CHAPTER VI
THE STORY OF THE CASTAWAYS
When River Andrew stated that there were few at Farlingford who knew moreof Frenchman than himself, it is to be presumed that he spoke by theletter, and under the reserve that Captain Clubbe was not at the momenton shore.
For Captain Clubbe had known Frenchman since boyhood.
"I understand," said Dormer Colville to him two or three days after thearrival of "The Last Hope," "that the Marquis de Gemosac cannot do betterthan apply to you for some information he desires to possess. In fact, itis on that account that we are here."
The introduction had been a matter requiring patience. For Captain Clubbehad not laid aside in his travels a certain East Anglian distrust of theunknown. He had, of course, noted the presence of the strangers when helanded at Farlingford quay, but his large, immobile face had betrayed nopeculiar interest. There had been plenty to tell him all that was knownof Monsieur de Gemosac and Dormer Colville, and a good deal that was onlysurmised. But the imagination of even the darksome River Andrew failed tosoar successfully under the measuring blue eye, and the total lack ofcomment of Captain Clubbe.
There was, indeed, little to tell, although the strangers had been seento go to the rectory in quite a friendly way, and had taken a glass ofsherry in the rector's study. Mrs. Clacy was responsible for this pieceof news, and her profession giving her the _entree_ to almost every backdoor in Farlingford enabled her to gather news at the fountain-head. ForMrs. Clacy went out to oblige. She obliged the rectory on Mondays, andMrs. Clubbe, with what was technically described as the heavy wash, onTuesdays. Whatever Mrs. Clacy was asked to do she could perform with arough efficiency. But she always undertook it with reluctance. It wasnot, she took care to mention, what she was accustomed to, but she woulddo it to oblige. Her charge was eighteen-pence a day with her dinner, and(she made the addition with a raised eyebrow, and the resigned sigh ofone who takes her meals as a duty toward those dependent on her) a bit oftea at the end of the day.
It was on a Wednesday that Dormer Colville met Captain Clubbe faceto face in the street, and was forced to curb his friendly smile andhalf-formed nod of salutation. For Captain Clubbe went past him with arigid face and steadily averted eyes, like a walking monument. For therewas something in the captain's deportment dimly suggestive of stone, andthe dignity of stillness. His face meant security, his large limbs aslow, sure action.
Colville and Monsieur de Gemosac were on the quay in the afternoon athigh tide when "The Last Hope" was warped on to the slip-way. AllFarlingford was there too, and Captain Clubbe carried out the difficulttask with hardly any words at all from a corner of the jetty, with LooBarebone on board as second in command.
Captain Clubbe could not fail to perceive the strangers, for they stood afew yards from him, Monsieur de Gemosac peering with his yellow eyestoward the deck of "The Last Hope," where Barebone stood on theforecastle giving the orders transmitted to him by a sign from histaciturn captain. Colville seemed to take a greater interest in theproceedings, and noted the skill and precision of the crew with the airof a seaman.
Presently, Septimus Marvin wandered down the dyke and stood irresolutelyat the far corner of the jetty. He always approached his flock withdiffidence, although they treated him kindly enough, much as they treatedsuch of their own children as were handicapped in the race of life bysome malformation or mental incapacity.
Colville approached him and they stood side by side until "The Last Hope"was safely moored and chocked. Then it was that the rector introduced thetwo strangers to Captain Clubbe. It being a Wednesday, Clubbe must haveknown all that there was to know, and more, of Monsieur de Gemosac andDormer Colville; for Mrs. Clacy, it will be remembered, obliged Mrs.Clubbe on Tuesdays. Nothing, however, in the mask-like face, large andsquare, of the ship-captain indicated that he knew aught of his newacquaintances, or desired to know more. And when Colville franklyexplained their presence in Farlingford, Captain Clubbe nodded gravelyand that was all.
"We can wait, however, until a more suitable opportunity presentsitself," Colville hastened to add. "You are busy, as even a landsman canperceive, and cannot be expected to think of anything but your vesseluntil the tide leaves her high and dry."
He turned and explained the situation to the Marquis, who shrugged hisshoulders impatiently as if at the delay. For he was a southerner, andwas, perhaps, ignorant of the fact that in dealing with any born on theshores of the German Ocean nothing is gained and, more often than not,all is lost by haste.
"You hear," Colville added, turning to the Captain, and speaking in acurter manner; for so strongly was he moved by that human kindness whichis vaguely called sympathy that his speech varied according to hislistener. "You hear the Marquis only speaks French. It is about afellow-countryman of his buried here. Drop in and have a glass of winewith us some evening; to-night, if you are at liberty."
"What I can tell you won't take long," said Clubbe, over his shoulder;for the tide was turning, and in a few minutes would be ebbing fast.
"Dare say not. But we have a good bin of claret at 'The Black Sailor,'and shall be glad of your opinion on it."
Clubbe nodded, with a curt laugh, which might have been intended todeprecate the possession of any opinion on a vintage, or to express hisdisbelief that Dormer Colville desired to have it.
Nevertheless, his large person loomed in the dusk of the trees soon aftersunset, in the narrow road leading from his house to the church and thegreen.
Monsieur de Gemosac and his companion were sitting on the bench outsidethe inn, leaning against the sill of their own parlour-window, whichstood open. The Captain had changed his clothes, and now wore those inwhich he went to church and to the custom-house when in London or otherlarge cities.
"There walks a just man," commented Dormer Colville, lightly, and nolonger word could have described Captain Clubbe more aptly. He wouldrather have stayed in his own garden this evening to smoke his pipe incontemplative silence. But he had always foreseen that the day might comewhen it would be his duty to do his best by Loo Barebone. He had notsought this opportunity, because, being a wise as well as a just man, hewas not quite sure that he knew what the best would be.
He shook hands gravely with the strangers, and by his manner seemed toindicate his comprehension of Monsieur de Gemosac's well-turned phrasesof welcome. Dormer Colville appeared to be in a silent humour, unlessperchance he happened to be one of those rare beings who can either talkor hold their tongues as occasion may demand.
"You won't want me to put my oar in, I see," observed he, tentatively, ashe drew forward a small table whereon were set three glasses and a bottleof the celebrated claret.
"I can understand French, but I don't talk it," replied the Captain,stolidly.
"And if I interpret as we go along, we shall sit here all night, and getvery little said."
Colville explained the difficulty to the Marquis de Gemosac, and agreedwith him that much time would be saved if Captain Clubbe would be kindenough to tell in English all that he knew of the nameless Frenchmanburied in Farlingford churchyard, to be translated by Colville toMonsieur de Gemosac at another time. As Clubbe understood this, andnodded in acquiescence, there only remained to them to draw the cork andlight their cigars.
"Not much to tell," said Clubbe, guardedly. "But what there is, is nosecret, so far as I know. It has not been told because it was known longago, and has been forgotten since. The man's dead and buried, and there'san end of him."
"Of him, yes, but not of his race," answered Colville.
"You mean the lad?" inquired the Captain, turning his calm and steadygaze to Colville's face. The whole man seemed to turn, ponderously andsteadily, like a siege-gun.
"That is what I meant," answered Colville. "You understand," he went onto explain, as if urged thereto by the fixed glance of the clear blueeye--"you understand, it is none of my business. I am only here as theMarquis de Gemosac's friend. Know him in his own country, where I livemost of the time."
Clubbe nodded.
"Frenchman was picked up at sea fifty-five years ago this July," henarrated, bluntly, "by the 'Martha and Mary' brig of this port. I wasapprentice at the time. Frenchman was a boy with fair hair and a womanishface. Bit of a cry-baby I used to think him, but being a boy myself I wasperhaps hard on him. He was with his--well, his mother."
Captain Clubbe paused. He took the cigar from his lips and carefullyreplaced the outer leaf, which had wrinkled. Perhaps he waited to beasked a question. Colville glanced at him sideways and did not ask it.
"Dark night," the Captain continued, after a short silence, "and a heavysea, about mid-channel off Dieppe. We sighted a French fishing-boatyawing about abandoned. Something queer about her, the skipper thought.Those were queer times in France. We hailed her, and getting no answerput out a boat and boarded her. There was nobody on board but a woman anda child. Woman was half mad with fear. I have seen many afraid, but neverone like that. I was only a boy myself, but I remember thinking it wasn'tthe sea and drowning she was afraid of. We couldn't find out the smack'sname. It had been painted out with a tar-brush, and she was half fullof water. The skipper took the woman and child off, and left thefishing-smack as we found her yawing about--all sail set. They reckonedshe would founder in a few minutes. But there was one old man on board,the boatswain, who had seen many years at sea, who said that she wasn'tmaking any water at all, because he had been told to look for the leakand couldn't find it. He said that the water had been pumped into her soas to waterlog her; and it was his belief that she had not been abandonedmany minutes, that the crew were hanging about somewhere near in a boatwaiting to see if we sighted her and put men on board."
Mr. Dormer Colville was attending to the claret, and pressed CaptainClubbe by a gesture of the hand to empty his glass.
"Something wrong somewhere?" he suggested, in a conversational way.
"By daylight we were ramping up channel with three French men-of-warafter us," was Captain Clubbe's comprehensive reply. "As chance had it,the channel squadron hove in sight round the Foreland, and the Frenchmenturned and left us."
Clubbe marked a pause in his narrative by a glass of claret, taken at onedraught like beer.
"Skipper was a Farlingford man, name of Doy," he continued. "Long as helived he was pestered by inquiries from the French government respectinga Dieppe fishing-smack supposed to have been picked up abandoned at sea.He had picked up no fishing-smack, and he answered no letters about it.He was an old man when it happened, and he died at sea soon after myindentures expired. The woman and child were brought here, wherenobody could speak French, and, of course, neither of them could speakany English. The boy was white-faced and frightened at first, but hesoon picked up spirit. They were taken in and cared for by one andanother--any who could afford it. For Farlingford has always bredseafaring men ready to give and take."
"So we were told yesterday by the rector. We had a long talk with him inthe morning. A clever man, if--"
Dormer Colville did not complete the remark, but broke off with a sigh.He had no doubt seen trouble himself. For it is not always the ragged andunkempt who have been sore buffeted by the world, but also such as have aclean-washed look almost touching sleekness.
"Yes," said Clubbe, slowly and conclusively. "So you have seen theparson."
"Of course," Colville remarked, cheerfully, after a pause; for we cannotalways be commiserating the unfortunate. "Of course, all this happenedbefore his time, and Monsieur de Gemosac does not want to learn fromhearsay, you understand, but at first hand. I fancy he would, forinstance, like to know when the woman, the--mother died."
Clubbe was looking straight in front of him. He turned in hisdisconcerting, monumental way and looked at his questioner, who hadimitated with a perfect ingenuousness his own brief pause before the wordmother. Colville smiled pleasantly at him.
"I tell you frankly, Captain," he said, "it would suit me better if shewasn't the mother."
"I am not here to suit you," murmured Captain Clubbe, without haste orhesitation.
"No. Well, let us say for the present that she was the mother. We candiscuss that another time. When did she die?"
"Seven years after landing here."
Colville made a mental calculation and nodded his head with satisfactionat the end of it. He lighted another cigarette.
"I am a business man, Captain," he said at length. "Fair dealing and aclean bond. That is what I have been brought up to. Confidence forconfidence. Before we go any further--" He paused and seemed to thinkbefore committing himself. Perhaps he saw that Captain Clubbe did notintend to go much further without some _quid pro quo_. "Before we go anyfurther, I think I may take it upon myself to let you into the Marquis'sconfidence. It is about an inheritance, Captain. A great inheritanceand--well, that young fellow may well be the man. He may be born togreater things than a seafaring life, Captain."
"I don't want any marquis to tell me that," answered Clubbe, with hisslow judicial smile. "For I've brought him up since the cradle. He's beenat sea with me in fair weather and foul--and he is not the same as us."
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