Cursed be the treasure
my story by heart, with all my wanderings from as far back as I could
remember, and all the secrets I had discovered around the coast and
even at Sunset Towers, when I thought he knew all this yet I couldn't
bring myself to part from him unless he wished me to. For I knew I
owed him a debt I could never hope to repay. So I was torn between two
desires: on the one hand Dirk and the romance of the sea called me to
be away on the wonderful summer waters, and on the other hand Worthing
and a sense of gratitude held me back on land.
I wondered how it would all end, for I was still too stupid from the
effects of the shock I had sustained to be master of my will. But the
knot untied itself. For one morning Worthing came to me and said he
was off to London. He had learnt all he could at this end of the trail;
now he must go and establish himself in his uncle's graces, and didn't
doubt but that he would have leisure and opportunity to work at the
mystery and eventually unravel it. His uncle, he knew, would lend him
every help, for the case promised to be one of intense interest in the
annals of crime.
This method of regarding the tragedy made me wince, but I answered
cheerily that I was ready to accompany him.
"But you're going to sea," he said.
"To sea?" I repeated.
"Look here, Tommy," he answered, "what you need is a thorough change.
You haven't got over the shock yet. You'll have a bad time of it before
you can face your life steadily. Well, you go off with Dirk while the
summer lasts, and then meet me in London. You see," he added, "I shall
be able to put your affairs straight in the meantime."
I didn't understand him. "My affairs?" I queried.
"Tommy," he said, taking me by the arm, "I've pumped you dry during the
last few weeks, but you haven't asked me a question; so I must speak
without being asked, that's all. You remember I was following you down
the cliff when you set off in chase of your father's murderer. Well,
when I came up your dad was still living."
I felt a gush of tears at my eyes, but I dashed them away and said,
"Yes?"
"His last thought was for you, Tommy. He gave me a packet which he
had in his coat, and I found another in his knapsack in the boat; he
didn't intend that you should miss it. He gave it to me and asked me to
see the matter straight. I think he had some sort of confidence in my
knowledge of this kind of thing. Of course I promised."
"But what is it?" I asked, trying to control my shaky voice. For the
picture of my murdered father was vividly before me, and I began to
realize as I hadn't yet done how bitter was my loss.
"There seems to be a fortune," Worthing continued. "There's a London
firm has charge of the gold, for it isn't banked. A bank, you see, is a
clue for anyone hunting you. Your dad didn't mean to leave more traces
than he could help."
I thought bitterly that all his caution had been of no avail at the end.
I grasped Worthing's hand and said, "I don't know what it all means.
You'll see to it, won't you?"
He said he had already pledged his word to do so.
So we spent that day together, and the next morning Worthing set off
for London, first writing out for me exact instructions where I was to
meet him. Then we tramped to the nearest stage; and I saw him mount the
coach and drive away on his mission.
I walked back slowly to the _Dolphin_, my mind growing clearer.
Worthing had said I should have a bad time before I learnt to face
life steadily; and already with my clearing vision I began to see how
desolate the world had become.
PART III
DIRK STORMAWAY
CHAPTER XXIII
DIRK TAKES ME IN HAND
For a few days my troubles were forgotten, for immediately on my return
to the _Dolphin_ Dirk marched me away to the shore. At Ebb-Tide Pool we
found his boat in waiting, and it was only a matter of a few strokes of
the oar before we were aboard his brig, the _Revenge_.
As we drew alongside he jerked his head up to the name.
"Used to be the _Sailor's Lass_," he said.
The anchor was hauled in, and the dream of my life began. I was like a
mad thing on board there. I couldn't grow weary questioning the hands
on the use of this and that, though they probably grew weary answering
me. For the most part they were kindly enough, though they dashed my
enthusiasm somewhat by their oaths and scolding. But they seldom laid
hands on me. It may have been that they were afraid to do so knowing
me under the protection of Dirk, a master to daunt the boldest. But I
think too I was popular on my own account. I was hardy and bold, and
could swarm a back-stay as easily as run up the ratlines. Also I was
willing and eager to take my share of the work, and so relieved the
lazier ones of many a climb aloft. And my precocity with the knife
and pistol amused them, and I could talk of strange things when we
lounged about the galley in the dog-watches which appealed to their
sailor-sense of the mysterious.
For a few days the world was an enchanted playground. The sky was a
serene blue, with here and there lazy woolly clouds floating over us
like argosies from fairyland. The wind was steady enough to swell
the sails without rolling us boisterously amid toppling waves. And
the water cutting away from the bows in a gush of leaping white, and
foaming out in a double wake to either side; the slapping of the waves
against the vessel, and spurting up in little fountains to the deck;
the long racing lines of the rollers, glittering with innumerable
greens and blues, and in the evening catching the colours of the west
and flaming suddenly into orange and red and purple; the mist on the
sea's face in the morning, like a white veil filmy and shifting and
translucent, and gleaming like cloudy mother-of-pearl as the sun
strengthened and shot it through with colour, to furl it up like a
banner of gauze till it melted and left the skyline clear, so that once
again to the sweep of the horizon were the dancing waters and the wide
free kingdom of the air; all these things which were the wonder and
beauty of the sea caught at my heart like a passion, till I thought I
should like to live for ever amid this inconstant wavering mystery,
this intangible fluctuant loveliness, which teased my spirit like a
thirst and fired it like a wine.
But this has little to do with my story, though I should like to dilate
on the joy of it all. For even when the sky clouded and the storm
caught us, the thunder rolling ponderously overhead like a caravan of
the giants, and the lightning stabbing at us out of the black heavens,
ripping the clouds across in savage jagged gashes, I still exulted,
being ignorant, and fighting on the high unsteady yards with the stiff
kicking sails thought that life was a wonderful game.
But with familiarity, though I never lost my enthusiasm, I had leisure
to return upon myself and take measure of the calamity which had
befallen me. The fumes had cleared from my mind by now, and I began
to understand that I should never see my father again. "He is dead,
dead, dead!" was no longer an ominous knocking from without; it was
a sorrow that had come to live with me for ever. My father, who had
been my whole world to me! He had gone. And I had been longing to
see him, counting the days, in an agony when the misadventure of the
officers and the later misadventure at Sunset Towers had threatened to
hold us apart. And yet, so malignant was the fate that had dogged us,
it was at the very moment of reunion that the blow had been struck.
It was an added pain to know that I hadn't even heard the last words
of his love. They had been spoken to another, while I, blind in my
rage, had forgotten him and left him to lie there, not even staying to
staunch his wound. I had leisure to think of all this, and it was agony
unspeakable while the mood lasted; but with the first of the morning,
for it was usually at night-time that the dark humour caught me, I was
out on deck and glorying in the shifting splendours of the dawn; for I
was still a boy, eager, romantic and leaping to the call of beauty with
an ardent and I think a poetic nature.
So the days passed.
I took no heed of where we were steering. At this time Dirk gave
me a free hand, not attempting so soon to break me in to the stern
discipline of the sea, consequently I wasn't called upon to take note
of our course. So I was surprised one day when dropping anchor off
shore Dirk lowered a boat, and getting in said to me, "Wull, you'd
better keep close, kiddy. If they catch you hereabouts they mightn't be
kind to you."
I looked questionably at the land, and asked, "Why, where are we?"
"Ho," he laughed, "you're a fine sailor, Tommy, my lad. I'd a thought
you'd a known the Rancey."
"The Rancey!" I exclaimed.
And sure enough there was the channel running into the land. But I had
never been as far as the mouth before.
A sudden desire set my heart thumping. I had hardly given a thought
to Jenny during the whole of the voyage. But I knew now by the uneasy
catching of my breath that a strange longing for her had suddenly
possessed me.
"Dirk," I cried, "take me with you."
"Orders!" he said sharply. "You stay here."
"Dirk," I cried again coaxingly.
He merely looked at me, and I knew I mustn't argue with him. So I
watched him lower away with a couple of hands and row off to shore.
The thought of Jenny set my heart strangely working. Though I knew well
I badly wanted to see her, yet there was a shrinking uneasiness at my
heart as though I were half afraid. The prospect of facing Jenny again
seemed more like an ordeal than a pleasure. Yet I wanted her, and was
tempted to put all to the hazard, dive in and swim to shore, and go and
find her. It wasn't so much the fear of disobeying Dirk that made me
hesitate as the knowledge that I hadn't yet accomplished my mission,
indeed didn't seem to have made the first step in its accomplishment. I
was ashamed to go to Jenny and say I had done exactly nothing, and in
fact didn't know what to do.
However, the desire to see her grew intense. Perhaps she would forgive
me when I told her of my father's death. And at that thought I felt a
longing for sympathy, so that the tears came to my eyes and I blubbered
like a girl. But I couldn't restrain the shaking sobs, and crept
into hiding so that I shouldn't be seen. All I knew was that I was
lonely and miserable, and I wanted Jenny to comfort me. But the only
consolation I had was the golden guinea she had given me. I pierced
it, and threading it with a piece of twine hung it about my neck like a
charm.
I waited for Dirk to return, intending to ask him again to let me go
ashore. But he didn't return, and the evening grew dark, and the sun
set over the land. So I crept into my bunk, and still sniffing a little
curled myself up and went to sleep. But with the morning Dirk was still
away. And then I suddenly knew why he had vanished, and cursed myself
for a fool for not having guessed before. He was on the track of the
King's Man. Probably he would be away some days. In any case if he
captured the fellow it would have to be at night-time. I would be safe
for the day then. I gobbled down some breakfast and taking my knife,
but leaving my pistol behind, I slipped on deck and waited for a chance
to drop overboard unobserved.
It wasn't long before the chance came. The men were resting, as there
was little work to do while the ship lay at anchor. The lookout wasn't
paying too much heed to his job. I was over the side, sliding down
the anchor chain, without a soul being any the wiser. And soon I was
ashore, and making for a fisherman's hut changed my wet clothes for