Wolves of the Sea - Randall Parrish
There was little to be done after the ropes had been coiled away, and
we were fairly out into the broader reaches of the Bay. The wind held
steady, requiring no shifting of canvas, so Sam, having dispatched the
negro below to prepare lunch, and stationed Carr forward as lookout,
called me aft to the wheel. He was a rather pleasant-faced fellow,
yellow as saffron, with rings in his ears, and a wide mouth
perpetually grinning.
"Massa Fairfax he say you real sailorman," he began, looking me over
carefully, with a nod of his head toward the group at the rail. "Dat
so?"
"Yes; I have been a number of years at sea."
"Dat what he say; dat he done bought yer fer dat reason mostly. Ah
reckon den ye kin steer dis boat?"
"I certainly can."
"So? Den Ah's sure goin' fer ter let yer try right now. Yer take hol',
while Ah stand by a bit."
I took his place, grasping the spokes firmly, and he stood aside,
watching every movement closely, as I held the speeding sloop steadily
up to the wind, the spray pouring in over the dipping rail forward.
The grin on his lips broadened.
"What is the course?" I asked curiously.
"'Cross ter dat point yonder--see, whar de lone tree stan's; we done
'round dat 'bout tree hunder' yards out, an' then go straight 'way
north."
"You use no chart?"
He burst into a guffaw, as though the question was a rare joke.
"No, sah; I nebber done saw one."
"But surely you must steer by compass?"
"Dar is a little one somewhar on board, and Ah done ain't seed it fer
mor 'n a yare, Ah reckon. 'Tain't no use enyhow. Whut we steer by is
landmarks. Ah sure does know de Chesapeake. Yer ever bin up de Bay?"
"Yes, twice, but out in the deep water. I suppose you hug along the
west shore. How is the sloop--pretty heavily loaded?"
He nodded, still grinning cheerfully over the ease with which I
manipulated the wheel.
"Chuck full ter de water line; we've done been shovin' things inter
dat hold fer a week past, but she's sure a good sailor. Whut wus it
Massa Roger say yer name wus?"
"Carlyle."
"So he did; don't ever recollect hearin' dat name afore. Ye's one of
dem rebels ober in England?"
"I got mixed up in the affair."
"An' whut dey done give yer?"
"My sentence, you mean--twenty years."
"Lordy! dat's sure tough. Well, I reckon yer done know yer job all
right, so I'll just leave yer here awhile, an' go forrard an' git a
snack. Ain't eat nuthin' fer quite a spell. Ah'll be back afore yer
'round de point yonder."
I was alone at the wheel, the sloop in my control, and somehow as I
stood there, grasping those spokes, the swift boat leaping forward
through the water, leaning recklessly over before the force of the
wind, the numbing sense of helpless servitude left me in a new return
of manhood and responsibility. It was a scene of exhilaration, the
sun, still partially obscured by misty clouds already well down in the
western sky, with the tossing waves of the Bay foam-crested. The
distant headlands appeared spectral and gray through the vapor, while
the waters beyond took on the tint of purple shadows. The _Adele_
responded to the helm gallantly, the spreading canvas above standing
out like a board, a broad wake of white foam spreading far astern. Not
another sail appeared across that troubled surface of waters, not even
a fisherman's boat, the only other vessel visible along our course
being a dim outline close in against that far-away headland toward
which I had been instructed to steer. I stared at this indistinct
object, at first believing it a wreck, but finally distinguishing the
bare masts of a medium-sized bark, evidently riding at anchor only a
few hundred yards off shore.
Satisfied as to this, my glance shifted to our own decks, feeling a
seaman's admiration for the cleanliness of the little vessel, and the
shipshape condition of everything aboard. The decks had more the
appearance of a pleasure yacht, than that of a cargo carrier, although
the broad beam, and commodious hatches bespoke ample storage room
below. Apparently all this hold space had been reserved for the
transportation of goods, the passenger quarters being forward, with
the cook's galley at the foot of the mast. Where the crew slept I was
unable to discern, but they were few in number, and as Sam had
disappeared up a short ladder, and then across the roof of the cabin,
it was highly probable there would be a compact forecastle nestled
between the bows. The blacker negro was busily engaged in the galley,
his figure occasionally visible at the open door, and a column of
black smoke poured out through the tin funnel. The deck planks were
scrubbed white, and the hand-rails had been polished until they
shone.
The three passengers still remained seated together, the men
conversing, and occasionally pointing forth at some object across the
water, but, while I watched the little group, the girl made no
movement, nor attempt at speech. None of them even so much as glanced
toward me, and I felt that, already, I had been dismissed from their
thought, had been relegated to my proper position, had sunken to my
future place as a mere servant. Finally Mistress Dorothy arose to her
feet, and, with a brief word of explanation to her uncle, started
forward in the direction of the cabin. A sudden leap of the boat
caused her to clutch the rail, and instantly Sanchez was at her side,
proffering assistance. They crossed the dancing deck together, his
hand upon her arm, and paused for a moment at the door to exchange a
few sentences. When the Spaniard came back he pointed out to Fairfax
the position of the still distant bark, which however was by this time
plainly revealed off our port quarter. The planter stood up in order
to see better, and then the two crossed the deck to a position only a
few yards from where I stood at the wheel, and remained there, staring
out across the intervening water.
"Surely a strange place in which to anchor, Lieutenant," said Fairfax
at last, breaking the silence, his hand shading his eyes. "Bark
rigged, and very heavily sparred. Seems to be all right. What do you
make of the vessel?"
The Spaniard twisted his moustache, but exhibited little interest,
although his gaze was upon the craft.
"Decidedly Dutch I should say," he answered slowly, "to judge from
the shape of her lines, and the size of her spars. The beggars seem
quite at home there, with all their washing out. Not a usual
anchorage?"
"No, nor a particularly safe one. There are some very heavy seas off
that point at times, and there is no plantation near by. Travers'
place is beyond the bend. We'll put up with him tonight; he owns that
land yonder, but his wharf is several miles up the coast. Damn me,
Sanchez, I believe I 'll hail the fellow, and find out what he is
doing in there."
Sanchez nodded, carelessly striking flint and steel in an effort to
relight a cheroot, and Fairfax turned his head toward me.
"Oh, is that you, Carlyle? Where is Sam?"
"Gone forward, sir, half an hour ago. He decided I was safe."
The planter laughed, with a side glance toward Sanchez, who gave no
sign that he overhead.
"No doubt he was right. Port your helm a little, and run down as close
as seems safe to that fellow out yonder, until I hail him."
"Very well, sir."
We came about slowly, tossed a bit by the heavy swell, the ponderous
boom swinging, and permitting the loosened canvas to flap against the
ropes, until the sloop finally steadied onto the new tack. The
distance to be covered was not great, and in less than ten minutes, we
were drawing in toward the high stern of the anchored vessel. She was
larger than I had thought, a lumping craft for those days, bark
rigged, with lower spars the heaviest I had ever seen. No evidence of
life appeared on board, although everything looked shipshape alow and
aloft, and a rather extensive wash flapped in the wind forward,
bespeaking a generous crew. There was no flag at the mizzen to signify
nationality, yet there was a peculiar touch to the rig which confirmed
in my mind the truth of Sanchez's guess that she was originally Dutch.
A moment later this supposition was confirmed as my eyes made out the
name painted across the stern--NAMUR OF ROTTERDAM.
Fairfax leaned far out across the rail, as we swept in closer, his
eyes searching the stranger's side for some evidence of human presence
aboard, but the Spaniard exhibited no particular interest in the
proceedings, standing motionless, the smoke of the cheroot blown idly
from his mouth, The fellow's face was turned from me, yet I could not
help note the insolence of his attitude, in spite of my occupation at
the wheel. A hundred feet distant, I held the dancing sloop to mere
steerage-way, while Fairfax hailed in a voice which went roaring
across the water like a gun.
"Ahoy, the bark!"
A red-faced man with a black beard thrust his head up above the after
rail, and answered, using English, yet with a faint accent which was
not Dutch. What he looked like below the shoulders could not be
discerned.
"Veil, vat's vanted? Vos anyding wrong?"
"No, not aboard here," returned Fairfax, a bit puzzled at the reply,
"We ran down to see if you were in any trouble. This is a strange
place to anchor. What are you--Dutch?"
The fellow waved his hands in a gesture indicating disgust. "Dat's
eet. Ve're out ov Rotterdam--you see ze name ov ze sheep. But ve not
sail frum thar dis time--no. Ve cum here from ze Barbadoes," he
explained brokenly "wiz cane-sugar, an' hides. Ve vait here for our
agent."
"But why anchor in a place like this? Why not go on up to the wharfs?"
"Vye not? For ziz--I no trust my crew ashore. Zay Vest Indy niggers,
an' vud run avay ven ze chance cum. I know vat zay do."
In spite of my efforts the two vessels were drifting rapidly apart,
and this last explanation came to us over the water in a faint thread
of sound barely discernible. I asked if I should tack back, but
Fairfax shook his head, and in a moment more we were beyond reach of
the voice. Dorothy appeared at the door of the cabin and stood there,
gazing in surprise at the bark, while the moment he caught sight of
her Sanchez went hastily forward, removing his hat with so peculiar a
flourish as he approached as to cause me to notice the gesture.
Fairfax remained beside the rail, staring out across the widening
water, clearly dissatisfied, but finally waved his hand in a command
to me to resume our course. Shortly after he crossed the deck to the
wheel, and stood there beside me, still watchful of the dwindling
vessel already far astern.
"What do you make of her, Carlyle?" he asked finally, turning slightly
to glance at my face. "I believe that fellow lied."
"So do I, sir," I answered promptly. "Whatever else he may be, he's
no peaceful Dutch trader. The bark is Dutch built all right, and no
doubt once sailed out of Rotterdam; but that fellow got his accent
from South Europe."
"Damn me, that's just what I thought."
"Nor is that all, sir. If he was loaded with cane-sugar and hides for
market, he wouldn't be nearly so high out of water. That bark was in
ballast, or I miss my guess. Besides, if he was a trader, where was
his crew? There wasn't a single head popped over the rail while we
were alongside; and that isn't natural. Even a West India nigger has
curiosity. I tell you the men on board that hooker had orders to keep
down."
Fairfax stroked his chin, his eyes shifting from the distant vessel to
Dorothy and Sanchez who were now making their way slowly aft, the
latter grasping the girl's arm, and smirking as he talked rapidly.
"By God! but I believe you are right," he admitted frankly, "although
it had not occurred to me before. There is something wrong there. I'll
tell Travers, and have him send a runner overland to give warning
below."
CHAPTER VI
FAIRFAX SPEAKS WITH ME
Sanchez drew a chair into the slight shade cast by the mainsail, and
induced his reluctant companion to sit down. He remained bending over
her, with his back turned toward us chattering away, although she only
answered in monosyllables, seldom glancing up into his face. With
hands gripping the spokes of the wheel, and my attention concentrated
on the course ahead, I could yet notice how closely Fairfax was
observing the two, with no pleasant expression in his eyes, and,
forgetful that I was merely a servant, I ventured a question.
"You have known Senor Sanchez for some time, sir?"
He started in surprise, yet answered as though the unexpected query
had been merely an echo of his own thoughts.
"No," he admitted frankly. "Indeed I hardly know how it happened that
I invited him to join our party. It seemed natural enough then, but
lately I confess to having taken a dislike to the fellow, and have
begun to imagine that he even pushed his way on me. But," he stopped,
suddenly realizing what he was saying, "why do you ask?"
I was not wholly prepared to say, yet as instantly comprehended the
prompt necessity of advancing some reasonable explanation. There came
to me swiftly, from the sharpness of his question, the paralyzing
knowledge that I was a servant addressing my master.
"Of course it is no business of mine," I confessed, rather lamely,
"who your guests are. I'm sorry I spoke."
"It is altogether too late to say that," he insisted. "Some thought
prompted the inquiry. Go on. See here, Carlyle, you are no nigger or
white thief. I know the difference, and recognize that you are
gentleman born. Because I've bought your services for a term of years,
is no reason why you cannot talk to me like a man. Do you know
anything about this Spaniard?"
"Not very much, sir. He has seen fit to threaten me, on account of
some row he has had with a brother of mine in England."
"In England! The Duke of Bucclough?"
"Yes. I haven't the slightest knowledge of what it was all about, but
evidently our Spanish friend got the worst of it. He planned to buy me
in at the sale; but, fortunately for me, you gained possession ahead
of him."
"Do you mean to say that he told you all this?"
"It came out in a moment of anger."
Fairfax looked at me incredulously.
"See here, Carlyle," he exclaimed bluntly, "I am not questioning your
word, but it is a bit difficult for me to understand why a guest of
mine should indulge in angry controversy with a government prisoner,
sent overseas for sale as an indentured servant. There must have been
some unusual cause. Haven't I a right to know what that cause was,
without using my authority to compel an answer?"
I hesitated, but only for a moment. He undoubtedly was entitled to
know, and besides there was nothing involved I needed to conceal.
"It is my impression, sir, that Mistress Dorothy was the unconscious
cause. She chanced to discover me alone on deck the night before we
landed, and hastened to tell me of your purchase. It was merely an act
of kindness, as we had never spoken together before. We were still
talking across the rope, when Sanchez came out of the cabin, and
joined us. I imagine he may not have liked the interest both you and
the young lady had shown in me since we came aboard. Anyway when he
found us there, he was not in good humor. Mistress Dorothy resented
his language, treated him coldly, and finally departed, leaving him
decidedly angry. He merely vented his spite on me."
"But he said nothing about himself--his motives?"
"Not a word, sir; yet it is plain to be seen that he is deeply
interested in your niece."
Fairfax frowned, ignoring the remark.
"But do you know the man--who he is?"
I shook my head, the memory of Haley flashing into my mind, but as
instantly dismissed as worthless. Fairfax would only laugh at such a
vague suspicion. Yet why should the planter ask me such a question?
Could it be that the Spaniard was equally unknown to himself?
"But if he has quarreled with your brother," he insisted, unsatisfied
"you perhaps know something?"
"I have not seen my brother in years. I doubt if I would know him if
we met face to face. As to this man, my knowledge of him is only what
little I have seen and heard on board the _Romping Betsy_," I answered
soberly. "I confess a prejudice; that I am unable to judge him
fairly. In the first place I do not like his race, nor his kind; but I
did suppose, of course, that, as he was your guest, you considered him
a man worthy your hospitality."
Fairfax's face reddened, and he must have felt the sting of these
words, uttered as they were by the lips of his bondman. I thought he
would turn abruptly away, leaving them unanswered, but he was too much
of a gentleman.
"Carlyle," he said brusquely, "you have touched the exact point--I do
not know. I thought I did, of course, but what has occurred on the
voyage over has led me to doubt. I met Sanchez at the Colonial Club in
London. He was introduced to me by Lord Sandhurst as a wealthy young
Spaniard, traveling for pleasure. It was understood that he brought
letters of introduction to a number of high personages. He knew London
well, enjoyed a wide circle of acquaintances, and we became rather
intimate. I found him companionable and deeply interested in America,
which he said he had never visited. Finally I invited him to accompany
me as a guest on my return."
"He accepted?"
"No, not at once; he doubted if he could break off certain business
engagements in England. Then, at a reception, he chanced to meet my
niece, and, a little later, decided to undertake the voyage. I am
inclined to believe she was the determining factor."
"Very likely," I admitted, deciding now to learn all possible details.
"However, that is not to be wondered at. Mistress Dorothy is an
exceedingly attractive young woman."
The look he gave me was far from pleasant.
"But she is not a girl for any swash-buckling Spaniard to carry off as
prize," he burst out hotly. "God's mercy! Her father would never
forgive me if that happened."
"Never fear," I said dryly, "it is not going to happen."
"Why do you say that?"
"Because I have seen them together, and am not entirely blind, Watch
them now--she scarcely responds to his words."
His eyes rested for a moment on the two, but he only shook his head
moodily.
"No one knows what is in the heart of a woman, Carlyle. Sanchez is
fairly young, handsome in a way, and adventurous. Just the sort to
attract a young girl, and he possesses an easy tongue. More than that,
I have lost faith in him. He is not a gentleman."
"You surely must have reason for those words, sir," I exclaimed in
surprise. "He has revealed to you his true nature during the voyage?"
"Unconsciously--yes. We have had no exchange of words, no controversy.
He is even unaware that I have observed these things. Some were of
very small moment, perhaps unworthy of being repeated, although they
served to increase my doubt as to the man's character. But two
instances remain indelibly stamped on my mind. The first occurred when
we were only three days at sea. It was at night, and the two of us
chanced to be alone, on deck. I was reclining in the shadow of the
flag locker, in no mood for conversation, and he was unaware of my
presence as he tramped nervously back and forth. Suddenly he stopped,
and reached over into the quarter-boat, and when he stood up again he
had the Captain's pet cat in his hands. Before I dreamed of such a
thing he had hurled that helpless creature into the water astern."
"Good God! an act of wanton cruelty."
"The deliberate deed of a fiend; of one who seeks pleasure in
suffering."
"And the other incident? Was that of the same nature?"
"It was not an incident, but a revelation. The fellow is not only,
beneath his pretense of gentleness, a fiend at heart, but he is also a
consummate liar. He led me to believe in London--indeed he told me so
directly--that he was totally unacquainted with America. It is not
true. He knows this entire coast even better than I do. He forgot
himself twice in conversation with me, and he was incautious enough to
speak freely with Captain Harnes. The Captain told me later."
"This begins to sound serious, sir," I said, as he ceased speaking.
"Do you suspect him of any particular purpose in this deceit?"
"Not at present; I can only wait, and learn. As a Spanish naval
officer he may have obtained some knowledge of this coast--but why he
should have deliberately denied the possession of such information is
unexplainable at present. I shall watch him closely, and have told you
these facts merely to put you on guard. I know you to be a gentleman,
Carlyle, even though you are temporarily a servant, and I feel
convinced I can trust in your discretion."
"You certainly can, sir. I appreciate your confidence in me." "Then
keep your eyes and ears open; that's all. Dorothy is calling, and
yonder comes Sam."
We had yet a full hour of daylight, during which little occurred of
special interest. Sam took the wheel, while I ate supper, sitting with
Carr on the deck behind the galley. Fairfax and his guests, were
served at a table within the small cabin, and we had a glimpse of
them, and their surroundings, the table prettily decorated with snowy
linen, and burnished silver, while John, in a white jacket, waited
upon them obsequiously, lingering behind his master's chair. The
Lieutenant seemed in excellent humor, laughing often, and talking
incessantly, although it occurred to me the man received scant
encouragement from the others. After taking back to the galley my
emptied pewter dish, and not being recalled aft to the wheel, I was
glad to hang idly over the rail, watching the shore line slip past,
and permit my thoughts to drift back to my conversation with Fairfax.
Carr soon joined me, rather anxious to continue our talk, and ask
questions, but not finding me particularly responsive, finally
departed forward, leaving me alone.
The sun by this time was rapidly sinking below the fringe of tall
trees on the main-land, but the fresh breeze held favorably, and the
little _Adele_ was making most excellent progress, the water being
much smoother since we had rounded the point. We were already beyond
view of the anchored bark. All about was a scene of loneliness,
whether the searching eyes sought the near-by shore, apparently a
stretch of uninhabited wilderness, densely forested, or the broad
extent of the Bay, across which no white gleam of sail was visible.
All alike was deserted, and becoming gloomy in the closing down of
night. Dorothy remained hidden in the cabin, until about the time of
our approach to the rude landing at Travers' plantation. Whether this
isolation arose from an effort to make herself more presentable, or a
desire to avoid further contact with the Spaniard, was a question.
When she finally emerged at Roger Fairfax's call, and crossed the deck
to where the men were, there was no alteration in her dress, but by
that time I was busily engaged with Carr in reefing the mainsail, and
she passed me by without so much as a glance of recognition. Meanwhile
Fairfax and Sanchez paced restlessly back and forth, conversing
earnestly as they smoked, only occasionally pausing to contemplate the
shore past which we were gliding in silence, the only sound the ripple
of water at our stem.
Where I leaned alone against the rail, my eyes followed the Spaniard
in doubt and questioning, nor could I entirely banish from mind
Haley's description of that buccaneer, bearing a similar name, under
whom he had been compelled to serve through scenes of crime. Yet, in
spite of my unconscious desire to connect these two together, I found
it simply impossible to associate this rather soft-spoken, effeminate
dandy with that bloody villain, many of whose deeds were so familiar
to me. The distinction was too apparent. Beyond all doubt this fellow
concealed beneath his smiles a nature entirely different from the one
he now so carefully exhibited. He could hate fiercely, and nourish
revenge, and he was capable of mean, cowardly cruelty. His threat
toward me, as well as that strange incident Fairfax had observed on
the deck of the _Romping Betsy_, evidenced all this clearly, yet such
things rather proved the man a revengeful coward instead of a
desperate adventurer. Black Sanchez, according to all accounts, was a
devil incarnate, and no such popinjay as this maker of love, could
ever be changed into a terror of the sea. He was not of that stern
stuff. That it was perfectly easy for him to lie--even natural--was no
surprise to me. This seemed to accord with his other characteristics;
nor was it altogether strange that he should be fairly familiar with
these waters. If, as he claimed, he had once been connected with the
Spanish navy, which quite likely was true, even if he had never
visited this coast in person, he might have had access to their charts
and maps. It was well known that early Spanish navigators had explored
every inch of this coast line, and that their tracings, hastily as
they had been made, were the most correct in existence. His memory of
these might yet retain sufficient details through which he could
pretend to a knowledge much greater than he really possessed.