Commodore Junk

Humphrey Armstrong had walked to a pile of ruins beneath one of the trees, and seated himself upon a huge stone sculptured round with figures writhing in impossible attitudes, and one and all wearing highly ornamental head-dresses of feathers.

He lay back there as if half drowsy with the heat, and with half-closed eyes looked watchfully round to see whether he was observed. But as far as he could see the place was utterly deserted. Bart, who was often here and there giving a kind of supervision to the buccaneers’ settlement, and seeing that people from the barracks did not collect near the captain’s quarters, seemed to be absent. Dinny, who had been to him an hour before, had gone off on some duty with Dick Dullock, and everything pointed to the fact that this was the opportunity so long sought.

He hesitated no longer; but after casting another glance round at the dark, shadowy nooks among the trees and ruins, all of which seemed purply-black in contrast with the blazing glare of sunshine, he softly slid himself back from the stone and dropped down among the undergrowth, and raised his head to peer among the leaves.

He obtained a good view of the great amphitheatre and the surrounding ruins, but all was still. No one had seen him move, and not a leaf was stirring.

Trifles seemed magnified at those moments into great matters, and with his nerves strung up to the highest pitch of tension he started, for all at once something moved away by the edge of the forest on his left. But it was only a great butterfly which fluttered over the baking stones, above which the air seemed to quiver, and then, with its brightly-painted wings casting a broad shadow, it crossed the ruined amphitheatre and was gone.

Humphrey Armstrong crept from behind his resting-place right to the shelter of the trees at the edge of the forest, and his spirits rose as he found how easy an evasion seemed to be. He had only to secure the co-operation of half a dozen of his men, take advantage of the listlessness of the buccaneers some such hot day as this, make their way down to the shore, seize a boat, and then coast along till a settlement was reached or a ship seen to take them aboard.

It was very simple, and it seemed easier and easier as he got farther away from the ruins and his prison. On his right the forest was dense, but the buccaneers had cut down and burned numbers of trees so as to keep them back from encroaching farther on the old buildings; and along here among the mossy stumps Humphrey Armstrong crept.

But it was easy – nothing seemed more simple. Already he saw himself round on the other side of the ruins, holding communication with his fellow-prisoners and making plans, when, to his great delight, he found that he had hit upon what was evidently a way to the other side of the ancient ruins; for he suddenly came upon a narrow passage through the dense forest growth, literally a doorway cut in the tangle of creepers and vines that were matted among the trees. It must have been an arduous task, but it had been thoroughly done – the vines having been hewn through, or in places half divided and bent back, to go on interlacing at the sides, with the result that a maze-like path ran in and out among the trees.

The moment he was in this path the glare of the sunny day was exchanged for a dim greenish-hued twilight, which darkened with every step he took. Overhead a pencil of sunshine could be seen from time to time, but rarely, for the mighty forest trees interlaced their branches a hundred and fifty feet above his head, and the air was heavy with the moist odour of vegetable decay.

The forest path had evidently been rarely used of late, for the soft earth showed no imprints, the tender sickly growth of these deep shades had not been crushed; and as Humphrey realised these facts, he glanced back, to see how easily his trail could be followed – each step he had taken being either impressed in the vegetable soil or marked by the crushing down of moss or herb.

The sight of this impelled him to additional effort, so that he might gain some definite information about his people, and perhaps seek them by night, when once he had found the means of communication. In this spirit he was hurrying on when he came suddenly, in one of the darkest paths, upon a figure which barred his way, and it was with the addition of a rage-wrung savage exclamation that he uttered his captor’s name.

There was a dead silence in the dark forest as these two stood face to face, buried, as it were, in a gloomy tunnel. After Humphrey’s impatient ejaculation, drawn from him in his surprise, quite a minute elapsed; and then, half-mockingly, came in a deep, low voice —

“Yes! Commodore Junk!”

Humphrey stood glaring down at the obstacle in his path. He was tall and athletic, and, in spite of his weakness and the tales he had heard of the other’s powers, he felt that he could seize this man, hurl him down, and plant his foot upon his chest; for the buccaneer captain was without weapons, and stood looking up at him with one hand resting upon his hips, the other raised to his beardless face, with a well-shaped, small index finger slightly impressing his rounded cheek.

“Yes,” he said again, mockingly, “Commodore Junk! Well, Humphrey Armstrong, what mad fit is this?”

“Mad fit!” cried Humphrey, quickly recovering himself. “You allowed me to be at liberty, and I am exploring the place.”

The buccaneer looked in his eyes, with the mocking smile growing more marked.

“Is this Captain Humphrey Armstrong, the brave commander sent to exterminate me and mine, stooping to make a miserable excuse – to tell a lie!”

“A lie!” cried Humphrey, fiercely, as he took a step in advance.

“Yes, a lie!” said the buccaneer, without moving a muscle. “You were trying to find some way by which you could escape.”

“Well,” cried Humphrey, passionately, “I am a prisoner. I have refused to give my parole; I was trying to find some way of escape.”

“That is more like you,” said the buccaneer, quietly. “Why? What do you require? Are you not well treated by my men?”

“You ask me why,” cried Humphrey – “me, whom you have defeated – disgraced, and whom you hold here a prisoner. You ask me why!”

“Yes. I whom you would have taken, and, if I had not died sword in hand, have hung at your yard-arm, and then gibbeted at the nearest port as a scarecrow.”

He was silent, and the buccaneer went on —

“I have looked back, and I cannot see you placing a cabin at my disposal, seeing me nursed back from the brink of death, treated as a man would treat his wounded brother.”

“No,” cried Humphrey, quickly; “and why have you done all this when it would have been kinder to have slain me on that wretched day?”

“Why have I done this!” said the buccaneer, with the colour deepening in his swarthy face. “Ah, why have I done this! Perhaps,” he continued bitterly, “because I said to myself: ‘This is a brave, true, English gentleman;’ and I find instead a man who does not hesitate to lie to screen his paltry effort to escape.”

Humphrey made a menacing gesture; but the buccaneer did not stir.

“Look here, sir,” he continued. “I am in this place more powerful among my people than the king you serve. You smile; but you will find that it is true.”

“If I am not killed, sir, trying to make some effort to escape.”

“Escape!” cried the buccaneer, with his face lighting up. “Man, you have been warned before that you cannot escape. The forest beyond where we stand is one dense thicket through which no man can pass unless he cut his way inch by inch. It is one vast solitude, standing as it has stood since the world was made.”

“Bah!” cried Humphrey, scornfully. “A determined man could make his way.”

“How far!” cried the buccaneer. “A mile – two miles – and then, what is there? – starvation, fever, and death – lest in that vast wilderness. Even the Indians cannot penetrate those woods and mountains. Will you not take my word!”

“Would you take mine,” said Humphrey, scornfully, “if our places were changed! I shall escape.”

The buccaneer smiled.

“You have an easy master, captain,” he said, quietly; “but I would like to see you wear your chains more easily. Humphrey Armstrong, you cannot escape. There is only one way from this place, and that is by the sea, and there is no need to guard that. Look here,” he cried, laying his hand upon the prisoner’s arm, “you have been planning this for days and days. You have lain out yonder upon that stone by the old palace, calculating how you could creep away; and you found your opportunity to-day, when you said to yourself, ‘These people are all asleep now, and I will find my way round to where my men are prisoners.’”

As he spoke Humphrey changed colour and winced, for the buccaneer seemed to have read his every thought.

“And then you came upon this path through the forest, and you felt that this was the way to freedom.”

“Are you a devil?” cried Humphrey, excitedly.

“Perhaps,” was the mocking reply. “Perhaps only the great butterfly you watched before you started, as it lazily winged its way among the broken stones.”

Humphrey uttered an exclamation, and gazed wildly in the dark, mocking eyes.

“Never mind what I am, captain, but pray understand this – you cannot escape from here. When you think you are most alone, there are eyes upon you which see your every act, and your movements are all known.”

“I will not believe it,” cried Humphrey, angrily.

“Then disbelieve it; but it is true. I tell you there is no escape, man. You may get away a few miles perhaps, but every step you take bristles with the threatenings of death. So be warned, and bear your fate patiently. Wait! Grow strong once more.”

“And then!” cried Humphrey, excitedly. “What then?”

“Ah, yes,” said the buccaneer, who assumed not to have heard his words, “you are still weak. That flush in your face is the flush of fever, and you are low and excited.”

“Dog! You are mocking me!” cried Humphrey, furiously, for he felt the truth of every word that had been said, and his impotence maddened him.

“Dog!” cried the buccaneer as furiously.

“Yes; wretched cut-throat – murderer,” cried Humphrey – “miserable wretch, whom I could strangle where you stand!”

The buccaneer turned of a sallow pallor, his brow knit, his eyes flashed, and his chest heaved, as he stood glaring at Humphrey; but the sudden storm of passion passed away, and with a smile of pity he said softly —

“You call names like a petulant boy. Come, I am not angry with you, let us go back to your room. The heat of this place is too much for you, and to-morrow you will be down with fever.”

“Humph!” ejaculated Humphrey, angrily.

“It is true,” said the buccaneer. “Come.”

“There’s something behind all this,” cried the young man, excitedly. “We are alone here. I am the stronger; and, in spite of your boasting, there is no one here to help. You shall speak out, and tell me what this means.”

His gesture was threatening now; but the buccaneer did not stir.

“I am not alone,” he said, quietly. “I never am without someone to protect me. But there, you shall be answered. Why have I had you tended as I have? Well, suppose I have said to myself, ‘Here is a brave man who should be one of us.’”

“One of you!” cried Humphrey, with a scornful laugh.

“Suppose,” continued the buccaneer, with his nether lip quivering slightly, “I had said to myself, ‘You are alone here. Your men obey you, but you have no friends among them – no companions whom you can trust. Why not make this man your friend?’”

Humphrey smiled, and the buccaneer’s lip twitched slightly as he continued —

“You are fevered and disappointed now, and I shall not heed your words. I tell you once for all that you must accept your fate here as others have accepted theirs. I need not tell you that for one to escape from here would be to bring ruin upon all. Hence every one is his brother’s guardian; and the Indians for hundreds of miles around, at first our enemies till they felt my power, are now my faithful friends.”

Humphrey laughed mockingly.

“You laugh, sir. Well it is the laugh of ignorance, as you will find. It is no idle boast when I say that I am king here over my people, and the tribes to north and south.”

“The Indians too?” said Humphrey.

“Yes, the Indians too, as you found to your cost.”

“To my cost?”

“To your cost. Your ship was in my way. You troubled me; and your people had to be removed. Well, they were removed.”

“The treacherous hounds!” cried Humphrey, grinding his teeth as he recalled the action of the two Indians, and their escape.

“Treacherous! No. You would have employed men to betray me; it was but fighting you with your own weapons, sir; and these you call treacherous hounds were true, brave fellows who risked their lives to save me and mine.”

Humphrey was silent.

“Come, Captain Armstrong; you will suffer bitterly for this. There are chills and fevers in the depths of this forest which seize upon strangers like you, especially upon those weakened by their wounds, and I do not want to lose the officer and gentleman who is to be my friend and help here, where I am, as it were, alone.”

“Your friend and help!” said Humphrey, haughtily. “I am your prisoner, sir; but you forget to whom you are speaking. How dare you ask me to link my fate with that of your cut-throat band – to share with you a life of plunder and disgrace, with the noose at the yard-arm of every ship in His Majesty’s Navy waiting to end your miserable career? I tell you – I tell you – ”

He made a clutch at the nearest branch to save himself, for his head swam, black spots veiled in mist and strangely blurred seemed to be descending from above to form a blinding veil before his eyes. He recovered himself for a moment, long enough to resent the hand stretched out to save him, and then all was blank, and with a hoarse sigh he would have fallen heavily but for the strong arms that caught him, held him firmly for a few moments, and then a faint catching sigh was heard in the stillness of the forest, as Humphrey Armstrong was lowered slowly upon the moss and a soft brown hand laid upon his forehead, as the buccaneer bent down upon one knee by his side.

“Want me?” said a deep low voice; and the buccaneer started as if from a dream, with his face hardening, and the wrinkles which had been smoothed reappearing deeply in the broad forehead.

“You here, Bart?”

“Ay, I’m here.”

“Watching me?”

“Ay, watching of you.”

The buccaneer rose and gave the interloper an angry look.

“Well, why not!” said Bart. “How did I know what he’d do?”

“And you’ve seen and heard all?”

“Everything,” said Bart, coolly.

“When I told you to be within hearing only if I whistled or called.”

“What’s the use of that when a blow or a stab would stop them both?”

“Bart, I – ”

“Go on, I don’t mind,” said Bart, quietly, “I want to live, and if you was to come to harm that would be the end of me.”

The buccaneer gave an impatient stamp, but Bart paid no heed.

“Give me a lift up and I’ll carry him back,” he said quietly.

All this was done, and Dinny summoned, so that when, an hour later, Humphrey unclosed his eyes, it was with his head throbbing with fever, a wild half-delirious dreaminess troubling his brain, and the great stone image glaring down at him through the dim green twilight of the prison room.

It was a bitter experience for the prisoner to find that he had overrated his powers. The effort, the excitement, and the malaria of the forest prostrated him for a fortnight, and at the end of that time he found that he was in no condition to make a further attempt at securing the means of escape.

He lay in his gloomy chamber thinking over the buccaneer’s insolent proposal, and fully expected that he would resent the way in which it had been received; but to his surprise he received the greatest of attention, and wine, fruit, and various delicacies that had evidently come from the stores of some well-found ship were placed before him to tempt his appetite.

Dinny was his regular attendant, and always cheery and ready to help him in every way; but no more was said for a time respecting an evasion, though Humphrey was waiting his time; for after lying for hours, day after day, debating his position, he came to the conclusion that if he did escape it must be through this light-spirited Irishman.

His captor did not come to him as far as he knew; but he had a suspicion that more than once the buccaneer had been watching from some point or another unknown to him. But one day a message was brought by Bart, who entered the gloomy chamber and in his short, half-surly way thus delivered himself —

“Orders from the skipper, sir.”

“Orders from your captain!” said Humphrey, flushing.

“To say that he is waiting for your answer, sir.”

“My answer, man? I gave him my answer.”

“And that he can wait any time; but a message from you that you want to see him will bring him here.”

“There is no other answer,” said Humphrey, coldly.

“Better not say that,” said Bart, after standing gazing at the prisoner for some time.

“What do you mean?” cried Humphrey, haughtily.

“Don’t know. What am I to say to the captain?”

“I have told you. There is no answer,” said Humphrey, coldly, and he turned away, but lay listening intently, for it struck him that he had heard a rustle in the great stone corridor without, as if someone had been listening; but the thick carpet-like curtain fell, and he heard no more, only lay watching the faint rays of light which descended through the dense foliage of the trees, as some breeze waved them softly, far on high, and slightly relieved the prevailing gloom.

Bart’s visit had started a current of thought which was once more running strongly when Dinny entered with a basket of the delicious little grapes which grew wild in the sunny open parts of the mountain slopes.

“There, sor,” he said, “and all me own picking, except about half of them which Misthress Greenheys sint for ye. Will ye take a few bunches now?”

“Dinny,” said Humphrey in a low earnest voice, “have you thought of what I said to you?”

“Faix, and which? what is it ye mane, sor?”

“You know what I mean, man: about helping me to escape from here?”

“About helping ye to eshcape, sor? Oh, it’s that ye mane!”

“Yes, man; will you help me?”

“Will I help ye, sor? D’ye see these threes outside the windy yonder, which isn’t a windy bekase it has no glass in it?”

“Yes, yes, I see,” cried Humphrey with all a sick man’s petulance.

“Well, they’ve got no fruit upon ’em, sor.”

“No, of course not. They are not of a fruit-bearing kind. What of that!”

“Faix, an’ if I helped ye to eshcape, captain, darlin’, sure and one of ’em would be having fruit hanging to it before the day was out, and a moighty foine kind of pear it would be.”

Chapter Twenty Six

Under Another Rule

“You’re to keep to your prison till further orders,” said Bart one day as he entered the place.

“Who says so!” cried Humphrey, angrily.

“Lufftenant.”

“What! Mazzard?”

“Yes, sir. His orders.”

“Curse Lieutenant Mazzard!” cried Humphrey. “Where is the captain!”

No answer.

“Is this so-called lieutenant master here!”

“Tries to be,” grumbled Bart.

“The captain is away, then?”

“Orders are, not to answer questions,” said Bart, abruptly; and he left the chamber.

Humphrey was better. The whims and caprices of a sick man were giving way to the return of health, and with this he began to chafe angrily.

He laughed bitterly and seated himself by the window to gaze out at the dim arcade of forest, and wait till such time as he felt disposed to go out, and then have a good wander about the ruins, and perhaps go down that path where he had been arrested by the appearance of the captain.

He had no hope of encountering any of his crew, for, from what he could gather, fully half the survivors, sick of the prisoner’s life, had joined the buccaneer crew, while the rest had been taken to some place farther along the coast – where, he could not gather from Dinny, who had been letting his tongue run and then suddenly stopped short. But all the same he clung to the hope that in the captain’s absence he might discover something which would help him in his efforts to escape and come back, if not as commander, at all events as guide to an expedition that should root out this hornets’-nest.

Mid-day arrived, and he was looking forward to the coming of Dinny with his meal, an important matter to a man with nothing to do, and only his bitter thoughts for companions. The Irishman lightened his weary hours too, and every time he came the captive felt some little hope of winning him over to help him to escape.

“Ah, Dinny, my lad!” he said as he heard a step, and the hanging curtain was drawn aside, “what is it to-day?”

“Fish, eggs, and fruit,” said Bart, gruffly.

“Oh! it’s you!” said Humphrey, bitterly. “Dinny away with that cursed schooner!”

“Schooner’s as fine a craft as ever sailed,” growled Bart. “Orders to answer no questions.”

“You need not answer, my good fellow,” said the prisoner, haughtily. “That scoundrel of a buccaneer is away – I know that, and Dinny is with him, or you would not be doing this.”

Bart’s heavy face lightened as he saw the bitterness of the prisoner’s manner when he spoke of the captain; but it grew sombre directly after, as if he resented it; and spreading the meal upon a broad stone, covered with a white cloth – a stone in front of the great idol, and probably once used for human sacrifice – he sullenly left the place.

The prisoner sat for a few minutes by the window wondering whether Lady Jenny was thinking about him, and sighed as he told himself that she was pining for him as he pined for her. Then turning to the mid-day meal he began with capital appetite, and not at all after the fashion of a man in love, to discuss some very excellent fish, which was made more enjoyable by a flask of fine wine.

“Yes,” he said, half aloud, “I shall go just where I please.”

He stopped and listened, for a voice certainly whispered from somewhere close at hand the word “Kelly!”

“Yes! what is it? Who called?” said the prisoner, aloud.

There was a momentary silence, and then a peculiar whispering voice said —

“Don’t be frightened.”

“I’m not,” said Humphrey, trying to make out whence the voice came, and only able to surmise that it was from somewhere over the dark corner where he slept.

“I want Dennis Kelly,” said the voice.

“He’s not here. Away with the schooner,” continued Humphrey.

“Oh!”

The ejaculation came like a moan of disappointment.

“Here, who are you?” cried Humphrey.

“No; he cannot be away, sir. But hist! hush, for heaven’s sake! You will be heard,” said the voice. “Speak low.”

“Well, I’ll speak in a whisper if you like,” said Humphrey. “But where are you?”

“Up above your chamber,” was the reply. “There is a place where the stones are broken away.”

“Then I am watched,” thought Humphrey, as the announcement recalled the captain.

“Can you see me?” he asked.

“I cannot see you where you are now, but I could if you went and lay down upon your couch.”

“Then I’ll go there,” said Humphrey, crossing the great chamber to throw himself on the blankets and skins. “Now, then, what do you want with Dinny?”

“I knew the captain had gone to sea,” said the voice, evasively; “but I did not know Kelly had been taken too. He cannot be, without letting me know.”

“Can you come down and talk to me!”

“No; you are too well watched.”

“Then how did you get here?”

“I crept through the forest and climbed up,” was the reply. “I can see you now.”

“But how did you know you could see me there?”

“I thought I could. I was watching for someone a little while ago, and saw the captain looking down through here.”

“I thought as much,” said Humphrey, half aloud; and he was about to speak again when Bart entered suddenly, looked sharply round, and showed the wisdom of his new visitor by going straight to the window and looking out.

“Who were you talking to?” he said, gruffly, as he came back, still looking suspiciously round.

“To myself,” said Humphrey, quite truthfully, for his last remark had been so addressed.

Bart uttered a grunt, and glanced at the dinner.