Lochinvar: A Novel

The town of Lis was small, and its harbor but a shallow basin into which at high-water half a dozen fishing-boats at most might enter. There were few people about the long, straggling, shoreward street, and there was none of the cheerful bustle and animation characteristic of a Dutch town at evening. For many of the men were away serving in the armies of the States-General, and most of the others were at the fishing off the banks of Texil. In the harbor itself they saw nothing to suit their purpose, and none at whom to ask a question. Nor did so much as a dog bark at them.

But on the shingle outside of the harbor, at a place where a ledge of rock ran up out of the sea, with the waves gently washing one side of it, there was drawn up a ship's boat of moderate dimensions, and beside it, seated on the stern with his legs dangling over the painted name, lounged a curious-looking individual, smoking a short, small-bowled pipe. He was a youth, of years numbering somewhere between eighteen and thirty – of the sleek-faced, beardless sort that does not change much for twenty years. The most boundless self-sufficiency marked his appearance and attitude. When he saw Wat and Scarlett approach he rose lazily, stretched his long, lank legs, turned his back on them in a marked manner, and gazed seaward from under the level palm of his hand.

"I bid you good-evening," said Scarlett, saluting Sir Stork as politely as if he had been the stadtholder of Lis; "can you tell us if in this town there are any boats that may be hired to take certain passengers to Rotterdam?"

For they thought it well, in any bargaining, to give out that city as their port, and to change the destination after they had got to sea – by persuasion or by force of arms, if necessary.

"That do I not," replied the unknown, promptly, in good English, though Scarlett had spoken in Dutch.

"But the boat upon which you are leaning?" pursued Scarlett, "is she not a vessel which a man may hire for a just price?"

The lad took three draws of his pipe in a consequential way before answering. He tapped the bowl meditatively on his thigh.

"This boat," he said, at length, "of which I am in charge, is the property of Captain Smith, of the Sea Unicorn, a distinguished English merchantman, burgess of the town of Poole – and I am responsible for her safekeeping till such time as she can be conveyed to that town."

"It is indeed both an onerous and an honorable task," quoth Scarlett, "and one that could only be intrusted to a man of sense and probity – and I am sure from your appearance that you are both."

Wat Gordon was getting tired of this bandying of words, and showed symptoms of breaking in. But as the youth looked seaward Scarlett dug his companion in the side with his elbow, in token that he was to be silent. Old Jack had an idea.

"Captain Smith was perhaps overtaken by the late storm," he said, warily, "and so compelled to leave his long-boat behind him?"

"Aye, and Wise Jan Pettigrew (for so I am nominated in all Poole and Branksea) was left in charge of it," said the youth, with proud consequence. "An important cargo was taken out to the Sea Unicorn in this boat, I warrant, and one that will bring a high price when Captain Smith comes to reckon charges with the owner of that pretty thing."

"Ah, Wise Master Jan Pettigrew, but you carry as pretty a wit and as shrewd a tongue in that head of yours as I have met with for many a day," said Scarlett, in a tone of high admiration.

"So – so," said Jan Pettigrew, complacently crossing his legs again on the boat and taking deeper and deeper whiffs of his refilled pipe.

"Aye, marry! a shrewd tongue and a biting. And whither might this treasure be going?" asked Wat, with more anxiety on his face than he ought to have shown. Scarlett darted an angry glance at him, and the tallowy youth, taking his pipe out of his mouth and holding it in his hand, regarded him with slowly dawning suspicion.

"The matter is naturally a secret of my noble employer's," he replied, with dignity, "and of Captain Smith's. It has not been communicated to me with the idea of my retailing it to any chance idler on the beach who happens to come asking insolent questions."

"Certainly you are right, and very well said, Master Pettigrew," said Scarlett, with admiration. "Wat, my lad, that settles you, I am thinking. The gentleman has his secrets, and he means to keep them. And mightily prudent of him, too. But as to this boat," he went on, "your master cannot mean you to take her along the coast by yourself all the way to meet him in Hamburg?"

"My master has not gone to Hamburg," cried Jan Pettigrew, "but first of all to his own town of Poole, or at least to a place near by, which is also a secret with himself and with those who have the honor to serve him, and in whom he reposes confidence."

Scarlett once more glanced round reprovingly at Wat.

"Ah, let this be a lesson to you, young sirrah," he said; "see how carefully and yet how politely this gentleman can keep his master's secrets? Truly, this is a fellow to be trusted."

Wise Jan Pettigrew puffed and blew upon his pipe with such swelling importance, that finally he choked and went off into a fit of coughing which threatened to end him once for all. For he was but loosely hung together, of bilious complexion, and with a weak, hollow chest. But all the time of his coughing he was struggling to tell something which pleased him, choking at once with laughter and with the reek which had gone the wrong way when Scarlett tickled his vanity with flattering words.

"Oo-hoo," he cried, chokingly, "and the cream of the joke —oo-hoo– is that the captain, being a widower, is sure to fall in love with the lass himself. And at Poole town, when his madcap daughter comes aboard at Branksea, as she ever does, I warrant it that she makes the fur to fly. Would that I had been there to see! 'Twill be a rare lillibullero! She'll pipe up Bob's-a-dying!"

Wat's eyes gleamed like a flame, but Scarlett darted a side-look under his brows at him, so swift and fierce that he started back and was silent. "For the love of God," the look said, "hold your fool's tongue and let me finish what I have begun."

"Master Jan Pettigrew," quoth Scarlett, still more seductively, "you are a man after my own heart. Fain would I go a little cruise, as it might be for pleasure, with a man of your wit and discretion. I tell thee what – Captain Smith cannot be back for a long season. Now we two are anxious to go on a little pleasure-trip to England. There is a mast in the boat. The wind and weather are fair. We have both of us got good Dutch guilders in our pouches. You, like other brave campaigners, have, I doubt not, both sore need of such and a bonny young lass of your own in Poole, or elsewhere, to spend them upon. Why should not we three put the boat's head towards England this fine brisk night, with the wind in our quarter, and boldly steer our way thither? Would it not surprise Captain Smith greatly and make much for your advancement if he should see his long-boat come sailing in after him safe and sound? And how famous would Master Jan Pettigrew be then! Why, every coastwise ship-master would be eager to give him a fine vessel to command, on the strength of such a deed of seamanship! – while all the maids would go wild for his favor, and the home-staying lads would run crazy for very green envy for him."

As Scarlett spoke the pursing of Jan Pettigrew's mouth gradually slackened and the corners widened, till his countenance became in truth a finely open one – most like that of the monk-fish when he lies at the bottom of the sea with his jaws wide for sticklebacks and codlings to venture within. At the picture of his triumphant return his dull eyes glistened, and when Scarlett spoke of his fortune among the maids, he slid down from the boat and slapped his thigh.

"Ods fegs, I'll risk it – I have more than half a mind. But" – he scratched his head and hesitated – "the provisions for such a cruise – they will cost much?"

He looked cunningly at Scarlett, who motioned with his hand behind him to Wat. Lochinvar slid an arm about his waist and undid his belt, from which he took a couple of gold pieces. These he put into Scarlett's beckoning palm.

"The provisions, sayest thou?" quoth Scarlett, deftly jerking one of these into his pocket. "Have no care for that. Here is one piece of gold for you – go into the village of Lis and buy whatever may be necessary for our voyage. And," he continued, "there is no need to tell a man of the understanding of Jan Pettigrew that, when talking to the yokels of Lis, we are only going a little voyage to the Banks to catch the saith and limber-cod."

Scarlett rubbed his finger along the side of his nose with such contagious cunning that Jan also rubbed his and leered back at him in as knowing a manner.

"Trust Wise Jan," he said; "not a word shall they know from me – I am as deep in counsel as a draw-well. There is no bucket can draw aught from my mind unless my will be the rope to pull it up withal."

"Haste you, then," said Scarlett; "speak not to the people at all, for safety's sake, but come back quickly with the provender. And in the mean time my friend and I will fill the casks and beakers with water, so that we may be ready to start as soon as you return."

CHAPTER XXIII

WISE JAN WAXES WISER

Jan Pettigrew started with the gold piece in his hand to get the provisions in the town of Lis-op-Zee. So soon as he was out of sight Wat Gordon was in the long-boat hunting about like a terrier dog. His eye had caught the least touch of bright color among the rubbish in the stern of the boat. He was on his knees presently, holding a bit of ribbon in his fingers which in hue appeared like the stone called aquamarine, or, as one would say, blue and green at the same time. He pressed it with passion to his lips.

"It is my love's!" he cried. "It is most surely hers. Thrice I saw her wear it about her beautiful neck! She must have sat in this boat not so many hours since."

"And what else do you suppose I have been getting out of that incredible lout, all the while you were staring at this bit of ribbon and trying to get in your silly word and spoil everything?" said Scarlett, testily. For sleeplessness and his companion's impatience had certainly been trying to the temper.

But Wat continued to cherish his ribbon to the exclusion of all else. He had had but little to feed his affection upon, poor lad, ever since he had been clapped behind iron bars – and, indeed, not so very much before that.

Wat and Scarlett carried the cask and beakers to a spring which they found in an old overgrown garden not far from the harbor. They made a convenient stretcher by removing part of the rough decking from the bottom of the long-boat, and carrying the vessels to and fro upon that. They had hardly returned for the last time when they descried Wise Jan Pettigrew coming back along the shore with a whole army of helpers at his tail, carrying parcels and packages innumerable. He was in the full tide of discourse to them.

"Ye see, lads," he was saying, as he came up, "my father was a man from Amersfort that came to England; and desiring to settle there, he had dealings with my mother, who was a farmer's daughter in the county of Dorset. And in due time he married her – yes, in good sooth, he married her, and that is why I am called Jan Pettigrew. For my father must have me called Jan. He would hear of nothing else. Whereat my mother, not to be beaten, swore that some part of my name should carry with it a good old English smell. So Jan Pettigrew I was christened, of my mother's surname, with my father standing by and never daring so much as to say a word!"

The louts of Lis were chuckling and nudging each other with suppressed laughter, for it was obvious that Wise Jan Pettigrew had been looking most unwisely upon the Hollands when it gave its color aright in the cup. However, they hastened to plant their parcels and stores in the long-boat, and meantime they gazed with wide-open eyes at Wat and Scarlett.

"These honest gentlemen," said the wise and reticent Jan, "are for the fishing. Oh yes, they are for the fishing" – his finger went to his nose – "you all understand, lads, the fishing. Then when we come back to Lis here to make a declaration to the burgomeister of the number and weight of the fine fish we have taken on the Banks, why, there will be drink at the Three Castles for every honest fellow here!"

He would have said more, but Scarlett, growing suddenly tired of his clatter, tumbled him unceremoniously into the boat, and cried out to the men of Lis:

"Here's good silver for whoever will give us a hand that the boat may be launched – silver to drink the health of the prince this very night at the inn of Lis in sound, stark Hollands!"

The men and boys, hearing this, gave a rousing cheer, and setting their strength to the long-boat of the Sea Unicorn, they rattled it down the pebbles and out into the heave and murmur of the incoming tide. Scarlett ran his hands through the pockets of Jan Pettigrew's clothing, and handed all the small silver which he found there – a round handful – to the tallest of the 'prentice lads.

"There," he said, "drink the prince's health, and if there be any over, drink to the health of Captain Smith of the Sea Unicorn, and of all his crew and passengers."

And at this liberal and comprehensive toast the lads on shore again cheered, as men with drink in prospect will cheer at anything.

There was still a rousing breeze astern, and making Jan Pettigrew keep awake so that he might at least direct them in the necessary manœuvres, Wat and Scarlett proceeded to erect the mast and unbend the sail with ignorant, unseamanlike hands. But after a little, under guidance, they did featly enough, so that the distance widened, and they saw with delight the shores of Holland drop back and the solemn, waffing windmills stand up in a long row out of the polder.

"Now for England and Kate!" cried Wat, as though they had already found both.

Jan Pettigrew, who had become noisier and more oracular, so soon as he found himself on the lift and heave of the sea, and the boat began to cradle buoyantly among the short waves, cried out to Wat and Scarlett to set the foresail. This Wat attempted to do, but, though he found the small triangular sail readily enough, he could neither attach it to the bowsprit nor yet bend it properly.

Then Jack Scarlett did a thing which exceedingly astonished Master Jan. That wise youth was lying in the stern-sheets, with his pipe in his hand, content to issue commands, and laughing and sneering at the landsmen's awkward manner of executing them.