THE GHOST
The camp quieted down after a time. In one corner, Ruth had a shelter
of rugs which had been brought up from the boat, and she retired to
this after helping her father dress and rebandage Drew's foot.
The captain, as so many skippers are, was a good amateur surgeon; and
as far as he could discern there were no bones broken. But the foot
was so very painful that the young man could not coax the drowsy god.
He tossed restlessly on the hard bed of lava rock, and, though his eyes
closed at times, they opened again as though fitted with springs.
The exciting events of the day and the chances he had taken were
repeated over and over in his mind. For the first time in his life he
had aimed a deadly weapon at another human being.
He knew that Bingo had fallen by his hand. But, oddly enough, that
fact did not sear his conscience. He had been accused of drowning
Lester Parmalee, and the thought of that accusation now made him shrink
and writhe.
He was guiltless of Parmalee's awful end; still, he shuddered at the
thought that he might have been guilty. At one time he had felt such
rage and animosity, through jealousy, that he might have struck
Parmalee a fatal blow.
Drew had considered the missing man his rival for Ruth's affection.
Fate had removed that rival from his path. Yet, in doing this, fate
had likewise raised a barrier to Drew's own happiness with Ruth.
The man groaned aloud at this thought. Then, fearing that some of the
others would be disturbed, that Ruth might hear him, he arose and
hobbled to the barrier.
He felt in a pocket of the coat he had put on while aboard the schooner
and found pipe and tobacco. He filled the pipe and fell to smoking,
hoping to soothe his jumping nerves, while he stared out across the
moonlit open.
The tropical moonlight revealed every object to the edge of the jungle
as clearly as though it were broad day. It was a peaceful scene--so
peaceful that it was hard to imagine that daybreak might change it to a
place of carnage.
Suddenly he took his pipe from his lips and peered more closely at a
spot near the edge of the jungle. Something had moved there.
It could not be one of the sentinels. Attack was not expected from the
west. Nor was it one of the small, night-roaming animals of the
forest. Drew was sure there were no beasts of prey on this island. It
was too far from the mainland and the larger islands.
The something which he had seen moved farther out from the line of
verdure. It was a man.
Although the distance was fully a cable's length, Drew's eyes were
keen. The moonlight for a full minute shone on the face of the figure
before it moved again.
The sight of the pallid countenance, with the black hair above it,
smote Drew with an emotion akin to terror. He could not understand the
apparition--he could scarcely believe his eyes; yet that face was
Lester Parmalee's!
In a moment more the man had disappeared. The figure seemed to have
melted into the black background of the jungle.
Without a grain of superstition in his being, Allen Drew felt that he
was in the presence of the supernatural. He had not imagined the
figure. It was no figment of a waking dream.
This was what Ruth had seen. This was what had so startled her on the
occasion of the treasure seekers' first visit to the whale's hump. She
thought she had imagined the appearance of Lester Parmalee. Drew knew
he had seen it!
He was tempted to arouse Captain Hamilton. Yet he shrank from that.
He could not utter the missing man's name to Ruth's father, knowing, as
he did, that the captain was doubtful of his, Drew's, innocence in
connection with Parmalee's disappearance.
He whispered to the man on guard that he was going outside, and quickly
surmounted the barrier. He had his automatic revolver; and, anyway, he
did not think any of the mutineers were in the neighborhood.
Having marked well the spot where the ghostly figure had presented
itself to his startled vision, Drew hobbled directly to it, forgetting
in his excitement the painful foot. He did not halt to search for
foot-prints, but looked instead for an opening in the jungle, into
which the figure could have disappeared.
It was there--one of those strange lava paths through the thick
vegetation. The moonlight scarcely illuminated it, for it was narrow;
but Drew entered boldly. This matter must be brought to a conclusion.
He felt that the mystery had to be solved without delay.
There was light enough to show him the black wall of the jungle on
either side of the path. There were no openings. Tropical undergrowth
is not like that of a northern forest. Here the lianas and thorns
intermingled with strong brush, make an impervious hedge. One could
not penetrate it without the aid of a machete.
Drew heard no sound as he went on. The man he followed was not
struggling through the jungle in an attempt to escape pursuit. Allen
hastened his footsteps, his hand on his revolver. Was that a figure
moving through the semi-dusk ahead? Should he call? His lips formed
the name of Parmalee, but no sound came from them.
Suddenly he came to a clearing, perhaps a dozen yards across. Here the
lava had formed a pool and cooled in this circular patch. The
moonlight now revealed all.
A figure--the same he had seen upon the edge of the jungle--was
crossing this opening in the forest. The pursuer sprang forward.
"Wait!" he gasped. "It's I--Drew! Wait!"
The other whirled. He held only a club as a means of defense. He was
in rags. His black hair hung in dank locks about his pale brow.
"Who are you?" he cried. "Keep off!"
"Parmalee!"
Allen Drew rushed in, making light of the club, and seized the other in
his arms.
"My God, man! don't you know me? How came you here? Are you real?" he
chattered.
"Is it you, Drew?" queried the other, brokenly. "Lord! don't take my
breath, old fellow."
"They accuse me of taking your life!" ejaculated Drew, with hysterical
laughter. "Don't mind a little thing like being hugged. Gad,
Parmalee! how glad I am to see you!"
"Accused you of taking my life!" the other exclaimed, amazed.
"Ditty, the black-hearted hound, accused me of throwing you overboard.
Said he saw me do it. Captain Hamilton half believes it yet. Heavens,
Parmalee, but you're a sight to put heart into a man!
"Only," Drew added, "you quite took the heart out of me just now when I
saw you standing there at the edge of the forest staring at the fort."
"The fort. Yes. That's what puzzled me," Parmalee said. "I wasn't
sure which party was defending it. The sailors mutinied, didn't they?
You're fighting them?"
"I should say we are, the----"
He got no further. In their eagerness, the two men had been talking in
ordinary tones and had paid no attention to their surroundings. A
voice suddenly crackled through the other sounds of the night.
"Well, we've got two of 'em. Hands up, or we'll blow your heads off!"
It was Ditty with half a dozen of the mutineers at his back. They held
Drew and Parmalee under the muzzles of their automatics.
It was useless to attempt to escape. Even Drew, reckless as he had
shown himself at times, would not take his life so lightly in his
hands. And, besides, he knew well that Ditty would be only too glad to
shoot him.
His hands, as well as Parmalee's, went up promptly. One of the seamen,
laughing a little, came forward and searched them both, taking away
Drew's weapon. Parmalee had dropped his useless club.
The young men, so suddenly made captives by the mutineers, stood with
their backs to the strong moonlight, their faces in the shadow. The
moon was now sinking behind a buttress of the volcano. As yet, neither
had been recognized by their captors. But now Ditty came forward, and
first of all thrust his face into that of Parmalee.
"Who the devil are you?" he demanded.
The young man lifted his head and stared into the mate's pale eye.
Ditty started back with a shriek.
"What--what---- Who is it?" chattered the mate. His henchmen gazed at
him in amazement. Suddenly Ditty came forward again, and whirled
Parmalee around so that he faced the sinking moon.
"Mr. Parmalee!" he whispered.
The latter smiled faintly.
"It's Parmalee, all right," he said. "You didn't expect to see me
again, I imagine, Mr. Ditty."
The sound of the man's voice seemed to reassure the mate. The other
mutineers chattered their surprise. Finally Ditty, licking his dry
lips, stammered:
"I--I thought that you--you were----"
"No thanks to you that I'm not drowned, Mr. Ditty, if that's what you
mean," said Parmalee bitterly. "You tried your best to murder me."
"Not me!" declared Ditty, with a gesture of denial, turning his single
eye away from the other's accusing gaze. "It was that swab, Drew,
threw you overboard."
"Liar," declared Parmalee evenly. "Drew lay on the deck unconscious
from his fall. I was stooping to help him. Though you crept up behind
me, I knew you when you seized me in your arms, you villain. And I
hope to see you punished for it."
Ditty, with a curse, would have struck Parmalee, but Drew stepped
between them and received the blow intended for his comrade.
"If you must hit a man, hit one of your own size," he said quietly.
"Drew! Drew himself!" shouted the mate, recognizing the second
captive. "The very one we wanted! Hi, bullies! we've got the
whip-hand now. We've got the old man's right bower! An' him an' the
gal an' Tyke Grimshaw will pay us our price for the freedom of this
laddy-buck, to say nothin' of Parmalee. Bring 'em along!"