A Cabinet Secret Part 21

"We are pa.s.sengers," said the Commander-in-Chief, "and, as my friend says, we are extremely anxious to leave the ship and go aboard your vessel."

"That's all very well," he answered curtly, "but I don't think it will do. The skipper wouldn't hear of it, don't you know. But for the present, what are your names?"

Here was the opportunity for which I had been waiting.

"This gentleman is the Right Honourable Benjamin Castellan, Secretary of State for the Colonies," I said, pointing to Castellan, "this is the Commander-in-Chief of the British Army, and my friend on your left is Sir William Woller, who some little time ago was appointed Commander-in-Chief of the British forces in South Africa."

"Stow that," the officer answered angrily. "You'd better not play the fool with me. What do you take me for?"

At the same time I noticed that he looked curiously from one to the other of us as if he could not altogether trust his own judgment. Then he added: "You know very well that the four gentlemen you speak of are dead."

"You will find, my friend, when you come to know us better, that there is likely to be a difference of opinion on that score," said the Commander-in-Chief quietly. "My own is that they are very much alive."

"Perhaps it would be as well for one of us to write a note to the Captain," Castellan put in. Then turning to the lieutenant, he continued: "I think it would be better for you to believe our story, my friend. What you have been told, as you will admit when you have heard all we have to say, is quite correct. That we are the people in question I shall soon hope to convince you. Will you accompany us to the saloon, or do you prefer to remain here?"

He came with us to the cuddy, and when we had found paper and ink in the captain's stateroom, Castellan sat down and wrote a note to the commander of the ship. This was despatched by the boat that had brought the lieutenant, and in less than half-an-hour Captain Breatford was ascending the steps of the accommodation ladder. In the meantime we had made ourselves as presentable as possible, and had quite succeeded in convincing the lieutenant of the truth of our story. He was profuse in his apologies for his manner towards us, but we bade him think no more about it. He might very well have been forgiven for not having recognised us.

I must leave you to imagine the captain's surprise at finding us in such a strange position. He prophesied a tremendous sensation in England when our story should become known.

"You are quite certain, I suppose, that it was off Achil Head that you parted company with the yacht?" he asked when he had heard our adventures.

"Quite certain," I replied. "But if you would care to convince yourself on that score, and will come with me to the chart-room, I will show you the chart worked out by the officer of the watch up to noon yesterday."

He did so, took certain notes, and then invited us to accompany him to the warship. The necessary officers and crew had already arrived to take possession of our own vessel, and when all was ready, we bade the old tub farewell. She had been the theatre of one of the most singular adventures of the Century, and, but for the fact of my having obtained possession of that gimlet, might now have been lying at the bottom of the ocean, with us locked up in her.

On board the man-of-war a consultation was held, and as a result the captain decided to set off at once in search of the mysterious yacht, and afterwards to land us at a port whence we could easily reach London.

"In the meantime, gentlemen, permit me to offer you the best hospitality in my power," he said. "I think, in being permitted to rescue you, I should deem myself the most fortunate man in the British Navy to-day. To rescue four such gentlemen is not a chance that falls to a man's lot very often."

Needless to say we quite agreed with him.

CHAPTER XI

The tale of our adventures has occupied a long time in the telling.

There remains but little more to be added. What there is, however, I venture to think may be of interest to you.

According to the captain's arrangements, we explored the sea for a considerable distance round Achil Head, but without discovering any sign of the yacht. The peasantry, we learnt, had seen nothing of her, and it was not until we reached the little harbour of Gallisheen that we learnt how swift, and entirely unexpected, had been her fate. How it happened no one will ever know, though it is conjectured that the fog was responsible for the catastrophe. At any rate, the fact remains, that, when little more than eight miles from Gallisheen, she went ash.o.r.e on that terrible coast, and in less than an hour became a total wreck.

You would be quite justified in asking how we knew that it was the same vessel. Let me explain. When we landed to make enquiries concerning the wreck, an old man informed us that only one body had been recovered, that of a woman. If we cared to inspect it, he added, it was at that moment lying in his cabin awaiting burial. Impelled by a feeling that was something more than curiosity, we entered the rough hut on the cliff. I think we all knew what we should see. When we came out into the sunlight again, Castellan, whose face was very pale, put his hand on my shoulder.

[Ill.u.s.tration: I THINK WE ALL KNEW WHAT WE SHOULD SEE.

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"Manderville, old friend," he said, "Shakespeare was right when he said that 'there are more things in heaven and earth than are dreamt of in our philosophy.' That woman lying in the hut planned our ruin, and but for you she would have accomplished it. Now she is dead, while we are alive. There is a moral in it, if one cared to look for it."

"And Conrad, Sargasta, and the other man, what can have become of them?"

"Drowned, you may be sure," he answered, in the same curious voice.

"Poor wretches! they have received their punishment sooner than they expected. When all is said and done, we can afford to forgive them."

As he finished speaking we heard the snarl of the waves on the rocks below. They were telling their own tale, and I shuddered as I heard it.

The outburst of excitement, the _furore_, I might say, which greeted our arrival in London will be well remembered by every one; for this reason it is not necessary for me to touch upon it here. How Woller completed his journey to the Cape after all, and the great things that he accomplished when he got there, are also known to every one.

I think it only right, however, in conclusion, to add that, in giving this record of our strange adventures to the public, I have done what I consider to be my duty; and with the hope that no public men will ever again be called upon to endure so much, I make my bow, and bid my readers a polite farewell.

THE END.