Commodore Junk Part 73

If the men were carousing the watch kept would be less strict, and there might be some chance of obtaining a boat.

"To start alone on a cruise," he said, half aloud. "What madness!"

Then pa.s.sionately: "It all seems madness, and I can do nothing but drift with fate."

Fighting down the strange hesitancy which kept a.s.sailing in various forms, especially now in that of conjuring up difficulties in the way of escape, he plunged st.u.r.dily into the forest path, and, as fast as the darkness allowed, went on straight for the old temple, a grim place of refuge, with its ghastly relics; of Abel Dell lying, as it were, in state; and the horrible, haunting recollections of the huge cavernous cenote where the would-be a.s.sa.s.sin had met his fate, and the other had been consigned as to his tomb.

It was painful work. Every now and then some th.o.r.n.y creeper of rapid growth hung across and tore his skin; at some sudden turn he came in contact with tree-trunk or mouldering stone; but the greater the difficulties in the darkness, the greater the rest seemed to Humphrey Armstrong's brain, and he kept on till a sudden turn brought him close to the fork, where one path went winding to the left toward the men's and the captain's quarters, the other to the temple.

As he approached he became conscious of a rustling sound, as of a wild creature pa.s.sing through the forest, and he s.n.a.t.c.hed his knife from his waist, ready to strike for life if attacked; but, firmly convinced that there were no denizens of the wild there but such as were more likely to avoid him, he kept on again, to reach the dividing path just as he became aware that it was no creature pa.s.sing through the wilderness of trees, but someone, like himself, hurrying along the track from the men's quarters so rapidly, that they came in contact, and a hand seized him by the throat, and the point of some weapon seemed to be pressed against his breast, as a voice exclaimed in a hoa.r.s.e whisper--

"Make the slightest sound and it is your last."

And as these words seemed to be hissed into his face, a shout arose from some distance along the path, and the tramping of feet and rustling of branches intimated that people were rapidly coming in pursuit.

"You!" exclaimed Humphrey, hoa.r.s.ely, as he stood with hand uplifted to strike, but suspended in the act as if every muscle had suddenly become stone.

"Humphrey Armstrong!"

The hand that had grasped his throat dropped nerveless, and the weapon fell from his breast as the shouting of men increased.

"Well," said Humphrey, bitterly, as if he were forcing himself to say words that he did not mean, "why do you not strike? I was escaping.

Call up your gang of cut-throats and end it all."

"Hush! For Heaven's sake, hush! You will be heard."

"Well," said Humphrey, aloud, and as if in defiance; but a warm soft hand was placed over his lips, and its owner whispered--

"You were trying to escape, or did you know?"

"Know!" said Humphrey, involuntarily speaking lower. "Know what? I was escaping."

"To the old temple! No, no, they are going there."

"Your hounds!"

"Silence, man, for your life!" was whispered close to his ear, and the hand once more sought his lips.

"Come on, my lads!" came out of the darkness ahead. "I know where to find him, snivelling yonder among the old images. Come on!"

There was a shout, and it seemed as if the leader of a body of men, beneath whose feet the rotten branches that bestrewed the path crackled, had suddenly halted for his companions to close up before saying a few final words of encouragement.

"Now then," the voice said in thick, husky tones, "stand by me, my lads.

He's gone on there, and there's no getting back. One good, bold blow and we'll scotch him like a snake. Then fair share and share alike of all there is hidden away, and start straight. He's no good now, and the others'll join in when he's gone. Ready?"

"Ay, ay!" came in hoa.r.s.e, drunken tones; and as Humphrey felt himself pressed back into the pathway by which he had come, there was a staggering of feet, and a dull trampling, as about a dozen men pa.s.sed on, leaving behind them the thick reek of hot, spirit-laden breath.

"Now!" as the steps pa.s.sed on. "Now," was whispered in Humphrey's ear; "this way."

"Ah!" arose in a fierce growl, as some one of the party who had not gone on with the rest made a dash at and seized the buccaneer captain.

"Prisoner! Who is it? Here, hi mates, I've--"

He said no more. Without pause or thought why he did this--why he sought to save his companion--Humphrey Armstrong made a spring in the direction of the voice, his hands came in contact with a coa.r.s.e bull throat, and its owner was driven backwards, to fall with his head striking a projecting piece of stone, dragging the buccaneer in the fall.

The man was stunned, and lay perfectly inert as Humphrey and his companion struggled to their feet, panting with exertion, and listening for the return of the party who had gone on.

But they had not heard the noise of the struggle, the maze-like turnings of the path had shut it out, and their voices came now m.u.f.fled and soft, as if from a distance.

Then Humphrey felt his hand gripped firmly.

"This way."

"What! Are you going to take me back to prison?" said Humphrey mockingly.

"Do you wish to go straight to death?"

"I am going straight to liberty!" cried Humphrey.

"This way, then," whispered his companion; and without a word Humphrey allowed himself to be led back along the dark arcade, listening to the heavy panting of his guide, who seemed to be breathing heavily, and as if in pain.

For some time no word was spoken. Then, as he became aware of his companion's purpose, Humphrey stopped short.

"You are leading me back to that cursed prison," he said fiercely.

"Loose my hand."

"I am leading you to the only place where you will be safe," was whispered back. "Have I not suffered enough, man? Do you think I wish to die with the knowledge that, these dogs will seize and rend you in their drunken frenzy?"

"Rend me!"

"Yes. They have risen. That wretch, whom I have spared so long in my weak folly, is at their head. Humphrey Armstrong, believe me, I am trying to save your life!"

"Then why not make for the sh.o.r.e? A boat! Give me a boat and let me go!"

"Half the men who were faithful to me are dead, treacherously burned to death in their quarters. I cannot explain; but the doorway was blocked by those fiends. The landing-place is guarded by a portion of his bloodthirsty gang. To go to the sh.o.r.e is to seek your death. Will you not trust me now?"

"It is to keep me here!" he cried fiercely.

"To keep you here when I would gladly say go! Trust me. Give me time to think. I was coming to save you when we met. Will you not believe?"

"Yes!" cried Humphrey, hoa.r.s.ely. "I will trust you!"

"Hah!"

That was all. His hand was gripped more tightly; and, as he yielded it to his companion, he felt himself led with unerring decision in and out among the mouldering ruins of the edge of the clearing to the side of the old amphitheatre, a faint metallic clink from time to time indicating that a sword was being struck upon the stones to make sure of the way.

"You are going back there?" said Humphrey.

"Yes," came back hoa.r.s.ely. "Do not speak. We may be heard."

Humphrey was conscious that his guide had led him to the old altar and sunk upon it with a moan; but she still tightly clung to his hand.