It was not without some difficulty that the boat reached the shore after
the squall burst upon them. On landing, the party observed, dark though
it was, that their leader's countenance wore an expression of the
deepest anxiety; yet there were lines upon it that indicated the raging
of conflicting passions which he found it difficult to restrain.
"I fear me," said Ole Thorwald in a troubled voice, "that our young
friend Henry Stuart is in danger."
"Lost!" said Gascoyne, in a voice so low and grating that it startled
his hearers.
"Say not so," said Mr Mason, earnestly. "He is a brave and a clever
youth, and knows how to manage the cutter until we can row back and
fetch him ashore."
"Row back!" exclaimed Gascoyne, almost fiercely.
"Think you that I would stand here idle if our boat could live in such a
sea as now rolls on the rocks? The _Wasp_ must have been washed over
the reef by this time. She may pass the next without being dashed to
pieces, but she is too rickety to stand the third. No, there is no
hope!"
While he spoke the missionary's eyes were closed, and his lips moved as
if in silent prayer. Seizing Gascoyne nervously by the arm, he
said--"You cannot tell that there is no hope. That is known only to One
who has encouraged us to `hope against hope.' Henry is a stout youth
and a good swimmer. He may succeed in clinging to some portion of the
wreck."
"True, true," cried Gascoyne, eagerly grasping at this hope, slight
though it was. "Come, we waste time. There is but one chance. The
schooner must be secured without delay. Lads, you will follow Mr
Thorwald. Do whatever he bids you. And now," he added, leading the
merchant aside, "the time for action has come. I will conduct you to a
certain point on the island where you will remain concealed among the
bushes until I return to you."
"And suppose you never return to us, Mister Gascoyne?" said Ole, who
regarded every act of the pirate captain with suspicion.
"Then you will remain there till you are tired," answered Gascoyne, with
some asperity, "and after that, do what you please."
"Well, well, I am in your power," retorted the obdurate Norseman; "make
what arrangements you please, I will carry them out until--"
Here Ole thought fit to break off, and Gascoyne, without taking notice
of the remark, went on in a few hurried sentences to explain as much of
his plan as he thought necessary for the guidance of his suspicious
ally.
This done, he led the whole party to the highest part of the island, and
made them lie in ambush there while he went forward alone to
reconnoitre. The night was admirably suited to their purpose. It was
so dark that it was extremely difficult to perceive objects more than a
few yards off, and the wind howled so furiously among the palms that
there was no danger of being overheard in the event of their speaking
too loud or stumbling over fallen trees.
Gascoyne, who knew every rock and tree on the Isle of Palms, went
rapidly down the gentle slope that intervened between him and the
harbour in which the _Foam_ lay at anchor. Dark though it was, he could
see the taper masts and yards of his vessel traced dimly against the
sky.
The pirate's movements now became more cautious. He stepped slowly, and
paused frequently to listen. At last he went down on his hands and
knees and crept forward for a considerable distance in that position,
until he reached a ledge of rocks that overhung the shore of the bay.
Here he observed an object like a round lump of rock, lying a few yards
before him, on a spot where he was well aware no such rock had
previously existed. It moved after a moment or two. Gascoyne knew that
there were no wild animals of any kind on the island, and, therefore, at
once jumped to the conclusion that this must needs be a human being of
some sort. Drawing his knife he put it between his teeth, and creeping
noiselessly towards the object in question laid his strong hand on the
neck of the horrified Will Corrie.
That adventurous and desperate little hero having lain sleepless and
miserable at the feet of Alice until the squall blew the tent over their
heads, got up and assisted Montague to erect it anew in a more sheltered
position, after which, saying that he meant to take a midnight ramble on
the shore to cool his fevered brow, he made straight for the sea,
stepped knee-deep into the raging surf, and bared his breast to the
furious blast.
This cooled him so effectually that he took to running along shore in
order to warm himself. Then it occurred to him that the night was
particularly favourable for a sly peep at the pirates. Without a
moment's hesitation he walked and stumbled towards the high part of the
island, at which he arrived just half-an-hour before Gascoyne reached
it. He had seen nothing, however, and was on the point of advancing
still further in his explorations, when he was discovered as we have
seen.
Gascoyne instantly turned the boy over on his back, and nipped a
tremendous yell in the bud by grasping his wind-pipe.
"Why, Corrie!" exclaimed Gascoyne in surprise, at the same time
loosening his grip, though still holding the boy down.
"Ah! you villain, you rascally pirate. _I_ know you, I--"
The pipe was gently squeezed at this point, and the sentence abruptly
cut short.
"Come, boy, you must not speak so loud. Enemies are near. If you don't
behave I'll have to throttle you. I have come from Sandy Cove with a
party to save you and your friends."
Corrie did not believe a word of this. He knew, or at least he
supposed, that Gascoyne had left the schooner, not having seen him since
they sailed from Sandy Cove; but he knew nothing of the manner in which
he had been put ashore.
"It won't do, Gascoyne," gasped poor Corrie, on being permitted again to
use his wind-pipe. "You may kill me, but you'll never cow me. I don't
believe you, you cowardly monster."
"I'll have to convince you then," said Gascoyne, suddenly catching the
boy in his arms, and bearing him swiftly away from the spot.
Corrie struggled like a hero, as he was. He tried to shout, but
Gascoyne's right hand again squeezed the wind-pipe; he attempted to
bite, but the same hand easily kept the refractory head in order; he
endeavoured to kick and hit, but Gascoyne's left hand encircled him in
such a comprehensive embrace and pressed him so powerfully to his
piratical bosom that he could only wriggle. This he did without
ceasing, until Gascoyne suddenly planted him on his feet, panting and
dishevelled, before the astonished faces of Frederick Mason and Ole
Thorwald.
It is not necessary to describe in detail the surprise of all then and
there assembled, the hurried conversation, and the cry of joy with which
the missionary received the information that Alice was safe and within
five minutes' walk of the spot on which he stood. Suffice it to say,
that Corrie was now convinced of the good faith of Gascoyne, whom he at
once led, along with Mr Mason, to the tent where Alice and her friends
slept--leaving Thorwald and his men where they were, to await further
orders.
The cry of wild delight with which Alice sprang into her father's arms
might have been destructive of all Gascoyne's plans had not the wind
carried it away from the side of the island where the pirate schooner
lay. There was now no time to be lost. After the first embrace, and a
few hurried words of blessing and thanksgiving, the missionary was
summoned to a consultation.
"I will join you in this enterprise, Mr Gascoyne," said Montague. "I
believe what you say to be true, besides, the urgency of our present
danger leaves me no room for choice. I am in your power. I believe
that in your present penitent condition you are willing to enable us to
escape from your former associates; but I tell you frankly that, if ever
I have an opportunity to do so, I will consider it my duty to deliver
you over to justice."
"Time is too precious to trifle thus," said Gascoyne, hurriedly. "I
have already said that I will deliver myself up--not however to _you_,
but to Mr Mason--after I have rescued the party, so that I am not
likely to claim any consideration from you on account of the obligation
which you seem to think my present act will lay you under. But you must
not accompany me just now."
"Why not?"
"Because your presence may be required here. You and Mr Mason will
remain where you are to guard the girls, until I return. All that I
have to ask is, that you be in readiness to follow me at a moment's
notice when the time comes."
"Of course what you arrange _must_ be agreed to," said Montague.
"Come, Corrie, I will require your assistance. Follow me," said the
pirate captain, as he turned and strode rapidly away.
Corrie was now thoroughly convinced of the good intentions of Gascoyne,
so he followed him without hesitation. Indeed, now that he had an
opportunity of seeing a little more of his gigantic companion, he began
to feel a strange kind of pity and liking for him, but he shuddered and
felt repelled when he thought of the human blood in which his hands must
have been imbrued, for as yet he had not heard of the defence of himself
which Gascoyne had made in the widow's cottage. But he had not much
time to think, for in a few minutes they came upon Ole Thorwald and his
party.
"Follow me quietly," said Gascoyne. "Keep in single file and close
together, for if we are separated here we shall not easily get together
again."
Leading them over the same ground that he had formerly traversed,
Gascoyne conducted his party to the shores of the bay where the _Foam_
lay at anchor. Here he made them keep close in the bushes, with
directions to be ready to act the instant he should call on them to do
so.
"But it would comfort me mightily, Mister Gascoyne," said Thorwald in a
somewhat troubled voice, "if you would give me some instructions or
advice as to what I am to do in the event of your plans miscarrying. I
care nought for a fair fight in open field, but I do confess to a
dislike of being brought to the condition of _not knowing what to do_."
"It won't matter much what you do, Mr Thorwald," said Gascoyne,
gravely. "If my plans miscarry, you will be killed every soul of you.
You'll not have the ghost of a chance of escaping."
Ole opened his eyes uncommonly wide at this. "Well," said he at length,
with a sigh of resignation, "it's some comfort to know that one can only
be killed once."
Gascoyne now proceeded leisurely to strip off his shirt, thereby
displaying a chest, back, and arms in which the muscles were developed
to an extent that might have made Hercules himself envious. Kicking off
his boots, he reduced his clothing to a pair of loose knee-breeches.
"'Tis a strange time to indulge in a cold bath!" murmured Thorwald,
whose state of surprise was beginning to render him desperately
ironical.
Gascoyne took no notice of this remark, but calling Corrie to his side,
said--
"Can you swim, boy?"
"Yes, like a duck."
"Can you distinguish the stern of the schooner?"
"I can."
"Listen, then. When you see a white sheet waved over the taffrail,
throw off your jacket and shirt and swim out to the schooner. D'ye
understand?"
"Perfectly," replied the boy, whose decision of manner and action grew
with the occasion.
"And now, Mr Thorwald," said Gascoyne, "I shall swim off to the
schooner. If, as I expect, the men are on shore in a place that I wot
of and with which you have nothing to do, well and good, I will send a
boat for you with muffled oars--but, mark you, let there be no noise in
embarking or in getting aboard the schooner. If, on the other hand, the
men are aboard, I will bring a boat to you myself, in which case silence
will not be so necessary, and your fighting powers shall be put to the
proof."
Without waiting for a reply, the pirate captain walked down the sloping
beach and waded slowly into the dark sea. His motions were so noiseless
and stealthy that those who watched him with eager eyes could only
discern a figure moving gradually away from them and melting into the
thick gloom.
Fierce though the storm was outside, the sheltered waters of the bay
were almost calm, so that Gascoyne had no difficulty in swimming off to
the _Foam_ without making any noise. As he drew near, a footstep on the
deck apprised him that there was at least a watch left. A few seconds
later a man leaned over the low bulwarks of the vessel on the side on
which the swimmer approached.
"Hist! what sort o' brute's that?" he exclaimed, seizing a handspike
that chanced to be near him and hurling it at the head of the brute.
The handspike fell within a yard of Gascoyne, who, keeping up his
supposed character, made a wild splash with his arms and dived like a
genuine monster of the deep. Swimming under water as vigorously as he
could, he endeavoured to gain the other side of the vessel before he
came up; but, finding that this was impossible, he turned on his back
and allowed himself to rise gently until nothing but his face appeared
above the surface. By this means he was enabled to draw a full breath,
and then, causing himself to sink, he swam under water to the other side
of the schooner and rose under her quarter.
Here he paused a minute to breathe, then glided with noiseless strokes
to the main chains, which he seized hold of, and, under their shelter,
listened intently for at least five minutes.
Not a sound was to be heard on board save the footstep of the solitary
watchman who slowly paced the deck, and now and then beguiled the tedium
of his vigil by humming a snatch of a sea song.
Gascoyne now felt assured that the crew were ashore enjoying themselves,
(as they were wont to do,) in one of the artificial caverns where their
goods were concealed. He knew, from his own former experience, that
they felt quite secure when once at anchor in the harbour of the Isle of
Palms; it was therefore probable that all of them had gone ashore except
this man who had been left to take care of the vessel.
Gascoyne now drew himself slowly up into the chains, and remained there
for a few seconds in a stooping position, keeping his head below the
level of the bulwarks while he squeezed the water out of his lower
garments. This done, he waited until the man on deck came close to
where he stood, when he sprang on him with the agility of a tiger, threw
him down, and placed his hand on his mouth.
"It will be your wisest course to be still, my man," said Gascoyne,
sternly. "You know who I am, and you know what I can do when occasion
requires. If you shout when I remove my hand from your mouth you die."
The man seemed to be quite aware of the hopelessness of his case, for he
quietly submitted to have his mouth bound with a handkerchief and his
hands and feet tied with cords. A few seconds sufficed to accomplish
this, after which Gascoyne took him up in his arms as if he had been a
child, carried him below, and laid him on one of the cabin lockers.
Then, dragging a sheet off one of the beds, he sprang up on deck and
waved it over the stern.
"That's the signal for me," said Corrie, who had watched for it
eagerly--"now, uncle Ole, mind you obey orders--you're rather inclined
to be mutinous, and that won't pay to-night. If you don't look out,
Gascoyne will pitch into you, old boy."
Master Corrie indulged in these impertinent remarks while he was
stripping off his jacket and shirt. The exasperated Thorwald attempted
to seize him by the neck and shake him, but Corrie flung his jacket in
his face, and sprang down the beach like a squirrel. He had wisdom
enough, however, to say and do all this in the quietest possible manner,
and when he entered the sea he did so with as much caution as Gascoyne
himself had done, insomuch that he seemed to melt away like a
mischievous sprite.
In a few minutes he was alongside of the _Foam_; caught a rope that was
thrown to him, and quickly stood on the deck.
"Well done, Corrie. Clamber over the stern, and slide down by that rope
into the little boat that floats there. Take one of the oars, which you
will find muffled, and scull to the shore and bring off Thorwald and his
men. And, hark 'ee, boy, bring off my shirt and boots. Now, look
alive; your friend Henry Stuart's life may depend on it."
"Henry's life!" exclaimed Corrie in amazement.
"Come, no questions. His life may depend on your promptitude."
Corrie wanted no stronger motive for speed. In a state of surprise
mingled with anxious forebodings, he leaped over the stern and was gone
in a moment.
The distance between the shore and the schooner being very short, the
boat was quickly alongside, and the party, under stout Ole Thorwald,
took possession of their prize. Meanwhile Gascoyne had set the jib and
fore-topsail, which latter had been left hanging loose from the yard, so
that by hauling out the sheets slowly and with great care, the thing was
done without noise. The cable was then cut, the boat manned, and the
_Foam_ glided out of the bay like a phantom ship.
The moment she got beyond the shelter of the palms her sails filled, and
in a few minutes she was rushing through the water at the rate of ten or
eleven knots an hour.
Gascoyne stood at the helm and guided her through the intricacies of the
dangerous coast with consummate skill, until he reached the bay where
the wrecked ship lay. Here he lay to, and sent the boat ashore for the
party that had been left at the tent. They were waiting anxiously for
his return; great therefore was their astonishment when he sent a
message inviting them to go on board the _Foam_.
The instant they embarked Gascoyne put about, and, ordering the mainsail
to be hoisted and one of the reefs to be shaken out of the topsail, ran
round to windward of the island, with the foam flying in great masses on
either side of the schooner, which lay over so much before the gale that
it was scarcely possible to stand on the deck.
The manner in which the pirate captain now acted was calculated to fill
the hearts of those whose lives seemed to hang in his hands with alarm
if not dismay. His spirit seemed to be stirred within him. There was
indeed no anger either in his looks or tones, but there was a stern
fixedness of purpose in his manner and aspect which aroused, yet
repelled, the curiosity of those around him. Even Ole Thorwald and
Montague agreed that it was best to let him alone, for although they
might overcome his great physical force by the united strength of
numbers, the result would certainly be disastrous, as he was the only
one who knew the locality.
On reaching the windward side of the island he threw the schooner up
into the wind, and ordered the large boat to be hoisted out and put in
the water, Gascoyne issued his commands in a quick loud voice, and Ole
shook his head as if he felt that this overbearing manner proved what he
had expected, namely, that when the pirate got aboard his own vessel he
would come out in his true colours.
Whatever men felt or thought, there was no hesitation in rendering
prompt obedience to that voice. The large boat was hoisted off the
brass pivot gun amidships and lowered into the water. Then Gascoyne
gave the helm to one of the men, with directions to hold it exactly as
it then lay, and, hurrying down below, speedily returned, to the
astonishment of every one, with a man in his arms.
"Now, Connway," said Gascoyne, as he cut the cords that bound the man
and removed the handkerchief from his mouth, "I'm a man of few words,
and to-night have less time than usual to speak. I set you free. Get
into that boat--one oar will suffice to guide it--the wind will drive it
to the island. I send it as a parting gift to Manton and my former
associates. It is large enough to hold them all. Tell them that I
repent of my sins, and the sooner they do the same the better. I cannot
now undo the evil I have done them. I can only furnish the means of
escape, so that they may have time and opportunity to mend their ways,
and, hark 'ee, the sooner they leave this plane the better. It will no
longer be a safe retreat. Farewell!"
While he was speaking he led the man by the arm to the side of the
schooner, and constrained him to get into the boat. As he uttered the
last word he cut the rope that held it, and let it drop astern.
Gascoyne immediately resumed his place at the helm, and once more the
schooner was running through the water, almost gunwale under, towards
the place where the _Wasp_ had been wrecked.
Without uttering a word of explanation, and apparently forgetful of
every one near him, the pirate continued during the remainder of that
night to steer the _Foam_ out and in among the roaring breakers, as if
he were trying how near he could venture to the jaws of destruction
without actually plunging into them. As the night wore on the sky
cleared up, and the scene of foaming desolation that was presented by
the breakers in the midst of which they flew, was almost enough to appal
the stoutest heart.
The crew looked on in moody silence. They knew that their lives were
imperilled, but they felt that they had no resource. No one dared to
address the silent, stern man who stood like an iron statue at the helm
the whole of that night. Towards morning, he steered out from among the
dangerous coral reefs and ran south, straight before the wind.
Then Corrie summoned up courage, and, going aft to Gascoyne, looked up
in his face and said--
"You're searching for Henry, I think?"
"Yes, boy. I am," answered the pirate, and a gleam of kindliness
crossed his face for a moment, but it was quickly chased away by a look
of deep anxiety, and Corrie retired.
Now that the danger of the night was over, all the people on board
became anxious to save Henry or ascertain his fate; but although they
searched the ocean far and wide, they saw not a vestige of him or of the
_Wasp_. During this period Gascoyne acted like a bewildered man. He
never quitted the helm, night nor day. He only ate a biscuit now and
then when it was brought to him, and he did not answer when he was
spoken to.
Every one felt sympathy with the man who seemed to mourn so deeply for
the lost youth.