The Pirate Island

by Harry Collingwood

  “Ay ay, Bill, you have.”

  “You’re a reg’lar devil sometimes.”

  “A real out-and-outer, and no mistake,” were the confirmatory replies.

  “Yes,” Dickinson continued, “and yet I can’t forget it; I can’t persuade myself; and the more I try the worse I feel about it, and I don’t care who hears me say so.”

  “Well, you seem to be in earnest in what you say, Dickinson; but I really cannot believe you are. No man who really believed in the existence of a God of Justice would continue to live a life of sin and defiance,” said the skipper.

  “Wouldn’t he?” fiercely retorted the boatswain’s mate. “Supposin’ he’d done what I’ve done and lived the life I’ve lived, what would he do? Answer me that.”

  “Come up to our hut next Sunday morning at eleven o’clock, and I will answer you.”

  “What! do you mean to say that you’ll let me in, and them women-folks there too?”

  “Certainly we will,” said Captain Staunton heartily. “We are all mortal, like yourself; and the ladies will not refuse, I am sure, to meet a man who feels as you do.”

  “Then I’ll come,” exclaimed the man with a frightful oath, intended to add emphasis to his declaration, and then, as the boat’s keel grated on the beach, he and his mates sprang into the shallow water, and, lifting Bob in his impromptu stretcher carefully upon their shoulders, they proceeded with heedful steps to bear him toward the hut.

  “Now, there,” remarked Captain Staunton in a low voice as they hurried on ahead to get Bob’s bunk ready for him, “there is an example of a human soul steeped in sin, yet revolting from it; struggling desperately to escape; and in its despair only dyeing itself with a deeper stain. It is a noble nature in revolt against a state of hideous ignoble slavery; and I pray God that I may find words wherewith to suitably answer his momentous question.”

  “Amen,” said Lance fervently, raising his hat reverently from his head as the word passed his lips.

  In another ten minutes they had poor Bob safely in the house and comfortably bestowed in his berth. The medicine-chest had been brought back in the boat and was soon conveyed to the hut; and while Lance busied himself in mixing a cooling draught for his patient, Dale, to the intense astonishment of everybody, voluntarily undertook to prepare some strengthening broth for him. The man’s supreme selfishness gave way, for the moment, to admiration of Bob’s gallant deed—so immeasurably beyond anything of which he felt himself capable—and, genuinely ashamed of himself, for perhaps the first time in his life, he suddenly resolved to do what little in him lay to be useful.

  When Lance came down-stairs for a moment after administering the saline draught, he found Dickinson and his three companions still hanging about outside the door in an irresolute manner, as though undecided whether to go or stay. He accordingly went out to them and, with an earnestness quite foreign to his usual manner, thanked them warmly yet courteously for their valuable assistance (Lance never forgot that he was a gentleman, and was therefore uniformly courteous to everybody), and then dismissed them, adding at the last moment a word or two of reminder to Dickinson as to his promise for the following Sunday, which he emphasised with a hearty shake of the hand.

  The boatswain’s mate walked away down to the boat silently and in a seemingly dazed condition, holding up his right hand before him, turning it over, and looking at it as though he had never seen it before. He never opened his lips until the boat was in mid-channel, when, resting on his oar for a moment, he said—

  “Well, shipmates, you’ve heard me say to-day words that I wouldn’t have believed this morning I could find courage to say to any human being. Now, I’m not ashamed of ’em—I won’t go back from a single word—but you know as well as I do what a rumpus there’d be if it got to be known that there’d been said what’s been said this arternoon. I don’t care about myself, not a single curse; you and as many more fools as choose can laugh at me until you’re all tired; but mind—I won’t have a word said about them; if this gets abroad they’ll be made uncomfortable, and I won’t have it—D’ye hear, mates, I won’t have it. The first man that says a word about it—well”—with a powerful effort to curb his passion—“the best thing he can do is to take to the water and swim right out to sea; for the sharks ’ll be more marciful to him than I will.”

  “All right, matey, all right,” good-humouredly answered one of the men, “you needn’t threaten us—no occasion for that; we’re not going to split on yer, old man; perhaps, if the truth was knowed, there’s others besides yourself as don’t feel pertickler comfortable about this here piratin’ business—I won’t mention no names—and anyhow you may trust me not to say a word about what we’ve heard to-day upon it; and there’s my hand upon it.”

  “And mine.”

  “And mine.”

  The proffered hands were silently grasped with fervour; and then the oars were resumed and the boat sped on her way to the shipyard.

  * * *

  * * *

  Chapter Fifteen.

  Lost!

  When the three ladies entered Staunton Cottage they were greatly surprised to find Captain Staunton and Lance there, both busy scraping lint; and still more surprised to see Dale bending over a fire with his coat off, diligently stirring the contents of a small tin saucepan.

  May was the first to throw any light upon the situation, which she did, directly the door opened, by rushing up to her mother and exclaiming excitedly—

  “Oh, mama! what do you think? I fell into the water, and Bobbie jumped in too; and a naughty shark hurt poor Bobbie and made his leg bleed; so papa and Mr Evelin and some sailors brought him home and put him to bed; and he’s up there now, mama, so poorly.”

  Mrs Staunton turned mutely to her husband for an explanation. For a single moment she felt quite incapable of speaking intelligibly. Her mental vision conjured up a picture of her child in some terrible danger, and, in her anxiety, her mind refused to take in more than that one awful fact, overlooking for the time the circumstance of Bob having received an injury. The danger to which May had been exposed; that was all she thought about—all she could think about just then; and, until she had heard the story, she had not attention for anything or anyone else.

  So Captain Staunton bade them all sit down, and then he related the full details of May’s adventure, with Bob’s gallant rescue of her, and the unfortunate accident which accompanied it. It is not necessary to repeat the frequent exclamations of horror and admiration which were elicited from the fair auditors as the various details of the occurrence were related; nor to describe the convulsive way in which May was clasped to her mother’s breast, and fondled and cried over by all three of the sensitive loving women together as they listened to the story of her terrible peril. Suffice it say that, when the narrative was over, the womenkind went with one accord up to Bob’s bedside, and there so overwhelmed him with thanks and praises that the poor fellow was quite overcome, so that Lance had finally to interfere, and with mock severity order their immediate withdrawal.

  Later on, when the excitement had somewhat subsided, and while they were all sitting down quietly to tea, the ladies produced their nuggets, passing them round for inspection, and relating the manner in which they had been found. Lance’s experience as a gold-digger now served the party in good stead, for he had no sooner taken the dull yellow lumps into his hand than he pronounced them to be veritable nuggets of pure gold; and after extracting from the fair finders as accurate a description as they could give him of the locality in which the discovery had been made, he declared his belief that one or more “pockets” of gold existed in the immediate vicinity of the pool, and said he would take an early opportunity of personally inspecting the spot.

  The somewhat exciting events of the day caused the party to sit up chatting rather late that evening, and about midnight they were startled by the sound of knocking at the door. Captain Staunton opened it, and there stood Dickinson, who explained with some hesitation
that, “Bein’ as he couldn’t sleep very well, he’d made so bold as to come up, seein’ a light in the winder, to ask how the little missie was a’ter her ducking, likewise the youngster as had got his leg hurt.”

  The skipper was able to give satisfactory answers to both inquiries, and Mrs Staunton, hearing that someone was asking after May, came out herself and thanked the ex-boatswain’s-mate so sweetly for his interest in her child that the poor fellow went away more dazed than ever, but with a heart so light that he felt as if walking upon air; and during the short journey between the hut and his quarters he solemnly and silently registered sundry fearful vows as to what he would do to anyone who dared so much as to think any harm of the inhabitants of Staunton Cottage.

  For the next two days everybody was exceedingly busy; the men being hard at work at the shipyard, while the women felt as though they could not do enough for Bob, or make enough of him; indeed, in their anxiety to show their gratitude and admiration, they—Violet and Blanche, at least—let enthusiasm outrun discretion so far that they bid fair to do the patient more harm than good, so that Mrs Staunton was fain at last to take him under her own exclusive charge, forbidding the younger ladies to enter the room more than twice a day,—once in the morning and again in the evening,—and then rigorously limiting their visits to five minutes on each occasion.

  The third day following Bob’s accident was Sunday. This day was always observed as a holiday by the pirates; not, it need scarcely be said, in deference to the Fourth Commandment, but simply because the men insisted upon having one day of rest from work—a day on which the more sober and steady members of the band were wont to devote some little attention to the toilet and to the repairs of their clothing; while the remainder—by far the greater number—gave themselves up to unrestrained riot and drunkenness, a circumstance which, as may easily be understood, always caused a considerable amount of anxiety to the inmates of Staunton Cottage.

  But however anxious they may have been—however fearful that, in their unbridled licence, the pirates might at any moment break in upon the privacy of the cottage and attempt some outrage—divine service was invariably performed twice each Sunday in the lower apartment of the cottage.

  The day in question was no exception to the rule; and when the party began to assemble for the morning service, they saw that Dickinson had posted himself at a little distance from, but within easy hail of, the door. He was accordingly invited in; and when he made his appearance, with his hair freshly cut, his long bushy beard and moustache carefully trimmed, and his person decently arrayed in a nearly new suit of blue pilot-cloth, he looked not only every inch a sailor, but also a very fine specimen of manhood. He entered with some show of diffidence, and seemed half-inclined to beat a hasty retreat again, when Mrs Staunton invited him to occupy a seat next her. However, he remained, conducting himself with the greatest propriety during the service, and evidently still having in remembrance the forms of the Episcopal ceremonial. When prayers were over Captain Staunton delivered, according to his usual custom, a short address, in which he strove earnestly to give a plain and comprehensive answer to the question which Dickinson had propounded to him in the boat. It is not within the province of such a book as this to repeat what was said on the occasion; suffice it to say that the skipper so far succeeded in his object that, when the service was over, the strange guest went away a happier and a more hopeful man than he had been for years. He presented himself again at the evening service, remaining, at Mrs Staunton’s invitation, to listen to the sacred music in which the party generally indulged for an hour at the close of the day. Thenceforth he was a changed man.

  On the following morning Lance announced that he proposed to make, in Blanche’s company, a visit to the “gold mine,” as they laughingly called it. Blanche’s presence was required ostensibly in order that she might act in the capacity of pilot; but no one attempted to pretend that he or she was blinded by so exceedingly transparent an excuse. Everybody knew how eagerly the occasion was welcomed by the pair as affording an opportunity for a long day’s uninterrupted enjoyment of each other’s society, and everybody had accordingly something jocular to say about it.

  But what cared they, these two, happy in the first rosy flush of mutually acknowledged love. They laughingly returned jest for jest, and set off in high glee directly after breakfast, saying they were not to be expected back at any definite time, as they should stay until Lance had made a thorough examination of the entire locality. Deeply in love, however, as they both were, they had the forethought to provide themselves with a good substantial luncheon, and Evelin also slipped a tolerably heavy hammer and a cold chisel into his pocket.

  Blithely the pair stepped out,—for is not happiness always light of foot?—and in due time, a much shorter time, by the way than was occupied in the previous journey, they arrived at the brink of the ravine, and looked down upon the tiny crystal stream and the pool wherein the nuggets had been found.

  Lance took in the geological characteristics of the place at a glance. He recognised the rocks as genuine out-crops of gold-bearing quartz, and the minute yellow specks therein as the precious metal itself, their visible presence being an indication of the extraordinary richness of the reef.

  “Why, Blanche darling!” he exclaimed, all his miner’s instincts fully aroused as he chipped and broke off “specimens” here and there, to find tiny pellets and nodules of gold thickly clustering in each, “this mine of yours is worth a nation’s ransom; I do not believe there is such another reef as this in the whole world. With proper crushing machinery we might all make our fortunes in a month. But let us take a look at the pool; unless I am greatly mistaken there is a princely fortune lying about here, and to be had for the mere picking up, without the need of machinery at all.”

  They scrambled down the side of the ravine and stood by the margin of the pool. Then Lance looked upward in the direction of the flow of the rivulet, attentively noting the “run” of the strata. Glancing about him, he saw a small broken branch lying on the ground at no great distance; and securing it he cut away with his knife the sides of the larger end so as to produce a flat surface, making of the branch a very narrow-bladed wooden spade, in fact. Reaching as far forward as he could, he plunged the blade of his extemporised spade into the sandy bottom of the pool, pressing it gently down into the sand until he could get it no deeper, when he “prized” it upward, so as to bring to the surface a specimen of the subsoil. Raising it very carefully, the end of the branch at length came into view, bringing with it a small quantity of yellow glittering sand. Some of this, by care and patience, he managed to get out of the water before it was quite washed away; and, placing it in the palm of his hand, he gently agitated it to and fro beneath the surface of the water until all the lighter particles were washed away, when there remained in his hand a minute quantity of fine yellow dust.

  “There,” he said, “what do you think of that, Blanche? It is gold-dust, my dear girl; and if we could drain off the water from this pool—and it might be done without much trouble—we should find plenty of it underneath that fine white sand. Now, let us inspect a little further.”

  They accordingly began to walk slowly up the border of the stream, which descended the ravine by a series of miniature cataracts a foot or so in height, usually with small sandy-bottomed basins beyond. One of these basins proved to be so small and so shallow that, standing on a projecting ledge of rock, Lance was able to make a tolerably thorough examination of its bed with the aid of the before-mentioned branch, and he had not been very long stirring up the sand with it when he turned up four very fine nuggets, varying in size from a hen’s egg to a six-pound shot.

  “Just as I expected,” he exclaimed. “Now, the spot from which this gold originally came is at the head of this ravine. These nuggets have all been brought down here by the water; and the higher we go the larger will the nuggets be, because of course, the heaviest of them will have travelled the shortest distance. But before pushing our
investigations further, I propose that we sit down here and have luncheon; this is a picturesque spot; and, what is perhaps more to the purpose, I am frightfully hungry.”

  They accordingly seated themselves upon a great moss-grown rock, and partook of the contents of the basket with all the appetite of healthy people who had passed a long morning in the fresh pure air.

  Luncheon over, and Lance having, at Blanche’s request—or perhaps the word command would be nearer the truth—lighted a cigar, the pair proceeded with their investigations.

  The characteristics of the stream continued to be the same; short lengths of sparkling water flowing over a boulder-strewn bed; diminutive rapids; tiny cataracts; and occasional quiet pools between. One or two of the smallest and least difficult of these pools Lance cursorily examined, finding in each case one or more nuggets, the sizes increasing as the searchers made their way upward, and thus confirming Lance’s theory. He did not, however, devote much time to the actual search for gold; his object was just then to trace the gold to its source, and, at the same time, to note what capabilities existed for damming off the most promising spots, with a view to future operations.

  A happy idea, as Blanche thought it, suddenly occurred to that young lady.

  “Oh, Lance!” she exclaimed, “what geese we are?”

  “Are we, darling?” said her companion. “Probably if anyone happened to see us just now,” sliding his arm round her waist and kissing her, “they would be inclined to think so. Nay, you need not pout, it is entirely your own fault; the fact is, that you looked so pretty the temptation was simply irresistible.”

  “Was it?” she retorted. “Well, I think it very rude of you to interrupt me like that, just at the moment I was about to give utterance to a brilliant idea; but seriously, Lance dear, do you not think we could collect a sufficiency of this gold to purchase our freedom from these horrid men.”