CHAPTER IV.VILLAINY.
I wenton deck, to behold a night of calm and beauty. There was no moon; but the hosts of the stars burned in a clear element, upon a solemn ground, and I thought they were like gems in the mantle of God.
But, as I stood, leaning on the bulwarks, dreaming in the blue starlight, on a sudden a hand was laid on my shoulder, and a hearty voice cried:
“Wake up, young star-gazer! What are you dreaming of now? Wouldst know:
What worlds or what vast regions holdThe immortal mind that hath forsookHer mansion in this fleshy nook?”
What worlds or what vast regions holdThe immortal mind that hath forsookHer mansion in this fleshy nook?”
What worlds or what vast regions hold
The immortal mind that hath forsook
Her mansion in this fleshy nook?”
“What, old physicker!” (for ’twas Surgeon Burke), “‘Throw physic to the dogs, I’ll none of it!’”
He laughed boisterously at the return; then bade me follow him below, saying that the English castaway was coming out of his swoon. We went quickly to the master’s cabin, where the Englishman lay stretched upon a day-bed or settee. But, instead of the stark and deadly look he had before, his breast heaved to agentle respiration, his eyes were closed, and there was even a trace of colour in his hollow cheeks.
“When he wakes,” said Burke, “he’ll be recovered, and that will be no great while either.”
But in this point he was out; for the exhausted man continued in his babe-like sleep. At last, being perfectly tired out, I cast myself down upon the bedding on the floor, and took up my repose. Yet I could not presently sleep; for my thoughts were tumultuous and uneasy to the last degree, running continually upon those strange happenings—more especially upon the desire manifested by Ouvery to make away with the castaways and strange recognition of him by the Mosquito Indian. However, at last I slept.
It must have been upon the stroke of midnight that I woke up suddenly from an unquiet sleep, to hear the sound of stealthy footsteps in the gang-way without.
I listened, my heart beginning to thump upon my sides, my eyes upon the door. The handle turned slowly; the door was softly opened. Then, half-closing my eyes, I feigned slumber, as, vivid in moonshine cast through the port, the face of Ouvery appeared in the chink.
The Quartermaster stood peering and listening. He entered, and advanced on me; and there was a knife in his hand. Yet I continued to feign slumber, and, though near dead with terror, to make my breathing appear regular and slow.
At last he was at my side. I opened my eyesthen, ready to evade a deadly thrust, and lo! the man was passed by me and moving towards the Englishman on the bed. On that my nerve came back to me; the spell was broken.
I made one leap of it half across the cabin floor; and, as the Quartermaster, his face set in savage lines, his arm drawn back to thrust, bent over the slumbering Englishman, quick as light I snatched the pistol from his belt and set it close and firm to his ear.
“Drop your blade,” said I, “or I’ll fire.”
Ouvery was no craven, but, on touch of the iron muzzle, he started and dropped his knife. He held perfectly still, muttering something that I had no care to hear; and I bawled loud and repeatedly, “Help! Help!”
It was then that the Englishman came out of his swoon; and, rising up in his bed, “Where am I?” cried he. “What is this?”
“You are on the shipTiger,” replied I. “You were taken up from a driving boat—you with an Indian, who also is on the ship.”
“Ha! And this fellow?”
“He is the Quartermaster. He was about to murder you; I know not why.”
“O-ho!” cried he, “a mystery! I am even eager to fathom it. Turn hither, fellow, that I may look upon the majesty of your countenance. Turn hither, I say!”
But Ouvery, on a sudden, ducked his head; and, with incredible swiftness, whipped from the cabin, and was gone. Yet the other had got view of his face, and he cried:
“The pirate! ’Tis the pirate, by the Lord Harry!
“So I am fallen among thieves and murderers!” says he, turning to me with fine disdain. “Well, ’tis not the first time. You’re out on the account—heh?”
I was taken aback at this, and knew not what to answer. Yet something in his countenance told me he was a man I might trust. I resolved to tell him distinctly how it was with us; and, as briefly as possible, I did so.
He heard me out in silence, his keen eyes searching me.
“Why, here is a lad of mettle,” says he, “and—what should ever accompany this quality—of integrity. I thank you for your confidence reposed in me; it shall not miscarry. And now” (as I stood abashed by his courtly phrase) “and now for action!”
But, with the word, there came the tramp of men approaching, and the boatswain entered, having a lantern in one hand and a bare cutlash in the other; and close at his heels came my brother.
The boatswain stood still at the entry; but Dick thrust by him, and came forth into the cabin, asking what the matter was.
I left it to the Englishman to answer, and he did so.
“Look you, sir,” said he, rising on an elbow and speaking with hauteur, “I am, I suppose, beholden to you for my life. But to save a man from the sea, that he may be barbarously murdered in his bed—where is the obligation?”
“What means he?” asked Dick, turning to me.
I told him what had passed.
“Ouvery! Always Ouvery!” cried he. “What means the fellow? I begin to sicken of it! Curses on it!”
And, snapping his fingers in a passion, he rushed from the cabin.
The boatswain followed him out, muttering in his beard.