The Unspeakable Gentleman Part 28

"Would you mind telling me," he inquired, "what became of my crew? You bribed them, I suppose."

"There was only an anchor watch on deck when we came on board," said Mr.

Sims. "We drove them below quite easily. The only man who gave us any trouble was your master. We had to hit him over the head when he reached the deck."

My father nodded slowly, seemed to lose his balance on the rolling deck, recovered himself, and set his feet a trifle wider apart.

"I am sincerely sorry for you, Mr. Sims," he said.

But if Mr. Sims ever asked why, it was in another life than ours. I recall his sudden bewilderment, but I never have understood exactly how it happened. I remember Brutus' eyes on my father's hand, as it moved so gently over his coat. It must have been some gesture, smooth and imperceptible. For suddenly, my father's languor left him, suddenly his lips curled back in a smile devoid of humor, and he leapt at the lantern.

He leapt, and at the same instant, as perfectly timed as though the whole matter had been carefully rehea.r.s.ed, Brutus' great bulk had streaked across the deck, crashing towards Mr. Sims like an unleashed fury. The speed of it, the unexpectedness, the sheer audacity, held the men around us motionless. Mr. Sims had barely time to level the pistol he was holding; but when he fired the deck was in darkness.

"This way, Mademoiselle," came my father's voice, and I ran towards it.

"Hold them off, Brutus," he was calling. "Ha! It is you, my son."

While he was speaking, he darted lightly aft, and I followed. Behind me came the confused babel of struggling men. Someone was calling for a light, and someone was shrieking for help. A man with a lantern was running forward. I tripped him and we fell together, and then I felt a hand on my collar. It dragged me to my feet. I struck at it blindly, while I felt myself being half pulled, half carried through the black.

And then I heard my father's voice again, close beside me, as slow and cold as ever.

"Close the door, Brutus," he said. "Listen to them. They must think we are still there."

And then I knew what had happened. Brutus had dragged me with him, and we were in a cabin. I heard my father fumbling about in the dark.

"Ah," he said, "here is the powder. Load these pistols, Brutus. Gently, you fool! Do you want to kill me?"

"You are hurt, captain," cried Mademoiselle.

"It is not worth troubling over," said my father. "And you, my lady, you are quite all right? I fear I handled you roughly. I was afraid for a moment we might be inconvenienced."

"And now," I said sarcastically, speaking into the darkness before me, "I suppose our troubles are over."

"I think so," replied my father. "Now that Brutus has thrown Mr. Sims overboard. It might be different if he were still with us. He seemed to be a determined and resourceful man. We are in the after cabin, Henry, quite the pleasantest one on the ship, and not ten paces from the wheel."

Still out of breath, still confused, I tried to look, but could see nothing. I could only smell the pungent odor of tarred rope and stale tobacco smoke. Having finished speaking, I could hear my father still moving about deliberately and moderately, seemingly well pleased at the place where we had been driven.

"Yes," he said again, "not ten paces from the wheel, and now we will finish it."

"Will you never be serious, sir?" I cried. "Do you suppose they are going to let you take charge of the ship?"

"I think so," replied my father. "But first, I must take a swallow from my flask. There is nothing like a drink to rest one. Open the port by the door, Brutus."

And I felt him groping his way past me.

"Brutus," he said, "pa.s.s the flask to my son, and give me a pistol, and steady, me with your arm--so. Ah, that is better--much better...."

He fired, and the sound of his pistol in the closed room made my ears ring, and then the ship lurched, so that I had nearly lost my balance. We were rolling heavily, in the trough of the sea, and outside the canvas was snapping like a dozen small arms, and then I knew what had happened.

My father had shot the man at the helm--shot him where he stood, so that the wheel had broken from his grasp, so that the ship was out of control, and the wind was blowing it on sh.o.r.e. Had he thought of the plan while he was watching Mr. Sims in the light of the lantern? I half suspected that he had not, but I never knew.

"Open the door, Brutus," said my father, and suddenly his voice was raised to a shout that rose above the wind and the sails.

"Keep clear of that wheel! If a single man touches it--do you hear me?--Stand clear!" And he fired again, and the _Sea Tern_ still lurched in the trough of the sea.

I ran to the door beside him. Ten paces away the light of the binnacle was burning, and by it I saw two men lying huddled on the deck, and the ship's wheel whirling backwards and forwards as the waves. .h.i.t the rudder.

"Get the wheel!" someone was shouting frantically. "Get the wheel! She's being blown on the bar. Get the wheel!"

"Stand clear, you dogs," called my father. "We're all going on the bar together."

"Brutus," he added, "go forward and open the forecastle, and tell my men to clear the decks. If any of these fools notice you, kill them, but they won't, Brutus, they won't. Their minds are too much set on a watery grave."

The ship heeled far over on her side as another gust of wind took her.

Six men were clinging to the rail to keep their balance, staring at my father with white faces, while sea after sea swept over the bulwarks.

Three of them were edging toward us, when a wave caught them and sent them sprawling almost to his feet.

"Your sword, Henry," called my father. I ducked under his arm, and stepped out on the swaying deck, but they did not wait.

"Ah," said my father, "here they come. Brutus was quicker than I could have hoped."

"Aiken!" he shouted, "are you there? Put up that helm, or we'll be drowned. Put up that helm and get your men on the braces. D'you hear me?

Get some way on the ship."

A hoa.r.s.e voice bellowed out an order, and another answered.

"Good," said my father. "It was a nearer thing than I expected. You can hear the breakers now. Give me your arm, my son. A lantern, Brutus."

XVI

And so it was over, over almost before I could grasp what had happened.

The light that Brutus was holding showed me the white walls of the cabin, with charts nailed upon them. A table was secured to the deck, with two chairs beside it. These, two lockers and a berth made up the cabin's entire furnishings. But I hardly took the time to look about me, for the sight of my father gave me a start of consternation. His blue coat, wringing wet with sea water, and still stamped with splashes of mud, was half ripped from his shoulders. A piece of lace dangled like a dirty ribbon from his neck. The powder in his hair was clotted in little streaks of white. His face was like a piece of yellow parchment. His left arm hung limp by his side, and in his right hand he still clutched an empty pistol. He tossed it carelessly to the floor, and gripped the back of the nearest chair, staring straight at Mademoiselle, who was standing opposite, his cloak still about her. Slowly he inclined his head, and when he looked up he was smiling.

"You are quite all right, my lady?" he asked anxiously. "I am sorry you have been startled. Believe me, I did not realize this little surprise would be waiting for us. It was careless of me not to have thought, very careless. Help her to a chair, Henry."

"Will you always be polite?" she cried, with a little catch in her voice.

"Will you never think of yourself? You are wounded, Captain. And what are you staring at?" she cried, turning to me. "Come here, sir, and help me with his coat."

My father sank into a chair, and his pale lips relaxed.

"Pray do not concern yourself," he replied gravely. "I think of myself, Mademoiselle, of myself always, and now I am very fortunate, but the blue from my coat is running on your dress. Brutus will see to me, Mademoiselle. He is quite used to it. The rum, Brutus. You will find it in the starboard locker."

But it was Mademoiselle who found the bottle and poured him a gla.s.s. He drank it quickly.

"Again, if you please," he said, and a shade of color returned to his cheeks. "The water was uncommonly cold tonight. How much better the sea would be, if the Lord had mixed in a dash of spirits. There is a coat in the locker, Brutus, and you may find some splints and a piece of twine. I fear my arm is broken."

Mademoiselle had taken Brutus' knife and was cutting away his sleeve, half soaked with blood. He sighed and smiled a little sadly.