THE COVE AND CAVE
The starboard boat was lowered into the water. First the mate, then
Captain Broom and two men got in. The latter were Cales and Pete who
pulled noiselessly at the oars. The boat glided quietly through the
silent darkness towards the shore. The Captain was seated in the stern,
his great bulk crouched forward, but there was nothing inert in his
posture. His big hands clasped either side of the craft.
In a few minutes the boat grounded softly on the sand of the beach and
all hands got ashore. Scarcely a word was spoken, though the cove was so
hidden that there seemed to be no possible chance that the landing of
the free-booters would be observed. However, Captain Bill Broom took no
risk of being discovered. He had many enemies upon the coast and inland
as well. Besides, the State of California had set a price upon his head.
Two thousand dollars was the reward for his capture, and so profitable
an investment was apt to be realized on sooner or later by some
enterprising citizen. So Captain Broom took due care whenever he went
abroad not to attract undue attention.
This cove was a favorite lurking place of his when close pressed, where
he would take refuge after some daring adventure upon the high seas,
until such a time as the hubbub along the coast had died down. Sometimes
he lay in hiding there, with the Sea Eagle screened behind the
encircling cliffs, waiting like a black spider to rush out and capture
some unsuspecting craft.
"Pick her up, boys," said the Captain, "you know where she belongs,"
pointing to the boat.
"Aye, aye, sir," they replied, and putting it on their shoulders they
carried the boat along a narrow path that divided the thick undergrowth;
until, after going several hundred yards, they reached a thick screen of
brush through which they shoved, and came to a cave.
Although so well hidden, the entrance to the cavern was quite high, so
that the men gained admission without stooping, and going a short
distance into the dark interior, they placed the boat gently down
against the wall. There was a constant and heavy drip of water, so that
there was no chance for the boat to warp, as it would have surely done
if placed outside in the dry California air.
"I don't like this yere cave," remarked Pete, when left alone with
Cales.
"What's the matter with it? It's dark and damp, but that is the nature
of caves."
"It makes me feel creepy, that's all," replied Pete, "and it takes
considerable to do that."
"Whatever happened?" inquired Cales, grinning, "something terrible, I
reckon, to make your thick hide chilly."
"It were before your time," replied Pete somewhat reluctantly, "we
raided a ranch back thar agin the mountings. Senor Sebastian owned it
and it was said that he could ride all day and never git off his place,
and that he had more sheep and cattle than thar is folks in Frisco."
"The Captain shanghied him, I reckon," cut in Cales.
"You hold your windlass," commanded the old man in a querulous tone,
"I'm telling this yarn."
"All right, Pop," said Cales in a conciliating manner, "have it yer own
way." He was really anxious to hear the story the old man had referred
to.
"Young fry is always flapping," the older speaker mumbled,--then he
took up the course of his narrative. "Waal, as I was telling ye, this
Senor had lots of money and the Cap'n being short of funds thought that
he could use some of it. So one night we ran into the cove, it was
blacker even than this. I don't see how the old man ever got the craft
past the sharks' teeth at the entrance but he did."
"He could have brought her in with his eyes shut," declared Cales. "I
never have seen his equal for navigating."
"Waal, we made camp here that night, and the next day, the Cap'n with
some of the gang, left for the ranch and I stayed to look after things.
Nothing happened that day, and I was dozing by the fire about midnight
when I heard them coming back. They had the Senor, a fine-looking old
man with a gray mustache and as cold and proud-looking as they make
them.
"The Cap'n was furious because he had not been able to lay his hand on
the coin, and he swore that he would make the old Senor tell where his
money was or there would be trouble. He took him into this cave and I
don't know what happened there, and I don't want to know. All I'm sure
of is that I never saw him come out.
"The Cap'n sent me to the ship to get some chains on the second day and
he took 'em into the cave. We sailed a couple of days later, but not a
sign did I see of the Senor. That's why this cave makes me creepy,
Cales."
They were standing near the entrance, when there came a distinct low
moan from the interior. It was not a ghostly sound, either. There was no
mistaking it.
"Did you hear that, Cales?" asked old Pete in a quavering voice.
"Yes," replied Cales, "I heard it all right. It can't be the Senor?"
"No," replied Pete. "He has been dead these years."
"Let's find out," said his comrade.
"There's nothing in this world could make me go in thar," declared Pete
solemnly, "besides, it's agin the Captain's orders."
"Well, I'm going," said Cales either more brave or less experienced than
the other. "It sounds to me like a woman's voice."
"And I'm goin' to git," declared old Pete, tottering towards the path.
"You're a brave old pirate," said Cales contemptuously, and with that he
went slowly back into the cave. He had to go cautiously, for beyond a
certain point he was not acquainted with the interior. He could feel the
moist ground under foot and he kept his hand stretched out, not knowing
what he might run against in the dense damp darkness.
Then, suddenly, his hand struck a stone wall. Groping his way, he turned
a sharp corner and followed along a low narrow passageway that obliged
him to stoop. Then came the sound of the moaning just ahead. Jack Cales
was a brave man but it was all that he could do, to keep from turning
and running in panic for the mouth of the cave. But though his
determination had received a severe shock, it did not turn to flight.
He saw a faint light ahead, spreading a glow at the end of the passage
as he came nearer. Then he saw something that held him stone still with
a clutch of weird fear. He had reached the end of the narrow passage,
and dimly made out a domed room in the rock, white with translucent
encrustation.
He struck a match. About him, before, to the right and to the left he
could see forms all of ghostly white, some crouching, others standing.
Hardly had the light flared up than it sizzled out. Some drops of water
falling from the roof had extinguished the blaze. Then was repeated that
awful sound of distress.
Cales groped around almost in a frenzy of terror. Where was the exit
from that awful room? Round and round he went, and all the time there
were strange whisperings in his ears, and unseen hands seemed to clutch
his clothes. Once he slipped and was trembling so that he was hardly
able to get to his feet. Just as he did so, something swept past him
like a breath of wind. Rendered desperate he made another dash, and this
time if he had not found a passageway, he felt that he could have
knocked a hole through the wall. Then he stood at the mouth of the
cave.