"Corrie," said Jo Bumpus, solemnly, with a troubled expression on his
grave face: "I've heer'd a-many a cry in this life, both ashore and
afloat; but, since I was half as long as a marline-spike, I've never
heer'd the likes o' that there screech nowhere."
At any other time the boy would have expressed a doubt as to the
possibility of the Grampus having, at any period of his existence, been
so short as "half the length of a marline-spike;" but, being very
imaginative by nature, and having been encouraged to believe in ghosts
by education, he was too frightened to be funny. With a face that might
very well have passed for that of a ghost, and a very pale ghost too, he
said, in a tremulous voice--
"Oh! dear Bumpus, what _shall_ we do?"
"Dun know," replied Jo, very sternly; for the stout mariner also
believed in ghosts, as a matter of course, (although he would not admit
it), and, being a man of iron mould and powerful will, there was at that
moment going on within his capacious breast, a terrific struggle between
natural courage and supernatural cowardice.
"Let's go back," whispered Corrie. "I know another pass over the hills.
It's a longer one, to be sure; but we can run, you know, to make for--"
He was struck dumb and motionless at this point by the recurrence of the
dreadful howling, louder than ever, as poor Poopy's despair deepened.
"Don't speak to me, boy," said Bumpus, still more sternly, while a cold
sweat stood in large beads on his pale forehead. "Here's wot I calls
somethin' new, an' it becomes a man, specially a British seaman, d'ye
see, to inquire into new things in a reasonable sort of way."
Jo caught his breath, and clutched the rock beside him powerfully, as he
continued--
"It ain't a ghost, in course; it _can't_ be that. Cause why? there's no
sich a thing as a ghost--"
"Ain't there?" whispered Corrie, hopefully.
The hideous yell that Poopy here set up, seemed to give the lie direct
to the sceptical seaman; but he went on deliberately, though with a
glazed eye, and a death-like pallor on his face--
"No; there ain't no ghosts--never wos, an' never will be. All ghosts is
sciencrific dolusions, nothing more; and it's only the hignorant an'
supercilious as b'lieves in 'em. _I_ don't; an', wots more," added Jo,
with tremendous decision, "I _won't_!"
At this point, the "sciencrific dolusion" recurred to her former idea of
alarming the settlement; and with this view began to retrace her steps,
howling as she went.
Of course, as Jo and his small companion had been guided by her
footsteps, it followed that Poopy, in retracing them, gradually drew
near to the terrified pair. The short twilight of those regions had
already deepened into the shades of night; so that the poor girl's form
was not at first visible, as she advanced from among the dark shadows of
the overhanging cliffs and the large masses of spattered rock that lay
strewn about that wild mountain pass.
Now, although John Bumpus succeeded, by an almost supernatural effort,
in calming the tumultuous agitation of his spirit, while the wild cries
of the girl were at some distance, he found himself utterly bereft of
speech when the dreadful sounds unmistakably approached him. Corrie,
too, became livid, and both were rooted to the spot in unutterable
horror; but when the ghost at length actually came into view, and,
(owing to Poopy's body being dark, and her garments white), presented
the appearance of a dimly luminous creature, without head, arms, or
legs, the last spark of endurance of man and boy went out. The one gave
a roar, the other a shriek, of horror, and both turned and fled like the
wind over a stretch of country, which, in happier circumstances, they
would have crossed with caution.
Poopy helped to accelerate their flight by giving vent to a cry of fear,
and thereafter to a yell of delight, as, from her point of view, she
recognised the well-known outline of Corrie's figure clearly defined
against the sky. She ran after them in frantic haste; but she might as
well have chased a couple of wild cats. Either terror is gifted with
better wings than hope, or males are better runners than females.
Perhaps both propositions are true; but certain it is that Poopy soon
began to perceive that the succour which had appeared so suddenly, was
about to vanish almost as quickly.
In this new dilemma, the girl once more availed herself of her slight
knowledge of the place, and made a detour, which enabled her to shoot
ahead of the fugitives and intercept them in one of the narrowest parts
of the mountain-gorge. Here, instead of using her natural voice, she
conceived that the likeliest way of making her terrified friends
understand who she was, would be to shout with all the strength of her
lungs. Accordingly, she planted herself suddenly in the centre of their
path, just as the two came tearing blindly round a corner of rock, and
set up a series of yells, the nature of which utterly beggars
description.
The result was, that with one short wild cry of renewed horror, Bumpus
and Corrie turned sharp round and fled in the opposite direction.
There is no doubt whatever that they would have succeeded in ultimately
escaping from this pertinacious ghost, and poor Poopy would have had to
make the best of her way to Sandy Cove alone, but for the fortunate
circumstance that Corrie fell; and, being only a couple of paces in
advance of his companion, Bumpus fell over him.
The ghost took advantage of this to run forward, crying out, "Corrie!
Corrie! Corrie!--it's me! _me_! ME!" with all her might.
"Eh! I do believe it knows my name," cried the boy, scrambling to his
feet, and preparing to renew his flight; but Bumpus laid his heavy hand
on his collar, and held him fast.
"Wot did it speak?"
"Yes; listen! Oh dear! come, fly!"
Instead of flying, the seaman heaved a deep sigh; and, sitting down on a
rock, took out a reddish brown cotton handkerchief wherewith he wiped
his forehead.
"My boy," said he, still panting; "it ain't a ghost. No ghost wos ever
known to _speak_. They looks, an' they runs, an' they yells, an' they
vanishes, but they never speaks; d'ye see? I told ye it was a
sciencrific dolusion; though, I'm bound for to confess, I never heer'd
o' von o' them critters speakin', no more than the ghosts.
Howsomedever, that's wot it is."
Corrie, who still hesitated, and held himself in readiness to bolt at a
moment's notice, suddenly cried--
"Why, I _do_ believe it's--No: it can't be--yes--I say, it's _Poopy_!"
"Wot's Poopy?" inquired the seaman, in some anxiety.
"What, don't you know Poopy, Alice's black maid, who keeps her company,
and looks after her; besides `doin' her, and `undoin' her, (as she calls
it), night and morning, and putting her to bed? Hooray! Poopy, my
lovely black darling; where _have_ you come from? You've frightened
Bumpus here nearly out of his wits. I do believe he'd have bin dead by
this time, but for me!"
So saying, Corrie, in the revulsion of his suddenly relieved feelings,
actually threw his arms round Poopy, and hugged her.
"O Corrie," exclaimed the girl, submitting to the embrace with as much
indifference as if she had been a lamp-post, "w'at troble you hab give
me! Why you run so? sure, you know me voice."
"Know it, my sweet lump of charcoal; I'd know it among a thousand, if
ye'd only use it in its own pretty natural tones; but, if you _will_ go
and screech like a bottle-imp, you know," said Corrie, remonstratively,
"how can you expect a stupid feller like me to recognise it?"
"There ain't no sich things as bottle-imps, no more nor ghosts,"
observed Bumpus; "but hold your noise, you chatter-box, and let's hear
wot the gal's got to say. Mayhap she knows summat about Alice?"
At this, Poopy manufactured an expression on her sable countenance,
which was meant to be intensely knowing and suggestive.
"Don't I? Yes, me do," said she.
"Out with it then at once, you pot of shoe-blacking," cried the
impatient Corrie.
The girl immediately related all that she knew regarding the fugitives,
stammering very much from sheer anxiety to get it all out as fast as she
could, and delaying her communication very much in consequence,--besides
rendering her meaning rather obscure--sometimes unintelligible. Indeed,
the worthy seaman could scarcely understand a word she said. He sat
staring at the whites of her eyes, which, with her teeth, were the only
visible parts of her countenance at that moment, and swayed his body to
and fro, as if endeavouring by a mechanical effort to arrive at a
philosophical conception of something exceedingly abstruse. But at the
end of each period he turned to Corrie for a translation.
At length, both man and boy became aware of the state of things, and
Corrie started up, crying--
"Let's go into the cave at once."
"Hold on, boy," cried Bumpus, "not quite so fast, (as the monkey said to
the barrel-organ w'en it took to playin' Scotch reels), we must have a
council of war, d'ye see? That black monster Keona may have gone right
through the cave and comed out at t' other end of it, in w'ich case it's
all up with our chance o' findin' 'em to-night. But if they've gone in
to spend the night there, why we've nothin' to do but watch at the mouth
of it till mornin' an' nab 'em as they comes out."
"Yes; but how are we to know whether they're in the cave or not?" said
Corrie, impatiently.
"Ah! that's the puzzler," replied Bumpus, in a meditative way; "but, of
course, we must look out for puzzlers ahead sometimes w'en we gets into
a land storm, d'ye see; just as we looks out ahead for breakers in a
storm at sea. Suppose now that I creeps into the cave and listens for
'em. They'd never hear me, 'cause I'd make no noise."
"You might as well try to sail into it in a big ship without making
noise, you Grampus."
To this the Grampus observed, that if the cave had only three fathoms of
water in the bottom of it he would have no objection whatever to try.
"But," added he, "suppose _you_ go in."
Corrie shook his head, and looked anxiously miserable.
"Well then," said Bumpus, "suppose we light two torches. I'll take one
in one hand, and this here cutlash in the other; and you'll take t'other
torch in one hand and your pistol in the other, and clap that bit of a
broken sword 'tween yer teeth, and we'll give a horrid screech, and rush
in pell-mell--all of a heap like. You could fire yer pistol straight
before you on chance, (it's wonderful wot a chance shot will do
sometimes), an' if it don't do nothin', fling it right into the
blackguard's face--a brass-mounted tool like that ketchin' him right on
the end of his beak would lay him flat over, like a ship in a white
squall."
"And suppose," said Corrie, in a tone of withering sarcasm, "suppose all
this happened to Alice, instead of the dirty nigger?"
"Ah! to be sure. That's a puzzler--puzzler number two."
Here Poopy, who had listened with great impatience to the foregoing
conversation, broke in energetically.
"An' s'pose," said she, "dat Keona and missy Alice comes out ob cave
w'en you two be talkerin' sich a lot of stuff?"
It may as well be remarked, in passing, that Poopy had acquired a
considerable amount of her knowledge of English from Master Corrie. Her
remark, although not politely made, was sufficiently striking to cause
Bumpus to start up, and exclaim--
"That's true, gal; come shew us the way to this here cave."
There was a fourth individual present at this council of war who
apparently felt a deep interest in its results, although he took no part
in its proceedings. This was no other than Keona himself, who lay
extended at full length among the rocks, not two yards from the spot
where Bumpus sat, listening intently and grinning from ear to ear with
fiendish malice.
The series of shrieks, howls, and yells, to which reference has been
made, had naturally attracted the attention of that wily savage when he
was in the cave. Following the sounds with quick noiseless step, he
soon found himself within a few paces of the deliberating trio. The
savage did not make much of the conversation, but he gathered sufficient
to assure himself that his hiding-place had been discovered, and that
plans were being laid for his capture.
It would have been an easy matter for him to have leaped suddenly on the
unsuspecting Bumpus, and driven a knife to his heart, after which, poor
Corrie and the girl could have been easily dealt with; but fortunately,
(at least for his enemies, if not for himself), indecision in the moment
of action was one of Keona's besetting sins. He suspected that other
enemies might be near at hand, and that the noise of the scuffle might
draw them to the spot. He observed, moreover, that the boy had a
pistol, which, besides being a weapon that acts quickly and surely, even
in weak hands, would give a loud report and a bright flash that might be
heard and seen at a great distance.
Taking these things into consideration, he thrust back the knife which
he had half unsheathed, and, retreating with the slow gliding motion of
a serpent, got beyond the chance of being detected, just as Bumpus rose
to follow Poopy to the cave.
The savage entered its yawning mouth in a few seconds and glided
noiselessly into its dark recesses like an evil spirit. Soon after, the
trio reached the same spot and stood for some time silently gazing upon
the thick darkness within.
A feeling of awe crept over them as they stood thus, and a shudder
passed through Corrie's frame as he thought of the innumerable ghosts
that might--probably did--inhabit that dismal place. But the thought of
Alice served partly to drive away his fears and to steel his heart. He
felt that the presence of such a sweet and innocent child _must_,
somehow or other, subdue and baffle the power of evil spirits, and it
was with some show of firmness that he said--
"Come, Bumpus, let's go in; we are better without a torch, it would only
show that we were coming; and as they don't expect us, the savage may
perhaps kindle a light which will guide us."
Bumpus, who was not sustained by any thoughts of the supposed power or
influence of the little girl, and whose superstitious fears were again
doing furious battle with his natural courage, heaved a deep sigh,
ground his teeth together, and clenched his fists.
Even in that dreadful hour the seaman's faith in his physical
invincibility, and in the terrible power of his fists, did not
altogether fail. Although he wore a cutlass, and had used it that day
with tremendous effect, he did not now draw it. He preferred to engage
supernatural enemies with the weapons that nature had given him, and
entered the cave on tiptoe with slow cautious steps; his fists tightly
clenched and ready for instant action, yet thrust into the pockets of
his coatee in a deceptively peaceful way, as if he meant to take the
ghosts by surprise.
Corrie followed him, also on tiptoe, with the broken sabre in his right
hand, and the cocked pistol in his left, his forefinger being on the
trigger, and the muzzle pointing straight at the small of the seaman's
back--if one may be permitted to talk of such an enormous back having
any "small" about it!
Poopy entered last, also on tiptoe, trembling violently, holding on with
both hands to the waistband of Corrie's trousers, and only restrained
from instant flight by her anxieties and her strong love for little
Alice.
Thus, step by step, with bated breath and loudly beating hearts, pausing
often to listen, and gasping in a subdued way at times, the three
friends advanced from the gloom without into the thick darkness within,
until their gliding forms were swallowed up.
Now it so happened that the shouts and yells, to which we have more than
once made reference in this chapter, attracted a band of savages who had
been put to flight by Henry Stuart's party. These rascals, not knowing
what was the cause of so much noise up on the heights, and, being much
too well acquainted with the human voice in all its modifications to
fancy that ghosts had anything to do with it, cautiously ascended
towards the cavern, just a few minutes after the disappearance of John
Bumpus and his companions.
Here they sat down to hold a palaver. While this was going on, Keona
carried Alice in his unwounded arm to the other end of the cave, and,
making his exit through a small opening at its inner extremity, bore his
trembling captive to a rocky eminence, shaped somewhat like a
sugar-loaf, on the summit of which he placed her. So steep were the
sides of this cone of lava, that it seemed to Alice that she was
surrounded by precipices over which she must certainly tumble if she
dared to move.