His Lordship's Leopard Part 31

Miss Arminster made no reply, for the excellent reason that her head was out of a port-hole, and she could not hear clearly what was said.

Presently she pulled it in again, crying, as she did so:

"Oh, do look! This is great sport! The American ship is running away from us!"

Such was indeed the case. The vessel they were overhauling was a small tramp steamer, which had evidently found courage, through the general incapacity of the Spanish navy and the fancied security of neutral waters, to flaunt the Stars and Stripes. It was therefore most disconcerting to find herself suddenly pursued in the English Channel by a craft which had every appearance of being a Spanish gunboat. No sooner had she caught a glimpse of the red and yellow flag of her enemy than she crowded on to her yards every st.i.tch of canva.s.s she possessed, in the hope of obtaining some advantage from the light breeze that was blowing, while the black clouds of smoke which belched from her single funnel showed that her engines were being driven to their utmost capacity. She having a long lead and the combined a.s.sistance of wind and steam, the distance between the pursuer and the pursued decreased slowly, and it soon became evident that it was to be a stern chase, which is proverbially a long chase. The yacht, therefore, turned about in search of some fresh enemy to whom she might surrender, and in this fortune favored her, for down the Channel came a great liner, whose name, albeit she flew temporarily the flag of another nation, proclaimed her to be an American ship, with an American captain and crew.

Those on board the "Homing Pigeon" now adopted different tactics, and an inverted British ensign replaced the banner of the Dons.

As the yacht stood directly in the path of the oncoming ocean greyhound, and flew signals of distress which she could not disregard, the great ship was forced to heave to. Marchmont hastened to convey the news to his prisoners in the cabin, saying that he considered them very fortunate, as they had every prospect of a speedy and pleasant voyage, and cautioning them at the same time, as he led the way up the cabin stairs, that resistance was futile, and that any remarks of theirs to the crew would only be so much waste of breath. To all of which neither deigned to answer a word, realising that in their present precarious position silence was not only the most dignified but also the safest course.

As they reached the deck the great liner was almost abreast of them, and gradually came to a standstill with clouds of pent-up steam pouring from her safety-valves.

"What do you want?" bawled her chief officer through a megaphone, his voice sounding very large and clear from the great height above them.

"We've two prisoners of war, Spanish spies, and we wish to hand them over!" shouted the mate in return.

"This isn't an American ship," came the reply.

"Yes, it is," howled Marchmont; "we know better! You belong to the 'Pink Star' line."

The chief officer conferred with the captain.

"It's Mason and Slidell the other way round," he said. "I wouldn't touch 'em with a ten-foot pole. Besides--" and here he seized the megaphone from his subordinate and yelled through it:

"You infernal idiots! don't you know the war with Spain is over? We've declared a truce!"

"I don't believe it," cried Marchmont, shaking his fist at the great steamship in a paroxysm of disappointed rage. "It's only an excuse to shirk your duty! We've brought them out to you, and you've got to take them! I'll report you to the government! I'll--!"

The sharp ring of the engine-room bell from the liner's bridge was the only reply vouchsafed him, and a moment later the big ship forged ahead, her captain very red in the face and swearing like a trooper: for the most precious thing on board a racer of that cla.s.s is time, and the "Homing Pigeon" had been wasting it.

The Bishop, noting the sheepish faces of the mate and his two fellow conspirators, and the lowering glances of the crew, turned to Miss Arminster, saying:

"We'd better return to the cabin, my dear. I think there's going to be trouble."

The little actress followed his Lordship's gaze, and descended without a word of protest. She thought so, too.

They had hardly entered the saloon, when there came a respectful knock at the door, and an elderly seaman entered, ducking his head.

"Well, my good man," said his Lordship, "what can I do for you?"

"Meanin' no disrespect, sir, be you really the Bishop of Blanford?"

"Certainly I am," that gentleman replied. "You see my dress, and," as a happy thought struck him, "here's one of my cards to prove my ident.i.ty."

And he handed the sailor a bit of pasteboard with his t.i.tle engraved thereon.

"And the lady?" asked the seaman.

"The lady is no more connected with this absurd charge than I am,"

pursued the Bishop. "You've been grievously misled by your mate and these two strangers. But if you'll take us safe to the nearest port, I'll speak a word in your favour to your master, Lord Downton, who's an intimate friend of mine. Can you read?"

"Yes, your honour."

"Then here's a letter from his Lordship, which I fortunately have by me, requesting me to join his yacht. Read it yourself, and show it to your fellows as a proof of who I am." And he handed him the missive.

The sailor took it, ducked again, and retired silently, and there was presently a great shuffling of feet on the deck above.

"What do you think they're doing?" asked Violet.

"I trust they're coming to their senses--and if--" But his remarks were interrupted by a most terrific row overhead, shouts, blows, and curses.

"Bless my soul!" exclaimed the Bishop. "What can be the matter?"

"They're squaring accounts with Marchmont, Friend Othniel, and the mate, I guess," she replied, "and I hope they'll half kill them."

"Fie, fie! my dear Leopard--most unchristian. I must certainly go and--"

"No, you mustn't do anything of the sort! Stay right where you are.

We're in hot enough water already." And suiting the action to the word, she pushed him back on to the divan.

"Well, really--!" remarked the Bishop, and collapsed amiably.

Presently the sounds of commotion ceased, and gave way to laughter, but laughter with a certain grim note in it that boded ill for those laughed at. After a little, there came another knock at the cabin door, and this time quite a deputation entered the saloon, the sailor who had first visited them being the spokesman.

"Having disposed of those gents as you suggested--" he began.

"No, no!" the Bishop hastened to disclaim, "I suggested nothing."

"Well," said the seaman, "we've fixed 'em, anyway. And now we're heading for the nearest port, which the same's Weymouth, and we hopes you'll overlook what's gone before, and come on deck and take command of this yacht."

"I will certainly come on deck," replied the Bishop. "But as to a.s.suming command of the ship, I hardly feel qualified. Is there not some one among you--?"

"I'm bo'sn, please your honour," volunteered the speaker.

"Ah," said the Bishop blandly, "then I appoint you." And as the men fell back, he escorted Miss Arminster upstairs.

As they appeared on deck, a striking scene met their eyes. Three wretched figures were triced up to the mainmast. They had only such remnants of clothes remaining on their persons as decency demanded, and they had all evidently made a recent acquaintance with the ship's tar-barrel and slush-bucket.

As his Lordship and Miss Arminster appeared, the crew approached, expecting a speech.

"I hardly know what to say," began the Bishop to Violet.

"Let me speak to them, will you?" she asked, her eyes sparkling. "I understand human nature pretty well. I have to, in my profession."

His Lordship nodded a.s.sent, and a moment later she had sprung on to the cabin hatch, a most entrancing little figure, and instantly commanded the attention and admiration of her audience.

"Mates!" she cried, in her clear ringing voice, "mates, I want a word with you."

"Speak up, and welcome!" called some one in the crowd, while the boatswain, nudging a comrade in the ribs, remarked under his breath: