Kitabı oku: «The Adventures of Captain Horn», sayfa 7

CHAPTER XIV. A PILE OF FUEL

Four days had passed, and nothing had happened. The stone mound in the lake had not been visited, for there had been no reason for sending the black men away, and with one of them nearer than a mile the captain would not even look at his treasure. There was no danger that they would discover the mound, for they were not allowed to take the lantern, and no one of them would care to wander into the dark, sombre depths of the cavern without a light.

The four white people, who, with a fair habitation in the rocks, with plenty of plain food to eat, with six servants to wait on them, and a climate which was continuously delightful, except in the middle of the day, and with all fear of danger from man or beast removed from their minds, would have been content to remain here a week or two longer and await the arrival of a vessel to take them away, were now in a restless and impatient condition of mind. They were all eager to escape from the place. Three of them longed for the return of Rynders, but the other one steadily hoped that they might get away before his men came back.

How to do this, or how to take with him the treasure of the Incas, was a puzzling question with which the captain racked his brains by day and by night. At last he bethought himself of the Rackbirds’ vessel. He remembered that Maka had told him that provisions were brought to them by a vessel, and there was every reason to suppose that when these miscreants went on some of their marauding expeditions they travelled by sea. Day by day he had thought that he would go and visit the Rackbirds’ storehouse and the neighborhood thereabout, but day by day he had been afraid that in his absence Rynders might arrive, and when he came he wanted to be there to meet him.

But now the idea of the boat made him brave this possible contingency, and early one morning, with Cheditafa and two other of the black fellows, he set off along the beach for the mouth of the little stream which, rising somewhere in the mountains, ran down to the cavern where it had once widened and deepened into a lake, and then through the ravine of the Rackbirds on to the sea. When he reached his destination, Captain Horn saw a great deal to interest him.

Just beyond the second ridge of rock which Maka had discovered, the stream ran into a little bay, and the shores near its mouth showed evident signs that they had recently been washed by a flood. On points of rock and against the sides of the sand mounds, he saw bits of debris from the Rackbirds’ camp. Here were sticks which had formed the timbers of their huts; there were pieces of clothing and cooking-utensils; and here and there, partly buried by the shifting sands, were seen the bodies of Rackbirds, already desiccated by the dry air and the hot sun of the region. But the captain saw no vessel.

“Dat up here,” said Cheditafa. “Dey hide dat well. Come ‘long, captain.”

Following his black guide, the captain skirted a little promontory of rocks, and behind it found a cove in which, well concealed, lay the Rackbirds’ vessel. It was a sloop of about twenty tons, and from the ocean, or even from the beach, it could not be seen. But as the captain stood and gazed upon this craft his heart sank. It had no masts nor sails, and it was a vessel that could not be propelled by oars.

Wading through the shallow water, — for it was now low tide, — the captain climbed on board. The deck was bare, without a sign of spar or sail, and when, with Cheditafa’s help, he had forced the entrance of the little companionway, and had gone below, he found that the vessel had been entirely stripped of everything that could be carried away, and when he went on deck again he saw that even the rudder had been unshipped and removed. Cheditafa could give him no information upon this state of things, but after a little while Captain Horn imagined the cause for this dismantled condition of the sloop. The Rackbirds’ captain could not trust his men, he said to himself, and he made it impossible for any of them to escape or set out on an expedition for themselves. It was likely that the masts and sails had been carried up to the camp, from which place it would have been impossible to remove them without the leader knowing it.

When he spoke to Cheditafa on the subject, the negro told him that after the little ship came in from one of its voyages he and his companions had always carried the masts, sails, and a lot of other things up to the camp. But there was nothing of the sort there now. Every spar and sail must have been carried out to sea by the flood, for if they had been left on the shores of the stream the captain would have seen them.

This was hard lines for Captain Horn. If the Rackbirds’ vessel had been in sailing condition, everything would have been very simple and easy for him. He could have taken on board not only his own party, but a large portion of the treasure, and could have sailed away as free as a bird, without reference to the return of Rynders and his men. A note tied to a pole set up in a conspicuous place on the beach would have informed Mr. Rynders of their escape from the place, and it was not likely that any of the party would have thought it worth while to go farther on shore. But it was of no use to think of getting away in this vessel. In its present condition it was absolutely useless.

While the captain had been thinking and considering the matter, Cheditafa had been wandering about the coast exploring. Presently Captain Horn saw him running toward him, accompanied by the two other negroes.

“’Nother boat over there,” cried Cheditafa, as the captain approached him, — ”’nother boat, but badder than this. No good. Cook with it, that’s all.”

The captain followed Cheditafa across the little stream, and a hundred yards or so along the shore, and over out of reach of the tide, piled against a low sand mound, he saw a quantity of wood, all broken into small pieces, and apparently prepared, as Cheditafa had suggested, for cooking-fires. It was also easy to see that these pieces of wood had once been part of a boat, perhaps of a wreck thrown up on shore. The captain approached the pile of wood and picked up some of the pieces. As he held in his hand a bit of gunwale, not much more than a foot in length, his eyes began to glisten and his breath came quickly. Hastily pulling out several pieces from the mass of debris, he examined them thoroughly. Then he stepped back, and let the piece of rudder he was holding drop to the sand.

“Cheditafa,” said he, speaking huskily, “this is one of the Castor’s boats. This is a piece of the boat in which Rynders and the men set out.”

The negro looked at the captain and seemed frightened by the expression on his face. For a moment he did not speak, and then in a trembling voice he asked, “Where all them now?”

The captain shook his head, but said nothing. That pile of fragments was telling him a tale which gradually became plainer and plainer to him, and which he believed as if Rynders himself had been telling it to him. His ship’s boat, with its eight occupants, had never gone farther south than the mouth of the little stream. That they had been driven on shore by the stress of weather the captain did not believe. There had been no high winds or storms since their departure. Most likely they had been induced to land by seeing some of the Rackbirds on shore, and they had naturally rowed into the little cove, for assistance from their fellow-beings was what they were in search of. But no matter how they happened to land, the Rackbirds would never let them go away again to carry news of the whereabouts of their camp. Almost unarmed, these sailors must have fallen easy victims to the Rackbirds.

It was not unlikely that the men had been shot down from ambush without having had any intercourse or conversation with the cruel monsters to whom they had come to seek relief, for had there been any talk between them, Rynders would have told of his companions left on shore, and these would have been speedily visited by the desperadoes. For the destruction of the boat there was reason enough: the captain of the Rackbirds gave his men no chance to get away from him.

With a heart of lead, Captain Horn turned to look at his negro companions, and saw them all sitting together on the sands, chattering earnestly, and holding up their hands with one or more fingers extended, as if they were counting. Cheditafa came forward.

“When all your men go away from you?” he asked.

The captain reflected a moment, and then answered, “About two weeks ago.”

“That’s right! That’s right!” exclaimed the negro, nodding violently as he spoke. “We talk about that. We count days. It’s just ten days and three days, and Rackbirds go ‘way, and leave us high up in rock-hole, with no ladder. After a while we hear guns, guns, guns. Long time guns shooting. When they come back, it almost dark, and they want supper bad. All time they eat supper, they talk ‘bout shooting sharks. Shot lots sharks, and chuck them into the water. Sharks in water already before they is shot. We say then it no sharks they shot. Now we say it must been — ”

The captain turned away. He did not want to hear any more. There was no possible escape from the belief that Rynders and all his men had been shot down, and robbed, if they had anything worth taking, and then their bodies carried out to sea, most likely in their own boat, and thrown overboard.

There was nothing more at this dreadful place that Captain Horn wished to see, to consider, or to do, and calling the negroes to follow him, he set out on his return.

During the dreary walk along the beach the captain’s depression of spirits was increased by the recollection of his thoughts about the sailors and the treasure. He had hoped that these men would not come back in time to interfere with his disposal, in his own way, of the gold he had found. They would not come back now, but the thought did not lighten his heart. But before he reached the caves, he had determined to throw off the gloom and sadness which had come upon him. Under the circumstances, grief for what had happened was out of place. He must keep up a good heart, and help his companions to keep up good hearts. Now he must do something, and, like a soldier in battle, he must not think of the comrade who had fallen beside him, but of the enemy in front of him.

When he reached the caves he found supper ready, and that evening he said nothing to his companions of the important discoveries he had made, contenting himself with a general statement of the proofs that the Rackbirds and their camp had been utterly destroyed by the flood.

CHAPTER XV. THE CLIFF-MAKA SCHEME

The next morning Captain Horn arose with a plan of action in his mind, and he was now ready, not only to tell the two ladies and Ralph everything he had discovered, but also what he was going to do. The announcement of the almost certain fate of Rynders and his men filled his hearers with horror, and the statement of the captain’s plans did not tend to raise their spirits.

“You see,” said he, “there is nothing now for us to wait for here. As to being taken off by a passing vessel, there is no chance of that whatever. We have gone over that matter before. Nor can we get away overland, for some of us would die on the way. As to that little boat down there, we cannot all go to sea in her, but in it I must go out and seek for help.”

“And leave us here!” cried Mrs. Cliff. “Do not think of that, captain! Whatever happens, let us all keep together.”

“That cannot be,” he said. “I must go because I am the only seaman among you, and I will take four of those black fellows with me. I do not apprehend any danger unless we have to make a surf landing, and even then they can all swim like fishes, while I am very well able to take care of myself in the water. I shall sail down the coast until I come to a port, and there put in. Then I will get a vessel of some sort and come back for you. I shall leave with you two of these negroes — Cheditafa, who seems to be a highly respectable old person, and can speak English, and Mok, who, although he can’t talk to you, can understand a great deal that is said to him. Apart from his being such an abject coward, he seems to be a good, quiet fellow, willing to do what he is told. On the whole, I think he has the best disposition of the four black dummies, begging their pardons. I will take the three others, with Maka as head man and interpreter. If I should be cast on shore by a storm, I could swim through the surf to the dry land, but I could not undertake to save any one else. If this misfortune should happen, we could make our way on foot down the coast.”

“But suppose you should meet some Rackbirds?” cried Ralph.

“I have no fear of that,” answered the captain. “I do not believe there is another set of such scoundrels on this hemisphere. So, as soon as I can get that boat in order, and rig up a mast and a sail for her, I shall provision her well and set out. Of course, I do not want to leave you all here, but there is no help for it, and I don’t believe you need have the slightest fear of harm. Later, we will plan what is to be done by you and by me, and get everything clear and straight. The first thing is to get the boat ready, and I shall go to work on that to-day. I will also take some of the negroes down to the Rackbirds’ camp, and bring away more stores.”

“Oh, let me go!” cried Ralph. “It is the cruellest thing in the world to keep me cooped up here. I never go anywhere, and never do anything.”

But the captain shook his head. “I am sorry, my boy,” said he, “to keep you back so much, but it cannot be helped. When I go away, I shall make it a positive condition that you do not leave your sister and Mrs. Cliff, and I do not want you to begin now.” A half-hour afterwards, when the captain and his party had set out, Ralph came to his sister and sat down by her.

“Do you know,” said he, “what I think of Captain Horn? I think he is a brave man, and a man who knows what to do when things turn up suddenly, but, for all that, I think he is a tyrant. He does what he pleases, and he makes other people do what he pleases, and consults nobody.”

“My dear Ralph,” said Edna, “if you knew how glad I am we have such a man to manage things, you would not think in that way. A tyrant is just what we want in our situation, provided he knows what ought to be done, and I think that Captain Horn does know.”

“That’s just like a woman,” said Ralph. “I might have expected it.”

During the rest of that day and the morning of the next, everybody in the camp worked hard and did what could be done to help the captain prepare for his voyage, and even Ralph, figuratively speaking, put his hand to the oar.

The boat was provisioned for a long voyage, though the captain hoped to make a short one, and at noon he announced that he would set out late that afternoon.

“It will be flood-tide, and I can get away from the coast better then than if the tide were coming in.”

“How glad I should be to hear you speak in that way,” said Mrs. Cliff, “if we were only going with you! But to be left here seems like a death sentence all around. You may be lost at sea while we perish on shore.”

“I do not expect anything of the sort!” exclaimed Edna. “With Ralph and two men to defend us, we can stay here a long time. As for the captain’s being lost, I do not think of it for a moment. He knows how to manage a boat too well for that.”

“I don’t like it at all! I don’t like it at all!” exclaimed Mrs. Cliff. “I don’t expect misfortunes any more than other people do, but our common sense tells us they may come, and we ought to be prepared for them. Of course, you are a good sailor, captain, but if it should happen that you should never come back, or even if it should be a very long time before you come back, how are we going to know what we ought to do? As far as I know the party you leave behind you, we would all be of different opinions if any emergency arose. As long as you are with us, I feel that, no matter what happens, the right thing will be done. But if you are away — ”

At this moment Mrs. Cliff was interrupted by the approach of Maka, who wished very much to speak to the captain. As the negro was not a man who would be likely to interrupt a conversation except for an important reason, the captain followed him to a little distance. There he found, to his surprise, that although he had left one person to speak to another, the subject was not changed.

“Cap’n,” said Maka, “when you go ‘way, who’s boss?”

The captain frowned, and yet he could not help feeling interested in this anxiety regarding his successor. “Why do you ask that?” he said. “What difference does it make who gives you your orders when I am gone?”

Maka shook his head. “Big difference,” he said. “Cheditafa don’ like boy for boss. He wan’ me tell you, if boy is boss, he don’ wan’ stay. He wan’ go ‘long you.”

“You can tell Cheditafa,” said the captain, quickly, “that if I want him to stay he’ll stay, and if I want him to go he’ll go. He has nothing to say about that. So much for him. Now, what do you think?”

“Like boy,” said Maka, “but not for boss.”

The captain was silent for a moment. Here was a matter which really needed to be settled. If he had felt that he had authority to do as he pleased, he would have settled it in a moment.

“Cap’n big man. He know everyt’ing,” said Maka. “But when cap’n go ‘way, boy t’ink he big man. Boy know nothin’. Better have woman for boss.”

Captain Horn could not help being amused. “Which woman?” he asked.

“I say old one. Cheditafa say young one.”

The captain was not a man who would readily discuss his affairs with any one, especially with such a man as Maka; but now the circumstances were peculiar, and he wanted to know the opinions of these men he was about to leave behind him.

“What made you and Cheditafa think that way?” he asked.

“I t’ink old one know more,” replied the negro, “and Cheditafa t’ink wife make bes’ boss when cap’n gone, and young one make bes’ wife.”

“You impertinent black scoundrels!” exclaimed the captain, taking a step toward Maka, who bounced backward a couple of yards. “What do you mean by talking about Miss Markham and me in that way? I’ll — ” But there he paused. It would not be convenient to knock the heads off these men at this time. “Cheditafa must be a very great fool,” said he, speaking more quietly. “Does he suppose I could call anybody my wife just for the sake of giving you two men a boss?”

“Oh, Cheditafa know!” exclaimed Maka, but without coming any nearer the captain. “He know many, many t’ings, but he ‘fraid come tell you hisself.”

“I should think he would be,” replied the captain, “and I wonder you are not afraid, too.”

“Oh, I is, I is,” said Maka. “I’s all w’ite inside. But somebody got speak boss ‘fore he go ‘way. If nobody speak, den you go ‘way — no boss. All crooked. Nobody b’long to anybody. Den maybe men come down from mountain, or maybe men come in boat, and dey say, ‘Who’s all you people? Who you b’long to?’ Den dey say dey don’ b’long nobody but demselves. Den, mos’ like, de w’ite ones gets killed for dey clothes and dey money. And Cheditafa and me we gets tuck somew’ere to be slaves. But if we say, ‘Dat lady big Cap’n Horn’s wife — all de t’ings and de people b’long to big he’ — hi! dey men hands off — dey shake in de legs. Everybody know big Cap’n Horn.”

The captain could not help laughing. “I believe you are as big a fool as Cheditafa,” said he. “Don’t you know I can’t make a woman my wife just by calling her so?”

“Don’ mean dat!” exclaimed Maka. “Cheditafa don’ mean dat. He make all right. He priest in he own country. He marry people. He marry you ‘fore you go, all right. He talk ‘bout dat mos’ all night, but ‘fraid come tell cap’n.”

The absurdity of this statement was so great that it made the captain laugh instead of making him angry; but before he could say anything more to Maka, Mrs. Cliff approached him. “You must excuse me, captain,” she said, “but really the time is very short, and I have a great deal to say to you, and if you have finished joking with that colored man, I wish you would talk with me.”

“You will laugh, too,” said the captain, “when you hear what he said to me.” And in a few words he told her what Maka had proposed.

Instead of laughing, Mrs. Cliff stood staring at him in silent amazement.

“I see I have shocked you,” said the captain, “but you must remember that that is only a poor heathen’s ignorant vagary. Please say nothing about it, especially to Miss Markham.”

“Say nothing about it!” exclaimed Mrs. Cliff. “I wish I had a thousand tongues to talk of it. Captain, do you really believe that Cheddy man is a priest, or what goes for one in his own country? If he is, he ought to marry you and Edna.”

The captain frowned, with an air of angry impatience. “I could excuse that poor negro, madam,” he said, “when he made such a proposition to me, but I must say I did not expect anything of the kind from you. Do you think, even if we had a bishop with us, that I would propose to marry any woman in the world for the sake of making her what that fellow called the ‘boss’ of this party?”

It was now Mrs. Cliff’s turn to be impatient. “That boss business is a very small matter,” she replied, “although, of course, somebody must be head while you are gone, and it was about this that I came to see you. But after hearing what that colored man said, I want to speak of something far more important, which I have been thinking and thinking about, and to which I could see no head or tail until a minute ago. Before I go on, I want you to answer me this question: If you are lost at sea, and never come back, what is to become of that treasure? It is yours now, as you let us know plainly enough, but whose will it be if you should die? It may seem like a selfish and sordid thing for me to talk to you in this way just before you start on such an expedition, but I am a business woman, — since my husband’s death I have been obliged to be that, — and I look at things with a business eye. Have you considered this matter?”

“Yes, I have,” answered the captain, “very seriously.”

“And so have I,” said Mrs. Cliff. “Whether Edna has or not I don’t know, for she has said nothing to me. Now, we are not related to you, and, of course, have no claim upon you in that way, but I do think that, as we have all suffered together, and gone through dangers together, we all ought to share, in some degree at least, in good things as well as bad ones.”

“Mrs. Cliff,” said the captain, speaking very earnestly, “you need not say anything more on that subject. I have taken possession of that treasure, and I intend to hold it, in order that I may manage things in my own way, and avoid troublesome disputes. But I have not the slightest idea of keeping it all for myself. I intend that everybody who has had any concern in this expedition shall have a share in it. I have thought over the matter a great deal, and intended, before I left, to tell you and Miss Markham what I have decided upon. Here is a paper I have drawn up. It is my will. It is written in lead — pencil and may not be legal, but it is the best I can do. I have no relatives, except a few second cousins somewhere out in the Northwest, and I don’t want them to have anything to do directly with my property, for they would be sure to make trouble. Here, as you see, I leave to you, Miss Markham, and Ralph all the property, of every kind and description, of which I may die possessed. This, of course, would cover all treasure you may be able to take away from this place, and which, without this will, might be claimed by some of my distant relatives, if they should ever chance to hear the story of my discovery.

“Besides this, I have written here, on another page of this note — book, a few private directions as to how I want the treasure disposed of. I say nothing definite, and mention no exact sums, but, in a general way, I have left everything in the hands of you two ladies. I know that you will make a perfectly just and generous disposition of what you may get.”

“That is all very kind and good of you,” said Mrs. Cliff, “but I cannot believe that such a will would be of much service. If you have relatives you are afraid of, — and I see you have, — if Edna Markham were your widow, then by law she would get a good part of it, even if she did not get it all, and if Edna got it, we would be perfectly satisfied.”

“It is rather a grim business to talk about Miss Markham being my widow,” said the captain, “especially under such circumstances. It strikes me that the kind of marriage you propose would be a good deal flimsier than this will.”

“It does not strike me so,” said she. “A mere confession before witnesses by a man and woman that they are willing to take each other for husband and wife is often a legal ceremony, and if there is any kind of a religious person present to perform the ceremony, it helps, and in a case like this no stone should be left unturned. You see, you have assumed a great deal of responsibility about this. You have stated — and if we were called upon to testify, Miss Markham and I would have to acknowledge that you have so stated — that you claimed this treasure as your discovery, and that it all belonged to you. So, you see, if we keep our consciences clear, — and no matter what happens, we are going to do that, — we might be obliged to testify every cent of it away from ourselves. But if Edna were your wife, it would be all right.”

The captain stood silent for a few moments, his hands thrust into his pockets, and a queer smile on his face. “Mrs. Cliff,” said he, presently, “do you expect me to go to Miss Markham and gravely propose this scheme which you and that half — tamed African have concocted?”

“I think it would be better,” said Mrs. Cliff, “if I were to prepare her mind for it. I will go speak to her now.”

“No,” said he, quickly, “don’t you do that. If the crazy idea is to be mentioned to her at all, I want to do it myself, and in my own way. I will go to her now. I have had my talk with you, and I must have one with her.”