Story 1--Chapter XXIX.
Awakening.
How long Dutch had been asleep he could not tell, but he was dreaming of some fresh trouble. He was diving, and one of the sharks kept striking him blows on the helmet, the noise seeming to reverberate within his brain, when, making an effort, he dragged the helmet off so as to more clearly see his enemy, and strike at it with his knife, when he awoke to hear noises overhead, the beating of feet, and, as he leaped out of his cot, struggling, a horrible cry, and he stood paralysed as the next moment the cabin door was banged to, and sounds came as of ropes being piled upon it.
“In God’s name, what does this mean?” said the doctor, who had leapt out of his berth, and was hastily dressing.
“Heaven only knows,” replied Dutch. “But quick! Miss Studwick! My wife! Get to their cabin door. Indians, perhaps, from the shore—an attack—we must save them.”
“Even at the expense of our lives,” said the doctor in a low voice. “Have you taken my revolver, or my gun?”
“No, no. Mine are gone, too,” exclaimed Dutch. “Never mind, man, we have our hands: quick!”
They rushed out of the cabin, nearly oversetting Mr Parkley and the naturalist; but, paying no heed, Dutch rushed to the little cabin where his wife was clinging to Bessy Studwick, tried the door to find it fastened, and then with one kick sent it off its hinges.
“Hester!” he cried hoarsely, “Hester!”
For answer she sprang to his neck, and clung there with a sigh of relief,—
“This way,” he said, “into the main cabin. Thank heaven, you are safe.”
“And you,” she moaned, as she felt his strong arms round her; and catching one of his hands convulsively she pressed it upon her heart, while her lips sought for his in vain. “Dutch—Dutch—husband—call me wife once more.”
“I’d give my life to do so, Hester,” he whispered passionately, the unknown peril of the night having broken down the icy barrier that had existed for so long.
“Dutch,” she whispered back, “if truth to you deserves the right to be called your wife, you may speak the word.”
“But it is no time to speak now,” he exclaimed. “Some terrible calamity has befallen us.”
“Yes, yes, it was what I feared,” she moaned, clinging more tightly to him.
“You feared,” he said. “But stop! Now in this time of peril, Hester, when in a few moments we may be separated for ever, tell me the truth; you were speaking to some man, and even to-night?”
“Yes, Dutch,” she said.
“It was that mulatto?”
“Mulatto!” she said bitterly. “It was Señor Lauré.”
“Lauré,” he exclaimed. “Yes, I half suspected him, and you knew he was on board and did not warn us,” he added, in a tone of disgust, as he tried to free himself from his wife’s embrace.
“I could only warn you at the peril of your life, Dutch,” she said. “He threatened me.”
They were interrupted by the voice of the captain shouting for the door to be opened.
“Are you there, doctor?” said Dutch.
“Yes,” was the reply.
“And Miss Studwick?”
“I am here,” said Bessy, quietly. “Hester, give me your hand.”
It was pitch dark, and they dared not light a lamp for fear of making marks of themselves for those on deck, especially as, in reply to the captain breaking the cabin skylight, a couple of pistol shots were fired down, fortunately without effect.
Just then Captain Studwick spoke.
“I cannot understand this,” he said. “There must be some treachery somewhere, or we have been boarded in the night. It cannot be an Indian attack. Dutch Pugh, can Lauré have overtaken us?”
“Overtaken us! Poor children that we were to try to fight him with brains,” said Dutch bitterly; “he has never let us out of his sight.”
“What!” cried Mr Parkley.
“He has been on board from the first with half-a-dozen picked men.”
“And he was the mulatto?” cried Captain Studwick. “Curse the fellow! Then we are indeed undone.”
There was a few moments’ silence, and then Captain Studwick spoke again.
“I always felt that there was something wrong—always. Bear me witness that I did, Pugh, and yet I could not tell what it was.”
“You did,” said Dutch, who was listening intently.
“But this is no time for talking,” cried Mr Parkley excitedly. “The scoundrel! the villain! to outdo us like this; and at such a time, when we have just succeeded in getting the treasure. Only to think of it, we have been working like this for him.”
“It has not come to that yet,” said Dutch, quietly, and his voice sounded strangely in the dark. “We are fastened down here, of course, Studwick?”
“Yes, I have tried hard, but they have secured us,” said the captain.
“How many are we here?” said Dutch.
“Don’t talk like that, Mr Pugh,” said Wilson, the naturalist. “You never mean to fight.”
“Englishmen always mean to fight, Mr Wilson,” said Dutch, sternly, “when there are women to protect.”
“That was well said,” exclaimed a voice from the far end of the little saloon. “I wish I was a strong, hearty man like you.”
“I wish so too, my boy,” said Captain Studwick between his teeth. “Poor lad, his soul is strong if his body is weak.”
“Answer to your names, you who are here,” said Dutch; and in return he repeated those of the captain, Mr Parkley, the doctor, naturalist, and John Studwick. “The ladies, I know, are here,” he added.
“Would to heaven they were not!” muttered the doctor.
“There’s more here nor you’ve called over,” said a gruff voice.
“That’s Rasp,” cried Mr Parkley eagerly.
“Yes, and there’s a couple o’ sailors here too,” said the old fellow, “on’y they’ve lost their tongues.”
“Who are they?” asked the captain, sharply.
“Here’s Dick Rolls here, capen,” said a rough voice.
“And who is that speaking?” said the captain.
“Robert Lennie, your honour,” was the reply.
“The two men I suspected,” whispered the captain to Dutch. “We’ve been on the wrong scent throughout.”
“Miss Studwick had better go with my wife into the forecabin,” said Dutch; and his lips trembled as at the words “my wife” he heard a faint sob. Then there was a low rustling noise, and in a moment more all was still.
“Now, captain, quickly,” said Dutch; “had you not better serve out the arms?”
“They would have been served out before now, Pugh,” was the reply, “if we had had them.”
“You don’t mean,” gasped Dutch, as he recollected missing his own pistol from its shelf in the little cabin.
“I mean that while our minds have been fixed on the silver,” said the captain bitterly, “sharper brains than ours have been dead on seizing the golden opportunities. I have searched and there is not a weapon left.”
A low murmur ran round the cabin; and then there was perfect silence, as they all stood there in the pitchy darkness and stifling heat—for the wind-sail had been withdrawn—listening intently to the sounds above, for it was evident now that some fresh disturbance was on foot—in fact, the noise of the discovery of Oakum now began to reach their ears, accompanied directly after by the sound of shots.
“They are not all enemies on deck, then,” said Dutch, eagerly. “Who can that be?”
“It must be Oakum or Mr Jones,” exclaimed the captain.
“Surely we have more true men on board than that,” said Dutch, who in this time of emergency seemed to take the lead.
“I hope so,” was the captain’s remark; and then once more there was silence on deck, following upon a sharp order or two that they could not make out.
Just then Dutch felt a hand laid upon his arm.
“Who is this?” he said, in a low voice.
“It is I—Meldon,” said the doctor in the same tone. “Lean towards me, Mr Pugh.”
“What do you wish to say?” said Dutch.
“Shall we be obliged to fight, Mr Pugh?” whispered the doctor.
“Are you afraid, sir?” was the reply.
“Perhaps I am; it is only natural, Mr Pugh,” said the doctor. “I have seen so much of death that I have learned to fear it more than a rough sailor or soldier, perhaps; but I was not speaking for myself.”
“I am glad of that,” said Dutch, with something of a sneer, for he was annoyed at being interrupted at such a time.
“You need not sneer, Mr Pugh,” said the doctor quietly. “What I fear is that if we come to some bloody struggle, it may mean death to some here.”
“It is pretty sure to, sir—especially to me,” he muttered, “if I get him by the throat. Who is that moving there?” he said aloud.
“On’y me, Mr Pug,” said a rough voice, and the doctor went on.
“You misunderstand me, Mr Pugh,” continued the doctor, in a whisper. “I mean that the shock might be fatal to young Studwick, and I am sure it would be, in her delicate state, to your wife.”
“My wife should have stayed ashore, sir,” said Dutch, rather harsh, for he resented this interference.
“Your words are very bitter, Mr Pugh,” said the doctor, coldly, “and, excuse me, not manly at such a time. Ever since that night when I was called in to Mrs Pugh, and she had that series of swoons—”
“You called in to my wife,” said Dutch, who was startled by the words; “that night?”
“Yes, Miss Studwick sent for me, as I was close at hand. Did you not know?”
“No, no,” said Dutch, “I was away from home. I—I forgot—I did not know.”
“I mean when I found her so weak and ill. You must know—that night I carried her up to bed.”
“Yes—yes,” said Dutch, in a strange voice that he did not know for his own. “You mean that night when you carried her in your arms—to her bedroom—there was a light there.”
“Of course. Miss Studwick held it for me,” said the doctor. “I thought you would recollect.”
“Yes—yes,” said Dutch strangely. “I had forgotten. My God, I must have been mad,” he muttered.
“I beg your pardon,” said the doctor, in a low whisper.
“Nothing, nothing; go on, sir, pray.”
“I am glad I have awakened your interest,” said the doctor. “You thought me officious, but indeed, Mr Pugh, she needs your care and thought. That night I thought she would have died; some trouble, I fear, had given her incipient brain fever, and I really dread what may happen if she is subjected to this shock. If anything can be done.”
“I shall see, I shall see,” said Dutch hoarsely. “It was you, then, who carried her up-stairs—not our regular practitioner,” he added, with his voice trembling.
“No,” said the doctor; “I thought you knew.”
“Don’t speak to me any more now, doctor,” said Dutch, feeling for Mr Meldon’s hand, and pressing it warmly. “God bless you for this. I shall never forget it.”
“It is nothing, Pugh, nothing,” said the other warmly. “Forgive me if I seemed to resent your words; I know you are much troubled now.”
“Hark!” exclaimed Dutch; “listen.”
There was a rush across the deck, evidently far forward, and once more silence.
“Heaven forgive me!” said Dutch to himself; and then, in spite of the terrible peril they were in, he felt his way to the further cabin, and in a low voice whispered his wife’s name.
“Hester—here!”
With a faint cry of joy, she stretched out her hands to him, for there was that in his voice which made her heart leap.
“Dutch! Dutch!” she whispered, as she wreathed her arms round his neck, and clung to him tightly.
“Hester, darling,” he whispered, “you should curse me, and not treat me so. My darling, I have been mad, and have but just learned the truth. Forgive me, dear, forgive me. One word, for I must go.”
“Forgive you?” she whispered back, as she pressed her lips to his in a long passionate kiss. “Husband, dear husband, tell me you believe in me again.”
“Never to doubt you more, darling,” he groaned. “I cannot tell you now. Loose me—quickly—I must go.”
“No, no,” she whispered; “not yet, not yet—one more word, Dutch, one more word.”
“Stand ready there, everyone,” cried the captain, in a loud stern voice, “and close up, gentlemen. Let every man aim at getting the weapons from the cowardly villains. Be firm: we have right on our side.”
There was a sharp rustling noise, and the loud tramp of feet overhead; and then the captain’s voice was heard once more out of the darkness.
“Quick there! Where is Dutch Pugh? The scoundrels are coming down.”
The noise overhead increased as Dutch tore himself from his wife’s arms, and hurried to join the defenders; but the captain’s words were premature, as, after a few minutes, the sounds seemed to go forward once more and almost to cease, and just then Rasp’s voice was heard.
“I’ve been having a rummage about, and here’s two or three tools to go on with. S’pose you take this, Mr Pug, it’s your shark knife; and here’s one for you, Mr Parkley, and one for the captain. Is there any gent as would like an axe?”
“Give it to me,” said the doctor. “Have you anything for yourself?”
“Only another chopper,” said the old fellow, “but it’s as sharp as a razor.”
The diving implements in Rasp’s cabin had been forgotten by all save him, and these he now passed round, sending a thrill of satisfaction through all present, for it was like doubling their strength; and, as they all, well-armed now, stood round the door, there was a rush of feet overhead, the sound of curses, a heavy fall, and those below felt mad with rage at being unable to go to the aid of some one who was evidently fighting on their side, when there was a tremendous crash, and something heavy fell through the skylight to the floor by their side.
In an instant Dutch sprang upon the man who had fallen through, held his knife at his throat, and hissed,—
“If you stir, you’re a dead man. Stand ready to strike down the next one who comes through,” he added to his friends.
“Who’s a-going to stir?” said a surly voice. “I’m too beat out. There, you needn’t be skeared; no one else won’t come down that way.”
“Oakum!” exclaimed Dutch, taking his knee from the prostrate man’s chest.
“I ain’t quite sure yet,” said the old fellow. “It was me—what them warmint had left; but you’ve most squeezed out the little bit of breath as I had.”
“My good fellow,” exclaimed the captain, “I’m very glad you’ve escaped. Are you wounded?”
“I’m blessed if I know, capen,” growled the old fellow, rising and shaking himself. “I’m precious sore all over and pumped out, but I can’t feel any holes in my carkidge as yet. How’s everyone here?”
“Unhurt at present,” was the reply.
“Got the ladies safe?”
“Yes.”
“That’s a blessing,” muttered the old fellow.
“But who has been killed?” whispered Dutch in a low voice.
“Well, that’s about what I was a-going to ask you, gentlemen,” said Oakum. “Far as I can make out, there’s the whole of the watch. Bob Lennie—”
“Some one hit me on the nose and tumbled me down the hatch, first go off,” growled that worthy.
“That’s good,” said Sam. “Well, then, they’ve done for Dick Rolls, I know.”
“No they ain’t,” said the sailor, in an injured tone. “I got a chop on the head, and it’s bleeding fine, and I bolted down here. Where’s the good o’ you going and telling such lies, Mr Sam Oakum?”
“Well, third time never misses,” muttered Sam. “What’s come o’ Mr Jones?”
There was no reply here.
“He wouldn’t jyne the mutineers, would he?” said Sam after a pause.
“No,” said the captain sternly.
“Then it was him as they’ve cut down and chucked overboard.”
“Where are the other men?” said the captain, after a horrified pause caused by Sam Oakum’s announcement.
“Them as arn’t in the swim is down in the forksel,” said Sam, gruffly, “with all the chain cable piled atop on ’em, I expect; but it seemed to me as if the deck was swarming in the dark with fellows, all a trying to let daylight into your ribs.”