# The Three Cutters/Chapter VII

We must now return to the other parties who have assisted in the acts of this little drama. Lord B—, after paddling and paddling, the men relieving each other, in order to make head against the wind, which was off shore, arrived about midnight at a small town in West Bay, from whence he took a chaise on to Portsmouth, taking it for granted that his yacht would arrive as soon as, if not before himself, little imagining that it was in possession of the smugglers. There he remained three or four days, when, becoming impatient, he applied to one of his friends who had a yacht at Cowes, and sailed with him to look after his own.
We left the Happy-go-lucky chased by the revenue-cutter. At first the smuggler had the advantage before the wind; but, by degrees, the wind went round with the sun, and brought the revenue-cutter leeward: it was then a chase on a wind, and the revenue-cutter came fast up with her.
Morrison, perceiving that he had no chance of escape, let run the ankers of brandy that he might not be condemned; but still he was in an awkward situation, as he had more men on board than allowed by Act of Parliament. He therefore stood on, notwithstanding the shot of the cutter went over and over him hoping, that a fog or night might enable him to escape; but he had no such good fortune; one of the shot carried away the head of his mast, and the Happy-go-lucky’s luck was all over. He was boarded and taken possession of; he asserted that the extra men were only passengers; but, in the first place, they were dressed in seamen’s clothes; and, in the second, as soon as the boat was aboard of her, Appleboy had gone down to his gin-toddy, and was not to be disturbed. The gentlemen smugglers therefore passed an uncomfortable night; and the cutter going Portland by daylight, before Appleboy was out of bed, they were taken on shore to the magistrate. Hautaine explained the whole affair, and they were immediately released and treated with respect; but they were not permitted to depart until they were bound over to appear against the smugglers, and prove the brandy having been on board. They then set off for Portsmouth in the seamen’s clothes, having had quite enough of yachting for that season, Mr. Ossulton declaring that he only wanted to get his luggage, and then he would take care how he put himself again in the way of the shot of a revenue cruiser, or of sleeping a night on her decks.
In the mean time Morrison and his men were locked up in the gaol, the old man, as the key was turned on him, exclaiming, as he raised his foot in vexation, “That cursed blue pigeon!”
We will now return to the yacht.
About an hour after Pickersgill had come on board, Corbett had made all his arrangements and followed him. It was not advisable to remain at Torquay any longer, through fear of discovery; he therefore weighed anchor before dinner, and made sail.
“What do you intend to do now, my lord?” said Mrs. Lascelles.
“I intend to run down to Cowes, anchor the yacht in the night, and an hour before daylight have you in my boat with all my men. I will take care that you are in perfect safety, depend upon it, even if I run a risk. I should, indeed, be miserable, if, through my wild freaks, any accident should happen to Mrs. Lascelles or Miss Ossulton.”
“I am very anxious about my father,” observed Cecilia. “I trust that you will keep your promise.”
“I always have hitherto, Miss Ossulton; have I not?”
“Ours is but a short and strange acquaintance.”
“I grant it; but it will serve for you to talk about long after. I shall disappear as suddenly as I have come—you will neither of you, in all probability, ever see me again.”
The dinner was announced, and they sat down to table as before; but the elderly spinster refused to make her appearance, and Mr. Lascelles and Cecilia, who thought she had been frightened enough, did not attempt to force her. Pickersgill immediately yielded to these remonstrances, and from that time she remained undisturbed in the ladies’ cabin, meditating over the indignity of having sat down to table, having drank wine, and been obliged to walk on shore, taking the arm of a smuggler, and appear in such a humiliating situation.
The wind was light, and they made but little progress, and were not abreast of Portland till the second day, when another yacht appeared in sight, and the two vessels slowly neared, until in the afternoon they were within four miles of each other. It then fell a dead calm: signals were thrown out by the other yacht, but could not be distinguished, and, for the last time, they sat down to dinner. Three days’ companionship on board of a vessel, cooped up together, and having no one else to converse with, will produce intimacy; and Pickersgill was a young man of so much originality and information, that he was listened to with pleasure. He never attempted to advance beyond the line of strict decorum and politeness; and his companion was equally unpresuming. Situated as they were, and feeling what must have been the case had they fallen into other hands, both Cecilia and Mrs. Lascelles felt some degree of gratitude towards him; and although anxious to be relieved from so strange a position, they had gradually acquired a perfect confidence in him; and this had produced a degree of familiarity on their parts, although never ventured upon by the smuggler. As Corbett was at the table, one of the men came down and made a sign. Corbett, shortly after quitted the table and went on deck. “I wish, my lord, you would come up a moment, and see if you can make this flag out,” said Corbett, giving a significant nod to Pickersgill. “Excuse me, ladies, one moment,” said Pickersgill, who went on deck.
“It is the boat of the yacht coming on board,” said Corbett; “and Lord B— is in the stern-sheets with the gentleman who was with him.”
“And how many men in the boat?—let me see—only four. Well, let his lordship and his friend come: when they are on the deck, have the men ready in case of accident; but if you can manage to tell the boat’s crew that they are to go on board again, and get rid of them that way, so much the better. Arrange this with Adams, and then come down again—his lordship must see us all at dinner.”
Pickersgill then descended, and Corbett had hardly time to give his directions and to resume his seat, before his lordship and Mr. Stewart pulled up alongside and jumped on deck. There was no one to receive them but the seamen, and those whom they did not know. They looked round in amazement; at last his lordship said to Adams, who stood forward—“What men are you?”
“Belong to the yacht, ye’r honour.”
Lord B— heard laughing in the cabin; he would not wait to interrogate the men; he walked aft, followed by Mr. Stewart, looked down the skylight, and perceived his daughter and Mrs. Lascelles, with, as he supposed, Hautaine and Ossulton.
Pickersgill had heard the boat rub the side, and the sound of the feet on deck, and he talked the more loudly, that the ladies might be caught by Lord B— as they were. He heard their feet at the skylight, and knew that they could hear what passed; and at that moment he proposed to the ladies that as this was their last meeting at table they should all take a glass of champagne to drink to “their happy meeting with Lord B—.” This was a toast which they did not refuse. Maddox poured out the wine, and they were all bowing to each other, when his lordship, who had come down the ladder, walked into the cabin, followed by Mr. Stewart. Cecilia perceived her father; the champagne-glass dropped from her hand—she flew into his arms, and burst into tears.
“Who would not be a father, Mrs. Lascelles?” said Pickersgill, quietly seating himself, after having first risen to receive Lord B—.
“And pray, whom may I have the honour of finding established here?” said Lord B—, in an angry tone, speaking over his daughter’s head, who still lay in his arms. “By heavens, yes!—Stewart, it is the smuggling captain dressed out.”
“Even so, my lord,” replied Pickersgill. “You abandoned your yacht to capture me; you left these ladies in a vessel crippled for want of men; they might have been lost. I have returned good for evil by coming on board with my own people, and taking charge of them. This night I expected to have anchored your vessel in Cowes, and have left them in safety.”
“By the—” cried Stewart.
“Stop, sir, if you please!” cried Pickersgill; “recollect you have once already attacked one who never offended. Oblige me by refraining from intemperate language; for I tell you I will not put up with it. Recollect, sir, that I have refrained from that, and also from taking advantage of you when you were in my power. Recollect, sir, also, that the yacht is still in possession of the smugglers, and that you are in no condition to insult with impunity. My lord, allow me to observe, that we men are too hot of temperament to argue or listen coolly. With your permission, your friend, and my friend, and I, will repair on deck, leaving you to hear from your daughter and that lady all that has passed. After that, my lord, I shall be most happy to hear anything which your lordship may please to say.”
“Upon my word—” commenced Mr. Stewart.
“Mr. Stewart,” interrupted Cecilia Ossulton, “I request your silence; nay, more, if ever we are again to sail in the same vessel together, I insist upon it.”
“Your lordship will oblige me by enforcing Miss Ossulton’s request,” said Mrs. Lascelles.
Mr. Stewart was dumbfounded—no wonder—to find the ladies siding with the smuggler.
“I am obliged to you, ladies, for your interference,” said Pickersgill; “for, although I have the means of enforcing conditions, I should be sorry to avail myself of them. I wait for his lordship’s reply.”
Lord B— was very much surprised. He wished for an explanation; he bowed with hauteur. Everybody appeared to be in a false position; even he, Lord B—, somehow or another had bowed to a smuggler.
Pickersgill and Stewart went on deck, walking up and down, crossing each other without speaking, but reminding you of two dogs who are both anxious to fight, but have been restrained by the voice of their masters. Corbett followed, and talked in a low tone to Pickersgill; Stewart went over to leeward to see if the boat was still alongside, but it had long before returned to the yacht. Miss Ossulton had heard her brother’s voice, but did not come out of the after-cabin; she wished to be magnificent, and at the same time she was not sure whether all was right, Phoebe having informed her that there was nobody with her brother and Mr. Stewart, and that the smugglers still had the command of the vessel. After a while, Pickersgill and Corbett went down forward, and returned dressed in the smugglers’ clothes, when they resumed their walk on deck.
In the mean time it was dark; the cutter flew along the coast, and the Needles’ lights were on the larboard bow. The conversation between Cecilia, Mrs. Lascelles, and her father, was long. When all had been detailed, and the conduct of Pickersgill duly represented, Lord B— acknowledged that, by attacking the smuggler, he had laid himself open to retaliation; that Pickersgill had shown a great deal of forbearance in every instance; and after all, had he not gone on board the yacht, she might have been lost, with only three seamen on board. He was amused with the smuggling and the fright of his sister, still more with the gentlemen being sent to Cherbourg, and much consoled that he was not the only one to be laughed at. He was also much pleased with Pickersgill’s intention of leaving the yacht safe in Cowes harbour, his respect for the property on board, and his conduct to the ladies. On the whole, he felt grateful to Pickersgill, and where there is gratitude there is always good will.
“But who can he be?” said Mrs. Lascelles; “his name he acknowledges not to be Pickersgill, and he told me confidentially that he was of good family.”
“Confidentially, my dear Mrs. Lascelles!” said Lord B—.
“Oh, yes! We are both his confidants. Are we not, Cecilia?”
“Upon my honour, Mrs. Lascelles, this smuggler appears to have made an impression which many have attempted in vain.”
Mrs. Lascelles did not reply to the remark, but said, “Now, my lord, you must decide—and I trust you will, to oblige us; treat him as he has treated us, with the greatest respect and kindness.”
“Why should you suppose otherwise?” replied Lord B—; “it is not only my wish but my interest so to do. He may take us over to France to-night, or anywhere else. Has he not possession of the vessel?”
“Yes,” replied Cecilia; “but we flatter ourselves that we have the command. Shall we call him down, papa?”
“Ring for Maddox. Maddox, tell Mr. Pickersgill, who is on deck, that I wish to speak with him, and shall be obliged by his stepping down into the cabin.”
“Who, my lord? What? Him?”
“Yes; him,” replied Cecilia, laughing.
“Must I call him my lord, now, miss?”
“You may do as you please, Maddox; but recollect he is still in possession of the vessel,” replied Cecilia.
“Then, with your lordship’s permission, I will; it’s the safest way.”
The smuggler entered the cabin, the ladies started as he appeared in his rough costume. With his throat open, and his loose black handkerchief, he was the beau idéal of a handsome sailor.
“Your lordship wishes to communicate with me?”
“Mr. Pickersgill, I feel that you have had cause of enmity against me, and that you have behaved with forbearance. I thank you for your considerate treatment of the ladies; and I assure you, that I feel no resentment for what has passed.”
“My lord, I am quite satisfied with what you have said; and I only hope that, in future, you will not interfere with a poor smuggler, who may be striving, by a life of danger and privation, to procure subsistence for himself, and, perhaps, his family. I stated to these ladies my intention of anchoring the yacht this night at Cowes, and leaving her as soon as she was in safety. Your unexpected presence will only make this difference, which is, that I must previously obtain your lordship’s assurance that those with you will allow me and my men to quit her without molestation, after we have performed this service.”
“I pledge you my word, Mr. Pickersgill, and thank you into the bargain. I trust you will allow me to offer some remuneration.”
“Most certainly not, my lord.”
“At all events, Mr. Pickersgill, if, at any other time, I can be of service, you may command me.”
Pickersgill made no reply.
“Surely, Mr. Pickersgill,—”
“Pickersgill! How I hate that name!” said the smuggler, musing. “I beg your lordship’s pardon—If I may require your assistance for any of my unfortunate companions—”
“Not for yourself, Mr. Pickersgill?” said Mrs. Lascelles.
“Madam, I smuggle no more.”
“For the pleasure I feel in hearing that resolution, Mr. Pickersgill,” said Cecilia, “take my hand and thanks.”
“And mine,” said Mrs. Lascelles, half crying.
“And mine, too,” said Lord B—, rising up.
Pickersgill passed the back of his hand across his eyes, turned round, and left the cabin.
“I’m so happy!” said Mrs. Lascelles, bursting into tears.
“He’s a magnificent fellow,” observed Lord B—. “Come, let us all go on deck.”
“You have not seen my aunt, papa.”
“True; I’ll go in to her, and then follow you.”
The ladies went upon deck. Cecilia entered into conversation with Mr. Stewart, giving him a narrative of what had happened. Mrs. Lascelles sat abaft at the taffrail, with her pretty hand supporting her cheek, looking very much à la Juliette.
“Mrs. Lascelles,” said Pickersgill, “before we part, allow me to observe, that it is you who have induced me to give up my profession—”
“Why me, Mr. Pickersgill?”
“You said that you did not like it.”
Mrs. Lascelles felt the force of the compliment.
“You said just now that you hated the name of Pickersgill: why do you call yourself so?”
“It was my smuggling name, Mrs. Lascelles.”
“And now that you have left off smuggling, pray what may be the name we are to call you by?”
“I cannot resume it till I have not only left this vessel, but shaken hands with, and bid farewell to my companions; and by that time, Mrs. Lascelles, I shall be away from you.”
“But I’ve a great curiosity to know it; and a lady’s curiosity must be gratified. You must call upon me some day, and tell it me. Here is my address.”
Pickersgill received the card with a low bow: and Lord B— coming on deck, Mrs. Lascelles hastened to meet him.
The vessel was now passing the Bridge at the Needles, and the smuggler piloted her on. As soon as they were clear and well inside, the whole party went down into the cabin, Lord B— requesting Pickersgill and Corbett to join him in a parting glass. Mr. Stewart, who had received the account of what had passed from Cecilia, was very attentive to Pickersgill and took an opportunity of saying that he was sorry that he had said or done anything to annoy him. Every one recovered his spirits: and all was good humour and mirth, because Miss Ossulton adhered her resolution of not quitting the cabin till she could quit the yacht. At ten o’clock the yacht was anchored. Pickersgill took his leave of the honourable company and went in his boat with his men; and Lord B— was again in possession of his vessel, although he had not ship’s company. Maddox recovered his usual tone; and the cook flourished his knife, swearing that he should like to see the smuggler who would again order him to dress cutlets à l’ombre Chinoise.
The yacht had remained three days at Cowes, when Lord B— received a letter from Pickersgill, stating that the men of his vessel had been captured, and would be condemned, in consequence of their having the gentlemen on board, who were bound to appear against them, to prove that they had sunk the brandy. Lord B— paid all the recognisances, and the men were liberated for want of evidence.
It was about two years after this that Cecilia Ossulton, who was sitting at her work-table in deep mourning for her aunt, was presented with a letter by the butler. It was from her friend Mrs. Lascelles, informing her that she was married again to a Mr. Davenant, and intended to pay her, a short visit on her way to the Continent. Mr. and Mrs. Davenant arrived the next day; and when the latter introduced her husband, she said to Miss Ossulton, “Look, Cecilia, dear, and tell me if you have ever seen Davenant before.”
Cecilia looked earnestly: “I have, indeed,” cried she at last, extending her hand with warmth; “and happy am I to meet with him again.”
For in Mr. Davenant she recognised her old acquaintance the captain of the Happy-go-lucky, Jack Pickersgill the smuggler.
The End.