Cursed Be the Treasure 26 – Drake · Library Across
Literature · Crime, Thrillers & Mystery
Cursed Be the Treasure 26Part III · A Story Under the Stars
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Literature · Crime, Thrillers & Mystery
Cursed Be the Treasure 26
Part III · A Story Under the Stars
DrakeEnglish
At first I thought I was merely the victim of some common cutthroats who were after my money. It wasn't a pleasing thought. I felt indignant rather than afraid; for after the adventures I had passed through it seemed too stupid to die at the hands of vulgar robbers. And something of my old outcry against fate rose to my heart.
However, I was soon undeceived. When we had rowed out some way my captors dropped anchor, and the boat lay idly rising and falling on the gentle heave of the waters. For some minutes there was a whispered consultation between the two men, while I had leisure mazedly to admire the dancing brilliance of the stars high up in the black pool of the sky; and then with reviving clearness of mind as the effects of the blow passed off, leaving only a throbbing pain at my head, I turned my eyes to the men and took stock of the couple. One was a little fellow; the other though not large was bigger than his companion. They both wore masks, and in the darkness of the night it was impossible to distinguish anything of their features. I thought too they could distinguish little of mine, for the gag over my mouth reached below my chin and almost up to my eyes, just allowing me to see.
Presently the larger of the two reached forward to me, and seizing my right hand forced it open; then holding it to the light of a little lantern that stood in the bottom of the boat he beckoned to the other fellow and pointed to my palm.
It was then that I realized that this was no mere robbery. For it was the two ragged scars of the jetty nails that they were so carefully examining. The little fellow nodded. They trussed me up again with my hands behind me, and slipped back to their places, sitting side by side on a thwart facing me. For a while there was silence.
I felt quite easy in mind now, for I knew I had been captured by mistake. Somehow I had been arrested for my father's murderer. I thought that the worst that could come of it would be a waste of time; for sooner or later they were bound to find out who I really was. I made one desperate struggle to force a cry through my gag, and I strained violently at my bonds; but it was unavailing. I knew I should have to wait till the gag was removed, and then I could rectify the error. Meanwhile I sat quietly, trying to possess my soul in patience.
The bigger man leant forward, and seemed by his attitude to be steadily gazing at me through his mask. Something in the way in which he turned his face to me, though I could only see the lower half of it, sent my mind back to the old beggar-woman who had tried to tell my fortune at the tavern porch. Then the man began to speak. And though now he spoke in a clear and precise English, whereas the old woman had gabbled in a sort of nasal Italian, yet there was something in the pitch and intonation of the voice which confirmed my surmise. This was none other than the old beggar-woman herself. Now, of course, it was clear how the mistake had arisen, especially as the porch had only been dimly lit by the swinging lamp, and my face was tanned out of recognition by the southern sun. But it still seemed a strange coincidence that I should have stumbled right into the trap that had evidently been laid for another.
"I am going to tell you a story," he said.
I didn't think he would be able to tell me anything I didn't already know; but there was nothing for it but to sit still and listen, though I wished mightily he would ungag me and let me reveal my identity; for it was clear that all this while the real murderer was gaining precious time.
But the next words sent my mind spinning in a vortex of alarming doubt.
"There were three brothers," the clear voice continued. "The eldest we will call"--he repeated with emphasis--"we will call--Captain Field."
There was a pause; I supposed for the significance of the words to sink into my mind.
"You see," continued the man, "I intend to convince you that I know the meaning of those marks upon your hand, and that if you still have any love for your own skin you will put yourself at my service. And remember, though walls have ears, the waves have none. We are as private here as in the grave. However, the story will speak for itself. We will begin with Captain Field."
I was all attention, straining to sift his words and catch the underlying significance of it all.
He went on: "There is a certain haunted house on the northern moors that you and I know well. It was there that the Captain," he stressed the title with a slight sneer, "first discovered the manuscript which told of the winning and burying of the accursed treasure. That part of the story I needn't relate. For proof that I know it, if that is of any consequence, here is the document itself."
He held out his hand to the little fellow beside him who brought the document out from under his cloak and gave it to him. He laid it out before me, slowly turning the pages so that I might satisfy myself that it was the genuine thing. As I stretched at my bonds to gaze at it I knew that the horrible doubt that had seized me at the mention of the Captain's name was the very truth: it was my father's murderer who had stolen the manuscript that lay before me, and it must be my father's murderer who now sat facing me telling me this story. So I hadn't been captured by mistake. Rather the sign that was to have betrayed my enemy had betrayed me instead. I wondered what the condition would be which was to save me from these men. I listened with all my attention, hoping I might discover some missing link in the narrative which would give me the advantage of them; for I surmised there must be something they wanted to know which only I could tell. If I were clever enough to find the weak point in their information I might foil them yet.
The man continued: "You are satisfied, I presume, that this is the real article. How it has come into my hands you needn't seek to enquire." I thought I knew that well enough without pondering the matter. "I say the Captain found this at the haunted house. Where he found it you probably know. In a certain dark passage of which you are well aware there is a skeleton chained to a niche in the wall. How it came there is interesting enough in its way, but here the tale would be irrelevant. But when the Captain bought the house many years ago, bought it, you understand, though it seems he prefers to play the rôle of tenant rather than owner"--that was information to me, and I busily meditated it while still alertly listening--"when the Captain bought the house and accidentally discovered the passage I have mentioned, he found the document here hung about the neck of the unfortunate man whose bones only remained to tell of the agonies he had suffered. The Captain was interested in the document. But, when he first read it and learnt of the treasure which seemed to have borne such evil fruit as it were before his very eyes, his first thought was to destroy the thing. Why his intention altered we needn't enquire. Suffice it to say he took counsel with his two younger brothers, and they decided to search for the buried gold."
He took breath, and resumed: "A ship was purchased, a crew enrolled, and the search began. It was successful. Then what happened we needn't follow in detail. It may be that the treasure was really accursed. Of the band of twenty who looked upon it and handled it, actually winning for themselves a fortune to satisfy the avarice of the most grasping, only three survived. One was the Captain, one his servant, a boy of seventeen at the time; a foreign boy who loved the Captain as his own father, and would have shed his last drop of blood, as the saying is, to serve him." Here the man's voice became unusually impressive as though wishing to drive his point home. As for me, I knew he was speaking of Abou. "And the third was the Captain's youngest brother."
He paused and added, "His favourite brother," and continued, "Whether there had been a quarrel or not we won't seek to enquire. It is enough to say that the brother escaped with a fatal wound in the neck, but carrying with him this manuscript." He tapped it with his finger. "He had been stabbed; and as I say the wound was fatal. But before he died he succeeded in swimming to land and hiding in a cave, where he was found by a young lad who tried to staunch his wound, and would have taken him to shelter. But he died where he lay, having first given the document to the boy, telling him to preserve it as he valued riches and happiness.
"What happened to the dead man doesn't concern us. The boy took the document and learnt its secret. He became a man, and in his turn made search for the gold. His name, we will say, was Playden--Walter Noel Playden, to be exact."
Here there was a pause while the eyes of both men seemed fixed on me in keen scrutiny. For my part I had already summed up the situation and could have finished the story for them. I had been watching the smaller of the two, though listening to the other; for there seemed to me something familiar in the curl of his lips. I tried to connect them in my mind with the memories I had of the face of my father's murderer, but wasn't altogether successful. Yet I thought the resemblance was strong enough, seeing I had never had a clear view of the fellow. I had only seen him by the leaping firelight, again in the dim glimmer of the moon, and lastly with my senses failing when he had struck me by the jetty. And now there were only the stars, the lights from the town across the water, and the lantern in the boat, to discover him to me; and even so only the lower part of his face was visible.
The thought in my mind was that this was Bite-in-the-Dark, and the larger man who seemed to have the matter in hand was Shadow-of-Fear himself.
He resumed in a lower and more impressive voice:
"So you see there were only two who knew the secret; for we needn't count the servant. He was merely a part of his master's will. And then"--again he paused--"Playden was killed. He was stabbed in the neck." He seemed to intend me to understand something particular by this. "And the manuscript vanished. Here it is."
The conclusion was obvious. He might have said, "Here is the murderer."
Again there was silence for a while, as they fixed me with their eyes from behind their masks. Then I began to be aware of something happening behind me. For a little time now there had been a sort of gentle tugging at my bonds, but I had hardly noticed it as my mind had been given to the story. But now in the space of silence I grew keenly conscious of it. There was something furtive in the twitching of the cords at my wrists, very much as though a rat were gnawing at them. Indeed for half a minute I wondered whether Providence were coming to my aid, for I had heard of prisoners being miraculously freed in such a way. But the hope was too wild to be credited.
Then the man before me began to speak again, and my mind was torn between his words, which I knew I must follow with all my wits, and the silent movements behind me which I couldn't understand, but which vaguely alarmed me by their secrecy and stealth.
"But the manuscript, as you know, is now only half a key. It is old and torn, and there is a vital portion missing." He turned to the map and pointed to the spot which had puzzled my father. "Even Playden never unravelled the mystery though he searched for twenty years."
At that moment I felt a hand touch mine. It was immediately withdrawn. The hand was cold, and the touch had been but a fractional pressure; but it was enough. I knew there was somebody there behind me; in the water it must be, for I was in the very stern of the boat. A horrible fear caught at my heart. It was bad enough to be held in captivity with my father's enemy in the lantern-light there before me; but this subtle, unseen creature, feeling up at me out of the dark water, was a thing to shake my nerve with a sense of inscrutable forces at work to undermine me unawares. I could scarcely concentrate my attention on the vital business in hand. But I must listen perforce, though with half my mind alert for the movements of that unknown presence at my back.
The voice was speaking again: "You will either supply me with the missing clue, or"--he spoke with an ominous emphasis--"you will pay the penalty which the sign on your hand warrants."
Still there was a stealthy jogging at my wrists. Casting desperately in my mind for what it could mean, and half afraid every moment to feel a knife in my back, I yet had a thought to give to the words of my captor. It all seemed clear to me now. Worthing had been right in his surmise, though he hadn't suspected the connection between my father's fate and the persecution of the Captain. It was a common enemy, I knew now, who being himself on the scent of the treasure knew that he needed both the manuscript which my father had possessed and the clue which only the Captain could supply, as he had already threaded the maze and stolen a share of the gold. But I was still in the dark as to how I could serve the fellow's turn.
He resumed: "You have the choice. Behind you lies the shore and freedom; before you a sea-voyage and the forfeit at the end of it. I will give you two minutes to decide. I shall then ungag you and you will tell me the secret of the entrance. If you refuse you will be your own executioner."
He took out a heavy watch, and repeated, "I give you two minutes."
I was in an agony. Clearly he thought I knew the secret because I had lived with the Captain. He seemed to know I had once penetrated to the secret chamber; probably he presumed I had then learnt the answer to the riddle. My mind was in a maze. All I could see clearly was that I was in danger of sharing the fate of that wretched skeleton if I failed to satisfy the demands of these men. The forfeit.... I shuddered, remembering my alarming experience in the passage. How was I to convince this man that I was as ignorant as himself?
Then I held my breath in sudden excitement, for I felt the cord at my right wrist slip loose. I moved my hand gently, and knew that it was free. The mystery of that strange presence in the water behind me was instantly clear. It was a friend. I didn't stop to think who, nor how he had found me. But some one had been cutting at my bonds, and now I was free. At least my knife hand was free. Instinctively I looked to my belt to see if my weapons had been taken from me. They lay, the knife and the pistol, by the lantern in the bottom of the boat.
"One minute!" said the man.
I remembered I still had my stiletto hidden at my breast. Perhaps I could draw it before they knew what I was at, and take them by surprise. That would be easier than stooping for my knife and risking a blow at my bent neck. I tightened my muscles for a quick grab at the weapon, and looked across at my two enemies. For some reason I knew I would strike the smaller man first. He was the one who had had the actual killing of my father. I saw the spot on his neck where I would stab. I could almost see the throb of the artery where I meant to strike.
"Half a minute!" said the man.
Then I felt something hard pushed into my hand. It was the haft of a knife. I knew then it was Dirk who had come to my rescue.
"Time!"
I hurled myself forward at my father's murderer, and plunged my blade deep into his throat. He sank limply with a choking gasp, and I fell on top of him snarling through my gag in an uncontrollable access of hate and fury. At the same moment there was a splash and a cry, and a huge figure leapt out of the water and dealt with the other man. I saw him as he knelt above his victim draw a knife from his breast dripping dreadfully in the light of the lantern.
In a moment I was free of my bonds. I would have stripped the masks from the dead men, and looked on the faces of these enemies of mine who had already tracked my father to his death, and had so nearly sent me to follow him. But Dirk grasped me and pulled me away. "Back," he said in a low harsh voice, "we must swim for it." And he was in the water.
I stopped to slip my weapons back into my belt, and stuff the manuscript in my breast; and was over the side and in the sea, striking out in the wake of Dirk for the lights of the brig Revenge.
