Chapter IV: Strange Story of a Stolen Diamond

Having perfect faith in the wisdom and seamanship of Archie Webber his first mate, Antonio had left him in London to pick and choose the crew, merely premising that the hands engaged should be good men and true, hardy, healthy, and capable of going anywhere and doing anything.

“So long,” said the little skipper, “as they have these good qualities, I care little what nationality they belong to.”

A crew of about forty is of course far too many for even a large barque, but Antonio needed workmen as well as sailors.

So, the crew was a very mixed one. There were English, Scotch, and Irish, Frenchmen and Finns.

These last are hardy, bold seamen, but not always to be trusted. The Dane also who used to help to man the sloop in Fisherton Bay had been kept on. Now many of those men, although excellent sailors, had been reduced by drink to mere dock loafers. They took care to be sober and smartly dressed, however, when they presented themselves before first mate Webber, and asked for a billet.

Webber questioned them, it is true; and if they stood the cross-examination, they were permitted to sign articles and join the ship.

One day an East Indian presented himself. He was tall, lithe, and smart, though there was a look in his eye that Webber hardly liked. He had been, he said, much at sea, as Lascar and even mate of an Englishman. Cross-questioned, and put to the test on board, he turned out to be really a master hand; so, despite his furtive looks, and a kind of tiger gleam that seldom or never left his dark eyes, the mate engaged him.

He thanked him profoundly, seized his hand, bent down, and pressed it to his brow.

The mate said, “Humbug!” pretty smartly, and Dungloo, as he called himself, retired, smiling, with gratitude--apparently.

This man was rather a picturesque figure on board the _Zingara_, for he was permitted to wear his native Indian dress and turban, for which latter a skull-cap was substituted when he was on duty.

He worked like a hero when on deck, but in the stormy weather off the Cape, and among the ice, he collapsed.

But now the warm weather brought him forth once more, as it brings the red admiral butterfly that has slumbered in some cosy cranny all the weary winter through.

Dungloo was once more his hardy, strong, athletic self.

* * * * *

Now in this lonesome ocean, so far away from the route of trading ships, there was little to be feared during the night; the man at the wheel had just to keep his course, and keep the sails from shivering; so during the midnight watch the officer would often go forward, and yarn and smoke with the men around the bows.

One night in the dark week, that is, when the moon is in her last quarter, Paddy M‘Koy’s watch relieved the mate’s at midnight, and the others were soon sound asleep in bunk or hammock.

About two bells, there being nothing to do, Paddy went forward and joined the men. He was a right merry fellow, this Paddy M‘Koy, and he soon had them all laughing and listening to his yarns, which were now and then interlarded with snatches of rollicking Irish songs.

It was as good as a play, every one allowed, to hear the second mate spin a yarn.

A little past two bells, no one noticed a stalwart figure, muffled up in a dark cloak, come up through the half-deck companion and descend to the saloon.

The night was close and warm, and Antonio had been strangely restless.

The candle burned in jimbles at his head, and he had been reading.

But at last he had dropped off.

He always slept with a loaded revolver, not under his pillow, but by his side. A sturdy, short little weapon it was, but capable of carrying a bullet through a three-inch board, and doing mischief afterwards.

The captain’s dreams were uneasy.

He awoke with a start at last, for a hand had touched his shoulder.

To his horror, he saw the form of the tiger-eyed Dungloo standing by his bedside, with a glittering dagger in his hand, the hand quivering, as if with eagerness to plunge the fearful weapon into the captain’s throat or heart.

It was a terrible moment, but Antonio Garcia never moved, nor once lost his presence of mind.

“Dungloo!” he said, “you here!”

“Dungloo is here.”

Both men talked in the Hindustani language.

“Antonio Garcia, attempt but to move, attempt but to shout, and the next breath you breathe will be your last.”

“But what does it mean, Dungloo? Mutiny or murder?”

“It means both, if it be pleasing in your sight.”

“Dungloo, you are a fool or a madman. What is it you require, and why would you slay me?”

“The captain is brave, he quails not. Dungloo will tell the captain what he requires. If he is obeyed, his life will be spared, on one condition, that he keeps this interview a secret.

“See,” he continued, “if I _have_ to murder you, I can cause it to appear but suicide. Ha! Ha! None saw me come here; none will see me go. You will be found dead in bed to-morrow with your own blood-smeared knife in your clay-cold hand.”

“Horrible!”

“True; but I must do my duty to the priests of my temple. I am a Thug.”

“A hired assassin!”

“Put it that way if so minded. I am a Thug, and my duty is to obtain the talismanic diamond you stole from the eye of the god.”

“You lie, Dungloo; it was not I who took the prize; nor was it theft, but loot.”

“But your brother stole it, and smashed the idol, and it came into your possession. Your brother is in that same temple-dungeon now. His companions are the rats, the gecko-lizards, slimy toads, and centipedes. Ha! ha! You tremble. But time presses. Quick, the diamond, or you are a dead man.”

“I have known for years,” said Antonio, as if to gain time, “where my dear, dear brother lies. Please God he shall yet be free.”

The tiger-gleam in the man’s eye was fierce now. The hand that held the twisted dagger quivered rather than shook; his white, clenched teeth gleamed like alabaster.

“Death or the diamond?” he cried once more. “Death or the diamond--I care not which!”

From under the sheet that covered Antonio came the crack of a revolver.

Dungloo tossed up his arms with a gasping scream, and fell in a heap on the floor.

The trampling sound of footsteps was heard on deck a minute after, and down below rushed the second mate, and the first mate was awakened and joined him.

“Mates,” said Antonio, “I have shot that fellow Dungloo. He attempted to murder me with the dagger that lies by his side. He is a Thug, and was specially commissioned by priests in India to murder me, or get possession of a talismanic diamond that my brother took as booty while the town of L---- was being looted by our soldiers, after a victory during the terrible Indian Mutiny.”

“Get men to take him forward. Is he dead?”

“He is dead enough, bedad! and sarve him roight,” said Paddy. “Oh, sir, but it is you that has had the nasty shave!”

The body of the dead Thug was taken forward to the fo’cs’le head, and a tarpaulin thrown over it.

When the sun was glimmering red across the sea, tingeing the waves a deep blood-red, the body of the Thug was laid on a grating; and just as Paddy M‘Koy said the words, “May the Good Father have mercy on his soul,” the grating was tilted, and with a sullen plash the body sank beneath the waves.

And so ended this sad tragedy!

Strangely enough, although bunked in the cabin or state-room adjoining the captain’s, both Miss Leona and little Teenie slept soundly all the night, and heard nothing.

There was a feeling of relief in every heart apparently, now that the murdering Thug was no more. The mate Archie Webber had always suspected and feared the man, and never could forgive himself for having taken him on board.

Antonio, too, seemed happier than ever; but the strangest thing remains to be told. Although he did not appear at breakfast, having had a cup of tea brought him by the fat boy, Johnnie Smart, the captain was well to the fore at the one o’clock dinner. But now, instead of wearing that weird uncanny eye in his head that used to jerk about and cut such strange cantrips, he wore a glass eye of the usual dimensions, one you could not have known from the other, nor pronounced glass at all. It was of exactly the same colour as its fellow, and followed its every movement.

Daft little Teenie was the first to note the marvellous change for the better. To think was to act with Teenie.

She sprung on his knee, and threw her arms around his neck.

“Oh, Captain ’Tonio,” she cried, “your eye has growed small, and good, and pretty, just like the other. Did God make it better?”

“Yes, dearie.”

“Well, you is quite bootiful now!”

“You _are_,” said Miss Leona.

“Yes, you _are_ quite bootiful, Captain ’Tonio.”

* * * * *

The story of Antonio Garcia’s glass eye may be told in a few words. He communicated it himself to Barclay and Davie next evening, while all alone in the saloon, and in the following words:--

“During the awful massacres that took place in India after the Mutiny had fairly broken out, I and my brother were merchants in L----. We talked like natives and dressed as such, we even pretended to adopt the religion of the country. This saved us; but the scenes we witnessed in that doomed country will haunt me till my dying day.

“After the relief arrived, there was a considerable deal of looting done by our soldiers, and also by European civilians who had escaped slaughter. My dear brother, who is younger than I, did smash the idol in the temple, and extract its eye, a splendid diamond of the first water.

“I had several glass eyes. One that I have worn for years, was a bungled job. It had been made by a native. But in this I concealed the talismanic diamond.

“My brother’s house and mine were attacked soon after, ransacked, and finally burned; and after being searched in vain, I was turned adrift, half naked, to begin the world again. I was very young then, but determined never to part with that diamond, which, strange to say, is worth several thousand pounds.

“I thought my brother dead, but for years I have known where he is imprisoned; and doubtless, boys, if we live to get home again, I will find out a plan to restore him to myself and his friends in England and in Spain. Money can do much.”

“And what did you do next?” said Barclay.

“I went to sea, dearie, and my life has been one long string of wild adventures ever since.

“But I managed to make money enough, without selling the diamond, to fit out this expedition; and before I return I shall have made a fortune, for I know where the pearls lie in thousands.

“I know the natives and their customs, and manners too, right well, and though many islands are inhabited by cannibals, they are willing to work for coloured cotton and for beads; and so, dearies, you will see what you shall see.”

“And that awful Thug, sir, was he really a detective sent by the priests to murder you?”

“He was, boy. But--my day hadn’t come.

“And, look, here is the diamond.” So splendid a gem the boys had never seen before. They were amazed at its brilliancy, even in the sunlit saloon.

But Antonio took them into the dark storeroom, and here its lustre and gleam were increased tenfold.

“You see, boys,” he said, “I’m a little bit superstitious myself, and I believe that what brought luck to those priests has brought luck to me. And so I mean to keep it for a time.”

* * * * *

He further informed the boys that they were not on any account to divulge what they had been told.

They promised, and faithfully kept their word. Now something curious occurred.

Dungloo’s box was a very small one, and he kept his clothes in a bag. The latter were thrown overboard as a dainty morsel for the sharks, but the little box was sent aft to the captain’s cabin.

No key being found, he broke it open with a chisel.

Here were many strange amulets, little idol stones, &c., a copy of a portion of the Koran, and a log-book, giving an account of how he--the Thug--had shadowed Antonio for more than a year, without having a single chance of attacking him, but stating that he would sail with him in the _Zingara_ to southern seas, and would, doubtless, obtain possession of the talisman, and bring it or send it.

But Antonio had occasion to open his eyes with astonishment when he found an exact _facsimile_ of the brilliant in a tiny box, and with it a letter. This letter was in Hindustani, and brief. “I have slain Antonio,” it ran, “and rescued the diamond; but I have been stabbed and put on shore on the American coast to die. I am going fast. See to my wife and little ones. A faithful black will post the case and diamond. Adieu! for ever.”

_But this so-called diamond was paste._

There were other idols in the temple that had been hidden, and so escaped during the general looting. These had eyes of precisely the same kind and cutting as the one in Antonio’s possession. So the Thug had one copied in paste.

It was evident enough then that this brutal Thug was not only a professional murderer, but a rogue and vagabond as well. He had meant to keep the real diamond, and send to the ignorant priests that composed of paste.

And this was precisely what Antonio did on the very first opportunity. He enclosed, not only the spurious diamond, but the Thug’s letter as well.

Thus ends for a time the story of Antonio’s diamond. He need now no longer fear the vengeance of the priests, or their hired assassins, the bloodthirsty Thugs.

* * * * *

If there was any one more happy than another on board the good ship _Zingara_, I think it was Teenie herself.

The glorious weather and the sunshine acted like a special stimulant on her. She was here, there, and everywhere on deck and below, with her monkeys or pet cat.

She had grown browner, but this only added to her innocent and childish beauty.

A curious effect of this latter was felt by--why, whom do you think?--the fat boy, Johnnie Smart.

Johnnie had fallen head over heels in love with pretty Teenie.

Whenever she came towards him, he held back his head, and laughed with joy, while his little funny eyes disappeared entirely, for Johnnie was getting fatter and fatter every week. Sometimes, while bringing things aft on a tray, if Teenie popped suddenly up, he was sure to drop a plate or two.

He brought Teenie raisins, lumps of sugar, a skipping-rope which he had made himself, and a picture-book his grandmother had given him before he started from home.

Once he went so far as to say--

“I likes you, Teenie, I does, more’n honey. You is so nice-like, and you is just pretty enough to be framed and hung above the mantelpiece. Yes, you is a swatcher, Teenie. If ye up and told me to throw stones at my grandmother, blow me tight if I would not ’ave a shy at the old lady.”

Teenie was silent. Flattery was not altogether displeasing to the saucy little maiden.

Encouraged by her silence, the boy continued:--

“Which, Teenie, some fine mornin’ I’ll find myse’f a sea-captain on a big ship, and then I’ll ax ye to be my old ’oman, and we’ll sail the blue seas over and over, and you’ll never want lollipops and sweets.”

“Which, Teenie----”

The look of disdain, and the merry laugh of Teenie as she went running after pussy, put a speedy end to Johnnie’s wooing.

And it was never resumed.

That day Johnnie went below with a finger in his mouth, and looking very done indeed.

“Girls is curous critters,” he said to himself. “Ah! I don’t think there’s much to beat an old mother arter all.”