Jacob's ladder

The schooner sailing to England was called The Seagull. Her length was one hundred and twenty five English feet, her beam forty. She had two masts: the foremast and the mainmast, and was reasonably fast. In a few days, they made the turn around Finisterre and were sailing the Cantabrian Sea on their way to the South of England.

The weather had turned cooler, with a little rain, but not stormy, although the sea was wavy and the ship wobbling. Lady Borland was seaworthy, but Luis suffered his sailing baptism and felt sick when the deck swayed under his feet. He scarcely ate; as soon as he would swallow something, he had to run at the railing, among the laughter of the crew. On the fourth day the weather improved, the waves subsided and Luis started to get used to his new situation. His stomach started withholding food, his face lost its greenish tinge, and he began to enjoy the voyage.

The next morning, coming on deck after his first good sleep, he found Lady Borland sitting near the stern, basking in the sun and taking advantage of the fine weather. She acknowledged his presence with a smile.

“What news?” asked Luis, taking an empty deck chair and letting his gaze wander at the sailors who were cleaning the deck or tending the sails, watched by the boatswain.

“News? How can we get news aboard a ship? Who could have brought them? A seagull?”

“I wouldn’t wonder, since that’s the name of the ship,” joked Luis. “But I was speaking of the news we do get here. Where are we? When can we expect arriving at England? What will the weather be tomorrow? Fine? Stormy?”

“You are very talkative today, but that is not what you really want to know. Am I mistaken?”

Luis wrinkled his brow.

“No, milady. I can’t forget that Charles has been a prisoner of his enemies for one month. You are right, that’s the news I’d like to get, but you can’t give it to me, as I knew perfectly well when I asked.”

Lady Borland rested her hand on his arm.

“I’m sorry to have reminded you. Your joy is gone. I had never seen you in as good cheer.”

“Don’t worry, my joy was false. I have too many things in my mind. Besides Charles, there is something else.”

“I you trust me, I’ll do anything in my hands to help.”

“You’ve done so much, that I’ll never be able to repay you. I don’t believe that you can help me in this particular matter, but I feel the need to share my thoughts with someone, if you don’t mind.”

“Go on, I’m listening.”

It took Luis some time to start speaking, as though he didn’t know where to start.

“It all comes from just before we left Salamanca. I overheard Charles speaking to another professor in the university. They thought they were alone and some of the things they said were not for my ears. Don José mentioned that Charles has a secret which can be very dangerous for me. I have tried to coax him in vain; he just says I’m too young to know. This is always in my mind.”

For some time there was full silence. Surprised, Luis looked at Lady Borland and found her watching him with a peculiar expression. Suddenly he understood and exclaimed:

“You know!”

“Shut up!”

“You must tell me!”

“It’s not my secret. If Charles won’t tell you, I must not.”

“Please, milady! Perhaps I won’t ever see Charles again. What if he has been killed? I can’t keep on living without knowing this!”

“If we ever know he is dead, I’ll tell you. Otherwise, I cannot speak.”

Luis was about to insist, when the voice of the lookout at the top of the mast interrupted him.

“Ship ahoy to the South-South-West!”

Captain McEwen came running with a spyglass, with which he pried in the indicated direction.

“It’s a sloop” he said, after some time. “She’s about ten miles, very fast, and comes directly to us.”

Lady Borland and Luis came to see. The ship was far away, but the masts were visible, with all the sails unfurled.

“Is she pursuing us?” asked the lady.

“Too soon to know,” answered the captain. “Its bearing may be casual.”

“Will she overtake us?”

“She’s faster than The Seagull. I’d rate her speed as twelve knots. But I can’t see any flag.”

“We don’t have one either. Hoist ours, captain McEwen. Perhaps they’ll do the same.”

“I’ll wait until they are nearer. At that speed, we’ll be overtaken in five hours.”

Three hours later the sloop was nearer, still sailing directly toward The Seagull. The captain ordered the British colors to be hoisted. The Union Jack, with the cross of St. George on a white background, waved with the wind at the top of the mainmast. In answer, the other ship also hoisted its banner. McEwen watched through his spyglass and turned at his two passengers.

“Black flag,” he said.

“Are they buccaneers?” asked Luis, thrilled.

“Buccaneers disappeared over one century ago,” replied the captain, turning his spyglass again at the nearing ship. When he put it down, he said: “There’s a man at the bowsprit, staring at us. He’s clad in black from head to feet.”

“Blatsov,” whispered Lady Borland.

“Then that’s his flag,” added Luis between his teeth, “unless it belongs to Nikomakos.”

McEwen looked at them without understanding, but said nothing.

“But where has he got the ship? This man is the devil!”

“This time we are lost!”

“Not yet! Captain, can’t we go faster?”

“We can try. I’ll order all the sails unfurled, although with such fresh wind we’ll be in danger of their getting torn.”

“Do it. We have no alternative.”

The captain shouted.

“All the canvas aloft!”

The boatswain came running, stopped before him and exclaimed:

“All, captain? Are you sure?”

“Ay, Mr. Smith: the jibs, the stays, the royal and the skysails. This is life or death.”

Smith followed the captain’s finger to the sloop, whose ram was pointing directly to The Seagull. He immediately understood the situation and ran back, shouting:

“All the canvas aloft!”

The sailors made an extra effort and soon all the sails which, up to that point, had been furled, were blowing before the wind. The schooner seemed to jump suddenly ahead. The speed with which the sloop was coming near decreased visibly.

“Not enough!” exclaimed the captain. “They are still gaining on us.”

“How long till they overtake us?” asked Lady Borland.

“If the sails hold, about four hours.”

“Can we reach land in that time?”

“Only the French coast, but remember that we are at war with France.”

“War?” asked Luis, surprised. “Since when?”

“Since March 1st, when Bonaparte left Elba, landed in France and usurped the throne, breaking the treatise of Fontainebleau.”

“Blatsov is not after me,” replied the lady. “We could land Luis and let him overtake us.”

“We would be in great danger,” protested McEwen. “We could be the prey of a French warship. The Seagull is not well armed.”

“Also, milady,” interjected Luis, “What would I do, alone in France? Who would help me? Sooner or later, I’d fall in Bonaparte’s hands, and he would get what you know.”

“Then let’s go on to England,” decided Lady Borland, “and God help us.”

During several hours, the two ships continued their race, while the distance between them decreased very slowly. It was now possible to see the man in black, always rigid at the bow, and the work of the sloop’s crew, more in number than the schooner’s. If they were overtaken, they would be helpless.

“That ship carries canon,” said the captain, watching through his spyglass at the stern, near the steer wheel. “They can sink or ram us.”

“They won’t do that,” replied Lady Borland. “Blatsov doesn’t want Luis dead, he wants to seize him. They’ll try to board us.”

“It won’t be long now.”

All through the race, the part of the sea they had been crossing had been empty. Everybody in both ships had been looking at the other. Therefore, when a report was heard and a jet of water spurted near the sloop, nobody knew where it came from. At first they thought it had been a warning shot by the other ship. Perhaps, after all, they intended to sink them. The first to find the source was the boatswain Smith, who took his cap off and threw it up in the air, yelling:

“Ship ahoy!”

A British frigate, attracted by the dramatic scene, had come near without anybody noticing and was intercepting the sloop. The flags waving at the top masts of both ships made clear who needed their help. The first shot allowed the frigate gunners to adjust their marksmanship. Two minutes later, before the sloop could react, the twenty-two canon in that side of the frigate belched iron against Blatsov’s ship, which received the broadside attack in its rigging. The masts broke and fell to the sea, but remained joined to the ship by sail shreds, stopping her suddenly. A few remaining sails, inflated by the wind, made the sloop move in a narrow circle around the place where she had been hit.

The Seagull started increasing her distance from their pursuers. The captain and his two passengers watched the slope with their naked eye or through the spyglass, but her deck had disappeared under the smoke and they couldn’t see anything. When their sight finally cleared, Blatsov was nowhere to be seen.

“Do you think he is dead?” asked Luis hopefully.

“Perhaps,” answered McEwen. “The crew of the sloop must have suffered casualties, but we can’t be sure.”

After dismasting the sloop, the frigate officers did not seem interested on finishing the work and sinking her and followed a bearing parallel to the schooner. When both ships where near, one of the sailors signed that the captain of the man-of-war wanted to speak to his colleague and would receive him on board. McEwen ordered the sails furled and the boat launched, and invited Lady Borland and Luis to go with him. When they climbed on the deck of the frigate, captain Lanchester came to greet them. He showed his surprise on seeing the lady and asked them to explain the strange behavior of the sloop. He wanted to know whether they could give him any information about the ship’s country. Lady Borland simply told what had happened, from the time the ship had been sighted, without mentioning Blatsov or his intentions about Luis, and giving to understand that the sloop probably wanted the goods in the hold of the schooner. The lady thanked captain Lanchester for their help and asked where they were going.

“We are on our way to Ostend,” he replied. “We suspect that Bonaparte will try to occupy the Low Countries, so we are moving troops and ships to stop him.”

“We are bound to England,” said McEwen.

“I don’t recommend you to go there alone, milady,” said Lanchester. “These waters are infested with French ships and you risk another bad meeting, when I won’t be there to protect you.”

“What would you advise?” asked Lady Borland.

“Follow us to Ostend. From that harbor, another man-of-war can escort you to London; there is a continuous transfer of ships between the two towns. You’ll get there a little later, but safe and sound.”

“I like the idea,” replied the lady. “We accept your offer, captain Lanchester. We’ll follow you to Ostend.”

While they were being rowed back to the schooner, Lady Borland added:

“This proposal has given me an idea: why don’t we change our plans and go to Brussels? It’s the high season, everybody will be there. If Blatsov has survived and tries to follow, he won’t imagine finding you in the Low Countries.”

After his experience with the man in black, Luis did not consider himself safe anywhere, not even in England; therefore, one place or another were the same to him. McEwen, however, objected.

“If Bonaparte conquers the Low Countries, you will be in danger in Brussels, milady.”

Lady Borland winked at Luis.

“We know that Bonaparte cannot win. Don’t worry, captain.”

Once again aboard The Seagull, the voyage continued without further complications, and on April 15th they cast anchor in Ostend. After saying good-bye to captain McEwen, Lady Borland and Luis traveled to Brussels, where they arrived on the evening of the next day.