Roger Trewinion Part 29

"I'll engage you," he said, giving me back my certificate.

I looked at it afterwards and found the reason of my ready acceptance.

Luke Miller had proved a friend indeed, and had spoken very highly of me.

In a few days we set sail, during which time I remained on board. I had no desire to see London; I wished to be away on the broad, deep sea.

I found that we were bound for a long voyage, and that the captain had got together a very motley crew. This did not trouble me; in fact, I was glad on both scores. The journey would take me away--I cared not where, the savagery of the crew accorded with my own wild feelings.

They were a poor, degraded set, weak physically, and with the stamp of villainy upon them. Their conversation was degrading, their every thought was steeped with filth. I soon made myself a sort of unofficial captain among them, and by a strong will held them in subjection.

I dropped my pen at the last word, for I found myself beginning to describe in detail my seafaring experience, and I must not do that. It is not necessary, nor will it be interesting. One or two prominent facts I shall relate, the rest must be imagined.

I sailed with this captain and this crew nearly twelve months, then I left them, and for the next seven years I went from ship to ship and from crew to crew.

I need not have done so, but I determined not to set my foot on English ground. I wished to keep away from every a.s.sociation and thought of my past life. There is not much that I need describe. I had the usual experience of seafaring men. I experienced cold, hunger, and storm; but was indifferent to them. I do not think I had any interest in life. Often death stared me in the face, and I did not flinch. I should not have minded had the hand of death struck me down. Indeed, if I ever wished for anything it was that I should die, and still I remained strong, and hearty, and well.

But my love for Ruth died not, my hatred for Wilfred was as strong as it was when I had seen him with Ruth on the great headland watching the ship in which I sailed. Every fact of my early life, and of my relations with Ruth, was as real and vivid as when I had lived at home.

The eight years I had been away had destroyed neither my memory, nor my feelings.

It was a wild life I lived. I had no friends, no ties, nothing, in fact, to refine or purify. The hatred in my heart kept me from being loved by my a.s.sociates, and nothing kept me from sinking to the lowest depths of degradation but my love for Ruth. Often, when I was on the point of yielding to the low and the depraved, my love for her saved me. That was a pure force in my life, and it was my salvation.

Often did I think of the old home life. Often did I imagine what my mother and the rest would be doing. Sometimes I asked myself if ever they thought of me, or if they had any idea as to what had become of me. I tried to comfort myself by believing that they thought about me, or that they mourned me as dead. Then I hoped that they wished me alive and waited for my home-coming; but that hope was speedily dispelled by the remembrance of my last interview with Ruth and my mother.

Strange to say, I never once longed to return home; never once desired that my feet should stand on the spongy turf on the great headland; never wanted to speak to any one of the family. I felt that I was a banished man, homeless and friendless.

It may be that some will say the "Trewinion's curse" is merely an idle tale. I know not; this I know: that ever since I realised my hatred for Wilfred, on the morning of my departure, I lived a new life, a life that was all dark. The skies were black, the earth was black, and, worst of all, my heart was black. Never since then had I known real joy or gladness. A terrible despair gnawed at my heart, and this I carried everywhere. I had thought that by going away from the scenes of my childhood I should escape my sorrow. I was foolish to think so.

I discovered that sorrow comes not so much from the outward; it comes from the heart, from the man himself. Wherever I went I could not shake off the shadow of self, and thus I was never free from sorrow and pain.

At the end of eight years there was a change in my life. I was now more than thirty. My softer feelings, all but one, had gone. I was as hard and callous as the cliffs which surround the Cornish coast. At this time we were sailing the Indian seas, and our vessel was laden with a valuable cargo. The men were lazily standing around on the deck, while the captain stood with his gla.s.s to his eye eagerly scanning a distant object.

We took no notice for a while, then it was whispered along the deck that the captain had seen a curious, suspicious-looking craft that was evidently bearing down upon us. This whisper was soon confirmed by the fact that our vessel's course was altered, and every st.i.tch of canvas that she could carry was hoisted. In spite of this, however, we saw that the other boat was gaining rapidly upon us, and must in a very few hours overtake us.

I saw that a great fear had seized the crew, for there was but little doubt that our pursuer was a pirate. For myself I did not care. I was indifferent to life, and it mattered not what became of me. It was, however, in my nature to fight for the side on which I found myself, so like the rest I prepared for the struggle. When the two vessels were near each other our pursuer hoisted a black flag, then we were sure of what would follow.

Never was a crew braver than ours; every man fought for dear life, but we were no match for the a.s.sailants. They were double our number and armed to the teeth. At length we were overpowered and bound. The vessel was no longer in our possession, and the company to which she belonged would have to suffer a great loss. It was not that of which we were thinking, however. Every man was in terrible dread as to what his own future would be.

The captain of the pirate ship was one of the most striking men I ever saw. He was, perhaps, forty years of age, and was of Spanish extraction. His eyes and hair were as black as the raven's wing, and his skin was of a dark, olive colour. His crew were likewise Spaniards, plainly outlaws of the worst character. But I noticed that they all loved and obeyed their chief. I did not wonder at their obeying him, his personality was so strong, but I did wonder at their loving him. He seemed stern, harsh, and violent.

After we had all been bound, I saw the captain of the pirate ship consulting with his men; evidently they were deciding what to do with us, and there seemed some difference of opinion. Presently the captain inspected us one by one. We were by no means as fine a crew as our conquerors, not simply in numbers, but in kind. We were made up of different nationalities, and I was the only Englishman among the whole number. There were Greeks, Arabs, Turks, and one or two Austrians among us. The captain and the mates were all Greeks, and the ship belonged to a Greek company. Most of the men were small in bone, and while strong and wiry, were by no means striking in appearance.

After he had looked at us some time, there was another consultation, and at length they decided what to do, and we saw that preparations were being made. Eagerly I scanned the sea, but not a sail was in sight, no help was near, and careless as I had been about danger my heart felt heavy.

With blanched faces our men saw a plank which reached a few yards into the sea, placed on the vessel's deck, and with beating hearts we saw the officers of our ship bound.

I will not try and describe the scene. Hard and rough as I was, it was terrible to see men killed in cold blood. In vain the captain pleaded that he had a wife and little ones. No mercy was shown, and, although we dreaded the sight, our eyes were drawn, as if by a magnet, to see the men who had commanded us walking to their death. Even now their awful shrieks as they fell into the sea ring in my ears. And we were all bound, unable to help them, and waiting for a similar doom.

Then we saw what caused us common sailors hope. A good-sized boat was lowered, and provisions were placed in it; and one by one, the men were told to board it, This they gladly did, until I was left alone. I was preparing to follow, when the captain came up to me. He took a long look at me and then spoke to his men. I had picked up enough of Spanish during the years I had been away to understand an ordinary conversation, so I followed every word he said. His opinion was that I should make a splendid addition to their crew, and that it was a pity I should be lost to them.

"Your name?" he said to me abruptly.

"Richard Tretheway!"

"Ah, you are English?"

"Yes."

"How long since you were there?"

"Eight years."

"Why have you kept away from your home so long?"

"For private reasons."

"Ah!" he said eagerly, and he looked at me keenly. "One of us, eh?

Stand up, Richard Tretheway."

I stood up. Tall as he was, I was taller, and broader too, for that part. The Trewinions have ever been a race of giants.

"What do you wish us to do with you?" he said at length.

"I'm not anxious."

"Then you don't mind walking the plank?"

"It won't matter much. I must die some time, and I've not much to live for."

The captain's eyes sparkled.

"What do you think of us?" he said at length.

I looked at our crew, who were evidently to be sent away to die. I thought of our officers who had only a few minutes before been condemned to death, and I said savagely:

"I think you are bloodthirsty villains--demons out of h.e.l.l."

He laughed a mirthless, cruel laugh, while the crew demanded my death.

"What would you do if you had us in your power?"

"Hang you."

"Why?"

"To rid the earth of such a crew."

"Let him walk the plank," cried the men.

But the captain was more forbearing.