Dutch the Diver: or, A Man's Mistake

“Oh, no, it is impossible,” exclaimed Dutch.

“If I had known my man sooner, I would have seen him at Hanover before I would have had anything to do with him. But look here, my dear Pugh, I couldn’t help hearing a great deal about your domestic trouble. Haven’t you been wronging the little woman?”

“If you have any respect or feeling for me, Mr Parkley, say no more.”

“All right, my dear fellow,” said the other, with a sigh, “I will not; only act like a sensible man in all things – home and business. Heigho, I really wish I was not going, but the idea of these hidden treasures sets me on fire.”

Mr Parkley forgot all his hesitation as they stepped on board and saw how – in spite of the bustle and confusion consequent upon receiving late supplies of fresh meat and vegetables – ship-shape and excellent were Captain Studwick’s arrangements. John Studwick was on board, seated upon a wicker chair, and his sister beside him; Mr Meldon, the young doctor, was leaning over the bulwarks, with a very tall, thin young man, the naturalist friend; the sailors were busy lowering bales and arranging coops and hens; and all was ready for the start – in fact, the dockmen were ready to warp the schooner out, and after a short run behind a tug down the harbour, they would have the open Channel before them.

There was a goodly concourse of people about the wharves, for the object of the schooner’s trip had somehow gained wind, and while some expressed interest and curiosity in the voyage, others laughingly called it a fool’s errand.

“Has anybody seen Señor Lorry?” said Mr Parkley at last.

“I had a note from him,” said Captain Studwick, “He said he would be down here punctually at twelve. Has his luggage come, Oakum?”

“None on it, sir,” said the rough old sailor, pulling his forelock.

“That’s strange,” said the captain. “When did you see him, Parkley?”

“Last night, and he said he would be aboard in the morning, and glad of it, for he was sick of England.”

“Twelve o’clock now,” said the captain. “Well, the tide serves; I must give the word for getting out of dock. He must have a longer row for being late. He’s sure to come, of course.”

“Oh, yes,” said Mr Parkley; but he glanced uneasily at Dutch, as if he did not feel sure.

“Ready there,” cried the captain. “Now, my lads, be handy – cast off those ropes for’ard. Oh, here he is. Hold hard there.”

“But where’s his luggage?” said Mr Parkley.

“Oh, behind the crowd,” said the captain. “Come along, sir, we were going without you.”

“Indeed!” said the Cuban, with a smile. “I doubt that. Where would you go?”

“Where Mr Parkley told me,” said the captain. “Give me the order. I’ll find the place. Let’s see, Mr Pugh, we are to send you back in the tug, I suppose.”

Dutch nodded.

“Now, then, for’ard there,” cried the captain; “be ready to cast off. Are you ready?”

“Ay, ay,” came in chorus from the smart, well-picked crew.

“Stop!” exclaimed Lauré in a loud voice, and, turning to Mr Parkley, he pointed to Dutch and said, “That is your partner, is it not, Mr Parkley?”

“Yes, certainly.”

“And he will share in the profits of this expedition?”

“Certainly he will, sir.”

“Then, sir, I break our engagement. I shall have nothing to do with the voyage. The matter is entirely off.”

“Confound it all, sir!” cried Mr Parkley, in a passion. “You can’t do that.”

“But, sir, I have done it,” said the Cuban, lighting a cigar.

“What! After I’ve spent all this money in preparation?”

“I have told you,” said the Cuban, contemptuously – and he gave a malignant glance at Dutch.

“Mr Parkley,” said Dutch, stepping forward, “my private quarrel with this man shall not stand in your way. All this preparation has been made for the expedition, and my being your partner shall not stop it. Sir, our partnership is at an end.”

“Is it?” said Mr Parkley, with his teeth set. “No, I’ll be hanged if it is;” and as the men gathered round, wondering at what they had heard, he laid his hand on Dutch Pugh’s shoulder. “I’ve proved you, my lad, but I’ve not proved this man, who at the first touch bends and nearly breaks. We are partners, and mean to stay so, and Mr Lorry here will have to keep to his bond, or I’ll soon see what the law says to him.”

The Cuban smiled contemptuously.

“Suppose I say it was all a mad dream, and I know of no such place: what then?”

“Why, you are a bigger scoundrel than I took you for.”

“Sir!” cried the Cuban, menacingly.

“Oh, you want to frighten me with your big looks, sir,” cried Mr Parkley. “Now then, I ask you in plain English, will you fulfil your undertaking, and show me the place where the old Spanish galleons are sunk?”

“No,” said the Cuban, coolly, “I will not help to enrich my enemy!” and he again looked indignantly at Dutch.

“Mr Parkley!” exclaimed the latter, “I cannot see all this costly enterprise ruined because of my private trouble with this villain.”

“Villain!” cried Lauré, confronting Dutch, whose face flushed and whose hands were half raised to seize his enemy.

“Be silent,” he said, in a low, hoarse voice, “I’ve that within me that I can hardly control. If you rouse it again, by the God who made me, I’ll strangle you and hurl you over the side.”

The Cuban involuntarily shrank from the menacing face before him, and Dutch by a strong effort turned to Mr Parkley.

“Make terms with him, sir. I will not stand in your way.”

“Yes, I’ll make terms with him,” exclaimed Mr Parkley, angrily. “Now, sir, I ask you again will you fulfil your contract?”

The Cuban half-closed his eyes, puffed forth a ring of smoke, and said quietly, —

“In my country, when one man strikes another the insult is washed out in blood. Your bold partner there has struck me, a weaker man than himself, and I cannot avenge the insult, for you cold islanders here boast of your courage, but you will not equalise the weak and strong by placing the sword, the knife, or the pistol in their hands. You say no; that is the law. You call in your police. Fools! cowards! do you think that will satisfy me?”

“Did Mr Pugh strike you, then?” said Mr Parkley.

“Yes, three cruel blows,” hissed the Cuban, with his face distorted with rage.

“Then you must have deserved it,” cried Mr Parkley.

“You think so,” said the Cuban, growing unnaturally calm again. “Then I say I must have satisfaction somehow. Your partner makes me his enemy, and you must suffer. I shall not fulfil my contract. I will not take you where the galleons lie. You have made your preparations. Good. You must suffer for it, even as I suffer. I give up one of the dreams of my life. I will not go.”

A pang shot through Dutch Pugh’s breast, for in this refusal to depart he saw an excuse to remain in England, and once more the hot blood rose to his face.

“You absolutely refuse, then, to show Captain Studwick and me where the objects we seek are hid?” said Mr Parkley, turning up his cuffs as if he meant to fight; and the Cuban’s hand went into his breast.

“I absolutely refuse,” said the Cuban, disdainfully.

“You know, I suppose, that you forfeit half the result,” said Mr Parkley.

“Yes,” said the Cuban, moving towards the gangway, “I know I lose half the result.”

“You know I have spent five thousand pounds in preparations,” said Mr Parkley, calmly.

“Yes,” sneered the Cuban, “and you have your law. Go to it for revenge; it may please you.”

“No,” said Mr Parkley, looking round at the frowning faces of his friends; “that means spending another thousand to gain the day, and nothing to be obtained of a beggarly Cuban adventurer, who has neither money nor honour.”

“Take care!” cried Lauré, flashing into rage, and baring his teeth like some wild cat. But the next instant, with wonderful self-command, he cooled down, standing erect, proud and handsome, with his great black beard half-way down his breast. “Bah!” he exclaimed, “the English diving-master is angry, and stoops to utter coward’s insults.”

“I’ll show you, Mr Lorry, that I am no coward over this,” said Mr Parkley, firmly. “You mean to throw us over, then, now that we are ready to start.”

“You threaten to throw me over,” said the Cuban, smiling disdainfully. “If you mean, do I still refuse to go, I say yes! yes! yes! You and your partner shall never touch a single bar of the treasure. Ha! ha! What will you do now?”

“Start without you,” said Mr Parkley, coolly. “Captain Studwick, see that this man goes ashore.”

The Cuban was already close to the gangway, but he turned sharply round, and took a couple of steps towards the last speaker.

“What!” he said, with a look of apprehension flashing out of his eyes. “You will go yourself without one to guide you?”

“Yes,” said Mr Parkley; “and if you went down on your knees now to beg me, damme, sir, you’ve broke your contract, and I wouldn’t take you.”

“Ha – ha – ha – ha – ha!” laughed the Cuban, derisively, as he quickly recovered his composure. “A beggarly threat. Do you not know that it took me five years of constant toil to make the discovery? and you talk like this!”

“Yes,” said Mr Parkley. “It took a beggarly mongrel foreigner five years, no doubt; but it would not take an enterprising Englishman five weeks.”

The Cuban’s hand went into his breast again as he heard the words “beggarly mongrel foreigner,” and Captain Studwick grasped a marlin-spike, ready to strike his arm down if he drew a weapon; but the rage was crushed down directly, and Lauré laughed again derisively.

“Go, then, fools, if you like. But I know: it is an empty threat. Ha, ha, ha! Go alone. A pleasant voyage, Señor Parkley, and you, too, Señor Captain. You will perhaps find me there before you.”

“Perhaps,” said Mr Parkley. “But go I will, and hang me if I come back till I have found it.”

“Well, for the matter o’ that, Master Parkley and Capen Studwick,” said a rough voice, “if it means putting the schooner at anchor where them Spanish galleons was sunk in the Carib Sea, if you’ll let me take the wheel, and you’ll find fine weather, I’ll steer you to the very spot.”

Story 1-Chapter IX.

’Pollo’s Evidence

“What?” shrieked the Cuban, rushing forward, with outstretched hands, but only to control himself directly and smile contemptuously.

“I says as I’ll clap this here schooner right over two or three spots where old ships went down, and also off the coast where one on ’em lies buried in the sand, all but her ribs and a few planks,” said the old sailor, Sam Oakum.

“He’s a liar – a cheat. Bah!” exclaimed the Cuban with contempt.

“I wouldn’t adwise you to say them sorter things, gov’nor,” said Oakum, quietly. “I knowd a chap as rubbed the skin off the bridge of his nose wunst and blacked both his eyes agin my fist for saying less than that.”

“Bah!” said the Cuban, snapping his fingers.

“And do you know, Oakum?” exclaimed Mr Parkley, eagerly. “Can you prove it?”

“If anybody would pass a man a bit o’ ’bacco, I could, I dessay,” said the old fellow quietly. “Thanky, mate. Just pass the word for ’Pollo to come aft, will you? He’s in the galley.”

A sailor who had given Oakum the tobacco ran forward, while all waited in breathless attention – the Cuban standing like a statue, with folded arms, but, in spite of his apparent composure, smoking furiously, like a volcano preparing for an eruption.

The sailor came back directly.

“Says he’s cooking the passengers’ dinner, and can’t leave it, sir,” said the sailor.

“Tell the cook to come here directly. I want him,” exclaimed the captain, sternly; and the sailor ran off, returning with ’Pollo, the black cook, rubbing his shiny face.

“I speck, sah, if de rose meat burn himself all up, you no blame de cook, sah,” he said.

“No, no, ’Pollo; only answer a question or two.”

“Yes, sah; d’reckly, sah.”

“Look ye here, ’Pollo, old mate,” said Oakum; “you and I have had some rum voyages in our time, old nigger.”

“You call me ole mate, sah,” said ’Pollo, angrily, “I answer hundred tousan queshtum. You call me nigger, sah, I dam if I say noder word.”

“It’s all right, ’Pollo, I won’t any more. You’re a coloured gentleman; and, though I chaff you sometimes, I know that I can always depend on you, fair weather or foul.”

The black nodded, showed his white teeth, and his eyes twinkled.

“Now look here, ’Pollo, old man; do you remember being in the little brig off Caraccas, when we had the gold?”

“Yes, sah, I membah well; and membah when we had do tree hundred lilly women aboard de big ship, and de big horse alligator woman. Yah, yah, yah!”

“So do I, ’Pollo; but what did we do when we were in the brig?”

“Catch de fish,” said ’Pollo.

“To be sure we did; but what did we find lying down fathoms deep in the clear water?”

“You mean de ole ’Panish gold ship, sah?”

“There!” said Sam Oakum, turning round with a grim smile on his mahogany face; “Ain’t that there corroborative evidence, sir?”

“We find two ole ship, sah, and one on de shore,” said ’Pollo, volubly, “and I dibe down, sah.”

“Did you find anything?” said Mr Parkley, eagerly.

“No, sah, him too deep down, but I membah perfect well, sah, all about ’em. All ’Panish ship, sah.”

“That will do, ’Pollo,” said Mr Parkley. “Now go and see to the dinner. By-the-way, ’Pollo, will you come into the cabin after dinner, and join Mr Oakum in drinking a glass of wine to the success of our voyage?”

“I hab great pleasure, sah,” said the black, with his eyes twinkling; and as he went away bowing and smiling, Mr Parkley turned to the Cuban.

“Now, Mr Lorry, or Lauré, or whatever your name is, will you have the goodness to step ashore? This is my ship, and this expedition belongs to me and my partner. You have refused to carry out your contract before twenty witnesses, and now you see that I can do without you.”

“But,” said Lauré, “the man is mad. He cannot take you; but I will not carry my revenge so far. Make me a good concession and I will consent to go.”

“I thank you, Señor Lauré, for endorsing the statement of our old friend, Oakum, and the ship’s cook, and since you are so kind, I will make you a concession.”

“You consent,” said the Cuban, more eagerly than he intended.

“Yes,” said Mr Parkley. “You shall be allowed to walk off the ship instead of being kicked off. Captain Studwick, see that man off this deck.”

A look that was almost demoniacal overspread the Cuban’s face, and shaking his fist menacingly, he stepped on to the wharf and disappeared through the crowd.

“Now, then,” said Mr Parkley, triumphantly, “we are ready. Captain Studwick, westward ho! Hallo, what now? What is it, Rasp?” as that individual came panting up.

“Are you sure as you’ve got all your company aboard?” said Rasp.

“Yes, I think so. Eh, captain?”

“My crew is all right, certainly,” said the captain. “I don’t know anything about yours.”

“To be sure, I did not think to look after them as they had promised to be aboard in good time. Where are John Tolly and James Morrison?”

“What, them?” said Oakum. “Oh, they came aboard at nine this morning.”

“Yes,” said one of the sailors, “but they went ashore again about ten; I saw ’em go.”

“There,” said Rasp, “where would you have been without me? I see John Tolly go by the orfice half-an-hour ago, so drunk he could hardly walk, and Morrison as well, and – ”

“Tut, tut, tut! we must have them,” exclaimed Mr Parkley. “The scoundrels! to deceive us like this. Pugh, come ashore, we must get the police to help us.”

“Then we shall not sail to-day,” said the captain, with a shrug. “Never mind, we shall have the more time for getting ship-shape.”

“Nonsense!” said Mr Parkley eagerly; “we shall soon be back.”

The captain shook his head, for he knew better; and night had fallen, and no more had been seen of the two divers on whom so much depended.

As the day wore on, Mr Parkley and Dutch returned to the ship two or three times to report progress, if such it could be called, for nothing was heard of the two divers.

“Dutch Pugh,” said Mr Parkley, on one of these meetings, “I shall never forgive myself. Here am I, as I thought, such a business-like man, and what do I do but go and forget to look after the very mainspring of my works. I fit all my wheels together, and then when I want to wind up there’s no springs. What should we have done without divers?”

Night closed in without success, and a little party assembled in the cabin, for as the ship might sail at any time, those who occupied the place of passengers felt that it was hardly worth while to return ashore. Mr Parkley kept a bright face on the matter, but it was evident that he was a good deal dispirited, though he chatted merrily enough, and talked to John Studwick and his sister of the beauties of the land they were about to visit.

“If we get off, Mr Parkley,” said John Studwick, quietly.

“Get off, sir; why of course we shall. These two scoundrels will come off to-morrow morning, penniless, and with sick headaches. The rascals!”

Mr Parkley was reckoning without his host, for at that moment the two divers, each with twenty pounds in his pocket above the advance pay he had drawn, were on their way to London, and the man who had given the money was now forward in the darkest part of the deck, crouching beneath the high bulwarks of the large three-masted schooner, whispering with one of the men.

Their discussion seemed to take a long time, but it ended in the other man of the watch joining them, and the conversation still went on.

It was interrupted by the coming on deck of Captain Studwick, and silence ensued, while the captain took a turn round the deck, and gave an eye to the riding lights, for, as evening had come on, the vessel had been warped out of dock, and lay a couple of hundred yards out in the great estuary, fast to one of the buoys.

“We might have some of the lads taking a fancy to go on shore,” he had said to Mr Parkley, when he complained of having to take a boat to come off; “and we shall be all the more ready to drop down with the tide. I don’t want to find my crew like yours to-morrow morning – missing.”

Finding all apparently quite right, and the lanterns burning, brightly, Captain Studwick took another turn round the deck, peeped down into the forecastle, where the men were talking and smoking, then went right forward and looked over at the hawser fast to the buoy, said a word or two of warning to the men, and went below.

It was now ten o’clock, and excessively dark – so dark that it was impossible to see across the deck, and the lights hoisted up in the rigging seemed like great stars. The buzz of conversation in the forecastle had grown much more subdued, and then suddenly ceased, though a dull buzzing murmur could be heard from the deckhouse, where the dim light of a smoky lantern, hung from the roof, shone upon the bright cooking apparatus with which the place was furnished, and upon the glistening teeth of ’Pollo, the black cook, and Oakum, the old sailor, both smoking, and in earnest converse.

“Yes, ’Pollo,” said Oakum, “it seemed to bring up old times, and some of our vyges, so I thought I’d come and have a palaver before we turned in.”

“I glad to see you, Mass’ Sam Oakum, sah, and I hope you often gin me de pleasure ob your company during de voyage. I ’spect you, Mass’ Oakum, and you always ’spect colour genlum, sah, dough we use quarrel some time.”

“Only chaff, ’Pollo.”

“Course it was, sah, only chaff, and nuffum at all. And now I tink ob it, sah, I hav ’plendid ’rangement here, and supply for de cooking; and when, by an’ by, you find de beef too salt, and de biscuit too hard, juss you drop in here, sah, after dark, and ’Pollo most likely find lilly bit ob somefin nice leff from de cabin dinner.”

“Thanky, ’Pollo, thanky,” said Oakum. “But what do you say, eh ship-mate? I think we can find the old galleons again?”

“I quite ’tent, sah, to put dis ship in de hands ob such sperienced navigator as Mass’ Sam Oakum, who know all ober de world quite perfeck. You tink we sail in de morning?”

“If they catch them two skulking scoundrels of divers, ’Pollo. I’d just like to ropesend that Mr John Tolly. Gets three times the pay o’ the other men, and is ten times as saucy.”

“’Top!”

“Eh?” said Oakum.

“What dat, Mass’ Oakum, sah?” said the black, whose eyes were rolling and ears twitching.

Oakum listened attentively for a few moments, and then went on.

“Nothing at all, my lad, that I could hear.”

“I sure I hear somefin, sah. Let’s go and see.”

They both stepped out on to the deck, and stood and listened, for it was impossible for them to see, though the light from the deckhouse made them stand out plainly in view if anyone else was on the watch.

They saw nothing, for as they stepped out, a man, who was stealing aft, dropped softly down and crouched under the bulwarks.

The hawsers creaked softly as they swung in the tide, and a faint light shone up from the forecastle hatch, while from aft there was a tolerably bright glow from the cabin skylight. Here and there the riding lights of other vessels rose and fell as they were swayed by the hurrying waters, while the lights of the shore twinkled like stars on a black background, but, saving the rippling noise of the tide against the great schooner’s side, all was perfectly still.

“False alarm, ’Pollo,” said Oakum, leading the way back.

“No, sah,” said ’Pollo, reseating himself, cross-legged, beneath the lantern. “I sure I hear somefin, sah, dough I no say what it was.”

“I’ve often wished for you as a mate in a dark watch, ’Pollo,” said Oakum, hewing off a quid of tobacco, and thrusting it into one cheek. “You would not go to sleep.”

“Not ob a night, sah,” said ’Pollo, complacently, “but I no so sure bout dat if de sun shine hot; I go sleep den fass enough.”

They had hardly resumed their conversation when the man who had dropped down under the bulwarks rose, and went softly by the deckhouse, walking rapidly aft to the side, where he climbed over, after running his hand along and finding a rope, slid down, and took his place in a large boat already half-full.

A few moments later and another man crept softly along the deck, went over the side, and slid into the boat.

Another and another followed, and then one man who had been waiting by the forecastle hatch, instead of going aft, opened a sharp knife and crept forward to where the stout coir hawser was made fast to the buoy. It was drawn very tight, for the tide was running in fast, and a few sharp cuts would have divided the strands, with the result that the schooner would have drifted up with the current, and, if it had not fouled, and perhaps sunk some smaller vessel in its course, have run ashore.

The man listened attentively but all was still, and raising his knife he began to saw through the strands, when, rising, he shut the knife with a snap and exclaimed:

“No, hang it all, I won’t. It’s too bad; and there’s a woman aboard. Bad enough as it is.”

Then following the example of those who had gone before, he went softly aft, feeling his way along the bulwarks till his hand came in contact with the rope, and he, too, slid down into the boat.

“Well, did you cut the great rope?” whispered a voice.

“Yes, gov’nor, all right. But not deep,” added the man to himself.

“Quick then, quick then,” whispered the former speaker, “undo this little rope and let the boat float away.”

The boat’s painter was loosened – but not without rattling the iron ring through which it was run – dropped over the side with a splash, and just faintly grating against the vessel’s side the boat glided away, appearing for a few moments in the faint glow cast from the stern windows, and then seeming to pass into a bank of utter darkness.

“I no care what you say, Mass’ Oakum, sah,” said ’Pollo a few moments before; and his great black ears seemed to start forward like those of a hare, “I sure I hear de rattle ob a rope; and you see if dare isn’t a boat under de side.”

He leaped softly up, and ran on deck, followed by Oakum.

“Dere, I sure I right,” whispered the black, pointing astern. “Boat full ob men.”

“I can’t see nowt,” growled Sam. “Let’s go forward and ask the look-out if they heerd anything. Hear a boat touch the side, mates?” he said aloud.

There was no answer.

“The lubbers are asleep,” he cried, angrily; and hurrying to where the men should have been, he found that they were missing, and ran to the hatchway. “Below there!” he shouted. “On deck here, some of yer!”