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

the little group still standing around him.

"Peter," he said, sitting up with an effort; "get my coat."

"But, Captain, you cannot put it on," remonstrated Peter, a squarely built man with eyes of a porcelain blue.

"Then how in the world do you suppose that I'm to get past the sentries?"

"You'll be carried."

"And let every man of them know that this gentleman and I have been fighting in his Majesty's park! Tut, tut; you'll have them both arrested in a jiffy. Give me my coat!"

"You cannot get your arm into it."

"My worthy Peter, you're my excellent lieutenant and a fair seaman; but I begin to doubt if you'll ever make a captain. You've no resource. Take your knife. Now slit down the inner seam of the sleeve—so. Now lift me up and help me into it."

He stood on his legs. His face was a trifle pale, but he kept his jaw set firmly.

"Now button the sleeve at the wrist."

"But it still gapes above."

"Of course it does. Therefore we will walk arm-in-arm; only you must hold me very gently. There, that's it." He nodded stiffly, and was moving away on Peter's arm when Captain Barker interposed.

"Excuse me, Captain van Adrienssen, but just outside the park gate you'll find a litter, which I am happy to place at your service."

"Thank you, sir, but I'll not use it."

"You will," said Peter decidedly.

"Why, sir, we have to start for Amsterdam to-night."

"You'll get no farther than The Hague," said Peter; "and there you'll be put to bed."

They walked slowly off, arm-in-arm. Drawing near the sentries, Captain van Adrienssen groaned.

"Going to faint?" Peter asked.

"Not till I get outside."

He was as good as his word, and they went through the gates without exciting suspicion. The litter was there, and Peter, beckoning to the men, explained the case in a whisper. His companion offered no opposition. Indeed, no sooner was he placed in the litter than he swooned away.

King William was still strolling in his favourite avenue when the two captains approached, led by their friend the ensign, who was beginning to wish himself well out of the business. At his Majesty's side paced William Bentinck, Earl of Portland, whom we have already met, in the course of this narrative, in the little inn at Vlaardingen. The two were alone and in earnest converse, but looked up as the party approached along the avenue.

"H'm, it appears to me that I know these two shapes," said William.

"They are odd enough to be remembered."

"That is the figure which honesty cuts in the country over which I have the misfortune to rule—or rather to reign. My friend, these are two honest Englishmen, and therefore worth observation. Moreover, they are about to give me the devil of a time. Well, gentlemen," he continued, lifting his voice as they approached, "what is your business?"

"We desire your Majesty to listen to us."

"On a matter of importance?"

"To us—yes. It has brought us from England."

"Speak, then."

"Your Majesty," Captain Barker began, his voice trembling slightly, "we have come to offer you, and to beg that you will accept, our swords and our service."

"That is very pretty, sir," answered William, after a pause, during which his eye kindled with some triumph; "but unless I do you an injustice, Captain Barker and Captain Runacles, there is some condition attached to this surrender."

"None, sire, but that which your Majesty's self imposed less than three months back. We are come to redeem, if we may, the young man of whom you then robbed us."

"Robbed!"

"Forgive me, sire—deprived. See, your Majesty; we are two old men, but active; battered somewhat, but not ignorant; worn, but not worn out. We are at your service: take us, use us as you will. We will serve you faithfully, loyally, without question, until we die or your enemies break us. Only restore our son, Tristram Salt."

"Gentlemen, I will not say but that I am gratified by this—" William paused, saw the hope spring into their eyes, and added, with assumed coldness—"only it happens that you come too late."

The two honest faces fell.

"Too-late?" Captain Barker stammered, staring stupidly at the King. "Is my boy—dead?" The question came in a dull, sick tone, that softened their Sovereign's heart within him.

"Forgive me, gentlemen; I had no right to play thus with your feelings. You have come too late only because I gave the young man his discharge more than two months ago, with a passport to take him back to England."

"But he has not arrived!"

"He started, at any rate; and in company with one who appeared to have the best right to take care of him—I mean his father, Captain Roderick Salt."

Captain Barker groaned.

"May it please your Majesty," said Captain Jemmy, thrusting himself forward, "but Roderick Salt's the damn'dest villain in your service; and that's saying a good deal. I mean no offence, of course."

"Of course not," commented the Earl of Portland, who was hugely delighted.

"I believe that opinion is held by some," his Majesty observed, with a side-glance at his friend.

"Not by me," said Portland tranquilly. "There are worse than Salt— whom, after all, your Majesty has neither enriched nor ennobled."

William frowned. For a moment or two he stood, scraping the gravel gently with the side of his boot. At last he spoke:

"Gentlemen, I thank you for your offer; and some day I may take advantage of it to command you: for honest men (however wrong-headed) and good commanders"—this with a slight bow—"are always scarce. For the moment, however, I should feel that I wronged you by accepting your service."

"Your Majesty is good to us. But our word holds."

"I thank you. I had guessed that. Nevertheless, I advise you, just now, to return to England and wait. I have some knowledge of Captain Salt's movements; and when last your lad was heard of he had parted company with his father and was making for the coast. I have some quickness in reading character; and there is a certain placid obstinacy in that young man which persuades me he will reach Harwich in time. Return, therefore, and wait with what patience you may. Moreover, Captain Barker, I perceive that you are recovering from some wound."

"Which explains, sire, the tardiness of my submission. I was starting to seek an audience on the morning that you sailed from Harwich, when your soldiers—"

"My soldiers?"

"Yes, sire; but perhaps they erred from abundance of zeal."

Portland looked at the speaker shrewdly. "You know more than you tell us, my friend," he said quietly.

"Possibly, my lord; but it is nothing that can affect his Majesty now."

"You are under some promise?" William asked gravely.

"We are, sire; but be assured that if it touched your welfare we had never come to lay our services at your disposal."

"I believe you, my friends. And now, about starting for England—I was about to propose that as Captain van Adrienssen's frigate—

"Captain van Adrienssen!"

"You know him? He is about to sail from Amsterdam in the frigate Merry Maid to escort a convoy of thirty-six merchantmen to the Thames. If you start at once you will overtake him."

"Unfortunately, sire, Captain van Adrienssen will not be able to start for many days."

"Eh?"

"He is unwell."

"Unwell? Why, it is not an hour since he left me!"

"Nevertheless—"

"Let me explain, sire," said Captain Runacles, stepping forward again. "It happened thus. We met Captain van Adrienssen on our way from The Hague."

"Yes, yes."

"And it appeared—though I had forgotten it—that twenty years ago I had the imprudence to throw a boot at his head. It was off the Texel—"

"Have you lost your senses?"

"I beg your Majesty to listen. The sight of me revived that painful recollection. We pulled out our swords and fell on each other, forgetting, alas! that now we are both servants of your Majesty. It is annoying; but before we could remember it, Captain van Adrienssen was wounded."

William's brow was black as night.

"A duel?" he said sternly.

"Your Majesty, it could hardly be dignified by that name. Say rather—"

"What shall I do with these incorrigibles?" asked the King, turning to Portland. "At this time, too, when I've not a single other commander of value within call!"

"If I may advise you, sire—But, first, will you command these gentlemen to retire?"

William dismissed them with a wave of the hand, and they withdrew to a little distance among the trees, where they waited in considerable trepidation.

It was a full half an hour before Portland came towards them, trying to hide a smile.

"Pouf!" he said, "that was a tough business, gentlemen. I have persuaded his Majesty to accept the offer he declined a while ago, and to use your services."

"In what way, my lord?"

"You will go at once to The Hague and find out the condition of Captain van Adrienssen. If, as I suspect, he be unfit to travel, you will, with this authority, take over his papers and post to Amsterdam, where you will find the Merry Maid frigate with her convoy. You are to escort this convoy to the Thames—but you will read your instructions in the papers which Van Adrienssen will give you. You, Captain Barker, are the senior, I believe. Yes? I thought so; and therefore you will take command. Unless your friend declines to act on this occasion as your lieutenant—"

"My lord, how can we thank you?"

"By serving his Majesty," answered Portland; and added significantly, "rather than the Earl of Marlborough."

The two friends walked away, treading on air. But perhaps their friend the ensign, from whom they parted affectionately at the foot of the avenue, was happier even than they. For not only did his heart rejoice at their good fortune, but his Majesty had failed to inquire whether the duel had been fought within or without the park gates.

 

CHAPTER XIII. CAPTAIN SALT EFFECTS ONE SURPRISE AND PLANS TWO MORE.

On the sixth day after his departure Captain Salt returned to Dunkirk unexpectedly.

He arrived about four in the afternoon and was rowed at once to the Commodore's galley. He climbed on deck and looked about him. The lieutenant stepped forward. Captain Salt shook hands and asked:

"Where is the Commodore?"

"In his cabin."

"Alone?"

"No; he is holding a council of war. All his captains are there."

Captain Salt whistled softly to himself.

"How long have they been sitting?" he asked.

"Less than ten minutes. In fact they have but just arrived."

"Thank you. I'll go down and look in."

"My friend," he said to himself, as he walked aft and descended the ladder, "the chance has come sooner than you expected. You'll have to play this game boldly."

He knocked at the cabin door and entered, with the dust of travel thick upon him. He had ridden thirty-six miles since breakfast along dusty roads and under a broiling sun. Nevertheless his manner was cool enough as he bowed to all present.

"I must apologise, gentlemen, for the state of my clothes; but I heard you were sitting and could not rest until I had saluted you."

They welcomed him heartily as he dropped into a vacant chair. M. de la Pailletine reached across the table and shook hands with him.

"It is very thoughtful of you," said the Commodore. "We were about to draw up a plan of the cruises to be taken this week and shall be glad to have your advice."

"I'm afraid, gentlemen, I'm too weary to offer much advice. But that need not prevent my listening with attention to the wisdom of others."

There was the faintest shade of derision in his voice, if they had any cause for suspecting it. As it was, however, not a man present had the slightest mistrust of him. He had conquered all their prejudices.

The Commodore resumed the short speech he had been making; and when he had concluded, one captain followed another with criticism and fresh proposals—Captain Baudus, of Le Paon, the Chevalier de Sainte-Croix, of La Merveille, Captain Denoyre, of the Sanspareil. During their speeches Captain Salt sat perfectly silent, either resting his head on his hands and stifling his yawns as though politely concealing his weariness, or drumming quietly with his fingers on the table and staring up at the ceiling like one lost in thought.

But, all of a sudden, as M. de la Pailletine was in the act of offering some remarks upon a scheme of Captain Denoyre's for a descent upon the Isle of Thanet, the Englishman, still yawning, got upon his legs and said very carelessly:

"I regret to interrupt M. le Chef d'escadre, but we waste time."

The Commodore paused, open-mouthed, in the middle of a sentence, and stared.

"Yes,