THE SKIPPER OF THE SPEEDWELL.
The alarm took us by surprise, for we had expected to get the start on our enemies by at least half an hour. That the officers of the law were at the door none of us doubted. We stood still where we were, and in a whisper the captain admonished us to be quiet. There was a brief silence, and then the rapping began again.
“What am I to do?” whispered Monsieur Ragoul, and so loudly that his wife promptly clapped a hand over his mouth.
“They have come to seize us,” said I, in a low voice. “I fear we are in a trap, with no choice but to yield or fight.”
“Resistance would be folly,” Captain Rudstone replied quickly, “and for Miss Hatherton’s sake we must not be taken. There is a chance for us yet—it is possible that the back way of the house has been left unguarded.”
“Then let us be off at once,” I urged, taking courage from his suggestions.
As I spoke, a lull came in the pounding, and a voice cried loudly, “Open! Open!”
Monsieur Ragoul was fairly beside himself with terror and the servants were as helpless as himself; so the captain and I had to act for ourselves, and that without the loss of another second. We found the side door, opened it, and closed it softly behind us when we stepped into the court. The pounding at the front of the house had started afresh, and there was a clamor off in the distance; but so far as we could see by the moonlight this rear avenue of escape was open.
The captain led the way forward, and I followed with Miss Hatherton at my side; her hand rested on my arm, and I could not detect the slightest tremor in her touch. We glided swiftly across the court, and entered a narrow passage leading to the street beyond. We were just at the end of it when a man appeared abruptly from one side and barred the way.
“Not so fast!” he exclaimed, with a movement to draw a weapon. “Stop, in the name of—”
The fellow got no further, for quickly the captain had him pinned by the throat. The two fell after a brief scuffle, and I heard somebody’s head give the stone an ugly rap. The captain jumped to his feet, but the other man lay motionless and quiet.
“Is he dead?” Miss Hatherton asked, in a horrified whisper.
I bent over the fellow, and recognized him as one of the town watch.
“He is only stunned,” I replied, “but he got a bad fall, and won’t know anything for a couple of hours.”
Meanwhile Captain Rudstone had ventured out of the passage to reconnoiter, and he called to us sharply to join him. We did so, and were relieved to find that the street was dark and empty.
“I feared the man would have companions with him,” said I. “It seems he came round here alone.”
“Yes, luckily for us,” the captain replied. “There will be a pretty row before long; that scoundrel Mackenzie has wasted no time in showing his hand. But I think we are fairly safe, and if the skipper of the Speedwell is open to reason we shall be going down the river under full sail within the hour.”
“I hope so, indeed,” I replied. “You say the man is a friend of yours?”
“He owes me more than one service, Mr. Carew, but enough of speech! Do you and Miss Hatherton follow me closely, and avoid any appearance of alarm or haste.”
We had already crossed the street that lay in the rear of the Silver Lily, and entered one at right angles to it. There was a great deal of noise behind us, and for this reason there was the more danger to be apprehended from the front, since the alarm had roused some of the inhabitants of the quarter from their beds. Here and there men passed us with sharp glances, and curious faces stared down at us from open windows. But none stopped us, so boldly and with such unconcern did we comport ourselves, and after treading a maze of the straggling and dirty little thoroughfares, we came out on Bonaventure Street at a point close to the river.
And now we made a discovery that was very discomforting. Looking up in the direction of the hotel, we could see vaguely-moving figures, and there was a sound of shouting and running that swelled louder on the air.
“Our escape has been discovered,” said I.
“Without a doubt,” replied Captain Rudstone; “and what is worse, the chase is coming this way. Some persons whom we met have given information. But the river is close at hand, and our pursuers have barely started from the Silver Lily.”
“Will we escape them?” Miss Hatherton inquired anxiously.
“Assuredly,” said I, in spite of a lurking doubt. “Keep up your courage. We are almost within reach of safety.”
We quickened our pace—this end of the street was deserted—and fifty yards more brought us to the water’s edge. The captain and I felt a fear that neither of us put into words, but happily it proved unfounded; for at the landing-steps, a short distance below, the faithful Baptiste was waiting with a boat—a deep, roomy little craft which he had found near by. At once we got in, Baptiste retreated to the bow, and Miss Hatherton and myself occupied the stern seat. The captain took the oars, and he wisely made the most of the opportunity by pulling straight out from shore and in between the shipping that was anchored hereabouts. It is a wonder we fared so well, for swinging lanterns shed their light upon us, and we passed under decks where men were pacing their night watches. But no inquisitive voices hailed us, and we glided safely through to the open river and turned downstream with the current. The tangle of masts and spars receded behind us, hiding the spot where we had embarked, and for five minutes we drifted on in the moonlight, our hearts too full for speech. Then Miss Hatherton broke the silence.
“Is the ship that we are seeking near or far?” she asked.
Captain Rudstone turned in his seat, and pointed to a dark object about half a mile below us.
“There lies the Speedwell,” he replied, “a quarter of a mile out from shore, and by herself.”
This was reassuring news, but there were perils to be reckoned with. A great hue and cry was spreading along the town’s edge, mainly in the direction of the landing-stairs, and we looked for a boat to appear behind us at any moment. Also, to my mind, there was some uncertainty as to the reception the Speedwell’s skipper would give us.
However, there was no sign of pursuit within next five minutes, and by that time we were alongside of the ship, which was a tidy brig of some hundred and fifty tons burden. Her sea gear was rove and her sails stowed. Several heads looked over her bulwarks as we made fast, and a voice hailed us sharply.
“That you, Bunker?” the captain replied.
“Yes. Who are you?” came suspiciously.
“Myles Rudstone.”
There was an exclamation of surprise, and a moment later a rope ladder was thrown down to us. Baptiste and I and the girl preceded the captain, and as he followed us he cast the boat adrift. At the first sight, seeing him on deck by the glare of a lantern, I was favorably impressed by Hiram Bunker. He was a short, thick-set man, with a sandy beard and a shrewd, good natured face. He scanned Miss Hatherton and myself with open amazement, and shook hands heartily with Captain Rudstone.
“Glad to meet you again, sir,” he cried in a nasal voice. “My mate wakened me up to listen to the row over yonder,” pointing to the shore, “and that’s why I’m on deck at this hour. I might have guessed you had a hand in the rumpus. But what does it mean, anyway?”.
The captain explained, making the situation thoroughly clear, and the little skipper listened with thoughtful attention.
“It’s an ugly scrape,” was his grave comment.
“It is that; but you can get us out of it. What do you say?”
“I say I’ll do it,” cried the skipper. “I’m a Hudson Bay man at heart, and I’ll save the lot of you—hang the risk!”
“And you will sail at once?”
“At once. I’ve got my full cargo on board, and I was only waiting for daylight to start. It’s not far off that now. But, shiver my timbers, if there don’t come the rascals you thought you had slipped!”
He pointed up the river, and I saw a longboat approaching swiftly. It was still a good distance off, but there was not a moment to lose, and the skipper was aware of the fact. He hastily roused the crew, and I never saw a more pleasing sight than that hardy lot of men as they set to work to unfurl the sails and get the vessel under way.
Miss Hatherton stood with me at the bulwark, holding to my arm, and asking me what I thought of the situation. I hardly knew how to answer her, for there was no telling as yet what was going to happen. A stiff breeze was blowing ready for the canvas, and when the anchor was lifted we began to drift. But meanwhile the boat had come up close, and with evident determination to board us. It held ten men, and they were mostly at the oars.
“Sheer off, there!” cried the skipper. “What do you want?”
“You are sheltering fugitives from the law,” a harsh voice replied. “Give them up. It’s a case of murder!”
The skipper refused in plain terms, and catching a sudden gleam of steel, he shouted savagely:
“If you come any nearer or fire a single shot I’ll give you a volley of ten guns!”
By this time the ship was under way and moving with full canvas spread. The pursuing boat fell back, its occupants yelling curses and threats; and so the danger passed. The Speedwell bore swiftly on, leaving a foamy wake dancing on the bosom of the St. Lawrence, and in my delight I felt tempted to throw my arms about Miss Hatherton. Captain Rudstone joined us, and with thankful hearts we watched the lights of Quebec fading in the distance.