Kitabı oku: «Dutch the Diver: or, A Man's Mistake», sayfa 13
“I don’t suppose we are right from some points of view,” said Mr Parkley, gaily. “But let’s secure all the treasure, and we’ll talk about that afterwards. We shall give you a rich cargo, Studwick.”
“I hope so,” was the reply, “but you’ll have to go on for many days at this rate before I am overloaded.”
“Wait a bit, eh, Dutch Pugh. I think we shall astonish him yet. Come, a glass of champagne, man. You are low with your accident. What are you dreaming about?”
“I was wondering,” said Dutch, quietly, “whether we ought not to take more precautions.”
“What about? Indians ashore?”
“No; sailors afloat.”
“Quite right,” said the captain.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean,” said Dutch, “that we must not excite the cupidity of these men by letting them see too much of the treasure, or mischief may follow. There are several fellows here whose looks I don’t like.”
“Don’t invent bugbears, Pugh,” said Mr Parkley, gaily. “We can take care of what we find, for we have plenty of arms, and I doubt very much whether the men would risk their necks by entering into anything in the shape of a mutiny. What do you say to that, eh, Studwick? Am I not right?”
“I don’t know what to say,” replied the captain. “I must confess now that I had my misgivings about some of the men at the commencement of the voyage, and, though I have seen nothing to make me suspicious, the fact of having a large freight of silver on board with such a crew as we have does not tend to make me feel quite at ease.”
“But you have not your large freight of silver on board yet,” said the doctor smiling.
“No, by jove,” exclaimed Mr Studwick; “but if they go on piling up the ingots at the rate they have been this afternoon, we shall soon have a temptation strong enough to incite a set of scoundrels to cut all our throats.”
Dutch started and shuddered.
“Come, come, gentlemen,” cried Mr Parkley, “suppose we stop all this dismal quaking. Here we have so far succeeded in our quest, and the trip bids fair to be all that can be desired, whereupon you set to inventing troubles. Come, I’ll give you a toast. Here, ‘Home, sweet home!’”
“Home, sweet home!” said the others in chorus, as they drained their glasses, saving Dutch, who sat moodily thinking. For these words had recalled happy days that were past. There was no happy home for him, and it seemed as if a wandering life would be the happiest that he could now look forward to in the future.
At last, being weary with their exertions, the watch was set and they went below, the doctor sternly forbidding any one from lying down to sleep on the deck, – a most tempting place in the heat; and no sooner had the captain taken a look round than a couple of dark figures crept stealthily from under the tarpaulin that covered a boat, and were joined by another, who cautiously came forward to join them from the forecastle hatch, the three getting together under the dark shelter of the bulwarks, where earnest conversation was carried on in a whisper.
About half-an-hour later another dark figure crept out upon the deck, and stood listening for a few moments before going down on hands and knees, and then apparently flat upon the deck, to worm its way towards where a faint light shone up from the cabin, and gaze cautiously down through the skylight as far as it could for the wire protection spread over the glass.
Apparently satisfied, the figure crept forward again, and made for the hatch leading down to the berths occupied by Mr Jones, the doctor, the naturalist, Rasp, and where Sam Oakum also turned in.
Now, it so happened that the latter gentleman was enjoying a strange nightmare, in which it seemed to him that Rasp had, out of spite, forced him into one of the diving suits, made him go to the bottom of the sea, and had then suddenly cut off the supply of air. He fought, he struggled, he grunted, he made every effort he could to breathe, but all in vain, and in the horror of the suffocating sensation he awoke to find that a hand was pressed heavily upon his mouth, while another seemed busy at his breast.
Story 1-Chapter XXV.
’Pollo’s Report
Oakum was not a man to shout for help, but to act, and act he did on the instant by turning sharply round, and seizing his assailant by the throat. He lowered his hands, though, in a moment, for a thick voice whispered —
“Don’t make ’tupid bobbery, Mass’ Sam Oakum, sah, or you wake de oder gentlemen.”
“What’s up, ’Pollo?” said Oakum, in the same low tone, for he was awake now to the fact that something was wrong. “Injins?”
“No, sah, I tink not; but you come out here, sah, where de oder gentleman not hear, and I tell you.”
Oakum squabbled with ’Pollo every day, but they were very old shipmates, and the rough sailor had the most abundant confidence in the black, so he drew on his trousers, and cautiously followed him to the foot of the steps, where ’Pollo sat down, and Oakum knelt by his side.
“Now, then, what’s up?” growled Oakum.
“I tell you, sah, reckly, but first must ’fess somefin to you.”
“Go ahead then, my hearty,” was the reply.
“Well, sah, while I busy all de mornin’ in my galley, I see de beauful lump of silber brought up ober and ober again, and I see Mass’ Jone and noder sailor busy knock off de shell and tuff, and frow him all of a heap.”
“Yes, and there it lies now on deck,” said Sam, “instead of being shyed overboard. What o’ that?”
“Well, sah, no able to sleep ’cause of dat, and so I get out of my hammock and creep all soft like on deck.”
“What, did you get some of the bits o’ shell in your blanket.”
“No, sah, no,” chuckled ’Pollo. “You know me, Mass’ Sam Oakum, sah, we berry ole friend, and go froo deal ob trouble togedder.”
“Well, yes, ’Pollo, old man, we have had a hardship or two, but what o’ that?”
“Why, sah, I ’fess eberything to you, sah, and tell you all.”
“Heave ahead, then.”
“Well, sah, I no tink it berry wrong, sah, cause there such a debble ob a lot ob silber, but while I watch Mass’ Jone and de sailor chip, chip, chip at de shell to knock ’em off I see dem knock little bit ob silber too some time, and one time dey fro lump of shell down. I quite sure got big piece of silber inside.”
“And you’ve been up on deck to get hold of it, eh?”
“Yes, Mass’ Oakum, sah, dat’s him.”
“Hand over, and let’s feel the weight on it, ’Pollo, old man, only you needn’t do that, my lad. We found the spot for the govnors, and they’ll come down hansome.”
“Yes, Mass’ Oakum, sah, but I tink it great pity waste anyting, eben bit ob fat, so no like see bit ob silber fro overboard.”
“Where’s the stuff; ’Pollo?”
“I no got um, sah, dat’s why I came to ask you.”
“But is it so heavy as all that, ’Pollo?”
“No, sah, you no understand. I come on deck, find de silber, and I find someting else.”
“What’s that?” said Oakum sleepily.
“I find piece ob de crew, sah, all sit togedder in a corner, hatchin’ mutiny.”
“What?” exclaimed Oakum, whom these words galvanised into an excited state.
“Hatch de mutiny, sah.”
“I’ve good as expected as much,” exclaimed Oakum, giving his leg a slap. “Heave out, and let’s rouse the skipper. The beggars mean treachery.”
“We better go softly then, Mass’ Oakum, sah, or we get knife in de ribs.”
“Right, ’Pollo,” said Oakum; “let’s investigate first and see.”
Creeping softly up the ladder he just raised his head above the coamings of the hatchway, and peered cautiously round, but seeing nothing he drew himself the whole way out, and lay down on deck, ’Pollo following him on the instant.
“Well?” whispered Oakum, “what’s their bearings?”
’Pollo, for answer, crawled away into the darkness, and returned at the end of a couple of minutes to announce that they were all gone.
“Look here, Master ’Pollo,” growled Oakum in a whisper; “if you’ve woke me out of a fine sleep to humbug me, you and I will have a row.”
“I quite suah, sah, dat free sailor fellow set under de bulwark, sah, hatch mutiny.”
“Come and have a look round,” said the old fellow, and together they went softly to the man who had the watch forward, to find that he had heard nothing, though a sharper investigator than Oakum would have come to the conclusion that the fellow had been fast asleep.
A similar result followed the journey aft, when with a growl Oakum walked straight back to the hatchway, where he turned round.
“Lookye here, ’Pollo, old man, you get to your hammock and have a good night’s rest, or you’ll be rolling into the fire fast asleep to-morrow, and burning those beautiful curls of yourn. And lookye here, too, my lad, you leave that there silver rubbish alone, and trust to what the skippers and the govnors give you for reward. Good-night.”
“Dah!” cried ’Pollo, sulkily, “I don’t care who come and take de ship now. I no say word about more. Only get laugh at;” and muttering volubly to himself, he crept back to his hammock, and the next minute he was lying fast asleep with his mouth open.
The morning broke bright and beautiful, with the golden sunshine glinting through the tall columns of the palm-trees ashore, and lighting up the dark vistas of the jungle in the most wonderful manner; but the thoughts of all on board were directed not to the golden sunshine, save that it was available for the manner in which it lit up the depths of the clear sea; and all that day in steady turns Dutch, Mr Parkley, and Rasp went down, working away clearing out the sand, and sending up the iron buckets laden with silver.
Careful probing with the iron rod had shown them that the space in which the treasure lay was not great, only spread over a portion of the lower part of the old galleon of about twelve feet by sixteen; everywhere else the rod would penetrate to any depth, save where it came in contact with the old hardened ribs of the ship, or portions of its keel, and they gave forth to the touch such unmistakable signs of what the opposing material was that the adventurers were quite content.
A receptacle had been prepared for the treasure in the hold, and the way to this was down the cabin stairs, strong bulkheads cutting this off from the other portions of the vessel; and down here continuously, after the shelly concretions, where they existed, had been knocked off, was carried bucket after bucket of ingots, which Mr Jones and Oakum stacked as regularly as they would lie, while the captain superintended and kept watch on deck.
The men worked admirably: their wonder at the richness of the find passing away as the silver became common to their sight, for it was shot out of the buckets on to the deck, hammered even, and thrown about as if it was so much stone.
There were two or three alarms of sharks, but an occasional cartridge fired under water at a distance from the ship had the desired effect of scaring the monsters away.
Rasp worked even harder than Dutch, giving as his reason that they ought to make hay while the sun shone; and certainly he made a goodly addition to the silver stack, while Mr Parkley was not far behind his partner. The doctor, Mr Wilson, and even John Studwick helped, by cleaning the ingots as they were raised by the sailors in the buckets, and emptied out on deck, while Bessy Studwick, Hester, and ’Pollo aided by being always ready with refreshments as they were needed, and besides kept a lookout.
For it was determined to make the best use they could of the daylight, and consequently their meals were snatched in the little intervals of work. Even the men forbore to grumble at being kept without their regular food, for there was a novelty in their task.
The sand caused a great deal of trouble to the divers, but this was steadily mastered, and when at sunset the task was set aside for the night, and, wearied out, the adventurers sat down to the repast ’Pollo had prepared and the steward set out, the question was asked in a whisper, what was the value of the treasure recovered. Mr Parkley, who had been below, could only say —
“Many thousands.”
Story 1-Chapter XXVI.
A Good Resolution
The next day and the next and the next passed rapidly in the same toil; and work, rest, and refreshment were all that were thought of. Even Dutch had been seized now by the thirst for wealth, and, hardly looking at Hester, he toiled on at his task, while she, pale and rigid, kept watch over him, never once gaining confidence as she saw his many descents, but always tortured by the horror of that first day.
To her great relief, though, Lauré had hardly noticed her, and there seemed to be an unspoken truce existing between them. She could see that he was one of the most industrious of the workers, and she shuddered as she felt why this was, and knew that some terrible catastrophe might ere now have taken place on the schooner, only that Lauré wanted the divers to do their work to the full before he asserted himself.
And yet she dared not speak, feeling that to utter a warning would be to sign her husband’s death-warrant, while he, giving no heed to, perhaps not crediting, her sufferings, passed her by at times without a look.
But a change was rapidly approaching, and it took place so suddenly as almost to surprise Hester herself.
The only thing that had disturbed the harmony of the past week had been the bitter opposition of John Studwick to the advances made by the young doctor. So far from the presence of a medical man on board being of advantage to the invalid, it had served to irritate and annoy him, and more than once he had angrily turned his back and drawn his sister away with the petty jealousy of a child more than a man, all which the doctor had taken in quite good part, while Bessy had more than one hearty cry to herself, as she called it.
Hester and she were like sisters now, and in consequence a coolness existed towards Dutch, who saw nothing, however, but, miser-like, gloated over the enormous wealth he was helping to pile up for himself and partner.
It was on the ninth day of the diving that, all elate, and congratulating themselves on the calm and delightful weather that had attended their efforts, the task began once more. The sand had been well mastered, and great half-rotten, water-hardened pieces of timber had been removed, and the silver was sent up, from the ease with which it was obtained, at a greater rate than ever.
Dutch had been down five times, and he was now down for the sixth, having succeeded Mr Parkley, and wading to the hole that had been made, after filling the bucket with some difficulty, the silver having now become scarce, he took his bar and tried to remove a piece of blackened wood that showed plainly in the mid-day sun.
It seemed quite fast, but a good wrench moved it, and, lifting it with ease, Dutch carried it a few paces and thrust it between two of the ribs behind him.
A man shut up in a diver’s helmet and suit is not in a condition to feel much elation, but Dutch’s heart beat rapidly as he resumed and stooped to gaze down at what he had found. There was no mistake, though. The hold of the wreck had been cleared from side to side, and there was evidently no more silver – in fact, as far as it was concerned, the treasure was won. He tried the iron probe to find sand or wood – sand or wood, forward or aft, while, of course, the possibility of anything being found to right or left was bounded by the old ribs which now stood out clear to the keel.
But here, aft of the silver treasure, and separated originally, no doubt, by a strong timber partition, one of the timbers of which Dutch had wrenched away, dull red and glistening, totally free from shelly concretion, but in places bound together by a fine sand, lay, as he cleared away the covering from the surface, and plainly marked out by the black wood that surrounded it on three sides, forming a great chest-like place about four feet by six, but whose sides, of black rotten timber, were ten inches thick, what was evidently of greater value than the mass of silver they had obtained.
For there before him lay neatly packed, as they had been by busy hands at least two hundred and fifty years before, hundreds upon hundreds of little rough ingots of gold. Not a bar was displaced, for the massive framework in which they had been stowed, though rotten, had not given way like what had probably surrounded the silver, which lay tossed about at random.
“Wealth, wealth, rich gold,” muttered Dutch, as he signalled for more air; and then, looking more closely at his find, he could see by sweeping away the sand that slowly trickled back, as if eager to cover the treasure it had held secret so long, that the gold had not been packed as he had supposed, but had evidently been in little wooden boxes, which had rotted quite away, the places of the wood being filled up by sand, which lay in rectangular lines.
“The silver has all been saved without doubt,” said Dutch to himself as he gazed at his find, and thought of the delight with which the news would be received by his partner. Then he turned to get the bucket and fill it, wishing himself on deck when it arrived there to watch the astonishment of those who emptied it.
As he moved he had again to signal for more air, and looking down he saw the sand slowly trickling back over the gold, so that in a very few moments it would have been covered.
He picked up the shovel, meaning to throw the sand in that part more effectually away, when once more the difficulty of breathing attacked him.
He signalled for more air, but no more came, neither to his next signal; and feeling that something must be wrong with the apparatus, he was already on his way to the steps, when he received a signal to come up; and on reaching the surface, with the air becoming each moment more deficient, he was quickly helped on board and relieved of his helmet.
“I couldn’t help it, Mr Dutch,” exclaimed Rasp, “the leather’s giving way on the piston, and we must have a good repair.”
“But it’s held out just long enough,” said Mr Parkley, “for Rasp tells me we’ve got to the end, and he only just left you a little of the silver to send up.”
“Yea, Mr Pug, I tried all round, but there was nothing but wood and sand – wood and sand everywhere. ’Cept what you’ve sent up, I say there wasn’t a bit more silver left.”
“Why didn’t you say so before I went down?” said Dutch.
“Because I wanted to hear what you thought, and let you judge for yourself,” growled Rasp, handling a screw-hammer.
As they spoke, the men who had been pumping and hauling gathered round, evidently eager to hear what was said, and this made Dutch alter the words he was about to utter.
“Rasp is right,” he said, “I have sent up the last of the silver.”
“And have you tried well round with the rod?”
“Everywhere,” said Dutch, “and touched the ship’s timbers right down into the sand. There isn’t another bar of silver, I should say.”
“Well,” said Mr Parkley, “man’s never satisfied. I was quite ready to get more. There, my lads, we’ll clean up our apparatus.”
“Yes,” said the captain, “and clear the decks; they want it badly enough. You’ve worked well, my lads, and you shall have a bit of a feast for this. ’Pollo shall prepare you a supper, and we’ll drink success to our next venture.”
The men gave a bit of a cheer, but on the whole they looked rather disappointed, and Dutch, he hardly knew why, held his peace about the gold. One thing was evident: nothing could be done to get it on deck till the worn valve of the air-pump had been repaired, and this Rasp declared would take him all the afternoon, for he would have to apply new leathers and india-rubber.
So the diving suits were hung up to dry, the helmets, polished dry and clean, and placed upon their stands. Mr Parkley and the doctor, who had looked upon this part as more in his province – Mr Parkley said because it helped to destroy life – had coiled up the wires, emptied the battery, and placed the dynamite in safety, and the rough shelly matter was thrown over the side, while Dutch, who had still kept his discovery to himself, was down below close to the end of the wind-sail – that canvas funnel that took down a constant current of fresh air – smoking a cigar with Mr Wilson, the naturalist, who was chatting away about his birds, and his determination to have another run or two on shore to shoot, asking his companion to accompany him.
“It would do the ladies so much good, too, I’m sure,” said Mr Wilson; “and really, Mr Pugh, I never dare speak to Miss Studwick now,” he added with a sigh, “for if I do, her brother looks daggers at me, and if I mention Mrs Pugh, you look just as cross.”
Dutch had been saying “Yes” and “No” in amusing manner, hardly hearing what his companion said, but the mention of his wife’s name made him start angrily round and glare at the speaker.
“There, that’s just how Mr Studwick, junior, looks at me,” said the naturalist simply. “A regular jealous, fierce look. I wish you would not treat me so, Mr Pugh,” he continued earnestly, and with a pleading look in his weak, lamblike face, “for I like you, I do, indeed. I always have liked you, Mr Pugh, and how you can fancy I have dishonourable ideas about Mrs Pugh I can’t think. It shocks me, Mr Pugh, it does, indeed.”
“My dear fellow,” said Dutch, smiling, half in amusement, half in contempt, “I never did think any such thing.”
“Then why do you look at me so?” continued Wilson, mildly. “You see,” he said, with gathering enthusiasm, “I love Miss Studwick very dearly, but I seem to have no hope whatever. But why are you so angry?”
“There, there, there, don’t talk about it,” said Dutch, shaking the naturalist’s hand. “These are matters one don’t like to talk about.”
“Yes, yes, of course,” said Wilson, looking at him wistfully. “But you won’t mention what I said.”
“As to your love confidences,” said Dutch smiling, “they are safe with me; but look here, Wilson, you are better as you are – better as you are.”
“You think so, perhaps,” said the young man; “but I do not. You are angry with Mrs Pugh for something: that is all. She is very pretty, but perhaps she is a little imprudent,” he added simply.
“What do you mean?” exclaimed Dutch angrily.
“Don’t be cross with me, Mr Pugh. Perhaps I am wrong.”
“Speak! What do you mean?” exclaimed Dutch, panting.
“I only thought she ought to be more particular, perhaps, as a lady, and not speak to the dark mulatto sailor.”
“Have – have you seen her speaking to – to that man?” said Dutch, with his breath coming thick and short.
“Yes, I did last night,” said Wilson; “but I did not mention it to anyone else, and of course she was only doing it out of kindness, for she is very amiable.”
“When – when was it?” panted Dutch, whose face flushed with shame and anger that he should be stooping to ask such questions.
“Just after dark, when you diving people were having your meal below. They parted, though, directly.”
“Thanks; say no more about this,” said Dutch, more calmly. “Perhaps it looks a little imprudent, but, as you say, she is so amiable and kind to the men that her actions are easily misconstrued.”
Dutch rose to go on deck, for the air in the cabin seemed to stifle him, but Wilson arrested his steps.
“But you will come if we have a shooting expedition, Mr Pugh?” he exclaimed. “You have not been ashore yet, but spending your time over this dreadful treasure-hunting, when the treasures ashore are a thousand times more beautiful.”
“I will see – perhaps – I cannot say,” replied Dutch; and he stumbled on deck to stand watching Rasp, who was busy over the air-pump, which he had taken all to pieces, but as it was close upon dusk he was collecting the various screws and placing them loosely in their proper holes before covering all over with a tarpaulin to keep off the heavy night dew that hung in drops each morning from every rail.
The words of Wilson, the simple-hearted naturalist, had so troubled Dutch that his mind was once more in a whirl. Till then he had been gradually getting into a calm, resigned state, and accepting the inevitable; but now to hear such remarks as these about his wife’s conduct was simply maddening him, and as he went and leaned over the side, gazing down into the pure water where the golden treasure lay, it was forgotten mostly in the trouble of his heart, and he made up his mind that he would see Hester and demand some full explanation of her conduct, and so end this terrible suspense.
“I will know,” he muttered; and as he rose he felt surprised at the lapse of time, for the short tropic twilight had given place to intense darkness while he had been brooding over his troubles, and now it occurred to him that he had not told Mr Parkley about the gold.
“I’ll see him now,” he said; and he was turning to go to the cabin stairs when the low musical voice of his wife fell upon his ear, and though the darkness was so great that he could not see her he was aware that she was close at hand in conversation with some one whose voice seemed familiar.
He could not make out a word, but it was evident that whoever was speaking to Hester was addressing her in a low, passionate tone, while her replies were almost inaudible.
Who was it? Not the mulatto: his peculiar, harsh, grating voice was too familiar. This was the voice of some one who made his nerves thrill with rage and indescribable emotion; and yet in his confusion and excitement he could not make out who it could be.
“I cannot play the spy like this,” said Dutch to himself, and, raging as he was with curiosity and mortification, he walked away; but his agony was unbearable, and, turning back, he approached the spot once more, to hear a half-stifled cry for help; then there was the noise of a slight struggle, and he darted forward to strike himself against the foremast and stagger back half-stunned, and lean against the side to collect his scattered thoughts.
For his forehead had come violently into collision with the mast, and for a few minutes memory forsook her seat, and a strange sense of sickness accompanied the oblivion.
This soon passed off, though, and now, thoroughly roused, Dutch retraced his steps, going with outstretched hands to the spot whence the voices had seemed to proceed, to find all perfectly still.
“But she was here,” he muttered moodily; and recalling his determination to insist upon a full explanation, Dutch walked straight to the cabin occupied by Bessy Studwick and his wife, and stood listening for a few moments before he knocked.
He could hear voices behind him, where it was evident that the captain and his friends were gathered, and upon listening more attentively he learned what he wished to know, but was never in doubt about – namely, the presence of Hester in the little cabin.
She was there, though, for he heard some one talking in a low tone, and that there was a low sob.
He waited no longer but knocked.
There was no reply.
He knocked again, and there was a rustling sound within which made his heart beat heavily, the blood rushed to his eyes, and a strange swimming affected his brain, as the horrible suspicion crossed his mind that it was not Bessy Studwick’s voice he had heard, but the same that he had listened to on deck.
Fighting against the dizzy sensation, and striving to become calm, he raised his hands and stood in the attitude of one about to hurl himself against the door and burst it from its fastenings; but something seemed to restrain him, and he knocked again, and this time plainly enough, he heard Hester’s voice in an excited whisper say, —
“He is there! pray, pray, don’t open the door.”
It never occurred to Dutch that his wife could not know that it was he who knocked, for the hard jealousy that he had taken to his heart suggested and thought but evil of the woman he had sworn to love and protect. It was not Bessy Studwick, then, who was with her, and they dared not open the door. He had given up before, and sought no revenge; this time he would have it if he died.
“Open this door,” he said in a low deep whisper, full of the rage he felt, for in his mad cunning he told himself that if he raised his voice or broke in the door, he would alarm the occupants of the other cabin.
There was a dead silence for a few moments, and he was about to make a fresh demand as his hands clenched, and the veins in his forehead stood out throbbing from the excess of his wild emotion.
“Will you open this door?” he hissed again savagely, with his lips close to the panel.
“No,” exclaimed a firm voice. “Make the slightest attempt to enter again, and I will alarm the ship.”
Dutch Pugh’s hands dropped to his side and a sigh like a groan burst from his lips as he staggered away on deck, and going to the side rested his aching head upon the rail.
“Am I mad?” he said to himself. “That was Bessy Studwick. Could it have been her I heard talking here on deck? No, that was impossible, for there was the struggle. Oh! Hester, Hester, my darling, forgive me if I am judging you wrongfully; I’d give my life to believe you true, and yet again to-night I am so ready to accuse you in my heart.
“It is no use, I will not lead this life of hell upon earth: she must – she shall explain her conduct. There was some reason more than I know for her coming on board here. Her conversations with that mulatto. That meeting to-night. Ha! is it possible? Yes! I have it at last: Studwick was right: Lauré’s influence still with us. Bah! I believe I am half-mad,” he said, with a contemptuous ejaculation. “I will see her in the morning, and this trouble shall be cleared away.”
As he spoke he went down to the cabin he shared with the doctor, feeling lighter of heart for the resolution he had made, and telling himself that half his trouble might have been saved had he spoken to his wife. “She might even have come out of the trial unscathed,” he said, with a strong feeling of elation, and worn out mentally and bodily he threw himself half dressed into his berth, after opening the little window, for the heat was stifling.
“A good resolution at last,” muttered Dutch as he laid his head upon his pillow, and as he dropped off to sleep listening to the lapping of the water against the schooner’s side, the sound seemed to form itself into a repetition of the words – “Too late, too late, too late,” until he fell into a heavy sleep.
