CHAPTER XXXVIII.
THE LAST OF THE BRIGAND BAND—HUNSTON'S PERIL—HIS
WANDERINGS—STARVATION IN THE MIDST OF PLENTY—ON
THE LANDING STAGE AT NIGHT—AN ADVENTURE.
And what of the band?
Where was it?
The fear-stricken few remaining of this once formidable host hid themselves in the recesses of the mountains, lurking, like thieves and miscreants as they were, in retired nooks and crannies.
And so their lives grew wretched.
Their famous recruit, Geoffrey, who was such a famous hand at bringing in plunder every day, disappeared.
And with him disappeared all the booty he had brought them.
Altogether, therefore, this Geoffrey was not so much of an advantage to them as they had at first supposed.
And with the disappearance of Geoffrey, the sham brigand, we have to chronicle the sudden return of our old friend, Dick Harvey, to his beloved Harkaways.
And what of Toro, the giant brigand?
He was completely lost sight of for awhile.
No one knew what had become of him.
Hunston's first care on getting free from the prison was to get into the mountain fastnesses, in search of his old comrade, Toro.
But he could not discover the least trace of his old comrade.
He skulked about at night and fled to sleep in the mountains by day, shrinking at the echo of his own footfalls—starting at his own shadow.
"My curses light upon the Harkaways one and all," was the speech ever upon his tongue; "they have been my bane—my curse through life."
He resolved to get away from this place.
Yes; he would fly.
But how?
Here was he well-nigh starving in the midst of plenty, possessed of a sum of money which was a small fortune in that land, and yet he dare not change or part with it.
This life grew unendurable, and he resolved at all hazards to change it.
Yes; he would get away from this place at once.
Soon after dusk, he ventured, well disguised, into the town and down to the water side, and lolling about, he soon chanced to hear something which greatly interested him.
A group of French sailors were smoking, and gossiping upon a subject which caught his attention as soon as he heard a name mentioned.
Harkaway.
"Yes; Mr. Harkaway and friends are going away tomorrow," said one of the sailors, who appeared to be a petty officer.
"I shall come down and see the ladies go on board," said one of the sailors.
"No, you won't," laughed the former speaker.
"Why not?"
"You're too late."
"They're not on board already, surely?"
"Indeed, they are."
"They start early."
"They weigh anchor at daybreak, I hear."
"Ah, well," said the other sailor, joining in; "they'll miss Monsieur Harkaway here, for he's as rich as Croesus."
"Or Monte Christo," said another, laughingly.
"Aye, that he is," said another sailor. "I was here when the ladies went on board, and I was lucky enough to be able to render some little service to Madam Harkaway."
"What was it?"
"It is not worth repeating," replied this modest Gallic tar. "All I know is, that Monsieur Harkaway made such a fuss about it that he would insist upon my going on board with him to drink their health."
"And you went?"
"Yes; and we swam in good wine. And when I came away, it was with pockets full of cigars and money to stand treat to you all round."
"What a splendid fellow this Monsieur Harkaway is."
"Aye, that he is."
And amidst these words of praise Hunston slunk away, gnashing his teeth in rage and bitterness.
"Hang him!" he muttered; "his old brag and ostentation have caught these fools! I wonder where his vessel is? If I could fire a torpedo under it and send them all where young Jack and the other boy have gone to, I shouldn't have a dull moment for the rest of my life."
And the ruffian chuckled to himself maliciously.
"Ah, but I was one with them," he muttered, "when I had their precious boy and that Harry Girdwood shot like dogs that they were. Ah! that was grand. Those were crumbs of comfort."
And rubbing his hands and chuckling, he rambled on.
He paused presently upon coming to a long, wooden landing stage, jutting out a long way to sea.
Arrived at the head of the jetty, he looked out earnestly seaward, in the endeavour to trace out which of the many ships in the offing could be the Harkaways' vessel.
"Well, well," he murmured to himself, "I don't care much, for I don't see what I could do if I knew it. I could only send my blessing straight after it—hah, hah! But with Harkaway's departure, I can breathe more freely. I have only to get over a few weeks quietly, and then all the dust which he has kicked up will blow over, and I can live quietly upon his money like a gentleman, until I decide upon the next step."
While he sat thus looking out to sea, his attention was suddenly attracted shorewards.
"Confusion!" he ejaculated, starting up; "there's someone coming along the jetty."
It was true.
Two sailors and a woman came sauntering along the landing stage, chatting as they came.
There was barely room for four abreast upon the narrow wooden pier, and consequently they might recognize him, providing they had heard the description of him.
"What an ass I was to come here," muttered Hunston; "to drive myself into a corner."
He looked round.
They did not appear to notice him.
Not yet at least.
So he crouched down, and lowered himself into a boat, which was moored to one of the end piles.
Beneath the end of the jetty was a series of crossbars and beams, resting upon the low range of piles, which indeed served as the main foundation for the whole structure.
So Hunston clambered nimbly out of the boat into this species of scaffolding.
Here he lay at full length, listening for the approach of these three people.
* * * * *
"You had better come ashore now, miss," said one of the sailors.
"No, no," replied Mrs. Harkaway's new maid.
"But you'll never be up in time if you go to bed at all."
"Oh, yes, Mistaire Saileur, I get up at the hour which I like; I shall go on board at three o'clock," said the wilful girl. "I shall get the seasickness quite early enough, I know. Besides, I don't like the water when it so dark."
"The moon will be up directly."
Jack Tiller was right.
The moon just then burst through a thick cloud, and shot a ray of silvery light just upon the spot where the girl was kneeling.
It fell across a living face just below the flooring of the jetty.
A face rendered ghastly white by the action of the moonlight, with eyes upturned in eagerness and expectation.
A startling sight.
A weird and ghastly object to come suddenly before the strongest nerve.
She started back, and sprang to her feet.
Then, with a piercing shriek, she fled.
The sailors looked aghast, staring at each other for explanations.
"Let's after her, Jack!" cried one; "she'll be overboard double quick if she fouls agin them blessed bulwarks. It's as rotten as tinder."
Off they ran, and they tried all they could to bring the girl back.
But she had had such a scare that she would not hear of it.
She had seen a man hiding there.
"Bah!" cried Jack Tiller, "why should a man hide away from us?"
"Yes, that's it, miss, why?"
"I don't care, I know it was a man. I knew the face. I have seen it in madame's book of photographs."
"The dooce you did."
"Who was it?"
"One of the brigands. The likeness was taken in prison."
This made the gallant tars laugh again.
"That's the natural bogey hereabouts," said Joe Basalt; "damme if I believe half their yarns about the brigands."
"Nor I neither."
And so, failing to persuade the girl to go on board then, they went back up the jetty, dropped into their boat, and, unlocking it, rowed out to sea.