UNCLE HERBERT'S NARRATIVE
"NO doubt you wondered why I returned home by the vessel which came
to a bad ending on the Cannis, instead of by the regular mail
service. However, before explaining why I took this apparently
erratic step, I'll tell you about the documents I obtained from
Sarmientos. First and foremost there was the cipher, still preserved
in the little metal box. I have not got it here; but, thank goodness,
it's safe enough in the keeping of the cottagers at Pridmouth, the
same people who kindly lent me the garb in which I made my appearance
to you. There's not much in it to look at, but in all probability we
shall find it a tough nut to crack. It is a piece of parchment, on
which is drawn a square, subdivided into over two hundred smaller
squares, most of which are blank, but a few contain various
hieroglyphics, and the vague directions, 'steer nor'-east.' However,
we will go into that when we get it. The other papers, which,
unfortunately, were stolen----"
"Stolen?" exclaimed my father anxiously.
"Yes, stolen; but I was going to say that they were of no apparent
value--merely a sort of diary kept by Ross Trevena during his
residence in Brazil, the title-deeds of his plantation at San Antonio
de Riachaya, a few indentures, and an old piece of parchment, covered
with figures--apparently a sort of ready-reckoner.
"As I told you in my last letter, the natives did not appear to
appreciate my presence in Pernambuco, or, rather, in the outskirts,
for San Antonio is about four miles from the city. Once the
_hacienda_ where I was staying was broken into, but the intruders
were foiled by Chappell's bulldog, Chappell being, by the way, an
English engineer with whom I became friendly, and he happened to be
staying with me at the time of the attempted burglary. Twice I was
set upon by a party of Brazilians, but the sight of the muzzle of a
revolver cooled their ardour, and one night as I was sitting in the
patio a pistol bullet whizzed unpleasantly close to my head. Why they
bestowed these attentions on me I cannot imagine, unless they had a
mistaken idea that I had a secret hoard or a clue to a treasure
somewhere in the district. Possibly they do not realize that it is a
far cry from Brazil to the Islands of the Pacific.
"However, under the circumstances, I thought that the best thing I
could do was to clear out as quickly as possible, and, as it
happened, an Italian tramp, the 'Andrea Doria,' was about to sail
direct to Fowey to load up with china clay. She wasn't a bad sort of
vessel, as foreigners go, being built so lately as 1893, and her
captain and officers were quite decent fellows, especially from a
social point of view. Probably you remember the 'old man,' Luigi
Righi; he's been in this harbour several times, but, poor chap, I'm
afraid he won't enter again, unless his corpse is carried in by the
tide. The crew were all Italian, excepting a couple of Brazilians
shipped to replace some of the men who had deserted at Bahia. Well,
we cleared out of the harbour, high in ballast, and had an
uneventful run until we sighted the Longships, and here we fell in
with thick weather, which ended up with a regular southerly gale.
"We were able to catch only a glimpse of the Lizard lights, then
everything was blotted out in the mirk. I stayed up all night,
keeping on the bridge with the skipper and the second mate. About 11
p.m. the captain decided we were too close in shore, and telegraphed
to the engine-room to slow down to half-speed, intending to keep well
out until he could pick up the Eddystone lights, so I came to the
conclusion that he thought it safer to make for Plymouth rather than
enter Fowey Harbour in such a gale.
"Just as our helm was put hard-a-port, I saw a huge wave bearing down
on our starboard bow. It burst over our fo'c'sle in a solid mass,
carrying away everything movable, and, hearing a warning shout from
the captain, I cowered behind the canvas storm-dodgers, and held on
like grim death. The crest of the wave swept the bridge, tearing away
the greater part of the rail and the ladder, and with the former went
the mate. I could just distinguish his cry of terror above the
howling of the gale. The captain slid down one of the bridge
stanchions, and, needless to say, I followed suit, and on gaining the
shelter of the wheel-house we found that the steam steering-gear had
broken down. Almost at the same moment the chief engineer rushed on
deck reporting four feet of water in the engine-room, and the
quartermaster, staggering along from aft, announced that the loss of
the rudder had caused an alarming leak in the after-hold.
"The skipper seemed calm enough, for he translated his subordinate's
reports to me; but a few minutes afterwards up came the
panic-stricken engine-room staff, gesticulating, and calling on all
the saints in the calendar, while from the engine-room-hatch poured a
thick cloud of steam, and immediately afterwards the dull throb of
the propeller ceased, and we were helpless in the trough of the sea.
"It seemed hours that we drifted in utter helplessness, sea after sea
breaking in, carrying away all the boats on the starboard side,
while, by the vessel's sluggishness in shaking herself free, I knew
she was sinking fast.
"Something prompted me to go below and secure the precious papers,
but on gaining my berth I found the cabin door had been forced open
and the place hurriedly ransacked, all my personal belongings being
scattered on the floor. There were no signs of the documents, though
luckily I had the box containing the cipher sewn in my waistbelt. At
first thoughts I came to the conclusion that the motion of the vessel
had caused the disorder in the cabin, but the sight of the two locked
portmanteaux cut open, apparently with a sharp knife, destroyed this
theory. In spite of the peril of the situation, I argued that, if
robbery had been the motive, the papers, being of no apparent value,
would have been overlooked; but further search showed that there was
some deliberate reason that had induced the thief to take them.
"In the midst of my hurried search came a shock that made the vessel
shudder so violently that I was thrown against the for'ard bulkhead
of the cabin. The ship was aground.
"I sprang forward to rush on deck, but, to my horror, I found that
the cabin-door had jammed in its frame and I was a prisoner.
"I remember once, when I was a small boy (you were not there at the
time), our pet cat was caught by its head in a jug while trying to
steal some milk. How I laughed at the wretched creature's antics, as
in an agony of fright it tore round the room with the jug adhering
firmly to its head. Poor brute! It has my sympathy now, for its state
of mind must have been very much like mine when I found myself
trapped in the cabin of the sinking ship.
"I was mad with terror. Shouting, I flung myself again and again at
the unyielding door, pounding at it with my fists, till, with my
knuckles streaming with blood, I was obliged to desist through sheer
exhaustion.
Suddenly the doomed vessel listed heavily to port, and I threw myself
bodily against the door in a forlorn effort. The framework crashed
outwards, and I fell ponderously into the alleyway, where I lay in a
half-conscious condition till a rush of water flooding the narrow
passage brought back my scattered senses.
"I managed to squeeze through the partially closed companion and gain
the deck. The scene of confusion had increased with all the horrors
of shipwreck. A few of the less-frenzied members of the crew had lit
a tar-barrel, and by the vivid glare of the flames I saw a crowd of
half-maddened seamen making a rush for the sole remaining lifeboat.
"In the desperate struggle knives flashed, but whether it was by
steel or by water that the wretched, demented creatures met their
fate matters little, for directly the boat was lowered it was crushed
like an eggshell against the ship's side. There was a short yet
terrible shriek of terror, and then the noise of Nature's weapons
alone was heard.
"The surviving members of the crew sent up a few rockets, and, in
spite of the peril of our situation, we felt cheered by the answering
flash from a rocket ashore, and at about the same time the atmosphere
cleared somewhat, and I saws a red light giving a double flash at
quick intervals.
"Then I knew by the irony of fate that this was St. Catherine's
light, and that we were cast on the rocks within sight of home.
"All this time the ship was breaking up fast, and, as wave after wave
swept over the doomed vessel, the little knot of survivors grew
steadily less, the men being so numbed with continued exposure that
they retained no strength to resist their relentless fate.
"I could see that the longer I held on, the more chance there would
be of the breaking dawn helping, so that the possibilities of
reaching shore in safety would be correspondingly greater, though I
had sad misgivings of ever gaining dry land, alive.
"However, I lashed myself securely to a fife-rail, which seemed the
least likely to carry away, making a simple hitch, so as to cast
myself adrift at the critical moment. The vessel had now listed to
such an extent that walking would have been an impossibility, while
the remaining portion of the ship trembled under the violent shocks
as waves struck the gaping sides and fell in a green cascade over the
miserable wretches who cowered to lee'ard.
"At length, after hours of interminable waiting, as it seemed, a grey
light began to break over the awful scene, and, looking landwards, I
saw the misty outline of the Gribben, though, of course, there were
no people visible, neither could they have seen us in that dim light.
"The ship had struck within a hundred yards of the Cannis rock, and
in the trough of the breaking seas I could make out the iron standard
of the danger beacon, a mockery in our present state.
"At that moment something prompted me to look sideways to see how my
fellow-sufferers fared, and to my surprise I made out the figure of
one of the Brazilian seamen crawling cautiously towards me. In the
semi-darkness I saw that in his right hand he grasped a knife; then,
before I could realise the situation, he made a vicious thrust at me
with the glittering steel. Even as he did so, the deck seemed to
burst upwards, and the miscreant stumbled. The knife fell, but not
where it was intended, and, descending on the rope that held me to
the rail, it severed it like pack-thread, and the next moment I found
myself struggling in the waves.
"I must have been swept across the deck with considerable force, for
some time elapsed before I reached the surface, and it was with
mingled feelings of despair and exultation that I began to strike out
for the shore.
"'Cheer up, Herbert, old man!' I continually exclaimed to myself.
'Everything helps to set you shorewards--wind, waves, and your own
efforts. Better be drowned than perish by a knife-thrust, anyway.'
And then, in the midst of these encouragements, I thought of the
pitiless rocks, and, knowing them as I did, I could form a pretty
sure idea of my fate. Just then I noticed something that filled me
with renewed hope. The ship was aground, as I have related, within a
hundred yards of the Cannis, and now I saw that I was not cast over
that jagged rock, but had been borne well to the eastward of it, so
that there was a hope--a mere fighting chance--of being swept into
the comparatively sheltered waters of Pridmouth Bay.
"I continued to strike out with swift strokes, relying on my strength
to last till I reached shore, and my ability to withstand the cold.
"Slowly I neared the shore till the bold headland of the Gribben was
abreast, and I had all my work cut out to keep parallel to the ledge
of rocks on its eastern side and to prevent myself being swept away
from the mouth of the little bay; and, in spite of my efforts, I felt
the numbing effects of the icy water gradually telling on my
exhausted limbs. How long I kept on swimming I cannot tell, for my
actions had become more or less mechanical, till in the trough of an
enormous roller I felt my feet touch bottom.
"In another moment I was in the midst of the broken seas, and
alternately thrown violently shorewards by one wave and washed back
by the undertow, without possessing the strength to save myself, I
realized dimly that the little remaining breath I had was being
dashed out of my body. Yet in the midst of it all I felt no actual
pain, neither did I seem to mind the danger. A vague, unaccountable
sensation of indifference gave place to a rapid succession of mental
pictures. In a few seconds I had lived my life once again. In times
past I have scoffed at similar statements, but now I know it for a
fact.
"My last impression of that awful struggle was that I was lying in
the soft, yielding sand, with the backwash pouring over me, and the
dull roar of an approaching breaker. Then came the crash of the
falling cataract, the flash of thousands of brilliant lights, and
complete oblivion.
"When I opened my eyes I found myself lying on a rough wooden stool
in the garden of a cottage, and a couple of men were chafing my limbs
with rough towels. My head throbbed horribly, and I was aware that
there was a bandage tied tightly over my temples, from which the
blood trickled in a little stream down my face.
"Directly they saw I had come to my senses they carried me over to
the cottage, stripping off my wet clothes, and put me into a bed;
but, in spite of a dizzy sensation, I soon insisted on getting up, my
one desire being to make for home as fast as I could.
"Seeing that I was terribly in earnest, the men rigged me out in some
dry clothes, and left me with the intention of borrowing a pony and
cart from a neighbouring house; but directly they had gone, a sudden
impulse seized me--possibly I was temporarily out of my mind--and I
staggered out of the cottage, without reckoning on the long walk home
in my tottering condition; but fortunately for me, I had not gone
many yards before I saw you and Reggie on ahead, and the rest you
know."
"You always were a hare-brained rascal in some respects," remarked my
father; "and there was a great possibility of your pegging out
through sheer exhaustion, in which case there would have been no
survivors from the ill-fated 'Andrea Doria.'"
"Then I suppose I am the only survivor?" asked my uncle.
"I have every reason to believe so," replied my father sadly.
"I think not--at least, I believe I'm right," I exclaimed. "But I
didn't like to interrupt Uncle Herbert at the time." And thereupon I
told him about my meeting with the foreign-looking sailor on the
cliff.
"Yes, I remember you mentioned the circumstance to me," remarked my
father. "But why do you suppose the man was a member of the crew of
the 'Andrea Doria'? Foreign sailors are not unusual in Fowey."
"But foreigners in saturated clothes do not generally lie concealed
in long grass early in the morning."
"What was he like?" asked Uncle Herbert anxiously.
"That's the man to a certainty," declared my uncle decisively, when I
had completed the description. "Paulo, they called him. He was one of
the two Brazilians we had aboard, and he it was who tried to stab me
with a knife."
"Why?"
"That's where you have me. I cannot even guess--unless he was after
the cipher."
"Then possibly it was he who stole the papers from your cabin?"
"More than likely. Mark my words, Howard, there is some villainy
afoot. Don't you think it would be advisable to set the police on his
track?"
"Pooh!" exclaimed my father contemptuously. "We'll hear or see no
more of him. Even now he may be working his passage homewards.
However, that reminds me: I'll go over to Pridmouth to-morrow and
return those well-fitting clothes you were rigged out in, and, at the
same time, I'll get hold of the cipher; for, really, I am burning
with impatience to tackle the mystery."