Part 9 (1/2)

We crawled flat on our bellies round the edge of the cup. The trees had gone, and the only cover was the long gra.s.s and the low sumach bushes.

We moved a foot at a time, and once the Indian turned in his tracks and crawled to the left almost into the open. My sense of smell, as sharp almost as a dog's, told me that horses were picketed in the gra.s.s in front of us. Our road took us within, hearing of the speaker, and though I dared not raise my head, I could hear the soft Highland voice of my friend. He seemed now to be speaking humorously, for a laugh came from the hearers.

Once at the crossing of a little brook, I pulled a stone into the water, and we instantly lay as still as death. But men preoccupied with their own concerns do not keep anxious watch, and our precautions were needless. Presently we had come to the far side of the shelf abreast of the boulder on which he sat who seemed to be the chief figure. Now I could raise my head, and what I saw made my eyes dazzle.

Red Ringan sat on a stone with a naked cutla.s.s across his knees. In front stood a man, the most evil-looking figure that I had ever beheld.

He was short but very st.u.r.dily built, and wore a fine laced coat not made for him, which hung to his knees, and was stretched tight at the armpits. He had a heavy pale face, without hair on it. His teeth had gone, all but two buck-teeth which stuck out at each corner of his mouth, giving him the look of a tusker. I could see his lips moving uneasily in the glare of the pine boughs, and his eyes darted about the company as if seeking countenance.

Ringan was speaking very gravely, with his eyes s.h.i.+ning like sword points. The others were every make and manner of fellow, from well-shaped and well-clad gentlemen to loutish seamen in leather jerkins. Some of the faces were stained dark with pa.s.sion and crime, some had the air of wild boys, and some the hard sobriety of traders.

But one and all were held by the dancing eyes of the man that spoke.

”What is the judgment,” he was saying, ”of the Free Companions? By the old custom of the Western Seas I call upon you, gentlemen all, for your decision.”

Then I gathered that the evil-faced fellow had offended against some one of their lawless laws, and was on his trial.

No one spoke for a moment, and then one grizzled seaman raised his hand, ”The dice must judge,” he said. ”He must throw for his life against the six.”

Another exclaimed against this. ”Old wives' folly,” he cried, with an oath. ”Let Cosh go his ways, and swear to amend them. The Brethren of the Coast cannot be too nice in these little matters. We are not pursy justices or mooning girls.”

But he had no support. The verdict was for the dice, and a seaman brought Ringan a little ivory box, which he held out to the prisoner.

The latter took it with shaking hand, as if he did not know how to use it.

”You will cast thrice,” said Ringan. ”Two even throws, and you are free.”

The man fumbled a little and then cast. It fell a four.

A second time he threw, and the dice lay five.

In that wild place, in the black heart of night, the terror of the thing fell on my soul. The savage faces, the deadly purpose in Ringan's eyes, the fumbling miscreant before him, were all heavy with horror. I had no doubt that Cosh was worthy of death, but this cold and merciless treatment froze my reason. I watched with starting eyes the last throw, and I could not hear Ringan declare it. But I saw by the look on Cosh's face what it had been.

”It is your privilege to choose your manner of death and to name your successor,” I heard Ringan say.

But Cosh did not need the invitation. Now that his case was desperate, the courage in him revived. He was fully armed, and in a second he had drawn a knife and leaped for Ringan's throat.

Perhaps he expected it, perhaps he had learned the art of the wild beast so that his body was answerable to his swiftest wish. I do not know, but I saw Cosh's knife crash on the stone and splinter, while Ringan stood by his side.

”You have answered my question,” he said quietly. ”Draw your cutla.s.s, man. You have maybe one chance in ten thousand for your life.”

I shut my eyes as I heard the steel clash. Then very soon came silence.

I looked again, and saw Ringan wiping his blade on a bunch of gra.s.s, and a body lying before him.

He was speaking--speaking, I suppose, about the successor to the dead man, whom two negroes had promptly removed. Suddenly at my shoulder Shalah gave the hoot of an owl, followed at a second's interval by a second and a third. I suppose it was some signal agreed with Ringan, but at the time I thought the man had gone mad.

I was not very sane myself. What I had seen had sent a cold grue through me, for I had never before seen a man die violently, and the circ.u.mstances of the place and hour made the thing a thousandfold more awful. I had a black fright on me at that whole company of merciless men, and especially at Ringan, whose word was law to them. Now the worst effect of fear is that it obscures good judgment, and makes a man in desperation do deeds of a foolhardiness from which at other times he would shrink. All I remembered in that moment was that I had to reach Ringan, and that Mercer had told me that the safest plan was to show a bold front. I never remembered that I had also been bidden to follow Shalah, nor did I reflect that a secret conclave of pirates was no occasion to choose for my meeting. With a sudden impulse I forced myself to my feet, and stalked, or rather shambled, into the light.

”Ninian,” I cried, ”Ninian Campbell! I'm here to claim your promise.”

The whole company turned on me, and I was gripped by a dozen hands and flung on the ground. Ringan came forward to look, but there was no recognition in his eyes. Some one cried out, ”A spy!” and there was a fierce murmur of voices, which were meaningless to me, for fear had got me again, and I had neither ears nor voice. Dimly it seemed that he gave some order, and I was trussed up with ropes. Then I was conscious of being carried out of the glare of torches into the cool darkness.