CHAPTER XXX
The Last of my Sworn Enemy
That same day the wind, hitherto mainly from the north'ard, suddenly changed, and blew freshly from the south-west. Nevertheless, as we were in the joint current caused by the union of the North Equatorial and the Canaries' Stream, our progress was slow.
Neither could we hope for long to be favoured by the breeze, as we were in the zone of the north-east Trades; so Captain Jeremy decided to skirt the windward side of the Lesser Antilles and the Bahama Islands, and thus gain the double advantage of the Gulf Stream and the prevailing south-westerly winds off the coast of North America. Having progressed thus far, the proposal at one time talked of to repair to Port Royal was given over, and our first place of call was to be the Bermudas.
'Enery was now relegated to the post of first mate. He seemed quite content with the reversal of his position, since he hoped, should he reach England safely, to purchase an interest in a ship, and sail in command.
I do not believe that there was a discontented man on the ship. Thanks to our good fortune, the individual share of the treasure would be considerable, and everyone was in high glee; and as each hour brought us nearer to Old England's shores, the men's spirits rose to such an extent that I wondered what they would be like when they set foot in Poole once more.
On the third day of our homeward voyage we were sailing close-hauled on the larboard tack, with the island of Barbuda just visible away to windward.
The day was hot and sultry, and, the breeze being light, the Golden Hope was barely doing more than two knots.
Suddenly there was a shout from the look-out on the fo'c'sle that a small craft was in sight. As this served to break the monotony, there was a rush for'ard to see what kind of vessel it might be.
"It's a deserted boat," exclaimed Clemens, who had snatched up a telescope. "At least, I can perceive no one in her."
As the Golden Hope was heading almost straight for the derelict, a very slight alteration in her course would bring her close alongside, so Captain Jeremy ordered this to be effected.
"There's a man in her, a-lyin' with his head over the side," shouted a seaman. "I can see him moving his arm."
"That is so," assented Captain Jeremy, after a prolonged examination through his glass. "A survivor of some wreck, I expect. Anyway, he'll be as dead as a marline-spike before we get alongside, if he remain like that, with the sun pouring on him."
"He's dead, right enough," said 'Enery, after a while. "'Tis the tossing of the boat that makes him move."
'Enery was right. Hanging over the gunwale, with one arm trailing in the water, was the corpse of a man. We could not see his face, but the nape of the neck was blackened from exposure to the sun. The arm moved sluggishly with every roll of the little craft, giving the corpse the appearance of being alive.
"Poor fellow! Starved to death, I take it," said Touchstone softly. "I've seen that sort of thing before to-day. Shall we run alongside, sir?"
"Aye," replied Captain Jeremy. "We might just as well, in case we can do anything."
Silence fell upon the crew as the Golden Hope crept slowly towards the floating monument of an ocean tragedy, till all at once the master gunner shouted:
"By Jove, that's one of our chests!"
We were now near enough to see over the gunwale as the boat rolled in the oily swell. Lashed amidships, 'twixt two of the thwarts, was one of the boxes we had made, ostensibly for the storing of the Madre treasure. Then, like lightning, the truth flashed across my mind: I was gazing at the corpse of Ned Slater.
The chest told a silent tale. The villain must have begun loading the boat directly the Neptune struck the reef; then, seeing that the ship was doomed, he sprang into the little craft, basely deserting his companions in crime. By some means the boat had escaped being swamped, and, offering little resistance to the wind, had been carried by the current in a northerly direction. When the gale died away, Slater must have prised open the lid of the chest to bloat over its contents, only to find a load of stones within. Either through the fury of his baffled hopes, or through the stern necessity of lightening the little craft, he had hurled the valueless cargo overboard, for the chest was empty. Helpless, and blown far from land, the villain had died a horrible death from slow starvation.
Springing into the fore chains, 'Enery, with boat-hook in hand, caught at the gunwale of the boat as it slowly drifted alongside. He made a sign to a couple of seamen, who, understanding, brought a heavy shot wrapped up in a piece of canvas. Nimbly dropping into the boat, one of the men quickly fastened the weight to the body of the ill-fated wretch; then, staving a plank with an axe, he sprang back into our fore chains.
'Enery disengaged the boat-hook, and ere the Golden Hope had drifted clear the boat sank beneath the waters of the Atlantic, and the body of my father's murderer disappeared from view till the time when the sea shall give up the dead that are in it.
I was glad that 'Enery had behaved thus. He had acted generously to the memory of a man who had done his best to raise his hand against every member of our crew. The rogue had paid the penalty and had received his deserts, though in my calmer moments I rejoiced that he had not met his death at my hands.
Soon after this gruesome incident we picked up a steady breeze that enabled us to make rapid progress, and seven days after leaving Treasure Island we crossed the Tropic of Cancer.
It was all plain sailing till we were within a few hundred miles of the Bermudas, when a heavy gale caused the main topmast of the Golden Hope to spring.
In this crippled condition the brig crawled into the harbour on whose shores the principal settlements are built, but ere we could effect repairs an awful hurricane, the worst I have ever met, or hope to meet, burst over the islands.
The storm came on quite suddenly, and almost before we had time to strike our still-standing fore-topmast, and veer out all our cable. Even in the comparatively sheltered harbour where we lay the sea was churned into a seething cauldron of foam, whilst ashore the damage was terrific. The lightly built huts of the settlers were unroofed and most of the trees blown down; and so great was the havoc wrought that 'twas a matter of difficulty to get our damaged topmast repaired till nearly six weeks after the storm.
While lying in harbour we learnt from an outward bound West Indiaman that things at home were in a very unsettled state, for almost all men were dissatisfied with King James.
Yet--so suspicious had Englishmen become of each other--we could gather no definite information, though many hints were thrown out concerning what we might expect to find on our arrival at home.
At length, on the second day of October, 1688, we weighed and set sail on the last stage of our homeward voyage, and late on the forenoon of the following day the last of the low-lying Bermudas was lost to view.
During the next three weeks nothing untoward occurred. The Golden Hope pursued her course over a seemingly boundless ocean, with never a sail to break the skyline, till, when, according to our reckoning, we were within ninety miles of Land's End, I was aroused just after midnight by the shout:
"A light on the starboard bow."
Gleaming faintly through the darkness, I could distinguish a small column of flame, apparently ten miles away, which faded and waxed stronger at close intervals.
"What d'ye make of it, sir?" asked 'Enery, as he and Captain Jeremy mounted the poop ladder to get a better view of the mysterious light.
"Make of it? Why, it can be but one thing. 'Tis a ship on fire."