The Skipper's tone was reverent, but full of horror. We all, even to the Cook, ran up to a higher spot to see what had so disturbed the old man.
"You'll see it just as well from the beach," said the Skipper. "They've set the old Yankee afire!"
It was true. We could not see very clearly for the smoke which the firing had made, but as we gazed anxiously, knowing what the entire loss of the ship would mean for us, we saw that smoke had begun to pour from the ports and hatches. First appeared the misty stream which the Skipper had discovered, then it grew thicker.
As we gazed, fascinated with the horrible spectacle, the flames began to shoot upward. They curled round the lower mast, they ran up the rigging, they licked their way up the shrouds. They ran aloft, and swallowed the crosstrees, first having eaten into the very tops. The smoke was thicker than ever, and made a dark background for the points and jets of flame, which leaped through its walls. And now, as we watched breathless, each one glued to his post, no word spoken between us, a long, low, ominous rumble came to our ears. There were two or three sharp cracks, the flames leaped to the sky, there was a final thunderous crash, and the air was a mass of flying timbers. I turned to look at the Skipper. The glass had fallen unheeded from his fingers, the tears were dropping off the end of his nose. He winked hard, and took out a bandana and wiped his forehead to hide his emotion.
"I suppose you think I'm an old fool to stand here and cry like a baby. Perhaps you don't think I should feel anything to see my handsome ship go up in smoke." The old man's lips quivered. "She's been home and wife and children to me for a good many years, the old Yankee Blade has—yes, and a livin'. I ought to have stayed at home. I never should have tried it again. I was foolish; I deserted her; I never should have done it but for that damn' girl, who don't appreciate it any more——"
Cynthia's arms were round the old man's neck.
"Dear Uncle Tony! I do appreciate it. I do! I do! I didn't know you were doing it for me. I thought——"
"And I thought they would leave, and we could perhaps get her afloat again. Is there anything left of her, Jones? I suspect we've seen the last of the old Yankee Blade." He turned and walked down the hill. I stooped and picked up the glass and handed it to Cynthia.
She turned it on the spot where the Yankee had gone on the rocks. A dull, thick smoke overhung the place. On the hither side we could see a mass of wreckage. Some large splinters of wood were floating in the water. We heard repeated shots, but the other vessels were obscured from view by the smoke which they themselves had made, as well as that which enveloped the wreck of the Yankee.
"I think there's a little of her left, Uncle Tony," said Cynthia. "She seems to stand up on the rock, part of her. Oh, if they could only see us! We haven't anything to signal with, not even an apron."
She seized the sunbonnet from her head and waved it wildly in the air. "They must see us!" she said. "They must!" But her action was of no avail. Our sight could not penetrate the smoke, and the vessels, even if their crews could have seen us, were too busy to notice us. Cynthia waved until her arm dropped tired at her side.
"We'll have to give it up, I suppose," she said. "Good-bye, old Yankee Blade, good-bye!" And together we descended the hill. Captain Schuyler had turned his back on the ocean and was talking with the Cook.
"No use crying over spilt milk," I heard him say. The Cook regarded him as surlily as he dared. The pudding lay heavy in his interior, mental and physical.
"We'd better get some food ready and then put out the fire. No knowing who's lurking round."
"Why, Uncle Tony, isn't Haïti a friendly country?"
"Friendly enough, girl, but we don't know what's happened since we were here before. Might have had forty revolutions. These fellows are always revolutin'.—Now, my men, stir round and beat out that fire! Reckon the crawlers are all killed or scattered. Come, men, stir your stumps! Do you hear me?"
The Skipper looked round at the men.
They were standing apart, conversing in low tones. They did not move at once.
"Isn't it exciting?" whispered Cynthia, her eyes shooting out light from the funnel. "Do you believe it's a mutiny? I hope it is. I never saw a mutiny. I believe they usually say: 'Now look a-here, Cap'n, we ain't a-goin' to stand this sort of thing! It's a-goin' to be share and share alike. There ain't no officers and there ain't no men. We're all equal on this here island.'"
I laughed.
"You must have read some very instructive books in your time, Miss Archer," I said.
"Yes, I have. I seem to know exactly what they are saying. Don't you think I understand pretty well how they conduct a mutiny?"
"Yes—in books," I said. I laughed, more to disabuse her mind than anything else. I remembered a very pretty mutiny a few years back. For weeks I never sleptwithout seeing those men strung up to the yard-arm with not a moment in which to say a prayer. I thought this a good time to advance myself a little in her favour, and at the same time make her forget the loneliness of her situation. I saw that the Skipper seemed to be arguing with the sailors, and that he seemed to want no help from me.
"I wish that I could express to you, Miss Archer, how really beautiful I think you. The English language is feeble to convey all that——"
"When we get home, Mr. Jones," Cynthia broke in, "I will lend you a book which contains all the adjectives you could possibly need——"
I looked at her to see if she was in earnest.
"It is called 'The Complete Idiot.' Now do stop your nonsense and look at those sailors. What do you suppose they are saying to Uncle?"
I withdrew my gaze from her face and regarded the men as they stood in a group near the Skipper. Their attitude did savour somewhat of insubordination. We could not hear their words or the Skipper's as he answered them.
When they had finished, they proceeded to the glade where the fire had been kindled, and began to beat the bushes with a will. Then, with brooms improvised of thickly leaved branches, they swept the place clean.
"Will that do, Cap'n?" asked Bill Tomkins.
"Yes, I call that a pretty handsome clean up," answered the Skipper. "Now you men go and sit down upon the beach and I'll send you some food."
They withdrew in a cluster, and sat down on the beach as directed. The Cook, who had been broiling some pork, handed us our shares first, each slice on a piece of hard bread. Then he served the men.
Cynthia took her ration and ate as heartily as the rest of us.
"Is it mutiny, Uncle? I was never in a mutiny."
"Wasn't you, really? Well, it is mutiny, if you like to call it so, Cynthy.—Give me some tobacco, Cook; and you, Minion, just run up the hill and see if those ships are in sight."
The Cook handed the Skipper the tobacco with a look that expressed the wish that it had been gunpowder instead, and the thin young lad, who was at everybody's beck and call, ran as fast as his legs could carry him up to the little knoll. The Skipper seated himself in the shade and puffed away. Cynthia hung anxiously on every puff, every breath.
"Uncle, will you never speak? If you knew how interested I am——"
Captain Schuyler sat, his pipe in his mouth, and talked one-sidedly between the puffs.
"The idiots want to walk to Cap Haïtien," said the Skipper. "I tell 'em it's worse than foolish, but they seem pretty determined. They say they can do it in two days' time. Must be twenty miles or more, following the shore. They say they can bring back horses for the rest of us."
"That's an excellent idea!" said Cynthia. "I don't believe I shall get tired of pork in two days' time. I don't know about the third. Have we enough food for two days, Uncle?"
"Lord, yes! We'll get along a week easy.—What do you think, Jones?"
"I'd let 'em try it," said I. "Of course, they'll never come back. I've seen 'em start off before this to bring aid and succour. They never returned, except in story-books."
"If I was sure of that, I'd let 'em go mighty quick," said the Skipper. "We're better off without 'em."
He turned to the group. "How many of you want to go?" He raised his voice, so that it would carry to where they sat.
Tomkins stood up and answered respectfully:
"All but the Bo's'n and the Minion, sir."
There was a certain decision in Tomkins' tone, which revealed the fact to me that they intended going, permission or not.
"The Cook, too?" asked Cynthia.
The Cook looked down and shuffled his feet.
"I can cook, Cap'n, miss, sir, beggin' your pardon, ma'm, Mr. Jones," volunteered the Bo's'n.
"Good enough!" said the Skipper. "Let Cook fit you out with vittles, men. What have you got for water?"
Bill Ware spoke up eagerly:
"Tomkins says as there's two or three springs on the way, sir——"
"How does he know?" asked the astonished Skipper.
"Been here before, sir, so he was a-tellin' us last night. Says it's a puffec pair-o-dice."
"Oh, he does, does he?—So you've been here before, have you, Tomkins?"
Tomkins looked daggers at Bill Ware.
"Yessir, I was here some years back."
"Know the coast pretty well?"
"Yessir, pretty well."
"Thought so," muttered the Skipper in a low tone. "Knew it better than I did." Then aloud: "Very well, my man. Now do you think you can get horses from whoever's governor down there, and be back in a week?"
"Sartin sure, sir," answered Tomkins unblushingly.
While Tomkins was speaking, the Skipper was muttering under his breath, "Better get rid of the rascals, anyway."
"You don't think——" said I.
"I do think——" said he.
"What! Wrecked the vessel?" asked Cynthia breathlessly.
"Yes; drove her ashore."
"Why?"
"Hush!" said the Skipper.
"Tomkins!" called Cynthia.
"For God's sake, Cynthia, don't——"
"Miss Archer, I'm usually called, sir! I believe in always going to the root of every matter."
Cynthia arose from her sitting posture. She stood tall and stately. Her dignified air recalled to my mind a young woman by the name of Portia, of whom I had once read somewhere.
"Be quiet!" said the Skipper, pulling her skirt with a rough jerk. "Sit down!"
Cynthia gently disengaged her skirt from the Skipper's hand. She removed her sunbonnet, and with her pure face turned toward the sheepish Tomkins, she looked like a very young Daniel come to judgment.
It was a strange scene, one which I shall never forget. The tropic shore, the shipwrecked crew, the young girl standing forth as the exponent of right—foolhardy, if you like, but fearless in her righteous indignation.
She raised her hand, commanding the attention of the men.
"Tomkins," she said, "as you shall answer at the day of judgment, when the secrets of all hearts shall be revealed, did you wreck the Yankee Blade?"
The man shifted from one foot to the other, his head hanging down. He looked up with ferret eyes from under his sparse eyebrows.
"'Fore God——" began Tomkins.
"You are before God!" said Cynthia sternly.
He ground his feet restlessly, making little pools in the gravel of the shore.
"O Lord!" groaned the Skipper helplessly.
"Well, then, miss, 'fore God, I didn't!"
"Remember you're on oath, Tomkins. Well, then, who did?"
"Beg his pardon, ma'm, it was Mr. Jones!"
"I!"
Cynthia turned upon me a glance of most withering scorn and horror.
"You hear what this honest sailor says, Mr. Jones?"
"Tell you how it was, ma'm," said Tomkins. "I come on deck this mornin', long 'bout 'leven o'clock, and I see we was goin' straight for the land. Skipper was below, you was below. Mr. Jones, he had the wheel. I says, 'Fer Gord's sake, Mr. Jones,' I says, 'what are you a-doin', sir?' He says, says he, 'You, Tomkins, mind your da—, mind your busi——'"
"Shut up, Tomkins!" said the Skipper. "If you're goin', you'd better get ready."
Cynthia turned on me.
"What could possess you to do such a thing?"
"I was so anxious to get home to see William Brown," said I. "Haven't we had enough of this farce, Miss Archer?"
The Skipper laughed aloud, and I saw the backs of some of the men shaking.
"Don't be any more kinds of a fool than you can help, Cynthy. Sit down and keep cool until we can get rid of those rascals. Thank God they've elected to go! The sooner they take up their march the better for all hands."
"Do you mean to tell me, Uncle Tony, that you don't believe Tomkins on his oath?"
"What!" The Skipper's voice had the rising inflection. The word was uttered in a tone between a roar and an incredulous scream. "Believe a sailor?" roared the Skipper. "What are you talking about, Cynthy? Believe a sailor? O Lord!"
The men saw the Skipper's amusement, and doubtless judged of the cause.
"No use in threatening Tomkins," he said in my ear. "Better treat it as a joke, and let them go."
"As you say, Captain Schuyler; but when Mr. Tomkins and I meet again, there will be a reckoning that he won't forget, I'll warrant."
"Perhaps he really thought so," said Cynthia. "Hadn't they better wait until morning? It's getting so late now. They might be lonely without us."
"Now, Cynthy, don't you go and suggest any such a thing. We shan't be lonely withoutthem. We shall be well rid of 'em, the Lord knows.—Here, you, Cook, fry some pork for those lunatics! Give 'em two days' rations, and let each man carry his own."
While the Cook was frying the pork, I noticed that the men were busy behind some guava trees at a little distance from the place where we were sitting. I had placed the pillow and blanket at the root of an enormous tree, and had made as comfortable a seat for Cynthia and the Skipper as my limited means would allow. The Skipper had his coat off, and was fanning himself with his great panama hat. The sun was broiling down upon us, but Cynthia looked as cool as a piece of ice from the Passaic River. I never saw such a provoking girl. While every one else was sweltering, she appeared perfectly comfortable. I was trying to balance myself upon a rather sharp piece of rock and to keep the men in my eye at the same time. We could not see much of them. They were stooping down, with their backs toward us.
The Skipper turned lazily round. Suddenly he straightened himself and glared at the group in the bushes.
"What have you got there, Bill Ware?" shouted he.
The Skipper's tone of authority startled the men.
They arose to a standing posture. Bill Ware turned his face toward us.
"We've—we've found some guavas, sir, that's all. I'll bring you over some."
"No, no, I'll come over. I don't know as I remember ever having seen guavas growing on——"
But Bill Ware had started toward us with great alacrity.
"Don't come here, sir, for the Lord's sake! The place is alive with scorpions."
The Skipper thought better of it, and waited until Bill Ware's arrival. The man walked across, holding something in his hand. When he came near, we discovered two very small and very unripe guavas.
He came close to Cynthia and handed the fruits to her. His face was very red. His breath was almost upon her cheek. She started back.
"Are those guavas? What a curious odour guavas have, Uncle!"
"I never noticed it," said he.
"How queerly Bill Ware walks!" said Cynthia, as she watched his return to his mates. "I never noticed it on board ship. I suppose he hasn't got his land legs on yet."
The Skipper raised himself and looked critically at the man.
"Those are the legs he always has on when he goes ashore," said he.
I had my suspicions, and I saw that the Skipper had his, but I did not want to frighten the girl and anger the men. Besides, she might not be frightened. She seemed to think that she had been sent into this world to set things right, and no one knew what tack she might take next.
The Skipper took out his silver watch. "Come, men, you'd better start! It's gettin' late. You'll want to pick out a good place for the night. It comes down in a minute in the tropics, you know.—Cook, are you ready?"
The men arose, turned one after the other, and came lingeringly out of the bushes.
"Are there any more of those guavas?"
"It's a little early, sir," said Tomkins. "They don't ripen well until the last of May."
Bill Tomkins's tongue seemed thick and his speech halting.
"Well, it's time to start. Cook'll give you your rations. Come, now! Good-bye, my men. Don't forget to bring those horses. We shall expect you by daybreak on Saturday." (We had gone ashore on a Monday.)
"Yessir, you expect us, sir," answered Tomkins.
The men took their rations from the Cook, then they one and all paid a last visit to the bushes to seek for a few more guavas before they left us, and then, with a hang-dog nod and touch of their caps, they took up their straggling march. We sat watching them as they moved westward in a wavering line.
"It must be very hard work walking up that beach," said Cynthia. "Did you remark what a difficult time Bill Ware had to get pointed straight, Uncle Tony?"
The Skipper and I sat and watched them. There was no need to answer Cynthia. The men made a line as straight as the fences which we were beginning to use about Belleville. The idea came from Virginia. We called them Virginia rail fences. As the last man of them staggered round the point and was lost behind the trunks of the cocoanut grove, the Skipper arose and approached the thicket where the mango tree stood. I followed a close second, and Cynthia came behind.
"I thought as much!" exclaimed the Skipper. He had parted the bushes and stood looking downward. I gazed over his shoulder, and Cynthia condescended to stand on tiptoe and cast her eyes over mine.
"What is it, Uncle Tony?" asked she.
"Those blanked rascals! In the confusion, Jones, do you see? Broke into my store-room, of course. I wanted to bring some myself, but it's never safe with such a crew. Got that at Santo Domingo for medicinal purposes. Wish to Heaven it would physic them all! Darned if I don't! Wish now I'd put arsenic in it." And then followed some language which I will not weary you byrepeating. The Skipper was not the most profane man that I ever sailed with, but in those days of which I write—days long past, ah me!—that is saying a great deal more than any one to-day would imagine. Men, and particularly men who followed the sea, did not regard profanity as we do nowadays. Cynthia was used to the Skipper's ordinary looseness of speech, and, having heard it all her life, was astonished at very little that he said. I have learned to look upon such language with disgust, and I thank the refining influences of the day in which we live for making me see how much worse than silly it was, and, though I shall try to make the Skipper's speech sound more like the Skipper of modern times, still to make him seem at all the man that his friends knew him, I must occasionally point his marks as he himself pointed them.
Cynthia stood looking steadily at her Uncle as his adjectived indignation poured forth. When his vocabulary was exhausted, he sat down on the ground, weak from his exertion. Cynthia stood looking fixedly at him. Then, as the enormity of his offence overcame him, he drew out his bandana and mopped his face.
"Beg pardon, Cynthy, but you shouldn't have been here."
Cynthia fixed him with her glances as long as she could hold her tongue between her teeth, then turned and walked away with dignity.
"Now that girl's mad! And she'll go and tell Mary 'Zekel, and I promised Mary 'Zekel—Where'd we better put that damn thing, anyway?"
I aided the old man as he rolled the cask nearer our camping place, if the spot where we had deposited our few belongings could be called such. We had placed our cooking utensils—or the Bo's'n had for us—the parrot's cage, and the mortuary bag in a secluded spot among the trees. There happened to be a depression in the earth near where we sat, up beyond the line ofthe beach in the soft earth. We tumbled the cask in and covered it well with leaves and branches. Cynthia, whose curiosity would not allow her to remain longer away, had returned, and was watching our efforts.
"If they come back, they will demand it," remarked Cynthia.
"What! Those honest sailors?" inquired I.
I was still sore from her ill treatment of me. Cynthia's face, as much as I could see of it, was a brilliant crimson.
"Have they any weapons, Uncle Tony?" she asked, ignoring me entirely.
"Got pistols, I'll be bound, every man Jack of 'em!—By the way, Jones, what have we got in the way of firearms?"
I threw back my thin coat and displayed a pistol stuck in my belt in either side.
"Oh!" exclaimed Cynthia. "If I had known that you carried those murderous weapons, I should have refused to come ashore with you."
"From the ship, or the boat?" I asked.
She blushed again, and drooped her head so that I could see nothing but the white top of the funnel.
"I've got a fine knife," said the Skipper, "and so has the Bo's'n. He has brought some ammunition ashore, and I've got my old musket, of course."
"Do you really suppose that we shall need all those dreadful things?" asked Cynthia, her lips white and quivering.
"And you're the girl who fired on the letter of marque?" said I, for want of a more non-committal name. "What sort of a girl are you, anyway?"
Here was an anomaly, indeed! A girl who had had the courage not only to defy her Uncle and the whole ship's company, but to fire a gun which made a pretty good deal of noise when close to one's ear, afraid to listen to a simple discussion of weapons of defence! The Skipper at this moment hitched himself up a little higher, and threw his whole weight against the trunk on which he was leaning. I heard a softy, mushy crumble, and his head and shoulders disappeared from view.
I arose and ran to his aid, and at once clasped his outstretched hands and pulled with all my might. He finally, with my help, succeeded in regaining his position. He spluttered and coughed, his eyes and mouth full of the dust of decay. He rose to his feet and kicked viciously at the crumbling bark. A large piece fell inward, making an opening, into which a man could have squeezed himself. At that very moment, so mysterious are the ways of Providence, there was a short, sharp whiz and ping, and a bullet struck the tree just above my head. I lost no time in looking for the cause of this assault, but only the thick green of the near wood rewarded my searching glance. I seized Cynthia by the wrist and bent her almost to her knees. I forced her to push her way into the opening.
"It may be an attack," I said, hurriedly, to the Skipper. "Go in quickly! I will follow."
No one who has not seen the great trees of Santo Domingo and Haïti can believe to what a grand extent they grow. I have heard of the so-called "big trees" of California. The only one which I have seen is one placed in the grounds of the Smithsonian Institution at Washington. I made that trip with my wife lately. We were both of us a trifle infirm for so long a jaunt, but she agreed with me, and she has also been among the great trees of Haïti, that nothing that she had ever seen, with the exception of this one curiosity, exceeded the size of those trees in the island.
As yet we had not caught a glimpse of our secret foe. Whether he had caught sight of us or not I did not know, but, as a second bullet whizzed past my head, I hastily secreted myself also within the hollow trunk. I whispered to Cynthia to push over more to the side, and giveroom to her Uncle and myself. I could hear the beating of her heart, I stood so near her. Several bullets struck the tree, and one entered and dropped upon my foot. And now I heard some cries of anger. My curiosity became too much for me. I stood as near the opening as I could and placed my eye just over the edge of it. The voices grew louder, the bullets flew faster, and then from the bushes emerged a retreating party. Their backs were toward us. They were firing as they retreated. They were dark men, but not of pure African type.
They were unclothed, except for some trousers of white linen and a thin sort of shirt. They wore belts and carried the national weapon, the machete, stuck through the leather bands.
"Are you afraid of fainting?" I asked Cynthia. "Here, take a whiff of this." I had a little kit in my pocket which I had seized upon as I left the ship. I felt for the vial of sal-volatile, telling what it was by the smell of the cork, and pressing it into her hand.
"Faint!" she replied with scorn. "If I could only see something, I should enjoy it hugely."
"It would not be safe," I whispered. "Stand farther back. They may discover us, in any case."
"Stand farther in, Cynthy," whispered the Skipper. "I'd like nothing better than to join one side or the other, but I can't risk it with you here."
I pushed my knife through the soft, spongy wood where the bullet had entered, and made the hole larger. Here I could see, myself unseen.
"Do let me look, Mr. Jones," said Cynthia.
As any bullet which struck the tree might enter it, and she was in equal danger anywhere inside the tree, I saw no reason why she should not look if she felt so inclined. I gave up my place to her, and had to content myself with peeping through the large hole through which we had entered.
The line of retreat was now changed, for I saw theHaïtiens veer to the right, toward the beach, still firing as they retreated. There were yells and wild noises. The attacking party seemed close to us, and these sounds did not seem unfamiliar. As we gazed at this unexpected sight, we perceived that the retreating party had with, them a young girl. She was tied by the wrists to the belt of one of the men, who fired as he backed toward us. The girl did not struggle to free herself, but ran backward as the men ran. She seemed a not unwilling captive. The tall, thin mulatto would fire a shot, turn and pull his captive after him, then load and fire again. There was blood upon the girl's clothing and upon the clothes of her captors.
"Oh, that poor child!" whispered Cynthia. "I must go out and take her away from that brute!" I barred the way.
"It would be death for us all, perhaps," said I. "Wait! The attacking party may be her friends. Whatever we do, I beg of you keep concealed. That is your only safety."
"Don't be a fool, Cynthy!" whispered the Skipper hoarsely. "No one knows what's going to happen." And so prophetic were his words that, as we listened, we heard a thoroughly American whoop, participated in by several voices, and who should burst from the undergrowth, shouting as they came, but Bill Tomkins, followed by McCorkle, Bill Ware, the Growler, Hummocks, Tanby, and all the rest of them.
The attacking party seemed to remember the little camp where they had remained for so short a time. As they advanced upon the Haïtiens, they gazed around, as if the place were familiar to them, but at the same time they continued to come forward, and to fire as fast as they could load their pistols. They outnumbered the Haïtiens, as they were thirteen and the Haïtiens only four. As the Haïtiens backed toward the shore and to the eastward of our shelter, we lost sight of them entirely. I took the Skipper by the shoulders and drew him away from his position. I opened my knife and tried to pierce a hole through the tree on the side toward the water, so that I could follow the men with my eyes, but the wood was more firm than at the place where we had entered the cavity, and I could not manage it. We heard the sound of bullets rattling among the leaves, and fierce cries and oaths, mingled with long sobbing wails from the young captive, but we could now see nothing of the battle.
It was exasperating to be obliged to remain in seclusion. We might have joined the attacking party, but, though no one enjoyed a scrimmage more than I, I reflected that if the Captain or I should be killed the chances were that Cynthia would be left at the mercy of the sailors or the Haïtiens, and I could not decide in my own mind which would be the worst. The sailors were all very well so long as they had the eye and nerve oftwo men to oppose them, but if either one of us should be killed, the girl would be left with only one protector, and should anything befall him she might better be dead than to fall into the hands of the Haïtiens or of that drunken crew of sailors.
Thinking of the Haïtiens brought to my mind the keg of rum. I turned to the Skipper—rather, to the place where I knew him to be—and said:
"Captain, we do not know what may happen. These brutes may return and find the cask, and we ought to have a little of that liquor."
"No danger of their finding it," whispered the Skipper.
"Well, perhaps not," said I. "But I think I had better steal out, now that they have passed by, and get what I can. Where did the Bo's'n put the cup?"
"No need to look for that, Jones; here's my flat bottle. I didn't fill it last time I used it. Knew I had plenty on board. Take this."
I groped in the dark and my hand met the Skipper's. I took the bottle from him and went to the opening in the tree. I put my head out cautiously and listened. Shots were still being exchanged, though they sounded much farther away. I withdrew inside the tree again.
"I think," said I, speaking aloud, "that if you and Miss Archer will lie close I can manage it."
"I don't want any rum, of course," said Cynthia, "but I am dying of thirst. Do you think that you could manage to get to the breaker, Mr. Jones, and bring me a little water?"
"Where did they put the breaker?" I asked.
"Just up along the bed of that little dry creek. Not more than a hundred feet away. Directly back from the shore."
"If it is a possibility, you shall have it," I answered.
I advanced with caution from my hiding place. The trees were so thick to the eastward that I was now completely concealed from the two parties. I wanted much to follow them and discover, if possible, how the battle had waged, but Cynthia wanted the water. That was enough for me. They might take it into their heads to return, and then we should again be imprisoned. Without more ado I hastened back through the glade, and found the water breaker just where Cynthia had told me it was. I found and filled one of our two cups and returned, carrying the water carefully, so that it would not spill. When I reached the place where the rum keg lay, I uncovered it. To my surprise, I found that the bung had fallen out. In the haste with which we had moved it we had not noticed this. I saw that much of the precious liquid had been lost. There was, however, enough and to spare. I placed my bottle upon the ground, raised the cask, and tipped it so that the bottle would fill. The position of the keg was awkward, and I lost much of the liquor. Some large bees flew near and settled on the stones wet with the rum. The air was filled with the odour which they had noticed almost as soon as I had. I laid the keg down, bringing the bung right side up, and, having no stopper, I proceeded to fill the opening with leaves. These I gathered in handfuls, and stuffed them into the orifice. The mass that I squeezed together in my hand was not large enough to fill the hole, and the leaves fell inside the keg. This happened twice or more, but finally I seized a double handful and forced them into the bunghole, and pressed them compactly down. This time I was successful; then I took up the cup of water, and proceeded upon my way back to our refuge.
I still heard distant shouts, and the sound of an occasional shot from a gun. There were voices from the water, as well as from the land. I wondered what new danger threatened us. When I got opposite the tree where Cynthia and her Uncle were concealed, I set the cup and the bottle upon the ground, and, crouching down,I stole toward the line of the beach. I passed from tree to tree with great care. Finally I reached a vantage point where I could survey all the actors in the drama.
The first thing I discovered was that our two boats were a hundred yards or so out on the waters of the bay, and that the foremost one only was occupied. The dinghy was being towed behind the long boat. There were two persons in the boat, and, as I shaded my eyes from the rays of the setting sun, which struck obliquely down the long beach, I managed to make out the Bo's'n and the Minion. The Bo's'n was paddling slowly along with an easy motion, which did not seem to argue at all that he had any intention of leaving the island, and the Minion was standing up in the stern sheets and executing what we should call nowadays a double shuffle or a breakdown. He made derisive motions toward those on shore, whistled and laughed unrestrainedly, patted his legs as we would if calling a dog, and, in fact, was so outrageous in his insults that he had worked the men into a perfect frenzy. I truly think that his life would not have been worth a moment's purchase had the sailors on shore been able to lay hands on him. The Haïtiens were nowhere to be seen, and of the sailors there remained but nine. Whether some of the men had pursued the Haïtiens or whether they had been killed, I could not determine. I saw that Bill Tomkins, the acknowledged leader of the men, had the young girl in his possession. The cords were still around her wrists; the other ends he had twisted round his hand, as one holds the reins in driving a frisky horse. The girl had her hands over her eyes, and was weaving back and forth, as if in great agony of mind. If we had had the Bo's'n and Minion on our side, we might have attacked the sailors and rescued the girl. But the men were just enough inflamed with liquor to care nothing for the authority of either Captain Schuyler or myself, and I thought it more prudent towait a little and see what resulted. For, terrible as it was to see that young girl in the clutches of those rough men, it would be death to us three to have them obtain possession of Cynthia.
I now saw that the men, with fists shaking in air, and uttering bitter and profane imprecations at the Bo's'n and the Minion, had turned their heads our way again. I retreated hastily, and picked up my bottle and the cup of water. I had hardly reached the hollow tree when I heard the sound of running footsteps, and just as I got safely inside they rushed past us, Bill Tomkins pulling the young captive after him. The poor child was forced to run with him, or to be dragged along the beach.
The sailors ran straight for the mango tree, whooping and hallooing as they came. Tomkins tied the cords which he held in his hand to a stout limb, thus fettering his captive, and then, with his comrades, proceeded to search the thicket. I knew at once for what they were searching.
I heard some reference to "the old man," which I understood, of course. When they spoke of "the popinjay," I was at a loss to comprehend to whom they referred. Bill Tomkins seemed to take charge and give orders. He remained close to the tree and near his captive. There was blood upon his hands and clothes, and upon the young girl's skirt. The girl leaned against the tree in the most abject state of misery and fear. Each time that Tomkins moved she raised her large eyes to his in a frightened, imploring manner, as if begging for mercy.
"Imustgo and rescue that child!" whispered Cynthia to me in fierce tones. I seized her wrists and held her in a viselike grasp.
"You will do nothing of the kind," I whispered back. "We should be at the mercy of those ruffians. Wait until the case gets desperate. They may mean to liberate her themselves."
The men had always been fairly good sailors on board ship, and had been respectful to the officers during the voyage, but the enemy that a man takes into his mouth to steal away his brains had made them fiends. They ran about in a sort of frenzy, looking for the keg, uttering wild oaths and imprecations against the Skipper and that "blanked popinjay," whom I was finally forced to mentally acknowledge was myself. I could see no way out of the difficulty. I hoped that they would resume their march along the coast, and yet I did not purpose that they should take the young girl with them. I thought that should they discover the keg, no bounds would be placed upon the excesses which they might commit.
We watched them with anxiety through our vantage holes, and at last, just when we hoped that they had missed the keg, some one stumbled exactly upon it. My heart fell with a thump like lead as I heard Hummocks's foot strike against the hoop. A shout of joy went up from the men which made me heartsick. Even Tomkins left his captive and joined the others. They threw themselves upon the ground one and all, and struggled like wild men for the first draught of the madly desired liquor. Blows began to rain down, and pistols and machetes were drawn. I began to hope that they would kill, or at least maim each other sufficiently to allow of our capturing them with the aid of the Bo's'n and the Minion. But Tomkins, seeing how things were going, interposed. He called a halt in an authoritative tone of voice.
"Belay there, boys!" he cried; "let's be fair. What do you say to drawing lots?" He stooped and picked some blades of grass, and broke them in different lengths.
"Somebody's got to drink first. You can't all drink to onct." As he spoke he arranged the blades between his fingers so that they appeared the same length. The men stopped quarrelling and faced Tomkins.
"Shortest drinks first," said he. "Step up, Growls, and take a chance."
Growls drew a short blade, Hummocks a shorter, Bill Ware a very short one, and, at last, the longest of all was left in Tomkins's hand. The men crowded close together with an eagerness which should have been inspired by a more worthy motive.
"It's Bill Ware," said Tomkins; and, without wasting time unnecessarily, Bill Ware plumped himself upon the ground, his mouth to the bunghole. Tomkins held a battered old watch in his hand, and kept his eyes fixed upon the second hand.
"Ten seconds apiece," said Tomkins. "Time!" he cried suddenly. Bill Ware had almost to be dragged from the keg by sheer force.
"You, Hummocks!" said Tomkins and the scene was repeated. The thirsty crew had even a harder tussle to pull Hummocks from the keg than they had with Bill Ware, Ware himself tugging at Hummocks's legs, while the rest endeavoured to unclasp his arms from the keg.
"My turn," muttered Growls, in that tone which had procured him his name. "Time me, boys, but time me fair."
"That cask's gettin' light," remarked Tomkins in an anxious tone of voice.
"It's just like a play," whispered Cynthia. "I never saw a play but once. Aunt Mary 'Zekel thinks it's wicked. It was a more refined play than this, but I consider this all very interesting."
"What about the girl?" asked I.
"I have not forgotten her," said Cynthia. "I am hoping that those brutes will fall asleep; then I can go out and rescue her."
"What, from those honest sailors?" I asked. I could not resist it.
For some time I had been conscious of a distinctburning sensation in the palms of my hands. I could not account for it except that I had had my hands in salt water a great deal during the day, and, as we had been unprotected from the sun much of the time, I thought that the combination had affected them unpleasantly. However, no one had complained, and Cynthia's skin was certainly much more tender than mine. My palms itched incessantly, and when I rubbed them to quiet this unpleasant sensation, the skin suddenly puffed up and my wrists pained me intensely. My fingers swelled, and the pains shot up to my shoulders. I bore it without a word, hoping that it would soon abate. I would not have had Cynthia hear me complain for the entire world. I had been obliged to play the part of coward in her estimation too often during the last few hours to wish her to see another exhibition of that attribute from me. So when she whispered to me to pick up the blanket which had been trodden under foot, I seized the rough thing and handed it to her, though its contact seemed to scorch my flesh like living coals.
I had fancied that the men might drink themselves into a state of insensibility, but I did not dream that this condition would overcome them so speedily. In a very few moments after they had taken each one his allotted amount of the rum, each man had rolled over on the grass and laid there like a log—all but Tomkins, who was the last, according to lot, to be served. When he found that there was very little of the liquor remaining for him, he swore frightful oaths, and used such language as would have precipitated a general quarrel had not the rum taken an almost immediate effect upon those who had drank of it. His vile epithets fell upon unheeding ears so far as his mates were concerned, and, in fact, in a very few moments he, too, was breathing heavily.
"I never did a kind action in my whole blamed life," snarled Tomkins, "but what I got my come-uppance,"and I must say that, painful as is the reflection, I have noticed much the same circumstance in my dealings with my fellow-men.
Before Tomkins had ended his grumblings his utterance became thick, and he followed his comrades to the borderland of death.
"Do you think they're asleep?" whispered Cynthia softly in my ear. Eleven distinct and stertorous snores answered her more plainly than any assurances of mine could have done, and a twelfth, from the interior of our tree, chorussed them and made the round dozen.
"Poor dear Uncle Tony! I had forgotten all about him. I remember now that he has not spoken for some time," said Cynthia in her gentlest voice.
She felt for her pillow and then for the old man's head. "Strike a light, Mr. Jones," she added, more kindly than she had spoken hitherto. I did as she requested, repeatedly striking my fire until she had made the unconscious Skipper comfortable. When this was accomplished we stepped outside. Although the sun was getting low, I found it difficult to face the glare and the heat after the darkness and cool seclusion of our hiding place.
The young captive was still endeavouring to pull her hands loose from the cords. They were black and swollen. I say black, for, though the girl was a Haïtien, she evidently had a mixture of French blood in her veins, being much lighter coloured than the men in whose custody we first discovered her. I thought that should she smile and her face recover from the storm of grief which had swept across it for the last half hour, she would be very pretty. She had soft, large eyes like a deer's, but they were swollen with crying, and her face was drawn with pain.
Cynthia emerged from the tree just after me. The girl, hearing the roll of a stone upon which I stepped, turned in a terrified way and confronted us. It wasnot to be wondered at that she should be horrified at seeing two persons whom she had not seen before, appear upon the now quiet scene. She raised her manacled arms to heaven and shrieked as if for aid, then threw herself upon the beach, and screamed and beat her head against the ground.
The education of this child had taught her to fear the mysterious, and when the beautiful white girl emerged like a hamadryad from a tree in the depths of the forest, the child imagined her an avenging angel. What vengeance she intended to take upon a young girl of such tender years the girl herself had not knowledge enough to imagine. Later developments taught us what she had feared.
The poor child continued to wail and beat her head against the ground. I glanced at Cynthia. Her lovely eyes were dimmed with tears. At once she became all gentleness, all tenderness. She approached the girl slowly, as she would a frightened bird, holding out her hand and making soft, cooing noises. As she drew near, the girl shrank behind the tree, peering out with terrified eyes at this strange apparition. Cynthia continued to advance, still making those sweet sounds. The prisoner trembled in every limb, and drew away as far as the cords would allow. She looked wildly over her shoulder, as if longing to escape. Cynthia came nearer, and put out her hand. She laid it gently on the girl's shoulder, when the young savage twisted her head suddenly and with a snap like that of a wild beast buried her teeth in the tender flesh. A blow from my hand laid her sprawling. Cynthia turned angrily on me, forgetful of her own pain.
"Don't you dare to interfere with me!" she said angrily. "I shall never get her confidence now."
The Haïtienne lay where I had thrown her, and watched our movements with glittering eyes. Cynthia took me by the shoulder and marched me off to the hollow trunk, where the Skipper lay snoring his antiphonal response to the louder snores of the sailors. Then Cynthia returned to the attack of kindness and humanity.
The prisoner, seeing that I was quite gone, and that it was Cynthia's wish that I should be gone, lay looking at her as she again approached her. This time Cynthia knelt upon the ground, and, seemingly without fear, she stretched out her hand and gently stroked the captive's head. The girl did not renew her attack upon Cynthia, but suffered her to stroke her head and coo and murmur over her.
"Bring me some water, Mr. Jones!" Cynthia ordered.
I stretched my hand inside the tree and felt for the cup; then I ran to the place where we had left the breaker of water. I drew some and carried it to Cynthia. She took it from me, saying at the same time:
"What is the matter with your hand?"
"Don't mind me!" I said shortly. By this time my fingers were puffed out of all semblance to their original shape, and when I endeavoured to move them the pain was intense.
Cynthia put the cup to the girl's lips. She shook her head and closed her lips tightly together. Then Cynthia drank a little of the water, and again held it toward the girl. This time she drained the water eagerly and to the last drop.
"Some more!" demanded Cynthia, holding out the cup to me. When I had replenished it, Cynthia took her handkerchief from her pocket, dipped it in the water, and bathed the girl's face and hands, whereupon the prisoner drew a long sigh of satisfaction.
"Bring me your knife, Mr. Jones," ordered Cynthia.
"If you free her, she will run away," protested I.
"Bring it at once!" responded Cynthia.
It was with difficulty that I opened the blade with my swollen fingers, but, after slipping the lanyard overmy head, I managed to do so. Then I walked with the open knife toward the pair. When the captive saw me coming she began to cry and scream and roll on the ground in an agony of terror.
Bill Tomkins heard the cry, and turned over in his sleep, opened his eyes a crack or so, asked how the weather was, and went off again into a profound slumber. I argued that if he who had drank so little of the rum was thus stupefied, the others would not awake for many hours.
"Lay your knife within reach and go away again, Mr. Jones," said Cynthia.
I obeyed, as I was willing to obey her every word and gesture.
As Cynthia took the knife up from the stone where I had laid it, the girl sobbed and wailed and clutched at the grass.
"Go away," said Cynthia; "quite away."
I did as I was bid, and sat again at the foot of our sheltering tree. Then Cynthia, with motions and signs that she did not intend to injure her, drew near the captive, and, taking her unawares and with dexterous movement, inserted the point of the knife under first one and then the other of the cords, and the captive was free. The girl looked up in a dazed sort of surprise. Cynthia smiled down on her as only the angels in heaven smile. Then she again dipped the handkerchief in water and again cared for the swollen hands. The girl ceased her crying, knelt down and laid a caressing cheek on Cynthia's feet, then sprang up and ran into the forest.
"You have seen the last of her," said I.
Perhaps I was a little jealous of this new favourite.
"If I have, you are to blame," said Cynthia, "and I shall never forgive you."
But I had prophesied falsely, for the child came back to us in a moment with her hands full of leaves. Shegave them to Cynthia, and by signs persuaded her to bind them on her own hands and wrists.
The girl then stood up and beckoned to Cynthia to follow her into the wood. They walked together a few steps. Then she stopped and pointed to a strange arrow-shaped leaf. She shook her head and held up her hands as if in horror, and displayed various signs of fear. I noticed from where I stood the leaves to which she pointed. They were the same kind with which I stopped the bunghole in the keg.
"The Skipper did not need the arsenic," I muttered to myself as I surveyed the sleeping men.
I went inside the tree and awoke the Skipper. He turned over drowsily at first, and asked how we were heading, and if she was off her course. I shook him pretty roughly then, and he asked me how many bells.
I answered, and truly, that it was four bells, and the dog watch. Dog's watch, I might have said; I had certainly had one. I then hurriedly explained the situation to the Skipper.
"Captain Schuyler," I said, "I think we had better get away from here before these wretches wake up. There is no knowing what they may do. They may wake up sober and they may wake up drunk. They may possibly awake in a pleasant and friendly state of mind, but it's my opinion that they will be pretty vicious when they find the rum all gone and also that I have liberated that young girl."
"What young girl?" asked the Skipper.
"The young girl they rescued from the Haïtiens."
"What Haïtiens?" asked the Skipper.
I saw that it was no use to consult the Skipper; he was hardly awake, and could not yet comprehend what had happened during the last hour. I left him with Cynthia, to do what he could toward gathering up the articles hidden in the bushes, and ran down to the beach. I saw that the two boats were farther outthan they had been, and, when I put my hands to my mouth and shouted my loudest to the Bo's'n, I could but just make him hear. He and the boy laid to their oars with a will, but I soon perceived that they were making little progress. I saw the Bo's'n drop his oars, stand up in the boat and gaze around him, and, as there was no one but the Minion to help him row, it was plain that he could not overcome the current, which I now saw was taking the boats out to sea. I saw the Bo's'n take a sight on shore and watch it for a moment, like a true sailor; then he shook his head, stepped to the stern, and, drawing the boats close together, he cut the painter short off at the bows and set the dinghy adrift. I was sorry to see this, but I knew that unless it was done we should lose both boats, and the Bo's'n and boy as well. Then the Bo's'n sat down and began to pull with vigorous strokes, and soon the boat was quite near the shore.
"Beg your pardon, sir, Mr. Jones, but where's them crew?"
I pointed over my shoulder, and made him understand that they were incapable of injuring us. He did not ask how this had come about, but pulled up to the beach. I saw that the boy was rowing with one hand; the other was bound up with a piece of cloth, and was bleeding a little, the result, probably, of the defiance which I had witnessed. The Bo's'n had torn away a part of his shirt sleeve to bind up the boy's hand. This, I thought, argued well for us. I had fancied that I could trust the other men, and how mistaken I had been! This kind trait, however, in a man on whom we must depend more or less, gave me courage.
"Where are those Haïtiens?" I asked.
"Dead, sir, as far's I know."
"Where is Wilson?"
"Saw him fall—and Tanby, too. Guess they're all down the beach there together."
I did not investigate. We had no time. It wasgrowing late, and I wished to get away before the men should awaken. I hurried my little party together. They ran into the bushes, one and all, picking up and carrying what they could. Captain Schuyler and the Bo's'n rolled the keg of pork and the breaker down to the water's edge; the boy held the boat while we deposited our few belongings therein.
"If you'll take the bag, I'll carry the parrot," said Cynthia.
I lifted the mortuary receptacle from its hiding place among the leaves.
"Why, just look at that crab!" said Cynthia. "That's a very good discovery. If we can find crabs, we'll——"
I seized her by the arm, with horror, no doubt, in my look. I pushed her roughly toward the beach.
"Run," I said, "for God's sake!"
"How rough you are!" said Cynthia; but she ran a little way, as I impelled and commanded. I hastily set the parrot's cage on the ground and drew my pistol, and, difficult as it was, I pulled the trigger. I aimed straight at the black, hairy thing; but my bullet missed, and I seized up the cage, preparing for flight, when I saw the animal turn to crawl sluggishly away. I looked with astonishment at this movement of the tarantula, for it was that dread scourge of the tropic forest that Cynthia had taken for a crab. I saw that it was moving from the spot where the rum had been spilled, and found in its low and halting pace additional reason to believe that the liquor which I had sought to protect with the leaves from evaporation I had unconsciously drugged, perhaps poisoned. There was nothing to do. I had no remedies, and such men, I argued, are better off, or rather we are better off with them dead than alive. I took a second shot at the tarantula, and this time I was successful. I had shot it through the body. The body was as large as an egg, the legs long and hairy, and the proboscis curved, pointed, and vicious-looking. Cynthia'shurried departure had left me to carry the bag and the parrot. My hands were extremely sore, and, somehow or other, as I lifted the cage I swung it against a rock. The catch was loosened, the bottom fell out. In my nervousness I dropped the cage, and before I knew it I heard a voice over my head, saying, "There's no fool like an old fool!"
Here was a nice mess! Cynthia's parrot gone! The pride of her heart sitting over my head in a tropic wood, where he could fly away, if he wanted to, hundreds of miles, and always find a resting place.
"Why don't you come, Mr. Jones?" It was Cynthia's voice.
I hastily picked up the cloth which always went with the cage, and which had covered the bird on its voyage ashore, threw it over the wire top, and covered the cage. I refastened the catch, and came stumbling down to the beach with my two burdens.
"Miss Archer, you had better sit in the stern," said I, as I proceeded to place the cage in the bow.
"I prefer the bow, thank you," said Cynthia.
I waded out in the water and set the cage in the stern sheets. At this Cynthia began to climb over the seats. She reached the stern just as I removed the cage and waded with it back to the bow. At this Cynthia stood up, preparing to move again.
"Sit down, Cynthy; you can't crawl over me."
"But, Uncle Tony, I want to hold Solomon," said Cynthia. "He gets so frightened without me."
"He won't this time," I said. "Besides, the yellow girl will have to come in here." We had left the stranger on the beach purposely until the last. She watched our preparations with interest, crouching on the beach, staring at every movement of Cynthia's, and occasionally turning a look of horror in the direction of the men. When she was sure that Cynthia was seated in the boat, and that she had no intention of returning, the girlstretched out her arms and said something which we could not understand. Without more ado I took her up from the beach and placed her beside Cynthia. A flock of parrots had settled in the mango tree, and Cynthia looked at them with interest. I pushed the boat from shore and jumped in. As I did so I heard from the tree the words, "Damn those Britishers!"
"How far off that sounds, Mr. Jones! Was that Solomon?"
"I think it was, undoubtedly," said I.
"It sounded up in that tree. Do you think that perhaps while we were in hiding some wild parrots have come around and learned to speak as he does?"
"It is barely possible," said I. "Now, Bo's'n, look out there; what are you doing? We don't want to run ashore too soon."
"Are we putting out to sea in an open boat, Uncle?"
"Ask Jones," growled the Skipper. "He seems to be the captain of this expedition."
I saw that the old man's feelings were hurt because I had not consulted him, but there had not been time. I felt that the party must obey my orders first and protest afterward.
"I only want to run back along the beach a mile or so," I said, "to get away from the crew. The chances are that they'll think that we have tried to get to Cap Haïtien and follow along the coast; but from what I heard at Santo Domingo of Christophe's latest didos, I don't believe we want to go to Cap Haïtien just now."
"Why, Mr. Jones! And you let the men go! They might all have been killed!"
"Just what I was hoping for," said I. "A little more lively with those oars, Bo's'n; it's growing dark."
"How quiet Solomon is!" said Cynthia. Just then there came the distant words, "No fool like an old fool."
"It certainly is among those parrots there," said the Skipper.
"Yes, I think it is," said I.
"I never heard of wild birds learning to talk so soon," said Cynthia. "I don't believe you will get any one to believe it at home."
"Neither do I," said I.
The night had come down upon us suddenly, but there was a fine line of light in the east, which betokened an early moonrise. As we looked out to sea, we could still perceive a faint glow round the wreck through the haze which overspread the water in that direction, but of other ships we saw none. We had forgotten about the fight between the pirate and the American while watching the fight on shore, and whatever had happened there was no one to tell us. I had hoped that the American would have sunk the pirate, and then we could have pushed out to him in our boats and gone home in one of our own bottoms, but the two vessels had vanished as completely as if they had never existed. It has seemed to me since that the privateer, as we called him, had tried to run away, and the American in chasing him had been led either very far out to sea or else round some point which hid them both from view. And now the moon, which had arisen many hours earlier, flooded the world. Its light came across the water a beam of silver. Our boat seemed always in its rays. This worried me somewhat, as I felt that we must be silhouetted against the eastern glow, and that any one on shore with hostile intent could follow us to our hiding place by simply walking along the beach. We kept rather close in shore on this account. When we had rowed about a mile and a half, we came to a little indentation, which I thought betokened the presence of a stream or rivulet from the hills.
"What do you think of this place for a landing, Captain?" asked I.
"This isn't my expedition," said the Skipper surlily. I wasted no words in explanation. I ordered the Bo's'n to pull for the beach, and we were soon ashore.
It was a pretty place, this, at which we had landed; an ideal one, I have thought since, for a modern picnic, but God forbid that any of the young women of the present day should have to go through what we had suffered, and what was to come, for the sake of finding so pleasant a picnic ground. We rowed the boat directly into the small inlet, and the Bo's'n, the Skipper, and I hauled her up a little way on the shelving beach. It was hard to know just what was best to do—whether to prepare for a land flight or for a sea flight. We took the stores out of the boat, but laid them near it, so that we could replace them at a moment's notice. We dared not build a fire, as the strange vessel might return, so eating some hard bread and drinking some water had to content us. We laid the blanket upon the ground and the pillow at its head. I motioned to Cynthia to take her position there. She beckoned to the girl, who laid down by her. The Skipper stretched himself at Cynthia's feet, and the Bo's'n, the Minion, and I removed ourselves to a spot at a little distance.
I laid awake the early part of the night, partly because I was anxious and worried, and partly because I was suffering a good deal from what I now felt sure was poison. If my simply touching those leaves had had that effect, I wondered what would be the result to the men of the Yankee's crew. I laid on my back, looking up into the sky. The moon had set, the heavens were deep and dark, but studded with stars. The Southern Cross stood out beautiful and brilliant. I had seen it so many times when cruising in these waters, and here it was again to welcome me as an old friend. Strange how one feels a personal right to, almost ownership of, these splendid works of God when again one meets them after a long or short separation. A swelling comes upin the heart and a pride in seeing again the thing which one has known for years, but which, so sad and persistent is fate, ignores us in return, unknown atoms that we are!
It must have been much after midnight. I had dropped off into an uneasy slumber, when suddenly I was awakened by the sound of a stealthy footstep. A pebble rattled against another pebble; I raised myself upon my elbow. The stars were obscured by heavy black clouds, which had arisen after we had settled ourselves for the night. I saw nothing unusual among us. I could dimly distinguish some recumbent forms, and could trace the spot where Cynthia and the stranger had laid themselves down. The Skipper, if one could judge from the sounds, was enjoying his first sleep hugely. I have never seen a being with such a capacity for sleep. I did not disturb the old man, but turned quietly and raised myself to my feet. I looked in all directions, but there was nothing to be seen. I walked on tiptoe to where the Skipper snored and dreamed probably of his lost Yankee Blade. I could dimly see one sleeping form, and from the position in which it lay I felt sure that it was Cynthia. The rescued girl was nowhere to be seen. I returned to my sleeping place and laid myself down again and watched, lifting my head occasionally and scanning the edge of the wood and the near hill. Finally my search was rewarded by seeing two forms come out from behind a clump of trees and stand a moment in earnest conversation. Then one of the figures vanished from sight, and the other came without noise toward the camp. As it passed me by, I recognised the form and height of the young Haïtien girl. She stepped lightly and quickly, making no noise as she went, and laid down again by Cynthia without disturbing her.
We were all awake early. When I opened my eyes I found that both Cynthia and the girl were absent. In a few moments, however, they came toward us, Cynthia fresh and smiling from her bath in the stream. Onecould follow this stream a hundred yards up toward the hills, and the bushes drooped, so that they made for the bather a perfect screen. The Haïtien girl followed in Cynthia's footsteps, like a devoted and faithful animal. The rest which she had obtained made her look almost handsome, and she had evidently imitated Cynthia in bathing and in arranging her hair.
Cynthia had in her hand a large bunch of stems and flowers, behind which her head was nearly hidden.
"Do I look like Birnam Wood?" she called as she came toward us.
"Throw those down, I beg of you, Miss Archer," I shouted, "if you don't want your hands to look as mine do. It is most dangerous to pick flowers in any woods, and here——"
Cynthia continued arranging her flowers.
"You should let Lacelle show you where to get that remedy which she gathered for herself yesterday," said she.
Lacelle seemed to understand, for the moment that Cynthia called her attention to my swollen hands she ran hastily toward the bank. Again I urged, "Do throw away those flowers." Cynthia at my request flung them on the beach. As they fell, a strange metallic sound struck upon our ears.
"I have thrown something away with them," said Cynthia. "What can it be? I have no rings or jewellery. Can it be my scissors or my thimble?" But a search of the interior of the little bag depending from her belt disclosed the fact that she was still in possession of those useful articles. I stooped over the weeds and, as well as I could, pulled the bunch apart. I searched among its leaves. Upon the very central branch—a branch of thin wood with heavy green stems jutting out from either side—I discovered the cause of the strange sound. I found a large twisted circle of some dark metal, dull in some places, in others so bright that it hurt my eyes.The circle was made by the curving of the tail of a serpent, whose body formed the ring. Where the seal is usually placed there was the head of an animal. It looked like the head of a sheep or a lamb. There were no horns, but ears were there, and laid back viciously close to the head. The eyes were formed of strange red gems, which glittered wonderfully in the morning sun. They seemed to shoot forth rays of light, and as I looked into them I fancied that they gave back an answering gleam of intelligence. There was a barbaric splendour about the trinket which attracted while it repelled. I wonder how Cynthia could have broken the stem and not have seen the ring; but she said she was trying to keep her eye on the harbour, as she was convinced that shortly some ship would heave in sight, and she wished to be the first to see it. The strange trinket had evidently been dropped by its owner, and it had fallen circling just over the tender shoot of green. This sprout had grown into a stem, and the stem into a strong plant, and in growing had carried the bauble with it into the air.