On the day after the crew of thePetrelhad been taken on board the barque the wind freshened and was so much to the south of east that the vessel was enabled to sail in a north-easterly direction, a course which would bring her to the vicinity of the Trinidad and Martin Vas Archipelago.
When Carew came on deck in the morning he found Baptiste there before him. The Provençal walked up to him jauntily, twirling his long black moustache, and looking jubilant. "I have seen young Hallé again," he said, in a low voice. "He is very bad. The symptoms are unmistakable; but no one suspects the truth so far. Two other men are complaining of headache."
"Let the accursed plague work its way," said Carew gloomily, "but tell me nothing about it."
"So be it, sir," said Baptiste, with a shrug of his shoulders.
The springing up of so favourable a wind put the captain ofLa Bonne Esperancein avery contented frame of mind. In his delight he became more talkative than was his wont, and at frequent intervals during the day sought out Carew in order to converse with him.
Carew, for his part, did his utmost—without appearing churlish—to avoid the company of Captain Mourez; for he recognised him as being a kind-hearted and an honest man.
The captain observed his passenger's unsociable mood, and, attributing this to his sorrow at the loss of his yacht, endeavoured to cheer him with lively gossip, but produced the opposite result.
Nothing noteworthy occurred during the day; the wind held steady, and the vessel made good progress. At about ten o'clock that night, Carew was sitting alone in the saloon, killing thought by reading a French novel which the captain had lent him, when Mourez himself came in. His face bore a very anxious expression.
"Mr. Allen," he said, "I am seriously alarmed about that man Hallé. I fear that he has the fever."
"The yellow fever?" exclaimed Carew, not raising his eyes from his book.
"It seems so to me; but I have never seen a case of yellow fever. Do you mind coming with me to the forecastle and giving me your opinion?"
"I will do so with pleasure," replied Carew,rising from his seat; "but my opinion is not worth much."
They entered the forecastle, which was dimly lighted by a small lantern. Hallé was lying on his bunk, keeping up a constant delirious chatter. The other men, instead of sleeping soundly through their watch below after the manner of sailors, were sitting together in a group at the corner of the forecastle farthest removed from the sick man, looking scared and talking to each other in subdued voices.
Carew stood by Hallé's bunk and looked at him. A change for the worse had recently come on. His face wore an expression of intense anxiety. His skin was wrinkled and of a dark yellow colour.
The captain made a sign to Carew, and they went on deck again. "I have never seen yellow fever," said the latter; "ask my mate, Baptiste Fortier, what he thinks about it; he has had the fever himself." Thus did this strange man trifle with his conscience as usual, and attempt to shift the responsibility for the next step in the tragedy on to his companion.
Baptiste was found, and was sent into the forecastle. It would be quite useless to lie about the facts now, so, returning to where Carew and Mourez were standing, he said, "It is yellow fever. I am sure of it."
On hearing this the captain began to pace up and down the deck in a state of greatagitation, wringing his hands. "Good heavens! this is a terrible affair," he cried. "For thirty hours Hallé has been spreading contagion in the forecastle. Who knows where this will end?"
Then Captain Mourez stood still, and after pondering a little while addressed Carew. "I must at once convert some portion of the vessel into a hospital. The forecastle is no longer a fit place for the healthy men, so we will give it up to the sick. Sir, we must pray for a fresh breeze to carry us quickly into northern latitudes, where the cold will kill the plague that has come to us."
At that moment the boatswain came on to the quarter-deck, and Mourez ordered him to call up the watch below.
The men reached the deck with unusual promptitude. They were summoned aft, and the captain in a few words explained to them how matters stood, and exhorted them to be courageous as French sailors should be. He ordered them to rig up a large awning forward, under which the crew were to live so long as the vessel was in warm latitudes. He also instructed the boatswain to ventilate the forecastle as thoroughly as was possible by means of wind-sails, so that a cool temperature might be obtained for the sick men.
On the following day two other men fell ill, and were admitted into the hospital. In theafternoon Hallé died, and his body was immediately lowered into the sea.
Before sunset the loom of land was visible over the ship's bows. It was the desert island of Trinidad, situated near latitude 20 deg. south, about six hundred miles from the coast of Brazil.
And now a most unfortunate calamity befell the pestilence-stricken vessel. The wind completely died away, and she lay motionless on a sea of oily smoothness for three whole days. The vertical sun blazed down upon her out of the cloudless sky, and the intense sultriness of the atmosphere lowered the energies of those who were still in good health, and predisposed them to contagion, while it hurried on the fatal termination of the fever for the sick. A gloom fell on the ship's company. The men looked into each other's faces with helpless terror, for what could be done against this invisible foe? One after another sickened, died, and was lowered over the side in shotted shroud. Baptiste and the two Spaniards, though they considered themselves acclimatised to the tropics, and almost proof against contagion, shared the prevailing sense of terror.
On the second day of the calm, the captain, who had doctored all the sick men to the best of his ability, was himself attacked by the fever.
Carew, who had some little knowledge of medicine, volunteered to take his place, and asthe mate gratefully complied with his request, employed all his time in attending upon the patients in the forecastle and the captain in his cabin.
On the third day of the calm the contagion seemed to have spent itself. No fresh cases were reported, and those who were lying sick became no worse.
Up to this date eight men out of the seventeen that composed the ship's company had died. Among these were the boatswain and the ship's cook. It was necessary to appoint some other man to take charge of the port watch; so the mate, after consulting with Carew, gave this post to Baptiste, as being the best educated man on board. The Provençal asked that the two Spaniards should be put upon his watch. El Chico, acting under Baptiste's orders, offered to undertake the duties of ship's cook.
On this morning, being the fifth since thePetrel'screw had been received on board, the mate came up to Baptiste and made some remarks to him which set the wily ruffian thinking. Duval had asked him whether he did not think the fever showed signs of abating.
"It is impossible to say yet," replied Baptiste. "Yellow fever always comes in waves; it subsides and intensifies alternately."
"You see, comrade," said Duval, "that even if we include you four, we are now very shorthanded. If we lose a few more men, we cannot sail this barque to Europe. I have decided to run back to Rio as soon as a breeze springs up."
When the mate left him, Baptiste went in search of Carew, and found him in the captain's cabin, watching the sick man, who was now lying insensible in the last stage of the fever.
Baptiste looked into the pain-distorted face. "He will go soon," he whispered to Carew.
Carew nodded.
"That was a clever idea of yours, sir," said the Frenchman.
"What idea?"
"To constitute yourself ship's doctor."
Carew made no reply, but he understood what the remark signified. Baptiste, however, had misjudged him. With his usual inconsistency in crime, far from availing himself of his opportunities to poison the men, he had, on the contrary, risked his life and done his utmost to save the captain and the others under his charge. He was happier and was pleased with himself while acting thus, though he was also glad to find that his patients died despite his efforts. He seemed to imagine that he was driving a bargain with avenging Heaven—that he could set off his present righteous conduct against his other crimes. Men who reason with the greatest clearness on all other matters, often become insanely illogical when a guilty conscience asks for soothing casuistry.
"How are you treating him?" asked Baptiste.
"Not in the way you are thinking of," Carew replied, looking into the other's eyes.
Baptiste saw that he had been mistaken in his surmise, but said no more on the subject.
Carew's box of medicines was by his side. Baptiste looked into it, and drew out a bottle. "This is not poison, is it?" he asked.
"No; but if you took a good dose of it it would make you feel very ill."
"What is a good dose of it?"
"About ten drops; it is in a concentrated form."
"That will answer my purpose, then," and Baptiste put the bottle in his pocket. "And now, sir, I want some stuff that will prevent insomnia."
The eyes of the two men met. Carew asked no questions, but merely said, "Take this bottle, then. Half a teaspoonful is a large dose."
"Let us go into your cabin for a few minutes," said Baptiste, glancing at Mourez. "This man seems quite unconscious; but a man may hear as long as he has breath in him. I will not trust him."
They crossed the saloon to Carew's cabin.
"Well, what is it?"
"The fever and the hot calm have done our work well while we have been standing byidle," said the Frenchman; "but now the time has come for us to act. We must seize this vessel to-night. There is a look of wind in the sky now, and Duval will set sail and make for Rio as soon as a breeze springs up. We must wait no longer."
"Let it be to-night, then."
"Come on deck at ten o'clock this evening. Bring the revolvers with you. Leave all the rest to me. You dislike details, so I will arrange everything."
Carew bowed his head in assent, but said nothing.
"You have two sick men in the forecastle, I think," said Baptiste; "are they strong enough to make any resistance?"
Carew shook his head.
"That is well. The captain will certainly not have much fight in him. So that leaves us only six healthy men to deal with; one on my watch, five on the other watch."
The mate now went on deck, and Carew returned to the captain's cabin. He found that brave sailor lying on his bed dead.
"I am glad—for his sake and for mine," muttered the Englishman to himself.
It is no pleasant task to describe the events that now took place on the French barque. This is no tale of daring buccaneers, of exciting hand-to-hand combats of desperate men; but a narrative of cold-blooded and dastardly crime.
Now that the time for carrying out his devilish scheme had come, Baptiste had taken the lead of the conspirators. Being a pacific person who hated fighting and feared danger, he determined to omit no possible precaution to obviate the risk of failure. His brain, fertile of ingenious villainy, was not long in devising how to do this.
In the first place, he instructed Carew on no account to leave his cabin between eight and ten that evening. Then he called aside the two Spaniards and explained his plan to them. He gave El Chico the first bottle which he had taken from Carew's medicine chest, and directed him to mix a certain quantity of the contents with the soup he was about to make for the men's dinner—a quantity which he calculated would be insufficient to produce a pronouncedtaste in the soup, but sufficient to cause unpleasant sensations in those who partook of it.
At eight bells that evening the port watch relieved the starboard. There was absolutely nothing for the men to do, as it was still a flat calm, and all the sails had been furled. Duval had taken this precaution on the previous day, fearing that the fever might spread still further, and that he would not have enough hands left to shorten sail were a strong breeze to spring up suddenly.
Duval, however, insisted upon the watches being set and the discipline of the vessel being carried on as usual, more with the object of employing the men's time and distracting their attention from the horrors of the situation than for any other reason.
When Baptiste came aft to relieve Duval, as officer of the watch, the latter said, "Do you know if Mr. Allen is in his cabin, Fortier? I wish to see him."
"I think it would be better not to disturb him. He is quite worn out from want of sleep. He has sat up with poor Mourez two nights in succession; and now that the captain is dead, and the other two sick men are getting better, he is having a long sleep."
"Are the other men getting better?"
"So Mr. Allen thinks," replied Baptiste. "With our brave captain's death the fever seemsto have expended itself. We have no fresh cases to-day."
"I am not sure of that," said Duval gloomily. "I wished to see Mr. Allen in order to tell him that I, and no less than three of the other men, have been feeling very unwell for the last half-hour."
The drugged soup had done its work.
"Indeed!" said Baptiste. "And, now that I look at you, your cheeks are somewhat pale, sir. But we will not wake Mr. Allen; it is unnecessary. He left a bottle of medicine with me this afternoon. It is a powerful febrifuge, and he instructed me to give a dose to the sick men below, and to any others who should feel in any way indisposed. I think it would be a prudent course to serve some round to all hands. It can do no harm."
Duval approving of this measure, Baptiste went into his cabin and brought out the bottle of opiate which Carew had given him, and served out a very strong dose to Duval, and to each of the four men on his watch. Duval then retired to his cabin, and the men lay under the awning forward, all to sink, under the influence of the drug, into a heavy slumber, from which it would not be easy to wake them; while Baptiste was left in charge of the deck, with the two Spaniards and the remaining Frenchman.
"You feel all right, Léon, I hope?" saidBaptiste to this man, a sturdy Breton, who had not been affected by the drugged soup.
"Yes, thank you, sir," he replied; "there's nothing the matter with me."
"Won't you take a dose of the medicine as a precaution? Prevention is better than cure."
"Not for me the filth. Time enough for medicine when one is ill, and not much good it does then if we may judge from the results on this unhappy vessel."
It was necessary for Baptiste's purpose to get this man out of the way before anything could be done. First he thought of asking the Spaniards to despatch him with their knives; but this might create a disturbance and awake the sleepers; so the cautious Provençal waited until a safer plan should suggest itself.
An hour of the watch had passed, and it was now nine o'clock. The sky became overcast, and a drizzling rain began to fall.
"We shall have wind soon," said Léon. "Would it not be well to wake Mr. Duval?"
"Not for a few minutes," replied Baptiste. "Come, now; this damp is the very thing to bring on fever. We ought to take something to keep the enemy out. If you don't like medicine, what say you to a drop of genuine old cognac? I have some in my cabin."
"That is more in my line," said the Breton, smacking his lips; "a fig for your doctor's stuff, I say."
"Then follow me, but step quietly. Mr. Duval's cabin is next to mine. If he finds you drinking brandy aft, though it is only for medicinal purposes, you can guess what a row there will be."
Baptiste led the way to his cabin, and produced a bottle of brandy. He helped the man freely, but he did not attempt to drug the drink with the opiate, for its taste was too unmistakable.
The brandy was strong, and even the Breton's hard head soon succumbed to it. He began to exhibit signs of intoxication, and was chattering in a disconnected fashion, when Baptiste suddenly rose from his seat and placed his hand on the man's shoulder. "Hush!" he whispered; "hush, you idiot! I hear Mr. Duval moving in his cabin; your noise has roused him. He will catch you if you don't hold your tongue. Remain here while I get him out of the way, under some pretext or other. Then I will return for you."
Baptiste darted through the cabin door, and locked it on the man within, who, after awaiting him for some time, helped himself to some more brandy, and at last fell into a drunken sleep on the bed.
Baptiste then entered Carew's cabin, and found him sitting up, reading the French novel which Captain Mourez had lent him.
"Come along, sir; the time has arrived," said the Provençal. "Bring the revolvers withyou, and first see that they are loaded. I don't suppose we shall have to use them, butQuien sabe?as the Spaniards say."
Carew made no reply, but taking the pistols from the locker in which he kept them, he followed his accomplice on to the deck. As they walked towards the fore part of the vessel Baptiste described his preparations for thecoup. "The crew are at our mercy," he said; "Duval in his cabin, and the four men of his watch under the awning forward, are sleeping the heavy sleep of opium. Léon is a prisoner in my cabin, drunk or nearly so, in the company of an open bottle of brandy, and you say that the two sick men in the forecastle are too weak to move. Now, first of all, we must deal with the four men under the awning, for they are the most dangerous."
Still Carew said not a word.
The two Spaniards now joined them. Baptiste looked round the horizon. "We shall have the wind down on us soon," he said; "we must do our work quickly."
The rain was falling more heavily than before. The night was very dark, and there was not a star visible in the heavens. Though as yet there was not a breath of wind, the ocean, as if in anticipation of its coming, was heaving in a long, high swell, and the vessel rolled uneasily, her spars groaning dismally aloft.
Baptiste took two of the revolvers from Carew's hands and handed one to each of the Spaniards.
"Don't use them, lads, unless it is absolutely necessary; we don't want noise. You have your knives," he whispered.
"I have brought the bits of line you asked for," said El Chico, producing several lengths of small-sized but very strong rope.
"What do you intend to do, Baptiste?" inquired Carew, in a hoarse voice, speaking for the first time.
"Pinion those sleepers securely with these cords, fasten a weight to each man's leg, and heave them overboard," replied Baptiste.
"It would be easier to knife them as they lie there," muttered El Toro, whose bloodthirsty instinct was up.
"Yes," sneered Baptiste; "you love the sight of blood, you mad bull. You would like to have a brutal fight now. But that plan will not suit me. I am a man of peace; I hate unnecessary disturbance. Now to work."
Then Carew spoke firmly, once more asserting his right to command. "Secure those men with the cords, but do not kill them. Let them live till to-morrow. Then I will decide what shall be done with them."
"What absurd folly is this?" hissed the Provençal savagely. "Do you wish toendanger all our lives? They may free themselves in the night and retake the ship. No, they must die."
"Silence! You shall know that I am still your master. These men shall not die to-night," said Carew resolutely.
"This is too much," cried Baptiste, with impatient fury. "I have arranged everything so well, and now you interfere to spoil all. Curse that intermittent conscience of yours. It is like a geyser spouting out tepid water at intervals, and always at the most inopportune moment."
"I will not discuss this with you," replied Carew doggedly; "but you know me, you coward. If you kill one of these men without my orders, except in self-defence, you will have to deal with me—you understand?"
The Provençal did understand. He swore some horrible oaths to himself, and said—
"There is no time to argue now. We will humour your fancy. Come on, El Toro and El Chico. Let us tie those fellows up as quickly and as quietly as we can."
The three men crept noiselessly to the awning beneath which the French sailors lay breathing stertorously under the stupefying influence of the strong narcotic.
Carew, meanwhile, stood outside under the rainy sky, motionless, taking no part in the proceedings, and at that moment wishing thatthe fever had seized him also and that he were dead and quit of it all.
Baptiste and the Spaniards stooped over the sleeping men, and with the skill of sailors bound their limbs in such a manner that it was impossible for them to stir, far less to free themselves. In so complete a state of coma were they that the tension of the tightly drawn cords did not rouse them, though they murmured in their sleep. Carew almost hoped that they would awake. If they defended themselves and were killed in the heat of a mortal struggle, it would not have seemed so horrible to him as this silent, passionless piece of villainy.
When the men were all secured, Baptiste said, "If you will stand by here and guard the prisoners, captain, we will go aft and see to the others."
So leaving Carew behind, Baptiste and the two Spaniards went to the other end of the vessel and entered the saloon. First they softly opened the door of Baptiste's cabin, and there they found the Breton sailor sleeping soundly, the half-empty brandy bottle by his side.
The two Spaniards held him while Baptiste bound him firmly. It was not till the operation was concluded that he awoke. He opened his eyes and looked about him in a bewildered way for a few moments; then he tried to raisehimself and could not; and, perceiving the cords that restrained him, he suddenly realised the situation, and called out at the top of his voice, "To the rescue! A mutiny! A mutiny!"
"Quick! away! leave him!" cried Baptiste rapidly. "To Duval's cabin, and secure him before this fellow's row wakes him. Quick! Quick!"
They ran across the saloon and burst into the mate's cabin, the two Spaniards leading the way; for Baptiste, like a prudent general, gave his orders from the rear.
There was a lamp burning in the cabin. Duval, roused by the din, was sitting up in his bed, half awake, still confused by the heavy dose of opium that had been administered to him. Just as the men violently swung the door open, Léon again raised the shout of "A mutiny! A mutiny! Mr. Duval, defend yourself!"
The Norman heard that terrible cry, and all his senses returned to him in a moment.
"Grapple with him at once," cried Baptiste.
The two Spaniards precipitated themselves upon him; but though not a big man, he was a strong and wiry one. Leaping from his bunk he thrust the men aside, and seizing the only weapon within his reach, an iron water-can, he swung it round and brought it down on Baptiste's skull.
"Oh, you treacherous wretch, take that!" he cried.
The Provençal's evil career would have been terminated there and then had it not been for El Toro, who seized Duval's arm and broke the force of the blow. As it was, the sharp edge of the can inflicted an ugly wound, and Baptiste staggered back, the blood pouring all over his face.
"Kill him!" he hissed, sick and faint with pain and fear, but mad with rage.
El Toro needed no second bidding. He thrust his long knife quickly between the unfortunate man's ribs. Duval uttered one groan, and fell to the ground dead.
"That was deftly done," said the Basque, wiping the blade. "Ho! my little Baptiste. How dost thou feel with that cracked pate of thine?"
The Provençal was sitting on a chest, his head in his hands, trembling with fear. "Look at my head, good El Toro, I beseech you," he cried. "See if it is a dangerous wound."
"A mere scratch," replied the Basque, after a cursory examination. "What a timorous woman thou art!"
His comrades washed the wound and bandaged his head; then Baptiste recovered his presence of mind, and gave his orders. "Put the body over the side at once, but first fasten a weight on to it. It must notfloat about to tell tales to some passing vessel."
When this had been done, he said, "Now carry that noisy Léon out of my cabin. Take him forward to where the other prisoners are."
The Spaniards raised the helpless Breton, who, understanding that there was no one to whom he could give the alarm by crying out, now resigned himself to his fate, and uttered not a word as they laid him by the side of his four comrades.
"The vessel is ours!" Baptiste called out in a loud voice when he approached Carew. There was no further reason for the avoidance of noise. "I salute you, captain ofLa Bonne Esperance!"
"But where is Duval?" asked Carew.
"Killed, captain; but in self-defence. Look at my unfortunate head: that was his doing. Had it not been for our brave El Toro you would have lost your trusty mate."
Carew looked down at the five men lying on the deck. They were all awake now, the pain caused by the tightness of their ligatures having at last dispelled the lethargy of the drug. They realised all that had happened; they knew that they were doomed to die at the hands of this treacherous band. A lantern swung from the awning-pole above them, and by its dim light Carew saw that their faces wore an expression of dogged resolution, whichchanged suddenly to one of loathing and contempt when their eyes met his. Thus they stared at him in silence. He hastily turned his face away.
"What next, captain? It must be done sooner or later. Why not at once?" said Baptiste.
"Take them into the forecastle for to-night. Secure the two sick men as well," was the reply.
"Just Heaven, what a cruel thing a British conscience is!" exclaimed Baptiste, with a loud, scornful laugh. He was intoxicated with the successful issue of his scheme. "I, the man without scruples, would have mercifully killed these men outright. You, the man of conscience, shrink from doing so, but are willing to shut them up in the pestilential hole yonder, so that an agonising fever may kill them for you. Do you really flatter yourself, oh, self-deceiver, that you in this way absolve your soul from the guilt?"
"Silence!" cried Carew angrily. The man's words had hit the mark. Some such vain idea had indeed crossed the warped mind. Arguments of a like sophistical nature were always now vaguely occurring to him, and he took care not to reason them out, being conscious of the fallacy of them, yet cherishing them. A form of moral insanity this, and not an uncommon one.
El Chico, who was standing by, heard Carew's last words. "Do you want us to die of the fever too, captain?" he grumbled. "Who's going to stand sentry over the prisoners in that poisonous forecastle?"
Carew saw the force of this objection.
"Then put them in a row along the bulwark and lash each one to a ring-bolt," he said.
"That is a better plan," remarked Baptiste; "we can thus keep our eyes on them without leaving the deck. El Chico, you keep watch for two hours, while the rest of us sleep. We require rest after our exciting day's work; and as for me, that cut over the head makes me feel rather queer."
"See, here comes the wind," cried Carew.
The clouds towards the east had opened out, revealing a patch of starry sky, and a light breeze had sprung up.
"There won't be much of it," said Baptiste, after he had scanned the heavens. "Let us shake out the spanker and lie-to under that for the night. And to-morrow morning, captain, you must decide how you are going to rid us of these men. We are too few to work the vessel, and cannot be bothered with guarding prisoners to please you."
Her capture having been effected, the barque lay hove-to under her spanker for the night.
The south-east wind died away about midnight, and a light south-westerly breeze sprang up. A strong ocean current must have been setting from the same direction; for, though the islet of Trinidad had been so far distant at sunset as to be barely visible, the sound of breakers roaring on a beach could be plainly distinguished towards the end of the middle watch.
At daybreak Carew was left alone in charge of the vessel, his three men being asleep under the awning. He paced the deck restlessly, his heart aching with despairing misery.
The five prisoners, who were lashed along the foot of the port bulwarks, as if by one consent, observed a complete silence. They were too far apart to hold any communication with each other, and they knew how useless it would be to appeal to the mercy of the villains who had surprised them; but they all remained awake, watching intently for what they felt wasnot at all likely to occur—an opportunity to regain their freedom and fight for their lives.
The rain had ceased, the clouds had cleared away, and out of the calm night gleamed the brilliant constellations of the southern hemisphere. There was a transparency, a depth in the heavens, such as is not apparent in northern latitudes. Through the nearer archipelagos of stars one could perceive others farther back, and beyond these others; stars behind stars up inconceivable distances into the depths of space; so that they were so crowded together as to almost unite in forming one continuous sheet of silver light, save in one spot, where, amid that most luminous portion of the firmament known as Magellan's Cloud, there opened out, like to a black pit, a starless void, an infinite abyss of nothingness.
There came a faint emerald light in the east, which quickly changed to the pale blue of the turquoise, and the stars faded away before the rapid dawn of the tropics.
Then Carew saw, about ten miles off, standing out darkly between him and the sunrise, in sharp outline against the clear sky, the desert island of Trinidad.
It seemed to consist of a confused mass of barren mountains, most fantastic in their shape, falling everywhere precipitously into the ocean, and terminating in huge pinnacles of rock, the loftiest of which were crowned with wreaths ofvapour. Elsewhere there were no clouds visible in the heavens. As the sun rose higher, its rays illumined these rugged summits, and they glowed as with the dull red of molten iron; for this island is a burnt-out volcano, and a considerable portion of it has been calcined into brittle cinders of a ruddy colour.
It being now broad daylight, Baptiste woke up, and coming from under the awning gave himself a shake by way of making his toilet, glanced down the row of prisoners to satisfy himself that they were still safely secured, and then turned his face towards the dreary coast.
"Hallo!" he cried, "we have drifted a long way in the night. That is an ugly-looking place yonder, captain. We must not get too near those black rocks; so we had better wake up those sleepers, and get some canvas on the barque at once. I suppose the next thing to be done is to make sail for the nearest Brazilian port."
"No, Baptiste, not yet," said Carew; "I shall come to an anchor under that island, and wait there for a few days."
"Indeed! What for?"
"I have various reasons. To begin with, look at the sky. There is every appearance of another long calm setting in. Remember that we have yellow fever on board. If we land our prisoners to-day, we shall lessen our own risks of catching it."
Baptiste whistled softly to himself.
Carew stood before him, and looking steadily into his face, said, "Baptiste, I have determined that no more blood shall be shed on this vessel. I intend to put these Frenchmen ashore; then we will sail for Brazil."
"Captain, we do not mind humouring your whims to a certain extent, but we are not going to put our necks in the noose to please you."
"It is quite useless for you to attempt to dissuade me from my purpose. I have made up my mind," said Carew doggedly.
Baptiste at once abandoned his threatening tone, and spoke in a respectful manner. "You have been very lucky so far; but don't be rash. Remember that luck assists him who assists himself. Consider how recklessly imprudent it would be to leave these men on the island. They would soon signal to a passing vessel, and be taken off; and pray, what then would our poor heads be worth?"
"Vessels constantly sight Trinidad," replied Carew, "but they never pass very near it. For the other side of the island is fringed with dangerous rocks far out to sea, as the chart will show you; and, since the prevailing wind hereabouts is south-east, a ship would give this side also a wide berth, for fear of being becalmed under the lee of the mountains. How could the men signal to a vessel miles out at sea?"
"Necessity finds a How. What is to prevent them from lighting a large fire?"
"We will not leave them the means of lighting a fire."
"They would soon discover the means. Suppose, for instance, they picked up some empty bottle that had been washed on shore, they could use the bottom of it as a burning-glass. I have heard of such a thing being done."
"I will not argue the question with you. Those men shall be landed on that island; they shall not die on board this vessel."
"Even if I agreed to run so great a risk, I know that the other two would not. You do not want a civil war on board, do you, captain?"
"I do not fear one. You cannot do without me, and you all know it. If you murdered me and took this vessel into port, do you imagine that the salvage would be handed over to you without demur, as it would be to me if I applied for it? Grave suspicions would be raised, and there would be a minute investigation. Those two idiots would contradict each other in their evidence. It would all end in one of you turning Queen's evidence and the other two being hanged. Is not that right?"
"I cannot deny that there is reason in your remarks," said Baptiste coolly. "Now am I to understand that you wish these men to live?"
"I repeat that they shall not die on board this vessel!"
Baptiste's keen eyes scanned Carew's careworn face; then the Provençal smiled, for he fancied that he now understood the working of the Englishman's mind. "This clever idiot must be humoured," he said to himself. "This is a new 'fixed idea' of his. He shrinks from bloodshed; he will not sanction it. But if we take these men on shore for him, knock them on the head there without consulting him, and then return to him with some fine excuse about their having resisted us and so compelled us to kill them in self-defence—why, he will pretend to believe us; he will ask no questions, and be glad that the danger has been removed. I understand this strange man now."
Not exactly these ideas, but others somewhat similar to them, had indeed crossed Carew's mind. He was quite aware that it would be the height of folly to leave the prisoners alive on the island, but he wished to postpone as long as possible the murder which he felt was inevitable, hoping that yellow fever or some other interposition of Providence would solve the difficulty for him in the meanwhile.
Baptiste now roused the two Spaniards, and sail was made as quickly as possible, so that an anchorage might be reached before the wind dropped, for there were sure signs of calm in the sky.
Being so few in number, they dared not put much sail on the vessel. As Carew was unacquainted with the management of square-rigged craft, Baptiste gave the orders. First the foretopmast staysail was set and the sheets hauled aft so as to pay off before the wind. Then the two Spaniards were sent aloft to loose the fore upper and lower topsails, while Carew and Baptiste squared the yards. After this the maintopsail was also set.
"That will be enough canvas for her," said Baptiste. "Now, sir, if you'll take the wheel, we will get her all ready for coming to an anchor."
So going forward the mate saw that an anchor was got over the bows and that a sufficient length of cable was ranged in front of the windlass.
The vessel sailed slowly towards the island until midday, when the expected calm fell upon the sea. However, as the current was setting straight on shore, the barque drifted on till four o'clock in the afternoon, when she was about half a mile from the breakers, and the anchor was let go in twenty fathoms of water.
The scene that lay before them as they approached was appalling in its grandeur. They could perceive no vegetation of any description on the lofty mountains, which rose almost perpendicularly from the sea-foam into a bank of dark clouds that had now gatheredon the summit of the island. The fire-consumed crags were often of strange metallic colours,—red and green and coppery yellow,—which gave the scenery an unearthly appearance, but most of the island was of a dismal coal-black.
Some of the mountains seemed to have been shaken to pieces by the fires and earthquakes of volcanic action; for they sloped to the sea in huge landslips of black stones. Gigantic basaltic columns many hundreds of feet in height descended into the waves along a considerable portion of this savage coast, a formidable wall that defied the mariner to land. In a few places only a narrow margin of shore divided the sea from the inaccessible cliffs, and this was encumbered with sharp coral and great boulders that had fallen from above.
The barque was anchored off the entrance of a profound and most gloomy ravine, from which a stream of water fell as a cascade into the sea. The head of this ravine, high above, was lost in dense clouds. It looked like the road to some mysterious and unknown world.
Not only were the sights of this coast such as to terrify the imagination, but so likewise were the sounds. Though this was the lee side of the island, and was protected from the high swell which, raised by the south-east trade wind, breaks so furiously on the back of Trinidad, yet the sea rolled in very heavily witha stupendous roar that was echoed with dismal, hollow reverberations among the rocky ravines. After the breaking of a higher wave than usual, great masses of water would be dashed up the sides of a cliff to a great height. Deep fiords opened out in places; but even these afforded no shelter. Within them the sea raged as furiously as it did outside.
This remote and rarely visited island was evidently a favourite breeding-place for several varieties of sea-birds. Vast numbers flew through the rigging of the vessel, uttering savage cries. So unaccustomed were they to the sight of man that they showed no timidity, but rather indignation, at his invasion, and a disposition to drive him off again. Many of them wheeled round the heads of the sailors with angry shrieks, approaching so near that they could easily have been caught with the hand.
"I don't at all like the look of the island of Trinidad," said Baptiste. "It is the most inhospitable place I have ever seen. I am not surprised that no one cares to live here. How large is it?"
"It is about fifteen miles round," Carew replied. "The Portuguese tried centuries ago to establish a settlement here, but they soon abandoned it. It is very barren, and so dangerous a surge breaks continually round every part of it that it is often impossible to effect a landing for weeks at a time."
"It seems to me that it will be impossible to land to-day," said Baptiste.
Carew went up into the maintop with a telescope, and after having closely examined the features of the shore, descended on deck again. "I thought I was right, Baptiste. We are anchored off what the pilot-book calls The Cascade, and I can see the landing-place described by former visitors to the island."
"I can see nothing but a mass of foam. I can see nothing like a landing-place."
"It is not visible from the deck. To the left of the cascade over there a long black rock stretches far out to sea beyond the breakers, forming a sort of natural pier. That is the easiest landing-place in the whole island. We will lower a boat at once, and put the prisoners on shore."
Baptiste again looked keenly into Carew's face as he put the question. "Do you wish us to release them when we have landed them, and allow them to run wild over those picturesque crags like a lot of goats—or what do you wish?"
"Let them have food before you take them off; and leave them, bound as they are now, on the beach for this night. To-morrow I will decide what is to be done with them."
"It is always to-morrow with you, captain; but it matters not. We are becalmed, and are, therefore, not wasting time by this ridiculoustrifling. It is a pity that there are no wild beasts on these desert islands who would kindly eat up these men for us in the night. They are becoming a nuisance."
The Spaniards grumbled a good deal when they heard that they were to take the prisoners alive on shore; but they did not dare to disobey Carew.
The two sick men, who were now recovering from the fever, were brought on deck, and they, together with the other prisoners, were lowered into one of the boats. All were still so securely bound that they could not move a limb.
Carew stayed on board the barque while his three men pulled off to the island.
They reached the projecting rock, and found that its sides were perpendicular, so that the boat could be brought alongside. The prisoners were not landed without considerable difficulty, and even danger, for they had to be dragged quickly on shore at the moment when the boat rising to a wave had her gunwale on a level with the summit of this natural jetty, before she dropped down again into the trough between the seas.
At last the disembarkation was safely effected, and the painter having been made fast to a large stone, the boat was left to tumble about against the rough side of the jetty, in imminent danger of staving herself in, while the prisoners were carried one by one up the rugged shore.
Then they laid the helpless men down. Even the brutal Spaniards, when they looked around them, were impressed by the weirdness of the scene. Whenever the sides of the ravine or of the mountains were not too steep they were densely covered with trees, which had not been visible from the vessel's deck. Now every one of these trees was dead; there was not a live one among them. They were of all sizes. Some stood erect as they had grown, some lay prone on the rocks; but all had been dead for long ages. On all the skeleton branches of this forest of desolation were sitting large sea-birds of foul appearance, who raised discordant cries, as if to repel the intruders, and did not take to flight, but fought savagely with any of the men who came near to them. There was no live vegetation to be seen, with the exception of certain snake-like creepers, which clung to the surface of the ground, and which bore large seed-pods of vivid green—sinister and poisonous-looking plants, that seemed well suited to this forlorn region. It was a scene appalling to the imagination, and the whole of Trinidad is of a like gloomy character. The same dead trees cover it throughout. It seems probable that at some remote period a terrific volcanic eruption destroyed every living thing on the island with its showers of poisonous ash; and where once rose from the tropical ocean a fair land, green with pleasant woods, is now ahideous wreck, more sterile than the desert itself.
"It might be the gate of hell," said El Toro in an awed voice, looking up the ravine.
"Now, comrades," cried Baptiste, "there is no time to lose. I don't like to leave the boat long where she is. As our merciful skipper objects to bloodshed, we must lash our prisoners to these trees."
"What are you going to do with us—kill us?" asked one of the captives gruffly.
"No; we are going to leave you here, tied up," replied Baptiste.
"What! to starve to death?"
"Indeed I don't know," said Baptiste, with a shrug of his shoulders. "This is not my doing. Our captain is a cruel man. It seems that it amuses him to play with you poor fellows as a cat does with a mouse. This is his scheme, my children, not mine. I am merciful."
The men were now secured to the dead trees, and the three villains were moving off to their boat when one of the Frenchmen—the only one who did not meet his fate with fortitude, and who showed signs of the most abject terror—screamed out—
"Oh, Monsieur Baptiste, let me go—let me go! I will join you. I will not betray you. I will help you work the ship. I will be your slave if you spare me!"
His comrades reviled him for his cowardice, but he still continued his piteous entreaties.
Baptiste turned round and gazed with a sardonic smile into the man's white, fear-distorted face. He felt that this was very much the way he would behave himself in similar circumstances, but he did not spare his own faults in others; few men do.
"So you would join us, would you? But how do I know if I can trust you, my friend? You may betray us when we get into port. Will you give me a proof of your fidelity?"
"I will give you any proof you wish," cried the wretched man, writhing in his bonds, but quite unable to move.
"Now, if I see you commit a far greater crime than any that I and my crew have committed, I shall know that you dare not tell tales. If I release you and give you a knife, will you kill all your comrades for me?"
The man burst into hysterical tears. "Yes!" he shrieked—"yes! Anything for my life."
Baptiste laughed contemptuously.
"Miserable man! Your answer is sufficient for me. We do not want such cowardly traitors among our crew. You shall stay here and die by the side of your braver comrades."
Baptiste and the two Spaniards then hurried off to the boat, for the sun was just setting. They pulled off to the barque, and the mate reported to the captain what he had done.
About an hour after their return—the night having settled down upon the ocean—Carew was sitting by himself on the quarter-deck. The hollow roar of the waves upon the beach sounded louder than in the daytime, and the vessel rolled in the swell caused by the recoil of the distant rollers.
All manner of strange and frightful noises came from the direction of the mysterious island. It seemed to Carew that he heard groans and wails echoing among the ravines, but he put this down to his imagination—to the now greatly unstrung condition of his nerves.
Suddenly he started to his feet, his heart beating violently. What was that he heard? Surely that last dreadful cry did not exist only in his fancy.
"Baptiste, come here!" he called out.
The mate sauntered up.
"Listen!" whispered Carew; "do you hear nothing?"
"Nothing but the noise of the breakers."
Once more arose that awful cry. It was as a shriek of unutterable despair and agony; faint, but easily to be distinguished when the lull came between one roller and another.
"What is it?"
Baptiste himself turned white at the sound. "I know not; it makes one's blood run cold. See, they too have heard it."
The Spaniards came up.
"Oh, sir!" cried El Toro, his voice indistinct with terror, "let us make sail at once and leave behind us this horrible place. Hark! that cry again! It is as the shrieks of the doomed in hell. That island is the abode of evil spirits who are mocking us."
"We cannot set sail in a flat calm. We must wait," said Carew, in a low voice.
They stood on the deck and listened in silence. For half an hour or more those appalling cries continued; then they died away, and nothing was heard but the roaring of the ocean upon an iron-bound coast.
On the following day the fiery sun again blazed down upon the guilty ship out of a cloudless and windless sky. It seemed probable that one of those oppressive calms that are so frequent on this portion of the ocean would detain the barque for some days longer at her present anchorage.
In the early morning, when the west side of the island was still plunged in shade, Carew approached the mate, who was enjoying his matutinal cup of coffee and cigarette on the quarter-deck.
"Baptiste," he said, "I want a boat lowered; I am going on shore."
"Good, sir. How many of us do you wish to accompany you?"
"Thank you; I want none of you. Put the yacht's dinghy over the side. She is the handiest boat on board; and I will pull off by myself."
"That will not be safe," objected Baptiste; "there is no place to beach a boat yonder, and she would smash up if you left her bangingabout alongside that rocky landing-place; we nearly lost the cutter in that way last night. If you desire to take a solitary promenade on that cheerful island, I will pull you off there myself in the dinghy, leave you, and return for you at any hour you mention."
Carew assented to this proposal, and prepared himself for the journey by placing his sheath-knife and loaded revolver in his belt. Baptiste watched him curiously, and wondered whether this eccentric Englishman had at last summoned up resolution, and was about to despatch the prisoners outright, as being a more merciful proceeding than allowing them to starve to death. Baptiste ventured no remark on the subject, for he observed that his captain was in a taciturn and absent-minded mood; and there was a peculiar, far-off look in his eyes that the Frenchman could not understand, not knowing that Carew had been dosing himself for the last few days with laudanum from his medicine chest, in the vain hope that the drug might numb the tortures of his conscience.
The dinghy was got overboard, and while Carew sat in the sternsheets, Baptiste took the oars and pulled leisurely across the smooth ocean swell.
While they were yet half-way to the shore, the boat shot suddenly out of the fervent sunshine into the cool dark shadow cast by the lofty mountains.
Baptiste, feeling the rapid change, rested on his oars, and looked round towards the pile of barren hills. "Ugh, what a horrid place!" he cried. "I have a sensation as if I were passing into the mouth of a tomb. I should not like to explore that island alone."
"Pull away!" said Carew impatiently. "Are you superstitious, like those two Spanish brutes?"
"Superstition is not one of my failings, captain," replied the Provençal, as he rowed on again; "but those dreadful cries we heard last night seem to be still ringing in my ears. I wonder what they could have been?"
"When you have put me on shore," said Carew, paying no heed to Baptiste's words, "you can go back to the barque. I shall probably remain on the island three or four hours. Then I will return to the landing-place, and stand on the end of it till you come off for me. So see that someone looks out for me with a telescope occasionally."
"We won't keep you waiting, for I know that you will soon have had enough of Trinidad. But perhaps monsieur has a scientific mind, and desires to study the botany, zoology, geology, and so forth, of the island?"
Carew made no reply to this. They came alongside the promontory of black coral, and found that the sea was not rolling in so heavilyas on the previous day. The Englishman landed without any difficulty.
"Good-bye, sir," Baptiste called out. "You will find the prisoners behind the first big boulder up the ravine." Then he pulled lazily back to the vessel.
Carew was now alone on the desert island with his captives. He looked to his knife and pistol to see that they were ready to his hand, and proceeded to clamber cautiously along the narrow, slippery ledge.
At the farther end he found a loathsome monster standing in his way, seemingly quite indifferent to his approach; for it did not budge, but remained quite still, its ungainly form spread across the causeway, so that he had to step over it to pass by. Carew had never before seen one of the species; but he recognised this as a tropical land-crab—one of a hideous race of crustacea that swarm on this island, sharing the possession of Trinidad with the sea-birds and the snakes. In his present nervous state, Carew was startled by the sight of this repulsive-looking creature. It must have extended two feet across from claw to claw. Its colour was a bright saffron, and its grotesque features, which were turned towards the man, seemed to be fixed in a cynical grin. Its cruel-looking yellow pincers, hard as steel, could have bitten through an inch board, and between them was clutched—Carew sickenedwhen he saw it—a fragment of the flesh of some animal.
Reaching the rugged shore, he found it covered with these land-crabs. They crawled over the rocks and the dead trees, and the air was full of a multitudinous crackling noise, produced by the small particles of stone dislodged by their motion—a sound as of a distant bonfire, or as of an army of locusts settling on a field of maize.
On the evening before, when the men had landed, they had seen none of these creatures; now there were thousands of them on the mountain-side. But it is well known that land-crabs at certain periods of the year migrate in immense hosts from one district to another.
Even on the previous afternoon, when the coast was illumined by the full glory of the setting sun, Baptiste and the two Spaniards had been impressed by the desolate aspect before them. But now that a dark shadow was thrown over the chaotic masses of volcanic rock, the scenery was inexpressibly dreary and forbidding. Had there been no signs of life on the land, it would have appeared less terrible than with that ghastly vegetation of dead trees and snake-like creepers, and the teeming generation of silent crabs and foul sea-birds perpetually raising their hoarse cries.
Carew looked round with the sense of vague terror that is experienced in a nightmare. Hefelt all the influence of this stern nature so hostile to the life of man. It seemed to him that at any moment some fearful cataclysm of the earth, or some unexampled calamity of any sort, might occur. It would not have appeared strange to him to behold a fire-breathing dragon or gigantic snake—such as are supposed to live in fable only—issue from that gloomy ravine. Nothing could have appeared too strange to happen on this mysterious shore.
The prisoners could not be seen from the landing-place, as the clump of trees to which they had been lashed was some little way up the ravine, and a huge boulder of black rock stood in front of it. Carew heard no sound of voices as he approached. He considered it very unlikely that the men had succeeded in freeing themselves from their bonds; but, prepared for any emergency, he held his revolver in his hand and walked round the corner of the rock.
He looked towards the clump of dead brown trees.
His hand relaxed its grasp, and the revolver fell with a ringing sound on the rocks. He was struck motionless with a great horror. He stood fascinated, staring before him with wide-open eyes, unwincing. He would have given worlds to have closed his lids and shut out what he saw, but he could not. It was as if some irresistible power was holding him there,compelling him to look until every horrible detail of the scene should be burnt into his brain for ever.
It was only for a few seconds, and then the spell was broken. He covered his face with his hands and staggered back. Then turning from the sight, he rushed away, not caring whither, sobbing such sobs as the lost souls in hell may sob in their despair—a dreadful sobbing, that told of a hopeless agony too intense to be endured for long by weak human flesh. Suddenly he stopped short, looked wildly round him, raised his hands towards the skies, and, uttering shrill shriek upon shriek, threw himself on the ground. He rolled down the steep incline for some way, cutting his hands and face with the sharp rocks, and when at last a projecting stone prevented his farther descent, he lay foaming at the mouth and writhing convulsively in an epileptic fit.
* * * * * *
The tragic spectacle the man had suddenly come upon might indeed well have made him, the guilty cause of it, go mad with horror. The fearful cries that had been heard from the vessel were now explained. The voracious land-crabs had done his work. He had gazed upon his victims, and he felt that his limbs were paralysed; but his brain was intensely, unnaturally active. It seemed to him that a voice had said, "Look, and grasp all that there is to see, and remember,before the relief of madness is allowed to thee. Thou hast murdered sleep, and shalt never know peace again. For ever, in the worlds to come, the picture of this that thou hast done shall be branded on thy soul!"
And he had been forced to look; not a detail of the horror was spared him. The surroundings of the scene, the weird black rocks, the gaunt dead trees, everything about the accursed spot entered into his brain. He even noticed with what callous indifference Nature seemed to contemplate the hideous evidences of the crime. Quite heedless, the huge crabs dragged their clumsy bodies slowly over the stones. The sea-birds fought noisily with each other for morsels of fish among the skeleton branches of the trees, careless of those ghastly relics of poor humanity beneath them. He felt how fitting a scene for such a tragedy was this doleful corner of the earth, this island that a malevolent fiend might have created, where Nature had no beauty, no love, no pity, and where, like some foul witch, she could only conceive forms of life cruel and repulsive, and become a mother of monsters.
* * * * * *
The sun was low in the heaven, and Carew woke out of a profound slumber, weak, parched with thirst, his mind dazed. He raised himself on his elbow, and, looking round him, he found that he was lying on a beach of beautiful goldensand that fringed an extensive bay. From the sands there sloped up to a great height domes of loose stones of red volcanic formation, of all shapes and sizes, the débris of shattered mountains, and from the summits of these slopes there rose what the earthquakes had still left of the solid hills—dark red pinnacles: some squared like gigantic towers, others pointed like pyramids. The bay was enclosed by two huge buttresses of rock that stretched as rugged promontories far out into the ocean. There was no vegetation, not even a blade of grass, visible anywhere on this savage coast. Looking seawards he saw that a vast number of black rocks, among which raged a furious surf, bordered the shore. Beyond these were the outer reefs on which the sea broke heavily. And still farther out, on the horizon, rose three rocky islands of considerable size, glowing red as the sun's rays fell full upon them.
Carew could not imagine where he was and how he had reached this place. He tried to think. By degrees he called to mind the dreadful sight he had seen in the ravine; but he could remember nothing that had occurred since then. As the sun was to the back of the hills, he fancied that it was still early in the forenoon, and that he had wandered a short distance only from South West Bay; though the presence of the distant islands and the different character of the coast perplexed him.
But he could think of nothing at that moment except the satisfaction of the fearful thirst that was tormenting him.
He rose to his feet, eager to reach the cascade as soon as possible. He felt that he should die if he could not procure water soon.
But in which direction had he to go—to the left or to the right? He could not tell.
Then he saw his footprints on the soft sand, showing the way that he had come. He had but to follow them.
Dizzy and faint, and often stumbling, he wearily retraced his steps. The footprints led him along the shore to that extremity of the bay which would have been on the left hand of one looking seaward. Reaching the promontory of rock he clambered to the summit of it; and then, to his dismay, he looked down upon another extensive bay, at the farther end of which was a mountain of square shape falling perpendicularly into the surf, and preventing all further progress in that direction. An ocean current must be perpetually setting into this bay, for he perceived that the shore was strewn with a prodigious quantity of wreckage. The spars and barrels were heaped up together in places. There were vessels lying crushed among the sharp rocks; others were sunk in the sand, their skeleton ribs alone showing; there were vessels of all sizes, and some of very antique construction—relics of disaster that hadbeen collecting gradually on this desert coast unvisited by man through all the ages since European keels first clove the southern seas: a melancholy record of much suffering and the loss of many gallant men.
Then Carew began to suspect the truth, and a great dread fell on him. Lying down he placed a small stone on the edge of a shadow cast by a pointed rock, and watched it with a breathless suspense.
Yes, it was as he had feared.The shadow was slowly lengthening!He laid his face on the ground and wept hysterically in his despair.
The shadow was lengthening, therefore the sun was setting. It was setting inland over the mountains, and thus the sea was to the east of him. So—unconsciously, by what road he knew not—he must have traversed the whole island, and he was now on the coast the most remote from South West Bay. The cascade, the water he was dying for, was miles away, beyond those great hills. He could never reach it in his present state.
He was on the weather side of Trinidad.
Those heavy breakers on the reefs were caused by the high swell of the south-east trades, and there on the horizon were the three islands of Martin Vas, twenty-five miles away.
So he despaired and lay down on the rocks, and longed for the release of death. Then he became delirious, and fancied that he was inFleet Street again, and was going into a tavern with some comrades to drink a glass of wine. But once more the agony of thirst woke him to a consciousness of his position. He staggered to his feet, and ran on blindly a few yards; then he stumbled, and fell to his knees.
Ah! what was that gleaming so temptingly before him?—an illusion only to mock him into madness with its lying promise. He stretched his hand to it—touched it. He plunged his face into it.
It was water—fresh water; a small pool left in a hollow of a rock by the last rains. It was nauseous to the taste, and heated by the tropical sun; but it was water, and infinitely more precious to him at that moment than all the gold quartz in his vessel's hold. He drank fiercely and long, before his craving was assuaged; then his senses returned to him, and, though still very weak, he felt capable of making an effort to save his life.
He descended the farther side of the buttress of rock that divides the two bays, and again followed his footprints, which led him across the wreck-strewn sands to the entrance of a ravine that clove the mountains, and seemed to afford the only practicable pass across them.