Under the Waves: Diving in Deep Waters Part 31

Looking up at these, in statue-like silence, sat the pirate-chief. No one had spoken to him, and he had spoken to none since his entry there.

Sleep did not visit _his_ eyes, nor rest his heart, yet he sat perfectly still, hour after hour. Perchance he experienced the rest resulting from an iron will that abides its approaching time for action.

The tending of the wounded, the cleansing of the ship, the feeding of survivors, the shutting up and arranging for the night, had pa.s.sed away--even the groaning of sufferers had dwindled down to its lowest ebb--long before Pungarin moved with the intent to carry out his purpose.

The night-watch had been set and changed; the guard over the prisoners had been relieved; the man in charge of them had gone his rounds and examined their fetters; the careful captain had himself inspected them,--all was perfectly quiet and deemed safe, when Pungarin at last moved, and gave vent to one deep prolonged sigh that seemed to be the opening of the escape-valve of his heart, and the out-rush of its long-pent-up emotions.

Slowly, but persistently, he began to struggle, and in the darkness of the place it seemed to those of his comrades who observed him as if he were writhing like a snake. But little did his fellow-pirates heed.

Their hearts had long ago ceased to be impressible by horrid fancies.

They could not help but see what went on before their eyes--it did not require an effort to help caring!

We have already said that some of the prisoners had been bound with ropes for want of irons. Pungarin was among the number, and his almost superhuman efforts were directed to freeing himself from his rope, either by tearing his limbs out of it, or by snapping it asunder. In both attempts he failed. Sailors are, of all men, least likely to tie a knot badly, or to select a rope too weak for its purpose. The pirate at length made this discovery, and sank down exhausted. But he rose again ere long.

Those of the prisoners who had been secured by ropes were fastened to a beam overhead. The place was very low. None of them could have stood erect under this beam. While endeavouring to free himself, Pungarin had struggled on his knees. He now raised himself as high as possible on his knees. His hands, although tied in front of him, could be raised to his head. He quickly made a loop on the rope and pa.s.sed it over his head.

Just then the guard removed the hatchway, and descended to make the last inspection for the night. Pungarin hastily removed the rope, sank down and lay quite still as if in slumber.

Night pa.s.sed slowly on. The morning-star arose. The sun soon chased away the shadows, and brought joy to the awaking world. It even brought some degree of comfort to the comfortless on board the gun-boat. The sleepers began to rouse themselves, the wounded to move and relieve themselves, if possible, by change of position. The cook set about his preparations for the morning meal, and the captain, who, being dangerously close to sh.o.r.e, had taken no rest whatever during the night, gave up the charge of his vessel to the first officer, and went below to seek that repose which he had so well earned.

Ere he had closed an eye, however, his attention, was arrested by a cry, and by a peculiar noise of voices on deck. There are tones in the human voice which need no verbal explanation to tell us that they mean something serious. He jumped up and sprang on deck. As if by instinct he went towards the hatchway leading to the hold.

"He's dead, sir!" were the first words that greeted him.

A glance into the hold was enough to explain.

The pirate-chief had hanged himself. With difficulty, but with inflexible resolution, he had accomplished his purpose by fastening the rope round his neck and lifting his legs off the ground, so that he was actually found suspended in a sitting posture.

His comrades in guilt, little impressed, apparently, by his fate, sat or reclined around his body in callous indifference.

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE.

DIFFICULTIES OF VARIOUS KINDS, ALSO TROUBLES, AND A DISCOVERY.

"Gentlemen," said the captain of the gun-boat to Mr Hazlit and Edgar as they sat that morning at breakfast, "it is my intention to run to the nearest town on the coast--which happens to be Muku--have these pirates tried and shot, then proceed to Singapore, and perhaps run thence to the coast of China. I will take you with me if you wish it, or if you prefer it, will put you on board the first homeward-bound pa.s.senger-ship that we can find. What say you?"

Now, reader, we possess the happy privilege of knowing what Mr Hazlit and Edgar thought as well as what they said, and will use that privilege for purposes of our own.

In the first place, Edgar thought he should very much like to hear Mr Hazlit's views on that subject before speaking. He therefore said nothing.

The course being thus left clear to him, the merchant thought as follows:--

"It's very awkward, excessively awkward and vexatious. Here am I, ever so many thousands of miles away from home, without a single sovereign in my purse, and without even the right to borrow of the captain, for I have nothing certainly available even at home--_Some_! Why, I _have_ no home!"

At this point the poor man's thoughts took form in words.

"Ahem!" he said, clearing his throat, "I am much obliged by your kindness (`Don't mention it, sir,' from the captain), and should prefer, if possible, to reach Hong-Kong and ship thence for England. You see, I have some business friends there, and as I shall have to replenish my purse before--"

"Oh, don't let that stand in the way," said the captain, promptly, "I shall be happy to lend what you may require, and--"

"Excuse my interrupting you, captain, and thanks for your obliging offer," said Mr Hazlit, holding up his large hand as if to put the suggestion away; "but for reasons that it is not necessary to explain, I wish to recruit my finances at Hong-Kong."

"And I," said Edgar, breaking in here, "wish to go to the same place, not so much on my own account as on that of one of my companions, who has left two very pretty little pieces of property there in the shape of a wife and a child, who might object to being left behind."

This settled the question, and the breakfast party went on deck.

"Mr Hazlit," said Edgar, "will you walk with me to the stern of the vessel? I wish to get out of earshot of others."

Mr Hazlit replied, "Certainly, Mr Berrington;" but he thought a good deal more than he said. Among many other things he thought, "Ah! Here it comes at last. He thinks this a good time to renew his suit, having just rendered us such signal a.s.sistance. I think he might have waited!

Besides, his saving our lives does not alter the fact that he is still a penniless youth, and I _will_ not give my daughter to such. It is true I am a more thoroughly penniless man than he, for these villains have robbed me and Aileen of our rings, chains, and watches, on which I counted a good deal,--alas! But _that_ does not mend matters. It makes them rather worse. No, it must not be! My child's interests must be considered even before grat.i.tude. I _must_ be firm."

Thought is wondrously rapid. Mr Hazlit thought all that and a great deal more during the brief pa.s.sage from the companion-hatch to the stern-rail.

"I wish to ask you to do me a favour, Mr Hazlit," the young man began.

The merchant looked at him with a troubled expression.

"Mr Berrington, you have been the means of saving our lives. It would be ungrateful in me to refuse you any favour that I can, _with propriety_, grant."

"I am aware," continued Edgar, "that you have--have--met with losses.

That your circ.u.mstances are changed--"

Mr Hazlit coloured and drew himself proudly up.

"Be not offended, my dear sir," continued the youth earnestly; "I do not intrude on private matters--I would not dare to do so. I only speak of what I saw in English newspapers in Hong-Kong just before I left, and therefore refer to what is generally known to all. And while I sincerely deplore what I know, I would not presume to touch on it at all were I not certain that the pirates must have robbed you of all you possess, and that you must of necessity be in want of _present_ funds.

I also know that _some_ of a man's so-called `friends' are apt to fall off and fail him in the time of financial difficulty. Now, the favour I ask is that you will consider me--as indeed I am--one of your true friends, and accept of a loan of two or three hundred pounds--"

"Impossible, sir,--im--it is very kind of you--very, Mr Berrington-- but, impossible," said Mr Hazlit, struggling between kindly feeling and hurt dignity.

"Nay, but," pleaded Edgar, "I only offer you a loan. Besides, I want to benefit myself," he added, with a smile. "The fact is, I have made a little money in a diving venture, which I and some others undertook to these seas, and I receive no interest for it just now. If you would accept of a few hundreds--what you require for present necessities--you may have them at three or five per cent. I would ask more, but that, you know, would be usurious!"

Still the fallen merchant remained immovable. He acknowledged Edgar's pleasantry about interest with a smile, but would by no means accept of a single penny from him in any form.

Edgar had set his heart upon two things that morning, and had prayed, not for success, but, for guidance in regard to them.

In the first he had failed--apparently. Not much depressed, and nothing daunted, he tried the second.

"Captain," he said, pacing up and down by the side of that black-bearded, black-eyed, and powerful pirate-killer, "what say you to run back to the spot where you sank the pirates, and attempt to fish up some of the treasure with our diving apparatus?"

"I've thought of that two or three times," replied the captain, shaking his head; "but they went down in deep waters,--forty fathoms, at least,--which is far beyond your powers."

"True," returned Edgar, "but the prow of the pirate-chief was, you know, run down in only nineteen fathoms, and _that_ is not beyond us."

"Is it not?"

"No, we have already been deeper than twenty fathoms with the dress I have on board."

"There is only one objection," said the captain, pausing in his walk; "I have learned from the prisoners that before we came up with them, Pungarin had had all the money and chief treasure transferred from his own prow to another, which was a faster boat, intending to change into it himself, but that after our appearing he deferred doing so until the fight should be over. If this be true, then the treasure went down in deep water, and the chiefs prow has nothing in it worth diving for."