CHAPTER XLVIII.
CAPTAIN HAMILTON MIGGS SEES A VISION.
Ezra Girdlestone had given many indications during his life, both inAfrica and elsewhere, of being possessed of the power of grasping asituation and of acting for the best at the shortest notice. He nevershowed this quality more conclusively than at that terrible moment, whenhe realized not only that the crime in which he bad participated hadfailed, but that all was discovered, and that his father and he werehunted criminals. With the same intuitive quickness which made him abrilliant man of business, he saw instantly what were the only availablemeans of escape, and proceeded at once to adopt them. If they could butreach the vessel of Captain Hamilton Miggs they might defy the pursuitof the law.
The _Black Eagle_ had dropped down the Thames on the very Saturday whichwas so fruitful of eventful episodes. Miggs would lie at Gravesend, andintended afterwards to beat round to the Downs, there to await the finalinstructions of the firm. If they could catch him before he left, therewas very little chance that he would know anything of what had occurred.It was a fortunate chance that the next day was Sunday, and there wouldbe no morning paper to enlighten him as to the doings in Hampshire.They had only to invent some plausible excuse for their wish toaccompany him, and get him to drop them upon the Spanish coast. Onceout of sight of England and on the broad ocean, what detective couldfollow their track?
Of course upon Sampson's return all would come out. Ezra reckoned,however, that it would be some time before the fisherman got back fromhis journey. What was a favourable wind going would be dead in histeeth coming back. It might take him a week's tacking and beating aboutbefore he got home. By that time Ezra hoped to be beyond the reach ofall danger. He had a thousand five pound Bank of England notes sewninto the back of his waistcoat, for knowing that a crash might come atany moment, he had long made provision against it. With this he feltthat he could begin life again in the new world, and with his youth andenergy he might hope to attain success. As to his father, he was fullydetermined to abandon him completely at the first opportunity.
Through the whole of that wintry night the fishing-boat scudded away tothe eastward, and the two fugitives remained upon deck, drenched throughwith rain and with spray, but feeling that the wild turmoil around themwas welcome as a relief to their own thoughts. Better the cutting windand the angry sea than the thought of the dead girl upon the rails andof the bloodhounds of the law.
Ezra pointed up once at the moon, on whose face two storm wreaths hadmarked a rectangular device.
"Look at that!" he cried. "It looks like a gallows."
"What is there to live for?" said his father, looking up with the coldlight glittering on his deep-set eyes.
"Not much for you, perhaps," his son retorted. "You've had your fling,but I am young and have not yet had a fair show. I have no fancy to bescragged yet."
"Poor lad!" the father muttered; "poor lad!"
"They haven't caught me yet," said Ezra. "If they did I questionwhether they could do much. They couldn't hang three for the death ofone. You would have to swing, and that's about all."
About two in the morning they saw a line of lights, which the fishermaninformed them was from the town of Worthing. Again before daybreak theyscudded past another and far brighter and larger area of twinklingpoints, which marked the position of Brighton. They were nearlyhalf-way upon their journey already. As the dawn approached the darkstorm-clouds gathered away to the northern horizon and lay in a greatshadow over the coast. On all other points the sky was clear, save thathere and there a single puff of white vapour sailed along like thefeather of some gigantic bird floating in the ocean of air.These isolated clouds, which had been pearly grey in the dim light ofearly day, gradually took a lilac tint, which deepened into pink, andthen blushed suddenly to a fiery scarlet as the red rim of the sun rosemajestically over the horizon. All the heaven was filled with colourfrom the palest, lightest blue at the zenith to the most brilliantcrimson in the east, as though it were nature's palette on which she haddashed every tint that she possessed. The sea reflected the rich glow,and the tossing waves were gashed with scarlet streaks. "It looks likea sea of blood," the merchant remarked with a shudder, as he gazed atthe wonderful spectacle.
By the returning light the two fugitives were able to notice eachother's appearance. Both were pale, haggard, dishevelled, withbloodshot, dark-rimmed eyes and anxious, weary faces.
"This won't do!" remarked Ezra. "If Miggs sees us like this he'll smella rat."
He dipped a bucket overboard, and after some search a small piece ofsoap and a broken comb were extracted from one of the lockers.With these materials they managed to perform their toilets.They re-arranged and cleaned each other's clothing too, and Ezrapurchased a yachting-cap from Sampson for his father, the jaunty natureof which contrasted strangely with the old man's grim angular visage.
"There's a fine view!" Sampson observed, pointing towards the land, justas his two passengers had finished their toilet.
They were passing a high range of cliffs which ran along for a greatdistance. Some were of chalk and others were brownish, as thoughconsisting of some sort of earth. There was one which terminated theline towering up above the rest, and as remarkable for the boldness ofits outline as for its height. A lighthouse stood upon the summit, andthe whole showed up so clearly in the bright morning air that thefugitives could see the green grass round the house and thecoastguardsman at the signal station, who was strolling leisurely aboutand looking down from his elevation at their little craft. To theeastward of this chalk promontory was a large fine-looking town, whichstretched in a wide semicircle round the shores of a curving bay.
"That's Beachy Head," said Sampson, pointing at the cliff. "It's thehoiest p'int down Channel, and they have a look-out place up there toreport ships as pass. It was a Muster Lloyd as put it up. I doan'tknow who he be, that same Muster Lloyd, but he do seem to take apowerful deal of interest in everythink which has to do wi' shipping.He's an admiral belike, or something o' the sort."
Neither of the Girdlestones appeared inclined to enlighten him upon thepoint.
"What's the town?" asked Ezra.
"Eastbourne," the fisherman answered shortly, and lounged away into thebows, while his son remained at the tiller.
The two fugitives had their breakfast; but as it consisted of nothingmore appetising than tinned corned-beef and ships' biscuits, and asneither of them had much inclination for food, it was not a very lengthymeal. Then they sat in the sheets once more, watching the grandpanorama of green woodland and swelling down and towering cliff, whichpassed before them on the one side while on the other the great oceanhighway was dotted with every variety of vessel, from the Portland ketchor the Sunderland brig, with its cargo of coals, to the majesticfour-masted liner which swept past, with the green waves swirling roundher forefoot and breaking away into a fork of eddying waters in herwake.
Ezra cautioned his father to sit down, for he observed a row of curiousfaces gazing at them over the quarter of one great vessel.
"Our dress isn't quite what you would expect to see in a fishing-boat,"he said. "There is no use setting tongues wagging." There was still afresh breeze, and the little boat continued to fly before it at the rateof six or eight knots. "This wind is a lucky chance," Ezra remarked,rather to himself than to his companion.
"It is the working of Providence," answered John Girdlestone, with anearnestness which showed that his mind still retained its habitualpeculiarity.
By ten o'clock they were abreast of the long stone terraces of Hastings;at half-past eleven they saw the masts of the fishing-smacks ofWinchelsea. By one they were rounding the sharp bold promontory ofDungeness. They kept further to sea after that, so that the long whitewall and the spires of Folkestone and of Dover lay far on the horizon.On the other side a dim haze upon the blue water marked the position ofthe French coast. It was nearly five, and the sun was beginning to sinkdown again in the west, when the fisherm
an, after gazing steadily aheadfor some time, with his horny hand shading his eyes, touched Ezra on thesleeve.
"See them breakers over there," he said, pointing over the starboardbow. Far away Ezra could see a long roll of foam breaking the monotonyof the broad stretch of ocean. "Them's the Goodwins," he went on; "andthem craft ahead is at anchor in the Downs."
The vessels in question were miles away, but Ezra brightened up at thesight of their destination, and he once again arranged his toilet andthat of his father.
"Thank goodness!" he muttered, with a long sigh of relief as he peeredat the ships, which were growing clearer and larger every moment."That outer one is the _Black Eagle_, or I am much mistaken. He's notgone yet!"
"That is the _Black Eagle_," his father said with confidence. "I knowher by the cut of her stern and the rake of her masts."
As they came nearer still, any lingering doubt was finally dispelled.
"There's the white paint line," said Ezra. "It's certainly her.Take us alongside that ship which is lying to the outside there,Sampson."
The fisherman looked ahead once more. "To the barque which has just gother anchor up?" he said. "Why, we won't be in time to catch her."
"Her anchor up!" screamed Ezra. "You don't mean to tell me she'soff!"
"Look at that!" the man answered.
As he spoke they saw first one great square of canvas appear above thevessel, and then another, until she had spread her white wings to theirfullest extent.
"Don't say we can't catch her!" cried Ezra, with a furious oath."I tell you, man, that we must catch her. Everything depends on that."
"She must take three short tacks before she's out from the Goodwins.If we run right on as we are going, we may get near her before she'sfree."
"For God's sake! clap on all the sail you can! Get these reefs out!"With trembling fingers Ezra let out the sail, and the boat lay overfurther under the increased pressure. "Is there no other sail that wecould put up?"
"If we were running, we could rig up a spinnaker," the fishermananswered; "but the wind has come round three points. We can do nomore."
"I think we are catching her," John Girdlestone cried, keeping his eyesfixed upon the barque, which was about a mile and a half ahead.
"Yes, we are now, but she hain't got her way on yet. She'll draw aheadpresently; won't she, Jarge?"
The fisherman's son nodded, and burst into hoarse merriment."It's better'n a race," he cried.
"With our necks for a prize," Ezra muttered to himself.
"It's a little too exciting to be pleasant. We are still gaining."
They had a clear view of the dark hull and towering canvas of the barqueas she swept along in front of them, intending evidently to takeadvantage of the wind in order to get outside the Goodwins beforebeating up Channel.
"She's going about," Sampson remarked. As he spoke the snow-white pilelay over in the opposite direction, and the whole broadside of thevessel became visible to them, every sail standing out as though carvedfrom ivory against the cold blue sky. "If we don't catch her on thistack we won't get her at all," the fisherman observed. "When they putabout next they'll reach right out into the Channel."
"Where's something white?" said Ezra excitedly. He dived into the cabinand reappeared with a dirty table-cloth. "Stand up here, father!Now keep on waving it! They may see you."
"I think as we are overhaulin' of them," remarked the boy.
"We're doing that," his father answered. "The question is, will we getnear enough to stop 'em afore they gets off on the next tack?"
The old merchant was standing in the bows waving the signal in the air.His son sprang up beside him and flourished his handkerchief."They don't look more than half a mile off. Let us shout together."The two blended their voices in a hoarse roar, which was taken up by theboatman and his son. "Once again!" cried Ezra; and again their shoutresounded over the sea--a long-drawn cry it was, with a ring of despairand of sorrow. Still the barque kept steadily on her way.
"If they don't go about we shall catch them," the fisherman said."If they keep on another five minutes we are right."
"Do you hear that?" Ezra cried to his father; and they both shouted withnew energy and waved their signals.
"They're goin' about," George burst in. "It's all up." Girdlestonegroaned as he saw the mainyard swing back. They all strained theireyes, waiting for the other to follow. It remained stationary.
"They have seen us!" cried the fisherman. "They are waitin' to pick usup!"
"Then we are saved!" said Ezra, stepping down and wiping theperspiration which poured from his forehead. "Go down into the cabin,father, and put yourself straight. You look like a ghost."
Captain Hamilton Miggs had found the liquor of the _Cock and Cowslip_ sovery much to his taste, in spite of its vitriolic peculiarities recordedin a preceding chapter, that he rejoined his ship in a very shaky anddemoralized condition. He was a devout believer in the homoeopathicrevelation that like may be cured by like, so he forthwith proceeded toset himself straight by the consumption of an unlimited quantity ofship's rum. "What's the good of having a pilot aboard if I am to keepsober?" he hiccoughed to his mate McPherson. After which piece of logiche shut himself up in his cabin and roared comic songs all the way fromLondon to Gravesend. He was so exhausted by his performance that hefell fast asleep, and snored stertorously for fifteen hours, at the endof which time he came on deck and found that the _Black Eagle_ was lyingoff Deal, and that her anchor was just being hoisted for a start upChannel.
Captain Hamilton Miggs watched the sail-setting with his hands in hispockets, and swore promiscuously at every one, from the mate downwards,in a hearty comprehensive way, which showed a mind that was superior topetty distinctions. Having run over all the oaths that he could thinkof, he dived below and helped himself from the rum bottle, a processwhich appeared to aid his memory or his invention, for he reappearedupon deck and evolved a new many-jointed expletive at the man at thewheel. He then strode in gloomy majesty up and down the quarter-deck,casting his eyes at the sails and at the clouds in a critical waycalculated to impress the crew generally with a sense of their captain'sextraordinary sagacity.
The _Blank Eagle_ had gone about for the second time, and was just aboutto free herself from the Goodwins and reach out into the Channel, whenMiggs' eye happened to fall upon the fishing boat in pursuit and thewhite flutter in her bows. He examined her with his glass, steadying itas well as he could by leaning it across the rail, as his hand was veryshaky. After a short inspection, a look of astonishment, followed byone of resignation, stole over his features.
"I've got them again, Mac," he remarked to the mate.
"Got what, sir?"
"The diddleums, the jumps, the visions. It's the change of air as hasdone it."
"You look all right," remarked the mate in a sympathetic voice.
"So I may; but I've got 'em. It's usually rats--rats, and sometimescockroaches; but it's worse than that this time. As I'm a livin' man, Ilooked through the glass at that fishing-boat astern of us, and I sawyoung Muster Ezra Girdlestone in it, and the old boss standin' up wi' ayachtin'-cap at the side of his head and waving a towel. This is thesmartest bout that ever I have had. I'll take some of the medicine leftfrom my last touch and I'll turn in." He vanished down the companion,and having taken a strong dose of bromide of potassium, tumbled into hisbunk, cursing loudly at his ill luck.
The astonishment of McPherson upon deck was as great as that of CaptainMiggs, when, on looking through the glass, he ascertained beyond alldoubt that both of his employers were in the fishing-boat. He at onceordered the mainyard to be hauled back and awaited their arrival. In afew minutes the boat was alongside, a ladder thrown down, and the twoGirdlestones were on the deck of their own ship.
"Where's the captain?" asked the head of the firm.
"He's below, sir. He's no very salubrious." The mate's love of longwords rose superior to any personal emotion.
"You can square the yard," said Ezra. "We are going with you."
"Ay, ay, sir. Square away that yard there!" It swung round intoposition, and the _Black Eagle_ resumed her voyage.
"There is some business to be looked after in Spain," Girdlestoneremarked to McPherson. "It came up suddenly or we should have given younotice. It was absolutely necessary that we should be there personally.It was more convenient to go in our own vessel than to wait for apassenger ship."
"Where will you sleep, sir?" asked the mate. "I doubt theaccommodation's no very munificent."
"There are two settees in the cabin. We can do on them very well.I think we can't do better than go down there at once, for we have had along and tiring journey."
After they had disappeared into the cabin, McPherson trod the deck forthe remainder of his watch with a grave and a thoughtful face. Likemost of his countrymen he was shrewd and long-headed. It struck himthat it was a very strange thing for the two partners to be absent atthe same time from their business. Again, where was their luggage?Grave misgivings arose in his mind as to the reason of it all. He keptthem to himself, however, and contented himself with remarking to thecarpenter that in all his experience he had never met with a more"monumentous episode."