It was about a fortnight later, during which time, in deliciously calm
weather, the two vessels had been cruising here and there, to the great
satisfaction of the doctor, who was in a high state of delight, for he
had been harvesting, as he termed it--bottling, Joe Cross said--
numberless specimens of the strange creatures that swarm upon the
surface of the southern Atlantic. And as they had got out so far, the
doctor had been sounding Captain Chubb as to the possibility and
advisability of making for that strange volcanic island known as
Trinidad--not the richly verdant island of the same name that seems as
if it had been once a portion of the north-east shoulder of
leg-of-mutton-like South America, but the solitary island right away
south-east from Bahia, which stands lonely in the ocean, the remains of
the great volcanic eminence swept by the terrific seas and tempests that
come up from the South Polar Ocean--an island that is the habitat of
strange sea-birds, the haunt of fish, and the home and empire of those
most hideous of the crustaceans, the land crabs.
Captain Chubb grunted and said he would think about it and consult the
chart. As for the brig, Rodd did not banter Morny upon the subject when
he came aboard, as he did pretty well every day when Rodd and his uncle
had not visited the brig; but it was a standing joke between the lad and
Uncle Paul that King Dagobert had not sighted the sea-serpent as yet.
"And it's my belief, Pickle, that they are going the wrong way to work."
"Why, what would you do, then, uncle?"
"Well, I'll tell you, my boy. He's a very shy bird, and if he knows you
are looking for him he won't show. If you and I take up the search I
tell you what we'll do; we won't look for him; we'll let him look for
us."
"According to that, then, uncle, we are more likely to find him than
they are."
"Of course, my boy. Why, haven't we proved it?"
They were down in the laboratory, where Joe Cross had been helping them
over the bottling, but he had gone up on deck, the day's task being
over, and the skipper now came down, looked and snorted at the fresh
regiment of bottles, and made some remark about the doctor seeming out
of spirits. But he did not mean it for a joke. Captain Chubb never did
joke, for he was one of those men who pass their lives looking out for
squalls, and his allusion was to the emptiness of the doctor's set of
kegs.
"Well, it doesn't matter," said the doctor. "Sit down and let's talk.
I have got quite as many preparations in spirits as will last me for
years. By the way, did you think any more about Trinidad?"
"Deal," said the skipper shortly, and he gave the fixed table a rap with
a roll of paper which he had brought down tucked under his arm. "Here's
the chart."
"Well?" said the doctor, wincing, as the skipper unrolled the map on the
dresser-like table, and catching up first one specimen bottle and then
another used them as paper-weights to keep the chart flat, while he
began to operate with his big rough, brown, index finger.
"Here y'are," he said, "and its character written about it: currents,
shoals, stormy seas, all kinds of dangers. Bad landing-place; very
rocky--place if you go to you ought to stop away."
"Sounds hopeful; eh, Pickle?"
"Oh, but curious, uncle. I should like to go."
"Well, then, you won't," said the skipper gruffly, "because your uncle's
too wise to tell me to risk the schooner in such a sea."
"Humph!" grunted the doctor.
"I'll obey your orders, sir, and sail anywhere," continued the skipper,
frowning very heavily, "but it's my duty to tell you when you are going
wrong."
"Of course," said the doctor, "and as you give the place such a bad
character, captain, we'll disappoint Rodd and stay away."
"Right," cried the skipper. Then after drawing a deep breath he looked
fiercely at Rodd, and then glared at the doctor, who opened his eyes a
little, wonderingly.
"Do you know where you are now?" said the skipper.
"Well, not exactly, only that we have been on ground rich in objects
such as I wish to collect, and--excuse me, captain--that bottle--your
elbow. I wouldn't have an accident to that for the world."
"Well, then," continued the skipper, very gruffly, as he dabbed his big
finger down in the middle of the chart, "you are here."
"Saint Helena," said Rodd, after a quick glance at the chart.
"Right," grunted the skipper. "Now, Dr Robson, am I to speak out, or
will you send young Mr Rodd here up on deck first?"
The doctor stared.
"I see no reason for sending my nephew away," he said coldly. "He and I
have the fullest confidence in one another."
Rodd, who was standing leaning over the map, moved very slightly, but
somehow his left hand stole on to his uncle's shoulder.
"Right, then," said the skipper harshly. "It is my duty, Dr Robson, to
tell you that you are in a false position."
"Then, Captain Chubb, as my navigator in whom I have the most perfect
trust, it is my duty to tell you that you ought to be on deck sailing us
out of it as soon as you can."
"Come down here on purpose," said the skipper shortly, "and here goes.
Now then, doctor, you are such a busy man, and you are so wrapped up in
your fads about natural history and that sort of thing, that anybody
artful could take you in and cheat you as easy as swallowing a
gooseberry."
"Well, you have a nice opinion of me, Captain Chubb!"
"I have, sir--a splendid opinion of you," cried the skipper, "and I'd
say it before all the judges in the land--I mean at home--that there was
never a more straightforward gentleman made than you. I'd do anything
for you."
"Hear, hear! Bravo, Captain Chubb!" cried Rodd. "What about me?"
"You, youngster? Well, you aren't half a bad 'un as boys go. But look
here, doctor; time's come for me to speak out. You are a bit too
innocent."
"Am I? Well, captain, that's better than being a bit too guilty; eh,
Rodd?"
"A deal, uncle. But what's the matter, captain?"
"Why, this here, my lad. I can't stand still no longer and see your
uncle being made a cat's-paw of."
"Cat's-paw, eh, captain?" said the doctor. "Let's see, that means to
fetch the roasted chestnuts out of the fire. This must apply to you,
Master Rodd."
"To me, uncle?" cried the boy, aghast.
"Yes; I don't know anybody else whom Captain Chubb looks upon as a
monkey."
"Nay-y-y! I mean that there French Count."
"Stop!" cried the doctor sternly. "Mind what you are saying, Captain
Chubb. Count Des Saix is my friend--a gentleman, a nobleman."
"I dessay he may be at home," said the skipper, meeting Rodd's indignant
eyes, "but he aren't a gentleman, or he wouldn't be making such a tool
of you. Now, don't you put yourself in a fury, doctor, or you'll be
saying words you'll be sorry for arter. A gentleman like you as thinks,
and is scientific too, has no business to go in a passion. That's all
very well for a skipper as has got to manage a lot of awkward sailor
chaps; if he didn't use words sometimes there'd be no getting a ship
along. But you have got to take it cool like a Ann Eliza, and hear it
right through, and then set yourself down and judge according."
"But look here, Captain Chubb," said the doctor angrily, "I cannot be
silent and let you malign my friend."
"He aren't your friend, sir; he's only a Frenchman, and though I've done
my duty by him right through, I allers felt as if I couldn't trust him."
"Why not?" said the doctor hotly.
"Because he being a natural born enemy of an Englishman, it didn't seem
right that he should pretend to be such a friend of yourn."
"Why not, sir?" cried the doctor warmly.
"Now, none of that, doctor. I did warn you about not getting put out.
Don't you call me, _sir_, 'cause I don't like it."
"Look here, Captain Chubb," cried the doctor, "I am sure you mean well."
"Thankye, sir; I do."
"Then why have you taken this prejudice against the Count?"
"That's a straight question, sir. Now let me ask you one. What's he
doing here?"
"Upon some kind of research."
"Not him, sir! That's what he's told you, and it aren't honest. He's
carrying on a game of his own behind you; and the boy's as bad as the
old man."
"How dare you!" flashed out Rodd.
"Silence, Rodney!"
"I can't be silent, uncle. I won't stand here and listen to such an
outrageous charge against those two gentlemen. I don't know what has
come to Captain Chubb, but he ought to be made to apologise before he
leaves this place."
"Well, he aren't going to be made to, young pepper-caster," growled the
captain. "Honest men don't apologise for telling the truth, even if it
don't taste nice."
"Look here, Chubb," said the doctor, "we are having too many words.
Let's have a clear understanding about what you think."
"Right, sir. Let's get to the bottom of it at once. You want an
explanation. It's this now. I have been very suspicious from the
first. What about this 'ere Count and his son? First you knowed of 'em
was as they was prisoners at Dartmoor. Well, it sounds bad for a man to
be a prisoner, but as he was took in war that don't count for much, so
we'll let that go. Next thing is, you runs agen 'em at Havre, cutting
their cable and running for it when Government gives orders for them to
stop. Next thing is, they boards our schooner like a set of pirates,
only we seem too many for them; and then they cackles up a cock-and-bull
story about wanting help, when they see they couldn't seize the
schooner."
"Look here, Captain Chubb--" began the doctor.
"Give me my chance, sir, and let me finish, and then have your say.
Help they had, and plenty on it, and I will say that a nicer, more
gentlemanly-tongued chap than the Count I never met, nor had to do with
a pleasanter nor nicer young fellow than his son."
"Thank you," said Rodd sarcastically.
"Now, don't you sneer, youngster," growled the captain, "for it aren't
clever, nor it aren't nice. Well, now, doctor, we all went through a
deal all along of these Frenchies, for I don't see how it could have
happened if it hadn't been for them."
"Why, you took us up the river, captain," cried Rodd indignantly.
"That's true, sir, but it was to do the best for their leaky brig, and I
made her as good a craft as ever she was; so you needn't chuck that in
my teeth."
"Be silent, Rodney, and let the captain speak."
Rodd gave himself a snatch and clenched his fists.
"Well, sir, to make a long story short, the Count gammoned you into
keeping company with him, and brought you here--here, of all places in
the world--here, to Saint Helena," and he thumped the chart just where
the island was marked.
"Yes," said the doctor thoughtfully--"here, to the neighbourhood of
Saint Helena; upon a scientific research."
"Scientific research!" growled the skipper scornfully. "Look here, sir,
don't you be so innocent. You make me wild. What's this 'ere Count? A
Frenchman, aren't he?"
"Well, plenty of clever Frenchmen have followed science," said the
doctor indignantly.
"Chinese too, sir, though they can't dress like Christians," cried the
skipper. "But just you tell me this 'ere, sir; who lives at Saint
Helena? Don't old Bony? Him as we shut up like the warlike lunatic he
is, to keep him out of mischief?"
"Well, yes," said the doctor, much more suavely; "there is something in
that."
"I should think there is, sir! Haven't I heard you carry on dozens of
times about what a bad 'un he's been to the whole world?"
"Yes, yes, Chubb; I certainly do entertain strong feelings against that
tyrant and usurper."
"You do, sir. I've heard you say things at times as have sounded
red-hot."
"And I'm not ashamed of them, Captain Chubb," cried the doctor warmly.
"'Shamed on 'em! Not you, sir! They're a honour to you as an English
gentleman. Not much of the innocent in you about that."
"Thank you, Captain Chubb; thank you," said the doctor.
"Oh, uncle!" cried Rodd, between his teeth.
"You let your uncle alone, youngster; I aren't done with him yet. Now
then, doctor, your eyes aren't quite open now, but you are beginning to
peep. Now, just have the goodness to tell me what you are a-doing here
at Saint Helena--a place that a gentleman with your sentiments ought to
have kept clear of like pison."
"Well," cried the doctor, warming up again, "you know I have accompanied
my friend the Count upon his scientific expedition."
"Your friend the Count, sir! His scientific expedition!" snarled the
skipper. "Do you call old Bony a scientific expedition?"
"I don't understand you, captain."
"Then here you have it, sir, plain. Your friend the Count is a Bony
party, and as the French Government knew what game he was on and tried
to stop him from running out of Havre, when he come upon us and found
out what we were doing, `Here's my man,' he says; `I will just creep
under his cloak and carry on my little game to carry off Bony. No one
will suspect me if I am in good company, and on what he calls scientific
research.' Consekens, here's you, sir, off the island of Saint Helena
in co and company with this 'ere Bony party come to carry off and set
free the man of all others you hate most in the world. Now you
understand what you have come to do."
"I'll be hanged if I have!" cried the doctor, bringing his fist down
with a tremendous thump upon the table, making one of the bottles leap
up, fall over upon its side, and discharge its stopper at Rodd, who
fielded it cleverly, though the contents--gelatinous infusoria and
spirit of wine--were scattered all over the map.
"That's spoke like you, sir," cried the skipper; "but you needn't have
spoiled my chart."
"Confound your chart, man! Here, Rodney, you hear all this? Do you
think it's true?"
"No, uncle, I can't."
"Neither can I, sir. I cannot. I will not. You, Captain Chubb, you
mean well, I know, but--Oh, it's outrageous! That I, Paul Robson, a man
of my sentiments, should come to do such a disloyal thing as this--
this--this--this treachery against my country and my King! Here,
Captain Chubb, are you mad, or--"
"Drunk, sir? Say it out. I don't mind. It does me good to see you
come to your senses like this. Brayvo, sir! That's the way to take
it."
"Oh, uncle!" panted Rodd.
"You let him alone, sir. He's all right," cried the skipper. "I've
stuck the harpoon into him. You give him line, and you'll see we shall
have him in his flurry directly."
"Stop, man! Where are your proofs?"
"Yes," cried Rodd, stamping excitedly about the cabin; "where are your
proofs?"
"Proofs?" said the skipper. "I d'know. Yes, I do. You ask the Count
to his face, and his boy with him, whether what I say aren't true."
"Yes," cried the doctor. "Go on deck, and take that confounded speaking
trumpet of yours. Hail the brig, and ask the Count to come on board."
"Yes--with his son!" stormed Rodd. "How can I? They went off this
afternoon on some game or another, and haven't been in sight since."
"Hah!" said the doctor, fanning himself with one hand, wiping his face
with the other, and then shaking his bandanna silk handkerchief up and
down to try and get cool. "There, I am not going to be in a passion,
Rodney. I am not going to say angry words to you, Chubb, for you
believe all this, while I--I--I can't believe it. The Count is too
grand a gentleman to have made a--a--what you said, of me. But I will
have this matter cleared up, and you will have to apologise to me and
the Count."
"And to Viscount Morny des Saix," cried Rodd.
"Yes, my boy; exactly," said the doctor; and then to the skipper--"If
you are wrong!"
Saying this, he literally stamped out of the cabin.
"Where are you going, uncle?" cried Rodd, following.
"Up on deck, my boy," cried the doctor, without turning his head. "I
feel like a furnace, and if I speak any more words they'll be like the
skipper said--red-hot."
"Well," said the captain, as he stood staring towards the cabin stairs,
"I never see'd the doctor with his monkey up like that afore. Anyhow,
he aren't afraid to trust me with his bag of tricks down here, and
bottles of mixture. But he needn't have spoiled my chart!"