BEING thus committed by Goff's capture of the electric launch to what
promised to be the most chanceful of all the hazards of that strenuous
night, we lost no time in setting about it. With all the good will in
the world, the old skipper might not be able to do much for us in the
way of delaying the return of the mutineers to the _Andromeda_, and it
said itself that our one slender hope of success lay in capturing the
yacht while it was, in a certain measure, undefended.
Luckily, the launch's painter was long enough to serve as a tow line,
and with five of us towing, and Billy Grisdale steering against the
shoreward drag with an oar, we soon had the launch out of the danger
zone. Once fairly out of sight of the long-boat and the beach of peril,
we ran like flying fugitives, as jealous of the flitting moments as
a miser of his gold. To save the utmost number of these precious
moments, Van Dyck and Jerry Dupuyster dropped out of the towing rank
after we were well down toward the western end of the island and cut
across through the wood to arouse the camp, leaving four of us to take
the launch around to the point at which the embarkation could be most
quickly made.
Having but a comparatively short distance to go after Van Dyck and
Jerry left us, we arrived first at the agreed rendezvous, and I went
aboard the launch to try to determine how we were going to handle and
propel it with eighteen people crowded into its narrow limits. As Goff
had said, there were three good oars, and the broken halves of another;
but rowing from the thwarts, with the jammed lading we should have,
was clearly out of the question. And the alternative--two or three
of us standing up to use the oars as paddles--seemed to be quite as
clearly impracticable. If the launch would suffice to float eighteen of
us, trimming it as carefully as we could and sitting as tight as the
shipwrecked sailors in the old song, we could hardly ask more of it.
"Small room for so many of us, Mr. Preble--is that what is troubling
you?" asked the professor, standing by while Grey and Billy Grisdale
ran up to the camp in the glade to hasten the laggards.
"Little space, and still less tonnage," I said. "I'm doubtful if she
will float all of us at once."
"Those useless storage batteries," he pointed out; "they are quite
heavy, aren't they? Can't we lighten the boat by taking them out?"
It was a good thought, and I set about acting upon it. But the
batteries were built in snugly, and without a wrecking tool of some
sort they could not be dislodged. There was a locker under the stern
sheets, and rummaging in this for tools, I came upon a leather-cased
object which proved to be far more serviceable than any wrecking
crow-bar. It was an electric flashlight, and a touch of the switch
showed that its batteries were alive and in working order.
"Let's have a look at this driving mechanism before we jettison it," I
said; and the professor held the light while I looked to see what Van
Dyck's disabling rifle shot had done to the motor.
To my great joy I found that the bullet had not short-circuited
the motor, as we supposed; it had merely smashed the switch of
the controlling rheostat. Working rapidly while Sanford held the
flashlight, I was able to make a temporary repair that would enable us
to utilize the motor, and I was giving the propeller shaft a few trial
turns when Van Dyck and Jerry, and Grey and Billy came down to the
beach with the hastily gathered ship's company; sixteen of them and the
bull pup--for which latter Billy had been shrewd enough to make Edie
Van Tromp sponsor and special pleader.
As I had feared we should be, the eighteen of us and the dog were a
frightful overload for the small launch, this though Van Dyck had made
the fugitives leave every ounce of dead-weight behind in the camp.
In addition, there was honest terror to make the hurried embarkation
almost a panic. We had no assurance that the mutineer-pirates would
take our quiescence for granted; we knew they wouldn't if the loss of
the launch should be discovered. Every instant I was half expecting
to see the fat bandit and his mongrel crew burst out of the shadowy
wood to charge down upon us. In which event, there would be a bloody
massacre; it could hardly be less.
Fortunately, the attack did not materialize. In feverish haste we
packed the small boat, with beseechings to all and sundry to sit close
and sit tight, and even Ingerson, roused only a few minutes earlier
from his brutish sleep, helped as he could, planting himself stolidly
at the launch's gunwale and lending a hand like a man ashamed. When
we were ready to put to sea, and I had shoved off and climbed in
cautiously over the stern of the heavily laden boat, it became quickly
apparent that the rehabilitation of the motor was the only thing that
made the venture even tentatively possible. With the crowding there
would have been no slightest chance of using the oars in any manner
whatsoever.
I am quite sure that the memory of that perilous boat voyage across the
lagoon, out through the nearest break in the reef and along the seaward
edge of the barrier coral to the point at which we had our first sight
of the _Andromeda_ lying a bulking gray shadow in the light of a
gibbous moon which was just rising, will stand out clear-cut for every
soul of our little ship's company long after all other pictures have
grown dim.
Happily for us, the sea was as quiet as an inland lake; the open water
hardly less than that of the sheltered lagoon. In passing through the
gap in the reef the launch shipped a few bucketfuls, and for the moment
I thought we must founder--as we should have if any one of us had
stirred or grown panicky. But upon giving the silent little motor a bit
more current we weathered the passage, and out beyond, where the gentle
swell lifted and subsided evenly, we rode dry again.
It was after we had passed the miniature surf line and were creeping
eastward at the best speed I dared give the launch that I whispered to
Bonteck, who was crouching with me over the motor controls.
"How much have you told the others?" I asked.
"Nothing more than that we were going aboard the yacht, and that there
might be an attempt made to drive us off."
"You could scarcely have said less. Is Goff still holding the treasure
hunters, do you think?"
"Something is holding them. We'd be hearing from them if there wasn't."
"If we're lucky enough to reach the yacht without being seen and fired
upon, how are we going to get aboard--with this crowd?"
"The accommodation ladder is down."
"I know. But it's on the starboard side--toward the shore. We can't
rush it, not if there is any sort of defense--with the moon rising."
"Don't throw chocks under the wheels!" he bit out. "It isn't a thing to
be speculated upon; it's a thing to be done!"
Somehow, I felt better after he said that. This was the old
Bonteck--the Bonteck I knew best--coming to the front again, with the
indomitable spirit that had once made him a leader who never knew when
he was beaten--or rather a leader who refused to be beaten. Like all
the rest of us, he, too, had suffered his sea-change and was the better
and bigger man for it.
Why we were not seen from the deck of the yacht long before we could
come within striking distance was a circumstance for which we could not
at the moment account. As I have said, the night was crystal clear;
clearer, if possible, than at that earlier hour when the _Andromeda_
had come creeping up out of the east. Besides, the shrunken moon
was now something more than a hand's-breadth above the horizon, and
while its light was pale, it was enough to cast long shadows of the
motionless vessel far out toward us. Yet there was no stir on the
yacht's decks, and no alarm raised as our deeply laden boat stole along
the outer edge of the coral reef, giving the rocks only so much margin
as would serve to keep the low gunwales out of the back wash of the
slight swell breaking over the barrier.
As we drew nearer, with the motor running as silently as a murmur
of bat's wings, we saw the reason for our temporary immunity from
discovery. The treasure diggers were returning to the island beach
with their spoil, or rather they were coming and going in a double
procession, like an endless chain of roustabouts loading a Mississippi
River steamboat, and, quite naturally, all eyes on board the yacht
would be turned in that direction. A fire had been kindled on the beach
to give light for the loading of the gold bars into the long-boat, and
its red glow made boat and men and the backgrounding jungle stand out
with sharp distinctness. Conetta, squeezed in next to Van Dyck, leaned
over to whisper: "Are we back in the days of the old buccaneers? Have
we been only dreaming that we were living in the twentieth century?"
"What you are seeing is no dream," said Bonteck. "It's the real thing,
and you'll probably never look upon its like again." Then to me: "A
little more speed if she'll take it, Dick. They are rushing that
boat-loading business, and what we do will have to be done swiftly or
we'll be too late."
I gave the boat's motor another notch of the electric throttle, and the
bat's-wing murmur increased to a low humming. As if drawn by invisible
hands the laden launch approached the yacht's bow on the seaward side.
The need for haste was pricking me as sharply as it was Van Dyck, but
prudent care came first. As matters stood, we were as helpless as a
packed pleasure boat. One armed man at the yacht's rail could have held
us off, encumbered as we were. Until we could have room in which to
spread out a bit we were like a lot of shackled prisoners. So, when the
yacht's bulk came between us and the fire-lighted scene on the beach, I
switched the power off and let the launch drift by slow inchings until
Dupuyster, crouching in the bow, was fending with his hands to keep us
from bumping against the side of the _Andromeda_.
So far so good. We had made contact, as the modern militarists say,
but what the next move should be, I couldn't imagine. Above, and
overhanging us, since our point of contact was under the flaring
out-sheer of the yacht's bow, stretched the smooth white wall of the
_Andromeda's_ body plating, with the bulwarks and rail far beyond the
reach of the tallest of us. True, the accommodation ladder had been let
down on the starboard side, and was probably still down; but with the
moon rising, and the light of the beach fire playing full upon that
side of the yacht, it would be simply inviting defeat to try for that.
Fortunately for us, we had an inspired leader, and he knew exactly what
he meant to do. Amidships on our side of the yacht the davit falls by
which the long-boat had been lowered were still hanging as they had
been left when the boat was put overside. Van Dyck passed a whispered
word to Dupuyster to hand the launch along toward these hanging
tackles, and I held my breath. Quite possibly six of us--counting
Ingerson as one of the half-dozen--were young enough and agile enough
to climb the tackles one at a time, but I couldn't see the barest
chance of carrying out any such manoeuver as that with the overloaded
launch for a take-off.
"What's the notion?" I asked Van Dyck. "We can't board by way of those
boat tackles. We shall swamp the launch, as sure as fate!"
"Wait," he whispered back. "You've forgotten the coaling port."
His reminder was entirely justified. But if I had remembered the two
square openings, one on either side of the ship, through which the
bunkers were filled, I should have dismissed their possibilities at
once. The rawest landsman in our company would know that these openings
would be closed from the inside--closed and gasketed and bolted to make
them water-tight.
"But how----" I began; but Van Dyck interrupted quickly. We were
nearing the hanging tackles and he whispered his commands hurriedly.
"Here is the port," he said, pointing out the joint lines of the coal
opening. "Hand the launch back to it after I'm gone." And, as the boat
falls came within reach: "Catch the tackle and steady her, and be ready
to trim ship when I take my weight out."
Mechanically I grasped the ropes as we drifted up to them, and with the
cat-like agility of a practiced sailor, Van Dyck lifted himself gently
out of our cockleshell and went up the dangling tackle to disappear
silently over the yacht's rail. His purpose was evident enough now. He
was going to try to get below and open the fuel port for us.
Passing the word along to Dupuyster to hand the launch back to the
coaling port, I helped as I could with the blade of the broken oar.
Motionless presently under the outline of the square opening, we
entered upon a period of breathless suspense. Being on the seaward side
of things, we could not see how the long-boat loading was progressing,
but every moment I was expecting to hear the pop-pop of the gasoline
motor which would tell us that the gold robbers were putting off for
the yacht.
We could easily visualize the obstacles Bonteck would have to overcome
in trying to reach the other side of the bunker port. He must make his
way undiscovered to the engine-room hatch--which might or might not
be guarded--get into communication with the imprisoned engineers and
firemen and direct them to open the port for us. Past that, it was
entirely within the possibilities that certain tons of coal might have
to be moved before the port could be opened--an undertaking which would
devour still more time, and which could hardly be carried out without
giving the alarm to whatever ship's guard the fat pirate had left on
board.
Knowing all this, we waited in nerve-racking trepidation, hardly
daring to breathe. Once, while we hugged the side of the yacht and
held the launch immovable, there were footsteps on the deck above us.
Hearing the faint click of a pistol, I knew that Grey or Dupuyster
or Billy Grisdale was preparing for the worst, and I was in an agony
of apprehension lest one of them should fire before this last-resort
measure became actually necessary. But the footsteps died away, and
nothing happened.
All through this most trying wait, during which we could hear plainly
the noises on shore, the shouts and cries, the crackling of the fire,
and the men plunging through the bushes and dumping their burdens into
the long-boat, the fortitude of the women huddled in our frail craft
was heroic. There was never a whisper or a murmur, that I could hear.
Only once, Conetta, whose place in the launch, now that Bonteck was
gone, was next to mine, reached over and put a cold little hand in mine.
It was Jerry Dupuyster who gave us the first word of encouragement. At
the risk of losing his balance and going overboard he had laid an ear
against the _Andromeda's_ side plating. "They're working on it," was
the whispered word that came back to us in the breathless suspense; and
a little later the coaling port began to open by cautious inchings to
show us a widening breach in the yacht's side.
It may easily say itself that there were thrillings and
breath-catchings a-many to go with that desperate midnight unloading
of the crowded launch through the bunker opening in the _Andromeda's_
side. The coal port was fully man-head high above the water line, and
we had no anchorage save our finger holds upon the edge of the opening.
How we managed it I hardly know. The women had to be lifted and passed
up one by one, and I remember that it took two of us, Ingerson and
myself, to get Mrs. Van Tromp hoisted up to the rescuing hands thrust
out of the opening. I don't suppose she weighed much above two hundred
pounds--no great weight for two able-bodied men to handle--but our
insecure footing easily added another two hundred to the effort. While
we labored, the increasing shore clamor told us that our time was
growing critically short, and in the fiercer spurt of haste that ensued
we came within an ace of swamping our frail foothold.
"Quick!" said Bonteck, leaning far out to give me a hand when I was the
last man left in the launch. But I had another thing in mind.
"Elijah Goff has set a good example and I'm going to follow it," I
whispered hurriedly. "There is a chance that I can get this pushboat
back to the beach before the Frenchman finds out that it is gone. If I
succeed, you can take him unawares when he comes off to the yacht and
have the advantage of a complete surprise. I'll be with you when the
clock strikes--if I don't get killed too soon." And I shoved off before
he could reach down and grab me, as he tried to do.
With the silent electric drive turning at its slowest speed, I edged
the launch seaward, and after a little distance was gained, gave the
propeller its full power. In our many patrollings of the beach I had
marked an opening through the barrier reef at the extreme eastern end
of the island, and through this passage I presently drove the launch,
heading it down the lagoon toward the pirates' landing place.
Hugging the shore, I made the approach as cautiously as might be.
Everything favored the undertaking. The bonfire had been built a few
yards down-beach from the long-boat, and its blaze served to make
objects less easily discernible in the wan moonlight outside of the
ruddy zone of firelight. The treasure diggers were carrying the last
of the precious cargo down from the wood, and Le Gros himself was
directing its loading with many gesticulations and a babblement
of shrill oaths. Slowly the launch drifted up to the stern of the
long-boat and I crawled forward and made the painter fast. The thing
was done.
It was done none too soon. There was barely time for me to flatten
myself in the bow of the launch before the mutineers began to crowd
into the bigger boat. I had only time to make sure that Goff was not
among them before the popping engine set up its clamor, and the fat
chief flung himself down beside the tiller, so near that I could have
reached up and touched him.
"Shove off, then, _mes braves_!" he yelled; and in some confusion we
got away and headed for the yacht, the long-boat towing the presumably
empty electric launch.
Taking it as a matter of course that Van Dyck and the others, with the
help of Haskell and the liberated prisoners, had by this time gained
possession of the _Andromeda_, I had an exceedingly bad half-minute
when, as the long-boat lost way at the foot of the accommodation
ladder, Le Gros got up, stumbled forward, and climbed the ladder to
the yacht's deck, unopposed, and, taking his place at the rail, began
to screech out his orders to the boat's crew. What had happened during
my brief absence? Had somebody discovered the presence of our boarding
party and clapped the hatch down upon it before Van Dyck could lead it
out of the bunker hold? It looked very much that way.
Meanwhile, my own situation had suddenly become embarrassing, not
to say perilous. I had confidently expected to see the fat villain
surrounded and overpowered the moment he set foot on the yacht's deck.
Since nothing of the kind had taken place, I knew it could be only a
few minutes at the farthest before I should be discovered and either
summarily knocked on the head or thrown to the sharks--or both. Yet
there was nothing to be done, or if there were, it didn't occur to me,
though, as the dullest imagination would prefigure, I was trying mighty
hard to make it occur.
While I crouched and cowered in the bottom of the launch, endeavoring
to make myself look as much as possible like a heap of cast-off
clothes, the unloading of the gold bars was begun, with the fat fiend
leaning over the yacht's rail to shrill curses at his men. This time
there was no roustabout procession. _Sacré_-ing and swearing like a man
possessed, Le Gros got his crew strung out in a long line leading from
the accommodation grating up the ladder and forward to some point on
the yacht's fore-deck, and along this line the gold ingots were passed
from hand to hand. Judging from the internal thunderings that began
when the mounting stream of heavy chunks of metal got fairly in motion,
I gathered that the fore-hold was to be made to serve as the pirates'
strong-room. And still our attacking party, if we had one, made no move.
I was sweating like a patient in the hot room of a Turkish bath when
the last of the apparently interminable string of gold bars went up the
ladder and the fat bandit gave the order which proved his calculated
perfidy, and, incidentally, let me know that my time was come.
"Br-ring dose boat to ze davit and 'oist dem aboard!" he commanded;
and then, as if this final order had been the signal for which it had
been waiting, pandemonium broke loose on the _Andromeda's_ fore-deck.
A confused clamor of shots, yells, curses and bludgeon blows rose upon
the midnight air, and, hasten as I might and did, the battle was as
good as fought and won before I could clamber over the long-boat and
dart up the ladder and hurl myself into it.
Upon reaching the deck I saw that I might have spared myself a large
share of the anxieties if I had had a little more confidence in Van
Dyck's gift of leadership. Like a good general he had been merely
waiting for the propitious moment. He had posted his force, which
included, besides the engineers and firemen, a good handful of the
Provincetown Portuguese who had yielded only to force of numbers when
the mutineers took the yacht, at various points of advantage, and
choosing the instant when, with its job completed, the long-boat's
crew was hurrying forward to man the hand winch and get the anchor up,
the yacht's searchlight was turned on and the rush was made. When I
got in, the _Andromeda's_ fore-deck was--well, not exactly a shambles,
perhaps, but something resembling a bull-ring after the banderilleros
and picadores and chulos have been tossed hither and yon and butted and
horned into cowering submission, with Van Dyck just tackling the fat
chief in a whirlwind grapple that brought assailed and assailant to the
deck with a crash that was like the fall of a house.
"What have you done with Captain Goff?" bellowed the victor in
the grapple, with his knee in the fat one's stomach; and from the
gurgling sounds that issued we gathered that the stout-hearted old
Gloucesterman had been made to pay a bitter penalty for his loyalty to
us.
"'Ee is mak' us to deeg wiz ze peek-axe in ze wr-rong places!" gasped
the fat bandit in extenuation.
Van Dyck got up and turned Le Gros over to Haskell and two of the
Portuguese, who proceeded to tie him and truss him like an enormous
fowl.
Bonteck wheeled upon me.
"Dick, take a couple of our men in the launch and go after the old
skipper. If they've killed him, I'm going to be judge, jury and sheriff
for this fat devil and every man who stood in with him!" he raged. And
I went quickly, taking two of Haskell's men to help.
Fortunately for Le Gros and his accomplices, upon whom I am sure Van
Dyck would have wreaked a swift and terrible vengeance, Goff was not
dead. So far from it, when we reached the inland glade, where the
forgotten ship's lantern still spread its little circle of yellow
light, we found the old man on his knees in one of the numerous shallow
holes dug by the gold-seekers, clawing the earth with his bare hands
like a crazy old marmot. He had been brutally mishandled and was
covered with blood, but when we laid hold of him and dragged him out of
his burrow, he fought us madly to get back.
"Mr. Van Dyck's gold--it's gone, slick and clean!" he croaked. "I
cal'late I've got to find it afore I c'n go aboard."
My two helpers took his mutterings for the ravings of a man who had
been beaten and left for dead--as they were in good part--and among us
we pacified him and got him down to the launch. Van Dyck was at the
foot of the accommodation ladder when we reached the yacht, so I had a
chance to give him a cautionary word.
"Keep the old man quiet until he comes to himself," I warned. "If you
don't, he'll publish your little gold-bar plot to the whole ship's
company," and I briefed the pathetic little scene we had broken in upon
when we found Goff.
"Plucky old duffer!" said Bonteck warmly, when Quinby and his mate had
half led and half carried Goff up the ladder. "I've been telling you
all along that he was the right sort. But come aboard. We're going to
hold a drumhead court-martial and try these amateur pirates right here
and now."
"You don't need me for that," I objected. "Let me have a couple of the
Portuguese sailormen and I'll take the long-boat and go around to our
abandoned camp for the dunnage we left behind."
"Oh, damn the dunnage--let it go!" he broke out impatiently; but he
changed his tune when I reminded him that since the abandoned luggage
was made up chiefly of the women's steamer trunks, it would be wise for
us to salvage it if only in the interests of peace and quietness.
"All right; go to it," he yielded; and after I had picked my crew of
two, I took the long-boat and set about the salvaging.
It was a short horse, soon curried. The gasoline boat was fairly
speedy, and the run down the lagoon was quickly made. With two huskies
to do the porterage, little time was lost in stripping the camp of
everything that was worth carrying away, and well within the hour we
were back at the _Andromeda's_ accommodation ladder. Waiting only long
enough to see the trunks going overside in a whip tackle that had been
rigged for the purpose, I went aboard and found that the sea court had
been in session, that the yacht's anchor was catted, and that the stage
was set for the final act in the drama of the night of alarms.
"We were waiting for you--or rather for that long-boat," said Van Dyck,
after I had climbed to the bridge from which he was directing the
luggage bestowal.
"What are you going to do?" I asked.
"Wait and you will see," he replied; and then he told me the findings
of the drumhead court. The mutineers, with Le Gros for their leader,
were members of a Central American revolutionary junta which had its
headquarters in New York. At first, the intention had been to capture
the _Andromeda_ and use her as a means of transportation for arms and
ammunition, and, as Goff had told us, one cargo of the munitions had
already been carried and landed. But the secret of Van Dyck's buried
gold--which, as it appeared, was no secret at all so far as Lequat and
the bandit chief were concerned--had brought them back to the island.
"Goff says they made no bones about telling him that they were killing
time in the ammunition shipment, with the cold-blooded purpose of
letting us starve in the interval," Van Dyck said in conclusion. "It
was not Le Gros's intention to give us any provisions at all when
we were marooned, but Goff, who was shrewd enough not to make any
resistance when he found it would be useless, overpersuaded him."
"How could he do that?"
"Very easily. He told Le Gros about my silly plot, and showed him
how, if that plot were carried out exactly as it had been planned,
the secret of the real mutiny could be kept indefinitely. He argued,
quite plausibly, as you will see, that in due course of time I would be
obliged to confess my plot, in which case, even if we should chance to
be rescued by some passing ship, the onus would still rest upon me."
I laughed. "The old skipper is something of a plotter himself, and we
all owe him a lot more than we can ever pay. What are you going to do
to these pirates?"
"I gave Gustave his choice; to be landed, with his fellow bandits, at
the nearest port of call where his country has a consul, or to be set
ashore here on the island."
"Good Lord!" I ejaculated. "Surely it didn't take him long to decide
against the excellent chance of starving to death in this horrible
death trap!"
Van Dyck's smile was grim.
"No; the deciding part of it didn't take him long." He led me to the
starboard bridge-end and pointed to the accommodation ladder, where
the mutineers, in single file, and each man carrying his allotment
of provisions in a sack, were descending to take their places in the
long-boat--this under an armed guard with Haskell and Quinby in command.
"They know the tender mercies of their countrymen," Bonteck went on,
"and they elected, very promptly, to take the chance they made us take,
rather than to be turned over to the authorities. The name of the
island fits, after all; it is still 'Pirates' Hope,' you see. Just the
same, I'll drop a word somewhere to have them picked up after they've
served their time for stealing my yacht."
The anchor, broken out by the hand capstan, was apeak, and the
blowers were roaring in the _Andromeda's_ tall funnels when the
long-boat returned, to be quickly hoisted to its chocks on the roof
of the deck-house. Van Dyck had the wheel, and at his signal to the
engine-room the big propellers began to thrash in the backward motion
and the yacht drew away from her late anchorage. I stood by until the
miniature liner was set upon her course and was leaving the island
astern. Then I took the wheel forcibly out of Bonteck's hands.
"You've had it harder than any of us, and I couldn't go to sleep if my
life depended upon it," I told him. "If you'll give me the course, I'll
take the first trick and you can relieve me after you've had your forty
winks."
He protested generously, of course, but yielded at last when he found
me obstinate. After he left me, I signaled the engine-room for full
speed ahead and a few minutes later turned the wheel over to one of our
Portuguese loyalists whom Van Dyck had sent up to act as my steersman.
Freed thus from the mechanical duty, I took time for a backward look.
The white ribbon of beach, with its dot of fire surrounded by a huddle
of motionless figures, had disappeared, and the island itself was
becoming a mere blot dimly outlined in the pale moonlight. It was
like the waving of the magic wand in an extravaganza. By a few score
revolutions of the _Andromeda's_ twin screws we had been whisked out
of the age of romance and daring-do to be set down once more among the
common-places--and conventions--of the twentieth Christian century.