When Antonio Zeppa recovered consciousness, he found himself lying on a
mattress in the schooner's hold, bound, bleeding, and with a dull and
dreadful sense of pain at his breast, which at first he could not
account for. Ere long the sudden plash of a wave on the vessel's side
recalled his mind to his bereavement; and a cry--loud, long, and
terrible--arose from the vessel's hold, which caused even the stoutest
and most reckless heart on board to quail.
Richard Rosco--now a pirate captain--heard it as he sat alone in his
cabin, his elbows resting on the table, and his white face buried in his
hands. He did not repent--he could not repent; at least so he said to
himself while the fires kindled by a first great crime consumed him.
Men do not reach the profoundest depths of wickedness at one bound. The
descent is always graduated--for there are successive rounds to the
ladder of sin--but it is sometimes awfully sudden. When young Rosco
left England he had committed only deeds which men are apt lightly to
name the "follies" of youth. These follies, however, had proved to be
terrible leaks through which streams of corruption had flowed in upon
his soul. Still, he had no thought of becoming a reckless or heartless
man, and would have laughed to scorn any one who should have hinted that
he would ever become an outlaw and a pirate. But oppression bore
heavily on his hasty, ill-disciplined temper, and now the lowest round
of the ladder had been reached.
Even in this extremity he did not utterly give way. He would not become
an out-and-out pirate. He would merely go forth as a plunderer to
revenge himself on the world which had used him so ill. He would rob--
but he would not kill; except of course in self-defence, or when men
refused to give up what he demanded. He would temper retributive
justice with mercy, and would not suffer injury to women or children.
In short, he would become a semi-honourable, high-minded sort of pirate,
pursuing wealth without bloodshed! True, in the sad case of poor
Orlando, he had not managed to steer clear of murder; but then that deed
was done without his orders or knowledge. If his comrades in crime had
agreed, he would have preferred some sort of smuggling career; but they
would not listen to that, so he had at last consented to hoist the black
flag.
While the wretched youth was endeavouring to delude himself and gather
crumbs of comfort from such thoughts as these, the awful cry from the
ship's hold again rang out, and as his thoughts reverted to the bereaved
father, and the fair, light-hearted little mother on Ratinga Island, the
deadly pallor that overspread his countenance was intensified.
Rising hastily--with what intent he himself hardly knew--he proceeded to
the hold. It was broad day at the time, and sufficient light penetrated
the place to reveal the figure of Antonio Zeppa crouching on his
mattress, with his chin upon his knees, his handsome face disfigured
with the blood that had dried upon it, and a wild, fierce light gleaming
in his eyes.
He did not speak or move when Rosco entered and sat down on the head of
a cask near him.
"Zeppa," he said, with intense earnestness, "as God shall be my judge, I
did not mean to--to--throw--to do this to your boy. It was done without
my knowledge."
"Hah!" burst from the stricken father; but nothing more, while he
continued to gaze in the pirate captain's face.
"Indeed it is true," continued Rosco hurriedly. "I had no intention of
letting murder be done. I would not even slay the captain who has used
me so ill. I would give my life if I could alter it now--but I cannot."
"Hah!" gasped Zeppa again, still keeping his eyes fixed on Rosco's face.
"Don't look at me that way," pleaded the pirate, "as if I had done the
deed. You know I didn't. I swear I didn't! If I had been there, I
would have saved Orlando at the cost of--"
He was interrupted at this point by the repetition of the cry which had
before reached him in the cabin; but how much more awful did that
despairing cry sound near at hand, as it issued full, deep-toned, and
strong, from the chest of the Herculean man! There was a difference in
it also this time--it terminated in a wild, fiendish fit of laughter,
which caused Rosco to shrink back appalled; for now he knew that he
confronted a maniac!
For some minutes the madman and the pirate sat gazing at each other in
silent horror. Then the latter rose hastily and turned to leave the
hold. As he did so, the madman sprang towards him, but he was checked
by the chains which bound him, and fell heavily on the deck.
Returning to the cabin, Rosco went to a locker and took out a case
bottle, from which he poured half a tumbler of brandy and drank it.
Then he summoned the man who had been appointed his second in command.
"Redford," he said, assuming, by a mighty effort of self-restraint a
calm tone and manner, "you told me once of a solitary island lying a
long way to the south of the Fiji group. D'you think you could lay our
course for it?"
"I'm sure I could, sir; but it is very much out of the way of commerce,
and--"
"There is much sandal-wood on it, is there not?" asked Rosco,
interrupting him.
"Ay, sir, plenty of that, an' plenty of fierce natives too, who will
give us a warm reception. I would--"
"So much the better," returned the captain, with a cynical smile, again
interrupting; "we may be able to obtain a load of valuable wood for
nothing, and get rid of our cowards at the same time. Go, lay our
course for--what's the island's name?"
"I don't know its right name, sir; but we call it Sugar-loaf Island from
the shape of one end of it."
"That will do. And hark ye, friend, when I give orders or ask questions
in future, don't venture to offer advice or raise objections. Let the
crew understand that we must be able to pass for lawful traders, and
that a load of sandal-wood will answer our purpose well enough. It will
be your wisdom, also, to bear in mind that discipline is as useful on
board a Free Rover as on board a man-of-war, and that there is only one
way to maintain it."
The pirate captain pointed to a brace of pistols that lay on the table
beside him, and said, "Go."
Redford went, without uttering another word. His was one of those
coarse natures which are ever ready to presume and take advantage when
there is laxity in discipline, but which are not difficult to subdue by
a superior will. He forthwith spread the report that the new captain
was a "stiff un," a fact which nearly all the men were rather glad than
otherwise to hear.
For some days after leaving Ratinga a stiff breeze enabled the
schooner--which had been re-named by its crew the "Free Rover"--to
proceed southward rapidly. Then a profound calm succeeded, and for a
couple of days the vessel lay almost motionless on the sea.
During all this time the poor maniac in her hold lay upon his
blood-stained couch, for no one dared--at least no one cared--to
approach him. At meal times the cook pushed a plate of food within his
reach. He usually took no notice of this until, hunger constrained him
to devour a little, almost savagely. No word would he speak, but moaned
continually without intermission, save when, in a burst of
uncontrollable anguish, he gave vent to the terrible cry which so
weighed on the spirits of the men, that they suggested to each other the
propriety of throwing the father overboard after the son. Redford's
report of his interview with the captain, however, prevented the
suggestion being acted on.
It is possible that the two tremendous blows which Zeppa had received
during the mutiny may have had something to do with his madness; but
there can be no doubt that the intense mutual affection which had
subsisted between him and his only child, and the sudden and awful
manner of that child's end, were of themselves sufficient to account for
it.
For Orlando had been all that a father could wish; loving, gentle,
tender, yet lion-like and courageous in action, with a powerful frame
like that of his father, and a modest, cheerful spirit like that of his
mother. No wonder that both parents doted on him as their noblest
terrestrial gift from God.
"And now," thought the crushed man, as he crouched on his mattress in
the hold, "he is gone,--snatched away before my eyes, suddenly and _for
ever_!"
It was when this thought recurred, again and again, that the cry of
agony burst from him, but it was invariably succeeded by the thought,
"No, not _for ever_. Orlando is with the Lord. We shall see him again,
Marie and I, when we reach the better land."
And then Zeppa would laugh lightly, but the laugh would merge again into
the bitter cry, as the thought would recur persistently--"gone--gone--
for ever!"
Oh! it was pitiful to see the strong man thus reduced, and reason
dethroned; and terrible were the pangs endured by the pirate chief as he
heard and saw; but he had now schooled himself to accept what he called
his "fate," and was able to maintain a calm, indifferent demeanour
before his men. Of course he never for a moment, during all that time,
thought of crying to God for mercy, for as long as a man continues to
ascribe his sins and their consequences to "fate," he is a rampant and
wilful, besides being an unphilosophical, rebel against his Maker.
At last, one afternoon, the peak of Sugar-loaf Island was descried on
the horizon, close to where the sun was descending amid a world of
golden clouds.
"Which side is the best for landing on!" asked the captain of his mate.
"The southern end, sir, which is steep and uninhabited," said Redford.
In half an hour they were under the shelter of the cliffs close to a
creek, at the inner end of which there was a morsel of flat beach.
Beyond this lay a richly wooded piece of land, which seemed to be
connected with a gorge among the hills.
"Lower the boat" said Rosco. "Have three men ready, and, when I call,
send them to the hold."
He descended as he spoke, and approached Zeppa, who looked at him with
unmistakable ferocity.
"You are going on shore," he said to the poor madman, who seemed neither
to comprehend nor to care for what he said.
"Once again," continued Rosco, after a pause, "I tell you that I had no
hand in the death of your son. My men, if they had their way, would
soon treat you as they treated him. They want to get rid of you, so, to
save your life, I must send you on shore. It is an island--inhabited.
I hope the natives will prove friendly to you. I hope you will get
well--in time. Do you understand what I say?"
Zeppa neither spoke nor moved, but continued to glare at the man whom he
evidently regarded as his deadliest foe.
A touch of pity seemed to influence the pirate captain, for he added in
a softer tone, "I would have taken you with me, if it had been possible,
and landed you on Ratinga. Perhaps that may yet be done. At any rate I
will return to this island--we shall meet again."
At last the madman spoke, in a harsh, grating tone,--"If we meet again,
you shall die!"
"I will do my best to avoid that fate," returned Rosco, with a touch of
sarcasm. "Ho! lads! come down."
Three powerful seamen, who had stood at the hatchway awaiting the
summons, descended, and at once laid hold of Zeppa. To their surprise,
he made no resistance. To every one but the captain he behaved liked a
lamb. Having been placed in the bottom of the boat alongside, with his
hands still bound, they shoved off, and Rosco, taking the tiller,
steered for the little creek.
The instant the keel touched the land two of the men jumped out and
hauled the boat ashore. The others assisted Zeppa to land. They led
him to a grassy bank, and bade him sit down. He obeyed meekly, and sat
there gazing at the ground as if unable to comprehend what was being
done. Rosco remained in the boat while a small box of biscuit was
conveyed to the spot and left at the side of Zeppa.
Then, removing his bonds, the men re-embarked and returned to the
schooner, which soon left that part of the island far astern. While it
receded, the pirate captain kept his glass fixed on the wretched man
whom he had thus forsaken. He saw that Zeppa never once turned his head
seaward, but, after gazing in a state of abstraction at the ground for
some time, rose and sauntered slowly inland. He did not appear to
observe the small supply of provision left for his use. With his chin
sunk upon his breast and his hands clasped behind him, he appeared to
wander aimlessly forward until his tall figure was lost to view among
the palm-groves that fringed the bottom of the mountain.
Leaving him there, we shall turn now to poor Orlando, who had been
tossed so unceremoniously into the sea. Probably the reader is aware
that the water of the southern seas is, in many parts, so much warmer
than that of our northern climes, that people may remain in it for hours
without being chilled. Hence natives of the coral islands are almost
amphibious, and our young hero, having spent much of his life among
these islands, could swim for the greater part of a day without becoming
exhausted.
When, therefore, he caught hold of the life-preserver, as stated in the
last chapter, he clung to it with some degree of confidence; but by
degrees the depressing influence of continued darkness began to tell
upon him, and he became less and less hopeful of deliverance. He
bethought him of the great distance they had sailed from Ratinga before
the mutiny broke out, and the utter impossibility of his being able to
swim back. Then he thought of sharks, and a nervous tendency to draw up
his legs and yell out affected him. But the thought of his father, and
of the probable fate that awaited him, at length overbore all other
considerations, and threw the poor boy into such a state of despair,
that he clung to the life-preserver for a long time in a state of
semi-stupor.
At last the day dawned faintly in the east and the glorious sun arose,
and Orley's heart was cheered. From earliest infancy he had been taught
to pray, so you may be sure he did not fail at this crisis in his young
life. But no answer was returned to his prayer until a great part of
the weary day had passed, and he had begun to look forward with dread to
the approaching night.
As evening advanced, exhaustion began to creep over him, and more than
once he felt himself slipping from his support under the influence of
sleep. The struggle to retain consciousness now became terrible. He
fought the battle in many ways. Sometimes he tried to shake himself up
by shouting. Then he again had recourse to prayer, in a loud voice.
Once he even attempted to sing, but his heart failed him, and at last he
could do nothing but grasp the life-buoy and cling with all the tenacity
of despair. And, oh! what thoughts of his mother came over him then!
It seemed as if every loving act and look of hers was recalled to his
mind. How he longed to clasp her once more in his arms and kiss her
before he died!
While these thoughts were gradually taking the form of a hazy dream, he
was rudely aroused by something grasping his hair.
Sharks, of course, leaped to his mind, and he struggled round with a
wild gurgling shriek, for the grasp partially sank him. Then he felt
himself violently dragged upwards, and his eyes encountered the dark
face and glittering eye-balls of a savage.
Then was Orley's cry of fear turned into a shout of joy, for in that
dark countenance he recognised the face of a friend. A canoe full of
Ratinga natives had nearly run him down. They had been absent on an
expedition, and were alike ignorant of the visit of the Free Rover and
the departure of Antonio Zeppa.
Their astonishment at finding Orlando in such a plight was only equalled
by their curiosity to know how he had come there; but they were
compelled to exercise patience, for the poor boy, overcome by mingled
joy and exhaustion, fell back in a swoon almost as soon as he was hauled
out of the water.
Need we describe the state into which poor Madame Zeppa was thrown when
Orlando returned to her?--the strange mingling of grief and terrible
anxiety about her husband's fate, with grateful joy at the restoration
of her son? We think not!
Ebony, the faithful and sable servitor of the family, got hold of
Orlando as soon as his poor mother would let him go, and hurried him off
to a certain nook in the neighbouring palm-grove where he was wont to
retire at times for meditation.
"You's quite sure yous fadder was not shooted?" he began, in gasping
anxiety, when he had forced the boy down on a grassy bank.
"I think not," replied Orley, with a faint smile at the negro's
eagerness. "But you must remember that I was almost unconscious from
the blow I received, and scarce knew what was done."
"But you no hear no shootin'?" persisted Ebony.
"No; and if any shots had been fired, I feel certain I should have heard
and remembered them."
"Good! den der's a chance yous fadder's alive, for if de no hab shooted
him at first, de no hab de heart to shoot him arterwards. No, he'd
smile away der wikitness; de _couldn'_ do it."
Orlando was unable to derive much comfort from this sanguine view of the
influence of his father's smile--bright and sweet though he knew it to
be--yet with the energy of youth he grasped at any straw of hope held
out to him. All the more that Ebony's views were emphatically backed up
by the chiefs Tomeo and Buttchee, both of whom asserted that Zeppa had
never failed in anything he had ever undertaken, and that it was
impossible he should fail now. Thus encouraged, Orlando returned home
to comfort his mother.