that. But it looks like physic."
The speaker just dipped his fore-finger into the liquid, and touched his
lips, to cry angrily--
"Why, it's pison!"
"No," said the doctor; "proof alcohol for preserving my specimens. If
by accident any of the men taste that they won't want any more, will
they?"
"Don't know," said the captain. "Maybe they'd water it down."
"Fill that measure with water, Rodd," said the doctor.
The boy took the glass to a big stone filter covered with basketwork,
and filled the measure to the brim.
"Now try it, captain," said the doctor.
This time with a scowl of dislike, the captain raised the glass to his
lips, but set it down again quickly and hurried to a little leaden sink
in one corner of the laboratory.
"Worse than ever, doctor."
"Well, do you think the men will water that down?"
"Not they! One taste will be quite enough."
"You don't think I need label those casks `Temptation,' do you?"
"Nay, sir. If you want to be honest to the lads, I should put `Pison'
upon them in big letters."
"I would," said the doctor dryly, "but, as you say, sailors are sailors,
and I don't think they'd believe it if I did."
"What have you put in it, sir?"
"Ah! that's my secret, Captain Chubb."
"Well, I hope none of the lads will touch it; but it's sperrits, you
know. Won't answer for it that if one of them was helping you to bottle
up some of them things as we shall fish up when we gets into the
Tropics, he wouldn't be trying a sip."
"I shouldn't be surprised either," said the doctor, "but if he did he
wouldn't do it again."
The skipper looked at him sharply.
"Don't mean that, do you, sir?" he cried.
"Indeed, but I do," replied the doctor.
"Going too far," growled the skipper. "Look here, doctor; I've fell
into all your ways like a man, and have helped to drill the chaps into
handling your tackle, which is outside an able seaman's dooties; but I
don't like this 'ere a bit."
"I can't help that," said the doctor, bristling up. "I shall of course
tell them that they must not touch this stuff, of which no doubt I shall
use a great deal, and it will be in direct opposition to my orders if
they give way to the temptation."
"Right enough," said the skipper, "but seamen's weak--like babies in
some things--and a good skipper has to be like a father to them, to keep
them out of mischief. Don't know no better, doctor. You do, and it's
too strong, sir; it's too strong."
"Then let them leave it alone," said the doctor hotly.
"That's right, sir, but maybe they won't. Don't mean to say that I am
stupid over them, but when I get a good crew I like to take care of
them. Here, I'm getting out of breath. Can't make long speeches. Cut
it short."
"Then say no more about it," said the doctor.
"Nay, it won't do. Taking out a good crew of smart lads. Want to bring
them all back, not leave none of them sewed up in their hammocks and
sunk in the sea with a shot at their heels. Look here, sir; how many of
them there kegs have you doctored?"
"All of them. Why, my good fellow, you don't think I have put poison
in, do you?"
"Said you had."
"Pooh! Nonsense! My boy Rodd and I tried experiments to see how nasty
we could make the spirits without being dangerous. There's nothing
there that would hurt a man; only you mustn't tell them so."
"Oh-h-h! That's another pair of shoes, as the Frenchies say;" and the
skipper went up on deck.
"Thick-head!" growled the doctor. "Did he fancy I was going to kill a
man for meddling? Bah!"
"He did, uncle. He doesn't know you yet."
"Well, I suppose not, my boy, but I am beginning to think that we are
getting to know the crew pretty well by heart. Well, all we want now is
a favourable wind, then we will hoist our sailing flag; and then--off."
"For how long, uncle?"
"Ah, that's more than I can say, Rodd, my boy. We'll see what luck we
have, and how the stores last out. We'll get started, and leave the
rest."
Two days later the start had been made, with everything as ready as the
combined efforts of the doctor's and Captain Chubb's experience could
contrive, and with his face all smiles Dr Robson stood beside Rodd,
watching the receding shore as they, to use the skipper's words, bowled
down Channel.
"Good luck to us, Pickle, my boy!" cried the doctor. "It's been a long
weary time of preparation, but it has been worth it. We have got a
splendid captain--a man in whom I can thoroughly trust, and a crew of as
smart, handy, useful fellows as I could have wished for."
"Yes, uncle; and haven't they taken to all the arrangements about the
tackle!"
"Yes, Pickle. They have all proved themselves not only eager and
active, but as much interested as so many boys. Splendid fellows; and
old Chubb knows how to handle them too. Fetch my glass up, Pickle.
Let's have a look at the old country as long as we can."
Rodd darted off to the cabin hatch, but he staggered once or twice, for
the schooner as she rose and fell kept on careening a little over to
leeward, and in passing one of the sailors--a fine bluff-looking young
fellow--the man smiled.
"Here, what are you grinning at, Joe Cross?" cried Rodd, who, after many
months of intercourse with the crew, was fully acquainted with all, and
knew a good many of their peculiarities.
"Oh, not at you, Mr Harding, sir. It was a little bit of a snigger at
your boots."
"What!" cried Rodd.
"Just a little guffaw, sir. You see, the deck's as white as a holystone
will make it, and your boots is black, and black and white never did
agree. It's beginning to get a bit fresh, sir, and if I was you I'd
striddle a bit, so as to take a bit better hold of the deck with your
footsies. I shouldn't like to see you come down hard."
"Oh, I shan't come down," said Rodd confidently; but as he was speaking
the schooner gave a sudden pitch which sent the boy into the sailor's
arms.
"Avast there!" cried the man. "Steady, sir!--Steady it is! There, let
me stand you up again on your pins. You mustn't do that, or you'll have
the lads thinking you're a himmidge, or a statty, a-tumbling off your
shelf."
"Thank you. I am all right now," said Rodd. "My boots are quite new,
and the soles are slippery."
"I see, sir, but it wasn't all that. You see, our Sally's been tied up
by the nose for so many months in harbour yonder, that now she's running
free she can't hold herself in. Ketch hold of the rail, sir. That's
your sort! There she goes again, larking like a young kitten."
"I didn't know she'd dance about like this on a fine day," said Rodd
rather breathlessly.
"Bless your heart, sir, this arn't nothing to what she can do. See how
she's skipping along now. Aren't it lovely?"
"Well, yes, I suppose so," said Rodd; "but if it's like this in fine
weather, what's it going to be in a storm?"
"Why, ever so much livelier, sir. She'll dance over the waves like a
cork. She's a beauty, that's what she is. Mustn't mind her being a bit
saucy. There's nothing that floats like a Salcombe schooner, and I
never heard of one as sank yet."
"Yes, uncle; back directly!" cried the boy; and he made his way onward
to the cabin stairs without mishap, and re-appeared directly afterwards
with the doctor's big telescope under his arm, to make his way as well
as he could to where Uncle Paul was standing forward at the side with
his left arm round one of the stays.
"Walk straight, boy--walk straight!" cried the doctor, laughing. "What
made you zigzag about like that?"
"Didn't want to come down on the deck and break the glass, uncle," said
Rodd rather sulkily. "The schooner oughtn't to dance about like this,
ought she?"
"Oh, yes. It's no more than the lugger used to do when we have been out
fishing."
"Oh, yes, uncle; and she's so much bigger too. Besides, we were sitting
down then, and here one has to stand."
"You can sit down if you like," said Uncle Paul.
"What, and have the sailors laugh at me? That I won't! I want to get
used to it as soon as I can."
"Then go and get used to it," said Uncle Paul. "You can't do better. I
should like to do the same, but a man can't hop about at fifty, or more,
like a boy at fifteen."
"Why, uncle, I am nearly eighteen."
"Then go and behave like it, boy. Look at the sailors. They keep their
feet well enough, without seeming as if they are going to rush
overboard."
"Oh, I shall soon get used to it, uncle," cried Rodd.
But instead of improving that day his progress about the deck was
decidedly retrograde, for as the time went on and the Channel opened
out, the wind from the north-west grew fresher and fresher, and the
captain from time to time kept the men busy taking in a reef here and a
reef there.
Topgallant sails came down; flying jib was hauled in; and towards
evening, as she span along as fast or faster than ever, not above half
the amount of canvas was spread that she had skimmed under earlier in
the day.
Every now and then too there was a loud smack against the bows, and a
shower of spray made the deck glisten for a few minutes; but it rapidly
dried up again, and as the schooner careened over and dashed along, Rodd
stood aft, looking back through the foam to see how the waves came
curling along after them, as if in full chase of the beautiful little
vessel and seeking to leap aboard.
The sun had gone down in a bronzy red bank of clouds, and after being
below to the cabin tea Rodd had eagerly hurried on deck again, to find
that the sea around was beginning to look wild and strange.
Whether he made for Josiah Cross, or Joe, as he was generally called,
came up to him, Rodd did not know, but as he stood with one arm over the
rail he soon found himself in conversation.
"Are we going to have a storm?" he said.
"Well, I dunno, sir, about storm. More wind coming."
"How do you know?"
"How do I know, sir?" cried the man. "Why, if you come to that, I don't
know. Seem to feel it like. I don't say as it will. Wind's nor'-west
now, and has been all day, but I shouldn't wonder if it chopped right
round, and then--"
"There'll be a storm," said Rodd eagerly.
"Well, I don't say that, sir; but like enough there will be more wind
than we want to use, and we might have to put back."
"What, now that we have started at last?" cried Rodd.
The man nodded.
"Oh, that would be vexatious," cried Rodd, "to find ourselves back in
Plymouth again!"
"There, you wouldn't do that, my lad," said the man. "If we did have to
put back, I should say the skipper would run for Penzance. But there,
the wind hasn't chopped round yet, and it's just as likely to fall as it
gets dark and we will get our orders to hoist more sail."
But the sailor's first ideas proved to be right, and not only did the
wind veer round, but it increased in force and became so contrary and
shifty that during the night it began to blow a perfect hurricane, and
gave Captain Chubb a good opportunity of proving that he was no
fine-weather sailor.
It proved to be a bright night, being nearly full moon, with great
flocculent silvery and black clouds scudding at a tremendous rate across
the planet, while one minute the schooner's rigging was shadowed in
black upon the white, wet deck, at another all was gloom, with the wind
shrieking through the rigging, and the _Maid of Salcombe_ proving the
truth of the sailor's words, as she was literally dancing about; like a
cork.
"Hadn't you better come below, Rodd?" said the doctor.
"No, uncle; don't ask me. I couldn't sleep, and I want to look at the
storm. It's so grand."
"Grand? Well, yes," said the doctor; "but we could have dispensed with
its grandeur, and it seems very unlucky that after all these weeks of
glorious weather it should have turned like this. Ah, here's Captain
Chubb. Well, captain," he continued, "where are we making for? Mount's
Bay?"
"No. Give it up. Nasty rocky bit about there, so I laid her head for
Plymouth; but we shan't get in there to-night."
"Where then?" asked the doctor. "Wouldn't it be better to run for the
open sea?"
"No," said the skipper shortly. "This wind's come to stay, and we must
get into port for a bit. We don't want to get into the Bay of Biscay O
with weather like this. It's going to be a regular sou'-wester."
"What port shall we make for, then?" asked the doctor, while Rodd caught
all he could of the conversation, as the wind kept coming in gusts and
seemed to snatch the words and carry them overboard in an instant.
"Havre," grunted the captain laconically. There was silence for some
time, for it became too hard work to talk, but in one of the intervals
between two gusts, a few words were spoken, the doctor asking the
skipper if he was satisfied with the behaviour of the schooner.
"Oh yes," He grunted; "she's right enough."
"You are not disappointed, then?"
"No. Bit too lively. Wants some more cargo or ballast to give her
steadiness; but she'll be all right." All the same this was an
experience very different from anything that Rodd had had before, and it
was not without a severe buffeting that in the early dawn of the morning
Captain Chubb had succeeded in laying the little vessel's head off
Havre, so that, taking advantage of a temporary sinking of the wind, he
was able to run her safely into the French port, and this at a time when
it was a friendly harbour, the British arms having triumphed everywhere,
the French king being once more upon the throne, and he who had been
spoken of for so long as the Ogre of Elba now lying duly watched and
guarded far away to the south, within the rockbound coast of Saint
Helena.