Dutch the Diver: or, A Man's Mistake

“But where, where, unless overboard?” wailed Bessy.

“To the deck – to the other cabin. They will fight for us. Dutch will save us from another such outrage as this.”

Bessy rose up directly, endeavoured to be firm, but she tottered, and had to cling to the slighter woman.

They stood by the door while Hester tried it, but their hearts sank as they found that they were more of prisoners than they imagined, for the door was fastened on the outside, while to make their position more painful there were no means of securing it from within.

All seemed very still; so still, in fact, that they could hear plainly the heavy breathing of the ruffian who was sleeping there alone; and as they stood trembling and listening it seemed as if a light step was coming down the cabin stairs.

It came so cautiously and stealthily that they did not dare to move lest they should not hear it. For a moment Hester was tempted to change her position, and gaze through the door, but a slight clicking noise arrested her, and she remained listening and hopefully considering whether this could be some of the promised help.

All was silent again for a time, and then there was another strange click, and something fell upon the floor, as if a sword had been knocked down.

This was followed by a sharp rustling noise, and the sleeping ruffian rose up, growled loudly, pushed the lamp on one side, so that it creaked over the table, and then seemed to lay his head down again, and began to breathe heavily.

A minute or two that seemed an hour passed away, and still the two women listened, feeling certain that help was coming, especially as the rustling noise once more commenced; and then, as they waited longingly for the unfastening of their prison door, they plainly heard the Cuban’s step on the deck, and directly after he began to descend.

Their hearts sank as they heard him coming, and they shrank away from the door, when, to their surprise, just as they were about to attribute the sounds they had heard to fancy, there was a flash as if the lamp had been raised from the table, a heavy blow, a crash as of breaking glass, and a tremendous struggle ensued in what was evidently total darkness, for the lamp had been overturned, and not a gleam shone through the door.

Oaths and curses mingled with the struggling noises which fell upon the trembling women’s ears as the two men engaged, crashed against the bulkheads, and once came so violently against the door of communication that they threatened to break it in.

This lasted for about five minutes, when the Cuban’s voice was heard shouting for lights.

The noise of the struggle had now ceased, and Hester found courage enough to look through the door, as a gleam of light shone through; and she saw three sailors entering the cabin with a lantern, which cast its light upon the bruised and bleeding face of the Cuban, who was kneeling on the chest of the ruffian who had been sleeping in the cabin.

“The drunken fool flew at me as I came in,” exclaimed Lauré, savagely.

“I didn’t,” growled the fellow. “You hit me on the head with the lamp.”

“You knocked it over in your drunken sleep,” shouted Lauré. “Here, get up: you shall stay here no longer. Go and sleep on deck.”

The man rose in a heavy, stupid way, and, muttering to himself, left the cabin and went on deck, while, under the Cuban’s orders, the men who had come down fetched another lamp, and cleared away all the traces of the struggle.

It was now evidently long past midnight, and as soon as Lauré was left alone, Hester and her companion began to tremble once more for their fate.

The Cuban was evidently restless and uneasy, for he kept getting up and walking to the stairs and listening, as if in doubt; but as an hour glided by, and all seemed perfectly still, he remained longer in his seat, and at last, as Hester watched him, she saw his glance turned towards the inner cabin, and to her horror he rose and, with a peculiar smile upon his face, came and laid his hand upon the lock of the door.

Story 1-Chapter XXXVI.

Retribution

The supreme moment seemed to have come, and with her heart beating furiously Hester made up her mind to make one more effort to reach the deck, shouting the while for help, and then if no other help came, she told herself that she could seek it in the sea.

Her hands clasped those of Bessy for a moment convulsively, and then dropping them, she stood upon her guard as the lock was shot back, the door was flung open, and in an instant Lauré caught her in his arms, when, as her lips failed to utter a shriek, there was a heavy fall on deck, the noise of feet hurrying to and fro, a crash, and with an oath Lauré rushed across the cabin, and Hester staggered back trembling into Bessy’s arms.

“What does it mean?” the latter whispered hoarsely.

“Help at last,” panted Hester, as the noise on deck increased. Shots were fired, there was another heavy full, and the clashing together of steel, followed by the voice of Lauré culling to his men to come on.

Before they dared to hope for safely, Dutch literally leaped down into the cabin, with a cutlass in his hand, followed by Mr Meldon, both men pale with excitement and stained with blood.

“Quick!” cried Dutch, catching his wife by one hand; “the scoundrels may prove too many for us.”

“Bessy, darling,” whispered Mr Meldon, hoarsely; and for a moment he folded her in his arms before leading her hastily on deck after Dutch, who had already hurried Hester below into the main cabin.

Bessy followed her on the instant, and the two men rushed forward again to where a desperate fight was going on, which resulted in Lauré and his party being driven below, but not until some severe wounds had been given on either side.

Then hatches were clapped on, and cables coiled over them, before the party dared to breathe freely and congratulate themselves on their success.

“It is more than I dared to hope for,” said Dutch, as they stood clustered round a lantern placed upon the deck, “for it was a bitter struggle.”

“Bitter, indeed,” said Mr Parkley, with a sigh. “I little thought our silver was going to be so stained with blood.”

“It may be all washed off yet,” said John Studwick, who was standing by, looking ghastly pale.

“What do you mean?” said his father.

“That you have not got it home yet,” was the reply; “and will not while that scoundrel is on board.”

“Then he shall not stay on board long,” exclaimed the captain, angrily. “There is the land, and a boat shall take him, and all he likes to claim as his followers, as soon as morning dawns.”

Hester shuddered as she crept close to her husband, and felt as if she could never cease to fear as long as the villain was at large; but his words comforted her, and for the rest of the night long careful watch was kept, and not without need, for several attempts were made by those below to force their way on deck.

Morning came, though, at last, as bright and sunny as if man never troubled the earth with his struggles, and as the sun arose the extent of the past night’s troubles were more clearly seen; for the doctor’s account showed that of their own party four had rather serious wounds, while two of the enemy lay dead, having succumbed to their injuries during the night.

To get rid of the dangerous party below was the next thing; and at last surrounding the forecastle hatch, the cable was cast off, and as soon as the opening was laid bare Lauré darted up, sword in one hand, pistol in the other, but Dutch seized one hand, Captain Studwick the other, and he was disarmed, and roughly thrown down into the little cabin from which Hester had been rescued, and the hatch secured.

Having now no leader, the other men came sulkily on deck, and gave up their arms without a struggle, and all were ordered over the side into the boat, a plentiful supply of beef and biscuit was furnished to them, with a couple of guns and ammunition, and they were rowed ashore, to make the best of their way to any settlement they could find.

“And now for the señor,” said Captain Studwick, as he returned with his well-armed party, after setting Lauré’s followers ashore.

“We must not set him ashore with those scoundrels,” said Dutch, firmly, “or he will contrive some plot to get back with them and retake the ship.”

Hester shuddered as she heard his words.

“What would you do, then?” exclaimed Mr Parkley.

“Keep him on board until we find some place to set him ashore, a couple or three hundred miles away – anywhere away from here.”

There was so much reason in Dutch’s words that it was decided to follow his advice, repugnant as it was to have the villain with them in the ship.

“And now then,” said the captain, “my motto is, homeward bound; though we cannot sail with wind and tide like this.”

“But we must not stay so near the land,” exclaimed Mr Parkley, glancing uneasily towards the sands, where the followers of the Cuban had been landed.

“I’m afraid we must,” was the reply; “but surely we can contrive to keep our prize, now we have got the upper hand.”

The feeling that they could neither sail nor get rid of Lauré acted like some great depressing influence on board, but the matter was inevitable, for to have set him ashore would have been like putting fire to gunpowder, which was safe enough left alone, so careful arrangements were made, and these being in the face of them thoroughly secure, a more satisfactory influence began to pervade the vessel, and the partners congratulated one another on the escape they had had.