About mid-day there was a sudden lull. The wind blew nearly as hard as
ever, but the clouds were broken up, allowing a few gleams of sunshine
to pass through, and soon after the sky seemed to be completely swept;
the streaming wharves and streets began to show patches of dry paving,
and nearly every vessel near was hung with the men's oilskins, Rodd
being one of the first to shed his awkward garments and come out looking
more like himself.
There was such a transformation scene, and all looked so bright in the
sunshine, that the boy took the first opportunity to ask the skipper
what he thought of it now.
"Just the same as I did before, my lad," he replied bluntly. "Here,
it's only mid-day, and mid-day aren't to-night, and to-night aren't
to-morrow morning. Just you wait."
"Oh, I'll wait," said Rodd, "but I think we ought to start off as soon
as we can, and get right away to sea."
"Do you?" said the captain gruffly. "Well, I don't."
After dinner Uncle Paul had a few words with the skipper, and then shook
his head at his nephew, who was watching them inquiringly.
"No, my lad," he said, "it won't do; the captain says there's more bad
weather coming; but we'll go and have a look round the town if you
like."
Rodd did like as a matter of course, and with the sun now shining
brightly as if there were no prospect of more rain for a month, they
were rowed ashore, Rodd noticing as they went that the crew of the brig
seemed to be very busy, a couple of boats going to and fro fetching
stores of some kind from the nearest wharf, but what he could not make
out.
Then came a good ramble through the busy place, where everybody seemed
to be taking advantage of the cessation of the storm, and Rodd noted
everything to as great an extent as a hurried visit would allow.
There was plenty to see, the forts, one each side of the harbour, and a
couple more on the higher ground, displaying their grinning embrasures
and guns commanding the harbour and the town, while soldiery in their
rather shabby-looking uniforms could be seen here and there, and
sentries turned the visitors back upon each occasion when they went
near.
"Rather an ugly place to tackle, Rodd, from the sea, but I suppose our
fellows wouldn't scruple about making an attack if there were any need.
But here, I think we had better get back on board."
"Oh, not yet, uncle. I haven't half seen enough."
"But I am getting sick of this tiresome wind," said Uncle Paul. "One
can't keep on one's hat, and it is just as if these gusts were genuine
French, and kept on making a rush at us from round the corners of the
streets as if they wanted to blow us into the harbour."
"Yes, it is rather tiresome," replied Rodd. "But I should have liked to
have had a look inside one of those batteries."
"Pooh! What do you want to see them for?"
"Why, just because they are French, uncle."
"Nonsense! You have seen all ours on the heights of Plymouth, and they
are a deal better-looking than these. We have a good way to walk, so
let's go down at once. There, look yonder."
"What at, uncle?"
"What at? Why, at the clouds gathering there in the wind's eye. You
see Captain Chubb's right, and we shall have the rain pouring down again
before long."
Rodd laughed as if he did not believe it, but making no farther
opposition, they began to descend towards the harbour; but before they
were half-way there the wind had increased to a furious pitch, the sea
became a sheet of foam, and with wonderful rapidity the clouds had
gathered overhead, till a black curtain was sweeping right over, and a
few heavy drops of rain began to fall. Then down came a drenching
shower, and they were glad to run for refuge to the nearest shelter,
which presented itself in the shape of a great barrack-like building
that seemed to be built about a square, and at whose arched entrance a
couple of sentries with shouldered muskets were pacing up and down.
As Uncle Paul and Rodd approached at a trot, with the intention of
getting under the archway, both sentries stopped short, and one of them
held his weapon across breast high, scowling fiercely, and barred their
way.
"Here, it's all right," cried Rodd. "We only want to shelter out of the
rain for a few minutes;" and he pressed forward. "Come on, uncle.
Never mind him!"
"_Halte la_!" cried the sentry.
But Uncle Paul's hand went to his pocket, and drawing out half-a-crown
he pointed quickly at the falling rain and the archway under which they
now stood, taking out his handkerchief the while, and beginning to brush
off the drops which bedewed his coat.
The man glanced at the coin, then at his brother sentry, and both looked
inward at the square behind them. The exchange of glances was very
quick, and then the first sentry opened one hand, but kept it very close
to his side, again looking inward to see that he was not observed,
before grumbling out--
"_Eh bien! Restez_!" And then as if perfectly unconscious of the bribe
he had received, he resumed his slow pace up and down under the shelter
of the great archway.
It was all a matter of minutes, but long enough for the wind and rain to
have gathered force, and while the former raved and shrieked, down came
the latter in a sheet, or rather in a succession of sheets which made
the roadways seem as if full of dancing chess pawns, and the gullies
turn at once into so many furious little torrents tearing down the
slopes towards the harbour.
"Nice, isn't it, uncle?" said Rodd merrily.
"Nice!" grumbled Uncle Paul. "I don't know what I was thinking about to
give way to you in such treacherous weather. Why, it's worse than ever.
How are we going to get back to the schooner?"
"Oh, it will soon be over, uncle, and if it isn't we must get to know
where the nearest place is from that sentry, and make a rush for it to
get some tea, and wait there till the shower is over."
"Shower!" said Uncle Paul. "It looks to me like a night of storm coming
on, and as if we shan't get back to the schooner to-night."
"Well, it doesn't matter, uncle," cried the boy coolly. "There's sure
to be a good hotel, and Captain Chubb will know why we haven't come
back. As soon as there's a bit of a lull we will make a run for it, and
we shall be able to get a lesson in French."
"Bah!" said Uncle Paul impatiently. "How the wind comes whistling
through this archway! We shall be getting wet even here."
The two men on guard were evidently of the same opinion, for they turned
to their sentry boxes and began to put on their overcoats, after
standing their muskets inside.
But before this was half done, each snatched up his piece again and
faced the entrance, for all at once there was the clattering of hoofs in
the cobbled paved street, and a cavalry officer, followed at a short
distance by a couple of men, dashed up to the front and turned in under
the archway, drenched with rain, the officer saying something sharply to
one of the sentries.
The man replied by pointing to a doorway at the back of the great
entrance, while the officer swung himself from his horse, threw the rein
to one of his men, and then lifting his sabre-tache by the strap he gave
it a swing or two to throw off the water from its dripping sides, and
then opened the great pocket to peer inside as if to see that its
contents were safe.
The next moment, as if satisfied, he let it fall to the full length of
its slings, gave a stamp or two to shake off the water that dripped from
him, and then raised his hands to give a twist to the points of his wet
moustache. He scowled fiercely at Rodd the while, and then marched
towards the doorway with the steel scabbard of his sabre clinking and
clanking over the stones.
"Pretty good opinion of himself, Pickle," said Uncle Paul quietly.
"Yes, uncle; but what a pair of trousers--no, I mean long boots--no, I
don't; I mean trousers.--Which are they, uncle?" added the boy, who was
rather tickled by the size and the way in which they were finished off
at the bottoms with leather as if they were jack-boots.
"Wait till he comes out, Pickle, and ask him," said the doctor dryly.
"No, thank you, uncle; my French is so bad," said the boy, with his eyes
sparkling. "But, my word, they must have been galloping hard to escape
the rain! Look at those poor horses. They are breathed."
Rodd had hardly spoken when they became fully aware that they had taken
refuge in the entrance to the town barracks, for the notes of a bugle
rang out, echoing round the inner square of the building, and seeming to
be thrown back in a half-smothered way from wall to wall, while the wind
and rain raged down more fiercely than ever.
"Something must be the matter," said Rodd, with his lips close to his
uncle's ear.
"Seems like it, boy. That officer must have brought a dispatch."
The object of the bugle was shown directly, for in spite of the rain the
interior of the barracks began to assume the aspect of some huge wasps'
nest that had suddenly been disturbed.
Soldiers came hurrying out into the rain, hurriedly putting on their
overcoats; the great arched gateway filled up at once with men seeking
its shelter, and the sentry who had received his half-crown came to
roughly order the English intruders to go elsewhere; but it was only
outside militarism, for he said in a low hurried tone in French--
"Run outside to the end of the barracks. Grand cafe."
"Come along, uncle. Never mind the rain," cried Rodd, catching at his
uncle's wrist, as he fully grasped the sentry's meaning; and stepping
outside the archway they ran together, or rather, were half carried by
the shrieking wind, for some thirty or forty yards, almost into the
doorway of a large lit-up building, for already it seemed to be almost
night.
"Never mind the rain, indeed!" grumbled Uncle Paul. "Why, I'm nearly
soaked. Oh, come, we have got into civilised regions, at all events;"
for a couple of waiters, seeing their plight, literally pounced upon
them and hurried them through the building into a great kitchen where a
huge fire was burning and the smell of cookery saluted their nostrils.
The attentions of the waiters of what was evidently one of the principal
hotels of the town were very welcome, and a glance teaching them that
their visitors were people of some standing, they made use of their
napkins to remove as much of the superabundant moisture as was possible,
and then furnished themselves with a fresh relay to operate upon their
backs.
"Queer, isn't it, uncle? I am quite dry in front. My word, how the
rain did come down!"
"Messieurs will dine here?" said one of the waiters smilingly.
"_Oh, oui, pour certain_" replied Uncle Paul. "If you don't mind,
Pickle."
"Mind, uncle? Oh, yes, of course. I am horribly hungry."
"You always are, my boy. Well, we must make the best of a bad
business," continued the doctor, as, nodding to the waiter, he moved a
little closer to the fire and turned his back, an example followed by
Rodd.
"It makes a dreadful time, monsieur," said the smiling waiter. "Will he
choose, or trust his servant to prepare a dinner upon the field of which
the English milor' will be proud?"
"You speak capital English," said the doctor, rather sarcastically.
"I have been many times in public in London."
"Ah, that's right. Then give us a snug little dinner while we dry
ourselves. But what's the meaning of all that upset at the barracks
next door?"
"It is not quite that I know, sir," said the man eagerly; "but two
officers came in upon the instant to put their cloaks where they should
not water themselves so much, and I hear them say, a dispatch come
quickly for monsieur the Governor to seize upon a ship. Oh, faith of a
man! Hark at that!"
For there was a sudden crash and an echoing roar, while some of the
utensils in the great kitchen clattered together, and a piece of
earthenware fell from a shelf upon the stone floor, to be shivered to
atoms.
"_Tonnerre, eh_?" said the doctor.
"_Non, non, monsieur_" cried the man, relapsing into his native tongue
for a moment. "It is what you English gentlemen call a great gun from
the fort; and look, look! The poor _cuisiniere_ much alarm, as you call
it."
For just then, as if catching the contagion from the shrieking of the
storm, one of the cook-maids threw herself back into a chair and began
to scream.
It was a busy scene for a few minutes while the frightened hysterical
woman was hurried out, while with the storm seeming to increase in
violence, and amid the trampling of armed men outside, who were hurrying
from the barracks, the two English visitors gradually picked up scraps
of information which explained the excitement that in spite of the storm
was going on outside.
"Messieurs would like to see," said the friendly waiter. "They will
come up-stairs to the long _salle_ whose windows give upon the harbour."
"But what's the matter?" cried Rodd. "Is there a wreck?"
"A wreck, sare?" said the waiter, shaking his head. "No, I know not
wreck."
"Has a ship come ashore and is breaking up?"
"Ha, ha! No, no, no, no, no, no, no! You would say _naufrage. Non,
non, non_! It is a sheep in the harbour; a foreign spy. They say it
has come to set fire to the town."
"Then they have chosen a very bad night for it," said Uncle Paul,
laughing.
"Monsieur is right. Nosing would burn. But the enemies of la France,
my great country, not stop to think of zat."
"Oh, but that must be a rumour, Rodd," said Uncle Paul uneasily. "Why,
surely they are not going to fancy that our English schooner is a spy
and an enemy!"