Chapter Nine.
Coaling the Catcher.
Lieutenant Webster joined the Portuguese officer in the chart-room, where, with his gallant attempts to speak French, and his readiness to join in the laughter at his own most amusing blunders, he quite charmed Lieutenant Gobo, who grew confidential, and imparted an interesting item of news.
“You will remain with us, amigo mio, and we will crack many a bottle of old Madeira in a posado kept by an old man with two lovely daughters.”
“Thanks, señor, with pleasure, if we do not depart to-morrow.”
“To-morrow! What say you? We have a proverb that says that the wages of to-morrow mock the promise of yesterday. To-morrow you will all be our very good guests.”
“For my part, nothing would please me better; but our Captain has said that to-morrow he will sail, and he is a very devil—diavolo—eh?”
“You speak idly, my friend. I assure you to-morrow this ship of yours will be seized.”
“How so, Lieutenant? We have no quarrel with Portugal; and, moreover, there is no craft here that could overhaul us.”
“Not here at present, señor, but it is coming.”
“Your glass is empty, Lieutenant. Is this a British ship you speak of?—for I know none other that could capture us.”
“There are other ships than British afloat,” said the officer, twirling his moustache. “The ship I speak of flies the Brazilian flag: the Esperanza sloop of war, which, providentially, left Lisbon two days since, and may be here at any hour. She was advised of the escape of your boat from the Thames, and has warned us to be on the watch. Juarez is her commander, and I tell you he also is a devil. Ha! ha!”
“I perceive,” said Webster, with a laugh, “you have been too smart for us. We English are sometimes very dull.”
“Truly, mon ami, in quickness of wit, as in matters of love, we of the South are superior to you heavy islanders. But you are good comrades, nevertheless. Your health, señor.”
“I see the bottle’s empty. Pardon me, Lieutenant, while I overhaul the locker.” Webster, with an innocent look on his bronzed face, went below and sent a message to the Captain.
“Sir,” he said, as the Captain approached, “there is a Brazilian sloop of war in pursuit of us. She may be here to-night, or in the morning.”
“How did you learn this?” asked Captain Pardoe, with a dark look.
“From that yellow-skinned effigy on deck. The Swift is to be taken to-morrow and the crew landed. It is all settled.”
“Is it?” said the Captain, with a peculiar smile. “We shall see to that Hume will presently leave for the shore with two men. As soon as his boat is clear have these soldiers seized and bound. Take your measures quietly, Mr Webster, and be very careful that they do not cry out.”
“What’s on foot, Captain?”
“We mean to have that coal, my boy, sloop or no sloop. Thunder, do they suppose I’ll surrender to a sloop after defying a British cruiser! You have your orders.” The Captain went down to the engine-room; and Webster, after securing another bottle, gave a few sharp words of instruction to the Quartermaster, who received them with a grin.
Soon after a boat from the shore came alongside with a gendarme, who, after a few words with Lieutenant Gobo, received a note from that officer and returned.
“I have assured my Captain,” said the Lieutenant to Webster, “that we are friendly here, and that while one of your men is ashore he need not take extra precautions.”
“What precautions are, then, necessary?”
“Oh, a boat or two of soldadoes!”
“Mr Hume!” cried the Captain, from his position on the bridge, “you will take the boat for Mr Dixon, and see what arrangements you can make for coaling to-morrow.”
The Lieutenant jogged Webster in the ribs.
“Is he not droll—this Captain of yours?”
“Very droll,” remarked Webster, with a meaning look at the Quartermaster, who stood near.
Hume swung into the boat with two men, and gave the order to push off.
Webster leaned over the side, ran his eyes over the men on deck who were drinking with the three soldiers, then spoke a word to the Quartermaster, who immediately joined the group, placing himself as he did so between the soldiers and their rifles, which rested against the side.
Webster strolled to the chart house, took another look at the group on guard, then flung himself on the Lieutenant, pinning that astonished individual by the throat. There was a scuffle forward, a smothered cry or so, and in a minute the four Portuguese were bound and gagged.
“Lower the long boat, Mr Webster,” said the Captain in low tones.
This was done by the now thoroughly alert and expectant crew in silence.
“Man the boat, take a tow-line, and make for the coal barges.”
Four men dropped into the boat, a tow-line was made fast.
“Weigh anchor and deaden the noise with tow. Let the flukes hang for the present.”
Quietly and slowly the anchor came in. Webster entered the boat, the tow-line tautened, and the Swift gradually moved off in the direction of the barges.
Meanwhile Hume had met a boat half-way from the shore, with the chief engineer on board, and taking him in, waited till the shore boat had rowed out of hearing, then shaped for the barges.
“You are shaping a wrong course for the Swift, Mr Hume.”
“We are making for two barges laden with coal, Mr Dixon.”
“Oh, oh, what’s in the wind?”
“These beggars won’t give us coal, so we mean to take it. We will approach the barges quietly, board them, and secure the people on board. Will you assist us, Mr Dixon?”
“Certainly, my boy; and what’s the Captain doing meanwhile?”
“He’ll be alongside very soon after we have done our business. No doubt he’s on the move now, with a tow-line out. Gently, men, I think I see the loom of something dark.”
They stole softly up to the unwieldy boats, going alongside one which had an awning forward, made the boat fast, then clambered on deck. One of the sailors walked along the broadside, and reconnoitred. There were two men only, sleeping on a rough bed of sacks, their forms dimly outlined by the light of a lantern. He then crossed to the other boat, which was unoccupied. He made his report, and next minute the sleepers were aroused to find four men standing over them. They permitted themselves to be bound without a murmur, on an assurance from Hume that they would not be harmed.
A few minutes later the Swift crept up, took in her boat, and got up steam.
“Make fast the tow-line to the barges, Mr Hume,” came an order from the Captain.
“It is done, sir.”
“Cut the moorings.”
The rope was cut, and the Swift steamed out, towing the barges, until she had rounded the south-western point below Funchal, when she dropped anchor, and all hands, including the two Portuguese sailors, were hard at it, transferring her coal to the torpedo-catcher. The coal was in sacks, the steam tackle was set in motion, and with a loud noise that sooner or later would reach the ears of the people ashore, the precious cargo was swung on board and shot down the shoots, covering every part of the deck and rigging with grit. The long, low steamer lay sandwiched between the barges, and while the steam tackle worked aft, forward the sacks were handled by the men, everyone, except Miss Anstrade and Mr Commins, lending a willing hand.
They had been hard at work for an hour, when a confused babble of shouting was heard from the port, and shortly after they saw a shaft of light shoot into the sky and glance across the harbour. It was the flash-light from the little fort, and no doubt revealed the absence of steamer and coal barges.
Presently they heard the beat of engines—a steamer’s light appeared round the point.
“Show a light, Mr Webster. We don’t want to be run down.”
A red light was hung out over the stem.
“Keep on with your work,” shouted the Captain, as the men paused to watch the progress of the steamer.
“Carambo! Señor Capitaine, what in the devil’s name is the meaning of this?” shouted a deep voice from the steamer, in furious accents.
“Quien es?”
“Demonios! Colonel Alvaro, commander of the fort. What mean you by moving off like a thief in the dark? It is an offence against Portugal and the laws.”
Captain Pardoe laughed. “I am merely taking coal for which I am willing to pay. Will you receive the money?”
“Yes,” said a strange voice; “I represent the coal company.”
There was an altercation on board the tug, for such it proved to be.
“I protest, Colonel Alvaro. When I have received payment you may do what you like. Lower a boat.”
Colonel Alvaro gave way, the boat was lowered, and a young Englishman stepped on board, who was immediately taken below, where he made a good bargain.
“Now, Captain,” he said, after securing a roll of notes, “you have acted in a high-handed manner, and it is no business of mine to help you, but the sooner you move the better. The warship Esperanza has been signalled, and will be here in half an hour.”
“Thank you,” said the Captain, with a grim smile; “we can look after ourselves. Mr Webster, release the soldiers, and let them return with these gentlemen.”
Webster did so, and could not forbear chaffing Lieutenant Gobo. “We are no match for you, Lieutenant, in resource, but you see we are having our own way.”
“Matre de Dios!” cried the Lieutenant, grinding his teeth, “you will pay for this, you base picaro!” and he shot a vengeful glance at Webster and Hume, who stood close by, their faces black with coal-dust.
Little did they dream that Gobo would make good his threat.
The tug waited for its boat, then steamed away towards the harbour at great speed, Colonel Alvaro and Lieutenant Gobo shouting a string of threats as to what they would do on their return.
Mr Dixon reported that the bunkers were filled.
“Stack a row of sacks along the sides, and have them lashed. Get a full head of steam up. Mr Webster, cast this boat off from the port side.”
Soon the steam from the escape pipe set up its shrill clamour.
The Captain mounted to the bridge, and with his night glass fixed to his eye searched the mouth of the harbour.
“See that row of lights, Captain?” said Miss Laura.
“A steamer just entering the harbour.”
“And there is another light moving.”
“That is the tug which just left us. Is there much more coal left, Mr Webster?”
“About fifty sacks, sir, I should say.”
“Whip them in, then. All firemen get below.” He approached the tube. “Stand by, Mr Dixon!”
The steamer which had just entered the harbour put out her lights, but there was a glow from her funnels which revealed her movements, as it grew rapidly brighter.
“All aboard!” shouted the Captain. “Cast off the barge!” The men clambered from the barge, and the unwieldy craft was shoved away.
“Full speed ahead!”
The water was lashed by the screws, the Swift vibrated like a living thing, and shot away, leaving the barges rocking on the swell she had kicked up.
“Surely, Captain,” said Miss Anstrade, “that steamer is following us!”
“She is, Miss Laura, sure enough. It is the Brazilian ship Esperanza, Captain Don Juarez.”
“Don Juarez,” said the girl, in a startled whisper. “O, Santissima Maria,” she added, with a passionate cry, “that treacherous dog, the murderer of my brother! Captain Pardoe, you must not fly. Mr Webster, listen to me.”
“Laura, my dear girl,” said Mr Commins, laying his hand on her arm.
She shook him off with an angry gesture, and turned her flashing eyes on the Captain, while her bosom heaved.
Some of the men had heard her cry, and stood near the bridge.
“Men,” she said, in quick, excited tones, “hear me! That is a Brazilian warship behind. It is commanded by a man who has done me a most fearful wrong. You are Englishmen, and I ask you—”
“Enough, madam,” whispered Pardoe sternly. Then, raising his voice, “Clear the guns for action.”
The Quartermaster’s shrill whistle rang out in immediate response, and in reply a flame of fire leapt out from the darkness astern, followed by the screech of a shell.