Kilgorman Part 18

_Parbleu_! we are quits."

And he laughed a loud laugh at his own jest. Then they proceeded to count their booty, and while so engaged it seemed to me that I had better escape before my position became more exposed, as it would be sure to be as soon as the business of carrying the guns through the recess began. So I took advantage of the darkness, when they were engaged at the far end of the kitchen, to drop from my perch and slip through the trap-door.

The peril of this movement only dawned on me when I found myself in the narrow, rocky cave. If this secret pa.s.sage were guarded at the other end, as was most likely, by sentinels from the ship, what was to become of me? However, there was no retreating now. So I groped my way forward, down the ever-widening pa.s.sage, till at last I found myself in a great wide-mouthed cave, full of water, in the middle of which ran a smooth causeway of stones, forming a kind of natural pier and landing- place. The rocky ledges running out beyond on either side formed a little harbour, in which, in the roughest weather, the water was fairly calm; and a further tongue of rock beyond that, rising some thirty or forty feet, and seeming to any one approaching it from without to be part of the cliffs, offered a safe riding-place for a ship of moderate draught.

As good luck would have it, the cave was empty. The _Arrow_ must have come in after I had crossed the lough that evening. And the French skipper and his mate had evidently left their crew to anchor and clear the vessel in the roads while they reconnoitred the house.

I could see very little of the ship through the darkness, and, indeed, was too busy making myself scarce to heed her.

Nor had I much time to spare. For almost before I had got round the ledge and clambered partly up the cliff at the top of the cave mouth, I heard a boat putting off and voices making for the little harbour.

After that, fatigue and hunger did their work with me, and despite the peril of my position I fell asleep, and never woke till the sun was high and hot in the heavens.

Then, when I looked out, I saw as pretty a little schooner as I had ever set eyes on lying in the roads. I used to think it hard to beat the _Cigale_ for looks, but the _Arrow_ was her superior in every way. She was a bigger vessel, and armed at every port. Her lines were both light and strong, and by the cut of her rigging I could fancy she had the speed of a greyhound.

The sight of her set all my old sea-longing aflame. Pirate as she was, it would be good, I thought, to be on her and face the open sea, far away from my persecutors and enemies--away from Knockowen, and Kilgorman, and--

Here I stopped short. Knockowen, next to the _Cigale_ where Tim was, held what counted most to me of this world's good. Kilgorman held the spirit of my dead mother, waiting to be relieved of its trouble. How could I desert the one or the other and call myself a brave man?

What I could not decide, fate decided for me. The cave below me was guarded by the pirate's men, who clattered their muskets on the stones and kept a keen look-out on all sides for any chance intruder. To quit my present perch would be certain death. So I lay and watched the boat as she plied backwards and forwards with the guns, and wondered how soon the task of loading would be done.

It went on all the day, and every hour I felt myself grow fainter and more sick with hunger. For nearly two days, except last night's crust, I had tasted nothing; and before that, sea-weed had been the chief article of my diet. The scene presently seemed to swim before me, and at last, what with the heat and famine, I fairly swooned away.

When I came to, two curious faces were bent over me, and my bed was no longer the rocky cliff side, but the hard floor of a boat as it danced over the waves.

"He looks a likely lad," said one voice.

"He's safer with us than ash.o.r.e," said another. "I warrant he was put there to spy on us."

"Come, lad," said the first speaker, shaking me not altogether roughly; "we have you safe this time."

"'Deed, sir," said I, "as long as you give me some food you may do what you like with me."

And with this I rolled over again and all grew dim. When I opened my eyes next it was dark, and by the motion under me I guessed I was on the ship. A lantern swung dimly overhead, and a loud snoring below me showed me I was not alone in my bunk. What was of more interest just then, a piece of a loaf and some salt meat stood within reach of where I lay, and had evidently been put there for my use. You may guess if I let them stand long.

This refreshment, with the sleep I had had, and a few drops of rum in the tail of a bottle that stuck from my messmate's pocket, made a new man of me. And I sank back to my rest with a sense of comfort I have rarely known the like of since.

In the morning a rough hand roused me.

"Come, you have had enough coddling, my hearty. The captain wants you.

And, if you'll take my advice, you'll say your prayers before you go on deck, as he'll likely drop you overboard."

This failed to frighten me, as it was meant to do; and I gathered myself together and climbed the hatchway, feebly enough, I confess, but with good cheer, and stood on the deck of the _Arrow_.

The coast of Donegal was clear over our stern, and a smart breeze from the east filled our sails and sent us spanking through the water.

The skipper was sitting aft, pipe in mouth, and waiting for me. I resolved to take the bold course and not wait to be spoken to.

"The top of the morning to you, captain," said I, saluting; "and it's well you're looking since you were at my mother's wake."

He stared at me, and then seemed to understand.

"You--you are Gallagher's boy, then?"

"The same, captain," said I; "and I'm obliged to you for this day's food."

"Gallagher was no friend of mine," said he; "but since he is dead, that shall not be against you, if you sail with me."

"Dead!" I exclaimed. "Is my father dead?"

"The _Cigale_ went down off Foreland Head a month since."

"And Tim, my brother, was he drowned?"

"Likely enough, if he was aboard. Only two of the crew escaped.--So you sail under my orders?"

"I have nothing else to do," said I.

"You may swing at the yard-arm, if you prefer it," said he.

"Thanking you all the same, I'll sail where I am," said I.

So, with a very heavy heart, I found myself one of the crew of the _Arrow_.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN.

THE GUARD-HOUSE AT BREST.

Captain Cochin--for so the commander of the _Arrow_ styled himself, though I always had my doubts whether he had any right to one t.i.tle or the other--was too well aware of the value of his cargo to risk it in pursuing his ordinary calling of a pirate on the present voyage. So he stood well out to sea, ostentatiously flying the English flag, and giving friendly salutes to any chance vessels that came in his course.

"_Parbleu_!" said he, "England owes me one debt for taking the guns away from those who would have used them against her, and selling them to my poor countrymen, who will use them against one another. But there is no grat.i.tude in England, and if I want payment I must help myself. But not this voyage--by-and-by."

As for me, the joy I should have felt at finding myself free and at sea was damped by the news of the loss of the _Cigale_, and with it, of my father and Tim. The hope of seeing Tim again had kept me in heart during many a trouble and danger, and now I felt more alone than ever.

In the whole world, except Con the dog, there was left me but one friend; and she, if she ever thought of me, did so as of one below her, and already dead. But that I was young and clung hard to life, I would as soon have dropped over the side of the _Arrow_ as anywhere else, and so ended the bad business of my little history.

In a day or two, however, as the wind freshened and the great Atlantic waves pitched the _Arrow_ like a plaything from one to the other, my spirits began to rise once more, and the cloud on my mind gave way before the cheery influence of a seaman's life.

One of the first things I discovered was that I knew far less about seamanship than I gave myself credit for. Sailing the _Arrow_ was a very different business from sailing his honour's lumbering tubs across Lough Sw.i.l.l.y, and I had to own that I had a great deal to learn and very little to teach before I could call myself a complete sailor. Still, I was handy, and not afraid to lend a hand at anything, from holding the helm to cooking the mate's dinner. And so, before many days were over, I had taken my place without much ado as one of the crew.

For a ship of that size, engaged in such a trade, a crew of thirty men was small enough. Most of them were foreigners, a few, like myself, Irish, and the rest English. The one thing that kept them all from quarrelling was the hope of plunder; and it was easy to guess that, in the matter of the stolen guns, although the credit of that achievement belonged to Captain Cochin alone, the men would not have agreed on this peaceable journey to France if they had not been promised a share in the fruits of the cargo when sold.

Captain Cochin found out that it is as hard to avoid the enemy's ships when you do not want them as it is to fall in with them when you do.

We had been out nearly a week, beating about against fitful winds down the west coast of Ireland, when one evening just before nightfall we sighted land on our weather-bow, and between us and it a sail bearing down our way.

As far as we could make out the stranger was a cruiser, in all probability one of the government vessels at that time stationed off Bantry Bay, on the look-out for some of the foreign smugglers and privateers that made it their hunting-ground. The light fell too suddenly to enable us to see more, but Captain Cochin flew the English colours at his mast-head, and held on his course until night hid us completely.