Spanish Doubloons

by Camilla Kenyon

  XVIII

  OF WHICH COOKIE IS THE HERO

  Next morning I came out of the hut in time to see Mr. Shaw and hiscompanion in duress led forth from the sleeping quarters which theyhad shared with their captors. They were moored as before to apalm tree, by a rope having a play of two or three feet, and theirhands unbound while they made a hasty breakfast under the eye of awatchful sentinel. Then their wrists were tied again, notpainfully, but with a firmness which made any slipping of theirbonds impossible.

  While the pirates were breakfasting a spirited dispute took placeamong them as to who should go to the treasure cave and who stay incamp to guard the prisoners. Slinker and Horny urged with justicethat as they had missed all the excitement of the preceding day itwas their turn to visit the cave. There not only the probablerapture of exhuming the chest awaited them, but the certainprivilege of inspecting "the Bones." This ghastly relic seemed toexercise an immense fascination upon their imaginations, afascination not unmingled with superstitious dread. The right tosee the Bones, then, Slinker and Horny passionately claimed. Tonysupported them, and it ended with Chris and Captain Magnus beingtold off as our guards for the morning.

  At this Chris raised a feeble lamentation, but he was evidently aperson whose objections nobody was accustomed to heed. CaptainMagnus, who might with plausibility have urged claims superior tothose of all the rest, assented to the arrangement with awillingness which filled me with boding. I had caught his restlessfurtive eye fixed gloatingly upon me more than once. I saw that hewas aware of my terror, and exulted in it, and took a felinepleasure in playing me, as it were, and letting me realize by slowdegrees what his power over me would be when he chose finally toexert it. My best hope for the present, once the merciful orprudent Tony was out of sight, lay in this disposition ofmy tormentor to sit quiescent and anticipate the future.Nevertheless, in leaving the cabin I had slipped into my blouse asmall penknife which I had found in Aunt Jane's bag. It was quitenew, and I satisfied myself that the blades were keen. My ownlarge sheath-knife and my revolver I had been deprived of at thesuggestion of the thoughtful Magnus. I had surrendered themunprotestingly, fearful of all things that my possessions might beransacked and Peter's diary, though hidden with much art at thebottom of a bag, be brought to light. For I might yet sell thesecret of the Island Queen at a price which should redeem us all.

  Unobtrusively clutching for comfort at the penknife in my blouse, Iwatched the departure of the pirates, including my protector Tony.They had taken Mr. Tubbs with them, although he had magnanimouslyoffered to remain behind and help guard the camp. Evidently hisexperience of the previous day had not filled him with confidencein his new friends. It might be quite possible that he intended,if left behind, to turn his coat again and assist us in a break forliberty. If so, he was defeated by the perspicacious Tony, whoobserved that when he found a pal that suited him as well asWashtubs he liked to keep him under his own eye. With a spade overhis reluctant shoulder, and many a dubious backward glance, Mr.Tubbs followed the file into the woods.

  Aunt Jane had a bad headache, and as nobody objected she hadremained in the cabin. Miss Browne and I had been informed by Tonythat we might do as we liked so long as we did not attempt to leavethe clearing. Already Violet had betaken herself to a camp-chairin the shade and was reading a work entitled _Thoughts on theInvolute Spirality of the Immaterial_. Except for the prisonerstied to the palm tree, the camp presented superficially a scene ofpeace. Cookie busied himself with a great show of briskness in hiskitchen. Because of the immense circumspection of his behavior hewas being allowed a considerable degree of freedom. He served hisnew masters apparently as zealously as he had served us, butenveloped in a portentous silence. "Yes, sah--no, sah," were theonly words which Cookie in captivity had been heard to utter. Yetfrom time to time I had caught a glance of dark significance fromCookie's rolling eye, and I felt that he was loyal, and that thisenforced servitude to the unkempt fraternity of pirates was adegradation which touched him to the quick.

  I had followed the example of Miss Higglesby-Browne as regards thecamp-chair and the book. What the book was I have not the leastidea, but I perused it with an appearance of profound abstractionwhich I hoped might discourage advances on the part of CaptainMagnus. Also I made sure that the penknife was within instantreach. Meanwhile my ears, and at cautious intervals my eyes, keptme informed of the movements of our guards.

  For a considerable time the two ruffians, lethargic after anenormous breakfast, lay about idly in the shade and smoked. As Ilistened to their lazy, fragmentary conversation vast gulfs ofmental vacuity seemed to open before me. I wondered whether afterall wicked people were just stupid people--and then I thought ofAunt Jane--who was certainly not wicked--

  As the heat increased a voice of lamentation broke from Chris. Hewas dry--dry enough to drink up the condemned ocean. No, he didn'twant spring water, which Cookie obsequiously tendered him; hewanted a _drink_--wouldn't anybody but a fool nigger know that?There was plenty of the real stuff aboard the schooner, on theother side of the--adjective--island. Why had they, withincredible lack of forethought, brought along nothing but theirpocket flasks? Why hadn't they sent the adjective nigger back formore? Where was the bottle or two that had been rooted out lastnight from the medical stores? Empty? Every last drop gone downsomebody's greedy gullet? The adjectives came thick and fast asChris hurled the bottle into the bay, where it swam bobbingly uponthe ripples. Captain Magnus agreed with the gist of Chris'sremarks, but deprecated, in a truly philosophical spirit, theirunprofitable heat. There wasn't any liquor, so what was the goodof making an adjective row? Hadn't he endured the equivalent ofChris's present sufferings for weeks? He was biding his time, hewas. Plenty of drink by and by, plenty of all that makes life softand easy. He bet there wouldn't many hit any higher spots thanhim. He bet there was one little girl that would be looked on aslucky, in case she was a good little girl and encouraged him toshow his natural kindness. And I was favored with a blood-curdlingleer from across the camp, of which I had put as much as possiblebetween myself and the object of my dread.

  But now, like a huge black Ganymede, appeared Cookie, bearing cupsand a large stone crock.

  "It suhtinly am a fact, Mistah Chris, sah," said Cookie, "dat deyis a mighty unspirituous fluidity 'bout dis yere spring watah.Down war I is come from no pussons of de Four Hund'ed ain't eveh'customed to partake of such. But the sassiety I has been inlately round dis yere camp ain't of de convivulous ordah; oleCookie had to keep it dark dat he got his li'le drop o' comfort onde side. Dis yere's only home-made stuff, sah. 'Tain't what Icould offah to a gennelmun if so be I is got the makin's of agenuwine old-style julep what is de beverage of de fust fam'lies.But bein' as it is, it am mighty coolin', sah, and it got a li'lekick to it--not much, but jes' 'bout enough to make a gennelmunfeel lak he is one."

  Cookie's tones dripped humility and propitiation. He offered thebrimming cup cringingly to the pale-eyed, red-nosed Chris, whoreached for it with alacrity, drank deep, smacked his lipsmeditatively, and after a moment passed the cup back.

  "'Tain't so worse," he said approvingly. "Anyhow, it's _drink_!"

  Magnus suddenly began to laugh.

  "S'elp me, it's the same dope what laid out the Honorable!" hechortled. "Here, darky, let's have a swig of it!"

  Cookie complied, joining respectfully in the captain's mirth.

  "I guess you-all is got stronger haids den dat young gennelmun!" heremarked. "Dis yere ole niggah has help hissef mighty freely anddat Prohibititionist Miss Harding ain't eveh found it out. Fac'is, it am puffeckly harmless 'cept when de haid is weak."

  False, false Cookie! Black brother in perfidy to Mr. Tubbs! Onefriend the less to be depended on if a chance for freedom ever cameto us! A hot flush of surprise and anger dyed my cheeks, and Ifelt the indignant pang of faith betrayed. I had been as sure ofCookie's devotion as of Crusoe's--which reminded me that the littledog had not returned to camp since he fl
ed before the onslaught ofthe vengeful captain.

  Cookie refilled the pirates' cups, and set the crock beside them onthe ground.

  "In case you gennelmun feels yo'selfs a li'le thursty later on," heremarked. He was retiring, when Captain Magnus called to him.

  "Blackie, this ain't bad. It's coolin', but thin--a real niceladylike sort of drink, I should say. Suppose you take a swig overto Miss Jinny there with my compliments--I'm one to always treat alady generous if she gives me half a chance."

  Obediently Cookie hastened for another cup, set it on a tray, andapproached me with his old-time ornate manner. I faced him with awithering look, but, unmindful, he bowed, presenting me the cup,and interposing his bulky person between me and the deeply-quaffingpirates. At the same time his voice reached me, pitched in a lowand anxious key.

  "Fo' de Lawd's sake, Miss Jinny, spill it out! It am mightypowerful dope--it done fumented twice as long as befo'--it am boun'to give dat trash de blind-staggahs sho'tly!"

  Instantly I understood, and a thrill of relief and of hopeinexpressible shot through me. I raised to the troubled black facea glance which I trust was eloquent--it must needs have been toexpress the thankfulness I felt. Cookie responded with a solemnand convulsive wink--and I put the cup to my lips and after a briefparade of drinking passed it back to Cookie, spilling the contentson the ground en route.

  Cookie retired with his tray in his most impressive cake-walkfashion, and in passing announced to Captain Magnus that "MissJinny say she mos' suhtinly am obligated to de gennelmun to' derefreshment of dis yere acidulous beverage." Which bare-facedmendacity provoked a loud roar of amusement from the sentinels, whowere still sampling the cooling contents of the stone crock.

  "Learning to like what I do already, hey?" guffawed the captain,and he called on Chris to drain another cup with him to the lady ofhis choice.

  I have believed since that dragging, interminable time which I nowlived through, that complete despair, where you rest quite finallyon bedrock and have nothing to dread in the way of further tumbles,must be a much happier state than the dreadful one of oscillatingbetween hope and fear. For a leaden-footed eternity, it seemed tome, I oscillated, longing for, yet dreading, the signs thatCookie's powerful dope had begun to work upon our guards--for mightnot the first symptoms be quite different from the anticipatedblind staggers? Fancy a murderous maniac pair reeling about theclearing, with death-vomiting revolvers and gleaming knives!

  And then suddenly time, which had dragged so slowly, appeared togallop, and the morning to be fleeing past, so that every wave thatbroke upon the beach was the footfalls of the returning pirates.Long, long before that thirsty, garrulous pair grew still andtorpid their companions must return--

  And I saw Cookie, his stratagem discovered, dangling from aconvenient tree.

  Gradually the rough disjointed talk of the sailors began tolanguish. Covertly watching, I saw that Chris's head had begun todroop. His body, propped comfortably against a tree, sagged alittle. The hand that held the cup was lifted, stretched out inthe direction of the enticing jar, then forgetting its errand fellheavily. After a few spasmodic twitchings of the eyelids anduneasy grunts, Chris slumbered.

  Captain Magnus was of tougher fiber. But he, too, grew silent andthere was a certain meal-sack limpness about his attitude. Hisdulled eyes stared dreamily. All at once with a jerk he rousedhimself, turned over, and administered to the sleeping Chris a prodwith his large boot.

  "Hey, there, wake up! What right you got to be asleep at theswitch?" But Chris only breathed more heavily.

  Captain Magnus himself heaved a tremendous yawn, settled back ingreater comfort against his sustaining tree, and closed his eyes.I waited, counting the seconds by the beating of the blood in myears. In the background Cookie hovered apprehensively. Plainly hewould go on hovering unless loud snores from the pirates gave himassurance. For myself, I sat fingering my penknife, wonderingwhether I ought to rush over and plunge it into the sleepers'throats. This would be heroic and practical, but unpleasant. If,on the other hand, I merely tried to free the prisoners and CaptainMagnus woke, what then? The palm where they were tied was a dozenyards from me, much nearer to the guards, and within range of eventheir most languid glance. Beyond the prisoners was Miss Browne,glaring uncomprehendingly over the edge of her book. There was nohelp in Miss Browne.

  I left my seat and stole on feet which seemed to stir every leafand twig to loud complaint toward the captive pair. Tense,motionless, with burning eyes, they waited. There was a movementfrom Captain Magnus; he yawned, turned and muttered. I stoodstricken, my heart beating with loud thumps against my ribs. Butthe captain's eyes remained closed.

  "Virginia--quick, Virginia!" Dugald Shaw was stretching out hisbound hands to me, and I had dropped on my knees before him andbegun to cut at the knotted cords. They were tough strong cords,and I was hacking at them feverishly when something bounded acrossthe clearing and flung itself upon me. Crusoe, of course!--andwild with the joy of reunion. I strangled a cry of dismay, andwith one hand tried to thrust him off while I cut through the ropewith the other.

  "Down, Crusoe!" I kept desperately whispering. But Crusoe wasunused to whispered orders. He kept bounding up on me, intent tofulfil an unachieved ambition of licking my ear. Cuthbert Vanetried, under his breath, to lure him away. But Crusoe's emotionswere all for me, and swiftly becoming uncontrollable they burstforth in a volley of shrill yelps.

  A loud cry answered them. It came from Captain Magnus, who hadscrambled to his feet and was staggering across the clearing. Onehand was groping at his belt--it was flourished in the air with thegleam of a knife in it--and staggering and shouting the captaincame on.

  "Ah, you would, would you? I'll teach you--but first I settle_him_, the porridge-eatin' Scotch swine--"

  The reeling figure with the knife was right above me. I sprang up,in my hand the little two-inch weapon which was all I had for mydefense--and Dugald Shaw's. There were loud noises in my ears, theshouting of men, and a shrill continuous note which I have sincerealized came from the lungs of Miss Higglesby-Browne. Magnus madea lunge forward--the arm with the knife descended. I caughtit--wrenched at it frantically--striving blindly to wield my littlepenknife, whether or not with deadly intent I don't know to thisday. He turned on me savagely, and the penknife was whirled frommy hand as he caught my wrist in a terrible clutch.

  All I remember after that is the terrible steely grip of thecaptain's arms and a face, flushed, wild-eyed, horrible, that wasclose to mine and inevitably coming closer, though I fought andtore at it--of hot feverish lips whose touch I knew would scorch meto the soul--and then I was suddenly free, and falling, falling, along way through darkness.