Dick Leslie's Luck Part 22

"Well," answered Turnbull, "there's no particular reason for you to hurry; I s'pose half an hour 'll be about time enough for you to get your few traps together and bring 'em off, won't it?"

"Oh yes," answered Leslie, nonchalantly, "that time will amply suffice.

I will do so at once, if you like."

"There's no occasion for hurry, as I said just now," retorted Turnbull.

"Now that we're here I think I shall give the men a spell and let 'em have a run ash.o.r.e a bit. In fact, I think I could do with a week ash.o.r.e there myself. Most lovely place it looks like, from here. By-the-bye, how long did you say you'd been on that there island?"

"A trifle over nine months," answered Leslie.

"Over nine months!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed the other in tones of intense surprise.

"Well, n.o.body'd think as you'd been a castaway for nine months, to look at ye. Why, you look strong and healthy enough, and as smartly rigged as though you'd just stepped out of the most dandy outfitter's in the Minories!"

"Oh, but there is nothing very wonderful in that," laughingly protested Leslie. "Nine months of life, practically in the open air all the time, is just the thing to keep a man fit, you know; while as for my 'rig,' I found a big stock of clothes among the _Mermaid's_ cargo, and I have drawn freely upon that."

"Nine months on the island," repeated Turnbull, still dwelling upon that particular fact; "why, I s'pose you know every inch of the ground ash.o.r.e there by this time?"

There was a certain ill-suppressed eagerness in the tones of the man's voice as he asked this question that acted very much as a danger-signal to Leslie. It seemed to suggest that thus far the man had merely been fencing with him, but that he was now trying to get within his guard; that, in short, the object of the _Minerva's_ visit to the island was nearing the surface. He therefore replied, with studied carelessness--

"No, indeed I do not. On the contrary, I know very little of it--not nearly as much as I ought to know. I have been to the summit once, and took a general survey of the island from that point, and I have wandered for a short distance about the less densely bush-clad ground on this side of the island; but that is about all. The fact is that I was much too keen upon saving everything I possibly could out of the brig to think of wasting my time in wandering about an island the greater part of which is covered with almost impa.s.sable bush."

"Ah, yes; I s'pose you would be," rejoined Turnbull, with an expression of relief that set Leslie wondering.

What on earth did it matter to Turnbull whether he--d.i.c.k Leslie--had explored the island or not? he asked himself. Turnbull's next remark let in a little light upon the obscurity, and distinctly startled Leslie. For, staring steadfastly at the island, the burly man presently observed--

"Yes; it's a fine big island, that, and no mistake. With a mountain on it and all, too. I should say, now, that that island would be a very likely place for _caves_, eh? Looks as though there might be any amount of caves ash.o.r.e there in the sides of that there hill, don't it?"

_Caves_! Like a flash of lightning the true explanation of the _Minerva's_ visit stood clearly revealed to Leslie's mind. That one word "caves," spoken as it was in tones of mingled excitement and anxiety, ill-suppressed, had furnished him with the key to the entire enigma. _Caves_! Yes, of course; that was it; that explained everything--or very nearly everything--that had thus far been puzzling Leslie, and gave him practically all the information that he had been so anxious to acquire. He had read of such incidents in books, of course, but had so far regarded them merely as pegs whereon to hang a more or less ingeniously conceived and exciting romance; but here was a similar incident occurring in actual prosaic earnest; and he suddenly found himself confronted with a situation of exceeding difficulty. For the mention by Turnbull of the word "caves"--careless and casual as he fondly believed it to be, but actually exceedingly clumsy--had in an instant driven home to Leslie's mind the conviction that somehow or other this man had become possessed of information of the existence of the treasure on this island, _and had come to take it away_! By what circuitous chain of events the information had fallen into the fellow's hands it was of course quite impossible to guess; but that this was the explanation of everything d.i.c.k was fully convinced. And now that he possessed the clue he could not only guard his own tongue against the betrayal of information, but could also doubtless so order his remarks as to extort from some one or another of his visitors all the details that he himself might require. So, in reply to Turnbull's last remark, he said carelessly--

"Caves! oh, really I don't know; very possibly there may be--unless the earthquake has shaken them all in and filled them up--"

"Earthquake!" roared Turnbull, in tones of mingled rage and consternation; "you don't mean to say as you've had a hearthquake here, do ye?"

"Certainly," answered d.i.c.k, with as much _sang-froid_ as though an earthquake were a mere pleasant interlude in an otherwise monotonous life; "it occurred about three months ago, and gave the place a pretty severe shaking up, I can a.s.sure you. It also started that volcano into activity again after ages of quiescence."

"The mischief!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Turnbull, with manifest discomposure. "I must go ash.o.r.e at once!"

"I am afraid," said Leslie, gently, "that my mention of the earthquake and its possible effect upon the caves of the island has somewhat upset you. Are you going ash.o.r.e in the hope of finding any particular cave?

If so, I shall be most happy to a.s.sist you in your search."

"a.s.sist! I'll be--I mean of course not," exclaimed Turnbull, beginning with a savage bellow and suddenly calming himself again. "What d'ye s'pose a man like me wants to go pokin' about ash.o.r.e there, huntin'

after caves for? I've somethin' else to do. I've come in here because our fresh water's turned bad, and I thought that maybe I might be able to renew my stock, I s'pose there's fresh water to be had on the island?"

"Certainly," answered Leslie; "there is a most excellent supply, and quite accessible to your boats. It lies over there," pointing toward Mermaid Head; "and falls over a low ledge of rock into deep-water. You can go alongside the rock and fill up your boats or tanks direct, if you like."

"Ah, that'll do first-rate," remarked Turnbull; "I'll give orders for the men to start the foul water at once. And now, as I see that the sun's over the fore-yard, what'll you take to drink? I s'pose you've been pretty hard up all these months for drink, haven't ye?"

"No, indeed," answered Leslie; "on the contrary, I found an abundance of wines and spirits aboard the brig. The only thing that I have lacked has been mineral waters; therefore if you happen to have any soda-water on board it will give me great pleasure to take a whisky and soda with you."

"I believe we have some sodas left," answered Turnbull, doubtfully.

"You won't mind takin' it up here on the p.o.o.p, will ye?" he continued.

"Fact is there's a man lyin' sick in one of the cabins below, and I don't want to disturb him with our talk."

Of course Leslie, although he had his doubts about the genuineness of the "sick man" story, readily acquiesced in the suggestion of the other, and seated himself in one of two deck-chairs that were standing on the p.o.o.p, while Turnbull retired ostensibly for the purpose of quietly hunting up the steward.

A few minutes later the steward--a young c.o.c.kney of about twenty-five years of age, who had the worn, hara.s.sed appearance of a man living in a state of perpetual scare--came up the p.o.o.p ladder, bearing a tray on which were a couple of tumblers, an uncorked bottle of whisky, and two bottles of soda-water, which he placed upon the skylight cover. Then, taking up the whisky-bottle and a tumbler, he proceeded to pour out a portion of the spirit, glancing anxiously about him as he did so.

"Say 'when,' sir, please," he requested, in a loud voice, immediately adding under his breath, "Are you alone, ash.o.r.e there, sir, or is there others there along with you?"

His whole air of extreme trepidation, and the manner of secrecy with which he put this singular question, was but further confirmation--if any were needed--of certain very ugly suspicions that had been taking a strong hold upon Leslie during the whole progress of his interview with the man Turnbull; d.i.c.k therefore replied to the steward by putting another question to him in the same low, cautious tones--

"Why do you ask me that, my man?" he murmured.

"Because, sir, there's--Is that about enough whisky, sir?"

The latter part of the steward's speech was uttered in a tone of voice that could be distinctly heard as far forward as the break of the p.o.o.p, and, with the man's abrupt change of subject was evidently caused--as Leslie could see out of the corner of his eye--by the silent, stealthy appearance of Turnbull's head above the top of the ladder, and the glance of keen suspicion that he shot at the two occupants of the p.o.o.p.

d.i.c.k took the tumbler from the steward's shaking hand and calmly held it up before him, critically measuring the quant.i.ty of spirit it contained.

"Yes, thanks," he replied; "that will do nicely. Now for the soda."

And he held the tumbler while the steward opened the soda-water bottle and emptied it's effervescing contents into the spirit. Turnbull glanced keenly from Leslie to the steward and back again, but said nothing, although the unfortunate attendant's condition of terror was patent to all observers. d.i.c.k waited patiently while the trembling man helped Turnbull, and then, lifting his tumbler, said--

"Your health, Captain; and to our better acquaintance."

"Thank 'ee; same to you," gruffly replied the individual addressed; adding to the steward, "That'll do; you can go back to your pantry now, and get on with your work."

The fellow departed in double-quick time, obviously glad to get away from the neighbourhood of his somewhat surly superior; and as he went Turnbull watched him until he disappeared down the p.o.o.p ladder.

"Rum cove, that," he remarked to Leslie, as the man vanished. "Good sort of steward enough, but nervous as a cat. Did ye notice him?"

"It was quite impossible not to do so," answered d.i.c.k, with a laugh.

"And I could not help feeling sorry for the poor beggar. I take it that he is the simpleton of the s.h.i.+p, and that all hands make a point of badgering him."

"Ay," answered Turnbull, eagerly, clearly relieved that d.i.c.k had taken this view of the man's condition; "that's just exactly what it is; you've hit the case off to a haffigraphy. Well, enough said about him.

If you're ready to go ash.o.r.e now I'll go with ye."

"By all means," answered Leslie, genially; not that he was in the least degree desirous to have the man's company, or even that he or any of his crew should land upon the island at all. Still, he knew that, the barque being where she was, it was inevitable that at least some of the s.h.i.+p's company would insist upon going ash.o.r.e, and he could not see how he was to prevent them; meanwhile, it was much better to have the fellow alone with him than accompanied by half a dozen or more of his men.

As he spoke he rose from his seat and led the way toward the canoe, Turnbull following him. Upon reaching the gangway, however, d.i.c.k looked over the side, and then, turning to his companion, said--

"I think you would find it more convenient if your people rigged the side-ladder. My canoe is rather crank, and if you should happen to tumble overboard in getting into her I would not answer for your life; the lagoon swarms with sharks, and as likely as not there are one or two under the s.h.i.+p's bottom at this moment."

Turnbull grunted and turned away, looking forward to where two or three men were loafing about on the forecastle, hard at work doing nothing.

"For'ard, there!" he shouted; "rouse out the side-ladder and rig it, some of ye, and look sharp about it. Steward," he added, turning toward the cabin under the p.o.o.p, "bring me out a handful of cigars."

The two men with the ladder, and the steward with the cigars, appeared simultaneously; and, pocketing the weeds, the skipper proceeded to the gangway to supervise the rigging of the ladder. As he did so, Leslie felt something being thrust surrept.i.tiously into his hand. It felt like a folded piece of paper, and he calmly pocketed it, glancing casually about him as he did so. The steward was the only man near him, and he was shuffling off nimbly on his way back to his pantry.