At that I shouted back an assent; though exhaustion had so wrought upon me that my voice was strangely weak; and again betaking myself to the oars, I gained at length the vessel’s side, where a dozen friendly hands assisted me aboard. The tall gentleman had disappeared from the poop, but his companion, whom I took to be the master of the ship, came forward to receive me. He quickly cut short my few stammered expressions of gratitude. “Presently, presently!” he said, eyeing me closely. “Why, y’are wet to the skin, man, and fit subject for an ague. Here,” he cried, beckoning to two of the seamen standing near, “take him below and rig him out amongst ye! No, no,” he continued not unkindly, seeing that I was about to speak, “y’are on my ship, man, and needs must obey orders! Afterwards you may tell your tale.” And he turned upon his heel.
I said no more, but followed the seamen down into the forecastle, where, after receiving a somewhat motley change of garments, together with a stiff pannikin of cognac, I felt little the worse for my night’s adventure. From the seamen themselves I could gain but little information, save that the brig was the Pride of Devon, three days out from Kinsale, and bound for Southampton, and that she had been considerably delayed by the thick fog prevailing the previous day. Upon all other subjects they were strangely reticent, so that I presently gave up questioning them and signified my readiness to accompany them on deck.
On arriving there I saw the figure of the master awaiting me at the foot of the poop ladder; but to my astonishment, upon my approaching he laid a finger upon his lips, and advancing to the door of a cabin, which I had not noticed beneath the poop, he threw it open and signed to me to enter.
I did so, wondering.
’Twas a small room, yet somewhat larger than the size of the brig itself promised. In the centre was a table, upon which a repast was already spread; and at this table was seated the gentleman I had previously seen.
He rose at my entrance and made me a courtly bow; then for a moment we gazed at each other in silence. He was, I think, the handsomest man I have ever seen—with regular features and fair moustache matching in colour with his court peruke. He had laid aside his hat, though I noted with surprise that he still wore his plain dark riding coat tightly buttoned, concealing all of his dress beneath save a pair of spurred riding boots. Of fully my own height, he may have been somewhat older in years; but it was rather the lofty look of mingled pride and command upon his face that caught and rivetted the eye. Here was a born leader of men I told myself, one accustomed to exact obedience, and possessing a fiery and indomitable will. No poverty of dress could conceal the latent power suppressed within, or the grace of movement that spoke equally of noble birth.
“Do I address the owner of this vessel?” I said bluntly. For a moment I thought that a faint smile flickered upon his face.
“For the present at least, sir,” he answered quietly, “I think that I may safely claim that title.”
“Then permit me to tender you my sincere thanks for your timely assistance, sir,” I replied.
He raised his hand deprecatingly.