by Howard Pyle
Dead Men Tell No Tales
Originally published in
Collier’s Weekly, December 17, 1899
The shock of the water brought him instantly to his senses, and, being a fairly good swimmer, he had not the least difficulty in reaching and clutching the crosspiece of a wooden ladder that, coated with slimy sea moss, led from the water level to the wharf above.
After reaching the safety of the dry land once more, Jonathan gazed about him as though to discern whence the next attack might be delivered upon him. But he stood entirely alone upon the dock — not another living soul was in sight. The surface of the water exhibited some commotion, as though disturbed by something struggling beneath; but the sea captain, who had doubtless been stunned by the tremendous crack upon his head, never arose again out of the element that had engulfed him.
The moonlight shone with a peaceful and resplendent illumination, and, excepting certain remote noises from the distant town, not a sound broke the silence and the peacefulness of the balmy, tropical night. The limpid water, illuminated by the resplendent moonlight, lapped against the wharf. All the world was calm, serene, and enveloped in a profound and entire repose.
Jonathan looked up at the round and brilliant globe of light floating in the sky above his head, and wondered whether it were, indeed, possible that all that had befallen him was a reality and not some tremendous hallucination. Then suddenly arousing himself to a renewed realization of that which had occurred, he turned and ran like one possessed, up along the wharf, and so into the moonlit town once more.
VI
The Conclusion of the Adventure with the Lady with the Silver Veil
Nor did he check his precipitous flight until suddenly, being led perhaps by some strange influence of which he was not at all the master, he discovered himself to be standing before the garden gate where not more than an hour before he had first entered upon the series of monstrous adventures that had led to such tremendous conclusions.
People were still passing and repassing, and one of these groups — a party of young ladies and gentlemen — paused upon the opposite side of the street to observe, with no small curiosity and amusement, his dripping and bedraggled aspect. But only one thought and one intention possessed our hero — to relieve himself as quickly as possible of that trust which he had taken up so thoughtlessly, and with such monstrous results to himself and to his victims. He ran to the gate of the garden and began beating and kicking upon it with a vehemence that he could neither master nor control. He was aware that the entire neighborhood was becoming aroused, for he beheld lights moving and loud voices of inquiry; yet he gave not the least thought to the disturbance he was creating, but continued without intermission his uproarious pounding upon the gate.
At length, in answer to the sound of his vehement blows, the little wicket was opened and a pair of eyes appeared thereat. The next instant the gate was cast ajar very hastily, and the pock-pitted negress appeared. She caught him by the sleeve of his coat and drew him quickly into the garden. “Buckra, Buckra!” she cried. “What you doing? You wake de whole town!” Then, observing his dripping garments: “You been in de water. You catch de fever and shake till you die.”
“Thy mistress!” cried Jonathan, almost sobbing in the excess of his emotion; “take me to her upon the instant, or I cannot answer for my not going entirely mad!”
When our hero was again introduced to the lady he found her clad in a loose and elegant negligee, infinitely becoming to her graceful figure, and still covered with the veil of silver gauze that had before enveloped her.
“Friend,” he cried, vehemently, approaching her and holding out toward her the little ivory ball, “take again this which thou gavest me! It has brought death to three men, and I know not what terrible fate may befall me if I keep it longer in my possession.”
“What is it you say?” cried she, in a piercing voice. “Did you say it hath caused the death of three men? Quick! Tell me what has happened, for I feel somehow a presage that you bring me news of safety and release from all my dangers.”
“I know not what thou meanest!” cried Jonathan, still panting with agitation. “But this I do know: that when I went away from thee I departed an innocent man, and now I come back to thee burdened with the weight of three lives, which, though innocent, I have been instrumental in taking.”
“Explain!” exclaimed the lady, tapping the floor with her foot. “Explain! explain! explain!”
“That I will,” cried Jonathan, “and as soon as I am able! When I left thee and went out into the street I was accosted by a little gentleman clad in black.”
“Indeed!” cried the lady. “And had he but one eye, and did he carry a gold-headed cane?”
“Exactly,” said Jonathan; “and he claimed acquaintance with friend Jeremiah Doolittle.”
“He never knew him!” cried the lady, vehemently; “and I must tell you that he was a villain named Hunt, who at one time was the intimate consort of the pirate Keitt. He it was who plunged a deadly knife into his captain’s bosom, and so murdered him in this very house. He himself, or his agents, must have been watching my gate when you went forth.”
“I know not how that may be,” said Jonathan, “but he took me to his apartment, and there, obtaining a knowledge of the trust thou didst burden me with, he demanded it of me, and upon my refusing to deliver it to him he presently fell to attacking me with a dagger. In my efforts to protect my life I inadvertently caused him to plunge the knife into his own bosom and to kill himself.”
“And what then?” cried the lady, who appeared well-nigh distracted with her emotions.
“Then,” said Jonathan, “there came a strange man — a foreigner — who upon his part assaulted me with a pistol, with every intention of murdering me and thus obtaining possession of that same little trifle.”
“And did he,” exclaimed the lady, “have long, black mustachios, and did he have silver earrings in his ears?”
“Yes,” said Jonathan, “he did.”
“That,” cried the lady, “could have been none other than Captain Keitt’s Portuguese sailing master, who must have been spying upon Hunt! Tell me what happened next!”
“He would have taken my life,” said Jonathan, “but in the struggle that followed he shot himself accidentally with his own pistol, and died at my very feet. I do not know what would have happened to me if a sea captain had not come and proffered his assistance.”
“i am the daughter of that unfortunate captain keitt”
“A sea captain!” she exclaimed; “and had he a flat face and a broken nose?”
“Indeed he had,” replied Jonathan.
“That,” said the lady, “must have been Captain Keitt’s pirate partner — Captain Willitts, of The Bloody Hand. He was doubtless spying upon the Portuguese.”
“He induced me,” said Jonathan, “to carry the two bodies down to the wharf. Having inveigled me there — where, I suppose, he thought no one could interfere — he assaulted me, and endeavored to take the ivory ball away from me. In my efforts to escape we both fell into the water, and he, striking his head upon the edge of the wharf, was first stunned and then drowned.”
“Thank God!” cried the lady, with a transport of fervor, and clasping her jeweled hands together. “At last I am free of those who have heretofore persecuted me and threatened my very life itself! You have asked to behold my face; I will now show it to you! Heretofore I have been obliged to keep it concealed lest, recognizing me, my enemies should have slain me.” As she spoke she drew aside her veil, and disclosed to the vision of our hero a countenance of the most extraordinary and striking beauty. Her luminous eyes were like those of a Jawa, and set beneath exquisitely arched and penciled brows. Her forehead was like lustrous ivory and her lips like rose leaves. Her hair, which was as soft as the finest silk, was fastened up in masses of ravishing abundance. “I am,” said she, “the daughter of that unfortunate Captain Keitt, who, though weak and a pirate, was not so wicked, I w
ould have you know, as he has been painted. He would, doubtless, have been an honest man had he not been led astray by the villain Hunt, who so nearly compassed your destruction. He returned to this island before his death, and made me the sole heir of all that great fortune which he had gathered — perhaps not by the most honest means — in the waters of the Indian Ocean. But the greatest treasure of all that fortune bequeathed to me was a single jewel which you yourself have just now defended with a courage and a fidelity that I cannot sufficiently extol. It is that priceless gem known as the Ruby of Kishmoor. I will show it to you.”
Hereupon she took the little ivory ball in her hand, and, with a turn of her beautiful wrists, unscrewed a lid so nicely and cunningly adjusted that no eye could have detected where it was joined to the parent globe. Within was a fleece of raw silk containing an object which she presently displayed before the astonished gaze of our hero. It was a red stone of about the bigness of a plover’s egg, and which glowed and flamed with such an exquisite and ruddy brilliancy as to dazzle even Jonathan’s inexperienced eyes. Indeed, he did not need to be informed of the priceless value of the treasure, which he beheld in the rosy palm extended toward him. How long he gazed at this extraordinary jewel he knew not, but he was aroused from his contemplation by the sound of the lady’s voice addressing him. “The three villains,” said she, “who have this day met their deserts in a violent and bloody death, had by an accident obtained knowledge that this jewel was in my possession. Since then my life has hung upon a thread, and every step that I have taken has been watched by these enemies, the most cruel and relentless that it was ever the lot of any unfortunate to possess. From the mortal dangers of their machinations you have saved me, exhibiting a courage and a determination that cannot be sufficiently applauded. In this you have earned my deepest admiration and regard. I would rather,” she cried, “intrust my life and my happiness to you than into the keeping of any man whom I have ever known! I cannot hope to reward you in such a way as to recompense you for the perils into which my necessities have thrust you; but yet” — and here she hesitated, as though seeking for words in which to express herself— “but yet if you are willing to accept of this jewel, and all of the fortune that belongs to me, together with the person of poor Evaline Keitt herself, not only the stone and the wealth, but the woman also, are yours to dispose of as you see fit!”
Our hero was so struck aback at this unexpected turn that he knew not upon the instant what reply to make. “Friend,” said he, at last, “I thank thee extremely for thy offer, and, though I would not be ungracious, it is yet borne in upon me to testify to thee that as to the stone itself and the fortune — of which thou speakest, and of which I very well know the history — I have no inclination to receive either the one or the other, both the fruits of theft, rapine, and murder. The jewel I have myself beheld three times stained, as it were, with the blood of my fellow man, so that it now has so little value in my sight that I would not give a peppercorn to possess it. Indeed, there is no inducement in the world that could persuade me to accept it, or even to take it again into my hand. As to the rest of thy generous offer, I have only to say that I am, four months hence, to be married to a very comely young woman of Kensington, in Pennsylvania, by name Martha Dobbs, and therefore I am not at all at liberty to consider my inclinations in any other direction.”
Having so delivered himself, Jonathan bowed with such ease as his stiff and awkward joints might command, and thereupon withdrew from the presence of the charmer, who, with cheeks suffused with blushes and with eyes averted, made no endeavor to detain him.
So ended the only adventure of moment that ever happened him in all his life. For thereafter he contented himself with such excitement as his mercantile profession and his extremely peaceful existence might afford.
Epilogue
In conclusion it may be said that when the worthy Jonathan Rugg was married to Martha Dobbs, upon the following June, some mysterious friend presented to the bride a rope of pearls of such considerable value that when they were realized into money our hero was enabled to enter into partnership with his former patron the worthy Jeremiah Doolittle, and that, having made such a beginning, he by and by arose to become, in his day, one of the leading merchants of his native town of Philadelphia.
Uncollected Short Stories
CONTENTS
TO THE SOIL OF THE EARTH!
IN TENEBRAS
THE DIE OF FATE
THE EVIL EYE
HUNTFORD’S FAIR NIHILIST
A LIFE FOR A LIFE
A SOLDIER OF FORTUNE.
THE ANGEL AND THE CHILD
BARTRAM AND HIS GARDEN
THE COCK LANE GHOST
TO THE SOIL OF THE EARTH!
Cosmopolitan Jun 1892
I.
TO HEAVEN.
IN the world of angelic spirits that lies far beyond the limits of this life of nature (though not in the heavens of the celestial ones), there is a certain city inhabited by those who were Christians in the life of the flesh. It is immaculately clean; it is white and beautiful and is built upon a hill. Around the base of the hill flows a smooth, wide river. All along the banks of the river are sloping meadows and gardens, interspersed here and there with shady glades and orchards of flower and fruit trees. There are paths along the margin of the river. The people of the city often walk there, though never going far away from the town. The light that shines upon all is of a vast and dazzling splendor. In the faces of the people is the light of an almost angelic happiness. No one lives there who is not numbered among the blessed.
There was a male child born into a part of the world inhabited by Christian people. It could not live, and so it was immediately baptized by a priest who was present. It did not make any outcry. It drew breath just deep enough and full enough to cause it to be truly a part of the world of flesh, then it straightened its little limbs and died. It ascended to this City of Angelic Spirits and was received there by those who were awaiting its coming. They named it Daihas, which with them means the bright or blessed one.
Three years later, in another part of the world of Christian people, a female child was born, was baptized and died just as the male child had been born, had been baptized and had died. It also was received into this society of angelic spirits by those who were awaiting its coming. They named this little one Aiha, which means the joyful one. Each of the children, having been adjoined to the earth by only a single breath, was peculiarly and perfectly immaculate — without evil, without sin, without taint of any kind.
Now at the apex of the hill whereon this City of Angelic Spirits is built are two buildings of shining and dazzling white. They are separated by a fresh and beautiful park of thick, shady young trees. Beneath the trees are walks of white marble laid in the shade. One of these buildings is the temple of the city. Above it a vast dome, sparkling as white as snow, rises into the still blue serenity of the sky. At the summit of the dome is the gilded image of an angel, standing tiptoe, with wings outspread and finger pointed upward.
The other building that stands facing the temple across the park of trees is not vast and magnificent, but it is as white as snow and very beautiful. Adjoining it is an extended and beautiful garden of flowering plants and shrubs and fruit trees, with little grassy lawns and open spaces. There are fountains in this garden, and walks paved with beautiful pebbles of various colors. There are more birds in the trees of this garden than anywhere else, and, especially during the early morning, they sing so jubilantly that all the air is filled with a multitudinous voice of carolling in which hardly a single song can be distinguished from another.
The building is called the House of Children. In it live the little ones who have quitted the world at too tender an age to have gained knowledge of evil or of sin. The garden is their playground.
It was to this bright and beautiful abode, and to this life of purity and ecstatic joy that the two little immaculates were introduced. Special teachers and caretakers were appointe
d to attend them. Not only were the spirits so appointed chosen with singular care from among the rest, not only were they the purest and most innocent of those who had attained adult life in the world of flesh, but, while they were engaged in instructing their charges, those exterior memories to which things evil and impure had been removed were kept closed from below, so that nothing whatever might blemish the spotless purity of the little ones whom they cared for and instructed.
The two children grew from infancy to childhood, from childhood to youth, perfectly and supremely pure, perfectly and supremely innocent, perfectly and supremely happy. As they continued growing toward adolescence they began to love one another. When they had nearly reached manhood and womanhood their teachers instructed them what love meant. They also told them that when they became fully adult they should be married, and in man and wife form a one — complete and perfect. At this time they began to foretaste the first perfect bliss of heaven that they afterward enjoyed.
They would sometimes descend into the lower parts of the city. They would walk beyond the gates to the paths beside the river and, hand in hand, through the gardens and the lawns that lay along the bank of the stream.