Part 20 (1/2)
The master knew Hugh Wynne well, and after a pause said grimly: ”Very good. It is out of the frying-pan into the fire.” He hated it, but there was the order, and obedience to those over him and from those under him was part of his sailor creed.
In four days, about dawn, delayed by the slower s.h.i.+p, they were off the port of St. Pierre. The harbor was empty, and there was no blockade as yet.
”And now,” said the captain, ”what to do? You are the master, it seems.
Run in, I suppose?”
”No, wait a little, Captain. If, when I say what I want done, it seems to you unreasonable, I shall give it up. Get a bit nearer; beat about; hoist our own flag. They will want to understand, and will send a boat out. Then we shall see.”
”I can do that, but every hour is full of risk.” Still he obeyed, beginning to comprehend his supercargo and to like the audacity of the game.
Near to six o'clock the bait was taken. A boat put out and drew near with caution. The captain began to enjoy it. ”A nibble,” he said.
”Give me a boat,” said De Courval. ”They will not come nearer. There are but five men. I must risk it. Let the men go armed.” In ten minutes he was beside the Frenchmen, and seeing a young man in uniform at the tiller, he said in French: ”I am from that brig. She is loaded with provisions for this port or San Domingo, late from the States.”
”Very well. You are welcome. Run in. The vicomte will take all, and pay well. _Foi d'honneur_, monsieur; it is all as I say. You are French?”
”Yes; an _emigre_.”
”We like not that, but I will go on board and talk it over.”
When on the _Marie_ they went to the cabin with the captains of the two American s.h.i.+ps. ”And now let us talk,” said De Courval. ”Who commands here for the republic?”
”Citizen Rochambeau; a good Jacobin, too.”
De Courval was startled. ”A cousin of my mother--the vicomte--a Jacobin!”
”Is monsieur for our side?” asked the officer.
”No; I am for the king.”
”King, monsieur! The king was guillotined on January 21.”
”_Mon Dieu!_”
”May I ask your name, monsieur?”
”I am the Vicomte de Courval, at your service.”
”By St. Denis! I know; you are of Normandy, of the religion, like ourselves. I am the Comte de Lourmel.”
”And with the Jacobins?”
”Yes. I have an eminent affection for my head. When I can, my brother and I will get away.”
”Then we may talk plainly as two gentlemen.”
”a.s.suredly.”
”I do not trust that vicomte of yours--a far-away cousin of my mother, I regret to say.”
”Nor would I trust him. He wished the town illuminated on account of the king's death.”