The Edward S. Ellis Megapack

by Edward S. Ellis

  The captain and mate both understood the meaning of this, for it showed only too clearly how impatient the men were to commit the crime which they had in mind. Still, there was no excuse for refusal, and the officers were anxious enough to see the place for themselves. Each had his revolver carefully shoved into his pocket, and each knew that the six chambers were fully charged, when they sprang over the vessel’s side and started toward the northernmost part of the island. The captain and mate led the way, for they were sure they were in no personal danger so long as the oyster-bed remained undiscovered.

  The fringe of coral trees was quite broad, but, as the little party made their way through them, they could catch the gleam of the water on each side, while the roar and boom of the breakers never ceased.

  The sun seemed to linger in the horizon to their left, as if to guide them in the search they were making.

  As they advanced, all observed that the outer rim of this fringe was very irregular, as if it had been broken up and changed by the action of fierce tempests for many decades. This peculiarity, if such it may be termed, left many places where the ocean was as calm as within the atoll, and it was in one of these that the oyster-bed for which they were searching was to be found.

  Mate and captain advanced quite spiritedly for some distance, until they were close to the northernmost portion, when they hesitated, slackened their gait, looked to the right and left, conferred in low tones, and then the captain suddenly exclaimed:

  “This looks like the spot!”

  The words were scarcely out of his mouth when the two men dashed down the slight slope, ran a short distance, and then abruptly halted close to the water’s edge, at a point where the sea was locked in so that it was only slightly disturbed by the ordinary swell. Close behind them were Redvignez and Brazzier, while Pomp brought up the rear. The three men exchanged only a word or two while following, and those were heard by the leaders, because they were of no significance, but it is safe to conclude they did a great deal of thinking.

  The five grouped themselves along the water, standing side by side and peering down into the depths before them. This perhaps averaged three fathoms, and the water itself was as clear as crystal, without even the tinge of green generally seen in the ocean. The bottom was quite even and flat, resting upon a substratum of coral. The glinting rays of the sun helped, so that a marble could have been distinguished many fathoms down. And looking downward, the quintette saw the bottom strewn with oysters of unusual size, lying so close together that in many places they seemed to touch each other.

  For a full minute the five stood motionless and speechless. It was Pomp who was the first to recover his voice:

  “My gracious! am dem ’isters full of pearls?”

  “That can only be told by examination,” was the quiet reply of Mr. Storms.

  “Dat’s ruther deep to dive down, an’ how ’bout sharks?”

  The mate smiled.

  “We thought of all that before we left home, Pomp.”

  “Well, what good did all de thinkin’ do? Dat won’t drive away de shark, dat would as lief bite a man in two as to swaller a fish.”

  “If you and Redvig will return to the vessel and get that coat of mail on deck, I will agree to go down there and take all the risks.”

  The three mutineers, as they may be called, exchanged glances, but said nothing. The captain and mate noted this telegraphy of the eyes, and they, too, were silent, but it was a little test which they had determined upon before leaving the Coral, lying some distance away, safely moored close inshore. Evidently the three could think of no valid excuse, and Brazzier said, in a low voice, which was heard by all:

  “Go, men, and hurry back.”

  Pomp started off at once, Redvignez following close behind him. The mate and captain saw they were speaking together; but, of course, it could only be conjectured what they were talking about.

  The three who remained behind were in an embarrassing situation, for there could be no doubt that Brazzier, the leader in the plot, had had his suspicions aroused by this little incident, and it was hard work for him to conceal a certain uneasiness at the thought that he had lost the confidence of the two officers of the Coral.

  With a view of strengthening his position, Captain Bergen took out his revolver, looked at it in an inquiring way, and then shoved it back into his hip-pocket. Abe Storms did precisely the same thing, excepting that he perhaps made a little more display about it.

  Not one of the three as yet had spoken a word; but Brazzier, as if to conceal his uneasiness, advanced to the edge of the water and peered down into the crystal depths at the supposed wealth which lay scattered over the bottom, awaiting the hour when some one should draw it forth from the hiding-place it had occupied for so many years.

  “If they’ve got pearls in ’em,” observed Brazzier,“it’ll make a good haul for us.”

  “There is reason to think so,” replied the captain, holding his peace, for he began to suspect that too much deference had already been paid to the crew.

  Since Pomp and Redvignez were making good time, they soon reappeared, bearing between them the coat of armor which Abe Storms had constructed before leaving his New England home. This, it may be said, was an invention peculiarly his own, containing some conveniences not generally attributed to diving-bells or armor, and which, if they withstood the test to which they were sure to be subjected, would be a great step forward in the rapid improvements that have been made in submarine armor during the last few years. A superficial examination would not discover anything out of the usual order in the make of the armor, with its bulging glass eyes and general resemblance to the coats of mail such as were used by the crusaders and knights of the middle ages. There were the two pipes, one of which went in at the top of the helmet, as if the man were going to breathe through the crown of his head, while the other was adjusted so as to come nearer the front of the face. One of these was for the admission of fresh air, and the other for the expulsion of that which was exhaled. Besides this, there was the rope, fastened around the waist of the diver, to assist him to the surface should a sudden necessity arise. But, without going into any detailed description, we may say that the ingenious New Englander had so constructed it that he required the assistance of no second person at any portion of the work.

  Storms immediately began adjusting the apparatus, the others standing off and looking on, for he had declined their proffers of service. The armor had never been tested, and the man might well pause, now that he was going to stake his life upon the issue, as may be said.

  But it was not that fact which caused the mate the most uneasiness, for his confidence in his own invention was so strong that he would not have hesitated a moment to trust himself in water of twice the depth. Indeed, the pearls were so near at hand that a very ordinary diver would have found no difficulty in bringing them up without the help of any armor at all—the latter being required by other considerations.

  “Now, all I want done is to allow the two upper ends of the pipes to be kept clear,” said Storms, when he had adjusted the “harness” about him. “I will do the breathing for myself, provided I am not interfered with.”

  The two ends were secured among the coral in such a way that there was no danger of their being drawn in by any action of the armor itself, and then Storms, taking an immense sheath-knife in his hand, promptly stepped off from the shore, and as promptly sank under water.

  It was a singular sight the four companions whom he left behind saw, when they approached to the edge of the water and looked over.

  The mate, incased in his armor, looked like some huge, curiously-shaped shellfish or monster, whose weight was such that he went as straight down as an arrow, and, a few seconds later, was seen bent over and moving about the bottom, loosening up the oysters.

  This first venture of Storms’ was more in the nature of an experiment or preliminary reconnoissance. He wished to find how the land lay, as the expression goes. If everything should
prove to be in good shape, he would venture down again, with a basket, and the real work of gathering the pearl-oysters would begin.

  As we have intimated, Abe Storms felt no misgivings concerning his armor when he moved off from solid land and was submerged in the edge of the Pacific, for he had constructed so many contrivances and machines that he had learned to understand fully what they would do before they were put to work. He carried the enormous sheath-knife in his right hand, and when his feet lightly touched the shells on the bottom, he began turning them over with the point of his knife. The depth of the water being so moderate, he found no difficulty in breathing, and indeed the conditions were such that whoever chose to collect the oysters in this armor was not likely to experience the slightest difficulty.

  Down where he was at work the water seemed to be of a light-yellowish tint, caused by the refraction of the sunlight as it made its way to him. He noticed the mild glow, which, of course, would steadily diminish as the sun went down, when all at once it was eclipsed so suddenly by a dark shadow that he instantly suspected the true cause.

  Looking upward, he saw an immense shark, certainly a dozen feet in length, that had halted and was evidently surveying with some curiosity this intruder upon his domains.

  The man-eater being directly over the diver, was not in the best position to use his fearful jaws with effect, but he was evidently reconnoitering with a view to hostilities. Abe observed that this shadowy figure was motionless, its fins slightly moving back and forth as if it were using them like a balancing-pole, to maintain itself motionless in position, and he marked the horridly-shaped mouth which yawned over his head. Reaching upward with his long-bladed knife, he touched it against the white belly of the monster, and then gave it a strong push.

  It was so keen and sharp that it entered deep into the yielding flesh and inflicted a severe wound. Just then the gigantic man-eater suspected he had committed a blunder, and with a lightning-like whirl of his huge body, he dashed out to sea, leaving a crimson trail after him.

  Indeed, his charge was so sudden that the huge knife was wrenched from the grasp of Abe Storms, and he was drawn forward off his balance. Had it been in the open air, he would have been hurled to the ground with great force. But he managed to recover himself, and caught a shadowy glimpse of the great shark darting off, as the knife dropped from the wound and sank to the bottom. Not wishing to lose the valuable weapon, Storms walked forward, and seeing it lying on the bottom, at a point which seemed to be the edge of the oyster-bed, he stooped over and recovered it.

  He had now been down a considerable while, and muttered:

  “The captain promised to signal me if trouble came, and he hasn’t done so. But, for all that, I don’t believe it will be safe for me to stay down here much longer. I may as well—”

  The sentence was never finished, for it received a startling interruption. The rubber pipes by which he breathed were suddenly closed, and Abe Storms knew it had been done purposely by some one above.

  CHAPTER XIV

  The Revolt

  For a brief while after the descent of the mate of the Coral, incased in his new diving armor, the four men above did nothing more than merely wait for his coming up. But all the time the parties were watching each other, for Captain Bergen was convinced that the crisis was at hand. The mutineers had learned where the oyster-bed was, and therefore could be no longer restrained by that consideration. They could get on without the diving-armor, though they saw how convenient it might be to have it; but, since it was connected with the shore, it could be drawn in and recovered if they should need it.

  The mate was down in the ocean, and the captain was standing on terra firma. What more favorable separation was likely to present itself? Here were three men against one, and the three had gained the secret which had restrained them so long.

  “I say,” said Hyde Brazzier, “does the mate down there find things as he expected?”

  “We can tell that better after he comes up,” was the reply of the captain, who kept his hand at his hip, where it could rest on the butt of his revolver. “But there is reason to believe that he isn’t disappointed.”

  “And he breathes through these pipes that lie here?” pursued Brazzier, while the expression on the face of Pomp and Redvignez convinced Skipper Bergen that serious mischief was coming.

  “You can see that without asking me,” replied he, stepping back a pace or two so as to keep the men before him.

  “Well, if a man can’t get what air he wants, what is likely to happen?” continued Brazzier, with an insolent swagger that was exasperating, following upon his fawning sycophancy.

  “Any fool would know that he would die.”

  “Well, now that we’ve landed, I don’t see as there is any need of a mate or a captain neither, with this crew—do you, boys?”

  And he turned toward his companions with a laugh.

  “Of course not. The best place for him is in Davy Jones’ locker!” said Redvignez.

  “Now you is talkin’ right!” was the characteristic comment of the negro, Pomp, who seemed the most eager of the three, when the mutiny had come to a head.

  It was evident that Brazzier had determined to drown the mate while he was below the surface.

  “The first man who interferes with those pipes I will shoot dead!”

  Captain Bergen spoke the words in a low voice, but there could be no mistaking his deadly earnestness. Feeling that the crisis had come, the captain determined to give the signal agreed upon with Abe Storms, which was a sudden jerk of the rope fastened to the one around the waist of the mate. The latter would understand that his presence above was needed at once.

  The captain was in the act of stooping over, when Redvignez sprang behind him with the stealth and agility of a cat, and struck his arm a violent blow. His purpose was to knock the revolver out of the captain’s hand, so that he and his friends could secure the use of it. But he overdid the matter, for the revolver went spinning out of the captain’s hand and dropped into the water, where it sank out of sight. Startled and shocked, he straightened up without giving the signal to Abe Storms below the surface.

  None of the party had any firearms, but Captain Bergen saw it would be madness for him to make any resistance. Without a moment’s hesitation, therefore, he wheeled about and ran with all the speed of which he was capable.

  His flight was not altogether an aimless one, for he hoped to reach the schooner, lying an eighth of a mile away, far enough in advance of his pursuers to seize one of the rifles carefully concealed there, and to make defense against his foes. The instant he broke into a run, his pursuers did the same, uttering loud shouts, as if they were American Indians who were certain of their prey.

  For the time, it was a question of speed between pursuers and pursued. If the latter could reach the craft considerably ahead of the others, there was a chance of his making a successful defense against the three who were seeking his life. If he failed to attain the goal, he felt it would be all over with him, for they were not the men to show any mercy.

  Darting among the palm-trees, therefore, he strained every nerve to draw away from his enemies, while they strove, with equal desperation, to overtake him.

  It was a straight run, and comparatively an unobstructed one, for the palm-trees were far enough apart to give him a pretty fair course, which was of equal advantage to all parties. Perhaps it is possible, therefore, to imagine the anxiety with which, after running a short distance, Captain Bergen glanced over his shoulder to see how his pursuers were making out. But it is not possible to appreciate his consternation when he saw that two of them were outrunning him, and, as he had striven to his very utmost, the frightful truth was manifest that he was sure to be overtaken before he could reach the Coral.

  Those who were gaining upon him were Pomp, the negro, and Brazzier himself. But the fact that they were gaining upon him was no cause for the fugitive falling down and yielding without a struggle. He still had his sheath-knife, whi
ch he grasped with a despairing feeling as he realized, during those awful seconds, that complete, disastrous failure, instead of the brilliant success he had counted upon, had overtaken him at last.

  The pursuers gained rapidly, and not one-half the distance was passed, when all three of the men were almost within striking distance, for Redvignez was at the elbow of his companions. Captain Bergen looked over his shoulder, and was about to throw his back against a palm-tree, with the view of turning at bay and fighting to the last, when, like the historical John Smith of our own earlier times, his lack of attention to his feet precipitated the very fate against which he was struggling. His feet struck some obstruction, and being exhausted from his extraordinary exertion, he pitched forward and fell on his face. As he went down he was conscious of hearing two widely different sounds—one the exultant cries of the pursuers, and the other the terrified scream of a little girl.

  Captain Bergen attempted to rise, but Redvignez and Brazzier were upon him, and the knife of the latter was upraised with the purpose of ending the matter then and there forever, when the cry of the child was heard the second time, and little Inez sprang, like Pocahontas, between the uplifted arm and the intended victim.

  “Oh, don’t hurt him! Please don’t hurt him! Please, please don’t hurt him, ’cause I love him!” pleaded the agonized child, with all the earnestness of her nature.

  The position of the prostrate captain attempting to rise, and the little one interceding for him, was such that the mutineer hesitated for the moment, for he could not strike without endangering her life. Seeing this, with the wonderful quickness which sometimes comes over the youngest child in such a crisis, Inez persistently forced her body with amazing quickness in the way of the poised knife as it started to descend more than once—the other two holding back for their leader to finish the work.

  Brazzier was a man of tigerish temper, and he became infuriated in a few seconds at this repeated baffling of his purpose.