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Wolves of the Sea

by Randall Parrish · English · Gutenberg #10210 · 537,603 chars · public domain (US)

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Title: Wolves of the Sea

Author: Randall Parrish


        
Release date: November 1, 2003 [eBook #10210]
                Most recently updated: October 28, 2024

Language: English

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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WOLVES OF THE SEA ***

WOLVES OF THE SEA

Being a Tale of the Colonies From the Manuscript of One Geoffry
Carlyle, Seaman, Narrating Certain Strange Adventures Which Befell Him
Aboard the Pirate Craft "Namur"


BY RANDALL PARRISH


Author of "When Wilderness Was King," "The Last Voyage of the Donna
Isabel" "Beyond the Frontier" "Contraband" etc.


Frontispiece By FRANK E. SCHOONOVER


1918




FOREWORD

Anson Carlyle, aged twenty-three, the ninth in descent from Captain
Geoffry Carlyle, of Glasgow, Scotland, was among the heroic Canadian
dead at Vimy Ridge. Unmarried, and the last of his line, what few
treasures he possessed fell into alien hands. Among these was a
manuscript, apparently written in the year 1687, and which, through
nine generations, had been carefully preserved, yet never made public.
The paper was yellowed and discolored by years, occasionally a page
was missing, and the writing itself had become almost indecipherable.
Much indeed had to be traced by use of a microscope. The writer was
evidently a man of some education, and clear thought, but exceedingly
diffuse, in accordance with the style of his time, and possessing
small conception of literary form. In editing this manuscript for
modern readers I have therefore been compelled to practically rewrite
it entirely, retaining merely the essential facts, with an occasional
descriptive passage, although I have conscientiously followed the
original development of the tale. In this reconstruction much
quaintness of language, as well as appeal to probability, may have
been lost, and for this my only excuse is the necessity of thus making
the story readable. I have no doubt as to its essential truth, nor do
I question the purpose which dominated this rover of the sea in his
effort to record the adventures of his younger life. As a picture of
those days of blood and courage, as well as a story of love and
devotion, I deem it worthy preservation, regretting only the
impossibility of now presenting it in print exactly as written by
Geoffry Carlyle.

_R.P._




CONTENTS

I Sent into Servitude

II The Prison Ship

III Dorothy Fairfax

IV The Shores of Virginia

V The Waters of the Chesapeake

VI Fairfax Speaks with Me

VII The Lieutenant Unmasked

VIII A Victory, and a Defeat

IX A Swim to the _Namur_

X On the Deck of the _Namur_

XI The Return of the Boat

XII A Friend in the Forecastle

XIII I Accept a Proposal

XIV I Warn Dorothy

XV The Cabin of the _Namur_

XVI In Dorothy's Stateroom

XVII A Murder on Board

XVIII A New Conspiracy

XIX Laying the Trap

XX The Deck Is Ours

XXI In Full Possession

XXII The Crew Decides

XXIII The Prisoners Escape

XXIV In Clasp of the Sea

XXV The Open Boat

XXVI A Floating Coffin

XXVII On Board the Slaver

XXVIII A New Plan of Escape

XXIX A Struggle in the Dark

XXX Opening the Treasure Chest

XXXI The Boat Attack

XXXII The Last of the _Namur_

XXXIII Before the Governor




WOLVES OF THE SEA




CHAPTER I


SENT INTO SERVITUDE


Knowing this to be a narrative of unusual adventure, and one which may
never even be read until long after I have departed from this world,
when it will be difficult to convince readers that such times as are
herein depicted could ever have been reality, I shall endeavor to
narrate each incident in the simplest manner possible. My only purpose
is truth, and my only witness history. Yet, even now lately as this
all happened it is more like the recollections of a dream, dimly
remembered at awakening, and, perchance, might remain so, but for the
scars upon my body, and the constant memory of a woman's face. These
alone combine to bring back in vividness those days that were--days of
youth and daring, of desperate, lawless war, of wide ocean peril, and
the outstretched hands of love. So that here, where I am writing it
all down, here amid quietness and peace, and forgetful of the past, I
wander again along a deserted shore, and sail among those isles of a
southern sea, the home for many a century of crime and unspeakable
cruelty. I will recall the truth, and can do no more.

I can recall that far-away dawn now as the opening portals of a
beautiful morning, although at the time my thought was so closely
centered upon other things, the deep blue of the sky, and the
glimmering gold of the sun scarcely left an impression on my mind. It
was still early morning when we were brought out under heavy guard,
and marched somberly forth through the opened gates of the gaol. There
had been rain during the night, and the cobble-stones of the village
street were dark with moisture, slipping under our hob-nailed shoes as
we stumbled along down the sharp incline leading to the wharf. Ahead
we could perceive a forest of masts, and what seemed like a vast crowd
of waiting people. Only the murmur of voices greeting us as we
emerged, told that this gathering was not a hostile one, and this
truth was emphasized to our minds by the efforts of the guard to
hasten our passage. That we had been sentenced to exile, to prolonged
servitude in some foreign land, was all that any of us knew--to what
special section of the world fate had allotted us remained unknown.

In spite of curses, and an occasional blow, we advanced slowly,
marching four abreast, with feet dragging heavily, the chains binding
us together clanking dismally with each step, and an armed guard
between each file. Experiences have been many since then, yet I
recall, as though it were but yesterday, the faces of those who walked
in line with me. I was at the right end of my file, and at my shoulder
was a boy from Morrownest, a slim, white-faced lad, his weak chin
trembling from fear, and his eyes staring about so pleadingly I spoke
a word of courage to him, whispering in his ear, lest the guard behind
might strike. He glanced aside at me, but with no response in the
depths of his eyes, in which I could perceive only a dumb anguish of
despair. Beyond him marched Grover, one time butcher at Harwich, a
stocky, big-fisted fellow, with a ghastly sword wound, yet red and
unhealed on his face, extending from hair to chin, his little pig eyes
glinting ugly, and his lips cursing. The man beyond was a soldier, a
straight, athletic fellow, with crinkly black beard, who kept his eyes
front, paying no heed to the cries. The guard pressed the people back
as we shuffled along, but there was no way of keeping them still. I
heard cries of encouragement, shouts of recognition, sobs of pity, and
occasionally a roar of anger as we passed.

"Good lads! God be with yer!"

"Thet one thar is sore hurted--it's a damn shame."

"Thar's Teddy--poor laddie! Luck go with yer, Teddy."

"Ter hell with Black Jeffries, say I!"

"Hush, mon, er ye'll be next ter go--no, I don't know who sed it."

"See thet little chap, Joe; lots ther lad bed ter do with the war."

"They all look mighty peaked--poor devils, four months in gaol."

"Stand back there now. Stand back!"

The guards prodded them savagely with the butts of their musketoons,
thus making scant room for us to shuffle through, out upon the far end
of the wharf, where we were finally halted abreast of a lumping brig,
apparently nearly ready for sea. There were more than forty of us as I
counted the fellows, and we were rounded up at the extremity of the
wharf in the full blaze of the sun, with a line of guards stretched
across to hold back the crowd until preparations had been completed to
admit us aboard. As those in front flung themselves down on the
planks, I got view of the brig's gangway, along which men were still
busily hauling belated boxes and barrels, and beyond these gained
glimpse of the hooker's name--ROMPING BETSY OF PLYMOUTH. A moment
later a sailor passed along the edge of the dock, dragging a coil of
rope after him, and must have answered some hail on his way, for
instantly a whisper passed swiftly from man to man.

"It's Virginia, mate; we're bound fer Virginia."

The ugly little pig eyes of the butcher met mine.

"Virginia, hey?" he grunted. "Ye're a sailorman, ain't ye, mate? Well,
then, whar is this yere Virginia?"

The boy was looking at me also questioningly, the terror in his face
by no means lessened at the sound of this strange word.

"Yes, sir, please; where is it, sir?"

I patted him on the shoulder, as others near by leaned forward to
catch my answer.

"That's all right, mates," I returned cheerfully. "It's across the
blue water, of course, but better than the Indies. We'll fall into the
hands of Englishmen out there, and they'll be decent to us."

"But whar is the bloomin' hole?"

"In America. That is where all the tobacco comes from; likely that
will be our job--raising tobacco."

"Have ever yer bin thar?"

"Ay, twice--and to a land beyond they call Maryland. Tis a country
not so unlike England."

"Good luck that then; tell us about it, matie."

I endeavored to do so, dwelling upon what I remembered of the
settlements, and the habits of the people, but saying little of the
great wilderness of the interior, or how I had seen slaves toiling in
the fields. The group of men within range of my voice leaned forward
in breathless attention, one now and then asking a question, their
chains rattling with each movement of a body. The deep interest shown
in their faces caused me unconsciously to elevate, my voice, and I had
spoken but a moment or two before a hard hand gripped my shoulder.

"Yer better stow that, my man," growled someone above me, and I looked
up into the stern eyes of the captain of the guard "or it may be the
'cat' for ye. Yer heard the orders."

"Yes, sir; I was only answering questions."

"Questions! What the hell difference does it make to this scum whar
they go? Do yer talkin' aboard, not here. So ye've been ter the
Virginia plantation, hev ye?"

"Twice, sir."

"As a sailor?"

"In command of vessels."

His eyes softened slightly, and a different tone seemed to creep into
his voice.

"Then ye must be Master Carlyle, I take it. I heerd tell about ye at
the trial, but supposed ye ter be an older man."

"I am twenty-six."

"Ye don't look even thet. It's my notion ye got an overly hard dose
this time. The Judge was in ill humor thet day. Still thet's not fer
me ter talk about. It's best fer both of us ter hold our tongues. Ay,
they're ready fer ye now. Fall in there--all of yer. Step along, yer
damn rebel scum."

We passed aboard over the narrow gang-plank, four abreast, dragging
our feet, and were halted on the forward deck, while artificers
removed our chains. As these were knocked off, the released prisoners
disappeared one by one down the forward hatch, into the space between
the decks which had been roughly fitted up for their confinement
during the long voyage. As my position was in one of the last files, I
had ample time in which to gaze about, and take note of my
surroundings. Except for the presence of the prisoners the deck
presented no unusual scene. The _Romping Betsy_ was a large,
full-rigged brig, not overly clean, and had evidently been in
commission for some time. Not heavily loaded she rode high, and was a
broad-nosed vessel, with comfortable beam. I knew her at once as a
slow sailor, and bound to develop a decidedly disagreeable roll in any
considerable sea. She was heavily sparred, and to my eye her canvas
appeared unduly weather-beaten and rotten. Indeed there was
unnecessary clutter aloft, and an amount of litter about the deck
which evidenced lack of seamanship; nor did the general appearance of
such stray members of the crew as met my notice add appreciably to my
confidence in the voyage.

I stared aft at the poop deck, seeking to gain glimpse of the skipper,
but was unable to determine his presence among the others. There were
a number of persons gathered along the low rail, attracted by the
unusual spectacle, and curiously watching us being herded aboard, and
dispatched below, but, to judge from their appearance, these were
probably all passengers--some of them adventurers seeking the new land
on their first voyage, although among them I saw others, easily
recognized as Virginians on their way home. Among these I picked out a
planter or two, prosperous and noisy, men who had just disposed of
their tobacco crop, well satisfied with the returns; some artisans
sailing on contract, and a naval officer in uniform. Then my eyes
encountered a strange group foregathered beside the lee rail.

There were four in the little party, but one of these was a negress,
red-turbaned, and black as the ace of spades, a servant evidently,
standing in silence behind the others. Another was clearly enough a
Colonial proprietor, a heavily built man of middle age, purple faced,
and wearing the broad hat with uplifted brim characteristic of
Virginians. I passed these by with a glance, my attention
concentrating upon the other two--a middle-aged young man, and a young
woman standing side by side. The former was a dashing looking blade,
of not more than forty, attired in blue, slashed coat, ornamented with
gilt buttons, and bedecked at collar and cuffs with a profusion of
lace. A saffron colored waist-coat failed to conceal his richly
beruffled shirt, and the hilt of a rapier was rather prominently
displayed. Such dandies were frequently enough seen, but it was this
man's face which made marked contrast with his gay attire. He was
dark, and hook-nosed, apparently of foreign birth, with black
moustache tightly clipped, so as to reveal the thin firmness of his
lips, and even at that distance I could perceive the lines of a scar
across his chin. Altogether there was an audacity to his face, a
daring, convincing me he was no mere lady's knight, but one to whom
fighting was a trade. He was pointing us out to his companion,
apparently joking over our appearance, in an endeavor to amuse.
Seemingly she gave small heed to his words, for although her eyes
followed where he pointed, they never once lighted with a smile, nor
did I see her answer his sallies. She was scarcely more than a girl,
dressed very simply in some clinging dark stuff, with a loose gray
cloak draping her shoulders, and a small, neat bonnet of straw perched
upon a mass of coiled hair. The face beneath was sweetly piquant, with
dark eyes, and rounded cheeks flushed with health. She stood, both
hands clasping the rail, watching us intently. I somehow felt as
though her eyes were upon me, and within their depths, even at that
distance, I seemed to read a message of sympathy and kindness. The one
lasting impression her face left on my memory was that of innocent
girlhood, dignified by a womanly tenderness.

What were those two to each other? I could not guess, for they seemed
from two utterly different worlds. Not brother and sister surely; and
not lovers. The last was unthinkable. Perhaps mere chance
acquaintances, who had drifted together since coming aboard. It seems
strange that at such a moment my attention should have thus centered
on these two, yet I think now that either one would have awakened my
interest wherever we had met. Instinctively I disliked the man, aware
of an instant antagonism, realizing that he was evil; while his
companion came to me as revealment of all that was true and worthy,
in a degree I had never known before. I could not banish either from
my mind. For months I had been in prison, expecting a death sentence,
much of the time passed in solitary confinement, and now, with that
cloud lifted, I had come forth into a fresh existence only to be
confronted by this man and woman, representing exact opposites. Their
peculiarities took immediate possession of a mind entirely unoccupied,
nor did I make any effort to banish them from my thought. From the
instant I looked upon these two I felt convinced that, through some
strange vagary of fate, we were destined to know more of each other;
that our life lines were ordained to touch, and become entangled,
somewhere in that mystery of the Western World to which I had been
condemned. I cannot analyze this conception, but merely record its
presence; the thought took firm possession of me. Under the
circumstances I was too far away to overhear conversation. The
shuffling of feet, the rattling of chains, the harsh voices of the
guard, made it impossible to distinguish any words passing between the
two. I could only watch them, quickly assured that I had likewise
attracted the girl's attention, and that her gaze occasionally sought
mine. Then the guards came to me, and, with my limbs freed of fetters,
I was passed down the steep ladder into the semi-darkness between
decks, where we were to be confined. The haunting memory of her face
accompanied me below, already so clearly defined as to be
unforgettable.

It proved a dismal, crowded hole in which we were quartered like so
many cattle, it being merely a small space forward, hastily boxed off
by rough lumber, the sides and ends built up into tiers of bunks, the
only ventilation and light furnished by the open hatch above. The
place was clean enough, being newly fitted for the purpose, but was
totally devoid of furnishings, the only concession to comfort visible
was a handful of fresh straw in each bunk. The men, herded and driven
down the ladder, were crowded into the central space, the majority
still on their feet, but a few squatting dejectedly on the deck. In
the dim twilight of that bare interior their faces scarcely appeared
natural, and they conversed in undertones. Most of the fellows were
sober and silent, not a bad lot to my judgment, with only here and
there a countenance exhibiting viciousness, or a tongue given to
ribaldry. I could remember seeing but few of them before, yet as I
observed them more closely now, realized that these were not criminals
being punished for crime, but men caught, as I had been, and condemned
without fair trial, through the lies of paid informers. I could even
read in their actions and words the simple stories of their former
lives--the farm laborer, the sailor, the store-keeper, now all on one
common level of misfortune and misery--condemned alike to exile, to
servitude in a strange land, beyond seas.

The ticket given me called by number for a certain berth, and I sought
until I found this, throwing within the small bundle I bore, and then
finding a chance to sit down on the deck beneath. The last of the
bunch of prisoners dribbled down the ladder, each in turn noisily
greeted by those already huddled below. I began to recognize the
increasing foulness of air, and to distinguish words of conversation
from the groups about me. There was but little profanity but some
rough horse-play, and a marked effort to pretend indifference. I could
make out gray-beards and mere boys mingling together, and occasionally
a man in some semblance of uniform. A few bore wounds, and the clothes
of several were in rags; all alike exhibited marks of suffering and
hardship. The butcher from Harwich, and the white-faced lad who had
marched beside me down the wharf, were not to be seen from where I
sat, although beyond doubt they were somewhere in the crowd. The hatch
was not lowered, and gazing up through the square opening, I obtained
glimpse of two soldiers on guard, the sunlight glinting on their guns.
Almost immediately there was the sound of tramping feet on the deck
above, and the creaking of blocks. Then a sudden movement of the hull
told all we were under way. This was recognized by a roar of voices.




CHAPTER II

THE PRISON SHIP


The greater portion of that voyage I would blot entirely from memory
if possible. I cannot hope to describe it in any detail---the foul
smells, the discomfort, the ceaseless horror of food, the close
companionship of men turned into mere animals by suffering and
distress, the wearisome days, the black, sleepless nights, the
poisonous air, and the brutality of guards. I can never forget these
things, for they have scarred my soul, yet surely I need not dwell
upon them now, except as they may bear some direct reference to this
tale I seek to tell. As such those weeks cannot be wholly ignored, for
they form a part of the events to follow--events which might not be
clearly understood without their proper picturing.

We were fifty-three days at sea, driven once so far to the southward
by a severe storm, which struck us the second day out, as to sight the
north coast of Africa before we were able to resume our westward
course. To those of us who were tightly shut into those miserable
quarters below these facts came only as floating rumors, yet the
intense suffering involved was all real enough. For forty-two hours we
were battened down in darkness, flung desperately about by every mad
plunge of the vessel, stifled by poisoned air and noxious odors, and
all that time without a particle of food. If I suffered less than
some others it was simply because I was more accustomed to the sea. I
was not nauseated by the motion, nor unduly frightened by the wild
pitching of the brig. Lying quietly in my berth, braced to prevent
being thrown out, amid a darkness so intense as to seem a weight,
every sound from the deck above, every lift of the vessel, brought to
my mind a sea message, convincing me of two things--that the _Romping
Betsy_ was a staunch craft, and well handled. Terrific as the gale
became I only grew more confident that she would safely weather it.

Yet God knows it was horrible enough even to lie there and listen, to
feel the hurling plunges downward, the dizzy upsweeping of the hull;
to hear the cries, groans and prayers of frightened men, unseen and
helpless in the darkness, the creaking timbers, the resounding blows
of the waves against the sides, the horrid retching of the sick, the
snarling, angry voices as the struggling mass was flung back and
forth, the curses hurled madly into the darkness. They were no longer
men, but infuriated brutes, so steeped in agony and fear as to have
lost all human instincts. They snarled and snapped like so many
beasts, their voices unrecognizable, the stronger treading the weaker
to the deck. I could not see, I could only hear, yet I lay there,
staring blindly about, conscious of every horror, and so weak and
unnerved as to tremble like a child.

Yet the complete knowledge of what had actually occurred in that
frightful hole was only revealed when the violence of the storm
finally ceased, and the guards above again lifted the hatch. The gray
light of dawn faintly illumined the inferno below, and the sweet
breath of morning air swept down among us. Then I saw the haggard,
uplifted faces, the arms tossed aloft, and heard the wild yell as the
stronger charged forward struggling for the foot of the ladder. The
place was a foul, reeking shambles, so filthy as to be positively
sickening, with motionless bodies stretched here and there along the
deck. Sailors and guards fought their way down among us, driving back
the unarmed wretches who sought to oppose their progress, while others
bore to the deck above those who were too helpless to rise. There were
five dead among them, and twice as many more who had lost
consciousness. These were all removed first and then, feeling helpless
to resist the rush, the others were permitted to clamber up the
ladder. Surging out upon the deck, we were hurdled against the lee
rail, menaced by leveled guns, and thus finally fed, while the filthy
quarters below were hastily cleansed.

It was a dark, lowering morning, the desolate sea still threateningly
rough, the heavy clouds hanging low. The _Romping Betsy_ was hove to,
under bare poles, a bit of the jib alone showing, with decks and spars
exhibiting evidence of the terrific struggle to keep afloat. I never
witnessed wilder pitching on any vessel, but the fresh air brought new
life to the wretches about me, and a species of cheerfulness was
quickly manifested. Bad as the food was we ate it gladly, nor did the
memory of the dead, already laid out on the main deck, long depress
us. Why should we mourn for them? We scarcely knew any among them by
name, and, facing the uncertainty of our own fate, each man secretly
felt that these had possibly found the easier way. Our own misery was
now greater than theirs. So we hung on to whatever would help us to
keep erect, and ate the food given us like famished animals. Rough and
threatening as the surroundings still were, I was seaman enough to
realize that the backbone of the storm had broken, and so rejoiced
when the skipper ordered sail set. In a few moments the brig was once
again headed on a westerly course, and riding the heavy seas much more
steadily.

We were permitted to remain on deck scarcely more than an hour, and
during that time only a very few passengers made their appearance aft.
Although watching eagerly I perceived no flutter of a skirt in the
wind, but the Spanish looking man emerged from below, and clung to the
rail for several minutes before we were ordered from deck. He spoke
with the Captain, pointing and gesticulating, and the few detached
words blown to me on the wind were sufficient to convince me that the
fellow knew ships and the sea. I had thought him a mere dandy, but now
saw in him harder stuff, even getting close enough to learn that he
had visited America before, and possessed knowledge of its shores and
currents. Ay, and he spoke English well, with never pause for a word,
even to terms of seamanship a bit obscure.

The next few days, while uneventful, sufficed to make our discipline
complete, obedience being roughly enforced by blows and oaths. At
first a spirit of resistance flamed high, but the truly desperate
among us were few, and without leadership, while the majority were
already thoroughly cowed by months of imprisonment. Left to
themselves the more reckless and criminal were soon obliged to yield
to force, so that nothing more serious resulted than loud talk and
threats. The hatch above remained open, but carefully guarded night
and day, while we were permitted on deck for air and exercise only in
squads of ten, two hours out of every twenty-four. This alone served
to break the dread monotony of the voyage, for while we almost
constantly encountered baffling head winds, no other storm of any
magnitude obstructed our passage. The brig carried heavy canvas, and
the skipper loaded her with all she could bear, but at that she was a
slow sailor, dipping so deeply in a seaway as to ship considerable
water even in quiet weather. From our exercise on deck we generally
returned below drenched to the skin, but glad to even pay that price
for two hours of fresh air, and an opportunity to gaze about at sea
and sky. There was little else to witness, for in all the long voyage
we encountered but one vessel in that desolate ocean, a French armed
corvette, fairly bristling with guns, which ran in close enough to
hail us, but seemed satisfied to permit us to pass unvisited. I clung
to the rail and watched its white sails disappear until they resembled
the wings of gulls, feeling more than ever conscious of our
helplessness. There were few among the prisoners I had any desire to
companion with--only two, as I recall now--a law clerk from Sussex, a
rather bright young fellow, but full of strange notions, and an older
man, who had seen service in Flanders. We messed together, and pledged
mutual friendship in the new land, a pledge not destined to be
fulfilled, as I never again saw nor heard of the former after we went
ashore, and the last glimpse I had of the older man was as he was
being loaded into a cart bound for some interior plantation. God grant
they both lived, and became again free men.

How those sodden hours and days dragged! How long were those black
nights, in which I lay sleepless, listening to indescribable noises,
and breathing the rank, poisonous air. The short time passed on deck
was my only solace, and yet even there I found little to interest,
except a continuous new hope. We were herded well forward, a rope
dividing us from the main deck, which space the passengers aft used as
a promenade. Here, between the foremast and the cabin, someone was
strolling idly about most of the time, or lounging along the rail out
of the sun. In time I came to recognize them all by sight, and
learned, in one way or another, something of their characteristics,
and purpose in taking this voyage. They were not an unusual lot, the
majority planters from the Colonies homeward bound, with occasionally
a new emigrant about to try for fortune beyond seas, together with one
or two naval officers. There were only three women aboard, a fat
dowager, the young lady I had noticed at embarkation, and her colored
maid. Many of the days were pleasant, with quiet sea and bright
sunshine, and the younger woman must have passed hours on deck during
so long and tedious a voyage. Yet it chanced I saw almost nothing of
her. I heard her presence on board discussed several times by others
of our company, but it somehow chanced that during my time in the open
she was usually below. Indeed I gained but one glimpse of the lady in
the first two weeks at sea, and then only as we were being ordered
down to our quarters for the night. Just as I was approaching the
hatch to descend, she appeared from within the cabin, accompanied by
the middle-aged planter, and the two advanced toward the rail. The
younger gallant, who was standing there alone, saw them the moment
they emerged, and hastened forward, bowing low, hat in hand. She
barely recognized him, her gaze traveling beyond the fellow toward the
disappearing line of prisoners. It was an evening promising storm,
with some motion to the sea, and a heavy bank of clouds visible off
the port quarter, brightened by flashes of zigzag lightning. The brig
rolled dizzily, so the cavalier sought to steady her steps, but she
only laughed at the effort, waving him aside, as she moved easily
forward. Once with hand on the rail, she ignored his presence
entirely, looking first at the threatening cloud, and then permitting
her gaze to rest once more upon the line of men descending through the
hatch.

It had become my turn to go down, yet in that instant our eyes met
fairly, and I instantly knew she saw and recognized me. For a single
second our glances clung, as though some mysterious influence held us
to each other--then the angry guard struck me with the stock of his
piece.

"What er ye standin' thar fer?" he demanded savagely. "Go on
down--lively now."

I saw her clasping fingers convulsively grip the rail, and, even at
that distance, marked a sudden flame of color in her cheeks. That was
all her message to me, yet quite enough. Although we had never spoken,
although our names were yet unknown, I was no criminal to her mind,
no unrecognized prisoner beneath contempt, but a human being in whom
she already felt a personal interest, and to whom she extended thought
and sympathy. The blow of the gun-stock bruised my back, yet it was
with a smile and a light heart that I descended the ladder, deeply
conscious of a friend on board--one totally unable to serve me,
perhaps, yet nevertheless a friend. Even in our isolation, guarded in
those narrow quarters, much of the ship gossip managed in some way to
reach our ears. How it drifted in was often a mystery, yet there was
little going on aboard we failed to hear. Much of it came to us
through those detailed to serve food, while guards and sailors were
not always averse to being talked with. We always knew the ship's
course, and I managed to keep in my mind a very dear idea of how the
voyage progressed. Not a great deal of this gossip, however, related
to the passengers aft, who kept rather exclusively to themselves, nor
did I feel inclined to question those who might have the information.
I had no wish to reveal my interest to others, and so continued
entirely ignorant of the identity of the young woman. She remained in
my memory, in my thoughts nameless, a dream rather than a reality. I
did learn quite by accident that the gay gallant was a wealthy
Spaniard, supposedly of high birth, by name Sanchez, and at one time
in the naval service, and likewise ascertained that the rotund
planter, so evidently in the party, was a certain Roger Fairfax, of
Saint Mary's in Maryland, homeward bound after a successful sale of
his tobacco crop in London. It was during his visit to the great city
that he had met Sanchez, and his praise of the Colonies had induced
the latter to essay a voyage in his company to America. But strange
enough no one so much as mentioned the girl in connection with either
man.

Thus it was that the _Romping Betsy_ drove steadily on her way into
the west, either battered by storm, or idly drifting in calm, while
life on board became a tiresome routine. The dullness and ill
treatment led to trouble below, to dissatisfaction and angry outbreaks
of temper. The prisoners grew quarrelsome among themselves, and
mutinous toward their guards. I took no part in these affairs, which
at one time became serious. Two men were shot dead, and twice
afterwards bodies were carried up the ladder at dawn, and silently
consigned to the sea. No doubt these tales, more or less exaggerated,
traveled aft, and reached the eager ears of the passengers. They began
to fear us, and consequently I noticed when on deck the promenade once
so popular during the earlier days of the voyage, was almost totally
deserted during our hours of recreation. So, with mutiny forward, and
fear aft, the lumbering old brig, full of tragedy and hopeless hearts,
ploughed steadily onward toward the sunset.




CHAPTER III

DOROTHY FAIRFAX


We were not far from two hundred miles east of the Capes, or at least
so one of the mates told me, gruffly answering a question, and it was
already growing twilight, the sun having disappeared a half hour
before. There was but little air stirring, barely enough to keep the
sails taut, while the swell of the sea was sufficient to be
uncomfortable, making walking on the deck a task. We were wallowing
along amid a waste of waters, the white-crested waves extending in
every direction to the far horizons, which were already purpling with
the approach of night. I had been closely confined to my bunk for two
days with illness, but now, somewhat stronger, had been ordered on
deck by the surgeon. The last batch of prisoners, after their short
hour of recreation, had been returned to the quarters below, but I was
permitted to remain alone undisturbed. I sat there quietly, perched on
a coil of rope, with head just high enough to permit an unobstructed
view over the side.

The deck aft was almost deserted, the passengers being at supper in
the cabin. I could glimpse them through the unshaded windows, seated
about a long table, while occasionally the sound of their voices
reached me through the open companion-way. The mate was alone on the
poop, tramping steadily back and forth, his glance wandering from the
sea alongside to the flapping canvas above, but remained silent, as
the brig was on her course. Once he clambered down the side ladder,
and walked forward, shouting out some order to a group of sailors
under the lee of the forecastle. It was on his return that I ventured
to question him, and was gruffly answered. Something I said however,
gave him knowledge that I was a seaman, and he paused a moment more
civilly before resuming his watch, even pointing out what resembled
the gleam of a distant sail far away on our starboard quarter. This
was such a dim speck against the darkening horizon that I stood up to
see better, shadowing my eyes, and forgetful of all else in aroused
interest. Undoubtedly it was a sail, although appearing no larger than
a gull's wing, and my imagination took me in spirit across the leagues
of water. I was still standing there absorbed, unaware even that the
mate had departed, when a voice, soft-spoken and feminine, broke the
silence.

"May I speak with you?"

I turned instantly, so thoroughly surprised, my voice faltered as I
gazed into the upturned face of the questioner. She stood directly
beside me, with only the rope barrier stretched between us, her head
uncovered, the contour of her face softened by the twilight. Instantly
my cap was off, and I was bowing courteously.

"Most certainly," with a quick side glance toward the guard, "but I am
a prisoner."

"Of course I know that," in smiling confidence. "Only you see I am
rather a privileged character on board. No one expects me to obey
rules. Still that does not apply to you, does it?" hesitating
slightly. "Perhaps you may be punished if you talk with me--is that
what you meant?"

"I am more than willing to assume the risk. Punishment is no new
experience to me; besides just now I am on sick leave, and privileged.
That accounts for my being still on deck."

"And I chanced to find you here alone. You have been ill?"

"Not seriously, but confined to the berth for a couple of days. And
now the doctor prescribes fresh air. This meeting with you, I imagine,
may prove even of greater benefit than that."

"With me? Oh, you mean as a relief from loneliness."

"Partly--yes. The voyage has certainly proven lonely enough. I have
made few friends forward, and am even bold enough to say that I have
longed for a word with you ever since I first saw you aboard."

"Why especially with me?"

"Rather a hard question to answer at the very beginning," I smiled
back at her. "Yet not so difficult as the one I shall ask you. Except
for a fat matron, and a colored maid, you chance to be the only woman
on board. Can you consider it unnatural that I should feel an
interest? On the other hand I am only one of fifty prisoners, scarcely
cleaner or more reputable looking than any of my mates. Yet surely you
have not sought speech with these others?"

"No."

"Then why especially with me?"  Even in the growing dusk I could mark
a red flush mount into the clear cheeks at this insistent question,
and for an instant her eyes wavered. But she possessed the courage of
pride, and her hesitancy was short.

"You imagine I cannot answer; indeed that I have no worthy reason,"
she exclaimed. "Oh, but I have; I know who you are; my uncle pointed
you out to me."

"Your uncle--the planter in the gray coat?"

"Yes; I am traveling home with him to Maryland. I am Dorothy Fairfax."

"But even with that explanation I scarcely understand," I insisted
rather stubbornly. "You say he pointed me out to you. Really I was not
aware that I was a distinguished character of any kind. How did he
happen to know me?"

"Because he was present at your trial before Lord Jeffries. He merely
chanced to be there when you were first brought up, but became
interested in the case, and so returned to hear you sentenced. You are
Geoffry Carlyle, in command of the ship that brought Monmouth to
England. I heard it all."

"All? What else, pray?"

Her eyes opened widely in sudden surprise and she clasped and
unclasped her hands nervously.

"Do you really not know? Have you never been told what happened?"

"Only that I was roughly forbidden to speak, called every foul name
the learned Judge could think of, and then sentenced to twenty years
penal servitude beyond seas," I answered soberly. "Following that I
was dragged from the dock, and flung into a cell. Was there anything
else?"

"Why you should have known. Lord Jeffries sentenced you to death; the
decree was signed, to be executed immediately. Then influence was
brought to bear--some nobleman in Northumberland made direct appeal to
the King. That was what angered Jeffries so."

"An appeal! For me? Good God! not Bucclough--was it he, the Duke?"

"Yes; it was whispered about that the King was in his debt--some word
of honor, and dare not refuse. The word of mercy came just in time,
ordering Jeffries to commute your sentence. At first he swore he'd
hang you, King or no King, but his nerve failed. My uncle said he
roared like a bull. This Bucclough; is he not your friend?"

I hesitated for an instant of indecision, looking into her face, but
the truth would not be denied.

"Scarcely that," I said soberly. "Nor can I solve entirely his
purpose. He is my brother, and I am the next in line. We are not even
on speaking terms; yet he is childless, and may feel some measure of
dislike to have the family end in a hangman's knot. I can think of no
other reason for his interference. I knew nothing of his action."

"I am glad it became my privilege to tell you. Besides, Captain
Carlyle," simply, "it may also help you to understand my interest. If
you are of the Carlyles of Bucclough, how happened it that you went to
sea?"

"Largely necessity, and to some extent no doubt sheer love of
adventure. I was a younger son, with very little income. There were
then two lives between me and the estate, and the old Duke, my
father, treated me like a servant. I always loved the sea, and at
fourteen--to get me out of his sight, I think largely--was apprenticed
to the navy, but lost my grade in the service by a mere boyish prank.
His influence then would have saved me, but he refused to even read my
letter of explanation. I dare not return home in such disgrace, and
consequently drifted into the merchant service. It is a story quickly
told."

"Yet not so quickly lived."

"No, it meant many hard years, on all the oceans of the world. This is
the first message reaching me from the old home."

"I have seen that home," she said quietly, "and shall never forget the
impression it made on me. A beautiful place. I was there on a coaching
party, the first summer I was in England. I was a mere girl then, and
everything seemed wonderful. I have been away from Maryland now for
three years."

"At school?"

"Of course; nothing else would satisfy father. Maryland is only a
Colony, you know."

"Yes, I understand. A great many over there send back their sons and
daughters to be educated. Your home is at Saint Mary's?"

"Lower down the Potomac. Have you ever been there?"

"Twice; once as mate, and the last time as master of a ship. My latest
voyage in these waters was made nearly two years ago."

She was silent for several moments, her face turned away from me, her
eyes gazing out across the waste of waters which were already growing
dark. Her clear-cut profile against the yellow light of the cabin
windows appeared most attractive.

"It is not so strange then, is it, that I should have felt interested
in you?" she asked suddenly, as though justifying herself. "When Uncle
Roger first told me who you were, and then explained what had occurred
at your trial, naturally you became to me something entirely different
from the others."

"Certainly I am not inclined to condemn."

"I never once thought of speaking to you--truly I did not," she went
on simply. "But when I saw you sitting here all alone, the impulse
came suddenly to tell you how sorry I was. You see," and she paused
doubtfully, "girls brought up in the Colonies, as I have been,
are--are not quite so careful about whom they talk with as in
England--you know what I mean; we always have indentured servants, and
become accustomed to them. It--it is quite different out there."

I laughed, thinking only to relieve her embarrassment.

"Believe me, Miss Dorothy, there is no thought in my mind that you
have done wrong," I insisted swiftly. "That would be very ungrateful,
for you have brought me new heart and hope."

"Then I am not sorry. Were you actually with Monmouth?"

"In sympathy, yes; but I had no hand in the actual fighting. I was not
even ashore until it was all over with. Still I shall pay my share of
the bill."

"And you know what that means, do you not? What will happen when we
reach Virginia?"

"Perfectly; I have no illusions. I have seen just such ships as this
come in. We are to be advertised, and sold to the highest bidder. A
week from now I shall probably be out in the tobacco fields, under the
whip of an overseer, who will call me Jeff. All I can hope for is a
kind-hearted master, and an early opportunity to escape."

"Oh, no!" and in her eagerness her hands actually clasped mine, where
they clung to the rope between us. "It is not going to be quite so bad
as that. That is what I wanted to tell you. That is what gave me
boldness to come across here to you tonight. It has all been
arranged."

"Arranged?"

"Yes--everything. You are not going to be sold on the block with those
others. Uncle Roger has already contracted with the Captain for your
services. You are going north with us to Maryland."

I stared through the dusk into her animated face, scarcely
comprehending.

"Do you not understand, yet?" she asked. "The Captain of this brig is
the agent; he represents the government, and is obliged to find places
for the prisoners."

"Yes; I know that. We are billed like so much livestock; he must
account for every head."

"Well, Uncle Roger went to him yesterday, and made a bid for you.
Finally they came to terms. That is one reason why you are left alone
here on deck tonight. The officers are no longer responsible for
you--you are already indentured."

I drew a deep breath, and in the sudden impulse of relief which swept
over me, my own fingers closed tightly about her hands.

"You tell me I am to accompany your party up the Chesapeake?"

"Yes."

"I owe this to you; I am sure I must owe this to you--tell me?"

Her eyes drooped, and in the dim light I could mark the heaving of her
bosom, as she caught her breath.

"Only--only the suggestion," she managed to say in a whisper. "He--he
was glad of that. You see I--I knew he needed someone to take charge
of his sloop, and--and so I brought you to his mind. We--we both
thought you would be just the one, and--and he went right away to see
the Captain. So please don't thank me."

"I shall never cease to thank you," I returned warmly, conscious
suddenly that I was holding her hands, and as instantly releasing
them. "Why, do you begin to understand what this actually means to me?
It means the retention of manhood, of self-respect. It will save me
the degradation which I dreaded most of all--the toiling in the fields
beside negro slaves, and the sting of the lash. Ay, it means even
more--"

I hesitated, instantly realizing that I must not utter those impetuous
words leaping to my lips.

"More!" she exclaimed. "What more?"

"This," I went on, my thought shifting into a new channel. "A longer
servitude. Up to this moment my one dream has been to escape, but I
must give that up now. You have placed me under obligations to serve."

"You mean you feel personally bound?"  "Yes; not quite so much to
your uncle, perhaps, as to yourself. But between us this has become a
debt of honor."

"But wait," she said earnestly "for I had even thought of that. I was
sure you would feel that way--any gentleman would. Still there is a
way out. You were sentenced as an indentured servant."

"I suppose so."

"It is true; you were so entered on the books of this ship. Uncle
Roger had to be sure of all this before he paid his money, and I saw
the entry myself. It read: 'Geoffry Carlyle, Master Mariner,
indentured to the Colonies for the term of twenty years, unless sooner
released; crime high treason.' Surely you must know the meaning of
those words?"

"Servitude for twenty years."

"'Unless sooner released.'"

"That means pardoned; there is no hope of that."

"Perhaps not, but that is not all it means. Any indentured man, under
our Maryland laws, can buy his freedom, after serving a certain
proportion of his sentence. I think it is true in any of the Colonies.
Did you not know that?"

I did know it, yet somehow had never connected the fact before
directly with my own case. I had been sentenced to twenty
years--twenty years of a living death--and that alone remained
impressed on my mind. I could still see Black Jeffries sitting on the
bench, glaring down at me in unconcealed anger, his eyes blazing with
the fury of impotent hate, as he roared, that, by decree of the King,
my sentence to be hung was commuted to twenty years of penal
servitude beyond seas. It had never even seemed an act of mercy to me.
But now it did, as the full truth suddenly came home, that I could buy
my freedom. God! what a relief; I stood up straight once more in the
stature of a man. I hardly know what wild words I might have spoken
had the opportunity been mine; but at that instant the figure of a man
crossed the deck toward us, emerging from the open cabin door. Against
the gleam of yellow light I recognized the trim form advancing, and as
instantly stepped back into shadow. My quick movement caused her to
turn, and face him.

"What!" he exclaimed, and evidently surprised at his discovery. "It is
indeed Mistress Dorothy--out here alone? 'Twas my thought you were
safely in your cabin long since. But--prithee--I mistake; you are not
alone."

He paused, slightly irresolute, staring forward beyond her at my
dimmer outline, quite uncertain who I might be, yet already
suspicious.

"I was preparing to go in," she answered, ignoring his latter words.
"The night already looks stormy."

"But your friend?"

The tone in which he spoke was insistent, almost insolent in its
demand, and she hesitated no longer in meeting the challenge.

"Your pardon, I am sure--Lieutenant Sanchez, this gentleman is Captain
Geoffry Carlyle."

He stood there stiff and straight against the background of light, one
hand in affected carelessness caressing the end of a waxed moustache.
His face was in shadow, yet I was quite aware of the flash of his
eyes.

"Ah, indeed--some passenger I have not chanced to observe before?"

"A prisoner," she returned distinctly. "You may perhaps remember my
uncle pointed him out to us when he first came aboard."

"And you have been out here alone, talking with the fellow?"

"Certainly--why not?"

"Why, the man is a felon, convicted of crime, sentenced to
deportation."

"It is not necessary that we discuss this, sir," she interposed,
rather proudly, "as my personal conduct is not a matter for your
criticism. I shall retire now. No; thank you, you need not come."

He stopped still, staring blankly after her as she vanished; then
wheeled about to vent his anger on me.

"Carlyle, hey!" he exclaimed sneeringly. "A familiar sound that name
in my ears. One of the brood out of Bucclough?"

"A cadet of that line," I managed to admit, wonderingly. "You know of
them?"

"Quite as much as I care to," his tone ugly and insulting. Then an
idea suddenly occurred to his mind. "Saint Guise, but that would even
up the score nicely. You are, as I understand it, sent to Virginia for
sale?"

"Yes."

"For how long a term?"

"The sentence was twenty years."

"Hela! and you go to the highest bidder. I'll do it, fellow! To
actually own a Carlyle of Bucclough will be a sweet revenge."

"You mean," I asked, dimly grasping his purpose, "that you propose
buying me when we reach shore?"

"Why not? A most excellent plan; and I owe it all to a brat I met in
London. Egad! it will be some joke to tell when next I visit England.
'Twill count for more than were I to tweak the Duke's nose."

I stopped his laughter, smiling myself grimly in the darkness.

"A very noble plan for revenge," I admitted, enjoying the swift
check-mating of his game. "And one which I am not likely to forget.
Unfortunately you come too late. It happens, Senor, that I am already
safely indentured to Roger Fairfax."

"To Fairfax? She told you that?"

"Who told me can make no difference. At least I am out of your hands."

I turned away, but he called angrily after me:

"Do not feel so sure of that, Carlyle! I am in the game yet."

I made no answer, already despising the fellow so thoroughly as to
ignore his threat. He still stood there, a mere shadow, as I
disappeared down the ladder, and I could imagine the expression on his
face.




CHAPTER IV

THE SHORES OF VIRGINIA


I rested quietly in my berth for a long time, staring blankly up at
the dark deck above, unable to sleep, and endeavoring to figure out
the true meaning of all these occurrences. It began to rain, torrents
sweeping the planks overhead, while vivid flashes of lightning
illumined the open hatch, before it could be hastily closed, revealing
the squalidness of the interior in which we were quartered. Then
someone, growling and stumbling through the darkness, lit a slush
lantern, dangling from a blackened beam, its faint flicker barely
discernible. The hole became foul and sickening, men tossing and
groaning in their uneasy sleep, or prowling about seeking some measure
of comfort. There was no severe wind accompanying the storm, and the
flurry of rain soon swept by, leaving an ugly swell behind, but
enabling the guard to again uplift the hatches.

Immersed as I was in thought, all this left but small impress on me. I
felt that I could understand the interest exhibited by Dorothy
Fairfax, and, greatly as I already admired her, I was not egotist
enough to even imagine that her effort to serve me had basis in any
personal attraction. My connection with Bucclough, coupled with her
uncle's report of my conviction, had very naturally aroused the girl's
sympathy in my behalf. She felt a desire to lighten my sorrows as
much as possible, and, under the existing circumstances, had found it
comparatively easy to persuade the good-natured planter to acquiesce
in her suggestion. In all probability he really had need of my
services, and was therefore glad enough of this opportunity to secure
them. This part of the affair I could dismiss without giving anyone
undue credit, although I deeply appreciated the kindness of heart
which had led her to interpose, and which later led her to tell me so
quickly what had occurred. Her purpose, however, was fairly clear.

But what about Lieutenant Sanchez? Why was this unknown Spaniard
already so openly my enemy? There was no doubting his position, and
there surely must be some reason for it outside of anything which had
occurred on board the _Romping Betsy_. His words had given me some
inkling of the cause--a past quarrel with the Duke of Bucclough, in
England, in which he must have been worsted, and which had left in his
mind a lurking desire for revenge. He dreamed of striking his enemy
through me, because of relationship, a cowardly blow. Yet this, by
itself alone, was scarcely a reason why he should have thus sought me
out for a victim. No sane man would deliberately visit the sins of my
brother on me. Nor had this been deliberate; it was the mere outburst
of sudden passion, arising through my intercourse with the young
woman. Otherwise it might never have occurred to him. So there was
seemingly but one answer--Sanchez used this merely as an excuse for
the concealment of his real object. What could that object be? Could
it be Dorothy Fairfax? I was a long while in actually convincing
myself of this probability, and yet no other satisfactory explanation
offered itself. She had exhibited an interest in me from the very
first, and he had endeavored to win her attention elsewhere. Even that
day when we first came aboard in chains, he had plainly evinced this
desire, and, since then, the girl had never appeared on deck, without
his immediately seeking her company. I felt finally that I had the
clue--jealousy, the mad, unreasoning jealousy of his race. He fiercely
resented her slightest interest in anyone--even a prisoner--as against
his own attractions. He was incapable of appreciating friendly
sympathy, and already held me a dangerous rival. Then, possibly, it
had not been a mere idle desire to visit the Colonies, which had
originally led to his prompt acceptance of Roger Fairfax's invitation
to make one of their party; the real attraction was the charms of
Dorothy--her girlish beauty, coupled, no doubt, with her father's
wealth. The fellow was in love, impetuously in love, resenting blindly
the slightest advance of any other.

The thought rather pleased me, largely because of its absurdity. It
was, in my case at least, so utterly false, and unjustifiable. To the
ordinary mind, indeed, any such connection would be practically
unthinkable. Even had I been wild enough to dream of such a thing, the
gulf existing between myself and Dorothy Fairfax was far too deep and
wide ever to be spanned. I had before me twenty years of servitude,
and an unknown future; nor could I even conceive the possibility of
any such thought ever entering her mind. The very opposite was what
gave her courage to serve me. I had no false conception as to this;
no vagrant thought that her interest in me was any more than a
passing fancy, born of sympathy, and a desire to aid. Nevertheless, as
she had thus already served me, I now owed her service in return, and
here was the first call. If conditions made it possible it was my
plain duty to place myself between these two. I felt no hatred toward
the man, no desire to do him a personal injury; but I did dislike and
distrust him. This feeling was instinctive, and without the slightest
reference to his seeking intimacy with the girl. From the first moment
I had looked upon his face there had been antagonism between us, a
feeling of enmity. Whether this arose from his appearance, or actions,
I could not determine--but the fellow was not my kind.

In the intensity of my feelings I must have unconsciously spoken
aloud, for a shaggy head suddenly popped out from the berth beneath
where I lay, and an interested voice asked solicitously:

"Hy, thar; whut's up, mate? Sick agin?"

"No," I answered, grinning rather guiltily, "just thinking, and
letting loose a bit. Did I disturb you?"

"Well, I reckon I wa'n't exactly asleep," he acknowledged, without
withdrawing his head. "Ye wus mutterin' 'way thar an' not disturbin'
me none, till ye got ter talkin' 'bout sum feller called Sanchez. Then
I sorter got a bit interested. I know'd thet cuss onct," and he spat,
as though to thus better express his feelings. "The damned ornary
pirate."

I laughed, my whole mental mood changed by this remark.

"It is not very likely we have the same party in mind, Haley. You see
Sanchez is a decidedly common name among Spaniards. I've known two or
three of that name myself. You were not referring to anyone on board,
were you?"

"I sure hope not," he scratched his head, staring up at me through the
dim light, wakefulness encouraging him to talk. "They tell me ye are a
sea-farin' man. Well, I wus a Deal fisher, but hev made a half dozen
deep-sea v'y'ges. Thet's how I hed the damn luck ter meet up with this
Sanchez I was a speakin' 'bout. He's the only one ever I know'd. I met
up with him off the isle o' Cuba. Likely 'nough ye know the devil I
mean?"

The question served to center my memory suddenly on a dim remembrance
of the past.

"No, unless you refer to 'Black Sanchez.' I 've heard of him; were you
ever in his hands?"

"Wus I!" he laughed grimly. "I hed eight months of it, mate, and a
greater demon never sailed. The things I saw done ye 'd never believe
no human bein' could do. If ever thar wus two people in one skin, sir,
it's thet Black Sanchez. When he's playin' off fer good he's as soft
an' sweet as a dandy in Picadilly, an' when he's real he's like a
devil in hell."

"Was you a prisoner--or did you sail under him?"

"Both, fer the matter o' thet. He give me the choice ter serve, er
walk the plank. I wus eighteen, an' hed an ol' mother at Deal."

"I see; but later you got away?"

"Ay, I did thet," chuckling over the recollection. "But I hed ter wait
eight months fer the luck. Hev ye ever been sea-farin' down in them
waters, off the West Indies?"

"No."

"Well, they're all studded over with little islands--cays, they call
'em down thare; an' it's in among them thet the buccaneers hide away,
an' sorter rest up after a cruise. Thar's a lot o' 'em too; whole
villages hid away on some o' them cays, with women an' children--every
color ye ever saw. Sanchez he made his headquarters on a cay called
Porto Grande. He hed three ships, an' maybe a hundred an' fifty men
'bout the time I got away. The last I saw o' him wus at sea. He'd
overhauled an English ship, an' sunk her; an' then the next mornin' we
took a Dutch bark in ballast. She wus such a trig sailor Sanchez
decided to keep her afloat, an' sent a prize crew aboard ter sail her
inter Porto Grande. I wus one o' the fellers picked fer thet job, an'
we wus told off under a nigger mate, named LaGrasse--he wus a French
nigger from Martinique, and a big devil--an' our orders wus ter meet
Sanchez three days later. His vessel wus a three-masted schooner, the
fastest thing ever I saw afloat, called the _Vengeance_, an' by that
time she wus chock up with loot. Still at that she could sail 'bout
three feet to our one. Afore night come we wus out o' sight astern.
Thar wus eight o' us in the crew, beside the nigger, an' we had twelve
Dutchmen under hatches below. I sorter looked 'round, an' sized up
four o' that crew ter be good honest sailormen, who'd been shanghied
same as I wus. So, long about midnight, I 'd got ter talk with all
these fellers, an' when LaGrasse went down below ter take a snooze in
the cabin, we hoisted them Dutchmen on deck, flung a couple o'
hell-hounds overboard, an' just naturally took control. The mate wus
a dead nigger afore he ever knew whut wus up. When daylight come we
wus streakin' it eastward by compass, an' every damn sail set. Thet
wus the easiest part of it. Them Dutchmen could n't talk nuthin' but
their own lingo; an' thar wa'n't a navigator aboard, fer Sanchez hed
kept all the offercers with him, an' the end wus about a week later,
when we piled up against an island off the African coast, an' only one
boat load of us got ashore. Thet's whut I know about Sanchez."

"I had a shipmate once," I observed, interested in his story, "who
claimed to have seen the fellow; he described him as being a very
large man, with intensely black hawklike eyes, and a heavy black beard
almost hiding his face."

Haley laughed.

"Maybe he looked like that when he saw him, but he ain't no bigger man
than I am; he won't weigh as much by fifteen pound. Fact is he mighty
seldom looks the same, fer thet's part o' his game. Them whiskers is
false, an' so is the saller look to his face. I 've seen him in all
sorts o' disguises. It's only his eyes he can't hide, an' thar's been
times when I thought they wus the ugliest eyes ever I saw. He's sure
an ornary devil, an' when he gits mad, I'd rather be afront of a
tiger. Besides fightin's his trade, an' no weaklin' ain't goin' ter
control the sort o' chaps he's got ter handle. Most of 'em would
murder him in a minute if they dared. Oh, he's bad all right, but yer
wouldn't exactly think so, just ter look at him, I've run up agin a
lot o' different men in my time, thet I 'd naturally sheer off from a
blame sight quicker than I would from him."

"You mean that when he is not in disguise he does not appear
dangerous. What then does he really look like?"

Haley spat again onto the deck, and scratched his shock of hair as
though thus to stimulate his memory.

"Oh, a sorter swash-bucklin' Spanish don--the kind whut likes ter
dress up, an' play the dandy. He's got a pink an' white complexion,
the Castilian kind yer know, an' wears a little moustache, waxed up at
the ends. He's about two inches taller than I am, with no extra flesh,
but with a hell of a grip in his hands. As I said afore, if it wa'n't
fer his eyes nobody'd ever look at him twice. All his devilishness
shows thar, an' I've seen 'em laugh like he didn't have a care on
earth."

"How old a man is he?"

"How old is the devil? I heard he wus about forty-five; I reckon he
must be thet, but he don't look older than thirty. He ain't the kind
yer can guess at."

We talked together for quite a while longer, our conversation
gradually drifting to the recounting of various sea adventures, and my
thoughts did not again recur to Sanchez until after I rested back once
more in my berth, endeavoring to fall asleep. Haley must have dropped
off immediately, for I could distinguish his heavy breathing among the
others; but my mind continued to wander, until it conjured up once
again this West India pirate. His name, and the story of his exploits,
had been familiar to me ever since I first went to sea. While only one
among many operating in those haunted waters, his resourcefulness,
daring and cruelty had won him an infamous reputation, a name of
horror. In those days, when the curse of piracy made the sea a
terror, no ordinary man could ever have succeeded in attaining such
supremacy in crime. No doubt much that had been reported was either
false, or exaggerated, yet there flashed across my memory numberless
tales of rapine, outrage and cold-blooded cruelty in which this demon
of the sea had figured, causing me to shudder at the recollection. To
my mind he had long been a fiend incarnate, his name a horror on the
lips. Black Sanchez--and Haley pictured him as a dandified, ordinary
appearing individual, with white and red complexion, a small
moustache, and flashing dark eyes--a mere Spanish gallant, without
special distinction. Why, that description, strangely enough, fitted
almost exactly this fellow on board, this other Sanchez. I leaned over
the edge of my bunk, and looked down on Haley, half resolved to ask if
he had ever noticed this lieutenant, but the man was already sound
asleep. The suspicion which had crept into my mind was so absurd, so
unspeakably silly and impossible, that I laughed at myself, and
dismissed the crazy thought. What, that fellow Black Sanchez! Bah, no!
He had been at sea, of course; there was no denying that fact, for he
knew ships, and spoke the lingo of blue water; but the very idea that
that blood-stained buccaneer, whose hated name was on the lips of
every sea-faring man of Britain, would ever dare openly to visit
England, and then sail under his own name on board an English vessel
for Virginia, was too preposterous for consideration. Why, it would be
sheer madness. The knowledge that such a possibility ever had flashed
into my mind became amusing, and chuckling over it, I finally fell
asleep.

It was noon, the sky overcast, the wind blowing strong from the
southeast, when the Virginia coast was first sighted from our
mast-head. An hour later it became plainly visible from the deck
below, and the prisoners were routed out from their quarters, and the
shackles, removed from limbs when we first arrived on board, were
again riveted in place, binding them together in fours, preparatory to
landing. I, with one or two others, already disposed of, and in
control of masters, were spared this indignity, and permitted to move
about as we pleased within the narrow deck space reserved for our use.
The last meal was served in the open, the men squatting on the deck
planks, endeavoring to jest among themselves, and assuming a
cheerfulness they were very far from feeling. The long hardships of
the voyage had left indelible marks on the majority, and they were by
now a woe-begone, miserable lot, who had largely abandoned themselves
to despair.

The Monmouth campaign had been brief, but no less disastrous to the
men engaged in it. Those who survived the one battle, wounded and
fugitive, had been hunted down remorselessly like so many wild beasts.
Escape from the pursuit of soldiers was almost impossible, and they
had been brutally beaten and bruised by infuriated captors; and then,
uncared for, nor shown the slightest mercy, had been thrust into
loathsome gaols to helplessly await trial, and a certain conviction.
No pen could adequately describe the suffering and horror of those
months of waiting, while the unfortunate victims lived in crowded,
dirty cells, subjected to every conceivable indignity and insult from
brutal guards, half starved, and breathing foul, fetid air--the breath
of sickness, the stench of unclean wounds. Dragged forth at last, one
by one, into a court organized for condemnation, presided over by a
foul-mouthed brute, whose every word was insult, denied all
opportunity for defense, they had later been shackled together as
felons, and driven aboard ship like so many head of cattle. Herded
below deck, tossed about for weeks on a stormy sea, uncared for, and
half starved, scarcely realizing their destination, or knowing their
fate, seeing their dead dragged out from their midst with each dawn,
and flung carelessly overboard, cursed at and struck by their guards,
they now dragged their aching bodies about in half dead despair, the
chains clanking to every movement of the limbs, their dull, lackluster
eyes scarcely discerning the darkening line of coast toward which the
_Romping Betsy_ steered.

With what depth of pity I looked at them, my glance gladly straying
from their downcast faces toward the group of passengers gathered
eagerly along the poop rail to welcome joyfully the approach of land.
These were all animation, excitement, talking eagerly to each other,
and pointing out familiar headlands as they emerged through the thin
mists. Their thoughts were all centered on home, or the promises of
this new land they were approaching, and so deeply interested that
scarcely an eye turned toward those miserable wretches grouped on the
forward deck, being borne into slavery and disgrace. It was a contrast
between hope and despair. As these passengers moved restlessly back
and forth, from rail to rail, I easily recognized among them every
face grown familiar to me during the course of the voyage, excepting
the two I most eagerly sought; and became convinced that neither Roger
Fairfax nor his niece had yet come upon deck. Sanchez was there,
however, standing alone and silent, seldom lifting his eyes to the
changing view ahead, but apparently buried in his own thoughts. Once
our glances accidentally met, and I could but observe the sudden
change in the man's expression--a change sinister and full of threat.
Whatever the original cause might be, his personal feeling toward me
was undoubtedly bitter and unforgiving, and he possessed no wish to
disguise it. The new life in the new world had already brought me both
friend and enemy before I had as yet touched foot on land.




CHAPTER V

THE WATERS OF THE CHESAPEAKE


The brig, with all sails set, and favored by a strong wind, drew
rapidly in toward the point of landing. The great majority of the
prisoners remained on deck, chained together and helpless, yet
surrounded by armed guards, while the few who had already been
purchased by passengers, humbly followed their new masters ashore the
moment the gang-plank touched the soil of Virginia. There were five of
us altogether thus favored, but I was the only one owing allegiance to
Roger Fairfax. The rude landing wharf along which we lay was already
densely crowded with men, their appearance and dress largely
proclaiming them to be planters from the interior, either gathered to
inspect the consignment of prisoners, or eager to purchase at low
prices the stores hidden away in the vessel's hold. Some among the
concourse, however, were undoubtedly present to welcome friends and
relatives among the passengers. Altogether it was a bustling scene,
full of change and color, the air noisy with shouting voices, the line
of wharves filled with a number of vessels, either newly arrived, or
preparing to depart. Servants both white and colored were busily at
work, under the command of overseers, loading and unloading cargoes,
while the high bank beyond was crowded with vehicles of various kinds.
News of the arrival of the _Romping Betsy_ had evidently spread
widely, together with the rumor that she brought a number of prisoners
to be auctioned off. It was a good-natured, restless crowd, especially
anxious for any news from abroad, and eager to benefit from the sale.
The majority of the men I judged to be landowners, hearty, wholesome
looking fellows, whose lives were passed out-of-doors, dressed in
their best in honor of the occasion. The prevailing fashion was a
broad-leafed, felt hat with one side looped up to the crown by a
brilliant metal button, a velvet coat with long, voluminous skirts,
wide sleeves, metallic buttons as large as a Spanish dollar, short
breeches, and long stockings with gold or silver knee and shoe
buckles. Many wore swords, while those who did not bore about with
them enormous gold or silver-headed canes. The smoking of pipes was
common, and thoughtless profanity was to be heard on all sides as an
ordinary part of speech. It was with no small difficulty we succeeded
in forcing our way through this jostling throng until we attained to
an open space ashore.

I followed closely behind the three composing our party, Roger
Fairfax, and Sanchez, with the laughing girl between them for
protection, pressing a passage forward. Even had I not been laden with
packages my general appearance and dress would doubtless have
proclaimed my position, and aroused passing interest. I heard voices
calling attention to me, while curious eyes stared into my face.
Fairfax was evidently well known to a number present, for he was being
greeted on all sides with hearty hand-shakes, and words of welcome.

"Ah, back again, Roger; and what fortune in London?"  "A fair price
for the crop?"

"Is the lad trailing behind ye one o' Monmouth's men?"

"Any news, friend, in Parliament? What is the latest on the tax?"

"And pray who is this damsel, Roger; not Hugh Fairfax's girl? Ay,
quite the woman now."

"Your men? They're over there, across the road. Of course I know; did
I not come from the dock with them?"

There were two of them, both negroes, but one, addressed by Fairfax as
Sam, was much the lighter in color, and far more intelligent of face.
A few words of instruction dispatched these back to the _Romping
Betsy_ for the luggage yet remaining on board, while our own party
continued to advance along the water front toward where Sam had
designated the Fairfax boat would be found awaiting us, fully prepared
to depart up the Chesapeake. When finally attained this vessel proved
to be a goodly sized sloop, of a type familiar to those waters,
containing a comfortable small cabin forward, a staunch, broad-beamed
craft, but with lines indicating sailing qualities, while requiring
only a small crew. Several similar vessels--doubtless owned and
operated by planters residing along the shore of the Bay--were
anchored in the basin, or fastened at the dock, but the _Adele_ had
been warped in against the bank, which at this point was high enough
to enable us easily to step aboard over the low rail. A dingy looking
white man, quite evidently from his appearance an indentured servant,
was in charge, He greeted us rather surlily, staring at me with
almost open hostility, yet responded swiftly enough to Fairfax's
orders.

"Here, Carr, stow these packages away. Yes, you better help with them,
Carlyle. The other bags will be along directly--Sam and John have gone
after them. Put these forward, under cover. Has everything been seen
to, so we can start at once?"

"Ay, ay, sorr," was the gruff response, in a strong Irish brogue.
"Lord knows we've hid toime enough, fer we've bin waitin' here fer yer
a wake, er more. It's a month since the lether came."

"We have had a slow voyage, Carr. So all I ordered is aboard?"

"She's full oop ter the hatches; bedad I hope thar ain't no more."

"Good; we ought to get as far as Travers' by dark then. Hurry along,
and stow that stuff away; here come the others now."

The three found comfortable seats along the opposite rail, and sat
there watching us hastily bring aboard the various articles which the
two negroes, assisted by a boy and a cart, had transported from the
brig. I worked along with the others, under the orders of Sam, who
seemed to be in charge, already feeling somewhat deeply the
humiliation of my position, but nevertheless realizing the necessity
of prompt obedience. The knowledge that I was now a slave, on a level
with these others, compelled to perform menial labor under the very
eyes of Dorothy Fairfax and that sneering Spaniard, cut my pride to
the quick. In my trips back and forth I kept my eyes averted, never
once venturing to glance toward them, until this work had been
accomplished. But when we stood idle, while Sam went aft for
instructions, I had recovered sufficient nerve to turn my eyes in that
direction, only to observe that the young woman sat with head turned
away, gazing out over the rail at the shore, her chin cupped in her
hands, her thoughts apparently far away. Strange as it may seem her
obvious indifference hurt me oddly, my only comprehension being that
she did not in the least care; that in fact she had already entirely
dismissed me from her mind. This supposition, whether true or false,
instantly hardened me to my fate, and I stared at Sanchez, meeting his
eyes fairly, at once angered by the sneer on his lips and the open
insult of his manner. He turned toward her, fingering a cheroot, and
said something; but, though she answered, her head remained
motionless, her eyes searching the shore indifferently. A figure or
two appeared along the summit of the bank, voices calling to Fairfax,
who stood up as he replied, ending the conversation with a wave of the
hand to Sam, who had taken position at the wheel. The latter began
shouting orders in a shrill voice. Carr cast off, and, with the negro
and myself at the halliards, the mainsail rose to the caps, while we
began gliding out from the shore into the deeper water. By the time we
had hoisted the jib, and made all secure, we were out far enough to
feel the full force of the stiff breeze, the _Adele_ careening until
her rail was awash, the white canvas soaring above us against the
misty blue of the sky.

There was little to be done after the ropes had been coiled away, and
we were fairly out into the broader reaches of the Bay. The wind held
steady, requiring no shifting of canvas, so Sam, having dispatched the
negro below to prepare lunch, and stationed Carr forward as lookout,
called me aft to the wheel. He was a rather pleasant-faced fellow,
yellow as saffron, with rings in his ears, and a wide mouth
perpetually grinning.

"Massa Fairfax he say you real sailorman," he began, looking me over
carefully, with a nod of his head toward the group at the rail. "Dat
so?"

"Yes; I have been a number of years at sea."

"Dat what he say; dat he done bought yer fer dat reason mostly. Ah
reckon den ye kin steer dis boat?"

"I certainly can."

"So? Den Ah's sure goin' fer ter let yer try right now. Yer take hol',
while Ah stand by a bit."

I took his place, grasping the spokes firmly, and he stood aside,
watching every movement closely, as I held the speeding sloop steadily
up to the wind, the spray pouring in over the dipping rail forward.
The grin on his lips broadened.

"What is the course?" I asked curiously.

"'Cross ter dat point yonder--see, whar de lone tree stan's; we done
'round dat 'bout tree hunder' yards out, an' then go straight 'way
north."

"You use no chart?"

He burst into a guffaw, as though the question was a rare joke.

"No, sah; I nebber done saw one."

"But surely you must steer by compass?"

"Dar is a little one somewhar on board, and Ah done ain't seed it fer
mor 'n a yare, Ah reckon. 'Tain't no use enyhow. Whut we steer by is
landmarks. Ah sure does know de Chesapeake. Yer ever bin up de Bay?"

"Yes, twice, but out in the deep water. I suppose you hug along the
west shore. How is the sloop--pretty heavily loaded?"

He nodded, still grinning cheerfully over the ease with which I
manipulated the wheel.

"Chuck full ter de water line; we've done been shovin' things inter
dat hold fer a week past, but she's sure a good sailor. Whut wus it
Massa Roger say yer name wus?"

"Carlyle."

"So he did; don't ever recollect hearin' dat name afore. Ye's one of
dem rebels ober in England?"

"I got mixed up in the affair."

"An' whut dey done give yer?"

"My sentence, you mean--twenty years."

"Lordy! dat's sure tough. Well, I reckon yer done know yer job all
right, so I'll just leave yer here awhile, an' go forrard an' git a
snack. Ain't eat nuthin' fer quite a spell. Ah'll be back afore yer
'round de point yonder."

I was alone at the wheel, the sloop in my control, and somehow as I
stood there, grasping those spokes, the swift boat leaping forward
through the water, leaning recklessly over before the force of the
wind, the numbing sense of helpless servitude left me in a new return
of manhood and responsibility. It was a scene of exhilaration, the
sun, still partially obscured by misty clouds already well down in the
western sky, with the tossing waves of the Bay foam-crested. The
distant headlands appeared spectral and gray through the vapor, while
the waters beyond took on the tint of purple shadows. The _Adele_
responded to the helm gallantly, the spreading canvas above standing
out like a board, a broad wake of white foam spreading far astern. Not
another sail appeared across that troubled surface of waters, not even
a fisherman's boat, the only other vessel visible along our course
being a dim outline close in against that far-away headland toward
which I had been instructed to steer. I stared at this indistinct
object, at first believing it a wreck, but finally distinguishing the
bare masts of a medium-sized bark, evidently riding at anchor only a
few hundred yards off shore.

Satisfied as to this, my glance shifted to our own decks, feeling a
seaman's admiration for the cleanliness of the little vessel, and the
shipshape condition of everything aboard. The decks had more the
appearance of a pleasure yacht, than that of a cargo carrier, although
the broad beam, and commodious hatches bespoke ample storage room
below. Apparently all this hold space had been reserved for the
transportation of goods, the passenger quarters being forward, with
the cook's galley at the foot of the mast. Where the crew slept I was
unable to discern, but they were few in number, and as Sam had
disappeared up a short ladder, and then across the roof of the cabin,
it was highly probable there would be a compact forecastle nestled
between the bows. The blacker negro was busily engaged in the galley,
his figure occasionally visible at the open door, and a column of
black smoke poured out through the tin funnel. The deck planks were
scrubbed white, and the hand-rails had been polished until they
shone.

The three passengers still remained seated together, the men
conversing, and occasionally pointing forth at some object across the
water, but, while I watched the little group, the girl made no
movement, nor attempt at speech. None of them even so much as glanced
toward me, and I felt that, already, I had been dismissed from their
thought, had been relegated to my proper position, had sunken to my
future place as a mere servant. Finally Mistress Dorothy arose to her
feet, and, with a brief word of explanation to her uncle, started
forward in the direction of the cabin. A sudden leap of the boat
caused her to clutch the rail, and instantly Sanchez was at her side,
proffering assistance. They crossed the dancing deck together, his
hand upon her arm, and paused for a moment at the door to exchange a
few sentences. When the Spaniard came back he pointed out to Fairfax
the position of the still distant bark, which however was by this time
plainly revealed off our port quarter. The planter stood up in order
to see better, and then the two crossed the deck to a position only a
few yards from where I stood at the wheel, and remained there, staring
out across the intervening water.

"Surely a strange place in which to anchor, Lieutenant," said Fairfax
at last, breaking the silence, his hand shading his eyes. "Bark
rigged, and very heavily sparred. Seems to be all right. What do you
make of the vessel?"

The Spaniard twisted his moustache, but exhibited little interest,
although his gaze was upon the craft.

"Decidedly Dutch I should say," he answered slowly, "to judge from
the shape of her lines, and the size of her spars. The beggars seem
quite at home there, with all their washing out. Not a usual
anchorage?"

"No, nor a particularly safe one. There are some very heavy seas off
that point at times, and there is no plantation near by. Travers'
place is beyond the bend. We'll put up with him tonight; he owns that
land yonder, but his wharf is several miles up the coast. Damn me,
Sanchez, I believe I 'll hail the fellow, and find out what he is
doing in there."

Sanchez nodded, carelessly striking flint and steel in an effort to
relight a cheroot, and Fairfax turned his head toward me.

"Oh, is that you, Carlyle? Where is Sam?"

"Gone forward, sir, half an hour ago. He decided I was safe."

The planter laughed, with a side glance toward Sanchez, who gave no
sign that he overhead.

"No doubt he was right. Port your helm a little, and run down as close
as seems safe to that fellow out yonder, until I hail him."

"Very well, sir."

We came about slowly, tossed a bit by the heavy swell, the ponderous
boom swinging, and permitting the loosened canvas to flap against the
ropes, until the sloop finally steadied onto the new tack. The
distance to be covered was not great, and in less than ten minutes, we
were drawing in toward the high stern of the anchored vessel. She was
larger than I had thought, a lumping craft for those days, bark
rigged, with lower spars the heaviest I had ever seen. No evidence of
life appeared on board, although everything looked shipshape alow and
aloft, and a rather extensive wash flapped in the wind forward,
bespeaking a generous crew. There was no flag at the mizzen to signify
nationality, yet there was a peculiar touch to the rig which confirmed
in my mind the truth of Sanchez's guess that she was originally Dutch.
A moment later this supposition was confirmed as my eyes made out the
name painted across the stern--NAMUR OF ROTTERDAM.

Fairfax leaned far out across the rail, as we swept in closer, his
eyes searching the stranger's side for some evidence of human presence
aboard, but the Spaniard exhibited no particular interest in the
proceedings, standing motionless, the smoke of the cheroot blown idly
from his mouth, The fellow's face was turned from me, yet I could not
help note the insolence of his attitude, in spite of my occupation at
the wheel. A hundred feet distant, I held the dancing sloop to mere
steerage-way, while Fairfax hailed in a voice which went roaring
across the water like a gun.

"Ahoy, the bark!"

A red-faced man with a black beard thrust his head up above the after
rail, and answered, using English, yet with a faint accent which was
not Dutch. What he looked like below the shoulders could not be
discerned.

"Veil, vat's vanted? Vos anyding wrong?"

"No, not aboard here," returned Fairfax, a bit puzzled at the reply,
"We ran down to see if you were in any trouble. This is a strange
place to anchor. What are you--Dutch?"

The fellow waved his hands in a gesture indicating disgust.  "Dat's
eet. Ve're out ov Rotterdam--you see ze name ov ze sheep. But ve not
sail frum thar dis time--no. Ve cum here from ze Barbadoes," he
explained brokenly "wiz cane-sugar, an' hides. Ve vait here for our
agent."

"But why anchor in a place like this? Why not go on up to the wharfs?"

"Vye not? For ziz--I no trust my crew ashore. Zay Vest Indy niggers,
an' vud run avay ven ze chance cum. I know vat zay do."

In spite of my efforts the two vessels were drifting rapidly apart,
and this last explanation came to us over the water in a faint thread
of sound barely discernible. I asked if I should tack back, but
Fairfax shook his head, and in a moment more we were beyond reach of
the voice. Dorothy appeared at the door of the cabin and stood there,
gazing in surprise at the bark, while the moment he caught sight of
her Sanchez went hastily forward, removing his hat with so peculiar a
flourish as he approached as to cause me to notice the gesture.
Fairfax remained beside the rail, staring out across the widening
water, clearly dissatisfied, but finally waved his hand in a command
to me to resume our course. Shortly after he crossed the deck to the
wheel, and stood there beside me, still watchful of the dwindling
vessel already far astern.

"What do you make of her, Carlyle?" he asked finally, turning slightly
to glance at my face. "I believe that fellow lied."

"So do I, sir," I answered promptly. "Whatever else he may be, he's
no peaceful Dutch trader. The bark is Dutch built all right, and no
doubt once sailed out of Rotterdam; but that fellow got his accent
from South Europe."

"Damn me, that's just what I thought."

"Nor is that all, sir. If he was loaded with cane-sugar and hides for
market, he wouldn't be nearly so high out of water. That bark was in
ballast, or I miss my guess. Besides, if he was a trader, where was
his crew? There wasn't a single head popped over the rail while we
were alongside; and that isn't natural. Even a West India nigger has
curiosity. I tell you the men on board that hooker had orders to keep
down."

Fairfax stroked his chin, his eyes shifting from the distant vessel to
Dorothy and Sanchez who were now making their way slowly aft, the
latter grasping the girl's arm, and smirking as he talked rapidly.

"By God! but I believe you are right," he admitted frankly, "although
it had not occurred to me before. There is something wrong there. I'll
tell Travers, and have him send a runner overland to give warning
below."




CHAPTER VI

FAIRFAX SPEAKS WITH ME


Sanchez drew a chair into the slight shade cast by the mainsail, and
induced his reluctant companion to sit down. He remained bending over
her, with his back turned toward us chattering away, although she only
answered in monosyllables, seldom glancing up into his face. With
hands gripping the spokes of the wheel, and my attention concentrated
on the course ahead, I could yet notice how closely Fairfax was
observing the two, with no pleasant expression in his eyes, and,
forgetful that I was merely a servant, I ventured a question.

"You have known Senor Sanchez for some time, sir?"

He started in surprise, yet answered as though the unexpected query
had been merely an echo of his own thoughts.

"No," he admitted frankly. "Indeed I hardly know how it happened that
I invited him to join our party. It seemed natural enough then, but
lately I confess to having taken a dislike to the fellow, and have
begun to imagine that he even pushed his way on me. But," he stopped,
suddenly realizing what he was saying, "why do you ask?"

I was not wholly prepared to say, yet as instantly comprehended the
prompt necessity of advancing some reasonable explanation. There came
to me swiftly, from the sharpness of his question, the paralyzing
knowledge that I was a servant addressing my master.

"Of course it is no business of mine," I confessed, rather lamely,
"who your guests are. I'm sorry I spoke."

"It is altogether too late to say that," he insisted. "Some thought
prompted the inquiry. Go on. See here, Carlyle, you are no nigger or
white thief. I know the difference, and recognize that you are
gentleman born. Because I've bought your services for a term of years,
is no reason why you cannot talk to me like a man. Do you know
anything about this Spaniard?"

"Not very much, sir. He has seen fit to threaten me, on account of
some row he has had with a brother of mine in England."

"In England! The Duke of Bucclough?"

"Yes. I haven't the slightest knowledge of what it was all about, but
evidently our Spanish friend got the worst of it. He planned to buy me
in at the sale; but, fortunately for me, you gained possession ahead
of him."

"Do you mean to say that he told you all this?"

"It came out in a moment of anger."

Fairfax looked at me incredulously.

"See here, Carlyle," he exclaimed bluntly, "I am not questioning your
word, but it is a bit difficult for me to understand why a guest of
mine should indulge in angry controversy with a government prisoner,
sent overseas for sale as an indentured servant. There must have been
some unusual cause. Haven't I a right to know what that cause was,
without using my authority to compel an answer?"

I hesitated, but only for a moment. He undoubtedly was entitled to
know, and besides there was nothing involved I needed to conceal.

"It is my impression, sir, that Mistress Dorothy was the unconscious
cause. She chanced to discover me alone on deck the night before we
landed, and hastened to tell me of your purchase. It was merely an act
of kindness, as we had never spoken together before. We were still
talking across the rope, when Sanchez came out of the cabin, and
joined us. I imagine he may not have liked the interest both you and
the young lady had shown in me since we came aboard. Anyway when he
found us there, he was not in good humor. Mistress Dorothy resented
his language, treated him coldly, and finally departed, leaving him
decidedly angry. He merely vented his spite on me."

"But he said nothing about himself--his motives?"

"Not a word, sir; yet it is plain to be seen that he is deeply
interested in your niece."

Fairfax frowned, ignoring the remark.

"But do you know the man--who he is?"

I shook my head, the memory of Haley flashing into my mind, but as
instantly dismissed as worthless. Fairfax would only laugh at such a
vague suspicion. Yet why should the planter ask me such a question?
Could it be that the Spaniard was equally unknown to himself?

"But if he has quarreled with your brother," he insisted, unsatisfied
"you perhaps know something?"

"I have not seen my brother in years. I doubt if I would know him if
we met face to face. As to this man, my knowledge of him is only what
little I have seen and heard on board the _Romping Betsy_," I answered
soberly. "I confess a prejudice; that I am unable to judge him
fairly. In the first place I do not like his race, nor his kind; but I
did suppose, of course, that, as he was your guest, you considered him
a man worthy your hospitality."

Fairfax's face reddened, and he must have felt the sting of these
words, uttered as they were by the lips of his bondman. I thought he
would turn abruptly away, leaving them unanswered, but he was too much
of a gentleman.

"Carlyle," he said brusquely, "you have touched the exact point--I do
not know. I thought I did, of course, but what has occurred on the
voyage over has led me to doubt. I met Sanchez at the Colonial Club in
London. He was introduced to me by Lord Sandhurst as a wealthy young
Spaniard, traveling for pleasure. It was understood that he brought
letters of introduction to a number of high personages. He knew London
well, enjoyed a wide circle of acquaintances, and we became rather
intimate. I found him companionable and deeply interested in America,
which he said he had never visited. Finally I invited him to accompany
me as a guest on my return."

"He accepted?"

"No, not at once; he doubted if he could break off certain business
engagements in England. Then, at a reception, he chanced to meet my
niece, and, a little later, decided to undertake the voyage. I am
inclined to believe she was the determining factor."

"Very likely," I admitted, deciding now to learn all possible details.
"However, that is not to be wondered at. Mistress Dorothy is an
exceedingly attractive young woman."

The look he gave me was far from pleasant.

"But she is not a girl for any swash-buckling Spaniard to carry off as
prize," he burst out hotly. "God's mercy! Her father would never
forgive me if that happened."

"Never fear," I said dryly, "it is not going to happen."

"Why do you say that?"

"Because I have seen them together, and am not entirely blind, Watch
them now--she scarcely responds to his words."

His eyes rested for a moment on the two, but he only shook his head
moodily.

"No one knows what is in the heart of a woman, Carlyle. Sanchez is
fairly young, handsome in a way, and adventurous. Just the sort to
attract a young girl, and he possesses an easy tongue. More than that,
I have lost faith in him. He is not a gentleman."

"You surely must have reason for those words, sir," I exclaimed in
surprise. "He has revealed to you his true nature during the voyage?"

"Unconsciously--yes. We have had no exchange of words, no controversy.
He is even unaware that I have observed these things. Some were of
very small moment, perhaps unworthy of being repeated, although they
served to increase my doubt as to the man's character. But two
instances remain indelibly stamped on my mind. The first occurred when
we were only three days at sea. It was at night, and the two of us
chanced to be alone, on deck. I was reclining in the shadow of the
flag locker, in no mood for conversation, and he was unaware of my
presence as he tramped nervously back and forth. Suddenly he stopped,
and reached over into the quarter-boat, and when he stood up again he
had the Captain's pet cat in his hands. Before I dreamed of such a
thing he had hurled that helpless creature into the water astern."

"Good God! an act of wanton cruelty."

"The deliberate deed of a fiend; of one who seeks pleasure in
suffering."

"And the other incident? Was that of the same nature?"

"It was not an incident, but a revelation. The fellow is not only,
beneath his pretense of gentleness, a fiend at heart, but he is also a
consummate liar. He led me to believe in London--indeed he told me so
directly--that he was totally unacquainted with America. It is not
true. He knows this entire coast even better than I do. He forgot
himself twice in conversation with me, and he was incautious enough to
speak freely with Captain Harnes. The Captain told me later."

"This begins to sound serious, sir," I said, as he ceased speaking.
"Do you suspect him of any particular purpose in this deceit?"

"Not at present; I can only wait, and learn. As a Spanish naval
officer he may have obtained some knowledge of this coast--but why he
should have deliberately denied the possession of such information is
unexplainable at present. I shall watch him closely, and have told you
these facts merely to put you on guard. I know you to be a gentleman,
Carlyle, even though you are temporarily a servant, and I feel
convinced I can trust in your discretion."

"You certainly can, sir. I appreciate your confidence in me."  "Then
keep your eyes and ears open; that's all. Dorothy is calling, and
yonder comes Sam."

We had yet a full hour of daylight, during which little occurred of
special interest. Sam took the wheel, while I ate supper, sitting with
Carr on the deck behind the galley. Fairfax and his guests, were
served at a table within the small cabin, and we had a glimpse of
them, and their surroundings, the table prettily decorated with snowy
linen, and burnished silver, while John, in a white jacket, waited
upon them obsequiously, lingering behind his master's chair. The
Lieutenant seemed in excellent humor, laughing often, and talking
incessantly, although it occurred to me the man received scant
encouragement from the others. After taking back to the galley my
emptied pewter dish, and not being recalled aft to the wheel, I was
glad to hang idly over the rail, watching the shore line slip past,
and permit my thoughts to drift back to my conversation with Fairfax.
Carr soon joined me, rather anxious to continue our talk, and ask
questions, but not finding me particularly responsive, finally
departed forward, leaving me alone.

The sun by this time was rapidly sinking below the fringe of tall
trees on the main-land, but the fresh breeze held favorably, and the
little _Adele_ was making most excellent progress, the water being
much smoother since we had rounded the point. We were already beyond
view of the anchored bark. All about was a scene of loneliness,
whether the searching eyes sought the near-by shore, apparently a
stretch of uninhabited wilderness, densely forested, or the broad
extent of the Bay, across which no white gleam of sail was visible.
All alike was deserted, and becoming gloomy in the closing down of
night. Dorothy remained hidden in the cabin, until about the time of
our approach to the rude landing at Travers' plantation. Whether this
isolation arose from an effort to make herself more presentable, or a
desire to avoid further contact with the Spaniard, was a question.
When she finally emerged at Roger Fairfax's call, and crossed the deck
to where the men were, there was no alteration in her dress, but by
that time I was busily engaged with Carr in reefing the mainsail, and
she passed me by without so much as a glance of recognition. Meanwhile
Fairfax and Sanchez paced restlessly back and forth, conversing
earnestly as they smoked, only occasionally pausing to contemplate the
shore past which we were gliding in silence, the only sound the ripple
of water at our stem.

Where I leaned alone against the rail, my eyes followed the Spaniard
in doubt and questioning, nor could I entirely banish from mind
Haley's description of that buccaneer, bearing a similar name, under
whom he had been compelled to serve through scenes of crime. Yet, in
spite of my unconscious desire to connect these two together, I found
it simply impossible to associate this rather soft-spoken, effeminate
dandy with that bloody villain, many of whose deeds were so familiar
to me. The distinction was too apparent. Beyond all doubt this fellow
concealed beneath his smiles a nature entirely different from the one
he now so carefully exhibited. He could hate fiercely, and nourish
revenge, and he was capable of mean, cowardly cruelty. His threat
toward me, as well as that strange incident Fairfax had observed on
the deck of the _Romping Betsy_, evidenced all this clearly, yet such
things rather proved the man a revengeful coward instead of a
desperate adventurer. Black Sanchez, according to all accounts, was a
devil incarnate, and no such popinjay as this maker of love, could
ever be changed into a terror of the sea. He was not of that stern
stuff. That it was perfectly easy for him to lie--even natural--was no
surprise to me. This seemed to accord with his other characteristics;
nor was it altogether strange that he should be fairly familiar with
these waters. If, as he claimed, he had once been connected with the
Spanish navy, which quite likely was true, even if he had never
visited this coast in person, he might have had access to their charts
and maps. It was well known that early Spanish navigators had explored
every inch of this coast line, and that their tracings, hastily as
they had been made, were the most correct in existence. His memory of
these might yet retain sufficient details through which he could
pretend to a knowledge much greater than he really possessed.

No, I would dismiss that thought permanently from my mind, as being
quite impossible. I felt that I had learned to judge men; that my long
years at sea, both before the mast, and in supreme command, had
developed this faculty so as to be depended upon. I believed that I
knew the class to which Lieutenant Sanchez belonged--he was a low-born
coward, dangerous only through treachery, wearing a mask of bravado,
capable enough of any crime or cruelty, but devoid of boldness in plan
or execution; a fellow I would kick with pleasure, but against whom I
should never expect to be obliged to draw a sword. He was a snake,
who could never be made into a lion--a character to despise, not fear.
And so I dismissed him, feeling no longer any serious sense of danger
in his presence, yet fully determined to watch closely his future
movements in accordance with my promise.

It was already quite dusk when we finally drew in beside Travers'
wharf, and made fast. Our approach had been noted, and Travers
himself--a white-haired, white-bearded man, yet still hearty and
vigorous, attired in white duck--was on the end of the dock to greet
us, together with numerous servants of every shade of color, who
immediately busied themselves toting luggage up the steep path leading
toward the house, dimly visible in the distance, standing conspicuous
amid a grove of trees on the summit, of the bank. The others followed,
four fellows lugging with difficulty an iron-bound chest, the two
older men engaged in earnest conversation, thus leaving Sanchez
apparently well satisfied with the opportunity alone to assist the
girl. Except to render the sloop completely secure for the night,
there remained little work for us to perform on board. Sam found an
ample supply of tobacco and pipes, and the four of us passed the early
evening undisturbed smoking and talking together. The fellows were not
uninteresting as I came to know them better, and Carr, who I learned
had been transported three years before for robbery, having at one
time been a soldier, was prolific of reminiscences, which he related
with true Irish wit. Sam contented himself with asking me numerous
questions relative to the Duke of Monmouth, whose effort to attain the
throne interested him greatly, and I very gladly gave him all the
information I possessed. So the time passed quickly, and it must have
been nearly midnight before we brought out blankets from the
forecastle, and lay down in any spot we chose on deck.

It was a fair, calm night, but moonless, with but little wind
stirring, and a slight haze in the air, obscuring the vision. The
windows of the great house above, which earlier in the evening had
blazed with lights, were now darkened, and the distant sounds of
voices and laughter had entirely ceased. The only noise discernible as
I lay quiet was the soft lapping of waves against the side of the
sloop or about the piling supporting the wharf to which we were
moored. The others must have fallen asleep immediately, but my own
mind remained far too active to enable me to lose consciousness. At
last, despairing of slumber, and perchance urged by some indistinct
premonition of danger, I sat up once more and gazed about. The three
men were lying not far apart, close in to the galley wall, merely
dark, shapeless shadows, barely to be distinguished in the gloom. With
no longer any fear of disturbing them, I arose to my feet, and
stepping carefully past their recumbent forms, moved silently aft
toward the more open space near the wheel. I had been standing there
hardly a minute, staring blankly out into the misty dimness of the
Bay, when my startled eyes caught glimpse of a speck of white emerging
from the black shadows--the spectral glimmer of a small sail. I was
scarcely convinced I had seen it, yet as swiftly crouched lower,
hiding myself behind the protection of the rail, instantly alert to
learn the meaning of this strange apparition. An instant told me this
was no deceit. The strange craft swept past, so far out that those on
board no doubt believed themselves beyond sight from the shore,
heading apparently for a point of land, which I vaguely remembered as
jutting out to the northward. Even my eyes, accustomed to the
darkness, and strained to the utmost, could detect scarcely more than
the faintest shadow gliding silently by, yet sufficient to recognize
the outlines of a small keel boat, propelled by a single lug sail, and
even imagined I could discern the stooped figure of a man at the helm.




CHAPTER VII

THE LIEUTENANT UNMASKED


I had in truth hardly more than grasped the reality of the boat's
presence--it seemed so spectral a thing amid the mists of the
night--when it had vanished utterly once more behind the curtain of
darkness. There was no sound to convince me my eyes had not deceived;
that I had actually perceived a boat, flying before the wind, under
complete control, and headed to the northward. No echo of a voice came
across the water, no slight flap of sail, no distant creak of pulley,
or groaning of rope--merely that fleeting vision, seemingly a phantom
of imagination, a vision born from sea and cloud. Yet I knew I was not
deceived. Where the craft could be bound; for what secret purpose it
was afloat; who were aboard, were but so many unanswerable questions
arising in my mind. I stared vainly into the darkness, puzzled and
uncertain, impressed alone by the one controlling thought, that some
mysterious object, some hidden purpose alone could account for that
swift, silent passage. Where could they have come from, unless from
that strange Dutch bark riding at anchor off the point below? The
passing craft had impressed me as a ship's boat, and no craft of
fishermen; and if it really came from the _Namur of Rotterdam_, had it
been sent in answer to some signal by Sanchez? I could think of
nothing else. They must have chosen this late hour purposely; they
had doubtless endeavored to slip past us unobserved, seeking some more
desolate spot on the coast where they might land unseen. Possibly,
deceived by the night, the helmsman had approached closer to the wharf
than he had intended; yet, nevertheless, if he held to his present
course, he must surely touch shore not more than five hundred yards
distant. In all probability that was his purpose.

I stood up, tempted at first to arouse Sam, but deciding almost as
quickly that at present this was unnecessary. I had no wish to be the
occasion for laughter; it would be better first to ascertain who these
parties were, rather than create an unwarranted alarm. The reasonable
probability was they composed merely a party of innocent fishermen,
returning home after a day of sport--plantation servants possibly, who
having stolen away unobserved, were now endeavoring to beach their
stolen boat, and reach quarters without being seen. This theory
appeared far more reasonable than the other, and, if it proved true,
to arouse the sleepers on deck, would only result in making me a butt
for ridicule. It appeared safe enough for me to adventure alone, and I
was at least determined to assure myself as to the identity of these
strangers. If they had actually landed it would require only a few
moments to ascertain the truth, and I could accomplish this fully as
well by myself, as though accompanied by others--indeed with less
danger of discovery. I quietly lowered my body over the rail, and
found footing on the wharf.

My knowledge of the path to be pursued was extremely vague, for our
arrival had been in the dusk of the evening, so that any observation
of the shore lines had been quite casual. I merely remembered that the
bluff rose rather steeply from the water's edge, the path leading
upward toward the house crowning the summit, turning and twisting in
order to render the climb easier, and finally vanishing entirely as it
approached the crest. Beside this, leading downward straight to the
shore end of the wharf, was the broad slide, along which the bales and
hogsheads of tobacco were sent hurtling on their way to market. My
impression remained that the strip of beach was decidedly narrow, and
generally bordered by a rather thick growth of dwarfed shrub. The
point of land beyond clung dimly in my memory as sparsely wooded,
tapering at its outer extremity into a sand bar against which the
restless waves of the Bay broke in lines of foam. The only feasible
method of approach to the spot I now sought would be by following this
narrow strip of beach, yet this might be attempted safely, as my
movements would be concealed by the darker background of the high
bluff at the left.

In spite of the unfamiliarity of this passage, I succeeded in making
excellent progress, advancing silently along the soft sand, assured I
was safe from observation by reason of the intense darkness. The waves
lapping the beach helped muffle my footsteps, but no other sound
reached my ears, nor could my eyes perceive the slightest movement
along the water surface within reach of vision. The distance proved
somewhat greater than anticipated, because of the deep curve in the
shore, and I had nearly reached the conclusion that the boat must have
rounded the point and gone on, when suddenly I was brought to a halt
by a voice speaking in Spanish--one of those harsh, croaking voices,
never to be reduced to a whisper. Imperfect as was my knowledge of the
tongue, I yet managed a fair understanding of what was being said.

"Not the spot, Manuel? Of course it is; do you not suppose I know? The
cursed fog made me run in close ashore to where I could see the sloop,
so as not to mistake. This is the place, and now there is nothing to
do but wait. The Senor--he will be here presently."

"Ay, unless you misread the signal," a somewhat more discreet, but
piping voice replied doubtfully. "I saw nothing of all you tell
about."

"Because you knew no meaning, nor read the instructions," a touch of
anger in the tone. "I tell you it was all written out in that letter
brought to me from England on the _Wasp_. They were his last orders,
and it was because of them that we anchored off the point yonder, and
explored this coast. You saw the Senor touch the handkerchief to his
cheek?"

"As he went forward alone--yes, surely."

"It was that motion which bade us come here, Manuel. Once for each
cursed plantation along this west coast from the point. He touched the
cloth to his cheek but the once, and this is the first. I watched for
the sign with care for he is not one with whom to make a mistake."

"Dios de Dios! Do I not know, Estada? Have I not a scar here which
tells?"

"True, enough; and have I not received also my lesson--eight hours
staked face upward in the sun. So 'tis my very life wagered on this
being the place named. Besides 'tis proven by the sloop lying there
by the wharf."

"Where then is the Captain?" perversely unsatisfied.

"At the house yonder on the hill--where else? He knew how it would be,
for this is not his first visit to the Bay. 'Twas because of his
knowledge he could plan in England. Tis the custom of these planters
to stop by night along the way, and go ashore; not to camp, but as
guests of some friend. Only beforehand it was not possible for him to
know which plantation would be the one chosen. That was what he must
signal. You see it now?"

"Clearly, Estada; he is the same wary fox as of old."

"Never do they catch him napping," proudly. "Santa Maria! have I not
seen it tried often in ten years?"

"About his plan here? He wrote you his purpose?"

"Not so much as a word; merely the order what to do. Dios! he tells
nothing, for he trusts no man. A good thing that. Yet I have my own
thought, Manuel."

"And what is that?"

The other hesitated, as though endeavoring to rearrange the idea in
his own mind, and possibly doubtful of how much to confide to his
companion. When he finally replied his words came forth so swiftly I
could scarcely grasp their meaning with my slight knowledge of the
tongue.

"'Tis no more than that I make a guess, friend, yet I have been with
the Captain for ten years now, and know his way. This planter Fairfax
is rich. The letter says nothing of that--no, not a word; but I made
inquiries ashore. There is no one more wealthy in these Colonies, and
he returns now from London, after the sale of his tobacco crop. No
doubt he sold for his neighbors also. 'Tis the way they do, form a
combine, and send an agent to England to get the best price. He will
surely bear back with him a great sum. This the Senor knows; nor is it
the first time he has done the trick, Manuel. Santa Maria! 'tis the
easiest one of all. Then there is the girl."

"The one who was aboard the sloop?"

"Of course. I knew nothing of her, but I have keen eyes, and I have
been long with the Senor. Marked you not how he approached her? No sea
rover ever had greater desire for women, or won them easier. 'Tis a
bright eye and red lip that wins him from all else. Even to me this
one looked a rare beauty; yet am I sorry he found her, for it may
delay the task here."

"Why must you fear that?"

"Bah! but you are stupid. Who will take by force what may be won by a
few soft words?" He paused suddenly, evidently struck by a new
thought. "Yet I think, Manuel, the Captain may have failed in this
case. I watched their greeting, and her's was not that of love. If
this be true, we strike at once, while it is safe."

"Here, you mean--tonight?"

"And why not here, and tonight? Is there a better spot or time? With
another night the sloop will be far up the Bay, while now from where
we are anchored, we could be beyond the Capes by daybreak, with the
broad ocean before us. We are five--six with the Senor--and our ship
lies but a short league away, ready for sea. There are only four men
on the sloop, with some servants above--spiritless fellows. Why else
should he have signaled our coming, unless there was work to do? That
will be the plan, to my notion--the money and the girl in one swoop;
then a quick sail to the southward. Pist! 'tis boys' play."

The other seemed to lick his lips, as though the picture thus drawn
greatly pleased him.

"Gracioso Dios! I hope 'tis so. It has been dull enough here this
month past. I am for blue water, and an English ship to sack."

"Or, better yet, a week at Porto Grande--hey, Manuel? The girls are
not so bad, with clink of gold in the pocket after a cruise. Wait,
though--there is someone coming down."

I crouched backward into the bushes, and, a moment later, the newcomer
moved past me scarcely a yard distant, along the narrow strip of sand.
He appeared no more than a black shadow, wrapped in a loose cloak,
thus rendered so shapeless as to be scarcely recognizable. Directly
opposite my covert he paused peering forward in uncertainty.

"Estada." He spoke the name cautiously, and in doubt.

"Ay, Captain," and another figure, also shapeless, and ill-defined,
emerged noiselessly from the gloom. "We await you."

"Good," the tone one of relief. "I rather questioned if you caught my
signal. I was watched, and obliged to exercise care. How many have you
here?"

"Four, Senor, with Manuel Estevan."

"Quite sufficient; and how about the others?"

"All safely aboard, Senor; asleep in their bunks by now, but ready.
Francois LeVere has charge of the deck watch."

"Ah! how happens it the quadroon is with you? A good choice, yet that
must mean the _Vengeance_ is still at Porto Grande. For what reason?"

"Because of greater injuries than we supposed, Captain. There were two
shots in her below the water line, and to get at them we were obliged
to beach her. LeVere came with us, expecting this job would be done
before now, for by this time the schooner should be in water again,
her sides scraped clean of barnacles, fit for any cruise. We have been
waiting for you along this coast for several weeks."

"Yes, I know. The boat we intended to take met with an accident, while
the one we did take proved the slowest tub that ever sailed. How is it
here? Are there suspicions?"

"None, Senor. We have cruised outside most of the time. Only once were
we hailed; while Manuel, with a boat crew, was ashore for nearly a
week, picking up such news as he might. There is no warship in these
waters."

"So I discovered on landing; indeed I was told as much in England.
However your disguise is perfect."

Estada laughed.

"There is no mistaking where the _Namur_ came from, Senor; she's
Holland from keel to topmast, but the best sailing Dutchman I ever
saw. You said you were being watched on the sloop. Are you known?"

The other uttered an oath snarling through his teeth.

"'Tis nothing," he explained contemptuously. "No more than the bite of
a harmless snake in the grass. A dog of a servant who came over with
us--one of Monmouth's brood. He has no knowledge of who I am, nor
suspicion of my purpose. It is not that, yet the fellow watches me
like a hawk. We had some words aboard and there is hate between us"

"If he was indentured, how came he on the sloop?"

"Fairfax bought him. The fellow won the interest of the girl coming
over, and she interceded in his behalf. It was my plan to get him into
my own hands. I'd have taught him a lesson, but the papers were signed
before we landed. Yet the lad is not through with me; I do not let go
in a hurry."

"May I ask you your plans, Senor?"

"Yes, I am here to explain. Are we out of ear-shot?"

"None can hear us. Manuel has gone back to the boat."

"Then listen. This planter, Fairfax, has returned from England with a
large sum. It is in gold and notes. I have been unable to learn the
exact amount, but it represents the proceeds in cash of the tobacco
crop of himself, and a number of his neighbors. They pooled, and made
him their agent. Without doubt, from all I could ascertain, it will be
upward of fifty thousand pounds--not a bad bit of pocket money. This
still remains in his possession, but a part will be dispersed
tomorrow; so if we hope to gain the whole, we must do so now."

"Fifty thousand pounds, you say? Gracioso Dios! a sum worth fighting
for."

"Ay; we've done some hard fighting for less. It is here under our very
hands, and there could be no better place than this in which to take
it. Everything is ready, and there is not the slightest suspicion of
danger--not even a guard set over the treasure. I assured myself of
this before coming down."

"Then it is at the house?"

"In an iron-bound chest, carried up from the sloop, and placed in the
room assigned to Fairfax for the night. He considers it perfectly safe
under his bed. But before we attempt reaching this, we must attend to
those men left below on the boat. They are the only dangerous ones,
for there are none of the fighting sort up above. Only two servants
sleep in the main house, the cook, and a maid, both women. The others
are in the slave quarters, a half mile away. Fairfax is vigorous, and
will put up a fight, if he has any chance. He must be taken care of,
before he does have any. Travers is an old man, to be knocked out with
a blow. All we have to fear are those fellows on the sloop, and they
will have to be attended to quietly, without any alarm reaching the
house. I am going to leave that job to you--it's not your first."

"The old sea orders, Captain?"

"Ay, that will be quicker, and surer," The voice hardened in gust of
sudden ferocity. "But, mark you, with one exception--the Englishman is
not to be killed, if he can be taken alive. I would deal with him."

"How are we to recognize him from the others?"

"Pish! a blind man would know--he is the only one of that blood on
board, taller, and heavier of build, with blond hair. A mistake, and
you pay for it. Besides him there are two negroes, and an Irish fool.
It matters not what happens to them; a knife to the heart is the more
silent; but I would have this Geoffry Carlyle left alive to face me.
You will do well to remember."

"I will pass the word to the men."

"See that you do. Then after that," Sanchez went on deliberately, as
though murder was of small account, "you will follow me up the bluff.
Who are the others with you?"

"Carl Anderson, Pedro Mendez, and Cochose."

"Well chosen; Mendez is the least valuable, and we will leave him with
the prisoner at the boat. The big negro, Cochose, together with
Manuel, can attend to Travers, and the two negresses--they sleep
below. That will leave you and the Swede to get the chest. No
firearms, if they can be avoided."

"You are certain of the way, Senor--in the dark?"

"I have been over the house, and drawn a rude diagram. You can look it
over in the cabin of the sloop, after affairs have been attended to
there. The stairs lead up from the front hall. I will go with you to
the door of Fairfax's room."

Estada hesitated, as though afraid to further question his chief, yet
finally, in spite of this fear, the query broke from his lips.

"And you, Senor--the girl?"

"What know you of any girl?"

"That there was one on the deck of the sloop--an English beauty. It
was when you turned to greet her that you gave me the signal. I merely
thought that perhaps--"

"Then stop thinking," burst forth Sanchez enraged. "Thinking has
nothing to do with your work. If there is a girl, I attend to her. Let
that suffice. Dios! am I chief here, or are you? You have my orders,
now obey them, and hold your tongue. Bring the men up here."

Without a word, evidently glad to escape thus easily, Estada vanished
into the gloom, leaving behind only the vague figure of Sanchez pacing
the sands, his lips muttering curses. I dared not move, scarcely
indeed to breathe, so closely did he skirt my covert. To venture forth
would mean certain discovery; nor could I hope to steal away through
the bushes, where any twig might snap beneath my foot. What could I
do? How could I bring warning to those sleeping victims? This
heartless discussion of robbery and murder left me cold with horror,
yet helpless to lift a hand. I had no thought of myself, of my
possible fate when once delivered into the hands of this monster, this
arch villain, but all my agony of mind centered on the imminent danger
confronting Dorothy Fairfax, and those unsuspecting men. All my
preconceived impressions of Sanchez had vanished; he was no longer in
my imagination a weakling, a boastful, cowardly bravado, a love-sick
fool; but a leader of desperate men, a villain of the deepest dye--the
dreaded pirate, Black Sanchez, whose deeds of crime were without
number, and whose name was infamous. Confronted by Fairfax's
ill-guarded gold, maddened by the girl's contemptuous indifference, no
deed of violence and blood was too revolting for him to commit. What
he could not win by words, he would seize by force and make his own.
As coolly as another might sell a bolt of cloth, he would plan murder
and rape, and then smilingly watch the execution. And I--what could I
do?

The little band of men emerged from the concealment of the fog
noiselessly, and gathered into a group about the figure of Sanchez,
where he stood motionless awaiting them. I could distinguish no faces,
scarcely indeed the outlines of their separate forms in the gloom, but
one was an unusually big fellow, far taller and heavier than his
companions. When he spoke he possessed a negro's voice, and I
recognized him at once for Cochose. The Captain swept his impatient
eyes about the circle.

"Lads," he said, incisively, a sharper note of leadership in the tone
"it has been a bit quiet for you lately; but now I am back again, and
we'll try our luck at sea once more. There must be many a laden ship
waiting for us. Does that sound good?"

There was a savage growl of response, a sudden leaning forward of dark
figures.

"I thought it would. We'll begin on a job tonight. There are fifty
thousand pounds for us in that house yonder, and I waive my share.
Estada will explain to you the work I want done; see that you do it
quietly and well. By daylight we shall be on blue water, with our
course set for Porto Grande. How is it, bullies, do you sniff the salt
sea?"

"Ay, ay, Captain."

"And see the pretty girls waiting--and hear the chink of gold?"

"Ay, Senor."

"Then do not fail me tonight--and remember, it is to be the knife.
Estada."

"Here, Senor."

"I have forgotten one thing--scuttle the sloop before joining me. 'Tis
better to make all safe; and now, strong arms, and good luck. Go to
your task, and if one fails me, it will mean the lash at the
mast-butt."

They moved off one by one, Estada leading, along the narrow strip of
sand, five of them, on their mission of murder. The leader remained
alone, his back toward where I crouched, his eyes following their
vanishing figures, until the night had swallowed them.




CHAPTER VIII

A VICTORY, AND A DEFEAT


I arose silently to my feet, conscious of possessing no weapon, yet
fully aware that all hope of thwarting this villainy lay in immediate
action. But I must await the right moment. Even with the advantage of
surprise, there would inevitably be the noise of struggle. I had in
the past despised Sanchez, but I had never yet tested him as a
fighting man, and, indeed, no longer considered the fellow to be a
mean antagonist. Remembering who he was, I now realized fully the
desperate nature of my attempt, the need of quick, remorseless action.
Nevertheless I dared not attack until assured that those men he had
just dispatched were safely beyond ear-shot. I could hear or see
nothing of them; they had vanished utterly, and the soft sand returned
no echo of their footsteps. Time alone gave me judgment as to the
distance they would travel. If I yielded too much of this, they might
attain the sloop before I could sound an alarm; while if I moved too
quickly the noise would bring them back to the rescue. The moments
were agony, as I bent tensely forward, poised for a leap. God! I could
wait no longer!

Sanchez had turned slightly, apparently immersed in thought, and stood
with his face toward the Bay. Even in that darkness his position was
that of a man intently listening for the slightest sound to reach him
out of the black night. I ventured a cautious step forward, and stood
on the open sand, scarcely a yard to his rear, every nerve throbbing,
my lips still silently counting the seconds. I could not, I dared not
wait longer. Some vague sense of my presence must have influenced the
man, for he swung suddenly about, uttering a stifled cry of startled
surprise, as we met face to face. For an instant we were locked so
closely within each other's desperate grip, his head bent beneath my
arm, with my fingers clutching at his throat to block any call for
help, that he possessed no knowledge of his assailant's identity. But
the man was like a tiger, possessed of immense strength encased in a
wiry frame. The surprise of attack was to my advantage, yet almost
before I realized what was being done, he had rallied, broken my first
hold, and his eyes were glaring straight into mine. Then he knew me,
signaling his discovery with an oath, his free hand instantly grasping
at the knife concealed beneath his loose cloak. Even as he jerked it
forth, I crushed his wrist within my fingers, forcing his fore-arm
back. Breast to breast we wrestled for mastery, every muscle strained,
our feet firm planted on the sand. There was no outcry, no noise,
except that of our heavy breathing, and trampling feet. Personal
hatred had ascendancy in both our hearts--I doubt if he ever thought
of aught else but the desire to kill me there with his own hands. Only
once did he even utter a word, hissing out the sentence as though it
were a poison:

"To hell with you, you sneaking English cur!"

"Then I travel that road not alone," I muttered back. "There will be
one less of the devil's brood afloat."

What followed has to me no clearness, no consistency. I remember, yet
it is as though memory played me a thousand tricks. Never have I
fought more wickedly, nor with deeper realization that I needed every
ounce of strength, and every trick of wit and skill. I had not before
dreamed he was such a man; but now I knew the fellow possessed greater
knowledge of the game than I, and a quicker movement; I alone excelled
in weight of body, and coolness of brain. His efforts were those of an
infuriated animal, his uncontrolled outburst of hatred rendering him
utterly reckless of results in his struggle to overcome me at any
cost. It was this blind blood-lust which gave me victory. I know not
clearly how it was done; my only memory being his frantic efforts to
drive home the knife point, and mine to defeat the thrust. Twice he
pricked me deep enough to draw blood, before I succeeded in twisting
backward the arm with which he held the blade. It was a sailor's trick
of last resort, heartlessly cruel in its agony, but I felt then no
call to mercy. He met the game too late, falling half back upon one
knee, hoping thus to foil my purpose, yet my greater weight saved me.
There was the sharp crack of a bone, as his useless fingers let the
knife drop, a snarled curse of pain, and then, with the rage of a mad
dog, Sanchez struck his teeth deep into my cheek. The sharp pang of
pain drove me to frenzy, and for the first time I lost all control, my
one free hand seeking to reach the lost knife. With a thrill of
exultation I gripped it, driving instantly the keen blade to its hilt
into the man's side. He made no cry, no struggle--the set teeth
unlocked, and he fell limply back on the sand, his head lapped by the
waves.

I remained poised above him, spent and breathless from struggle,
scarcely conscious even as to what had occurred so swiftly, the
dripping knife in my hand, blood streaming down my cheek, and still
infuriated by blind passion. The fellow lay motionless, his face
upturned to the sky, but invisible except in dim outline. It did not
seem possible he could actually be dead; I had struck blindly, with no
knowledge as to where the keen blade had penetrated--a mere desperate
lunge. I rested my ear over his heart, detecting no murmur of
response; touched the veins of his wrist, but found there no answering
throb of life. Still dazed and uncertain, I arose staggering to my
feet, conscious at last that the man must actually be dead, yet, for
the moment, so surprised by the discovery as to scarcely realize its
significance. Not that I regretted the act, not that I experienced the
slightest remorse, yet, for an instant, the shock seemed to leave me
nerveless and unstrung. Only a moment since I was engaged in desperate
struggle, and now I could only stare down at the dark lines of that
motionless body outstretched upon the sand.

Then I remembered those others--the unconscious sleepers on the deck
of the sloop; those blood-stained villains creeping toward them
through the black shadows of the night. The memory was like a dash of
water in the face. With the death-dealing knife still gripped in my
hand, I raced forward along the narrow strip of sand, reckless of what
I might encounter, eager only to arrive in time to give utterance to a
shout of warning. I could not have covered more than half the
distance when the first sound of attack reached me--far-off, gurgling
cry of agony, which pierced the darkness like the scream of a dying
soul. The heart leaped into my throat, yet I ran on, unhalted, unseen,
until the planks of the wharf were beneath my feet, the low side of
the sloop looming black before me. There was confusion aboard, the
sounds of struggle, mingled with curses and blows. With one upward
swing of my body I was safely aboard, knife still in hand, peering
eagerly forward. Through the gloom concealing the deck, I could
perceive only dim figures, a riot of men, battling furiously hand to
hand, yet out of the ruck loomed through the darkness in larger
outline than the others---Cochose, the negro. I leaped at the fellow,
and struck with the keen knife, missing the heart, but plunging the
blade deep into the flesh of the shoulder. The next instant I was in a
bear's grip, the very breath crushed out of me, yet, by some chance,
my one arm remained free, and I drove the sharp steel into him twice
before he forced the weapon from my fingers. Through a wrestler's
trick, although my wrist was as numb as if dead from his fierce grip,
I thrust an elbow beneath the brute's chin, and thus forced his head
back, until the neck cracked.

This respite served merely for the moment, yet sufficiently long to
win me a firm foot-hold on deck, and a breath of night air. He was too
strong, too immense of stature. Apparently unweakened by his wounds,
the giant negro, thoroughly aroused, exerted his mighty muscles, and,
despite my utmost effort at resistance, thrust me back against the
stern rail, where the weight of his body pinned me helplessly. With a
roar of rage he drove his huge fist into my face, but happily was too
close to give much force to the blow. My own hands, gripping the
neck-band of his coarse shirt, twisted it tight about the great
throat, until, in desperation, panting for breath, the huge brute
actually lifted me in his arms, and hurled me backward, headlong over
the rail. I struck something as I fell, yet rebounding from this,
splashed into the deep water, and went down so nearly unconscious as
to make not even the slightest struggle. I had no strength left in me,
no desire to save myself, and I sank like a stone. And yet I came up
once more to the surface, arising by sheer chance, directly beneath
the small dory--which my body must have struck as I fell--towing by a
painter astern of the sloop, and fortunately retained sense enough to
cling desperately to this first thing my hands touched, and thus
remained concealed.

This occurred through complete exhaustion, rather than the exercising
of any judgment, for, had it not been for this providential support, I
would surely have drowned without a struggle. Every breath I drew was
in pain; I felt as though my ribs had been crushed in, while I had
lost sufficient blood to leave me as weak as a babe. I simply clung
there desperately, hopelessly, yet the salt water soon served to
revive me physically, and even my brain began to arouse from its daze
to a faint realization of the conditions. The small dory to which I
clung, caught in some mysterious current, floated at the very
extremity of its slender towline, and in consequence the sloop
appeared little more than a mere smudge, when my eyes endeavored to
discover its outlines. Evidently the bloody work had been completed,
for now all was silent on board. I could not even detect the sound of
a footstep on the deck. Then, clear enough to be distinctly heard
across the narrow strip of water, came the voice of Estada, in a gruff
inquiry:

"So you are hiding here, Cochose? What are you looking for in the
sea?"

"What? Why that damned Englishman." The response was a savage growl,
intensified by husky dialect. "Mon Dieu! He fought me like a mad rat."

"The Englishman, you say? He was here then? It was he you battled
with? What became of the fellow?"

"He went down there, Senor. The dog stabbed me three times. It was
either he or I to go."

"You mean you threw him overboard?"

"Ay, with his ribs crushed in, and not a breath left in his damned
body. He's never come up even--I've watched, and there has not been so
much as a ripple where he sank."

The two must have hung in silence over the rail staring down. I dared
not advance my head to look, nor even move a muscle of my body in the
water, but both were still standing there when Estada finally gave
utterance to an oath.

"How know you it was the man?"

"Who else could it have been? You have the others."

"Ay, true enough; yet it will go hard with you, Cochose, when the
Captain learns of this--he would have the fellow alive."

"As well attempt to take a tiger with bare hands--see, the blood yet
runs; a single inch to the left, and it would be I fed to the fishes.
Pah! what is the difference, Senor, so the man dies?"

"Right enough, no doubt; anyway it is not I who must face Sanchez, and
it is too late now to change fate. Let's to the rest of our task. You
can still do your part?"

The giant negro growled.

"Ay; I have been worse hurt, yet a bit of cloth would help me."

"Let Carl see to that, while I gain glimpse at this map of the house
up yonder. Come forward with me to the cabin, till I light a candle.
How came you aft here?"

"Because that fellow leaped the rail from the wharf. I saw him, and we
met at the wheel."

"From the wharf, you say? He was not aboard then? Santa Maria! I know
not what that may mean. Yet what difference, so he be dead. Anderson,
Mendez, throw that carrion overboard--no, bullies, never mind; let
them lie where they are, and sink an auger in the sloop's bottom. That
will settle the whole matter. What is that out yonder, Cochose?"

"A small boat, Senor--a dory, I make it."

"Cut the rope, and send it adrift. Now come along with me."

The darker loom of the sloop vanished slowly, as the slight current
sweeping about the end of the wharf drifted the released boat to which
I clung outward into the Bay. The faint echo of a voice floated to my
ears across the widening expanse of water, and then all was silent as
the night closed in darkly between. There was scarcely a ripple to
the sea, and yet I felt that the boat was steadily drifting out into
deeper water. I was still strangely weak, barely able to retain my
grasp, with a peculiar dullness in my head, which made me fearful that
at any moment I might let go. I was not even conscious of thinking, or
capable of conceiving clearly my situation, yet I must have realized
vaguely the immediate necessity of action, for finally I mustered
every ounce of remaining energy in one supreme effort, and succeeded
in dragging my body up out of water over the boat's stern, sinking
helplessly forward into the bottom. The moment this was accomplished
every sense deserted me, and I lay there motionless, totally
unconscious.

I shall never know how long I remained thus, the little dory in which
I lay rocked aimlessly about by the waves, and constantly drifting in
the grasp of unseen currents farther and farther out into the Bay. The
blackness of the night swallowed us, as tossed by wind and sea, we
were borne on through the waste unguided. Yet this time could not have
been great. As though awakening from sleep a faint consciousness
returned, causing me to lift my head, and stare hopelessly about into
the curtain of mist overhanging the water. At first, with nothing
surrounding to awaken memory into action, only that dull vista of sea
and sky, my mind refused to respond to any impression; then the sharp
pain of my wounds, accented by the sting of salt water, brought me
swift realization of where I was, and the circumstances bringing me
there. My wet clothing had partially dried on my body as I lay there
motionless in the bottom of the boat, and now, with every movement,
chafed the raw spots, rendering the slightest motion a physical
agony. I had evidently lost considerable blood, yet this had already
ceased to flow, and a very slight examination served to convince me
that the knife slashes were none of them serious. Beyond these
punctures of the flesh, while I ached from head to foot, my other
injuries were merely bruises to add to my discomfort--the result of
blows dealt me by Sanchez and Cochose, aggravated by the bearlike hug
of the giant negro. Indeed, I awoke to the discovery that I was far
from being a dead man; and, inspired by this knowledge, the various
incidents of the night flashed swiftly back into my mind. How long had
I been lying there unconscious, adrift in the open boat? How far had
we floated from land? Where were we now, and in the meantime what had
occurred ashore?

These were questions impossible to answer. I could not even attempt
their solution. No gleam of light appeared in any direction; no sound
echoed across the dark waste of water. Far above, barely visible
through a floating veil of haze, I was able to detect the faint gleam
of stars, and was sailor enough to determine through their guidance
some certainty as to the points of compass; yet possessed no means by
which to ascertain the time of night, or the position of the boat.
With this handicap it was clearly impossible for me to attempt any
return to the wharf through the impenetrable black curtain which shut
me in. What then could I do? What might I still hope to accomplish? At
first thought the case appeared hopeless. Those fellows had swept the
sloop clean, and had doubtless long ago scuttled it. This ruthless
deed once accomplished, their orders were to raid the house on the
bluff. But would they go on with their bloody work? They would
suddenly find themselves leaderless, unguided. Would that suffice to
stop them? The vivid memory came to me anew of that arch villain,
Sanchez, lying where I had left him, his head resting in the
surf--dead. Would the discovery of his body halt his followers, and
send them rushing back to their boat, eager only to get safely away?
This did not seem likely. Estada knew of my boarding the sloop from
the wharf, and would at once connect the fact of my being ashore with
the killing of Sanchez. This would satisfy him there was no further
danger. Besides, these were not men to be easily frightened at sight
of a dead body, even that of their own captain. They might hesitate,
discuss, but they would never flee in panic. Surely not with that
ruffian Estada yet alive to lead them, and the knowledge that fifty
thousand pounds was yonder in that unguarded house, with no one to
protect the treasure but two old men asleep, and the women. The
women!--Dorothy! What would become of her? Into whose hands would she
fall in that foul division of spoils? Estada's? Good God--yes! And I,
afloat and helpless in this boat, what could I do?




CHAPTER IX

A SWIM TO THE NAMUR


All was black, hopeless; with head buried in my hands I sat on a
thwart, dazed and stupefied, seemingly even unable to think clearly.
Before me, pleading, expressive of agonized despair, arose the sweet
face of Dorothy Fairfax. Nothing else counted with me at that moment
but her safety--the protecting her from the touch of that
blood-stained brute. Yet how, and through what means, could such
rescue be accomplished? No doubt by this time all was over--the dead
body of Sanchez discovered, the projected attack on the house carried
out, the two old men left behind, either dead or severely wounded, and
the girl borne off a helpless prisoner, together with the treasure of
fifty thousand pounds. Even if I knew where the drifting boat had
taken me, which way to turn to once again attain the wharf, the
probability remained that I should arrive altogether too late to be of
slightest service--the dastardly deed had already been accomplished.
Ay, but this I knew; there was only one place to which the villains
might flee with their booty--the _Namur of Rotterdam_. Only on those
decks, and well at sea, would they be safe, or able to enjoy their
spoils. The thought came to me in sudden revelation--why not? Was not
here a chance even yet to foil them? With Sanchez dead, no man aboard
that pirate craft would recognize me. I felt assured of this. I had
fought the giant negro in the dark; he could not, during that fierce
encounter, have distinguished my features any more clearly than I had
his own. There was no one else to fear. Although I had been stationed
at the wheel of the sloop as we swept past the _Namur_ while at anchor
the day before, yet Estada, watching anxiously for the secret signal
of his chief, would never have accorded me so much as a glance. His
interest was concentrated elsewhere, and, in all probability, he could
not swear whether I was black or white. If others of that devilish
crew had been secretly watching our deck it was with no thought of me;
and not one of them would retain any memory of my appearance. If only
I might once succeed in getting safely aboard, slightly disguised
perhaps, and mingle unnoticed among the crew, the chances were not bad
for me to pass undetected. No doubt they were a heterogeneous bunch,
drawn from every breed and race, and in no small force either, for
their trade was not so much seamanship as rapine and fighting. Such
ships carried large crews, and were constantly changing in personnel.
A strange face appearing among them need not arouse undue suspicion.
From what Estada had reported to Sanchez, I knew boats had been sent
ashore on this coast. What more likely then than that some new recruit
had returned to the bark, attracted by a sailor's tale? Who would know
how the stranger came among them, or question his presence, unless
suspicion became aroused? Even if questioned, a good story, easily
told, might win the trick. Before daylight came, and already well at
sea beyond pursuit, inconspicuous among the others, accepted as mate
by the men, unrecognized even by the officers, there was scarcely a
probability that anyone aboard would note, or question my presence.

And I felt convinced I could locate the _Namur_. Ay, even in that
darkness I could find the bark, if the vessel yet swung at her former
anchorage. The task would not even be a difficult one. The stars gave
me the compass points, and I recalled with some clearness the general
trend of the coast line as we came up. But could I hope to attain the
ship in advance of the returning party of raiders? To succeed in my
object this must be done, because the moment these reached the deck
the bark would hastily depart for the open sea. And if I was to
accomplish this end it must be attempted at once. The call to action,
the possibility of thus being of service to Dorothy, seemed instantly
to awaken all my dormant energies; the painful chafing of my wounds
was forgotten, while new strength returned miraculously to my bruised
body. God helping me, I would try! My brain throbbed with fresh
resolution--the call to action.

There were oars in the boat. I had noticed these dumbly before, but
now I drew them eagerly forth from the bottom, and quickly fitted them
into the oarlocks. They were stout, ashen blades, unusually large for
the craft in which they had been stowed, yet workable. The boat itself
was a mere shell, scarcely capable of sustaining safely more than
three persons, but with lines of speed, its sharp prow cutting the
water like a knife blade. I shipped the useless rudder inboard, and
chose my course from the stars. The north star was completely obscured
by thick clouds, but the great dipper gave me my bearings with
sufficient accuracy. To attain again to the west coast not far from
where the great point projected outward into the Bay, and behind which
the bark swung at anchor, required, according to my understanding of
our present position, that I head the boat toward the southwest. I
bent earnestly to the oars, and the speed of the craft was most
encouraging, especially as my strength and energy seemed to increase
with each stroke. My mind brightened also quite perceptibly, as the
violent exercise sent the blood coursing anew through my veins. Before
I realized the change I had become thoroughly convinced that the
course I had chosen was the wisest one possible.

It was wild, and desperate, to be sure. I was not blind to its danger,
and yet nothing else offered any solution. The only probable chance
now for me to prove of direct service to the captive girl lay in being
near her while she remained with these men. If, by any good fortune,
she had thus far succeeded in escaping from Estada and his gang of
ruffians, I would learn this fact more surely aboard the _Namur_ than
in any other way; and, once assured as to this, could certainly find
some means of early escape from the ship. While, if she was captured
and taken aboard, as was most probable, for me to be left behind on
shore would mean her total abandonment. Better any risk of discovery
than that. To be sure I had no plan of action devised, no conception
of how a rescue could be effected. Yet such an opportunity might
develop, and my one hope lay in being prepared, and ready. With the
death of Sanchez, his second in command would undoubtedly succeed
him; but would that be Estada, or would it be this other, the mulatto,
Francois LeVere? More likely the former, for while buccaneers had
operated under colored chiefs, a crew of white men would naturally
prefer to be led by one of their own color. Indeed it was even
possible that a controversy might arise, and a divided authority
result. Discipline among such as these depended entirely on strength
and ferocity. The most daring and resourceful became the chosen
leaders, whose only test was success. Perhaps, in the turmoil, and
uncertainty, arising from a knowledge of Sanchez's death, and the
jealousy thus aroused between those who would succeed him in command,
I might discover the very opportunity I sought. These were some of the
thoughts which animated me, and gave new strength to my arms, as I
sent the dory flying through the water.

My boat, unguided, had drifted considerably farther out into the Bay
than I had supposed, and it required a good half hour of steady toil
at the oars before I sighted ahead of me the darker outlines of the
shore. Nothing had crossed our path, and no unusual sound had reached
my ears along the black water. If the _Namur's_ boat had already
returned to the bark, its passage must have been made during the
period of my unconsciousness, and this seemed to me utterly
impossible. The course I had followed thus far took me directly across
the water which they would be compelled to traverse, and they could
not have passed unnoticed. No, they were surely yet in the
neighborhood of Travers' plantation. The men engaged in that night's
bloody business, would have been compelled to carry it out under many
obstacles; they would be delayed by consternation at the discovery of
their dead leader lying on the sand, and by their lack of knowledge
regarding the interior of the house on the summit of the bluff. Quite
likely also this lack of a guide would result in an alarm, and
consequent struggle, perhaps even in the serious injury of some among
them before they secured possession of the money, and the girl. In any
case it must have resulted in delay. Convinced of this, and confident
that I was already well in advance of them, I drew in as closely as I
dared to the dim outline of shore, and studied it carefully, in an
endeavor to learn my exact position.

Although the sloop in its voyage up the Bay had never been out of
sight of this coast, had indeed skirted it closely all the way, yet my
memory of its more prominent landmarks was extremely vague. I had made
no effort to impress them on my mind. Therefore at first I could
identify nothing, but finally, out of the grotesque, shifting shadows,
dimly appearing against the slightly lighter sky beyond, there
suddenly arose, clearly defined, the gaunt limbs of a dead tree,
bearing a faint resemblance to a gigantic cross. I recalled that Sam
had chanced to point this out to me on our upward voyage, and this
glimpse obtained of it again now told me exactly where I had made
shore. This peculiar mark was at the extremity of the first headland
lying north of the point itself, and consequently a straight course
across the Bay, would land me within five hundred yards of where the
_Namur_ had last been seen at anchor.

To a degree my immediate plan of action had been definitely mapped
out within my own mind while toiling at the oars. At least I had
arrived at certain conclusions. The one immediate object before me was
to attain the bark in advance of Estada. I now was convinced that thus
far I was safely ahead. The night wind was light, and baffling, not
greatly affecting my own progress, but of a nature to retard
considerably the sail-boat, and compel a series of wide tacks, so as
to enable those on board to round the point. All this distance I could
avoid by beaching my dory, and striking out on foot directly across
the narrow neck of land. The _Namur_, unless her position had been
changed since darkness set in, was not so far out from shore as to
make swimming to her a dangerous feat; and I could approach and board
her with far less chance of discovery in that manner, than by the use
of a boat. The watch on deck would undoubtedly be a vigilant one, yet
no eye could detect through that darkness--unless by sheer accident--a
submerged swimmer, cautiously advancing with silent strokes. The
greater danger would come after I had attained the deck, wet to the
skin.

The sharp bow of the dory ran up on the soft sand of the beach, and I
stepped ashore, hauling the light boat after me beyond the reach of
the waves. The night remained calm and still, although the scudding
clouds were thickening overhead, until scarcely a single star remained
visible. The sea behind me was overhung by a black curtain, yet, by
bending low, I could look along the surface for some distance where
the heaving water reflected from wave to wave what little light there
was. The beach was a narrow one, and only a few feet away the neck of
land became elevated into a leveled crest, thickly covered with
trees, their upper branches dimly visible from where I stood. Judging
from the trend of the coast, it would be necessary for me to strike
directly across to the opposite shore, but in this journey special
caution was not required. There would be no one in the midst of this
desolate region to interfere with my progress, or be alarmed by any
noise I might make. Close to shore as the _Namur_ lay, no ordinary
sound from the land could be heard aboard, even in the silence of
night, nor was it likely the crew would be watchful in that direction.
Unquestionably the entire attention of the deck watch at this hour
would be concentrated on the expected return of their expedition
around the distant point--seeking the glimpse of a white sail above
the black water.

To the best of my recollection the bark floated with bow pointing
toward the open sea. The sweep of the current about the point was
inshore, making the drift of the vessel strong against the anchor
hawser. This would naturally bring her with broadside to the eastward,
from which direction the absent boat must return. If this proved
correct then, in all probability, the deck watch would largely be
gathered on that side, even the attention of the officer more or less
drawn in that direction. No doubt they had orders to be ready for
instant departure the moment the approaching boat was sighted, and the
lookout for it would be keen. It was, as I stood there, revolving
these matters in my mind, with eyes endeavoring to pierce the
surrounding darkness, and ears strained to detect the slightest sound,
that there came to me the first real consciousness of the reckless
nature of this adventure upon which I had so lightly embarked. Surely
it was but the dream of a crazed man, foredoomed to failure. As I
faced then the probabilities, there scarcely seemed one chance in a
hundred that any such scheme as I proposed would succeed. And yet I
must admit there was the one chance; and in no other action could I
perceive even that much encouragement. If Dorothy Fairfax was already
in the hands of these men, then my only opportunity for serving her
lay in my being close at hand. No alternative presented itself; no
other effort could be effective. It was already too late to attempt
the organization of a rescue party; there was no warship on the coast,
and the authorities of the Colony possessed no vessel fitted for
pursuit. Long before daylight came, or I might hope to spread an alarm
abroad, the _Namur_ would be safely at sea. No, the only choice left
was for me either to accompany the girl, or else abandon her entirely
to her captors. I must either face the possibility of discovery and
capture, which as surely meant torture and death, or otherwise play
the coward, and remain impotently behind. There was no safe course to
pursue. I believed that I could play my part among the crew, once
securely established among them; that I could succeed in escaping
recognition even on the part of Cochose. If this was true, then, to a
stout heart and ready hand, a way might open even aboard the bark to
protect her from the final closing of the devil's jaws. I had nothing
to risk but my life, and it had never been my nature to count odds. I
would act as the heart bade, and so I drove the temptation to falter
away, and strode on up the bank into the black shadow of the trees.

I found extremely hard walking as I advanced through tangled
underbrush, over unlevel ground, the night so dark in those shadows I
could but barely perceive the outlines of a hand held before the eyes.
Fortunately the distance was even shorter than I had anticipated, but,
when I finally emerged upon the opposite beach, it was at once quite
evident that the sea beating upon the sand was decidedly heavier than
higher up the Bay, the white line of breakers showing conspicuously
even in the night, while their continuous roar sounded loud through
the silence. It was not until after I had advanced cautiously into the
water, and then stooped low to thus gain clearer vision along the
surface, that I succeeded in locating the vessel sought. Even then the
_Namur_ appeared only as a mere shadow, without so much as a light
showing aboard, yet apparently anchored in the same position as when
we had swept past the previous afternoon. The slightly brighter sky
above served to reveal the tracery of bare poles, while the hull was
no more than a blot in the gloom, utterly shapeless, and appearing to
be much farther away than it was in reality. Indeed, as the sky
gradually darkened the entire vision vanished, as though it had been
one of those strange mirages I had seen in the African deserts. Yet I
knew with certainty the ship was there, had sufficient time in which
to mark its position accurately, and rejoiced at the increase of
darkness to conceal my approach. Guided by this memory I waded
straight out through the lines of surf, until all excepting the head
became completely submerged. If I was to reach the bark at all, this
was the one opportunity.

I stood there, resisting the undertow tugging at my limbs, and barely
able to retain my footing, intent upon my purpose. Full strength had
come back to my muscles, and my head was again clear. The imminent
sense of danger seemed to bring me a feeling of happiness, of new
confidence in myself. The die was cast, and whatever the result, I was
going ahead to accomplish all that was humanly possible. From now on
there was to be no doubting, no turning back. A voice, high-pitched,
echoed to me across the water, reaching my ears a mere thread of
sound, the words indistinguishable. It must have been an order, for, a
moment later, I distinguished the clank of capstan bars, as though men
of the crew were engaged in warping the vessel off shore for greater
safety. The movement was too deliberate and noiseless to mean the
lifting of the anchor, nor was it accompanied by any flapping of sail,
or shifting of yards to denote departure. Nevertheless even this
movement decided me to delay my attempt no longer, and, with strong,
silent strokes I swam forward, directly breasting the force of the
incoming sea, yet making fair progress. Some unconsidered current must
have swept me to the right, for, when the outlines of the bark again
became dimly visible through the night, I found myself well to
starboard of the vessel, and quite likely would have passed it by
altogether, but for the sudden rattle of a block aloft, causing me to
glance in that direction. As my eyes explored the darkness, yet
uncertain that I really beheld the _Namur_, a light flared for a brief
instant, and I had glimpse of a face illumined by the yellow glare, as
the single spark of flame ignited a cigarette. It was all over with
so swiftly, swallowed up in that blackness, as to seem a vision of
imagination. Yet I knew it to be real. Stroking well under water, and
with only my eyes exposed above the surface, I changed my course to
the left, and slowly and cautiously drew in toward the starboard bow.
A few moments later, unperceived from above, and protected from
observation by the bulge of the overhang, and density of shadow, my
hands clung to the anchor hawser, my mind busy in devising some means
for attaining the deck.




CHAPTER X

ON THE DECK OF THE NAMUR


It was here that fortune favored me, strengthening my decision, and
yielding a fresh courage to persevere. The pounding of the seas
against the bow rendered other sounds, for the moment, unnoticeable,
while the current swept so strongly against my submerged body as to
compel me to cling tightly to the swaying rope to prevent being
overcome. Close as I was the bark appeared scarcely more than a dense
shadow swaying above me, without special form, and unrevealed by the
slightest gleam of light, merely a vast bulk, towering between sea and
sky. Forking out, however, directly over where I clung desperately to
the wet hawser, my eyes were able to trace the bow-sprit, a massive
bit of timber, with ropes faintly traced against the sky, the rather
loosely furled jib flapping ragged edges in the gusts of wind.
Suddenly, as I stared upward, I became aware that two men were working
their way out along the foot-ropes, and, as they reached a point
almost directly over my head, became busily engaged in tightening the
gaskets to better secure the loosening sail. The foot of one slipped,
and he hung dangling, giving vent to a stiff English oath before he
succeeded in hauling himself back to safety, The other indulged in a
chuckling laugh, yet was careful not to speak loudly.

"Had one drink too many, Tom?" he asked. "That will pay yer fer
finishin' the bottle, an' never givin' me another sup."

The other growled, evidently not in any too good humor after his
mishap.

"You, hell! Yer bed the fu'st ov it. Thar's no sorter luck yer don't
git yer fair share of, Bill Haines--trust yer fer thet. What I ain't
got straight yet, is whar thet stuff cum from so easy. Thet wus the
real thing."

Haines laughed again, working carelessly. As the men advanced along
the spar I could distinguish their forms more clearly.

"That wus part o' the luck, Tom," he acknowledged, his accent that of
a cockney. "Did yer git eyes on thet new feller Manuel Estevan brought
back with him in the boat?"

"The one you and Jose carried aboard?"

"He's the lad. Thar wa'n't nuthin' the matter with the cove, 'cept he
wus dead drunk, an' he hed a bottle o' rum stowed away in every
pocket. But Manuel, he never knew thet. It wus just 'bout dark when he
cum staggerin' down ter the boat. We wus waitin' on the beach fer
Estevan, an' three fellers he hed taken along with him inter town, ter
cum back--the nigger, Jose, an' me--when this yere chap hove
'longside. He never hailed us, ner nuthin'; just clim over inter the
boat, an' lay down. 'Whar ye aimin' ter go, friend?' ses I, but by
then the cove wus dead asleep. I shook him, an' kicked him, but it
wa'n't no use; so we just left him lie thar fer Manuel ter say whut
wus ter be done with him. Only Jose he went thru his pockets, an'
found three bottles o' rum. We took a few drinks, an' hid whut wus
left in the boat locker."

"So that's how yer got it! Who wus the party?"

"Thet's mor'n I'll ever tell yer. I never got no sight o' him, 'cept
in the dark. 'Bout all I know is he wus white, an' likely a sailor,
judgin' frum the feel o' his hands. Maybe he thought that wus his boat
he'd stumbled inter--thar wus quite a few 'long the beach. Enyhow,
when Manuel got back, he just took a look at him in the dark, an' then
told us to haul the lad forrard out o' the way, an' fetch him along.
So we pulled out with the feller cuddled up in the bow. He was drunk
all right."

"I never seed nuthin' more of him after he was hauled aboard,"
commented Tom, as the other ceased speaking. "Whut become o' the lad?"

"Him? Oh, Jose an' me carried him inter the for'cassel, an' shoved him
inter a berth ter sleep off his liquor. Thet wus the last I ever see,
er hear o' him fer 'bout six hours. I'd fergot all 'bout the
feller--er wud have, if it hadn't been fer the rum. Manuel went off in
the long-boat with Estada, an' when my watch went below, I stowed
myself away back o' the bow gun fer a few drinks. I hadn't been thar
mor'n ten minutes, when this yere feller must a woke up in the
for'cassel sum crazy. He cum a chargin' out on deck, whoopin' like an
Indian, wavin' a knife in his hand, intendin' fer ter raise hell. I
cudn't see then who the lad wus, but it must o' been him, fer when I
went down later he wusn't whar we'd put him. Well, it happened thet
the fu'st feller he run up against wus LeVere, who wus cumin' forrard
fer sumthin', an' fer about a minute thar was one hell ov a fight.
Maybe LeVere didn't know et onct just whut hed happened, but he wusn't
almighty long finding out his job, an' the way he started in fer ter
man-handle the cuss, wus worth seein'. It was so damn dark thar by the
foremast I couldn't tell whut did happen, but it wus fists mostly,
till the mate drove the poor devil, cussin' like mad, over agin the
rail, an' then heaved him out inter the water 'longside. I heerd the
feller splash when he struck, but he never let out no yell."

"What did LeVere do?"

"Him? Hell, he didn't do nuthin'. Just stared down over the rail a
bit, an' then cum back, rubbin' his hands. Never even asked who the
feller wus. Thar ain't nuthin' kin skeer that black brute."

"By God--no! He ain't got no human in him. It's hell when English
sailormen has got ter take orders frum a damned nigger, an' be knocked
'round if they don't jump when he barks. He's goin' ter get a knife in
his ribs sum day."

"Maybe he is; but yer better hold yer tongue, Tom. Sanchez don't stand
fer thet talk, an' he's back o' LeVere. Let's go in; them gaskets will
hold all right now--cum 'long."

The two vaguely distinguishable figures disappeared, clambering
awkwardly over the rail, and as instantly vanishing into the blackness
of the bark's deck. An unsecured bit of canvas continued to flap
noisily above me, and the constant surge of water pounded against the
bow, but I could perceive now clearly the character I was destined to
assume when once safely aboard the _Namur_. Such an assumption would
involve but slight danger of discovery. It was as though a miracle had
opened the way, revealed to me by the unconscious lips of these two
half-drunken, gossiping sailors. The story told fitted my necessities
exactly. Had I planned the circumstances myself, nothing could have
been better prearranged. No one on board had seen the missing man by
daylight; if an impression of his features remained in any individual
mind, it must be extremely vague, and valueless. Bill's conviction
that the man was English, and probably a sailor, was the most
definite, and he had had greater opportunity closely to observe the
stranger than anyone else. LeVere had obtained no more than a glimpse
of his opponent, during their struggle in the dark, and while fighting
for his life. Surely it would be easy enough to obscure any faint
impression thus acquired. And the fellow had been heartlessly flung
overboard; was believed to have sunk without a struggle, too drunk to
save himself; was scarcely given another thought. Yet no one knew
positively that this was so, because no one cared. The death of the
lad had simply been taken for granted, when LeVere failed to see his
body rise again to the surface. Yet it was quite within the realm of
possibility for the fellow to come up once more in that darkness,
beyond LeVere's range of vision, and even to have remained afloat,
buoyed up by clinging to the anchor hawser, until strong enough to
return on board. At least there was no one aboard the _Namur_ able to
deny that this had been done.

Satisfied by this reasoning of being able to pass myself off as the
dead man, with small danger of detection, and likewise assured--so
far at least as eyes and ears testified--that none of the crew were
grouped on the forecastle, to be attracted by my movements, I began,
slowly and cautiously, to drag myself up the taut hawser, hoping thus
to attain a position from which to gain hand-hold on the rail, and
thus attain the deck unseen. While my explanation might suffice, I
greatly preferred having to present it only as a last resort. I would
much rather slip quietly aboard, and mingle unnoticed with the crew
for the next few hours, than be haled at once before LeVere, and
endure his scrutiny and possible violence. The fellow was evidently a
brute, and a hard master. Seemingly I had chosen a fortunate moment
for my effort; no one heeded the little noise I made, and, when I
finally topped the rail, and was able to look inboard, it was to
discover a deserted fore deck, with the watch all engaged at some task
amidships. There was no gleam of light, but I could hear the patter of
feet, and imagined seeing dim moving figures. A rather high-pitched
voice was giving orders, and enough of his words reached me to
convince that other men were aloft on the main yard. Believing my best
policy would be to join those busied on deck, just as though I
belonged among them, I crept down the forecastle ladder, and worked my
way aft beneath the black shadow of the port rail, until able thus to
drift unnoticed into a group tailing on to a mainsail halliard. The
fellow next to me, without releasing his grip, turned his head and
stared, but without discerning my features.

"Whar the hell did yer cum' frum?" he growled, and I as instantly
recognized Bill Haines. "Been sojerin', have yer? Well, now, damn yer
eyes! lay too an' pull."

Before I could attempt an answer, a tall figure loomed up before us,
the same high-pitched voice I had noticed previously calling out
sharply:

"There, that's enough, men! Now make fast. We can head the old girl
out from here in a jiffy, if it really begins to blow. Jose, you stand
by at the wheel, in case you're needed; some of the rest ship the
capstan bars, and remain near for a call."

Discipline on board must have been somewhat lax, or else Haines held
some minor official position which gave him unusual privilege, for,
while the others instantly separated to carry out these orders, he
remained motionless, confronting the man I supposed to be the mulatto,
LeVere. My own position was such I could not press past the two
without attracting attention.

"What are ye swingin' the yards fer, enyhow?" asked the sailor
insolently. "Just fer exercise?"

The other, who already had started to turn away, stopped, and took a
step backward toward his questioner.

"Because I am a sailor, Haines," he replied angrily. "Anyhow it is
none of your business; I was left in command here. Those clouds don't
look good to me; there is going to be a blow before morning."

"Then it's yer intention ter work out'er this yere berth?"

"It's my intention to be ready, if it becomes necessary. There is no
regular officer left aboard, but, just the same, I am not going to let
this bark pile up on those rocks yonder. We'll hang on here for
another half hour, maybe, and then, if the long-boat don't show up,
we'll work further off shore until daylight. That's sensible, isn't
it?"

Haines growled something, inaudible to me, but evidently accepted as
an assent, and LeVere, still in no good humor from the questioning,
wheeled sharply about to go forward. This movement placed him face to
face with me.

"What are you loafing here for?" he burst forth, no doubt glad to thus
vent his anger on someone. "Who the hell are you?"

"Joe Gates, sir," I answered quickly, mouthing the first name which
came to my lips.

"Gates--Joe Gates?" peering savagely into my face, but unable to
distinguish the features. "I never heard of anybody on board by that
name. Who is the fellow, Haines?"

The Englishman gripped me by the sleeve to whirl me about, but as his
fingers touched the soaked cloth of my jacket, he burst forth with an
oath.

"By God! but he's wet enough to be the same lad you chucked overboard
an hour ago. Damn me, I believe he is. Say, mate, are you the gay buck
we hauled aboard drunk, and dumped inter the for'cassel?"

"I dunno, sir," I answered dumbly, believing it best not to remember
too much. "I couldn't even tell yer whut ship this is, ner how I
signed on. Last I seem ter remember I wus ashore frum the schooner
_Caroline_; but this yere is a bark."

Haines laughed, already convinced of my identity, and considering it a
good joke.

"Well, my buck, I'll tell yer whar yer are, an' likewise how yer got
yere," he chuckled. "I wus one of a party frum this hooker ashore
'bout dusk, when yer hove in sight 'bout as drunk as a sailorman kin
get. Fact is yer wus so soused yer stumbled inter the wrong boat, and
went ter sleep. We're allers ready fer ter take on a new hand er two,
so we just let yer lie thar, an' brought yer aboard. 'Bout an hour ago
yer must a had a touch o' tremens, fer, all at onct yer cum chargin'
out on deck, an' tried ter knife LeVere, an' he flung yer overboard.
We sorter figured thet yer went down, an' never cum up agin."

LeVere broke in with a savage snarl.

"What's all that? Do you mean, Haines, that this is the same damned
scamp who tried to stick me?"

"No doubt of it. But he never knew what he was dloin'--he wus crazy as
a loon. There's nuthin' fer yer ter fuss over now. Tell us about it,
Gates--the bath must have sobered yer up?"

I watched LeVere, but he remained motionless, a mere shadow.

"I suppose it must have been thet, sir," I confessed respectfully, "if
things happened as you say they did. I haven't any memory o' tryin'
ter slash nobody. Leastwise I seemed ter know whut I wus about when I
cum up. I don't remember how I got ther; furst I knew I wus slushin'
'round in the water, a tryin' ter keep afloat. It wus so blame dark I
cudn't see nuthin', but sumhow I got grip on a hawser, an' hung on
till I got back 'nough strength ter clime on board. I knew this wa'n't
my ship, so I just lay quiet awhile, figurin' out whar I wus."

"Yer English?"  "Born in Bristol, sir, but I wus workin' on the
_Caroline_--she's a Colony schooner, in the fish trade."

"Sailor?"

"At sea since I wus twelve. What's this yere bark--Dutch, ain't she?"

"Once upon a time; just now we are flying whatever flag cumes handy.
We ain't got no prejudice in flags."

"Is thet a gun forrard, covered with taupalin?"

"Yes, an' yer might find another aft, if yer looked fer it. Mor'n
thet, we know how ter use 'em. Now see here, Gates; thar's no reason
why we should beat about the bush--fact is we're sea rovers."

"Sea rovers--pirates, sir?"

"Bah! what's a name! We take what we want; it's our trade, that's all.
No worse than many another. The question is, are yer goin' ter take a
chance 'long with us? It's the only life, lad--plenty of fun, the best
of liquor and pretty girls, with a share in all the swag."

"What is the name of this bark?"

"The _Namur_--sailed out o' Rotterdam till we took her."

"Whut wus yer in when ye took her?"

"The _Vengeance_, a three-masted schooner, the fastest thing afloat.
She's south in West India waters."

"Who's the captain?"

"Silva Sanchez."

"Gawd! Sanchez--not--not 'Black Sanchez?'"

"That's him; so yer've heerd o' 'Black Sanchez?' Well, we're sailin'
'long with him, all right, mate, an' yer ought ter know whut thet
means fer a good man."

I hesitated, yet only long enough to leave the impression I sought to
make on them both.

"Likely thar ain't no sailor but whut has heerd o' him," I said
slowly. "Enyhow, I sure have. I can't say thet I have any special
hankerin' after bein' a pirate, an' I never aimed ter be one; but,
seem' as how I am yere on this bark, an' can't easy get away, it don't
look like thar wus much choice, does it?"

LeVere appeared amused in his way, which was not a pleasant one.

"Oh, yes, friend, there is choice enough. Bill, here, had exactly the
same choice when he first came--hey, Bill? Remember how you signed on,
after we took you off the _Albatross_? This is how it stands,
Gates--either go forrard quietly yerself, er the both of us will kick
you there. We never give an order twice on the _Namur_. That will be
enough talk. If you do your work, all right; and if you don't, then
look out, my man--there will be plenty of hell waiting for you. Go on,
now."

It was a curt dismissal, coupled with a plain threat, easy to
understand. I obeyed the order gladly enough, slinking away into the
black shadows forward, realizing my good fortune, and seeking some
spot where I could be alone. The result was all that I could have
hoped for; my position on board was assured; my story had been
accepted without awakening the slightest suspicion; and it was
perfectly clear that no one on board the _Namur_ possessed the
slightest memory of the personal appearance of the poor fellow who had
been thrown overboard, and drowned. Even Haines believed me to be the
man. Of course I should be watched to some extent for a few days, my
willingness to serve noted, and my ability as a seaman put to the
test; but in this I had nothing to fear. I could play the assumed
character with little danger of any mishap. The only remaining peril
of discovery would come with the return of the absent boat, and the
necessity of my encountering the giant negro. Yet I was convinced even
this would not prove serious. If Cochose had glimpsed my features at
all during the course of our desperate struggle on the deck of the
sloop, the impression made on his mind must have been merely
momentary; and, besides, he would never once conceive it possible that
the same man could have reached the bark ahead of his return. Even if
such a suspicion dawned, I was now in a position to positively
establish my arrival aboard the _Namur_ early the evening previous,
and before their expedition had departed.

I felt so safe, and so content with my success thus far, as to already
believe thoroughly in the final result of my mission. This confidence
developed almost into sheer recklessness. There were some difficulties
ahead, to be sure. I remained sane enough to recognize these, yet I
had already conquered easily, what at first had appeared
insurmountable, and, in consequence of this good luck, these others
yet to be met, seemed far less serious. The same happy fortune which
had opened the way for me to board the _Namur_ must also intervene to
aid me in solving future problems. Mine was the philosophy of a
sailor, to whom peril was but a part of life. All I seemed to require
now was a sufficiency of courage and faith--the opportunity would be
given. In this spirit of aroused hope, I continued to stare out into
the black night, watchfully, the shrouded deck behind me silent, and
seemingly deserted, except for the steady tramp from rail to rail of
LeVere, keeping his lonely watch aft. The crew had disappeared, lying
down no doubt in corners out of the wind. And this wind was certainly
rising, already attaining a force to be reckoned with, for the boom of
waves hurled against the bows of the laboring bark, was steadily
becoming more noticeable, while overhead the ropes sang dismally. I
wondered that LeVere hung on so long in his perilous position,
although, in spite of the increased strain, the anchor still clung
firmly. Quite probably he had received stern orders not to shift from
his present position until the boat returned, yet surely his judgment
as a competent seaman, left in command, must make him aware of the
threatening danger. He would never wreck his vessel merely because he
had been instructed to remain at that particular spot. It seemed to me
that no hawser ever made could long withstand the terrific strain of
our tugging, as the struggling bark rose and fell in the grip of the
sea. To him must have come the same conviction, for suddenly his
high-pitched voice sang out from the poop:

"Stand by, forrard, to lower the starboard anchor; move lively, men.
Everything ready, Haines?"

"All clear, sir. Come on the jump, bullies!"

"Then let go smartly. Watch that you don't get the line fouled. Aloft
there! Anything in sight, Cavere?"

From high up on the fore-top yard, the answer, blown by the wind, came
down in broken English:

"Non, M'sieur; I see nottings."

"Well, don't go to sleep; keep both eyes open!"

I had already joined the watch forward, aware only of the numerous
dim, and shapeless figures about me, busily employed in straightening
out the kinks in the heavy cable. The number of men on deck was
evidence of a large crew, there being many more than were necessary
for the work to be done. Most of them appeared to be able seamen, and
Haines drove them mercilessly, cursing them for lubbers, and twice
kicking viciously at a stooping form. There was no talking, only the
growl of an occasional oath, the slapping of the hawser on deck, and
the sharp orders of Haines. Then the great rope began to slip swiftly
through the hawse hole, and we heard the sharp splash as the iron
flukes struck the water, and sank. Almost at that same instant the
voice of Cavere rang out from the mast-head:

"A sail, M'sieur--a sail!"

"Where away?"

"Off ze port quarter. I make eet to be ze leetle boat--she just round
ze point"




CHAPTER XI

THE RETURN OF THE BOAT


Receiving no other orders, the moment all was secure, the crew eager
to welcome back the boat party, and learn the news, hurried over to
the port rail. Beyond doubt most of those aboard realized that this
had been an expedition of some importance, the culmination of their
long wait on the coast, part of some scheme of their chief, in the
spoils of which they expected to share. It was for this end they had
been inactive for weeks, hiding and skulking along shore; now they
hoped to reap their reward in gold and silver, and then be permitted
to return to the wilder, more adventurous life they loved on the high
seas. Moreover this boat approaching through the darkness was bringing
back their leader, and however else they might feel toward him, the
reckless daring, and audacious resourcefulness of Sanchez meant
success. These fellows, the scum of the seven seas, whom he had
gathered about him, might hate and fear, yet were glad to follow. They
had learned on many a bloody deck the merit of their chief, and in
their way were loyal to him.

I was made to comprehend all this by the low, muttered utterances of
those crowding near me, spoken in nearly every language of the world.
Much I could not even translate, yet enough reached my ears to
convince me of the temper of the crew--their feverish eagerness to be
again at sea, under command of a captain whom they both hated and
feared, yet whom they would follow to the very gates of hell. Even as
they cursed him with hot oaths, in memory of some act of discipline,
there came into their voices a tinge of admiration, which furnished me
an accurate etching of the man. They knew him, these hell-hounds of
the sea, and from out their mouths I knew him also for what he was--a
cruel, cold-blooded monster, yet a genius in crime, and a natural
leader of such men as these. _Black Sanchez!_ All the unspeakable
horror which in the past had clung to that name came back again to
haunt me; I seemed to hear once more the tales of men who had escaped
from his grip alive; to see again the scenes they had witnessed. It
could not seem possible that I was actually upon one of his ships, in
the very midst of his wild crew. I listened to their comments, their
expectations, with swiftly beating heart. I alone knew what that boat
was bringing. And when it arrived, and they knew also, what would
these sea wolves say? What would they do? What would be the result
when the dead body of their leader came up over the rail?

For a few moments we could perceive nothing through the black night.
The clouds were rolling low, thickened by vapor, and the increasing
wind had already beaten the waves into crests of foam. We could hear
them crash against the stout sides of the bark, which leaped to their
impetus, yet was held in helpless captivity by the two anchors. The
deck under foot tossed dizzily, the bare masts swaying above, while
our ears could distinguish the sullen roar of breakers tumbling up on
the sand just astern. Overhead ropes rattled noisily, the sound
mingling with the flapping ends of loosened sails beating against the
yards. LeVere shouted an order, and a sudden flare was lighted
amidships, the circle of flame illumining a part of the deck, and
spreading out over the wild expanse of water. The seaman holding the
blazing torch aloft, and thrusting it forth across the rail, took on
the appearance of a black statue, as motionless as though carved from
ebony, while in the gleam the various groups of men became visible,
lined up along the port bulwarks, all staring in the one direction,
eagerly seeking a first glimpse of the approaching craft.

Scarcely had a minute elapsed before it came sweeping into the radius
of light--at first a dim, spectral shadow, scarcely to be recognized;
then, almost as suddenly, revealed in all its details--a boat of size,
flying toward us under a lug sail, standing out hard as a board,
keeling well over, and topping the sea swells like a bird on wing.
'Twas a beautiful sight as the craft came sweeping on before the full
weight of the wind, out from that background of gloom into the yellow
glare of the torch, circling widely so as to more safely approach the
bark's quarter. LeVere called for men to stand by, the fellows rushing
past me to their stations, but, in the fascination of the moment, I
failed to move. I could do nothing but stare out across the
intervening water, with eyes fastened on that swiftly approaching
boat. I must see. I must know the message it brought; what story it
held of the tragedy. At first I could only barely distinguish the
figures of those aboard, yet these gradually assumed recognizable
form, and finally the faces also became dimly visible. Manuel held the
tiller, with Estada seated beside him, leaning forward, and
gesticulating with one hand, as he directed the course. I had never
seen these two, yet I knew them beyond a doubt. Mendez and Anderson
(at least I supposed these to be the two) were poised at the sail
halliards, ready to let the straining sheet down at a run, while
Cochose crouched low in the bow, his black hand uplifted, gripping a
coil of rope. Their faces were all turned forward, lighted by the
flare from our deck, and I felt a shudder of fear run over me--no
expression on any countenance spoke of defeat; even the ugly features
of the negro beamed with delight.

But was that all? Was that all? Surely not, yet the boat had to leap
forward, and then turn broadside too, as it swept aft toward the main
chains, before I succeeded in seeing what remained partially concealed
between the thwarts in its bottom. Forward of the single mast was
stowed the chest, which Travers' slaves had borne with such care up
the bluff; while in the open space between the helmsman and the two
sailors were stretched two motionless bodies. LeVere, gripping a
stay-rope, and leaning well out, hailed in Spanish.

"Ahoy, the boat--there is not too much sea? You can make it?"

"Ay!" came back Estada's voice, swept aside by the wind, yet still
audible. "Stand by to fend us off. Call all hands, and break anchor as
soon as we are aboard."

"Very well, sir. Where is Captain Sanchez?"

Estada pointed downward in swift, expressive gesture.

"Here at my feet--badly hurt, but will recover. Send two men down to
help when we make fast. Now, Cochose--let go of your rope; watch out
above!"

I stood, gripping hard at the rail, and staring down at the scene
below, as the men in the boat made fast. I felt paralyzed, and
helpless, unable to move. I had no business to remain there; every
prospect of security depended on my joining the crew, but it was not
in my power to desert my position. I could hear the hurrying feet of
the watch tramping across the deck in response to LeVere's orders; the
heavy pounding of a marling-spike on the forecastle hatch, as Haines
called for all hands. I was aware that men were already mounting the
ratlines, and laying out on the upper yards to make sail, while the
capstan bars began rattling. Yet only one thought gripped me--_Sanchez
was not dead_! I had believed he was; I had staked all on his death as
a certainty. But instead, the man was lying there in the boat,
helpless at present, sorely wounded perhaps, yet still alive. Estada
even said he would surely recover. And that other body? That of
Dorothy Fairfax, without doubt, yet certainly not lifeless. Those
fellows would surely never bring back to the _Namur_ the useless, dead
form of one of their victims. That was unthinkable, impossible. If
their prisoner was the girl--and who else could it be?--she remained
alive, helplessly bound to prevent either struggle, or outcry, and
destined to a fate far worse than death.

This revelation struck me like a blow. I had anticipated the possible
capture of the young woman, but not the return of Sanchez. His living
overthrew all my plans. There was no hope in the narrow confines of
the ship for me to remain long out of his sight, once he became able
again to reach the deck. And he would instantly recognize me in any
guise. Every hope of rescue had vanished, every faith that I could be
of aid. My own life hung in the balance--nay, rather, my doom was
already sealed. There, seemingly was but one chance for escape
left--that was to drop silently overboard, amid the confusion of
getting under way, and make the desperate attempt to reach shore
unseen before the crew could lift anchor, and set sail. This
possibility came to me, yet I continued to cling there, dazed and
helpless, staring dully down, lacking both physical and mental energy
to put the wild scheme into execution. God, no! that would be the
craven act of a coward. Better far to stay, and kill, or even be
killed, than to be forever cursed by my own conscience. The fellow
might die; some fatal accident befall the _Namur_; why a hundred
things might occur before Sanchez was capable of resuming command, or
could attempt any serious injury to Dorothy.

The fellows sent down from the main chains to the boat brought the
injured Captain up first. This required the services of three men, his
body hanging limp between them, his upturned face showing ghastly in
the flaming of the torch thrust out over the rail. To every appearance
it was apparently a corpse they handled, except for their tenderness,
and a single groan to which the white lips gave utterance, when one of
the bearers slipped, wrenching the wounded body with a sharp pang of
pain. Once safely on deck, the three bore him across to the after
cabin, in which a swinging lantern had been lighted, and was by then
burning brightly, and disappeared down the steps. My eyes followed
every movement, as I forgot for the instant the boat and its occupants
still tossing alongside on the waters below. As I turned back,
awakened by some cry, I saw that Estada had already swung himself up
into the chains, while Anderson and Mendez were lifting the girl to
her feet, and rather roughly urging her forward. Her hands and limbs
had been set free, but she swayed back and forth in the grasp of the
two men, as though unable to support herself alone, her face upturned
into the flare of light, as she gazed in terror at the black side of
the bark towering above. Her eyes reflected all the unutterable horror
which for the moment dominated her mind, while her loosened hair,
disarranged by struggle, only served to intensify the pallor of her
face. Yet in spite of this evident despair, there was still strength
and defiance in the firm closing of her lips, and her efforts to stand
alone, uncontaminated by the touch of the sailors' hands.

"Hustle her along lively, boys," shouted back Estada coarsely. "If she
won't move, give her a shove. Then tie her up again, and take the turn
of a rope 'round her. What do you think this is--a queen's reception?
Move lively, Senorita," in mock sarcasm.

Her gaze settled on him, where he hung far out, grasping a backstay,
watching the movements below, and her slender form straightened as by
the acquisition of new strength.

"If these creatures will take their hands off me," she said, using
their tongue without a tremor in the clear voice. "I can easily go up
alone. What is it you are so afraid of--a woman?"

The expression of Estada's face promised an outburst of profanity,
but, instead of giving it utterance, he lifted his cap in a sudden
pretense at gallantry.

"Your pardon, Senorita," he said in a tone of humble mockery. "If you
have come to your senses at last, it is well. No one can be happier
than I. Leave her alone, men. Now, my beauty, I am taking you at your
own word--a step, and then the protection of my hand. We welcome you,
as a guest aboard."

A moment and she had attained the deck. Where she stood I could no
longer see her face, yet she remained there silent and motionless,
rather stiffly erect as she faced him. Frightened, and helpless as she
was, yet her very posture seemed to express the detestation she felt
for the man. But Estada, apparently pleased with his performance thus
far, chose to continue playing the fool.

"Thanks, Senorita--thanks," he began softly, and again bowing before
her, cap in hand. "We greet you with due honor aboard the _Namur_--"

"Enough of that, you coward, you murderer," she broke in coldly. "Do
not touch nor speak to me."

She turned her back on him, thus coming face to face with LeVere, who
stood enjoying the scene, a wide grin on his dark face, revealing a
row of white teeth under a jet-black moustache.

"You, sir--you are an officer?"

"I have charge of the deck."

"Then where am I to go?"

The mulatto, surprised by the sudden question, glanced inquiringly
toward Estada, who had already completely lost his sense of humor.

"Go!" the latter growled. "Where is she to go? Why send the wench
below. I'll see to her later, and teach her who is the master here.
She will not queen it long on these decks, I warrant you. Off with her
now, but be back quickly." He leaned out over the rail, sending his
gruff voice below. "Send up that chest, you men--careful now not to
let it drop overboard. Yes, that's better. Hook on the boat, Manuel,
and let her drag; we must get out of here in a hurry. All ready,
aloft?"

"Ay, ay, sir."

"Then sheet home; how is it forrard?"

"Both anchors apeak, sir."

"Smartly done--hard down with your helm there! That's it; now let her
play off slowly."

He must have caught sight of me through the gloom, for he strode
furiously forward, giving utterance to a bristling Spanish oath. All
the savage brutality of his nature had been brought to the surface by
Dorothy's stinging words, and he sought now some fit opportunity to
give it vent. Before I could move, he had gripped me by the collar,
and swung me about, so that the light streaming out from the cabin
fell directly on my face.

"What the devil are you doing, loafing aft here?" he demanded roughly,
staring into my eyes. "Didn't you hear the orders, you damned shirker?
I've seen you hanging about for ten minutes, never lifting a hand. Who
the hell are you anyhow--the captain?"

"Joe Gates, sir."

"Gates--another damned Englishman! How did you ever get aboard here?"

It was the returning LeVere who made explanation before I could reply.

"Manuel brought him on board last night. Picked him up drunk ashore."

Estada's ugly eyes roved from face to face, as though he failed to
fully comprehend.

"Well, does he imagine he is going to be a passenger? Why hasn't he
been taught his place before this? It's about time, LeVere, for this
drunken sailor to be given a lesson to last him for awhile; and, by
God, if you won't do it, I will. Step over here, Gates."

I took the necessary step forward, and faced him, expecting the rabid
tongue lashing, which I rather felt I deserved.

"Now, my man, do you know what this bark is?"

"I think so, sir--Mister LeVere explained that to me."

"Oh, he did? Well, he must have failed to make clear the fact that we
enforce discipline aboard. The next time you neglect to jump at an
order, you are going to taste the cat. You understand me? You speak
Spanish?"

"Yes, sir; I lived two years in Cuba."

"I see; well now, do you happen to have any idea who I am?"

"No, sir--only that you are one of the officers."

"Then I will enforce the information on your mind so that you are not
li

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