Ocean Villa
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“I think not,” I said, “and that is why I have been so long. But the news I bring will be of more concern to you than mine. It concerns the future and it concerns Captain de Salmeton.”
He rose at once from his chair by the window. “What about him?” he asked sharply.
“His ship,” I told him quickly, “is in a very bad state—she has taken a good deal of water on her hull—and she cannot sail for some days yet without danger of being wrecked. He may need a replacement vessel; there is no time to send him a word.”
“That will do,” De Salmeton said curtly. “I am aware of my ship’s condition and I can take care of myself. And now”—he looked up at me suddenly with bright eyes—”you are here to tell me what has happened ashore?”
A smile spread over my face as I thought of something that might interest both of us. “No,” I admitted, “nothing worth reporting. The Islanders had their last battle two weeks ago when a great many of them died on either side. There was some talk among them about sending one of their chiefs back to Britain, but I suppose they decided against it.”
De Salmeton nodded approvingly. “Good,” he said. “They have always been quarrelsome people.” Then his expression became serious. “But tell me this, Mr. Dawes—why did they attack your boat? Wasn’t it the same crew who came out with you on board of your little vessel the other day?”
“Yes, indeed,” I confirmed. “There were only eight men aboard her—a dozen others remained on land.”
“And they attacked you? Why?”
The question was simple enough, though it took some time before I could find an answer.
“It seems that they have been fighting each other off and on for years,” I told him. “When we were sent to collect the cargo of one of the ships that had come into port, we found the men who had been hired by the owners dead—their bodies mutilated by their own comrades.
We didn’t know whether they’d killed each other or whether somebody else had done it. So we made sure that none of them survived.”
De Salmeton stared at me, a look of surprise crossing his features. “That is a strange business,” he said after a moment’s pause.
I smiled again as I recalled our encounter with the natives on the beach that afternoon. “So you see, sir, they were just being cautious.”
He nodded. “Of course—of course. And now what of your ship?”
I hesitated before answering. I had never liked telling lies to anyone, and I certainly had not become a merchant by doing so. And I could hardly lie to my captain when his life depended upon the success of the voyage.
But there was nothing for it; I had come to the end of my information; he would surely know something of the matter, for I knew how much he cared for his ships. And I must tell him the truth before I went below.
“She will be able to leave in three or four days,” I said, “but she won’t make any speed until we have had a chance to repair her. It looks as if we shall be here for another week.”
De Salmeton stood for a moment, looking at me steadily through narrowed eyes, then turned abruptly and left my cabin without saying a word.
***
I stayed in the saloon to finish the tea that De Salmeton had given me on arriving on deck, and I tried to put my thoughts in order as I waited for the first watch to come on duty. The news I had brought from the beach, though interesting in its way, was hard of any importance.
What concerned me most was the fact that the ship was in such poor condition; I had hoped that we could get away in time to avoid the weather. If not, we might meet a storm that would damage even more than the repairs already required.
I looked up as someone knocked softly on the door of my cabin. A few seconds later, the first lieutenant entered without waiting for an invitation.
“Is the captain still below?” I asked.
“Aye, sir, he is,” he replied. “I’ve just gone to fetch him. But it doesn’t seem right to disturb his sleep—do you think we should wake him?”
“Wake him, yes,” I told him. “Tell him that Mr. Dawes wants to speak with him in his cabin, and ask if he can spare the time.”
As I heard the footsteps going down the passageway, I got up from my seat on the settee and walked over to the window. It was nearly dark outside, save for the light from a small lantern carried by the man who had come to announce me to De Salmeton.
“Well,” I remarked to myself quietly, “this looks like trouble. I suppose he thinks I’m responsible for the state of the ship.”
A sudden thought flashed across my mind as I saw a second man approaching from behind the first. “By Jove!” I exclaimed aloud. “There’s more than one captain aboard.”
Then I remembered what De Salmeton had said earlier: that he was not a captain in command of the ship. I was still thinking about this when the two men entered De Salmeton’s quarters and closed the door behind them.
The captain rose quickly to his feet and came around his desk to meet me. As soon as he saw me standing at the window, however, a puzzled expression crossed his face. “What is all this talk of a ship?” he demanded. “Who is the ship? Who owns her? And why are you talking of repairs and a week’s delay? This is not the way I run my ship!”
I explained briefly my meeting with the chief mate. De Salmeton listened patiently, his eyebrows creasing in thought as I spoke. Then he shook his head.
“I have no idea,” he said when I had finished. “I have heard that a pirate called Black Bart has been terrorizing shipping along the West African coast, but I don’t know anything about him.” He paused for a moment, frowning.
“It sounds rather peculiar,” he added slowly, “that such a large ship should be in such poor repair. I wonder—” He broke off suddenly. “You say that the crew knows nothing about the ship?”
“Nothing at all,” I replied.
“Perhaps we shall find out something from them,” he suggested. “But I think there is little hope of finding the owner unless he can be traced.”
“If the owners cannot be found, then where is Captain Cookson? Or whoever else may own her?”
De Salmeton shrugged his shoulders. “I know nothing of that,” he admitted. “But, as I said, there is little hope of tracing the owners. There will certainly be no trace left of any ship that disappears so completely.”
He was silent for a while after this, and then he spoke again. “In view of all these circumstances,” he observed at last, “I am afraid you will probably have to remain on board. I shall send a boat for your luggage later. But I shall give orders to keep a lookout for the ship.”
I thanked him for his courtesy and asked that he would excuse me. He agreed readily enough, and I stepped back into my cabin, feeling very much disappointed and somewhat bewildered.
I looked through my trunks until I found an old blue jacket and a pair of trousers that I had not worn for years. My uniform was too new to lend itself to being pressed into service, but I decided not to worry about that until it was absolutely necessary.
I did feel better for having some clothes with me again; I felt less naked and vulnerable. After making a quick toilette, I went on deck to see how things were going in the meantime.
We had moved away from the harbor mouth and the wind was blowing fresh now, with a good deal of swell. The men had already rigged the foretopsail, which was set well back in its sheet to reduce the chance of being fouled on the breakwater.
The sun was beginning to set in the west, but there was still plenty of light. As I walked aft, I could see a few boats in the water, each of them manned by a couple of sailors, looking toward us as though they might be trying to hail our crew.
A little farther out on the water I saw a single boat coming fast from the northward, headed directly for us. It was a large one, heavily built and obviously designed for fighting under sail alone. I recognized her as the brigantine that had been chasing me earlier in the day.
She was running straight out to sea in the same direction from which we had come, and she had evidently seen us before she came close to us; for as soon as she drew within hailing distance, a man jumped off her bows and swam to the side of our boat. When the two boats had touched, he leaped aboard, followed by another who climbed up over the stern rail.
“Captain D’Orsay!” he cried in a loud voice. “I thank you for saving my life! I am Captain William Cookson.”
***
I introduced him to De Salmeton and he shook hands with him cordially enough. He had the air of a gentleman, a fact that surprised me because I had expected a seaman’s appearance from someone claiming to be a captain.
Perhaps it was just because he was so clean-shaven, or perhaps it was due to the crisp, well-tailored uniform he wore. In any case, he was a very handsome man, and he made a great impression on me.
“I owe you my life, Captain D’Orsay,” he continued. “When the pirates captured me I thought that it would be my last day. They meant to hang me at once!”
He glanced at De Salmeton with an apologetic smile. “As you see,” he went on, “it seems that the pirates were not very careful. Their leader has disappeared without a trace, and I have no doubt that he is dead somewhere.” He sighed. “What a pity! His name was Black Bart and he was a notorious rogue.”
He gave the brigantine a wide berth, which seemed to amuse him greatly.
“And now,” he remarked, “you must tell me what happened during the battle.” He turned to De Salmeton. “Can you explain why the English frigate turned against us and joined in the attack?”
“They appeared out of nowhere in the dark,” the other answered. “I don’t know how they managed to reach us so quickly – we did not hear anything about them until they attacked us.”
“It is hard to understand such things,” Cookson mused. He gazed thoughtfully across the darkening waters. “But I will tell you everything that took place if only to put my mind at rest.”
He related the details of his battle with the French brigantine, giving his reasons for attacking her and telling of the manner in which he had lured her into firing on him. Then he described in detail the action in which he and De Salmeton had fought together.
“I was surprised,” he admitted, “to find that you had taken a small ship like this into battle. But I am glad you did, Captain. It was a brave fight – a real feat of arms!”
The wind had freshened a little while he was speaking, and the sails were now working much harder than when the battle began. Our boat was racing swiftly out to sea; it was obvious to everyone that we would be able to make more speed than the brigantine, even if she should choose to follow after us.
“There were many things that surprised me during the battle,” he continued, “but one in particular: it seemed that the pirate ships all acted as though they had orders to keep away from us. Even when they opened fire at us, they kept their distance.”
De Salmeton nodded in agreement. “That certainly was strange,” he agreed. “It looked as though some kind of signal was being passed between them, and they were doing their best to avoid being caught in the exchange.”
Cookson frowned thoughtfully. “You are right to say that this was strange,” he admitted. “But I cannot think that it means anything important. There may be a perfectly good reason for the way in which they behaved.”
At that moment the sailboat was almost out of sight of land, and we were heading out to sea in line ahead.
“I hope that our enemies will take the hint,” Cookson said, looking back across the water. “This is too dangerous a game, and it could have serious consequences for both sides!”
The End