Story 1--Chapter XXV.
’Pollo’s Report.
Oakum was not a man to shout for help, but to act, and act he did on the instant by turning sharply round, and seizing his assailant by the throat. He lowered his hands, though, in a moment, for a thick voice whispered—
“Don’t make ’tupid bobbery, Mass’ Sam Oakum, sah, or you wake de oder gentlemen.”
“What’s up, ’Pollo?” said Oakum, in the same low tone, for he was awake now to the fact that something was wrong. “Injins?”
“No, sah, I tink not; but you come out here, sah, where de oder gentleman not hear, and I tell you.”
Oakum squabbled with ’Pollo every day, but they were very old shipmates, and the rough sailor had the most abundant confidence in the black, so he drew on his trousers, and cautiously followed him to the foot of the steps, where ’Pollo sat down, and Oakum knelt by his side.
“Now, then, what’s up?” growled Oakum.
“I tell you, sah, reckly, but first must ’fess somefin to you.”
“Go ahead then, my hearty,” was the reply.
“Well, sah, while I busy all de mornin’ in my galley, I see de beauful lump of silber brought up ober and ober again, and I see Mass’ Jone and noder sailor busy knock off de shell and tuff, and frow him all of a heap.”
“Yes, and there it lies now on deck,” said Sam, “instead of being shyed overboard. What o’ that?”
“Well, sah, no able to sleep ’cause of dat, and so I get out of my hammock and creep all soft like on deck.”
“What, did you get some of the bits o’ shell in your blanket.”
“No, sah, no,” chuckled ’Pollo. “You know me, Mass’ Sam Oakum, sah, we berry ole friend, and go froo deal ob trouble togedder.”
“Well, yes, ’Pollo, old man, we have had a hardship or two, but what o’ that?”
“Why, sah, I ’fess eberything to you, sah, and tell you all.”
“Heave ahead, then.”
“Well, sah, I no tink it berry wrong, sah, cause there such a debble ob a lot ob silber, but while I watch Mass’ Jone and de sailor chip, chip, chip at de shell to knock ’em off I see dem knock little bit ob silber too some time, and one time dey fro lump of shell down. I quite sure got big piece of silber inside.”
“And you’ve been up on deck to get hold of it, eh?”
“Yes, Mass’ Oakum, sah, dat’s him.”
“Hand over, and let’s feel the weight on it, ’Pollo, old man, only you needn’t do that, my lad. We found the spot for the govnors, and they’ll come down hansome.”
“Yes, Mass’ Oakum, sah, but I tink it great pity waste anyting, eben bit ob fat, so no like see bit ob silber fro overboard.”
“Where’s the stuff; ’Pollo?”
“I no got um, sah, dat’s why I came to ask you.”
“But is it so heavy as all that, ’Pollo?”
“No, sah, you no understand. I come on deck, find de silber, and I find someting else.”
“What’s that?” said Oakum sleepily.
“I find piece ob de crew, sah, all sit togedder in a corner, hatchin’ mutiny.”
“What?” exclaimed Oakum, whom these words galvanised into an excited state.
“Hatch de mutiny, sah.”
“I’ve good as expected as much,” exclaimed Oakum, giving his leg a slap. “Heave out, and let’s rouse the skipper. The beggars mean treachery.”
“We better go softly then, Mass’ Oakum, sah, or we get knife in de ribs.”
“Right, ’Pollo,” said Oakum; “let’s investigate first and see.”
Creeping softly up the ladder he just raised his head above the coamings of the hatchway, and peered cautiously round, but seeing nothing he drew himself the whole way out, and lay down on deck, ’Pollo following him on the instant.
“Well?” whispered Oakum, “what’s their bearings?”
’Pollo, for answer, crawled away into the darkness, and returned at the end of a couple of minutes to announce that they were all gone.
“Look here, Master ’Pollo,” growled Oakum in a whisper; “if you’ve woke me out of a fine sleep to humbug me, you and I will have a row.”
“I quite suah, sah, dat free sailor fellow set under de bulwark, sah, hatch mutiny.”
“Come and have a look round,” said the old fellow, and together they went softly to the man who had the watch forward, to find that he had heard nothing, though a sharper investigator than Oakum would have come to the conclusion that the fellow had been fast asleep.
A similar result followed the journey aft, when with a growl Oakum walked straight back to the hatchway, where he turned round.
“Lookye here, ’Pollo, old man, you get to your hammock and have a good night’s rest, or you’ll be rolling into the fire fast asleep to-morrow, and burning those beautiful curls of yourn. And lookye here, too, my lad, you leave that there silver rubbish alone, and trust to what the skippers and the govnors give you for reward. Good-night.”
“Dah!” cried ’Pollo, sulkily, “I don’t care who come and take de ship now. I no say word about more. Only get laugh at;” and muttering volubly to himself, he crept back to his hammock, and the next minute he was lying fast asleep with his mouth open.
The morning broke bright and beautiful, with the golden sunshine glinting through the tall columns of the palm-trees ashore, and lighting up the dark vistas of the jungle in the most wonderful manner; but the thoughts of all on board were directed not to the golden sunshine, save that it was available for the manner in which it lit up the depths of the clear sea; and all that day in steady turns Dutch, Mr Parkley, and Rasp went down, working away clearing out the sand, and sending up the iron buckets laden with silver.
Careful probing with the iron rod had shown them that the space in which the treasure lay was not great, only spread over a portion of the lower part of the old galleon of about twelve feet by sixteen; everywhere else the rod would penetrate to any depth, save where it came in contact with the old hardened ribs of the ship, or portions of its keel, and they gave forth to the touch such unmistakable signs of what the opposing material was that the adventurers were quite content.
A receptacle had been prepared for the treasure in the hold, and the way to this was down the cabin stairs, strong bulkheads cutting this off from the other portions of the vessel; and down here continuously, after the shelly concretions, where they existed, had been knocked off, was carried bucket after bucket of ingots, which Mr Jones and Oakum stacked as regularly as they would lie, while the captain superintended and kept watch on deck.
The men worked admirably: their wonder at the richness of the find passing away as the silver became common to their sight, for it was shot out of the buckets on to the deck, hammered even, and thrown about as if it was so much stone.
There were two or three alarms of sharks, but an occasional cartridge fired under water at a distance from the ship had the desired effect of scaring the monsters away.
Rasp worked even harder than Dutch, giving as his reason that they ought to make hay while the sun shone; and certainly he made a goodly addition to the silver stack, while Mr Parkley was not far behind his partner. The doctor, Mr Wilson, and even John Studwick helped, by cleaning the ingots as they were raised by the sailors in the buckets, and emptied out on deck, while Bessy Studwick, Hester, and ’Pollo aided by being always ready with refreshments as they were needed, and besides kept a lookout.
For it was determined to make the best use they could of the daylight, and consequently their meals were snatched in the little intervals of work. Even the men forbore to grumble at being kept without their regular food, for there was a novelty in their task.
The sand caused a great deal of trouble to the divers, but this was steadily mastered, and when at sunset the task was set aside for the night, and, wearied out, the adventurers sat down to the repast ’Pollo had prepared and the steward set out, the question was asked in a whisper, what was the value of the treasure recovered. Mr Parkley, who had been below, could only say—
“Many thousands.”
Story 1--Chapter XXVI.
A Good Resolution.
The next day and the next and the next passed rapidly in the same toil; and work, rest, and refreshment were all that were thought of. Even Dutch had been seized now by the thirst for wealth, and, hardly looking at Hester, he toiled on at his task, while she, pale and rigid, kept watch over him, never once gaining confidence as she saw his many descents, but always tortured by the horror of that first day.
To her great relief, though, Lauré had hardly noticed her, and there seemed to be an unspoken truce existing between them. She could see that he was one of the most industrious of the workers, and she shuddered as she felt why this was, and knew that some terrible catastrophe might ere now have taken place on the schooner, only that Lauré wanted the divers to do their work to the full before he asserted himself.
And yet she dared not speak, feeling that to utter a warning would be to sign her husband’s death-warrant, while he, giving no heed to, perhaps not crediting, her sufferings, passed her by at times without a look.
But a change was rapidly approaching, and it took place so suddenly as almost to surprise Hester herself.
The only thing that had disturbed the harmony of the past week had been the bitter opposition of John Studwick to the advances made by the young doctor. So far from the presence of a medical man on board being of advantage to the invalid, it had served to irritate and annoy him, and more than once he had angrily turned his back and drawn his sister away with the petty jealousy of a child more than a man, all which the doctor had taken in quite good part, while Bessy had more than one hearty cry to herself, as she called it.
Hester and she were like sisters now, and in consequence a coolness existed towards Dutch, who saw nothing, however, but, miser-like, gloated over the enormous wealth he was helping to pile up for himself and partner.
It was on the ninth day of the diving that, all elate, and congratulating themselves on the calm and delightful weather that had attended their efforts, the task began once more. The sand had been well mastered, and great half-rotten, water-hardened pieces of timber had been removed, and the silver was sent up, from the ease with which it was obtained, at a greater rate than ever.
Dutch had been down five times, and he was now down for the sixth, having succeeded Mr Parkley, and wading to the hole that had been made, after filling the bucket with some difficulty, the silver having now become scarce, he took his bar and tried to remove a piece of blackened wood that showed plainly in the mid-day sun.
It seemed quite fast, but a good wrench moved it, and, lifting it with ease, Dutch carried it a few paces and thrust it between two of the ribs behind him.
A man shut up in a diver’s helmet and suit is not in a condition to feel much elation, but Dutch’s heart beat rapidly as he resumed and stooped to gaze down at what he had found. There was no mistake, though. The hold of the wreck had been cleared from side to side, and there was evidently no more silver—in fact, as far as it was concerned, the treasure was won. He tried the iron probe to find sand or wood—sand or wood, forward or aft, while, of course, the possibility of anything being found to right or left was bounded by the old ribs which now stood out clear to the keel.
But here, aft of the silver treasure, and separated originally, no doubt, by a strong timber partition, one of the timbers of which Dutch had wrenched away, dull red and glistening, totally free from shelly concretion, but in places bound together by a fine sand, lay, as he cleared away the covering from the surface, and plainly marked out by the black wood that surrounded it on three sides, forming a great chest-like place about four feet by six, but whose sides, of black rotten timber, were ten inches thick, what was evidently of greater value than the mass of silver they had obtained.
For there before him lay neatly packed, as they had been by busy hands at least two hundred and fifty years before, hundreds upon hundreds of little rough ingots of gold. Not a bar was displaced, for the massive framework in which they had been stowed, though rotten, had not given way like what had probably surrounded the silver, which lay tossed about at random.
“Wealth, wealth, rich gold,” muttered Dutch, as he signalled for more air; and then, looking more closely at his find, he could see by sweeping away the sand that slowly trickled back, as if eager to cover the treasure it had held secret so long, that the gold had not been packed as he had supposed, but had evidently been in little wooden boxes, which had rotted quite away, the places of the wood being filled up by sand, which lay in rectangular lines.
“The silver has all been saved without doubt,” said Dutch to himself as he gazed at his find, and thought of the delight with which the news would be received by his partner. Then he turned to get the bucket and fill it, wishing himself on deck when it arrived there to watch the astonishment of those who emptied it.
As he moved he had again to signal for more air, and looking down he saw the sand slowly trickling back over the gold, so that in a very few moments it would have been covered.
He picked up the shovel, meaning to throw the sand in that part more effectually away, when once more the difficulty of breathing attacked him.
He signalled for more air, but no more came, neither to his next signal; and feeling that something must be wrong with the apparatus, he was already on his way to the steps, when he received a signal to come up; and on reaching the surface, with the air becoming each moment more deficient, he was quickly helped on board and relieved of his helmet.
“I couldn’t help it, Mr Dutch,” exclaimed Rasp, “the leather’s giving way on the piston, and we must have a good repair.”
“But it’s held out just long enough,” said Mr Parkley, “for Rasp tells me we’ve got to the end, and he only just left you a little of the silver to send up.”
“Yea, Mr Pug, I tried all round, but there was nothing but wood and sand—wood and sand everywhere. ’Cept what you’ve sent up, I say there wasn’t a bit more silver left.”
“Why didn’t you say so before I went down?” said Dutch.
“Because I wanted to hear what you thought, and let you judge for yourself,” growled Rasp, handling a screw-hammer.
As they spoke, the men who had been pumping and hauling gathered round, evidently eager to hear what was said, and this made Dutch alter the words he was about to utter.
“Rasp is right,” he said, “I have sent up the last of the silver.”
“And have you tried well round with the rod?”
“Everywhere,” said Dutch, “and touched the ship’s timbers right down into the sand. There isn’t another bar of silver, I should say.”
“Well,” said Mr Parkley, “man’s never satisfied. I was quite ready to get more. There, my lads, we’ll clean up our apparatus.”
“Yes,” said the captain, “and clear the decks; they want it badly enough. You’ve worked well, my lads, and you shall have a bit of a feast for this. ’Pollo shall prepare you a supper, and we’ll drink success to our next venture.”
The men gave a bit of a cheer, but on the whole they looked rather disappointed, and Dutch, he hardly knew why, held his peace about the gold. One thing was evident: nothing could be done to get it on deck till the worn valve of the air-pump had been repaired, and this Rasp declared would take him all the afternoon, for he would have to apply new leathers and india-rubber.
So the diving suits were hung up to dry, the helmets, polished dry and clean, and placed upon their stands. Mr Parkley and the doctor, who had looked upon this part as more in his province—Mr Parkley said because it helped to destroy life—had coiled up the wires, emptied the battery, and placed the dynamite in safety, and the rough shelly matter was thrown over the side, while Dutch, who had still kept his discovery to himself, was down below close to the end of the wind-sail—that canvas funnel that took down a constant current of fresh air—smoking a cigar with Mr Wilson, the naturalist, who was chatting away about his birds, and his determination to have another run or two on shore to shoot, asking his companion to accompany him.
“It would do the ladies so much good, too, I’m sure,” said Mr Wilson; “and really, Mr Pugh, I never dare speak to Miss Studwick now,” he added with a sigh, “for if I do, her brother looks daggers at me, and if I mention Mrs Pugh, you look just as cross.”
Dutch had been saying “Yes” and “No” in amusing manner, hardly hearing what his companion said, but the mention of his wife’s name made him start angrily round and glare at the speaker.
“There, that’s just how Mr Studwick, junior, looks at me,” said the naturalist simply. “A regular jealous, fierce look. I wish you would not treat me so, Mr Pugh,” he continued earnestly, and with a pleading look in his weak, lamblike face, “for I like you, I do, indeed. I always have liked you, Mr Pugh, and how you can fancy I have dishonourable ideas about Mrs Pugh I can’t think. It shocks me, Mr Pugh, it does, indeed.”
“My dear fellow,” said Dutch, smiling, half in amusement, half in contempt, “I never did think any such thing.”
“Then why do you look at me so?” continued Wilson, mildly. “You see,” he said, with gathering enthusiasm, “I love Miss Studwick very dearly, but I seem to have no hope whatever. But why are you so angry?”
“There, there, there, don’t talk about it,” said Dutch, shaking the naturalist’s hand. “These are matters one don’t like to talk about.”
“Yes, yes, of course,” said Wilson, looking at him wistfully. “But you won’t mention what I said.”
“As to your love confidences,” said Dutch smiling, “they are safe with me; but look here, Wilson, you are better as you are—better as you are.”
“You think so, perhaps,” said the young man; “but I do not. You are angry with Mrs Pugh for something: that is all. She is very pretty, but perhaps she is a little imprudent,” he added simply.
“What do you mean?” exclaimed Dutch angrily.
“Don’t be cross with me, Mr Pugh. Perhaps I am wrong.”
“Speak! What do you mean?” exclaimed Dutch, panting.
“I only thought she ought to be more particular, perhaps, as a lady, and not speak to the dark mulatto sailor.”
“Have—have you seen her speaking to—to that man?” said Dutch, with his breath coming thick and short.
“Yes, I did last night,” said Wilson; “but I did not mention it to anyone else, and of course she was only doing it out of kindness, for she is very amiable.”
“When—when was it?” panted Dutch, whose face flushed with shame and anger that he should be stooping to ask such questions.
“Just after dark, when you diving people were having your meal below. They parted, though, directly.”
“Thanks; say no more about this,” said Dutch, more calmly. “Perhaps it looks a little imprudent, but, as you say, she is so amiable and kind to the men that her actions are easily misconstrued.”
Dutch rose to go on deck, for the air in the cabin seemed to stifle him, but Wilson arrested his steps.
“But you will come if we have a shooting expedition, Mr Pugh?” he exclaimed. “You have not been ashore yet, but spending your time over this dreadful treasure-hunting, when the treasures ashore are a thousand times more beautiful.”
“I will see—perhaps—I cannot say,” replied Dutch; and he stumbled on deck to stand watching Rasp, who was busy over the air-pump, which he had taken all to pieces, but as it was close upon dusk he was collecting the various screws and placing them loosely in their proper holes before covering all over with a tarpaulin to keep off the heavy night dew that hung in drops each morning from every rail.
The words of Wilson, the simple-hearted naturalist, had so troubled Dutch that his mind was once more in a whirl. Till then he had been gradually getting into a calm, resigned state, and accepting the inevitable; but now to hear such remarks as these about his wife’s conduct was simply maddening him, and as he went and leaned over the side, gazing down into the pure water where the golden treasure lay, it was forgotten mostly in the trouble of his heart, and he made up his mind that he would see Hester and demand some full explanation of her conduct, and so end this terrible suspense.
“I will know,” he muttered; and as he rose he felt surprised at the lapse of time, for the short tropic twilight had given place to intense darkness while he had been brooding over his troubles, and now it occurred to him that he had not told Mr Parkley about the gold.
“I’ll see him now,” he said; and he was turning to go to the cabin stairs when the low musical voice of his wife fell upon his ear, and though the darkness was so great that he could not see her he was aware that she was close at hand in conversation with some one whose voice seemed familiar.
He could not make out a word, but it was evident that whoever was speaking to Hester was addressing her in a low, passionate tone, while her replies were almost inaudible.
Who was it? Not the mulatto: his peculiar, harsh, grating voice was too familiar. This was the voice of some one who made his nerves thrill with rage and indescribable emotion; and yet in his confusion and excitement he could not make out who it could be.
“I cannot play the spy like this,” said Dutch to himself, and, raging as he was with curiosity and mortification, he walked away; but his agony was unbearable, and, turning back, he approached the spot once more, to hear a half-stifled cry for help; then there was the noise of a slight struggle, and he darted forward to strike himself against the foremast and stagger back half-stunned, and lean against the side to collect his scattered thoughts.
For his forehead had come violently into collision with the mast, and for a few minutes memory forsook her seat, and a strange sense of sickness accompanied the oblivion.
This soon passed off, though, and now, thoroughly roused, Dutch retraced his steps, going with outstretched hands to the spot whence the voices had seemed to proceed, to find all perfectly still.
“But she was here,” he muttered moodily; and recalling his determination to insist upon a full explanation, Dutch walked straight to the cabin occupied by Bessy Studwick and his wife, and stood listening for a few moments before he knocked.
He could hear voices behind him, where it was evident that the captain and his friends were gathered, and upon listening more attentively he learned what he wished to know, but was never in doubt about—namely, the presence of Hester in the little cabin.
She was there, though, for he heard some one talking in a low tone, and that there was a low sob.
He waited no longer but knocked.
There was no reply.
He knocked again, and there was a rustling sound within which made his heart beat heavily, the blood rushed to his eyes, and a strange swimming affected his brain, as the horrible suspicion crossed his mind that it was not Bessy Studwick’s voice he had heard, but the same that he had listened to on deck.
Fighting against the dizzy sensation, and striving to become calm, he raised his hands and stood in the attitude of one about to hurl himself against the door and burst it from its fastenings; but something seemed to restrain him, and he knocked again, and this time plainly enough, he heard Hester’s voice in an excited whisper say,—
“He is there! pray, pray, don’t open the door.”
It never occurred to Dutch that his wife could not know that it was he who knocked, for the hard jealousy that he had taken to his heart suggested and thought but evil of the woman he had sworn to love and protect. It was not Bessy Studwick, then, who was with her, and they dared not open the door. He had given up before, and sought no revenge; this time he would have it if he died.
“Open this door,” he said in a low deep whisper, full of the rage he felt, for in his mad cunning he told himself that if he raised his voice or broke in the door, he would alarm the occupants of the other cabin.
There was a dead silence for a few moments, and he was about to make a fresh demand as his hands clenched, and the veins in his forehead stood out throbbing from the excess of his wild emotion.
“Will you open this door?” he hissed again savagely, with his lips close to the panel.
“No,” exclaimed a firm voice. “Make the slightest attempt to enter again, and I will alarm the ship.”
Dutch Pugh’s hands dropped to his side and a sigh like a groan burst from his lips as he staggered away on deck, and going to the side rested his aching head upon the rail.
“Am I mad?” he said to himself. “That was Bessy Studwick. Could it have been her I heard talking here on deck? No, that was impossible, for there was the struggle. Oh! Hester, Hester, my darling, forgive me if I am judging you wrongfully; I’d give my life to believe you true, and yet again to-night I am so ready to accuse you in my heart.
“It is no use, I will not lead this life of hell upon earth: she must—she shall explain her conduct. There was some reason more than I know for her coming on board here. Her conversations with that mulatto. That meeting to-night. Ha! is it possible? Yes! I have it at last: Studwick was right: Lauré’s influence still with us. Bah! I believe I am half-mad,” he said, with a contemptuous ejaculation. “I will see her in the morning, and this trouble shall be cleared away.”
As he spoke he went down to the cabin he shared with the doctor, feeling lighter of heart for the resolution he had made, and telling himself that half his trouble might have been saved had he spoken to his wife. “She might even have come out of the trial unscathed,” he said, with a strong feeling of elation, and worn out mentally and bodily he threw himself half dressed into his berth, after opening the little window, for the heat was stifling.
“A good resolution at last,” muttered Dutch as he laid his head upon his pillow, and as he dropped off to sleep listening to the lapping of the water against the schooner’s side, the sound seemed to form itself into a repetition of the words—“Too late, too late, too late,” until he fell into a heavy sleep.
Story 1--Chapter XXVII.
Hester’s Trials.
That evening, for the second time in obedience to a fierce demand from Lauré, Hester Pugh crept timidly on deck as soon as it was dark, and then repenting of her venture she was about to retreat when she felt a grasp like steel clasp her wrist, and in a low voice that made her shudder Lauré began to upbraid her, speaking passionately of his love, and telling her that it was his wish to win her by his tenderness, and not by force, while she in turn told him of his cruelties, and piteously pleaded for mercy.
“Yes,” he said at last, “the same mercy that you have had on me,” and flinging his arms round her he drew her shuddering form tightly to his breast.
“Make a sound,” he hissed in her ear, “and you slay Dutch Pugh, perhaps all here on board except my party. Be silent and you shall be my happy, loving wife, a princess in wealth and station.”
Maddened by her position, Hester struggled fiercely and lettered a stifled cry for help, and at the same moment almost there came the sound of approaching feet, followed by the sound of a blow; and half fainting, she found herself loosened from the arms that held her, and ran, how she never knew, to her cabin, to fall exhausted into Bessy Studwick’s arms.
“Lock the door, lock the door!” she panted, clinging tightly to her friend. “Oh Bessy, Bessy, if I could but die.”
Bessy locked the door, and returned wondering to Hester’s side.
“Hester, darling, your husband must be a perfect monster,” she cried, taking the sobbing woman in her arms.
“No, no, no,” wailed Hester, “he is all that is good and noble and true, but he thinks me wicked.”
“How dare he treat you like this, if he does!” cried Bessy, indignantly, as she smoothed Hester’s dishevelled hair.
“No, no, no, it was not he,” panted Hester.
“Not he?” exclaimed Bessy. “Do you mean to tell me that you have been on deck to meet some one else?”
“Yes, yes, and I am afraid; oh, I am afraid,” whispered Hester, with a shudder, as she clung more closely to her friend.
“Hester Pugh,” said Bessy, gravely; and her voice sounded cold and strange. “You must explain. I cannot wonder at poor Dutch’s conduct if you act like this.”
“Bessy!” wailed Hester, clinging convulsively to her, “don’t speak like that. Don’t you turn from me too. I am innocent; I am innocent. Oh that I were dead—that I were dead!”
“Hush, hush, hush,” whispered Bessy, trying to soothe her, for she was alarmed at the violence of her companion’s grief. “Tell me all about it, Hester. Am I not worthy of your confidence?”
“Oh, yes, yes, yes,” sobbed Hester, “but I dare not—I dare not tell you.”
“Dare not, Hester?”
“No, no, no,” she moaned. “Hush! listen! he is there. Bessy,” she whispered, clinging to her, “kill me if you will, but do not let him touch me again.”
As she whispered this appeal there came Dutch’s summons at the door, repeated again, with at last Bessy’s stern reply, and then silence.
“He is gone,” said Bessy at last, her own heart beating furiously with emotion.
“No, no, he is waiting,” wailed Hester, clinging to her; “he is always watching me.”
“Hester,” said Bessy, sternly, “who is that man?”
“I dare not tell you,” whispered Hester, with a shudder.
“As an old friend of your husband, I insist upon your telling me. This is cowardly weakness.”
“Yes, yes, I know,” wailed Hester, in her helpless misery; “but for his sake, I dare not tell you.”
“And you have not told your husband?”
“No.”
“Has he asked you?”
“Yes—yes,” sobbed Hester. “Oh, if I could but die!”
“Shame on you,” said Bessy. “Hester, I loved your husband very dearly once, and thought it all past now; and I have tried to love you for his sake. I will not be a partner in this mystery. To-morrow morning he shall hear all I know.”
“No, no, no,” cried Hester, in affright. “You must not tell. For heaven’s sake do not speak a word. Perhaps help may come.”
“I shall tell him,” said Bessy firmly.
“You do not know what you say,” wailed Hester, growing more pallid by the faint light of the lamp.
“I know a true honest man is being deceived, and that some scoundrel has frightened his weak young wife into silence, and—”
She said no more, for Hester rose horror-stricken and threw herself upon her knees, imploring her silence, and then, utterly overcome by her emotion, fainted dead away.
So long-continued was the swoon that Bessy was about to summon assistance when there was a faint sigh, and she revived.
“I was just going to send for Mr Meldon,” said Bessy, kindly, as she kissed her.
“That is not as you kissed me to-day, Bessy,” said Hester, sadly. “I would tell you gladly—all—all, if I only dared.”
She hid her face shudderingly, and then, clinging tightly to Bessy, they remained silent for what must have been quite a couple of hours, when Bessy, who had been dozing off to sleep, suddenly started up to find Hester awake and standing up in a listening attitude.
“What is it?” said Bessy, in alarm. “Hush! do you not hear?” whispered Hester, hoarsely. “He is maddened and has turned upon them. Oh Dutch, my husband! God—protect—”
She said no more, but stood with white face and starting eyes, listening, for at that moment there was the sound of struggling overhead, a hoarse shriek as of a man in mortal agony, a heavy fall—a rustling noise; and then, just by the little round window of their cabin, a heavy splash.
Story 1--Chapter XXVIII.
A Race for Life.
That had been a tremendously hot day, but in the excitement of the silver-seeking the weather had been unnoticed; but as the night came on it seemed almost suffocating to those who were not moved by such passionate emotions as Dutch Pugh and his wife.
Sam Oakum had been till quite late standing chewing his tobacco, as he looked over the side watching the golden green water that heaved gently against the stern of the vessel, for, moored as she was, she did not swing with the tide, and after a time he went and joined ’Pollo, whose galley was, after all, no hotter than the rest of the ship.
From where they sat talking in a low voice, the encounter between Lauré and Hester had not been heard, and when from time to time Oakum thrust out his head and took a look round to see the faint glow from the cabin skylight, all was as still as death, and he drew his head in again and went on talking.
“Don’t gawp like that, ’Pollo,” said Oakum at last, as his companion yawned in a fashion that was quite shark-like.
“I berry sleep and tired, Mass’ Oakum, sah; I had berry hot day.”
“There, I’ll soon wake you up, my lad.”
“No, sah, I hope you do nuffum ob de sort, for I want go asleep.”
Oakum chuckled softly to himself, and then, just as ’Pollo was in the midst of a second yawn, he said:
“I wonder how much apiece the governors mean to give us.”
’Pollo was wide awake on the instant.
“I no know, Mass’ Oakum, sah, but dey get so much for demselves dat they give us great big whack.”
“I dunno,” said Sam. “We ought to have made a bargain. But there, let’s go down and turn in.”
“No, sah, I tank you,” said ’Pollo; “it ten time more hot down below dere dan in my galley, where de fire full go. Nuff to cook all de boys in de forksel, and make ’em come up brown in de morning. I not bit sleepy now, and when I am I lie down here on de deck and hab rest.”
“Well it is a bit better up here, ’Pollo, for you can breathe.”
“Yes, sah; can get de wind ’nuff to kip going. But ’bout de silber, sah. You tink dey get up all from down below?”
“Yes, ’Pollo, and I suppose we shall start next to get to another sunken wreck, and unload her.”
“I tink, sah, I take de schooner close up to dat old wreck off de lilly island.”
“So do I, ’Pollo; and what’s more I will.”
“I tink, sah, we ought get berry big lot ob silber for ourselb. If I tought dey turn shabby, I say let Mass’ Oakum and me go and get de whole ob de oder ship and cut de silber in two half, and take one apiece.”
“Very pretty, ’Pollo, if we could do it: but as we can’t, let’s be content with what we get from the governors.”
“Yah—yah—yah—yah,” laughed ’Pollo softly.
“Now then, what are you grinning about?” said Oakum.
“I tink, sah, about de sunken ship and de silber.”
“What of it?”
“I tink, sah, how funny it am if we came out here, find de sunk ship, pull up all de silber, and den if we go and lose de ship somewheres else, and all de silber go to de bottom again.”
“I say, young fellow,” growled Sam, “don’t you get croaking like that. ’Taint lucky.”
“No, sah; wouldn’t be lucky lose all de silber again. I tink I know how much I go to hab for my share.”
“Enough to make you an independent gentleman for life, ’Pollo.”
“You tink so, sah?” chuckled ’Pollo.
“Sartin sure.”
“Den I wear white hankcher and white wescoat ebery day; and make some darn niggah clean my boots free times over. Yah, yah, yah.”
“Here, I shall be smothered if I stop up here much longer, ’Pollo,” said Oakum, stepping out upon the deck, where all was dark and silent, only a very faint light now coming up through the cabin skylight.
“It am hot, sar, berry hot,” said ’Pollo, and they stood at the side staring at the shore, where the undergrowth seemed to be lit up by a shower of fallen stars, which leaped and danced from leaf to leaf, while the very sea beneath them seemed alive with pale shining points of light, which glided softly along till some fish darted through the water and made the little starry dots flash into a long line of light. Against the side of the ship there seemed to be so much pale golden light rising and falling, showing the copper sheathing of the vessel, and surrounding it with a soft halo which made its shape just faintly outlined from stem to stern. The cables, too, by which it was moored could be faintly traced as lines of light illuminated and sparkling right to the sand below, and for some little time the two men stood watching in silence.
“Dat’s shark,” whispered ’Pollo, suddenly, as he pointed down to where the points of light flashed more vividly as they were agitated, and though they could not make out the shape of the monster, it was plain to see that some great fish was slowly gliding through the water.
“What’s he hanging about after?” said Oakum, watching the place intently. “I should have thought it had been made too warm for them gentlemen, and they’d have give us a wide berth.”
“He know somebody go to die soon,” said ’Pollo, in a low voice. “Dat Mass’ Studwick or pretty Missee Pugh.”
“Don’t you talk humbug,” said Oakum, with a growl. “Phew! it’s strange and hot; I shall go and turn in.”
“You soon turn out again. Mass’ Oakum, you go below. De cockroach hab fine game night like dis hyar, sah, and de skeetas buzz bout like anyfing. You top on deck and lay down under de awning. Dey coming on deck dose oder chap half baked, sah.”
“How do you know?” growled Sam.
“I hear some one, sah, just now come crawl up, and—Oh, Goramighty, who hit me on de head?”
For just then there was a dull thud, a fall, and Sam Oakum felt himself seized from behind, and a hard hand placed over his mouth.
He was too sturdy a fellow, though, to submit to that, and wrenching himself free he sent one of his assailants one way, and the other sprawling over the body of ’Pollo, and darting aside, he gave a spring, caught at the inner side of the main shrouds, swung his legs up, and as the two men ran in pursuit of him they passed beneath him in the darkness, and he climbed softly up higher and higher, then crawling round to the outside, and clung there, gazing down into the darkness below, feeling that he had had a narrow escape for his life.
“The ship’s been boarded in the dark,” he muttered, as he listened attentively, seeing nothing, but making out something of the proceedings by the sounds below.
Now came the noise of the cabin hatches being secured; then there were short, sharp orders here and there, followed by a struggle, a wild cry, and a heavy fall. Then came the splash heard below in the cabin, and Oakum muttered to himself:
“There’s one poor fellow gone to his long home.”
Then he set himself to make out who it could be, but his attention was taken off directly by sounds of the alarm having spread below.
“And now how about all the silver?” muttered Oakum. “That’s about the size of what this here means.”
Sam was right, for the ship had been seized for the sake of the silver found, and that which was to be discovered, for Lauré had decided that it was not safe to stay any longer. He had been waiting his time, and had there been no chance of discovery he intended to let Parkley and Dutch go from wreck to wreck, and obtain all the sunken treasure possible before seizing the vessel. But now the plot seemed so ripe that if allowed to go further it might fail, so, exasperated by his encounter that evening, he had whispered his intentions to the men under his orders, unfortunately more than half the crew, and as Sam Oakum listened from aloft he could hear the scoundrels hurrying about, the hatches secured, and then proceedings followed that showed him that the alarm had fully spread.
First there was the shivering of a skylight, Captain Studwick calling out to know what the noise meant, followed by beating and kicking at the door; and then several shots were fired followed by a dead silence, broken by Lauré’s voice giving orders in a sharp, business-like way.
“I wonder where poor old ’Pollo is,” said Sam Oakum as he sat upon his perch thinking, and by force of habit he took out his tobacco-box, helped himself to a bit, and began to consider about the perils of his position. Where he was would do very well for now, he argued, but as soon as the day began to break he would be seen, and then the probabilities were that he would be shot down.
“Leastwise, p’haps, they’ll let me off as soon as I say I’ll jyne ’em, but that won’t come off. Now, who’s in this game, I wonder? That yaller-skinned mulatto chap’s one for a dollar, and there’s roughs enough among those as came aboard with him to make up a pretty crew, I’ll swear.”
Sam sat thinking while the captors of the vessel were pretty busy down below, and at last, one plug of tobacco being ended, he started upon another, but this time not being so cautious, or rather having his attention taken up by what was passing below, he closed the steel tobacco-box with a loud clear snap, and in the stillness of the night this sounded so clearly that he knew he must be discovered.
To change his position was the work of a few moments, and while he was in the act of moving there was a sharp flash, and the report of a pistol, followed by another and another, the bullets whistling close by him.
“There’s some one up in the rigging,” said Lauré sharply. “It’s that black cook.”
“No,” said another voice, “we fetched him down first off, and he’s been pitched below.”
“Who is it, then?” said Lauré sharply.
“I think Oakum was on deck,” said another voice.
“Here you, Sam Oakum, come down,” said Lauré, in a clear, loud voice. “Come down and you shall not be hurt.”
“That’s nice palaver after sending bullets to fetch a man down,” said Sam to himself, “and after pitching one poor chap to the sharks. I think I’ll stay where I am.”
“Here, two of you to the port, and two to the starboard shrouds. Take your knives with you, and if the scoundrel won’t give in, fetch him down best way you can.”
Sam Oakum drew a long breath as he heard these words, and then, the rigging beginning to quiver, he set his teeth, and began to make cautiously for one of the stays, intending to get to the next mast if he could, and so steal down on deck, where, if he could contrive to reach the poop, he might climb over and join those below through the cabin windows.
It was ticklish work, though, for as he glided and swung from place to place, he could hear by the hard breathing that he was closely pursued. Spider-like, too, the touching of the various ropes by his enemies gave him fair warning that he was in danger, though, unfortunately, his movements were in the same way telegraphed to his enemies.
At last they came so near that his capture seemed certain, or if not capture, he felt sure that a blow from a knife would be his portion. For just as he was going to pass on to the shrouds he had reached, he felt by their vibration that some fresh men were coming up, and seizing a rope he swung himself out clear from the top and hung there, gently swaying about, hearing his pursuers pass close by him, so near that he could have stretched out one hand and touched them.
As far as he could judge, he was now just over the cabin skylight, and his heart bounded, for somewhere about here ought to be the top of the wind-sail hung up in the rigging, so that the great canvas tube might convey the fresh air below to take the place of the hot.
“If I could only reach that,” thought Sam, “I might slip inside, and go down with a run into the cabin.”
He felt about gently for some few moments—not a very easy task, swinging as he was—and then to his great joy he felt his leg come in contact with the rope that suspended the sail, threw his legs round it, and slid down to the top; then, feeling for the opening in the side, he thrust in his leg and held on for a moment while he drew his knife and opened it with his teeth, determined to sell his life dearly if he should be assailed.
It was well he did so, for, directly after squaring his elbows so as to make all the resistance possible to a rapid descent, he let himself glide into the long canvas sack; but, in spite of his efforts, he went down with a rapid run, not as he expected into the cabin, but upon the deck, where he lay struggling for a few moments before he could get his knife to work and rip up a sufficiently-large slit to allow of his rolling out, and then leaped to his feet, ready to meet the first attack that came.
The darkness befriended him, for no one dared fire for fear of hitting a friend, and though the noise of his fall brought his enemies round, it was only to seize one another; and in the midst of the confusion he escaped, and dashed off in a hard race, closely pursued by half-a-dozen scoundrels, whose purpose evidently was to hunt him overboard.
Twice over he ran right into some one’s arms, and once he ran full tilt against an enemy, and sent him rolling over on to the deck. Shouts and oaths rang around him, and over and over again poor Oakum felt that his only chance of escaping from one horrible death was by seeking another.
“But no,” he muttered, “I’m not going to be served like that;” and he dodged round mast, galley, and boat, crouching under bulwarks, and escaping over and over again by a miracle as he tried hard to think of some means of baffling his pursuers. The cabin skylight was too strongly covered with wirework, he thought, or he would have tried to leap through; and as to leaping overboard, swimming beneath the cabin window, and calling to those who were prisoners to lower down a rope, that was not to be thought of after the sight he had seen that night in the luminous water.
“I should be torn to pieces,” he muttered. “Take that, you mutinous ruffian,” he added, as he struck out fiercely at one of his enemies, lying down the next moment flat on the deck, so that a pursuer fell over him, and fell with a crash.
Try how he would, the fugitive was beaten; at every turn in the darkness an enemy seemed to spring up in his way, and as he heard the whish of blows directed at him he wondered he had escaped so long.
But a man running for his life is hard to overtake, especially if he have the darkness for his ally: and so it was that at the end of five minutes, during which Sam had been a dozen times within an ace of being taken, he was still at large, standing panting close to the forecastle hatch, while his enemies were creeping cautiously up, ready to make a spring.
“If I’m to be threw overboard,” muttered Sam, “I won’t go alone, anyhow. If the sharks is to be fed, they shall have a double allowance;” and setting his teeth with a vicious grating noise, he prepared for a run aft.
The darkness was now more intense than ever, for a thick mist had come off the land, enshrouding the deck so that Sam could not see the knife he grasped in his hand, but his ears were strained so that he could make out the panting breath of his enemies as they came nearer and nearer, and to his horror he found that they had spread themselves right across the deck; and his imagination suggested that they had joined hands so as to make sure that he did not escape, literally dragging the deck from astern forward, so he knew that they were certain of him this time.
His only chance seemed to be to run out on the bowsprit, and to try to get by one of the stays upon the foremast, but the men were so close that he felt sure they would cut him down before he had gone a yard.
Crouching down, and backing, he was close to the capstan, when his foot came in contact with a fender—one of those heavy pads of cordage and network used to keep ships’ sides from grinding on a stone wharf.
In an instant he had caught it up, and raising it in both hands above his head he waited his time, and then, as the men closed up, he hurled it with all his force against the nearest, catching him full in the chest, and sending him down like a skittle, when, as he uttered a cry, the others believing that the man they sought to capture had sprung upon him, closed in with a shout, and Oakum dashed by them again.
His triumph was but short-lived, for the men were after him directly, chasing him now more savagely than ever. Once or twice his bare feet had slipped on the wet deck, and he had shuddered, believing it to be blood; and forgetting the place, as now, panting and nearly exhausted, he was running on, feeling that the time had come to stand at bay, one of his feet glided over the boards and as he made an effort to save himself by a leap, there was a heavy crash, a fall, and he knew no more.