"I have looked back, and I cannot see you placing a cabin at my
disposal, seeing me nursed back from the brink of death, treated as a
man would treat his wounded brother."
"No," cried Humphrey, quickly; "and why have you done all this when it
would have been kinder to have slain me on that wretched day?"
"Why have I done this!" said the buccaneer, with the colour deepening in
his swarthy face. "Ah, why have I done this! Perhaps," he continued
bitterly, "because I said to myself: `This is a brave, true, English
gentleman;' and I find instead a man who does not hesitate to lie to
screen his paltry effort to escape."
Humphrey made a menacing gesture; but the buccaneer did not stir.
"Look here, sir," he continued. "I am in this place more powerful among
my people than the king you serve. You smile; but you will find that it
is true."
"If I am not killed, sir, trying to make some effort to escape."
"Escape!" cried the buccaneer, with his face lighting up. "Man, you
have been warned before that you cannot escape. The forest beyond where
we stand is one dense thicket through which no man can pass unless he
cut his way inch by inch. It is one vast solitude, standing as it has
stood since the world was made."
"Bah!" cried Humphrey, scornfully. "A determined man could make his
way."
"How far!" cried the buccaneer. "A mile--two miles--and then, what is
there?--starvation, fever, and death--lest in that vast wilderness.
Even the Indians cannot penetrate those woods and mountains. Will you
not take my word!"
"Would you take mine," said Humphrey, scornfully, "if our places were
changed! I shall escape."
The buccaneer smiled.
"You have an easy master, captain," he said, quietly; "but I would like
to see you wear your chains more easily. Humphrey Armstrong, you cannot
escape. There is only one way from this place, and that is by the sea,
and there is no need to guard that. Look here," he cried, laying his
hand upon the prisoner's arm, "you have been planning this for days and
days. You have lain out yonder upon that stone by the old palace,
calculating how you could creep away; and you found your opportunity
to-day, when you said to yourself, `These people are all asleep now, and
I will find my way round to where my men are prisoners.'"
As he spoke Humphrey changed colour and winced, for the buccaneer seemed
to have read his every thought.
"And then you came upon this path through the forest, and you felt that
this was the way to freedom."
"Are you a devil?" cried Humphrey, excitedly.
"Perhaps," was the mocking reply. "Perhaps only the great butterfly you
watched before you started, as it lazily winged its way among the broken
stones."
Humphrey uttered an exclamation, and gazed wildly in the dark, mocking
eyes.
"Never mind what I am, captain, but pray understand this--you cannot
escape from here. When you think you are most alone, there are eyes
upon you which see your every act, and your movements are all known."
"I will not believe it," cried Humphrey, angrily.
"Then disbelieve it; but it is true. I tell you there is no escape,
man. You may get away a few miles perhaps, but every step you take
bristles with the threatenings of death. So be warned, and bear your
fate patiently. Wait! Grow strong once more."
"And then!" cried Humphrey, excitedly. "What then?"
"Ah, yes," said the buccaneer, who assumed not to have heard his words,
"you are still weak. That flush in your face is the flush of fever, and
you are low and excited."
"Dog! You are mocking me!" cried Humphrey, furiously, for he felt the
truth of every word that had been said, and his impotence maddened him.
"Dog!" cried the buccaneer as furiously.
"Yes; wretched cut-throat--murderer," cried Humphrey--"miserable wretch,
whom I could strangle where you stand!"
The buccaneer turned of a sallow pallor, his brow knit, his eyes
flashed, and his chest heaved, as he stood glaring at Humphrey; but the
sudden storm of passion passed away, and with a smile of pity he said
softly--
"You call names like a petulant boy. Come, I am not angry with you, let
us go back to your room. The heat of this place is too much for you,
and to-morrow you will be down with fever."
"Humph!" ejaculated Humphrey, angrily.
"It is true," said the buccaneer. "Come."
"There's something behind all this," cried the young man, excitedly.
"We are alone here. I am the stronger; and, in spite of your boasting,
there is no one here to help. You shall speak out, and tell me what
this means."
His gesture was threatening now; but the buccaneer did not stir.
"I am not alone," he said, quietly. "I never am without someone to
protect me. But there, you shall be answered. Why have I had you
tended as I have? Well, suppose I have said to myself, `Here is a brave
man who should be one of us.'"
"One of you!" cried Humphrey, with a scornful laugh.
"Suppose," continued the buccaneer, with his nether lip quivering
slightly, "I had said to myself, `You are alone here. Your men obey
you, but you have no friends among them--no companions whom you can
trust. Why not make this man your friend?'"
Humphrey smiled, and the buccaneer's lip twitched slightly as he
continued--
"You are fevered and disappointed now, and I shall not heed your words.
I tell you once for all that you must accept your fate here as others
have accepted theirs. I need not tell you that for one to escape from
here would be to bring ruin upon all. Hence every one is his brother's
guardian; and the Indians for hundreds of miles around, at first our
enemies till they felt my power, are now my faithful friends."
Humphrey laughed mockingly.
"You laugh, sir. Well it is the laugh of ignorance, as you will find.
It is no idle boast when I say that I am king here over my people, and
the tribes to north and south."
"The Indians too?" said Humphrey.
"Yes, the Indians too, as you found to your cost."
"To my cost?"
"To your cost. Your ship was in my way. You troubled me; and your
people had to be removed. Well, they were removed."
"The treacherous hounds!" cried Humphrey, grinding his teeth as he
recalled the action of the two Indians, and their escape.
"Treacherous! No. You would have employed men to betray me; it was but
fighting you with your own weapons, sir; and these you call treacherous
hounds were true, brave fellows who risked their lives to save me and
mine."
Humphrey was silent.
"Come, Captain Armstrong; you will suffer bitterly for this. There are
chills and fevers in the depths of this forest which seize upon
strangers like you, especially upon those weakened by their wounds, and
I do not want to lose the officer and gentleman who is to be my friend
and help here, where I am, as it were, alone."
"Your friend and help!" said Humphrey, haughtily. "I am your prisoner,
sir; but you forget to whom you are speaking. How dare you ask me to
link my fate with that of your cut-throat band--to share with you a life
of plunder and disgrace, with the noose at the yard-arm of every ship in
His Majesty's Navy waiting to end your miserable career? I tell you--I
tell you--"
He made a clutch at the nearest branch to save himself, for his head
swam, black spots veiled in mist and strangely blurred seemed to be
descending from above to form a blinding veil before his eyes. He
recovered himself for a moment, long enough to resent the hand stretched
out to save him, and then all was blank, and with a hoarse sigh he would
have fallen heavily but for the strong arms that caught him, held him
firmly for a few moments, and then a faint catching sigh was heard in
the stillness of the forest, as Humphrey Armstrong was lowered slowly
upon the moss and a soft brown hand laid upon his forehead, as the
buccaneer bent down upon one knee by his side.
"Want me?" said a deep low voice; and the buccaneer started as if from a
dream, with his face hardening, and the wrinkles which had been smoothed
reappearing deeply in the broad forehead.
"You here, Bart?"
"Ay, I'm here."
"Watching me?"
"Ay, watching of you."
The buccaneer rose and gave the interloper an angry look.
"Well, why not!" said Bart. "How did I know what he'd do?"
"And you've seen and heard all?"
"Everything," said Bart, coolly.
"When I told you to be within hearing only if I whistled or called."
"What's the use of that when a blow or a stab would stop them both?"
"Bart, I--"
"Go on, I don't mind," said Bart, quietly, "I want to live, and if you
was to come to harm that would be the end of me."
The buccaneer gave an impatient stamp, but Bart paid no heed.
"Give me a lift up and I'll carry him back," he said quietly.
All this was done, and Dinny summoned, so that when, an hour later,
Humphrey unclosed his eyes, it was with his head throbbing with fever, a
wild half-delirious dreaminess troubling his brain, and the great stone
image glaring down at him through the dim green twilight of the prison
room.
It was a bitter experience for the prisoner to find that he had
overrated his powers. The effort, the excitement, and the malaria of
the forest prostrated him for a fortnight, and at the end of that time
he found that he was in no condition to make a further attempt at
securing the means of escape.
He lay in his gloomy chamber thinking over the buccaneer's insolent
proposal, and fully expected that he would resent the way in which it
had been received; but to his surprise he received the greatest of
attention, and wine, fruit, and various delicacies that had evidently
come from the stores of some well-found ship were placed before him to
tempt his appetite.
Dinny was his regular attendant, and always cheery and ready to help him
in every way; but no more was said for a time respecting an evasion,
though Humphrey was waiting his time; for after lying for hours, day
after day, debating his position, he came to the conclusion that if he
did escape it must be through this light-spirited Irishman.
His captor did not come to him as far as he knew; but he had a suspicion
that more than once the buccaneer had been watching from some point or
another unknown to him. But one day a message was brought by Bart, who
entered the gloomy chamber and in his short, half-surly way thus
delivered himself--
"Orders from the skipper, sir."
"Orders from your captain!" said Humphrey, flushing.
"To say that he is waiting for your answer, sir."
"My answer, man? I gave him my answer."
"And that he can wait any time; but a message from you that you want to
see him will bring him here."
"There is no other answer," said Humphrey, coldly.
"Better not say that," said Bart, after standing gazing at the prisoner
for some time.
"What do you mean?" cried Humphrey, haughtily.
"Don't know. What am I to say to the captain?"
"I have told you. There is no answer," said Humphrey, coldly, and he
turned away, but lay listening intently, for it struck him that he had
heard a rustle in the great stone corridor without, as if someone had
been listening; but the thick carpet-like curtain fell, and he heard no
more, only lay watching the faint rays of light which descended through
the dense foliage of the trees, as some breeze waved them softly, far on
high, and slightly relieved the prevailing gloom.
Bart's visit had started a current of thought which was once more
running strongly when Dinny entered with a basket of the delicious
little grapes which grew wild in the sunny open parts of the mountain
slopes.
"There, sor," he said, "and all me own picking, except about half of
them which Misthress Greenheys sint for ye. Will ye take a few bunches
now?"
"Dinny," said Humphrey in a low earnest voice, "have you thought of what
I said to you?"
"Faix, and which? what is it ye mane, sor?"
"You know what I mean, man: about helping me to escape from here?"
"About helping ye to eshcape, sor? Oh, it's that ye mane!"
"Yes, man; will you help me?"
"Will I help ye, sor? D'ye see these threes outside the windy yonder,
which isn't a windy bekase it has no glass in it?"
"Yes, yes, I see," cried Humphrey with all a sick man's petulance.
"Well, they've got no fruit upon 'em, sor."
"No, of course not. They are not of a fruit-bearing kind. What of
that!"
"Faix, an' if I helped ye to eshcape, captain, darlin', sure and one of
'em would be having fruit hanging to it before the day was out, and a
moighty foine kind of pear it would be."