The Ocean Cat's Paw Part 67

"Oh yes," he said, "I know he is doing his best, and I wouldn't care, only my father is so anxious to get to sea again."

"Well, all in good time," cried Rodd. "They are fitting the copper sheathing on again, and to-morrow they will begin careening the brig over so as to get at the other side."

"Ha! Yes," said the French lad, with a sigh of satisfaction. "Well, you take your boat to-morrow, and plenty of men and ammunition, and go on a good long excursion."

"Shan't," said Rodd gruffly.

"But why not?"

"Aren't going without you."

"What nonsense! I'm busy. You are free."

"I am not. If we went away leaving you alone with a brig that won't swim, who knows what would happen? The crocs would send the news all up and down the river that we were gone away, and come on at you with a rush."

"That's absurd! You talk like a boy."

"Well, I am one. Yes, that is nonsense. But suppose a whole tribe of n.i.g.g.e.rs came down out of the forest to attack you."

"They couldn't. You know yourself that the forest is impa.s.sable except to wild beasts."

"Well, then, perhaps they would come down, or up--yes, up; they wouldn't come down, and find you helpless, because we should meet them and come back to help you."

"We could fight," said Morny coolly, "and sink their canoes with the big guns."

"What, when they are fast lashed to one side, and your deck all of a slope? No, we are not going, so don't bother about it any more. Who knows but what there may be towns of savages right up inland, or up some other river farther along the coast? I dare say it's a beautiful country--and there, I won't hear another word. We are not going away to leave you in the lurch. Uncle said as much. He likes the Count too well."

Morny laughed merrily.

"Why," he said, "he's always quarrelling with my father and hurting his feelings by the way in which he speaks about our great Emperor."

"Stuff!" cried Rodd indignantly. "That's only Uncle Paul's way. He always talks like that when he gets on to politics. Why, I have a sham quarrel with him sometimes about Napoleon. I pretend that I admire him very much."

"Pretend!" cried Morny eagerly.

"Well, I tell uncle that he was a very great general and soldier."

"Yes, yes! Grand!" said the French lad, flus.h.i.+ng.

"And that I shouldn't have wondered at all if he had conquered the whole world."

"Yes, yes!" cried Morny excitedly. "That was brave of you! And what did your uncle say?"

"Said I was a young scoundrel, and that if I wasn't so big, and that he disliked corporal punishment, he'd give me a good thras.h.i.+ng to bring me to my senses."

"And you--you--" cried Morny, grasping him by the arm, "what did you say to that?"

"Nothing at all. Only burst out laughing."

"Burst out laughing?"

"Yes, and then Uncle Paul would grunt out 'Humbug!' and we were good friends again."

The young Frenchman shrugged his shoulders and shook his head.

"Ah, yes," he said. "Even those who wors.h.i.+pped him mock at the Emperor now that he is in misfortune--even you, Rodd. But I can forgive you, because you are English and the natural enemies of our great Emperor.

But those of our countrymen--cowards and slaves--parasites of the new King. _Laches_! Cowards! But let us talk of something else. You make me like you, Rodd. You always did, and--"

"Ah-h-h! Getting on dangerous ground. Now look here; will you come with us shooting?"

"No. I have told you why."

"Well, I am horribly disappointed. But I like you for it all the more, Morny. You are a regular trump to your father."

"I!" cried the young man fiercely. "I play the trumpet to my father!

Never! If I praise him it is all the truth, because he is so honest and brave and good."

"Why, what's the matter now?" cried Rodd in astonishment. "Oh, I see-- trump! You don't know all our English expressions yet. Where's your dictionary?"

"There was no such word in it that I do not understand," cried the lad.

"Then it isn't a good one," said Rodd merrily.

Explanations followed, and the two lads parted that evening, both eager for the coming of the following day and the attack that was to be made upon the second leak where the ball from the fort had made its exit on the other side nearer the keel.

CHAPTER THIRTY EIGHT.

A PROPOSED ADVENTURE.

It was a busy and an anxious day. The brig's guns had been carefully ran to starboard and firmly lashed, and the yards lowered down, her topmasts struck, and all made ready for laying her right over in the mud at low water, so that her spars should be upon the sh.o.r.e.

"It wouldn't do to lay her over like this," said the skipper gruffly, "if she were full of cargo. It would mean a bad s.h.i.+fting. But I think we can manage, and I'll risk it. We can easily start her water casks."

There was no question of shooting that day, Rodd preferring to stay with his French friend; and the doctor seemed to quite share the Count's anxiety as they watched the proceedings of the sailors while the tide went down.

But everything went on admirably. As the water sank a steady strain was kept upon the cables, and by slow degrees the brig careened over towards the land till the newly-repaired side sank lower and lower, and she lay more and more over, till at last the water that had flooded the hold began to flow out with the tide till the beautiful vessel lay perfectly helpless upon her side, with the whole of her keel visible upon the long stretch of mud. Then Captain Chubb, taking hold of a rope which he had made fast to the larboard rail, climbed over on to the brig's side, and steadying himself by the cord, walked right down and stood shaking his head at the ghastly wound which the vessel had received.

For after pa.s.sing right through the hold, the cannon ball had struck upon and shattered one of what are technically called the s.h.i.+p's knees, ripping off a great patch of the planking and tearing through the copper sheathing, which was turned back upon the keel, making a ragged hole several times the size of the fairly clean-cut orifice by which the shot had entered.

"You had better come and have a look here, Count," cried the captain--an invitation which was accepted by several of those interested, and in a very short time an anxious group was gathered round the vessel's injury.

"Well, sir," said the skipper, in his rough, brusque way; "what do you say to that?"

"Horrible!" groaned the Count. "My poor vessel!" And he looked at the captain in despair.

"Well, sir," said the latter, "if anybody had told me that I could make a patch with sails over the bottom of your brig so as to keep her afloat as I have, I should have felt ready to call him a fool. It's a wonder to me that you kept her afloat as you did, before you came to us for help."