CHAPTER XXII.
MAD!
Inside the hut ran a long table on trestles; upon that table were platters and drinking vessels; on it also were some dried fruits, some pieces of dirty, coarse bread, and also some scraps of jerked beef, or, as 'tis called here in the Caribbee-Indian, Boucan; and that, with the exception of some drink in a tub, was all!
There was no steaming turtle or other savoury viands, neither were there any women, golden-haired or others, nor a nest of pirates. Besides Alderly himself, there was in the hut no living soul that I could see. He was alone!
Yet, in front of the table, there lay something on which my eyes could not but fasten, the long box, in which I did believe the stolen treasure was. And also by its side were three bags, or sacks, bulging out full of coin--I could see the impress made upon the canvas by the pieces within--and these I did guess had never come out of the wreck we had been fishing on. They were, I thought--and found afterwards that my thoughts were right--spoils from some others than us. The plunder of another foray!
But at the time I could do nought but watch the great villain, the creature whom I could not deem aught but mad, or, at least, mad from the drink.
His eyes glistening and rolling like a maniac's, he sat in the middle of the table, gibbering and grimacing to either side of him, as if the companions he had named were there; now shouting out a toast, then banging on the table with both his fists, then seizing a can or mug in each of them; next calling out in a deep voice "huzza, huzza," and then altering it to the shrill one of a woman doing the same thing.
Next, he would seize the scooper of the liquor tub, and, with clumsy bows to the empty chairs or stools, for such indeed they were, would fill the glasses standing on the table in front of those chairs, though they being already full he did but pour liquor upon liquor until the whole table streamed with it. Then, for variety, he would tear with his fingers a piece of Boucan off, and with solemn gravity lay it on some tin plates near him, saying to the vacant space behind the plate:
"Barbara, my sweet, 'tis the choicest piece of the haunch; I beseech of you to taste a little more"; or, "Coleman, my fat buck, take a bit more of your own kind," and so forth. Or he would crumble off a bit of his dirty, frowsy bread, and, with his filthy hands putting of it in his mouth, would say, "The turtles' eggs are at their best now. 'Tis the season. Ha! They are succulent!" Then he would drink a deep draught of the spirits by him, call a toast, and begin his bawlings and clappings again.
To see the ruffian sitting there in the half-dim light--for his lamp was none of the best--grimacing and gibbering to vacancy, and addressing people who existed not, was to me a truly awful, nay, a blood-creeping sight! For now I knew what I had before me. I knew that this pirate, this man, whose hands still reeked with the blood of his comrade--one of those whom he had but recently called on them to drink a toast to--was mad with long-continued drinking and p'raps scarce any food since they left the reef; that, indeed, he had the horrors, called by the learned, the "Delirium."
Still, all was not yet at its worst, as I found out and you shall see.
Meanwhile, amidst his bellowings and howlings, which I need not again write down, since they varied not, I pondered on what I must do. I had the fellow caged now; if he attempted to come out of the hut I was resolved to shoot him down or run him through as I would a mad dog; indeed, any way, I was determined now to be his executioner. He was a pirate, a thief who had caused us of the Furie much trouble and loss of good life--and here I thought of Israel Cromby and my other poor men, all dead!--also he was a secret murderer. He must die by my hand--but it must not be now when he was mad. I was ordained to be his executioner, I felt, but I would not be a secret murderer myself also. No! not unless I was forced to it.
But, still, I decided now to advance in upon him--the position I was in was cramped and painful; the hut would be better than this, with now many night dews arising from the soil and enveloping of me, and--if the worst came to the worst--I would knock him on the head and secure him. Also, I remembered, I had the treasure to secure. So I moved into the path, rounded it, and, pistol in hand, advanced towards the door of the hut, and, standing in it, regarded him fixedly.
At first he saw me not. The light was growing dimmer, so that to me he looked more like the dull, cloudy spectre of a man than a man itself as he sat there--perhaps, too, I, with nought behind me but the dark night, may have looked the same to him. Then, as he still sat talking to an imaginary figure behind him, his conversation running on the drinking and carousing he and his supposed comrade had once evidently had on the coast of Guinea, I said, clearly though low--
"Alderly, you seem gay to-night, and entertain good company."
In truth, there was no intention in my heart to banter the man or jest with such a brute, only I had to let him know of my presence there, and one way seemed to me as good as another.
Instead of starting up, as I had thought he might do, and, perhaps, discharging a pistol at me, he turned his head towards the door, put that head between his two hands, and peered between them towards where I stood.
"Who is't?" he asked. "I cannot see you. Is it Martin come back from the isles with the sloop?"
This gave me an idea that there were some comrades expected--perhaps from some other villainies! but I had just now no time for pondering on such things, so I replied:
"No, 'tis not Martin. But, 'Captain' Alderly, you should know me; you drank a health to me not long ago. I am Lieutenant Crafer of the Furie."
"I do not know you," he replied; "I never heard of you. Yet you must be dry in the throat. Come in and drink."
In other circumstances I might have thought this to be a ruse--now I could not deem it such. Beyond all doubt he was mad--my only wonder was that such a desperado should not be more ferocious. Perhaps, however, this might be to come.
I sat me down opposite to him and regarded him fixedly in that gloomy light, and it seemed as though I brought by my presence some glimmer of reason to the wandering brain.
"Crafer!" he exclaimed. "Ah yes, Crafer! Drink, Crafer, drink. So thou hast join'd us. 'Tis well, and better than serving Phips. We have more wealth here than ever Phips dreamed of--if we could but get it away. Away! Yes! away! What might we not do if we could but get it to England! We might all be gallant, topping gentlemen with coaches and horses, and a good house, and see ridottos and--but stay, Crafer, you must know my friends." And here the creature stood upon his feet--I standing, too, not knowing but what he was going to spring at me, though he had no such intention--and began naming his phantom friends to me and presenting them, so to speak.
"This," says he, "is Peter Hynde, a gay boy and a good sailor. Also he is our musicianer of nights--he singeth too a sweet song. Stand up, Hynde, and make your service. And this is Will Magnus, with a good heart, but ever lacking money till he joined us. A brave lad! 'Tis he who has cut many a throat! Barbara, my dear, throw thy golden mane back and kiss the brave gentleman--she was but a child, sir, when we found her, yet now, now, she--Ha! again that wound! How the thrust of the steel bites!"
He sank back into his chair, and tore at his damask waistcoat and then at his ruffled shirt--yellow with dirt and spilt drink, and dabbled with thick bloodstains--and so, opening of his bosom, there I did see a great gash just over the heart, in his left pap.
And I wondered not now that he was mad with the drink and the fever of his wound; the wonder was more that he was not quite dead.
He sat a-gazing at this, with his eyes turned down upon it, and muttered,
"One gave it me as from that accursed galliot, as they boarded. It seemed I had gotten my death. Ah! how it burns, how it throbs! Barbara! Black Bess! hast thou no styptic for stopping of this flux, no balm for this pain? Ha! No? Then give me drink, drink; 'tis the best consoler of all, the best slayer of pain." And here he seized his ladle, filled a glass from the tub, and drained it at a gulp. Then he wandered on again: "Barbara, get you up to the chirugeon at Kingston; tell him I am sore wounded."
"Jamaica is far away from here," I said to him. "Barbara will scarce bring you aught from the pharmacie there to-night." Then, bending forward to him across the table, I said, "Alderly, you are wounded to the death; that stab and your drinkings have brought you to the end, or nearly so. Tell me truly, did this," and I kicked the box at my feet, "and these bags of coin come from the plate-ship? Tell me!"
He peered at me through the deepening gloom made by the expiring lamp, as though his senses were returning and he knew me, and muttered:
"More--more--than the plate-ship--this is a treasure house--" and then, suddenly, he stopped and, pointing a shaking finger over my head, stared as one who saw a sight to blast him, and whispered in a voice of horror:
"Look! look! behind you. God! I stabbed him thrice. Yet now he is come back. See him, look to him at the open door. 'Tis Winstanley, the diver of Liverpool. Ah! take those eyes away from me--away--away! 'Twas your hand did it, not mine," and with a shriek the wretch buried his head in his own hands.
That the murdered diver was not there I did know very well, yet the ravings of the man, the melancholy of the hut in the wood, the dimness of the lamp, all made my very flesh to creep, and instinctively I did cast my eye over my shoulder, seeing, as was certain, nought but the moon's flood pouring in at the door. Yet I shivered as with a palsy, for though no ghost was there all around me was ghostly, horrible!
With a yell Alderly sprang to his feet a moment after he had sunk his head in his hands; his looks were worse now than before, his madness stronger upon him; great flecks of foam upon his lips, and from his wound the blood trickling anew.
"Away! away!" he shouted. Then moaned. "Those eyes! those eyes! They scorch my very soul. Away!" And he cowered and shrank, but a minute later seemed to have recovered his old ferocity. "Begone!" he now commanded the spectre of his distorted vision. "Begone!" and with that he rushed forward, forgetting in his madness the table was betwixt him and his fears, and knocking it over in the rush.
And with it the lamp went too. Only fortunately it was at its end, there was no longer any oil in it--otherwise the hut would have been burnt to the ground.
But all was now darkness save for the moonlight on the floor within and on the brushwood without, and, as Alderly recovered himself from his entanglement with the fallen table and trestles, I could see it shining upon his glaring, savage eyes. And he took me--I having been knocked to the door by the crash--for the ghost of the diver, the spirit he feared so much.
"Peace, you fool!" I exclaimed, "there is no spirit here, nought worse than yourself. And stand back, or, by the God above, I will blow your frenzied brains out," and as I spoke, I drew a pistol, cocked it and covered him.
With a howl he came at me, missing my fire in his onward rush, dashing the pistol from my hand with a madman's force, and, seizing me round the waist, endeavoured to throw me to the earth. Yet, though I had no frenzy, I too was strong, and I wrestled with him, so that about the hut we went, knocking over first the tub of liquor with which the place became drenched, and falling at last together on the ground. And all this time, Alderly was cursing and howling, sometimes even biting at me, and tearing my flesh with his teeth, especially about the hands, and gripping my throat with his own strong hands--made doubly strong because of his frenzy. I smelt his hot, stinking, spirit-sodden breath all over me; I could even smell the filth of his body as he hissed out:
"I ever hated you, Winstanley; I hated you when I made your own hands slay you. I hated you in life, I hate you now in death. And as I slew you in life, again will I slay you in death."
Then at this moment he gave a yell of triumph. His hand had encountered the hilt of my sword, and drawing it forth from its broken sheath, he shortened it to plunge it into my breast.
But as he did so I got one of my hands released. I felt for my other pistol, I cocked it with my thumb, when, ere I could fire, the cutlash dropped from Alderly's hand and he sprang to his feet, his hands upon his wound.
"See," he whispered now, "there be two Winstanleys: one here--one coming through the wood. Are there any more--?"
Staggering, he stood glaring forth into the wood through the open door, seeing another spectre, as he thought, there; then slowly he sank to the ground, letting his hands fall away from the gash in his breast, from which the tide now ran swiftly.
"Oh, agony! agony!" he moaned. "Can one live and feel such pain as this. Nay! this is death. Barbara, draw near me. Listen. This hut is full of spoil--beneath--none know but I--all mine--now all yours. The other is buried--elsewhere--Oh! God--the agony! Barbara--rich--rich--for life--lady--fortune--give me drink--drink--" Then once more singing in a broken voice,
"When money's--plenty--boys--we drink To drown--"
he fell back moaning again.
And so he died.