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"No-o," said Rodd thoughtfully; "but her captain might have taken a fancy to the _Maid of Salcombe_, and I've read that privateers are not very particular when they get a chance. And the war's only just over."
"No. But then, you see, my lad, even if you were right, that brig wouldn't have a chance."
"Why, suppose she waited till we had sailed, and followed till she thought it was a good opportunity, and then her captain led his men aboard and took her?"
"Oh, I see," said the skipper dryly. "Well, my lad, as I say, she wouldn't have a chance. First, because she couldn't catch us, for give me sea room I could sail right round her."
"Ah, but suppose it was a calm, and she sent her boats full of men on board to take us?"
"Well, what then?"
"What then? Why, wouldn't that be very awkward?" asked Rodd.
"Very, for them," said the skipper grimly. "What would my boys be about?"
"Why, they'd be taken prisoners."
"I should just like to see her try," said the skipper. "If the boats'
crews of that brig were to get a lodgment aboard my craft, how long do you think it would take our lads to clear them off?"
"Oh, I am sure our crew would be very brave, but I should say that brig's got twice as many men as we have."
"What of that?" said the skipper contemptuously.
"Well, then," said Rodd argumentatively, "she's got her guns, and might sink us."
"And we've got our guns, and might sink her," growled the skipper.
"Look here, my lad; why did I give my lads gun drill and cutla.s.s and pike drill, while you and the doctor were taking in your tackle and bags of tricks?"
"Why, to defend the schooner against any savages who might attack us when we are off the West Coast or among the islands."
"Right, my lad. Well, as Pat would say, by the same token couldn't they just as well fight a pack of Frenchies as a tribe of n.i.g.g.e.rs? Bah!
You're all wrong. It's quite like enough that yon brig may have been fitted out for a privateer, though I rather think she wouldn't be fast enough. But that game's all over, and we are all going to be at peace now we have put Bony away like a wild beast in a cage and he can't do anybody any hurt. There, you needn't fidget yourself about that. All the same, I don't quite understand why a craft that isn't a man-of-war, but carries a long gun amids.h.i.+ps and has officers in uniform aboard, should be taking refuge in this port. I dunno. She looks too smart and clean, but it might mean that she's going to the West Coast, blackbirding."
"Ha, ha, ha!" laughed Rodd. "Why, that's what you thought about us, Captain Chubb."
"So I did; so I did, my lad," said the skipper good-humouredly. "You see, I am like other men--think I am very wise, but I do stupid things sometimes. Well, I'll be safe this time, and say I don't know what she is, and I don't much care. But I am pretty sure that she aren't after us, and I dare say, if the truth's known, she don't think we are after her. There, squint out yonder to windward. That don't look like fine weather, does it?"
"No; worse than ever!" cried Rodd.
"That's so, my lad, and you may take this for certain; we shan't sail to-day, and you won't see another vessel put out to sea. Take my word for it."
"That I will, Captain Chubb!" cried the boy earnestly, and the skipper nodded his head so quickly that the water flew off in a shower.
But, as some wag once said, the wisest way is to wait till after something has happened before you begin to prophesy about it.
Captain Chubb had probably never heard about the wisdom of this proceeding in foretelling events, for it so happened that in spite of the storm increasing in violence for many hours, his words proved to be entirely wrong.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN.
AN EXCITING TIME.
About mid-day there was a sudden lull. The wind blew nearly as hard as ever, but the clouds were broken up, allowing a few gleams of suns.h.i.+ne to pa.s.s through, and soon after the sky seemed to be completely swept; the streaming wharves and streets began to show patches of dry paving, and nearly every vessel near was hung with the men's oilskins, Rodd being one of the first to shed his awkward garments and come out looking more like himself.
There was such a transformation scene, and all looked so bright in the suns.h.i.+ne, that the boy took the first opportunity to ask the skipper what he thought of it now.
"Just the same as I did before, my lad," he replied bluntly. "Here, it's only mid-day, and mid-day aren't to-night, and to-night aren't to-morrow morning. Just you wait."
"Oh, I'll wait," said Rodd, "but I think we ought to start off as soon as we can, and get right away to sea."
"Do you?" said the captain gruffly. "Well, I don't."
After dinner Uncle Paul had a few words with the skipper, and then shook his head at his nephew, who was watching them inquiringly.
"No, my lad," he said, "it won't do; the captain says there's more bad weather coming; but we'll go and have a look round the town if you like."
Rodd did like as a matter of course, and with the sun now s.h.i.+ning brightly as if there were no prospect of more rain for a month, they were rowed ash.o.r.e, Rodd noticing as they went that the crew of the brig seemed to be very busy, a couple of boats going to and fro fetching stores of some kind from the nearest wharf, but what he could not make out.
Then came a good ramble through the busy place, where everybody seemed to be taking advantage of the cessation of the storm, and Rodd noted everything to as great an extent as a hurried visit would allow.
There was plenty to see, the forts, one each side of the harbour, and a couple more on the higher ground, displaying their grinning embrasures and guns commanding the harbour and the town, while soldiery in their rather shabby-looking uniforms could be seen here and there, and sentries turned the visitors back upon each occasion when they went near.
"Rather an ugly place to tackle, Rodd, from the sea, but I suppose our fellows wouldn't scruple about making an attack if there were any need.
But here, I think we had better get back on board."
"Oh, not yet, uncle. I haven't half seen enough."
"But I am getting sick of this tiresome wind," said Uncle Paul. "One can't keep on one's hat, and it is just as if these gusts were genuine French, and kept on making a rush at us from round the corners of the streets as if they wanted to blow us into the harbour."
"Yes, it is rather tiresome," replied Rodd. "But I should have liked to have had a look inside one of those batteries."
"Pooh! What do you want to see them for?"
"Why, just because they are French, uncle."
"Nonsense! You have seen all ours on the heights of Plymouth, and they are a deal better-looking than these. We have a good way to walk, so let's go down at once. There, look yonder."
"What at, uncle?"
"What at? Why, at the clouds gathering there in the wind's eye. You see Captain Chubb's right, and we shall have the rain pouring down again before long."
Rodd laughed as if he did not believe it, but making no farther opposition, they began to descend towards the harbour; but before they were half-way there the wind had increased to a furious pitch, the sea became a sheet of foam, and with wonderful rapidity the clouds had gathered overhead, till a black curtain was sweeping right over, and a few heavy drops of rain began to fall. Then down came a drenching shower, and they were glad to run for refuge to the nearest shelter, which presented itself in the shape of a great barrack-like building that seemed to be built about a square, and at whose arched entrance a couple of sentries with shouldered muskets were pacing up and down.
As Uncle Paul and Rodd approached at a trot, with the intention of getting under the archway, both sentries stopped short, and one of them held his weapon across breast high, scowling fiercely, and barred their way.
"Here, it's all right," cried Rodd. "We only want to shelter out of the rain for a few minutes;" and he pressed forward. "Come on, uncle.
Never mind him!"