The feat at arms of Monsieur Mornay at the expense of the luckless Gratz had set the ship by the ears, and with little opposition Bras-de-Fer became the third in command. Before many weeks were gone it was discovered that he had his seamanship at as ready a convenience as his pike-play, for in a troublesome squall in a windy watch on deck, while Jacquard was below, he had not scrupled to take the command from Captain Billy Winch, who was so deep in liquor that he didn’t know the main-brace from a spritsail sheet, and who had had the Sally upon her beam-ends, with all his ports and hatches open. Mornay sprang to the helm and gave the orders necessary to bring her to rights. Indeed, the command had clearly devolved upon Jacquard; for the lucid intervals of Captain Billy Winch were becoming less and less, until from that state of continued jubilation which marked his departure from the port of London he had passed into one of beatific unconsciousness, from which he only aroused himself to assuage his thirst the more copiously. One black morning in the wilds of the Atlantic he reached the deck, his eyes wide with fever and his mouth full of oaths, swearing that he would no longer stay below, but his legs were so completely at a loss that, what with the wild plunges of the vessel and the assaults of the seas which made clean breaches over her, he was thrown down into the scuppers again and again, and all but drowned in the wash of the deck. But the bruising and sousing in the saltwater, instead of rebuffing him or abating a whit of his ardor, but served to sober him and make him the more ambitious to take his proper place aboard the vessel. Jacquard would have restrained him, but he threw the Frenchman aside, and, while trying to descend the ladder at the angle of the poop, lost his balance, and, catching wildly at the lee bulwark, disappeared in the dirty smother under the quarter and was seen no more.
After this mishap, Jacquard went below to the cabin with Mornay to make his plans for the future of the Saucy Sally. There, among the rum-reeking effects of the captain, he discovered the royal charter and warrant under which the vessel sailed, together with the lists of Spanish vessels which should have left port, their destinations and probable values. Jacquard outlined the plans he had made for their operations when they should have reached the waters he had chosen. Cornbury, who had been reading abstractedly in the warrant, gave a sudden cry.
“Bresac,” he said, pointing a long forefinger upon the parchment. “Faith, my dear man, your fortune is a silly, whimsical jade, after all. Cast your eye hither for a moment of time.”
Mornay took the document in amazement.
Whereas it hath come to Our Notice [it began] that certain Enemies of the State sailing in the Vessels of the Kingdom of Spain have prepared, ordered, and levied war against Us, and have molested and harassed Our lawful Commerce upon the Sea, to the oppression of Our loyal Subjects carrying on the same, by the advice of Our Privy Council we hereby grant to our good and loyal subject Henry Heywood, Knt., that his vessel or vessels—
“’Tis as plain as a pike-handle,” said Cornbury. And as Mornay still scanned the document: “Faith, can ye not see?—ye’re a guest upon a vessel of your own. The vessel and all she owns is yours, man—yours!”
“Parbleu!” said Mornay, when the edge of his wonderment was dulled. “I believe you. A rare investment, indeed, for the millions of the Bresacs.”
“A thousand per centum at the very least, with a modicum for the King. Ye cannot wonder how Charles bewailed the man’s demise. Ye touched his purse, René. And friendship has little to expect from the conscience of an empty pocket.”
“By my life, it is so!” said the wide-eyed Mornay. “Jacquard shall know. Listen, my friend.” And, with a particular reticence with regard to the name of Mistress Clerke, he told Jacquard of the great secret, the rape of the papers, and the other things pertaining to his discovery. It was learned that in the matter Jacquard knew only one Captain Brail, a ship-chandler and owner, who had the finding of all the sea appurtenances, the making of the contracts, and the furnishing of the stores. The sympathetic Jacquard followed Monsieur Mornay through a description of the duel, his face wreathed in smiles, his eyes shining with delight. He wept at the tale of the mother, commiserated the orphan, and, when he learned how Sir Henry Heywood had taken possession of the proofs of the boy’s birth and lineage and had kept him from his rightful inheritance, Jacquard rose upon his long legs and swore aloud at the man’s perfidy. When Mornay had finished, he sat silent a moment, clasping and unclasping his knotted, bony fingers.
“It is a strange story, monsieur—the strangest I have ever heard. It means, monsieur, that upon the Saucy Sally, at least, you have come into your own. Besides, once my captain, always my captain. Allons! It shall be as before. Bras-de-Fer shall lead. Jacquard shall obey. That is all.” He arose and took Monsieur Mornay by the hand. “Henceforth,” he said, “it shall be Captain René Bras-de-Fer. Now we will go upon deck, and I shall tell them.”