Read Ebook: The Ocean Cat's Paw: The Story of a Strange Cruise by Fenn George Manville Stacey W S Walter S Illustrator

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Ebook has 3117 lines and 106987 words, and 63 pages

This somehow set the boy thinking about the escape from accident when they came into port, and then of the encounter ashore, and he began talking.

"It's no use to go down below. It's so stuffy, and I want to chat. I say, captain, what do you think of that brig?"

"Very smartly built craft indeed, my lad--one as I should like to sail if I could do as I liked."

"Do as you liked?" asked Rodd.

"Yes; alter her rig--make a schooner of her. But as she is she's as pretty a vessel as I ever see--for a brig. Frenchmen don't often turn out a boat like that."

"What should you think she is?" asked Rodd. "A merchantman?"

"No, my lad; I should say she was something of a dispatch boat, though she aren't a man-of-war. I don't quite make her out. She's got a very smart crew, and I saw two of her officers go aboard in some sort of uniform, though it was too dark to quite make it out."

"But if she's a man-of-war she would carry guns, wouldn't she?" asked Rodd.

"Well, I don't think she's a man-of-war, my lad," replied the skipper; "but she do carry guns, and one of them's a big swivel I just saw amidships. But men-of-war, merchantmen, and coasters, we're all alike in a storm, and glad to get into shelter."

"Yes, it is a fine-looking brig. Is she likely to be a privateer?"

"Eh? What do you know about privateers?"

"Oh, not much," said Rodd. "But going about at Plymouth and talking to the sailors, of course I used to hear something about them."

"Well, yes, of course," said the skipper thoughtfully, as he too swept the drops from the front of his sou'-wester, and tried to pierce the falling rain. "She might be a French privateer out of work, as you may say, for their game's at an end now that the war's over. Yes, a very smart craft."

"But do you think she's here for any particular purpose?"

"Yes, my lad; a very particular purpose."

"Ah!" cried the boy rather excitedly. "What?"

"To take care of herself and keep in harbour till the weather turns right. Why? What were you thinking?"

"I was wondering why she came in so close after us, and then anchored where she is."

"Oh, I can tell you that," said the skipper, chuckling. "It was because she couldn't help herself."

"Then you don't think she was watching us?"

"No-o! What should she want to watch us for?"

"Why, to take us as a prize, seeing what a beautiful little schooner it is."

"Bah! She'd better not try," said the skipper grimly. "Why, what stuff have you got in your head, boy? We are not at war with France."

"No. But then, you see, my lad, even if you were right, that brig wouldn't have a chance."

"Why, suppose she waited till we had sailed, and followed till she thought it was a good opportunity, and then her captain led his men aboard and took her?"

"Oh, I see," said the skipper dryly. "Well, my lad, as I say, she wouldn't have a chance. First, because she couldn't catch us, for give me sea room I could sail right round her."

"Ah, but suppose it was a calm, and she sent her boats full of men on board to take us?"

"Well, what then?"

"What then? Why, wouldn't that be very awkward?" asked Rodd.

"Very, for them," said the skipper grimly. "What would my boys be about?"

"Why, they'd be taken prisoners."

"I should just like to see her try," said the skipper. "If the boats' crews of that brig were to get a lodgment aboard my craft, how long do you think it would take our lads to clear them off?"

"Oh, I am sure our crew would be very brave, but I should say that brig's got twice as many men as we have."

"What of that?" said the skipper contemptuously.

"Well, then," said Rodd argumentatively, "she's got her guns, and might sink us."

"And we've got our guns, and might sink her," growled the skipper. "Look here, my lad; why did I give my lads gun drill and cutlass and pike drill, while you and the doctor were taking in your tackle and bags of tricks?"

"Why, to defend the schooner against any savages who might attack us when we are off the West Coast or among the islands."

"Right, my lad. Well, as Pat would say, by the same token couldn't they just as well fight a pack of Frenchies as a tribe of niggers? Bah! You're all wrong. It's quite like enough that yon brig may have been fitted out for a privateer, though I rather think she wouldn't be fast enough. But that game's all over, and we are all going to be at peace now we have put Bony away like a wild beast in a cage and he can't do anybody any hurt. There, you needn't fidget yourself about that. All the same, I don't quite understand why a craft that isn't a man-of-war, but carries a long gun amidships and has officers in uniform aboard, should be taking refuge in this port. I dunno. She looks too smart and clean, but it might mean that she's going to the West Coast, blackbirding."

"Ha, ha, ha!" laughed Rodd. "Why, that's what you thought about us, Captain Chubb."

"So I did; so I did, my lad," said the skipper good-humouredly. "You see, I am like other men--think I am very wise, but I do stupid things sometimes. Well, I'll be safe this time, and say I don't know what she is, and I don't much care. But I am pretty sure that she aren't after us, and I dare say, if the truth's known, she don't think we are after her. There, squint out yonder to windward. That don't look like fine weather, does it?"

"No; worse than ever!" cried Rodd.

"That's so, my lad, and you may take this for certain; we shan't sail to-day, and you won't see another vessel put out to sea. Take my word for it."

"That I will, Captain Chubb!" cried the boy earnestly, and the skipper nodded his head so quickly that the water flew off in a shower.

But, as some wag once said, the wisest way is to wait till after something has happened before you begin to prophesy about it.

Captain Chubb had probably never heard about the wisdom of this proceeding in foretelling events, for it so happened that in spite of the storm increasing in violence for many hours, his words proved to be entirely wrong.

AN EXCITING TIME.

About mid-day there was a sudden lull. The wind blew nearly as hard as ever, but the clouds were broken up, allowing a few gleams of sunshine to pass through, and soon after the sky seemed to be completely swept; the streaming wharves and streets began to show patches of dry paving, and nearly every vessel near was hung with the men's oilskins, Rodd being one of the first to shed his awkward garments and come out looking more like himself.

There was such a transformation scene, and all looked so bright in the sunshine, that the boy took the first opportunity to ask the skipper what he thought of it now.

"Just the same as I did before, my lad," he replied bluntly. "Here, it's only mid-day, and mid-day aren't to-night, and to-night aren't to-morrow morning. Just you wait."

"Oh, I'll wait," said Rodd, "but I think we ought to start off as soon as we can, and get right away to sea."

"Do you?" said the captain gruffly. "Well, I don't."

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