"This skiff might be of use to you for personal projects."
"Oh, my lord, my lord!"
"That title," said Cromwell, laughing, "is all very well here, but take
care a word like that does not escape your lips in public."
"But your honor will soon be called so generally."
"I hope so, at least," said Cromwell, rising and putting on his cloak.
"You are going, sir?"
"Yes," said Cromwell. "I slept here last night and the night before, and
you know it is not my custom to sleep three times in the same bed."
"Then," said Mordaunt, "your honor gives me my liberty for to-night?"
"And even for all day to-morrow, if you want it. Since last evening," he
added, smiling, "you have done enough in my service, and if you have any
personal matters to settle it is just that I should give you time."
"Thank you, sir; it will be well employed, I hope."
Cromwell turned as he was going.
"Are you armed?" he asked.
"I have my sword."
"And no one waiting for you outside?"
"No."
"Then you had better come with me."
"Thank you, sir, but the way by the subterranean passage would take too
much time and I have none to lose."
Cromwell placed his hand on a hidden handle and opened a door so well
concealed by the tapestry that the most practiced eye could not have
discovered it. It closed after him with a spring. This door communicated
with a subterranean passage, leading under the street to a grotto in the
garden of a house about a hundred yards from that of the future
Protector.
It was just before this that Grimaud had perceived the two men seated
together.
D’Artagnan was the first to recover from his surprise.
"Mordaunt," he cried. "Ah! by Heaven! it is God Himself who sent us
here."
"Yes," said Porthos, "let us break the door in and fall upon him."
"No," replied D’Artagnan, "no noise. Now, Grimaud, you come here, climb
up to the window again and tell us if Mordaunt is alone and whether he
is preparing to go out or go to bed. If he comes out we shall catch him.
If he stays in we will break in the window. It is easier and less noisy
than the door."
Grimaud began to scale the wall again.
"Keep guard at the other door, Athos and Aramis. Porthos and I will stay
here."
The friends obeyed.
"He is alone," said Grimaud.
"We did not see his companion come out."
"He may have gone by the other door."
"What is he doing?"
"Putting on his cloak and gloves."
"He’s ours," muttered D’Artagnan.
Porthos mechanically drew his dagger from the scabbard.
"Put it up again, my friend," said D’Artagnan. "We must proceed in an
orderly manner."
"Hush!" said Grimaud, "he is coming out. He has put out the lamp, I can
see nothing now."
"Get down then and quickly."
Grimaud leaped down. The snow deadened the noise of his fall.
"Now go and tell Athos and Aramis to stand on each side of the door and
clap their hands if they catch him. We will do the same."
The next moment the door opened and Mordaunt appeared on the threshold,
face to face with D’Artagnan. Porthos clapped his hands and the other
two came running around. Mordaunt was livid, but he uttered no cry nor
called for assistance. D’Artagnan quietly pushed him in again, and by
the light of a lamp on the staircase made him ascend the steps backward
one by one, keeping his eyes all the time on Mordaunt’s hands, who,
however, knowing that it was useless, attempted no resistance. At last
they stood face to face in the very room where ten minutes before
Mordaunt had been talking to Cromwell.
Porthos came up behind, and unhooking the lamp on the staircase relit
that in the room. Athos and Aramis entered last and locked the door
behind them.
"Oblige me by taking a seat," said D’Artagnan, pushing a chair toward
Mordaunt, who sat down, pale but calm. Aramis, Porthos and D’Artagnan
drew their chairs near him. Athos alone kept away and sat in the
furthest corner of the room, as if determined to be merely a spectator
of the proceedings. He seemed to be quite overcome. Porthos rubbed his
hands in feverish impatience. Aramis bit his lips till the blood came.
D’Artagnan alone was calm, at least in appearance.
"Monsieur Mordaunt," he said, "since, after running after one another so
long, chance has at last brought us together, let us have a little
conversation, if you please."
69. Conversational.
Though Mordaunt had been so completely taken by surprise and had mounted
the stairs in such utter confusion, when once seated he recovered
himself, as it were, and prepared to seize any possible opportunity of
escape. His eye wandered to a long stout sword on his flank and he
instinctively slipped it around within reach of his right hand.
D’Artagnan was waiting for a reply to his remark and said nothing.
Aramis muttered to himself, "We shall hear nothing but the usual
commonplace things."
Porthos sucked his mustache, muttering, "A good deal of ceremony
to-night about crushing an adder." Athos shrunk into his corner, pale
and motionless as a bas-relief.
The silence, however, could not last forever. So D’Artagnan began:
"Sir," he said, with desperate politeness, "it seems to me that you
change your costume almost as rapidly as I have seen the Italian mummers
do, whom the Cardinal Mazarin brought over from Bergamo and whom he
doubtless took you to see during your travels in France."
Mordaunt did not reply.
"Just now," D’Artagnan continued, "you were disguised--I mean to say,
attired--as a murderer, and now----"
"And now I look very much like a man who is going to be murdered."
"Oh! sir," said D’Artagnan, "how can you talk like that when you are in
the company of gentlemen and have such an excellent sword at your side?"
"No sword is excellent enough to be of use against four swords and
daggers."
"Well, that is scarcely the question. I had the honor of asking you why
you altered your costume. The mask and beard became you very well, and
as to the axe, I do not think it would be out of keeping even at this
moment. Why, then, have you laid it aside?"
"Because, remembering the scene at Armentieres, I thought I should find
four axes for one, as I was to meet four executioners."
"Sir," replied D’Artagnan, in the calmest manner possible, "you are very
young; I shall therefore overlook your frivolous remarks. What took
place at Armentieres has no connection whatever with the present
occasion. We could scarcely have requested your mother to take a sword
and fight us."
"Aha! It is a duel, then?" cried Mordaunt, as if disposed to reply at
once to the provocation.
Porthos rose, always ready for this kind of adventure.
"Pardon me," said D’Artagnan. "Do not let us do things in a hurry. We
will arrange the matter rather better. Confess, Monsieur Mordaunt, that
you are anxious to kill some of us."
"All," replied Mordaunt.
"Then, my dear sir; I am convinced that these gentlemen return your kind
wishes and will be delighted to kill you also. Of course they will do so
as honorable gentlemen, and the best proof I can furnish is this----"
So saying, he threw his hat on the ground, pushed back his chair to the
wall and bowed to Mordaunt with true French grace.
"At your service, sir," he continued. "My sword is shorter than yours,
it’s true, but, bah! I think the arm will make up for the sword."
"Halt!" cried Porthos coming forward. "I begin, and without any
rhetoric."
"Allow me, Porthos," said Aramis.
Athos did not move. He might have been taken for a statue. Even his
breathing seemed to be arrested.
"Gentlemen," said D’Artagnan, "you shall have your turn. Monsieur
Mordaunt dislikes you sufficiently not to refuse you afterward. You can
see it in his eye. So pray keep your places, like Athos, whose calmness
is entirely laudable. Besides, we will have no words about it. I have
particular business to settle with this gentleman and I shall and will
begin."
Porthos and Aramis drew back, disappointed, and drawing his sword
D’Artagnan turned to his adversary:
"Sir, I am waiting for you."
"And for my part, gentlemen, I admire you. You are disputing which shall
fight me first, but you do not consult me who am most concerned in the
matter. I hate you all, but not equally. I hope to kill all four of you,
but I am more likely to kill the first than the second, the second than
the third, and the third than the last. I claim, then, the right to
choose my opponent. If you refuse this right you may kill me, but I
shall not fight."
"It is but fair," said Porthos and Aramis, hoping he would choose one of
them.
Athos and D’Artagnan said nothing, but their silence seemed to imply
consent.
"Well, then," said Mordaunt, "I choose for my adversary the man who, not
thinking himself worthy to be called Comte de la Fere, calls himself
Athos."
Athos sprang up, but after an instant of motionless silence he said, to
the astonishment of his friends, "Monsieur Mordaunt, a duel between us
is impossible. Submit this honour to somebody else." And he sat down.
"Ah!" said Mordaunt, with a sneer, "there’s one who is afraid."
"Zounds!" exclaimed D’Artagnan, bounding toward him, "who says that
Athos is afraid?"
"Let him have his say, D’Artagnan," said Athos, with a smile of sadness
and contempt.
"Is it your decision, Athos?" resumed the Gascon.
"Irrevocably."
"You hear, sir," said D’Artagnan, turning to Mordaunt. "The Comte de la
Fere will not do you the honor of fighting with you. Choose one of us to
replace the Comte de la Fere."
"As long as I don’t fight with him it is the same to me with whom I
fight. Put your names into a hat and draw lots."
"A good idea," said D’Artagnan.
"At least that will conciliate us all," said Aramis.
"I should never have thought of that," said Porthos, "and yet it is very
simple."
"Come, Aramis," said D’Artagnan, "write this for us in those neat little
characters in which you wrote to Marie Michon that the mother of this
gentleman intended to assassinate the Duke of Buckingham."
Mordaunt sustained this new attack without wincing. He stood with his
arms folded, apparently as calm as any man could be in such
circumstances. If he had not courage he had what is very like it,
namely, pride.
Aramis went to Cromwell’s desk, tore off three bits of paper of equal
size, wrote on the first his own name and on the others those of his two
companions, and presented them open to Mordaunt, who by a movement of
his head indicated that he left the matter entirely to Aramis. He then
rolled them separately and put them in a hat, which he handed to
Mordaunt.
Mordaunt put his hand into the hat, took out one of the three papers and
disdainfully dropped it on the table without reading it.
"Ah! serpent," muttered D’Artagnan, "I would give my chance of a
captaincy in the mousquetaires for that to be my name."
Aramis opened the paper, and in a voice trembling with hate and
vengeance read "D’Artagnan."
The Gascon uttered a cry of joy and turning to Mordaunt:
"I hope, sir," said he, "you have no objection to make."
"None, whatever," replied the other, drawing his sword and resting the
point on his boot.
The moment that D’Artagnan saw that his wish was accomplished and his
man would not escape him, he recovered his usual tranquillity. He turned
up his cuffs neatly and rubbed the sole of his right boot on the floor,
but did not fail, however, to remark that Mordaunt was looking about him
in a singular manner.
"Are you ready, sir?" he said at last.
"I was waiting for you, sir," said Mordaunt, raising his head and
casting at his opponent a look it would be impossible to describe.
"Well, then," said the Gascon, "take care of yourself, for I am not a
bad hand at the rapier."
"Nor I either."
"So much the better; that sets my mind at rest. Defend yourself."
"One minute," said the young man. "Give me your word, gentlemen, that
you will not attack me otherwise than one after the other."
"Is it to have the pleasure of insulting us that you say that, my little
viper?"
"No, but to set my mind at rest, as you observed just now."
"It is for something else than that, I imagine," muttered D’Artagnan,
shaking his head doubtfully.
"On the honor of gentlemen," said Aramis and Porthos.
"In that case, gentlemen, have the kindness to retire into the corners,
so as to give us ample room. We shall require it."
"Yes, gentlemen," said D’Artagnan, "we must not leave this person the
slightest pretext for behaving badly, which, with all due respect, I
fancy he is anxious still to do."
This new attack made no impression on Mordaunt. The space was cleared,
the two lamps placed on Cromwell’s desk, in order that the combatants
might have as much light as possible; and the swords crossed.
D’Artagnan was too good a swordsman to trifle with his opponent. He made
a rapid and brilliant feint which Mordaunt parried.
"Aha!" he cried with a smile of satisfaction.
And without losing a minute, thinking he saw an opening, he thrust his
right in and forced Mordaunt to parry a counter en quarte so fine that
the point of the weapon might have turned within a wedding ring.
This time it was Mordaunt who smiled.
"Ah, sir," said D’Artagnan, "you have a wicked smile. It must have been
the devil who taught it you, was it not?"
Mordaunt replied by trying his opponent’s weapon with an amount of
strength which the Gascon was astonished to find in a form apparently so
feeble; but thanks to a parry no less clever than that which Mordaunt
had just achieved, he succeeded in meeting his sword, which slid along
his own without touching his chest.
Mordaunt rapidly sprang back a step.
"Ah! you lose ground, you are turning? Well, as you please, I even gain
something by it, for I no longer see that wicked smile of yours. You
have no idea what a false look you have, particularly when you are
afraid. Look at my eyes and you will see what no looking-glass has ever
shown you--a frank and honorable countenance."
To this flow of words, not perhaps in the best taste, but characteristic
of D’Artagnan, whose principal object was to divert his opponent’s
attention, Mordaunt did not reply, but continuing to turn around he
succeeded in changing places with D’Artagnan.
He smiled more and more sarcastically and his smile began to make the
Gascon anxious.
"Come, come," cried D’Artagnan, "we must finish with this," and in his
turn he pressed Mordaunt hard, who continued to lose ground, but
evidently on purpose and without letting his sword leave the line for a
moment. However, as they were fighting in a room and had not space to go
on like that forever, Mordaunt’s foot at last touched the wall, against
which he rested his left hand.
"Ah, this time you cannot lose ground, my fine friend!" exclaimed
D’Artagnan. "Gentlemen, did you ever see a scorpion pinned to a wall?
No. Well, then, you shall see it now."
In a second D’Artagnan had made three terrible thrusts at Mordaunt, all
of which touched, but only pricked him. The three friends looked on,
panting and astonished. At last D’Artagnan, having got up too close,
stepped back to prepare a fourth thrust, but the moment when, after a
fine, quick feint, he was attacking as sharply as lightning, the wall
seemed to give way, Mordaunt disappeared through the opening, and
D’Artagnan’s blade, caught between the panels, shivered like a sword of
glass. D’Artagnan sprang back; the wall had closed again.
Mordaunt, in fact, while defending himself, had manoeuvred so as to
reach the secret door by which Cromwell had left, had felt for the knob
with his left hand, pressed it and disappeared.
The Gascon uttered a furious imprecation, which was answered by a wild
laugh on the other side of the iron panel.
"Help me, gentlemen," cried D’Artagnan, "we must break in this door."
"It is the devil in person!" said Aramis, hastening forward.
"He escapes us," growled Porthos, pushing his huge shoulder against the
hinges, but in vain. "’Sblood! he escapes us."
"So much the better," muttered Athos.
"I thought as much," said D’Artagnan, wasting his strength in useless
efforts. "Zounds, I thought as much when the wretch kept moving around
the room. I thought he was up to something."
"It’s a misfortune, to which his friend, the devil, treats us," said
Aramis.
"It’s a piece of good fortune sent from Heaven," said Athos, evidently
much relieved.
"Really!" said D’Artagnan, abandoning the attempt to burst open the
panel after several ineffectual attempts, "Athos, I cannot imagine how
you can talk to us in that way. You cannot understand the position we
are in. In this kind of game, not to kill is to let one’s self be
killed. This fox of a fellow will be sending us a hundred iron-sided
beasts who will pick us off like sparrows in this place. Come, come, we
must be off. If we stay here five minutes more there’s an end of us."
"Yes, you are right."
"But where shall we go?" asked Porthos.
"To the hotel, to be sure, to get our baggage and horses; and from
there, if it please God, to France, where, at least, I understand the
architecture of the houses."
So, suiting the action to the word, D’Artagnan thrust the remnant of his
sword into its scabbard, picked up his hat and ran down the stairs,
followed by the others.
70. The Skiff "Lightning."
D’Artagnan had judged correctly; Mordaunt felt that he had no time to
lose, and he lost none. He knew the rapidity of decision and action that
characterized his enemies and resolved to act with reference to that.
This time the musketeers had an adversary who was worthy of them.
After closing the door carefully behind him Mordaunt glided into the
subterranean passage, sheathing on the way his now useless sword, and
thus reached the neighboring house, where he paused to examine himself
and to take breath.
"Good!" he said, "nothing, almost nothing--scratches, nothing more; two
in the arm and one in the breast. The wounds that I make are better than
that--witness the executioner of Bethune, my uncle and King Charles.
Now, not a second to lose, for a second lost will perhaps save them.
They must die--die all together--killed at one stroke by the thunder of
men in default of God’s. They must disappear, broken, scattered,
annihilated. I will run, then, till my legs no longer serve, till my
heart bursts in my bosom but I will arrive before they do."
Mordaunt proceeded at a rapid pace to the nearest cavalry barracks,
about a quarter of a league distant. He made that quarter of a league in
four or five minutes. Arrived at the barracks he made himself known,
took the best horse in the stables, mounted and gained the high road. A
quarter of an hour later he was at Greenwich.
"There is the port," he murmured. "That dark point yonder is the Isle of
Dogs. Good! I am half an hour in advance of them, an hour, perhaps. Fool
that I was! I have almost killed myself by my needless haste. Now," he
added, rising in the stirrups and looking about him, "which, I wonder,
is the Lightning?"
At this moment, as if in reply to his words, a man lying on a coil of
cables rose and advanced a few steps toward him. Mordaunt drew a
handkerchief from his pocket, and tying a knot at each corner--the
signal agreed upon--waved it in the air and the man came up to him. He
was wrapped in a large rough cape, which concealed his form and partly
his face.
"Do you wish to go on the water, sir?" said the sailor.
"Yes, just so. Along the Isle of Dogs."
"And perhaps you have a preference for one boat more than another. You
would like one that sails as rapidly as----"
"Lightning," interrupted Mordaunt.
"Then mine is the boat you want, sir. I’m your man."
"I begin to think so, particularly if you have not forgotten a certain
signal."
"Here it is, sir," and the sailor took from his coat a handkerchief,
tied at each corner.
"Good, quite right!" cried Mordaunt, springing off his horse. "There’s
not a moment to lose; now take my horse to the nearest inn and conduct
me to your vessel."
"But," asked the sailor, "where are your companions? I thought there
were four of you."
"Listen to me, sir. I’m not the man you take me for; you are in Captain
Rogers’s post, are you not? under orders from General Cromwell. Mine,
also, are from him!"
"Indeed, sir, I recognize you; you are Captain Mordaunt."
Mordaunt was startled.
"Oh, fear nothing," said the skipper, showing his face. "I am a friend."
"Captain Groslow!" cried Mordaunt.
"Himself. The general remembered that I had formerly been a naval
officer and he gave me the command of this expedition. Is there anything
new in the wind?"
"Nothing."
"I thought, perhaps, that the king’s death----"
"Has only hastened their flight; in ten minutes they will perhaps be
here."
"What have you come for, then?"
"To embark with you."
"Ah! ah! the general doubted my fidelity?"
"No, but I wish to have a share in my revenge. Haven’t you some one who
will relieve me of my horse?"
Groslow whistled and a sailor appeared.
"Patrick," said Groslow, "take this horse to the stables of the nearest
inn. If any one asks you whose it is you can say that it belongs to an
Irish gentleman."
The sailor departed without reply.
"Now," said Mordaunt, "are you not afraid that they will recognize you?"
"There is no danger, dressed as I am in this pilot coat, on a night as
dark as this. Besides even you didn’t recognize me; they will be much
less likely to."
"That is true," said Mordaunt, "and they will be far from thinking of
you. Everything is ready, is it not?"
"Yes."
"The cargo on board?"
"Yes."
"Five full casks?"
"And fifty empty ones."
"Good."
"We are carrying port wine to Anvers."
"Excellent. Now take me aboard and return to your post, for they will
soon be here."
"I am ready."
"It is important that none of your crew should see me."
"I have but one man on board, and I am as sure of him as I am of myself.
Besides, he doesn’t know you; like his mates he is ready to obey our
orders knowing nothing of our plan."
"Very well; let us go."
They then went down to the Thames. A boat was fastened to the shore by a
chain fixed to a stake. Groslow jumped in, followed by Mordaunt, and in
five minutes they were quite away from that world of houses which then
crowded the outskirts of London; and Mordaunt could discern the little
vessel riding at anchor near the Isle of Dogs. When they reached the
side of this felucca, Mordaunt, dexterous in his eagerness for
vengeance, seized a rope and climbed up the side of the vessel with a
coolness and agility very rare among landsmen. He went with Groslow to
the captain’s berth, a sort of temporary cabin of planks, for the chief
apartment had been given up by Captain Rogers to the passengers, who
were to be accommodated at the other end of the boat.
"They will have nothing to do, then at this end?" said Mordaunt.
"Nothing at all."
"That’s a capital arrangement. Return to Greenwich and bring them here.
I shall hide myself in your cabin. You have a longboat?"
"That in which we came."
"It appeared light and well constructed."
"Quite a canoe."
"Fasten it to the poop with a rope; put the oars into it, so that it may
follow in the track and there will be nothing to do except to cut the
cord. Put a good supply of rum and biscuit in it for the seamen; should
the night happen to be stormy they will not be sorry to find something
to console themselves with."
"Consider all this done. Do you wish to see the powder-room?"
"No. When you return I will set the fuse myself, but be careful to
conceal your face, so that you cannot be recognized by them."
"Never fear."
"There’s ten o’clock striking at Greenwich."
Groslow, then, having given the sailor on duty an order to be on the
watch with more than usual vigilance, went down into the longboat and
soon reached Greenwich. The wind was chilly and the jetty was deserted,
as he approached it; but he had no sooner landed than he heard a noise
of horses galloping upon the paved road.
These horsemen were our friends, or rather, an avant garde, composed of
D’Artagnan and Athos. As soon as they arrived at the spot where Groslow
stood they stopped, as if guessing that he was the man they wanted.
Athos alighted and calmly opened the handkerchief tied at each corner,
whilst D’Artagnan, ever cautious, remained on horseback, one hand upon
his pistol, leaning forward watchfully.
On seeing the appointed signal, Groslow, who had at first crept behind
one of the cannon planted on that spot, walked straight up to the
gentlemen. He was so well wrapped up in his cloak that it would have
been impossible to see his face even if the night had not been so dark
as to render precaution superfluous; nevertheless, the keen glance of
Athos perceived at once it was not Rogers who stood before them.
"What do you want with us?" he asked of Groslow.
"I wish to inform you, my lord," replied Groslow, with an Irish accent,
feigned of course, "that if you are looking for Captain Rogers you will
not find him. He fell down this morning and broke his leg. But I’m his
cousin; he told me everything and desired me to watch instead of him,
and in his place to conduct, wherever they wished to go, the gentlemen
who should bring me a handkerchief tied at each corner, like that one
which you hold and one which I have in my pocket."
And he drew out the handkerchief.
"Was that all he said?" inquired Athos.
"No, my lord; he said you had engaged to pay seventy pounds if I landed
you safe and sound at Boulogne or any other port you choose in France."
"What do you think of all this?" said Athos, in a low tone to
D’Artagnan, after explaining to him in French what the sailor had said
in English.
"It seems a likely story to me."
"And to me, too."
"Besides, we can but blow out his brains if he proves false," said the
Gascon; "and you, Athos, you know something of everything and can be our
captain. I dare say you know how to navigate, should he fail us."
"My dear friend, you guess well. My father meant me for the navy and I
have some vague notions about navigation."
"You see!" cried D’Artagnan.
They then summoned their friends, who, with Blaisois, Mousqueton and
Grimaud, promptly joined them, leaving Parry behind them, who was to
take back to London the horses of the gentlemen and of their lackeys,
which had been sold to the host in settlement of their account with him.
Thanks to this stroke of business the four friends were able to take
away with them a sum of money which, if not large, was sufficient as a
provision against delays and accidents.
Parry parted from his friends regretfully; they had proposed his going
with them to France, but he had straightway declined.
"It is very simple," Mousqueton had said; "he is thinking of Groslow."
It was Captain Groslow, the reader will remember, who had broken Parry’s
head.
D’Artagnan resumed immediately the attitude of distrust that was
habitual with him. He found the wharf too completely deserted, the night
too dark, the captain too accommodating. He had reported to Aramis what
had taken place, and Aramis, not less distrustful than he, had increased
his suspicions. A slight click of the tongue against his teeth informed
Athos of the Gascon’s uneasiness.
"We have no time now for suspicions," said Athos. "The boat is waiting
for us; come."
"Besides," said Aramis, "what prevents our being distrustful and going
aboard at the same time? We can watch the skipper."
"And if he doesn’t go straight I will crush him, that’s all."
"Well said, Porthos," replied D’Artagnan. "Let us go, then. You first,
Mousqueton," and he stopped his friends, directing the valets to go
first, in order to test the plank leading from the pier to the boat.
The three valets passed without accident. Athos followed them, then
Porthos, then Aramis. D’Artagnan went last, still shaking his head.
"What in the devil is the matter with you, my friend?" said Porthos.
"Upon my word you would make Caesar afraid."
"The matter is," replied D’Artagnan, "that I can see upon this pier
neither inspector nor sentinel nor exciseman."
"And you complain of that!" said Porthos. "Everything goes as if in
flowery paths."
"Everything goes too well, Porthos. But no matter; we must trust in
God."
As soon as the plank was withdrawn the captain took his place at the
tiller and made a sign to one of the sailors, who, boat-hook in hand,
began to push out from the labyrinth of boats in which they were
involved. The other sailor had already seated himself on the port side
and was ready to row. As soon as there was room for rowing, his
companion rejoined him and the boat began to move more rapidly.
"At last we are off!" exclaimed Porthos.
"Alas," said Athos, "we depart alone."
"Yes; but all four together and without a scratch; which is a
consolation."
"We are not yet at our destination," observed the prudent D’Artagnan;
"beware of misadventure."
"Ah, my friend!" cried Porthos, "like the crows, you always bring bad
omens. Who could intercept us on such a night as this, pitch dark, when
one does not see more than twenty yards before one?"
"Yes, but to-morrow morning----"
"To-morrow we shall be at Boulogne."
"I hope so, with all my heart," said the Gascon, "and I confess my
weakness. Yes, Athos, you may laugh, but as long as we were within
gunshot of the pier or of the vessels lying by it I was looking for a
frightful discharge of musketry which would crush us."
"But," said Porthos, with great wisdom, "that was impossible, for they
would have killed the captain and the sailors."
"Bah! much Monsieur Mordaunt would care. You don’t imagine he would
consider a little thing like that?"
"At any rate," said Porthos, "I am glad to hear D’Artagnan admit that he
is afraid."
"I not only confess it, but am proud of it," returned the Gascon; "I’m
not such a rhinoceros as you are. Oho! what’s that?"
"The Lightning," answered the captain, "our felucca."
"So far, so good," laughed Athos.
They went on board and the captain instantly conducted them to the berth
prepared for them--a cabin which was to serve for all purposes and for
the whole party; he then tried to slip away under pretext of giving
orders to some one.
"Stop a moment," cried D’Artagnan; "pray how many men have you on board,
captain?"
"I don’t understand," was the reply.
"Explain it, Athos."
Groslow, on the question being interpreted, answered, "Three, without
counting myself."
D’Artagnan understood, for while replying the captain had raised three
fingers. "Oh!" he exclaimed, "I begin to be more at my ease, however,
whilst you settle yourselves, I shall make the round of the boat."
"As for me," said Porthos, "I will see to the supper."
"A very good idea, Porthos," said the Gascon. "Athos lend me Grimaud,
who in the society of his friend Parry has perhaps picked up a little
English, and can act as my interpreter."
"Go, Grimaud," said Athos.
D’Artagnan, finding a lantern on the deck, took it up and with a pistol
in his hand he said to the captain, in English, "Come," (being, with the
classic English oath, the only English words he knew), and so saying he
descended to the lower deck.
This was divided into three compartments--one which was covered by the
floor of that room in which Athos, Porthos and Aramis were to pass the
night; the second was to serve as the sleeping-room for the servants,
the third, under the prow of the ship, was under the temporary cabin in
which Mordaunt was concealed.
"Oho!" cried D’Artagnan, as he went down the steps of the hatchway,
preceded by the lantern, "what a number of barrels! one would think one
was in the cave of Ali Baba. What is there in them?" he added, putting
his lantern on one of the casks.
The captain seemed inclined to go upon deck again, but controlling
himself he answered:
"Port wine."
"Ah! port wine! ’tis a comfort," said the Gascon, "since we shall not die of thirst. Are they all full?" |
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