“Of course it looks fishy, but you must fight a whale with a shark if you haven’t got a harpoon. I must either go to law, which is the harpoon, with old Schwartzbrod, who is the whale, or else adopt his own methods, and play the shark. You’ve got to choose which course of fish you’re going to take, and you’ve got to give your order to the waiter now.”
“Suppose I refuse, what will you do? Attempt to capture us?”
“Bless you, no. I’ll merely follow you, just as a shark follows a doomed vessel. The moment you approach a port that contains a British consul, I’ll dash on ahead, show my papers, and set the law in motion, which, as I have informed you, I am reluctant to do. The moment that happens I can’t save you, captain. I don’t know what the penalty is, or whether there is a penalty. Perhaps your obedience to orders may allow you to slip through the meshes of the net, and then again perhaps it won’t. If it doesn’t, then that little cottage on Southampton water, which was yours a moment ago, will never be occupied by your family. Oh, hang it all, I’m either coercing or bribing you now, whichever it is. You must make a free choice. Whatever happens, I’ll buy that piece of land, and present it to your wife, if you will tell me where it is, and give me her address. Now, captain, make your choice: the whale or the shark.”
The captain heaved a deep, almost a heartrending sigh, that seemed to come from the very bottom of his hoots. He rose slowly and ponderously, and stretched forth his hand.
“Lord Stranleigh,” he said solemnly, as one about to cross the Rubicon, “Lord Stranleigh, I am ready to walk the plank.”
When Lord Stranleigh emerged from the captain’s cabin of the Rajah, and drew a long, satisfying breath of the sweet evening air outside, he saw that the moon had risen, while the glow from the sunset still tinted the western sky. The slight breeze from Africa had completely died away, and the sea lay around the two ships smooth as a polished mirror. At a word from Stranleigh the captain of the yacht drew her alongside the Rajah, and the engines of both steamers stopped. Captain Wilkie, forewarned, had all his belongings packed, and they were speedily swung aboard the black steamer. The captain of the Rajah, and his mate, flung their possessions into boxes, and thus the transfer was made without loss of time.
“Mackeller,” said Stranleigh, “I fear that luxury is thrown away on you, and besides, experience on the yacht has shown you that there is little chance of anything exciting happening. It must discourage you to remember that none of your repeating rifles have even been unpacked, so I will cause the cases to be swung aboard the Rajah, with sufficient ammunition to massacre our entire naval force, and I’ll give you six of my gamekeepers. You can either use the gamekeepers to shoot the crew, or arm the crew and eliminate the gamekeepers. I had intended to take the crew of the Rajah upon the yacht, and put the crew of the yacht on the Rajah, but I am so selfish that I cannot bring myself to trust those clumsy seafarers from a tramp steamer with the somewhat delicate organization of my yacht. Will you accept the commission, and sail for home on the comfortless Rajah?”
“I shall be delighted, sir,” said Mackeller. “You see, I feel just a little uncertain about the wisdom of leaving Captain Wilkie unprotected with what is, after all, a strange crew. Their captain gives them a good character, but Captain Wilkie, who is a martinet in his way, may get at loggerheads with them, so it is well that he should have a bloodthirsty commander and irresistible force at his beck and call. But remember, Peter, that for every sailor you shoot, one of your gamekeepers must take to the sailoring trade, which might turn out inconvenient in a storm, so repress your war spirit until the captain orders it to belch forth. I imagine your frowning appearance as, resembling the German Emperor, you walk the deck, will quell any incipient mutiny in the bud, if buds are quelled. Nevertheless, it is safer to hold the rifles in the background in case of an emergency. So call for six volunteers from among my men, and then fling your trunk aboard the lugger, after which it will be good-by till I meet you again at Plymouth.” When the exchange was completed the white yacht drew away from the tramp and speedily disappeared to the north like a ghost. Captain Wilkie watched her departure with regret, and was unhappy at his promotion to the unkempt and dirty tramp steamer, with her slouching crew, dressed like scarecrows. The new commander of the yacht felt equally out of place in this trim, scrupulously clean, nickel-plated, bride’s-cake of a ship, while the sailors, in their spick-and-span natty uniforms, gave him the impression of being in a nightmare where an uncouth private had been placed in charge of a company of officers. As he was about the same size as Wilkie, the useful Ponderby, at Stranleigh’s orders, fitted him out next morning in a gorgeous uniform which added to the beauty of his outward appearance without materially augmenting his inward comfort. However, the bluff captain understood his business, no matter what costume he wore, and Stranleigh, studying him very unobtrusively as the voyage went on, came to place a great confidence in him, and felt rather ashamed of the distrust that had caused him to transfer the captain from the Rajah to the yacht. Before a week was past, he was certain that this gruff sea dog would have taken the Rajah direct to Plymouth once he had given his word, quite as faithfully as Captain Wilkie was doing. Although Stranleigh said nothing of this trust, and even doubted if the simple old man had seen the reason of the change, he nevertheless resolved to make amends, though not in words. The weather throughout had been almost obtrusively gentle, and Stranleigh complained that the voyage was falsifying all of Clark Russell’s novels. He grumbled to the doctor that his faith in Clark Russell was undergoing a tremendous strain.
“When we reach a dead calm in one of Clark Russell’s novels,” he said to the doctor, “we always know what to expect. Suddenly out of the west comes a ripping cyclone which lays us over on our beam ends. Then wild, blinding rain and utter darkness, lit up only by vivid flashes of lightning. Every one has to cling to whatever is nearest him: overboard go the chicken coops, and there is such a general pandemonium that the voice of command cannot be heard. Crash go the masts, funnels, and what not: we right ourselves, staggering under the mountainous waves, and find ourselves a dismantled hulk next morning, with the cook missing, and no hot rolls for breakfast. Now, in reality we have had evenings without a zephyr afloat, then follows a peaceful night, and morning comes with a maidenly blush, like that on a new-born rose. I imagine the ocean has improved since Clark Russell’s time, or perhaps the Government weather bureau has regulated tilings. We are a wonderful people, doctor, and at last Britannia really does rule the waves.”
Fast as his yacht was, the young man had become tired of the voyage. He yearned for his morning paper and a stroll down Piccadilly. When well across the placid Bay of Biscay, he called up one of his wireless telegraphers, and said to him: