Foul Play [52]
figure-head of the ship looming almost within his reach. It was a colossal green woman; one arm extended grasped a golden harp, the other was pressed to her head in the attitude of holding back her wild and flowing hair. The face seemed to glare down upon the two men. In another moment the monster, gliding on, just missing the brig, was lost in the fog.
"That was a narrow squeak," said Slocum.
Wylie made no answer, but looked into the darkness after the vessel.
He had recognized her figure-head.
It was the _Shannon!_
CHAPTER XIV.
BEFORE the _Maria_ sailed again, with the men who formed a part of Wylie's crew, he made them sign a declaration before the English Consul at Buenos Ayres. This document set forth the manner in which the _Proserpine_ foundered; it was artfully made up of facts enough to deceive a careless listener; but, when Wylie read it over to them he slurred over certain parts, which he took care, also, to express in language above the comprehension of such men. Of course they assented eagerly to what they did not understand, and signed the statement conscientiously.
So Wylie and his three men were shipped on board the _Boadicea,_ bound for Liverpool, in Old England, while the others sailed with Captain Slocum for Nantucket, in New England.
The _Boadicea_ was a clipper laden with hides and a miscellaneous cargo. For seventeen days she flew before a southerly gale, being on her best sailing point, and, after one of the shortest passages she had ever made, she lay to, outside the bar, off the Mersey. It wanted but one hour to daylight, the tide was flowing; the pilot sprang aboard.
"What do you draw?" he asked of the master.
"Fifteen feet, barely," was the reply.
"That will do," and the vessel's head was laid for the river.
They passed a large bark, with her topsails backed.
"Ay," remarked the pilot, "she has waited since the half-ebb; there ain't more than four hours in the twenty-four that such craft as that can get in."
"What is she? An American liner?" asked Wylie, peering through the gloom.
"No," said the pilot; "she's an Australian ship. She's the _Shannon,_ from Sydney."
The mate started, looked at the man, then at the vessel. Twice the _Shannon_ had thus met him, as if to satisfy him that his object had been attained, and each time she seemed to him not an inanimate thing, but a silent accomplice. A chill of fear struck through the man's frame as he looked at her. Yes, there she lay, and in her hold were safely stowed 160,000 pounds in gold, marked lead and copper.
Wylie had no luggage nor effects to detain him on board; he landed, and, having bestowed his three companions in a sailors' boarding-house, he was hastening to the shipping agents of Wardlaw & Son to announce his arrival and the fate of the _Proserpine._ He had reached their offices in Water Street before he recollected that it was barely half past five o'clock, and, though broad daylight on that July morning, merchants' offices are not open at that hour. The sight of the _Shannon_ had so bewildered him that he had not noticed that the shops were all shut, the streets deserted. Then a thought occurred to him--why not be a bearer of his own news? He did not require to turn the idea twice over, but resolved, for many reasons, to adopt it. As he hurried to the railway station, he tried to recollect the hour at which the early train started; but his confused and excited mind refused to perform the function of memory. The _Shannon_ dazed him.
At the railway-station he found that a train had started at 4 A.M., and there was nothing until 7:30. This check sobered him a little, and he went back to the docks; he walked out to the farther end of that noble line of berths, and sat down on the verge with his legs dangling over the water. He waited an hour; it was six. o'clock by the great dial at St. George's Dock. His eyes were fixed on the _Shannon,_ which was moving slowly up the river; she came abreast to where he sat. The few sails requisite to give her steerage fell. Her anchor-chain rattled,
"That was a narrow squeak," said Slocum.
Wylie made no answer, but looked into the darkness after the vessel.
He had recognized her figure-head.
It was the _Shannon!_
CHAPTER XIV.
BEFORE the _Maria_ sailed again, with the men who formed a part of Wylie's crew, he made them sign a declaration before the English Consul at Buenos Ayres. This document set forth the manner in which the _Proserpine_ foundered; it was artfully made up of facts enough to deceive a careless listener; but, when Wylie read it over to them he slurred over certain parts, which he took care, also, to express in language above the comprehension of such men. Of course they assented eagerly to what they did not understand, and signed the statement conscientiously.
So Wylie and his three men were shipped on board the _Boadicea,_ bound for Liverpool, in Old England, while the others sailed with Captain Slocum for Nantucket, in New England.
The _Boadicea_ was a clipper laden with hides and a miscellaneous cargo. For seventeen days she flew before a southerly gale, being on her best sailing point, and, after one of the shortest passages she had ever made, she lay to, outside the bar, off the Mersey. It wanted but one hour to daylight, the tide was flowing; the pilot sprang aboard.
"What do you draw?" he asked of the master.
"Fifteen feet, barely," was the reply.
"That will do," and the vessel's head was laid for the river.
They passed a large bark, with her topsails backed.
"Ay," remarked the pilot, "she has waited since the half-ebb; there ain't more than four hours in the twenty-four that such craft as that can get in."
"What is she? An American liner?" asked Wylie, peering through the gloom.
"No," said the pilot; "she's an Australian ship. She's the _Shannon,_ from Sydney."
The mate started, looked at the man, then at the vessel. Twice the _Shannon_ had thus met him, as if to satisfy him that his object had been attained, and each time she seemed to him not an inanimate thing, but a silent accomplice. A chill of fear struck through the man's frame as he looked at her. Yes, there she lay, and in her hold were safely stowed 160,000 pounds in gold, marked lead and copper.
Wylie had no luggage nor effects to detain him on board; he landed, and, having bestowed his three companions in a sailors' boarding-house, he was hastening to the shipping agents of Wardlaw & Son to announce his arrival and the fate of the _Proserpine._ He had reached their offices in Water Street before he recollected that it was barely half past five o'clock, and, though broad daylight on that July morning, merchants' offices are not open at that hour. The sight of the _Shannon_ had so bewildered him that he had not noticed that the shops were all shut, the streets deserted. Then a thought occurred to him--why not be a bearer of his own news? He did not require to turn the idea twice over, but resolved, for many reasons, to adopt it. As he hurried to the railway station, he tried to recollect the hour at which the early train started; but his confused and excited mind refused to perform the function of memory. The _Shannon_ dazed him.
At the railway-station he found that a train had started at 4 A.M., and there was nothing until 7:30. This check sobered him a little, and he went back to the docks; he walked out to the farther end of that noble line of berths, and sat down on the verge with his legs dangling over the water. He waited an hour; it was six. o'clock by the great dial at St. George's Dock. His eyes were fixed on the _Shannon,_ which was moving slowly up the river; she came abreast to where he sat. The few sails requisite to give her steerage fell. Her anchor-chain rattled,