Part 9 (2/2)

There in the dimly lighted cabin, Levy with his arms bound behind him, had watched the game of dice as calmly as though his life did not lie in the hands of the two who played for such a ghastly stake. Out on the deck, the mutineers drank and jested and sang uproariously in their new freedom. He wondered if that were to be the end: a short plank, a blow to thrust him into the dark waves of the ocean which he had loved so well. Uriah closed his eyes, swaying a little; but he was quite calm, even smiling, when Jones sneered in disgust:

”Born to hang, will never drown. You win, Martin.” He pushed the dice aside and rose to release Levy from his bonds. ”Here you,” he called to several sailors loitering near the door, ”get a small boat ready and set him adrift.”

”And put in a pair of oars,” added Martin. ”Give the lad a fighting chance, can't you? And some bread and a jug of water, too.” Somehow he felt suddenly uncomfortable before the boy's quiet gaze. ”Aren't you going to thank me?” he half bl.u.s.tered.

”I am an American gentleman,” answered Levy, very slowly, ”and I hold no speech with outlaws and pirates.” And before the astonished mutineer could answer him he followed the sailors from the cabin.

And now his perilous journey was over at last, although his frail boat had been destroyed on the rocks before he reached the sh.o.r.e. An excellent swimmer, Levy had stripped off his shoes and coat and jumped into the water. Cleaving the waves with long powerful strokes, he soon reached land, where for several hours he lay wet and exhausted, so bitterly discouraged that he almost wished Jones had prevailed and cut his throat or forced him to walk the plank. Better to have fallen asleep beneath the waves, he thought, than try to live, a hopeless and a defeated man.

It was now past sunset and Levy mechanically set about building a fire to warm his aching limbs and keep off any prowling beasts while he slept. Scooping a hollow in the sand beyond the reach of the tide, he gathered dry drift wood which he finally lighted by the aid of a spark struck from two stones. He was hungry now and even more anxious for a smoke than for food; at that moment he hated the crew less for making off with the vessel in which he had had a third interest than for casting him on this deserted sh.o.r.e without even the solace of his evening pipe. Muttering angrily, he leaned over the fire to stir the blaze; as he did so the damp string about his neck swung free and he noticed the little lucky stone still fastened to the end.

Strangely enough, the sight of the pebble he had worn as a charm for so many years gave him courage. His bold spirit which for a little while had lain bruised and discouraged grew strong again; he felt that he was not the man to submit tamely to treachery and misfortune. He must win back all that he had lost that day, not only the stolen vessel but his self-respect. He must not allow himself beaten.

Crouching by the fire, his chin resting on his clenched fists, his eyes on the flames, the boy vowed not to rest until he had defeated his enemies and secured what was his own. ”I'm strong and young,” he told himself, confidently, ”and so far my luck has never failed me.”

And he fingered the little stone on the string about his neck. At last the fire died down, but there was no one to stir the dying embers, for Uriah Levy had fallen asleep upon the sands, the luck stone still clutched between his strong, brown fingers, a confident smile upon his lips.

In the days that followed, it was not an easy thing for young Levy to smile confidently in the faces of those who predicted certain failure in his undertaking. ”Other merchants and commanders have suffered from pirates and mutinous crews before your day,” he was informed at every turn. ”Better s.h.i.+p again and look for better luck.”

Kindly and well-meant advice, but Levy would have none of it. He still smiled, though now somewhat grimly, as he went from friend to friend, insisting that he would not fail to bring his piratical crew to justice. And so confident was he that he would eventually find a backer, that he even spent several days roaming about the wharves in order to pick out a trustworthy crew, should he find anyone willing to send him to sea on his own vessel again.

”Why, Uriah Levy,” exclaimed a deep voice as a stout sailor came toward him. ”You surely haven't forgotten me?”

”You're Ned Allison,” said Levy after a long look had convinced him that the slender fisher boy had grown into the burly man before him.

”And do you follow the sea now as you planned?”

”Yes. My poor father died two years ago. So I sent mother to live with her sister and here I am. I just hit port last week and now I'm ready to leave again as soon as I find a good berth. Just can't feel at home on dry land anymore.”

Levy nodded understandingly. ”Take me to a good tavern around here,”

he suggested. ”I want to talk to you.”

Allison willingly led the way to a tavern in the neighborhood much frequented by sailors, chatting lightly as they walked. Levy hardly knew him for the shy, taciturn playfellow of his boyhood. He sipped his ale slowly as he studied Ned's bright, eager face. Somehow he felt encouraged at the thought that he might induce Allison to accompany him, should he set out on what seemed to be a hopeless voyage.

”And what have you been doing?” asked Allison, pausing for breath.

”The last I heard of you, you were master of the 'George Was.h.i.+ngton'

and part owner. Not that you look very lively and prosperous,” he added with a keen glance.

Levy briefly related the story of the mutiny and his hope to pursue and punish his mutinous crew. ”And I'll do it, too,” he added, pa.s.sionately. ”Though I suppose you, like the rest, think it's a mad venture,” he ended, doubtfully.

Allison put down his mug before replying. ”I can't say that I do,” he answered slowly. ”Though it's risking a good deal if you catch up to the dogs and they sink your s.h.i.+p in the scuffle. You couldn't afford that, could you?”

”I'm not thinking of the money alone,” insisted Levy. ”Nor of revenge; although I've been treated pretty shabbily and they'll pay for it, if I live long enough to track them down. But it's a matter of conscience with me, too, Allison. I'm going to do my share in making the sea clean of piracy. Maybe there won't be a war in our time, though they say there's trouble threatening with England, but I'll serve my country in this way at least. Want to help me?” and he leaned across the table, looking straight into Ned's eyes.

”I'd rather s.h.i.+p with you as master than any man I know, Sir,”

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