Part 18 (1/2)
”You're a good lad, Peter,” said the slaver. ”I've told you that before, but I repeat it now.”
Robert then arrayed himself in dry garments. He was strangely and wonderfully attired in a s.h.i.+rt of fine linen with lace ruffles, a short, embroidered jacket of purple velvet, purple velvet knee-breeches, silk stockings and pumps, or low shoes, with large silver buckles. It was very gorgeous, and, just then, very comfortable.
”You look the dandy to the full, Peter,” said the slaver. ”The clothes have hung here more than a year. They came from a young Spaniard who had the misfortune to resist too much when we took the s.h.i.+p that carried him. They've come to a good use again.”
Robert shuddered, but in a moment or two he forgot the origin of his new raiment. He had become too much inured to deadly peril to be excessively fastidious. Besides, he was feeling far better. Warmth returned to his body and the beat of the rain outside the house increased the comfort within.
”I think, Peter,” said the slaver, ”that you'd better go to sleep.
You've been through a lot, and you don't realize how near exhaustion you are.”
Without giving a thought to the question of food, which must present itself before long, Robert lay down on the floor and fell almost at once into a sound slumber.
CHAPTER VII
THE PIRATE'S WARNING
When the lad awoke it was quite dark in the house, but there was no sound of rain. He went to the door and looked out upon a fairly clear night. The storm was gone and he heard only a light wind rustling through palms. There was no thunder of beating surf in the distance. It was a quiet sky and a quiet island.
He went back and looked at the slaver. The man was asleep on his couch, but he was stirring a little, and he was hot with fever. Robert felt pity for him, cruel and blood-stained though he knew him to be. Besides, he was the only human companion he had, and he did not wish to be left alone there. But he did not know what to do just then, and, lying down on the floor, he went to sleep again.
When he awoke the second time day had come, and the slaver too was awake, though looking very weak.
”I've been watching you quite a while, Peter,” he said. ”You must have slept fifteen or sixteen hours. Youth has a wonderful capacity for slumber and restoration. I dare say you're now as good as ever, and wondering where you'll find your breakfast. Well, when I built this house I didn't neglect the plenis.h.i.+ngs of it. Open the door next to you and you'll find boucan inside. 'Boucan,' as you doubtless know, is dried beef, and from it we got our name the buccaneers, because in the beginning we lived so much upon dried beef. Enough is in that closet to last us a month, and there are herds of wild cattle on the island, an inexhaustible larder.”
”But we can't catch wild cattle with our hands,” said Robert.
The slaver laughed.
”You don't think, Peter,” he said, ”that when I built a house here and furnished it I neglected some of the most necessary articles. In the other closet you'll find weapons and ammunition. But deal first with the boucan.”
Robert opened the closet and found the boucan packed away in sheets or layers on shelves, and at once he became ravenously hungry.
”On a lower shelf,” said the slaver, ”you'll find flint and steel, and with them it shouldn't be hard for a wilderness lad like you to start a fire. There are also kettles, skillets and pans, and I think you know how to do the rest.”
Robert went to work on a fire. The wood, which was abundant outside, was still damp, but he had a strong clasp knife and he whittled a pile of dry shavings which he succeeded in igniting with the flint and steel, though it was no light task, requiring both patience and skill. But the fire was burning at last and he managed to make in one of the kettles some soup of the dried beef, which he gave to the captain. The man had no appet.i.te, but he ate a little and declared that he felt stronger.
Then Robert broiled many strips for himself over the coals and ate ravenously. He would have preferred a greater variety of food, but it was better than a castaway had a right to expect.
His breakfast finished, he continued his examination of the house, which was furnished with many things, evidently captured from s.h.i.+ps. He found in one of the closets a fine fowling piece, a hunting rifle, two excellent muskets, several pistols, ammunition for all the fire-arms and a number of edged weapons.
”You see, Peter, you're fitted for quite an active defense should enemies come,” said the slaver. ”You'll admit, I think, that I've been a good housekeeper.”
”Good enough,” said Peter. ”Are there any medicines?”
”You'll find some salves and ointments on the top shelf in the second closet, and you can make a poultice for this hurt of mine. Between you and me, Peter, I've less pain, but much more weakness, which is a bad sign.”
”Oh, you'll be well in a few days,” said Robert cheerfully. ”One wound won't carry off a man as strong as you are.”
”One wound always suffices, provided it goes in deep enough, but I thank you for your rosy predictions, Peter. I think your good wishes are genuinely sincere.”