Dutch the Diver: or, A Man's Mistake

Story 1-Chapter XXVIII.

A Race for Life

That had been a tremendously hot day, but in the excitement of the silver-seeking the weather had been unnoticed; but as the night came on it seemed almost suffocating to those who were not moved by such passionate emotions as Dutch Pugh and his wife.

Sam Oakum had been till quite late standing chewing his tobacco, as he looked over the side watching the golden green water that heaved gently against the stern of the vessel, for, moored as she was, she did not swing with the tide, and after a time he went and joined ’Pollo, whose galley was, after all, no hotter than the rest of the ship.

From where they sat talking in a low voice, the encounter between Lauré and Hester had not been heard, and when from time to time Oakum thrust out his head and took a look round to see the faint glow from the cabin skylight, all was as still as death, and he drew his head in again and went on talking.

“Don’t gawp like that, ’Pollo,” said Oakum at last, as his companion yawned in a fashion that was quite shark-like.

“I berry sleep and tired, Mass’ Oakum, sah; I had berry hot day.”

“There, I’ll soon wake you up, my lad.”

“No, sah, I hope you do nuffum ob de sort, for I want go asleep.”

Oakum chuckled softly to himself, and then, just as ’Pollo was in the midst of a second yawn, he said:

“I wonder how much apiece the governors mean to give us.”

’Pollo was wide awake on the instant.

“I no know, Mass’ Oakum, sah, but dey get so much for demselves dat they give us great big whack.”

“I dunno,” said Sam. “We ought to have made a bargain. But there, let’s go down and turn in.”

“No, sah, I tank you,” said ’Pollo; “it ten time more hot down below dere dan in my galley, where de fire full go. Nuff to cook all de boys in de forksel, and make ’em come up brown in de morning. I not bit sleepy now, and when I am I lie down here on de deck and hab rest.”

“Well it is a bit better up here, ’Pollo, for you can breathe.”

“Yes, sah; can get de wind ’nuff to kip going. But ’bout de silber, sah. You tink dey get up all from down below?”

“Yes, ’Pollo, and I suppose we shall start next to get to another sunken wreck, and unload her.”

“I tink, sah, I take de schooner close up to dat old wreck off de lilly island.”

“So do I, ’Pollo; and what’s more I will.”

“I tink, sah, we ought get berry big lot ob silber for ourselb. If I tought dey turn shabby, I say let Mass’ Oakum and me go and get de whole ob de oder ship and cut de silber in two half, and take one apiece.”

“Very pretty, ’Pollo, if we could do it: but as we can’t, let’s be content with what we get from the governors.”

“Yah – yah – yah – yah,” laughed ’Pollo softly.

“Now then, what are you grinning about?” said Oakum.

“I tink, sah, about de sunken ship and de silber.”

“What of it?”

“I tink, sah, how funny it am if we came out here, find de sunk ship, pull up all de silber, and den if we go and lose de ship somewheres else, and all de silber go to de bottom again.”

“I say, young fellow,” growled Sam, “don’t you get croaking like that. ’Taint lucky.”

“No, sah; wouldn’t be lucky lose all de silber again. I tink I know how much I go to hab for my share.”

“Enough to make you an independent gentleman for life, ’Pollo.”

“You tink so, sah?” chuckled ’Pollo.

“Sartin sure.”

“Den I wear white hankcher and white wescoat ebery day; and make some darn niggah clean my boots free times over. Yah, yah, yah.”

“Here, I shall be smothered if I stop up here much longer, ’Pollo,” said Oakum, stepping out upon the deck, where all was dark and silent, only a very faint light now coming up through the cabin skylight.

“It am hot, sar, berry hot,” said ’Pollo, and they stood at the side staring at the shore, where the undergrowth seemed to be lit up by a shower of fallen stars, which leaped and danced from leaf to leaf, while the very sea beneath them seemed alive with pale shining points of light, which glided softly along till some fish darted through the water and made the little starry dots flash into a long line of light. Against the side of the ship there seemed to be so much pale golden light rising and falling, showing the copper sheathing of the vessel, and surrounding it with a soft halo which made its shape just faintly outlined from stem to stern. The cables, too, by which it was moored could be faintly traced as lines of light illuminated and sparkling right to the sand below, and for some little time the two men stood watching in silence.

“Dat’s shark,” whispered ’Pollo, suddenly, as he pointed down to where the points of light flashed more vividly as they were agitated, and though they could not make out the shape of the monster, it was plain to see that some great fish was slowly gliding through the water.

“What’s he hanging about after?” said Oakum, watching the place intently. “I should have thought it had been made too warm for them gentlemen, and they’d have give us a wide berth.”

“He know somebody go to die soon,” said ’Pollo, in a low voice. “Dat Mass’ Studwick or pretty Missee Pugh.”

“Don’t you talk humbug,” said Oakum, with a growl. “Phew! it’s strange and hot; I shall go and turn in.”

“You soon turn out again. Mass’ Oakum, you go below. De cockroach hab fine game night like dis hyar, sah, and de skeetas buzz bout like anyfing. You top on deck and lay down under de awning. Dey coming on deck dose oder chap half baked, sah.”

“How do you know?” growled Sam.

“I hear some one, sah, just now come crawl up, and – Oh, Goramighty, who hit me on de head?”

For just then there was a dull thud, a fall, and Sam Oakum felt himself seized from behind, and a hard hand placed over his mouth.

He was too sturdy a fellow, though, to submit to that, and wrenching himself free he sent one of his assailants one way, and the other sprawling over the body of ’Pollo, and darting aside, he gave a spring, caught at the inner side of the main shrouds, swung his legs up, and as the two men ran in pursuit of him they passed beneath him in the darkness, and he climbed softly up higher and higher, then crawling round to the outside, and clung there, gazing down into the darkness below, feeling that he had had a narrow escape for his life.

“The ship’s been boarded in the dark,” he muttered, as he listened attentively, seeing nothing, but making out something of the proceedings by the sounds below.

Now came the noise of the cabin hatches being secured; then there were short, sharp orders here and there, followed by a struggle, a wild cry, and a heavy fall. Then came the splash heard below in the cabin, and Oakum muttered to himself:

“There’s one poor fellow gone to his long home.”

Then he set himself to make out who it could be, but his attention was taken off directly by sounds of the alarm having spread below.

“And now how about all the silver?” muttered Oakum. “That’s about the size of what this here means.”

Sam was right, for the ship had been seized for the sake of the silver found, and that which was to be discovered, for Lauré had decided that it was not safe to stay any longer. He had been waiting his time, and had there been no chance of discovery he intended to let Parkley and Dutch go from wreck to wreck, and obtain all the sunken treasure possible before seizing the vessel. But now the plot seemed so ripe that if allowed to go further it might fail, so, exasperated by his encounter that evening, he had whispered his intentions to the men under his orders, unfortunately more than half the crew, and as Sam Oakum listened from aloft he could hear the scoundrels hurrying about, the hatches secured, and then proceedings followed that showed him that the alarm had fully spread.

First there was the shivering of a skylight, Captain Studwick calling out to know what the noise meant, followed by beating and kicking at the door; and then several shots were fired followed by a dead silence, broken by Lauré’s voice giving orders in a sharp, business-like way.

“I wonder where poor old ’Pollo is,” said Sam Oakum as he sat upon his perch thinking, and by force of habit he took out his tobacco-box, helped himself to a bit, and began to consider about the perils of his position. Where he was would do very well for now, he argued, but as soon as the day began to break he would be seen, and then the probabilities were that he would be shot down.

“Leastwise, p’haps, they’ll let me off as soon as I say I’ll jyne ’em, but that won’t come off. Now, who’s in this game, I wonder? That yaller-skinned mulatto chap’s one for a dollar, and there’s roughs enough among those as came aboard with him to make up a pretty crew, I’ll swear.”

Sam sat thinking while the captors of the vessel were pretty busy down below, and at last, one plug of tobacco being ended, he started upon another, but this time not being so cautious, or rather having his attention taken up by what was passing below, he closed the steel tobacco-box with a loud clear snap, and in the stillness of the night this sounded so clearly that he knew he must be discovered.

To change his position was the work of a few moments, and while he was in the act of moving there was a sharp flash, and the report of a pistol, followed by another and another, the bullets whistling close by him.

“There’s some one up in the rigging,” said Lauré sharply. “It’s that black cook.”

“No,” said another voice, “we fetched him down first off, and he’s been pitched below.”

“Who is it, then?” said Lauré sharply.

“I think Oakum was on deck,” said another voice.

“Here you, Sam Oakum, come down,” said Lauré, in a clear, loud voice. “Come down and you shall not be hurt.”

“That’s nice palaver after sending bullets to fetch a man down,” said Sam to himself, “and after pitching one poor chap to the sharks. I think I’ll stay where I am.”

“Here, two of you to the port, and two to the starboard shrouds. Take your knives with you, and if the scoundrel won’t give in, fetch him down best way you can.”

Sam Oakum drew a long breath as he heard these words, and then, the rigging beginning to quiver, he set his teeth, and began to make cautiously for one of the stays, intending to get to the next mast if he could, and so steal down on deck, where, if he could contrive to reach the poop, he might climb over and join those below through the cabin windows.

It was ticklish work, though, for as he glided and swung from place to place, he could hear by the hard breathing that he was closely pursued. Spider-like, too, the touching of the various ropes by his enemies gave him fair warning that he was in danger, though, unfortunately, his movements were in the same way telegraphed to his enemies.

At last they came so near that his capture seemed certain, or if not capture, he felt sure that a blow from a knife would be his portion. For just as he was going to pass on to the shrouds he had reached, he felt by their vibration that some fresh men were coming up, and seizing a rope he swung himself out clear from the top and hung there, gently swaying about, hearing his pursuers pass close by him, so near that he could have stretched out one hand and touched them.

As far as he could judge, he was now just over the cabin skylight, and his heart bounded, for somewhere about here ought to be the top of the wind-sail hung up in the rigging, so that the great canvas tube might convey the fresh air below to take the place of the hot.

“If I could only reach that,” thought Sam, “I might slip inside, and go down with a run into the cabin.”

He felt about gently for some few moments – not a very easy task, swinging as he was – and then to his great joy he felt his leg come in contact with the rope that suspended the sail, threw his legs round it, and slid down to the top; then, feeling for the opening in the side, he thrust in his leg and held on for a moment while he drew his knife and opened it with his teeth, determined to sell his life dearly if he should be assailed.

It was well he did so, for, directly after squaring his elbows so as to make all the resistance possible to a rapid descent, he let himself glide into the long canvas sack; but, in spite of his efforts, he went down with a rapid run, not as he expected into the cabin, but upon the deck, where he lay struggling for a few moments before he could get his knife to work and rip up a sufficiently-large slit to allow of his rolling out, and then leaped to his feet, ready to meet the first attack that came.

The darkness befriended him, for no one dared fire for fear of hitting a friend, and though the noise of his fall brought his enemies round, it was only to seize one another; and in the midst of the confusion he escaped, and dashed off in a hard race, closely pursued by half-a-dozen scoundrels, whose purpose evidently was to hunt him overboard.

Twice over he ran right into some one’s arms, and once he ran full tilt against an enemy, and sent him rolling over on to the deck. Shouts and oaths rang around him, and over and over again poor Oakum felt that his only chance of escaping from one horrible death was by seeking another.

“But no,” he muttered, “I’m not going to be served like that;” and he dodged round mast, galley, and boat, crouching under bulwarks, and escaping over and over again by a miracle as he tried hard to think of some means of baffling his pursuers. The cabin skylight was too strongly covered with wirework, he thought, or he would have tried to leap through; and as to leaping overboard, swimming beneath the cabin window, and calling to those who were prisoners to lower down a rope, that was not to be thought of after the sight he had seen that night in the luminous water.

“I should be torn to pieces,” he muttered. “Take that, you mutinous ruffian,” he added, as he struck out fiercely at one of his enemies, lying down the next moment flat on the deck, so that a pursuer fell over him, and fell with a crash.

Try how he would, the fugitive was beaten; at every turn in the darkness an enemy seemed to spring up in his way, and as he heard the whish of blows directed at him he wondered he had escaped so long.

But a man running for his life is hard to overtake, especially if he have the darkness for his ally: and so it was that at the end of five minutes, during which Sam had been a dozen times within an ace of being taken, he was still at large, standing panting close to the forecastle hatch, while his enemies were creeping cautiously up, ready to make a spring.

“If I’m to be threw overboard,” muttered Sam, “I won’t go alone, anyhow. If the sharks is to be fed, they shall have a double allowance;” and setting his teeth with a vicious grating noise, he prepared for a run aft.

The darkness was now more intense than ever, for a thick mist had come off the land, enshrouding the deck so that Sam could not see the knife he grasped in his hand, but his ears were strained so that he could make out the panting breath of his enemies as they came nearer and nearer, and to his horror he found that they had spread themselves right across the deck; and his imagination suggested that they had joined hands so as to make sure that he did not escape, literally dragging the deck from astern forward, so he knew that they were certain of him this time.

His only chance seemed to be to run out on the bowsprit, and to try to get by one of the stays upon the foremast, but the men were so close that he felt sure they would cut him down before he had gone a yard.

Crouching down, and backing, he was close to the capstan, when his foot came in contact with a fender – one of those heavy pads of cordage and network used to keep ships’ sides from grinding on a stone wharf.

In an instant he had caught it up, and raising it in both hands above his head he waited his time, and then, as the men closed up, he hurled it with all his force against the nearest, catching him full in the chest, and sending him down like a skittle, when, as he uttered a cry, the others believing that the man they sought to capture had sprung upon him, closed in with a shout, and Oakum dashed by them again.

His triumph was but short-lived, for the men were after him directly, chasing him now more savagely than ever. Once or twice his bare feet had slipped on the wet deck, and he had shuddered, believing it to be blood; and forgetting the place, as now, panting and nearly exhausted, he was running on, feeling that the time had come to stand at bay, one of his feet glided over the boards and as he made an effort to save himself by a leap, there was a heavy crash, a fall, and he knew no more.

Story 1-Chapter XXIX.

Awakening

How long Dutch had been asleep he could not tell, but he was dreaming of some fresh trouble. He was diving, and one of the sharks kept striking him blows on the helmet, the noise seeming to reverberate within his brain, when, making an effort, he dragged the helmet off so as to more clearly see his enemy, and strike at it with his knife, when he awoke to hear noises overhead, the beating of feet, and, as he leaped out of his cot, struggling, a horrible cry, and he stood paralysed as the next moment the cabin door was banged to, and sounds came as of ropes being piled upon it.

“In God’s name, what does this mean?” said the doctor, who had leapt out of his berth, and was hastily dressing.

“Heaven only knows,” replied Dutch. “But quick! Miss Studwick! My wife! Get to their cabin door. Indians, perhaps, from the shore – an attack – we must save them.”

“Even at the expense of our lives,” said the doctor in a low voice. “Have you taken my revolver, or my gun?”

“No, no. Mine are gone, too,” exclaimed Dutch. “Never mind, man, we have our hands: quick!”

They rushed out of the cabin, nearly oversetting Mr Parkley and the naturalist; but, paying no heed, Dutch rushed to the little cabin where his wife was clinging to Bessy Studwick, tried the door to find it fastened, and then with one kick sent it off its hinges.

“Hester!” he cried hoarsely, “Hester!”

For answer she sprang to his neck, and clung there with a sigh of relief, —

“This way,” he said, “into the main cabin. Thank heaven, you are safe.”

“And you,” she moaned, as she felt his strong arms round her; and catching one of his hands convulsively she pressed it upon her heart, while her lips sought for his in vain. “Dutch – Dutch – husband – call me wife once more.”

“I’d give my life to do so, Hester,” he whispered passionately, the unknown peril of the night having broken down the icy barrier that had existed for so long.

“Dutch,” she whispered back, “if truth to you deserves the right to be called your wife, you may speak the word.”

“But it is no time to speak now,” he exclaimed. “Some terrible calamity has befallen us.”

“Yes, yes, it was what I feared,” she moaned, clinging more tightly to him.

“You feared,” he said. “But stop! Now in this time of peril, Hester, when in a few moments we may be separated for ever, tell me the truth; you were speaking to some man, and even to-night?”

“Yes, Dutch,” she said.

“It was that mulatto?”

“Mulatto!” she said bitterly. “It was Señor Lauré.”

“Lauré,” he exclaimed. “Yes, I half suspected him, and you knew he was on board and did not warn us,” he added, in a tone of disgust, as he tried to free himself from his wife’s embrace.

“I could only warn you at the peril of your life, Dutch,” she said. “He threatened me.”

They were interrupted by the voice of the captain shouting for the door to be opened.

“Are you there, doctor?” said Dutch.

“Yes,” was the reply.

“And Miss Studwick?”

“I am here,” said Bessy, quietly. “Hester, give me your hand.”

It was pitch dark, and they dared not light a lamp for fear of making marks of themselves for those on deck, especially as, in reply to the captain breaking the cabin skylight, a couple of pistol shots were fired down, fortunately without effect.

Just then Captain Studwick spoke.

“I cannot understand this,” he said. “There must be some treachery somewhere, or we have been boarded in the night. It cannot be an Indian attack. Dutch Pugh, can Lauré have overtaken us?”

“Overtaken us! Poor children that we were to try to fight him with brains,” said Dutch bitterly; “he has never let us out of his sight.”

“What!” cried Mr Parkley.

“He has been on board from the first with half-a-dozen picked men.”

“And he was the mulatto?” cried Captain Studwick. “Curse the fellow! Then we are indeed undone.”

There was a few moments’ silence, and then Captain Studwick spoke again.

“I always felt that there was something wrong – always. Bear me witness that I did, Pugh, and yet I could not tell what it was.”

“You did,” said Dutch, who was listening intently.

“But this is no time for talking,” cried Mr Parkley excitedly. “The scoundrel! the villain! to outdo us like this; and at such a time, when we have just succeeded in getting the treasure. Only to think of it, we have been working like this for him.”

“It has not come to that yet,” said Dutch, quietly, and his voice sounded strangely in the dark. “We are fastened down here, of course, Studwick?”

“Yes, I have tried hard, but they have secured us,” said the captain.

“How many are we here?” said Dutch.

“Don’t talk like that, Mr Pugh,” said Wilson, the naturalist. “You never mean to fight.”

“Englishmen always mean to fight, Mr Wilson,” said Dutch, sternly, “when there are women to protect.”

“That was well said,” exclaimed a voice from the far end of the little saloon. “I wish I was a strong, hearty man like you.”

“I wish so too, my boy,” said Captain Studwick between his teeth. “Poor lad, his soul is strong if his body is weak.”

“Answer to your names, you who are here,” said Dutch; and in return he repeated those of the captain, Mr Parkley, the doctor, naturalist, and John Studwick. “The ladies, I know, are here,” he added.

“Would to heaven they were not!” muttered the doctor.

“There’s more here nor you’ve called over,” said a gruff voice.

“That’s Rasp,” cried Mr Parkley eagerly.

“Yes, and there’s a couple o’ sailors here too,” said the old fellow, “on’y they’ve lost their tongues.”

“Who are they?” asked the captain, sharply.

“Here’s Dick Rolls here, capen,” said a rough voice.

“And who is that speaking?” said the captain.

“Robert Lennie, your honour,” was the reply.

“The two men I suspected,” whispered the captain to Dutch. “We’ve been on the wrong scent throughout.”

“Miss Studwick had better go with my wife into the forecabin,” said Dutch; and his lips trembled as at the words “my wife” he heard a faint sob. Then there was a low rustling noise, and in a moment more all was still.

“Now, captain, quickly,” said Dutch; “had you not better serve out the arms?”

“They would have been served out before now, Pugh,” was the reply, “if we had had them.”

“You don’t mean,” gasped Dutch, as he recollected missing his own pistol from its shelf in the little cabin.

“I mean that while our minds have been fixed on the silver,” said the captain bitterly, “sharper brains than ours have been dead on seizing the golden opportunities. I have searched and there is not a weapon left.”

A low murmur ran round the cabin; and then there was perfect silence, as they all stood there in the pitchy darkness and stifling heat – for the wind-sail had been withdrawn – listening intently to the sounds above, for it was evident now that some fresh disturbance was on foot – in fact, the noise of the discovery of Oakum now began to reach their ears, accompanied directly after by the sound of shots.

“They are not all enemies on deck, then,” said Dutch, eagerly. “Who can that be?”

“It must be Oakum or Mr Jones,” exclaimed the captain.

“Surely we have more true men on board than that,” said Dutch, who in this time of emergency seemed to take the lead.

“I hope so,” was the captain’s remark; and then once more there was silence on deck, following upon a sharp order or two that they could not make out.

Just then Dutch felt a hand laid upon his arm.

“Who is this?” he said, in a low voice.

“It is I – Meldon,” said the doctor in the same tone. “Lean towards me, Mr Pugh.”

“What do you wish to say?” said Dutch.

“Shall we be obliged to fight, Mr Pugh?” whispered the doctor.