Part 30 (1/2)

Less for his own sake than his mother's--who had none but him to help her--Scudamore dreaded especially that cla.s.s of disease which is now called ”zymotic.” His father, an eminent physician, had observed and had written a short work to establish that certain families and types of const.i.tution lie almost at the mercy of such contagion, and find no mercy from it. And among those families was his own. ”Fly, my boy, fly,”

he had often said to Blyth, ”if you ever come near such subjects.”

”Captain, I will fetch them,” continued Mr. Polwhele, looking grave at his hesitation. ”By good rights they ought to be smoked, I dare say, though I don't hold much with such stuff myself. And the doctor keeps doing a heap of herbs hot. You can see him, if you just come down these few steps. Perhaps you wouldn't mind looking into the hold, to find something to suit your judgment--quality combined with low figures there--while I go into the infected den, as the cleverest of my chaps calls it. Why, it makes me laugh! I've been in and out, with this stand-up coat on, fifty times, and you can't smell a flue of it, though wonderful strong down there.”

Scudamore shuddered, and drew back a little, and then stole a glance round the corner. He saw a thick smoke, and a figure prostrate, and another tied up in a long white robe, waving a pan of burning stuff in one hand and a bottle in the other, and plainly conjuring Polwhele to keep off. Then the latter returned, quite complacently.

”Can't find all of them,” he said, presenting a pile of papers big enough to taint Sahara. ”That doctor goes on as bad as opening a coffin.

Says he understands it, and I don't. The old figure-head! What does he know about it?”

”Much more than you do, perhaps,” replied Blyth, standing up for the profession, as he was bound to do. ”Perhaps we had better look at these on deck, if you will bring up your lantern.”

”But, Captain, you will have a look at our hold, and make us a bid--we need not take it, any more than you need to double it--for as prime a lot of cheese, and sides of bacon--”

”If your papers are correct, it will not be my duty to meddle with your cargo. But what are you doing the wrong side of our fleet?”

”Why, that was a bad job. There's no fair trade now, no sort of dealing on the square nohow. We run all this risk of being caught by c.r.a.ppos on purpose to supply British s.h.i.+p Gorgeous, soweastern station; and blow me tight if I couldn't swear she had been supplied chock-full by a c.r.a.ppo!

Only took ten cheeses and fifteen sides of bacon, though she never knew nought of our black fever case! But, Captain, sit down here, and overhaul our flimsies. Not like rags, you know; don't hold plague much.”

The young lieutenant compelled himself to discharge his duty of inspection behind a combing, where the wind was broken; but even so he took good care to keep on the weather side of the doc.u.ments; and the dates perhaps flew away to leeward. ”They seem all right,” he said, ”but one thing will save any further trouble to both of us. You belong to Springhaven. I know most people there. Have you any Springhaven hands on board?”

”I should think so. Send Tugwell aft; pa.s.s the word for Dan Tugwell.

Captain, there's a family of that name there--settled as long as we have been at Mevagissey. Ah, that sort of thing is a credit to the place, and the people too, in my opinion.”

Dan Tugwell came slowly, and with a heavy step, looking quite unlike the spruce young fisherman whom Scudamore had noticed as first and smartest in the rescue of the stranded Blonde. But he could not doubt that this was Dan, the Dan of happier times and thoughts; in whom, without using his mind about it, he had felt some likeness to himself. It was not in his power to glance sharply, because his eyes were kindly open to all the little incidents of mankind, but he managed to let Dan know that duty compelled him to be particular. Dan Tugwell touched the slouched hat upon his head, and stood waiting to know what he was wanted for.

”Daniel,” said Scudamore, who could not speak condescendingly to any one, even from the official point of view, because he felt that every honest man was his equal, ”are you here of your own accord, as one of the crew of this schooner?”

Dan Tugwell had a hazy sense of being put upon an untrue balance. Not by this kind gentleman's words, but through his own proceedings. In his honest mind he longed to say: ”I fear I have been bamboozled. I have cast my lot in with these fellows through pa.s.sion, and in hasty ignorance. How I should like to go with you, and fight the French, instead of getting mixed up with a lot of things I can't make out!”

But his equally honest heart said to him: ”You have been well treated.

You are well paid. You s.h.i.+pped of your own accord. You have no right to peach, even if you had anything to peach of; and all you have seen is some queer trading. None but a sneak would turn against his s.h.i.+pmates and his s.h.i.+p, when overhauled by the Royal Navy.”

Betwixt the two voices, Dan said nothing, but looked at the lieutenant with that gaze which the receiver takes to mean doubt of his meaning, while the doubt more often is--what to do with it.

”Are you here of your own accord? Do you belong to this schooner of your own accord? Are you one of this crew, of your own free-will?”

Scudamore rang the changes on his simple question, as he had often been obliged to do in the Grammar-school at Stonnington, with the slow-witted boys, who could not, or would not, know the top from the bottom of a sign-post. ”Do you eat with your eyes?” he had asked them sometimes; and they had put their thumbs into their mouths to enquire.

”S'pose I am,” said Dan at last, a.s.suming stupidity, to cover hesitation; ”yes, sir, I come aboard of my own free-will.”

”Very well. Then I am glad to find you comfortable. I shall see your father next week, perhaps. Shall I give him any message for you?”

”No, sir! For G.o.d's sake, don't let him know a word about where you have seen me. I came away all of a heap, and I don't want one of them to bother about me.”

”As you wish, Dan. I shall not say a word about you, until you return with your earnings. But if you found the fis.h.i.+ng business dull, surely you might have come to us, Dan. Any volunteers here for His Majesty's service?” Scudamore raised his voice, with the usual question. ”Good pay, good victuals, fine promotion, and prize-money, with the glory of fighting for their native country, and provision for life if disabled!”

Not a man came forward, though one man longed to do so; but his sense of honour, whether true or false, forbade him. Dan Tugwell went heavily back to his work, trying to be certain that it was his duty. But sad doubts arose as he watched the brave boat, lifting over the waves in the moonlight, with loyal arms tugging towards a loyal British s.h.i.+p; and he felt that he had thrown away his last chance.

CHAPTER XL