When the crew of the schooner woke up on the morning following the
night in which we have described in a previous chapter, they were by
no means the reckless, dare-devil looking men they were when they
entered the cave on the previous evening.
For besides the usual effects produced on such characters by a night's
debauch, their countenances wore the haggard suspicious look of men
who felt judgment was hanging over them; that they were in the hands
of some mysterious power beyond their control. Some power from which
they could not escape, and which sooner or later, would mete out to
them the punishment they felt that they deserved.
They had all had troubled dreams, and several of them declared that
they had heard that terrible groan during the night repeated if
possible, in a more horrible manner than before.
To others the ghosts of the men they had lately murdered, appeared
menacing them with fearful retribution.
As the day advanced, and they had to some extent recovered their
spirits by the aid of their favorite stimulants, they attempted to
laugh the matter off as a mere bugbear created by an imagination over
heated by too great an indulgence in strong drink.
Although this opinion was not shared by Captain Flint, who had
carefully abstained from over-indulgence, for reasons of his own, he
encouraged it in his men.
But even they, while considering it necessary to remain quiet for a
few days, to see whether or not, any harm should result to them, in
consequence of their late attack on the merchant ship, none of them
showed a disposition to pass another night in the cave.
Captain Flint made no objection to his men remaining outside on the
following night, as it would give him the opportunity to investigate
the matter, which he desired.
On the next night, when there was no one in the cavern but himself and
the two who usually occupied it, he called Lightfoot to him, and asked
her if she had ever heard any strange noises in the place before.
"Sometime heard de voices of the Indian braves dat gone to the spirit
land," said the woman.
"Did you ever hear anything like the groan we heard last night?"
"Neber," said Lightfoot.
"What do you think it was?" asked the captain.
"Tink him de voice ob the great bad spirit," was the reply.
Captain Flint, finding that he was not likely to learn anything in
this quarter that would unravel the mystery, now called the negro.
"Bill," he said, "did you ever hear that noise before?"
"Ony once, massa."
"When was that, Bill?"
"When you trow my--"
"Hold your tongue, you black scoundrel, or I'll break every bone in
your body!" roared his master, cutting off the boy's sentence in the
middle.
The boy was going to say:
"When you trow'd my fadder into the sea."
The captain now examined every portion of the cavern, to see if he
could discover anything that could account for the production of the
strange sound.
In every part he tried his voice, to see if he could produce those
remarkable echoes, which had so startled him, on the previous night,
but without success.
The walls, in various parts of the cavern, gave back echoes, but
nothing like those of the previous night.
There were two recesses in opposite sides of the cave. The larger one
of these was occupied by Lightfoot as a sleeping apartment. The other,
which was much smaller, Black Bill made use of for the same purpose.
From these two recesses, the captain had everything removed, in order
that he might subject them to a careful examination.
But with no better success than before.
He tried his voice here, as in other parts of the cavern, but the
walls gave back no unusual echoes.
He was completely baffled, and, placing his lamp on the table, he sat
down on one of the seats, to meditate on what course next to pursue.
Lightfoot and Bill soon after, at his request, retired.
He had been seated, he could not tell how long, with his head resting
on his hands, when he was aroused by a yell more fearful, if possible,
even than the groan that had so alarmed him on the previous night.
The yell was repeated in the same horrible and mysterious manner that
the groan had been.
Flint sprang to his feet while the echoes were still ringing in his
ears, and rushed to the sleeping apartment, first, to that of the
Indian woman, and then, to that of the negro.
They both seemed to be sound asleep, to all appearance, utterly
unconscious of the fearful racket that was going on around them.
Captain Flint, more perplexed and bewildered than ever, resumed his
seat by the table; but not to sleep again that night, though the
fearful yell was not repeated.
The captain prided himself on being perfectly free from all
superstition.
He held in contempt the stories of ghosts of murdered men coming back
to torment their murderers.
In fact, he was very much inclined to disbelieve in any hereafter at
all, taking it to be only an invention of cunning priests, for the
purpose of extorting money out of their silly dupes. But here was
something, which, if not explained away, would go far to stagger his
disbelief.
He was glad that the last exhibition had only been witnessed by
himself, and that the men for the present preferred passing their
nights outside; for, as he learned from Lightfoot, the noises were
only during the night time.
This would enable him to continue his investigation without any
interference on the part of the crew, whom he wished to keep in utter
ignorance of what he was doing, until he had perfectly unraveled the
mystery.
For this purpose, he gave Lightfoot and Black Bill strict charges not
to inform the men of what had taken place during the night.
He was determined to pass the principal portion of the day in sleep,
so as to be wide awake when the time should come for him to resume his
investigations.