Story 1--Chapter XV.
The Silent Sea.
The schooner sped on, and nothing troublous disturbed the progress of the voyage as the days glided by. So free from suspicion was everything on board, that the captain was beginning to be lulled into a sense of security, and a change had come over Pugh.
A reconciliation had not taken place between him and Hester; but he did not avoid her now, but in a quiet, stern way watched over her, attending her as she struggled back to health under the unremitting charge of the doctor; and her lips daily grew less pale as the light of hope began once more to shine in her eyes.
The routine of the ship went on in a regular way, and the men smoked and idled as they entered the tropics, and neared the object of the voyage. The doctor made himself specially agreeable to Sam Oakum, chatted with him, gave him cigars, which Sam cut up and chewed, ending by talking about John Studwick; at which Sam winked to himself as he thought that the doctor would not have taken so much interest in the case if it had not been for the sister. Then, to use Oakum’s own words, Mr Wilson would “come and fold his back,” so as to lean his elbows on the bulwarks, and chatter about his birds and the natural-history objects Sam had seen in his travels—that worthy not forgetting to shoot the birds he described with the long bow; and all the while Mr Wilson, who was an exceedingly meek individual, would be smoothing his light, towey hair, which the winds blew about, altering the set of his tie and collar, and brushing the specks off his clothes.
“He’s a poor, weak, soft Tommy sort of a chap,” said Sam to himself, as he watched him out of one corner of his eye, and saw that he was constantly on the look-out to see if Bessy Studwick came up on deck, content to watch her from a distance, for her brother had taken quite an antipathy to him.
“Heigho!” he’d sigh, as he shook his head, and gazed down at the water, as if wondering whether he had not better emulate Dutch’s plunge, and not come up again. “Heigho! this is a strange world, Mr Oakum.”
“It’s a rum ’un, sir, all round, and always was. But I say, sir, it’s easy to see what’s the matter with you.”
“Oh, nonsense, nonsense, Mr Oakum!” said the tall fellow, blushing like a girl.
“It’s only natur’, sir,” said Sam, sympathetically, as he gave a good twist to his quid, and winked at one of the blacks. “It ain’t nothin’ to be ashamed on.”
“Ah; Mr Oakum, I wish I was in such favour as you are over yonder.”
“You would not like to pay the cost, sir, I know.”
“Pay the cost, Mr Oakum; what do you mean?”
“It’s only we ugly ones as enjoys these privileges with the fair sect. You wouldn’t like to be old and ugly like me, to be talked to as I am.”
“Ah, Mr Oakum, I would be her dog if she would be fond of me—or a bird,” he said, enthusiastically. “Ah, if I had only thought of it before I started.”
“Thought o’ what, sir?” said Sam, winking at the black again.
“Of bringing a few canaries. They are such nice presents to give a lady.”
“Do you want to send a present to her, sir?”
“Oh, yes, Mr Oakum.”
“Well, sir, if I were in love with a lady, and wanted—”
“Oh, hush! Mr Oakum.”
“Wanted, I says, to find her a present, I shouldn’t send whistling canaries, but a pair o’ cooing doves.”
The young naturalist stared at old Oakum, as if he wished to penetrate his inmost thoughts; but the old sailor never flinched, looking as serious as a judge outside, but laughing heartily within at the other’s expense.
“I will,” he exclaimed; and hurrying away he was busy the rest of the day painting up one of his old cages, in which he placed a pair of doves, and called the old sailor down to him in the evening.
“Take those to Miss Studwick, Mr Oakum, with my compliments, and—er—by the way—er—you would not feel offended if I offered you half-a-crown to buy tobacco?”
“Not in the least, sir,” exclaimed Oakum, earnestly. “I’d do owt to oblige you.”
“Take them directly, then,” he exclaimed; and with the two soft-plumaged birds sitting close together as the old fellow swung the cage, the present was taken to where Bessy Studwick sat by the side of her brother, reading to him on deck.
Oakum was gone some time, and meanwhile poor Wilson fidgeted about amongst his birds, hardly able to bear the suspense, turning first red, and then pale, as Oakum came back, cage in hand, and set it down before him.
“Miss Studwick says she’s werry much obliged to you, sir,” said Sam; “but she can’t werry well keep the birds, as Mr John thinks they’d be too much for him to bear when they took to cooing.”
“It don’t matter, Oakum—set them down,” he said, huskily, with his back turned to the old sailor. “I only thought the birds might amuse them, as Mr John is so ill. Dick, Dick, pretty Dick,” first to one bird and then to another, to hide his confusion. “Come, little tame bird—come, Jenny,” he continued, opening one of the cage doors, when a pretty little red-poll came hopping down from one perch to the other, and then stood at the door looking out, with its head first on one side and then on the other, and its little beady eyes directed first at Oakum, then at its master.
“Why, bless its little heart, it looks as knowing as a Christian,” said the old sailor. “Why didn’t you send that one, sir? That would have pleased the young lady, and would have made no noise.”
Wilson shook his head as he held out his finger, and the bird uttered a loud twitter and flew to him, sitting on its living perch, and then, raffling its throat and crest, jerked out a little song, suffering itself afterwards to be stroked, and ending by picking a crumb from the naturalist’s mouth, and then flitting back to the cage in which it was duly secured.
But all of the birds were more or less tame, being ready to peck at the young man’s fingers; and a robin, setting up his feathers and making a playful attack as it fluttered its wings, and pecked and fought, ended by hopping on its perch, and bursting into a triumphant song, as if it had conquered some fierce rival.
“I wonder how many of them’ll live in a foreign country, sir, when you gets ’em there,” said Oakum.
“Well, not all,” said Mr Wilson; “but many of them. Mind the paint on that cage, Mr Oakum. I’m so much obliged. Er—you won’t take any notice about that cage and the birds? Not that it matters, only Mr Meldon or Mr Parkley might laugh, perhaps.”
“Not I, sir. You may trust me,” growled Sam.
“Some people have a habit of laughing at natural history, you know, er—er—because they don’t understand.”
“You may trust me, sir,” exclaimed the old fellow, as he went up the steps; and then to himself, “Yes, some folks has a habit of laughing at that kind o’ nat’ral history when they see it. For only to think of a thin, wobbling chap fancying as our Miss Bessy would take up with the likes o’ he. Hah! its a curus thing this love, and them as has got spliced don’t allus seem to fit.”
He went on deck to find Bessy Studwick still reading to her brother; and her voice sounded so hoarse that the old fellow trotted to the steward’s pantry for a glass of water and a couple of lumps of sugar, squeezing in afterwards the two halves of a lemon, bearing the drink himself to where John Studwick lay back gazing at the setting sun, his face lit up with a calm, placid smile; and, though his sister read on, he evidently hardly heard a word that was read.
He started slightly as Oakum came up with the tumbler.
“What is it?” he said, harshly. “Has that Mr Meldon sent me more medicine? I will not take it.”
Bessy Studwick must have turned her face more to the setting sun, for her cheeks grew crimson at her brother’s words; and, seeing this, he looked at her angrily.
“Lor’ bless your ’art, no, sir,” said Oakum. “I thought you and our young lady here might be a bit thirsty after so much book, so I brought you some lemonade.”
They gave him a grateful look, each thanking him for the attention to the other, and as he walked back with the empty glass Mr Meldon, who was standing talking to Hester Pugh and Mr Parkley, turned, sighed to himself, and looked after the old man with a feeling of envy.
“If I had paid that little attention,” he thought, “it would have been refused with some harsh remark. Poor fellow! even though he’s her brother, I do not wonder at his feeling jealous of every look.”
Days of sailing over bright, sun-flecked seas, evenings of gorgeous sunsets, and nights of black violet skies, with the great stars sparkling overhead, and reflected in myriads on the smooth surface of the wondrous phosphorescent water, all aglow with pale fire wherever fish darted, while the schooner’s bows seemed plunging through foaming, liquid moonbeams. Mornings with such wondrous tints of orange and scarlet, crimson and gold, that those who gazed upon them did so in awe of the mighty works of the grand world. Then came heat so intense that the brass rails burned the hand, the pitch oozed from the seams, and the passengers lay panting beneath the awning spread aft, and longing for the evening breeze.
Now and then the cocoanut-fringed islands were seen, but no stoppage was made; for, on consideration, it was decided that such a step might afford the Cuban a clue to their whereabouts, while now both Captain Studwick and Dutch felt satisfied that their suspicions had been without foundation—that they had indeed eluded him, and all they had to do now was to make the best of their way to the treasure, and secure their prizes.
So southward and westward went the schooner, past reef, key, and island towards the El Dorado of their hopes; the two invalids much better; in fact, Hester’s colour had been pretty well restored, and all she waited for was the day when her golden hopes would be realised—not those of finding ingot or bar long buried in the sea, but the restoration, complete and full, of her husband’s love and trust.
The Caribbean Sea had long been entered, and its sheltering chain of islands left behind; and now, with Oakum in consultation with the captain, the vessel’s course was altered to due south, with the result that one evening, after gradually creeping along the forest-clad coast of Venezuela, and land that seemed almost weird in its silence and wild grandeur, anchor was cast for the night, for the voyage was almost at an end.
A long debate took place that night, in which Oakum and the black took part, the result being eminently satisfactory to Mr Parkley and Dutch, for both the above spoke positively as to their being now within certainly a mile east or west of the spot where one of the wrecks could be found.
“I don’t say, you know, as I’ve put the schooner right on the spot; but she’s here close, and we must out boats and cruise about, looking down through the water, which is as clear as glass, till we get right, and then we can sail or tow her up.”
As the stars came out, and the adventurers stood by the bulwarks, gazing at the thick black wall of forest beyond the rocks and snowy sand, where the waves broke in lines of phosphorescent gold, they could easily understand how it was that these treasures had lain untouched so long. For here the beasts of the forest had sole dominion; and even the Indians of the country showed no sign of ever visiting the grand solitudes. All seemed as nature had left it when her handiwork was at an end; and, driven by some furious hurricane upon one or other of the rocks that abounded, a ship would fill and sink, and be forgotten.