The Dark Secret of Josephine rb-5

by Dennis Wheatley

  Roger knew that she was right, but persisted. "I meant only that you have ample years ahead of you before you need give your heart to the love or a lifetime."

  "I have already given it to you."

  He sadly shook his head. "In that case I can only say how deeply I regret that you should have fastened your affections on such an unsatisfactory and unworthy object." His tone grew firmer, as he added: "And now, it is only right that I should let you know that I feel in honour bound to terminate, as soon as possible, the situation that your declaration has brought about. It would be indelicate both to Amanda and yourself for me to keep you with us."

  "D'you mean that you intend to send me home?" she cried in dismay.

  He felt a sudden impulse to laugh, but swiftly suppressed it and replied: "At the moment I am in no position to send anyone any­where ; but should we succeed in getting away I am sure that for your own sake it would be the best thing to do."

  "Oh Roger, I beg you not to," she pleaded. "I never meant to say anything, and if I hadn't you wouldn't have known. All this came out only because I was overwrought. You see, until I got near enough to realize it was you calling me I feared you dead and . . . and, my relief at finding you alive proved too much for me."

  Moved by her distress, he said with mental reservations: "Very well then, we'll not pursue the subject further. The others must have reached the beach ere this, and the sooner we join them the better. Then you can snatch a couple of hours' sleep before we make the attempt we have planned to get away in the Circe"

  "Must we?" she asked. "Go yet, I mean; if there's no immediate hurry. I could drop with fatigue from having staggered about for so long among those awful bushes. Can we not rest here a while before making this new effort? I would so much rather."

  Roger considered for a moment, then he shrugged. "As you wish, but we must not remain here above an hour, otherwise our friends will become anxious about us."

  "Oh thank you," she sighed. Then backing away she added: "There's a fallen tree trunk here. I stumbled into it just now. It will serve to rest our backs against."

  They fumbled about in the dark until they found the tree trunk, and sat down side by side. After a few minutes she said: "Roger, are you angry with me because I told you that I love you?"

  "No," he replied. "I would that you had refrained; but no man could be insensible to such a compliment, or so churlish as to think less of anyone because they had admitted that they held him dear."

  "Some would, I think; but not you, dear Roger, for you are kind as well as brave."

  To that he made no reply. Silence and the deep night then engulfed them. It was over thirty-six hours since, aboard the Circe, Roger had woken from his last proper sleep, and during them his vitality had been drained both mentally and physically. Before he was aware of it he was fast asleep.

  He was woken by soft fingers stroking his stubbly cheek, and roused to find himself in a woman's arms with his head pillowed on her breast. As he started up memory flooded back to him, and he realized that he was in the forest with Clarissa.

  The darkness hid her smile as she murmured: "Never in all my life have I been so reluctant to do a thing as when I brought myself to wake you; but the night moves on."

  "How long have you let me sleep?" he cried apprehensively.

  "Two hours; three at the most," she replied with a shrug.

  "Thank God it was not more!" he exclaimed, scrambling to his feet. "Are you certain? Did you not also sleep?"

  She stood up beside him. "No. I remained awake to wake you should you sleep too long. But don't grudge me those hours, Roger. They are my treasure, and no one can now ever take them from me."

  Touched, angry, embarrassed, he could find nothing to say but "Come, we must get down to the others. We had better tell them that I went into the forest to find you and got lost as well."

  She laughed. "Tell any fib you please. 'Twill form another secret bond between us. But I vow that I'll give you no cause to blush for it."

  Somewhat reassured by this evidence of her intention to refrain from further demonstrations of her feelings for him, he took her by the arm and they walked as fast as they could down to the gully.

  While Roger slept the moon had come up and they found the clearing now flooded with silvery light. By it, as they crossed the plank, they could see the still bodies of the men who had died that evening, and were even able to identify some of them. Roger could not repress a shudder as he glanced at the dark pit of the now silent pool, then he hurried Clarissa across the open space to the black tunnel where the path entered it on its far side. Plunging into the gloom again, they made their way down the slope until they were met by a cautious challenge.

  The voice was Fergusson's, and as soon as he was certain who they were he uttered an exclamation of thankfulness at seeing them again. Most of the party were asleep, but Kilick was also on watch a little farther off where the path opened out on to the beach, and he now joined them.

  Roger quickly said his piece about having got lost himself while searching tor Clarissa, then asked how the prospects looked for getting away, and they gave him their report. The pirates had spent the early part of the night carousing in the house, but evidently they suspected that the escaped prisoners might attempt to get away by sea, as a sentry, who had been relieved every hour, had been posted on the boats.

  That was bad news, yet Roger felt that the attempt must be made all the same. When he asked the time they told him that they judged it to be past two in the morning; which meant that there was less than three hours of darkness left. Rousing Dan he held a quick con­sultation with him, and they decided that to delay much longer might lessen their chances of success. Georgina, Roger learned, was still unconscious but for the moment showed no alarming symptoms; Fergusson woke the others and warned them to get ready, while Roger and Dan debated how best to tackle the sentry.

  Owing: to the bright moonlight they thought it unlikely that either of them could creep up behind him and take him completely by sur­prise; so they concerted measures by which they hoped to overcome him between them. Dan was to do the creeping up to him, as near as he thought he could get undetected. Roger was to approach as though coming from the house, and engage the man's attention. Then Dan was to rush him from behind.

  Roger watched Dan squirm away across the sand. Then, having given him ten minutes' start, he set off himself. Keeping in the deep shadow of the trees that fringed the beach, he headed for the house; but when he was half-way along the hutments that formed the slaves' quarters he altered course, and calmly walked down the beach towards the sentry.

  The man halted, turned towards him, and apparently unsuspicious of a trap, waited until he was within twenty feet, then asked a shade uncertainly: "Qui etes vous?"

  "Je suis Henri" replied Roger, that being the commonest French name he could think of.

  "Henri?" repeated the man in a puzzled tone, and lowered the musket he was carrying from his shoulder to the ready. "Henri qui?"

  By that time Roger was only ten feet from him, and did not reply. There came a sudden scuffling in the sand behind the sentry. He half turned, but thought better of it, and aimed his musket at Roger. As Dan ran in Roger dropped flat. The sentry went down without a sound under a swipe from Dan's sabre, but not before he had fired his musket

  They had failed to prevent the alarm being given, so now everything hung on speed. As the report echoed round the bay Roger sprang to his feet unhurt and ran to the nearest boat. Dan was already on her other side. Seizing its gunwale they strove to drag it over the few yards of sand that separated it from the water; but it was a heavy whaler and its weight proved too much for them.

  Within a minute their friends came racing up to their assistance. Three great heaves and the boat was afloat. Some of them scrambled in while others lifted the make-shift stretcher aboard on which Georgina lay. Seizing the oars they began to row frantically towards the Circe,

  Lights were already appearing in the house.
Shouts soon came from it. There were four other boats on the beach and any or all of them might be used for pursuit. Success or failure now depended on how quickly they could get aboard the Circe, haul up her anchor and set a few sails.

  Ten minutes* hard rowing brought them below her counter. No lights had appeared in her so they had good hopes that she was deserted. Dan was already standing up in the bow of the whaler holding her painter, ready to make her fast before they clambered aboard.

  Suddenly there came a crash of musketry from out of her broken stern windows. Kilick gave a shout and Roger a loud groan. The one had been hit in the shoulder and the other in the thigh.

  In the stillness that followed the crash there came the rich laugh of a woman, then Lucette's voice cried from the dark windows above: "You fools! Had you not the sense to credit me with expecting you to have a try for the Circe? Pull back to the shore and surrender, or come aboard to be slaughtered. The choice is yours."

  Fearful that as soon as the muskets could be reloaded another burst of fire would rake the boat, the men in her who held the oars were backing water hard. Roger was at her tiller and, although half fainting with pain, retained the presence of mind to turn her bow. With all their strength the rowers then pulled away from the ship. When the second fusillade came they were far enough off for the ill-aimed bullets to fall short and splash harmlessly into the water.

  As soon as they were out of danger the rowers ceased their frantic exertions and lay, panting, on their oars. There followed a hurried council to decide what their next move should be. An anxious scanning of the beach showed that only a handful of pirates had come down on to it. The rest, presumably, were still sunk in a drunken slumber, and those who had turned out appeared to be engaged in a heated argument. It looked as if, owing to their small numbers, some of them were averse to manning a boat for immediate pursuit. Never­theless, should the escapers attempt to land it was certain that they would be attacked, and at any time the pirates might receive reinforce­ments from the house. To take the Circe by assault was out of the question; and lights now appearing in the pirates' barque showed that Lucette had had the forethought to man her also with a skeleton crew.

  It seemed their only course was to struggle ashore among the mangroves that fringed the water along the outer arms of the bay, and again take to the forest, until Wilson said:

  "Anyhow, we've gotten the boat. Why shouldn't we make for Samt-Domingue in her? It's not much more than ten miles across the strait."

  As no one had any better suggestion to offer, the American's pro­posal was agreed to, and they began to pull steadily towards the entrance to the lagoon. Meanwhile Fergusson did what he could for the wounded. Kilick's injury was not serious, as the ball had only scored a shallow furrow through the flesh above his shoulder. But that which had hit Roger had embedded itself in his thigh; so he had to submit to the agonizing operation of having it extracted. Fergusson did not think that the thigh-bone had been fractured but, as Roger could bear his weight on it only with great pain, that it had probably been severely bruised. In any case it looked as if the wound would render him hors de combat for some time to come, and they gloomily made him as comfortable as they could beside Georgina on the bottom boards in the sternsheets of the boat.

  After half an hour's rowing they rounded the western point of the bay. As they passed out of it there were still no signs that their enemies meant to follow them; but on reaching the open sea they were con­fronted with an unexpected cause for dismay. A strong current was running dead against them and, pull as hard as they would, they could make only heartbreakingly slow progress towards Saint-Domingue.

  When dawn came a little over an hour later it revealed them to one another as a haggard and miserable parry. They had found that there was no water in the boat and no provisions. Most of them were suffering from injuries of one kind or another, and two of them lay in the stern seriously wounded. Soon the sun would be blazing down on them without respite, burning and blistering them with its terrible heat. And, now that day had come, should the pirates choose to set sail either in the Circe or their barque in pursuit of them, nothing could save them from recapture.

  chapter XIII

  OUT OF THE FRYING-PAN INTO THE FIRE

  Jake Harris and Will Kilick had both made previous voyages to the West Indies, but the American, Benjamin Wilson, was the only member of the boat's company who had lived in them for any considerable time; so he was the first to realize the new ordeals of sun-scorch and thirst which they must now face owing to having adopted his own suggestion of making for Saint-Domingue.

  While darkness lasted they could have landed unseen on the west point of the bay, hidden the boat among the mangroves and concealed themselves in the jungle, slept all day and then had a full night before them in which to make the crossing. But they were a good mile from land. To turn back now meant exposing themselves to a still greater risk of recapture, and even if they could get safely ashore they would have to abandon the boat from fear that they were under observation by a look-out on the point who would swiftly bring the pirates to the spot where they had landed.

  Silently the American cursed himself for his misjudgment: although in fact he was little to blame, as he had known nothing of the adverse current which made every yard they gained a struggle, and in the urgency of the moment anyone might have overestimated the pulling powers of his eleven companions.

  As it was Dan, Jake, the Doctor and himself were the only members of the party capable of putting in an effective spell at an oar, and even they were already nearly played out owing to their previous night's exertions. Roger, now in great pain, lay helpless on the stern boards. The wound in Kilick's shoulder, although only flesh deep, made rowing an agony for him. Pirouet and Tom had both proved broken reeds; the one because he had a weak heart, and the other because the blood he had lost after receiving a cut across the head had resulted in his becoming weak and feverish.

  That left only the women. Georgina was still unconscious, and Amanda had a wrenched arm. But soon after dawn Clarissa and Jenny volunteered to relieve in turn for a spell two of the four men who were rowing^-Neither of the girls had ever before handled a heavy oar; so at first their erratic efforts proved far from helpful, but after a while they got into the rhythm of pulling and gamely stuck it for an hour.

  By then the boat had gained another hard-won mile to seaward, and there were still no signs of pursuit; so most of them felt an increasing optimism about their chances of escape. But the seafaring members of the party, while keeping their thoughts to themselves, were much less inclined to think they were nearly out of the wood. They rightly assumed that they had been allowed to get so far un-pursued only because the early morning calm would have made it futile for the pirates to hoist the sails on either of the ships, and that as soon as a breeze sprang up they might expect to see then* enemies coming after them. With this in mind, when Fergusson suggested that they should take it easy for a while, Dan would not hear of it, and insisted that they must not relax their efforts as long as they had an ounce of strength left in them.

  The next hour was a grim one. The arms of the rowers ached to breaking-point and the sun was mounting with an ever-increasing glare. As some consolation the strength of the current gradually lessened until they had passed right out of it; so they were able to maintain the boat's pace with less exertion, and the mangrove-tangled shore of Tortuga dropped below their horizon. But Dan, knowing that the boat could soil easily be picked up by a look-out from a snip's mast, continued to urge them to stick it for a while longer.

  Soon after eight o'clock both Fergusson and Wilson were so worn out that every few minutes one or other of them caught a crab, and it became obvious that they had become more of a hindrance than a help; so Jenny and Clarissa again relieved them. By nine the hands of the two girls were badly blistered from the unaccustomed work and they were hard put to it to suppress tears, while Dan and Jake had also reached the limit of their strength. There was then nothin
g for it but to ship oars and let the boat drift, praying that a now favourable current they had struck would continue to carry it farther from Tortuga.

  The rest of the day was one long nightmare that seemed never ending. The pursuit which would certainly have meant their recapture never matured, because it proved one of those days which occasionally occur in the tropics when a calm continues almost unbroken from dawn till dusk; yet at times they would have almost welcomed the sight of their enemies' topmasts as the price of a refreshing breeze.

  Hour after hour the glassy sea for miles around reflected the cloudless blue sky, and a brazen sun blazed down upon them unmercifully. In vain they cowered in the bottom of the boat seeking to take advantage of every vestige of shadow thrown by thwarts and the oars laid along them. Their clothes were their only protection from the scorching rays, and adjust them as they would it was next to impossible to keep heads, necks, ears, faces, hands, wrists and ankles covered at one time; yet the exposure of any area of skin for more than a few moments had to be paid for later by most painful burning. Had the Circe's late passengers not become to some degree immunized to tropical sun­shine during the last weeks of her voyage, they must all have been .driven insane; even as it was they suffered acutely.

  They were in no urgent need of food but by midday thirst began to worry them. At first it took the form only of parched throats, but as the seemingly ^terminable hours of the afternoon wore on their tongues began to swell and they no longer had enough saliva in their mouths to moisten their cracking lips. Tom added greatly to their distress, for he became delirious, and their hearts were wrung by his cries for water, which they could not satisfy.

  Meanwhile, the current had carried the boat out into mid channel and some miles to westward of the course they had set early that morning. From time to time two of the men got out oars and again impelled the boat towards the shore that meant safely and succour, but short spells were all that they could manage. To southward, for as far as they could see on either hand, stretched the shores of Saint-Domingue. From them the western end of the island rose in fold after fold of forest-covered slopes to a great range of peaks eastward in its distant centre, which had caused its aborigines to call it Haiti, meaning 'Mountainous'. Its lack of all signs of human habitation gave it a mysterious, slightly sinister, look, yet with aching eyes they gazed towards it as to a Promised Land.