The days that followed the attempt to salve the brig after so strange an
introduction to her commander and his son, fell calm all through the hot
sunny time, and only that a pleasant cool breeze ushered in the evening
and continued till the sun rose again, very little progress would have
been made by the schooner and its consort, sailing east and south.
But nobody seemed troubled. When the French and English sailors were
together they were the best of friends; while long conversations and
arguments often took place between the doctor and his new friend, the
skipper generally letting them have the cabin to themselves.
Sometimes they drifted into political questions and came very near to
losing their tempers; but each mastered and kept down his opinions, for
a genuine feeling of liking had arisen between them, and the Count
seemed never weary of listening to Uncle Paul's disquisitions upon the
marvels of natural history, nor of studying with him the wonders of
creation which he had collected and had to show. Then day by day the
brig, which was freed every day from as much water as she had gained
during the night, sailed steadily on in the schooner's wake in full
charge of her stern fierce-looking French mate--one of the most silent
of men.
And while the Count was mostly with the doctor, literally taking lessons
in pelagic lore, the two lads had become inseparable.
"Look here," said Rodd, almost hotly, one day, "if ever you say a word
again about my helping you to escape at Dartmoor, you and I are going to
leave off being friends."
Morny laughed, a pleasant, almost girlish smile lighting up his well-cut
Gallic features.
"Why, Rodd," he cried, "isn't that rather hard? I used to think that
was the most horrible time in my life, but I feel now that one part of
it was the most delightful."
"There you go again," cried Rodd. "You are beginning."
"No, no, I wasn't. But I can't forget being a prisoner in England, and
about all that I went through there with my father when he was bad so
long with his wound."
"Bad so long with his wound?" said Rodd eagerly. "Ah! You may talk
about that. Yes, I should like to hear. Tell me all about your being
taken prisoners, and how it happened."
"For you never to be friends with me any more?" said the French lad
maliciously.
"No, no, no. But I hate for you to be what you call grateful. You are
quite a good sort of chap, and you speak our language so well that I
forget you are not English sometimes, till you begin to be grateful to
me for saving you, and then I feel that you are French. There, now you
may tell me all about it--I mean about before you met me fishing."
The two lads were under the awning upon this particular day just
amidships. It was a hot and breathless time, but both were pretty well
inured to the weather, and were so interested in the subjects supplied
to them by Nature in the way of floating wonders that they never
troubled themselves about the heat.
Upon this occasion they were lying together upon the deck, suffering to
a certain extent from lassitude consequent upon the heat. There was a
man at the wheel, and Joe Cross was seated upon the main cross-trees
with a spy-glass across his legs, ready to raise it from time to time
and direct it eastward to try and pierce the faint silvery haze that lay
low upon the horizon. The boys had grown very silent and thoughtful,
Moray trying to recall memories of the past so that he might respond to
his English friend's demand upon him that he should relate something of
his old experiences in connection with the war and his being brought
over to England, and so deep in thought that he paid no heed to his
companion. Meantime, Rodd, without any desire to play the eavesdropper,
lay listening to the scraps of conversation which came up through the
cabin skylight, growing a little louder than usual, for, as was
occasionally the case, an argument was afloat respecting the late war,
the doctor according to his wont growing wroth upon an allusion being
made by his guest to the ex-Emperor Napoleon; and there were evidently
threatenings of a storm, which was, however, suppressed by the grave
dignity of the Count and a feeling of annoyance which attacked Uncle
Paul upon realising that he had ventured upon dangerous ground.
"Oh, Uncle Paul," said Rodd to himself, and he lay and laughed softly,
making Morny start.
"Was I talking aloud?" said the French lad, flushing.
"You? No! Didn't you hear? It was Uncle Paul. Your father was
talking about Napoleon, and directly his name is mentioned uncle begins
to boil over."
"Ah, yes, so you have told me, and I gathered something of the kind. My
father should not have spoken about the Emperor, though he venerates his
name."
"Do you?" said Rodd.
"I?" replied Morny proudly. "Of course. He is the greatest man who
ever lived."
"I say; I'm not Uncle Paul."
"Of course not. But why do you say that?"
"Because it seems as if you were trying to lead me on, like your father
did with uncle."
"Ah, no, no, don't think that. Better to let such things rest."
"Yes," said Rodd. "I didn't hear much of what they were saying, only
they talked loudly sometimes about the way the French and English hate
one another. It seems so stupid. Why should they? I don't hate you;
and I suppose you don't hate me."
"Of course not! You have given me plenty of cause."
"Whoa!" shouted Rodd. "You are getting on dangerous ground again. Now,
look here; why should the French hate the English?"
"Because the English never did us anything but harm."
"Nonsense!" said Rodd coolly. "Now, look here, suppose you and I had a
good fight, and I got the best of it--gave you an unlucky crack on the
bridge of your nose, and made both your eyes swell up so that you
couldn't see."
"Well, it would be very brutal," said Morny. "Gentlemen should fight
with the small sword."
"Oh, I like that!" said Rodd merrily. "And then one of them sticks it
in the other's corpus and makes him bleed, if he does nothing worse.
Why, people have been killed."
"Yes, in the cause of honour," said Morny, slowly and thoughtfully.
"But that wouldn't have happened if they had been fighting with their
fists."
"It's of no use to argue a matter like this with an Englishman," said
Morny. "He cannot see such things with the eyes of a Frenchman."
"And a jolly good job too," said Rodd. "But we are running away from
what we have been talking about. I was saying, suppose you and I were
fighting and I hit you on the bridge of the nose and made your eyes
swell up so that you couldn't see; that would be no reason why you
should always hate me afterwards. Wouldn't it be much better if the one
who was beaten owned it and shook hands so as to be good friends again?"
"Hah!" said Morny, giving vent to a long deep sigh.
"Uncle Paul always says that there is so much good to do in the world
that there is no room for animosity or hatred, especially as life is so
very short. Here, I don't see that we English have done anything worse
to you French than conquering you now and then."
"What!" cried Morny. "What have you to say to the way in which you
treated your prisoners? You were never taken captive with your father--
I mean your uncle, and shut up in a great cheerless building right out
upon a cold, bleak, dreary moor."
"No," said Rodd gravely.
"My father and I were, after a sea-fight in which one of your great
bullying ships battered our little sloop of war almost to pieces and
took us into Plymouth, not conquered, for our brave fellows fought till
nearly all were killed or wounded."
"I say," cried Rodd earnestly, "I didn't know about this! Were you
wounded?"
For answer Morny with flashing eyes literally snatched up his
shirt-sleeve, baring his thin white left arm and displaying in the
fleshy part a curious puckering and discoloration, evidently the scar of
a bad wound.
"Poor old chap!" said Rodd softly. "I say, how was that done?"
"Grape-shot," replied Morny, drawing himself up proudly and deliberately
beginning to draw down and button his sleeve.
"Did it hurt much?"
"Yes," said Morny rather contemptuously. "My father was wounded too, so
that he had to be carried below, or else we should never have struck,
but he would have gone down as a brave captain should with colours
flying, fighting for the Emperor to the very last."
"Then I am precious glad that the Count was taken below," said Rodd.
"Why?" snapped out the French lad fiercely.
"Because of course you would have sunk with him, for you couldn't have
swum for your life with a wounded arm."
"No; but shouldn't I have had my name written in history?"
"Perhaps. But you and I would never have met and become such good
friends; for you know we are precious good friends when we can agree."
Morny laughed.
"Yes," he said pleasantly, "when we can agree. But do you think it was
good treatment to keep us shut up there as prisoners on that dreary
moor?"
"Let's see," said Rodd; "Dartmoor--all amongst the streams and tors, as
they call them?"
"Yes; a great granite desert."
"Oh, but it was very jolly there," said Rodd.
"I don't know what you mean by jolly," said Morny contemptuously.
"Why, they didn't keep you shut up. They let you roam about as you
liked, didn't they, as long as you didn't try to escape?"
"Well--yes; but it was a long time before I went out at all," replied
Morny sadly. "For months I never left my father's side, and for a long
time I never expected that he'd recover; and as I used to sit there by
his bedside, watching, I began to get to hate the English more and more,
and long to get away so as to begin righting for my country again. But
of course I couldn't leave my wounded father's side."
"No," said Rodd slowly and in a low voice, as if repeating the words to
himself. "Of course you couldn't leave your father's side."
"No," repeated Morny softly, "I couldn't leave my father's side. But
after a time he made me go. He said my wound would never heal--for the
surgeon had told him so--if he kept me shut up day after day, and that I
must go out with the other prisoners and roam about on the moor; but I
said I wouldn't leave him, and I didn't till he told me one day that I
was growing white and thin and weak, and that he could see how I was
suffering from the pain in my wound."
"Ah, yes," said Rodd, in a low tone full of earnestness. "It must have
given you terrible pain."
"And at last he said," continued Morny, "that if he saw me getting well
it would be the best cure for his injuries, but that if I were obstinate
and refused to obey him now that he was lying there weak and helpless,
it would surely send him to his grave."
"And then of course you went?" replied Rodd excitedly.
"Yes, I went then," replied Morny, "for at last I had begun to see that
he was right. And then every morning after we had been all mustered, as
you call it, and were free to go outside the gates, I went out with a
lot more right on to the wild desert. But I wanted to be alone, and as
soon as I could I wandered away up amongst the great stones, and sat
down to think and rage against myself for feeling so happy when I wanted
to be miserable and in despair about our fate. For it was as if
something within me was mocking at my sufferings and trying to make me
laugh and feel bright and joyous, for--Oh, how well I can remember it
all up there! The sun was shining brightly, and the great block of
stone upon which I sat down felt hot and so different to the cold
cheerless prison inside. Every here and there amongst the stones there
was the beautiful soft green grass, and little low shrubs were in full
blossom, some a of rich purple, and some of the brightest gold, while in
two or three places far up in the blue sky the _alouettes_ were singing
like they do in France; and every puff of soft warm wind that floated by
was scented with the sweet fragrance of that little herb--I forget its
name--that which the bees buzz about."
"Wild thyme?" said Rodd quickly.
"Ah, yes; wild thyme. And there for a long time I sat nursing my left
arm, fighting against what seemed to be a feeling of happiness, and
trying to think of all the evil that the English had done us, and what I
would do as soon as I got free. But it was too much for me. I couldn't
do it, and what I had looked upon from the prison windows from between
the bars would not seem to be the same wild stony desert, but beautiful
and full of hope and joy."
"Ah!" cried Rodd. "That's because you were getting better. I know what
you felt. I was like that once after a bad fever, and when I was taken
out one fine morning for the first time, though I was weak as a rat I
felt as if I must run and jump and shout all about nothing; but it was
because everything looked so beautiful, and I knew that I must be
getting well."
The boys' eyes met for a few moments, and then Morny bowed his head
slowly and went on.
"Yes," he said quietly, "I suppose it was a beautiful healthy place, and
it began to make me feel like that; and as I looked round--for I had
climbed very high--I could see right down into parts of a valley that
was all full of sunshine and flashing light, for there was a little
dancing stream running swiftly along, and as I looked down into it and
saw how it widened here and narrowed there as it flashed amongst the
great rocks of granite, it set me thinking about home, and instead of
going on planning how I would revenge myself upon the English, I began
to wonder whether there would be trout there too, and soon afterwards I
began to creep slowly down so as to see. And then I remember that I
burst out laughing at myself, for it seemed so droll. My legs would
keep on bending under me, and I had to sit down and rest every now and
then."
"You were so weak," said Rodd earnestly.
"Yes, that was it," cried Morny; "but I didn't understand at first, and
somehow I didn't seem to mind a bit, but sat down and rested time after
time, till at last I got right down to the edge of the little river, all
shallow and dotted with blocks of stone; and there at first were the
little trout darting about to hide themselves, scared away by my shadow
upon the water. But as I sat down to watch they soon came out again,
and began leaping at the little gnats that were flitting about the
surface. Then do you know how that made me feel?"
"Well," said Rodd, "I know how it would make an English boy feel--
myself, for instance."
"How?"
"As if he'd like to have my namesake with only one _d_ in his hand, and
begin whipping the stream."
"Yes, that's how I felt," said Morny softly.
"I know about those trout on Dartmoor," cried Rodd, "right up on the
moor. I know somebody who used to go and fish there, and he told me
that he could go and catch dozens and dozens and dozens of them whenever
he liked. But they were so very small."
"Yes," said Morny, speaking dreamily now, with his eyes so lit up, that
as Rodd watched his thin delicate face, he thought how handsome and
well-bred he looked.
"Too good-looking for a boy, but more fitted for a girl," he mused.
"And did you go and fish?" he cried, as he suddenly caught Morny's eyes
gazing at him questioningly.
"Oh yes. I went back to the prison and spoke to one of our guards--a
frowning, fierce-looking fellow--and I told him how ill my father was,
and that he never seemed as if he could eat the prison rations, as they
called them, and that I wanted to try and catch some of the little fish
on the moor and cook them, and try if I could tempt him with them."
"And what did he say?" cried Rodd, for Morny had stopped.
"He made my heart feel on fire at first, for he growled out `Bah!
Rubbish! There, go on in.' `Savage!' I said to myself. `Just like an
Englishman!'"
"What a brute!" cried Rodd. "But I say, old chap, our fellows are not
all like that."
"No," said Morny. "But I hadn't done. Next minute he shouted after me,
`Halt!' and when I stopped and looked round he called out, `Ahoy! Jim!'
and another of the guards with his piece over his shoulder marched up to
where we stood, and the man I had first spoken to turned to me and said,
`Here, you tell him what you said to me.'"
"And did you?" cried Rodd.
"I felt as if the words would choke me at first, but just then I seemed
to see the trout hot and brown upon a dish and my father, sick and pale,
looking at them longingly, and that made me speak to the other guard,
who was scowling at me. And as I spoke a grim smile came over his face,
and his eyes twinkled, and he showed his teeth. `All right, youngster,'
he said. `Got a rod?' I shook my head. `No line? No flies?' I shook
my head again and again. `All right, young 'un,' he said. `You come to
me two hours before sundown; I shall be on duty then. I'll set you up
with a bit of tackle. But I say, you Frenchies don't know how to throw
a fly!' `I used to,' I replied, `at home, in France.' `Lor', did you?'
he said. `Hear that, Billy? I never knew as a Frenchman knew how to
fish. But that's all right, youngster--only my ignorance. A
fisherman's a fisherman the wide world round.'"
"Well?" said Rodd, for his companion had stopped.
"Well?" said Morny.
"Go on."
"What about?"
"Well, you are a chap! Don't you know I was always very fond of
fishing?"
"I know you like fishing, for I saw you enjoying it that day when--"
"Steady!" cried Rodd.
"I've done," said Morny.
"But I don't want you to have done."
"Why, you forbade me to touch upon what you call dangerous ground."
"Bah! That's another thing. I don't want you to be grateful. But of
course I like to hear about you going fishing. I could almost wish that
you and I could go and have a few hours together on Dartmoor now."
"And we cannot," said Morny quietly.
"No; but we might try for bonito or dolphins. But go on. I want you to
tell me about how you got on. Did you go to that prison guard two hours
before sundown?"
"Oh yes. He was as friendly as ever he could be, just because he found
that I was fond of fishing, and lent me his rod and line and flies that
he made himself, and told me the best places to go to, and he was as
pleased as I was when I came back to the prison with a dozen and a half
of little trout. Oh, I remember so well almost every word he said."
"Well, what did he say?" cried Rodd eagerly.
"Oh, he was a good-humoured droll fellow, though he looked so gruff, for
when I showed him my fish he slapped me on the shoulder and said, `Well
done, young 'un! You are one of the right sort after all.' And then he
told me to take the fish into his quarters, and his missus, as he called
her, would cook them for me so that I could take them to my sick father;
and when I thanked him he said it was all right, and that he and his
`missus' had been talking together about how bad the French captain
looked, and that I had better get him a nice little dish like that as
often as I could."
Morny stopped again, and Rodd gazed at him impatiently.
"Here, I say," he cried, "what a tantalising sort of chap you are! Why,
I could tell a story better than you."
"Why, I have told you the story," said Morny.
"No, you haven't. You keep stopping short when you come to what
interests me most."
"Nonsense! You don't want me to go on telling you about catching more
fish and getting them fried day after day, and about taking them up to
my father."
"What do you know about it?" cried Rodd. "It's just what I do want you
to tell me. Did he like them and eat them, and did they do him good?
Those are the best bits."
"You are a droll of boy," said Morny, laughing.
"I'm a what?" cried Rodd.
"Droll of boy--_drole de garcon. C'est juste, n'est-ce pas_?"
"Oh, if you like," cried Rodd merrily; "but if you don't think those are
the best parts of the story, which are?"
"Ah!" said Morny thoughtfully. "The part that I remember most is
feeling that somehow things are not always so black as they look, that
Dartmoor was not such a dreary desert, and that the fierce frowning
guards were not so hard and unpleasant as they seemed. There were times
after that when I was very happy there, for my father's wound began to
get better, and I found myself strong and well again. But after a time
there was a new governor there, who behaved very harshly to the
prisoners, and as we got well the great longing for freedom used to grow
within us, and some of the men tried to escape. This made the governor
more harsh and stern. We were kept more shut up--"
"And I suppose that made you long all the more to get free?"
"Of course," replied Morny; "and at last there came a time when we heard
a little news from across the sea--news which seemed to make my father
the Count half wild with longing, and one day he told me that he had had
a lot of napoleons sent to him to help him to escape, and that the first
fine day we were allowed out for exercise upon the moor we would make a
dash for liberty."
"You should have done it when you were out fishing," said Rodd.
"Oh no. The fishing had been stopped for a long time--ever since the
first attempts had been made to escape."
"Oh, I see," said Rodd.
"And at last the day came," continued Morny, "and we made our attempt,
but only to find that we were very closely guarded, and that soldiers
were on the look-out in all directions; and in the attempt my father and
I became separated, and I should have been taken if it had not been
that--"
"Look here," cried Rodd, springing up, "there's Joe Cross signalling to
me from the maintop. He can see something. I say, that happened
luckily for you, young fellow, for you were just getting on to dangerous
ground."