Loe raamatut: «Dutch the Diver: or, A Man's Mistake», lehekülg 6

“Good, then, let’s make our start. It will astonish Pugh when he comes up from his berth to find us full-handed and well on our way.”

“Is he lying down, then?” said the captain.

“Yes, I persuaded him to go, as he was the watch again to-night. The fellow is ill with worry and anxiety, and we can’t afford to have him knocked up. You’ll start, then, at once.”

“In a quarter of an hour or so,” said Captain Studwick. “Here’s a large barque coming up, and we may as well let her clear us first.”

Giving the word to the mate, the first half-dozen men were called up, and a couple of sails made ready for hoisting, so as to give steerage way, and the motions of the dimly-seen barque were watched.

“I don’t want her to run foul of us,” said the captain, “for if she did, I should be ready to swear that it was one of the Cuban’s plans.”

“Hardly,” replied Mr Parkley. “If any fresh hindrance is to come to us, it will be from the shore. If you take my advice, you will not let a boat approach the ship to-night.”

“I don’t mean to,” said the captain. “All right, she’ll give us a pretty good wide berth. Hallo! What’s that?” he said, crossing over to port.

“Boat from the shore, sir,” said one of the men; and at the same moment came a hail out of the darkness.

“Ahoy there! Heave us a rope.”

Oakum stepped forward, and was about to cast a rope down, when the captain stayed him.

“What is it?” he said sharply. “Keep off, or you may have something through your planks;” and as he spoke he peered down into the boat. “Here, Jones, keep a sharp look-out on the other side, and see that no boat comes up.”

“Is that Captain Studwick?” said a woman’s voice.

“Yes, and what then?” said the captain. “Now, it won’t do. The trick’s too clear. How many have you in that boat?”

“No one but myself,” replied the same voice. “Pray, pray let me come on board.”

“Who are you, and what do you want?” exclaimed the captain. “Quick! I’ve no time to waste.”

“Let her come on board,” cried Mr Parkley, hastily. “Don’t you know her?” he whispered; “it’s Mrs Pugh.” Then leaning over the side – “Hester, my child, is that you?”

“Yes,” was the hoarse reply. “Mr Parkley, for Heaven’s sake, take me on board.”

“There, I told you so,” exclaimed Mr Parkley; “let down the steps.”

“I tell you it’s some ruse of that cursed Cuban,” cried the captain, angrily. “If you give way we shall be stopped again. Keep that boat off below there.”

“No, no!” cried Mr Parkley. “Stop. Studwick, I take the responsibility on myself. Oakum, lower the steps, and throw that rope.”

“Ay, ay, sir,” said the old sailor. “Am I to do it?” he continued to the captain.

“Yes, if he wishes it,” was the testy reply; and then in a low voice he said to the mate, “Slip the hawser, and haul up the jib and staysail. I’m going to the wheel.”

His orders were rapidly executed, and the long, graceful vessel began almost imperceptibly to move through the water.

“If it is any trick,” said the captain, as he went aft to the man he had stationed at the wheel, “it shall take place at sea. What’s that?”

He turned back instantly, for at that moment what sounded like a slight scuffle was heard by the gangway he had left.

Story 1-Chapter XI.
In Bessy’s Cabin

So determined was Captain Studwick not to be lightly trifled with that a pistol was in his hand as he ran back to the side, but his alarm was unnecessary, for the scuffling noise was caused merely by Mr Parkley catching their visitor as she tottered and nearly fell on the deck.

“Let me see my husband, Mr Parkley,” she moaned, “for pity’s sake let me see my husband. If I saw him and spoke to him, he would listen to me.”

“But, my dear child,” began Mr Parkley.

“I shall die if I do not see him,” she moaned again. “I have been so ill – I have suffered so much, and this evening the news came that he was going away – away without seeing me. Oh, God, what have I done that I should suffer so!”

“My dear child – my dear Mrs Pugh.”

“I must see him – pray, pray take me to him,” she sobbed, “it is more than I can – more than I can bear.”

Mr Parkley caught her again just in time, for she swooned away, and laying her upon the deck he tried hard to restore her. Then looking up he became aware that the lights of the town were fast receding.

“Why, Studwick,” he exclaimed, “the schooner’s moving.”

“Yes,” said the captain.

“But the boat this poor girl came off in?”

“Ashore by this time.”

“But we can’t take her. Hang it, man, we cannot have domestic differences on board. She must go back.”

“We must now land her at Plymouth,” said the captain. “Send for my Bessy, man, she will soon bring her to. How foolish of the little woman to come aboard.”

“Shall I fetch the young lady, sir?” said Sam Oakum gruffly, as he stood with a look of disgust upon his face.

“Yes, for goodness’ sake, do. Quick!” exclaimed Mr Parkley, whose efforts to restore animation were all in vain.

Just as Sam went aft, though, Mrs Pugh began to revive, stared wildly about, and sitting up saw the captain bending over her.

“Captain Studwick,” she cried, catching his hand and drawing herself upon her knees to cling to him, “don’t send me back – don’t send me away. Let me go too. I could not bear to part from my husband like this. He is angry with me,” she whispered, “I cannot tell you why, but he has not spoken to me for days, and I have been so – so ill.”

“Yes, yes, you shall see him, my dear, but stand up. You must not make a scene.”

“Oh no,” she exclaimed, rising hastily, “I will do anything you say, only let me see him and explain. Let me go with, you. If I could talk to him he would believe me, and all would be well again. If not,” she said with a hysterical cry, “I shall go mad – I shall go mad.”

“Come, let me take you below,” said the captain, for she was clinging tightly to his arm.

“Yes, yes,” whispered the poor trembling woman. “I could not help that; I am trying so hard to be calm, but my poor breast is so care-laden that a cry would escape. Let me go with you, Captain Studwick. I will be so quiet – so careful.”

“It is impossible, my dear child,” he said in a husky voice, for her agony affected him.

“No, no, don’t say that; I will help Bessy nurse your poor son. She loves me, and believes in me, and I will give no trouble. If you set me ashore I shall die of grief. I cannot live to be separated from my husband – for him to leave me like this.”

“Well, well, well, I’ll see what I can do,” said the captain in the quieting way that one would speak to a child; but she peered instantly into his face.

“You are deceiving me,” she cried. “You are trying to calm me with promises, and you mean to set me ashore. Mr Parkley,” she wailed, turning to him, “you know me, and believe in me: you know the cause of this trouble. Take me to my dear husband, and help me to drive away this horrible belief of his, or I shall die.”

“My dear child – my dear child,” he said, drawing her to him, “I will try all I can.”

“But you will set me ashore again when I strove so hard to get to him. I was so ill in bed, and he has not been near me. I found out that you were taking Dutch from me, and I could not stay. Let me see him – oh, let me see him!”

“You shall, my dear, as soon as you are calm.”

“But he is here,” she whispered, not daring to raise her voice lest, in her excited state, it should get the mastery over her, and she should burst forth in hysterical wails.

“Yes, my child, he is here. He is asleep below.”

“Poor Dutch!” she whispered to herself; and then with a faint, weary smile she laid her hands in those of her old friend. “There, you can see how calm and patient I will be,” she continued. “No one shall suspect any trouble. I will be so quiet and patient, and if he will not listen to me, I will not complain, so long as I am near him – only wait till God changes his heart towards me.”

“There, then, you shall stay – till we get to Plymouth,” exclaimed Mr Parkley, hastily passing his hand across his eyes. “Don’t let the men see that anything’s the matter, my dear.”

“No: oh, no,” she replied. “I’m quite calm now. Ah, here’s Miss Studwick.”

“You here, Mrs Pugh!” exclaimed the captain’s daughter, who believed that she was coming to her father.

“Yes, I could not stay,” Sobbed Hester. “I was obliged to come. Oh, Bessy, dear Bessy, don’t shrink from me,” she wailed, as the men gladly drew away and left them together.

“Hush! don’t say a word here,” said Bessy, glancing round, and speaking hoarsely; “come down to my cabin.”

Hester tottered, and would have fallen, but Bessy caught her arm and led her below, where, as soon as they were alone, the former fell upon her knees, and held up her hands, catching those of Bessy as she stood before her.

“Listen to me, Miss Studwick,” she moaned. “Don’t condemn me unheard. I thought you believed in me, but you shrank from me just now.”

Bessy did not speak, but gazed down on the sobbing woman with a look of pity.

“My dear husband has allowed cruel suspicions to creep into his heart, and he wrongs me – he does, indeed. Oh, Bessy, Bessy, you loved him once, I know, I know you did, and you must have hated me for taking his love from you.”

A low sigh burst from Bessy’s breast, but she did not speak.

“You know,” sobbed Hester, “how true and noble and frank he is.”

“I do,” said Bessy softly.

“Then, what would the woman be who could betray him, even in thought? Would she not be the vilest, the most cruel of wretches?”

“She would, indeed,” said Bessy coldly.

“Bessy – Miss Studwick,” cried Hester, with a low wail of misery, “if I have committed any sin it is that of loving my dear husband too well. God – God knows how innocent I am. Oh! it is too hard to bear.”

She sank lower on the cabin floor, weeping silently, but only by a great effort, for the heavy sobs kept rising to her lips, and in her agony the intense desire to obtain relief in uttering loud cries was almost more than she could master.

Bessy stood looking down upon her with brows knit and lips pressed together, for her heart whispered to her that this was a judgment on this woman, who had robbed her of her love, and that she ought to rejoice over her downfall. Then, too, the thought came that, this idol fallen, she might, perhaps, herself be raised up in its place, and a flash of joy irradiated her mind, but only for a moment. Then her better nature prevailed, and bending down she lifted the prostrate woman with ease, and laid her upon the couch-like locker that filled one side of the cabin, kneeling down beside her, and drawing the dishevelled head upon her bosom.

“Hester,” she whispered, “I did hate you, very, very bitterly, as intensely as I once loved Dutch Pugh; but all that is passed. When I came to your house, and began to know you better, I used to go home and kneel down and pray for his happiness with you, while, when I heard of his trouble, my hatred began to fight its way back, so that the last day or two I have felt ready to curse you for the wreck you have made.”

“Oh, no, no, no,” sobbed Hester, clinging to her; “I am innocent.”

“Yes, I know and believe that now,” said Bessy; “and I will help you to win him back to the same belief.”

“But you will bring him to me quickly, or they will set me ashore,” wailed Hester, clinging tightly to her companion as she uttered a sigh of relief. “If I could but stay only to see him sometimes, and know that he was safe, I should wait then patiently until he came to me and told me that all this dreadful dream was at an end.”

“And you believe that he will do this?”

“Believe!” cried Hester, starting up, and gazing full at her companion. “Oh, yes, I believe it. It may be long first, but the time will come, and I can wait – I can wait – I can wait.”

She sank back quite exhausted as she repeated the last words again and again in a whisper, the last time almost inaudibly; and then, holding Bessy Studwick’s hand tightly clasped to her bosom, her eyes closed, and she sank into the deep sleep of exhaustion, the first sleep that had visited the weary woman for three nights; while, as the light from the cabin lamp fell athwart her pretty troubled face, Bessy knelt there watching her, passing her soft white hand across the forehead to sweep away the tangled locks. Then as the time wore on, and the rippling, plashing noise of the water against the ship grew louder, and the footsteps on the deck less frequent, she listened for the catching sighs that escaped at intervals from the sleeping young wife’s lips, her own tears stealing gently down from time to time, as Hester murmured more than once the name of which she had herself loved to dream.

“Poor Dutch! and he might have felt the same trouble, perhaps about me,” thought Bessy, as she bent over and kissed Hester’s cheek, to feel the sleeping woman’s arms steal round her neck for a moment, and then glide softly down again.

“No, no, it could not be true,” she whispered again, as she knelt there watching hour after hour for Hester to awake, till her own head sank lower and lower, and at last she fell asleep by the suffering woman’s side.

Story 1-Chapter XII.
The Doctor’s Decree

As the morning broke bright and clear, the large three-masted schooner was running down the Channel under easy sail, and the men were beginning to fall into their places, though all was at present rather awkward and strange. Captain Studwick and Mr Parkley had gone below, congratulating themselves on having succeeded so far, and placed themselves out of the reach of Lauré’s machinations, while Mr Jones, the mate, had taken charge, and was now pacing the deck in company with Dutch, who was trying hard to master his pain by throwing his whole soul into the adventure.

In spite of himself, though, a little suffering face constantly presented itself before him; and again and again he found his conscience smiting him, and charging him with cruelty in forsaking his wife – asking him, too, if he was sure that his suspicions were just.

At such times he recalled the shadows on the blind, set his teeth, and thought of Lauré’s sneering laugh of triumph, and then his blood seemed to boil up, and it was only by a strong effort that he was able to master the agony he felt, mingled as it was with a desire for revenge.

“If I don’t get to work at something,” he muttered, “I shall go mad.”

Just then the sun rose bright and clear, sending a flood of wondrous radiance over the dancing waters, flecking the distant land with golden radiance and dark shadows, while the soft mists gradually rose higher and higher, gleaming like transparent silver, as they floated over woodland and down.

“I wonder whether I shall ever see you again,” muttered Dutch to himself, as he leaned over the bulwark, and gazed at the beautiful panorama by which they were swiftly gliding; and then, turning away with a sigh, he came full upon the dark-skinned mulatto sailor, busily coiling down a rope, and Dutch started slightly, half feeling that he had seen the lowering countenance before, but the man paid no heed to him, only went on with his task with his tarry hands, and finally limped off to another part of the vessel.

Just then Captain Studwick and Mr Parkley came on deck, talking earnestly, and when he went forward to shake hands they looked troubled, and there was an air of constraint in their manner that he could not understand.

“Well, gentlemen,” he said, with an affectation of ease which he did not feel, “we are out of our troubles now.”

“I don’t know so much about that,” said Mr Parkley. “Eh, Studwick?”

“No,” said the captain, “I don’t know either.”

“Why, what do you mean?” said Dutch, and his eye involuntarily fell upon the dark-skinned sailor, who was close at hand. “You don’t suspect that the Cuban can interfere now?”

“You’d better tell him,” whispered Mr Parkley.

“No, no, you tell him,” said the captain uneasily, “known him longer, and so on.”

“What are you whispering about?” exclaimed Dutch. “Pray speak out.”

Mr Parkley looked at the captain for help, but he began to whistle, and walked away to give an order.

“Well, my dear Pugh, the fact is,” said Mr Parkley, taking hold of his special button.

“Pray go on,” exclaimed Dutch, “not anything serious?”

“N-no, not serious, but awkward. The fact is your wife came on board last night.”

“My wife!” exclaimed Dutch, and a flash of joy lit up his face. Then the sombre cloud overshadowed it again, and he exclaimed bitterly, “I have no wife,” and walked away.

“Well, my lad,” said Captain Studwick sharply, for the mulatto had ceased working, and, half bent down as he was, stood listening intently to all that passed, “you’ve nothing to do with what those gentlemen are saying.”

The man made a deprecating motion with his hand and bent to his work again.

“We may as well understand each other at once,” said the captain sharply. “Stand up.”

The mulatto stood up, but in a half-averted way, and displayed a curious sinister expression, caused by what appeared to be a scar across his cheek, while his eyes seemed shifty and unable to meet the speaker’s gaze.

“What is your name?”

“Tonio,” said the mulatto.

“Well, Tonio, mind this: You are engaged here for good pay. I always see that my men are well supplied in their mess, and, in return, I expect smart work and strict obedience. Do you understand?”

“Yes, captain,” said the man, in a tone half sulky, half-full of humiliation.

“That will do. Now go and help that fellow to take a pull at the jib.”

The man went limping off, but with great alacrity, passing Dutch, who came back looking very stern and angry.

“Captain Studwick, I must ask you to put in at Plymouth. Mr Parkley, she must be set ashore.”

“But, my dear boy, had you not better see her first. I’m – I’m afraid she will object to go without.”

“No,” said Dutch sternly, and he gazed at both in turn. “She must be set ashore as soon as possible.”

Captain Studwick walked forward again, whistling, and then pulling out his glass he took a look at a fast steamer astern.

“Parkley,” said Dutch, as soon as they were alone, “I could not say it before him, but I have not the manly strength to see her. I am weak as water, and I could not bear to see her agony. Tell her,” he added with his lower lip working, “that I forgive her, and will pray for her, but I can never see her again.”

“But, my dear Pugh, you must – ”

“Good morning, gentlemen,” said a voice that made them start; and turning sharply round, it was to find Mr Meldon, the young doctor. “I wanted to see you, Mr Pugh.”

“To see me?”

“Yes, about Mrs Pugh. You know she came on board last night.”

“Yes, I know,” said Pugh, coldly.

“She must have left her sick bed to come and see you, I suppose. It was a very ill-advised course, for she was ill.”

“Yes,” exclaimed Dutch, with an eagerness he could not conceal.

“And I am sorry to say that she is now in a high state of fever.”

“Fever!”

“Yes, and quite delirious.”

“We must put back, then,” exclaimed Dutch. “She must be set ashore – taken home.”

“I should not like to take the responsibility of having her moved,” said the doctor. “If you will take my advice, you will let her remain.”

“Let her remain?” gasped Dutch. “Impossible!”

“No,” said the doctor, smiling; “the removal is impossible.”

“Is she in danger?”

“Not necessarily now; but she would be in great danger if moved. I’m afraid I must ask you to leave her to me. It is fortunate that I was on board, and that she has so good a nurse with her as Miss Studwick.”

Dutch essayed to speak, but no words came, and drawing in his breath as if in intense pain he walked to the side and stood with his head resting upon his hand, looking out to sea, and wondering how this tangle was to be ended.

“Poor fellow! he seems a good deal cut up about it,” said Mr Meldon, who was a dark, earnest-looking man of three or four-and-thirty.

“Yes,” said Mr Parkley. “She was to have gone ashore at Plymouth.”

“Ha?” said Meldon. “Poor young thing. Great trouble about parting from her husband.”

“Ye-es,” said Parkley. Then, to turn the conversation, he said with a smile, “Lucky thing for us bachelors, Mr Meldon. We never have to trouble our heads about the women.”

“N-no,” said the doctor, looking sharply at his companion, with a broad red stain of blood suffusing his cheeks. “Quite a novelty, though, a voyage with ladies on board. He didn’t hear me,” he continued, as Mr Parkley obeyed a sign from the captain to come and have a look through his glass at the steamer astern.

“No, sir, he’s gone to have a good look at that steamer, as seems as if she meant to overhaul us,” said Sam Oakum; “but I heard you, and you’re right.”

“Let’s see, you are the second mate, aren’t you, Mr Oakum?”

“Sir, to you, I am,” said Oakum.

“But what do you mean by being right?” said the doctor with a smile.

“’Bout having ladies on board, sir. I know I’ve been voyages before with women aboard twice or three times mayhap, and no good can come of it.”

“Ah, you’re a croaker, I see,” said the doctor, nodding and laughing. “Your liver’s out of order.”

“Hope I am, sir; and as to my liver, I don’t believe I’ve got one, leastways I can’t say as I knows I’ve one. Ay, ay, sir, coming.”

He trotted forward to obey a call from the captain, and more sail was hoisted, the steamer still overhauling them, and both the captain and Mr Parkley watched her intently, fully expecting to find that this was some new trick of the Cuban, but to the satisfaction of all concerned it proved a false alarm, and the schooner continued her way onwards towards the west.

It soon became evident, even to the greatest doubter, that the doctor was in the right, and, accepting it as fate that Hester must remain on board, Dutch devoted himself to the preparations for their cruise, rather avoiding the cabins when possible, and dividing his time between reading to the invalid John Studwick, and long talks with old Sam Oakum about the coast and the places where he swore the old plate-ships lay.

“Lor’ bless you, Mr Pugh, sir, and you, Mr Parkley,” Oakum said one day, when Land’s End had long been left behind, and all was open water, “I’m as sure of the place as can be. I remember all the bearings, too, so well. Don’t you be skeart about that; I’ll take you, sure enough.”

“Well, Oakum, we are going to trust you,” said Mr Parkley, “and if you lead us to success you shall not go unrewarded.”

“I don’t want no reward, sir,” said the old man gruffly. “If it turns up trumps, you give me a pound or two o’ bacco, and I shall be satisfied.”

Mr Parkley laughed, and after a time left them together, Dutch seeming to find solace in the old sailor’s company as, in a grumbling way, he began to talk about the state of those on board.

“Seems to me, sir, as it warn’t wise to bring that there poor fellow aboard here, just to die and be wrapped in a hammock, for a sailor’s funeral: he’s allus in your way, and gives a fellow low spirits to see. Look at that steward as the skipper must have, just as if we wanted a steward when we’ve got ’Pollo, as is as good a cook as ever came to. Great fat fellow to go walloping down just when I wanted some rope coiled down, and set to blubbering like a great gal because he’s left his wife behind.”

Dutch winced slightly, and turned away to light a cigar.

“By-the-way, sir, how’s your missus?” said Oakum.

“Better, decidedly,” said Dutch shortly.

“Glad on it, sir. Not as I likes women aboard; but I don’t want ’em to be ill. Good job we’ve got the doctor here, to see as everybody takes his salts and senny reg’lar; but what in the world the skipper meant by shipping that great long chap, Mr Wilson, for I don’t know. He won’t go into one o’ your soots, Mr Dutch, I know.”

“Oh, no,” said Dutch, smiling; “he’s a naturalist, and going to collect birds.”

“And take ’em out too, sir. He is a long-legged ’un. Why, I see him hit his head twiced up agen the cabin ceiling, and he’s allus knocking his hat out o’ shape. Nattalist, eh? Well, he’s about the unnattalist-shaped chap I ever see, and all corners. It’s my opinion, sir, as when he was made Natur begun him for a geerarf, and when she’d done his legs altered her mind and turned him into a man. You don’t mind me going on talking, sir?”

“No, Oakum, I like it,” said Dutch, though he hardly took in a word.

“Well, sir, he’s got a couple of cages full of birds, robins, and sparrers, and starnels, and all sorts, as he says he’s going to set free out in South Amerikee, and bring back the cages full of other sorts.”

“Naturalists have queer ideas, Oakum,” said Dutch, moving himself. “But about this place we are going to. The sea is always calm, you say?”

“’Cept in stormy times, sir, when, of course, she gets a bit thick. But there, don’t you worry about that; we’ll take you right to the spot, and lay you just where you can have the long-boat out with the pumps and traps, or maybe even get the schooner anchored right over the place, and you and Master Rasp there can go down and crowbar the gold and silver out in heaps.”

“But suppose some one has been there before us,” said Dutch.

“Not they, sir: first place, no one knows of it ’cept that furren gentleman; second place, where’s the air-pumps and divers’ togs, to go down and get at it? I get wondering now why I never thought of a trip out there, after being with Capen Studwick here, but I never did. And now, sir, if you’ll give me a light I’ll have a quiet smoke.”

Dutch took out a match-box, and was going to light up, but Oakum held up his hand to command silence; and before the young man could make out what he was about to do, he stepped softly to the side, where a large tarpaulin covered one of the boats lying in its chocks, gave one end of the cover a sharp snatch, and the mulatto started up.

“Now then, out o’ that,” said the old sailor, menacingly. “If you want a caulk, just you take it below in your bunk.”

The man bent his head, as he leaped lightly out, gave Oakum a curious look from beneath his half-closed eyelids, and then limped forward.

“I don’t like the looks o’ that chap, Mr Dutch. He’s one o’ the sort, that if you hit him, he’d out with a knife and sheath it in a man’s ribs. That chap was listening, that’s what he was a-doing, though he pretended to be asleep. I don’t like the look on him, nor of some more o’ them as come aboard with him, and if the skipper don’t look out there’ll be mischief.”

“I’m afraid you are given to prophesying evil, Oakum,” said Dutch, with a smile.

“Well, sir, I on’y says what I thinks, but, mind you this: if we get back safe, I shall be surprised, for never yet, when I’ve gone out to sea with petticoats on board have we got back without an accident.”

“Nonsense, man.”

“’Taint nonsense, sir; it’s fate,” said Oakum, “and what’s more, look here, I ain’t a sooperstitious man, but the speerits o’ them sailors as was lost in the olden times along o’ the treasure ships ain’t a-going to let us get hold o’ what they’ve been watching all those hundreds o’ years without making a bit of a how-de-do.”