Mary Anerley, Richard Doddridge Blackmore [the false prince .txt] 📗

soon be back again."

While Mr. Mordacks was loading the children with all that they made soft mouths at, he observed for the second time three men who appeared to be taking much interest in his doings. They had sauntered aloof while he called at the cottage, as if they had something to say to him, but would keep it until he had finished there. But they did not come up to him as he expected; and when he had seen the small Carroways home, he rode up to ask what they wanted with him. "Nothing, only this, sir," the shortest of them answered, while the others pretended not to hear; "we was told that yon was Smuggler's house, and we thought that your Honor was the famous Captain Lyth."

"If I ever want a man," said the general factor, "to tell a lie with a perfect face, I shall come here and look for you, my friend." The man looked at him, and smiled, and nodded, as much as to say, "You might get it done worse," and then carelessly followed his comrades toward the sea. And Mr. Mordacks, riding off with equal jauntiness, cocked his hat, and stared at the Priory Church as if he had never seen any such building before.

"I begin to have a very strong suspicion," he said to himself as he put his horse along, "that this is the place where the main attack will be. Signs of a well-suppressed activity are manifest to an experienced eye like mine. All the grocers, the bakers, the candlestick-makers, and the women, who always precede the men, are mightily gathered together. And the men are holding counsel in a milder way. They have got three jugs at the old boat-house for the benefit of holloaing in the open air. Moreover, the lane inland is scored with a regular market-day of wheels, and there is no market this side of the old town. Carroway, vigilant captain of men, why have you forsaken your domestic hearth? Is it through jealousy of Nettlebones, and a stern resolve to be ahead of him? Robin, my Robin, is a genius in tactics, a very bright Napoleon of free trade. He penetrates the counsels, or, what is more, the feelings, of those who camp against him. He means to land this great emprise at Captain Carroway's threshold. True justice on the man for sleeping out of his own bed so long! But instead of bowing to the blow, he would turn a downright maniac, according to all I hear of him. Well, it is no concern of mine, so long as nobody is killed, which everybody makes such a fuss about."


CHAPTER XXXII


CORDIAL ENJOYMENT

The poise of this great enterprise was hanging largely in the sky, from which come all things, and to which resolved they are referred again. The sky, to hold an equal balance, or to decline all troublesome responsibility about it, went away, or (to put it more politely) retired from the scene. Even as nine men out of ten, when a handsome fight is toward, would rather have no opinion on the merits, but abide in their breeches, and there keep their hands till the fist of the victor is opened, so at this period the upper firmament nodded a strict neutrality. And yet, on the whole, it must have indulged a sneaking proclivity toward free trade; otherwise, why should it have been as follows?

November now was far advanced; and none but sanguine Britons hoped, at least in this part of the world, to know (except from memory and predictions of the almanac) whether the sun were round or square, until next Easter-day should come. It was not quite impossible that he might appear at Candlemas, when he is supposed to give a dance, though hitherto a strictly private one; but even so, this premature frisk of his were undesirable, if faith in ancient rhyme be any. But putting him out of the question, as he had already put himself, the things that were below him, and, from length of practice, manage well to shape their course without him, were moving now and managing themselves with moderation.

The tone of the clouds was very mild, and so was the color of the sea. A comely fog involved the day, and a decent mist restrained the night from ostentatious waste of stars. It was not such very bad weather; but a captious man might find fault with it, and only a thoroughly cheerful one could enlarge upon its merits. Plainly enough these might be found by anybody having any core of rest inside him, or any gift of turning over upon a rigidly neutral side, and considerably outgazing the color of his eyes.

Commander Nettlebones was not of poetic, philosophic, or vague mind. "What a ----- fog!" he exclaimed in the morning; and he used the same words in the afternoon, through a speaking-trumpet, as the two other cutters ranged up within hail. This they did very carefully, at the appointed rendezvous, toward the fall of the afternoon, and hauled their wind under easy sail, shivering in the southwestern breeze.

"Not half so bad as it was," returned Bowler, being of a cheerful mind. "It is lifting every minute, sir. Have you had sight of anything?"

"Not a blessed stick, except a fishing-boat. What makes you ask, lieutenant?"

"Why, sir, as we rounded in, it lifted for a moment, and I saw a craft some two leagues out, standing straight in for us."

"The devil you did! What was she like? and where away, lieutenant?"

"A heavy lugger, under all sail, about E.N.E, as near as may be. She is standing for Robin Hood's Bay, I believe. In an hour's time she will be upon us, if the weather keeps so thick."

"She may have seen you, and sheered off. Stand straight for her, as nigh as you can guess. The fog is lifting, as you say. If you sight her, signal instantly. Lieutenant Donovan, have you heard Bowler's news?"

"Sure an' if it wasn't for the fog, I would. Every word of it come to me, as clear as seeing."

"Very well. Carry on a little to the south, half a league or so, and then stand out, but keep within sound of signal. I shall bear up presently. It is clearing every minute, and we must nab them."

The fog began to rise in loops and alleys, with the upward pressure of the evening breeze, which freshened from the land in lines and patches, according to the run of cliff. Here the water darkened with the ruffle of the wind, and there it lay quiet, with a glassy shine, or gentle shadows of variety. Soon the three cruisers saw one another clearly; and then they all sighted an approaching sail.

This was a full-bowed vessel, of quaint rig, heavy sheer, and extraordinary build--a foreigner clearly, and an ancient one. She differed from a lugger as widely as a lugger differs from a schooner, and her broad spread of canvas combined the features of square and of fore-and-aft tackle. But whatever her build or rig might be, she was going through the water at a strapping pace, heavily laden as she was, with her long yards creaking, and her broad frame croaking, and her deep bows driving up the fountains of the sea. Her enormous mainsail upon the mizzenmast--or mainmast, for she only carried two--was hung obliquely, yet not as a lugger's, slung at one-third of its length, but bent to a long yard hanging fore and aft, with a long fore-end sloping down to midship. This great sail gave her vast power, when close hauled; and she carried a square sail on the foremast, and a square sail on either topmast.

"Lord, have mercy! She could run us all down if she tried!" exclaimed Commander Nettlebones; "and what are my pop-guns against such beam?"

For a while the bilander seemed to mean to try it, for she carried on toward the central cruiser as if she had not seen one of them. Then, beautifully handled, she brought to, and was scudding before the wind in another minute, leading them all a brave stern-chase out to sea.

"It must be that dare-devil Lyth himself," Nettlebones said, as the Swordfish strained, with all canvas set, but no gain made; "no other fellow in all the world would dare to beard us in this style. I'd lay ten guineas that Donovan's guns won't go off, if he tries them. Ah, I thought so--a fizz, and a stink--trust an Irishman."

For this gallant lieutenant, slanting toward the bows of the flying bilander, which he had no hope of fore-reaching, trained his long swivel-gun upon her, and let go--or rather tried to let go--at her. But his powder was wet, or else there was some stoppage; for the only result was a spurt of smoke inward, and a powdery eruption on his own red cheeks.

"I wish I could have heard him swear," grumbled Nettlebones; "that would have been worth something. But Bowler is further out. Bowler will cross her bows, and he is not a fool. Don't be in a hurry, my fine Bob Lyth. You are not clear yet, though you crack on like a trooper. Well done, Bowler, you have headed him! By Jove, I don't understand these tactics. Stand by there! She is running back again."

To the great amazement of all on board the cruisers, except perhaps one or two, the great Dutch vessel, which might haply have escaped by standing on her present course, spun round like a top, and bore in again among her three pursuers. She had the heels of all of them before the wind, and might have run down any intercepter, but seemed not to know it, or to lose all nerve. "Thank the Lord in heaven, all rogues are fools! She may double as she will, but she is ours now. Signal Albatross and Kestrel to stand in."

In a few minutes all four were standing for the bay; the Dutch vessel leading with all sail set, the cruisers following warily, and spreading, to head her from the north or south. It was plain that they had her well in the toils; she must either surrender or run ashore; close hauled as she was, she could not run them down, even if she would dream of such an outrage.

So far from showing any sign of rudeness was the smuggling vessel, that she would not even plead want of light as excuse for want of courtesy. For running past the royal cutters, who took much longer to come about, she saluted each of them with deep respect for the swallowtail of his Majesty. And then she bore on, like the admiral's ship, with signal for all to follow her.

"Such cursed impudence never did I see," cried every one of the revenue skippers, as they all were compelled to obey her. "Surrender she must, or else run upon the rocks. Does the fool know what he is driving at?"

The fool, who was Master James Brown of Grimsby, knew very well what he was about. Every shoal, and sounding, and rocky gut, was thoroughly familiar to him, and the spread of faint light on the waves and alongshore told him all his bearings. The loud cackle of laughter, which Grimsby men (at the cost of the rest of the world) enjoy, was carried by the wind to the ears of Nettlebones.

The latter set fast his teeth, and ground them; for now in the rising of the large full moon he perceived that the beach of the cove was black with figures gathering rapidly. "I see