Cursed be the treasure
My thoughts were in a strange tangle when I arrived at the _Dolphin_,
and even my emotions were clashing conflictingly in my soul. On the one
hand I saw the cruel and useless murder of my father as a thing crying
for revenge. But again so steeped with repetition had I been in the
agonies of the Mad Captain that I felt he couldn't have done otherwise
than he did. The anguish in his soul had goaded him on to a cruelty he
hadn't contemplated. Perhaps even some cause I didn't know had made him
commit that first dreadful crime of imprisoning his comrades in the
cave and leaving them there to perish so miserably. Again I thought
how strange it was that history had repeated itself. The first crime
the priest had told of was the same as the last I had read that day.
The circle was complete, as though the curse had worked itself to a
consummation; and I was determined that it should end now once for all.
I would burn all traces of the clue to the treasure cave. I wouldn't
touch a penny of the evil gold if it should come my way. And come my
way I thought it might, as I knew the Captain was fond of me. And
puzzling out his fondness I thought at first it was merely that he had
been desirous to make amends; but later I felt sure he had come to like
me for my own sake. Well, what my course was to be I couldn't say. Was
a further expiation required? If so, I vowed some other hand than mine
should strike the blow.
At that I thought of Worthing who would have uncompromisingly declared
that blood must atone for blood. Was that the reason, I asked myself,
why my father's murder had sunk into insignificance with him? Had he
come on the trail of a greater crime? Was it for that he had hunted
down Abou, as he thought, promising him life if he would tell the
secret of the entrance? It wasn't gold he was after; that I felt sure
of. Was it justice?
With these questions tumultuously buzzing in my mind I reached the
_Dolphin_, wearily climbed the stairs, and opened the door of my room.
Facing me as I entered was the Captain himself. Without realizing what
I was doing I exclaimed:
"Commander Meadows!" In a frightened whisper I added, "Of the _Tiger_."
CHAPTER XXXII
INTO THE MORNING
I saw a smile of greeting change into a grimace of stupefied dismay.
My mind went back to the morning when in the kitchen just beneath us I
had blurted out, "The smugglers!" I stood horrified at what I had done.
This dismay on the Captain's face grew into an expression of savage
cunning, and I knew that all the deviltry of his lifelong madness was
roused to a ferocious passion. His head sank below his shoulders; his
hands curled and stiffened like the claws of an enraged beast; his eyes
at first swelled glaringly from their sockets, then sank back beneath
the half-closed lids in a terrible scrutiny of menace. And suddenly he
sprang upright with his hands thrown behind his head, and burst into a
peal of demoniac laughter more terrifying than the brutal crouching of
his first posture. And still I stood motionless watching him.
His frenzied mirth subsided at length into broken gigglings, hysterical
and unnatural. Tottering a little he felt about for a chair and sat
down heavily. Then drawing out a huge kerchief he mopped his brow which
was beaded over with perspiration, and still faintly chuckling said,
"Ha, yes, excellent; excellent, indeed. That's good, Tommy; that's a
good joke, a really good joke, 'pon my soul." He threw back his head
and forced out a harsh laugh.
I took a step forward. "Sir," I began, wondering how I might undo the
evil I had done. But at that he sprang up, and his savage madness
returned upon him.
"Stand back," he cried in a terrible voice, "stand back. I know you,
I know who you are. You think you can fool me, do you? You think I
don't know you, eh? God in heaven, what do you take me for, sir?" With
his curled fingers digging at the air as though to tear away some
obstructing veil he stared at me with reddening eyes, and went on, "Ha,
yes, you think you look like Tommy, do you? But I know you. You would
hunt me down, blast your eyes! You would tell me of the bodies lying
there. You would put the world upon my track. Ha, you would drag me out
into the light, point at me, set men's eyes upon me, name me murderer?
So? Murderer, am I? Killed my own brothers, did I? Trapped them and
left them there to die?" His voice rose more shrilly with each word,
and he finished with a scream, suddenly covering his face with his
hands, "And I did, I did! Oh, God!"
He sank sobbing to the floor. I didn't know what to do. It was
terrible, it was piteous. But I knew he was mad, and dared not approach
him.
Presently he seemed to regain control of himself. Still huddled on the
floor he threw out a hand to me, and looking up at me from flushed and
swollen eyes began in a strained, low, monotonous tone, "See here, this
is how it was. And you _will_ know sooner or later. They'd have killed
me. I tell you, they'd have killed me. Yes, my own brothers would have
killed me for the gold. But I found out how it lay. I trapped them
there. But one escaped; the youngest. I loved him. I tell you, I loved
the boy. And he would have killed me for the gold. I tell you...." He
broke off. His head fell between his hands. "You don't believe me," he
moaned reproachfully, "you don't believe a word I say."
"Sir," I cried, "I do believe you."
Slowly he peered up at me, and I saw a wicked gleam lighten his face.
"So," he said. "Then come and kiss me, boy."
I think I would have ventured all and gone to him to see if I might
pacify his tortured spirit, but I remembered how once before he had
snared me so at Sunset Towers. I held back doubtfully, though I
yearned to run to him and comfort him. At my hesitation his face grew
frightful. He sprang to his feet and cried, "He hates me. Tommy hates
me because I killed his father. I killed...." He stopped short, and
staring at me said deliberately, "You lie. It's all a lie. I didn't
kill him. My name is Field; Captain Field, I'd have you know. And the
crying you hear at night, Tommy, it's the ghost. You know it's the
ghost?"
"Yes, sir," I said, "I've seen it." For I thought to lead his mind back
to earlier associations.
But he chuckled to himself and said, "Little fool! Seen it, eh? Little
fool!"
The thought seemed to amuse him. He laughed quietly for a while. Then
again I saw his eyes slanting round at me. He stopped laughing, and
gazing at me stupidly, said, "Still here, eh? What do you want with me,
eh? God in heaven, can't you say what you want?"
He stood so for a moment, and I couldn't say a word.
Then he passed his hands across his eyes, and his face took on a look
of horror. "Tommy?" he asked. "Isn't it Tommy?"
"Yes, sir," I said, "I'm Tommy."
"Liar!" he cried. "Liar! I know you. Pah! There's the smell of blood
in the air. You've come from the grave, from the grave down there in
the woods. I know. Why can't you leave me in peace? Why must you follow
me? They told me it was quiet in the grave. Why can't you lie still?
Why can't you rest? What have I done to you? What have I ever done to
you that you should follow me like this? Yes, always follow me? Away, I
say; away!"
He sprang towards me with his hands before his eyes, lurching blindly
as though afraid to face me. I slipped to one side, and we changed
places. He removed his hands, and looking before him thought for a
moment I had gone, "Ha," he muttered, "I thought I saw him. I must be
going mad." Then he turned. I thought he would have fallen dead at my
feet. With mouth foaming and eyes staring he tottered dizzily forward
and collapsed to the floor without a struggle. I would have stepped to
him, but he lifted his face and looked furtively up at me from under
his brows, and said in a broken-hearted voice, "I tell you I'm sorry.
I can't say more. It had to be. Blood breeds blood. You should have
taken the money and gone away. But you took the money and followed me.
Always you followed. What could I do?"
I knew he was mistaking me for my father. Perhaps I was really growing
more like my father, or perhaps it was just his guilty imagination
tricking him. But I said once more, "Sir, I'm Tommy."
He lay crouched on the floor, breathing heavily, and watched me for a
minute or two. I thought his mind was clearing. "Tommy," he muttered,
"Jenny's Tommy. You'll be rich, Tommy; you'll be rich. And you needn't
fear. You're not to blame, boy. It's evil gold, and there's a curse
on it; but it won't hurt you. There's no blood upon your hands. Thank
God for that, boy; thank God for that. You take the gold, and ask no
questions. Your father asked too many questions. I gave him gold, but
he would ask questions. That's dangerous, boy."
He scrambled unsteadily to his feet, and said, "Come and kiss me,
Tommy."
But again the memory of that pursuit round the table held me doubtfully
back. Now there was no Abou to lead the Captain away if he meditated
treachery. The hesitation was fatal. He burst out into a torrent of
reproach: "Tommy hates me. He won't believe me. I say they would have
murdered me, but he won't believe me. Oh, Tommy, Tommy! My boy! And I
loved you." With a sobbing cry he burst through the door and away into
the woods, where I heard his voice echoing brokenly in a dying wail.
I was too exhausted to follow. I sat down where I was, and burying my
face in my hands yielded to a weak self-pity. My whole life lay in
pieces at my feet. I had killed those that had loved me best, driven
on by a fate that had blinded and mastered me. Through no sin of my
own I felt the clinging guiltiness of blood upon my hands. Ahead of me
I saw no cleansing, no healing. For now blackened out of my life was
the one bright gleam that had cheered me forward: my love for Jenny.
There would be no Jenny for me any more. A terrible river of blood lay
between us. The bridge of reconciliation that might have spanned it I
had destroyed with my own hands. If I had stifled my suspicions and
gone to the Captain when he had called me, all might have been well.
But I had closed the one door that he had opened. I had refused the
hand he had offered. I had sealed my own fate.
Jenny's Tommy, he had named me. The name stirred bitterly at my heart.
I remembered how Jenny had sent me forth to find her father's foe. I
remembered, too, how I had believed I had found him and killed him, but
had only killed my own friend. The irony of the thing had stung me at
the time. But now it seemed that the whole conclave of the fates were
heaving in laughter; for I had succeeded only in tracking down myself.
I had been hunting myself about the world. I was the man I had promised
to kill. I thought I couldn't do better than fulfil my promise. Jenny's
Tommy! There would be no Jenny for me.
How Dirk found me I needn't relate; nor how he took me back to London,
comforting me in his rough way when by broken fragments I gave him all
my story. He saw nothing to mope over. "Girls," he said, "don't let a
spot o' blood upset them." But I couldn't bring myself to face Jenny.
Not merely was I afraid of meeting the Captain again, but the thought
of naming love to Jenny sickened and disgusted me.
I was awakened into some kind of alertness when, after we had been in
London some days, Dirk told me the Captain hadn't returned to his home.
He knew the house, for he had tracked Abou there before he had set out
for the _Dolphin_ on his last journey. Jenny had been left in the care
of the maid, while the Captain, too restless to wait for Abou to find
me, had followed him after some days of fretful anxiety. Jenny, Dirk
had learnt, was still awaiting her father, unconscious of the tragedy
that had befallen him.