Roger Willoughby Part 21

"I have a cask of salted herrings, some dried cod, and I will see what my good wife, who is out marketing, can supply when she comes home,"

said the pilot. "May be we shall find some bread and other things in the village."

Fortunately for the fugitives the goodwife soon returned home. On hearing the account they gave of themselves, she seemed to take as warm an interest in them as did her husband, by her exertions. Joe Savin and his mate being summoned, the little vessel was quickly provisioned.

There was still some time of daylight when they finally went on board, having bid farewell to the old pilot and his wife.

"Now, Joe, let us get under weigh," said Stephen. "As I have been to sea I can lend you a hand, and will either take the helm or help you forward."

"You will take the helm, and let the other young men come forward and do as I tell them," said Joe, eyeing Simon's muscular form and Andrew's active figure. "We are stronger-handed than usual, for even when old Mr Headland is aboard, though he has got a head on his shoulders, he has not much bodily strength remaining." The main-sail was soon set, the anchor, with the a.s.sistance of Andrew and Simon, quickly hove up and secured, when the little vessel began to glide out of the cove. They had just got off the southern point of the bay when they saw a number of men running along the cliff towards them. As Stephen was steering he did not observe them particularly, but Andrew and Simon, after attentively looking at them, exclaimed, "They are soldiers!"

As they caught sight of the boat, the soldiers were seen to beckon vehemently, as if to call her back.

"Very unlikely that we will do that," said Stephen. "The fellows have somehow or other found out who we are, and old Mr Headland will, I fear, be the sufferer."

"If those soldiers want us, should not we put back?" asked Joe.

"The very reason we should not," said Stephen. "We should do no good, and should certainly have our voyage delayed."

Just as he was speaking the sail gave a flap; the boat was becalmed under the high ground.

"Get out the oars, lads; we must make the best of our way from the sh.o.r.e."

Joe and the lads got out the oars, and Andrew and Simon a.s.sisted them to pull. They had not made many strokes before several shot came whistling over their heads.

"Pull away," cried Stephen; "we shall soon be out of range, and in a few minutes will catch the breeze again."

The soldiers once more fired; two bullets struck the boat, but did no damage; the third went through the main-sail. The soldiers shouted and gesticulated more vehemently than before. The party in the boat, at Stephen's suggestion, took not the slightest notice of them, though they pulled on with might and main till the breeze once more filled the sails and rapidly freshened. The boat now stood away to the southward, and was soon out of range of the soldiers' muskets.

"Perhaps after all we shall be followed," remarked Andrew.

"No fear of that," said Joe. "There is not a man left in the harbour to take out a boat; the chances are the soldiers are not able to pull themselves or they would have been after us by this time. See, the breeze is freshening, and by nightfall we shall be well away from the land."

This information greatly relieved the minds of the fugitives; they had now every hope of getting free, and, should the fine weather continue, be able to land in Holland. Stephen's chief anxiety was for the old pilot; the horses would very likely be taken from him, and he might too probably be carried off as a prisoner for having enabled rebels to escape. Though they had not witnessed the cruelties practised by Colonel Kirk and his lambs, Simon had told him of what he had heard, and of the hundreds who had been hung up on the Buss.e.x oak directly after the action. They were justly afraid that Mr Headland might be treated in the same cruel manner; and "if we had gone back we could have done no good," Stephen said to himself over and over again. For some hours the weather continued fine, and the boat made fair progress, but towards midnight a dark bank of clouds rose to the eastward, threatening a gale.

"What do you think of it, Joe?" asked Stephen.

"We shall catch it, but the boat will float like a cork; we will shorten sail in good time, though we shall not make much of our way towards Holland till it is over, I have a notion."

The boat, it should be understood, was only half-decked; but she had good high sides, and was provided with water-ways, so that unless the gale should prove of unusual violence, they had no reason to fear for their safety. Though Andrew had lived near the sea, he had seldom been afloat, and Simon had never even seen the ocean before. At first he had been highly pleased with its appearance, but now that he saw the dark leaden foam-topped waves rising up, he began to look as if he would rather have been safe on sh.o.r.e; but he was a stout-hearted fellow, and was not disposed to give way to idle fears. The boat began to pitch and tumble about, and to take the water over her bows.

"I will go to the helm now," said Joe to Stephen, "for though I see you know how to handle a boat in smooth water, it is a very different matter in a heavy sea."

Stephen gladly gave up the helm, and stood by with the lad to shorten sail, should it be necessary. Two reefs had already been taken down, and the little vessel went bobbing away over the dark foaming seas, making but little progress. She might, as Joe affirmed, be the best sea-boat out of Kenway Cove, but she was certainly not a fast craft, and was inclined to make as much way to leeward as she did ahead. She was now standing over to the French coast, but Stephen and his friends were unwilling to land there except in a case of great necessity. Should they be discovered, the French Government, who were friendly with James, would be very likely to hand them over to him. Their only hope was to get into some retired place on the coast of Normandy, where they might live unnoticed, and engage themselves in fishing or some other employment. The wind increased; now the rain came down in torrents, drenching through those who were but ill-protected, old Joe, in a thick woollen coat, and a pipe in his mouth, and a tarpaulin drawn down over his head, looking as unconcerned as if it were a fine summer day. He advised Andrew and Simon to get into the cuddy.

"You ain't of much use," he observed, "and there is no reason why you should get wet through to do no one good. Mr Stephen here may do as he pleases; we are likely enough to want his help; he has shown that he can give it."

Andrew and Simon, though they did not feel complimented, followed the old sailor's advice, but the tossing and the tremendous thumps which they heard every instant against the bow of the vessel, effectually prevented them from going to sleep, and made them wish to get out again.

They felt also very sick and uncomfortable: the cuddy was hot and close. The gale increased, and old Joe deemed it necessary to take down the last reef and lower the fore-sail, keeping only the small storm-jib set. The operation took some time, and while Stephen was a.s.sisting in shifting the jibs, a sea struck the bows, and carried him off his legs.

Providentially he clung to the forestay, or he would have, the next instant, been overboard; but he saved himself. He got the storm-jib hauled well on board before the next sea struck the vessel. Sail being reduced, everything was made snug, and he came aft. Looking into the cuddy, he inquired how his friends were getting on.

"Very badly," they both answered. "How soon is the gale likely to be over?"

"It is impossible to say," he answered. "It may likely enough come on to blow harder; we shall then have to heave the vessel to, and wait till it decreases."

Andrew and Simon groaned on hearing this, and wished themselves safe on sh.o.r.e. In a few minutes Joe determined to heave the vessel to, which was done under the storm-jib and mizzen, while the main-sail was lowered down and stowed. When morning broke, there the little vessel lay, riding on the leaden seas, and the dark clouds overhead, and ma.s.ses of spray driving against her. Old Joe said they were pretty nearly about the spot where they were the night before--no nearer the French coast, no farther from that of England. There seemed to be little likelihood of the gale abating. Joe put the lad, who had been sleeping most of the night, to watch the helm while he took a snooze. The rest of the party had slept but little. Stephen had not closed his eyes, but he now felt very weary, and could no longer keep awake, so he lay down in the cuddy, caring less for the thumping sound than Andrew had done. He slept on for some hours in spite of wind whistling in the rigging, the roaring of the seas, which ever and anon broke over the little vessel, half filling her with water. Old Joe got the pump rigged, and bade Andrew and Simon, as they could do nothing else, work away at it. He kept them at it till their arms ached, but it was far better than being idle. At last Stephen got up; he proposed that they should have some food, as neither of his friends had taken anything since the previous evening. At first they declared that they could get nothing down. He persuaded them to try. Following his example, they succeeded better than they had expected, and were able again to turn to the pump. With an easterly gale such as they were now experiencing, there is generally a clear sky, but on this occasion, clouds ma.s.sed on clouds came rushing along from the North Sea. Though hove-to, as far as old Joe could calculate, about mid-channel, the little vessel was drifting fast to leeward, farther and farther from the direction which those on board desired to go. Old Joe proposed at length that they should run back to some port on the English coast. Against this Stephen protested. They had had a narrow escape as it was, and wherever they might put in, they would be nearly certain to be suspected.

"Then we must bear up for a French port," said Joe.

"That will only be a degree better," observed Stephen.

"Well, then, it is a choice of evils," said Joe. "If we do not get into some port or other, and it should come on to blow harder than it does now, the chances are the craft will go down. Better to be taken by the French."

"We will hope that the gale won't increase," said Stephen, who having thus far succeeded in escaping from his enemies, was not inclined to despair. His brother and Simon were more out of spirits about the matter. Still it seemed probable that the gale would increase; not a break appeared in the clouds. As long as the provisions lasted, and the boat could keep above water, Stephen determined to remain at sea. The boat, however, was leaking considerably, and the provisions were becoming exhausted, so that even should the gale moderate they could scarcely hope to reach a Dutch port before their food would have come to an end. All day long the little vessel lay tossing about. They spoke little, though they had much to think about. Their thoughts were not such as they could give expression to before others. Joe, who was generally a cheery old fellow, sat looking glum and downcast.

"It is all very well for you to say you won't go back, but if we don't, as I said before, we shall go to the bottom."

Still Stephen was determined to attempt to get on as soon as the gale had abated. He knew that it was as dangerous to run before the seas, when there would be a great probability of being p.o.o.ped, as to remain hove-to. That they had been drifting down channel he was aware. How far they had got it was difficult to say. To attempt to make the land they might fail to enter any sheltering harbour, and might be cast on some rocky sh.o.r.e, where the vessel would be lost. Stephen argued the point with old Joe.

"Well," replied the latter, "you must be answerable for whatever happens. Remember, if the craft goes down it is your fault, not mine."

Stephen was half inclined to smile at what Joe said, and willingly undertook to be responsible for whatever should occur, and going to the pump, set to work to encourage his companions. Thus they continued tumbling and tossing about as they had been doing for many hours. At length, overcome with fatigue, Stephen lay down in the cuddy, hoping to s.n.a.t.c.h a short rest. How long he had been asleep he could not tell, when he was awakened by a loud crash. Starting up, he saw to his dismay that the mast had gone by the board. Old Joe was equal to the emergency. "Get out the oars, lads, and we will try and keep the craft's head to wind, while I cut away the wreck. It is our only chance, for if she is brought broadside to the sea, she will fill in an instant and go down."

Tom Peddler, accustomed to obey old Joe, promptly got out one of the oars, while Andrew and Simon got out the other; Stephen, springing aft, went to the helm. Joe soon cleared the mast, the b.u.t.t end of which had been battering away against the side of the boat, threatening to knock a hole in her. By considerable exertion she was kept head to wind, while in a few minutes old Joe, who had been looking out, shading his eyes with his hands, declared that the gale was breaking. Soon a light was seen to shine forth between the clouds to the eastward, and it became evident that the wind, having played them this cruel trick, was going down. Though they had to pull hard to prevent the boat from being swamped, still, as long as they could do that, they hoped at all events to save their lives for the present. Though, after all, they should be compelled to put into a French port, to do so was not altogether hopeless, as they would have the excuse of coming in for the sake of getting a fresh mast. The wind continued to go down, and the sea to decrease so much, that their exertions were greatly lessened. They were able to enjoy a better meal also than they had taken. They had just finished, when Andrew, who was on the look-out, exclaimed--"I see a white sail away to the east. See, the canvas shines like snow against the clouds."

Joe jumped up at hearing this, and took a look at the stranger, which he p.r.o.nounced to be a large ship bearing directly down for them. "Whether friend or foe, we cannot escape her; but if she is Dutch we are in no danger. I do not know how a Frenchman would treat us. We have most to dread from one of our own ships; more's the shame it should be so."

As there was no necessity any longer for keeping the oars going, all on board anxiously watched the approaching ship.

"She is a man-of-war, I have little doubt," said Joe. "Carries fifty guns. She is English, too," he added; "she has hoisted her ensign at the peak."

"Remember we have but one simple tale to tell," said Stephen to Andrew and Simon; "we are bound for Holland. We must neither show fear nor surprise if we are taken on board. Merely ask the English Captain to supply us with a mast and the necessary rigging, in place of the one we have lost."

In a short time the frigate was up to the little vessel. A boat was lowered, and a lieutenant and midshipman came in her.

"What has brought you into this condition, friends?" asked the former, looking at Joe.

"Oh," replied Joe, "a sudden squall carried away our mast."

"The Captain's orders were to bring your boat alongside," said the lieutenant. "Get out your oars; we will soon tow you there."

Just then Stephen, who had been looking at the midshipman, exclaimed, "Roger Willoughby!"

Roger started up and cried out, "Stephen Battis...o...b..! I should not have known you, you look so thin and careworn. What has brought you out here?"

"My brother and I and our friend are going to seek our fortune in Holland," answered Stephen, who would rather not have had his name mentioned.

As the lieutenant was in a hurry to obey his orders, he directed Joe to heave him a tow-rope, and the little vessel was quickly carried alongside the ship. On the deck Stephen saw his old commander Captain Benbow, who, however, did not recognise him, dressed as he was in countryman's clothes.

"What brought you out here, my men, in mid-channel?" asked the Captain.