Dutch the Diver: or, A Man's Mistake

“Anything – nothing. I had got it into my head that this fellow wanted to stop us, and I was prepared to be overhauled by a swift steamer; for a mutiny on board; to find him here first – there, it is always the way; once give your imagination its head, and away it goes.”

“Well, nothing could have gone better than the trip has since we started, and if it should prove that there is treasure below us here, all we have to do is to dive and get it all.”

“If the sharks will let you,” said the captain.

“Well, at first I thought we were completely checkmated, but you saw what Pugh did to-day,” he continued, in a low tone. “It’s my belief that if obstacles ten times as difficult offer themselves, he would surmount them.”

They both glanced at Dutch, and then followed his eyes to see that the ladies were gathering flowers, the men fruit and shellfish, and that all on shore looked so peaceful and lovely that the longing came upon them to join the little party.

“It is so easy to imagine danger,” said the captain; and then, lulled by the peaceful aspect of matters into security, they went on talking in a low tone about the various incidents of the day, while Dutch kept stern watch alone.

Meanwhile, John Studwick’s jealous fancies passed away as his feet touched the sand, and it was with a thrill of delight that he pointed towards the lovely tropic scene before him.

“Flowers, fruit, mossy carpet,” he said fervently. “Why, it is really Eden – a paradise. I could live here, I think.”

There was an inexpressible sadness in his words, and Bessy’s eyes filled with tears as she glanced at Hester, for she knew but too well that her brother’s days were numbered.

Hester’s heart was full to overflowing, and these words and her friend’s sad look had touched the spring ready to gush forth. It was only by a great effort that she could keep from a hysterical fit of crying, and she was obliged to turn away.

John Studwick smiled lovingly upon his sister, though, directly after, for his heart smote him for many little harsh words directed at her in regard to Mr Meldon; and he began to chat earnestly to her about the flowers, calling one of the men to get down a cocoanut or two for them, and sitting down to watch the man make a gasket or band of twisted cane with almost boyish pleasure, Bessy’s eyes brightening as she saw his eagerness, and remembering the bright happiness of that scene for years to come.

For the spot was lovely, and in the shade of the densely foliaged trees the wondrous blossoms of gaily tinted bellflowers hung in wreaths and garlands as they festooned the undergrowth and offered their nectary cups to the humming birds that flashed in and out of the sunshine to poise themselves on invisible wings, while each moment some new object struck the eye.

It was, indeed, a scene of loveliness to the sick man and his sister as they rose and wandered here and there, now gazing into beautiful green glades, now looking up at the delicate lacework of some wonderful tree-fern against the sky, or toward the deep blue sea, with the schooner doubled before them as it lay mirrored in its breast. But bright as it was to them, the beauteous scene was, as it were, covered with ashes to Hester Pugh. The sky might have been dark, and the sun’s light quenched even as was the light of hope in her breast. She had thought that Dutch would have listened to her before now, and that this dreadful cloud of suspicion would have been swept away; but no, he had let her come ashore without a word, as if careless of her fate, and at last, blind with the gathering tears, she had wandered slowly away unnoticed amongst the trees, as she thought, to find some place where she could relieve her bursting heart and throbbing brain of the tears that she had kept back so long.

She sank down at last upon the trunk of a fallen tree, sobbing as if her heart would break, and, as her head sank down upon her hands, she moaned in the bitterness of her spirit.

All was silent for a time, and in her grief she did not hear the rustling amongst the trees, and it was not until her hands were taken and drawn gently from before her face that she looked up, to see, with the blood chilling in her veins, the mulatto upon his knees before her, gazing with glittering eyes, full in hers.

She was too much surprised and frightened to cry out, but she tried to start up and flee. The effort was vain, though, for, tightening his hold of her hands, the man rested his arms upon her knees and kept her a prisoner.

“Hush!” he said; “for your own sake be silent.”

“Let me go,” she panted, hoarsely.

“No, no, beautiful Hester,” he whispered, his voice low with passion. “Why do you pretend that you do not recognise me, when you know me so well?”

“How dare you!” she began, in a loud voice, when the glittering eyes fixed upon hers seemed to fascinate her, and her tongue refused its office.

“How dare I?” he laughed; “because I love you more than even I loved you the first day I saw you in that dark office in miserable, cold England; I loved you when, in those dear ecstatic days, I hung over you in your little home, when that jealous fool, your husband, interrupted our tête-à-têtes with his hateful presence; and now, in this nature’s paradise, I love you more – more dearly than ever, even though I have lived these many weeks only to hear your sweet voice.”

“Lauré!” she panted, with dilating eyes.

“Yes, Lauré, your Manuel, who loves you,” he whispered, his face now transformed, and the dull, drooping look of the mulatto gone, to give place to the flashing eyes of the Cuban. “Pish! you have known me all along. You are the only one that my disguise could not deceive. I might have known that no darkened skin, no false scar, no assumed limp or cunning disguise could deceive the woman I love and who loves me.”

Hester struggled once more to rise, but she was powerless in his grasp, and in the horror she felt at the discovery of this man’s presence she could not cry for help. It was to her like some terrible nightmare; there were the voices on the sands, help was so near, and yet she could not claim it.

“I was afraid that you would betray me at first, dearest,” he whispered, with his face close to hers, and his hot breath fanning her cheeks; “but I need not have feared, and I waited and suffered. There, do not struggle, little one, you are so safe with me. Have I not watched him and his cold, brutal cruelty to you – the way he has neglected, scorned one who is to me all that is bright and beautiful, and for whose sake I have hacked and disguised myself, working with a set of coarse sailors, eating their wretched fare, sleeping in their miserable den. Hester, beautiful Hester, but you will reward me for all this. You will live with me here in one of these beauteous sunny lands, where all is bright, and where the very air breathes love.”

“Let me go,” she panted.

“No, no,” he whispered, “you cannot be so cruel. Only a short time now and the object of my mission is over, and then – then – Oh, my darling, I love you – I love you.”

He clasped her in his arms, and, in spite of her struggles, his lips sought hers, when the sound of approaching voices made him start up.

Hester’s lips moved to shriek for help, but he laid his hand quickly upon her mouth, and held her tightly to him, as he whispered:

“One word – say a word of what has passed, and Pugh, perhaps all your friends will die.”

She glanced at him and shuddered, as she saw his hand go into his breast, and read in his eyes too plainly so fell a purpose, that she knew she dared not speak.

“Sit down,” he whispered. “I shall be watching you from close at hand. If you betray me, it is some one’s death signal. You are mine, Hester; you know I love you; but I would not force that love when I know that soon it must be mine.”

He pressed her back into her seat, and glided into the low bushes, her eyes following till she saw him crouch, and knew that he had his gaze fixed upon her face, and read it, so that if she attempted to betray him he might keep his word.

The horror was more than she could bear, for this discovery taught her of the danger to Dutch, perhaps to all on board. Partly from his passion for her, then, partly to watch the proceedings of the adventurers, he had contrived to get on board, and was undiscovered. Here, then, was the secret of what she had looked upon as an insult from a half-savage sailor.

She let her pale face fall again into her hands, and sat there shivering, not daring even to answer, though she heard Bessy’s voice close at hand.

What should she do? What should she do? She dared not speak now, but as soon as they were safe on board she would warn Dutch of his danger, and if the Cuban slew her, what then? She would have saved her husband’s dear life.

But if he killed Dutch instead!

The thought paralysed her, and a death-like perspiration broke out on her forehead as she felt that she dared not speak lest ill should happen to him she loved. She essayed to rise, but sank back trembling, with her eyes fixed upon the spot where she knew the Cuban was hidden, when Bessy came in sight.

“Why, you’ve been crying, dear,” she said, gaily, as she sat down beside her on the tree trunk. “Come, come, dear, be a woman. All will come right if we wait.”

“All will come right if we wait,” muttered Hester to herself. Would it? Ought she to wait and trust, or should she warn Dutch?

“Yes, she would,” she said to herself, as soon as they were on board; and, rising, she accompanied Bessy on to the beach, where the first person on whom her eyes lit was the Cuban, with drooping eyelids, limping slowly along with some shellfish in his hand, so changed once more that Hester asked herself whether this scene had indeed been the nightmare of some dream.

A shout came now from the schooner, and they moved towards the boat, for the sun was beginning to dip, when another shout from behind made them turn, to see Mr Wilson, Mr Meldon, and the two sailors coming from their expedition, laden with beautifully-plumaged birds.

They were soon on board once more, Hester sick at heart, for the Cuban had contrived to whisper to her that one word, “Remember!” and she had shrunk away shivering, feeling that she dared not speak. So great was this man’s influence over her that she spent the evening in torture, feeling that his eyes were following her everywhere, that his face was at her cabin window, at the skylight; and she was in both instances right, for Lauré felt that she might betray him at any moment, and his plans were not yet ripe.

He watched, then, without intermission, with the intent of forcing her to swear some terrible oath that she would be silent, and this he felt that he could exact from her could he get the chance.

“I shall begin to think that you are going to have some relapse, Hester,” said Bessy at last, as they sat alone, trying to read by the light in their little cabin, for John Studwick had gone to rest, and Bessy was sitting with Hester alone.

“Oh, no,” she exclaimed, with a smile, “I am quite well.”

“But you have been acting so strangely, and starting as you looked up at the skylight. Surely you have not caught some terrible fever through sitting in that bit of jungle.”

“Oh, no; I am quite well,” said Hester, making an effort to control her feelings. “The heat, perhaps, makes me nervous.”

“I know,” said Bessy, “you are nervous about your husband going down to-morrow.”

“Yes, yes, I am,” cried Hester. “I always fear when I know of his taking the work in hand himself. He is so venturesome.”