Chapter Eleven.
The Road to Ajaccio.
My descent to the midshipmen’s berth for the purpose of making my few preparations was the signal for a general fusillade of questions from my inquisitive messmates as to the why and wherefore of my summons to the cabin, and great was the disgust which each felt that he had been passed over in favour of so unimportant a personage as myself. It was quite true that no one of them could claim to possess more than the merest rudimentary knowledge of French, yet each was prepared with what he considered an amply sufficient reason why he should have been specially selected for the service.
Mr Midshipman Raleigh maintained that the duty was his by right, in virtue of his seniority; and as to his ignorance of French, that was a mere trifle which he was quite satisfied would never have proved the slightest impediment to his success.
Little Percy Neville—a blue-eyed, golden-haired lad whom not even a blind man could well have mistaken for anything else than pure Anglo-Saxon—flattered himself that “the cut of his jib” was so eminently French as to deceive even the most practised eye; while as to language, he could say bonjour or bon soir, and bow with the air of a born Parisian. These accomplishments were, he considered, amply sufficient to ensure his perfect safety while travelling, and to enable him triumphantly to accomplish his mission—if need were—in the full light of day, and under the very eyes of unsuspecting thousands.
Mr Robert Summers was of opinion that that was all very well, and might do; but if he had been entrusted with the duty, his first step would have been to proceed straight to Ajaccio, and there disburse some of the French coin in the acquisition of an organ and monkey, together with a full suit of picturesque Italian rags, all of which he knew would be easily procurable; and provided with these, he would have felt prepared to face with the most unruffled nonchalance the severest scrutiny of a whole regiment of French detectives—the acuteness of the mere soldiery he considered would have proved simply beneath his contempt.
Each of the other “young gentlemen” was equally ready to suggest an infallible scheme for baffling the vigilance of the enemy; and if the conversation had no other value, it at least served to amuse me while making my preparations for the expedition.
The money was mostly paper, and my first act was to carefully secrete it among the lining of the suit of “long togs” which I had decided to bend for my cruise ashore. I then packed a small leather bag with a shirt or two, selecting such as—I say it with shame—I had been too lazy to mark, a pair of socks, a brush and comb, a piece of soap—afterwards rejected upon the urgent representation of Bob Summers that the French never used soap, much less carried it about with them—and a few other necessaries of trifling bulk, together with a small sketch-book and a box of colours; my idea being that the best way to elude inconvenient attention was by neither courting nor avoiding it, and my intention was to endeavour to pass as a young German artist student on a sketching tour, a sufficient knowledge of German and drawing for such a purpose being among my accomplishments. Lastly, I summoned up courage to ask of Mr Annesley the loan of a pair of beautiful little pocket-pistols which I had frequently noticed when I had had occasion to go to his cabin.
This completed my equipment, and by the time that I was ready and once more on deck the frigate had approached to within some six miles of the land, and was in the act of heaving-to, it being considered that we were now as close in as it was prudent to go.
When I stepped on deck, Captain Hood was on the quarter-deck, talking to Mr Annesley and Mr Rawlings, the master—who was so far convalescent as to be able once more to resume the duties of his post—and as I approached the group, I heard the skipper remark, “And so you know Ajaccio well, Mr Rawlings?”
“Ay, ay, sir,” responded the master, “almost as well as I know Portsmouth Harbour; I have been in there twice, and can put the ship wherever you want her, within a fathom or so, dark as it is.”
“Is there not a ruin of some sort close to the water’s edge, about six miles to the southward of the town?”
“There is, sir; an old chapel I believe it is. The ground rises rather steeply from the water’s edge there, and is covered with trees. The ruin stands just on the edge of an over-hanging bank, about thirty feet above high-water mark; and the beach below is—or was when I saw it last—littered with stones and blocks of masonry which have fallen from the building.”
“Would it be safe to attempt a landing there with a boat on such a night as this?” asked the skipper.
“Couldn’t find a safer spot to land on anywhere in the island,” confidently replied Rawlings. “The beach is all shingle, and pretty steep, bottom quite clear of rocks, and not a ripple there with the wind this way. Run the boat’s nose up high and dry, and jump out on to the beach without wetting your feet. Then, as to the chance of being discovered, the place is dreadful lonesome, specially at night—they do say as it’s ha’nted, though I can’t vouch for the truth of the story; but I do know this much, that the last time I was ashore there, I took a stroll out as far as the ruin towards nightfall, and they told me as I don’t know what would happen if I went there; nobody ever went a-near the place at nightfall, so they said.”
“And did anything happen?” inquired Mr Annesley.
“Lord bless you! no, sir. I enjoyed the walk amazingly; sat and smoked my pipe among the ruins, and watched the sun go down; stayed there till the moon rose, and then walked back again to the town, and never saw a soul within a mile of the spot all the while I was there.”
“Does not the high road to Ajaccio pass close by the ruin?” inquired the skipper.
“Within a cable’s length of it,” replied Rawlings. “And when once you’re in the road, turn to the left, and it’s all plain sailing for the rest of the way right into the town. There’s only one turning in the road, and that’s just after you leave the ruin; but it is only a narrow road; it turns to the right, and leads off somewhere among the hills.”
“Just so,” remarked the skipper in a tone of great satisfaction. “What Rawlings says agrees most accurately with the information supplied to us, you see,” he continued, addressing Mr Annesley; “so I think if young Chester only follows out his instructions with ordinary care, he should have no difficulty in finding the place to which he is sent.”
“None whatever, I should imagine,” returned Mr Annesley. “He is very young, I admit, to be entrusted with such important documents, but on that very account he is all the less likely to attract attention; and I have the utmost faith in his readiness of resource, which I believe is quite equal to the task of keeping him clear of all difficulty. Do you still feel quite confident of success?” he asked, turning to me.
“Perhaps I ought not to say quite so much as that, sir,” I replied, “but I feel no nervousness whatever, and I will do all I possibly can to succeed.”
“That is quite sufficient,” said the skipper. “And now it is time you were off. Let them man my gig, the crew taking their sidearms with them. And as you know the place so well, Mr Rawlings, I will ask you to take command of the expedition, and kindly put Mr Chester fairly in the main road to Ajaccio. Remember, Mr Chester—the first turning to the right.”
“Ay, ay, sir,” I replied. A few brief and final instructions were given me; the skipper once more shook hands, and wished me success, Mr Annesley following suit; and then, the gig being by that time manned and in the water, I slipped down the side and seated myself in the stern-sheets alongside old Rawlings, the bowman shoved off, and the crew, dropping their oars with a splash into the water and dashing it into liquid fire, stretched out to their work, sending the light boat dancing over the wavelets toward the distant shore, and leaving far astern a luminous wake, with six small whirlpools of fire eddying on each side of it.
We pulled steadily on for half an hour, and then, that no precaution might be omitted, the crew were ordered to muffle their oars. This done, we resumed our way, but at a much quieter pace, the land rising up before us an uniform black mass against the deep violet of the star-studded sky, without the faintest suggestion of detail of any kind whereby to direct our course. How Rawlings could possibly hit a spot so absolutely invisible as the ruin seemed quite incomprehensible to me; but there is no doubt he was specially gifted in that respect, it being apparently impossible for him to forget or confuse the slightest details of any locality which he had once visited.
Be that as it may, we paddled gently on until the boat was so completely within the shadow of the land that we were in utter darkness, it being impossible to distinguish the face of the stroke oarsman from where I sat. A few more strokes, and Rawlings uttered in a low tone the word “oars!” they were noiselessly laid in, and in another moment the boat’s bow grated upon the shingle of the beach.
“Now as soon as we have landed, shove off to about fifty or sixty fathoms from the beach, and lay on your oars, ready to pull quietly in again when you hear me whistle three times. But if I hail instead of whistling, bend your backs and send her in upon the beach with all your strength, and then jump out and shove her off again the moment I’m aboard, for in that case I shall have Johnny Crapaud after me,” said Rawlings to the coxswain, as we stepped gingerly forward to the bow of the boat.
As soon as our feet touched the shingle, we turned round, and giving the boat’s nose a vigorous shove launched her off the beach, with enough stern-way upon her to carry her the prescribed distance from the beach without the aid of the oars. As we stood for a moment watching her, we were much disconcerted to observe how distinctly she could be seen upon the surface of the starlit water by eyes which had become accustomed to the surrounding gloom.
I should have been seriously apprehensive of almost instant discovery, but for Rawlings’s steady adherence to his original statement that no one would ever approach the place after dusk upon any consideration. As it was, I felt that the sooner Rawlings was once more on board and on his way back to the ship, the easier should I be in my mind; I therefore proposed that we should push ahead for the high road without further pause.
The spot was indeed of a character calculated to impress with awe and superstitious dread the uneducated mind. The ground sloped steeply toward the shore, terminating, at its juncture with the beach, in a sort of low cliff or precipitous bank about thirty feet high, the face of which was densely overgrown with shrubs of various kinds, from the midst of which irregular strata of a coarse dirty-white marble cropped out. On the extreme verge of the cliff stood the shattered ruin already referred to, barely distinguishable from where we stood, as a gaunt, shapeless, indefinable mass; while the beach below was encumbered with stones and blocks of masonry which had fallen from it from time to time. The uneven surface of the ground for some distance on each side of the ruin, and as far back as the road, was completely overshadowed by enormous cypress-trees, all of which seemed extremely ancient, while some appeared quite dead and withered. There was, in addition to these trees, a thick undergrowth of long rank grass and stunted shrubs, among which an outrageously prickly variety of the cactus made itself conspicuously apparent to the touch; while, more than half hidden by the undergrowth, there were dotted here and there a few sepulchral stones and monuments in the very last stage of irretrievable dilapidation. Add to these sombre surroundings the melancholy sighing of the night-wind through the branches of the trees overhead, and the occasional weird cry of some nocturnal bird, and it will not be wondered at if I confess I felt a strong desire to get beyond the precincts of the eerie place with as little delay as possible.
After listening intently for a minute or two, without hearing any sound whatever indicative of the proximity of the enemy, our eyes meanwhile growing more accustomed to the intense darkness, we pushed forward as rapidly as the nature of the ground would permit, and in about ten minutes more found ourselves in an excellent road about sixty feet wide, which Rawlings informed me led direct to Ajaccio, distant about seven miles.
“Now, Mr Chester,” said he, “my duty is ended as far as you are concerned, and all I have to do is to slip back to the beach and get off to the ship as soon as possible, and we shall not be long running out to her with this pretty little breeze. I only wish your task was as easy as the remainder of mine—but there, if it was, there’d be no honour nor credit in the doing of it, whereas I make no manner of doubt that if you succeed in this business your promotion will be certain the moment you’ve sarved long enough, and anyway it’ll be a fine feather in your cap. I got an inkling of what it is, while talking to the skipper just now, but didn’t get quite the rights of it; is it a secret?”
“Certainly not from you” I replied; “at least I have not been given to understand so. My errand is merely to deliver certain papers into the hands of a certain individual ashore here, and then rejoin the ship as early as possible. The task would be absurdly easy, were it not for the unsettled state of the country, which seems to be all up in arms, what with the French, the insurgent Corsicans, and the banditti, the latter being, I am told, especially dangerous.”
“No doubt—no doubt!” remarked Rawlings in an absent sort of way. “Well, I wish you well over your cruise, my lad; keep a cool head, for it seems to me that you’ve white water all round you, whichever way you shape a course. Concerning the rejoining business, how are you going to set about that?”
“Captain Hood advised me to make the best of my way to the northern end of the island, as soon as I have delivered my despatches; he thinks it most likely I shall find the ‘Juno’ there.”
“Ay, ay? So that’s it, eh?” ejaculated Rawlings. “Well, I s’pose you’ll haul your land-tacks aboard for that trip; it’ll be a change from knocking about at sea. But if you find you can’t work that traverse, just you slip down to Ajaccio some quiet night; there’s a whole fleet of pleasure-boats of all sorts and sizes there; just jump aboard one of ’em, slip your moorings, and make a coasting v’yage of it. They’re most of ’em capital sea-boats, and you know a good model when you see one by this time, I s’pose. Don’t take a larger craft than you can handle, and, above all, don’t take a lateener; they’re fine craft when they have a full crew aboard as knows how to handle ’em, but they’re dreadful awkward for one hand. You’ll find some little things about five-and-twenty foot over all; they’re plenty large enough, and some of ’em are regular leg-o’-mutton-rigged—a big sail for’ard and a jigger aft; they sail like witches, and’ll go right in the wind’s eye. Look out for one of them chaps; one man can handle ’em in any weather. And now I must be off. Good-bye, my lad, and good luck to ye.”
So saying, he shook hands, and, plunging into the shrubbery, disappeared.