NOLAN SHOWS HIS APTITUDE FOR COMMAND
The big ship was hopelessly astray in the fog and in the grip of a
black, unseen current that dragged at her keel and bulging beam, pulling
her inexorably landward towards the hidden rocks. Her commander felt
danger lurking in the fog, but was at a loss to know on which side to
look for it, at what point to guard against it. He was a brave man and a
master of seamanship in all the minute knacks and tricks of seamanship
of that day; but this was only his third voyage between London and the
St. Lawrence, and the previous trips had been made in clear weather. The
gale had blown him many miles out of his course, and lost him his
main-top-ga'ntsail yards and half of his mizzen-mast; the cold snap had
weighted ship and rigging with ice, and now the fog and the uncharted
deep-sea river had confused his reckoning utterly. But even so, he
might have been able to work his vessel out of the danger-zone had any
signal been made from the coast in reply to his guns and flares. Even if
after the arrival of the men from Chance Along on the beach at Nolan's
Cove, the heaps of driftwood had been fired, he might have had time to
pull his ship around to the north, drag out of the current that was
speeding towards the hidden rocks, and so win away to safety. There was
wind enough for handling the ship, he knew all the tricks of cheating a
lee-shore of its anticipated spoils, and the seas were not running
dangerously high. But his guns and flares went unanswered. All around
hung the black, blind curtains of the fog, cruelly silent, cruelly
unbroken by any blink of flame.
Black Dennis Nolan and his men stood by the frozen land-wash, along
which the currents snarled, and rolling seas, freighted with splinters
of black sea-ice, clattered and sloshed, waiting patiently for their
harvest from the vast and treacherous fields beyond. A grim harvest!
Grim fields to garner from, wherein he who sows peradventure shall not
reap, and wherein Death is the farmer! Aye, and grim gleaners those who
stand under the broken cliff of Nolan's Cove, waiting and listening in
the dark!
A dull, crashing, grinding sound set the black fog vibrating. Then a
brief clamor of panic-stricken voices rang in to the shore. Silence
followed that--a silence that was suddenly broken by the thumping report
of a cannon. The light flared dimly in the fog.
"Quiet, lads!" commanded the skipper. "Let the wood be till I gives ye
the word. She bes fast on the rocks, but she bain't busted yet."
"An' she'll not bust inside a week, i' this sea," said one of the men.
"Sure, skipper, the crew'll be comin' ashore i' their boats afore long.
An' they have their muskets an' cutlasses wid them, ye kin lay to that.
None but fools would come ashore on this coast, from a wreck, widout
their weepons."
"Aye, an' they'll be carryin' their gold an' sich, too," said the
skipper. "Lads, we'll do our best--an' that bain't fightin' an' killin',
i' this case, but the usin' o' our wits. Bill Brennen, tell off ten men
an' take 'em along the path to the south'ard wid ye. Lay down i' the
spruce-tuck alongside the path, about t'ree miles along, an' wait till
these folks from the ship comes up to ye, wid four or five o' our own
lads a-leadin' the way wid lanterns. They'll be totin' a power o'
val'able gear along wid them, ye kin lay to that! Lep out onto 'em,
widout a word, snatch the gear an' run fair south along the track,
yellin' like hell. Then stow the noise all of a suddent, get clear o'
the track an' work back to this Chance Along wid the gear. Don't bat any
o' the ship's crew over the head if ye bain't forced to it. The gear bes
the t'ing we wants, lads."
"Aye, skipper, aye--but will the sailormen be a-totin' their gear that
a-way?" returned Bill.
"Sure, b'y, for I'll tell 'em as we bes from Nap Harbor, an' I'll send
four lads to show 'em the way. After ye take their gear--as much as ye
kin get quick and easy--they'll follow ye along the path to try to catch
ye," replied Black Dennis Nolan.
Bill Brennen went up the twisty path to the barren, and along the edge
of the cliff to the southward, followed by ten sturdy fellows armed with
long clubs of birch-wood. Of the nine men remaining with the skipper,
six were sent, along with the gear, to hide behind the boulders and
clumps of bush on the steep slope. The skipper cautioned them to lie
low and keep quiet.
"Ahoy, there!" bellowed the skipper.
"Ahoy! Can't you show a light?" came the reply, from the fog.
"Aye, aye, sir. Bes ye on the rocks?"
"Lord, yes! Show a light, man, for Heaven's sake, so we can get the boat
away. Her back's broken and her bows stove in. She's breaking up quick."
The skipper and his three companions speedily made a small heap from the
big pile of driftwood on the shingle, and lit it from the candle of a
lantern. They poured a tin of seal-oil over the dry wreckage, and the
red and yellow flames shot up. It was evident to the men on the
land-wash that the unfortunate ship had escaped the outer menaces and
won within a hundred yards of the shore before striking. She was burning
oil now, in vast quantities, to judge by the red glare that cut and
stained the fog to seaward.
"What sort of channel?" came the question.
"Full o' rocks, sir; but it bes safe enough wid caution," cried the
skipper.
"Can't you show more light?"
"Aye, sir, there bes more wood."
A second fire was built still closer to the edge of the tide than the
first.
"Stand by to receive a line," warned the masterful voice from the ship.
A rocket banged and a light line fell writhing across the beach.
"Haul her in and make fast the hawser."
Black Dennis Nolan and his three companions were most obliging. They
pulled in the line until the wet hawser on the end of it appeared, and
this they made fast to a rock on the beach as big as a house.
A small light appeared between the ship and the shore, blinking and
vanishing low down on the pitching sea. The glare from the fires on the
land-wash presently discovered this to be an oil-lantern in the bows of
a boat. The boat, which contained about a dozen men, was being
hand-hauled along the line that ran from the wreck to the shore. Black
Dennis Nolan and his companions exchanged glances at sight of drawn
cutlasses and several rifles and pistols in the hands of the men from
the wreck. As the leading boat came within ten yards of the shore an
officer stood up in her bows. By this time the light of a second boat
was blinking and vanishing in her wake.
"Bear a hand to ease us off," commanded the person in the bows of the
boat.
"Aye, sir, we bes ready to help ye," replied the skipper, humbly.
"How is the landing?"
"It bes clear, sir--shelvin' rock."
"How many are you, there?"
"We bes four poor fishermen, sir."
The boat rowed in and was kept from staving in her keel on the land-wash
by Nolan and his men. The officer sprang from the bows to the icy
shingle, slipped and recovered himself with an oath. He was a huge
fellow. In one hand he carried an iron dispatch box, and in the other a
heavy pistol.
"This the lot of you?" he asked, glancing sharply at Black Dennis Nolan.
"Aye, sir, we bes only four poor fishermen," replied Nolan.
"I am glad to hear it. This coast has the name of being a bad place for
shipwrecked people to come ashore on."
"You bes talkin' of the coast 'round to the south o' Cape Race, sir. We
bes all poor, honest folk hereabouts, sir."
"Oh, aye," returned the other, drily.
By this time all the men were ashore and the boat was high up on the
shingle, out of reach of the surf. The men stood close around it. They
were well-armed, and kept a sharp look-out on all sides.
"What do you call this place?" asked the officer.
"Why, sir, Frenchman's Cove bes its name," replied the skipper.
Frenchman's Cove lies three miles to the south of Nolan's Cove; but the
skipper was cautious.
"Do you live here?"
"No, sir. There bain't no houses here. We bes four poor men from 'way to
the nor'ard, sir, a-huntin' deer on the barrens. We was makin' camp 'way
back inland, sir, when we heared yer guns a-firin'."
"How far away is the nearest village?"
"Why, sir, this country bes strange to me, but I's t'inkin' Nap Harbor
wouldn't be more'n ten mile to the south, fair along the coast. Bes I
right, Pete?"
"Aye, skipper, I be t'inkin' the same. Nap Harbor lays to the south,
maybe ten mile along, maybe less," replied Peter Nolan, a cousin of the
skipper's.
A second boat reached the shore and discharged its freight of humans and
small packages and bundles. This boat contained four sailors and ten
passengers. There were three women among the passengers. All were
clutching bundles of clothing or small bags containing their personal
possessions of value. One of the women was weeping hysterically.
"Could we get a passage 'round to St. John's from Nap Harbor?" asked the
officer.
"Aye, sir, I bes sayin' ye could. Sure there bes a fore-and-after i' Nap
Harbor," said Nolan.
"Will you guide us to Nap Harbor?"
"Aye, sir, that we will, an' glad to be o' sarvice to ye."
"We will pay you well, my good man," said one of the passengers, a tall
gentleman with a very white and frightened face, draped in a very wet
cloak. "In the meantime," he continued, "let us dry ourselves at these
fires and have something hot to drink. Where are those stewards, the
lazy dogs!"
Two more boats came from the ship to the shore without accident. In the
last to arrive were the captain and the doctor. The company gathered
round the fires, keeping their boxes and bags close to them. The
stewards and sailors brewed hot punches for all. The lady with the
hysterics was soothed to quiet by the doctor and a tiny mug of brandy
and boiling water. The officers held a consultation and decided to get
the passengers safely to Nap Harbor, and aboard a schooner for St.
John's and then to return to Frenchman's Cove themselves and salve what
they could of the cargo of the ship, which was evidently of unusual
value. (Black Dennis Nolan had expected this.) They would get help in
Nap Harbor for the work of salvage, and would leave the four boats on
the beach, under a guard of five seamen and the third officer. They had
brought food from the ship, and so they ate a substantial meal while
they warmed themselves and discussed their plans. But Captain McTavish
neither ate nor drank, so bitterly did he feel the loss of his ship. He
feared that even the moderate sea now running would break her up within
forty-eight hours.
Black Dennis Nolan vanished in the darkness many times in the
furtherance of his task of gathering wood for the fires. At last, after
he had covertly inspected all the bags, bundles and dispatch boxes, he
disappeared in the surrounding gloom and did not reappear at all. Dick
Lynch, a man of about his own size, shape and coloring,--one of the six
who had taken cover on the hillside--the firelight in his stead,
carrying a fragment of broken spar. The change was not noticed by the
men from the wreck.
Dry, warmly clothed, and inwardly fortified with food and drink, the
ship's company set off for Nap Harbor, carrying as much as they could of
their portable possessions, and led by four of the honest fishermen of
Chance Along. They left behind them the third mate, a sturdy youth armed
with two pistols and a fowling-piece, and five sailors armed with
cutlasses and pistols--and enough dry and liquid provisions to last the
guard for several days. They climbed the steep and twisty path that
connected the beach with the edge of the barren, and soon their lanterns
were lost in the fog. The third mate and his men brewed another generous
supply of rum punch, heaped more wood on the fire and lit their pipes.
By the time each had emptied his tin mug for the third time all felt
inexpressibly sleepy. Mr. Darling, the commander of the guard, counted
his men with a waving forefinger, and an expression of owlish gravity on
his round face. Then, "Daniel Berry, you'll stand the first trick," said
he. "Keep a sharp look-out and report anything unusual. Silas Nixon will
relieve you at eight bells of the middle watch."
So Daniel Berry got unsteadily to his feet and stumbled away from the
fire; but five minutes after his companions began to snore he returned
to his blankets by the fire and fell fast asleep. He would never have
been guilty of such a crime at sea; but ashore it was quite a different
matter. What was the use of a look-out ashore? The island of
Newfoundland was not likely to strike a reef or an iceberg. So he sank
deep into the slumber of the just and the intoxicated.
A dawn wind, blowing gently out of the west, began to thin and lift the
dripping fog. Out from the dark that hedged in the fire crawled six
vague shapes which, as they came into the illuminated zone, proved to be
Black Dennis Nolan and five of his men of Chance Along with ropes in
their hands. They stooped over the blanket-swathed sleepers, working
quickly and cunningly with the ropes. They also bandaged the eyes and
mouths of the unconscious mariners with strips of blanket. By this time
the light on the stranded ship was burning low. The skipper and his
companions examined the four boats, dragged one of them down to the edge
of the tide and launched it. The fog was thinning swiftly, and a gray
pallor was spreading in the east and south. They manned the boat and
pulled out for the wreck, following the dripping hawser.
The wreck lay across a sunken rock, listed heavily to port. Her spars
were all over the side, a tangled mass washing and beating about in the
seas. A snag of rock had been driven clean through the timbers of the
port-bow. Black Dennis Nolan and his companions managed to get aboard at
last. A fire of rags and oil still burned in an iron tub on the main
deck. They went forward to the galley for a lamp, and with this entered
the cabins aft. Dennis Nolan led the way. The captain's room was empty.
They found and examined the quarters of the passengers. Clothing and
bedding were tossed about in disorder, and it seemed that everything of
value had been collected and carried away. They gathered up a couple of
silk gowns and a fur-lined cloak, however. The skipper was shaking out
the sheets from a berth when he felt something strike the toe of his
boot. He stooped quickly, recovered a small box bound in red leather,
and slipped it in his pocket. The others had observed nothing of this.
In another cabin, they found the passengers' heavy baggage packed in
about a dozen big leather boxes. They carried these to the main deck
without waiting to open them. By this time the dawn was an actual,
dreary-gray fact, and the fog was no more than a thin mist.
"Now for the cargo, lads," said the skipper.
They removed the tarpaulins from the main hatch, and broke it open. With
the lamp in his left hand, the skipper descended into the hold by way of
the stationary iron ladder.
"Pianeys," he shouted.
"Hell!" exclaimed the men on deck, in voices of disgust.
The skipper returned to the deck, after about ten minutes in the hold.
"The cargo bain't o' no use to us, lads," he said. "Pianeys, engines,
an' fancy-goods."
They broke open the lazarette and found several cases of wines and
brandy, and a quantity of provisions of superior quality. They lowered
the passengers' baggage into the boat and pulled ashore through the
spouting, slobbering rocks and reefs. In a second trip they salvaged the
spirits and provisions. They carried boxes, cases and crates up to the
barren, and hid them in a thicket of dense spruce-tuck, and concealed
their gear of lines and boat-hooks in the same place.
"She'll last a good few days yet, if it don't blow up a gale," said the
skipper, waving his hand towards the wreck, "and maybe we'll come back
an' get some pickin's. But we bain't wantin' to raise any suspicions."
He loosened the bindings at Mr. Darling's wrists, so that they could be
worked off in time, and then set out briskly for Chance Along with his
three companions at his heels.
Of the future of the ship's company little need be said. On their way to
Nap Harbor they were set upon and robbed by a large force of big men.
Their valuables vanished into the fog and darkness, as if they had never
been--and their guides vanished also. They went on, following the edge
of the cliff, and reached Nap Harbor about two hours after dawn. From
Nap Harbor they sailed northward to St. John's, and there reported the
robbery to the police. The police calmed them with promises, and in time
sent officers to Nap Harbor armed with search-warrants. Needless to say,
the jewels and money were not found. Captain McTavish did not return to
Nolan's Cove to salve the cargo of his ship, for the agent in St. John's
explained to him that the task would be a profitless one. A few days
later he was joined by Mr. Darling and the five men of the guard, and
eventually they all sailed away. But the tall gentleman with the white
face and the long cloak left a sting behind him. He was Sir Arthur
Harwood, Baronet, and the lady who had wept hysterically, and been
quieted by the ship's surgeon, was Lady Harwood. By the wreck these two
had lost much of value in clothing, jewelry and money; but their
greatest loss was that of a necklace of twelve flawless diamonds and
fourteen rubies. Sir Arthur offered a reward of five hundred pounds for
the recovery of this necklace. In this reward lay the sting.
In the little retiring harbor of Chance Along, Black Dennis Nolan was a
great man. His plans had worked without a hitch--and still the carcass
of the ship lay in Nolan's Cove, only waiting to be picked. A rich
harvest had been gathered without the loss of a life, and without
attracting a shadow of suspicion upon Chance Along. The skipper called
together the twenty men who had shared with him the exertions and risks
of that night. This was in his store, with the windows obscured by
blankets, the door bolted and the lamp lit.
"Lads," said he, "here bes twelve hundred golden sovereigns. I makes 'em
into twenty-four shares o' fifty each. Now, lads, step up an' each take
a share."
The men obeyed, their eyes glowing and their hands trembling.
"Now there bes four shares still on the table," said the skipper.
"Aye, skipper, aye," stammered Bill Brennen, huskily. The others
breathed heavily, shuffled their feet, gripped the money in their
pockets and glared at the yellow pieces still glowing in the lamplight.