"Monsieur Enrico!" called Brunel. "Come alongside, if you please. There are only three of us on board, but we may find you some entertainment."
"Bon!" came the reply, and Cartier, rubbing his hands gleefully, echoed it.
The lantern-hung boat glided up to the sloop's side. Brunel noted that the men at the oars appeared to be two of Enrico's troupe, as they were in fantastic costumes. But he thought no more about it, nor did he see the two boatmen lying unconscious under the thwarts. As for Cartier, he was staring at the wearers of the gaily-coloured dresses.
"I don't think much of the fat one," he muttered in the Lieutenant's ear. "She must be the Bearded Lady of the troupe. The little one looks all right, though."
Brunel waved him aside impatiently. Later he was to wish he had paid more attention to Cartier's first remark. (Seaman Wallace, who had not shaved for flve days, was indeed showing a very hairy cheek for a young lady.) The boat made fast, and a dapper gentleman in her bows looked up inquiringly at the two officers. In the yellow lantern-light they could see that he wore spectacles and a pointed moustache and beard, and was dressed in a black satin Court costume.
"May we come on board, M. Ie Capitaine?" he asked deferentially.
"Please do so," replied BruneI, "and bring your friends. Perhaps you'll pass up a lantern or two--we've not much light on deck here and it's getting dark."
"Thank you, sir--certainly I will do so."
"Dreadful accent the Italian fellow's got," murmured Cartier. "Diabie, Lieutenant!" he added. "We'd better get some wine on deck. I'll call Lemaire, shall I?"
Without waiting for Brunel's reply he shouted the French seacook's name. Meanwhile, the Great Enrico and his Troupe were clambering on board. Their leader greeted Lieutenant Brunel with a great deal of bowing and graceful gesture, while a giant in a leopard skin, a golden-haired girl in white, a very broad girl in yellow, and three gaudily attired men swung themselves on board. Cartier was struck with the amazing ease with which the ladies of the troupe climbed to the deck--even the fat one he had named "the Bearded Lady". Two of the men had brought lanterns up from the boat, but the light showed very little of the newcomers' faces. Cartier bowed to the smaller of the two girls.
"Your humble servant, mademoiselle," he said with a bold glance. "Welcome to the warship Chasseur."
The lady, who had a pert monkey-like face and heavily-rouged cheeks, narrowly escaped falling over as she attempted to curtsey. She made no reply except a high-pitched giggle, and rolled her eyes at him alarmingly. That was Seaman Eccles's idea of ladylike behaviour. Before Cartier could continue this interesting conversation the French seaman Lemaire came hurrying aft along the shadowy deck. As he reached the Lieutenant he gasped at the sight of the strange figures, half-visible in the glimmer of light from the lanterns, that stood about the deck round his commanding officer.
"Monsieur Enrico and his friends will take wine, Lemaire. Bring up three bottles of the Bordeaux," ordered Brunel.
"Qui, M. le Lieutenant," stammered the man. His eyes were goggling at the huge man in leopard-skin, and he made no move to obey.
"Well, fool?" snapped Brunel. "Are you asleep? Go!"
"Qui, oui, monsieur!" Lemaire turned hastily to obey.
"Do not go yet, Lemaire," said a new voice sharply. "My Strong Man wishes to speak to you."
The Frenchman halted at the Great Enrico's words. The Strong Man stepped up to him and spoke in a strange tongue.
"By your leave, messmate!"
His clenched fist rose and fell. Lemaire, struck on the crown of the head, fell to the deck.
"What in the name of-"
BruneI had no chance to say more. Two of the gaudily-clad fellows had seized his arms while the Great Enrico clapped a hand tightly over his mouth. At the same time Cartier found himself in the far-from-Ioving embraces of the two "ladies" and discovered that the hand of the Bearded Lady, which was pressed firmly upon the lower part of his face, was exceedingly hard and horny. In five minutes the three Frenchmen who had been left on board the Chasseur were lying gagged and bound in their bunks below decks and the sloop was in the hands of the Great Enrico and his Troupe.
It was Beamish who had seen the trim little vessel lying well out on the harbour waters as the Troupe gambolled its way among the merry-makers on the quays. He had muttered in his leader's ear that if they could get aboard that craft, they would have a fast sailer and a worthy prize. Septimus, after some rapid thought, had decided to take the chance. He had led his men to one of the many boats that plied for hire about the harbour and ordered the two boatmen, in a lordly manner, to pull out to the sloop, where--he asserted--they had been invited to perform before the captain.
It had been a simple matter to deal with the two boatmen. The moment the boat passed behind the hull of a fishing-vessel and was hidden from the quays, the oarsmen had been pulled over backwards and sat on, while two of the Troupe took their places. Luck had been with them on their arrival at the sloop, for the officer in charge had himself revealed that there were only three men on board.
Now came an even trickier part of the business. There was a light breeze, just sufficient to move the sloop out of harbour. But she would have to pass the entrance between two jetties or moles, each of which was certain to have cannons emplaced on it and men on watch. It would not do to risk being fired into from both sides.
Septimus cast a rapid glance all round his captured vessel. There was no other craft near her, and it was unlikely that anyone had seen, in the deepening twilight with its many sparkling lights, the neat disposal of her officers. Leaving Beamish to superintend the preparation of the mainsail and jib for hoisting, the midshipman selected Dobbs as having the most territying aspect of all his men, and took him below. Cartier had seemed the less reliable of the two French officers and it was to his cabin that he went with his henchman.
Cartier, lying trussed and gagged on his bunk, twitched with terror, as in the dim lantern-light he saw the fierce-looking Dobbs--now without his disguise--showing his teeth and flourishing a large knife filched from the galley. It was scarcely necessary for Septimus to point out, as he did, that unless Cartier helped them through the harbour entrance they might be fired into, and both Cartier and BruneI might be killed. Faced with the piratical Dobbs and his knife, Cartier hastily agreed to tell them what lights should be shown and to answer the hail of the harbour watch.
Moving ghost-like through the summer night, a small vessel with a graceful single mast and two sails set crept into the narrow passage which led out of Marseilles harbour. From the jibboom hung two lanterns, one above the other.
"What vessel's that?" came the hail from the mole on the starboard hand.
"Chasseur-Captain Desmoulins!"
"Whither bound?"
"On night manoeuvres!"
"That's Sous-Officier Cartier speaking, sir," said the sergeant of gunners to his officer.
"Pass, Chasseur--and good fortune to you!" shouted the officer, adding to his sergeant, "Desmoulins is getting very dutiful--manoeuvres on carnival night, pardieu!"
The sloop glided slowly out of the harbour entrance. Philippe Cartier, who had been speaking with some difficulty owing to the fact that the point of Seaman Dobbs's knife was pricking the back of his neck, was escorted below.
"Make sail, Mr. Beamish, if you please," ordered her new commander, no longer the Great Enrico but Mr. Midshipman Septimus Quinn. "And don't raise your voice," he added. "We're still within earshot of the moles."