Commodore Junk Part 77

Humphrey gazed at Mazzard aghast. The threat implied in the order seemed too horrible to be believed, and for the moment he looked round in doubt.

But Mazzard was in power; and in a few minutes the ropes were forthcoming.

Humphrey glanced from the men who approached and then at Mary Dell, with the intention of proclaiming her s.e.x; but a horrible feeling of dread thrilled through him at the thought of making such a revelation to the monsters who had gained the upper-hand, and, gathering himself up, he waited his time, and then wrested himself free, sending the men who held him right and left, and leaped to where--unable to stand upright--his fellow prisoner was held.

Before they could recover from their surprise he had torn a sword from one of them, and, whirling it round his head, he drove them back, and clasping Mary Dell's waist, stood with flas.h.i.+ng eyes, ready for the first who would attack.

"Is there no man here who will help?" he shouted.

"Bedad there is!" cried Dinny, leaping upon the nearest, and in a moment tearing his weapon from his hand. "If I die for it, captain, it shall be like a man."

Black Mazzard stood for a moment aghast at the daring displayed. Then a grim look of savagery crossed his evil countenance, and he drew his sword.

"Now, my lads," he said, fiercely, "it's three ropes we want, I see.

Come on."

He made a rush forward, followed by his men; but at this moment a solitary shot flashed from the folds of the curtain, and as the report reverberated through the great stone chamber, Black Mazzard span round as if upon a pivot, and fell with a heavy thud upon the floor.

His men paused in their onslaught, appalled by the suddenness of their leader's fall; but as they saw Bart come forward, piece in hand, their hesitation turned to rage, and they advanced once more to the attack.

"Good-bye!" whispered Humphrey, bending for a moment over Mary, who clung to him, her eyes fixed on his with a longing, despairing gaze, and then, as he thrust her back, the attack began.

The odds were about eight to one, and the issue could not for a moment be in doubt; but hardly had sword met sword, and blow been exchanged, when a ringing cheer arose, and with a rush a couple of dozen well-armed sailors dashed in by corridor and window, and the tables were completely turned.

There was a rush made for the door, but those who tried in that direction were driven back; while half a dozen who backed into a corner of the great chamber, as if desperately determined to sell their lives dearly, were boldly attacked and beaten down, the whole party being reduced from the savage band of followers of the dead ruffian at their feet to a herd of helpless prisoners, abject to a degree.

Humphrey saw nothing of this, only that they were saved; for, dropping his sword, he sank on his knees by the side of her who lay back with her eyes fixed upon him, full of a longing, imploring look, whose import he read too well.

He bent down closely to her to take her hand in his, and started to find that it was cold; but there was vitality in it enough for the fingers to close upon his hand tightly, while the lips he kissed moved slightly, and he heard as faintly as if just breathed--

"It is better so."

"No, no!" he panted. "We are saved! Mary--dearest--"

He said no more, for the longing look in those eyes seemed intensified, and the pupils dilated slowly to remain fixed and stern.

It was the buccaneer's last look on earth.

CHAPTER THIRTY EIGHT.

LAST WORDS.

The officer who led the strong boat's crew to the rescue, guided by some of Captain Armstrong's men who had escaped weeks before and after terrible privations at last found help, drew back and signed to his followers.

It was enough. Hats were doffed, and a strange silence reigned in the gloomy chamber as Humphrey knelt there holding the dead hand in his till he was touched upon the shoulder, and looking up slowly, half-stunned by the event, it was to meet the pale, drawn face of Bart.

"Do they know, captain?" he whispered, meaningly.

For a few moments Humphrey did not realise the import of his question, till he turned and gazed down once more upon the stern, handsome face fixing rigidly in death.

"No," he said quickly, as he drew a handkerchief from his breast and softly spread it over the face of the dead. "It is our secret--ours alone."

"Hah!" sighed Bart, and he drew back for a moment, and then gave Humphrey an imploring look before advancing once more, going down upon his knee, and taking and kissing the cold hand lying across the motionless breast.

"Captain Humphrey Armstrong, I think!" said the officer of the rescue party.

"Yes," said Humphrey, in a dreamy way.

"We were just in time, it seems."

"Yes," said Humphrey, with a dazed look.

"I'm glad you are safe, sir; and this is--"

He had not finished his sentence when one of Black Mazzard's men yelled out--

"The Commodore--our captain--sir!"

"Once," said Humphrey, roused by the ruffian's words, and gazing sharply round; "but one who spared my life, sir, and with this poor fellow here defended me from that dead scoundrel and his gang!"

As he spoke he spurned the body of Black Mazzard, who had hardly stirred since he received Bart's bullet.

"I am at your service, Captain Armstrong," said the officer, "and will take my instructions from you."

"For the wretches taken in arms, sir, I have nothing to say; but for this poor wounded fellow I ask proper help and protection. I will be answerable for him."

Bart looked at him quickly and reeled slightly as he limped to his side.

"Thank ye, captain," he said. "I ought to hate you, but she loved you, and that's enough for me. If I don't see you again, sir--G.o.d bless you and good-bye!"

"But we shall see each other again, Bart, and I hope--here, quick!" he cried, "help here; the poor fellow is fainting from loss of blood!"

Bart was borne off to be tended by the surgeon, and Humphrey Armstrong stood gazing down at the motionless form at his feet.

He did not speak for some minutes, and all around respected his sorrow by standing aloof; but he turned at last to the officer--

"I ask honourable burial, sir, for the dead--dead to save my life."

The officer bowed gravely, and then turned away to give a few short, sharp orders to his men, who signed to their prisoners.

These were rapidly marched down to the boats, two and two, till it came to the turn of Dinny, who stood with Mrs Greenheys clinging to him, trembling with dread.

"Now, my fine fellow," said the warrant officer who had the prisoners in charge; "this way."

"Sure, and ye'll let me have a wurrud wid the captain first?"

"No nonsense. Come along!"