CHAPTER X

HOSTAGES

The watch aboard the _Royal James_ challenged us as we made fast by

the larboard side-ladder, and when we climbed over the bulwarks to

the deck Master Martin flashed a lanthorn in our faces with a gust of

oaths in his absurdly gentle tones.

“By the ---- ---- ---- ----, but I hoped ’twas that ---- ---- Flint

come a-seekin’ mischief,” he complained.

“Where is Captain Murray?” I answered.

“In his cabin.”

And in the same mild manner he continued to his men:

“To your stations. Remember cap’n’s orders. Now these two are

aboard, ye’ll fire at any boat that approaches and challenge

afterward.”

The negro lackeys stood aside as we came to the cabin entrance under

the poop; the door was open. Down the dark tunnel of the

companionway with its stateroom doors on either hand Peter and I

could see my great-uncle sitting at the table in the main cabin, a

glass of wine at his elbow, a chart spread out before him. He raised

his head as we entered.

“You were cheated of your sport, I conclude,” he greeted us. “The

watch informed me a half-hour since they had heard no shots ashore.”

I recounted briefly our conversation with Flint and the determination

Peter and I had reached in consequence. He nodded agreement with it.

“You did quite right, Robert. Peter did not exaggerate the dangers

inherent in the situation.”

“You appear not to feel any too safe yourself,” I answered

sarcastically, “with sentinels posted on your decks ordered to shoot

into any approaching boat.”

“I do not,” he assented with perfect equanimity. “’Tis true I should

be surprized did our confrères of the _Walrus_ undertake to assault

us, but I have had too much experience with desperate men, especially

when they are under the influence of liquor, to discount the

possibility of their adopting any atrocious idea which might enter

their heads.”

“Do you mean that you live in perpetual fear of treachery from

Flint’s crew?”

He considered the question, sipping at his wine.

“Perpetual is too strong a word for the occasion,” he decided at

length. “Let us say rather that the experience to which I have

previously referred has taught me that under certain

circumstances--such as the license practised after the tedium of a

long voyage--a band of men who recognize no authority save the strong

arm may be induced to excesses they would not otherwise attempt.”

“Then we don’t shoodt no goats?” asked Peter sorrowfully.

“On the contrary, friend Peter. We most certainly shall. ’Tis not

only a question of securing you the opportunity of sport which I

promised you, but of varying the diet of my crew, with an eye to

maintaining all hands in good health at a time when we can not afford

incapacity. Tomorrow morning I shall be occupied in organizing the

work of careening the ship, so that her bottom may be cleaned; but in

the afternoon we will take a party of beaters to aid us and arrange a

battue in the Continental fashion. By that time, I anticipate,

Captain Flint will have returned to his senses--recovered from his

debauch, in other words. If he has not----”

He shrugged, and I gathered that the contingency would not be a happy

one for Flint.

“You will excuse me,” he went on, “if I return to my studies. I have

much upon my mind.”

We bade him good night and went to our staterooms, weary enough from

the unwonted exercise of rowing. As I shut my door I noted that he

was measuring distances in the Caribbean with calipers and jotting

figures upon the margin of the chart.

In the morning, as he had said, all hands were occupied with the task

of careening the ship. In the first place she was to be hauled over

to starboard to expose her larboard bottom, and all her guns and

movable stores and heavy equipment were shifted to starboard to give

her a list on that side. Then her yards were cockbilled to keep them

clear of the water, and heavy cables were run from her masts to the

shore, looped around trees and carried back aboard, and the crew by

main force, a few inches or a foot at a time, canted her over. The

tide, as it dropped, aided them by bedding the keel in the estuary’s

soft mud floor, and gradually the _James_ came to assume a most

lopsided appearance.

’Twas when the work had gone so far and was proceeding satisfactorily

that my great-uncle bade Martin tell off a dozen hands who were good

shots and call away the longboat.

“I marvel that you dare to leave the _James_ in this defenseless

condition,” I said to him as the longboat pulled off up the anchorage

past the silent bulk of the _Walrus_. “If there was danger last

night----”

“--there need not necessarily be danger this afternoon,” he

interrupted. “’Tis all quiet ashore, and I doubt if there is a man

sufficiently sober aboard the _Walrus_ to carry a carton of powder

from the magazine.”

“But by evening they’ll ha’ slept it off,” I insisted.

“True, and with it their lust for bloodshed--for the time being, at

any rate. Our problem then will be to turn Flint’s mind to some

undertaking which will divert his attention and occupy him until we

need no longer be concerned for his whimsies.”

We landed south of the first river, below where Flint’s party had

held their carouse, and proceeded inland through a wooded valley,

with hills rising to right and left of us and the Spyglass towering

in the distance. The day was very clear, and the mountain’s summit

was a gray cone against the blue of the sky. A soft wind whispered

in the trees; the beat of the surf came to us faintly; the severity

of the sun was tempered by the shade; and the pine-mast was springy

to our feet. Even our sullen, hangdog escort of seamen became almost

cheery under the influence of their changed surroundings, and with

the sight of their first goat they began to whoop and shout like

schoolboys. Murray, despite his age, was as spry as the youngest of

us, and he never wasted a shot.

At his suggestion we turned north along the lower flanks of the

Spyglass, circled the intervening hills--foot-hills they might be

called--crossed the headwaters of the first river, traversed another

patch of forest and forded the second river at a point where it ran

shallow and clear between two of the marshy stretches which were its

distinguishing characteristic. This route brought us over to the

eastern side of the island some distance north of the hillock Peter

and I had visited the preceding evening, and when I remarked this

fact my great-uncle expressed interest and requested that we should

visit the place. We had by now shot sufficient goats to load down

all our bearers, whilst Peter carried half a dozen brace of various

birds, to the eatable qualities of which Murray bore testimony.

We had maintained a brisk pace on our wanderings, and we reached the

site of the spring well before sunset. My great-uncle surveyed the

situation with a calculating eye, estimated the stand of timber on

the hill’s sides, and exclaimed that there was no neighboring

eminence whence an enemy could command it.

“’Tis all you have asserted it to be,” he said. “Moreover, it gives

me an idea of a way in which we may occupy the energies of Captain

Flint and his lambs for the ensuing weeks of our stay.”

I asked him what he intended, but he would not answer me, striding

off with his head sunk on his chest after his manner when plunged in

thought. The seamen, who had awaited us at the foot of the hill,

fell in behind us, and we retraced our steps across the swampy river

and the intervening belt of forest to the first and larger stream.

This, too, we recrossed, but instead of continuing on as we had come

Murray turned down the course of the stream in a south-easterly

direction. A thread of smoke trickled up beside the mouth of the

rivulet in the woods along the estuary, and I indicated it to him.

“There is Flint,” I said.

“Yes,” he replied absently, and kept on.

The shadows were lengthening as we stepped out of the forest into a

glade on the river’s bank. Several additional fires had been

kindled, and around each were huddled groups of pirates much the

worse for the last night’s drinking-bout. John Silver was the only

man who appeared to have any animation left in him; he hopped on his

crutch from one fire to another, supervising the roasting of the

haunches of goat, which were spitted in front of the flames with

pieces of hardtack placed beneath to catch the dripping juices.

’Twas he first saw us, and evidently spoke to Flint, who sat with

Bones and several other cronies at the smallest of the fires. He

swung toward us as Flint rose unsteadily and tacked in his wake.

“Come a-visitin’, captain?” Silver inquired cheerfully. “Mighty kind

o’ ye, sir, seein’ as how most o’ our lads is a bit the worse for

liquor and blood-lettin’. My duty to ye, Master Ormerod. I hopes I

sees you and your friend well?”

“Blood-letting?” repeated Murray, ignoring the balance of his

remarks. “The old story, eh? Well, well! You’ll never learn. How

many for the sailmaker’s palm and needle?”

“Three, captain. And main lucky we are as----”

Flint lurched up beside him.

“Stow that, John,” growled his captain. “I’ll do the talkin’.

What’s your trouble, Murray?”

My great-uncle took a pinch of snuff with his inimitable knack of

expressing acute disgust without moving a muscle of his face.

“I have been a-hunting,” he replied. “Shooting for the pot. We

stopped on the way to our boat to pass the time o’ day with you,

Flint.”

Flint snorted

“Time o’ day! ----! ’Tain’t like you to take the trouble.”

“I am a person of most uncertain proclivities,” replied my

great-uncle. “I hear from Silver that last night’s episode was

accompanied by the usual fatalities.”

“Three,” assented Flint. “Two o’ ’em could be spared--lousy dogs.

The other was Toby Welsh, as stout a fellow as we had.”

“Not bad for one night’s work,” commented Murray.

Flint was obviously in no very belligerent mood; he could scarce

stand. But he flamed up at this.

“Aye, and what d’ye expect? How many months did ye tell me I must

bide here wi’ a crew that knows naught but how to brew the Devil’s

broth? And how many men d’ye think will be alive by the end of the

time? Gut me, but ’twill be like the song we sing o’ the Dead Man’s

Chest!”

“I fear it will,” agreed my great-uncle. “Unless you take measures

to prevent it.”

“Measures?”

Flint cursed with the fluency of the man who enjoys his work.

“There’s a deal to be done in keeping twelvescore men from fighting

on this chunk o’ earth and rock!”

“There’s your ship to be cleaned,” said my great-uncle tentatively.

“I’d ha’ mutiny on my hands did I call for it! They’re all for a run

ashore, and there’ll be no working them aboard-ship until they ha’

had their fill o’ woods and mountains.”

“Ah!” said my great-uncle. “Doubtless that is so. Well, if they

must remain ashore a time, is it not in their own interest to erect

themselves some shelter from the elements?”

Flint stared at him curiously.

“Ye’ve an idea in the back o’ your head, Murray. Out with it!”

“We have often said that some day we should build ourselves a fort on

the island,” answered my great-uncle.

“We ha’.”

“I came upon the ideal spot this afternoon--a sand hillock overgrown

with fine pines and oaks eastward of the swamps. It hath the airs

from the ocean, a good prospect of the anchorage and the nearer

waters, and there is a spring at the very top.”

“And I’m to do the work!” snarled Flint.

“Your men are to do the work,” corrected Murray. “I should gladly

assist them in it but for the fact that my own crew will be occupied

aboardship during the duration of our stay. We of the _Royal James_,

I may point out, are laboring in the common interest no less than

your people will be if they undertake the construction of the fort.”

“Blast me for a ---- ---- fool if I care two ---- ---- ---- for the

common interest!” cried Flint. “But ’tis true there is need of the

fort, and if the men will bide ashore they should ha’ a roof to their

heads and a better place to camp than down here in the river vapors.

I’ll see what’s to be done, Murray. Not tonight--there’s no man of

us, except Long John, curse him! can put two thoughts together. But

in the morning ’twill be different. We’ll fetch off a boatload o’

axes and shovels, and I’ll turn ’em to. I think it can be done.

---- me, it must be done! I can’t lose three men a day for the next

six months!”

“You’ll not regret it,” replied my great-uncle. “I shall be glad to

lend you aught I possess in the way of tools or advice.”

“---- your advice!” snapped Flint. “The tools I’ll take. Is that my

hostage wi’ you?”

“’Tis my grandnephew, yes.”

“Ye may as well leave him then. We can use him on the fort. He’s

not too proud to hand and haul, is he?”

Murray stepped so close to him that notwithstanding the dimness of

the twilight their faces were clearly discernible to each other.

“When the time comes for it my grandnephew will be placed in your

hands, Flint,” he said quietly. “And I shall hold you strictly

accountable for his treatment.”

His manner chilled.

“D’ye hear, man? Strictly accountable, I said. The feckless knave

that lays a finger to him, who has my own blood in his veins, shall

be flayed alive and bound to the bowsprit of the _James_.”

“Oh, aye,” mumbled Flint, and faded into the shadows.

Long John Silver, who had tarried within earshot throughout their

dialogue, stumped forward again.

“It grows sudden dark in these ’ere latitoods, captain!” he said.

“Will ye ha’ one o’ our boats to take ye off?”

“I thank you,” replied my great-uncle. “We shall have no difficulty

in finding our boat.”

He did not speak again until we were pulling across the star-flecked

waters of the anchorage.

“I think,” he announced casually, “we need have no cause to worry

over the defenseless condition of the _James_.”

“A dozen shot under water--” I started to say, when Peter spoke up.

“He gets them all ashore, Bob. _Ja_, dot’s it! All der time they

work, andt so they don’t think about der _James_.”

“A singularly acute mind our Peter has,” commented my great-uncle.

His strategy was completely successful. The building of the hilltop

fort appealed to some boyish strain submerged beneath the surface

villainy of Flint’s scoundrels. They went to their task with

positive enthusiasm, clearing the hillock of timber, sawing and

squaring the logs and erecting a substantial house of the more

massive logs and after that an open stockade or paling of sapling

stakes six feet high. The house-walls were loop-holed for musketry,

and Flint commenced to talk of a pair of bastions to hold

six-pounders; but this was after the work had gone forward two months

and his men were becoming weary of ax and saw.

Toward the end of our sojourn the _Walrus’_ crew were committed to a

serious effort to exterminate the goats of the island, and since this

occupation was to be preferred to the extermination of one another,

which was their favorite sport when their energies were not otherwise

diverted, nobody was inclined to stop them, my great-uncle least of

all.

His personal object was already accomplished. The _Royal James_ was

back upon an even keel, her bottom scraped clean, her hull

fresh-painted inside and out, her rigging overhauled and canvas in

order, spars tested and a weak top-mast replaced, guns varnished,

stores checked and stowed, sufficient great-cartridge for three

actions prepared by the gunner, ballast aboard and distributed with a

careful eye for sailing trim.

“As sweet and proper as though she was just from the hands of the

dockyard fitters at Portsmouth,” was Murray’s comment on an evening

about the beginning of August.

The three of us sat at table in the main cabin, Peter still occupied

with the fragments of a wild pigeon. Through the open stern windows

drifted a tag-end of song from the _Walrus_, lying a cable’s length

higher up the anchorage:

“The Frenchman took Moon’s knife in the throat--

Yo-ho-ho, and a bottle o’ rum!

But all they found was a rusty groat--

Yo-ho-ho, and a bottle o’ rum!”

“That is Flint’s voice,” continued my great-uncle. “I am glad he is

aboardship. ’Twill save us the inconvenience of a journey ashore.”

And to the query of my raised eyebrows he replied:

“The tide ebbs on the break of dawn. I purpose sailing then.”

“And you must deliver the body of your hostage beforehand,” I

answered as disagreeably as I could.

“Even so,” he acknowledged. “’Tis regrettable, Robert, yet the time

will come, I venture to predict, when you will look back with pride

upon the inconvenience you suffered.”

“I’ll accept the inconvenience if I may escape the rascals alive,” I

retorted.

“Of that you need have no doubts,” he said earnestly. “I shall

accompany you, and you may hear my parting instructions to Flint.

Friend Peter, will you indulge me for the space of half an hour

whilst I visit the _Walrus_ with my nephew?”

“_Neen_,” answered Peter, and pushed away from the table. “I go too.”

“No, no----”

“I go too.”

“But naught was said of two hostages----”

“If Bob goes, I go,” insisted the Dutchman. “_Ja_.”

Murray shook his head.

“For you I might not be responsible, Peter.”

“I be responsible for myself,” said Peter. “I go to der _Walrus_ or

you go oudt der window.”

My great-uncle stared at him for a moment, then burst into laughter.

“By gad, you would! And after become captain in my place, no doubt.

You are unmatchable, Peter. What do you say, nephew?”

“I’d not have Peter risk his throat with mine,” I answered

uncomfortably, the words of Flint’s song still ringing in my memory.

“I go wit’ you, Bob,” repeated the Dutchman.

“You see!” cried Murray. “’Tis useless to object. Go with you he

will. Well, you’ll have company at least--and I shall lack a

companion whose presence is not the less valuable for his silence. A

good friend is Peter, Robert. I would he were mine!”

Peter rose.

“We go,” he said. “_Ja_.”

On deck Murray had the longboat called away, and we embarked in

silence. ’Twas a hot night, with very little air stirring, and the

ribald uproar on the _Walrus_ was amazingly distinct. The _James_

was like a tomb by contrast. Not a sound came from her, and the only

lights she showed were in the waist and the main cabin. The _Walrus_

was a blaze of lanthorns from poop to fo’csle, but Murray hailed the

deck twice before he had an answer.

“Boat ahoy!” responded a husky voice then. “Why’n ---- don’t ye come

aboard?”

“’Tis Captain Murray to see Captain Flint,” replied my great-uncle

calmly.

“Aye, aye, sir,” answered the husky voice on a quaver of fear.

“We’ll call him directly. Will ye come aboard, sir?”

My great-uncle turned to Peter with one foot on the side ladder.

“Are you certain you must go with Robert?” he asked. “I can assure

you no harm shall come to him.”

“_Ja_, I go.”

My great-uncle’s reply was a shrug of indifference, and Peter and I

climbed after him to the deck. The noise of revelry stopped dead as

he appeared, but the visible evidence of it was plain to see on every

hand. A cask of rum with the head knocked out stood by the foot of

the mainmast. There was a pool of blood on the deck-planking by the

fo’csle companionway, and a pallid-cheeked fellow was binding up his

arm in a dirty headcloth and spitting oaths at another man who

composedly wiped his knife clean on a frowsy coil of rope. Fore and

aft men had been gaming, drinking, quarreling and singing--and all

abruptly halted whatever they were doing to stare at us.

Murray returned their stares with an undisguised repugnance which I

discovered myself to share. The _Walrus_ was a revelation after the

ordered discipline of the _Royal James_. In a word, she was

pig-dirty. Her deck was littered with all kinds of rubbish; her

rigging was slack and spliced in a fashion which seemed lubberly to

me, who was a lubber; her canvas was torn, poorly patched and

wretchedly furled; boats, barrels, lumber, spare spars and cables lay

about in entire confusion. The planks we trod on were slippery with

grease. The paint was peeling from the bulwarks. There were spots

of rust on the muzzle of a chase gun, which itself was hauled out of

its proper position.

Flint came swaggering down to us from the poop in a condition which

was in harmony with his surroundings. Like most of his men, he had

discarded coat, shirt, stockings and shoes to accommodate himself to

the heat of a tropical Summer. His loose canvas trousers, identical

with those the seamen wore, were streaked with dirt and tar. His

bare calves and forearms were covered with dried blood where they had

been scratched by brambles in his shore expeditions; out of the

matted hair on his chest was thrust the head of a tiger, most

marvelously tattooed in black and yellow. His hair was a lank frame

for his saturnine face, stubbly with a week’s growth of beard.

Sure, the contrast was as sharp betwixt him and my great-uncle,

immaculate in figured black satin, hair sprucely dressed, as betwixt

the two ships. He sensed it himself.

“What d’ye seek, Murray?” he growled. “Come to look us over?”

“I am come to fulfil my contract with you,” replied my great-uncle.

“I am sailing with the morning ebb, and I bring you, not one hostage,

but two.”

Flint stepped closer and scrutinized Peter and me.

“Two, eh? What do I want wi’ two? What good’s this fat man to me?

He means nothing to you.”

“On the contrary,” denied my relative. “Master Corlaer is an old and

valued enemy of mine, of whom I have hopes of making in time a

friend.”

“Well, he’s no good to me; gut me if he is!”

“You will take both or none,” said my great-uncle in the voice like a

dripping icicle which he knew so well how to assume.

“Nasty, are ye?” rasped Flint. “Blast ye for a ----”

A light in Murray’s tawny eyes kindled like a flame under the

reflection of the battle-lanthorns which were hung from the lower

spars.

“Two it is,” Flint ended hastily. “But ye’ll never see either one o’

’em if ye don’t make good on your bargain. I ha’ supported much from

ye, Murray, but ----”

“You’ll support more for sufficient gold,” rebuked my great-uncle.

“Tut, man, I read you like a book. When we first encountered you

were proud to be mate of a trading-brig. I have put you in the way

to rank and fortune, if you know how to exploit your opportunities.”

“Rank and opportunities!” jeered Flint with an ugly laugh. “Aye, ye

took me when I was an honest young man and made a pirate o’ me. And

the only opportunity I’ll win through you will be to kick the air in

Execution Dock.”

My great-uncle helped himself to snuff, tapping his box as Flint

talked.

“Hark ye,” he broke in when the _Walrus’_ captain had got so far, “I

am pressed for time. I have but two things to say to you. Guard

well and cherish carefully these two persons I commit to you, and in

two months I’ll hand over to you three hundred and fifty thousand

pounds.”

“You said seven hundred thousand,” snapped Flint.

“I said seven hundred thousand to be divided betwixt the two ships.”

“Oh-ho! And ye’ll take captain’s share o’ the _James’_ half, eh? As

well as your hundred thousand slice?”

“My terms are perfectly clear,” returned Murray. “Now for my second

point. When I return it may be we shall have need of swift keels. I

recommend you to get your ship in decent condition. As she stands,

you could be carried by a Portuguese slaver.”

A shrewd look dawned in Flint’s face.

“And where are ye a-goin’ to pluck this million and a half o’

treasure from?” he demanded. “You ha’ said much of it, but you told

me little. What course doth the treasure-ship sail? Where do you

lurk for her? There’s wide seas betwixt the Main and the Atlantic,

and ye can’t stop every hole, Murray.”

“You may safely entrust that portion of the task to me,” replied my

great-uncle drily.

He offered me his hand, and somewhat to my own surprize I found

myself inclined to accept it.

“Robert,” he said, “I regret exceedingly the necessity I am under of

inflicting this unpleasantness upon you. I shall endeavor to provide

you adequate reparation. You also, friend Peter. Remember, we are

working for a greater cause than our personal enrichment.”

He vaulted lightly to the top of the bulwarks and dropped out of

sight on the farther side. His shoes clicked on the ladder-cleats,

and we heard the rattle of oars as his boat put off.

“Gut me, but there’s times I think he believes all he says,” swore

Flint.

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