Black Bartlemy's Treasure Part 30

"It was."

"How came it stained with blood?" For answer I shrugged my shoulders and turned away. "Have you nothing to say?"

"Nothing, madam."

"You would have me think you this murderer?"

"I would have you think of me none at all," I answered, and smiled to see how I had stirred her anger at last.

"Nay," sighs she, "needs must I think of you as the poor, mean thing you are and pity you accordingly!"

"Howbeit," says I, scowling blacker than ever, "I will get me out of your sight--"

"Aye, but the ladder is gone!"

"No matter," says I, "better a broken neck to-night than a noose to-morrow. To-morrow, aye, the dawn is like to see an end of the feud and the Conisbys both together--"

"And so shameful an end!" says she. At this, I turned my back on her, for anger was very strong in me. So, nothing speaking, I got to my knees that I might come at the trap beneath her berth; but next moment I was on my feet glaring round for some weapon to my defence, for on the air was sudden wild tumult and hubbub, a running of feet and confused shouting that waxed ever louder. Then, as I listened, I knew it was not me they hunted, for now was the shrill braying of a trumpet and the loud throbbing of a drum:

"Martin--O Martin Conisby!" She stood with hands clasped and eyes wide in a dreadful expectancy, "What is it?" she panted, "O what is it?

Hark--what do they cry!"

Rigid and motionless we stood to listen; then every other emotion was 'whelmed and lost in sudden, paralysing fear as, above the trampling rush of feet, above the shrill blast of tucket and rolling of drum we caught the awful word "Fire!"

"Now G.o.d help us all!" cries she, wringing her hands; then sinking to her knees, she leaned, half-swooning, against the door, yet I saw her pallid lips moving in pa.s.sionate supplication.

As for me (my first panic over) I sat me on her bed revolving how I might turn the general confusion to the preservation of my life. In this I was suddenly aroused by my lady's hand on my bowed shoulder.

"Hark!" cries she, "Hark where they cry for aid!"

"Why so they do," says I. "And so they may!"

"Then come, let us out. You are a strong man, you will help to save the ship."

"And hang thereafter? Not I, madam!"

"Will you do nothing?" cried she, clenching her hands.

"Verily, madam. I shall do my earnest endeavour to preserve this poor rogue's body o' mine from noose and flame. But as for the ship--let it burn, say I."

"Spoke like a very coward!" says she in bitter scorn. "And a coward is selfish always." So saying she crossed to the door and reached her hand to the bolt; but in a leap I was beside her and caught this hand, 'prisoning it there:

"Hark'ee, madam!" quoth I, "You tell me that to hang is a shameful death, and the noose as good as round my neck. But, before G.o.d, madam, I'll see this ship go up in flame and perish with it ere that noose shall strangle the life out of me and my wrongs unavenged. So the ship may burn an it will. Meantime do you seek your salvation and leave me to seek mine!" Then opening the door I stood aside to give her way; instead she stood a moment looking on me great-eyed:

"O blind!" says she at last, "To treasure life for your wicked vengeance! O blind, blind!" Then, and very suddenly she sped out and away.

Left alone I stood hearkening to the distant uproar and casting about in my mind how best I might contrive my preservation. And now in my desperate need it seemed there was but one hope for me and this but slender, viz., to steal myself up to Adam's lodgment under the p.o.o.p and that as soon as might be. To this end I stepped forth of the cabin and so into a narrow pa.s.sage-way with divers doors to right and left that opened upon other cabins, in one of which I espied a cloak and feathered hat lying where their owner had dropped them; whipping the cloak about me I clapped on the hat and, staying for no more, hasted on breathing an air acrid with drifting smoke. Reaching a broad stairway I climbed at speed and found myself out upon the lofty p.o.o.p, whence I might look down on the decks through a haze of smoke that poured up through the after hatchway, mounting in billowy wreaths against the splendour of the moon. Here it seemed was gathered the whole ship's company with mighty stir and to-do, and none with eyes to spare for me.

Howbeit, I stayed for no second glance, but running to Adam's cabin, found the door unlocked, the which I closed and bolted after me, in the doing of which I noticed (to my comfort) that this door was mighty thick and strong and in it moreover a loophole newly cut, with others in the bulkheads to right and left and all very neatly plugged from within; and what with this and the musquetoons that stood in racks very orderly, the place, small though it was, had all the virtues of a fort or citadel. Here then, so far as might be, I was safe whatever chanced, since I had but to lift the trap in the floor and descend into the roundhouse below, whence I might gain the stern-gallery and so the sea itself. And now, laying by the hat and cloak I cast myself on Adam's bed and there outstretched in great content, hearkened to the distant voices and tramp of feet where they laboured to put out the fire.

Little by little these sounds became merged with the droning of the wind and the never-ceasing surge and hiss of the seas; lulled by this and the sense of my comparative safety, I presently fell a-slumbering.

And sleeping thus, dreamed myself young again and playing with the child Damaris, thrilling to the clasp of her little, childish hands, joying in the tones of her clear, sweet child voice--she that grown up I knew for none other than Joan Brandon.

CHAPTER XXI

TELLETH HOW THE SAID FIRE CAME ABOUT

"Lord love me, shipmate, here's you to hang at peep o' day and a-smiling in your dreams!"

"What--Adam!" says I, sitting up.

"In few short hours, Martin, here will be ninety odd souls earnestly seeking to swing you up to the main-yard and you a-slumbering sweet as any innocent babe, and burn me, shipmate, I love you the better for't!"

"What of the fire, Adam?"

"Why, 'twas an excellent fire, Martin, and smoked bravely! What's more it served its divers purposes whiles it lasted."

"Is it out then, Adam?"

"This two hours."

"And what might you mean by its purposes?"

"Well, mayhap you were one o' them, Martin. Here's the second time fire hath served ye well, you'll mind."

"How!" I cried, starting to my feet, "Will you be telling me 'twas you set this fire going?"

"As to the other purpose, shipmate, 'tis yonder--hark to it!" And smiling grimly, Adam held up a sinewy finger, as, from somewhere forward, rose a confused and dismal wailing.

"In heaven's name what's toward now, Adam?"

"The crew are singing, Martin, likewise they dance, presently they shall fall a-quarrelling, then grow pot-valiant, all in regular and accepted order. Already one poor rogue hath been aft to demand the women of us d'ye see, and--"

"To demand the women!" says I in gasping astonishment.

"Aye, the women, Martin--my Lady Joan and her maid, d'ye see."

"G.o.d's love, Adam!" I cried, gripping his arm, "And you--what said you to the vile dog?"

"Nought! I shot him!"

"Is the mutiny broke out then?"

"Not yet, shipmate, but 'tis coming, aye 'tis coming, which is very well--"

"And what hath brought things to this pa.s.s?"

"Rum, Martin! The fire was in the store-room where there is rum a-plenty, d'ye see, and what was to prevent the rogues making off with a keg or so that chanced to lie handy--not I, shipmate, not I!"