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<h3>Chapter Twenty.</h3> <h4>The Seventh of November.</h4> “My faithful negro, however,” continued the colonel, pausing at this point to puff out another cloud of smoke from his fragrant cigar,—“well, he was unable to learn anything of the Haytians, though he tried to make friends of them, for they always stopped their talk amongst themselves on his approach, and would only reply to his overtures in monosyllables expressive of distrust, accompanied by contemptuous gestures that angered poor Cato greatly, for as he considered that he belonged to me he felt the insult to be directed not only at himself but at the whole family. “‘Golly, massa!’ he said to me after a couple or so of attempts that proved fruitless to ingratiate himself into the confidence of the gang, ‘you just wait; I catch dem black raskils nappin’ by-an’-bye, you see, massa. You see, “speshly dat tarn markiss!”’ “He managed this sooner than he thought, and pretty smartly too, for the very next day he caught the noble scoundrel, who was his particular aversion, walking off with a pair of pistols from Captain Alphonse’s cabin. On Cato coming up and stopping him in the very act, the ‘marquis’ put down the pistols quickly, saying in his off-hand manner that he was merely examining the locks, remarking how well they were made. ‘But,’ said Cato, ‘guess he no bamboozle dis chile!’ “The following day, sirs, was the seventh of November, last Friday, that awful, that terrible day! “Cato, who had been away forward early in the morning to see about our breakfast, came back aft with a terrified face. “‘Yay, massa,’ said he, ‘guess dose tam niggars up to sumfin’! I’se hear um say dey smell de lan’ an’ de time was ’rive to settle de white trash, dat what dey say, an’ take ship. One ob de tam raskel see me come out of gully, an’ say cut um tongue out if I’se tell youse, massa!’ “Of course on hearing this I put Captain Alphonse immediately on his guard, and we locked up all the spare arms and ammunition until we should require the same, excepting our own revolvers and three other pistols, which we served out to the two mates and the boatswain, all of whom were good men and brave Frenchmen. Monsieur Boisson, when he was asked if he would have one, shrugged his shoulders and said he was a simple passenger, he did not understand fighting—it was not his affair; while little Mr Johnson said he was an Englishman and preferred using his fists. Don Miguel had a pistol of his own. “Jingo! The emergency we dreaded came soon enough, sir; indeed, sooner than we expected, and it was fortunate we had been forewarned! “It was just after the noontide hour, I recollect that well, for Captain Alphonse had just taken the altitude of the sun to ascertain our position, when, as he came up from his cabin where he had gone to consult his chronometers and work out ‘the reckoning,’ as you sailors call it, that that black devil the ‘marquis’ mounted the poop with a simpering and fawning air. “‘Ah well, captain,’ said he, with a very polite bow, ‘where do you make us out to be, monsieur? Near the Bermudas yet?’ “‘My word, yes,’ replied Captain Alphonse. ‘We are some ten leagues or so the westward of the islands, but we’re bearing up now, as you see, to reach them.’ “‘And what time, monsieur,’ said the ‘marquis,’ speaking louder so that some of the other niggers who were on the deck below could hear what he said. ‘Do you think it will be possible for us to land? My companions and myself, monsieur, as you can well imagine, are most anxious to get ashore as soon as possible, so that we may procure a ship to take us on to Havana.’ “‘But, yes, your anxiety is natural enough,’ responded poor Captain Alphonse, suspecting nothing from this. ‘I hope to approach near enough to Port Saint George to put you ashore some time in the afternoon.’ “‘Ohe, below there!’ cried out the Haytian in reply to this, addressing his companions in the waist, who, I noticed, were gradually edging themselves more and more aft. ‘Do you hear that, my brave boys? We are going to land at last. Get the boat ready!’ “This was evidently a signal, for he shouted out the last words in a still higher key than that in which he had been speaking. “‘You need not hurry, my friend!’ said the captain, surprised at this order and smiling at the Haytian’s impulsiveness, as he thought it. ‘There will be plenty of time for lowering the boat when we come in sight of land.’ “‘I think differently, monsieur,’ rejoined the other, scowling and assuming an arrogant tone for the first time. ‘I say the time is Now!’ “This he yelled out at the top of his voice. “Instantly the gang of blacks made a rush at the poop on both sides at once, and Captain Alphonse clutched at his revolver, which he had in his pocket, but was unable to get it out in time. “Mine, however, was in my hand and ready cocked.” “Houly Moses!” ejaculated Garry O’Neil, his Irish blood making him all attention now at the mere mention of fighting. “I hope ye let ’em have it hot, sor! “Guess I did!” replied Colonel Vereker grimly, dropping unconsciously into his native vernacular, which up to now he had almost seemed to have forgotten from his long residence amongst a Spanish-speaking race. “You may bet your bottom dollar on that, sir! I aimed at that scoundrel the ‘marquis,’ but he jumped backward in his fright and his foot catching in one of the ringbolts, he tumbled right over the poop-rail on to the deck below; the shot I had intended for him dropping the black pilot, his constant companion, and who was invariably behind him. He dropped down as dead as a herring! “Don Miguel, who luckily had just come up from the saloon, being handy with his revolver from the rough times he had experienced, like myself, in Venezuela, settled another darkie; while little Johnson, the Englishman, caught up a long hand-spike, bigger than himself, and with it knocked down two of the Haytians to his own cheek. “Madame Boisson, meanwhile, was screaming for her husband, her brave Hercules, to come to the rescue; but the ‘brave Hercules’ had locked himself in his cabin, as my little Elsie told me afterwards; for fortunately the poor child was not feeling well and I had desired her to remain below during the hot noontide heat of the sun; and, she also said, she could hear him crying and sobbing and calling down imprecations on everybody, including ‘my wife’ and himself for both being in such a position, Madame Boisson hammering at the door all the time, and, after finding he would not reopen to her appeal for help, apostrophising him as a coward! a pig! “During this time we were pretty busy on deck, the second mate, Basseterre, and another French seaman, who was with him in the crossjack yard, having come down from aloft to our assistance. Captain Alphonse got his revolver out, when he and Don Miguel and I giving them a volley altogether, and the others supporting us with what weapons they had, we rushed the rascals off the poop quicker than they came up, the lot returning to the forecastle along with the ‘marquis,’ who, I was very glad to see, had cut his face considerably by his tumble. “Captain Alphonse thereupon, seeing the coast clear, sang out for Housi, his second officer, and the boatswain, who he thought were away forward, to come up aft and join us, so that we might all be together, but instead of these men, Cato, my own black servant ran up the poop-ladder and told us in much trepidation that Monsieur Housi, with the boatswain Rigault and one of the French sailors, were imprisoned in the forepeak, while the two white sailors and the steward were hard and fast in the main hold, whither they had descended to get some provisions, the mutineers slipping on the hatchway cover over them, on the ‘marquis,’ that devil, giving the signal!” “Ah, my poor fellows!” cried Captain Alphonse. “That, then, means there are only ourselves left. Good heavens! What shall we do?” “Why, hoist a signal of distress,” I suggested at once. “We are near Bermuda, on the cruising ground of the English men-of-war; and as these scoundrels have no friends or assistance, I daresay we’ll be able to hold out here until some vessel bears up to our aid!” “‘Good, my friend,’ replied Captain Alphonse, who with Basseterre, the second mate, and Don Miguel, remained to keep guard with their revolvers, both seated on top of the skylight hatchway, which commanded the approaches to the poop by way of the ladders, while I, with the last of the white sailors, ran aft. Then I called out, ‘Hoist the French flag!’ “I knew that the locker with the flags was in the wheel-house, close to the taffrail, and there being no one to interfere with us, the negro who had been attending the helm having bolted the moment I pulled out my revolver at the first alarm, the traitor flying to join the other mutineers, my sailor and I soon ferretted out an old ensign, the Tricolour; when, binding it on to the signal halliards, we hoisted it about half-way up the peak of our spanker, whence it could best be seen by a passing ship.” “Did you know what that signal meant, colonel?” said Captain Applegarth in an inquiring tone, “that you had a death aboard, eh?” “Si, señor. Oh yes, of course,” repeated the colonel, correcting himself almost as soon as he spoke for his lapse again into the Spanish tongue. “There were half a dozen dead Haytians there, whom, by the way, Captain Alphonse and I presently pitched over the side! But, beyond that, sir, I believe all sailors regard a flag hoisted in that way, ‘half-mast high,’ as it is termed, to be a signal of distress! “Without doubt, sir,” answered the skipper. “I was only testing your nautical experience, that’s all!” “I am glad then, I did not make a blunder about it, as I thought I had done from your question,” returned Colonel Vereker, quite seriously, not noticing that the skipper was only poking fun at him in his way and did not mean anything beyond a bit of chaff. “Well, sir, after hoisting the flag the French sailor and I seized the opportunity to lash the helm amidships so as to keep the Saint Pierre on her course, for we could not spare him to do the steering, and Captain Alphonse and Don Miguel, with the plucky little Englishman and myself, had all our work to do watching the mutineers with our revolvers! “After a time, as the rascals kept pretty quiet in their part of the ship, and as my poor little daughter Elsie had been a long time now shut up below, I thought she might come up on the poop to get a breath of fresh air while it was still light; there being no fear of the blacks assailing us again so long as they knew we could see to shoot straight and had our weapons handy! “So I sent Cato down to fetch her on deck, and she came up the next moment, all full of curiosity and alarm, as you may imagine, the little one wanting to know what had occurred; for the reports of my revolver and the subsequent stillness had occasioned her great fright, Madame Boisson and her husband, the ‘brave Hercules,’ being but poor comforters. “All at once, while I was explaining to her about the flag, telling her that we had hoisted it in order to summon any passing ship to our assistance, she suddenly went to the side and looked over the bulwarks towards the north. “The next moment she gave vent to a cry of joy. “‘Oh, my father,’ she suddenly exclaimed. ‘You have only just hoisted the flag in time. There’s a big steamer! Look, look! there it is, and coming up to help us!’ “‘Where? where? Where is it? I cannot see it. Nonsense, Elsie; you are dreaming, my child!’ I said, looking out eagerly to where she pointed, but could see nothing. ‘There’s no ship there, little one!’ and I felt angry at the false alarm. “‘But, my father, you are wrong,’ still insisted the child, as positive as you please. ‘I can see the vessel there in the distance quite plainly. See how the black smoke comes puffing out of the chimneys.’ “I laughed at this. “‘Little darling,’ said I, ‘there was no ship, and there are no “chimneys” on board ships at sea. Sailors call them funnels, my dearest one.’ “She pretended to pout on my thus catching her tripping in her talk. “‘Well, my father,’ said she, with a shrug of her shoulders, as is her habit sometimes, ‘I may be wrong about the chimneys, but I am not wrong about seeing a ship. Why, my father, there she is now, coming closer and closer, and quite near; so near that I can see—yes, I can see—I am quite sure—a big boy there. Look, look, father, dear! There he is in front of the smoke. He has quite a pleasant face.’ “Elsie turned in my direction as she spoke, and, though I was still gazing all the while, I could see nothing, and I was vexed, very vexed with my little girl for her persistency in the matter. “‘Why, it has gone—quite disappeared!’ she cried out the instant after, on rushing to the side and looking over. ‘What does it mean? Why did she not come and help if she saw the flag?’ “‘You have dreamt it, little one,’ I replied shortly, as I had done before. ‘It’s a freak of the imagination, and you fancied it, you funny little woman.’ “But it was a curious incident, though, sir, was it not, at such a time, with our hearts all full of expectancy and hope?” Captain Applegarth was greatly excited by the narrative, and so, it may readily be believed, was I. He asked abruptly, “When did this happen? Tell me, colonel, at once. It is strange—very so!” The other looked up with surprise, while Mr Stokes stared at him with wonder, and the Irishman opened his big blue eyes wide to the full. “I have already told you, sir,” replied Colonel Vereker very quickly. “As I told you before, it was the seventh of November—last Friday.” “Yes; but I mean what time of the day, sir?” “Oh, I should think about five o’clock in the afternoon. Perhaps a little later, as the sun was going down, I recollect, at the time.” I could not restrain my astonishment at this. “It must be the very ship I saw!” I thought to myself. “Is the young lady slight in figure, and has she long golden-coloured hair hanging loose about her head, sir?” I eagerly asked, almost breathless in my excitement. “And, tell me too, did she have a large black Newfoundland or retriever dog by her side that same evening, sir?” Colonel Vereker seemed even more astonished by this question of mine than I had been by his reply to Captain Applegarth the moment before. “My brave young sir,” said he, using this somewhat grandiloquent form of addressing me, I suppose, in remembrance of the slight service I had done him by swimming with the line to the drifting boat when we picked up him and his companion. “My little Elsie is tall and slight for her age, and her hair is assuredly of a golden hue, ah, yes! like liquid sunshine; though, how you, my good young gentleman, who, to my knowledge, can never have seen her face to face in this life, can know the colour of her hair or what she is like, I must confess that passes my comprehension!” “But the dog, sir?” “That is stranger still,” remarked Colonel Vereker. “I had forgotten to mention that I brought with me on board the Saint Pierre from my old home at Caracas a splendid Russian wolf-hound, as faithful a creature as my poor negro servant Cato. His name is Ivan, and he is now, I sincerely hope and trust, guarding my little darling girl, as I would have done if I had remained with her, for not a living soul would dare to touch her with him there. Ivan would tear them limb from limb first. He is a large greyish-black dog, with a rough shaggy coat, and in reply to your enquiry, I must tell you he was on the poop of the ship, by the side of my child, at the very time that she declared she saw that steamer, which I, myself, could not see anywhere!” For the moment I was unable to speak. I was so overcome at this unexpected confirmation of the sight I had seen on that eventful Friday night, though I had afterwards been inclined to disbelieve the evidence of my own senses, as everybody else had done, even the skipper at last joining in with the opinion of Mr Fosset and all the rest, save the boatswain, old Masters. Yes, yes; every one them imagined that I had dreamt of “the ghost-ship” as they called my vision, and that I had not seen it at all! But this statement from the colonel absolutely staggered the skipper, and he looked from me to the American and back again at me in the most bewildering manner possible; the old chief, Mr Stokes, and Garry O’Neil staring at the pair of us with equal amazement. “By George, the girl and the dog, the girl and the dog. Why, it’s the very same ship, as you say, Haldane; it must be so, and, by George, my boy, you were right after all! By George, you were!” at length exclaimed the skipper in a voice, the genuineness of whose astonishment could not be doubted. “Colonel Vereker, I would not have credited this had any one told it me and sworn to the truth of it on oath, but the proof is so strong that I cannot possibly disbelieve it, sir, though it is to my mind a downright impossibility according to every argument of common sense. It is certainly the most wonderful thing that has ever happened to me, and the most wonderful thing that I have ever heard of since I have been at sea!” “Heavens!” cried the other. “But why? You surprise me, sir.” “Aye, colonel,” rejoined the skipper. “But I am going to surprise you more. Now don’t laugh at me, and don’t think me an idiot and gone off my head, sir, when I tell you that this lad, Dick Haldane, here, whether by reason of some mirage or other I cannot tell, for it’s beyond my understanding altogether, distinctly saw your ship with her signal of distress, and says he saw your little daughter with the dog by her side, aboard her, last Friday night at sunset. More than that, sir, he described to me at the time, exactly as you have done now, colonel, everything he saw, even to the very hue of the young girl’s hair and the colour and texture of the dog’s coat! It is altogether marvellous and, indeed, incredible!” “Well, but—” said Colonel Vereker slowly, and pausing between every word as if trying to comprehend it all. “Why, how is that, sir?” “Your ship, colonel, must have been more than five hundred miles away from ours at the time—that is all!” <hr> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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