CHAPTER VII
THE FIGHT FOR THE GOLD
"Silence!" whispered Antonio, who divined Simon's feeling of revolt.
"Why?" asked Simon. "They can't hear."
"They can. Most of the panes are missing."
Simon continued, in the same low tone:
"But where's Miss Bakefield?"
"This morning I saw her, from here, on that other chair, bound likeher father."
"And now?"
"I don't know. But I suppose Rolleston has taken her into his cabin."
"Where's that?"
"He's occupying three or four, those over there."
"Oh," gasped Simon, "it's horrible! And there's no other way out?"
"None."
"Still, we can't. . . ."
"The least sound would be Miss Bakefield's undoing," Antonio declared.
"But why?"
"I am sure of it. . . . All this is thought out. . . . That threat ofdeath to her father; it's blackmail. Besides. . . ."
One of the women moved to a cabin door, listened and returned,sniggering:
"The chit's defending herself. The chief will have to employ strongmeasures. You're resolved to go through with it, are you?"
"Of course!" said the other, nodding in the direction of her hand."Twenty quid extra for each of us: it's worth it! On the word ofcommand, pop! And there you are!"
The old man's face remained impassive. His eyes were closed; heappeared to be asleep. Simon was distracted:
"Did you hear? Isabel and Rolleston: she's struggling with him. . . ."
"Miss Bakefield will hold out. The sentence of death has not beenissued," said Antonio.
One of the men keeping watch at the entrance to the gangway now camealong on his rounds, walking slowly and listening. Antonio recognizedhim:
"He's one of the original accomplices. Rolleston had all his Hastingsstalwarts with him."
The man shook his head:
"Rolleston is wrong. A leader doesn't concern himself like that withtrifles."
"He's in love with the girl."
"A funny way of being in love! . . . He has been persecuting her nowfor four days."
"Why does she refuse him? To begin with she's his wife. She said yesjust now."
"She said yes because, ever since this morning, some one has beensqueezing dear papa's throat."
"Well, she'll say yes presently so that it shan't be squeezed a littletighter."
The man bent down:
"How's the old chap doing?"
"Impossible to say!" growled the woman, who held the cord. "He toldhis daughter not to give in, said that he'd rather die. Since then,you'd think he's sleeping. It's two days since he had anything toeat."
"All this sort of thing," retorted the sentry, moving off, "isn'tbusiness. Rolleston ought to be on deck. Suppose something happened,suppose we were to be attacked, suppose the enclosure was invaded!"
"In that case, I've got orders to finish the old man off."
"That wouldn't make us come out on top."
A short time elapsed. The two women talked in very low tones. Atmoments Simon seemed to hear raised voices from the cabin:
"Listen," he said. "That's Rolleston, isn't it?"
"Yes," said the Indian.
"We must do something, we must do something," said Simon.
The door of the cabin was flung open violently. Rolleston appeared. Heshouted angrily to the women:
"Are you ready? Count three minutes. In three minutes strangle him,"and, turning round, "You understand, Isabel? Three minutes. Make upyour mind, my girl."
He slammed the door behind him.
Quick as thought, Simon had seized Antonio's rifle, but, hampered bythe bars, he was unable to take aim before the villain had closed thedoor.
"You will spoil everything!" said Antonio, crawling from under thetarpaulin and wresting the rifle from him.
Simon, in turn, stood up, with distorted features:
"Three minutes! Oh, poor girl, poor girl!"
Antonio tried to restrain him:
"Let's think of something. There must be a porthole in the cabin."
"Too late. She will have killed herself by then. We must act at once."
He reflected for a moment, then suddenly began to run along the deckand, reaching the hatch of the companion-way, jumped to the bottom.The gangway began with a wider landing where the sentry sat playingcards and drinking.
They rose. One of them commanded:
"Halt! No passage here!"
"All hands on deck! Every man to his post," shouted Simon, repeatingRolleston's words. "At the double! And no quarter! The gold! The rainof gold has started again!"
The men leapt to their feet and made off up the companion. Simondarted down the gangway, ran into one of the two women, whom hisshouts had attracted, and flung the same words at her:
"The gold! The rain of gold! Where's the chief?"
"In his cabin," she replied. "Tell him!"
And she made off in her turn.
The other woman, who held the cord, hesitated. Simon felled her with ablow on the point of the chin. Then, without troubling about LordBakefield, he rushed to the cabin. At that moment, Rolleston openedthe door, shouting:
"What's up? The gold?"
Simon laid hold of the door to prevent his closing it and saw Isabel,at the back of the cabin, alive.
"Who are you?" asked the villain, uneasily.
"Simon Dubosc."
There was a pause, a respite before the struggle which Simon believedinevitable. But Rolleston fell back, with haggard eyes:
"M. Dubosc? . . . M. Dubosc? . . . The one who was killed just now?"
"The same," said a voice in the gangway. "And it was I who killed him,I, Antonio, the friend of Badiarinos whom you murdered."
"Ah!" groaned Rolleston, collapsing. "I'm done for!"
He was paralysed by his drunkenness, by his state of stupor and evenmore obviously by his natural cowardice. Without offering the leastresistance, he allowed himself to be knocked down and disarmed byAntonio, while Simon and Isabel rushed into each other's arms.
"My father?" murmured the girl.
"He's alive. Don't be afraid."
Together they went to release him. The old lord was at the end of hisforces. It was all that he could do to kiss his daughter and pressSimon's hand. Isabel too was on the verge of swooning; shaken with anervous tremor, she fell into Simon's arms, faltering:
"Oh, Simon, you were just in time. I should have killed myself! . . .Oh, what degradation! . . . How shall I ever forget?"
Great as was her distress, she had nevertheless the strength to checkAntonio's hand when he raised it to stab Rolleston:
"No, please don't. . . . Simon, you agree, don't you. We haven't theright. . . ."
Antonio protested:
"You're wrong, Miss. A monster like that has to be got rid of."
"Please! . . ."
"As you will. But I shall get him again. We have an account to settle,he and I. M. Dubosc, lend me a hand to tie him up!"
The Indian lost no time. Knowing the ruse which Simon had employed toremove the guards, he expected them to return at any moment, no doubtescorted by their comrades. He therefore shoved Rolleston to the otherend of the corridor and bundled him into a dark cupboard.
"Like that," he said, "his accomplices won't find their chief and willlook for him outside."
He also bound and locked up the big woman, who was beginning torecover from her torpor. Then, despite the exhausted condition of LordBakefield and his daughter, he led them to the companion.
Simon had to carry Isabel. When he reached the deck of the _Ville deDunkerque_, he was astounded to hear the rattling sounds and to seethe great sheaf of pebbles and water spurting towards the sky. By alucky coincidence, the phenomenon had occurred just as he announced itand caused an excitement by which he had time to profit. Isabel andLord Bakefield were laid under the tarpaulin, that part of the wreckbeing deserted. Then Antonio and Sim
on went to the companion in questof news. A band of ruffians came pouring down it, shouting:
"The chief! Where's Rolleston?"
Several of them questioned Antonio, who pretended to be equally at aloss:
"Rolleston? I've been hunting for him everywhere. I expect he's at thebarricades."
The ruffians streamed back again, scampering up on deck. At the footof the platform they held a conference, after which some ran towardsthe enclosing fence, while others, following Rolleston's example,shouted:
"Every man to his post! No quarter! Shoot, can't you, down there?"
"What's happening?" whispered Simon.
"They're wavering," said Antonio, "and giving way. Look beyond theenclosure. The crowd is attacking at several points."
"But they're firing on it."
"Yes, but in disorder, at random. Rolleston's absence is alreadymaking itself felt. He was a leader, he was. You should have seen himorganize his two or three hundred recruits in a few hours and placeeach man where he was best suited! He didn't only rule by terror."
The eruption did not last long and Simon had an impression that therain of gold was less abundant. But it exercised no less attractionupon those whose work it was to collect it and upon others who, nolonger encouraged by their leader's voice, were abandoning thebarricades.
"Look," said Antonio. "The attacks are becoming fiercer. The enemyfeels that the besieged are losing hold."
The slope was invaded from every side; and small bodies of men pushedforward, more numerous and bolder as the firing became less intense.The machine-gun, whether abandoned or destroyed, was no longer inaction. The chief's accomplices, who had stood in front of theplatform, finding themselves unable to enforce their authority andrestore discipline, leapt into the arena and ran to the trenches. Theywere the most resolute of the defenders. The assailants hesitated.
So, for two hours, fortunes of the fight swayed to and fro. When nightfell, the battle was still undecided.
Simon and Antonio, seeing the wreck deserted, collected the necessaryarms and provisions. They intended to prepare for flight at midnight,if circumstances permitted. Antonio went off to reconnoitre, whileSimon watched over the repose of his two patients.
Lord Bakefield, although fit to travel, was still badly pulled downand slept, though his sleep was disturbed by nightmares. But Simon'spresence restored to Isabel all her energy, all her vitality. Sittingside by side, holding each other's hands, they told the story of thosetragic days; and Isabel spoke of all that she had suffered, ofRolleston's cruelty, of his coarse attentions to her, of the constantthreat of death which he held over Lord Bakefield if she refused toyield, of the nightly orgies in camp, the bloodshed, the tortures, thecries of the dying and the laughter of Rolleston's companions. . . .
She shuddered at certain recollections, nestling against Simon asthough she feared to find herself once more alone. All around them wasthe flash of fire-arms and the rattle of shots which seemed to becoming nearer. A din at once confused and terrific, made up of ahundred separate combats, death-struggles and victories, hovered abovethe dark plain, over which, however, a pale light appeared to bespreading.
Antonio returned in an hour's time and declared that flight wasimpossible:
"Half the trenches," he said, "are in the hands of the assailants, whohave even penetrated into the enclosure. And they won't let any onepass, any more than the besieged will."
"Why?"
"They're afraid of gold being taken away. It seems that there's a sortof discipline among them and that they're obeying leaders whose objectis to capture from the besieged the enormous booty which they haveaccumulated. And, as the assailants are ten or even twenty to one, wemust expect a wholesale massacre!"
The night was full of tumult. Simon observed that the dense layer ofclouds was breaking up in places and that gleams of light were fallingfrom the starry sky. They could see figures darting across the arena.Two men first, then a number of others boarded the _Ville deDunkerque_ and went down the nearest companion way.
"Rolleston's accomplices returning," murmured Antonio.
"What for? Are they looking for Rolleston?"
"No, they think he's dead. But there are the bags, the bags filledwith coin, and they are all going to fill their pockets."
"The gold is there, then?"
"In the cabins. Rolleston's share on one side; his accomplices on theother."
Below deck quarrels were beginning, followed almost immediately by ageneral affray, which was punctuated by yells and moans. One by onethe victors emerged from the companion way. But shadows crept down itall night long; and the newcomers were heard searching and destroying.
"They'll find Rolleston in the end," said Simon.
"I don't care if they do," said Antonio, with a grin which Simon wasto remember thereafter.
The Indian was getting together their arms and ammunition. A littlebefore daybreak, he awoke Lord Bakefield and his daughter and gavethem rifles and revolvers. The final assault would not be longdelayed; and he calculated that the _Ville de Dunkerque_ would be theimmediate objective of the assailants and that it would be better notto linger there.
The little party therefore set out when the first pale gleams of dawnshowed in the sky. They had not set foot on the sand of the arenabefore the signal for the attack was given by a powerful voice whichsounded from the bulk of the submarine; and it so happened that, atthe very moment when the final offensive was launched, when thebesieged, better armed than the attackers, were taking measures ofdefense which were also better organized, the roar of the eruptionrent the air with its thousand explosions.
Then and there, the enemy's onslaught became more furious, and thebesieged began to retreat, as Simon and Antonio perceived from thedisorderly rush of men falling back like trapped animals, seekingcover behind which to defend themselves or hide.
In the middle of the arena, the scorching rain and the showers offalling pebbles created a circular empty space; nevertheless, some ofthe more desperate assailants were bold enough to venture into it andSimon had a fleeting vision in which he seemed to see--but was itpossible?--Old Sandstone running this way and that under a strangeumbrella made of a round sheet of metal with the edge turned down.
The mob of invaders was growing denser. They collided with groups ofmen and women, brandishing sticks, old swords, scythes, hill-hooks andaxes, who fell upon the fugitives. Simon and Antonio were twiceobliged to take part in the fighting.
"The position is serious," said Simon, taking Isabel aside. "We mustrisk all for all and try to find a way through. Kiss me, Isabel, asyou did on the day of the shipwreck."
She gave him her lips, saying:
"I have absolute faith in you, Simon."
After many efforts and two brushes with some ruffians who tried tostop them, they reached the line of the barricades and crossed itwithout hindrance. But in the open space outside they met fresh wavesof marauders breaking furiously against the defences, includingparties of men who seemed to be running away, rather than pursuing aquarry. It was as though they themselves were threatened by some greatdanger. Fierce and murderous for all that, they plundered the dead andwildly attacked the living.
"Look out!" cried Simon.
It was a band of thirty or forty street-boys and hooligans, among whomhe recognized two of the tramps who had pursued him. At sight ofSimon, they egged on the gang under their command. By some ill chanceAntonio slipped and fell. Lord Bakefield was knocked down. Simon andIsabel, caught in an eddy, felt that they were being stifled by amass of bodies whirling about them. Simon, however, succeeded inseizing hold of her and levelling his revolver. He fired three timesin succession. Isabel did likewise. Two men dropped. There was amoment's hesitation; then a new onslaught separated the lovers.
"Simon, Simon!" cried the terrified girl.
One of the tramps roared:
"The girl! Carry her off! She'll fetch her weight in gold!"
Simon tried to reach her. Twenty hands opposed his despe
rate efforts;and, while defending himself, he saw Isabel pushed towards thebarricades by the two tramps. She stumbled and fell. They were tryingto raise her when suddenly two shots rang out and both fell headlong.
"Simon! Antonio!" cried a voice.
Through the fray Simon saw Dolores, sitting erect on a horse allcovered with foam. Her rifle was levelled and she was firing. Three ofthe nearest aggressors were struck. Simon contrived to break away, runto Isabel and join Dolores, to whom Antonio at the same time wasbringing Lord Bakefield.
Thus the four were together again, but each was followed by therabble of persistent marauders, and these were reinforced by dozens ofothers, who loomed out of the fog and doubtless imagined that thestake in such a battle, in which the number of their opponents was sosmall, must be the capture of some treasure.
"There are more than a hundred of them," said Antonio. "We are donefor."
"Saved!" cried Dolores, who now ceased firing.
"Why?"
"Yes, we must hold out . . . one minute. . . ."
Dolores' reply was drowned in the uproar. Their assailants came alongwith a rush. With their backs against the horse, the little partyfaced in all directions, firing, wounding, killing. With his left handSimon discharged his revolver, while with his right hand, whichgripped his rifle by the barrel, whirling it to terrible effect, heheld the enemy at a distance.
But how could they resist the torrent, continually renewed, thatrushed upon them. They were submerged. Old Lord Bakefield was strucksenseless with a stick; and one of Antonio's arms was paralysed by ablow from a stone. Any further resistance was out of the question. Thehideous moment had come when people fall, when their flesh istrampled underfoot and torn asunder by the enemy's claws.
"Isabel!" murmured Simon, crushing her passionately in his arms.
They dropped to their knees together. The beasts of prey fell uponthem, covering them with darkness.
A bugle sounded some distance away, scattering its lively notes uponthe air. Another call rang out in reply. It was a French buglesounding the charge.
A great silence, heavy with fear, petrified the hoardes of pillagers.Simon, who was losing consciousness, felt that the weight above himwas lightened. Some of the beasts of prey were taking flight.
He half-raised himself, while supporting Isabel, and the first thingthat struck him was Antonio's attitude. The Indian, with drawn face,was gazing at Dolores. Slowly and steadily he took a few steps towardsher, like a cat creeping up to its prey, and suddenly, before Simoncould intervene, he leapt on the crupper behind her, passed his armsunder hers and dug his heels into the horse, which broke into agallop along the barricades, towards the north.
From the opposite direction, through the mist, appeared the sky-blueuniforms of France.
The Tremendous Event Page 15
