Chapter IV: An Inkling of the Plot

My poor father’s face, with the tears standing in his eyes, was the last object I saw in the wan light of the guttering candles. The next moment my captors lugged me into the darkness of the garden and pushed me upon a hand-cart such as was used to fetch up the frailer kinds of merchandise from the docks. Peter’s immense body already occupied most of the cart’s cramped space, and I was squeezed precariously between him and the near side, the which Silver perceiving he prodded Peter into a more restricted compass and then spread a tarpaulin over both of us.

“There ye are, my gentlemen,” he said cheerfully. “Safe as a round of beef and a side o’ pork, says you--and you says right. Ah, captain, we’re ready here whenever you are, sir.”

“Proceed then, John,” answered my great-uncle’s voice. “You remember the way? The Green Lane,[1] ’tis called. Four men should be sufficient to accompany you. I will go on by another street with the rest of our party.”

[1] Maiden Lane.

“Don’t ye worry yourself, captain,” returned Silver.

Footsteps thudded away on the gravel, and I heard the scratching of the one-legged man’s crutch as he stumped in front of us and the cart jolted forward. They evidently went out the back way into a little alley, where their exit was least likely to be observed, and paused while Silver reconnoitred the Green Lane from its cover.

“Not a sail in sight,” he said presently. “Dash my buttons what a night! Precious dark it is, and I’m main glad we didn’t fetch Pew along, with his bleared deadlights to hold us back. Come along, Black Dog. Yarely, my hearties! If this breeze keeps up----”

We emerged into the Green Lane, heading toward the East River, and a thrill tickled my spine as I heard the chanting tones of old Diggory Leigh, our ward watchman.

“Ten o’clock of a clear, dark night, and the wind in the nor’west. And all’s well!”

“Easy, all!” whispered Silver’s voice. “Push on, ye swabs; push on! But hold your gab. I’ll do the talking.”

The steel piece on the butt of his crutch tinkled on the cobbles as he stumped ahead of the cart.

“Ho there, shipmate,” he hailed cordially. “And does you do this the whole, livelong night?”

Diggory’s lanthorn-stave jingled on the ground. “I do,” he returned in pompous tones. “What keeps you abroad so late? Y’are seafaring men, I judge.”

“Now I calls that clever,” protested Silver with unconcealed admiration. “You sees us in the dark, and straight: off you says, ‘seafaring men.’ I can see you’re a vigilant watchman, shipmate. I’d hate to be a neefarious fellow in your town. Blow my scuttle-butt, I would!”

Diggory’s appreciation of this tribute was mirrored in his voice.

“’Tis essential that our citizens be protected,” he answered. “Yet there are those who have accused me of sleeping on watch.”

“Skulkers, they be--low-lived skulkers as ever was,” Silver assured him. “I know how you feel. Here we’ve been a-workin’ since sunup, a-shiftin’ cargo and stowin’ it aboard, and I’ll lay you a piece of eight the captain never so much as sarves out a extry noggin o’ rum.”

Diggory’s stave jingled again as he sloped it over his shoulder.

“The wisest men are not always those in authority, friend,” he said. “Ye might think, from the way some of the Corporation talk, ’twas they bar the night-walkers and wastrels from the city’s streets! Bah!”

And his wailing voice receded into Pearl Street.

“What are you night-walkers and wastrels a-sniggerin’ about?” demanded Silver of his following. “George Merry, I’ll lay into you with my crutch. Put some heft behind this here blessed cart. Ain’t ye ashamed o’ yourselves, a-laughin’ at a brave, hard-workin’ watchman as keeps wicked pirates from liftin’ your goods?”

A few hundred feet farther on we rattled off the cobbles on to the planked surface of a wharf.

“That you, John?” growled a voice.

“Aye, aye, Bill. Where’s the captain?”

“Gone off in the jollyboat. That ’ere Spanish Irisher is a-waitin’ him aboard.”

I heard Silver curse under his breath.

“What was you sayin’, John?” asked the other man.

“What I was sayin’ don’t signify, but what I was thinkin’ was that there’s a deal o’ mystery in this business,” answered Silver with an edge to his tone. “But there! Why should I consarn myself as am no more’n quartermaster o’ the old _Walrus_? You’re Flint’s mate, Bill, and if it don’t tickle your dignity to risk your neck without knowin’ what the stake is, why should I complain?”

The other man, whom I now identified as the very brown-faced fellow who had been sitting with Darby in the Whale’s Head, replied with a string of oaths.

“----!” he wound up. “Flint hisself don’t know much more’n you and me.”

“He’ll take a lot for a sizzlin’, gut-cuttin’ fire-eater,” rejoined Silver. “I’m ---- if I’d eat the humble-pie as is his reg’lar diet. Look at what we been through already! First off we leaves a safe hangout and a rich cruisin’-ground by Madagascar. Then we barges off from an ekally safe lay on the Main. And his bloomin’ lordship, not trustin’ his own crew, calls a fo’csle council aboard the _Walrus_ and asks for volunteers to go with him into New York!”

“No, no,” struck in Bones--I could tell him by his voice, which was of a peculiarly hectoring, rasping timbre. “’Twas Flint would have him take _Walrus_ men along, not trustin’ what he was up to. I heard what was said, John, for Flint had me into the cabin at the end.

“‘If you won’t say no more, Murray, you won’t,’ says he. ‘I know you well enough for that. And as for your ---- political combinations they mean nothin’ to me ’nless there’s money in ’em for my pocket. But I say flatly I won’t trust you by your lone in New York; no, nor with only men of your own choosin’. How do I know you maybe won’t sell me for your pardon?’”

Silver pulled the tarpaulin from over our heads.

“If Flint said that ’twas the best speech he ever made,” he returned. “All I knows is that Murray came on deck before us all and says as how he has a mission of danger to perform and he knowed there was no daredevils like the old _Walrus_ hands, and would a score volunteer?

“‘For what do we volunteer, captain, if I may make so bold?’ says I.

“‘A fair question merits a fair answer, John,’ says he. ‘And I’ll say to all you lads I’m planning a cruise as’ll make the fortune of the last one o’ you and set us in such a position that those as desires to go ashore and enjoy their ease in comfort can look to receiving free pardons.’

“‘Ah, yes, sir,’ says I; ‘but what might be the nature o’ this cruise, and why does we go into New York, where there’s sojers, and maybe King’s ships?’

“‘The sojers won’t hurt you, John,’ says he, ‘and if there’s King’s ships we’ll try again. We are goin’ in for me to meet one man for a talk under cover, and while I’m a-meetin’ of him we’ll crimp a likely youth I have my eye upon.’

“And that was all I had out o’ him, Bill. I volunteered for blind curiosity, hopin’ for to discover what he was up to, and I’m free to say I’ve had my trouble for my pains.”

“You’re no worse off’n the rest o’ us,” growled Bones. “Belay that guff, and get these carcases aboardship. If we miss the ebb there’ll be ---- to pay. He’s no friend o’ mine, Murray; but he’s kept me in rum and ’backy and spendin’-money since I joined up with him.”

“Give Flint some o’ the credit, Bill,” objected Silver.

“I give him plenty,” snarled Bones. “He’s a rare fighter, Flint is. But he never had Murray’s head to plan--and he knows that as well as me. Aye, for I’ve heard him say it.

“‘Curse me if I like to bob and prance for the old hellion, Bill,’ says he; ‘but he has the skill o’ the Fiend at our lay. He’s lasted twice as long as me or any other.’”

“Skill is right,” admitted Silver. “D’ye mind, when we was overhaulin’ the brig, he ran up alongside the _Walrus_ wi’ his speakin’-trumpet out and hailed?

“‘Ahoy, _Walrus_!’ says he. ‘Don’t touch her spars or riggin’. Give her a couple o’ round shot across her decks. We’ve got to get rid of her crew, anyway.”

He chuckled enviously.

“But this isn’t gettin’ us all back to the _Walrus_, Bill,” he added. “Here, George Merry, can’t you and your mates handle the big fellow? Two to his head and two to his feet--and drop him easy or he’ll stove in the boat. Now, my gentleman--” this to me--“we’ll pass you down, too. You must pull a strong oar with the captain for him to be so anxious to get you offshore hale and whole. It’ll be place and rank for you, messmate, or a chance to swim wi’ the sharks.

“Where’s the red-headed little Irisher, Bill?”

“I sent him off with the captain,” replied Bones. “Down wi’ you, John. We’ll cast off.”

From where I now lay, propped up in the bow with my head resting on Peter’s huge stomach, I could see the wharf a few feet above and the vague figures of the pirates and behind them the shadowy outline of the warehouses and an occasional dim light. Silver--I knew him by his height and a certain hunching of the shoulder under which he rested his crutch--turned away as Bones addressed him.

“What of the cart?” he asked.

“That’s easy,” returned Bones.

And he gave it a shove that sent it splashing into the water off the wharf’s end.

“No incriminatin’ evidence or what the lawyer sharks calls clues,” remarked Silver. “A good job well done, Bill, if you asks me.”

He lowered himself to a seat upon the stringpiece of the wharf, dropped the butt of his crutch to the forward thwart, felt about with his one leg and came to rest in front of Peter and me. The crutch he allowed to slip to the bottom of the boat, and in its place he took an oar. Bill Bones found a seat in the stern sheets.

“All clear,” muttered Bill. “Give way.”

The oars fended off from the wharf, and the boat crept out into the stream, where it felt the full strength of the tide, just beginning to turn. The bow bounced up as the first wave hit it, and Peter, beneath me, emitted a dismal groan through his gag. Silver, bending diligently to his oar, looked over his shoulder.

“You would come, messmate,” he said. “’Tis nobody’s fault but your own.”

Peter gave a convulsive wiggle which almost knocked me out of the boat.

“Here, here,” admonished Silver. “That’s no way to act. D’ye want to drown us all?”

Another groan from Peter, and he lay still.

“Look sharp,” called Bones. “The brig’s just ahead.”

A riding-light gleamed high above us in the velvet gloom. I heard the faint _slap-slap-slap_ of water against an anchored hull. Other lights appeared, the square pattern of stern windows, a great lanthorn hung in the waist. A gruff hail reached us.

“Boat ahoy!”

“Bones comin’ aboard.”

“Aye, aye, Bill.”

As we rounded under her counter a couple of ropes rattled down to us, and I heard the creaking of tackle and hoist. We ground against the dripping black hull, and one of the oarsmen seized the rungs of a ladder which dribbled in the waves.

“Make fast the young ’un first,” rasped Bones as he went up the wooden rungs monkey-fashion.

“Aye, aye, Bill,” answered Silver, and I became conscious that the one-legged man and another were knotting a loose rope beneath my arm-pits. “All right, above there,” called Silver presently.

And to me as the block began to whine:

“Watch out for your head, my master. Up you go! All the sensations as come to a poor, honest pirate as is hung in chains at Execution Dock.”

The rope tautened; the unseen block whined louder; and I rose involuntarily from my position across Peter’s belly. My feet were jerked from a thwart, and I kicked the air. The grunts of men hauling in unison floated from the brig’s deck, and as I rose faster I commenced to swing like a pendulum.

And now I understood Silver’s warning as to my head, for I came into violent collision with the brig’s hull and by mere luck escaped with a bruised shoulder instead of a broken skull. I would have cried out, I think, but the gag restrained me; and inside of a minute I was dangling over the bulwarks, feet kicking frantically for standing room. A man caught me by one arm and drew me inboard, shouting the while to “slacken away!” and so I came down again with a bump that was like to crack my knee-caps, deposited as so much cargo upon the pitchy deck.

Dazed by treatment I had never sustained before, I stood heedless as the ropes were unfastened beneath my arm-pits, my bonds slipped off and the gag extracted from my aching jaws. I was just beginning to take in the aspect of my surroundings when Corlaer’s cask of a body topped the bulwarks, swung with ludicrous unconcern for an instant as I dare say mine had done and then lurched in and crashed to the deck. The Dutchman was purple in the face, with white spots dotting the congested area of his cheeks, and gasping for breath. His stomach heaved tumultuously as the gag was removed.

“What ails you, Peter?” I cried.

“Der water,” he moaned. “It makes me sick.”

And sick he was--violently.

I helped him to the side as a whistle trilled.

“Capstan men for’ard,” shouted a voice.

“What d’ye say?” called Bill Bones. “Who ordered the anchor up? The longboat’s still alongside.”

“Captain’s orders,” rumbled the answer from the darkness. “Said to cat the anchor, Bill, and get sail on her. We’m to start so soon as the Spanisher goes off--his boat’s under the sta’b’d gangway.”

Bones ripped off an admirable stream of oaths.

“Might ha’ told me,” he complained. “Slack aft the longboat, a pair o’ you. Is the jollyboat hove up? Aloft, topmen! Clear the braces. John, you’d better take the helm. I s’pose his lordship’ll come up to con us out when he gets good and ready, seein’ he’s the only one o’ us as knows his way about this blasted harbor!”

“Aye, aye, Bill.”

Silver stumped out of the shadow for’ard into the glare of the big lanthorn that swung from a lower yard of the mainmast over the waist.

“But what about our pris’ners?” Silver asked.

Mr. Bones cast an uneasy glance at us.

“I can’t have that there bloomin’ volcano a-muckin’ up the decks, let alone cabin or fo’csle. Leave ’em be, John. They can’t do no harm, and any man as goes into that water tonight will freeze before he makes the shore.”

“Spoke most accurate,” Silver agreed in his cheerful way.

The rascal had a manner which contrived to invest whatever he said to you--to any one--with the implication that you were the most intelligent person he had ever had to do with and that it was an honor to obey and serve you.

He disappeared aft now, and Bones with him. I heard the latter continuing to shout orders; and there was a constant bustle of men running back and forth over the decks, a clattering of ropes and shrieking of falls and blocks. For-’ard sounded an ordered trampling of feet and a chorus of rough voices bellowing the wild sea-song I had heard in the Whale’s Head Tavern:

“Fifteen men on the Dead Man’s Chest--
Yo-ho-ho, and a bottle of rum!
Drink and the devil had done for the rest--
Yo-ho-ho, and a bottle of rum!”

Corlaer, weak as a rag, sank in a heap of buckskin in a dark corner by the bulwarks.

“_Neen, neen,_” he answered when I would have helped him. “Not’ings, Bob. I get better by and by. Der salt water--it is always so with me.”

“I’ll get you some rum,” I said firmly.

And, rising, I was on the point of seeking the nearest man to ask where a drink might be obtained when footsteps clicked on the deck behind me.

“They are a dangerous company,” said a voice with an unmistakable brogue to it.

“What would you?” returned my great-uncle.

I could imagine the graceful shrug which went with the words.

“We could not employ his Majesty’s people in such a business. And all things considered, my fellows can handle it far better and more expeditiously.”

They passed through the rays of the lanthorn which swung from the mainyard. Aye, the first speaker was Colonel O’Donnell. The little Irish maid! His daughter. My father had been right in his suspicions.

But what could be the tie of interest between a colonel in the Army of the King of Spain and an outlaw who had defied the whole structure of civilization? A Jacobite plot? It seemed preposterous!

“’Tis my daughter I was thinking of,” explained O’Donnell as they reached the starboard gangway close by where I stood over Peter’s prostrate form.

“Ah!”

My great-uncle went through his courtly formula of taking snuff, and I watched him, fascinated.

“Your forebodings do you credit, _chevalier_. But you have no cause for concern. For reasons which I need not go into I have with me here men from the crew of my associate. On board the _Royal James_ I think I may promise you and your daughter all the deference you might receive upon a King’s ship. I will go so far as to say that I have taken steps to secure you additional protection. My great-nephew--and heir--of whom I have spoken to you, sails with me, a fine youth who shall yet make his mark in the world.”

“But a woman on a pirate ship!” protested O’Donnell anew.

“My dear sir, Rule Four of the Code of Articles under which our company is governed--does it surprize you that we have our own laws?--forbids the taking and keeping of women as spoil aboard our ships. We have had experience in the past of the evils which flow in the wake of a struggle for women’s favors.”

“Shall you not flout your own rule if my daughter comes aboard?” pressed the Irishman.

“She will not come as a prisoner, but as a guest,” returned Murray blandly. “After all, colonel, the _Royal James_ is my ship--and in that respect differs from most outlaw craft which are held by the entire crew as a community. No, no; you need not concern yourself.”

“I like it not, I say!” persisted O’Donnell. “Why did you bid me bring her? You were hot for her coming so soon as you heard I had a daughter.”

“Would you have left her by her lone in a strange country?” answered my great-uncle impatiently. “Tut, man, be sensible. Who would suspect a man who had his daughter with him? ’Tis true this enterprise is fraught with danger, but no maid can go through life without sniffing peril. We will guard her as we shall the treasure.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” rapped O’Donnell as he climbed over the bulwarks and felt for the ladder. “I am not proud of myself when I think of her innocence. Holy saints, what a coil! Well, well, no matter. I must be going, for the night wanes.”

“Yes,” assented Murray. “And stir your frigate’s captain to a swift passage.”

The Irishman nodded.

“If necessary we’ll pass by the Havana. Luckily Porto Bello is the _intendente’s_ chief worry. You’ll hover, then, off Moria Passage?”

“Aye, from the south tip of Hispaniola to the north of Porto Rico, save it storms, when we’ll run for shelter in the Bay of Samana, where the old buccaneers were wont to lie. Diego can find us. He has done it before. Just give him ample time.”

“So soon as the _Santissima Trinidad_ has her orders Diego shall know.”

He started to descend and then climbed back.

“She has heavy metal, Murray. Are you certain----”

My great-uncle laughed.

“Be at ease upon that point, _chevalier_. We could take two Spaniards of the _Santissima Trinidad’s_ metal. I fear I must bid you good evening, though. Hark!”

The bell of the Spanish frigate rang out eight times.

“Midnight!” exclaimed O’Donnell. “Can you be gone by dawn?”

“My dear sir,” returned my uncle lightly, “this brig will never be seen again--anywhere--by anybody.”

O’Donnell shivered.

“Good night,” he said abruptly, and his head vanished behind the bulwarks.

I heard the rattle of oars, a low order in Spanish, the steady splash and spatter of rowers as the boat pulled away. My great-uncle watched it for a moment, then turned toward where I stood.

“Well, Nephew Robert, what did you make of us?” he inquired.

I contrived to keep my voice level, for I would not give him the satisfaction of supposing he had startled me.

“That you are engaged in deeper villainy even than my father feared.”

“You have a narrow-minded view of life,” he remarked. “However, ’tis a defect can be remedied by experience. By the way, do not jump to conclusions from what you overheard. You shall have the whole tale anon, but until you possess a more intimate knowledge of the situation you are better off in ignorance.”

“I am no pirate, nor shall I be.”

“Why make hasty statements, Robert?”

A hail came from Bones for’ard.

“Anchor a-cat, captain!”

“Very good, Master Bones,” replied my great-uncle. “You may trip, and we will make all sail, if you please.”

“Aye, aye, captain.”

Peter groaned dolefully at the fateful words, and Murray stepped closer.

“What is that beside you, Robert?” he asked quickly. “Did our good friend Peter come to harm?”

“The water’s motion sickens him.”

“Ah! Strange how the strongest men succumb to it. We will have him carried below. I should have told you before this that I design to make you both as comfortable as possible. You berth aft with me. On the brig I can offer you very limited hospitality, but on the _Royal James_ you shall have the comforts of an admiral.”

“I want no comforts,” I answered coldly. “Any comforts you may offer me would be a mockery. My very being here is a discomfort most insufferable.”

He stiffened.

“’Sdeath, sirrah! Bear in mind that I am your elder in years and deserving of respect for my relationship.”

“To me you are a singularly bloody pirate, and that is all.”

“The injustice of youth!” he commented evenly. “I was the uncle and tender guardian of the mother you never knew, Robert.”

“I share my father’s feelings upon that point,” I cried, and raised my hand in a threatening gesture.

He did not stir.

“Your conversion will be quite as difficult as I had foreseen,” he said. “No, you would gain naught by striking me. Impartially I may recommend you to adopt an attitude which will secure you the maximum of liberty and opportunity. Of what avail for you to force yourself into confinement?”

“Sir,” I returned, “be convinced of this: The day you attack a defenseless ship I will slay as many of you as I can and contentedly die.”

It has a sound of theatricalism now, but I meant it at the time.

“I purpose nothing of that sort for you,” answered my great-uncle. “And while I am tempted to argue you out of a position founded upon a false ethical basis, I shall content myself with the observation that you would do well to hold your temper in leash until you find a need for its employment.”

He glanced overside.

“I see we are under way. I must ask you to excuse me for the present, Robert. I am constrained to serve as pilot.”

He raised his little silver whistle, and its shrill call fetched several of the crew aft.

“Aye, aye, captain.” It was Bones. “What’s your wish, sir?”

“Have this poor fellow--” Murray gestured toward Corlaer’s recumbent form--“carried to one of the staterooms. Use him gently. Bid the Irish boy--what’s his name? Oh, Darby!--bid Darby tend him and fetch him what he requires.

“This gentleman, here--” he indicated me--“is my great-nephew, Master Bones. It may be he will succeed me in command of the _Royal James_ some day, although he is not with us of his own wish as yet. He is to have complete freedom except he undertake to achieve aught to our disadvantage. Pass the word to the men, if you please.”

“That’s a queer lay,” growled Bones. “Is he friend or enemy, captain?”

“An intelligent question,” replied my great-uncle. “We may call him an enemy who is to be treated as nearly as possible as a friend.”

“Blasted if I see any sense in it,” affirmed Bones. “But whatever you says, captain.”

“Exactly,” said my great-uncle.

And to me he added:

“Oblige yourself, Robert. There is a berth waiting for you, or you may remain on deck and take a lesson in seamanship.”

I cast my eye astern at the lights of New York, so low, so scattered, already so far away.

“I’ll go below and do what I may for Peter,” I decided.

“As you choose,” responded my extraordinary relative, and walked aft.

“Stir your stumps, ye lousy swabs,” roared Bones to his men. “Hitch on to this here land-whale. ---- my lights and gizzard if I ever see such a monstrous heap o’ human flesh! We’d oughter take him to the South Seas and sell him to the canneybals. That’s all he’s good for. Come on, young gentleman, you may be the captain’s nevvy or by-blow or whatever ’twas he called ye, but everybody works on this ship. Lend a hand.”

I obeyed him in silence, while he and the others cursed and blasphemed with a fluency defying description. What a company! Except in Murray’s presence they owned no discipline, accepted no restraint. Palpably they hated as well as feared him, and I found myself wondering how secure a hold he had upon their passions. Let them once cast off the spell of his magnetism and superior wickedness, and they would become so many irresponsible agents of lust and destruction.

I shuddered and was glad of the hooded cabin-lamp as we stowed Peter’s limp body into the constricted space of a bunk; gladder still when they tramped away and left me alone with the Dutchman.

Through a porthole the lights of New York winked farewell to me. I was as frightened as a child by himself for the first time in the dark.