Фредерик Марриет
The Three Cutters
“No, no,” replied Mrs Lascelles, “I never can, without being introduced to them first.”
“Nor will I go,” replied Cecilia, “but I will write a note, and we will have our breakfast here.” Cecilia wrote a note in pencil as follows:
“Miss Ossulton’s compliments to Lord B—, and, as the ladies feel rather indisposed after the alarm of this morning, they trust that his lordship will excuse their coming to breakfast; but hope to meet his lordship at dinner, if not before that time on deck.”
The answer was propitious, and the steward soon appeared with the breakfast in the ladies’ cabin.
“Well, Maddox,” said Cecilia, “how do you get on with your new master?”
The steward looked at the door, to see if it was closed, shook his head, and then said, with a look of despair, “He has ordered a haunch of venison for dinner, miss, and he has twice threatened to toss me overboard.”
“You must obey him, Maddox, or he certainly will. These pirates are dreadful fellows. Be attentive, and serve him just as if he was my father.”
“Yes, yes, ma’am, I will; but our time may come. It’s burglary on the high seas, and I’ll go fifty miles to see him hanged.”
“Steward!” cried Pickersgill, from the cabin.
“O Lord! He can’t have heard me—d’ye think he did, miss?”
“The partitions are very thin, and you spoke very loud,” said Mrs Lascelles: “at all events, go to him quickly.”
“Good bye, miss; good bye, ma’am; if I shouldn’t see you any more,” said Maddox, trembling with fear, as he obeyed the awful summons—which was to demand a tooth-pick.
Miss Ossulton would not touch the breakfast; not so Mrs Lascelles and Cecilia, who ate very heartily.
“It’s very dull to be shut up in this cabin,” said Mrs Lascelles; “come, Cecilia, let’s go on deck.”
“And leave me!” cried Miss Ossulton.
“There is Phoebe here, aunt; we are going up to persuade the pirates to put us all on shore.”
Mrs Lascelles and Cecilia put on their bonnets and went up. Lord B— took off his hat, and begged the honour of being introduced to the pretty widow. He handed the ladies to a seat, and then commenced conversing upon various subjects, which at the same time possessed great novelty. His lordship talked about France, and described its ports; told now and then a good anecdote; pointed out the different headlands, bays, towns, and villages, which they were passing rapidly, and always had some little story connected with each. Before the ladies had been two hours on deck they found themselves, to their infinite surprise, not only interested, but in conversation with the captain of the smuggler, and more than once they laughed outright. But the soi-disant Lord B— had inspired them with confidence; they fully believed that what he had told them was true, and that he had taken possession of the yacht to smuggle his goods, to be revenged, and to have a laugh. Now none of these three offences are capital in the eyes of the fair sex, and Jack was a handsome, fine-looking fellow, of excellent manners and very agreeable conversation; at the same time, neither he nor his friend were in their general deportment and behaviour otherwise than most respectful.
“Ladies, as you are not afraid of me, which is a greater happiness than I had reason to expect, I think you may be amused to witness the fear of those who accuse your sex of cowardice. With your permission, I will send for the cook and steward, and inquire about the dinner.”
“I should like to know what there is for dinner,” observed Mrs Lascelles demurely; “wouldn’t you, Cecilia?”
Cecilia put her handkerchief to her mouth.
“Tell the steward and the cook both to come aft immediately,” cried Pickersgill.
In a few seconds they both made their appearance. “Steward!” cried Pickersgill, with a loud voice.
“Yes, my lord,” replied Maddox, with his hat in his hand.
“What wines have you put out for dinner?”
“Champagne, my lord; and claret, my lord; and Madeira and sherry, my lord.”
“No Burgundy, sir?”
“No, my lord; there is no Burgundy on board.”
“No Burgundy, sir! Do you dare to tell me that?”
“Upon my soul, my lord,” cried Maddox, dropping on his knees, “there is no Burgundy on board—ask the ladies.”
“Very well, sir, you may go.”
“Cook, what have you got for dinner?”
“Sir, a haunch of mut— of venison, my lord,” replied the cook, with his white night-cap in his hand.
“What else, sirrah?”
“A boiled calf’s head, my lord.”
“A boiled calf’s head! Let it be roasted, or I’ll roast you, sir!” cried Pickersgill, in an angry tone.
“Yes, my lord; I’ll roast it.”
“And what else, sir?”
“Maintenon cutlets, my lord.”
“Maintenon cutlets! I hate them—I won’t have them, sir. Let them be dressed à l’ombre Chinoise.”
“I don’t know what that is, my lord.”
“I don’t care for that, sirrah; if you don’t find out by dinner-time, you’re food for fishes—that all; you may go.”
The cook walked off wringing his hands and his night-cap as well—for he still held it in his right hand—and disappeared down the fore-hatchway.
“I have done this to pay you a deserved compliment, ladies; you have more courage than the other sex.”
“Recollect that we have had confidence given to us in consequence of your pledging your word, my lord.”
“You do me, then, the honour of believing me?”
“I did not until I saw you,” replied Mrs Lascelles, “but now I am convinced that you will perform your promise.”
“You do, indeed, encourage me, madam, to pursue what is right,” said Pickersgill, bowing; “for your approbation I should be most sorry to lose, still more sorry to prove myself unworthy of it.”
As the reader will observe, everything was going on remarkably well.
Chapter Six
The Smuggling Yacht
Cecilia returned to the cabin, to ascertain whether her aunt was more composed; but Mrs Lascelles remained on deck. She was much pleased with Pickersgill; and they continued their conversation. Pickersgill entered into a defence of his conduct to Lord B—; and Mrs Lascelles could not but admit the provocation. After a long conversation she hinted at his profession, and how superior he appeared to be to such a lawless life.
“You may be incredulous, madam,” replied Pickersgill, “if I tell you that I have as good a right to quarter my arms as Lord B— himself; and that I am not under my real name. Smuggling is, at all events, no crime; and I infinitely prefer the wild life I lead at the head of my men to being spurned by society because I am poor. The greatest crime in this country is poverty. I may, if I am fortunate, some day resume my name. You may, perhaps, meet me, and if you please, you may expose me.”
“That I should not be likely to do,” replied the widow; “but still I regret to see a person, evidently intended for better things, employed in so disreputable a profession.”
“I hardly know, madam, what is and what is not disreputable in this conventional world. It is not considered disreputable to cringe to the vices of a court, or to accept a pension wrung from the industry of the nation, in return for base servility. It is not considered disreputable to take tithes, intended for the service of God, and lavish them away at watering-places or elsewhere, seeking pleasure instead of doing God service. It is not considered disreputable to take fee after fee to uphold injustice, to plead against innocence, to pervert truth, and to aid the devil. It is not considered disreputable to gamble on the Stock Exchange, or to corrupt the honesty of electors by bribes, for doing which the penalty attached is equal to that decreed to the offence of which I am guilty. All these, and much more, are not considered disreputable; yet by all these are the moral bonds of society loosened, while in mine we cause no guilt in others—”
“But still it is a crime.”
“A violation of the revenue laws, and no more. Observe, madam, the English Government encourage the smuggling of our manufactures to the Continent, at the same time that they take every step to prevent articles being smuggled into this country. Now, madam, can that be a crime when the head of the vessel is turned north, which becomes no crime when she steers the opposite way?”
“There is a stigma attached to it, you must allow.”
“That I grant you, madam; and as soon as I can quit the profession I shall. No captive ever sighed more to be released from his chains; but I will not leave it, till I find I am in a situation not to be spurned and neglected by those with whom I have a right to associate.”
At this moment the steward was seen forward making signs to Mrs Lascelles, who excused herself, and went to him.
“For the love of God, madam,” said Maddox, “as he appears to be friendly with you, do pray find out how these cutlets are to be dressed; the cook is tearing his hair, and we shall never have any dinner; and then it will all fall upon me, and I—shall be tossed overboard.”
Mrs Lascelles desired poor Maddox to wait there while she obtained the desired information. In a few minutes she returned to him.
“I have found it out. They are first to be boiled in vinegar, then fried in batter, and served up with a sauce of anchovy and Malaga raisins!”
“First fried in vinegar, then boiled in batter, and served up with almonds and raisins.”
“No—no!” Mrs Lascelles repeated the injunction to the frightened steward, and then returned aft, and re-entered into a conversation with Pickersgill, in which for the first time, Corbett now joined. Corbett had sense enough to feel, that the less he came forward until his superior had established himself in the good graces of the ladies, the more favourable would be the result.
In the meantime Cecilia had gone down to her aunt, who still continued to wail and lament. The young lady tried all she could to console her, and to persuade her that if they were civil and obedient they had nothing to fear.
“Civil and obedient, indeed!” cried Miss Ossulton, “to a fellow who is a smuggler and a pirate! I, the sister of Lord B—! Never! The presumption of the wretch!”
“That is all very well, aunt; but recollect, we must submit to circumstances. These men insist upon our dining with them; and we must go, or we shall have no dinner.”
“I, sit down with a pirate! Never! I’ll have no dinner—I’ll starve—I’ll die!”
“But, my dear aunt, it’s the only chance we have of obtaining our release; and if you do not do it Mrs Lascelles will think that you wish to remain with them.”
“Mrs Lascelles judges of other people by herself.”
“The captain is certainly a very well-behaved, handsome man. He looks like a nobleman in disguise. What an odd thing it would be, aunt, if this should be all a hoax!”
“A hoax, child?” replied Miss Ossulton, sitting up on the sofa.
Cecilia found that she had hit the right nail, as the saying is; and she brought forward so many arguments to prove that she thought it was a hoax to frighten them, and that the gentleman above was a man of consequence, that her aunt began to listen to reason, and at last consented to join the dinner-party. Mrs Lascelles now came down below; and when dinner was announced they repaired to the large cabin, where they found Pickersgill and Corbett waiting for them.
Miss Ossulton did not venture to look up, until she heard Pickersgill say to Mrs Lascelles, “Perhaps, madam, you will do me the favour to introduce me to that lady, whom I have not had the honour of seeing before?”
“Certainly, my lord,” replied Mrs Lascelles. “Miss Ossulton, the aunt of this young lady.”
Mrs Lascelles purposely did not introduce his lordship in return, that she might mystify the old spinster.
“I feel highly honoured in finding, myself in the company of Miss Ossulton,” said Pickersgill. “Ladies, we wait but for you to sit down. Ossulton, take the head of the table and serve the soup.”
Miss Ossulton was astonished; she looked at the smugglers, and perceived two well-dressed gentlemanly men, one of whom was apparently a lord and the other having the same family name.
“It must be all a hoax,” thought she, and she very quietly took to her soup.
The dinner passed off very pleasantly; Pickersgill was agreeable, Corbett funny, and Miss Ossulton so far recovered herself as to drink wine with his lordship, and to ask Corbett what branch of their family he belonged to.
“I presume it’s the Irish branch?” said Mrs Lascelles, prompting him.
“Exactly, madam,” replied Corbett.
“Have you ever been to Torquay, ladies?” inquired Pickersgill.
“No, my lord,” answered Mrs Lascelles.
“We shall anchor there in the course of an hour, and probably remain there till to-morrow. Steward, bring coffee. Tell the cook these cutlets were remarkably well-dressed.”
The ladies retired to their cabin. Miss Ossulton was now convinced that it was all a hoax; “but,” said she, “I shall tell Lord B— my opinion of their practical jokes when he returns. What is his lordship’s name who is on board?”
“He won’t tell us,” replied Mrs Lascelles; “but I think I know; it is Lord Blarney.”
“Lord Blaney you mean, I presume,” said Miss Ossulton; “however the thing is carried too far. Cecilia, we will go on shore at Torquay, and wait till the yacht returns with Lord B—. I don’t like these jokes; they may do very well for widows, and people of no rank.”
Now Mrs Lascelles was sorry to find Miss Ossulton so much at her ease. She owed her no little spite, and wished for revenge. Ladies will go very far to obtain this. How far Mrs Lascelles would have gone, I will not pretend to say; but this is certain, that the last innuendo of Miss Ossulton very much added to her determination. She took her bonnet and went on deck, at once told Pickersgill that he could not please her or Cecilia more than by frightening Miss Ossulton, who, under the idea that it was all a hoax, had quite recovered her spirits; talked of her pride and ill-nature, and wished her to receive a useful lesson. Thus, to follow up her revenge, did Mrs Lascelles commit herself so far, as to be confidential with the smuggler in return.
“Mrs Lascelles, I shall be able to obey you, and, at the same time, to combine business with pleasure.”
After a short conversation, the yacht dropped her anchor at Torquay. It was then about two hours before sunset. As soon as the sails were furled, one or two gentlemen, who resided there, came on board to pay their respects to Lord B—; and, as Pickersgill had found out from Cecilia that her father was acquainted with no one there, he received them in person; asked them down in the cabin—called for wine—and desired them to send their boats away, as his own was going on shore. The smugglers took great care that the steward, cook, and lady’s-maid, should have no communication with the guests; one of them, by Corbett’s direction, being a sentinel over each individual. The gentlemen remained about half-an-hour on board, during which Corbett and the smugglers had filled the portmanteaus found in the cabin with the lace, and they were put in the boat; Corbett then landed the gentlemen in the same boat, and went up to the hotel, the smugglers following him with the portmanteaus, without any suspicion or interruption. As soon as he was there, he ordered post-horses, and set off for a town close by, where he had correspondents; and thus the major part of the cargo was secured. Corbett then returned in the night, bringing with him people to receive the goods; and the smugglers landed the silks, teas, etcetera, with the same good fortune. Everything was out of the yacht except a portion of the lace, which the portmanteaus would not hold. Pickersgill might easily have sent this on shore; but, to please Mrs Lascelles, he arranged otherwise.
The next morning, about an hour after breakfast was finished, Mrs Lascelles entered the cabin pretending to be in the greatest consternation, and fell on the sofa as if she were going to faint.
“Good heavens! What is the matter?” exclaimed Cecilia, who knew very well what was coming.
“Oh, the wretch! He has made such proposals!”
“Proposals! What proposals? What! Lord Blaney?” cried Miss Ossulton.
“Oh, he’s no lord! He’s a villain and a smuggler! And he insists that we shall both fill our pockets full of lace, and go on shore with him.”
“Mercy on me! Then it is no hoax after all; and I’ve been sitting down to dinner with a smuggler!”
“Sitting down, madam!—if it were to be no more than that—but we are to take his arm up to the hotel. Oh dear! Cecilia, I am ordered on deck; pray, come with me!”
Miss Ossulton rolled on the sofa, and rang for Phoebe; she was in a state of great alarm.
A knock at the door.
“Come in,” said Miss Ossulton, thinking it was Phoebe; when Pickersgill made his appearance.
“What do you want, sir? Go out, sir! Go out directly, of I’ll scream!”
“It is no use screaming, madam; recollect, that all on board are at my service. You, will oblige me by listening to me, Miss Ossulton. I am, as you know, a smuggler; and I must send this lace on shore. You will oblige me by putting, it into your pockets, or about your person, and prepare to go on shore with me. As soon as we arrive at the hotel, you will deliver it to me, and I then shall re-conduct you on board of the yacht. You are not the first lady who has gone on shore with contraband articles about her person.”
“Me, sir! Go on shore in that way? No, sir—never! What will the world say?—the Hon. Miss Ossulton walking with a smuggler! No, sir—never!”
“Yes, madam; walking arm-in-arm with a smuggler: I shall have you on one arm, and Mrs Lascelles on the other; and I would advise you to take it very quietly; for, in the first place, it will be you who smuggle, as the goods will be found on your person, and you will certainly be put in prison: for at the least appearance of insubordination, we run and inform against you; and further, your niece will remain on board as a hostage for your good behaviour—and if you have any regard for her liberty, you will consent immediately.”
Pickersgill left the cabin, and shortly afterwards Cecilia and Mrs Lascelles entered, apparently much distressed. They had been informed of all, and Mrs Lascelles declared, that for her part, sooner than leave her poor Cecilia to the mercy of such people, she had made up her mind to submit to the smuggler’s demands. Cecilia also begged so earnestly, that Miss Ossulton, who had no idea that it was a trick, with much sobbing and blubbering, consented.
When all was ready, Cecilia left the cabin; Pickersgill came down, handed up the two ladies, who had not exchanged a word with each other during Cecilia’s absence; the boat was ready alongside—they went in, and pulled on shore. Everything succeeded to the smuggler’s satisfaction. Miss Ossulton, frightened out of her wits, took his arm; and, with Mrs Lascelles on the other, they went up to the hotel, followed by four of his boat’s crew. As soon as they were shown into a room, Corbett, who was already on shore, asked for Lord B—, and joined them. The ladies retired to another apartment, divested themselves of their contraband goods, and, after calling for some sandwiches and wine, Pickersgill waited an hour, and then returned on board. Mrs Lascelles was triumphant; and she rewarded her new ally—the smuggler—with one of her sweetest smiles. Community of interest will sometimes make strange friendships.
