Chacot, with no very good grace, obeyed, and I, fearing that some violence might be offered, accompanied him into the room.
Chacot soon appeared with a seaman’s dress, which Larry, jumping out of his bear-skin, quickly put on.
As yet he had had no time to tell me how he had come into the power of the French fisherman; and as I also did not wish to keep the mayor waiting, as soon as Larry was ready, we hurried out to join him.
“I’ll have my revenge on you one of these days,” I heard Chacot exclaim, but I thought it as well to take no notice of his remark.
“Come with me to my house,” said Monsieur Jules Pontet. “I want to hear how that fellow Jacques Chacot got hold of the English seaman. He must have been a stupid fellow to have allowed himself to be so ill-treated.”
“I have not yet had time to make inquiries, monsieur,” I said, “but I will, if you wish it, at once ask him how it happened.”
“By all means,” replied the mayor; so I desired Larry to tell me how he had escaped from the hooker, and been turned into a bear.
“It is a long yarn, Mr Terence, but I’ll cut it short to plase the gintleman. You’ll remember the night we were aboard the hooker. I was asleep forward, just dreaming of Ballinahone, an’ thinking I was leading off a dance with Molly Maguire, when down came the whole castle tumbling about our heads. Opening my eyes, I jumped out of my bunk, and sprang up the fore hatchway, just in time to see that the masts had been carried away, and that the hooker was going to the bottom. How it all happened I couldn’t for the life of me tell. I sang out at the top of my voice for you, Mr Terence, and rushed aft to the cabin, where I expected to find you asleep. But though I shouted loud enough to waken the dead, you didn’t answer, and not a soul was aboard but myself. For a moment I caught sight of the stern of a vessel steering away from us, which made me guess that we had been run down. The water was rushing into the little craft, and I knew that she must go to the bottom. Her masts and spars were still hanging to her side, an’ so, thinks I to meself, I’ll have a struggle for life. I had seen an axe in the companion hatch, and, getting hold of it, I cut away the rigging, and had time to get hold of a cold ham and some bread and a bottle of water, which I stowed in a basket. Thinks I, I’ll make a raft, and so I hove overboard some planks, with part of the main hatch and a grating, and, getting on them, lashed them together in a rough fashion, keeping my eye all the time on the hooker, to see that she didn’t go down, and catch me unawares. I was so mighty busy with this work, that if the vessel which had run the hooker down had come back to look for us I shouldn’t have seen her. I had just got my raft together, when I saw that the hooker was settling down, so I gave it a shove off from her side; and faith I was only just in time, for it made a rush forward, and I thought was going down with the vessel, but up it came again, and there I was, floating all alone on the water.
“During the night a light breeze from the northward sprang up, and I began to fear that I might be drifted out into the Atlantic. However, I couldn’t help myself, and was not going to cry die. I was mighty thankful that the sea was smooth, and so I sat on my raft, trying to be as happy as I could; but the thinking of you, Mr Terence, and not knowing if you had escaped, often made me sad. I wished, too, that I had had my fiddle, when I would have played myself a tune to keep up my spirits. I can’t say how many days I spent on the raft, sleeping when I could not keep my eyes open, till all the provisions and the water I had brought were gone. Then I got very bad, and thought I was going to die. The weather, too, was changing, and the sea getting up. I was just lying down on the raft, not long before the bright sun sank into the ocean, and not expecting to see it rise again, when I heard a shout, and, opening my eyes, I saw a small craft, which I guessed was a French fishing-boat from her look, coming towards me. She having hove-to, presently a boat was lowered from her deck, and I was taken on board, more dead than alive. The Frenchmen gave me some food, and, taking me down into the cabin, put me to bed.
“It came on to blow very hard that night. For some days we were knocking about, not able to get back to port. From the heavy seas which broke over the little vessel, and from the way I heard the Frenchmen speaking, I thought that after all we should be lost, but I was too weak to care much about the matter just then.