Black Bartlemy's Treasure Part 23

"Little enough, Mart'n. Joel be no talker--but it do seem Jo was one of the Coast-Brotherhood once when Cap'n Penfeather saved his life and that, years agone. So Joel comes home and sets up marriage, free-trade and what not, when one day lately Master Adam walks into the 'Peck o'

Malt,' and no whit changed for all the years save his white hair. And here comes rain, Mart'n--"

"And wind!" says I as the stout s.h.i.+p reeled and plunged to the howling gust.

"No, Mart'n," roared G.o.dby above the piping tumult, "not real wind, pal--a stiffish breeze--jolly capful."

Slowly the night wore away and therewith the buffeting wind gentled somewhat; gradually in the east was a pale glimmer that, growing, showed great, black ma.s.ses of torn cloud scudding fast above our reeling mastheads and all about us a troubled sea. But as the light grew, look how I might, nowhere could I descry aught of any s.h.i.+p upon that vast horizon of foaming waters.

"Ha!" says G.o.dby, venting huge sigh, "there's to be no play for my guns this day, Mart'n."

"Nay but," says I, mighty perplexed, "what's come of her? She could never have marked our change of course at the distance and 'twas black dark beside, and we bore no lights."

"Mayhap she smelt us, pal, as I said afore. Howbeit, 'tis beyond me, cram me wi' rope-yarn else!"

Now, as he spoke, up came the sun, turning lowering sky and tempestuous ocean to glory; every ragged cloud became as it were streaming banners enwrought of scarlet and gold, every foaming billow a rolling splendour rainbow-capped, insomuch that I stood awed by the very beauty of it all.

"I love the good, kind earth, Mart'n, wi' its green gra.s.s and flowers a' peep, 'tis a fair resting-place for a man when all's done and said, but yonder, pal--ah, there's glory for ye! Many's the time I've watched it, dawn and sunset, and, minding all the goodly s.h.i.+ps and the jolly lads as are a-sleeping down below, at such times, Mart'n, it do seem to me as if all the good and glory of 'em came aloft for eyes to see awhile--howbeit, 'tis a n.o.ble winding-sheet, pal, from everlasting to everlasting, amen! And by that same token the wind's veering, which meaneth a fair-weather spell, and I must trim. Meantime do you rouse Master Adam." And here, setting hands to mouth, G.o.dby roared high above the wind:

"Watch ho! Watch! Brace about--bowse away there!"

As I crossed the deck, up the p.o.o.p ladder comes Adam himself, his red seaman's bonnet tight-drawn about his ears and a perspective-gla.s.s under his arm. "'Tis as I thought, Martin," says he, pinching his chin and scowling away to leeward, "she changed course as we did."

"Nay but, Adam, how should she know we changed and the night so black?"

"Very easily, s.h.i.+pmate, by means of a light--"

"We bore no lights, Adam."

"None the less someone aboard this s.h.i.+p signalled yon black craft by means of a lanthorn, 'tis beyond doubt!"

"And why should she follow us, think ye?"

"Why am I a marked man, s.h.i.+pmate, why have I been dogged hither and yon across seas? Come into the coach and I'll tell ye a thing. G.o.dby!"

says he, coming where G.o.dby stood beside the steersman, "lay her on her old course. 'Tis Merrilees takes next watch, I think--tell him to warn me as soon as we raise her accursed topsails."

"What," says I, as we climbed from the lofty p.o.o.p, "you think she will dog us still, then?"

"I know it, Martin!" says he gloomily, and so brought me into a smallish cabin under the top-gallant p.o.o.p; here were bunks to larboard and starboard with a table mid-way furnished with calendars, charts, a cross-staff, an astrolabe, with globes and the like, while against the walls stood rows of calivers, musquetoons and fusees, set in racks very orderly. "Aye, s.h.i.+pmate," says he, noting my gaze, "every firelock aboard is either here or in the arm-chests i' the round-house below, and our powder is all stored well aft, by reason that I am a cautious man, d'ye see! Sit ye, Martin! Now as to this black s.h.i.+p--first of all she fouls us in the river, the which was no accident, Martin, though just what the motive was I'm yet a-seeking. Second, as she drifted past us whom should I see aboard her but Abnegation Mings and pulled trigger a moment too late, but winged another o' the rogues.

Third, when we'd repaired our damage and got us clear of the river what should we see but this same black s.h.i.+p hove short waiting us, for she presently stands after us. And so she's dogged us ever since and so dog us she will to the world's end unless I can bring her to action."

"She's a fighting s.h.i.+p by her looks and heavily armed!" says I.

"So are we, Martin!"

"And our men, Adam?"

"Ah!" says he, pinching his chin, "there it is, Martin, there it is!

Look'ee, s.h.i.+pmate, in all this crew there are no more than twenty men I can count on, nay, less--ten only can I swear by. See now, here's you and Merrilees and G.o.dby, here's Farnaby and Toby Hudd the bo'sun, Treliving the carpenter, and McLean his mate, here's Robins and Perks and Taffery the armourer--good mariners all. These I can trust, s.h.i.+pmate, but never another one!"

"And what of the captain, Sir Rupert Dering?"

"That, Martin!" says Penfeather, snapping his fingers. "A very gentleman-like fool, d'ye see, a bladder of air--like his three fellows."

"So we have four gentlemen aboard, Adam?"

"Aye--princ.o.c.ks all that do nothing but vie in court to her ladys.h.i.+p!

Now look'ee, Martin, what with one thing or another, and this h.e.l.l-fire s.h.i.+p on our heels in especial, there's stir and disaffection among the crew, a-whispering o' corners that I don't like, and which is apt to spread unless looked to. Wherefore this morning I ordered a certain red-haired rascal fifty lashes athwart a gun. But the bo'sun had laid on but poor ten and the fellow roaring l.u.s.tily when into the 'tween-decks cometh my lady in mighty taking, and seeing the rogue's back a little b.l.o.o.d.y, ordered him freed and thereafter cossets him wi'

dainties from her own table. Lord love ye! Which cometh o' women aboard s.h.i.+p!" And here Adam sighed mighty dismal.

"Why then," says I, "here's work for me, belike."

"As how, Martin?"

"Nay, leave it to me, being little better than rogue myself I should know how to outmatch roguery!"

"Meaning you'll spy on 'em, s.h.i.+pmate?"

"And lie and cozen and join fellows.h.i.+p with 'em if need be. Howbeit there's aught afoot I'll bottom it, one rascally fas.h.i.+on or t'other."

"'Tis desperate risk, Martin, and should they suspicion you--"

"Why, look, Adam, my life's none so sweet or precious that I'd cherish it in lavender. Besides I've a feeling I may not die until--at least, not yet."

"Wait!" says he, as I rose. "Bide a while, Martin!" And, opening a locker beneath his bunk, he took thence a s.h.i.+rt of fine chain-work like that he himself wore. Shaking my head I would have put it by but he caught my arm in his powerful grip and shook me insistent. "Take it, Martin," says he, "take it, man, 'tis easy and pleasant as any glove, yet mighty efficacious 'gainst point or edge, and you go where knives are sudden! Stay then, take it for my sake, s.h.i.+pmate, since trusty comrades be few and mighty hard come by." So in the end I did it on beneath my doublet and found it to irk me nothing. "And now, what?" he questioned, as I opened the door.

"Sleep," says I, yawning.

"There's a bunk yonder, Martin," says he, eyeing me 'twixt narrowed lids.

"Nay, I'm for my dog-hole, Adam."

"You seem to sleep much and mighty well, despite stench and rats, s.h.i.+pmate."

"I'm grown used to 'em," says I, with another yawn, "and as to sleeping I do little else of late--'tis the dark, belike, or bad air, or lack of exercise." Now as I rose to be gone, the deck seemed to heave oddly beneath my feet and the cabin to swing dizzily round, so that I must needs grip at the table to steady myself, while Adam peered at me through a haze as it were.

"What's here, Martin, are ye sick?" he questioned.

"A vertigo!" I mumbled, "I'll into the air!" In a little the dizziness abating, I got me out on deck and found in the rus.h.i.+ng wind mighty comfort and refreshment, while Adam steadied me with his arm. "Let be!" says I, shaking off his hold. "'Twas nought--I'll go sleep again." And waiting for no more I stumbled down the quarter-ladder; but even as I went, the haze seemed to close about me thicker than ever, and groping my way to the s.h.i.+p's side I sank across the bulwark and was miserably sick. This agony pa.s.sing, I made my way below until I reached the orlop; but now feeling my sickness upon me again I crept away into a dark corner and cast me down there. And lying thus in my misery I little by little became aware of someone weeping hard by, a desolate sobbing very pitiful to hear. Insomuch that (maugre my weakness) I got up and going whence this sobbing proceeded, presently came on a small, huddled figure, and stooping, saw it was a little lad.

At my step he started to his knees, elbow upraised as if expecting a blow.

"Why d'ye weep, boy?" I questioned. "What's your trouble?"

"Nowt!" says he, cowering away; but taking him by his little, thin shoulders I lifted him into the dim light of a swinging lanthorn, and looked into a small, pallid face swollen and disfigured by cuts and bruises wrought by some brutal hand.

"Who did this?" I demanded.

"n.o.body!" says he, gulping a sob.