Part 51 (1/2)

”What?”

”This is a very rocky coast. That gunboat must draw a good deal of water.”

”True, my boy; true.”

”And, father,” said Poole, with a smile, ”they haven't got a Burgess on board.”

CHAPTER THIRTY FIVE.

THE CONTRABAND.

The evening was coming on fast as the schooner sailed on towards the little port with her overburdened decks.

”Are we going to run right in, Poole?” asked Fitz, as he watched the excitement of the crowd on deck, where every one of Don Ramon's followers was busy polis.h.i.+ng up his rifle, to the great amus.e.m.e.nt of the carpenter, who slouched up to where the lads were standing. ”Just look at 'em,” he said. ”They thinks they're soldiers; that's what they have got in their heads. Rubbing up the outsides of them rifles! I've been watching of them this last half-hour. They're just like an old farmer I used to know. Always werry pertickler, he was, to whitewash the outsides of his pig-sties; but as to the insides--my!”

That last word sounded like a bad note on a clarionet, for, as he spoke, Winks was holding his nose tightly between his finger and thumb.

Fitz laughed, and asked the question that begins the second paragraph of this chapter.

”Seems like it,” said Poole, ”but I don't know whether it's going to be safe.”

”Won't be safe for them,” continued the carpenter, ”if they don't run their loading-rods and a bit of rag through them barrels. Sore shoulders for some of them. My word, how they will kick! Soldiers!” he chuckled. ”I say, Mr Burnett, have you ever seen them there recruiting-sergeants about Trafalgar Square, London?”

”Yes, often,” said Fitz. ”Why?”

”Nice smart-looking, well-built chaps, as looks as if their uniforms had growed on 'em like their skins.”

”Yes, they are smart picked men of course,” said Fitz.

”That's so, sir. What do you think they would say to these tan-leather-coloured ragged Jacks, if they went up and offered to take the s.h.i.+lling?”

”Well, they wouldn't take many of them, I think,” replied the middy.

”Take many of them, sir? I seem to see one of the sergeants now. He'd hold that little walking-stick of his with both hands tight and close up under his left arm, stand werry stiff, and drop his head a little on one side as he looked down at them; and then he'd give a sniff, and that would be all.”

But Don Ramon did not despise his followers. He was bustling about among them, addressing and exhorting and working them up to a tremendous pitch of excitement, making them shout and cheer till they were hoa.r.s.e.

Then they swarmed into the rigging and cl.u.s.tered in the shrouds, to wave their rifles and hats at the crowd gathering upon the sh.o.r.e and cheering shrilly in reply, the men's voices being mingled with those of women and children, who seemed to be welcoming them as their deliverers.

”Well, it's all right, Don Ramon,” said the skipper, who was standing by Burgess busily conning the schooner as she glided in now towards the sh.o.r.e.

”Yes,” cried the Don proudly; ”it is what you call all right. You see there will be no fighting now.”

_Bang_! went a gun from the fort, and the lads started as they gazed at the grey ball of smoke which began to turn golden as it rose in the air.

”They're reckoning without the fort,” said Fitz excitedly, as he strained his eyes in vain for the ball which he expected to see come skipping over the smooth water.

”Yes,” said Poole.--”No: it was a blank. Look, they are hauling down the flag. Oh, it's all right. A regular walk-over. Three cheers for Don Ramon!”