“I have, I believe, to thank you, doctor,” he said, politely, as he came in. “You were one of those who rescued me.”
“Yes,” I answered. “I found you on board the old ship, the Seahorse, and we took you with us to the steamer.”
“Ah!” he sighed. “I had a narrow escape, doctor—a very narrow escape. I’ve been mad, they say. It’s true, I suppose, otherwise I should not be here, in an asylum. But I assure you I recollect very little after I boarded that coffin-ship.”
I watched his dark eyes. They were no longer shifty, but calm and steady. He was quite sane now, and had at Macfarlane’s invitation seated himself between us.
“We are all very much interested in you,” I said. “Will you tell me the whole story?”
“Well, I can’t talk very plainly, you know, but I’ll try and explain everything,” he said. Then with a renewed effort he went on: —
“It is no sailor’s yarn, but the truth, even though it may sound a remarkable story. You see, it was like this. I’d been at sea all my life, and in Liverpool Bob Usher, first mate of the City of Chester, was well known twelve years ago. Like a good many other men I got sick of my work, and in a fit of anger with the skipper I deserted in Sydney. After the City of Chester had sailed for home I joined another steamer, the Goldfinch, bound for Shanghai, but instead of putting in there we ran up the Chinese coast, and when a couple of cannon were produced and the forecastle hands armed themselves with rifles and cutlasses, the truth dawned upon me. It was not long before we painted our name on the bows, and commenced doing a bit of piracy among the junks. Our quick-firing guns, manned by old naval men, played havoc among the Chinese boats, and before a fortnight we had quite a cargo of loot—silks, ivories, tea, opium, and such things—all of which we ran to Adelaide, where the skipper disposed of them to one of those agents who asked no questions.
“At first I had thoughts of leaving the ship, for I had no desire to be overhauled by a British cruiser, nor to be sunk as a pirate. Still, the life was full of excitement, and the hands were as adventurous and as light-hearted a crew as ever sailed the Pacific. Although the gunboats were constantly on the lookout for us, we had wonderful good luck. In the China seas there is still a lot of piracy, mostly by the Chinese themselves, but sometimes by European steamers. We always gave the British squadron a very wide berth, constantly changing our name and altering the colour of our funnel. This went on for nearly a year, when at last the chase after us grew a bit too hot, and we sailed out of Perth for Liverpool. We had rounded the Cape and were steaming up the West Coast of Africa, when one day a Danish seaman named Jansen made a trifling mistake in executing one of the captain’s orders. The skipper swore, the Dane answered him back, whereupon the captain shot the poor fellow like a dog, and with the aid of the second mate pitched him to the sharks before he was dead. This was a bit too much for me. I remonstrated at such cold-blooded murder, but scarcely had the words left my mouth when the captain, Bennett by name, fired point-blank at me.”
“Bennett!” I ejaculated, interrupting. “Do you mean Black Bennett?”
“Yes. The same man,” he answered. “Do you know the brute?”