A Romany of the Snows Part 34

On the afternoon of the second day after she left Labrador, the Ninety-Nine came rippling near Isle of Fires, not sixty miles from her destination, catching a fair wind on her quarter off the land. Tarboe was in fine spirits, Joan was as full of songs as a canary, and Bissonnette was as busy watching her as in keeping the nose of the Ninety-Nine pointing for Cap de Gloire. Tarboe was giving the sail full to the wind, and thinking how he would just be able to reach Angel Point and get his treasure housed before ma.s.s in the morning.

Ma.s.s! How many times had he laughed as he sat in church and heard the cure have his gentle fling at smuggling! To think that the hiding-place for his liquor was the unused, almost unknown, cellar of that very church, built a hundred years before as a refuge from the Indians, which he had reached by digging a tunnel from the sh.o.r.e to its secret pa.s.sage!

That was why the customs officers never found anything at Angel Point, and that was why Tarboe much loved going to ma.s.s. He sometimes thought he could catch the flavour of the brands as he leaned his forehead on the seat before him. But this time he would go to ma.s.s with a fine handful of those gold pieces in his pocket, just to keep him in a commendable mood. He laughed out loud at the thought of doing so within a stone's throw of a fortune and nose-shot of fifty kegs of brandy.

As he did so, Bissonnette gave a little cry. They were coming on to Cap de Gloire at the moment, and Tarboe and Joan, looking, saw a boat standing off towards the mainland, as if waiting for them. Tarboe gave a roar, and called to Joan to take the tiller. He s.n.a.t.c.hed a gla.s.s and levelled it.

"A Government tug!" he said, "and tete de Diable! there's your tall Lafarge among 'em, Joan! I'd know him by his height miles off."

Joan lost colour a trifle and then got courage. "Pshaw," she said, "what does he want?"

"Want? Want? He wants the Ninety-Nine and her cargo; but by the sun of my soul, he'll get her across the devil's gridiron! See here, my girl, this ain't any sport with you aboard. Bissonnette and I could make a stand for it alone, but what's to become of you? I don't want you mixed up in the mess."

The girl was eyeing the Government boat. "But I'm in it, and I can't be out of it, and I don't want to be out now that I am in. Let me see the gla.s.s." She took it in one hand. "Yes, it must be M'sieu' Lafarge," she said, frowning. "He might have stayed out of this."

"When he's got orders, he has to go," answered her father; "but he must look out, for a gun is a gun, and I don't pick and choose. Besides, I've no contraband this cruise, and I'll let no one stick me up."

"There are six or seven of them," said Joan debatingly.

"Bring her up to the wind," shouted Tarboe to Bissonnette. The mainsail closed up several points, the Ninety-Nine slackened her pace and edged in closer to the land. "Now, my girl," said Tarboe, "this is how it stands. If we fight, there's someone sure to be hurt, and if I'm hurt, where'll you be?"

Bissonnette interposed. "We've got nothing contraband. The gold is ours."

"Trust that crew--but no!" cried Tarboe, with an oath. "The Government would hold the rhino for possible owners, and then give it to a convent or something. They shan't put foot here. They've said war, and they'll get it. They're signalling us to stop, and they're bearing down. There goes a shot!"

The girl had been watching the Government boat coolly. Now that it began to bear on, she answered her father's question.

"Captain," she said, like a trusted mate, "we'll bluff them." Her eyes flashed with the intelligence of war. "Here, quick, I'll take the tiller. They haven't seen Bissonnette yet; he sits low. Call all hands on deck--shout! Then, see: Loce will go down the middle hatch, get a gun, come up with it on his shoulder, and move on to the fo'castle. Then he'll drop down the fo'castle hatch, get along to the middle hatch, and come up again with the gun, now with his cap, now without it, now with his coat, now without it. He'll do that till we've got twenty or thirty men on deck! They'll think we've been laying for them, and they'll not come on--you see!"

Tarboe ripped out an oath. "It's a great game," he said, and a moment afterwards, in response to his roars, Bissonnette came up the hatch with his gun showing bravely; then again and again, now with his cap, now without, now with his coat, now with none, anon with a tarpaulin over his shoulders grotesquely. Meanwhile Tarboe trained his one solitary little cannon on the enemy, roaring his men into place.

From the tug it seemed that a large and well-armed crew were ranging behind the bulwarks of the Ninety-Nine. Mr. Martin, the inspector, saw with alarm Bissonnette's constantly appearing rifle.

"They've arranged a plant for us, Mr. Lafarge. What do you think we'd better do?" he asked.

"Fight!" answered Lafarge laconically. He wished to put himself on record, for he was the only one on board who saw through the ruse.

"But I've counted at least twenty men, all armed, and we've only five."

"As you please, sir," said Lafarge bluntly, angry at being tricked, but inwardly glad to be free of the business, for he pictured to himself that girl at the tiller--he had seen her as she went aft--in a police court at Quebec. Yet his instinct for war and his sense of duty impelled him to say: "Still, sir, fight!"

"No, no, Mr. Lafarge," excitedly rejoined his chief. "I cannot risk it.

We must go back for more men and bring along a Gatling. Slow down!" he called. Lafarge turned on his heel with an oath, and stood watching the Ninety-Nine.

"She'll laugh at me till I die!" he said to himself presently, as the tug turned up stream and pointed for Quebec. "Well, I'm jiggered!" he added, as a cannon shot came ringing over the water after them. He was certain also that he heard loud laughter. No doubt he was right; for as the tug hurried on, Tarboe ran to Joan, hugged her like a bear, and roared till he ached. Then she paid out the sheet, they clapped on all sail, and travelled in the track of the enemy.

Tarboe's spirit was roused. He was not disposed to let his enemy off on even such terms, so he now turned to Joan and said: "What say you to a chase of the gentleman?"

Joan was in a mood for such a dare-devil adventure. For three people, one of whom was a girl, to give chase to a well-manned, well-armed Government boat was too good a relish to be missed. Then, too, it had just occurred to her that a parley would be amusing, particularly if she and Lafarge were the truce-bearers. So she said: "That is very good."

"Suppose they should turn and fight?" suggested Bissonnette.

"That's true--here's m'am'selle," agreed Tarboe. "But, see," said Joan.

"If we chase them and call upon them to surrender--and after all, we can prove that we had nothing contraband--what a splendid game it'll be!"

Mischief flicked in her eyes.

"Good!" said Tarboe. "To-morrow I shall be a rich man, and then they'll not dare to come again."

So saying, he gave the sail to the wind, and away the Ninety-Nine went after the one ewe lamb of the Government.

Mr. Martin saw her coming, and gave word for all steam. It would be a pretty game, for the wind was in Tarboe's favour, and the general advantage was not greatly with the tug. Mr. Martin was now anxious indeed to get out of the way of the smuggler. Lafarge made one restraining effort, then settled into an ironical mood. Yet a half-dozen times he was inclined to blurt out to Martin what he believed was the truth. A man, a boy, and a girl to bluff them that way! In his bones he felt that it was the girl who was behind this thing. Of one matter he was sure--they had no contraband stuff on board, or Tarboe would not have brought his daughter along. He could not understand the att.i.tude, for Tarboe would scarcely have risked the thing out of mere bravado. Why not call a truce? Perhaps he could solve the problem. They were keeping a tolerably safe distance apart, and there was no great danger of the Ninety-Nine overhauling them even if it so willed; but Mr. Martin did not know that.

What he said to his chief had its effect, and soon there was a white flag flying on the tug. It was at once answered with a white handkerchief of Joan's. Then the tug slowed up, the Ninety-Nine came on gaily, and at a good distance came up to the wind, and stood off.

"What do you want?" asked Tarboe through his speaking-tube.

"A parley," called Mr. Martin.

"Good; send an officer," answered Tarboe.

A moment after, Lafarge was in a boat rowing over to meet another boat rowed by Joan alone, who, dressed in a suit of Bissonnette's, had prevailed on her father to let her go.

The two boats nearing each other, Joan stood up, saluting, and Lafarge did the same.

"Good-day, m'sieu'," said Joan, with a.s.sumed brusqueness, mischief lurking about her mouth. "What do you want?"

"Good-day, monsieur; I did not expect to confer with you."

"M'sieu'," said Joan, with well-acted dignity, "if you prefer to confer with the captain or Mr. Bissonnette, whom I believe you know in the matter of a pail, and--"

"No, no; pardon me, monsieur," said Lafarge more eagerly than was good for the play, "I am glad to confer with you, you will understand--you will understand--" He paused.

"What will I understand?"

"You will understand that I understand!" Lafarge waved meaningly towards the Ninety-Nine, but it had no effect at all. Joan would not give the game over into his hands.

"That sounds like a charade or a puzzle game. We are gentlemen on a serious errand, aren't we?"

"Yes," answered Lafarge, "perfect gentlemen on a perfectly serious errand!"

"Very well, m'sieu'. Have you come to surrender?" The splendid impudence of the thing stunned Lafarge, but he said: "I suppose one or the other ought to surrender; and naturally," he added with slow point, "it should be the weaker."

"Very well. Our captain is willing to consider conditions. You came down on us to take us--a quiet craft sailing in free waters. You attack us without cause. We summon all hands, and you run. We follow, you ask for truce. It is granted. We are not hard--no. We only want our rights.

Admit them; we'll make surrender easy, and the matter is over."

Lafarge gasped. She was forcing his hand. She would not understand his oblique suggestions. He saw only one way now, and that was to meet her, boast for boast.

"I haven't come to surrender," he said, "but to demand."