The Madman and the Pirate Part 15

But these precautions were unnecessary, for when the swimmers landed and walked up the beach they were seen by the man-of-war's-men to shake hands with the chief of the savages, and, after what appeared to be a brief palaver, to rub noses with him. Then the entire host turned and led the visitors towards the village.

With a heart almost bursting from the combined effects of disappointment, humiliation, and grief, poor Ebony stood at the stern of the man-of-war, his arms crossed upon his brawny chest, and his great eyes swimming in irrepressible tears, a monstrous bead of which would every now and then overflow its banks and roll down his sable cheek.

Suddenly the heart-stricken negro clasped his hands together, bowed his head, and dropped into the sea!

The captain, who had seen him take the plunge, leaped to the stern, and saw him rise from the water, blow like a grampus, and strike out for land with the steady vigour of a gigantic frog.

"Pick him up!" shouted the captain to the boat, which was by that time returning to the ship.

"Ay, ay, sir," was the prompt reply.

The boat was making straight for the negro and he for it. Neither diverged from the straight course.

"Two of you in the bow, there, get ready to haul him in," said the officer.

Two st.u.r.dy sailors drew in their oars, got up, and leaned over the bow with outstretched arms. Ebony looked at them, bestowed on them a tremendous grin, and went down with the oily ease of a northern seal!

When next seen he was full a hundred yards astern of the boat, still heading steadily for the sh.o.r.e.

"Let him go!" shouted the captain.

"Ay, ay, sir," replied the obedient officer.

And Ebony went!

Meanwhile our missionary, having told the wondering savages that he brought them _good news_, was conducted with his companion to Ongoloo's hut. But it was plain that the good news referred to, and even Waroonga himself, had not nearly so great an effect on them as the sight of Orlando, at whom they gazed with an expression half of fear and half of awe which surprised him exceedingly.

"Your story is not new to us," said Ongoloo, addressing the missionary, but gazing at Orlando, "it comes to us like an old song."

"How so?" exclaimed Waroonga, "has any one been here before with the grand and sweet story of Jesus and His love."

The reply of the savage chief was strangely antic.i.p.ated and checked at that moment by a burst of childish voices singing one of the beautiful hymns with which the inhabitants of Ratinga had long been familiar. As the voices swelled in a chorus, which distance softened into fairy-like strains, the missionary and his companion sat entranced and bewildered, while the natives looked pleased, and appeared to enjoy their perplexity.

"Our little ones," said Ongoloo, after a few minutes' pause, "are amusing themselves with singing. They often do that."

As he spoke the party were startled and surprised by the sudden appearance of Ebony, who quietly stalked into the circle and seated himself beside the missionary with the guilty yet defiant air of a man who knows that he has done wrong, but is resolved at all hazards to have his way. Considering the turn that affairs had taken, neither Orlando nor Waroonga were sorry to see him.

"This is a friend," said the latter in explanation, laying his hand on the negro's shoulder. "But tell me, chief, we are impatient for to know, where learned you that song?"

"From one who is mad," replied the chief still gazing earnestly at Orlando.

"Mad!" repeated the youth, starting up and trembling with excitement--"how know you that? Who--where is he? Ask him, Waroonga."

The explanation that followed left no doubt on Orlando's mind that his father was bereft of reason, and wandering in the neighbouring mountain.

If there had been any doubt, it would have been swept away by the chief, who quietly said, "the madman is _your father_!"

"How does he know that Waroonga?"

"I know, because there is no difference between you, except years-- and--"

He did not finish the sentence, but touched his forehead solemnly with his finger.

"Does he dwell alone in the mountains?" asked Orlando.

"Yes, alone. He lets no one approach him," answered Ongoloo.

"Now, Waroonga," said Orlando, "our prayers have been heard, and--at least partly--answered. But we must proceed with caution. You must return on board and tell Captain Fitzgerald that I go to search for my father _alone_."

"Wid the help ob dis yar n.i.g.g.e.r," interposed Ebony.

"Tell him on no account to send men in search of me," continued Orlando, paying no attention to the interruption; "and in the meantime, you know how to explain my purpose to the natives. Adieu."

Rising quickly, he left the a.s.sembly and, followed modestly but closely by the unconquerable negro, set off with rapid strides towards the mountains.

CHAPTER ELEVEN.

When Zeppa, as related in a previous chapter, staggered up the mountain side with Richard Rosco in his arms, his great strength was all but exhausted, and it was with the utmost difficulty that he succeeded at last, before night-fall, in laying his burden on the couch in his cave.

Then, for the first time, he seemed to have difficulty in deciding what to do. Now, at last, the pirate was in his power--he could do to him what he pleased! As he thought thus he turned a look of fierce indignation upon him. But, even as he gazed, the look faded, and was replaced by one of pity, for he could not help seeing that the wretched man was suffering intolerable anguish, though no murmur escaped from his tightly-compressed lips.

"Slay me, in G.o.d's name, kill me at once, Zeppa," he gasped, "and put me out of torment."

"Poor man! poor Rosco!" returned the madman in a gentle voice, "I thought to have punished thee, but G.o.d wills it otherwise."

He said no more, but rose hastily and went into the bush. Returning in a few moments with a bundle of herbs, he gathered some sticks and kindled a fire. A large earthenware pot stood close to the side of the cave's entrance--a clumsy thing, made by himself of some sort of clay.

This he filled with water, put the herbs in, and set it on the fire.

Soon he had a poultice spread on a broad leaf which, when it was cold, he applied to one of the pirate's dreadfully burnt feet. Then he spread another poultice, with which he treated the other foot.

What the remedy was that Zeppa made use of on this occasion is best known to himself; we can throw no light on the subject. Neither can we say whether the application was or was not in accordance with the practice of the faculty, but certain it is that Rosco's sufferings were immediately a.s.suaged, and he soon fell into a tranquil sleep.

Not so the madman, who sat watching by his couch. Poor Zeppa's physical sufferings and exertion had proved too much for him; the strain on his shattered nerves had been too severe, and a burning fever was now raging within him, so that the delirium consequent on disease began to mingle, so to speak, with his insanity.

He felt that something unusual was going on within him. He tried to restrain himself, and chain down his wandering, surging thoughts, but the more he sought to hold himself down, the more did a demon--who seemed to have been especially appointed for the purpose--cast his mental fastenings adrift.

At last he took it into his head that the slumbering pirate had bewitched him. As this idea gained ground and the internal fires increased, the old ideas of revenge returned, and he drew the knife which hung at his belt, gazing furtively at the sleeper as he did so.

But the better nature within the man maintained a fierce conflict with the worse.

"He murdered my son--my darling Orley!" murmured the madman, as he felt the keen edge and point of his knife, and crept towards the sleeper, while a fitful flicker of the dying fire betrayed the awful light that seemed to blaze in his eyes. "He carried me from my home! He left Marie to die in hopeless grief! Ha! ha! ha! Oh G.o.d! keep me back--back from _this_."

The noise awoke Rosco, who sat up and gazed at Zeppa in horror, for he saw at a glance that a fit of his madness must have seized him.

"Zeppa!" he exclaimed, raising himself with difficulty on both hands, and gazing sternly in the madman's face.

"Ha!" exclaimed the latter, suddenly throwing his knife on the ground within Rosco's reach, "see, I scorn to take advantage of your unarmed condition. Take that and defend yourself. I will content myself with this."