Story 1--Chapter XXXII.
Oakum’s Messenger.
Sam Oakum followed Dutch as he staggered back, his knife entangled in the loose jacket he wore, and, dragging it furiously out, he was going to strike again, when a couple of the sailors seized his arm, and, frowning and swearing, he allowed himself to be held back, while, panting and white with rage, Dutch exclaimed—
“Coward, as well as traitor, you will get your reward!”
“Here, let go, will you?” cried Sam, furiously, making a desperate effort to get free, but the men held on, and Lauré interposed—
“Let him go, Oakum, let him go,” he said, smiling with satisfaction. “You can serve him out by-and-by, as you call it—some day when he is diving,” he added, with a peculiar look.
Oakum gave a savage growl like that of a bear, and glared at Dutch, who was now half forced below, hurt in mind, but very slightly in body, for Oakum’s clumsy stab had gone between his ribs and arm, merely tearing his jacket.
Lauré gave his orders, then Oakum took the command, and, the men readily obeying, the anchors were hove up, and, after their long stay, the schooner sails were once more shaken out, and the vessel began to glide gently along through the limpid waters of the beautiful bay.
During the next two days the Cuban kept a suspicious watch over Sam, but as he went direct at his work with a good deal of ardour, and knocked ’Pollo down for coming up smiling at him, he rose greatly in Lauré’s favour; and on the third morning, when the Cuban came on deck and saw Sam busily scanning with his glass the shore along which they had coasted, he came and laid his hand upon his shoulder.
“You know the next place, then?” he said.
“Well, I dunno whether it’s the same as your’n,” said Sam, with a grin. “Mine lies just under that bit of an island off yon point.”
“Where the rocks lie piled up like an old castle, and there’s a little cove only about big enough to take this ship?” said the Cuban.
“That’s him, capen,” said Oakum, showing his yellow teeth. “Say, I think it ought to be another hundred bars, capen, for this.”
“Wait and see, my man. If it turns out as well as the last, I may behave handsomely to you; at any rate, if you serve me well, I shall not be shabby—handsome—shabby, that is what you say, is it not?”
“I say handsome,” said Oakum quietly, “never mind the shabby.”
That afternoon the schooner was comfortably moored over where the sunken vessel lay, and this time there was no difficulty in finding the place, for about six fathoms below the surface the black timbers could be seen, and the Cuban rubbed his hands with glee, telling Oakum that this would be the richest find, as it was here he had himself dived and obtained the ingots.
“And was the tother one of the places you knowed of?” said Sam.
“Yes,” replied the Cuban; “and I know of far more yet.”
“Didn’t you dive down at t’other place?”
“No,” said the Cuban, lighting a cigar. “I sent down a black, who was a splendid swimmer—one of my slaves.”
“Suppose he goes and clears off the silver unbeknownst to you?” said Sam, grinning.
“He will not do that,” said the Cuban, quietly exhaling a cloud of smoke.
“How do you know, capen?” said Oakum. “I never trusts niggers,” and as he spoke he scowled at ’Pollo, who was crossing the deck, and who slunk away.
“Because he is gone where I should send any man who was likely to prove treacherous to me,” said Lauré, in a low, hissing whisper. “That fellow began to talk too much, and one night he fell overboard—somehow. It is impossible to say how.”
The two men stood gazing in each other’s eyes for a few moments, and then the Cuban added slowly—
“I never boast, and I never forgive. A man is a fool to his own interests who tries to escape me. Your worthy employers thought that they had quite got rid of me, and had the field open to themselves. You see where they are? Now, if such a man as that old Rasp were to play fast and loose with me, that old man would die. Don’t tell him I said so; it would make him uncomfortable, and it is better a man should not know that he is likely to die. Take a cigar, my good friend Oakum.”
“Thanky, no, capen, I always chews,” said Sam; and then, as the other moved and went forward, Sam added, “He’s a devil, that’s what he is—a devil.”
Old Rasp was sitting on a coil of rope close at hand polishing up one of the helmets ready for the morrow’s use, and just then the two men’s eyes met, and a peculiar wink was exchanged, but they did not speak; and the rest of the evening was spent in making preparations for the morrow’s descents.
Since he had been on deck, Sam Oakum had once or twice seen a little canary, one that Mr Wilson used to pet a good deal, feeding it and training it so that it would sit on his finger, and feed from his hand, and this bird set him thinking.
Quite half the birds were dead, but there were several surviving, thanks to ’Pollo, who had given the little things seed and water, and cleaned out their cages. He had begun to talk to Oakum about them, but the old sailor turned upon him savagely.
“You go and attend to your pots and pans,” he roared, “you black lubber;” and ’Pollo shrunk from him with a frightened, injured air; and as the black crept away Oakum suspected that the Cuban was close at hand, as he always was whenever either of the seceded party spoke together.
“Poor old ’Pollo!” said Sam to himself, as he sat down opposite the cage and began thinking.
“Now, I wonder, little matey,” he said softly, “whether, if I let you loose, you’d find your master, and take him a message.”
He sat thinking for a while, and then shook his head.
“No, I’m sartain it wouldn’t do; no, not even if you could talk like a poll parrot.”
He strolled on deck, and saw that there was a sentry by the broken skylight and another by the cabin hatch, and this was always the case, for the Cuban kept up the strictest discipline, one so perfect that if anything like it had been the rule under Captain Studwick the vessel could not have been taken.
Sam watched his opportunity, too, when the prisoners came on deck, but he soon found that any attempt to obtain a word with either, even if they had not avoided his glance, would have been fatal to the enterprise which he had in hand.
“I shall have to take to the bird,” he said at last, and at daybreak the next morning he opened its cage door, and the little thing flitted out upon deck, and seemed thoroughly to enjoy its liberty, flying into the rigging, chirping, and ending by descending the cabin hatch, attracted thereto by a peculiar whistle, but after a time it came up again, suffered itself to be caught and replaced in its cage.
“That’ll do,” said Sam to himself, and he went about his work, while that morning the whole of the diving apparatus was rigged up, and Rasp carefully inspected the ground.
“It’s all right,” he said to the Cuban. “Now, then, have ’em up. Here, let’s send old Parkley down.”
Mr Parkley was summoned on deck, and his first idea was to refuse to descend.
“You’d better go down,” said Rasp grinning. “If you don’t go with the soot on it’s my belief that you’ll have to go down without.”
There was no help for it, and he put on the diving-dress and went down, Dutch being summoned on deck directly after, to find Lauré and his men all armed; and he felt that resistance was vain, and he, too, went down, and then with Mr Parkley worked to clear away the sand and weeds that had collected in the hold of the vessel.
A few ingots were found and sent up directly, but it was evident to both, as they compared notes, that the work of many days must follow before they could get at the bulk of the treasure that lay below.
And so another day passed, Dutch still finding, to his delight, as he went below, that the desire for the treasure was still the prominent feeling in Lauré’s mind.
The next morning, at daybreak, Mr Wilson was first astir, and Dutch had just joined him to sit by the cabin window and enjoy the fresh morning breeze, which was deliciously cool, when a bright, sharp chirp was heard, and the canary flew down through the broken skylight and alighted on the table.
“Dick, Dick!” cried Mr Wilson, with the tears of joy in his eyes, “pretty Dick;” and the little thing flew on to his finger, turning its head first on one side and then on the other, as it looked up in his face with its bright beady eye.
“What’s that under its wing?” said Dutch, sharply.
“Paper,” was the reply; and, sure enough, tightly tied beneath the little pinion was a tiny piece of doubled-up paper, which, on being opened out, bore these words in pencil:
“Keep a steady hand at the wheel, and wait. Friends on board. Work and wait.”
“Can that mean treachery?” said Dutch doubtfully; and, going to their berths, he read the words softly to the captain and Mr Parkley, and asked their opinions as well as that of the doctor.
“No,” said the latter; “that’s no treachery, but from a friend.”
“I see it all,” whispered Dutch, with his face flushed with joy.
“What do you mean?” said the captain.
“I knew old Oakum and Rasp could not be such scoundrels. Their behaviour was all a blind. They are our friends.”
“That must be it,” acquiesced the others; and it was decided not to send any message back, but to let the bird go.
This was done, and that day the divers steadily worked on with old Rasp, who was closely watched by the Cuban, tyrannical to a degree, while Oakum never once looked at them.
Sand, rock, and what was harder to move, namely, masses of coral, were dragged away that day, and the Cuban’s impatience was somewhat alleviated on the sight of a few more stray ingots, forerunners of what he hoped to get later on, and again night put an end to their labours, the tired divers, who on this day had been helped by the captain, doctor, and naturalist, all working like common sailors, and watched by armed men.
They were up and waiting beneath the cabin skylight the next morning before the day broke, and once more came the bird with a welcome message.
It was very brief, but it gave them hope in the midst of their despair, for it ran as follows:—
“You’ll get no more writing, for it ar’n’t safe-like, friends working for all on you. Never mind, lads, watch under cabin light till something comes.”
This was enigmatical, but it set them on their guard, and they worked that day more cheerfully, feeling that a plot must be on foot for their rescue, Dutch’s only fear, as he gazed at the two women, being that it might come too late.
That night Dutch, weary as he was, himself watched beneath the cabin hatch, but many weary hours passed without anything but the talking of the watch being heard; and at last he felt that at all hazards he must sleep, when he started, for something round and soft suddenly fell through the open light upon his head, and feeling about on the floor his hand came into contact with a handkerchief, in which something soft was tied up. A powder evidently—yes, gunpowder.
He stood pondering with about a couple of pounds of the combustible in his hand, thinking of what power it would have if exploded, and longing for the battery and the dynamite cartridges, as he thought that if matters came to the worst he would blow up the ship sooner than the women should suffer insult.
During the next few days the diving work progressed steadily, and, with the exception of a few interruptions by sharks, all went well; but not the slightest sign struck Dutch as evincing a desire on the part of Rasp or Oakum to make any communication, and both he and his friends were puzzled, wondering which of them would be the faithful one, for they felt that they would be too sanguine if they imagined that both were on their side, though Mr Parkley was as convinced that Rasp was at work for them as Dutch was that it was Oakum.
All the while both were working hard in their interest to contrive the re-capture of the ship, but the difficulty was that the whole party were so watched that they could find no means of communication, but still they hoped.
Oakum had found where the arms were stowed in the fore cabin, which Lauré had taken for his own use, and which he shared with one of the men, whom he seemed to trust entirely, but who was a thoroughly drunken scoundrel, and who used to make Mr Meldon’s blood boil by the way he used to stand and watch Bessy Studwick whenever she was on deck in the evening, for Lauré had insisted that the women should share his prisoners’ walk for a couple of hours each day.
“If I could get at those tools,” thought Oakum, “and pass ’em down, we should be all right, and might make the scoundrels shake in their shoes.” But no opportunity occurred, and the glorious bright days glided by.
The treasure had been thoroughly reached at last, and in a hopeless way Dutch and Mr Parkley worked on, bullied sharply by Rasp, who threatened short supplies of air if more work were not done, and the consequence was that an immense treasure in silver bars was recovered, though for the most part terribly corroded and mingled with calcareous matter.
At last the time arrived when Mr Parkley came up announcing that the last ingot had been found, and that nothing remained but the black and rotting wood.
“Nonsense,” exclaimed Lauré angrily; “there must be hundreds more. Here, you Pugh, it is your turn to go down now. Make a good search, and don’t come back till you have found more.”
The eyes of the two men encountered as Lauré spoke, and a strange foreboding feeling came over Dutch as he slowly made his preparations. It seemed to him that it was quite possible, now the treasure of two sunken galleons had been recovered, Lauré might forego further search, having determined to make sure of his find, and if this were the case, the young man argued, he might now begin to put in force some of his former tactics. What if he were now to try to get rid of him for Hester’s sake—for the sake of the woman who had repelled all his advances, but who was now completely in his power.
True he had hardly noticed her of late, but there was that in the Cuban’s eyes that told of smothered volcanic passion that might at any moment burst into flame, and Dutch felt that if he escaped from injury that evening he would try and bring forward the plot that must be now nearly ripe, and strike before it was too late.
There were men on board who would, after the first blow was successfully struck, he argued, be ready to side with the victorious party, irrespective of whom it might be, and this blow must be struck, and at once, before it was too late.
He was brought back to the realities of his position by a few sharp words from Lauré, supplemented by a brutal jerk from Rasp, while as he secured portions of his waterproof dress, and glanced round the deck, everything seemed to be imprinted on his brain with vivid force. There was the last heap of wet silver, mingled with stone, shell, and seaweed, the little streams of water trickling from it to the scuppers, and there by the pump, which it had become their duty to work, were the captain, the doctor, and Mr Wilson, while just emerging from the cabin, and supporting John Studwick each by a hand, came Hester and Bessy to lead the invalid to a seat by the side.
Dutch saw Lauré’s eyes flash as Hester came on deck, and the young man’s veins tingled with rage.
But he was helpless, and could only obey. And, besides, he felt that this was no time for annoyance coming to his young wife; so, exchanging glances with her, and trying to impart confidence in her breast, though he felt none, he prepared to go down.
But first he took one glance round at the beautiful sea and shore, and then, with the foreboding of coming danger on the increase, he assumed his helmet; it was roughly secured by Rasp; and he walked to the ladder at the side with the old fellow guiding him.
As he turned to place his feet on the steps, it might have been imagination, but certainly Rasp looked at him through the glass windows of the helmet in a peculiar way, and more significant still the young man felt the life-line thrust into his hand.
“Then there is danger,” thought Dutch, as he lowered himself down, and his heart began to beat violently; but as his head disappeared beneath the surface of the water, and the old familiar sensations of diving were experienced, he began to smile at his terrors, and to accuse himself of want of manliness.
“Rasp’s rough behaviour is all a blind to throw dust in Lauré’s eyes, and the look and the significant placing of the life-line in my hands means that something is to take place to-night.”
He was convinced of this now, and reaching the bottom he took up an iron rod, and began to move slowly about over the rotten timbers that had been uncovered, and to probe and search in all directions. The sand had been cleared out of the vessel all but amidships, and there they had at the first attempt come upon remains that showed how a large number of the crew must have been below deck when the ship sunk; and as the silver seemed to lie away from here, Dutch and Mr Parkley had agreed to leave the bones buried in the sand where they lay; but now that this imperative order had come from their taskmaster Dutch took the piece of iron, and began to search with it by thrusting it down into the sand.
He shuddered as he did so, for he could tell that it certainly came in contact with buried bones, sometimes, by the feel, with a skull, and several times he left off with a shudder, resuming his task in a hopeless way, and wondering whether success were to attend their effort, and when it would be made.
Just then the recollection of the rich treasure in gold that was known only to himself came to his mind, and he smiled as he thought of what would be Lauré’s feelings if he knew what had been left behind. And as he thought of this, he thrust the iron rod down once more, and his heart began to beat again, for, unless he was much mistaken, there beneath the remains of the former occupants of the galleon lay just such a receptacle as the one he had formerly found.
He probed again and again, making deep holes in the sand, which were filled up directly he withdrew the rod; and now, marking out the spot, he became convinced, not that it was gold, but that another goodly treasure of metal lay beneath the sand.
It were all plain enough, just a square receptacle, all metal, he believed gold, but certainly silver was there, and as soon as he thrust the probe down outside that square it went down, down through wood and sand to any depth.
“It is another treasure of gold,” exclaimed Dutch, and his words sounded strangely to him as they were spoken in the hollow of his helmet, and he paused to consider whether he should announce his discovery, or keep it secret like the last.
“It shall be a secret,” he said. “We may live to survive this unfortunate voyage, and if we do, may come again, for here is what would recompense us for all our pains, and it is no uncertainty; no, there is the treasure, and—”
He signalled sharply for more air, looking up through the clear bright sunlit water, and as he did so feeling that the supply was stopped, he saw that the long india-rubber tube had been cut, and was sinking slowly towards him, like some strange grey snake.