Poison Island Part 31

I knew, while I uttered it, that my speech was abominably ill-conditioned; that Captain Branscome had, in fact, been holding out the olive-branch, and that in common decency I ought to have caught at it. In short, I felt my boyish temper going from bad to worse, and yet, somehow, that I could not apply the brake to it.

"Why, confound the boy!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Mr. Rogers. "What ever bee has stung him?" And gripping me by the shoulder as I heaved at the boat, he swung me round to face him. "Look here, young Harry Brooks!

Do you happen to be sickening for something, that you talk like a gutter-snipe to a gentleman old enough to be your grandfather?

Or, damme, have you and Goodfellow been coming to blows? By the nose of you and the state of your s.h.i.+rt a man would say you've come from a street fight; and by your talk, that your head was knocked silly."

"It's all very well, Mr. Rogers," said I, sulkily, "and I know I oughtn't to have spoken like that, but I hate to be tyrannized over.

That's why I didn't take your warning first along and pull back to the s.h.i.+p--though I thank you for it all the same."

"Eh?" said Mr. Rogers. "My warning? What in thunder is the boy talking about?"

"When you saw me sculling for sh.o.r.e, here, about an hour ago," I explained, "you pretended not to see me, and went after Captain Branscome; but I saw you, fast enough, standing on the bank yonder, under the trees."

"For a certainty the child is mad!" Mr. Rogers stared at me round-eyed. "_I_ saw you? _I_ pretended not to? Why, man alive, from the time we left the s.h.i.+p I never set eyes on you (how should I?), nor ever guessed you were ash.o.r.e till we came back and found your boat beside the dinghy. And as for standing under those trees, I was never on the bank there for one second--no, nor for the half of one. The Captain and I walked around the spit together--the tide has covered our footmarks or I could show 'em to you."

"At any rate there _was_ a man," I persisted. "And he couldn't have been the Captain either, for he was wearing dark clothes--"

"The devil! I say, Branscome, listen to this--"

"I am listening," answered the Captain, gravely, taking, as he stepped forward, a long look at the bank above us and at the dense forest to right and left. "Did you see the man's face, Harry?"

"No, sir, or I should not have mistaken him for Mr. Rogers. He was standing there, under the boughs, and seemed to be looking through them and watching me. I was sculling the boat along with a paddle slipped in the stern notch, and he let me come pretty close--I couldn't have been two hundred yards away--when he slipped to the back of the trees, and I lost him."

"You didn't see him again?"

"No, sir; I didn't land just at once. I had a mind at first to put about and row to the schooner, thinking that Mr. Rogers had meant it for a hint. When I brought the boat ash.o.r.e, five minutes later, he was gone."

"Which way did you take, then?"

"I went straight after you, sir, up the waterfalls; but couldn't find any trace of you except at one spot just beside a waterfall--the fourth, it was--where some one had slipped a foot--"

"Mr. Rogers," the Captain interrupted, "we had best get back to the _Espriella_ with all speed. I may tell you, Harry, that we never went up by the waterfalls at all. It was a climb, and my half-pay leg didn't like the look of it. But, jump into your boat, boy, and pull ahead of us. You and I must do a little serious talking later on."

We pulled back briskly for the _Espriella_ and reached her just as she began to swing with the turn of the tide. As we drew close--the c.o.c.kboat leading--I glanced over my shoulder and spied Plinny leaning against the bulwarks by the starboard quarter, in the att.i.tude of one gently enjoying the sunset scene; but at the sight of my torn s.h.i.+rt all her composure left her, and she came running to the accommodation ladder, where she met me with a string of agitated questions.

"Excuse me, ma'am," said Captain Branscome, as the dinghy fell alongside and he climbed on deck. "I have no wish to alarm you, and, indeed, there may be no cause at all for alarm. But Harry has brought us some serious news. He reports that there is a man--a stranger--on the Island."

"How could Harry have known?" was Plinny's unexpected response.

"He is confident that he saw a man, somewhat more than an hour since, standing at the head of the creek."

"Now, that is very curious," said Plinny; "for the gentleman told me he had borrowed Harry's boat without being observed."

"I--I beg your pardon, ma'am!" Captain Branscome stared about him.

"A gentleman, did you say?"

"Yes, and such distinguished manners! He left a message for you--and, dear me, you should have heard how he praised my coffee!"

CHAPTER XXVIII.

THE MASTER OF THE ISLAND.

But here, as Captain Branscome leaned back and caught feebly at the main rigging for support, there appeared above the after companion (like a cognisance above an escutcheon) a bent fore-arm, the hand grasping a beaver hat. It was presently followed by the head of Miss Belcher, who nodded cheerfully, blinking a little in the level light of the sunset.

"Hallo!" said she, addressing Plinny, while she adjusted the hat upon her brow. "Have you been telling the Captain about our visitor?"

"Miss Plinlimmon, ma'am, has given me a shock, and I won't deny it,"

answered the Captain, recovering himself.

Miss Belcher continued to nod like a china mandarin.

"I don't wonder," she agreed. "For my part, you might have knocked me down with a feather. The fellow came down the creek, cool as you please, and pulling a nice easy stroke, in Harry's c.o.c.kboat.

Where is Harry, by the way?"--her eyes lit and fastened upon me-- "Good Lord! what have you been doing to the child?"

"Nothing, ma'am. He has been exploring, and lost his way; that's all."

"H'm! he seems to have lost it pretty badly. Well, he deserved it.

But, as I was saying, along comes my gentleman, pulling with just the easy jerk which is the way to make a boat of that sort travel.

Goodfellow was keeping watch. They say that a sailor will recognize a boat half a mile further off than he'll recognize the man in it, but Goodfellow isn't a sailor, so that explanation won't fit.

We'll say that he was prepared for the boat returning, but not to find an entire stranger pulling her. At all events, he let her come within a couple of gunshots before calling down to the cabin and giving the alarm. I had my legs up on a locker, and was taking a siesta over a book--'Parkinson _On The Dog_'--and, by the way, we were a set of fools not to bring a dog; but I ran up the companion in a jiffy, and had the sense to catch up your spygla.s.s as I went.

Goodfellow by this time had begun to dance about the deck in a flutter. He had the tinder-box in his hand, and wanted to know if he should touch off a rocket. I ordered him to drop it, and fetch me a musket, which he did. By this time I could see that the man in the boat was unarmed, so I put up the musket at the 'present,' got the sight on him, and called out to know his business.

"The man jerked the c.o.c.kboat round with her stern to the schooner-- these boats come right-about with a single twist--and says he, very politely lifting his hat, 'You'll pardon me, ma'am, but (as you see) I have borrowed your young friend's boat. My own was not handy, and this seemed the quickest way to pay my respects.' 'Indeed?' said I, 'and who may you be?' 'My name, ma'am,' said he, 'is Beauregard--Dr.

Beauregard.' 'I never heard of you,' said I. 'That, ma'am, is entirely my misfortune,' said he, lifting his hat again; 'but allow me to say that I am the proprietor of this island, and very much at your service.'

"Well, this was a facer. It never occurred to any of us--eh?--that this island might have an owner. To tell the truth, I'm a stickler for the rights of property, at home; but somehow the notion of an island like this belonging to any one had never entered my head.

Yet the thing is reasonable enough when you come to think it over; and, of course, I saw that it put an entirely different complexion upon our business here."

"My dear Lydia," put in Mr. Rogers, impatiently, "the man's claim must be absurd. Why, the island is right in the tropics!"

"You wouldn't have thought it a bit absurd if you had heard him,"

retorted Miss Belcher. "He appeared to be quite sure of his ground.

Very pleasant about it, too, he was; said that few visitors ever honoured his out-of-the way home, but that as soon as any arrived he always made it a matter of--of punctilio (yes, that was the word) to put off and bid them welcome. He spoke with the slightest possible foreign accent, but used admirable English: and, I don't know why,"

wound up Miss Belcher, ingenuously, "but he seemed to divine from the first that I was an Englishwoman."

"And it wasn't as if we had come here flaunting British colours,"

added Plinny.

"But what sort of man was he?" asked the Captain.

"Height, six foot two or three in his stockings; age, about sixty; face, clean shaven and fleshy; the features extraordinarily powerful; hair, jet black, and dyed (if at all) by a process that would make his fortune if he sold the secret; clothes, black alpaca and well cut, with silk stockings that would be cheap at two guineas, and shoes with gold buckles on 'em. I couldn't take my eyes off--no display about 'em--and yet I doubt if King Louis of France over wore the like before they cut his head off. Complexion, pale for this climate, with a sort of silvery s.h.i.+ne about it. Manner charming, voice charming, bearing fit for a grand seigneur; and that's what he is, or something like it, unless, as I rather incline to suspect, he's the biggest scoundrel unhung."

"Oh, Miss Belcher!" protested Plinny. "When you agreed with me that he might have sat for a portrait of a gentleman of the old school!"

"Tut, my dear! When I saw that you had lost your heart to him as soon as he set foot on deck! Did I say 'of the old school'?

Yes, indeed, and of the very oldest; and, in fact, quite possibly the Old Gentleman himself."