The Ocean Cat's Paw Part 32

"We wouldn't at Plymouth, sir; but there's no knowing what Frenchmen will do. But there, I give in. It must have been something stronger than that, and I am beginning to think that squire here's right, and that yon vessel, the--the--the--"

"_Jeanne d'Arc_" cried Rodd.

"Right," snorted the skipper. "She was something of a privateer, on mischief bent, and I shouldn't be a bit surprised if we was to hear something more about her. I don't know, though; if the storm blows itself out before morning we shan't lie long here in harbour, but make away south as fast as I can make the schooner bowl along."

"Then you think the weather will hold up soon?" said Rodd.

"Nay, I am not going to think, squire; I'll wait until I can be sure.

Anyhow, I won't fill my pipe till we get aboard."

"Then you mean to try soon?" cried Rodd eagerly.

"Why not?" replied the skipper gruffly. "Look yonder; what do you say to that?"

"That" was the presence of Joe Cross, who was being ushered into the dining-saloon by the waiter, to announce that the wind had sunk a bit and only came in squalls, between two of which he thought he could easily run the boat alongside of the schooner.

And he did--while the next morning broke almost absolutely calm.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN.

A QUESTION OF FEAR.

It was as if all the bad weather had been left behind, for after a little s.n.a.t.c.h or two, as Joe Cross called them, the cruise down south had been glorious.

The bluff, good-humoured sailor explained to Rodd what he meant by a s.n.a.t.c.h, something after this fas.h.i.+on.

"You see, sir, after we started from Havre the weather seemed to be a bit sorry for itself for being so dirty, and you know how we bowled along down south till the wind got into a tantrum again--got out of bed the wrong way, as you may say, and then everything was wrong. We were getting into the Bay, you see, where it comes quite natural to lay all that day. In the Bay of Biscay O! Then Nature got all out of sorts again. It seemed as if she was waxy to let us have it so comfortable, and made a s.n.a.t.c.h to drag us back again. But the old man was one too many for her, and kept on for them two bad days, when we sailed out of her reach and everything was fine."

"Yes, Joe, it was fine. All that coast of Spain and Portugal was lovely."

"Yes, sir, and you got grumbling 'cause your uncle wouldn't give orders for us to let go the anchor for you to go fis.h.i.+ng."

"Well, see how grand it was, and how calm the sea used to get of an evening before we put in to Gibraltar."

"And then you weren't half satisfied, sir. You'll excuse me, Mr Rodd, sir, but you do make me laugh;" and to the boy's great annoyance the man half turned from him, leaned over the taffrail, laughed till his sides shook, and then pulling himself up suddenly wiped his eyes. "I am very sorry, sir," he said.

"Doesn't seem like it," cried Rodd warmly, as he made as if to go away.

It was one evening when the calm sea as it heaved seemed in places to glint forth all the glorious colours of a beautiful pearl sh.e.l.l, and the east wind was of a different complexion to that familiar to an English lad, for it was soft, balmy and sweet, suggestive of its having been blowing gently for miles and miles over beds of flowers.

"Oh, don't go away in a tiff, Mr Rodd, sir. It was only me, and you know what I am. I didn't mean no offence."

"Well, it was offensive," said Rodd. "How would you like to be laughed at?"

"Me, sir?" cried the man merrily. "Me who has been knocking about the sea nearly all my life, first in a west-country fis.h.i.+ng-boat, and then in a King's s.h.i.+p, and been in action! Like being laughed at! Why, bless your heart, sir, it suits me down to the deck. I like it. Deal better than having the old man dropping on to me about something being wrong aloft."

"Well, I don't see that there was anything to laugh at," cried Rodd, softening down a little, for somehow the liking he had felt for the st.u.r.dy-looking sailor ever since he had come on board had gone on increasing, and Rodd affected Joe's society more than that of any one in the s.h.i.+p. At least he said so to Uncle Paul, who shook his head and with a grim smile joined issue.

"No, Pickle," he cried, "I won't have that. You seem to make better friends with the cook than with anybody."

"Oh, uncle," replied the boy, "you always do tease me about my appet.i.te."

"Never mind, Pickle," said Uncle Paul good-humouredly. "Go on eating, and grow."

But to return to the conversation by the taffrail.

"No, sir," said Joe Cross, "of course you don't, sir. It'd be contrairy to nature if you did. We chaps can't see ourselves. There's the old Bun. He's been offended over and over again because people told him he was so fat. He can't see it, sir."

"Oh, he must," cried Rodd, laughing.

"There aren't no must in it, sir. He can't. He might find it out perhaps if he tried to get into a pair of boy's trousers--yours, for instance; but then that aren't likely, because you won't give him the chance, and what's more, he wouldn't want to. You try him some day about being too fat, and you see if he don't stare at you."

"He will, Joe, when I'm so rude to him. But come now, you are shuffling. Why is it that you laugh at me?"

"Well, sir, because I like you, for one thing, and another is because you are such an unreasonable chap."

"I? Unreasonable?" cried Rodd hotly. "That I'm sure I'm not!"

"Why, sir, wasn't you put out because your uncle and the old man wouldn't sail right into the Mediterranean Sea?"

"Well, there was nothing unreasonable in that. I am sure it would have been very interesting."

"Not it, sir. I've been there over and over again, and it always seemed to me just like any other sea, only a bit rougher sometimes, and it aren't got hardly any tide. You wait till we get a little further on, and you'll find plenty to make you open you eyes wider than ever you opened them before. I don't know a finer place for seeing wonders of the deep than along where we are going, as you say we are to, right along the West Coast of Afriky. Why, you might begin fis.h.i.+ng and dredging directly after we had put in at Mogador, where the fish are wonderful, and you can't drop in a line without hauling something out."

"That's good," cried Rodd eagerly; "but I am afraid uncle won't let us have much time for ordinary fis.h.i.+ng. He will be more on the look-out for curiosities."

"Ah, well, there's plenty of them too, sir--all sorts, and the farther you gets into warmer water the more there are."

"What sort?" asked Rodd.

"All sorts, and the nearer you are to land the more you get. Then I suppose some time we shall come upon that there Sarga.s.sey Sea."

"Where's that?" asked Rodd.

"Right away down south, sir. Let's see, if I remember right we falls in with that soon after you pa.s.s the islands."

"What islands?"

"Let's see; I ought to know, sir. The fust that comes near Europe is the Azores; then farther south there's that there island where all the sick people goes, Madeiry; then there's the Canaries, where the birds come from; only they aren't all yaller like people keeps in their cages.

Most I seed there was green, and put me in mind of them little chaps as we have at home with the yaller heads--you know, sir; them as cries, 'A little bit of bread and no cheese.' And you see them up country, a-twittering among the hedges."

"Yes, I know," said Rodd sharply; "but what about the Sarga.s.sey Sea?"

"Ah! I'm thinking it was after that we come to that sea, only I aren't quite sure, sir. But if I recollect right, they say it s.h.i.+fts about according to what sort of weather we have."

"Well, so does every sea," cried Rodd, "when the waves are running high."