Dutch the Diver: or, A Man's Mistake

“But no,” he muttered, “I’m not going to be served like that;” and he dodged round mast, galley, and boat, crouching under bulwarks, and escaping over and over again by a miracle as he tried hard to think of some means of baffling his pursuers. The cabin skylight was too strongly covered with wirework, he thought, or he would have tried to leap through; and as to leaping overboard, swimming beneath the cabin window, and calling to those who were prisoners to lower down a rope, that was not to be thought of after the sight he had seen that night in the luminous water.

“I should be torn to pieces,” he muttered. “Take that, you mutinous ruffian,” he added, as he struck out fiercely at one of his enemies, lying down the next moment flat on the deck, so that a pursuer fell over him, and fell with a crash.

Try how he would, the fugitive was beaten; at every turn in the darkness an enemy seemed to spring up in his way, and as he heard the whish of blows directed at him he wondered he had escaped so long.

But a man running for his life is hard to overtake, especially if he have the darkness for his ally: and so it was that at the end of five minutes, during which Sam had been a dozen times within an ace of being taken, he was still at large, standing panting close to the forecastle hatch, while his enemies were creeping cautiously up, ready to make a spring.

“If I’m to be threw overboard,” muttered Sam, “I won’t go alone, anyhow. If the sharks is to be fed, they shall have a double allowance;” and setting his teeth with a vicious grating noise, he prepared for a run aft.

The darkness was now more intense than ever, for a thick mist had come off the land, enshrouding the deck so that Sam could not see the knife he grasped in his hand, but his ears were strained so that he could make out the panting breath of his enemies as they came nearer and nearer, and to his horror he found that they had spread themselves right across the deck; and his imagination suggested that they had joined hands so as to make sure that he did not escape, literally dragging the deck from astern forward, so he knew that they were certain of him this time.

His only chance seemed to be to run out on the bowsprit, and to try to get by one of the stays upon the foremast, but the men were so close that he felt sure they would cut him down before he had gone a yard.

Crouching down, and backing, he was close to the capstan, when his foot came in contact with a fender – one of those heavy pads of cordage and network used to keep ships’ sides from grinding on a stone wharf.

In an instant he had caught it up, and raising it in both hands above his head he waited his time, and then, as the men closed up, he hurled it with all his force against the nearest, catching him full in the chest, and sending him down like a skittle, when, as he uttered a cry, the others believing that the man they sought to capture had sprung upon him, closed in with a shout, and Oakum dashed by them again.

His triumph was but short-lived, for the men were after him directly, chasing him now more savagely than ever. Once or twice his bare feet had slipped on the wet deck, and he had shuddered, believing it to be blood; and forgetting the place, as now, panting and nearly exhausted, he was running on, feeling that the time had come to stand at bay, one of his feet glided over the boards and as he made an effort to save himself by a leap, there was a heavy crash, a fall, and he knew no more.

Story 1-Chapter XXIX.

Awakening

How long Dutch had been asleep he could not tell, but he was dreaming of some fresh trouble. He was diving, and one of the sharks kept striking him blows on the helmet, the noise seeming to reverberate within his brain, when, making an effort, he dragged the helmet off so as to more clearly see his enemy, and strike at it with his knife, when he awoke to hear noises overhead, the beating of feet, and, as he leaped out of his cot, struggling, a horrible cry, and he stood paralysed as the next moment the cabin door was banged to, and sounds came as of ropes being piled upon it.

“In God’s name, what does this mean?” said the doctor, who had leapt out of his berth, and was hastily dressing.

“Heaven only knows,” replied Dutch. “But quick! Miss Studwick! My wife! Get to their cabin door. Indians, perhaps, from the shore – an attack – we must save them.”

“Even at the expense of our lives,” said the doctor in a low voice. “Have you taken my revolver, or my gun?”

“No, no. Mine are gone, too,” exclaimed Dutch. “Never mind, man, we have our hands: quick!”

They rushed out of the cabin, nearly oversetting Mr Parkley and the naturalist; but, paying no heed, Dutch rushed to the little cabin where his wife was clinging to Bessy Studwick, tried the door to find it fastened, and then with one kick sent it off its hinges.

“Hester!” he cried hoarsely, “Hester!”

For answer she sprang to his neck, and clung there with a sigh of relief, —

“This way,” he said, “into the main cabin. Thank heaven, you are safe.”

“And you,” she moaned, as she felt his strong arms round her; and catching one of his hands convulsively she pressed it upon her heart, while her lips sought for his in vain. “Dutch – Dutch – husband – call me wife once more.”

“I’d give my life to do so, Hester,” he whispered passionately, the unknown peril of the night having broken down the icy barrier that had existed for so long.

“Dutch,” she whispered back, “if truth to you deserves the right to be called your wife, you may speak the word.”

“But it is no time to speak now,” he exclaimed. “Some terrible calamity has befallen us.”

“Yes, yes, it was what I feared,” she moaned, clinging more tightly to him.

“You feared,” he said. “But stop! Now in this time of peril, Hester, when in a few moments we may be separated for ever, tell me the truth; you were speaking to some man, and even to-night?”

“Yes, Dutch,” she said.

“It was that mulatto?”

“Mulatto!” she said bitterly. “It was Señor Lauré.”

“Lauré,” he exclaimed. “Yes, I half suspected him, and you knew he was on board and did not warn us,” he added, in a tone of disgust, as he tried to free himself from his wife’s embrace.

“I could only warn you at the peril of your life, Dutch,” she said. “He threatened me.”

They were interrupted by the voice of the captain shouting for the door to be opened.

“Are you there, doctor?” said Dutch.

“Yes,” was the reply.

“And Miss Studwick?”

“I am here,” said Bessy, quietly. “Hester, give me your hand.”

It was pitch dark, and they dared not light a lamp for fear of making marks of themselves for those on deck, especially as, in reply to the captain breaking the cabin skylight, a couple of pistol shots were fired down, fortunately without effect.

Just then Captain Studwick spoke.

“I cannot understand this,” he said. “There must be some treachery somewhere, or we have been boarded in the night. It cannot be an Indian attack. Dutch Pugh, can Lauré have overtaken us?”

“Overtaken us! Poor children that we were to try to fight him with brains,” said Dutch bitterly; “he has never let us out of his sight.”

“What!” cried Mr Parkley.

“He has been on board from the first with half-a-dozen picked men.”

“And he was the mulatto?” cried Captain Studwick. “Curse the fellow! Then we are indeed undone.”

There was a few moments’ silence, and then Captain Studwick spoke again.

“I always felt that there was something wrong – always. Bear me witness that I did, Pugh, and yet I could not tell what it was.”

“You did,” said Dutch, who was listening intently.

“But this is no time for talking,” cried Mr Parkley excitedly. “The scoundrel! the villain! to outdo us like this; and at such a time, when we have just succeeded in getting the treasure. Only to think of it, we have been working like this for him.”

“It has not come to that yet,” said Dutch, quietly, and his voice sounded strangely in the dark. “We are fastened down here, of course, Studwick?”

“Yes, I have tried hard, but they have secured us,” said the captain.