The Skiff "Lightning."
D'Artagnan had judged correctly; Mordaunt felt that he had no time to lose, and he lost none. He knew the rapidity of decision and action that characterized his enemies and resolved to act with reference to that. This time the musketeers had an adversary who was worthy of them.
After closing the door carefully behind him Mordaunt glided into the subterranean passage, sheathing on the way his now useless sword, and thus reached the neighboring house, where he paused to examine himself and to take breath.
"Good!" he said, "nothing, almost nothing -- scratches, nothing more; two in the arm and one in the breast. The wounds that I make are better than that -- witness the executioner of Bethune, my uncle and King Charles. Now, not a second to lose, for a second lost will perhaps save them.
They must die -- die all together -- killed at one stroke by the thunder of men in default of God's. They must disappear, broken, scattered, annihilated. I will run, then, till my legs no longer serve, till my heart bursts in my bosom but I will arrive before they do."
Mordaunt proceeded at a rapid pace to the nearest cavalry barracks, about a quarter of a league distant. He made that quarter of a league in four or five minutes. Arrived at the barracks he made himself known, took the best horse in the stables, mounted and gained the high road. A quarter of an hour later he was at Greenwich.
"There is the port," he murmured. "That dark point yonder is the Isle of Dogs. Good! I am half an hour in advance of them, an hour, perhaps. Fool that I was! I have almost killed myself by my needless haste. Now," he added, rising in the stirrups and looking about him, "which, I wonder, is the Lightning?"
At this moment, as if in reply to his words, a man lying on a coil of cables rose and advanced a few steps toward him.
Mordaunt drew a handkerchief from his pocket, and tying a knot at each corner -- the signal agreed upon -- waved it in the air and the man came up to him. He was wrapped in a large rough cape, which concealed his form and partly his face.
"Do you wish to go on the water, sir?" said the sailor.
"Yes, just so. Along the Isle of Dogs."
"And perhaps you have a preference for one boat more than another. You would like one that sails as rapidly as ---- "
"Lightning," interrupted Mordaunt.
"Then mine is the boat you want, sir. I'm your man."
"I begin to think so, particularly if you have not forgotten a certain signal."
"Here it is, sir," and the sailor took from his coat a handkerchief, tied at each corner.
"Good, quite right!" cried Mordaunt, springing off his horse. "There's not a moment to lose; now take my horse to the nearest inn and conduct me to your vessel."
"But," asked the sailor, "where are your companions? I thought there were four of you."
"Listen to me, sir. I'm not the man you take me for; you are in Captain Rogers's post, are you not? under orders from General Cromwell. Mine, also, are from him!"
"Indeed, sir, I recognize you; you are Captain Mordaunt."
Mordaunt was startled.
"Oh, fear nothing," said the skipper, showing his face. "I am a friend."
"Captain Groslow!" cried Mordaunt.
"Himself. The general remembered that I had formerly been a naval officer and he gave me the command of this expedition.
Is there anything new in the wind?"
"Nothing."
"I thought, perhaps, that the king's death ---- "
"Has only hastened their flight; in ten minutes they will perhaps be here."
"What have you come for, then?"
"To embark with you."
"Ah! ah! the general doubted my fidelity?"
"No, but I wish to have a share in my revenge. Haven't you some one who will relieve me of my horse?"
Groslow whistled and a sailor appeared.
"Patrick," said Groslow, "take this horse to the stables of the nearest inn. If any one asks you whose it is you can say that it belongs to an Irish gentleman."
The sailor departed without reply.
"Now," said Mordaunt, "are you not afraid that they will recognize you?"
"There is no danger, dressed as I am in this pilot coat, on a night as dark as this. Besides even you didn't recognize me; they will be much less likely to."
"That is true," said Mordaunt, "and they will be far from thinking of you. Everything is ready, is it not?"
"Yes."
"The cargo on board?"
"Yes."
"Five full casks?"
"And fifty empty ones."
"Good."
"We are carrying port wine to Anvers."
"Excellent. Now take me aboard and return to your post, for they will soon be here."
"I am ready."
"It is important that none of your crew should see me."
"I have but one man on board, and I am as sure of him as I am of myself. Besides, he doesn't know you; like his mates he is ready to obey our orders knowing nothing of our plan."
"Very well; let us go."
They then went down to the Thames. A boat was fastened to the shore by a chain fixed to a stake. Groslow jumped in, followed by Mordaunt, and in five minutes they were quite away from that world of houses which then crowded the outskirts of London; and Mordaunt could discern the little vessel riding at anchor near the Isle of Dogs. When they reached the side of this felucca, Mordaunt, dexterous in his eagerness for vengeance, seized a rope and climbed up the side of the vessel with a coolness and agility very rare among landsmen. He went with Groslow to the captain's berth, a sort of temporary cabin of planks, for the chief apartment had been given up by Captain Rogers to the passengers, who were to be accommodated at the other end of the boat.
"They will have nothing to do, then at this end?" said Mordaunt.
"Nothing at all."
"That's a capital arrangement. Return to Greenwich and bring them here. I shall hide myself in your cabin. You have a longboat?"
"That in which we came."
"It appeared light and well constructed."
"Quite a canoe."
"Fasten it to the poop with a rope; put the oars into it, so that it may follow in the track and there will be nothing to do except to cut the cord. Put a good supply of rum and biscuit in it for the seamen; should the night happen to be stormy they will not be sorry to find something to console themselves with."
