CHAPTER ELEVEN.
When Zeppa, as related in a previous chapter, staggered up the mountainside with Richard Rosco in his arms, his great strength was all butexhausted, and it was with the utmost difficulty that he succeeded atlast, before night-fall, in laying his burden on the couch in his cave.
Then, for the first time, he seemed to have difficulty in deciding whatto do. Now, at last, the pirate was in his power--he could do to himwhat he pleased! As he thought thus he turned a look of fierceindignation upon him. But, even as he gazed, the look faded, and wasreplaced by one of pity, for he could not help seeing that the wretchedman was suffering intolerable anguish, though no murmur escaped from histightly-compressed lips.
"Slay me, in God's name, kill me at once, Zeppa," he gasped, "and put meout of torment."
"Poor man! poor Rosco!" returned the madman in a gentle voice, "Ithought to have punished thee, but God wills it otherwise."
He said no more, but rose hastily and went into the bush. Returning ina few moments with a bundle of herbs, he gathered some sticks andkindled a fire. A large earthenware pot stood close to the side of thecave's entrance--a clumsy thing, made by himself of some sort of clay.This he filled with water, put the herbs in, and set it on the fire.Soon he had a poultice spread on a broad leaf which, when it was cold,he applied to one of the pirate's dreadfully burnt feet. Then he spreadanother poultice, with which he treated the other foot.
What the remedy was that Zeppa made use of on this occasion is bestknown to himself; we can throw no light on the subject. Neither can wesay whether the application was or was not in accordance with thepractice of the faculty, but certain it is that Rosco's sufferings wereimmediately assuaged, and he soon fell into a tranquil sleep.
Not so the madman, who sat watching by his couch. Poor Zeppa's physicalsufferings and exertion had proved too much for him; the strain on hisshattered nerves had been too severe, and a burning fever was now ragingwithin him, so that the delirium consequent on disease began to mingle,so to speak, with his insanity.
He felt that something unusual was going on within him. He tried torestrain himself, and chain down his wandering, surging thoughts, butthe more he sought to hold himself down, the more did a demon--whoseemed to have been especially appointed for the purpose--cast hismental fastenings adrift.
At last he took it into his head that the slumbering pirate hadbewitched him. As this idea gained ground and the internal firesincreased, the old ideas of revenge returned, and he drew the knifewhich hung at his belt, gazing furtively at the sleeper as he did so.
But the better nature within the man maintained a fierce conflict withthe worse.
"He murdered my son--my darling Orley!" murmured the madman, as he feltthe keen edge and point of his knife, and crept towards the sleeper,while a fitful flicker of the dying fire betrayed the awful light thatseemed to blaze in his eyes. "He carried me from my home! He leftMarie to die in hopeless grief! Ha! ha! ha! Oh God! keep me back--backfrom _this_."
The noise awoke Rosco, who sat up and gazed at Zeppa in horror, for hesaw at a glance that a fit of his madness must have seized him.
"Zeppa!" he exclaimed, raising himself with difficulty on both hands,and gazing sternly in the madman's face.
"Ha!" exclaimed the latter, suddenly throwing his knife on the groundwithin Rosco's reach, "see, I scorn to take advantage of your unarmedcondition. Take that and defend yourself. I will content myself withthis."
He caught up the heavy staff which he was in the habit of carrying withhim in his mountain rambles. At the same instant Rosco seized the knifeand flung it far into the bush.
"See! I am still unarmed," he said.
"True, but you are not the less guilty, Rosco, and you must die. It ismy duty to kill you."
He advanced with the staff up-raised.
"Stay! Let us consider before you strike. Are you not a self-appointedexecutioner?"
The question was well put. The madman lowered the staff to consider.Instantly the pirate made a plunge at and caught it. Zeppa strove towrench it from his grasp, but the pirate felt that his life might dependon his retaining hold, and, in his extremity, was endued with almostsupernatural strength. In the fierce struggles that ensued, the embersof the fire were scattered, and the spot reduced to almost totaldarkness. During the unequal conflict, the pirate, who could only getupon his knees, was swept and hurled from side to side, but still hegrasped the staff with vice-like power to his breast. Even in thatfearful moment the idea, which had already occurred to him, of humouringhis antagonist gained force. He suddenly loosed his hold. Zeppastaggered backward, recovered himself, sprang forward, and aimed afearful blow at his adversary, who suddenly fell flat down. The staffpassed harmlessly over him and was shattered to pieces on the side ofthe cave.
"Ha! ha!" laughed the pirate lightly, as he sat up again, "you see,Zeppa, that Providence is against you. How else could I, a helplesscripple, have held my own against you? And see, the very weapon youmeant to use is broken to pieces. Come now, delay this execution for alittle, and let us talk together about this death which you think isdue. There is much to be said about death, you know, and I should liketo get to understand it better before I experience it."
"There is reason in that, Rosco," said Zeppa, sitting down on the groundby the side of the pirate, and leaning his back against the rock. "Youhave much need to consider death, for after death comes the judgment,and none of us can escape _that_."
"True, Zeppa, and I should not like to face that just now, for I am notfit to die, although, as you truly say, I deserve death. I have nohesitation in admitting that," returned the pirate, with somebitterness; "I deserve to die, body and soul, and, after all, I don'tsee why I should seek so earnestly to delay the righteous doom."
"Right, Rosco, right; you talk sense now, the doom is well deserved.Why, then, try to prevent me any longer from inflicting it when you knowit is my duty to do so?"
"Because," continued the pirate, who felt that to maintain the conflicteven with words was too much for his exhausted strength, "because I haveheard that God is merciful."
"Merciful!" echoed Zeppa. "Of course He is. Have you not heard thatHis mercy is so great that He has provided a way of escape for sinners--through faith in His own dear Son?"
"It does not, however, seem to be a way of escape for _me_," said thepirate, letting himself sink back on his couch with a weary sigh.
"Yes, it is! yes, it is!" exclaimed Zeppa eagerly, as he got upon thefamiliar theme; "the offer is to the chief of sinners, `Whosoever will,'`Turn ye, turn ye, for why will ye die?'"
"Tell me about it" said Rosco faintly, as the other paused.
Zeppa had delayed a moment in order to think for his disordered mind hadbeen turned into a much-loved channel, that of preaching the Gospel toinquiring sinners. For many years he had been training himself in theknowledge of the Scriptures, and, being possessed of a good memory, hehad got large portions of it by heart. Gathering together the embers ofthe scattered fire, he sat down again, and, gazing thoughtfully at theflickering flames, began to point out the way of salvation to thepirate.
Sleep--irresistible sleep--gradually overcame the latter; still theformer went on repeating long passages of God's word. At last he put aquestion, and, not receiving an answer, looked earnestly into the faceof his enemy.
"Ah! poor man. He sleeps. God cannot wish me to slay him until I havemade him understand the gospel. I will delay--till to-morrow."
Before the morrow came Zeppa had wandered forth among the cliffs andgorges of his wild home, with the ever-increasing fires of fever ragingin his veins.
Sometimes his madness took the form of wildest fury, and, grasping somebush or sapling that might chance to be near, he would struggle with itas with a fiend until utter exhaustion caused him to fall prostrate onthe ground, where he would lie until partial rest and internal fire gavehim strength again to rise. At other times he would run up and down thebills like a greyhound,
bounding from rock to rock, and across chasmswhere one false step would have sent him headlong to destruction.
Frequently he ran down to the beach and plunged into the sea, where hewould swim about aimlessly until exhaustion sent him to the shore, wherehe would fall down, as at other times, and rest--if such repose could beso styled.
Thus he continued fighting for his life for several days.
During that time Richard Rosco lay in the cave almost starving.
At first he had found several cocoa-nuts, the hard shells of which hadbeen broken by Zeppa, and appeased his hunger with these, but when theywere consumed, he sought about the cave for food in vain. Fortunatelyhe found a large earthenware pot--evidently a home-made one--nearly fullof water, so that he was spared the agony of thirst as well as hunger.
When he had scraped the shells of the cocoa-nuts perfectly clean, thepirate tried to crawl forth on hands and knees, to search for food, hisfeet being in such a state that it was not possible for him to stand,much less to walk. But Zeppa had long ago cleared away all the wildfruits that grew in the neighbourhood of his cave, so that he foundnothing save a few wild berries. Still, in his condition, even thesewere of the utmost value: they helped to keep him alive. Another nightpassed, and the day came. He crept forth once more, but was so weakenedby suffering and want that he could not extend his explorations so faras before, and was compelled to return without having tasted a mouthful.Taking a long draught of water, he lay down, as he firmly believed, todie.
And as he lay there his life rose up before him as an avenging angel,and the image of his dead mother returned with a reproachful yet anappealing look in her eyes. He tried to banish the one and to turn histhoughts from the other, but failed, and at last in an agony of remorse,shouted the single word "Guilty!"
It seemed as if the cry had called Zeppa from the world of spirits--towhich Rosco believed he had fled--for a few minutes afterwards themadman approached his mountain-home, with the blood still boiling in hisveins. Apparently he had forgotten all about the pirate, for he wasstartled on beholding him.
"What! still there? I thought I had killed you."
"I wish you had, Zeppa. It would have been more merciful than leavingme to die of hunger here."
"Are you prepared to die now?"
"Yes, but for God's sake give me something to eat first. After that Icare not what you do to me."
"Miserable man, death is sufficient for you. I have neither command nordesire to torture. You shall have food immediately."
So saying, Zeppa re-entered the bush. In less than half-an-hour hereturned with several cocoa-nuts and other fruits, of which Roscopartook with an avidity that told its own tale.
"Now," said Zeppa, rising, when Rosco had finished, "have you hadenough?"
"No," said the pirate, quickly, "not half enough. Go, like a goodfellow, and fetch me more."
Zeppa rose at once and went away. While he was gone the fear of beingmurdered again took possession of Rosco. He felt that his last hour wasapproaching, and, in order to avoid his doom if possible, crawled awayamong the bushes and tried to hide himself. He was terribly weak,however, and had not got fifty yards away when he fell down utterlyexhausted.
He heard Zeppa return to the cave, and listened with beating heart.
"Hallo! where are you?" cried the madman.
Then, receiving no answer, he burst into a long, loud fit of laughter,which seemed to freeze the very marrow in the pirate's bones.
"Ha! ha!" he shouted, again and again, "I knew you were a dream, I feltsure of it--ha! ha! and now this proves it. And I'm glad you were adream, for I did not want to kill you, Rosco, though I thought it myduty to do so. It was a dream--thank God, it was all a dream!"
Zeppa did not end again with wild laughter, but betook himself toearnest importunate prayer, during which Rosco crept, by slow degrees,farther and farther away, until he could no longer hear the sound of hisenemy's voice.
Now, it was while this latter scene had been enacting, that Orlando andthe faithful negro set out on their search into the mountain.
At first they did not speak, and Ebony, not feeling sure how his youngmaster relished his company, kept discreetly a pace or two in rear.After they had crossed the plain, however, and begun to scale the steepsides of the hills, his tendency towards conversation could not berestrained.
"Does you t'ink, Massa Orley, that hims be you fadder?"
"I think so, Ebony, indeed I feel almost sure of it."
Thus encouraged, the negro ranged up alongside.
"An' does you t'ink hims mad?"
"I hope not. I pray not; but I fear that he--"
"Hims got leettle out ob sorts," said the sympathetic Ebony, suggestinga milder state of things.
As Orlando did not appear to derive much consolation from thesuggestion, Ebony held his tongue for a few minutes.
Presently his attention was attracted to a sound in the underwood nearthem.
"Hist! Massa Orley. I hear somet'ing."
"So do I, Ebony," said the youth, pausing for a moment to listen; "itmust be some sort of bird, for there can be no wild animals left by thenatives in so small an island."
As he spoke something like a low moan was heard. The negro's mouthopened, and the whites of his great eyes seemed to dilate.
"If it _am_ a bird, massa, hims got a mos' awful voice. Mus' havecotched a drefful cold!"
The groan was repeated as he spoke, and immediately after they observeda large, sluggish-looking animal, advancing through the underwood.
"What a pity we's not got a gun!" whispered Ebony. "If we's only had aspear or a pitchfork, it's besser than nuffin."
"Lucky that you have nothing of the sort, else you'd commit murder,"said Orlando, advancing. "Don't you see--it is a man!"
The supposed animal started as the youth spoke, and rose on his kneeswith a terribly haggard and anxious look.
"Richard Rosco!" exclaimed Orley, who recognised the pirate at the firstglance.
But Rosco did not reply. He, too, had recognised Orley, despite thechange in his size and appearance, and believed him to be a visitantfrom the other world, an idea which was fostered by the furthersupposition that Ebony was the devil keeping him company.
Orlando soon relieved him, however. The aspect of the pirate, sohaggard and worn out, as he crawled on his hands and knees, was sodreadful that a flood of pity rushed into his bosom.
"My poor fellow," he said, going forward and laying his hand gently onhis shoulder, "this is indeed a most unexpected, most amazing sight.How came you here?"
"Then you were not drowned?" gasped the pirate, instead of answering thequestion.
"No, thank God. I was not drowned," said Orley, with a sad smile. "Butagain I ask, How came you here?"
"Never mind me," said Rosco hurriedly, "but go to your father."
"My father! Do you know, then, where he is?" cried Orlando, with suddenexcitement.
"Yes. He is up there--not far off. I have just escaped from him. Heis bent on taking my life. He saved me from the savages. He is mad--with fever--and stands terribly in need of help."
Bewildered beyond expression by these contradictory statements, Orlandomade no attempt to understand, but exclaimed--
"Can you guide us to him?"
"You see," returned the pirate sadly, "I cannot even rise to my feet.The savages were burning me alive when your father came to my rescue.The flesh is dropping from the bones. I cannot help you."
"Kin you git on my back?" asked Ebony. "You's a good lift, but I'sawful strong."
"I will try," returned Rosco, "but you will have to protect me fromZeppa if he sees me, for he is bent on taking my life. He thinks thatyou were drowned--as, indeed, so did I--the time that you were thrownoverboard without my knowledge--mind that, _without my knowledge_--andyour father in his madness thinks he is commissioned by God to avengeyour death. Perhaps, when he sees you alive, he may change his mind,but there is no depending on one who is del
irious with fever. He willprobably still be in the cave when we reach it."
"We will protect you. Get up quickly, and show us the way to the cave."
In a moment the stout negro had the pirate on his broad shoulders, and,under his guidance, mounted the slightly-marked path that led to Zeppa'sretreat.
No words were spoken by the way. Orlando was too full of anxiousanticipation to speak. The negro was too heavily weighted to care aboutconversation just then, and Rosco suffered so severely from the roughmotions of his black steed that he was fain to purse his lips tightly toprevent a cry of pain.
On reaching the neighbourhood of the cave the pirate whispered to Ebonyto set him down.
"You will come in sight of the place the moment you turn round yondercliff. It is better that I should remain here till the meeting is over.I hear no sound, but doubtless Zeppa is lying down by this time."
The negro set his burden on the ground, and Rosco crept slowly into thebush to hide, while the others hurried forward in the direction pointedout to them.