Dutch the Diver: or, A Man's Mistake

“Very pretty, ’Pollo, if we could do it: but as we can’t, let’s be content with what we get from the governors.”

“Yah – yah – yah – yah,” laughed ’Pollo softly.

“Now then, what are you grinning about?” said Oakum.

“I tink, sah, about de sunken ship and de silber.”

“What of it?”

“I tink, sah, how funny it am if we came out here, find de sunk ship, pull up all de silber, and den if we go and lose de ship somewheres else, and all de silber go to de bottom again.”

“I say, young fellow,” growled Sam, “don’t you get croaking like that. ’Taint lucky.”

“No, sah; wouldn’t be lucky lose all de silber again. I tink I know how much I go to hab for my share.”

“Enough to make you an independent gentleman for life, ’Pollo.”

“You tink so, sah?” chuckled ’Pollo.

“Sartin sure.”

“Den I wear white hankcher and white wescoat ebery day; and make some darn niggah clean my boots free times over. Yah, yah, yah.”

“Here, I shall be smothered if I stop up here much longer, ’Pollo,” said Oakum, stepping out upon the deck, where all was dark and silent, only a very faint light now coming up through the cabin skylight.

“It am hot, sar, berry hot,” said ’Pollo, and they stood at the side staring at the shore, where the undergrowth seemed to be lit up by a shower of fallen stars, which leaped and danced from leaf to leaf, while the very sea beneath them seemed alive with pale shining points of light, which glided softly along till some fish darted through the water and made the little starry dots flash into a long line of light. Against the side of the ship there seemed to be so much pale golden light rising and falling, showing the copper sheathing of the vessel, and surrounding it with a soft halo which made its shape just faintly outlined from stem to stern. The cables, too, by which it was moored could be faintly traced as lines of light illuminated and sparkling right to the sand below, and for some little time the two men stood watching in silence.

“Dat’s shark,” whispered ’Pollo, suddenly, as he pointed down to where the points of light flashed more vividly as they were agitated, and though they could not make out the shape of the monster, it was plain to see that some great fish was slowly gliding through the water.

“What’s he hanging about after?” said Oakum, watching the place intently. “I should have thought it had been made too warm for them gentlemen, and they’d have give us a wide berth.”

“He know somebody go to die soon,” said ’Pollo, in a low voice. “Dat Mass’ Studwick or pretty Missee Pugh.”

“Don’t you talk humbug,” said Oakum, with a growl. “Phew! it’s strange and hot; I shall go and turn in.”

“You soon turn out again. Mass’ Oakum, you go below. De cockroach hab fine game night like dis hyar, sah, and de skeetas buzz bout like anyfing. You top on deck and lay down under de awning. Dey coming on deck dose oder chap half baked, sah.”

“How do you know?” growled Sam.

“I hear some one, sah, just now come crawl up, and – Oh, Goramighty, who hit me on de head?”

For just then there was a dull thud, a fall, and Sam Oakum felt himself seized from behind, and a hard hand placed over his mouth.

He was too sturdy a fellow, though, to submit to that, and wrenching himself free he sent one of his assailants one way, and the other sprawling over the body of ’Pollo, and darting aside, he gave a spring, caught at the inner side of the main shrouds, swung his legs up, and as the two men ran in pursuit of him they passed beneath him in the darkness, and he climbed softly up higher and higher, then crawling round to the outside, and clung there, gazing down into the darkness below, feeling that he had had a narrow escape for his life.

“The ship’s been boarded in the dark,” he muttered, as he listened attentively, seeing nothing, but making out something of the proceedings by the sounds below.

Now came the noise of the cabin hatches being secured; then there were short, sharp orders here and there, followed by a struggle, a wild cry, and a heavy fall. Then came the splash heard below in the cabin, and Oakum muttered to himself:

“There’s one poor fellow gone to his long home.”

Then he set himself to make out who it could be, but his attention was taken off directly by sounds of the alarm having spread below.

“And now how about all the silver?” muttered Oakum. “That’s about the size of what this here means.”

Sam was right, for the ship had been seized for the sake of the silver found, and that which was to be discovered, for Lauré had decided that it was not safe to stay any longer. He had been waiting his time, and had there been no chance of discovery he intended to let Parkley and Dutch go from wreck to wreck, and obtain all the sunken treasure possible before seizing the vessel. But now the plot seemed so ripe that if allowed to go further it might fail, so, exasperated by his encounter that evening, he had whispered his intentions to the men under his orders, unfortunately more than half the crew, and as Sam Oakum listened from aloft he could hear the scoundrels hurrying about, the hatches secured, and then proceedings followed that showed him that the alarm had fully spread.

First there was the shivering of a skylight, Captain Studwick calling out to know what the noise meant, followed by beating and kicking at the door; and then several shots were fired followed by a dead silence, broken by Lauré’s voice giving orders in a sharp, business-like way.

“I wonder where poor old ’Pollo is,” said Sam Oakum as he sat upon his perch thinking, and by force of habit he took out his tobacco-box, helped himself to a bit, and began to consider about the perils of his position. Where he was would do very well for now, he argued, but as soon as the day began to break he would be seen, and then the probabilities were that he would be shot down.

“Leastwise, p’haps, they’ll let me off as soon as I say I’ll jyne ’em, but that won’t come off. Now, who’s in this game, I wonder? That yaller-skinned mulatto chap’s one for a dollar, and there’s roughs enough among those as came aboard with him to make up a pretty crew, I’ll swear.”

Sam sat thinking while the captors of the vessel were pretty busy down below, and at last, one plug of tobacco being ended, he started upon another, but this time not being so cautious, or rather having his attention taken up by what was passing below, he closed the steel tobacco-box with a loud clear snap, and in the stillness of the night this sounded so clearly that he knew he must be discovered.

To change his position was the work of a few moments, and while he was in the act of moving there was a sharp flash, and the report of a pistol, followed by another and another, the bullets whistling close by him.

“There’s some one up in the rigging,” said Lauré sharply. “It’s that black cook.”

“No,” said another voice, “we fetched him down first off, and he’s been pitched below.”

“Who is it, then?” said Lauré sharply.

“I think Oakum was on deck,” said another voice.

“Here you, Sam Oakum, come down,” said Lauré, in a clear, loud voice. “Come down and you shall not be hurt.”

“That’s nice palaver after sending bullets to fetch a man down,” said Sam to himself, “and after pitching one poor chap to the sharks. I think I’ll stay where I am.”

“Here, two of you to the port, and two to the starboard shrouds. Take your knives with you, and if the scoundrel won’t give in, fetch him down best way you can.”

Sam Oakum drew a long breath as he heard these words, and then, the rigging beginning to quiver, he set his teeth, and began to make cautiously for one of the stays, intending to get to the next mast if he could, and so steal down on deck, where, if he could contrive to reach the poop, he might climb over and join those below through the cabin windows.

It was ticklish work, though, for as he glided and swung from place to place, he could hear by the hard breathing that he was closely pursued. Spider-like, too, the touching of the various ropes by his enemies gave him fair warning that he was in danger, though, unfortunately, his movements were in the same way telegraphed to his enemies.

At last they came so near that his capture seemed certain, or if not capture, he felt sure that a blow from a knife would be his portion. For just as he was going to pass on to the shrouds he had reached, he felt by their vibration that some fresh men were coming up, and seizing a rope he swung himself out clear from the top and hung there, gently swaying about, hearing his pursuers pass close by him, so near that he could have stretched out one hand and touched them.

As far as he could judge, he was now just over the cabin skylight, and his heart bounded, for somewhere about here ought to be the top of the wind-sail hung up in the rigging, so that the great canvas tube might convey the fresh air below to take the place of the hot.

“If I could only reach that,” thought Sam, “I might slip inside, and go down with a run into the cabin.”

He felt about gently for some few moments – not a very easy task, swinging as he was – and then to his great joy he felt his leg come in contact with the rope that suspended the sail, threw his legs round it, and slid down to the top; then, feeling for the opening in the side, he thrust in his leg and held on for a moment while he drew his knife and opened it with his teeth, determined to sell his life dearly if he should be assailed.

It was well he did so, for, directly after squaring his elbows so as to make all the resistance possible to a rapid descent, he let himself glide into the long canvas sack; but, in spite of his efforts, he went down with a rapid run, not as he expected into the cabin, but upon the deck, where he lay struggling for a few moments before he could get his knife to work and rip up a sufficiently-large slit to allow of his rolling out, and then leaped to his feet, ready to meet the first attack that came.

The darkness befriended him, for no one dared fire for fear of hitting a friend, and though the noise of his fall brought his enemies round, it was only to seize one another; and in the midst of the confusion he escaped, and dashed off in a hard race, closely pursued by half-a-dozen scoundrels, whose purpose evidently was to hunt him overboard.

Twice over he ran right into some one’s arms, and once he ran full tilt against an enemy, and sent him rolling over on to the deck. Shouts and oaths rang around him, and over and over again poor Oakum felt that his only chance of escaping from one horrible death was by seeking another.