Produced by Nick Hodson of London, England




The Island Treasure, or The Black Man's Ghost, by John Conroy Hutcheson.

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Starting with excuses, this book was rather hard to transcribe to
digital format.  It was unevenly printed on a rather rough paper, so
that many words were hard to read, even to the naked eye.  Several of
the characters in the book spoke in their own dialect or with a heavy
foreign accent, so that many of the words in the book were not words in
the English language.  And if that were not all the copy used was
somewhat spotted.  But we seem to have come though those trials, and we
present a very readable book.

Another strange matter with the book was that the title on the cover, on
the title page, and at the start of the first chapter was "The Island
Treasure", while thereafter every even-numbered page is headed "The
Black Man's Ghost", which is the title under which the book was
copyrighted.

The story is told from the viewpoint of a young cabin-boy, who had run
away to sea from a good vicarage home.  There is a most unpleasant
captain, from the American "Down-East".  The first-mate is pretty nasty
too, while the second-mate has a very strong Danish accent, but is a
good man, as is the ship's carpenter.  The ship's cook, a black man from
Jamaica, is the protagonist, the ghost.

The ship is wrecked intact on Abingdon Island in the Galapagos, being
carried ashore by a tsunami.  There is a lot of treasure on the island,
dating from the buccaneers' time.  We will take you no further into the
story, but it is well told, and makes a good read and a good listen.

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THE ISLAND TREASURE, OR THE BLACK MAN'S GHOST, BY JOHN CONROY HUTCHESON.



CHAPTER ONE.

OFF THE TUSKAR LIGHT.

"All hands take in sail!"

"Stand by y'r tops'l halliards!"

"Let go!"

Sharply shouted out in quick succession came these orders from Captain
Snaggs, the hoarse words of command ringing through the ship fore and
aft, and making even the ringbolts in the deck jingle--albeit they were
uttered in a sort of drawling voice, that had a strong nasal twang, as
if the skipper made as much use of his nose as of his mouth in speaking.
This impression his thin and, now, tightly compressed lips tended to
confirm; while his hard, angular features and long, pointed, sallow
face, closely shaven, saving as to the projecting chin, which a
sandy-coloured billy-goat beard made project all the more, gave him the
appearance of a man who had a will of his own, aye, and a temper of his
own, too, should anyone attempt to smooth him down the wrong way, or, in
sea parlance, "run foul of his hawse!"

Captain Snaggs did not look particularly amiable at the present moment.

Standing by the break of the poop, with his lean, lanky body half bent
over the rail, he was keeping one eye out to windward, whence he had
just caught sight in time of the coming squall, looking down below the
while at the hands in the waist jumping briskly to their stations and
casting off the halliards with a will, almost before the last echo of
his shout `let go!' had ceased to roar in their ears; and yet the
captain's gaze seemed to gleam beyond these, over their heads and away
forwards, to where Jan Steenbock, the second-mate, a dark-haired Dane,
was engaged rousing out the port watch, banging away at the fo'c's'le
hatchway and likewise shouting, in feeble imitation of the skipper's
roar,--

"All ha-ands, ahoy!  Doomble oop, my mans, and take in ze sail!  Doomble
oop!"

But the men, who had only been relieved a short time before by the
starboard watch, and had gone below for their dinner when `eight bells'
were struck, seemed rather loth at turning out again so soon for duty,
the more especially as their caterer had just brought from the cook's
galley the mess kid, full of some savoury compound, the appetising odour
of which filled the air, and, being wafted upwards from below, made even
the swarthy second-mate feel hungry, as he peered down the hatchway and
called out to the laggards to come on deck.

"It vas goot, ja," murmured Jan Steenbock to himself, wiping his
watering mouth with the back of his jacket sleeve and sniffing up a
prolonged sniff of the odorous stew.  "It vas goot, ja, and hart to leaf
ze groob; but ze sheeps cannot wait, my mans; zo doomble oop dere!
Doomble oop!"

Captain Snaggs, however, his watchful weather eye and quick intelligence
taking in everything at a glance, liked the second-mate's slowness of
speech and action as little as he relished the men's evident reluctance
at hurrying up again on deck; for, although barely a second or two had
elapsed from his first order to the crew, he grew as angry as if it had
been a "month of Sundays," his sallow face flushing with red streaks and
his sandy billy-goat beard bristling like wire, every hair on end, just
as a cat's tail swells at the sight of a strange dog in its immediate
vicinity when it puts up its back.

"Avast thaar, ye durned fule!" he screamed in his passion, dancing about
the poop and bringing his fist down with a resounding thump on the brass
rail, as if the inanimate material represented for the nonce the back of
the mate, whom he longed to belabour.  "Guess one'd think ye wer coaxin'
a lot o' wummen folk to come to a prayer-meetin'!  Why don't ye go down
in the fo'c's'le an' drive 'em up, if they won't come on deck when
they're hailed?  Below thaar, d'ye haar?--all hands reef tops'ls!"

This shout, which the captain yelled out in a voice of thunder, finally
fetched the dawdlers on deck, first one and then another crawling up the
hatchway with lingering feet, in that half-hearted, dilatory,
aggravating way that sailors--and some shore people, too for that
matter--know well how to put on when setting to a task that runs against
their grain and which they do not relish; though they can be spry
enough, and with ten times the smartness of any landsmen, when
cheerfully disposed for the work they have in hand, or in the face of
some real emergency or imminent peril, forgetting then their past
grievances, and buckling to the job right manfully, in true `shellback'
fashion, as if many-handed, like Briareus, with every hand a dozen
fingers on it, and each finger a hook!

So it could be seen now.

The _Denver City_, a ship-rigged vessel of about thirteen hundred tons
burthen, bound from Liverpool to San Francisco with a general cargo, had
been two days out from the Mersey, battling against bad weather all the
way from the start, with a foul wind, that shifted from the west to
south-west and back again to the west, dead in her teeth, as she essayed
to shape her course down Saint George's Channel to the Atlantic.

First, beating to the westward with the ebb tide, so as to give Great
Orme's Head a wide berth, and then making a short board south when she
had cleared Anglesey; what with the currents and the thick fog,
accompanied with driving rain, that she met on nearing the Welsh coast,
she nearly came to grief on the Skerries, the water shoaling rapidly on
the lead being hove, shortly before the bright fixed light showing above
the red on the Platters rocks loomed close in on the starboard bow.
This made it a case of 'bout ship at once, Captain Snaggs thenceforth
hugging the Irish side of the channel way and keeping it well on board
on the port tack; and so on this second morning after leaving Liverpool,
the ship was some six miles south of the Tuskar Light, with a
forty-fathom bottom under her and the wind still to the southward and
westward, right ahead of her true course, but shifting and veering from
one point to another, and with a sudden sharp squall coming every now
and then, by way of a change, to increase the labour of the men, already
pretty well worn out by forty-eight hours tacking to and fro in the
captain's endeavours to beat to windward in the face of the foul
weather.

As the _Denver City_, too, reached the more open seaway, the water got
rougher, a northern stream setting up the Irish Sea from Scilly meeting
the incoming tide round Carnsore Point, and causing a nasty chopping
sea; which, save in the sullen green hollows of the waves, was dead and
lead-coloured as far as the eye could reach--as leaden, indeed, as the
heavy grey sky overhead, where some fleecy floating clouds of lighter
wrack, rapidly drifting across the darker background that lined the
horizon all round, made the latter of a deeper tone by contrast, besides
acting as the _avant courier_ of a fresh squall--the wind just then
tearing and shrieking through the rigging in short angry gusts and then
sighing as it wailed away to leeward, like the spirit of some lost
mariner chaunting the requiem of those drowned in the remorseless deep!

When the port watch had gone below at `eight bells,' as mentioned
before, to have their dinner, the weather had looked a little brighter,
a small patch of blue sky, not quite as big as the Dutchman's proverbial
pair of breeches, showing right overhead at the zenith as the ship's
bell struck the midday hour, giving a slight promise of better things to
come; and so, as Captain Snaggs had been trying to `carry on' all he
could from the time the vessel left the Mersey, working the hands to
death, as they imagined, unnecessarily in tacking and beating about in
his attempt to make a fair wind out of a foul one, instead of waiting
more sensibly for a more favourable breeze, such as might reasonably be
expected in another day or two at most--judging by those signs sailors
know so well, as do farmers, but which are inexplainable according to
any natural meteorological laws--the hands now thought, on being so
suddenly summoned again on deck, and forced to leave their untasted meal
just as they were in the very act, so to speak, of putting it into their
mouths, and with its tantalising taste and smell vexing them all the
more, that the `old man' only roused them out again from sheer malice
and devilry, to make another fresh tack or short board, with the object
of `hazing' or driving them, as only slaves and sailors can be driven in
these days by a brutal captain and hard taskmaster!

This it was that made them loth to leave their snug and warm fo'c's'le,
filled as it was with the grateful odour of the appetising lobscouse
which Sam Jedfoot, the negro cook, a great favourite with the crew by
reason of his careful attention to their creature comforts, had so
thoughtfully compounded for them; and thus it was that they crawled up
the hatchway from below so laggardly, in response to the second-mate's
pleading order and Captain Snaggs second stentorian hail, as if they
were ascending a mountain, and each man had a couple of half-hundred
weights tied to his legs, so as to make his movements the slower.

"Hoo-ry oop, mans!" cried the second-mate, in his queer foreign lingo.
"Hoo-ry oop, or you vill have ze skipper after yous!  He vas look as if
he vas comin' down ze poop ladder joost now!"

"Durn the skipper!  He ain't got no more feelin' in his old carkiss than
a Rock Island clam!" muttered the leading man of the disturbed watch, as
he stepped out over the coaming of the hatchway on to the deck, as
leisurely as if he were executing a step in the sword dance; but, the
next moment, as his eye took in the position of the ship and the scene
around, the wind catching him at the moment, and almost knocking him
backwards down the hatchway, as it met him full butt, he made a dash for
the weather rigging, shouting out to his companions behind, who were
coming up out of the fo'c's'le just as slowly as he had done: "Look
alive, mates!  Ther's a reg'lar screamer blowin' up, an' no mistake.
We'll be took aback, if we don't get in our rags in time.  Look smart;
an' let's show the skipper how spry we ken be when we chooses!"

The captain, or `skipper', soon supplemented this advice by another of
his roaring commands, yelled out at a pitch of voice that defied alike
the shriek of the wind, and the noise of the sea, and the slatting of
the huge topsails as they bellied out into balloons one moment and then
flapped back again with a bang against the swaying masts, that quivered
again and again with the shock, as if the next blow would knock them out
of the ship.

"Forrud there!  Away aloft, ye lazy skunks!" cried Captain Snaggs, when
he saw the watch at last turn out, gripping the brass poop rail in front
of him with both hands, so as to steady himself and prevent his taking a
header into the waist below, as he seemed to be on the point of doing
every minute, in his excitement.  "Lay out, thaar, on the yards, ye
skulking lubbers!  Lay out, thaar, d'ye hear?  Thaar's no time to lose!
Sharp's the word an' quick the motion!"

The starboard watch, which had been waiting for the others, at once
rounded the weather braces, so as to take the wind out of the sails as
the men raced aloft, each anxious now to be first out on the yard; and,
the reef tackle being hauled out, the spilling lines were clutched hold
of, and the heavy folds of the canvas gathered up, the men at the
yard-arms seeing to the earring being clear and ready for passing, with
the hands facing to leeward, so as to lighten the sail and assist the
weather earring being hauled out, as they held the reef-line, and again
facing to windward and lightening the sail there in the same fashion, so
as to haul out the lee-earring before the signal was given by those out
at the end of the yard-arms to "toggle away!"

It was risky work, especially as the ship was rather shorthanded, to
attempt reefing the three topsails all at once, but the job was at last
accomplished to the captain's apparent satisfaction, for he sang out for
them to come down from aloft; when, the topsail halliards being brought
to the capstan, the yards were bowsed again, the slack of the ropes
coiled down, and everything made comfortable.

Captain Snaggs, however, had not done with them yet.

"Clew up an' furl the mainsail!"

"Man the jib down-haul!"

"Brail up the spanker!"

He shouted out these several orders as quickly as he could bawl them,
the creaking of the cordage and rattling of the clew-garnet blocks
forming a fitting accompaniment to his twangy voice; while the plaintive
`Yo--ho--hoy--e!  Yo--ho--hai--e!' of the men, as they hauled upon the
clewlines and leech and buntlines of the heavy main course, chimed in
musically with the wash of the waves as they broke over the bows,
dashing high over the yard-arms in a cataract of spray, and wetting to
the skin those out on the fo'c's'le furling the jib--these having the
benefit also of a second bath below the surface as well, when the ship
dived under as they got on to the footrope of the jib-boom, plunging
them into the water up to their middles and more.

"I guess, we're going to hev it rougher yet," said the captain
presently, when the second-mate came aft, after seeing all snug forward,
to ask whether he might now dismiss the port watch to their long delayed
dinner.  "Thet thaar squall wer a buster, but thaar's worse comin', to
my reck'nin'.  We'd best take another reef in them topsails an' hev one
in the foresail, too."

"Verra goot, sir!" replied Jan Steenbock, the mate, respectfully, as he
made his way forward again to where the men were waiting, anxious to go
below to their lobscouse--cold, alas! by now.  "Verra goot!"

Captain Snaggs smiled contemptuously after him, and then broke into a
laugh, which was shared in by the first-mate, an American like himself,
but one of a stouter and coarser stamp and build, albeit he boasted of a
more romantic sort of name--Jefferson Flinders, to wit.  This worthy now
sniggering in sympathy, as he came up the after companion and took his
place by the captain's side, having been roused out before his time by
the commotion on deck.

"A rum coon thet, sir," said he to the captain, in response to his
laugh.  "He'll be the death of me some day, I reckon, with thet durned
`verra goot!' of his'n, you bet, sir!"

"We've a rum lot o' hands altogither aboard, Flinders--chaps ez thinks
they hev only come to sea to eat an' enj'y themselves, an' don't want to
work fur thaar grub; but, I guess I'll haze' 'em, Flinders, I'll haze'
'em!" snapped out Captain Snaggs, in reply, his wiry billy-goat beard
bristling again as he yelled out in a louder tone,--"Forrud thaar!
Mister Steenbock; what air ye about, man--didn't I tell ye I want
another reef taken in them topsails?  Away aloft with ye agen; lay out
thaar, an' look spry about it!"

The halliards were therefore again let go, and the same performance gone
through as before, with the addition of the men having to go up on the
fore yard after they had finished with the topsails, and take a reef as
well in the foresail--another piece of touch work.

As the ship was then found not to steer so well close-hauled, without
any headsail, on account of the jib being lowered down, the foretopmost
staysail was hoisted in its place and the bunt of the spanker loosened,
to show a sort of `goose-wing' aft,--this little additional fore and aft
sail now giving her just the steadying power she wanted for her helm,
and enabling her to lie a bit closer to the wind.

"Thet will do, the port watch!" cried Captain Snaggs at length, and the
men were scampering back to the fo'c's'le in high glee, glad of being
released at last, when, as if he'd only been playing with them--as a cat
plays with a mouse--he arrested their rush below with another shout,--

"Belay thaar!  All hands 'bout ship!"

"Ha! ha!" sniggered Jefferson Flinders, the first-mate, behind him,
enjoying the joke amazingly; "guess ye had 'em thaar, cap.  Them coons
'll catch a weasel asleep, I reckon, when they try working a traverse on
a man of the grit of yourn!"

"Bully for ye," echoed the captain, grinning and showing his yellow
teeth, while his pointed beard wagged out.  "Say, Flinders, I'll fix
'em!"

The men, though, did not relish the joke; nor did they think it such an
amusing one!  It might, certainly, have been necessary to put the ship
about, for the leeway she was making, coupled with the set of the cross
tides, was causing her to hug the Irish coast too much, so that she was
now bearing right on to the Saltee rocks, the vessel having covered the
intervening twenty odd miles of water that lay between the Tuskar and
this point since the hands had been first called up; but Captain Snaggs
could have done this just as well off-hand after the topsails were
reefed, without waiting until the men were ready to go below again
before giving the fresh order.

It was only part and parcel of his tyrannical nature, that never seemed
satisfied unless when giving pain and annoyance to those forced to serve
under him.

And so, the men grumbled audibly as they came back once more from the
fore hatch, manning the sheets and braces, when the skipper's warning
shout was heard,--

"Helm's a-lee!"

"Tacks and sheets!" the next order followed; when the head sails were
flattened and the ship brought up to the wind.

Then came,--

"Mainsail haul!" and the ponderous yards were swung round as the _Denver
City_ payed off handsomely, close-reefed as she was, on the starboard
tack, shaping a course at a good right angle to her former one, so as
now to weather the Smalls light, off the Pembroke shore, at the entrance
to the Bristol Channel--a course that required a stiff lee helm, and
plenty of it, as the wind had now fetched round almost due south, well
before the beam.

"Thet will do, the watch!" then called out Captain Snaggs once more; but
the men were not to be taken in a second time, and waited, grouped about
the hatchway, to see whether he would call them back again.

He did not, however.

So, their stopping there made him angry.

"Thet'll do, the watch!  D'ye haar?" he shouted a second time.  "If ye
want to go below fur y'r grub, ye'd better go now, fur, I guess I won't
give ye another chance, an' yer spell in the fo'c's'le 'll soon be up.
Be off with ye sharp, ye durned skallawags, or I'll send ye up agen to
reef tops'ls!"

This started them, and they disappeared down the hatchway in `a brace of
shakes,' the skipper turning round to the first-mate then, as if waiting
for him to suggest some further little amusement for the afternoon.

Mr Jefferson Flinders was quite equal to the occasion.

"Didn't you call all hands, cap, jist now?" asked he, with suspicious
innocence; "I thought I kinder heerd you."

"Guess so," replied Captain Snaggs.  "Why?"

"'Cause I didn't see thet precious nigger rascal, Sam Jedfoot.  The
stooard an' thet swab of a Britisher boy ye fetched aboard at Liverpool
wer thaar, sir, an' every blessed soul on deck but thet lazy nigger."

"'Deed, an' so it wer, I guess," said the captain musingly, as if to
himself; and then he slipped back from the binnacle, where he had been
talking to the first-mate, to his original position on the break of the
poop, when, catching hold of the brass rail as before, he leant over and
shouted forward at the pitch of his twangy voice; "Sam Jedfoot, ye
durned nigger, ahoy thaar!  Show a leg, or ye'll lump it!"



CHAPTER TWO.

"A GEN'LEMAN OB COLOUR."

"Thet swab of a Britisher boy," so opprobriously designated by the
first-mate as having been "fetched aboard at Liverpool" by the captain,
as if he were the sweepings of the gutter, was really no less a
personage, if I may be allowed to use that term, than myself, the
narrator of the following strange story.

I happened, as luck would have it, to be standing just at his elbow when
he made the remark, having come up the companion way from the cabin
below the poop by the steward's directions to tell Captain Snaggs that
his dinner was ready; and, as may be imagined, I was mightily pleased
with his complimentary language, although wondering that he gave me the
credit of pulling and hauling with the others in taking in sail on `all
hands' being summoned, when every idler on board ship, as I had learnt
in a previous voyage to New York and back, is supposed to help the rest
of the crew; and so, of course, I lent my little aid too, doing as much
as a boy could, as Mr Jefferson Flinders, the captain's toady and
fellow bully, although he only played second fiddle in that line when
the skipper was on deck, could have seen for himself with half an eye.

Oh, yes, I heard what he said; and I believe he not only called me a
`swab,' but an `ugly' one as well!

Indeed, I heard everything, pretty nearly everything, that is, and was
able to see most of what occurred from the time when we were off the
Tuskar Light until Captain Snaggs hailed the cook to come aft; for I was
in and out of the cuddy and under the break of the poop all the while,
except now that I went up the companion, and stood by the booby hatch
over it, waiting for the captain to turn round, so that I could give him
the steward's message.

But the skipper wasn't in any hurry to turn round at first, sticking
there grasping the rail tightly, and working himself up into a regular
fury because poor Sam didn't jump out of his galley at the sound of his
voice and answer his summons; when, if he'd reflected, he would have
known that the wind carried away his threatening words to leeward,
preventing them from reaching the negro cook's ears, albeit these were
as big and broad as the bell-mouth of a speaking trumpet.

The captain, though, did not think of this.

Not he; and, naturally, not recognising the reason for the negro's
non-appearance immediately on his calling him, he became all the more
angry and excited.

"Sam--Sambo--Sam Jedfoot!" he roared, raising his shrill voice a pitch
higher in each case, as he thus successively rang the changes on the
cook's name in his queer way, making the first-mate snigger behind him,
and even I could not help laughing, the captain spoke so funnily through
his nose; while Jan Steenbock, the second-mate, who was standing by the
mainmast bitts, I could see, had a grim smile on his face.  "Sam, ye
scoundrel!  Come aft hyar at once when I hail, or by thunder I'll
keelhaul ye, ez safe ez my name's Ephraim O Snaggs!"

The bathos of this peroration was too much for Jan Steenbock, and he
burst into a loud "ho! ho!"

It was the last straw that broke the camel's--I mean the captain's--
back, and he got as mad as a hatter.

"Ye durned Dutch skunk!" he flamed out, the red veins cross-hatching his
face in his passion.  "What the blue blazes d'ye mean by makin' fun o'
yer cap'n?  Snakes an' alligators, I'll disrate ye--I'll send ye forrud;
I'll--I'll--"

"I vas not means no harms, cap'n," apologised the other, on the skipper
stopping in his outburst for want of breath, the words appearing to be
choking in his mouth, coming out too quick for utterance, so that they
all got jumbled together.  "I vas hab no bad respect of yous, sare.  I
vas only lafs mit meinselfs."

"Then I'd kinder hev ye ter know, Mister Steenbock, thet ye'd better not
laugh with yerself nor nary a body else when I'm on the poop," retorted
Captain Snaggs, not believing a word of this lucid explanation, although
he did not seemingly like to tell him so, and quarrel right out.  "I
guess though, as ye're so precious merry, ye might hev a pull taken at
thet lee mainbrace.  If ye wer anything of a seaman ye'd hev done it
without me telling ye!"

Having administered this `flea in the ear' to the second-mate, the
captain turned round abruptly on his heel, with a muttered objurgation,
having some reference to Jan Steenbock's eyes; and, as he looked aft, he
caught sight of me.

"Jee-rusalem, b'y!" he exclaimed; "what in thunder air ye doin' hyar?
The poop ain't no place fur cabin b'ys, I reckon."

"The steward sent me up, sir," I replied, trembling; for he looked as
fierce as if he could eat me without salt, his bristly beard sticking
out and wagging in the air, as he spoke in that snarling voice of his.
"He t-t-old me to tell you, sir, that dinner was ready in the cabin,
sir."

The ship at the moment giving a lurch to port, as a fresh blast of wind
caught her weather side, sending a big sea over the waist, I rolled up
against him as I answered his question.

"Then ye ken skoot right away an' tell him thet I guess I'm boss hyar,"
cried he, after shoving me back with an oath against the cabin skylight,
which I almost tumbled over.  "I'm goin' to hev my meals when I chooses,
I say, younker, an' not when anybody else likes, stooard or no stooard!"

With this return message, I retreated nimbly down the companion, glad to
get out of his reach, he looked so savage when he shoved me; but I had
hardly descended two steps, when he called after me with a loud shout,
that echoed down the passage way and made my flesh creep.

"B'y!" he yelled, making a jump, as if to grab hold of me.  "B'y!"

"Ye-e-e-yes, sir," I stammered, in mortal terror, looking back up the
hatchway, though too frightened to return to nearer quarters with him
again.  "Ye-e-yes, sir."

My alarm amused him.  It was a sort of implied compliment to his
bullying powers; and he laughed harshly, nodding his head.

"What in thunder air ye afeard on?" he said.  "I ain't goin' to kill ye
this time, b'y; it's another cuss I'm after, a kinder sort o' skunk of a
different colour, I guess.  Look hyar, b'y, jest ye make tracks forrud
when ye've told the stooard what I've said, an' see whether thet
tarnation black nigger's asleep in his galley, or what.  Won't I give
him fits when I catch him, thet's all--thaar, be off with ye, smart!"

I did not need any second intimation to go, but plunged down the
companion stairway as if a wild bull was after me; and, telling the
Welshman, Morris Jones, who acted as steward, a poor, cowardly sort of
creature, that the captain did not want his dinner yet, hastened through
the cuddy, and on to the maindeck beyond, coming out by the sliding door
under the break of the poop, which was the `back entrance,' as it were,
to the cabin.

The ship being close-hauled, heeled over so much to leeward that her
port side was almost under water, the waves that broke over the
fo'c's'le running down in a cataract into the waist and forming a
regular river inside the bulwarks, right flush up with the top of the
gunwale, which slushed backwards and forwards as the vessel pitched and
rose again, one moment with her bows in the air, and the next diving her
nose deep down into the rocking seas; so, I had to scramble along
towards the galley on the weather side, holding on to every rope I could
clutch to secure my footing, the deck slanting so much from the _Denver
City_ laying over to the wind, even under the reduced canvas she had
spread.  To add to my difficulties, also, in getting forwards, the
sheets of foam and spindrift were carried along by the fierce gusts--
which came now and again between the lulls, when it blew more steadily,
cutting off the tops of the billows and hurling the spray over the
mainyard--drenched me almost to the skin before I arrived within hail of
the fo'c's'le.

However, I reached the galley all right at last, if dripping; when, as I
looked in over the half-door that barred all admittance to the cook's
domain except to a privileged few, what did I see but Sam Jedfoot
sitting down quite cosily in front of a blazing fire he had made up
under the coppers containing the men's tea, which would be served out
bye and bye at `four bells', enjoying himself as comfortably as you
please, and actually playing the banjo--just as if he had nothing else
to do, and there was no such person as Captain Snaggs in existence!

He had his back turned to me, and so could not notice that I was there,
listening to him as he twanged the strings of the instrument and struck
up that `tink-a-tink a tong-tong' accompaniment familiar to all
acquainted with the Christy Minstrels, the cook also humming away
serenely to himself an old ditty dear to the darkey's heart, and which I
had heard the negroes often sing when I was over in New York, on the
previous voyage I had taken a few months before, to which I have already
alluded--when I ran away to sea, and shipped as a cabin boy on board one
of the Liverpool liners, occupying a similar position to that I now held
in the _Denver City_.

This was the song the cook chaunted, with that sad intonation of voice
for which, somehow or other, the light-hearted African race always seem
to have such a strange predilection.  Sam touching the strings of the
banjo in harmonious chords to a sort of running arpeggio movement:--

  "Oh, down in Alabama, 'fore I wer sot free,
  I lubbed a p'ooty yaller girl, an' fought dat she lubbed me;
  But she am proob unconstant, an' leff me hyar to tell
  How my pore hart am' breakin' fo' croo-el Nancy Bell!"

He wound up with a resounding "twang" at the end of the bar, before
giving the chorus--

  "Den cheer up, Sam!  Don' let yer sperrits go down;
  Dere's many a gal dat I'se know wal am waitin' fur you in
  de town!"

"I fancy you do want cheering up, Sam," said I, waiting till he had
finished the verse.  "The skipper's in a regular tantrum about you, and
says you're to come aft at once."

"My golly, sonny!" cried he, turning round, with a grin on his ebony
face, that showed all his ivories, and looking in no whit alarmed, as I
expected, at the captain's summons, proceeding to reach up one of his
long arms, which were like those of a monkey, and hang the banjo on to a
cleat close to the roof of the galley, out of harm's way.  "What am de
muss about?"

"Because you didn't turn out on deck when all hands were called just now
to reef topsails," I explained.  "The `old man' is in a fine passion, I
can tell you, though he didn't notice your not being there at first.  It
was that mean sneak, the first-mate, that told him, on purpose to get
you into a row."

"Ah-ha!  Jess so, I sabby," said Sam, getting up from his seat; although
he did not look any the taller for standing, being a little man and
having short legs, which, however, were compensated for by his long arms
and broad shoulders, denoting great strength.  "I'se know what dat mean
cuss do it fo'--'cause I wouldn't bring no hot coffee to um cabin fo'
him dis mornin'.  Me tell him dat lazy stoo'ad's place do dat; me ship's
cook, not one black niggah slabe!"

"He's always at me, too," I chorussed, in sympathy with this complaint.
"Mr Flinders is harder on me than even Captain Snaggs, and he's bad
enough, in all conscience."

"Dat am true," replied the cook, who had been my only friend since I had
been on board, none of the others, officers or men, having a kind word
for me, save the carpenter, a sturdy Englishman, named Tom Bullover, and
one of the Yankee sailors, Hiram Bangs, who seemed rather good-natured,
and told me he came from some place `down Chicopee way'--wherever that
might be.  "But, never yer mind, sonny; needer de cap'n nor dat brute ob
a mate ken kill us no nohow."

  "`Cheer up, Sam!  Don' let your 'perrits go down--'

"Guess, dough, I'se better go aft at once, or Cap'n Snaggs 'll bust his
biler!"

And so, humming away still at the refrain of his favourite ditty, he
clambered along the bulwarks, making his way to the poop, where the
captain, I could see, as I peered round the corner of the galley, was
still waiting for him at the top of the ladder on the weather side,
holding on to the brass rail with one hand, and clutching hold of a stay
with the other.

I pitied the negro; but, of course, I couldn't help him.  All I could do
was to look on, by no means an uninterested spectator, though keeping
cautiously out of sight of Captain Snaggs' watchful eye.

The wind was not making such a noise through the shrouds now, for one
could distinguish above its moaning whistle the wash of the waves as
they broke with a rippling roar and splashed against the side like the
measured strokes of a sledge-hammer on the ship breasting them with her
bluff bows, and contemptuously sailing on, spurning them beneath her
fore foot; so, I was able to hear and see nearly all that passed, albeit
I had to strain my ears occasionally to catch a word here and there.

He had waited so long that perhaps his anger had cooled down a bit by
this time, for Captain Snaggs began on Sammy much more quietly than I
expected from his outburst against him when I was up on the poop.

He was quite mild, indeed, for him, as I had learnt already, to my cost,
during the short acquaintance I had of his temper since we had left the
Mersey--as mild as a sucking dove, with a vengeance!

"Ye durned nigger!" he commenced; "what d'ye mean by not answerin' when
I hailed ye?"

"Me no hear yer, mass' cap'n."

"Not haar me, by thunder," screeched the other, raising his voice.  "Ye
aren't deaf, air ye?"

"Golly, yeth, massa," said Sam eagerly.  "I'se def as post."

"Ye ken haar, though, when grog time comes round, I guess!" retorted the
captain.  "Whar wer ye when `all hands' wer called jest now?"

"Down in de bread room, gettin' out de men's grub wid de stooard,"
answered the cook, with much coolness; "me no hear `all hands' call."

"Thet's a lie," said Captain Snaggs, furiously.  "The stooard wer up
hyar on deck, so ye couldn't hev been down below with him, ye durned
nigger!  I've a tarnation good mind to seize ye up an' give ye four
dozen right away."

"Me no niggah slabe," said Sam proudly, drawing himself up and looking
up at the captain, as if daring him to do his worst.  "I'se one
'spectacle culled gen'leman, sah!"

"Ho! ho! thet's prime!" laughed out the skipper, astounded at his cheek;
while the first-mate sniggered his aggravating "he! he!" behind him.
"Oh, ye're `a 'spectable coloured gentleman,' air ye?"

"Yeth, massa; me free Jamaica born, an' no slabe," repeated Sam,
courageously, the first-mate's chuckle having put him on his mettle more
than the captain's sneer.  "I'se a free man!"

"Guess ye've come to the wrong shop then, my bo," said Captain Snaggs;
"ye'll find ye ain't free hyar, fur I'm boss aboard this air ship, an'
want all hands to know it.  Ye shipped as cook, hey?"

"Yeth, massa," replied Sam, as sturdily as ever.  "I'se jine as cook fo'
de v'yage to 'Frisco at ten dollar de month."

"Then, Master Sam, Sammy, Sambo Clubfoot, ye'll be kinder good enuff to
take yer traps out of the galley an' go furrud into the fo'c's'le, as
one of the foremast hands.  As ye wouldn't turn out when all hands wer
called jist now, ye'll hev the advantage of doin' so right through now,
watch in an' watch out all the v'yage!  D'ye hear thet, Sam Clubfoot?"

"Dat not my name," said the other indignantly.  "I'se chris'en Sam
Jedfoot."

"Well then, d'ye underconstubble what I've sed, Mister Jedfoot, if ye
like thet better--thet ye're cook no longer, an' will hev to muster with
the rest of the crew in the port watch?  I'll put him with ye, Flinders,
I know ye hev a hankerin' arter him," observed the skipper, in a stage
whisper, to the first-mate, who sniggered his approval of this
arrangement.  "D'ye understand thet, ye durned nigger, or, hev yer ears
got frizzed agen, makin' ye feel kinder deaf?"

"I'se he-ah, cap'n," replied Sam sullenly, as he turned away from under
the break of the poop, and made his way forward again to where I stood
watching his now changed face, all the mirth and merriment having gone
out of it, making him look quite savage--an ugly customer, I thought,
for any one to tackle with whom he might have enmity.  "I'se he-ah fo'
suah, an' won't forget neider, yer bet!"



CHAPTER THREE.

A TERRIBLE REVENGE.

"I'm very sorry for you, Sam," I said, when he came up again to the
galley, making his way forward much more slowly than he had scrambled
aft to interview the skipper.  "Captain Snaggs is a regular tyrant to
treat you so; but, never mind, Sam, we'll soon have you back in your old
place here, for I don't think there's any fellow in the ship that knows
anything about cooking like you!"

"Dunno spec dere's am," he replied, disconsolately, speaking in a
melancholy tone of voice, as if overcome at the idea of surrendering his
regal post of king of the caboose--the cook's berth on board a merchant
vessel being one of authority, as well as having a good deal of licence
attached to it; besides giving the holder thereof an importance in the
eyes of the crew, only second to that of the skipper, or his deputy, the
first-mate.  The next moment, however, the darkey's face brightened,
from some happy thought or other that apparently crossed his mind; and,
his month gradually opening with a broad grin, that displayed a double
row of beautifully even white teeth, which would have aroused the envy
of a fashionable dentist, he broke into a huge guffaw, that I was almost
afraid the captain would hear away aft on the poop.

"Hoo-hoo!  Yah-yah!" he laughed, with all that hearty abandon of his
race, bending his body and slapping his hands to his shins, as if to
hold himself up.  "Golly! me nebber fought ob dat afore!  Hoo-hoo!
Yah-yah!  I'se most ready to die wid laffin!  Hoo-hoo!"

"Why, Sam," I cried, "what's the matter now?"

"Hoo-hoo!  Cholly," he at last managed to get out between his convulsive
fits of laughter.  "Yer jess wait till cap'n want um grub; an' den--
hoo-hoo!--yer see one fine joke!  My gosh!  Cholly, I'se one big fool
not tink ob dat afore!  Guess it'll do prime.  Yah-yah!  Won't de `ole
man' squirm!  Hoo-hoo!"

"Oh, Sam!"  I exclaimed, a horrid thought occurring to me all at once.
"You wouldn't poison him?"

The little negro drew himself up with a native sort of dignity, that
made him appear quite tall.

"I'se hab black 'kin, an no white like yer's, Cholly," said he gravely,
wiping away the tears that had run down his cheeks in the exuberance of
his recent merriment.  "But, b'y, yer may beleeb de troot, dat if I'se
hab black 'kin, my hart ain't ob dat colour; an' I wouldn't pizen no
man, if he wer de debbel hisself.  No, Cholly, I'se fight fair, an'
dunno wish to go behint no man's back!"

"I'm sure I beg your pardon," said I, seeing that I had insulted him by
my suspicion; "but what are you going to do to pay the skipper out?"

This set him off again with a fresh paroxysm of laughter.

"My golly!  Hoo-hoo!  I'se goin' hab one fine joke," he spluttered out,
his face seemingly all mouth, and his woolly hair crinkling, as if
electrified by his inward feelings.  "I'se goin'--hoo-hoo!--I'se goin'--
yah-yah!--"

But, what he was about to tell me remained for the present a mystery;
for, just then, the squalls ceasing and the wind shifting to the
northward of west, the captain ordered the lee braces to be slacked off,
and we hauled round more to starboard, still keeping on the same tack,
though.  Our course now was pretty nearly south-west by south, and thus,
instead of barely just weathering the Smalls, as we should only have
been able to do if it had kept on blowing from the same quarter right in
our teeth, we managed to give the Pembrokeshire coast a good wide berth,
keeping into the open seaway right across the entrance to the Bristol
Channel, the ship heading towards Scilly well out from the land.

She made better weather, too, not rolling or pitching so much, going a
bit free, as she did when close-hauled, the wind drawing more abeam as
it veered north; and Captain Snaggs was not the last to notice this, you
may be sure.  He thought he might just as well take advantage of it, as
not being one of your soft-hearted sailors, but a `beggar to carry on
when he had the chance,' at least, so said Hiram Bangs, who had sailed
with him before.

No sooner, therefore, were the yards braced round than he roared out
again to the watch, keeping them busy on their legs--

"Hands, make sail!"

"Let go y'r tops'l halliards!"

"Away aloft thaar, men!" he cried, when the yards came down on the caps;
"lay out sharp and shake out them reefs!"

Then, it was all hoist away with the halliards and belay, the mainsail
being set again shortly afterwards and the jib rehoisted, with the
foretopmast staysail stowed and the reef let out of the foresail.

Later on, the top-gallants were set, as well as the spanker; and the
_Denver City_, under a good spread of canvas, began to show us how she
could go through the water on a bowline; for, the sea having gone down a
bit, besides running the same way we were going, she did not take in so
much wet nor heel over half so much as she did an hour before, when
beating to windward, while every stitch she had on drew, sending her
along a good eight knots or more, with a wake behind her like a mill
race.

During the commotion that ensued when we were bracing the yards and
letting out reefs and setting more sail, I had lost sight of Sam
Jedfoot, the men bustling about so much forward that I retreated under
the break of the poop, out of their way; but, from here, I noticed that
Sam made himself very busy when the clew-garnet blocks were hauled aft,
on the mainsail being dropped, his powerful arms being as good as any
two men tailed on to a rope, for there was "plenty of beef" in him, if
he were not up to much in the matter of size.

After the bustle, however, I was called in to the cabin by the steward,
to help wait at table, as the captain had come down to dinner at last,
now that everything was going well with the ship and we were fairly out
at sea, the first-mate accompanying him, while Jan Steenbock was left in
charge of the deck, with strict orders to keep the same course, west
sou'-west, and call Captain Snaggs if any change should take place in
the wind.

"I guess the stoopid cuss can't make no durned mistake about thet," I
heard the captain say to Mr Flinders, as he came down the companion
hatchway, rubbing his hands, as if in anticipation of his dinner; "an',
by thunder, I dew feel all powerful hungry!"

"So do I, sir," chimed in the first-mate.  "I hope the stooard hez
somethin' good for us to eat.  I feels raal peckish, I dew!"

"Hope ye ain't too partick'ler," rejoined Captain Snaggs; "fur this 'll
be the last dinner thet air conceited darkey, Sam, 'll cook fur ye,
Flinders.  He goes in the fo'c's'le to-morrow, an' this hyar lout of a
stooard shall take his place in the galley."

"`Changey for changey, black dog for white monkey,'" observed the
first-mate with a snigger.  "Eh, cap?"

"Ye've hit it, Flinders, I reckon," said the other; and, as he gave a
look round the cabin before taking his seat, which the Welsh steward
stood behind obsequiously, although he could not draw it out, as it was
lashed down to the deck and a fixture, the captain added: "Ye'd better
see about gettin' the deadlights up to them stern ports, Flinders, afore
nightfall.  They look kinder shaky, an' if a followin' sea shu'd catch
us astern, we'd be all swamped in hyar, I guess."

"Aye, aye, sir!" said the first-mate, seating himself, too; that is, as
soon as he noticed that the steward, who had instantly rushed forward to
the galley for the dinner, which was keeping hot there, had returned
with a smoking dish, which he placed in front of the captain,
dexterously removing the cover almost at the same instant--"I'll see to
it the first thing when I go on deck again."

"An', Flinders," continued Captain Snaggs, ladling out a good portion of
the contents of the dish into a plate, which the steward passed on to
the first-mate, "I see a rope's-end hangin' down thaar, too, like a
bight of the signal halliards or the boom-sheet, which some lubber hez
let tow overboard.  Hev it made fast an' shipshape.  I hate slovenliness
like pizen!"

"So do I, sir, you bet," answered the mate, with his mouth full.  "I'll
watch it when I go on the poop agen; but, ain't this fowl an' rice jest
galumptious, cap?"

"Pretty so so," said Captain Snaggs, who seemed somewhat critical, in
spite of his assertion of being ravenous and `a reg'ler whale on
poultry,' as he had observed when Jones took off the dish cover.
"Strikes me, thaar's a rum sort o' taste about it thet ain't quite
fowlish!"

"M-yum, m-yum; I dew taste somethin' bitterish," agreed Mr Flinders,
smacking his lips and deliberating apparently over the flavour of the
fowl; "p'raps the critter's gall bladder got busted--hey?"

"P'raps so, Flinders," rejoined the skipper; "but I hope thet durned
nigger hasn't be'n meddlin' with it!  Them darkeys air awful vengeful,
an' when I hed him up jist now, an' told him he'd hev ter go forrud, I
heard him mutter sunthin' about `not forgettin''--guess I did, so."

Captain Snaggs looked so solemn as he said this, with his face bent down
into his plate to examine what was on it the more closely, and his
billy-goat beard almost touching the gravy, that I had to cough to
prevent myself from laughing; for, I was standing just by him, handing
round a dish of potatoes at the time.

"Hillo!" he exclaimed, looking up and staring at me so that I flushed up
as red as a turkey cock, "what's the matter with ye, b'y?"

"N-n-nothing, sir," I stammered.  "I--I couldn't help it, sir; I have
got a sort of tickling in my throat."

"Guess a ticklin' on yer back would kinder teach ye better manners when
ye're a-waitin' at table," he said, grimly.  "Go an' tell the stooard to
fetch the rum bottle out of my bunk, with a couple of tumblers, an' then
ye can claar out right away.  I don't want no b'ys a-hangin' round when
I'm feedin'!"

Glad enough was I at thus getting my dismissal without any further
questioning; and, after giving Jones the captain's message, I went out
from the pantry on to the maindeck, and so forward to the galley, where
I expected to find Sam.

He wasn't there, however; but, hearing his voice on the fo'c's'le, I
looked up, and saw him there, in the centre of a little knot of men,
consisting of Tom Bullover, the carpenter, Hiram Bangs, and another
sailor, to whom, as I quickly learnt from a stray word here and there,
the darkey cook was laying down the law anent the skipper and his
doings.

"De ole man's a hard row to hoe, yer bet," I heard him say, "but he
don't get over dis chile nohow!  I'se heer tell ob him afore I ship't as
how he wer the hardest cap'n as sailed out ob Libberpool."

"Then, why did you jine?" asked Hiram Bangs; "good cooks ain't so common
as you couldn't git another vessel."

"Why did yer jine, Mass' Hiram, sin' yer sailed wid him afore, an'
knowed he was de bery debble?"

"'Cause I wants ter go to 'Frisco," replied the other; "an', 'sides, I
ain't afeared of the old skunk.  He's more jaw nor actin', an' a good
sailor, too, an' no mistake, spite of his bad temper an' hard words."

"Golly, Hiram, nor ain't I'se funky ob him, neider!  My fader in Jamaiky
he one big fetish man; an' I not 'fraid ob Captain Snaggs, or de debbel,
or any odder man; an' I wants ter go ter 'Frisco, too, an' dat's de
reason I'se hyar."

Presently, when I had the chance of speaking to him, I told him of the
captain's suspicions; but he only laughed when I begged him to tell me
if he had put anything into the cabin dinner, and what it was.

"Yah-yah, sonny!  I'se tole yer so, I'se tole yer so--hoo-hoo!" he
cried, doubling himself up and yelling with mirth.  "I'se tole yer,
`jess wait till bymeby, an' yer see one big joke;' but, chile, yer'd
better not know nuffin 'bout it; fo', den yer ken tell de troot if de
cap'n ax, an' say yer knows nuffin."

This was no doubt sound advice; still, it did not satisfy my curiosity,
and I was rather indignant at his not confiding in me.  Of course, I was
not going to tell the captain or anybody, for I wasn't a sneak, at all
events, if I was only a cabin boy!

Vexed at his not confiding in me, I turned to look over the side at the
scene around.

The sun had not long set, and a bit of the afterglow yet lingered over
the western horizon, warming up that portion of the sky; but, above,
although the leaden clouds had all disappeared, being driven away to
leeward long since, the shades of evening were gradually creeping up,
and the sea and everything was covered with a purple haze, save where
the racing waves rushed over each other in a mass of seething foam, that
scintillated out coruscations of light--little oases of brightness in
the desert of the deep.

As for the ship, she was a beauty, and sailed on, behaving like a
clipper, rising and falling with a gentle rocking motion, when she met
and passed the rollers that she overtook in her course, as they raced
before her, trying to outvie her speed, and tossing up a shower of spray
occasionally over her weather bow, which the fading gleams of crimson
and gold of the sunset touched up and turned into so many little
rainbows, that hovered over the water in front for a moment and then
disappeared, as the vessel crushed them out of life with her cutwater.

The wind still whistled through the rigging, but, now, it was more like
the musical sound of an Aeolian harp, whose chords vibrated rhythmically
with the breeze; while the big sails bellying out from the yards above
emitted a gentle hum, as that of bees in the distance, from the rushing
air that expanded their folds, which, coupled with the wash and `Break,
break, break!' of the sea, sounded like a sad lullaby.

All was quietness on deck: some of the late hands having their tea
below, where one or two had already turned in to gain a few winks of
sleep before being called on duty to keep the first watch.  Others
again, as I've already said, where chatting and yarning on the
fo'c's'le, as sailors love to chat and yarn of an evening, when the ship
is sailing free with a fair wind, and there's nothing much doing, save
to mind the helm and take an occasional pull at the braces to keep her
"full and by."

All was quiet; but, not for long!

It was just beginning to grow dark, although still light enough to see
everything that was going on fore and aft, when Captain Snaggs staggered
out from the cuddy, coming through the doorway underneath the break of
the poop, and not going up the companion hatch, as was his usual habit
when he came out on deck.

He looked as if he had been drinking pretty heavily from the bottle of
rum the steward had brought in as I left the cabin, an impression which
his thick speech confirmed, when, after fetching up against the mainmast
bitts, in a vain attempt to work to windward and reach the poop ladder,
he began to roar out my name.

"B'y!  I wants thet b'y, Chawley Hills!  Hillo, Chaw-ley!  Chawley
Hills!--Hills!--Hills!  On deck thaar!  Where are ye?  By thunder!  I'll
spif-spif-splicate ye, b'y, when I catch ye!  Come hyar!"

I was rather terrified at this summons, the more especially from his
being drunk, but, I went all the same towards him.

He clutched hold of me the moment I came near.

"Ye d-d-durned young reptile!" he roared, more soberly than he had
spoken before; and, from a sort of agonised look in his face, I could
see that something more than mere drink affected him, for I had noticed
him before under the influence of intoxicating liquors.  "Tell me wha-at
thet infarnal nigger put into the grub?  Ye know ye knows all about it,
fur ye looked guilty when the mate an' I wer talkin' about it at table;
an' he's been pizened, an' so am I; an' he sez ye knows all about it,
an' so does I; an' what is more, b'y, I'll squeeze the life out of ye if
yer don't tell!"

"Oh, please, sir," I cried out; as well as the pressure of his hands on
my throat would permit, "I don't know.  I don't know anything."

"Cuss ye, b'y.  Ye dew know; an', if chokin' won't get it out of ye,
we'll try what larrupin' will do!"

So saying, he ordered a couple of the hands standing by to seize me up
to the weather rigging; and taking hold of a thick piece of rope, which
he had brought with him out of the cabin, he proceeded to deliver blows
about my back and shoulders that made me howl again, the strokes seeming
to tear the flesh from my bones.

"Won't ye tell, hey?" he exclaimed between each stroke of the improvised
cat, which lashed as well, I can answer, as if it had nine tails; "won't
ye tell, hey?"

At the third stroke, however, he himself fell upon the deck, putting his
hands to his stomach and rolling about doubled up almost in two in his
agony; although, when the paroxysm of pain had ceased for the moment, he
got up on his feet once more and began lashing away at me again.

But, my deliverer was at hand.

Just as he raised his arm to deliver a fourth stripe across my back, and
I shrank back in expectation of it, I heard Sam Jedfoot's voice,--

"'Top dat, massa cap?" he called out.  "What fur yer lick dat b'y fur?"

"Oh, it's ye, is it?" roared the skipper, turning on him with a snarl.
"I wer comin' fur ye presently, ye durned cuss!  But, ez ye air hyar,
why, ye scoundrel, what did ye make thet b'y do to the dinner?  Me an'
the mate is both pizened."

"De b'y didn't do nuffin, an' yer ain't pizened, nor Mass' Flinders,
neider," said Sam calmly, interrupting the captain before he could
scream out another word; "I'se dun it alone.  I'se put jalap in the fowl
a puppose!"

"Ye did, did ye!" yelled the captain fiercely; and there was a savage
vindictiveness in his voice that I had not noticed previously, as he
turned round to address the second-mate and a number of the men, who had
gathered round at the noise made by the altercation, those that had
turned in turning out, and even the look-out coming from off the
fo'c's'le away aft to see what was going on.  "Men, ye've heard this
tarnation villain confess thet he's tried to pizen Mr Flinders an'
myself.  Now ye'll see me punish him!"

With these words, which he spoke quite calmly, without a trace of
passion, he drew out a revolver from the pocket of his jacket, cocking
it with a click that struck a cold chill to my heart, and made me
shudder more convulsively than even the brute's lashes had done the
moment before.

"Bress de Lor'! don' shoot me, cap'n!" cried poor Sam, edging away from
the fatal weapon, as Captain Snaggs raised it; "don't shoot, fo' de
Lor's sake!"

"I'm going to kill ye like a dog!" rejoined the other, taking aim; but
Sam, quick as lightning darted into the weather rigging, making his way
forward along the channels, the captain jumping after him and
repeating,--"It's no use.  Ye won't escape me, I tell ye, darkey; ye
won't escape me!  I'll kill ye ez dead ez a dog!  Like a dog, d'ye
haar?"

As he uttered the last words a second time, as if the repetition of the
phrase pleased his cruel ear, there was another `click,' followed by a
bright flash and a sharp report; and then, uttering a wild, despairing
cry, which was echoed by the men standing around, poor Sam dropped into
the sea alongside, his body splashing up the water right inboard into my
face as it fell!



CHAPTER FOUR.

FRIGHTENED TO DEATH!

"That's murder--murder in cold blood!"

The voice uttering this exclamation, which I at once recognised as that
of Tom Bullover, the carpenter, came from amidst a mass of the men, who,
attracted by the noise of the row, had gathered from forward, and were
clustered together--as I could see sideways from my position there,
spread-eagled in the rigging.  They were standing by the long-boat, just
abaft of poor Sam Jedfoot's now tenantless galley, and immediately under
the bellying folds of the mainsail, that rustled and swelled out over
their heads, tugging at the boltropes and rattling the clew-garnet
blocks, as it was jerked by the wind, which ever and anon blew with
eddying gusts as it veered and shifted.

"Who's the mutinous rascal thet spoke then?" cried Captain Snaggs,
wheeling round on the instant, quick as lightning, and cocking his
revolver with another ominous click, as he faced the group, aiming at
the nearest man to him.  "Jest ye give me another word of yer jaw, an'
I'll sarve ye the same as I sarved thet durned nigger--I will so, by
thunder!"

A hoarse murmur, partly of rage and partly expressive of fear, arose
from the crew as they shuffled uneasily about the deck, one trying to
get behind another; but neither Tom Bullover nor anyone else stepped out
to answer the captain, who, seeing that he had cowed them, lowered his
awkward looking weapon.

"Ye're a pack of durned skallywags, with nary a one the pluck of a skunk
in the lot!" he exclaimed contemptuously, in his snarling Yankee voice;
but, just then, the head sails flapping, from the helmsman letting the
ship nearly broach to, forgetting to attend to his duties in his
eagerness to hear all that was going on, the captain's wrath was
directed towards those aft, and he wheeled round and swore at the
second-mate, who was on the poop, leaning over the rail, bawling out
louder than before:--"What the infernal dickens are ye about thaar,
Mister Steenbock?  Snakes an' alligators! why, ye'll have us all aback
in another minute!  Ease her off, ease her off gently; an' hev thet
lubber at the wheel relieved; d'ye haar?  Ha ain't worth a cuss!  Get a
man thet ken steer in his place.  Jerusalem!  Up with the helm at once!"

Fortunately, the jib only gybed, while the fore-topsail slatted a bit
against the mast; and all the other sails remaining full and drawing, a
slight shift of the helm sufficed to put the ship on her proper course.
Still, the captain, now his blood was up, could not afford to lose such
a good opportunity both for rating the second-mate for his carelessness
in conning the ship and not making the helmsman keep her steady on her
course, and also in giving a little extra work to the hands who had
dared to murmur at his fearful vengeance on the cook for drugging his
food.  So he made them bustle about the deck in style, slacking off the
lee braces and hauling upon these on the weather side, until we had
brought the wind almost over the stern, with the yards pretty nearly
square.  We were now running before it, rolling from port to starboard
and back again from starboard to port, almost gunwales under, with the
sail we had on us now, for it was blowing a good ten-knot breeze from
the nor'-nor'-west, the breeze having shifted again since sunset, right
astern, instead of being dead ahead, as previously, of our proper tract
for the open sea.

When Captain Snaggs had seen everything braced round, and the boom-sheet
of the spanker likewise eased off, he turned to where I was still lashed
up against the main shrouds, in dread expectancy every moment of his
renewing the thrashing he had commenced, and which poor Sam's plucky
intervention on my behalf had for the time interrupted.

"Well, ye young cuss!" said the skipper, who had been giving all his
orders from the lower deck, which he had not left since he had rolled
out from the cuddy under the poop in the paroxysm of passion and pain
that led to such a dread catastrophe--all that had happened, although it
takes a long time to describe, having occurred within a very brief
interval of his first outburst on me.  "What hev ye got to say for
y'rself thet I shouldn't give ye a thunderin' hidin', sich ez I hanker
arter, hey?  I'm jiggered, too, if I don't, ye young whelp!  Fur I guess
ye wer kinder in truck with thet durned nigger when he tried to pizen me
an' Mister Flinders.  I'll skin ye alive, though ye aren't bigger nor a
spritsail sheet knot, my joker, fur ye hevn't got half enuff yet, I
reckon!"

So saying, he picked up the rope's-end that he had dropped when he took
out his revolver, and was evidently about to lay it on my poor trembling
back again, when another groan came from the men forward, who still hung
about the windlass bitts, instead of going below after squaring the
yards.  Tom Bullover's voice, I could hear, again taking the lead, as
they advanced in a body aft, in a much more demonstrative manner than
previously.

"Stow that now, and leave the boy alone," I heard him say.  "You've
wallopped him already; and there's been enough murder done in the ship!"

Captain Snaggs let fall the cat he had taken in his hand to thrash me
with, and once more pulled out from his pocket the revolver; but, in the
half-light that lingered now after the sunset glow had faded out of the
sky, I noticed, as I screwed my neck round, looking to see what he was
doing, that his hand trembled.  The next moment he dropped the revolver
on the deck as he had done the rope's-end.

"Who's talkin' of murder?  Thet's an ugly word," he stammered out,
evidently frightened at the result of his rage against poor Sam, and the
way in which the crew regarded it.  "I--I only shot thet nigger because
he pizened me an' the first-mate."

"You should have put hims in ze irons," interposed the second-mate, Jan
Steenbock, speaking in his deep, solemn tones from the poop above.  "Ze
mans vas murdert in ze cold blood!"

I could see Captain Snaggs shiver--all his coarse, bullying manner and
braggadocio deserting him, as Jan Steenbock's accents rang through the
ship, like those of an accusing judge; the index finger of the
second-mate's right hand pointing at him, as he leant over the poop
rail, like the finger of Fate!

"I did not mean to shoot the coon like to kill him, I only meant to
kinder frighten the life out of him, thet's all," he began, in an
exculpatory tone, regaining his usual confidence as he proceeded.  "The
durned cuss brought it on hisself, I reckon; fur, if he hedn't climb'd
into the riggin' he wouldn't hev dropped overboard!"

"But, you vas shoot him ze first," said Jan Steenbock, in reply to this,
the men on the other side of the captain giving a murmuring assent to
the accusation, "you vas shoot him ze first!"

"Aye, thet's so; but I didn't mean fur to hit him, only to skear him.
Guess I don't think I did, fur the ship rolled as I fired, an' the
bullet must hev gone over his woolly head, an' he let go from sheer
frit!"

"Dat might be," answered the second-mate, whom the men left to do all
the talking; "but ze--"

"Besides," continued the captain, interrupting him, and seeing he had
gained a point, "the darkey pizened my grub.  He sea he put jalap in it.
Ye heerd him say so y'rselves, didn't ye?"

"Aye, aye," chorussed the group of men in front of him, with true
sailor's justice, "we did.  We heard him say so."

"Well, then," argued Captain Snaggs, triumphantly, "ye knows what a
delicate matter it is fur to meddle with a chap's grub; ye wouldn't like
it y'rselves?"

"No," came from the men unanimously, "we wouldn't."

"All right, then; I see ye're with me," said the skipper, wagging his
beard about as he lay down the law.  "I confess I didn't like it.  The
nigger sed he hocussed our grub; but seeing ez how I an' the first-mate
wer took so bad, I believed he'd pizened us, an' it rizzed my dander,
an' so I went fur him."

"Aye, aye," sang out the men, as if endorsing this free and rather
one-sided version of the affair, Hiram Bangs the captain's countryman,
chiming in with a "Right you air, boss!"

"But you need not have shoot hims," insisted Jan Steenbock, perceiving
that the skipper was getting the men to take a more lenient view of the
transaction than he did.  "Ze mans not go avays.  You could put hims in
ze irons!"

"So I could, me joker; though I can't see ez how it's yer place to top
the officer over me, Mister Steenbock," retorted the skipper, with some
of his old heat.  "Ye've hed yer say, an' the men hev hed their'n; an'
now I'll hev mine, I reckon!  The nigger wer in fault in the fust place,
an' I'm sorry I wer tew hard on him; but, now he's gone overboard,
thaar's nuthin' more to be done, fur all the talkin' in the world won't
bring him back agen!  I'll tell ye what I'll do, though."

"What?" shouted out Tom Bullover.  "What will you do?"

Captain Snaggs recognised his voice now, in spite of its being nearly
dark, and he uttered an expressive sort of snorting grunt.

"Ha! ye're the coon, are ye, thet cried murder, hey?"  I heard him
mutter under his breath menacingly; and then, speaking out louder he
said, that all could hear, "I tell ye what I'll do: I am willin' to go
ashore at the first available port we ken stop at an' lay the whole of
the circumstances before the British or American consul, an' take the
consequences--fur you all ken give evidence against me if ye like!  I
can't say fairer nor thet men, can I?"

"No, cap," they chorussed, as if perfectly satisfied with this promise,
"nothing can be fairer nor that!"

"All right; thet 'll do, the watch, then."

"But, thet b'y thaar?" called out Hiram Bangs, as they were all
shuffling forward again, now that the palaver was over and the subject
thoroughly discussed, as they thought, in all its bearings; "yer won't
leather him no more?  The little cuss warn't to blame; the nigger said
so, hisself!"

"No, I won't thrash him agen, since he's a friend o' yer's," replied the
skipper, jocularly, evidently glad that the affair was now hushed up.
"Ye ken cut him down if ye like, an' take him forrud with ye."

"Right ye air, cap, so we will," said Hiram, producing his clasp knife
in a jiffey and severing the lashings that bound me to the rigging,
"Come along, Cholly; an' we'll warm ye up in the fo'c's'le arter yer
warmin' up aft from the skipper!"

The hands responded with a laugh to this witticism, apparently
forgetting all about the terrible scene that had so lately taken place,
as they escorted me in triumph towards the fore part of the ship; while
the captain went up on the poop and relieved Jan Steenbock, speaking to
him very surlily, and telling him to go down into the cabin and see what
had become of the first-mate, Mr Flinders, and if he was any better,
and fit to come on duty.  As for himself, he had now quite recovered
from the effects of whatever the unfortunate cook had put into the stew
he had eaten, and which had alarmed him with the fear of being poisoned.

I, however, could not so readily put the fearful scene I had been such
an unwilling witness of so quickly out of my remembrance; and, as I went
forward with the kind-hearted but thoughtless fellows who had saved me
from a further thrashing, I felt quite sick with horror.  A dread
weight, as of something more horrible still, that was about to happen,
filled my mind.

Nor did the conversation I heard in the fo'c's'le tend to soothe my
startled nerves and make me feel more comfortable.

The men's tea was still in the coppers, poor Sam having made up a great
fire in the galley before going off on his last journey, and this was
now served out piping hot all round, the men helping themselves, for no
one had yet been elected to fill the darkey's vacant place.  No one,
indeed, seemed anxious to remain longer than could be helped within the
precincts of the cook's domain, each man hurrying out again from the old
caboose as quickly as he filled his pannikin from the bubbling coppers
with the decoction of sloe leaves, molasses and water, which, when duly
boiled together does duty with sailor-folk for tea!

Then--sitting round the fo'c's'le, some on the edge of the
hatch-coaming, some dangling their legs over the windlass bitts, and
others bringing themselves to an anchor on a coil of the bower hawser,
that had not been stowed away properly below, but remained lumbering the
deck--all began to yarn about the events of the day.  Their talk
gradually veered round to a superstitious turn on the second dog-watch
drawing to a close; and, as the shades of night deepened over our heads,
so that I could hardly now distinguish a face in the gloom, the voices
of the men sank down imperceptibly to a mere whisper, thus making what
they said sound more weird and mysterious, all in keeping with the scene
and its surroundings.

Of course, Sam formed the principal subject of their theme; and, after
speaking of what a capital cook and good chum he was, `fur a darkey,' as
Hiram Bangs put it, having some scruples on the subject of colour, from
being an American, Tom Bullover alluded to the negro's skill at the
banjo.

"Aye, bo, he could give us a toon when he liked, fur he wer mighty
powerful a-fingerin' them strings.  He made the durned thing a'most
speak, I reckon," observed Hiram Bangs; adding reflectively,--"An' the
curiousest thing about him wer thet he wer the only nigger I ever come
athwart of ez warn't afeard of sperrits."

"Sperrits, Hiram?" interposed one of the other hands; "what does you
mean?--ghostesses?"

"Aye.  Sam sed as how his father, a darkey too, in course, wer a fetish
man; an' I rec'l'ects when I wer to hum, down Chicopee way, ther' wer an
ole nigger thaar thet usest to say thet same, an' the ole cuss wud go of
a night into the graveyard, which wer more'n nary a white man would ha'
done, ye bet!"

"You wouldn't catch me at it," agreed another sailor, giving himself a
shake, that sent a cold shiver through me in sympathy.  "I'd face any
danger in daylight that a Christian ain't afeard on; but, as for huntin'
for ghostesses in a churchyard of a dark night, not for me!"

"Aye, nor me," put in another.  "I shouldn't like old Sammy to come back
and haunt the galley, as I've heard tell me.  By jingo!  I wouldn't like
to go into it now that it's dark, arter the way the poor beggar got shot
an' drownded--leastways, not without a light, or a lantern, or somethin'
or t'other; for, they sez of folks that come by any onnateral sort o'
death, that their sperrits can't rest quiet, and that then they goes
back to where they was murdered, and you ken see 'em wanderin' around
twixt midnight an' mornin', though they wanishes agen at the first
streak of daylight."

"I've heerd tell the same," chimed in Hiram Bangs, in a sepulchral
voice, that made my heart go down to my toes; "but Sam, he usest to say,
sez he, ez how none o' them sperrits could never touch he, cos he hed a
charm agen 'em 'cause of his father bein' jest in the ring, an' one of
the same sorter cusses--his `fadder' he called him, poor old darkey!
Sam told me now, only last night ez never was, how he'd of'en in Jamaiky
talked with ghostesses, thet would come an' tote round his plantation!
He sed, sez he, ez how he'd got a spell to call 'em by whenever he
liked; thet's what he told me, by thunder!"

"Aye, bo," said Tom Bullover; "and, before poor Sam went aft this very
evening, I heard him tell this younker, Charlie Hills, how thet he
weren't afraid of that brute of a bullying skipper, and if he came by
any harm he'd haunt him--didn't he, Charlie?"

"Ye-es," I replied, trembling, feeling horribly frightened now with all
their queer talk, coming after what I had gone through before; "but, I
didn't hear him say anything of haunting the ship.  I'm awfully sorry
for him, Tom; but I hope he won't come back again, as Hiram Bangs says."

"He will, ye bet yer bottom dollar on thet, Cholly, if he ain't made
comfable down below in Davy Jones' locker, whar the poor old cuss air
now," said the American sailor in his deep voice, increasing my
superstitious fears by the very way in which he spoke.  "Guess I
wouldn't mind shakin' fins with the nigger agen if he'd come aboard in
daylight, but I'm durned if I'd like to see him hyar 'fore mornin'!  I'd
feel kinder skeart if I did, b'y, I reckon."

I had no time to reply; for, the captain's voice hailing us from the
poop at the moment made us all jump--I, for one, believing that it was
Sam Jedfoot already come back to life, or his ghost!

The next instant, however, I was reassured by a hoarse chuckle passing
round amongst the men; while Hiram Bangs called out, "I'm jiggered,
messmates, if it ain't the old man up on deck agen!"

Like him, I then caught the sound of Captain Snaggs' nasal twang,
although he spoke rather thickly, as if he had been drinking again.

"Fo'c's'le, ahoy!" he shouted; "wake up thaar an' show a leg!  Let one
of the hands strike eight bells, an' come aft, all ye starbow-lines, to
take the first watch."

"Aye, aye, sir!" answered Tom Bullover, leading the way towards the
skipper; while Hiram Bangs seized hold of the rope attached to the
clapper of the bell, hanging under the break of the fo'c's'le, and
struck the hour, then following in Tom's footsteps with a "Here I am,
sonny, arter ye!"

I did not remain behind, you may be sure, not caring to stop in the
vicinity of Sam's galley after all that talk about him.  Besides this, I
felt tired out, and my bunk being on a locker outside the steward's
pantry, and just within the door leading into the cuddy under the poop,
I was anxious to sneak in there without being seen again by the captain,
so as to have a lie down, or `turn in'--if it can be called turning in,
with all my clothes on, ready to turn out at a minute's notice!

I managed to get inside, luckily unperceived by the skipper's eagle eye
and was furthermore assured of a quiet `caulk' by hearing him sing out
presently to the steward to bring him up some grog, as he was going to
remain on deck till the middle watch.  I knew from this that I would be
undisturbed by his coming below for a good four hours' spell at least;
and I soon sank off to sleep, the last thing that I heard being the
tramping about on deck of the men when Captain Snaggs roared out some
order about making more sail, and the sluicing of the water washing from
side to side, as the _Denver City_ rolled and pitched, staggering along
under a cloud of canvas, with everything set now, right before the wind.

The next thing I heard was a heavy crash of glass, and I woke up just in
time to catch the tail end of a combing wave, that dashed in through one
of the stern ports, washing the cabin fore and aft.  The ship had
evidently been pooped by a heavy following sea, that travelled through
the water faster than she did before the stiff northward breeze,
although we were carrying on, too, at a good rate, as I've said.

Aroused by this, I scrambled to my feet, and recognised Captain Snaggs'
voice coming down the companion way; but I did not fear his seeing me,
as the swinging lamp over the cuddy table had been put out, and all was
in darkness below, save when a sudden bright gleam from the moon, which
had risen since I had sought my bunk, shot down through the skylight as
the ship rolled over to port--making it all the darker again as she
listed to starboard, for her next roll the reverse way necessarily shut
out the moonlight again.

Captain Snaggs, I could hear, was not only very drunk, but, as usual, in
a very bad temper, as he stumbled about the foot of the companion way in
the water that washed about the cabin door.

"Durn thet fool of a Flinders--hic!" he exclaimed, steadying himself
before making a plunge towards his berth, which was on the left, as I
knew from the sound of his voice in the distance.  "I t-t-t-old him them
ports would git stove in, an'--an'--order'd him to fix the deadlights;
but the durned fool ain't done nary a thing, an' there ye air,
streenger, thaar ye air!"

He then staggered a bit and flopped about the water; and then, all at
once, as I listened, he gave vent to a queer gurgling cry of horror,
that seemed to freeze my blood.

"Jerusalem!" he exclaimed, gasping as if choking for breath.  "Thaar!
thaar!"

A gleam shone down from the moon at the moment through the skylight;
and, wonderful to relate, I saw the captain's outstretched hand pointing
to--

Something!

It was standing by the cabin door leading out on to the maindeck.

The Something was the figure of poor Sam Jedfoot, apparently all
dripping wet, as if he had just emerged from his grave in the sea.

His face, turned towards me, looked quite white in the moonlight, as it
became visible for a second and then instantaneously disappeared,
melting back again, into darkness as the moon withdrew her light,
obscured by the angle of the vessel's side, as the ship made another
roll in the contrary direction.

I was almost paralysed with fear, being too much frightened to utter a
sound; and there I remained spellbound, staring still towards the spot
where I had seen the apparition--half-sitting, half-standing on the
locker, having drawn up my feet, so as to be out of the rush of the
water as it washed to and fro on the floor.

As for Captain Snaggs, the sight of his victim seemed to affect him even
more--at least, so I fancied, from his frenzied cry; for, of course, I
could no longer see him.

"Save me! save me!" he called out, in almost as despairing and
terror-stricken a tone as that of poor Sam, when he was shot and fell
into the sea; and then I heard a heavy splash, as if the captain had
tumbled down on his face in the pool slushing about the deck.  "Save me!
Take him away!  The darned nigger hez got me at last!"



CHAPTER FIVE.

ON FIRE IN THE HOLD.

I think I must have swooned away with fright, for the next thing I
recollect on coming to myself was the steward, Morris Jones, shaking me.

"Rouse up, you lazy lubber!" he roared in my ears.  "Rouse up and help
me with the cap'en; he's fell down in a fit, or something!"

Then, I noticed that Jones had a ship's lantern in his hand, by the dim
light of which the cabin was only faintly illuminated; but I could see
the water washing about the floor, with a lot of things floating about
that had been carried away by the big wave coming in through the broken
port in the stern sheets, that was also plainly discernible from the
phosphorescent glow of the sea without, which every moment welled up
almost on a level with the deck above, as if it were going to fetch
inboard again and vamp us altogether.

"Wha--what's the matter?"  I stammered out, half confused at the way in
which the steward shook me; and then, recollecting all that had
happened, as the fearful sight both the captain and I had seen flashed
all at once on my mind, I put my hands before my face shudderingly,
exclaiming, "Oh, the ghost! the ghost!"

"The ghost your grandmother!" ejaculated Jones, giving me another rough
hustle.  "Why, boy, you ain't awake yet.  I'll douse you in the water,
and give you a taste of `cold pig,' if you don't get up and help me in a
minute!"

"But I saw it," I cried, starting to my feet and looking wildly around
to see if the apparition were still there.  "I saw it with my own eyes;
and so did Captain Snaggs, too!"

"Saw what?"

"The ghost of poor Sam Jedfoot."

Morris Jones laughed scornfully.

"You confounded fool, you're dreaming still!" he said, shaking me again,
to give emphasis to his words.  "I should like to know what the nigger
cook's ghost were doin' in here.  Where did you see his ugly phiz agen,
do you say?"

"There!"  I answered boldly, pointing to the corner by the cabin door,
where, as the steward flashed his lantern in the direction, I could
still see something black and hazy waving to and fro.  "Why, there it is
still, if you don't believe me!"

"Well, I'm blowed!" he exclaimed, going over to the place and catching
hold of the object that had again alarmed me.  "You are a frightened
feller to be skeared by an old coat!  Why, it's that Dutch second-mate
of ourn's oilskin a-hangin' up outside his bunk that you thought were
Sam's sperrit when the light shone on it, I s'pose.  You ain't got the
pluck of a flea, Cholly Hills, to lose your head over sich a trifle.
There's no ghostesses now-a-days; and if there was, I don't think as how
the cook's sperrit would come in here, specially arter the way the
skipper settled him.  Man or ghost, he'd be too much afeard to come nigh
the `old man' agen, with him carryin' on like that, and in sich a
tantrum.  I wonder Sam hadn't more sense than to cross his hawse as he
did.  I were too wary, and kep' close in my pantry all the time the row
were on, I did.  I wern't born yesterday!"

"But the cap'en saw it, too, I tell you," I persisted.  "He yelled out
that Sam was there before he tumbled down; and that was how I came to
look and notice the awful thing.  You can believe it or not, but I tell
you I saw Sam Jedfoot there as plain as life--either him or his ghost!"

"Rubbish!" cried Jones, who meanwhile had put the lantern he carried on
the cabin table, and was proceeding to lift up the captain's head and
drag him into a sitting posture against the side of one of the settles
that ran down the cuddy fore and aft.  "Just you light up one of them
swinging lamps, and then come and help me carry the skipper to his bunk.
He's dead drunk, that's what he is; and I wonder he ain't drownded,
too, lying with his nose in all thafe water sluicing round.  As for the
ghost he saw, that were rum, his favour-rite sperrit.  He ought to 'ave
seed two Sams from the lot he's drunk to-night--two bottles as I'm a
living sinner, barrin' a glass or two the first-mate had, and a drop I
squeezed out for myself, when I took him up some grog on deck at the end
of the second dog-watch!"

"Two bottles of rum!"  I exclaimed in astonishment.  "Really?"

"Aye; do you think me lying?" snapped out Jones in answer; "that is,
pretty nigh on, nearly.  I wonder he ain't dead with it all.  I 'ave
knowed him manage a bottle afore of a night all to hisself, but never
two, lor the matter o' that.  It ought to kill him.  Guess he's got a
lit of 'plexy now, an' will wake up with the jim-jams!"

"What's that?"  I asked, as the two of us lifted the captain, who was
breathing stertorously, as if snoring; "anything more serious?"

"Only a fit of the horrors," said Jones nonchalantly, as if the matter
were an every-day circumstance, and nothing out of the common; "but if
he does get 'em, we must hide his blessed revolver, or else he'll be
goin' round the ship lettin' fly at every man Jack of us in turn!  I'll
tell Mr Flinders to be on his guard when he comes-to, so that some one
'll look arter him."

As he spoke, the steward slung the body of the unconscious man into his
cot, I staggering as I lifted the captain's legs, which, although they
were very thin and spindleshanky, wore bony and heavy, while I was slim
and weak for my age.  Besides which, the thrashing I had received the
evening previously had pretty well taken all the strength out of me,
combined with my subsequent fright from the ghost, which I could not
help believing in, despite all Jones's sneers and assertions to the
contrary.  Of course, though, there was no use arguing the point with
him; he was so obstinate--like all Welshmen!

However, between the two of us, we got Captain Snaggs laid in his bed,
where he certainly would be more comfortable than wallowing about in the
water on the cabin floor.  Then, Jones and I left him, just propping up
his head with the pillows, so that he should not suffocate himself.  He
could not well tumble out, the cot having high sides, and swinging
besides with the motion of the ship, being hung from the deck above on a
sort of gimbal joint, that worked in a ball and socket and gave all
ways.

The steward then went back again into his bunk adjoining the pantry to
have his sleep out; but I felt too excited to lie down again.

I did not like to remain there alone in the cabin after what had passed,
listening to the thuds of the waves against the sides of the ship, and
the weird creaking of the timbers, as if the vessel were groaning with
pain, and the heavy breathing of the captain in his cot, that rose above
all these sounds, for he was snoring and snorting away at a fine rate;
so, I proceeded out on to the lower deck, experiencing a chill shudder
as I made my exit by the door where I had seen Sam Jedfoot's spectre in
the moonlight.

I almost fancied it was still there!

When I got out under the break of the poop, I found all quiet, with the
port watch on duty, for Mr Flinders, the first-mate, was in charge, he
having relieved the second-mate, with whom the captain had remained
until he left the deck at midnight; and, an Tom Bullover and Hiram
Bangs, my only friends amongst the crew, had gone below with Mr
Steenbock and the rest of the starboard hands, there was nobody whom I
could speak to and tell all that I had seen.

I felt very lonesome in consequence; and, although I was not a bit
sleepy, having managed to get a good four hours' rest before I was
awakened by Captain Snaggs coming stumbling down the companion way, as
well as by the noise made by the sea smashing into the cabin at the same
time, yet I was tired enough still not to be averse to stowing myself
away under the lee of the long-boat.  I took the precaution, however, to
cuddle up in a piece of old tarpaulin that was lying about, so that the
first-mate should not see me from the poop, and set me on at once to
some task or other below, in his usual malicious way--Mr Flinders, like
Captain Snaggs, never seeming to be happy unless he was tormenting
somebody, and setting them on some work for which there wasn't the least
necessity!

The moon was now shining brightly and lots of stars twinkling in the
heaven, which was clear of clouds, the bracing nor'-westerly wind having
blown them all away; and the _Denver City_ was bounding along with all
plain sail set before the breeze, that was right astern, rolling now and
again with a stiff lurch to port and then to starboard, and diving her
nose down one moment with her stern lifting, only to rise again
buoyantly the next instant and shake the spray off her jib-boom as she
pointed it upwards, trying to poke a hole in the sky!

What with the whistling of the wind through the cordage, and the wash of
the waves as they raced over each other and broke with a seething
`whish' into masses of foam, and the motion of the ship gently rocking
to and fro like a pendulum as she lurched this way and that with
rhythmical regularity, my eyes presently began to close.  So, cuddling
myself up in the tarpaulin, for the air fresh from the north felt rather
chilly, I dropped off into a sound nap, not waking again until one of
the men forward struck `six bells,' just when the day was beginning to
dawn.  This was in spite of my being `not a bit sleepy,' as I said.

I roused up with a start, not; knowing where I was at first; but it was
not long before the fact was made patent to me that I was aboard ship,
and a cabin boy as well to boot--a sort of `Handy Billy,' for every one
to send on errands and odd jobs--the slave of the cuddy and fo'c's'le
alike!

Before he had imbibed so much rum, and just prior to his going on the
poop that time when he startled us all so much in the fo'c's'le by his
hail for Tom Bullover and the rest of the starboard hands to come aft
and relieve the port watch, Captain Snaggs, as I afterwards learnt, had
spoken to the steward, telling him that he was to take over poor Sam
Jedfoot's duties for awhile, until the men selected a new cook from
amongst themselves.  Jones was told to commence work in the galley the
next evening, with especial injunctions to be up early enough to light
the fire under the coppers, so that the crew could have their hot coffee
at `eight bells,' when the watches were changed--this indulgence being
always allowed now in all decent merchant vessels; for Captain Snaggs,
if he did haze and bully the hands under him, took care to get on their
weather side by looking after their grub, a point they recollected, it
may be remembered, when he appealed to them in reference to his
treatment of poor Sam.

Now, Morris Jones did not relish the job; but, as the first-mate had
been present when the captain gave his orders, albeit Mr Flinders was
rather limp at the time, from the physicking he, like the skipper, had
had from the jalap in the stew, the steward knew that he would recollect
all about it, even if the rum should have made the captain forget.  So,
much against his inclination, he turned out of his bunk at daybreak to
see to lighting the galley fire; when, whom should he chance to come
right up against on his way forward but me, just as I had wriggled
myself out of the tarpaulin and sat up on the deck, rubbing my
half-opened eyes.

Jones was delighted at the opportunity for `passing on' the obnoxious
duty.

"Here, you young swab!" he cried, giving me a kick to waken me up more
thoroughly, and then catching hold of me by the scruff of the neck and
pulling me up on my feet, "stir your stumps a bit and just you come
forrud along o' me.  I'm blessed if I'm going to do cook an' stooard's
work single-handed, an' you lazy rascallion a caulkin' all over the
ship!  First I finds yer snug down snoozin' in the cabin, an' now here,
with the sun ready to scorch yer eyes out.  Why, yer ought ter be right
down 'shamed o' yerself.  I'm blessed if I ever see sich a b'y for
coilin' hisself away an' caulkin' all hours of the day and night!"

Jones was fond of hearing himself talk, as well as pleased to have some
one he was able to bully in turn as the skipper bullied him; and so, he
kept jawing and grumbling away all the while we were getting up to the
galley, although that did not take very long--not by any means so long
as his tongue was and the stream of words that flowed from it when he
had once begun, as if he would really never end!

"Now, you young beggar," said he, opening the half-door of the cook's
caboose and shoving me inside, "let us see how soon you can light a fire
an' make the water in the coppers boil.  I'll fill 'em for you while
you're putting the sticks in; so heave ahead, an' I'll fetch a bucket or
two from the scuttle butt!"

He spoke of this as if he were conferring a favour on me, instead of
only doing his own work; but I didn't answer him, going on to make a
good fire with some wood and shavings, which Sam used to get from the
carpenter and kept handy in the corner of the galley, ready to hand when
wanted.  I knew by this time, from practical experience, that words on
board ship, where cabin boys are concerned at all events, generally lead
to `more kicks than ha'pence,' as the saying goes!

Soon, I had a good blaze up, and the steward on his part filling the
coppers, they were both shortly at boiling-point; when, going aft to his
pantry, Jones fetched out a pound of coffee, which he chucked into the
starboard copper, which held about four gallons, and was not quite
filled to the brim.  He evidently had determined to propitiate the crew
at the start by giving them good coffee for once and plenty of it; as
there were only eighteen hands in the fo'c's'le, now that Sam had gone,
besides himself and me--leaving out the captain and mates, who belonged
to the cabin, and of course did not count in, but who made our total
complement in the ship twenty-three souls all told.

Jones, too, dowsed into the copper a tidy lot of molasses, to sweeten
the coffee; and so, when it was presently served out promptly at `eight
bells,' he won golden opinions in this his first essay at cooking, the
men all declaring it prime stuff.  I think, though, I ought to have had
some of the credit of it, having lighted the fire and seen to everything
save chucking in the coffee and molasses, which anybody else could have
done quite so well as the steward!

Jones kept me too busy in the galley to allow me time to speak to Tom
Bullover and Hiram Bangs, when they turned out to relieve the port
watch; but, later on, when the decks had been washed down, and the sun
was getting well up in the eastern horizon, flooding the ocean with the
rosy light of morning, I had an opportunity of telling my friend the
carpenter of what I had seen in the cabin.

Much to my disgust, however, he laughed at my account of Sam Jedfoot's
ghost having appeared, declaring that I had been dreaming and imagined
it all.

"No, Charley, I wouldn't believe it if you went down on your bended
knees an' swore it, not save I seed Sam with my own eyes, an' even then
I'd have a doubt," said Tom, grinning in the most exasperating way.
"Why, look there, now, at the skipper on the poop, as right as
ninepence!  If he'd been in the state you say, an' were so orfully
frightened, an' had seed Sam's sperrit, as you wants to make me swallow,
do you think he'd look so perky this mornin'?"

I could hardly believe my eyes.

Yes, there was Captain Snaggs, braced up against the poop rail in his
usual place, with one eye scanning the horizon to windward and the other
inspecting the sails aloft, and his billy-goat beard sticking out as it
always did.  He looked as hearty as if nothing had happened, the only
sign that I could see of his drunken fit of the night before being a cut
across the bridge of his long hooked nose, and a slight discolouration
of his eye on the port side, the result, no doubt, of his fall on the
cabin floor.

Tom Bullover could read my doubts in my face.

"You must have dreamed it, Charley, I s'pose, on account of all that
talkin' we had in the fo'c's'le about ghostesses afore you went aft an'
turned in, an' that's what's the matter," he repeated, giving me a nudge
in the ribs, while he added more earnestly: "And, if I was you, my boy,
I wouldn't mention a word of it to another soul, or the hands 'll chaff
the life out of you, an' you'll wish you were a ghost yerself!"

Tom moved off as he uttered these last words with a chuckle, and
accompanied by an expressive wink, that spoke volumes; so, seeing his
advice was sound, I determined to act upon it, although the fear struck
me that Jones, the steward, would mention it even if I didn't, just to
make me the laughing-stock of the crew.

However, I had no time then for reflection; Captain Snaggs, as if to
show that he had all his wits about him still, calling out for the hands
forward to overhaul the studding-sail gear and rig out the booms; and,
by breakfast time, when the steward and I had to busy ourselves again in
the galley, the _Denver City_ was covered with, a regular pyramid of
canvas, that seemed to extend from the truck to the deck, while she was
racing through the water at a rate of ten knots or more, with a clear
sky above and a moderate sea below, and a steady nor'-nor'-west wind
after us.

At noon, when the captain took the sun and told us forward to "make it
eight bells," we learnt that we were in longitude 8 degrees 15 minutes
West, and latitude 49 degrees 20 minutes North, or well to the westward
of the Scilly Islands, and so really out at sea and entered on our long
voyage to California.

This fact appeared to give no little satisfaction to the crew, who
raised a chorus whenever a rope had to be pulled or a brace taughtened,
the fine weather and brighter surroundings making the sailors apparently
forget, with that sort of happy knack for which seafaring folk are
generally distinguished, all the rough time we had coming down Saint
George's Channel, when off the Tuskar, and the terrible events of the
preceding day.

That very afternoon, indeed, the last act that was to blot out poor Sam
Jedfoot's memory from the minds of all the hands took place, the skipper
ordering the usual auction of the dead man's effects to be held on the
fo'c's'le; when, such is the comedy of life, the very men who were so
indignant about the captain shooting him a few hours before now cut
jokes about the poverty of the darkey's kit, when his sea-chest was
opened and its contents put up for sale to the highest bidder!

Sam's banjo led to a spirited competition, Hiram Bangs finally
succeeding in becoming its purchaser for five dollars, which Captain
Snaggs was authorised to deduct from the American sailor's wages--
crediting it to the cook's account, should the dead man's heirs or
assigns apply for any balance due to the poor darkey when the ship
arrived in port.

The rest of the things only fetched a trifle; and, with the disposal of
his goods and chattels, all recollection of the light-hearted Sam, who
was once the life of the fo'c's'le, passed out of everyone's mind.
Hiram stowed the banjo away in his box, for he could not play it, and
had only bought it from its association with its late owner, who used to
make him, he said, merry and sad, `jest as the durned nigger liked,'
with the melody he drew from the now silent strings.

And yet, somehow or other, it seemed destined that Sam should not be so
soon forgotten, at least by me; for, in the evening, when I took in the
cabin dinner and remained to wait at table, in lieu of the steward, who
was too much occupied in cooking to come aft, Captain Snaggs brought up
the subject again.

He was in high spirits at the manner in which the ship was travelling
along, appearing to have quite recovered from his drinking bout; and
when I uncovered the dish that I placed before him, he made a joke about
it to the first-mate, who, according to custom, shared meals with the
skipper in the cuddy and always sat down the same time that he did, the
second-mate having to shift by himself, and eat when he had the chance
between watches.

"Guess thaar ain't no jalap in this lot, Flinders, hey?" said the
captain, with a snigger; "thet thaar cuss of a stooard would be too
skeart of my fixin' him same ez I done thet durned nigger to try on any
games, ye bet!"

"I reckon so, boss," replied the other, with his mouth full, stuffing
away in his usual fashion.  "Ye potted the coon nicely, ye did; an'
sarved him right, too, fur meddlin' with the grub.  I thought I wer
pizened sure!"

"An' so did I, by thunder!" echoed Captain Snaggs, bringing his fist
down with a bang on the table, that almost made Mr Flinders' plate leap
out of the `fiddle' in which it was placed, to prevent it from spilling
its contents as the ship rolled.  "I did so, by thunder!  I sw'ar, or
else I wouldn't a' shot the cuss.  Them hands furrud thinks I'm going to
be sich a durned fool ez to call in at Bahia or Rio, an' make a
statement of the case, telling how the nigger got overboard; but ye
catch me stoppin' at any a port 'fore I drops anchor in 'Frisco.  Ye
knows better ner thet, Flinders, hey?"

The first-mate sniggered sympathetically at this, expressing by a wink
his confidence in the skipper's promise to the men; and the two laughed
with much heartiness and fellow feeling over the credulity of those who
had been so easily satisfied, and gone back to their work, confidently
trusting in Captain Snaggs' word and honour.

A little later on, when the rum bottle was produced, the captain alluded
to his excess of the night before in the same jocular vein:--

"Must keep a kinder stiffer helm this evenin', Flinders," he observed,
helping himself to a tumblerful, and then passing on the bottle to the
mate; "guess I wer a bit sprung yesterday?"

"Aye, cap, ye hed y'r load," replied Mr Flinders, with a grin; adding,
however, in fear of the skipper taking offence: "Not mor'n ye could
carry, though.  Ye scooted down the companion all right at eight bells."

"Thet's so," said the other; "but, d'ye know, Flinders, I wer flummuxed
up inter a heap when I got below, an' saw snakes terrible.  I guess I
seed, too, thet air durned nigger, an' hed a notion he wer come back
agen to haunt me--I did so, Flinders, by thunder!"

"Ye must take keer, cap," responded the first-mate to this confession.
"If ye don't draw in a bit ye'll be hevin' the shakes, an' thet 'd never
do, I reckon."

"I guess not; but last night I wer kinder overcome with all the muss,
an' might jist hev swallerd a drop or so too much, I reckon.  Good rum
can't hurt nary a one--thet is, in moderation, Flinders, strictly in
moderation."

So saying, Captain Snaggs helped himself to another stiff tumblerful;
and how many more glasses he had afterwards I could not say, as he
dismissed me just then, telling me I could go forwards when I had
cleared away the things--which I did in a jiffy, glad to quit the cabin
and its occupants.

On reaching the fo'c's'le, I found that the steward had, as I perceived,
told the men of my fright, and so I got finely chaffed about `Sam's
ghost.'  The next day I was revenged, though; for, Jones spoiled the
crew's dinner, and got so mauled by the indignant sailors that he had to
beat a retreat back to the cabin, giving up thus ingloriously his brief
tenancy of the galley.

Hiram Bangs was then elected cook in his place by the hands, with whom
the captain left the matter, to settle it as they pleased; and, as the
good-natured Yankee selected me to be his `mate' or assistant, by this
means I was relieved of any further association with the Welshman, and
released from his tyranny, taking up my quarters thenceforth with the
crew forward.

The nor'-westerly wind lasted us right across the Bay of Biscay and down
to the Western Islands; and, we were only becalmed for a day or so, with
light, variable breezes between the Azores and Madeira, when we picked
up the nor'-east trades, which rattled us onward past the Canaries and
Cape Verde.

From thence, all went well on board, nothing eventful happening until we
were close up with the Equator, in latitude 7 degrees North, and
longitude about 28 degrees West, when, late in the evening of our
thirtieth day out, just as the man at the wheel had been relieved, and
the port watch, under charge of the first-mate, come on duty at `eight
bells,' I smelt something burning in the forepeak.

Looking to see what was the matter, I noticed a thin column of smoke
coming up from the small hatch under the fo'c's'le.

Of course, I went aft at once and told Mr Flinders, who would not
believe me at first; but, as one of the other hands followed me up,
bringing the same report, he was at length induced to descend the poop
ladder and go forward to judge for himself whether we had told the truth
or not, muttering the while, though, that it was "all a pack o' durned
nonsense!"

He did not think this long, however, for hardly had he got beyond the
long-boat, when the smoke, which had got much denser while he had been
wasting time palavering without taking action, blowing into his face
convinced him that the matter was really serious.

All his nonchalance was gone in a moment, as well as his discretion;
for, without pausing to consider the effect that any sudden disclosure
of the danger might have on the crew by destroying their coolness and
pluck, he roared out at the pitch of his voice, as he banged away with
the heel of his boot on the deck:

"All hands ahoy!  Tumble up thaar!  Tumble up!  The shep's on fire in
the hold!"



CHAPTER SIX.

CAPE HORN WEATHER.

"Je-rusalem!" exclaimed Captain Snaggs, rushing out from the cabin in
his night-shirt, having just turned in, and not stopping to dress--as
the fluttering white garment and his thin legs showing beneath plainly
demonstrated.  This I noticed when the mass of heavy clouds with which
the sky was covered overhead shifted for a moment, allowing a stray
gleam from the watery moon to light up the deck, and saw the skipper
hurrying up to the scene of action, where he was the first to arrive.
"What's all this durned muss about?"

Jan Steenbock answered him.  He had not gone below when his watch was
relieved, and being attracted by the row, was now preparing for
emergencies by rigging a hose on to the head-pump, so that this could be
at once passed down into the hold if necessary--the first-mate being too
frightened to do anything, even to reply to the captain when he spoke.
Indeed, he seemed perfectly paralysed with fear.

"Dere vas shmoke come out vrom ze forepeak," said the second-mate, in
his deep guttural tones; "and I zinks dere vas one fire in ze holt.
Mishter Vlinders vas give ze alarm and cal't all hands."

"Guess I heerd thet; an', I reckon, Mr Flinders hed better hev comed
an' told me quietly, instead of skearin' everybody into a blue funk!"
snapped out Captain Snaggs, dancing about on his spindleshank legs like
a pea on a hot griddle, and dodging the smoke as it puffed in his face,
while peering forward to see whence it came.  "Hev any of yer chaps ben
down below to prospect whaar the durned thing is?"

"It vas in ze forepeak, cap'n," said Jan Steenbock, in response to this
question.  "I vas zee it meinselfs."

"Is the hose ready?"

"Aye, aye, sir!" shouted back a score of voices, all hands being now on
deck and every one forward, save the helmsman and steward--the latter,
no doubt, snoozing away comfortably in his bunk, and not troubling
himself about the disturbance, thinking, if he thought at all, that the
call of the first-mate was only probably to shorten sail, in which case
he might just as well remain where he was.  "The hose is rigged and the
head-pump manned, sir."

"Then let her rip!" shouted the skipper.  "Go it, my hearties, an' flood
it out.  I've hed nary a fire aboard my ship afore; an' I don't want to
be burnt out now, I reckon, with all them dry goods an' notions below,
by thunder!  Put your back into it, ye lubbers, an' let her rip, I tell
ye; she's all oak!"

One party of men attended to the pump, Jan Steenbock directing the end
of the hose down the half-opened hatch, the lid having been partly
slipped off by some one.  The captain ranged the rest along the gangway,
passing the buckets; and these a couple of others standing in the
forechains dipped in the sea, hauling them up when full and handing them
to those nearest, the skipper clutching hold when they reached him and
chucking their contents down below.

The smoke in a minute or two perceptibly diminished in volume; and,
presently, only a thin spiral wreath faintly stole up, in lieu of the
thick clouds that had previously almost stifled us.

A wild hurrah of triumph burst from the crew; and the second-mate was
just about descending into the forepeak, to get nearer the fire and see
whether it had been thoroughly put out, when the entire cover of the
hatchway was suddenly thrown violently off, and the dripping head and
shoulders of a man appearing right under his very nose startled Jan
Steenbock so much that he tumbled backward on the deck, although,
impassive as usual, he did not utter a cry.

The captain did though.

"By the jumping Jehosophat!" he yelled out, also hopping back
precipitately, with his night-shirt streaming out in the wind, which
must have made his legs feel rather chilly, I thought, "who in thunder's
thaar?"

"Me," replied a husky voice, the owner whereof coughed, as if he were
pretty well suffocated with the smoke and water.  "It's all right; it's
only me."

"Jee-rusalem!" ejaculated Captain Snaggs, rather puzzled.  "Who's `me'
I'd like ter know, I guess?"

"Tom Bullover," answered my friend the carpenter, now lifting himself
out of the forepeak, when shaking himself like a big Newfoundland dog,
he scattered a regular shower bath around.  "It's all right below, and
there's no fire there no longer."

"An' what in the name of thunder wer ye a-doin' on down thaar, hey?"
asked the skipper, quite flabbergasted at his unexpected appearance, Tom
looking like a veritable imp from the lower regions, all blackened and
begrimed, for the moon escaping from the veil of vapour that now nearly
concealed the entire vault of the heavens just then shone down on us
again, throwing a sickly light on the scene.  "How kern ye to be down in
the forepeak at all, my joker?"

"I went down just afore my watch was up to look up a spare old tops'l we
stowed away there, me and Hiram, the week afore last, to see whether it
wouldn't do in place o' that main to'gallant we carried away yesterday,"
replied Tom, rather sheepishly; "an' I s'pose I fell asleep, for it was
only the water you kept a-pouring down as woke me up, an' I was most
drownded afore I could reach the ladder an' catch hold of the coamin' of
the hatch to climb up."

"An' sarve ye right, too, if we hed drownded ye, by thunder!" roared
Captain Snaggs, thoroughly incensed, "ye durned addle-headed lubber!  I
guess ye hed a lantern with ye, hey?"

"Yes," confessed the delinquent; "in course I took a light down to see
what I was a-doin' of."

"`In course'!" repeated the captain, in savage mimicry of Tom's way of
speaking; "an' yer durned lantern got upsot, or kicked over, or
sunthin', an' so, I guess ye sot fire to the sails, hey?"

"No, sir, there's nothing hurt to mention," replied Tom, more coolly;
"it was only some old rags and greasy waste that the cook shoved down
there that caught, which were the reason it made such a big smoke."

The skipper snorted indignantly at this explanation; and then, craning
his long neck over the hatchway, he sniffed about, as if trying to
detect some special smell.

"`Big smoke,' hey!" he cried, as he stood upright again, and shook his
fist in Tom's face.  "I guess theft's jest the ticket, ye thunderin'
liar!  Ye've been shamming Abraham in yer watch, an' sneaked down thaar
to hev a pipe on the sly, when ye should hev bin mindin' yer dooty,
thet's what's the matter, sirree; but, I'll make ye pay for it, ye
skulkin' rascallion.  I'll stop ye a month's wages fur the damage done
to the ship--if not by the fire, by the water we've hove in to put it
out, an' ye ken tote it up, if ye like, yerself!"

Captain Snaggs then ordered the second-mate to go down and see if all
danger were really over, and nothing left smouldering, not trusting to
Tom's assurance to that effect; and, presently, when Jan Steenbock came
up again with a satisfactory report, the skipper, who was now shivering
with the wet and exposure in such a light and airy costume, returned
back to his cabin to finish his sleep in peace--not, however, without
giving a rating to Mr Flinders, for his behaviour, which he said was as
bad as that of the carpenter.

The starboard watch were then told that they might go below, though it
was getting on for midnight, when they would have to turn out again, and
keep the deck till the morning.

I don't know how it was, but, from that night, everything went wrong
with the ship.

The very next afternoon, a tremendous thunderstorm broke over us, and a
nasty blue, zigzagging streak of lightning struck our mizzen-royal mast,
splintering the spar and sending the tye-block down on the poop, nearly
killing the second-mate.

If it had been Mr Flinders it wouldn't have mattered so much, but Jan
Steenbock was a decent fellow and a good seaman, being much liked by all
hands, barring the skipper, who, of course, disliked him because he took
the men's part and let them have easy times of it in his watch.

This was the beginning of a fourteen days' spell we had of rolling about
in the sweltering calms of the Doldrums; and then, when we at last
managed to drift cross the Line, we had another fortnight's stagnation
before we met the south-east trades, only a couple of degrees or so
below the Equator.

By this time, every man on board was heartily sick of the ship and tired
of his company, for the captain was continually grumbling with the mates
and hazing the crew, and the hands as constantly falling out among
themselves.  Only my two friends, Tom Bullover and Hiram, the Yankee
sailor, really remained chummy or contented out of the whole lot.  The
rest seemed thoroughly dissatisfied, complaining of their grub and
everything.

Some of them declared, too, that the vessel was unlucky and under a
curse, saying that they heard strange noises at night in the hold,
though I did not think much of this, Tom and Hiram between them having
nearly succeeded in chaffing me out of my belief in having seen Sam
Jedfoot's ghost.

On getting a fair wind again, the ship, which had lost almost a lunar
month through bad weather and calms and no weather at all, began to
travel once more southward, steering almost west-sou'-west on the port
tack; but as we reached down the South American coast-line towards Cape
Horn, we nearly came to grief on the Abralhos, the _Denver City_ just
escaping laying her bones there by the `skin of her teeth,' to use Tom
Bullover's expression to me next morning, as I was serving out the
coffee--the peril having been met in the middle watch, when I was
asleep, and knew nothing about it until it was over and we were sailing
on serenely once more.

Then, again, off the mouth of the La Plata, when nearly opposite Buenos
Ayres, although, of course, some five hundred miles or more from the
land, we suddenly encountered a terrific `pampero,' as the storms of
that region are styled; and, if Captain Snaggs hadn't smelt this coming
in time, we should have been dismasted and probably gone to the bottom
with all hands.

As it was, we only managed to furl the upper sails and clew up the
courses before the wind caught us, heeling the vessel over almost
broadside on to the sea; and then everything had to be let go by the
run, the ship scudding away right before the gale, as if towed by wild
horses, with the sheets and halliards and everything flying--for, at
first, the hail that accompanied the wind beat down on us so fearfully
that no one was able to face it and go aloft.

That night, one of the hands who came up to the galley to light his
pipe, and who had previously spoken of the noises he had noticed, as he
said, about the deck during the still hours of the early morning, when
all sounds seem so much louder than in the daytime, both aboard ship and
ashore, declared that during the height of the pampero he had heard Sam
Jedfoot's voice distinctly singing that old negro ballad of which he
used to be so fond when in life, chaunting it almost regularly every
evening on the fo'c's'le to the accompaniment of his banjo:--

  "Oh, down in Alabama, 'fore I wer sot free,
  I lubbed a p'ooty yaller gal, an' fought dat she lubbed me!"

Of course, Hiram Bangs and Tom Bullover, who were smoking inside the
galley at the time, laughed at the man for his folly; but he persisted
in his statement, and went away at last quite huffed because they would
not believe him.

This was not the end of it all, however, as events will show.



CHAPTER SEVEN.

A HAUNTED SHIP.

A week later, Captain Snaggs, after drinking heavily during the evening,
was seized with a fit of delirium similar to the one he had that night
when he frightened me so terribly, for he rushed out of the cuddy,
screaming that `thet durned nigger Sam' was after him again.

He made my flesh creep; and I wouldn't have gone afterwards into the
stern of the ship at night, without a light, for a good deal, nor would
any of the fo'c's'le hands either, excepting, perhaps, Tom Bullover.  I
am certain Hiram Bangs would have been even more reluctant than myself
to have ventured within the presumptive quarters of the ghost.

But, it was when we were off Cape Horn itself, though, that we
encountered our greatest peril.

The _Denver City_ had got down well below the latitude of the stormy
headland that is to mariners like the `Hill Difficulty' mentioned in the
`Pilgrim's Progress,' carrying with her up to then the light, favourable
breezes we had encountered after leaving the south-east trades which had
previously wafted her so well on her way; when, all at once, without
hardly a warning, the sea began to grow choppy and sullen, and the air
thick and heavy.  The sky, too, which had been for days and days nearly
cloudless, became overcast all round, heavy masses of vapour piling
themselves upwards from the horizon towards the zenith, to the southward
and westward, gradually enveloping ship and ocean alike in a mantle of
mist.

"Cape Horn weather," observed Tom Bullover meaningly, as he squinted to
windward; "we'll have a taste of it presently!"

"Aye, bo," said Hiram, from the door of the galley opposite, where the
carpenter was holding on to the weather rigging; "I wonder what the
skipper's about, keepin' all thet hamper aloft an' a gale like thet
a-comin'!  I reckon he'd better look smart, or we'll be caught nappin',
hey?"

Captain Snaggs, however, was also on the look-out; and, almost ere Hiram
had finished his sentence, he shouted out for all hands to take in sail.

"'Way aloft thaar!" he cried; "lay out on the yards, men, an' close reef
the tops'ls.  We're going to hev a blow!"

And we did have a blow.

The men were just ready to haul in the weather earring of the
mizzen-topsail, the last they were handing, the fore and main having
been already made snug, when a storm of wind and hail and snow struck us
which in a few minutes coated the deck and rigging and every portion of
the upper works of the ship with thick ice.  At the same time, the sea,
rolling in enormous waves, broke over our counter, throwing sheets of
water aboard, which seemed to freeze in the air before it fell.

I was standing on the poop, lending a hand at the mizzen halliards with
the rest of the `idlers'--as those who are not regular sailors are
called, although I was fast trying to become a real salt under the apt
tuition of Hiram Bangs and the carpenter--when this fierce blast came.

Goodness gracious!  It pinned us all down to the deck, as if we were
skittle-pegs, making our faces smart again with the bitter downpour.

Next, followed a short lull, during which the reef tackle was hauled out
and the halliards manned, the yard being swayed up again; and then,
those aloft were able to come down and find a more comfortable shelter
below than the rigging afforded.

But, now, occurred a curious circumstance.

As the hands who had been up on the mizzen-yard reefing the topsail
stepped from the ratlines on to the deck of the poop before getting down
to the waist below, one of the men, Jim Chowder, the same who had said
that he had heard Sam Jedfoot's voice in the ship since he had been lost
overboard, whispered to me as he passed:--

"Listen!" he said.

That was all--

"Listen!"

The wind had suddenly died away for a moment, although the sea was like
an ocean of mountains lumbering over each other; and as I `listened', as
Jim the sailor had told me, I heard a musical sound that I instantly
recognised.  It was that of the negro cook's banjo, and Sam's voice,
too, most unmistakably, singing the same old air I knew so well:

  "Oh, down in Alabama, 'fore I wer sot free."

The instrument seemed to give out a double twang at this point, as if
all the strings were twitched at once, and I noticed that Captain
Snaggs, who stood near me, turned as white as a sheet.

"Thunder!" he exclaimed, his eyes almost starting out of his head.  "The
Lord hev mercy on us!  What air thet?"

As if in answer to his question, the same wild, ghostly melody was
repeated, the sound seeming to hover in the air and yet to come from
underneath the deck under our feet, the tune swelling in intensity as we
all listened, so that every man on board must have heard it as well as
the captain and myself.

And then, just as the last bar was struck with another resounding twang,
a fiercer blast than the first caught the ship on her port quarter, and
she heeled over to starboard until her deck was almost upright, while at
the same time a terrible wave washed over us fore and aft, sweeping
everything movable overboard.

I held on to the weather rigging like `grim Death,' amidst a mass of
seething foam, that flowed over the poop as if it were the open sea,
with the roar of rushing waters around me and the whistling and
shrieking of the wind as it tore through the shrouds and howled and
wailed, sweeping onward away to leeward.

The spirit of the storm seemed to have broken loose; its black
cloud-wings covering the heavens and fanning up the waves into fury, and
then hurling them at the _Denver City_, which, poor, stricken thing,
quailed before the onslaught of the cruel blast and remorseless rolling
billows which followed each other in swift succession.  These bore her
down, and down, and down, until she was almost on her beam-ends,
labouring heavily and groaning and creaking in every timber, and looking
as if she were going to capsize every instant.

Not a man on board but thought his last hour had come.

The noise of the raging elements, however, in this mad commotion at once
drowned the sound of the weird, mysterious music that had previously
filled the air, affecting us all so strangely, especially Captain
Snaggs, who seemed to be stricken by a spell as long as the sad strain
echoed in our ears.  But, the moment that we ceased to hear the phantom
chaunt, the skipper recovered himself, his sailor instincts getting the
better of his superstitious fears and sudden fright.

Fortunately, he had clutched hold of the poop rail as the fierce gust
caught the vessel, or, otherwise, he would have been carried over the
side, and be struggling for dear life half a mile, at least, astern,
where the hen-coops and casks that had been washed overboard were now
bobbing about, as they sank slowly out of sight on the crest of the wave
that had cleared our decks.

A thorough seaman, in spite of his malevolent disposition and bullying
manner, which, I suppose, he could not help, he knew at once what was
best to be done under the circumstances--what, indeed, was the only
thing that would save the ship, and which, if it could be done, had to
be done quickly.

Still grasping the rail with one hand, he made a motion with the other
to Jan Steenbock to put the helm up, for the second-mate, being on the
poop, had immediately jumped to the wheel to the assistance of the man
there, who had as much as he could do single-handed to keep down the
spokes, the ship steering wildly in such a heavy, tumbling sea as was
boiling around us.  The captain the next moment clambered to the
mizzen-topsail sheets and halliards, and let them go by the run, an
example that was instantly followed by those on the deck below, Tom
Bullover, who was in charge there, anticipating the skipper's intention,
although he could not catch the order he bawled out at the same time
that he lifted his hand to warn the helmsman--the terrible din kept up
by the waves and wind alike preventing a word from reaching any one
standing a yard beyond Captain Snaggs, had he spoken through a speaking
trumpet and been possessed of lungs of brass!

At first, it looked as if these measures had been adopted too late, the
vessel lay so helplessly over on her side; but, in a little while,
although it seemed a century to us, with our lives trembling in the
balance, during the interval of a brief lull she slowly righted again.
Then, paying off from the wind, she plunged onward, pitching and rolling
and careering before the gale as it listed, yawing to port and starboard
and staggering along; throwing tons of water over her fo'c's'le as she
dived and then taking in whole seas over her quarter as she rolled on,
the following waves overtaking her--just like a high mettled steed that
had thrown its rider and was rejoicing in its temporary freedom.

The canvas aloft was ballooning out, and the ropes slatting and
cracking, with blocks banging against the spars, all making a regular
pandemonium of noise, in conjunction with the hoarse shriek of the
sou'-wester and the clashing of the billows when they broke, buffeting
the _Denver City_ as if they would smash in her topsides at every blow!

Mr Flinders, the first-mate, who had got his arm hurt shortly before
the first blast struck us and had gone below to have it bound up by the
steward, now crawled up the companion and approached the skipper,
shouting something in his ear that, of course, I could not catch.

Captain Snaggs, however, apparently understood what he said, and
approved of his suggestion, for he nodded in answer; and, thereupon, the
first-mate, working his way down again through the cabin on to the deck
below, the poop ladder being unsafe with his injured arm, spoke to the
men, who were holding on as well as they could in a group by the
mainmast bitts, and they began to bestir themselves.

Something was evidently going to be done to relieve the ship of all the
loose top hamper flying about aloft, which threatened every moment to
drag the masts out of her, for everything was swaying to and fro, and
the topsails jerking terribly as they swelled out, the clews fouling the
reef points as the wind threw them up, and all getting mixed in
irretrievable confusion from the continual slatting of the canvas--for
the whole of the running gear, having been let go, was now dangling
about in all directions and knotting itself up in the standing rigging,
round which the wind whipped the ropes, lashing them into a series of
bowlines and half-hitches that it would have puzzled a fisherman to
unbend.

When the storm had burst so suddenly on us, the ship had been braced up
on the port tack, beating to windward as well as she could, to weather
Cape Horn; but now, of course, we were running right before the gale,
retracing at headlong speed every knot we had previously gained on our
true course.

A few hours at this rate, as anyone with half an eye could see--even if
everything stood the strain, which was very questionable--would place us
on the chart pretty well where we were the day before; and, then, we
should have all our work to do over again, without having a cable's
length to boast of to the good so far as our onward progress was
concerned into the Pacific Ocean--most aptly named by the Spaniards,
from the marked contrast its placid bosom offered, no doubt, to the
rough sea these early voyagers met with on this side of the Land of Fire
and of the Stormy Cape.

But still, although we were scudding with everything flying aloft, the
leebraces had not yet been let go, all that I have taken so long to
describe having occurred, so to speak, within the compass of a minute.
These, up to now, had remained fast, just as when we were close-hauled
on the port tack the moment before; for, it was as much as our few hands
could do at first to cast off the sheets and halliards, without minding
the braces, especially as the ropes had got jammed at the bitts with the
loose gear washing about the deck.  However--`better late than never'--
they were now quickly let go, and the braces on the weather side being
manned, the yards were squared.  It was a job of some difficulty,
although accomplished at length, the ship showing herself all the better
for the operation by running easier and not staggering and yawing so
much as she raced along.

This was the first step.

The next was to stop the uproar aloft, and create a little order amidst
the chaos that there reigned, which was a much harder and far more
ticklish task, it being perilous in the extreme, and almost useless, for
any of the hands to venture up the rigging; for the wind was blowing
with such terrific force that they could not have possibly lain out on
the yards, even if they succeeded in reaching the futtock shrouds.

It was no good shouting to the men.

As I said before, they could not hear a word spoken, had it been bawled
in the loudest tone; so, Mr Flinders managed to explain his purpose by
signs, or some other means that I could not at the moment guess, for Tom
Bullover and the rest of the crew at once commenced hauling on the
maintopsail sheets.

The effect of this was almost instantaneous.

Puckering up into a bag where, as I mentioned, the clew had fouled the
reef points, the sail burst `bang' out of the boltropes with a noise
like thunder; and, then, carried forwards by the gale, it floated away
ahead, fortunately just clearing the foretopmast, which might have been
broken by the extra strain--the fluttering mass of canvas finally
disappearing, like a white kite, in the distance in the water ahead of
the ship.

Getting rid of this sail was even a greater relief to the over-driven
vessel than squaring the yards had been, a consequence which the
first-mate and carpenter had fully anticipated when the sheets were
manned; so, a similar procedure was adopted with the fore-topsail, and a
like happy result followed, the ship still driving on before the wind,
very nearly at as great a rate as she had done before, although under
bare poles almost.

But she now steered more easily, not taking in such a lot of water
aboard when she rolled, while the spars ceased to sway about, and it
looked as if we should save them, which had seemed impossible a short
time previously, from the ugly way in which the shrouds tightened, and
the after-stays sung, as if they were stretched to the last limit,
showing that the slightest increase of the strain on them would snap
them like pack-thread.

The mizzen-topsail was by this time our only rag left remaining, and the
captain, evidently wishing to save this, so as to use it by-and-by when
the gale lulled, to help in bringing the vessel round again to the wind,
started off by himself hauling on the buntlines and clewlines, being
quickly aided by Jan Steenbock and little me--we being all the `hands'
on the poop except the helmsman, whom the second-mate was able at last
to leave for a minute or so unassisted, from the fact of the ship having
become more tractable since she had lost all that lot of loose top
hamper flapping about aloft.

The three of us took `a long pull and a strong pull, and a pull all
together,' according to the old sailor phrase, I tugging my best with
the others; and, possibly the ounce or two of `beef' I was able to put
into the rope so far assisted as just to turn the scale.  At all events,
we ultimately succeeded in clewing up the topsail pretty fairly;
although, of course, it could not be properly stowed until some of the
hands were able to get up on the yard and snug it comfortably by passing
the sea-gaskets.

So far, everything had been accomplished satisfactorily, and the ship
was running free before the gale at the rate of ten or twelve knots, or
more, without a stitch of canvas set beyond the bunt of the
mizzen-topsail, which bagged and bulged out a bit still, in spite of our
efforts to clew it up tight.

But, now, a new danger arose.

We were bowling along before the wind, it is true; but, the heavy
rolling sea that had been worked up in a brief space of time was
travelling at a much faster rate, and there was every fear that one of
the monster billows which each moment curled up threateningly in our
wake would hurl itself on board, thus pooping the vessel and rendering
her altogether unmanageable, if not a hopeless wreck--such a mass of
water as the big waves carried in their frowning crests being more than
sufficient to swamp us instanter, and, mayhap, bury the poor _Denver
City_ deep in the depths below at one fell blow.

Captain Snaggs saw this sooner than any one; and, although all his
previous orders had been carried out in dumb show, from our now having
the wind with us to waft his voice forward, he once more managed to make
himself heard.

"Ahoy!" he shouted, putting his hands on either side of his mouth, to
carry the words well clear of his goatee beard, which was blown all over
his face.  "On deck, thaar!"

Tom Bullover raised his right fist, to show that he caught the hail; but
it was impossible for him to answer back in the very teeth of the gale.

"We must try an' lay her to," continued the skipper.  "Hev ye got a
tarpaulin, or airy sort o' rag ye ken stick in the fore-riggin'?"  Tom
nodded his head, understanding what the captain meant in a jiffey; and,
with the help of two or three others, a piece of fearnought, that lay in
the bottom of the long-boat, was quickly bundled out on the deck and
dragged forwards, the men bending on a rope's-end to a cringle worked in
one corner of the stuff, so as to hoist it up by.

"Over to port!  Over to port!" roared the skipper, seeing them making
for the lee side of the ship.  "I'm goin' to try an' bring her to on
thet tack, d'ye haar?"

Another nod from the carpenter showed that he heard and appreciated the
command, he and the group with him by great exertions tricing up the
piece of fearnought into the fore-shrouds on the side indicated,
spreading the cloth out and lashing it outside the rigging.

"Now, men," cried Captain Snaggs, "some o' ye aft hyar!  Look sharp an'
man the cro'jack braces."

"Dat vas goot," I heard Mr Jan Steenbock say behind me, his voice
coming right into my ear; "dat vas ze very tings!"

The skipper heard him, too.

"I guess ye're worth yer salt, an' knows what's what!" he screamed back,
with his face shoved into that of the second-mate, so that he should
catch the words.  "Stand by to cast off the clewlines agen, an' slack
out the weather sheet, if we wants it!"

"Aye, aye!" roared Jan Steenbock, in answer, jumping to the belaying
pins, to cast off the ropes as ordered.  "I vas dere!"

And so was I, too, following his example, ready to bear a hand when the
necessity arose.

"Send another hand or two hyar aft, to the wheel!" now yelled out the
captain, on seeing that Tom Bullover had marshalled the watch on the
deck below at the crossjack braces, ready to ease off on the weather
side, and haul in gradually to leeward--so that the yard should not be
jerked round suddenly, and risk carrying away the mizzen-top mast and
all its hamper with the shock; and, finally, with a motion of his arm,
which those at the wheel readily understood, he ordered the helm to be
put down.

It was a critical moment.

The ship seemed a trifle stubborn, and would not obey the rudder, lying
sluggishly in the trough of the sea for a while, but the tail end of a
big wave then catching her on the quarter, she slewed round a bit; and,
the crossjack yard being braced up sharply in the nick of time, she
swung with her head to the wind, breasting the billows full butt the
next instant, instead of drifting on at their will as before.

Jan Steenbock at once let go the clewlines; and the sheets of the
mizzen-topsail, which had already been close-reefed, being hauled home,
and the piece of fearnought in the fore-rigging acting as well as a sail
there would have done, the vessel was brought to lay-to at last, riding
safely enough, considering the heavy sea that was running, and thus
showing herself a staunch boat under very trying circumstances.

"We've seen the worst of it now," shouted the skipper, trying to rub his
hands together, in token of his satisfaction, but having to leave off
and grasp the poop rail to steady himself again from the ship pitching
so much, as she met the big waves tumbling in on her bows, and rose to
them buoyantly.  "The gale is moderating so the watch ken pipe down, I
guess, an' all hands splice the mainbrace!"

The men couldn't hear him clearly, but the gesture which he made, of
lifting his fist to his mouth, was sufficiently explanatory to all; and,
when he presently dived down the companion and appeared at the cabin
door under the break of the poop, with the steward behind him, holding a
bottle of rum in one hand and a pannikin in the other, the men who had
so gallantly exerted themselves were to be seen standing by, ready to
receive the customary grog always served out on each occasions, fresh
hands being sent up to relieve those at the wheel, so that these should
not lose the advantage of the skipper's generosity--which was somewhat
unexpected from one of his temper!

Later on, there was a glorious sunset, the black clouds all clearing
away, and the heavens glowing with red and gold, as the orb of day sank
below the horizon.

This showed that we were going to have the chance of a finer spell than
we had been having; and, the wind soon afterwards shifting to the
westward, the foretop-mast-staysail was hoisted, followed shortly by the
reefed-foresail and main-trysail, the skipper setting all the fore and
aft sail he could to make up for the loss of our topsails, which, it may
be remembered, were blown away.

The ship was then brought round on the starboard tack, and put on her
proper course again, for us to make another attempt to weather Cape
Horn.

By the time all this was done it was quite dark, and getting on close to
`six bells' in the second dog-watch, the sun sinking to rest early in
those latitudes; so, as none of the men had got their tea yet, or
thought of it, for that matter, although they'd had nothing since their
dinner at midday, Hiram Bangs, calling me to follow him, started for the
galley, to see about the coppers.

We found, however, that the seas we had taken aboard had washed the fire
out and made a regular wreck of the place, everything being turned
topsy-turvy and mixed up into a sort of "hurrah's nest."

Indeed, the only wonder was, that the galley itself had not been carried
incontinently over the side, when the ship had canted over on her
beam-ends; and, it would have been, no doubt, but for its being so
securely lashed down to the ringbolts in the deck--a precaution which
had saved it when everything else had been swept to leeward.

At all events, there it was still, but in a pretty pickle; and Hiram and
I had a hard job to light up the fire again under the coppers, all the
wood and coal that had not been fetched away by the sea being, of
course, wet and soddened by the water.

"I guess," said Hiram, after one or two failures to get the fuel to
ignite, in spite of his pouring a lot of oil on it, so as to neutralise
the effect of the damp, "I'll burn thet durned old kiver of my chest ez
got busted t'other day in the fo'c's'le; fur it ain't no airthly good,
ez I sees, fur to kip pryin' folk from priggin' airy o' my duds they
fancies!"

With this, Hiram started off for the fo'c's'le, taking one of the ship's
lanterns with him, to see what he was about.

He returned a minute or two after, looking quite scared.

"Say, Cholly," he exclaimed--addressing me as all the rest in the
fo'c's'le always styled me, following the mode, in which poor Sam
Jedfoot had pronounced my name, instead of calling me "Charley,"
properly, all darkeys having a happy facility for abbreviation, as I
quite forgot to mention before--"Say, Cholly, guess I'll kinder make yer
haar riz!  What d'yer reckon hez happened, b'y, hey?"

"What, Hiram?" replied I, negligently, not paying any particular
attention to his words, having started to work at once, chopping up the
box cover, which he had thrown down on the deck at my feet.  "What has
happened, Hiram--whatever is the matter now?"

"Thar's matter enuff, I reckon, younker," said he solemnly, in his deep,
impressive tones.  "Guess this air shep's sperrit-haunted, thet's all,
my b'y, an' the whole bilin' of us coons aboard air all doomed men!"



CHAPTER EIGHT.

MAD DRUNK!

"Good gracious, Hiram!"  I exclaimed, dropping the wood and rising to my
feet, greatly alarmed at his mysterious manner of speaking, as well as
by the change in his voice and demeanour.  "What d'you mean by talking
like that?"

Instead of answering my question directly, however, he asked another.

"D'yer rec'leck, Cholly, thet air banjo belongin' to Sam Jedfoot ez I
bought when the poor darkey's traps wer' sold at auction in the
fo'c's'le the day arter he wer lost overboard?"

"Ye-es," I stammered breathlessly, as the remembrance came back to me
all at once of the strange chaunt we had heard in the air around, just
before the storm had burst over us in all its fury; our subsequent
bustling about having banished its recollection for the moment, "Wha--
wha--what about Sam's banjo, Hiram?"

"It's clean gone, skedaddled right away, b'y, that's all!" he replied,
in the same impressive way in which he had first spoken.  "When I bought
the durned thin', I stowed it atop o' my chest thaar, in the fo'c's'le;
an' thaar it wer ez right ez a five-cent piece up to this very mornin',
ez I wer overhaulin' my duds, to see if I could rig up another pair o'
pants, an' seed it.  But, b'y, it ain't thaar now, I reckon!"

"Perhaps some one took it out, and forgot to put it back when the gale
burst over us," I suggested, more to reassure myself than because I
believed it, for I felt horribly frightened at the thoughts that rapidly
surged up in me.  "You--you remember, Hiram, we heard the sound of some
one playing it just before?"

"D'yer think, b'y, airy of the hands w'u'd hev ben foolin' round with
thet blessid banjo, an' the ship a'most took aback an' on her
beam-ends?" he retorted indignantly.  "No, Cholly, thet wer no mortal
fingers ez we heerd a-playin' thet thaar banjo!"

"And you--you--think--?"

"It wer Sam Jedfoot's ghost; nary a doubt on it," he said solemnly,
finishing my uncompleted sentence; "thet air, if sperrits walk agen on
the airth an' sea, arter the folk's ownin' them is dead an' drownded!"

I shivered at his words; while, as if to further endorse Hiram's
opinion, the steward, Morris Jones, just then came forward from the
cabin to look after the captain's dinner, although he did not seem in a
hurry about it, as usual--a fortunate circumstance, as the fire in the
galley under Hiram's expert manipulation was only now at last beginning
to burn up.

"There's summut wrong 'bout this barquey," observed the Welshman,
opening the conversation in a wonderfully civil way for him, and
addressing Hiram, who did not like the man, hardly ever exchanging a
word with him if he could help it.  "I larfed at that b'y Cholly for
saying he seed that nigger cook agen in the cabin arter he went
overboard, time the skipper had that row with the fool and shot him; but
sperrit or wot it was, I believe the b'y's right, for I've seed it,
too!"

"Jehosophat!" exclaimed Hiram; "this air gettin' darned streenge an'
cur'ous.  Whar did ye see the sperrit, mister?"

"Not a minute or so agone," replied the steward, whose face I could see,
by the light of the ship's lantern in the galley, as well as from the
gleams of the now brightly burning fire, looked awe-stricken, as if he
had actually seen what he attested.  "It was a'most dark, and I was
coming out of my pantry when I seed it.  Aye, I did, all black, and
shiny, and wet, as if he were jist come out o' the water.  I swear it
were the nigger cook, or I'm a Dutchman!"

The two men looked fixedly at each other, without uttering another word
for a minute or more, I staring at them both in dread expectancy of what
they would next say, fancying each instant something more wonderful
still would happen.  At last, Hiram broke the silence, which had become
well-nigh unbearable from a sort of nervous tension, that made me feel
creepy and shivery all over.

"I tolled yer jest now, Cholly," said the Yankee sailor in his
`Down-East' drawl, which became all the more emphasised from his slow
and solemn mode o' speaking below his breath--"thet this air shep wer
doomed, an' I sez it now agen, since the stooard hyar hez seed the same
ez we all hev seed afore.  Thaar's no denying b'ys, ez how poor Sam's
ghostess walks abroad this hyar ship, an' thet means sunthin', or it
don't!  I specs thet air darkey's sperrit ain't comf'able like, an' ye
ken bet y'r bottom dollar he won't rest quiet till he feels slick; fur
ye sees ez how the poor cuss didn't come by his death rightful like, in
lawful fashion."

"Aye, and I've heard tell that folks as been murdered 'll haunt the
place where they've been put away onlawfully," chimed in Morris Jones.
"Not as I've ever believed in sperrits and ghostesses till now; but,
seein' is believin', an' I can't go agen my own eyesight.  I'd take my
davy 'twere Sam Jedfoot I seed jest now; and though I'm no coward,
mates, I don't mind saying I'm mortal feared o' going nigh the cuddy
agen!"

"Never ye fear, old hoss," replied Hiram encouragingly; albeit, at any
other time he would have laughed at the steward's declaration that he
was `no coward,' when he was well known to be the most arrant one in the
ship.  "It ain't ye thet the ghost air arter, ye bet.  It's the skipper.
Ye remember ez how he promised us all he'd call in at the nearest port
an' hev all the circumferences overhauled, ez he sed?"

"Aye," responded the Welshman, "that he did.  He took his solemn davy,
afore the second-mate, an' Tom Bullover, an' the lot o' you, on the
maindeck, that time he shot the cook.  I heard him from under the break
o' the poop, where I were standin'."

"Yes, I seed ye keepin' well to looard!" said Hiram drily.  "But, ez I
wer a sayin', the skipper agrees to call in at the fust port we fetches,
an' we've b'en close in to Bahia, when we near ran ashore, an' Rio an'
Buenos Ayres; an' he's never put into no port yet!"

"No, nor doesn't mean to, neither," chorussed the steward.  "I hear him,
t'other day, a jokin' with that brute of a fust-mate about it; an' both
was a sniggerin': an' he says as he'll see you all to old Nick afore he
stops anywhere afore he gets to 'Frisco!"

"I reckon, then, sunthin' bad 'll come of it," said Hiram, shaking his
head gravely, "Thet nigger's sperrit don't haunt this ship fur nothin',
an' we ain't see the wuss yet, ye bet!  Soon arter Cholly hyar seed
Sam's ghost, ye remembers, we hed thet fire aboard in the forepeak?"

"Aye," agreed Morris Jones; "an' the next time--"

"Wer the banjo we heered a-playin', afore we were caught in thet buster
of a gale, an' the ship wer a'most capsized on her beam-ends," continued
the American, full of his theme.  "An' now, I guess--"

"What?" cried I eagerly, anxiously drinking in every word, deeply
impressed with the conversation.  "What do you think will happen?"

"'Ructions, thet's all, b'y," replied Hiram, hitching up the waistband
of his overalls coolly, in the most matter-of-fact way, as if he were
only mentioning an ordinary circumstances.  "Thet is, if the skipper
don't touch at Callao or Valparaiso.  Fur my part, sonny, I guess this
hyar ship air doomed, ez I sed afore, an' I don't spec, for one, as ever
she'll reach 'Frisco this v'yage; an' so thinks old Chips, Tom Bullover,
thet is, too."

"Hullo!" exclaimed the carpenter at that moment, poking his head within
the galley door, and making me and the Welshman jump with fright,
thinking he was Sam's ghost again.  "Who's hailing me?  What's the
row?--anything up?"

"No, bo," said Hiram.  "I wer only tellin' the stooard hyar an' Cholly
ez how yo agreed with me ez this wer a durned onlocky craft, an' bound
to meet with misfortun' arter all thet's come an' gone aboord."

"That's so," acquiesced Tom; though he did not look much alarmed at the
prospect.  "The `old man,' though, seems turnin' round into a better
sort--treating us all to grog and sich like."

"He'd kinder ought to," growled the other, as he stirred the tea in the
coppers, which were just boiling by now; and he then proceeded to tell
Tom about the mysterious disappearance of the banjo, and the fact of
Morris Jones having seen the apparition again in the cabin aft, winding
up with the query--"An' what d'ye think o' thet now, Chips?"

"Think?" echoed Tom Bullover, laughing; "why, that you're kicking up a
dust about nothing, my hearty!  Missed the banjo out of y'r chest, eh--
where are y'r eyes, bo?  There it are, hanging right over y'r heads in
the galley, on the same cleat where poor Sam Jedfoot left it afore he
met his fate!  Why, where are y'r peepers--old stick in the mud, hey?"

As he said this, Tom Bullover reached up his hand overhead by the door
of the galley, above the spot where he was standing, and as our eyes
followed his motions we all could see now Sam's banjo hanging on the
cleat where it always used to be when the negro cook occupied the
caboose, the instrument swinging to and fro as Tom touched it.

"Wa-all, I'm jiggered!" cried Hiram, taking up the lantern that he had
placed on the deck when he returned from the fo'c's'le and flashing it
on the suspended object, to make assurance doubly sure.  "Thaar it air,
sure enuff; an' all I ken say is, I'm jiggered!  It jest licks creation,
thet it dew!"

"Lor' bless you, mate! you could ha' seed it afore if you'd only used
your eyes," replied Tom to this exordium, laughing again; "but, let's
stow all such flummery now about ghostesses an' sich like, for it's all
moonshine when you looks into the matter; an' you, an' Charley, an' the
stooard here, have been all busy rigging up `duppies,' as poor Sam used
to call 'em, out o' your heads, when we poor beggars forrud are dyin'
for our tea.  Ain't it ready yet?"

"Aye, bo, in a brace o' shakes," said Hiram, rousing himself and polling
up the fire.  "I dessay I'm a doggoned fool to be skeart like thet, but
I'd hev taken my davy I put the durned thing in my chest a month ago--I
would so; an' then the stooard comed in with his yarn on top o' what
Cholly sed o' seein' Sam's ghost t'other day, an'--an' I'm a durned
fool; thet's all I sez!"

"You're none the worse for that, bo," observed Tom, with a grin at the
American's rather shamefaced apology foe his superstitious fears; and
Hiram presently joined in the laugh against himself, as he busied
himself in stirring the coppers and tasting the tea, to see whether it
was all right yet.  I, also, began to feel more comfortable in my mind;
while a little colour crept into Morris Jones' pale face, which had
become as white as a sheet before Tom's advent on the scene, the steward
looking as if he were going to faint from fright.

It is wonderful what an effect the courage of one man has in restoring
the confidence of others under such circumstances!

Bustling about the galley, ladling out the contents of the coppers as
the men came up one by one with their pannikins for their tea, I quickly
forgot my scare of a minute or so agone.  So, too, apparently, did the
steward, who commenced preparing the captain's dinner, as soon as the
fire had burnt up and he could get space enough to use his frying-pan;
while, as for Hiram, he was singing away in fine style at his work,
dishing up some lobscouse for the men's supper, in friendly rivalry of
Morris Jones, whom he could `give points to' and easily beat in the
cooking line, none of us troubling ourselves any longer with any
recollection of poor Sam Jedfoot or his ghost.

The gale continued to ease down, and the heavy, rolling sea gradually
subsided as night sped on; but, the wind veering round in the middle
watch more to the northwards of west, we had to come about on the port
tack, steering west-nor'-west, more in towards the Cape.  We had plenty
of sea room to do this, though, from the good offing we had previously
made, being at least five or six degrees well to the southward of the
stormy headland at our last reckoning, before the gale came on.

All next day the men were busy getting up a couple of old topsails out
of the forepeak and patching them up to take the place of those that had
been blown away; and these when got up were close-reefed beforehand,
prior to being set, as the wind was freshening again and the weather
looked squally.

At the beginning of the second dog-watch the same afternoon, just when
we had got everything snug aloft, it came on to blow again, although not
quite so fiercely as the previous evening; and it was a case of clew up
and furl with all the lighter canvas, the ship being kept under
close-reefed topsails and storm staysails, heading out again to sea on
the starboard tack.

Thus it continued all that night, squalls of rain and hail, with snow
and sleet at intervals for variety sake, sweeping over us, and the ship
having her decks washed frequently fore and aft by the heavy Southern
Ocean rollers.  The next morning, though, it lightened again, and we had
a brief spell of fine weather until noon, when we had another buster of
it.  This occurred just as Captain Snaggs was getting ready to take the
sun, and sent the first-mate down in the cabin to look at the
chronometer, and `stand by' in order to note the time when he sung out
`Stop!' so as to calculate our proper longitude.

The skipper could not get his observation of the sun, however, for the
sky, which a moment before had been bright and clear, clouded over again
in an instant; and the next minute we were all on board battling again
with another specimen of "Cape Horn weather," too busy to think even
where we might be or what latitude or longitude we had fetched.  We
might, indeed, have been anywhere, for the heavens were black as night,
though it was midday, and sky and sea met each other in one vast
turmoil, so that it was impossible to see half a cable's length off the
ship!

So it went on for four days, the gale blowing for short periods in angry
gusts and then easing down for the space of a watch perhaps, the squalls
alternating with spells of fine weather; until, on the fifth morning, we
sailed into a comparatively calm sea, running free, with a full sheet on
the starboard tack, before a bright, cheery nor'-westerly breeze.

At noon, when the skipper was able at last to take the sun for the first
time for six days, he found, on working out our reckoning, that we were
in latitude 58 degrees 5 minutes South, and longitude 82 degrees 10
minutes West.  In other words, we were considerably to the westwards of
the Horn, and fairly on the bosom of the placid Pacific, as indeed its
smooth waters already testified.

"Hooray, b'ys; we've doubled the durned Cape at last, I guess!" shouted
out Captain Snaggs from the break of the poop, whither he had rushed up
from below as soon as he had finished his calculation on the log slate,
dancing about the deck with excitement; and, then he banged his fist
down on the brass rail with a thump that almost doubled it in two, while
his wiry billy-goat beard bristled out and wagged to and fro.  "Brace up
yer yards sharp, an' keep them bowlin's taut!  Lay her ez near due north
ez she'll fetch, an' we'll fix her on a bee-line fur 'Frisco.  An', say,
Flinders!"

"Aye, aye, sir!"

"Send up y'r to'gallants an' r'yals, ez soon ez ye ken; an' let her
rip!"

"Aye, aye, sir!"

"An', main deck, below thaar!"

"Aye, aye, sir!" shouted back Jan Steenbock, who was on duty here, and
was already seeing about getting abaft the upper spars for spreading
more sail, having overheard his order to the first-mate--"I vas here,
sir!"

"Call all hands to liquor up, sirree.  It ain't every day, I reckon, we
gits round the Horn!"

A wild cheer burst from the men, who had clustered in the waist in
response to this summons; and the good news of getting round the Cape
and having a double allowance of grog proving too much for the majority,
the rest of the day was spent in a sort of a grand jollification, the
skipper and first-mate `carrying on' in the cabin, while the crew made
themselves merry in the fo'c's'le, whither an extra bottle or two of rum
had been smuggled, having been got out of the steward by the expeditive
of a little `palm oil' and wheedling in about equal proportions.

I think I may say, without exaggeration, that, with the exception of Jan
Steenbock, the second-mate, who showed himself a regular steady fellow
all through the voyage, Tom Bullover, and lastly, though by no means
least, myself, there was not a single sober man on board the ship that
evening, all being more or less under the influence of liquor, from the
steward Morris Jones--who, mean Welshman that he was, seemed never loth
to drink at any one else's expense--up to Captain Snaggs, who, from
being `jolly' at `eight bells,' became still more excited from renewed
applications of rum by midnight; until, at length, early in the middle
watch, he rushed out on deck from the cuddy absolutely mad drunk.

He was in a state of wild delirium, and his revolver, ready cocked, was
in his hand.

"Snakes an' alligators!" he yelled out, levelling the weapon at the
mainmast, which he mistook for a figure in the half-light of morning,
which was just then beginning to break.  "I've got ye at last, ye durned
nigger.  Take thet, an' thet!"

Quick as lightning one report followed another, the bullets coming
whistling by the galley where I was standing.

Jan Steenbock, who was on the poop, hearing the crack of a revolver,
called out something; whereupon Captain Snaggs turned round and aimed
his next shot at him, although, fortunately, it missed the second-mate,
on account of Jan dodging behind the companion hatchway just in the nick
of time.

The captain then made a bound at the poop ladder, and rushed up the
steps swearing awfully; and, first firing at the man at the wheel, whose
arm the bullet penetrated, as soon as he gained the poop, he dived down
the companion in pursuit of Jan Steenbock, who had disappeared below the
booby hatch.

For the next five minutes or more, the ship was in a state of the
wildest confusion, the skipper chasing everyone he could see, and all
trying to get out of his way, as he dashed after them in his frenzy,
rushing, in a sort of desperate game of `catch who catch can,' from the
cabin out on to the maindeck, and then up the poop ladder and down the
companion into the cuddy again, the second-mate, the steward, and
first-mate alike being assailed in turn, and each flying for life before
the frantic madman.  At last, just as the captain emerged from the cabin
for the third time, in hot haste after the steward, the other two having
succeeded in concealing themselves, Morris Jones stumbled against a coil
of rope by the mainmast bitts, and, his toe at the same time catching in
a ring bolt, he sprawled his length on the deck.

"Good Lord!" cried the unfortunate steward, panting out the words with
his failing breath.  "I'm a dead man!  I'm a dead man!"

"By thunder, ye air, ye durned black nigger!  Ye air, ez sure ez
snakes!" screamed the skipper, in his delirious rage, mistaking the
Welshman, as he had the others as well, for poor Sam, the recollection
of whom seemed strangely to haunt him the moment the rum got possession
of his senses.  "I've swan I'd shoot ye; so, hyar goes, me joker; y'r
last hour hez come, ye bet!"

With these words he pointed his revolver down at Morris Jones, as he lay
rolling on the deck at his feet, and fired.



CHAPTER NINE.

WRECKED!

Although they had not been called yet, for it was only `six bells,' the
watch below had been roused out by the commotion and wild cries and
yells that rang about the deck.  Every man Jack had tumbled up from
below, and they were all grouped about the fo'c's'le, hiding behind the
galley like myself, and watching the weird scene going on aft, which,
but for the maniacal rage of the captain and his murderous fury, would
have been almost comical in its main incidents.

It was a regular steeplechase: the frenzied man hunted those he was
after in and out of the cabin, and up the poop ladder, and down the
companion stairs, in turn, to begin again anew the same strange game,
that was amusing enough save to those personally concerned!

One of the hands, though, had his wits at work besides watching what was
going on; and this was Tom Bullover, my friend the carpenter.

He recollected what the steward had said on a former occasion of the
captain having had a fit of the horrors from excessive drinking; and,
although it was too late now to take away the skipper's revolver before
he could effect any mischief with it, there was still time to prevent
his doing any further harm.

So, Tom, with a coil of rope over his arm, stealthily made his way aft,
and just as Captain Snaggs aimed at the prostrate body of the steward
the carpenter threw a running bowline he had made in the rope round the
captain's shoulders, jerking him backwards at the very moment he fired
the revolver.  This caused the bullet to be diverted from its aim, for
it passed through the bulwarks, instead of perforating Morris Jones'
somewhat corpulent person.

The next instant, two or three more of the men going to Tom's
assistance, Captain Snaggs was dragged down on the deck, raging and
foaming at the mouth; when, binding him securely hand and foot, they
lifted him up and carried him into his cabin, where they strapped him
down in his cot, powerless to do any more injury to himself or anyone
else, until his delirium should be over.

As for the steward, he fainted dead away from fright; and it required a
good deal of shaking and rubbing on the part of Tom Bullover and Jan
Steenbock to bring him back to life again--the latter now coming out of
the cabin, holding a slip noose similar to that used by the carpenter in
snaring the skipper with, and evidently intended for the same purpose,
although a trifle too late to be of service then.

Captain Snaggs himself recovered his consciousness about noon the same
day, but did not have the slightest recollection of his mad orgy, the
only actual sufferers from which were Morris Jones, who really had been
more frightened than hurt, and the helmsman, Jim Chowder, who, in lieu
of having his arm broken, as he had at first cried out, had only a
slight bullet graze through the fleshy part of it; so, considering the
skipper fired off no less than five shots out of the six which his
revolver contained, it was a wonder more were not grievously wounded, if
not killed, when he ran a-muck like that!

When Hiram Bangs and I met in the galley, shortly after the row was
over, we both compared notes, the American saying that he'd been roused
up from sleep, not by the noise of the shooting or rampaging about the
deck, but by the sound of Sam's voice singing in the hold, and he knew
at once that some mischief was going to happen, "ez it allers did when
he heerd the durned ghostess afore!"

I declare he made me feel more alarmed by this remark than all that had
previously occurred, and I had to raise my eyes to assure myself that
Sam's banjo was yet hanging in its accustomed place over the door of the
galley, before I could go on with my task of getting the men's early
coffee ready, to serve out as soon as the watch was changed, `eight
bells' having been struck shortly before.

Tom Bullover, though, when presently he lounged up forward, and I told
him what Hiram said, only laughed.

"It's all stuff and nonsense, Charley," he chuckled out; "you an' Hiram
'll be the death of me some day, with your yarns o' ghostesses an' such
like.  The skipper didn't see no sperrit as you thinks when he got mad
this mornin'; it's all that cussed rum he took because he got round Cape
Horn.  Guess, as our mate here says, the rum `got round' him!"

Hiram laughed, too, at this.

"Heave ahead an' carry on, old hoss," he said; "I reckon ye won't riz my
dander, fur what I tells Cholly I knows for true, an' nuthin' 'll turn
me agen it.  Why, Tom, when I wer down Chicopee way--"

"Avast there, mate, an' give us some coffee," cried Tom, interrupting
him at this point, and some others of the crew coming up at the moment,
the conversation was not renewed, which I was not sorry for, Hiram's
talk about ghosts not being very cheerful.

During the day, as I've said, Captain Snaggs got better, and came on
deck again, looking like himself, but very pale.  His face, however,
seemed to have become wonderfully thinner in such a short space of time,
so thin indeed that he appeared to be all nose and beard, the two
meeting each other in the middle, like a pair of nut-crackers!

He was much quieter, too, for he did not swear a bit, as he would have
done before, at the man at the wheel, who, startled by his coming softly
up the companion without previous notice, when he fancied he was lying
in his cot, let the ship fall off so that she almost broached-to, in
such a way as almost to carry her spars by the board!

No, he did not utter a single harsh word.

"Steady thaar!" was all he called out; "kip her full an' by, an' steer
ez naar north ez ye ken!"

This was about the beginning of July, and we had from then bright
weather, with westerly and nor'-west winds all the way up the Pacific,
past the island of Juan Fernandez, which we saw like a haze of green in
the distance.

After this, making to cross the Equator for the second time--our first
time being in the Atlantic Doldrums--somewhere between the meridians 100
degrees to 102 degrees, we proceeded on steadily northward, picking up
the south-east trade-winds in about latitude 20 degrees South, when
nearly opposite Arica on the chart, although, of course, out of sight of
land, being more than a couple of hundred leagues away from the nearest
part of the coast.

In about twenty days' time we got near the Equator, when we met with
variable winds and calms, while a strong indraught sucked us out of our
course into the Bay of Panama.

The temperature just then grew very hot, and the captain, taking to
drinking again, soon recovered his spirits and his temper, which had
latterly grown so smooth and equable that we hardly knew him for the
same man.

In a short space, however, the rum fully restored him to his old
quarrelsome self, and he and the first-mate, Mr Flinders, had an awful
row one night, when the skipper threatened to send the mate forward and
promote Jan Steenbock in his place.  Captain Snaggs had never forgiven
him for the cowardice and want of sailorly instinct he displayed at the
time of the alarm of fire in the forepeak; and the fact also of Mr
Flinders having lain for two days drunk in his bunk after their
jollification on rounding Cape Horn, did not tend to impress the skipper
any the more strongly in his favour.

I remember the evening well.

It was on the 28th July.

We were becalmed, I recollect; but, in spite of this, a strong set of
tide, or some unknown current, was carrying us, in a west-nor'-west
direction, away out of the Bay of Panama, at the mouth of which we had
been rolling and roasting in the broiling tropical sun for a couple of
days, without apparently advancing an inch on our way northwards towards
San Francisco, our destination, which we were now comparatively near, so
to speak, but still separated by a broad belt of latitude of between
eighteen hundred and two thousand miles--a goodish stretch of water!

I also remember well that Captain Snaggs roared so loudly to the mate
and the mate back to him during their altercation in the cuddy that we
on deck could hear every word they said; for, the night was hot and
close, with never a breath of wind stirring, and the air had that
oppressive and sulphurous feel which it always has when there is thunder
about or some great atmospherical change impending.

The skipper and Mr Flinders were arguing about the ship's course, the
former declaring it to be right, and the latter as vehemently to be
altogether wrong.

The mate, so opposite were their opinions, said that if we sailed on
much longer in the same direction towards which the ship had been
heading before being becalmed, she would be landed high and dry ashore
at Guayaquil; while the skipper, as strongly, protested that we were
already considerably to the northward of the Galapagos Islands.

"Ye're a durned fule, an' a thunderin' pig-headed fule ez well," we
heard the captain say to the other, as he came up the companion, roaring
back behind him; "but, jest to show ye how thunderin' big a fule ye air,
I'll jest let ye hev y'r own way--though, mind ye, if the ship comes to
grief, ye'll hev to bear all the muss."

"I don't mind thet, nary a red cent," boasted the other in his sneering
way.  "Guess I've a big enuff pile to hum, out Chicago way, to buy up
ship an' cargy ez well!"

"Guess ye shall hev y'r way, bo!" then yelled out the skipper, calling
at the same time to the helmsman to ease the helm off, as well as to the
watch to brace round the yards; and the light land breeze, just then
coming off from shore, made the _Denver City_ head off at right angles
to her previous course, the wash of water swishing pleasantly past her
bows, as her sails bellied out for a brief spell.

But, not for long.

Within the next half-hour or so the heavens, which had previously been
bright with myriads of stars overhead, became obscured with a thick
darkness, while the slight land breeze slowly died away.

Then, a hoarse, rumbling sound was heard under the sea, and the ship was
violently heaved up and down in a sort of quick, violent rocking motion,
unlike any thing I had ever felt, even in the heaviest storm.

"An airthquake, I guess," said Captain Snaggs, nonchalantly; "thet is,
if thaar's sich a thing ez an airthquake at sea!"

He sniggered over this joke; but, just then, I heard the same strange,
weird music, like Sam's banjo, played gently in the distance, similarly
to what we heard before the burst of the storm off Cape Horn.

"Lord, save us!" cried the captain, in hoarse accents of terror.  "Thaar
it air agen!"

Even as he spoke, however, the ship seemed to be lifted aloft on a huge
rolling wave, that came up astern of us without breaking; and, then,
after being carried forwards with wonderful swiftness, she was hurled
bodily on the shore of some unknown land near, whose outlines we could
not distinguish through the impenetrable darkness that now surrounded us
like a veil.

We knew we were ashore, however, for we could feel a harsh, grating
noise under the vessel's keel.

Still, beyond and above this noise, I seemed yet to hear the wild, sad
chaunt that haunted us.

There was a light hung in the galley, and I looked in again to see if
the negro's banjo was in its accustomed place, so as to judge whether
the sound was due to my imagination or not.

Holding up the lantern, I flashed its light across the roof of the
galley.

I could hardly believe my eyes.

Sam's banjo was no longer there!



CHAPTER TEN.

ABINGDON ISLAND.

After the first grating, grinding shock of going ashore, the ship did
not bump again; but, listing over to port, she settled down quietly,
soon working a sort of cradle bed for herself in the sand at the spot
where she stranded.

This, at least, was our conclusion, from the absence of any subsequent
motion or movement on board, the deck being as steady now as any
platform on dry land, although rather downhill on one side, from the
vessel heeling as she took the ground.

However, it was all guess work, as we could see nothing, not even our
own faces, save when brought immediately under the light of the galley
lantern, around which all the hands forward were closely huddled
together, like a drove of frightened sheep; for, the darkness could be
almost felt, as it hung over the ill-fated _Denver City_, a thick,
impenetrable, black pall, that seemed ominous of evil and further
disaster.

This continued for nearly an hour; the men near me only speaking in
hushed whispers, as if afraid of hearing their own voices.

The fact of not being able to see any fresh peril or danger that might
be impending over us, and so face it manfully, in the manner customary
with sailor-folk with any grit in them, took away the last lingering
remnant of courage even of the bravest amongst us; and I'm confident
there was not a single foremast hand there of the lot grouped by the
galley and under the break of the fo'c's'le, not excepting either Tom
Bullover or the American sailor, Hiram, plucky as both were in ordinary
circumstances, but was as panic-stricken, could their inmost feelings be
disclosed and the truth out-told, as myself--although I was too dazed
with terror to think of this then.

And so we remained, awaiting we knew not what, coming from we knew not
where, in terrible uncertainty and dread expectancy.

Anything might happen now, we thought, still more awful than what had
already occurred; for the gloomy stillness and mysterious mantle of
darkness that had descended on us increased our fears and suggested
every weird possibility, until the prolonged suspense became well-nigh
maddening.

"I'm durned if I ken stand this much longer," I heard Hiram whisper
hoarsely, as if uttering his thoughts aloud, for he addressed no one in
particular.  "Guess I'll jump overboard an' drown myself, fur the
devil's in the shep, an' thaar's a cuss hangin' over her!"

A shuffling sound of feet moving on the deck followed, as if the poor,
distraught fellow was about to carry his senseless and wicked design
into execution; and then I caught the tones of Tom Bullover's voice also
coming out from amidst the surrounding gloom.

"Hush, avast there!" cried the latter solemnly.  "Is this a time for
running in the face of your Maker, when in another minute or two we may
all be mustered afore Him in eternity?  Besides, bo, what's the use o'
jumping overboard, when you couldn't get drownded? for the ship's hard
and fast ashore!"

Before Hiram could reply to this, or make any further movement, a shout
rang out from the poop aft, where previously all had been as still as
with us forwards, wrapped in the same impenetrable darkness and deathly
silence.

I recognised Jan Steenbock at once as the person hailing us.

"Land, ho!" he exclaimed; "I sees him!  It vas lighten oop, and I sees
him on ze port bow!"

As the second-mate spoke, there was a perceptible movement of the heavy,
close atmosphere, which had hitherto been still and sultry, like what it
generally is during a thunderstorm, or when some electrical disturbance
is impending in the air.  Then, the land breeze sprang up again, the
wind, first coming in little puffs and subsequently settling down into a
steady breeze off shore, and the heavy curtain of black vapour that had
previously enveloped us began to drift away to leeward, enabling us
after a bit to see the ship's position and our surroundings--albeit all
was yet wrapped in the semi-darkness of night, as it was close on eleven
o'clock.

The frowning outlines of a big mountain towered up above the vessel's
masts on our left or port bow, hazy and dark and grim, and on the
starboard hand a jutting point of land, evidently a spur of the same
cliff, projected past the _Denver City_ a long way astern, for we could
distinguish the white wash of the sea on the sand at its base; while,
right in front, nearly touching our bowsprit, was a mass of trees, whose
dusky skeleton branches were waved to and fro by the tropical night
breeze, making them appear as if alive, their mournful whishing as they
swayed bearing out this impression.

It seemed, at first glance, that the ship had been driven ashore into a
small land-locked bay, no outlet being to be seen save the narrow
opening between the cliffs astern through which she had been carried by
the wave that stranded us--fortunately, without dashing us on the rocks
on either hand.

As we gazed around in startled wonder, striving to take in all the
details of the strange scene, the misty, brooding vapour lifted still
further, and a patch of sky cleared overhead.  Through this opening the
pale moon shone down, illuminating the landscape with her sickly green
light; but she also threw such deep shadows that everything looked weird
and unreal, the perspective being dwarfed here and magnified there to so
great an extent that the ship's masts appeared to touch the stars, while
the men on the fo'c's'le were transformed into giants, their forms being
for the moment out of all proportion to their natural size, as they
craned their necks over the head rail.

Jan Steenbock's voice from the poop at this juncture recalled my
wandering and wondering imagination to the more prosaic and practical
realities of our situation, which quickly put to flight the ghostly
fancies that had previously crowded thick and fast on my mind.

"Vo'c's'le ahoy!" shouted the second-mate, his deep, manly tones at once
putting fresh courage into all of us, and making the men pull themselves
together and start up eager for action, abandoning all their craven
fears.  "How vas it mit yous vorvarts!  Ze sheep, I zink, vas in ze deep
vater astern."

"I'll soon tell you, sir," cried Tom Bullover in answer, jumping to the
side in a jiffey, with a coil of the lead line, which he took from the
main chains, where it was fastened.  "I'll heave the lead, and you shall
have our soundings in a brace of shakes, sir!"

With that he clambered into the rigging, preparatory to carrying out his
intention; but he had no sooner got into the shrouds than he discovered
his task was useless.

"There's no need to sound, sir," he sang out; "the ship's high and dry
ashore up to the foremast, and there ain't more than a foot or two of
water aft of that, as far as I can see."

"Thunder!" roared out the skipper, who had in the meantime come up again
on the poop from the cuddy, where he and the first-mate had no doubt
been drowning their fright during the darkness with their favourite
panacea, rum, leaving the entire control of the ship after she struck to
Jan Steenbock.  "Air thet so?"

"I says what I sees," replied Tom Bullover brusquely, he, like most of
the hands, being pretty sick by now of the captain's drunken ways, and
pusillanimous behaviour in leaving the deck when the vessel and all on
board were in such deadly peril; "and if you don't believe me, why, you
can look over the side and judge where the ship is for yerself!"

Captain Snaggs made no retort; but, moving to the port bulwarks from the
companion hatchway, where he had been standing, followed Tom's
suggestion of looking over the side, which indeed all of us, impelled by
a similar curiosity, at once did.

It was as my friend the carpenter had said.

The _Denver City_ was for more than two-thirds of her length high and
dry ashore on a sandy beach, that looked of a brownish yellow in the
moonlight, with her forefoot resting between two hillocks covered with
some sort of scrub.  This prevented her from falling over broadside on,
as she was shored up just as if she had been put into dry dock for
caulking purposes; although, unfortunately, she was by no means in such
a comfortable position, nor were we on board either, as if she had been
in a shipbuilder's yard, with more civilised surroundings than were to
be found on a desert shore like this!

Her bilge abaft under the mizzen-chains was just awash; and, the water,
deepening from here, as the shore shelved somewhat abruptly, was about
the depth of four fathoms or thereabouts by the rudder post, where the
bottom could be seen, of soft, shining white sand, without a rock in
sight--so far, at least, as we were able to notice in the pale greenish
moonlight, by which we made our observations as well as we could, and
with some little difficulty, too.

"Guess we're in a pretty tight fix," said Captain Snaggs, after peering
up and down alongside for some time, Tom Bullover in the interim taking
the hand lead with him on to the poop and sounding over the taffrail at
the deepest part.  "We can't do nuthin', though, I reckon, till
daylight, an' ez we're hard an' fast, an' not likely to float off, I'll
go below an' turn in till then.  Mister Steenbock, ye'd better pipe the
hands down an' do ditter, I guess, fur thaar's no use, I ken see, in
stoppin' up hyar an' doin' nuthin'."

"Yous can go below; I vill keep ze vatch," replied the second-mate, with
ill-concealed contempt, as the skipper shuffled off down the companion
way again, back to his orgy with the equally drunken Flinders, who had
not once appeared on deck, after perilling the ship through his
obstinacy in putting her on the course that had led to our being driven
ashore.

The very first shock of the earthquake, indeed, which we felt before the
tidal wave caught us, had been sufficient to frighten him from the poop
even before the darkness enveloped us and the final catastrophe came!

As for Jan Steenbock, he remained walking up and down the deck as
composedly as if the poor _Denver City_ was still at sea, instead of
being cooped up now, veritably, like a fish out of water, on dry land.

He did not abandon his post, at any rate!

After a while, though, he acted on the skipper's cowardly advice so far
as to tell the starboard watch to turn in, which none of the men were
loth to do, for the moon was presently obscured by a thick black cloud,
and a torrent of heavy tropical rain quickly descending made most of us
seek shelter in the fo'c's'le.

Here I soon fell asleep, utterly wearied out, not only from standing
about so long, having been on my legs ever since the early morning when
I lit the galley fire, but also quite overcome with all the excitement I
had gone through.

I awoke with a start.

The sun was shining brightly through the open scuttle of the fo'c's'le
and it was broad daylight.

It was not this that had roused me, though; for, habituated as I now was
to the ways of sailor-folk, it made little difference to me whether I
slept by day or night so long as I had a favourable opportunity for a
comfortable caulk.  Indeed, my eyes might have been `scorched out,' as
the saying is, without awaking me.

It was something else that aroused me,--an unaccustomed sound which I
had not heard since I left home and ran away to sea.

It was the cooing of doves in the distance.

"Roo-coo-coo!  Roo-coo-coo!  Coo-coo!  Roo-c-o-o!"

I heard it as plainly as possible, just as the plaintive sound used to
catch my ear from the wood at the back of the vicarage garden in the old
times, when I loved to listen to the bird's love call--those old times
that seemed so far off in the perspective of the past, and yet were only
two years at most agone!

Why, I must be dreaming, I thought.

But, no; there came the soft, sweet cooing of the doves again.

"Roo-coo-coo!  Roo-coo-coo!  Coo-coo!  Roo-c-o-o!"

Thoroughly roused at last, I jumped out of the bunk I occupied next
Hiram, who was still fast asleep, with a lot of the other sailors round
him snoring in the fo'c's'le; and rubbing my eyes with both knuckles, to
further convince myself of being wide awake, I crawled out from the
fore-hatchway on to the open deck.

But, almost as soon as I stepped on my feet, I was startled, for all the
starboard side, which was higher than the other, from the list the ship
had to port, was covered, where the rain had not washed it away, with a
thick deposit of brown, sandy loam, like snuff; while the scuppers aft,
where everything had been washed by the deluge that had descended on the
decks, were choked up with a muddy mass of the same stuff, forming a big
heap over a foot high.  I could see, too, that the snuffy dust had
penetrated everywhere, hanging on the ropes, and in places where the
rain had not wetted it, like powdery snow, although of a very different
colour.

Recollecting the earthquake of the previous evening, and all that I had
heard and read of similar phenomena, I ascribed this brown, dusty
deposit to some volcanic eruption in the near neighbourhood.

This, I thought, likewise, was probably the cause, as well, of the
unaccountable darkness that enveloped the ship at the time we
experienced the shock; but, just then, I caught, a sight of the land
over the lee bulwarks, and every other consideration was banished by
this outlook on the strange scene amidst which we were so wonderfully
placed.

If our surroundings appeared curious by the spectral light of the moon
last night, they seemed doubly so now.

The glaring tropical sun was blazing already high up in the heavens,
whose bright blue vault was unflecked by a scrap of cloud to temper the
solar rays, while a brisk breeze, blowing in from the south-west, gave a
feeling of freshness to the air and raised a little wave of surf, that
broke on the beach with a rippling splash far astern; the cooing of the
doves in the distance chiming in musically with the lisp of the surge's
lullaby.

But, the land!

It was stranger than any I had ever seen.

The high mountain on our left, looked quite as lofty by day as it had
done the night before, two thousand feet or more of it towering up into
the sky.

It was evidently the crater peak of an old extinct volcano; for, it was
shaped like a hollow vase, with the side next the sea washed away by the
south-west gales, which, as I subsequently learnt, blew during the rainy
season in the vicinity of this equatorial region.

At the base of the cliff was a mound of lava, interspersed with tufts of
tufa and grass, that spread out to where the sloping, sandy beach met
it; and this was laved further down by the transparent water of the
little sheltered harbour formed by the outer edge of the peak and the
other lower projecting cliff that extended out into the sea on the
starboard side of the ship--the two making a semicircle and almost
meeting by the lava mound at the base of the broken crater, there not
being more than a couple of cables length between them.

Most wonderful to me was the fact of the ship having been carried so
providentially through such a narrow opening, without coming to grief on
the Scylla on the one hand, or being dashed to pieces against the
Charybdis on the other.

More wonderful still, though, was the sight the shore presented, as I
moved closer to the gangway, and, looking down over the bulwarks,
inspected the foreground below.

It was like a stray vista of some antediluvian world.

Near the edge of the white sand--on which the ship was lying like a
stranded whale, with her prow propped up between two dunes, or hillocks,
that wore up to the level of her catheads--was a row of stunted trees
without a leaf on them, only bare, skeleton branches; while on the other
side of these was a wide expanse of barren brown earth, or lava, utterly
destitute of any sign of vegetation.

Then came a grove of huge cacti, whose fleshy, spiked branches had the
look of so many wooden hands, or glove stretchers, set up on end; and
beyond these again were the more naturally-wooded heights, leading up to
the summit of the mountain peak.

The trees, I noticed, grew more luxuriantly and freely here, appearing
to be of much larger size, as they increased their distance from the
sterile expanse of the lower plain; until, at the top of the ascent,
they formed a regular green crest covering the upper edge of the crater
and sloping side of the outstretching arm of cliff on our right, whose
mantle of verdure and emerald tone contrasted pleasantly with the bright
blue of the sky overhead and the equally blue sea below, the latter
fringed with a line of white surf and coral sand along the curve of the
shore.

This outer aspect of the scene, however, was not all.

Right under my eyes, waddling along the beach, and rearing themselves on
their hind legs to feed on the leaves of the cactus, which they nibbled
off in huge mouthfuls, were a lot of enormous tortoises, or land
turtles, of the terrapin tribe, that were really the most hideous
monsters I had ever seen in my life.  Several large lizards also were
crawling about on the lava and basking in the sun, and a number of
insects and queer little birds of a kind I never heard of.

All was strange; for, although I could still catch the cooing of the
doves away in the woods in the distance, there was nothing familiar to
my sight near.

While I was reflecting on all these wonders, and puzzling my brains as
to where we could possibly be, the second-mate, whom I had noticed still
on the poop when I came out from the fo'c's'le, as if he had remained up
there on watch all night, came to my side and addressed me.

"Everyzing's sdrange, leedel boys, hey?"

"Yes, sir," said I.  "I was wondering what part of the world we could be
in."

"Ze Galapagos," he replied laconically, answering my question off-hand,
in his solemn fashion and deep voice.  "It vas call't ze Galapagos vrom
ze Spanish vort dat mean ze big toordles, zame dat yous zee dere."

"Then Captain Snaggs was right after all, sir, about the ship's course
yesterday, when he said that Mr Flinders would run us ashore if it was
altered?"

"Yase, dat vas zo," said Jan Steenbock.  "Dat voorst-mate one big vool,
and he vas loose ze sheep!  Dis vas ze Abingdon Islants, leedel boys--
one of ze Galapagos groups.  I vas recollecks him.  I vas here befores.
It vas Abingdon Islants; and ze voorst-mate is von big vool!"

As Jan Steenbock made this observation, a trifle louder than before, I
could see the face of Mr Flinders, all livid with passion, as he came
up the companion hatch behind the Dane.

"Who's thet durned cuss a-calling o' me names?  I guess, I'll
spifflicate him when I sees him!" he yelled out at the pitch of his
voice; and then pretending to recognise Jan Steenbock for the first time
as his detractor, he added, still more significantly, "Oh, it air you,
me joker, air it?"



CHAPTER ELEVEN.

SETTLING MATTERS.

"Yase, it vas me," said Jan Steenbock, at once turning round and
confronting the other, not in the least discomposed by his sudden
appearance, and speaking in his usual slow, deliberate way.  "I zays to
ze leedel boys here you's von big vool, and zo you vas!"

"Tarnation!" exclaimed Mr Flinders, stepping out on to the deck over
the coaming of the booby hatch, and advancing in a threatening manner
towards the Dane, who faced him still imperturbably.  "Ye jest say thet
agen, mister, an' I'll--"

The second-mate did not wait for him to finish his sentence.

"I zays you's von big vool, the biggest vool of all ze vools I vas
know," he cried in his deep tones.  Every word sounded distinctly and
trenchantly, with a sort of sledge-hammer effect, that made the Yankee
mate writhe again.  "But, my vren', you vas badder dan dat, vor you vas
a droonken vool, and vas peril ze sheep and ze lifes of ze men aboord
mit your voolness and ze rhum you vas trink below, mitout minting your
duty.  Oh, yase, you vas more bad dan one vool, Mister Vlinders; I vas
vatch yous ze whole of ze voyage, and I spik vat I zink and vat I zees!"

"Jee-rusalem, ye white-livered Dutchman!" screamed out the other, now
white with rage, and with his eyes glaring like those of a tiger, as he
threw out his arms and rushed at Jan Steenbock, "I'll give ye goss fur
ev'ry lyin' word ye hev sed agen me, ye bet.  I'm a raal Down-East
alligator, I am, ye durned furrin reptyle!  Ye'll wish ye wer never
rizzed or came athwart my hawse, my hearty, afore I've plugged ye out
an' done with ye, bo, I guess; for I'm a regular screamer from Chicago,
I am, an' I'll wipe the side-walk with ye, I will!"

This was `tall talk,' as Hiram remarked, he and several others of the
crew having turned out from their bunks by this time, roused by the
altercation, all gathering together in the waist, full of interest and
expectancy at witnessing such an unwonted treat as a free fight between
their officers.  But, the first-mate's brave words, mouth them out as he
did with great vehemence and force of expression, did not frighten the
stalwart Dane, self-possessed and cool to the last, one whit.

No, not a bit of it.

Quietly putting himself into an easy position of defence, with his right
arm guarding his face and body, Jan Steenbock, throwing out his left
fist with a rapidity of movement quite unexpected in one of his slow,
methodical demeanour, caught the blustering Yankee, as he advanced on
him with hostile thoughts intent, full butt between the eyes, the blow
being delivered straight from the shoulder and having sufficient
momentum to have felled an ox.

At all events, it was enough for Mr Flinders.

Whack!

It resounded through the ship; and, uttering a half-stifled cry, the
mate measured his length along the deck, the back of his head knocking
against the planks with a sound that seemed to be the echo of the blow
that brought him low, though softer and more like a thud--tempered and
toned down, no doubt, by the subduing effect of distance!

This second assault on his thick skull, however, instead of stunning
him, as might have been imagined, appeared to bring the mate back to
consciousness, and roused him indeed to further action; for, scrambling
up from his recumbent position, with his face showing unmistakable marks
of the fray already, and his eyes not glaring quite so much, for they
were beginning to close up, he got on his feet again, and squared up to
Jan Steenbock, with his arms swinging round like those of a windmill.

He might just as well have tried to batter down a stone wall, under the
circumstances, as endeavour to break down the other's guard by any such
feeble attempt, although both were pretty well matched as to size and
strength.

Jan paid no attention to his roundabout and random onslaught, fending
off his ill-directed blows easily enough with his right arm, which was
well balanced, a little forward across his chest, protecting him from
every effort of his enemy.

He just played with him for a minute, during which the Yankee mate,
frothing with fury and uttering all sorts of terrible threats, that were
as powerless to hurt Jan as his pointless attack, danced round his
watchful antagonist like a pea on a hot griddle; and then, the Dane,
tired at length of the fun, advancing his left, delivered another
terrific drive from the shoulder that tumbled Mr Flinders backwards
under the hood of the booby hatch, where he nearly floored Captain
Snaggs, on his way up from the cuddy--the skipper having been also
aroused by the tumult, the scene of the battle being almost immediately
over his swinging cot, and the concussion of the first-mate's head
against the deck having awakened him before his time, which naturally
did not tend to improve his temper.

"Hillo, ye durned Cape Cod sculpin!" he gasped out, Mr Flinders'
falling body having caught him full in the stomach and knocked all the
wind out of him.  "Thet's a kinder pretty sorter way to come tumblin'
down the companion, like a mad bull in fly time!  What's all this
infarnal muss about, hey?"

So shouting, between his pauses to take breath, the skipper shoved the
mate before him out of the hatchway, repeating his question again when
both had emerged on the poop.  "Now, what's this infarnal muss about,
hey?"

Taken thus in front and rear Mr Flinders hardly knew what to say,
especially as Jan Steenbock's fist had landed on his mouth, loosening
his teeth and making the blood flow, his countenance now presenting a
pitiable spectacle, all battered and bleeding.

"The--the--thet durned skallawag thaar hit me, sirree," he stammered and
stuttered, spitting out a mouthful of blood and a couple of his front
teeth, which had been driven down his throat almost by Jan Steenbock's
powerful blow.  "He--he tried to--to take my life.  He did so, cap.
But, I guess I'll be even with him, by thunder!--I'll soon rip my bowie
inter him, an' settle the coon; I will so, you bet!"

Mr Flinders fumbled at his waistbelt as he spoke, trying to pull out
the villainous-looking, dagger-hilted knife he always carried there,
fixed in a sheath stuck inside the back of his trousers; but his rage
and excitement making his hand tremble with nervous trepidation, Captain
Snaggs was able to catch his arm in time and prevent his drawing the
ugly weapon.

"No ye don't, mister; no ye don't, by thunder! so long's I'm boss hyar,"
cried the skipper.  "Ef ye fits aboord my shep, I reckon ye'll hev to
fit fair, or else reckon up with Ephraim O Snaggs; yes, so, mister,
thet's so.  I'll hev no knifing aboord my ship!"

The captain appeared strangely forgetful of his own revolver practice in
the case of poor Sam Jedfoot, and also of his having ran a-muck and
nearly killed the helmsman and Morris Jones, the steward, thinking he
was still in pursuit of the negro cook--which showed the murderous
proclivities of his own mind, drunk or sober.  However, all the same, he
stopped the first-mate now from trying to use his knife; although the
latter would probably have come off the worst if he had made another
rush at Jan Steenbock, who stood on the defence, prepared for all
emergencies.

"No, ye don't.  Stow it, I tell ye, or I'll throttle ye, by thunder!"
said the skipper, shaking Mr Flinders in his wiry grasp like a terrier
would a rat; while, turning to Jan, he asked: "An' what hev ye ter say
about this darned muss--I s'pose it's six o' one an' half-dozen o'
t'other, hey?"

"Misther Vlinders vas roosh to sthrike me, and I vas knock hims down,"
said Jan Steenbock, in his laconic fashion.  "He vas get oop and roosh
at me vonce mores, and I vas knock hims down on ze deck again; and zen,
you vas coom oop ze hatchway, and dat vas all."

"But, confound ye!" cried the other, putting in his spoke, "you called
me a fule fust!"

"So ye air a fule," said Captain Snaggs, "an' a tarnation fule, too, I
reckon--the durndest fule I ever seed; fur the old barquey wouldn't be
lyin' hyar whaar she is, I guess, but fur yer durned pigheadedness!"

"Zo I vas zay," interposed Jan Steenbock.  "I das tell hims it vas all
bekos he vas one troonken vool dat we ras wreck, zir."

"Ye never sed a truer word, mister," replied the skipper, showing but
little sympathy for Mr Flinders, whom he ordered to go below and wash
his dirty face, now the `little unpleasantness' between himself and his
brother mate was over.  "Still, hyar we air, I guess, an' the best thing
we ken do is ter try an' get her off.  Whaar d'yer reckon us to be,
Mister Steenbock, hey?"

"On ze Galapagos," answered the second-mate modestly, in no ways puffed
up by his victory over the other or this appeal to his opinion by
Captain Snaggs, who, like a good many more people in the world,
worshipped success, and was the first to turn his back on his own
champion when defeated.  "I zink ze sheep vas shtruck on Abingdon
Island.  I vas know ze place, cap'n; oh, yase, joost zo!"

"Snakes an' alligators, mister!  Ye doan't mean ter say ye hev been hyar
afore, hey?"

"Ja zo, cap'n," replied Jan Steenbock, in his slow and matter-of-fact
way, taking he other's expression literally; "but dere vas no shnake,
dat I vas zee, and no alligator.  Dere vas nozings but ze terrapin
tortoise and ze lizards on ze rocks!  I vas here one, doo, dree zummers
ago, mit a drading schgooner vrom Guayaquil after a cargo of ze orchilla
weed, dat fetch goot price in Equador.  I vas sure it vas Abingdon
Islant vrom dat tall big peak of montane on ze port side dat vas cal't
Cape Chalmers; vor, we vas anchor't to looard ven we vas hunting for ze
weed orchilla and ze toordles."

"Oh, indeed," said the skipper.  "I'll look at the chart an' take the
sun at noon, so to kalkerlate our bearin's; but I guess ye're not fur
out, ez I telled thet dodrotted fule of a Flinders we'd be safe ter run
foul o' the cussed Galapagos if we kept thet course ez he steered!
Howsomedever, let's do sunthin', an' not stan' idling hyar no longer.
Forrad, thaar, ye lot o' star-gazin', fly-catchin' lazy lubbers! make it
eight bells an' call the watch to sluice down decks!  Ye doan't think,
me jokers, I'm goin' to let ye strike work an' break articles 'cause the
shep's aground, do ye?  Not if I knows it, by thunder!  Stir yer stumps
an' look smart, or some o' ye'll know the reason why!"

This made Tom Bullover and the other hands bustle about on the
fo'c's'le, although buckets had to be lowered over the side aft to wash
down the decks with, so as to clear away all the volcano dust that was
still lying about, for the head-pump could not be used as usual on
account of the forepart of the ship being high and dry.

Meanwhile, Hiram and I busied ourselves in the galley, blowing up the
fire and getting the coffee ready for breakfast, so that ere long things
began to look better.

The sun by this time was more than half-way up overhead, but as a steady
south-west breeze was blowing in still from the sea right across our
quarter, for the ship was lying on the sand with her bowsprit pointing
north by west, the temperature was by no means so hot as might have been
expected from the fact of our being so close to the Equator; and so,
after our morning meal was over, the skipper had all hands piped to
lighten the vessel, in order to prepare her for our going afloat again.

Captain Snaggs took the precaution, however, of getting out anchors
ahead and astern, so as to secure her in her present position, so that
no sudden shift of wind or rise of the tide might jeopardise matters
before everything was ready for heaving her off, the sheet and starboard
bower being laid out in seven-fathom water, some fifty yards aft of the
rudder post, in a direct line with the keel, so that there should be as
little difficulty as possible in kedging her.  These anchors were
carried out to sea by a gang of men in the jolly-boat, which was let
down amidships just where we were awash, by a whip and tackle rigged up
between the main and crossjack yards for the purpose.

By the time this was done, from the absence of any shadow cast by the
sun, which was high over our mastheads, it was evidently close on to
noon; so, the skipper brought his sextant and a big chart he had of the
Pacific on deck, spreading the latter over the cuddy skylight, while he
yelled out to the dilapidated Mr Flinders, who was repairing damages
below, to watch the chronometer and mark the hour when he sang out.

Captain Snaggs squinted through the eye-glass of his instrument for a
bit with the sextant raised aloft, as if he were trying to stare old Sol
out of countenance.

"Stop!" he sang out in a voice of thunder.  "Stop!"

Then he took another observation, followed by a second stentorian shout
of "Stop!"

A pause ensued, and then he roared below to Mr Flinders, asking him
what he made it, the feeble voice of the first-mate giving him in return
the Greenwich time as certified by the chronometer; when after a longish
calculation and measuring of distances on the chart, with a pair of
compasses and the parallel ruler, Captain Snaggs gave his decision in an
oracular manner, with much wagging of his goatee beard.

"I guess yo're about right this journey, Mister Steenbock," he said,
holding up the chart for the other's inspection.  "I kalkelate we're
jest in latitood 0 degrees 32 minutes north, an' longitood 90 degrees 45
minutes west--pretty nigh hyar, ye see, whaar my finger is on this
durned spec, due north'ard of the Galapagos group on the Equator.  This
chart o' mine, though, don't give no further perticklers, so I reckon it
must be Abingdon Island, ez ye says, ez thet's the furthest north,
barrin' Culpepper Island, which is marked hyar, I see, to the nor'-west,
an' must be more'n fifty leagues, I guess, away."

"Joost zo," replied Jan Steenbock, mildly complacent at his triumph.  "I
vas zink zo, and I zays vat I zink!"

The point being thus satisfactorily settled, the men had their dinner,
which Hiram and I had cooked in the galley while the anchors were being
got out and the skipper was taking his observation of the sun; and then,
after seeing that everything was snug in the caboose, I was just about
sneaking over the side to explore the strange island and inspect more
closely the curious animals I had noticed, when Captain Snaggs saw me
from the poop and put the stopper on my little excursion.

"None o' y'r skulking my loblolly b'y!" he shouted out.  "Jest ye lay
aloft an' send down the mizzen-royal.  This air no time fur skylarkin'
an' jerymanderin'.  We wants all hands at work."

With that, I had, instead of enjoying myself ashore as I had hoped, to
mount up the rigging and help the starboard watch in unbending the
sails, which, when they reached the deck, were rolled up by the other
watch on duty below, and lowered to the beach over the side, where they
were stowed in a heap on the sand above high-water mark.

The lighter spars were next sent down, and then the upper and lower
yards by the aid of strong purchases, all being similarly placed ashore,
with the ropes coiled up as they were loosed from their blocks and
fastenings aloft; so, by the time sunset came the ship was almost a
sheer hulk, only her masts and standing rigging remaining.

Poor old thing, she was utterly transformed, lying high and dry there,
with all her top hamper gone, and shorn of all her fair proportions!

I noticed this when I came down from aloft, the _Denver City_ looking so
queer from the deck, with her bare poles sticking up, like monuments
erected to her past greatness; but, although I was tired enough with all
the jobs I had been on, unreeling ropes, and knotting, and splicing, and
hauling, till I hardly knew whether I stood on my head or my heels, I
was not too tired to take advantage of the kind offer Hiram made me when
I went into the galley to help get the men's tea ready.

"Ye ken skip, Cholly, an' hev a lark ashore, ef ye hev a mind to," said
he; "I'll look arter the coppers."

Didn't I `skip,' that's all.

I was down the sides in a brace of shakes, and soon wandering at my own
sweet will about the beach, wondering at everything I saw--the lava bed
above the sand, the tall, many-armed cactus plants, with their fleshy
fingers and spikes at the ends, like long tenpenny nails, the giant
tortoises, which hissed like snakes as they waddled out of my path--
wondering, aye, wondering at everything!

Hearing the cooing of doves again, as I had done in the morning, I
followed the sound, and presently came to a small grove of trees on an
incline above the flat lava expanse, to the right of the head of the
little bay where the ship was stranded.

Here grass and a species of fern were growing abundantly around a pool
of water, fed from a tiny rivulet that trickled down from the cliff
above; and I had no sooner got under the shelter of the leafy branches
than I was surrounded by a flock of the pretty grey doves whose gentle
cooing I had heard.

They were so tame that they came hopping on my head and outstretched
hand, and I was sorry I had not brought some biscuit in my pocket, so
that I might feed them.

It was so calm and still in the mossy glade that I threw myself down on
the grass, remaining until it got nearly dark, when I thought it about
time to return to the ship, though loth to leave the doves, who cooed a
soft farewell after me, which I continued to hear long after I lost
sight of them.

I got back to the shore safely without further adventure, until I was
close under the ship, when I had a fearful fright from a huge tortoise
that I ran against, and which seemed to spit in my face, it hissed at me
so viciously.

It must have been four feet high at least, and what its circumference
was goodness only knows, for I could have laid down on its back with
ease, as it was as broad as a table.

I did not attempt to do this, however, but scrambled up the ship's side
as quickly as I could, and made my way to the galley, in order to get my
tea, which Hiram had promised to keep hot for me.

Outside the galley, though, I met the American, who frightened me even
more than the big tortoise had done the minute before.

"Say, Cholly," he cried, his voice trembling with terror, "thet ghost of
the nigger cook air hauntin' us still; I seed him thaar jest now,
a-sottin' in the corner of the caboose an' a-playin' on his banjo, ez
true ez I'm a livin' sinner!"



CHAPTER TWELVE.

THE GOLDEN MADONNA.

"My goodness! you don't mean that, Hiram?"  I exclaimed, seeing from his
earnest manner that he was not trying to hoax me, but stating what he
really believed to be a fact.  "When was it that you saw the ghost?"

"Jest on sundown, Cholly, arter the men hed thaar tea an' cleared out,
the whole bilin' ov 'em, skipper an' all, goin' ashore, like ez ye did,
sonny, afore 'em, to prospect the country an' look at the big turtle an'
other streenge varmint.  Thaar warn't a soul left aboard but thet brute
Flinders an' myself; an' he wer so basted by the lickin' ez Jan
Steenbock giv him thet he wer lyin' down in the cabin an' pizenin'
hisself with rum to mend matters.  But, I wer thet dead beat, with
shiftin' gear an' sendin' down yards, thet I wer fit fur nuthin' but ter
lean over the gangway an' smoke a pipe afore turnin' in, fur I wer
mighty tired out, I wer!"

"You must have been, Hiram," said I, "for, I'm sure I was, and am so
still."

"Yes, I wer dead beat, an' thaar I rested agen the gangway, smokin' an'
lookin' at the chaps that wer a-skylarkin' with a big turtle they had
capsized on ter his back, so ez he couldn't make tracks; when all at
oncest I thort o' the galley fire a-goin' out an' yer tea, Cholly, ez I
promist to keep bilin', an' so I made back fur the caboose.  It wer then
close on dark, an' a sorter fog beginnin' to spring from seaward afore
the land breeze riz an' blew it orf."

"And then," I put in, on his pausing at this point, hanging on his words
intently, "what happened then?"

"Lord sakes!  Cholly, it kinder makes the creeps come over me to tell
you," he replied, with a shudder, while his voice fell impressively.  "I
wer jest nigh the galley when I heerd a twang on the banjo, same ez poor
old Sam used ter giv' the durned thin' afore he began a-playin' on it--a
sorter loudish twang, as if he gripped all the strings at oncet; an'
then, ther' come a softer sort o' toonfal `pink-a-pink-a-pong, pong,'
an' I guess I heerd a wheezy cough, ez if the blessed old nigger wer
clarin' his throat fur to sing--I did, so!"

"Goodness gracious, Hiram!"  I ejaculated, breathless with expectation,
"you must have been frightened!"

"I wer so," he replied--"I wer so skeart thet I didn't know what ter
dew; but, thinks I, let's see if anythin's thaar; an' so I jest look't
round the corner o' the galley through the half-door, an', b'y, thaar I
seed Sam a-sottin', ez I sed, an' a-playin' his banjo ez nat'rel ez ever
wer!"

"But the banjo wasn't there last night," I interposed here.  "I looked
for it almost as soon as we heard the sound of it being played at the
time of the earthquake, and I couldn't see it hanging up over the door
where Tom Bullover, you remember, pointed it out to us."

"Wa-all, all I ken say is thet I seed the ghostess with the durned thin'
thaar in his grip.  I didn't wait fur to see no more, I can tell ye,
Cholly!"

"What did you do?"

"I jest made tracks for the fo'c's'le, an' turned inter my bunk, I wer
so skeart, till the skipper an' the rest o' the hands came aboard ag'in,
when I comed out an' stood hyar a-waitin' fur ye.  I ain't seed Tom
Bullover yet; so ye're the fust I hev told o' the sperrit hauntin' us
agen, Cholly."

"Do you think it's gone yet?"  I asked; "perhaps it is still there."

"I dunno," he replied.  "P'raps ye'd best go fur to see.  I'm jiggered
if I will!"

I hesitated at this challenge; it was more than I bargained for.

"It's all dark now," I said, glancing towards the galley, from which no
gleam came, as usual, across the deck, as was generally the case at
night-time; "I suppose the fire has gone out?"

"'S'pose it air," answered Hiram; "guess it's about time it wer, b'y,
considerin' I wer jest a-going fur to make it up when I seed Sam.  I
reckon, though, if ye hev a mind fur to look in, ye can get a lantern
aft from the stooard.  I seed him a-buzzin' round the poop jest now, fur
he hailed me ez he poked his long jib-boom of a nose up the companion;
but, I didn't take no notice o' the cuss, fur I wer outer sorts like,
feelin' right down chawed up!"

"All right," said I, anxious to display my courage before Hiram, his
fright somehow or other emboldening me.  "I will get a lantern at once
and go into the galley."

So saying, I went along the deck aft, passing into the cuddy by the door
under the break of the poop, and there I found Morris Jones, the
steward, in the pantry.

He was putting a decanter and glass on a tray for the captain, who was
sitting in the cabin, preparing for a jollification after his exertions
of the day; for he had returned in high glee from his inspection of the
ship's position with Jan Steenbock, whom he took with him to explain the
different points of land and the anchorage.

Jan Steenbock was just leaving the skipper as I entered, refusing, as I
surmised from the conversation, his pressing invitation to have a
parting drink--a sign of great cordiality with him.

"Wa-all, hev yer own way, but a drop o' good rum hurts nary a one, ez I
ken see," I heard Captain Snaggs say.  "Good-night, Mister Steenbock.  I
guess we'll set to work in airnest ter-morrer, an' see about gettin' the
cargy out to lighten her; an' then, I reckon, mister, we'll try y'r
dodge o' diggin' a dock under her."

"Yase, dat vas goot," said the Dane, in his deep voice, in answer.  "We
will dig oop the zand vrom her kil: an' zen, she vill vloat, if dere vas
no leaks an' she vas not hoort her back by taking ze groond."

"Jest so," replied the skipper; and Morris Jones having gone into the
cabin with the glasses and water on his tray, I heard a gurgling sound,
as if Captain Snaggs was pouring out some of his favourite liquor and
gulping it down.  "Ah, I feel right chunky arter thet, I guess!  Yes,
Mister Steenbock, we'll float her right off; fur, I don't think she's
started a plank in her; an' if we shore her up properly we ken dig the
sand from under her, ez ye sez, an' then she'll go off ez right ez a
clam, when we brings a warp round the capstan from the ankers astern."

"Ja zo," agreed Jan Steenbock.  "We vill wait and zee."

"Guess not," retorted the skipper.  "We'll dew better, we'll work and
try, me joker, an' dew thet right away smart ter-morrer!"

Captain Snaggs sniggered at this, as if he thought it a joke; and then,
I could hear Jan Steenbock wish him good-night, leaving him to his rum
and the companionship of Mr Flinders--who must have smelt the liquor,
for I caught his voice muttering something about being `durned dry,' but
I did not listen any longer, looking out for the steward, who presently
followed Jan Steenbock out of the cabin.

"Well, younker, what d'ye want?"  Morris Jones asked me, when he came up
to where I was still standing alongside his pantry.  "I didn't have time
to speak to ye afore.  What is it?"

"I want a lantern," said I.  "The galley fire's gone out."

"All right, here you are, you can take this," he replied, handing me one
he had lit.  "Any more ghostesses about forrud?  That blessed nigger's
sperrit oughter go ashore, now we've come to this outlandish place, and
leave us alone!"

"You'd better not joke about it," I said solemnly.  "Hiram has seen
something awful to-night."

"What d'ye mean?" he cried, turning white in a moment, as I could see by
the light of the lantern, and all his braggadocio vanishing.  "What d'ye
mean?"

"Only not to halloo too loud till you're out of the wood," said I, going
off forwards.  "Hiram has seen Sam's ghost again, that's all!"

I felt all the more encouraged by this little passage of arms with the
funky Welshman; so, I marched up to the galley door as brave as brass,
holding out, though, the lantern in front of me, to light up the place,
Hiram, ashamed of his own fears, coming up close behind, and looking in
over my shoulder.

Neither of us, though, saw any cause for alarm, for there was no one
there; and I was inclined to believe that Hiram had fallen asleep and
dreamt the yarn he told me, the more especially as there was a strong
smell of tobacco about the place, as if some one had been there recently
smoking.

The American, however, was indignant at the bare suggestion of this.

"What d'yer take me fur, Cholly," he said.  "I tell ye I seed him
a-sottin' down thaar in thet corner, an' heerd the banjo ez plain ez if
it wer a-playin' now!  Look at the fire, too; ain't that streenge?  It
wer jest a-staggerin' out when I comed hyar fur to put on some more wood
to make it burn up, an' thaar it air now, ez if some one hez jest been
a-lightin' on it!"

It was as he said.  The fire seemed to have been fresh lit, for there
was even a piece of smouldering paper in the stoke hole.

It was certainly most mysterious, if Hiram had not done it, which he
angrily asserted he had not, quite annoyed at my doubting his word.

While I was debating the point with him, Tom Bullover appeared at the
door, with his usual cheerful grin.

"Hullo!" cried he; "what's the row between you two?"

Thereupon Hiram and I both spoke at once, he telling his version of the
story and I mine.

"Well, don't let such foolish nonsense make you ill friends," said Tom,
grinning.  "I dare say you're both right, if matters could only be
explained--Hiram, in thinking he saw Sam's ghost, and you, Charley, in
believing he dreamt it all out of his head.  As for the fire burning up,
I can tell you all about that, for seeing it just at the last gasp, I
stuck in a bit of paper and wood to light it, so as to be more cheerful.
I likewise lit my own pipe arterwards, which fully accounts for what
you fellows couldn't understand."

"Thaar!" exclaimed Hiram triumphantly; "I tolled you so, Cholly."

"All right," I retorted.  "It's just as I said, and there's nothing
mysterious about it."

Each of us remained of his own opinion, but Tom Bullover chaffed us out
of all further argument, and we presently followed the example of the
other hands, who were asleep snoring in the fo'c's'le, and turned into
our bunks; while Tom went aft to relieve Jan Steenbock as look-out,
there being no necessity for all of the watch to be on deck, the ship
being ashore, and safer even than if she had been at anchor.

In the morning, I was roused up by the cooing doves again, and the very
first man I met after turning out was Morris Jones, who looked seedy and
tired out, as if he had been awake all night.

"What's the matter?"  I asked him, as he came into the galley, where I
was busy at my morning duty, getting the coppers filled for the men's
coffee, and poking up the fire, which still smouldered, for I had banked
it, so as to keep it alight after I turned in.  "Anything happened?"

"You were right, Cholly, in tellin' me not to holler till I was out of
the wood last night," he said solemnly.  "I seed thet arterwards the
same as Hiram!"

"Saw what?"

"The nigger's ghost."

"Nonsense!"  I cried, bursting out into a laugh, his face looked so
woe-begone, while his body seemed shrunk, giving him the most
dilapidated appearance.  "You must have been taking some of the cap'en's
rum."

"None o' your imperence, master Cholly," said he, aiming a blow at my
head, which I dexterously avoided.  "I never touches none o' the
skipper's ruin; I wouldn't taste the nasty stuff now, after all I've
seen it's done.  No, I tell you straight, b'y, I ain't lying.  I see Sam
Jedfoot last night as ever was, jest soon arter you went away from the
cuddy with the lantern."

"You did?"

"Yes, I'll take my davy on it.  He comed right through the cabin, and
walked past my pantry, stepping over the deck jest as if he was alive;
and then I saw something like a flash o' light'ing, and when I looked
agen, being blinded at first, there he were a-floating in the air, going
out o' sight over the side."

"Did you go to see what had become of him?"  I said jokingly, on hearing
this.  "Where did he make for when he got over the side?"

"I didn't look no more," answered the steward, taking my inquiry in
earnest.  "I were too frightened."

"What did you do, then?"

"I just stopped up there in my pantry all night, locking the door, so as
to prevent no one from getting in.  Aye, I kep' two lights burning, to
scare the ghost if he should come again; and theer I stop't till
daylight, when I heard you stirring, and comed here to speak to you,
glad to see a human face agen, if only a beast of a b'y like you--far
them sperrits do make a chap feel quar all over!  Besides, too, the fear
o' seeing the blamed thing agen, I thought the skipper, who was drinking
awful arter Jan Steenbock left, he and Flinders having a regular go in
at the rum, might have another fit o' the horrors, and bust out on me
with his revolver.  Lor, I 'ave 'ad a night on it, I can tell you!"

"Poor fellow! wait and have a pan of coffee," said I sympathisingly,
pitying his condition and not minding his polite allusion to me as a
`beast of a boy,' which no doubt my manner provoked.  "It will soon be
ready."

"I will," he replied, thoroughly beaten and speaking to me civilly for
the first time.  "Thank ye, kindly, Cholly!"

By-and-by the crew turned out; and, after having their coffee, began
again the same work they had been at the previous day of lightening the
ship, Captain Snaggs superintending operations, and not looking a bit
the worse for his drinking bout in which Morris Jones said he had spent
the night with his kindred spirit, Mr Flinders.

The scene on the beach all that day and the next was a busy one, all
hands hard at it unloading the _Denver City_, preparatory to our trying
to restore her to her native element, the sea--which latter rippled up
along her dry timbers forward, as far as the mizzen-chains, the furthest
point where she was aground, with a lisping sound, it seemed to me, as
if wooing her to come back and float on its bosom again once more, as of
yore!

A great deal more had to be effected, however, before this could be
accomplished, for a sort of dock, or trench, had to be dug out beneath
the vessel's keel, so as to bring the water beneath her and help to lift
her off the sandbank where she was stranded; and this could not be done
in a day, work we our hardest, despite the men taking shifts turn and
turn about by watches at the task.

Fortunately, while unloading the cargo, a lot of pickaxes were found
amongst the miscellaneous assortment of `notions' stowed in the
main-hold; and these now came in handy, the hands learning to wield them
just as if they had been born navvies, after a bit, under the
experienced direction of Captain Snaggs, who said he had been a
Californian miner during a spell he had ashore at one period of his
life.

On the third day of this labour, the dock was becoming perceptibly deep
amidships and the water beginning to ooze through the sand; when, all at
once, Tom Bullover, who was wielding a pick like the rest, struck the
point of it against something which gave out a clear metallic ring.

After a dig or two more, he excavated the object, which, preserved in
the lava that lay beneath the sand and shells on the beach, was found to
be an image of the Virgin, such as you see in Roman Catholic countries
abroad.  It was of a bright yellow colour and shining, as if just turned
out of a jeweller's shop.

It was a golden Madonna!



CHAPTER THIRTEEN.

JAN STEENBOCK GETS CONFIDENTIAL.

"My stars, Chips!" exclaimed Hiram, who was standing near by when Tom
Bullover held up his treasure-trove to view.  "What hev ye got thaar,
ship met?"

"Sorry o' me knows," returned the other, examining the object closely.
"Seems like one o' them blessed saints they has in the cathedral at
Lima, which I went over one day last v'y'ge I took this side, when I
sailed from Shields to Valparaiso, and arterwards come up the coast, our
skipper looking out for a cargy, instead o' going back home in ballast.
It seems a pretty sort o' himage, too, bo, and I'm hanged if I don't
think it's gold, for it's precious heavy for its size, I can tell you!"

"Chuck it over hyar an' let's see what it's like," said Hiram, his
curiosity at once roused.  "I'll soon tell ye if it's hunkydory ez soon
ez I hev the handlin' on it; fur I ken smell the reel sort, I guess, an'
knows it likewise by the feel it kinder hez about it."

"Right you are, bo," sang out Tom Bullover, pitching it towards him.
"Catch!"

"Bully far yer!" cried Hiram, putting up his hands and clutching hold of
the figure as, well thrown by the other, it came tumbling into his ready
grasp.  "I'll soon tell ye what it's made on, I reckon!"

He thereupon proceeded to inspect the object carefully, giving it a lick
of his tongue and rough polish with his palms, to remove the dirt and
dust with which it was partly encrusted, sniffing at it and handling it
as if it were a piece of putty.

"Well, bo," asked Tom at length, tired of waiting and eager to learn the
result of the other's examination; "is it all right?"

"You bet," responded Hiram, tossing up the image in the air and catching
it again, and raising a triumphant shout that at once attracted the
attention of the other hands, who dropped their pickaxes and shovels
instanter and came clustering round.  "I'm jiggered if it ain't gold,
an' durned good metal, too, with nary a bit o' bogus stuff about it.
Hooray!"

"Hooray!" yelled out the rest of the men in sympathy, the precious
figure being passed round from one to another, so that each could see it
in turn and judge for himself.  "Hooray!"

"Hillo!" cried Captain Snaggs, noticing the commotion and coming
bustling up, with his wiry goatee beard bristling and his pointed nose
and keen eyes all attention.  "What d'ye mean droppin' work an loafin'
up hyar in a crowd, makin' all that muss fur, hey?"

"We've just found this here figger, sir," explained Tom Bullover; "and
Hiram says it's made o' gold."

"Thet's so, cap," corroborated the American sailor.  "It air all thet;
an' goold of good grit, I reckon, too, or I'll swaller the durned lump,
I will, without sass!"

"Humph!" snorted the skipper, holding out his hand for it; "give us
holt, an' I'll prospect it fur ye, if ye like.  They usest to tell me I
warn't a bad jedge when I wer at the Carraboo diggin's an' went in fur
minin'."

The little image of the Madonna was accordingly handed to him, and the
skipper's nose wrinkled up, and twitched and jerked sideways, while his
billy-goat beard bristled out like a porcupine's quills, as he sniffed
and examined the figure, turning it over and over in his hands and
feeling it, the same as Hiram had done.  He even went so far as to pinch
it.

"Jee-rusalem!" he at length exclaimed; "it's gold, sure enuff!"

"Hooray!" again burst from the men around.  "Hooray!"

"I don't see nothin' to holler fur," said Captain Snaggs, in response to
this, bringing them up, as the saying goes, `with a round turn,' as he
turned round angrily.  "Guess ye won't find no more o' the same sort
skatin' round the ranche!"

But, just then, Jan Steenbock came on the scene.

He had been busily engaged overseeing the construction of a species of
coffer-dam across the shore at right angles and up to the keel of the
ship at the point where the tide came up to, just by the mizzen-chains;
so that the water should not get down into the excavation that the men
were digging until this should be deep enough to float the vessel, or,
at all events, assist in easing her off the beach--for, if flooded
prematurely, the labour would be doubled.

The hands helping him having, however, deserted for the nonce and joined
the rest of the crowd around Tom Bullover and Hiram, he came up, also,
to the spot where all of us were standing, with the object of coaxing
his gang back to their task.  The sound of the men's wild shout and the
skipper's voice, raised in anger, as he thought, hastened his footsteps,
too, for he feared that some mischief was brewing, and that the crew had
mutinied at the least.

The moment he got near, though, he could perceive, from the grinning
faces and expression of those close by, that nothing very desperate was
in the wind; and, he was just on the point of asking what the row was
about, when, all at once, he caught sight of the image.

"Mein Gott!" he ejaculated, looking the picture of astonishment, and
more excited than I had ever seen him, from the first day I stepped on
board the ship until now,--"it vas ze Madonna of ze golt.  Ze Madonna of
ze golt!"

We all stared at him, filled with wonder at his apparent recognition of
the figure.  The skipper, however, at once interrogated him on the
point.

"Jehosophat, mister!" cried Captain Snaggs, with mixed curiosity and
impatience--"what d'ye mean?  Hev ye ever seed this hyar figger afore?"

"Yase," said the Dane, in his deep voice; "yase, I vas zee him one long
time befores I vas know him ver' well!"

"Thunder, ye don't mean it!  What, this durned identical image?"

"Yase, mitout doubt.  I vas know dat zame idenzigal vigure," replied the
other imperturbably, his passing fit of excitement having cooled,
leaving him as calm and impassive as usual.  "It vas ze Madonna of ze
golt dat we vas loose overboart from ze schgooners, one, doo, dree year
ago."

The skipper looked at him, without speaking further for a second or
more, Jan Steenbock confronting him as steadfastly and placidly as a
periwinkle might have been under the circumstances; while all of us
around gazed at them both, open-mouthed with expectancy.

"What d'ye mean?" presently said Captain Snaggs, breaking the silence;
"what schooner air ye talkin' on?"

"Ze schgooners dat I vas zail in vrom Guayaquil dat time as I tell yous,
vor to gatoh ze orchillas veeds."

"But, mister, say, what hez thet stuff, which in coorse I knows on, to
do with this durned old image hyar?" again interrogated the skipper, in
an incredulous tone.  "I guess ye air gettin' a bit kinder mixed up, an'
yer yarn don't hitch on an' run smooth like!"

"Joost zo," returned the imperturbable second-mate, in no way disturbed
by this impeachment of his veracity.  "You joost vait; I vas hab
zometing vor to zay.  Joost vait and I vas tell yous."

"Carry on then," said Captain Snaggs impatiently.  "By thunder! ye air
ez long gettin' under way, I guess, ez a Cape Cod pilot.  Fire away, an'
be durned to ye, an' tell us the hull bilin', mister!"

Jan Steenbock, however, would not allow himself to be hurried in this
fashion.  Quite unmoved by the skipper's impatience, he went on in his
slow, deliberate way, all of us listening with the keenest attention and
steadying ourselves for a good yarn.

"It vas dree year ago dat I vas meet mit Cap'en Shackzon, of ze
schgooners _Mariposa_, at Guayaquil," he began sententiously, clearing
his throat, and seeming to speak in deeper and deeper tones as he
proceeded with his narrative.  "He vas go, he tells me, vor a drading
voy'ge to ze Galapagos Islants, and vas vant a zecond-mate, and vas ask
me vor to come mit hims."

"An' ye wented," interrupted the skipper--"hey?"

"Yase, I vas go!  Cap'en Shackzon zays, zays he, bevore we sdart, dat ze
schgooners vas to zail vor Jarls Islant, call't by ze Sbaniards
`Vloreana,' vere dere vas a lot of beeples vrom Equador dat collect ze
orchilla veeds, and vas drade likevise to ze mainland mit ze hides and
zalt veesh, and ozer tings."

"I reckon all thet don't consarn us, mister," said the skipper,
arresting any further enumeration of the exports from Charles Island;
"an' so, ye went thaar to trade, hey?"

"Nein," came Jan Steenbock's unexpected answer; "ze schgooners vas not
go to Jarls Islant."

"Jee-rusalem!" exclaimed the skipper, taken aback by this naive
announcement.  "Then, whaar in thunder did ye go?"

"Vait, and I vas tell yous," said the other calmly, going on with his
story in his own way.  "Ven we vas zail vrom Guayaquil and vas at zee
zome days, Cap'en Shackzon zays to me, zays he, `I vas engage yous'--dat
vas me--`vor and bekos I vas vant a man dat I can droost, mit all dis
crew of gut-throat Sbaniards arount me.  Can yous be zeegret and keep in
ze gonfidence vat I tells you?'  In ze course, I vas zay to Cap'en
Shackzon `yase;' and, den--"

"What happened?" eagerly asked Captain Snaggs; "what happened?"

"We zails to ze norzard," continued Jan, provokingly, refraining from
disclosing at the moment the confidential communication he mentioned
having been made to him.  "We vas zail vor dree more day, and den we vas
zee dat cap dere, dat Cap'en Shackzon vas zay is Cape Chalmers, and dat
ze lant vas Abingdon Islant vere we vas now vas; and den he vas tell me
his zeegret."

"An' thet wer what, eh, mister?" said the skipper, while all of us hung
on his words, breathless now with excitement, our curiosity being
aroused to the highest pitch.  "Don't kep us a-waitin', thaar's a
friendly coon, fur I guess we air amost bustin' to haar what thet air
secret wer!"

"I beliefs zere vas no harms vor to tell?" observed the Dane
reflectively, as if cogitating the matter over in his own mind and
anxious to have another opinion to say whether or no his narration of
the circumstances would be any breach of the trust reposed in him.
"Cap'en Shackzon was det, and ze crew vas det, and zere vas nobozy dat
vas aboart ze schgooners dat vas alifes but meinselfs."

"Nary a bit o' harm at all, mister, ez I ken see," said Captain Snaggs
decisively; "not where ther' ain't no folk alive to complain o' ye
tellin' on it.  Nary a bit o' harm, I reckon!"

"Yase, I do not zee no harms," continued Jan Steenbock, as if he had now
made up his mind on the point; "and zo I vas tell yous.  Ze zeegret dat
Cap'en Shackzon tell to me vas dat he hat discovert von dreazure in a
cave in ze islant von day dat he vas plown into ze bay in a squall; and
ven he vas go back to Guayaquil, he vas charter ze schgooners to zail
back to ze islant again.  He vas tell ze beeples dere dat he vas go vor
ze orchilla veeds and ze toordle; but, he vas mean to dig oop ze
dreazure and take hims back zogreetly in ze schgooners to ze mainland,
as if he vas only hab ze orchilla veeds and ze toordle on boart.  He
zays to me, zays Cap'en Shackzon, `ze Sbaniards in Equador is von bat
lot, and vill murter a mans like one mosquito vor a tollar,' and he vas
know dat zey vas kill hims if zey vas zink he vas hab ze dreazure on
boart; and, dat vas ze reason dat he vas vant von man dat he coot
droost, joost like meinselfs, mit hims!"

"A treasure hyar, mister," said the skipper, with his eyes aglow and his
goatee beard bristling up, all agog at such news--"a treasure o' gold,
hey?"

"Yase, yase," replied the other affirmatively; "oh, yase!"

"How come it hyar?"

"It vas burit by ze boocaneer in ze olt time--one, doo, dree huntert
year ago," explained Jan.  "Cap'en Shackzon vas zee it writ in von book
dat he vas zee at Guayaquil; and den, ven he vas zail here, he vas come
to de zame blace dat ze boocaneer spoke of in ze book and hat burit ze
golt.  It vas ze ploonder of ze churches of ze coast, dat ze boocaneers
hat collect in von big heep and zegreet in ze cave till zey coot take
hims avay mit dem, and dere it vas remain till Cap'en Shackzon vound
it."

"He found it, hey?"

"Yase, he vind it von day, as I zays.  His voot vas sdoomble in ze hole,
and dat give vays; and den, he doombles into ze cave, and zee all ze
dreasure of golt and silber and ozer tings."

"An' did ye see it, too, mister?" inquired Captain Snaggs anxiously.
"Pyaps thet air coon wer only bamboozlin' ye, an' made up the yarn!"

"No, he vas not make it oop," replied Jan.  "I vas zee dat Madonna of
golt dere and ozer tings dat he vas bring back vrom ze cave ven we vas
coom here in ze schgooners, and anchor't in ze bay dere as ze sheep vas
now lay.  But, Cap'en Shackzon vas von sdrange mans!"

"Thunder!" ejaculated the skipper, on the other pausing at this point,
as if waiting for the question to be put.  "How wer he streenge, mister,
hey?"

"He vas like to keep zings to himselfs," said Jan Steenbock meaningly.
"He vas not let me go to ze cave at all, and ze schgooner vas anchor't
here in ze bay more dan a veek!"

"I s'pose he didn't want the crew--them rascally Spaniards ye spoke on--
smellin' a rat an' spilin' his game, I reckon," suggested the skipper;
"but how did he manage, hey?"

"He vas keep ze mans all day hunting for ze orchilla veeds up ze montane
dere," replied Jan; "and den, ven ze night vas coom, he vas tell me to
shtop on ze vatch, and den he vas go ashore to look for ze cave mit
himselfs."

"He didn't spot it at once agen then?"

"Nein.  He vas look in vain vor dree nights, and vas near give oop ze
hoont in despair; but on ze ozer night he vas come back to ze schgooners
in goot sbirrits, and zays to me, zays he, `I vas vind ze cave at last.'
He vas zo glat he vas laf mit joy and I vas laf, too!"

"I guess ye hed sunthin' to snigger over, hey?"

"Yase, joost zo!  I vas laf mit him; and den, he vas bring oot dat
Madonna dere, dat he vas hab stow avay in his shirt, and vas show it to
me, and ze vigure vas shin in ze moonlight.  Ah, dat vas bat; vor, von
of ze Sbaniards of ze crew vas zee it shin in ze light and show ze golt,
and he vas tell ze ozers--a pack of raskels--and ze whole game was oop
vor us and ze dreazure!"

"How's thet, mister?" inquired the skipper, as Jan paused again here,
his voice dropping.  "Did the varmint spile ye?"

"Humph!" growled the other.  "Dey vas spile zemselves!  In ze mittle of
ze night ze raskels go down into ze cabin vere Cap'en Shackzon vas
ashleep and shtab him mit dere knifes.  Den, zey shtole ze golt Madonna
and brings it oop on ze deck; and den, zey get vighting vor ze vigure,
and shtab von ze ozers, and dey vas vake me oop mit ze row, vor I vas
tiret and vas ashleep in ze boate over ze taffrail."

"An' how did ye come off with a hull skin?" asked Captain Snaggs.  "I
guess ye wer in a durned tight corner."

"Zee goot Gott vatch overs me!" replied Jan Steenbock gravely, raising
his eyes reverently upward as he uttered the word, "vor, in ze mittle of
ze row, ven ze raskels vas all of zem murtering each ozers and ze deck
vas rolling in bloot, a sudden gale vas spring oop; and ze schgooner vas
dash on ze rocks dere to port, and she vas go down in ze deep vater, mit
ze crew still vighting on ze deck to ze last.  One--doo--dree--vore--
mens vas already kil't, besides Cap'en Schackzon--ze lifing and ze det
going down zogeder into de zee, mit ze golt Madonna dat you vas now
vind!"

"An' how did ye scrape through, hey?"

"I vas schvim ashore," answered Jan Steenbock, in reply to this question
from the skipper, who followed his recital carefully, with his
inquisitive long nose twitching every now and then, and his billy-goat
beard wagging as he nodded his head, watching apparently to catch the
other tripping in his story.  "I vas schvim ashore and go to landt all
raite."

"What became o' ye then?"

"I vas shtop heres till I vas pick oop by a passing sheep."

"Her name, mister?" again interrogated Captain Snaggs, with keen
pertinacity.  "Thet is if ye reck'lects."

"Oh, yase, I vas remembers very well," rejoined the other, equal to the
occasion.  "She vas ze whaling barque _Jemima Greens_, of Bostone, I
zinks."

"Thet's right; I knows her," interrupted the skipper, quite satisfied.
"Joe Davis master, hey?"

"Yase, joost zo," replied the other, "dat vas ze name of ze cap'en, I
remembers."

"An' how long did ye remain aboard her?"

"Vor more dan vore months.  She vas veeshing vor ze whale ven she pick
me oop vrom here; and I vas hab to vait till she vas load up mit ze
oils, ven she vas go zouth, and landt me at Valparaizo.  Vrom dat port I
vas vork mein passage back to England ze next zommer--and dat vas dree
year ago."

"Waal, thet's a tall yarn, anyhow," said the skipper, when Jan Steenbock
had thus concluded his strange history; "but, dew ye mean ter say ez how
ye hev never ben nigh this place hyar agen sin' thet time?"

"Nein," replied the other frankly, "nevaire!"

"What! d'ye mean ter say ez how ye hed no kinder sort o' curiosity like
to find thet thaar cave, with the rest o' thet gold an' treasure what
them old buccaneers stowed away so snug, 'specially arter seein' it wer'
reel?"

"No, cap'en," said Jan Steenbock firmly, as if he had previously well
considered all the bearings of the case and arrived at his final
decision.  "I vas nevaire likes vor to zee dat blace nor ze golt again--
no, nevaire!"

"But, why, mister?" asked the skipper, with insatiable curiosity,
winking to the hands round, to call their attention to the fact that he
was about to take a rise out of the simple-hearted Dane, and `trot him
out,' as it were, for their mutual amusement.  "Why shouldn't ye hanker
arter seein' the gold agen, mister?  I guess ye didn't hev too much on
it afore; an', I'm durned if ye hev got much of a pile now, ez fur ez I
ken see!"

Jan Steenbock's answer, however, completely staggered him, banishing all
his merriment and facetiousness in an instant.

"It vas curst," said the Dane solemnly.  "Ze golt and ze islandt and
everyting vas shtink mit ze black man's bloot!"



CHAPTER FOURTEEN.

WE DISCOVER THE CAVE.

"What d'ye mean?"  Captain Snaggs managed to stammer out after a bit,
his long face perceptibly longer and his rubicund complexion turned to
an ashy grey.  He was conscience-stricken and thoroughly frightened at
the second-mate thus bringing up again, as he thought, his cruel murder
of the negro cook; for, Jan Steenbock spoke in the same tone of voice,
and pointed his finger at him like an accusing judge, in almost the same
precise way he had done on that eventful day when we were off Scilly,
three months before.  "What in thunder d'ye mean, man?--what d'ye mean?"

"I vas mean vat I zays," answered the other calmly: "ze dreazure of ze
boocaneer vas shtain mit ze bloot of von schlave."

"Oh," exclaimed the skipper, somewhat relieved by his not mentioning
again Sam Jedfoot's name, as he and all of us believed the second-mate
intended doing, imagining his remark to refer to none other than the
poor darkey.  "I don't kinder foller ye, mister, nohow, an it strikes
me, it dew, ez if ye air gettin' sorter mixed up, same ez jest now!
What d'ye mean a-talkin' o' durned nigger slaves an' sichlike?  Thaar
ain't none now, I reckon, under the Stars and Stripes this side, nor yit
fur thet matter in the hull o' the land, from Maine to Californy, sin'
the war busted up the great southern `institooshun,' ez they call'd it
in Virginny.  Thaar ain't no slaves, sirree, now, I guess, on this hyar
free an' almighty continent!  What d'yer mean, hey?"

The men gave out another loud hooray at this stump speech, which the
skipper, quite relieved of his fears anent any allusion to Sam Jedfoot,
delivered with much unction, as if he were holding forth from a platform
at election time, his billy-goat beard wagging while he threw his arms
about in the excitement of his oratory.

Jan Steenbock, for the moment, seemed puzzled how to reply; for, he
stood silently facing the other in the pause that ensued after he had
finished his harangue.

At length, however, he spoke, the wild cheer of the hands spurring him
up and giving an impulse to the slow current of his thoughts and words--
the Dane not being prone, like Captain Snaggs, to talking for the mere
pleasure of hearing his own voice.

"I vill egshblain vat I means," he began, in his deliberate way,
answering the skipper's question, but speaking as if addressing all of
us collectively, his deep tones getting deeper and increasing in volume
as he proceeded, so that all could hear.  "I vas shpeak vat I reat in ze
book dat Cap'en Shackzon vas bringt mit him vrom Guayaquil in ze
schgooners dat time.  I vas likevise rec'lect vat I zees here ven we vas
arrife, an' Cap'en Shackzon's vas murter't, and ze mans vas kill ze
ozers, and dere vas nuzzing but bloot and murter; vor, ze schgooners vas
go down, mit only meinselfs dat vas eshgape mit mein lifes--and zo I
zays to meinselfs, dere vas a curse on ze golt and ze dreazure of ze
boocaneer vrom ze bloot of ze schlave dat vas murter't!"

"Guess I don't foller ye yet, mister," said the skipper.  "Who kil't
thet air darkey ye air a-talkin' on, hey?"

"Ze boocaneer," promptly replied Jan.  "Dey vas burit ze schlave vere
dey vas burit ze dreazure."

"An' what did the cusses dew thet fur?"

"It vas to make ze Sbaniards and ze ozer beebles not vor to dig oop ze
dreasure, or vor to go vere it vas burit.  Zey vas zink dat ze sbirit of
ze black man vas harmt dem and vork mizcheef, ze zame as vas done to
hims, bekos he vas murter't vor ze dreazure.  `Bloot vor bloot' vas ze
law of ze boocaneer, and dey vas zink dat ze black mans vas hab ze bloot
of ze ozer mans dat coom vere his sbirit vas!"

"Oh, thet's the yarn ye hev got holt on!" exclaimed Captain Snaggs, with
a grin on his face, winking round to us.  "Guess ye ain't sich a durned
fule ez ter swaller all thet bunkum, hey?"

"I doos belief it, vor it vas droo," answered Jan Steenbock very
impressively.  "Oh, yase, I vas zee it meinselfs.  It vas droo as droo!"

"Wa-al," drawled out the skipper, with a snigger, which raised a
sympathetic laugh from some of the men standing by, "thet beats
ev'rythin' I ever know'd, it dew!  Jest ter think of a straight
up-an'-down coon like ye, mister, with raal grit in ye, a-believin' in
sich a yarn ez thet!"

"I beliefs it, vor it vas droo," repeated the Dane, in no way
discomposed by the other's ridicule.  "I vas hab ze cause to beliefs!"

"What!  Thet a durned nigger buried two hunder' year ago, or
thaarabouts, hez the power to kinder hurt airy a livin' soul now?"

"I beliefs it," returned Jan, doggedly; adding, much to the skipper's
discomfiture and banishing his merriment in a moment.  "Dere vas sdrange
zings habben zometimes.  I vas hear ze mans zay dat ze ghost of ze cook
dat you shoots vas hoont dees very sheeps!"

Captain Snaggs made no reply to this crushing rejoinder: but a sort of
murmur of assent came from the others, while I caught Hiram's voice
saying, "Thet's so; right enuff!"

"And zo, cap'en," went on the Dane, perceiving that he had scored a
point, and that the laugh was no longer against him, "I van hab nuzzing
vor to do mit ze dreazure of ze boocaneer, and I vas hopes not vor to
zee it a gains.  It vas accurst, as I vas zay, vor ze boocaneer
zemselves vas not able vor to vind it after zay vas burit it; and den,
ven Cap'en Shackzon vinds it, he vas also murter't, as the schlave vas,
and his crew vas murter't zemselves!  Ze boocaneer dreazure vas accurst
and bringt goot to no beebles.  And zo, cap'en, I zays; zays I, let us
not mindt it at all, mit its bat look, but go on vor to dig oot ze dock
for ze sheep.  We vas vaste ze time for nuzzin', if we hoonts vor ze
dreazure; and if we vinds it, we vas nevaire get no goot vrom it--
nevaire, nozzing but bat!"

"Wa-all, thet's good advice, anyhow," said the skipper, thinking the
palaver had lasted long enough.  "Guess ye chaps bed better sot to work
agen, ez Mister Steenbock sez.  If we shu'd light on this air treesor,
well enuff, but our fust job, I reckon, 's to get the shep afloat agen;
an' we won't do thet, ye bet, by standin' hyar listenin' to ghost yarns
an' sichlike!  Now, ye jokers, let me see ye handlin' them picks agen.
P'r'aps ye'll dig up another gold figger o' two; who knows?"

This set all hands busy, the men excavating the sand and hard lava from
under the bilge of the vessel with an alacrity they had not displayed
before; and, each man putting his heart to the job, the broad trench in
which they were working was soon dug down considerably deeper than the
level of the sea.  To prevent the encroach of this latter all the stuff
taken out was thrown up alongside, forming a sort of steep embankment on
either hand, so that the _Denver City_ looked by-and-by as if she had
run her head into a railroad cutting, the coffer-dam fixed across the
beach, right under her keel, by the mizzen-chains, where the water just
came up to, blocking the entrance to our dock effectually.  The ship
herself aided us in this respect, by settling down more in the sand
there as it became loosened, and we only had to take care now that the
slight rise and fall of the tide should not cause too great a leakage
into the trench between the keel below and the upper strakes of her
timbers above, at the height to which the dam reached; and, after a
while, although a little water did trickle through the wall of sand and
lava forming the side of the excavation towards the sea, there was not a
sufficient quantity of it to interfere with the labour of digging to any
material extent, nor to arrest our efforts.

The men, indeed, wielded their picks as if anxious to make up for the
half-hour or so that had been wasted since Tom Bullover found the golden
Madonna.

Nor did they content themselves merely with digging.

A keen watch was kept, in case something else might turn up, and every
piece of hard substance disinterred was carefully scrutinised; but,
alas! no more golden images or nuggets of the precious metal gladdened
our eyes!  Nothing came in view but sand and lava, lava and sand, varied
occasionally by the sight of some fragment of half-fossilised
tortoise-shell, or the chalky bones of cuttlefish and similar debris of
the deep, washed up by the sea, and buried a fathom deep and more amid
the strata of the shore.

This was disappointing; still, the men comforted themselves with the
reflection that they were really digging for something else beyond the
mere chance of picking up stray finds, such as that of Tom, who was
thought a right good fellow for declaring he didn't consider the Madonna
his own special property, but would sell the figure, and go shares with
all, when they got the ship afloat again, and reached San Francisco.  My
friend the carpenter thus artfully `pointed his moral,' in order to make
us work the harder at the novel navvy work at which we were engaged--
strange, at least, to us sailor-folk.

Of course, though, while toiling like this, digging and splashing about
in the insidious water that percolated through the beach, and which
gradually accumulated until it was now almost knee-deep in the bottom of
the trench, we were by no means silent, for a lot of talk went on in
reference to the buccaneers' buried treasure that Jan Steenbock had
spoken of.  So, in spite of the second-mate's warning as to the `curse'
which he declared was associated with the hidden hoard, and would attach
itself to any one discovering or touching the same, I heard more than
one of the men give expression to a resolve to hunt for Captain
Jackson's cave as soon as he should have an opportunity, when his spell
of work was over, or, at all events, on the completion of the dock and
the floating of the ship--a halcyon period most devoutly prayed for by
all of us as we slaved at our unaccustomed task.

Amongst those who had thus made up their minds to go after the treasure
was myself; and I got full of the subject, though keeping my own council
the while, and not informing any one of my intention.

Presently, at `eight bells,' the skipper told me I might leave off work
in the trench, and go with Hiram on board the ship to prepare tea for
the hands.  Morris Jones was ordered to accompany us, at the same time,
to get the captain's dinner ready; for, although we were ashore on a
desert island, our ordinary routine as to meals and other matters was
adhered to as regularly as if we had been at sea--the only exception
being that no particular watch was kept, and that we all turned in
together of a night and out likewise in the morning without distinction,
all at the same time.  Throughout the day we worked at digging out the
trench, or `dock' as Jan Steenbock persisted in calling it, under the
ship, in gangs, in similar fashion to the mode that had been employed
when unloading her, so as to get the task accomplished as quickly as
possible; and, to facilitate this, the hands were divided into two
batches, each having a spell of navvy's work and a rest off between
whiles, turn and turn about.

"Thet wer a mighty rum yarn the Dutchman spun jest now, I guess,"
observed Hiram, as soon as we had got on board and reached the galley,
Morris Jones leaving us awhile to ourselves, and going aft to fetch the
skipper's grub out of the pantry, where it was stowed.  "I'm jiggered if
I ever heerd tell o' sich a yarn afore!"

"Don't you think it true?"  I said.  "Mr Steenbock isn't given to
cramming, from all I have seen of him."

"No; he air a straight up-an'-down coon, I reckon," replied Hiram,
proceeding to cut off a piece of tobacco from a plug he produced from
his pocket, and placing a `chaw' in his jaw.  "Still, b'y, jest think o'
buccaneer tree-sors, an' all sorts o' gold an' silver a-waitin' fur us
to dig 'em up!  Why, it beats Californy an' all I've heerd tell o' the
diggin' days, when thaar wer the first rush, an' the folks ez got in
time made their pile!"

"But you heard what he said of the spirit protecting the treasure," I
remarked, "Don't you think he's right about the curse hanging over it?
I believe it would be unlucky to touch it."

"B'y, thaar's allars a cuss tied on to gold an' greenbacks, sich ez we
used ter hev a little time back," said Hiram sententiously.  "But, I
reckon, the harm don't lie in the durned stuff itself: it's in the way
some folks kinder handles it--thet's whaar the pizen is!  Guess I ain't
afeard o' no cuss, once I comes across thet cave the Dutch mate wer
a-speakin' on!"

"And the ghost?"

"Oh, durn the sperrit, Cholly!" said he, with a laugh.  "I ain't
afeard."

"Recollect though, Hiram," I remarked, in answer to this, "how
frightened we all have been on board by Sam, and the way you were in
only a couple of days ago, when you said you saw him again here."

He looked serious again in a moment.

"Guess I don't want ter run down thet air ghostess," said he
apologetically.  "Fur I reckon a man can't go agen a thin' he sees right
afore his eyes."

"And how about the other one that Mr Steenbock spoke of?"

"Oh, thet's different, Cholly.  A chap ye sees a-sottin' down an'
a-playin' a banjo aint like a coon thet's ben buried two or three
hundred year, an' thet no one hez seed, ez I knows on, fur Jan Steenbock
never sed ez how he seed it hisself.  No, b'y, I guess I'll hev a hunt
fur thet thaar tree-sor ez he spoke on, ez soon ez ever I hev the
chance."

"Suppose we go this evening, when we strike off work?" said I--"that is,
Hiram, if you don't mind my coming with you?"

"Nary a bit, Cholly," he replied good-heartedly to this tentative
question of mine; "glad to hev ye along o' me, seeing as how we both hev
ben a-prospectin' the line o' country already."

"All right," I exclaimed joyfully.  "We'll have a good hunt for the
cave.  I wouldn't be surprised if we find it near the place where I saw
the doves, by the pool between the hills over there."

"Most like, b'y," said he, bustling about the galley and going on with
his culinary work; "but hyar comes the stooard.  Don't ye tell him
nuthin' o' what we hev ben talkin' on, or I guess the coon 'll be
wantin' to jine company, an' I don't wants him, I doesn't.  He's a
won'erful slimy sort o' cuss, an' since he's ben skeart by Sam Jedfoot's
ghostess he hez ben a durned sight too mealy-mouthed fur me!"

"I won't speak a word to him," said I.  "He's a queer sort of man, and I
don't like him either."

The entrance of the Welshman thus stopped our further conversation; for,
although Morris Jones seemed anxious to talk, Hiram only spoke in
monosyllables, giving curt answers, so that the steward in, the end
became silent too, busying himself in cooking the skipper's dinner at
one, fireplace, while the American attended to the men's tea at the
other--filling the copper with the proper ingredients, as mentioned
before, and diligently stirring its contents till it boiled.

At `two bells,' later on, in the first dog-watch, work was abandoned for
the day, all hands coming aboard to have their tea, Tom Bullover amongst
them.

"May I tell him?"  I said to Hiram, when I saw the carpenter coming
forward, after slinging himself over the bulwarks; "may I tell Tom where
we are going, and ask him to come too?"

"I don't mind, I guess," replied Hiram--"the more the merrier!"

Tom was perfectly willing; and so, half an hour later, the three of us
started on our expedition, getting over the side of the ship while the
rest of the crew were still busy with their pannikins and beef and
biscuit, so departing unobserved.

"Now we're off, I guess," said Hiram, when he had crossed over a plank
that served for a bridge over the trench alongside, which was getting
pretty deep by now.  "Let us go straight fur thet buccaneers' tree-sor,
shepmates!"

"And here's for the black man's ghost as the second-mate spoke on,"
replied Tom Bullover, with a grin.  "I specs we'll as soon find one as
t'other!"

"Durned ef I kear," said Hiram defiantly; "ghostess or no ghostess, I'm
bound fur thet pile, I am, if we ken sorter light on it!"

"I only hope we will, I'm sure," I chimed in, as the three of us made
our way across the beach and then traversed the sterile lava plain,
shaping a course for the cluster of trees between the hills, on the
right of the bay, which I had first investigated.

The doves we found as tame as ever, coo-coo-cooing away with great
unction on our approach, and beside the borders of the pool were a lot
of tortoises crawling about; but, there was no cave near, concealed in
the brushwood, although we searched through it all carefully--so we
resumed our way up the hills.

As we ascended, the scenery became wilder and wilder, the trees
increasing so greatly in size that some of the trunks of them, which
apparently belonged to the oak species, were over four feet in diameter,
growing, too, to a great height.

Nor was the scenery only wild.

About half a mile up a steep ravine, a drove of wild hogs rushed by us,
nearly knocking Hiram down, he being in advance of the exploring party.

"Jehosophat, mate!" he exclaimed to Tom, laughing as he stumbled over
him; "thaar's y'r black man's ghost, I guess."

"Carry on," replied Tom grinning; "we ain't come to him yet.  You just
wait and see!"

Further up, we came to a beautiful plain of some extent between the
hills, which had been at some former time planted for cultivation, for
bananas, sweet potatoes, yucca palms, and many other sorts of tropical
fruits were growing about in the wildest profusion.

There were the remains, too, of old buildings and broken mill machinery,
such as used in the West Indies for crushing the sugar cane, a lot of
which was planted in the vicinity; but these were of giant proportions
from not having been cut possibly for years, for, stump sprang up on top
of stump, until the root clusters covered many square yards--the canes
themselves being over twenty-five feet in height and more than fifteen
inches in circumference, of a size that would have made a
sugar-planter's mouth water.

"Guess some cuss hez ben a-cultivatin' hyar," observed Hiram, looking
critically round.  "When I wer to hum down Chicopee way--"

"Stow that, bo," said Tom Bullover, interrupting him, being always
afraid of letting the other sail off on the tack of his home
recollections, as he was doomed ever to hear the same old yarn, so that
he was sick of its repetition.  "I don't think you'll find your cave
here; them old buccaneers wouldn't be sich fools to lug all their booty
up this long way, when they could bury it more comf'able near the shore,
and likewise come upon it the easier again when they wanted it."

"Specs ye air about right, bo," answered Hiram, taking the interruption
kindly, and no ways hurt at having his Chicopee remembrances once more
nipped in the bud.  "What shall we dew?"

"Why, go down again," replied Tom.  "Here's a fresh track down to the
beach on this side which leads to another bay, I fancy.  Let's make for
it and see where it leads to."

"Fire away; I'm arter ye, bo," said the other, the two now changing
places, and Tom Bullover showing the way.  "`Foller my leader'--thet's
the game, I reckon!"

All of us laughed at this, stepping gingerly in single file after Tom,
who found some difficulty at first in pushing through the branches of
the trees, which were thickly interwoven overhead and across the path;
but the latter was distinctly marked out, being well trodden as if it
had been a regular pathway of communication at some previous time.

The bay below, to which this road led, was on the other side of the
point of land that stretched past the ship; and as we descended the hill
we could see the blue sea peeping through the trees.

Half-way down, the pathway abruptly terminated in front of what seemed a
mound of earth, although this was now overgrown with trees, covered with
orchilla weed, that enveloped their trunks and gave them quite a
venerable aspect.

"Hillo!" cried Hiram, "hyar's enuff o' thet orchilla weed thet they
vall'ys so in 'Frisco to make airy a nan's fortin' ez could carry it
thaar, I guess!"

"Is that the orchilla?"  I asked.  "I was wondering what Mr Steenbock
meant when he spoke of it."

"Aye," replied Hiram, dragging off a great bunch of it from what looked
like the decayed trunk of one of the oak trees, hollowed out by age and
exposure to the heavy tropical rains of the region, "thet's what they
calls the orchilla weed, I guess.  Hillo! though, what's this?"

"What?" exclaimed Tom Bullover and I, pressing up to where he was
stooping, scraping away at the timber; "what is it?"

"I'm durned ef it air a tree at all," said Hiram, all excitement, and
his voice thick with emotion and eager exultation.  "It's a door o' some
sort or t'other."

"Really," I said, as eager as he, helping him to pull away the fungus
growth from the now partly-exposed woodwork which, certainly, looked
like a door, as he said, "do you think so?"

"Aye, Cholly.  I'm jiggered if we ain't found the cave at last!"



CHAPTER FIFTEEN.

RIVAL APPARITIONS.

"By Jingo!" said Tom, with a deep breath, bending down and helping Hiram
to clear away the weeds and debris from the rotten old door, now clearly
disclosed to view.  "Jest fancy our lighting on it like this!"

"Perhaps it isn't a cave at all," said I, likewise breathless with
excitement, but not wishing to place my hopes too high, lest I should be
disappointed; "it's too far from the sea, I think."

"Nary a bit," retorted Hiram, doggedly.  "I'll bet my bottom dollar it's
the place sure enuff.  Hyar goes, anyhow, fur a try."

So saying, rising from his stooping posture, he administered a thumping
kick with his heavy seamen's boot against the rotten woodwork.

This instantly gave way, a thick cloud of dust rolling up; and then, a
hollow dark cavity appeared right in the centre of the mound, which we
could now see was heaped up over the wooden framework, so as to conceal
it from the notice of any one passing by.

"Hooray!" shouted Tom Bullover, waving his hat and jumping up in the air
to further express his emotion.  "We've found the buccaneers' blessed
treasure.  Look out for the ghost, Hiram!"

"Durn the ghost!" retorted the other; "not twenty on 'em wu'd kep me
back now, I guess!"

At the same moment, he made a dive to enter the opening, but Tom put his
hand on his shoulder and half pulled him back.

"Stop, bo," he said.  "There might be foul air in it, 'cause of its
being so long closed up.  Let's wait and see."

"How ken ye tell thet?" asked Hiram; "guess it don't matter a red cent
if ther air."

"You just wait," insisted Tom.  "I'll find out in a jiffey; and then, if
it's safe, we can venture in.  The cave ain't a-goin' to run away from
us, and you know the old saying, `more haste less speed!'  We're going
to do things in proper shipshape fashion, bo, so none o your rushing
matters; it'll all come right in time!"

With these words, Tom, who was a sensible, matter-of-fact fellow, with
his head screwed on straight and all his wits about him, took out a box
of matches from the inside lining of his hat, where he always kept his
pipe and tobacco and such things that he did not wish to get wet; and,
lighting one of the matches, he proceeded to hold it within the dark
cavity.

The flame flickered and then suddenly went out, although there wasn't a
breath of air stirring, the trees around preventing the sea-breeze from
reaching the spot where we stood--a sort of little hollow between the
hills.

"There you are, bo," said Tom; "see that?"

"Guess I don't underconstubble," answered Hiram, staring at him in
perplexity.  "What d'ye mean, hey?"

"Didn't you watch the match go out?" returned Tom.  "Lord, I never did
see such a feller!"

"Wa-al, what ef the durned match did fiz out?"

"Don't yer know what it means?"

"Guess not."

"It shows as how there's foul air there, bo--that's what the match's
going out means.  It tells us not to go in!"

Tom said this with a chuckle, for which Hiram gave him a dig in the
ribs.

"Hev yer own way, Chips, fur a bit," he said; "but I'm jiggered if ye
air a-going to kep me from prospectin' thet thaar hole."

"Nobody wants to," retorted Tom.  "Only just wait a bit till the
wentilation gets better and blows out all the gas.  It would a-pizened
you if I'd let you go in at first, as you wanted."

"Wa-al, go ahead, an' hev another try fur to see ef it's right now."

In reply, Tom lit a second match, and held it in the opening of the cave
as before.

This time it did not flicker so much, burning for a longer time, before
the faint flame finally expired.

"Better," said Tom; "but it ain't quite safe yet."

"Hurry up," replied Hiram.  "I'm bustin' to see thet boocaneer tree-sor
ez the mate wer talkin' on!"

After an interval of another quarter of an hour or so, while we all
waited on the tenter-hooks of suspense, an inquisitive land tortoise
waddling up to see what we were about, Tom lit a third match.

This time it burnt bravely with a clear light, which showed us something
of the interior of the cavern.  It did not show us much, though, the
darkness being too great for such a feeble illuminant to penetrate far
into it.

"Now, boys," said Tom, "I think we may venture in, as the foul air must
be pretty well spent by this time; but we'll have to get a torch or
something to see our way by, or else we shall be breaking our necks or
smashing our heads against the roof."

"Guess one o' them port fires we hev aboard would lighten it up to
rights."

"So it would," replied Tom; "but we ain't got it now, and must try and
find somethin' else to make a flare up."

"Hyar's some o' the old wood," observed the other, taking up a fragment
of the broken door, which was crumbly with age.  "Strike another match,
will ye.  I think this timber 'll burn long enuff fur us to git inside
an' prospect a few."

"Right you are, my hearty," returned the other, carrying out this
suggestion; and the next minute, the piece of old oak was in a blaze,
when, holding it up in one hand, Hiram stooped down once more and
stepped within the cave.

There was nothing there, however.

Nothing!

"Wa-all," exclaimed Hiram, after bending here and there, and searching
in every direction.  "I calls this a durned sell, I dew!"

"Hold the light up again," said Tom; "a little more to the right, bo, so
as to throw it on that dark corner there."

But nothing was to be seen save the rocky walls of the cave, which was
of peculiar shape, and more like a sort of fissure in the rock, riven
open possibly by some volcanic shock, than if made by man.  The roof was
formed of lava, it seemed to me by the light of our impromptu torch,
similar to the same substance we noticed on the arid plain near the
shore of the bay, and again below the sand at high-water mark.

There were queer fragments of rock also, placed round the hard floor of
the cavern like seats, with regular intervals between them; while
apparently in the middle, as near as we could approximate, was a raised
portion of the under stratum of rock shaped like a pulpit.

"Guess if thaar's airy tree-sor hyar, b'ys," observed Hiram, pointing to
this, "it's thaar!"

"No, bo," replied Tom, laughing, "that's the black man's pulpit, where
he preaches a Sunday, same as our `Holy Joes' do when they're ashore!"

Hiram paid no attention to this remark, but continued poking about the
place, stamping with his feet and trying in every way to see whether the
treasure we were in search of might not be buried in some spot or other;
but his trouble was all in vain.

Presently, the piece of blazing wood began to give forth a more feeble
light, being almost burnt out; and, then, all at once Hiram and I
noticed another spark of light like a round hole, at the opposite end of
the cave.

"Hillo!" shouted Hiram, "I guess thaar's another end to the durned hole,
an' we hev taken the wrong track!"

Making our way slowly, so as not to extinguish the torch, we advanced in
the direction of the new light, which got bigger and bigger as we
approached nearer to it.

There was no doubt it was another entrance to the cave, and a far more
convenient one, too, for it opened out on to a little spur of the hill
that ran down a somewhat steep declivity to the seashore below.

"It must be the buccaneers' cave," said Tom.  "It's just the sort o'
place men that were sailors would choose.  I misdoubted it at first,
from being so far inland, as I thought; but now I see it's near the
sea."

"But there ain't nary a tree-sor thaar!"

"Don't you be too cocksure o' that," returned Tom, looking about him
well, to make certain of his direction.  "Howsomdever, we ain't got the
time to search the place properly now, as it'll be dark soon, and we
ought to be aboard."

"Durned if I likes givin' it up like this."

"Never mind, bo; there'll be plenty of time for us to look the cave over
to-morrer arternoon, and I'll bring one o' them port fires you spoke on
to light up the place."

"Guess thet'll jest about do, Chips," replied Hiram, turning round, as
if about to go back within the entrance, loth to leave without finding
the buccaneers' hoard, repeating his previous exclamation: "I'm durned,
though, if I likes givin' it up like this!"

"Come along, my hearty!" cried Tom.  "Come along, Charley.  But, mind,
neither on you be telling the hands what we've found out!  There
wouldn't be a chance for us if the skipper or that drunken cur Flinders
knowed on it."

"Not me," replied Hiram, following Tom along the curve of the shore
towards a little group of trees, which I recognised now as immediately
above the pool frequented by the doves.  "I won't tell nary a soul, an'
I reckon we ken both on us anser fur Cholly?"

"Certainly," said I, replying to his implied question, as I came up
behind the two, and we started off retracing our way at once to the
ship, on the fo'c's'le of which we could see several of the men already
gathered together.  "I'm sure I won't tell anybody, for I have nobody to
tell except you, Tom, and Hiram--you're my only friends on board."

"Wait till you get hold of the buccaneers' gold, Charley," said Tom
dryly.  "You'll get plenty o' chums then, for money makes friends!"

Nothing further was said by either of us, and we presently found
ourselves once more on board, when I turned in at once, for we had
walked a goodish distance, and I was tired out.

The next afternoon, when work was ended and Hiram and I were ready to
start on another excursion to the cave, we could not find Tom.

"Nary mind thet, Cholly," said Hiram.  "I guess we ken go 'long, an'
Chips 'll pick us up by-an'-by."

Passing the grove and pool of the doves, we made our way over the brow
of the little hill beyond, and sighted the second bay; when, just as the
opening to the cave became visible, both of us heard the familiar sound
of Sam Jedfoot's banjo.

It was passing strange!

The same old air was being played upon it that we had heard immediately
before the ship struck--and, indeed, almost always prior to every
catastrophe and mischance that had happened throughout our eventful
voyage.

Hiram turned pale.

"Jee-rusalem, Cholly!" he exclaimed, at once arresting his footsteps;
"what on airth air thet?"

I was almost equally frightened.

"It--it--it--sounds like poor Sam's banjo," I stammered out.  "I--I--
hope he ha--ha--hasn't come to haunt us again!"

"Seems like," said he; and then, plucking up his courage, he started
once more for the mouth of the cave, I following close, like his shadow,
afraid to leave him now, because then I would be there by myself.
"Durned, though, if Sam's ghostess or any other cuss 'll kep me back
now.  Come on, Cholly!"

But, when we got up to the entrance, we saw a sight that stopped us at
once, Hiram dropping to the ground as if he had been shot.

There, sitting on the very rock at the back which Tom Bullover had joked
about on the previous day as being the `ghost's pulpit' was the dim
apparition of a man, the very image of our whilom negro cook, leaning
back and playing the banjo, just as Sam used to do on board the _Denver
City_.

But, stranger still, even as I looked, a queer supernatural sort of
light suddenly illumined the interior of the cavern, and I saw another
apparition rise, as it were, out of the darkness, immediately behind the
one on the rock, the last spectral form raising its hand threateningly.

I stood there at the mouth of the cave, almost paralysed with terror,
watching the weird scene that was being enacted within, the wonderful
electrical glare making every detail come out in strong relief and
lighting up the whole place, so that it was as bright as day.

Not the slightest incident escaped my notice.

As the second apparition rose from behind the rock at the back of the
cavern, the first figure, which I had believed up to now really to be
the negro cook's ghost or spirit, permitted for some occult purpose or
other to revisit the earth, also jumped up out of the corner, dropping
the banjo incontinently.

Not only this, the original ghost, spirit, or what you will, displayed
an abject fright that was too real for any inhabitant of the other world
to assume; for the face of the ghost in an instant grew as long as my
arm, while its woolly hair crinkled up on top of its head until it
became erect and stiff as a wire brush.

At the same time, the eyes of this first `ghost,' distended with fear,
rolled round and round, the white eyeballs contrasting with the darker
skin of the face, which, however, appeared to have become of an ashy
grey colour, instead of black--though whether this was from the effects
of fear or owing to the peculiar light that shone full upon it I could
not tell, nor, indeed, puzzled my mind at the time to inquire.

The two figures thus confronted each other for about the space of a
second, the headless apparition rising and rising till it seemed to
touch the roof of the cave, when it extended its wide arms and made a
clutch at the other, and now trembling, figure in front.

This was too much for the banjo-playing spectre.

Uttering a wild yell that only a human throat could have emitted, and
with his mouth open as wide as the mouth of the cave towards which he
rushed, Sam Jedfoot--for it was his own substantial self, I saw, and no
ghost at all, as I was now convinced--cleared in two bounds the
intervening space that lay between him and the entrance to the cavern,
seeking to get away as far as possible from his terrible visitant.
Apparently, he must have thought the other to be the `genuine Simon
Pure,' come to punish him for his false pretences in making believe to
be a denizen of the spirit world whilst he was yet in the flesh, and so
poaching unlawfully on what was by right and title the proper domain of
the ghostal tribe!

In his hurry and haste, however, to avoid this avenging spectre, poor
Sam, naturally, did not see me standing in front of the cave blocking
the entrance, nor had I time to get out of his way, so as to avoid the
impetuous rush he made for the opening.

The consequences may be readily surmised.

He came against me full butt, and we both tumbled to the ground headlong
together all of a heap.

Sam thereupon imagined the terrible apparition to be clutching him, and
that his last hour had come.

"Oh, golly!  De debbel's got me, de debbel's got me fo' suah!" he roared
out in an agony of terror, clawing at my clothes and nearly tearing the
shirt off my back in his attempts to regain his feet, as we rolled over
and over together down the decline towards the shore.  "Lor', a mussy!
Do forgib me dis time, Massa Duppy, fo' play-actin' at ghostesses, an' I
promises nebber do so no moah!  O Lor'!  O Lor'!  I'se a gone niggah!
Bress de Lor', fo' ebbah an' ebbah!  Amen!"



CHAPTER SIXTEEN.

SAM JEDFOOT'S YARN.

"Ho-ho-ho!  I shall die a-laughing!" exclaimed another voice at this
juncture, interrupting Sam's terrified appeal to the spiritual powers.
"Ho-ho-ho!  I shall die a-laughing!"

The voice sounded like that of Tom Bullover; but, before I could look up
to see if it were really he, Sam and I, the negro cook still clutching
me tightly in his frantic grasp as we rolled down the little declivity
on to the beach below the entrance to the cave, fetched up against
Hiram; who, only just recovering from the shock he had received, was
then in the act of rising from the ground, where he had dropped at the
sight of Sam and his banjo--still dazed with the fright, and hardly yet
knowing where he was or what had happened.

"My golly!" cried Sam, thinking him another ghost.  "Lor' sakes!  Massa
Duppy, do forgib me!  I'll nebbah do so moah, I'se swarr I'll nebbah do
so no moah!"

"Wa-all, I'm jiggered!" ejaculated Hiram, on the two of us coming
against him with a thump, nearly knocking him again off his legs, as we
scrambled to ours.  "What in thunder dew this air muss mean?
Jee-rusalem--it beats creation, it dew!"

Neither Sam nor I could get out a word; but, while we all stared, out of
breath and speechless with astonishment, at each other, another wild
shout of laughter came right over our heads from within the cave above,
and I heard Tom's voice exclaiming, as before--

"Ho-ho-ho! you'll be the death o' me sure, sonnies!  I never seed sich a
go in my life!  Hang it all--Charley and Hiram, and you, Sambo--why,
it's only me!  Ho-ho-ho!  I shall bust meself, if you go staring round
and wool-gathering like that any longer!  Ho-ho-ho! this is a game, and
no mistake!"

With that, the three of us looked up, and now saw Tom Bullover standing
on top of the plateau in front of the cave, with a sort of long white
sheet like a piece of sailcloth round him, and Sam's banjo in one hand.

Then, the real facts of the case flashed on my mind in a moment, and I
could not help joining in the carpenter's hearty merriment at the way in
which he had humbugged us all.

"Oh, Tom!"  I cried; "so it was you, after all?"

"Yes; ho-ho!  Charley; yes, my lad.  Ho-ho-ho!"

"Guess I don't see nuthin' to snigger over!" growled Hiram, shamefaced
at being so readily imposed on; but he was too good a sailor to mind a
joke against himself, and the comicality of the situation striking him,
too, like me, he was soon laughing as loudly as Tom and I.

Sam only needed this further secession likewise to set him off, his
negro nature possessing the hysterical features of his race, and going
readily from one extreme to the other.

A second before he had been paralysed with fright; now he was as
instantly convulsed with glee.

"My gosh!" he yelled, showing his ivories as his whole face expanded
into one big guffaw that utterly eclipsed all our attempts at merriment.
"Hoo-hoo, yah-yah!  Dat am prime, Cholly--black ghost fo' whitey!
Hoo-hoo, yah-yah!  I'se die a-laffin', like Tom!  Black ghost fo'
whitey!--Hoo-hoo, yah-yah, hoo-hoo!  Golly!  Dat am prime, fo' suah!"

Sam's negro abandon and queer gestures, as he danced about and doubled
himself up in his wild convulsions of mirth, were absolutely
irresistible; and so we all roared in concert, like a party of lunatics,
laughing until the tears actually ran down our cheeks.

"An' how did yer fix the hull thing so smartly?" inquired the American,
presently when he was able to speak.  "Ye took me in finely, I guess; ye
did thet so!"

"Lor', old ship! that were easy enough, when you comes to think of it."

"But, how?" persisted Hiram, as Tom broke off his explanation to indulge
in another laugh.  "Hyar's Sam, what was ded, alive agen an' kickin', ez
my shins ken tell, I reckon!  How about his hauntin' the shep, an' all
thet?"

"Yes, Tom," I put in here; "how was it that he wasn't killed?"

"Oh, Sam 'll explain all about his bizness," replied Tom, laughing
again, the ridiculous nature of the whole thing appealing strongly to
his risible faculties.  "I've got enough to do to tell you about my own
ghost--the sperrit, that is, of the black man that our second-mate spun
that yarn about yesterday arternoon!"

"A-ah!" drawled out Hiram; "I begins to smell a rat, I dew."

"But, suah dat 'perrit wasn't reel, hey, Mass' Tom?" interposed Sam, his
eyeballs starting again out of his head, as he recollected all the
mysterious occurrences in the cave.  "Dat 'perrit wasn't reel, hey?
I'se take um fo' duppy, suah?"

"No, ye durned fule!" exclaimed Hiram, quite indignantly; "don't ye know
thet?"

"Some people weren't so wise just now," said Tom Bullover dryly; "eh,
Hiram?"

"Nary mind 'bout thet," growled the American, giving Tom a dig in the
ribs playfully.  "Heave ahead with yer yarn, or we'll never git in the
slack of it 'fore nightfall!"

"Well then, here's the long and short of it," said Tom, sitting down on
the top of the little cliff-mound, so as to make himself as comfortable
as possible, while we stood grouped around him.  "You see, now, our
Dutch mate's story about the nigger that the buccaneers used to bury
with their treasure put me up to taking a rise out of our friend Sambo
here, who, though he was artful enough to play at being a ghost and
haunt the ship, as you fellows thought all through the v'yage, was yet
mortal 'fraid of them same ghostesses hisself, as I well knowed!"

"Oh, Lor', Mass' Tom, dunno say dat," interrupted Sam reproachfully.
"Speak fo' true, an' shame de debble!"

"That's just what I'm doing, darkey.  You know I'm speaking the truth;
and I'm sure Charley and Hiram here can judge for theirselves, from what
they saw not long ago!"

"Bully for ye!" cried Hiram, confirming Tom Bullover's reference to
himself.  "Why, ye durned nigger, ye wer a'most yeller with frit jest
now, when ye kinder thought ye seed one o' them blessed ghostesses thet
Tom wer a-talkin' on!"

This effectually shut up Sam; and my friend the carpenter then went on
with his account of the phenomenon we had seen.

"I knew," said he, "that the darkey would be up here this arternoon, for
I showed him the cave myself this mornin', afore any of you beggars
aboard the ship were up or stirring.  I thought it would be just a good
place for him to hide in, besides preventing the skipper and that brute
Flinders, or any of the other hands, from coming spying round and
interfering with our diskevery, which, as you know--I means you Charley
and Hiram--we wished for to keep to ourselves."

"Ay, bo," assented Hiram approvingly; "true enuff; ye acted rightly,
shipmet."

"So I tells Sam to rig hisself up here as comf'ably as he could; and if
he should hear any footsteps comin' nigh the place he was to strike up a
tune on his banjo and frighten them away, makin' any inquisitive folk
think the place was haunted by the same old ghost they knew aboard the
ship."

"What a capital idea!" said I; "how did you come to think of it?"

"I thought of more than that, Charley," replied Tom, with a broad grin.
"It wasn't long arter I brought Sam here that I thought of makin' the
second ghost out of the proper black man belonging to the cave, that Jan
Steenbock had told us on, and which you, Hiram, said you wouldn't be
frightened at nohow."

"Stow thet," growled Hiram, shaking his fist at Tom.  "Carry on with yer
yarn, an' don't mind me, old stick-in-the-mud!"

"I'm carryin' on, if you'll only let a feller tell his story in his own
way.  You know we agreed to come up here together this arternoon, and
make a reg'ler up-and-down search for the buried treasure; and you told
me, you rec'lect, to bring a port fire, such as we had aboard, for to
light up the place."

"Thet's right enuff," said Hiram, "thet's right enuff; but, durn it all,
heave ahead, bo!  Heave ahead!"

"Well then," continued Tom, "I gets this blessed jigmaree of a port fire
from the ship; and, having done my spell at digging out the dock, my
gang finishing work at four bells, I com'd up here afore you and
Charley.  It were then that I thinks of having a bit of a game with old
Sam, while I was waitin' for you two to join company and look for the
treasure together, as we agreed atween us when we first diskivered the
place."

"And you didn't intend to frighten us, Tom?"  I asked him at this point;
"mind, really?"

"No, I'll take my davy I didn't--that is, not at first," replied he,
grinning in his usual way.  "Arterwards, in course, I couldn't help it,
when you and our Chickopee friend here took the bait so finely."

"Ah!  I'll pay you out, bo, for it," cried Hiram, interrupting Tom, as I
had done, "never you fear.  I'll pay you out, my hearty, 'fore this time
to-morrow come-never--both me and Cholly will tew, I guess, sirree!"

"Threaten'd men live long," observed Tom with a dry chuckle.  "Still,
that ain't got nothin' to do with this here yarn.  I com'd up, as I were
sayin', a good half-hour afore you; and, to spin out the time, I goes
round to the cave by the way where we first lighted on it t'other day,
and gets inside by the hole through the broken old door where we entered
it afore our reaching this end."

"And then?"  I asked, on Tom's pausing for a moment in his
narrative--"and then?"

"Why, then I saw poor Sam, with his back turned towards me, a-sittin'
down on that rock as we called `the ghost's pulpit,' and playin' his
blessed old banjo as sweetly as you please, without thinkin' that I or
any one else were within miles of him!  So, seein' this were a good
chance for finding whether Master Sammy, as was thought a ghost hisself
aboard, liked ghosts as he didn't know of, I catches up a bit o'
sailcloth that was lying on the ground, which he'd taken up there to
sarve for his bed, and, I claps this over my head and shoulders, like a
picter my mother had in the parlour at home of `Samuel and the Witch of
Endor.'  Then, I lights the port fire and gives a yell to rouse up the
darkey, and arter that--ho-ho! my hearties, you knows what happened.
Ho-ho! it was as good as a play!"

"Golly!  Me taut yer one duppy, fo' suah, Massa Tom!" said Sam, after
another chorus of laughter from all of us all round.  "Me taut yer was
de debble!"

"Not quite so bad as that, my hearty," mildly suggested Tom, grinning at
the compliment.  "Still, I don't think I made such a bad ghost
altogether for a green hand!"

"Don't ye kinder think ye frit me, bo!" declaimed Hiram vehemently.  "It
wer the sight o' thet durned nigger thaar, a-sottin' an playin' his
banjo--him ez we all thought ez ded ez a coffin nail, an' buried fathoms
below the sea, an' which all on us hed b'leeved ter hev haunted the shep
fur the hull v'y'ge.  Ay, thet it wer, streenger, what ez frit me an'
made me fall all of a heap, an' thaar I lies till Cholly an' the durned
nigger riz me up agen by tumblin' athwart my hawse!"

"I think I was the most frightened of all," I now frankly confessed, on
Hiram thus bravely acknowledging his own terror.  "I really for the
moment believed that I was actually looking at two real, distinct
ghosts, or spirits--the one that of Sam, which you, Tom and Hiram, know
I already thought I had seen before on board the ship; and the second
apparition that of the negro slave which Mr Steenbock told us of.  But,
how is it that Sam is here at all--how did he escape?"

"Let him tell his yarn in his own way, the same as I have done mine,"
replied Tom.  "Ax him."

"Now Sam," said I, "tell us all about it."

"Ay, dew," chimed in Hiram; "fire away, ye old black son of a gun!"

"All right, Mass' Hiram an' yer, too, Cholly.  I'se tell you de trute,
de hole trute, an' nuffin' but de trute, s'help me!"

"Carry on, you blooming old crocodile, carry on!"

Taking Tom Bullover's words in the sense in which they were meant, as a
sort of friendly encouragement to proceed, Sam, nothing loath to air his
long-silent tongue, soon satisfied the eager curiosity of Hiram and
myself--giving us a full account of his adventures from the time that we
saw him drop from the rigging, when all the crew, with the solitary
exception of his ally the carpenter, believed him to have been murdered
and his body lost overboard.

"I'se specks," he commenced, "dat yer all 'members when de cap'en shake
him billy-goat beard, an' shoot dis pore niggah in de tumjon, an' I'se
drop inter de bottom ob de sea, hey?"

"Yes," replied Hiram; while I added: "But, how on earth did you manage
to save your life and get on board again?"

"Dis chile cleberer dan yer tinks," replied Sam proudly.  "When de
cap'en shoot, I'se jump one side like de Bobolink bird, an' de bullet,
dat he tink go troo my tumjon, go in de air.  I'se make one big
miscalkerfation, dough, fo' my han' mis de riggin' when I'se stretch up
to catch him, an' I'se tumble inter de water."

"Poor Sam!" said I.  "Your heart must have come right into your mouth,
eh?"

"Inter my mout, sonny?" he repeated after me.  "Bress yer, it come up
inter my mout, an' I'se swaller it agen, an' him go right down to de pit
ob my tumjon!  Lor', Cholly, I'se tink I wer drown, fo' suah, an' nebbah
come up no moah, fo' de wave come ober my head an' ebberyting!  Den,
jest as I'se scrape along de side ob de ship an' wash away aft in de
wake astern, I'se catch holt ob de end ob de boom-sheet, dat was tow
oberboard."

"Ye hev got thet durned lubber Jim Chowder to thank fur thet," said
Hiram, interrupting him to explain this fortunate circumstance, which I
now recollected Captain Snaggs alluding to when I was waiting at table
in the cabin the same evening, before the tragic occurrence happened.
"It's the fust time I ever recomembers ez how an unsailorlike act like
thet ever did good to airy a soul!"

"Nebbah yer min' dat, Mas' Hiram," rejoined Sam, with much heartiness.
"I'se allers tink afore dat Jim Chowder one pore cuss, but now I'se pray
fo' him ebbery day ob my life!"

"Ay, bo," said Tom, with affected gravity; "and for me to, eh?"

"I will, suah," answered Sam, in the same serious way in which he had
previously spoken, not wishing to joke about the matter.  "But, Jim
Chowder or no Jim Chowder, who ebbah let dat rope tow oberboard was sabe
my life!  I'se catch holt ob him an' climb on ter de rudder chain, where
I'se hang wid my head out ob de water till it was come dark, an' de
night grow ober de sea.  Den, when I'se tink de cap'en drink nuff rum to
get drunk, an' not fo' see me come on board agen, I'se let my ole leg
wash up wid de wave to de sill ob de stern port; an' den, when I'se look
an see dere was nobody in de cabin, I'se smash de glass ob de window an'
climb inside."

"And then it was, I suppose," said I, taking up the burden of his story,
"that I took your real self, as you crept through the cabin, for your
ghost?"

"Dat troo, Cholly.  Yer see me, dough, by de light ob de moon, fo' I'se
take care blow out de swing lamp in cabin, dat nobody might see nuffin.
I'se reel glad, dough, dat I'se able friten de cap'en an' make him tink
see um duppy!"

"Wa-all, I guess ye come out o' that smart enuff," said Hiram, with a
hearty thump of approval that doubled up poor Sam, more effectually than
his convulsions of laughter had previously done.  "But, whaar did ye
manage ter stow yerself when ye comed out o' the cabin?"

"I'se creep along de deck, keepin' under de lee ob de moonlight; an' den
when nobody was lookin' I'se go forwards an' crawl down into the
forepeak.  Den, it was dat Mass' Tom hyar see me."

"And a pretty fine fright you gave me too!" said that worthy, bursting
out into another laugh at the recollection.  "It was the next mornin',
as I went down into the sail room under the forepeak, to fetch up a
spare tops'le, when I comes across my joker here.  I caught hold at
first of his frizzy head, thinking it were a mop one of the hands had
forgotten below; but when I turned my lantern there I seed Sam, who I
thought miles astern, safe and snug in old Davy Jones' locker.  Lord!
shipmates, you could ha' knocked me down with a feather and club-hauled
me for a nincompoop!"

"Wer ye ez frit ez I wer jest now?" asked Hiram quizzingly.  "Mind,
quite ez much ez I wer?"

"Ay, bo," replied Tom, "I dessay I were, if the truth be told."

This pleased Hiram immensely.

"Then, I guess I don't see whaar yer crow comes in, my joker!" he
exclaimed, giving Tom a similar thump on the back to that which he had a
short time before bestowed on Sam--a slight token of affection by no
means to be sneezed at.  "Why, ye wer cacklin' like a durned old hen
with one egg, 'bout Cholly an' I bein' frit jest now, thinkin' we seed
Sam's ghostess, when hyar, ye sez now, ye wer frit yerself the same at
the fust sight ye seed of him!"

"Ay, bo; but I wern't going to tell you that, nor 'bout another fright I
next had, when the darkey and I were a-smoking down in the forepeak and
nearly set the ship a-fire," said Tom knowingly, with a shrewd,
expressive wink to each of us respectively in turn, before he resumed
his story.  "But, to go on properly with my yarn from the beginning,
when I found Sam's head wasn't a mop, but belonged to his real darkey
self, and that he wasn't drownded after all, why, I made him as snug as
I could down below, thinking it were best for him to keep hid, for if
the skipper saw him on dock and knew he were alive he would soon be
shooting him again, or else ill-treating him in the way he had already
done.  Sam agreed to act by my advice on my promising to take him down
grub and all he might want into the forepeak; but, bless you, the
contrary darkey wouldn't act up to this arrangement arter a day or two."

"Dat was 'cause yer hab forget to bring de grub," interposed Sam, to
explain this apparent breach of contract on his part.  "I'se cook, an'
not used fo' ter go widout my vittles fo' nobody!"

"How could I get below to you when we had bad weather and the hatches
were battened down?" retorted Tom Bullover, in his turn.  "Howsomdever,
to stop arguefying, Master Sammy, finding himself hungry and knowing
something of the stowage below from having been in the ship on a
previous voyage, he manages to work a passage through the hold to the
after part right under the cuddy; and from there my gentleman, if you
please, makes his way on deck again through the hatchway in the
captain's cabin, not forgetting to rummage the steward's pantry for
provisions when he goes by!"

"An' mighty little grub was dere, suah," put in the negro cook, with
great dignity.  "I'se feel mean as a pore white if yer was ebbah come to
my galley an' fin' sich a scrubby lot tings!  Dere was nuffin' fit fo' a
decent culler'd pusson ter eat--dat feller Morris Jones one big skunk!"

"I guess ye air 'bout right," agreed Hiram; while Tom and I signified
our assent likewise by nodding our heads with great unction.  "He's the
biggest skunk I ever wer shipmets with afore!"

"Let him slide, for he don't consarn us now," said Tom, continuing the
narrative of Sam's story.  "Well, you must know, our darkey friend here,
having taken first to prowling about the ship for grub, keeps it up
arterwards for pleesure and devarshun, thinking it a jolly lark to make
the hands believe the old barquey was haunted.  Then, one day he gets
hold of his banjo from out of Hiram's chest in the fo'c's'le, where old
Chicopee really did stow it away arter he bought it at the auction o'
Sam's traps, as he thought he did, although I persuaded him and you
Charley, too, if you remember, that the banjo had been left hanging up
still in the galley in the place where Sam used to keep it.  Once,
indeed, when Sam forgot to put it back arter playing on it in the hold,
where he had taken it, I brought it up and hung it on its old peg in the
galley right afore your very eyes, Hiram!"

"I recollect, Tom," said I; "and so, Sam used to play on it in the hold
below, then, when we heard the mysterious music coming from we knew not
where?"

"Yes, that's so," replied he.  "At first, Sam touched the strings only
now and then, 'specially when the wind was blowing high, and he thought
that nobody would hear the sound from the rattling of the ship's timbers
and all; but, when I noticed how you above on deck could distinguish,
not only the notes of the banjo, but also the very air that Sam played,
and how the skipper was terrified and almost frightened out of his boots
when he recognised the tune, which he had heard Sam chaunt often and
often in the galley of an evening, why, then, I puts up the darkey to
keep on the rig, so as to punish our brute of a skipper for his
cold-blooded attempt at murdering poor Sam--which, but for the
interposition of Providence, would have succeeded!"

Before Tom could proceed any further, however, consternation fell upon
us all, as if a bombshell had burst in our midst; for, Sam, who was
looking the opposite way to us and could see over our heads, suddenly
sprang upon his feet, his mouth open from ear to ear and his teeth
chattering with fear, while his short, woolly hair seemed literally to
crinkle up and stand on end.

"O Lor'!  O Lor'!" he exclaimed.  "Look dere!  Look dere!"

And there, right before us, stood the skipper himself, snorting and
sniffing and foaming with rage, his keen, ferrety eyes piercing us
through and through--so close, that his long nose almost touched me, and
his billy-goat beard seemed to bristle right into my face, I being the
nearest to him.

I felt a cold shiver run through me that froze the very marrow of my
bones!

Captain Snaggs had, no doubt, overheard all our conversation, listening
quietly, hidden behind the bushes that grew up close to the entrance to
the cave, until Tom's last words proved too much for his equanimity,
when his indignation forced him to come out from his retreat.  He was
certainly in an awful rage, for he was so angry that he could hardly
speak at first, but fairly sputtered with wrath; and, if a look would
have annihilated us, we mast all have been killed on the spot.

He was a terrible sight!

"Oh, thet's yer little game, my jokers!" he yelled out convulsively, as
soon as he could articulate his words, glaring at us each in turn.  "So,
thet durned nigger ain't dead, arter all, hey?  Snakes an' alligators!
Why, it's a reg'ler con-spiracy all round--rank mutiny, by thunder!  I
guess I'll hev ye all hung at the yard-arm, ev'ry man Jack of ye, fur
it, ez sure ez my name's Ephraim O Snaggs!"

His passion was so intense that we were spellbound for the moment, not
one of us venturing to speak or reply to his threats--he staring at us
as if he could `eat us without salt,' as the saying goes, while we
remained stock-still and silent before him.

As for Sam, he wallowed on the ground in terror, for the captain looked
and acted like a madman.

Hiram Bangs alone had the pluck to open his mouth and confront the
skipper.



CHAPTER SEVENTEEN.

MR FLINDERS IN A FIX.

Before relating what next occurred, however, I must break off at this
point and make a slight bend in my yarn here, in order to mention
something that happened immediately before, and which, although I did
not come to hear of it until afterwards, had to do with bringing the
skipper so suddenly down upon us.  Something, indeed, that tended to
infuriate him all the more, with Tom Bullover and Sam; for, from his
hearing, by their own confession, that they had planned and kept up the
delusion about the cook's ghost on purpose to deceive him, he was led to
believe that these two had got the better of him in another matter, even
more important still in his estimation.

And so, as I am only a youngster and a poor hand at telling a story,
though I find somehow or other I'm getting to the end of my yarn sooner
than I expected when I first set to work writing it, I think I had best
pat down everything that happened in its proper place and order, `in
regular shipshape Bristol fashion,' so that no hitch may occur by-and-by
that might `bring me up with a round turn,' when, perhaps, I could sail
on with a free sheet and a fair wind to what you landfolk and
longshoremen would call my `denouement'--a sad one, though, it be, as
you'll learn later on, all in good time, as I spin my yarn in my free
and easy way!

Well, to go back a bit now, you must know that ever since the thrashing
he got from our second-mate, Mr Flinders had kept himself very quiet;
not interfering in any way with the work of dismantling and unloading
the ship, but leaving the charge of all this in the hands of Jan
Steenbock and Tom Bullover--under, of course, the immediate supervision
of Captain Snaggs, who, was here, there, and everywhere, pretending to
do an awful lot, although really only occupying his time when he wasn't
drinking in bullying those of the men, who being tame-spirited, put up
with his bad language.

It must be said, though, for the skipper, that he generally left the old
hands alone, for they returned his choicest epithets in kind, always
giving him quite as good in the rude vernacular as he gave--discipline
being rather slack now the vessel was ashore, as in the merchant service
a wreck is supposed by the crew to dissolve all contracts and annul
whatever articles may have been signed.  Such, at least, is my
experience of the sea.

During this interregnum of duty, the first-mate hardly ever left his
bunk on board the ship save to go into the cabin and partake of what
meals Morris Jones, the steward, provided him with just when that lazy
beggar of a Welshman liked.

Here he remained for over a week, nursing his damaged eyes and general
injuries and, no doubt, brooding over the revenge which he contemplated
taking at some future period on his late successful antagonist; for, his
jealousy had been keenly aroused by the marked partiality Captain Snaggs
had shown in favour of Jan Steenbock, although previously he had always
chummed with him--and, indeed, even now, in spite of all that had
passed, the captain still occasionally invited him to a friendly orgy in
the cabin, when both, as usual, of course, got royally drunk together as
of yore!

But, since the finding of the golden Madonna and the development of the
treasure-hunting craze amongst us, Mr Flinders had begun to come out
from his temporary obscurity, while not at first actually pushing
himself forward, or taking any prominent part in our daily routine.

This modest diffidence was due to the fact that the men used to make
audible remarks in reference to his `lovely black eyes,' but as soon as
the tint of these gradually merged from green to yellow and then buck to
their normal tone, the first-mate grew bumptious and endeavoured to
resume his old position of chief officer in the absence of the skipper,
when the latter frequently went off alone, as it was his habit now, in
solitary search of the buccaneers' buried hoard like all the rest of
us--notwithstanding that in public he utterly pooh-poohed its
problematical existence and urged on the crew in digging out the dock
under the ship, so as to get her afloat again, the only good, as he
said, that we could expect from the island being the hope of leaving it
behind us as quickly as possible.

He was an artful hand, was Captain Snaggs!

He thought that if he dissuaded the men from looking for the treasure he
might have the greater chance of coming across it himself.

Such being the case, the skipper would sometimes sneak off in the middle
of the day when work used to grow rather slack at our excavating task,
in consequence of the greater heat at that time; for, the sea-breeze
which we used to have with us from the early morning then gradually died
away, while the light airs that blew off the land during the afternoon
and night-time did not usually spring up until nearly sunset.

Then it was that Mr Flinders saw his opportunity; and, as regularly as
the skipper would disappear in the distance over the lava field fronting
the beach, saying, as he always did, that he was going up the cliff on
our port hand `to see if he could sight any passing vessel'--although
the sharpest eyes amongst our lookouts had never yet seen the captain's
lean and angular form on top of the said cliff--so, regularly, did the
first-mate stealthily descend the side ladder that led from the poop of
the ship down to the beach.

Once arrived here, his delight was to overlook the men as they lazily
dug out the concrete-like sand and shingle at the bottom of the trench,
filling baskets with the debris below which their fellows above hoisted
up none the more energetically; and the first-mate could not help
noticing that while Jan Steenbock purred them on now and then for a
brief spell, he let them, as a rule, take things easily; at this heated
period of the day, for Jan was wise enough to see that by not
overworking them then he got more labour out of his gang when the
temperature grew cooler, and the men could dig with greater "go."

For a while, Mr Flinders did not interfere with Jan's method of
procedure, seeing, as any sensible man would, that the second-mate's
plan answered its purpose of getting the most out of the hands without
making them grumble unduly at their unwonted task; but, soon his love of
carping at others asserted itself, and this feeling, coupled with the
desire to assert such petty authority as he still had, overcame his
sense of prudence, as well as all recollection of the sharp lesson he
had received from Jan not so very long before.

The difference between the skipper and Mr Flinders was, that, although
the former was essentially cruel and a bully of the first water, he was
yet physically brave and a cute, cautious man, who, when sober, knew how
far he might venture in his harsh treatment of those under him; while
the first-mate, on the contrary, was an utter coward at heart, and of as
malicious and spiteful a disposition as he was fond of tyrannising over
such as he thought he could ill-treat with impunity.

It never takes long for sailors to `reckon up' their officers; so, it
need hardly be said to which of the two the hands paid the most
attention when he gave an order.  As to liking either, that was out of
the case; but where the men feared Captain Snaggs, the only feeling they
had for Mr Flinders was one of contempt--paying back all his snarlings
and bullyings in a way that the hands, well knew how to drive home to
one of his temperament, as sensitive as it was mean!

Consequently, when, after a bit, he commenced finding fault with this
one and that, the men would shove their tongues in their cheek and shrug
their shoulders.  They did not pay the slightest regard to anything he
said; while the more bolder spirits, perhaps, of the stamp of Jim
Chowder, winked openly the one to the other, expressing an opinion in a
sufficiently loud enough tone for him to hear that `if he didn't look
out,' he would soon become possessed of a pair of eyes "blacker than
he'd had afore!"

Then, naturally, there would be a snigger all round, when Mr Flinders
had to turn away with a scowl on his unpleasant, cross-grained face.  He
hated Jan Steenbock all the more, because when the jeering crew
displayed their insubordination more strongly than usual, Jan would very
properly recall them to their duty--an order which on being given by the
second-mate was promptly obeyed, whilst they utterly disregarded even
the most trivial command from him, just as they mocked at his
reprimands.

This was only noticeable at first, though; for, after a few days'
experience of this `playing second fiddle,' Mr Flinders, waxing
stronger as his injuries improved and the discoloration of his `lovely
black eyes' became less apparent, seemed to resolve on trying a fresh
tack.  Taking higher ground, instead of idly endeavouring to get the men
to treat him with respect, he once more tackled his subordinate superior
Jan, who, he thought, from his treating him civilly, was sorry for the
`little misunderstanding' that had occurred between them, and would
readily `knuckle under' now, the moment he assumed his legitimate role
and `topped the officer' over him.

Mr Flinders never made a greater mistake in his life than in thus
attempting to act up to the axiom of the old Latin adage, which teaches
us that "necessity makes even cowards brave."

He had far better have remained content with his titular dignity; for,
in seeking to resume the reins of power which he had once let fall, he
only received another lesson from Jan Steenbock, teaching him that a
placid man was not necessarily one who would quietly put up with insult
and rough treatment, and proving that the tables of life are frequently
turned in fact as they sometimes are in figure of speech!

This is a long palaver; but I will soon come to the point of it all, and
tell what subsequently happened.

You must recollect, though, that I was not on the spot myself, and am
only indebted to Jim Chowder for hearing of it--being indeed, at that
very time, on my way with Hiram to the cave and the wonderful surprise
that awaited us there, an account of which I have just related.

Hiram and I had not long left the shore, said Jim, when the mate, who
had his dinner rather late that day, on account of having been up with
the skipper drinking all through the previous night, came down the
ship's side, looking very seedy and ill-tempered from the effects of his
carouse, and with his face all blotchy and his nose red.

He had already been swearing at the steward for keeping him waiting for
his grub, and this appeared to have `got his hand in,' for he had no
sooner come up to where Jan Steenbock was at work with the port watch
digging in the trench, the second-mate setting the men a good example by
wielding a pick as manfully as the best of them, than Mr Flinders began
at Jan in his old abusive fashion, such as all on board the ship had
been familiar with before the wreck and prior to his thrashing, which
certainly had quieted him down for a time.

"Ye durned lop-handled coon!" cried out the cantankerous bully, looking
down on Jan from the top of the plank that crossed the trench, and
served as a sort of gangway between the foot of the side ladder and the
firm ground beyond the excavation.  "Why don't ye put yer back into it?
Ye're a nice sort o' skallywag to hev charge of a gang--ye're only
a-playin' at workin', ye an' the hull pack on yer; fur the durned dock
ain't nary a sight deeper than it wer at four bells yester arternoon, I
reckon!"

Jan Steenbock was in no wise disturbed by this exordium.

Dropping his pick, he looked up at the mate; while the rest of the men
likewise stopped working, waiting to see what would happen, and grinning
and nudging each other.

"Mine goot mans," said he in his deep voice, with unruffled composure,
"vas you sbeak to mees?"

Mr Flinders jumped up and down on the plank gangway, making it sway to
and fro with his excitement.

"Vas I sbeak to ye?" he screamed, mimicking in his shrill treble the
Dane's pronunciation.  "Who else sh'ud I speak to, ye Dutch son of a
gun?  Stir yer stumps, d'ye haar, an' let us see ye airnin' yer keep, ye
lazy hound!"

"Mistaire Vlinders!"

"Aye, thet's me; I'm glad ye reck'lect I've a handle to my name."

"Mistaire Vlinders," repeated Jan, paying no attention to the other's
interruption.  "If you vas sbeak to me, you vas best be zee-vil."

"What d'ye mean?" cried the mate.  "Durn yer imperence; what d'ye mean?"

"I mean vat I zays," returned Jan; "and eef you vas not zee-vil, I vas
make yous."

"Make me!" shouted out Mr Flinders, dancing with rage on the plank, so
that it swung about more than ever.  "Make me, hey?  I'd like to see ye,
my hearty!"

But, while the plank was yet oscillating beneath his feet, one of the
men in the trench below, by a dexterous drive of his pick, loosened the
earth on the side of the excavation; and, hardly had Mr Flinders got
out his defiant words than he and the plank on which he was standing
came tumbling down, the bully going plump into the pool of water that
had accumulated at the open end of the trench forming a little lake over
four feet deep.

Of course, the hands all shouted with laughter, their mirth growing all
the merrier when the mate presently emerged from his impromptu bath, all
dripping and plastered over with mud.

He was in a terrible rage, Jim Chowder said; and as Jan Steenbock came
up to help him, he aimed a blow at him with a spade which he clutched
hold of from one of the hands, almost splitting Jan's head open, for the
thick felt hat he wore only saved his life.

"Thaar, ye durned Dutch dog!" he yelled out.  "Take thet fur yer sass!"

Jan fell to the bottom of the trench; whereupon, the men, thinking Mr
Flinders had murdered him, at once rushed upon the mate in a body,
thrusting him backwards into the water again and rolling him over in the
mud and refuse, until he was pretty well battered about and nearly
drowned.

Indeed, he would, probably, have been settled altogether, but for Jan
rising up, little the worse for the blow that he had received, saving
that some blood was trickling down his face.

"Shtop, my mans, shtop!" he exclaimed.  "Let hims get oop, he vas not
hoort me, aftaire all; and I vas vorgif hims, vor he vas not know vat he
vas do!"

But the hands were too much incensed to let the bully off so easily, for
they hated him as much as they liked Jan and were indignant at the
unprovoked assault Mr Flinders had made upon him.  As luck would have
it, while they were debating how they should pay him out properly, and
whether to give him another ducking in the muddy water or no, a happy
means presented itself to them for punishing him in a much more
ignominious manner, and one which was as original as it was amusing.

The big tortoises that inhabited the island used to come backwards and
forwards past the beach on their passage up to the hills, utterly
regardless of the ship and the men working, especially towards the
evening, as now; and just as the fracas happened, one of these huge
creatures waddled by the trench, making for its usual course inland.

"Hullo, mates!" sung out the leading wag of the crew, "let's give our
friend a ride for to dry hisself; here's a cock hoss handy!"

This was thought a capital lark; and, the suggestion being acted upon
immediately, the tortoise was summarily arrested in its onward career
and Mr Flinders lashed across its shelly back, like Mazeppa was
strapped upon the desert steed--the hands all roaring with laughter, Jim
said, while the mate struggled in vain with his captors and the giant
tortoise hissed its objections at the liberty taken with it in thus
converting it into a beast of burden without leave or license!

It must have been a comical sight according to Jim Chowder's account.

Even Jan Steenbock, he said, could not help grinning; for, although Mr
Flinders screamed and yelled as if he were being murdered, Jan saw that
the men were not really hurting him, and he thought there was no call
for his interference, especially after the manner in which the mate had
acted towards him previously--indeed, all along, arrant bully that he
was.

Consequently, he let matters take their course, his smile breaking into
the general laugh that arose presently when, one of the men giving the
tortoise a dig with his boot as soon as the mate was securely mounted,
the unwieldy reptile waddled off into the bush with Mr Flinders,
bawling, spread-eagled on its back and brandishing his arms and legs
about, trying to free himself from his lashings.

"Durn ye all for a pack o' cowards, ten ag'in one!" screamed out the
mate as he was lost to sight in the cactus grove, the prickles from
which no doubt tore his legs, thus heightening the unpleasantness of his
situation.  "I'll pay ye out for this, ye scallywags, I will, by
thunder, when I get loose."

"All right," shouted back the men between their bursts of laughter as he
disappeared from view, howling and shrieking and swearing away to the
end; the tortoise plodding on regardless of his struggles, which,
indeed, accelerated its pace onwards to its retreat in the hills.  "You
can carry on, old flick, when you finds yourself free!"

And, then, they raised one of their old sailor choruses with much
spirit--

  "Oh, he'll never come back no more, boys,
  He'll never come back no more;
  For he's sailed away to Botany Bay,
  And 'll never come back no more!"

While they were in the middle of this--Jim Chowder singing the solo of
the shanty, and the others joining in with full lung power in the
refrain--who should appear from the opposite direction to that in which
the mate had disappeared on his strange steed, but, Captain Snaggs!

The skipper looked very strange and excited.

"Hillo, my jokers!" he exclaimed as soon as he got near enough to hail
the men, "whaar's Mister Flinders?  I wants him at oncest."



CHAPTER EIGHTEEN.

"SKELETON VALLEY."

"This wer a reg'ler sockdollager!" said Jim Chowder, when narrating the
circumstances to us; for on this unexpected enquiry after the mate
coming so suddenly after the men had treated him in so ignominious a
fashion, they were "knocked all aback!"

So, for the moment, no one answered the skipper's question.

Of course, this did not tend to allay his excitement.  "Can't nary a one
o' ye speak?" he cried angrily.  "Whaar's the fust-mate--ye ain't made
away with the coon, hev ye?"

"He's out fur a ride, cap," at last said the wag of the party, whereat
there was another outburst of laughter.  "Mr Flinders wer a bit out o'
sorts an' hez gone up theer fur a hairin'."

"Thaar!" echoed the skipper, looking to where the man pointed with his
hand.  "Whaar?"

"Up in the hills," replied the other grinning hugely at Captain Snaggs'
puzzled expression.  "He's gone fur a ride a-tortoise-back."

"Ye're a durned fule!" shouted the skipper, thinking he was `taking a
rise' out of him.  "Don't ye try on bamboozlin' me.  What d'ye mean by
his goin' a-ridin', an' sich nonsense?"

"He vas shbeak ze drooth, cap'en," put in Jan Steenbock, who was still
wiping the blood from his face as he got up to answer him.  "I vas zee
Mistaire Vlinders zail avays oop dere on ze back of von beeg toordle
joost now."

"By thunder, ye're all makin' game of me, I guess!" yelled the skipper,
seeing that Jan was grinning like the rest, "I s'pose ye've been hevin'
a muss ag'en.  Now, I ain't a-goin' to stand no more bunkum.  What hev
ye done with Mr Flinders, I axes fur the last time?"

"I vas not do nuzzin," replied Jan quietly, continuing to wipe his face.
"Ze mate vas shtrike me, but I vas not touch him meinselfs, I vas not
lay von hand upon hims."

"Then what in thunder air becom' of him?"

"He wer gone a-ridin', cap," said the man who had previously spoken,
proceeding to explain what had occurred.  "He came down drunk out of the
ship and went abusin' Mr Steenbock as never sed a word to him, and then
struck him with a spade, nigh killing him.  So we tumbles him over in
the water theer to stop his doin' any more mischief, for he wer that mad
as he looked to murder the lot of us."

"And then, boss," went on Jim Chowder, as he told up, taking up the
story, "ez he were pretty well wet with his ducking, we lashed him on to
the back of a tortoise ez come by, an' sent him up in the hills, fur to
dry hisself, `ridin' a cock horse to Banbury Cross' like!"

At this the hands laughed again, and the skipper, whom they now surmised
must have been drinking again when away on his prospecting tour, became
perfectly furious; for he turned quite white, while his billy-goat beard
bristled up, as it always did when he was angry.

"This air rank mutiny!" he shouted, drawing his revolver and pointing it
at Jim Chowder; "but I'll soon teach ye a lesson, ye skunks.  Hyar goes
fur one o' ye!"

Jan Steenbock, as on a previous occasion, however, was too quick for
him; for he knocked the weapon out of his fist, and then gripping him in
a tight grasp, threw his arms round the captain's body.

The skipper foamed at the mouth, and swore even worse than Mr Flinders
had done just before; but, presently he calmed down a bit, and sat down
on the ground--shaking all over, as soon as Jan had removed his grip,
though keeping close to him, to be on the watch for his next move, as he
expected him to have one of his old fits again.

But the convulsions seemed to pass off very quickly; and the captain,
looking like himself again after a few moments, jumped to his feet.

He then stared round about him, as if searching for something or some
one, evidently forgetting all that had just happened.

Suddenly his eyes brightened.

"Thaar he is!" he cried, "thaar he is!"

"Who, sir?" asked Jan, seeing his gaze fixed in the direction of the
cactus grove, behind which the mate had vanished on his
tortoise--"Mistaire Vlinders?"

"No, man, no," impatiently cried the skipper; "I wanted him to come with
me, but ez he's not hyar, ye'll do ez wa-all, I reckon.  It's the black
buccaneer cap'en I mean, thet I met jest now, over thaar in the vall'y."

"Ze boocaneer cap'en," repeated Jan, utterly flabbergasted--"ze
boocaneer cap'en?"

"Aye, ye durned fule; don't ye reck'lect the coon ez ye told me ez
burrit the treesure?  Come on quick, or I guess we'll lose him!"

"And yous have zeen hims?"

"Aye, I hev seed him, sure enuff," replied Captain Snaggs, seizing Jan,
and trying to drag him with him; "an', what's more, he an' I've been
drinkin' together, me joker.  We've hed a reg'ler high old time in the
vall'y thaar, this arternoon, ye bet!"

"In ze valleys?"

"By thunder! ye're that slow ye'd anger a saint, which I ain't one,"
returned Captain Snaggs, indignantly.  "I mean the vall'y whaar the
skeletons is crawlin' about an' the skulls grinning--thet air one
belongin' to the buccaneer cuss is a prime one, I ken tell ye.  It beats
creation, it dew, with the lizards a-creepin' through the sockets, an' a
big snake in his teeth.  Jeehosophat! how he did swaller down the
licker!"

Up to now the men could not understand that anything out of the common
was the matter with the skipper beyond being drunk, perhaps, and in a
passion--no, not even Jan; but, as soon as he got talking on this tack
about snakes and skulls, then all saw what was the matter.

So, now, on his darting off towards the hills in his delirium, Jan
Steenbock and Jim Chowder, with a couple of the other hands, quickly
followed in pursuit of the demented man.

He had got a good minute's start, however, before they recovered from
their astonishment at his incoherent speech and were able to grasp the
situation; so, he was almost out of sight by the time they went after
him.

It was a long chase, Jim said, for they went in and out between the
thorny fleshy-handed cactus trees and over the lava field, tumbling into
holes here and tearing themselves to pieces with the thorns there--the
skipper all the while maintaining his lead in front and running along as
freely and smoothly as if the track were an even path, instead of being
through a desert waste like that they raced over.

After a bit, they passed over all the intervening lava field and struck
amongst the grass and trees; and then they came up to Mr Flinders, who
was still lashed on the back of his tortoise, which had `brought up all
standing' by the side of a little water-spring, and was greedily gulping
down long draughts of the limpid stream that rippled through the glade
beneath the shade of a number of dwarf oaks and zafrau trees which had
orchilla moss growing in profusion on their trunks--some of these being
nearly three feet in diameter, and bigger, Jim said, than any trees he
had previously seen on the island.

Those in pursuit of the skipper thought he would have stopped on thus
meeting the first-mate.

But, no.  He did not halt for an instant.

"Come on, Flinders," he only called out.  "Come on, Flinders, we air
arter the buccaneer cap'en an' the treasure!"

Then, plunging down the side of the hill he made for a bare space
further down beyond the trees, waving his arms over his head and
shouting and screaming at the pitch of his voice, like the raging madman
that he had become.

Arrived at the bottom of the declivity, the captain abruptly paused; and
Jim Chowder and Jan, who were close behind, came up with him.

There was no need to stop him; for the skipper flung himself on the
ground at a spot where, to their wonder, they now observed three
skeletons sitting up and arranged in a circle; while in the centre of
the terrible group of bony figures was a cask on end, whose odour at
once betrayed its contents.

Rum!

A pannikin was on the ground beside the hand of one of the remnants of
mortality, and this the skipper took up, drawing a spigot from out of
the cask and filling it.

"Hyar's to ye, my brave buccaneers!" he cried, tossing it off as if it
had been water.  "Hyar's to ye all an' the gold!"

He was going to fill another pannikin and drain that; but Jan Steenbock
kicked over the cask, preventing him.

Captain Snaggs at once sprung to his feet again.

As before, he took no notice of Jan's action.

It appeared as if his mind were suddenly bent on something else and that
he now forgot everything anterior to the one thought that possessed him.

"Come on now, my brave buccaneers, an' show us the gold," he cried.
"Lead on, my beauties, an' I'll foller, by thunder, to the devil
himself!"

So saying, back he climbed up the hill, and down a little pathway along
the top till he came to the entrance to the cave which Tom Bullover and
Hiram and I had first discovered; and then, suddenly, before Jan
Steenbock and Jim Chowder could see where he had gone, he disappeared
within the opening.

Jan and Jim alone had continued the pursuit, the other hands having
remained behind to release the first-mate from his uncomfortable billet
on board the tortoise; and Jim Chowder giving up the hunt at this point,
and returning to rejoin his comrades, Jan Steenbock only remained, the
latter telling us later on, when we all compared notes, that, after
looking for the skipper over the cliff, where he at first believed him
to have fallen, he finally traced him into the cave.



CHAPTER NINETEEN.

A WARNING SHOCK.

"Wa-all, I'm jiggered!" ejaculated Hiram, having recourse to his usual
favourite expression when startled or surprised at anything, as the
skipper, after evading Jan Steenbock's pursuit, darted out of the cave
and appeared on the scene, destroying the harmony of our happy meeting
with Sam.  "Keep yer haar on, cap, an' don't make a muss about nuthin'!"

Captain Snaggs, in response to this, made a gesture as if he were going
to strike him.

"Ye durned rep-tile!" he yelled out.  "I'll soon knock the sass out o'
ye; I will so, by thunder!"

"No, ye don't, cap; no, ye don't," said Hiram good-humouredly, putting
up his fists to guard himself, but not doing so offensively.  "I guess
two ken play at thet game, I reckon, an' ye'd best let me bide; fur, I'm
a quiet coon when ye stroke me down the right way, but a reg'lar
screamer when I'm riled, an' mighty risky to handle, sirree, ez ye ken
bet yer bottom dollar!"

"Jee-rusalem--this air rank mutiny!" exclaimed the skipper, starting
back.  "Would ye hit me, yer own cap'en?"

"No, cap; I don't mean fur to go ez fur ez thet,"--replied the other,
lowering his fists, but keeping his eye steadily on Captain Snaggs, the
two looking at each other straight up and down--"not if yer doesn't lay
hands on me; but, if yer dew, why, I reckon I'll hev to take my own
part, fur I ain't a-goin' to be knocked about by no man, cap'en or no
cap'en, ez we're now ashore an' this air a free country!"

"Snakes an' alligators, this air a rum state o' things!" cried the
skipper, sobering down a bit at this reply, as well as awed by Hiram's
steadfast manner.  "But, I don't kinder wish to be at loggerheads with
ye, my man, fur ye hev ben a good seaman right through the vy'ge, an I
ken pass over yer sass, ez I don't think ye means any disrespect."

"Nary a cent, cap," agreed Hiram to this; "nary a cent o' thet."

"But ez fur thet durned nigger thaar," continued the skipper, foaming up
with passion again on seeing Sam and Tom grinning together at his
backing down so mildly before Hiram's resolute attitude, neither of
them, nor any of us indeed, recognising that he was in a state of
delirium, "I'll hev him an' thet scoundrel of a carpenter in irons, an'
tried fur conspi-racy, I guess, when we git back to some civilised
port."

"Better wait till ye fetch thaar, boss," said Hiram drily.  "I guess we
air hard an' fast aground jest now; an' it ain't no good a-talkin' till
ye ken do ez ye sez; threat'nin's air all bunkum!"

"I'll soon show ye the rights o' thet," shouted Captain Snaggs, making a
rush past Hiram to reach Sam, who drew away behind Tom, just beyond his
grasp.  "Only let me catch holt on thet durned nigger, an' I'll skin him
alive.  I'll ghost him, I will!"

Hiram, however, protected the darkey with his outstretched arm, thus
barring the skipper's advance; while Tom Bullover also stood up in
front, further shielding Sam, who now spoke up for himself from his safe
position in the rear, whither I too retreated out of harm's way.

"Golly!  Massa Cap'en," said Sam, with a native dignity and eloquence
which I had not previously believed him to possess, "what fur am yer
wish ter injure a pore black man like me, dat nebbah done yer no harm?
But fur der impersition ob der good God abobe us all, yer'd a-murd'red
me, as yer taut yer hab dat time dat yer shoots me, an' I tumbles inter
de sea?"

"Harm, cuss ye?" retorted Captain Snaggs.  "Didn't ye try to pizen me
afore I went fur ye?  It wer arter thet I drew a bead on ye with my
six-shooter!"

"No, Mass' Snaggs," answered the negro solemnly; "I'se swan I nebbah
done dat ting!  I'se nebbah pizen yer, nor no man.  I'se only put one
lilly bit jalap in de grub, fo' joke, 'cause yer turn me out ob de
galley fo' nuffin'.  I'se only done it fo' joke, I swan!"

"A durned fine joke thet, I reckon," sneered the skipper, snorting and
fuming with rage at the recollection.  "Why, me an' Flinders hed the
mullygrabs fur a week arterwards; an' I guess I don't feel all right
yet!  I ain't half paid ye fur it, by thunder!  But, thet ain't the wust
by a durned sight; fur, by yer dodrotted tomfoolery, an' carryin' on
with thet scoundrel yer accomplice thaar--thet British hound, Bullover,
I mean--ye hev so fuddled every one aboard thet ye hev caused the loss
of the shep an' cargy on this air outlandish island.  I'll make ye
answer fur it, though--I will by the jumpin' Jeehosophet!"

"Ye air wrong thaar, cap," put in Hiram here; "ye air wrong thaar!"

"Wrong!  Who sez I'm wrong?"

"I dew," replied the other, in his sturdy fashion, in no ways abashed by
the question--"I sez ye air wrong.  It warn't Sam ez lost the ship, or
'cashion'd the wrack in airy a way, nor yet yerself, cap, neither.  It
wer summat else."

"Thunder!" exclaimed the skipper, puzzled by this.  "What dew ye make it
out fur to be?"

"Rum, an' not `thunder,' mister," at once responded Hiram, equally
laconically.  "I guess if ye hedn't took to raisin' yer elber thet
powerful ez to see snakes, an' hev the jim-jams, we'd all be now, slick
ez clams, safe in port at 'Frisco!"

This home truth silenced the captain for the moment, but the next
instant he startled us all with an utterly inconsequent question, having
no reference to what he had before been speaking of.

"Where hev ye stowed it?"

Hiram stared at him.

"I don't mean ye," said the skipper, dropping his eyes as if he could
not stand being gazed at; and I could see his face twitching about in a
queer manner, and his hands trembling, as he turned and twisted the
fingers together.  "I mean the nigger an' thet other skunk thaar--the
white man thet's got a blacker heart inside his carkiss than the nigger
hez.  Whaar hev they stowed it?"

"Stowed what, cap?" inquired Hiram, humouring him, as he now noticed,
for the first time, in what an excited state he was.  "I don't kinder
underconstubble 'zactly what yer means."

"The chest o' gold," snorted out the skipper.  "Ye know durned well what
I means!"

"Chest o' goold?" repeated Hiram, astonished.  "I hevn't seed no chests
o' goold about hyar.  No such luck!"

"Ye lie!" roared the captain, springing on him like a tiger, and
throwing him down by his sudden attack, he clutched poor Hiram's throat
so tightly as almost to strangle him.  "I saw the nigger makin' off with
it, an' thet scoundrel the carpenter; fur the buccaneers told me jest
now.  Lord, thaar's the skull rollin' after me, with its wild eyes
flashin' fire out of the sockets, an' its grinnin' teeth--oh, save me!
Save me!"

With that, he took to crying and sobbing like mad; and it was only then
we realised the fact that the skipper was suffering from another of his
fits of delirium, though it was a far worse one than any we had seen him
labouring under during the voyage.

Tom Bullover and Sam had the greatest difficulty in unclenching his
hands from Hiram's neck and then restraining him from doing further
violence, our unfortunate shipmate being quite black in the face and
speechless for some minutes after our releasing him.

As for Captain Snaggs, he afterwards went on like a raging madman; and
it was as much as Tom and Sam could do, with my help, to tie his hands
and legs so as to keep him quiet, for he struggled furiously all the
while with the strength of ten men!

In the middle of this, we heard a strange rumbling noise under our feet,
the ground beginning to oscillate violently, as if we were on board ship
in a heavy sea; while, at the same time, a lot of earth and pieces of
rock were thrown down on us from the heights above the little plateau
where the cave was situated.  The air, also, grew thick and heavy and
dark, similarly to what is generally noticed when a severe thunderstorm
is impending.

"Oh, Tom!"  I cried in alarm, "what has happened?"

"It's an earthquake, I think," he replied, looking frightened too.
"We'd better get under shelter as quickly as we can, for these stones
are tumbling down too plentifully for pleasure!"

"Where can we go?" said I--"the ship's too far off.  Oh dear, something
has just hit me on the head, and it hurts!"

"Come in here to the cave; we'll be safe inside, if the bottom can stand
all this shaking.  At all events, it'll be better than being out in the
open, to stand the chance of having one's head smashed by a boulder from
aloft!"

So saying, Tom disappeared within the mouth of the cavern, dragging
after him the prostrate form of the skipper, who appeared to have fallen
asleep, overcome by the violent paroxysms of his fit, for he was snoring
stertorously.

Sam and I quickly followed Tom, and the rear was brought up by Hiram--
now pretty well recovered from the mauling he had received at the hands
of our unconscious skipper, the shock of the earthquake having roused up
our shipmate effectually, while the continual dropping of the falling
earth and stones, which now began to rain down like hail, hastened his
retreat.

"I guess this air more comf'able," said he, as soon as he was well
within our place of shelter, now so dark and gloomy that we could barely
see each other, and Sam's colour was quite indistinguishable.  "Talk o'
rainin' cats an' dogs!  Why, the airth seems topsides down, an'
brickbats an' pavin' stones air a reg'ler caution to it!"

Hardly, however, had he got out these words than there came a tremendous
crash of thunder, a vivid sheet of forked lightning simultaneously
illuminating the whole interior of the cavern; and, to our great
surprise, we perceived by the bright electric glare the figure of
another man besides our own party--the stranger standing at the upper
end of the cave, near the block of stone in the centre, where Sam had
been seated when I had seen him playing the banjo, and Tom gave him such
a fright by pretending to be a ghost.

Sam, now, like the rest of us, saw this figure advancing in our
direction, and believed he was going to be treated to another visitation
from the apparition which had terrified him previously, and which he was
still only half convinced was but the creation of Tom's erratic fancy.

"O Lor', Cholly!" he exclaimed, in great fright, clutching hold of my
hand, as I stood near him at the entrance to the cave.  "Dere's anudder
duppy come, fo' suah!  My golly!  What am dat?"

But, before I could say anything, much to our great relief--for I felt
almost as much terrified as he--the voice of Jan Steenbock sounded from
out from the gloomy interior in answer to his question.

"It vas mees, mein frents--it vas mees!"

"Goodness gracious, Mister Steenbock!" sang out Tom Bullover, looking
towards him, as the hazy figure advanced nearer and became more
distinct, although we could not yet actually see the second-mate's face.
"How did you get here?"

"I vas hoont aftaire ze cap'en," replied Jan, coming up close to us now.
"He vas get troonk, and go mat again in ze valleys beyont ze sheep, and
I vas run aftaire hims, as he vas run avays, and den he vas go out of
zight in one big hole at ze top of ze hill.  I vas vollow aftaire hims,
but den I loose hims, and ze erdquake vas come and ze toonder and
lightning, and I vas zee yous and here I vas!"

"Oh, we've got the skipper all right," said Tom.  "He nearly killed
Hiram jest now in his frenzy; but we've tied him up with a lashing round
his arms and legs, so that he can't get away and come to no harm till
he's all serene again.  I'm a-sitting on him now to keep him down; as,
though he's sleepin', he tries to start up on us every minute.  By
Jingo! there he goes again!"

"He vas bat mans," observed Jan Steenbock, helping to hold down the
struggling skipper, whose fits of delirium still came back every now and
again.  "He vas vool of mischiefs and ze rhoom!  Joost now, he vas dink
dat he vas talk to ze boocaneer cap'en, and dat he vas show him dat
dreazure dat vas accurst, and he vas dink he vinds it, and dat I vas
shteal hims avay."

"I'm jiggered!" ejaculated Hiram, in surprise.  "Why, he comed up hyar
an' goes fur me to throttle me, sayin' ez how I hed took the durned
treesor, tew.  I guess I only wish we could sot eyes on it!"

"Bettaire not, mine vrents, bettaire not zee it no mores," said Jan,
solemnly shaking his head in the dim light.  "It vas accurst, as I vas
tell yous, by ze bloot of ze schlabe dat vas kilt by ze Sbaniards.  It
vas only bringt bat look to ze beeples dat vas touch hims.  Bettaire
not, mein frent, nevaire!"

"I ain't got no skear 'bout thet," replied Hiram, with a defiant laugh.
"Guess, we air all on us pretty wa-al season'd to them ghostesses by
this time, both aboard ship an' ashore, an' I don't care a cuss fur the
hull bilin' on them, I reckon!"

"Shtop!--listen!"--whispered Jan Steenbock, in his deep, impressive
voice, as another vivid flash of lightning lit up the cave for a brief
instant, making it all the darker afterwards.  This was followed by a
second crashing peal of thunder, as if the very heavens were coming down
and were rattling about our ears; while the ground heaved up beneath our
feet violently, with its former jerky motion.--"Ze sbirrits of eefel vas
valk abroat in ze shtorm."

Even as he spoke, his solemn tones sending a thrill through my heart,
there came a still more violent shock of earthquake, which was succeeded
by a tremendous grinding, thumping noise from the back of the cave; and
then, all of a sudden, a large black body bounded past us through the
entrance close to where we stood.  The rush of air knocked us all down
flat on our backs, as this object, whatever it was, made its way out,
and, finally, we could hear it, a second later, plunged into the sea
below at the foot of the declivity.

"Bress de Lor'!" ejaculated Sam, in greater terror than ever.  "Dere's
de duppy, fo' suah!  Hole on ter me, Cholly!  Hole on!  I'se mighty
'fraid!  Hole on ter me, for de Lor's sake, sonny!"



CHAPTER TWENTY.

THE JUDGMENT OF FATE.

We were all speechless, and could see nothing as we scrambled to our
feet in the darkness, for the cave was now filled with a thick dust,
that nearly suffocated us as well as blinded us--filling our eyes, and
mouths, and nostrils.

Presently, the dust settled down; and, then, we found that the cavern
was no longer dark, for the crash which had so startled us at first was
occasioned by a portion of the roof breaking away, which let in the
daylight from above, right immediately over the big rock in the centre
that Tom had called "the pulpit."

The rock, however, had disappeared, and this was, doubtless, the
mysterious body that had rushed by us through the mouth of the cave, so
frightening Sam.

But something more surprising still had happened.

The earthquake, in rending the rock, had upheaved all the earth around
it, and there, beneath, in a large cavity, was a collection of old oaken
chests, bound round, apparently, with heavy clamps of iron, similar to
those used by our forefathers a couple of centuries ago for the storage
of their goods and chattels--boxes that could defy alike the ravages of
age and the ordinary wear and tear of time, the carpenters and builders
of bygone days making things to last, and not merely to sell, as in
modern years!

"Hooray!" cried Hiram, springing towards one of the chests, which had
been crushed open by a piece of detached rock from the roof of the cave,
thus disclosing to view a lot of glittering ingots of gold, with a
crucifix and some little images of the same precious metal, like the
Madonna figure we had first discovered.  "Hyar's the boocaneer treesor,
I guess, at last!"

"I vas mooch sorry," said Jan Steenbock, shaking his head solemnly, as
we gathered round the hole and eagerly inspected its contents, noticing
that there were seven or eight of the large chests within the cavity,
besides the broken one and a number of smaller ones, along with pieces
of armour and a collection of old guns and pistols, all heaped up
together.  "I vas mooch sorry.  It vas bringt us bat look, like it did
to ze schgooners, and Cap'en Shackzon, and all ze crew of zo sheep I vas
zail in befores!"

"Why, old hoss," asked Hiram, all excitement, "I guess we air all
friends hyar, an' 'll go share an' share alike; so thaar's no fear on a
muss happenin' atween us, like thaar wer with ye an' them durned
cut-throat Spaniards.  Why shu'd it bring us bad luck, hey?"

"I vas avraid of ze curse," replied the other.  "It vas hoonted mit
bloot, and vas bringt harm to every ones!  I vill not touch it
meinselfs--no, nevaire!"

"Guess I will, though," retorted Hiram.  "I ain't afeard o' no nigger ez
was buried two hundred year ago; no, nor on his ghostess neither.  What
say ye, Sam, consarnin' this brother darkey o' yourn?"

"Golly, Massa Hiram!" said Sam, grinning from ear to ear at the sight of
the gold.  "I'se tink I'se hab claim to de lot, if it am belong to de
nigger family.  Ho-ho-ho!"

With that we all laughed; whereupon the skipper, whom we had forgotten
for the moment, made a movement where he still lay on the floor of the
cave by the entrance, opening his eyes and trying to get up, which, of
course, he was unable to do, from our having tied his legs together.

"Hillo!" he called out.  "Whaar am I?"

His voice now seemed quite rational, and on Tom going up to him, he
found that the delirium had left him, and that he was quite sober and in
his senses again, so he unloosed him, helping him on to his feet.

Strange to say, Captain Snaggs did not utter a word about finding
himself tied, nor did he seem in any way surprised at being there
amongst us.  He was not angry either a bit now!

He simply walked up to where we stood and, looking down at the hole with
the chests piled up in it, as if following out a concentrated train of
thought which had been simmering in his brain before his fit,
exclaimed--

"Thaar it air, jest ez I told ye, an' ez the buccaneer cap'n told me.
Thaar it air all right, I reckon; an' now we must see about gettin' it
down to the shep."

This staggered us somewhat; but Tom Bullover thought it best to humour
him.

"How would you like it took down to the shore, cap'en?" he asked,
deferentially.  "Shall I go and fetch some of the hands, sir?"

"Yes, I guess thet'll be the best plan," replied Captain Snaggs, as easy
as you please, and as if only talking about some ordinary thing, and he
were giving his usual orders.  "Wait a minnit, though.  I guess I'll
come with ye ez soon as I've toted up the hull lot, fur thaar ain't no
fear of any coon walkin' off with the plunder while we're away, an' I
want to see how the shep's gettin' on.  I reckon she ought to be pretty
near afloat by now."

There seemed a method in his madness, even if he were yet mad, for he
carefully jotted down the number of chests in his pocket-book; and then,
turning away as composedly as possible, he made his way down to the
beach by our old path, just as if he had been in the habit of going that
way every day of his life and it was quite familiar to him.

"Come on, men!" cried he.  "Follow me!"

So, down we all tramped after him in single file to the shore, where we
found a stranger thing had happened since our long absence, which, long
as it seemed from the series of occurrences that had happened, the one
succeeding the other in rapid succession, was not long in reality.

However, it appeared months since we had left the ship; for, in the
short space of time, comparatively speaking, that we had been away, all
around her had been altered, and she more than anything.

Instead of her being high and dry ashore, with her bows up in the air
between the two hillocks where they had been wedged, there she was now
afloat, placidly riding on the smooth waters of the harbour by her
anchors, which had been laid out, it may be remembered, the morning
after she stranded.

This was a far more providential circumstance than our finding the
treasure; for even Mr Steenbock, sanguine as he had been at first when
he suggested digging the dock under her, had begun to have fears of our
eventually getting her off again into her native element--the operation
taking longer than he had expected, for the water at the last had
penetrated through the coffer-dam, thus preventing the men from digging
out the after part of the trench under the keel piece, between the main
and mizzen-chains.

Now, through the effects of the earthquake, we were fortunately saved
all farther trouble on this score.

The skipper did not appear the least surprised at what had happened,
displaying the same nonchalance as he did when gazing down into the
cavity where the buccaneers' gold was stowed--as if he had dreamt it all
beforehand and everything was turning out exactly according to the
sequence of his dream!

As we got nearer, we saw that a number of the men were grouped about the
shore, collecting a lot of stray gear, which they were taking off to the
ship in the jolly-boat; so, calling to these, Captain Snaggs asked where
Mr Flinders was.

"He's gone aboard bad," said one of the hands, with a snigger, whereat
they all laughed.  "He don't feel all right this arternoon, sir, an' he
went into his cabin afore the ship floated."

"I guess, then, we'd better go aboard, too," replied the skipper, quite
quiet like.  "It's gettin' late now, an' we'll break off work till
to-morrow.  We'll then set about gettin' the sticks up on her agen, my
men, as well as hoist the stores aboard; fur, I means to sail out of
this hyar harbour afore the end of the week!"

The hands gave a hearty hurrah at this, as if the idea pleased them, for
they must have been quite sick of the place by this time; and the
skipper therefore ordered Jan Steenbock and Tom, with Hiram, Sam, and I,
to come off with him in the boat, telling us when we presently got
aboard not to mention about the treasure to any one yet, as it might
prevent the men working and rigging the ship, getting her ready for sea.

This we promised to do, keeping our word easily enough, as we did not
find it difficult to hold our tongues in the matter, considering the lot
there was for all hands to talk about concerning Sam's restoration to
life, after being supposed dead so long.  Several of the hands, though,
persisted that they knew of the deception all along, and had not been
taken in by the ghost business; but this was all brag on their part, for
I am sure they thoroughly believed in it at the time, just the same as
Morris Jones and Hiram and I did--only Tom being in the secret from
first to last!

In the course of the next four days, all the hands working with a will,
even more energetically than they had done when dismantling her, the
_Denver City_ had her rigging up all ataunto again, while her graceful
yards were crossed, and most of her cargo got aboard, all ready to sail.

During this time, the skipper had said not a word about the treasure,
nor did he speak of sending up any one to fetch it; and so, as none of
us had been back to the cave since quitting it with the captain, after
the earthquake and our discovery of the hoard, Hiram and Tom, with Sam
and I, stole away late on the afternoon of the fourth day to see whether
the boxes were all right--Jan Steenbock being the only one of the
original party present when it was found who did not accompany us; but
he said he knew it would be unlucky, for him, at all events, and so he
preferred stopping away.

So it was that only we four went, though Jan came with us part of the
way from the ship, sitting down by the spring which had been the haunt
of the doves, to await our return.

Jan did not have to remain there long alone.

No sooner had we got to the cave than we found that the treacherous
skipper had anticipated and out-reached us; for, from the hurried look
we took, we could see that every single chest and box had been removed,
and that all were now probably stored in the captain's own cabin.  No
doubt, too, by-and-by, he would swear that we had no hand in finding
them, whence, of course, it must follow from his reasoning, we were not
entitled to any share in the proceeds from the treasure!

This was a pretty state of things, each and all of us thought; and,
boiling with indignation, we rushed back to Jan to tell him the news.

But, we met with but sorry sympathy from him.

"You vas mooch bettaire off," he said stolidly--"mooch bettaire off
mitout ze accursed stoof!  It vas bringt harm to Cap'en Shackzon, and ze
crew of ze schgooners dat I vas in; and, markt mine vorts, it vas bringt
harms to Cap'en Schnaggs, as zertain as I vas here and dere!"

"I'm durned, though, if I don't make him suffer fur it, if he don't
shell out!" cried Hiram hotly, as we all resumed the path back to the
shore, much more quickly than we had gone up to the cave.  "I'll give
him goss!"

"He vill meet his vate vrom elsevere," said Jan Steenbock solemnly,
hurrying after us, for Hiram and Tom seemed all eagerness to tackle the
skipper at once, and I trotted close after them.  "Ze sbirrit ob ze
dreazure vill hoont him, and poonish him in ze end!"

And, incredible as my story may seem, quite unwittingly, Jan became a
true prophet, as what occurred subsequently will show.

When we got to the shore, we found that the ship had her boats hoisted
in, and her anchor weighed; while the topsails were cast loose, showing
that she was ready to sail at a moment's notice.

What concerned us most, though, was that we could see no means for
getting on board; for the dinghy by which we had landed was towing
astern by its painter, and thus all communication was cut off with the
shore.

"_Denver City_, ahoy!" shouted out Hiram, putting his hands to his mouth
as an improvised speaking trumpet.  "Send a boat to take us off!"

Captain Snaggs at once jumped up on the taffrail on our hailing her.

"Not one o' ye durned cusses comes aboard my shep agen, if I knows it!"
he yelled back loudly.  "Ye went ashore o' yer own accord, an' thaar ye
shell stop, by thunder!"

"Ye durned thief!" cried Hiram, mad with rage at the villain for thus
cheating us, and abandoning us to our fate there on that lone desert
isle.  "Whaar's our treesor?"

"Guess ye're ravin', man," bawled Captain Snaggs; and then, as if this
ended the colloquy, he sang out to the hands forward to "Hoist away!"

We then noticed a slight commotion on board, as if some of our shipmates
rebelled at the idea of leaving us behind, while they sailed homeward;
but this intervention on our behalf was futile, for the skipper
brandished his revolver, as we could easily see from the top of the
cliff, to which we had now climbed, in order to make our voices better
heard on board, and after a momentary pause the sails were let drop and
hauled out, and the vessel began to make her way out of the bay.

The captain then called out to us, as if in bragging malice, "I've got
every durned chest aboard!  D'ye haar?  Flinders an' I brought 'em down
to the beach last night when ye wer all caulkin'; an' I guess ye air
pretty well chiselled at last!--Thet's quits fur the nigger's ghost, an'
yer mutiny, an' all!  I reckon I've paid ye all out in full, ye durned
skellywags!"

Those were the last words, in all human probability, that Captain Snaggs
ever uttered in this mortal life.

There had been slight rumblings underground all the morning of that day,
as if nature were warning us of further volcanic disturbance throughout
the Galapagian archipelago; and now, of a sudden, an immense tidal wave,
that seemed sixty feet high at the least, rolled into the little harbour
like a huge wall, filling up the opening between the cliffs on either
hand up to the very tops of these, as it came sweeping inward from the
outside sea.

The next instant, the _Denver City_, with all on board her, disappeared,
the wave sweeping back outwards with its prey, leaving the bottom of the
harbour bare for over a mile, where all previously had been deep water.

The sea came back once more, though the tidal wave was not so high as
before.

And still once again--ebb and flow, ebb and flow.

It was awful!



CHAPTER TWENTY ONE.

RESCUED.

We five--Jan Steenbock, Tom Bullover, Hiram, Sam Jedfoot, and lastly,
though by no means least, myself--sole, solitary survivors of the awful
catastrophe that had swallowed up our comrades, stood on the cliff above
the yawning chasm, watching the tidal wave that still ebbed and flowed
in diminishing volume at each reflux.

This it continued to do for a full half-hour afterwards, when the sea
returned to its normal state, welling up tranquilly on the beach, and
quickly washing away all traces of the recent convulsion of nature, as
if nothing had happened--a sort of sobbing moan, only, seemed afterwards
to come from the water every now and then at spasmodic intervals, as if
the spirits of the deep were lamenting over the mischief and destruction
they had wrought!

Scarcely could we believe our eyes; for, while not a single plank or
piece of timber was cast ashore of the ship, which must have been taken
down bodily by the remorseless wave that had hurried our cruel captain
and no less cruel mate, and the rest of the crew, nineteen souls in all,
into eternity, without the slightest forewarning of their doom, the
little bay now looked as quiet and peaceful as of yore, with its
outstretching capes on either hand, and everything still the same--
equally wild, desolate, deserted, as when we first beheld it!

Most wonderful of all, though, was the fact that we alone were saved.

We were saved!

That thought appeared to flash through all our minds at once
simultaneously; and, falling on our knees, there, on the summit of the
headland, whence we had witnessed the terrible tragedy and now gazed
down on the once more placid, treacherous sea, we each and all thanked
God for our deliverance from the peril of the waters, as He had already
delivered us from the cruelty of man--in the person of that treacherous,
drunken demon who had abandoned us there to the solitude and the misery
of exile and sailed off to enjoy, as he thought, the ill-gotten treasure
of which he had robbed us.  But he had met even a worse fate than he had
meted out to us; for, what could have been worse for him than to die and
be called to account for his misdeeds at the very moment of the
realisation of his devilish design?

However, peace to his evil spirit, One greater than us poor marooned
sailors would be his Judge!

That feeling was uppermost in my mind, and I'm sure it was reciprocated
by the others, after we had returned thanks to the watchful Providence
that had saved us while snatching Captain Snaggs away in the middle of
his sins; but his name was not mentioned by any there at that moment,
nor did either of us utter a word afterwards, to each other at least, so
far as I can remember, about his treatment of us--not even Sam, to whom
throughout he had behaved the most cruelly of all.

Sailor-folk, as a rule, are not revengeful, and death we held, had
blotted out the past; so we, too, buried the skipper's misdeeds in
oblivion!

We stopped there on the cliff without speaking until it was close on
sunset.

Our hearts were too full to express the various thoughts that coursed
through our minds; and there we remained, silent and still, as if we
five were dumb.

All we did was to stare out solemnly on the vast ocean that spread out
from beneath our feet to the golden west in the far distance, where sky
and sea met on the hazy horizon--with never a sail to break its wide
expanse, with never a sound to break our solitude, save the sullen
murmuring wash of the surf as it rippled up on the beach, and the heavy,
deep-drawn sigh of the water as it rolled back to its parent ocean,
taking its weary load of pebbles and sand below, as if sick of the
monotonous task, which it was doomed to continue on without cessation,
with ever and for ever the same motion, now that its wild, brief orgy
was o'er, and its regular routine of duty had to be again resumed!

Tom Bullover was the first to break the silence.

"Come boys," he said, when the sun's lower limb was just dipping into
the sea, leaving a solitary pathway of light across the main, while all
the rest of the sea became gradually darker, as well as the heavens
overhead, telling us that the evening was beginning to close in.  "Come,
Mr Steenbock and you fellows, we'd best go back to the cave for the
night, so as to be out of the damp air.  Besides, it won't be so
lonesome like as it is here!"

"Ay, bo," acquiesced Hiram.  "Thaar's Sam's old sail thaar, which 'll
sarve us fur a bed anyhow."

"Dat so," chimed in the darkey.  "I'se belly comf'able dere till Mass'
Tom friten me wid duppy.  I'se got some grub dere, too; an' we can light
fire an' boil coffee in pannikin, which I'se bring ashore wid me from
ship."

"Bully for ye!" cried Hiram, waking up again to the practical realities
of life at the thought of eating, and realising that he was hungry, not
having, like, indeed, all of us, tasted anything since the morning, the
events of the day having made us forget our ordinary meal-time, "I guess
I could pick a bit if I'd any thin' to fix atween my teeth!"

"Golly! don't yer fret, massa," said Sam cheerfully, in response to this
hint, leading the way towards his whilom retreat.  "I'se hab a good hunk
ob salt pork stow away dere, an' hard tack, too!"

"Why, what made you think of getting provisions up there?" observed I,
laughing, being rather surprised at his precaution, when everyone else
had been taken up with the treasure, and believed that we were on the
point of leaving the island for good and all.  "Were you going to give a
party, Sam?"

"I'se make de preparations fo' 'mergencies, Cholly," he replied gravely.
"Nobuddy know what happen, an' dere's nuffin' like bein' suah ob de
grub!"

"Thet's true enuff, an' good sound doctrine.  Don't ye kinder think so,
mister?"

Jan Steenbock, to whom this question was addressed, made no reply; but,
as he got up and followed Sam, Hiram took this for his answer, and went
after him, the five of us entering the cave in single file.

Here, we found that, from its position on the higher ground, the tidal
wave had not effected any damage, the only alteration being that made by
the first shock of earthquake, causing the crack across the upper end,
which had dislodged the stone in the centre, and disclosed the
buccaneers' treasure.  So, then, on Sam's producing a good big piece of
salt junk, with some ship's biscuit, which he had wrapped up in a yellow
bandana handkerchief and stowed away in one corner under his sailcloth,
we all imitated the American, and `put our teeth through' the unexpected
food, finding ourselves, now that we had something to eat before us,
with better appetites than might have been thought possible after what
we had gone through.

Sailors, though, do not trouble themselves much over things that have
happened, looking out more for those to come!

The next day, it seemed very strange to wake up and find ourselves alone
there, especially after the stirring time we had recently, with the
discovery of the treasure, and getting the ship afloat, and all; so,
when we crawled out of the cave and went down to the beach, we five
forlorn fellows felt more melancholy than can be readily imagined at
seeing this bare and desolate, and hearing no sound but that of our own
sad voices.

Even the coo of the doves was now unnoticeable, the birds having
deserted their haunt in the grove after the earthquake shock, as I
believe I have mentioned before.  Lucky it was for them that their
instinct warned them to do this in time; for the tidal wave had swept
completely over the place, and the little dell was now all covered with
black and white sand, like the rest of the shore--the sloping strand
running up to the very base of the cliff, and trees and all traces of
vegetation having been washed away by the sudden inrush of the water.

Jan Steenbock, whose place it was naturally to be our leader, but who
had been so superstitiously impressed by the belief that our calamity
was entirely owing to our having anything to do with the buccaneers'
buried treasure, which he supposed, in accordance with the old Spanish
legend, to be accursed, now once more reinstated himself in our good
opinion, showing himself to be the sensible man that he always was,
despite the fact of his having hitherto, from the cause stated, been
more despondent than any of us.

"My mans," said he bravely, turning his back on the beach and away from
the treacherous, smiling sea, "we moost not give vays to bat toughts and
tings!  Let us go inlants and do zometing dat vill make us dink of
zometing else!  We vill go oop to dat blace vere ze groond vas blanted
mit tings bedween ze hills, and zee if we can zee any bodatoes or
bananes vot to eat; vor, as mein frent Sambo here zays, it vas goot to
look after ze grub, vor we hab no sheeps now to zupply us mit
provisions!"

This was sound advice, which we immediately acted on, our little quintet
abandoning the shore, and following our leader again up the cliff to the
old deserted plantation.  This, it may be remembered, Tom and Hiram and
I had first lighted on in our quest for the treasure before we
discovered the cave, but we now found out that Jan Steenbock had been
previously acquainted with it from being formerly on the island.

Here we made a camp, bringing Sam's sailcloth from the cave, with a tin
pot and other mess gear he had stowed away for his own use when in
hiding there, and no one knew save Tom Bullover that he was anything but
a ghost; and here, thenceforward, by the help of the tortoises, whose
flesh we fared on, with an occasional wild hog, when we were lucky
enough to catch one, our meat diet being varied with the various
tropical vegetables which we found in the valley in profusion, we lived
until the rainy season came on, when we went back again to the cave for
shelter.

It must not be thought, though, that our time was entirely spent in
eating, or in devices how we should procure food, notwithstanding that
this was the principal care of our solitary desert island life, like as
in the case of most shipwrecked mariners.

No, we had a greater purpose than this.

It was the hope of escaping from our dismal exile, through the help of
some coasting vessel bound up or down the Pacific, or to ports within
the Gulf of Panama; and, in order to observe such passing craft we
erected a signal station on the top of Mount Chalmers, and took it in
turns to keep watch there throughout the day, with a bonfire hard by,
ready to be kindled the moment a sail was sighted.

Alas, our watch for weeks was in vain!

Sometimes we would see a ship in the distance, but she was generally too
far off to notice us; and our hearts would sink again to utter
despondency when this occurred, more than when we never noticed any sail
at all, on our seeing her gradually melting away, until she would be
finally lost in the mists of the sea and air.

At last, however, one morning, about six months or so after the loss of
the _Denver City_--I'm sure I cannot tell the precise date, for we began
then to forget even the passage of time--Tom Bullover, who was on the
look-out, came rushing down the sloping side of the cliff like a madman,
covering yards with each leap and bound he took in his rapid descent,
looking as if he were flying.

"A sail! a sail!" he shouted, as soon as he got near.  "There's a ship
in sight, and she's just entering the bay!"

"Vere?--vere?" cried Jan Steenbock, equally excited, running to meet
him.  "A sheep?  You vas mat, mein pore vellow,--you vas mat!"

"Jee-rusalem--no, he ain't!" exclaimed Hiram, who, standing on the
summit of the little mound by the entrance to the cave, could see
further out to sea than Jan from below.  "Tom's all right.  Hooray!
It's a shep sure enuff, an' she's now tarnin' the p'int on the starboard
side over thaar!"

With that we all looked now in this direction; and, oh, the blessed
sight!  There, as Hiram said, was a vessel under full sail rounding the
opposite cliff and coming into the bay!

"My golly!  I shell bust--I'se so glad!" cried poor Sam, dancing, and
shouting, and laughing, and crying, all in one breath.  "Bress de Lor'!
Bress de Lor'!"

What I and the rest did to express our joy under the circumstances it
would be impossible to tell; but I'm pretty sure we were quite as
extravagant in our actions and demeanour as the negro,--if not so hearty
in our recognition of the all-wise Providence that had sent this ship to
our rescue!

There is little more to add.

The vessel soon cast anchor in the bay; and on her lowering a boat and
reaching the beach where, as may be supposed, we eagerly awaited its
coming, we found out that she was a whaler, full of oil, and homeward
bound to San Francisco, her captain putting in at Abingdon Island for
fresh water and vegetables, as some of his crew were suffering from
scurvy, and they had run short of all tinned meat on board, having only
salt provisions left.

We were thus enabled to mutually accommodate each other, Hiram, and Sam,
and Tom Bullover, soon fetching a big store of green stuff from our
plantation in the valley, besides securing a batch of tortoises for the
men in the boat to kill and take on board; while Jan Steenbock and I
went with the whaler's captain to point out our water-spring near the
cave, where the doves' grove used to be, the stream from the hills still
finding its way down there to the sea below, although the little lake,
or pool, had become dried up by the accumulation of sand and the trees
all disappeared.

In return for these welcome supplies, the captain of the whaler gladly
agreed to give us all a free passage to `'Frisco'; although as I need
hardly tell, he would have willingly done this without any such
consideration at all, after hearing our story and being made acquainted
with the strange and awful catastrophe that had befallen our ill-fated
ship.

But we were not altogether destitute.

Our good fortune, if long in coming, smiled on us at the last; for, the
very morning of our departure from the island, a week after the whaler's
arrival, the captain remaining a few days longer than he first intended
in order to allow his sick hands to recover, Hiram, while routing out a
few traps left in the cave to take on board with us, found, much to Jan
Steenbock's regret,--the second-mate saying it would bring us ill-luck
again--one of the little chests containing the buccaneers' treasure,
which Captain Snaggs had left unwittingly behind him when he and Mr
Flinders cleared off with the rest, which they thought the entire lot.

The box contained a number of gold ingots and silver dollars, which the
whaler captain said were worth `a heap of money,' as he expressed it,
though he would not take a penny of it for himself.

The whaler skipper was an honest man, for he told Hiram Bangs and Tom,
who tried to press a certain portion of the treasure on him as his due,
that it all rightfully belonged to us, and that he should consider
himself a pitiful scoundrel if he took advantage of our misfortunes!

There--could anything be nobler than that?

"Guess not," said Hiram; and, so we all agreed!

We had a capital voyage to San Francisco from the island, which we were
glad enough to lose sight of, with its lava cliffs and cactus plants,
and other strange belongings in the animal and vegetable world, and,
above all, its sad memories and associations in other ways to us; and no
more happy sailors ever landed from board ship than we five did who set
foot ashore in the `Golden State,' as California is called, some three
odd summers ago.

The whaler captain sold our treasure for us; and the share of each of us
came to a good round sum--I, though only a boy, being given by the
others a fourth share, just as if I had been a man, for Jan Steenbock
refused to touch any.

My portion, when realised, amounted to over 400 pounds, a sum which, if
not quite enough to set one up in life and enable one to stop working,
was still `not to be sneezed at,' as Tom Bullover remarked to me
confidentially, when we made our way eastwards from San Francisco
towards New York, by the Union Pacific line, a month or so afterwards.

Hiram remained behind in California, saying he had gone through enough
sailoring, and intended trying something in the farming or mining line.
But Tom, and Jan Steenbock, and I, with our old friend Sam, stuck
together to the end, taking a ship at New York for Liverpool, where we
touched English ground again, just a year almost to a day from the time
we started on our ill-starred voyage in the poor _Denver City_.

All of us still see each other now and again, even Hiram meeting us
sometimes, when he ships in a liner and comes `across the herring pond,'
having soon got tired of a life ashore.

Our general rendezvous is a little shop kept by Sam Jedfoot, who has
married a wife, and supplies goods in the ship-chandling line to vessels
outward bound; for the darkey has a large acquaintance amongst stewards
and such gentry who have the purchasing of the same, and being a general
favourite with all this class of men--save and excepting Welshmen, whom
he detests most heartily, somehow or other!

I am now a grown-up sailor, too, like Tom Bullover, and he and I always
sail together in the same ship.

We are called the `two inseparables' by the brokers, for one of us will
never sign articles for a new vessel unless the other goes; and, when we
come off a voyage and land at Liverpool old town, as frequently is the
case, no sooner do we step ashore, at the Prince's Landing Stage or in
the docks, as may happen, than we `make tracks,' to use Hiram Bang's
Yankee lingo, for Sam Jedfoot's all-sorts shop, hard by in Water Street.

Here, `you may bet your bottom dollar,' adopting Hiram's favourite
phrase again, we are always warmly welcomed by our old friend, the
whilom darkey cook of the lost _Denver City_, whose wife also greets us
cordially whenever we drop in to visit her `good man,' as she calls him.

They are a happy couple, and much attached, though opposed in colour;
and, here, of an evening, after the hearty spread which Sam invariably
insists on preparing for our enjoyment, to show us that he has not lost
practice in his culinary profession, I believe, as well as from his
innate sense of hospitality, the ex-cook will--as regularly as he was
accustomed to do on board ship in his caboose, towards the end of the
second dog-watch, when, you may recollect, the hands were allowed to
skylark and divert themselves--take up his banjo, which is the identical
same one that he brought home with him from Abingdon Island.

The tune he always plays, the song he always sings, is that
well-remembered one which none of us, his shipmates, can ever forget,
bringing back as it does, with its plaintive refrain, every incident of
our memorable passage across the Atlantic and round Cape Horn--aye, and
all the way up the Pacific to the Galapagos Isles.

It is full of our past life, so pregnant with its strange perils and
weird surroundings, and which ended in such a terrible catastrophe:--

  "Oh, down in Alabama, 'fore I wer sot free,
  I lubbed a p'ooty yaller gal, an' fought dat she lubbed me,
  But she am proob unconstant, an' leff me hyar to tell
  How my pore hart am breakin' far dat croo-el Nancy Bell!"

Sam's wife, too, although she isn't a `yaller girl,' but, on the
contrary, as white as he is black, and Tom Bullover and I, with Hiram
and Jan Steenbock--should either or both happen likewise to be ashore in
Liverpool, and with us, of course, at the time--all, as regularly and
unfailingly on such occasions join in the same old chorus.

Don't you recollect it?

  "Den, cheer up, Sam! don't let your sperrits go down;
  Dere's many a gal dat I knows wal am waitin' fur you in de town!"

The ditty always winds up invariably, as in the old days at sea, with
the self-same sharp twang of the chords of the banjo at the end of the
last bar, that Sam used to give when sitting in the galley of the poor
_Denver City_.

"Ponk-a-tink-a-tong-tang.  P-lang!"

I can hear it now.

Bless you, I can never forget that tune--no, never--brimful as it is
with the memory of our ill-fated ship.

THE END.






End of Project Gutenberg's The Island Treasure, by John Conroy Hutcheson