The pilot held out a piece of paper. The captain took it and read--
"_It is by our order and for the good of the cause that the bearer is authorised to act._"
The signature was a rude hieroglyphic. The captain"s manner immediately showed that he recognised it, and respected it.
"Am I to understand that you take command?"
The pilot bowed, and tendered a second paper. The captain read--
"_Should the bearer fail to accomplish that which he has undertaken, it will be for the captain of the_ "Swift" _to see that he gives no further trouble._"
A wicked gleam came into the captain"s eyes.
"If you fail in that which you are instructed to do--and which I know nothing of at present--this is your death-warrant?"
"It is."
"Then see you fail not."
"Rely on it, I shall not fail!"
The words were spoken in such cold, deliberate tones that the captain--a man who boasted he knew not fear--shivered as though from the touch of an icy hand.
"What are your orders?" presently asked the captain, eyeing him keenly.
"To pilot the lugger to the head of Port Creek, where friends await her cargo. The old landings are played out; but who would suspect a lugger to effect a run in the creek _after dark_?"
"No human hand could steer that course!"
"Yet I am here."
"The thing is impossible!"
"The tide flows at midnight. My orders are to go in with the rising tide and bring you out on the ebb, that you may make a good offing before dawn."
"It cannot be done! I"ll not have the risk----"
"You have your commands, I my orders," coldly interrupted the pilot.
"Then I"ll execute mine to the letter!"
"And I--we shall see."
He bent low over the binnacle, afterwards glancing swiftly sh.o.r.eward.
"Keep her away a couple of points. We"ll come about presently and fetch the creek on the other tack, just after dark, and with the tide half made."
Long and intently the captain studied the boy"s fearless face. Then he began to recall an almost forgotten memory.
"Boy," said he suddenly, "you remind me of some one I have known."
The pilot"s gaze remained as steady as his own, but there was a slight expression of cynicism playing about his mouth.
"Ay!" continued the captain, seeming to speak his thoughts aloud. "The eyes are the same, just as they looked that night when I---- Bah!"
recovering himself. "What a fool I am! This new venture unmans me."
The pilot did not seem to hear, but his eyes seemed to glow with a green sheen, as the gathering gloom obscured his face. A violent emotion was possessing him.
"Boy!" again cried the captain, "you interest me. How comes it that one so young holds so responsible a position in the cause?"
"By past services have I been judged."
"Come, tell me the story."
"As you will."
"You will find me a ready listener."
"Be it so; but not yet. Now set the course north-west. A single light here at the binnacle, and no other to show from anywhere on board. As soon as we are in the creek, see that the sails are smartly trimmed to my order. There"ll be little time to spare."
The captain pa.s.sed the word, and began to moodily pace the deck. He had never thought to question the genuineness of the two papers. There stood the pilot, his life forfeited by any failure tending to bring disaster upon the lugger; and it was a good guarantee.
Anon the captain glanced at the pale, set face of the pilot, on which the diffused light from the binnacle lantern feebly shone. For the second time that evening the captain shivered, and without being able to define the cause. He felt strangely ill at ease. Accustomed to daring ventures, the present seemed sheer recklessness. Who was this determined boy? Why did his presence bring back a fateful memory of the past?
The darkness deepened, and was further intensified by the cold, grey fog. The wind was light, but a steady up-Channel draught. The lugger was creeping in under mainsail and jib, her other sails being furled.
The pilot took over the helm, and ordered the man he relieved to go forward. At the same time the captain came and stood by the binnacle.
"What is our position?" shortly asked he.
"We are within the creek," replied the pilot. "Hark! Don"t you hear the grinding of the shingle away over the port bow? As soon as the sound comes from windward we"ll have her on the port tack, and thus we"ll clear Boulder Ledge."
"It sounds fair sailing; but I liken it to going blindly into a trap,"
retorted the captain.
"Haul on the main-sheet! Steady, forward, with the jib!" And the pilot starboarded his helm.
Again the captain shivered. Who was this, who held death so lightly? His own gloomy forebodings came upon him with redoubled force. What manner of pilot was this, to whom night was as day?
"Boy!" he cried shortly, "why are you here?"
"You read my orders."
"Yes; but----"
Again the pilot caused an interruption by shifting helm.
"Who are you?" hoa.r.s.ely cried the captain.