Kitabı oku: «The Island Queen», sayfa 9
Chapter Ten.
Describes a Rescue, a Conspiracy, and a Trial
Proverbially a stern chase is a long one. Happily, there are exceptions to proverbs as well as rules. The chase of the war-canoe, however, with the captured queen on board, did not promise to be exceptional at first, for the canoe was light and sharp, and powerfully manned, so that the savages could relieve each other frequently, whereas the settlers’ boat was heavy and blunt, and not by any means too full of men. It soon became apparent that the latter was no match for the former under oars. The distance between the two visibly increased.
Dr Marsh steered. He was deadly pale, and there was a peculiarly intense expression of anxiety in the steady gaze with which he watched the ever-diminishing canoe.
“No chance?” muttered Jabez Jenkins, who happened to form one of the crew and pulled the bow oar.
“No chance?” repeated Dominick, who also pulled one of the oars. “There’s every chance. We’re sure to tire them out. Ho! lads, give way with a will!”
Although labouring already with all his might, indignation at Jenkins’s remark enabled him to put on a spurt, which the others imitated. Still the distance between boat and canoe increased.
“They are three to one,” growled Malines, who, up to that time, had been doing his best.
“Silence!” thundered the doctor, drawing a revolver from his pocket and cocking it.
Beads of perspiration stood on the doctor’s brow, and there was something so terrible in the look of his white face that no one ventured to utter another word, but all pulled as if for their lives.
For some minutes no sound was heard save the regular rattle of the oars in the rowlocks, the swish of the foam as it flew from the cutwater, and the occasional sob or gasp of the men as they exerted themselves to the utmost limit of their powers in the hopeless pursuit.
Suddenly Teddy Malone cried eagerly, “Look out—astarn!”
All turned their gaze as directed, and observed a dark line on the horizon.
“Thank God!” murmured the doctor, “a breeze!”
It was indeed true. Just at this critical moment of profound, despair, a gleam of hope was sent to sustain them! Is it not often thus in the dealings of God with man?
There was no relaxation of effort, however, on the part of the crew until the breeze bore down on them. Then the mate and Hugh Morrison, drawing in their oars, set up the mast and hoisted the sails. Instantly the good craft bent over, as if bowing submissively to her rightful lord, and the gurgling water rolled swiftly from her prow. Still the men plied the oars, but now with the strength of hope, until the breeze freshened so much as to render their further use unnecessary.
“Now, indeed, the tables are turned,” said Dominick with a great sigh of relief, as he drew in his oar.
“Yes; if the wind holds,” said the doctor, glancing back anxiously.
“It’ll howld,” said Malone firmly.
“Who made you so sure a judge of weather?” demanded Jenkins.
“Sure it isn’t me as is judge. It’s the widdy. She says to me this mornin’, says she, ‘The’ll be a stiff breeze afore night, Teddy,’ an’ I nivver found the widdy wrong in her forecasts o’ the weather.”
“The distance decreases rapidly! Hurrah! boys, we’ll catch them yet,” cried Dominick.
This was obviously the case. With her large sails filled by a stiff breeze almost directly astern, the boat went through the water like “a thing of life.” The savages, perceiving this, redoubled their efforts, but in vain. The pursuers gained on them rapidly.
An exclamation of surprise burst from those in the boat as they observed two splashes, one on either side of the canoe, as if some one had fallen or leaped overboard. A great shout from the savages followed, and they suddenly ceased to paddle. The canoe was still too far off for the pursuers to make out what had occurred; but in another minute they observed that two round black objects emerged from the water some distance astern of the canoe. The savages also saw these, and uttered a frightful yell as they backed their craft towards them.
“They’ve jumped overboard!” exclaimed Dominick. “Now, boys—ready with your guns!”
No need for this order. All were ready in a second, but none dared to fire for fear of hitting the swimmers.
Just then a savage rose in the stern of the canoe and poised a short spear.
Instantly every gun in the boat was pointed.
“Not a shot!” shouted Dr Marsh, as he sprang forward with a double-barrelled rifle in his hand.
“Keep her away two points!” he cried, as he knelt to take aim. Every one was well aware of the doctor’s power of shooting, and waited the result with bated breath. The savage seemed to bend backward for the cast of the spear. At that moment the crack of the doctor’s rifle was heard, and the right arm of the savage fell.
Another savage caught up the spear, and urged his comrades, apparently, to back the canoe still further; but they had got a fright, and were evidently unwilling to do so. Before they could make up their minds, another shot from the doctor’s rifle sent the second savage headlong into the bottom of the canoe.
“Give them a volley now, lads,” he said, turning round and resuming his place at the helm; “but fire high.”
The rattling volley which followed, and the whistle of the leaden hail over their heads, quickly settled the savage minds. One of their paddles, which chanced to be held aloft at the moment, was shot into splinters, and precipitated their decision. With a howl of rage and terror they dipped their paddles into the sea and flew ahead.
“Be ready there,” cried the doctor, as he anxiously guided the boat.
Teddy Malone, Morris, Dominick, and Jabez leaned eagerly over the bows with outstretched arms and clawlike fingers. Another moment and Queen Pina with Otto were rescued from the deep, as well as from several sharks, which, doubtless, had been licking their lips at the prospect of the royal feast in store for them.
“Ain’t you goin’ to carry on, an’ sink the varmints?” exclaimed Jabez in surprise, as the doctor put the helm hard down, and prepared to return home.
“No,” replied the doctor sharply.
During the voyage out the crew of the wrecked ship had become intimately acquainted with the doctor’s qualities, among others that there was a certain quiet tone in his “no” which was final. To put the belligerents of the party more at rest, however, Dominick backed his friend up by adding that he had no ill-will to the miserable savages; that they had been punished enough already; that they had got all they wanted from them; and that as their own party consisted chiefly of settlers, not warriors, there was no occasion for fighting.
“Speak for yourself, Dom,” cried Otto, as he wrung the water out of his garments. “If I was in that canoe with a good carving-knife, I’d be warrior enough to give a settler to the baboon wi’ the swelled nose who crammed me into a—”
The remainder of the speech was drowned in laughter, for Otto spoke with intense indignation, as he thought of the injuries and indignities he had so recently suffered.
“Why, what did they do to you, Otto?” asked his brother.
“Oh! I can’t tell you,” replied the other; “I’m too mad. Tell ’em, Pina.”
Queen Pina, who had also been engaged for some minutes in wringing the water from her skirts, sat down, and, in the sweetest of voices, told how they had been surprised on the islet, how Otto had flattened a chief’s nose with an oar, and how they had afterwards been carried off.
“Then,” she added, “when they saw that you were unable to overtake them, the chief with the swelled nose began to beat poor Otto and pull his hair savagely. I do believe he would have killed him if a man who seemed to be the leader of them all had not ordered him to desist. When you put up the sail and began to overtake us, the chief with the swelled nose got out a rough kind of sack and tried to thrust Otto into it. While he was struggling with this chief—”
“Fighting,” interrupted Otto; “fighting with the baboon.”
“Well, fighting, if you prefer it—he asked me if I was brave?”
“No, I didn’t; I said game.”
“Well—if I was game to jump overboard at the same moment that he did? I quickly said yes. He twisted himself out of the man’s—”
“Baboon’s! baboon’s!”
“Well—baboon’s grasp, and went over the side like an eel, and—”
“And she,” interrupted Otto, “she went plump on the other side like a sack of potatoes, and we met under the canoe and dived well astern before coming up for breath. You know what pains you took with our swimming and diving, Dom; it helped us then, I can tell you; and so here we are, all alive and hearty. But I saw the black fellow goin’ to send a spear at Pina, and can’t think why he didn’t let fly. P’r’aps he did, and missed.”
“No, he didn’t; for Dr Marsh shot him in the arm,” said Dominick, “and thus saved Pauline’s life.”
“Three cheers for the Queen!” cried little Buxley, who had done good service at the oar, and whose little bosom was filled with enthusiasm at the recital of this adventure.
The invitation was heartily responded to.
“An’ wan more for the doctor!” shouted Malone.
In this rejoicing frame of mind they returned to Big Island, where Pauline was received with a warm embrace by the widow Lynch, who had been dancing about the settlement in a more or less deranged state ever since the boat left.
That same evening two meetings of considerable importance took place in the palace. The first was a cabinet council in the hall; the other a meeting of conspirators in the back-kitchen. Both were brief, for each was interrupted. We will take the cabinet council first.
The ministers present at it were the premier, Dominick and Dr Marsh, both of whom Joe had called to his aid.
“Now, my dear queen,” said the premier, “we have met to consider the constitution; but before saying a word about it myself, I would like to hear what your majesty has to say about it.”
“I’m not sure,” said the queen gravely, “that I have the faintest notion as to how a constitution should begin or end. But I will give you a motto to set in the forefront of our constitution, which may also form the foundation on which it is to be built—the pattern to which its parts must conform. It is this: ‘Whatsoever ye would that men should do to you, do ye even so to them.’”
“I will set that down with pleasure,” said Dominick, who acted as clerk, but, before he could write a line, a knock at the door interrupted them. Then the door opened, and Otto’s head appeared with eagerness in the eyes, and a beckoning hand in advance.
Dominick rose and went out.
“I’ve just overheard Morris and Jabez in the back-kitchen making an appointment. Shall I tell our squad to be ready?”
“Where is the appointed place?” asked Dominick.
“On the reef. They start this very night, for the wind suits, and I heard Hugh say that all was ready.”
“Good! I didn’t think the game was so nearly played out. Well for us that we are prepared. Yes, call up the squad. We’ll give them checkmate to-night.”
It must be explained here that ever since the night of the discovery of the plot organised by Morris to seize and carry off the wrecked ship, Otto and his brother had kept a close watch on the men, and were aware of all their plans and intended movements. They had also communicated their knowledge to a select few, whom Otto styled the squad, who had pledged themselves to be ready at a moment’s notice to do their best to circumvent the conspirators. Among other things Otto had discovered that Malines had agreed to join them, professing himself quite willing to act as second in command under Morris.
It may also be explained that though we have hitherto spoken of the vessel which had been cast on the reef as a wreck, it was in reality very slightly injured about the hull, and much of the damage done to the spars and rigging had been quietly repaired by the conspirators.
When darkness shrouded land and sea, two expeditions started from the settlement that night—one following the other. The conspirators in the largest boat set off first. As it was no unusual thing for a night expedition to the reef in order to transport supplies from the wreck in the morning, the departure of the large boat attracted little notice.
When it had got well away a smaller boat set off, containing the “squad,” which numbered among its members Dominick, the doctor, Otto, Joe, and his brother David, Teddy Malone, little Buxley, John Nobbs the blacksmith, and others, all of whom were armed with revolvers.
They steered for a different part of the reef, so as to avoid being seen by the conspirators. On landing they passed through the old burial-ground and made for the Golden Cave. This place had, since the settlement on Big Island, been given over entirely to Pauline’s use, and being styled the Queen’s seaside palace, no one ever thought of entering it without permission. Hence the party of observation knew that it would be a secure place of ambush.
When safe inside, Dominick and Otto were deputed to go out as quietly as possible, note what Morris and his men were doing, and bring back a report.
“For,” said the doctor, “if we interrupt them too soon they may pretend that this is one of their ordinary visits to the ship for supplies, and if we are too late they may get clear away in spite of us. We must strike when the iron is hot.”
“Yes,” said Otto, looking back as he followed his brother, “we’ll look well to the heating process and let you know when they’re white hot, so have your revolvers ready, my braves!”
“Och! shut your tatie-trap,” cried Malone, but Otto, having shut the door, lost the advice.
The night was neither decidedly light nor dark. There might, indeed, to have been moonlight, but clouds veiled the light though they could not altogether obscure it; thus there was just enough to render objects dimly visible.
“All the better,” whispered Dominick, as they turned the point of rock that hid the wreck from view. “We’ll go down by the thicket. Keep close to my heels, boy, and drop on your hands and knees when you see me do so.”
“All right, captain.”
Gliding cautiously down in the direction indicated, they came at length to the seaward edge of the thicket, where the bushes, being less dense, permitted them to partially see the wreck. Here Dominick went on all-fours, appearing, as he crept slowly forward, like some sort of huge bear with no tail, and its hind feet turned the wrong way. Otto followed like a little bear with similar undignified peculiarities. Having advanced far enough to obtain a clear view of the wreck, the spies sank into the grass and crept forward a little way. Then they lay still a few moments and listened. They then raised their heads cautiously and looked. What they heard and saw puzzled them not a little.
First, they noted that the wreck did not seem to lie in the position with which they had been so long familiar. Then, as their eyes became accustomed to the faint light, they observed that a small boat was moving busily about the vessel’s bow, and that a group of dark scarce-distinguishable forms of men was standing on the shore. Presently there was heard a low, yet not unfamiliar growl. This was followed by a high yet not unfamiliar shriek, accompanied by a grating sound.
“Lions and cockatoos!” whispered Otto, who had crept up alongside of his brother by that time, “what can they be about?”
“Is that a line I see athwart the sky?” asked Dominick, “look—just between the wreck and the big ledge there.”
Said Otto, “It’s more than a line. I see it. Half a dozen lines at least, and something like a round lump in the middle of ’em. Don’t you see it?—against the sky like a black moon—”
“Hush! boy—the growl again!”
“Ay, man, also the cockatoo.”
“Oh! I have it now,” whispered Dominick, with a low laugh; “they’ve rove blocks and tackle from the ship to the rocks, and are working them softly. Evildoers fear to be overheard, even when there’s no chance of being so! Your lion, Otto, is the subdued yo-heave-ho of the men.”
“I see,” said Otto, with a grin so broad that his white teeth glistened even in the dark, “and my cockatoo is the unsubdued screeching of the block-sheaves! They must be trying to get the ship off the reef.”
A heavy plunge at that moment told that the conspirators were not only trying but had succeeded, for the plunge was followed by an irresistible though powerfully suppressed cheer.
“We have not a moment to lose, Otto,” whispered Dominick. “The ship is free, and they will only take time to carry the tackle aboard before embarking. Do you run back and bring the squad down at the double. I will keep our friends here in play till they come.”
Not a word did Otto reply. He had acquired that first of requisites in a soldier or servant—the habit of prompt obedience. Somewhat like a North American savage, he sank into the grass and wriggled from the scene. A few moments later Dominick rose, and walked down towards the conspirators with the easy off-hand manner of a man who saunters forth to enjoy the night air. So busy were they getting the tackle into the boat that he was not observed until quite close to them.
“You seem busy to-night, friends,” he said, in his usual pleasant tones, as he took his stand close beside Hugh Morris, who was near the bow of the boat.
“Mr Rigonda!” exclaimed Malines in great surprise, coming forward at the moment.
“Why are you surprised? It is not unusual for me to take a row on a fine night.”
This reply seeming to imply that Dominick had come to the reef alone—perhaps in the dinghy—emboldened the men; some of them laughed.
“Well, I confess to being a little surprised, sir,” replied the mate, “for it so happened that we were preparing something in the nature of a surprise for you and the rest of the settlers.”
“Yes, I see,” returned Dominick, in the same pleasant tone. “You’ve managed to get the ship off the ledge in a very creditable manner, and you mean to take her into the lagoon and cast anchor off the settlement?”
Again the men laughed lightly.
“No, sir, we don’t,” broke in Hugh Morris at this point, “we intend to take her in quite the opposite direction, and clear off to sea with her.”
“Oh no, you don’t, Hugh,” returned Dominick, with an agreeable smile, which was a little perplexing as well as exasperating. “You are going into the lagoon; you know you are, and I have come to help you.”
“But I say we are not!” retorted Morris, in rising wrath, “and what’s more, you’ll have to go along with us, now that you’ve had the ill-luck to fall in with us.”
“Quite right, Hugh; didn’t I say that I came off on purpose to go along with you?”
As he spoke there was heard a rushing sound of feet and a number of dark forms were seen approaching from the bushes.
“Betrayed!” shouted Malines. “Jump in, lads, and shove off!”
He sprang forward, but was instantly arrested by the muzzle of a revolver within a foot of his head.
“It’s of no use, boys,” said Dominick, laying his hand on the bow of the boat. “You’ll have to enter it as dead men if you do so without my permission.”
Had the men been armed it might have gone hard with Dominick at that moment, but so sure had they been of accomplishing their purpose unmolested, that the idea of arming had never crossed their minds. Before they could recover from the surprise or decide what to do, the armed squad was upon them.
“Halt! boys,” cried Joe Binney, when close to the boat. “Now, look ’ee here. It warn’t o’ my seekin’ that I was made prime minister, but now that it’s bin done I’ll stick to it an’ do my duty. If ye knock under like good boys I’ll recommend ye to the queen’s marcy. If not I’ll have ’ee strung up, every man jack of ’ee. Moreover, the first man as disobeys my orders I’ll blow his brains out. Now, jump aboard, boys (turning to his own men), an’ keep your revolvers handy. You lads as wanted to run away will follow.”
The mixture of humour and resolution in Joe’s manner, coupled with his well-known decision of character and his commanding size, had its effect. The squad instantly jumped into the boat, and the conspirators meekly followed without a word. They saw—as Hugh afterwards expressed it—that the game was up, and made up their minds to submit to the inevitable.
The conspirators were ordered to take the oars. Afterwards they were made to work the ship round into the channel leading to the lagoon, while their armed friends mounted guard over them.
It was daybreak when the ship sailed calmly over the lagoon towards Silver Bay.
“Och! man,” said Teddy Malone, in a low voice, to Jabez Jenkins, who stood near him, “why did ye want to run away wid the owld ship? It wor a sneakin’ sort o’ thing, warn’t it, seein’ that the poor little childers an’ the women depind so much on what’s inside of her?”
“To tell ’ee the truth, Teddy,” replied the man, an improved expression coming suddenly over his face, “I ain’t sorry that we’ve bin stopped in this business, and, wot’s more, I believe that most of us ain’t sorry. We was more than half led into it, d’ee see, by lies as to what the leaders was goin’ to do, an’ arterwards we didn’t like to draw back.”
“I’m sorry for yez,” returned Malone, “for I’m afeared we’ll have to skrag the wan half of ye to keep the other half in order. In a spik an’ span noo settlement, where ivvery wan thinks he may do as he likes, the laws has to be pritty stiff. We’ve wan comfort, howivver—the quane is marciful.”
The Irishman was right in both his views on this subject, as the sequel will show.
Great was the surprise and joy among the settlers that morning when the fine ship in which they had traversed the ocean sailed grandly over the lagoon, and let go her anchor in Silver Bay. Some viewed her as a means of continuing the voyage and escaping from a secluded life of which they were beginning to tire. Others thought of her as a means of reopening intercourse with home, while not a few thought only of the convenience of having her and her useful cargo so near to them.
But great was their surprise when Malines, Morris, Jabez, and the rest of them were landed with their hands bound behind their backs; and still greater was that surprise when, in open court, that is, in the midst of the entire colony in the open air, these men were charged with their crime.
A regular criminal court was instituted on the spot, as regular, at least, as was possible, considering the almost total ignorance of all concerned in regard to matters of law. Queen Pauline appointed Dr Marsh to be judge, he being supposed to be the best acquainted with, or least ignorant of, legal matters and forms. A jury of twelve men were selected by lot, and little Buxley was appointed public prosecutor. In justice to the prisoners it was thought that they ought to have an advocate to defend them, but as no one would undertake the duty, that also was settled by lot, and the lot fell upon Redding, who, being a gentle and meek man, was perhaps best suited for it.
We may not go into the details of this celebrated trial, which lasted the greater part of the day, and was watched with intense eagerness by the entire population, including some of the older children, who had become impressed with the delightfully-horrible idea that a hanging or shooting, if not flaying and roasting, of some of the criminals would be the certain result. Suffice it to say that there was grievous irregularity in the proceedings: the public prosecutor not only proved the guilt of the men, but in the fervour of his indignation suggested the nature of their punishment; the jury not only listened to the facts of the case, but commented on them freely throughout, and, usurping the judge’s office, pronounced sentence on the criminals three or four times over; while the judge himself had the greatest possible difficulty in keeping anything like order all round.
The only man who performed his duty calmly was Redding, who, in a speech that quite surprised and transfixed the hearers, sought to point out that the men on trial had not actually committed the crime with which they had been charged, that of seizing the ship, but had only contemplated it, as had been alleged, though even that had not been clearly proved; that, supposing the crime to have been committed, it was a first offence, and that justice should always be tempered with mercy, as was taught in that best of all law-books, the Bible.
The pleading of this man had considerable effect, but it could not turn the tide of feeling in favour of the principal prisoners for more than one reason. They had been domineering, turbulent fellows all along; they had meditated a crime which would have robbed the settlers of many of the necessaries and all the luxuries of life, and this displayed a meanness of spirit which, they thought, deserved severe punishment.
Accordingly, after they had been pronounced guilty by the unanimous voice of the jury, and after the judge had consulted earnestly with some members of the privy council, Malines and Morris were condemned to a fortnight’s imprisonment on short allowance of the poorest food, and the other criminals to the same for a week.
When Malines had been seized and bound on board the ship, he had submitted, partly from prudence, and partly from a belief that the whole affair was a sort of half joke but when he found himself rebound, after the trial, and cast with his companions into a solid wooden building with a strong door and no window, which had been erected as a sort of fortress in which to put the women and children in case of attack by the savages, and there provided with maize and water for food and straw for bed, he began to realise the fact that he had indeed fallen into the hands of resolute men and under the power of law.
“I wouldn’t mind it so much if they’d only not cut off our baccy,” he groaned, on the afternoon of the following day, after a prolonged fit of sullen silence.
“After all it sarves us right,” growled Hugh Morris.
“Speak for yourself,” said Jabez Jenkins sulkily.
“That’s just what I do,” retorted Hugh.
“Hear, hear!” from some of the others.
What this conversation might have grown to no one can tell, for it was interrupted by the opening of the prison door and the entrance of a party of armed men.
“I am directed,” said Otto, who was in command of the party, “to bring you fellows before the queen, so, come along.”
Half amused by and half contemptuous of the leader, who gave his orders as if he were a powerful giant, the prisoners rose and marched out.
While this scene was taking place in the jail, the widow Lynch was holding a private interview with the queen in the palace.
