CHAPTER XXIII
HOW RODRIGUES GOT AT THE TRUTH, AND A LIE INTO THE BARGAIN
Hearing these sounds, I say, I was assured that the negro did intend to burst open the trap and take revenge for the wound I had dealt him, and I have good reason to believe that this was his intent and purpose, for standing on the hatch to lend strength to the bolt that secured it, I felt it move beneath my feet; nay, the very boards cracked under the force of his broad shoulders against it.
But this prodigious effort was too much for the strength of the wounded wretch. Presently we heard a hoarse cry of rage, and then a heavy fall, as if he had yielded to a faintness and pitched down once more to the ground.
After that we heard no movement below, nor any sound whatever; neither was any further attempt made to raise the trap.
Seeing that Lady Biddy was very much overwrought by this excitement and her previous want of rest, I implored her to return to the other cabin and seek repose – pointing out that we had no more to fear from the black, and promising that, should anything happen to the contrary, I would not fail to let her know. And listening at length to my persuasions, she went back as I bade her, lowered the wick of her lamp, and did, after awhile, as she told me in the morning, unconsciously fall asleep. For my own part, I spent the rest of that night seated on the hatch, never once closing my eyes or relaxing my watch.
In the morning Lady Biddy, coming to me, whispered that search was being made for the negro; indeed, I could with my own ears hear the men bellowing in different parts, "Tonga! Tonga!" which was the name of this fellow.
I bade Lady Biddy go back again to her cabin, and seem to know nothing of what this search meant.
Soon after she had returned there, Rodrigues comes to her, and, with a vast show of respect and consideration, begged she would have patience to wait a little while for her breakfast, as the cook was not at his post, and could not be found.
"I remarked his manner was strange all day yesterday," says he, "and it is as like as not he has thrown himself overboard in a fit of madness, produced by the heat of the sun. However," he adds, "this accident shall not interfere with your convenience, for I will dress your victuals with my own hands rather than they shall be ill-served." And with this polite speech he makes his
congé
and leaves my lady.
At noon, when the boy had served the dinner, Rodrigues came again to apologize for the quality of the food, saying that they had run short of provisions with having been so long at sea, but that he hoped to provide her with fresh meat and fruit before twenty-four hours, as land was in sight, and he counted to cast anchor the following morning.
Lady Biddy replied as graciously as she could to one whom she so loathed and despised, and in this (despite her natural repugnance to hypocrisy or deceit) her wit was aided by the comfort of this news, and the knowledge that our chance of escape would be greatly aided by lulling Rodrigues' suspicion.
He said not a word about marriage, and indeed behaved himself with becoming civility; and to make him believe that he had succeeded in producing a more favorable impression on herself, Lady Biddy begged him, when he was going, to leave the door wide open that she might have the benefit of the air.
About two o'clock, when all the company were resting (for in these latitudes it is impossible to work while the sun is in the meridian), Lady Biddy came into the little cabin, and with great glee told me what had passed and how we were nearing land.
"But," says she, "if we come to an anchor in the morning, will it be possible to escape in broad daylight?"
"No," says I; "that we can not, unless we should get away when all are taking their noon rest. But there is no necessity to run great peril by haste. Water, I doubt not, is what is much needed. As Rodrigues said nothing about reaching a port, it is pretty evident he is running to land for the immediate refreshment of his company. They will not be content getting on shore to embark again at once even if they succeed in finding a freshet for the filling of their barrels. Any way I feel certain we shall not lift anchor again for twenty-four hours, and that will give us the night to make our escape in."
Satisfied with this assurance, Lady Biddy returned to the next cabin, after bathing her sweet hands and face, leaving me to turn over in my mind a hundred schemes for our deliverance; yet none could I hit on but what seemed desperate in the extreme.
Nothing occurred to disturb Lady Biddy's repose the succeeding night, to her great refreshment no less to my satisfaction.
Shortly after daybreak there was much bustle on deck, and presently I heard the anchor drop, whereupon, as if the moment of our release were come, my heart bounded with joy, and I scraped at the wall to awake Lady Biddy. By her quick reply, I knew that the sound had aroused her, and she had divined its meaning.
Then there arose a great hallooing and shouting amongst the men, who seemed no less pleased than we, though from another cause. But there was yet much to be done before a boat could be sent ashore. However, the fellows set about their work with a will, and now there was nothing but singing and laughing over it, whereas before they had gone about their business in sullen silence.
It may have been about eight o'clock when the merriment on board was of a sudden hushed, and Lady Biddy, looking from the door to see what this might mean, perceived a seaman coming up the hatchway in the fore part of the ship, with a jar and a bundle in one hand, and dragging the cook's boy up by the hair of his head with the other. Being come on deck he lead the urchin, crying lustily, towards Rodrigues, who was standing not far from the roundhouse.
"I've watched the little hound as you bid me, your honor," says the man, addressing Rodrigues; "and I ketched him sneaking down below with these here, which he dropped when he sees me, whereby I knowed he was up to no good."
"What are those?" asks Rodrigues, indicating the jar and the bundle.
"A noggin o' water, your honor," says the seaman; "and," he adds (undoing the clout), "a mess o' wittles. Axed me not to tell you, your honor."
"Whom were you taking those things to?" asks Rodrigues.
"No one, your honor," cries the boy, whimpering. "I was a-going to eat 'em myself."
"Whom were you taking them to?" Rodrigues repeats, in the same even tone.
The boy looked at him, and, clasping his wretched little hands, cried for mercy.
"Overboard with him," says Rodrigues.
A couple of men seized hold of him.
"Spare me! spare me!" cries the child. "I'll tell if you'll only spare me."
"Out with it!" says Rodrigues.
"I was carrying 'em to Tonga."
Rodrigues hereupon nodded to a group of fellows, who, taking the boy for their guide, went forward and so down the hatchway below. Meanwhile, the captain turned upon his heel, so that he faced the window where Lady Biddy was watching, and she observed that there was a malicious smile on his wicked face, as though he was satisfied to find his surmise justified. And while he was walking towards the coach with his head bent, he raised his eyes, yet without lifting his head, and under his black brows cast a strange glance at my lady.
Presently those men who had gone below returned, bringing with them the boy and the negro. And this man was fearful to look on because of the mess of dried blood upon him, an open wound in his shoulder, and the sickness of fear in his face as he was haled before Rodrigues. Yet, for all his fear, there was rage of passion in his eye as he caught sight of Lady Biddy, and also when he looked at the boy, who shrank away from him in dread.
"You look sick, Tonga. What has ailed you?" asked Rodrigues, as if he looked to get a satisfactory answer.
Tonga nodded, and in a hoarse voice told, with such queer speech as negroes use, how the heat had made him giddy, so that he fell down the hatch into the hold, and lay there unable to move.
"You seem to have fallen on something that ought not to be in the hold," says Rodrigues, going close up to him and looking at his wound, the fellow being stark naked to the waist. "It looks as if it had been done with a knife. How's that?"
The negro swore he knew not how he had come by this wound.
"You can not tell me?" says Rodrigues, airily.
Tonga shook his head.
"You were so giddy you knew not what happened."
Tonga nodded, grinning, yet with little taste to mirth, but uneasily.
"Well," says Rodrigues, "we must hear what your little friend can tell us about it. Come, my boy – what do you know about this business?"
The boy, shivering in every limb (as with a quartan), glanced at the black, who returned a wicked look of warning.
"I know naught, your honor," cries the little fellow, "save that he called to me from below for meat and drink."
"Nothing else?"
"Naught, your honor."
Then Rodrigues says a word to two of the seamen, who straightway ran to the fore end and came back, bearing a long plank betwixt them; and this they set athwart the bulwarks, a little less than midway of its length, and with its longer end resting on a chest that stood over that way.
"Get up!" says Rodrigues.
The boy, not knowing what was toward, and mightily perplexed, did as he was bidden, and so stood up facing Rodrigues. But one of the seamen, cursing him for his went of manners – as he put it – twisted him round so that he faced the sea.
"Walk!" cried Rodrigues, when the boy was thus positioned.
Whereupon the boy, still unwitting, walked forward towards the bulwarks and there stopped.
"Walk!" cries Rodrigues, a little louder than heretofore.
Then the perplexed boy made another step forward, but seeing that if he walked further he must overbalance the board, and so shoot into the sea below, he stopped again.
"Walk!" cries Rodrigues again, this time whipping out his sword.
Then the boy, seeing the meaning of this, fell upon his knees, crying for pity, and telling all he knew and had hitherto concealed – to wit, that Tonga did make him draw the bolt of the trap in the captain's cabin that morning he went for his silver-braided coat, and that it was from the armory and not from the hold the black cried to him for drink, and also that he had helped him to get down in the hold, and dared not do otherwise for fear of his life.
"You hear this, Tonga," says Rodrigues. "Now will you tell me how you got that cut?"
"She did it!" roars the negro, with the ferocity of any tiger, pointing with his hand towards Lady Biddy, while flames of fire seemed to flash in his eyes. "She did it!"
CHAPTER XXIV
LADY BIDDY SORELY PUT TO IT WHETHER TO TELL THE TRUTH OR HOLD HER TONGUE
Without turning to see whom the negro indicated, or what effect this charge made upon her, Rodrigues said:
"That is a lie. No woman's hand struck that blow." Then, turning to his boatswain, he gave him instructions to pipe the whole company together and see that no man was wanting. This the boatswain did, and when all the men were ranged across the deck in a line with the plank, on which the wretched boy still knelt, crying bitterly, Tonga standing before them, and Rodrigues facing him sword in hand, the latter spoke:
"Tonga would have us believe he was struck down by a woman," says he. "What say you?"
The men, as much to support their captain as of their own conviction, shook their heads and cried "No!"
"Then," says Rodrigues, "it follows that one of you struck the blow, which, by those rules to which all have put their hands, is a treacherous offence, to be punished with death. Which of you did it?"
To this no one made reply, but all stood mumchance, spying their fellows to see if any did bear guilt in their face; but all looked innocent of this offense, as Rodrigues, with his discriminating eye, could well perceive. When he had looked them all over in silence, waiting an answer, he said, "Not a soul leaves this ship, though you go dry another fortnight, till the truth is found out. I give Tonga into your hands. Employ what means you choose – short of taking his life – to get a true confession from him."
Then, turning again towards the boy, he cried, "Stand up! limb of the devil – up with you!"
The poor little wretch stood up for fear of the glittering sword, but still with his hands clasped, and the tears running down his cheeks.
"Walk!" again cries Rodrigues; "there is no place in this ship for a liar."
The child turned his face to the sea with a pitiful moan.
Then Lady Biddy, seeing his sorrowful case, and that he was to be forced to his death, was moved to desperation by the passionate pity in her heart, and so bursting from the cabin she ran forward to save him. But it was too late; the child, seeing no escape from death by the sword or the sea, and being mayhap tempted to the latter because it looked so fair and cool, with a shrill cry of despair ran suddenly forward, so that, the plank tilting up, he was plunged headlong down into the waves. At the sight of this cruel business, Lady Biddy stopped midway in the deck and covered her face with her hands, while that last despairing cry of the child's was echoed back from her own compassionate breast.
Of all this I saw nothing, being within the little cabin; yet I was conscious that something unusual was going forward in the ship by a sound or two that came to my ear as I stood by the panel-door. Thus, as I stood straining my senses to make out the meaning of these sounds, I heard a quick movement in the next chamber, and scarce a moment afterwards that pitiful cry of Lady Biddy's which I have spoken of. Then, heedless of my danger, and that I had no weapon for her defense but the hands God gave me, I tore open the door and leapt into the next cabin, expecting nothing less than to find my lady at the feet of Rodrigues. Discovering no such matter, but spying Lady Biddy standing alone a few paces from the door, I was much taken aback, yet not so much but that I at once recognized my folly and imprudence in thus exposing myself; seeing that, as luck would have it, I was still unobserved – having gone no further into the cabin than enabled me to catch sight of my lady where she stood close beyond the outer door – I drew back at once within the little cabin.
Being there, I stood irresolute, not knowing what to do for the best for the tumult of my mind. For I could make out nothing of what I had seen; yet was I pretty sure that a climax was at hand – the more so because I presently heard Rodrigues speaking to Lady Biddy in the next chamber. At length, making up my mind to be ready for the worst, and not to be taken by surprise in the manner I have shown, I went to the lantern which stood under the cot, and turned up the wick so that it gave a good flame, laid the grenade beside it, ready to fire the fuse at any moment, and then going to the corner turned back the strip of carpet, and drew back the bolt of the trap.
These preparations being made, I returned to the little door and leaned my ear against it, and then hearing no sound within I went to that part of the wall over against where my lady did use to sit, and made the usual signal to her by scratching a little upon the panel. To this she replied, not cheerfully as before, but feebly, as though she had lost heart. Yet it was a comfort to me to know she was there and Rodrigues gone.
Now must I go back somewhat.
As Lady Biddy stood with her hands to her face, shutting out the sight of that heartless cruelty put upon the child who had waited upon her (and to whom she had shown many a kindness, giving him sweetmeats from her table and the like), Rodrigues comes up to her.
"Why, madam," says he, "do you take the death of this little traitor to heart? Sure, I counted to have pleased you by revenging the injury to your person he did his best to further. Be comforted, I pray you." With this he would have laid his hand upon her arm, but that she shrank from him in loathing, and turning about returns to her cabin.
"The boy is at peace," says Rodrigues, walking by her side. "And is it not better he should die now rather than grow up to be a hardened villain? May I fetch you a glass of wine to restore your spirits?" he asks when they were come into the cabin, and Lady Biddy had sunk down upon the sofett.
She shook her head, yet without trusting herself to look upon him.
Fetching a sigh, Rodrigues seated himself near her, and says he:
"Doubtless you think me cold-blooded and heartless; yet I do assure you I am not. But while I command this ship I must exercise severity, for only by inspiring fear can I obtain the respect and obedience of my company. When I am no longer a pirate you will see that my nature is different. Heaven knows I shall be enchanted to abandon this horrid career – to quit for ever a lawless life, and give example of humane sentiments. It is in your power to make that hand an instrument of charity and mercy which, hitherto, you have seen exercised only in necessary severity; and this reflection will, I trust, reconcile you to our speedy union."
With this hint he leaves her – to my lady's satisfaction.
Meanwhile the company, after conferring together, laid hands on Tonga, vowing that if he would not willingly confess who had stabbed him they would certainly avail themselves of their captain's permission and force him to do so by torture. But the black could do no more than repeat what he had told already – viz., that he had been stabbed and thrown down into the armory as he was entering the cabin above, adding that if Lady Biddy had not struck the blow he knew not who had, for there was no light to see what hand it was.
"Well," says the boatswain, "you'll have to name one of us, that's certain, for the comfort of the rest. But mark you, be careful not to name any who can prove his innocence, for if you play us a scurvy trick of that sort we'll burn the soles off your feet."
As he made no reply, for fear of subjecting himself to the horrid torture they threatened, they took a cord that ran through a block at the yard-arm, and with one end they bound his wrists together behind his back. When he was thus secured, they pulled upon the other end of this same cord till he swung over the bulwarks and hung over the sea.
By keeping his muscles tense and his wrists well down against the small of his back, Tonga hung in mid-air for some time without suffering. But gradually the effort to keep his position increased as the weight of his great body inclining forward taxed the muscles of his arms, as you shall find if you do but try such an experiment. Presently one of those who held the other end of the line hitched over a spar, growing impatient of his endurance, gave the cord a sudden jerk, whereby the black's wrists were wrenched away from his loins, so that now his muscles were powerless, as one may say, while his vast bulk, hanging thus at an angle with his wrists, threatened to drag his arms out of their sockets.
This torment the black endured for some while in peace; but at length, when another jerk was given to the cord, he uttered a great yell of rage and agony.
Hearing that terrible cry, Lady Biddy could no longer endure to witness such suffering, and again ran from her cabin, bidding the seamen in mercy to desist from