WHENEVER I read of an actor playing for the first time a part which is to make or mar his reputation, my thoughts fly back to that wet squally evening on the Lisbon water-front. The big warehouse with its piles of varied merchandise; the curiously composite smell with its predominating scent of hay; the creaking of the tall slide doors at the front as the wind dashed at them and whistled through the crevices and whispered and rustled in the cavernous gloom of the building, the hiss and spume of the waters of the bay, and Burroughs, Bryant and I grouped together by the smaller door as I stood listening intently for the cue to “go on.”
I was, and yet was not, nervous. That is, I was sure of myself and confident of success, was quite cool, and had not a thought of shrinking from the scene to be played; but at the same time my pulses were beating very fast, my tongue was dry, and I kept moistening my lips and biting them, and I could not keep my hands still nor my fingers from fidgetting, and I am sure I was very pale.
I knew that success or failure might turn upon my giving the signal to leave the shed at exactly the right moment. If I went too soon, the men waiting at the end of the narrow passage would know the king had not had time to pass through the shed from the launch. If I delayed too long, the king himself might come out before the “abduction” had taken place.
Yet I had nothing to guide me. After the whistle of the launch we could not hear a sound to indicate what was passing—the racket of the wind made that impossible. Had I foreseen this, I saw how simply I could have avoided this perplexity. A hole or two bored in the big gates or a brick loosened in the partition wall between the two sheds would have sufficed; and I cursed my stupidity in having lost sight of the precaution.
“Can you hear anything?” I whispered to Burroughs, but both he and Bryant were in the same dismayed perplexity as I.
“There seems a hitch somewhere,” he whispered back.
“Well, I shan’t wait any longer,” I decided a moment later, and I opened the door with as little noise as possible.
It creaked horribly on the hinges, however, and jammed half-way, and I caught my breath, fearing that the wrench I had to give it must surely be heard by those in the adjoining shed. Then the wind came rushing through with most disconcerting violence; and I only just succeeded in preventing the door from slamming to with a tell-tale bang.
“A bold face on it, and we shall soon know,” I said as we started through the drenching rain squall.
Burroughs went in front with Bryant close to his side, while I kept behind as I did not wish the man who was on the look-out to see that there were two replicas of the king’s august person.
The rain gave us invaluable help, for it rendered impossible any exact recognition of us by the man on the watch.
We walked some ten yards along the narrow passage before he even saw us. Then he waved his whip, jerked at his horses, and began to back them past the end of the building to our left.
At that moment the strenuous excitement was relieved by a touch of the ludicrous. In the preoccupation of the period of suspense I had forgotten to stick on the false moustache without which any imposture would have been instantly detected.
I called to the others to halt a moment, and fishing the thing out of my pocket I dabbed it on, and had to hold it in its place by crinkling my upper lip against my nose.
Burroughs and Bryant turned back; and I pulled my felt hat well down over my face, held my head down as if to avoid the pelting rain and hurried on alone.
On reaching the corner I purposely quickened my pace, and as I turned, something was thrown over my head, a hand was clapped to my mouth—outside the cloak fortunately, otherwise it might have been my moustache only which would have been abducted—and I was lifted off my feet and carried bodily away.
I made a pretence of struggling.
“No harm will happen to you unless you resist or try to cry out,” said a voice sternly.
I felt I could safely desist, therefore, and let them carry me the rest of the distance to the launch, where I was placed in the little deckhouse with a couple of men to hold me down.
I made another feeble struggle then, and once more I was ordered with threats to lie still.
In the struggle I managed to get my hands up to my face and luckily found the moustache which I stuck on again.
Almost immediately afterwards, I was turned face downwards, and the covering cloak or cloth or whatever it was, was pulled back sufficiently to allow of a revolver being thrust against my head.
“If you dare even to look round, I shall fire,” said the same voice, and I replied with an appropriate shiver of fear. I chuckled as I realized that the men were as anxious I should not see their faces as I was that they should not see mine.
Next I felt a hand on my forehead, my face was lifted an inch or two, and a thick wide scarf, in which a gag was fastened, was wound twice round my head and fastened at the back, and then my hands were tied behind me.
It was extremely uncomfortable, of course, and I had great difficulty in breathing, but that was all. A very small discount from the success which I had scored.
After that I was left to my own meditations, and I guessed that I was not one whit less excited or ill at ease than my captors. My one qualm was whether the scarf would be taken off before I was left in the cabin which was in readiness for me on the Rampallo. If it was, then the confounded moustache would assuredly go with it and that farcical incident might prove to be the curtain raiser to a very serious drama and possibly a tragedy.
But the men’s unwillingness to let me see their faces was a fact of auspicious promise, and I judged that their reluctance would not lessen until they were practically certain their desperate venture had succeeded. So long as failure was a possible contingency, it would be practicable for them to make a bolt of it in a body, with much less risk of recognition than if “His Majesty” had seen that his abductors were officers whom he knew well by sight and probably by name.
Nor could they be absolutely certain of success until the Rampallo was many knots on her way to Oporto. They would naturally calculate that the abduction would be discovered almost at once; and were no doubt afraid that the authorities would be roused to prompt and energetic action, with the result that the yacht might be stopped before she could get out of the river.
I persuaded myself, therefore, that the risk of my impersonation being detected was over for some hours at least, and as this was the most comforting thought for me, there was no good purpose to be gained by anticipating trouble.
The launch was a vile sea boat. She kicked about and tossed and pitched like the ill-behaved cockle-shell she was, and, as I was powerless to help myself, I rolled about the floor like a bale of goods or a very intoxicated monarch; and the man in charge understood neither how to manage her properly nor how to make matters easier for his “king.”
I was heartily glad, therefore, when we bumped alongside the Rampallo and I was hoisted aboard. They handled me with all the clumsiness of nervous amateurs, and I think that was the moment of my greatest peril, for the launch danced and bobbed about so much that they nearly dropped me into the river.
But they did not unfasten the scarf, and I was taken below into a cabin, laid on the berth, my hands still tied and the gag in position, and locked in.
Had they peeped in a few minutes later they would have been considerably surprised. They were as great bunglers in tying my hands as they were in managing the launch, and I had not the least difficulty in wriggling my arms free. A vigorous tug tore off the head-gear, wig, and all, and as there were a couple of serviceable bolts on the door I shot them home softly, and indulged in the luxury of unimpeded breathing. It had not occurred to them apparently, that “His Majesty” might be quite as anxious to keep them out of the cabin as they were to keep him in; otherwise they would have removed the door fastenings.
Then I closed the porthole and covered it over, took off the shot-weighed shooting rig, and with my revolver ready at hand, I threw myself at full length on the bunk to cool and wait for the next act.
I was in darkness, of course, but by feeling the hands of my watch I found the time to be just nine o’clock. It would be dawn between four and five; and I had thus some seven or eight hours to wait before signalling to Burroughs on the Stella. I was now quite easy in mind about the issue, and as no one could enter the cabin without making noise enough to wake me, there was no reason why I should not go to sleep.
The yacht was under weigh almost as soon as I was placed in the cabin and, so far as I could gauge the speed, was making no more than from ten to twelve knots.
I was just dropping off to sleep when some one tried the door and was apparently very much astonished to find it fastened on my side. It must have seemed something like a conjuring trick for a “king” gagged and bound, as I was, to have accomplished such a feat.
I took no notice, of course. There was some whispered consultation followed by more knocking and more whispering, and then I was left at peace. They concluded, no doubt, that as they could force the door at any time, there was no use in doing so until we were near Oporto; and that if I preferred to remain gagged, instead of allowing them to release me, the “royal” prerogative entitled me to punish myself.
Anyhow, they went away and I went to sleep, and did not wake until the dawn was breaking. I had very little doubt that I passed a more comfortable night than any one else on the yacht.
I opened the porthole and shoving my head through was intensely pleased to see the Stella under easy steam about a mile astern. I waved a towel as a signal to the skipper to close up, and having edged it and left it fluttering, I looked carefully to see that my revolver was loaded, and sat down to speculate as to what form the crisis would take.
As the Stella could steam two knots to the Rampallo’s one, a few minutes after my signal was observed would bring matters to a head. But those minutes might bring trouble my way, of course.
The first sign of it was a hurried trampling of feet on the deck over my head, followed almost directly by a loud knocking at my cabin door and an angry demand for me to open it.
I let them knock and call as they pleased and then some one said that the door was to be broken in. But I did not wish that to be done and did wish to make delay, so I rapped back loudly with the butt of my revolver.
“Open the door at once,” came in loud angry tones.
Putting my handkerchief to my mouth I yelled back a lot of muffled unintelligible gibberish. An altercation followed in which they continued to call to me to open and I replied with the same sort of rot and played with the bolts as if fumbling in an attempt to unfasten them.
In this way I gained two or three invaluable minutes, and a glance out of the porthole showed me that the Stella was coming up very fast.
Their impatience drove them to act at last; and the first blow was struck to force the way in.
“Wait. I’ll open it,” I shouted.
I drew the bolts and stepped back as a hail came across the water in Burroughs’ stentorian tones.
There are many ways of showing astonishment, and most of them were conspicuous as the door flew open and four men started to rush in and then jumped back from my levelled weapon.
“Well, gentlemen, I should like to know what the devil you mean by kidnapping me in this way,” I sang out and then, to their further astonishment, I burst out laughing.
If my life had depended upon my keeping serious, I could not have helped laughing at the ridiculous figures they cut. It was not so much their boundless amazement at seeing me instead of the king, nor their quick retreat from my weapon, but their general appearance which was so irresistibly comic.
They wore neither coat, waistcoat, nor collar, their trousers were rolled up to the knees, in their shirts of finest linen were gold studs and the sleeves were rolled up to the elbows, their boots were faultless in fit, all four wore gloves, and two of them carried pince-nez; while from the top to toe they were smothered in a mixture of machine oil, perspiration and coal dust.
They looked for all the world like amateur greasers badly made up and coming straight from the comic opera stage.
“Who are you and where is——” stammered one of them, when a companion stopped him and stepped forward.
“Leave this to me,” he said and then to me: “Who are you?”
“I am the king of Portugal, of course—Dom Carlos,” I replied, trying to keep my face straight. “Where is Captain Gompez?”
“I am Captain Gompez.”
“I’m afraid you’ve had rather a rough night of it, captain. Stokehole work is trying for an amateur.”
“Who are you, sir? I’m in no mood for fooling.”
“I should think not after such an experience. But as you are the owner of this boat, tell me why you brought me here?”
As I said this I saw one of the younger men—a red-headed, fiery-looking fellow—pull off his gloves furtively and begin to reach for his hip pocket. “If either of you attempts to draw on me I shall fire at whoever’s nearest to me,” I sang out in a very different tone.
Captain Gompez was the nearest and he promptly turned and stopped the fellow who then tried to sneak away.
But I wouldn’t have that either. “You stop just where you are,” I said. “I’m like your leader here—in no mood for fooling.”
At this moment Burroughs fired the blank cartridge from the Stella, and some one called excitedly for Captain Gompez.
Taken aback by the unexpected development, all four started and I took advantage of the moment when their eyes were off me to grab hold of the captain and drag him into the cabin and then slammed the door to and shot home one of the bolts.
“Now we can talk this——”
Before I could finish the sentence he flung himself upon me with an oath in a desperate effort to grab my weapon, while he shouted to the others to break in the door.
Like a fool I had allowed myself to be taken by surprise, and in a second he had me pinned against the wall and at a terrible disadvantage.
I could not use my weapon, and my life depended on my preventing him from getting it.