Gascoyne, the Sandal-Wood Trader, Page 2

  CHAPTER TWO.

  BUMPUS IS FIERY AND PHILOSOPHICAL--MURDEROUS DESIGNS FRUSTRATED.

  The captain of the schooner, whose deep voice had so suddenly terminatedthe meditations of John Bumpus, was one of those men who seem to havebeen formed for the special purpose of leading and commanding theirfellows.

  He was not only unusually tall and powerful--physical qualities which,in themselves, are by no means sufficient to command respect--but, as wehave said, he possessed a deep full-toned bass voice in which thereseemed to lie a species of fascination, for its softest tones rivetedattention, and when it thundered forth commands in the fiercest stormsit inspired confidence and a feeling of security in all who heard it.The countenance of the captain, however, was that which induced men toaccord to him a position of superiority in whatever sphere of action hechanced to move. It was not so much a handsome as a manly andsingularly grave face, in every line of which was written inflexibledetermination. His hair was short, black, and curly. A small moustachedarkened his upper lip, but the rest of his face was closely shaven, sothat his large chin and iron jaw were fully displayed. His eyes were ofthat indescribable blue colour which can exhibit the intensest passion,or the most melting tenderness.

  He wore a sombre but somewhat picturesque costume--a dark-colouredflannel shirt and trousers, which latter were gathered in close roundhis lower limbs by a species of drab gaiter that appeared somewhatincongruous with the profession of the man. The only bit of brightcolour about him was a scarlet belt round his waist, from the side ofwhich depended a long knife in a brown leather sheath. A pair of lightshoes and a small round cap, resembling what is styled in these days apork-pie, completed his costume. He was about forty years of age.

  Such was the commander, or captain, or skipper, of thissuspicious-looking schooner--a man pre-eminently fitted for theaccomplishment of much good or the perpetration of great evil.

  As soon as the anchor touched the ground, the captain ordered a smallboat to be lowered, and, leaping into it with two men, one of whom wasour friend John Bumpus, rowed towards the shore.

  "Have you brought your kit with you, John?" inquired the captain, as thelittle boat shot over the smooth waters of the bay.

  "Wot's of it, sir," replied our rugged seaman, holding up a small bundletied in a red cotton handkerchief. "I s'pose our cruise ashore won't bea long one."

  "It will be long for you, my man, at least as far as the schooner isconcerned, for I do not mean to take you aboard again."

  "Not take me aboard agin!" exclaimed the sailor, with a look of surprisewhich quickly degenerated into an angry frown, and thereafter graduallyrelaxed into a broad grin as he continued--"why, capting, wot _do_ youmean to do with me then, for I'm a heavy piece of goods, d'ye see, andcan't be easily moved about without a small touch o' my own consent, youknow."

  Jo Bumpus, as he was fond of styling himself, said this with aserio-comic air of sarcasm, for he was an exception to the general ruleof his fellows. He had little respect for, and no fear of, hiscommander. Indeed, to say truth, (for truth must be told, even thoughthe character of our rugged friend should suffer,) Jo entertained a mostprofound belief in the immense advantage of muscular strength and vigourin general, and of his own prowess in particular. Although not quite sogigantic a man as his captain, he was nearly so, and, being a boldself-reliant fellow, he felt persuaded in his own mind that he couldthrash him, if need were. In fact, Jo was convinced that there was noliving creature under the sun, human or otherwise, that walked upon twolegs, that he could not pommel to death with more or less ease by meansof his fists alone. And in this conviction he was not far wrong. Yetit must not be supposed that Jo Bumpus was a boastful man or a bully.Far from it. He was so thoroughly persuaded of his invincibility, thathe felt there was no occasion to prove it. He therefore followed thenatural bent of his inclinations, which led him at all times to exhibita mild, amiable, and gentle aspect--except, of course, when he wasroused. As occasion for being roused was not wanting in the South Seasin those days, Jo's amiability was frequently put to the test. Hesojourned, while there, in a condition of alternate calm and storm; butriotous joviality ran, like a rich vein, through all his chequered life,and lit up its most sombre phases like gleams of light on an April day.

  "You entered my service with your own consent," replied the captain toJo's last remark, "and you may leave it, with the same consent, wheneveryou choose; but you will please to remember that I did not engage you toserve on board the schooner. Back there you do not go either with orwithout your consent, my fine fellow, and if you are bent on going tosea on your own account--you've got a pair of good arms and legs--youcan swim! Besides," continued the captain, dropping the tone of sarcasmin which this was said, and assuming a more careless and good-naturedair, "you were singing something not long since, if I mistake not, about`farewell to the rolling sea,' which leads me to think you will notobject to a short cruise on shore for a change, especially on such abeautiful island as this is."

  "I'm your man, capting," cried the impulsive seaman, at the same timegiving his oar a pull that well-nigh spun the boat round. "And, to saywots the plain truth, d'ye see, I'm not sorry to ha done with yourschooner, for, although she is as tight a little craft as any man couldwish for to go to sea in, I can't say much for the crew,--saving yourpresence, Dick"--(he added, glancing over his shoulder at thesurly-looking man who pulled the bow oar.) "Of all the rascally set Iever clapped eyes on, they seems to me the worst. If I didn't know youfor a sandal-wood trader, I do believe I'd take ye for a pirate."

  "Don't speak ill of your messmates behind their backs, Jo," said thecaptain with a slight frown. "No good and true man ever does that."

  "No more I do," replied John Bumpus; while a deep red colour suffusedhis bronzed countenance. "No more I do; leastwise if they wos here I'dsay it to their faces, for they're a set of as ill-tongued villains as Iever had the misfortune to--"

  "Silence!" exclaimed the captain, suddenly, in a voice of thunder.

  Few men would have ventured to disobey the command given by such a man,but John Bumpus was one of those few. He did indeed remain silent fortwo seconds, but it was the silence of astonishment.

  "Capting," said he, seriously, "I don't mean no offence, but I'd haveyou to know that I engaged to work for you, not to hold my tongue atyour bidding, d'ye see. There aint the man living as'll make Jo Bumpusshut up w'en he's got a mind to--"

  The captain put an abrupt end to the remarks of his refractory seaman bystarting up suddenly in fierce anger and seizing the tiller, apparentlywith the intent to fell him. He checked himself, however, as suddenly,and, breaking into a loud laugh, cried--"Come, Jo, you must admit thatthere is at least one living man who has made you `shut up' before youhad finished what you'd got to say."

  John Bumpus, who had thrown up his left arm to ward off the anticipatedblow, and dropped his oar in order to clench his right fist, quietlyresumed his oar, and shook his head gravely for nearly a minute, afterwhich he made the following observation:--

  "Capting, I've seed, in my experience o' life, that there are someconstitootions as don't agree with jokin'; an' yours is one on 'em.Now, if you'd take the advice of a plain man, you'd never try it on.You're a grave man by natur', and you're so bad at a joke that a fellercan't quite tell w'en you're a-doin' of it. See, now, I do declare Iwos as near drivin' you right over the stern o' your own boat as couldbe, only by good luck I seed the twinkle in your eye in time."

  "Pull away, my lad," said the captain, in the softest tones of his deepvoice, at the same time looking his reprover straight in the face.

  There was something in the tone in which that simple command was given,and in the look by which it was accompanied; that effectually quelledJohn Bumpus in spite of himself. Violence had no effect on John,because in most cases he was able to meet it with superior violence, andin all cases he was willing to try. But to be put down in this mild waywas perplexing. The words were familiar, the look straightforward
andcommon enough. He could not understand it at all, and, being naturallyof a philosophical turn of mind, he spent the next three minutes in afutile endeavour to analyse his own feelings. Before he had come to anysatisfactory conclusion on the subject, the boat's keel grated on thewhite sand of the shore.

  Now, while all that we have been describing in the last and presentchapters was going on, a very different series of events was takingplace on the coral-island, for there, under the pleasant shade of thecocoa-nut palms, a tall, fair, and handsome youth was walking lightlydown the green slopes towards the shore in anticipation of the arrivalof the schooner, and a naked dark-skinned savage was dogging his steps,winding like a hideous snake among the bushes, and apparently seeking anopportunity to launch the short spear he carried in his hand at hisunsuspecting victim.

  As the youth and the savage descended the mountain-side together, theformer frequently paused when an opening in the rich foliage peculiar tothese beautiful isles enabled him to obtain a clear view of themagnificent bay and its fringing coral reef, on which the swell of thegreat Pacific--so calm and undulating out beyond--fell in tremendousbreakers, with a long, low, solemn roar like distant thunder. As yet noobject broke the surface of the mirror-like bay within the reef.

  Each time the youth paused the savage stopped also, and more than oncehe poised his deadly spear, while his glaring eyeballs shone amid thegreen foliage like those of a tiger. Yet upon each occasion heexhibited signs of hesitation, and finally lowered the weapon, andcrouched into the underwood.

  To any one ignorant of the actors in this scene, the indecision, of thesavage would have appeared unaccountable; for there could be no doubt ofhis desire to slay the fair youth--still less doubt of his ability todart his formidable spear with precision. Nevertheless, there was goodreason for his hesitating, for young Henry Stuart was well known, alikeby settlers and savages, as possessing the swiftest foot, the strongestarm, and the boldest heart in the island, and Keona was not celebratedfor the possession of these qualities in any degree above the average ofhis fellows, although he did undoubtedly exceed them in revenge, hatred,and the like. On one occasion young Stuart had, while defending hismother's house against an attack of the savages, felled Keona with awell-directed blow of his fist. It was, doubtless, out of revenge forthis that the latter now dogged the former through the lonely recessesof the mountain-pass by which he had crossed the island from the littlesettlement in which was his home, and gained the sequestered bay inwhich he expected to find the schooner. Up to this point, however, thesavage had not summoned courage to make the attack, although, with theexception of a hunting-knife, his enemy was altogether unarmed, for heknew that in the event of missing his mark the young man's speed of footwould enable him to outstrip him, while his strength of frame wouldquickly terminate a single combat.

  As the youth gained the more open land near the beach, the possibilityof making a successful cast of the spear became more and more doubtful.Finally the savage shrunk into the bushes and abandoned the pursuit.

  "Not here yet, Master Gascoyne," muttered Henry as he sat down on a rockto rest; for although the six miles of country he had crossed was atrifle, as regarded distance, to a lad of nineteen, the ruggedmountain-path by which he had come would have tried the muscles of a RedIndian, and the nerve of a goat. "You were wont to keep to time betterin days gone by. Truly it seems to me a strange thing that I shouldthus be made a sort of walking post between my mother's house and thisbay, all for the benefit of a man who seems to me no better than heshould be, and whom I don't like, and yet whom I _do_ like in someunaccountable fashion that I don't understand."

  Whatever the youth's thoughts were after giving vent to the foregoingsoliloquy, he kept them to himself. They did not at first appear to beof an agreeable nature, for he frowned once or twice, and struck histhigh with his clenched hand, but gradually a pleasant expression lit uphis manly face as he gazed out upon the sleeping sea, and watched thegorgeous clouds that soon began to rise and cluster round the sun.

  After an hour or so spent in wandering on the beach picking up shells,and gazing wistfully out to sea, Henry Stuart appeared to grow tired ofwaiting, for he laid himself down on the shore, turned his back on theocean, pillowed his head on a tuft of grass, and deliberately went tosleep.

  Now was the time for the savage to wreak his vengeance on his enemy,but, fortunately, that villain, despite his subtlety and cunning, hadnot conceived the possibility of the youth indulging in such anunnatural recreation as a nap in the forenoon. He had, therefore,retired to his native jungle, and during the hour in which Henry wasburied in repose, and in which he might have accomplished his endwithout danger or uncertainty, he was seated in a dark cave moodilyresolving in his mind future plans of villany, and indulging the hopethat on the youth's returning homewards he would be more successful infinding a favourable opportunity to take his life.

  During this same hour it was that our low-hulled little schooner hove insight on the horizon, ran swiftly down before the breeze, cast anchor inthe bay, and sent her boat ashore, as we have seen, with the captain,the surly man called Dick, and our friend John Bumpus.

  It happened that, just as the boat ran under the shelter of a rockypoint and touched the strand, Keona left his cave for the purpose ofobserving what young Stuart was about. He knew that he could not haveretraced his homeward way without passing within sight of his place ofconcealment.

  A glance of surprise crossed his dark visage as he crept to the edge ofthe underwood and saw the schooner at anchor in the bay. This wassucceeded by a fiendish grin of exultation as his eye fell on theslumbering form of the youth. He instantly took advantage of theopportunity; and so deeply was he engrossed with his murderousintention, that he did not observe the captain of the schooner as heturned a projecting rock, and suddenly appeared upon the scene. Thecaptain, however, saw the savage, and instantly drew back, signing, atthe same time, to his two men to keep under cover.

  A second glance shewed him the sleeping form of Henry, and, almostbefore he had time to suspect that foul play was going on, he saw thesavage glide from the bushes to the side of the sleeper, raise hisspear, and poise it for one moment, as if to make sure of sending itstraight to the youth's heart.

  There was not a moment to lose. The captain carried a short carbine inhis hand, with which he took aim at the savage--going down on one kneeto make a surer shot, for the carbine of those days was not to bedepended on at a distance much beyond a hundred yards; and as the actorsin this scene were separated by even more than that distance, there wasa considerable chance of missing the savage and hitting the young man.

  This, however, was not a moment to calculate chances. The captainpulled the trigger, and the crash of the shot was followed by a howlfrom the savage, as his uplifted arm dropt to his side, and the spearfell across the face of the sleeper. Henry instantly awoke, and sprangup with the agility of a panther. Before he could observe what hadoccurred, Keona leapt into the bushes and disappeared. Henry at oncebounded after him; and the captain, giving vent to a lusty cheer, rushedacross the beach, and sprang into the forest, closely followed by surlyDick and John Bumpus, whose united cheers of excitement and shouts ofdefiance awoke the echoes of the place with clamorous discords.