The Grand Babylon Hotel Arnold Bennett (ebook reader web TXT) 📖

idea of frightening the steersman, and then the man began to talk rapidly in a mixture of French and Flemish. He said that he had received Jules’ strict orders not to interfere in any way, no matter what might happen on the deck of the yacht. He was the captain of the yacht, and he had to make for a certain English port, the name of which he could not divulge: he was to keep the vessel at full steam ahead under any and all circumstances. He seemed to be a very big, a very strong, and a very determined man, and the Prince was at a loss what course of action to pursue. He asked several more questions, but the only effect of them was to render the man taciturn and ill-humoured.

In vain Prince Aribert explained that Miss Nella Racksole, daughter of millionaire Racksole, had been abducted by Mr. Tom Jackson; in vain he flourished the revolver threateningly; the surly but courageous captain said merely that that had nothing to do with him; he had instructions, and he should carry them out. He sarcastically begged to remind his interlocutor that he was the captain of the yacht.

“It won’t do to shoot him, I suppose,” said the Prince to Nella. “I might bore a hole into his leg, or something of that kind.”

“It’s rather risky, and rather hard on the poor captain, with his extraordinary sense of duty,” said Nella. “And, besides, the whole crew might turn on us. No, we must think of something else.”

“I wonder where the crew is,” said the Prince.

Just then Mr. Jackson, prone and bound on the deck, showed signs of recovering from his swoon. His eyes opened, and he gazed vacantly around. At length he caught sight of the Prince, who approached him with the revolver well in view.

“It’s you, is it?” he murmured faintly. “What are you doing on board? Who’s tied me up like this?”

“See here!” replied the Prince, “I don’t want to have any arguments, but this yacht must return to Ostend at once, where you will be given up to the authorities.”

“Really!” snarled Mr. Tom Jackson. “Shall I!” Then he called out in French to the man at the wheel, “Hi André! let these two be put off in the dinghy.”

It was a peculiar situation. Certain of nothing but the possession of Nella’s revolver, the Prince scarcely knew whether to carry the argument further, and with stronger measures, or to accept the situation with as much dignity as the circumstances would permit.

“Let us take the dinghy,” said Nella; “we can row ashore in an hour.”

He felt that she was right. To leave the yacht in such a manner seemed somewhat ignominious, and it certainly involved the escape of that profound villain, Mr. Thomas Jackson. But what else could be done? The Prince and Nella constituted one party on the vessel; they knew their own strength, but they did not know the strength of their opponents. They held the hostile ringleader bound and captive, but this man had proved himself capable of giving orders, and even to gag him would not help them if the captain of the yacht persisted in his obstinate course. Moreover, there was a distinct objection to promiscuous shooting. The Prince felt that there was no knowing how promiscuous shooting might end.

“We will take the dinghy,” said the Prince quickly, to the captain.

A bell rang below, and a sailor and the Negro boy appeared on deck. The pulsations of the screw grew less rapid. The yacht stopped. The dinghy was lowered. As the Prince and Nella prepared to descend into the little cock-boat Mr. Tom Jackson addressed Nella, all bound as he lay.

“Goodbye,” he said, “I shall see you again, never fear.”

In another moment they were in the dinghy, and the dinghy was adrift. The yacht’s screw churned the water, and the beautiful vessel slipped away from them. As it receded a figure appeared at the stem. It was Mr. Thomas Jackson.

He had been released by his minions. He held a white handkerchief to his ear, and offered a calm, enigmatic smile to the two forlorn but victorious occupants of the dinghy. Jules had been defeated for once in his life; or perhaps it would be more just to say that he had been outmanoeuvred. Men like Jules are incapable of being defeated. It was characteristic of his luck that now, in the very hour when he had been caught red-handed in a serious crime against society, he should be effecting a leisurely escape⁠—an escape which left no clue behind.

The sea was utterly calm and blue in the morning sun. The dinghy rocked itself lazily in the swell of the yacht’s departure. As the mist cleared away the outline of the shore became more distinct, and it appeared as if Ostend was distant scarcely a cable’s length. The white dome of the great Kursaal glittered in the pale turquoise sky, and the smoke of steamers in the harbour could be plainly distinguished. On the offing was a crowd of brown-sailed fishing luggers returning with the night’s catch. The many-hued bathing-vans could be counted on the distant beach. Everything seemed perfectly normal. It was difficult for either Nella or her companion to realize that anything extraordinary had happened within the last hour. Yet there was the yacht, not a mile off, to prove to them that something very extraordinary had, in fact, happened. The yacht was no vision, nor was that sinister watching figure at its stern a vision, either.

“I suppose Jules was too surprised and too feeble to inquire how I came to be on board his yacht,” said the Prince, taking the oars.

“Oh! How did you?” asked Nella, her face lighting up. “Really, I had almost forgotten that part of the affair.”

“I must begin at the beginning and it will take some time,” answered the Prince. “Had we not better postpone the recital till we get ashore?”

“I will row and you shall talk,” said Nella. “I want to know now.”

He smiled happily