AN UNEXPECTED MEETING--DOINGS ON THE ISLE OF PALMS--GASCOYNE'S DESPAIR.
It was not without some difficulty that the boat reached the shore after
the squall burst upon them. On landing, the party observed, dark though
it was, that their leader's countenance wore an expression of the
deepest anxiety; yet there were lines upon it that indicated the raging
of conflicting passions which he found it difficult to restrain.
"I fear me," said Ole Thorwald, in a troubled voice, "that our young
friend Henry Stuart is in danger."
"Lost!" said Gascoyne, in a voice so low and grating that it startled
his hearers.
"Say not so," said Mr. Mason, earnestly. "He is a brave and a clever
youth, and knows how to manage the cutter until we can row back and
fetch him ashore."
"Row back!" exclaimed Gascoyne, almost fiercely. "Think you that I would
stand here idly if our boat could live in such a sea as now rolls on the
rocks? The Wasp must have been washed over the reef by this time. She
may pass the next without being dashed to pieces, but she is too rickety
to stand the third. No, there is no hope!"
While he spoke the missionary's eyes were closed, and his lips moved as
if in silent prayer. Seizing Gascoyne nervously by the arm, he said;
"You cannot tell that there is no hope. That is known only to One who
has encouraged us to 'hope against hope.' Henry is a stout youth and a
good swimmer. He may succeed in clinging to some portion of the wreck."
"True, true," cried Gascoyne, eagerly grasping at this hope, slight
though it was. "Come; we waste time. There is but one chance. The
schooner must be secured without delay. Lads, you will follow Mr.
Thorwald. Do whatever he bids you. And now," he added, leading the
merchant aside, "the time for action has come. I will conduct you to a
certain point on the island, where you will remain concealed among the
bushes until I return to you."
"And suppose you never return to us, Mister Gascoyne!" said Ole, who
regarded every act of the pirate captain with suspicion.
"Then you will remain there till you are tired," answered Gascoyne, with
some asperity, "and after that do what you please."
"Well, well, I am in your power," retorted the obdurate Norseman; "make
what arrangements you please. I will carry them out until--"
Here Ole thought fit to break off, and Gascoyne, without taking notice
of the remark, went on in a few hurried sentences to explain as much of
his plan as he thought necessary for the guidance of his suspicious
ally.
This done, he led the whole party to the highest part of the island, and
made them lie in ambush there while he went forward alone to
reconnoiter. The night was admirably suited to their purpose. It was so
dark that it was difficult to perceive objects more than a few yards
off, and the wind howled so furiously among the palms that there was no
danger of being overheard in the event of their speaking too loud or
stumbling over fallen trees.
Gascoyne, who knew every rock and tree on the Isle of Palms, went
rapidly down the gentle slope that intervened between him and the harbor
in which the Foam lay at anchor. Dark though it was, he could see the
taper masts and yards of his vessel traced dimly against the sky.
The pirate's movements now became more cautious. He stepped slowly, and
paused frequently to listen. At last he went down on his hands and knees
and crept forward for a considerable distance in that position, until he
reached a ledge of rocks that overhung the shore of the bay. Here he
observed an object like a round lump of rock, lying a few yards before
him, on a spot where he was well aware no such rock had previously
existed. It moved after a moment or two. Gascoyne knew that there were
no wild animals of any kind on the island, and, therefore, at once
jumped to the conclusion that this must needs be a human being of some
sort. Drawing his knife he put it between his teeth, and creeping
noiselessly towards the object in question, laid his strong hand on the
neck of the horrified Will Corrie.
That adventurous and desperate little hero having lain sleepless and
miserable at the feet of Alice until the squall blew the tent over their
heads, got up and assisted Montague to erect it anew in a more sheltered
position, after which, saying that he meant to take a midnight ramble on
the shore to cool his fevered brow, he made straight for the sea,
stepped knee-deep into the raging surf, and bared his breast to the
furious blast.
This cooled him so effectually that he took to running along shore in
order to warm himself. Then it occurred to him that the night was
particularly favorable for a sly peep at the pirates. Without a moment's
hesitation, he walked and stumbled towards the high part of the island,
at which he arrived just half an hour before Gascoyne reached it. He had
seen nothing, however, and was on the point of advancing still further
in his explorations, when he was discovered as we have seen.
Gascoyne instantly turned the boy over on his back, and nipped a
tremendous yell in the bud by grasping his wind-pipe.
"Why, Corrie!" exclaimed Gascoyne, in surprise, at the same time
loosening his grip, though still holding the boy down.
"Ah! you villain, you rascally pirate. _I_ know you; I--"
The pipe was gently squeezed at this point, and the sentence abruptly
cut short.
"Come, boy, you must not speak so loud. Enemies are near. If you don't
behave I'll have to throttle you. I have come from Sandy Cove with a
party to save you and your friends."
Corrie did not believe a word of this. He knew, or at least he supposed,
that Gascoyne had left the schooner, not having seen him since they
sailed from Sandy Cove; but he knew nothing of the manner in which he
had been put ashore.
"It won't do, Gascoyne," gasped poor Corrie, on being permitted again to
use his windpipe. "You may kill me, but you'll never cow me. I don't
believe you, you cowardly monster."
"I'll have to convince you then," said Gascoyne, suddenly catching the
boy in his arms, and bearing him swiftly away from the spot.
Corrie struggled like a hero, as he was. He tried to shout, but
Gascoyne's right hand again squeezed the windpipe; he attempted to bite,
but the same hand easily kept the refractory head in order; he
endeavored to kick and hit, but Gascoyne's left hand encircled him in
such a comprehensive embrace, and pressed him so powerfully to his
piratical bosom, that he could only wriggle. This he did without
ceasing, until Gascoyne suddenly planted him on his feet, panting and
disheveled, before the astonished faces of Frederick Mason and Ole
Thorwald.
It is not necessary to describe in detail the surprise of all then and
there assembled, the hurried conversation, and the cry of joy with which
the missionary received the information that Alice was safe and within
five minutes' walk of the spot on which he stood. Suffice it to say that
Corrie was now convinced of the good faith of Gascoyne, whom he at once
led, along with Mr. Mason, to the tent where Alice and her friends
slept, leaving Thorwald and his men where they were to await further
orders.
The cry of wild delight with which Alice sprang into her father's arms
might have been destructive of all Gascoyne's plans had not the wind
carried it away from the side of the island where the pirate schooner
lay. There was now no time to be lost. After the first embrace, and a
few hurried words of blessing and thanksgiving, the missionary was
summoned to a consultation.
"I will join you in this enterprise, Mr. Gascoyne," said Montague. "I
believe what you say to be true; besides, the urgency of our present
danger leaves me no room for choice. I am in your power. I believe that
in your present penitent condition you are willing to enable us to
escape from your former associates; but I tell you frankly that, if
ever I have an opportunity to do so, I will consider it my duty to
deliver you over to justice."
"Time is too precious to trifle thus," said Gascoyne, hurriedly. "I have
already said that I will deliver myself up--not, however, to _you_, but
to Mr. Mason--after I have rescued the party, so that I am not likely to
claim any consideration from you on account of the obligation which you
seem to think my present act will lay you under. But you must not
accompany me just now."
"Why not?"
"Because your presence may be required here. You and Mr. Mason will
remain where you are to guard the girls, until I return. All that I have
to ask is, that you be in readiness to follow me at a moment's notice
when the time comes."
"Of course what you arrange _must_ be agreed to," said Montague.
"Come, Corrie, I will require your assistance. Follow me," said the
pirate captain, as he turned and strode rapidly away.
Corrie was now thoroughly convinced of the good intentions of Gascoyne;
so he followed him without hesitation. Indeed, now that he had an
opportunity of seeing a little more of his gigantic companion, he began
to feel a strange kind of pity and liking for him, but he shuddered and
felt repelled when he thought of the human blood in which his hands must
have been imbrued; for as yet he had not heard of the defense of himself
which Gascoyne had made in the widow's cottage. But he had not much time
to think; for in a few minutes they came upon Ole Thorwald and his
party.
"Follow me quietly," said Gascoyne. "Keep in single file and close
together; for if we are separated here, we shall not easily get
together again."
Leading them over the same ground that he had formerly traversed,
Gascoyne conducted his party to the shores of the bay where the Foam lay
at anchor. Here he made them keep close in the bushes, with directions
to be ready to act the instant he should call on them to do so.
"But it would comfort me mightily, Mister Gascoyne," said Thorwald, in a
somewhat troubled voice, "if you would give some instructions or advice
as to what I am to do in the event of your plans miscarrying. I care
naught for a fair fight in open field; but I do confess to a dislike of
being brought to the condition of _not knowing what to do._"
"It won't matter much what you do, Mr. Thorwald," said Gascoyne,
gravely. "If my plans miscarry, you will be killed every soul of you.
You'll not have the ghost of a chance of escaping."
Ole opened his eyes uncommonly wide at this.
"Well," said he, at length, with a sigh of resignation, "it's some
comfort to know that one can only be killed once."
Gascoyne now proceeded leisurely to strip off his shirt, thereby
displaying a chest, back, and arms in which the muscles were developed
to an extent that might have made Hercules himself envious. Kicking off
his boots, he reduced his clothing to a pair of loose knee-breeches.
"'Tis a strange time to indulge in a cold bath!" murmured Thorwald,
whose state of surprise was beginning to render him desperately
ironical.
Gascoyne took no notice of the remark, but calling Corrie to his side,
said:
"Can you swim, boy?"
"Yes, like a duck."
"Can you distinguish the stem of the schooner?"
"I can."
"Listen, then. When you see a white sheet waved over the taffrail, throw
off your jacket and shirt and swim out to the schooner. D'ye
understand?"
"Perfectly," replied the boy, whose decision of manner and action grew
with the occasion.
"And now, Mr. Thorwald," said Gascoyne, "I shall swim off to the
schooner. If, as I expect, the men are on shore in a place that I wot
of, and with which you have nothing to do, well and good. I will send a
boat for you with muffled oars; but, mark you, let there be no noise in
embarking or in getting aboard the schooner. If, on the other hand, the
men are aboard, I will bring a boat to you myself, in which case silence
will not be so necessary, and your fighting powers shall be put to the
proof."
Without waiting for a reply, the pirate captain walked down the sloping
beach and waded slowly into the dark sea. His motions were so noiseless
and stealthy that those who watched him with eager eyes could only
discern a figure moving gradually away from them and melting into the
thick gloom.
Fierce though the storm was outside, the sheltered waters of the bay
were almost calm, so that Gascoyne had no difficulty in swimming off to
the Foam without making any noise. As he drew near, a footstep on the
deck apprised him that there was at least a watch left. A few seconds
later a man leaned over the low bulwarks of the vessel on the side on
which the swimmer approached.
"Hist! what sort o' brute's that!" he exclaimed, seizing a handspike
that chanced to be near him and hurling it at the head of the brute.
The handspike fell within a yard of Gascoyne, who, keeping up his
supposed character, made a wild splash with his arms and dived like a
genuine monster of the deep. Swimming under water as vigorously as he
could, he endeavored to gain the other side of the vessel before he came
up; but, finding that this was impossible, he turned on his back and
allowed himself to rise gently until nothing but his face appeared above
the surface. By this means he was enabled to draw a full breath, and
then, causing himself to sink, he swam under water to the other side of
the schooner, and rose under her quarter.
Here he paused a minute to breathe, then glided with noiseless strokes
to the main chains, which he seized hold of, and, under their shelter,
listened intently for at least five minutes.
Not a sound was to be heard on board save the footsteps of the solitary
watchman who slowly paced the deck, and now and then beguiled the tedium
of his vigil by humming a snatch of a sea song.
Gascoyne now felt assured that the crew were ashore, enjoying
themselves, as they were wont to do, in one of the artificial caverns
where their goods were concealed. He knew, from his own former
experience, that they felt quite secure when once at anchor in the
harbor of the Isle of Palms; it was therefore probable that all of them
had gone ashore except this man, who had been left to take care of the
vessel.
Gascoyne now drew himself slowly up into the chains, and remained there
for a few seconds in a stooping position, keeping his head below the
level of the bulwarks while he squeezed the water out of his lower
garments. This done, he waited until the man on deck came close to where
he stood, when he sprang on him with the agility of a tiger, threw him
down, and placed his hand on his mouth.
"It will be your wisest course to be still, my man," said Gascoyne,
sternly. "You know who I am, and you know what I can do when occasion
requires. If you shout when I remove my hand from your mouth, you die."
The man seemed to be quite aware of the hopelessness of his case; for he
quietly submitted to have his mouth bound with a handkerchief, and his
hands and feet tied with cords. A few seconds sufficed to accomplish
this, after which Gascoyne took him up in his arms as if he had been a
child, carried him below, and laid him on one of the cabin lockers.
Then, dragging a sheet off one of the beds, he sprang up on deck and
waved it over the stern.
"That's the signal for me," said Corrie, who had watched for it eagerly.
"Now, Uncle Ole, mind you obey orders: you are rather inclined to be
mutinous, and that won't pay to-night. If you don't look out, Gascoyne
will pitch into you, old boy."
Master Corrie indulged in these impertinent remarks while he was
stripping off his jacket and shirt. The exasperated Thorwald attempted
to seize him by the neck and shake him, but Corrie flung his jacket in
his face, and sprang down the beach like a squirrel. He had wisdom
enough, however, to say and do all this in the quietest possible manner;
and when he entered the sea he did so with as much caution as Gascoyne
himself had done, insomuch that he seemed to melt away like a
mischievous sprite.
In a few minutes he was alongside of the Foam; caught a rope that was
thrown to him, and quickly stood on the deck.
"Well done, Corrie. Clamber over the stern, and slide down by that rope
into the little boat that floats there. Take one of the oars, which you
will find muffled, and scull to the shore, and bring off Thorwald and
his men. And, hark'ee, boy, bring off my shirt and boots. Now, look
alive; your friend Henry Stuart's life may depend on it."
"Henry's life!" exclaimed Corrie, in amazement.
"Come, no questions. His life may depend on your promptitude."
Corrie wanted no stronger motive for speed. In a state of surprise
mingled with anxious forebodings, he leaped over the stern and was gone
in a moment.
The distance between the shore and the schooner being very short, the
boat was quickly alongside, and the party under stout Ole Thorwald took
possession of their prize.
Meanwhile Gascoyne had set the jib and fore-topsail, which latter had
been left hanging loose from the yard, so that by hauling out the sheets
slowly and with great care, the thing was done without noise. The cable
was then cut, the boat manned, and the Foam glided out of the bay like a
phantom ship.
The moment she got beyond the shelter of the palms her sails filled, and
in a few minutes she was rushing through the water at the rate of ten or
eleven knots an hour.
Gascoyne stood at the helm and guided her through the intricacies of
the dangerous coast with consummate skill, until he reached the bay
where the wrecked ship lay. Here he lay to, and sent the boat ashore for
the party that had been left at the tent. They were waiting; anxiously
for his return. Great, therefore, was their astonishment when he sent
them a message inviting them to go on board the Foam!
The instant they embarked, Gascoyne put about, and, ordering the
mainsail to be hoisted, and one of the reefs to be shaken out of the
topsail, ran round to the windward of the island, with the foam flying
in great masses on either side of the schooner, which lay over so much
before the gale that it was scarcely possible to stand on the deck.
The manner in which the pirate captain now acted was calculated to fill
the hearts of those whose lives seemed to hang in his hands with alarm
if not dismay. His spirit seemed to be stirred within him. There was
indeed no anger, either in his looks or tones; but there was a stern
fixedness of purpose in his manner and aspect which aroused, yet
repelled, the curiosity of those around him. Even Ole Thorwald and
Montague agreed that it was best to let him alone; for although they
might overcome his great physical force by the united strength of
numbers, the result would certainly be disastrous, as he was the only
one who knew the locality.
On reaching the windward side of the island he threw the schooner up
into the wind, and ordered the large boat to be hoisted out and put in
the water. Gascoyne issued his commands in a quick, loud voice, and Ole
shook his head as if he felt that this overbearing manner proved what he
had expected; namely, that when the pirate got aboard his own vessel,
he would come out in his true colors.
Whatever men felt or thought, there was no hesitation in rendering
prompt obedience to that voice. The large boat was hoisted off the brass
pivot gun amidships and lowered into the water. Then Gascoyne gave the
helm to one of the men, with directions to hold it exactly as it then
lay, and, hurrying down below, speedily returned, to the astonishment of
every one, with a man in his arms.
"Now, Connway," said Gascoyne, as he cut the cords that bound the man
and removed the handkerchief from his mouth, "I'm a man of few words,
and to-night have less time than usual to speak. I set you free. Get
into that boat; one oar will suffice to guide it; the wind will drive it
to the island. I send it as a parting gift to Manton and my former
associates. It is large enough to hold them all. Tell them that I repent
of my sins, and the sooner they do the same the better. I cannot now
undo the evil I have done them. I can only furnish the means of escape,
so that they may have time and opportunity to mend their ways; and,
hark'ee, the sooner they leave this place the better. It will no longer
be a safe retreat. Farewell!"
While he was speaking he led the man by the arm to the side of the
schooner, and constrained him to get into the boat. As he uttered the
last word he cut the rope that held it, and let it drop astern.
Gascoyne immediately resumed his place at the helm, and once more the
schooner was running through the water, almost gunwale under, towards
the place where the Wasp had been wrecked.
Without uttering a word of explanation, and apparently forgetful of
every one near him, the pirate continued during the remainder of that
night to steer the Foam out and in among the roaring breakers, as if he
were trying how near he could venture to the jaws of destruction without
actually plunging into them. As the night wore on the sky cleared up,
and the scene of foaming desolation that was presented by the breakers
in the midst of which they flew, was almost enough to appal the stoutest
heart.
The crew looked on in moody silence. They knew that their lives were
imperiled; but they felt that they had no resource! No one dared to
address the silent, stern man who stood like an iron statue at the helm
the whole of that night. Towards morning, he steered out from among the
dangerous coral reefs, and ran south straight before the wind.
Then Corrie summoned up courage, and, going aft to Gascoyne, looked up
in his face and said:
"You're searching for Henry, I think?"
"Yes, boy, I am," answered the pirate, and a gleam of kindliness crossed
his face for a moment; but it was quickly chased away by a look of deep
anxiety, and Corrie retired.
Now that the danger of the night was over, all the people on board
became anxious to save Henry, or ascertain his fate; but although they
searched the ocean far and wide, they saw not a vestige of him or of the
Wasp. During this period Gascoyne acted like a bewildered man. He never
quitted the helm night or day. He only ate a biscuit now and then when
it was brought to him, and he did not answer when he was spoken to.
Every one felt sympathy with the man who seemed to mourn so deeply for
the lost youth.
At last Montague went up to him and said, in a gentle voice: "I fear
that Henry is gone."
Gascoyne started as if a sword had pierced him. For one moment he looked
fiercely in the young captain's face; then an expression of the deepest
sadness overspread his countenance as he said: "Do you think there is no
hope?"
"None," said Montague. "I grieve to give pain to one who seems to have
been an intimate friend of the lad."
"He was the son of my oldest and best friend. What would you advise, Mr.
Montague?"
"I think--that is to say, don't _you_ think--that it would be as well to
put about now?"
Gascoyne's head dropped on his chest, and for some moments he stood
speechless, while his strong hands played nervously with the tiller that
they had held so long and so firmly. At last he looked up and said, in a
low voice: "I resign the schooner into your hands, Mr. Montague."
Then he went slowly below, and shut himself up in his cabin.
Montague at once put down the helm, and, pointing the schooner's prow
northward, steered for the harbor of Sandy Cove.