Kitabı oku: «Harry Milvaine: or, The Wanderings of a Wayward Boy», sayfa 7
Book Two – Chapter Five.
The Surgeon’s Yarn
“You must know, then,” said Dr Scott, “that though I do not vouch for the absolute truth of this story, the reason is that I was not myself one of the actors therein. But I have it on what I call indisputable authority, for old Brackenbury, who is the principal hero, told it to me one evening in his little place down in sunny Devonshire. And I do not believe that Brackenbury ever told an untrue tale in his life.
“A funny old fellow was Brackenbury, and it seemed to me that he must always have been old – must have been born old. He wasn’t a handsome man, nor had he a pretty face; his nearest and dearest wouldn’t have said he had. Yet, gentlemen, it is truly wonderful what a change for the better the play of a good-natured smile throws over even the plainest countenance. And Brackenbury used to smile from his very heart. Then he had such honest, truthful eyes that you couldn’t have helped liking the man.
“But to my tale, as Burns says.
“Goodness knows how long ago it is, but Brackenbury was then about in his prime, and commanded a fine vessel, that, after discharging a mixed cargo at Sydney, was ordered on a kind of a mixed cruise round to San Francisco, which was only a small village then, but had the gold fever rampant. Here he had to take on board specie, with a gentleman as supercargo. They were then to slip southwards along the western shores of South America, calling at Callao for goods from Lima, and so onwards round the Horn and home.
“I don’t think that Brackenbury and the supercargo, Mr O’Brady, liked each other over much. There was a natural jealousy between them. Brackenbury looked upon O’Brady as a kind of spy on his actions, and O’Brady didn’t like Brackenbury’s airs, as he was pleased to call them.
“Never mind, they were shipmates and messmates, and they settled down together as well as they could.
“Lima was in those days a hot place, socially speaking, but Brackenbury and his supercargo found themselves most hospitably treated. There was one tall, dark, handsome gentleman, called Pedro Dolosa, whom they frequently met at dinner-parties, who used to smoke much with them and hob-nob in the cool verandahs after dessert. He took to them very much apparently, and they were both flattered by his attention, for was he not a count, Le Comte Pedro de Dolosa? That was his tally complete.
“Brackenbury opened his heart to him; O’Brady was jealous, and opened his heart still more wide to Le Comte Pedro de Dolosa; and these two old fools did what they had no right to do – they told this strange count what their cargo was.
“However, the Adelaide left Callao at last, and after encountering a gale that blew them a long way out of their course, they lost their reckoning; but one day they found themselves pretty close to the shore again, and, the weather being now fine, they managed to find out their whereabouts.
“They were south the line, and on a lovely coast.
“‘I move,’ said Brackenbury, ‘that we enjoy ourselves a bit; I’m fond of shooting and botany.’
“‘So am I,’ replied O’Brady.
“Now more than once they had seen a very pretty little yacht careering about, as if watching them, but they had no suspicion of anything like foul play.
“It was seen again and again after this, but when one day it stood away in through an island-bound creek —
“‘I’ll bet a penny,’ said Brackenbury, ‘that that is some English lord out on the sport; what’s sauce for the goose is sauce for the gander, let’s follow him.’
“‘Agreed,’ said O’Brady.
“And so they did.
“They soon found themselves in an unusually romantic spot. A little bay it was, with a native village at the head of it, which looked imposing as seen from the sea. Then there was a beautiful river meandering down through a well-wooded, rolling valley, and far inland were hills and mountains.
“The yacht lay there at anchor, but she had hoisted Spanish colours. Next morning at breakfast —
“‘I feel unusually young this morning,’ said Brackenbury.
“‘So do I,’ replied O’Brady. ‘It’s the air, I suppose, but I do feel as gay as a lark.’
“‘Suppose we have a little lark, then, all by ourselves up in this valley – eh? What say? A kind of private picnic?’
“‘Is it safe?’
“‘Yes, safe as anything. We’ll take a few blue-jackets with us and a big hamper.’
“‘Well, I’m with you,’ said O’Brady, briskly.
“The spot looked so sweetly peaceful. Who could ever have dreamed that danger lurked in those lovely woods? The whole scene was more like one in our own delightful Devonshire than in the wilds of South America.
“Nor had the usual crowd of boats surrounded the vessel, and when the gig from the Adelaide landed the supercargo and captain, so well clad were the natives, and so peaceful did they seem, that Brackenbury felt half inclined to apologise to them for his armed escort.
“Two padres met them and saluted, and when told the errand that had brought them on shore, at once agreed to escort them to the head of the valley, where, the padres assured their illustrious visitors, there was the finest scenery in the world. This interpreter was a tall Chilian, a by-no-means prepossessing fellow either. He was enveloped in a kind of blanket cloak, carried a pole in his hand, and wore a broad, peak-crowned sombrero of very greasy straw. His pointed beard and long black locks were greasy also. In fact he was altogether grim and greasy, and his speech was too oily to be pleasant.
“The coach that the padres had provided was apparently about a hundred years old, but the four horses attached to it seemed fit for anything.
“They took their seats at last, the padres crowded in beside them, and the great hamper was put up on top, the Chilian interpreter sat down beside the driver, and away they rumbled and rattled.
“Rumbled? Yes, rumbled; that is the exact word. Brackenbury and O’Brady had never got such a shaking and jolting before. But the higher up the valley the coach went, the grander grew the scenery. Every now and then at a turn of the road, away beneath them they caught glimpses of the green glen basking in the summer sunshine, the river gliding through it like a silver thread, falling at last into the bright blue bay, where lay the ship with its little white boats floating peacefully astern.
“But the scene grew wilder still, and oh! what a wealth of woodland beauty was all around them, covering the tops of the round hills, climbing halfway up the sides of precipitous mountains, clinging over cliffs and waterfalls, and fringing lovely lakes, the water of which was so pellucid that the sandy bottom was seen yards and yards from the shore.
“Anon the coach would plunge into a wood of pines and mimosa, draped in the most gorgeous of creeping flowers, while down beneath lovely snow-white heather showed in charming contrast to the mantle of scarlet and green, that half hid the sun from them.
“It was well into the afternoon before the coach drew up at the ruins of an ancient monastery, and our pleasure-seekers descended. Close by was a splendid waterfall; it came foaming down from a precipice in a gorge, and descended past them into a gloomy pool that looked dark as midnight, so far beneath was it.
“But the thunders of the falling cataract shook the ground on which the two sailors stood gazing almost awestruck. Far beneath was a forest glen that bore terrible evidence to the fury of a recent storm.
“And now the lunch was spread on the green grass, and the padres waxed quite merry over it. O’Brady had never seen priests drink wine before, as these fellows did, and he now began to entertain a suspicion that they were not quite what they pretended to be. He could not now help wondering at their own folly in trusting themselves so far inland without having brought the blue-jackets to protect them.
“‘Why,’ said Brackenbury, starting up at last, ‘the sun is almost setting. We must be going. Where are the horses?’
“‘The horses,’ cried the Chilian, suddenly showing a pistol, ‘are round the corner, and our way now lies up the valley.’
“Both Brackenbury and O’Brady attempted to draw revolvers, but were immediately surrounded and disarmed by a crowd of cut-throat Chilians, who sprang from a neighbouring thicket.
“‘What means this indignity?’ shouted Brackenbury, purple with rage.
“‘It means, gentlemen,’ said the Chilian, ‘dat you are now de preesoners of Le Comte Pedro de Dolosa.’
“‘Pedro de Dolosa!’ cried O’Brady, aghast. ‘Curses on our folly! we are ruined men! This count is a bandit.’
“‘Your master shall live to rue this outrage!’ cried Brackenbury, as he and his companion, with cords around their wrists, were dragged away and thrust into the carriage.
“Their companions, the two sham padres, had now quite altered in their bearing towards their prisoners. They talked and laughed with each other, and although neither Brackenbury nor O’Brady knew the exact meaning of the words, their looks and smiles of derision were easily enough translated.
“At sunset the carriage stopped, and the villainous-looking interpreter informed the two officers that they were already in bed, and must remain there all night.
“So they made the best of a bad job and slumbered away in their respective corners till daylight. If ever during the night any thought of escape rose in their minds, one glance out at the carriage windows, where the vigilant and fierce-looking armed sentries stood statue-like in the starlight, was enough to banish it.
“The journey was resumed at daybreak, and continued without intermission until they arrived at this very place. Here the carriage was stopped, and they were ordered to descend.
“Standing like an equestrian statue at the edge of the forest was a tall, dark, armed man on horseback. As soon as the officers alighted he rode forward, and, taking off his sombrero, bowed until his face almost touched his splendid horse’s mane.
“The face was Dolosa’s.
“‘Is it really yourself, then, you robber chief?’ cried the bold captain of the Adelaide.
“‘It is I,’ was the answer – ‘Le Comte Pedro de Dolosa. But let me advise you to study civility while in my power. We know not the meaning of the term robber chief. Beware how you provoke me!’
“All the horses were now taken out of the carriage, except one. This was blindfolded and led to the very brink of the terrible precipice. Then a shout was raised, the whip descended with force across the poor doomed animals’ flanks, they made a plunge forward, and next moment carriage and all had disappeared.
“Dolosa turned laughingly round to his prisoners.
“‘Now, gentlemen,’ he said, ‘you see what has happened; I’m sorry to inform you, you will have to walk all the rest of the way to my little cottage among the mountains. Good-bye, my men will see you safe.’
“And away rode the robber chief.
“‘What does the destruction of the carriage mean, I wonder?’ said O’Brady.
“‘Without doubt,’ replied Brackenbury, ‘it is to put our fellows off the scent.’
“Brackenbury was right for once in his lifetime.
“The march inland was soon resumed by the officers and their captors. A little distance farther on and the road ended in a series of narrow footpaths, like the tracks of deer or other wild animals. These led in different directions into the forest, and one was chosen by the leader of the band. They walked in single file, and care was apparently taken to destroy all trail.
“All that day the journey was continued, through jungle and forest, across streams, and up through dreary glens, till, as night fell, they found themselves at the gate of an ancient wall. It was opened to admit them, and immediately re-closed with a ponderous bang.
“In a quarter of an hour afterwards they were issued into a kind of armoury, and thence into a lofty and well-lighted supper-room.
“Tired and weary from wandering in forest wilds, here had they arrived, and suddenly found themselves plunged into the very midst of luxury of every imaginable kind. A room with gilded cornices and hand-painted roof, carpets soft as cushions, furniture as chaste and refined as modern art could produce, servants in livery to wait on them, and a supper-table laid out with viands the most tempting, and wines from every part of the world.
“They fell to like wise and hungry men, and did justice to the good things set before them.
“They supped alone, the count never appeared.
“After a few hours a servant came to conduct them to their bed-chamber, and they followed him in silence.
“The servant was as silent as they were.
“He showed them the room, pointed to the beds, and left them in the dark.
“This wasn’t pleasant, nor was it pleasant to hear the key turned in the door.
“But there was no help for it.”
Book Two – Chapter Six.
The Surgeon’s Yarn Continued – The Pleasant Home of a Robber chief – Face to Face with Death
“The poet Daniel calls sleep ‘son of the sable night,’ and brother to Death.
“‘Care charmer sleep, son of the sable night,
Brother to Death, in silent darkness born.’
“I might add that sleep is also the brother to sorrow and care, and a kind and gentle brother he is.
“No sooner had Captain Brackenbury and his supercargo, O’Brady, been shown to their apartment on that memorable night, and left in the dark, than —
“‘Well, Brackenbury,’ said O’Brady, ‘here’s a nice wind-up to a windy day. But I vote we make the best of a bad job. I’m dog-tired and as sleepy as an old owl. I’m going to turn in, even if I have to turn out in the morning to get my head taken off.’
“‘So shall I,’ replied Brackenbury. ‘But what an uncivil brute of a black servant that is! Why, he might as well have left the light!’
“‘No doubt he’s acting according to orders, my friend,’ said O’Brady. ‘And duty is duty, of course, on board a ship or out of it.’
“‘Oh yes,’ Brackenbury acquiesced, ‘duty is duty, as you say. But can you find the head of your bed?’
“‘Yes, mine is towards the fireplace, and yours is towards the door.’
“‘Good-night,’ said Brackenbury.
“‘Umph!’ grunted O’Brady, for he was all but asleep already.
“‘Hark!’ cried Brackenbury, a few minutes after. ‘Are you asleep, O’Brady?’
“‘No, I’m listening. Hush!’
“Had anyone come into the apartment with a light just then, they would have seen both men sitting bolt upright in bed, with not only their eyes, but even their mouths open.
“‘I heard footsteps in the passage,’ hissed Brackenbury; ‘they surely can’t be going to hang us to-night!’
“His voice was somewhat shaky.
“‘Hang us! no! Nonsense, Brackenbury! Dolosa knows much better than to hang us. You’re not afraid, are you?’
“‘Hark!’ was the reply; ‘but now I heard a whisper. It seems in the room. Sure you locked the door? You see, O’Brady, that with a sword in my hand, in daylight, and with my foot on my own quarter-deck, I’m fit for anything. But I’m not a rat, jigger me if I am. I believe Dolosa would do anything. Now those monster niggers of his, what would hinder half a dozen of them from smothering us, time about, with a feather-bed? Ugh! fancy a feather-bed on top of you, and half a dozen hulking black murderers on top o’ that. Ugh, I say!’
“The sound of whispering and of footsteps had ceased, but both officers still sat up, straining their ears.
“O’Brady laughed low. ‘Bedad, Brackenbury, it wouldn’t take half a dozen hulking niggers to cook your goose. I guess two would do it, bedad, I do; Honolulu!’ The last word was almost shrieked.
“‘Goodness be near us!’ cried Brackenbury, now fairly chattering with fear. ‘What is the matter, my friend?’
“‘My hand,’ replied O’Brady, ‘was lying over the edge of the bed, and a cold nose touched it. Egad! Brackenbury, it did give me the shivers!’
“‘Hullo!’ cried Brackenbury next. ‘What’s this? Murder! Police! Guard! Fire!’ he roared.
“Then Captain Brackenbury became suddenly quiet.
“‘What is it at all, at all? Speak, friend, speak! Are the niggers killing you? Have they smothered you alive? Are you dead entirely? Speak, then!’
“But his friend did not answer immediately; when he did reply, O’Brady was more puzzled than ever, and would have given a whole month’s pay for a farthing box of matches, or half a second’s light from a purser’s dip, just to see what his companion in darkness and misery was about.
“‘My pretty darling, then,’ Brackenbury was saying, in a fond and wheedling voice. ‘Come into my arms, then, you cosy-mosy little pet. Now, now then, now then, now!’
“‘Brackenbury,’ cried O’Brady, ‘what are you saying? Is it leave of your seven senses you’re taking? Have the trials of the day been too much for you? Or is it asleep and dreaming you are?’
“‘Ha! ha! ha!’ laughed the captain. ‘’Pon my soul, O’Brady, I’m astonished at you, being afraid of a mongoose. Ha! ha! ha!’
“‘A mongoose! eh? What? Who’s afraid?’ spluttered O’Brady.
“‘Yes, a mongoose! That was the cold nose you felt. It jumped on top of my bed, it is now nestling round my neck. Darling, then, pretty pet!’
“‘Very well explained,’ said the old captain, ‘very well indeed. Quite accounts for the milk in the cocoanut. Good-night – good-night!’
“Both awoke at the same moment next morning, sat up in their beds – facing each other – and rubbed their eyes. They gave one glance up at the tall window, through which the sunlight was streaming in many-coloured rays, then rubbed their eyes, then looked at each other again.
“‘I couldn’t make out where I was for a moment,’ said O’Brady.
“‘Nor I,’ replied Brackenbury.
“There was a knock at the door.
“‘Can I come in, geentlemans?’ said a voice with a strong foreign accent.
“‘Pull the latch,’ said O’Brady, seeing that his companion hesitated.
“Brackenbury did as told, and a servant glided into the room, a dark little pale-faced Portuguese.
“‘I bring you de water for shave,’ he said, mildly. ‘Also de navája, what you call it, de knife for rasp. Shall I rasp you?’
“‘Thanks, no,’ said both; ‘we will prefer to rasp ourselves.’
“‘Vell den, geentlemans, I have also for you de complimentes of de great Count de Dolosa, and he will be mooch please to see you at breekwust. In one leetle half-hour de gong veel soun’, den I come again and conduct you to de breekwust-room.’
“‘By the way,’ cried Brackenbury, as the polite little man was about to leave, ‘what is your name?’
“‘Name, señor? si señor, my name ees Marco.’
“‘Here’s an odd half-sovereign I’ve got no use for, Marco.’
“‘Gracias!’ muttered Marco, slipping the coin into his waistcoat pocket.
“‘Now, Marco,’ continued Brackenbury, ‘you’re a kind-hearted sort of a chap, I know.’
“‘Si, señor, hombre de chapa.’ (man of sense.)
“‘Yes; well, have you heard anything about us? No preparations to hang us, or anything of that sort, is there, Marco?’
“Marco came in again, and quietly closed the door. Then he listened a moment.
“‘See, geentlemans,’ he said, ‘I veel not tell a false-dad. You veel die– perhaps. Perhaps you veel not.’
“‘Well,’ grunted O’Brady, ‘we could have guessed as much. Thank you for nothing. Give him another yellow boy, Brackenbury, I’ll pay you some day – perhaps.’
“The additional coin made Marco smile.
“‘Now,’ he said, ‘I tell you all de trut’. De trut’ is dis: you veel not die for two tree week. Suppose your people pay plenty libertad monies for you, den you not die at all. Suppose dey not veel pay de plenty mooch libertad monies, and suppose, instead, de coome and fight here, den you die ver’ quick indeed.’
“‘Thank you, thank you!’ cried O’Brady. ‘Give him one more yellow boy, Brackenbury.’
“‘Dash my buttons, sir,’ said Brackenbury, ‘how free you can make with other people’s cash, O’Brady!’
“Marco retired, smiling sweetly on his third yellow boy, and the two officers began to think of getting up.
“‘Ahem!’ said Brackenbury.
“‘What?’ said O’Brady.
“‘I’m a little shy,’ said Brackenbury, ‘in dressing in the same apartment with any one else. Ahem! did you ever know, O’Brady, that I wore a wig?’
“‘No,’ grunted O’Brady. ‘’Pon my soul, you’re as shy as a girl, Brackenbury. I ain’t shy. Now look here, did it ever strike you that I had a glass eye?’
“‘Well, no – ahem! – I’ve noticed, though, that you squinted a bit. Fact is, to put it straight, I’ve observed you looking very steadily at the main-truck with one eye, and apparently looking at the compass with the other. Ha! ha! ha!’
“‘Well, what does it matter?’ said O’Brady. ‘I’m going on for sixty years of age, man.’
“‘And I,’ said Brackenbury, ‘am precious near fifty – ’
“‘Just on the other side o’ the hedge, eh? Ha! ha! You gay young dog. Look here!’ he continued, ‘perhaps you wouldn’t believe it, but I have a cork leg!’
“‘Well,’ cried Brackenbury, springing out of bed and preparing to shave, ‘I’m glad we’ve both made a clean breast of it.’
“They both laughed hearty now; fact is, they felt lighter in spirits since Marco told them there was no immediate cause for apprehension.
“And Brackenbury pulled out his false teeth, and O’Brady pulled out his, and Brackenbury threw his wig on the top of his bed, and appeared in all the beauty of his baldness, while O’Brady laid his glass eye on the table, and brandished his cork leg by way of showing the captain what he could do with it.
“Silly old fogies, weren’t they? But by the time the gong went roaring and clanging through the halls they were both dressed and waiting for Marco.
“This individual glided silently on in front of them; for the carpets in the corridors were as soft as moss itself.
“‘Splendid mansion it looks in daylight, don’t it?’ whispered O’Brady. ‘What a noble corridor! Just look at those chandeliers, look at the stained windows, and those frescoes! Must have cost a power o’ money, eh?’
“‘Didn’t cost him much, I expect,’ muttered his friend. ‘You forget you’re not in a hotel, but in the house of a robber chief.’
“‘Hush, hush, hush! not so loud, please; every whisper is heard in this strange place.’
“Black servants or slaves, with white garments, squatted here and there in the hall, pulling punkah strings, and rolling chalk-white eyes at the two officers as they passed. They came at length to an immensely tall door. At each side of it stood a sentry, dressed in blue and scarlet – niggers both, savage-looking, armed to the teeth, and over six feet high.
“They each pulled back a curtain, and our friends found themselves in the breakfast-room.
“Three great windows looked out upon a noble park, in which were strange and beautiful trees, marble figures, miniature lakes, gushing fountains, and many a lovely bird and curious quadruped.
“Dressed in a crimson gown, the folds of which he grasped in one hand across his chest, the count himself advanced to meet them. He stopped halfway and bowed low.
“‘I hope my guests slept well?’ he said.
“The breakfast was eaten in silence almost. Afterwards —
“‘Gentlemen,’ said the count, ‘let us understand each other. You are my prisoners – ’
“‘Our time may come,’ interrupted Brackenbury.
“‘You are a bold man to talk thus. I have but to hold up a finger and you would be dragged hence and strangled. But you are my guests as well as prisoners. If ransomed you will leave this house unharmed. If not – ’
“‘You will kill us, eh?’
“Dolosa shrugged his shoulders.
“‘’Tis the fortune of war,’ he said.
“An hour or two after dinner on the same night Dolosa was lounging on the broad terrace along with his prisoner guests. A round moon was mirrored in a lake some distance beneath them, where antlered deer could be seen drinking; stars were shining in the sky, and on earth as well, for fireflies flitted refulgent from bush to bush.
“Hidden somewhere behind the foliage of an upper balcony was a string band that had been discoursing music of a strange, half-wild, but dreamy nature that accorded well with scene and time. The music had just died away, and there was nothing to be heard but an occasional plash in the lake, the hum of insects, and the steady hiss of the gushing fountains.
“‘’Pon my word,’ said Brackenbury, who had dined well, ‘you have a very nice little place here. Pity you’re such a rase – ’
“‘A what – eh?’ said Dolosa, quietly, interrupting him.
“‘A recluse, I mean.’
“Dolosa smiled, and resumed his cigar.
“‘I feel sure,’ continued Brackenbury, ‘that we will be ransomed, but if not you wouldn’t hang us, would you? Eh, Count? No, no; I’m sure you wouldn’t. You’re much too good a fellow for that.’
“Dolosa laughed.
“‘Oh, no!’ he replied, ‘of course not. You wouldn’t hang me at the yard-arm if you had me on the Adelaide, eh, captain? No, no; I’m sure you wouldn’t. You’re much too good a fellow for that.’
“‘Ah, my friends,’ he added, ‘business is business. Now if my fellows return from your ship to-morrow with an unsatisfactory answer, I shall cut off both your ears, captain, and send them; then your nose. That’s business. Have another cigar?’
“But poor Brackenbury was far too sick at heart to smoke any more.
“At bedtime that night two immensely tall negroes entered the room silently and stood waiting for orders.
“‘Why don’t you speak, eh?’ said Brackenbury.
“Both suddenly knelt in front of Brackenbury and opened great, red, cavernous mouths.
“‘Why,’ cried O’Brady, aghast, ‘never a tongue have they between the pair of them! Horrible! Shut your mouths, ye sturgeons! Here, put us to bed. We come all in pieces, you know. You’ll see.’
“And now Brackenbury pulled out his teeth. O’Brady did the same.
“The blackamoors looked scared.
“Then Brackenbury took off his wig and threw it on the bed.
“Both negroes glared at him.
“O’Brady quietly removed a glass eye and placed it on the table.
“The negroes edged towards the door.
“But it is the last straw that breaks the camel’s back. The last straw in this case was O’Brady’s cork leg. When he sat down and whipped that off, the blackamoors rushed headlong to the door and fled howling along the corridor.
“Then Marco came in, all smiles and politeness.
“‘They will neever, neever come again,’ said Marco, laughing, when Dolosa’s guests explained what had happened.
“Two mornings after this the crisis came, for Marco politely informed them that the first officer of the Adelaide had refused to hand over the specie to ransom his captain.
“‘So,’ said Marco, ‘one of you veel have de ears cut off dis morning. But neever mind, geentlemans, neever mind,’ he added, consolingly.
“Dolosa was as polite as if nothing were about to happen. It was a breakfast fit for a king, but, singular to say, neither Brackenbury nor O’Brady had the least bit of appetite. They felt sick at heart with the shadow of some coming evil.
“They retired soon after to their room, but hardly had they entered ere the urbane Marco glided in and tapped each on the shoulder.
“He pointed smilingly to his own ears with his two thumbs.
“‘De time is coome, geentlemans,’ he said; ‘but it is nodings, geentlemans. Neever mind, neever mind.’
“‘But I do mind,’ spluttered Brackenbury. ‘Confound it all, even if we don’t bleed to death right away, what will our wives say to us when we return to them with no more ears than an adder? I tell you, Marco, your master is a diabolical scoundrel.’
“‘Hush! hush! capitan,’ cried Marco. ‘Do not speak so. De walls have ears.’
“‘Yes, and I want to keep mine.’
“‘See, see,’ continued Marco, as two stalwart blacks opened the door and beckoned to the unfortunate prisoners.
“The courtyard into which they were led was a gloomy one indeed, surrounded by high bare walls on three sides, with a cliff on the other going sheer down to the river’s side black and dismal.
“Le Comte Pedro de Dolosa lifted his hat.
“‘So sorry to trouble you, gentlemen,’ he said, ‘but the case is urgent. Who comes first?’
“He pointed to the executioners as he spoke. They were the same negroes who had led them to the yard.
“Brackenbury confessed afterwards that he now felt as pale as death. It did not tend to restore his equanimity to observe one hulking negro heating an iron to redness in a charcoal stove. This he knew was to cauterise the awful wound after the ear had been severed.
“‘Who comes first?’ repeated the count, sharply.
“‘Captain Brackenbury, of course,’ said O’Brady. ‘He has the honour to be captain of the ship.’
“‘No, no, no!’ cried Brackenbury; ‘you first, O’Brady; honour be hanged, you’re ten years older than I. Age before honour any day.’
“‘Gentlemen,’ said Dolosa, ‘as you cannot agree, I will solve the difficulty. Captain Brackenbury, stand forw – ’
“He never finished the sentence.
“Such a yell suddenly rang through and around his mansion, accompanied by the clashing of swords and cracking of pistols. It was —
“‘As if men fought upon the earth,
And fiends in upper air.’
“‘Hurrah!’ cried Brackenbury. ‘Our ears are saved.’
“‘Off with them – quick,’ cried Dolosa, ‘to the dungeon, and garrote them both.’
“He pulled a pistol from his belt as he spoke and rushed away to join the melée.
“Meanwhile the black giants – not the two whom they had so frightened in their bedroom – hurried Brackenbury and O’Brady along a corridor.
“But little did they know the mettle that O’Brady was made of.
“All at once he stopped short. He quickly bent down, and, to the utter astonishment of his would-be executioners, he undid a leg.
“That leg, Brackenbury said, was a good old-fashioned one, and of considerable weight.
“Before the hulking negroes recovered their fright, one was felled to the ground.
“‘Poor old O’Brady,’ said Brackenbury, while telling the story, ‘tumbled on top of him, but I got the leg, and with it I quickly smashed the other. In less than a minute both were senseless, and we bound them hand and foot with the very cords they would have strangled us with.’
“Dolosa was shot, his house was fired, for the Adelaide’s men had come in time.
“In two weeks more Brackenbury told me the Adelaide had rounded the Horn, and was bearing merrily up for home, with a spanking breeze and stunsails set. For ships could sail in those days.”
Everybody thanked the doctor for his story, and now, as it was wearing late, as they had passed —
“The wee short hour ayout the twal.”
Good-nights were said, and hands were shaken, and in half an hour all but those on watch were sound asleep or dreaming of their far-off homes.
The southern stars were very bright; there was not a sound to be heard save the lapping of the waves at the ship’s side, the far-off beating of the eternal tom-toms, or the occasional shrill shriek of an Arab sentinel walking his rounds within the palace walls.
