The Ocean Cat's Paw: The Story of a Strange Cruise

  CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT.

  A SHIP SURGEON.

  "Well, Mr Rodd, sir," said Captain Chubb, as he and the lad stoodwatching the regular dip of oars in the brig's two boats as they glidedback over the tranquil sea to where their vessel lay motionless in thecalm. "Well, Mr Rodd, sir, don't you wish you'd been born aFrenchman?"

  "No," cried the boy sharply. "I am thankful I was born English."

  "And so you ought to be, my lad. Of all the crackbrained, sentimental,outrageous chaps I ever met there's none of them comes up to aFrenchman."

  "Oh, you are too bad, Captain Chubb."

  "Too bad, eh? Why, aren't they always kicking up a dust and makingrevolutions, cutting off their kings' and queens' heads, and then goingto war with all the world, with their Napoleons and Bonapartes and allthe rest of them? Call themselves men!"

  "Why, you are as bad as uncle," cried Rodd merrily. "You and he oughtto be always the best of friends. But, if you speak fairly you must ownthat they are very gallant men."

  "Gallant men!" cried the skipper scornfully. "I don't call them men. Icall them monkeys! Men! Butchers, as cut off the head of theirbeautiful Queen Mary What-you-may-call-it, and then after shedding bloodlike that, sending no end of poor women who never did them a bit of harmto that guillotine. I'd be ashamed of myself, Mr Rodd, to take theirpart."

  "Oh, nonsense!" cried Rodd warmly. "I say that the Count and his sonhave proved themselves to be very brave fellows. Why, you owned as muchyourself about the way in which they escaped with the brig."

  "Oh, that was right enough," grumbled the skipper.

  "I am not going to deny," continued Rodd, "that there are plenty ofhorrible wretches amongst the French. And that Revolution was awful;but haven't we plenty of bad men amongst the English?"

  The skipper chuckled.

  "Well, yes, we have had some pretty tidy ones, if you come to read yourhistories. But I don't know so much about those chaps being brave. Itwas a very clever bit of seamanship, mind you, that taking the brig outin the teeth of the storm with hardly room to tack. I am not a badpilot in my way when I like to try, but I will be honest over it; Idaren't have tried that job. It was a very clean thing. But look here,my lad. It's no use for you to try and crack that up, because him whodid it must have been as mad as a hatter, and between ourselves, that'swhat I think that Count is."

  "Oh, fudge, captain!" cried Rodd. "No more mad than you or I."

  "Well, I can answer for myself, my lad," said the skipper, with achuckle, "but that's more than I'd do for you, for you do some preciousoutrageous things sometimes."

  "I?" cried Rodd.

  "Yes, you, my lad."

  "What a shame!" cried Rodd indignantly. "I defy you to prove that Ihave done anything that you could call mad. Now tell me something.What have you ever known me do that wasn't sensible?"

  "Oh, that's soon done," cried the skipper. "Didn't you go and gammonthe soldiers when they were after the escaped French prisoners? Don'tyou call that a mad act? Fighting against the laws of your country likethat!"

  "Ah, well, I suppose I oughtn't to have helped them, captain; but Icouldn't help it."

  "No, sir, and that's what the Frenchmen would say. Now, what in theworld is that chap after, with his mission, as he calls it? What doeshe mean by coming rampaging out south with a hole in the bottom of hisbrig and the pumps going straight on to keep the water down? Would anyone but a lunatic go risking his crew and his vessel like that?"

  "Well, it does seem rather wild," replied Rodd thoughtfully.

  "Wild? Well, that's only your way of saying he's stick, stark, staringmad. And here he's been out weeks and weeks, knowing as he says thathis brig was sinking, when he could have put in at Gib, or the Azores,or Las Palmas, or brought up in one of the West Coast rivers, where hecould run up on the tidal mud, careened his vessel, and set his ship'scarpenter to work to clap patches upon her bottom outside and in. Don'tyou call that mad?"

  "No. He might have had reasons for not doing so."

  "Ah, that's right, sir; argufy. You young scholarly chaps who have beento big schools and got your heads chock-full of Latin and Greek, you arebeggars to argufy--chopping logic, I suppose you calls it--and I givein. You could easily beat me at that; just as easily as I could turnyou round my little finger at navigation. But I'll have one more go atyou; I says that there French Count is mad."

  "And I say he is not," said Rodd, "only a brave, eccentric nobleman whomay have a good many more reasons for what he does than we know."

  "All right, youngster. I give you my side. Now that's yours. Now,just answer me this. Warn't it the crack-brainedest bit ofask-you-to-go-and-borrow-a-new-strait-waistcoat-to-put-me-in sort ofa job for him to bring his two boat-loads of men, like ablack-flag-and-cross-boned Paul Jones sort of a pirate, aboard ourschooner in the dark, thinking he's going to take possession of it touse instead of his own brig, when if he'd had any gumption he might havemanaged to patch her up, and--Here, I say, I can't go on talking likethis before breakfast, my lad. I must have my bowl of coffee and a bitof salt pork and biscuit before I say another word."

  "Oh, very well," cried Rodd merrily. "I see we shan't agree; and wedon't want to quarrel, do we, captain?"

  "Quarrel? Not us, my lad! It takes two to do that, and we knows oneanother too well."

  "Then look here," cried Rodd, "you are taking it very coolly and talkingabout breakfast; aren't you going to order the boat out and go aboardthe brig at once?"

  "I aren't a-going to do anything till I have had my breakfast," said thecaptain. "They've spoilt my morning snooze, but I aren't going to letthem spoil my morning meal, nor my lads' neither."

  "But it's urgent," cried Rodd. "Suppose while you are thinking ofeating and drinking the brig goes down?"

  "Yah! She won't go down. If she's floated for weeks like that she'llkeep her nose above water while I swallow two bowls of coffee. I can'twork without something to keep me going. Let them pump for anotherhalf-hour, and then we'll go."

  "We!" said Rodd sharply. "That means me too?"

  "Oh, ah, if you like to come; only we shall have to keep a sharplook-out."

  "What, for fear it should sink under us?"

  "Nay, I didn't mean that, my lad. I mean, you see, we are dealing witha lunatic."

  "Captain!" cried Rodd indignantly.

  "Ay, but we are, and there's no knowing what sort of games fellows likethat will be up to. I mean to give the mate strict orders to load allthree guns, and if he sees the Count coming off again with his two boatsfull of men to take possession while he's got us tight, to sink themwithout mercy. Ah, here's the stooard, welcome, as you might say, asthe flowers in spring. Come along, my lad, and let's lay in stores."

  In spite of his words and deliberate way of proceeding, Captain Chubbhad made his arrangements so that within half-an-hour of going down tobreakfast he had the schooner's boat lowered down with Joe Cross, fivemen, and the carpenter, who had already handed into the boat what hecalled his bag of tricks, the said tricks being composed of an adze,saws, chisels, augers, and nails, and very shortly afterwards the oarswere dipping, and with Uncle Paul and Rodd in the stern-sheets they weregliding over the glittering sea and rapidly shortening the distancebetween them and the beautiful brig, which won a string of encomiumsfrom the skipper as they drew near.

  "Yes, she is a beauty," he said. "It would be a pity to let her godown. Look at her lines, and the way she's rigged. If I wanted to saila brig I wouldn't wish for a better; but then, you see, I don't. She'sa bit low in the water, though, and no mistake. Well, we shall see; weshall see."

  The Count and his son were eagerly awaiting their coming, and welcomedthem warmly as they mounted the side, while, casting off his show ofindifference, the skipper cast an admiring glance round the deck of thebrig, and then gruffly exclaimed--

  "Now then, sir, I want your bo'sun. But look here, can he parleyEnglish?"

  "No," said the Count, "but my son
and I will interpret everything youwish to hear."

  "I don't know as I want to hear anything, sir," growled the skipper. "Iwant to see for myself, and after that mebbe I shall want to give a feworders, which I will ask you to have carried out."

  "Yes; everything you wish shall be done directly."

  "Umph!" grunted the skipper, looking round. "Pump rigged, and two mentrying to keep the water under. Ought to be four."

  "Yes, of course," cried the Count, and he turned to give an order; butCaptain Chubb clapped his hand upon his arm.

  "Hold hard," he said. "They'll do for a bit. Now then, I want to gobelow and sound the well."

  The Count and his son led the way below, the French crew standing aloofand displaying the discipline of a man-of-war, no man leaving his placewhile the skipper made all the investigations he required, and then cameup on deck with his mahogany face more deeply lined with wrinkles thanbefore.

  "Well, captain," said Uncle Paul, while Rodd, who had kept close to hisyoung friend of the Dartmoor stream, eagerly listened for what theirexpert had to say.

  "Well, sir," he said, at last, as he took out a little seal-skin bag anddeliberately helped himself to a little ready-cut scrap of pigtailtobacco, "your craft's in a bad way, and if something isn't done prettysmart she'll be down at the bottom before long."

  "Yes, yes," cried the Count impatiently, "but we have tried everything,and it is impossible to get at the leak."

  "Hah! Tried everything, have you, sir?"

  "Yes, yes," cried the Count. "Some of my brave fellows have beenhalf-drowned in diving, trying to plug from inside, using yards to forcebags of oakum into the holes."

  "Yes," said the skipper. "The ball went right through, I suppose?"

  "Yes, yes," cried the Count, and Rodd noted that he was having hard workto master his impatience and annoyance at the skipper's annoyinglydeliberate treatment of their urgent needs.

  "So I suppose," said the skipper coolly, "but mebbe you haven't donequite all; leastwise I should like to try my little plan, and if itdon't answer, why, you won't be any worse off than you are now; and whenI give it up as a bad job, why, you will have to take to your boats andwe shall have to find room for you aboard the schooner. Now then,please, you will just order two more men at that pump, and four moreready to take their places so as to keep on pumping hard."

  "Yes, yes," cried the Count eagerly. "What next?"

  "Order up what spare sails you've got from the store-room, and a fewcoils of new line."

  The Count gave his orders quickly, and his men went off to carry themout.

  "Good," said the skipper coolly. "That's smart."

  "What next?" cried the Count.

  "Well, sir, as quickly as I can, I want to do something to lighten theship."

  "No; I must protest!" cried the Count excitedly. "You are going tothrow the guns overboard?"

  "Humph!" grunted the captain. "Who said so? I didn't. Nay, that'd bea pity. I wouldn't do that till the very last."

  "Ah!" sighed the Count, as if deeply relieved.

  "Well, the next thing is, sir, just you leave me and my men alone andlet yours look on till I want their help."

  The Count was silent, and all looked on whilst in obedience to theskipper's orders the English sailors, led by the carpenter, set busilyto work, seized upon the new spare sails that were brought up on deck,and cast loose the coils of fresh hemp line that were placed ready.Then with the skipper putting in a word here and there, resulting in thelines being attached to the corners of the largest square-sail, theselatter were seized by a couple of the men, who dragged the sail forwardas the brig glided very gently along, for it was nearly calm, and thenpassing the new sail deftly beneath the bowsprit, two of the menclimbing out and seeming to cling with their feet to the bobstay untillittle by little they had got the edge right beneath the stay. Thenwhile their mates at the corners helped at the lines, they passed downthe sail right into the sea till they had lowered it to its full extentand they could do no more, save once or twice when they hung down fromthe stay and gave the canvas, which was slowly growing saturated, athrust or two with the foot where it seemed disposed to hitch againstthe brig's keel.

  And now the skipper took his post upon the bowsprit and gave his ordersby word or sign to the men who governed the movement of the great squareof canvas by means of the lines attached to the corners, the two at thefore corners of the sail getting outside the bulwarks, barefooted, towalk along the streak, and hauling just as much as was necessary to dragthe sail right beneath the keel, their two messmates preparing tofollow, and under the captain's guidance keeping all square and exact inthe effort to get the keel to act as the dividing line to mark theoblong into two exact portions.

  It was very slow work, for the canvas was stiff and moved unwillinglydownward beneath the keel; but after a time it began to yield to thesteady drag of the ropes upon the two fore corners, and, once started,progress began to be faster. For, so to speak, the brig began to help,sailing as it were gently more and more over the canvas, till at the endof about half-an-hour it was in the position at which the skipper hadaimed, having while below in the hold pretty well marked down theposition of the two holes made by the shot from the fort. These wereabout amidships, some few feet, as far as he could make out, on eitherside of the keel, one naturally being much higher than the other in thediagonal course taken by the heavy ball.

  At last he called to his men to halt, and took off his cap, to standthinking, the position now being that the sail was drawn right under thebrig, and the sailors at the four corners were holding on tight toprevent the vessel from sailing clear.

  So far not a word had been uttered by the Frenchmen, all of whom hadstood clear or mounted the rigging or deck-house, so as to give theEnglishmen ample room; but now in the silence Rodd advanced to theskipper eagerly, to say--

  "Are you sure you have got the canvas well over the holes?"

  Captain Chubb made no reply, but stood with his cap in his left handgazing aft, and then he moved his right arm two or three times, as ifforming an imaginary line through the brig's hull.

  "Did you hear me, captain?" said Rodd eagerly. "Are you sure you havegot the sail over the holes?"

  "No," granted the skipper. "Are you?"

  "No; but I thought--"

  "Yes, my lad; so did I. You thought we ought to get the sail in theright place."

  "Yes," said Rodd.

  "Well, then, now, my lad, I should be much obliged to you if you'd tellme which is exactly the right place."

  Rodd looked at him in despair.

  "Thank you, my lad," said the skipper dryly. "I am much obliged. Butall right, Mr Rodd; you can't tell, and I can't tell. We know that theball that came from the fort must have gone downwards a bit, so that itwent out from lower than where it went in; but there's no knowingwhether she was hit from starboard or from larboard, and that's whereI'm bothered. But never say die. I think we will make this bit ofcanvas fast now, for I'm pretty sure of one thing; it will be a plaisterfor one hole if it isn't for the other."

  "But look here, captain," cried Rodd.

  "What now?"

  "Won't the water run under the canvas just the same as it did before?"

  "No, my lad, it won't; and I'll tell you the reason why when we havedone. Of course you know I am not going to stop all the water fromcoming in below, but if I can get it checked a bit so that they can keepit down easy with one man at the pump instead of two, she won't go tothe bottom just yet, and they will have time enough to get into port toset the carpenter at work."

  "Then you won't let our carpenter try to stop the holes?"

  "No, my lad. You see, he never learned to be a fish, so that he couldwork under water; and though he's a bit of a crab in his way, I don'tthink he could manage it for all that. Now I'm ready to go on. Come,my lads, put your backs into it and haul them sheets tight. Here,master, let two of your men go to each corner and help my lads. Alltogether as hard as they can!" s
houted the skipper, and the Countquickly translated his order.

  "That's right! Haul away, my lads!" shouted the skipper. "That newcanvas won't give. Harder! Harder! Now then, one more--all youknow!--Make fast!"

  "Excellent! Superb!" cried the Count, as the men ceased from makingfast the ropes, which were brought over the bulwarks and passed roundthe belaying pins. "Do you think that will stop the leak?"

  "Maybe yes, sir; maybe no. If it don't do it we will put anotherplaister on, and another, and another. You have got plenty of sparesails and rope, and when we have used all yours I dare say we can findsome more in the schooner. Now then, set your men going at that pump,and rig up another as quick as you can."

  One pump began to clank heavily at once, and a short time after anotherwas at work, and the clear bright water began to sparkle out of thescuppers, while, moved as it were by the same spirit, the French crewburst into a shrill involuntary cheer.

  "How can I ever thank you, captain?" cried the Count, while his sonsnatched at Rodd's hand.

  "Ah, I haven't done yet, sir," said the skipper coolly. "This is only atry."

  "Oh, it's grand," cried the French lad, clinging to Rodd's arm. "Youhave saved our ship."

  "Don't you holloa till you are out of the wood, young fellow," said theskipper, as he heard the words. "Now, Mr Rodd, sir, what was it youwanted to know?"

  "Why the water will not still rim in underneath the canvas."

  "Only because of this, my lad. Aren't they pumping the water out now asfast as ever they can?"

  "Yes," cried Rodd; "but more will run in."

  "Yes, my lad, and as it runs in won't the weight of the water outsidepush the canvas closer and closer in round the leak?"

  "Yes, of course," cried Rodd. "I didn't think of that. And as theregets less inside it will seem to suck the canvas closer to."

  "Quite right, my lad. That's about the way it works; and now we havegot to wait for about an hour before we can know whether we have gotboth holes covered, or only one."

  "Wait for an hour?" cried Rodd.

  "Well, perhaps, before we are sure; but I dare say I shall be going downand sounding the well a time or two before that."

  But long before the hour had elapsed the skipper found that though thewater in the brig had subsided to a certain extent, one of the holesmust be still uncovered, and he began at once to repeat his proceedings,coming to the conclusion that one of the bullet-holes was beyond thereach of the canvas. This time, after all was drawn tight,half-an-hour's pumping proved that his surmises were correct, and theskipper smiled with satisfaction as the Count and his men cheered themin delight on finding after a good deal of pumping that there was a veryperceptible diminution of the water in the hold.

  "It is superb, and so simple," cried the Count to Uncle Paul; "but Ifeel humbled, sir. Why could not our French sailors have been able todo this?"

  "Well," said Uncle Paul good-humouredly, "the only reason I can give isthat they were not English."

  "That's it, sir," said the skipper. "You have hit the right nail on thehead. But look here, Mr Count--I don't know your name."

  "Des Saix," said the Count, smiling.

  "Look here, sir; this is nothing to make a fuss about. It will keep youafloat while the weather's fine, but just come a rough time, those sailswill be ripped off as easily as pocket-handkerchiefs. Besides, theywill hinder your sailing no end."

  "Ah, that is bad," said the Count, changing countenance.

  "Oh no, not it. There's worse disasters than that at sea."

  "But will it not be possible for the carpenters to stop the leaks?"

  "No, sir; not unless you do what I say."

  "Ah! What is that?"

  "Run your craft up one of the rivers to where you can careen on the mad,and then a few hours between tides will be enough to put everythingstraight."

  "Is there no other way?" asked the Count.

  "Only downwards, sir," cried the skipper; and the French lad glancedquestioningly at Rodd, who shook his head.

  "No," said the boy, almost in a whisper. "I don't think there is anyother way. He is quite right."

  After another hour's pumping, the skipper gave out his intention ofgoing back to the schooner; but the Count would not hear of it. Hebegged and implored Uncle Paul to give him their company at thebreakfast he was having prepared, and after a little hesitation thedoctor gave way, and suggested to the skipper that they should leavetheir departure till late in the afternoon, when a far better opinioncould be given of the state of the brig.

  "What do you say, squire?" said the skipper, looking at Rodd.

  "Oh yes, let's stay!" And his impulsive young French friend grasped himby the wrist.

  "Very well, gentlemen, I have only one thing to say, for I don't supposethe schooner will sail away and leave us behind. Let them call itdinner, and I'll stop. I aren't been in the habit of eating mybreakfast at two o'clock in the day."