Part 7

"Let the beasts bite," said Ralph coolly; "you cannot have them there without them doing something, you darned fool! How do you expect to get past the sentry if you go on like that? Buck up and bear it."

At this point the cock gave an unnatural guttural cry. Ralph exhorted his companion to keep the thing quiet. He replied he couldn't, and that he would stand it no longer.

"Well," said Ralph, "if you won't stand it you won't have fowl for breakfast."

"Oh, darn the breakfast! I must let them go. Help me to unbutton, for if I move they'll go mad again."

The birds were taken from their concealment. Ralph secured two, twisted their necks, stuffed one into his own nether garment, and informed the mate that he should have adopted this plan of quietening them at first.

"Here," said he, passing him the other dead hen, "two makes it far over bulky; you stow it away in yours."

"No fear," said Mr Munroe, "I'll never touch or eat a bit of fowl again as long as I live. My sufferings are too great."

"Why that's rotten nonsense," said the resourceful half-marrow; "the thing's dead."

"I don't care," responded the penitent thief, "I'll never handle them again, dead or alive. Oh, Christo, I am smarting!"

"Hold your blether about smarting and suffering, you fool, or you'll get me nabbed," replied Ralph, who had now concealed both roosters.

The two escorts were by this time well nigh paralytic with laughter. As they drew near to where the slumbering sentry stood, the chief officer caused great anxiety by the style of walk he was forced to assume. Ralph implored him not to go along as though he expected swine to pass between his legs, and not to put on such an agonized look. He coaxed him by the promise that he himself would attend to his wounds as soon as they got safely aboard. The good-hearted soul took infinite trouble in his rough way to fulfil the pledge he had given. They were not intercepted by the military gentleman who guarded the destiny of the port, and as soon as their feet were planted on deck Ralph exclaimed, "Now we're safe." Jack has an inherent belief in the sacredness of British territory, either floating or otherwise. He is a stout upholder of British supremacy, and conformity to the laws of other nations does not appeal to him. His creed is undisguised, and has been handed down as an heirloom from the great naval hero who smashed the combined fleets of Spain and France at Trafalgar. Here it is: "Fear God, and hate a Frenchman as the devil hates holy water." The average sailor continues to believe this to be an edict which alone can assure patriotism and divine compassion. All these things were well mixed in Ralph's brain. He never doubted the truth of them, and the one idea which brought forth the utterance, "Now we're safe," was the conviction of British supremacy and protection.

It took Mr Munroe a few days to get into working order. The news of the adventure and the sequel to it soon spread amongst the English vessels in port. There was much visiting and jocular sympathy expressed for the prime mover, and the sailor's sense of humour was greatly touched by all he heard. The mate himself was a humourist, and after he had got over the painful period he often told the story against himself, and never failed to do so with a vividness that made it highly attractive.

The loading of the vessel was in no way delayed by this little freak, as there was no cargo down. Captain Macgregor, however, had not been seen for several days, and the vessel was nearly ready for sea. The proper agencies were instructed to have him brought aboard, drunk or sober, so he landed aboard drunk, and gave everybody an unhappy time until he was got into his bunk and sent to sleep. The next day he rose early, got all his papers and accounts made right, paid them, signed bills of lading, cleared, and put to sea with a fair wind. There were no traces of intemperance in either his behaviour or in the manner of giving orders. He talked with marked intelligence to his officer, and partook of the evening meal with him; and as he had reason to leave the table before Munroe had finished, he politely asked to be excused for doing so. This mark of consideration overshadowed his other faults and stamped him as a gentleman in the opinion of the mate. A somewhat disturbing incident followed, for the guttural voice of someone nowhere to be seen rebuked James Munroe for absenting himself from the vessel for two days and indulging in intoxicating drink to excess and for purloining a poor farmer's fowls, which even the painful results to himself could not excuse. Then followed a modest tribute to Captain Macgregor's superior morality. "It is not well that Macgregor should ever taste alcohol," said the voice; "the slightest drop takes effect and causes him to appear intoxicated when he is not." Then there came from the stairs the almost incoherent announcement that a stormy passage was to be experienced. Then the voice fluttered away, and left only the sound of creaking timbers and the weird moan of the wind. Munroe was riveted with dumb terror, and when speech came to him he remarked: "That's darned funny," and proceeded on deck to attend to his duties. In a short time he was joined by the captain, who was promptly informed of what had been heard.

"Ah," said the skipper, in dead earnest, "that must have been a warning to you and to me to regulate our lives aright."

"I don't know about the warning, but these visitations you talk about are not very canny," responded the mate.

"How dare you complain of being reminded of absenting yourself from your duties and stealing poultry and concealing them in a manner that is disgraceful?" sternly replied the captain.

"All right," said Munroe in a voice obviously agitated, "say no more about it."

Macgregor navigated for three days after leaving, with great vigour and commendable care, though it was known that he was tippling. He seemed to have an aversion to Ralph when he had imbibed too freely. This could not be accounted for, as until recently Ralph was very popular with the captain. After passing Elsinore he commenced to drink harder, but always kept his watch until the Scaw was rounded. Then irregularities became visible. Strong westerly winds were encountered after passing the Jutland coast. The men knew by experience whenever a light was kept burning in the stateroom at night, when the wind blew hard and a press of canvas was being carried, that the intention was, not to take a stitch in until something carried away. The sailors dreaded these occasions, as the little craft was smothered at times and never a bit of rest could be had until the wind eased down. Ten days after leaving Windau the Hebe entered the Commercial Docks, London. She had been flogged heavily all the way home. A record passage was considered to have been made under the circumstances, and several vessels that had left before and at the same time were sheltering in Elsinore roads, while others had put into Norwegian ports. Mr Hobkirk was much gratified by his captain's performances, and would not listen to the petty gossip that had been sent by some busybodies about him drinking and being absent from the vessel while at the loading port. He deemed it necessary, however, to mention the matter to the captain, who on his arrival at the Tyne was asked to spend an evening with the owner and discuss things generally. The use of offices was dispensed with in these days. All accounts and correspondence were kept and carried on from the owner's private house. When the interview took place, Captain Macgregor was at his best. Hobkirk was like a willow in his hands. He nervously introduced the subject of intemperance. It was eloquently and contemptuously denied; and just as the owner was in the act of repeating what had been told him, a stern voice came down the chimney rebuking him for lack of confidence in a man who had given such proof of integrity. Hobkirk felt uneasy, but the matter of accounts which were not quite satisfactory had to be dealt with. As soon as they were mentioned Macgregor fumed into white heat and rose to go, and got nearly to the door when a sharp angry voice came down the chimney demanding that the captain should be brought back again and peace made with him. Hobkirk was by this time in such a state of terror he begged the gallant commander to take his seat, and apologised for having unintentionally offended him. Again the voice came: "The wicked in his pride doth persecute the poor: let them be taken in the devices that they have imagined." This was the climax. Hobkirk was beside himself with fear, and tremblingly requested that all should be forgotten.

"I assure you, Macgregor, I have the fullest confidence in you. By the way, did you hear anything just now?"

"Yes," said the captain, "and although I'm not a nervous man it has made a very deep impression upon me. Good night, sir."

The captain never had the honour of being invited to his owner's home again. There were those who said that Hobkirk believed him to have communion with his Satanic majesty, or to possess supernatural power. Hobkirk was undoubtedly convinced that the mill was haunted by a spirit favourably disposed towards the man who had claimed to be his ideal shipmaster. He became afraid to doubt his honesty or his sobriety lest his nights might be disturbed and his days filled with trouble.

"Ah," said he to a friend in whom he had confided, "Solomon the son of David was right when he said these words: 'Happy is the man that findeth wisdom and the man that getteth understanding, for the merchandise of it is better than the merchandise of silver, and the gain thereof than fine gold.'"

"Very shrewd, very fine," said his friend, "but you might have added one or two other things that the great Hebrew King's son said. What do you think of these few words of wisdom and rebuke: 'But ye have set at naught all my counsel, and would none of my reproof. I also will laugh at your calamity: I will mock when your fear cometh?' It is no use, Hobkirk; I told you all along that Macgregor would have to be watched, but you were carried away with his money-making, his glamour and letter-writing, and now he's your master. I'll tell you another thing old Solomon said: 'Open rebuke is better than secret love, and faithful are the wounds of a friend; but the kisses of an enemy are deceitful.' My advice is: have another master ready for the Hebe as soon as she gets back."

Hobkirk confessed to his friend that the quotations from his favourite author and his own frank statements had made a deep impression on him, though he was bound to admit that his confidence was only partially shaken in the man to whom he had pinned his faith.

"Very well, we will see," responded the friend as he passed out of the door.

Mr Hobkirk's meditations kept him awake right through the night, and at an early hour in the morning he boarded the Hebe, and found the captain and his men energetically preparing to take her to sea. The cargo was all in. A gentle westerly breeze was blowing. The topsails were set; the moorings were let go; and the little vessel proceeded out of the harbour bound to Copenhagen.

The owner went over the bar with her, and on getting outside had a private conversation with the master, the nature of which was never disclosed, but so far as Macgregor was concerned it was animated. Mr Hobkirk, before leaving with the pilot, gave the crew his benediction, and slipped into the cobble which waited to convey them ashore. The pilot, observing that the flag was being dipped, broke the silence by remarking:

"She's off once more, sir, and they're dipping the blood and guts of old England to say goodbye to us."