Читать книгу The Golden Rock - Glanville Ernest - Страница 9

Hume was immediately shown into a tiny box of a cabin and the door locked upon him, an indignity that roused him to wrath, so that he banged against the frail panels with his fist.

“Look here,” said a deep voice from the alley, “if you don’t stow that sharp I’ll clap you in irons.”

“Leave him to me, Captain, and go on the bridge. Now, sir, will you oblige me by keeping silence for a few hours?”

Frank recognised the speaker by the rich tones, and immediately was pacified.

“If you wish it, I will; but please unlock the door.”

“Give me your promise that you won’t make any disturbance.”

“I promise.”

“Thank you.” She turned the key, and then he heard the rustle of her dress as she quickly moved away.

He stood looking at the handle for some moments, then sat on the bunk, with the feeling strongly rooted that he was in for some dark enterprise; but his mind dwelt less on this than on the stately figure and beautiful face of this strange girl, whose strong character had been so forcibly shown.

Who could she be, and what was she doing there—one woman with several men, and men evidently lawless? Already he longed for the hour when he could see her again, and once more hear her voice, and the remarkable and sudden change in the steady current of his life troubled him not at all.

But presently his natural caution overmastered the swift-born infatuation which had threatened to make a slave of him, and he roused himself to take a survey of the little cabin. This, though small, contained two bunks, was plainly fitted and strongly built. The port-hole, he noticed by the dim light, was protected by an inner sheet of steel. This he unscrewed, and opening, too, the round glass, he framed his face in the brass-rimmed circle. The boat was slipping along down the dark river at medium speed, the regular beat of her engines sounding very distinctly in the still night, and her track stretching in a ghostly gleam, unbroken by any other craft. By craning his neck, he noticed that she seemed very low in the water, and of unusual length, and he was puzzled to place her in any category of cargo or passenger steamers, finally coming to the conclusion that she was one of those long, swift tugs he had sometimes seen ploughing up the river with a string of coal barges in tow; a boat probably built for narrow channels, and to pass under low bridges.

“She’s not built for the ocean,” he mused, “and when we get into the Bay she’ll play pitch-and-toss, I’ll be bound.”

Suddenly, quite near, Captain Pardoe spoke:

“Forrard, there!”

“Ay, ay, sir.”

“Do you see the Hospital ship?”

“We’ll pass her at the next bend, sir.”

“Put the lights out as soon as you see her. Who have you got in the bows?”

“Dick, the Owl,” said the officer, with a slight laugh.

“That will do. Aft there, stand by the wheel.”

“Ay, ay, sir,” came in muffled reply.

“We won’t steer her from the bridge, madam,” said the Captain, “all the lights must be out, and the orders passed by mouth.”

“Do you think they’ll challenge us?” spoke the young lady, her voice sounding so near that Frank involuntarily drew back his head.

“They’ll speak us, but we’ll get through right enough. If there’s any trouble it’ll be off Sheerness.”

“Why there?”

“They’ll wire to the coastguard, and they’ll signal the guardship.”

“That’s a man-of-war, isn’t it?”

“She is that, miss, but she’ll not fire, I hope; and we’ll slip by before she’s rubbed her eyes. There are the lights of Gravesend, and isn’t that something black ahead under the bank? You won’t go below, I s’pose, Miss Laura?”

“No, Captain Pardoe; I will stop here.”

Suddenly the glare over the bows from the forward lamps died out, there was a sharp ring of the engineer’s bell, a sound of men in hot haste thrusting at the fires, and the vessel began to quiver and vibrate to the beat of vast engines working faster and faster.

There was a rush of wind on Frank’s face, the dark objects on the shore swiftly receded into the general blur, and the water foamed up at the bows and fell away in curling waves.

“Are all the lights out, Mr Webster?”

“Yes, sir; all but a light from a starboard port.”

“It’s that swab of a passenger,” growled the Captain; “I’ll have him tied to his bunk.”

Frank, warned that he was guilty of some unpardonable indiscretion, crawled down from the top bunk, and had just reached the floor, when the handle turned, there was a quick step, a rustle, and the light was switched off, not before he had seen the dark eyes flashing in resentment.

“If you behave in this way, sir, I’ll not stand between you and discipline.”

“Really, I did not know I was doing anything wrong.”

“Shut the port-hole,” she said sharply.

He turned to obey with a frown of protest, when, seemingly not a yard off, there flamed the lights of a ship’s cabin.

“Where are you coming to, you lubber?” shouted out a voice furiously.

There was a jar, an ugly tearing noise, and Frank and the young lady were thrown at each other.

“I beg your pardon, really,” said Frank, as he loosened his hold of her waist; “but I could not help myself.”

She stood back with a gasp. “Did you see that? Has she sunk?”

The reply came from the angry officer of the other vessel in a torrent of language reassuring as to her safety, but venomously strong.

The lights of another ship flashed by; then the steamer darted into the narrow fairway between a fleet of vessels, big and little, the waves washing against them, and bringing up an angry swarm of men, whose shouts could be heard in a confused babble in the rear.

“What ship’s that?” hailed a man in powerful tones.

There was no answer, and Frank felt a hand on his arm.

“We are the Customs—where are your lights?” followed in a faint hail astern.

“Thank Heaven, we are past Gravesend. Now, sir, you may have your light again.”

She pressed the button, and the electric light shone over her lustrous hair, revealing a sparkle in her glorious eyes and a flush on her cheeks.

Frank looked at her, and forgot everything in amazement at her beauty.

“I dare say,” she said, with a faint smile, “you are wondering who we are?”

“I don’t know,” said he, “and I don’t care, so long as I”—he meant to add—“am with you,” but he paused in time at the hint of a haughty surprise in her eyes.

She looked at him steadily a moment with a glance that implied some new interest, then, once more switching off the light, went out without a word, closing the door behind her.

He listened and heard her voice on deck, when he again framed his face in the port-hole.

The bow lights had been relit, and the ship had slackened something of her tremendous speed.

“I wish to Heaven,” said the Captain, “those funnels would not draw so well. Just look at that shower of sparks; they’ll give notice of our coming.”

“Why not slacken speed until you are close on the guardship?”

“That’ll give ’em more time to prepare for us, but it’s the best thing to do.”

Then followed a sharp signal to the engineer, and the speed was still further decreased.

“Mr Webster, was she damaged at all by that brush?”

“Just a dent, sir; but she’s all sound below.”

“Douse the lights again. We’ll keep close in on the port tack. Keep your eye on the Kent shore, and tell the watch to be on the lookout for the guardship.”

For some time the ship slipped along through the dark waters without another word being spoken.

“There’s the signal, sir,” sang out a voice, breaking in on the silence. A rocket mounted afar off.

“Ay, I see it. It’s as I feared. They’ve alarmed the guardship, and’ll be sending a boat to her. Suppose they catch us, madam, what yarn will you spin?”

“They must not catch us.”

“They may open fire.”

“Whether they fire or not, we must get through. Couldn’t we open fire, too?”

Captain Pardoe laughed.

“We must depend on our heels, Miss Laura. If it came to knocks, the guardship would blow us out of the water.”

“How annoying!” was the truly feminine reply—a reply so inappropriate that even Frank smiled, while Captain Pardoe chuckled audibly.

“Understand, Captain,” she continued imperiously, “I will not be captured, nor the ship, not if they have to blow it up.”

“Ah, see that?”

A shaft of light shot into the sky, then dropped to the water and swept swiftly from right to left.

“It’s the search-light. The guardship is looking for us. Mr Webster, step down to the engineer and tell him we’ll want every pound of steam he can give us when I signal him. We must get twenty-seven knots out of her.”

“Twenty-seven knots,” thought Frank. “What ship can this be?” The cabin seemed to grow unbearable as his excitement increased, and if danger was to be encountered his place was by the side of this girl whom Fate had thrown in his path.

Again the shaft of light, broadening from its base, shot out into the darkness, and swept the water to its outermost fringe, where the gleam mingled with the black night, reaching a few lengths ahead, where it outlined a bare pole on the bank.

“Port your helm; put her over to the Kent shore,” the Captain ordered with lowered voice.

The vessel came round, and made across to the other bank.

The search-light swept round again, just as the vessel was near the right bank, and the light shone over the deck, lighting up every detail, before it passed on.

“Astern—full speed astern,” roared the Captain down the speaking-tube; “starboard your helm; bring her up on the old course.”

The vessel backed out as the search-light flew back to the place she had occupied, and then swiftly made over to the Essex shore, and at another signal from the bridge darted into the shelter of the night.

Frank could hold himself no longer, but flung open the door, and after groping about in the saloon, found the companion-way to the deck. There was a broad white belt of light on his right, but all around and ahead was darkness, intensified by the brightness so near.

“They’ll find us in a minute,” spoke the Captain, and Frank, turning, saw dimly two figures on a bridge just ahead of two singularly low funnels, from which poured dense volumes of smoke.

The shaft of light played about the further shore, swept out slowly to mid-stream, then swept back again.

“Stand by, Mr Dixon,” said the Captain, down the tube.

The guardship could now be dimly seen behind that glittering eye—a blurr of spars and funnels about a mile up stream.

The light crept over the dark river in a broad track of gleaming silver, came slowly nearer, then, in a blinding flash, shone over the vessel, lighting up every man as he stood at his post, and bringing out the girl’s face in a startling pallor.

The bell sounded its sharp order, the engines answered quicker and quicker, and the long, narrow ship seemed to leap forward, sending up a shower of water, which sparkled in the light, and came aft like rain. On she rushed—the flames springing from her funnels—the whole frame and body of her vibrating, and the water hissing and splashing before her bows and in her wake.

A ball of white smoke, which for a moment dimmed the flaming light, belched from the warship, followed at fully half a minute by the sullen boom.

“That’s by way of formal notice,” said the Captain; “by-and-by she’ll send a sharper summons; better go below, Miss Laura.”

“I will stay here,” she answered quietly.

The small ship was now abreast of the man-of-war, which had changed its course and was steaming slowly ahead. On the left were the lights of Southend, far ahead the revolving lights of the Nore lightship, and on the port bows was the black hull and green and red lights of a huge steamer.

“That’s a stroke of luck,” said the Captain. “We’ll get on the blind side of that ship, and that bulldog daren’t show his teeth until we’re well clear both of Southend and the steamer.”

The man-of-war fired another blank charge, but the long, low vessel darted along, shifting her course until she came under the bows of the big ocean steamer.

The search-light, however, soon picked her up beyond, and a minute after there was another report, followed this time by the shrill scream of a shell, than which there are few sounds more threatening. The shot flew high, plunging with a splash far on the port side.

“They cannot hit us, Captain Pardoe, and we are rapidly leaving them.”

“They are not trying, Miss Laura. That was just by way of being more peremptory. In ten minutes we’ll be beyond reach of their light, and then there’ll be another spell of safety, unless we are sunk. Hullo, here comes another.”

There was another sullen roar, and the gunner had determined on a closer call, for the ball touched the water not a hundred yards off, then ricocheted to the Essex coast.

“The next one will have us,” growled the Captain.

“Steamer’s lights ahead! Starboard bow!” hailed the lookout.

Eyes were taken off the following man-of-war, and strained into—the darkness ahead, out of which presently there stood two lights.

“She’s near us, Mr Webster, and thank your stars for a sound berth to-night for that. We’ll slip by on the port, and then get away under her bulk. Do you think they see her?”

“No, sir; but the steamer ’ll make the cruiser see her. She must be in a rare state. Ah! there goes a rocket.”

High into the black heavens ahead went a ball of fire, which presently curved over and burst in a shower of blue.

“Looks like a navy signal, sir?”

“Very like. If she is, we’re caught hard and fast.”

“There’s an answer from the warship, sir,” said Frank, who had turned his eyes aft.

“I wish I understood the game,” growled the Captain, banging his fist on the bridge rail. “Oh, she means it this time!”

A red tongue of flame leapt out, a great volume of white smoke; the shot, keeping low, struck the water up, and then there was a loud crash, followed by the whir of splinters.

Frank saw the dark figure at the wheel suddenly sink to the deck, and without losing a moment he bounded down the narrow deck, seized the handle as the wheel was beginning to revolve, and brought it round.

“She’s paying off. What in thunder’s up with the wheel?” roared the Captain. “Mr Webster, take two men aft. Starboard your helm.”

Frank put his weight in, and with every sinew straining, brought the vessel round, just as, like a runaway horse that takes the bit in its iron jaws, she had threatened to come broadside on.

“What’s wrong here?” panted Mr Webster anxiously, as he reached the wheel.

“Steersman hit,” said Frank shortly; “carry him off. I’ll manage this.”

Mr Webster groped for the wounded man, drew him away, and then paused to look up, for they were passing the vessel whose lights they had seen. She was scarcely making any way, and the bulwarks were lined with pale faces, among them those of many women.

“Thank Heaven, she’s no cruiser; hurrah, boys, hurrah!”

The few hands took up the cheer, and the people on the deck above, relieved from some nameless fear at seeing the dark ship slipping away, responded with a feeble shout; the captain, from his lofty bridge, sending a call through his hollow hands: “What’s the meaning of this foolery?”

“Ask the guardship,” bellowed Captain Pardoe; “a little target practice. Good-bye.”

The little ship plunged into the welcome darkness, still maintaining her terrific speed, and the search-light could not reach her.

Then the lights were lit, the wounded man carried below, and an inspection made of the ship, when it was found that the iron bulwarks had been pierced a little forward of the wheel.

“Send the steersman forward!” shouted the Captain.

Frank was relieved, and walked to the bridge.

“What’s your name, my man?”

“Hume.”

“What—the passenger? I gave orders to have you locked in. Never mind that, sir; you did well, and I’m much obliged to you. You’re welcome to the run of the ship. That was a close shave, eh? If it hadn’t been for the mercy of that steamer we’d have been five fathoms under. You’d better turn in now.”

Frank lingered awhile to see whether the lady would appear, and then went down below, where he saw her leaning, as it were, for support against a saloon pillar, a handkerchief pressed to her forehead.

“It has been a trying night,” he said gently.

“You had no right to leave your cabin,” she replied—then swiftly disappeared.

Frank looked down the narrow gangway, heard the bang of her door, and, with his head up, and feeling mightily offended, entered his own tiny cabin.

“She might have been civil, at least,” he muttered.