Hurricane Island

"By gum, Pye's done us brown—browner than a kipper! By gum, to think of that little wart getting the bulge on us!"

"I should like to know your reasons, doctor," said Prince Frederic at last.

"I'm hanged if I can puzzle it out yet myself," said Barraclough. "If they've got it, why the deuce do they come and demand it from us?"

"Oh, they haven't got it," I said. "It's only Holgate and Pye. The rank and file know nothing, I'll swear. As for my reasons, sir, here they are"; and with that I told them what I knew of Pye from my first meeting with him, giving an account of the transactions in the "Three Tuns," and narrating many incidents which now seemed in the light of my discovery to point to the treachery of the clerk. When I had done, Lane whistled, the Prince's brow was black, but Barraclough's face was impassive. He looked at me.

"Then you are of opinion that Holgate is running this show for himself?" he asked.

"I will wager ten to one on it," I answered. "That's like him. He'll leave the others in the lurch if he can. He's aiming at it. And he'll leave Pye there, too, I shouldn't wonder. And if so, what sort of a man is that to make terms with?"

Barraclough made no answer. For a man of his even nature he looked troubled.

"If this it so, what are you in favour of?" he said at last.

The Prince, too, looked at me inquiringly, which showed that he had fully accepted my theory.

"Go on as we are doing and trust to luck," said I.

"Luck!" said the Prince, raising his fingers. "Chance! Destiny! Providence! Whatever be the term, we must abide it. It is written, gentlemen; is has been always written. If God design us our escape, we shall yet avoid and upset the calculations of these ruffians. Yes, it is written. You are right, Dr. Phillimore. There must be no faint heart. Sir John, give your orders and make your dispositions. I will take my orders from you."

This significant speech was delivered with a fine spontaneity, and I must say the man's fervour impressed me. If he was a fatalist, he was a fighting fatalist, and I am sure he believed in his fortune. I was not able to do that; but I thought we had, in the vulgar phrase, a sporting chance. And that I was right events proved, as you will presently see.

CHAPTER XVII

The Third Attack

Holgate had given us till eight o'clock, but it was of course, uncertain if he would adhere to this hour. If I were right in my suppositions (and I could see no flaw in my reasoning), he would present himself at that time and carry out the farce. It was due to his men, to the other scoundrels of the pack whom he was cheating. And what would happen when we maintained that we had no knowledge of the treasure? It was clear that the men would insist on an assault. And if so, what chance had we against the infuriated ruffians? On the other hand, we had nothing to hope for from a compromise with such men. Altogether, the outlook was very black and lowering. When the Prince and all that remained with him were swept away, and were as if they had never been, Holgate would be free to deal with the mutineers according to his tender mercies; and then, with such confederates as he might have in the original plot, come into possession of the plunder for which so many innocent lives and so many guilty ones would have been sacrificed.

By now the wind had sprung into a gale, and the Sea Queen was running under bare sticks. The water rolled heavily from the southwest, and the yacht groaned under the buffets. It became difficult to stand—at least, for a landsman. We had hitherto experienced such equable, fine weather that I think we had taken for granted that it must continue. But now we were undeceived. The yacht pitched uneasily and rolled to her scuppers, and it was as much as we could do to keep our legs. Holgate, too, must have been occupied by the duties of his position, for he was a good mariner, which was, perhaps, as well for us. Chance decides according to her fancy, and the most trivial accidents are important in the scheme of destiny. Mademoiselle had an attack of mal de mer and had recourse to me. Nothing in the world mattered save her sensations, which were probably very unpleasant, I admit. But the yacht might go to the bottom, and Holgate might storm the state-rooms at the head of his mutineers—it was all one to the lady who was groaning over her symptoms on her bed. She kept me an unconscionable time, and when I at length got away to what I regarded as more important duties I was followed by her maid. This girl, Juliette, was a trim, sensible, and practical woman, who had grown accustomed to her mistress's vagaries, took them with philosophy, and showed few signs of emotion. But now a certain fear flowed in her eye.

Would Monsieur tell her if there were any danger? Monsieur looked up, balanced himself neatly against the wall, as the yacht reared, and declared that he had gone through much worse gales. She shook her head with some energy.

"No, no, it was not that. There were the sailors—those demons. Was it true that they had offered to put us all ashore?"

"Yes," said I, "if we give them what we have not got. That is what they promise, Juliette. But would you like to trust them?"

She considered a moment, her plain, capable face in thought. "No." She shook her head. "Mademoiselle would do well to beware of them. Yes, yes," and with a nod she left me.

Now what did that mean? I asked myself, and I could only jump to the conclusion that Mademoiselle had thoughts of making a bargain with Holgate on her own account. I knew she was capable of yielding to any caprice or impulse. If there had not been tragedy in the air it would have amused me to ponder the possibilities of that conflict of wits and brains between Holgate and the lady. But she was a victim to sea-sickness, and our hour drew near. Indeed, it was then but two hours to eight o'clock.

It was necessary to take such precautions as we might in case Holgate kept his word. But it was possible that in that wind and sea he would not. However, to be prepared for the worst, we had a council. There were now but the Prince, Barraclough, Lane and myself available, for Ellison was in a bad way. The spareness of our forces was thus betrayed by this meeting, which was in effect a council of despair. We made our arrangements as speedily as possible, and then I asked:

"The ladies? We must have some definite plan."

The Prince nodded. "They must be locked in the boudoir," he said. "It has entrances from both their cabins."

"The last stand, then, is there?" I remarked casually.

He echoed the word "there."

I had my duties in addition to those imposed by our dispositions, and I was not going to fail—I knew I should not fail. Outside in the corridor we sat and nursed our weapons silently. I don't think that any one was disposed to talk; but presently the Prince rose and retired to his room. He returned presently with a magnum of champagne, and Barraclough drew the cork, while Lane obtained some glasses.

"Let's have a wet. That's a good idea," said the purser.

The Prince ceremoniously lifted his glass to us and took our eyes.

Lane quaffed his, emitting his usual gag hoarsely.

"Fortune!"

How amazingly odd it sounded, like the ironic exclamation of some onlooking demon of sarcasm.

"Fortune!"

I drank my wine at a gulp. "To a good end, if may be," I said. "To rest, at least."

Barraclough held his glass coolly and examined it critically.

"It's Pommery, isn't it, sir?" he asked.

I do not think the Prince answered. Barraclough sipped.

"I'll swear it is," said he. "Let's look at the bottle, Lane."

He solved his doubts, and drank and looked at his watch. "If they're coming, they should be here now."

"The weather's not going to save us," I observed bitterly; "she goes smoother."

It was true enough. The wind and the sea had both moderated. Barraclough examined the chambers of his revolver.

"Sir John Barraclough!"

A voice hailed us loudly from the deck. Sir John moved slowly to the door and turned back to look at us. In its way it was an invitation. He did not speak, but I think he invoked our aid, or at least our support, in that look. We followed.

"Yes," he called back, "I'm here."

"We've come for the answer," said the voice. "You've had plenty of time to turn it over. So what's it to be—the terms offered or war?"

"Is it Holgate?" said Lane in a whisper.

"Oh, it's Holgate, no doubt. Steady! Remember who has the treasure, Barraclough."

"The treasure is not in our possession," sang out Barraclough. "But we believe it to be in the possession of Holgate—one of yourselves."

"Oh, come, that won't do—that game won't play," said a familiar wheezy voice from behind us, and we all fell back in alarm and amazement.

The boards had fallen loose from one of the windows, and Holgate's head protruded into the corridor. In a flash the Prince's fingers went to his revolver, and a report echoed from the walls, the louder for that confined space. Holgate had disappeared. Barraclough ran to the window and peered out. He looked round.

"That opens it," he said deliberately, and stood with a look of perplexity and doubt on his face.

"Since you have chosen war and begun the offensive we have no option," shouted Holgate through the boarding.

"All right, drive ahead," growled Lane, and sucked his teeth.

Crash came an iron bar on the door. Barraclough inserted his revolver through the open window and fired. "One," said he.

"Two, by thunder!" said Lane, discharging through one of the holes pierced in the door.

"They'll play us the same trick as before," said I, and dashed across to the entrance from the music-room.

Noises arose from below. I tested the locks and bars, and then running hastily into one of the cabins brought forth a table and used it to strengthen the barricade. Prince Frederic, observing this, nodded and gave instructions to Lane, who went on a similar errand on behalf of the other door.

Crash fell the axe on my door, and the wood splintered. Lane and Prince Frederic were busy firing through the loopholes, with what result I could not guess, and probably they themselves knew little more. Barraclough stood at his peephole and fired now and then, and I did the same through the holes drilled in my door. But it must have been easy for any one on the outside to avoid the line of fire if he were careful. I was reminded that two could play at this game by a bullet which sang past my face and buried itself in the woodwork behind me. The light was now failing fast, and we fought in a gloaming within those walls, though without the mutineers must have seen better. The axe fell again and again, and the door was giving in several places. Once there was a respite following on a cry, and I rejoiced that one of my shots had gone home. But the work was resumed presently with increased vigour.

And now of a sudden an outcry on my left startled me. I turned, and saw Prince Frederic in combat with a man, and beyond in the twilight some other figures. The door to the deck had fallen. Leaving my own door to take care of itself, I hastened to what was the immediate seat of danger, and shot one fellow through the body. He fell like a bullock, and then the Prince gave way and struck against me. His left arm had dropped to his side, but in his right hand he now held a sword, and, recovering, he thrust viciously and with agility before him. Before that gallant assault two more went down, and as Lane and Barraclough seemed to be holding their own, it seemed almost as if we should get the better of the attack. But just then I heard rather than saw the second door yielding, and with shouts the enemy clambered over the table and were upon us from that quarter also. Beneath this combined attack we slowly gave way and retreated down the corridor, fighting savagely. The mutineers must have come to the end of their ammunition, for they did not use revolvers, but knives and axes. One ruffian, whom in the uncertain light I could not identify, bore a huge axe, which he swung over his head, and aimed at me with terrific force. As I dodged it missed me and crashed into the woodwork of the cabins, from which no effort could withdraw it. I had stepped aside, and, although taking a knife wound in my thigh, slipped a blade through the fellow. But still they bore us back, and I knew in my inmost mind, where instinct rather than thought moved now, that it was time to think of the boudoir and my promise. We were being driven in that direction, and if I could only reach the handle I had resolved what to do.

But now it seemed again that I must be doomed to break my word, for how was it possible to resist that onset? There were, so far as I could guess, a dozen of the mutineers, but it was that fact possibly that helped us a little, as, owing to their numbers, they impeded one another. Prince Frederic was a marvellous swordsman, and he swept a passage clear before him; but at last his blade snapped in the middle, and he was left defenceless. I saw some one rush at him, and, the light gleaming on his face, I recognised Pierce. With my left hand I hurled my revolver into it with all the power of my muscles. It struck him full in the mouth, that ugly, lipless mouth which I abhorred. He uttered a cry of pain and paused for a moment. But in that moment, abstracted from my own difficulties, I had given a chance to one of my opponents, whose uplifted knife menaced me. I had no time to draw back, and if I ducked I felt I should go under and be trodden upon by the feet of the infuriated enemy. Once down, I should never rise again. It seemed all over for me as well as for the Prince, and in far less time than it takes to relate this the thought had flashed into my head—flashed together with that other thought that the Princess would wait, and wait for me in vain. Ah, but would she wait? If I knew her fine-tempered spirit she would not hesitate. She had the means of her salvation; she carried it in her bosom, and feared not. No, I could not be afraid for her.

As I have said, these reflections were almost instantaneous, and they had scarcely passed in a blaze of wonder through my brain when the yacht lurched heavily, the deck slipped away from us, and the whole body of fighting, struggling men was precipitated with a crash against the opposite wall. Some had fallen to the floor, and others crawled against the woodwork, shouting oaths and crying for assistance. I had fallen with the rest, and lay against a big fellow whose back was towards me. I struggled from him and was climbing the slope of the deck, when she righted herself and rolled sharply over on the other side. This caused an incontinent rush of bodies across the corridor again, and for a moment all thought of renewing the conflict was abandoned. I recognised Prince Frederic as the man by me, and I whispered loudly in his ears, so that my voice carried through the clamour and the noises of the wind that roared outside round the state-rooms.

"Better make our last stand here. I mean the ladies...." He nodded.

"It will be better," he answered harshly. "Yes … better."

He turned about, with his hand on the door-knob behind him, and now I saw that we had reached the entrance to the boudoir.

"Alix! … Yvonne!" he called loudly through the keyhole. "You know what to do, beloved. Farewell!"

I had refilled my revolver in the pause and, with a fast-beating heart, turned now to that horrid cockpit once more. The first person my eyes lighted on was Holgate, broad, clean-faced, and grinning like a demon.

"He shall die, at any rate," said Prince Frederic, and lifted his revolver which he had reloaded. It missed fire; the second shot grazed Holgate's arm and felled a man behind him.

"No luck, Prince," said the fellow in his mocking voice, and in his turn raised a weapon of his own. But he did not fire. Instead, he turned swiftly round and made a dash towards the other end of the corridor.

"To me, men; this way! By heaven and thunder!"

His voice, fat as it was, pierced the din, and acted as a rallying cry. Several of the mutineers, now confronting us again, turned and followed him, and there was the noise of a struggle issuing from the darkness of the top end of the corridor.

"What the deuce is this?" screamed Barraclough in my ear.

"I don't know. Let's fall on. There's an alarm. They're–! Now, by the Lord, it's Legrand, thank God! Legrand, Legrand!"

"Bully for Legrand!" cried Barraclough, wiping some blood from his face, and he set upon the mutineers from the rear. Those left to face us had scarcely recovered from their astonishment at the alarm when the Prince shot two, and a third went down to me. The others retreated towards their companions, and the three of us followed them up. I say the three, for I could not see Lane anywhere, and I feared that he had fallen.

The conflict thus renewed upon more equal terms found, nevertheless, most of the participants worn and exhausted. At least I can answer for myself, and I am sure that my companions were in a like case. The twilight that reigned disguised the scene of the struggle, so that each man saw but little beyond his own part in the affair; yet I was conscious that the mutineers were being pushed back towards the deck door. They had been caught between the two parties as it appeared, and Legrand's unexpected onset from the music-saloon entrance had thrown them into confusion. It was obvious that Legrand and his men were armed, for I heard a shot or two issuing from the mêlée, and above the noise of the oaths and thuds and thumpings was the clash of steel. Presently my man, who had engaged me over-long, dropped, and before me was a little vacancy of space, at the end of which, hard by the door, I discerned the bulky form of Holgate. He was leaning against the wall, as if faint, and a revolver dropped from his fingers.

"By God, doctor, if I'd had any idea of this I'd have crucified 'em all," he said to me savagely; "but I'll get square yet. First you, and now Legrand! I'll be square yet."

As he spoke, panting, he heaved himself higher against the wall and levelled his revolver. In a flash my arm descended and knocked the weapon to the floor. I could see his grin even in the dim light.

"Well, it was empty, anyway, man," he said, "but I'll give you best for the present. I've my ship to look after."

I could have struck him down then and there, and I raised my point to do so; but he seized my arm. "Don't be a fool, my lad. She'll be gone in this wind, if I don't take charge. Have your fling if you want it," he screamed in my face above the clamour. For the noise of the wind was now increased and grown into a roar. It sounded as a menace in the ears, and I involuntarily paused and looked out of the doorway. The heavens were black, the waters ran white to the gunwale, and the Sea Queen staggered like a drunkard on her course. Holgate's practised eye had taken in the situation, and he had seen that he was necessary to the navigation of the yacht. And yet I marvelled at his coolness, at the strength of will and heroic resolution which could turn him of a sudden from one filled with the lust of blood and greed and battle into the patient sailor with his ship to save. These thoughts ran through my head as I paused. It was only a brief pause, so brief that it was no time ere I rejoined my companions in their attack on the failing mutineers; but in it I had a glimpse deep into the chief mutineer's nature.

I let him go. His argument came home to me. I do not know that I could be said to have considered; rather his individuality dominated me in this appeal to something beyond our immediate quarrel, to a more ultimate good. Perhaps his very assurance, which was almost contemptuous in its expression, helped to dissuade me. I dropped my arm and he went. Outside, as I turned back, I saw him stay a moment and look upon us, that pack of desperate wolves and watch-dogs. Almost I could think he lifted his lips in a grin over his fancy. Then he disappeared into the gathering gloom, and, as I say, I returned to the attack. A few minutes later the mutineers broke and scattered. Their resistance was at an end, and they fled out into the night, leaving our party breathless, wounded, but secure and triumphant.

I say secure, but alas, the price of that security had been heavy! Legrand with two of his men had escaped unhurt, but two were dead and two seriously wounded. Lane had his face cut open; Barraclough had come off with a nasty stab in the ribs, and Prince Frederic was not to be found. We hunted in that scene of carnage, and I discovered him at last under the body of a dead mutineer. When we had got him forth he was still unconscious, but breathed heavily, and I found traces of internal injuries. I administered what was necessary, including a restorative, and he came to presently.

"Well, sir," said he weakly, "what's the report?"

"By heaven, sir, we've licked them," I cried. "Good news, sir. The dogs have run."

"They shall be hanged in due course," said he in a loud voice. "My luck holds, doctor." He waved his hand weakly down the corridor. "Tell the ladies. Acquaint—her Royal Highness."

It was the first time he had given his sister her proper style, and in a way this might be taken by those who look for omens as auspicious. Did his luck indeed hold, as he said?

I took the office on myself. The Sea Queen was galloping like a racer, and plunged as she ran. Two steps took me to the boudoir door, before which lay the body of one of our enemies. As the ship rolled it slipped away and began to creep down the corridor. The yacht reared before she dipped again, and a cascade of spray streamed over the side and entered by the broken door. I rapped loudly and called loudly; and in a trice the door opened, and the Princess Alix stood before me, glimmering like a ghost in the darkness.

"They are gone," I shouted. "We have won."

"Thank God! He has heard us," she exclaimed. "I could hear nothing for the sound of the sea and the wind. But oh, the suspense was terrible! My hair should be white!"

"Mademoiselle?" I asked.

"Mademoiselle sleeps," said she, and I thought there was something significant in her voice.

It was well that Mademoiselle slept. I left her and went back to the Prince, for more than he needed my care, and as I reached the group the roll of the yacht sent me flying. Legrand caught me.

"We can't spare you yet, doctor," he shouted.

"Thank God for you," I answered fervently. "You came in the nick of time."

"I thought we might have cut our way out last night, but I found we couldn't," he explained. "You see, we only had one knife, and it has been a tough job to get through the heavy wood of the partition."

"Thank God," I repeated, and clutched at him again as the floor rose up. "I'm not accustomed to this," I said with a laugh. "It's worse than the mutineers."

He answered nothing, for his gaze was directed towards the door.

"We must take charge," he shouted. "Good Lord, there's no time to lose."

"Holgate's there," I screamed back. "He went to look after the ship."

We stood holding on to each other, and Barraclough, Lane and the Prince were holding on by the brass rods on the cabin doors. She rolled and kicked and stood up at an angle of 45°.

"What is it?" I screamed.

Legrand pointed to the blackness without. "We'll get it in a little. I hope to God it will be no worse than this. She can't stand on her head with safety."

Suddenly the roar swelled louder, and dismal shrieks and whistlings sounded in the ears. The Sea Queen sank, and a whole tide of sea rushed over the bulwarks and flooded the state-rooms. The water ran knee-deep and set the bodies of the dead awash. One struck against me in the whirlpool. It was a ghastly scene, set in that gathered darkness.

"Nothing can be done. We've got to hold on," said Legrand. "He's a good seaman; I'll say that for him. But how many's he got with him? He's undermanned. It's all on the engine-room now."

We were silent again, mainly because it was almost impossible to hear anything through that tempest of wind and volcanic sea. She came right for a moment, and our grip of each other relaxed.

"I'm going, Legrand," I called to him.

"Don't be a fool," said he.

"Oh, I'm all right. I've forgotten something," I shouted. "I'll see to myself"; and I cut myself adrift from him.