CHAPTER XXIII.
THE WRITING IN THE BOOK.
Gilbert saw the sudden change that had come into Timothy's countenance,but he paid little heed to it, for his own attention had been attractedby something else, something that the light of dawn had disclosed uponthe sea not a cable's length away from where he and his two companionswere floating about on that log of the lost galleon's mast.
Gripping Timothy's shoulders with his two hands, he cried aloud:
"Look you, Tim! Look! A ship!"
And at that instant Philip Oglander's eyes rested also upon the objectwhich had attracted Gilbert.
Timothy craned his head round, and saw the ship's huge bulk heavinglazily upon the sea, with a glint of light upon a piece of brass thatedged her forecastle rail. Her bow was towards them. Her masts were allgone, and there was no sign of life upon her decks. As she rose lazilyupon the waves the lower planks of her hull were seen to be thicklyencrusted with barnacles.
But Timothy was for the time being very little concerned with the ship.There was now a hope of safety, and with that hope he was satisfied. Buthis discovery that Philip Oglander was now a companion of their strangeposition filled him with a feeling of dismay, for he knew that Philipwas no friend to Gilbert any more than to himself, and there wassomething about the lad that made him uncomfortable, while yet there wasof course no reason to fear him. Touching Gilbert on the shoulder Timsigned to him to turn his head. Gilbert obeyed, and saw his cousin, andwondered how it had come to pass that he was here. His wondermentcontinued throughout the whole morning, for it was still impossible tocarry on any conversation, on account not only of the noise of thestorm, but also of the danger of moving and of being thrown off the sparinto the sea.
At mid-day the wind fell and the sun came out. They were no nearer tothe ship than they had been in the early morning. All through theafternoon the lads watched the labouring hulk, but even when the sun hadset they could not be sure whether the distance between her andthemselves had increased or diminished. That next night seemed to be afull year's time of endurance and cold and hunger, and their onlycomfort was in the consciousness that the waves were gradually becomingless in size and that the wind's force had abated.
On the next morning it was seen that the ship was a little nearer; shewas indeed so close that every detail of her structure could bedistinguished. She was still bow on, as the mariners say, and hertowering after-castle could be seen high above the level of her forwardbulwarks. Something about her--the tangle of green and brown sea-weedclinging to her bulging bows, the thick crust of barnacles below herwater-line, and a white mess of guano along the edge of her bulwarks andabout the lips of her chase-guns--seemed to indicate that she had beendrifting for a long time unattended. It was clear that she had beendeserted. It was equally clear that she had not formed one of either DonAlonzo's fleet from Spain or of the fleet of treasure-ships from theWest Indies.
"Dost think we might get some food in her, Tim, if so be we could winour way aboard?" asked Gilbert.
Timothy shook his head.
"Haply we might," said he gravely; "but haply we might not. Yet even tobe upon her decks would be some comfort; for at the least we might thenstretch our legs and run about until some warmth came into us."
Philip Oglander drew himself close behind Gilbert, and leaning over himcalled out to Timothy Trollope:
"Canst swim, Master Trollope?" he questioned.
Timothy nodded. "Why?" he asked.
"Because," returned Philip, "there is some rope here, which one mightbind about one's body, and so, swimming to the ship, haul this mastalongside."
"I have already bethought me of that," said Timothy; "but the rope isnot long enough. A better plan were for you and me to lay ourselves inthe water at the mast's side, and so, clinging to it, paddle with ourfeet until we bring it near. Then, when we be close enough, I wouldindeed swim with the rope."
This suggestion was agreed upon, and Timothy and Philip put themselvesone at either side of the mast and propelled it along; not very quickly,it is true, for with all their efforts it was but small way that theycould get into the heavy log. Yet if it was only inch by inch that theymoved it, this was something. They laboured all through the morning, andat mid-day they had the satisfaction of knowing that they had lessenedthe distance between them and the ship by at least half a dozen yards.Meanwhile Gilbert gathered all the pieces of rope that were wound aboutthe mast and spliced them together; and when this was done his twocompanions converted it into a hawser, and binding an end of it abouttheir bodies swam towards the ship, towing the mast behind them. Thusthey made better progress, and in the evening, while the sun was settingin a rack of clouds, they had brought themselves under the vessel'slarboard bow.
Gilbert Oglander, waiting until a wave should lift him within reach,caught at a line of rope that hung from the ship's broken bowsprit. Bythis he swarmed up. Timothy and Philip followed, and at last, aftergreat difficulty, all three of them stood upon her deck.
It was covered with the refuse of sea-birds. The deck guns were whitewith guano. Looking aft to the incline of her poop-deck they saw thecompanion hatch of the cabin, and this suggested that in the cabinitself they might find something that would serve as food. Timothy ledthe way down to the main-deck. In a coil of rope on one of the closedhatchways he caught sight of two white eggs. He leapt to them, and tookone of them in his hand, giving it to Gilbert; the other he gave toPhilip.
"God grant that they be fresh," said he.
Philip tapped his egg on one of the stanchions, chipping off a littlepiece of the shell. With a muttered Spanish curse he dropped the eggupon the deck, and stamped his foot upon the shrivelled, half-formedlittle sea-gull that the shell had enclosed.
Gilbert bent down to break the other egg on a corner of the hatchcovering. As he did so he caught sight of something that glittered onthe deck--a small square of yellow metal about the size of his hand. Hepicked it up and examined it.
"Why, 'tis gold!" said he.
"Ay," agreed Timothy, "and there be other pieces the same as it. Look!"he added, pointing to the scuppers. And there Gilbert saw at least adozen other little bars of gold.
Philip saw them also, and darted towards them, gathering them togetherwith miserly avarice.
"Come," said Timothy, "let us go below and seek for food. I fear methere is little hope of our finding any, but it may be that we can comeupon a few grains of corn or else a crust of old bread."
He led the way aft to a door under the quarter-deck, and pushed it open.A dry, mouldy smell met him as he entered into the darkness. He feltabout with his hands, and stepped cautiously until he found himself atthe head of a narrow staircase. Step by step he went down. The stairscreaked under him.
"'Tis all well," he said, looking back at Gilbert, who had hesitated tofollow. "There is another door here, if I could but find the handle. Ah,'tis here!"
He turned the handle, and a ray of light fell upon him. Gilbert was soonat his heels, and they entered together into a spacious cabin, which, inspite of its dank and mouldy atmosphere, bore still some signs of pastluxury. At its farther end was a row of square port-holes, at each ofwhich there was a small brass cannon, richly chased and ornamented. Thepanels around the cabin were of finely carved oak, with figures ofsaints and quaint devices and Latin legends. There were curtains ofcrimson velvet, and in the corners were little shelves of carved oakupon which stood goblets of silver and gold. Facing the port-holes therewas a large mirror, black now, and dulled by the damp atmosphere. Aroundthe sides stood large oak chests, which seemed to have served as seats;and in the middle of the floor, which was covered with the remains ofwhat had once been a handsome Turkey carpet, there was a large oaktable.
It was this table upon which Timothy Trollope's eyes first rested as heentered. It was strewn with jars and candlesticks, cups and dishes, allof them made of solid gold, and in their midst, scattered about likecorn on a barn floor, were hundreds of
many-coloured precious stonesthat sparkled in the light.
"Food! food!" cried Timothy, casting his hungry eyes about him.
"Haply there will be some in here," said Gilbert; and he strode towardsone of the chests whose lid was partly open. He looked within. "Alas!"he cried, "it is only gold!"
Timothy passed to one of the others. It was locked. He passed to thenext and opened it. "No," said he, "'tis only money!" At the fartherend of the cabin one of the chests had fallen asunder like a rotten sackof grain, and the floor was strewn with gold coins.
"Here is a cupboard," cried Gilbert, turning the rusty key which wasstill in the lock. But the shelves were filled with daggers, their haftsstudded with gems, and with pistols of many design.
Under the table a square of the carpet was turned back, revealing atrap-door. Gilbert caught hold of the ring-bolt and pulled it up andlooked down into the darkness. As the ship rolled, he thought he heardthe rushing of water. Taking up a handful of doubloons, he dropped themthrough the opening. They splashed into water.
"Prithee, where is Philip?" asked Timothy. "Wherefore hath he not comewith us?"
"I left him on the deck," answered Gilbert.
"Then I pray you let us return to him," said Timothy, "for I have foundsome four tallow candles, and we must share them with him. They are buta sorry sort of food to feed upon withal, but I have oft times heard ofhungry men staving off starvation with no better fare. Nay, I am inearnest," he added, seeing the look of disgust in Gilbert's face. "Surethey are made out of good tallow-fat." He smiled grimly as he offeredone of the candles to Gilbert, saying with much gravity, "I pray you,good my lord, wilt join me in a banquet of candles?"
Gilbert took the proffered food, yet hesitated to begin.
They quitted the cabin and mounted the stairs. When they regained thedeck Philip Oglander was not to be seen. They called him, but he did notanswer. Already the dusk was falling and they became anxious. ButTimothy felt well assured that Philip was still on board, and surmisedthat he had found his way below into some one of the cabins.Nevertheless a further search was made for him, and it was only thegrowing darkness that urged them once more to return to what theybelieved to be the captain's room. Here Timothy made a beginning uponone of the candles, and, finding it not altogether disagreeable, herecommended Gilbert to make a similar meal. So hungry were they boththat they would fain have finished the whole of their store, but theyremembered Philip, and in fairness they put aside for him his due share.
It was, as Timothy had remarked, a sorry sort of food, but in theabsence of any better it served for the time, and having partaken of itthey cleared the table of the things that were upon it, stretchedthemselves out upon its hard substance, and, committing themselves toGod's keeping, fell asleep. A gnawing thirst disturbed their slumbers,but the rest was welcome after all their troubles and dangers, and whena beam of morning sunlight pouring in through the stern-ports awakenedthem they arose, conscious that they had been refreshed.
Timothy's first act was to go to one of the open port-holes to look atthe weather. The sea was now much calmer than when he had last lookedupon it, and instead of the great broken waves with their caps of foamand showery spray, there was a long, regular rolling swell, onlyslightly rippled by the fresh morning breeze. That breeze was sorefreshing that Timothy lingered at the port-hole, breathing it withjoy. He crept outward, too, and tried to make out some of the devicesthat were carved upon the vessel's stern. Suddenly he hastened back intothe cabin. His face was ghastly, and a strange agitation shone in hiseyes.
"Master Gilbert!" he cried, "Master Gilbert--my lord, my lord!"
Gilbert stared at him in amazement, thinking for the moment that he hadlost his senses.
"What hath come over thee, Timothy?" he asked. "Hast seen a ghost?"
"Haply I have," answered Timothy, his limbs shaking under him. "Dostknow what ship we are in?"
"Nay, how should I know?" returned Gilbert, still in doubt as toTimothy's sanity.
Timothy grasped Gilbert by his two shoulders and said in a hollow,awe-stricken voice:
"'Tis _The Golden Galleon_!"
Gilbert started back in astonishment.
"How know you?" he cried.
"By the devices I have now seen carven upon her stern," said Timothy. "Iknew them again. They are the same that we saw in the midst of thatweird green light on the Sargasso Sea, and 'tis the self-same ship, asI'm a living son of a barber. 'Tis Jacob Hartop's Golden Galleon--orelse her ghost, as Jacob averred."
"Her ghost!" echoed Gilbert; and he put his hand upon the table as if toassure himself that it was a solid substance. "Nay, Tim, 'tis no ghost,"said he, "although I will not deny that she may be Jacob's galleon." Hepaused for many moments reflecting. At last he went on: "Prithee, Tim,didst ever hear from Jacob how long it was since he deserted that samegolden galleon of his?"
"Three years at the least," answered Timothy; "for 'tis not to beforgotten that when he had left her he voyaged yet again to the SpanishMain, where he fell in with your uncle Jasper and the good ship_Pearl_."
Now, in preparing the table as a bed on the night before, Timothy hadleft only one thing lying there, and that thing was a large book whichhe had placed as a pillow for Gilbert. The book lay still upon the tableclose to Gilbert's hand. Gilbert idly turned back its first page. Hiseyes rested upon a line of cramped and almost illegible writing. Helooked at it closer and then started back.
"Tim!" he cried. "'Tis true--'tis true what you say, for here is hisvery name writ in this book!" He put his finger on the page whileTimothy drew nearer. "There, where I point," he added. "'Tis his ownhand, see--'JACOB HARTOP, BUCCANEER, HYS LOGG BOOKE'."
"Nay, I must e'en take thy word for't, my master," said Tim; "for thouknowest that although I can make shift to read a line of print, yetwriting done with a quill is beyond me. So," he mused, "this is poorJacob's treasure-ship--the same that he hath so oft spoken of. Ay, andI'll engage 'tis, as he hath reported, loaded full deep with gold. Suchwealth might make us great and glorious did we but have it in England,Master Gilbert. But of what avail is it now? 'Tis of no use under thesun. For my own part, I'd exchange it all for a barrel of good Devonapples or a loaf of my mother's home-made bread."
"And I also," added Gilbert.
They were silent for some minutes. Timothy was the first to speak.
"'Tis passing strange where thy cousin Philip hath got to," said he."Methinks 'twere well that we now made another search for him."
Gilbert agreed, and together they went and searched the ship. Duringtheir search they discovered that the galleon was indeed laden withgold. But they cared not for this while their vitals were being gnawedwith hunger and their lips were blue and parched with thirst.
Philip Oglander, it would seem, was more familiar with the structure ofa galleon than were either Timothy or Gilbert. For instead of going atonce to the poop-cabins he had found his way down to the roomsamidships, where it was customary to keep the stores. What little foodhe had found was either saturated with salt-water or rotten with decay,or else so hard and dried up that it would have required a pickaxe tobreak it, much less human teeth. In his quest, however, he haddiscovered what Gilbert and Timothy had not even dreamt of, namely, somehuge bins of Spanish wine. Into one of these he had managed to bore ahole with the point of his dagger. Unlike Timothy, he had not for aninstant thought of sharing his discovery. He had taken his fill of thewine, leaving a stream running from the bin, and finding some stale andmildewed bread, he had cleaned it and put it to soak and soften in abath of the red liquid.
When Timothy and Gilbert at last came upon him he was lying on the floorin an intoxicated sleep, with a flood of wine about him. Timothyregarded him in horror and disgust.
"It seemeth to me that Master Philip might almost have acquainted us ofsuch a discovery as this," said he, and picking up a little golden cupfrom the floor he held it to catch the drippings from the bin. Hepresently passed the cup to Gilbert.
"Drink, my master,"
said he; "'twill do thee good. But take not much atthe first, for there is naught so bad upon an empty stomach as strongliquor. Thy cousin hath seemingly been so unwise as to drink his fill."
"'Tis naught to marvel at," said Gilbert, having taken a mouthful, "forof a surety it doth put new life into one. Ay, even to wet one's lipswith it doth send the blood racing through the body like the water in amill-dam."
Timothy espied Philip's bread soaking in its silver dish of wine, and hetook some out, sharing it with Gilbert, and they ate it and wererefreshed.
Suddenly as they were leaving Philip to finish his sleep, they werestartled by hearing from across the sea the report of a cannon-shot.Timothy bounded forward, and was speedily upon the deck. Gilbertfollowed at his heels. Looking over to the eastward they saw a gallantlittle ship in full sail bearing down towards them. A faint mist ofsmoke was being wafted by the wind from one of her forward guns. Fromher sprit-topmast there waved the glorious flag of St. George.
"'Tis an English ship!" cried Timothy with joy.
"Ay," added Gilbert; "and what is more, 'tis one that is no stranger tome. Thou shouldst know her even better than I, Tim; for, if I mistakenot, 'tis none other than Jacob Whiddon's _Pilgrim_. I know her by thetoken that her fore-topsail hath got a round patch of lighter canvas init. And, mark you, 'tis Master Whiddon's ancient that flieth from hermainyard. Ay, 'tis the _Pilgrim_. And of that I have now no manner ofdoubt."
"Then are we saved!" murmured Timothy. "Prithee, Master Gilbert, hiethee below and bid thy cousin Philip come up, while that I climb to thetop of the poop-deck and make a signal."
And so saying Timothy sought about for some flag or rag which he mightwave to the ship as a sign that there were people on board the galleon.No flag could he find, but taking a strip of red silk that he haddiscovered in Hartop's cabin, he tied it by the corners to the end of apike, and this he waved to and fro from the highest part of thegalleon's hull. His signal was answered from the _Pilgrim_, and the shipbore down before the wind with a belt of white foam streaming off fromher round bows, and her white sails glimmering in the bright sunlight.
Meanwhile Gilbert Oglander had gone below to arouse his cousin. Philipwas very sound asleep; but after many efforts Gilbert awakened him, andhe staggered to his feet. Glaring at Gilbert with bloodshot eyes he didnot speak for many minutes. Gilbert told him of the approaching ship,and added that now they might hope to be taken home to England.
This mention of England seemed to have aroused strange thoughts inPhilip's brain, and without warning he closed the cabin door and plantedhimself with his back against it.
"Thou, at least, shalt never see England again!" he cried. "By the HolyMother thou shalt not! Dost think that I will brook the thought of theebeing Baron Champernoun, while I, who am a better man than thee, amplain Philip Oglander? No! This ship hath wealth enough aboard her toserve me in plenty for the rest of my days. And thou shalt not share it;neither shalt thou ever live to hear thyself addressed by the greattitle of Champernoun!"
He spoke the words in a thick drunken voice, his eyes fixing themselvesupon his cousin in terrible menace.
Gilbert could not repress the smile that came to his lips.
"Hush, good my cousin!" said he. "Thou hast taken overmuch of thisstrong wine, methinks, and thy tongue doth say things which thy heartcannot mean."
"What?" cried Philip. And whipping his dagger from his belt he made alunge at Gilbert, aiming a blow at his heart.
Gilbert drew aside and avoided the blow, and Philip's head struck with aresounding knock against the bulkhead. The pain enraged him, andswearing a great Spanish oath he renewed the attack, rushing at hiscousin with wild fury. This time his foot slipped on the slimy,wine-flooded floor. He fell with a heavy thud; his weapon hand was underhim, and the dagger, which he had held sword-wise, with the pointupward, buried the full length of its blade in his chest.
Gilbert turned to the door and opened it. As he looked round at Philiphe saw a stream of blood issuing from under him. Philip tried to rise,but rolled over on his back. Only the handle of his dagger could beseen. Gilbert bent down to withdraw it, but it was tightly wedgedbetween the ribs.
"The Saints protect me!" groaned Philip. "I am done for!"
"Much do I fear that thou art indeed. God forgive thee," said Gilbert,and quitting the store-room he returned to the deck to summon Timothy.It was at this moment that Timothy had seen the answering signal fromthe _Pilgrim_. He went below with Gilbert and when they entered thestore-room they found that Philip Oglander was dead.
"HE MADE A LUNGE AT GILBERT, AIMING A BLOW AT HIS HEART."]