CHAPTER SEVEN.
OBJECT OF THE VOYAGE.
Into the welcome security of the fog they plunged, and dashed on impetuously, regardless of danger to themselves or other ships from collision, and heedless of the rules about half-speed.
"Now is our chance!" growled the Captain, "and we"ll not lose it. If the fog"s only deep enough the cruiser will not see us again this side the Atlantic."
The fog closed round in damp clinging wraiths, affecting everyone not only with an acute feeling of discomfort, but with a sense of impending misfortune. The sea, visible only for a few yards, came with a heave out of the white bank and went by into mysterious obscurity with a subdued swish, while the ship went on wailing hoa.r.s.ely. Those on deck thrust their hands deep into their pockets, hunched their shoulders, and stared with white faces at the drifting mists and the beads of wet on the ropes. Between the hoa.r.s.e, choking cries of the foghorn there was a heavy silence, in which the ear was strained to detect some sound of life beyond the impenetrable cloak, and the silence was unbroken by any word or motion, for each man stood where he was when the ship dashed into this mantle of death--an obscurity that is worse than the blackest of southern midnights, and is more dreaded by the mariner than the sound of breakers on a lee sh.o.r.e. A seagull appearing out of nowhere, swooped upon the ship with a startling cry, and disappeared like a wraith of fog more solid than the other gliding and twisting coils of mist. And the steamer plunged on, wailing and roaring in an ecstasy of mingled fear and rage as though it also felt the depressing influence. Each one was impressed with an actual sense of insecurity in the headlong speed of the craft; the vibration from the stroke of the engines appeared too great for the stability of the frame; the dip and roll seemed to be at a perilous angle, and dark forms shaped themselves ahead, threatening the horrors of a collision. These, it is true, melted away, being but darker ma.s.ses of fog, charged, probably, with imprisoned volumes of smoke from another steamer; but the presence of this smoke, judged soon for what it was by its acrid smell, disclosed the imminence of the very danger they had antic.i.p.ated. At any moment there might loom out of the mist a solid ma.s.s in place of these darker patches, and at the speed they were going nothing could prevent the shock and dread disaster of a collision.
"Keep a good lookout forward, Mr Webster," sang out the Captain, in tones that were m.u.f.fled as though he were calling from a well.
"We are doing that, sir," said Webster, who had gone forward as soon as the fog bank was entered; "but the spray is blinding."
The Captain growled under his breath, poked his nose against the binnacle, and then glanced into the driving mist overhead.
"It"s lightening above, Mr Hume, eh?"
"Yes, sir; but there appears to be a strong streamer of smoke on the port side."
"Ay, I noticed it before; but it certainly is thicker. I"ll give "em a call."
The steamer"s siren sent forth a rending cry from its brazen throat.
Almost immediately there came a response--a wild, hoa.r.s.e roar terminating in a frantic screech.
"Where away, Mr Webster?"
"Port, sir."
"Starboard, sir."
"Dead ahead!" were the conflicting cries.
The siren flung another wild cry into the wet gloom--a cry that was at once imploring, menacing, and complaining.
It was answered again by a roar as of a great sea beast in fear of pain.
Then followed a deep silence, while every man strained his eyes.
At the same instant they saw her, a great ma.s.s looming out suddenly just ahead.
"Starboard!" shouted the Captain, in a voice of thunder.
The _Swift_ leant over as she answered to her helm. There was a noise of shouting from the towering decks of the strange steamer, a feeling of impending doom, as her iron side rolled over towards the low craft, but next instant she was swallowed up in the gloom astern.
The Captain drew a long breath, and the men turned and looked at each other in silence, their faces still white and fixed.
"That was a close shave, Mr Hume?"
"Yes, sir," said Frank, wiping his forehead; "I"d rather be in daylight with the cruiser opening fire than pa.s.s through such a moment again."
"Ay, my lad, it was touch and go, and by the mercy of a good seaman at the wheel we didn"t touch."
Webster came with a swing up the steps, and clapped Frank on the back.
"I told you she"d drown you before you"d have done with her."
"Well, I"m not drowned yet."
"No; but, by gum, you were near it! Did you see the cook"s face at the gangway when we rushed by? Lord, I nearly died with laughter at his sudden gasp, and I shouldn"t wonder but he"s got his mouth open yet. By the way, the Commodore"s down at the cuddy door, and by the same token she"s got her mouth open in surprise. Why not go down and tell her the news?"
Frank accepted the hint, and very soon was beside a tall figure, dimly seen in the shadow of the door; but, having got so far, he was at a loss to proceed. It was a stilted form of address to call her "madam;" "Miss Laura" was at once too familiar, and smacked of servility. Why had they not told him her name and have done with it; why, in fact, could she not tell it him herself? Having now mastered his first boyish fears and awe of her beauty, and warmly conscious that he stood on a different footing to her since he had boldly lifted her in his arms, he determined to brush away the mystery which hedged her in.
"I beg your pardon," he said, "but I hope you will forgive me for obeying the Captain"s orders just now."
"Ah! is that you, Mr Hume? Can you tell me how we are getting on, since I am not able to judge for myself?" She spoke gently, and he caught the gleam of a smile.
"You must admit that, though the Captain was somewhat peremptory, the necessity was urgent."
"And you must admit, Mr Hume, that he was obeyed with singular prompt.i.tude, which told of distinct pleasure on your part at the prospect of relieving the bridge of my presence. But still, you have not told me of our position."
"We are well away from the cruiser, and when we have pierced this bank of fog, which we may do soon, as it is growing lighter, we should be free from danger of pursuit. Pray, however, do not think that we wished to keep the bridge to ourselves, and if I was presumptuous to act promptly, it was because I was anxious for your safety. You have not said whether you forgive me?"
"Is my safety, then, of any interest to you?" she said, turning her eyes upon him, and laying a hand upon his arm with the look and action of a born coquette.
"Not with me only," he said earnestly, "but, if a new shipmate may say so, with every member of the crew. Mr Webster told me his heart was in his mouth when he saw you in danger."
"He is a brave fellow," she said softly, "and modest with it all--a man who would give his life with a smile for anyone he liked. It sometimes distresses me to think that I should have led him and the others upon this venture, dangerous as it must be."
"Will you share in the danger?"
"a.s.suredly. This boat is mine. I had bought it when it was seized by the Customs. The enterprise is of my planning, and what danger there is will be shared by me." She lifted her head as she spoke.
"Why should you venture upon anything that brings danger to yourself?
Surely you have friends, relatives, who would have acted for you?"
She stood silent for some time, and looked at him curiously for his boldness.
"I have only one relative, Mr Hume, and he is my father, a prisoner in the hands of Balmaceda. It is to rescue him that I have risked the pa.s.sage of the Thames, and if I cannot save his life I will die with him." There was subdued pa.s.sion in her voice, and her hands were clenched.
"Your father a prisoner in Brazil! How can they imprison an Englishman?"
"He is no Englishman. My father is Manuel da Gama Lobo de Anstrade, Colonel in the Army, and member of a n.o.ble Spanish family, treacherously seized by that ruffian President."
"But you--surely you are of English descent?"
"My mother was English, Mr Hume, and I have been educated in England."