George Fenn - Hunting the Skipper - The Cruise of the «Seafowl» Sloop

“Upon my word, Mr Anderson,” said the captain, as he had the men drawn up before him as soon as they reached the Seafowl – “Upon my word, sir, I am delighted. I entrust you with a couple of boats’ crews to carry out a necessary duty, and you bring me back a scorched-up detachment only fit to go into hospital.”

“I beg pardon, sir,” said the chief officer shortly; “only one man wounded, and his injury is very slight.”

“Don’t talk to me like that, sir!” cried the captain. “Look at them, sir – look at them!”

“I have been looking at them, sir, for long enough – poor fellows – and I am truly sorry to have brought them back in such a state.”

“I should think you are, sir! Upon my word of honour I should think you are! But what have you been about?”

“Burning out the hornets’ nest, sir,” said the lieutenant bluffly.

“Well, I suppose you have done that thoroughly, Mr Anderson: but at what a cost! Is there to be no end to these misfortunes? First you allow yourself to be deluded by a slave-trading American and bring the Seafowl up here to be run aground, with the chance of becoming a total wreck – ”

“I beg your pardon, sir!”

“Well, not total – perhaps not total, Mr Anderson; but she is in a terribly bad position.”

“One from which you will easily set her at liberty.”

“Fortunately for you, Mr Anderson; and that is to my credit, I think, not yours.”

“Granted, sir,” said the lieutenant; “but do you give me the credit of being tricked by the slave skipper?”

“Well, I suppose I must take my share, Mr Anderson; but don’t you think it would be more creditable to dismiss these poor fellows at once and have them overhauled by the surgeon?”

“I do, sir, certainly,” said the chief officer.

“Have them below, then, at once, and let Mr Reston do his best with them. Only one seriously wounded, you said?”

“No, sir; slightly.”

“Good. But to think of the Seafowl being turned at one stroke into a hospital hulk. – You thoroughly destroyed the town and the slave barracks?”

“We completely burned out the wretched collection of palm and bamboo huts, sir, and the horrible barn and shambles where they keep their wretched captives. It was a place of horror, sir,” said the lieutenant angrily. “If you had seen what we saw, sir, you would have felt that no punishment could be too great for the wretches.”

“Humph! I suppose not, Mr Anderson. And that iniquitous Yankee scoundrel who has slipped through my fingers. But look here, Mr Anderson, I am going to find that wretch; and when I do – yes, when I do! He has had the laugh of me, and I was too easily deceived, Anderson; but I’m going to follow that fellow across the Atlantic to where he disposes of his unfortunate cargo. It’s thousands of miles, perhaps, and a long pursuit maybe, but we’re going to do it, sir, no matter what it costs, and I hope and believe that my officers and my poor brave fellows who have suffered what they have to-day will back me up and strain every nerve to bring the Seafowl alongside his schooner, going or coming. Hang him, Mr Anderson! – Ah, I did not mean to say that, sir; but hang him by all means if you can catch him. We’ll give him the mercy he has dealt out to these poor unhappy creatures, and for the way in which my brave fellows have been scorched and singed I’m going to burn that schooner – or – well, no, I can’t do that, for it must be a smart vessel, and my sturdy lads must have something in the way of prize money. Look at them, Mr Anderson; and look at those two! You don’t mean to tell me that those are officers?”

He pointed at the two midshipmen so suddenly that they both started and turned to look at each other, then stared at the captain again, and once more gazed at each other, puzzled, confused, angry and annoyed at their aspect, looking so comical that the captain’s manner completely altered. He had been gazing at his young officers with an air of commiseration, and his tones spoke of the anger and annoyance he felt to see the state they were in; and then all was changed; he turned to the first lieutenant, whose eyes met his, and, unable to maintain his seriousness, he burst into a fit of laughter, in which he was joined by the chief officer. Then, pulling himself together, he snatched out his handkerchief and wiped his eyes.

“Bah!” he ejaculated. “Most unbecoming! I did not mean this, gentlemen; the matter is too serious. But for goodness’ sake get below and make yourselves presentable. Mr Anderson, you ought not to have laughed. See to all the poor fellows, sir. The men must have fresh clothes served out, and all who are unfit for duty go into the sick bay.”

Then, frowning severely, he turned sharply upon his heels and marched to the cabin door.

“Well,” exclaimed the first lieutenant, “of all – ‘Mr Anderson, you ought not to have laughed!’ Well, gentlemen,” he cried angrily, as he turned upon the two young officers, “pray what do you find to laugh at? Is my face black?”

“No, sir,” cried Murray, in a half-choking voice. “I beg your pardon, sir. It seemed so comic for the captain to turn upon you like that.”

“Eh? Humph! Well, I suppose it was. I laughed too. Well, better laugh than cry over spilt milk. It’s the excitement, I suppose, and what we have gone through. Now then, we had better go below and interview the doctor; but he will be busy over the lads for a long time before our turn comes.”

“I believe the skipper’s half-cracked,” said Roberts, as the two lads went below to their quarters.

“Then I’d keep my opinions to myself, old fellow,” grumbled Murray; and then as he seated himself upon a locker he uttered a low hissing sound suggestive of pain.

“Pooh! This is a free country – no, I don’t mean that,” cried Roberts, pulling himself up short. “I mean, every man has a right to his own opinions.”

“Yes, but not to give them aboard a man-o’-war.”

“Bah! We’re not slaves. Haven’t we come to suppress slavery?”

“I dare say we have,” said Murray, “but you’d better not let the skipper know that you said he was a bit of a lunatic.”

“Shall if I like. You won’t be a sneak and tell. Why, it was ghastly to see him turn as he did. One minute he was speaking feelingly and letting us all see that he meant to spare no efforts about pursuing and punishing that Yankee skipper, and the next he was laughing like a hysterical school-girl.”

“He couldn’t help it, poor old boy,” said Murray. “Old Anderson was just as bad, and we caught the infection and laughed too, and so did the men.”

“Well, I can’t see what there was to laugh at.”

“That’s the fun of it. But it is all through every one being so overstrung, I suppose. There, do leave off riddling about your cheeks.”

“Who’s fiddling, as you call it, about one’s cheeks?”

“You were, and it’s of no use; the miserable little bits of down are gone, and there’s nothing for it but to wait till the hairs begin to grow again.”

“Er-r-r!” growled Roberts angrily; and he raised his fingers to the singed spots involuntarily, and then snatched them down again, enraged by the smile which was beginning to pucker up his companion’s face. “There you go again. You’re worse than the skipper.”

“Then don’t make me laugh, for it hurts horribly.”

“I’ll make you laugh on the other side of your face directly.”

“No don’t – pray don’t,” sighed Murray; “for the skin there’s stiffer, and I’m sure it will crack.”

“You’re cracked already.”