Story 1--Chapter XI.
In Bessy’s Cabin.
So determined was Captain Studwick not to be lightly trifled with that a pistol was in his hand as he ran back to the side, but his alarm was unnecessary, for the scuffling noise was caused merely by Mr Parkley catching their visitor as she tottered and nearly fell on the deck.
“Let me see my husband, Mr Parkley,” she moaned, “for pity’s sake let me see my husband. If I saw him and spoke to him, he would listen to me.”
“But, my dear child,” began Mr Parkley.
“I shall die if I do not see him,” she moaned again. “I have been so ill—I have suffered so much, and this evening the news came that he was going away—away without seeing me. Oh, God, what have I done that I should suffer so!”
“My dear child—my dear Mrs Pugh.”
“I must see him—pray, pray take me to him,” she sobbed, “it is more than I can—more than I can bear.”
Mr Parkley caught her again just in time, for she swooned away, and laying her upon the deck he tried hard to restore her. Then looking up he became aware that the lights of the town were fast receding.
“Why, Studwick,” he exclaimed, “the schooner’s moving.”
“Yes,” said the captain.
“But the boat this poor girl came off in?”
“Ashore by this time.”
“But we can’t take her. Hang it, man, we cannot have domestic differences on board. She must go back.”
“We must now land her at Plymouth,” said the captain. “Send for my Bessy, man, she will soon bring her to. How foolish of the little woman to come aboard.”
“Shall I fetch the young lady, sir?” said Sam Oakum gruffly, as he stood with a look of disgust upon his face.
“Yes, for goodness’ sake, do. Quick!” exclaimed Mr Parkley, whose efforts to restore animation were all in vain.
Just as Sam went aft, though, Mrs Pugh began to revive, stared wildly about, and sitting up saw the captain bending over her.
“Captain Studwick,” she cried, catching his hand and drawing herself upon her knees to cling to him, “don’t send me back—don’t send me away. Let me go too. I could not bear to part from my husband like this. He is angry with me,” she whispered, “I cannot tell you why, but he has not spoken to me for days, and I have been so—so ill.”
“Yes, yes, you shall see him, my dear, but stand up. You must not make a scene.”
“Oh no,” she exclaimed, rising hastily, “I will do anything you say, only let me see him and explain. Let me go with, you. If I could talk to him he would believe me, and all would be well again. If not,” she said with a hysterical cry, “I shall go mad—I shall go mad.”
“Come, let me take you below,” said the captain, for she was clinging tightly to his arm.
“Yes, yes,” whispered the poor trembling woman. “I could not help that; I am trying so hard to be calm, but my poor breast is so care-laden that a cry would escape. Let me go with you, Captain Studwick. I will be so quiet—so careful.”
“It is impossible, my dear child,” he said in a husky voice, for her agony affected him.
“No, no, don’t say that; I will help Bessy nurse your poor son. She loves me, and believes in me, and I will give no trouble. If you set me ashore I shall die of grief. I cannot live to be separated from my husband—for him to leave me like this.”
“Well, well, well, I’ll see what I can do,” said the captain in the quieting way that one would speak to a child; but she peered instantly into his face.
“You are deceiving me,” she cried. “You are trying to calm me with promises, and you mean to set me ashore. Mr Parkley,” she wailed, turning to him, “you know me, and believe in me: you know the cause of this trouble. Take me to my dear husband, and help me to drive away this horrible belief of his, or I shall die.”
“My dear child—my dear child,” he said, drawing her to him, “I will try all I can.”
“But you will set me ashore again when I strove so hard to get to him. I was so ill in bed, and he has not been near me. I found out that you were taking Dutch from me, and I could not stay. Let me see him—oh, let me see him!”
“You shall, my dear, as soon as you are calm.”
“But he is here,” she whispered, not daring to raise her voice lest, in her excited state, it should get the mastery over her, and she should burst forth in hysterical wails.
“Yes, my child, he is here. He is asleep below.”
“Poor Dutch!” she whispered to herself; and then with a faint, weary smile she laid her hands in those of her old friend. “There, you can see how calm and patient I will be,” she continued. “No one shall suspect any trouble. I will be so quiet and patient, and if he will not listen to me, I will not complain, so long as I am near him—only wait till God changes his heart towards me.”
“There, then, you shall stay—till we get to Plymouth,” exclaimed Mr Parkley, hastily passing his hand across his eyes. “Don’t let the men see that anything’s the matter, my dear.”
“No: oh, no,” she replied. “I’m quite calm now. Ah, here’s Miss Studwick.”
“You here, Mrs Pugh!” exclaimed the captain’s daughter, who believed that she was coming to her father.
“Yes, I could not stay,” Sobbed Hester. “I was obliged to come. Oh, Bessy, dear Bessy, don’t shrink from me,” she wailed, as the men gladly drew away and left them together.
“Hush! don’t say a word here,” said Bessy, glancing round, and speaking hoarsely; “come down to my cabin.”
Hester tottered, and would have fallen, but Bessy caught her arm and led her below, where, as soon as they were alone, the former fell upon her knees, and held up her hands, catching those of Bessy as she stood before her.
“Listen to me, Miss Studwick,” she moaned. “Don’t condemn me unheard. I thought you believed in me, but you shrank from me just now.”
Bessy did not speak, but gazed down on the sobbing woman with a look of pity.
“My dear husband has allowed cruel suspicions to creep into his heart, and he wrongs me—he does, indeed. Oh, Bessy, Bessy, you loved him once, I know, I know you did, and you must have hated me for taking his love from you.”
A low sigh burst from Bessy’s breast, but she did not speak.
“You know,” sobbed Hester, “how true and noble and frank he is.”
“I do,” said Bessy softly.
“Then, what would the woman be who could betray him, even in thought? Would she not be the vilest, the most cruel of wretches?”
“She would, indeed,” said Bessy coldly.
“Bessy—Miss Studwick,” cried Hester, with a low wail of misery, “if I have committed any sin it is that of loving my dear husband too well. God—God knows how innocent I am. Oh! it is too hard to bear.”
She sank lower on the cabin floor, weeping silently, but only by a great effort, for the heavy sobs kept rising to her lips, and in her agony the intense desire to obtain relief in uttering loud cries was almost more than she could master.
Bessy stood looking down upon her with brows knit and lips pressed together, for her heart whispered to her that this was a judgment on this woman, who had robbed her of her love, and that she ought to rejoice over her downfall. Then, too, the thought came that, this idol fallen, she might, perhaps, herself be raised up in its place, and a flash of joy irradiated her mind, but only for a moment. Then her better nature prevailed, and bending down she lifted the prostrate woman with ease, and laid her upon the couch-like locker that filled one side of the cabin, kneeling down beside her, and drawing the dishevelled head upon her bosom.
“Hester,” she whispered, “I did hate you, very, very bitterly, as intensely as I once loved Dutch Pugh; but all that is passed. When I came to your house, and began to know you better, I used to go home and kneel down and pray for his happiness with you, while, when I heard of his trouble, my hatred began to fight its way back, so that the last day or two I have felt ready to curse you for the wreck you have made.”
“Oh, no, no, no,” sobbed Hester, clinging to her; “I am innocent.”
“Yes, I know and believe that now,” said Bessy; “and I will help you to win him back to the same belief.”
“But you will bring him to me quickly, or they will set me ashore,” wailed Hester, clinging tightly to her companion as she uttered a sigh of relief. “If I could but stay only to see him sometimes, and know that he was safe, I should wait then patiently until he came to me and told me that all this dreadful dream was at an end.”
“And you believe that he will do this?”
“Believe!” cried Hester, starting up, and gazing full at her companion. “Oh, yes, I believe it. It may be long first, but the time will come, and I can wait—I can wait—I can wait.”
She sank back quite exhausted as she repeated the last words again and again in a whisper, the last time almost inaudibly; and then, holding Bessy Studwick’s hand tightly clasped to her bosom, her eyes closed, and she sank into the deep sleep of exhaustion, the first sleep that had visited the weary woman for three nights; while, as the light from the cabin lamp fell athwart her pretty troubled face, Bessy knelt there watching her, passing her soft white hand across the forehead to sweep away the tangled locks. Then as the time wore on, and the rippling, plashing noise of the water against the ship grew louder, and the footsteps on the deck less frequent, she listened for the catching sighs that escaped at intervals from the sleeping young wife’s lips, her own tears stealing gently down from time to time, as Hester murmured more than once the name of which she had herself loved to dream.
“Poor Dutch! and he might have felt the same trouble, perhaps about me,” thought Bessy, as she bent over and kissed Hester’s cheek, to feel the sleeping woman’s arms steal round her neck for a moment, and then glide softly down again.
“No, no, it could not be true,” she whispered again, as she knelt there watching hour after hour for Hester to awake, till her own head sank lower and lower, and at last she fell asleep by the suffering woman’s side.
Story 1--Chapter XII.
The Doctor’s Decree.
As the morning broke bright and clear, the large three-masted schooner was running down the Channel under easy sail, and the men were beginning to fall into their places, though all was at present rather awkward and strange. Captain Studwick and Mr Parkley had gone below, congratulating themselves on having succeeded so far, and placed themselves out of the reach of Lauré’s machinations, while Mr Jones, the mate, had taken charge, and was now pacing the deck in company with Dutch, who was trying hard to master his pain by throwing his whole soul into the adventure.
In spite of himself, though, a little suffering face constantly presented itself before him; and again and again he found his conscience smiting him, and charging him with cruelty in forsaking his wife—asking him, too, if he was sure that his suspicions were just.
At such times he recalled the shadows on the blind, set his teeth, and thought of Lauré’s sneering laugh of triumph, and then his blood seemed to boil up, and it was only by a strong effort that he was able to master the agony he felt, mingled as it was with a desire for revenge.
“If I don’t get to work at something,” he muttered, “I shall go mad.”
Just then the sun rose bright and clear, sending a flood of wondrous radiance over the dancing waters, flecking the distant land with golden radiance and dark shadows, while the soft mists gradually rose higher and higher, gleaming like transparent silver, as they floated over woodland and down.
“I wonder whether I shall ever see you again,” muttered Dutch to himself, as he leaned over the bulwark, and gazed at the beautiful panorama by which they were swiftly gliding; and then, turning away with a sigh, he came full upon the dark-skinned mulatto sailor, busily coiling down a rope, and Dutch started slightly, half feeling that he had seen the lowering countenance before, but the man paid no heed to him, only went on with his task with his tarry hands, and finally limped off to another part of the vessel.
Just then Captain Studwick and Mr Parkley came on deck, talking earnestly, and when he went forward to shake hands they looked troubled, and there was an air of constraint in their manner that he could not understand.
“Well, gentlemen,” he said, with an affectation of ease which he did not feel, “we are out of our troubles now.”
“I don’t know so much about that,” said Mr Parkley. “Eh, Studwick?”
“No,” said the captain, “I don’t know either.”
“Why, what do you mean?” said Dutch, and his eye involuntarily fell upon the dark-skinned sailor, who was close at hand. “You don’t suspect that the Cuban can interfere now?”
“You’d better tell him,” whispered Mr Parkley.
“No, no, you tell him,” said the captain uneasily, “known him longer, and so on.”
“What are you whispering about?” exclaimed Dutch. “Pray speak out.”
Mr Parkley looked at the captain for help, but he began to whistle, and walked away to give an order.
“Well, my dear Pugh, the fact is,” said Mr Parkley, taking hold of his special button.
“Pray go on,” exclaimed Dutch, “not anything serious?”
“N-no, not serious, but awkward. The fact is your wife came on board last night.”
“My wife!” exclaimed Dutch, and a flash of joy lit up his face. Then the sombre cloud overshadowed it again, and he exclaimed bitterly, “I have no wife,” and walked away.
“Well, my lad,” said Captain Studwick sharply, for the mulatto had ceased working, and, half bent down as he was, stood listening intently to all that passed, “you’ve nothing to do with what those gentlemen are saying.”
The man made a deprecating motion with his hand and bent to his work again.
“We may as well understand each other at once,” said the captain sharply. “Stand up.”
The mulatto stood up, but in a half-averted way, and displayed a curious sinister expression, caused by what appeared to be a scar across his cheek, while his eyes seemed shifty and unable to meet the speaker’s gaze.
“What is your name?”
“Tonio,” said the mulatto.
“Well, Tonio, mind this: You are engaged here for good pay. I always see that my men are well supplied in their mess, and, in return, I expect smart work and strict obedience. Do you understand?”
“Yes, captain,” said the man, in a tone half sulky, half-full of humiliation.
“That will do. Now go and help that fellow to take a pull at the jib.”
The man went limping off, but with great alacrity, passing Dutch, who came back looking very stern and angry.
“Captain Studwick, I must ask you to put in at Plymouth. Mr Parkley, she must be set ashore.”
“But, my dear boy, had you not better see her first. I’m—I’m afraid she will object to go without.”
“No,” said Dutch sternly, and he gazed at both in turn. “She must be set ashore as soon as possible.”
Captain Studwick walked forward again, whistling, and then pulling out his glass he took a look at a fast steamer astern.
“Parkley,” said Dutch, as soon as they were alone, “I could not say it before him, but I have not the manly strength to see her. I am weak as water, and I could not bear to see her agony. Tell her,” he added with his lower lip working, “that I forgive her, and will pray for her, but I can never see her again.”
“But, my dear Pugh, you must—”
“Good morning, gentlemen,” said a voice that made them start; and turning sharply round, it was to find Mr Meldon, the young doctor. “I wanted to see you, Mr Pugh.”
“To see me?”
“Yes, about Mrs Pugh. You know she came on board last night.”
“Yes, I know,” said Pugh, coldly.
“She must have left her sick bed to come and see you, I suppose. It was a very ill-advised course, for she was ill.”
“Yes,” exclaimed Dutch, with an eagerness he could not conceal.
“And I am sorry to say that she is now in a high state of fever.”
“Fever!”
“Yes, and quite delirious.”
“We must put back, then,” exclaimed Dutch. “She must be set ashore—taken home.”
“I should not like to take the responsibility of having her moved,” said the doctor. “If you will take my advice, you will let her remain.”
“Let her remain?” gasped Dutch. “Impossible!”
“No,” said the doctor, smiling; “the removal is impossible.”
“Is she in danger?”
“Not necessarily now; but she would be in great danger if moved. I’m afraid I must ask you to leave her to me. It is fortunate that I was on board, and that she has so good a nurse with her as Miss Studwick.”
Dutch essayed to speak, but no words came, and drawing in his breath as if in intense pain he walked to the side and stood with his head resting upon his hand, looking out to sea, and wondering how this tangle was to be ended.
“Poor fellow! he seems a good deal cut up about it,” said Mr Meldon, who was a dark, earnest-looking man of three or four-and-thirty.
“Yes,” said Mr Parkley. “She was to have gone ashore at Plymouth.”
“Ha?” said Meldon. “Poor young thing. Great trouble about parting from her husband.”
“Ye-es,” said Parkley. Then, to turn the conversation, he said with a smile, “Lucky thing for us bachelors, Mr Meldon. We never have to trouble our heads about the women.”
“N-no,” said the doctor, looking sharply at his companion, with a broad red stain of blood suffusing his cheeks. “Quite a novelty, though, a voyage with ladies on board. He didn’t hear me,” he continued, as Mr Parkley obeyed a sign from the captain to come and have a look through his glass at the steamer astern.
“No, sir, he’s gone to have a good look at that steamer, as seems as if she meant to overhaul us,” said Sam Oakum; “but I heard you, and you’re right.”
“Let’s see, you are the second mate, aren’t you, Mr Oakum?”
“Sir, to you, I am,” said Oakum.
“But what do you mean by being right?” said the doctor with a smile.
“’Bout having ladies on board, sir. I know I’ve been voyages before with women aboard twice or three times mayhap, and no good can come of it.”
“Ah, you’re a croaker, I see,” said the doctor, nodding and laughing. “Your liver’s out of order.”
“Hope I am, sir; and as to my liver, I don’t believe I’ve got one, leastways I can’t say as I knows I’ve one. Ay, ay, sir, coming.”
He trotted forward to obey a call from the captain, and more sail was hoisted, the steamer still overhauling them, and both the captain and Mr Parkley watched her intently, fully expecting to find that this was some new trick of the Cuban, but to the satisfaction of all concerned it proved a false alarm, and the schooner continued her way onwards towards the west.
It soon became evident, even to the greatest doubter, that the doctor was in the right, and, accepting it as fate that Hester must remain on board, Dutch devoted himself to the preparations for their cruise, rather avoiding the cabins when possible, and dividing his time between reading to the invalid John Studwick, and long talks with old Sam Oakum about the coast and the places where he swore the old plate-ships lay.
“Lor’ bless you, Mr Pugh, sir, and you, Mr Parkley,” Oakum said one day, when Land’s End had long been left behind, and all was open water, “I’m as sure of the place as can be. I remember all the bearings, too, so well. Don’t you be skeart about that; I’ll take you, sure enough.”
“Well, Oakum, we are going to trust you,” said Mr Parkley, “and if you lead us to success you shall not go unrewarded.”
“I don’t want no reward, sir,” said the old man gruffly. “If it turns up trumps, you give me a pound or two o’ bacco, and I shall be satisfied.”
Mr Parkley laughed, and after a time left them together, Dutch seeming to find solace in the old sailor’s company as, in a grumbling way, he began to talk about the state of those on board.
“Seems to me, sir, as it warn’t wise to bring that there poor fellow aboard here, just to die and be wrapped in a hammock, for a sailor’s funeral: he’s allus in your way, and gives a fellow low spirits to see. Look at that steward as the skipper must have, just as if we wanted a steward when we’ve got ’Pollo, as is as good a cook as ever came to. Great fat fellow to go walloping down just when I wanted some rope coiled down, and set to blubbering like a great gal because he’s left his wife behind.”
Dutch winced slightly, and turned away to light a cigar.
“By-the-way, sir, how’s your missus?” said Oakum.
“Better, decidedly,” said Dutch shortly.
“Glad on it, sir. Not as I likes women aboard; but I don’t want ’em to be ill. Good job we’ve got the doctor here, to see as everybody takes his salts and senny reg’lar; but what in the world the skipper meant by shipping that great long chap, Mr Wilson, for I don’t know. He won’t go into one o’ your soots, Mr Dutch, I know.”
“Oh, no,” said Dutch, smiling; “he’s a naturalist, and going to collect birds.”
“And take ’em out too, sir. He is a long-legged ’un. Why, I see him hit his head twiced up agen the cabin ceiling, and he’s allus knocking his hat out o’ shape. Nattalist, eh? Well, he’s about the unnattalist-shaped chap I ever see, and all corners. It’s my opinion, sir, as when he was made Natur begun him for a geerarf, and when she’d done his legs altered her mind and turned him into a man. You don’t mind me going on talking, sir?”
“No, Oakum, I like it,” said Dutch, though he hardly took in a word.
“Well, sir, he’s got a couple of cages full of birds, robins, and sparrers, and starnels, and all sorts, as he says he’s going to set free out in South Amerikee, and bring back the cages full of other sorts.”
“Naturalists have queer ideas, Oakum,” said Dutch, moving himself. “But about this place we are going to. The sea is always calm, you say?”
“’Cept in stormy times, sir, when, of course, she gets a bit thick. But there, don’t you worry about that; we’ll take you right to the spot, and lay you just where you can have the long-boat out with the pumps and traps, or maybe even get the schooner anchored right over the place, and you and Master Rasp there can go down and crowbar the gold and silver out in heaps.”
“But suppose some one has been there before us,” said Dutch.
“Not they, sir: first place, no one knows of it ’cept that furren gentleman; second place, where’s the air-pumps and divers’ togs, to go down and get at it? I get wondering now why I never thought of a trip out there, after being with Capen Studwick here, but I never did. And now, sir, if you’ll give me a light I’ll have a quiet smoke.”
Dutch took out a match-box, and was going to light up, but Oakum held up his hand to command silence; and before the young man could make out what he was about to do, he stepped softly to the side, where a large tarpaulin covered one of the boats lying in its chocks, gave one end of the cover a sharp snatch, and the mulatto started up.
“Now then, out o’ that,” said the old sailor, menacingly. “If you want a caulk, just you take it below in your bunk.”
The man bent his head, as he leaped lightly out, gave Oakum a curious look from beneath his half-closed eyelids, and then limped forward.
“I don’t like the looks o’ that chap, Mr Dutch. He’s one o’ the sort, that if you hit him, he’d out with a knife and sheath it in a man’s ribs. That chap was listening, that’s what he was a-doing, though he pretended to be asleep. I don’t like the look on him, nor of some more o’ them as come aboard with him, and if the skipper don’t look out there’ll be mischief.”
“I’m afraid you are given to prophesying evil, Oakum,” said Dutch, with a smile.
“Well, sir, I on’y says what I thinks, but, mind you this: if we get back safe, I shall be surprised, for never yet, when I’ve gone out to sea with petticoats on board have we got back without an accident.”
“Nonsense, man.”
“’Taint nonsense, sir; it’s fate,” said Oakum, “and what’s more, look here, I ain’t a sooperstitious man, but the speerits o’ them sailors as was lost in the olden times along o’ the treasure ships ain’t a-going to let us get hold o’ what they’ve been watching all those hundreds o’ years without making a bit of a how-de-do.”
Story 1--Chapter XIII.
The Captain’s Suspicions.
The next day it came on to blow—and for quite a week tempestuous weather set in, the schooner skimming along almost under bare poles, but progressing well on her voyage. Captain Studwick had some trouble with his men, but on the whole they were pretty good sailors, and his strict discipline kept them well to their work, so that, from showing at first a little insubordination, they went pretty willingly to their duties.
On the tenth day out, the sun rose over a sea just rippled by a pleasant breeze. The men were busy drying clothes, and all the ports and hatches were well open, and as the day wore on Mrs Pugh, looking very weak and pale, came on deck, leaning on Bessy Studwick’s arm, the latter leading her to where Dutch was talking to Mr Parkley.
Dutch started as he saw them coming up, then, bowing coldly, he walked to the other side of the deck to where John Studwick was sitting, impatiently watching his sister; and as soon as he saw Mr Parkley lead Mrs Pugh to a seat, he called to Bessy sharply to come to him, keeping her jealously by his side, as he saw Mr Wilson and the doctor come up and begin walking up and down, and frowning as they both raised their hats, and smiled at his sister.
“I wish you would not notice these men, Bessy,” he exclaimed in an impatient whisper.
“I only bowed courteously to them, John dear,” she said sadly; “and I will not speak to them if you do not wish it.”
“I don’t like it,” he said, hastily. “Come and read to me.”
She glanced across at Hester Pugh, and saw her white lips working as her eyes followed her husband, and then, taking up a book, began to read to her brother.
“Look at that, Bob,” said one of a little group of men, busy overhauling a large sail which had been split during the late gale.
“Yes, he looks bad enough,” said another. “A couple more days like we’ve had would about finish him.”
“Get out,” said the other; “I don’t mean him, I meant the gal.”
“Yes, she ain’t bad to look at,” said the first. “That’s her as Oakum was talking about.”
“That it warn’t,” said the other; “’twas the little pale one.”
“Just you two get on with that sail, will you,” said a gruff voice behind them; “and leave the women passengers alone.”
One of the men looked across at the other, and grinned, and they went on with their work, while Sam Oakum walked grumbling forward.
“I wish they wouldn’t have no women aboard,” he muttered half aloud.
“Why not?” said the doctor, who overheard him, and, facing round, Sam found him standing there with the tall young naturalist, whom the men, with their tendency at sea to nickname everyone, had christened Pigeons.
“Why not?” growled Oakum, scowling across at old Rasp, between which two a deep dislike had sprung up. “Because—though someone here as I won’t name will contradict every word I says—they ain’t no good. They sets the men talking about ’em instead of doing their work; they consooms the stores; they causes the ship to be littered with green stuff and fresh meat; and, what with them and invalids, my deck’s always in a mess. Why here’s a cow and chickens, and a goat and ducks, and ’Pollo milking every morning to get some thin blue stuff like scupper washings, and the whole place turned into a farm-yard, and all because of the women. Blame ’em! I wish there warn’t one on the face of the blessed earth.”
“Hear him,” said one of the two sailors who had just spoken; “hear him, Bob,” for they were dragging the sail aft as Oakum spoke. “He was crossed in love when he was green.”
“Women’s right enough at times,” said Bob, a dull heavy fellow, with a dreadful squint, one of those distortions of the eyes which cause the owner to look behind his nose, which in this case was a very thick one. “I’m right sorry for that little one there, though, for she seems mighty bad.”
“Let me introduce one of our protectors to you, Miss Studwick,” said the doctor, stopping by where she sat, book in hand.
John Studwick gave an impatient twist in his chair.
“This is Mr Oakum, the second mate, a gentleman who is a confirmed hater of your sex.”
“No I arn’t,” said Sam gruffly; “I only said as ladies hadn’t no business on board ships, even if they is captain’s daughters. They only get listening by accident to people’s tongues going a deal too fast and free.”
“That’s meant for me, I suppose,” said the doctor, laughing. “Never mind, Oakum, we shall not quarrel. I think you’ll like Oakum, Mr Studwick.”
“Thank you,” said the young man, sharply, “but I only take your medical advice, Mr Meldon. Come, Bessy, it’s chilly here.”
“But the sun is getting warmer every moment, John,” said his sister, gently. “I think you will be all the better for staying on deck.”
“I’m sure you will,” said the doctor, smiling, and passing on.
“I’m sure I shall not,” exclaimed the invalid, pettishly, while his eyes looked jealously and brightly at the young doctor. “Take me below, Bessy. There—I can walk; come along. Mr Oakum is right—men’s tongues do go too freely here.”
Bessy looked at him sadly, and then smiling pleasantly as he raised his eyes, walked with him to the cabin door.
“I hope you will not take any notice of my son’s sharp remarks, doctor,” said Captain Studwick, overtaking the two young men, for he had heard what had passed.
“Not I, indeed, captain,” said the doctor, frankly. “I think I understand what it means, and I should be a poor student of human nature if I visited his petulance upon him. We shall be the best of friends before long, I’ll be bound.”
“I hope so, I’m sure,” said the captain, gloomily, “for it’s quite possible that we may need to hold well together before our trip is over.”
“Do you anticipate any danger, captain?” said Wilson, turning pale.
The captain hesitated, and then said—
“Voyages are always dangerous—that’s all.”
“He means more than he says,” thought the doctor; and he followed the captain with his eyes as he went forward, stopped, and spoke a few words to Hester and Mr Parkley, who were still sitting together, and then joined Dutch, who was, according to his wont, gazing over the bulwark far out to sea.
“Pugh,” he said, holding out his cigar-case, for several of the men were standing about, and he thought it better not to seem to be making a communication, “I’ve got something on my mind, and of all the men on board you are the one I have chosen to make my confidant.”
Dutch’s eyes brightened, and he turned to the captain eagerly.
“What can I do?” he asked.
“Nothing—only listen. Perhaps this is only a mare’s nest; but I’ve had so much to do with men, that I am rather a keen observer.”
“Is there any danger—anything wrong?” exclaimed Dutch, glancing involuntarily towards his wife.
“Danger or no danger,” replied the captain, “life is very uncertain, and if you will excuse me for saying it, I don’t think you would like to die, or see her die,”—he nodded in the direction of the spot where Hester was sitting—“without clasping hands once more.”
Story 1--Chapter XIV.
A Man Overboard.
Dutch turned pale as ashes, and closed his eyes for a few moments; then turning an angry look upon the captain, he exclaimed—
“You have no right to intrude in this way upon my private feelings, Captain Studwick.”
“Not, perhaps, between man and man, Pugh; but I speak as one who would give all he has to recall his poor wife, who died while he was at sea, after parting from her in anger.”
“For heaven’s sake, be silent!” panted Dutch, grasping his arm.
“She looks, poor little woman,” continued the captain, paying no heed to his appeal, “as if a few weeks’ neglect from you will kill her.”
“I cannot, I will not listen to you,” said Dutch, hoarsely, and with the veins in his temples swelling.
“I will say no more about that, then,” said the captain, “but confide to you what I wish to say.”
“Go on.”
“Well, I may be wrong, but I have been trying to think it out ever since we started, and I have said nothing to Parkley because I am so uncertain.”
“I do not understand you,” said Dutch, looking at him curiously.
“I hardly understand myself,” replied the captain; “but I will try to explain. In the first place, you or we have made a deadly enemy in our Cuban acquaintance.”
“Undoubtedly,” exclaimed Dutch.
“One who would do anything to serve his ends—to stop us from getting to the place Oakum professes to know.”
“I am sure he would.”
“He would atop us at any cost.”
“If he could; but we were too quick for him, and he has not stopped us.”
“That’s what troubles me.”
“How troubles you? Why should that cause uneasiness?” said Dutch.
“Because he strikes me as being a man of such diabolical ingenuity that he would have found, if he had wished, some means of circumventing us before we started; and hence, as you know, I have carefully scanned every ship we neared, or steamer that passed us.”
“Yes, I know all that,” said Dutch, growing excited; “but we have been too much for him.”
“I fear not,” said Captain Studwick.
“Then you think we are in danger from him still?”
“I do, and that he would not stop at murder, or sinking the ship, to gain his ends.”
“I believe not,” said Dutch, moodily. “But you have found out something?”
“Not yet.”
“You know of something, then, for certain?”
“Not yet.”
“Speak, man,” exclaimed Dutch, impatiently. “You torture me with your riddles. What is it you think?”
“Don’t speak so loud,” said the captain; “and don’t look round and start when I tell you, but smoke quietly, and seem like me—watching those bonito playing below.”
Dutch nodded.
“Go on,” he said in a low voice.
“I will explain, then,” said the captain. “But first I believe this: we have not been stopped or overtaken by Lauré, because—”
“Because what?”
“We have the danger we shunned here on board.”
In spite of the feelings that had troubled him, the deep fervent love for his wife asserted itself at the words of Captain Studwick, and Dutch Pugh made a step in her direction, as if to be ready to protect her from harm, before he recollected himself, and recalled that there could be no immediate danger.
“What do you mean?” he exclaimed then, eagerly.
“That’s a larger one than I’ve seen yet,” said the captain, pointing with his cigar down into the clear water. “Oakum, ask Mr Jones to get up the grains, and let any of the men who like try to strike a few of the fish.”
“Ay, ay, sir,” exclaimed Oakum.
“Didn’t I warn you to be quiet?” said the captain. “Our safety and success depend on keeping our enemy in ignorance that we suspect him.”
“I beg pardon,” said Dutch, taking his double-glass from its case, adjusting it, and watching the fish play about; by its help seeing them swimming together, rising, diving, and chasing one another through the water, which was of all shades, from the faintest aquamarine and pale turquoise to the richest, deepest sapphire blue. “I am impulsive; but I will control myself. Go on. Whom do you suspect?”
“That Cuban, of course.”
“But he is two thousand miles away.”
“Possibly, but his influence is with us.”
“What do you think, then?”
“There’s a much finer one still,” cried the captain, pointing to an albicore, which kept pace exactly with the schooner, as she careened over to the soft breeze and surged through the sparkling water. “No one.”
“Yes, I see him,” said Dutch, aloud. “But you think that Lauré has emissaries on board?”
“May be yes, may be no. Lend me your glass, Mr Pugh. Thanks.”
“Pray be a little more explicit. What do you think, then?”
“I hope they will strike a few of these fellows,” said the captain, returning the glass. “I can get on better without it, thank you. Look here, Pugh,” he said, in a lower tone, “I am all suspicion, and no certainty. One thing is certain—those treasures have an existence; the Cuban’s acts prove that, and he will never let us get the spoil if he can prevent it. The colours of those fish are magnificent,” he said, aloud, as the mulatto limped by. “The ladies ought to come and look at them. Every act of that man,” he continued, “that I saw, proved him to be a fellow of marvellous resource and ingenuity.”
“Yes,” said Dutch, nodding, with his eyes to the binocular.
“And unscrupulous to a degree.”
Dutch nodded again.
“If the Wave was a steamer, instead of a fast three-masted schooner, it’s my impression that we should have gone to the bottom before now.”
“How? Why?”
“He would have had a few sham lumps of coal conveyed into the bunkers—hollow pieces of cast iron, full of powder or dynamite; one or two would have been thrown into the furnace in firing, and the poor vessel would have had a hole blown in her, and gone to the bottom before we knew what was the matter.”
“Diabolical!” exclaimed Dutch, below his breath.
“Oh, here is the grains,” said the captain, as Oakum came along with an implement something like an eel spear, or the trident Neptune is represented as carrying, except that in this case, instead of three, it was furnished with five sharp barbed teeth, and a thin, strong cord was attached to the middle of the shaft. “Would you like to try?” he continued, turning to Tonio, who stood close at hand.
“Yes, I’ll try,” said the mulatto, in a guttural voice.
“Let him have the grains, Oakum,” said the captain, to the great disappointment of several of the men. “These fellows are, some of them, very clever this way.”
The mulatto eagerly took the spear, fastened the cord around his wrist, and, followed by several of the men, went forward to the bowsprit, climbed out, and, descending, stood bare-footed on one of the stays, bending down with the weapon poised ready to dart it at the first likely fish that came within range.
“I am all impatient to hear more,” said Dutch, still watching the fish that played about in the blue water.
“And I am all impatient to find out more,” said the captain; “but we must be patient.”
“Then you know nothing?”
“Nothing whatever. I only feel sure that the Cuban is at work, trying to checkmate us; and, of course, I suspect. Now, I want your help.”
“Of course,” replied Dutch, both speaking more freely, for the attention of all was taken up now with the scene being enacted in the bows of the swift craft. “I feel sure that you must be right; but I have had so much to think of that these things did not trouble me. He must have started, and will get there before us.”
“I don’t think that possible,” said the captain, “but I have thought so.”
“But suppose that he has some of his men on board, scoundrels in his own pay.”
“That is far more likely,” said the captain; “and that is why I am so careful.”
“Of course, that must be it,” exclaimed Dutch. “The villain! He bribed your crew to desert, and has supplied others—his own miscreants.”
“That is one thing I suspect.”
“That last party there—the mulatto and the black.”
“That is the most natural supposition at the first blush; but the men are all strangers, and for this very reason I am half disposed to think it was the first lot. One is so disposed to judge wrongly.”
“You are right,” said Dutch, thoughtfully, “and we have no common plotter to deal with. You remember the man who wanted to hide an important letter from the French spies?”
“No,” said the captain, watching him intently. “What did he do?”
“He placed the letter somewhere so as they should not find it, knowing full well that they would come and ransack his chambers as soon as his back was turned.”
“Well,” said the captain, impatiently.
“Well, the spies of the police came; and in his absence searched the place in every direction, even trying the legs of the chairs and tables to see if the document was rolled up and plugged in one of them; but they gave up in despair, finding nothing.”
“Where was it hidden, then,” said the captain.
“It was not hidden at all,” said Dutch, smiling. “The owner came back at last, after having been waylaid and searched, even to the linings of his clothes; and then, feeling secure, took the letter from where he had placed it, the French police feeling that it must be in other hands.”
“But where was it?” said the captain again.
“Why, where he left it: in a common envelope, plain for everybody to see, just stuck half behind the looking-glass over the mantel-piece, and had probably been in the searchers’ hands half-a-dozen times.”
“That is just the trick that the Cuban will try with us,” exclaimed the captain.
“I think so,” said Dutch; “otherwise one might look upon that mulatto as a suspicious character.”
“Yes, of course,” replied the captain. “I was ready to pitch upon him at first, but I changed my mind, and am more disposed to suspect those two quiet English fellows, Lennie and Rolls, the men Oakum was talking to some time back.”
“I know,” said Dutch. “One of them is a dark fellow, with an outrageous cast in his eye.”
“In both his eyes, you mean,” said the captain. “That is Rolls. The other fellow seems as thick-headed and stupid as an ox. He has a perpetual grin on his face, and looks simplicity itself.”
“I know the men,” said Dutch. “But now what do you propose to do?”
“Nothing but wait. I had thought of putting the others on their guard; but by doing so I might defeat my own ends. Perhaps, after all, I am wrong, and we shall never hear more of Master Lauré, except, if we are successful, he may attack you by law for a share.”
“But you could take precautions,” exclaimed Dutch, who again glanced involuntarily at his wife, who sat there watching him in a sad appealing way that went to his heart.
“Every precaution with respect to the arms, which I always keep under lock and key. And now, what I want you to do is to keep about at all times, night or day, as the chance may serve, picking up such facts as you come across, and communicating them to me; while, for my part, I shall keep every possible stitch of canvas set, and reach the place as soon as I can.”
“For it may turn out a false alarm,” said Dutch.
“I trust it may; but I feel sure it will not,” replied the captain.
“I’m afraid I must agree with you,” said Dutch. “Depend upon it, there is some deeply-laid plot ready to be sprung upon us. However, forewarned—”
“Man overboard! Man overboard!” shouted half-a-dozen voices in chorus; and directly after, Mr Jones, the mate, was heard to cry hoarsely to the man at the wheel—
“Hard down, my lad, hard down; steady, my lads. Quick to those braces—’bout ship.”
“Here, four of you lower down this boat,” cried the captain, as excitedly as the rest, for the fact was plain enough for comprehension. Tonio, the mulatto, had been darting his spear with more or less success at the bonito, and had at last sent it down with such precision in the back of a large fish that he had buried it far beyond the barbs, when his prey made a tremendous rush, gave the cord a violent jerk, and, being attached to the thrower’s wrist, it literally snatched him from his precarious position, and, in spite of his being a good swimmer, he was rapidly being drowned by the frantic efforts of the fish.
Dutch saw in an instant that long before the boat could be lowered the man would be exhausted, unless he was freed from the cord that jerked at his wrist as he swam, and by means of which he was dragged again and again beneath the water. There was no time for thought: a fellow-creature was in deadly peril, and he felt that he could give help, so, throwing off the loose jacket he wore, and kicking off his shoes, he took out and opened his knife, and climbed on the bulwarks. As he did so, he caught a glimpse of Hester tottering with outspread arms towards him, and heard her wail his name, but as he did so he was leaping from the schooner’s side to plunge deep down in the bright water, sending the shoal of bonito flying in all directions as his body formed a curve, and he came up twenty feet from where he had dipped, and then began swimming lustily towards the drowning man.
A loud cheer saluted him as he turned on his side and swam hard, as the preparations for lowering the boat went on, with the schooner becoming each instant more distant, while it soon became evident with him that unless something unforeseen occurred the mulatto must be drowned; for, in spite of all Dutch’s efforts, the fish took him farther and farther away, the man’s struggles, as he rose on the long swell of the Atlantic, growing evidently feebler and feebler, till in its frantic dread and pain the fish suddenly turned, making back for where Dutch, with long slow strokes, urged himself rapidly through the water.
He hardly knew how it happened, for as he made a dash to cut off the pain-maddened creature, it leaped over him, dived down, and, to his horror, Dutch found that the rope was over his body, and that he was being towed rapidly down into the awful depths of the ocean. The light above him seemed to be dimmed, and he half lost consciousness. Then, with one vigorous application of the knife, he was free, and a few kicks brought him breathless to the surface, where, as he panted, he paddled about looking for the mulatto, and had almost given him up when something rose up slowly to the surface, and one hand appeared clutching vainly at the air.
Half-a-dozen strokes took Dutch to his side, and, catching the drowning man’s wrist, he turned him over, and tried to get behind him. But he was not quick enough, for, in the strong desire for life, the mulatto, as soon as he was touched, clasped the swimmer with arms and legs, completely crippling him, and, after a brief struggle, they sank together.
As they rose once more, Dutch saw that the boat was quite two hundred yards away, and that his case was hopeless unless he took some high-handed manner of saving himself; so, turning as well as he could, he struck the drowning man a tremendous blow upon the temple with his doubled fist, stunning him effectually; his clasp loosened, and, shaking himself free, Dutch now turned him on his back, floating by his side as he sustained him, till, with a loud hurrah, echoed from the schooner, which was now coming down upon them hand-over-hand, the pair were dragged into the boat, and soon after lay in safety upon their vessel’s deck.
The first upon whom Dutch’s eyes fell was his wife, kneeling by his side; and, as their eyes met, she took his hand, trembling, and raised it to her lips, those quivering lips seeming inaudibly to say—
“Don’t repulse me. I love you so dearly, and so well.”
The next moment Bessy was leading her away, and, after swallowing a glass of stimulant handed to him by the doctor, Dutch rose, went below and changed, returning, little the worse for his immersion, to find that the doctor had succeeded in restoring the mulatto to consciousness, while Dutch himself was received with a hearty cheer.