Story 1--Chapter XXXV.
Prisoners.
Meanwhile, to Hester’s horror, she found that they were to be prisoners in Lauré’s cabin, and that the drunken scoundrel who shared it with him kept coming down blinking and leering at them, making their very blood run cold.
His offensive manner was, however, for the time stopped by the Cuban, who came down, and pointing to the inner cabin bade them go in there.
Their only course was to obey, and the two trembling women crouched together, dreading the coming night, and yet hoping that some successful effort would be made for their release.
“Let us hope and pray, Bessy,” said Hester, trying to be cheerful, in spite of her misery. “Dear old Rasp’s words were not uttered without meaning.”
“But is he to be trusted?” sobbed Bessy; “he was with our enemies.”
“Trusted? yes,” cried Hester; “his behaviour must have been to deceive the wretches, and he and old Oakum are working for our release.”
“If I could only be as hopeful as you are, Hester.”
“I am full of hope now,” cried Hester. “I can wait, and feel strong and full of energy, with my husband’s trust. Time back I could have died in my misery.”
As the hours passed on, they could hear the Cuban and his companion talking in the next cabin, and the clink of glasses told that they were drinking.
All on deck was very still. They had heard the sounds of preparation till nightfall, and then everything became very quiet; and, clinging together, the two women sat with every sense on the strain, listening for the danger they knew to be at hand, while they hoped for the rescue that might come.
It grew rapidly dark, and their cabin was only lit by the gleams that came beneath and through a few ventilation holes in the door, a glance through which, once timidly taken, showed the Cuban drinking heavily with his companion, who grew more stupid and riotous, while the only effect upon Lauré was to make his eyes glow as he sat glancing from time to time at the door.
Every now and then, too, some allusion to the prisoners made the women’s hearts palpitate with horror, and more than once Hester glanced at the little window as if through that she must seek for the help that was so long in coming, for that she knew would be protection from the outrage she dreaded for them both.
Neither spoke now of their fear, but clung the closer as they listened, till suddenly they heard Lauré rise and go on deck, when their breathing became more even, and they sighed with relief.
But hardly had the Cuban’s foot left the steps, when his companion raised his head from the table where he had been simulating sleep, and glancing round for a moment he rose and came to the inner cabin door, opened it, and thrust in his head.
“Come here, my birdie,” he said thickly. “One of you has got to be my wife, and let’s see, you’re the captain’s,” he continued with a hoarse laugh, as he thrust Hester aside and caught Bessy in his arms, holding her tightly in spite of her struggles, till she uttered a long and piercing shriek.
The next moment there was a rapid step on the stairs and the Cuban rushed savagely into the cabin, sword in hand.
He made for the ruffian who held Bessy, but as soon as he realised whom the scoundrel had, he uttered a hoarse laugh, and, as if incited by his companion’s example, he threw the sword upon the table, and caught Hester in his arms.
For a few moments she struggled hard, but her strength failed; and as she felt how powerless she was becoming, she tried to shriek, but, as if prepared for this, Lauré, laughing, placed one hand upon her lips, while the other clasped her to him so tightly that she could not move.
Just then, however, Bessy, who had been struggling long and bravely with her assailant, uttered a series of piercing screams, freed herself from his grasp, and, half-mad with fear and horror, threw her arm round Hester.
“Curse you, you noisy jade,” cried the Cuban, furiously; and he struck her brutally across the mouth with the back of his hand as he released Hester, who sank shivering on the cabin floor.
“Here, come away, now,” cried the Cuban, sharply; and, thrusting his companion before him, he hurried out and secured the door, leaving the two prisoners sobbing in each other’s arms, while the light through the holes in the door streamed in long rays above their heads.
Hester was the first to recover herself, and she rose and tried to comfort her stricken companion, than whom now she seemed to be far the stronger in spirit.
“Help must come soon, Bessy,” she whispered. “They will have heard our screams.”
“It would be better to die,” sobbed Bessy. “There is no hope—no hope whatever.”
“What!” cried Hester. “No hope? And with my brave, true husband on board? I tell you help will come, and soon.”
“When it is too late,” sobbed Bessy. “Those wretches will soon be back.”
“Hush, listen,” whispered Hester; and she stole to the door to peep through one of the holes, and see the drunken ruffian sitting there with his head down upon the table, apparently asleep.
The Cuban had evidently gone on deck, and, nerved now to take some desperate course, Hester stole back to where Bessy crouched.
“Get up—quickly,” she whispered. “We must escape from the place now.”
“But where, where, unless overboard?” wailed Bessy.
“To the deck—to the other cabin. They will fight for us. Dutch will save us from another such outrage as this.”
Bessy rose up directly, endeavoured to be firm, but she tottered, and had to cling to the slighter woman.
They stood by the door while Hester tried it, but their hearts sank as they found that they were more of prisoners than they imagined, for the door was fastened on the outside, while to make their position more painful there were no means of securing it from within.
All seemed very still; so still, in fact, that they could hear plainly the heavy breathing of the ruffian who was sleeping there alone; and as they stood trembling and listening it seemed as if a light step was coming down the cabin stairs.
It came so cautiously and stealthily that they did not dare to move lest they should not hear it. For a moment Hester was tempted to change her position, and gaze through the door, but a slight clicking noise arrested her, and she remained listening and hopefully considering whether this could be some of the promised help.
All was silent again for a time, and then there was another strange click, and something fell upon the floor, as if a sword had been knocked down.
This was followed by a sharp rustling noise, and the sleeping ruffian rose up, growled loudly, pushed the lamp on one side, so that it creaked over the table, and then seemed to lay his head down again, and began to breathe heavily.
A minute or two that seemed an hour passed away, and still the two women listened, feeling certain that help was coming, especially as the rustling noise once more commenced; and then, as they waited longingly for the unfastening of their prison door, they plainly heard the Cuban’s step on the deck, and directly after he began to descend.
Their hearts sank as they heard him coming, and they shrank away from the door, when, to their surprise, just as they were about to attribute the sounds they had heard to fancy, there was a flash as if the lamp had been raised from the table, a heavy blow, a crash as of breaking glass, and a tremendous struggle ensued in what was evidently total darkness, for the lamp had been overturned, and not a gleam shone through the door.
Oaths and curses mingled with the struggling noises which fell upon the trembling women’s ears as the two men engaged, crashed against the bulkheads, and once came so violently against the door of communication that they threatened to break it in.
This lasted for about five minutes, when the Cuban’s voice was heard shouting for lights.
The noise of the struggle had now ceased, and Hester found courage enough to look through the door, as a gleam of light shone through; and she saw three sailors entering the cabin with a lantern, which cast its light upon the bruised and bleeding face of the Cuban, who was kneeling on the chest of the ruffian who had been sleeping in the cabin.
“The drunken fool flew at me as I came in,” exclaimed Lauré, savagely.
“I didn’t,” growled the fellow. “You hit me on the head with the lamp.”
“You knocked it over in your drunken sleep,” shouted Lauré. “Here, get up: you shall stay here no longer. Go and sleep on deck.”
The man rose in a heavy, stupid way, and, muttering to himself, left the cabin and went on deck, while, under the Cuban’s orders, the men who had come down fetched another lamp, and cleared away all the traces of the struggle.
It was now evidently long past midnight, and as soon as Lauré was left alone, Hester and her companion began to tremble once more for their fate.
The Cuban was evidently restless and uneasy, for he kept getting up and walking to the stairs and listening, as if in doubt; but as an hour glided by, and all seemed perfectly still, he remained longer in his seat, and at last, as Hester watched him, she saw his glance turned towards the inner cabin, and to her horror he rose and, with a peculiar smile upon his face, came and laid his hand upon the lock of the door.