The Shoes of Fortune. Munro Neil
and waiting for the ferry cry upon the shore of Time. We were still in the estuary or firth, to judge by the bickering burn and the odors off-shore, above all the odour of rotting brake; and we rode at anchor, for her bows were up-water to the wind and tide, and above me, in the darkness, I could hear the idle sails faintly flapping in the breeze and the reef-points all tap-tapping. I seemed to have the deck alone, but for one figure at the stern; I went back, and found that it was Horn.
“Where are we?” I asked, relieved to find there the only man I could trust on board the ship.
“A little below Blackness,” said he shortly with a dissatisfied tone.
“I did not know we were to stop here,” said I, wondering if he knew that I was doomed.
“Neither did I,” said he, peering into the void of night. “And whit’s mair, I wish I could guess the reason o’ oor stopping. The skipper’s been ashore mair nor ance wi’ the lang-boat forward there, and I’m sent back here to keep an e’e on lord kens what except it be yersel’.”
“Are ye indeed?” said I, exceedingly vexed. “Then I ken too well, Horn, the reason for the stoppage. You are to keep your eye on a man who’s being bargained for with the hangman.”
“I would rather ken naithin’ about that,” said he, “and onyway I think ye’re mistaken. Here they’re comin’ back again.”
Two or three small boats were coming down on us out of the darkness; not that I could see them, but that I heard their oars in muffled rowlocks.
“If they want me,” said I sorrowfully, “they can find me down below,” and back I went and sat me in the cabin, prepared for the manacles.
CHAPTER X
THE STRUGGLE IN THE CABIN, AND AN EERIE SOUND OF RUNNING WATER
The place stank with bilge and the odour of an ill-trimmed lamp smoking from a beam; the fragments of the skipper’s supper were on the table, with a broken quadrant; rats scurried and squealed in the bulkheads, and one stared at me from an open locker, where lay a rum-bottle, while beetles and slaters travelled along the timbers. But these things compelled my attention less than the skylights that were masked internally by pieces of canvas nailed roughly on them. They were not so earlier in the evening; it must have been done after I had gone to sleep, and what could be the object? That puzzled me extremely, for it must have been the same hand that had extinguished all the deck and mast lights, and though black was my crime darkness was unnecessary to my betrayal.
I waited with a heart like lead.
I heard the boats swung up on the davits, the squeak of the falls, the tread of the seamen, the voice of Risk in an unusually low tone. In the bows in a little I heard the windlass click and the chains rasp in the hawse-holes; we were lifting the anchor.
For a moment hope possessed me. If we were weighing anchor then my arrest was not imminent at least; but that consolation lasted briefly when I thought of the numerous alternatives to imprisonment in Blackness.
We were under weigh again; there was a heel to port, and a more rapid plop of the waters along the carvel planks. And then Risk and his mate came down.
I have seldom seen a man more dashed than the skipper when he saw me sitting waiting on him, clothed and silent. His face grew livid; round he turned to Murchison and hurried him with oaths to come and clap eyes on this sea-clerk. I looked for the officer behind them, but they were alone, and at that I thought more cheerfully I might have been mistaken about the night’s curious proceedings.
“Anything wrang?” said Risk, affecting nonchalance now that his spate of oaths was by, and he pulled the rum out of the locker and helped himself and his mate to a swingeing caulker.
“Oh, nothing at all,” said I, “at least nothing that I know of, Captain Risk. And are we – are we – at Halifax already?”
“What do you mean?” said he. And then he looked at me closely, put out the hand unoccupied by his glass and ran an insolent dirty finger over my new-clipped mole. “Greig, Greig,” said he, “Greig to a hair! I would have the wee shears to that again, for its growin’.”
“You’re a very noticing man,” said I, striking down his hand no way gently, and remembering that he had seen my scissors when I emerged from the Borrowstouness close after my own barbering.
“I’m all that,” he replied, with a laugh, and all the time Murchison, the mate, sat mopping his greasy face with a rag, as one after hard work, and looked on us with wonder at what we meant. “I’m all that,” he replied, “the hair aff the mole and the horse-hair on your creased breeches wad hae tauld ony ane that ye had ridden in a hurry and clipped in a fricht o’ discovery.”
“Oh, oh!” I cried, “and that’s what goes to the makin’ o’ a Mahoun!”
“Jist that,” said he, throwing himself on a seat with an easy indifference meant to conceal his vanity. “Jist observation and a knack o’ puttin’ twa and twa thegether. Did ye think the skipper o’ the Seven Sisters was fleein’ over Scotland at the tail o’ your horse?”
“The Greig mole’s weel kent, surely,” said I, astonished and chagrined. “I jalouse it’s notorious through my Uncle Andy?”
Risk laughed at that. “Oh, ay!” said he, “when Andy Greig girned at ye it was ill to miss seein’ his mole. Man, ye might as well wear your name on the front o’ your hat as gae aboot wi’ a mole like that – and – and that pair o’ shoes.”
The blood ran to my face at this further revelation of his astuteness. It seemed, then, I carried my identity head and foot, and it was no wonder a halfeyed man like Risk should so easily discover me. I looked down at my feet, and sure enough, when I thought of it now, it would have been a stupid man who, having seen these kenspeckle shoes once, would ever forget them.
“My uncle seems to have given me good introductions,” said I. “They struck mysel’ as rather dandy for a ship,” broke in the mate, at last coming on something he could understand.
“And did you know Andy Greig, too?” said I. “Andy Greig,” he replied. “Not me!”
“Then, by God, ye hinna sailed muckle aboot the warld!” said the skipper. “I hae seen thae shoes in the four quarters and aye in a good companionship.”
“They appear yet to retain that virtue,” said I, unable to resist the irony. “And, by the way, Captain Risk, now that we have discussed the shoes and my mole, what have we been waiting for at Blackness?”
His face grew black with annoyance.
“What’s that to you?” he cried.
“Oh, I don’t know,” I answered indifferently. “I thought that now ye had got the best part o’ your passage money ye might hae been thinking to do something for your country again. They tell me it’s a jail in there, and it might suggest itself to you as providing a good opportunity for getting rid of a very indifferent purser.”
It is one thing I can remember to the man’s credit that this innuendo of treachery seemed to make him frantic. He dashed the rum-glass at his feet and struck at me with a fist like a jigot of mutton, and I had barely time to step back and counter. He threw himself at me as he had been a cat; I closed and flung my arms about him with a wrestler’s grip, and bent him back upon the table edge, where I might have broken his spine but for Murchison’s interference. The mate called loudly for assistance; footsteps pounded on the cuddy-stair, and down came Horn. Between them they drew us apart, and while Murchison clung to his captain, and plied him into quietness with a fresh glass of grog, Horn thrust me not unkindly out into the night, and with no unwillingness on my part.
It was the hour of dawn, and the haar was gone.
There was something in that chill grey monotone of sky and sea that filled me with a very passion of melancholy. The wind had risen, and the billows ran frothing from the east; enormous clouds hung over the land behind us, so that it seemed to roll with smoke from the eternal fires. Out from that reeking pit of my remorse – that lost Scotland where now