Dick Stapleton tossed restlessly on his bamboo bed, till the rickety
legs creaked ominously and the mosquito net waved to and fro,
threatening to descend upon his head. The heat was stifling. Inside
his room the thermometer stood at an unusual height, even for this Gold
Coast country, where high readings are a common occurrence, and where
hot nights are the rule rather than the exception. The windows of the
house in which he slept, or vainly attempted to do so, were thrown wide
open, but despite that fact, they admitted nothing but the deep and
ever-recurring boom of the surf, which beats upon the sandy beach of the
Fanti country without ceasing. Boom! Boom! The thunder of the waves
seemed to shake even the land, while in his mind's eye Dick could see
the spray rise high, and then fall back as white as milk, seething and
foaming, to be swallowed by the next breaker as it curled its green
crest on to the sand. Not a breath stirred on this sultry night. The
leaves on the forest trees within a stone's-throw of the house made no
movement. Nothing, in fact, appeared to have the energy for movement on
this night save the myriad mosquitoes, which seemed to revel in the
heat, and an occasional beast in the forest, whose piercing cry was wont
at one time to startle our hero.
"Oh, for a breeze!" sighed Dick. "If only a cool wind would play into
the room a fellow might fall asleep. This mosquito net stifles me, and
yet I dare not throw it aside or I shall be well-nigh eaten. I feel,
too, as if I had a little fever, and that is just the very thing I wish
to avoid. I've work before me; difficulties to set aside, and--and
affairs to arrange."
For some reason his hand sought for a box deposited beneath the bed, and
his fingers touched the lock to make sure that it was closed.
"All that stands between me and starvation," said Dick. "Just a bare
two hundred pounds in gold, a store almost depleted of goods, and two
houses which no one seems to want. There's the business, too, and James
Langdon."
For a while his thoughts went to the man whose name he had mentioned,
and he brooded uneasily.
"He ought to go," he said to himself. "Father trusted him, I know; but
I am sure of his dishonesty. He has been robbing the store for years,
and he will rob me if I let him stay. He is a sneaking half-caste, a
rogue who cannot be trusted, and if it were not for father he should be
dismissed. Well, to-morrow I will go into the matter. I'm tired
to-night. If only it were not so frightfully hot!"
Dick was peevish and out of temper. He had worked hard all day, and was
very tired, for the heat had been great. And now that he had thrown
himself on his bed he could not sleep. The old worries filled his mind,
only instead of being lessened, the silence of the night, the droning
insects, the shrill cries from the forests, and the deep boom of the
surf, intensified his difficulties, till they sat upon his young
shoulders like a millstone. Presently, however, he fell into a doze,
and later his deep breathing showed that he was asleep. Asleep? No!
For he started suddenly and sat erect on his bed.
"I thought I heard something," he said in a whisper. "That was a step
outside. Some one knocked against the chair on the platform and tipped
it over. I don't like that noise."
He threw one leg half out of the bed and waited, for, to be candid, Dick
had no liking for an encounter with some evil-doer in the small hours.
Then, mustering courage, he threw the mosquito net aside, rearranged it
over the bed, and stealthily crept to the farther side. His hand sought
the box which contained his worldly possessions, and tucking it beneath
his arm he stole softly out on to the verandah. There was a brilliant
moon, high up in the sky, and the silvery rays played softly upon the
sandy beach, upon the crests of the breakers, upon the white street and
the white houses, and upon the bush and forest which formed at this time
the surroundings of Cape Coast Castle. There were deep shadows
everywhere, and Dick's eyes sought them, and endeavoured to penetrate to
their depths. He stood still and listened, though the thump of his
fast-beating heart was all that came to his ears above the boom of the
surf. That and the eternal droning of the insects which swarmed around.
No one seemed to be abroad this night, and yet--
"Some one was here," thought Dick, with conviction, as he stepped across
the wooden platform, with its overhanging roof, which went by the name
of verandah. "Here is the deck-chair in which I was sitting just before
I turned in, and it is now on its side: I left it all right. And--
That's some one!"
He drew back somewhat suddenly, while his breathing became faster. For
some one, an indefinite shape, a native perhaps, had stepped from one of
the shadows and had peered at the verandah. Then detecting the white
youth, he had vanished into the shadow again, as silently and as
stealthily as any snake.
"I don't like that at all," thought Dick. "I'm alone here, and the
people know that there is gold. They know that father kept his money in
the house, and now that he is gone they must be aware that I have it.
I'll camp out here for the night. I wish to goodness I had gone down to
the Castle and left this box under lock and key."
He stepped back into the room which he had just vacated, and felt along
the wall till his hand hit upon a rifle. Then he sought for cartridges,
and, having found a handful, tucked them into the pocket of his pyjamas,
and one into the breech of his weapon. That done, he went on to the
verandah, and, pulling his chair into a corner, sat down with the gun
across his legs and the box beneath his feet.
"I could have slept," he grumbled. "But that's out of the question.
Some blackguard wants the money, and that must be prevented. Besides,
these Fantis would knife me with pleasure. I don't care for the thought
of that, so here goes for a night-watch, Dick Stapleton, my boy, you'll
be anything but fresh tomorrow."
Had he been an older soldier, Dick would have remained on his legs, and
would have patrolled the length of the verandah, and even shown himself
beyond the house, out in the brilliant patch where the moon rays fell.
But he was only a young fellow, and, in addition, he was tired, fagged
out by work and anxiety. The heat told upon him, too, and the booming
of the surf, instead of helping to keep him wakeful, seemed, now that he
was outside his room, to lull him to sleep.
His excitement, and the forebodings which the strange figure had brought
to his mind, soon calmed down and disappeared. His head drooped. A
cool wind got up and gently fanned his heated cheek, and within half an
hour he was asleep--far more deeply, too, than he had been when
stretched beneath his mosquito net. He snored loudly and contentedly.
The gun slipped to the ground, and caused him to stir uneasily. But he
did not awake. He slipped farther down into his chair, and slept the
sleep of the exhausted, oblivious of his danger, forgetful of the vow he
had made, and of the watch which he had meant to keep. And his snores,
the click of his rifle, and the shuffle of his feet as he stretched them
out, were as a signal to the rascal who lurked in the shadows. He
slipped into the open and listened. Then he dropped on all fours, and
stealthily crept towards the verandah. At times he was hidden in the
deep shade cast by the many shrubs which surrounded the house, while at
others he knelt fully outlined--a short, broad-shouldered savage, as
naked as the day when he was born, dark grey in colour, and glistening
under the moon's rays, for his body was freely anointed with oil. At
such moments his pace quickened till he reached another friendly shadow,
where he lurked for a minute or more, only the whites of his eyes
showing occasionally as he stretched his head from the shade. Soon he
was near the verandah, and seemed on the point of leaping the low rail
which enclosed it, when an unearthly shriek--the familiar night-call of
a forest animal--broke the silence, and set him trembling.
"I'd wring its neck!" he growled hoarsely, while he wiped the beads of
perspiration from his forehead. "The brute startled me, and may have
awakened the young fool on the verandah. If it has--well, I must have
the money. I must have it this night, too, and without further waiting.
To-morrow will be too late. He'll know the truth then. He's cunning,
this young Stapleton--cunning. He's deep and too knowing, and he
suspects. To-morrow the books will show what has been happening these
five years and more, and then--"
His eyes rolled, and an oath escaped his lips, for he thought of the
Castle, of the cell which would receive him, and of the labour to which
he would be condemned.
"To-night or never!" he muttered. "And if the youngster stirs or
attempts to hold me, why, there's something here to make him alter his
mind. Something to stop him altogether, to shut his mouth, and keep his
evidence from reaching the authorities."
The thought seemed to please him, for he sat back on his heels and
gripped his revolver more tenaciously. But a moment later reflection
brought some doubt to his mind, and his breathing became deeper and more
hurried.
"They'd know," he said, with an oath. "They're bound to know, in any
case, for I must go. Once I have the money, I must take to the forest,
and trust to picking up a boat along the coast. Even then I shall have
to wait for months, for there will be a hue and cry. I'll have to make
for King Koffee's country, and take service with him. He'll remember
who has been so good about the supply of guns and ammunition. Yes, I'll
make for Kumasi, and wait there till the storm has blown over. Ah! he's
snoring again. I must be quick. The morning will be coming in a couple
of hours."
The thought that he had a haven near at hand seemed to spur the
miscreant on to his purpose, for he rose to his feet and emerged into
the open, where the brilliant moon showed him even more clearly. It was
obvious that he had purposely darkened his skin, for behind his ears, on
the broad of his back, and on the palms of his hands were dusky-white
patches, which he had omitted to cover. In fact, the robber who lurked
so close to the house, and whose fingers grasped the revolver, was none
other than James Langdon, whose name was uppermost in Dick Stapleton's
mind. This thief, who came stealthily in the night, was the half-caste
manager of the store which Dick's father had kept for many a year in
Cape Coast Castle. Short and squat he appeared in the moon's rays, but
the light was insufficient to show what manner of man he actually was.
Had it been lighter one would have seen a heavy, ugly face, with thick
lips and splayed-out nose, telling unmistakably of his negro origin.
Crisp, airly locks, jet black in colour, covered his head, while some
straggling hairs grew from his upper lip. The brows were low; the eyes
too close together, while the thickness of the lips alone seemed to
denote a cruel nature. James Langdon was, in fact, far from
prepossessing in appearance, while he bore a character which was none of
the best. He had a dusky complexion, sharp, white teeth, and that
whiteness of the eye which belongs to a native.
For years he had acted as Mr Stapleton's manager, and tales were
whispered in the place that he robbed his employer, that he had dealings
with the natives of the interior which, had they come to the knowledge
of Mr Stapleton or to the ears of the authorities, would have gained
for him instant dismissal, and in all probability imprisonment. But Mr
Stapleton had never suspected, and the apathy of the officials had
caused them to disregard rumours. And so it happened that James went on
with his peculations and his illicit trading till Dick came out to the
Gold Coast, just four months before, and at once plunged into the
business with the intention of mastering every detail. Gradually, as
the books and the working of the store became familiar to him, Dick had
begun to suspect, and then had become almost certain of the fact that
the manager was dishonest.
"I'll make sure first of all," he had said. "I am new to ledgers and
journals, and, in fact, to trade of any sort, and it is possible that I
may be mistaken. I'll go through the entries again, so that there shall
be no room for doubt."
Unconsciously his manner had altered to the manager. He was too honest
to be on familiar terms with a man whom he suspected of robbing his
father and as a result James guessed that he was found out, that this
young Englishman regarded him with suspicion. He would have fled the
place then and there had he had the means. But he had long since spent
all his ill-gotten wealth. He remained, therefore, and while still
contemplating the step, went on with his work as if he had nothing to
fear. A few days later a sharp bout of fever, not the first which he
had suffered by any means, attacked Mr Stapleton, and to Dick's
inexpressible grief he succumbed.
"Then I must go," said James Langdon, and with that he promptly decided
to rob the son and decamp.
Only a week had passed since Mr Stapleton's death, when the half-caste
proceeded to put his plan into execution; and there he was, disguised in
order that Dick should not recognise him, naked and well smeared with
oil, so that if his young employer happened to awake and endeavoured to
detain him, his grip would instantly slip from his body.
"He's fast asleep, and now's the time," whispered James, running his
fingers across his forehead to wipe the perspiration away. "I'll creep
in and search for the box."
He stood to his full height and peered over the rail of the verandah at
the sleeping figure. Then he hoisted himself over the low wall and
stole along the wooden flooring. It took more than a minute to reach
the door of the room which Dick had recently vacated, for the sleeper
was evidently troubled with dreams, and he breathed and snorted heavily,
each sound bringing the robber to a stop, and setting him shivering with
apprehension, for this half-caste was a coward at heart. But at length
he found himself within the room.
"Beneath the bed," he said to himself. "That's where his father kept
the gold, and no doubt the young fool does the same. He'll have left
the box there, and I shall be able to get it and slip away without
discovery."
He was at the bed by now, and his arms were groping vainly beneath it.
An oath escaped him when he discovered that the box was gone, and he sat
back on his heels trembling, and furious with disappointment.
"Perhaps he has moved it," he said at length. "He guessed that some one
was about, else why did he go on to the verandah to keep watch, and why
the gun? I'll strike a match and take a look round. First of all, is
he quiet?"
He stole to the open door and peered at the recumbent figure, now half
illuminated by the moon. He could see the head lolling forward, the
hands and arms trailing to the floor, and the stock of the rifle. The
legs and feet, and the box for which he sought, were still in the
shadow.
"All's well," he thought. "A match will not awake him, and there is no
one about to see the light."
There was a faint, rasping sound, and the glimmer of a flame lit the
room. The half-caste searched each corner diligently till the match
burned to his fingers. Then he flung it aside with an oath and rapidly
struck another.
"Then he must have the box with him," he exclaimed hoarsely, while the
frown on his ugly brows increased as he realised that his difficulties
were suddenly increased. "He's asleep. I'll capture the prize and run
to the nearest shadow. If he follows--"
His fingers felt the lock of the revolver while he lifted the weapon and
took aim at the moonlit doorway.
"I could hit him with ease, though I have never fired one of these
before," he said. "Time's going. It must be done at once."
Bracing himself with the thought, the miscreant stole to the door, and
then along the verandah till he was close to Dick. His hand went out to
search for the coveted box, and then drew back suddenly, while the blood
in his veins froze with terror. For Dick moved restlessly and spoke in
his sleep. Had he discovered the attempt? Was he about to pounce upon
the intruder? The doubt set the half-caste shivering till desperation
lent him strength, and he levelled the revolver. His eyes shone
strangely in the moon's rays as they fixed themselves on the unconscious
youth, while the finger which lay on the trigger stiffened, causing the
hammer to rise slowly into cocking position. Another movement would
have been Dick's last. But the dream had passed, the nightmare which
had troubled him was gone, and he slept easily.
"I thought it was all up," growled the robber hoarsely, to himself. "He
startled me. There's the box."
His eye had suddenly lit upon it, and lowering his revolver he stretched
out to it, caught the handle, and with a tug dragged it from beneath
Dick's feet. Then he scrambled from his knees, and was in the act of
leaping the rail of the verandah when the sleeper started erect. A cry
escaped him, and in an instant he was on his feet. Then with a shout of
fury he threw himself upon the robber. One hand gripped the ruffian's
neck, while the other closed about his arm. For a second, perhaps, he
retained his hold. Then a quick movement of the half-caste threw him
off, his hands slipping from the well-oiled surface. There was a sharp
report, and the flash of a revolver in his face. Then he was left,
still gripping at the air, while James Langdon sought safety in flight,
his dark figure flitting across the brilliant moonlit patch to the
nearest shadow.
"Stop!" shouted Dick, now thoroughly awake. "I know who it is. I
recognised you by means of the flash. It is James Langdon, the man who
has robbed my father for years. Stop, and return the box this instant.
I promise to let you go free afterwards. If you refuse I will shoot you
down as you run."
He stooped swiftly and picked up his weapon. Then he leapt over the
rail and ran into the open.
"Now," he said, as he faced the deep shadow in which James had
disappeared, and in which he still lurked, fearful that his figure would
be seen as he crossed to the next, "come out and return the box. I give
you half a minute. After that I fire."
He could see the faint outline of the man, while the moving leaves told
of his probable position. Dick levelled his weapon, and waited till he
judged the half-minute had passed.
"Once more," he called out, "are you coming?"
There was no answer, only the leaves shook more violently. Dick took
careful aim, and pulled the trigger, sending a bullet into the very
centre of the figure which he had dimly perceived. But he had a cunning
fox to deal with, and forgot that he himself stood brilliantly outlined
in the open. James Langdon knew that he had but to draw his fire to
escape to the forest, for long before Dick could load again he would
have gained the woods. He waited, therefore, till our hero's patience
was exhausted. Then he threw himself flat on the ground till the shot
rang out. An instant later he was on his feet racing into the forest.
And after him went his pursuer, hot with rage and anxiety. Dashing into
the thick bush he endeavoured to come up with the fugitive, but all was
dense darkness here. He struck his head against an overhanging bough,
and a moment later caught his feet in a twining vine, coming with a
crash to the ground. He was up in a moment, only to meet with the same
fate again, while the half-caste, better versed in the ways of the
forest, crept steadily along on all fours, feeling his way through the
tangle. Dick was beaten, and in his rage he blazed right and left into
the forest; but the shots did no harm to the fugitive, while hardly had
their reverberation died down when there followed the mocking calls of
the half-caste.
"Set a watch and keep it, Dick Stapleton," he shouted, "and learn to be
wary when James Langdon is about. As to the box, have no fear for its
safety. I promise to take care of the gold which it contains."
He gave vent to a boisterous laugh, a laugh of triumph, and then went on
his way, leaving Dick trembling with fury.
"Listen to this, you ruffian," he shouted back. "You are a knave, and
have robbed me as you did my father. Don't think to escape. Some day
we shall meet again, and then you shall answer for this crime."
A jeering laugh was his only answer, and dispirited, and well-nigh on
the verge of tears, he retraced his steps to the house, and threw
himself into his chair, a prey to the worst misgivings, wondering what
he should do next, how he was to live, and how to repair his ruined
fortunes.