“They are the curse of the seas!” he said impetuously. “’Tis a sign of the times and a scandal to our navy that such hornets are permitted to sail with impunity. Even upon our own Devon coast I have known men to have been kidnapped for the plantations.”
He stopped abruptly, as if he had said too much, and I saw a shade of annoyance for a moment upon his face. But on my own part, though I pretended to see nothing, I was quick to notice his confusion; and toying with my glass, I replied:
“I learn, sir, from the seamen that this vessel is bound for Southampton; had it been at all possible, I would fain have landed in Devonshire.”
“Nothing is easier,” he responded. “My own destination is Teignmouth; if this will suit your convenience, you are welcome to accompany me ashore.”
“Sir,” I made answer, “you are a very courteous gentleman, and right gladly do I accept your offer.”
He bent his head in acknowledgment.
“Then that is settled,” he replied gaily, with a wave of the hand, as if dismissing the subject. “For the rest, I fear I do but play the host indifferently. Your glass is empty, permit me to replenish it. And now, sir, what think you of Luxembourg’s qualities as a general?”
Thereupon we plunged once more into a discussion of the campaigns in Flanders, upon which subject I found my companion to have an intimate knowledge; so that it was not until nearly an hour later that we ascended to the deck. We there found a distinct change for the better in the appearance of the weather. A fitful gleam of sunshine stole occasionally through the heavy grey clouds and the mist was gradually clearing from the surface of the water. Away to the north, a dark streak of land was faintly discernible, which the master speedily informed us was the distant coast of Devon. But the wind had fallen considerably and the little vessel forged but slowly through the water. One thing I could not help but notice—the unusual deference paid by the master to my companion; confirming me in my opinion as to his rank and quality. All morning, indeed, we sailed slowly along the coast, seeing no other vessel, for at this time the fear of the French kept our merchantmen to the harbours, save when a goodly number could be conveyed by a fleet of men-of-war. And with every hour I could see that my companion’s impatience to reach our destination visibly increased. Though still preserving his courteous demeanour towards me, a dozen times, at least, I heard him demand of the master whether sail could not be increased. But the latter only shook his head, and noon found us some four miles south of Prawle Point. It was shortly afterwards that we descended to the cabin to dine; but our meal was not concluded ere we were again summoned to the deck by the report of a suspicious sail. My companion rose at once, and together we ascended to the poop, where we found the master anxiously scanning a sail that showed plainly through the mist some ten miles to the southward. Nor had we ourselves escaped observation, for even as we stood watching, the vessel’s course was changed and she bore down upon us.
My companion turned to the master with a mute inquiry in his eyes.
The latter shook his head with a lugubrious air. “’Tis not, yon vessel will prove to be some rascally French picaroon. Were there more wind I would not fear the result; but I misdoubt gentlemen, whether we shall see Teignmouth this trip.”