Chapter Fourteen.
“Master Jack.”
They had been a month on the island, leading a dreamy kind of existence, and had begun to sleep of a night deeply and well without starting up half a dozen times bathed in sweat, and believing that the authorities from Plantation Settlement were on their track and about to take them by surprise. The question had been debated over and over again—What were they to do? but Dinny generally had the last word.
“Why, who wants to do anything? Unless a man was in Ireland, where could he be better than he is here, with iverything a man could wish for but some more powder and a wife. Eh! Master Jack, ye handsome young rascal, that’s what ye’re always thinking about.”
“Jack” gave him an angry look, and coloured.
“Look at him!” cried Dinny. “There’s tell-tales. Niver mind, lad, it’s human nature, and we’re all full of it, and a good thing, too. Now come and get some cocoa-nuts, for the powder’s growing very low and we shall have to take to pig hunting instead of shooting when its done.”
“Jack” hesitated, and then, as if suddenly making up his mind, accompanied the Irishman to the nearest grove where the cocoa palms grew close down to the sea.
Here Dinny rolled up the sleeves of his coarse and ragged shirt, and climbed one tree as a lad does a pole; but the fruit when he reached it was immature, and he threw only one of the great husks down.
“We don’t want dhrink, but mate,” said Dinny, selecting another tree, and beginning to climb; but the day was hot, there was a languid feeling induced by the moist atmosphere, and Dinny failed three times to reach the glorious green crown of leaves where the nuts nestled, and slid down again, sore in body and in temper.
“A failure, Dinny!” said Jack.
“Failure! yes. Can’t ye see it is?” said the Irishman sourly, as he bent down and softly rubbed the inner sides of his knees. “Here, I’m not going to do all the climbing. You have a turn.”
“Jack” shook his head.
“No skulking!” cried Dinny; “fair-play’s a jool, me lad, so up you go. Ye’re younger and cleverer wid yer arms and legs than I am. Why, ye ought to go up that tree like a monkey.”
“Jack” shook his head and frowned.
“No,” he said, “I’m no climber. Let’s go back.”
“Widout a nut, and ready to be laughed at? Not I, me lad. Now, then, I shall have to tak ye in hand and mak a man of ye. Up wid ye.”
He caught the youth by the arm, and drew him, half-resisting, toward the tree.
“No, no, Dinny. Nonsense! I could not climb the tree.”
“Bedad, an’ ye’ve got to climb it!” cried Dinny. “Now, thin, take howld tightly, and up you go.”
“Loose my arm,” said Jack, speaking in a low voice, full of suppressed anger.
“Divil a bit. Ye’ve got to climb that three.”
“Loose my arm, Dinny,” said Jack again.
“Ye’ve got to climb that three, I tell ye, boy. Now, thin, no skulking. Up wid ye.”
“Jack” hung back, with the colour deepening in his cheeks, and a dark look in his eyes, which Dinny could not interpret and, half in anger at the lad’s opposition, half in playful determination, he grasped the youth firmly, and forced him toward the tree.
In an instant Jack flung himself round, with his eyes flashing, and before the Irishman could realise what was coming he went staggering back from the fierce blow he received in his chest, caught his heels against the husk of an overgrown nut, and came down heavily on the sand.
Dinny was an Irishman, and he had received a blow.
“Bad luck to ye, ye arbitrary young divil!” he cried, springing up. “It’s a big bating ye want, is it, to tache ye manners! thin ye shall have it.”
Jack trembled with indignation and excitement, but not with fear, for his cheeks were scarlet instead of pale. A blow had been struck, and he knew that no Irishman would receive one without giving it back with interest, and the only way out of the difficulty was to run, and he scorned to do that.
Quick as lighting he snatched a knife from his pocket, threw open the blade, and held it across his chest, half turning from his assailant, but with the point so directed that, if Dinny had closed, it could only have been at the expense of an ugly wound.
“Look at that now!” cried Dinny, pausing with hands raised to grip his adversary; “and me widout a bit o’ shtick in me fist. Ye’d shting, would ye, ye little varmint! Put down yer knoife and fight like a man. Bah!” he cried contemptuously, as his anger evaporated as rapidly as it had flashed up, “ye’re only a boy, and it’s no dishgrace to have been hit by one o’ yer size. I could nearly blow ye away. There, put away yer knoife and shake hands.”
A hail from the cluster of trees which they made their camp, and Bart and Abel came into sight.
Jack closed his knife with a sigh of relief, and dropped it into his pocket.
“An’ ye won’t shake hands?” said Dinny, reproachfully.
“Yes, I will, Dinny,” cried Jack, warmly, holding out his hand; “and I’m sorry I struck you.”
“That’s handsome, me lad,” cried the Irishman, gripping it tightly. “I’m not sorry, for it don’t hurt now, and I’m glad ye’ve got so much fight in ye. Ye’re a brave lad, and there’s Irish blood in ye somewhere, though ye’re ignorant of the fact. Hallo, captain! what ye’re going to do?”
Abel strode up with Bart at his side, looking curiously from one to the other.
“I want to have a talk with you two,” said Abel, throwing himself on the sand. “Sit down.”
“Did he see?” said Jack to himself, as he took his place a little on one side.
“A talk, and widout a bit o’ tobacky!” said Dinny, with a sigh. “What is it, captain, dear?”
“Bart and I have been thinking over our position here,” said Abel, “and we have determined to go.”
“To go!” said Dinny. “Why, where would ye foind a bether place?”
“That has to be seen,” said Abel; “but we can’t stay here, and we want to know where the nearest port to which we could sail and then get ship for home.”
“Get ship for the prison, ye mane!” cried Dinny, indignantly. “They’d send the lot of us back, and in less than a month you and Bart there would be hoeing among the bushes, young Jack here would be thried and punished for helping ye to escape, and as for me—well,” he added, with a comical grin, “I don’t, know what they’d do with me, but I’m sure they wouldn’t give me my promotion.”
“But we shall starve if we stay here,” said Abel, sternly.
“And is it shtarve wid you two such fishermen? Get out wid ye! Let’s build a hut before the rainy time comes, and settle down. Here’s as foine an estate as a gentleman need wish to have; and some day wan of us ’ll go for a holiday to Oireland or Shcotland, and persuade four illigant ladies to come wid us and be married; and what more could a boy wish for then, eh, Masther Jack? What do you say, Bart?”
“That we must go,” said Bart, gruffly.
“Let’s think it over first,” said Dinny. “At all events ye can’t go for months to come; for ye’d be taken for eshcaped prisoners at wanst; so, as we’ve got no vittles, let’s tak the boat and go out and catch some fish.”
Abel frowned, and seemed disposed to continue the discussion; but everyone else was silent, and he rose slowly, ready enough, from old associations, to obey a command. So the little party walked slowly down toward where the boat lay hidden, ready to row it out to the edge of one of the weed-hung reefs, where fish were plentiful; and in spite of the roughness of their hooks and lines a pretty good dish could always be secured.
They had reached the end of the ravine, where the trees and bushes grew thickly, and Jack, who was first, was in the act of passing out on to the sands of the little bay, when a great hand seized him by the shoulder, and he was dragged back.
His hand went to his pocket again in the instinct of self-defence, for it seemed to be a repetition of Dinny’s attack; but, turning sharply, he found that it was Bart who had dragged him back among the trees, and stood pointing seaward, where the solution of their difficulty appeared in, as it were, a warning to escape; for at about half a mile from the shore a white-winged cutter was coming rapidly toward the little bay; and as she careened over they could see that she was occupied by at least a dozen men.
“Quick, the boat!” cried Abel, excitedly.
“Are ye mad!” cried Dinny. “They could see us, and would be here before we could got round the point.”
“Right,” growled Bart.
“It’s the cutter from the settlement,” said Dinny, watching the coming vessel. “She sails like the wind, and, bedad, it’s wind they’ve got of where we are, and they’ve come to fetch us. Now, thin, boys, the divil a bit will I go back, so who’s for a foight?”
The sight of the cutter seemed to chase away all discontent with their position, bringing up, as it did, the recollection on the part of one of months of longing to give freedom to brother and friend; on the part of the other three, of long periods of toilsome labour in chains, and of wearisome keeping guard over the wretched convicts, sickening in the tropic sun. The island suddenly assumed the aspect of a paradise, from which they were to be banished for ever; and stealing silently back to their little camp, the fugitives hastily did what they could to destroy traces of their presence, and then turned to Abel to ask what next.
“The woods,” he said. “We must hide while we can, and when they hunt us to bay we must fight for it.”
“No,” said Jack, quickly. “They will think we are in the woods, as being the most likely place for us to hide. We should be safer among the rocks in the cliff side, and should be able to watch the cutter as well.”
“It’s a born gin’ral ye are,” said Dinny, enthusiastically.
“Right, Abel, lad; Jack’s right,” growled Bart; and Abel acceded with a nod of his head.
“You are lightest,” he said. “Go first, Jack. Steal down by the side of the cliff, and get a good way round.”
“No,” said Jack, “there is neither time nor need. We must stay where we are, and wait and see which way they go. It will be time then to retreat.”
“Hark at him! Sure, and if I wasn’t certain that there’s Oirish blood in his veins, I’d say his grandfather was the Juke o’ Marlbrook.”
“Right,” growled Bart; and they drew back among the rocks and waited, lying down so as to be well hidden, Jack climbing a little way up the slope above them, and getting into a position which commanded the ravine leading down to the bay.
They had not long to wait before voices were heard coming up from the shore, and soon after the overseer made his appearance, in company with a young officer, both carrying pieces over their shoulders, and followed by half a dozen soldiers in their flannel undress.
They were chatting and smoking, and quite off their guard, taking matters so leisurely that the watcher felt doubtful as to their intentions, and lay trying to catch the bent of their conversation, as they went on toward the interior of the little island, their voices dying out in the distance, before he attempted to stir.
When he drew himself slowly back and crept through the bushes till he rejoined his companions, every mouth parted to ask for news; and anxiety, mingled with the stern determination painted in their faces, told of the stubborn resistance that their pursuers might expect before they had achieved their ends.
“They have gone right on into the woody part.”
“Yes, the gin’ral’s right,” said Dinny.
“But I have my doubts of their intentions,” said Jack.
“And so have I—big doubts,” said Dinny; “so I won’t thrust them.”
“I don’t think they’ve come in search of you,” continued Jack.
“Not come in search of us?” said Abel, excitedly.
A shot rang out from the distance, followed immediately by another.
“That proves it,” said Jack. “It is a shooting party.”
“Av course it is,” cried Dinny, laughing. “I could have told ye that, only I didn’t think of it. It’s the pigs they’re after, and they’re making free wid our flocks and herds.”
“What a relief!” said Abel, wiping the sweat from his brow. “What shall we do next?”
“Keep in hiding; but I’ll climb up till I can see their cutter. It may be near our boat.”
“A born gin’ral,” said Dinny, giving his head a roll and gazing approvingly at Jack. “There’ll be two or three left in charge of their boat, and—what would you do next?”
Jack held up his hand, and softly retraced his course up the steep slope; and they could trace him from time to time by the waving of the leaves, but he went so cautiously that he was not seen once; and while they kept their eyes fixed upon one spot the bushes and leaves were seen to rustle softly some distance higher up.
Then they saw no more, but lay listening to the distant shouts and firing which reached their ears again and again, till, to the surprise of all three, Jack suddenly came upon them from behind.
“Well?” said Abel, eagerly.
Jack could not speak for a few moments, being breathless with exertion.
“Three men left with the cutter and they are ashore, lying upon the sands.”
“Abel,” said Jack, after a long, thoughtful silence, “we shall never be safe here with these people coming from time to time.”
“No; that settles our plans. We must take the boat and go.”
“Why not take our enemy’s vessel? We could sail where we liked then.”
“Didn’t I say he was a born gin’ral?” cried Dinny, enthusiastically.
“Take their boat!” said Abel.
“They’re three men, and we’re three,” said Bart, in a low growl.
“Four!” cried Dinny, excitedly. “Ye never see how Masther Jack can foight.”
“Hush!” said the latter, sternly. “The men are lying about half asleep. If we waited, we might get on board, cut the anchor rope, and drift out with the tide perhaps without rousing them.”
“And if it came to the worst we could fight,” said Abel.
“Are ye ready?” whispered Dinny. “See that your piece is well primed. My shtick’s loaded, and I’m ready to fire it off.”
“Hush!” said Jack, sternly. “I will climb up to where I can watch the men, and if they go to sleep I will wave a branch. Then creep up to me, and we may succeed without trouble.”
The proposal was agreed to at once, and a long, tedious time of waiting ensued, at the end of which Bart bared his arm.
“We’re strong enough for ’em,” he whispered. “Let’s go at once and fight it out.”
At that moment, high above their heads, a branch was seen waving just as a shot rang out at no great distance, shouts were heard, and the grunting of a herd of the wild pigs rose from the wooded part on their left.
“Too late!” whispered Abel.
“Right!” growled Bart.
“Then we’ll foight for it,” whispered Dinny. “Bedad, I believe they’ll run as soon as they find us here, and small blame to ’em.”