Roger Willoughby Part 14

"Come, my friend," said Captain Benbow, "agree to my proposal. Step on board; crack a bottle with Captain Coopman and me. Your men shall be entertained forward, and while the calm lasts you need be in no hurry to take your departure."

Without further hesitation Captain Bart agreed to the proposal.

"I trust to your honour, Captain Benbow," he said.

"You may rest a.s.sured that, as you have given your word to allow the _Elephant_ to continue her voyage unmolested, you will be able to leave this ship whenever you desire."

The three Captains were soon seated in the comfortable cabin of the _Benbow_ frigate. Captain Benbow, having regarded Captain Bart for an instant, put out his hand, exclaiming, "Why, we served together as lads for two years or more under Admiral Ruyter--surely I am not mistaken-- and saw a good deal of pretty hard fighting."

"You are perfectly right," answered Captain Bart. "I remained with him till I was twenty-one and a half years of age, when I returned to my native town of Dunkerque, not supposing at the time that I should have to fight against my old friends the Dutch."

"You and I must be about the same age, Captain Bart," observed Benbow, after they had been comparing notes of certain events which had taken place.

"I was born in the year 1650," said Bart.

"Very same year that I first saw the light," observed Benbow. "We both of us have been ploughing the salt water pretty nearly ever since."

"For my part I expect to plough it to the end of my days, as most of my ancestors have done; for we men of Dunkerque are born seamen, and fond of the ocean," said Bart.

"And to my belief I am the first of my race that ever went to sea," said Benbow.

Roger had been an interested listener to the conversation carried on in English, which Bart spoke remarkably well, as did Captain Coopman.

"Will you tell Captain Bart your adventure with the Moors' heads, sir?"

he said, thinking it would interest their guests.

The other Captain was eager to hear it, and Benbow gave the account, and told of the wonderful way in which Roger and Stephen had escaped.

"You acted bravely, my young friend," said Captain Bart, turning to Roger. "It required no small amount of nerve and courage to escape from the _Tiger_. Those Sallee rovers have become the pest of the ocean. I hope that my Government will send me in search of them, though for my part I would rather catch them alive than cut off their heads, as each Moor fetches a good price as a slave, and very useful well-behaved servants they make, always provided their tempers are not irritated, and it is prudent not to allow them to carry arms of any description."

After some time Captain Bart rose to take his leave. His men had, he found, been hospitably entertained by the crew of the _Benbow_ frigate.

Very loath to quit her, the Frenchmen, embracing their hosts in a most demonstrative manner, swore eternal friendship, expressing the hope that England and France would hereafter, as now, remain on friendly terms.

The Dutchmen had of late been suffering too much from the privateers of Dunkerque to regard the French with any amicable feeling, but wisely kept on board their own vessel.

"Now, Captain Bart," said Benbow. "I must trust to your honour not to interfere with our friend here."

"Certainly, certainly," answered Captain Bart, and shaking hands with his brother Captains, he stepped into his boat, which pulled leisurely towards his frigate.

"Now, my friend," said Benbow to Captain Coopman, "yonder Frenchman may be a very honourable person, but it is as well not to trust him more than we can help. I would advise you to make sail directly it becomes dark, so that you may put as wide a distance as possible between your two vessels before to-morrow morning. I will remain here and show my lights for some time longer, so that he will not know in what direction you have gone."

The Dutch Captain, considering Benbow's advice sound, promised to follow it. The calm continued till about half the first watch was over, when a light breeze sprang up from the northward, thus placing the English and Dutch vessels to windward of Jean Bart's frigate. The _Elephant_ immediately made all sail, and stood away for the Texel, not allowing a glimmer of light to proceed from her sides, and Captain Benbow trimmed his lanterns brighter than ever, and waited for an hour or more, when, a breeze freshening, he shaped a course for the Thames.

"Come," he said, "we have done a good turn to our Dutch friend; I hope that he will manage to escape from their clutches."

CHAPTER SEVEN.

We must now return to Eversden. Months had pa.s.sed by since Roger and Stephen had sailed from Bristol, and no news had been received of them.

At length one day Mr Battis...o...b.. made his appearance, having ridden over from Langton Park, and desired to have a word with the Colonel alone. He looked graver and sadder than usual.

"I bring you news," he said, "and I beg you to break it to my friend Willoughby. Our two sons, as you know, sailed in the _Dolphin_. The owners write me word that so long a time has elapsed since they heard of her without receiving tidings of her, that they are compelled to give her up as lost. She had not been heard of at any of the ports up the Mediterranean. It is within the pale of possibility that the lads may have escaped, yet surely we should have heard."

"G.o.d's will be done," said Mr Willoughby when he heard the account. "I will not give up all hope of their return, though what has happened to them it is indeed hard to guess; still there are chances by which they may have effected their escape."

Though he could not at all times hide his grief, yet he bore up remarkably well. The only person in the family who would not consent to believe that Roger and Stephen were lost was Alice Tufnell.

"If it had been known that the _Dolphin_ had gone down, and there was one survivor who could report that all the rest had perished, we might then believe that the ship had foundered," she said, talking to Madam Pauline. "Who can tell but that the _Dolphin_ may have been driven on the sh.o.r.e of some unknown island, whence the crew have been hitherto unable to escape? I have read of many such adventures. The ocean is very wide, and perhaps Roger and Stephen are even now living the lives of castaways, and engaged, may be, in building a vessel in which they will some day return home. If I were a man I should like to fit out a ship and go in search of them."

"My dear, such undertakings appear very easy to the imagination, but practically the matter is very different," answered Madam Pauline. "It would be like looking for a needle in a bundle of hay. Supposing that the two dear lads are still alive, you would not know in what direction to go. You might sail about the ocean for years and visit every known and unknown island, and yet not find them. We must have patience and simply trust in G.o.d's mercy to bring them back if He had thought fit to save their lives."

When, however, not only month after month, but year after year went by, and the young men did not make their appearance, even Alice began to lose hope of seeing them. She spoke of them less frequently than formerly, though a shadow of sadness occasionally crossed her fair brow, but yet little had occurred to draw out the character of Alice Tufnell.

She was determined and energetic, zealous in all she undertook; at the same time she was gentle and affectionate to those who had befriended her, with her sweet and loving disposition and sweet temper. Her voice was sweet and musical, and Madam Pauline and the Colonel delighted in hearing her singing. She was now about seventeen, her figure of moderate height, well rounded and graceful, while her countenance exhibited the serene and joyous spirit which dwelt within. She frequently accompanied the Colonel on a small pony, which had been Roger's, on his walks about the country. Sometimes she attended Madam Pauline, who, however, did not often extend her perambulations beyond the grounds or the neighbouring village. Why it was she had scarcely been able to say, but, when not engaged, Alice frequently made her way across the Downs to the top of the cliff, sometimes descending to Ben Rullock's cottage, not that she often found the old man at home, as he was generally out fishing, or gone away to Lyme, or some other place on the coast, to do commissions for the villages. Sometimes she would sit in Roger's favourite nook, at others would pace up and down on the cliffs, gazing out over the ocean, now blue and calm, and sparkling in the sunlight, now of a leaden hue, covered with foaming seas which came roaring up on the beach with a thundering sound. Of course she more frequently came when the wind was light and the water calm, and she could sit and gaze at them with satisfaction.

She had one day gone down to old Ben's cottage. Not finding him at home, she had strolled along the beach till she turned with her face towards Lyme, when she observed a boat slowly rowing along the sh.o.r.e.

That must be old Ben's, and he probably has Toby with him, and they appear to have a pa.s.senger. It was curiosity perhaps which tempted her to linger for the arrival of the old man, to hear the news from Lyme, as it reached that place generally a day or two sooner than Eversden. She waited, now stooping to pick up a sh.e.l.l, now to mark with a stick she carried in her hand how far the sea had risen on the beach. Looking up as the boat drew near, she observed that the pa.s.senger had risen; as he did so he lifted his hat, but he again sat down as old Ben and Toby pulled rapidly in for the beach, up which they ran the bows of the boat.

The stranger then stepping out advanced towards her, and once more bowed.

"Miss Alice Tufnell?" he said in a tone of inquiry.

"That is my name," she answered, looking at him with a somewhat doubtful expression. He was a young man, tallish and thin, with a complexion burnt to a dark brown, his countenance showing that he had undergone toil, if not probably also sickness and suffering.

"How do you know my name?" she asked.

"What, Alice! what, Miss Tufnell! don't you remember Stephen Battis...o...b..!" exclaimed the stranger.

"Is it possible?" she exclaimed, putting out her hand and gazing at his face. "I knew you were not lost; I always said so. And Roger, my dear brother Roger, why has he not come with you? Where is he?" she asked in an anxious tone.

"He is serving with the brave Captain Benbow. Though he longed to come and see you all, yet he would not quit his ship till she arrives in the Thames, and not then unless there is time to come down here and return before the Captain again puts to sea. Roger is wedded to a sailor's life, notwithstanding the dangers he has already run in following it; but he bade me give his best and truest love to you, Miss Alice, and his father and uncle and aunt."

Mistress Alice lingered for some time on the beach, so interested in listening to what Stephen was telling her, that she forgot he might desire to be proceeding homewards to relieve the anxiety of his own family. At length, however, Stephen suggested that they should proceed towards Eversden, when she led the way by the narrow path up the cliff.

They then walked on, somewhat slowly it must be confessed, which was but natural, that Stephen might have time to narrate some of his adventures since the loss of the _Dolphin_. Madam Pauline was the first person they met, and she uttered an exclamation of surprise as she saw Mistress Alice approaching with a strange young gentleman, with whom she appeared on terms of intimacy.

"Who do you think he is, aunt?" asked Alice.

"Roger; no, he cannot be Roger; surely he must be Stephen Battis...o...b..!"

"You are right in your conjecture, my dear Madam Pauline," said Stephen; and the little French lady, seizing both his hands and looking into his face kindly, then hurried him off to see the Colonel and Mr Willoughby, to whom he had to narrate, as briefly as he could, his and Roger's adventures, and give the messages which his friend had sent by him. Mr Willoughby was anxious to see Roger before he again sailed, but his difficulty was to know where to find him.

"I must write to Master Hands...o...b..," he observed; "he will ascertain when the _Benbow_ frigate comes into port, and will easily convey a message on board desiring him to come, and requesting the Captain to give him leave."

After partaking of some refreshment served to him by the fair hands of Mistress Alice, Stephen set off to return home. Next morning he came back to Eversden. He omitted in his hurry, he said, to pay old Ben Rullock for bringing him from Lyme. He invited Mistress Alice to accompany him to the beach.

"It is a path I have often trod alone of late," she answered, "and I know not why I should hesitate in accompanying you."

As Madam Pauline did not forbid her, she accompanied Stephen. Their conversation was probably interesting to themselves, but it need not be recorded. Stephen, of course, had a vast deal to tell her of his adventures, which she had not hitherto heard. This made them linger on the way, and sit down on the top of the cliffs, that they might converse more at their ease.

Certain it was that Madam Pauline considered it her duty to chide Mistress Alice for being away so long from home, although Stephen took the blame on himself by saying that he had to wait for some time to see old Ben, who was out in his boat, but he promised to try and keep better time in future. Day after day, on some excuse or other, he returned to Eversden. His father, he said, had written to his friend Mr Kempson at Bristol, who would, he believed, restore him to his position in the counting-house, while he hoped, from the encouragement he had before received, that he should soon make a satisfactory income, which would enable him to set up house for himself. He did not venture to say who would share his fortune with him, or to hint that Mistress Alice might be interested in the matter.