Gascoyne, The Sandal-Wood Trader: A Tale of the Pacific by R. M. Ballantyne (read a book .TXT) 📖

Dick before leaving these waters? You know he let out that there is some island hereabout at which the pirates are wont to rendezvous. Perhaps by threats, if not by persuasion, he may be induced to tell us where it lies."

"True. I had forgotten that fellow altogether. Let him be sent for."

In a few minutes Surly Dick stepped on the quarter-deck and touched his cap. He did not appear to have grown less surly since his introduction on board the frigate. Discipline had evidently a souring effect on his temper.

"Your late comrades have escaped me," said the first lieutenant; "but you may depend upon it, I will catch the villains in the long run."

"It'll be a pretty long run before you do," remarked the man, sulkily.

Mulroy looked sternly at him. "You forget," said he, "that you are a prisoner. Let me advise you to be at least civil in your manner and tone. Whether the run shall be a long or a short one remains to be seen. One thing is pretty certain; namely, that your own run of life will be a very short one. You know the usual doom of a, pirate when he is caught."

Surly Dick moved uneasily. "I was made a pirate against my will," said he, in a still more sulky tone and disrespectful manner.

"You will find it difficult to prove that," returned Mulroy. "Meanwhile I shall put you in irons, and treat you as you deserve, until I can place you in the hands of the civil authorities."

Surly Dick stood first on one leg and then on the other; moved his fingers about nervously, and glanced in the lieutenant's face furtively. It was evident that he was ill at ease.

"I never committed murder, sir," said he, in an improved tone. "It wasn't allowed on board of the Avenger, sir. It's a hard case that a fellow should be made a pirate by force, and then be scragged for it, though he's done none o' the bloody work."

"This may be true," rejoined the lieutenant; "but, as I have said, you will find it difficult to convince your judges of it. But you will receive a fair trial. There is one thing, however, that will stand in your favor, and that is a full and free confession. If you make this, and give me all the information you can in order to bring your late comrades to justice, your judges will perhaps be disposed to view your case leniently."

"Wot more can I confess, sir?" said Dick, beginning to look a little more interested. "I've already confessed that I was made a pirate against my will, and that I've never done no murder; though I have plundered a little, just like the rest. As for helpin' to bring my comrades to justice, I only wish as I know'd how, and I'd do it right off, I would."

Surly Dick's expression of countenance when he said this was a sufficient guarantee that he was in earnest.

"There is an island somewhere hereabout," said the lieutenant, "where the pirates are in the habit of hiding sometimes, is there not?"

Surly Dick looked at his questioner slyly, as he replied, "There is, sir."

"Do you not think it very likely that they may have run there now,—that they may be there at this moment?"

"It's oncommon likely," replied Dick, with a grin.

"Can you direct me how to steer, in order to reach that island?"

Surly Dick's aspect changed. He became morose again, and looked silently at his feet for a few moments, as if he were debating something in his own mind. He was, in truth, perplexed; for, while he was extremely anxious to bring his hated comrades to justice, he was by no means so anxious to let the lieutenant into the secret of the treasures contained in the caverns of the Isle of Palms, all of which he knew would be at once swept hopelessly beyond his grasp if they should be discovered. He also reflected that if he could only manage to get his late companions comfortably hanged, and himself set free for having turned King's evidence against them, he could return to the island and abstract the wealth it contained by degrees. The brilliant prospect thus opened up to him was somewhat marred, however, by the consideration that some of the pirates might make a confession and let this secret be known, in which case his golden dreams would vanish. The difficulty of making up his mind was so great that he continued for some time to twist his fingers and move his feet uneasily in silence.

Mulroy observed the pirate's indecision, and, although he knew not its cause to the full extent, he was sufficiently acquainted with human nature to know that now was the moment to overcome the man, if he was to be overcome at all.

"Well, well," he said, carelessly; "I'm sorry to see you throw away your only chance. As for the information you refuse to give. I can do without it. Perhaps I may find some of your late comrades when we make the island, who will stand witness against you. That will do, my man; you may go. Mr. Geoffrey" (turning to a midshipman), "will you accompany that pirate forward, and see that he is put in irons?"

"But you don't know where the island is," said Surly Dick, anxiously, as the lieutenant was turning away.

Mulroy turned back: "No," said he; "but you ought to know that when a seaman is aware of the existence of an island, and knows that he is near it, a short time will suffice to enable him to find it."

Again he was about to turn away, when Dick cried out, "Stay, sir; will you stand by me if I show you the way?"

"I will not deceive you," said Mulroy bluntly. "If you show me how to steer for this island, and assist me in every way that you can to catch these villains, I will report what you have done, and the judges at your trial will give what weight they please to the facts; but if you suppose that I will plead for such a rascal as you are, you very much mistake me."

A look of deep hatred settled on the pirate's countenance as he said, briefly, "Well, I'll show you how to steer."

Accordingly, Surly Dick, after being shown a chart, and being made aware of the exact position of the ship, ordered the course to be altered to "north-half-east." As this was almost dead in the eye of the light breeze that was blowing the Talisman had to proceed on her course by the slow process of tacking.

While she was in the act of putting about on one of these tacks, the look-out reported "a boat on the lee bow."

"Boat on the lee bow!" was passed from mouth to mouth, and the order was immediately given to let the frigate fall off. In another moment, instead of ploughing her way slowly and doggedly to windward, the Talisman ran swiftly before the breeze toward a dark object which at a distance resembled a boat with a mast and a small flag flying from it.

"It is a raft, I think," observed the second lieutenant, as he adjusted the telescope more perfectly.

"You are right; and I think there is some one on it," said Mulroy. "I see something like a man lying on it; but whether he is dead or alive I cannot say. There is a flag, undoubtedly; but no one waves a handkerchief or a rag of any kind. Surely, if a living being occupied the raft, he would have seen the ship by this time. Stay; he moves! No; it must have been imagination. I fear that he is dead, poor fellow. Stand by to lower a boat."

The lieutenant spoke in a sad voice; for he felt convinced that he had come too late to the aid of some unfortunate who had died in perhaps the most miserable manner in which man can perish.

Henry Stuart did indeed lie on the raft a dead man to all appearance. Towards the evening of his third day, he had suffered very severely from the pangs of hunger. Long and earnestly had he gazed round the horizon, but no sail appeared. He felt that his end was approaching, and, in a fit of despair and increasing weakness, he fell on his face in a state of half-consciousness. Then he began to pray, and gradually he fell into a troubled slumber.

It was while he was in this condition that the Talisman hove in sight. Henry had frequently fallen into this species of sleep during the last few hours, but he never continued in it long; for the pains of thirst, as well as hunger, now racked his frame. Nevertheless, he was not much reduced in strength or vigor. A long, slow process of dying would have still lain before the poor youth, had it been his lot to perish on that raft.

A delightful dream came over him as he lay. A rich banquet was spread before him. With wolfish desire he grasped the food, and ate as he never ate before. Oh! it was a rare feast, that! Each morsel was delicious; each draught nectar. But he could not devour enough. There was a strange feeling in him that he could by no means eat to satisfaction.

While he was thus feasting in dreams, the Talisman drew near. Her bulwarks were crowded with faces gazing earnestly at the bit of red rag that fluttered in the breeze, and the pile of loose spars on which the man's form lay extended and motionless.

Suddenly Henry awoke, with a start, to find that his rich banquet was a terrible delusion; that he was starving to death; and that a large ship was hove to within a few yards of him!

Starting up on his knees, he uttered a wild shriek. Then, as the truth entered his soul, he raised his hand and gave a faint cheer.

The revulsion of feeling in the crew of the Talisman was overpowering. A long, loud, tremendous cheer burst from every heart!

"Lower away!" was shouted to the men who stood at the fall-tackles of the boat.

As the familiar sounds broke on Henry's ears, he leaped to his feet, and, waving his hand above his head, again attempted to cheer; but his voice failed him. Staggering backwards, he fell fainting into the sea.

Almost at the same instant, a man leaped from the bulwark of the frigate, and swam vigorously towards the raft. It was Richard Price, the boatswain of the frigate. He reached Henry before the boat did, and, grasping his inanimate form, supported him until it came up and rescued them both. A few minutes later Henry Stuart was restored to consciousness, and the surgeon of the frigate was administering to him such restoratives as his condition seemed to require.

CHAPTER XXVI. THE CAPTURE AND THE FIRE.

Eight days after the rescue of Henry Stuart from a horrible death, as related in the last chapter, the Talisman found herself, late in the afternoon, within about forty hours' sail of Sandy Cove.

Mulroy had visited the Isle of Palms, and found that the pirates had flown. The mate of the Avenger and his companions had taken advantage of the opportunity of escape afforded them by Gascoyne, and had hastily quitted their rendezvous, with as much of the most valuable portion of their booty as the boat could carry. As this is their last appearance in these pages, it may be as well to say that they were never again heard of. Whether they perished in a storm, or gained some distant land, and followed their former leader's advice,—to repent of their sins,—or again took to piracy, and continued the practise of their terrible trade under a more bloody-minded captain, we cannot tell. They disappeared as many a band of wicked men has disappeared before, and never turned up again. With these remarks, we dismiss them from our tale.

Surly Dick now began to entertain sanguine hopes that he would be pardoned, and that he would yet live to enjoy the undivided booty which he alone knew lay concealed in the Isle of Palms; for, now that he had heard Henry's account of the landing of Gascoyne on the island, he never doubted that the pirates would fly in haste from a spot that was no longer unknown to others, and that they would be too much afraid of being captured to venture to return to it.

It was, then, with a feeling of no small concern, that the pirate heard the lookout shout on the afternoon referred to, "Sail ho!"

"Where away?"

"On the lea beam."

The course of the frigate was at once changed, and she ran down towards the strange sail.

"A schooner, sir," observed the second lieutenant