Commodore Junk Part 51

"To my cost?"

"To your cost. Your s.h.i.+p was in my way. You troubled me; and your people had to be removed. Well, they were removed."

"The treacherous hounds!" cried Humphrey, grinding his teeth as he recalled the action of the two Indians, and their escape.

"Treacherous! No. You would have employed men to betray me; it was but fighting you with your own weapons, sir; and these you call treacherous hounds were true, brave fellows who risked their lives to save me and mine."

Humphrey was silent.

"Come, Captain Armstrong; you will suffer bitterly for this. There are chills and fevers in the depths of this forest which seize upon strangers like you, especially upon those weakened by their wounds, and I do not want to lose the officer and gentleman who is to be my friend and help here, where I am, as it were, alone."

"Your friend and help!" said Humphrey, haughtily. "I am your prisoner, sir; but you forget to whom you are speaking. How dare you ask me to link my fate with that of your cut-throat band--to share with you a life of plunder and disgrace, with the noose at the yard-arm of every s.h.i.+p in His Majesty's Navy waiting to end your miserable career? I tell you--I tell you--"

He made a clutch at the nearest branch to save himself, for his head swam, black spots veiled in mist and strangely blurred seemed to be descending from above to form a blinding veil before his eyes. He recovered himself for a moment, long enough to resent the hand stretched out to save him, and then all was blank, and with a hoa.r.s.e sigh he would have fallen heavily but for the strong arms that caught him, held him firmly for a few moments, and then a faint catching sigh was heard in the stillness of the forest, as Humphrey Armstrong was lowered slowly upon the moss and a soft brown hand laid upon his forehead, as the buccaneer bent down upon one knee by his side.

"Want me?" said a deep low voice; and the buccaneer started as if from a dream, with his face hardening, and the wrinkles which had been smoothed reappearing deeply in the broad forehead.

"You here, Bart?"

"Ay, I'm here."

"Watching me?"

"Ay, watching of you."

The buccaneer rose and gave the interloper an angry look.

"Well, why not!" said Bart. "How did I know what he'd do?"

"And you've seen and heard all?"

"Everything," said Bart, coolly.

"When I told you to be within hearing only if I whistled or called."

"What's the use of that when a blow or a stab would stop them both?"

"Bart, I--"

"Go on, I don't mind," said Bart, quietly, "I want to live, and if you was to come to harm that would be the end of me."

The buccaneer gave an impatient stamp, but Bart paid no heed.

"Give me a lift up and I'll carry him back," he said quietly.

All this was done, and Dinny summoned, so that when, an hour later, Humphrey unclosed his eyes, it was with his head throbbing with fever, a wild half-delirious dreaminess troubling his brain, and the great stone image glaring down at him through the dim green twilight of the prison room.

It was a bitter experience for the prisoner to find that he had overrated his powers. The effort, the excitement, and the malaria of the forest prostrated him for a fortnight, and at the end of that time he found that he was in no condition to make a further attempt at securing the means of escape.

He lay in his gloomy chamber thinking over the buccaneer's insolent proposal, and fully expected that he would resent the way in which it had been received; but to his surprise he received the greatest of attention, and wine, fruit, and various delicacies that had evidently come from the stores of some well-found s.h.i.+p were placed before him to tempt his appet.i.te.

Dinny was his regular attendant, and always cheery and ready to help him in every way; but no more was said for a time respecting an evasion, though Humphrey was waiting his time; for after lying for hours, day after day, debating his position, he came to the conclusion that if he did escape it must be through this light-spirited Irishman.

His captor did not come to him as far as he knew; but he had a suspicion that more than once the buccaneer had been watching from some point or another unknown to him. But one day a message was brought by Bart, who entered the gloomy chamber and in his short, half-surly way thus delivered himself--

"Orders from the skipper, sir."

"Orders from your captain!" said Humphrey, flus.h.i.+ng.

"To say that he is waiting for your answer, sir."

"My answer, man? I gave him my answer."

"And that he can wait any time; but a message from you that you want to see him will bring him here."

"There is no other answer," said Humphrey, coldly.

"Better not say that," said Bart, after standing gazing at the prisoner for some time.

"What do you mean?" cried Humphrey, haughtily.

"Don't know. What am I to say to the captain?"

"I have told you. There is no answer," said Humphrey, coldly, and he turned away, but lay listening intently, for it struck him that he had heard a rustle in the great stone corridor without, as if someone had been listening; but the thick carpet-like curtain fell, and he heard no more, only lay watching the faint rays of light which descended through the dense foliage of the trees, as some breeze waved them softly, far on high, and slightly relieved the prevailing gloom.

Bart's visit had started a current of thought which was once more running strongly when Dinny entered with a basket of the delicious little grapes which grew wild in the sunny open parts of the mountain slopes.

"There, sor," he said, "and all me own picking, except about half of them which Misthress Greenheys sint for ye. Will ye take a few bunches now?"

"Dinny," said Humphrey in a low earnest voice, "have you thought of what I said to you?"

"Faix, and which? what is it ye mane, sor?"

"You know what I mean, man: about helping me to escape from here?"

"About helping ye to eshcape, sor? Oh, it's that ye mane!"

"Yes, man; will you help me?"

"Will I help ye, sor? D'ye see these threes outside the windy yonder, which isn't a windy bekase it has no gla.s.s in it?"

"Yes, yes, I see," cried Humphrey with all a sick man's petulance.

"Well, they've got no fruit upon 'em, sor."

"No, of course not. They are not of a fruit-bearing kind. What of that!"

"Faix, an' if I helped ye to eshcape, captain, darlin', sure and one of 'em would be having fruit hanging to it before the day was out, and a moighty foine kind of pear it would be."