Dead men's gold

Chapter I

“ 4 These were thy merchants in all sorts of things ; in blue clothes, and broidered work ; and in chests of rich apparel, bound . .

My father’s voice was lost then in the roar of the wind from the sea. It struck the shutters, as if to wrench them from their hinges and brpak the window-panes, and blow in on us. The flame of the lamp flickered, and the wick smoked. Fat rain drops tumbled down the chimney, and hissed on the coals ; and drove the ash from the hearth, like flakes of seascud. My father did not lift his eyes from the page, and his fingers traced the verses. He read on, and before the wind was by, and my ears took in the words again, I had lost half a verse or more.

44 4 . . . wast replenished, and made very glorious in the midst of the seas * ” (shaking the lamp smuts from the page). 44 4 Thy rowers have brought thee into great waters ; the East

2 1 wind hath broken thee in the midst of the

I did not always listen when my father read a chapter. My eyes and thoughts would go a-wandering. I would forget him sitting, grim and grey, before the lamp. I would stare up at the high book-shelves, and at the three yellow prints above them ; they were Hogarth’s, and, boy as I was, I could not understand how my father could endure Hogarth. I would be wondering what was hid in the great chest of scented Eastern wood by the door — the black chest clasped with copper, and mottled with queer little figures of pink and blue pearl shell, and black and gold lacquer, walking under trees of white silver bearing yellow fruit. Or the curtains would wave in the draught, and I would think to myself, that, if I went to them on tip-toe, and pulled them aside smartly, I’d

find - I used to shiver at the thought of

what I’d find. The curtains hung before the window over the sea — I had loved to lie in the deep recess of the window, and stare out over the sea, ever since I could remember. In the evening the sea might be red as blood ; gold and purple ; or grey as lead, taking pattern from the west. Or it would shimmer all salt white under the moon, that came down to it by a track of silver. It would be placid as the sky ; or wild with the storm that blew the spray to the very windows, till the salt crusted the panes.

The sea — what was beyond the sea ? I only knew that there was the world across it, and many strange countries and peoples. I had a notion of these countries and these peoples from the maps and the books of travel, from which my father taught me. And, when I pictured them, I wanted to be away from our island — Wild Dog Island ; and to mix in the great world ; and see the strange peoples, and find friends. For I was lonely, and had been lonely nigh all my fourteen years of life ; and I dreaded my father, dour and grey-headed, and harsh of feature ; and I cared little for Jeremy Otter, his man, nor yet for Margaret Otter, Jeremy’s wife. Other companionship I had none, save when the little ketch came down from Sydney six times a year and brought us our supplies ; and then I spent many a precious hour in chattering to the skipper, McArdle, and his crew. Many things they told me — much that was false no doubt ; much that was true. Of the convicts that laboured about Sydney, or wore their lives out at Macquarie Harbour and at Port Arthur in Van Diemen’s

Land — the great isle to the south of us ; of daring escapes ; of desperate deeds ; of cruel punishments. Of the sealers, wild and lawless men, who had escaped in the earliest days of the Botany Bay settlement, and, peopling the other islands of Bass Straits, had mated with the Black People of Van Diemen’s Land ; and lived by wrecking, fishing, buccaneering, and selling the brine-drenched flesh and downy feathers of the mutton-birds — the puffins — such as nested late October after October in the crags of Wild Dog Island.

My father’s house was set on the cliffs one hundred feet above the landing place of the island. It was built of grey blocks of stone, cemented with a mortar of lime and sand, and roofed with shingles, split from the gum trees in the heart of Wild Dog. It was furnished with a rough, bare comfort, having in it a few curious chests from India ; boxes, tables and chairs of Norfolk Island pine ; scraps of barbaric textures of green and scarlet and cinnamon and gold ; many books ; curious distorted Eastern bowls of brass, and beaten platters.

The room in which we sat was lime-washed, hung with the Hogarth prints ; with many leather-bound books piled against the walls ; the black chest, the faded cinnamon and scarlet curtains. The blaze of the great fire upon the hearth and the clear light of the swinging ship’s lantern lit upon my father’s pallid and cada¬ verous face, his tumbling iron-grey hair ; his fine hands spreading out the pages of the Bible. I mark my father now — John Ingleby — a lean, lank figure of a man, clad rustily in black — his linen scrupulous, his neck-kerchief tied loosely. Facing him, myself — a brown, slim stick, in my blue brass-buttoned coat, my flannel shirt, and my thick trousers of white duck. Outside the lamentation of great winds and waters, and the endless patter of the October rains upon the roof and windows. My mother ? — I could recollect her but as a vision dimly remembered. A lovely face, that, when I would conjure up its lineaments, would fade from my brain 1 My wandering thoughts had brought me much trouble, while the nightly chapter was read — many a cuff, and many a cut, too, from my father’s long, lean Malacca cane. It lay always by the Book on the table, lest I be so wayward as to need a flogging. But on this night, when my father read of the ruin of an old sea-city and the wreck of richly freighted ships, my fancy keeping pace held my thoughts on his reading. I’d have escaped all chance of a flogging but for the Bell.

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“ 4 Thou shalt be broken by the seas in the depths of the waters,’ ” read my father.

And at that verse, while the wind dulled, I heard the faint beat of the Bell. The Bell, that I had fancied that I heard so many nights of storm, when lying on my bed awake from the roar of wind and sea, that I had forgotten, long since, when first it had seemed to sound ; the Bell that was to me an endless source of wondering and imaginative flights ; the Bell that, I vowed, was hung and swung in some lost sea cave by the ghostly hands of old drowned seamen from the ships, that, I had read, came sailing from Spain and Portugal and Holland centuries before the English touched the Southern coasts ; the Bell that on every night of storm sounded to me, in a drear monotone, slow stroke upon slow stroke the hours through, till the wind was laid, and the sea was down once more.

Clang ! sounded the Bell.

“ 1 The inhabitants of the isles shall be aston¬ ished,’ ” read my father.

Clang ! sounded the Bell. Thereat, forgetful of whip and Book, I needs must jump from my chair, and, plucking at my father’s sleeve, bawl in his ear, “ Hark to the Bell ! ”

My father’s eyes gleamed chilly as he looked at me ; and he kept his finger to the page to mark the place.

44 I never heard the Bell so loud as on this night,” cried I, seeking to put a bold face on it, though feeling the blood run to my cheek at his dour aspect, and my back tingle, as if the whip were already across it.

My father pointed to my chair. 44 To your seat, sir,” snapped he. 44 How dare you inter¬ rupt me with these fooleries, when I am reading the Book ? Have a care, sir ! ”

44 But, father, the Bell,” muttered I, sinking discomfited into my chair.

He shifted his eyes from off me to the Book, and read the chapter to its end. I heard no word of it, having ears only for the tongue of the Bell that sounded now in metallic mono¬ tone ; and at brief intervals, as if its clapper were stirred at each inward sweep of the sea. And though the wind was mighty, and the surf made a great sound, its voice was defined above them, or else my ears with their straining forgot the turmoil of the storm, and heard only its clanging. My father droned the chapter through in a mumble that had been lost to me from the voices of the sea and the wind, had I paid heed to him, and the matter that he read. He shut the Book ; he clasped it carefully ; he turned and glowered upon me. Red of cheek, and foolish, I sat waiting for his admonition, and the whip warm about me to point its moral.

“ Now, sir, what’s this nonsensical notion of a bell ? ” demanded my father.

“ Don’t you hear it, father ? ” I stammered. “ Listen — there ! ”

Clang ! sounded the Bell.

“I do not hear it, my lad,” snapped he, his fingers straying towards the whip. “I do not hear it. Your shallow pate is stuffed so full of all these godless fooleries that McArdle and his pack poke into your ears, that you’re become three parts a fool. Come, sir — here’s what will bring you to your wits again ! ”

I slouched forward respondent to his lean beckoning finger. His left hand had gripped the collar of my jacket, and he had swung me round, when —

Clang ! sounded the Bell.

Staring up at him I saw his face change curiously from cold anger to as near a similitude of amaze as ever I had sighted upon it. Thus we stood for full the space of a minute with whip in air, and I waiting half bent towards the chest, across which, save for the clang of the Bell, I should have been sprawling ere that instant for my flogging. The wind coining up then howled round the house, and shut out all other sound ; but when it was gone by again, through the night clanged loud the Bell. My father loosed me ; flung down the whip ; and, walking to the chimney-piece, leaned his back against it, and so stood looking down upon me, while I stared up at him, agape that aught should have stayed his hand when he was set on flogging me.

44 What’s this Bell ? ” demanded he at length. “ Have ’ee heard it before ? ”

“ On many nights, father.”

44 On many nights ! On other nights than this ? On other nights ? ”

4 4 Ay, whenever there is a great storm, and the sea is up. But never have I known it so loud.”

44 Why did you never speak to me of this before ? ”

44 1 thought you’d call me a fool for my pains ; and flog me to drive such notions out of my head. And I thought, if it was a bell, you’d have ear for it yourself.”

He shot me a sharp look at that. Truth to tell, it was three parts a lie to tell him it had ever been my thought, that he would have had ears for the clanging of the Bell, no matter how loud it had seemed to me.

Clang ! sounded the Bell.

44 Hark to it, father,” I cried. 44 Hark to it ! What, don’t you hear it ? ”

He answered not a word, but, striding across the room, plucked back the curtains. The black¬ ness was ebon ; but the rain and the scud tinkled against the window panes. And sud¬ denly the darkness of the pane was lit by a white phosphorescent glare, that, flaring for an instant, went out, and left the night in blackness. Then I heard the Bell no more ; I heard no more of the turmoil of the storm. I heard the boom across the waters ; I heard my father’s voice —

44 A ship — there’s a ship on the Dog’s Tooth 1 Rouse Otter ! ”

Chapter II

Jeremy Otter and Margaret his wife lodged in a little stone cottage to the rear of my father’s house. I had snatched a lantern from the wall, while my father sought his cloak ; and, lighting the wick with a splinter from the fire, I rushed from the room, and out by the great ironbound house door in search of Jeremy. Jeremy was yet astir, for the red flame of the fire upon his hearth leaped against the window of his cottage as I tore helter-skelter through the streaming rain across the courtyard to his door. So fierce a blast came beating down, that I was flung against the very door ; the lamp smashed from my hands ; and the light with a flare and splutter went out. I beat upon the door then, until Jeremy, red-faced and stout, pipe in his mouth, and tasselled night-cap on his head, drew back the bolts, and let me in.

12 The Wreck of the Indiamcm

44 Oh,” said Jeremy ; 44 oh, ’tis you, Dick ! Is the master sick ? ”

Margaret Otter, lean, pallid, and grim, clad in her tight black gown, white-aproned and white-capped, did not stir from her chair ; but her keen black eyes behind the spectacles perched on her nose peered at me like two sparks.

44 No — no, Jeremy,” gasped I. 44 My father’s well enough ! It’s a ship — on the rocks — the Dog’s Tooth ! Didn’t you hear the gun ? ”

44 The gun ! ” he repeated, blinking at me batlike. 44 1 heard no gun. You heard no gun, Margaret ? ”

She shook her head, her eyes seeming to swing and flicker like the ketch’s lanterns on a night at sea.

44 You’re to come at once, Jerry,” I cried. 44 Father’s going down to see if he can help. And you, too, Margaret ! W e’re all going — come along. Don’t stay a minute.”

44 The Dog’s Tooth,” growled Jeremy, dragging down a thick pea-jacket and sou’-wester from the wall. 44 How should a ship come on the Dog’s Tooth ? And what chance has a ship, once bein’ there ? — Right, Dick, right — I’m cornin’. Now, Margaret ! ”

She rose stiffly from her chair, and lit the wick of a lantern, and handed the light to Jeremy. She took down a long, thick tartan shawl, and wrapped it about her neck and shoulders — all the while saying nothing, but moving silently, as was her wont. We went out then, Jeremy bearing the lantern, I coming after, Margaret at our heels. There was a temporary break in the pelting rain ; but the wind had abated nothing of its strength. It smote down between the house and the hut with such a force, that it nigh tore the lantern from Jeremy’s hands ; it sought to rend Margaret’s shawl from off her shoulders, and for all the heat of my excitement, drove like keen knives into my body. The house door was flung back with a crash ; and, against the lamplight that lit the doorway, my father’s tall figure was revealed ; his cloak wrapped loosely about his lean body ; his face pallid and cadaverous beneath his hat brim. We crossed towards him ; and at once spying me, capless and uncloaked, he called to me, “ Get into the house, boy ; this is no night for you to be abroad.”

“ Oh, mayn’t I come too, father ? ” cried I. 44 1 may be of some use.” But for answer his hand shot out, and, gripping me by the collar of my jacket, propelled me forward into the house.

“ No fooling, sir,” snarled he, “ no fooling. Keep up the fire ; and set the kettle to boil. Don’t you dare stir abroad, or - ”

The tail of his threat was lost to me in the sudden squall of wind that brought the door to, and shut them out in the night, and left me within the house. Raging, I made my way to the living room ; and, after piling a couple of logs upon the fire, ran hastily to the window and peered out.

The moon had broken through the clouds ; but rode palely for the terror of the night. The wind came violently ; and with scarce an interval — cannonade following upon cannonade, and from below the cliffs the endless roll of mighty drums. For the paleness of the moon, for the black clouds that sought to compel it back into the profundity, I could make out nothing for the time — save the gleam of Jeremy’s lantern as they moved across the cliffs. A blue flare started suddenly from the sea — a distress signal, I took it, from the wrecked vessel ; it showed me momentarily the outline of the Dog’s Tooth ; the whirl of waters ; the black hull from which the flame was kindled, the very outlines of shattered masts, and the tangled rigging like so much torn cobweb. It was so near that I saw all as in a picture. The gale was loose at that, as if combining with the sea to overwhelm their victim. Blackness, then, the flare and the pallid moon enveloped in the murk ; nothing save the turmoil of sound ; the wind and sea commingling. Nothing ? Ay, on that instant came up from the sea a cry so awful that wind and sea were pierced ; and thought and brain could take the impression of no other sound. I believed then that the ship parted asunder, and the end was come.

At that I could remain in the house no longer. I snatched down my pea-jacket from its peg, and pulled my cap about my ears. I piled up the logs upon the fire ; and, swinging the great kettle forward so that it might boil, I scurried from the room. I heard my dog howl from his kennel by the door that overlooked the sea front ; and I ran through the house to loose him. As the door dashed open before the wind, he leaped at me from his kennel, as though to snap his chain, his eyes agleam, his jaws aslaver.

44 Down, Pitch, down ! ” I roared, striking his muzzle as he caught joyously at my hand, flinging me back with his weight. Thereat he fell to whining at my knees, while I loosed the collar from his neck ; and, as collar and chain clattered to the wet cobbles, he plunged off in the darkness.

41 Pitch ! ” cried I. 44 Pitch — to heel,” but he paid no heed, and, pulling the door to, I must needs follow after.

The black squall had passed for the time, and the moon hung like a flickering white lamp in the break. It lit my way for me — across the rough strip of herbage, now sponge-like with the rain ; and thence through a scrub of stunted gums and broom. Wet to the thighs, I came out presently upon the flat terraces of rock that crowned the cliffs. The wind and the sea came up at me. Their voices were as thunder. The wind cut through my garments like a knife ; and chilled my hands in my jacket pockets. The salt spume from the rollers, breaking high, fell on my cheeks, and dulled my eyes like rain. Under the moon, I made out the surge of the Straits coming pillar upon pillar, and falling in ruins, and mounting yet again, as if to crush the cliffs. The Dog’s Tooth stood out all glistening in the moonlight ; between it and the shore of Wild Dog there was nothing distinguishable — all was confusion, whirl¬ pool, sea wrack, I marked the great retriever standing out momentarily, as cut in stone, upon the edge of the terrace ; but the sea surging up at him, to sweep him from the cliff, he dashed back, barking furiously, and spying me, came muttering and slavering to my side. We went on then, smitten by wind and surf, along the slippery, glistening rocks.

All this while I had not espied the lantern borne by Jeremy. I took it that the three would be down upon the pebbly beech, whither the wash of the sea would bear the ruins of the ship — and, maybe on floating spar, or raft, or boat, some of her crew. I knew that, if I approached my people, my father would bid me return instantly to the house — therefore I sneaked along the cliff above the beach, and did not dare climb down. All the while I called Pitch to heel, lest his resounding bark betray me. At last I marked them gathered upon the kelp-piled beach below — hanging to¬ gether about Jeremy’s lamp. They must be helpless to aid the hapless crew upon the wreck. No boat could live in such a sea ; but must be swamped and flung in on the beach, or sucked into the whirlpool between the jagged fang and the further island. Even in calm weather we believed that the current swept treacherously between the two ; and none of us dared approach the dangerous waters. The further island was of considerable extent ; but girt about with 3 cliffs, haunted only by gulls, and washed per¬ petually by the tumultuous waters of the Straits. No Man’s Isle, we called it, for no man, to our knowing, had ever set foot upon it. Therefore my father and Jeremy and Margaret Otter could do no more than hang about the beaches, and wait lest the sea fling up at their feet some living member of the ship’s company.

Still clinging to the terraces, I stole, with Pitch at my heels, above the three, making my way towards a second strip of beach divided from the first by a great pillar of rock that had slid down the cliff’s side into the sea. The black rain clouds, sweeping again before the wind, now hid the moon’s pale face ; yet the white rocks gave off a curious green phosphores¬ cent shimmer. Slipping, sliding, at times nigh shooting over the very edge of the cliff into the cauldron below, I made my way perilously, until at last I came out on the rocks above the second beach. The beach was awash save for the merest strip of strand ; and that was pro¬ tected only by a high barricade of tom kelp and weed. The rain and the sea lashed my face, as I climbed down the slippery rocks in the darkness, with no purpose save the gratification of my curiosity, and with small hope that I might be of any aid to the helpless beings, drowning from the wreck. If they had launched a boat, it seemed impossible that it should have lived. But if it lived, and were borne shoreward by the breakers, it should be beached either upon the first strip, where my father and his servants waved the lantern for guidance, or on the kelp-strewn beach, where I had taken up my stand. I set my back against a crevice of the rock, and stared out over the black turmoil of waters, seeking to pierce the murk ; but the scud came so thick that my eyes were stuck speedily with salt ; and I could only peer dimly through the shelter of my fingers. The dog, growling defiance of the menace of the sea, crouched by my side ; and at times slavered and gripped at my hand, as though to drag me back from peril. I cared nothing for the sea that smote on the rocks like huge hammers, and, when the moon evaded the clouds, flung off a glittering phosphorescence. But even when the squalls had passed, and the clouds, having poured down their rain, swept onwards, I could make out nothing. It seemed as if I stood nigh the foot of a fall of water from many feet above me. Its sound was endless as its eternal turmoil.

From the wreck all this time I could hear nothing for the wind and the breakers. I leant against the wet rocks, it seemed for the better part of a half-hour, waiting in the hope that out of the blackness a boat might yet be borne ashore. All the while my hot excitement protected me against the bitter chill of the wind, that smote against me ; and the cold lash of the surf upon my cheeks. Out of the blackness — out of the turmoil — nothing — something !

New sound upon the sea commingling with the wind, voices of the same note as its own anguish — voices off shore ! I fancied then that a boat had left the wreck, and come in with the breakers ; and, leaning forward, my fingers sheltering my face against the blinding spray, I stood with eyes and ears straining to make out sound and shape. I called out presently, not knowing what, yet crying with the full power of my lungs, hoping that, though the wind flung back the voice against the rocks in mockery, I still might make them hear, and bring them to the kelp-lined break between the cliffs. And then there came a wail from out the blackness nigh in shore — a wail, that, being nearer, seemed as loud and piteous as when the ship was parted by the sea ; and instantly I left my place, and ran down over the pebbles all awash with the sea, and leant against the very wall of kelp that broke the forces of the rollers. The clouds had parted yet again ; and the moon looked out upon the seas. I believed then that I caught a glimpse of a boat borne shorewards, and human shapes clinging to it. Instantly the moon was swamped from sight by the clouds ; and all once more was blackness and turmoil. I screamed out — again, and yet again — believing that the boat had been capsized ; and that a few poor, drowning wretches yet clung to it ; and that the sea, plunging upon them, sought to beat them off into the one destruction.

Again, shivering and sea-drenched, I was leaning back against the rocks, waiting the coming of the boat, scarce hoping that any living thing should yet be left upon it. The dog, crouching by my side, still moaned and slavered. I was growing numb with the cold ; and my senses were dulling, for all my hot excitement and terror for the fate of the poor wretches clinging to the upturned boat.

The dog had now left my side, and was barking furiously upon the belt of kelp. I heard his last yelp, as he plunged into the sea, and I staggered down after him. The waves bore him back presently to my feet — struggling bravely. And then I marked that he had gripped within his jaws a shapeless mass, that clung about him, as if locked in death. Ah — the sea had borne in the body of a boy, clinging about the great dog, as if Pitch had reached him ere he perished. I gripped the body then, and putting forth my fullest strength, I dragged it over the pebbles and up to the terrace under the cliffs. I snatched my jacket off and wrapped it speedily about it. And I climbed the cliff, and darted off in search of my father and the others, leaving the dog still barking furiously by the body of the boy.

Chapter III

A quarter of an hour thence my father and I were staggering up the cliffs toward the house. My father bore the boy in his arms, as easily as if he had been a little child. And I walked beside him, mad with excitement ; for, when we had climbed down under the cliffs, the four of us, and flashed the light upon the white upturned face, we found the great dog curled warmly against the body ; and indeed, as we knelt beside the boy, he was drawing his breath thickly. He was not dead, and Pitch had saved him. My father dribbled a little brandy between the shipwrecked lad’s lips, whereat he shuddered violently, and was sick from the salt that he had swallowed ; then, opening his dim eyes, he blinked up at us, and relapsed instantly into unconsciousness.

Wrapping the coat about him, my father lifted him in his arms, and bidding Jeremy and

Margaret remain in the event of any other from the wreck being flung ashore, and me to follow him, strode away toward the house. All this while my father had said nothing of my disobeying him. I had enough knowledge of him to be assured that he would not forget. Yet, though I believed that on the morrow the very devil of a flogging awaited me, I had small concern for it, but thought only of the rescued lad, whom he bore in his arms. He lived — at least he lived ! A boy — my own age — that meant companionship for me for a time ! It would be a month ere McArdle and his ketch sailed down to Wild Dog. So I was all aflame with excitement at the thought of a new interest in the island ; and, for the saving of the boy, I forgot even the horror of the wreck, and all the loss of life that it entailed.