Norton, Andre - Novel 08 (20 page)

 
          
 
"Now!"
Crofts breathed in Fitz's ear and gave him a little shove forward.

 
          
 
The two British officers nearest to them were
exchanging raw sallies of wit with Mike, whose impudence was open but impish
enough to amuse them. As the party moved down toward the gate Crofts and Fitz
became a part of it, cloaks turned up about their jaws, as were those of the
others, their faces only a sliver of white to be seen between collar and hat.

 
          
 
Fitz thought afterward that he did not really
breathe for the few minutes it took to stroll between the walls, to return the
courtesies of the sentries, to wait for the clang of the gate behind them.
When that came at last, his breath went out of him in a sigh.
Crofts' hand was on his arm, pulling up his pace to that approximating a
stroll.

 
          
 
"Let them get well ahead," the
Captain said in a half-whisper which went unnoticed in a loud dispute over the
proper place to find a bottle of the right stuff to drive the deuced wet out of
one's bones. "One block down we turn right—they should go
left "

 
          
 
He began to talk in a louder tone of some wine
he had once drunk in
Lisbon
, a vile vintage which had sickened him for a week, and Fitz added the
proper assents when required. Never had a block stretched so long. The houses
and shops were a gray blur not unlike the walls of the prison.

 
          
 
"Here." He obediently swung right,
trying to keep to the calm pace Crofts had set, expecting at any moment to hear
a threatening hail from behind. His shoulders hunched as he imagined the impact
of a musket ball on the flesh between them.

 
          
 
Crofts let go his clutch on the marine's arm.
The Captain was dabbing his face with a handkerchief, and when he glanced at
Fitz he laughed.

 
          
 
"I must be getting too old for such games
of chance. It is all very well to spur a main with fate if you're top cock—but
a little trying on the nerves. Let's see," he put aside the handkerchief
and became his usual brisk self. "Sixth house down, dolphin for a knocker
. . . Yes, here's our anchorage!"

 
          
 
The dolphin door knocker rose and fell with a
clang that echoed much too loudly through the foggy street. As if some one had
been waiting just inside for that summons, the door opened and Crofts slid
through, with Fitz on his heels. They were in a narrow hallway, and a plump
maidservant ushered them on into a small, book-lined room, where a fire glowed
on the hearth and an elderly man pushed up spectacles as he arose to greet them.

 
          
 
Crofts made his best bow. "Lieutenant
Crofts, sir,
of "

 
          
 
"Of His Majesty's ship
Neptune
," supplied their host calmly.
"And it is very glad we are to have you with us, sir. This is your young
friend, I
presume "

           
 
"Yes," Crofts hastened to introduce
Fitz, "Mr. Lyon, sir, also of the
Neptune
."

 
          
 
"Come to the fire, gentlemen, come to the
fire. Susan shall bring us some fresh tea. This is no proper day to be out—it
might well bring on
a rheum
. Ah, Susan, that is right,
on the little table by the fire." The maid had re-appeared with a loaded
tray which Fitz, after the past weeks of slim diet, found entrancing.
"That will be all, my dear, until the chaise comes. You will let us know
of that at once."

 
          
 
With a sidelong glance at the visitors, she
ducked a curtsy and withdrew, while their host set to pouring brimming cups,
adding brandy to the pot from a decanter on the table. Fitz selected a scone,
having just enough caution and manners not to snatch it from the plate, and
drank his tea.

 
          
 
"Yes, a very bad day.
Unpleasant
for traveling.
I trust that you will not be fog-stayed on the moor. If
you are, gentlemen, keep to the road—the moor itself can be dangerous for the
unwary. Your post-boy is reliable and you may trust to his choice of
inns."

 
          
 
Fitz bit into a second scone.

 
          
 
"I have also taken the liberty to order
put up for you some provisions to last"—he laughed a tinkling old man's
laugh—"for your voyage. I hope that it shall be a most fortunate one.
Young men on leave always desire to see the sights of
London
, and that pleasure should not be denied
them. After some years on a foreign station it must seem very good to be home
again."

 
          
 
"Indeed it is, sir. And it is most
obliging of you to take such trouble
for "

 
          
 
"For the only nephew of
my old friend Canon Durham?
Not at all, sir, not at
all, I assure you.
Why, in the old days when we were up at
Oxford
together, your uncle was most kind to me,
most kind. If I can repay that debt in part by a few insignificant services to
his nephew, I am more than pleased. And what did you think of the
West Indies
, sir? Strange places those islands must
be—very strange. And you, Mr. Lyon, do have some of the small cakes, sir.
Martha makes them for tea daily, although she knows that I have long since lost
my tooth for sweets. She will be pleased to have them appreciated."

 
          
 
Fitz joyfully made inroads on the cake plate
and wondered at the whole scene. How in the wide world had Crofts managed to
become a lieutenant of the
Neptune
,
just back from the
West
Indies
, with a
useful uncle such as Canon Durham up his sleeve? It was little less than magic.
He munched one of Martha's masterpieces and immediately was struck with the
idea that it was stranger yet that anyone, sweet tooth or not, could resist
them.

 
          
 
Someone scratched at the door, and at the old
gentleman's call Susan looked in upon them.

 
          
 
"Th' chaise be 'ere, sir."

 
          
 
"Ah, yes, to be sure, the chaise. I am
sorry that you must leave so soon, my boy. Please do not forget to remember me
to your uncle, and try to persuade him to visit me the next time he goes to
Bath
. I am a sad invalid nowadays, a sad
invalid, hardly going beyond my own doorstep. But I am always eager to see old
friends."

 
          
 
"I shall certainly tell him, sir. And
thank you for all your kindnesses/'

 
          
 
"Not at
all—not at
all,"
the host waved one long-fingered white hand deprecatingly.
"A pleasant journey to the both of you, and may your leave prove a happy
holiday!"

 
          
 
Before Fitz could more than mumble his thanks
they were out of the door, down the steps, and into a plain traveling chaise.
The post-boy was in his saddle, and they were off along the streets of
Plymouth
for the
Exeter
road.

 
          
 
"Who is Canon Durham?" Fitz could retain
his bursting curiosity no longer.

 
          
 
Crofts chuckled.
"Doubtless
only a fanciful creation of a very keen mind.
D'you note how neatly he
supplied us with the proper background—a ship, an immediate past, and a handy
relative in this country? He's a clever, clever man—our friend behind the
dolphin. And there is no use in asking who he is, because I haven't the
slightest idea. I was given certain contacts to make in the eventuality I might
find myself in just such difficulties as we were, and he was the result of my
making them. Now—what's this?"

 
          
 
The chaise had slowed at the old gate of the
town, and a lantern was flashing under its hood. A sentry said something about
the necessity of checking upon all who passed—these rebels were a mighty
slippery lot.

 
          
 
"What the deuce d'you mean, you
chicken-brained, barnyard offscouring!" Crofts' voice rose with just the
proper note of gathering anger.
"Daring to stop two
officers of His Majesty's forces with this twaddle about escaping rebels!
If you don't move, on the jump, sirrah, I'll see that the sergeant's cane is
laid smartly over those crooked shoulders of yours! Get down at
once "

 
          
 
The sentry blinked and jumped, the postilion
cracked his whip and they went rocketing off at a good pace. Fitz rubbed his
sweating hands on the edge of his cloak.

 
          
 
"That was close."

 
          
 
"I think," Crofts returned, "he
was only taking general precautions. We haven't heard the alarm bell, and they
have not yet cried an escape through the streets. It may be morning before they
discover we are gone. Then they will expect to find us along the coast, not
inland. We have twenty-four hours, perhaps more, before we need to watch over
our shoulders too often. But I don't like the weather. . . ."

 
          
 
He frowned out over the countryside where the
mist was thickening into a heavy fog. Although it was still afternoon, the
light was fading to that of twilight.

 
          
 
"To cross the moor in this stuff is
chancy. We have undoubtedly been furnished with a man who knows the road,
but"—Crofts' scowl at the closing curtain of gray grew blacker—"we
may not be able to make the run to
Exeter
without a stop. I had hoped to do it with
pauses only for fresh horses."

 
          
 
The Captain's uneasiness was justified. The
fog closed in until at last their position said frankly that he would not
chance it further into the heart of the moor country under such conditions,
proposing that they stop at The Green Man, a posting inn with a good reputation
some two miles farther on. And with that decision they had to be content.

 
          
 
When they drew up before it, The Green Man
turned out to be a small house, but one neatly kept, from what they could judge
by the yard. However, other travelers had been benighted too, and there were
two other chaises, as well as a coach with arms blazoned on its door, almost
choking the yard. When the landlord greeted them it was with a harassed air.

 
          
 
"Room, sir?
Well, I shall do my best. We are overcrowded
tonight,
the ill weather has stayed so many. If you wish to dine, there is only the Bow,
sir "

 
          
 
"Let us shelter in the Bow then,"
Crofts answered good-naturedly.

 
          
 
The Bow was a small room, but it had a fire,
and they both shed damp cloaks and hats with gratitude to go and stand, holding
their chilled hands to its blaze.

 
          
 
"Faith, I'll never be warm again,"
Fitz announced with a shiver.