CHAPTER XVII
AYRTON'S OBSTINACY
AYRTON came. He crossed the deck with a confident
tread, and mounted the steps to the poop. His eyes were
gloomy, his teeth set, his fists clenched convulsively. His
appearance betrayed neither effrontery nor timidity. When
he found himself in the presence of Lord Glenarvan he
folded his arms and awaited the questions calmly and silently.
"Ayrton," said Glenarvan, "here we are then, you and
us, on this very Duncan that you wished to deliver into the
hands of the convicts of Ben Joyce."
The lips of the quartermaster trembled slightly and a
quick flush suffused his impassive features. Not the flush
of remorse, but of shame at failure. On this yacht which
he thought he was to command as master, he was a prisoner,
and his fate was about to be decided in a few seconds.
However, he made no reply. Glenarvan waited patiently. But Ayrton
persisted in keeping absolute silence.
"Speak, Ayrton, what have you to say?" resumed Glenarvan.
Ayrton hesitated, the wrinkles in his forehead deepened,
and at length he said in calm voice:
"I have nothing to say, my Lord.
I have been fool
enough to allow myself to be caught. Act as you please."
Then he turned his eyes away toward the coast which lay
on the west, and affected profound indifference to what
was passing around him. One would have thought him a
stranger to the whole affair. But Glenarvan was determined to be patient.
Powerful motives urged him to find
out certain details concerning the mysterious life of Ayrton,
especially those which related to Harry Grant and the Britannia. He
therefore resumed his interrogations, speaking
with extreme gentleness and firmly restraining his violent
irritation against him.
"I think, Ayrton," he went on, "that you will not refuse
to reply to certain questions that I wish to put to you; and,
first of all, ought I to call you Ayrton or Ben Joyce? Are
you, or are you not, the quartermaster of the Britannia?"
Ayrton remained impassive, gazing at the coast, deaf to
every question.
Glenarvan's eyes kindled, as he said again:
"Will you tell me how you left the Britannia, and why
you are in Australia?"
The same silence, the same impassibility.
"Listen to me, Ayrton," continued Glenarvan; "it is to
your interest to speak. Frankness is the only resource left
to you, and it may stand you in good stead. For the last
time, I ask you, will you reply to my questions?"
Ayrton turned his head toward Glenarvan, and looked
into his eyes.
"My Lord," he said, "it is not for me to answer. Justice may witness
against me, but I am not going to witness
against myself."
"Proof will be easy," said Glenarvan.
"Easy, my Lord," repeated Ayrton, in a mocking tone.
"Your honor makes rather a bold assertion there, it seems
to me. For my own part, I venture to affirm that the best
judge in the Temple would be puzzled what to make of me.
Who will say why I came to Australia, when Captain Grant
is not here to tell? Who will prove that I am the Ben Joyce
placarded by the police, when the police have never had me
in their hands, and my companions are at liberty? Who can
damage me except yourself, by bringing forward a single
crime against me, or even a blameable action? Who will
affirm that I intended to take possession of this ship and
deliver it into the hands of the convicts? No one, I tell you,
no one. You have your suspicions, but you need certainties
to condemn a man, and certainties you have none. Until
there is a proof to the contrary, I am Ayrton, quartermaster
of the Britannia."
Ayrton had become animated while he was speaking, but
soon relapsed into his former indifference.
He, no doubt, expected that his reply would close the examination, but
Glenarvan commenced again, and said:
"Ayrton, I am not a Crown prosecutor charged with your
indictment. That is no business of mine. It is important
that our respective situations should be clearly defined. I
am not asking you anything that could compromise you.
That is for justice to do. But you know what I am searching for, and a single
word may put me on the track I have
lost. Will you speak?"
Ayrton shook his head like a man determined to be
silent.
"Will you tell me where Captain Grant is?" asked Glenarvan.
"No, my Lord," replied Ayrton.
"Will you tell me where the Britannia was wrecked?"
"No, neither the one nor the other."
"Ayrton," said Glenarvan, in almost beseeching tones,
"if you know where Harry Grant is, will you, at least, tell
his poor children, who are waiting for you to speak the
word?"
Ayrton hesitated. His features contracted, and he muttered in a low
voice, "I cannot, my Lord."
Then he added with vehemence, as if reproaching himself for a momentary
weakness:
"No, I will not speak. Have me hanged, if you choose."
"Hanged!" exclaimed Glenarvan, overcome by a sudden feeling of anger.
But immediately mastering himself, he added in a grave
voice:
"Ayrton, there is neither judge nor executioner here.
At the first port we touch at, you will be given up into the
hands of the English authorities."
"That is what I demand," was the quartermaster's reply.
Then he turned away and quietly walked back to his
cabin, which served as his prison. Two sailors kept guard
at the door, with orders to watch his slightest movement.
The witnesses of this examination retired from the scene
indignant and despairing.
As Glenarvan could make no way against Ayrton's obstinacy, what was to be
done now? Plainly no course remained but to carry out the plan formed at Eden,
of
returning to Europe and giving up for the time this unsuccessful enterprise, for
the traces of the Britannia seemed
irrevocably lost, and the document did not appear to allow
any fresh interpretation. On the 37th parallel there was
not even another country, and the Duncan had only to turn
and go back.
After Glenarvan had consulted his friends, he talked over
the question of returning, more particularly with the captain. John examined the
coal bunkers, and found there
was only enough to last fifteen days longer at the outside.
It was necessary, therefore, to put in at the nearest port for
a fresh supply.
John proposed that he should steer for the Bay of Talcahuano, where the
Duncan had once before been revictualed
before she commenced her voyage of circumnavigation. It
was a direct route across, and lay exactly along the 37th
parallel. From thence the yacht, being amply provisioned,
might go south, double Cape Horn, and get back to Scotland
by the Atlantic route.
This plan was adopted, and orders were given to the engineer to get up
the steam. Half an hour afterward the
beak-head of the yacht was turned toward Talcahuano, over
a sea worthy of being called the Pacific, and at six P. M.
the last mountains of New Zealand had disappeared in
warm, hazy mist on the horizon.
The return voyage was fairly commenced. A sad voyage, for the courageous
searching party to come back to
the port without bringing home Harry Grant with them!
The crew, so joyous at departure and so hopeful, were coming back to Europe
defeated and discouraged. There was
not one among the brave fellows whose heart did not swell
at the thought of seeing his own country once more; and
yet there was not one among them either who would not
have been willing to brave the perils of the sea for a long
time still if they could but find Captain Grant.
Consequently, the hurrahs which greeted the return of
Lord Glenarvan to the yacht soon gave place to dejection.
Instead of the close intercourse which had formerly existed
among the passengers, and the lively conversations which
had cheered the voyage, each one kept apart from the others
in the solitude of his own cabin, and it was seldom that
anyone appeared on the deck of the Duncan.
Paganel, who generally shared in an exaggerated form
the feelings of those about him, whether painful or joyous
— a man who could have invented hope if necessary — even
Paganel was gloomy and taciturn. He was seldom visible; his natural loquacity
and French vivacity gave place
to silence and dejection. He seemed even more downhearted than his companions.
If Glenarvan spoke at all of
renewing the search, he shook his head like a man who has
given up all hope, and whose convictions concerning the fate
of the shipwrecked men appeared settled. It was quite evident he believed them
irrevocably lost.
And yet there was a man on board who could have spoken
the decisive word, and refused to break his silence. This
was Ayrton. There was no doubt the fellow knew, if not
the present whereabouts of the captain, at least the place of
shipwreck. But it was evident that were Grant found, he
would be a witness against him. Hence his persistent silence, which gave rise to
great indignation on board, especially among the crew, who would have liked to
deal summarily with him.
Glenarvan repeatedly renewed his attempts with the quartermaster, but
promises and threats were alike useless. Ayrton's obstinacy was so great, and so
inexplicable, that the
Major began to believe he had nothing to reveal. His opinion was shared,
moreover, by the geographer, as it corroborated his own notion about Harry
Grant.
But if Ayrton knew nothing, why did he not confess his
ignorance? It could not be turned against him. His silence increased the
difficulty of forming any new plan. Was
the presence of the quartermaster on the Australian continent a proof of Harry
Grant's being there? It was settled
that they must get this information out of Ayrton.
Lady Helena, seeing her husband's ill-success, asked his
permission to try her powers against the obstinacy of the
quartermaster. When a man had failed, a woman perhaps,
with her gentler influence, might succeed. Is there not a
constant repetition going on of the story of the fable where
the storm, blow as it will, cannot tear the cloak from the
shoulders of the traveler, while the first warm rays of sunshine make him throw
it off immediately?
Glenarvan, knowing his young wife's good sense, allowed
her to act as she pleased.
The same day (the 5th of March), Ayrton was conducted
to Lady Helena's saloon. Mary Grant was to be present
at the interview, for the influence of the young girl might
be considerable, and Lady Helena would not lose any chance
of success.
For a whole hour the two ladies were closeted with the
quartermaster, but nothing transpired about their interview.
What had been said, what arguments they used to win the
secret from the convict, or what questions were asked, remained unknown; but
when they left Ayrton, they did not
seem to have succeeded, as the expression on their faces
denoted discouragement.
In consequence of this, when the quartermaster was being
taken back to his cabin, the sailors met him with violent
menaces. He took no notice except by shrugging his shoulders, which so increased
their rage, that John Mangles and
Glenarvan had to interfere, and could only repress it with
difficulty.
But Lady Helena would not own herself vanquished. She
resolved to struggle to the last with this pitiless man, and
went next day herself to his cabin to avoid exposing him
again to the vindictiveness of the crew.
The good and gentle Scotchwoman stayed alone with the
convict leader for two long hours. Glenarvan in a state of
extreme nervous anxiety, remained outside the cabin, alternately resolved to
exhaust completely this last chance of
success, alternately resolved to rush in and snatch his wife
from so painful a situation.
But this time when Lady Helena reappeared, her look
was full of hope. Had she succeeded in extracting the
secret, and awakening in that adamant heart a last faint
touch of pity?
McNabbs, who first saw her, could not restrain a gesture
of incredulity.
However the report soon spread among the sailors that
the quartermaster had yielded to the persuasions of Lady
Helena. The effect was electrical. The entire crew assembled on deck far quicker
than Tom Austin's whistle
could have brought them together.
Glenarvan had hastened up to his wife and eagerly asked:
"Has he spoken?"
"No," replied Lady Helena, "but he has yielded to my
entreaties, and wishes to see you."
"Ah, dear Helena, you have succeeded!"
"I hope so, Edward."
"Have you made him any promise that I must ratify?"
"Only one; that you will do all in your power to mitigate
his punishment."
"Very well, dear Helena. Let Ayrton come immediately."
Lady Helena retired to her cabin with Mary Grant, and
the quartermaster was brought into the saloon where Lord
Glenarvan was expecting him.