STUMPY FIRES THE MAGAZINE.
Milo and his slaves worked frenziedly at their task, his suddenly bitter
spirit flogging them to unremitting haste. In the giant's troubled face
the smoldering spark of resentment had grown to an incipient blaze that
required but a breath to burst into angry flame.
One great chest was filled with the choicest of the gems in the powder
store; it was set aside in the entrance beside the tapestry, and another
box was opened before the powder-kegs. Little Pascherette had ceased
moaning, but from time to time a choking sob sounded from her alcove
that increased the hard brilliancy of the light in Milo's eyes. The
great chamber was silent as a mausoleum in the intervals between the
clashing and tinkling of gold and stones in the chest; from the outside,
by way of the rock tunnel, came only the sigh and murmur of the crooning
breeze, the softened plash of the tide on the shore, the scream of
wheeling seabirds. All sound of the schooner had departed; there was no
human note in the whole region.
Then, as the second chest was almost full, and Milo pulled the third and
last along in readiness, from the secret gallery behind the Grove came
the shouts and oaths of men, weary, footsore men, but men with animal
appetites whetted by the day of bloody conflict. They could be heard at
the great door in the painting of the "Sleeping Venus"; not knowing its
secret their way was barred. But Stumpy's hoarse roar could be heard
calling them back to the ledge, and there was a note of menace in his
tired tones. And mingling with his voice was the voice of a woman of the
camp, raised in shrill complaint. Milo stepped to the picture and
listened.
"I tell ye the fiend has tricked ye, Stumpy!" the woman cried.
"Tricked me? Have a care how ye talk that way, woman!" Stumpy's voice
replied warningly.
"Aye, tricked ye and me and all of us! Even now--come to the cliff, and
I'll show ye."
The scrambling of heavy feet could be heard in the gallery as men rushed
out in answer. How many men Milo could not determine; but fewer than had
followed Stumpy into the forest in chase of their broken foes. The
slaves at the treasure-chests paused in their work, alarm on their
shining faces, looking ever toward Milo for instructions.
Milo ran back through the great chamber and out by the tunnel to the
cliff, peering around for Stumpy and hoping to see the schooner putting
back.
Without Dolores he was at a loss; yet he was not ready to leave his
charge to be gazed upon by untried eyes. His breast swelled nigh to
bursting at sight of the schooner. The Feu Follette was but half a mile
away in a straight line from the cliff; she had been tacking against a
light breeze and flood tide around the Point, and while she had sailed
several miles through the water, she had but just gained past the face
of the cliff. And far from returning, she sailed farther and farther
away as he watched, nursed with such skill of sheet and helm as proved
to Milo's seamanly eye that her people would never return of their free
will. And what of Dolores? His condor's vision picked her out as soon as
the schooner. Her gleaming arms and shoulders swept rhythmically over
and over, cleaving the sea easily and smoothly, her lustrous hair
streaming behind her, and the sun glinting brightly from the gold
circlet around her head. She was gaining foot by foot, and Milo keenly
scrutinized the schooner for signs of surrender. There were none. At the
schooner's rail three heads were visible; but Milo knew neither belonged
to Venner nor Pearse. That persuaded him that the schooner was unlikely
to come back. And the even, tireless manner in which Dolores swam
convinced him that she would follow to the end. Yet he would not utterly
believe she had deserted him. He glared around for the men whose voices
he heard now, raised in anger in chorus with the voices of the woman and
her companions. Stumpy stepped out from the grove path with but four men
behind him; and they were in sore plight. Stumpy himself dangled an idly
swinging sleeve that was stained dark-red to the shoulder. A red sear
across his nose and cheek rendered him a demoniacal figure through the
powder, smoke and sweat. And his mates were tattered and cut, their
shirts bore red splashes to a man; their grimed faces and fiery eyes
held the passions of blooded men who see their reward flying from them.
"I tell ye she's gone for good!" cried the woman who had brought the
news to Stumpy. "See, she's almost there, and three chests of treasure
have gone in that vessel! Her swimming after it is but a part of her
cuteness. Now d'ye believe, fools!"
The crippled, battle-scarred pirate glared to seaward with red-rimmed
eyes in which flames of revenge started into life. His twisted, warped
life had been spent in fighting and trickery; to-day his work had
culminated in a brave stand for what he thought to be straight and
right; reward he expected, but he had earned it with blood and sweat,
hoping at the last that some of his earlier transgressions might be
atoned for in his loyalty to his mistress.
He hurled aside the persistent women, who sought some reassuring word
from him, and mouthing rather than speaking a call to his men to follow,
he plunged again into the grove path and stumbled toward the ledge
entrance. Here he clambered painfully to the gallery, cursing to himself
bitterly, never looking back to see if his men followed, intent only
upon one absorbing thing. Revenge was beyond him, since there were left
no subjects for his revenge. He had never seen the great stone at the
chamber portals left rolled aside; could not even now imagine such a
situation. No, if Dolores were gone in truth, and with her the strangers
and the treasure, then it was certain, he thought, that the great
chamber was sealed forever. And he would see into its mysteries, even
though they proved barren now. He knew the way; Dolores had shown him.
Feverishly hunting for a flint, he tore some threads from his shirt and
frayed them into tow. Then with his cutlas he struck a spark and ignited
his threads, carefully nursing the tiny flame until he could find a dry
stick. This lasted him until a pine torch was found, and then he crawled
along the gallery in search of the powder train. That, he knew, for she
had told him, would burst the rock asunder anyhow; and that would be
enough, for he had guessed shrewdly that the gallery was connected with
the great chamber by some secret egress.
And who knew? Might not Dolores have taken in her haste but part of her
vast store? Stumpy knew as well as Red Jabez the tremendous wealth that
had been deposited in that chamber of mysteries; for he had been with
the red chief from the beginning; he had seen with his own eyes the
riches of a hundred ships taken in there, and never a thing come out.
"She can't have bagged the lot," he muttered, fanning his torch into a
red flare. "But she'll pay for deserting Stumpy, or Stumpy's a liar!"
He found the powder train, and the moisture had dried from it, leaving
only a little line of dry, quick-igniting powder. He was not sure just
where the magazine was; not sure how long the train would burn before
the explosion. So down he clambered again, searching at the great altar
for the water-vessels he knew should be there. Then, with a jar of
water, he returned to his train, and swiftly swept up the dry powder and
moistened it a little, making a rough slow match of it.
"Now we'll see the sights!" he growled, and went to the end of the
gallery and flung his torch into the train.
He watched it for a moment, to be sure that it would burn, then stepped
down from the ledge and drew back a safe distance to watch the upheaval.
To what extent the mine was intended to destroy he had no idea. He
simply knew that Dolores had pointed it out to him as a means of defense
should the gallery be carried in the attack. He supposed, therefore,
that it would shatter the gallery. Doing that, it must surely dislodge
or loosen rock enough for him to break into the great chamber with aid.
The thought recalled his men to his mind, and he saw for the first time
that they had not followed him. He started down the path toward the
camp, shouting to them by name, eager to give them an inkling of the
treat in store. But his hail was answered by another, and down the path
a woman appeared running, her hair flying, and tremendous excitement in
every line of her face.
"Stumpy! Stumpy!" she sobbed and cried in hysterical intoxication. "Oh,
Stumpy, the great chamber is open, and it's full of gold and treasure!"