Chapter Seventeen.

Chapter Seventeen.Bob wants to be rich.The problem as to the working of the gold mine being so far satisfactorily solved, it only remained to ascertain how the arrangements would answer when put into practice, and this the ladies did without loss of time. Their plan was that one of them should remain at home to look after Bob and little May, while the other two devoted a few hours of the day to the cave. As they took it in turns to remain at home in the capacity of nurse, each of them had two days in the cave to one at the cottage.In the meantime, thanks to Lance’s skill and the careful nursing of the ladies, Bob was making steady progress toward recovery, and within a month of the occurrence of his accident was beginning to ask how much longer he was going to be kept a prisoner.He had been made aware of the gold discovery, by occasional references to it on the part of the others in his presence, but he had never heard the complete story; so one day, when it was Blanche’s turn to remain at home, he asked her to give him the entire history; which she did.He listened most attentively; and when the story was over remained silent, apparently wrapped in profound thought, for several minutes.Looking up at last, with a flush of excitement on his face, he exclaimed—“Why, there must be gold enough there to make millionaires of every one of us!”“Yes,” said Blanche, “I believe there is; at least Lan— Mr Evelin says so, and I have no doubt he knows.”“Oh yes,” exclaimed Bob enthusiastically, “heknows. I believe he knowseverything. And what a splendid fellow he is, isn’t he, Miss Lascelles?”This last with a sly twinkle in his roguish eye.Blanche appeared to think it unnecessary to comment upon or reply to this remark; at all events she remained silent. But the window-curtain somehow needed adjustment just at that moment, and the haste with which she rose to attend to this little matter—or something else—caused a most lovely pink flush to overspread her cheeks. Bob saw it; perhaps he knew exactly what caused it; but if he did he was too much of a gentleman to show that he had noticed it. So when Blanche had adjusted the curtain to her satisfaction he remarked with a heavy sigh—“Oh dear! IwishI was well enough to be out and at work again. I long to have the handling of some of that gold.”“You must have patience, Robert,” said Blanche. “The worst part of your illness is now over, and in due time you will no doubt be able to take your share of the work once more. But whether such is the case or not, you may rest satisfied that you will have your share of the gold. Whatever there may be, whether it be much or little, I know the gentlemen have decided that it shall be divided equally among us, even to little May.”“I am sure it’s very kind of them,” said Bob with a touch of impatience in his tone; “but I want to be up and able to work at it—to gather it in and see it accumulate. I want to be a reallyrichman.”“For shame, Robert,” said Blanche, with just the faintest feeling of disgust—the first she had ever experienced toward Bob. “If you talk like that I shall leave you. I am disappointed in you; I shouldneverhave suspectedyouof being mercenary.”“Well, I am then,” returned Bob, quite unabashed. “Iammercenary, if that means being anxious to be rich. And so would you be, Miss Lascelles, if you had seen as much misery as I have; misery, too, which could be cured by the judicious expenditure of comparatively trifling sums of money. Only think how jolly it would be to go up to every poor hungry man, woman, and child you met, clap a sovereign in their hands, and say, ‘There, go and enjoy the luxury of a good unstinted meal for once in your life.’ But a rich man’s power goes a great deal further than that. If everIam rich I shall not be satisfied with the bestowal of relief of such a very temporary kind as a solitary meal amounts to; I shall hunt up some really deserving cases and put them in the way of earning their own livings.Realrelief consists, to my mind, of nothing short of the stretching out of a helping hand and lifting some poor soul clean out of that miserable state where one’s very existence depends upon the fluctuating charity of one’s fellow-creatures. I’veseenit, and I know what it means. There’s any amount of real misery to be met with in the neighbourhood of the Docks, ay, and all over London, for that matter, if one only chooses to keep one’s eyes open. Of course I know that many of the beggars and match-sellers, and people of that kind are rank loafers, too idle to work even when they have the chance—people who spend in drink every penny that’s given them—and in my opinion they richly deserve all the misery they suffer. But there are plenty of others who would be only too happy to work if they could; andtheyare the people I should seek out and help, the poor women and children, you know. It makes me fairly sick, I give you my word, Miss Lascelles, when I think of the vast sums of money that are squandered every year in ways which leave nothing to show for the expenditure. Take gambling for instance. I’ve heard that thousands of pounds are lost every year at card-playing and horse-racing. The money only changes hands, I know; but what good does it do? If a man can afford to part with a thousand pounds in such a way, how much better it would be for him and everybody else if he would expend it in furnishing a certain number of persons with the means to earn their own living. I don’t believe it’srightfor people to squander and waste their money; I believe that money is given to peoplein trust, and that everybody will have to answer for the way in which they discharge that trust; don’t you, Miss Lascelles?”“Certainly I do, Robert,” answered Blanche, very gravely. “But I must admit that I have never until now viewed the matter in the serious light in which you put it. I must beg your pardon, and I do most sincerely, for the way in which I spoke to you just now. I had no idea that you had any such good reasons as you have given for desiring to be rich. But what would you be able to do single-handed, no matter how rich you might be?”“Ah!” ejaculated Bob with a gesture of impatience, “that’s just whateverybodysays, and that’s exactly where the mischief lies; they don’t do anything because they can’t doeverything, and because they can’t get others to join them. But I shouldn’t look at it like that; I should just do my duty, whether other people did theirs or not; if others choose to shirk their duty it is their own look-out, it affords no excuse for me to shirk mine. But there—it’s no use for me to talk like this; perhaps I never shall be rich; the gold is there, you say; but that is a very different thing from having it banked in England. How do they think we are going to get it away from the island without discovery? You may depend upon it that, whenever we go, it will be all in a hurry.”Blanche explained Captain Staunton’s plan as to the carrying off of the gold; but Bob shook his head dubiously.“It is a capital plan, I admit,” he said, “but its success depends upon everything turning out exactly as arranged, and—you mark my words—thingswon’tturn out that way at all; they never do. Will you do me a favour, Miss Lascelles?”“Certainly I will, Robert, provided of course that it is in my power,” answered Blanche.“Thank you,” said Bob. “You can do it easily enough. Bring home here—and get the other ladies to do the same—every day when you return from the cavern, as many nuggets as you can conveniently carry—say two or three pounds’ weight each of you, you know—and hand them over to me. I’ll contrive to find a safe hiding-place for them, and when the moment comes for us to be off I’ll see that they go with us if such a thing is at all possible; then we shall not be quite destitute if after all we have to leave the heap in the cave behind us. But don’t say anything about this to the gentlemen; Captain Staunton might not like it if he heard that I doubted the practicability of his plan.”Blanche readily gave the desired promise, and there the matter ended for the time.Meanwhile the work went steadily forward at the shipyard, and by the time that Bob was once more able to go on duty the framework of the schooner was complete, and the planking had been begun, whilst the battery was in so forward a state that another fortnight would see it ready to receive the guns. Ralli was in a high state of delight; but Bob had not been at work many days before he discovered that things were no longer as they had been when he received his hurt. The Greek had never been courteous in his behaviour to theGalateaparty, but now he was downright insolent, and his insolence seemed to increase every day. At the outset of the work the gentlemen of the party, that is to say, Captain Staunton, Lance, and Rex, had been required to look on and direct the progress of the work only, but now Lance was the only one to whom this privilege was granted, a privilege which he scorned to accept unshared by the others, and accordingly when Bob once more joined the working party he found his friends with their coats off and sleeves rolled up to the shoulders performing the same manual labour as the rest. Seeing this, he of course did the same, and thus they all continued to work until—the end came.Bob was greatly surprised at this state of things; so much so that he sought an early opportunity to inquire of Lance the meaning of it. Neither Lance nor anyone else in the party were, however, able to give any explanation of it; all they could say with regard to the affair was that Ralli had been gradually growing more insolent and tyrannical in his treatment of them until matters had reached the then existing unpleasant stage. But he was earnestly cautioned by Captain Staunton not to mention a word respecting it to the ladies, as it was extremely desirable that they should be kept for as long a time as possible quite free from all anxiety of every kind.“But can nothing be done to make this fellow mend his behaviour?” inquired Bob of the skipper as they separated from the rest of the working party and walked toward the cottage on landing from the boats that night.“I fear not,” was the reply. “While the schooner and the battery were still to be built we had the man to some extent in our power; but now that the battery is so near completion, and the hull of the schooner fully modelled, he is independent of us, and he has sense enough to know it. His own people are quite capable of finishing off the schooner now that her framework is complete, so that threats on our part would be useless—nay, worse than useless—since they would only irritate him and lead to increasing severity toward us.”Bob lay awake a long time that night, quite satisfied that the time had arrived when something ought to be done, but what that something should be he puzzled his brain in vain to discover.About a fortnight after this a serious accident occurred at the shipyard, or rather at the battery. This structure was now so far advanced that it was ready to receive the guns which were intended to be mounted in it. The armament was to consist of six 24-pounder iron muzzle-loaders of the ordinary old-fashioned type, to which Johnson had helped himself in some raid on the Spanish-American coast; and on the morning in question a gang of men was told off to hoist these guns up the cliff into the battery.Lance had, as a matter of course, undertaken the supervision of this operation; but the work had hardly commenced when Ralli made his appearance on the scene, announcing his intention to himself direct operations at the battery, and roughly ordering Lance to return at once to his work on the schooner, “and to be quick about it too, or he (Ralli) would freshen his way.”Evelin of course returned at once to the shipyard without condescending to bandy words with the Greek, and the work went forward as usual.Ralli soon had a pair of sheers rigged, and in due time one of the guns was slung ready for hoisting.Lance had been watching Ralli’s operations, first with curiosity and afterwards with anxiety, for he soon saw that the man knew nothing whatever about handling heavy guns. He now saw that the gun which was about to be hoisted was wrongly slung, and that an accident was likely enough to result. So, forgetting his former rebuff, he threw down his tools and hurried to the place where the men were working about the gun and told them to cast off the slings.“You have slung it wrong, lads,” said he, “and unless you are very careful some of you will be hurt. Cast off the slings, and I will show you the proper way to do it.”The men, accustomed to working under his directions, were about to do as he bade them, when Ralli looked over the parapet and angrily ordered them to leave the lashings as they were and to sway away the gun.“As for you, mister soldier,” he said, shaking his fist at Lance, “you have left your work contrary to my orders, and I will seize you up to a grating and give you five dozen to-night as a lesson to you. Now go.”Lance turned on his heel and walked away. Things had come to a crisis at last, he thought; and he began to wonder how the crisis was to be met; upon one thing he was quite resolved, and that was that he would never submit to the indignity of the lash; Ralli might kill him if he chose, but flog him—never.His sombre meditations were brought to an abrupt ending by a sudden crash accompanied by a shout of consternation in the direction of the battery. Looking that way he saw the tackle dangling empty from the sheers, with the lower block about half-way up the cliff face, and at the base of the cliff were the men grouped closely together about some object which was hidden by their bodies. Suddenly one of the men left the rest and ran toward the shipyard, shouting for help.“There has been an accident,” thought Lance. “The gun has slipped from the slings, and likely enough somebody is killed.”“Muster all the crowbars and handspikes you can, lads,” said he, “and take them over to the battery; there has been an accident, I fear.”A strong relief gang was soon on the spot, only to find Lance’s fears confirmed. The gun had been hoisted nearly half-way up the cliff when the guide-rope had fouled a rock. The armourer had stepped forward to clear it, and in doing so had given it a jerk which had canted the gun in its slings, and before the unfortunate man had realised his danger the gun had slipped and fallen upon him, crushing both his legs to a jelly.There was an immediate outcry among the men for Lance, an outcry which Ralli would have checked if he could; but his first attempt to do so showed him that the men were now in a temper which would render it highly dangerous for him to persist, so he gave in with the best grace he could muster and ordered one of the men to fetch Evelin to the spot. On receiving the message Lance of course at once flung down his tools and hastened to the assistance of the injured man. When he reached the scene of the catastrophe he found all hands, Ralli included, crowded round the prostrate gun, and everybody giving orders at the same time, everybody excited, and everything in a state of the direst confusion.As he joined the group Ralli stepped forward with a smile on his lips, which in nowise cloaked his chagrin at being obliged to yield to the demands of the men, and began—“You see, mister soldier, we cannot do without you it seems, after all. Just lend the men a hand to—”But Lance brushed past him without deigning the slightest notice; and, pushing his way through the crowd, called upon a few of the men by name to assist him in relieving the unfortunate armourer from the ponderous weight of the gun, which still lay upon the poor fellow’s mangled limbs. Such implicit confidence had these men in him, prisoner among them though he was, that his mere presence sufficed to restore them to order; and in a few minutes the armourer, ghastly pale, and with every nerve quivering from the excruciating pain of his terrible injuries, was safely withdrawn from beneath the gun.“Now, make a stretcher, some of you—ah, Dickinson,youare the man for this job; just make a stretcher, my good fellow—the same sort of thing that you made for the lad Bob, you know—and let’s get our patient into a boat as quickly as possible; I can do nothing with him here,” said Lance.“Ay, ay, sir,” answered Dickinson promptly; and away he went with two or three more men to set about the work, Lance plying the injured man frequently with small doses of rum meanwhile.Ralli stood upon the outskirts of the crowd angrily watching the proceedings. He could not shut his eyes to the fact of Lance’s popularity with the men, and he vowed within himself that he would make him pay dearly for it before the day was done, even if he were compelled to seize him up and flog him himself.The stretcher was soon ready, and the armourer having been placed upon it, was carried as carefully as possible down to the boat. As the procession passed the shipyard Lance beckoned to Captain Staunton, saying—“I shall need your assistance in this case. It will be a case of amputation unless I am greatly mistaken, and if so, I shall require the help of someone upon whose nerve I can depend.”Captain Staunton, upon this, hurried back for his coat, and rejoined Lance just as the party was on the point of embarking in the boat. As the men propelled the craft swiftly across the bay Lance related in a loud tone to the skipper Ralli’s behaviour during the morning, and his threat. They were still discussing the matter anxiously together when Dickinson, who was pulling stroke-oar, and who doubtless guessed from catching a stray word or two what was the subject of their conversation, broke in upon their conference by inquiring of Lance whether he thought the armourer would recover.“It is impossible to say yet,” answered Lance cautiously. “Of course we shall do our best for him, poor fellow, but he will require more attention than I fear Ralli will allow me to give him.”“If that’s all,” remarked Dickinson, “I think you needn’t trouble yourself, sir; the Greek knows too well what he’s about to interfere with you when it comes to doctoring a hinjured man—a man as was hurt too all along of his own pride and obstinacy. And as to that other matter—the flogging, you know, sir—axing your pardon for speaking about it so plain, sir—don’t you trouble yourself about that. He sha’n’t lay a hand upon you while me and my mates can pervent it—shall he, mates?”“No, that he sha’n’t, bo’,” was the eager answer.“No, hesha’n’t,” coincided Dickinson. “We can’t do much to help you, you see, sir,” he added, “’cause, worse luck, we don’t all think alike upon some things; but we’ve only got to say the word to the rest of the hands, and Iknowsas they won’t hear of you bein’ flogged. There isn’t one of us but what respects you, sir, but what respects you gentlemen both, for that matter; you’ve always had a good word for everybody, and that goes a long way with sailors sometimes—further than a glass o’ grog—and you may make your mind easy that the Greek won’t be let to—to—you know what, sir.”“Thank you, Dickinson,” said Lance with outstretched hand, “thank you with all my heart. You have relieved me of a heavy load of anxiety; for, to tell you the truth, I had quite made up my mind not to submit to the indignity; and if Ralli attempts to carry out his threat it will probably lead to precipitate action on our part, which at the present time would be simply disastrous.”“So ’twould, sir; so ’twould,” agreed Dickinson. “You needn’t say another word, sir;weunderstands. Only we’d like you to know sir—and this here’s a very good opportunity for us to say it—that wheneverthe time comesyou may reckon upon all hands of us in this here boat.”“How do you mean?” ejaculated Lance, considerably startled. “I really do not understand you.”“Oh, it’s all right, sir,” returned Dickinson cheerfully. “We warn’t born yesterday, ne’er a one of us, and you don’t suppose as we believes you’ve all settled down to stay here for the rest of your nateral lives, do you? Lord bless you, sir,weknows you must have got some plan in your heads for getting away out of this here hole; and the long and the short of it is this:—When you’re ready to go, we’re ready to lend you a hand, perviding you’ll take us with you. We’re sick and tired of this here cursed pirating business; we wants to get away out of it; and we’ve been talking it over—me and my mates—and we’ve made up our minds that you’re sartain to be off one of these fine days, and we’d like to go with you, if you’ll have us. We want to give the world another trial, and see if we can’t end our days as honest men; ain’t that it, mates?”“Ay, ay, Bill; that’s it and no mistake; you’ve put it to the gentlemen just exactly as we wanted it; what you says, we’ll say, and whatever promises you makes we’ll keep ’em; we wants another chance, and we hopes that if so be as these here gen’lemen are thinking of topping their booms out of this they’ll just take us along with ’em,” replied the man who was pulling the bow-oar, the others also murmuring an assent.“But what makes you think we have an idea of effecting our escape? And how many others of you have the same opinion?” inquired Captain Staunton.“Well, I don’t know as I can rightly saywhatmakes us think so; but wedo,” answered Dickinson. “P’raps it’s because you’ve took things so quiet and cheerful like. As to how many more of us thinks the same as we do—why, I can’t say, I’m sure. I’ve only spoke about it to some half a dozen or so that Iknowedwould be glad of a chance to leave, like myself.”“Well,” said Captain Staunton after a pause, “I really do not think we can say anything to you, either one way or another, just now. What you have just said has been so utterly unexpected that we must have time to think and talk the matter over among ourselves; but I think we may perhaps be able to say something definite to you to-morrow in answer to your proposition. Don’t you think so, Evelin?”“I think so,” answered Lance.“Very well, then,” said the skipper. “Let the matter rest until to-morrow, and we will then tell you our decision. In the meantime it must be understood that none of you say a word to anyone else upon the subject until you have our permission.”A promise to this effect was readily given by each of the men, and then the matter dropped, the boat shortly afterwards reaching the landing-place at the bottom of the bay.The armourer was at once taken out of the boat and carried by Lance’s directions up to the building in which he slept. The miserable man was by this time in a dreadfully exhausted condition; but on the arrival of the medicine-chest Lance mixed him a powerful stimulating draught, under the influence of which he revived so much that Evelin felt himself justified in attempting the operation of amputation. This, with Captain Staunton’s assistance, was speedily and successfully performed; after which the patient was placed in his hammock, and Lance sat himself down near at hand, announcing his intention of watching by the poor fellow until next morning.The operation successfully performed, Dickinson and his three companions returned to the shipyard, maintaining an animated and anxious consultation on the way. The result of this consultation was that when the four men resumed work they had a great deal to say—after answering numberless anxious inquiries as to the state of the wounded man—upon the subject of Ralli’s treatment of Lance and his threat to flog him. They denounced this conduct as not only unjust but also impolitic to the last degree, dwelling strongly upon the unadvisability of offending a man so skilled as Lance in medicine and surgery, and impressing their audience with the necessity for discouraging—and, if necessary, interfering to prevent—the carrying out of the threat.And as sailors are very much like sheep—where one jumps the rest jump also—they had not much difficulty in arranging for a general demonstration of popular disapproval in the event of Ralli’s attempting the threatened indignity. Fortunately for himself—fortunately also in all probability for those in whom we are chiefly interested—he allowed the affair to pass over; in going about among the workers that day he overheard enough to feel assured that, for the moment at all events, he was an unpopular man, and as among such turbulent spirits as those with whom he had to deal, unpopularity means loss of power, his own common sense suggested to him the extreme impolicy of pitting himself against them while they continued in so antagonistic a mood. But he was quite resolved that if he could not have in one way what he called his “revenge,” he would have it in another; and from that day forward his insolence and tyranny of demeanour toward Lance and his friends grew more and more marked, until at length it became so unbearable that they were driven to the very verge of desperation.Meanwhile Lance, sitting there watching his patient, soon saw that he was about to have his hands full. The hectic flush of fever began to chase away the deadly pallor from the sufferer’s cheek; his eyes glittered and sparkled like coals of fire; and as feeling began to return to his hitherto benumbed limbs, and the smart of his recent operation made itself felt, he tossed restlessly in his hammock, tormented with an unquenchable thirst.“Water! water!” he muttered. “For the love of God give me water!”Lance gave him some in a tin pannikin. In an instant the vessel was glued to the unfortunate man’s lips, and in another instant it was drained to the last drop.“More—give me more,” he gasped, as soon as he had recovered his breath.But this Lance declined to do. Bidding the poor fellow be patient for a few minutes, he went to the medicine-chest and mixed him a cooling draught. This also was swallowed with avidity; and then the armourer lay quiet for a few minutes. Not for long, however; he soon began to toss restlessly about once more; and by the time that the hands returned from their day’s work at the shipyard he was in a raging fever—raving mad in fact; and Lance was at last compelled to have him laced up in his hammock to prevent him from doing himself a serious injury.Lance Evelin will probably remember that night as long as he lives. In the delirium of the fierce fever which consumed him the unhappy armourer was visited by visions of all the evil deeds of his past life; and Lance’s blood curdled in his veins as he listened to his patient’s disjointed ravings of murder, rapine, and cold-blooded cruelty of so revolting a character that he wondered how any human mind could conceive it in the first instance, and how, after it had been conceived, human hands could bring themselves to perpetrate it. And then the man’s guilty conscience awakened from its long torpor, and, acting upon his excited imagination, conjured up a thousand frightful punishments awaiting him. He writhed, he groaned, he uttered the most frightful curses, and then, in the same breath shrieked for forgiveness and mercy. It was perfectly appalling; even his comrades—those who had shared with him in the dreadful deeds about which he raved—found the scene too trying for their hardened and blunted feelings; and such of them as had their hammocks slung in the same dormitory abandoned them and slept in the open air rather than remain to have their souls harrowed by his dreadful utterances.This terrible state of things existed until the afternoon of the following day—rather more than twenty-four hours after he had received his injuries—and then the fever subsided, but only to leave the once powerful man in the last stage of exhaustion. So completely prostrate was he that he had no power to so much as lift his hand, and he was only able to speak in the merest whisper. Now was the time when all Lance’s skill was most urgently required. Fagged as he was by his long night of watching, he tended his patient with the most unremitting assiduity, administering tonics and stimulants every few minutes; and racking his brain for devices by which he might help the man to tide over this period of extreme prostration. But it was all of no avail; the poor fellow gradually sank into a state of stupor from which all Evelin’s skill was unable to arouse him; and at length, about eight o’clock in the evening, after a temporary revival during which all the terrors of death once more assailed him, his guilty soul passed away without opportunity for repentance; prayers and curses issuing from his lips in horrible confusion up to the last moment of his existence. His death was witnessed by several of his companions in crime; and, while some tried to laugh and scoff away the unwelcome impression which the scene produced upon their minds, there were others who went into the open air and wandered away by themselves to ponder upon this miserable ending of a crime-stained life.

The problem as to the working of the gold mine being so far satisfactorily solved, it only remained to ascertain how the arrangements would answer when put into practice, and this the ladies did without loss of time. Their plan was that one of them should remain at home to look after Bob and little May, while the other two devoted a few hours of the day to the cave. As they took it in turns to remain at home in the capacity of nurse, each of them had two days in the cave to one at the cottage.

In the meantime, thanks to Lance’s skill and the careful nursing of the ladies, Bob was making steady progress toward recovery, and within a month of the occurrence of his accident was beginning to ask how much longer he was going to be kept a prisoner.

He had been made aware of the gold discovery, by occasional references to it on the part of the others in his presence, but he had never heard the complete story; so one day, when it was Blanche’s turn to remain at home, he asked her to give him the entire history; which she did.

He listened most attentively; and when the story was over remained silent, apparently wrapped in profound thought, for several minutes.

Looking up at last, with a flush of excitement on his face, he exclaimed—

“Why, there must be gold enough there to make millionaires of every one of us!”

“Yes,” said Blanche, “I believe there is; at least Lan— Mr Evelin says so, and I have no doubt he knows.”

“Oh yes,” exclaimed Bob enthusiastically, “heknows. I believe he knowseverything. And what a splendid fellow he is, isn’t he, Miss Lascelles?”

This last with a sly twinkle in his roguish eye.

Blanche appeared to think it unnecessary to comment upon or reply to this remark; at all events she remained silent. But the window-curtain somehow needed adjustment just at that moment, and the haste with which she rose to attend to this little matter—or something else—caused a most lovely pink flush to overspread her cheeks. Bob saw it; perhaps he knew exactly what caused it; but if he did he was too much of a gentleman to show that he had noticed it. So when Blanche had adjusted the curtain to her satisfaction he remarked with a heavy sigh—

“Oh dear! IwishI was well enough to be out and at work again. I long to have the handling of some of that gold.”

“You must have patience, Robert,” said Blanche. “The worst part of your illness is now over, and in due time you will no doubt be able to take your share of the work once more. But whether such is the case or not, you may rest satisfied that you will have your share of the gold. Whatever there may be, whether it be much or little, I know the gentlemen have decided that it shall be divided equally among us, even to little May.”

“I am sure it’s very kind of them,” said Bob with a touch of impatience in his tone; “but I want to be up and able to work at it—to gather it in and see it accumulate. I want to be a reallyrichman.”

“For shame, Robert,” said Blanche, with just the faintest feeling of disgust—the first she had ever experienced toward Bob. “If you talk like that I shall leave you. I am disappointed in you; I shouldneverhave suspectedyouof being mercenary.”

“Well, I am then,” returned Bob, quite unabashed. “Iammercenary, if that means being anxious to be rich. And so would you be, Miss Lascelles, if you had seen as much misery as I have; misery, too, which could be cured by the judicious expenditure of comparatively trifling sums of money. Only think how jolly it would be to go up to every poor hungry man, woman, and child you met, clap a sovereign in their hands, and say, ‘There, go and enjoy the luxury of a good unstinted meal for once in your life.’ But a rich man’s power goes a great deal further than that. If everIam rich I shall not be satisfied with the bestowal of relief of such a very temporary kind as a solitary meal amounts to; I shall hunt up some really deserving cases and put them in the way of earning their own livings.Realrelief consists, to my mind, of nothing short of the stretching out of a helping hand and lifting some poor soul clean out of that miserable state where one’s very existence depends upon the fluctuating charity of one’s fellow-creatures. I’veseenit, and I know what it means. There’s any amount of real misery to be met with in the neighbourhood of the Docks, ay, and all over London, for that matter, if one only chooses to keep one’s eyes open. Of course I know that many of the beggars and match-sellers, and people of that kind are rank loafers, too idle to work even when they have the chance—people who spend in drink every penny that’s given them—and in my opinion they richly deserve all the misery they suffer. But there are plenty of others who would be only too happy to work if they could; andtheyare the people I should seek out and help, the poor women and children, you know. It makes me fairly sick, I give you my word, Miss Lascelles, when I think of the vast sums of money that are squandered every year in ways which leave nothing to show for the expenditure. Take gambling for instance. I’ve heard that thousands of pounds are lost every year at card-playing and horse-racing. The money only changes hands, I know; but what good does it do? If a man can afford to part with a thousand pounds in such a way, how much better it would be for him and everybody else if he would expend it in furnishing a certain number of persons with the means to earn their own living. I don’t believe it’srightfor people to squander and waste their money; I believe that money is given to peoplein trust, and that everybody will have to answer for the way in which they discharge that trust; don’t you, Miss Lascelles?”

“Certainly I do, Robert,” answered Blanche, very gravely. “But I must admit that I have never until now viewed the matter in the serious light in which you put it. I must beg your pardon, and I do most sincerely, for the way in which I spoke to you just now. I had no idea that you had any such good reasons as you have given for desiring to be rich. But what would you be able to do single-handed, no matter how rich you might be?”

“Ah!” ejaculated Bob with a gesture of impatience, “that’s just whateverybodysays, and that’s exactly where the mischief lies; they don’t do anything because they can’t doeverything, and because they can’t get others to join them. But I shouldn’t look at it like that; I should just do my duty, whether other people did theirs or not; if others choose to shirk their duty it is their own look-out, it affords no excuse for me to shirk mine. But there—it’s no use for me to talk like this; perhaps I never shall be rich; the gold is there, you say; but that is a very different thing from having it banked in England. How do they think we are going to get it away from the island without discovery? You may depend upon it that, whenever we go, it will be all in a hurry.”

Blanche explained Captain Staunton’s plan as to the carrying off of the gold; but Bob shook his head dubiously.

“It is a capital plan, I admit,” he said, “but its success depends upon everything turning out exactly as arranged, and—you mark my words—thingswon’tturn out that way at all; they never do. Will you do me a favour, Miss Lascelles?”

“Certainly I will, Robert, provided of course that it is in my power,” answered Blanche.

“Thank you,” said Bob. “You can do it easily enough. Bring home here—and get the other ladies to do the same—every day when you return from the cavern, as many nuggets as you can conveniently carry—say two or three pounds’ weight each of you, you know—and hand them over to me. I’ll contrive to find a safe hiding-place for them, and when the moment comes for us to be off I’ll see that they go with us if such a thing is at all possible; then we shall not be quite destitute if after all we have to leave the heap in the cave behind us. But don’t say anything about this to the gentlemen; Captain Staunton might not like it if he heard that I doubted the practicability of his plan.”

Blanche readily gave the desired promise, and there the matter ended for the time.

Meanwhile the work went steadily forward at the shipyard, and by the time that Bob was once more able to go on duty the framework of the schooner was complete, and the planking had been begun, whilst the battery was in so forward a state that another fortnight would see it ready to receive the guns. Ralli was in a high state of delight; but Bob had not been at work many days before he discovered that things were no longer as they had been when he received his hurt. The Greek had never been courteous in his behaviour to theGalateaparty, but now he was downright insolent, and his insolence seemed to increase every day. At the outset of the work the gentlemen of the party, that is to say, Captain Staunton, Lance, and Rex, had been required to look on and direct the progress of the work only, but now Lance was the only one to whom this privilege was granted, a privilege which he scorned to accept unshared by the others, and accordingly when Bob once more joined the working party he found his friends with their coats off and sleeves rolled up to the shoulders performing the same manual labour as the rest. Seeing this, he of course did the same, and thus they all continued to work until—the end came.

Bob was greatly surprised at this state of things; so much so that he sought an early opportunity to inquire of Lance the meaning of it. Neither Lance nor anyone else in the party were, however, able to give any explanation of it; all they could say with regard to the affair was that Ralli had been gradually growing more insolent and tyrannical in his treatment of them until matters had reached the then existing unpleasant stage. But he was earnestly cautioned by Captain Staunton not to mention a word respecting it to the ladies, as it was extremely desirable that they should be kept for as long a time as possible quite free from all anxiety of every kind.

“But can nothing be done to make this fellow mend his behaviour?” inquired Bob of the skipper as they separated from the rest of the working party and walked toward the cottage on landing from the boats that night.

“I fear not,” was the reply. “While the schooner and the battery were still to be built we had the man to some extent in our power; but now that the battery is so near completion, and the hull of the schooner fully modelled, he is independent of us, and he has sense enough to know it. His own people are quite capable of finishing off the schooner now that her framework is complete, so that threats on our part would be useless—nay, worse than useless—since they would only irritate him and lead to increasing severity toward us.”

Bob lay awake a long time that night, quite satisfied that the time had arrived when something ought to be done, but what that something should be he puzzled his brain in vain to discover.

About a fortnight after this a serious accident occurred at the shipyard, or rather at the battery. This structure was now so far advanced that it was ready to receive the guns which were intended to be mounted in it. The armament was to consist of six 24-pounder iron muzzle-loaders of the ordinary old-fashioned type, to which Johnson had helped himself in some raid on the Spanish-American coast; and on the morning in question a gang of men was told off to hoist these guns up the cliff into the battery.

Lance had, as a matter of course, undertaken the supervision of this operation; but the work had hardly commenced when Ralli made his appearance on the scene, announcing his intention to himself direct operations at the battery, and roughly ordering Lance to return at once to his work on the schooner, “and to be quick about it too, or he (Ralli) would freshen his way.”

Evelin of course returned at once to the shipyard without condescending to bandy words with the Greek, and the work went forward as usual.

Ralli soon had a pair of sheers rigged, and in due time one of the guns was slung ready for hoisting.

Lance had been watching Ralli’s operations, first with curiosity and afterwards with anxiety, for he soon saw that the man knew nothing whatever about handling heavy guns. He now saw that the gun which was about to be hoisted was wrongly slung, and that an accident was likely enough to result. So, forgetting his former rebuff, he threw down his tools and hurried to the place where the men were working about the gun and told them to cast off the slings.

“You have slung it wrong, lads,” said he, “and unless you are very careful some of you will be hurt. Cast off the slings, and I will show you the proper way to do it.”

The men, accustomed to working under his directions, were about to do as he bade them, when Ralli looked over the parapet and angrily ordered them to leave the lashings as they were and to sway away the gun.

“As for you, mister soldier,” he said, shaking his fist at Lance, “you have left your work contrary to my orders, and I will seize you up to a grating and give you five dozen to-night as a lesson to you. Now go.”

Lance turned on his heel and walked away. Things had come to a crisis at last, he thought; and he began to wonder how the crisis was to be met; upon one thing he was quite resolved, and that was that he would never submit to the indignity of the lash; Ralli might kill him if he chose, but flog him—never.

His sombre meditations were brought to an abrupt ending by a sudden crash accompanied by a shout of consternation in the direction of the battery. Looking that way he saw the tackle dangling empty from the sheers, with the lower block about half-way up the cliff face, and at the base of the cliff were the men grouped closely together about some object which was hidden by their bodies. Suddenly one of the men left the rest and ran toward the shipyard, shouting for help.

“There has been an accident,” thought Lance. “The gun has slipped from the slings, and likely enough somebody is killed.”

“Muster all the crowbars and handspikes you can, lads,” said he, “and take them over to the battery; there has been an accident, I fear.”

A strong relief gang was soon on the spot, only to find Lance’s fears confirmed. The gun had been hoisted nearly half-way up the cliff when the guide-rope had fouled a rock. The armourer had stepped forward to clear it, and in doing so had given it a jerk which had canted the gun in its slings, and before the unfortunate man had realised his danger the gun had slipped and fallen upon him, crushing both his legs to a jelly.

There was an immediate outcry among the men for Lance, an outcry which Ralli would have checked if he could; but his first attempt to do so showed him that the men were now in a temper which would render it highly dangerous for him to persist, so he gave in with the best grace he could muster and ordered one of the men to fetch Evelin to the spot. On receiving the message Lance of course at once flung down his tools and hastened to the assistance of the injured man. When he reached the scene of the catastrophe he found all hands, Ralli included, crowded round the prostrate gun, and everybody giving orders at the same time, everybody excited, and everything in a state of the direst confusion.

As he joined the group Ralli stepped forward with a smile on his lips, which in nowise cloaked his chagrin at being obliged to yield to the demands of the men, and began—

“You see, mister soldier, we cannot do without you it seems, after all. Just lend the men a hand to—”

But Lance brushed past him without deigning the slightest notice; and, pushing his way through the crowd, called upon a few of the men by name to assist him in relieving the unfortunate armourer from the ponderous weight of the gun, which still lay upon the poor fellow’s mangled limbs. Such implicit confidence had these men in him, prisoner among them though he was, that his mere presence sufficed to restore them to order; and in a few minutes the armourer, ghastly pale, and with every nerve quivering from the excruciating pain of his terrible injuries, was safely withdrawn from beneath the gun.

“Now, make a stretcher, some of you—ah, Dickinson,youare the man for this job; just make a stretcher, my good fellow—the same sort of thing that you made for the lad Bob, you know—and let’s get our patient into a boat as quickly as possible; I can do nothing with him here,” said Lance.

“Ay, ay, sir,” answered Dickinson promptly; and away he went with two or three more men to set about the work, Lance plying the injured man frequently with small doses of rum meanwhile.

Ralli stood upon the outskirts of the crowd angrily watching the proceedings. He could not shut his eyes to the fact of Lance’s popularity with the men, and he vowed within himself that he would make him pay dearly for it before the day was done, even if he were compelled to seize him up and flog him himself.

The stretcher was soon ready, and the armourer having been placed upon it, was carried as carefully as possible down to the boat. As the procession passed the shipyard Lance beckoned to Captain Staunton, saying—

“I shall need your assistance in this case. It will be a case of amputation unless I am greatly mistaken, and if so, I shall require the help of someone upon whose nerve I can depend.”

Captain Staunton, upon this, hurried back for his coat, and rejoined Lance just as the party was on the point of embarking in the boat. As the men propelled the craft swiftly across the bay Lance related in a loud tone to the skipper Ralli’s behaviour during the morning, and his threat. They were still discussing the matter anxiously together when Dickinson, who was pulling stroke-oar, and who doubtless guessed from catching a stray word or two what was the subject of their conversation, broke in upon their conference by inquiring of Lance whether he thought the armourer would recover.

“It is impossible to say yet,” answered Lance cautiously. “Of course we shall do our best for him, poor fellow, but he will require more attention than I fear Ralli will allow me to give him.”

“If that’s all,” remarked Dickinson, “I think you needn’t trouble yourself, sir; the Greek knows too well what he’s about to interfere with you when it comes to doctoring a hinjured man—a man as was hurt too all along of his own pride and obstinacy. And as to that other matter—the flogging, you know, sir—axing your pardon for speaking about it so plain, sir—don’t you trouble yourself about that. He sha’n’t lay a hand upon you while me and my mates can pervent it—shall he, mates?”

“No, that he sha’n’t, bo’,” was the eager answer.

“No, hesha’n’t,” coincided Dickinson. “We can’t do much to help you, you see, sir,” he added, “’cause, worse luck, we don’t all think alike upon some things; but we’ve only got to say the word to the rest of the hands, and Iknowsas they won’t hear of you bein’ flogged. There isn’t one of us but what respects you, sir, but what respects you gentlemen both, for that matter; you’ve always had a good word for everybody, and that goes a long way with sailors sometimes—further than a glass o’ grog—and you may make your mind easy that the Greek won’t be let to—to—you know what, sir.”

“Thank you, Dickinson,” said Lance with outstretched hand, “thank you with all my heart. You have relieved me of a heavy load of anxiety; for, to tell you the truth, I had quite made up my mind not to submit to the indignity; and if Ralli attempts to carry out his threat it will probably lead to precipitate action on our part, which at the present time would be simply disastrous.”

“So ’twould, sir; so ’twould,” agreed Dickinson. “You needn’t say another word, sir;weunderstands. Only we’d like you to know sir—and this here’s a very good opportunity for us to say it—that wheneverthe time comesyou may reckon upon all hands of us in this here boat.”

“How do you mean?” ejaculated Lance, considerably startled. “I really do not understand you.”

“Oh, it’s all right, sir,” returned Dickinson cheerfully. “We warn’t born yesterday, ne’er a one of us, and you don’t suppose as we believes you’ve all settled down to stay here for the rest of your nateral lives, do you? Lord bless you, sir,weknows you must have got some plan in your heads for getting away out of this here hole; and the long and the short of it is this:—When you’re ready to go, we’re ready to lend you a hand, perviding you’ll take us with you. We’re sick and tired of this here cursed pirating business; we wants to get away out of it; and we’ve been talking it over—me and my mates—and we’ve made up our minds that you’re sartain to be off one of these fine days, and we’d like to go with you, if you’ll have us. We want to give the world another trial, and see if we can’t end our days as honest men; ain’t that it, mates?”

“Ay, ay, Bill; that’s it and no mistake; you’ve put it to the gentlemen just exactly as we wanted it; what you says, we’ll say, and whatever promises you makes we’ll keep ’em; we wants another chance, and we hopes that if so be as these here gen’lemen are thinking of topping their booms out of this they’ll just take us along with ’em,” replied the man who was pulling the bow-oar, the others also murmuring an assent.

“But what makes you think we have an idea of effecting our escape? And how many others of you have the same opinion?” inquired Captain Staunton.

“Well, I don’t know as I can rightly saywhatmakes us think so; but wedo,” answered Dickinson. “P’raps it’s because you’ve took things so quiet and cheerful like. As to how many more of us thinks the same as we do—why, I can’t say, I’m sure. I’ve only spoke about it to some half a dozen or so that Iknowedwould be glad of a chance to leave, like myself.”

“Well,” said Captain Staunton after a pause, “I really do not think we can say anything to you, either one way or another, just now. What you have just said has been so utterly unexpected that we must have time to think and talk the matter over among ourselves; but I think we may perhaps be able to say something definite to you to-morrow in answer to your proposition. Don’t you think so, Evelin?”

“I think so,” answered Lance.

“Very well, then,” said the skipper. “Let the matter rest until to-morrow, and we will then tell you our decision. In the meantime it must be understood that none of you say a word to anyone else upon the subject until you have our permission.”

A promise to this effect was readily given by each of the men, and then the matter dropped, the boat shortly afterwards reaching the landing-place at the bottom of the bay.

The armourer was at once taken out of the boat and carried by Lance’s directions up to the building in which he slept. The miserable man was by this time in a dreadfully exhausted condition; but on the arrival of the medicine-chest Lance mixed him a powerful stimulating draught, under the influence of which he revived so much that Evelin felt himself justified in attempting the operation of amputation. This, with Captain Staunton’s assistance, was speedily and successfully performed; after which the patient was placed in his hammock, and Lance sat himself down near at hand, announcing his intention of watching by the poor fellow until next morning.

The operation successfully performed, Dickinson and his three companions returned to the shipyard, maintaining an animated and anxious consultation on the way. The result of this consultation was that when the four men resumed work they had a great deal to say—after answering numberless anxious inquiries as to the state of the wounded man—upon the subject of Ralli’s treatment of Lance and his threat to flog him. They denounced this conduct as not only unjust but also impolitic to the last degree, dwelling strongly upon the unadvisability of offending a man so skilled as Lance in medicine and surgery, and impressing their audience with the necessity for discouraging—and, if necessary, interfering to prevent—the carrying out of the threat.

And as sailors are very much like sheep—where one jumps the rest jump also—they had not much difficulty in arranging for a general demonstration of popular disapproval in the event of Ralli’s attempting the threatened indignity. Fortunately for himself—fortunately also in all probability for those in whom we are chiefly interested—he allowed the affair to pass over; in going about among the workers that day he overheard enough to feel assured that, for the moment at all events, he was an unpopular man, and as among such turbulent spirits as those with whom he had to deal, unpopularity means loss of power, his own common sense suggested to him the extreme impolicy of pitting himself against them while they continued in so antagonistic a mood. But he was quite resolved that if he could not have in one way what he called his “revenge,” he would have it in another; and from that day forward his insolence and tyranny of demeanour toward Lance and his friends grew more and more marked, until at length it became so unbearable that they were driven to the very verge of desperation.

Meanwhile Lance, sitting there watching his patient, soon saw that he was about to have his hands full. The hectic flush of fever began to chase away the deadly pallor from the sufferer’s cheek; his eyes glittered and sparkled like coals of fire; and as feeling began to return to his hitherto benumbed limbs, and the smart of his recent operation made itself felt, he tossed restlessly in his hammock, tormented with an unquenchable thirst.

“Water! water!” he muttered. “For the love of God give me water!”

Lance gave him some in a tin pannikin. In an instant the vessel was glued to the unfortunate man’s lips, and in another instant it was drained to the last drop.

“More—give me more,” he gasped, as soon as he had recovered his breath.

But this Lance declined to do. Bidding the poor fellow be patient for a few minutes, he went to the medicine-chest and mixed him a cooling draught. This also was swallowed with avidity; and then the armourer lay quiet for a few minutes. Not for long, however; he soon began to toss restlessly about once more; and by the time that the hands returned from their day’s work at the shipyard he was in a raging fever—raving mad in fact; and Lance was at last compelled to have him laced up in his hammock to prevent him from doing himself a serious injury.

Lance Evelin will probably remember that night as long as he lives. In the delirium of the fierce fever which consumed him the unhappy armourer was visited by visions of all the evil deeds of his past life; and Lance’s blood curdled in his veins as he listened to his patient’s disjointed ravings of murder, rapine, and cold-blooded cruelty of so revolting a character that he wondered how any human mind could conceive it in the first instance, and how, after it had been conceived, human hands could bring themselves to perpetrate it. And then the man’s guilty conscience awakened from its long torpor, and, acting upon his excited imagination, conjured up a thousand frightful punishments awaiting him. He writhed, he groaned, he uttered the most frightful curses, and then, in the same breath shrieked for forgiveness and mercy. It was perfectly appalling; even his comrades—those who had shared with him in the dreadful deeds about which he raved—found the scene too trying for their hardened and blunted feelings; and such of them as had their hammocks slung in the same dormitory abandoned them and slept in the open air rather than remain to have their souls harrowed by his dreadful utterances.

This terrible state of things existed until the afternoon of the following day—rather more than twenty-four hours after he had received his injuries—and then the fever subsided, but only to leave the once powerful man in the last stage of exhaustion. So completely prostrate was he that he had no power to so much as lift his hand, and he was only able to speak in the merest whisper. Now was the time when all Lance’s skill was most urgently required. Fagged as he was by his long night of watching, he tended his patient with the most unremitting assiduity, administering tonics and stimulants every few minutes; and racking his brain for devices by which he might help the man to tide over this period of extreme prostration. But it was all of no avail; the poor fellow gradually sank into a state of stupor from which all Evelin’s skill was unable to arouse him; and at length, about eight o’clock in the evening, after a temporary revival during which all the terrors of death once more assailed him, his guilty soul passed away without opportunity for repentance; prayers and curses issuing from his lips in horrible confusion up to the last moment of his existence. His death was witnessed by several of his companions in crime; and, while some tried to laugh and scoff away the unwelcome impression which the scene produced upon their minds, there were others who went into the open air and wandered away by themselves to ponder upon this miserable ending of a crime-stained life.

Chapter Eighteen.Alarm and disaster.Lance’s long and fatiguing watch beside the death-bed of the unfortunate armourer of course delayed to some extent Captain Staunton’s reply to the suggestion which Dickinson had made on behalf of himself and certain of his comrades. But the skipper had, to save time, discussed the matter with the rest of the party, coming to the conclusion that they would be quite justified, under the circumstances, in accepting the services of these men; and on the morning following the armourer’s death—Lance having enjoyed a good night’s rest—his opinion was taken upon the question, with the view of giving the men an answer forthwith.Evelin listened attentively to everything that was said; and then remarked—“Well, gentlemen, I quite agree with you that the assistance which the men have it in their power to afford us would be most valuable; it would clear away a good many of our difficulties and would go a long way toward ensuring success in our endeavour to escape—an endeavour which I must confess I have always secretly regarded with a considerable amount of doubt and misgiving. It has always presented itself to me as an undertaking of a decidedly desperate character; and now it appears more so than ever, having regard to the very disagreeable change in Ralli’s treatment of us. The only question in my mind is one of duty—duty to our country and to the world at large. We must not forget that the men who now come to us with offers of assistance are men who have, in the past, outraged every law, human and divine; and justice demands that they shall be delivered up to punishment. Now, if we accept their serviceswecertainly cannot afterwards denounce them; it would be rank treachery on our part. How do you propose to overcome this difficulty?”“We have thought of that,” replied Captain Staunton; “it is the only question which has bothered us; and, for my own part, I can only see one solution of it. No word has, it is true, been said by them as to our keeping their secret, but I think there can be no doubt that such a stipulation was intended to be understood; and in any case I fully agree with you that we cannot justly avail ourselves of their assistance and afterwards hand them over to the authorities. My view of the case is this. Here we are, in what is beyond all doubt a most desperate scrape. A chance—and a very slight chance it is—offers for our escape, and most opportunely these men come forward with an offer of assistance. If we let slip this slight chance it is extremely doubtful whether we shall ever have another; and that, I imagine—taking into account the future possibilities of evil in store for the helpless women dependent upon us—counts for something, and justifies us is accepting help from almost any source. Then, as regards the men themselves. It is undoubtedly true that they have committed crimes which place them quite outside the pale of human mercy,if justice aloneis to be considered. But for my own part I believe that they have repented of their past misdeeds—at any rate theysayso, and we have no reason to doubt the truth of their assertion. They ask for an opportunity to reform; they desire a chance of making amends, as far as possible, for the past evil of their lives; and I have an idea, gentlemen, that though, in giving them such a chance, we might not be acting in accordance withman’sidea of strict justice, we should be following pretty closely upon God’s idea of it. He breaks not the bruised reed nor quenches the smoking flax; and if He thus declares his readiness to give even the most doubtful and unpromising of His creatures another trial, I really do not see that we are called upon to be more strict than He is. My proposal, therefore, is that we should accept these men’s proffered assistance; that we should do what we may be able to do for them in the way of giving them the opportunity they desire; and if justiceisto overtake them—if punishmentisto follow their past misdeeds, let it be due to some other agencies than ours. If God intends them to suffer punishment at the hands of their fellow-creatures, He will provide the instruments, never fear. But I think it far more likely He will give them another chance.”“I, too, believe He will,” said Lance. “You take a view of the matter which I confess with shame had not presented itself to me, and I am convinced. These men have committed crimes of exceptional enormity, it is true; but it is not for us to draw the line—to say to whom mercy shall be granted and from whom it shall be withheld; therefore let us accept their offer, and leave the matter of their punishment in God’s hands.”Thus, then, it was decided; and Bob—as the least likely to excite suspicion if seen in conversation with any of the pirates—was deputed to inform Dickinson that his offer and that of his mates’ had been accepted, and to request him to call—without exciting observation, if possible—at the cottage that evening.When the gentlemen returned home at the close of the day’s work, they found Blanche and Violet in a state of considerable nervous excitement, owing, they asserted, to their having been frightened that day while at their work of gold-collecting in the cavern. On being asked for a detailed account of the circumstance which had alarmed them, Violet said—“We had been at work about two hours, and had just reached the edge of the gulf with our second load, when we were startled by hearing somewhere near us a sound like a deep long-drawn sigh, followed almost immediately afterwards by a loud moan. I have no doubt you will think us dreadful cowards, but it is no use concealing the truth—we simply dropped the gold and flew back along the passage to the great cavern at our utmost speed. Arrived there, we sat down to recover ourselves, and at length succeeded so far that we were both inclined to believe we had been victimised by our own imaginations—you know what an eerie place it is, and how likely to excite weird fancies in the minds of nervous timid women like ourselves. So we summoned up all our courage and went to work once more. We naturally felt somewhat reluctant to visit the scene of our fright again; but we overcame the feeling and made our third journey to the chasm without experiencing any further shock to our nerves. On our fourth journey, however, we had reached the place, deposited our load, and had just set out to return when the same sounds were repeated, much more loudly than at first, and accompanied this time by a loud prolonged hiss such as I should imagine could proceed only from some gigantic serpent. We were thoroughly terrified this time, and fled once more, not only to the cavern but thence into the open air, and home. I do not know how we may regard the matter in the morning; but at present I really do not feel as though I could ever venture into the place again until the mystery has been solved and the cause of those terrifying sounds discovered.”“Of course not,” said Captain Staunton. “None of you must attempt to visit the cavern again until we have had an opportunity of investigating the matter. It is possible—though, mind you, I don’t think it at all probable—that a serpent or large reptile of some kindmayhave made its way into the gallery. And, at all events, it will never do for you ladies to run the slightest risk. What do you think, Evelin?” he added, turning to Lance. “Is it likely that there may be a snake or something of the sort there?”“Notlikely, I should say,” responded Lance; “we have never encountered a reptile of any description, large or small, in the course of our rambles about the island. But of course there is just thebare possibility—I cannot put it any stronger than that—of a snake drifting here on an uprooted tree or large branch. I have heard of snakes being seen in the branches of trees drifting down rivers in flood-time, and there is no reason why, under such circumstances, they should not be carried clear out to sea. Whether, however, a serpent could exist long enough to make the voyage from the mainland to this island is, in my opinion, exceedingly doubtful. Still, I quite agree with you that the ladies ought not to make any further visits to the cavern until we have discovered the source of their alarm.”This singular circumstance gave rise to a considerable amount of speculation among the members of the party; and they were still discussing the matter when a knocking was heard at the door, and, in obedience to Captain Staunton’s stentorian “Come in,” Dickinson entered.“Sarvent, ladies,” exclaimed the new-comer with an elaborate sea-scrape. Then, seating himself in the chair which Captain Staunton indicated, he continued, “Well, cap’n, and gentlemen all, I’ve just comed up, you see, in obedience to your commands of the forenoon sent through the young gentleman there”—pointing to Bob—“and to talk matters over as it were.”“That’s all right, Dickinson,” answered Captain Staunton; “weare very glad to see you. Robert of course told you that we have decided to accept the assistance of yourself and such of your shipmates as are to be thoroughly relied upon?”“He did, sir; and right glad and thankful I was to hear it,” replied Dickinson. “Of course we knowed right well, sir, how much we was axing of you when we offered to chime in on your side. We was just axing that you’d take us upon trust as it were, and believe in the honesty and straight-for’ard-ness of men as had proved theirselves to be rogues and worse. But you’ve took us, sir, and you sha’n’t have no cause to repent it; we’re yours, heart and soul; hence-for’ard we takes our orders fromyou, and we’re ready to take any oath you like upon it.”“No oath is necessary, my good fellow,” said Captain Staunton; “your bare word is quite sufficient, for if you intend to be faithful to us you will be so without swearing fidelity; and if you mean to betray us an oath would hardly stop you, I am afraid. But we do not doubt your fidelity in the least; the only thing we have any fear about is yourprudence.”“Ah, yes; there sir, wemayfail,” said Dickinson with a mournful shake of the head. “But you give your orders, sir, and we’ll do our best to obey ’em. But afore you lays your plans I think you ought to know how things is standing among us just now. I’m greatly afeared you’re like so many young bears—with all your troubles afore you. That Greek rascal, Ralli, has been doin’ his best to stir up all hands of us against you—and particler againstyou, Mr Evelin—by saying as it was all along of you as the poor armourer lost his life. He holds as how you killed him by taking off his legs, and that you desarves to be severely punished for doing of it; and there’s some of the chaps as is fools enough to listen to what he says and to believe it too. But there’s me and Tom Poole and two or three more—we’regoing to hold out to it that you did the best you could for the poor chap; and that if it hadn’t ha’ been for Ralli’s own obstinacy the man wouldn’t never have been hurt at all. And, however the thing goes, you may depend upon me to give you timely warning.”“Thank you, Dickinson,” said Captain Staunton. “This information which you have just given us is most valuable, and renders it all the more necessary that we should promptly mature our plans. Now, to show you how thoroughly we trust you, I will explain those plans as far as we have yet arranged them; you can then tell us what you think of them; and you will also be better able to understand in what way you and your shipmates can prove of most use to us.”“Well, if that don’t beat all!” exclaimed Dickinson, after Captain Staunton had stated their plans. “To think as you should go for to arrange to run away with the schooner herself! Why, I thought the most you’d do would be to provision and seize the launch, and go off to sea in her, taking your chance of being picked up some time or another. Well, there ain’t a soul amongst us, I knows, as has so much as the ghost of a hidee about your taking the schooner. Some of the hands seems to have a kind of notion—I’ve found out since I spoke to you t’other day—that youmaytry to slip off some day if you gets the chance; but they just laughs at it you know, and asks how you’re to manage, and how far you’d get in a boat afore the schooner’d be alongside of you, and that-like. Butyourplan’s the right one, cap’n—no mistake about that. And now, just say what you want us chaps to do, and we’ll do it if it’s any way possible.”“How many of you are there?” asked the skipper. “How many, I mean, upon whom we can absolutely depend. Bear in mind thatno onewho is notthoroughlytrustworthy is to be let into the secret.”“All right, sir; you trust me for that,” answered Dickinson. “For my own sake—letting alone yours and the ladies’—you may depend on’t I won’t let out the secret to the wrong people. Well; let me just reckon up how many of us there’ll be in all. Firstly there’s eight of you, counting in Mr Bowles and Kit, and leaving out the ladies. Then there’s the three other lads and the four men as was brought in with you, that’s seven—seven and eight’s—”“Fifteen,” interjected the skipper.“Thank’ee, sir, I ain’t much of a hand at figgers myself, but in course you’re right—fifteen it is,” said Dickinson. “Then there’s me and Tom Poole—that’s my pertickler mate—promoted he is to the armourer’s berth—and Dick Sullivan and Ned Masters—that’s four more, making fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, eighteen, nineteen—nineteen, ain’t it, sir?”“Quite right,” answered Captain Staunton.“Then there’s the prisoners, as we calls ’em—men, you know, sir, as has been took out of ships and wouldn’t jine the ‘Brotherhood’—I won’t say much aboutthemjust yet, but there’s about half a dozen very likely hands among ’em that I think’ll just jump at the chance of getting out of this. Tom and me’ll sound ’em cautious like, and hear what they’ve got to say for theirselves.”“Very well,” said Captain Staunton. “And in the meantime it seems that there are nineteen of us, all told, who are to be absolutely relied upon—quite enough to handle the schooner if we can only manage to get away with her. Now, what we have to do is this. The ballast and the water-tanks are already fixed in their places, so that need not trouble us; but we must contrive to get the tanks filled as early as possible. Then, as soon as the decks are laid we must get conveyed on board all the provisions we can possibly manage. Then we shall want arms and ammunition; the guns too must be hoisted in, under the pretence of fitting the slides properly. The spars are already commenced. They, or at least the lower-masts and bowsprit, must be stepped before the craft is launched; that can easily be managed, I think; the other spars also should be finished and got on board as early as possible, and likewise the sails. There are the stores of every kind also to be got on board—in short, I should like to have the craft in a state of readiness to go to sea directly she leaves the stocks. But I really don’t see how it is to be managed; we shall never be able to do a quarter of what we want without arousing Ralli’s suspicions.”“Oh, bless you, sir! yes, you will,” said Dickinson confidently. “Ralli’s taken a mortal dislike to you all, and ’specially to Mr Evelin,—sorry I am to say so,—and he justhatesto be dictated to. Now, whatever you want, just let Mr Evelin tell him he ought to do the opposite of it, and, take my word for it, he’ll just go and do exactly what he thinks you don’t want him to; he’ll do it out of sheer contrariness. But, whether or no, now that we knows what’s wanted, we—that’s me and my mates—we’ll do as much of it as we can, and you’ll have to manage Ralli so’s to get the rest.”“Very well, Dickinson,” said the skipper, “we understand each other fully now, so I will not detain you any longer. Do what you can to forward the plan, and let us know from time to time what success you are meeting with.”“All right, sir, I will; thank’ee, sir. Good-night, ladies and gentlemen all.”And Dickinson, taking the hint, retired.The gentlemen sat for an hour or two after that, talking over matters as they smoked their pipes, and then Captain Staunton, Lance, and Bowles rose and left the cottage to pay a visit to the cavern.In due time they reached the place, proceeding at once to the chasm, where they forthwith commenced a vigorous but unsuccessful search for the origin of the mysterious sounds which had disturbed the ladies. Finding nothing, they began their task of conveying the gold collected that day across to the heap on the other side of the gulf. This heap was now assuming goodly proportions. There was more of it than an ordinary ship’s boat could take at a single trip, even in the calmest of weather; and Lance was in the act of remarking to Captain Staunton that he thought enough had now been collected to satisfy their every want, when a weird, unearthly moan smote upon their ears from the depths of the abyss. The sound, though not particularly loud, was so startling, echoing and reverberating, as it did, among the cavernous recesses far below, that the work was brought to a sudden standstill, and the three bewildered men felt their hair bristling as they listened.“What, in Heaven’s name, can it be?” ejaculated the skipper as he turned his startled gaze upon Lance.“Impossible to say,” answered the latter. “One thing, however, is certain; nohumanlungs could possibly give utterance to such a sound. And yet I don’t know; the echoes of the place may have the property of magnifying and prolonging it. Hillo, there! is there anyone below?” he continued, raising his torch aloft and peering with craned neck down into the black depths of the chasm.There was no response. And the light of the torch was quite inadequate to the illumination of more than a few feet from the surface.“It is possible that, if thereisanyone down there, he may be unable to hear me. Soundrises, you know. Here, Bowles, come across to this side. We will unite our voices and see if that will evoke any response,” said Lance.Bowles scrambled nimbly along the narrow and dangerous pathway, which, having traversed it so often, now had no terrors for any of them, and speedily joined the others.“Now,” said Lance, “I will count three, and then we will all shout together, ‘Hillo!’ One, two, three—Hillo!”The cry went pealing away right and left of them along the dark gallery, the echoes taking it up and tossing it wildly from side to side, up and down, until it seemed as though every rock in the vast cavern had found a voice with which to mock them; but no answering cry came from below.“There is no one there,” said Lance. “Indeed therecanbe no one there; nobody has been missed, and—”“Hark! what was that?”A long-drawn sobbing sigh, such as a child will utter after it has cried itself to sleep, but very much louder; and immediately afterwards a gust of hot air, which brought with it a distinct odour of sulphur, swept past them down the gallery.“God of mercy! can it be possible?” ejaculated Lance. “Yes, it must be. Fly for your lives; we may not have a moment to lose.”“What is it?” gasped Captain Staunton, as the three started at a run up the gallery in the direction of the great cavern.“Avolcano,” answered Lance. “There are subterranean fires in activity at no great depth beneath our feet, and they may break into open eruption at any moment.”This was enough; his companions wanted to hear no more. The few words they had already heard lent wings to their feet, and in an incredibly short time they found themselves, panting and exhausted with their unwonted exertions, once more in the open air.“Now we are comparatively safe,” said Lance as they walked rapidly down the ravine. “What I chiefly feared was one of those earthquake shocks such as sometimes precede a volcanic eruption. A comparatively insignificant one might have proved sufficient to cause the walls of the cavern to collapse and bury us. Of course the ladies must be cautioned not to venture near the place again; but I think perhaps it will be better not to tell them why. It will only alarm them—perhaps unnecessarily—and keep them on the tiptoe of nervous anxious expectancy. The better plan will be to say that we consider we have now as much gold as we think it probable we shall be able to take away. Don’t you think so, Staunton?”“Assuredly I do,” answered the skipper emphatically. “Why, I would not allow my wife to enter that cavern again for all the gold it contains.”They reached the cottage without further adventure; and on the following morning the ladies were told by Captain Staunton that, sufficient gold having now been collected, there would be no further necessity for them to continue their visits to the cavern, which, moreover, Mr Evelin considered unsafe, the peculiar noises which had startled them all being in his opinion an indication of its liability to collapse at any moment.After this a month passed away unmarked by anything worthy of record, except the ever-increasing insolence and tyranny of Ralli toward our unfortunate friends.The battery was by this time complete, the guns mounted, and the ammunition stored in its magazine; whilst the schooner was also in a very forward state. She was fully planked, decks laid, the ballast stowed, bulwarks and hatchways completed, her bottom coppered up to the load water-line, her hull outside painted with a coat of priming, and the carpenters, assisted by the handiest men they could pick out, were busy finishing off the fittings of the cabin and forecastle. Lance had been anxiously watching for a favourable opportunity to put into operation Dickinson’s suggestion as to the mode in which Ralli should be approached in order to secure the completion of the work in the manner most favourable to their own plans, but hitherto no such opportunity had presented itself. This was peculiarly unfortunate, as the work was now in so forward a state that, whenever Ralli opened his mouth, he expected to hear the dreaded order given for the preparation of the ways and the construction of the cradle for launching.But at length the coveted opportunity came. It was about nine o’clock in the morning when Lance saw Ralli step out of his gig on to the rocky platform at the lower end of the shipyard and walk straight toward the schooner. The Greek paused at a little distance from where Lance was at work, taking up a position from which he could obtain a favourable view of the vessel’s beautifully modelled hull and gracefully sweeping lines; and then, with one eye shut, he began a critical scrutiny of her, shifting his position a few inches occasionally in order to test the perfection of the various curves.“Now,” Lance thought, “is my time. I must tackle him at once, whatever comes of it; it will never do to defer the matter any further. Another hour’s delay may upset all our plans.”So, throwing down his tools, he stepped up to Ralli and said—“I want to speak to you about the launch. We have now done nearly all that wecando to the schooner whilst she remains on the stocks, and our next job will be to lay down the ways and—”Ralli turned suddenly upon him with an evil gleam and glitter in his eyes which spoke volumes as to the envy and hatred he bore to this man, who, though a prisoner and practically a slave, still revealed in every word and gesture his vast and unmistakable superiority to every other man on the island, its ruler included.“Aha! mister soldier,” he said—using the mode of address which, for some reason known only to himself, he deemed most offensive to Lance—his lips curling into a sneering smile as he spoke, “what are you doing away from your work? Go back to it at once, unless you wish me to start you with a rope’s-end as I would an unruly boy.”“I have no work to go back to,” said Lance; “I am simply wasting my time at present, and I wanted to learn your wishes as to what is to be done next I presume you will have the craft launched forthwith, as she is now ready to take to the water; and I should be glad to know what timber we are to use for the ways.”“You presume I will have the craft launched at once,” repeated Ralli, the spirit of opposition rising strong within him, and the sneer upon his lips growing more bitter with every word he uttered. “Why should you presume any such thing, eh, you sare?”“Because it is the right and proper thing to do,” answered Lance. “Every lubber knows that a ship is launched before she is rigged. Besides, if you were to decide upon having the spars stepped and rigged, the stores stowed, and the guns hoisted in before she leaves the stocks, I should have a lot of extra trouble in calculating the proper distribution of the weights so as to ensure her being in proper trim when she takes to the water, and I want to avoid all that if possible.”The Greek grinned with vindictive delight as he listened to this apparently inadvertent admission on Lance’s part. It revealed to him, as he thought, a new and unexpected method of inflicting annoyance upon this man whom he hated so thoroughly, and his eyes fairly sparkled with malice as he answered—“What do you suppose I care about your extra trouble, you lazy skulking hound? I tell you this: I will have every spar stepped, rigged, and put in its place; the running rigging all rove; every sail bent; every gun mounted; the magazine stowed; the stores and water all put on board; and everything ready for the schooner to go straight out to sea from the stocks, before she leaves them. Poole! Dickinson!”—to the two chums who were working at no great distance—“come here and listen to what I say. This stupid fellow—this soldier who thinks himself a sailor—says that the schooner ought to be launched at once.Isay that she shall be finished ready for sea before she leaves the stocks; and I place you, Dickinson, in charge of the work to see that my orders are obeyed. This fellow will no longer give any orders; he will be only a common workman; he will obey you in future, or you will freshen his way with a rope’s-end. You understand?”“Ay, ay,” answered Dickinson, “I understands yer, Ralli, and I’ll do it too, never fear,”—with a scowl at Lance for Ralli’s benefit. “Why, the man must be a fool—a perfect fool—not to see as it’d be ever so much easier to get things aboard now than when she’s afloat. Now, you”—turning to Lance—“you just top your boom and git away back to your work at once, and don’t let me see no more skulking or you’d better look out.”Lance simply shrugged his shoulders, as was his habit whenever he received any insolence from the members of the “Brotherhood,” and, turning on his heel, walked back to his work, secretly exulting in the complete success of his manoeuvre.Dickinson looked after him contemptuously for a moment or two, and then, his face clouding, he remarked—“Arter all, I wish I hadn’t spoke quite so rough to him; the chap’s got his head screwed on the right way; he knows a mortal sight of things as I don’t understand, and I’d ha’ been glad to ha’ had his help and adwice like in many a little job, as I’m afeared we’ll make a bit of a bungle of without him.”“That is all right,” said Ralli. “You shall be able to talk him over, Dickinson. Be a bit civil to him and he will tell you all that you will want to know. Leave the—what you call?—the bullying to me; I shall take the care that he enough has of that.”And now—on that same morning, and only an hour or two after the conversation just recorded—there occurred an unfortunate incident which completely dissipated Lance’s exultation, filling him with the direst and most anxious forebodings, and threatening to utterly upset the success of all their carefully arranged plans.It happened thus. Some timber was required by the carpenters on board the schooner; and Dickinson, eager to properly play his part in the presence of the Greek—who was standing close by—ordered Lance and Captain Staunton to bring up a large and heavy plank which he pointed out. They accordingly shouldered it, and, staggering under the load, proceeded upon their way, which led them close past the spot where Ralli stood. As they were passing him it unfortunately happened that Lance stepped upon a small spar, which, rolling under his feet, caused him to stagger in such a way that the plank struck Ralli full in the mouth, knocking away three or four teeth and cutting open both lips. The fellow reeled backwards with the severity of the blow, but, recovering himself, whipped out his long knife, and, pale as death with passion, rushed upon Lance. Captain Staunton saw what was about to happen, and shouted in warning, “Look out, Evelin!” flinging the plank to the ground at the same instant in such a way as to momentarily check the rush of the Greek. Lance at the call turned round, and was just in time to save himself from an ugly blow by catching Ralli’s uplifted arm in his left hand. The pirate, lithe and supple as a serpent, writhed and twisted in Lance’s grasp in his efforts to get free, but it was all in vain; he was helpless as a child in the iron grasp of the stalwart soldier, and he was at length compelled to fling his knife to the ground and own himself vanquished.But no sooner was he once more free than, calling to his aid a dozen of the most ruffianly of his band, he ordered them to seize Lance and the skipper, and to lash them hand and foot until the irons could be brought and riveted on.This was done; and an hour afterwards, to the grief and consternation of all concerned in the plan of escape, the two to whom they chiefly looked for its success were marched off to the “Black Hole,” each man’s ankles being connected together by a couple of close-fitting iron bands and two long fetter-links.

Lance’s long and fatiguing watch beside the death-bed of the unfortunate armourer of course delayed to some extent Captain Staunton’s reply to the suggestion which Dickinson had made on behalf of himself and certain of his comrades. But the skipper had, to save time, discussed the matter with the rest of the party, coming to the conclusion that they would be quite justified, under the circumstances, in accepting the services of these men; and on the morning following the armourer’s death—Lance having enjoyed a good night’s rest—his opinion was taken upon the question, with the view of giving the men an answer forthwith.

Evelin listened attentively to everything that was said; and then remarked—

“Well, gentlemen, I quite agree with you that the assistance which the men have it in their power to afford us would be most valuable; it would clear away a good many of our difficulties and would go a long way toward ensuring success in our endeavour to escape—an endeavour which I must confess I have always secretly regarded with a considerable amount of doubt and misgiving. It has always presented itself to me as an undertaking of a decidedly desperate character; and now it appears more so than ever, having regard to the very disagreeable change in Ralli’s treatment of us. The only question in my mind is one of duty—duty to our country and to the world at large. We must not forget that the men who now come to us with offers of assistance are men who have, in the past, outraged every law, human and divine; and justice demands that they shall be delivered up to punishment. Now, if we accept their serviceswecertainly cannot afterwards denounce them; it would be rank treachery on our part. How do you propose to overcome this difficulty?”

“We have thought of that,” replied Captain Staunton; “it is the only question which has bothered us; and, for my own part, I can only see one solution of it. No word has, it is true, been said by them as to our keeping their secret, but I think there can be no doubt that such a stipulation was intended to be understood; and in any case I fully agree with you that we cannot justly avail ourselves of their assistance and afterwards hand them over to the authorities. My view of the case is this. Here we are, in what is beyond all doubt a most desperate scrape. A chance—and a very slight chance it is—offers for our escape, and most opportunely these men come forward with an offer of assistance. If we let slip this slight chance it is extremely doubtful whether we shall ever have another; and that, I imagine—taking into account the future possibilities of evil in store for the helpless women dependent upon us—counts for something, and justifies us is accepting help from almost any source. Then, as regards the men themselves. It is undoubtedly true that they have committed crimes which place them quite outside the pale of human mercy,if justice aloneis to be considered. But for my own part I believe that they have repented of their past misdeeds—at any rate theysayso, and we have no reason to doubt the truth of their assertion. They ask for an opportunity to reform; they desire a chance of making amends, as far as possible, for the past evil of their lives; and I have an idea, gentlemen, that though, in giving them such a chance, we might not be acting in accordance withman’sidea of strict justice, we should be following pretty closely upon God’s idea of it. He breaks not the bruised reed nor quenches the smoking flax; and if He thus declares his readiness to give even the most doubtful and unpromising of His creatures another trial, I really do not see that we are called upon to be more strict than He is. My proposal, therefore, is that we should accept these men’s proffered assistance; that we should do what we may be able to do for them in the way of giving them the opportunity they desire; and if justiceisto overtake them—if punishmentisto follow their past misdeeds, let it be due to some other agencies than ours. If God intends them to suffer punishment at the hands of their fellow-creatures, He will provide the instruments, never fear. But I think it far more likely He will give them another chance.”

“I, too, believe He will,” said Lance. “You take a view of the matter which I confess with shame had not presented itself to me, and I am convinced. These men have committed crimes of exceptional enormity, it is true; but it is not for us to draw the line—to say to whom mercy shall be granted and from whom it shall be withheld; therefore let us accept their offer, and leave the matter of their punishment in God’s hands.”

Thus, then, it was decided; and Bob—as the least likely to excite suspicion if seen in conversation with any of the pirates—was deputed to inform Dickinson that his offer and that of his mates’ had been accepted, and to request him to call—without exciting observation, if possible—at the cottage that evening.

When the gentlemen returned home at the close of the day’s work, they found Blanche and Violet in a state of considerable nervous excitement, owing, they asserted, to their having been frightened that day while at their work of gold-collecting in the cavern. On being asked for a detailed account of the circumstance which had alarmed them, Violet said—

“We had been at work about two hours, and had just reached the edge of the gulf with our second load, when we were startled by hearing somewhere near us a sound like a deep long-drawn sigh, followed almost immediately afterwards by a loud moan. I have no doubt you will think us dreadful cowards, but it is no use concealing the truth—we simply dropped the gold and flew back along the passage to the great cavern at our utmost speed. Arrived there, we sat down to recover ourselves, and at length succeeded so far that we were both inclined to believe we had been victimised by our own imaginations—you know what an eerie place it is, and how likely to excite weird fancies in the minds of nervous timid women like ourselves. So we summoned up all our courage and went to work once more. We naturally felt somewhat reluctant to visit the scene of our fright again; but we overcame the feeling and made our third journey to the chasm without experiencing any further shock to our nerves. On our fourth journey, however, we had reached the place, deposited our load, and had just set out to return when the same sounds were repeated, much more loudly than at first, and accompanied this time by a loud prolonged hiss such as I should imagine could proceed only from some gigantic serpent. We were thoroughly terrified this time, and fled once more, not only to the cavern but thence into the open air, and home. I do not know how we may regard the matter in the morning; but at present I really do not feel as though I could ever venture into the place again until the mystery has been solved and the cause of those terrifying sounds discovered.”

“Of course not,” said Captain Staunton. “None of you must attempt to visit the cavern again until we have had an opportunity of investigating the matter. It is possible—though, mind you, I don’t think it at all probable—that a serpent or large reptile of some kindmayhave made its way into the gallery. And, at all events, it will never do for you ladies to run the slightest risk. What do you think, Evelin?” he added, turning to Lance. “Is it likely that there may be a snake or something of the sort there?”

“Notlikely, I should say,” responded Lance; “we have never encountered a reptile of any description, large or small, in the course of our rambles about the island. But of course there is just thebare possibility—I cannot put it any stronger than that—of a snake drifting here on an uprooted tree or large branch. I have heard of snakes being seen in the branches of trees drifting down rivers in flood-time, and there is no reason why, under such circumstances, they should not be carried clear out to sea. Whether, however, a serpent could exist long enough to make the voyage from the mainland to this island is, in my opinion, exceedingly doubtful. Still, I quite agree with you that the ladies ought not to make any further visits to the cavern until we have discovered the source of their alarm.”

This singular circumstance gave rise to a considerable amount of speculation among the members of the party; and they were still discussing the matter when a knocking was heard at the door, and, in obedience to Captain Staunton’s stentorian “Come in,” Dickinson entered.

“Sarvent, ladies,” exclaimed the new-comer with an elaborate sea-scrape. Then, seating himself in the chair which Captain Staunton indicated, he continued, “Well, cap’n, and gentlemen all, I’ve just comed up, you see, in obedience to your commands of the forenoon sent through the young gentleman there”—pointing to Bob—“and to talk matters over as it were.”

“That’s all right, Dickinson,” answered Captain Staunton; “weare very glad to see you. Robert of course told you that we have decided to accept the assistance of yourself and such of your shipmates as are to be thoroughly relied upon?”

“He did, sir; and right glad and thankful I was to hear it,” replied Dickinson. “Of course we knowed right well, sir, how much we was axing of you when we offered to chime in on your side. We was just axing that you’d take us upon trust as it were, and believe in the honesty and straight-for’ard-ness of men as had proved theirselves to be rogues and worse. But you’ve took us, sir, and you sha’n’t have no cause to repent it; we’re yours, heart and soul; hence-for’ard we takes our orders fromyou, and we’re ready to take any oath you like upon it.”

“No oath is necessary, my good fellow,” said Captain Staunton; “your bare word is quite sufficient, for if you intend to be faithful to us you will be so without swearing fidelity; and if you mean to betray us an oath would hardly stop you, I am afraid. But we do not doubt your fidelity in the least; the only thing we have any fear about is yourprudence.”

“Ah, yes; there sir, wemayfail,” said Dickinson with a mournful shake of the head. “But you give your orders, sir, and we’ll do our best to obey ’em. But afore you lays your plans I think you ought to know how things is standing among us just now. I’m greatly afeared you’re like so many young bears—with all your troubles afore you. That Greek rascal, Ralli, has been doin’ his best to stir up all hands of us against you—and particler againstyou, Mr Evelin—by saying as it was all along of you as the poor armourer lost his life. He holds as how you killed him by taking off his legs, and that you desarves to be severely punished for doing of it; and there’s some of the chaps as is fools enough to listen to what he says and to believe it too. But there’s me and Tom Poole and two or three more—we’regoing to hold out to it that you did the best you could for the poor chap; and that if it hadn’t ha’ been for Ralli’s own obstinacy the man wouldn’t never have been hurt at all. And, however the thing goes, you may depend upon me to give you timely warning.”

“Thank you, Dickinson,” said Captain Staunton. “This information which you have just given us is most valuable, and renders it all the more necessary that we should promptly mature our plans. Now, to show you how thoroughly we trust you, I will explain those plans as far as we have yet arranged them; you can then tell us what you think of them; and you will also be better able to understand in what way you and your shipmates can prove of most use to us.”

“Well, if that don’t beat all!” exclaimed Dickinson, after Captain Staunton had stated their plans. “To think as you should go for to arrange to run away with the schooner herself! Why, I thought the most you’d do would be to provision and seize the launch, and go off to sea in her, taking your chance of being picked up some time or another. Well, there ain’t a soul amongst us, I knows, as has so much as the ghost of a hidee about your taking the schooner. Some of the hands seems to have a kind of notion—I’ve found out since I spoke to you t’other day—that youmaytry to slip off some day if you gets the chance; but they just laughs at it you know, and asks how you’re to manage, and how far you’d get in a boat afore the schooner’d be alongside of you, and that-like. Butyourplan’s the right one, cap’n—no mistake about that. And now, just say what you want us chaps to do, and we’ll do it if it’s any way possible.”

“How many of you are there?” asked the skipper. “How many, I mean, upon whom we can absolutely depend. Bear in mind thatno onewho is notthoroughlytrustworthy is to be let into the secret.”

“All right, sir; you trust me for that,” answered Dickinson. “For my own sake—letting alone yours and the ladies’—you may depend on’t I won’t let out the secret to the wrong people. Well; let me just reckon up how many of us there’ll be in all. Firstly there’s eight of you, counting in Mr Bowles and Kit, and leaving out the ladies. Then there’s the three other lads and the four men as was brought in with you, that’s seven—seven and eight’s—”

“Fifteen,” interjected the skipper.

“Thank’ee, sir, I ain’t much of a hand at figgers myself, but in course you’re right—fifteen it is,” said Dickinson. “Then there’s me and Tom Poole—that’s my pertickler mate—promoted he is to the armourer’s berth—and Dick Sullivan and Ned Masters—that’s four more, making fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, eighteen, nineteen—nineteen, ain’t it, sir?”

“Quite right,” answered Captain Staunton.

“Then there’s the prisoners, as we calls ’em—men, you know, sir, as has been took out of ships and wouldn’t jine the ‘Brotherhood’—I won’t say much aboutthemjust yet, but there’s about half a dozen very likely hands among ’em that I think’ll just jump at the chance of getting out of this. Tom and me’ll sound ’em cautious like, and hear what they’ve got to say for theirselves.”

“Very well,” said Captain Staunton. “And in the meantime it seems that there are nineteen of us, all told, who are to be absolutely relied upon—quite enough to handle the schooner if we can only manage to get away with her. Now, what we have to do is this. The ballast and the water-tanks are already fixed in their places, so that need not trouble us; but we must contrive to get the tanks filled as early as possible. Then, as soon as the decks are laid we must get conveyed on board all the provisions we can possibly manage. Then we shall want arms and ammunition; the guns too must be hoisted in, under the pretence of fitting the slides properly. The spars are already commenced. They, or at least the lower-masts and bowsprit, must be stepped before the craft is launched; that can easily be managed, I think; the other spars also should be finished and got on board as early as possible, and likewise the sails. There are the stores of every kind also to be got on board—in short, I should like to have the craft in a state of readiness to go to sea directly she leaves the stocks. But I really don’t see how it is to be managed; we shall never be able to do a quarter of what we want without arousing Ralli’s suspicions.”

“Oh, bless you, sir! yes, you will,” said Dickinson confidently. “Ralli’s taken a mortal dislike to you all, and ’specially to Mr Evelin,—sorry I am to say so,—and he justhatesto be dictated to. Now, whatever you want, just let Mr Evelin tell him he ought to do the opposite of it, and, take my word for it, he’ll just go and do exactly what he thinks you don’t want him to; he’ll do it out of sheer contrariness. But, whether or no, now that we knows what’s wanted, we—that’s me and my mates—we’ll do as much of it as we can, and you’ll have to manage Ralli so’s to get the rest.”

“Very well, Dickinson,” said the skipper, “we understand each other fully now, so I will not detain you any longer. Do what you can to forward the plan, and let us know from time to time what success you are meeting with.”

“All right, sir, I will; thank’ee, sir. Good-night, ladies and gentlemen all.”

And Dickinson, taking the hint, retired.

The gentlemen sat for an hour or two after that, talking over matters as they smoked their pipes, and then Captain Staunton, Lance, and Bowles rose and left the cottage to pay a visit to the cavern.

In due time they reached the place, proceeding at once to the chasm, where they forthwith commenced a vigorous but unsuccessful search for the origin of the mysterious sounds which had disturbed the ladies. Finding nothing, they began their task of conveying the gold collected that day across to the heap on the other side of the gulf. This heap was now assuming goodly proportions. There was more of it than an ordinary ship’s boat could take at a single trip, even in the calmest of weather; and Lance was in the act of remarking to Captain Staunton that he thought enough had now been collected to satisfy their every want, when a weird, unearthly moan smote upon their ears from the depths of the abyss. The sound, though not particularly loud, was so startling, echoing and reverberating, as it did, among the cavernous recesses far below, that the work was brought to a sudden standstill, and the three bewildered men felt their hair bristling as they listened.

“What, in Heaven’s name, can it be?” ejaculated the skipper as he turned his startled gaze upon Lance.

“Impossible to say,” answered the latter. “One thing, however, is certain; nohumanlungs could possibly give utterance to such a sound. And yet I don’t know; the echoes of the place may have the property of magnifying and prolonging it. Hillo, there! is there anyone below?” he continued, raising his torch aloft and peering with craned neck down into the black depths of the chasm.

There was no response. And the light of the torch was quite inadequate to the illumination of more than a few feet from the surface.

“It is possible that, if thereisanyone down there, he may be unable to hear me. Soundrises, you know. Here, Bowles, come across to this side. We will unite our voices and see if that will evoke any response,” said Lance.

Bowles scrambled nimbly along the narrow and dangerous pathway, which, having traversed it so often, now had no terrors for any of them, and speedily joined the others.

“Now,” said Lance, “I will count three, and then we will all shout together, ‘Hillo!’ One, two, three—Hillo!”

The cry went pealing away right and left of them along the dark gallery, the echoes taking it up and tossing it wildly from side to side, up and down, until it seemed as though every rock in the vast cavern had found a voice with which to mock them; but no answering cry came from below.

“There is no one there,” said Lance. “Indeed therecanbe no one there; nobody has been missed, and—”

“Hark! what was that?”

A long-drawn sobbing sigh, such as a child will utter after it has cried itself to sleep, but very much louder; and immediately afterwards a gust of hot air, which brought with it a distinct odour of sulphur, swept past them down the gallery.

“God of mercy! can it be possible?” ejaculated Lance. “Yes, it must be. Fly for your lives; we may not have a moment to lose.”

“What is it?” gasped Captain Staunton, as the three started at a run up the gallery in the direction of the great cavern.

“Avolcano,” answered Lance. “There are subterranean fires in activity at no great depth beneath our feet, and they may break into open eruption at any moment.”

This was enough; his companions wanted to hear no more. The few words they had already heard lent wings to their feet, and in an incredibly short time they found themselves, panting and exhausted with their unwonted exertions, once more in the open air.

“Now we are comparatively safe,” said Lance as they walked rapidly down the ravine. “What I chiefly feared was one of those earthquake shocks such as sometimes precede a volcanic eruption. A comparatively insignificant one might have proved sufficient to cause the walls of the cavern to collapse and bury us. Of course the ladies must be cautioned not to venture near the place again; but I think perhaps it will be better not to tell them why. It will only alarm them—perhaps unnecessarily—and keep them on the tiptoe of nervous anxious expectancy. The better plan will be to say that we consider we have now as much gold as we think it probable we shall be able to take away. Don’t you think so, Staunton?”

“Assuredly I do,” answered the skipper emphatically. “Why, I would not allow my wife to enter that cavern again for all the gold it contains.”

They reached the cottage without further adventure; and on the following morning the ladies were told by Captain Staunton that, sufficient gold having now been collected, there would be no further necessity for them to continue their visits to the cavern, which, moreover, Mr Evelin considered unsafe, the peculiar noises which had startled them all being in his opinion an indication of its liability to collapse at any moment.

After this a month passed away unmarked by anything worthy of record, except the ever-increasing insolence and tyranny of Ralli toward our unfortunate friends.

The battery was by this time complete, the guns mounted, and the ammunition stored in its magazine; whilst the schooner was also in a very forward state. She was fully planked, decks laid, the ballast stowed, bulwarks and hatchways completed, her bottom coppered up to the load water-line, her hull outside painted with a coat of priming, and the carpenters, assisted by the handiest men they could pick out, were busy finishing off the fittings of the cabin and forecastle. Lance had been anxiously watching for a favourable opportunity to put into operation Dickinson’s suggestion as to the mode in which Ralli should be approached in order to secure the completion of the work in the manner most favourable to their own plans, but hitherto no such opportunity had presented itself. This was peculiarly unfortunate, as the work was now in so forward a state that, whenever Ralli opened his mouth, he expected to hear the dreaded order given for the preparation of the ways and the construction of the cradle for launching.

But at length the coveted opportunity came. It was about nine o’clock in the morning when Lance saw Ralli step out of his gig on to the rocky platform at the lower end of the shipyard and walk straight toward the schooner. The Greek paused at a little distance from where Lance was at work, taking up a position from which he could obtain a favourable view of the vessel’s beautifully modelled hull and gracefully sweeping lines; and then, with one eye shut, he began a critical scrutiny of her, shifting his position a few inches occasionally in order to test the perfection of the various curves.

“Now,” Lance thought, “is my time. I must tackle him at once, whatever comes of it; it will never do to defer the matter any further. Another hour’s delay may upset all our plans.”

So, throwing down his tools, he stepped up to Ralli and said—

“I want to speak to you about the launch. We have now done nearly all that wecando to the schooner whilst she remains on the stocks, and our next job will be to lay down the ways and—”

Ralli turned suddenly upon him with an evil gleam and glitter in his eyes which spoke volumes as to the envy and hatred he bore to this man, who, though a prisoner and practically a slave, still revealed in every word and gesture his vast and unmistakable superiority to every other man on the island, its ruler included.

“Aha! mister soldier,” he said—using the mode of address which, for some reason known only to himself, he deemed most offensive to Lance—his lips curling into a sneering smile as he spoke, “what are you doing away from your work? Go back to it at once, unless you wish me to start you with a rope’s-end as I would an unruly boy.”

“I have no work to go back to,” said Lance; “I am simply wasting my time at present, and I wanted to learn your wishes as to what is to be done next I presume you will have the craft launched forthwith, as she is now ready to take to the water; and I should be glad to know what timber we are to use for the ways.”

“You presume I will have the craft launched at once,” repeated Ralli, the spirit of opposition rising strong within him, and the sneer upon his lips growing more bitter with every word he uttered. “Why should you presume any such thing, eh, you sare?”

“Because it is the right and proper thing to do,” answered Lance. “Every lubber knows that a ship is launched before she is rigged. Besides, if you were to decide upon having the spars stepped and rigged, the stores stowed, and the guns hoisted in before she leaves the stocks, I should have a lot of extra trouble in calculating the proper distribution of the weights so as to ensure her being in proper trim when she takes to the water, and I want to avoid all that if possible.”

The Greek grinned with vindictive delight as he listened to this apparently inadvertent admission on Lance’s part. It revealed to him, as he thought, a new and unexpected method of inflicting annoyance upon this man whom he hated so thoroughly, and his eyes fairly sparkled with malice as he answered—

“What do you suppose I care about your extra trouble, you lazy skulking hound? I tell you this: I will have every spar stepped, rigged, and put in its place; the running rigging all rove; every sail bent; every gun mounted; the magazine stowed; the stores and water all put on board; and everything ready for the schooner to go straight out to sea from the stocks, before she leaves them. Poole! Dickinson!”—to the two chums who were working at no great distance—“come here and listen to what I say. This stupid fellow—this soldier who thinks himself a sailor—says that the schooner ought to be launched at once.Isay that she shall be finished ready for sea before she leaves the stocks; and I place you, Dickinson, in charge of the work to see that my orders are obeyed. This fellow will no longer give any orders; he will be only a common workman; he will obey you in future, or you will freshen his way with a rope’s-end. You understand?”

“Ay, ay,” answered Dickinson, “I understands yer, Ralli, and I’ll do it too, never fear,”—with a scowl at Lance for Ralli’s benefit. “Why, the man must be a fool—a perfect fool—not to see as it’d be ever so much easier to get things aboard now than when she’s afloat. Now, you”—turning to Lance—“you just top your boom and git away back to your work at once, and don’t let me see no more skulking or you’d better look out.”

Lance simply shrugged his shoulders, as was his habit whenever he received any insolence from the members of the “Brotherhood,” and, turning on his heel, walked back to his work, secretly exulting in the complete success of his manoeuvre.

Dickinson looked after him contemptuously for a moment or two, and then, his face clouding, he remarked—

“Arter all, I wish I hadn’t spoke quite so rough to him; the chap’s got his head screwed on the right way; he knows a mortal sight of things as I don’t understand, and I’d ha’ been glad to ha’ had his help and adwice like in many a little job, as I’m afeared we’ll make a bit of a bungle of without him.”

“That is all right,” said Ralli. “You shall be able to talk him over, Dickinson. Be a bit civil to him and he will tell you all that you will want to know. Leave the—what you call?—the bullying to me; I shall take the care that he enough has of that.”

And now—on that same morning, and only an hour or two after the conversation just recorded—there occurred an unfortunate incident which completely dissipated Lance’s exultation, filling him with the direst and most anxious forebodings, and threatening to utterly upset the success of all their carefully arranged plans.

It happened thus. Some timber was required by the carpenters on board the schooner; and Dickinson, eager to properly play his part in the presence of the Greek—who was standing close by—ordered Lance and Captain Staunton to bring up a large and heavy plank which he pointed out. They accordingly shouldered it, and, staggering under the load, proceeded upon their way, which led them close past the spot where Ralli stood. As they were passing him it unfortunately happened that Lance stepped upon a small spar, which, rolling under his feet, caused him to stagger in such a way that the plank struck Ralli full in the mouth, knocking away three or four teeth and cutting open both lips. The fellow reeled backwards with the severity of the blow, but, recovering himself, whipped out his long knife, and, pale as death with passion, rushed upon Lance. Captain Staunton saw what was about to happen, and shouted in warning, “Look out, Evelin!” flinging the plank to the ground at the same instant in such a way as to momentarily check the rush of the Greek. Lance at the call turned round, and was just in time to save himself from an ugly blow by catching Ralli’s uplifted arm in his left hand. The pirate, lithe and supple as a serpent, writhed and twisted in Lance’s grasp in his efforts to get free, but it was all in vain; he was helpless as a child in the iron grasp of the stalwart soldier, and he was at length compelled to fling his knife to the ground and own himself vanquished.

But no sooner was he once more free than, calling to his aid a dozen of the most ruffianly of his band, he ordered them to seize Lance and the skipper, and to lash them hand and foot until the irons could be brought and riveted on.

This was done; and an hour afterwards, to the grief and consternation of all concerned in the plan of escape, the two to whom they chiefly looked for its success were marched off to the “Black Hole,” each man’s ankles being connected together by a couple of close-fitting iron bands and two long fetter-links.

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