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Pieces of Eight, a novel by Richard Le Gallienne |
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Book 3 - Chapter 17 |
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_ BOOK III CHAPTER XVII Action.
At that moment, two other negroes emerged from the cabin hatchway, half dragging and half carrying a woman. She was struggling bravely, but in vain. The negroes--evidently acting under orders of a white man, who stood over them with a revolver--were dragging her toward the mainmast. Her head was bare, her hair in disorder, and one shoulder from which her dress had been torn in the struggle, gleamed white in the sunlight. Yet her eyes were flashing splendid scornful fires at her captors; and her laughter of defiance came ringing to me over the sea. It was then that I had cried "Calypso!" and wrenched myself free. The next moment there came dashing in sight a sloop also under full canvas, and at its bow, a huge white man, with a levelled rifle that still smoked. At a glance, I knew him for Charlie Webster. He had been about to fire again, but, as the man dragged Calypso for'ard, he paused, calm as a rock, waiting, with his keen sportsman's eyes on Tobias--for, of course, it was he. "You--coward!" I heard his voice roar across the rapidly diminishing distance between the two boats, for the sloop was running with power as well as sails. Meanwhile, the men had lashed Calypso to the mast, and even in my agony my eyes recorded the glory of her beauty as she stood proudly there--the great sails spread above her, and the sea for her background. "Now, do your worst," cried Tobias, his evil face white as wax in the sunlight. "Fire, fire--don't be afraid," rang out Calypso's voice, like singing gold. At the same instant, as she called, Tobias sprang toward her with raised revolver. "Another word, and I fire," shouted the voice of the brute. But the rifle that never missed its mark spoke again. Tobias's arm fell shattered, and he staggered away screaming. Still once more, Charlie Webster's gun spoke, and the staggering figure fell with a crash on the deck. "Now, boys, ready," I heard Charlie's voice roar out again, as the sloop tore alongside the schooner--where the rest of the negro crew with raised arms had fallen on their knees, crying for mercy. All this I saw from the water, as I swam wildly toward the two boats, which now had closed on each other, a mass of thundering canvas, and screaming and cursing men--and Calypso there, like a beautiful statue, still lashed to the mast, a proud smile on her lovely lips. Another moment, and Charlie had sprung aboard, and, seizing a knife from one of the screaming negroes, he cut her free. His deep calm voice came to me over the water. "That's what I call courage," he said. "I could never have done it." The "King" had been right. He knew his daughter. By this I was nearing the boats, though as yet no one had seen me. They were all too busy with the confusion on deck, where four men lay dead, and three others still kept up their gibberish of fear. I saw Calypso and Charlie Webster stand a moment looking down at the figure of Tobias, prostrate at their feet. "I am sorry I had to kill him," I heard Charlie's deep growl. "I meant to keep him for the hangman." But suddenly I saw him start forward and stamp heavily on something. "No, you don't," I heard him roar--and I learned afterward that Tobias, though mortally wounded, was not yet dead, and that, as the two had stood looking down on him, they had seen his hand furtively moving toward the fallen revolver that lay a few inches from him on the deck. Just as he had grasped it, Charlie's heavy boot had come down on his wrist. But Tobias was still game. "Not alive, you English brute!" he was heard to groan out, and, snatching free his wrist too swiftly to be prevented, he had gathered up all his remaining strength, and hurled himself over the side into the sea. I was but a dozen yards away from him, as he fell; and, as he rose again, it was for his dying eyes to fix with a glare upon me. They dilated with terror, as though he had seen a ghost. Then he gave one strange scream, and fell back into the sea, and we saw him no more. * * * * * It will be easier for the reader to imagine, than for me to describe, the look on the faces of Calypso and Charlie Webster when they saw me appear at almost the same spot where poor Tobias had just gone bubbling down. Words I had none, for I was at the end of my strength, and I broke down and sobbed like a child. "Thank God you are safe--my treasure, my treasure!" was all I could say, after they had lifted me aboard, and I lay face down on the deck, at her feet. Swiftly she knelt by my side, and caressed my shoulder with her dear hand. All of which--particularly my reference to "my treasure"--must have been much to the bewilderment of the good simple-hearted Charlie, towering, innocent-eyed, above us. I believe I stayed a little longer at her feet than I really had need to, for the comfort of her being so near and kind; but, presently, we were all aroused by a voice from the cliffs above. It was the "King," with his bodyguard, Erebus and the crew of the _Flamingo_--no Samson, alas! The sound of the firing had reached them in the woods, and they had come hurrying to discover its cause. So we deferred asking our questions, and telling our several stories, till we were pulled ashore. As Calypso was folded in her father's arms, he turned to me: "Didn't I tell you that I knew my daughter?" he said. "And I told you something too, O King," I replied--my eyes daring at last to rest on Calypso with the love and pride of my heart. "And where on earth have _you_ been, young man?" he asked, laughing. "Did Tobias kidnap you too?" It was very hard, as you will have seen, to astonish the "King." _ |
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