ON THE _RAMPALLO_
Whenever I read of an actor playing for the first time a part which
is to make or mar his reputation, my thoughts fly back to that wet
squally evening on the Lisbon water-front. The big warehouse with its
piles of varied merchandise; the curiously composite smell with its
predominating scent of hay; the creaking of the tall slide doors at the
front as the wind dashed at them and whistled through the crevices and
whispered and rustled in the cavernous gloom of the building, the hiss
and spume of the waters of the bay, and Burroughs, Bryant and I grouped
together by the smaller door as I stood listening intently for the cue
to “go on.”
I was, and yet was not, nervous. That is, I was sure of myself and
confident of success, was quite cool, and had not a thought of
shrinking from the scene to be played; but at the same time my pulses
were beating very fast, my tongue was dry, and I kept moistening my
lips and biting them, and I could not keep my hands still nor my
fingers from fidgetting, and I am sure I was very pale.
I knew that success or failure might turn upon my giving the signal to
leave the shed at exactly the right moment. If I went too soon, the men
waiting at the end of the narrow passage would know the king had not
had time to pass through the shed from the launch. If I delayed too
long, the king himself might come out before the “abduction” had taken
place.
Yet I had nothing to guide me. After the whistle of the launch we could
not hear a sound to indicate what was passing--the racket of the wind
made that impossible. Had I foreseen this, I saw how simply I could
have avoided this perplexity. A hole or two bored in the big gates or
a brick loosened in the partition wall between the two sheds would
have sufficed; and I cursed my stupidity in having lost sight of the
precaution.
“Can you hear anything?” I whispered to Burroughs, but both he and
Bryant were in the same dismayed perplexity as I.
“There seems a hitch somewhere,” he whispered back.
“Well, I shan’t wait any longer,” I decided a moment later, and I
opened the door with as little noise as possible.
It creaked horribly on the hinges, however, and jammed half-way, and I
caught my breath, fearing that the wrench I had to give it must surely
be heard by those in the adjoining shed. Then the wind came rushing
through with most disconcerting violence; and I only just succeeded in
preventing the door from slamming to with a tell-tale bang.
“A bold face on it, and we shall soon know,” I said as we started
through the drenching rain squall.
Burroughs went in front with Bryant close to his side, while I kept
behind as I did not wish the man who was on the look-out to see that
there were two replicas of the king’s august person.
The rain gave us invaluable help, for it rendered impossible any exact
recognition of us by the man on the watch.
We walked some ten yards along the narrow passage before he even saw
us. Then he waved his whip, jerked at his horses, and began to back
them past the end of the building to our left.
At that moment the strenuous excitement was relieved by a touch of
the ludicrous. In the preoccupation of the period of suspense I had
forgotten to stick on the false moustache without which any imposture
would have been instantly detected.
I called to the others to halt a moment, and fishing the thing out of
my pocket I dabbed it on, and had to hold it in its place by crinkling
my upper lip against my nose.
Burroughs and Bryant turned back; and I pulled my felt hat well down
over my face, held my head down as if to avoid the pelting rain and
hurried on alone.
On reaching the corner I purposely quickened my pace, and as I
turned, something was thrown over my head, a hand was clapped to my
mouth--outside the cloak fortunately, otherwise it might have been my
moustache only which would have been abducted--and I was lifted off my
feet and carried bodily away.
I made a pretence of struggling.
“No harm will happen to you unless you resist or try to cry out,” said
a voice sternly.
I felt I could safely desist, therefore, and let them carry me the
rest of the distance to the launch, where I was placed in the little
deckhouse with a couple of men to hold me down.
I made another feeble struggle then, and once more I was ordered with
threats to lie still.
In the struggle I managed to get my hands up to my face and luckily
found the moustache which I stuck on again.
Almost immediately afterwards, I was turned face downwards, and
the covering cloak or cloth or whatever it was, was pulled back
sufficiently to allow of a revolver being thrust against my head.
“If you dare even to look round, I shall fire,” said the same voice,
and I replied with an appropriate shiver of fear. I chuckled as I
realized that the men were as anxious I should not see their faces as
I was that they should not see mine.
Next I felt a hand on my forehead, my face was lifted an inch or two,
and a thick wide scarf, in which a gag was fastened, was wound twice
round my head and fastened at the back, and then my hands were tied
behind me.
It was extremely uncomfortable, of course, and I had great difficulty
in breathing, but that was all. A very small discount from the success
which I had scored.
After that I was left to my own meditations, and I guessed that I was
not one whit less excited or ill at ease than my captors. My one qualm
was whether the scarf would be taken off before I was left in the
cabin which was in readiness for me on the _Rampallo_. If it was, then
the confounded moustache would assuredly go with it and that farcical
incident might prove to be the curtain raiser to a very serious drama
and possibly a tragedy.
But the men’s unwillingness to let me see their faces was a fact of
auspicious promise, and I judged that their reluctance would not
lessen until they were practically certain their desperate venture had
succeeded. So long as failure was a possible contingency, it would be
practicable for them to make a bolt of it in a body, with much less
risk of recognition than if “His Majesty” had seen that his abductors
were officers whom he knew well by sight and probably by name.
Nor could they be absolutely certain of success until the _Rampallo_
was many knots on her way to Oporto. They would naturally calculate
that the abduction would be discovered almost at once; and were no
doubt afraid that the authorities would be roused to prompt and
energetic action, with the result that the yacht might be stopped
before she could get out of the river.
I persuaded myself, therefore, that the risk of my impersonation being
detected was over for some hours at least, and as this was the most
comforting thought for me, there was no good purpose to be gained by
anticipating trouble.
The launch was a vile sea boat. She kicked about and tossed and pitched
like the ill-behaved cockle-shell she was, and, as I was powerless to
help myself, I rolled about the floor like a bale of goods or a very
intoxicated monarch; and the man in charge understood neither how to
manage her properly nor how to make matters easier for his “king.”
I was heartily glad, therefore, when we bumped alongside the _Rampallo_
and I was hoisted aboard. They handled me with all the clumsiness of
nervous amateurs, and I think that was the moment of my greatest peril,
for the launch danced and bobbed about so much that they nearly dropped
me into the river.
But they did not unfasten the scarf, and I was taken below into a
cabin, laid on the berth, my hands still tied and the gag in position,
and locked in.
Had they peeped in a few minutes later they would have been
considerably surprised. They were as great bunglers in tying my hands
as they were in managing the launch, and I had not the least difficulty
in wriggling my arms free. A vigorous tug tore off the head-gear,
wig, and all, and as there were a couple of serviceable bolts on the
door I shot them home softly, and indulged in the luxury of unimpeded
breathing. It had not occurred to them apparently, that “His Majesty”
might be quite as anxious to keep them out of the cabin as they were to
keep him in; otherwise they would have removed the door fastenings.
Then I closed the porthole and covered it over, took off the
shot-weighed shooting rig, and with my revolver ready at hand, I threw
myself at full length on the bunk to cool and wait for the next act.
I was in darkness, of course, but by feeling the hands of my watch I
found the time to be just nine o’clock. It would be dawn between four
and five; and I had thus some seven or eight hours to wait before
signalling to Burroughs on the _Stella_. I was now quite easy in mind
about the issue, and as no one could enter the cabin without making
noise enough to wake me, there was no reason why I should not go to
sleep.
The yacht was under weigh almost as soon as I was placed in the cabin
and, so far as I could gauge the speed, was making no more than from
ten to twelve knots.
I was just dropping off to sleep when some one tried the door and was
apparently very much astonished to find it fastened on my side. It must
have seemed something like a conjuring trick for a “king” gagged and
bound, as I was, to have accomplished such a feat.
I took no notice, of course. There was some whispered consultation
followed by more knocking and more whispering, and then I was left at
peace. They concluded, no doubt, that as they could force the door
at any time, there was no use in doing so until we were near Oporto;
and that if I preferred to remain gagged, instead of allowing them to
release me, the “royal” prerogative entitled me to punish myself.
Anyhow, they went away and I went to sleep, and did not wake until
the dawn was breaking. I had very little doubt that I passed a more
comfortable night than any one else on the yacht.
I opened the porthole and shoving my head through was intensely pleased
to see the _Stella_ under easy steam about a mile astern. I waved a
towel as a signal to the skipper to close up, and having edged it and
left it fluttering, I looked carefully to see that my revolver was
loaded, and sat down to speculate as to what form the crisis would take.
As the _Stella_ could steam two knots to the _Rampallo’s_ one, a few
minutes after my signal was observed would bring matters to a head.
But those minutes might bring trouble my way, of course.
The first sign of it was a hurried trampling of feet on the deck over
my head, followed almost directly by a loud knocking at my cabin door
and an angry demand for me to open it.
I let them knock and call as they pleased and then some one said that
the door was to be broken in. But I did not wish that to be done and
did wish to make delay, so I rapped back loudly with the butt of my
revolver.
“Open the door at once,” came in loud angry tones.
Putting my handkerchief to my mouth I yelled back a lot of muffled
unintelligible gibberish. An altercation followed in which they
continued to call to me to open and I replied with the same sort of rot
and played with the bolts as if fumbling in an attempt to unfasten them.
In this way I gained two or three invaluable minutes, and a glance out
of the porthole showed me that the _Stella_ was coming up very fast.
Their impatience drove them to act at last; and the first blow was
struck to force the way in.
“Wait. I’ll open it,” I shouted.
I drew the bolts and stepped back as a hail came across the water in
Burroughs’ stentorian tones.
There are many ways of showing astonishment, and most of them were
conspicuous as the door flew open and four men started to rush in and
then jumped back from my levelled weapon.
“Well, gentlemen, I should like to know what the devil you mean by
kidnapping me in this way,” I sang out and then, to their further
astonishment, I burst out laughing.
If my life had depended upon my keeping serious, I could not have
helped laughing at the ridiculous figures they cut. It was not so much
their boundless amazement at seeing me instead of the king, nor their
quick retreat from my weapon, but their general appearance which was
so irresistibly comic.
They wore neither coat, waistcoat, nor collar, their trousers were
rolled up to the knees, in their shirts of finest linen were gold
studs and the sleeves were rolled up to the elbows, their boots were
faultless in fit, all four wore gloves, and two of them carried
pince-nez; while from the top to toe they were smothered in a mixture
of machine oil, perspiration and coal dust.
They looked for all the world like amateur greasers badly made up and
coming straight from the comic opera stage.
“Who are you and where is----” stammered one of them, when a companion
stopped him and stepped forward.
“Leave this to me,” he said and then to me: “Who are you?”
“I am the king of Portugal, of course--Dom Carlos,” I replied, trying
to keep my face straight. “Where is Captain Gompez?”
“I am Captain Gompez.”
“I’m afraid you’ve had rather a rough night of it, captain. Stokehole
work is trying for an amateur.”
“Who are you, sir? I’m in no mood for fooling.”
“I should think not after such an experience. But as you are the owner
of this boat, tell me why you brought me here?”
As I said this I saw one of the younger men--a red-headed,
fiery-looking fellow--pull off his gloves furtively and begin to reach
for his hip pocket. “If either of you attempts to draw on me I shall
fire at whoever’s nearest to me,” I sang out in a very different tone.
Captain Gompez was the nearest and he promptly turned and stopped the
fellow who then tried to sneak away.
But I wouldn’t have that either. “You stop just where you are,” I
said. “I’m like your leader here--in no mood for fooling.”
At this moment Burroughs fired the blank cartridge from the _Stella_,
and some one called excitedly for Captain Gompez.
Taken aback by the unexpected development, all four started and I took
advantage of the moment when their eyes were off me to grab hold of the
captain and drag him into the cabin and then slammed the door to and
shot home one of the bolts.
“Now we can talk this----”
Before I could finish the sentence he flung himself upon me with an
oath in a desperate effort to grab my weapon, while he shouted to the
others to break in the door.
Like a fool I had allowed myself to be taken by surprise, and in a
second he had me pinned against the wall and at a terrible disadvantage.
I could not use my weapon, and my life depended on my preventing him
from getting it.