The Old Tobacco Shop

Captain Lingo stepped out of his rubber suit, spread out his fine white handkerchief on a boulder to dry, and twiddled his moist fingers daintily in the air, after which he blew on his finger-nails and polished them on his shirt-sleeves.

"We are now ready," said he, "for the ceremony. Ketch, thy cutlass."

Ketch drew his cutlass from his belt and handed it to the captain. It glittered wickedly in the sunlight. The captain ran his thumb along its edge, and nodded his head with satisfaction.

"It will do," said he. "One stroke for each will be quite sufficient. We will now proceed with the ceremony."

He restored the cutlass to the Practitioner, who raised it high and gave a swinging slash downward with it, as if to test his eye and arm. The Practitioner then rolled his right shirt-sleeve up to his shoulder; he was the largest man in the party, and his arm was the arm of a blacksmith.

"Stop!" cried Mr. Punch. "One moment! Captain Lingo! You are a Henglishman, aren't you?"

"I am an Englishman," said the Captain, swelling out his chest. "Long live King James!"

"Hi am a Henglishman also," said Mr. Punch, swelling out his chest. "You carn't murder a fellow-countryman in cold blood, now can you? Hi s'y, you couldn't do that, you know. We're both subjects of her gracious Majesty, we are. Long live Queen Victoria!"

"Who?" said Captain Lingo.

"Queen Victoria!" cried Mr. Punch. "She'd never, never forgive you hif – "

"Never heard of her," said Captain Lingo calmly. "I'm a loyal subject of his Catholic Majesty King James the Second, – may all the saints defend him!"

"King James the Second!" cried Mr. Punch. "Why, 'e's been dead these two 'undred year, nearly! 'E's as dead as Christopher Columbus!"

Captain Lingo started violently, and his face became dark with anger.

"Dead? King James dead? Do you mark that, lads? He calls his blessed Majesty dead! Aha! thou renegade Englishman, thou hast imagined the death of the king! A felony, by St. George! And the punishment is death! What, thou reprobate, dost thou not know 'tis a felony, punishable by death, to imagine the death of the King?"

"But 'e is dead. One carn't live two 'undred years, you know."

"You hear!" said Captain Lingo, his voice quivering with rage. "He imagines the death of the King! Any judge in the kingdom would sentence him to die for that! 'Tis the law! But enough talk. Captain Lingo is not the man to stand by and see the law defied! For that, my pretty Englishman, thou shalt die the death twice over. There shall be violence in thy case. Thou shalt wish thou hadst never been born. Thou shalt be kept for the last. Ay, ay; there shall be fine sport at his taking off, eh, lads? Enough! Proceed with the ceremony. To imagine the death of the King! Ketch, art thou ready?"

"Ay, ay, Captain," said the Practitioner.

The captain cast his angry eye over the terrified group shivering in their damp garments. "One of you must be first. Who shall be first? Let me see." Each person quailed as the pirate's eye rested on him. "One moment. We will decide it by chance."

He plucked seven sprigs of grass, and broke them into varying lengths. He then held them in his hand so that only the even ends showed. "Now choose," said he. "The longest blade shall be first."

Each drew a blade of grass, except Mr. Punch, who had already been reserved for the last. "Thou shalt be quartered alive," said the captain to him. "To dare imagine the death of the King!"

Freddie trembled as he drew his sprig of grass; but he did not draw the longest; the longest blade fell to Mr. Hanlon, and the next to Freddie. Mr. Toby was third, the Churchwarden fourth, the Sly Old Codger fifth, Aunt Amanda sixth, and the Old Codger with the Wooden Leg seventh.

"We will use that fallen log," said the captain, and led the way towards it. He was now very stern; all his politeness had been dissipated by the offense of Mr. Punch.

"Toby," said Aunt Amanda, as they were moving towards the place of the ceremony, "I hope you will excuse me for all the cross words I have ever spoken to you."

"Oh, nonsense, Aunt Amanda," said Toby, sniffling a little, "I've been a trial enough, I know it. What will become of the shop?"

"Poor Freddie!" said Aunt Amanda. "It just breaks my heart to see him so brave. He's so young to have to – to – And his poor mother! Oh dear, oh dear!"

"Now then," said Captain Lingo, "you may sit down on the grass until your turns come."

Toby helped Aunt Amanda to sit down. Freddie sat beside her and pressed his white face against her shoulder. The others grouped themselves on the grass about them; all except Mr. Hanlon, who, knowing that his time had come, stepped forward and stood before Ketch the Practitioner, who was feeling the edge of his cutlass.

One of the pirates produced from his pocket some strong twine, and bound Mr. Hanlon's arms behind him. On a sign from Captain Lingo, this man led Mr. Hanlon to the fallen log, and made him kneel beside it and rest his head face down upon it, so that there was a good view from above of the back of his neck.

The dreadful moment had arrived.

Ketch the Practitioner took his place by Mr. Hanlon's side, planted his feet firmly, wide apart, tucked in his right shirt-sleeve at the shoulder, and raised his gleaming cutlass high above his head.

A scream from Aunt Amanda made him hesitate for an instant, but only for an instant; as Aunt Amanda and Freddie closed their eyes and buried their faces in their hands, the cutlass flashed twice around the head of Ketch and came down with a swift and horrible slash straight upon the back of Mr. Hanlon's neck.

A single stroke was enough; Mr. Hanlon's head rolled off upon the ground.

"Well done, Ketch," said Captain Lingo, quietly. "I doubt if there's another hand on the Spanish Main could have done it."

Ketch blushed with honest pride at these gracious words. He swung his bloody cutlass in embarrassment. All the pirates turned towards the pale group on the grass, and Captain Lingo said, "Next!"

Freddie stood up. His knees began to tremble under him, and his heart was beating so fast that he could hardly breathe. Aunt Amanda flung her arms about him as he stood beside her, and cried "No, no, no!" in a voice of anguish.

All eyes were on the Little Boy, as he stood awaiting his dreadful fate, with Aunt Amanda's arms about him. His time had come. His friends were waiting to see if he would be brave, and though his face was white his courage did not fail him. He looked at them in farewell, and each one gave him a tearful gaze in return.

He turned his eyes towards the warm and friendly landscape, for a last look at the world he was about to leave. It would be hard to go, and he would need all his strength to bear the – A loud cry from Freddie startled all the others. "Look!" he cried, and pointed a shaking finger.

They looked, and what they saw was Mr. Hanlon.

By the log on which his head had been cut off, Mr. Hanlon was standing, his hands behind his back, and his head in its proper place on his shoulders. He was smiling and bowing, and as the astonished spectators gazed at him with their mouths open, he sprang lightly into the air and clicked his heels together as he came down.

"Ha! ha! ha!" laughed Toby in spite of himself. "Freddie, we've seen that little act before, haven't we?"

Freddie nodded. He remembered very well the first time he had seen Mr. Hanlon's head cut off, at the Gaunt Street Theatre at home; he wondered that he had not thought of it before.

Captain Lingo was plainly very angry. His face turned a purple hue, and the scar across his mouth showed very white. He fingered his knife dangerously, and at the same time glared at Ketch, who was scratching his head in bewilderment. The captain did not raise his voice, but he spoke with deadly earnestness.

"A fine workman thou, friend Ketch," said he. "Truly a pretty hand with a cutlass, thou son of a sea-cook. I've a mind to let a little of thy blood with this knife, thou scurvy knave. But I will give thee one more chance. If thou fail again, by St. George thou shalt die the death. Once more, now! And remember!"

It was Ketch's turn now to tremble. He knew very well that Captain Lingo would do as he had said, if he should fail a second time. His own life hung on a thread now.

"Ay, ay, Captain," he said huskily, and led Mr. Hanlon back to the fallen log and made him kneel as before.

As Mr. Hanlon's head lay across the log, he turned it round towards his friends, and gave them a long slow wink.

Ketch's cutlass flashed as before. Round his head it swung twice, and down it came with a slashing stroke straight and true on the back of Mr. Hanlon's neck. Off rolled Mr. Hanlon's head upon the ground.

Everyone watched breathlessly; and Ketch did not breathe at all.

For a second Mr. Hanlon's body continued to kneel headless beside the log. Then the head on the ground popped like a flash to the neck it belonged to, and fastened itself accurately there in place. Ketch turned ghastly pale.

Mr. Hanlon sprang up, opened his mouth wide in a soundless laugh, bowed to Captain Lingo, jumped lightly into the air, and clicked his heels together three times as he came down.

Captain Lingo's face was a terrible sight to see. He gazed steadily at Ketch. The unfortunate Practitioner was shaking like a leaf. Captain Lingo slowly drew his knife, and held it behind him in his right hand. With the other hand he pointed to the ground before him.

"Hither, dog," he said, in a quiet, even voice.

Ketch hesitated, gave a wild look about him, and advanced slowly towards his captain. When he reached him, he fell on his knees and held up his shaking hands.

"No! no! no! captain," he cried. "Don't do it! Oh, please don't do it! I done my duty always, and I ain't never failed before! Remember my poor old mother, captain! Give me one chance, captain, just one! Don't kill me! Captain! Captain!"

The expression on Lingo's face did not change; but the glitter in his eye became even more murderous than before. He said not a word, but with his left hand snatched off the kerchief which bound Ketch's head, and seized him by the hair; and with his other hand he brought the knife swiftly around in front and lowered it to plunge it into Ketch's heart.

At that moment Aunt Amanda, forgetting her lameness, struggled to her feet, hobbled to the kneeling man, and throwing her body between him and the knife, shrieked at Captain Lingo.

"Stop! stop! you bloodthirsty villain! Ain't you got no shame? What are you going to murder him for? Ain't he done the best he could? You're a big bully, that's all you are! You ain't a man at all, you're a monster! Put up that knife, and take your hand out of his hair! Ain't you ashamed of yourself?"

Captain Lingo was taken completely by surprise. His eyes opened wide and his jaw dropped; he was so astonished that he took his hand from Ketch's hair and put up his knife.

"That's the idea," said Aunt Amanda. "You're more of a man than I thought. Mr. Ketch, you had better get up."

"Madam," said Captain Lingo, making her a bow, "'tis a bold action and generous. I trust I am able to respond to it in kind. My duty to you, ma'am; your obedient humble servant. Ketch, thou white-livered dog, get up, and thank this lady for thy life."

Ketch, still pale and trembling, stood up, and seizing one of Aunt Amanda's hands in both of his, made a low bow over it and kissed it fervently. By the look in his eyes it was plain to see that he was from that moment her devoted slave.

"Madam and gentlemen," said Captain Lingo, "I am sorry to inform you that the ceremony is over, until I can obtain another Practitioner to take the place of Ketch. I blush with shame when I think how I boasted of his skill. I hope you will not think I meant to deceive you. I assure you I am more disappointed than you can possibly be. I am provoked and disgusted and irritated; I am annoyed; I can't deny it. There is nothing to do but to retire to our home in High Dudgeon."

"What's that?" said Aunt Amanda. "Is it a place, or is it just the way you feel?"

"Ask me no more," said Captain Lingo, turning away. "I must confer with my lads about our next step."

"Are you going to take us with you?" asked Aunt Amanda.

"We shall certainly give ourselves that pleasure, madam," said the captain, rather stiffly. "Lads, come with me."

On a sign from the captain, one of the pirates cut the twine which bound Mr. Hanlon's hands, and the restored one joined his friends on the grass. The seven pirates moved away to a spot some score of yards apart, where they all sat down on the ground and engaged at once in animated talk.

"I conclude," said the Churchwarden, "though I don't know as I'm right about it, and other people may have a different opinion, that we're a good deal better off – "

"What I say is," said Toby, clapping Freddie on the shoulder, "what I say is, three cheers for Mr. Hanlon!"

"Yes!" said Freddie. "That's just what I said that day after the theatre!"

"I wonder," said the Old Codger with the Wooden Leg, "I wonder if – er – ahem! – if Captain Lingo has – er – such a thing as a pinch of snuff about him."

CHAPTER XVII

HIGH DUDGEON AND LOW DUDGEON

The pirate captain and his men rose from the ground, and Captain Lingo, in his politest manner, requested his captives to follow him. The entire party moved down the slope into the valley, and after a walk of some quarter of a mile entered a grove of trees. In this grove were tethered ten handsome mules, of which seven were saddled and three were laden with packs.

One of the pack-mules was quickly unladen, a fire was built, and in ten minutes the hungry guests and their hosts were making a very good breakfast of bacon, fried by Mr. Leatherbread, as the captain called him, one of the pirates to whom the business of the frying-pan was left by general consent. When the bacon had been washed down with clear cold water from a spring near by, and the mule had been packed again, Freddie and Aunt Amanda were assisted into the saddles of the two smallest mules, and the captain mounted into the saddle of the largest.

"Now look here, Captain Lingo," said Aunt Amanda, "I want to know where we are going and all about it. The idea of me sitting here a-straddle of a mule! And this bonnet simply ruined, and my dress just about fit to go to the rag-bone man, and my hair – Look here, Captain Lingo, I ain't going a step on this mule until you tell me what – "

"Pardon me, my dear lady," said the captain, "but I must ask you to put up with my little whims a short while longer. I beg the pleasure of your society upon a little journey; nothing more. I assure you the country is very interesting. May I not promise myself the bliss of your approval?" He turned to the six pirates with a scowl. "Mount the rest of them, scoundrels!"

Four of the captives were mounted by the pirates on the remaining mules, and the procession moved out of the grove into the open valley.

Freddie had never ridden a mule before, and he was delighted. When they entered, as they soon did, the great forest which they had seen from the plateau, Freddie was more than ever delighted. After the blazing sun of the open country, the shade of the forest was delicious. The trees were huge, and while the trunks were far apart, their branches made a leafy roof overhead which was almost unbroken. Flowering plants grew everywhere; vines climbed the trees; little streams murmured here and there; and the only sound which disturbed the repose of the forest was the occasional screech of a parrot and the occasional chatter of monkeys. The first time Freddie heard the sudden scream of a parrot in the stillness he was thoroughly alarmed, but when he learned what it was, and saw the flash of the bird's plumage between the trees, he forgot all about his danger, and for the rest of the day he gave himself up to the pleasure of watching for parrots and monkeys among the branches.

The Sly Old Codger turned in his saddle and said to Toby, who was riding behind, with Mr. Punch walking between:

"A work of nature, my dear friend, a real work of nature. So beautiful! Parrots and monkeys flitting about overhead, the primeval forest stretching its bosky arms above us in all directions —so bosky! What one might call a real work of nature; so very, very bosky."

"Right you are," said Toby. "It puts our Druid Hill Park in the shade, that's a fact; makes it take a back seat and play second fiddle, as sure as you're born."

"Hi beg your pardon," said Mr. Punch. "'Ow can a park sit down and play a fiddle?"

All day long they moved onward, single file, further and further into the depths of the forest. At noon they halted for a luncheon of fried bacon, prepared by Mr. Leatherbread. The afternoon wore on, and the forest became gloomier and gloomier about them as they marched; the silence grew almost terrifying; and all the pleasure which Freddie had felt in the morning vanished. Night fell, and the procession entered a little clearing, and there the pirates made camp for the night.

After a supper of fried bacon, prepared by Mr. Leatherbread, the whole party retired to rest, each on a mattress of green branches and leaves, covered with blankets. The night was mild, and when the last blanket had been made ready the moon rose and tinged the tops of the trees with silver; and while Freddie was watching the moon as it climbed higher, he fell asleep. Aunt Amanda did not go to sleep so soon.

Ketch the Practitioner had devoted himself very specially to her in preparing her resting-place. While he was spreading the branches and blankets for her, she said to him:

"Ketch, where are we going?"

"Not so loud, ma'am," said he. "We are going to High Dudgeon."

"High Dudgeon! What's that?"

"S-sh! When we're disappointed, or disgusted, or vexed, we always go to our home in High Dudgeon."

"Is that where you live?"

"Part of the time, ma'am. Mostly we are away at sea or on the Island; but when anything goes wrong, and we're angry about it, we always go home and stay there, in High Dudgeon. Yes, ma'am."

"And what are they going to do with us when they get us there?"

"S-sh! You'll be in great danger there. If you can find any way to escape from there, I advise you – S-sh! Not another word. Captain Lingo is looking this way. I must go."

Aunt Amanda did not sleep very well that night.

In the morning, after a breakfast of fried bacon, prepared by Mr. Leatherbread, the company resumed its march.

At noon, a halt was made beside a spring for rest and food, and here Mr. Leatherbread prepared a luncheon of fried bacon.

In the evening, as the travellers were plodding onward, Ketch walked for a time at the head of Aunt Amanda's mule. Aunt Amanda leaned forward and said to him:

"Ketch, are we going to have more bacon tonight?"

"No, ma'am," said he, in a low voice. "We'll have supper in High Dudgeon. My old mother's the cook there. You heard me mention her yesterday morning. I've an idea there'll be pigeon pies for supper. And mark what I'm saying to you, ma'am." His voice sank to a whisper. "If you get a pigeon pie for supper, look careful to see what's inside of it before you eat it."

"Mercy on us!" said Aunt Amanda. "Are they going to poison us?"

But Ketch slipped away in the gathering darkness, and said no more.

They had gone but a few hundred yards further, when, at the moment when the darkness of night was making ready to blot out everything, they suddenly emerged into a round grassy clearing enclosed by the forest, where the light was better, and over which a star or two could be seen glimmering in a pale blue sky. In the midst of this clearing rose a tower.

It was a round tower, built of stone; its top came scarcely to the top of the surrounding trees, and it was in fact not more than two stories high; it appeared, with its wide girth, low and squat. Its sides were pierced here and there with deep and narrow slits, for windows, and on one side was a heavy oaken door, with great iron hinges and an iron lock. Through two or three of the upper slits in the wall glimmered a light from within. It was otherwise dark and forbidding.

Aunt Amanda found Ketch at her mule's head again. She leaned forward and said to him:

"Is that High Dudgeon?"

"No, ma'am. That's Low Dudgeon."

"Low Dudgeon? What do you mean by Low Dudgeon?"

Ketch looked at the tower and shuddered. "I don't like to talk about it, ma'am. I don't like the place. It's the place where we used to live long ago, before we built High Dudgeon. There's none of us wants to live there now. We haven't lived there since – " Ketch paused, and shuddered again, and evidently decided not to go on.

"There's a light up there," said Aunt Amanda. "Does anybody live there?"

"No, ma'am," said Ketch. "Nobody lives there."

"But there's a light," said Aunt Amanda. "Surely there must be somebody there."

"There is, ma'am; there is; thirteen of 'em."

"Thirteen what?"

But Ketch only shuddered again, and would say no more.

Aunt Amanda noticed that instead of going straight onward past the door of Low Dudgeon, the pirates led the file in a wide course away from it, along the edge of the clearing, as if to avoid coming near to it; and when the procession had thus skirted the clearing and entered the forest again on the other side, leaving the low tower behind, a sigh, as if of relief, went up from Ketch and all the other pirates; except, however, from Captain Lingo himself, who appeared to be wholly indifferent.

"How much further?" said Aunt Amanda to Ketch.

"About a mile, ma'am," said he.

The last mile of their journey was a long mile, and it was traversed in perfect darkness. The moon had not yet risen. Not a word was spoken, and there was no sound except the pad of the mules' feet and the breaking of twigs and branches as the travellers pushed their way through. The prisoners were in a state of greater nervousness and anxiety than before, and as they neared the place where their lives were to be disposed of in one way or another, their sense of uncertainty became almost unbearable. When it seemed that they must be close to the fateful place, the procession suddenly halted, and at the same instant the screech of a parrot startled the silence and made each of the prisoners jump.

"It's only the captain," said Ketch. "It's a signal."

Immediately, as if in response, there came from a distance in advance the note of a cuckoo, three times repeated. The procession moved forward.

A moment or two later, the whole company came forth from the forest under the stars, and stood on the edge of a wide round clearing, grown high with grass and weeds. In the midst of this clearing rose a tower.

"High Dudgeon," said Ketch over his shoulder.

This also was a round tower, built of stone; but it was very tall, much taller than the highest trees, and from the top there must have been a view of all the surrounding country, even as far as the hill within which was the treasure cave; from the number of deep and narrow slits which served as windows it must have been six or seven stories high. The top of the tower was flat, with battlements around the rim. As a fortress, it seemed to be impregnable; as a dwelling-house, it was very dismal indeed. It was totally dark. The captives trembled at the thought of being imprisoned in such a place.

The wayfarers proceeded in their single file directly to the great iron-bound oaken door of the tower, and those who were mounted got down. Ketch assisted Aunt Amanda and Freddie to alight, and having done so he took charge of the mules and led them away.

Captain Lingo took from his breeches pocket a small key and unlocked the door.

"Be so kind as to enter," he said, and made way for the captives and his men.

When all were within, including Ketch, who had now returned, the captain locked the door on the inside and restored the key to his pocket.

CHAPTER XVIII

THE SOCIETY FOR PIRATICAL RESEARCH

They were in a dark and narrow passage-way. As they stood huddled there together, a candle glimmered at the end of the passage, held in a tremulous hand, and lighting up the face of a very old woman. She advanced towards the party by the door, and holding her candle high above her head inspected the strangers with little blinking watery eyes. She was short and bent; she hobbled as she came forward; her face was seamed with deep wrinkles, and the hand which held the candle was knotted and gnarled; wisps of dirty grey hair hung over her eyes.