Commodore Junk

Автор

George Fenn

Жанр

Зарубежная классика

Год написания книги

2017

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“Don’t be frightened.”

“I’m not,” said Humphrey, trying to make out whence the voice came, and only able to surmise that it was from somewhere over the dark corner where he slept.

“I want Dennis Kelly,” said the voice.

“He’s not here. Away with the schooner,” continued Humphrey.

“Oh!”

The ejaculation came like a moan of disappointment.

“Here, who are you?” cried Humphrey.

“No; he cannot be away, sir. But hist! hush, for heaven’s sake! You will be heard,” said the voice. “Speak low.”

“Well, I’ll speak in a whisper if you like,” said Humphrey. “But where are you?”

“Up above your chamber,” was the reply. “There is a place where the stones are broken away.”

“Then I am watched,” thought Humphrey, as the announcement recalled the captain.

“Can you see me?” he asked.

“I cannot see you where you are now, but I could if you went and lay down upon your couch.”

“Then I’ll go there,” said Humphrey, crossing the great chamber to throw himself on the blankets and skins. “Now, then, what do you want with Dinny?”

“I knew the captain had gone to sea,” said the voice, evasively; “but I did not know Kelly had been taken too. He cannot be, without letting me know.”

“Can you come down and talk to me!”

“No; you are too well watched.”

“Then how did you get here?”

“I crept through the forest and climbed up,” was the reply. “I can see you now.”

“But how did you know you could see me there?”

“I thought I could. I was watching for someone a little while ago, and saw the captain looking down through here.”

“I thought as much,” said Humphrey, half aloud; and he was about to speak again when Bart entered suddenly, looked sharply round, and showed the wisdom of his new visitor by going straight to the window and looking out.

“Who were you talking to?” he said, gruffly, as he came back, still looking suspiciously round.

“To myself,” said Humphrey, quite truthfully, for his last remark had been so addressed.

Bart uttered a grunt, and glanced at the dinner.

“Done?” he said.

“No. Surely I may spend as long as I like over my meals here.”

Bart nodded and went out, the heavy curtain falling behind him; while Humphrey slowly rose and went back to the stone altar, where he filled a silver cup from the flask and drank, and then began humming an air. After this he walked to the curtain and peered cautiously through into the dark corridor, to see the heavy figure of the buccaneer’s henchman go slowly along past the patches of dull green light streaming through the openings which occurred some thirty feet apart.

“Gone!” said Humphrey, returning quickly. “Are you there?”

“Yes. I could hear everything.”

“Listen!” said Humphrey, quickly. “You are Mistress Greenheys?”

“Yes.”

“And you love Dennis Kelly?”

There was silence.

“You need not fear me. I know your history,” continued Humphrey. “You are, like myself, a prisoner and in the power of that black-looking lieutenant.”

There was a piteous sigh here, and then came with a sob —

“I am a miserable slave, sir.”

“Yes, yes, I know. Then look here, can we not all escape together?”

“Escape, sir! How?”

“Through Dinny’s help.”

“He would not give it, sir. It would be impossible. I – I – there! I will speak out, sir – I can bear this horrible life no longer! I have asked him to take me away.”

“Well, will he not?”

“He is afraid, sir.”

“And yet he loves you?”

“He says so.”

“And you believe it, or you would not run risks by coming here?”

“Risks!” said the woman, with a sigh. “If Mazzard knew I came here he would kill me!”

“The wretch!” muttered Humphrey. Then aloud, “Dinny must help us. Woman, surely you can win him to our side! You will try!”

“Try, sir! I will do anything!”

“Work upon his feelings, and I will try and do the same.”