CHAPTER XXV

THREE PRESSED MEN

While the occupants of the parlour were sipping punch those of the tap-room had gone systematically through the different stages of inebriety—the friendly, the argumentative, the captious, the communicative, the sentimental, the quarrelsome, the maudlin-affectionate, and the extremely drunk. By nightfall, neither Smoke-Jack, Bottle-Jack, nor Slap-Jack could handle a clay-pipe without breaking it, nor fix their eyes steadily on the candle for five consecutive moments. Notwithstanding, however, the many conflicting opinions that had been broached during their sitting, there were certain points on which they agreed enthusiastically—that they were the three finest fellows under the sun, that there was no calling like seamanship, no element like salt water, and no craft in which any one of them had yet sailed so lively in a sea-way as this, which seemed now to roll and pitch and stagger beneath their besotted senses. With a confirmed impression, varied only by each man’s own experience, that they were weathering a gale under considerable difficulties, in a low latitude, and that it was their watch on deck, though they kept it somewhat unaccountably below, all three had gone through the abortive ceremony they called “pricking for the softest plank,” had pulled their rough sea-coats over their heads, and lain down on the floor among the spittoons, to sleep out the dreamless sleep of intoxication.

Long before midnight, Butter-faced Bob, looking in, well satisfied, beheld his customers of the afternoon now transformed into actual goods and chattels, bales of bone and sinew and courage, that he could sell, literally by weight, at an enormous price, and for ready money. While he turned the light of his candle from one sleeper to another, he was running over a mental sum comprising all the elementary rules of arithmetic. He added the several prices of the recumbent articles in guineas. He subtracted the few shillings’-worth of liquor they had consumed. He multiplied by five the hush-money he expected, over and above, from the purchaser, and finally, he divided the total, in anticipation, between himself, his wife, the tax-gatherer, and the most pressing of his creditors.

When he had finished these calculations, he returned to the parlour, where Captain George sat brooding over the remains of his punch, the late enlisted recruit having retired to pack up his fiddle and the very small stock of clothes he possessed.

Their bargain was soon concluded, although there was some little difficulty about delivering the goods. Notwithstanding, perhaps in consequence of, the many cases of oppression that had stained the last half of the preceding century, a strong reaction had set in against anything in the shape of “kidnapping”; and a press-gang, even for a king’s ship, was not likely to meet with toleration in the streets of a seaport town. Moreover, suspicions had already been aroused as to the character of ‘The Bashful Maid.’ A stricter discipline seemed to be observed on board that wicked-looking craft than was customary even in the regular service, and this unusual rigour was accounted for by the lawless conduct of her “liberty-men” when they _did_ come ashore. Nobody knew better than her Captain that, under the present aspect of political affairs in London, it would be wise to avoid notice by the authorities. The only thing he dreaded on earth and sea was a vision, by which he was haunted daily, till he could get all his stores shipped. It represented a sloop-of-war detached from the neighbouring squadron in the Downs, coming round the Point, dropping her anchor in the harbour, and sending a lieutenant and boat’s crew on board to overhaul his papers, and, maybe, summarily prevent his beautiful craft from standing out to sea.

Neither was Butter-faced Bob rash or indiscreet where his own interests were affected. Using a metaphor he had picked up from his customers, it was his boast that he could “keep a bright look-out, and steer small” with the best of them; and he now impressed on Captain George, with great earnestness, the necessity of secrecy and caution in getting the three fresh hands down to the quay and tumbling them up the side of the brigantine.

Had the Captain known their inclinations, he might have made his own bargain, and saved three-fourths of the expense, but his landlord took care that in such cases the principals should never come together, telling the officers they could make what terms they chose when the men found themselves fairly trapped and powerless in blue water, while he kept the latter in a state of continuous inebriety so long as they dwelt in his house, which rendered them utterly reckless of everything but liquor and tobacco.

His shining face wore the well-satisfied expression of a man who has performed a good action, while he motioned with his thumb to the adjoining tap-room.

“I’ve a cart ready in the back yard,” said he, “and a few empty casks to tumble in along with our chaps. It will only look like the fresh water going aboard, so as you may weigh with the morning tide. Will they send a boat off if you show a light?”

Captain George nodded. The boatswain whom he had left in charge, and on whom he could rely, had directions for a certain code of signals, amongst which, the waving of a lantern thrice from the end of the quay was to be answered by a boat ashore.

“We’d best get them in at once, then,” said Bob, only anxious now to be rid of his guests. “I’ll go and put the horse to, and perhaps you and me and the French gentleman, as he seems a friend of yours, can manage it between us.”

Accordingly, Bob betook himself to the back yard and the stable, while Beaudésir was summoned to assist the process of embarkation. In ten minutes all was prepared, and it was only necessary to lift the three drunken tars into the carriage provided for them.

With the two elder and heavier men there was no difficulty. They grunted, indeed, impatiently, though without opening their eyes, and seemed to sleep as soundly, while being dragged along a dusty passage and hoisted into a narrow cart amongst empty water-casks, as if they took their rest habitually under such disadvantages; but Slap-Jack’s younger constitution had not been so completely overcome, and it was necessary to soothe him by a fiction which has possessed in all times an indescribable charm for the seafaring imagination.

Bob whispered impressively in his ear that he had been sent for, thus in the dead of night, by the Admiral’s daughter, who had conceived for him a fatal and consuming passion, having seen him in his “long togs” in the street. Muttering inarticulately about “Alice,” Slap-Jack at once abandoned himself to the illusion, and dropped off to sleep again, with delightful anticipations of the romantic fate in store for him.

As the wheels rumbled over the rough streets, through the rainy gusts and the dark night, followed by Captain George and Beaudésir, the latter could not but compare the vehicle to a dead-cart, carrying away its burden through some city stricken with the plague. This pleasing fancy he communicated to his comrade, who made the following inconsequent reply—

“I only hope the harbour-watch may be as drunk as they are. It’s our best chance to get them aboard without a row. There’s her light Eugène. If the sky would lift a little, you might make out her spars, the beauty! but I’m almost afraid now you’ll have to wait for dawn.”

The harbour-watch was drunk, or at least fast asleep in the sentry-box on wheels that afforded him shelter, and the sky did _not_ lift in the least degree; so very soon after the waving of the lantern a boat from ‘The Bashful Maid’ touched the stone steps of the quay, having been cunningly impelled thither by a screw-driving process, worked with one oar at the stern, and which made far less noise than the more powerful practice of pulling her with even strokes.

Two swarthy ill-looking fellows sat in the boat, and a scowl passed over their features when they saw their Captain’s attitude of precaution, with one hand on the pistol he wore at his belt. Perhaps they were disappointed not to be able to elude his vigilance, and have one more run on shore before they sailed. It was no use trying to “gammon the skipper,” though. They had discovered that already, and they lent their aid with a will, when they found it must be so, to place their future comrades in the same predicament as themselves.

The whole affair was managed so quietly that, even had the harbour-guard, a brandy-faced veteran of sixty, remained wide-awake and perfectly sober, he might have been excused for its escaping his vigilance. Bob himself, standing with his empty cart on the quay, could hardly hear the dip of the oars as his late guests were pulled cautiously away. He did not indeed remain there very long to listen. He had done with them one and all—for was not the score paid? and it behoved him to return home and prepare for fresh arrivals. He turned, therefore, with a well-satisfied glance towards the light in the foretop of the brigantine, and wished ‘The Bashful Maid’ a good voyage, while at the same moment Beaudésir stumbled awkwardly up her side. To the latter this was, indeed, a new and startling phase of life, but it was full of excitement, and consequently very much to his taste. Captain George, taking him below, and pointing out a couch in his cabin on which to pass the rest of the night, though he had seen a good deal of worse material for a privateer’s-man, or even a pirate, than this pale gentle young adventurer, late of the Grey Musketeers.

Covered by a boat-cloak, and accommodated with two or three cushions, Eugène’s bed was quite as comfortable as that which he occupied at the Fox and Fiddle. It was long past sunrise when he awoke, and realising his position he ran on deck with a landsman’s usual conviction that he was already miles out at sea. It was startling, and a little disappointing, to observe the quay, the straggling buildings of the town, the lighthouse, and other well-known objects within musket-shot, and to find that the brigantine, in spite of her lively motions, still rode at anchor, not half a cable’s length from a huge, smooth, red buoy, which was dancing and dipping in the morning sun as if it were alive. There was a fresh breeze off shore, and a curl on the green sparkling water that, far away down Channel, beyond the point, swelled into a thousand varying lines of white, while a schooner in the offing might be observed standing out to sea with a double reef in her topsails. One of the crew, sluicing the deck with a bucket of water, that eddied round Eugène’s feet, pointed her out to his mate with an oath, and the mate, a tall strong negro, grinning hideously, replied “Iss! very well!”

‘The Bashful Maid’ herself, rising buoyantly to each succeeding wave, ere with a dip and toss of her bows she sent the heavy spray-drops splashing over her like a seabird, seemed chafing with eagerness to be off. There was but little of the bustle and confusion on board usually produced by clearing out of port. The deck, though wet and slippery, was as clean as a dinner-plate, the yards were squared, the ropes coiled, new sails had been bent, and the last cask of fresh water was swinging over the hold: trim and taut, every spar and every sheet seemed to express “Outward bound,” not to mention a blue-Peter flying at the fore.

All this Eugène observing, began to suffer from an uncomfortable sensation in the pit of his stomach, which parched his mouth, depressed his spirits, and destroyed his appetite. He was not, however, so much affected by it but that he could take note of his fellow-voyagers, an occupation sufficiently interesting when he reflected on the probable result of their preparations. In his experience of life he had never yet seen such an assemblage. The crew had indeed been got together with considerable care, but with utter disregard to nationality or uniformity of any kind. The majority were Englishmen, but there were also Swedes, Dutch, French, Portuguese, a negro, and even a Spaniard on board. The brigantine was strongly manned for her size, and the hands, with scarcely an exception, were stout daring fellows, capable of any exploit and a good many enormities, but such as a bold commander, cool, judicious, and determined, might bring into a very efficient state of discipline. Eugène could not but remark, however, that on the face of each was expressed impatience of delay, and an ardent desire to be in blue water. The liberty to go on shore had been stopped, and indeed the pockets of these gentlemen-adventurers, as the humblest of them called themselves, were completely cleaned out. Obviously, therefore, it would be well to lose no time in refilling them.

Leaning over the side, lazily watching the lap and wash of the leaping water, Eugène was rapidly losing himself in his own thoughts, when, rousing up, he felt the Captain’s hand on his shoulder, and heard the Captain’s voice whisper in his ear:—

“Come below with me; I shall want your assistance by-and-by, and you have had no breakfast yet.”

His qualms took flight at the prospect of fresh excitement, though the offer of breakfast was received with little enthusiasm, and he followed the Captain into his comfortable and well-furnished cabin. Here he learned that, while he was sleeping, George had hailed a fishing-boat returning warily into harbour, and, under pretence of buying fresh fish, boarded her with a bottle or two of spirits and a roll of tobacco. In ten minutes he extracted all the fisherman had to tell, and discovered that a large King’s ship was cruising in the offing, watching, as his informant opined, the very port in which they lay. Under these circumstances, Captain George considered it would be prudent to wait till midnight, when they might run out of the harbour, with wind and tide in their favour, and so showing the man-of-war a clean pair of heels, be hull-down and out of sight before sunrise.

“There’s nothing that swims can touch her in squally weather like this,” continued the Captain, “if she can get an hour’s start; and I wouldn’t mind running under his very boltsprit, in the dark, if this wind holds. My chief difficulty is about the men. There will be black looks, and something very like mutiny, if I keep them twelve more hours in sight of the beer-shops without liberty for shore. Those drunken rascals too, that we hove aboard last night, will have come to themselves by that time, and we shall perhaps have some trouble in persuading them they are here of their own free will. You must help me, Eugène, all day. Between us we must watch the crew like a cat watches a mouse. Once we’re in blue water, you’ll have nothing to do but sit in my cabin and amuse yourself.”

The skipper understood the nature of those with whom he had to deal. When the men saw no disposition to get the anchor up, when noon passed and they went to dinner as usual with the brigantine’s head pointing steadily to windward, when another tide ebbed and flowed, but failed to waft them away from the temptations of port, they began to growl freely, without however proceeding to any overt acts of insubordination, and towards evening they became pacified with the anticipation of weighing anchor before the following day. The hours passed wearily to all on board, excepting perhaps the three Jacks, who, waking simultaneously at sunrise, turned round, perfectly satisfied, to go to sleep again, and so recovered complete possession of their faculties towards the dusk of the evening.

They had been stowed away on some spare bunting outside the door of the Captain’s cabin. Their conversation, therefore, though carried on in a low tone, was distinctly audible both to him and Beaudésir, as they sat waiting for midnight and the turn of the tide.

After a few expressions of astonishment, and vague inquiries how they got there, each sailor seemed to realise his position pretty clearly and without much dissatisfaction. Bottle-Jack shrewdly suspected he was once more at the old trade. Smoke-Jack was comforted by the prospect of refilling his empty pockets, and Slap-Jack, whilst vowing eternal fidelity to Alice, seemed impressed with the flattering notion that somehow his own attractions and the good taste of the Admiral’s daughter were at the bottom of it all.

The craft, they agreed, was a likely one, the fittings ship-shape Bristol-fashion, the cruise promised to be prosperous; but such an unheard-of solecism as to weigh without one more drinking bout in honour of the expedition, was not to be thought of; therefore Bottle-Jack opined it was indispensable they should immediately go ashore.

The others agreed without scruple. One difficulty alone presented itself: the quay stood a good quarter of a mile off, and even in harbour it was rather a stormy night for a swim. As Slap-Jack observed, “it couldn’t be done comfortable without a plank of some kind; but most like, if they waited till dark, they might make free with the skipper’s dingy hanging over the starn!”

“’Tis but totting up another figure or two on the score with old Shiney-face,” argued Smoke-Jack, who, considering his profession, was of a frugal turn of mind, and who little knew how completely the purchase-money of his own body and bones had wiped off the chalk behind the door. “Such a voyage as we’re a-goin’ to make will square longer accounts than ours, though I am uncommon dry, considerin’. Just one more spree on the quiet, you know, my sons, and back to duty again as steady as a sou’-wester. There’s no fear they’ll weigh without us, a-course?”

“A-course not,” grunted old Bottle-Jack, who could scarce have been half sober yet, to hazard such a suggestion. “The skipper is quite the gentleman, no doubt, and most like when he misses us he’ll send the ship’s pinnace ashore with his compliments.”

“Pinnace be blowed!” retorted Slap-Jack; “anyway you may be sure he won’t sail without the dingy;” and in this more reasonable conclusion the others could not but acquiesce.

With a smile on his face, the Captain listened to the further development of their plan. One by one they would creep aft without their shoes, unobserved by the anchor-watch, now sure to be on the forecastle (none of the Jacks had a clear idea of the craft in which they were plotting); if any one could put his hand on a bit of grease it would be useful to make the tackle work noiselessly. When they reached the stern, Slap-Jack should seat himself in the dingy, as being the lightest weight; the others would lower away, and as soon as she touched water, shin down after him, and shove off. There was no time to lose, best set about it at once.

Captain George whispered in his companion’s ear, “Take my hat and cloak, and go forward to the hold with a lantern in your hand. Make plenty of noise as you pass those lubbers, but do not let them see your face.”

Eugène obeyed, and Captain George, blowing out the lights, set himself to watch at the stern windows.