I COMMIT THE ERROR OF MY LIFE.
We pulled ashore like anything but a wedding party. Cynthia seemed
depressed, and to see her so made me feel like a villain. The Bo's'n
still was stroke, and I laid to with a will in the bows. I reflected
that I had probably touched Cynthia's hand for the last time for some
months to come.
When we disembarked, Lacelle waited for Cynthia. She took her hand in
hers and pressed it to her heart. She raised her eyes to Cynthia's as a
dog or other animal of lower intelligence might look at a master, as if
to say: "Is it as you wish? Are they treating you as you should like to
be treated?" At this, Cynthia smiled and nodded her head, and patted
Lacelle's hand when the girl returned the smile in a satisfied way. We
left the boat and walked up toward the cave, where we found the Minion
standing on the shore. He, however, was across the stream on the
opposite side from us. I jumped into the boat again and went to fetch
him. The Minion now, instead of looking red and swollen, was pale and
weary. He tumbled into the bows in a weak and dizzy sort of way, and got
out as feebly when we reached the bank of our own side of the stream.
"Secret," whispered the Minion in my ear.
"Very well," said I. "I will listen when I have the time. I am busy
now."
We all sat upon the beach enjoying the beauty of the late evening. The
Bo's'n made us some coffee, and with ship's biscuit, oysters, a small
bit of pork, water from the arch beneath the rock, and some guavas and
mangoes to top off with, we made an excellent meal.
"You have given us a very nice supper, Bo's'n," volunteered Cynthia. "I
find that a row like that gives one an appetite."
"Perhaps it was gettin' married, miss," remarked the Bo's'n, "though it
usually takes away the appetite, ma'm. This you know"--waving his hands
comprehensively over the remains of the feast--"is the wedding
breakfast, Mrs. and Mr. Jones, sir."
Cynthia gave a start and glanced hurriedly at me. I must confess that it
had never occurred to me that Cynthia would take my name--that is, not
since she said on board the Yankee that "Jones was impossible." She got
very red, and turned away and walked with Lacelle up the hill. The
Skipper was taking his usual glass. He poured out a double amount. He
held the cup out to the Minion, who, pale and headachy, was lying with
his back to the dish of pork.
"Take some," said the Skipper, with his favourite addition, "It won't do
you any good."
The Minion for reply edged away and closed his eyes. We sat silent a
while as the Bo's'n washed his utensils and gathered up the remains of
my wedding breakfast.
The Skipper was saying something about the horrors of the married state,
when we heard the voice of Cynthia calling to him.
"What is it?" shouted back the Skipper.
Then we heard a sentence which ended with "gone."
"No, he's here."
"Who? Young Trevelyan?"
"No, Jones!--Thought she'd like to come down and enjoy the moonlight,
Jones, if she knew you were gone." Pleasant for the bridegroom of an
hour!
"Listen, Uncle."
"Well, I am listening; talk louder."
And then came the words, "Young Trevelyan's gone."
"Oh, well, perhaps he's just taking a little stroll."
The Minion turned over and allowed two words to escape him:
"Run'd away."
"How do you know?" asked the Skipper; and then added, "But no one would
believe you if you swore it on the Westminster Catechism."
"In a boat."
"Now I know you're lyin'."
The Minion nodded his head, still weakly persistent, and then laid down
again upon the grassy slope of the beach.
"There ain't any boat hereabouts," said the Bo's'n, "begging your
par----"
He stopped short and surveyed the Minion contemptuously, "Forgot it was
you."
"Dinghy," said the Minion.
The Captain arose lazily. "Don't talk with that fool, Bo's'n. I'm tired
as three men. I'll go to bed." Bed! Poor Skipper! The soft side of a
rock was his bed. I followed the Skipper shortly, and found him in close
conversation with Cynthia.
"How can you be sure he's gone?" asked the Skipper.
"Why, one proof is that my blanket and pillow are gone, too."
"The ungrateful wretch!" said the Skipper.
"I don't believe he's ungrateful," said Cynthia. "He never seemed
ungrateful. Perhaps the pirates came back and took him off. I
wonder"--with a look in my direction--"if that handsome pirate was with
them?"
"No," said I. "You may quiet your mind on that point; he's gone where
all good pirates go."
"Where?" asked Cynthia.
"To the nethermost hell," answered the Skipper. "And I helped put him
there."
"Of course, I don't believe you, Uncle," said Cynthia, "but----"
"The Minion seemed to know something," said the Bo's'n. "Suppose we ask
him again."
"Torture wouldn't get more than two words out of him at a time," said I.
"I can," said Cynthia, with a triumphant glance at me. Accordingly,
Cynthia proceeded again to the shore with her Uncle to interrogate the
Minion. She gathered, after an hour's hard prodding and digging,
interspersed with sudden roars mixed with a few judicious oaths from the
Skipper to give her inquiries point, that the Minion awoke and found
that he was quite alone. He raised up on his elbow and discovered our
boat far out at sea. He supposed that it was our boat, as he saw several
persons get out and on to the wreck. He laid down again, too dizzy to
keep his eyes open any longer. He was aroused by a rustling in the
grass, and turned over to see a man carrying the young Englishman in his
arms. The Minion, afraid of nothing in heaven or hell, said "Hi!" when
the man turned his head, and the Minion discovered that the intruder was
no other than the Smith, who had riveted the cages upon the lad and
myself. The Minion, with his limited vocabulary, managed to call the
Smith a thief, and asked him why he was stealing the boy; whereupon the
Smith asked him if his grandmother knew that he was in Haiti. This
enraged the Minion to such an extent that he raised up on his elbow and
threw stones at the Smith. He was especially angry when he saw Cynthia's
pillow and blanket carried down and placed in the boat. The young man
seemed to protest, but the Smith told him that it was the rule in the
British navy to obey first and protest afterward, and the lad seemed too
weak to make much opposition. The Smith helped himself to our biscuit
and some of our water, taking one of our few utensils to carry it in. He
also took a cup and got in and rowed away.
"Which way did he go?" asked Cynthia.
The Minion pointed eastward. He furthermore informed Cynthia that he saw
a name upon the bow of the boat, and again when she started toward the
east he saw the same name, and that he spelled it over to himself, and
that he was sure that it was "Yankee Blade, No. 3."
"That's mighty curious," said the Skipper, scratching his head.
"And he tells me, Uncle, that the man he calls the Smith left a letter
for you. He says it's in a place where you will find it first thing."
"Must be the rum bottle," said the Skipper, with peculiar insight. And
so it was, for he found the scrawl sticking in the cleft made in the
cork.
"Paddon the libutty I takes," wrote the Smith. "I opened a sawtchell and
got this paper and penzill wen I found the lad wassent yere in the bigg
cavern i sarched i had a fite with a big brown feller but but wen i tell
im ime goan fer young trevelin he lets me in i see the brown feller goan
in or i nevver shuld have find the place we had a fite outside meanin a
shipes fite it was dawk i see the dingee floatin i slips overbord and
swimms fer her i tears up one of the planks and paddels i lies by all
day wen you go i come the is a british vessel down the coast ime a rowin
fer her if i git her ill come fer you i take my recompens before hand in
shipes biskits and RUM the lady must excuse my takin her pillar my boys
bad and needs em so wishin you luck and ill come if i git a chance no
more at presens from yours till deth james taler penock."
Cynthia and Lacelle disappeared during the reading of this finished
epistle, and the Skipper, Bo's'n, and I were alone. I forgot to mention
the Minion. He counted somewhat now, as he had told us something of real
consequence.
Before I lay down to sleep the Bo's'n drew me confidentially aside. "The
Minion has been after me," said he in a low tone, "and he says he has
found a cave full of jewels, and they're his property, and no one shan't
touch 'em. He's goin' to declare it before us all, and call the Skipper
and God to witness his statement, and he says he'll blow on us to the
Government as soon as we get home if any of us touches a ring or a pin
of it."
"What did you tell him?" said I, rather alarmed, I must confess.
"I told him he had been overcome with liquor in the cave, and that he
imagined all those things. He swears it's so, and I swears it ain't, and
that's where it is now. I thought of tyin' him up and not lettin' him go
in the cave at all."
"I wouldn't watch him," said I. "Just let him go in if he wants to. I
suppose you have removed all the traces, Bo's'n?"
"Yes, sir," said the simple Bo's'n. "I suppose you kept your promise to
me, and sat with your back against the outer side of the cave?"
"Yes, Bo's'n, I did," said I. "Of course, I couldn't help finding your
neckerchief, you know."
"But I can trust you not to mention that, Mr. Jones, sir, to any one?"
"Oh, certainly, Bo's'n, you need have no fear of my telling your--our
secret."
The night of my marriage was a very dark and gloomy one. I had been
asleep but a short time when I was awakened by the Skipper. The Bo's'n
was lying as far from us as he could get. His antipathy to the Skipper
had not abated, and at night especially he seemed afraid to come
anywhere near him. He was sleeping heavily, poor man! Most of the work
came upon the Bo's'n, and I'm afraid we did not appreciate his
willingness as much as we should have done.
"I have a favour to ask," whispered the Skipper.
"Ask ahead," said I. "You've done me a service to-day, Captain, which
shall be a real one in time, or I'll know the reason why."
"What's that?" asked the Skipper in amazement.
"Well, no matter, if your memory's so short. Now what can I do for you?"
"I've been lyin' awake thinkin'," said the Skipper.
"So have I," I answered.
"Not what I was thinkin' of, I'll be bound," said the Skipper. "Man, as
a usual thing, is so regardless of his fellow-man." The Skipper nodded
his head several times, as if he were the one considerate creature that
God ever made. "Man is selfish, man is occupied only with his own small
affairs."
"Yes, sir," said I. "That is so."
"I was thinkin' as I lay down to-night," continued the old man in a real
Wednesday-evening-meeting voice, "that those poor critters need a rest,
too."
"You mean the Bo's'n and the Minion?" said I. "Yes, they do, we all do!
You as much as the rest, Captain."
"If noses can speak," returned the Skipper, "the Bo's'n and the Minion
are getting all they need just at present. I'm speakin' of those poor
soldiers of fortune who have been standin' up for years, perhaps."
"Soldiers of fortune?" I said inquiringly.
"Well, I call 'em so. And of a pretty bad fortune, too. Now what I want
of you is to come help me bury 'em."
"Oh, you mean the skeletons?" said I.
"I do," said the Skipper. I saw that the religious mania had got the
weather side of him again.
"What! now?" said I. "It's so late, and I want a little sleep, too."
"I can not sleep until they are buried," said he. "Poor things, with no
rest for the soles of their feet. I shall sleep easier when they are
under the sod."
"We haven't any shovels, you know, Captain," I remonstrated.
"Under the sod figgeratively speakin'," said the Skipper. "We'll give
'em, as we did those two poor shipmates of ours, a burial at sea."
"But I don't see any sense in it, Captain. What is the hurry? Why won't
to-morrow do? I'm so tired of funerals and weddings and bones and other
horrors of all sorts."
I heard a faint exclamation, and looked up to see Cynthia standing at
the back of the cave. She had come to ask for some water.
"Tired of weddings and other horrors," murmured Cynthia under her
breath.
I rose to my feet, ignoring her, and addressed myself to the Skipper.
"You'll be getting ordained next, Captain," said I. "Probably as soon as
we get back to Belleville."
I saw the flutter of Cynthia's dress as she vanished between the
pillars, and then I turned to the Captain.
"Come on!" said I. "I wonder how many more of these ghastly, ghostly
things I'll have to do before I can get any rest."
Clearly the wedding upon the wreck had awakened the Skipper's enthusiasm
in regard to religious services as performed by him.
I saw that Cynthia had disappeared so soon as she made her observation
upon my remark. Well, why should I be silent and willing to ever play
the part of a brow-beaten lover? I let her go without a word of protest
or remonstrance. I felt that I had protested too much, like some lady of
whom I had read in a book picked up in some of my various voyages, and I
decided to protest no more--at least to her about my love for her.
The night was overcast and dark. A slight rain was pattering on the
leaves overhead. I discovered this as I emerged from the cave. I
stumbled against the Skipper, who had stopped and was holding his hand
out to learn whether we had falling weather or not.
"It's a horrid night to go, Captain," said I, hoping that his religious
fervour would weaken.
"Yes, it is," said the Skipper, "but that makes my conscience all the
more satisfied. It's a disagreeable thing to do, and we have a
disagreeable night to do it in, but I shall feel so much better when it
is well over. The more unpleasant our task, the more rewarded I shall
feel."
I saw that my remonstrances were of no avail, and I plucked up my
resolve, opened wide my sleep-benumbed eyes, and prepared to play the
game of follow my leader, as a soldier his general, an acolyte his
priest, a sailor his captain. As I have hinted before, it was a real
dissipation for him, and, oh, how he enjoyed it!
We stumbled up the hill in the dark, bumping against trees and catching
our feet in roots, even falling on our knees at times, and once we fell
over each other and rolled down the hill. I was rather angry at this fad
of the Skipper's, but I kept my temper and struggled on up the slope,
over the top, and down the other side to the entrance of the great hall.
I struck fire and examined the lamp. The oil was gone. We could do
nothing in that direction, as we had no more fluid that would burn. I
made a little fire on the floor of the cave, though dry sticks were hard
to find. While I was so engaged, the Skipper was going through with his
self-imposed task of taking the skeletons down from the niches where
they hung. I remember that he had rather a difficult piece of work, for
the dreadful things fell upon him with many a chink and rattle after he
had unriveted the chain at the top of each arch. The Skipper was a
strong man for his height, and unaided, except by their own gravity, he
took the grewsome bones down and laid them upon the floor.
And now came the unpleasant part of the business to me. I had made a
small torch of a pitchy sort of wood, that burns faintly for a while,
and this I bound to my head with my handkerchief. The Skipper lighted
the torch at my head, then he stooped and raised one of the bodies from
the floor of the cave. I took the feet of the grewsome burden, the
Skipper carrying the head. I preceded the old man. First we must ascend
to the top of the hill, go over the crest, and then down on the western
side, where our boat lay securely fastened. I was surprised at the
weight of the bodies, but I recalled as a reason for this the presence
of the cages, which we thought it best not to remove. They held the
bones together, and kept them in position. I had found upon examination
that in some of their visits the pirates must have had the bodies
articulated, for in pirate crews were jacks of all trades, and thus at
last I understood how the skeletons could stand there as they had for so
long a time, the flesh and breath of life only wanting to make them
again men in the image of God. The humour of the pirates evidently had
been that the bodies should remain there forever, or until the cages
dropped to pieces, and that might have occurred several generations
hence. Four trips we had to make to the beach, not to speak of returning
to the great hall for our dead burdens. As we carried them down, down,
over hummocks, through knee-deep leaves, across bare rock and shingle,
the nature of our cargo oppressed me, and it seemed as if I must drop my
share suddenly and flee to the cave and to the companionship of even the
sleeping Bo's'n and the more than useless Minion.
Several times the Skipper called to me that some one was walking between
us. It is true that oftentimes it seemed as if the weight was very much
lightened, but I was hampered and found it difficult to even turn my
head. In fact, neither I nor the Skipper could well let go after once we
had started.
"There's a brown fellow holding on to the middle of this lord,"
whispered the Skipper loudly to me.
"Nonsense, Captain!" spoke I. "It's eerie enough without your making it
seem more so."
"It's a fact! Now I'm going to drop my end, and you'll see."
Accordingly, the Skipper did release his hold, when, to my horror, the
poor cage of bones came rattling to the earth.
"Lord! what a noise they make!" said the Skipper. "Well, I may be wrong.
Something's playing the devil with my eyesight lately."
I felt like suggesting as a remedy the use of plain water at bedtime,
but, though I had almost told the Skipper that I was no longer under his
orders, my feeling of discipline was so strong that I could not make up
my mind to say anything more of a rude or personal nature. So I held my
peace and struggled on with the weights on the downward trip, and barked
my shins and stubbed my toes on the return to the cavern.
At last they were all carried down to the shore--all those horrid,
pitiful travesties on Nature. I struck my flint that we might lift them
into the boat. It lasted but a moment; so finally I made a little fire
with what few dry sticks we could find, and by its light we placed the
four bodies on the thwarts. When we arrived at the beach for the last
time, I found a pile of bones huddled together, and by the remnant of
clothing which was still attached to the form I discovered it to be the
remains of the Chief Justice. I laid these bones by the others and got
into the boat. The tiny fire that I had made upon the beach was our
guide and beacon. Strange to say, it began to glow brighter as we drew
away from the shore, and I fancied that I saw a figure feeding the
gentle flame and keeping it alight for us. We rowed for half an hour
straight out to sea. The breeze was blowing fresh, but, beyond an
occasional star, we had no sort of light. When, however, one has
accustomed himself to going without a light at night, it is strange how
well he can find his way. It has been my experience that it is never
quite dark. I have heard of nights as black as Erebus, and even darker
places have been used as comparisons, but I have never found a night so
black that a little glow was not visible. The phosphorus of the waves as
they foam and curl is a slight aid, and a true mariner always feels that
he can see enough in the blackest night that good God ever made.
I rowed while the Skipper busied himself in preparing the cages with
their inclosures for final service. He must have been thinking of this
for some time, for he had well-twisted and braided ropes made of some of
the brocade ready to fasten to the cages, and he had placed rocks in the
boat which had been selected with great care. In fact, he told me that
he had aided Nature in hollowing the depression round the middle of the
stones, so that the rope could not slip. As we dropped the great parcels
over the side there was a splash, a sudden tightening of the rope and a
quick rush downward, followed by the meeting of the waters above. For my
part I wanted to get over with the business as soon as possible. The
Skipper was going through all sorts of religious didos. I heard him
mumbling part of the wedding service, mixed with the Declaration of
Independence, which in those days we all thought it sacrilegious not to
know. There was something holy about it to us, and it seemed very
appropriate to me. But when the Skipper ended with "Ashes to ashes and
dust to dust," I looked at the dark water which lapped against the boat
and shook my head. The old man did not perceive it, and we rowed back to
shore, I turning my head every now and then to see if the little spark
of flame was still there.
At last we reached the beach, and glad enough was I when we had fastened
the boat safely and had again climbed upward to the cavern. My coming in
awoke the Bo's'n, for it was nearly morning now, still dark, but about
half after three, as nearly as I could judge. The Skipper had left me at
the entrance of the cave, saying that he wished to go round to the great
hall which had for so long been the tomb of those dead men and offer up
some prayers. I argued with him that it was not after the manner of
Protestants to pray for the dead; but he turned away without more words,
and I heard him scrambling up through the dark and solitary woods. I
feared for the old man's mind; but I knew that nothing could turn him
when once he took a notion into his head, so I entered the cave alone.
The Bo's'n was yawning and stretching his arms placidly.
I was the only one to greet him as he awoke.
"At last," said I, "I shall be glad to lie down, Bo's'n. Don't you
disturb me in the morning until I can't sleep any longer."
"Yes, Mr. Jones, sir," said he. "Mrs. Jones has been in asking for her
Uncle, and when she saw that you wassent here, sir, she seemed much
worried. She asked if any new comple--compli--Well, something or other
had arose."
"Bo's'n," said I, "I'm awfully sleepy, but I believe I will tell you
where I have been. You will be glad to know that one horror is removed
from this unpleasant place."
"I shall, indeed, sir," said the Bo's'n, beaming upon me a joyful smile.
"I shall be glad to hear any good news, Mr. Jones. What is it, sir? Do
tell me." I was glad to be able to cheer this amiable soul, and, though
overpowered with sleep, I began:
"Bo's'n, I was asleep a while back--yes, more than two hours ago--when
the Skipper came and awoke me and proposed something."
"Yes, sir," said the Bo's'n interestedly.
"I was really too tired, and I thought of calling you to help me, but I
reflected that you were as tired as I, so I said I would aid in anything
he wanted to do."
"That was kind, sir," said the Bo's'n. "It was like you, Mr. Jones. You
can sleep now. I will see that no one wakes you."
"So I went with him to----"
"Yes, sir, yes, sir," the Bo's'n hurried me on breathlessly. "I'm wide
awake now, sir, Mr. Jones, and it's so pleasant to hear something good
once more. But don't let me interrupt you, Mr. Jones. Do go on."
"You will be glad, I know, Bo's'n, and so will every one of our party,
really glad. When I think of this night's work, I do not regret the
wind, or the dark, or the drizzling rain." The Bo's'n looked at me with
impatience. "Well, to return to the Captain, he came and asked me to
help him bury the skeletons."
"THE WHAT!" roared the Bo's'n.
"Skeletons, the skeletons, and we took them down----"
"WHAT!" roared the Bo's'n again, in a tone somewhat between a squeal and
a howl.
"And we buried them----"
"IN THE GROUND, I HOPE, SIR!"
"No, Bo's'n, in a much safer place than the ground. A purer, sweeter
place, the place where poor Jack always wishes to lie. We buried them in
the deep blue sea." My eye was moist, and I felt holy and poetic.
"WHAT--! WHAT----! WHAT----!" With each word the Bo's'n's scream became
more wild.
"At sixty fathoms, I should think, Bo's'n."
Now there was a faint "What?"
I looked at the Bo's'n. He was doubled up as if he had been taken with
the colic. His arms clasped round his knees, he was weaving back and
forth as if the agony that he suffered was excruciating in its
intensity, and I doubt not from my own later attack that it was. He
writhed, he groaned, he weaved, he wailed like a new-born infant. He
roared like a lion, he gnashed his teeth and howled, he wept scalding
tears. He rolled over and over in the dust of the cavern floor. He
clutched his hair. His body shook as if he were in a rigor.
"Bo's'n! Bo's'n!" I cried. "What is it? What can I do for you? There is
a little rum left in the bottle--take this."
I seized the bottle and tried to force some drops down his throat; but
he shook himself away from me, scrambled to the other side of the cave,
where he squatted in a corner, and glared at me as if he were a wild
beast, and as if I had been one, too.
"Bo's'n! Bo's'n!" I said to him encouragingly. But he sat doubled up in
a heap, glowering at me with basilisk eye. He emitted at intervals howls
of rage and pain, the like of which I had never heard equalled. I felt
sure that he had suddenly gone out of his mind.
"What have you done to the poor man, Mr. Jones?" asked Cynthia.
I turned to see her standing there. Her hair had fallen down, and some
of the wild fern of which we had made her bed was sticking in it, poor
dear!
"Done to him? You forget yourself, Miss Archer."
She started as I addressed her. I turned again to the Bo's'n.
"I don't like your looking at me in that way, Bo's'n," said I.
Whereupon the Bo's'n leaped into midair with a howl and a gnashing of
the teeth at me. They were swift, sharp snaps, that made me jump higher
even than he did himself. I looked about for a place of refuge.
"They know a coward when they see one," said Cynthia. "They are just
like animals for the time being." She approached the Bo's'n guardedly
and held out her hand to him with a frightened look on her face.
"Here, Bo's'n, Bo's'n, good Bo's'n," she said, as if coaxing a dog.
"Better go away, ma'm. I'm afraid I'll bite," snapped the Bo's'n.
Cynthia jumped back with a little squeal.
"Come, no more of this nonsense!" said I.
"Get out!" said the Bo's'n.
"I don't like to have you speak so to me, Bo's'n," said I. "It isn't
pleasant, and it isn't respectful."
"You'll find it a damned sight more disrespectful, sir, before I've done
with you, Mr. Jones, sir," answered the Bo's'n.
"What is it, Bo's'n? Do tell me."
By this time the Bo's'n had his arms held tightly round his stomach, as
if the pain was too great to bear. I walked across the floor of the cave
and stretched out my hand to him, speaking in a soothing voice, and
begging him to let me do something to make him easier.
"Don't come near me, Mr. Jones, sir," said the man. "I am afraid of what
I shall do to you. I knew--I knew it! When you threw that--that--you
know--in the water----"
"If there has been mischief done, Bo's'n, let me repair it," said I.
"Can you raise the dead?" asked the Bo's'n in tones sepulchral.
"You have driven the poor man crazy, Mr. Jones," said Cynthia.
I turned my back on her. I was very angry with the Bo's'n and with her.
"Can you plunge to the bottom of the sea and bring up them corpses?"
"No," said I; "of course not. Why should I?"
By this time the Bo's'n had stopped howling and had taken on the
sarcastic tone.
"Hope you took a range, sir," said he, surveying me with the most utter
scorn.
"Why should I take a range? It was pitch dark. You couldn't see your
hand before your face. I don't know where we were. We rowed half an
hour, as near as I can judge, and then, after we had buried them, we
turned round and rowed back again."
By this time the Bo's'n had collapsed entirely; he lay on the floor
without moving.
"Do let me do something for you, Bo's'n," said Cynthia.
At this the Bo's'n rose to a sitting posture.
"What you can do for me, Mrs. Jones, ma'm, is to go back to your room
and stay there."
"O Bo's'n!" said Cynthia, who had never been accustomed to find her
presence unwelcome.
"I can only pity you, ma'm, for havin' wrecked your young life on such a
wuthless scandal as him."
Cynthia started, and looked at me as if the Bo's'n knew more if he only
chose to tell.
I turned to the Bo's'n, much enraged.
"Go quick, please, ma'm, I want to swear, and I can't wait many
minutes." Cynthia fled. Then the Bo's'n turned to me:
"Will you pardon me, sir, if I say, 'Damn you, Mr. Jones!'?"
I gazed in amaze at the usually placid Bo's'n.
"You will have to damn the Captain, too, then," said I. "He planned the
expedition, and I only helped him carry it out."
"I hope he'll come in while I'm a blasphemin'," said the Bo's'n. "I
shall want him to get his full share."
The Captain had been standing in the shadow of the entrance listening to
the Bo's'n's ravings. He now entered and approached the man.
"What's the matter with him?" he said, looking at me. "He's been working
his jawing tackle for the last ten minutes steady."
"I think his case is serious, Captain," said I. "I really think he's
lost his mind. He's been rolling round here like a madman."
The Captain turned his gaze on the Bo's'n.
"You said you hoped I'd come in," said he. "Now don't put any stopper on
that jawing tackle of yours; go right on. I shall know how to fix you,
for it's mutiny, Mr. Bo's'n, and so you'll find out, rank mutiny!"
"Oh, is it?" said the Bo's'n, with stony face and glittering eye.
The Bo's'n raised his finger in air and shook it at me. He then took a
long breath and began, his hand shaking alternately at me and at the
Skipper.
"Damn you, sir, and damn you, sir, and damn you, sir, and damn you
again, sir! Do you hear me damning you, Mr. Jones, sir? And that damn
Cap'n, too, sir. Do you know what you done, sir, damn you? Do you know
that all those watches, and all those sparklers, and all those rings,
and all those chains, those emerals, and rubies, and saffirs, and
tuppazes, and diminds, and jools you said was worth a king's
ransom--all, all, all was inclosed and enwrapped and encompassed and
secreted in them damn carcasses?" I fell upon the ground and writhed
worse than the Bo's'n had done.