Part 13 (1/2)
”Ha! ha! ha!” he chuckled, while, manacled though his wrists were, he drew his right forefinger rapidly across his throat, uttering, as he did so, these words, ”Your padre; ha! ha! dead--dead--dead.”
His listeners were horrified. What McBain's reply would have been none can say. It was not needed, for at that very moment, ere the exultant grin had vanished from the wretch's face, there sprang on deck from the companion a figure, tall and gaunt, clad from top to toe in skins. He knelt on the deck in front of the pirate, the better to confront him.
With forefinger raised, ”he held him with his glittering eye,” while he addressed him as follows:
”Look here, Mister Pirate, I was going to use strong language, but I won't, though I guess and calculate mild words are wasted on sich as you. The parson ain't dead; ne'er a hair on his reverend head. Ye thought I'd scupper him, didn't you, soon's the s.h.i.+p was taken? Ye thought this child was your slave, didn't ye? Ha! ha! though, he has rounded on ye at last, and if that bit of black rag weren't enough to hang you and your wretched crew of cutthroats, here in front o' ye kneels one witness o' your dirty deeds, and the other will be on deck in a minute in the person o' the parson you thought dead. How d'ye like it, eh?” and the speaker once more stood erect, and confronted our heroes.
”Seth!” they e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed, in one voice.
”Seth! by all that is marvellous!” said McBain, clutching the old man by the right hand, while Rory seized his left, and Allan and Ralph got hold of an arm each.
”Ah! gentlemen,” said honest Seth--and there was positively a tear in his eye as he spoke--”it's on occasions like these that one wishes he had four hands,--a hand for every friend. Yes, I reckon it is Seth himself, and nary a one else. You may well say wonders will never cease. You may well ask me how on earth I came here. It war Providence, gentlemen, and nuthin' else, that I knows on. It war Providence sent that cut-throat skipper to the land where you left me on the _s...o...b..rd_, though I didn't think so at the time, when they burned and pillaged my hut and killed poor old Plunkett, nor when they carried me a prisoner on board the _Maelsturm_. They meant to scupper old Seth.
They did talk o' bilin' his old bones in whale oil, but they soon found out he could heal a hole in a hide as well as make one, and so, gentlemen, I've been surgeon-in-chief to this craft for nine months and over. Yes, it war Providence and nuthin' else, and I knew it war as soon as I saw your s.h.i.+p heave in sight, the day they guessed they'd wreck ye. The parson's daughter, poor little Dunette, war on board then. I sent her to save ye; and when I heard your voice, Captain McBain, on the reef, I felt sure it war Providence then, and I kind o'
prayed in my rough way that He might spare ye. Shake hands, gentlemen, again. Bother these old eyes o' mine; they will keep watering.”
And Seth drew his sleeve rapidly across his face as he spoke.
Rory was a proud--boy, ahem! well, _man_, then, if you will have it so, when that same afternoon he was put on board the _Maelsturm_, as captain of her, with a picked crew from the _Arrandoon_, and with orders to make all sail for Reikjavik. McBain's last words to him were these,--
”Keep your weather eye lifting, Captain Roderick Elphinston. Clap two sentries on those ruffianly prisoners of yours, and let your men sleep with their cutla.s.ses by their sides and their revolvers under their heads.”
”Ay, ay, sir!” said Rory.
Rory allowed his crew to sleep, but he himself paced the deck all the livelong night. Occasionally he could see the lights of the _Arrandoon_ far on ahead; but towards morning the weather got thick and somewhat squally, and at daylight the _Maelsturm_ seemed alone on the ocean.
Sail was taken in, but the s.h.i.+p kept her course, and just in the even-glome Rory ran into the Bay of Reikjavik, and dropped anchor, and shortly after a boat came off from the _Arrandoon_ with both Allan and Ralph in it, to congratulate the boy-captain on the success of his, first voyage as skipper-commandant.
Next day both the pirate vessel and her captor were show-s.h.i.+ps for the people--all the _elite_ and beauty of Reikjavik crowded off from the sh.o.r.e in dozens to see them. The dilapidated condition of the _Maelsturm_, her broken bulwarks, rent rigging, and s.h.i.+vered spars, showed how fierce the fight had been. Nor were evidences of the struggle wanting on board the _Arrandoon_, albeit the men had been hard at work all the day making good repairs.
The dead were buried at sea; the wounded were mostly sent on sh.o.r.e.
Five poor fellows belonging to McBain's s.h.i.+p would never fight again, and many more were placed for a time _hors de combat_.
As to the prisoners, they were transferred to a French s.h.i.+p that lay at Reikjavik, and that in the course of a week sailed with them for Denmark. Seth and the officers of the _Arrandoon_ made and signed depositions; and in addition to this, as evidence against the pirates, the old clergyman and his daughter Dunette, now joyfully reunited, went along with the Frenchman, while, with a crew from sh.o.r.e, the _Maelsturm_ left some days after. The black flag had never been lowered, nor was it until the day the pirate captain and many of his crew expiated their long list of crimes on the scaffold at the Holms of Copenhagen.
Poor Dunette, the tears fell unheeded from her sad blue eyes as she bade farewell to our heroes on the deck of the _Arrandoon_. She did not say good-bye to the surgeon, however--at least not there. He had begged for a boat, and accompanied her on board the vessel in which she was to sail. Have they a secret, we wonder? Is it possible that our quiet surgeon has won the heart of this beautiful fair-haired Danish maiden?
These are questions we must not seek answer to now, but time may tell.
Not until the pirate s.h.i.+p had left the bay, and the wounded were so far convalescent as to be brought once more on board, did the old peace and quiet settle down upon the good s.h.i.+p _Arrandoon_. And now once more all was bustle and stir; in a day or two they would start for the far north, and bid adieu to civilisation--a long but not, they hoped, a last adieu.
The very evening before they sailed, a farewell party was given on board the _Arrandoon_. The decks were tented over with canvas lined with flags, and the whole scene was gay and festive in the extreme. Poetic Rory could not have believed that there was so much female youth and loveliness in this primitive little town of Reikjavik. No wonder that day was dawning in the east ere the last boat of laughing and merry guests left for the sh.o.r.e.
Many and many a time afterwards, when surrounded by dangers innumerable, when beset in ice, when engulfed in darkness and storm, in the mysterious regions of the Pole, did they look back with pleasure to that last happy night spent in the bay of Reikjavik.
But see, it is twelve o'clock by the sun. Flags are floating gaily on the fort, on the little church tower, and on every eminence in or near the town, and the beach and snow-clad rocks are lined with an excited crowd. Hands and handkerchiefs are waved, and with the farewell cheers the far-off hills resound. Then our brave fellows man the rigging and waft them back cheer for cheer, as the n.o.ble vessel cleaves the waters of the bay, and stands away for the Northern Ocean.
CHAPTER ELEVEN.
THE VOYAGE RESUMED--A PLEASANT EVENING--”THOSE RUs.h.i.+NG WINDS”--THE ”ARRANDOON” GROWS SAUCY--THE DOCTOR SPREAD-EAGLED--A SCHOOL OF WHALES.
Ere the day had worn to a close, before the sun went down in a golden haze, leaving one long line of crimson cloud, as earnest of a bright to-morrow, the _Arrandoon_, steaming twelve knots to the hour, was once more far away at sea, and the rugged mountains of Iceland could hardly be descried. As night fell a breeze sprang up, and as there was little doubt it would freshen ere long--for it blew from the east-south-east, and the gla.s.s had slightly gone down, with the mercury still concave at top--Captain McBain gave orders for the fires to be banked, and as much canvas spread as she could comfortably carry.