Chapter Two.
Lieutenant Milsom, R.N.
The evening was fine, and the distance not far from Morley’s to the Cecil; Jack therefore did not trouble to take a cab, but, slipping on a light dust-coat over his evening dress, set out to walk down the Strand on his way to dine with his friend. As he went his thoughts were dwelling upon the incident of his afternoon encounter with the mysterious “Mr Mackintosh, of Inveraray”; and he decided that he would let Carlos and his father know that someone appeared to be taking rather a marked interest in them and their movements. A walk of some ten minutes’ duration sufficed to take him to his destination; and as he turned in at the arcade which gives access to the hotel from the Strand, whom should he see but the mysterious stranger, apparently intently studying the steamship advertisements displayed in one of the windows of the arcade, but in reality keeping a sharp eye upon the hotel entrances.
“Ah!” thought Jack; “watching, are you? All right; I’ll see if I can’t give you a bit of a scare, my friend!” And, so thinking, the young giant walked straight up to the stranger, and, gripping him firmly by the arm, exclaimed:
“Hillo, Mackintosh, waiting for Mr Montijo, eh? Is this where he is stopping? Because, if so, we may as well go in together, and see if he is at home. The sight of you reminds me that I rather want to see him myself. Come along, old chap!” And therewith Jack, still retaining his grip upon the stranger’s arm, swung him round and made as though he would drag him along to the hotel.
“Carrajo! How dare you, sir!” exclaimed the stranger, vainly striving to wrench himself free from Jack’s grasp. “Release me, sir; release me instantly, you young cub, or I will call a policeman!”
“What!” exclaimed Jack, in affected surprise; “don’t you wish to see your friend Montijo? Very well; run along, then. But take notice of what I say, Mr Mackintosh; if I find you hanging about here again I will call a policeman and give you in charge as a suspicious character. Now, be off with you, and do not let me see you again.”
And, swinging him round, Jack thrust him away with such force that it was with difficulty the man avoided falling headlong into the carriage-way. Then, calmly passing into the hotel, Singleton enquired for Señor Montijo, and was ushered to that gentleman’s private suite of rooms by an obsequious waiter.
He found both father and son waiting for him in a very pretty little drawing-room, and, Carlos having duly introduced his friend, the three stood chatting together upon the various current topics of the day until dinner was announced, when they filed into a small dining-room adjoining. Here also the conversation was of a strictly general character, so long, at least, as the waiters were about; but at length the latter withdrew, and the two young men, at Señor Montijo’s request, drew up their chairs closer to his.
Don Hermoso Montijo was a man in the very prime of life, being in his forty-third year; and, fortune having been kind to him from the first, while sickness of every description had carefully avoided him, he looked even younger than his years. He was a tall, powerful, and strikingly handsome man, of very dark complexion, with black hair, beard, and moustache, and dark eyes that sparkled with good humour and vivacity; and his every movement and gesture were characterised by the stately dignity of the true old Spanish hidalgo. He had spoken but little during dinner, his English being far from perfect; moreover, although he had paid the most elaborately courteous attention to what Jack said, his thoughts had seemed to be far away. Now, however, he turned to his guest and said, with an air of apology:
“Señor Singleton, I must pray you to me pardon if I have silent been during—the—meal—of dinner, but I have not much of English, as you have doubtless noticed. Have you the Spanish?”
Jack laughed as he replied in that language: “What I have, Señor, I owe entirely to Carlos here. He may perhaps have told you that we two used to amuse ourselves by teaching each other our respective tongues. But I am afraid I was rather a dull scholar; and if my Spanish is only half as good as Carlos’s English I shall be more than satisfied.”
“I am afraid I am unable to judge the quality of Carlos’s English,” answered Don Hermoso, “but I beg to assure you, Señor, that your Spanish is excellent; far better, indeed, than that spoken by many of my own countrymen. If it be not too tedious to you, Señor, I would beg you to do me the favour of speaking Spanish for the remainder of the evening, as I find it exceedingly difficult to make myself quite clearly understood in English.”
Jack having expressed his perfect readiness to fall in with this suggestion, Don Hermoso continued:
“Carlos has been telling me what passed between you and him to-day, Señor Singleton, and although I was naturally somewhat disinclined to give an unqualified assent to his suggestion before I had seen you, permit me to say that now, having seen, watched, and conversed with you, nothing will give me greater pleasure than to endorse his proposal, unless it be to hear that you agree to it.”
“To be perfectly candid, Don Hermoso, I feel very strongly inclined to do so,” answered Jack. “But before I can possibly give my assent to Carlos’s proposal you must permit me to clearly indicate the risks to you involved in it. You know absolutely nothing of me, Señor, beyond what you have learned from your son; and it is in the highest degree essential that you should clearly understand that what Carlos suggested to me this afternoon involves you in the risk of losing your yacht, for the carrying into effect of that proposal would make the vessel positively my own, to do as I pleased with; and if I should choose to retain possession of her, neither you nor anybody else could prevent me.”
“I very clearly understand all that, my dear young friend,” answered Don Hermoso, “and I am perfectly willing to take the risks, for several reasons. In the first place, if you were the kind of individual to do what you have just suggested, I do not for an instant believe that you would have warned me that the proposal involved me in the risk of losing my yacht. In the next place, although, as you say, I know little or nothing about you, my son Carlos knows you pretty intimately, and I can rely upon his judgment of you. And, finally, I do not believe that any Englishman in your position would or could be guilty of such infamous conduct as you have suggested. The fact is that we shall certainly be obliged to trust somebody—for if it were once known that the yacht belonged to me she would be so strictly watched that we could do little or nothing with her; and I would naturally trust you, rather than a stranger.”
“Of course,” answered Jack, “that is only natural, and I can quite understand it. Nevertheless I will not give you an answer at present; you must have sufficient time to think the matter over at leisure, and perhaps while doing so you may hit upon some alternative scheme that will suit you better. Meanwhile, let me tell you of a little adventure that I had this afternoon, just after I had parted from you, Carlos—and its continuation this evening. It will perhaps interest you, for I am greatly mistaken if it does not concern you both, even more than it does me.”
And therewith Jack proceeded to give a humorous relation of his two encounters with the foreign-looking gentleman claiming to be one of the Mackintoshes of Inveraray. When at length he finished, father and son looked at each other with glances of alarm, and simultaneously exclaimed:
“Now, who can that possibly be?”
“Your description of the man does not in the least degree suggest any particular individual to me,” continued Don Hermoso; “but that, of course, is not surprising, for a man must have a singularly striking personality to allow of his being identified from verbal description only. But let him be who he may, I am quite disposed to agree with you that his object in accosting you this afternoon was to enable him to familiarise himself with your personal appearance; while the fact that you caught him watching the hotel this evening would seem to indicate that our presence in London is known, and that our visit is regarded with a certain amount of suspicion. This only strengthens my conviction that your aid, my dear Señor Singleton, will be of the greatest value to us, if we can succeed in persuading you to give it.”
Don Hermoso’s manner was such as to leave no room for doubt in the mind of Singleton as to the sincerity of the Cuban, while the latter and his son were easily able to see that their proposal strongly appealed to the adventurous spirit of the young Englishman: it is therefore not surprising that ere they parted that evening Singleton had definitely agreed to become, for the time being, the apparent owner of the new steam-yacht, and to take part in the gun-running adventure; also agreeing to take along with him the working model of his submarine, which all three were of opinion might be found exceedingly useful, while the service upon which they were about to engage would afford Jack an opportunity to put the craft to the test of actual work.
These important points having been arranged, it was further agreed that, since the two Montijos were evidently under Spanish surveillance, they should advertise their connection with the yacht as little as possible, leaving the matters of the final trials of the vessel, the payment of the last instalment of her cost, and her transfer to Jack’s ownership entirely in the hands of the agent who had thus far managed the business for them; taking a holiday on the Continent, meanwhile, and joining the vessel only at the last moment prior to her departure for Cuba. And it was further arranged that the ordering and shipment of the arms, ammunition, and supplies destined for the use of the insurgents should also be left absolutely in the hands of the agent and Jack conjointly; by which means the Montijos would effectually avoid embroilment with the Spanish authorities, while it was hoped that, by occupying the attention of those authorities themselves, that attention would be completely diverted from Jack and the yacht. The settlement of these details and of others incidental to them kept the three conspirators busy until nearly midnight, when Jack rose to go, having already arranged to leave the hotel by the side entrance in order to baffle the eminently respectable “Mr Mackintosh”, should that individual happen to be still on the watch. As it happened, he was; for upon leaving the hotel Jack sauntered along the Embankment as far as Waterloo Bridge, then made his way up into Lancaster Place, and there took a cab, in which he drove up the Strand, where he saw his man, evidently on guard, strolling slowly to and fro in front of the main entrance to the Cecil.
Now Jack, although a yacht owner, was not a member of any yacht club, his cutter Lalage being such an out-of-date craft, and so seldom in use, that he had not thus far thought it worth while to very intimately identify himself with what is the Englishman’s pastime par excellence. But as he thought over the events of the evening while smoking a final pipe before turning in that night, it occurred to him that if he was to successfully pose as the owner of a fine new steam-yacht, it was imperative that he should become a member of some smart club; and as he happened to have two or three intimate friends who belonged to the Royal Thames, he decided upon attempting to procure election into that somewhat exclusive club. Accordingly, the next morning he addressed letters to those friends, requesting them to undertake the matter of his election, with the result, it may here be mentioned, that about three weeks later he received a communication from the secretary of the club, intimating his enrolment, and requesting the payment of his entrance fee and first subscription. This matter having been attended to, Jack next addressed a letter to Señor Montijo’s agent, making an appointment with him for the afternoon; and then went out to interview his tailor and outfitter, for the purpose of procuring a suitable outfit.
Then it occurred to him that for the especial work which the new yacht was required to do she would need a first-rate crew, every man of whom must be absolutely to be depended upon under all circumstances. The eight or ten hands comprising the crew of the Lalage were all well-known to him, having indeed belonged to the cutter for years, while she was still the property of Jack’s father, and they would doubtless serve as the nucleus of the new ship’s crew: but of course they would go but a little way towards the manning of a steam-yacht of three hundred and forty tons measurement; while Perkins, satisfactory as he had proved himself in his capacity of skipper of the cutter, would never do as commander of the new ship—though he might perhaps make a very good chief officer. Having arrived at this point in his meditations, Jack suddenly bethought himself of Lieutenant Philip Milsom, R.N. (retired), who would make a perfectly ideal skipper for the new craft, and would probably be glad enough to get to sea again for a few months, and supplement his scanty income by drawing the handsome pay which the captain of a first-class modern steam-yacht can command. Whereupon the young man turned into the next telegraph office that he came to, and dispatched a wire to Milsom, briefly informing him that he had heard of a berth which he thought would suit him, and requesting him to call at Morley’s Hotel on the following day. And at lunch-time Jack received a letter from Carlos Montijo, announcing the departure of his father and himself for Paris, en route for Switzerland, and containing an itinerary and list of dates for Singleton’s guidance in the event of his finding it necessary to communicate with them.
Jack had finished his luncheon, and was taking a cup of coffee with his cigarette in the smoke-room, when a waiter entered, bearing a card the owner of which was enquiring for Mr Singleton. The card bore the name of “James M. Nisbett”, and Jack knew that Señor Montijo’s agent had arrived. He accordingly directed the waiter to show Mr Nisbett up into his private sitting-room.
Mr Nisbett was one of those agents whose business is generally brought to them by foreign and colonial clients; and his transactions consisted of obtaining for and forwarding to those clients anything and everything that they might chance to require, whether it happened to be a pocket knife, a bridal trousseau, or several hundred miles of railway; a needle, or an anchor. And, being a keen man of business, it was only necessary to mention to him the kind of article required, and he was at once prepared to say where that article might be best obtained. Also, being a tremendously busy man, he was wont to get straight to business, without any circumlocution; and he did so in the present instance by producing a letter which he had that morning received from Don Hermoso Montijo, detailing the arrangement arrived at on the previous night between himself and Jack, and authorising Nisbett to act upon Jack’s instructions precisely as though these instructions emanated directly from Don Hermoso himself. This letter very effectually cleared the ground, and Jack at once began to detail to Nisbett full particulars of all the arms, ammunition, stores, and articles generally which it was intended to put on board the yacht for conveyance to Cuba; after which arrangements were made for the final trials of the yacht prior to her acceptance by Nisbett on behalf of his clients, and her subsequent transference to Jack’s ownership. It was perfectly clear to Jack that this last arrangement was distinctly unpalatable to Nisbett, who thought he saw in it some deep-laid scheme for the theft of the yacht from her actual owners; but when Jack explained the reasons which had actuated the Montijos in making the proposal, and further cheerfully offered to consent to any alternative scheme which would achieve the same result, the man at once gave in, frankly admitting that the arrangement already come to was the best that could be suggested. He remained with Jack two full hours, carefully discussing with him every point affecting the success of the expedition; and when at length he retired he was fully primed with all the information necessary to enable him to satisfactorily perform his share of the task.
The following morning brought Jack a visitor of a very different but equally thorough type, in the person of Lieutenant Philip Milsom, R.N., who sent in his card while the young man was still dawdling over a rather late breakfast.
“Bring the gentleman in here,” ordered Jack; and a minute later the waiter re-appeared, conducting a dapper-looking, clean-shaven man of medium height, attired in a suit of blue serge, the double-breasted jacket of which he wore buttoned tight to his body. This individual spotted Jack instantly, and, pushing the waiter on one side, bustled up with outstretched hand to the table at which the young man was sitting, exclaiming in a brisk, cheery voice:
“Hillo, Jack, my hearty, what cheer? Gad! what a big lump of a chap you have become since I saw you last—how long ago?—ay, it must be more than two years. But, nevertheless, I should have known you anywhere, from your striking likeness to your poor father. Well, and how are you, my lad, eh? Not very much the matter with you, I should say—and yet I don’t know; you look a trifle chalky about the gills, and your clothes seem to hang rather more loosely than they should. What have you been doing with yourself, eh?”
“Oh, nothing very dreadful!” laughed Jack, “only overworking myself a trifle, so I am told. But sit down, there’s a good fellow, and—have you breakfasted, by the way?”
“Breakfasted very nearly three hours ago, my boy,” was the answer. “But if you want me to join you—I see you are still busy at it—don’t be bashful, but say so straight out, and I’ll not refuse, for the journey up has given me a fresh appetite.”
“That’s right,” said Jack. “Now, which will you have, coffee or tea? And you can take your choice of ham and eggs, steak, chop, and fish.”
“Thanks!” said Milsom, “I’ll take coffee—and a steak, rather underdone. And while the steak is getting ready I’ll amuse myself with one of those rolls and a pat of butter, if you don’t mind. I got your telegram, by the way, or of course I shouldn’t be here. What is the job, my boy, eh? I suppose it is something that a gentleman may undertake, or you wouldn’t have thought of me, eh?”
“Of course,” said Jack; “that is to say, I think so. But you must judge for yourself whether the post is such as you would care to accept. The fact is that, as I told you just now, I have been overworking myself; and a specialist whom I have come down here to consult tells me that I must take a long holiday in the open air. I have therefore decided to go on a yachting cruise—to the West Indies, probably—and I want you to take command of the ship for me. She is a brand-new, three-hundred-and-forty-ton steam-yacht, of eight hundred indicated horse-power, and her guaranteed sea speed is twenty-two knots.”
Milsom pursed up his lips and gave vent to a prolonged whistle as Jack enunciated these particulars; then his features relaxed into a broad smile as he extended his right hand across the table to Jack, exclaiming:
“I’m your man! As I came along in the train this morning I was cogitating what was the smallest amount of pay that I would take for this job—whatever it might be; but, by the piper, Jack, the mere pleasure of commanding such a craft would be payment enough for me, and I’m quite willing to take it on free, gratis, and for nothing, if you say so.”
“The pay,” said Jack, “will be at the rate of thirty pounds sterling per calendar month, with uniform and your keep, of course, thrown in.”
“Good enough!” exclaimed Milsom enthusiastically. “You may take it that upon these terms I accept the command of the—what’s her name?”
“She is so new,” said Jack, “that she has not yet been given a name. At present she is known simply as Number 78. But”—lowering his voice—“I have not yet told you everything; you had better wait until you have heard all that I have to say before you definitely decide. Meanwhile, here comes your steak and some fresh coffee, so you had better get your breakfast; and when you have finished we will both go up to my private room.”
“Right ho!” acquiesced Milsom, who forthwith turned his attention to his second breakfast, saying very little more until he intimated that he had finished, and was now quite ready to resume the discussion of the matter that had brought him up to town. Accordingly, Jack conducted his friend up to his private sitting-room, waved him into a chair, and took one himself.
“Ah!” exclaimed Milsom, in a tone that conveyed his complete satisfaction with things in general; “this is all right. I suppose, by the way, a chap may smoke here, mayn’t he?”
“Of course,” said Jack; “smoke away as hard as you please, old man. Have a cigar?”
“No, thanks,” answered the Navy man; “good, honest, stick tobacco, smoked out of a well-seasoned brier, is good enough for me—unless one can get hold of a real, genuine Havana, you know; but they are scarcely to be had in these days.”
“All the same, I think we may perhaps manage to get hold of one or two where we are going,” said Jack; “that is to say, if you are still willing to take on the job after you have heard what I am bound to tell you.”
“Ah!” exclaimed Milsom; “something in the background, eh? Well, it can’t be very terrible, I fancy, Jack, or you would not be mixed up in it. However, heave ahead, my lad, and let us hear the worst, without further parley.”
“Well,” said Jack, “the fact is that the yachting trip is all a ‘blind’, and is in reality neither more nor less than a gun-running expedition in aid of the Cuban revolutionaries. And the yacht is really not mine, but belongs to a certain very wealthy Cuban gentleman who, being, like most Cubans, utterly sick of the Spanish misgovernment of the island, has thrown in his lot with the patriots, and has had the craft specially built for their service. But, recognising that to declare his ownership of her would at once arouse the suspicion of the Spaniards, and attract a tremendous amount of unwelcome attention to her, he has persuaded me to assume the apparent ownership of the vessel, and to undertake a trip to the West Indies in her, ostensibly for my health, but actually to run into the island a consignment of arms and ammunition, and otherwise to assist the patriots in every possible way.”
“I see,” observed Milsom thoughtfully. “That means, of course, that I should really be in the service of the Cuban gentleman, instead of in yours. That makes a very important difference, Jack, for, you see, I shall have to look to him, instead of to you, for my pay; and smuggling contraband of war is a very different matter from navigating a gentleman’s private yacht, and is work for which I shall expect to be well paid.”
“Then am I to understand that you regard thirty pounds per month as insufficient?” demanded Jack.
“Not at all, my dear boy,” answered Milsom quickly, “do not misunderstand me; I am quite content with the pay, but as the service is one that I can see with half an eye will involve a good deal of risk, I want to be quite certain of getting it. Now, is your friend to be absolutely depended upon in that respect? You see, if this insurrection should fail—as it probably will—your friend may be killed, or imprisoned, and all his property confiscated; and then I may whistle for my money.”
“I think not,” said Jack. “For my friend has left the management of everything in my hands, and I will see that you are all right. But I am very glad that you have raised the point; for it has enabled me to see that the proper thing will be to deposit a sufficient sum in an English bank to cover the pay of all hands for a period of—well, say twelve months. What do you say to that?”
“I say,” answered Milsom, “that it will be quite the proper thing to do, and will smooth away a very serious difficulty. But, Jack, my boy, has it occurred to you that you will be running a good many quite unnecessary risks by mixing yourself up in this affair? For you must remember that we may be compelled to fight, before all is done; while, if we are captured, it may mean years of imprisonment in a Spanish penal settlement, which will be no joke, I can assure you, my lad!”
“Ah!” answered Jack. “To be quite frank, I had not thought of the last contingency you mention. But ‘in for a penny, in for a pound’; I’ll take the risk, and trust to my usual good luck to keep me out of a Spanish prison. The fact is, Phil, that I am fairly aching for a bit of adventure, and I simply must have it.”
“Very well,” said Milsom grimly; “I think you have hit upon a most excellent scheme for getting it! My advice to you, Jack, is to leave the whole thing severely alone; but, whether you do or not, I am in it, so please give me your orders. And, mind you, Jack, I take them from you, and from nobody else.”
“Very well,” said Jack. “It may be necessary for you to modify that resolution later on, but let that pass; at present, at all events, you will receive all instructions from me, and regard me as the owner of the vessel. Now the first thing to be done is to secure a good crew; and, as I have told you precisely the kind of work that will have to be done, I shall look to you to provide the right sort of officers and men. I suppose you will have to give them a hint that they will be required to do something more than mere everyday yachting work—and you must arrange their pay accordingly; but, while doing this, you must be careful not to let out the true secret, or it will not remain such for very long. And you need not trouble to provide the engine-room staff; I think I can manage that part of the business myself.”
“I see,” answered Milsom. “You wish me to engage merely the officers, seamen, and stewards? Very well. How many guns will she carry?”
“Guns?” echoed Jack. “By Jove, I had not thought of that! Will she need any guns?”
“She certainly will, if she is to be as useful as she ought to be,” answered Milsom.
“Um!” said Jack; “that complicates matters a bit, doesn’t it? I am afraid that I must refer that point to Señor Montijo, the actual owner. What sort of armament would you recommend for such a craft, Phil?”
“Oh! not a very heavy one,” answered Milsom; “probably four 12-pounders, of the latest pattern, and a couple of Maxims would be sufficient.”
Jack made a note of these particulars for reference to Señor Montijo, and then said:
“Now, is there anything else that you can think of, Phil?”
“Nothing except an outfit of small arms—rifles, revolvers, and cutlasses, you know, for the crew,” answered Milsom. “If anything else should occur to me I will write and mention it.”
“Very well; pray do so,” said Jack. “Now, I think that is all for the present. Pick a first-class, thoroughly reliable crew, Phil. I give you a week in which to look for them, by which time I expect the boat will be ready to receive them. Then you can bring them all north with you, and we will ship them in the proper orthodox style. Now, good-bye; and good luck to you in your search!”