Roger sprang for more brandy, and lifted the poor fellow’s head, but he appeared lifeless. Roger wetted his lips with the spirit, and presently they parted sufficiently to enable the lad to pour a little into his mouth. This was gradually swallowed, and Roger poured in a little more, which was also taken; and in a few seconds a heavy sigh escaped the lips of the sufferer, and his eyes opened. But there was a glaze over them that told its own tale. The white lips opened, and Roger, bending down, heard the last words that Evans ever spoke.
“God bless you, sir,” he said, “and keep you safe! Keep your promise to me, sir. Good-bye! I die now, and am glad!” The eyes went duller still, the lips ceased to move, the body seemed to stiffen, and grew suddenly cold. Roger knew that the end had come, that the poor fellow’s troubles were at last over, and that he was at rest.
Roger remained for some moments sitting, and lost in thought; then, rising, he placed the blanket over the dead man’s face and went outside the hut. He determined to go and find his two sailors, and inform them of what had happened, so that they might come and assist him in burying the body at once; for in that climate it was necessary to bury a body as soon as possible after death, for sanitary reasons.
The lad had not gone very far from the hut when he remembered that he was still holding the packet of papers in his hand; so he slipped them into the pocket where he always kept the other cipher. But as he did so he paused for a moment and then drew the papers forth again, determined there and then to compare the two ciphers, for he felt almost positive in his own mind that the two ciphers would be found to be identical. He therefore sat down at the foot of a palm-tree in the shade, and, undoing the packet, compared the two papers, finding, as he anticipated, that the ciphers were written in exactly the same terms. “Therefore,” thought Roger, “the spy of Alvarez managed after all to evade the musket-balls fired at him, and succeeded in conveying the cipher to Alvarez. No wonder that the Spaniard was so anxious to find his papers that day in the cabin of the Gloria del Mundo!”
Having satisfied himself on this point, he returned the papers to his pocket, buttoned up his jacket again, and continued on his way to find the sailors. They presently made their appearance, thus saving him the trouble of searching for them, and he saw that they were laden with as much fish as they could carry. They explained that they had caught far more than was necessary for present use, but that they intended to try the experiment of drying it in the sun, even as they had done with the turtle’s flesh, thus—in the event of success—providing a store of food against any contingency that might arise.
Roger, of course, returned with the men, and on the way back recounted to them the fact of poor Evans’s death, and of his desire to bury the body at once.
The three were soon back at the hut, and, choosing a spot at some distance from it, dug a grave in the sand with sharpened pieces of wood, as they had no other implements. The hole having presently been made sufficiently deep, they returned to the palm-grove, and laying a blanket on the floor, placed the inanimate body thereon. Then, Bevan taking one end of the blanket and Irwin the other, they carried the corpse away to its lonely grave, and reverently laid it therein. This done, Roger, kneeling by the grave-side, said a prayer, whilst the seamen stood by with bared heads, after which the sand was shovelled back, and a small mound raised over the grave.
The death of Evans affected the three survivors more or less during the remainder of the day; they were all very silent and thoughtful, and turned in early to sleep. About midnight Roger awoke with a vague sense of some impending evil. He turned and turned again upon his hard couch, but found it impossible to sleep. After a time he began to feel that there was a something missing to which he had been accustomed. He racked his brain over and over again, vainly trying to remember what it was, but for some time without success. Then it came suddenly upon him that the usual faint reflection of the glow which the big fire at the beach had been wont to throw round the hut was absent. Quickly getting into a few clothes, he stepped out of the hut, and saw that the moon in her first quarter was rising high in the heavens, giving just sufficient light for him to distinguish objects faintly. He therefore did not take the lantern with him, but at once walked away down to the beach, where he found the fire out and cold. They had forgotten to replenish it before turning in for the night. He took out his tinder-box, in order to get a light, when he happened to look up, and to seaward. And there, before his astonished gaze, he saw a vessel riding at anchor about two miles from the shore. In the first paroxysm of his joy, Roger was about to call aloud, imagining the craft to be one of the vessels of Cavendish’s squadron; but on looking again, and studying the craft more closely, he saw that she was altogether different from any of the vessels in the fleet. He was wondering who or what she could be, when Evans’s description of a certain ship flashed across his mind. Yes, there she certainly was, exactly as Evans had described—the black, long, and low-lying hull, the flush deck, the schooner rig, and the enormously tall, tapering, and raking spars! Yes, in that moment Roger knew her for what she was.
She was the pirate schooner of José Leirya!
The man had doubtless missed his papers, and, guessing who had taken them, had come back to secure them. Evidently knowing the bad landing, Leirya was waiting for daylight before attempting to send his boats ashore.