Commodore Junk

“I will not believe it,” cried Humphrey, angrily.

“Then disbelieve it; but it is true. I tell you there is no escape, man. You may get away a few miles perhaps, but every step you take bristles with the threatenings of death. So be warned, and bear your fate patiently. Wait! Grow strong once more.”

“And then!” cried Humphrey, excitedly. “What then?”

“Ah, yes,” said the buccaneer, who assumed not to have heard his words, “you are still weak. That flush in your face is the flush of fever, and you are low and excited.”

“Dog! You are mocking me!” cried Humphrey, furiously, for he felt the truth of every word that had been said, and his impotence maddened him.

“Dog!” cried the buccaneer as furiously.

“Yes; wretched cut-throat – murderer,” cried Humphrey – “miserable wretch, whom I could strangle where you stand!”

The buccaneer turned of a sallow pallor, his brow knit, his eyes flashed, and his chest heaved, as he stood glaring at Humphrey; but the sudden storm of passion passed away, and with a smile of pity he said softly —

“You call names like a petulant boy. Come, I am not angry with you, let us go back to your room. The heat of this place is too much for you, and to-morrow you will be down with fever.”

“Humph!” ejaculated Humphrey, angrily.

“It is true,” said the buccaneer. “Come.”

“There’s something behind all this,” cried the young man, excitedly. “We are alone here. I am the stronger; and, in spite of your boasting, there is no one here to help. You shall speak out, and tell me what this means.”

His gesture was threatening now; but the buccaneer did not stir.

“I am not alone,” he said, quietly. “I never am without someone to protect me. But there, you shall be answered. Why have I had you tended as I have? Well, suppose I have said to myself, ‘Here is a brave man who should be one of us.’”

“One of you!” cried Humphrey, with a scornful laugh.

“Suppose,” continued the buccaneer, with his nether lip quivering slightly, “I had said to myself, ‘You are alone here. Your men obey you, but you have no friends among them – no companions whom you can trust. Why not make this man your friend?’”

Humphrey smiled, and the buccaneer’s lip twitched slightly as he continued —

“You are fevered and disappointed now, and I shall not heed your words. I tell you once for all that you must accept your fate here as others have accepted theirs. I need not tell you that for one to escape from here would be to bring ruin upon all. Hence every one is his brother’s guardian; and the Indians for hundreds of miles around, at first our enemies till they felt my power, are now my faithful friends.”

Humphrey laughed mockingly.

“You laugh, sir. Well it is the laugh of ignorance, as you will find. It is no idle boast when I say that I am king here over my people, and the tribes to north and south.”

“The Indians too?” said Humphrey.

“Yes, the Indians too, as you found to your cost.”

“To my cost?”

“To your cost. Your ship was in my way. You troubled me; and your people had to be removed. Well, they were removed.”

“The treacherous hounds!” cried Humphrey, grinding his teeth as he recalled the action of the two Indians, and their escape.

“Treacherous! No. You would have employed men to betray me; it was but fighting you with your own weapons, sir; and these you call treacherous hounds were true, brave fellows who risked their lives to save me and mine.”

Humphrey was silent.

“Come, Captain Armstrong; you will suffer bitterly for this. There are chills and fevers in the depths of this forest which seize upon strangers like you, especially upon those weakened by their wounds, and I do not want to lose the officer and gentleman who is to be my friend and help here, where I am, as it were, alone.”

“Your friend and help!” said Humphrey, haughtily. “I am your prisoner, sir; but you forget to whom you are speaking. How dare you ask me to link my fate with that of your cut-throat band – to share with you a life of plunder and disgrace, with the noose at the yard-arm of every ship in His Majesty’s Navy waiting to end your miserable career? I tell you – I tell you – ”

He made a clutch at the nearest branch to save himself, for his head swam, black spots veiled in mist and strangely blurred seemed to be descending from above to form a blinding veil before his eyes. He recovered himself for a moment, long enough to resent the hand stretched out to save him, and then all was blank, and with a hoarse sigh he would have fallen heavily but for the strong arms that caught him, held him firmly for a few moments, and then a faint catching sigh was heard in the stillness of the forest, as Humphrey Armstrong was lowered slowly upon the moss and a soft brown hand laid upon his forehead, as the buccaneer bent down upon one knee by his side.

“Want me?” said a deep low voice; and the buccaneer started as if from a dream, with his face hardening, and the wrinkles which had been smoothed reappearing deeply in the broad forehead.

“You here, Bart?”

“Ay, I’m here.”

“Watching me?”

“Ay, watching of you.”

The buccaneer rose and gave the interloper an angry look.

“Well, why not!” said Bart. “How did I know what he’d do?”

“And you’ve seen and heard all?”

“Everything,” said Bart, coolly.

“When I told you to be within hearing only if I whistled or called.”

“What’s the use of that when a blow or a stab would stop them both?”

“Bart, I – ”

“Go on, I don’t mind,” said Bart, quietly, “I want to live, and if you was to come to harm that would be the end of me.”

The buccaneer gave an impatient stamp, but Bart paid no heed.

“Give me a lift up and I’ll carry him back,” he said quietly.

All this was done, and Dinny summoned, so that when, an hour later, Humphrey unclosed his eyes, it was with his head throbbing with fever, a wild half-delirious dreaminess troubling his brain, and the great stone image glaring down at him through the dim green twilight of the prison room.

It was a bitter experience for the prisoner to find that he had overrated his powers. The effort, the excitement, and the malaria of the forest prostrated him for a fortnight, and at the end of that time he found that he was in no condition to make a further attempt at securing the means of escape.

He lay in his gloomy chamber thinking over the buccaneer’s insolent proposal, and fully expected that he would resent the way in which it had been received; but to his surprise he received the greatest of attention, and wine, fruit, and various delicacies that had evidently come from the stores of some well-found ship were placed before him to tempt his appetite.

Dinny was his regular attendant, and always cheery and ready to help him in every way; but no more was said for a time respecting an evasion, though Humphrey was waiting his time; for after lying for hours, day after day, debating his position, he came to the conclusion that if he did escape it must be through this light-spirited Irishman.

His captor did not come to him as far as he knew; but he had a suspicion that more than once the buccaneer had been watching from some point or another unknown to him. But one day a message was brought by Bart, who entered the gloomy chamber and in his short, half-surly way thus delivered himself —