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Pirate Island: A Story of the South Pacific

<h3>Chapter Thirteen.</h3> <h4>Ralli explains himself; so does Lance.</h4> On entering the assembly-room, our friends found that it was not only, as they had seen from the outside, well lighted, but that a very successful attempt had been made to decorate it by the draping of flags all round the walls, and the arrangement of an elaborate and well-designed flag-trophy on the wall at the back of the elevated platform, or stage, as it may be called. The long table, with its accompaniment of chairs, had been pushed back against the wall, and the pianoforte stood in the centre of the platform. The room was quite full, and the men appeared, for the most part, disposed to behave quietly and decorously. There were only some half a dozen young fellows who seemed at all inclined to be noisy or boisterous, and they occupied seats in the centre of the room. Johnson occupied a chair on one side of the platform, and Ralli balanced him on the opposite side. Johnson appeared rather surprised to see four of the Galatea party put in an appearance instead of one only; but he made no remark, merely waving them to accommodate themselves with chairs from those placed against the wall. “I am rather better than my word, you see,” observed Lance to him as the four friends stepped upon the platform. “I promised to do what I could in the way of furnishing your people with a little entertainment to-night, and I have brought three volunteers with me, which will enable us to infuse into the proceedings a little more variety than I could hope to impart to them alone.” “So much the better, colonel,” returned Johnson. “It’s real kind of you, I call it; and if the lads don’t appreciate it, they ought to; that’s all I can say. I’ve told ’em what you’re going to do for ’em and all that; so, as soon as you’re ready, I guess you can fire away.” Lance turned and opened the piano, looking quietly over the audience as he did so. His eye fell upon the half-dozen who seemed disposed to interrupt the proceedings, and stepping forward to the edge of the platform, he waved his hand for silence and said— “Your captain informs me that he has already explained to you the reason for his invitation to you to be present here this evening. To-day has been a somewhat notable day in the annals of the settlement. You have this morning laid the keel of a new ship, and commenced an undertaking which will tax your utmost skill, energy, and resource to carry through to a successful issue; and Captain Johnson has thought it an event of sufficient importance to be specially marked. Hence he has made it a holiday for all hands; and, finding that I possessed some little skill as a musician, he invited me to help in the celebration of the day by closing it with a musical performance. This I willingly consented to do, in the belief that it might afford you a little pleasure and recreation; and I may as well take advantage of the present opportunity to tell you all that my friends and myself will always be found ready to do everything in our power to promote your comfort and welfare. But I must remind you that we are here to-night for your pleasure rather than our own. We will do our best to amuse you, and I hope that you in your turn will individually do what you can to maintain quiet and order. We may not perhaps succeed in pleasing you all; if such should be the case, let those who are dissatisfied rise and quietly leave, and not disturb others, or interfere with their enjoyment by giving noisy expression to their dissatisfaction, I notice one or two who seem inclined to be a little unruly, but I hope they have sense enough to see that such conduct on their part would be in the worst possible taste, and that they will think better of it.” Loud exclamations of approval greeted this speech, mingled with shouts of “If they don’t behave themselves we’ll turn ’em out, guv’nor,” and such like. There was a good deal of noise and confusion for about five minutes, during which Lance calmly seated himself and waited patiently for silence; and, when this was at length restored, he went to the piano and sang to his own accompaniment Dibdin’s “Tom Bowline.” Lance possessed a full deep rich bass voice of exceptionally fine quality; and as the words of the song pealed through the room, a breathless silence was maintained by his strange audience,—the silence of surprise and delight. Many of the men knew the song; had sung it or heard it sung hundreds of times on a ship’s forecastle during the dog-watch; but not one of them had probably ever heard it sung before by a man of refined feeling, capable of expressing the full sentiment of the words, and it now came upon them almost like a revelation. Sailors as a class are proverbially fond of music, but very few of them ever have—or, perhaps it would be more true to say, give themselves—the opportunity to hear anything of better quality than the trash sung in music-halls; and most, if not all, of Lance’s audience now therefore experienced for the first time the refining power of really good music. Their enthusiastic applause at the conclusion of the song was perfectly deafening. Captain Staunton then stepped forward and sang in true seamanlike style “The Bay of Biscay,” the chorus of which was given with great unction and enjoyment by the whole audience. Rex Fortescue followed with “The Death of Nelson;” and then Bob gave in excellent style a laughable recitation, which convulsed his audience, even to the tickling of the sullen Ralli into a grim smile. Then Lance sang again; and so the entertainment proceeded for a couple of hours, to the unbounded gratification of all hands, when the pirates dispersed in a perfectly quiet and orderly manner, after giving, at Johnson’s call, three cheers for their entertainers. “Thank you, colonel! thank you heartily all of you!” said that individual as our friends parted from him outside the capstan-house. “You’ve given us a real treat to-night, and I guess all hands ’ll feel ever so much more friendly to you for it. Give ’em another dose or two of the same sort of thing now and again, and I reckon they’ll take care you don’t get ill-treated while I’m away.” “What about the arms and ammunition which I asked for to-day?” said Lance. “You leave that to me, general,” replied Johnson. “I guess I’ll find a way to let you have ’em before I sail; I won’t forget it; you trust me. Good-night.” “Good-night,” was the reply; and our friends turned away in the direction of the hut. “Would you mind walking a little way up the valley, gentlemen, before we go inside?” said Bob. “I want to tell you something I ought perhaps to have told you long ago; but we have been so busy, I could never find an opportunity without speaking before the ladies, who, I think, ought not to know anything about it.” “Certainly, Robert,” said Captain Staunton; “let us hear what it is by all means. It is doubtless something of importance, or you would not speak so earnestly.” “Well, sir,” said Bob, “I wanted chiefly to warn you all not to trust Johnson too much. He seems friendly enough, but I doubt very much whether he is sincere. The day that we arrived in port, when the hands went aloft to stow the canvas, I jumped aloft with them, just to keep my hand in, as it were, and stowed the driver. While I was passing the gaskets, that fellow Ralli came on board and entered into conversation with Johnson, who spoke to him about us, and more particularly about you, Mr Evelin. He said that you were going to design a very fast vessel for him, and that we were to assist in the building of her, and in the fortification of the harbour; and that as long as we could be of use we were to be treated civilly; but that when we had done everything required of us, he wouldn’t care how we were treated, or what became of us.” “The false, treacherous scoundrel!” exclaimed Captain Staunton indignantly. “Was that all he said, Robert?” “All that I heard,” said Bob. “After that they both went into the cabin. I wasn’t eaves-dropping, you know, sir; but I was just overhead, so that I couldn’t help hearing every word they said; and as they were talking about us, I thought I was justified in keeping my ears open.” “Quite right, Robert, so you were,” answered the skipper. “We are surrounded by and at the mercy of a band of men who have outraged every law, both divine and human; it therefore behoves us, for our own sakes, and even more for the sake of the helpless women dependent upon us, to take every possible precaution, and to ascertain by every possible means, what are their actual intentions regarding us. They are detaining us here against our will; they have imposed upon us tasks which they have not a shadow of right to lay upon us; and if they meditate treachery—which, from what you say, seems only too probable—we are justified in resorting to craft, if necessary, to protect ourselves. Is not that your opinion, gentlemen?” turning to Lance and Rex. “Unquestionably,” answered Lance promptly; “the men are, one and all—excepting, of course, the few who have refused to join the ‘brotherhood,’ as they call it—outlaws; and, as such, they have no claim whatever to be treated in the straightforward fashion with which one deals with a lawful enemy, such as one meets with in ordinary warfare. Your information, Robert, is valuable, not altogether on account of its novelty, but rather as being confirmatory of what has hitherto amounted merely to conjecture on our part. I have long suspected that our friend Johnson is not quite so straightforward as he would have us believe. Well, ‘forewarned is forearmed;’ we are evidently in a very critical position here, a position demanding all the coolness, self-possession, and foresight we have at our command to enable us to successfully extricate ourselves; and I think we should give the matter our immediate consideration—now—to-night, I mean—we shall perhaps never have a better opportunity—and endeavour to decide upon some definite plan of future action.” “Very well,” said Captain Staunton, “let us continue our walk, and talk matters over. It is perfectly evident, as you say, Mr Evelin, that we are in a very critical and difficult position, and the question is, What steps ought we to take in order to extricate ourselves? I think it is pretty clear that this man Johnson has no intention of releasing us of his own free-will; we can be much too useful to him for him ever to do that; if, therefore, we are ever to get away from this place, it will have to be done in spite of him. And as we are too weak to escape by force, we must do so by craft; I can see no other way for it, can you?” “Well,” said Lance slowly, blowing a long thin cloud of cigar-smoke meditatively up into the warm still night air, “I fancy we shall have to try a combination of both. I cannot conceive any practicable course which will allow of our escaping without coming to blows with the pirates; I wish I could. Of course I do not care on my own account, although—notwithstanding my former profession—I am not particularly fond of fighting if it can be done without. But there are the ladies and poor little May; it is of them I always think when the idea of strife and bloodshed suggests itself. Then there is their comfort as well as their safety to be thought of; were it not for them I believe there would not be very much difficulty in seizing a stock of provisions and water, together with a boat, and slipping quietly out to sea some dark night, trusting to good fortune—or Providence rather—to be eventually picked up by a passing ship. But I should certainly be slow to recommend so desperate a course under present circumstances, save in the very last extremity. The hardships those poor creatures passed through in their last boat-voyage I have not yet forgotten.” It is not necessary to repeat every word of the discussion which followed; suffice it to say that it was of so protracted a character that the three individuals engaged in it did not enter their hut until the first faint flush of dawn was brightening the eastern sky. Bob had been dismissed within an hour of the termination of the concert with a message to the effect that Captain Staunton and his two companions felt more disposed for a walk than for sleep, and that the rest of the party had therefore better retire when they felt so inclined, as the hour at which the three gentlemen would return was quite uncertain. The time thus spent had not, however, been thrown away; for, after a very earnest discussion of the situation, the conclusion arrived at was that they could not do better than adhere to their original plan of endeavouring to make off with the new schooner, and that her construction should therefore be pushed forward with all possible expedition; but that, as there was only too much reason to dread a change from the present pacific and friendly disposition manifested toward them by the pirates, an attempt should also be made to win over as many as possible of the prisoners, not only with the object of effecting these poor creatures’ deliverance from a cruel bondage, but also in order that the fighting strength of the Galatea party (as they came to term themselves) might be so far increased as to give them a slightly better chance of success than they now had in the by no means improbable event of a brush with the enemy. Now that the keel of the new schooner was actually laid, operations were resumed with even more than their former alacrity on board the Albatross, and on the evening of the fourth day after the events related in the last chapter she was reported as once more ready for sea. During these four days Captain Staunton and the rest of his party—excepting Dale, who positively refused to do any work whatever—had, in accordance with their resolution, been extremely busy at the new shipyard, getting out and fixing in position the stem and stern posts; and it was only by the merest accident that they heard, on the evening in question, that the brig was to sail on the following day. As Lance had heard no more about the promised arms and ammunition, he at once determined to see Johnson once more respecting them. He accordingly set out in search of the pirate captain, but, to his chagrin, was quite unable to find him or to learn his whereabouts. He searched for him in vain the whole evening, venturing even on board the brig; and it was not until after eleven o’clock that night that he gave up the search in disgust with a strong impression that Johnson had been purposely avoiding him. On the following morning, however, he was more successful, having risen before daylight in order that he might catch his bird on his first appearance in the open air. At six o’clock the bell rang as usual for the hands to turn to, and a few minutes afterwards the whole place was astir. Lance walked down to the landing-place with Captain Staunton and the others, and saw them embark in the boats detailed to convey the working party to the new shipyard. He then whispered a word or two of explanation to his friends and allowed the boats to go away without him. They had been gone about ten minutes or a quarter of an hour when Lance saw the man he sought emerge from the capstan-house and walk hurriedly down toward the beach, where a boat, fully manned, appeared to be awaiting him. A few steps, and Lance was by his side. “Good morning, Captain Johnson,” he said with inward amusement as he noted the confusion of the pirate at the unexpected and evidently unwished-for meeting. “Good mornin’, general,” was Johnson’s response, given with a heartiness which was visibly assumed. “This is a real fine morning, I call it. Nice little breeze, too, off the land; I guess we shall make short miles of it to-day. I am downright glad you missed the boats this morning; overslept yourself, I s’pose; I wanted to say ‘good-bye’ to you and your chums, and I declare to goodness I was only just thinkin’ when you come up to me that I’d be obliged to heave the brig to off the rock and run ashore in a boat just to shake nippers with you. Well, I guess I must be off; there’s the foretop-sail just let fall, and I’m bound they’ve passed the messenger already. I’m real sorry I can’t take you all with me and shove you ashore somewhere on the quiet; but you see how ’tis; that feller Ralli—but I ain’t got time to talk any more, I swow. Good-bye. By the time I get back I reckon you’ll have the schooner pretty nigh ready for launching, eh?” “I hope so,” said Lance. “By the bye, have you made any arrangements for letting us have the arms you promised? That fellow Ralli, as you have remarked—” “The arms? Well, now, only to think of that!” exclaimed Johnson with well-feigned annoyance. “What a dog-goned forgetful cuss I am; blamed if I ain’t forgot all about ’em. I’ve been that busy, if you’ll believe me, general, I ain’t had time to swaller a mouthful of grub this four days; half-starved to death I am; just look at my waistcoat—fits me like a sack. But about them arms—I declare I am real sorry I forgot ’em, general; but never mind, I guess you won’t want ’em. If you do”—he button-holed Lance and whispered him confidentially—“just you take ’em—help yourself to ’em; I give you my permission, I swow. And now I really must say ‘good-bye.’ Take care of yourself, general, and go ahead with that schooner as fast as ever you can. Get her finished by the time I come back, and the battery too, and I promise you shall leave the island as soon as you like arterwards.” They were by this time at the water’s edge; and as Johnson uttered the last words of his farewell he sprang into the boat which was waiting for him, and flinging himself into the stern-sheets, gave the order to “shove off.” Ten minutes later the same boat was swinging at the brig’s quarter-davits, and the brig herself, with her anchor-stock just showing above water, was moving slowly away towards the harbour-entrance under topsails and jib. At a little distance from Lance stood Ralli, watching the departure of the brig. “Ah!” he muttered, “there you go, you vile American dog, you cowardly mean-spirited cur; take my parting curses with you; may you meet with nothing but ill-luck and perplexity; may misfortune follow you; may the very wind and the sea war against you; may the treachery which I have planned prevail over you; and may you die at last with the jeers of your enemies ringing in your ears. Good-bye! good-bye!” he shouted, bringing the tips of his fingers together at his lips and wafting with them an ironical salute after Johnson, who at that moment glanced shoreward and waved his cap. “Good-bye, and the devil himself go with you. Aha! my Yankee friend, you little know that you are taking your last look at this scene; you little dream that the brig carries a dagger whose blade is thirsty for your heart’s blood, and whose point I have directed at your breast. Adieu, miserable coward, for ever. I hope Antonio will not forget to tell you, as he drives home his blade, that it was I who ordered the blow; my revenge will else be robbed of half its sweetness. You thought, doubtless, that because it suited me to receive your insults in silence that I should soon forget them. Bah! you should have known better; my very quietness—the repression of my resentment—should have warned you; but you are a poor blind fool without any discernment, or you would have known that a Greek never forgives a wrong. Good-bye once more, and for the last time—good-bye; I wish you all speed on your road to perdition.” And he waved his hat smilingly at the fast receding brig as he saw Johnson raise a telescope to his eye and level it in his direction. When the Albatross had at length finally disappeared beyond the harbour’s mouth Ralli turned for the first time and caught sight of Lance. Stalking up to him he said scoffingly— “So, Mister Soldier, you have lost your friend at last.” “Yes,” said Lance very quietly, “if, as I imagine, you refer to your captain. But I must protest against your styling him my friend; he is nothing of the kind.” “Ah, yes,” sneered Ralli. “Now that he is gone, and can no longer protect you, you disown him. But that will not do. You and he were friends, whatever you may say. He is my enemy, and his friends are therefore my enemies also; and they will be treated as such; do you understand me?” “Not in the least,” said Lance, “I have not the faintest notion of your meaning.” “Then listen to me and I will explain,” said Ralli, his eyes gleaming vindictively. “Do you know that your friend yonder is fated never to return?” “What is the meaning of this?” thought Lance. “Some treachery or other on the part of this rascally Greek, I’ll wager. But it will never do to allow him to suppose that he is master of the situation so—” “I believe,” he said carelessly, “there is some sort of arrangement to that effect, is there not?” The Greek gazed at him in unaffected alarm. “Aha!” he ejaculated, “how came you to know that?” Lance smiled at him compassionately. “Did you really flatter yourself,” he said, “that your plans were so astutely devised—so cunningly concealed that none but you and your partisans could possibly know anything about them! Really, Mr Ralli, I fear you are greatly overrating your own sagacity. But we appear to be wandering away from the point. You were about to explain the meaning of an obscure remark you made a minute or two ago?” Lance had never removed his glance for a single instant from Ralli’s face since the commencement of the conversation; and he was physiognomist enough to detect the signs of a fear almost approaching to panic in the countenance of the Greek; he knew therefore that his bold guess had not been very far from the truth; and he continued to puff his cigar with all his wonted insouciance as he waited calmly for the reply to his interrogation. “Yes,” said Ralli, recovering his self-possession with evident effort. “I was about to explain two things—First, I wish you to understand that Johnson is not my captain, nor is he the captain of anyone now on this island. We have thrown off our—what do you term it? our—” “Allegiance?” blandly suggested Lance. “Our allegiance—yes, that word will do; it explains my meaning, though it is not the word I intended to use,” answered Ralli. “We have thrown off our allegiance. We are tired of him—this man Johnson—and we will have no more of him; he will never return here; and now I am capitan. You understand!” Lance nodded. “Good. The next thing I was about to explain is, that his friends are our enemies; you and your people especially. Is that plain?” “Perfectly,” answered Lance, still outwardly calm and unconcerned as ever, though inwardly much perturbed. “And I presume you intend us to accept these remarks of yours in the light of a threat of some kind?” Ralli looked hard at his interrogator before replying. He could not in the least understand this man who received with such perfect sang-froid the intelligence that he and his friends were to be regarded and treated as the enemies of a company of ruthless outlaws such as he must know Ralli and his associates to be. “Yes,” he said at last, slowly and almost doubtingly, “you may take what I say as a threat. I mean to pay to you and your friends all the great debt of vengeance which that other friend of yours, Johnson, has allowed to accumulate against him. I will be doubly avenged; I will be avenged upon him, and upon you as well.” Lance laughed gaily as he lightly knocked off with his little finger the ash from his cigar-end. This was a serious, a direful business; but he had no intention to let the Greek see that his words had any alarming or disturbing effect upon him, so he said with a smile— “Excuse me for laughing at you, but, under the circumstances I really could not help it. Your ignorance of the true state of affairs strikes me as so positively ludicrous. You forget, my good sir, that I am behind the scenes—in your secret, you know,” he added, seeing a look of bewilderment at the other expression. “Why, man, you and all your people are absolutely at our mercy. You look surprised, but I assure you such is the fact. I really do not know whether I ought to explain myself to you; I scarcely think you deserve it after your recent threats—no; I will keep my own counsel; you shall remain in your ignorance.” And he turned to walk away. “Stop,” gasped Ralli, “what is it you mean? I must know.” Lance paused for a full minute as though irresolute; at last he said— “Well, perhaps it would be better for all parties that there should be after all a clear understanding. You and your people outnumber our party many times, and it is indisputable that you have it in your power in consequence to make us very uncomfortable; but, for all that, you are absolutely at our mercy; and therefore it will be greatly to your advantage to treat us well. You will perhaps understand this better if I inform you that your plot against Johnson has been betrayed” (he did not think it necessary to explain that, as far as he knew, the only betrayal of it had been in the incautious words uttered by the Greek himself at the opening of their present conversation); “and that if he does not return neither will the brig; and then how will you be situated! You could possibly contrive to exist for a year upon the provisions left on the island; you might even, aided by the productions of the island itself, find sustenance for many years. But would the spending of the rest of your lives on this island be in accordance with your plans and wishes? And do you not think it possible that Johnson, in revenge for your plot against him, may find means to direct some cruiser to your hiding-place? Your imagination, I take it, is vivid enough to picture the consequences of any such step on his part.” “We shall have the battery and the schooner,” muttered Ralli. “Yes,” said Lance, “if we build them for you; not otherwise. There is not a man on this island, outside our own party, who could complete the schooner, much less build the battery. Now, do you begin to understand that I was only speaking the truth when I spoke of your being at our mercy.” Ralli was silent. He stood with knitted brows intently cogitating for some minutes; then suddenly looking up into Lance’s face with a smile he said— “Ah, bah! what obtuse people you English are; how impossible for you to understand a little joke! Well, I will joke no more since you cannot understand it. We will be good friends all round; the best of friends; you shall have no cause to complain of bad treatment; and you will work hard to finish the schooner and the battery early, please. I like not what you said just now about Johnson and the frigate. But that too was all a joke I know.” “You are mistaken,” said Lance. “I confess I was dense enough not to understand that you were joking, so I spoke in earnest. But I think we clearly understand each other now; so I hope we shall hear no more about threats, revenge, and nonsense of that kind.” And flinging his cigar-end into the water, Lance turned on his heel and walked away. Knowing, or at least shrewdly guessing that Ralli was watching him, he sauntered away in his usual careless and easy fashion toward the hut, which they had laughingly dubbed “Staunton Cottage,” and entered it. The ladies were busying themselves about various domestic tasks, and little May was amusing herself with an uncouth wooden doll which Bob had constructed for her. Lance was a prime favourite with May, so the moment that he entered the doll was flung into a corner, and the child came bounding up to him joyously exclaiming— “Oh, you funny Mr Evelin, how is it that you have not gone with my papa? Did you stay at home on purpose to play with me?” “Well, not exactly, little one,” answered Lance, catching her in his arms and tossing her high in the air, to her infinite delight. “Not exactly; although a man might be worse employed than in amusing you, you mischievous little fairy. No; I am going to papa presently—and would you like to come with me, May, in a nice little boat?” “I don’t know,” answered the child doubtfully. “How far is it? I don’t think I like boats.” “No, you poor little mite, I expect not; it would be wonderful if you did after what you have suffered in them,” remarked Lance, holding the child now in his arms, while she played with his long beard. “But we shall not have very far to go, pet; only over to that big rock,” pointing out of the window, “and I will take great care of you.” “And shall I see my papa?” inquired May. “Oh, yes,” was the reply; “you will be with him all day. And Robert is over there too, you know; and I daresay he will play with you if you ask him prettily.” “Then I’ll go,” she decided promptly; and forthwith went away to her mother with the request that her hat and jacket might be put on, “’cause I’s going with Mr Evelin to see papa,” as she explained. “I daresay you are somewhat surprised to see me here,” remarked Lance, as he replaced his tiny playfellow on the floor. “The fact is that I have been watching the departure of the brig; and the idea has occurred to me that now she is gone, and so many of the remaining men are away at the shipyard all day, you ladies may with, I believe, perfect safety indulge in the unwonted luxury of a daylight walk. You all stand greatly in need of fresh air and exercise; and I really think there is now no cause to fear any molestation, otherwise I should not of course suggest such a thing. It will never do, you know, for you to remain cooped up here day after day—you will get low-spirited and out of health; and I am inclined to believe it will be rather a good idea than otherwise to accustom these fellows to the sight of you moving freely and fearlessly about.” The ladies were quite unanimous in their cordial welcome to this suggestion, Blanche only venturing to add in a whisper, and with a pleading look— “Can you not come with us, Lance? We should feel quite safe then.” “I really could not, darling,” he answered gently. “It would not be fair to the others, you know. Beside which, I am urgently wanted at the yard to-day, and we must not let pleasure, however tempting, interfere with the progress of the schooner. I should like it immensely, of course, and if I thought there was the least particle of danger in your expedition I would go; but I believe there is none. At the same time, you will of course keep your eyes open, dear, and be on the watch for any suspicious circumstance; and if you really must have an escort, there is Dale; shall I ask him?” “Oh, Dale!” ejaculated Blanche with such a contemptuous toss of her pretty little head that Lance said no more; it was sufficiently evident that the ladies would be badly in want of an escort indeed before they would accept Dale. The three ladies were soon ready; and as they took their way up the valley Lance stood at the door with May on his shoulder, watching them; and when at last they passed out of sight he made his way down to the landing-place, seated the child carefully in the stern of a small dingy which he found moored there, cast off the painter, stepped in himself, and, shipping the short paddles, drove the tiny boat with long easy leisurely strokes down toward the rock, chatting gaily with his tiny companion the while, and causing her childish laughter to peal musically and incessantly across the placid surface of the land-locked water. <hr></div> <div class="bodytext"> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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