The Blue Pavilions by Arthur Quiller-Couch (leveled readers .TXT) 📕

after that you know the road—the usual one. The word is Modena. You will take your son with you, of course, and persuade him (if you can) that he is travelling back to Harwich by the shortest road."

"That will be difficult."

"From Paris return to Dunkirk, and there await a letter from me. By that time I hope to be able to send you information, on the strength of which you may at once sail for Harwich. Meanwhile guard that young man as the apple of your eye.&#8230"

We will return to the subject of this amiable advice. Tristram had been kicking his heels for ten minutes or more in the draughty passage, and wondering if he should ever know the taste of food again, when the door opened on the landing above, and the old gentleman in blue and silver descended the stairs from his audience. He was clearly in something of a hurry, and strode past our hero as if unaware of his presence, but turned on his heel at the end of the passage and came swiftly back.

"I ask your pardon, young man," he began, in a quick, foreign voice, "but I thought I heard his Majesty speaking to you of a Captain Runacles as I entered the room. Forgive me if I seem too inquisitive, but do you happen to know Captain Jeremiah Runacles?"

"I know no reason, sir, against my answering. I know him well, and love him."

"Ha? Where does he live?"

"In Harwich."

"He keeps hale?"

"In excellent health for his age."

"Could he still answer for himself with a small-sword?—I mean not with a young adversary, but, say, with a man of my age?"

"I have not the slightest doubt of it, sir." Tristram stared at the old gentleman, who was of a tall unwieldy figure, short bull neck and choleric complexion.

"You will see him again shortly?"

"With God's help I shall see him in three days' time."

"Then I'd be obliged by your taking him a message from me. Tell him, sir, that I, Captain Van Adrienssen, may be heard of at The Hague at any time, and have not forgotten a certain promise of his (to cut my comb) which he uttered at one time when our ships lay alongside off the Texel. Assure him that, though night parted us, I still retain the boot which he flung at my head and into my ship. Say that I have been waiting ever since for the man who fits that boot, and warn him that we are both well stricken in years and have little time left in which to try conclusions. You have that by heart?"

"Yes, sir."

"Repeat it."

Tristram did so.

"Very well; now be careful to deliver it."

And, nodding his head sharply, the old gentleman hurried away on his business just as the Earl and Captain Salt returned from their colloquy.

 

CHAPTER IX. THE FOUR MEN AT THE "WHITE LAMB".

"Well, my son," began Captain Salt, as the Earl reascended the stairs. "Thanks be that we are alone together at last! Do I not keep my promises?"

"Indeed, father, you are kind. There is only one thing—"

"What is that?"

"I should prefer to return to Harwich alive; and seeing that I have eaten nothing for a day and a half—"

His father interrupted him by taking his arm and hurrying him off to the kitchen of the auberge, where a fat woman was basting a couple of ducks before a roaring fire.

"Pardon me, mistress," he began in Dutch; "but can you give this young man a breakfast?"

The hostess seemed to be annoyed.

"What does he want?" she inquired sharply.

The question being interpreted to Tristram, he answered that he wanted everything, but that in the meantime the ducks would serve to break the edge of his fast.

"But these are for his Majesty."

"What have you besides?"

"Salt fish."

"I will begin with salt fish."

"Bacon."

"I see," said Tristram, nodding up at a regiment of hams that depended from a rack overhead; "I will eat these also. What else?"

"Cheese."

"On second thoughts, I will begin with cheese while the fish is being prepared. Is that all?"

"Mother of God! Is it not enough?"

"How can I tell yet? Let me see your bread and cheese."

The woman left her ducks, and in a minute had dumped down a loaf and a huge round cheese of an orange colour before our hero.

"When do we start?" he asked, with his mouth full.

"Shortly after dark."

"Then I have plenty of time."

"I should hope so. Hostess, bring a bottle of wine."

"Two bottles," Tristram interrupted.

"It will get into your head."

"I hope so, for my head is something light at present."

"You propose, then, to spend the day in eating and drinking?"

"Unless you know of some better amusement with which we can beguile the time."

"None whatever. And as I must leave you for some time while I make arrangements for our return—"

"I shall not be lonely," said Tristram, with a glance at the ducks, followed by an upward look of resignation directed at the rows of hams.

It was dark when Captain Salt returned, and found his son on the settle where he had left him. Tristram was not sitting, however, but stretched at length and breathing heavily. At the farther end of the table sat the host and hostess of the inn, engaged in making out the bill.

"One—two—three—six bottles!" exclaimed his father, counting the ruins on the board. "Why, the boy is drunk!"

"No, father," Tristram interrupted, sitting up and rubbing his eyes; "not so much drunk as asleep, and not so much asleep but that I could see the landlord here add three empty bottles to the two I had finished, without counting one that came full to the table and was emptied by him for his supper."

Captain Salt shot a searching glance at the couple, who coloured and seemed confused.

"What is this?" he cried, examining the reckoning. "Two ducks!"

"Ah, I'm afraid it is true that I ate one of the ducks."

"But they were for his Majesty!"

"It appears they were cooked on the chance of pleasing his Majesty, who left, however, without inquiring for them. The landlord and his wife have just eaten the other. Is it time to start?"

"Yes."

Tristram jumped up and stretched himself, smiling amiably on the host and hostess, who returned his look with no very good will. Captain Salt, having made the proper deductions calmly, paid the reckoning, and they left the house.

Outside the weather was still dirty, and a wind, which had gradually risen since the morning, blew in their faces charged with chilly moisture. The mist, however, had cleared a little, and Tristram, as he rammed his hat tightly on his head before facing the night, could see the lights of the squadron far out upon the black and broken waters of the Maese.

"In what ship do we return?" he asked.

The wind apparently drowned his question; for Captain Salt started off without replying and led the way down across the sandbanks. It seemed to Tristram that their path lay to the left of that by which they had approached the inn early in the morning. He was straining his eyes on the look out for the wooden landing-stage, when suddenly, on climbing a ridge somewhat higher than the rest, he saw the white fringe of the waves glimmering close under his feet and the inky shadow of a boat, in which sat a couple of dark forms. One of them, hearing the low whistle uttered by Captain Salt, scrambled forward to the bows and held out a hand.

Tristram looked at his father, who nodded. They entered the boat in silence, and within a minute were being rowed rapidly across the tide. It struck our hero that the oars made remarkably little noise, in spite of the energy with which they were plied. He was about to speak, but checked himself on seeing his father raise a finger to his lips. "What is the meaning of this?" he wondered. His enormous meal had made him drowsy; and deciding that, if not allowed to speak, he might at least nod, he closed his eyes.

He opened them again with a start. From the shore behind them the roar of guns had just burst out upon the night.

This was his first impression; but the sound was not repeated, and in a moment or two he fancied he must have been dreaming of the salute he had heard in the lazarette of the Good Intent, as the squadron sailed out of Harwich. The boat was still moving with unabated speed, and the dark, choppy water stretched all round them. Through the murky night the ships' lanterns still shone steadily enough, but farther off than before, and at a sharp angle behind his right shoulder.

"It seems we are not steering very straight for the fleet," he could not help remarking.

"We are not steering for the fleet," said his father.

"But I thought—"

He broke off as a series of sharp flashes danced out in the distance, followed by the rattle of musketry and a dull, confused shouting.

"You perceive," Captain Salt remarked, "that the squadron is not the safest means of reaching Harwich."

"What are they doing out there?"

"They are killing each other."

"That sounds very unpleasant."

"And as the night is too dark to distinguish faces with any certainty, I thought you would prefer to go home by another way."

"A longer way?"

"It is certainly a trifle longer; but then, as it won't expose you to the risk of being killed—"

"That's true. I won't grudge the time."

The explosions of musketry, meanwhile, had been following each other faster and faster, and at length became incessant.

"Bravo!" muttered Captain Salt to himself; "this will take some time to quell."

"What did you say?"

"I was thinking, my son, that 'tis lucky you have somebody to look after you."

Tristram sought for his father's hand and pressed it. "I am not ungrateful, as you think."

"Why should I think so? You will have more yet to thank me for, I hope."

The boat at this moment swung to the left, around a sandy promontory that hid the jets of firearms behind them; but waves of light still flickered across the black sky and the shouting still went on, though growing fainter as they hurried forward. By one of the flashes, more vivid than the rest and accompanied by the crackle of a whole volley, Tristram saw that the boat was now being propelled down a narrow channel, both shores of which he could just perceive across the gloom.

Captain Salt suddenly raised both hands to his mouth, and hollowing the palms, uttered three mournful cries, long and loud, like the wailing of a gull.

Within half a minute the sound was echoed back from the darkness on the right shore, for which the boat immediately headed. After thirty strokes Tristram felt the sand rub beneath the keel, and they came to a stand.

"Show the light!" his father called, jumping out into the water that hardly covered the insteps of his riding-boots.

The red glow of a lantern appeared as if by magic, and revealed a man standing but twenty yards ahead on a gentle slope of sand. He held the lantern in one hand, and his right arm was slipped through the bridles of two horses that waited, side by side, and ready saddled, their breath smoking out on the night wind.

"Dear me," Captain Salt observed, reaching a hand to Tristram, and helping him to land; "I forgot to ask if you could ride."

"A very little, my father."

"You will find it difficult, then, to trot. Therefore we will gallop."

"You intend me to climb upon one of these beasts?"

"That is easy enough."

"I do not deny it; but I suppose you also wish me to stay on."

"Come; we must lose no time."

"Luckily the soil of Holland, as far as I am acquainted with it, is soft and sandy. On the other hand—"

"Well?"

"I was about to remark that they grow an immense quantity of tulips in this country, which demand a harder soil."

"We shall pass none."

"That is fortunate. For when I reach home and they ask me, 'Well, what have you done in Holland?' it would be sad to own, 'I have done little beyond rolling on a bed of tulips.'"

With this he climbed into the saddle and thrust his feet well into the stirrups, while his father whispered a word or two to the boatmen, who were about to push off on their return journey.

"Are you ready, my son?" he asked, returning and mounting beside him.

"Quite."

"Forward, then!"

The two horses broke into a trot. "Ugh," exclaimed Tristram, bobbing up and down.

"I told you we must go faster.