Gervase slept soundly that night on board the Phoenix, and in the morning the mate insisted on his making use of his shore-going suit, into which Gervase was able to get with some difficulty. When he came on deck the day was bright and cloudless, with a warm sweet air blowing from the north-west and the sea hardly broken by a ripple. The ships lay at anchor near them; the Dartmouth with her rows of guns showing through the open ports; beyond lay the Swallow and a little further away the Mountjoy, both of which vessels Gervase had seen before.
But his first glance was toward the city lying far up the river, and he was filled with joy when he caught sight of the crimson flag still flying from the Cathedral Tower.
The master was early astir and met Gervase on the deck, with his red face freshly shaven and clad in his best suit which had been brought out for the occasion. He was very contrite over his last night′s potations, and made many polite inquiries as to how his guest had passed the night. The anxiety of Gervase to be put on board the Swallow 314to deliver his message to Kirke, was so great that he could hardly restrain his impatience during the breakfast to which the master and himself sat down together. But they had assured him that the Colonel had not slept off the fumes of his last night′s excesses, and that of all men he was the least approachable in the morning. It was necessary to find Kirke in good humour; so Gervase stifled his impatience, though his feelings were so strong and so bitter that he doubted whether a less fitting messenger than himself could have been found for his errand.
“Ye′ll just tell him your plain story like a plain man,” said the mate, “and leave the rest in the hands of the Almighty. I know ye′ll find it hard to shorten sail, but ′tis the only way ye′ll make the port after all.”
“I don′t understand the matter at all,” Gervase answered. “Here am I with a message to yon sluggard that should make his ears tingle for the duty he has neglected and the days he has wasted in useless waiting. One would think ′twas a favour I was begging at his hands. When His Majesty hears----”
“Tut, man, His Majesty--God bless him! will never come to know the rights of it. Just put your pride in your pocket and take as a favour--when ye get it--what should come to you by right. I don′t see myself that the thing is as easy as ye make it. A ship′s timbers are dainty enough, and yon boom′s an ugly sort of thing; not to speak of 315the cannon in the forts and the channel--that′s ticklish at the best of times.”
“When a kingdom′s at stake, one might run a little danger without being foolhardy.”
“I′m not saying that he mightn′t and I would willingly try it myself if I had the chance, but you must make allowances. I hear they had a parson aboard there the other day who gave them some plain speech and got a flea in his ear for his pains. Fair and softly will carry for many a mile. I′ll go with you myself and maybe put in a good word if I can. The boats are ready and we′ll be alongside in a twinkling.”
As they rowed towards the Swallow, which carried Kirke′s flag, Gervase′s mind was full of the way in which he should deliver his message, while Douglas sat beside him pouring his homely counsel into his ear. It was evident that the latter stood in no little dread of the commander who had won for himself an unenviable notoriety for cruelty and severity, and was clearly doubtful of the reception that awaited an envoy who knew so little regarding the character of the man with whom he had to deal. But Gervase had determined that if all else failed he would speak out his mind without any fear of the consequences. He had not undertaken this perilous journey and faced so many dangers to shrink from plain speech if that would serve his purpose.
The master of the Phoenix on the news being 316brought that Kirke would receive them immediately in the gunroom, was like to have turned tail incontinently and left Gervase to face the redoubtable soldier alone. “The boatswain yonder is an old crony of mine,” he said, “and we don′t often have a chance of a quiet word. I wish you all luck, but I think I′ll step forward and have a bit of speech while you do your errand.”
“By your leave, but the General must see you both, Master Douglas,” said the man who had brought the message; “if you don′t come now I′ll have to fetch you by the ears by-and-by. He hath ten thousand blue devils tearing his liver this morning, so that we cannot bind or hold him. But you have seen the General after a wet night with a head wind in the morning.”
“I was a fool to come aboard,” Douglas muttered. “Speak to him fair and soft, Mr. Orme,” he continued, taking Gervase by the arm, “if ye would have the tyke listen to ye, but for God′s sake don′t cross him.”
“I′ll tell him a plain story that wants no gloss,” Gervase answered. “You need not be afraid that I shall speak outside my commission. Now, sir, I am at your service.”
“He′ll get a flea in his ear,” muttered Douglas, letting go his arm, and dropping behind. “Send me well out of this.”
When they entered the gunroom, Gervase saw a small knot of officers seated at breakfast, which was nearly over. At the head of the table was the 317man he had come so far to seek and who carried the destiny of the city in his hands. His dark brow was blotched and seamed by excesses, his eyes were prominent and bloodshot, and his jaws, heavy and coarse, gave to his face an expression of ferocity and obstinacy. He lay back lazily in his chair, his throat divested of his cravat, and his richly-laced waistcoat unbuttoned and thrown open. For a time he did not seem to notice the new-comers, but continued his conversation in a languid way with the gentleman who sat on his left hand. Gervase who had come into the centre of the room, stood silent for a minute or two, waiting for some sign of recognition, but Kirke, studiously ignoring his presence, never once looked up. Then Gervase stung into action by what seemed merely studied insult, quietly came forward and laid Walker′s letter on the table.
“I was charged, sir, to deliver this into your hand without fail at the earliest moment. It brooks of no delay.”
“And who the devil are you, sir?”
“A humble gentleman who with some peril to himself has succeeded in escaping from the city and finding his way thither. But the letter I carry will tell its own tale.”
“They might have chosen a messenger with better manners,” said Kirke, taking up the missive, “but these citizens know no better.”
“These citizens, sir, have set you a lesson which you have not been fain to follow,” cried Gervase, 318disregarding all the hints he had received and giving vent to the indignation that had become ungovernable. “For nine weeks they have served His Majesty as king was never served before; spent themselves in his service; seen their wives and children dying before them; and now they want to know what you have done and what you purpose doing?”
For a moment or two the general, who was not accustomed to such speech in the mouth of a rough seaman, as Gervase seemed, sat astonished and aghast. Then he leapt to his feet and pushed over the chair he had been sitting on. “God′s wounds! I′ll teach you to use such words to me if there′s a yard-arm on the ship. Who are you that dares to question me in my own vessel. You hear him, gentlemen, you hear him, by ----”
“They have heard us both, sir, and I wish His Majesty could have heard us also,” cried Gervase, who saw that there was only one way to deal with the hectoring bully of whom most men stood in awe. “They have heard us and they may judge between us. I hold the King′s commission like yourself, and can answer for my conduct in any fitting time or place. But this matter is of more importance than your dignity or mine. The salvation of some thousand lives depends upon it, and the last hold of His Majesty upon Ulster and Ireland. Colonel Walker hath bidden me place this letter in your hands without delay. I have only done my duty, and am no whit afraid of you or of any other man living.”
319Gervase had spoken quietly and with a fine glow on his cheeks. The gentlemen at the table who had preserved an expectant silence, looked at one another with a chuckle of amusement as Kirke broke the envelope without a word. In the reading he glanced once or twice at Gervase, and when he had finished he threw the paper with an oath ............