Cord and Creese Read online

  CHAPTER III.

  "A MAN OVERBOARD!"

  In so small a town as Sydney then was Brandon could hope to learn allthat could be learned about Cigole. By casual inquiries he learned thatthe Italian had come out in the _Rival_, and had given out that hewas agent for a London house in the wool business. He had bought up aconsiderable quantity which he was preparing to ship.

  Brandon could not help feeling that there was some ruse about this. Yethe thought, on the other hand, why should he flaunt his name so boldlybefore the world? If he is in reality following me why should he notdrop his name? But then, again, why should he? Perhaps he thinks thatI can not possibly know any thing about his name. Why should I? I was achild when Despard was murdered. It may be merely a similarity of names.

  Brandon from time to time had opportunities of hearing more aboutCigole, yet always the man seemed absorbed in business.

  He wondered to himself whether he had better confide his suspicions toMr. Compton or not. Yet why should he? The old man would become excited,and feel all sorts of wild hopes about discovering his wife and son.Could it be possible that the Italian after so many years could nowafford any clew whatever? Certainly it was not very probable.

  On the whole Brandon thought that this man, whoever he was or whateverhis purpose might be, would be encountered best by himself singly. IfMr. Compton took part he would at once awaken Cigole's fears by hisclumsiness.

  Brandon felt quite certain that Mr. Compton would not know any thingabout Cigole's presence in Sydney unless he himself told him. For theold man was so filled with trouble at the loss of his partner that hecould think of nothing else, and all his thoughts were taken up withclosing up the concern so as to send forward remittances of money toLondon as soon as possible. Mr. Compton had arranged for him to drawL2000 on his arrival at London, and three months afterward L3000-L10,000would be remitted during the following year.

  Brandon had come to the conclusion to tell Mr. Compton about Cigolebefore he left, so that if the man remained in the country he mightbe bribed or otherwise induced to tell what he knew; yet thinking itpossible that Cigole had designed to return in the same ship withhim, he waited to see how things would turn out. As he could not helpassociating Cigole in his mind with Potts, so he thought that whicheverway he turned this man would try to follow him. His anticipations provedcorrect. He had taken passage in the ship _Java_, and two days beforethe vessel left he learned that Cigole had taken his passage in heralso, having put on board a considerable quantity of wool. On the wholeBrandon felt gratified to hear this, for the close association of a longsea voyage would give him opportunities to test this man, and probe himto the bottom. The thought of danger arising to himself did not enterhis mind. He believed that Cigole meant mischief, but had too muchconfidence in his own powers to fear it.

  On the 5th of August the ship _Java_ was ready, and Mr. Compton stood onthe quarterdeck to bid good-by to Brandon.

  "God bless you, dear boy! You will find the money coming promptly, andSmithers & Co.'s house is one of the strongest in London. I have broughtyou a parting gift," said he, in a low voice. He drew from his pocketa pistol, which in those days was less known than now--indeed, this wasthe first of its kind which had reached Australia, and Mr. Compton hadpaid a fabulous price for it. "Here," said he, "take this to remember meby. They call it a revolver. Here is a box of patent cartridges that gowith it. It is from me to you. And mind," he continued, while therecame over his face a vengeful look which Brandon had never seen therebefore--"mind, if ever you see John Potts, give him one of thosepatent cartridges, and tell him it is the last gift of a broken-heartedfather."

  Brandon's face turned ghastly, and his lips seemed to freeze into asmile of deadly meaning.

  "God bless you." cried Compton, "I see by your face that you will do it.Good-by."

  He wrung Brandon's hand hard and left the ship.

  About six feet away stood Cigole, looking over the stern and smokinga cigar. He was near enough to hear what had been said, but he did notappear to have heard it. Throwing his cigar into the water, he plungedhis hands into his pockets, and began whistling a lively air.

  "Aha, Capitano," said he, in a foreign accent, "I have brought my wooloff at last."

  Brandon paced the deck silently yet watchfully.

  The good ship _Java_ went out with a fine breeze, which continued forsome days, until at last nothing could be seen but the wide ocean. Inthose few days Brandon had settled himself comfortably on board, and hadlearned pretty well the kind of life which he would have to lead forthe next six months or so. The captain was a quiet, amiable sort of aperson, without much force of character; the mate was more energeticand somewhat passionate; the crew consisted of the average order of men.There was no chance, certainly, for one of those conspiracies such asMr. Compton had hinted at as having taken place on the _Vishnu_; for inhis account of that affair he evidently believed that Uracao had beenmade a scape-goat for the sins of the others.

  Brandon was soon on the best of terms with the officers of the ship. Asto Cigole it was different. The fact of their being the only passengerson board might of itself have been a sufficient cause to draw themtogether; but Brandon found it difficult to pass beyond the extremestlimits of formal intercourse. Brandon himself considered that hispurposes would be best served by close association with this man; hehoped that in the course of such association he might draw somethingfrom Cigole. But Cigole baffled him constantly. He was as polite andcourteous as all Italians are; he had an abundance of remarks all readyabout the state of the weather, the prospects of the voyage, or thehealth of the seamen; but beyond these topics it was difficult to inducehim to go. Brandon stifled the resentment which he felt toward this man,in his efforts to break down the barriers of formality which he kept up,and sought to draw him out on the subject of the wool trade. Yet here hewas baffled. Cigole always took up the air of a man who was speaking toa rival in business, and pretended to be very cautious and guarded inhis remarks about wool, as though he feared that Brandon would interferewith his prospects. This sort of thing was kept up with such greatdelicacy of management on Cigole's part that Brandon himself would havebeen completely deceived, and would have come to consider him as nothingmore than a speculator in wool, had it not been for a certain deepinstinct within him, which made him regard this man as one who wasactuated by something far deeper than mere regards for a successfulspeculation.

  Cigole managed to baffle the most dextrous efforts and the most delicatecontrivances of Brandon. He would acknowledge that he was an Italian,and had been in all parts of Italy, but carefully refrained from tellingwhere he was born. He asserted that this was the first time that he hadbeen in the Eastern seas. He remarked once, casually, that Cigole was avery common name among Italians. He said that he had no acquaintances atall in England, and was only going there now because he heard that therewas a good market for wool. At another time he spoke as though much ofhis life had been passed in Marseilles, and hinted that he was a partnerof a commercial house there.

  Cigole never made any advances, and never even met half-way thosewhich Brandon made. He was never off his guard for one instant. Polite,smiling, furtive, never looking Brandon fairly in the face, he usuallyspoke with a profusion of bows, gestures, and commonplaces, adopting, infact, that part which is always at once both the easiest and the safestto play--the non-committal, pure and perfect.

  It was cunning, but low cunning after all, and Brandon perceived that,for one who had some purpose to accomplish, with but a common soulto sustain him, this was the most ordinary way to do it. A villain ofprofounder cunning or of larger spirit would have pursued a differentpath. He would have conversed freely and with apparent unreserve; hewould have yielded to all friendly advances, and made them himself; hewould have shown the highest art by concealing art, in accordance withthe hackneyed proverb, "Ars est celare artem."

  Brandon despised him as an ordinary villain, and hardly thought it worthhis while to take any particular notice of
him, except to watch him in ageneral way. But Cigole, on the contrary, was very different. His eyes,which never met those of Brandon fairly, were constantly watching him.When moving about the quarter-deck or when sitting in the cabinhe usually had the air of a man who was pretending to be intent onsomething else, but in reality watching Brandon's acts or listening tohis words. To any other man the knowledge of this would have been inthe highest degree irksome. But to Brandon it was gratifying, since itconfirmed his suspicions. He saw this man, whose constant efforts weredirected toward not committing himself by word, doing that very thing byhis attitude, his gesture, and the furtive glance of his eye. Brandon,too, had his part, but it was infinitely greater than that of Cigole,and the purpose that now animated his life was unintelligible to thisman who watched him. But Cigole's whole soul was apparent to Brandon;and by his small arts, his low cunning, his sly observation, and manyother peculiarities, he exhibited that which is seen in its perfectionin the ordinary spy of despotic countries, such as used to abound mostin Rome and Naples in the good old days.

  For the common spy of Europe may deceive the English or Americantraveler; but the Frenchman, the German, the Spaniard, or the Italian,always recognizes him.

  So Brandon's superior penetration discovered the true character ofCigole.

  He believed that this man was the same Cigole who had figured in theaffair of the _Vishnu_; that he had been sent out by Potts to do someinjury to himself, and that he was capable of any crime. Yet he couldnot see how he could do any thing. He certainly could not incite thesimple-minded captain and the honest mate to conspiracy. He was toogreat a coward to attempt any violence. So Brandon concluded that he hadsimply come to watch him so as to learn his character, and carry back toPotts all the knowledge that he might gain.

  This was his conclusion after a close association of one month withCigole. Yet he made up his mind not to lose sight of this man. To him heappeared only an agent in villainy, and therefore unworthy of vengeance;yet he might be made use of as an aid in that vengeance. He thereforewished to have a clew by which he might afterward find him.

  "You and I," said he one day, in conversation, "are both in the sametrade. If I ever get to England I may wish some time to see you. Wherecan I find you?"

  Cigole looked in twenty different directions, and hesitated for sometime.

  "Well," said he at last, "I do not think that you will wish to see me--"and he hesitated; "but," he resumed, with an evil smile, "if youshould by any possibility wish to do so, you can find out where I am byinquiring of Giovanni Cavallo, 16 Red Lion Street, London."

  "Perhaps I may not wish to," said Brandon, coolly, "and perhaps I may.At any rate, if I do, I will remember to inquire of Giovanni Cavallo, 16Red Lion Street, London."

  He spoke with deep emphasis on the address. Cigole looked uncomfortable,as though he had at last made the mistake which he dreaded, and hadcommitted himself.

  So the time passed.

  After the first few days the weather had become quite stormy.Strong head-winds, accompanied often by very heavy rains, had tobe encountered. In spite of this the ship had a very good passagenorthward, and met with no particular obstacle until her course wasturned toward the Indian Ocean. Then all the winds were dead againsther, and for weeks a succession of long tacks far to the north and tothe south brought her but a short distance onward. Every day made thewind more violent and the storm worse. And now the season of the equinoxwas approaching, when the monsoons change, and all the winds that sweepover these seas alter their courses. For weeks before and after thisseason the winds are all unsettled, and it seems as if the elements werelet loose. From the first week in September this became manifest, andevery day brought them face to face with sterner difficulties. Twicebefore the captain had been to Australia; and for years he had been inthe China trade; so that he knew these seas well; but he said that hehad never known the equinoctial storms begin so early, and rage withsuch violence.

  Opposed by such difficulties as these the ship made but a slowpassage--the best routes had not yet been discovered--and it was themiddle of September before they entered the Indian Ocean. The weatherthen became suddenly calm, and they drifted along beyond the latitudeof the western extremity of Java, about a hundred miles south of theStraits of Sunda. Here they began to encounter the China fleet whichsteers through this strait, for every day one or more sails werevisible.

  Here they were borne on helplessly by the ocean currents, which at thisplace are numerous and distracted. The streams that flow through themany isles of the Indian Archipelago, uniting with the greater southernstreams, here meet and blend, causing great difficulties to navigation,and often baffling even the most experienced seaman. Yet it was not allleft to the currents, for frequently and suddenly the storms came up;and the weather, ever changeful, kept the sailors constantly on thealert.

  Yet between the storms the calms were frequent, and sometimes longcontinued, though of such a sort as required watchfulness. For out ofthe midst of dead calms the storm would suddenly rise in its might, andall the care which experience could suggest was not always able to avertdisaster.

  "I don't like this weather, Mr. Brandon. It's the worst that we couldhave, especially just here."

  "Why just here?"

  "Why, we're opposite the Straits of Sunda, the worst place about theseparts."

  "What for?"

  "Pirates. The Malays, you know. We're not over well prepared to meetthem, I'm afraid. If they come we'll have to fight them the best way wecan; and these calms are the worst thing for us, because the Malay proascan get along in the lightest wind, or with oars, when we can't move atall."

  "Are the Malays any worse than usual now?" asked Brandon.

  "Well, no worse than they've been for the last ten years. Zangorri isthe worst of them all."

  "Zangorri! I've heard of him."

  "I should think you had. Why, there never was a pirate in these seasthat did so much damage. No mortal knows the ships that devil hascaptured and burned."

  "I hope you have arms for the seamen, at any rate."

  "Oh, we have one howitzer, and small-arms for the men, and we will haveto get along the best way we can with these; but the owners ought neverto send us here without a better equipment."

  "I suppose they think it would cost too much."

  "Yes; that's it. They think only about the profits, and trust toluck for our safety. Well, I only hope we'll get safely out of thisplace--that's all."

  And the captain walked off much more excited than usual.

  They drifted on through days of calm, which were succeeded by fiercebut short-lived storms, and then followed by calms. Their course laysometimes north, sometimes south, sometimes nowhere. Thus the timepassed, until at length, about the middle of September, they came insight of a long, low island of sand.

  "I've heard of that sand-bank before," said the captain, who showed somesurprise at seeing it; "but I didn't believe it was here. It's not downin the charts. Here we are three hundred and fifty miles southwest ofthe Straits of Sunda, and the chart makes this place all open water.Well, seein's believin'; and after this I'll swear that there is such athing as Coffin Island."

  "Is that the name?"

  "That's the name an old sea-captain gave it, and tried to get theAdmiralty to put it on the charts, but they wouldn't. But this is it,and no mistake."

  "Why did he call it Coffin Island?"

  "Well, he thought that rock looked like a coffin, and it's dangerousenough when a fog comes to deserve that name."

  Brandon looked earnestly at the island which the captain mentioned, andwhich they were slowly approaching.

  It lay toward the north, while the ship's course, if it had any in thatcalm, was southwest. It was not more than six miles away, and appearedto be about five miles long. At the nearest extremity a black rock aroseto a height of about fifty feet, which appeared to be about five hundredfeet long, and was of such a shape that the imagination might easily seea resemblance to a coffin. At the farth
est extremity of the island wasa low mound. The rest of the island was flat, low, and sandy, with notrace of vegetation perceptible from the ship, except a line of dingygreen under the rock, which looked like grass.

  The ship drifted slowly on.

  Meanwhile the captain, in anticipation of a storm, had caused all thesails to be taken in, and stood anxiously watching the sky toward thesouthwest.

  There a dense mass of clouds lay piled along the horizon, gloomy,lowering, menacing; frowning over the calm seas as though they wouldsoon destroy that calm, and fling forth all the fury of the winds. Theseclouds seemed to have started up from the sea, so sudden had been theirappearance; and now, as they gathered themselves together, their formsdistended, and heightened, and reached forward vast arms into the sky,striving to climb there, rolling upward voluminous cloud masses whichswiftly ascended toward the zenith. So quick was the progress of theseclouds that they did not seem to come from the banks below; but it wasrather as though all the air suddenly condensed its moisture and made itvisible in these dark masses.

  As yet there was no wind, and the water was as smooth as glass; but overthe wide surface, as far as the eye could reach, the long swell of theocean had changed into vast rolling undulations, to the motion of whichthe ship yielded, slowly ascending and descending as the waters roseand fell, while the yards creaked, and the rigging twanged to the strainupon them.

  Every moment the sky grew darker, and as gloom gathered above soit increased below, till all the sea spread out a smooth ebon mass.Darkness settled down, and the sun's face was thus obscured, and apreternatural gloom gathered upon the face of nature. Overhead vastblack clouds went sweeping past, covering all things, faster and faster,till at last far down in the northern sky the heavens were all obscured.

  But amidst all this there was as yet not a breath of wind. Far above thewind careered in a narrow current, which did not touch the surface ofthe sea but only bore onward the clouds. The agitation of the sky abovecontrasted with the stillness below made the latter not consoling butrather fearful, for this could be none other than that treacherousstillness which precedes the sudden outburst of the hurricane.

  For that sudden outburst all were now looking, expecting it everymoment. On the side of the ship where the wind was expected the captainwas standing, looking anxiously at the black clouds on the horizon, andall the crew were gazing there in sympathy with him. From thatquarter the wind would burst, and it was for this assault that all thepreparations had been made.

  "HE PUSHED HIM HEADLONG OVER THE RAIL AND HELPLESSLY INTOTHE SEA."]

  For some time Brandon had watched the collecting clouds, but atlength he turned away, and seemed to find a supreme fascination in thesand-bank. He stood at the stern of the ship, looking fixedly toward therock, his arms folded, and his thoughts all absorbed in that one thing.A low railing ran round the quarter-deck. The helmsman stood in asheltered place which rose only two feet above the deck. The captainstood by the companion-way, looking south at the storm; the mate wasnear the capstan, and all were intent and absorbed in their expectationof a sudden squall.

  Close by the rudder-post stood Cigole, looking with all the rest at thegathering storm. His face was only half turned, and as usual he watchedthis with only a furtive glance, for at times his stealthy eyes turnedtoward Brandon; and he alone of all on board did not seem to be absorbedby some overmastering thought.

  Suddenly a faint, fluttering ripple appeared to the southward; it camequickly: it seemed to flash over the waters; with the speed of thewind it moved on, till a quick, fresh blast struck the ship and sighedthrough the rigging. Then a faint breathing of wind succeeded; butfar away there rose a low moan like that which arises from some vastcataract at a great distance, whose roar, subdued by distance, soundsfaintly, yet warningly, to the ear.

  At this first touch of the tempest, and the menacing voice of itsapproach, not a word was spoken, but all stood mute. Brandon aloneappeared not to have noticed it. He still stood with folded arms andabsorbed air, gazing at the island.

  The roar of the waters in the distance grew louder, and in the directionfrom which it came the dark water was all white with foam, and theboiling flood advanced nearer in myriad-numbered waves, which seemed nowlike an army rushing to the charge, tossing on high its crested headsand its countless foam-plumes, and threatening to bear down all beforeit.

  At last the tornado struck.

  At the fierce blast of the storm the ship rolled far over, the mastscreaked and groaned, the waves rushed up and dashed against the side.

  At that instant Cigole darted quickly toward Brandon, and the momentthat the vessel yielded to the blow of the storm he fell violentlyagainst him. Before Brandon had noticed the storm or had time to steadyhimself he had pushed him headlong over the rail and helplessly into thesea--

  "--liquidae projecit in undas Praecipitem."

  Cigole clung to the rail, and instantly shrieked out:

  "Man overboard!"

  The startling cry rang through the ship. The captain turned round with aface of agony.

  "Man overboard!" shouted Cigole again. "Help! It's Brandon!"

  "Brandon!" cried the captain. "He's lost! O God!"

  He took up a hen-coop from its fastenings and flung it into the sea, anda couple of pails after it.

  He then looked aloft and to the south with eyes of despair. He coulddo nothing. For now the storm was upon them, and the ship was plungingfuriously through the waters with the speed of a race-horse at the touchof the gale. On the lee-side lay the sand-bank, now only three milesaway, whose unknown shallows made their present position perilous in theextreme. The ship could not turn to try and save the lost passenger; itwas only by keeping straight on that there was any hope of avoiding thatlee-shore.

  All on board shared the captain's despair, for all saw that nothingcould be done. The ship was at the mercy of the hurricane. To turn wasimpossible. If they could save their own lives now it would be as muchas they could do.

  Away went the ship--away, farther, and farther, every moment leaving ata greater distance the lost man who struggled in the waters.

  At last they had passed the danger, the island was left behind, and thewide sea lay all around.

  But by this time the storm was at its height; the ship could notmaintain its proper course, but, yielding to the gale, fled to thenorthwest far out of its right direction.