A Volunteer with Pike Part 52

This time when they dragged me out and down to the foul prison black-hole they had no need of a gag. After that one wild protest, I fell dumb. I had seen two floggings of twenty strokes of the cat since coming aboard. With the words of my sentence the memory had come back to me, and with the memory of those shameful floggings had returned the remembrance of all my life aboard the _Belligerent_.

When, an hour or so after my sentence, Dr. Cuthbert came to condole with me, I recognized him and his kindness, but sat in sullen misery when he sought to question me. The trial was over--sentence imposed. Why should I accept the sympathy of these brutes?

He may have divined my frame of mind, for presently he fell to deploring the rigors of the times, brought about by the boundless ambition of Bonaparte. England, he argued, alone interposed by means of her navy a barrier against the world-wide domination of the Corsican adventurer.

That navy was the hope of the world. Yet, thanks to the French privateers and Bonaparte's strength upon the Continent, Britain had lost much of her commerce to the United States, to whose ships the British seamen were constantly deserting to escape the harsh yet necessary discipline of the Royal Navy. What, then, if occasionally a native American was impressed? The struggle between Britain and the Corsican was a struggle of life and death. Britain must man her ships, or submit to destruction, and with Britain crushed, what nation or alliance of nations could hope to withstand the infernal genius of Bonaparte?

I waited for a pause, and inquired in a casual tone as to the welfare of the Spanish lady rescued from the sinking ship. He started up, retreated a pace or two, with his eyes fixed upon me, and then hurried off, tapping his head significantly. I bowed my head with a sigh of relief.

The temptation had been taken from me. My weakness should not have another opportunity to betray me. My lady should not know of my shame.

CHAPTER x.x.xV

UNDER THE LASH

In the early morning they led me out beside the foremast. There were present the petty officer told off to wield the cat-o'-nine-tails, an officer to tally the strokes, Dr. Cuthbert, and my guard. This was at the first. Before the punishment had begun, half a hundred of the crew had a.s.sembled to witness it, drawn I suppose by varying motives of curiosity, pity, or craving for the exhibition of brutality.

My guard was about to strip off my shirt, when Dr. Cuthbert interposed.

"One moment." They stepped back, and he addressed me: "Dr. Robinson, I have never known a man possessed of a finer physique than yours. On the other hand, none can say beforetime what any man can endure unless he has been tested. You may succ.u.mb to this punishment."

I looked at him a long moment, and for my lady's sake, found power to beg a favor of this most insistently kind enemy.

"Dr. Cuthbert," I replied, "may I ask you to remove the rosary from about my neck?" He did so. "Sir, I now request you to guard my treasure.

If I survive this shame, restore it to me. If I succ.u.mb, I trust you as a gentleman and a brother physician to give the cross into the hands of Senorita Alisanda Vallois, with the simple statement that I died in your care."

"Senorita Vallois?--You know her?" he exclaimed.

"Yes; but in G.o.d's name, doctor, do not tell her of my shame!"

"Dr. Cuthbert!" interposed the officer in charge.

The doctor stepped away, and my guard and executioner seized me fast.

With the deftness of sailors, they removed my handcuffs, stripped me to the waist, and triced me up by the wrists to the foremast.

"Ready!" called the officer. "One!"

Down came the lash upon my bare back. But the sting of its thongs was as nothing to the sting of shame which pierced my heart. Death would have been far less bitter than this disgrace!

The count went on. Stroke after stroke slashed across my back and shoulders as heavily as my imbruted executioner could strike. Soon the blood began to ooze, then trickle, then stream down. By the fiftieth stroke I should judge that my back was a ma.s.s of raw flesh. Yet the count continued, the strokes fell without ceasing, mercilessly.

Coming as I did from a people bred to endure the utmost torture of the Indian savage, I found no difficulty in restraining any outcry under this equally fiendish torture of so-called Christians. But as the little surgeon had said, no man can foresee the limits of endurance. At the seventy-third stroke I swooned. They did not cut me down, but let me hang by the wrists, and drenched me with buckets of sea-water, until I revived.

I gasped, stiffened, and writhed in the h.e.l.l of agony which beset me with returning consciousness.

"Seventy-four!" called the officer.

The lash descended, all the more forcefully for the rest enjoyed by the wielder.

"Seventy-five!--seventy-six!--seventy-seven!" went on the merciless tally.

I gritted my teeth, and vowed to endure and live, that I might overturn heaven and earth to accomplish the shame and destruction of Britain. My glaring eyes looked out past the mast upon the sailors before me with such murderous rage that one by one they edged back and around beyond reach of my vision.

The count had now pa.s.sed the eighties--it was at ninety. Only ten more strokes! But despite my rage, a deathly sickness was fast creeping upon me. I could no longer hold up my head. Try as I might, it sank lower and lower, until my chin was upon my quivering breast.

"Ninety-five!" The words came faint, from an immeasurable distance. I was again about to swoon.

Suddenly I heard a cry of anguish such as I trust never to hear again.

It was the voice of my lady! I looked up. She was darting toward me, her beautiful hair flying wildly in the breeze, the rosary in her outstretched hand.

"Ninety-six!" Again the lash fell.

"Ninety-seven!" But now she was beside me--she had flung herself between me and the descending lash. I heard the sailors cry out. The executioner whisked his lash aside by so narrow a margin that the tip of one of the thongs left a crimson weal across her white forehead.

"G.o.d!" cried the officer. There was a moment's breathless pause. Then he called harshly, "Mademoiselle, stand aside. There are yet three strokes."

"Strike if you dare!" she cried. "I am here to defend him! Strike me!"

"Mademoiselle, I would not force you away. But if I send for Captain Powers--"

"Send!" she cried. "_Poder de Dios!_ This gentleman is my betrothed husband!"

There was a gleam above my head, and the blade of a little dagger slashed through the lashings which bound my wrists to the mast. I attempted to turn, but tottered, and my knees bent and doubled beneath me. I should have fallen headlong had she not eased me to the deck with her arm across my naked, sweaty, blood-streaked breast.

She knelt beside me, and drew my head against her knee. Then all again became black.

CHAPTER x.x.xVI

ACROSS THE GULF

This time, lacking the flood of sea-water, my swoon lasted much longer.

I recovered to find myself in the great cabin, lying upon a luxurious berth, close to a stern window. Already my back had been covered with a soothing, cooling balm and wrapped about with bandages. I sought to turn upon my side, that I might look around. At once gentle hands lent their aid to my support.

"He revives!" exclaimed my lady.

"'T was best to dress the wound before applying restoratives," chirruped Dr. Cuthbert.

But now I was fairly on my side, and could see the dear form of my lady.

"Alisanda!" I murmured.

"Juan!" she responded, kneeling and pressing her lips to mine regardless of the doctor's presence. "My Juan! I am here, my beloved. I am with you!"