Paddy Finn Part 53

"What sort of a cargo do you generally carry, Captain Long?" I asked.

"That depends on what we stow away in the hold," he answered, with a knowing wink. "Silks, satins, and ribbons, sometimes; and at others tobacco and brandy, a few cases of gloves or lace, and such articles as English ladies are fond of, and are glad to get without paying duty."

"Then you acknowledge yourself to be a smuggler, captain?"

"I intend to be as long as I can make an honest living by it," he answered, laughing. "I'm not ashamed of it. It is fair play, you see.

If I'm caught I lose my goods and vessel, and am sent to prison, or serve His Majesty on board a man-of-war. If I land my cargo, as I generally contrive to do, I make a good profit."

As he was thus open I argued the point, trying to show that the Government must have a revenue to pay their expenses, and that his proceedings were lawless.

"That's their business, not mine," he answered, not in the least degree moved by my observations. "The Government could not think very ill of us," he remarked; "for if they want information about what is going on in France, or have to send over anybody secretly, they are ready enough to apply to me, and pay well too. Why, in the war time, if it hadn't been for us smugglers, they couldn't have managed to send a messenger across Channel. Bless you! I've carried over a queer lot of characters now and then. But you must be getting hungry, young gentleman, and it's time for dinner. Come below."

I found a plentiful repast, which, though somewhat roughly cooked, I did ample justice to. The skipper produced a bottle of claret and another of cognac, and pressed me to drink, but he himself, I observed, was very moderate in his potations.

"If I did not keep a cool head on my shoulders, the _Saucy Bet_ would soon get into trouble," he remarked; "still, that need not stop you from making yourself happy if you like."

He seemed very much surprised when I told him that I had no fancy for making myself happy in that fashion.

In the afternoon the wind fell, and we lay becalmed, floating down Channel with the ebb. The smugglers swore terribly at the delay, as they were in a hurry to get over to the French coast.

In the evening I walked the deck some time with the skipper, who was full of anecdotes. In the war time he had commanded a privateer, which had been tolerably successful, but his vessel had been captured at last, and he had spent some months a prisoner in France. He had on that occasion picked up a fair knowledge of French, which much a.s.sisted him, he said, in his present vocation. He was always on good terms with the mounseers, he told me, though he amused himself sometimes at their expense.

"Some of my chaps and I were ash.o.r.e one night, not long ago, taking a gla.s.s at a wine shop near the harbour, when a frigate came in, and a beauty she was, no doubt about that." He continued: "The Frenchmen began to praise her, and says one of them to me--

"'There, you haven't got a craft like that in the whole of your navy.'

"'I don't know what we've got,' says I; 'but if there comes a war we should precious soon have one, for we should have she.'

"You should have seen the rage the Frenchmen were in when I said that, and heard how they _sacred_ and swore. But I calmed them down by reminding them that they had taken some of our frigates, and that it was only to be expected that we should take some of theirs in return."

The captain gave me a side-berth in the little cabin, occupied generally, I found, by one of the mates. It was somewhat close, but I was soon asleep, and slept soundly until daylight the next morning.

By noon a breeze sprang up from the eastward, and under all sail we stood away to the southward. By nightfall we were well in with the French coast, but farther to the west than I expected.

"The tide will soon make in sh.o.r.e, and we must beat back to the eastward," observed the skipper. "You mustn't hope, howsomdever, young gentleman, to get ash.o.r.e till to-morrow morning."

This mattered little to me, as I had no great objection to spend a few hours more on board.

During the night I awoke, and found the vessel perfectly motionless.

"Can another calm have come on?" I thought.

I was going off to sleep again, when I heard a footstep in the cabin, and, looking out of my bunk, by the light from the swinging lamp I saw the skipper examining some papers at the table.

"Has the wind dropped again?" I inquired.

"No, we are at anchor; we have been chased by a _cha.s.se-maree_, and so, to escape her, we slipped in here; and here we shall remain perhaps for some days, till the coast is clear," he answered.

"In that case, captain, I shall prefer going on sh.o.r.e, and making my way overland to my friend's house. I shall find conveyances of some sort, I suppose?" I said.

"As to that I can't say. It isn't much of a place, but you may get along in a country cart, or hire a nag."

As I had no objection to seeing something of the country, I did not complain of this, and as soon as it was daylight I turned out.

Being anxious not to lose time, I got Captain Long to send me ash.o.r.e with my valise. A small cabaret being open, I intended to take up my quarters there until I could obtain some means of conveyance to the Chateau La Touche. A cup of coffee, which was at once offered me, enabled me to wait until a more substantial breakfast was prepared.

In the meantime I took a stroll through the village. It was a small place, and, as far as I could judge, primitive in the extreme. It was the first time I had been in France, yet, as I spoke the language pretty well, I felt myself perfectly at home. Indeed, the people I addressed took me for a Frenchman, and were extremely civil.

On getting back to the inn, the landlady asked me if I had been to see the wonderful animal which had been landed some time before by a fisherman, who had found him, she said, on board a vessel, navigating her all by himself.

"What sort of an animal?" I inquired.

"Ah, monsieur, they say it is a bear. It certainly looks like one, for it has a bear's head and claws, and a tail; but it does all sort of things that no other bear that I have heard of can do; and what is more strange, it can talk, though no one can understand what it says."

"I must go and have a look at this bear after breakfast," I said.

"Certainly monsieur would not leave our village without seeing so great a wonder," she replied. "My boy Pierre can show you the way. Jacques Chacot, who is the fortunate possessor of the bear, lives not more than a quarter of a league away to the west. He charges half a franc to each person to whom be shows his wonder, and the people come from far and near. He talks of taking his bear to Paris to exhibit it, and if he does he will surely make a fortune."

Though I was somewhat incredulous as to whether the bear could really speak, and had also a doubt as to the way the woman said the animal had been found, I felt curious to see it; and as soon as I had breakfasted, conducted by Pierre, I set out for the cottage of Jacques Chacot. On the way the boy amused me by giving further accounts of the strange animal we were to see.

We found a number of other people going in the same direction, for my landlady had given no exaggerated account of the curiosity which it had excited. Jacques Chacot evidently possessed the talent of a showman.

He had enlarged the front of his cottage so as to form a sort of theatre, the inner part serving as a stage. We found him standing at the door with a couple of stout young fellows, his sons, ready to receive visitors, for he allowed no one to go in until he had obtained payment. A strong bar was run across in front of the stage, which Jacques Chacot explained was to prevent the spectators from approaching too close to the bear, who, he observed, was sometimes seized with sudden fits of ferocity, and might, he was afraid, do some injury. The room was already half full when Pierre and I entered, and a considerable number of people came in afterwards. They were all country people, decently dressed, who behaved with the usual politeness the French exhibit when not excited by any special cause.

CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT.

LARRY'S DISGUISE.

At last Jacques Chacot, looking round the room, gave notice that his bear would at once commence his performance. In a short time a door opened, and he appeared, leading out what looked like a large brown bear, followed by one of his sons, carrying a couple of chairs. Jacques Chacot, who had in his hand a long pole with a sharp point to it, took his seat on one chair, and made signs to the bear to sit down on the other, which it immediately did. The lad then handed a gla.s.s of wine to the bear, which, making a bow to the audience, it drank off, putting the gla.s.s, it seemed to me, almost down its throat, in a very curious fashion.

Its keeper then ordered it to stand on its head, which it did with seeming unwillingness, kicking its hind legs up in the air.

"Now show mesdames and messieurs how you can dance," cried Chacot.

"Strike up, Jean," he added to his son, who, getting down a riddle from the wall, commenced sc.r.a.ping away, and producing a merry tune. Up got the bear, and began shuffling and leaping about, in a fashion which strangely resembled an Irish jig, at the same time singing in a voice which sounded remarkably like that of a human being. The audience applauded; but the bear at length, getting tired from its exertions, took a chair and sat itself down in a corner. On this Chacot shouted to it to go on; but the bear, being seized with sulkiness, refused, till the fellow, giving it a poke with his pole, the bear sprang up and recommenced its performance, Jean fiddling away as before.

"Now address the company, and give them an account of your adventures,"

said Chacot.

The bear on this got up, and, making another bow, uttered some words which certainly no one present could have understood. Listening attentively, I caught several words which sounded remarkably like Irish.

"Who are you, and where in the world do you come from?" I exclaimed in my native tongue.

No sooner had I uttered the words, than the bear made a spring right off the stage, and rushed towards me, exclaiming, "Arrah! I'm Larry Harrigan, Mr Terence dear! and shure you've found me at last?"

At the first movement the bear made the audience rushed from all parts of the room, trying to effect their escape through the door, while Jacques Chacot endeavoured to seize it, and to drag it back on the stage. Larry, however, was not to be hindered, and, grasping my hand, he held it in his s.h.a.ggy paws, his voice alone a.s.suring me who he was.

"Hands off from him, Chacot!" I cried out. "He is an honest Irishman whom I know well. If you injure him it will be at your peril. Stop, friends, stop!" I shouted to the people as they were escaping. "The bear will do you no harm; come and a.s.sist me." Jacques Chacot, however, fearing that the chance of making further gains by his prisoner would be lost, dragged him back by main force, while poor Larry, closely encased as he was in a skin, and padded out with pillows, was unable to help himself. At the same time, one of the sons, seizing his pike, threatened to run me through if I interfered.