The Crimson Sign / A Narrative of the Adventures of Mr. Gervase Orme, Sometime Lieutenant in Mountjoy's Regiment of Foot

by S. R. Keightley

He thought of Dorothy, who loved him and would repay him for his labour; of Macpherson, whose brave spirit was perhaps keeping him company on this perilous venture; and pardonably enough, of the honour he would gain for this deed. It never occurred to him that having reached the ships there would be any difficulty about the relief of the city. When once his story had been told, they must up with their anchors, if there was any manhood among them, and try the mettle of their guns. He imagined to himself with what joy Dorothy would welcome him back when he came among the first with the good news.

So he swam on for half an hour carried slowly down by the current, and then for the first time he began to feel that he had overestimated his strength, and that his extremities were growing numb and cold. He had long since passed the lights of Pennyburn; he must now be coming close to the boom where would be his first great danger, for the lights yonder on either side of the river must be the lights of the forts that guarded the barrier. The water seemed somehow to have grown colder and less buoyant, and worst of all, the moon was beginning to show through the masses of broken cloud. Three months ago he would have found little difficulty in swimming twice the distance, but now he dragged himself with difficulty through the water, and his shoulders were growing stiff and painful. What if he failed to reach the fleet after all! His mind was filled with despair at the thought, and he pulled himself together with an effort and swam on with an obstinate determination to keep himself afloat. With the wind blowing freshly, the waves came leaping past him with an icy shiver that seemed to take away his strength.

But there was gradually forcing itself upon his mind the conviction that, after all, he must land and make his way upon foot till he came opposite to where the ships were riding at anchor. It would be better to make for the shore at once while three hours of darkness still remained, for when the light came it would be impossible to travel. While he was making up his mind as to where it would be safest for him to land, the moon came out suddenly with a startling brilliance, lighting up the river and the banks on either side. He could now see Charles Fort distinctly, and he fancied that he could discern lying across the river the dark fabric of the boom, with the water leaping into white waves against it. It was out of the question to attempt to cross the barrier now; even where he was swimming his position was perilous in the extreme.

Then he saw, near the shore, a small hooker lying at anchor, and almost without knowing why he struck out towards it. There was little or no likelihood of there being anyone on board and if, as seemed to be the case, he should have to lie concealed the whole of the day, he might find some food on board the little craft. He swam cautiously round her, but he could hear no sound; then catching hold of the cable, he lifted himself up by the bowsprit and found himself on board. She was decked forward, and though he did not know for what purpose she was used, there was a large gun covered with a piece of canvas lying amidships. But though there was no one on board, a small lamp suspended from a beam was burning dimly in the forecastle. He felt that it would not be wise to tarry long, so diving hastily down the companion, he began to investigate the contents of the lockers. In one he found several louis which he left undisturbed, but in another to his joy he discovered some oat-cakes and a quantity of rum in a case bottle. The latter was particularly welcome, and after a dram he felt that he had got a new lease of strength and vigour.

The circulation was beginning to return to his hands and feet. He sat down on the edge of a bunk and chafed his limbs till the cramp that he had begun to experience, was entirely gone. He was beginning to think that it was time to take his departure, when he heard the sound of oars creaking in their rowlocks and voices almost alongside. Hastily extinguishing the light he drew out the knife with which he was armed, and creeping out of the forecastle dropped cautiously down close to the great gun, where he concealed himself under the canvas. Then as the bow of a boat grated against the side of the hooker, he could see from where he lay a man and a lad clambering on board, the latter with the painter in his hand. “Make fast,” said the former, “and come and help me to get the mainsail up. They´ll be aboard in an hour.”

The man made his way into the forecastle growling and swearing at the lamp having gone out, while the boy clambered over the boom and made fast the painter to a ring in the stern-sheets. Gervase had hoped that the boy might have followed the man into the forecastle, and that he himself might then have dropped overboard unperceived. But in this he was disappointed, for the boy instead of going below began to unloose the earing by which the mainsail was fastened, whistling as he did so with a clear shrill note that Gervase remembered for years afterwards.

Presently the man came up from below swearing at the boy for the noise he was making, and began to take in a fathom or two of the cable by which the craft was moored. There seemed to Gervase no chance of escaping unperceived, and a better opportunity than this might not present itself. So while the man knelt with his back turned towards him, and the boy was fumbling with the halyards in the darkness, he rose from his place of concealment and leaped upon the bulwark.

The lad hearing the noise turned round with a look of terror on his face. “Holy Mother of God!” he cried, “it´s a spirit;” and as the man turned round where he was kneeling at the cat-heads, he seemed for a moment to share his belief and participate in his alarm.

As Gervase dropped noiselessly into the water they were both too bewildered to raise any alarm, and the river bed was already under his feet before he heard their outcry. Then they called out loudly to someone on the shore. Wading through the water toward the land, Gervase noticed for the first time a low fort built of sods and rough timber close to the bank. At the hubbub that was raised by the crew of the hooker, the door was opened and a man came down towards the water´s edge in the uniform of a French sergeant.

Seeing Gervase come upon the bank and mistaking him for one of the crew he called out, “Que le diable faites-vous ce bruit, coquin?” But as he came down and saw the young fellow closer, clad only in his shirt and breeches, he immediately divined what was wrong and came running down the bank. Gervase waited till he came close up; then, and it was an old trick he had learned years before, he put out his foot and struck him a tremendous blow with his left hand. The man went headlong into the water, and without waiting to see what became of him, Gervase ran at full speed along the bank, and never halted to take breath till he found himself in the shelter of the wood, that at that time grew thick along the bank.