Dead Men Tell No Tales

by E. W. Hornung

  CHAPTER XIII. THE LONGEST DAY OF MY LIFE

  The boy looked so blithe and buoyant, so gallant and still so frank,that even now I could not think as meanly of him as poor Eva did. Arogue he must be, but surely not the petty rogue that she had made himout. Yet it was dirty work that he had done by me; and there I had tolie and take his kind, false, felon's hand in mine.

  "My poor dear fellow," he cried, "I'm most sorry to find you like this.But I was afraid of it last night. It's all this infernally strong air!"

  How I longed to tell him what it was, and to see his face! The thoughtof Eva alone restrained me, and I retorted as before, in a tone I stroveto make as friendly, that it was his admirable wine and nothing else.

  "But you took hardly any."

  "I shouldn't have touched a drop. I can't stand it. Instead of soothingme it excites me to the verge of madness. I'm almost over the verge--forwant of sleep--my trouble ever since the trouble."

  Again I was speaking the literal truth, and again congratulating myselfas though it were a lie: the fellow looked so distressed at my state;indeed I believe that his distress was as genuine as mine, and hissentiments as involved. He took my hand again, and his brow wrinkled atits heat. He asked for the other hand to feel my pulse. I had to drop myletter to comply.

  "I wish to goodness there was something I could do for you," he said."Would you--would you care to see a doctor?"

  I shook my head, and could have smiled at his visible relief.

  "Then I'm going to prescribe for you," he said with decision. "It's theplace that doesn't agree with you, and it was I who brought you to theplace; therefore it's for me to get you out of it as quick as possible.Up you get, and I'll drive you to the station myself!"

  I had another work to keep from smiling: he was so ingenuouslydisingenuous. There was less to smile at in his really nervous anxietyto get me away. I lay there reading him like a book: it was not myhealth that concerned him, of course: was it my safety? I told him helittle knew how ill I was--an inglorious speech that came hard, thoughnot by any means untrue. "Move me with this fever on me?" said I; "itwould be as much as my miserable life is worth."

  "I'm afraid," said he, "that it may be as much as your life's worth tostay on here!" And there was such real fear, in his voice and eyes,that it reconciled me there and then to the discomfort of a big revolverbetween the mattress and the small of my back. "We must get you outof it," he continued, "the moment you feel fit to stir. Shall we sayto-morrow?"

  "If you like," I said, advisedly; "and if I can get some sleep to-day."

  "Then to-morrow it is! You see I know it's the climate," he added,jumping from tone to tone; "it couldn't have been those two or threeglasses of sound wine."

  "Shall I tell you what it is?" I said, looking him full in the face,with eyes that I dare say were wild enough with fever and insomnia."It's the burning of the Lady Jermyn!" I cried. "It's the faces and theshrieks of the women; it's the cursing and the fighting of the men; it'sboat-loads struggling in an oily sea; it's husbands and wives jumpingoverboard together; it's men turned into devils, it's hell-fireafloat--"

  "Stop! stop!" he whispered, hoarse as a crow. I was sitting up with myhot eyes upon him. He was white as the quilt, and the bed shook with histrembling. I had gone as far as was prudent, and I lay back with a glowof secret satisfaction.

  "Yes, I will stop," said I, "and I wouldn't have begun if you hadn'tfound it so difficult to understand my trouble. Now you know what itis. It's the old trouble. I came up here to forget it; instead of thatI drink too much and tell you all about it; and the two things togetherhave bowled me over. But I'll go to-morrow; only give me something toput me asleep till then."

  "I will!" he vowed. "I'll go myself to the nearest chemist, and he shallgive me the very strongest stuff he's got. Good-by, and don't you stirtill I come back--for your own sake. I'll go this minute, and I'll ridelike hell!" And if ever two men were glad to be rid of each other, theywere this young villain and myself.

  But what was his villany? It was little enough that I had overheardat the window, and still less that poor Eva had told me in her hurriedlines. All I saw clearly was that the Lady Jermyn and some hundred soulshad perished by the foulest of foul play; that, besides Eva and myself,only the incendiaries had escaped; that somehow these wretches had madea second escape from the gig, leaving dead men and word of their owndeath behind them in the boat. And here the motive was as much a mysteryto me as the means; but, in my present state, both were also mattersof supreme indifference. My one desire was to rescue my love from herloathsome captors; of little else did I pause to think. Yet Rattray'svisit left its own mark on my mind; and long after he was gone I laypuzzling over the connection between a young Lancastrian, of goodname, of ancient property, of great personal charm, and a crime ofunparalleled atrocity committed in cold blood on the high seas. Thathis complicity was flagrant I had no room to doubt, after Eva's ownindictment of him, uttered to his face and in my hearing. Was it thenthe usual fraud on the underwriters, and was Rattray the inevitableaccomplice on dry land? I could think of none but the conventionalmotive for destroying a vessel. Yet I knew there must be another and asubtler one, to account not only for the magnitude of the crime, but forthe pains which the actual perpetrators had taken to conceal the factof their survival, and for the union of so diverse a trinity as SenhorSantos, Captain Harris, and the young squire.

  It must have been about mid-day when Rattray reappeared, ruddy, spurred,and splashed with mud; a comfort to sick eyes, I declare, in spiteof all. He brought me two little vials, put one on the chimney-piece,poured the other into my tumbler, and added a little water.

  "There, old fellow," said he; "swallow that, and if you don't get somesleep the chemist who made it up is the greatest liar unhung."

  "What is it?' I asked, the glass in my hand, and my eyes on those of mycompanion.

  "I don't know," said he. "I just told them to make up the strongestsleeping-draught that was safe, and I mentioned something about yourcase. Toss it off, man; it's sure to be all right."

  Yes, I could trust him; he was not that sort of villain, for all thatEva Denison had said. I liked his face as well as ever. I liked his eye,and could have sworn to its honesty as I drained the glass. Even had itbeen otherwise, I must have taken my chance or shown him all; as it was,when he had pulled down my blind, and shaken my pillow, and he gaveme his hand once more, I took it with involuntary cordiality. I onlygrieved that so fine a young fellow should have involved himself in sovillainous a business; yet for Eva's sake I was glad that he had; formy mind failed (rather than refused) to believe him so black as she hadpainted him.

  The long, long afternoon that followed I never shall forget. The opiateracked my head; it did not do its work; and I longed to sleep tillevening with a longing I have never known before or since. Everythingseemed to depend upon it; I should be a man again, if only I couldfirst be a log for a few hours. But no; my troubles never left me for aninstant; and there I must lie, pretending that they had! For the otherdraught was for the night; and if they but thought the first one hadtaken due effect, so much the less would they trouble their heads aboutme when they believed that I had swallowed the second.

  Oh, but it was cruel! I lay and wept with weakness and want of sleep;ere night fell I knew that it would find me useless, if indeed my reasonlingered on. To lie there helpless when Eva was expecting me, that wouldbe the finishing touch. I should rise a maniac if ever I rose atall. More probably I would put one of my five big bullets into my ownsplitting head; it was no small temptation, lying there in a doubleagony, with the loaded weapon by my side.

  Then sometimes I thought it was coming; and perhaps for an instant wouldbe tossing in my hen-coop; then back once more. And I swear thatmy physical and mental torments, here in my bed, would have beenincomparably greater than anything I had endured on the sea, but for thesaving grace of one sweet thought. She lived! She lived! And the God whohad taken care o me, a castaway, would surely deliver her also f
romthe hands of murderers and thieves. But not through me--I lay weak andhelpless--and my tears ran again and yet again as I felt myself growinghourly weaker.

  I remember what a bright fine day it was, with the grand open countryall smiles beneath a clear, almost frosty sky, once when I got up ontip-toe and peeped out. A keen wind whistled about the cottage; I feltit on my feet as I stood; but never have I known a more perfect andinvigorating autumn day. And there I must lie, with the manhood ebbingOut of me, the manhood that I needed so for the night! I crept back intobed. I swore that I would sleep. Yet there I lay, listening sometimes tothat vile woman's tread below; sometimes to mysterious whispers, betweenwhom I neither knew nor cared; anon to my watch ticking by my side, tothe heart beating in my body, hour after hour--hour after hour. I prayedas I have seldom prayed. I wept as I have never wept. I railed andblasphemed--not with my lips, because the woman must think I wasasleep--but so much the more viciously in my heart.

  Suddenly it turned dark. There were no gradations--not even a tropicaltwilight. One minute I aw the sun upon the blind; the next--thank God!Oh, thank God! No light broke any longer through the blind; just a faintand narrow glimmer stole between it and the casement; and the light thathad been bright golden was palest silver now.

  It was the moon. I had been in dreamless sleep for hours.

  The joy of that discovery! The transport of waking to it, and wakingrefreshed! The swift and sudden miracle that it seemed! I shall never,never forget it, still less the sickening thrill of fear which wascruelly quick to follow upon my joy. The cottage was still as the tomb.What if I had slept too long!

  With trembling hand I found my watch.

  Luckily I had wound it in the early morning. I now carried it to thewindow, drew back the blind, and held it in the moonlight. It was notquite ten o'clock. And yet the cottage was so still--so still.

  I stole to the door, opened it by cautious degrees, and saw thereflection of a light below. Still not a sound could I hear, save therapid drawing of my own breath, and the startled beating of my ownheart.

  I now felt certain that the Braithwaites were out, and dressed hastily,making as little noise as possible, and still hearing absolutely nonefrom below. Then, feeling faint with hunger, though a new being after mysleep, I remembered a packet of sandwiches which I had not opened on myjourney north. These I transferred from my travelling-bag (where theyhad lain forgotten to my jacket pocket), before drawing down the blind,leaving the room on tip-toe, and very gently fastening the door behindme. On the stairs, too, I trod with the utmost caution, feeling the wallwith my left hand (my right was full), lest by any chance I mightbe mistaken in supposing I had the cottage to myself. In spite of mycaution there came a creak at every step. And to my sudden horror Iheard a chair move in the kitchen below.

  My heart and I stood still together. But my right hand tightened onstout wood, my right forefinger trembled against thin steel. The soundwas not repeated. And at length I continued on my way down, my teethset, an excuse on my lips, but determination in every fibre of my frame.

  A shadow lay across the kitchen floor; it was that of the deaf mute, ashe stood on a chair before the fire, supporting himself on the chimneypiece with one puny arm, while he reached overhead with the other. Istood by for an instant, glorying in the thought that he could not hearme; the next, I saw what it was he was reaching up for--a bell-mouthedblunderbuss--and I knew the little devil for the impostor that he was.

  "You touch it," said I, "and you'll drop dead on that hearth."

  He pretended not to hear me, but he heard the click of the splendidspring which Messrs. Deane and Adams had put into that early revolver oftheirs, and he could not have come down much quicker with my bullet inhis spine.

  "Now, then," I said, "what the devil do you mean by shamming deaf anddumb?"

  "I niver said I was owt o' t' sort," he whimpered, cowering behind thechair in a sullen ague.

  "But you acted it, and I've a jolly good mind to shoot you dead!"(Remember, I was so weak myself that I thought my arm would break frompresenting my five chambers and my ten-inch barrel; otherwise I shouldbe sorry to relate how I bullied that mouse of a man.) "I may let youoff," I continued, "if you answer questions. Where's your wife?"

  "Eh, she'll be back directly!" said Braithwaite, with some tact; but hislook was too cunning to give the warning weight. "I've a bullet to sparefor her," said I, cheerfully; "now, then, where is she?"

  "Gone wi' the oothers, for owt I knaw."

  "And where are the others gone?"

  "Where they allus go, ower to t' say."

  "Over to the sea, eh? We're getting on! What takes them there?"

  "That's more than I can tell you, sir," said Braithwaite, with so muchemphasis and so little reluctance as to convince me that for once atleast he had spoken the truth. There was even a spice of malice in histone. I began to see possibilities in the little beast.

  "Well," I said, "you're a nice lot! I don't know what your game is, anddon't want to. I've had enough of you without that. I'm off to-night."

  "Before they get back?" asked Braithwaite, plainly in doubt about hisduty, and yet as plainly relieved to learn the extent of my intention.

  "Certainly," said I; "why not? I'm not particularly anxious to see yourwife again, and you may ask Mr. Rattray from me why the devil he ledme to suppose you were deaf and dumb? Or, if you like, you needn't sayanything at all about it," I added, seeing his thin jaw fall; "tell himI never found you out, but just felt well enough to go, and went. Whendo you expect them back?"

  "It won't be yet a bit," said he.

  "Good! Now look here. What would you say to these?" And I showed him acouple of sovereigns: I longed to offer him twenty, but feared to excitehis suspicions. "These are yours if you have a conveyance at the end ofthe lane--the lane we came up the night before last--in an hour's time."

  His dull eyes glistened; but a tremor took him from top to toe, and heshook his head.

  "I'm ill, man!" I cried. "If I stay here I'll die! Mr. Rattray knowsthat, and he wanted me to go this morning; he'll be only too thankful tofind me gone."

  This argument appealed to him; indeed, I was proud of it.

  "But I was to stop an' look after you," he mumbled; "it'll get me intotrooble, it will that!"

  I took out three more sovereigns; not a penny higher durst I go.

  "Will five pounds repay you? No need to tell your wife it was five, youknow! I should keep four of them all to myself."

  The cupidity of the little wretch was at last overcoming his abjectcowardice. I could see him making up his miserable mind. And I stillflatter myself that I took only safe (and really cunning) steps toprecipitate the process. To offer him more money would have beenmadness; instead, I poured it all back into my pocket.

  "All right!" I cried; "you're a greedy, cowardly, old idiot, and I'lljust save my money." And out I marched into the moonlight, very briskly,towards the lane; he was so quick to follow me that I had no fears ofthe blunderbuss, but quickened my step, and soon had him running at myheels.

  "Stop, stop, sir! You're that hasty wi' a poor owd man." So he whimperedas he followed me like the little cur he was.

  "I'm hanged if I stop," I answered without looking back; and had himalmost in tears before I swung round on him so suddenly that he yelpedwith fear. "What are you bothering me for?" I blustered. "Do you want meto wring your neck?"

  "Oh, I'll go, sir! I'll go, I'll go," he moaned.

  "I've a good mind not to let you. I wouldn't if I was fit to walk fivemiles."

  "But I'll roon 'em, sir! I will that! I'll go as fast as iver I can!"

  "And have a conveyance at the road-end of the lane as near an hour henceas you possibly can?"

  "Why, there, sir!" he cried, crassly inspired; "I could drive you in ourown trap in half the time."

  "Oh, no, you couldn't! I--I'm not fit to be out at all; it must be aclosed conveyance; but I'll come to the end of the lane to save time,so let him wait there. You needn't wait yours
elf; here's a sovereignof your money, and I'll leave the rest in the jug in my bedroom. There!It's worth your while to trust me, I think. As for my luggage, I'llwrite to Mr. Rattray about that. But I'll be shot if I spend anothernight on his property."

  I was rid of him at last; and there I stood, listening to his headlongsteps, until they stumbled out of earshot down the lane; then back tothe cottage, at a run myself, and up to my room to be no worse than myword. The sovereigns plopped into the water and rang together atthe bottom of the jug. In another minute I was hastening through theplantation, in my hand the revolver that had served me well already, andwas still loaded and capped in all five chambers.