Hunting the Skipper: The Cruise of the «Seafowl» Sloop
Roberts had been ordered to take his place in the stern sheets, and as he descended the rope he darted a look of triumph at Murray, whose face was glum with disappointment as he turned away; and as luck had it he encountered Mr Anderson’s eyes.
“Want to go, Mr Murray?” he said, smiling.
“Yes, sir, horribly,” was the reply.
“Off with you, then. Be smart!”
The next minute the lad had slipped down by the stern falls to where the officer in command made room for him; the hooks were cast off, the oars dipped, and the stout ash blades were soon quivering as the men bent to their work with their short, sharp, chopping stroke which sent the boat rapidly over the waves.
“I don’t see the Yankee captain,” said Mr Munday, searching the side of the vessel, which was now flying English colours.
“You think that fellow with the lugger was the captain?” asked Murray.
“Not a doubt of it,” was the reply. “I wonder what he’ll have the impudence to say.”
“He’ll sing a different song, sir,” said Roberts, “if he is on board.”
“If? Why, of course he’ll be on board; eh, Murray?”
“Most likely, sir; but won’t he be playing fox in some fresh way? He may be in hiding.”
“If he is he’ll come out when he finds a prize crew on board, and that his schooner is on its way to Capecoast Castle or the Cape. But I don’t see him, nor any of the sharp-looking fellows who formed his lugger’s crew.”
“No, sir,” said Murray, who was standing up shading his eyes with his hand. “I hope – ”
The middy stopped short.
“Well, go on, sir,” cried the lieutenant – “hope what?”
“That we are not making a mistake.”
“Oh, impossible! There can’t be two of such schooners.”
“But we only had a glimpse of the other, sir, as she sailed down the river half hidden by the trees,” said Murray.
“Look here, Mr Murray, if you can’t speak sensibly you’d better hold your tongue,” said the lieutenant angrily. “The captain and Mr Anderson are not likely to make a mistake. Everybody on board was of opinion that this is the same vessel.”
“Then I’ve made a mistake, sir,” said the midshipman. “But that can’t be the skipper, sir,” and he drew attention to a short, stoutish, sun-browned man who was looking over the side.
“Of course it is not, sir. Some English-looking fellow picked to throw us off our guard.”
But the officer in charge began to look uneasy as he scanned the vessel they were rapidly nearing, till the cutter was rowed alongside, several of the crew now plainly showing themselves and looking uncommonly like ordinary merchant sailors as they leaned over the bulwarks.
Directly after the coxswain hooked on, and the lieutenant, followed by two middies and four of the well-armed sailors sprang on board, to be greeted with a gruff —
“Morning. What does this here mean?”
“Why didn’t you heave to, sir?” cried the lieutenant sharply.
“’Cause I was below, asleep,” said the sturdy-looking skipper. “Are you the captain of that brig?”
“No, sir. What vessel’s this?”
“Because,” said the skipper, ignoring the question, “you’d better tell your captain to be careful. He might have done us some mischief. Any one would think you took me for a pirate.”
The lieutenant made no reply for a minute or two, being, like his two young companions, eagerly scanning the rather slovenly deck and the faces of the small crew, who were looking at their invaders apparently with wonder.
“Never mind what we took you for,” said the lieutenant sharply, and in a tone of voice which to Murray suggested doubt. “Answer me at once. What schooner’s this?”
“Don’t be waxy, sir,” said the skipper, smiling good-humouredly. “That’s reg’lar English fashion – knock a fellow over, and then say, Where are you shoving to! What’s yours?”
“H.M.S. Seafowl,” said the lieutenant haughtily. “Now then, will you answer?”
“Of course I will, Mr Lieutenant. This here is the schooner Laura Lee, of Bristol. Trading in sundries, machinery and oddments, loaded out at Kingston, Jamaica, and now for the West Coast to take in palm oil. Afterwards homeward bound. How does that suit you?”
Roberts and Murray exchanged glances, and then noted that the men were doing the same.
“Your papers, sir,” said the lieutenant.
“Papers?” said the skipper. “All right, sir; but you might put it a little more civil.”
“I am doing my duty, sir,” said the lieutenant sternly.
“All right, sir, all right; but don’t snap a man’s head off. You shall see my papers. They’re all square. Like to take anything? I’ve got a fine bottle or two of real Jamaica below.”
“No, sir; no, sir,” said the lieutenant sternly. “Business if you please.”
“Of course, sir. Come along to my cabin.”
“Lead on, then.”
The skipper took a few steps aft, and Roberts followed his officer, a couple of the sailors closing in behind, while two others with Murray kept the deck in naval fashion, though there seemed to be not the slightest need, for the schooner’s men hung about staring hard or leaned over the side looking at the men in the cutter.
“Here, I say,” said the skipper sharply, “I should have thought you could have seen plain enough that what I said was quite right. What do you take me for? Oh, I see, I see; your skipper’s got it in his head that I’m trading in bad spirits with the friendly niggers on the coast yonder; but I ain’t. There, I s’pose, though, you won’t take my word, and you’ve got to report to your skipper when you go back aboard.”
“If I do go back to report, sir,” said the lieutenant.
“If you do go back, sir? Oh, that’s it, is it? You mean if you take my schooner for a prize.”
“Perhaps so, sir. Now then, if you please, your papers.”
The skipper nodded and smiled.
“All right,” he said; “I won’t turn rusty. I s’pose it’s your duty.”
The papers were examined, and, to the officer’s disappointment, proved the truth of the skipper’s story.
“Now, if you please, we’ll have a look below, sir,” said the lieutenant.
“Very good,” said the skipper; and he hailed his men to open the hatches. “You won’t find any rum puncheons, captain,” he said.
“I do not expect to, sir; but I must be sure about your fittings below. This schooner has not been heavily rigged like this for nothing.”
“Course she arn’t, sir. I take it that she was rigged under my eyes on purpose to be a smart sailer worked by a smart crew. But my fittings? Here, I’ve got it at last: you’re one of the Navy ships on the station to put down the slave-trade.”
“Yes,” said the lieutenant shortly.
“Then good luck to you, sir! Hoist off those hatches my lad; the officer thinks we’re fitted up below for the blackbird trade. No, no, no, sir. There, send your men below, or go yourself, and I’ll come with you. You’ve got the wrong pig by the ear this time, and you ought to be off the coast river yonder where they pick up their cargoes. No, sir, I don’t do that trade.”
The lieutenant was soon thoroughly satisfied that a mistake had been made, and directly after, to his satisfaction, the skipper asked whether the captain would favour him with a small supply of medicine for his crew.
“I’m about run out of quinine stuff,” he said. “Some of my chaps had a touch or two of fever, and we’re going amongst it again. It would be an act of kindness, sir, and make up for what has been rather rough treatment.”
“You’d better come on board with me, and I’ve no doubt that the captain will see that you have what is necessary; and he will be as apologetic as I am now for what has been an unpleasant duty.”
“Oh, come, if you put it like that, squire, there’s no need to say any more. To be sure, yes, I’ll come aboard with you. I say; took many slavers?”
“No; not one.”
“That’s a pity. Always search well along the river mouths?”
“Yes.”
“Hah! They’re about too much for you. Now, if I was on that business, say I was on the lookout for these gentlemen, I shouldn’t do it here.”
“Where, then?” said the lieutenant eagerly.
“Well, I’ll tell you. As I said, they’re a bit too cunning for you. Of course you can sail up the rivers and blow the black chiefs’ huts to pieces. Them, I mean, who catch the niggers and sell ’em or swap ’em to the slave skippers; but that don’t do much good, for slavers slip off in the dark, and know the coast better than you do.”
“Yes. Well, what would you do?” said the lieutenant eagerly.
“Do? Why, I’d go across to the plantations, sir, and lay wait for them there. They wouldn’t be half so much on the lookout.”
“There’s a good deal in what you say, sir,” said the lieutenant thoughtfully. “But where would you watch – round Jamaica?”
“Nay-y-y!” cried the skipper. “I’d study up my charts pretty thoroughly, and then cruise about those little islands that lie nigh the Cays. There’s plenty of likely places where these folk land their cargoes; and you’d find them easier to work than the West Coast, where there’s a wilderness of mangrove creeks and big and little rivers where a slaving schooner can lie up and hide. You go west and try. Why, I could give your captain half-a-dozen plantations where it would pay him to go – places where I’ve seen often enough craft about the build of mine here.”
“Indeed!” cried the lieutenant.
“Yes, sir,” said the skipper thoughtfully. “Why, of course; I never saw before how likely you were to take me for one of ’em. Well, you want to go, so I’ll have one of my boats lowered down and come over to your brig. I’ll ask your skipper for a bit of quinine, and then if he’ll lay out his charts before me, I’ll put his finger upon three or four likely spots where the slavers trade, and if he don’t capture two or three of their fast boats loaded with the black fellows they’ve run across, why, it won’t be my fault. I should like to see the whole lot sunk, and the skippers and crews with them. Don’t sound Christian like o’ me, but they deserve it. For I’ve seen them landing their cargoes. Ugh! It has been sickening, and they’re not men.”
The skipper’s words were broken in upon by the report of a gun from the Seafowl, whose commander had grown impatient from the long delay of the boat; and hence the imperious recall.
Captain Kingsberry’s countenance did not look calm and peaceful when the boat returned, but the clouds cleared away when the skipper came on board and a long conversation had taken place over the charts of the West Indian Islands and the Caribbean Sea.
“Quinine, captain?” he exclaimed at last. “My good sir, you may have all the medicine – well, nearly – that I have on board!”
“Thankye, sir,” said the bluff skipper, laughing. “Enough’s as good as a feast of that stuff.”
“And I’m very sorry,” said the captain politely, “that I had to overhaul your schooner.”
“I arn’t,” said the skipper. “I’m very glad, and thankful too for the physic stuff. Fever’s a nasty thing, sir, and as I said, I’m very glad. Good luck to you, sir, and good-bye.”
“There’s no doubt this time, Mr Anderson,” said the captain, as soon as the skipper had gone over the side, “that man’s as honest as the day.”
“That he is, sir, and so is his schooner.”
“Yes, Mr Anderson. Now, then, let’s go back to those charts, and we’ll then make right for the plantations. I begin to think that we shall do some business now.”
Chapter Eighteen.
Rather Fishy
“What!” said the first lieutenant sharply. “Now, look here, Mr Roberts – and you too, Mr Murray, for you are just as bad. You both give yourselves airs, and though you say nothing you are always showing off, trying to impress the men with the idea that you are men grown.”
“I beg your pardon, sir – ” began Roberts.
“Now, don’t deny it, sir. I know it for a fact. Do you think that I can’t read you through and through – you in particular, Mr Roberts, for you are far the worst. Not that you have much to boast about, Mr Murray.”
“I am very sorry, sir,” said the latter. “No, you are not, sir,” said the chief officer abruptly. “Let’s have deeds, not words. If you were really sorry that you had been playing the imitative monkey you would pitch the antics overboard.”
“Antics, sir?” cried Roberts. “Yes, sir – antics. I said antics,” cried the officer sharply, “so don’t repeat my words and force me to do the same. A boy’s a boy, sir, and a man’s a man. A good boy is a rarity on shipboard, but very valuable when you get him; and a good man – a really good man at sea is worth his weight in gold; but I detest a hobbledehoy who apes the man, and I generally look upon him as worthless. Don’t grunt, Mr Roberts. It’s disrespectful to your superior officer. You might very well follow the example of Mr Murray, who never resents reproof when he deserves it. There, you need not make that disparaging grimace. You might follow Mr Murray’s example in a good many things. Now, I am sure he would not have come and asked leave like you did. It must have been your idea alone.”
“I’m afraid I had as much to do with it as Roberts, sir,” said Murray frankly.
“More shame for you to have to own it, sir,” said the first lieutenant; “but I like you to own up all the same. Still, I don’t like two young fellows who are trying to impress their elders that they are men to be seizing every opportunity to prove that they are mere boys with all the instincts wide awake of children.”
“I’m very sorry, sir,” said Roberts again, this time very stiffly. “I am sorry I asked for permission.”
“I don’t believe you, Mr Roberts,” said the officer stiffly. “Now, both of you tell me this – are you perfectly efficient in your navigation?”
Roberts uttered a snort.
“No, sir,” said Murray, “of course not. I’m a long way off being perfect.”
“Then why in the name of common sense don’t you seize upon every opportunity to master that grand study, like a man, and not come bothering me like a little boy who wants to go out to the pond to catch tittlebats? I’m ashamed of you both.”
“It was only to have a little recreation, sir,” said Murray.
“What do you want with recreation, I should like to know? Do you ever see me running after recreation?”
“No, sir,” said Murray; “but then, sir, you’re a first lieutenant.”
“Yes, sir, and that’s what you will never be so long as you hanker after childish pastimes.”
“I’m very sorry, sir – ” began Murray.
“Don’t keep saying you are very sorry; it only makes the matter worse, when I have so much upon my mind. It’s absurd, gentlemen. I wonder at you. Just because you see a few dolphins and albicores swimming below the ship’s counter you must want to begin playing with the grains. There, be off, both of you. What would be the good of the fish if you harpooned them?”
“Make a nice change for the table, sir. The cook said – ”
“Hang the cook!” cried the officer angrily. “What are you laughing at?”
“Only smiling, sir.”
“And pray what at? Is there anything peculiar in my face?”
“No, sir,” said Murray merrily. “I was only thinking of the consequences if we two obeyed your orders.”
“Orders! I gave no orders.”
“You said, hang the cook, sir,” said Murray.
“Rubbish! Absurd! There, I told you both to be off. I’m not going to give you leave to play idle boys. If you want leave, there’s the captain yonder; go and ask him.”
“He’d only say, sir, why didn’t we ask leave of you.”
“And very proper too,” said the first lieutenant, “and if he does say so you can tell him I would not give you leave because I thought it waste of time for young men who want to rise in their profession. What was that you muttered, Mr Murray?”
“I only said to myself, sir, ‘All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.’”
“Yes; very true, my lad,” said the officer, with a grim smile. “I’m not unreasonable, and I’d give you leave; but perhaps you had better ask your chief.”
“Thank you, sir,” said Murray.
“And look here, Murray; if you get permission, be careful. I don’t want the routine of the ship to be interfered with and my men set hovering about to pick up a couple of useless idlers, and every one upset by the cry of a man overboard – I mean, a boy.”
“I’ll try not to be that boy,” said Murray, smiling; and the chief officer gave him a friendly nod and walked forward.
“Bah!” grumbled Roberts. “There’s favouritism.”
“Nonsense!”
“’Tisn’t. He always favours you.”
“Not he.”
“To turn upon us like that just because it’s almost a calm! A growling old snarly! I never saw such a temper. Now he has gone forward to set the men to do something that doesn’t want doing.”
“He’s a bit out of temper this morning because the skipper has been at him about something.”
“Yes; I heard him at it. Nice pair they are, and a pretty life they lead the men!”
“Oh, well, never mind that. Tom May has got the grains and the line ready, and I want to begin.”
“A boy! Apeing a man, and all that stuff!” muttered Roberts. “I suppose he never was a boy in his life.”
“Oh, wasn’t he! There, never mind all that.”
“But I do mind it, sir,” said Roberts haughtily, as he involuntarily began to pass his fingers over the spot just beneath his temples where the whisker down was singed. “I consider that his words were a perfect insult.”
“Perfect or imperfect, what does it matter? Come on, sir. I want to begin harpooning.”
“What do you mean by that?” cried Roberts, turning upon him angrily.
“What do I mean?”
“Yes; by using the word sir to me in that meaning way.”
“You got on the stilts, and I only followed suit. There, there, don’t be so touchy. Go on and ask the skipper for leave.”
“No, thank you. I don’t want to play the idle boy.”
“Don’t you? Then I do, and what’s more, I know you do.”
“Then you are quite wrong.”
“If I’m wrong you told a regular crammer not half-an-hour ago, for you said you’d give anything for a turn with the grains this morning.”
“I have no recollection of saying anything of the kind,” said the lad angrily.
“What a memory! I certainly thought I heard you say so to Tom May; and there he is with the line and the jolly old trident all ready. There, come on and let’s ask the chief.”
“If you want to go idling, go and ask him for yourself. I’m going down to our dog-hole of a place to study navigation in the dark.”
“Don’t believe you, Dicky.”
“You can believe what you please, sir,” said Roberts coldly.
“All right. I’m off, and I shall ask leave for us both.”
“You dare! I forbid it,” cried Roberts angrily.
“All right,” said Murray, turning on his heel, “but I shall ask for us both, and if you mean to forbid it you’d better come with me to the skipper.”
Murray waited a few moments, standing watching the captain where he was marching up and down the quarter-deck, and timing himself so as to meet him full as he walked forward.
Roberts hesitated for a few moments and then followed closely, looking fiercely determined the while.
“Well, Mr Murray,” said the captain sharply, as he became aware of the presence of the lad, who touched his cap. “What is it – a petition?”
“Yes, sir. A good many bonito are playing about the bows.”
“Yes; I saw them, my lad. Want to go fishing – harpooning?”
“Yes, sir. Roberts and I.”
“Oh yes, of course, my lad. A good time for it, and I shall expect a nice dish for the cabin table. But look here, Mr Murray, I like to keep to the little forms of the service, and in cases of this sort you had better ask Mr Anderson for leave. You understand?”
“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir,” said Murray.
“No, no; I have not given you permission. Ask Mr Anderson. He will give you leave at once.”
Murray saluted; the captain marched on; and directly after the two midshipmen were face to face.
“Then you have dared – ” began Roberts.
“Yes, all right,” said Murray, laughing to himself, for he noticed that his companion spoke in a low tone of voice so that his words might not be heard by their chief. “Yes, it’s all right, only we’re to ask Anderson.”
“Yes, I heard what the skipper said, but I tell you at once I’m not going to stoop to do anything of the kind. Do you think I’m going to degrade myself by begging for leave again?”
“No, old chap, of course not,” cried Murray, thrusting his arm beneath his companion’s. “I’ll do all that. But you must come now. Don’t let’s keep Tom May waiting any longer.”
“But I tell you that – ”
“Hush! Hold your tongue. Here’s Anderson coming.”
“Well, young gentlemen,” said that officer, coming up sharply, “have you asked the captain?”
“Yes, sir, and he said that he would give us leave, but that he should prefer for us to ask your permission.”
“That’s right, my lads; quite right,” said the first lieutenant, speaking quite blandly now. “You’d better start at once, for I don’t think this calm is going to last. Who is going to help you?”
“Tom May, sir.”
“Oh yes, I see. A very good trustworthy man. Mind, we shall expect some fish for dinner.”
“He’s a humbug, that’s what he is,” said Roberts angrily. “Blowing hot and cold with the same breath. I’ve a good mind to – ”
“Come and have the first try? And so you shall, old chap. Look alive! We must get a good dish now, and for the lads too.”
“Oh, I don’t want to have anything to do with it,” grumbled Roberts.
But his companion paid no heed to his words, for just then Tom May, who had been watching their proceedings as he waited until the permission had been obtained, stepped out to meet them, armed with the trident-like grains and fine line, looking like a modern Neptune civilised into wearing the easy-looking comfortable garb of a man-o’-war’s man, and offered the light lissome staff to Murray.
“No, no,” cried the lad. “Mr Roberts is going to have the first turn.”
“I told you I didn’t – ” began Roberts, with far less emphasis, but Murray interrupted him.
“Best from the fore chains, won’t it, Tom?”
“Yes, sir. Hold on with the left fin and strike with the right.”
“Yes, of course. Now then, Dick, over with you; and don’t go overboard, or I shall have to come after you.”
“Better let me make a slip-knot for you, sir,” said the man, “so as you don’t lose your line and the grains at the same time.”
The midshipman’s lips parted for him to make another protest – a very faint one – but before he had spoken a word the sailor threw a running noose over his wrist, and, unable to resist the temptation of playing the part of harpooner of the good-sized fish that were playing in the clear water not far below the surface, he climbed over the bulwark and took his place in the chains outside the blocks which secured the shrouds, gathered the line in loops, and grasped the shaft of the long light implement, which somewhat resembled a delicately made eel spear, and stood ready to plunge it down into the first of the swiftly gliding fish which played about the side.
“I say, Dick,” cried Murray eagerly, “don’t be in too great a hurry. Wait till you get a good chance at a big one.”
“All right,” replied the lad, who at the first touch of the three-pronged spear forgot all his sham resistance and settled himself in an easy position with his left arm round one of the staying ropes, standing well balanced and ready to dart the implement down into one of the great beautifully-marked mackerel-natured fish, which with an easy stroke of its thin tail, shaped like a two-day-old moon, darted along the side, played round the sloop’s stem, plunged beneath the keel and appeared again, to repeat its manoeuvres so rapidly that its coming and going resembled flashes of light.
“I’ll have one directly,” said Roberts, after letting two or three chances go by, “and you, Tom, when I spear one and haul him up, you take hold of the fish just forward of his tail, where you can grip him easily.”
“Close up to his flukes, sir?” said the man, cocking one eye at Murray with a droll look which suggested the saying about instructing your grandmother. “All right, sir; I’ll take care.”
“Yes, you’d better!” said the midshipman, who was now all eagerness. “I’ll spear one, Frank, and then you shall take the next turn.”
“No, no; get a couple first, old chap,” replied Murray, “or say three. We don’t want to change too often.”
“Oh, very well, just as you like. Ha!”
For a chance had offered itself; one of the bonitos had risen towards the surface and turned sharply preparatory to swimming back to pass round the stem of the Seafowl, and Roberts plunged down his spear; but he had not been quick enough.
