The Pursuit

by Frank Savile

  CHAPTER X

  BY FAVOR OF THE FOG

  "I do not like this!" piped a small and dejected voice. "I came to ridea black horse, not to be bumped in this vessel forgotten of God!"

  In English these words would have sounded strangely from the lips of achild of six, but little John Aylmer was fluent in the Arab jargon ofhis grandfather's native household.

  He was sitting disconsolate in the cockpit of the lateen _Esmeralda_.His company was Senor Emilio Albaceda, mariner and practical exponent ofthe tenets of an uncompromising Free Trade. From the uncovered hatchcame the sound of wind whistling in the cordage and the swish and thudof the combers breaking past. Upon one of the narrow bunks which flankedthe tiny cabin lay Landon, fast asleep. A guttering and extremelyodoriferous lamp of vegetable oil was the sole illuminant. The prospectsof comfort and entertainment in such surroundings were not those likelyto appeal to a child accustomed to luxury and constant attention.

  "_Pazienza!_" grunted the skipper, good-humoredly. "Black horses are notfound upon the sea, though a friend of mine who prefers the running ofcontraband to the priesthood for which his parents destined him, read meonce verses from a journal--true poetry in praise of a boot polish thename of which does not stay by me--where the waves of the Atlantic werelikened unto stallions white-maned. I confess I thought the notionoriginal."

  The child stared at him meditatively.

  "If horses are not to be found upon the sea and we seek horses, why donot we forsake the sea for the land?" There was a note of anticipationin the query which seemed to find this argument conclusive.

  The smuggler grinned.

  "Excellently argued, son of much intelligence," he answered. "Land iswhat we shall seek when this gale breathed from Jehannum permits us todo so in safety. For the moment we drive before it, there being noharbors on this coast within a thousand miles."

  The child moved restlessly.

  "Where then can we land?" he demanded.

  "Where God and His Mother and the Holy Saints permit," said SenorAlbaceda, suddenly reverting to _lingua franca_ to clothe a piety ofsentiment which the Moslem religion ignores. The One Allah's plans,being laid from the foundation of the world, are not susceptible to theinfluences of human appeal.

  Little John made a grimace of hearty discontent and looked doubtfully atthe sleeping form of his father. But for the moment distraction camefrom another quarter.

  Two brown legs appeared in the opening of the hatch. As their ownerlowered himself into the cabin, he disclosed the features of the man ofthe brown _djelab_--he who on Tangier pier had been sponsor for thosefiery but phantom steeds which Fate had not allowed to materialize. Thechild received him with a shrill little shout of welcome.

  "Muhammed!" he cried gladly. "Muhammed!"

  The Moor placed his lean finger upon the yellow curls in a light caress,but his look was towards the berth where Landon could be seen stirring,aroused by his son's acclamation.

  He slipped into a sitting posture in front of the tiny table and leanedupon it, his chin supported by his elbows, a look of expectancy tingedby humor in his eye.

  "Well, my friends," he queried amiably, "our news is, what?"

  The Moor gave a pessimistic shrug of the shoulder.

  "Bad, Sidi," he said tersely. "We continue to drive westwards asbefore."

  Landon shrugged his shoulders.

  "We shall not see Cadiz to-morrow nor the day after," he said. "Well,the future is spacious. We have infinite leisure before us in which tobeat back."

  The captain grunted.

  "Leisure we have in abundance, but not food nor yet water. We must putin somewhere before we attempt a feat which will take, at the best,three days and, if Chance so decides, perhaps a fortnight."

  Landon's face was clouded with a sudden scowl.

  "Food and water! Why have you not these in sufficiency? Your terms areextortionate enough as it is without the makeweight of starvation!"

  "My terms," said Senor Albaceda, gruffly, "were all too cheap; what Ilearned in Tangier after I had come to an agreement with you was proofto me of that. But I am a man of honor; I keep bargains duly made. Icontracted to set you ashore in Cadiz harbor--with a favorable wind aone night's work. I did not contract to feed three extra mouths througha voyage of weeks. When the wind moderates, I make for the nearestmarket, and you will buy your own provisions for our return. That iswell understood."

  "You mean to land on the African coast, not the European?" cried Landon.

  "Where else?" said the skipper, drily. "Do you expect me to carry you onto the Azores?"

  Landon looked questioningly at Muhammed. The Moor made a gesture ofresignation.

  "_Mektub_, it is written!" he answered fatalistically. "Azemmour,perchance, or Mazagan."

  "And opposite each we shall find a French cruiser anchored," growledLandon, "with launches fussing about, and every craft which enters undersuspicion of smuggling guns for the Chawia. And ten to one warning aboutus from Tangier sent down the coast."

  "That would be a matter of time," said the Moor. "We have driven fasterthan horsemen could ride!"

  "Horsemen!" Landon smote the table in his irritation. "These ships ofwar have apparatus by which they can communicate as if a cable linkedthem. If my father-in-law gets the right side of the commandant of theTangier guardship--" He broke off with another shrug. "Well, to each dayits appointed sorrow. The gale has not blown itself out yet."

  "The event is with Allah!" said the Moor, gravely. He thrust his head upthrough the hatch and shouted to the steersman. A moment later hedropped back into the shelter of the cabin again.

  "Your man Ibrahim is of opinion that the wind shows signs of abating. Wepassed Larache two hours back. The scud hides the shore, but he judgesthat we are not far from Sallee. If the surf permits, we may getanchorage and make a landing at Azemmour. If not, we must dareCasablanca or continue to Mazagan."

  Senor Albaceda grunted pessimistically and climbed lumberingly on deck.Landon threw himself back on the berth again. The Moor looked down atthe child with a whimsical expression of pity which changed to abenignant smile as the object of it raised his eyes to his.

  "The Sidi Jan has not heard the marvellous tale of the Bashaw of Tripoliand the Afreets of El Mut?" he submitted. "If it is the Sidi's will, hisservant will now take the opportunity of relating it to him?"

  Little John Aylmer answered with an ecstatic chuckle of delight, andwriggled hurriedly into the encirclement of his friend's arm. Thussupported, he was able to defy the unsettling influence of the waves andgive the whole of his attention to the taxing of the Moor's memory or,when this occasionally failed, his very competent imagination. The hoursof the afternoon were passed agreeably; the difficulties of making ameal without the ordinary appliances of civilization provided a certainamount of diversion when night fell, and afterwards sleep was paramount.When the child woke he found the boat running slowly upon an even keel,and scrambling on deck was met by the view of a glassy swell surroundingher, but only visible to the extent of the few square yards which wereenclosed in a veil of fog.

  The skipper was at the wheel, and Ibrahim, the deck hand, and Muhammedwere seated side by side in the bows. They did not peer into the fog--ahopeless task. They sat in a listening attitude, exchanging a brief wordnow and again.

  "It is certainly the drumming of a ship's screw," decided the sailor,after a moment's silence. "It is going at half speed, behind us."

  "Let us hope that Allah has not predestined us to be cut in twain," saidhis companion. "But from port, and very regularly, I hear the beat ofbreakers. The swell is rolling against a cliff."

  "A shore, not a cliff," corrected the other. "If my dead reckoning isright within a score of miles, we are opposite a beach of sand."

  Muhammed shook his head.

  "Nay, listen to that thud. The crest of the comber meets something flat.It does not roll, in slowly dying foam, upon a strand."

  Ibrahim shrugged his shoulders.

  "In a fog
we be all blind men," he said pessimistically. "Let us waitfor the fulfilment of Allah's plan."

  They glanced questioningly upwards. As is common in these west coastfogs, the blanket of vapor was thin. Now and again a faint hint of blueabove their heads seemed to presage a lifting of the mist; occasionally,indeed, the sun was to be seen vaguely as a round yellow ball of light,streaked by the slowly drifting scud. But the gray walls on each side ofthem remained unbroken. At the same time the beat of the breakers wasperceptibly near.

  Senor Albaceda lifted his head from the hatch and invited themaledictions of innumerable Holy Men upon the weather. He was understoodto confess that he did not undertake to gauge their position within ahundred miles.

  "If Allah's mercy would send us an offshore wind!" aspired the piousIbrahim, and lo! with the word came its sudden fulfilment. The fog wasrent by a gust, to disclose, not a couple of cable lengths distant, whatappeared to be a smooth and painted crag of gray.

  The two Moors addressed fervent appeals to the One God. The Spaniard,impartially apostrophizing the tormented of Purgatory and thecelestially blessed to hasten to his assistance, delivered himself ofthe opinion that Fate had closed her iron hand upon them. Where elsecould they be than within a mile of the sea bastions of Casablanca?

  That, did they observe, was a cruiser--nay, possibly a battleship bywhose watch they had been observed without a shadow of a doubt. As thefog closed in again, he descended to the cabin where he could be heardloudly bewailing the situation to his passenger, whom he appeared tohold responsible for this and for a fairly extensive list of otherinconveniences. The captain of the lateen _Esmeralda_ had obviously beenwarding off the chill influences of the fog by a liberal dose of_aguardiente_.

  Landon lifted himself quickly to the deck. The mist was perceptiblylighter by now. A beam of sunlight pierced it from above and lit the_Esmeralda's_ deck. The gray wall was still unbroken landward, butseaward it thinned, lifted, rolled this way and that, and finallydisclosed a shining plain of blue. The central object in this, a coupleof miles away, was a white, gleaming yacht.

  Landon swore.

  "_The Morning Star_--Van Arlen's boat, by God!" he cried. He made thehelmsman a furious gesture. "Into the fog again!" he shouted. "Stick hernose into it, get out of this!"

  "To beat out her timbers upon the harbor reef, or be swamped beneath thebows of a warship!" screamed the skipper from the hatch. "Never! Keepher in the light, son of accursed mothers! Do passengers who have beenborn of leprous parents give orders aboard this vessel, or I, ConcepcionAlbaceda, to whom the law rightly adjudges powers of life and death?"

  He came lurching heavily aft, waving a case bottle by the neck to giveemphasis to his commands. The bewildered Ibrahim stared at him owlishly.

  The next moment he gave a cry of alarm. Landon had tripped the captain'sunsteady feet, and, aided by Muhammed, had taken him forward and flunghim into the cockpit. They closed the hatch, secured it, and came aftagain. Imperiously Landon repeated his order.

  The unfortunate sailor still hesitated. His compatriot took him firmlyby the nape of the neck.

  "Into the fog, child of indescribable unfaithfulness," he commanded, "orbecome immediately bait for sharks! Choose!"

  The bewildered Ibrahim brought round the tiller with a jerk. Like arabbit seeking its burrow, the lateen dived fogwards.

  As the gray wall surged up to them again, they turned and staredseaward. Landon cursed loudly. The yacht was turning, too, straighttowards them. At a word from his master, Muhammed got out the greatsweeps and invited Ibrahim imperiously to join him in working them.Landon took the helm.

  Two minutes later there was a crashing sound forward and the bowspritsplintered with a shock which made the little vessel shiver throughoutits length. A muffled wail of wrath and despair followed from the depthsof the cockpit.

  The wall of gray was towering above them. Over the bulwarks of the R.F. Cruiser _Diomede_ a lieutenant looked down and anathematized themwith a versatility only acquired by a true son of the sea. Landon bowed,smiled, and in perfect French, asked the liberty of being permitted tocome aboard.

  The lieutenant, surprised beyond measure to hear the accents of theFaubourg from the decks of such an unpromising craft, hastened to forgetthe collision between the _Esmeralda's_ bowsprit and the _Diomede's_paint, and directed his petitioner to find the companion ladder. Aminute's groping in the fog, and Landon stood upon the cruiser's deck.

  He bowed elaborately. The lieutenant returned the bow and motioned himtowards the quarter-deck. The captain came forward to receive him,smiling amiably.

  "I must be perfectly frank with you, Monsieur le Commandant," saidLandon, returning the smile. "I come to beg assistance. My yacht is inharbor here, as you are possibly aware. No? The fog has hidden us; wecame in last night. With my little son, I went ashore early this morningto leave a card on General d'Amade, to whom I have an introduction. Imissed my own boat at the landing-place and was foolish enough to bepersuaded to embark with these imbeciles below, of whom one is drunk andthe other witless. I have already had an hour of monotonous adventure inthe gloom; I am a little tired of being very reasonably cursed by mastermariners whose vessels we have been ambitious enough to ram. It struckme that perchance you would be sending a boat ashore within the courseof an hour or so, and might permit me to wait on deck and be a passengerin it. If so, my gratitude would be beyond words. It is not only formyself. My little son is delicate; I do not wish to expose him longerthan is necessary to the chill of these vile vapors."

  Commandant Rattier smiled again, expressed his pleasure in being able tooffer assistance to any Englishman--he himself was united to that nationby ties of blood. He would order away his launch immediately. In themeantime _une limonade Ecossaise_ would combat the effect of chill andmist. Monsieur would descend to the cabin, would accept some smallrefreshment?

  Monsieur overflowed with thanks. He would dismiss the villains who hadled him into such a coil, and then hold himself at M. le Commandant'sservice.

  He leaned over and gave his orders. Muhammed turned to Ibrahim.

  "Remove yourself and your master, oh, son of dirt, from thesesurroundings with the utmost speed, or I have the promise of the captainof this warship that he will send you in chains ashore to answer foryour crime in wilfully colliding with his vessel. Your bowsprit? Whathave I to do with the results of your own vile seamanship? Have haste orAllah alone knows what will betide from the mouth of one of these guns."

  He gathered the child up into his arms and stalked with dignity up thecompanion.

  Ten minutes later a launch fussed away from the side of the _Diomede_.The commandant waved his handkerchief gaily in farewell to his smallguest, who, from the encirclement of his father's arm, waved as gailyback. Half a hundred _matelots_ grinned affably at him as they paused intheir toil at cabin lights and brass-work. Landon saluted punctiliouslyand Muhammed's brown eyes expressed a grave approval of hisentertainment. The launch's prow was thrust into the gloom.

  Another gust sang lazily from the shore and the desert and shivered thefog. The patches of blue joined, grew wider, opened a triumphal arch forthe descending sunbeams' entrance. A little more than a mile away thewalls of the sea bastions shone white. The launch's speed increased.

  Before they reached the quayside the last wisp of vapor had disappeared.Land and sea were swathed in sun. Landon gave a little cackle ofamusement and pointed behind him.

  "My yacht!" he cried gaily. "My over-anxious master has weighed anchorin pursuit of me. Word must have reached him of my having allowed myselfto be persuaded into that vile lateen."

  The sub-lieutenant in charge swerved the tiller.

  "Let me take you straight to her," he said. "Let me signal her!"

  Landon appeared to consider.

  "Thanks, a thousand times," he said, "but a small matter of victuallingwhich I promised my steward to deal with has just recurred to my mind. Iwill see to it and then signal for my own boat. After all, too, I mightsee a little
of the town, now we have the sunshine to illuminate it. Acouple of hours ago it was London in November, with a few additionalsmells!"

  The lieutenant laughed and turned the prow towards the shore again. Hecast another look over his shoulder.

  "Is it possible that your master has information of, or suspects, thatvery lateen? It appears to me that he is chasing it!"

  Landon faced seaward and observed the yacht keenly.

  He laughed with great enjoyment.

  "He is a character, that skipper of mine," he said. "He is as likely asnot to sink the unfortunate boat if he does not find me on board or geta reasonable account of me. I shall have to smooth matters down with adollar or two."

  A minute later the launch slowed up against the little quay. The threepassengers stepped ashore, Landon full of compliments and thanks. Stillwaving adieu, he, Muhammed, and the child paced contentedly off into thetown. The lieutenant turned seaward again.

  A slightly bewildered frown clouded his face as he approached the_Diomede_. The yacht had anchored with the lateen alongside her, and aboat was pulling from her towards the warship. The lieutenant consideredthat for yachtsmen he had never seen a boat's crew pull faster.