Part 25 (1/2)

”I am sorry that you have been put to so much inconvenience,” Colonel John answered civilly.

The words, the tone, might have rea.s.sured him, if he had not suspected a devilish irony. Even when Colonel John proceeded to direct one of the men to open a porthole and admit more air, he derived no comfort from the attention. But steady! Colonel John was speaking again.

”You, too, gentlemen,” he said, addressing Cammock and the Bishop, ”I am sorry that I have been forced to put you to so much discomfort. But I saw no other way of effecting my purpose. And,” he went on with a smile, ”if you ask my warranty for acting as I have acted----”

”I do!” the Bishop said between his teeth. The Admiral said nothing, but breathed hard.

”Then I can only vouch,” the Colonel answered, ”the authority by virtue of which you seized me yesterday. I give you credit, reverend father, and you, Admiral, for a belief that in acting as you did you were doing your duty; that in creating a rising here you were serving a cause which you think worthy of sacrifice--the sacrifice of others as well as of yourselves. But I tell, you, as frankly, I feel it my duty to thwart that purpose and prevent that rising; and for the moment fortune is with me. The game, gentlemen, is for the present in my hand; the move is mine. Now I need hardly say,” Colonel John continued, with an appearance almost of _bonhomie_, ”that I do not wish to proceed to extremities, or to go farther than is necessary to secure my purpose.

We might set sail for the nearest garrison port, and I might hand you over to the English authorities, a.s.sured that they would pay such a reward as would compensate the s.h.i.+pmaster. But far be it from me to do that! I would have no man's blood on my hands. And though I say at once I would not shrink, were there no other way of saving innocent lives, from sending you to the scaffold----”

”A thousand thanks to you!” the Bishop said. But, brave man as he was, the irony in his voice masked relief; and not then, but a moment later, he pa.s.sed his handkerchief across his brow. Cammock said nothing, but the angry, bloodshot eyes which he fixed on the Colonel lost a little of their ferocity.

”I say, I would not shrink from doing that,” Colonel John continued mildly, ”were it necessary. Fortunately for us all, it is not necessary. Still I must provide against your immediate return, against immediate action on your part. I must see that the movement which will die in your absence is not revived by any word from you, or by tidings of you! To that end, gentlemen, I must put you to the inconvenience of a prolonged sea-voyage.”

”If I could speak with you in private?” the Bishop said.

”You will have every opportunity,” Colonel John answered, smiling, ”of speaking to Captain Augustin in private.”

”Still, sir, if I could see you alone I think I could convince you----”

”You shall have every opportunity of convincing Captain Augustin,”

Colonel John returned, smiling more broadly, ”and of convincing him by the same means which I venture to think, reverend sir, you would employ with me. To be plain, he will take you to sea for a certain period, and at the end of that time, if your arguments are sufficiently weighty, he will land you at a convenient harbour on the French sh.o.r.e. He will be at the loss of his cargo, and that loss I fear you will have to make good. Something, too, he may charge by way of interest, and for your pa.s.sage.” By this time the sailors were on the broad grin. ”A trifle, perhaps, for landing dues. But I have spoken with him to be moderate, and I doubt not that within a few weeks you, Admiral Cammock, will be with your command, and the reverend father will be pursuing his calling in another place.”

For a moment there was silence, save for a t.i.tter from the group of seamen. Then Cammock laughed--a curt, barking laugh. ”A bite!” he said.

”A d----d bite! If I can ever repay it, sir, I will! Be sure of that!”

Colonel John bowed courteously.

The Bishop took it otherwise. The veins on his forehead swelled, and he had much ado to control himself. The truth was, he feared ridicule more than he feared danger, perhaps more than he feared death; and such an end to such an enterprise was hard to bear. To have set forth to raise the south of Ireland, to have undertaken a diversion that would never be forgotten, that, on the contrary, would be marked by historians as a main factor in the restoration of the house of Stuart--to have embarked on such an enterprise and to be deported like any troublesome villager delivered to the pressgang for his hamlet's good! To end thus! It was too much.

”Is there no alternative?” he asked, barely able to speak for the chagrin that took him by the throat.

”One, if you prefer it,” Colonel Sullivan answered suavely. ”You can take your chance with the English authorities. For myself, I lean to the course I have suggested.”

”If money were paid down--now? Now, sir?”

”It would not avail.”

”Much money?”

”No.”

The Bishop glared at him for a few seconds. Then his face relaxed, his eyes grew mild, his chin sank on his breast. His fingers drummed on the table. ”His will be done!” he said--”His will be done! I was not worthy.”

His surrender seemed to sting Cammock. Perhaps in the course of their joint adventures he had come to know and to respect his companion, and felt more for him than for himself.

”If I had you on my quarter-deck for only half an hour,” he growled, ”I would learn who was the better man! Ah, my man, I would!”

”The doubt flatters me,” Colonel John answered, viewing them both with great respect; for he saw that, bad or good, they were men. Then, ”That being settled,” he continued, ”I shall ask you, gentlemen, to go on deck for a few moments, that I may say a word to my kinsman.”