Gascoyne, The Sandal Wood Trader by R. M. Ballantyne

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"Ah! I'll not say another word if ye don't promise to let me go free,
and only take six niggers with ye."

"Well, Bumpus, I do promise, on the word of a true Norseman, which is
much better than that of a gentleman, that no harm shall come to you if
you tell me all you know of this matter. But I will promise nothing
more; because if you won't tell me, you have told me enough to enable
me to take such measures as will prevent Gascoyne from escaping."

"No, ye can't prevent it," said Bumpus, with an air of indifference. "If
you don't choose to come to my way o' thinkin', ye can take yer own
coorse. But, let me tell you, there's more people on the island that
will take Gascoyne's part than ye think of. There's the whole crew of
the Talisman, whose cap'n he saved, and a lot besides; an' if ye do come
to a fight about it, ye'll have a pretty tough scrimmage. There'll be
blood spilt, Mr. Thorwald, an' it was partly to prevent that as I comed
here for. But you know best. You better take yer own way, an' I'll take
mine."

The cool impudence of manner with which John Bumpus said this had its
effect on Ole, who, although fond enough of fighting against enemies,
had no sort of desire to fight against friends, especially for the sake
of a pirate.

"Come, Bumpus," said he, "you and I understand each other. Let us talk
the thing over calmly. I've quite as much objection to see unnecessary
bloodshed as you have. We have had enough of that lately. Tell me what
you know, and I promise to do what you recommend as far as I can in
reason."

"Do you promise to let no one else know wot I tell ye?"

"I do."

"An' d'ye promise to take no more than six niggers to prewent this
escape?"

"Will six be enough?"

"Plenty; but, if that bothers ye, say twelve,--I'm not partic'lar,--say
twelve. That's more than enough; for they'll only have four to fight
with."

"Well, I promise that too."

"Good. Now I'll tell ye all about it," said Bumpus. "You see, although
I'm splittin', I don't want to get my friends into trouble, and so I got
you to promise; an' I trust to yer word, Mr. Thorwald--you being a
gen'lmun. This is how it is: Young Henry Stuart thinks that although
Gascoyne is a pirate, or rather _was_ a pirate, he don't deserve to be
hanged. Cause why? Firstly, he never committed no murder; secondly, he
saved the lives o' some of your people--Alice Mason among the rest; and,
thirdly, he is an old friend o' the family as has done 'em good sarvice
long ago. So Henry's made up his mind that, as Gascoyne's sure to be
hanged if he's tried, it's his duty to prewent that there from happenin'
of. Now, ye see, Gascoyne is quite willin' to escape--"

"Ha! the villain!" exclaimed Ole; "I was sure of that. I knew well
enough that all his smooth-tongued humility was hypocrisy. I'm sorry for
Henry, and don't wish to thwart him; but it's clearly my duty to prevent
this escape if I can."

"So I think, sir," said Bumpus; "so I think. That's just w'at I said to
meself w'en I made up my mind for to split. Gascoyne bein' willin',
then, Henry has bribed the jailer, and he intends to open the jail door
for him at twelve o'clock this night, and he'll know w'at to do with his
legs w'en he's got 'em free."

"But how am I to prevent his escape if I do not set a strong guard over
the prison?" exclaimed Ole, in an excited manner. "If he once gets into
the mountains, I might as well try to catch a hare."

"All fair and softly, Mr. Thorwald. Don't take on so. It ain't two
o'clock yet; we've lots o' time. Henry has arranged to get a boat ready
for him. At twelve o'clock to-night the doors will be opened, and he'll
start for the boat. It will lie concealed among the rocks off the Long
Point. There's no mistakin' the spot, just west of the village; an' if
you place your niggers there, you'll have as good chance as need be to
nab 'em. Indeed, there's _two_ boats to be in waitin' for the pirate
captain and his friends--set 'em up!"

"And where is the second boat to be hidden?" asked Ole.

"I'm not sure of the exact spot; but it can't be very far off from the
tother, cer'nly not a hundred miles," said Bumpus, with a grin. "Now,
wot I want is, that if ye get hold of the pirate ye'll be content, an'
not go an' peach on Henry an' his comrades. They'll be so ashamed o'
themselves at bein' nabbed in the wery act that they'll give it up as a
bad job. Besides, ye can then go an' give him in charge of Capting
Montague. But if ye try to _prewent_ the escape bein' attempted, Henry
will take the bloody way of it; for I tell _you_, his birse is up, an'
no mistake."

"How many men are to be with Gascoyne?" asked Thorwald, who, had he not
been naturally a stupid man, must have easily seen through this clumsy
attempt to blind him.

"Just four," answered Bumpus; "an' I'm to be one of 'em."

"Well, Bumpus, I'll take your advice. I shall be at the Long Point
before twelve, with a dozen niggers, and I'll count on you lending us a
hand."

"No, ye mustn't count on that, Mr. Thorwald. Surely, it's enough if I
run away and leave the others to fight."

"Very well; do as you please," said Thorwald, with a look of contempt.

"Good day, Mr. Thorwald. You'll be sure to be there?"

"Trust me."

"An' you'll not a word about it to nobody?"

"Not a syllable."

"That's all square. You'll see the boat w'en ye git there, and as long
as ye see that boat yer all right. Good day, sir."

John Bumpus left Thorwald's house chuckling, and wended his way to the
widow's cottage, whistling the "Groves of Blarney."

CHAPTER XXXI.

THE AMBUSH--THE ESCAPE--RETRIBUTIVE JUSTICE--AND CONCLUSION.

An hour before the appointed time, Ole Thorwald, under cover of a dark
night, stole out of his own dwelling, with slow and wary step, and
crossed the little plot of ground that lay in front of it, with the sly
and mysterious air of a burglar rather than that of an honest man.

Outside his gate he was met in the same cautious manner by a
dark-skinned human being, the character of whose garments was something
between those of a sailor and a West India planter. This was Sambo,
Thorwald's major-domo, clerk, overseer, and right-hand man. Sambo was
not his proper name; but his master, regarding him as being the
embodiment of all the excellent qualities that could by any possibility
exist in the person of a South Sea islander, had bestowed upon him the
generic name of the dark race, in addition to that wherewith Mr. Mason
had gifted him on the day of his baptism.

Sambo and his master exchanged a few words in low whispers, and then
gliding down the path that led from the stout merchant's house to the
south side of the village, they entered the woods that lined the shore,
like two men bent on a purpose which might or might not be of the
blackest possible kind.

"I don't half like this sort of work, Sambo," observed Thorwald,
speaking and treading with less caution as they left the settlement
behind them. "Ambushments, surprises, and night forages, especially when
they include Goat's Passes, don't suit me at all. I have a strong
antipathy to everything in the way of warfare, save a fair field and no
favor, under the satisfactory light of the sun."

"Ho!" said Sambo, quietly; as much as to say, "I hear and appreciate,
but having no observation to make in reply, I wait for more from your
honored lips."

"Now, you see," pursued Thorwald, "if I were to follow my own tastes,
which, it seems to me, I am destined not to be allowed to do any more in
the affairs of this world, if I may judge by the events of the past
month,--if I were to follow my own tastes, I say, I would go boldly to
the prison where this pestiferous pirate captain lies, put double irons
on him, and place a strong guard round the building. In this case I
would be ready to defend it against any odds, and would have the
satisfaction of standing up for the rights of the settlement like a man,
and of hurling defiance at the entire British navy, at least such
portions of it as happens to be on the island at this time, if they were
to attempt a rescue--as this Bumpus hints they are likely to do. Yet it
seems to me strange and unaccountable that they should thus interest
themselves in a vile pirate. I verily believe that I have been deceived;
but it is too late now to alter my plans, or to hesitate. Truly, it
seemeth to me that I might style myself an ass, without impropriety."

"Ho!" remarked Sambo; and the grin with which the remark was accompanied
seemed to imply that he not only appreciated his master's sentiment,
but agreed with it entirely.

"You've got eleven men, I trust. Sambo?"

"Yes, mass'r."

"All good and true, I hope--men who can be trusted both in regard to
their fighting qualities and their ability to hold their tongues."

"Dumb as owls, ebery von," returned Sambo.

"Good! You see, my man, I _must_ not permit that fellow to escape; at
the same time I do not wish to blazon abroad, that it is my friend Henry
Stuart who is helping him. Neither do I wish to run the risk of killing
my friends in a scrimmage, if they are so foolish as to resist me;
therefore I am particular about the men you have told off for this duty.
Where did you say they are to meet us?"

"Close by de point, mass'r."

A few minutes' walk brought them to the point, where the men were
awaiting them. As far as Ole could judge, by the dim light of a few
stars that struggled through the cloudy sky, they were eleven as stout
fellows as any warrior could desire to have at his back in a
hand-to-hand conflict. They were all natives, clothed much in the same
manner as Sambo, and armed with heavy clubs; for, as we have seen,
Thorwald was resolved that this should be a bloodless victory.

"Whereabouts is the boat?" whispered Ole to his henchman, as he groped
his way down the rocky slopes toward the shore.

"'Bout two hondr'd yards more farder in front," said Sambo.

"Then I'll place the men here," said Ole, turning to the natives, who
were following close at his heels. "Now, boys, remain under cover of
this rock till I lead you on to the attack; and, mind what I say to
you,--_no killing_! Some of the party are my friends; d'ye understand? I
don't want to do them a damage; but I do want to prevent their letting
off as great a villain, I believe, as ever sailed the ocean under a
black flag--only his was a red one, because of his extreme
bloody-mindedness, no doubt, which led him to adopt the color of blood.
We will attack them in the rear; which means, of course, by surprise;
though I must confess that style of warfare goes much against the grain
with me. There are just four men, I am told, besides the pirate. Our
first onset will secure the fall of at least two of the party by my own
cudgel; and, mark me, lads, I don't say this in a spirit of boasting. He
would indeed be but a poor warrior who could not fell two men when he
took them unawares and in the dark. No; I feel half ashamed o' the work;
but I suppose it is my duty. So you see there will be just two men and
the pirate left for us to deal with. Four of you ought to be able to
overcome the two men without drawing blood, except, it may be, a little
surface fluid. The remaining nine of us will fall on the pirate captain
in a body. You will easily know him by his great size; and I have no
manner of doubt but that he will make himself further known by the
weight of his blows. If I happen to fall, don't look after me till you
have overcome and bound the pirate. The ropes are all ready, and my man
Sambo will carry them."

Having delivered this address to his followers, who by their "Ho's" and
grins indicated their perfect readiness to do as they were bid, Ole
Thorwald left them in ambush, and groped his way down to the beach,
accompanied by Sambo.

"Did you bring the chain and padlock. Sambo?"

"Yis, mass'r. But you no tink it am berer to take boat away--pull him
out ob sight?"

"No, Sambo; I have thought on that subject already, and have come to the
conclusion that it is better to let the boat remain. You see they have
placed it in such a way that as long as daylight lasted it could be seen
from the settlement, and even now it is visible at some distance, as you
see. If we were to remove it, they would at once observe that it was
gone, and thus be put on their guard. No, no, Sambo. I may not be fond
of ambushments, but I flatter myself that I have some talent for such
matters."

The master and servant had reached the beach by this time, where they
found the boat in the exact position that had been indicated by John
Bumpus. It lay behind a low piece of coral rock, fastened to an iron
ring by means of a rope, while the oars lay in readiness on the thwarts.

Sambo now produced a heavy iron chain, with which the boat was speedily
fastened to the ring. It was secured with a large padlock, the key of
which Ole placed in his pocket.

This being satisfactorily accomplished, they returned to the place of
ambush.

"Now, Mister Gascoyne," observed Thorwald, with a grim smile, as he sat
down beside his men and pulled out his watch, "I will await your
pleasure. It is just half-past eleven; if you are a punctual man, as Jo
Bumpus led me to believe, I will try your metal in half an hour, and
have you back in your cage before one o'clock! What say you to that,
Sambo?"

The faithful native opened his huge mouth wide, and shut his eyes,
thereby indicating that he laughed; but he said nothing, bad, good, or
indifferent, to his master's facetious observation. The other natives
also grinned, in a quiet but particularly knowing manner, after which
the whole party relapsed into profound silence, and kept their midnight
watch with exemplary patience and eager expectation.

At this same hour the pirate captain was seated in his cell on the edge
of the low bedstead, with his elbows resting on his knees and his face
buried in his hands.

The cell was profoundly dark,--so dark that the figure of the prisoner
could scarcely be distinguished.

Gascoyne did not move for many minutes; but once or twice a deep sigh
escaped him, showing that, although his body was at rest, his thoughts
were busy. At last he moved, and clasped his hands together violently,
as if under a strong impulse. In doing so, the clank of his chains
echoed harshly through the cell. This seemed to change the current of
his thoughts; for he again covered his face with both hands, and began
to mutter to himself.

"Aye," said he, "it has come at last. How often I have dreamed of this
when I was free and roaming over the wide ocean! I would say that I have
been a fool did I not feel that I have more cause to bow my head and
confess that I am a sinner. Ah, what a thing pride is! How little do men
know what it has cost me to humble myself before them as I have done!
yet I feel no shame in confessing it here, where I am all alone.
Alone?--_am_ I alone?"

For a long time Gascoyne sat in deep silence, as if he were following
out the train of thought which had been suggested by the last words.
Presently his ideas again found vent in muttered speech.

"In my pride I have said that there is no God. I don't think I ever
believed that; but I tried to believe it, for I knew that my deeds were
evil. Surely my own words will condemn me; for I have said that I think
myself a fool, and does not the Bible say that 'the fool hath said in
his heart there is no God?' Aye, I remember it well. The words were
printed in my brain when I learned the Psalms of David at my mother's
knee, long, long ago. My mother! what bitter years have passed since
that day! How little did ye dream, mother, that your child would come to
_this_! God help me!"

The pirate relapsed into silence, and a low groan escaped him. But his
thoughts seemed too powerful to be restrained within his breast; for
they soon broke forth again in words.

"Your two texts have come true, Pastor Mason. You did not mean them for
me; but _they were sent_ to me. 'There is no rest, saith my God, to the
wicked.'--No rest! I have not known rest since I was a boy.--'Be sure
your sin shall find you out.' I laughed at those words once; they laugh
at me now. I have found them out to be true, and found it out too late.
Too late! _Is_ it too late? If these words be true, are not all the
words of God equally true? 'The blood of Jesus Christ his Son cleanseth
us from _all_ sin.' That was what you said, Pastor Mason, on that Sunday
morning when the savages were stealing down on us. It gave me comfort
then; but, ah me! it seems to give me no comfort now. Oh that I had
resisted the tempter when he _first_ came to me! Strange! I often heard
this said long, long ago; but I laughed at it,--not in scorn; no, it was
an easy indifference. I did not believe it had anything to do with _me_.
And now, I suppose, if I were to stand in the public streets and cry
that I had been mistaken, with all the fervor of a bursting heart, men
would laugh at me in an easy way--as I did then.

"I don't fear death. I have often faced it, and I don't remember ever
feeling afraid of death. Yet I shrink from death _now_. Why is this?
What a mystery my thoughts and feelings are to me! I know not what to
think. But it will soon be over; for I feel certain that I shall be
doomed to die. God help me!"

Gascoyne again became silent. When he had remained thus a few minutes,
his attention was roused by the sound of footsteps and of whispering
voices close under his window. Presently the key was put in the lock,
the heavy bolt shot back, and the door creaked on its hinges as it
opened slowly.

Gascoyne knew by the sound that several men entered the cell, but, as
they carried no light, he could not tell how many there were. He was of
course surprised at a visit at such an unusual hour, as well as at the
stealthy manner in which his visitors entered; but, having made up his
mind to submit quietly to whatever was in store for him, and knowing
that he could not hope for much tenderness at the hands of the
inhabitants of Sandy Cove, he was not greatly disturbed. Still, he would
not have been human had not his pulse quickened under the influence of a
strong desire to spring up and defend himself.

The door of the cell was shut and locked as quietly as it had been
opened; then followed the sound of footsteps crossing the floor.

"Is that you, jailer?" demanded Gascoyne.

"Ye'll know that time enough," answered a gruff voice, that was not
unfamiliar to the prisoner's ear.

The others who had entered along with this man did not move from the
door,--at least, if they did so, there was no sound of footsteps. The
man who had spoken went to the window and spread a thick cloth over it.
Gascoyne could see this, because there was sufficient light outside to
make the arms of the man dimly visible as he raised them up to
accomplish his object. The cell was thus rendered, if possible, more
impenetrably dark than before.

"Now, pirate," said the man, turning round and suddenly flashing a dark
lantern full on the stern face of the prisoner, "you and I will have a
little convarse together--by yer leave or without yer leave. In case
there might be pryin' eyes about, I've closed the porthole, d'ye see."

Gascoyne listened to this familiar style of address in surprise, but did
not suffer his features to betray any emotion whatever. The lantern
which the seaman (for such he evidently was) carried in his hand threw a
strong light wherever its front was turned, but left every other part of
the cell in partial darkness. The reflected light was, however, quite
sufficient to enable the prisoner to see that his visitor was a short,
thick-set man, of great physical strength, and that three men of unusual
size and strength stood against the wall, in the deep shadow of a
recess, with their straw hats pulled very much over their eyes.

"Now, Mr. Gascoyne," began the seaman, sitting down on the edge of a
small table beside the low pallet, and raising the lantern a little,
while he gazed earnestly into the prisoner's face, "I've reason to
believe--"

"Ha! you are the boatswain of the Talisman!" exclaimed Gascoyne, as the
light reflected from his own countenance irradiated that of Dick Price,
whom, of course, he had seen while they were on board the frigate
together.

"No, Mister Pirate," said Dick; "I am _not_ the bo's'n of the Talisman,
else I shouldn't be here this night. I _wos_ the bo's'n of that
unfortunate frigate, but I is so no longer."

Dick said this in a melancholy tone, and thereafter meditated for a few
moments in silence.

"No," he resumed with a heavy sigh, "the Talisman's blow'd up, an' her
bo's'n's out on the spree, so to speak--though it ain't a cheerful
spree, by no means. But to come back to the p'int (w'ich was wot the
clergyman said w'en he'd got so far away from the p'int that he never
_did_ get back to it), as I wos sayin', or was goin' to say w'en you
prewented me, I've reason to b'lieve you're agoin' to try for to make
yer escape."

"You are mistaken, my man," said Gascoyne, with a sad smile; "nothing is
further from my thoughts."

"I don't know how far it's from yer thoughts," said Dick, sternly, "but
it's pretty close to your intentions, so I'm told."

"Indeed you are mistaken," replied Gascoyne. "If Captain Montague has
sent you here to mount guard, he has only deprived you of a night's rest
needlessly. If I had intended to make my escape, I would not have given
myself up."

"I don't know that,--I'm not so sure o' that," rejoined the boatswain,
stoutly. "You're said to be a obstinate feller, and there's no sayin'
what obstinate fellers won't do or will do. But I didn't come here for
to argify the question with _you_, Mister Gascoyne. Wot I com'd here for
wos to do my duty; so, now, I'm agoin' to do it."

Gascoyne, who was amused in spite of himself by the manner of the man,
merely smiled, and awaited in silence the pleasure of his eccentric
visitor.

Dick now set down the lantern, went to the door, and returned with a
coil of stout rope.

"You see," observed the boatswain, as he busied himself in uncoiling-and
making a running noose on the rope, "I'm ordered to prewent you from
carrying out your intentions--wotiver these may be--by puttin' a coil or
two o' this here rope round you. Now, wot I've got to ask of you is,
Will ye submit peaceable like to have it done?"

"Surely, this is heaping unnecessary indignity upon me!" exclaimed
Gascoyne, flushing crimson with anger.

"It _may_ be unnecessary, but it's got to be done," returned Dick, with
cool decision, as he placed the end of a knot between his powerful
teeth, and drew it tight. "Besides, Mister Gascoyne, a pirate must
expect indignities to be heaped upon him. However, I'll heap as few as
possible on ye in the discharge of my duty."

Gascoyne had started to his feet; but he sat down, abashed on being thus
reminded of his deserts.

"True," said he; "true. I will submit."

He added in his mind, "I deserve this;" but nothing more escaped his
lips, while he stood up and permitted the boatswain to pass the cord
round his arms, and lash them firmly to his sides.

Having bound him in a peculiarly tight and nautical manner, Dick once
more went to his accomplices at the door, and returned with a hammer and
chisel, and a large stone. The latter he placed on the table, and,
directing Gascoyne to raise his arms--which were not secured below the
elbows--and placed his manacles on the stone, he cut them asunder with a
few powerful blows, and removed them.

"The darbies ain't o' no use, you see, as we've got you all safe with
the ropes. Now, Mister Gascoyne, I'm agoin' to heap one more indignity
on ye. I'm sorry to do it, d'ye see; but I'm bound for to obey orders.
You'll be so good as to sit down on the bed,--for I ain't quite so long
as you, though I won't say that I'm not about as broad,--and let me tie
this napkin over yer mouth."

"Why!" exclaimed Gascoyne, again starting and looking fiercely at the
boatswain; "this, at least, must be unnecessary. I have said that I am
willing to submit quietly to whatever the law condemns me. You don't
take me for a woman or a child, that will be apt to cry out when hurt?"

"Certainly not; but as I'm goin' to take ye away out o' this here limbo,
it is needful that I should prewent you from lettin' people know that
yer goin' on yer travels; for I've heerd say there's some o' yer friends
as is plottin' to help you to escape."

"Have I not said already that I do not wish to escape, and therefore
will not take advantage of any opportunity afforded me by my friends?
Friends! I have no friends! Even those whom I thought were my friends
have not been near my prison all this day."

Gascoyne said this bitterly, and in great anger.

"Hush!" exclaimed Dick; "not quite so loud, Mister Pirate. You see there
_is_ some reason in my puttin' this on your mouth. It'll be as well to
let me do it quietly, else I'll have to get a little help."

He pointed to the three stout men who stood motionless and silent in the
dark recess.

"Oh, it was cowardly of you to bind my arms before you told me this,"
said Gascoyne, with flashing eyes. "If my hands were free now--"

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