Hunting the Skipper: The Cruise of the «Seafowl» Sloop

“That’s what I was a-thinking, sir, for if we stop here much longer we shall be reg’larly sucked down into the mud. ’Sides which, if my poor mate hears us he won’t come here. He’d on’y hail.”

“And if the enemy hear us they are quite at home here, and they’ll come down upon us and put a stop to our getting across to the boat. What do you mean by that? – What are you chuckling about?”

“You, sir,” said the man. “I was thinking what an orficer you will make some day.”

“Do you mean that for banter, my man?” said Murray angrily.

“Banter, sir? What, chaff? Not me, sir. I meant it. I felt a bit proud of you, sir, for using your head like that.”

“Well, this is no time for paying compliments, Tom. You take the lead.”

“I’ll do what you orders, sir, of course, you being my orficer, but you might tell me which way I oughter lead.”

“I can’t, Tom, my lad. We want to get down to the boat, and hope to pick up Titely on the way. I’ve tried till I grew more and more puzzled than ever; so now you try. You must chance it, my lad.”

“Mean it, sir?”

“Mean it? Of course!” cried Murray; and the man shut his eyes close, knit his brow, and then began to mutter in a low tone, much to the midshipman’s surprise.

“What are you doing, Tom?” he cried at last.

“What you telled me, sir – charnshing of it.”

“Chancing it?”

“Yes, sir; that’s right,” said the man. “Same as we used to when we was little uns playing at Blind Man’s Buff. ‘How many horses has your father got?’ Then the one as had the hankychy tied over his eyes used to answer, ‘Black, white and grey.’ Then the one who arksed about the horses used to say, ‘Turn round three times and ketch who you may.’”

And as soon as the man had repeated these words with his eyes still closely shut he turned round three times and then opened them and stared straight before him.

“This here’s the way, sir; right ahead.”

“What nonsense, Tom!” said the middy sadly. “You’re old enough to know better.”

“Maybe, sir, but you said I was to charnsh it, and that’s what I’m a-doing of; and if I don’t find the way down to the boat it won’t do us no harm as I can see; so come along.”

The man stepped off, keeping as nearly as he could to the line he had marked down, and without turning his head he called back to his young officer —

“Don’t you mind me giving o’ you orders, sir, but you telled me to lead on, and I should like to say, sir, as you’d find it better if instead of walking hard and stiff, sir, like the jollies march up and down the deck, you’d try my way, sir, trot fashion, upon your toes, with a heavy swing and give and take. You’d find that you wouldn’t sink in quite so much, seeing as one foot’s found its way out before t’other’s got time to sink in.”

“I’ll try, Tom,” said the middy quietly; and after following the man for a few dozen yards he whispered, “Yes, I think that’s better, Tom; but I have no faith in your Blind Man’s Buff plan.”

“Give it time, sir; we arn’t half tried it yet.”

“Go on, then,” cried Murray; and the man trotted on as fast as the tangled growth would allow him, pausing from time to time to listen before going on again.

“I’m afraid we must make a change, Tom,” said Murray, at last, when the man drew up suddenly. “Are you, sir?”

“Yes; this seems hopeless.”

“That’s what it all seems, sir, but I don’t like being in too great a hurry to pitch a hidee overboard. There’s nothing like trying, sir, and just as like as not we may be getting nigher and nigher to poor old Titely.”

“I’m afraid – ”

Murray did not finish his sentence, but made a spring forward and clapped his hand hard upon his leader’s shoulder.

“What’s wrong, sir?” cried the sailor, turning sharply upon him.

“Hark! Listen!” cried Murray excitedly.

“Oh, Mr Murray, sir,” groaned the man despairingly, “you’ve been and gone and done it now!”

“Nonsense! What do you mean?”

“Pitched me off my bearings, sir. I’ve looked round, and I shall never pick ’em up again.”

“Well, what does that matter?” cried Murray. “Don’t you hear?”

“Hear, sir? Hear what?”

“Oars. I heard them rattling in the rowlocks as plain as possible.”

“Whereabouts, sir?”

“Away there through the canes yonder. Didn’t you?”

“No, sir,” said the man gloomily; “I didn’t hear no oars.”

“I did, quite plainly,” said Murray, leaning forward and straining his ears. “No, it’s stopped now.”

“Yes, sir,” said the man, shaking his head; “it’s stopped now.”

“Well, don’t talk like that, Tom. You look as if you didn’t believe me.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t go for to say as I don’t believe anything you say, sir,” said the sailor; “but all the same it do seem queer.”

“Yes, queer because they’ve stopped rowing to listen. Don’t you see?”

“No, sir,” said the man, shaking his head sadly. “I don’t see nothing, on’y as you’re a bit overdone, sir, in the head, and gets fancying things.”

“Fancy, man!” cried the middy angrily. “It was no fancy, I tell you. Now then, listen.”

Tom May shut one eye and cocked his head on one side in obedience to his young officer’s command; but all was perfectly still.

“It’s very strange,” said Murray.

“Yes, sir; very,” said the sailor, in a tone of voice which made the young officer turn upon him fiercely.

“Oh, you obstinate – ”

Murray did not say what, but ceased speaking and stood straining forward.

“Of course you thought you heered oars, sir, because you wanted to hear ’em,” said the sailor; “but it’s a pity you did, sir, because it made me lose my bearings, and I know I shall never – ”

“There, then,” cried the middy excitedly. “Now, did I fancy I heard rowing?”

“No, sir; that’s oars, sure enough,” replied the sailor; “and it seems to come from right for’ard there, and not far away.”

“Hail the boat, then,” cried Murray excitedly.

“I dunno as I would, sir,” whispered the man, “because it mightn’t be our boat.”

“What! Oh, we must chance that. Hail away.”

Tom May, who looked exceedingly unwilling, clapped his hand to his cheek and yelled out, “Seafowls ahoy!” just as the regular beat of oars had ceased once more.

But there was no further doubt, for in a dull smothered tone, as if the reply came through so much dense forest, there was the answering hail —

“Ahoy there! Where away?”

“Ahoy!” shouted Tom May. “That’s the right sort, sir. Come along;” and stepping out, the sailor beat the dense growth to right and left, with his feet sinking deeper in the soft soil, till the cane brake began to open out and the forest grew lighter, the splashing of oars sounding nearer and nearer till there was a shout of welcome and the sloop’s cutter came into sight, gliding towards them till the light vessel’s nose was run into the river bank.

“At last!” cried Murray, as he scrambled over the bows, to sink exhausted into Titely’s arms. “Why, how did you get here, my lad?” said the young officer.

“I d’know, sir. Lost my way, and couldn’t find it nohow.”

“But you managed to find the boat.”

“Nay, sir; not me, sir! I didn’t find her. I did find the side o’ the river, but couldn’t get no furder. I was hanging on to a branch and trying to keep up because I was sinking into the boggy shore, when my two mates here come pulling up stream and picked me up. It was them found me, sir, not me found them.”

“Well, never mind that now,” cried Murray angrily. “What about you two? Your orders were to stay by the boat where we landed.”

“Yes, sir,” said the first boat-keeper, “but they wouldn’t let us, sir.”

“They!” cried Murray. “Whom do you mean by they?”

“Oh, I dunno, sir, who they was, only that it was a big party o’ rough uns with guns and rifles as come up all to wunst as we sat hanging on by the grapnel and line, out in the middle o’ the river, and one on ’em hails us and tells us to pull ashore.”

“Well,” said Murray, “and did you?”

“You go on, messmate,” said the man. “You can spin the yarn better nor I can.”

“Yes, go on,” cried Murray; and the second boat-keeper took up the narrative.

“Well, sir, we just didn’t.”

“Just did not what?” asked Murray.

“Pull ashore, sir. They warn’t our people, and him as hailed us warn’t our officer. ’Sides, we didn’t like the looks of ’em.”

“Well done, my lads,” said the middy; “that was right. But what did you do then?”

“I hystes up the grapnel, sir, and Harry Lang there gets an oar over the side.”

“Well?”

“Well, sir, then a Yankee sort of a chap as seemed to be the head on ’em leans hisself up again’ a bush and rests his gun upon a bough of one of the trees on the bank, and he says to me, he says, as he looks along the barrel, ‘Now, you sir,’ he says, ‘just you run that boat’s nose into this here bank, and tidy quick too, ’fore I draws this here trigger.’

“‘All right, sir,’ I says, and I shoves another oar over the side; and as soon as he sees me do that, quite easy like, he lowers down his gun – rifle, I think it was – and turns his head to say something to the chaps who was with him.

“‘Easy, messmate,’ I says then; ‘get her head straight first,’ making believe as Harry warn’t doing right. The ’Merican chap was just turning round then, but I sees my chance, and I whispers to Harry, ‘Up stream, lad, for all you’re worth.’ ‘Right you are,’ he says, and my word! sir, we did take hold of the water and put our backs into it, ’gainst stream as it was; and as I pulled I was all the time wishing as hard as I could that you’d got hold of the rudder lines so as to steer, sir, and leave us nothing to do but pull while you kept the boat’s head right in the middle of the river. ‘Here, hi, there! What are you doing? Pull ashore, or – ’ He steps to the same tree again and rests his gun on the bough and takes aim, while I thinks to myself what a pity it was that we hadn’t turned the boat’s head down stream.”

“You said arterwards, messmate, as that would ha’ been like leaving the first luff and the lads in the lurch,” said the other boat-keeper.

“So I did, messmate; and so it would,” said the narrator.

“But he didn’t fire at you?” cried Murray eagerly.

“Didn’t fire at us, sir?” said the man. “But he just did, while we pulled with all our might.”

“And missed you?”

“He missed me, sir, but he hit the boat. Sent his bullet slap through the bow planks just between wind and water, and the brown juice come trickling in quite fast, but we couldn’t stop to plug it.”

“Hah!” ejaculated Murray, who was breathing hard with excitement. “Oh, do go on a little faster!”

“That we did, sir – pulled faster, for some of the enemy come shouting after us along the side of the stream. You see, they couldn’t come on the far side, ’cause it was all trees, while luckily for us they couldn’t get along much where they were, for it was all boggy, and I see three of them sink in up to their knees and stick fast cussing and swearing. But they warn’t the only ones, for him as we took to be their boss, he let go at ’em orful, sir, and yelped at ’em to follow us up, knowing all the time that they couldn’t do nowt o’ the sort, and him not trying a bit, because he warn’t going to fill his boots.”

“But they kept on firing at you?” cried Murray.

“Fast as ever they could, sir. They kep’ on loading and firing, and Harry and me kep’ on pulling like hooray. You see, the shooting spurred us on a bit, for they kep’ on hitting the boat when they didn’t send the bullets spattering into the trees over our heads, and cut the little twigs and leaves and make them fall upon us.”

“But didn’t they get to the bank higher up?” asked Murray.

“I dunno, sir,” replied the man. “We was too busy to think about that. Precious hot it was too, pulling under boughs as kept all the air away. I don’t want to brag, Mr Murray, sir, but we had a precious nice time on it, pulling, and hearing the beggars shouting and firing till we got well round a bend and out o’ their sight, same as they was out of our sight, when I says to Harry Lang as best thing we could do was to see to damages, and seeing as it warn’t likely that they could get at us for a bit we run the boat’s nose into the far side bank where Harry could get hold of a branch, and then he outs with his Jack knife and whittles a peg to fit into the shot-hole, for the water kep’ on coming in tidy fast.”

“Is that the hole?” said Murray eagerly.

“That’s it, sir, and there’s two more plugged up astarn, ’sides that there chip out o’ the back by the starn sheets.”

“But you neither of you got hurt?”

“No, sir; you see they warn’t very handy with the guns, and we kep’ going pretty fast.”

“But there’s a blood-stain upon your shirt, my lad.”

“Oh, that, sir? It did bleed a little bit, but it was only a scrat – nowt to speak about.”

“Indeed!” said Murray. “Well, it has left off bleeding, but the doctor must see to it when we get back to the Seafowl.”

“Oh yes, sir; that’ll be all right,” said the man, smiling; “and that’s all, I think, ’cept that we baled out the boat till we began to pull on again, for we was obliged to put some distance ’twixt us in case they should find some way up to the bank and begin practice again. Same time, sir, of course we had to think of not getting too far, so as to be handy when our fellows came back and wanted the cutter.”

“Well, but about finding Titely?” said Murray.

“Oh, there’s nothing to say about that, sir, on’y we didn’t quite get it settled whether he found us or we found him. Theer he was, hung up in one of the trees over the river, and glad he was to be took aboard – just as glad as we was to take him, sir, for you see it made another to share the ’sponsibility like of our not being where we ought to be with the boat. After that, sir, I wanted to hang about as close as we could to the enemy, ready to be handy and help our officers and men; but messmet Titely says we must go on pulling up stream in search of you and Tom May, and this must be all, sir, and my throat’s as dry as dust. Think this here water’s good to drink, sir? It looks too much like beer to be quite to my taste.”

“No, my lad; I wouldn’t venture to drink it. Better wait.”

“That’s what I says to Harry Lang, sir.”

“And very wisely too. Now, Tom,” continued Murray, turning to his companion in adversity, “you have said nothing. What do you think of the state of affairs?”

“I think it’s hard, sir – precious hard on a man.”

“But they have done splendidly, Tom.”

“Yes, sir, I s’pose so, for them,” said May sourly; “but I warn’t thinking about them. I mean it comes hard upon a man like me, shut out of a fight like that. Don’t you think we might drop down with the stream now, seeing as we’re tidily strong like?”

“Yes, I do think something of the kind,” replied Murray.

“And give ’em a right down good dressing, sir?”

“No; we have got something else to think of, Tom,” said the middy sternly. “Dressing them down is tempting, but that is not what we want to do. We must get down to the bay as quickly as we can, and without the loss of a man. The fighting must rest till the captain sends up reinforcements.”

Tom May nodded his head.

“Bit disappointing, though, sir.”

“Yes, my lad, but we can wait. Now then, we must drop down a little farther, and then drop the grapnel or hook on to one of the trees of the farther bank.”

“And not make a dash of it, sir?”

“No, my lad; not till it is quite dark.”

Tom May stared.

“According to what your messmates said, the enemy was in pretty strong force. How many of them were there?”

“’Bout twenty, sir,” said Lang.

“And all armed?”

“Yes, sir; they’d all got guns,” said the other.

“Then they will be lying in wait for us,” said Murray decisively. “I only said that we shall be trying to run by them as soon as it is dark.”

“Well, sir, but we could do it,” said May warmly.

“Yes, we could run by them if I risked everything, my lad,” said the middy, “but I can’t afford to lose a man. Besides, they will have been making arrangements to receive us. There is that lugger we saw lying in the mouth of the river; they have plenty of men, I am sure, and they may have brought her up to block our way, for they are bound to try and capture us if they can.”

“Yes, sir; bound to take us if they can,” assented the sailor.

“How long do you think it will be before it is dark?” asked Murray.

“Not half-an-hour, sir,” was the reply.

“And how far are we above the landing-place?” said the middy, speaking in a low tone now and turning to the first boat-keeper.

“Can’t say, sir, for sartain,” replied the man. “What do you say, Harry Lang?”

The man shook his head.

“You see, sir, we put our backs into it when we started to row, and pulled and pulled, thinking of nothing else but getting as far up’ards as we could. Hour’s hard rowing, I should say, in and out, and we got a long ways before we come upon Bill Titely.”

“Then we’ll begin moving as soon as it is quite dark, my lads,” said Murray. “Till then, a careful watch and silence, for there is no knowing whether the enemy may not have a way through the cane brake which will enable them to come upon us by surprise.”