Gascoyne, the Sandal-Wood Trader

“Hold on, boy,” cried Bumpus, “not quite so fast, (as the monkey said to the barrel-organ w’en it took to playin’ Scotch reels), we must have a council of war, d’ye see? That black monster Keona may have gone right through the cave and comed out at t’ other end of it, in w’ich case it’s all up with our chance o’ findin’ ’em to-night. But if they’ve gone in to spend the night there, why we’ve nothin’ to do but watch at the mouth of it till mornin’ an’ nab ’em as they comes out.”

“Yes; but how are we to know whether they’re in the cave or not?” said Corrie, impatiently.

“Ah! that’s the puzzler,” replied Bumpus, in a meditative way; “but, of course, we must look out for puzzlers ahead sometimes w’en we gets into a land storm, d’ye see; just as we looks out ahead for breakers in a storm at sea. Suppose now that I creeps into the cave and listens for ’em. They’d never hear me, ’cause I’d make no noise.”

“You might as well try to sail into it in a big ship without making noise, you Grampus.”

To this the Grampus observed, that if the cave had only three fathoms of water in the bottom of it he would have no objection whatever to try.

“But,” added he, “suppose you go in.”

Corrie shook his head, and looked anxiously miserable.

“Well then,” said Bumpus, “suppose we light two torches. I’ll take one in one hand, and this here cutlash in the other; and you’ll take t’other torch in one hand and your pistol in the other, and clap that bit of a broken sword ’tween yer teeth, and we’ll give a horrid screech, and rush in pell-mell—all of a heap like. You could fire yer pistol straight before you on chance, (it’s wonderful wot a chance shot will do sometimes), an’ if it don’t do nothin’, fling it right into the blackguard’s face—a brass-mounted tool like that ketchin’ him right on the end of his beak would lay him flat over, like a ship in a white squall.”

“And suppose,” said Corrie, in a tone of withering sarcasm, “suppose all this happened to Alice, instead of the dirty nigger?”

“Ah! to be sure. That’s a puzzler—puzzler number two.”

Here Poopy, who had listened with great impatience to the foregoing conversation, broke in energetically.

“An’ s’pose,” said she, “dat Keona and missy Alice comes out ob cave w’en you two be talkerin’ sich a lot of stuff?”

It may as well be remarked, in passing, that Poopy had acquired a considerable amount of her knowledge of English from Master Corrie. Her remark, although not politely made, was sufficiently striking to cause Bumpus to start up, and exclaim—

“That’s true, gal; come shew us the way to this here cave.”

There was a fourth individual present at this council of war who apparently felt a deep interest in its results, although he took no part in its proceedings. This was no other than Keona himself, who lay extended at full length among the rocks, not two yards from the spot where Bumpus sat, listening intently and grinning from ear to ear with fiendish malice.

The series of shrieks, howls, and yells, to which reference has been made, had naturally attracted the attention of that wily savage when he was in the cave. Following the sounds with quick noiseless step, he soon found himself within a few paces of the deliberating trio. The savage did not make much of the conversation, but he gathered sufficient to assure himself that his hiding-place had been discovered, and that plans were being laid for his capture.

It would have been an easy matter for him to have leaped suddenly on the unsuspecting Bumpus, and driven a knife to his heart, after which, poor Corrie and the girl could have been easily dealt with; but fortunately, (at least for his enemies, if not for himself), indecision in the moment of action was one of Keona’s besetting sins. He suspected that other enemies might be near at hand, and that the noise of the scuffle might draw them to the spot. He observed, moreover, that the boy had a pistol, which, besides being a weapon that acts quickly and surely, even in weak hands, would give a loud report and a bright flash that might be heard and seen at a great distance.

Taking these things into consideration, he thrust back the knife which he had half unsheathed, and, retreating with the slow gliding motion of a serpent, got beyond the chance of being detected, just as Bumpus rose to follow Poopy to the cave.

The savage entered its yawning mouth in a few seconds and glided noiselessly into its dark recesses like an evil spirit. Soon after, the trio reached the same spot and stood for some time silently gazing upon the thick darkness within.

A feeling of awe crept over them as they stood thus, and a shudder passed through Corrie’s frame as he thought of the innumerable ghosts that might—probably did—inhabit that dismal place. But the thought of Alice served partly to drive away his fears and to steel his heart. He felt that the presence of such a sweet and innocent child must, somehow or other, subdue and baffle the power of evil spirits, and it was with some show of firmness that he said—

“Come, Bumpus, let’s go in; we are better without a torch, it would only show that we were coming; and as they don’t expect us, the savage may perhaps kindle a light which will guide us.”

Bumpus, who was not sustained by any thoughts of the supposed power or influence of the little girl, and whose superstitious fears were again doing furious battle with his natural courage, heaved a deep sigh, ground his teeth together, and clenched his fists.

Even in that dreadful hour the seaman’s faith in his physical invincibility, and in the terrible power of his fists, did not altogether fail. Although he wore a cutlass, and had used it that day with tremendous effect, he did not now draw it. He preferred to engage supernatural enemies with the weapons that nature had given him, and entered the cave on tiptoe with slow cautious steps; his fists tightly clenched and ready for instant action, yet thrust into the pockets of his coatee in a deceptively peaceful way, as if he meant to take the ghosts by surprise.

Corrie followed him, also on tiptoe, with the broken sabre in his right hand, and the cocked pistol in his left, his forefinger being on the trigger, and the muzzle pointing straight at the small of the seaman’s back—if one may be permitted to talk of such an enormous back having any “small” about it!

Poopy entered last, also on tiptoe, trembling violently, holding on with both hands to the waistband of Corrie’s trousers, and only restrained from instant flight by her anxieties and her strong love for little Alice.

Thus, step by step, with bated breath and loudly beating hearts, pausing often to listen, and gasping in a subdued way at times, the three friends advanced from the gloom without into the thick darkness within, until their gliding forms were swallowed up.

Now it so happened that the shouts and yells, to which we have more than once made reference in this chapter, attracted a band of savages who had been put to flight by Henry Stuart’s party. These rascals, not knowing what was the cause of so much noise up on the heights, and, being much too well acquainted with the human voice in all its modifications to fancy that ghosts had anything to do with it, cautiously ascended towards the cavern, just a few minutes after the disappearance of John Bumpus and his companions.

Here they sat down to hold a palaver. While this was going on, Keona carried Alice in his unwounded arm to the other end of the cave, and, making his exit through a small opening at its inner extremity, bore his trembling captive to a rocky eminence, shaped somewhat like a sugar-loaf, on the summit of which he placed her. So steep were the sides of this cone of lava, that it seemed to Alice that she was surrounded by precipices over which she must certainly tumble if she dared to move.

Here Keona left her, having first, however, said, in a low stern voice—

“If you moves, you dies!”

The poor child was too much terrified to move, even had she dared, for she, too, had heard the unaccountable cries of Poopy, although, owing to distance and the wild nature of these cries, she had failed to recognise the voice. When, therefore, her jailer left her with this threat, she coiled herself up in the smallest possible space, and began to sob quietly.

Meanwhile, Keona re-entered the cavern with a diabolical grin on his sable countenance, which, although it savoured more of evil than of any other quality, had in it, nevertheless, a strong dash of ferocious jovialty, as if he were aware that he had got his enemies into a trap, and could amuse himself by playing with them as a cat does with a mouse.

Soon the savage began to step cautiously, partly because of the rugged nature of the ground, and the thick darkness that surrounded him, and partly in order to avoid alarming the three adventurers who were advancing towards him from the other extremity of the cavern. In a few minutes he halted, for the footsteps and the whispering voices of his pursuers became distinctly audible to him, although all three did their best to make as little noise as possible.

“Wot a ’orrid place it is!” exclaimed Bumpus, in a hoarse angry whisper, as he struck his shins violently, for at least the tenth time, against a ledge of rock—

“I do b’lieve, boy, that there’s nobody here, and that we’d as well ’bout ship and steer back the way we’ve comed; tho’ it is a ’orrible coast for rocks and shoals.”

To this, Corrie, not being in a talkative humour, made no reply.

“D’ye hear me, boy?” said Jo, aloud, for he was somewhat shaken again by the dead silence that followed the close of his remark.

“All right, I’m here,” said Corrie, meekly.

“Then why don’t ye speak,” said Jo, tartly.

“I’d advise you not to speak so loud,” retorted the boy.

“Is the dark ’un there?” inquired Bumpus.

“What d’ye say?”

“The dark ’un; the lump o’ charcoal, you know.”

“Oh! she’s all safe,” replied Corrie, “I only hope she won’t haul the clothes right off my body; she grips at my waistband like a—”

Here he was cut short by Keona, who gave utterance to a low dismal wail that caused the blood and marrow of all three to freeze up, and their hearts for a moment to leap into their throats and all but choke them.

“Poopy’s gone,” gasped Corrie, after a few seconds had elapsed.

There was no doubt of the fact, for, besides the relief experienced by the boy, from the relaxing of her grip on his waistband the moment the wail was heard, the sound of the girl’s footsteps as she flew back towards the entrance of the cave was distinctly heard.

Keona waited a minute or two to ascertain the exact position of his enemies, then he repeated the wail and swelled it gradually out into a fiendish yell that awoke all the echoes of the place. At the same time, guessing his aim as well as he could, he threw a spear and discharged a shower of stones at the spot where he supposed they stood.

There is no understanding the strange workings of the human mind! The very thing that most people would have expected to strike terror to the heart of Bumpus, was that which infused courage into his soul. The frightful tones of the savage’s voice in such a place did indeed almost prostrate the superstitious spirit of the seaman, but when he heard the spear whiz past within an inch of his ear, and received a large stone full on his chest, and several small ones on other parts of his person, that instant his strength returned to him, like that of Samson, when the Philistines attempted to fall upon him. His curiously philosophical mind at once leaped to the conclusion that, although ghosts could yell, and look, and vanish, they could not throw spears or fling stones, and that, therefore, the man they were in search of was actually close beside them.

Acting on this belief, with immense subtlety Bumpus uttered a cry of feigned terror, and fled, followed by the panting Corrie, who uttered a scream of real terror at what he supposed must be the veritable ghost of the place.