The Island Treasure Part 22

"Seems like," said he; and then, plucking up his courage, he started once more for the mouth of the cave, I following close, like his shadow, afraid to leave him now, because then I would be there by myself.

"Durned, though, if Sam's ghostess or any other cuss 'll kep me back now. Come on, Cholly!"

But, when we got up to the entrance, we saw a sight that stopped us at once, Hiram dropping to the ground as if he had been shot.

There, sitting on the very rock at the back which Tom Bullover had joked about on the previous day as being the 'ghost's pulpit' was the dim apparition of a man, the very image of our whilom negro cook, leaning back and playing the banjo, just as Sam used to do on board the _Denver City_.

But, stranger still, even as I looked, a queer supernatural sort of light suddenly illumined the interior of the cavern, and I saw another apparition rise, as it were, out of the darkness, immediately behind the one on the rock, the last spectral form raising its hand threateningly.

I stood there at the mouth of the cave, almost paralysed with terror, watching the weird scene that was being enacted within, the wonderful electrical glare making every detail come out in strong relief and lighting up the whole place, so that it was as bright as day.

Not the slightest incident escaped my notice.

As the second apparition rose from behind the rock at the back of the cavern, the first figure, which I had believed up to now really to be the negro cook's ghost or spirit, permitted for some occult purpose or other to revisit the earth, also jumped up out of the corner, dropping the banjo incontinently.

Not only this, the original ghost, spirit, or what you will, displayed an abject fright that was too real for any inhabitant of the other world to a.s.sume; for the face of the ghost in an instant grew as long as my arm, while its woolly hair crinkled up on top of its head until it became erect and stiff as a wire brush.

At the same time, the eyes of this first 'ghost,' distended with fear, rolled round and round, the white eyeb.a.l.l.s contrasting with the darker skin of the face, which, however, appeared to have become of an ashy grey colour, instead of black--though whether this was from the effects of fear or owing to the peculiar light that shone full upon it I could not tell, nor, indeed, puzzled my mind at the time to inquire.

The two figures thus confronted each other for about the s.p.a.ce of a second, the headless apparition rising and rising till it seemed to touch the roof of the cave, when it extended its wide arms and made a clutch at the other, and now trembling, figure in front.

This was too much for the banjo-playing spectre.

Uttering a wild yell that only a human throat could have emitted, and with his mouth open as wide as the mouth of the cave towards which he rushed, Sam Jedfoot--for it was his own substantial self, I saw, and no ghost at all, as I was now convinced--cleared in two bounds the intervening s.p.a.ce that lay between him and the entrance to the cavern, seeking to get away as far as possible from his terrible visitant.

Apparently, he must have thought the other to be the 'genuine Simon Pure,' come to punish him for his false pretences in making believe to be a denizen of the spirit world whilst he was yet in the flesh, and so poaching unlawfully on what was by right and t.i.tle the proper domain of the ghostal tribe!

In his hurry and haste, however, to avoid this avenging spectre, poor Sam, naturally, did not see me standing in front of the cave blocking the entrance, nor had I time to get out of his way, so as to avoid the impetuous rush he made for the opening.

The consequences may be readily surmised.

He came against me full b.u.t.t, and we both tumbled to the ground headlong together all of a heap.

Sam thereupon imagined the terrible apparition to be clutching him, and that his last hour had come.

"Oh, golly! De debbel's got me, de debbel's got me fo' suah!" he roared out in an agony of terror, clawing at my clothes and nearly tearing the shirt off my back in his attempts to regain his feet, as we rolled over and over together down the decline towards the sh.o.r.e. "Lor', a mussy!

Do forgib me dis time, Ma.s.sa Duppy, fo' play-actin' at ghostesses, an' I promises nebber do so no moah! O Lor'! O Lor'! I'se a gone n.i.g.g.ah!

Bress de Lor', fo' ebbah an' ebbah! Amen!"

CHAPTER SIXTEEN.

SAM JEDFOOT'S YARN.

"Ho-ho-ho! I shall die a-laughing!" exclaimed another voice at this juncture, interrupting Sam's terrified appeal to the spiritual powers.

"Ho-ho-ho! I shall die a-laughing!"

The voice sounded like that of Tom Bullover; but, before I could look up to see if it were really he, Sam and I, the negro cook still clutching me tightly in his frantic grasp as we rolled down the little declivity on to the beach below the entrance to the cave, fetched up against Hiram; who, only just recovering from the shock he had received, was then in the act of rising from the ground, where he had dropped at the sight of Sam and his banjo--still dazed with the fright, and hardly yet knowing where he was or what had happened.

"My golly!" cried Sam, thinking him another ghost. "Lor' sakes! Ma.s.sa Duppy, do forgib me! I'll nebbah do so moah, I'se swarr I'll nebbah do so no moah!"

"Wa-all, I'm jiggered!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Hiram, on the two of us coming against him with a thump, nearly knocking him again off his legs, as we scrambled to ours. "What in thunder dew this air muss mean?

Jee-rusalem--it beats creation, it dew!"

Neither Sam nor I could get out a word; but, while we all stared, out of breath and speechless with astonishment, at each other, another wild shout of laughter came right over our heads from within the cave above, and I heard Tom's voice exclaiming, as before--

"Ho-ho-ho! you'll be the death o' me sure, sonnies! I never seed sich a go in my life! Hang it all--Charley and Hiram, and you, Sambo--why, it's only me! Ho-ho-ho! I shall bust meself, if you go staring round and wool-gathering like that any longer! Ho-ho-ho! this is a game, and no mistake!"

With that, the three of us looked up, and now saw Tom Bullover standing on top of the plateau in front of the cave, with a sort of long white sheet like a piece of sailcloth round him, and Sam's banjo in one hand.

Then, the real facts of the case flashed on my mind in a moment, and I could not help joining in the carpenter's hearty merriment at the way in which he had humbugged us all.

"Oh, Tom!" I cried; "so it was you, after all?"

"Yes; ho-ho! Charley; yes, my lad. Ho-ho-ho!"

"Guess I don't see nuthin' to sn.i.g.g.e.r over!" growled Hiram, shamefaced at being so readily imposed on; but he was too good a sailor to mind a joke against himself, and the comicality of the situation striking him, too, like me, he was soon laughing as loudly as Tom and I.

Sam only needed this further secession likewise to set him off, his negro nature possessing the hysterical features of his race, and going readily from one extreme to the other.

A second before he had been paralysed with fright; now he was as instantly convulsed with glee.

"My gosh!" he yelled, showing his ivories as his whole face expanded into one big guffaw that utterly eclipsed all our attempts at merriment.

"Hoo-hoo, yah-yah! Dat am prime, Cholly--black ghost fo' whitey!

Hoo-hoo, yah-yah! I'se die a-laffin', like Tom! Black ghost fo'

whitey!--Hoo-hoo, yah-yah, hoo-hoo! Golly! Dat am prime, fo' suah!"

Sam's negro abandon and queer gestures, as he danced about and doubled himself up in his wild convulsions of mirth, were absolutely irresistible; and so we all roared in concert, like a party of lunatics, laughing until the tears actually ran down our cheeks.

"An' how did yer fix the hull thing so smartly?" inquired the American, presently when he was able to speak. "Ye took me in finely, I guess; ye did thet so!"

"Lor', old ship! that were easy enough, when you comes to think of it."

"But, how?" persisted Hiram, as Tom broke off his explanation to indulge in another laugh. "Hyar's Sam, what was ded, alive agen an' kickin', ez my shins ken tell, I reckon! How about his hauntin' the shep, an' all thet?"

"Yes, Tom," I put in here; "how was it that he wasn't killed?"

"Oh, Sam 'll explain all about his bizness," replied Tom, laughing again, the ridiculous nature of the whole thing appealing strongly to his risible faculties. "I've got enough to do to tell you about my own ghost--the sperrit, that is, of the black man that our second-mate spun that yarn about yesterday arternoon!"

"A-ah!" drawled out Hiram; "I begins to smell a rat, I dew."

"But, suah dat 'perrit wasn't reel, hey, Ma.s.s' Tom?" interposed Sam, his eyeb.a.l.l.s starting again out of his head, as he recollected all the mysterious occurrences in the cave. "Dat 'perrit wasn't reel, hey?

I'se take um fo' duppy, suah?"

"No, ye durned fule!" exclaimed Hiram, quite indignantly; "don't ye know thet?"

"Some people weren't so wise just now," said Tom Bullover dryly; "eh, Hiram?"

"Nary mind 'bout thet," growled the American, giving Tom a dig in the ribs playfully. "Heave ahead with yer yarn, or we'll never git in the slack of it 'fore nightfall!"