From that night a complete change seemed to have come upon the home of Dutch Pugh. He had more than once determined upon putting an end to the Cuban’s stay, feeling at the same time as if he would like to end his life; but reason told him that his were, after all, but suspicions, and that perhaps they were unjust. Under the circumstances, he sought for relief in work, and strove night and day to perfect the arrangements which now fast approached completion. Captain Studwick was to be in command of the large yacht-like schooner that had been secured, and was being carefully fitted with the necessaries in stores and machinery. Two of the divers engaged in raising the copper had volunteered to go, and a capital crew had been selected. The cabins were comfortably furnished, there being plenty of space, and places were set apart for the captain’s son and daughter, while a gentleman friend – a naturalist – had, on learning from Captain Studwick the part of the world to which the ship was to sail, petitioned hard, and obtained permission to go.

This last gentleman said his object was to collect specimens of the wonderful birds of Central America; but the probabilities are that if he had not been aware that Bessy Studwick was to be of the party, he, being a very bad sailor, would have stayed at home.

By degrees everything necessary was put on board the handsome vessel, and though the ship’s destination was kept a secret, and the real object of her mission confided to few, she formed the general topic of conversation in the port, and plenty of exaggerations flew about.

The energetic way in which Dutch worked served to lull to a certain extent the sense of pain that he endured; but he suffered bitterly; and at last it had come to this: that he spent as little of his time at home as possible, returning there, however, at night faint and weary, but with a heart sickness that drove away the needful sleep.

It afforded him some gratification, though, to find that Miss Studwick often called at his home; and when, on more than one occasion, she came with her brother to the office, he read in her eyes the deep sympathy that she felt for him, and asked himself why he had not made this woman his wife.

He sat often quite late in the office, long after Rasp had grumblingly gone off with a final stoke at the fire, which afterwards sank and died out; and at such times, in the semi-darkness, with the goggle-eyed helmets seeming to stare at him and rejoice in his sufferings, he asked himself what he should do? Whether he should leave home for ever? Whether he should put her away from him, and wait till some time in the far-off distance of life when she might, perhaps, come to him, and ask his pardon for the wrong she had done.

“No!” he would exclaim, “I will not believe such evil of her. She is dazzled by this polished scoundrel, and poor, rough, I compare badly with him, for she cannot see our hearts.”

Should he end the matter at once?

No, he felt that he could not, for he had nothing but his bare, cruel suspicions to go upon, the greatest of which was that before long Hester would flee with this man, and his home would be wretched.

Wretched? If not wretched already, for all was wretched at home: Hester was low-spirited; for his own part, he rarely spoke; and the Cuban avoided him.

So far, Dutch had indulged in the hope that he might, after all, be deceiving himself, when one evening, on entering the little drawing-room suddenly, Hester started up, looking confused, and left the room, while the Cuban turned away with a short nod, and walked to the window.

From that hour every spare moment was devoted to watching: for the suspicion grew stronger now that before long, if he did not stay it, his home would be left desolate.

This lasted for some days, when the idea was checked by Lauré himself, who, as the time approached for the departure of the expedition, suddenly began to display great interest in the proceedings, so that Dutch felt compelled to own that his ideas of flight must be wrong; in fact, it was as if Lauré had divined his thoughts just as he was about to speak to Mr Parkley, and tell him his suspicions that the Cuban evidently meant to give up the expedition, and, much as it would tear his heart to speak, give the reasons for his belief.

Hardly, though, had he come to the conclusion that he was wrong, when a trifle set him off back in his former way of thinking, for his mind was now a chaos of wildering fancies, and the slightest thing set his jealous feelings in a blaze.

He would not speak to Hester; he would not take an open, manly way of seeing whether his suspicions were just; but, submitting his better parts to his distorted reason, he nursed his anguish, and so it fell out that one night he found himself watching his own house, in the full belief that his wife’s illness in the morning before he left for the office was a subterfuge, and that the time had come for her to take some step fatal to her future.

“But I will stop it,” muttered Dutch to himself, as with throbbing pulse and beating temples he avoided the gate, so as not to have his footsteps heard on the gravel, and, climbing the fence, entered his own garden like a thief.

He had hardly reached the little lawn when he heard the sound of wheels, and stepping behind a clump of laurels he stopped, listening with beating heart, for here was food for his suspicions.

As he expected, the fly stopped at the gate; a man in a cloak got out, went hastily up the path, knocked softly at the door, and was admitted on the instant.

Dutch paused, hesitating as to what he should do. Should he follow and enter? No, he decided that he would stay there, and stop them as they came out, for the fly was waiting.

Where would Hester be now? he asked himself, with the dimly-seen house seeming to swim before him; and the answer came as if hissed into his ear by some mocking fiend —

“In her bedroom, getting something for her flight.”

Half-a-dozen steps over the soft grass took him where he could see the window, and of course there was a light there, and then —

The blood seemed to rush to his brain, a horrible sense of choking came upon him, and he groaned as he staggered back, for there, plainly enough seen, was the figure of Hester, her hair hanging loose as she lay back over the arm of a man, who was half-leading, half-carrying her towards the door.

All this in shadow was sharply cost upon the blind, and with a groan of mingled rage and misery Dutch rushed towards the house, but only to totter and fall heavily, for it was as though a sharp blow had been dealt him, and for some time he lay there passive and ignorant of what passed around.

He recovered at length, and lay trying to think – to call to mind what this meant. Why was he lying there on the wet grass, with this strange deathly feeling of sickness upon him?

Then all came back with a rush, and he rose to his feet to see that the light was still in the bedroom, but the shadows were gone.

With a cry of horror he ran to the gate, but the carriage was not there, and he stood listening.

Yes, there was the sound of wheels dying away. No, they had stopped, and he was about to rush off in pursuit when a hasty step coming in his direction stayed him, for he knew it well, and, drawing back, he let the Cuban pass him, then followed him softly as he stole round the house, going on tiptoe towards the dining-room window, where Dutch caught him by the shoulder.

“Ah,” he said, laughing, “so our gallant Englishman is on the watch, is he? Does the jealous trembler think I would steal his wife?”

“Dog!” hissed Dutch, catching him by the throat, “what are you doing here?”

“What is that to you, fool!” exclaimed the Cuban, flashing into rage. “Loose me, you madman, or you shall repent it. Curse you, you are strong.”

Blind to everything but his maddening passion, kept back now for so many days, and absorbed by the feeling that he could now wreak his vengeance upon the man who had wrecked his home, Dutch savagely tightened his hold upon his adversary, who, though a strong man, bent like a reed before him. It was no time for reason to suggest that he might be wrong; the idea had possession of the young man’s soul that he was stopping an intended flight, and he drove the Cuban backwards, and had nearly forced him across a garden seat when Lauré, writhing like an eel, got partly free.

“Curse your English brute strength!” he muttered, and getting his arm from his cloak, he struck Dutch full on the temple with some weapon, and the young man fell once more prone on the grass.

Story 1-Chapter VIII.
Breaking the Contract

Five days had passed since the encounter in the garden, and Dutch Pugh had not been back to his home. He had lain for some time stunned from the blow he had received, and then risen half-dazed, and in a wretched, dejected way made for the town, where, letting himself into the office, he had thrown himself upon the floor, and slept heavily till morning, to the great surprise of the clerks, who found him there when they came.

With an intense desire to hide his anguish from everyone, he had given out that he had fallen asleep after being many hours at work, and no notice was taken of his soiled clothes. Then, with the truth gradually oozing out, that no flight had been intended, but that for some reason, so Mr Parkley said, Señor Lauré had gone back to his hotel, Dutch worked on, superintending till the vessel was ready for sea.

The stores and machinery were complete for the purpose, and the passengers were on board. Moreover, a brother of Mr Parkley had been invited to assist in the business during the chief partner’s absence, and together Mr Parkley and Dutch walked down to the dock.

“We had a sort of hint from Bessy Studwick that you haven’t been home for some days, Pugh,” said Mr Parkley.

“Don’t talk about it, please.”

“Well, I won’t much,” said Mr Parkley, “for I guess a great deal. It was all my fault, Dutch, my dear boy. I had no business to have proposed such a thing, and, believe me, if I had known what a scoundrel the fellow was, I would never have entered into this project with him.”

“Pray say no more,” exclaimed Dutch.

“I must, my dear boy, I must, for I want to clear myself. You see the preparation for this trip means five thousand pounds, and I cannot throw the matter over; the loss is too heavy, or else I would.”

“Oh, no, it is impossible,” exclaimed Dutch.

“If I had known my man sooner, I would have seen him at Hanover before I would have had anything to do with him. But look here, my dear Pugh, I couldn’t help hearing a great deal about your domestic trouble. Haven’t you been wronging the little woman?”

“If you have any respect or feeling for me, Mr Parkley, say no more.”

“All right, my dear fellow,” said the other, with a sigh, “I will not; only act like a sensible man in all things – home and business. Heigho, I really wish I was not going, but the idea of these hidden treasures sets me on fire.”

Mr Parkley forgot all his hesitation as they stepped on board and saw how – in spite of the bustle and confusion consequent upon receiving late supplies of fresh meat and vegetables – ship-shape and excellent were Captain Studwick’s arrangements. John Studwick was on board, seated upon a wicker chair, and his sister beside him; Mr Meldon, the young doctor, was leaning over the bulwarks, with a very tall, thin young man, the naturalist friend; the sailors were busy lowering bales and arranging coops and hens; and all was ready for the start – in fact, the dockmen were ready to warp the schooner out, and after a short run behind a tug down the harbour, they would have the open Channel before them.

There was a goodly concourse of people about the wharves, for the object of the schooner’s trip had somehow gained wind, and while some expressed interest and curiosity in the voyage, others laughingly called it a fool’s errand.

“Has anybody seen Señor Lorry?” said Mr Parkley at last.

“I had a note from him,” said Captain Studwick, “He said he would be down here punctually at twelve. Has his luggage come, Oakum?”

“None on it, sir,” said the rough old sailor, pulling his forelock.

“That’s strange,” said the captain. “When did you see him, Parkley?”

“Last night, and he said he would be aboard in the morning, and glad of it, for he was sick of England.”

“Twelve o’clock now,” said the captain. “Well, the tide serves; I must give the word for getting out of dock. He must have a longer row for being late. He’s sure to come, of course.”

“Oh, yes,” said Mr Parkley; but he glanced uneasily at Dutch, as if he did not feel sure.

“Ready there,” cried the captain. “Now, my lads, be handy – cast off those ropes for’ard. Oh, here he is. Hold hard there.”

“But where’s his luggage?” said Mr Parkley.

“Oh, behind the crowd,” said the captain. “Come along, sir, we were going without you.”

“Indeed!” said the Cuban, with a smile. “I doubt that. Where would you go?”

“Where Mr Parkley told me,” said the captain. “Give me the order. I’ll find the place. Let’s see, Mr Pugh, we are to send you back in the tug, I suppose.”

Dutch nodded.

“Now, then, for’ard there,” cried the captain; “be ready to cast off. Are you ready?”

“Ay, ay,” came in chorus from the smart, well-picked crew.

“Stop!” exclaimed Lauré in a loud voice, and, turning to Mr Parkley, he pointed to Dutch and said, “That is your partner, is it not, Mr Parkley?”

“Yes, certainly.”

“And he will share in the profits of this expedition?”

“Certainly he will, sir.”

“Then, sir, I break our engagement. I shall have nothing to do with the voyage. The matter is entirely off.”

“Confound it all, sir!” cried Mr Parkley, in a passion. “You can’t do that.”

“But, sir, I have done it,” said the Cuban, lighting a cigar.

“What! After I’ve spent all this money in preparation?”

“I have told you,” said the Cuban, contemptuously – and he gave a malignant glance at Dutch.

“Mr Parkley,” said Dutch, stepping forward, “my private quarrel with this man shall not stand in your way. All this preparation has been made for the expedition, and my being your partner shall not stop it. Sir, our partnership is at an end.”

“Is it?” said Mr Parkley, with his teeth set. “No, I’ll be hanged if it is;” and as the men gathered round, wondering at what they had heard, he laid his hand on Dutch Pugh’s shoulder. “I’ve proved you, my lad, but I’ve not proved this man, who at the first touch bends and nearly breaks. We are partners, and mean to stay so, and Mr Lorry here will have to keep to his bond, or I’ll soon see what the law says to him.”

The Cuban smiled contemptuously.

“Suppose I say it was all a mad dream, and I know of no such place: what then?”

“Why, you are a bigger scoundrel than I took you for.”

“Sir!” cried the Cuban, menacingly.

“Oh, you want to frighten me with your big looks, sir,” cried Mr Parkley. “Now then, I ask you in plain English, will you fulfil your undertaking, and show me the place where the old Spanish galleons are sunk?”

“No,” said the Cuban, coolly, “I will not help to enrich my enemy!” and he again looked indignantly at Dutch.

“Mr Parkley!” exclaimed the latter, “I cannot see all this costly enterprise ruined because of my private trouble with this villain.”

“Villain!” cried Lauré, confronting Dutch, whose face flushed and whose hands were half raised to seize his enemy.

“Be silent,” he said, in a low, hoarse voice, “I’ve that within me that I can hardly control. If you rouse it again, by the God who made me, I’ll strangle you and hurl you over the side.”

The Cuban involuntarily shrank from the menacing face before him, and Dutch by a strong effort turned to Mr Parkley.

“Make terms with him, sir. I will not stand in your way.”

“Yes, I’ll make terms with him,” exclaimed Mr Parkley, angrily. “Now, sir, I ask you again will you fulfil your contract?”

The Cuban half-closed his eyes, puffed forth a ring of smoke, and said quietly, —

“In my country, when one man strikes another the insult is washed out in blood. Your bold partner there has struck me, a weaker man than himself, and I cannot avenge the insult, for you cold islanders here boast of your courage, but you will not equalise the weak and strong by placing the sword, the knife, or the pistol in their hands. You say no; that is the law. You call in your police. Fools! cowards! do you think that will satisfy me?”

“Did Mr Pugh strike you, then?” said Mr Parkley.

“Yes, three cruel blows,” hissed the Cuban, with his face distorted with rage.

“Then you must have deserved it,” cried Mr Parkley.

“You think so,” said the Cuban, growing unnaturally calm again. “Then I say I must have satisfaction somehow. Your partner makes me his enemy, and you must suffer. I shall not fulfil my contract. I will not take you where the galleons lie. You have made your preparations. Good. You must suffer for it, even as I suffer. I give up one of the dreams of my life. I will not go.”

A pang shot through Dutch Pugh’s breast, for in this refusal to depart he saw an excuse to remain in England, and once more the hot blood rose to his face.

“You absolutely refuse, then, to show Captain Studwick and me where the objects we seek are hid?” said Mr Parkley, turning up his cuffs as if he meant to fight; and the Cuban’s hand went into his breast.

“I absolutely refuse,” said the Cuban, disdainfully.

“You know, I suppose, that you forfeit half the result,” said Mr Parkley.

“Yes,” said the Cuban, moving towards the gangway, “I know I lose half the result.”

“You know I have spent five thousand pounds in preparations,” said Mr Parkley, calmly.

“Yes,” sneered the Cuban, “and you have your law. Go to it for revenge; it may please you.”

“No,” said Mr Parkley, looking round at the frowning faces of his friends; “that means spending another thousand to gain the day, and nothing to be obtained of a beggarly Cuban adventurer, who has neither money nor honour.”

“Take care!” cried Lauré, flashing into rage, and baring his teeth like some wild cat. But the next instant, with wonderful self-command, he cooled down, standing erect, proud and handsome, with his great black beard half-way down his breast. “Bah!” he exclaimed, “the English diving-master is angry, and stoops to utter coward’s insults.”

“I’ll show you, Mr Lorry, that I am no coward over this,” said Mr Parkley, firmly. “You mean to throw us over, then, now that we are ready to start.”

“You threaten to throw me over,” said the Cuban, smiling disdainfully. “If you mean, do I still refuse to go, I say yes! yes! yes! You and your partner shall never touch a single bar of the treasure. Ha! ha! What will you do now?”

“Start without you,” said Mr Parkley, coolly. “Captain Studwick, see that this man goes ashore.”

The Cuban was already close to the gangway, but he turned sharply round, and took a couple of steps towards the last speaker.

“What!” he said, with a look of apprehension flashing out of his eyes. “You will go yourself without one to guide you?”

“Yes,” said Mr Parkley; “and if you went down on your knees now to beg me, damme, sir, you’ve broke your contract, and I wouldn’t take you.”

“Ha – ha – ha – ha – ha!” laughed the Cuban, derisively, as he quickly recovered his composure. “A beggarly threat. Do you not know that it took me five years of constant toil to make the discovery? and you talk like this!”

“Yes,” said Mr Parkley. “It took a beggarly mongrel foreigner five years, no doubt; but it would not take an enterprising Englishman five weeks.”

The Cuban’s hand went into his breast again as he heard the words “beggarly mongrel foreigner,” and Captain Studwick grasped a marlin-spike, ready to strike his arm down if he drew a weapon; but the rage was crushed down directly, and Lauré laughed again derisively.

“Go, then, fools, if you like. But I know: it is an empty threat. Ha, ha, ha! Go alone. A pleasant voyage, Señor Parkley, and you, too, Señor Captain. You will perhaps find me there before you.”

“Perhaps,” said Mr Parkley. “But go I will, and hang me if I come back till I have found it.”

“Well, for the matter o’ that, Master Parkley and Capen Studwick,” said a rough voice, “if it means putting the schooner at anchor where them Spanish galleons was sunk in the Carib Sea, if you’ll let me take the wheel, and you’ll find fine weather, I’ll steer you to the very spot.”