Commodore Junk

Chapter Thirty Two

The Explosion

A fortnight passed, during which the buccaneer visited his prisoner twice, as if to give him an opportunity to speak, but each time in company with Bart.

Both were very quiet and stern, and but few words were said. Everything was done to make the prisoner’s condition more endurable, but the attentions now were irksome; and though Humphrey Armstrong lay listening for footsteps with the greatest anxiety, those which came down the corridor were not those he wished to hear.

At last, in the continuous absence of Dinny, he began to dread that the last conversation had been heard, and after fighting down the desire for a fortnight, he determined to risk exciting suspicion and ask Bart what had become of the Irishman.

Bart entered the place soon after he had come to the determination, bringing an Indian basket of fruit – the pleasant little grapes that grew wild in the sunny parts, and the succulent banana. These he placed upon the stone table in company with a bunch of flowers, where they looked like some offering made to the idol upon whose altar they had been placed.

Humphrey hesitated with the words upon his lips, and checked himself. If Dinny had been overheard and were imprisoned or watched, what good would he do? Better wait and bear the suspense.

“Your gift?” he said, aloud, taking up the flowers and smelling them, for the soft delicate blooms of the forest orchids suggested a room in Saint James’s Square and a daintily-dressed lady who was bemoaning his absence.

“Mine? No. The captain picked them himself,” said Bart, bitterly.

Humphrey laid them down and took up one of the long, yellow-skinned fruits, Bart watching his action, regarding the fruit with jealous eyes.

Humphrey turned sharply round to hide his face from his jailer, for he had changed colour. A spasm shot through him, and for the moment he felt as if he must betray himself, for as he turned over the banana in his fingers, they touched a roughening of the under part, and the next instant he saw that the fruit he held had been partly cut away with the point of a knife, so that a figure had been carved in the soft rind, and this could only have been the work of one hand, and intended as a signal to him that he was not forgotten. For the figure cut in the rind was that of a shamrock – a trefoil with its stalk.

He hastily tore off the rind in tiny strips and ate the fruit, but the soft, creamy pulp seemed like ashes, and his throat was dry, as he completely destroyed all trace of the cutting on the rind and threw it aside.

Noting that Bart was watching him narrowly, he hurriedly picked up one of the little bunches of grapes and began eating them as if suffering from thirst. Then forcing himself to appear calm he lay down upon the couch till Bart had finished his customary attentions and gone.

Night at last – a moonless night – that would have been dusk on the open shore, but there in the forest beneath the interlacing trees it was absolutely black; and after watching at his window for hours, with every sense upon the strain, he reluctantly came to the conclusion that no attempt would be made, Dinny either not being prepared – though his signal seemed to be to indicate readiness for the night though suitable for concealment, being too obscure for his purpose.

“One of them might have managed to come and give me a word,” he said, fretfully, as at last, weary of watching the scintillations of the fireflies in a distant opening, he threw himself upon his couch to try and sleep, feeling that he would be wakeful all night, when all at once, just as he felt most troubled, his eyes closed, and he was deep in a dreamless sleep, lost to everything but the terrific roar which suddenly burst forth, following a vivid flash as of lightning, and as, confused and half-stunned, Humphrey started up, all idea of the proposed escape seemed to have passed away, and he sat watching for the next flash, listening for the next peal, thinking that this was a most terrific storm.

No flash – no peal – but a confused buzz of voices and the distant pattering of feet, while a dense, dank odour of exploded gunpowder penetrated the forest, and entered the window close to which the prisoner sat.

“Dinny – the escape!” he cried, excitedly, as he sprang from his bed, for now a flash did come with almost blinding force; but it was a mental flash, which left him quivering with excitement, as he sprang to the curtained corridor and listened there.

A step! – Dinny’s! Yes, he knew it well! It was coming along the great stone passage!

“Quick! we shall easily get away, for they’ll all crowd about the captain, asking him what to do.”

Dinny led on rapidly till they reached the turning in the direction of the old temple which contained the cenote. Here they struck off to the left, and found, as they cleared the narrow forest path, that the odour of the exploded gunpowder was almost overpowering.

Not a hundred yards away voices were heard speaking rapidly, and directly after they were silent, and the captain’s words rang out plainly as he gave orders to his people, though their import was not clear from the distance where the fugitives crept along by the edge of the ruins.

“Are you sure you are right?” whispered Humphrey.

“Roight, sor; I niver was more so. Whisht! Are ye there?”

“Yes, yes,” came from down by the side of a great wall. “Oh, Dinny, I was afraid you were killed!”

“Kilt! Nay, my darling, there’s a dale o’ loife in me yet. Tak’ howlt o’ me hand, one on each side, and walk quick and shteady, and I’ll have ye down by the say shore, where the boat is waiting, before ye know where ye are.”

They started off at a sharp walk, pausing at times to listen to the jargon of excited voices behind, but rapidly advancing, on the whole, toward their goal.

“Do – do you think we can escape?” said the woman, panting with fear.

“An’ is it eshcape, whin the boat’s waiting, and everything riddy?” said Dinny scornfully. “Dyer hear her, sor? What a woman it is!”

The woman sighed as if not hopeful, and Dinny added an encouraging word:

“Sure an’ the captain says he’ll tak’ care of us, darlin’, and avore long we’ll be sailing away over the salt say. It’s a white sail I’ve got in the boat, and – ”

“Hist, Dinny, you’re talking too loudly, my man!” whispered Humphrey.

“Bedad and I am, sor. It’s that owld sarpint of a tongue o’ mine. Bad luck to it for being given me wrong. Faix and it belonged to some woman by rights.”

They pressed on, and at the end of what seemed to be an interminably long time, Humphrey whispered:

“Are we near the sea?”

“Close to it now, sor. If it was Oireland ye’d hear the bating of the waves upon the shore; but they’re too hot and wake in this counthry to do more than give a bit of a lap on the sands.”

Another weary length of time passed, and still the sea-shore was not reached, but they were evidently near now, for the dull murmur of the billows in the sheltered gulf was plainly to be heard; and Mistress Greenheys, who, in spite of her bravery and decision, had begun to utter a low hysterical sob from time to time and hang more heavily upon her companions’ arms, took courage at the thought of the safety the sea offered, and pressed sturdily forward for another few hundred yards and then stopped short.

“What is it, darlin’?” whispered Dinny.

“Voices!” she replied softly.

“Yes; our own,” said Dinny. “There can’t be anny others here.”

“Hist!” ejaculated Humphrey. “Is there any other way down to the beach?”

“Divil a bit, sor, that we could foind, and the boat’s yander, close inshore.”

He took a step or two in advance, and listened.

“I am sure I heard whispering,” said Humphrey; but all was still now, and feeling satisfied at last that it was the murmur of the waves, they crept on in utter silence, and were about to leave the shelter of the path by which they had come and make for the open sand when Dinny checked his companions, and they all stood listening, for a voice that was familiar said:

“The skipper’s full of fancies. He hasn’t been right since this captain was made prisoner, and he has been worse since the other prisoners escaped.”

“Other prisoners! What prisoners?” thought Humphrey.

“You hold your tongue!” growled the familiar voice of Bart. “Do you want to scare them off?”

“Scare whom off?”

“Those who try to escape. Silence!”

Mistress Greenheys reeled up against Humphrey and would have fallen but for his strong arm which encircled her, lifted her from the ground and held her firmly as he stepped softly back, followed by Dinny, who did not speak till they had reached the shelter of some trees.

“Look at that, now!” he whispered out of the black darkness. “Have ye got the darling safe?”

“Yes, safe enough; but what does this mean?”

“Mane, sor? Sure and it’s Bart yander wid two min.”

“Take us down to the sea by some other path.”

“Shure an’ don’t I tell ye there is no other path, sor. It’s the only way. Murther, look at that!”

For at that moment a light flashed out and shimmered on the sea, sank, rose, and became brilliant, shining forth so that they could see that the three men down upon the shore had lit a pile of some inflammable material, beyond which, floating easily upon the surface of the sea and apparently close inshore, was a boat – the boat that was to bear them safely away.

They were sheltered by the trees, and besides, too far off to be seen by the men, whose acts, however, were plain enough to them, as one of them was seen to wade out to the boat, get hold of her mooring rope, and drag her ashore.

“The murtherin’ villains!” muttered Dinny. “They’re takkin’ out the shtores. Look at that now! There’s the barl o’ wather and the bishkit, and now there’s the sail. What’ll I do intoirely? My heart’s bruk wid ’em.”

“Hush, my lad! You’ll be heard,” whispered Humphrey. “Is there no other boat we can get?”

“Divil a wan, sor, and if we shtay here we shall be tuk. What’ll we do now?”

“Make a bold fight for it, and take them by surprise.”

“Wid a woman as wan of our min, sor! Sure an’ it would be a mad thrick. Wan of us would be sure to go down, you or me, even if we bate the divils. Look at ’em, the fire’s going down, and they’re coming back!”

Humphrey gave an angry stamp, for in her agony of dread Mistress Greenheys gave herself a wrest from his arm, and hurried back.

“What’s that?” whispered Dinny.

“Mistress Greenheys.”

“What? gone back, sor? Whisht! darlin’. Stop!”

If the woman heard his words they only added to her alarm, for she hurried on, apparently as well acquainted with the way back as Dinny, who immediately started in pursuit.

“What are you going to do?” whispered Humphrey.

“Do, sor! Go afther her.”

“No, no; we must escape now we’ve got so far.”

“Shure an’ we will, sor; but to go forward’s to go into prishn for you and to be dancing on nothing for me. Come on, sor. Let’s catch up to me poor freckened darlin’, and then tak’ to the woods.”

They hurried back in pursuit of their companion, but fear had made her fleet of foot, and in spite of their efforts they did not overtake her.

“She’ll have gone back to her quarthers,” said Dinny dismally. “Shall we go back to ours?”

“No!” cried Humphrey imperiously. “Good heavens, man! our absence has been found out before now. Let’s take to the woods or hide in one of the ruins till we can get away.”

“Shure an’ ye’re roight, sor. They’ve been afther ye, av coorse, and I’ve been missed and can’t show meself now widout being thrated as a thraitor. Will ye thrust to me, and I’ll find a place!”

“Trust you? yes,” said Humphrey; “but what do you propose doing?”

“Doing, sor? Hoiding till we can find a chansh of getting away.”

“Where will you hide?”

“Ye said ye’d thrust me, sor,” whispered Dinny. “Come on.”

Chapter Thirty Three

On the Qui Vive

The buccaneer had sought the ruined temple that evening in lowness of spirit and utter despondency. The old daring spirit seemed to be departing, and supremacy over the men passing rapidly away, and he knew how they talked among themselves, consequent upon Mazzard’s teaching, of the growing weakness of their commander.

“And they’re right,” he said, bitterly. “I am losing power and strength, and growing more and more into the pitiful, weak creature they say. And yet how I have tried!”

He sprang to his feet, for at that moment there was the reflection of a flash which lit up the interior of the old temple, showing the weird figures sitting round as if watching him in his despondent mood.

It was but momentary, and then came a crash as if heaven and earth had come together, followed by a long, muttering roar as the thunder of the explosion died away.

The minute before the buccaneer had been inert, despondent and hopeless. The knowledge of what must have taken place brought back his flagging energies, and with a great dread seeming to compress his heart that evil might have befallen his prisoner, he tore out of the dark temple, and as fast as the gloom of the winding path would allow him toward the old amphitheatre.

Haste and the excitement made his breathing laboured as he strove to get on more rapidly, but only to be kept back by the maze-like paths, where he passed Humphrey and Dinny, and, gaining the open ground, dashed on to where his men were gathered.

“Bart! quick!” he cried, as soon as he was convinced that no harm could have befallen his prisoner. “Take men, and down the path to the shore. There will be an attempt to escape in the confusion, and they’ll make for the sea.”

Bart grasped the urgency of the case, called two men, and set off at a run, while Dinny was next summoned.

“Hah!” ejaculated the captain, drawing his breath between his teeth; “a traitor in the camp!”

He called for lights, and went straight to the corridor, entered and walked down it to the chamber, tenanted now by the grim idol alone, and stood for a few moments looking round.

“Well,” he muttered, “he will learn the truth of what I said. The firing of the powder must have been planned.”

He went back to where his men were waiting outside and walked through to the terrace above the old amphitheatre, to find that the magazine was completely swept away; but the darkness hid the shattered stones lying in all directions and the trees blasted and whitened and stripped of leaf and bark.

“My prisoner has escaped,” he said aloud. “I think with the man who was his attendant, the Irishman, Dennis Kelly. Capture both; but no violence to either, on your lives.”

There was a low murmur either of assent or objection, and he was turning away when Dick, the sailor, came up.

“Gone!” he said, laconically.

“Mazzard? Gone!” cried the buccaneer, excitedly.

“Yes; and the man who was on guard lying dead, crushed with a stone.”

“From the explosion?” cried the buccaneer.

“From Black Mazzard’s hands,” replied Dick, stolidly.

“Well,” said the captain, drawing in his breath hard as he thought of the possibility of the escaped prisoners coming in contact, “there will be two to capture when the day breaks. No one can get away.”

In an hour a messenger came from the sea in the shape of Bart, and he made his way to the captain’s side.

“Well?”

“You were right; they intended the sea;” and he explained about the boat.

“And yet you have come away?”

“Two men are watching,” said Bart, stolidly.

“Bah! you must be mad.”

“And two planks are rifted out of the boat. It will take a carpenter to make her float.”

“Bart, forgive me.”

“Forgive you! Ah, yes! I forgive.”

“I have need of all your aid. Captain Armstrong has escaped.”

“Not far.”

“No; but there is worse news. Mazzard has brained his keeper, and is at liberty.”

“Hah!” ejaculated Bart.

“And those two may meet.”

“Always of him,” muttered Bart, sadly. “Well, skipper, what is it to be now, when he is captured?”

“Death.”

“To Captain Armstrong?”

“Man, are you mad? Let Mazzard be taken, and that Irishman, too.”

“And – ”

“Silence, man! Let them be taken. I rule here.”

Bart drew a long breath.

“Nothing can be done till daylight, except wait.”

Chapter Thirty Four

The Safest Place

“No, no, man; make for the forest,” whispered Humphrey, just at daybreak, as Dinny began to take advantage of the coming light to seek a safe place of concealment.

“What for, sor? To get buried in threes that don’t so much as grow a cabbage, where there’s no wather and no company but monkeys and the shpotted tigers. Lave it to me, sor, and I’ll tak’ ye to a place where ye can lay shnug in hiding, and where maybe I can get spache of the darling as the bastes freckened away.”

“Where shall you go, then? Why not to that old temple where Mazzard made his attempt to kill the captain?”

“There, sor! Why, the captain would find us directly. You lave it to me.”

Humphrey would have taken to the forest without hesitation, but, worn-out and suffering keenly from disappointment, he was in no humour to oppose, and, signifying his willingness, he followed the Irishman by devious ways in and out of the ruins for some time, till Dinny crouched down, and motioned to Humphrey to do the same.

The place was such a chaos, and so changed by the terrific force of the explosion that Humphrey had felt as if he were journeying along quite a new portion of the forest outskirts, till, as he obeyed his companion and they crouched down among some dense herbage, he stared with astonishment at the sight before him, a couple of hundred yards away.

For there, beyond one of the piles of crumbling ruins, was a perfectly familiar pathway, out of which he saw step into the broad sunshine the picturesque figure of the buccaneer captain, who strode toward a group of waiting men.

A discussion seemed to take place, there were some sharp orders, and then the whole party disappeared.

“Why, Dinny, man, are you mad?” whispered Humphrey. “I trusted to you to take me to some place of hiding, and you’ve brought me right into the lion’s den.”

“Well, sor, and a moighty purty place too, so long as the lion’s not at home. Sure and ye just saw him go out.”

“But, Dinny – ”

“Whisht! Don’t spake so loud, sor. Sure, now, if a cannon-ball made a hole in the side of a ship, isn’t that the safest place to put your head so as not to be hurt. They niver hit the same place twice.”

“Then your hiding-place is my old lodging – my prison?”

“Av coorse it is! The skipper has been there to mak’ sure that ye really are gone; and now he knows, he’ll say to himself that this is the last place ye’d go and hide in; and troth, he’s quite roight, isn’t he?”

Humphrey hesitated for a few moments, and then, feeling how true the man’s words were, he gave way.

“Sure, sor, and it’s all roight,” whispered Dinny. “Aren’t I thrying to keep my head out of a noose, and d’ye think I’d be for coming here if it wasn’t the safest place. Come along; sure, it is a lion’s den, as ye call it, and the best spot I know.”

He whispered to Humphrey to follow cautiously, and crept on all-fours among the dense growth, and in and out among the loose stones at the very edge of the forest, till the tunnel-like pathway was reached in safety, when, after crawling a few yards out of the blinding sunshine into the shadowy gloom, Dinny rose to his feet.

“There, sor,” he said, “we can walk like Christians, now, and not like animal bastes. There isn’t a sound.”

As he spoke, there was a peculiar cry, and a gorgeously-plumaged bird flitted into sight, and perched on a piece of stone in the sunny opening of the tunnel, where its scarlet breast and dazzling golden-green plumage glittered in the sun.

“Sure and ye’re a purty fowl, and I’m much obliged to ye for the information,” said Dinny, as the bird erected its brilliant crest, stared wildly, and then flew off with its long green tail-feathers streaming out behind. “He says there’s nobody about, sor, or he wouldn’t be here. Come along.”

It seemed like a dream to Humphrey after his sleepless night, to find himself once more in the gloomy corridor with the faint light streaming in at the side-openings, instead of in a boat, dancing over the blue waters and leaving the buccaneer’s nest behind. But it was the bare reality, as Dinny went forward, drew the great curtain aside, and he passed in and on from behind the great idol to throw himself, worn-out and exhausted, upon his couch of skins.

“Sure and I wouldn’t trate it like that, sor,” cried Dinny, cheerfully. “We have eshcaped, sor, though we haven’t got away, and been obliged to come back again.”

“Don’t talk folly, man.”

“An’ is it folly ye call it! Sure an’ we have eshcaped, or else why are they all in purshuit of us? We’ve got away, and they fale it, and all that’s happened is that we did rache the boat, but had to come back here for a rest till we were riddy to go on. Sure, sor, ye’re hungry. Ate some of the tortillas and drink some of the wine, and thin, if ye won’t think it presumption, I’ll say – afther you.”

“Eat and drink, man. You must be faint. I have no appetite.”

“Ah!” ejaculated Dinny, after a pause of about a quarter of an hour, which he had bravely employed, “there’s nothing like food and dhrink, if it’s only potaties and butthermilk. Sure I’m ready for annything now, and so will ye be, sor, as soon as the wine begins to work.”

“Dinny, I’m ready for anything, now; but we cannot stay here.”

“Git up, sor, if ye wouldn’t moind,” said Dinny.

Humphrey obeyed dejectedly as the man advanced.

“Sure, sor, and it’s a wondherful owld place this, and there must have been some strange games carried on. Now, sor, in all the months ye’ve been here, did ye iver look under the bed?”

“Under the bed, man?” cried Humphrey. “Why, it is a huge block of stone.”

“Is it, now, sor? Sure and didn’t I help fit up the place for ye when ye first came, an’ by the captain’s orders? Sure and I know all about it. ‘Dinny, me boy,’ me mother used to say to me, ‘ye haven’t got a watch and ye’ve got no money, but ye may have both some day, so beware of thayves and robbers; and whiniver ye go to slape in a sthrange place, be sure ye look under the bed.’ An’ yer mother niver gave you that advice, sor?”

He walked to the couch and threw up the skins which covered it, revealing what seemed to be a low, square bench of stone, whose top was one enormous slab.

“Now, sor,” said Dinny, “would ye moind thrying to lift that?”

Humphrey stepped quickly to his side, bent down, seized the projecting slab, tried to raise it, and then straightened himself and shook his head.

“A dozen men could not raise it, Dinny,” he said.

“No, sor, but a Kelly can. Look here.”

He bent down, placed his shoulder to one corner, gave a thrust, and the whole top glided round as if on a pivot, and revealed an opening dimly lit apparently from below.

“There, sor,” he said, “I dishcovered that by accident when I was here alone wan day. I pushed a big stone against that corner and it gave way, and when I pushed the whole place opened, and down there’s as good a hiding-place as a man need have.”

“Dinny,” cried Humphrey, excitedly, “and doesn’t the captain know of this?”

“Sure and I think the last man who knew of it died before the flood, sor, and it hasn’t been opened since.”

“And these rough stairs – where do they lead?”

“Down into the cabin, sor, where there’s a little door out into the forest. Sure and the artful baste who made it little thought he was going to find us as purty a hiding-place as was ever made. There it is, sor, all ready for us if we hear annyone coming. If we do, down we go and twirl the lid of the pot back over our heads, and then we can either go or shtay.”

“Can you move the cover when you are down?”

“Aisily, sor. I’ve thried it. Now, then, what do ye say to that?”

Humphrey’s answer was to hold out his hand and wring that of his companion.

There was an ample supply of food in the place for a week, and water and wine. Dinny’s ideas respecting their safety seemed to be quite correct, for though voices were heard at a distance, no one approached the place. They had the hidden subterranean tomb-like chamber into which they could retreat; and on the second night, while Dinny was watching and Humphrey, utterly worn-out, was sleeping feverishly and trying to forget the troubles and disappointments of his failure, there was a faint rustling noise heard, and directly after his name was whispered softly from above.