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The Expedition of Captain Flick: A Story of Adventure

Chapter VIII. The Scarlet Ship

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Chapter VIII. The Scarlet Ship.

“Strangely in the sunrise gleaming
Scarlet hull on waters blue,
Black the sails, and black the crew
'Tis a bark of evil seeming;
Fashioned by some grim magician
Sure it is a ship of doom,
Filled with wretched beings, whom
Fate hath sentenced to perdition.”

It was quite dark when we returned to the yacht, for, tempted by the coolness of the evening, we had lingered till late in the ruined temple. Notwithstanding that there was no danger to be apprehended from the negroes, we all felt a sense of relief at finding ourselves again on board. Moreover, the sky was heavy with clouds, and there was every indication of a stormy night; so it was just as well that we had not delayed our return. In the thick darkness it was impossible to catch a glimpse of the ship which had brought the islanders, though Jenner, our mate, assured us that she lay but a short distance away, on the other side of the anchorage. He gave page 91 a graphic description of the arrival, which I translate out of his vernacular into current English.

“I was standing by the wheel, sirs,” said Jenner, addressing us generally, “when I saw something black notched in the eye of the sun, then half under water. Every now and again there was a flash and a glint of red; so I got out my glass to see if it was the sea-serpent come to pay us a visit. Then I guessed it might be the nigger boat we expected, and, as she drew near, sure enough it was. The queerest craft I ever set eyes on, gentlemen, and I've been round the world more than once. She was painted a brilliant crimson, and had black sails, black oars, and a grinning snake figure-head, like the pictures of those ancient Northern boats. Out of the sunset she came, gentlemen, her oars moving like the legs of a centipede, and those who worked them singing a song as made us shiver. It was like the keening of the mourners at an Irish wake. Well, captain and ladies and gentlemen,” continued the mate, flattered by the attention given to his tale, “she passed us rowing hard for the shore, and we heard the niggers shout with surprise when they saw our boat. At first I thought they were going to beach her, but in place of doing so, they backed water, and let go their anchors over yonder. When they shipped oars and furled sails, a boat full page 92 of them went off to the shore, and made for the town. Just before you returned, sirs, they all came running back, and a-boarded their Noah's ark. You can hear them singing at this minute. Hark!”

And true enough, as he spoke, a faint murmur of music moaned across the waters. So thin, so melancholy, so low breathed; it was like the sigh of the wind in an Eolian harp, as fitful, as wandering, as wild. There was something menacing in its longdrawn harmonies.

“It's a run start, sirs,” said Jenner reflectively. “I don't know when I saw such a queer lot—or so outlandish a craft.”

That night the windows of heaven were opened, and the rain descended in sheets from a sky surcharged with labouring clouds. Under the lash of falling torrents, the usually calm waters of the harbour boiled like a witches' cauldron; the wind swept shoreward in fierce gusts; the yacht strained at her cables, till we thought they would part, and let us drift helplessly on to the rocky shore. Despite the turmoil, Bertha and Aunt Chrissy, worn out with the excitement of the day, had retired to rest; but the three of us, well wrapped up in oilskins, proceeded on deck, to catch, if possible, a glimpse of the negro boat. In the intense gloom, strain our eyes as we might, it was impossible to see a yard; but page 93 momentarily, when a livid zigzag of lightning cut the sky, the scarlet ship started out of the darkness, like an evil phantom. Sometimes, during the fitful lulls, we caught sounds of distant singing, and had no doubt that the negroes were invoking the goddess to save them from disaster.

To ease the strain on the cables, Flick had the screws going, but even then, so strongly rushed the wind from the sea, that we were apprehensive of danger. If a modern boat like the Carmen found it difficult to weather the tempest, how could the antique craft described by Jenner hope to last through the night? Some such thought occurred to Harry, and he gave it utterance.

“I wouldn't be surprised if those niggers were wrecked,” he bawled, clinging to the weather rigging; “if we can't stand it, how can they?”

“Oh, the devil looks after his own,” roared Flick, peering through the gloom; “besides, they are more sheltered than we are. Well, Jenner, what is it?”

“Dosk's overboard, sir,” replied the mate hurriedly.

“An accident?” I cried, thinking the creature had been whirled off in the grip of the wind.

“No, Sir Denis. He went over of his own accord, and struck out for the niggers' ship. I guess he wants to see his countrymen,” concluded Jenner calmly, page 94 with the air of a man to whom the matter was of no interest.

“Now what the deuce does that mean?” asked Harry in a perplexed tone.

“The ungrateful little reptile has deserted me,” growled Flick savagely, “just when I wanted him so particularly. But it's pretty certain he'll be drowned in that sea,” he added grimly, pointing to the seething waters.

“Not he, captain. Those coast niggers swim like sharks. Well, we've lost him, anyhow, and must go on our own hook. At all events he can't do us any harm, as he is ignorant of our plans.”

No doubt this was the most philosophical way to look at the matter, but the desertion of Dosk was decidedly vexatious. Flick had intended to use him as an intermediary between himself and the islanders, but his flight had put an end to such intentions. Meantime the storm gave us all sufficient to do, and so wearied out was I by the events of the last twenty-four hours, that, when the weather grew calmer towards dawn, I was thankful to retire to my berth for a little rest. Flick and Harry, men of iron as they were, remained on deck all night, and made their appearance at breakfast, none the worse for their vigil.

After a hurried meal—for we were too much page 95 excited by the arrival of the negroes to eat leisurely -we passed the morning in examining their craft, and remarking on the oddity of her appearance. She rolled a quarter of a mile away, a red hull on blue water, and, from her antique shape and vivid colouring, afforded us sufficient speculation as to the manners and customs of those who built her. Contrary to our expectations, she had in no way suffered from the tempest.

Long and narrow, and low in the water, she was not unlike a Viking ship, and her dragon-head at the prow was drawn menacingly back as if about to strike, with fierce eyes and lolling tongue. Of a bright crimson hue from stem to stern, her squat masts bore broad black sails, now awkwardly furled to the scarlet cross-sticks. The double row of holes piercing her sides showed that she possessed two banks of oars, and, as we judged therefrom, she could move at a good speed against wind and tide. From her high poop a black rudder swung with the roll of the sea, and the whole length of the ship was covered by a tent of black cloth, under which, I presume, the crew lived and slept. Her hull was adorned with barbaric signs in gold; but the oddest part of such decoration was undoubtedly a huge eye painted on the prow, as though the ship were a sentient thing and needed it to guide her over seas. A greater contrast than page 96 that which existed between this queer craft and our yacht can scarcely be imagined: the one a triumph of modern engineering skill—graceful, powerful, swift; the other a relic of barbarism, such as our rude ancestors launched to skirt Mediterranean coasts. It was the Alpha and Omega of ship-building.

“That eye has seen some queer sights, I guess,” said Roaring Tom in a meditative fashion. “I never saw so useless a piece of shipwright's work in my life. Why, she'd go on her beam-ends in the first gale of wind.”

“Yet she weathered last night's storm, captain,” said I dryly; “and do not forget that such ships as you see there sowed the first seeds of civilization. In them the Phoenicians traded beyond the Straits, and in them the men of Norway sailed to conquer Britain. Do not despise the small beginnings of great things Flick.”

“I wonder how so odd-looking a ship managed to sail the Mediterranean without observation,” said Bertha, who was much interested in this barbaric spectacle.

“That's more than I can tell you, my dear. In this age of newspaper gossip I should have thought she would have attracted as much attention as the sea serpent.”

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“How do you think she came, captain?” asked Harry; “round the Cape and through the Straits, or up the Canal?”

“The first, lad, the first. A vessel of that build would have been questioned in the Canal; and, as I don't think those niggers wish to draw attention to themselves, I expect they sneaked past Gibraltar under cover of darkness.”

“Unless,” I interjected meaningly, “they know of a third way into the Mediterranean.”

“There's no third way, as ever I heard of,” retorted Flick disdainfully. “Suez and Gibraltar Straits are the only means of getting in or out. This craft must have come by one way or the other.”

“But how did Hesperus manage to sail a boat of that fashion down the Atlantic?” chimed in Bertha. “You say yourself, captain, she would go under in a storm.”

“He went by Suez, perhaps,” said Aunt Chrissy, with naive ignorance.

“Impossible! There was no Canal in those days,” said I. “It is my opinion that he sailed up the Nile, and struck off eastward to the coast.”

“Hallo!” sung out Harry, before Flick could continue the argument, “here is our lost sheep returning.”

“Dosk!”

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“There he is. I can spot his black head bobbing up and down.”

The sun rays, as with the touch of Midas in the old myth, had converted the water into a sheet of dazzling gold, and, with the aid of our glasses, we could plainly descry the negro making for the yacht. Jenner came up at this minute, and saluted Flick with a respectful grin.

“I don't think those niggers wanted Dosk, sir,” said he. “I had my glass on their ship, and saw them throw spears at him as he jumped overboard.”

“He didn't get the reception he expected,” said Flick grimly. “Serve the ungrateful little beggar right. I have a good mind to rope-end him.”

“Oh, Thomas, you wouldn't be so cruel!”

“Why not, Christina? ‘Spare the rod and spoil the child.’ That's good Scripture, isn't it?”

“But see what excuse Dosk can make before punishing him,” pleaded Bertha, who was more tender-hearted than people thought.

“Oh, he'll be full of excuses and lies, no doubt, my dear. But I'll see what he has learned of his country-men's plans, and let him off this time. Here he is, Hallo, Jenner, throw a rope to the monkey.”

The little negro crept on deck, with the salt water dripping from his clothes, and looked uglier and more repulsive than ever. With an abject howl, he page 99 crawled to the feet of Flick, who was so angry with him that, but for the restraining presence of the ladies, he would have kicked him for his escapade. As it was, he saluted him with a torrent of abuse in the negro tongue, and then listened grimly to the explanation of the runaway. Harry, benefiting by his lessons, understood somewhat of the conversation; but it was quite unintelligible to me, and I waited impatiently for an interpretation. At length Flick dismissed the negro, who crawled away to his quarters like a whipped dog, and turned to explain.

“He has only escaped with his life, as his country-men, thinking he might betray the whereabouts of their mysterious island, wished to kill him. Fortunately, he got wind of their amiable intention, and jumped overboard.”

“Why did he leave us?”

“Wanted to go back in the red ship to Isk. But now that he knows his life is not safe with those black monkeys, he is content to remain with us.”

“No doubt,” said I dryly; “but when you land him at Isk, his life won't be worth a quarter of an hour's purchase. The very fact of his returning with us will convince his countrymen that he is a traitor.”

“That's his look-out, Sir Denis,” replied Flick so coolly. “I don't care what becomes of him long as he serves my turn.”

page 100

“Thomas!”

“Captain Flick!”

“Well, well, ladies,” resumed the captain impatiently, “as you are so tender-hearted, I'll do my best to save him from the clutches of his friends. But at Isk I can't protect him. Egad!” added Flick grimly, “we'll have enough to do to protect ourselves.”

So Dosk was restored to favour, and henceforth kept close at our heels when on shore, seemingly grateful to be saved from his bloodthirsty countrymen. But I disliked the creature. There was a cunning look in his eyes which augured ill for those who were foolish enough to trust him; and notwithstanding his apparent gratitude, I for one was quite prepared to find him of a treacherous nature. The sequel to our stay at Cythera proved that I was not altogether wrong.