Dutch the Diver: or, A Man's Mistake

There was something very pathetic in the aspect of the young man, in whom it was plain enough to see that one by one most fatal diseases had made such inroads as to preclude all hope of recovery; and saddened at heart, for more than one reason, above all feeling that his presence was not welcome, Dutch superintended his men till, feeling that it would be absolutely necessary that some one would have to be on deck every day till the copper was all recovered, he made up his mind that it would fall to his lot, except at such times as Mr Parkley would relieve guard.

Story 1-Chapter IV.

The Diver at Home

The next morning Rasp was sent off to act as superintendent, for Mr Parkley decided that Dutch must stay and help him in his plans for carrying out the Cuban’s wishes, if he took the affair up, and previously to discuss the matter.

Dutch announced to Rasp then that he would have to set off at once.

“It’s always the way,” grumbled the old fellow. “Board that schooner, too. Yah!”

“Never mind, Rasp; you like work. You’ll be like the busy bee, improving each shining hour,” said Dutch, smiling.

“Yes; and my helmets, and tubes, and pumps getting not fit to be seen, and made hat-pegs of. Busy bee, indeed! I’m tired of improving the shining hours. I’ve been all my life a-polishing of ’em up for some one else.”

He set off growling, and vowing vengeance on the men if they did not work; and Dutch returned to find Mr Parkley with a map of the West Indies spread upon the desk.

“Look here,” he said, “here’s the place,” and he pointed to the Caribbean Sea.

“Do you think seriously of this matter, then?” said Dutch.

“Very. Why not? I believe it is genuine. Don’t you?”

“I can’t say,” replied Dutch. “It may be.”

“I think it is,” said the other, sharply; “and it seems to me a chance.”

“If it proved as this Cuban says, of course it would be.”

“And why should it not?” said Mr Parkley. “You see he has nothing to gain by getting me to fit out an expedition, unless we are successful.”

“But it may be visionary.”

“Those ingots were solid visions,” said Mr Parkley. “No, my lad; the thing’s genuine. I’ve thought it out all right, and decided to go in for it at once – that is, as soon as we can arrange matters.”

“Indeed, sir!” said Dutch, startled at the suddenness of the decision.

“Yes, my lad, I have faith in it. We could go in the schooner. Take a couple of those divers, and some of our newest appliances. I look upon the whole affair as a godsend. Hum! Here he is. Don’t seem too eager, but follow my lead.”

A clerk announced the previous night’s visitor; and Dutch recalled for the moment the previous day’s meeting, and the annoyance he had felt on seeing the stranger’s admiring gaze. But this was all forgotten in a few moments, the Cuban being certainly all that could be desired in gentlemanly courtesy, and his manners were winning in the extreme.

“And now that you have had a night for consideration, Señor Parkley, what do you think of my project?” he said, glancing at the map.

“I want to know more,” said Mr Parkley.

“I have told you that vessels were sunk – ships laden with gold and silver, Señor Parkley, and I say join me. Find all that is wanted – a ship – divers – and make an agreement to give me half the treasure recovered, and I will take your ship to the spots. Where these are is my secret.”

“You said I was slow and cold, Mr Lorry, yesterday,” said Mr Parkley. “You shan’t say so to-day. When I make up my mind I strike while the iron is hot. My mind is made up.”

“Then you refuse,” said the Cuban, frowning.

“No, sir, I agree. Here’s my hand upon it.”

He held out his hand, which the Cuban caught and pressed hastily.

“Viva!” he exclaimed, his face flushing with pleasure.

“You will both be rich as princes. Our friend here goes too?”

“Yes, I shall take him with us,” said Mr Parkley.

Dutch started in wonder at what seemed so rash a proceeding.

“And he must share, too,” said the Cuban, warmly.

“Yes; he will be my partner,” said Mr Parkley.

“And when do we start – to-morrow?”

“To-morrow!” laughed Mr Parkley. “No, sir; it will take us a month to fit out our expedition.”

“A month?”

“At least. We must go well prepared, and not fail for want of means.”

“Yes, yes, that is good.”

“And all this takes time. Trust me, sir, I shall not let the grass grow under my feet.”

“I do not understand the grass grow,” said the Cuban.

“I mean I shall hurry on the preparations,” said Mr Parkley.

The Cuban nodded his satisfaction; when the rest of the morning was spent in discussing the matter; and, though the visitor was extremely careful not to say a word that might give a hint as to the locality of the treasure, it became more and more evident that he was no empty enthusiast, but one who had spent years in the search, and had had his quest browned with success.

Several days passed in this way, during which great success attended the raising of the copper, and a proper deed of agreement had been drawn up and duly signed between the parties to the proposed expedition, at which, however, Dutch had said but little at his own home, lest he should cause his wife, who had been delicate since their marriage, any uneasiness.

The strange fancies that had troubled him had been almost forgotten, and in spite of himself he had become somewhat tinged by the Cuban’s enthusiasm, and often found himself dwelling on the pleasure of being possessed of riches such as were described.

“It would make her a lady,” he argued; “and if anything happened to me she would be above want.”

He was musing in this way one morning, when Mr Parkley came to him, they having dined together with the Cuban on the previous evening at his hotel.

“Well, Pugh,” he said, “I’m getting more faith every day. Lorry’s a gentleman.”

“Yes,” said Dutch, “he is most polished in his ways, and I must say I begin to feel a great deal of faith in him myself.”

“That’s well,” said Mr Parkley, rubbing his hands. “You’ll have to go with us.”

“I’m afraid, sir, you must – ”

“Excuse you? No, I don’t think I can. Besides, Pugh, you would go with me as my partner, for I shall have all that settled.”

“You are very, very kind, sir,” said Dutch, flushing with pleasure.

“Nonsense, man,” cried Mr Parkley; “all selfishness. You and I can do so much together. See how useful you are to me, partner.”

“Not your partner yet, sir.”

“Yes, you are, Pugh,” said the other, slapping him on the shoulder; “and now we’ll go in for calculations and arrangements for the expedition. I was thinking the schooner would do, but I find it would be too small, so I shall set Captain Studwick to look out for a good brig or a small barque, and take him into our confidence to some extent.”

“Not wholly?”

“No; and yet, perhaps, it would be as well. And now, Pugh, I’ve got a favour to ask of you.”

“Anything, sir, that I can do I will do with all my heart,” replied Pugh, enthusiastically.

“I knew you would,” replied Mr Parkley. “You see, this is a big thing, my lad, and will be the making of us both, and Lorry is a very decent fellow.”

“Decidedly,” said Pugh, wondering at what was coming.

“Well, I must be as civil to him as I can, and so will you, of course.”

“Of course.”

“He’s taken a great fancy to you, by-the-way, and praises you sky-high.”

“Indeed!”

“Yes; and look here, Pugh, he has got to be tired of this hotel where he is, and wants society. I can’t ask him to my shabby place, so I want you to oblige me by playing the host.”

Pugh started as if he had been stung.

“Nothing could be better,” continued Mr Parkley, who did not notice the other’s emotion. “Ask him to come and stay at your little place. Mrs Pugh has things about her in so nice and refined a way that you can make him quite at home. You will gain his confidence, too, and we shall work better for not being on mere hard business terms.”

Dutch felt his brain begin to swim.

“I’ll come as often as I can, and we shall be making him one of us. The time will pass more pleasantly for him, and there’ll be no fear of somebody else getting hold of him to make better terms.”

“Yes – exactly – I see,” faltered Pugh, whose mind was wandering towards home, and who recalled the Cuban’s openly expressed admiration for his wife.

“The dear little woman,” continued Mr Parkley, “could take him out for a drive while you are busy, and you can have music and chess in the evenings. You’ll have to live better, perhaps; but mind, my dear fellow, we are not going to let you suffer for that, and you must let me send you some wine, and a box or two of cigars. We must do the thing handsomely for him.”

“Yes, of course,” said Dutch vaguely.

“Quite a stranger here, you know, and by making him a friend, all will go on so much more smoothly afterwards.”

“Exactly,” said Dutch again.

“But how dreamy you are? What are you thinking about?”

Dutch started, for in spite of his love and trust he was thinking of the handsome Cuban being installed at his home, and always in company with his innocent young wife, while he was away busy over his daily avocations.

“I beg pardon; did I seem thinking?”

“That you did. But never mind; you’ll do this for me, Pugh?”

“Certainly, if you wish it,” said Dutch, making an effort; while the figure of the Cuban seemed to be coming like a dark shadow across his life.

“Well, yes, I do wish it, Pugh, and I am very much obliged. By-the-way, though, what will she say to your going out on the expedition?”

Dutch shook his head.

“By Jove, I never thought of that,” said Mr Parkley. “Poor little woman, it will be too bad. I tell you what, I was going to get old Norton to mind the business. I will not. You shall stay at home.”

“I should like to go,” said Pugh, quietly; “but situated as I am, I should be glad if I could stay.”

“So you shall, Pugh – so you shall,” said Mr Parkley. And nodding his head over and over again, he left Dutch to his thoughts.

He left for home that night with the cloud seeming to darken round him. He felt that under the circumstances he was bound to accede to his partner’s wishes, and yet he was about to take this man, a stranger, to his own sacred hearth, and he shuddered again and again at the ideas that forced themselves upon his brain.

“I’ve said I’ll receive him,” he said at last, half aloud; “but it is not yet too late. Hester shall decide, and if she says ‘No,’ why there’s an end of it all.”

A short run by the rail took him to his pleasant little home – a small house, almost a cottage, with its tolerably large grounds and well-kept lawn. The little dining and drawing-rooms were shaded by a broad green verandah, over which the bedroom of the young couple looked down, in summer, upon a perfect nest of trailing roses.

Dutch gave a sigh of satisfaction as he saw the bright, sunny look of pleasure that greeted him, and for the next hour he had forgotten the dark shadow as he related to his young wife the great advance in their future prospects.

“I do love that dear old Mr Parkley so,” she cried, enthusiastically. “And now, Dutch, dear, tell me all about why this foreign gentleman is taking up so much of your time. Why, darling, is anything the matter?”

Dutch sighed again, but it was with satisfaction, as with a mingling of tender love and anxiety the little woman rose, and, throwing one arm round his neck, laid her soft little cheek to his.

“Matter! No, dear. Why?” he said, trying to smile.

“You looked so dull and ill all at once, as if in some pain.”

“Did I? Oh, it was nothing, only I was a little bothered.”

“May I know what about?”

“Well, yes, dear,” he said, playing with her soft hair, as he drew her down upon his knee. “The fact is that Mr Parkley is anxious for some attention to be paid to this Cuban gentleman – this Mr Lauré.”

“And he wants us to ask him here,” said Hester, gravely; and for a moment a look of pain crossed her face.

“Yes. How did you know?” he cried, startled at her words.

“I can’t tell,” she replied, smiling again directly. “I seemed to know what you were going to say by instinct.”

“But we cannot have him here, can we?” said Dutch, eagerly. “It would inconvenience you so.”

She remained silent for a moment, and a warm flush appeared upon her face as he gazed at her searchingly; for it was evident that a struggle was going on within her breast, and she was debating as to what she should say. Then, to his great annoyance, she replied —

“I don’t think that we ought to refuse Mr Parkley this request, dear. I hardly liked the idea at first, and this Mr Lauré did not impress me favourably when we met.”

Dutch’s face brightened.

“But,” she continued, “I have no doubt I shall like him very much, and we will do all we can to make his stay a pleasant one.”

Dutch remained silent, and a frown gathered on his brow for a few moments; but the next moment he looked up, smiling on the sweet ingenuous countenance before him, feeling ashamed of the doubts and fancies that had intruded.

“You are right, dear,” he said, cheerfully. “It is a nuisance, for I don’t like any one coming between us and spoiling our evenings; but it will not be for long, and he has come about an enterprise that may bring us a considerable sum.”

“I’ll do all I can, dear,” she cried, cheerfully.

And then, going to the piano, the tones of her voice fell upon the ears of Dutch Pugh even as the melodies of David on the troubled spirit of Saul of old, for as the young husband lay back in his chair, and listened to his favourite songs – sung, it seemed to him, more sweetly than ever – the tears gathered in his eyes, and he closed them, feeling that the evil spirit that assailed his breast had been exorcised, and that the cruel doubts and fears were bitter sins against a pure, sweet woman, who loved him with all her soul; and he cursed his folly as he vowed that he never again would suffer such fancies to gain an entrance to his breast.

For quite an hour they sat thus, she singing in her soft, low voice ballad after ballad that she knew he loved; and he lying back there, dreamily drinking in the happiness that was his, and thanking Heaven for his lot. For the shadow was beaten back, and true joy once more reigned supreme.

He was roused from his delicious reverie by the touch of two soft, warm lips on his forehead.

“Asleep, darling?” whispered Hester.

“Asleep? No,” he cried, in a low, deep voice, as he drew her to his heart. “Awake, darling – wide awake to the fact that I am the happiest of men in owning all your tender, true, womanly love.”

As he spoke his lips sought hers, and with a sigh of content, and a sweet smile lighting up her gentle face, Hester’s arms clasped his neck, and she nestled closer to his breast.

Story 1-Chapter V.

A Waking Dream

The next day, after a long and busy discussion, in which Lauré took eager interest, and during which plans were made as to stores, arms for protection against the Indians of the coast they were to visit, lifting and diving apparatus, and the like, the Cuban was installed at the cottage, and that first night Dutch saw again upon his face that intense admiration the dark, warm-blooded Southerner felt for the fair young English girl. For girl she still was, with a girl’s ways, prettily mingled with her attempts to play the part of mistress of her own house. The young husband felt a pang of jealous misery await him as he sat back in the shade of his prettily-furnished drawing-room, seeing their visitor hover about the piano while Hester sang, paying endless attentions with the polish and courtesy of a foreigner, various little refined acts – such as would never have occurred to the bluff young Englishman.

“I’m a jealous fool – that’s what I am,” said Dutch to himself; “and if I go on like this I shall be wretched all the time he is here. I won’t have it – I won’t believe it. She is beautiful – God bless her! and no man could see her without admiring her. I ought to be proud of his admiration instead of letting it annoy me; for, of course, it’s his foreign way of showing it. An Englishman would be very different; but what right have I to fancy for a moment that this foreign gentleman, my guest, would harbour a thought that was not honourable to me? There, it’s all gone.”

He brightened up directly; and as, with a pleasant smile, Lauré came to him soon afterwards and challenged him to a game of chess, the evening passed pleasantly away.

The days glided on rapidly enough, with Dutch Pugh always repeating to himself the stern reproof that he was unjust to his guest and to his young wife to allow a single thought of ill to enter his heart; and to keep these fancies away he worked harder than ever at the preparations for the voyage, being fain, though, to confess that one thing that urged him on was the desire to be rid of his guest.

“I don’t think much of these furren fellows,” said Rasp, one day, when, after a shorter stay than usual at the offices, Lauré had effusively pressed Dutch’s hand and gone back to the cottage. “How does Mrs Pug like him?”

Dutch started, but said, quietly —

“Suppose we get on with the packing of that air-pump, Rasp. You had better get in a couple of the men.”

“All right,” grumbled the old fellow; “I wasn’t going to leave it undone; but if I was a married man with a ’ansum wife, ’ang me if I should care about having a smooth-tongued, dark-eyed, scented foreign monkey of a chap like that at my house.”

“You insolent old scoundrel!” cried Dutch, flashing into a rage; and he caught the old fellow by the throat, but loosened him again with an impatient “Pish!”

Rasp seized the poker and sent the red-hot cinders flying as he stoked away at the fire.

“I desire that you never speak to me again like that. How dare you!”

“Oh, all right, Mr Pug, I won’t speak again,” said Rasp. “I didn’t mean no offence. I only said what I thought, and that was as I didn’t like to see that furren chap always a-hanging after going back to your house, when he ought to be here, helping to see to the things getting ready.”

“Rasp!” said Dutch angrily.

“Well, so he ought to, instead of being away. Nobody wants him to take off his yaller kid gloves and work, but he might look on. He’s going to be a niste one, he is, when he gets out in the place where we’re a-going. He’ll have a hammock slung and a hawning over it when he gets out in the hot sunshine, that’s about what he’ll do, and lie on his back and smoke cigarettes while one works. Say, Mr Pug, I wish you was going with us!”

He went and had another stoke at the fire, and glanced at Dutch’s back, for he was writing, and made no response. “Sulky, and won’t speak,” muttered Rasp; and, going out, banged the door after him.

“The fancies of a vulgar mind,” said Dutch to himself, as soon as he was alone. “The coarse belief of one who cannot understand the purity of feeling and thought of a true woman; and I actually let such ideas have a place in my breast. Bah! It’s disgraceful!”

He glanced round the office, and then angrily devoted himself once more to his work, for it seemed as if the great goggle-eyed diving-helmets were once more bending forward and laughing at him derisively.

“I will not have this office made so hot,” he muttered impatiently; and he worked on for some time, but only to fall dreaming again, as he said, “A little more than a fortnight and we shall be ready. Good luck to the expedition. I wish it were gone.”

Then, in spite of himself, he began thinking about the conduct of Lauré at his house, and wishing earnestly that he had never agreed to his reception as a guest.

“But, there, he is a perfect gentleman,” he argued; “and his conduct to me is almost too effusive. Little Hester must find him all that could be desired, or she would complain. Hallo, who is this?”

“Company to see you,” said Rasp, roughly; and, as Dutch left his stool, it was to meet Captain Studwick’s invalid son and his sister, who came in, accompanied by a quiet, gentlemanly-looking young man, whom he introduced as Mr Meldon.

“The medical gentleman who attends me now,” said John Studwick, smiling; “not that I want much, do I, Mr Meldon?”

“Well, no, we will not call you an invalid, Mr Studwick,” said the stranger.

“Fact is,” said John Studwick, “I’ve set up a medical man of my own. Mr Meldon is going with us on the voyage.”

“What voyage?” said Dutch, eagerly.

“Oh, you don’t know, of course,” said John Studwick, laughing. “My father thinks a sea voyage will set me right, and I am going in the Sea King. Bessy’s going too.”

“Indeed,” said Dutch, looking from one to the other, while Bessy coloured slightly, and turned away.

“Yes, it’s just settled this morning. Mr Parkley is willing, so we shall have a sea voyage and adventure too. I say, Mr Pugh, you asked me to come to your house.”

“Yes, and I shall be very glad,” said Dutch, smiling.

“Well, can we fix a day when we may be introduced to this Spanish Cuban gentleman? I’m curious to know my fellow-passenger. Sick man’s fancy.”

“Thursday week, then,” said Dutch, eagerly. “Mr Meldon, perhaps, will join us.”

“I shall be very happy,” replied that individual.

And he glanced at Bessy, who coloured again slightly; and then, after a few words about the voyage, in which John Studwick expressed his regret that Dutch was not going on the expedition, the little party went away.

“If I’m not mistaken,” said Dutch to himself, as he climbed to his stool, “there’s somebody there to heal the sore place in poor Bessy’s heart. Poor girl! If I was not coxcombical to say so, I should think she really was fond of me. There, come forth, little loadstone,” he said, with a look of intense love lighting up his countenance, and raising the lid of his desk he took from a drawer a photographic carte of his wife, and set it before him, to gaze at it fondly.

“I don’t think I could have cared for Bessy Studwick, darling, even if there had been no Hester in the world.”

As he gazed tenderly at the little miniature of his wife’s features, there seemed to come a peculiar look in the eyes – the expression on the face became one of pain.

He knew it was fancy, but he gazed on at the picture till his imagination took a wider leap, and as if it were quite real, so real that in his disturbed state he could not have declared it untrue, he saw Hester seated in their own room, with every object around clearly defined, her head bent forward, and the Cuban kneeling at her feet, and pressing her hands to his lips.

So real was the scene that he started away from the desk with a loud cry, oversetting his stool, and letting the heavy desk lid fall with a crash.

In a moment Rasp ran into the office, armed with a heavy diver’s axe, and then stood staring in amazement.

“Is any one gone mad?” he growled.

“It was nothing, Rasp,” said Dutch, wiping the perspiration from his forehead.

“I never heard nothing make such a row as that afore,” growled Rasp.

And then, putting the axe down, he made for the poker, had a good stoke at the fire, and went out muttering.

Dutch opened the desk on the instant, but the scene was gone, and hastily closing the lid again he began to pace the room.

For a moment his intention was to rush off home, but he restrained himself for the time, and tried to recall the past; but his brain was in a whirl. At last he grew more calm, and took out his watch.

“Only five o’clock,” and he had said that he should get some dinner where he was, stop late at work, and not be home till after nine.

He was to stay there and work for another three or four hours – to make calculations that required all his thought, when he had seen or conjured up that dreadful sight. No: he could not bear it. His nerves tingled, his brain was throbbing, and incipient madness seemed to threaten his reason as he prepared to obey the influence that urged him to go home.

“The villain!” he groaned. “It must be a warning. Heaven help me, I will know the worst.”

Story 1-Chapter VI.

A Pleasant Evening

Dutch Pugh seized his hat and coat, and was about to dash into the street, when the remembrance of that evening before the coming of the Cuban came upon him, and he replaced them.