BOOK III

THE ISLAND OF THE STAIRS

[Illustration: THE FLIGHT FROM THE PLACE OF HORROR]

The

Island of the Stairs

By CYRUS TOWNSEND BRADY

Author of “The Island of Regeneration,” “As the

Sparks Fly Upward,” “The West Wind,” Etc.

[Illustration]

With Four Illustrations By

THE KINNEYS

A. L BURT COMPANY, PUBLISHERS

114-120 East Twenty-third Street - - New York

PUBLISHED BY ARRANGEMENT WITH A. C. MCCLURG & COMPANY

COPYRIGHT

A. C. McCLURG & CO.

1913

Published November, 1913

Copyrighted in Great Britain

_This story is affectionately

dedicated to my far-off adventurous

Brother-in-law_,

_E. S. BARRETT_

EDITOR’S NOTE

In order to safeguard the reputation of that worthy seaman and most

gallant gentleman who writes this memoir, the editor thereof deems it

proper to call attention to the fact that Master Hampdon has described

accurately the Island of Mangaia of the Cook, or Hervey, group in the

South Seas. It is still completely encircled by the unbroken barrier

reef, over which the natives ride in their light canoes. The stairs

still exist despite the earthquake to which Master Hampdon refers--and

other upheavals which may have followed--and are still traversed by the

feet of curious, if infrequent, visitors. For the rest, such altars and

platforms as he and his little lady found still abound in the South

Seas. Also on Easter Island, and on others, too, such statues of the

grotesque and hideous “Stone Goddes” as he describes may be seen. Who

made them and why, as well as when they were put there, are as much

mysteries today as they were when, in that far-off time, Master Hampdon

and his lady sailed those then unknown seas in that brave little

barque _The Rose of Devon_.

C. T. B.

_Mount Vernon, N. Y._

ILLUSTRATIONS

The flight from the place of horror _Frontispiece_

PAGE

“The treasure is thereabouts” 122

Then she bent over me 190

She had stepped out by my side 290

BOOK I

WITHIN THE CASTLE WALLS

_The Bequest of the Old Buccaneer_

THE ISLAND OF THE STAIRS

CHAPTER I

WHEREIN I BAIT THE LIVING OVER THE DEAD

I cannot say that I was greatly surprised when I stumbled across the

body of Sir Geoffrey in the spinney, which is not for a moment meant to

convey the impression that I was not shocked. Many times before that

morning in my long and adventurous life I had, as I have often since,

seen many people die in all sorts of sudden and dreadful ways, in all

parts of the globe, too. And in some cases where the sufferer was past

hope and the suffering great, I have prayed for the good mercy of a

quick end; but never, even under such circumstances, have I been able

to look upon death philosophically, at least afterwards. The shock is

always there. It always will be, I imagine; indeed I would not have

it otherwise. I hope never to be indifferent to the passing of that

strange mysterious thing we call life. But I digress.

Truth to tell, I had expected that Sir Geoffrey would come to some

such sad end, therefore, I repeat that I was not surprised; but as I

stood over him in the gray dawn, looking down upon him lying so quietly

on his back with the handsome, silver-mounted, ivory-handled dueling

pistol, with which he had killed himself, still clasped in his right

hand, I was fascinated with horror. I was younger then and not so

accustomed to sudden death as I have become since so many years and so

much hard service have passed over my head.

And this was in a large measure a personal loss. At least I felt it so

for Mistress Lucy’s sake, and for my own, too. Sir Geoffrey had been my

ideal of the fine gentleman of his time. I liked him much. He had often

honored me with notice and generally spoke me fair and pleasantly.

In his situation some men would have blown out their brains--and there

would have been a singular appositeness in the action in his case--but

Sir Geoffrey had carefully put his bullet through his heart. It was

less disfiguring and brutal, less hard on those left behind, less

troublesome, more gentlemanly! I divined that was his thought. He was

ever considerate in small matters.

The red stain that had welled over the fine ruffled linen, otherwise

spotless, of his shirt and the powder marks and burns still visible

thereon in spite of the dried blood, all indicated clearly what had

happened. The pistol was a short one, heavy in build, made for close

work, else he could never have used it so effectively. For the rest,

he was clad in his richest and best apparel. His sword lay underneath

him, the diamond-studded hilt protruding. He must have fallen lightly,

gently, I thought, because his body lay easily on its back and his

dress was not greatly disturbed.

I guessed that he was glad enough, after all, that the end had come,

for his countenance had not that look of pain, or horror, or fear

upon it, which I have so often seen on the face of the dead. His

features were calm and composed. Evidently he had not been dead long. I

remember the first thing I did was to reach down and gently close his

eyes. I shall never forget them to my dying day. They were dreadfully

staring. As I bent over him for this purpose I noticed that he had

something in his left hand. That hand was resting lightly by the hilt

of his sword as if he had stood with his left hand on his sword in that

gallant defiant position which I had often enough seen him assume,

when he pressed the trigger with his right hand. As he had fallen, his

hand had been lifted a little away from the sword and in his fingers

there was a paper. A nearer look showed it to be an envelope. I drew it

away and, glancing at it, saw that it was addressed to Mistress Lucy.

Thrusting it in the pocket of my coat, I rose to my feet.

At that instant I heard steps and voices. Now I had nothing on earth

to fear from anybody. The death of Sir Geoffrey was too obviously a

suicide for anyone to accuse me, even if there had been any reason

whatever for bringing me under suspicion. The letter which I carried

in my pocket addressed to Mistress Lucy would undoubtedly explain

everything there was to explain. Something, however, moved me to seek

concealment. I am a sailor, as you will find out, and act quickly in

an emergency by a sort of instinct. On the sea men have little time

for reflection. The crisis is frequently upon one with little or no

warning, and generally it must needs be met on the instant and without

deliberation.

Sir Geoffrey lay on the side of the path which ran through the spinney

and beyond him the coppice thickened. The path twisted and turned. From

the sound of the footsteps, I judged that men were coming along it. I

instantly stepped across the body and concealed myself behind a tree

trunk in the leafy foliage of the undergrowth. I could see without

being seen, and hear as well.

The approaching footsteps might belong to some of the gamekeepers,

to a stray poacher, to some of the servants of the castle, or to

someone who, like myself, had been abroad in the gray dawn and had

been attracted to the spot by the sound of the shot, although they

approached over leisurely for that. I was prepared for any of these

things but I did not expect that any of the guests of the castle would

make their appearance at that hour. The footsteps stopped. Two men,

one of whom had been pointed out to me as Baron Luftdon in the lead

followed by another who was strange to me, suddenly appeared. A voice

which I recognized as the baron’s at once exclaimed in awe-struck tones:

“By gad, he’s done it!”

“Yes,” drawled the other, whose cold blooded calmness was in marked

contrast with the unwonted excitement of the first speaker, “I rather

expected it.”

“Here’s a pretty affair,” said the first man.

“Oh, I don’t know,” said the second indifferently, “it might be worse.”

“Worse for him? Great heavens, man, he’s dead!”

“Worse for us.”

“What d’ ye mean? I don’t understand.”

“Well, for instance, he might have shot himself before we--ah--plucked

him.”

“Oh, I see,” returned my lord with a rather askant glance at his

companion, for which I almost respected him for the moment.

The two stepped a little nearer. The first speaker, Lord Luftdon, one

of the young bloods who had been having high carouse with Sir Geoffrey

for the past week at the castle, bent over him.

“There’s no doubt about his being dead, I suppose?” he asked after a

brief inspection.

“Good gad, no,” replied the second man with a contemptuous laugh.

“Where are your wits, man? He must have held the muzzle of the pistol

close to his breast. See how his shirt is burned and powder blackened.

He must have died instantly.”

“I suppose you are right.”

“Well,” continued the drawler nonchalantly--as for me I hated them both

but the latter speaker the more if possible, for reasons which you will

presently understand--“this relieves me greatly.”

“What do you mean?”

“You are very stupid this morning, _mon ami_,” returned the other,

gracefully taking a pinch of snuff and laughing again with that

horrible indifference to the dead man who had been his host and friend.

“After such a night as we had, to come thus suddenly upon--this--’tis

enough to unsettle any man,” muttered Luftdon apologetically.

“Pooh, pooh! man, you’re nervous.”

“Well, I don’t know how it relieves you. And after all’s said and done,

Wilberforce was a gentleman, a good player and a gallant loser, and I

liked him.”

“Exactly, I liked him too, well enough. And he lost his all like a

gentleman.”

“And you got it, at least most of it.”

“Patience, my friend, you had your share, you know,” returned the other

with his damnable composure.

“I don’t know but I’d give it back to have poor old Geoff with us once

again,” retorted Luftdon with some heat.

“That is a perfectly foolish statement, my buck,” returned the

other, philosophically taking snuff. “Somebody was bound to get it;

Wilberforce has been going the pace for years; we happened to be in at

the death, that’s all.”

“Well, how does it relieve you, then? Do you think Wilberforce would

have attempted to get you to support him?”

The drawler laughed.

“Of course not, this”--he pointed to the dead body--“is proof enough of

the spirit that was in him; but of course, I cannot marry the girl now.”

“You can’t?”

“Certainly not. Her father a bankrupt and a suicide--”

“But the castle and this park?”

“Mortgaged up to the hilt. Speaking of hilts--” he stooped down and

daintily avoiding contact with the corpse, drew from the scabbard the

diamond-hilted sword--“this belongs to me. It’s worth taking. You

remember he staked it last night on the last deal.”

“Good God, man,” protested the first speaker, “don’t take the man’s

sword away. Let him lie with his weapons like a gentleman.”

“Tut, tut, you grow scrupulous, it seems. We will provide him a cheaper

badge of his knighthood, if necessary,” returned the other lightly.

“And about the girl?”

“’Tis all off.”

“You will have some trouble breaking your engagement with her, I am

thinking.”

“Not I. To do her justice, the wench has the spirit of her father.

A whisper that I am--er--disinclined to the match will be quite

sufficient.”

“Aye, but who will give her that whisper?”

“We will arrange that some way. Truth to tell, I am rather tired of

the minx, she bores me with her high airs. She does not know that she

is penniless and disgraced. And as for her good looks--’tis a country

beauty after all.”

“Poor girl--” began Luftdon, whose face, though bloated and flushed and

seamed with the outward and visible evidences of his evil life, still

showed some signs of human kindness.

At that point I intervened. I could bear no more. When they spake so

slightingly of my little mistress it was more than I could stand.

I burst out of the brush and stood before them--mad, enraged all

through me. I will admit that I lacked the composure and breeding of

that precious pair. What I had heard had filled me with as hot an

indignation as ever possessed the soul of man, and with every moment

the fire of my resentment burned higher and more furiously. They

started back at my sudden appearance, in some little discomfiture, from

which he of the slower speech the more speedily recovered. He was the

greater man, and eke the greater villain. The younger, the one with the

red face, looked some of the discomposure he felt. The other presently

leered at me in a deliberate and well intentioned insulting way and

began:

“Now who may you be, my man, and what may you want?”

“Who I may be matters nothing,” said I, “but what I want matters a

great deal.”

“Ah! And what is it that you want that matters so much?”

“In the first place, that sword.”

“This?” asked the sneering man, holding Sir Geoffrey’s handsome weapon

lightly by the blade and smiling contemptuously at me.

“That,” answered I with equal scorn.

I am accustomed to move quickly as well as to think quickly, and before

he knew it, I had it by the hilt and but that he released the blade

instantly I would have cut his hand as I withdrew it. He swung round

and clapped his hand on his own sword, a fierce oath breaking from his

lips, his face black as a thundercloud.

“Don’t draw that little spit of yours,” I said, “or I will be under the

necessity of breaking your back.”

I towered above both of them and I have no doubt that I could have made

good my boast. Yet, to do him justice, the man had the courage of his

race and station. He faced me undaunted, his hand on his sword hilt.

“Would you rob me of mine own, Sirrah?” he asked more calmly if not

less irritatingly.

“I might do so, and with justice,” I replied. “You had no hesitation in

robbing the living or the dead.”

“Zounds!” cried the other man, touched on the raw of a guilty

conscience apparently, “’twas in fair play. We risked each what we had

and Sir Geoffrey lost.”

“Yes, I see,” I replied. “Having paid you with everything else, and

possessing nothing beside, he had to throw away his life in the end. I

heard what you said. You wonder how Mistress Wilberforce is to learn

the situation--you who have doubtless once borne the reputation of a

man of honor! You wonder who is to tell her that you discard her. I

will.”

“That is good, well thought of, yokel,” said the drawler with amazing

assurance, and keeping his temper in a way that increased mine, “I

could not have wished it better. As for your reflections upon me they

interest me not at all. You are doubtless some servant of the house--”

“I am no man’s servant,” I interrupted in some heat.

“Somebody born on the place who probably cherishes a peasant’s humble

admiration for the lady of the manor,” he continued.

I displayed the red ensign in my weather-beaten cheeks at this. I never

was good at the dissimulation that goes on in polite society and I

never could control my color for all I am bronzed with the wind and

spray of all the seas, to say nothing of tropic suns.

“Ah,” he laughed sneeringly, taking keen note of my confusion, “see the

red banner of confession in the brute’s face, Lord Luftdon.”

“I see it, of course,” said the other, whose frowning face was far

redder than my own, though from drink--“but I must confess that

personally I don’t like the allusion.”

“That for your likes, Luftdon,” cried the other as contemptuous of his

companion as of me apparently. “Tell her, my man, tell her. Tell her

that she is a beggar and her father a suicide, and that I have all her

property without her. She can go to your arms or those of any other she

fancies. She is not meet for the Duke of Arcester.”

So this was Arcester! I had heard of him, as I had of Luftdon, two

of the most debauched, unprincipled rakes, idlers, fortune hunters,

gamblers, men-about-town, in all England. But of the two he bore much

the worse reputation. Indeed, no one in that day surpassed him in

baseness and villainy. But that he was a duke, he had been branded,

jailed, or even hanged long since in England. But I cared nothing for

his dukedom. As he spoke thus slightingly of my lady, I stepped closer

to him and struck him with the palm of my hand. I suppose a gentleman

would have tapped him lightly but not being of that degree I struck

hard across the face, not so hard as I might have, to be sure, for I

could doubtless have killed him, but hard enough to make him reel and

stagger. His sword was out on the moment but before he could make a

pass I wrenched it from him, broke the blade over my knee and hurled

the two pieces into the coppice.

“I can match you with swords,” said I, coolly enough now that the issue

was made and the battle about to be joined. “I have fought with men,

not popinjays, in my day, all over the world, and I know the use of the

weapon; but I would not demean myself, being an honest man though no

gentleman, much less a duke, by crossing blades with such a ruffian.”

“By God!” cried the duke furiously, “I will have you flogged and flung

into the mill pond, I will clap you in jail, I will--”

“You will do nothing of the sort,” said I, composedly. “There is no man

on the estate who would not take my part against you, especially when I

repeat what you have said about Mistress Lucy. They love her and they

loved him. With all his drink and extravagance he was a good master and

you have been a bad friend.”

“And who would believe you?” queried the duke, whose anger was at a

frightful height in being thus braved and insulted. In his agitation

he tore at his neckcloth and almost frothed at the mouth like a man in

a fit--I doubt he had ever been so spoken to before. “’Twould be your

word against mine, you dog, and--”

“For the matter of that, my word will not be uncorroborated,” I

interrupted swiftly.

“What d’ ye mean, curse you?”

“This gentleman--”

“By gad,” said Lord Luftdon, decisively, responding to my appeal more

bravely than I had thought, “you are right to appeal to me and you were

right to strike Arcester. ’Fore God, I’m sorry for the girl and for Sir

Geoffrey and ashamed for my--my--friend.”

“Would you turn against me in this?” asked the duke, surprised at this

amazing defection.

“I certainly would,” answered the other with dogged courage.

“God!” whispered his grace hotly, fumbling at the empty sheath, “I wish

I had my sword. I’d run the two of you through!”

“There is Sir Geoffrey’s sword,” said Lord Luftdon, who did not lack

courage, it seemed, clutching his own blade as he spoke and making as

if to draw it.

“No,” said I, master of the situation as I meant to be, “there shall

be no more fighting over the dead body of Sir Geoffrey. You and Lord

Luftdon can settle your differences elsewhere. I am glad for his

promise to tell the truth in case you attempt to carry out your threat

and I am just as grateful as if it had been necessary.”

“On second thought, there will be no further settlement,” said Luftdon,

regaining his coolness and thrusting back into its scabbard his

half-drawn blade. “His grace and I are in too many things to make a

permanent difference between us possible.”

“I thought so,” I replied.

“By gad,” laughed Luftdon, “I like your spirit, lad. Who are you, what

are you?”

“The late gardener’s son.”

“Do they breed such as you down here in these gardens?”

“As to that, I know not, my lord. I am a sailor. I have commanded my

own ship and made my own fortune. I come back here between cruises

because I am devoted to--”

“The woman!” sneered the duke, and I marveled at the temerity of the

man, seeing that I could have choked him to death with one hand.

“Mention her name again,” I cried, “and you will lie beside your victim

yonder!”

“Right,” said Luftdon approvingly.

“I come back here because I am fond of the old place. Lord Luftdon, it

is my home. My people have served the Wilberforces for generations.

Their forebears and mine lie together in the churchyard around the hill

yonder. You can’t understand devotion like that,” said I, turning to

the duke, “and ’tis not necessary that you should.”

“And indeed what is necessary for me, pray?” he sneered.

“That you and Lord Luftdon leave the place at once.”

“Without speech with my lady?”

“Without speech with anyone. There is a good inn at the village. I

will take it upon myself to see that your servants pack your mails and

follow you there at once.”

“I will not be ordered about like this,” protested the duke

blusteringly.

“Oh, yes you will,” said Luftdon. “The advice he gives is good. We have

nothing more to do here.”

“No,” said I bitterly, “you have done about all that you can. The man

is dead but the woman’s heart will not be broke because of you. Now go.”

“If I had a weapon,” said Arcester slowly, shooting at me a baleful

and envenomed glance, “I believe I would even send one of his faithful

retainers to accompany Sir Geoffrey.”

I never saw a man who was more furiously angry, baffled, humiliated

than he. As for me, I was glad of his rage. If I had known any way to

make him more angry and humiliated I confess I would have followed it.

“Don’t be a fool, Arcester,” said the other; “you’ve got everything you

wanted in this game and ’tis only just that you should pay a little for

it. What’s your name, my man?”

“Never mind what it is.”

“Are you ashamed of it?”

“Hampdon!”

“Master Hampdon, you may not be a gentleman,” said Luftdon, “but by

gad, you are a man, and here’s my hand on ’t.”

He had played a man’s part, so I clasped it.

“You will be embracing him next, inviting him to your club, I

suppose,” said Arcester in mocking contempt.

“No,” said Luftdon, sarcastically, “he would not be congenial company

for you and me, neither would we be for him. He seems to be an honest

man. Let’s go.”

And so they went down the path, leaving me not greatly relishing my

triumph, for now I had to tell Mistress Lucy all that had happened. I

had to say the words that would tell of the loss in one fell moment of

her father, of her property, and of her lover. I was greatly puzzled

what to say and how to say it, for Mistress Lucy Wilberforce was no

easy person to deal with at best.

CHAPTER II

WHICH SHOWS HOW I BROKE THE NEWS

The path from the spinney to the ancient castle which antedated King

Henry VIII, and which in its older parts goes much farther back into

the past, led through the park full of noble oaks and beeches, many

of them older even than the ancient and honorable family which now,

alas, bade fair to lose them all forever. As I trudged over it with

lagging footsteps, misliking my duty more and more as the necessity for

discharging it drew closer, I caught a glint of rapidly moving color on

the long driveway that led from the lodge to the steps of the hall. The

scarlet of my lady’s riding coat as she galloped up the tree bordered

road, it was that attracted my attention. I quickened my pace and we

arrived at the steps leading up to the terrace at the same instant. She

was alone, for she had either chosen to ride unaccompanied, as was her

frequent custom, or else, being the better mounted, she had left her

groom far behind.

I stood silent before her with that curious dumbness I generally

experience--even at this day--when first entering her presence, while

she drew rein sharply. She was a little thing compared to me, small

compared even to the average woman, but in one sense she was the

biggest thing I had ever confronted. No burly shipmaster had ever

impressed me so, not even when I was a raw boy on my first cruise.

I actually looked upon her with a feeling of--well, shall I say

awe?--mingled with other emotions which I would not have breathed to

a soul. The chance hit by the Duke of Arcester had brought the color

to my cheek and it takes something definite and apposite to bring the

color to a bronzed, weather-beaten cheek like mine, which has been

thrust into the face of wintry seas and exposed to tropical suns all

over the globe. That is the way I thought of her. I was almost afraid

of her! I, who feared nothing else on land or sea! What she thought of

me was of little moment to her.

It was Mistress Lucy’s regular habit to take a morning gallop every

day. It was that usual custom that caused her to look so fresh and

young and beautiful, that put the color in her cheek and the sparkle in

her eye. Although she had left her father playing hard late the night

before when she had gone to bed, there had been nothing in that to

cause her to intermit her practice. Poor girl, she had left her father

doing that more nights than she could remember in her short life, and I

suppose she had become used to it, to a certain extent, at any rate.

She nodded carelessly, yet kindly to me. It was her habit, that

careless kindness. When she was a little girl and I had been a great

boy we had played together familiarly enough--children caring little

for distinctions of rank, I have observed--but that habit was long

since abandoned. Then she looked about for her groom. The steps that

led to the terrace were deserted. Sir Geoffrey of late had grown slack

in the administration of affairs on account of his troubles, therefore

no attendant was at hand. Like master, like man! I suspected that the

servants had kept late hours, too. Indeed they probably plundered Sir

Geoffrey in every way and he, seeing that all was gone or going,

perhaps shut his eyes to their peculations. They might as well get what

was left as his creditors. Mistress Lucy after that first nod stared at

me frowning.

“Master Hampdon,” she said at last, “since nobody else seems to be

about, suppose you attempt the task.”

She loosed her little foot from the stirrup and thrust it out toward

me. I am nothing of a horseman. I was very early sent off to sea and

I have a sailor’s awkwardness with horses. Naturally I did not know

how a lady should be dismounted from her horse. I had never attempted

the thing and I did not recall ever to have seen it done, otherwise I

might have managed, for I am quick enough at mechanical things; but her

desire was obvious and I must accomplish it the best I could. I stepped

over to her, disregarding her outthrust foot, for all its prettiness,

seized her about the waist with both hands, lifted her bodily from the

saddle and set her down gently on the gravel. She looked at me very

queerly and gave a faint shriek when her weight came upon my arms.

Indeed, I have no doubt that I held her tightly enough through the air.

“I dare say there is not a man among my father’s friends or mine, who

could have done that, Master Hampdon,” said she, smiling up at me a

little and looking flushed and excited.

“’Tis no great feat,” said I stupidly enough, “I have lifted bigger--”

“Women!” flashed out Mistress Lucy slightly frowning.

“Things,” I replied.

“It amazes me,” she said. “I have never been dismounted that way

before. However, I remember you always were stronger than most

men, even as a boy. There seem to be no grooms about, the place is

wretchedly served. Will you take my horse to the stables?” she asked me.

There was a certain flattery to me in that request. If I had not shown

her how strong I was, in all probability she would have thrown me

the bridle and with a nod toward the stables to indicate her wishes

would have left me without a word. Now it was different. I took the

bridle, not intending, however, to take the horse around, not because

I disdained to do her any service but because I had other duties to

discharge more important than the care of horses.

“Have you seen my father this morning?” she asked as I paused before

her and then, not giving me time to answer, looked up at the sun. “But

of course not,” she continued, a little bitterly, “he probably only

went to bed an hour or two since and ’tis not his habit to rise so

early as you and I.”

As luck would have it, while she spoke a sleepy groom chanced to come

round the house. I flung the reins to him, bade him take the horse away

and turned to my lady.

“Madam,” said I, my voice thickening and choking, “as it happens, I

have seen your noble father this morning.”

There was something in my voice and manner, great stupid fool that I

was, that instantly apprised her that something was wrong. With one

swift step she was by my side.

“Where?”

“In the spinney.”

“When?”

“But just now.”

“What does he there at this hour?”

“Nothing.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Sir Geoffrey--” I began racking my brains, utterly at loss what to say

next and how to convey the awful tidings.

She made a sudden step or two in my direction, then turned toward the

coppice, her suspicions fully aroused.

But now I ventured upon a familiarity, that is, I turned with her and

caught her by the arm before she could take a step.

“I will see him myself,” she began resolutely.

“Madam,” said I swiftly, “you cannot.”

“Master Hampdon,” she said, “something dreadful has happened.”

I nodded.

This was breaking it gently with a vengeance, but what could I do? She

always did twist me around her little finger and I was always more or

less helpless before her. I admit that. I am still, for that matter,

although she will not have it so.

“What is it? Is my father--what is he doing in the spinney? He never

rises at this hour.”

“Mistress Wilberforce,” I said, “you come of a brave stock and the

time for your courage is now.”

“Is my father dead?” she asked, after a sudden, awful stillness.

I nodded while she stared at me like one possessed.

“Killed in a duel?” she whispered. I shook my head.

“Would to God I could think so,” I replied.

“You mean that he was--murdered?”

“Mistress,” said I bluntly, seeing no other way, “he died by his own

hand.”

“Oh, my God!” she cried, clapping her hands to her face and reeling

back.

I caught her about the waist. She had no knowledge that she was held or

supported, of course; all her interest and attention were elsewhere.

She did not weep or give way otherwise. She was a marvelous woman and

her self-mastery and control amazed me, for I knew how she had loved

her father.

“When? Why?” she gasped out.

“I was early awake and abroad,” I answered--and I did not tell her it

was my habit to see her gallop off for that morning ride, for even

a glimpse of her was worth much to me--“and I heard a shot in the

spinney. I hurried there and found Sir Geoffrey--”

“Dead?”

“Stone dead, mistress, with a bullet in his heart.”

“Let us go to him.”

“No,” said I, and I marveled to find myself assuming the direction as

if I had been on the deck of my own ship, “that you cannot. It is no

sight for your eyes now. I was coming to the castle to tell you and to

send the servants to fetch--him. Meanwhile, do you go into the hall and

summon your women and--”

“I will do what you say, Master Hampdon,” she whispered, very small,

very forlorn, very despairing. “My father, oh, my good, kind father!”

She turned, and I still supporting her, we mounted the steps of the

terrace. Suddenly she stopped, freed herself, and faced me.

“Lord Luftdon and the Duke of Arcester,” she explained, “they are

staying at the castle; they must be notified.”

“Madam,” said I, “they already know it.”

“And why then have they left the duty of telling me to you? Where are

they? Summon them at once.”

“They are gone,” I blurted out, all my rage at the duke reviving on the

instant.

“Gone!”

“Having won everything from Sir Geoffrey they have left him alone in

his death,” I retorted bitterly.

“Impossible!”

“I ordered them off the place,” I said bluntly.

“You!” she flashed out imperiously. “And who gave you the power to

dismiss my--my father’s friends?”

“I heard what they said, being close hid myself in the coppice.”

“And what said they?”

“It concerned you, mistress.”

“The Duke of Arcester,” she promptly began, “is my betrothed husband. I

will hear no calumny against him.”

“Madam,” I said, keenly aware that I had made no charges yet and

wondering at her thought, “your engagement is broken.”

“Broken!” she cried in amaze.

“The duke declared himself to his friend to be too poor to marry the

penniless child of a--disgraced man--his words, not mine, believe me.”

The awful death of her beloved father had been shock enough to her, but

with this insult added I thought she would have swooned dead away. She

turned so white and reeled so that I caught her again. I even shook her

while I cried roughly,

“You must not give way.”

“It is a lie, a dastardly lie!” she panted out at last.

“It is God’s truth,” said I. “He repudiates you.”

“No man could be so base,” she persisted, “he swore that he loved me.”

“I would it were otherwise, madam, but he is gone, leaving that message

for you.”

“And he made you his messenger?”

“I volunteered.”

“Why? Why?”

“Because he is a low coward.”

“And you stood by and let him insult me, your patron’s daughter, your

mistress?”

Now so far as that went, I had got mightily little out of the late Sir

Geoffrey’s patronage, but whatever duty I could compass I would gladly

pay the little lady who stood before me.

“Mistress, you misjudge me. He had taken Sir Geoffrey’s sword, saying

that he had won it with everything else. I took it from him. When he

said those words about you I struck him across the face, no light blow,

I assure you. When he grasped his own sword I wrenched it away from

him, broke it, and cast it away. You may find the broken pieces in the

spinney. I told him that you were meet for his betters and that you

were well rid of him, and bade him begone.”

“In that,” she said in a certain strained way, “you acted as a loyal

servitor of the house and I thank you.”

“I am to give orders to have his baggage sent to the inn at once,” said

I.

“And Lord Luftdon?”

“He came to your defense as if he were still the gentleman he had once

been. But he goes hence with his friend. His baggage will also follow

him.”

“I will attend to that for them both,” said Mistress Lucy, growing

strangely and firmly resolved again, and even I could guess the

tremendous constraint she put upon herself. “Enough of Arcester. I am

well rid of him and of his companion. Summon the servants to bring my

father’s body to the castle. I suppose the crowner will have to be

notified.”

“Yes,” said I. “I will see to that myself.”

“Of all my friends,” said she piteously, almost giving way, “you seem

to be the only one left me, Master Hampdon.”

“I have been your faithful servant always, Mistress Lucy,” I answered

as I ushered her into the hall.

CHAPTER III

IN WHICH I DELIVER A LETTER

I delivered my little mistress to her woman who came at my call, and

then I summoned the steward and butler and told them what had happened.

In a moment all was confusion. But presently they brought the body of

Sir Geoffrey back to the castle which was no longer his. As the duke

had said, it was mortgaged to its full value. The unfortunate baronet

had gambled away everything in his possession, the family jewels, the

heirlooms of his daughter, and even the property that had been left to

her by her dead mother, of which he was trustee. Everything that he

could get his hands on had been sacrificed to his passion for play.

Following the inquest, and after a due interval to show a decent

respect for the dead, there was a great funeral, of course, during

which what little ready money there was available was of necessity

spent. The gentry came for miles around, even Luftdon was there in

the background, although Arcester had the decency to keep away. I was

there, too, finding my place among the upper servants of the household.

Although I was in no sense a servant of the house, being a free and

independent sailorman and my own master, still I found no place else

to stand. I was glad that I had taken that position for I happened to

be immediately back of Mistress Lucy. From under her veil she shot a

forlorn, grateful look at me as she came in, as if she felt I was the

only real friend she had in that great assemblage of the gentry of the

county and the tenants and dependents of the estate.

Sir Geoffrey, except Mistress Lucy, was the last of his race. The

brave, fine old stock had at last been reduced to this one slender slip

of a girl. Kith or kin, save of the most distant, she had none. Nor did

she enjoy a wide acquaintance. She had never been formally introduced

to society. Sir Geoffrey had loved her and had been kind enough to her

in his careless, magnificent way, but she had been left much alone

since the death of her mother some years before, and she had grown up

under the care of a succession of wandering and ill-paid governesses

and tutors. The neighboring gentry had assembled for the funeral with

much show of sympathy but in my heart I knew that Mistress Lucy felt

very much alone and I rather gloried in the position which made me,

humble though I was, her friend. Well, she could count upon me to the

death, I proudly said to myself. She would find I was always devoted

to her and I solemnly consecrated myself anew to her service in her

loneliness and bereavement.

The show and parade were over soon enough. The parson’s final words

of committal were said. We left Sir Geoffrey in his place in the

churchyard and went back to the hall, after which the company began to

disperse. I had nothing to do at the time. No one paid any attention

to me. I held myself above the servants and the gentry held themselves

above me. I wandered into the hall and stood waiting. No one spoke to

me save Lord Luftdon, who expressed a heart-felt regret that he had had

anything to do with the final plundering of the unfortunate baronet,

which in a measure had brought about this sorry ending to his career.

“You seem to be a man of sense, Master Hampdon,” he whispered, drawing

me apart, after it was all over, “and I noticed the way Mistress

Wilberforce looked at you when she first came in.”

“What do you mean?” I asked hotly, not liking to hear her name on his

lips, and especially resenting what I thought was a reflection upon her.

“Nothing but the best,” he answered equably. “I have still unspent some

of the proceeds of our last bout at the table with her father that

could be conveyed to the lady, and--”

“She would burn her hand off rather than accept anything,” said I

promptly.

“But, man, I wish to--” he persisted.

“It is not to be thought of.”

“You speak with authority?” he asked, looking at me strangely.

“I have known her from a child,” said I, “and her father before her. It

is not in the breed to take favors, and--”

“But this is--er--restitution.”

“Did you win it fairly?” I asked.

“By God,” he answered, clapping his hand to his sword, “if another had

asked me that I would have had him out.”

“Your answer?” I persisted, undaunted by his fierceness.

He smiled, his sudden heat dying out apparently as he realized how

foolish it was to quarrel with me and discovered the meaning of my

question.

“Of course we won it fairly. Sir Geoffrey was the most reckless and

even the most foolish gambler I ever played with. We took advantage of

that, but there was no cheating, Master Hampdon, no, on my honor, as I

am a gentleman.”

“Under the circumstances then,” said I, “there is nothing further to be

said.”

“But what will the poor girl do?” he demanded.

I shook my head. I did not know how to answer that question for I did

not know what she would do. Nevertheless I was not a little touched and

pleased with his interest and desire. Surely the man had some good in

him still. Association with such a scoundrel as Arcester had not yet

wholly ruined him.

“You should have thought of this before,” said I.

“Yes, I suppose so,” he admitted rather woefully.

“It is too late to make reparation now, although the wish does you

honor, my lord.”

“Well, Hampdon, if you have a chance to tell her what I wanted,” he

said, “please do. I should do it myself,” he continued, “only since

her repudiation by that blackguard Arcester she will not admit me to

speech. By gad--” he looked over at her where she stood in the doorway

going through the dreary process of bidding farewell to the guests

after the funeral meal that had followed the interment, “by gad, if I

were a bit younger and not so confoundedly in debt I would marry the

woman myself.”

“She is meet for a better man, my lord,” said I, exactly as I had

answered the duke.

He looked at me curiously for a moment and then laughed loudly.

“Doubtless,” he said, “you may tell her that, too.”

With that he turned on his heel and walked away and I saw no more of

him. I stood idle on the terrace until the last of the gentry had

gone. As before, I did not know just what to do or just where to go.

My position was most anomalous. I wanted to be of service, but how to

offer myself without intrusion, I could not readily discover. It was my

lady herself who solved the problem.

“Master Hampdon,” she began wearily, “will you come into the house?

Master Ficklin, the lawyer, is here, waiting to go over my father’s

papers with me. You have stood by me manfully, your people and my

people have been--” she stopped a moment, “friends,” she added with

kindly condescension, “for five hundred years. I have no one else with

whom to counsel. Come with me.”

Sir Geoffrey’s will, as Master Ficklin read it, was a simple affair.

It left everything of which he died possessed to his daughter.

Unfortunately, he died possessed of nothing; the document was mere

waste paper. Everything was mortgaged, every family portrait, even.

Mistress Lucy appeared to have no legal right to anything in or out of

the castle apparently, save the clothes she wore.

“Sir Geoffrey,” said Master Ficklin, endeavoring to put a good face on

the matter, “was well meaning--most well meaning. Not only did he play

high and long at the gaming table but he speculated also, for he was

always trusting to recoup himself; in which event doubtless there would

have been a handsome patrimony for his daughter.”

“You may spare me any encomiums of my father, Master Ficklin,” said

Mistress Lucy very haughtily; “I knew his devotion and affection better

than anyone possibly could.”

In her mind there was no double meaning to these brave words she

uttered so quickly, although I listened amazed. To rob his daughter

of her all in the indulgence of a wicked passion for gaming and

speculation was no great evidence of devotion or affection, I thought.

However, Master Ficklin was only putting the best face upon a sorry

matter, and for that I honored him, for all my mistress’ haughty and

imperious manner.

“The point is, however,” she continued, as Master Ficklin bowed

deferentially toward her, “that I have nothing.”

“Nothing from your father, madam,” answered the man of law.

“But my mother’s estate?”

“I regret to say,” said Master Ficklin, “that most of it has been

converted into money and--er--lost by your father. Strictly speaking

he had no--er--legal right to dispose of your property and we might

recover by suits at law from those--”

“I gave him the right,” interrupted Mistress Lucy quickly.

She had never given him any such right, of course, but she was jealous

for the honor of her father and the family and I could only admire her

action, although the plain, blunt truth ever appeals to me, let it hurt

whom it may.

“In that case, there is nothing to be said or done,” returned the old

attorney, who knew the facts as well as I.

“I forget,” she went on, “just how much of my mother’s property was

devoted to--to our needs, by my father and myself.”

“There is left in my hands, madam, a matter of some two thousand

pounds out at interest which you, being now of full age--”

“I was eighteen on my last birthday.”

“Exactly, so that the two thousand is at your present disposal.”

“In what shape is it?”

“It is invested in consols.”

“Can they be realized upon?”

“Instantly.”

“To advantage?”

“Most certainly.”

“I thank you, Master Ficklin, for your provident care of my little

fortune. It is most unexpected,” she faltered, almost overwhelmed at

the sudden realization that she was not altogether a pauper.

“Believe me, Mistress Lucy, it is a happiness to do anything for you,”

said the old attorney, rising and gathering up his papers, and bowing

low before her. “My father, and his father before him served the

estates of the Wilberforces, and for how many generations back I know

not. You may command me in everything. A temporary loan, or--”

“Thank you, Master Ficklin,” said Mistress Lucy, “you touch me

greatly, but I need nothing at present. My father made me an allowance

and generally paid it. It was a generous one; living alone as I did

I could not spend it all. I have a few hundred pounds in my own name

at the bank, and with that for temporary use and my mother’s legacy I

shall lack nothing.”

“But where will you live, Mistress Lucy?”

“It matters little,” she answered listlessly.

“My sister and I,” said the old attorney, “live alone in the county

town. The house is large. If you would accept our hospitality until

your future is decided we should be vastly honored.”

“Master Ficklin--” began my lady.

“I know that the accommodations are poor,” interrupted the attorney

hastily, “and we are humble folk, but--”

“I accept your kindly proffer most thankfully,” was her prompt reply.

“I have been invited to various homes here and there in the county,

but those who invited me have sought to convey a favor to me by their

courtesy and I prefer to go to you.”

“Good,” said Master Ficklin briskly. “That is settled then. No one has

either a legal or a moral claim to your clothes or personal belongings

or such jewelry as you have been accustomed to wear or have in your

possession. You may pack everything of that sort and take away with

you any little keepsake. In fact, I am empowered by those who held the

mortgage to tell you that the pictures of your father or mother or

anything strictly personal they waive their claim to.”

“Thank you,” said Mistress Lucy, “I shall take but small advantage of

their generosity.”

“I know that,” answered Master Ficklin, “and now I will return to the

town. If you will be ready about six o’clock--” it was then about

two--“I will return and fetch you to our home.”

“I shall be ready. Good-by.”

The little lawyer bent over her hand and left the room. I had sat dumb

and silent during the whole interview, although I had listened to

everything with the deepest interest. As usual it was she who broke the

silence when we were alone again.

“Master Hampdon,” she began, “to what a sorry pass am I reduced! What

shall I do now?”

“My lady,” said I, “the sorriest part of the pass to which you have

been brought is that you have in me such a poor counselor, a rough

sailor, but one who would, nevertheless, give his heart’s blood to

promote your welfare, or do you any service.”

Now as I said that I laid my hand on the breast of my coat and as I

bent awkwardly enough toward her--I could not even bow as gracefully as

the little attorney just departed--I felt the paper which I had taken

from Sir Geoffrey’s hand and which I had entirely forgot in the hurry

and confusion of the days that had followed his death. I stood covered

with surprise and shame at my careless forgetfulness, and stared at her.

“What is it?” she asked, instantly noting my amaze.

“I am a fool, madam, a blundering fool,” said I, drawing forth the

paper. “Here is a letter addressed to you which I should have delivered

at once,” I continued extending it toward her.

“To me? From whom?” she asked.

“Your father.”

“My father!” she exclaimed.

“Yes, I took it from his dead hand that morning and thrust it into the

breast of my coat and forgot it until this very moment. It may be vital

to your future, my carelessness may have lost you--”

“It can lose me nothing,” said the girl with unwonted gentleness. I

looked for her to rate me sharply, as I deserved, for my forgetfulness,

but she was in another mood. “I can read it now with more composure and

understanding than before,” she went on.

She tore open the envelope as she spoke and drew forth a letter,

unfolded it, and there dropped from it a little piece of parchment

which I instantly picked up and extended to her. But she was so

engrossed in the letter that she did not see my action and paid no

attention to my outstretched hand.

CHAPTER IV

SHOWS HOW TWO PIECES OF PARCHMENT WERE FITTED TOGETHER

Under the circumstances, therefore, and without a thought that my

action might be considered a possible violation of confidence, I

looked at the parchment I held in my hand. It was evidently the half

of a larger sheet which had been torn in two. The right half was in my

possession. A glance showed me that it was a part of a rudely-drawn

map, apparently of an island, although, lacking the other half, of that

I could not be quite certain. Being a seafaring man, I was familiar

with maps and charts of all sorts but I must admit that I had never

seen a map that looked exactly like that one. It was lettered in

characters which were very old and quaint, and some figures in the

upper right-hand corner appeared to indicate a longitude. The outlines

of the map and the letters and figures were all very dim and faded and

a longer and closer inspection than I could give it then would be

needed to show just what they were.

My lady’s letter was a short one, for she looked up from it presently,

her eyes filled with tears, the first I had seen there, and for that

reason I was glad she could enjoy this relief. I suppose the fact that

she was so alone and had no one else induced her to confide in me. At

any rate, she extended the paper to me.

“Read it,” she said. “’Tis my father’s last word to me.”

I took it from her and this is what I read:--

_My Dear Lucy_:

As an ancient King of France once said, everything is lost but honor,

and that trembles in the balance. I have speculated, gambled, tempted

fortune; first because I loved it and at last hoping to win for you.

But everything has gone wrong. You are penniless, even your mother’s

fortune, of which she foolishly made me trustee, has followed my own.

Master Ficklin may save something from the wreck. I hope so. I can do

no more and perhaps, nay certainly, the best thing I can do for you

is to leave you. May God help you since I cannot.

Your shamed and unhappy father,

GEOFFREY WILBERFORCE.

Post Scriptum: The last thing that I possess is this scrap of

parchment. It has been handed down from father to son for five

generations. The tradition of it is lost, but there has always been

attached to it a singular value. Perhaps some day the missing part

may turn up. There used to be a little image with it, but that has

disappeared, too. At any rate, of all that I once had, this alone is

left. Should you marry and have children pass it to them, a foolish

request, but I am moved to make it as my father made it to me.

G. W.

I read it slowly. It was not a brave man’s letter. I liked Sir Geoffrey

less then than ever before. Some of the ancient awe and reverence I

felt for the family went out of my heart then. Well, the man was dead,

and there was no use dwelling on that any longer. I handed the letter

back to Mistress Lucy without comment. As she took it I extended the

parchment in the other hand.

“Here,” said I, “is the enclosure to which your father refers. It seems

to be a chart or map but in its torn condition it is of but little use.”

She took it listlessly, but as her glance fell upon it her face

brightened.

“Why!” she exclaimed, brushing aside her tears, “I, myself, have the

other half and also the image.”

I stared at her stupidly, not in the least taking in her meaning and

she evidently resented my dullness.

“I have the other half of the parchment, the missing portion of the

map, and the little idol, I tell you,” she urged.

“You don’t mean to say--” I began in amazement.

“Yes,” she interrupted, “they came to me from my mother. When she died

five years ago she gave them to me with much the same account as my

father writes. I have never shown them to anyone, never mentioned the

circumstances, even.”

“Why not?” I asked.

“I scarcely know. The torn map was valueless. I attached no special

importance to the hideous little image. But now, now--”

“It is a miracle,” I said, “that the two pieces should have come

together in your hands.”

“I don’t yet understand what it all means,” she said, “but--”

“Meanwhile,” said I, “may I respectfully suggest that you get the

other piece and the idol or image and let me look at them? I know

something about such matters.”

“You!” she flashed out in one of those sudden changes of mood,

sometimes so delightful and sometimes the reverse.

“I am a seafaring man, as you know, Mistress,” said I humbly, “and

I have seen many strange gods in different parts of the world. Also

I am accustomed to study maps and charts. Perhaps this may contain

information vital to your fortunes which I can decipher more easily

than another.”

She nodded and went rapidly out of the room. In a few moments she came

back with another piece of parchment and a little stone figure, which

I glanced at and laid aside for the moment, fixing my attention on the

parchments. I placed them side by side and the torn and jagged edges

fitted into each other perfectly. I had laid them on a table and bent

over them in great excitement, excitement on my part caused by her

proximity rather than by the faded, yellow sheepskin.

“It is an island!” she exclaimed.

“Yes,” said I.

“Where is it?” she asked.

I pointed with my huge index finger to the figures in the upper

left-hand corner and the upper right-hand corner marked respectively

latitude and longitude.

“That will tell us exactly.”

“And you can find it?”

“If it be there, where the figures say it is, I can, as easily as I can

find the park gate yonder.”

She looked at me with a certain amount of awe. Evidently the nice

possibilities of the art of navigation had not been brought to her

attention. I went up several degrees in her respect it seemed because I

knew something she did not. Well, she was to find out that I knew many

things that she did not--but I must not boast.

“Why, that is wonderful!” she exclaimed.

“Not at all. It is done by seamen every day.”

“Have you ever been there?”

“No,” said I, “I have crossed the South Seas several times but I have

never chanced upon that island or in fact sailed anywhere near that

latitude or longitude.”

“But you know where it is?”

“Exactly, and if I had my great chart of the South Seas here, I could

put my finger upon it and show it to you.”

“What,” she asked, pointing with her own dainty finger in her turn, “is

that ring around the island?”

“That will be a coral reef, I take it. They usually are broken at some

point so that ships can sail within, but here is a complete circle

enclosing the island. There seems to be no entrance anywhere. ’Tis

unusual and most strange.”

“Perhaps the man that drew the map made a mistake.”

“I think not. The map has been made by a seafaring man, that is plain.”

“I see, and the island itself is a circle,” she said, bending to

inspect it more closely.

“Yes,” said I, “and it is like no island that I have ever seen, for

here be two great rings like a gigantic wall and a hill or something

of the sort in the middle.” I bent lower over it in my turn. My eyes

are unusually keen and I saw words written on the outside of the island

proper and between it and the coral reef. “See,” said I, “the words ‘ye

stairs’!”

“Stairs!” exclaimed the girl in amazement, “did you ever see stairs on

such an island?”

“No, I have not. But these may only be some natural means of ascent.”

“It is most strange and meaningless,” she said.

“Not so, my lady,” I said, “these torn halves of the map have not been

preserved through generations and handed down from father to son, or

daughter, so carefully unless there be some meaning attached to them.

What do you know about it? Forgive the presumption of my inquiry, but

in this matter perhaps I can be of more service to you than I could be

in anything else.”

“You have been a faithful, devoted servitor, Master Hampdon,” she said,

“and I have no hesitation in telling you all I know. My mother and

father were distantly related, that is they were descendants in the

fifth generation from two brothers.”

“Exactly,” said I, “your father’s note says this piece of parchment

has been in possession of his family for five generations and evidently

the other was in the possession of your mother’s people for the same

time.”

“Why, that must be so,” said the girl amazed, “indeed, I think you are

very acute to have reasoned it out.”

“I have but anticipated your own reflections, I am sure,” said I. “Who

was the father of these two brothers?”

She thought a moment.

“Sir Philip Wilberforce was his name. He was--”

“A sailor!” I exclaimed on a venture.

“You have guessed rightly; he voyaged in distant seas in Queen

Elizabeth’s time. It is reported that he was one of the first who went

around the world after Sir Francis Drake showed all Englishmen the way.”

“Exactly,” I cried, “we are on the right track now. What further?”

“It is in my mind,” she said, “that Geoffrey and Oliver, his sons,

quarreled over his property after his death, and--”

“There you have it. They divided his fortune and tore the parchment

apart, it being thought valuable for some reason, and each kept half,”

I returned confidently.

“That is the tradition as regards the fortune, and it may account for

the parchment,” she admitted in admiration of my conclusion, though

indeed it was an easy one to draw.

“What next, madam?”

“The families drifted apart and gradually died out until Sir Geoffrey

and my mother were alone left of their respective lines, and without

knowing the relationship at the time they met and married, and I--” she

faltered and put her hand over her face--“am the only one left of the

family, of either branch.”

“Now here,” said I devoutly, for I fully believed what I said, “are the

workings of Divine Providence. The parchment came from old Sir Philip,

it was torn apart by his sons, and the pieces came not together until

in you the ancient lines were united.”

“Yes, but what does it mean?” she asked turning to the table again.

As she did so the sleeves of her dress caught the parchment and

separated the two pieces. One of them fell to the floor face downward.

I picked it up.

“Why, there is writing on it!” I exclaimed.

“So there is. I had forgotten that. It was unintelligible to me and, in

fact, I put it in my jewel case and forgot about it.”

“And the image?”

“It was so hideous and so repellent I thrust it into a drawer of my

cabinet and forgot it too.”

“Let’s put the two pieces together and take them to the light and see

if we cannot decipher it,” said I. “Mistress Wilberforce,” I continued,

“I have a sailor’s premonition that we are on the track of something

that may greatly better your fortunes.”

There was no table near the window but I spread the two pieces of

parchment on my two broad hands, from which you can get an idea of how

large they were. The writing was dim and faded with age. It seemed

to have been done with some sharp pointed instrument which cut into

the sheepskin, and where the ink which had been used had faded, the

scratches still remained. This that follows is what I made out. I have

reproduced exactly the old spelling and capitalization, and for your

further illumination I have copied as best I could the map, or chart,

upon the other side, so you can easily comprehend the story of our

adventures upon it as I am now endeavoring to relate them. Of course

my memory may be at fault in some particulars, but if so they are

unimportant. As for the image, I can never forget its grinning, malign,

evil hideousness, no, not to my dying day.

In ye yeare of oure Lorde 1595, I, Philip Wilberforce, Bt., of ye

countie of Devon, being ye captaine of ye good shippe _Scourge of

Malice_, didde take ye grate Spanish Galleon _Nuestra Senora de la

Concepcion_ after a bloudie encountre, wherein mine own shippe was

sunke. Ye lading of ye galleon was worthe muche monaie, milliones

of pounds esterling, I take yt. Withe manie jewelles and stones

of price, pieces of eight and bullione, together with silkes and

spicerie. Being blowne to ye southe and weste manie days in a grate

tempeste, ye galleon was caste awaye on Ye Islande of ye Staires.

Wee landed ye tresor and hidde yt in ye walle. Alle my menne being

in ye ende dead ye natives came over ye seas from ye other Islandes

in their grate cannos and tooke me, being like a madde manne. Godde

mercifullie preserving my life, I escaped frome themm and at last am

comme safe intoe mine own sweet lande of Englande once more. Toe

finde ye mouthe of ye tresor cave, take a bearing alonge ye southe

of ye three Goddes on ye Altar of Skulles on ye middel hille of ye

islande. Where ye line strykes ye bigge knicke in ye walle withe ye

talle palmme tree bee three hoales. Climbe ye stones. Enter ye centre

one. Yt. is there. Lette him that wille seek and finde. Here bee two

of ye littel goddes I picked uppe and fetched awaye. Ye others are

lyke onlie muche larger.

[Illustration]

I spelt out the letters slowly, deciphering the quaint, faint writing

with difficulty. Mistress Lucy drew near to me, bending over the

parchment closely, following my efforts, indeed anticipating them with

her quicker eye. Her presence was a distraction to me, yet I was so

glad to have her near me that I wished the parchment letter as long as

this story I am writing bids fair to be. Well, we finished it at last.

Then I turned to the table in the center of the room where I had left

the image. I stooped over it, picked it up and brought it to the light.

It was a head, with the neck and the top of the shoulders showing,

mounted on a pedestal roughly cut in imitation masonry. It was made of

some hard pinkish stone like granite. There was no skill or nicety in

its carving; it was rough and rude, inexpressibly so, and the marks of

the chisel, or whatever the tool with which it had been carved, were

quite apparent here and there; and yet years of exposure to wind and

weather had smoothed it off in part. The evil face was long and the dog

teeth fell over the protruding lip in a peculiarly brutal and ferocious

way. There was sort of a crown on the head, the eyes were sightless,

and the whole expression was revolting and beastly.

What kind of people made and what kind of people worshiped such a god

I wondered. I was not surprised that my little mistress had hid it

away, nor that the one that came down through Sir Geoffrey’s line had

been lost. If I had possessed it, I would have destroyed it long since.

It fairly radiated evil, and the contrast between my lady’s face,

all sweetness, purity, and light and this hideous image was the more

marked. She has since confessed that she drew the same contrast between

it and what she was pleased to call my brave and honest countenance!

But of that more anon. We stared from the image to the parchment and

then looked wonderingly at each other.

There was much in the letter, of course, that we could not possibly

understand. We could only comprehend it fully if we were lucky enough

to stand beneath “ye Stone Goddes,” of which I held a sample in my

hand, on the island itself. Still the general purport was sufficiently

clear. Sir Philip Wilberforce had evidently concealed a very

considerable treasure there. If we could find it our fortunes would be

made, or hers rather, for I swear I never thought of myself at all.

“Think you,” my little mistress began at last, her pale face flushing

for the first time, her bosom heaving quickly, “that the treasure may

still be there watched over by those awful gods?”

She glanced at the image I still held in my hand as she spoke.

“Who can tell?” I answered. “I am probably as familiar with the South

Seas and their islands as any sailor; which is not saying a very great

deal, for there are thousands of islands in those unknown seas which

have never been visited by man, by white men, that is, or by any race

which preserves records. I have never heard even a rumor of the Island

of the Stairs, yet it would seem to be sufficiently different from all

other islands to have been published abroad if it had been discovered.

Its latitude and longitude place it in unfrequented seas among others

peopled by races of savage cannibals. I think it not at all unlikely

that it may have remained unvisited by any who would appreciate the

value of the treasure since Sir Philip’s day.”

“But would such treasure last so long?”

“Stored in a cave, gold and silver and jewels would last forever.

Everything else would have rotted away probably.”

“It says to the value of millions of pounds, you notice,” she repeated

thoughtfully, pointing to the parchment again.

“Aye,” I answered, “there is nothing unusual or unbelievable in that;

the cargoes of those old Spanish galleons ran up into the millions

often, I have read.”

“How could we get there?” she asked.

“If you had a ship,” said I, “well commanded and found and manned you

could reach the spot without difficulty.”

“How much would it cost?”

Well, I quickly and roughly estimated in my mind the necessary outlay.

Such a vessel as she would require might be bought for perhaps

twenty-five hundred or three thousand pounds; provisioning, outfitting,

together with the pay of the officers and the crew, would require

perhaps from fifteen hundred to two thousand five hundred pounds more,

or a total of between five and six thousand pounds. And she had but two!

I was about to tell her the prohibitive truth when the solution of

the problem suddenly came to me. In one way or another I had been a

fortunate voyager and I had saved up or earned by trading and one or

two adventures in which I had taken part, something over four thousand

pounds, which was safely lodged to my credit in a London bank. Her

fortune was two thousand pounds. Alone she could do nothing, together

we could accomplish it. I had no right to put the suggestion in her

mind, but I did it.

“I should think,” I said slowly, “that two thousand pounds would be

ample to cover everything.”

“Ah,” she said triumphantly, “exactly the sum that Master Ficklin said

was left of my mother’s fortune.”

“Yes,” said I, and then I added in duty bound, “but you surely would

not be so foolish, Mistress Wilberforce, as to risk your all in this

wild goose chase?”

“If you were in my position, Master Hampdon, what would you do?” she

asked pointedly.

“I am a man,” I answered, “accustomed to shift for myself. I might take

a risk which I would not advise you to essay.”

“I must shift for myself, too,” she said, her eyes sparkling. The

Goddess Fortune which had ruined her father was evidently jogging her

elbow. “Indeed, I shall take the chance,” she persisted. “I am resolved

upon it.”

“But you could easily live on two thousand pounds for a long while,” I

urged, against my wish, for I was keen to go treasure hunting with her

for a shipmate.

“Not such life as I crave. If I cannot have enough for my desires I

would be no worse off had I nothing.”

“But it is a long chance,” I persisted, “upon which to risk your all.”

“Master Hampdon,” she said solemnly, “the fact of the separation of

those two pieces of parchment for a century and a half, and the fact

that they come together in me, one half received from each of the dead

who in neither case knew of the existence of the other half, the fact

that I am Sir Philip Wilberforce’s last descendant through both the

original heirs--see you not something providential in all this?”

“A strange coincidence,” I admitted.

“More than that,” she protested.

Well, I was arguing against my wishes and from a sense of duty, so I

at last gave way. After all, the treasure might be there. If so, it

was hers and it would be a shame not to get it. The pulse of adventure

leaped in my veins.

“So be it,” I said.

“Will you help me to make my arrangements, you are accustomed to the

sea, and--”

“I will do more than that,” said I, “with your gracious permission I

will go with you.”

“To the island?”

“To the end of the world,” I replied, whereat she stared at me a

moment, then looked away.

She extended her hand to me and I tried to kiss it like a gentleman.

I made, no doubt, a blundering effort, but at least it was that of an

honest man.

“I must go and get ready to go to Master Ficklin’s in the town,” she

said softly. “You know the house.”

I nodded.

“Come to me there tomorrow and we will talk further about the project.”

“Can I be of any other service?”

“Not now,” she answered, “you have been of great service already. I

shall not forget it.”

And so I turned and walked out of the hall, leaving her standing there

for the last time, at least so we thought, the last little descendant

of a brave race. But you never can tell what the future will bring

forth. I little dreamed that she and I were to stand there again some

day under quite different circumstances. It is a good thing for me that

I did not dream that dream then. It would have turned my head if I had.

CHAPTER V

WHEREIN THE DUKE IS MARKED IN FAREWELL

When we broached the subject of our treasure hunting expedition to

Master Ficklin the next day at his house, he would not hear of it. He

examined the parchment with interest, but pooh-poohed the tale because,

forsooth, it had no legal standing and was couched in the language of

the sea rather than in the dry verbiage of the law. He pointed out

that he had only succeeded in saving this last two thousand pounds of

my lady’s fortune because he had skillfully concealed its existence

from Sir Geoffrey, foreseeing that all that he could come at would be

recklessly flung away in the baronet’s mad battle with fortune. He

felt, he admitted to us, some compunctions of conscience about having

hidden this little remainder from his friend and patron, and then he

pleaded artfully that as he had gone against his sense of right for the

sake of preserving this money, his wishes as to the spending of it

ought to be respected, especially when they concerned so intimately the

welfare of my lady; for, he asked pertinently, what would happen to her

when all was gone and she had found no treasure, the very existence of

which he affected to disbelieve?

A very hard-headed, practical person was Master Ficklin. He was not

cut out for an adventurer, that was patent. Still his statements and

propositions were entitled to the highest consideration. His arguments,

indeed, appealed to my better judgment and I seconded them to the best

of my ability in spite of my own desires. I was born with a roving

spirit, and in my own blood ran something of the gambling strain, and

the longer I dwelt upon possible treasure the more alluring grew the

prospect of searching for it, and the more certain I became that it was

there. It is so easy to persuade ourselves of what we wish.

Besides, even if there were no treasure, I luxuriated in spirit at

the thought of the long months’ intimate companionship at sea with my

Little Mistress. It is true she already honored me with her friendship,

but in no other way could I hope to enjoy much of her society in the

future. She was too young and too beautiful for obscurity. Sooner or

later true men would love her, the gay world would seek her out, she

would enter upon her proper station again, and then where would I be?

Selfish! Aye, but I am frankly telling the truth in these rambling

recollections, even to my own discredit, though my lady will not have

it so.

But I had stern ideas of duty, too, and Master Ficklin’s good sense

ever appealed to me. Yet when did mere good sense serve to persuade a

woman against her wish? My lady would fain challenge fortune on her own

account. She was of age and what she had left was absolutely in her

control, but had she been but sixteen I make no doubt she would have

had her way. She has ever had that way and ever will have it, so far as

I am concerned. Worthy Master Ficklin has gone to his well-earned rest

these many years as I write, but I am quite warranted, I am sure, in

saying the same thing for him.

Well, the end of it was she made over her two thousand pounds to me

without requiring me to give any bond, which Master Ficklin would fain

have insisted upon. This would have been embarrassing indeed for me for

my bond would have been my own capital which I was going to embark in

the enterprise in secret. I had saved up that money with no one knows

what foolish dreams. I now realized these dreams possibly would come to

nought. Well, what difference? I had no one dependent upon me, brother

or sister I had never been blessed with, and father and mother were

both dead long since. I was alone in the world. What need had I for the

money?

I could always get a berth on a good ship as mate, or perhaps as

master, for which I was fully qualified; and I could always earn enough

for my needs and to spare. Let her have it whose need was great and

whose desire was greater.

I might have bargained for a share of the treasure did we find any, but

I scorned to do it. I would fain give all and expect nothing. There

was a certain salve to my pride in becoming a benefactor to the woman

I--But I must not anticipate in my story, trouble came soon enough, as

you shall see.

At any rate, not being in too great a hurry, although I was constantly

urged to action by my lady, who could scarce possess her soul in

patience before she began her treasure hunting once she was resolved

upon it, I looked about a good deal in order to get just what I wanted.

Finally from a merchant of Plymouth I purchased a stout little ship of

three hundred and fifty tons burden called _The Rose of Devon_, which

had been engaged in the West Indian and the American colonial trade.

The name caught my fancy, too, for was not my Little Mistress the Rose

of Devon herself? You that read may laugh at me for my posying thought

if you will; I care not, for it is true.

It was my first design to have gone as master of her myself and my

lady would fain have had it so, but after reflection I decided it

were better to have a much older man than I to command so long as she

went as passenger, so I engaged a worthy seaman, one Samuel Matthews,

old enough to be my father, with whom I had often sailed, in fact the

man under whom I made my first cruise. I did engage myself as mate,

however, and I even tried to induce Master Ficklin and his sister to

go with us, whereat that worthy couple held up their hands in horror,

preferring the one his musty parchments and suits at law, and the other

her well ordered house and spacious garden. I was not sorry for their

decision. I wanted to be alone on that ship with Mistress Wilberforce,

with what vague idea or aspiration I dared not admit even to myself.

It seemed proper, in venturing among islands filled according to common

report with savage peoples, to make ready for fighting; therefore,

after consulting with Captain Matthews, whom I fully acquainted with

the entire project in all its details, I shipped a crew of thirty

men and I provided in the equipment plenty of muskets, pistols, and

cutlasses with the necessary powder and ball and, in addition, a small

brass cannon which I mounted on the forecastle. Nor did our cargo lack

means for friendly trading and barter among the natives should such be

found practicable.

Naturally, the unusualness of these preparations attracted some little

attention and although Captain Matthews and I kept the destination

of the ship and the purpose of the cruise strictly private, we were

overwhelmed with applications from adventurous men who desired to make

the voyage, surmising that it was after treasure of some sort and that

it would be vastly different from the monotony of an ordinary merchant

trading cruise. Clearance papers were got out for the South Seas, which

added the touch of romance that those waters always have, for an appeal.

Being so engaged with these larger matters, perforce I left the work of

signing on a crew to Captain Matthews. He had as boatswain a veteran

seaman named Pimball in whom he placed great confidence. He was a

villainous looking man with a white scar running from his left eye

across his cheek, caused by a cut he had received in some fight, and

the line of white showing against the bronzed, weather-beaten cheek he

sported, did not improve his appearance. But that he was a prime seaman

was evident. Captain Matthews reposed much trust in him, somewhat to

my surprise, for I was not prepossessed by his appearance, but the

contrary. In answer to my objections he pointed out that many a man’s

looks belied his character, and although Pimball was certainly ugly,

he was undoubtedly able. He had cruised several voyages with Captain

Matthews and had always shown himself both experienced and dependable,

so I let it go and he and Pimball selected the rest of the crew. It had

been better for us in the end if I had got rid of the man as I wished.

Or would it? Well, it would certainly have been better for Master

Pimball and his friends.

To anticipate, when we boarded the ship I liked the crew not much

better than the boatswain. I will say this for them, however, that a

smarter, quicker set of seamen never hauled on brace or lay out on

yardarm. It was not their skill or strength or courage that I misliked,

no man could fault that, but they were not the sort of men I would have

sought for a ship of my own; and the presence of my lady and her maid,

a worthy woman, a long time servant at the castle, who had elected to

follow her fortunes, perhaps made me unduly timorous; yet I was not

unusually or extremely apprehensive. I had a sublime confidence in my

own ability to deal with any man or any group of men. I had no doubt

that Captain Matthews and I would be able to master them and bend

their wills to ours at the cost of a few hard words backed by a ready

rope’s end or a well-used marlinspike or belaying pin.

I did not stint the outfitting of the ship, and when I finished, having

left nothing out of her manifest that either mine own or Captain

Matthew’s experience or imagination could suggest, including everything

conceivable for the comfort of my lady, there remained of our joint

funds enough to pay the wages of the officers and of the men out and

back and no more. That is allowing a year for the round voyage. The

lines of _The Rose of Devon_ were unusually good; she had a reputation

for being a speedy vessel, and that was more time than enough. It was

my purpose to go on around the world with her rather than retrace our

course about Cape Horn after we reached the island, if we ever reached

it. So we staked everything we had on the future. If my lady had

possessed the least knowledge of the value of ships, she would have

seen how little way her two thousand pounds had gone, but she was as

guileless as any other woman on that subject, and Master Ficklin was

not much better. I lied to them both, although with a somewhat uneasy

conscience. Yet it was for her sake. My family had followed hers for I

know not how many centuries. They had spent themselves for hers. I was

only keeping up the traditions in placing all that I had at her service.

But one thing which happened before we embarked occurs to me as worthy

to be chronicled. When all was ready and everything aboard, I went back

to Master Ficklin’s in Tavistock, which was an easy day’s journey from

Plymouth Sound, where _The Rose of Devon_ lay, to fetch my lady and her

maid. Master Ficklin’s house was a somewhat large one for an attorney

and was surrounded by a walled garden, perhaps two acres in extent,

which ran from the back of the house to a little brook which bounded

the village. There were a number of fine old trees in it and much

shrubbery and it was a pleasant place in which Mistress Wilberforce and

I had spent some, to me, very delightful hours in perfecting the plans

for our great undertaking.

Master Ficklin was at his office, although it was yet early in the

morning when I called, intending to fetch my lady to Plymouth by

coach, a special coach which I had engaged for her particular use, by

the way. His sister said that Mistress Wilberforce was in the garden

and that she had company. She offered to show me to her presence, but

I said I knew the way and could go myself. I did not like the word

company over much. Her fine friends had more or less forgot her. One or

two of the old families which had been associated with hers had offered

her such hospitality and such comfort as they had, until she could

decide otherwise; some of the women had called upon her, one or two

men had sought her out, but she was a proud little woman, as you can

divine, and would have none of them. She had dropped out of their lives

and latterly no one had disturbed her, therefore I was perturbed at the

tidings.

I passed though the hall, out of the back door and into the garden.

The path to the brook wound and twisted so that you could not see

the stream for the trees and shrubs. I stood a moment, hesitating,

wondering whether after all I had the right or the privilege to break

in upon such company as she might be entertaining, when a scream which

came faintly from the end of the garden, decided me.

I broke into a run and in a few moments came upon my lady struggling

in the arms of a man. What man, do you ask? None other than his grace,

the Duke of Arcester! He had his arms around her and although he was no

great figure of a man, he was much stronger than the slight girl he was

grappling so roughly. He held her tightly by the waist with one arm and

with the other was trying to turn her head so that he could kiss her

fairly on her lips.

I was upon them before either realized my arrival. In my fury I grasped

the duke by the collar of his coat with my left hand and with my right

I ruthlessly tore him away from my lady.

“Thank God, you have come!” she cried, reeling and staggering, her face

flushed, her hair disheveled, her dress in disarray.

I heard that much and then the duke was upon me. Gritting his teeth

and swearing frightful oaths, he got to his feet--I had thrown him

prone--dragged out his sword and rushed at me.

“You dog!” he cried, “you have balked me before and you interfere now.

I have had enough of you, and the world has.”

He did not intend to give me any chance to defend myself apparently.

My little mistress screamed. I heard her call my name and I suppose

she thought I was done for, but sailors are proverbially quick-witted,

footed, and handed, and I was not the least alert of seamen for all my

size. I was wearing a hanger, a much heavier and more unwieldly weapon

than the duke’s dress sword, but its weight was a matter of no moment

to an arm like mine. I sprang aside as he lunged furiously at me, drew

it, and the next moment our blades clashed in earnest. For myself, I

rejoiced in the opportunity. Some men of humble birth might have been

disturbed at the thought of crossing swords with a great noble, but

nothing of that occurred to me. I wanted to show my lady, I confess,

that even with gentlemen’s weapons I was this man’s master. And so I

fell to it eagerly.

Now I am a good fighter and no mean fencer. I can cross blades with

anyone on earth. I did not know all the niceties and refinements of

the game. I lacked grace perhaps--but when it came to attack and

defense, there were few men who could beat me--certainly the duke was

not one of them. My swift play must have looked to the duke as if I

were surrounded by a wall of steel. Therefore, he realized at once that

his only chance lay in the energy and rapidity of his fence. He was as

passionately incensed as I, if from a different cause. Lunge succeeded

lunge with lightning-like speed. I will admit that I was hard put to it

for a time. The play of light on his blade fairly dazzled me. It was

with the greatest difficulty that I parried. But my lord was not built

for the long continuance of such violent exercise. Sweat ran into his

eyes, his thrusts grew less swift, less sure, if not less vicious in

their intent. I could feel his growing weakness with my blade. After

a few moments I saw that I had him. It was now my turn to attack.

Something of the berserk madness of my Saxon ancestors suddenly filled

my veins. I beat down his defense by a series of terrific blows and

finally shivered his sword. He stood before me panting, weaponless, yet

to give him his due, more or less undaunted. I raised my own blade.

“Would you strike a defenseless man, cur?” he cried haughtily, still

not blenching.

“You had no scruple in attacking a defenseless woman,” I replied.

“Nay,” I thundered as he made a sudden movement, “stand where you are.

What I shall do to you depends upon what I hear. If you move I swear to

you that I will beat you down like the villain that you are.”

I was amazed afterward at my temerity in thus addressing a duke, but

you will understand my feelings. Without taking my eyes off of him, I

next addressed myself to my lady, who had shrunk aside and watched us

breathlessly.

“Will you tell me now, Mistress Lucy,” said I softly, “what this man

proposed or said? I can see what he did, but what were his meaning and

intent?”

“He--he--wanted--me to go with him,” faltered my lady.

“He renewed his offer of marriage?” I asked with a sudden sinking of

heart.

I had a good deal of reverence for the nobility except in the heat of

battle, and even as bad a man as Arcester was nevertheless a duke and

a great personage. That should mean something to a woman. Perhaps my

lady might wish to marry him after all!

“No,” whispered the girl, and at her answer my blood burned for her.

“My God!” I cried, “did you dare to--”

“Why should I marry a penniless baggage?” he sneered. It was a reckless

thing to do, seeing his helpless position. “She would not go with me,

she refused even to take my hand, the little fool, so I seized her. Was

it because she preferred you, yokel?” he added.

“For whatever reason she refused the proffered honor, she has had a

lucky escape.”

“Perhaps so, clodhopper, for I should have discarded and forgot her

when her prettiness had faded, but you--”

“I shall ensure that you will remember all the days of your life what

you tried to do; the insult that you put upon this lady,” I said

quietly, although I was blazing inside.

“Would you kill me?” he cried, and I believe I detected a note of alarm

in his voice for the first time, as I stepped nearer to him.

“No,” said I, “that would be too quick and easy an end to your

punishment. I will put my mark upon you, her brand as a blackguard.

Everybody who sees you will ask you about it and you can explain it as

you will. Two persons at least will know what the mark signifies, my

lady and myself.”

He stared at me absolutely uncomprehending, but before he could make a

move I caught him around the breast, pinioned both his arms to his side

with one arm and then I deliberately shortened my sword, holding it by

the blade, and cut two long, deeply scored, rough gashes crosswise in

his right cheek. He struggled and shrieked horribly as I did so and my

lady screamed as well, but I held him close until I finished. He was a

handsome man, but those two scars, roughly crisscrossed, would never be

eradicated, for I had cut deep with deliberate purpose.

“Now,” said I to my little mistress, “before I release him one more

question. Did he--did he kiss you?”

“No,” answered Mistress Wilberforce faintly.

“Good,” I continued grimly, “had he done so I had marked the other

cheek.”

After that assurance of hers I released him and he staggered back,

trembling and shaking, spitting blood, his cheek bleeding, a horrible

looking object.

“That will be a lesson to your grace,” said I grimly, “not to insult an

honest woman. I have no doubt there are many who would rejoice to see

you now and to know why I have put my mark upon you.”

“I will have the law on you. I will have your life,” he sputtered out.

“You can have anything you want,” said I recklessly. “I am your master

with the sword, and your master with everything else. Now go.”

He turned and staggered away and that was the last I saw of him. I

heard later that he had had the devil’s own time explaining those

marks. He proclaimed that they had been inflicted by a madman, which

was nearly the truth, but in some way the story leaked out and I should

judge that my vengeance for the insult to my lady was as adequate as

anything could be. He never lived down the tale, and I take it he was

glad when he received a mortal wound in a duel from the hand of some

other avenger of a woman’s wrong some years later.

“Master Hampdon,” whispered Mistress Lucy, in an awe-struck voice,

as we went together through the garden, while I wiped my sword with

leaves, “why did you do that? ’Twas horrible.”

“Why, mistress,” said I, striving to speak formally, “when I saw you in

his arms I could have killed him.”

“But to mark him thus forever--” she began.

“Enough,” said I, with one of those flashes of imperiousness which

always amazed me afterward and which really seemed to affect her

strangely, “he only got his deserts.”

“But he will take his revenge on you,” she persisted.

“Let him try,” said I indifferently. “But I am come to take you to the

ship. We must get there tonight to sail with the beginning of the ebb

tomorrow morning.”

“I am ready,” she said, putting her hand upon my arm with unwonted

humility.

We went into the house and from there to the coach with her maid and

her baggage, after making her farewells to her kind host and hostess.

In the evening we got aboard the ship where I saw her safely bestowed

in the comfortable cabin I had arranged for her and for her woman. When

day broke and she came on deck, we were under way for the Island of the

Stairs. The great adventure had begun.

BOOK II

ABOARD SHIP IN THE SOUTH SEAS

_The Murderous Mutineers and the Woman_

CHAPTER VI

IN WHICH I AM PUNISHED FOR MY PRESUMPTION

I pass over the events of the next six months without comment, but

not because they were uninteresting. Oh, no. One could not sail

from Plymouth, England, to the South Seas, touching at Madeira, the

Canaries, Rio and Buenos Ayres and rounding the mighty and fearsome

Cape Horn, without seeing many things of interest and participating in

scenes as dangerous as they were exciting. But I am not writing a book

of travels, though perchance I may some day endeavor to set forth for

your delectation some of my far voyagings in unknown seas. Suffice it

to say that we passed safely from the much traversed Atlantic to the

lonely Pacific, and were drawing near to the island we sought according

to the calculations of good Captain Matthews and myself, when something

happened.

I had brought it on myself, I realized, but that made it no more

bearable. Indeed, I was mad, mad all through; outraged in dignity,

humiliated in self-respect, and were it not foolish to speak so of

a man of my years and standing, I should say I was broken in heart.

I suppose that I should feel the wound to my affections more than

that to my pride later, but at that present moment feelings of

indignation predominated. I had been a fool, of course, and I should

have expected nothing else; equally, of course, perhaps I should even

have anticipated this, and probably if I had been in my right senses

on that day I would have known it. But then you see, I was not in

my right senses, and that was the secret of my disgrace. And that

it all happened after half a year of the friendliest, most pleasant

intercourse between a man and a maid only intensified the bitterness of

the situation.

My little mistress had been so kind to me that I had dwelt in a fool’s

paradise. I awoke to realize that she had not forgot the difference

between our stations. She had been born in the castle, I in the

gardener’s lodge; she was of the great house, I was of the cottage. I

had forgot it in these long months at sea--by heaven, the sight of

her was enough to make a man forget anything if he loved her as I!

There, the secret is out, though I make no doubt you guessed it long

before--but it seems she had not. There was no mirror in the cabin,

but I could well guess that the sight of me was not sufficiently

prepossessing to make any woman forget our respective merits and

stations.

In birth, in breeding, in education, in everything, she stood

immeasurably removed from me; so far removed that association on any

terms scarcely seemed possible. Yet she had been so kind. I was her

only confidant or companion in the ship. I had forgot all that lay

between, or else, remembering, I had yet endeavored to leap the gap.

I had fondly hoped that the one thing in me that was truly great, my

passion for her, would land me safely by her side. I did not see how

she could fail to comprehend it, though I did try to disguise it.

Well, that love of mine--it had not brought her nearer. On the contrary

it had put me under lock and key! And here I was, shut up like a

criminal in my own cabin in her ship, or mine for that matter. Come to

think of it, that moment I believe love had completely disappeared. I

could recall--and can to this day--the fierce, burning rush of color to

her cheek where I had kissed it; the fire of rage and surprise mingled

which sparkled in her eyes. The Duke of Arcester I had marked for life

for less than this, I recalled in shame.

I hardly recollected the fierce blow of her hand upon my face. That was

nothing. I had laughed at it as she had recoiled from me when I had

released her--actually laughed! I was not laughing at her, God knows,

but at her impotence physically compared to my strength. She was a

small slender little body, I could have carried her easily with my one

hand--and I have often done so since--yet she struck hard when she did

strike.

As I recalled it, I suppose that laugh was my undoing. Perhaps she

thought I laughed at her. Well, what mattered it? Whatever the cause, I

was undone. All the patient devotion of years, all the restraint of the

long voyage had come to naught.

There had been plenty of bright starlight on deck. She had stepped

out from the dark shadow of the spencer and I had followed hard on her

heels. The first night watch had not yet been called and the men idle

about the decks, waiting the boatswain’s shrill whistle, had noted it

all. I can see their sneering, laughing faces even now. God! I could

bear anything from her but nothing from them, and but for the sorry

figure I must have cut in a low brawl with the ruffians, I would have

leaped upon them and fought them until they killed me.

As it was, I drew myself up and waited while she sent for good old

Captain Matthews and, vouchsafing no explanations, imperiously bade

him stow me below as a prisoner in my cabin. He didn’t relish the job

but went about it forthwith. Indeed, I did not wait for further orders

after her look and glance. I stalked below as haughtily as you please.

It was her ship, as she had said and as she certainly believed, and

had it not been, who could deny her anything? Not I, forsooth. I could

steal a kiss but not balk her will.

So here I was, the mate of _The Rose of Devon_--and but for my own

renunciation I had been her captain--engaged in this wild goose chase,

this foolish search for treasure, for so it seemed to me then, locked

up below like any mutinous dog at the behest of a woman that I could

have broke between my thumb and finger. And after all I had done and

sacrificed for her, too.

The hot blood came into my cheeks again. I remember I raised my arm and

shook it toward the door and then let it fall. What was the use? I was

her prisoner. I loved her, fool that I was. I thought then and I think

now I had rather be her prisoner than be free and away from her, than

be free and know her not. No lovesick boy could have been more foolish

than I about her--and, in your ear, I am so yet.

Come to think of it, I had always loved her, ever since those days when

I, the gardener’s boy, had been her faithful and devoted slave. And

through the long years when I had been far voyaging in distant seas I

had kept her memory fresh and sweet and true. I had been in many rough

places, I had seen life from the seamy side, the common lot of a sailor

of my day had been mine. I was not what you would call a religious

man; no, not nearly religious enough, but the thought of her and my

mother had kept me a clean man. In that respect, at least, I was worthy

of her; doubtless, I dare say, more worthy of her than Arcester and

Luftdon and all the young gallants who had paid court to her before her

father lost his all and had blown out his brains, leaving her but the

parchment and enough gear with my aid to charter and equip the ship.

Such as it was, my heart was hers, and my life had always been. As

often as I could I had come back to the old cottage where I was born

and for old time’s sake she had been kind to me. I had craved even

her condescension, although it made me mad to see her surrounded by

the other men and women, so that I would fling myself away and take

the first ship that offered to the farthest port. Yet, I always came

back--to her.

And I had been so glad that I was there when Sir Geoffrey had killed

himself and that I had bought the ship and fitted it out and had been

able to do so much for her. As I said, she would fain have given me

command of the saucy little _Rose of Devon_ had I willed it--and

sometimes, now for instance, I cursed myself that I had not taken it

rather than insisted that she should have an older man, not a better

seaman, than I. There are no better seamen in narrow seas or broad than

I, if I do say it myself, who should not.

I had worked my way up through the forecastle to the quarter-deck. I

had a natural gift for figures. I could take a sight and work out a

position as well as any book-taught navigator, and I had been a great

reader, too. My private cabin was crowded with books. A goodly portion

of my earnings was ever spent that way. I had wit enough to choose good

books, too, and perseverance enough to study them well. And they stared

at me then from shelves built in the bulkhead. What fond dreams I had

indulged in while I had pored over them, turning their thin pages with

my tarred, blunt fingers! I walked over to them that night and struck

them with my fist in impotent rage. What was the use of it? The stain

of tar was on me forever in her eyes.

And yet I knew more than she. Oh, much more about everything but the

usages of good society, and I had at least learned something of good

manners in her company since her father’s death. Many a time I have

caught her tripping as to facts of knowledge, not daring, not even

caring to tell her; or, perhaps I had better say, not wishful to

humiliate her by showing her that she was wrong, content to know that

much myself, and hugging my poor little superiority to my heart. I knew

more than she and more than most of the men with whom she associated.

My shipmates used to laugh at me for being a book delver, a worm, they

were wont to call me. Well, they didn’t laugh very long. There was

nothing physical for which I need stand aside for any man. I was over

six feet high and built in proportion. I could unaided, and alone, hold

the wheel of the best ship in the fiercest storm. I had matched myself

against man and against storm, not once but many times, and neither the

one nor the other had ever made me back down.

Now I was a prisoner. I said I didn’t feel that blow on the cheek, but

as I thought on it, it fairly seared me. I hated her, I hoped that--no,

I might as well be honest with myself--I didn’t care how she treated

me, how disdainful were her words, how unjustly she punished me, I

loved her. I couldn’t help it, I didn’t want to help it. I would fain

kiss the deck planks she hallowed with her footsteps.

There was another side to my confinement and I presently took thought

on that. I swear that I was not thinking of myself but of her. I was

ever thinking of her. I could see dangers that beset her as perhaps

no one else could, and my confinement added to her peril. She didn’t

realize that; nobody aft on the ship realized it. I did not see any

present way to make her understand the situation. I had not cared to

alarm her before, and any attempt on my part to set it forth now would

be looked upon as a personal plea, and yet there was a peril, imminent,

menacing, about to break, I feared.

You see, the fact that we were treasure hunting had got about. Who told

it I could not discover, but the unusualness of our proceedings, the

arming of a peaceful merchant ship, the indefiniteness of the articles,

the clearing from Plymouth for the South Seas, the absence of any great

amount of cargo, and the high wages promised had aroused suspicions. I

had not thought much about the crew, except of Pimball. We had shipped

a lot of smart seamen; about the average in quality and above the

average in smartness, I decided as the days had passed with nothing

happening; but times were good and ships were plenty, and we had sailed

rather late in the season, and Pimball had signed many I could wish had

been left ashore.

Her presence on the ship, too, was a mystery. Alone in the little _Rose

of Devon_ with thirty men! By evil mishap the maid she had brought with

her had died after a brief illness two weeks out. Captain Matthews and

I were for turning back, but she said no, she would go on. We had lost

too much time already and her all was embarked. We were now plowing the

blue waters of the Pacific and I, mate of the ship, and the only other

officer to be trusted, locked up! Pimball, the boatswain, seemed to me

to be the least trustworthy of the lot. I had not got over my initial

dislike for him at all!

We were nearing the latitude and longitude of the island. Suppose

the men rose in mutiny! I ground my teeth in rage at the thought.

The men liked me well enough, and I had been particular to keep them

in good humor, passing over many a thing for her sake that I would

have followed with a blow had she not been there. Captain Matthews

had complained once or twice of my laxity, but I knew things that he

didn’t, and I had done what I deemed best for her. I pledge you my word

that I didn’t care a farthing for the treasure. I had never given it

much thought. I grew to believe in it less and less as we got further

from home, and if I had been stronger for my duty and weaker in my love

I would have dissuaded her from the voyage, following Master Ficklin’s

lead.

Now that she was poor and alone, neglected and forgotten, I had

enjoyed a foolish dream that I could be a companion to her--a life

shipmate!--for the captain was a rough, plain old sailor. What a fool I

was! and yet it had worked in some way as I had intended. We had been

thrown into closer intimacy by the loneliness of her position, and by

my faithful and, until that night, most unobtrusive, self-effacing

devotion. I was thinking too much of her to give my attention to any

other kind of treasure anyway, and I’d rather have had her than all

the golden argosies that plowed the seas.

I supposed it never entered her head that I could presume to love her,

consequently she was less careful than she had been otherwise, and that

very night when I had poured out my declaration to her, she had found

no words with which to meet it. I thought her motionless silence was

consent. I see now that it was petrified amazement. I seized her in

my arms, like the brute she must have thought me, lifted her up and

kissed her fair on the lips and then on her averted cheek. Arcester,

the blackguard, could have done no worse. I will never forget how she

stigmatized me, brute, coward, lowborn. I don’t believe she had railed

at that scoundrel duke so fiercely. Well, I didn’t care what she called

me. Her safety, her life, her honor demanded that I be released. That

was the paramount concern.

I listened--I thought I heard a footfall in the outer cabin. Could she

be there? I suppose that I had been locked up for perhaps an hour,

aye, on the instant the bell forward struck three. We kept man-o’-war

customs at her fancy. The sound came to me faintly as I listened. Half

past nine. She could not have gone to her berth yet. She must be there

in the great cabin. I ventured to call.

Any man can imagine what it cost me to humble myself to ask her mercy.

Stop, I ought to apologize. No gentleman--I do not mean the dandies

that made love to her--but no real gentleman such as I, in spite of my

low birth and rough breeding, hoped I might prove myself to be, would

have taken advantage of her as I did. Yes, an apology was certainly

owing from me. Even had it not been I should have been compelled to

make it for her sake.

I am a man of fierce temper, as you have deemed and as you shall see,

if you go with us further in this history, but I can control it on

occasion, and I did it now. I shook the door of the cabin gently at

first and then vigorously and called once and again. There was no

answer. I beat upon it. I raised my voice. I scarcely thought I could

be heard on deck. The wind was blowing, the sea was heavy and the ship

was pitching wildly, the straining, the creaking, the groaning of the

timbers would have prevented such a noise as I made from attracting

attention unless someone were in the cabin.

But all in vain. No heed was paid to me and yet I could swear that

somebody was there. I don’t know how exactly, but I was conscious of

her presence. Perhaps because I was so in love with her that I could

always tell whether she was about. I can to this day. Many a time in

after years she has stepped into the room where I have been sitting,

without a sound, and has come to me and laid her hand on my shoulder,

but I have had knowledge before she touched me that she was there.

It made me madder than before to go thus unheeded. I was on the point

of giving over my endeavor, but the thought of that peril in which she

stood, and the fact that I was removed from the deck and a prisoner,

made me resolve on one more effort. She must be made to hear, and if to

hear, to answer.

“Madam,” I whispered softly, and then more loudly, “Madam!”

I did not venture to say any other name. I called again and yet a

fourth time and then for the last time with the full power of my

voice. I heard a movement outside and then a voice, beloved, blessed

voice even when it rated me!

“Well, sir.”

The words came to me through the partition. She was there then, as I

had divined. She had been there all the time, trying me.

“I would fain have a word with you,” I answered, putting everything

else by and speaking most entreatingly and with a humility I did not

altogether feel.

“I desire no speech with you,” was her cold and measured answer.

I could hear her turn as if to move away. She had come very softly, but

she went loudly as if to show me her intention.

“Think of my long and faithful service,” I urged, “and of your gracious

friendship for me, often expressed.”

“You yourself forgot it tonight.”

“For God’s sake,” I cried desperately as I heard her go, “just one

word.”

“An apology? Do you beg for forgiveness?”

“No--yes--anything,” I finished in confusion.

“I will not listen. I wish to convince you of the enormity of what you

have done, the grossness of your presumption. I will give you time for

quiet reflection, sir.”

“I am convinced already,” I urged hurriedly.

“So easily,” she mocked.

“Madam, if you love life and honor, I pray you hear me. It is not of

myself I think but of you. You are in grave peril,” returned I with the

utmost seriousness.

“What peril?”

There was a note of alarm in her voice in spite of her effort to be

indifferent. I seized upon its promise eagerly.

“The men of the ship, they are not what they should be. Captain

Matthews is alone. Pimball is a villain. I trust no one but--”

“And is that the plea on which you seek your freedom?”

“That is the only plea.”

“You did not discover this danger until I locked you up, did you?”

She laughed mockingly, but there was music in her voice for me, albeit

her words were harsh and unjust.

“I tell you that it is not for myself I fear, but for you,” I

persisted.

“And was it for that you insulted me on the quarter-deck before the men

and--”

“No,” said I savagely. “By heavens, I did that for myself.”

“Arcester could have done no worse,” she said cuttingly.

“Curse Arcester!” I burst out, the mention of the man’s name always

inflaming me, “he would have made you his--”

“Silence!” cried the woman. “I will hear no more. It is a foolish plea,

the men are devoted to me and--”

“For God’s sake, Mistress Wilberforce,” I cried, but this time she was

gone.

I heard the door of her cabin shut violently. There was no help for it.

Well, I must devise some way unaided. For I must get out for her sake.

The cabin was lighted by an air port closed by a deadlight. I measured

it, drew back the thick glass and examined the opening, although I knew

it was a futile proposition. A slender boy might have slipped through

but not a man such as I. My mighty thews and sinews and great bulk

required a door and no small one, either.

The wind had increased, it was blowing hard outside and some spray came

in through the port as the waves slapped the side of the ship. I closed

and secured it; there was nothing to be gained there. I must seek some

other way.

I was not weaponless. Nobody had thought to search my cabin, and a

brace of pistols which I always kept loaded and ready for an emergency

were locked securely in my chest. My hanger, none of your dandified

French rapiers but a stout ship’s cutlass, ground to a razor’s edge,

heavy enough to paralyze any arm but one muscled like mine, hung at the

side of my berth. It was the same with which I had marked the duke.

The cabin door was a strong one. It was locked and barred without.

I might have broken through it. I could have done so if I had had

space enough in which to run and hurl myself against it. I might even

have kicked it to pieces with my heavy seaman’s boot. Certainly I

could easily have blown the lock off with my pistol, but any of these

endeavors would have aroused the ship.

To let the sleeping dogs lie when you have no means of controlling

them should they awaken, I have ever found to be a good maxim. I had

one other hope. If Captain Matthews should come to the cabin I would

appeal to him. For the rest I determined not to sleep that night. Some

strange foreboding possessed me, such a feeling a man has when his own

hand is taken from the helm and no other is near by to grasp it, as if

the uncontrolled ship must surely broach to and founder.

We were near the latitude and longitude of the island we were seeking,

if indeed there were such an island as was thought to be, and I

reasoned that the men would argue that now would be a good time for an

outbreak, especially since I was removed. Would it come that night?

Would it come at all? Was I mistaken in the men?

I have often wondered why women were made and, since they were made,

why men should be such fools about them--yet I would by no means unmake

them! Here I was helpless just because I had snatched a kiss from one.

Although I had ever been a decent man as man goes, I had ventured as

far as kisses with maidens here and there in this little world around

which I had gone so many times, and none of them had ever taken it

quite like that. To be sure, none of them was like her. And now that

I am in the mood for confession, I might as well say that I fully

rejoiced in that kiss. It had not been on the cheek first but full and

fair on her lips, and I had held her tight and drunk my fill--no not

that, of course; I could never do that, but still it had been a man’s

kiss on a maiden’s lips fairly given, and--

Well, whatever happened, I had the memory of that kiss. She would never

forgive me. Of course, there was absolutely no hope that she would

return my suit even in her poverty. She was not for such as I, and if

there was anything in this old buccaneer’s parchment, if there was an

island, if she did get the treasure, why the world would be at her feet

again; and I, like the fool I was, was helping her get it, to bring

that about. I was mad, aye, mad, with impotent helplessness that night.

I sat there in the dark, no light being vouchsafed to me and the

lanterns in the outer cabin not having been lighted, for a long time.

The wind rose and rose. The ship was pitching madly. My room was on

the starboard side of the cabin and presently I heard all hands called

to reef the topsails. Captain Matthews was alert and ready, of course.

Presently he put the ship about and with some of the canvas off her

she was steadier. There did not seem to be any especial danger in the

weather and for that I was thankful.

I must have dozed. I was awakened by the last echoing of the bell

forward. I didn’t know what time it was because I didn’t know whether I

had heard it begin to strike, but I could count three couplets, which

meant that it was eleven o’clock at least. I didn’t know, of course,

that it was eight bells, midnight, until after a shrill piping of his

whistle the long-drawn-out voice of the boatswain came to me through

the low bulkhead that separated the trunk cabin from the quarter-deck

above and the ’tween decks below.

“A--a--all the port watch! Show a leg, lively, lads!”

I could hear the men of the watch below grumbling and cursing as they

turned out. They had evidently been sent to their hammocks after the

topsails had been reefed for a couple of hours in. I could also hear

scraps of conversation as they struggled into their jackets and coats.

“Let’s do it.”

“Now?”

“Yes!”

“Shall we kill him?”

“This is the best time!”

“Aye, aye.”

“The old man’s alone!” and so on.

What I heard filled me with dismay. The purport was plain. I picked

up the pistol and pointed it at the lock in the door. I had made up

my mind, come what might, to blow off the lock and get free. Perhaps

I could even yet prevent and overawe them. Before I could press the

trigger, however, I heard a call on the deck above me, a shot, a rush

of feet, a scuffle, oaths, curses, a cry for help, a groan, a fall!

CHAPTER VII

WHEREIN I BARGAIN FOR A WOMAN

What dire misfortune had happened I could well guess. Captain Matthews

had been attacked. He had promptly shot one of the mutineers, and

thereafter the rest had killed him. My next impulse was to blow open

the lock of the door as I had intended, and rush to avenge him, but

wiser counsel prevailed and I did nothing. I am, I think, somewhat

cool-headed in a crisis, and surely this was one. I could wait. A

loaded pistol was better than an empty one, and to deal with me they

would have to come to me for whatsoever purpose they might entertain,

either to murder me or to release me. In either event I could do more

than if I rushed headlong into the fray now. I could not help poor

Captain Matthews. I was sure that whatever fell purpose they might

entertain for my little mistress would be in abeyance until they had

settled with me. I flattered myself that I was too important to be

disregarded by the mutineers. Therefore, I carefully looked to my

weapons, seeing to the priming and slipping an additional bullet in the

barrel. After that I stood by the door, weapon in hand, grimly ready

for the murderous mutineers.

I waited with every nerve strained to the utmost. I also listened most

anxiously for the opening of the door of the after cabin which was her

own, but she must have been in a sound sleep, indeed, for the door did

not open. Evidently she had heard nothing, mercifully she had not been

awakened. After all, if she had come into the main cabin I think I must

have come out also, one way or another; but so long as she slept, and

so long as I could force the door when I wished, I waited. It was not

an easy task, but I judged it best.

Fortunately, I had not long to wait, for in less time by far than

I have taken to tell it, the hatch was opened and a number of

heavy-booted men clattered down the companionway. The cabin steward,

of course, knew the arrangement of the after part of the ship and he

brought them straight to my door. The key was in the lock outside and

I could hear them turn it. I loosened my sword which I had slung by its

belt around my waist, grasped my two pistols more firmly, set my back

against the side of the ship and made ready for whatever came.

The door was pushed open abruptly and I saw the cabin was crowded with

men. At least half the crew was assembled there, and it was a little

cabin, _The Rose of Devon_ being but a small ship. The rest, I guessed,

were on watch. I could not see the boatswain, evidently he had the

deck. The vessel could not be left unwatched on such a night as this

and in such a sea, and he was the fittest man to take charge of her.

The steward had lighted both the cabin lanterns, several of the men

carried hand lanterns which they had brought from the forepeak. There

was plenty of illumination to show their villainous faces.

They were surprised to find me so prepared and I gave them no time to

recover.

“The first man,” I hissed out, raising my firearms and leveling them at

the group, “that tries to enter this berth without my permission gets a

bullet through him!”

“We mean you no harm, sir,” gruffly spoke out one who seemed to be a

ringleader, a man rated as boatswain’s mate, whose name was Glibby.

“What are you doing here,” I asked, “in the cabin at this time of

night?”

“Softly, softly, sir,” replied Glibby, “we’re here to arsk questions,

not to answer ’em.”

“What do you mean?” I cried.

“We’re masters of the ship.”

“Captain Matthews?”

“He’ll cap’n no more ships on this or any other seas,” answered Glibby

with truculent emphasis.

Now it rose in my mind to shoot him then and there, murderous brute

that he was--if I had been alone perhaps I would have done it without

reckoning the consequences to myself, but I had another to think of.

Unless craft stood me in good stead her case was hopeless. And bad as

Glibby was, Pimball was the chief villain. No, I decided, nothing much

would be gained by killing the boatswain’s mate when the boatswain

lived. I trust no man will think me a traitor or craven for what I said

next. The idea came to me on the instant and it seemed I could do no

better than adopt it. God forgive me if it was wrong.

“Curse him!” I broke out with well simulated heat, “serves him right.

He disrates me and locks me up here just for stealing a kiss from a

maid, and--”

“Spoke like a man of spirit, Mister Hampdon,” cried Glibby, greatly

pleased evidently. “What did I tell ye, mates? He’s with us.”

“With you,” said I, carelessly pointing my weapons downward but taking

good care to keep them ready, “I am with you, all right. What do you

propose? I am sick of the treatment I received, and--”

“We want that ’ere treasure for ourselves.”

“And you shall have it, provided I get my share with the other men,” I

answered, scarcely startled by their words, for this I had expected.

“We’ll share an’ share alike in everything,” answered Glibby. “Am I

right, mates?”

“Right you are,” came from the deep voices of the men.

“Aye,” said Glibby, “ship an’ treasure, an’--er--” with a frightful

leer--“woman!”

God! How I longed to clutch him by his throat and choke him! My temper

rose again, but this time, as before, I managed to keep it down though

with immense difficulty, as you may suspect.

“Come out into the cabin, Mr. Hampdon,” said Glibby with a certain

complacent civility in his manner which he doubtless meant to be

engaging, but for which I hated him the more if possible, “an’ we’ll

talk it over.”

“Wait,” said I. “Who is in command of you?”

“Why, Mr. Pimball, the bo’s’n, he’ll be in charge of the ship,”

answered Glibby.

“Very good,” I said, “I must talk with him about the future. Do you go

on deck, Glibby, and send Pimball below and he and I with the rest of

you will soon settle this matter.”

“All right,” answered the boatswain’s mate, turning to the

companionway. “Pimball can talk, him an’ you can come to terms, I make

no doubt.”

Now I couldn’t allow myself to hesitate for the thousandth part of

a second. They say when a woman hesitates she is lost, but in a

situation like mine the man who hesitated would have been lost, too.

Ostentatiously again I shoved one pistol into the belt that hung at my

right side, the other I dropped carelessly into the pocket of my coat,

and as Glibby clattered up the ladder, I walked fearlessly, to all

appearances, out of the berth and into the cabin, the men giving back

respectfully enough to leave me gangway.

“Now what is it that you propose, Master Bo’s’n?” I began, sitting down

at the cabin table, while the rest ranged themselves about it, some

standing, some sitting on the transoms at the sides, as Pimball came

lumbering down into the cabin.

For a second he was nearer death than ever before in his life, or

ever after but once, as you shall see, but prudence as before held my

itching hand.

“We know,” began Pimball insolently without further preliminaries,

“that this ship’s cruisin’ for treasure. We know all we’ll git out of

the cruise is what we signed for an’ nothin’ more. We’ve made a good

guess that the island lays hereabouts, an’ we mean to have more’n our

wage. We’re goin’ to have our share of whatever’s found that we’re

after.”

“So you shall,” I said, “I’m with you in that. I want something more

than my wages, too.”

“What’s this woman, anyway?” broke out another. “Why should she git it

all? She’s a mere girl.”

“You have said right, mate, who and why indeed?” I answered smoothly,

marking him down for my vengeance when my turn came. “Now what are your

plans?”

“We want that ’ere map or chart that you’ve been seed readin’ in your

cabin,” said Pimball.

Now it happened that I was the keeper of that parchment and of the

little stone god. She had appointed me their custodian. No one had

sought to steal them, but I kept the chart ever on my person, and the

idol in a locked drawer in my berth. I didn’t know as to the value of

the chart; it might be immensely worth while, it might not. At any

rate, it was in a little bag around my neck. I reached down, pulled out

the bag, took the torn parchment from it, and threw the two halves on

the table. There was not the least use in my pretending ignorance or

in refusing to give it up. They could kill me and take it anyway.

“There,” said I coolly, “you have it.”

Pimball picked it up and looked at it searchingly, matching the halves

and scrutinizing it dubiously.

“I can make but little out of it,” he said, staring hard at it, and

scratching his head, and I doubted if the rascal could read a line for

all his assumption of knowledge.

“You can at least see the latitude and longitude on it in the upper

corner, can’t you?” I asked, hardly suppressing my contempt for the man.

“Aye, that’s plain enough,” he answered, his face lighting a little as

he laid the chart down on the table so that the others might see.

“And you see that little wavy line that runs up from the lagoon

over the top of what looks like a wall to an opening in the side?”

I continued, determining suddenly to inflame their minds with the

treasure so that they would give less heed to other things more

important to me.

“Yes, I can make that out, too.”

“You see that little mark there?”

[Illustration: “The treasure is thereabouts.”]

Pimball turned around and faced the others crowding about him in

great and growing excitement.

“Here, lights here,” he growled.

The men nearest him shoved forward with their lanterns, illuminating

the torn sheepskin as they crowded around, and bent over the table, as

I drew back to give them room.

“Aye, I can make that out, too.”

“By--” burst out one hoarsely, “that’s the spot.”

“What does it mean?” the boatswain asked after a long stare.

“It means, if there is any truth in it, that the treasure is

thereabouts.”

“What treasure?”

“The plunder of a Spanish galleon.”

“An’ how did it git on the island?”

“It was buried in that cave there a hundred and fifty years ago by one

Philip Wilberforce, an English buccaneer.”

“And how come this girl by news of it?”

“The story goes that this Wilberforce was one of her forebears. His

ship was wrecked and finally he alone survived. He escaped, was picked

up and brought back to England with nothing but the clothes he wore

and this parchment in a bag round his neck. With all that he had gone

through he lost his mind for a space. He recovered before he died

enough to tell some story. His sons quarreled. The story, with one

half of the parchment, went to one branch of the family and the other,

with the other half, to another. They never got together again until

her father and mother, strangely enough the last survivors of the two

branches of the family which had been so long separated, came together

by marriage, and after their death she pieced out the secret.”

I told them the exact truth as you see. How much of it they understood

I could not tell. Probably but little, yet the idea of the treasure

was real enough undoubtedly and my glib way of rehearsing the story

evidently made a great impression on them.

“Is that all?” asked Pimball, as I stopped for breath.

“All that I know.”

“And you think there is treasure there?”

Now of late I had changed my mind, why I know not, but I had; yet it

would not do to tell them that, for I wanted so to fill their mind

with gold as to leave no place for woman.

“I am sure of it,” I answered vehemently--“gold, silver, jewels, God

knows what, everything to make us rich forever.”

“And what do you reckon the value of it all?”

“Oh, several millions of pounds,” I answered lightly as if the treasure

was so great that a million more or less was of no moment.

To the end of my life I shall never forget the gleaming of their eyes,

the covetousness in their faces and their bearing, the tense silence

broken only by their deep breathing, the vulgar passion for greed that

suddenly filled the little cabin.

“Hurrah!” cried out one old seaman suddenly, and the cabin on the

instant was filled with wild cries, bestial, brutal shouts.

As the sound partially died away, I heard the door back of me open. Now

I had purposely so placed myself as to be between the crowd and the

door. The door was opened but a little way. I was conscious that my

lady was at last awake and listening.

“You’re the only navigator among us, Mr. Hampdon,” began Pimball,

smoothly enough, after the men got measurably quiet again, “an if

you’re really with us, you shall sail the ship there to that island.

We’ll git the treasure aboard, sail away an’ sink her on the South

American coast, an’ then every man for himself with all he can carry.”

“Am I to be captain?” I asked.

“There’ll be no cap’n, every man for hisself, I say, but me an’ my

mate, Glibby, will take the watches in turn. You’ll navigate the ship

an’ whatever is necessary for our safety we’ll do at your order. Is it

understood?” he went on with a manner that was meant to be ingratiating.

“Yes,” answered I promptly, “but under one condition.”

“We makes no conditions but what pleases us,” said Pimball darkly.

“We’re masters of the ship, remember, an’ this is our last word.”

“It is not mine,” said I resolutely, yet without heat, for I had yet

the hardest part of the bargain to drive and I must command myself if I

were to command them.

“Well, it’s got to be,” continued Pimball with vicious menace, starting

toward me with the marlinspike he carried upraised, while others drew

their sheath knives evidently prepared to back up their leader.

“Now, my friends,” said I, coolly, “we might just as well understand

each other. You can kill me if you want to, it would be easy enough,

but when you have killed me you have killed your last chance at the

treasure. You don’t know what latitude or longitude we are in now,

there is not one of you that knows enough to take a sight or to sail

the ship to the island. You are completely helpless without me. My life

means the difference between treasure and no treasure to you. You are

all smart enough to see that.”

“He speaks right,” said an old seaman at the back of the crowd.

“There stands a man of sense,” said I, “therefore you will hear my

conditions and accede to them.”

“Heave ahead,” said Pimball roughly enough, evidently not liking the

situation but failing utterly to see how it could be amended since I

completely held the whip hand of them all.

“What I stipulate is very simple. First of all, I am to have my full

and equal share of the treasure with the rest. I am to be treated

exactly like the others in the division, and my life and liberty, which

are just as valuable to me as yours to any of you, are to be granted

me, as I grant those of others.”

“Why, we told you that in the first place,” growled out the boatswain,

“if that’s all you’ve got to say--”

“But it isn’t.”

“What else?”

“The woman.”

“Ah, the woman,” said Pimball slowly.

“What had you proposed to do with her?” I asked.

“Why--er I--er,” the man faltered, he actually did not dare to say what

had been in his mind, and I’ve no doubt that my pistol never looked

bigger than it did when I quietly laid my hand on its butt.

It was probable that the others had not as yet decided what was to

be done with her, whatever Pimball may have determined upon. I took

advantage of their hesitation and pushed the matter to a speedy

conclusion.

“Well,” I said quickly, “I want her for myself.” Did I hear a groan in

the cabin back of me? If I did, I could not afford to hesitate, I could

not let them hear. “You saw how she treated me,” I cried, raising my

voice and banging on the table with my fist; “she struck me, she had me

imprisoned. I want her to be given over to me alone.”

“But--” began Pimball, not relishing the abandonment of this prize

which he had evidently marked for his own.

“I tell you what it is, mates,” said I, disregarding him and addressing

the rest directly, “I am a poor man and the treasure, or my share of

it, means a great deal to me, but revenge means much more. You give the

woman to me and I will divide my share of the treasure among the crew.”

“Well,” began Pimball uncertainly, but the sentiment of the crew under

this appeal to their greed was palpably against him.

“Don’t be a fool, man,” cried the sailor who had spoken before. “Give

the lad the wench. When we git the treasure we can buy all the women we

need.”

“Aye, let him have her!” urged a second.

“He’ll bring her to her knees,” said a third.

“This very night,” added a fourth with a hideous leer and a horrible

laugh.

“Stop it,” I cried, doubling my fist,--this was no assumed rage either,

for my blood was boiling and I could scarce restrain myself longer.

“This is my own affair.”

The men fell back. They forgot for the moment their advantage in

numbers.

“Well, that is agreed at last,” said Pimball reluctantly enough, “you

takes the woman, we takes the treasure.”

“Agreed,” said I.

“Is that right, mates?” he asked of the rest.

“Right O,” was the answer.

“It’s all settled then,” said I, “but no--”

“Bring out the gal then an’ let’s see her,” suddenly began one of the

men, stepping forward.

I don’t know whether I could have controlled myself any further or not.

I rose to my feet, my hand clutching the pistol. The lights danced

before my eyes I was so furiously angered. I was about to raise my arm

when she saved me. The door back of me was thrown open wide and she

stepped out into the cabin. How I thrilled to see her, erect, fearless,

more beautiful than ever. She had thrown some sort of a robe about her,

and thrust her bare feet into slippers. She had gathered the cloak over

her breast with one hand. Her hair was disheveled, but how beautiful

she appeared. The men recoiled and I stepped back myself.

“I have heard all,” she cried, “you murderous villains, to have killed

my captain and seized my ship, and you--you--” she turned to me, “to

have bargained for me and to have bought me like an animal, a horse, a

dog-- Oh, if I had a weapon!”

My pistol was still in my hand and she made a clutch at it, but I was

too quick for her. I caught her by the wrist. The spell she had cast

upon us by her sudden entrance, her beautiful presence, by her proud,

brave demeanor was broken by that touch. The men laughed. God, the

remembrance of that laugh makes my blood boil even now.

“I wish you joy of her,” said one.

“You’ll have a time tamin’ her,” cried a second.

“Ah, you think so,” I cried, determining to carry out the deception to

the bitter end and to leave no chance for the least suspicion to arise.

I seized her by the shoulders, secretly praying God to forgive me for

what I was about to do, and shook her violently back and forth. It was

easy enough. A baby in my hands would not have been more helpless.

“Silence, you fools,” I cried as the men began to laugh again, and

then to her, “You belong to me, woman. Do you hear? I’ve bought you. I

am your master. Get back into your cabin. I will have speech with you

later.” Helpless, amazed, petrified with terror, she could do nothing.

I thrust her into the cabin, shut the door and faced the men. “Will you

gentlemen leave me alone to tame this she devil for a little while, and

I will be on deck presently,” I panted out.

“Very well,” said Pimball, “but before we goes--” he pointed to a heavy

bottle in the rack, “I proposes that we drinks the health of the new

navigator an’ his lady.”

“Right you are,” said I, making the best of that situation.

I reached for the glasses that were in the rack and poured out a stiff

dram for each man and added mighty little water to it. The room was

soon filled with mocking, jeering toasts to my health and happiness.

I drank with them. I have ever believed that when you attempt a thing

it is better to give your whole heart to it, or you had better not try

at all, and I did not propose to spoil the game that had progressed

successfully so far, by not joining in. So I drank with the others

although I would rather have swallowed poison. They went out one by

one, Pimball last.

“You’ll play fair with us, Mr. Hampdon,” he said earnestly and

suspiciously, too, “or--”

“You will play fair with me, or--” I retorted.

“There’s my hand on it,” he interrupted and I took it, aye and shook it.

“I wish you joy of your woman,” he sneered.

“You will see how tame she is tomorrow,” I laughed, as he climbed up

the ladder and soon disappeared.

My first instinct was to draw the hatch covers and bolt them, but I

didn’t dare. In fact, Pimball himself kicked them together. I turned to

the shut door of her cabin. To throw open the door was the work of a

minute. There she stood. She had twisted some kind of a rope out of the

sheets of her berth which she had hastily torn in strips. Her purpose

was plain. She had intended to end her life by hanging herself from the

hook in the deck beam above to which one end of her rope was secured;

and she would have done it, too, if I had not come in in the nick of

time.

I stared at her for a moment and then reached forward and tore the

plaited strands out of her hand and from around her neck and threw

them to the deck. It was evidence to me of the deepness of her despair

that she had attempted such a thing. It showed me for one thing the

excellence of my acting for I couldn’t have conceived that she would

try to do away with herself if she had the slightest suspicion that

I was a true man still. I had convinced even her of my villainy I

realized with a sudden pang.

CHAPTER VIII

WHEREIN I MAKE ALL CLEAR TO MY LITTLE MISTRESS

Hard as I stared at her, the glance that she shot back at me matched

my own. I never want to see such loathing, such contempt, such scorn

on a human countenance again--much less on her sweet face. It cut me

to the heart. Conscious of my own innocence of wrong and unaware of

the excellence of my acting, I could not understand it for a moment.

That she had so far believed my own words against her knowledge of

my character and the memory of my long, devoted, faithful service,

confounded me. I was appalled, paralyzed for the time being. I didn’t

know what to say, how to begin an explanation. I stood there gaping

like a fool. It was she who broke the silence that was becoming

insupportable between us. Come to think of it, the initiative--in

speech at least!--was invariably hers.

“A moment,” she said wildly, all her feeling in her voice, “and I had

done it, traitor!”

“Nay,” I protested, “I am a true man.”

“You bargained for me, you bought me.”

“I was not in earnest,” I started to say, but she interrupted me in a

perfect tempest of outraged feeling.

“My God!” she burst out, “why didn’t you stay away a little longer and

I had done it? You villain, you vile, low--”

But at that I found voice again, for I was getting angry myself, my

temper naturally being none the sweetest, save ordinarily when she was

concerned.

“Hear me,” I interrupted in turn.

“Not a word,” she said imperiously.

“But indeed you must,” I persisted almost roughly, stepping within her

cabin and carefully closing the door after me. “It is your welfare

alone that I seek. I think you should have known that.”

“After the insult on the quarter-deck last evening?” she asked

cuttingly.

Now I confess I had forgot that small affair in the graver matters that

ensued.

“Never mind that,” I began most unwisely.

“Never mind it!” she cried, her face flaming, “I shall never forget

your insolence as long as I live.”

“Madam,” said I, controlling myself again but with added difficulty,

“our concern is not with kisses but with--”

“What?”

“Life and--”

I hesitated.

“What else? Speak on.”

“Your honor,” I said slowly, whereat she stared at my face, now

doubtless stern enough in all conscience.

She opened her mouth to speak, but I silenced her with a wave of my

hand as I found I could do on various occasions. I did not wish to hear

further from her then. What I had to say concerned us both so deeply

that I cared not what she said and perhaps that closed cabin into which

I had penetrated was the likeliest place for privacy in the whole ship.

I could by no means be overheard, so I determined to speak freely and

in a way not to be misunderstood. She shrank back against the farther

bulkhead as I approached her. Her mouth opened to scream evidently,

although she must have realized that a call for help would have but

added to her tormentors. But I stopped her before she made a sound.

“I mean you no harm, can you not see it?” I began. “It was all a play.”

“A play,” she panted, “the murder of the captain, the mutiny of the

men, the seizure of the ship, the giving up the chart, your purchase--”

she drew herself up--by heaven, she was a brave little thing--“of me,”

she added, “with your share of the treasure: was that a play?”

“Part of it, madam,” I answered, stung by her scorn and stunned again

by the thought that she could ever have believed me capable of such

baseness, who had loved her, worshiped her, and--but for that fleeting

moment when I had kissed her--had ever treated her with such humble

consideration and respect.

“Part of it,” she repeated, “what part?”

“My part.”

“Your part?”

“I am your humble servant now as ever,” I said emphatically.

“My master, isn’t it, since you bought me?”

“God forbid, I bought not you.”

“What then?”

“The right to live and serve you, the right for you to live unharmed,

and--”

“And what?”

“And be served by me with no thought but for your safety and happiness.”

She stared at me for some moments in deep perturbation and perplexity,

her brow furrowed. I had wit enough to be silent and let the speech

work.

“Have I wronged you?” she asked falteringly at last.

“As to that, madam,” I returned firmly--oh, I yearned to take her in my

arms, to press her to my heart, to call her sweet names, but I did not

dare--“you yourself must be the judge. But if you will think a moment

you will see that I had no other course. What would your fate have

been, left to that murderous rabble on the deck yonder?”

“I could have died,” she faltered.

“Aye, of course, but not until after they had done with you,” I said

with a grim plainness of speech, seeing no other way to convince her,

and pressing home my slight advantage accordingly.

She shuddered as my meaning became clear to her.

“You should have known me better,” I continued a little reproachfully,

“than to have suspected--”

“But your insult to me this very night on the quarter-deck and your

indifference to it a moment ago!”

Her cheek flushed at the thought of it in spite of herself, and mine

flushed, too, or it would have colored had it been less brown, I have

no doubt.

“And is a man to be condemned beyond pardon who has served you truly,

because he snatches a kiss in a moment of madness and forgets it when

your life and honor tremble in the balance?”

“I did not think even you could forget that--ever,” she said and I

could not fathom exactly her purpose in that remark.

Did she not want me to forget it? Or would she have me remember it? But

this seemed like trifling. I turned away bitterly, but she caught me

by the arm instantly.

“What are you about to do?” she began. “Don’t abandon me now. I believe

in you. I see now why you did it. It was to save me and help me. What

would I do, what could I do, without you? I am--” she hesitated, it was

hard for her proud spirit, and coming nearer faltered out a few broken

words. “I am sorry,” she finished humbly, with downcast head.

“Say no more,” I answered, looking down at the little hand on my

sleeve, my soul thrilling to her words and touch. “No harm shall come

to you save over my dead body.”

“I believe it.”

“But that is not enough for me to promise. I mean to extricate you from

this peril, to save your life if I can, your honor in any case.”

“But how?”

“If the worst came I would kill you with my own hands rather than let

you fall into theirs.”

“I would welcome death itself rather than that,” she answered proudly.

“I believe it will not come to that,” I said. “I hope to save you

otherwise.”

“But is it possible?”

“I think so, I pray so.”

“You are but one against so many.”

“I have one ally in the ship, you forget,” said I, smiling at her,

relieved and thankful to see her in her right mind again and awake to

the truth and to my real feeling toward her.

“And that is--”

“Yourself.”

“A feeble helper,” she rejoined, smiling in turn.

“We shall see.”

“And will you forgive me for having misjudged you?” she asked

pleadingly.

“Gladly.”

“My hand on it then,” she said, holding out her little palm, which I

swallowed up in my large one on the instant, standing silent as usual,

holding it the while.

“And are you not sorry that you--you--kissed me?” she faltered at last.

“No,” I answered bluntly enough--being a plain man I have always felt

compelled to tell the truth--except perhaps when her interests were at

stake--“I am not sorry,”--but as she swiftly tried to draw her hand

away I added, “I promise you I won’t do it again, and you will forgive

me, I know. Meanwhile, we have much to plan, we may be interrupted any

time, and we had best get at it.”

I released her hand and she faced me calmly enough.

“You don’t know how much safer I feel when I have you to depend upon,”

she said.

How my heart leaped at that assurance for I saw by it that she had

indeed forgiven me.

“I shall leave everything to you, Master Hampdon,” she continued. “Do

you tell me what to do and I will do it.”

“I know you will. I could not ask a braver, better second,” I answered

heartily.

At that moment I heard a step on the ladder. Somebody was coming. Quick

as a flash I realized the part we had to play in public. I balled my

fist and struck the bulkhead savagely. I suppose I must have changed my

expression as well for in her surprise, she screamed faintly.

“That’s it,” I whispered, “cry out again, but louder, louder.”

“What do you mean?” she asked hurriedly, with uncomprehending

amazement--in this crisis my wits working quicker than hers.

“There is somebody outside. We have a part to play. I am abusing you

and you are fighting for your life,” I whispered swiftly, then louder,

fairly shouting at her, indeed, I cried out, “Down on your knees,

wench. You will find that you have met your master now.”

I made some sound of scuffling and she did indeed scream loudly. In the

midst of the commotion the door was tried, but fortunately I had turned

the key.

“Who’s there?” I shouted, and to my lady whispered, “beg for help,

loudly.”

Entering into the spirit of the game and smiling at me since there was

none but me to see, albeit she infused strange terror in her voice so

that I was amazed myself, she cried at the top of her voice,

“Help! Help!”

I in turn called louder yet.

“Silence woman!” and struck the bulkhead again.

Finally turning to the door I opened it a bit and there stood one of

the younger seamen.

“What want you?” I began sternly and stormily. “I don’t care to be

disturbed just now.”

“Well, from the sound of your love makin’,” answered the sailor

insolently, “I shouldn’t judge that you was gittin’ any for-ader.”

And here my little mistress showed her cleverness. She had pulled her

hair around her face and somewhat disarranged her dress. She sprang to

the door and striving to pass my outstretched arm, pathetically begged

the seaman’s assistance from this great brute, meaning myself! It was

well done and deceived the man completely.

“I can’t help you,” he said. “I’d like to, Mistress, but yon man’s

bought you with his share of the treasure an’ a bargain’s a bargain.

We must e’en stick to it, though, as I live, I think you worth it,” he

leered out at her.

“You see,” said I speaking harshly to her and thrusting her with

seeming violence away from the door, “get back into your corner, curse

you!” And then to the man, I said, “Now what’s the matter and what’s

wanted?”

“You’re wanted on deck. It is jest dawn. Land’s been sighted an’

there’s a heavy sea runnin’. Pimball an’ Glibby want your advice as to

what’s to be done.”

“Good,” said I, “I will be with you in a moment. Tell them I have yet a

word or two to say to this woman, here.”

The man turned on his heel, passed through the cabin and climbed the

ladder to the deck.

“Now,” I said quickly, thrusting one of my pistols into my little

mistress’ hand, “we can talk no longer this time; I am going to do my

best for you and if I fail here is a weapon. You know what to do with

it?”

“Shall I use it on them?”

“No, madam,” I answered grimly, “on yourself if it comes to the worst.”

“I understand,” she said, paling a little.

“Lock the door when I go out and on no account open to any voice but

mine.”

“I shall remember.”

“And keep up the acting,” I said, “whimper and cower away whenever we

are seen together.”

“I shall not forget,” she said, standing very straight, looking at me

bravely, her eyes shining.

“And now, good-by.”

I turned away but she caught me by the shoulder. She extended her hand

rather high. I was not so dumb as not to understand what she wanted and

so I bent and kissed it, and it was no light kiss of gallantry, but I

pressed my lips passionately against the little hand.

“May God keep you,” she said, as I turned away, breathing the “Amen” I

dared not speak.

I heard the key turn in the lock behind me and with a heart full of

misgivings in spite of my stern and resolute purpose, I came out on

deck again.

CHAPTER IX

IN WHICH WE ESCAPE TOGETHER FROM THE SHIP

I had no idea that it was morning already, the night had passed so

quickly. The eastern sky was already gray, and although the day

bade fair to be an unpleasant one there was already light enough to

distinguish land off to starboard; that side of the ship on the tack

on which we were then standing, was to leeward. We had run quite near

it in the night. It was still too gray to make out much more than the

existence of the land itself, but I thought I saw beyond the nearest

island others rising.

At any rate, there it was where it ought to be, and I didn’t make any

doubt but that it was the island which we had been seeking these long

weary months at sea, especially as I recalled the results of the sights

which poor Captain Matthews and I had worked out the afternoon before.

I felt no little pride in my navigation, by the way. I had told her

that I could find it, and I had done so after sailing halfway round

the world.

The observation which I had taken then and which I had checked off

later, and which Captain Matthews had also checked off by his own

shot at the sun, had shown us that we were in about the latitude and

longitude of the chart where we might hope to sight land, if the

island of our search was not purely an imaginary one. It had not been

marked on any chart, to be sure, and I had always felt some doubt

about it. The whole story was so strange and unreal, something like

a story-teller’s romance, that the longer I sailed on the voyage the

less real the whole undertaking seemed. With the passing days and the

passing leagues I had changed my once confident opinion.

Yet I knew that these parts of the ocean had not been well charted,

they were very infrequently visited, and there might well be islands

here as well as in other parts of the South Seas that no one knew

anything at all about. I had thus sought to reassure myself, and lo

and behold, there it was. I was glad then that I had not spoken of my

growing doubts to my lady.

Somehow the sight of that land set my pulses beating. If there was land

there, why should not the rest of the story be true, why should there

not be treasure?

My confidence came suddenly back to me. Yes, that must be the island

and the treasure must be upon it. I had professed to give up all of

my share to the crew for her--nevertheless, I was not insensible to

its value if it were there, and I made up my mind if human strength,

human wisdom, human cunning, and unbounded devotion could work it out,

I would outwit the crew and get all of it for her, although I realized

that riches would remove her at once further than ever from me.

What of it! I couldn’t be further from her than I was. She had shown me

my presumption and rebuked me properly for it, though indeed she had

forgiven me. She was born to be rich and happy and if I could make her

the one her friends, old and new, would doubtless make her the other.

As for me--well, I could go off on some longer cruise even than this

and never come back. Nobody would care. I didn’t have much time to

think about these things, but the resolution came to my mind then as I

set it down here.

The whole crew was on deck. I didn’t see Captain Matthews’ body about,

although I looked hastily for it. I learned later that they had tumbled

the poor old man overboard after they had knocked him on the head. He

had shot a mutineer before the rest killed him, and he, too, had gone

into the sea with the same lack of ceremony--murdered and murderer

together to wait the final reckoning. Pimball, Glibby, and one or two

others of the older seamen were on the quarter-deck, the rest being

strung along the lee rail in the waist, staring at the island. Two good

hands were at the wheel. The ship was pitching and laboring heavily and

it required two men to hold her up to it.

Everything above the topsail yards had been furled, of course, and

during the night they had taken a second reef in the topsails. A whole

gale was now blowing. _The Rose of Devon_ was a wet ship in a seaway,

and she was making heavy weather out of it. Every once in a while a

wave would slap her on the weather bow and send a cloud of spray as

high as the foreyard, followed by a torrent of water flooding aft.

Fortunately it was not cold. We were only a few degrees south from the

line so the water was warm and nobody minded an occasional ducking.

I noticed one thing with satisfaction. They had evidently not thought

it worth while to break open the arms chest or to force the key from

me, which they could easily have done, and therefore none of them was

armed. The desirability of getting at the arms had not occurred to

them, or else, they being so many, and I but one, they had not thought

it worth while. At any rate, save their sheath knives, weapons they

had none. Even Captain Matthews’ pistols had been thrown over with the

body, in their hasty disposition of it.

“Well,” I began, as I climbed over the hatch combing and turned aft.

“I sent for you, Hampdon,” began Pimball insolently, and his

failure to ‘mister’ me or to give me any title indicated our

present relations--and of course I expressed no resentment over his

disrespect--“because o’ that,” he pointed to the leeward toward the

island, which we were now sufficiently close to see easily in the

growing light, and to which we were rapidly drawing nearer. “What do

you make of it?”

“It looks like land,” I said to gain time.

“It is land, of course,” he rejoined impatiently, “but what land?”

“How can I tell?” I answered evasively. “I have never been in these

seas before.”

“Well, you took a shot at the sun yesterday, didn’t you?”

“Certainly.”

“An’ where were we?”

I named a latitude and longitude, not exactly what I had worked out

but near enough. For obvious reasons I didn’t want these ruffians to

know exactly where we were or to have any accurate information on any

subject. He pulled out the chart as I spoke and compared its figures

with those I had given them. Evidently he could read figures if not

letters.

“At any rate,” he said after studying over the map for a little time,

“that ain’t far from the p’int we’re makin’ for, is it?”

“No,” I admitted, “not very.”

“Do you think that can be it?”

“I can’t tell for certain,” I replied, determined not to commit

myself, “until I get another shot at the sun. I should think the

latitude about right, but as to the longitude--”

“An’ you can’t git no shot at the sun ’til noon, can you?”

unceremoniously put in Glibby, casting a long look to the eastward

where the sky was thick and cloudy already.

“I can’t even get an observation then unless we have clear weather,” I

answered.

“There’ll be no clear weather today, I take it,” said an old seaman,

standing with the other two.

“I don’t much think it,” I assented.

“Well, what do you advise, then?” asked Pimball.

“That we stand on slowly during the day and heave to at night, and if

we can’t get a shot at the sun, stay hereabouts until the sky is clear

and the sun visible, then we will know just exactly what course to take

and just what’s best to be done.”

The advice was so self-evidently good, in fact, the only practicable

course, that there was no hesitation in accepting it. Pimball,

Glibby, and the older sailors conferred together for a few minutes

and decided that what I had said was sensible. The boatswain stepped

up to the horse block, grabbed the trumpet, and shouted his orders.

Presently the ship was hove to with the island well under her lee,

distant perhaps a league and a half or maybe two leagues. Personally I

should not have hove to a ship so close to a lee shore. I should not

have advised it and indeed would have protested against it, had I not

suddenly developed a plan, a plan as desperate as ever came into man’s

head, but then the situation required desperate remedies. And for the

accomplishment of the plan the ship was now in the very best position I

could have put her.

There were thirty able-bodied men on that ship, not one of whom could

have matched me individually, but collectively I was nothing compared

to them. If that were the island for which we had been headed, I did

not want to leave it without an inspection. Privately I had no doubt

but that it was, because, as near as I could calculate from our last

observation, it was exactly in the spot where it ought to be, did the

parchment tell the truth. As I said before, I prided myself on my

navigation and I do still. It was no light thing to sail a ship from

England across the whole length of the Atlantic, round Cape Horn and

take her up into the tropics and put her just where she ought to be;

and I submit that I had a right to be proud.

Well, if that were the island, I was minded to desert the ship with my

lady, get ashore and trust ourselves to the tender mercies of whatever

natives there were rather than stay with the vessel. The savages,

if any there were, couldn’t do any more than murder us, and, unless

I could shoot her first, the men would eventually treat her, and me

too, a deal worse than that. I took no stock in their promises and

agreements. Once they got the treasure it would follow that they would

kill me and take her. So I made up my mind to desert the ship with my

mistress just as soon as I could get away from her, and I thought I

could. Rather the natural savage than the civilized one for us both, I

decided. That was my desperate design.

When we got _The Rose of Devon_ safely hove to, the men all knocked off

work at once, leaving the decks in a state of confusion. Indeed, save

to clear up the gear, there was nothing to do but wait. Two or three

men were stationed on watch and the rest were given the freedom of the

ship. I was in doubt as to what to say about the cabin, but strangely

enough nobody made any effort to take advantage of the mastery of the

crew to quarter himself there. Indeed, their quarters forward were

almost as good as ours and they evidently preferred to be together.

The ship was generously provisioned and the fare of the men had been

unusually good. They did, however, break into the lazarette and help

themselves to whatever they liked out of the cabin stores, including a

case of bottled spirits.

I looked at that action with very considerable alarm at first,

wondering whether it would not be wise or better for me to interfere,

lest I should be unable to control them at all when drunk. I decided

in the end not to interpose any objections. In fact, I went further

in pursuance of my plan and I flatter myself that my design was a

brilliant one. From the cabin stores presently I brought out other

liquor and let them have as much as they wanted. I even plied them with

it, playing the host with much profession of generosity and hearty

hospitality. A little liquor would make them ugly and intractable, I

reasoned, a great deal would make them drunk, and enough would render

them completely helpless. I even joined them in their carousal. It was

easy enough to spill my portion and make a pretense at drinking which

soon deceived them. They took to the liquor like ducks to the water and

voted me a royal good fellow and the prince of pirates. I mixed the

raw spirits with very heady wines, too, being much astonished at their

capacity, by the way.

The men on watch kept reasonably sober for a time, but even they were

not any too abstemious. I saw to that. Later on, the cook, who was not

yet too drunk, fixed them up a regular banquet out of the cabin stores,

and there was no objection to my taking a portion to my lady in the

stateroom below, where she needed no urgent entreaty to keep close and

remain out of the way.

My communications that long day with my sweet charge were necessarily

much intermitted and very short. I did not dare to be long away from

the men on deck. I still wore my sword, and searching through the

captain’s cabin found two heavy pistols which I carefully charged,

concealing them in the deep pockets of my pea jackets. I passed among

the men freely, handing out the spirits, opening fresh bottles and

bandying rough jests, but took care never to be in any position where I

could not command the companion hatch which led to the cabin.

The day did not pass without some altercations and quarrels. One man

did endeavor to get below but I was too quick for him. He was one of

the most unimportant among the crew and I fetched him a sound buffet

which laid him out--he was too drunk to resent it successfully even

then--and which was greeted with a roar of laughter by the rest.

“Play fair, Jack,” yelled Pimball drunkenly; he was rather better

humored in his cups than out, it seemed; “he has give up his share of

the treasure for the girl. Let him have her,” of which sentiment the

rest of the villains apparently were pleased to approve.

Our drift was slowly but surely in the direction of the island. Indeed,

I think we had made half a league or more to leeward since we had been

hove to. From time to time I searched the shore with a glass, seeing

that the land was protected and completely enclosed by a reef on that

side at least, which agreed with the chart; but the sky continued

overcast and the mist grew thicker, so I couldn’t make out much more

than that. It was land and that was enough. It was big enough to

support life, and I thought that I detected green patches here and

there that betokened vegetation, and if so, there must be water and

where there was water there was certainly life.

Nobody took any care to strike the bells, but when darkness fell I

declared noisily that I would go below and turn in. All but the most

seasoned and hardy drinkers were by this time dead-drunk. There was

evidently some little remembrance of my rank, for no one yet conscious

made any objection. Pimball, lying supine on the deck, hiccoughed out

that he and Glibby, who was in no better case, would keep the watches,

so far as the ship needed watching. I ventured to suggest that the ship

could be left alone without watch at all under the circumstances and he

stuttered out a complete agreement over the bottle which he and Glibby

lovingly shared. The wind had moderated somewhat, although it was

still blowing hard. We set no more sail, however, and indeed, unless we

wished to drift past the island, it was not necessary, especially as

they still kept her hove to. With drunken effusiveness they assured me

that they would take care of the ship and I went below, having provided

all of them with a fresh supply of drink just before.

I sometimes wonder if I would not have been justified in killing them

all while they were rendered thus helpless. But I could not bring

myself to such wholesale murder, richly as they deserved it and little

as I was inclined to mercy. I also thought of clapping them in irons

and stowing them below. But there were not irons enough aboard for that

purpose and Mistress Wilberforce and I could not work the ship unaided;

we could not even feed and water our prisoners. Yet, if I could have

counted on three or four true men’s assistance, I would have risked it.

So far as I could judge the whole crew had become thoroughly corrupt. I

did not dare to try any of them. No, to abandon the ship was our only

chance.

How my little mistress had passed the dragging, anxious hours of that

awful day you can better imagine than I can describe. And my occasional

visits had scarcely reassured her greatly. Yet in an emergency I have

never known a woman who had more spirit, who could bear herself more

courageously, and I never want to be so loyally or efficiently backed

by anyone as she backed me. But I have often observed that it is the

waiting that is hardest. It is the standing still and not knowing what

is going to turn up, that takes strength out of a strong man and much

more out of a nervous woman.

She had left her noon meal practically untouched, and was sitting there

in the cabin nervously clutching the pistol, frightened half to death.

Poor girl, I didn’t blame her. Whatever may have been the cause of it

she was genuinely glad to see me when I came in and lighted the cabin

lanterns.

“Oh,” she cried, “I have been in agony the whole day. Every sound has

caused me to seize this weapon and when I have not been watching the

door I have been on my knees praying for you and for myself. I do not

think I can stand another day like this.”

“Please God, dear lady, you shall not,” I said, smiling reassuringly at

her.

“What do you mean? Have you a plan?”

“I have. The men are all drunk.”

“I heard them taking the spirits from the rack, and--”

“I gave them all they wanted, and more,” I interposed.

“Was that wise?”

“Certainly.”

“I don’t understand.”

“A little liquor would have inflamed them, a great deal stupefies them.

They are as helpless as logs now, and if I had three good men besides

myself I could take the ship. As it is--” I hesitated--“I am here to

serve you. I am going to leave the ship and take you with me.”

“But how--when?”

For answer I threw open the stern window of her cabin. On a level with

it swung a small boat, a whaleboat. Now I had taken occasion during the

day to lower that boat little by little, a few inches at a time and

then a few inches at another time, as I had opportunity to get near

the falls and to manipulate them unobserved, being sheltered by the

trunk cabin, of which all the men were forward, and I had succeeded

in my purpose without attracting attention, although the risk had

been tremendous. Of course, I couldn’t lower it clear to the water,

but I had brought it down to the level of the cabin windows. Its sea

lashings were cast off and I had no doubt, if conditions on deck were

as I expected them to be, I could lower it all the way later on with

impunity.

“What do you mean?” she asked, staring out of the window and into the

empty boat.

“I mean that you and I are going to embark in that boat tonight and

leave this ship.”

“But where are we going?”

“There is land not a league and a half under our lee. It seems to be

the most easterly of a cluster of islands.”

“Is it the island we seek, do you think?”

“I have no doubt,” I replied, “if there is such an island, that it will

be one of the cluster. We are in exactly the latitude and the longitude

of the chart if my calculations are correct.”

“The island was uninhabited when my ancestor was cast away upon it.”

“Yes,” said I, “but there may be natives there now, and no savages of

the South Seas could be more cruel and ruthless than the men on this

ship. To be frank with you, I have no doubt that as soon as they are

sure that they have reached the island and that my services are no

longer necessary to enable them to find the treasure, they will murder

me out of hand.”

“And me?”

“They would not be so merciful to you.”

“But wouldn’t they want to keep you to take the ship back?”

“That is an easy matter,” I answered. “All they would have to do would

be to lay a course as nearly possible due east and they would bring up

on the South American coast, Peru, Chile, somewhere, it would not make

very much difference where, so long as it was near Spanish settlements.

Then they would divide the treasure, wreck the ship, and scatter

themselves and their gains. No, my usefulness ends as soon as they

determine that yonder is the island and that the treasure is there.”

“Let us go,” she said, shuddering.

“I thought you would see it that way,” I replied; “the worst the

natives can do, if there are any, is to murder us and I shall always

save the last shot--” I paused, I couldn’t bear to say it.

“For me,” she added softly, laying her little hand again upon my

arm--and how I loved and prized those little touches, those little

evidences of trust and confidence.

I nodded stupidly, speechless as usual.

“What is your plan?” she asked.

“I want you to dress yourself in your stoutest clothes with your

heaviest shoes, wrap yourself up in a boat cloak and take with you a

few necessaries for your comfort. I will go and rummage the lazarette

for provisions, and I will see if I can turn up any more weapons in the

captain’s room. I dare not go to the arms chest. It is below in the

hold anyway, and I can’t waste the time to hunt it out. We must hurry.”

“Why, you said they were insensible.”

“They carry liquor like a line-of-battle ship her tops’ls in a storm,”

I answered. “They’ll recover their senses before we know it. I want as

long a start as possible, and indeed I must hasten now.”

“Wait a moment,” she said. She opened a drawer under her berth and

drew out a leather case, which she opened and placed before me. There

were two ivory-handled, silver-mounted pistols in it. “They belonged to

my father,” she said, “with one of them he--he--” her voice broke. I

nodded. I knew what he had done with one of them. She rummaged farther

and drew out an exquisite sword, quite unlike my heavy one, but if I

could judge anything about weapons, of fine temper and strength and

with its hilt studded with diamonds. “This was my father’s, too,” she

said, and I recognized it also. It was that I had taken from Arcester.

I have worn it many times since in the King’s service, for we found it

on the ship again, after--but I go ahead of my story!

The pistols were smaller than my huge barkers, better suited for her

hand, and to load them from the flasks which accompanied them was the

work of a few minutes. I thrust my own heavy weapons back into my belt.

I then buckled her two pistols around her waist and bade her have the

sword handy also. We might need all these weapons, though I did not

think so.

Then I left her and went out on deck. The men were in a profound

drunken stupor. Pimball was sound asleep, Glibby was nodding, the

lookout aft could hardly keep himself awake and the lookout forward

was in much the same condition. The rest of the men were as helpless

as logs, like dead men in fact. I made the circuit of the ship. Glibby

leered at me as I drew abreast of him.

“Everyth-th-ing a-all-r-right?” he hiccoughed.

“Everything,” I answered shortly, “the old barque doesn’t need much

watching tonight, you can see.”

The wind had fallen somewhat and the sea was much calmer.

“W-we w-will g-get a s-s-shot at the s-sun in the m-m-orning,” he

continued, “an’ t-then we will s-s-see where w-we are.”

“Aye,” said I, “in the morning.” I yawned extravagantly. “I will go and

turn in, I think. If you need me, call me.”

He flung a vile suggestion after me which made me want to turn and

heave him overboard, but I had to force a laugh as I went below into

the cabin. I saw that in a few moments he and the lookouts forward and

aft would be like the rest.

The lazarette was well provided and I stocked the boat handsomely,

not forgetting compass, lantern, tinder box, and candles. There was

not much water, but I emptied some bottles of wine and filled them,

although I did not greatly worry on that account because there would be

plenty of water undoubtedly on the island. The boat was provided with a

mast and sail. I got into her as she swung at the davits and overhauled

spar and gear. Then I shipped the tiller and presently everything was

ready. A final search brought to light a narrow locker in the captain’s

room which I forced open, and found to contain a fine fowling piece, a

double-barreled shotgun, and a heavy musket with plenty of powder and

ball. These I passed into the boat also, with a sharp and heavy axe.

“Have you got ready all that you wish to take?” I asked my little

mistress when all my own preparations were completed.

“A change of linen, some toilet articles and necessaries, needles and

thread,” she answered, holding up her bundle.

“Good,” said I. I judged it was about ten o’clock at night. “Now do you

get into the boat, madam.”

She had not been on the ship for six months without having learned

something about it and she instantly asked me,

“But how are you going to lower the boat away?”

“I will have to go up on deck for that,” I said.

“But won’t they see you?”

“I don’t think so, but whether they do or not, we must chance it, but

if anything should happen to me, I’ll manage first to lower and then

to cut the boat adrift and you will be in God’s hands. I don’t think

they will see me and I am going to do my best to see that nothing does

happen, but always you will have to trust to Him.”

“I do, I do,” she whispered, “and to you.”

There was no irreverence in that, I am sure, and I bowed my head

silently, assisting her to take her place in the stern sheets. It was

not a large boat, yet she made but a small figure sitting there. Then I

went on deck. I had a can of oil with me to oil the blocks. It was as

I fancied. By that time everybody on the ship was asleep in a drunken

stupor and the bottle I had passed to the hard-headed Glibby as I had

left him had done its work, too. The two lookouts were sleeping with

the others. The man forward was sprawled on the deck. I went forward

to make sure. The ship was deserted so far as human supervision was

concerned.

Still, I didn’t neglect any precaution. I oiled the sheaves of the

blocks and lowered the boat away carefully inch by inch until it was

water-borne. I reassured my mistress by whispered words as I did so.

She had had her instructions, and right well she followed them. She had

her boat hook out and fended off the minute the boat touched the water.

For me to belay the falls and slide down the forward one, to cast off

and take my place in the boat was but the work of an instant. The oars

had been carefully muffled. Although the noise of the waves rendered

conversation quite safe we neither of us spoke a word until I had rowed

some distance from the ship.

As I pulled away I half regretted that I had not poured the remainder

of the oil down the fore hatch and set fire to it. But as I said, I

could not bring myself to wholesale murder like that, for drunk as they

were none could have escaped. No, the only thing I could do was to

leave them, though there came a time when I regretted my squeamishness

and was sorry I had not made way with them while I had a chance.

We were very silent for the first ten minutes or so. I think my

mistress was saying her prayers, while I rowed as I had never rowed

before. I could see the stern cabin lights plainly as we drew away from

the ship, although for the rest she was in total darkness, no other

lights showing, and so soon as we did get far enough away to render

talking advisable I had too much to do to spend any time in discussion.

I had to get the mast stepped and the sail spread. Fortunately, the

breeze was blowing directly northwestward and that was the course

we wanted to steer. I suppose it was nearly midnight before we got

everything shipshape, my lady bravely helping me with her best efforts,

and the little vessel threshed gallantly through the big seas.

The wind had gone down considerably but it was very different on

the dinghy to what it had been on the ship and my mistress cowered

close beside me, clinging to my arm with that instinctive craving

for human contact and for human society which we all feel under such

circumstances.

I had carefully taken my bearings during the day, and as I had a good

compass on the boat I knew exactly how to steer. Fortunately the wind

held steady. I laid her course so as to clear the northeast end of the

island around which I intended to swing so as to be hidden from the

ship at daybreak. Of course we would eventually be pursued, but if I

could get a long start there might be other islands among which I could

choose my refuge. Many things might turn up of which a bold man might

take advantage. At any rate, I had escaped from them, and the one I

loved sat by my side. The clouds had gone, overhead the sky sparkled

with tropic stars. We looked to the Southern Cross and took courage.

We didn’t talk much. I didn’t dare, and, for a wonder, she had nothing

to say. I managed the boat, even if I do say it myself, with great

skill. I told her after a while that she was safe. No sound had come

from the ship and the lights in the cabin, which at first we could

see dimly, presently disappeared. Our escape had not been discovered.

I suggested at last that she should go to sleep. I arranged the boat

cloak and blankets and although she had to be much persuaded, I finally

prevailed upon her to lie down in the boat, her head by my knees, and

thus we sailed on through the night.

BOOK III

ON THE ISLAND OF MYSTERY

_The Treasure is Found and Fought For_