<h2><SPAN name="CHAPTER_XXXI" id="CHAPTER_XXXI"></SPAN>CHAPTER XXXI.</h2>
<h3>THE END.</h3>
<p>I should require to write to the length of this book over again to do
full justice by description to the difficulties and anxieties of the
days that now followed. If it had not been thick weather all the time, I
do not know how I should have fared, I am sure. I was between two fires,
so to say; on the one side the French cruisers and privateers, and on
the other side the ships of my own country, and particularly the revenue
cutters and the sloops and the like cruising after the smugglers. As I
knew that my relative could not be with me under four days, I steered
out of sight of land into the middle of the Channel, betwixt Beachy Head
and the Seine coast, and there dodged about under very small canvas,
heartily grateful for the haze that shrouded the sea to within a mile of
me. I scarcely closed my eyes in sleep, and though my worries were now
of a very different kind from those which had racked me on the ice, they
were, in their way, to the full as tormenting. Every sail that loomed in
the dinginess filled me with alarm. Several ships passed me close, and I
could scarce breathe till they were out of sight. Indeed, I lay skulking
out upon that sea as if I was some common thief broken loose from jail.
However, it pleased heaven that I should manage to keep out of sight of
those whom I most strenuously desired not to see; and the afternoon of
the fourth day found the <i>Boca</i> lying off Beachy Head, and I peering
over the rail, with a haggard face, at the dark shadow of the land.</p>
<p>It had been blowing and snowing all day. The seas ran short and
spitefully. It was a dismal December afternoon, and the more sensibly
disgusting to us who were fresh from several weeks of the balm and glory
of the tropics. And yet I would not have exchanged it for a clear fine
day for all that I was like to be worth.</p>
<p>It was the most reasonable thing in the world that a vessel should be
hove-to in such sombre weather, and so I was under no concern that our
posture in this respect would excite suspicion, should we be descried.
The hours stole away one by one. Now and again a little coaster would
pass, some hoy bound west, a sloop for the Thames, a lugger on some
unguessable mission: all small ships, oozing dark and damp out of the
snow and mist and passing silently. I kept the land close aboard to be
out of the way of the bigger craft, and held the vessel in the wind
till it was necessary to reach to our station. The three of us were
mighty pensive and eager, staring incessantly with all our eyes; but it
looked as if we were not to expect anything that day when the night put
its darkness into the weather. Then, as I foresaw a serious danger if
the wind shifted into the south, and as I could not obtain a glimpse of
a shore-light, I resolved to bring up and ride till dawn. Long ago we
had got the schooner's old anchors at the catheads and the cables bent,
so, lowering the mainsail and hauling down the stay foresail, we let
fall the starboard anchor, and the ship came to a stand. I put the lead
over the side that we might know if she dragged, hung a lantern on the
forestay and one on either quarter that our presence might be marked by
my relative should he be out in quest of us, and went below, leaving
Cromwell to keep the look-out.</p>
<p>I was extremely fretful and anxious and had no patience to talk with
Billy Pitt. There were too many risks, too many vague chances in this
exploit to render contemplation of it tolerable. Suppose my relative
should be dead? Suppose Wilkinson should be robbed of his money? fall to
the cutting of capers, as a sailor newly delivered to the pleasures of
the land with ten guineas in his pocket? Get locked up for breaking the
peace? Blab of us in his cups and start the Customs on our trail? There
was no end to such conjectures, and I made myself so melancholy that I
was fool enough to think that the treasure was no better than a curse,
and that on the whole I was better off on the ice than here with the
anchor in English ground and my native soil within gunshot.</p>
<p>I was up and about till midnight, and then, being in the cabin and
exhausted, I fell asleep across the table, and in that posture lay as
one dead. Some one dragging at my arm, with very little tenderness,
awoke me. I was in the midst of a dream of the schooner having been
boarded by a party of French privateersmen, with Tassard at their head,
and the roughness with which I was aroused was exactly calculated to
extend into my waking the horror and grief of my sleep.</p>
<p>I instantly sprang to my feet and saw Washington Cromwell.</p>
<p>"Massa Rodney," he bawled, "Massa Rodney, de gent's 'longside—him an'
Wilkinson—yaas, by de good Lord—dey'se both dere! Dey hail me an' I
answer and say who are you, and dey say are you de <i>Boca</i>? We am, I say,
and dey say——"</p>
<p>I had stood stupidly staring at him, but my full understanding coming
to me on a sudden, I jumped to the ladder and darted on deck. I heard
voices over the starboard side and ran there. It was not so dark
but that I could see the outline of a Deal lugger. Whilst I was
peering, the voice of my man Wilkinson cried out, "On deck, there!
Cromwell—Billy—where's Mr. Rodney?"</p>
<p>"Here I am!" cried I.</p>
<p>"My God, Paul!" exclaimed the voice of Mr. Mason, "this encounter is
fortunate indeed."</p>
<p>I shouted to the negroes to show a light, and in a few minutes Mr.
Mason, Wilkinson, and a couple of Deal boatmen came over the side. I
grasped my relative by both hands. I had not seen him for four years.</p>
<p>"This is good of you, indeed!" I cried. "But you must be perished with
the cold of that open boat. Come below at once—come Wilkinson, and you
men—there's a fire in the cook-room and drink to warm us;" and down I
bundled in the wildest condition of excitement, followed by Mason and
the others.</p>
<p>My relative was warmly clad and did not seem to suffer from the cold. He
took me by the hand and brought me to the lanthorn-light, and stood
viewing me.</p>
<p>"Ay," said he, "you are your old self: a bit worried looking, but
that'll pass. Stout and burnt. Odd's heart! Paul, if you have passed
through the experiences Wilkinson has given me a sketch of, we must have
your life, man, we must have your life—for the booksellers."</p>
<p>Well, I need not detain you by reciting all the civilities and
congratulations which he and I exchanged. He and Wilkinson had arrived
at Deal at three o'clock that afternoon, and, after a hurried meal, had
hired a lugger and started at once for Beachy Head. It was now three
o'clock in the morning; and what I may consider a truly extraordinary
circumstance is, that they had sailed as true a course for the schooner
as if she had lain plain to the gaze at the very start; that since the
night had drawn down they had met no vessel of any kind or description,
until they came up to us; that in all probability they would have run
stem on into us if they had not seen our lights, and that their seeing
our lights had caused them to hail us, their "ship ahoy!" being
instantly answered by Cromwell.</p>
<p>"Well," said I, "there are stranger things to tell of than this, even.
Now, Wilkinson, and you Billy, and Cromwell, get us a good supper and
mix a proper bowl. How many more of you are in the lugger?"</p>
<p>"Four, sir," says one of the boatmen.</p>
<p>"Then fetch as many as may safely leave the boat," said I. "Billy, get
candles and make a good light here. Throw on coal, boys; there's enough
to carry us home."</p>
<p>I saw Mason gazing curiously about him.</p>
<p>"'Tis like a tale out of the Arabian Nights, Paul," he exclaimed.</p>
<p>"Ay," said I, "but written in bitter prose, and no hint of enchantment
anywhere. But, thank God, you are come! I have passed a dismal time of
expectation, I promise you." I added softly, "I have something
secret—we will sup first, man—I shall amaze you! We must talk apart
presently."</p>
<p>He bowed his head.</p>
<p>Three more boatmen arrived, giving us the company of five of them. Soon
there was a hearty sound of frying and a smell of good things upon the
air. Pitt put plates and glasses upon the cabin table, two great bowls
of punch were brewed, and in a little time we had all fallen to. I
whispered Wilkinson, who sat next me, "These boatmen know nothing of our
business; I shall have to take Mr. Mason apart and arrange with him.
These fellows may not be fit for our service. Let no hint escape you."</p>
<p>"Right, sir," said he.</p>
<p>This I said to disarm his suspicions should he see me talking alone with
Mr. Mason. He entertained us with an account of his excursion to London;
and then, partly to appease the profound curiosity of the boatmen and
partly to save time when I should come to confer with my relative, I
gave them the story of my shipwreck, and told how I had met with the
schooner and how I had managed to escape with her.</p>
<p>"And now, Mason," said I, "whilst our friends here empty these bowls,
come you with me to the cook-room." And with that we quitted the cabin.</p>
<p>"D'ye mean to tell me, Paul," was the first question my relative asked,
"that this vessel was on the ice eight-and-forty years?"</p>
<p>"Yes," I replied.</p>
<p>"Surely you dream?"</p>
<p>"I think not."</p>
<p>"What we have been eating and drinking—is that forty-eight years old,
too?"</p>
<p>"Ay, and older."</p>
<p>"Well, such a thing shall make me credulous enough to duck old women for
witches. But what brandy—what brandy! Never had spirit such a bouquet.
Every pint is worth its weight in guineas to a rich man. To think of
Deal boatmen and niggers swilling such nectar!"</p>
<p>"Mason," said I, speaking low, "give me now your attention. In the run
of this schooner are ten chests loaded with money, bars of silver and
gold, and jewellery. This vessel was a pirate, and her people valued
their booty at ninety to a hundred thousand pounds."</p>
<p>His jaw fell; he stared as if he knew not whether it was he or I that
was mad.</p>
<p>"Here is evidence that I speak the truth," said I. "A little sample
only—but look at it!" And I put the pirate captain's watch into his
hand.</p>
<p>He eyed it as though he discredited the intelligence of his sight,
turned it about, and returned it to me with a faint "Heaven preserve
me!" Then said he, still faintly, "You found some of the pirates alive?"</p>
<p>"No."</p>
<p>"Who told you that the people of the vessel valued their plunder at that
amount?"</p>
<p>I answered by giving him the story of the recovery of the Frenchman.</p>
<p>He listened with a gaze of consternation: I saw how it was; he believed
my sufferings had affected my reason. There was only one way to settle
his mind; I took a lanthorn, and asked him to follow me. As we passed
through the cabin I whispered Wilkinson that I meant to show my relative
the lading below, and bade him keep the Deal men about him. I had the
keys of the chests in my pocket: lifting the after-hatch, we entered the
lazarette, and Mason gazed about him with astonishment. But I was in too
great a hurry to return to suffer him to idly stand and stare. I opened
the second hatch and descended into the run, and crawling to the jewel
chest opened it, removed a few of the small-arms, and bade him look for
himself.</p>
<p>"Incredible! incredible!" he cried. "Is it possible! is it possible!
Well, to be sure!" And for some moments he could find no more to say, so
amazed and confounded was he.</p>
<p>I quickly showed him the gold and silver ingots and then returned the
firearms and locked the chests.</p>
<p>"<i>These</i>," said I emphatically, pointing to the cases, "have been my
difficulty; not the lading, though there is value there too. My crew
know nothing of these chests: of their value, I mean; they believe them
cases of small-arms. How am I to get them ashore? If I tell the truth,
they will be seized as piratical plunder. If I equivocate, I may tumble
into a pit of difficulties. I durst not carry them to the Thames, the
river swarms with thieves and Custom House people. I am terrified to
linger here, lest I be boarded and the booty discovered. There is but
one plan, I think: we must hire some Deal smugglers to run these chests
and the cargo for us. The boat now alongside might serve, and I don't
doubt the men are to be had at their own price."</p>
<p>My relative had regained his wits, which the sight of the treasure had
temporarily scattered, and surveyed me thoughtfully whilst I spoke; and
then said, "Let us return to the fire; I think I have a better scheme
than yours."</p>
<p>The men still sat around the table talking. Some liquor yet lay in one
of the bowls, and the fellows were happy enough. I smiled at Wilkinson
as I passed, that he might suppose our inspection below very
satisfactory, and I saw him look meaningly and pleasantly at Washington
Cromwell, who sat with a laced hat on his head.</p>
<p>"Paul," said Mason, sitting down and folding his arms, "your smuggling
plan will not do. It would be the height of madness to trust those
chests to the risks of running and to the honesty of the rogues engaged
in that business."</p>
<p>"What is to be done?"</p>
<p>"Tell me your lading," said he.</p>
<p>I gave it to him as accurately as I could.</p>
<p>"Why," he exclaimed, "a single boat would take a long time to discharge
ye—observe the perils—several boats would mean a large number of men;
they would eat you up; they would demand so much, you would have nothing
left. And suppose they opened the chests! No, your scheme is worthless."</p>
<p>"What's to do, then, in God's name?"</p>
<p>"I'll tell you!" he exclaimed, smiling with the complacency of a man who
is master of a great fancy. "I shall sail to Dover at once. 'Tis now a
quarter past four. Give me twelve hours to make Dover: I shall post
straight to London and be there by early morning. Now, Paul, attend you
to this. To-day is Wednesday; by to-morrow night you must contrive to
bring your ship to an anchor off Barking Level."</p>
<p>"The Thames!" I cried.</p>
<p>He nodded.</p>
<p>I looked at him anxiously. He leaned to me, putting his hand on my leg.</p>
<p>"I own a lighter," said he: "she will be alongside of you at dusk. I
have people of my own whom I can trust. The lighter will empty your hold
and convey the lading to a ship chartered by me, arrived from the Black
Sea on Sunday and lying in the Pool. The stuff can be sold from that
ship as it is—"</p>
<p>"But the chests—the chests, Mason!"</p>
<p>"They shall be lowered into another boat, and taken ashore and put into
a waggon that will be in waiting—I in it—and driven to my home."</p>
<p>I clapped him on the shoulder in a transport.</p>
<p>"Nobly schemed indeed!" I cried; "but have we nothing to fear from the
Customs people?"</p>
<p>"No, not low down the river and at dark. You bring up for convenience,
d'ye see. Mind it is dark when you anchor. A lighter and boat shall be
awaiting you. It is down the river, you know, that all the lumpers drop
with the lighters they go adrift in from ships' sides. There's more
safety in smuggling over Thames mud than on this coast shingle. One
thought more: you say that Wilkinson believes the chests hold
small-arms?"</p>
<p>"Yes."</p>
<p>"Then account to him for sending the chests away separately by saying
that I have found a purchaser, and that they are going to him direct.
You have your cue—you see all!"</p>
<p>"All."</p>
<p>"Let me hurry, then, Paul; that brandy should fetch you half a guinea a
pint. You are in luck's way, Paul. See that you bring your ship along
safely. Till to-morrow night!"</p>
<p>He clasped and wrung my hand and ran into the cabin.</p>
<p>"Now, lads, off with us!" he cried. "Off to Dover! Put me ashore there
smartly and you shall find your account. Off now—time presses."</p>
<p>Five minutes afterwards the boat was gone.</p>
<p>When fortune falls in love with a man she makes him a bounteous
mistress. Everything fell out as I could have desired. We got our anchor
at five, and by daybreak were off Hastings jogging quietly along towards
London river, the weather conveniently obscure, the wind south, and
forty hours before us to do the run in. I exactly explained my
relative's scheme to Wilkinson and the others, who declared themselves
perfectly satisfied, Wilkinson adding that though he had not objected to
the Deal smuggling project he throughout considered the risk too heavy
to adventure. I told them that Mr. Mason believed he could immediately
find a purchaser for the small-arms, in which case they would have to be
sent privately ashore; and to give a proper colour to this ruse I made
them pack away all the remaining weapons in the arms-room and carry them
to the run, ready to be taken with the other chests.</p>
<p>Once fairly round the Forelands half my anxieties fell from me. There
was no longer the French cruiser or privateer to be feared, and however
wonderingly the people of my own country's vessels might stare at the
uncommon figure of my schooner, they could find no excuse to board us.
Besides, as I have said, I was greatly helped by the weather, which
continuing hazy, though happily never so thick as to oblige me to stop,
delivered me to the sight only of such vessels as passed close, and
offered me as a mere smudge to the shore.</p>
<p>We arrived off Barking Level on the Thursday night, and dropped anchor
close to a lighter that lay there with a large boat hanging by her. It
was then very dark. The first person to come on board was Mason. He was
followed by several men, one of whom he introduced to me as his head
clerk, who would see to the unloading of the schooner and to the
transhipment of the goods to the ship in the Pool. He informed me that
there was a covered van waiting on shore; and telling Wilkinson that the
small-arms had been disposed of, and that Mr. Mason would hand over the
proceeds on our calling at his office, I went with a party of my
relative's men into the run and presently had the whole of the chests in
the boat. Mason went with her.</p>
<p>Then, as she disappeared in the darkness, but not till then, did I draw
the first easy breath I had fetched since the hour of the collision of
the <i>Laughing Mary</i> with the iceberg. A sob shook me: I had gone through
much: many wonderful things had happened to me: I had been delivered
from such perils that the mere recollection of them will stir my hair,
though it is years since; my duty I knew, and I discharged it by
withdrawing to my cabin and kneeling with humble and grateful heart
before the throne of that Being to whom I owed everything.</p>
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