Part 34 (2/2)
The way was now clear, I felt, for a free investigation of that region at the end of the path. And I must hurry if I was to go far before night should throw its black mantle over the scene; time enough to summon the others later.
So back I went, boldly, over the ridge. I moved as rapidly as my impromptu crutch and one good leg would carry me, till I pa.s.sed round a turn of the path, and all but collided with a queer figure of a man. He plumped down on his knees and began to beg mercy.
”Oh, sor! Don't kill me, sor! I wasn't hafter spyin' on ye, sor! I was only afraid ye'd forget to bring me the morphine, sor! I--”
The creature opened his eyes, which had gone closed, likely in antic.i.p.ation of the dreaded gunshot, that for some reason was now due to put a short stop to his miserable existence. He had taken me for Duran, it was plain, and the opening of his bleared eyes had shown him his mistake. Undersized, thin-lipped, and apparently toothless, was this slight specimen of a being; and his mouth, eyes, head, shoulders, and limbs twitched and jerked in abominable fas.h.i.+on. Indeed he fairly danced on the ground like those jigging toys that are set going by winding a bit of clock-work. I afterwards learned that it was only at times of great emotion that this extreme agitation of all the muscles on his slight bones were set in motion; but there was scarce a minute of the day that he was not at some form of grimace or contortion.
Taking courage of this being's evident fear, I demanded, ”Who are you?”
”My nyme is Handy Awkins,” he replied. By which I came to know he meant--”Andy Hawkins.”
”I don't know 'ow you came 'ere,” he said, the contortions of his body quieting considerably, ”but I sye, ye won't tell the boss ye sawr me down 'ere?”
”On condition _you_ won't tell 'the boss' you saw _me anywhere_, I won't tell him I saw you down here,” I bargained.
His writhings now were those of joy. And he tried to set into a smile that slit of a mouth of his.
”Yer 'and on it!” he cried. ”We're on the syme side o' the fence, ain't we? An' we'll be great Bobs together, you an' I, if ever we get out o'
this 'ell of a 'ole--I don't care if you are a n.i.g.g.e.r. Eh Tommy?--I'll tell ye, I'm the only white man in this 'ere part o' the world, that I am, 'ceptin' the boss, and--” here he whispered the news--”'ee's only painted black, to fool the likes o' you.”
CHAPTER XXV
WE CONSORT WITH A PICKPOCKET
I was not slow to perceive that this Andy Hawkins was, in some manner, an unwilling slave of Duran; and as such, might prove a more or less valuable ally to my party. Without giving him more information than that my party was a strong one, I got out of him something of his story. It seemed that something near two years back he had fallen in with Duran in one of the British islands.
”The police hofficers in that town,” said Hawkins, ”were 'aving a sharp eye on me. Some gents 'ad missed their purses, ye see.” And Hawkins winked slyly. ”I was runnin' short o' the blunt,” (he meant money) ”and I was gettin' a little of the rhino out of some o' Munseer Duran's n.i.g.g.e.rs by way o' the three-sh.e.l.l game, when sudden along comes Munseer Duran and hoffers to turn me over to the police. But 'ee ends by taking me on for a job on 'is s.h.i.+p.
”Then the next day I was to go on board his s.h.i.+p, and 'ee sends one o'
his sailors to me in town. I 'as all my worl'ly goods I could hide distributed about under my clothes--I 'ad to leave my portmanty, bein'
as 'ow I was owin' my landlord a pretty penny, an' I was takin' French leave.
”Well, this n.i.g.g.e.r sailor showed me a man an' a kid walkin' down the street, an' said for me to follow them down that way an' I would come up with Duran an' the rest o' the bunch, an' be taken on the s.h.i.+p. So I follers the man an' kid, and they goes into the park by the edge o' the town.
”They goes out o' sight behind the bushes. And then next I know I 'ears a yell; and next, I see Duran an' some o' his n.i.g.g.e.rs, an' 'ee 'ands one a long knife, and I see one n.i.g.g.e.r 'olding the kid. And Duran tells me to run for my life with the n.i.g.g.e.rs. An' so we dodge into the woods out o' town. And we don't stop for ten mile, an' I'm almost dead, an' then that's in some thick bush near the water. And at night a boat comes ash.o.r.e after us--kid and all.
”When we gets on the s.h.i.+p the boss is in the cabin. And 'ee shows me a printed bill that offers one thousand pounds for the capture of a man known as Handy 'Awkins, wanted for the murder of a respected citizen and the kidnappin' o' a child.
”When I read that bill my knees just let me down to the deck. I see 'ow it was; Duran knifes the man, steals the kid, and 'as me to run; and 'ee stays be'ind to 'elp put the blyme on me. And I 'ave never done no worse than to snitch a purse now an' then, when I was 'ard up; an' I never 'urt anyone in my life.”
Although I experienced disgust for this ill-favored being, who was telling me his hard luck tale, I felt some sense of pity as well; and above all, I could have gloried in the spectacle of that inexplicable fiend, Duran, being slowly tortured--drawn limb from limb. And I fairly ground my teeth as I thought again of how I had seen him mixing with clean folk, and his blood-stained hands touching the fingers of mothers and daughters.
”'Ee took me ash.o.r.e one night,” continued Hawkins, ”and 'ee tied a rag on my eyes, an' led me through bushes an' water, an' let me down by ropes. And 'ee set me to work with a n.i.g.g.e.r at the minin'; an' many's the time 'ee 'as laid the lash on me. An' w'en he see I 'ad no strength to work without the drug 'ee brought me some. An' there's times, if I 'adn't 'id some away, I know I'd die; for 'ee'd forget sometimes to bring the dope. Oh, I tell ye it's hall as keeps me alive!”
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