Black Bartlemy's Treasure Part 24

"Who are you?"

"'Tween-decks boy."

"How old are you, child?"

At this he stared up at me out of his swollen eyes, then covering his face in ragged sleeve broke into convulsive sobbing.

"What now?" says I, drawing him beside me. "What now?"

"She used to call me 'child'--my mother--" and here his grief choked him. Now as I looked down upon this little, pitiful creature, I forgot my sickness in sudden, fierce anger.

"Boy," said I, "who's been flogging you--speak!"

"Red Andy," he gasped, "'e be always a' doin' of it 'e be--wish I was dead like my mother!"

"Jim, ho Jimmy," roared a voice from somewhere in the gloom forward, "Jim--plague seize ye, show a leg, will 'ee--" Here (and before I could stay him) the boy started up and pattered away drying his tears as he ran. Now as I lay there I kicked off my shoes and hearkened expectant. Thus, all at once I heard a murmur rising to a wail that ended in a shrill scream, and getting to my feet I crept stealthily forward. Past main and foremasts I crept, past dark store-rooms and cubby-holes, and so to a crack of light, and clapping my eye thereto, espied two fellows rolling dice and beyond them the boy, his hands lashed miserably to a staple in the bulkhead, his little body writhing under the cruel blows of a rope's-end wielded by a great, red-headed fellow.

Now in my many desperate affrays with my fellow-slaves (those two-legged beasts) I had learned that it is the first blow that tells; wherefore groping for the latch I stealthily opened the door and, or ever the red-headed fellow was aware, I was upon him from behind and, giving him no chance for defence, I smote him a buffet under the ear that tumbled him against the bulkhead whence he sank to hands and knees. Then while, half-dazed, he strove to rise, I kicked him down again, and setting my foot upon his chest, caught up the rope's-end he had dropped and beat him therewith until he roared, until he groaned and lay writhing, face hid beneath his crossed arms. Then, whipping out my knife, I fronted his two mates, the one a doleful, bony man with a squint, the other a small, mean, black-eyed fellow in a striped s.h.i.+rt who, closing one bright eye, leered at them with the other; all at once he nodded, and pointing from the knife in my fist to the fellow groaning beneath my foot, drew a long thumb across his own stringy throat, and nodded again. Hereupon I stooped above my captive and set the flat of my blade to his forehead just below his thick, red hair.

"Look'ee, dog!" I panted, while he glared up at me beneath his bruised arms, "Set so much as a finger on yon pitiful brat again and I'll cut a mark in your gallows-face shall last your life out."

"His throat, cully--quick's the word!" breathed a voice in my ear. But now as I turned and the little black-eyed fellow leapt nimbly back, was a creaking and groaning of the ladder that led to the main-deck above, and down comes a pair of prodigious stout legs, and after these a round body, and last of all a great, flat face small of mouth, small of nose, and with a pair of little, quick eyes that winked and blinked betwixt hairless lids.

The fat fellow having got him down the ladder (and with wondrous ease for one of his bulk) stood winking and blinking at me the while he patted one of his plump cheeks with plump fingers.

"Love my limbs!" says he in soft, high-pitched voice. "Perish and plague me, but who's the friend as be a rope's-ending o' ye, Andy lad--you as be c.o.c.k o' the s.h.i.+p?" Here the fellow beneath my foot essays to curse, but groans instead. "Bless my guts!" says the fat man, blinking harder than ever, "So bad as that, Andy lad? Wot then, hath this fine, upstanding c.o.c.k o' c.o.c.ks thrashed all the h.e.l.l-fire spirit out o' ye, Andy lad? Love my innards--I thought no man aboard could do as much, Andy."

"He jumped me from behind!" says the fellow Andy 'twixt snarl and groan and writhing under my 'prisoning feet.

"And where," says the fat man, smiling at me, "where might you ha' come from, my bird o' price? The bo'sun's mate Samuel Spraggons is me, friend--Sam for short, called likewise Smiling Sam--come, come, never scowl on Sam--n.o.body never quarrels with the Smiler, I'm friends wi'

everyone, I am, friend."

"Why then--loose the child!" says I.

"Child? Ha, is't this little rogueling ye mean, friend?" As he spoke (and smiling yet) he caught the boy's ear and wrung it 'twixt vicious thumb and finger, whereon I whirled the rope's-end, but he sprang out of reach with wondrous agility and stood patting plump cheek and smiling more kindly than ever, the while I cut the cords that bound the boy's wrists, who, with an up-flung, wondering look at me, sped away into the orlop and was gone.

"Now mark ye, Spraggons," says I, "harm the child again--any of ye--and I'll beat your fat carca.s.s to a jelly."

"No, no!" quoth he, "you can't quarrel wi' me, the Smiler don't never quarrel wi' none. You'd never strike Smiling Sam, friend!"

"Stand still and see!" says I. But hereupon he retreated to the ladder and I, feeling my sickness upon me again, contented me by throwing the rope's-end at the fellow and stepping out backward, clapped to the door. So with what speed I might I got me down into the hold and to my dog-hole. And here I saw I had left my lanthorn burning, and found in this light strange comfort. Now being mighty athirst I reached the demijohn from the corner and drank deep, but the good water tasted ill on my parched tongue; moreover the place seemed strangely close and airless and I in great heat, wherefore I tore off my sleeved doublet and, kicking off my shoes, cast myself upon my miserable bed. But now as I lay blinking at the lanthorn I was seized of sudden, great dread, though of what I knew not; and ever as my drowsiness increased so grew my fear until (and all at once) I knew that the thing I dreaded was Sleep, and fain would I have started up, but, even then, sleep seized me, and strive how I would my eyes closed and I fell into deep and fear-haunted slumber.

CHAPTER XVII

TELLETH HOW AN EYE WATCHED ME FROM THE DARK

It is not my intention to chronicle all those minor happenings that befell us at this time, lest my narrative prove over-long and therefore tedious to the reader. Suffice it then that the fair weather foretold by G.o.dby had set in and day by day we stood on with a favouring wind.

Nevertheless, despite calm weather and propitious gale, the disaffection among the crew waxed apace by reason of the great black s.h.i.+p that dogged us, some holding her to be a b.l.o.o.d.y pirate and others a phantom-s.h.i.+p foredooming us to destruction.

As to myself, never was poor wretch in more woeful plight for, 'prisoned in the stifling hold where no ray of kindly sun might ever penetrate, and void of all human fellows.h.i.+p, I became a prey to wild, unholy fancies and a mind-sickness bred of my brooding humours; my evil thoughts seemed to take on stealthy shapes that haunted the fetid gloom about me, shapes of horror and murder conjured up of my own vengeful imaginations. An evil time indeed this, of long, uneasy sleepings, of hateful dreams and ill wakings, of sullen humours and a horror of all companions.h.i.+p, insomuch that when came G.o.dby or Adam to supply my daily wants, I would hide myself until they should be gone; thereafter, tossing feverishly upon my miserable bed, I would brood upon my wrongs, hugging to myself the thought of vengeance and joying in the knowledge that every hour brought me the nearer its fulfilment.

And now it was that I became possessed of an uneasy feeling that I was not alone, that beyond my crazy door was a thing, soft-breathing, that lurked watchful-eyed in the gloom, hearkening for my smallest movement and following on soundless feet whithersoever I went. This unease so grew upon me that when not lost in fevered sleep I would lie, with breath in check, listening to such sounds as reached me above the never-ceasing groaning of the vessel's labour, until the squeak and scutter of some rat hard by, or any unwonted rustling beyond the door, would bring me to an elbow in sweating panic.

To combat the which sick fancies it became my custom to steal up from my fetid hiding-place at dead of night and to prowl soft-footed about the s.h.i.+p where none stirred save myself and the drowsy watch above deck. None the less (and go where I would) it seemed I was haunted still, that behind me lurked a nameless dread, a silent, unseen presence. Night after night I roamed the s.h.i.+p thus, my fingers clenched on the knife in my girdle, my ears on the strain and eyes that sought vainly every dark corner or patch of shadow.

At last, on a night, as I crouched beside a gun on the 'tween-decks I espied of a sudden a shape, dim and impalpable-seeming in the gloom, that flitted silently past me and up the ladder to the deck above. Up started I, knife in hand, but in my haste I stumbled over some obstacle and fell; but up the ladder I sprang in pursuit, out into moonlight, and hastening forward came face to face with Adam.

"Ha-rogue!" I cried, and sprang at him with up lifted knife; but as I came he stepped aside (incredibly quick) and thrusting out a foot tripped me sprawling.

"Easy, s.h.i.+pmate, easy!" says he, thrusting a pistol under my nose.

"Lord love you, Martin, what would you now?"

"So you'll follow me, will you!" I panted. "You'll creep and crawl and spy on me, will you?"

"Neither one nor t'other, Martin."

"'Twas you climbed the gangway but now!"

"Not I, Martin, not I." And as I scowled up at him I knew he spoke truth, and a new fear seized me.

"And you saw no one, Adam? Nothing--no shape that flitted up the ladder hitherwards and no sound to it?"

"Never a thing, Martin, save yourself."

"Why then," says I, clasping my temples, "why then--I'm mad!"

"How so, comrade?"

"Because I'm followed--I'm watched--spied upon sleeping and waking!"

"Aye, but how d'ye know?" he questioned, stooping to peer at me.

"I feel it--I've known it for days past, and to-night I saw it. I'm haunted, I tell you!"

"Who by, s.h.i.+pmate?"

"Aye!" I cried. "Who is it--what? 'Tis a thing that flits i' the dark and with never a sound, that watches and listens. It mounted the ladder yonder scarce a moment since plain to my sight--"

"Yet I saw nothing, Martin. And not a soul stirring, save the watch forward, the steersman aft, and myself."

"Why then I'm verily mad!" says I.

"Not you, s.h.i.+pmate, not you. 'Tis nought but the solitude and darkness, they take many a man that way, so ha' done with 'em, Martin!

My lady's offer of employ yet holdeth good, so 'list with me as master's mate, say but the word and--"

"No!" says I, fiercely. "Come what may I take no service under an accursed Brandon!" Saying which I got me to my feet and presently back to the haunted dark.