Story 1--Chapter XXXVI.
Retribution.
The supreme moment seemed to have come, and with her heart beating furiously Hester made up her mind to make one more effort to reach the deck, shouting the while for help, and then if no other help came, she told herself that she could seek it in the sea.
Her hands clasped those of Bessy for a moment convulsively, and then dropping them, she stood upon her guard as the lock was shot back, the door was flung open, and in an instant Lauré caught her in his arms, when, as her lips failed to utter a shriek, there was a heavy fall on deck, the noise of feet hurrying to and fro, a crash, and with an oath Lauré rushed across the cabin, and Hester staggered back trembling into Bessy’s arms.
“What does it mean?” the latter whispered hoarsely.
“Help at last,” panted Hester, as the noise on deck increased. Shots were fired, there was another heavy full, and the clashing together of steel, followed by the voice of Lauré culling to his men to come on.
Before they dared to hope for safely, Dutch literally leaped down into the cabin, with a cutlass in his hand, followed by Mr Meldon, both men pale with excitement and stained with blood.
“Quick!” cried Dutch, catching his wife by one hand; “the scoundrels may prove too many for us.”
“Bessy, darling,” whispered Mr Meldon, hoarsely; and for a moment he folded her in his arms before leading her hastily on deck after Dutch, who had already hurried Hester below into the main cabin.
Bessy followed her on the instant, and the two men rushed forward again to where a desperate fight was going on, which resulted in Lauré and his party being driven below, but not until some severe wounds had been given on either side.
Then hatches were clapped on, and cables coiled over them, before the party dared to breathe freely and congratulate themselves on their success.
“It is more than I dared to hope for,” said Dutch, as they stood clustered round a lantern placed upon the deck, “for it was a bitter struggle.”
“Bitter, indeed,” said Mr Parkley, with a sigh. “I little thought our silver was going to be so stained with blood.”
“It may be all washed off yet,” said John Studwick, who was standing by, looking ghastly pale.
“What do you mean?” said his father.
“That you have not got it home yet,” was the reply; “and will not while that scoundrel is on board.”
“Then he shall not stay on board long,” exclaimed the captain, angrily. “There is the land, and a boat shall take him, and all he likes to claim as his followers, as soon as morning dawns.”
Hester shuddered as she crept close to her husband, and felt as if she could never cease to fear as long as the villain was at large; but his words comforted her, and for the rest of the night long careful watch was kept, and not without need, for several attempts were made by those below to force their way on deck.
Morning came, though, at last, as bright and sunny as if man never troubled the earth with his struggles, and as the sun arose the extent of the past night’s troubles were more clearly seen; for the doctor’s account showed that of their own party four had rather serious wounds, while two of the enemy lay dead, having succumbed to their injuries during the night.
To get rid of the dangerous party below was the next thing; and at last surrounding the forecastle hatch, the cable was cast off, and as soon as the opening was laid bare Lauré darted up, sword in one hand, pistol in the other, but Dutch seized one hand, Captain Studwick the other, and he was disarmed, and roughly thrown down into the little cabin from which Hester had been rescued, and the hatch secured.
Having now no leader, the other men came sulkily on deck, and gave up their arms without a struggle, and all were ordered over the side into the boat, a plentiful supply of beef and biscuit was furnished to them, with a couple of guns and ammunition, and they were rowed ashore, to make the best of their way to any settlement they could find.
“And now for the señor,” said Captain Studwick, as he returned with his well-armed party, after setting Lauré’s followers ashore.
“We must not set him ashore with those scoundrels,” said Dutch, firmly, “or he will contrive some plot to get back with them and retake the ship.”
Hester shuddered as she heard his words.
“What would you do, then?” exclaimed Mr Parkley.
“Keep him on board until we find some place to set him ashore, a couple or three hundred miles away—anywhere away from here.”
There was so much reason in Dutch’s words that it was decided to follow his advice, repugnant as it was to have the villain with them in the ship.
“And now then,” said the captain, “my motto is, homeward bound; though we cannot sail with wind and tide like this.”
“But we must not stay so near the land,” exclaimed Mr Parkley, glancing uneasily towards the sands, where the followers of the Cuban had been landed.
“I’m afraid we must,” was the reply; “but surely we can contrive to keep our prize, now we have got the upper hand.”
The feeling that they could neither sail nor get rid of Lauré acted like some great depressing influence on board, but the matter was inevitable, for to have set him ashore would have been like putting fire to gunpowder, which was safe enough left alone, so careful arrangements were made, and these being in the face of them thoroughly secure, a more satisfactory influence began to pervade the vessel, and the partners congratulated one another on the escape they had had.
As for Oakum and Rasp, they went from one to the other, chuckling and enjoying the interpretation that had been placed upon their behaviour, Oakum in particular seeming to think it the height of human enjoyment to have been thought such a scoundrel when he was straining every nerve to save his friends.
Night had fallen again, and to ensure against further surprise, Dutch, Mr Parkley, and the captain were all on deck, well-armed and watchful, meaning to keep their posts till daybreak, when the schooner was to start on the head of the tide.
Nothing more had been seen of the men set ashore, for they had plunged at once into the forest; and the Cuban was so well secured that little was to be feared from him; but all the same an uneasy feeling prevailed, and Dutch told himself that he should not feel satisfied till they were well at sea, and on reporting this to Mr Parkley, that individual replied:
“Neither shall I, Dutch Pugh, nor yet when we have got the treasure safe home; for you see if that scoundrel does not go to law. What’s that you say, Rasp?” he said, turning sharply, for the old man was close behind.
“Oh, don’t you take no notice of me. I was only chuntering to myself. I couldn’t help hearing what you said to Mr Pugh there.”
Almost contrary to their expectations, the night passed without any alarm, and at daybreak, the tide still not serving for a couple of hours, Dutch and his friends went to lie down, leaving the deck in charge of Oakum and Rasp, with instructions to call them at a specified time.
Dutch, however, felt that he could hardly have dropped asleep when a strange feeling of uneasiness came over him, and, reproaching himself for leaving the deck even now, he awoke fully to sit up and try to get rid of the confusion which oppressed him.
For a few moments he could not tell whether he was awake, or dreaming that he was once more busy diving, for there was the clanking of the air-pump, splashing of water beside him, and heavy feet passing overhead.
But it was no dream. Hardly had the deck been placed in charge of its deputies, than Rasp beckoned up ’Pollo and the two sailors who had been so faithful to them, and began to talk in a low voice, saying something which evidently gave them the greatest satisfaction, and Rasp softly chuckled and rubbed his hands as he turned to Oakum.
“I don’t like it,” said the old fellow; “it’s cowardly.”
“Not it,” said Rasp; “and if it is, what then? I only mean to give him a dose of it, and if he dies, why that’s his fault.”
“And ours,” said Oakum.
“Yah!” ejaculated Rasp. “Look here, old squeamish, that chap’s a tiger, and if he gets loose, he’ll be the death of all on us, won’t he?”
“Devil a doubt on it,” said Oakum.
“Very well, then: I’ve got a score to pay him off,” growled Rasp; “so’s them poor fellows who’ve got the mark of his knife on them; and, besides, I kep him from cutting my soots to pieces on purpose to give him a taste.”
“But it’s like murder,” said Oakum.
“It was like murder for him to cut that there chube when the best diver in England was down; and now we’ll see how he likes it.”
“What, and cut the toob?” said Oakum, with a look of horror on his honest face.
“Not I. I’ll only send the warmint down, and give him a quarter of an hour, that’s all.”
Oakum gave way, and felt a grim kind of satisfaction in helping to bring the Cuban on deck, where, in spite of his struggles, he was forced to assume one of the diving suits, and almost before he knew it the helmet was thrust over his head and secured, making him a complete prisoner, at the mercy of his tormentors.
“Now let the sharks have a go at him if they like,” said Rasp, as he forced the prisoner to the side. “I’ve a good mind not to give him a safety-line; but there, I won’t be shabby.”
As he spoke he secured the rope to the Cuban’s waist, and then, as he fully realised that they were going to send him overboard, he made a desperate struggle to free himself, but all in vain. There were five to one; the gangway was open, and, acting all together, Lauré was forced to the side, and fell backwards into the sea with a sullen plunge.