Stories by English Authors: The Sea Part 9

Bet I guess there'll be a complaint lodged at Washington, and you folks in London will have to pay for it. That's all, mister. I only want things fair and square, within my treaty rights."

And having delivered himself of this long speech, the Yankee skipper turned on his heel.

Of course O'Riley could only return to the Petrel and report all this to his commander. "I'm convinced she is a slaver, sir," said he in conclusion.

"But you have no evidence of it; and you say the papers were all in order."

"Apparently they were, sir."

"Then I'm afraid I can do nothing," said the commander. And to the deep disgust of the whole ship's crew, the order was given for the Petrel to return to her course.

All that night, however, Commander Neville was haunted by a doubt whether he had not better have run the risk of a complaint and a reprimand, rather than forego the overhauling of so suspicious-looking a craft; and in the morning a rumour reached his ears that the c.o.c.kswain, who had accompanied Mr. O'Riley to The Black Swan, had noticed something about her of a doubtful nature. The man was sent for and questioned; and he said that, while the lieutenant was on board, the boat of which he was in charge had dropped a little way astern; and that he had then noticed that the name of the vessel had been recently painted out, but that the last two letters were distinctly visible. And these letters were LE, not AN.

"The scoundrel said she was a new ship!" cried the commander. "'Bout ship!"

"We can't possibly catch her up, sir," said the first lieutenant, drily.

"I don't know that, Mr. Brabazon," answered Neville. "There has been hardly any wind, and we know the course she was steering. She could not expect to see us again; so in all probability she has kept to that course. By making allowances, we may intercept her; I am convinced of it."

The hope of again encountering The Black Swan, faint as it was, caused quite a commotion in our little world. The day pa.s.sed without our sighting a single sail; but when the morning dawned Lieutenant Brabazon was forced to own that the commander's judgment had proved better than his own. By the greatest good luck we had hit upon the right track. There, right in front of us, was the American schooner, her sails lazily flapping against her masts.

"Full speed ahead, and stand by!" shouted the captain down the engine-room tube.

"Signal to her to heave to, and if she does not obey, fire a shot right across her bows, Mr. O'Riley," continued the commander.

"Mr. Brabazon, you take a boat and thirty men well armed. Board her, and have her hatches off at once. You'll stand no nonsense, I know."

"All right, sir," cried the lieutenant, an active, somewhat imperious officer, of the Civis Roma.n.u.s sum type. He had been unusually disgusted at his commander's decision to leave The Black Swan without searching her; and he was delighted that a more active policy had been begun.

"I say, Brabazon," whispered the commander to him, as he was going over the side, "you know I'm stepping a bit beyond bounds, and I'm just a little anxious. If she turns out to be a slaver, as we suspect, step to the taffrail and wave your handkerchief, will you?"

"I will, sir; I'm certain it will be all right," cheerfully responded the first lieutenant.

A tall, slim, youngish man, in white linen, received the British officer as he set foot on the deck of The Black Swan.

"I am at present in command of this craft, sir," said the young American. "The skipper is not fit just at present. We had a visit from you two days ago, I think. Can I do anything for you?"

"Yes; I want you to take off your hatches," said the lieutenant, sharply.

"Well, sir," began the Yankee, "I guess your demand is beyond your treaty powers."

"I know all about that. I must have the hatches off."

"And you are detaining me and overhauling my cargo on no grounds whatever--"

"Will you do it at once?" broke in the British officer.

"I repeat--ON NO GROUNDS WHATEVER; will cause an in--ter--na--tional difficulty, and may bring re--markably unpleasant con--sequences to your captain. Now--"

"Off with your hatches!" cried the lieutenant.

"Sir!"

"If you don't, by George, I will!"

"You know clearly what you're doing, sir?"

"I do."

"And you know the risk you run?"

"I do. No more palaver. Off with them at once, or I'll break them open."

Further resistance was useless. The thing was done; and the moment the first hatch was raised the sickening effluvium that issued from the hold proclaimed the truth. Nearly three hundred slaves were packed between-decks, many of the poor creatures standing so close that they could not lie down.

With a look of speechless contempt at the young mate of the schooner, the lieutenant walked to the side of the ship and waved his handkerchief. That instant a loud British cheer rang over the water, given by the blue-jackets, who could be seen cl.u.s.tering in the rigging like bees.

"I told our skipper judgment would overtake us," said the Yankee.

"Say, mister," he added, in another tone, "seeing that the game's up, suppose we have a gla.s.s of iced champagne downstairs?"

The lieutenant hesitated. To drink with the mate of a slaver!

But--iced champagne!

Slowly he moved toward the companionway. "I don't mind if I do,"

he said, at length; "and you may as well bring up your papers with the drinks, for I shall carry them on board the Petrel. Of course you understand that you are my prize."

And having set a guard at the hatchways, the lieutenant descended the cabin stairs.

The iced champagne was duly forthcoming, and under its genial influence Lieutenant Brabazon began to feel something like pity for the young mate who had been so early seduced into the paths of crime. Probably he had a mother or a sweetheart somewhere in the States who imagined that he was already on his way home, whereas now his character was ruined, even if he escaped a long term of imprisonment.

This feeling was strengthened as he saw that his companion was gazing mournfully at his gla.s.s without speaking a word. At length the young man lifted his head.

"Say, mister, what'll they do to me, do you think?"

"I can't tell. Of course you know that what you have been engaged in is a kind of piracy?"

"No!"

"I believe so. Cargo and crew are confiscated, of course. What they will do with you I can't tell."

"They won't hang me, will they?"

"Probably not," said the lieutenant; "but let this be a warning to you. You see what it is to wander off the straight course and hanker after forbidden gains. Lead an honest life in future, when you are released from custody. Avoid vicious companions--But what's this?" he cried, as his eye fell on an empty scabbard hanging on the wall. It looked very like a United States service sword scabbard, and immediately the thought darted through his mind that this hypocritical young Yankee (who had been pretending to wipe away a tear as he listened to the lieutenant's good advice) had been doing something worse, or at least more heavily punished, than running cargoes of slaves.

The British officer looked round the cabin. A United States navy cap was lying on a plush-covered bench.

"Ah! you've been having a brush with an American man-of-war!" cried Lieutenant Brabazon. "You will have to tell my superior officer how you came into possession of these articles. I most place you under arrest!" And, bitterly regretting that he had sat down to table with the fellow, the British officer rushed on deck.

"Quartermaster," he cried, "bring up a guard of four men, and take this man," pointing to the Yankee, who had followed him on deck, "to the Petrel. If he tries to escape, shoot him at once!"