The Gentleman

A >> Alfred Ollivant >> The Gentleman

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"What then?"

"Ain't you heard, sir?" aghast. "Last night--eleven o'clock--full
moon--clear as crystal--Diamond laid the _Kite_ aboard the Revenue
cutter off Darby's Hole."

"Well?" breathlessly.

"Ah, well indeed, sir!--No one'll ever knaw the rights o that yarn.
Only one chap o the crew o the _Curlew_ left alive to tell the
tale--poor Alf Huggett here alongside o me. Stove in a water-butt and
hid in it--didn't you, Alf?"

There was a waiting silence.

"It's broke him up surely, sir," whispered Reuben. "And I don't wonder.
Saw enough through that bung-hole to keep him thinking for the rest
of his life."

"Fat George!" shivered a thin voice. "Fat George!"

"Ah!" came the windy chorus. "Him and old Toadie!"

"Anyways there it be!" continued Reuben. "At noon to-day the _Curlew_
drifted up against Seaford jetty, yards hung with her own crew, like
carcasses in a butcher's shop."

"Brutes!" gasped the boy. "But what's the meaning of it all?"

Reuben shrugged till his oil-skins crackled.

"No sayin, sir. Summat's up; summat big. Diamond wanted the coast
cleared; and he's cleared it--by thunder he has! Swep it up bald as
the back o my hand."

The mist blew away faint and thin. Through it the bowed crest-line
of a cliff loomed up to larboard.

"There's the last o the Seven Sisters!" said Reuben. "Birling Gap's
just here along." He moved among his men. "Stations, boys. It's here
or hereabouts...."

"Hush!" whispered Kit.

CHAPTER VI

THE LUGGER KITE

I

"D'you hear anything, sir?"

The boy made no reply, listening, listening.

Had he made a mistake?--was it only the swish of waters under the
keel? ... No!

_"There! there, in front!"_

This time there was no mistaking it--the noise of a boat's bow smashing
into seas.

Reuben brought his fist down with a thump.

"To the tick!"

Just then the cloud-drift parted. Through tatters of mist the moon
shone down.

II

Bowling out on the top of the tide came a lugger, the foam at her foot.

She was black in the moon, and barely a cable's length away.

"That her?" asked the gruff voice of the old Commander.

"That's the _Kite_, sir," answered Reuben. "Know her luff anywheres.
Foots it like a witch, and handles like a lady. A boy could sail her;
and she'll carry farty at a pinch."

The old Commander watched her across the glimmering waters.

"Means havin it," he said with a grunt half of admiration, half of
satisfaction.

"Ah, that's Diamond, sir!" answered the other. "God A'mighty couldn't
stop him once he's set."

The old Commander measured the lessening distance between him and his
prey.

"I shall keep as I go," he said deliberately. "Reck'n he'll do
the same. We oughter meet. But if he should scrape through, why let
him have it nice and hearty as he goes under my bows."

"Ay, ay, sir."

He stumped aft; while the men rammed down their sou-westers.

III

"I'll lay I bag Fat George in the belly," said one, spitting leisurely,
as he fingered his musket.

"I'll lay you don't then," retorted another.

"I'll lay you couldn't miss it," chipped in a wag.

There was a rumble of laughter, quickly hushed.

The boy among them sniggered, to vindicate his courage.

How brave they were! and what beasts! They made him sick, and filled
him with admiration. He should like to be like that--to feel nothing;
to see nothing; to loll up against the side and spit about, and make
bad jokes, a minute before he took the life of a brother man. That
was fine: that was manhood. One day, please God, he would be the same.

He peeped at the lugger. She was holding on, hard-driven, a long-boat
with high-cocked nose tearing astern.

The big ship was bearing down on her like a hawk on a sparrow. It was
bullying but O! was it not glorious? The old thrill, the thrill of
thrills, incomparable, made him tremble. He was manhunting once more.

"He'll carry the sticks out of her," muttered one of the men. "Crackin
along all sail--capsize or no."

"He may crack along," said another. "He's done. Black Diamond's done."

The sea flopped in the moon. Here and there a gathering swell hissed
into foam. The _Tremendous_ scarcely felt it; but the lugger lay
over on her side, seams dripping, and thrashed furiously along.

Her crew, squatting along the weather gunwale, turned bowed and shining
backs to the sloop.

Only the man at the tiller had seen her; and he made no sign.

The moon was on his face, black and white and bearded; and his eyes
on the sloop.

"Calm chap!" whispered one.

"Plucky meat," replied another. "Guts like a lion on him."

"Which is Black Diamond?" asked the boy.

"Him at the tiller, sir--moon on his face. He's seen us. 'Tothers
ain't--not yet."

The _Tremendous_ crashed into a sea. The aftmost man on the
lugger's gunwale turned.

He saw the Avenger towering over him, dark wings spread, snow-drifts
spurting before her.

An awful horror convulsed his face.

"King's ship!" came a ghastly-screaming treble. "Put back, Diamond!"

The man at the tiller never stirred. One lightning arm flashed forward.

"Down, George!" came a voice of thunder. "I'm going through."

There was a flash in the moon; the smothered crack of a pistol; and
a furious tumble of men aft.

"Gor! they're knifin him!"

"Their own skipper!"

"That's the Gap Gang!" rose in a groaning chorus from the bows of the
sloop.

IV

Splash followed splash.

The crew of the lugger were jumping for the long-boat.

The moon shone down mildly on savage waters, and a tumult of men.

All about the boat was a fury of fighting. Some were in it, some in
the water. Those within were slashing at the hands of those scrambling
in.

Every man was for himself, and every man against his neighbour. They
fought like beasts, beasts who could blaspheme.

Sin seen naked! Sin and its consequences!

Death-screams; bellowed blasphemies; howls for mercy rose as from the
pit.

"No room!--It's me, Joe!--Too many aboard!--Knife the ----!--I'm
done!--Elp us up!--Don't, George!"

Out of the torment of howls, oaths, prayers, came again the
ghastly-screaming treble.

"Cut the painter!"

A boy, the last on the lugger, afraid before to trust the water, jumped
now.

"Don't leave Jacky!" spluttered the thin boy's voice, tearful and
terrified; as the little shaven head bobbed up by the boat.

"Ands off!" screamed the treble. "We're sinkin a'ready. What, you
little ----! then ave it! ave it! ave it!"

A shrill squeal and then again that ghastly-screaming treble--

"Row, ye ----, row!"

Silence; tumbling waters; and the moon, sick with horror, darkened
suddenly.

CHAPTER VII

THE MAN IN THE LUGGER

I

The lugger came bowling on, one man in her stern.

"Diamond's bested em!" rose in a roar from the _Tremendous_.

And so it seemed.

The _Kite_ was making straight for the sloop, plunging giddily,
as though wounded.

"All hands aloft!" roared old Ding-dong. "Back tops'ls!"

There was a scamper of feet along the deck; and up the shrouds a scurry
of dark figures. Above was ordered bustle; from the deck a sounding
voice ruled all, as God rules the world.

"Canst use a pistol, lad?"

The words, swift as hail, smote Kit's ear.

"I don't know, sir," babbled the boy, sick with excitement.

A minute back Hell had yawned, and he had peeped in. He was still aghast.

"Then find oot!" fierce as a sword. "Joomp into t'mizzen-chains, and
pick off yon chap at the helm, as he cooms under ma counter."

He thrust a pistol into the boy's hands.

How limp the lad felt beside this masterful old man!

In another moment he was standing in the chains, the dark and giddy
waters swirling beneath him. The blood thumped in his temples.

Was it to be his St. Vincent? his chance?

The lugger came tearing up. He could hear the swish of the waters,
white at her foot; he could see the wet sail, the bucketing bows,
the fore-deck awash. She would pass bang beneath his feet. He could
see no man at the helm--only the jumping bowsprit, the thrashing foot,
and that huge lug-sail, bellying over the water.

Suddenly his mind flamed. In the white glare of it he saw the thing
to do, and had done it, before cold reason could check him.

He jumped.

The boat and giddy waters rose up to meet him. He fell as on to a
mattress, full of wind. It was the lug-sail he had struck. Down it
he sprawled to the deck, there to find himself upon his hands and knees,
something soft beneath him.

One man was in the boat; and that man was staring him in the face.

There was no mistaking him. He was black, with diamond eyes. The moon
was on his face; and about his lips a queer snarling smile.

Kit expected him to pounce; yet he did not, lolling back in the
stern-sheets, very much at his ease. The tiller under his arm wobbled,
and he wobbled with it. In spite of those staring eyes of his, there
was a dreadful unsteadiness about the man. Was he wounded?--was he
drunk?

Somehow the boy was not very much afraid. It was all too dream-like.
He heard his heart thundering far-away on the remotest shores of being.
He heard his own voice speaking, and was surprised at it--how steady
it was, and how small!

It was saying,

"I'm a King's officer. That's a King's ship. There are about a thousand
men on board. It's all no go. D'you give in?"

The man grinned sardonically. Then his head fell forward. He lurched
horribly. The tiller slipped from under his arm. The lugger fell away,
and lay on the water like a wounded bird.

Then Kit understood.

Black Diamond was dead.

II

The boy's mind relaxed like a burst bladder.

He began to laugh.

Where was he?

Alone on the deep with a dead man.

Well, well. It was not for the first time surely. A ghost, long-laid,
walked again. A sudden lightning had flashed upon his past. In it he
had seen and _remembered_. Something of a forgotten self floated
to the surface. In turmoil, his Eternal Mind had thrown up on the sea
of Time a memory from its imperishable hoard.

Slowly he recollected himself, and looked about him.

He was kneeling on something soft, and his hands were warm and slimy.
He looked down, and jerked back with a scream.

He was kneeling on a dead man, and his hands were crimson.

A gust caught the lugger: she staggered forward with a flap and swing
of her boom. Her master, her mate, was dead; and the spirit had gone
out of her.

No time for the horrors! he must be doing.

In a moment he was at work with his dirk. The great lug came down with
a rattle.

Forward under the boom, he cut the sheet of the jib. It fluttered
furiously, streaming lee-ward. Then he stumbled aft.

The murdered helmsman still lolled in drunken stupor, smiling inscrutably.

Astern the sloop lay with tall clothed masts, swaying, a phantom on
the troubled waters.

A boat had put off from her, and was bucking towards him.

"Lugger ahoy!" came a windy voice across the water. "Is that you,
sir?--all well?"

"I'm all right," cried the boy, and was ashamed to find his voice
cracked with emotion.

The boat bumped alongside. Reuben Boniface's face popped up over the
side.

"Plucky thing, sir!" he cried, bobbing with the boat; then seeing
the man at the tiller--"Ah, Bert! a fair cop."

"He's dead," said the boy with a sob.

"Dead!" cried the other, thrusting forward. "By thunder! so he is.
Boys, Black Diamond's dead!" He took the dead man by the hand. "Poor
old mate!" he continued in hushed voice. "Fancy that now. Diamond dead!"

Another head bobbed up.

"Did you kill him, sir?" asked an awed voice.

"No, I didn't. I think it was this man. He killed Black Diamond; and
Black Diamond killed him back."

His heart was swollen almost to bursting.

A row of heads now bobbed all along the side, staring at the dead man.
It awed them, this lay-figure with the dreadful stillness brooding
about it, rocking with the rock of the sea. They spoke of it with lowered
voices reverently.

"Funny thing--him so quiet. Don't seem nat'ral like."

"Warn't like that ten minutes since."

"That Black Diamond!--and can't lift his own hand now!"

"Ah, makes a change, Death, don't it?"

"One thing sure," ended a philosopher. "Like it or not--sooner or
later--in this world we all gets our desarts."

So these solemn children, big of the sea, brooded over the Great
Mystery. Here _they_ were in the dark, the night blind about them,
the old sea roaming round; and here was _It_. Dimly they tried
to apprehend _It_. Somehow _It_ made them feel strangely
small, and somehow strangely great.

Reuben was still pumping the dead man's hand up and down, the tears
coursing down his face.

"Poor old mate!" he kept saying. "He'd not ha been the same if things
had been different--would you, old mate?--I wish I'd ha shook hands
with you now, I do."

A shuddering voice spoke from the boat. It was the broken blockade-man.

"Ow much is he dead?" he asked.

"Why, dead as dirt," replied a matter-of-fact fellow, chewing his
pig-tail phlegmatically.

"Sure he ain't learying?" came the voice of the man with the shivers.

"You fear'd on him still, Alf?" asked one curiously.

"Fear'd on him?--No, I ain't fear'd on him!" came a ghastly titter.
"Got no cause, ave I?"

"He won't urt you," replied the other, soothingly. "He's dead all
right--ain't you, Diamond?--You can tweak his nose, see?--and then
go ome, and tell the gals what you done. Tweak Black Diamond by the
conk!"

"You let him be!" growled Reuben. "Time was you'd ha crawled
to him. Now any snotty little toad can make game on him."

Kit looked up at the rising voices.

A fellow had seized Diamond by the nose, plucking back his head.

The dead man's mouth gaped. Into the cavern of it shone the moon.

"One moment!" cried the boy; and hating himself, he thrust a finger
and thumb into the opening, and plucked out the thing which gleamed
within.

It was a cut-glass scent-bottle.

CHAPTER VIII

THE SCENT-BOTTLE

I

They came under the counter of the sloop, the boat towing the lugger,
and Black Diamond dead, the moon upon him.

A face, tallowy-nosed and black-whiskered, was leaning over the side.

"Say! was there a tall chap on a blood chestnut aboard?" asked a slushy
voice. "Andshomish feller--might be own brother to me. If so, pass
him up the side, there's a good biy. There's L1,000 on his head."

Kit went up the side, his heart beating high.

"Anything?" asked the old Commander shortly.

"Yes, sir."

He surrendered his treasure-trove.

"What! this all?" sniffed the old man, fingering the scent-bottle
contemptuously--"gal's fal-lal."

He stumped below.

The boy's heart was white-hot with indignation.

This then was his thanks!

Somebody tickled him under the arms.

"You're in the old man's good books, Sonny," said a hilarious voice.
"Wha d'you think he said when you plumped overboard?"

"I don't know. What?"

"'Nelson might ha done that,' says the old man--Bible-truth, he did."
And he shook out loose coils of laughter.

The compliment was so staggering that it humbled the boy.

A minute since he could have stabbed that old man with the stiff knee.
Now he could have kissed him.

"No! did he _really_?" he gasped.

The Gunner clutched the boy with one arm, and
tilting his chin, looked down at the uplifted face.

"There _is_ a look o the little man about the kid," he said--"kind
o gal-like look--all eyes, and spirit, and long chin. Funny thing!--I've
always noticed the best biys to fight are them as got most gal about
em."

The purser's steward tripped up.

"Mr. Caryll, sir, Commander Harding desires to see you in his cabin."

"Told you, Sonny," crowed the Gunner. "It's to give you a certificate
for valour, and a drop o brandy on a lump o sugar."

II

A purser's glim lit the cabin, bare save for a solitary print upon
the bulk-head.

Facing it stood the old Commander, broad as a wall, his hands behind
him, and the scent-bottle, unstoppered now, in one of them.

Kit recognised the face on the wall at once. It was Nelson's.

"That you, Mr. Caryll?"

"Yes, sir."

"Can ye read French?"

"A little, sir."

"Then what ye make o this?"

He thrust a hand behind him, never turning.

Kit took from it a tiny roll of tissue paper, and unfolded it.

"Shall I begin, sir?... It's headed _Merton, [Footnote: Merton was
at this time the seat of Lady Hamilton.] 17th, 2 a.m._, and goes
on--" he translated, stumbling--

_Everything is going beautifully. There is only one man for England
to-day; and for him there is only one woman. She is the absolute
master of her N., and he of Barham and the Board. The_ Victory
_is due to-morrow. She expects him here on Monday, and will do
all. The original plan holds good. He will be off Beachy Head
Thursday. The_ Medusa, 44.

_A.F._

_Keep the frigate cruising. I am off to Dover at dawn to square up
there. Diamond calls for me at the old rendezvous on Wednesday, and
puts me on board the frigate that I may be_ in at the death _as
our friends this side say._

The boy lifted dark eyes.

"It looks like a--"

The other cut him short.

"In our Service, sir, the Captain speaks when he's the mind; the First
Lieutenant all the time; and the midshipmen--_never_."

He snapped fierce jaws.

"What date, d'ye say?"

"Seventeenth."

"Seventeenth, _sir_.... That's to-day, ain't it?"

The old man grunted.

"Started this morning--sharp work."

"He was riding a thorough-bred ... sir."

"What's a furrow-bred?... plough-oss?"

"Plough-horse!" sparkling scorn. "It's the best sort of horse going."

"What if it be?--I'm a sea-man myself--not a postboy.... How d'ye know
he was ridin a what-d'ye-call-it?"

"He always does."

"Who does?"

"The man they call the Gentleman--the Galloping Gentleman."

"Who told you?"

"I picked it up, listening to the riding-officer."

The old man cocked an eye over his shoulder at the boy.

"I keep on a-listinin for that _sir_," he said. "Reck'n I'm hard
o hearin."

He resumed his study of the face on the bulk-head. A long while he
gazed: then smacked one fist into the other.

"That gal!" he muttered. "I always know'd how it'd be," and turned
at last.

Taking the paper from the boy, he packed it into the scent-bottle.

"When I've laid this here in Nelson's hands," he said deliberately,
"I'll be ready to say what your father said aboord the Don."

A curious smile made kindly wrinkles about his eyes: it was half
mischievous, half wistful: the smile of a child about to gratify an
innocent spite, long cherished.

Then he shoved the bottle into his breast-pocket, and looked up. The
light fell on his face; and for the first time Kit saw his Captain
fairly.

Square shoulders; square face; square chin; a square brow, strangely
white above the terra-cotta-coloured lower face; and blue eyes that
looked squarely into yours. All square, body and soul. A true man,
and a born fighter, the blue and white riband for St. Vincent at his
breast.

"When you joomped aboord the lugger, was you scared?" he asked curtly.

The boy looked him in the eyes.

"Yes, sir."

The old man's hand lay for a moment on his shoulder.

"So'd I ha been," he said, and went out, nodding.

III

On deck the dawn glimmered faintly.

On their lee, high in the heaven, a glowing smother hung in the dark
over a snaky brood, darting red tongues hither and thither.

"What's that?" growled old Ding-dong.

"The chaps as got away in the long-boat, sir. Set a light to the gorse
on Beachy Head. Signal. An old game o their'n."

The old man swung about.

As he looked, a blue light spurted seaward, and another answered it.

"Thought so," he muttered. "Burning flares."

Then he turned again.

"Bout ship!" he barked. "Make your course for Newhaven. Send a look-out
man aloft. And clear for action."

II

MAGNIFICENT ARRY

CHAPTER IX

THE TWO PRIVATEERS

I

A roll of thunder woke Kit.

Starting up on his elbows he looked about him.

Where was he?

Yesterday he had waked in the blue room at the White Cellar, the
sparrows chirping under the eaves, the smiling chamber-maid at the
door saying, "Half-past seven, sir," and the rumble of the Lewes
coach in the yard beneath.

It was an altogether different rumble that he heard now. He had never
heard it before; yet how well he knew it.

It was the roll of the drum, beating to quarters.

Across the sea a bugle answered it.

The boy thrust his head out of the port.

All about him lay a shining floor of sea, gently undulating and six
cable lengths away, bearing down upon the sloop, a black ship flying
the tricolour.

Across the bulk-head a sudden roaring voice boomed out an order.

There was the scuffle and scamper of naked feet; the noise of tackle
running, shot trundling along the deck, and the roll of guns.

Then all was silence but for the thumping of his heart, and the slop
of the water about her sides as the little _Tremendous_ footed
it into her last fight.

II

Kit rushed on deck.

The sloop, stripped to her topsails, was stirring the water faintly.

Only one man was on deck--old Ding-dong, conning the ship himself
bareheaded.

He was in a worn frock-coat, and faded yellow kerseymere waistcoat,
stained with soup and tar; and the hands on the wheel wore grimy kid
gloves.

There was such a dinginess about the old man's garments, and such a
dignity about his face, that Kit almost laughed to see him.

Last night the old Commander might have been a Channel pilot, in his
rough sea-jacket and sea-boots. Today he was a King's officer,
fighting a King's ship; and no mistaking it.

There was a change in his face too: something subtle, almost spiritual,
that the boy could feel although he could not define it. In fact the
explanation was very simple. Old Ding-dong was going into action,
and had brushed his hair first as was his invariable custom.

"Morn, Mr. Caryll," said the old man, never taking his eyes off his
topsails. "I was just going to send for you. You'll be my orderly
midshipman. We're in for a little bit o business. See them two?" He
jerked his head across the water.

Then Kit saw for the first time that two black monsters were sliding
down upon them over the shining waters, side by side. The nearer was
close on the larboard bow of the sloop; the other, on the same tack,
lay on her consort's far quarter. Their bows hardly rippled the water
as they stole forward. They seemed to flow with the flowing sea rather
than sail. Phantom-ships, they might have been creatures of the night,
surprised by day.

The boy could see nobody aboard. Save for the flapping of the tricolours,
and the occasional creak of a spar, they were still as death. The silence
and terror of their coming sickened the lad.

The voice of the old Commander, gruff and everyday at his elbow,
reassured him.

"Privateers," he growled--"old friends both. This'n's the _Cock-ot_.
Happen you've heard tell of her. That'n's the _Cock-it_.
Sister-ships. And 'ot and 'it they'll be afoor long if I can make em so."

He spun the wheel discreetly.

"At dawn I found em atween me and Newhaven. So I went about; I wasn't
on the fightin lay--half my ship's company short, and this here in
my pocket for Nelson." He tapped his breast.

"Thought I'd run for Dover. I was hardly off on that tack when I found
her"--with a backward jerk of his head--"athwart-hawse me."

Kit turned and saw a third ship, very tall, a league in their wake.

"Forty-four gun frigate," continued the old Commander. "Must ha given
somebody the slip. But what she's doin here along o them two pints
beats me."

"They must have been waiting to escort the lugger," ventured the boy.

"Happen so," said the other phlegmatically. "Well, they've got her
now--the husk, that is: I've kep the kernel," tapping his breast-pocket
once again. "I didn't want all three a-top o me at the first onset,
so I cut the lugger adrift, and set her bowling, helm lashd. As I reckoned,
the frigate stopped to pick her up. She won't be alongside for three
hours yet.... As to them two, we've been dodging about all morning,
but I reck'n we're about there now--just about. So-o-o!"

There was a roar and a huge splash beneath the stern of the
_Tremendous_. A cold avalanche sluiced the boy. He staggered
blindly back, something crashing on the deck about him.

"O!" he cried, and opened his eyes faintly, expecting to find himself
smothered with blood.

It was water, not blood, that was dripping from him.

The boy looked up in fear.

Old Ding-dong drenched too, the water trickling down his nose, still
nursed his ship tender as a mother.

There was not the ghost of a smile on his face, no curl of contempt
about his mouth.

Kit thanked him inwardly. After all the rough old fellow was a gentleman.

"Trying the distance with a bow-chaser," said the old man imperturbably.
"I'd have a lick back, only I can't spare no men for the deck carronades.
All below with Lanyon."

The tip of his tongue shot out, and made the journey of his lips,
cat-like. From behind that grim and weathered visage peeped the child,
arch, mischievous, infinitely cunning.

"Master Mouche, he _reckons_ I'm going to cross his bows and rake
him," he whispered. "He _reckons_ I'll keep my course to sarve
his consort the same. He _reckons_ to come up under my starn and
rake me fore and aft, while his consort wears ship and pounds me with
her broadside. That's his little game. 'Tain't mine though, ye know,
Mr. Caryll--'tain't mine." He rolled a blue eye on the boy; and in
that eye, twinkling cunning, bubbled the delight of a child about to
play a practical joke on an elder.

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