"Thus are all our hopes wrecked," said Philip, mournfully; "what chance
have we now of escaping from this little tyrant?"
"Chances turn up," replied Krantz; "at present, the prospect is not very
cheering. Let us hope for the best. I have an idea in my head which
may probably be turned to some account," continued Krantz, "as soon as
the little man's fury is over."
"Which is?"
"That, much as he likes your wife, there is something which he likes
quite as well--money. Now, as we know where all the treasure is
concealed, I think he may be tempted to offer us our liberty, if we were
to promise to put it into his possession."
"That is not impossible. Confound that little malignant wretch
Schriften; he certainly is not, as you say, of this world. He has been
my persecutor through life, and appears to act from an impulse not his
own."
"Then must he be part and portion of your destiny. I'm thinking whether
our noble commandant intends to leave us without anything to eat or
drink."
"I should not be surprised; that he will attempt my life I am convinced,
but not that he can take it; he may, however, add to its sufferings."
As soon as the commandant had recovered from his fury, he ordered
Schriften in, to be examined more particularly; but, after every search
made for him, Schriften was nowhere to be found. The sentry at the gate
declared that he had not passed: and a new search was ordered, but in
vain. Even the dungeons and galleries below were examined, but without
success.
"Can he be locked up with the other prisoners?" thought the commandant:
"impossible--but I will go and see."
He descended and opened the door of the dungeon, looked in, and was
about to return without speaking, when Krantz said, "Well, signor, this
is kind treatment, after having lived so long and so amicably together;
to throw us into prison merely because a fellow declares that we are not
what we represented ourselves to be; perhaps you will allow us a little
water to drink?"
The commandant, confused by the extraordinary disappearance of Schriften
hardly knew how to reply. He at last said in a milder tone than was to
be anticipated, "I will order them to bring some, signor."
He then closed the door of the dungeon and disappeared.
"Strange," observed Philip, "he appears more pacified already." In a
few minutes the door was again opened, and Pedro came in with a chatty
of water.
"He has disappeared like magic, signors, and is nowhere to be found. We
have searched everywhere, but in vain."
"Who?--the little old seaman?"
"Yes, he whom you kicked as you were led to prison. The people all say,
that it must have been a ghost. The sentry declares that he never left
the fort, nor came near him; so how he has got away is a riddle, which I
perceive has frightened our commandant not a little."
Krantz gave a long whistle as he looked at Philip.
"Are you to have charge of us, Pedro?"
"I hope so."
"Well, tell the commandant that when he is ready to listen to me, I have
something of importance to communicate."
Pedro went out.
"Now, Philip, I can frighten this little man into allowing us to go
free, if you will consent to say that you are not the husband of Amine."
"That I cannot do, Krantz. I will not utter such a falsehood."
"I was afraid so, and yet it appears to me that we may avail ourselves
of duplicity to meet cruelty and injustice. Unless you do as I propose,
I hardly know how I can manage it; however, I will try what I can do."
"I will assist you in every way, except disclaiming my wife: that I
never will do."
"Well, then, I will see if I can make up a story that will suit all
parties: let me think."
Krantz continued musing as he walked up and down, and was still occupied
with his own thoughts, when the door opened, and the commandant made his
appearance.
"You have something to impart to me, I understand--what is it?"
"First, sir, bring that little wretch down here and confront him with
us."
"I see no occasion for that," replied the commandant; "what, sir, may
you have to say?"
"Do you know who you have in your company when you speak to that
one-eyed deformity?"
"A Dutch sailor, I presume."
"No--a spirit--a demon--who occasioned the loss of the vessel; and who
brings misfortune wherever he appears."
"Holy Virgin! what do you tell me, signor?"
"The fact, Signor Commandant. We are obliged to you for confining us
here, while he is in the fort; but beware for yourself."
"You are laughing at me."
"I am not; bring him down here. This noble gentleman has power over
him. I wonder, indeed, at his daring to stay while he is so near; he
has on his heart that which will send him trembling away. Bring him
down here, and you shall at once see him vanish with curses and
screams."
"Heaven defend us!" cried the commandant, terrified.
"Send for him now, signor."
"He is gone--vanished--not to be found!"
"I thought as much," replied Philip, significantly.
"He is gone--vanished--you say. Then, commandant, you will probably
apologise to this noble gentleman for your treatment of him, and permit
us to return to our former apartments. I will there explain to you this
most strange and interesting history."
The commandant, more confused than ever, hardly knew how to act. At
last he bowed to Philip, and begged that he would consider himself at
liberty; "and," continued he to Krantz, "I shall be most happy at an
immediate explanation of this affair, for everything appears so
contradictory."
"And must, until it is explained. I will follow you into your own room;
a courtesy you must not expect from my noble friend, who is not a little
indignant at your treatment of him."
The commandant went out, leaving the door open. Philip and Krantz
followed: the former retiring to his own apartment; the latter, bending
his steps after the commandant to his sitting-room. The confusion which
whirled in the brain of the commandant made him appear most ridiculous.
He hardly knew whether to be imperative or civil; whether he was really
speaking to the first mate of the vessel, or to another party; or
whether he had insulted a noble, or been cajoled by a captain of a
vessel: he threw himself down on his sofa, and Krantz, taking his seat
in a chair, stated as follows:--
"You have been partly deceived and partly not, commandant. When we
first came here, not knowing what treatment we might receive, we
concealed our rank; afterwards I made known to you the rank of my friend
on shore; but did not think it worth while to say anything about his
situation on board of the vessel. The fact is, as you may well suppose
of a person of his dignity, he was owner of the fine ship which was lost
through the intervention of that one-eyed wretch; but of that by-and-by.
Now for the story. About ten years ago there was a great miser in
Amsterdam; he lived in the most miserable way that a man could live in;
wore nothing but rags; and having been formerly a seaman, his attire was
generally of the description common to his class. He had one son, to
whom he denied the necessaries of life, and whom he treated most
cruelly. After vain attempts to possess a portion of his father's
wealth, the devil instigated the son to murder the old man, who was one
day found dead in his bed; but as there were no marks of violence which
could be sworn to, although suspicion fell upon the son, the affair was
hushed up, and the young man took possession of his father's wealth. It
was fully expected that there would now be rioting and squandering on
the part of the heir, as is usually the case; but, on the contrary, he
never spent anything, but appeared to be as poor--even poorer--than he
ever was. Instead of being gay and merry, he was, in appearance, the
most miserable, downcast person in the world; and he wandered about,
seeking a crust of bread wherever he could find it. Some said that he
had been inoculated by his father, and was as great a miser as his
father had been; others shook their heads, and said that all was not
right. At last, after pining away for six or seven years, the young man
died at an early age, without confession or absolution; in fact, he was
found dead in his bed. Beside the bed there was a paper addressed to
the authorities, in which he acknowledged that he had murdered his
father for the sake of his wealth; and that when he went to take some of
it for his expenses on the day afterwards, he found his father's spirit
sitting on the bags of money, and menacing him with instant death, if he
touched one piece. He returned again and again, and found his father a
sentinel as before. At last, he gave up attempting to obtain it: his
crime made him miserable, and he continued in possession, without daring
to expend one sixpence of all the money. He requested that, as his end
was approaching, the money should be given to the church of his patron
saint, wherever that church might be found; if there was not one, then
that a church might be built and endowed. Upon investigation, it
appeared that there was no such church in either Holland or the Low
Countries (for you know that there are not many Catholics there); and
they applied to the Catholic countries, Lisbon and Spain, but there
again they were at fault; and it was discovered, that the only church
dedicated to that saint was one which had been erected by a Portuguese
nobleman in the city of Goa, in the East Indies. The Catholic bishop
determined that the money should be sent to Goa and, in consequence it
was embarked on board of my patron's vessel, to be delivered up to the
first Portuguese authorities he might fall in with.
"Well, signor, the money, for better security was put down into the
captain's cabin, which, of course, was occupied by my noble friend, and
when he went to bed the first night he was surprised to perceive a
little one-eyed old man sitting on the boxes."
"Merciful Saviour!" exclaimed the commandant, "what, the very same
little man who appeared here this day?"
"The very same," replied Krantz.