The Watchers: A Novel

by A. E. W. Mason

  CHAPTER XII

  I FIND AN UNEXPECTED FRIEND

  Glen bade Roper take the handkerchief from my mouth, and when that wasdone his creased face smiled at me over the lantern.

  "About the _Royal Fortune?_" he said smoothly.

  Peter Tortue nodded, and absently cleaned the blade of his knife uponthe thighs of his breeches. There was no reply for me to make, and Iwaited.

  "You were over to St. Mary's to-day?"

  "Yes."

  "What did you do there?"

  "I bought a pair of silk stockings and some linen."

  George Glen sniggered like a man that leaves off a seriousconversation to laugh politely at a bad joke.

  "But it's true," I cried.

  "Did you speak of the _Royal Fortune?_"

  "No," and, as luck would have it, I had not--not even to the Rev. Mr.Milray.

  "Not to a living soul?"

  "No."

  "Did you go up to Star Castle?"

  "No."

  "Did you speak to Captain Hathaway?"

  "No."

  "'There's poor old George,' you said. 'Old George Glen,' says you,'what was quartermaster with Cap'n Roberts on the _Royal_----'"

  "No," I cried.

  "Did you mention Peter Tortue?" said the Frenchman.

  "No. Would you be sitting here if I had? There would be a company ofsoldiers scouring the island for you."

  "That's reasonable," said Tortue, and the rest echoed his words. In alittle there was silence. Tortue set to work again with his knife. Itflashed backwards and forwards, red with the candle light as though itran blood. It shone in my eyes and dazzled me, and somehow, there cameback to me a recollection of that hot night in Clutterbuck's roomswhen everything had glittered with an intolerable brightness, and DickParmiter had been set upon the table to tell his story. I was vaguelywondering what they were all doing at this moment in London,Clutterbuck, Macfarlane, and the rest, when the questions began again.

  "You came back from St. Mary's to New Grimsby?"

  "Yes."

  "Did you tell Parmiter?"

  "No."

  "From St. Mary's you crossed the island to Merchant's Point?"

  "Yes."

  "Did you tell the girl?"

  Here a lie was obviously needful, and I did not scruple to tell it.

  "No."

  Peter Tortue leaned forward to me with a shrewd glance in his keeneyes.

  "You are her lover," he said. "You told her."

  I lifted my eyes from his knife, looked him in the eyes, and sustainedhis glance.

  "I am not her lover," I said; "that is a damned lie."

  He did not lose his temper, but repeated:

  "You told her," and George Glen looked in again with his whole facescrewed into a wink.

  "You said to her, 'My dear,' says you, 'there's old George,'" and atthat I lost my temper.

  "I said nothing of the kind," I cried. "Am I a parrot that I cannotopen my lips without old George popping out of them? But what's theuse of talking. Do what you will, I have done. If I had betrayed yoursecret, do you think I should be walking home alone, and you upon theisland? But I have done. I had a bargain to strike with you, I thoughtto find you all at the inn--but I have done."

  To tell the truth, I had no longer any hope of life. Glen, for all hiswinks and smiles, would stop short of no cruelty. Peter Tortue quietlypolished his knife upon his thigh. He was a big Brittany man, withshrewd eyes and an unchanging face. The rest squatted and staredcuriously at me. The light of the lantern fell upon their callousfaces, they were lookers-on at a show, of which perhaps, they had seenthe like before, they were not concerned in this affair of the _RoyalFortune_ nor how it ended.

  "So you told no one."

  "No one."

  I closed my eyes and leaned back against the partition. I was utterlyhelpless in their hands, and I hoped they would be quick. I rememberthat I regretted very much I could send no word to the girl atMerchant's Rock, and that I was very glad she had not delayed hermusic till tomorrow night, but both regret and gladness were of anumbed and languid kind.

  Then Glen asked me another question, and it spurred my will toalertness.

  "How did you know that I was quartermaster on the _Royal Fortune?_"

  I could not remind him that he had let the ship's name drop from hislips four years ago. It would be as much as to say that Helen had toldme. It would confess that I had spoken with her of the _RoyalFortune_. Yet I must answer, and without the least show of hesitation.I caught at the first plausible reason which occurred to me. I said:"Cullen Mayle told me," and that answer saved my life. For Glenremarked, "Yes, he knew," and nodded to Tortue: Tortue lifted theknife in his hand, and again I closed my eyes. But the next thing Iheard was a snap as the blade shut into the handle, and the next thingafter that Tortue's voice deliberately speaking:

  "George Glen, you never had the brains of a louse. You can smirk andwriggle, and you're handy with a weapon, but, you never had nobrains."

  I opened my eyes pretty wide at that, and I saw that the three youngerfaces were now kindled out of their sluggishness. It was that mentionof Cullen Mayle which had wrought the change. These three took noparticular interest in the _Royal Fortune_, but they had everyinterest in the doings of Cullen Mayle, and they now alertly followedall that Tortue said. George Glen leaned forward.

  "Who's cap'en here, Peter Tortue?" said he. "Was you with us on theSierra Leone River? Nat Roper there, Blads, you James Skyrm, speak up,lads, was he with us?"

  "My son was," said Tortue calmly.

  "And what sort of answer is that? 'Tis lucky for you Cap'en Robertsisn't aboard this shed. He wouldn't have understood that language, nothe--and he wouldn't have troubled you for an explanation neither.Here's a fine thing, lads! If a man dies, his father, what's beenlying in the lap of luxury at home, is to have his share. That's anice new rule for gentlemen adventurers, and not content with hisshare, wants to set up for cap'en. I have a good mind to learn youmodesty, Peter, just as Roberts would have learnt you."

  He was talking quite smoothly, with a grin all over his face, but Inever saw a man that looked so dangerous. Peter Tortue, however, wasin no way discomposed.

  "Why, you blundering fool," he answered, "where would you ha' been butfor me? No, I wasn't on the Sierra Leone River with you, or youwouldn't be eating your hearts and your pockets empty upon Tresco. No,I am not your captain, or you wouldn't never have lost track of CullenMayle at Wapping."

  There were four faces now alertly watching Peter Tortue, and thefourth was mine. It was not merely that my life hung upon hispredominance, but there was the best of chances now that I might getto the bottom of the mystery of their watching.

  "You talk of Roberts," he continued, "well you're not the only manthat knew Roberts, and would Roberts have let Cullen Mayle slipthrough his fingers--at Wapping too? Good Lord, it makes me sick tolook at you, George Glen!" and he turned to Roper, "Who was it foundthe track for you; was it him or me?" he cried. "Who was it found thenigger and sailed from the port o' London to Penzance, ay, and wouldha' found out the nigger's message if he hadn't had the sickness onhim. Was it him or was it me? Why the nigger knowed you all! Would heha' sailed to Penzance on that boat if he had seen a face on boardthat he had known? not he."

  "That's true," said Roper.

  "Who brought you all to Tresco, eh? Who hindered you from rushing thehouse, ay, hindered you in the face of your captain, and a deal you'ldha' found if you had rushed the house. A lot he knows, your captain.P'raps he thought Adam Mayle was the man to leave a polite note on hismantelshelf, telling us where to look. Who told you to wait for CullenMayle?"

  "We have waited," answered Glen. "How long are we to wait? Where isCullen Mayle?"

  Peter Tortue threw up his hands.

  "No wonder you all dry in the sun at the end of it," he cried, "myword! We haven't got Cullen Mayle, but haven't we got the man as knowshim? What's he doing at Tresc
o if he wasn't sent by Cullen Mayle whodaren't show his face because we're here? Not worth my share, ain't I?and you that can't add two and two! See here! Dick Parmiter goes toLondon, don't he? He goes after the nigger come; what for, but to findCullen Mayle, and say as we're here? He knows where Cullen's to befound, and down comes the stranger here. And we ha' got him tucked upcomfortable, and we know tricks that Roberts taught us to make himspeak, don't we? And you want to jab a knife into him. You make mesick, George Glen--fair sick! Suppose you do jab a knife into him, andbury him here under the stones, do you think the girl'll take it quiteeasy and natural? Or will you go down the hill and rush the house? Andthen if you please, what'll you all be doing to-morrow? Well, you arecaptain, George Glen, but what has your crew to say to this? Come! AmI to talk to Mr. Berkeley, or will you set your own course, and steerfor execution dock?"

  There was no hesitation in the answer. With one accord they leaned toTortue's proposal.

  I could not see that I was in a much better case. Tortue was to put tome questions, the very questions which I wished to ask, and I wasexpected to answer them. I should have to answer them if I was to comeoff with my life. The men sat hungrily about me awaiting my answers.It would not take them long to discover that I was tricking them, thatI had no knowledge whatever about their concerns beyond that onedangerous item that Glen and Tortue had sailed on the _Royal Fortune_,and when that discovery was made, why, out of mere resentment theywould let Glen have his way.

  However, I was still alive, and the girl was still at Merchant'sPoint. These men were plainly growing impatient of their long stayupon the island; and once I was out of the way, who was to standbetween them and the girl?

  I summoned my wits together, and ran quickly over my mind what I didknow. I had a few fresh hints from Tortue's arguments to add to myknowledge. I knew why they were watching for Cullen Mayle. He was toshow them where to look for something. It was that something aboutwhich Glen had talked to Adam Mayle the night Cullen was driven away;Cullen had overheard, and he had gone out in search of it to theSierra Leone River. Glen and his companions had done likewise. It wasin some degree apparent now what that something was: namely, treasureof some sort from the Royal Fortune, and buried on the banks of theSierra Leone River. They had not found it, and their presence here,and certain words, told me why. Adam Mayle had been first with them.

  So much I could venture to think of. For the rest I must wait upon thequestions; and, fortunately for me. Glen was a man of much garrulity.

  "You spoke of a bargain," said Tortue. "What do you propose?"

  "Halves!" said I, as bold as brass.

  There was an outcry against the proposal, and it mightily relieved me,for it proved to me I was right. It was treasure they were after, butof what kind? I had now to puzzle my brains over that. Was it specie?Hardly, I thought, for Adam Mayle would not have hidden money uponTresco. Was it a treasure of jewels, then?

  "Halves," said George Glen with a titter. "A very good proposal, Mr.Berkeley, by daylight, with a company of soldiers within call."

  Jewels, I thought: yes, jewels--jewels that might be recognized,jewels that Adam Mayle would keep hidden to himself so long as therewas no pressing need to dispose of them.

  "As it is," continued Glen, "we take all, but we give you your life.That's a fair offer."

  "Yes, that's fair," said Roper.

  I hazarded it.

  "Very well," said I. "You can find your jewels for yourselves."

  I expected an explosion of wrath; I met with only mute surprise.

  "Jewels!" said Roper at length.

  "Well, isn't the cross thick with them?" said Tortue to Roper.

  "It wouldn't be of much use to us without," sniggered Glen. "Lord, butthat was a clever stroke of Roberts'--the cleverest thing he everdone. Right under the guns of the African Comp'ny's fort she lay inSierra Leone harbour--a Portuguese ship of twenty guns. At a quarterto eleven there was her crew, as many as might be--we could hear 'emsinging and laughing as we pulled across the water to 'em--and at tenminutes past three there wasn't a mother's son of them all alive; andno noise, mind you. Rich she was, too. Sugar--we had run short ofsugar for our punch, and welcome it was--sugar, skins, tobacco, ninetythousand moidors, and this cross with the diamonds for the King ofPortugal. Roberts himself said he had never seen stones like it, andhe was a good judge of stones was Roberts. He was quick, too. Why,we had that cross on the dinghy and were well up the Sierra LeoneRiver before daybreak, just the three of us--Roberts, me, and AdamMayle--Kennedy he called himself then, being a gentleman born and withmore sense than the rest of us. He buried the cross, two days sail upthe Sierra Leone River, and Roberts made a chart of its bearings. Hegave it to me on the deck of the _Royal Fortune_ when he was mortallywounded, and I kept it all the time we were in prison. I showed it toAdam Mayle when we escaped, but we had no means to get at it--atleast, I hadn't. Adam, he was a gentleman born, and had got hissavings placed all safe in his own name."

  I hoped Glen would go on in this strain until my slip was forgotten. Iwas, besides, acquiring information. But Roper cut him short.

  "It was a cross--it wasn't jewels," said he, suspiciously; andsuddenly Tortue interrupted.

  "'Halves' was what you said, I think," he remarked, rather quickly,and I could almost have believed that he was trying to cover up mymistake. I took advantage of his interruption as quickly as he hadmade it.

  "Half for you, half for Cullen," said I; and immediately Tortue flungout in an extravagant passion. He threatened me, he threatened Cullen,he opened his knife and gesticulated, he cursed, until I began towonder: was he acting? Was this anger a pretence to divert attentionfinally from my unlucky guess? I could not be sure. I could conceiveno reason for such a pretence. But certainly, whether he intended itor not, he brought about that result; for his companions began to fearhe would make an end of me before they had got the information wherethe cross was hid, and so busied themselves with appeasing him. Hepermitted himself at the last to be appeased, and George Glen took upthe argument.

  "Look you here, Mr. Berkeley," said he, "we're reasonable men, andit's no more than fair you should be reasonable too, seeing as how youare uncomfortably placed. That was took up by Adam Mayle, and he nevermeant his son to finger it. 'A damned ungrateful, supercilious whelp,'says he to me in the lad's own bedroom; yes, in his own bedroom"--for,as may be imagined, I had started. Here was the explanation of howCullen discovered George Glen's business. I hoisted myself up againstthe partition as well as I could. How I prayed that Glen would go on!He was sufficiently garrulous, if only he was not interrupted, and hewas arguing for all of them. "'A damned ungrateful, superciliouswhelp,' he said; 'and George,' said he, as I read out the chart, 'I'dsooner let the cross rot to pieces in the Sierra Leone mud than fetchit home for him to have a share of. I've enough for myself and thegirl. I'll not stir a finger,' says he, 'and if it was here now I'dhave it buried with me.' Those were his very words, which he spoke tome not half an hour after he had driven Cullen from the house, and inthe lad's own bedroom, where we couldn't be overheard."

  "But you were overheard," said I, "Cullen Mayle overheard you." Glenjumped on to his feet, his mouth dropped, he stood staring at me in adaze, and then he thumped one fist down into the palm of the other.

  "By God it's true," he said, "he was in the curtains."

  "He was in bed," said I.

  "By God it's true," repeated Glen, and he sat down again on the floor."So that's how Cullen Mayle found out. I was mightily astonished tofind him at Sierra Leone on the same business as ourselves. But it'strue. I remember there was a noise, and I cried out, 'What's that?'with a sort of jump, and Adam he says, pleasant like, 'It's thehangman, George;' but it wasn't, it was Cullen Mayle."

  I think that every one laughed as Glen ended, except myself. I couldeven at that moment, but be sensible what a strange picture it made;those two old ruffians sitting over against each other in the bedroom,and Cullen waked up from his sleep in bed to lie quiet and ove
rhearthem.

  "So you see, it isn't reasonable Cullen should have half since hisfather never meant him to have any," he continued.

  "But without Cullen you would get nothing at all," said I.

  "Why not since we have you?"--and then I made a slip--I answered: "ButCullen Mayle told me where the cross is."

  "But Cullen Mayle doesn't know," said Roper, "else would he have gonehunting to Sierra Leone for it?"

  "Told him where to look for the plan, he means." Tortue interruptedagain. This time I could not mistake. He glanced at me with too muchsignificance. For some reason, he was standing my friend.

  "Of course," said I, "where to look for the plan."

  So it was a plan they needed, a plan of the spot where Adam Mayle hadburied the cross. Where could that plan be, in what unlikely placewould Adam have hid it?

  I ran over my mind the rooms, and the furniture of the house. Therewas no bureau, no secretaire. But I had to make up my mind. This lastslip had awakened my captor's suspicions. The faces about me menacedme.

  "Well, where is the plan?"

  I thought over all that Glen had said to-night--was a clue to be gotthere?

  "I haven't it," said I, to gain time.

  "But where are we to look for it?" again asked Roper, and he put hishand in his coat-pocket.

  "Speak up," said Tortue, and I read his meaning in the glance of hiseyes. He meant--"Name some spot, any spot!" But I knew! It had comeupon me like an inspiration, I had no shadow of doubt where that planwas. I said:

  "Where are you to look for the plan? Glen has told you. Adam Maylewould rather have had the cross buried with him than that Cullenshould have it. He couldn't have the treasure buried with him, but hecould and did the plan. Look in Adam Mayle's grave. You will find astick with a brass handle to it--a sword stick, but the sword's brokenoff short. In the hollow of that stick you'll find the plan." Tortuenodded at me with approval. The rest jumped up from the ground.

  "We have time to-night," said Roper, and stretching out a hand hepulled my watch from my fob. "It is eleven o'clock," and he put thewatch in his own pocket. "Where's Adam Mayle buried?" asked another.

  "In the Abbey Grounds," said I.

  "But we want spades," objected Tortue, "we want a pick."

  "They are here," said Glen, with an evil smile, "we had them ready,"and he grinned at me. "Mr. Berkeley comes with us, I think," said hesmoothly, "untie his legs."

  "Yes," said Roper with an oath. He was in a heat of excitement. "Andif he has told us wrong, good God, we'll bury him with Adam Mayle."

  But I had no doubt that I was right. I remembered what Clutterbuck hadtold me of Adam's vindictiveness. He would hide that plan if he could,and he could have chosen no surer place. No doubt he would havedestroyed that plan when he knew that he was dying, but he was struckdown with paralysis, and could not stir a finger. He could only orderthe stick to be buried with him.

  They unfastened my legs. Roper blew out the lantern, and we went outof the shed, on to the hillside. Glen despatched Blads upon someerrand, and the man hurried up the hill towards New Grimsby. Glenleisurely walked along the slope of the hill. I followed him, and therest behind me. The moon had gone down, and the night, though clearenough, was dark. We walked on for about five minutes, until some onetreading close upon my heels suddenly tripped me up. My hands werestill tied behind my back, so that I could not save myself from afall. But Tortue picked me up, and as he did so whispered in my ear:

  "Is the plan there?"

  I answered, "Yes."

  I would have staked my life upon it; in fact, I was staking my lifeupon it.