Kitabı oku: «The Cruise of the Frolic», sayfa 7
“In that case, I might have claimed the honour for my vessel, which is larger than either,” observed Mr Sandgate, with a tone in which I detected a sneer lurking under a pretended laugh.
“Ah, but then I’m an old friend,” interposed the little man; “ain’t I, Miss Emily? – known you ever since you was a little girl, though you do now and then pretend not to remember it.”
“Hang the fellow’s impudence!” Harcourt was on the point of exclaiming, and perhaps might have said something of the sort, when his attention was called off by another actor in the drama. He was a corpulent, consequential-looking gentleman, with a vulgar expression of countenance, dressed in a broad-brimmed straw hat and shooting-coat, with trousers of a huge plaid pattern, and he had an umbrella under his arm though there was not a cloud in the sky. He was, in fact, just the person I might have supposed as the friend of little Ribbons, who, as soon as he espied him, with great glee ran on to meet him. Poor Emily, at the same time, pronounced the words, “My guardian, Mr Bosley,” in a tone which showed little pleasure at the rencontre, and instantly withdrew her arm from Harcourt’s. She was evidently anxious to prevent a meeting between the parties, for she turned round to the Miss Granvilles and begged them not to come any further, and then holding out her hand to Harcourt, thanked him for the pleasant excursions he had afforded her. She was too late, however, for Mr Bosley advancing, bowed awkwardly to the Miss Granvilles, and then addressing Emily, said, —
“Ay, little missie, a long holiday you’ve been taking with your friends; but I shan’t let you play truant again, I can tell you. I’ve heard all about your doings from my friend Warwick here – so come along, come along;” and seizing her arm, without more ceremony he walked her off, while Mr Ribbons smirked and chuckled at the thoughts of having her now in his power, as he fancied. Miles Sandgate, at the same time, bowing to the ladies, and nodding to us in a familiar way which verged upon cool impudence, followed their steps. We all felt excessively annoyed at the scene; but far more regretted that so charming a girl should be in the power of such a coarse barbarian as Mr Bosley appeared.
On our passage back to Cowes, Miss Granville told me all she knew of Miss Manners. She was the daughter of a Colonel Manners, who had gone out on some mining speculation or other, to one of the South American States, but it was believed that the ship which was conveying him to England had foundered, with all hands, at sea.
He had left his daughter Emily under the charge of a Mr Eastway, a merchant of high standing, and a very gentlemanly man. Mr Eastway, who was the only person cognisant of Colonel Manners’ plans, died suddenly, and Mr Bosley, his partner, took charge of her and the little property invested in his house for her support. She had been at the same school with the Miss Granvilles, who there formed a friendship for her which had rather increased than abated after they grew up. This was the amount of the information I could extract from them. She never complained of her guardian to them; but she was as well able as they were to observe his excessive vulgarity, though there was probably under it a kindliness of feeling which in some degree compensated for it. Harcourt certainly did his best to conceal the feelings with which he could not help acknowledging to himself she had inspired him, and was much pleased at hearing the Granvilles say that they intended writing to her to propose joining her at Ryde on the day of the regatta.
Chapter Eleven
A Lady Spirited Away – The Chase – The Consequences
In the mean time Harcourt made daily trips to Ryde, and promenaded the pier from one end to the other, and through every street of the town, in the hope of meeting Miss Manners, but in vain. He met Ribbons frequently, but of course he could not inquire after her from him, and consequently avoided him. Sandgate he encountered several times; but he had conceived such an antipathy to the man, as well as a suspicion of his character, that, as O’Malley was not with us, he did not think it necessary to recognise him. Harcourt felt all the time that he was not treating O’Malley and me fairly in keeping about the island, and therefore promised to start on a long cruise directly after the regatta. The first day of the regatta was cold, and blowing fresh, so none of the ladies went. It was the schooner-match round the island, when the little “Bianca” carried off the cup from her huge competitors, though she came in last, so much time being allowed for the difference of tonnage. The next day of the regatta the weather was most propitious, and we had the pleasure of meeting Miss Manners on the end of the pier with Mr Bosley, who saved Harcourt from inviting him, by telling us that “if we would give him a hundred pounds for every minute he was in that gimcrack-looking boat, he wouldn’t come. Let him have a steady-going steamer, which didn’t care for winds and tides.” He made no objection to Emily’s accompanying us; though little Ribbons coming up just as she was stepping into the boat, reproached her for not visiting the “Dido” instead.
The sight was beautiful in the extreme; for, independent of the racing-vessels, hundreds of other yachts were sailing about in every direction. The course also being round the Nab light, and a similar light-vessel moored at the mouth of the Southampton Water, the racing-yachts were the whole time in sight of Ryde. The Royal Victoria Yacht Club-house was decorated with banners, and from a battery in front of it were fired the necessary signals and salutes, while several yachts anchored off the pier-head were also gayly-decked with flags. In the afternoon the Queen came from Osborne on board the “Fairy,” amid the animated scene, and made several wide circles; passing close to the pier, and as she glided by, each vessel saluted with their guns or lowered their flags. The whole day the “Dido” had most perseveringly endeavoured to follow us, and several times we saw her nearly run foul of other vessels. At last, as she passed the “Fairy,” Ribbons, in a fit of enthusiastic loyalty, I suppose, loaded his gun to the muzzle, and discharged it directly at the steamer, the lighted wadding almost falling on board, while the recoil of the gun upset the little man, who was looking with dismay at the effect of his achievement. He was not hurt, however, for he picked himself up, and managed to fire another wadding on board the “Amethyst.” The last we saw of him that day, he was hard and fast on a mud-bank half-way between Ryde and Cowes. Sandgate’s vessel was also cruising about, and passed us several times, though at a respectful distance; but I saw that his telescope was directed each time towards Miss Manners. On a sudden it struck me that Griffiths might possibly know something of the man, and I accordingly asked him, in a mere casual way, if he had ever seen him before he came on board us?
“Why, yes, sir, I have seen him more than once,” he answered. “Maybe he don’t recollect me, though we’ve gone through some wild scenes together.”
“How is that?” I asked, with surprise.
“Why, you see, sir, I’ve done something in the free-trade line myself, I own, and he’s lent me a hand at it.”
“What! you don’t mean to say that Mr Sandgate is a smuggler?” I asked.
“Yes, I do, sir, though, and many’s the rich crop he’s run in that ere craft of his.”
“Impossible! why she’s a yacht,” I replied.
“No, sir, she’s only a private vessel at the best, and if she was a yacht, she’s not the only one as – . Howsomdever, I won’t say any thing again yachts. It’s the lookout of the other members of the club that they don’t smuggle, and more’s the shame of them who does.”
“But I thought that smugglers were so bound together that they would never speak against each other,” I observed.
“So they are, sir; and though that Mr Sandgate has no reason to expect any favour from me, for reasons he well knows, I wouldn’t speak to anybody else of him as I do but to you, or my master, because I don’t think he’s fit company for such as you, sir, and that’s the truth.”
Thinking over what Griffiths had told me, I determined in future to be on my guard against Sandgate. I, however, did not repeat what I had heard to any one except Harcourt. In the afternoon we returned to Cowes, leaving Miss Manners with the Granvilles.
Harcourt having promised to pay some friends a visit at Torquay, the next morning we got under way, and, though the winds were light, we got there on the following day. Taking all points into consideration, I think Torquay and its surrounding scenery is the most beautiful part of England. Our stay was short, for Harcourt was anxious to get back to Cowes, as he had found metal more attractive than even Devonshire could afford.
We reached Cowes late in the day, and after dinner went to the Granvilles’, for we were now on sufficiently intimate terms to do so. I missed Emily from their circle, and inquired if she was still staying with them.
“I am sorry to say that she left us suddenly yesterday evening,” answered Miss Granville. “It was almost dark when a letter arrived from her guardian. It stated that he had gone over to Portsmouth on business connected with her affairs, and that when there he was taken dangerously ill; that something had transpired which he could alone communicate to her, and he entreated her to come to him without a moment’s delay. The bearer of the letter was Mr Miles Sandgate, who, it appeared, had met Mr Bosley at Portsmouth, and volunteered to carry it, and to escort Miss Manners back. Emily immediately prepared for her departure, though she hesitated about accepting Mr Sandgate’s offer. We also sent down to the quay to learn if there was any steamer going to Portsmouth that evening, but the last for the day had already left. Mr Sandgate on this requested Emily would allow his vessel to convey her, observing, in the most courteous way, that he saw the difficulties of the case, and would himself remain at Cowes till his vessel returned, saying, at the same time, that he thought he might be of service in escorting her to the hotel where Mr Bosley was lying ill. Mamma herself would have gone with her, but she was unwell, and we girls should not much have mended the matter. Mr Sandgate all the time stood by, acknowledging that he himself was perplexed, and would do any thing she wished; till at last I bethought me of sending our housekeeper, who was very ready to do her best to serve Emily, and to this plan, as Mr Sandgate is a friend of yours as well as of Mr Bosley’s, Emily had no further hesitation in agreeing. We walked with her down to the quay, and saw her safely on board.”
“And have you heard to-day from her?” I asked in a tone of anxiety I could not conceal.
“No,” answered Miss Granville; “we thought she would have written.”
“Good heavens! and has she trusted herself with that man?” exclaimed Harcourt.
Miss Granville stared.
“What do you mean?” she asked.
“That I have very serious suspicions of his character,” answered Harcourt. “I wish that she had taken any other means of getting to Portsmouth: not that I for a moment suspect he would not safely convey her there, but I am unwilling that she should – that any lady, a friend of yours, should have even been on board that vessel.”
“You surprise me!” exclaimed Miss Granville, now beginning to be really alarmed; and I volunteered to run over to Portsmouth at once, to inquire for Mr Bosley, but she had not heard the name of the hotel where he was staying.
“That shall not stop me,” replied Harcourt. “I will inquire at all of them till I learn.”
She smiled at his eagerness, though, when he told her all he had heard of Sandgate, she saw that he had reason for his annoyance at what had occurred. We were engaged in paying our adieus, when the house-bell rang, and directly afterwards Mr Warwick Ribbons was announced. Astonishment was depicted on the countenances of all present, at the appearance of this most unexpected visitor, and all wondered what could have brought him there again. He had, by the by, already called in the morning to beg Miss Manners and her friends would take a sail in the “Dido,” but hearing that she was no longer there, had gone away. He gazed about the room, his round eyes blinking with the bright light after having come out of darkness, and, with a flourish of his hat, he bowed to the ladies.
“Beg pardon,” he said, in a nervous tone; “but I’ve come to ask where Miss Manners is.”
“She has gone to see her guardian, Mr Bosley, who has been taken seriously ill at Portsmouth,” answered Mrs Granville.
“No, she ain’t, ma’am,” he exclaimed, throwing his hat down on the ground with vehemence; “Mr Bosley isn’t ill, and isn’t at Portsmouth, and Miss Manners isn’t with him, for I’m just come from Ryde, and there I saw him as well as ever he was in his life, and he begged that I would come and ask what has become of her. Your servants this morning told me that she wasn’t here, so I made sure that she’d gone back to Ryde, and started off to look after her.”
We were now seriously alarmed at what we had heard, as were the rest of the party in a less degree. Nothing more could we elicit from Mr Ribbons, though Miss Granville convinced him that the account she gave of Miss Manners’s departure was true, and it appeared too certain that she had been carried off for some reason or other by Miles Sandgate. I could have staked my existence that she had been as much deceived by him as were her friends. I need not attempt to describe what were Harcourt’s feelings on finding that his worst suspicions were more than realised. She was in Sandgate’s power, and his vessel was large enough for him to carry her to any distant part of the world. A bold and accomplished seaman as he was, he would not hesitate, of course, to run across the Atlantic, and with the start of upwards of twenty-four hours which he had, it would be impossible to hope to overtake him, even if we could sail at once; but without a good supply of water and provisions, it would be madness to attempt to follow him. This, however, as soon as by possibility we could, we determined to do. Ribbons wanted to come also, but we recommended him to employ his vessel in a different direction to ours; and while I was busy in collecting provisions and stores, Harcourt made inquiries among all the boatmen and revenue people to learn any thing about the “Rover,” and what course she had steered on leaving Cowes. The wind, it appeared, had been from the eastward, and as the tide was ebbing, she must have gone to the westward, and could not have got round by the Nab. At first he could learn nothing about her; but after some time he met a man who had watched her getting under way, and, after she had stood across as if turning up towards Portsmouth, had seen her, or a vessel exactly like her, keep away and run past Cowes, in the direction he supposed. One of the revenue-men, who had been on duty in the guard-boat, had boarded her, and her people said they were bound for Cherbourg. Harcourt found, also, that her character was suspected, and that a revenue-cutter was on the watch for her. This circumstance, he conjectured, if he could fall in with the cutter, would give him the best chance of learning the course she had steered. I believe that he ought to have called in the aid of the law, but of that he did not think; as soon as he found that he could gain no further information about the “Rover,” he came to assist us in getting the “Amethyst” ready for sea. We also shipped six additional hands, and some cutlasses and pistols, for we felt certain that, should we fall in with Sandgate at sea, he would resist an attempt to rescue Emily from his power. By twelve o’clock at night our preparations were completed, and we determined, in the first place, to run across to Cherbourg, on the bare possibility of his having gone there, to complete his own supplies for a long voyage. At the same time, we dispatched little Ribbons in the “Dido,” to look into every port along the coast, and to wait for us at Penzance. Miss Granville, with much judgment, undertook to send to every place to the eastward, and to let Mr Bosley know, that he might take the proper measures to search for the daring scoundrel. I need not say that Harcourt was in a perfect fever of excitement, and we were little less calm, particularly O’Malley, whose indignation at Sandgate’s conduct knew no bounds, especially as he had acknowledged him as an acquaintance, and introduced him to Harcourt.
Little Ribbons showed that there was something good beneath the mass of absurdity, vanity, and vulgarity which enveloped him, by the eagerness with which he undertook the task we had assigned him; although he must have been pretty well convinced that he had no chance of winning the hand of the young lady, and we verily believed that, should he fall in with Sandgate, he would attack him, even with the fearful odds he would have against him. The weather was clear, and the stars and moon shone bright from the sky, as, with a fine fresh breeze from the eastward, and an ebb tide, we got under way and ran through the Needles. We then hauled up, and shaped a course for Cherbourg, for we had no other clew by which to steer than the vague report that the “Rover” had gone there. We thought also that Sandgate would very probably have selected that place, as being the nearest French port to the English coast, and one into which he might at all times run, and from which he might as easily escape. For the sake of his victim he would probably go there, in the hopes that she might agree to the object, whatever it might be, which had induced him to venture on the atrocious exploit of carrying her off. We had understood that she was an almost portionless girl, so that her fortune could not have been the temptation: in fact, we were completely in the dark, and it was a subject too delicate and painful to discuss.
The wind held fair, and at daybreak we were running across the Channel at the rate of eight knots an hour. Just before sunrise, when the horizon is often the clearest, I went aloft to discover if any vessels coming from the direction we were steering for were in sight, to give me any information for the chase, but not a sail was visible anywhere ahead of us, though several were seen off island. For the next three or four hours not a cutter was seen, though many square-rigged vessels were standing down Channel. Almost worn out with mental and physical exertion, Harcourt threw himself into his berth, while I took charge of the deck, and promised to have him called should there be any vessel in sight either like the chase or from which we might gain any information about her. He had not been asleep an hour, when he heard a hail, and jumping on deck, just as O’Malley was coming to call him, he found that we were hove-to close to a revenue-cutter, and that I had ordered a boat to be lowered ready to go on board her. He jumped in with me, and in another minute we were on the deck of the cutter. Her commander was excessively courteous, and ready to do every thing we might propose to overhaul the “Rover.” From him I found that the information I had gained about Sandgate was correct; and he told us that, according to his orders, he had followed the “Rover” at a distance, so as not to excite suspicion, and that he had seen her yesterday afternoon enter Cherbourg Harbour, where, supposing she would remain for some time, he had again stood off during the night.
“Then to a certainty she is still there!” exclaimed Harcourt, in a tone which somewhat surprised the officer.
The plan he instantly formed was to run in directly it was dusk, while the cutter remained in the offing, and to get alongside the “Rover” before Sandgate could have time to carry Miss Manners on shore. We thus should not lose much time, for the wind had fallen considerably, and we could scarcely expect to reach the mouth of the harbour before dark. The best formed plans are, however, liable to failure, particularly at sea; and as we got well in with the land, just put off Point Querqueville, it fell almost calm. There was still, however, a light air at times, which sent the cutter through the water, so that by degrees we drew in with the shore. We must have been for some time visible from the heights before it grew dark. The flood-tide was now sweeping us up to the eastward, and before we could get through the western passage we were carried past the breakwater. The large fires lighted by the workmen engaged on that stupendous work dazzled our eyes so much, that we were almost prevented from seeing the entrance, and they totally disabled us from watching the western passage. At last, however, the wind freshened up, and we ran inside the breakwater. The moon had by this time risen, and we could see across that fine sheet of water, which, in extent and the shelter it affords to a fleet, rivals Plymouth Sound. Harcourt’s impatience was excessive. We did not anchor; but as there was a light wind we kept cruising about among the men-of-war and large steamers lying there, in the hopes of finding the “Rover” brought up among them. In vain, however, did we search; she was nowhere to be seen. At last we determined to go on shore, and endeavour to learn whether the “Rover” had been there at all. Pulling up between two fine stone piers, we landed at the end of the inner harbour, and repaired at once to the house of Monsieur M – , who obligingly assisted us in making the inquiries I desired. After some time we met a person who asserted that he had observed the “Rover” at anchor that very evening.
“Even with this light you can see her from the end of the pier,” he observed; “come, I will show you where she is.”
We hurried to the spot, but the space where she had been was vacant. That she had not entered the inner harbour, Monsieur M – was certain, as she could not have come without his knowledge. Baffled, but still determined to continue the pursuit, we returned on board; and I was convinced that we had been seen from the shore before dark, and that Sandgate, suspecting we had come in quest of him, had slipped out by the western entrance while we were still outside the breakwater.
On making inquiries among other vessels anchored near where the “Rover” had lain, we found that, as we suspected, a vessel answering her description had got under way at the very time we supposed, and had stood off to the westward. After holding another consultation, we came to the conclusion that Sandgate would certainly avoid the open sea, and keep along the French coast, and we thought it probable would make for Jersey or Guernsey. At all events, thither we determined to run. Again we were under sail, and by the time we got clear of the harbour the wind had shifted round to the westward of north, and as the ebb had then made, we suspected Sandgate would take advantage of the tide, and run through the Race of Alderney. We calculated, however, that by the time we could reach it, we should have the full force of that rapid current in our favour, whereas he would only have the commencement of it. No one on board turned in, for the weather was too threatening, the passage we were about to attempt too dangerous, and the time too exciting, to allow us to think of sleep.
As we brought the bright light of Cape La Hogue a little before the larboard beam, the wind increased considerably, and we began to feel the short, broken sea of the Race. Every moment it increased; rapidly the water rose and fell in white-topped pyramids, leaping high above our bulwarks, and threatening to tumble on board and overwhelm us with its weight. The hatches were battened down and every thing well secured on deck; and well it was so, for sea after sea came leaping over the side, now on the quarter, then over the bows, and now again amidships. It was impossible to say where it would strike the vessel, for not the best steering could avoid it; yet on we flew with the fast rising breeze, rolling and pitching and tumbling, the water foaming and roaring, and literally drenching us with spray even when we avoided the heavier seas. The moon, too, which shone forth on the wild tumult of waters, rather increased the awfulness of the scene, by exhibiting to us the dangers which surrounded us on every side; yet so clear were the lights, both of La Hogue on the left and the Casquets on the right, that we had no difficulty in steering our course. The dark outline of the small island of Sark at last appeared in sight on the starboard beam, and in order to avoid the wild shoal of the Dirouilles Rocks, towards which the early flood sets, we hauled up more to the westward.
Still urged onward by the terrific force of the tide, we continued plunging through the mad waters, till daybreak showed us the Island of Jersey right ahead, and Guernsey on our weather beam. So strong was the current, however, that we had drifted considerably to the east, and in the grey light of the morning, not a cable’s length from us, appeared the dark heads of the Dirouilles, while on the starboard hand the sea, in masses of foam, was breaking over the equally terrific rocks of the Paternosters. The wind had now got so far to the westward, and the tide set so strong against us, that finding we were drifting bodily to leeward, we ran close in-shore, and dropped our anchor in a romantic little cove called Bouley Bay, on the north-east coast of Jersey. There was a narrow sandy beach, on which a few boats were drawn up, and a narrow ravine leading down to it, while on either side lofty cliffs towered high above our heads. On the side of the ravine was situated a small hotel, the master of which came off to us as soon as he saw us standing into the bay.
To the first question I put to him, as to whether he had seen any vessel off the coast that morning, he told us that at break of day he had been to the top of the cliffs, and had observed a cutter standing between the Paternosters and the land, and that he thought it probable she would be able to double Cape Grosnez before the tide made against her, in which case she would have little difficulty in getting round to St. Helier’s, if she happened to be bound there.
“If she is, we shall catch her to a certainty,” exclaimed O’Malley; and he forthwith volunteered to go across the island to try what he could do; and I proposed accompanying him, as I thought I might be of assistance in getting hold of Sandgate. Of course Harcourt gladly assented to our offer, although he determined himself to remain in the vessel.
I have not described Harcourt’s feelings all this time; – his hopes and fears, his eager excitement, as he thought the “Rover” was within his reach – his dread lest his Emily should have suffered injury or alarm – they were too intense for utterance.
As soon as the “Amethyst” had made sail, O’Malley and I started away across the little island as fast as our legs could carry us. We should have hired horses or a carriage, but none were to be procured at the quiet little spot where we landed, so we resolved to trust to our own feet, of which we had by no means lost the use, as the way we made them move over the ground gave full evidence. As soon as we reached St. Helier’s, we hurried down to the pier, when, to our infinite satisfaction, we beheld the “Rover” at anchor in the outer roads. We immediately hurried off to the authorities to give information, and to procure assistance to rescue Miss Manners. On our way we suddenly came upon the villain of whom we were in search, – Sandgate himself. Something made him turn round, and he caught sight of us. Without a moment’s hesitation he darted off towards the quay, where a boat was in waiting, and jumping into her, pulled towards the cutter. He had every reason to fear, we learned; for on his appearance in the morning he had been narrowly watched by the revenue officers, who suspected that some smuggling business had attracted him to the island. Such in fact was the case, as he had gone there to settle with his agents, and to procure certain stores before he commenced the long voyage he contemplated, little thinking that we should so soon have been able to track him thither. Before we had been able to engage a boat he had got on board, and the “Rover” was under way for the westward. I have an idea that some of the boatmen were in league with him. At all events, they seemed to think that it was their business to impede us as much as possible, and to do their best to help the hunted fox to escape. Such a feeling is very general among that class. The more eagerness and impatience we exhibited, the more difficulties they threw in our way; and it was not till the “Rover” was well clear of the harbour, and pursuit hopeless, that we could obtain a boat. We got one at last, and jumping into it, asked the men to pull away out of the harbour. Much to their vexation and to our satisfaction, we in a short time caught sight of our friend’s cutter. She had just got off Elizabeth Castle, which stands on a rocky point, isolated at high water from the mainland. She hove-to, and in a few minutes we jumped on board, and gave Harcourt the information we had obtained on shore, and pointed out in the distance a sail which we had little doubt was the “Rover.”
Harcourt then told us that after we had started overland, he had remained two hours at anchor, and then shipping an old pilot, in a Welsh wig, who only spoke Jersey French – the oddest patois he ever heard – he got under way for St. Helier’s. The “Amethyst” beat along that rocky and lofty coast, inside the Paternosters, till she rounded Cape Grosnez – which, as she had had a fresh breeze, she had done without much difficulty. She was then kept away, passing the rugged and threatening rocks of the Corbière, rounding which with a flowing sheet, she was headed in among an archipelago of hidden dangers towards the town of St. Helier’s. As they were passing the Corbière, Harcourt observed a cutter standing away to the westward, as if she had come out of St. Aubin’s Bay. He pointed her out to Griffiths, but she was too far off to distinguish what she was, and he was unwilling to make chase till we had ascertained whether Sandgate had been there. He accordingly stood on, eager to receive our report.
