A FUGITIVE FROM THE ENEMY
The Fatimé came to anchor just inside of the New Mole, not more than
three cable lengths distant from the Guardian-Mother. When Louis first
saw her off the castle at Tangier, he concluded that the Pacha had
business at that port. When seen three months before, he declared that
he held no official position under the government; but this might have
been, even while he was one of the most influential men of his country.
If His Highness had business on the Mediterranean, especially at
Tangier, which was a Moroccan port, it could not have been very
pressing, or he would not have been at liberty to follow the Maud. Now
he seemed to have a roving commission to go where and when he pleased.
As the voyagers had learned at Funchal, he was a lawless character; and
this information had been fully confirmed by Felipe, who had observed
his outgoings and his incomings as engineer of the little steamer.
After Mr. Boulong had taken possession of the Maud and his men had
been stationed on board of her, Felipe, who had been obliged to remain
in charge of the engine when the rest of the ship's company left,
was in a very disturbed state of mind. From the starboard door of his
apartment he had seen the Fatimé when she rounded the end of the New
Mole and came to anchor. He was absolutely terrified at the sight of
her, for he knew that the Pacha was on board. But he had not been told
that the distinguished Moor claimed to own the Maud, and had recognized
Scott on board of her, for Louis thought this information would
needlessly alarm him.
Captain Ringgold descended the gangway steps and went into the cabin
of the Maud, in order that he might be close at hand to direct any
movement that might become necessary. The commander had hardly seated
himself before Felipe, who had seen him when he came on board,
presented himself before him.
"He take me!" exclaimed the young Spaniard, pointing in the direction
of the anchorage of the Pacha's steamer; and his limbs actually shook
with terror.
"No, he will not take you, Felipe; he will not take anybody," replied
the captain in a mild tone.
"I run away with the Salihé, and he have the law," added the engineer.
"He may cause you to be arrested; but if he does, I will see that you
are properly defended," replied the commander, who realized that the
young man was technically guilty of stealing the little steamer, though
she had been returned to the owner.
"No matter if you did run away with the Salihé; the Pacha abused you,
and you were justified in leaving him in any way you could. My feet
would not keep still if my body was abused," said Captain Ringgold,
though he realized that the case presented some difficulties.
Felipe did not understand the speaker, for his language was above the
comprehension of the Spaniard. The first sentence he had uttered, that
the engineer should not be taken, was plain enough to him, and that
was really all he had been able to make out; but he was satisfied with
this, and thanked the captain.
"Have you drawn the fires, Felipe?" asked the commander.
"Not yet," replied the engineer, who was better posted on the
technicalities of the machinery than in ordinary matters. "I was to
draw the fires when I see you come down."
"Bank them, and keep the steam up."
This was also understood, and the engineer hastened back to the
machine, willing to leave his case with the commander, who, he thought,
was a bigger man than Ali-Noury Pacha.
"Shore boat alongside, sir, containing a half-drowned Turk," reported
Mr. Boulong at the cabin door.
"A Turk!" exclaimed the captain.
"Perhaps I should have said a Moor; but he looks more like a
turkey-buzzard just now," the first officer explained. "I rather think
he comes from the Pacha's steamer. He wants to come on board."
"I will go out and look at him," replied the captain, as he followed
Mr. Boulong out of the cabin and to the gangway of the Maud, which was
on the quarter. "We have no interpreter if the fellow is a Moor."
"None is needed, for the man speaks English as well as I do," replied
the officer. "He wears the uniform of a Moor; but I don't believe he is
one."
The man in the shore boat stood up in the stern-sheets. He wore the
Moorish costume; but his garments were soaked with water, and hung
to him like a Monday morning wash on the clothes-line. His clothes
certainly needed washing, for they were be-grimed with oil and coal
dust. He was not regarded as dangerous, and he was permitted to come on
deck.
"I run away from the Fatimé," said he without waiting to be questioned
and in good enough English.
"Are you a Moor?" inquired the captain.
"No, sir; I am an Englishman. I shipped as an oiler when that steamer
was there; but I was abused, kicked, and beaten by the engineer, who is
an Englishman like myself, because I criticised some of the proceedings
of the Pacha, who is the worst heathen I ever met."
"We know something about him," added Captain Ringgold encouragingly.
"Mr. Tomlin told me I did not mind my own business when he kicked me
and blacked one of my eyes with his fist," added the fugitive. "I will
drown myself before I will go back to the Fatimé. If I go on shore the
Pacha will have me arrested, for he spends a great deal of money here,
and the people will do anything he wants done."
The commander evidently pitied the poor fellow, whose "feet could not
keep still when his body was abused," and he had used them in swimming
away from the Pacha's steamer. The boatman said he had picked him up
some distance from the Fatimé, and he wanted his fee. The fugitive drew
a purse from his pocket, and gave the boatman half a sovereign on his
promise not to tell any one that he had picked him up.
"That is a big fee, when a shilling would have paid you well,"
interposed the captain.
"But I gave him ten shilling to hold his tongue," said the runaway
oiler.
"All right, if the boatman keeps his promise; and if he don't keep it,
I will have him keel-hauled," replied the commander.
The boatman protested that he would not whisper a sound to any one,
and he was permitted to depart. Captain Ringgold seemed to be somewhat
perplexed, for he bit his lip, and his forehead wrinkled as though he
was doing some heavy thinking. Doubtless he was considering whether or
not he was doing right in harboring the fugitive from the Mohammedan
craft; but the man had been abused, and had not been able to procure
his discharge from the vessel, or he would not have jumped overboard
and swam away from her.
The commander believed the man was honest, and his narrative was
consistent in itself. He was an expert in the reading of character.
He asked some further questions, and learned that his name was John
Donald. He had been fourth engineer of the Spanish steamer Guadiana,
which had been wrecked in the West Indies. He was tempted to take a
position as oiler in the Fatimé by the high wages offered him; but he
had been cheated out of half that was due him by the engineer, whom he
called a brute and a villain, though he was his own countryman.
"Pass the word for Mr. Belgrave; invite him to come on board of the
Maud, Mr. Boulong," said the commander when he had decided what to do.
One of the men was sent on board the ship for him, and while he was
absent the captain went to the engine-room. Louis presently came on
board and found the captain trying to understand what the engineer was
saying to him.
"I don't get ahead much in talking with Felipe," said he with a laugh.
"His English and my Spanish are about on a par. I want to know what
there is under the forecastle of the Maud, for I have never looked the
boat over very closely."
"I can tell you that, sir, without any help from Felipe," replied
Louis. "It has a forecastle below deck as well as above. It is a very
cunning little apartment, in which there are two berths."
"I live in there when I was in Mogadore," interposed the engineer.
"Take off the hatch-cover, Felipe;" and the captain and owner followed
him to the forecastle.
The scuttle was removed, and a sort of step-ladder appeared leading
down to the little room. It was dimly lighted by bulls' eyes of glass
in the deck; but with the scuttle taken off one could see to read
there.
"Send Donald, the turkey-buzzard, down here, Mr. Boulong," called the
captain; and in a few moments the fugitive descended the steps.
"Do you think you could manage to live in such a place as this,
Donald?" asked the captain.
"Very well indeed, sir; I ask for nothing better than this," replied
Donald.
"Then you may remain here for the present; but if anybody comes on
board from the Fatimé, I shall have the hatch put on, and you can hook
it down from below. I think the place is ventilated on either side
through the bulkhead."
"There is a door on the port side which leads aft to the fire-room,"
added Louis, who had fully explored the interior of the vessel.
The commander led the way to the deck, where he ordered a bucket of
water, soap, and towels to be sent to the fugitive. Donald was a young
man, not more than twenty-five years old, but about the size of Louis
and Scott, both of whom had "got their growth." When Captain Ringgold
spoke of clothes for the new man, Louis went on board the ship, and
brought back the suit he had worn when he was first taken on board the
Guardian-Mother from the sand-spit on the shore of New Jersey. It was
a comfortable every-day suit, and he presented it to Donald, with a
shirt, collar, and tie.
The oiler was deeply grateful to him for the gift, and he was left
alone to make his toilet. He had hardly returned to the deck before Mr.
Boulong announced that a boat was putting off from the Pacha's steamer.
The commander had retired to the cabin, and Louis joined him there.
"I suppose you want me out of the way, do you not, Captain Ringgold?"
asked he, as he presented himself.
"Not at all, Sir Louis," promptly replied the commander. "I may want
some orders from you; for, as you can see for yourself, the situation
has been wholly changed by the appearance of the steamer of that
Mohammedan humbug. I don't care a rap for his religion if he were only
a decent fellow; but his record at Funchal is very bad indeed, and I
will have nothing to do with him."
"Mrs. Woolridge is worrying herself half to death since the Fatimé let
go her anchor over there," replied Louis.
"She will be more disturbed than ever when she sees that boat
approaching," added the captain.
"The Pacha himself is in the boat," reported Mr. Boulong at the open
door.
"All right; only observe the orders I gave you. Tell his Serene
Highness that I decline to receive him," replied the commander. "You
may go on the promenade deck, where you can see all that passes and
hear what is said, Louis; but don't interfere. And see that the hatch
over the forecastle is put on."
Louis was glad enough to avail himself of this permission, and
hastened forward, taking a lantern from the engine-room as he did so.
He found the fore scuttle still open, and he carried the lantern down.
He lighted the lamp, and then told Donald to hook down the hatch, for
the Pacha's boat was coming. From the deck he proceeded up the ladder
near the pilot-house to the upper deck, and seated himself where he
could see the gangway.