Part 14 (2/2)
”They don't appear to be interested in us,” he said to the captain.
”No,” replied the man, ”but they should be. They show a lack of that curiosity which I told you is necessary at sea, and it is my duty to overtake them and tell them so. We must not have any incautious s.h.i.+ps sailing in these strange waters.”
Ten minutes later he called the mate and gave a command. Cutla.s.ses and muskets with powder and ball were put at convenient points. Every man carried at least one pistol and a dirk in his belt. The captain himself took two pistols and a cutla.s.s.
”Merely a wise precaution, Peter,” he said, ”in case our peaceful neighbor, to whom we wish to give a useful warning, should turn out to be a pirate.”
Robert in the moonlight saw his eyes gleam and his lips curve once more into a smile. He had seen enough of men in crucial moments to know that the slaver was happy, that he was rejoicing in some great triumph that he expected to achieve. In spite of himself he s.h.i.+vered and looked at the stranger. The tracery of masts and spars was growing clearer and the dim figures of men were visible on her decks.
”Oh, we'll meet later,” said the captain exultantly. ”Don't deceive yourself about that. There is a swift wind behind us and the speed of both s.h.i.+ps is increasing.”
Robert looked over the side. The sea was running in white caps and above his head the wind was whistling. The schooner rolled and his footing grew unsteady, but it was only a fine breeze to the sailors, just what they loved. Suddenly the captain burst into a great laugh.
”The fools! the fools!” he exclaimed. ”As I live, they're pleasuring here in the most dangerous seas in the world! Music in the moonlight!”
”What do you mean?” asked Robert, astonished.
”Just what I say! A madness hath o'ercome 'em! Take a look through the gla.s.ses, Peter, and see a n.o.ble sight, but a strange one at such a time.”
He clapped the gla.s.ses to Robert's eyes. The other s.h.i.+p, suddenly came near to them, and grew fourfold in size. Every detail of her stood out sharp and vivid in the moonlight, a stout craft with all sails set to catch the good wind, a fine merchantman by every token, nearing the end of a profitable voyage. Discipline was not to say somewhat relaxed, but at least kindly, the visible evidence of it an old sailor sitting with his back against the mast playing vigorously upon a violin, while a dozen other men stood around listening.
”Look at 'em, Peter. Look at 'em,” laughed the captain. ”It's a most n.o.ble sight! Watch the old fellow playing the fiddle, and I'll lay my eyes that in a half minute or so you'll have some of the sailormen dancing.”
Robert shuddered again. The glee in the slaver's voice was wicked. The cynical jesting tone was gone and in its place was only unholy malice.
But Robert was held by the scene upon the deck of the stranger.
”Yes, two of the sailors have begun to dance,” he said. ”They're young men and clasping each other about the shoulders, they're doing a hornpipe. I can see the others clapping their hands and the old fellow plays harder than ever.”
”Ah, idyllic! Most idyllic, I vow!” exclaimed the captain. ”Who would have thought, Peter, to have beheld such a sight in these seas! 'Tis a childhood dream come back again! 'Tis like the lads and maids sporting on the village green! Ah, the lambs! the innocents! There is no war for them. It does my soul good, Peter, to behold once more such innocent trust in human nature.”
The shudder, more violent than ever, swept over Robert again. He felt that he was in the presence of something unclean, something that exhaled the foul odor of the pit. The man had become wholly evil, and he shrank away.
”Steady, Peter,” said the slaver. ”Why shouldn't you rejoice with the happy lads on yon s.h.i.+p? Think of your pleasant fortune to witness such a play in the West Indian seas, the merry sailormen dancing to the music in the moonlight, the s.h.i.+p sailing on without care, and we in our schooner bearing down on 'em to secure our rightful share in the festival. Ah, Peter, we must go on board, you and I and Carlos and more stout fellows and sing and dance with 'em!”
Robert drew back again. It may have been partly the effect of the moonlight, and partly the mirror of his own mind through which he looked, but the captain's face had become wholly that of a demon. The close-set eyes seemed to draw closer together than ever, and they were flas.h.i.+ng. His hand, sinewy and strong, settled upon the b.u.t.t of a pistol in his belt, but, in a moment, he raised it again and took the gla.s.ses from Robert. After a long look he exclaimed:
”They dream on! They fiddle and dance with their whole souls, Peter, my lad, and such trusting natures shall be rewarded!”
Robert could see very well now without the aid of the gla.s.ses. The sailor who sat on a coil of rope with his back against a mast, playing the violin, was an old man, his head bare, his long white hair flying.
It was yet too far away for his face to be disclosed, but Robert knew that his expression must be rapt, because his att.i.tude showed that his soul was in his music. The two young sailors, with their arms about the shoulders of each other, were still dancing, and two more had joined them.
The crowd of spectators had thickened. Evidently it was a s.h.i.+p with a numerous crew, perhaps a rich merchantman out of Bristol or Boston. No flag was flying over her. That, however, was not unusual in those seas, and in times of war when a man waited to see the colors of his neighbor before showing his own. But Robert was surprised at the laxity of discipline on the stranger. They should be up and watching, inquiring into the nature of the schooner that was drawing so near.
”And now, Peter,” said the captain, more exultant than ever, ”you shall see an unveiling! It is not often given to a lad like you, a landsman, to behold such a dramatic act at sea, a scene so powerful and complete that it might have been devised by one of the great Elizabethans! Ho, Carlos, make ready!”
He gave swift commands and the mate repeated them as swiftly to the men.
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