The Congo Rovers Part 5

The mere idea, the bare suggestion of such a suspicion, was so absurd that I laughed at myself for my folly in allowing it to obtrude itself, even in the most intangible form, for a single moment on my mind. And yet, such is the perversity of the human intellect, I could not, in spite of myself, quite get rid of the extravagant idea that Monsieur Le Breton was in some inexplicable way cognisant of the outrage; nor could I forbear sketching, for Richards' benefit, as accurate a word-portrait as I could of the French lieutenant; and--I suppose on account of that same perversity--I felt no surprise whatever when he a.s.sured me that I had faithfully described to him the arch-pirate who had left him and his crew to perish in the flames. Indeed, in my then contradictory state of mind I should have been disappointed had he said otherwise. The man's conduct--his stealthy but searching scrutiny of the ship; his endeavour, as I regarded it, to mislead us with his broken English; and his excessive curiosity, as hinted at by Captain Vernon, had struck me as peculiar, to say the least of it, on the occasion of his visit to the _Daphne_. I had suspected _then_ that he was not altogether and exactly what he pretended to be; and _now_ Richards' identification of him from my description seemed to confirm, in a great measure, my instinctive suspicions, unreasonable, extravagant, and absurd as I admitted them to be. My first impulse--and it was a very strong one--was to take Mr Austin into my confidence, to unfold to him my suspicions and the circ.u.mstances which had given rise to them, frankly admitting at the same time their apparent enormity, and then to put the question to him whether, in his opinion, there was the slightest possibility of those suspicions being well-founded.

So strongly, so unaccountably was I urged to do this, that I had actually set out to find the first lieutenant when reflection and common sense came to my aid and asked me what was this thing that I was about to do. The answer to this question was, that with the self-sufficiency and stupendous conceit which my father had especially cautioned me to guard against, I was arrogating to myself the possession of superhuman sagacity, and (upon the flimsy foundation of a wild and extravagant fancy, backed by a mere chance resemblance, which after all might prove to be no resemblance at all if Richards could once be confronted with Monsieur Le Breton) was about to insinuate a charge of the most atrocious character against an officer holding a responsible and honourable position--a man who doubtless was the soul of honour and rect.i.tude. A moment's reflection sufficed to convince me of the utter impossibility of the same man being in command of a pirate-brig one day and an officer of a French man-o'-war the next. I might just as reasonably have suspected the _Vestale_ herself of piracy; and _that_, I well knew, would be carrying my suspicions to the uttermost extremity of idiotic absurdity. I had, in short--so I finally decided--discovered a mare's nest, and upon the strength of it had been upon the very verge of proclaiming myself a hopeless idiot and making myself the perpetual laughing-stock of the whole ship. I congratulated myself most heartily upon having paused in time, and resolved very determinedly that I would not further dwell upon the subject, or allow myself to be again lured into entertaining such superlatively ridiculous notions.

Yet only four days later I was hara.s.sed by a temporary recurrence of all my suspicions; and it was with the utmost difficulty that I combated them. I succeeded, it is true, in so far maintaining my self-control as to keep a silent tongue; but they continued persistently to haunt me until--but steady! Whither away, d.i.c.k, my lad? You are out of your course altogether and luffing into the wind's eye, instead of working steadily to windward, tack and tack, and taking the incidents of your story as you come to them.

The incident which revived my very singular suspicions was as follows:--

Upon learning the full details of Richards' story, Captain Vernon had come to the conclusion that the brig which destroyed the _Juliet_ was a vessel devoted to the combined pursuits of piracy and slave-trading; that she was, in all probability, one of the three vessels reported by the _Fawn_ as daily-expected to arrive on the coast from Cuba; and that it was more than likely her destination was the Congo. He therefore determined to make the best of his way back to that river, in the sanguine hope of effecting her capture; after which he intended to run down to Saint Paul de Loando to land the crew of the _Juliet_, Richards having expressed a desire to be taken there if possible.

It was on the fourth day after we had picked up the _Juliet's_ crew, and we were working our way back toward the mouth of the Congo, making short tacks across the track of vessels running the notorious Middle Pa.s.sage, when the look-out aloft reported a sail about three points on the weather-bow, running down toward us under a perfect cloud of canvas. It was at once conjectured that this might be Richards' late free-and-easy acquaintance outward-bound with a cargo of slaves on board; and the _Daphne_ was accordingly kept away a couple of points to intercept him, the hands being ordered to hold themselves in readiness to jump aloft and make sail on the instant that the stranger gave the slightest sign of an intention to avoid us. At the same time Mr Armitage, our third lieutenant, proceeded aloft to the main topmast crosstrees with his telescope to maintain a vigilant watch upon the motions of the approaching vessel.

All hands were of course in an instant on the _qui vive_, the momentary expectation being that the stranger would shorten sail, haul upon a wind, and endeavour to evade us. But minute after minute pa.s.sed without the slightest indication of any such intention, and very shortly his royals rose into view above the horizon from the deck; then followed his topgallant-sails, then his topsails, his courses next, and finally the hull of the ship appeared upon the horizon, with studding-sails alow and aloft on both sides, running down dead before the wind, and evidently going through the water at a tremendous pace.

Every available telescope in the ship was now brought to bear upon the craft, and presently her fore-royal and fore-topgallant-sail were observed to collapse, the yards slid down the mast, and the sails were clewed up, but not furled. The next instant the French tricolour fluttered out from her fore-royal-mast-head, the only position from whence it could be made visible to us; and simultaneously with its appearance the conviction came to us all that in the approaching vessel we were about to recognise our recent acquaintance the _Vestale_. Our ensign, which was already bent on to the peak-halyards, was promptly run up in response, whereupon the French ensign disappeared, to be instantly replaced by a string of signals. Our signal-book was at once produced, our answering pennant run half-mast up, and we then began to read off the following signal:

"Have you sighted?--"

Our pennant was then mast-headed to show that we understood; the flags disappeared on board the Frenchman, and another batch was run up, which, being interpreted, meant:

"Brig--"

This also was acknowledged, and the signalling was continued until the whole message was completed, thus:

"Same tonnage as--"

"Ourselves--"

"Hull--"

"Painted--"

"All black--"

"Steering west-north-west?"

The final string of flags then disappeared, and the _Vestale's_ answering pennant directly afterwards showed just above her topgallant yard, indicating that she had completed her signal and awaited our reply.

The entire signal then, freely interpreted, ran thus:

"Have you sighted a brig of the same tonnage (or size) as ourselves, with hull painted all black, steering a west-north-west course?"

We answered "No;" and, in our turn, inquired whether the _Vestale_ had seen or heard of such a craft.

The French gun-brig was by this time crossing our bows, distant about half a mile; her reply was accordingly made from her gaff-end, the fore- topgallant-sail and royal being at the same time sheeted-home and mast- headed.

It was to the following effect:

"Yes. Brig in question sailed from Congo yesterday, six hours before our arrival, with three hundred slaves on board."

By the time that this message had been communicated--by the slow and tedious process then in vogue--the two vessels were too far apart to render any further conversation possible, and in little more than an hour after the final hauling-down of the last signal the _Vestale's_ main-royal sank beneath the verge of the western horizon, and we were once more alone.

CHAPTER SIX.

IN THE CONGO ONCE MORE.

I have not yet, however, stated what it was in connection with our encounter with the _Vestale_ which served to fan my fantastic suspicions into flame anew, and, I may add too at the same time, mould them into a more definite shape than they had ever before taken.

It was Richards' peculiar conduct and remarks. He had manifested quite an extraordinary amount of interest in our _rencontre_ with the _Vestale_ from the moment of her being first reported from the mast- head, evidently sharing the hope and belief, which we all at first entertained, that the strange sail would turn out to be the brig which had served him so scurvy a trick a few days before.

It was easy to understand the excitement he exhibited so long as this remained a matter of conjecture, but when the conjecture proved to be unfounded I fully expected his excitement, if not his interest, would wane. It did not, however. He borrowed my telescope as soon as the brig became fully visible from the deck, and, placing himself at an open port, kept the tube of the instrument levelled at her until her topsails disappeared below the horizon again. I remained close beside him during the whole time, and his excitement and perplexity were so palpable that I could not refrain from questioning him as to the cause.

"I'll tell you, Mr Hawkesley," he replied. "You see that craft there?

Well, I could almost stake my soul that she and the pirate-brig were built on the same stocks. The two craft are the same size to a ton, I'll swear that; and they are the same model and the same rig to a nicety. It's true I was only able to closely inspect the other craft at night-time, but it was by brilliant moonlight, and I was able to note every detail of her build, rig, and equipment almost as plainly as I now can that of the brig before us; and the two are sister-ships. They carry the same number of guns--ay, even to the long-gun I see there on the French brig's forecastle. The masts in both ships have the same rake, the yards the same spread, and the running-gear is rove and led in exactly the same manner. The only difference I can distinguish between the two ships is that yonder brig has a broad white ribbon round her, and a small figure-head painted white, whilst the pirate-craft was painted black down to her copper, and she carried a large black figure- head representing a negress with a gaudy scarf wrapped about her waist."

"Um!" I remarked. "Lend me the gla.s.s a moment, will you? Thanks!"

The _Vestale_ was, at the moment, just about to cross our fore-foot, and was therefore about as near to us as she would be at all I focused the telescope--a fine powerful instrument--upon her, and could clearly see the weather-stains and the yellowish-red marks of rust in the wake of her chain-plates upon the broad white ribbon which stretched along her side. Evidently that band of white paint had been exposed to sun and storm for many a long day. Then I had a look at her figure-head. It was a half-length model of a female figure, beautifully carved, less than life-size, with one arm drooping gracefully downwards, and the other--the right--outstretched, with a gilded lamp in the right hand.

That, too, was weather-stained, and the gilding tarnished by long exposure. Those pertinacious, half-formed suspicions, which Richards'

words had stirred into new life were refuted; and yet, as I have said, I could _not_ shake them off, try as I would, and argue with myself as I would, that they were utterly ridiculous and unreasonable.

"Look here, Mr Richards," said I; "if you really _are_ as positive upon this matter as you say, I wish you would speak to Captain Vernon about it; it might--and no doubt _would_--help us very materially in effecting the capture of the pirate-brig. We have seen the _Vestale_ twice, and have had so good an opportunity to note her peculiarities of structure and equipment that we shall now know her again as far off as we can see her. If, therefore, we should ever happen to fall in with a brig the exact counterpart of the _Vestale_ in all respects, except as to the matters of her figure-head and the painting of her hull, I should think we may take it for granted that that brig will undoubtedly be the pirate which destroyed the _Juliet_. And you may depend upon it, my good sir, that it is that identical craft that the _Vestale_ is now seeking."

"Ye-es, very likely--quite possible," he replied hesitatingly, and evidently still labouring under the feeling of perplexity I had noticed.

Then, straightening himself up and pa.s.sing his hand across his forehead, as though to clear away the mental cobwebs there, he added: "I'll go and speak to Captain Vernon about it at once."

And away he accordingly walked to carry out his resolve.

We stood on as we were going until eight bells in the afternoon watch that day, when the ship was hove round on the larboard tack and a course shaped for Saint Paul de Loando, our skipper having come to the conclusion that the brig referred to in the _Vestale's_ signal was undoubtedly the craft which we had been on our way back to the Congo to look for, and that as, according to the gun-brig's statement, she was no longer there, we were now free to proceed direct to Saint Paul to land the burnt-out crew as soon as possible.

We entered the bay--upon the sh.o.r.e of which the town is built--about 10 a.m. on the second day after our last meeting with the _Vestale_, and, anchoring in ten fathoms, lowered a boat, in which Mr Richards and his crew were landed, Captain Vernon going on sh.o.r.e with them. The skipper remained on sh.o.r.e until 4 p.m., and when he came off it was easy to see that he was deeply preoccupied. The boat was at once hoisted in, the messenger pa.s.sed, the anchor hove up, and away we went again, crowding sail for the Congo. As soon as the ship was clear of the Loando reef and fairly at sea once more, Captain Vernon summoned the first and second lieutenants to his cabin, where the three remained closeted with him for some time, indeed the two officers dined with him; but, whatever the matter might be, neither Mr Austin nor Mr Smellie let fall a word as to its nature, though it was evident from their manner that it was deemed of considerable import.

When I turned in that night I felt very greatly dissatisfied with myself. Those outrageous suspicions, upon which I have dwelt so much in the last few pages, seemed to be gathering new strength every day in spite of my utmost endeavours to dissipate them, and that, too, without the occurrence of anything fresh to confirm them. I accordingly took myself severely to task; subjected myself to a rigid self-examination, looking the matter square in the face; and the conclusions to which I came were--first, that I had allowed myself to be deluded into the belief that the _Vestale_ herself was the craft which had committed the act of piracy of which poor Richards and his crew were the victims; and second, that I had been an unmitigated idiot for suffering myself to be so deluded. On going thoroughly over the whole question I was forced to admit to myself that there was not a particle of evidence incriminating the French gun-brig save what I had manufactured out of my own too vivid imagination; and I clearly foresaw that unless I could get rid of, or, at all events, conquer, this hallucination, I should be doing or saying something which would get me into a serious sc.r.a.pe. And, having at last thus settled the question--as I thought--to my own satisfaction, I rolled over in my hammock and went to sleep.

The breeze held fresh during the whole of that night; and the _Daphne_ made such good progress that by eight o'clock on the following morning we found ourselves once more abreast of Padron Point at the entrance to the Congo. Sail was now shortened; the ship hove-to, and the men sent to their breakfasts; the officers also being requested to get theirs at the same time.

At 8:30 the hands were turned up, the main topsail filled, and, under topsails, jib, and spanker, and with a leadsman in the fore-chains on each side, the sloop proceeded boldly to enter the river, under the pilotage of the master, who stationed himself for the purpose on the fore-topsail yard. This was a most unusual, almost an un-heard-of, proceeding at that time, the river never having been, up to that period, properly surveyed; so we came to the conclusion that there was something to the fore a trifle out of the common; a conclusion which was very fully verified a little later on.

It was just low water as we came abreast of Shark Point--which we pa.s.sed at a distance of about a mile--but we found plenty of water everywhere; and, stretching across the river's mouth, the _Daphne_ finally entered Banana Creek, and anch.o.r.ed in six fathoms close to a smart-looking little barque of unquestionable American nationality. The sails were furled, the yards squared, ropes coiled down, and decks cleared up; and then the first cutter was piped away, Mr Smellie at the same time receiving a summons to the skipper's cabin.

The conference between the captain and the second lieutenant was but a short one; and when the latter again appeared on deck he beckoned me to him and instructed me to don my dirk, as I was to accompany him on a visit to the barque. Just as we were about to go down over the side Captain Vernon appeared on deck, and, addressing the second "luff,"

said.

"Whatever you do, Mr Smellie, keep my caution in mind, and do not provoke the man. Remember, that if he _is_ an American--of which I have very little doubt--we cannot touch him, even if he has his hold full of slaves; so be as civil to him as you can, please; and get all the information you can out of him."

"Ay, ay, sir; I'll do my best to stroke his fur the right way, never fear," answered Smellie laughingly; and away we went.

A couple of minutes later we shot alongside the barque; and Smellie and I clambered up her side-ladder to the deck, where we were received by a lanky cadaverous-looking individual arrayed in a by no means spotless suit of white nankin topped by a very dilapidated broad-brimmed Panama straw-hat.