'For th' love of Hiven!' she ejaculated. 'If that ain’t a sight now!
Byes, it’s Mr. Pegg’s own father come home from somewheres in th'
Indies. Their cook was tellin' me of the time they have wid him. He’s a
bit light-headed, y' see, an’ has all his meals in his own room--th'
quarest dishes iver--an’ a starlin' for a pet, mind ye!'
At that moment the old gentleman perceived that he was watched, and
saluting Mary Ellen gallantly, he called out,--
'Good morning, madam!'
Mary Ellen, covered with confusion, drew back behind the curtain. I was
about to make a suitable reply when I saw Mrs. Mortimer Pegg, herself,
emerge from her house with a very red face, and resolutely grasp her
father-in-law’s arm. She spoke to him in a rapid undertone, and, after a
moment’s hesitation, he followed her meekly into the house.
How I sympathized with him! I knew only too well the humiliation
experienced by the helpless male when overbearing woman drags him
ignominiously from his harmless recreation. A bond of understanding
seemed to be established between us at once.
The voice of Mary Ellen broke in on my reverie. She was teasing Angel to
sing.
'Aw, give us a chune, Master Angel, before th' missus gets back! There’s
a duck! I 'll give ye a pocketful of raisins as sure’s fate!'
Angel was the possessor of a flute-like treble, and he could strum some
sort of accompaniment on the piano to any song. It was Mary Ellen’s
delight on a Saturday morning to pour forth her pent-up feelings in one
of the popular songs, with Angel to keep her on the tune and thump a
chord or two.
It was a risky business. But The Seraph mounted guard at the window
while I pressed my nose against the glass case which held the stuffed
birds, and wondered if by chance any of them had come from South America
where father was.
Tum-te-tum-te-tum, strummed Angel.
'Casey would waltz with the strawberry blonde,
And the--band--played--on.'
His sweet reedy tones thrilled the April air.
And Mary Ellen’s voice, robust as the whistle of a locomotive, bursting
with health and spirits, shook the very cobwebs that she had not swept
down.
'Casey would waltz wid th' strawberry blonde,
And--the--band--play--don!'
Generally we had a faithful subordinate in The Seraph. He had a rather
sturdy sense of honor. On this spring morning, however, I think that the
singing of Mary Ellen must have dulled his sensibilities, for, instead
of keeping a bright lookout up the street for the dreaded form of Mrs.
Handsomebody, he lolled across the window-sill, dangling a piece of
string, with the April sunshine warming his rounded back.
And as he dangled the string, Mrs. Handsomebody drew nearer and nearer.
She entered the gate--she entered the house--she was in the parlor!
Angel and Mary Ellen had just given their last triumphant shout, when
Mrs. Handsomebody said in a voice of cold fury,--
'Mary Ellen, kindly cease that ribald screaming. David [David is Angel’s
proper name], get up instantly from that piano stool and face me! John,
Alexander, face me!'
We did so tremblingly.
'Now,' said Mrs. Handsomebody, 'you three boys go up to your
bedroom--not to the schoolroom, mind--and don’t let me hear another
sound from you to-day! You shall get no dinner. At four I will come and
discuss your disgraceful conduct with you. Now march!'
She held the door open for us while we filed sheepishly under her arm.
Then the door closed behind us with a decisive bang, and poor Mary Ellen
was left in the torture-chamber with Mrs. Handsomebody and the stuffed
birds.
II
Angel and I scurried up the stairway. We could hear The Seraph panting
as he labored after us.
Once in the haven of our little room, we rolled in a confused heap on
the bed, scuffling indiscriminately. Such a punishment was not new to
us. It was a favorite one with Mrs. Handsomebody, and we had a suspicion
that she relished the fact that so much food was saved when we went
dinnerless. At any rate, we were not allowed to make up the deficiency
at tea-time.
We always passed the hours of our confinement on the bed, for the room
was very small and the one window stared blankly at the window of an
unused room in the Peggs' house, which blankly returned the stare.
But these were not dull times for us. As Elizabethan actors, striding
about their bare stage, conjured up brave pictures of gilded halls or
leafy forest glades, so we little fellows made a castle stronghold of
our bed; or better still, a gallant frigate that sailed beyond the
barren walls into unknown seas of adventure, and anchored at last off
some rocky island where treasure lay hidden among the hills.
What brave fights with pirates there were, when Angel as captain, I as
mate, with The Seraph for a cabin-boy, fought the bloody pirate gangs on
those surf-washed shores, and gained the fight, though far outnumbered!
They were not dull times in that small back room, but gay-colored,
lawless times, when our fancy was let free, and we fought on empty
stomachs, and felt only the wind in our faces, and heard the creak of
straining cordage. What if we were on half-rations!
On this particular morning, however, there was something to be disposed
of before we got to business: to wit, the rank insubordination of The
Seraph. It was not to be dealt with too lightly. Angel sat up with a
disheveled head.
'Get up!' he commanded The Seraph, who obeyed wonderingly.
'Now, my man,' continued Angel, with the scowl that had made him dreaded
the South Seas over, 'have you anything to say for yourself?'
The Seraph hung his head.
'I was on’y danglin' a bit o' stwing,' he murmured.
'String!' repeated Angel, the scowl deepening; 'dangling a bit of
string! You may be dangling yourself at the end of a rope before the sun
sets, my hearty! Here we are without any dinner, all along of you. Now
see here, you’ll go right over into that corner by the window with your
face to the wall and stand there all the time John and I play! An’--an’
you won’t know what we’re doing nor where we’re going nor anything--so
there!'
The Seraph went, weeping bitterly. He hid his face in the dusty lace
window-curtain. He looked very small. I could not help remembering how
father had said we were to take care of him and not make him cry.
Somehow that morning things went ill with the adventure. The savor had
gone out of our play. Two were but a paltry company after all. Where was
the cabin-boy with his trusty dirk, eager to bleed for the cause? Though
we kept our backs rigorously turned to the window, and spoke only in
whispers, neither of us was quite able to forget the presence of that
dejected little figure.
After a bit The Seraph’s whimpering ceased, and what was our surprise to
hear the chuckling laugh with which he was wont to signify his pleasure!
We turned to look at him. His face was pressed to the window, and again
he giggled rapturously.
'What’s up, kid?' we demanded.
'Ole Joseph-an’-his-bwethern,' he sputtered, 'winkin' an’ wavin' hands
wiv me!'
We were at his side like a shot, and there, in the hitherto blank window
of the Peggs' house, stood the old gentleman of the flowered
dressing-gown, laughing and nodding at The Seraph. When he saw us he
made a sign to us to open our window, and at the same instant raised his
own.
It took the three of us to accomplish it, for the window moved
unreadily, being seldom raised, as Mrs. Handsomebody regarded fresh air
much as she regarded a small boy, as something to be kept in its place.
At last the window rose, protesting and creaking, and the next moment we
were face to face with our new acquaintance.
'Hello!' he said, in a loud, jovial voice.
'Hello!' said we; and stared.
He had a strong, weather-beaten face, and wide-open, light eyes, blue
and wild as the sea.
'Hello, boy!' he repeated, looking at Angel. 'What’s your name?'
Now Angel was shy with strangers, so I usually answered questions.
'His name,' I replied then, 'is David Curzon; but mother called him
Angel, so we jus' keep on doing it.'
'Oh,' said the old gentleman. Then he fixed The Seraph with his eye.
'What’s the bantling’s name?'
The Seraph, mightily confused at being called a bantling, giggled
inanely, so I replied again.
'His name is Alexander Curzon, but mother called him The Seraph, so we
jus' keep on doing it too.'
'Um-hm,' assented the old gentleman; 'and you--what’s your name?'
'John,' I replied.
'Oh,' he said, with an odd little smile, 'and what do they keep on
calling _you_?'
'Just John,' I answered firmly, 'nothing else.'
'Who’s your father?' came the next question.
'He’s David Curzon, senior,' I said proudly, 'and he’s in South America
building a railroad, an’ Mrs. Handsomebody used to be his governess when
he was a little boy, so he left us with her; but some day, pretty soon,
I think, he’s coming back to make a really home for us with rabbits an’
puppies an’ pigeons an’ things.'
Our new friend nodded sympathetically. Then, quite suddenly, he asked,--
'Where’s your mother?'
'She’s in heaven,' I answered simply. 'She went there two years ago.'
'Yes,' broke in The Seraph eagerly, 'but she’s comin' back some day to
make a _weally_ home for us.'
'Shut up!' said Angel gruffly, poking him with his elbow.
'The Seraph’s very little,' I explained apologetically; 'he doesn’t
understand.'
The old gentleman put his hand in the pocket of his dressing-gown.
'Bantling,' he said with his droll smile, 'do you like peppermint
bull’s-eyes?'
'Yes,' said The Seraph, 'I like them--one for each of us.'
Whereupon this extraordinary man began throwing us peppermints as fast
as we could catch them. It was surprising how we began to feel at home
with him, as though we had known him for years.
He had traveled all over the world, it seemed, and he brought many
curious things to the window to show us. One of these was a starling,
whose wicker cage he placed on the sill where the sunlight fell.
He had got the bird, he said, from one of the crew of a trading vessel
off the coast of Java. The sailor had brought it all the way from Devon
for company; and he added, 'The brute had put out both its eyes so that
it would learn to talk more readily; so now, you see, the poor little
fellow is quite blind.'
'Blind--blind--blind!' echoed the starling
briskly,--'blind--blind--blind!'
He took it from its cage on his finger. It hopped up his arm till it
reached his cheek, and there it began to peck at his whiskers, crying
all the while in its shrill, lonely tones, 'Blind--blind--blind!'
We three were entranced; and an idea that was swiftly forming in my mind
struggled for expression.
If this wonderful old man had, as he said, sailed the seas from Land’s
End to Ceylon, was it not possible that he had seen, even fought with,
real pirates? Might he not have followed hot on the trail of hidden
treasure? My cheeks burned as I tried to put the question.
'Did you,' I began,--'did you--'
'Well?' he encouraged. 'Did I what, John?'
'Oh, did you,' I burst out, 'ever see a pirate ship, an’ pirates--real
ones?'
His face lit up.
'Surely,' he replied casually, 'many an one.'
'Praps,' ventured Angel, with an excited laugh, 'praps you’re one
yourself!'
The old gentleman searched our eager faces with his wide-open, sea-blue
eyes; then he looked cautiously into the room behind him, and, being
apparently satisfied that no one could overhear, he put his hand to the
side of his mouth, and said in a loud, hoarse whisper,--
'That I am. Pirate as ever was!'
I think you could have knocked me down with a feather. I know my knees
shook and the room reeled. The Seraph was the first to recover, piping
cheerfully,--
'I yike piwates!'
'Yes,' repeated the old gentleman, reflectively, 'pirate as ever was.
The things I’ve seen and done would fill the biggest book you ever saw,
and it’d make your hair stand on end to read it--what with fights, and
murders, and hangings, and storms, and shipwreck, and the hunt for gold!
Many a sweet schooner or frigate I’ve sunk, or taken for myself, and
there isn’t a port on the South Seas where women don’t hush their
children’s crying with the fear of Captain Pegg!'
Then he added hastily, as though he feared he had gone too far,--
'But I’m a changed man, mark you--a reformed man. If things suit me
pretty well here, I don’t think I shall break out again. It is just that
you chaps seem so sympathetic, makes me tell you all this; but you must
swear never to breathe a word of it, for no one knows but you. My son
and daughter-in-law think I’m an archæologist. It’d be an awful shock to
them to find that I’m a pirate.'
We swore the blackest secrecy, and were about to ply him with a hundred
questions, when we saw a maid carrying a large tray enter the room
behind him.
Captain Pegg, as I must now call him, gave us a gesture of warning and
began to lower his window. A pleasant aroma of roast beef came across
the alley. The next instant the flowered dressing-gown had disappeared
and the window opposite stared blankly as before.
Angel drew a deep breath. 'Did you notice,' he said, 'how different he
got once he had told us he was a pirate--wilder and rougher, and used
more sailor words?'
'However did you guess it first?' I asked admiringly.
'I think I know a pirate when I see one,' he returned loftily. 'But oh,
I say, wouldn’t Mrs. Handsomebody be waxy if she knew?'
'An’ wouldn’t Mary Ellen be scared stiff if _she_ knew?'
'An’ won’t we have fun? Hurray!'
We rolled in ecstasy on the much-enduring bed.
We talked excitedly of the possibilities of such a wonderful and
dangerous friendship. And as it turned out, none of our imaginings
equaled what really happened.
The afternoon passed quickly. As the hands of our alarm clock neared the
hour of four we obliterated the traces of our sojourn on the bed as well
as we could; and when Mrs. Handsomebody entered, she found us sitting in
a row in the three cane-bottomed chairs on which we hung our clothes at
night.
The scolding she gave us was even longer and more humiliating to our
manhood than usual. She shook her hard white finger near our faces, and
said that for very little she would write to our father and complain of
our actions.
'Now,' she said, in conclusion, 'give your faces and hands a thorough
washing, and comb your hair, which is disgraceful; then come quietly
down to tea.'
The door closed behind her.
'What beats me,' said Angel, lathering his hands, 'is why that one white
hair on her chin wiggles so when she jaws us. I can’t keep my eyes off
it.'
'It wiggles,' piped The Seraph, as he dragged a brush over his curls,
''cos it’s nervous, an’ I wiggle when she scolds, too, 'cos _I’m_
nervous.'
'Don’t you worry, old man,' Angel responded gayly, 'we’ll take care of
you.'
We were in fine spirits despite our scolding. Indeed, we almost pitied
Mrs. Handsomebody for her ignorance of the wonders among which she had
her being.
Here she was, fussing over some stuffed birds in a glass case, when a
live starling, who could talk, had perched near her very window-sill!
She spent hours in conversation with her Unitarian minister, while a
real pirate lived next door!
It was pitiful, and yet it was very funny. We found it hard to go
quietly down to tea with such thoughts in our minds, and after five
hours in our bedroom.
III
The next day was Sunday.
As we sat at dinner with Mrs. Handsomebody after Morning Service, we
were scarcely conscious of the large white dumplings, that bulged before
us, with a delicious sticky, sweet sauce trickling down their dropsical
sides. We plied our spoons with languid interest around their outer
edges, as calves nibble around a straw stack. Our vagrant minds scoured
the Spanish Main with Captain Pegg.
Suddenly The Seraph spoke in that cocksure way of his.
'There’s a piwate at Pegg’s.'
Mrs. Handsomebody looked at him sharply.
'What’s that?' she demanded.
At the same instant Angel and I kicked him under cover of the
dining-table.
'What did you say?' repeated Mrs. Handsomebody, sternly.
'Funny ole gennelman at the Cwibbage Peggs',' replied The Seraph with
his mouth full.
Mrs. Handsomebody greatly respected Mr. and Mrs. Mortimer Pegg, and this
play of words on the name incensed her.
'Am I to understand, Alexander,' she gobbled, 'that you are making
_game_ of the Mortimer Peggs?'
'Yes,' giggled the wretched Seraph, 'it’s a cwibbage game. You play it
wiv Peggs.'
'Leave the table instantly!' ordered Mrs. Handsomebody. 'You are
becoming unbearable.'
The Seraph cast one anguished look at his dumpling and burst into tears.
We could hear his wails growing ever fainter as he plodded up the
stairs.
'Mary Ellen, remove that dumpling!' commanded Mrs. Handsomebody.
Angel and I began to eat very fast. There was a short silence; then Mrs.
Handsomebody said didactically,--
'The elder Mr. Pegg is a much traveled gentleman, and one of the most
noted archæologists of the day. A trifle eccentric in his manner,
perhaps, but a deep thinker. David, can you tell me what an archæologist
is?'
'Something you pretend you are,' said Angel, 'and you ain’t.'
'Nonsense!' snapped Mrs. Handsomebody. 'Look it up in your Johnson’s
when you go upstairs, and let me know the result. I will excuse you
now.'
We found The Seraph lounging in a chair in the schoolroom.
'Too bad about the dumpling, old boy,' I said consolingly.
'Oh, not too bad,' he replied. 'Mary Ellen fetched it up the back stairs
to me. I’m vewy full.'
That afternoon we saw Captain Pegg go for a walk with his son and
daughter-in-law. He looked quite altered in a long gray coat and tall
hat. Mr. and Mrs. Mortimer Pegg seemed proud to walk with him.
The following day was warm and sunny. When lessons were over we rushed
to our bedroom window, and to our joy we found that the window opposite
was wide open, the wicker cage on the sill, with the starling inside
swelling up and preening himself in the sunshine, while just beyond sat
Captain Pegg smoking a long pipe.
He seemed delighted to see us.
'Avast, my hearties!' he cried. 'It’s glorious sailing weather, but I’ve
just been lying at anchor here, on the chance of sighting you. It does
my heart good, y' see, to talk with some of my own kind, and leave off
pretending to be an archæologist--to stretch my mental legs, as it were.
Well--have you taken your bearings this morning?'
'Captain Pegg,' I broke out with my heart tripping against my blouse,
'you said something the other day about buried treasure. Did you really
find some? And would you mind telling us how you set about it?'
'Yes,' he replied meditatively, 'many a sack of treasure trove I’ve
unearthed. But the most curious find of all, I got without searching and
without blood being spilt. I was lying quiet those days, about forty
years ago, off the north of the Orkney Islands. Well, one morning I took
a fancy to explore some of the outlying rocks and little islands dotted
here and there. So I started off in a yawl with four seamen to row me;
and not seeing much but barren rocks and stunted shrubs about, I bent
over the stern and stared into the sea. It was as clear as crystal.
'As we were passing through a narrow channel between two rocky islands,
I bade the men rest on their oars, for something strange below had
arrested my attention. I now could see plainly, in the green depths, a
Spanish galleon, standing upright, held as in a vice by the grip of the
two great rocks. She must have gone down with all hands, when the
greater part of the Spanish Armada was wrecked on the shores of Britain.
"'Shiver my timbers, lads!" I cried, "here 'll be treasure in earnest!
Back to the ship for our diving-suits! Booty for every one, and plum
duff for dinner!"
'Well, to make a long story short, I and four of the trustiest of the
crew put on our diving-suits, and soon we were walking the slippery
decks once trodden by Spanish grandees and soldiers, and the scene of
many a bloody fight, I’ll be bound. Their skeletons lay about the deck,
wrapped in sea-tangle, and from every crevice of the galleon tall red
and green and yellow and purple weeds had sprung, that waved and
shivered with the motion of the sea. Her decks were strewn with shells
and sand, and in and out of her rotted ribs frightened fish darted at
our approach. It was a gruesome sight.
'Three weeks we worked, carrying the treasure to our own ship, and I
began to feel as much at home under water as above it. At last we set
sail without mishap, and every man on board had his share, and some of
them gave up pirating and settled down as innkeepers and tradesmen.'
As the sound of his deep voice ceased, we three were silent also, gazing
longingly into his eyes, that were so like the sea.
Then--'Captain Pegg,' said Angel, in a still small voice, 'I
don’t--s’pose--you’d know of any hidden treasure hereabouts? We’d most
awfully like to find some. It’d be a jolly thing to write and tell
father!'
A droll smile flickered over the bronzed features of Captain Pegg. He
brought down his fist on the window-sill.
'Well, if you aren’t chaps after my own heart!' he cried. 'Treasure
about here? I was just coming to that--and a most curious happening it
is! There was a cabin-boy,--name of Jenks,--a lad that I trusted and
loved like my own son, who stole the greater part of my share of the
treasure, and though I scoured the globe for him,'--the captain’s eyes
rolled fiercely,--'I found neither trace of him nor the treasure, till
two years ago. It was in Madagascar that I received a message from a
dying man, confessing that, shaken by remorse, he had brought what was
left of the plunder and buried it in Mrs. Handsomebody’s back yard.'
'Mrs. Handsomebody’s back yard!' We chanted the words in utter
amazement.
'Just that,' affirmed Captain Pegg solemnly. 'Jenks found out that I
owned the house next door, but he dared not bury the treasure there
because the yard was smoothly sodded, and would show up any disturbance;
while Mrs. H.'s yard, being covered with planks, was just the thing. So
he simply raised one of the planks, dug a hole, and deposited the sack
containing the last of the treasure, and wrote me his confession. And
there you are!'
He smiled benignly on us. I longed to hug him.
The wind swooped and whistled down the alley, and the starling gave
little sharp twittering noises and cocked his head.
'When, oh, when?' we burst out; 'to-night? May we search for it
to-night, Captain Pegg?'
He reflected. 'No-o. Not to-night. Jenks, you see, sent me a plan of the
yard, with a cross to mark where the treasure lies, and I’ll have to
hunt it up so as not to waste our time turning up the whole yard. But
to-morrow night--yes, to-morrow at midnight we’ll start the search!'
IV
At dinner that day the rice-pudding had the flavor of ambrosia. By
night-fall preparations were already on foot.
First, the shovel had been smuggled from the coal-cellar and secreted in
a corner of the yard behind the ash-barrel, together with an iron
crowbar to use as a lever, and an empty sack to aid in the removal of
the treasure.
I scarcely slept that night; and when I did, my mind was filled with
wild imaginings. The next morning we were heedless scholars indeed, and
at dinner I ate so little that Mrs. Handsomebody was moved to remark
jocularly that somebody not a thousand miles away was shaping for a
bilious bout.
At four o’clock Captain Pegg appeared at his window, looking the picture
of cheerful confidence. He said it warmed his heart to be at his old
profession again, and indeed I never saw a merrier twinkle in any one’s
eyes. He had found the plan of the yard sent by Jenks, and he had no
doubt that we should soon be in possession of the Spanish treasure.
'But there’s one thing, my lads,' he said solemnly: 'I make no claim
whatever to any share in this booty. Let that be understood. Anything we
find is to be yours entirely. If I were to take any such goods into my
son’s house, his wife would get suspicious, and uncomfortable questions
would be asked, and it’d be all up with this archæologist business.'
'Couldn’t you hide it under your bed?' I suggested.
'Oh, she’d be sure to find it,' he replied sadly. 'She’s into
everything. And even if they didn’t locate it till I am dead, they’d
feel disgraced to think their father had been a pirate. You’ll have to
take it.'