to make. He could go just so fast; must consume just so much time in
his snail-like progress up the face of the hill. During that time he
furnished an excellent target, and the loose sandstone showed where
each shot struck.
A significant indication was that the men did not take the trouble
to get nearer, for which manoeuvre they would have had time in plenty,
but distributed themselves leisurely for a shooting match.
"First shot," claimed Handy Solomon, and without delay fired off-hand.
A puff of dust showed to the right. "Nerve no good," he commented,
"jerked her just as I pulled."
Pulz fired from the knee. The dust this time puffed below.
"Thought she'd carry up at that distance," he muttered.
The Nigger, too, missed, and Thrackles grinned triumphantly.
"I get a show," said he. He spread his massive legs apart, drew a deep
breath, and raised his weapon. It lay in his grasp steady as a log,
and I saw that Percy Darrow's fate was in the hands of that dangerous
class of natural marksman that possesses no nerves. But for the second
time my teeth saved his life. The trigger guard slipped against
Thrackles's lacerated hand almost at the instant of discharge. He
missed; and the bullet went wide.
Darrow had climbed a matter of twenty feet.
Now the seamen distributed themselves for more leisurely and accurate
marksmanship. Handy Solomon lay flat on his stomach, resting the rifle
muzzle across the top of a sand dune. Pulz sat down, an elbow on
either knee for the greater steadiness. The Nigger knelt; but
Thrackles remained on his feet. No rest could be steadier than the
stone-like rigidity of his thick arms.
The firing now became miscellaneous. No one paid any attention to
anyone else. Each discovered what I could have told them, that even
the human figure at five hundred yards is a small mark for a strange
rifle. The constant correction of elevation, however, brought the
puffs of dust always closer, and I could not but realise that the
doctrine of chances must bring home some of the bullets. I soon
discovered by way of comfort that only Thrackles and Handy Solomon
really understood firearms; and of those two Thrackles alone had had
much experience at long range. He told me afterward he had hunted
otter.
About halfway up the cliff Thrackles fired his fifth shot. No dust
followed the discharge; and I saw Percy Darrow stagger and almost lose
his hold. The men yelled savagely, but the assistant pulled himself
together and continued his crawling.
The sun had been shining in our faces. I could imagine its blurring
effect on the sights. Now abruptly it was blotted out, and a
semi-twilight fell. We all looked up, in spite of ourselves. An opaque
veil had been drawn quite across the heavens, through which we could
not make out even the shape of the sun. It was like a thunder cloud
except that its under surface instead of being the usual grey-black
was a deep earth-brown. As we looked up, a deep bellow stirred the air,
which had fallen quite still, long forks of lightning shot
horizontally from the direction of the island's interior, and flashes
of dull red were reflected from the canopy of cloud.
The men stared with their mouths open. Undoubtedly the change had been
some time in preparation, but all had been so absorbed in the affair
of the doctor's assistant that no one had noticed. It came to our
consciousness with the suddenness of a theatrical change. A dull
roaring commenced, grew in volume, and then a great explosion shook
the very ground under our feet.
We stared at each other, our faces whitening.
"What kind of hell has broke loose?" muttered Pulz.
The Nigger fell flat on his face, uttering deep lamentations.
"Voodoo! Voodoo!" he groaned.
A gentle shower of white flakes began, powdering the surface of
everything. Far out to sea we could make out the sun on the water.
Gradually the roaring died down; the lightning ceased. Comparative
peace ensued. We looked again toward the cliff. Percy Darrow had not
for one instant ceased to climb. He was just topping the edge of the
bluff. Handy Solomon, with a cry of rage, seized another rifle and
emptied the magazine at him as fast as the lever could be worked. The
dust flew wild in a half dozen places. Darrow drew himself up to the
sky line, raised his hat ironically, and disappeared.
[Illustration: The firing now became miscellaneous. No one paid any
attention to any one else.]
"Damn his soul!" cried Handy Solomon, his face livid. He threw his
rifle to the beach and danced on it in an ecstasy of rage.
"What do we care," growled Thrackles, "he's no good to us. W'at I want
to know is, wat's up here, anyhow!"
"Didn't you never see a volcano go off, you swab?" snapped Handy
Solomon.
"Easy with your names, mate. No, I never did. We better get out."
"Without the chest?"
"S'pose we go up the gulch and get it, then," suggested Thrackles.
But at this Handy Solomon drew back in evident terror.
"Up that hole of hell?" he objected. "Not I. You an' Pulz go."
They wrangled over it, Pulz joining. Perdosa, shaken to the soul,
crept in, and made a bee-line for the rum barrel. He and the Nigger
were frankly scared. They had the nervous jumps at every little noise
or unexpected movement; and even the natural explanation of these
phenomena gave them very little reassurance. I knew that Darrow would
hurry as fast as he could back to the valley by way of the upper
hills; I knew that he had there several sporting rifles; and I hoped
greatly that he and Dr. Schermerhorn might accomplish something before
the men had recovered their wits to the point of foreseeing his
probable attack. The uncanny cloud in the heavens, the weird
half-light, and the explosions, which now grew more frequent, had
their strong effect in spite of explanation. The men were not really
afraid to venture in quest of the supposed treasure; but they were in
a frame of mind that dreaded the first plunge. And time was going by.
But the fates were against us, as always in this ill-starred voyage.
I, watching from my sand dune, saw a second figure emerge from the
arroyo's mouth. It appeared to stagger as though hurt; and every eight
or ten paces it stopped and rested in a bent-over position. The murky
light was too dim for me to make out details; but after a moment a
rift in the veil enabled me to identify Dr. Schermerhorn carrying,
with great difficulty, the chest.
XVI
THE MURDER
I took no chances, but began at once to shout, as soon as I saw the men
had noticed his coming. It was impossible for me to tell whether or not
Dr. Schermerhorn heard me. If he did, he misunderstood my intention, for
he continued painfully to advance. The only result I gained was to get
myself well gagged with my own pocket handkerchief, and thrown in a hollow
between the dunes. Thence I could hear Handy Solomon speaking fiercely and
rapidly.
"Now you let me run this," he commanded; "we got to find out somethin'. It
ain't no good to us without we knows--and we want to find out how he's got
the rest hid."
They assented.
"I'm goin' out to help him carry her in," announced the seaman.
A long pause ensued, in which I watched the deep canopy of red-black
thicken overhead. A strange and unearthly light had fallen on the world,
and the air was quite still. After a while I heard Handy Solomon and Dr.
Schermerhorn join the group.
"There you are, Perfessor," cried Handy Solomon, in tones of the greatest
heartiness, "I'll put her right there, and she'll be as safe as a babby at
home. She's heavy, though."
Dr. Schermerhorn laughed a pleased and excited laugh. I could tell by the
tone of his voice that he was strung high, and guessed that his triumph
needed an audience.
"You may say so well!" he said. "It iss heafy; and it iss heafy with the
world-desire, the great substance than can do efferything. Where iss
Percy?"
"He's gone aboard."
"We must embark. The time is joost right. A day sooner and the egsperiment
would haf been spoilt; but now"--he laughed--"let the island sink, we do
not care. We must embark hastily."
"It'll take a man long time to carry down all your things, Perfessor."
"Oh, led them go! The eruption has alretty swallowed them oop. The lava
iss by now a foot deep in the valley. Before long it flows here, so we
must embark."
"But you've lost all them vallyable things, Perfessor," said Handy
Solomon. "Now, I call that hard luck."
Dr. Schermerhorn snapped his fingers.
"They do not amoundt to that!" he cried. "Here, here, in this leetle box
iss all the treasure! Here iss the labour of ten years! Here iss the
_Laughing Lass_, and the crew, and all the equipmendt comprised. Here iss
the world!"
"I'm a plain seaman, Perfessor, and I suppose I got to believe you; but
she's a main small box for all that."
"With that small box you can haf all your wishes," asserted the Professor,
still in the German lyric strain over his triumph. "It iss the box of
enchantments. You haf but to will the change you would haf taig place--it
iss done. The substance of the rocks, the molecule--all!"
"Could a man make diamonds?" asked Pulz abruptly. I could hear the sharp
intake of the men's breathing as they hung on the reply.
"Much more wonderful changes than that it can accomplish," replied the
doctor, with an indulgent laugh. "That change iss simple. Carbon iss coal;
carbon iss diamond. You see? One has but to change the form, not the
substance."
"Then it'll change coal to diamonds?" asked Handy Solomon.
"Yes, you gather my meanings--"
I heard a sharp squeak like a terrified mouse. Then a long, dreadful
silence; then two dull, heavy blows, spaced with deliberation. A moment
later I caught a glimpse of Handy Solomon bent forward to the labour of
dragging a body toward the sea, his steel claw hooked under the angle of
the jaw as a man handles a fish. Pulz came and threw off my bonds and gag.
"Come along!" said he.
All kept looking fearfully toward the arroyo. A dense white steam marked
its course. The air was now heavy with portent. Successive explosions,
some light, some severe, shook the foundations of the island. Great rocks
and boulders bounded down the hills. The flashes of lightning had become
more frequent. We moved, exaggerated to each other's vision by the strange
light, uncouth and gigantic.
"Let's get out of this!" cried Thrackles.
We turned at the word and ran, Thrackles staggering under the weight of
the chest. All our belongings we abandoned, and set out for the _Laughing
Lass_ with only the tatters in which we stood. Luckily for us a great part
of the ship's stores had been returned to her hold after the last thorough
scrubbing, so we were in subsistence, but all our clothes, all our
personal belongings, were left behind us on the beach. For after once we
had topped the cliff that led over to the cove, I doubt if any
consideration on earth would have induced us to return to that accursed
place.
The row out to the ship was wet and dangerous. Seismic disturbances were
undoubtedly responsible for high pyramidic waves that lifted and fell
without onward movement. We fairly tumbled up out of the dory, which we
did not hoist on deck, but left at the end of the painter to beat her
sides against the ship.
XVII
THE OPEN SEA
Our haste, however, availed us little, for there was no wind at all. We
lay for over two hours under the weird light, over-canopied by the red-
brown cloud, while the explosions shook the foundations of the world.
Nobody ventured below. The sails flapped idly from the masts: the blocks
and spars creaked: the three-cornered waves rose straight up and fell
again as though reaching from the deep.
When the men first began to sweat the sails up, evidently in preparation
for an immediate departure, I objected vehemently.
"You aren't going to leave him on the island," I cried. "He'll die of
starvation."
They did not answer me; but after a little more, when my expostulations
had become more positive, Handy Solomon dropped the halliard, and drew me
to one side.
"Look here, you," he snarled, "you'd better just stow your gab. You're
lucky to be here yourself, let alone botherin' your thick head about
anybody else, and you can kiss the Book on that! Do you know why you ain't
with them carrion?" He jerked his thumb toward the beach. "It's because
Solomon Anderson's your friend. Thrackles would have killed you in a
minute 'count of his bit hand. I got you your chance. Now don't you be a
fool, for I ain't goin' to stand between you and them another time.
Besides, he won't last long if that volcano keeps at it."
He left me. Whatever truth lay in his assumption of friendship, and I
doubted there existed much of either truth or friendship in him, I saw the
common sense of his advice. I was in no position to dictate a course of
action.
After the sails were on her we gathered at the starboard rail to watch the
shore. There the hills ran into inky blackness, as the horizon sometimes
merges into a thunder squall. A dense white steam came from the creek bed
within the arroyo. The surges beat on the shore louder than the ordinary,
and the foam, even in these day hours, seemed to throw up a faint
phosphorescence. Frequent earthquakes oscillated the landscape. We
watched, I do not know for what, our eyes straining into the murk of the
island. Nobody thought of the chest, which lay on the cabin table aft. I
contributed maliciously my bit to their fear.
"These volcanic islands sometimes sink entirely," I suggested, "and in
that case we'd be carried down by the suction."
It was intended merely to increase their uneasiness, but, strangely
enough, after a few moments it ended by imposing itself on my own fears. I
began to be afraid the island would sink, began to watch for it, began to
share the fascinated terror of these men.
The suspense after a time became unbearable, for while the portent--
whether physical or moral we were too far under its influence to
distinguish--grew momentarily, our own souls did not expand in due
correspondence. We talked of towing, of kedging out, of going to any
extreme, even to small boats. Then just as we were about to move toward
some accomplishment, a new phenomenon chained our attention to the shore.
In the mouth of the arroyo appeared a red glow. A moment later a wave of
lava, white-hot, red, iridescent, cooling to a black crust cracked in
incandescence, rolled majestically out over the grassy plain. Each instant
it grew in volume, until the ravine must have been flowing half full.
Before its scorching the grasses even at the edge of the sea were smoking,
and our camp had already burst into flames. We had to shield our faces
against the heat, and the wooden railing under our hands was growing warm.
Pulz turned an ashy countenance toward us.
"My God," he screamed. "What's going to happen when she hits the sea?"
She hit the sea, and immediately a great cloud of steam arose, and the
hissing as of a thousand serpents. We felt the strong suction under our
keel, and staggered under the jerk of the ship's cable as she swung toward
the beach. The paint was beginning to crackle along the rail. We could see
nothing for the scalding white veil that enveloped us; we could hear
nothing for the roar of steam, the bombardment of explosions, and the
crash of thunder; but our nostrils were assaulted by a most unearthly
medley of smells.
"Hell's loose," growled Thrackles.
We were clinging hard as the ship reeled. Huge surges were racing in from
seaward, growing larger with each successive billow.
Handy Solomon raised his head, listened intently, and struck his forehead.
"Wind," he screamed at the top of his voice, and jumped for the halliards.
Thrackles followed him, but no one else moved. In an instant the two were
back, striking and kicking savagely, rousing their companions to the
danger. We all laid into the canvas like mad, and in no time had snugged
down to a staysail and the peak of our mainsail. Thrackles drew his knife
and jumped for the cable, while Handy Solomon, his eyes snapping, seized
the wheel.
We finished just in time. I was turning away after tying the last gasket
on the foresail, when the deck up-ended and tipped me headforemost into
the starboard scupper. At the same time a smother of salt water blew over
the port rail, now far above me, to drench me as thoroughly as though I
had fallen overboard. I brushed out my eyes to find the ship smack on her
beam ends, and the wind howling by from the sea.
I had company enough in the scuppers. Only Handy Solomon clung desperately
to the wheel, jamming his weight to port in the hope she might pay up:
Thrackles, too, his eye squinted along some bearing of his own, was
waiting for her to drag. Presently it became evident that she was doing
so, whereupon he drew his knife across our hawser.
"My God," chattered Pulz at my ear. "If we go ashore--"
He did not need to finish. Unless the _Laughing Lass_ could recover before
the squall had driven her to leeward a scant half mile, we should be
cooked alive in the boiling cauldron at the shore's edge.
For an interminable time, as it seemed to me, we lay absolutely
motionless. The scene is stamped indelibly on my memory--the bulwarks high
above me, the steep, sleek deck, the piratical figure tense at the wheel,
the snarling water racing from beneath us, the lurid glow to landward
crawling up on us inch by inch like a hungry wild beast. Then almost
imperceptibly the brave schooner righted. The strained lines on Handy
Solomon's carven features relaxed little by little. Thrackles, staring
over the side, let out a mighty roar.
"Steerage way," he shouted, and executed an awkward clog dance on the
reeling deck.
She moved forward, there was no doubt of that, for gradually we were
eating toward the wind--but we made considerable leeway as well. Handy
Solomon, taut as the weather rigging, took his little advantages one by
one like precious gifts. Light there was none; the land was blotted out by
the steam and murk which had crept to sea and now was hurled back by the
wind. All we could do was to hang there, tasting the copper of excitement,
waiting for these different forces to adjust themselves. Inch by inch we
crept forward: foot by foot we made leeway. The intensest of the lava glow
worked its way from directly abeam to the quarter. By this we knew we must
be nearly opposite the cove. At once a new doubt sprang up in our minds.
A moment ago all the energy of our desires had gone up in the ambition to
avoid being cast on the beach. Now we saw that that was not enough. It was
necessary to squeeze around the point where lay the _Golden Horn_, in
order to avoid the fate that had overtaken her. Handy Solomon yelled
something at us. We could not hear, but our own knowledge told us what it
must be, and with one accord we turned to on the foresail. With the peak
of it hoisted we moved a trifle faster, though the schooner lay over at a
perilous angle. A moment later the fogs parted to show us the cliffs
looming startlingly near. There were the donkey engine and the works we
had constructed for wrecking--and there beside them, watching us
reflectively, stood Percy Darrow.
For ten minutes we stared at him fascinated, during which time the ship
laboured against the staggering winds, gained and lost in its buffeting
with the great surges. The breakers hurling themselves in wild abandon
against the rocks sent their back-wash of tumbling peaks to our very
bilges. The few remains of the _Golden Horn_, alternately drenched and
draining, seemed to picture to us our inevitable end.
I think we had all selected the same two points for our "bearings," a rock
and a drop of the cliff bolder than the ordinary. If the rock opened from
the cliff to eastward, we were lost; if it remained stationary, we were at
least holding our own; if it opened out to westward, we were saved. We
watched with a strained eagerness impossible to describe. At each
momentary gain or rebuff we uttered ejaculations. The Nigger mumbled
charms. Every once in a while one of us would snatch a glance to leeward
at the cruel, white waters, the whirl of eddies where the sea was beaten,
only to hurry back to the rock and the point of the cliff whence our
message of safety or destruction was to be flung. Once I looked up. Percy
Darrow was leaning gracefully against a stanchion, watching. His soft hat
was pulled over his eyes; he stroked softly his little moustache; I caught
the white puff of his cigarette. During the moment of my inattention
something happened. A wild shout burst from the men. I whirled, and saw to
my great joy a strip of sky westward between the cliff and the rock. And
at that very instant a billow larger than the ordinary rolled beneath us,
and in the back suction of its passage I could dimly make out cruel,
dangerous rocks lying almost under our keel.
Slowly we crept away. Our progress seemed infinitesimal, and yet it was
real. In a while we had gained sea room; in a while more we were fairly
under sailing way, and the cliffs had begun to drop from our quarter. With
one accord we looked back. Percy Darrow waved his hand in an indescribably
graceful and ironic gesture; then turned square on his heel and sauntered
away to the north valley, out of the course of the lava. That was the last
I ever saw of him.
As we made our way from beneath the island, the weight of the wind seemed
to lessen. We got the foresail on her, then a standing jib; finally little
by little all her ordinary working canvas. Before we knew it, we were
bowling along under a stiff breeze, and the island was dropping astern.
From a distance it presented a truly imposing sight. The centre shot
intermittent blasts of ruddy light; explosions, deadened by distance,
still reverberated strongly; the broad canopy of brown-red, split with
lightnings, spread out like a huge umbrella. The lurid gloom that had
enveloped us in the atmosphere apparently of a nether world had given
place to a twilight. Abruptly we passed from it to a sun-kissed, sparkling
sea. The breeze blew sweet and strong; the waves ran untortured in their
natural long courses.
At once the men seemed to throw off the superstitious terror that had
cowed them. Pulz and Thrackles went to bail the extra dory, alongside,
which by a miracle had escaped swamping. The Nigger disappeared in the
galley. Perdosa relieved Handy Solomon at the wheel; and Handy Solomon
came directly over to me.
XVIII
THE CATASTROPHE
He approached me with a confidence that proclaimed the new leader. A brace
of Colt's revolvers swung from his belt, the tatters of his blood-stained
garments hung about him.
"Well, here we are," he remarked.
I nodded, waiting for what he had to disclose.
"And lucky for you that you're here at all, say I," he continued. "And now
that you're here, w'at are you going to do? That's the question--w'at are
you going to do?" He cocked his head sidewise and looked at me
speculatively as a cat might look at a rather large mouse. "We been a
little rough," he went on after a moment, "and some folks is strait-laced.
There might be trouble. And you know a heap too much."
"What do you want of me?" I demanded.
"It's just this," he returned briskly. "If you'll lay us our course to San
Salvador, we'll let you go as one of us and no questions asked."
"If not?" I inquired.
He shrugged his shoulders. "I leave it to you."
"There's always the sea," I suggested.
"And it's deep," he agreed.
We looked out to the horizon in a diplomatic silence. I did not know
whether to be angry, amused, or alarmed that the man estimated my
cleverness so slightly. Why, the hook was barely concealed, and the bait
of the coarsest. That I would go safe to a sight of San Salvador I did not
doubt: that I would never enter the harbour I was absolutely certain. The
choice offered me was practically whether I preferred being thrown
overboard now or several hundred miles to southeastward.
I thought rapidly. It might be possible to announce a daily false
reckoning to the crew, to sail the ship within rowing distance of some
coast; and then to escape while the men believed themselves many hundred
miles at sea. It would take nice calculation to prevent suspicion, but as
it was the only chance I resolved upon it immediately.
"That's all very well," I said firmly, "but you can't get anywhere without
me, and I'm not going to put in two years and then keep my mouth shut for
nothing. I want a share in the swag--an even share with the rest of you."
"Oh, that'll be all right," he cried; "you can have it."