Wolves of the Sea - Randall Parrish
The alarm was sounded none too soon. Either fortune, or skill had
served those demons well. Gliding silently through the obscuring
cloud, hanging in dense folds of vapor to the water surface, propelled
and guided by a single oar, used cautiously as a paddle, they had
succeeded in circling the stern of the _Santa Marie_, unseen and
unheard by anyone aboard. Not even the girl, unconscious of the
possibility of approaching danger from that quarter, her attention
diverted elsewhere, had her slightest suspicion aroused as they glided
noiselessly alongside, and made fast beneath the protection of the
after-chains. One by one, moving like snakes, the devils passed
inboard to where they could survey the seemingly deserted deck. Some
slight noise awoke her to their presence, yet, even as she shrieked
the sudden alarm, a hand was at her throat, and she was struggling
desperately in the merciless grip of a half-naked Indian.
Yet at that they were too late, the advantage of surprise had failed
them. A half dozen had reached the deck, leaping from the rail, the
others below clambering after their leaders, when with a rush, we met
them. It was a fierce, mad fight, fist and club pitted against knife
and cutlass, but the defenders knowing well the odds against them,
angered by the plight of the girl, realizing that death would be the
reward of defeat, struck like demons incarnate, crushing their
astounded antagonists back against the bulwark. I doubt if the
struggle lasted two minutes, and my memory of the scene is but a
series of flashes. I heard the blows, the oaths, the cries of pain,
the dull thud of wood against bone, the sharp clang of steel in
contact, the shuffling of feet on the deck, the splash of bodies
hurled overboard. These sounds mingle in my mind with the flash of
weapons, the glare of infuriated eyes, the dark, savage faces. Yet it
was all confusion, uproar, mingling of bodies, and hoarse shouts. Each
man fought for himself, in his own way. I thought only of her, and
leaped straight for her assailant with bare hands, smashing
recklessly through the hasty guard of his cutlass, ignorant that he
had even struck me, and gripped the copper devil by hair and throat. I
knew she fell to the deck, beneath our feet, but I had my work cut out
for me. He was a hell-hound, slippery as an eel in his half nakedness,
strong as an ox, and fighting like a fiend. But for that first lucky
grip I doubt my killing him, yet I had him foul, my grip unbreakable,
as I jerked and forced his neck back against the rail, until it
cracked, the swarthy body sliding inert to the deck. Whirling to
assist the others, assured of the fellow's helplessness, I found no
need. Except for bodies here and there the deck was clear, men were
struggling in the chains; two below in the boat were endeavoring to
cast off, and Schmitt, with Estevan helpless in his arms, staggered to
the side, and flung the shrieking Spanish cur overboard out into the
dark water. I heard the splash as he fell, the single cry his lips
gave, but he never again appeared above the surface. Above the bedlam
Watkins roared out an order.
"That's it, bullies! that's it! Now let her drop! We'll send them to
hell where they belong. Good shot; she landed!"
It was the hank of a spare anchor, balanced for an instant on the
rail, then sent crashing down through the frail bottom of the boat
beneath. The wreck drifted away into the fog, the two miserable
occupants clinging desperately to the gunwales. I lifted Dorothy to
her feet, and she clung to me unsteadily, her face yet white.
"Is it all over? Have they been driven off?"
"Yes, there is nothing more to fear from them. Were you injured?"
"Not--not seriously; he hurt me terribly, but made no attempt to use
his cutlass. I--I guess I was more frightened than anything else.
Is--is the man dead?"
"If not, he might as well be," I answered, glancing at the body; but
not caring to explain. "It was no time for mercy when I got to him.
Watkins."
"Ay, ay, sir."
"Have you figured up results?"
"Not fully, sir; two of our men are cut rather badly, and Cole hasn't
come too yet from a smart rap on the head."
"None got away?"
He grinned cheerfully.
"Not 'less they swum; thar's six dead ones aboard. Four took ter the
water, mostly because they hed too. The only livin' one o' the bunch
is thet nigger 'longside the wheel, an' nuthin' but a thick skull
saved him."
"Then there were eleven in the party. What do you suppose has become
of the others aboard the _Namur_?"
He shook his head, puzzled by the question.
"I dunno, sir; they might be a waitin' out there in the fog. Perhaps
the nigger cud tell you."
I crossed over to where the fellow sat on a grating, his head in his
hands, the girl still clinging to my sleeve, as though fearful of
being left alone. The man was a repulsive brute, his face stained with
blood, dripping from a cut across his low forehead. He looked up
sullenly at our approach, but made no effort to rise.
"What's your name, my man?" I asked in Spanish.
"Jose Mendez, Senor." "You were aboard the _Namur_?"
He growled out an answer which I interpreted to signify assent, but
Watkins lost his temper.
"Look yere, you black villain," he roared, driving the lesson home
with his boot "don't be a playin' possum yer. Stand up an' answer
Mister Carlyle, or yer'll git a worse clip than I give yer afore. Whar
is the bloody bark?"
"Pounding her heart out on the rocks yonder," he said more civilly,
"unless she's slid off, an' gone down."
"Wrecked? Where?"
"Hell, I ain't sure--what's west frum here?"
"Off our port quarter."
"Then that's 'bout where she is--maybe a mile, er so."
"What about the crew?"
"They got away in the boats, an' likely mostly are ashore. We were in
the last boat launched, an' headed out so far ter get 'round a ledge
o' rocks, we got lost in the fog. Then the mist sorter opened, an'
give us a glimpse o' yer topsails. Manuel was for boarding you right
away, and the rest of us talked it over, and thought it would be all
right. We didn't expect no fight, once we got aboard."
"Expected to find something easy, of course? Perhaps it would have
been if you fellows in the boat had held your tongues. By any chance,
do you know now who we are?"
He rolled his eyes toward Watkins, and then at Schmitt engaged in some
job across the deck.
"Those two used to be on the _Namur_," he said, his tone again
sullen. "Are you the fellers who locked us in between decks?"
"We are the ones, Jose. You were up against fighting men when you came
in over our rail. What is it you see out there, Harwood?"
The seaman, who was standing with hollowed hands shading his eyes,
staring forth into the swirling drapery of fog, turned at my call, and
pointed excitedly.
"There's a bark aground yonder, sir; and by God, it looks like the
_Namur_!"
Even as I crossed the deck to his side, eagerly searching the
direction indicated, the wreaths of obscuring mist seemed to divide,
as though swept apart by some mighty hand, and there in the full glow
of the sun, a picture in a frame, lay the wrecked vessel. Others saw
it as I did, and a chorus of voices gave vent to recognition.
"Damned if it ain't the old hooker!"
"She got what was coming to her all right, mates."
"Maybe that ain't hell, bullies! And she's lousy with treasure!"
"Come here, Sam! That's the last of the _Namur_."
CHAPTER XXXII
THE LAST OF THE NAMUR
Even from where we were, looking across that stretch of water, yet
obscured by floating patches of mist, the vessel was plainly a total
wreck, rapidly pounding to death on a sharp ledge of rock. Both masts
were down, and, lifted as the bow was, it was easy to perceive the
deck was in splinters, where falling spars and topmasts had crashed
their way through. She must have struck the ledge at good speed, and
with all sail set, for the canvas was overside, with much of the
top-hamper, a horrible mess, tossed about in the breakers, broken ends
of spars viciously pounding against the ship's side. The bows had
caught, seemingly jammed in between rocks, the stern sunk deep, with
cabin port holes barely above reach of the waves. It seemed probable
that any minute the whole helpless mass might slide backward into the
water, and be swept away. Not a living thing appeared on board, and,
as the fog slowly drifted away, my eyes could discern no sign of any
boat, no evidence of the crew, along the wide sweep of water. Little,
by little, as the vista widened, and we still remained, watching the
miserable wreck as though fascinated, we were able to distinguish the
dark line of coast to the westward, and to determine that the
unfortunate _Namur_ had struck at the extremity of a headland, whose
rocky front had pushed its way far out to sea. A voice not far
distant aroused me.
"What was it you said Jack 'bout treasure on the old hooker? Hell, if
it's there, why not get it afore it's too late?"
"It's thar, all right, Ole," and I knew the speaker to be Haines.
"Ain't it, Mr. Carlyle?"
"Yes, lads, there must be money on board, unless those fellows took it
with them in the boats. I know of fifty thousand pounds stolen in
Virginia, and no doubt there is more than that."
"Perhaps they took the swag along with 'em, sir."
"That wouldn't be the way I'd figure it," broke in Watkins. "That
nigger says the boat what attacked us was the last one ter git away,
an' thar wa'n't no chest in her." If Manuel didn't stay aboard long
'nough ter git his fingers outer thet gold, none ov the others did.
They wus so damned anxious to save their lives, they never thought ov
nuthin' else, sir."
"But maybe they'll think about that later, an' cum back," insisted
Haines, pressing forward. "Ain't that right, sir?"
"Right enough; only they will not have much time to think it over,
from the look of things out there," I answered. "The bark is liable to
slide off that rock any minute, and go down like a stone. What do you
say, bullies? Here is a risky job, but a pocket full of gold pieces,
if we can get aboard and safely off again, Who'll go across with me?"
There was a babel of voices, the men crowding about me, all else
forgotten as the lust of greed gripped their imaginations.
"Stand back, lads! I cannot use all of you. Four will be enough. I
choose Haines, Harwood, Ole Hallin and Pierre. Lower that starboard
quarter-boat you four, and see to the plugs and oars. No Watkins, I
want you to remain in charge here. There is plenty to do; get those
bodies overboard first, and clean up this litter; then shake out the
reef in the foresail, and stand by--there is wind coming from that
cloud yonder, and no time to waste. You'll not lose anything of what
we bring back; it'll be share and share alike, so fall too, hearties."
"Shall we lower away, sir?"
"Ay, if all is fast I'll be with you in a minute; get aboard, Ole, and
ward her off with a boat hook; easy now, till she takes water."
I paused an instant to speak to Dorothy, seated on the flag locker,
explaining to her swiftly my object in exploring the wreck, and
pledging myself not to be reckless in attempting to board. I read fear
in her eyes, yet she said nothing to dissuade me, and our hands
clasped, as I led her to the side, where she could look down at the
cockleshell tossing below.
"It will mean much if we can recover this pirate hoard," I whispered,
"freedom, and a full pardon, I hope."
"Yes, I know, Geoffry; but do not venture too much. You are more to me
than all the gold in the world."
"I shall not forget, sweetheart. The sky and sea are almost clear now,
and you can watch us from here. In a short time we shall be safely
back again."
I slipped down a rope, and dropped into the boat, taking my place
with a steering oar at the stern, and we shot away through the green
water. The men yet lined the rail watching us enviously, although
Watkins' voice began roaring out orders. Dorothy wraved her hand,
which I acknowledged by lifting my cap. The schooner, with her sharp
cutwater and graceful proportions made so fair a sea picture, outlined
against the blue haze, I found it difficult to remove my gaze, but
finally my thought concentrated on the work ahead, and I turned to
urge the oarsmen to a quicker stroke.
The distance was greater than I had supposed it to be from the deck of
the _Santa Marie_, nor did the dark cloud slowly poking up above the
sea to the southeast ease my anxiety to get this task over with,
before a storm broke. The _Namur_ proved to be a more complete wreck
than our distant view had revealed, and lying in a more precarious
position. While the sea was not high, or dangerous, beyond the
headland, the charging billows there broke in foam and were already
playing havoc with the stranded vessel, smashing great spars,
entangled amid canvas and cordage, about so as to render our approach
extremely perilous. We were some time seeking a place where we might
make fast, but finally nosed our way in behind the shelter of a huge
boom, held steady by a splinter of rock, until Harwood got the hank of
his boat hook in the after-chains, and hung on. It was no pleasant job
getting aboard, but ordering Haines to accompany me, and the others to
lie by in the lee of the boom, I made use of a dangling backstay, and
thus hauled myself up to a reasonably secure footing. The fellow
joined me breathless, and together we perched on the rail to gain
view of the deck.
It was a distressing, hopeless sight, the vessel rising before us like
the roof of a house, the deck planks stove in, a horrible jumble of
running rigging, booms and spars, blocking the way forward. Aft it was
clearer, the top-hamper of the after mast having fallen overboard,
smashing a small boat as it fell, but leaving the deck space free.
There were three bodies tangled in the wreckage within our sight,
crushed out of all human resemblance, and the face of a negro, caught
beneath the ruins of the galley, seemed to grin back at me in death.
Every timber groaned as the waves struck, and rocked the sodden mass,
and I had no doubt but that the vessel had already broken in two. I
heard Haines utter an oath.
"By God, sir, did you ever see the like! She can't hang on here."
"Not, long surely," I admitted. "A bit more sea, and she breaks into
kindling wood. If there is any salvage aboard, my man, it will be done
in the next twenty minutes."
"There is no hope o' gittin' forrard, sir--look at that damn litter,
an'--an' them dead men."
"It isn't forward we need to go, Haines; it's aft into the cabin, and
that seems a clear enough passage--only the water down there may be
too deep. Let's make a try of it."
He was evidently reluctant, but sailor enough to follow as I lowered
myself to the deck, clinging hard to keep my footing on the wet
incline. A light spar had lodged here, and by making this a species of
bridge, we crept as far as the companion, the door of which was open,
and gained view of the scene below. The light was sufficient to reveal
most of the interior. From the confusion, and dampness the entire
cabin had evidently been deluged with water, but this had largely
drained away, leaving a mass of wreckage behind, and a foot or two
still slushing about the doors of the after staterooms. It was a
dismal hole in the dim light, more like a cave than the former
habitation of men, but presented no obstacle to our entrance, and I
led the way down the stairs, gripping the rail to keep from falling.
Haines swore as he followed, and his continual growling got upon my
nerves.
"Stop that infernal noise!" I ordered, shortly, looking him savagely
in the face. "I've had enough of it. You were wild to come on this
job; now do your work like a man. Try that room door over there; slide
down, you fool, the water isn't deep. Wait a minute; now give me a
hand."
"Is the gold in here, sir?" he asked with interest.
"More than likely; this was the Captain's room. See if it was left
locked."
The door gave, but it required our combined efforts to press it open
against the volume of water, slushing about within. While the stern
port was yet slightly above the sea level, the crest of breaking waves
obscured the glass, leaving the interior darker than the outer cabin.
For a moment my eyes could scarcely recognize the various objects, as
I clung to the frame of the door, and stared blindly about in the
gloom. Then slowly they assumed shape and substance. Screwed to the
deck the furniture retained its place, but everything else was jammed
in a mass of wreckage, or else floating about in a foot of water,
deepening toward the stern. There were two chests in the room, one of
which I instantly recognized as that of Roger Fairfax. The sight of
this made me oblivious to all else, urged on as I was, by a desire to
escape from the doomed wreck as soon as possible.
"There's the chest we want Haines," I cried, pointing it out. "Have
the lads back the boat up to this port; then come down, and help me
handle it."
He did not answer, or move; and I whirled about angrily.
"What is the matter with you? Did you hear what I said?"
"Yes, sir," his voice trembling, "but--but isn't that a man over
there--in the bunk? Good God, sir; look at him!"
The white, ghastly face stared at us, looking like nothing human in
that awful twilight. I actually thought it a ghost, until with
desperate effort, the man lifted himself, clinging with gaunt fingers
to the edge of the bunk. Then I knew.
"Sanchez! You! those damn cowards left you here to die!"
"No one came for me," he answered, choking so the words were scarcely
intelligible. "Is that what has happened; the bark is wrecked; the
crew gone?"
"Yes, they took to the boats--Manuel with them."
"Manuel!" his enunciation clearer from passion, "the sneaking cur. But
I cannot see your face; who are you, and what brought you here?"
"I'll tell you frankly, Captain Sanchez," and I stepped closer. "We
risked coming aboard to save that chest--Roger Fairfax's
chest--before it went down. This vessel has its back broken, and may
slide off into deep water at any minute. We must get you out of here
first."
"Get me out!" he laughed hideously. "You pretend to place my safety
ahead of that treasure. To hell with your help. I want none of it. I
am a dead man now, and the easiest way to end all, will be to go down
with the ship--'twill be a fit coffin for Black Sanchez. By God! I
know you now--Geoffry Carlyle?"
"Yes, but an enemy no longer."
"That is for me to say. I hate your race, your breed, your cursed
English strain. The very sound of your name drives me mad. I accept no
rescue from you! Damn you, take your gold and go."
"But why?" I insisted, shocked at the man's violence. "I have done you
no ill. Is it because I interfered between you and Dorothy Fairfax?"
He laughed again, the sound so insane Haines gripped my sleeve in
terror.
"That chit! bah, what do I care for her but as a plaything. No, my
hate runs deeper than that. How came you here--in the boat stolen from
the _Namur_?"
"No Captain Sanchez. The day after we left the ship, we boarded a
schooner found adrift, the crew stricken with cholera, with not a man
left alive on deck, or below. She lies yonder now."
"A schooner! What name?"
"The _Santa Marie_--a slaver."
"Merciful God!" and his eyes fairly blazed into mine, as he suddenly
forced his body upward in the bunk. "The _Santa Marie_ adrift! the
crew dead from cholera? And the Captain--Paradilla, Francis
Paradilla----what of him?"
"He lay alone on a divan in the cabin--dead also."
He tried to speak, but failed, his fingers clawing at his throat. When
he finally gained utterance once more, it was but a whisper.
"Tell me," he begged, "there was no woman with him?"
I stared back into the wild insanity of his eyes, trying to test my
words, suddenly aware that we were upon the edge of tragedy, perhaps
uncovering the hidden secret of this man's life.
"There was no woman," I said gravely, "on deck or in the cabin."
"What mean you by saying that? There was one on board! Don't lie to
me! In an hour I am dead--but first tell me the truth. Does the woman
live?"
"No, she died before. We found her body in a chest, preserved by some
devilish Indian art, richly dressed, and decked with jewels."
"English?"
"I judged her so, but with dark hair and eyes. You knew her?"
"In the name of all the fiends, yes. And I know her end. He killed
her--Paradilla killed her--because she was as false to him as she had
been to me. Hell! but it is strange you should be the one to find
her--to bring me this tale, Geoffry Carlyle!"
"Why? What is it to me?"
"Because she is of your line--do you know her now?" "No; nor believe
it true."
"Then I will make you; 'tis naught to me anymore; for I am dead within
the hour. You go back to England, and tell him; tell the Duke of
Bucclough how his precious sister died."
"His sister! Good God, you cannot mean that woman was Lady Sara
Carlyle?"
"Who should know better than I?" sneeringly. "Once I was called in
England, Sir John Collinswood."
He sank back, exhausted, struggling for breath, but with eyes glowing
hatred. I knew it all now, the dimly remembered story coming vividly
back to memory. Here then was the ending of the one black stain on the
family honor of our race. On this strange coast, three thousand miles
from its beginning, the final curtain was being rung down, the drama
finished. The story had come to me in whispers from others, never even
spoken about by those of our race--a wild, headstrong girl, a secret
marriage, a duel in the park, her brother desperately wounded, and
then the disappearance of the pair. Ten days later it was known that
Sir John Collinswood had defaulted in a large sum--but, from that
hour, England knew him no more. As though the sea had swallowed them
both, man and woman disappeared, leaving no trace behind.
The face I gazed dumbly into was drawn, and white with pain, yet the
thin lips grinned back at me in savage derision.
"You remember, I see," he snarled. "Then to hell with you out of here,
Geoffry Carlyle. Leave me to die in peace. The gold is there; take
it, and my curse upon it. Hurry now--do you hear the bark grate on the
rocks; it's near the end."
CHAPTER XXXIII
BEFORE THE GOVERNOR
The sound startled me; I imagined I heard the keel slipping, yet
before we had reached the door opening on deck, the slight movement
ceased. My hand gripped the frightened Haines.
"Tell them in the boat to do as I said; then come back here."
"My God, sir, she's a goin' down."
"Not for some minutes yet. There are thousands of pounds in that
chest; you've risked life for less many a time. Jump, my man!"
The boat lay in close, bobbing up and down dangerously, yet held
firmly beneath the opened port. Pierre warped her in with a rope's
end, leaving the other two free to receive the box, as we cautiously
passed it out within grasp of their hands. It was heavy enough to tax
the strength of two men to handle it, but of a size and shape
permitting its passage. Sanchez had raised himself again, and clung
there to the edge of the bunk watching us. Even in the darkness caused
by the chest obscuring the port, I felt the insane glare of his eyes
fastened upon me. Once he attempted to speak, but his voice failed
him.
"Now let down easy, lads," I called. "No, place it amidships; get it
even, or you go over. Wrap your line about the thwart, Pierre, and
take a hand. Ay! that's better. Watch out now; we'll drop this
end--Lord, but I thought it was gone! Fix it to ride steady, and stand
by--we'll pass a wounded man out to you!"
I stepped across to Sanchez, slushing through the water, and barely
able to keep my feet. No matter who the brute was, he could not be
left there to die like a rat alone. Willingly, or not, the fellow must
be removed before the bark went down. He saw me coming, and drew back,
his ghastly face like a mask.
"No, you don't--damn you, Carlyle!" he snapped angrily. "Keep your
hands off me. So you want me to die with my neck in a noose, do you?
Well, you'll never see that sight. I was born a gentleman, and, by
God! I'll die like one--and go down with my ship. Get out of here
now--both of you! You won't? Hell's fire, but you will, or else die
here with me! I'll give you a minute to make your choice."
He left no doubt as to his meaning, his purpose. From somewhere
beneath the blanket, the long, black muzzle of a pistol looked
straight into my eyes. The hand holding it was firm, the face fronting
me savagely sardonic.
"I'd like to kill you, Carlyle," he hissed hatefully. "By God, I don't
know why I shouldn't, the devils in hell would laugh if I did--so
don't tempt me too far. Get out of here, damn you! Every time I look
at you I see her face. If you take a step nearer, I pull the
trigger--go!"
I heard Haines scrambling back up the sharp incline of deck, and
realized the utter uselessness of attempting to remain. Any instant
might be our last; the man crazed, and probably dying, would kill me
gladly. He had chosen his fate--what was it to me? I turned, and
worked my way upward to the companion steps, half expecting every
instant to be struck by a bullet from behind. At the door I paused to
glance below; through the semi-darkness I could see his eyes glaring
at me like those of a wild beast.