VII
This man looked steadily at Barnaby True for above half a minute and
then burst out a-laughing. And, indeed, Barnaby, standing there with
the bandage about his head, must have looked a very droll picture of
that astonishment he felt so profoundly at finding who was this pirate
into whose hands he had fallen. "Well," says the other, "and so you be
up at last, and no great harm done, I'll be bound. And how does your
head feel by now, my young master?"
To this Barnaby made no reply, but, what with wonder and the dizziness
of his head, seated himself at the table over against his interlocutor,
who pushed a bottle of rum towards him, together with a glass from the
hanging rack. He watched Barnaby fill his glass, and so soon as he had
done so began immediately by saying: "I do suppose you think you were
treated mightily ill to be so handled last night. Well, so you were
treated ill enough, though who hit you that crack upon the head I know
no more than a child unborn. Well, I am sorry for the way you were
handled, but there is this much to say, and of that you may feel well
assured, that nothing was meant to you but kindness, and before you are
through with us all you will believe that without my having to tell you
so."
Here he helped himself to a taste of grog, and sucking in his lips went
on again with what he had to say. "Do you remember," says he, "that
expedition of ours in Kingston Harbor, and how we were all of us balked
that night?" then, without waiting for Barnaby's reply: "And do you
remember what I said to that villain Jack Malyoe that night as his boat
went by us? I says to him, 'Jack Malyoe,' says I, 'you've got the
better of us once again, but next time it will be our turn, even if
William Brand himself has to come back from the grave to settle with
you.'"
"I remember something of the sort," said Barnaby, "but I profess I am
all in the dark as to what you are driving at."
At this the other burst out in a great fit of laughing. "Very well,
then," said he, "this night's work is only the ending of what was so
ill begun there. Look yonder"--pointing to a corner of the cabin--"and
then maybe you will be in the dark no longer." Barnaby turned his head
and there beheld in the corner of the saloon those very two
travelling-cases that Sir John Malyoe had been so particular to keep in his
cabin and under his own eyes through all the voyage from Jamaica.
"I'll show you what is in 'em," says the other, and thereupon arose,
and Barnaby with him, and so went over to where the two
travelling-cases stood.
Our hero had a strong enough suspicion as to what the cases contained.
But, Lord! what were suspicions to what his two eyes beheld when that
man lifted the lid of one of them--the locks thereof having already
been forced--and, flinging it back, displayed to Barnaby's astonished
and bedazzled sight a great treasure of gold and silver, some of it
tied up in leathern bags, to be sure, but so many of the coins, big and
little, yellow and white, lying loose in the cases as to make our hero
think that a great part of the treasures of the Indies lay there before
him.
"Well, and what do you think of that?" said the other. "Is it not
enough for a man to turn pirate for?" and thereupon burst out
a-laughing and clapped down the lid again. Then suddenly turning serious:
"Come Master Barnaby," says he. "I am to have some very sober talk with
you, so fill up your glass again and then we will heave at it."
Nor even in after years, nor in the light of that which afterwards
occurred, could Barnaby repeat all that was said to him upon that
occasion, for what with the pounding and beating of his aching head,
and what with the wonder of what he had seen, he was altogether in the
dark as to the greater part of what the other told him. That other
began by saying that Barnaby, instead of being sorry that he was
William Brand's grandson, might thank God for it; that he (Barnaby) had
been watched and cared for for twenty years in more ways than he would
ever know; that Sir John Malyoe had been watched also for all that
while, and that it was a vastly strange thing that Sir John Malyoe's
debts in England and Barnaby's coming of age should have brought them
so together in Jamaica--though, after all, it was all for the best, as
Barnaby himself should presently see, and thank God for that also. For
now all the debts against that villain Jack Malyoe were settled in
full, principal and interest, to the last penny, and Barnaby was to
enjoy it the most of all. Here the fellow took a very comfortable sip
of his grog, and then went on to say with a very cunning and knowing
wink of the eye that Barnaby was not the only passenger aboard, but
that there was another in whose company he would be glad enough, no
doubt, to finish the balance of the voyage he was now upon. So now, if
Barnaby was sufficiently composed, he should be introduced to that
other passenger. Thereupon, without waiting for a reply, he
incontinently arose and, putting away the bottle of rum and the
glasses, went across the saloon--Barnaby watching him all the while
like a man in a dream--and opened the door of a cabin like that which
Barnaby had occupied a little while before. He was gone only for a
moment, for almost immediately he came out again ushering a lady before
him.
By now the daylight in the cabin was grown strong and clear, so that
the light shining full upon her face, Barnaby True knew her the instant
she appeared.
It was Miss Marjorie Malyoe, very white, but strangely composed,
showing no terror, either in her countenance or in her expression.
* * * * *
It would not be possible for the writer to give any clear idea of the
circumstances of the days that immediately followed, and which, within
a week, brought Barnaby True and the enchanting object of his
affections at once to the ending of their voyage, and of all these
marvellous adventures. For when, in after times, our hero would
endeavor to revive a memory of the several occurrences that then
transpired, they all appeared as though in a dream or a bewitching
phantasm.
All that he could recall were long days of delicious enjoyment followed
by nights of dreaming. But how enchanting those days! How exquisite the
distraction of those nights!
Upon occasions he and his charmer might sit together under the shade of
the sail for an hour at a stretch, he holding her hand in his and
neither saying a single word, though at times the transports of poor
Barnaby's emotions would go far to suffocate him with their rapture. As
for her face at such moments, it appeared sometimes to assume a
transparency as though of a light shining from behind her countenance.
The vessel in which they found themselves was a brigantine of good size
and build, but manned by a considerable crew, the most strange and
outlandish in their appearance that Barnaby had ever beheld. For some
were white, some were yellow, and some were black, and all were tricked
out with gay colors, and gold ear-rings in their ears, and some with
long mustachios, and others with handkerchiefs tied around their heads.
And all these spoke together a jargon of which Barnaby True could not
understand a single word, but which might have been Portuguese from one
or two phrases he afterwards remembered. Nor did this outlandish crew,
of God knows what sort of men, address any of their conversation either
to Barnaby or to the young lady. They might now and then have looked at
him and her out of the corners of their yellow eyes, but that was all;
otherwise they were, indeed, like the creatures of a dream. Only he who
was commander of this strange craft, when he would come down into the
saloon to mix a glass of grog or to light a pipe of tobacco, would
maybe favor Barnaby with a few words concerning the weather or
something of the sort, and then to go on deck again about his business.
Indeed, it may be affirmed with pretty easy security that no such
adventure as this ever happened before; for here were these two
innocent young creatures upon board of a craft that no one, under such
circumstances as those recounted above, could doubt was a pirate or
buccaneer, the crew whereof had seen no one knows what wicked deeds;
yet they two as remote from all that and as profoundly occupied with
the transports of their passion and as innocent in their satisfaction
thereof as were Corydon and Phyllis beside their purling streams and
flowery meads, with nymphs and satyrs caracoling about them.
