Part 19 (1/2)

Saying this, Rodrigues turned toward the roundhouse; but instead of going into the cabin as before, he ascended the steps to the p.o.o.p deck, over which there hung a tent of fine canvas.

Without regarding whither she went, Lady Biddy accompanied him, being distracted with the ringing of the negro's cry in her ear, and concerned only for his release.

Being come upon this deck, Rodrigues, standing in the gangway and facing my lady, said:

”Lady Biddy, the man hanging from the yard-arm has been strung up in order that I may know who stabbed him. I must get that information for my own safety and the safety of my company, for the hand that struck Tonga might strike me. You see, I am quite reasonable in the view I take of things.”

”Hark!” cried Lady Biddy, as another scream came from the black.

”Yes, he is in terrible agony,” says Rodrigues, ”and he will continue to suffer while I am ignorant of the one fact I want to know. He will be taken down the moment I know who stabbed him. Will you tell me?”

Now my lady was in a sore strait, for she could not tell him it was I, and yet by not telling him must she prolong the terrible torment of the black.

”He must hang there till he dies of his pain,” continues Rodrigues (after watching my lady's embarra.s.sed face for a minute), ”if I am kept ignorant. On the other hand, I promise you he shall be amply recompensed for his pangs if I find out.”

Lady Biddy heard this, yet little did she reck what Rodrigues intended for the black's recompense.

”Suppose I did it with my own hand,” says she, eagerly.

Rodrigues fetched from his pocket a mariner's jack-knife, and says he, ”Is this yours, madam?”

”No,” says she, looking at it in perplexity.

”You don't know the look of it?” he asks.

She shook her head with misgiving.

”Then,” says he, ”I can not suppose that you did it with your own hand, for this is the knife with which Tonga was stabbed. Come, Lady Biddy, if you know who did this thing, why not tell at once?”

”How should I know?” cries Lady Biddy.

”Because he is your friend,” says Rodrigues, slowly.

”There is the whole of my company,” adds he, waving his hand toward the deck. ”Not one of those fellows would have moved a hand to save you from the l.u.s.t of Tonga. The only one on this s.h.i.+p, except myself, who would preserve you is” (dropping his voice and leaning forward) ”down there”; and saying this he pointed with his finger to the cabin beneath them.

CHAPTER XXV.

LADY BIDDY IS SET ASh.o.r.e, BUT LITTLE MERCY THEREIN.

Hearing these words, Lady Biddy was thrown into such disorder that even had Rodrigues been of dull perception he might have read in her distracted countenance justification of his suspicions. Stepping aside, he fetches a seat placed there for his convenience, and sets it down beside Lady Biddy, who, for want of strength to stand up, sank into it.

Then going to the rail, he calls to his boatswain, bidding him to let down Tonga, as he had discovered who it was that stabbed him.

”But,” adds he, ”no man is to stir from his post till he has my further command.”

Whereupon the black was lowered down and hauled upon deck, where he lay for some time helpless and supine.

While this was doing, Rodrigues turns again to Lady Biddy, who was now come to herself again somewhat, and says he: