Latitude 19 degree Part 24

The young man started and looked uneasily at the group.

"Let Lord George Trevelyan drink to the health of the Admiral of the Red!" roared Captain Jonas in his burly voice.

The young Englishman started again slightly, but did not advance.

Captain Jonas fired a volley of oaths at the boy. He then drew his pistol from his belt and levelled it at the head of the young Englishman, who did not wince. This seemed to make the wretch think better of his purpose, for he fired the weapon into the jorum instead.

The liquor splashed and spouted up in jets, whereupon the Admiral shouted in his thread of voice:

"Light it up! light it up! Give it life! give it life!"

Several pistols were held close to the liquor and discharged into the inflammable ma.s.s, but it remained for one of the most zealous members of the crew to ignite the fluid with his flint, which he struck with success. The fumes flamed high and lighted up the cavern, shadowing the buccaneers upon the walls in a thousand fantastic shapes.

"Fill up! fill up!" squeaked the Admiral of the Red. The band crowded round the bowl, and dipped the liquid fire from its glowing surface.

Then they drank, as did their leader.

"A song! a song!" roared Captain Jonas.

"Where is Mauresco? Handsome Mauresco? He has a pretty pipe. Bring Mauresco. No one can sing like Mauresco."

"Mauresco! No one can sing like Mauresco!"

"You'll never hear his pretty pipe again, thank G.o.d!" whispered I in the Bo's'n's ear.

"Where can he be?" roared Captain Jonas; "and Wiggins and the Turk?"

"So it was the Turk and Wiggins who went to keep Mauresco company," said I again softly in the Bo's'n's ear.

"An' a murderous pair they was, sir, Mr. Jones, if ever I saw such,"

answered the Bo's'n.

"A song, meanwhile, good Jonas," squeaked the Admiral. "A song! You sing a stave nearly as well as Mauresco. Sing----"

"I'll choose my song myself," said Jonas gruffly, "or I won't sing at all. It was sung in Ned England's day. Brave Ned England!"

"Choose it, then," said the Admiral hotly, "but sing it. Get one with a chorus, mind you, one with a chorus! We all like to roar a jolly chorus, hey, my lads?"

"We do! we do! The Admiral has spoke our minds, we do!" shouted the band in ragged unison.

Captain Jonas emptied his gla.s.s, limped to the table where the Admiral was seated, hitched himself up on the corner, crossed the leg fas.h.i.+oned by human hands over that made by his Creator, and with fingers clasped held it there, as if he feared that it would walk off by itself. He then opened a mouth more renowned for size than beauty, and sang that song with which I have often sung you, when you were my little Adoniah, to sleep, when mother had gone to Wednesday evening meeting. I am good at catching a tune, and perhaps some of the words I have supplied; but I am sure that for villainy mine could never equal the viciousness of the words which issued from the lips of plain Captain Jonas. This was the song that he sang:

[Ill.u.s.tration: (Music) "AS I WAS A-SAILIN' DOWN MALABAR COAST."]

MALABAR COAST.

As I was a-sailin' down Malabar coast, I spies a fair wessel, a-lee, a-lee, Of gallant good riggin' and sticks did she boast.

We filled up our gla.s.ses and gave her a toast, For soon she'd belong, sir, to we, to we, For soon she'd belong, sir, to we.

She signalled her name, and she ran up a rag Of warious bright colours to see, to see.

We didn't wait long, but without any brag, We hoisted the Cross Bones, the jolly Black Flag, And merrily sailed down a-lee, a-lee, And merrily sailed down a-lee.

We gave her a shot or two over the bows, The wind moaned aloft and a-low, a-low; We was down on our luck, and our spirits to rouse, We started right in for a jolly carouse Aboard of a wessel you know, all know, Her name was the "Cadogan Snow."

We piled up her silks and her wines on the decks As high as my head, sir, and higher, much higher, And when we had made her the sweetest of wrecks, We stopped all their mouths by just slitting some necks And took every thing that a gent could desire, Then set the old barco afire.

We forced some sweet ladies fair over the side, With many a jest and a lively prank.

To old Davy Jones each relinquished his bride, And when they bewailed 'em, and mournfully cried, We started 'em out on a wery long plank-- They moaned and they groaned as they sank.

Captain Jonas sang with spirit. When he reached the fifth line he waved his hands above his head, thus releasing his wooden leg, which waved also in midair. The rest joined in with a good will, and sang both the fifth and sixth line with so great a noise that I feared not only would they awaken Cynthia, but Mauresco, Wiggins, and the Turk as well.

"That was the song Ned England used to sing. Brave Ned England! Merry Ned England!" squeaked the Admiral of the Red. "We shall never look on his like in this world. He was a dare-devil dog, if ever there was one!"

I watched young Trevelyan as he stood alone, pale and dejected. When the chorus had ended, the Admiral's thin voice was heard saying:

"A shooting bout! a shooting bout!" The lad winced and closed his eyes.

But it was not yet time for his torture to begin.

"Turn me round! turn me round!" was the Admiral's next order. "I'll lead off."

Several of the Admiral's followers ran to twist him in the right direction, which we found to be a position in which he faced the niches where the skeletons hung.

"You see Sir Evylyn Wulbur's left eye?" questioned the Admiral. "The left eye for a thousand pounds!"

"A thousand pounds! a thousand pounds!" shouted the band. Crack! went the ball. There was a slight tremor of the frame, but the s.h.i.+ning skull remained apparently uninjured.

"A fine shot!" said Captain Jonas. "Try the right eye, Admiral."

"The right eye," said the Admiral, complying readily.

Crack! again. And through the right eye sped the unerring bullet. It flattened against the wall, and dropped with a c.h.i.n.k to the floor of the niche.

"Don't want to riddle that head at the back," said Jonas. "Try another skull. The next man!"

Other marksmen levelled their weapons at other figures, and showed proof of skill such as I had never even imagined. One bullet only failed. It crushed in a skull between the eyes.

"Put him out! put him out!" squeaked the Admiral. "He's ruined the Chief Justice for life!" At this witty sally there was a great roar. I wondered that the figures still stood, each one in his niche. I could not understand why this was so, or why they had not long ago fallen to the floor of the cave. When the disgraced marksman was thrust outside the archway, Captain Jonas slid down from his seat and limped to the centre of the hall. He bowed low to young Trevelyan, with a certain sort of sneering deference which persons of his cla.s.s usually feel for men of higher station.

"Would Lord Trevelyan like to try his hand at this very pretty game?" he asked.

The lad raised his eye, in which at once there appeared a gleam of hope.

He thrust out his hand for the weapon.

The Admiral laughed in his high key.

"No, no!" he said. "That was not the meaning of Captain Jonas, plain Captain Jonas. He meant to reverse the order of things. He meant to inquire if Lord George Trevelyan would like to stand as a target. I promise you, my lord, you need feel no fear. We can shoot all round your body. Put a bullet so close to your left ear that it will deafen you for a week. Put one so close to your right ear that it will snap the drum merely from the concussion of the air. We will cut your pockets off one after the other, and touch neither your heart, your lights, or your liver. I myself can score a pathway through those golden curls on top of your very handsome head and never touch the scalp. I can--Why, what's the matter with the young lord? Chicken-livered, hey, my lord, hey?"

Trevelyan made no reply, but dropped his head lower upon his breast.

The Admiral drained his cup and handed it to one of the men that it might be replenished at the flaming bowl.