Chapter Thirty Three.
On the Qui Vive.
The buccaneer had sought the ruined temple that evening in lowness of spirit and utter despondency. The old daring spirit seemed to be departing, and supremacy over the men passing rapidly away, and he knew how they talked among themselves, consequent upon Mazzard’s teaching, of the growing weakness of their commander.
“And they’re right,” he said, bitterly. “I am losing power and strength, and growing more and more into the pitiful, weak creature they say. And yet how I have tried!”
He sprang to his feet, for at that moment there was the reflection of a flash which lit up the interior of the old temple, showing the weird figures sitting round as if watching him in his despondent mood.
It was but momentary, and then came a crash as if heaven and earth had come together, followed by a long, muttering roar as the thunder of the explosion died away.
The minute before the buccaneer had been inert, despondent and hopeless. The knowledge of what must have taken place brought back his flagging energies, and with a great dread seeming to compress his heart that evil might have befallen his prisoner, he tore out of the dark temple, and as fast as the gloom of the winding path would allow him toward the old amphitheatre.
Haste and the excitement made his breathing laboured as he strove to get on more rapidly, but only to be kept back by the maze-like paths, where he passed Humphrey and Dinny, and, gaining the open ground, dashed on to where his men were gathered.
“Bart! quick!” he cried, as soon as he was convinced that no harm could have befallen his prisoner. “Take men, and down the path to the shore. There will be an attempt to escape in the confusion, and they’ll make for the sea.”
Bart grasped the urgency of the case, called two men, and set off at a run, while Dinny was next summoned.
“Hah!” ejaculated the captain, drawing his breath between his teeth; “a traitor in the camp!”
He called for lights, and went straight to the corridor, entered and walked down it to the chamber, tenanted now by the grim idol alone, and stood for a few moments looking round.
“Well,” he muttered, “he will learn the truth of what I said. The firing of the powder must have been planned.”
He went back to where his men were waiting outside and walked through to the terrace above the old amphitheatre, to find that the magazine was completely swept away; but the darkness hid the shattered stones lying in all directions and the trees blasted and whitened and stripped of leaf and bark.
“My prisoner has escaped,” he said aloud. “I think with the man who was his attendant, the Irishman, Dennis Kelly. Capture both; but no violence to either, on your lives.”
There was a low murmur either of assent or objection, and he was turning away when Dick, the sailor, came up.
“Gone!” he said, laconically.
“Mazzard? Gone!” cried the buccaneer, excitedly.
“Yes; and the man who was on guard lying dead, crushed with a stone.”
“From the explosion?” cried the buccaneer.
“From Black Mazzard’s hands,” replied Dick, stolidly.
“Well,” said the captain, drawing in his breath hard as he thought of the possibility of the escaped prisoners coming in contact, “there will be two to capture when the day breaks. No one can get away.”
In an hour a messenger came from the sea in the shape of Bart, and he made his way to the captain’s side.
“Well?”
“You were right; they intended the sea;” and he explained about the boat.
“And yet you have come away?”
“Two men are watching,” said Bart, stolidly.
“Bah! you must be mad.”
“And two planks are rifted out of the boat. It will take a carpenter to make her float.”
“Bart, forgive me.”
“Forgive you! Ah, yes! I forgive.”
“I have need of all your aid. Captain Armstrong has escaped.”
“Not far.”
“No; but there is worse news. Mazzard has brained his keeper, and is at liberty.”
“Hah!” ejaculated Bart.
“And those two may meet.”
“Always of him,” muttered Bart, sadly. “Well, skipper, what is it to be now, when he is captured?”
“Death.”
“To Captain Armstrong?”
“Man, are you mad? Let Mazzard be taken, and that Irishman, too.”
“And—”
“Silence, man! Let them be taken. I rule here.”
Bart drew a long breath.
“Nothing can be done till daylight, except wait.”