Black Bartlemy's Treasure Part 27

"And how should you guess this, Adam?"

"By adding one and one, Martin. But even so, comrade, even though she stand by you--what can she do, or G.o.dby and I for that matter, 'gainst a whole s.h.i.+p's company crazed wi' panic fear--fear, aye and small wonder, Martin! Death is bad enough, murder's worse, but for three hearty fellows to disappear and leave no trace--"

"Aye, but was there no trace, Adam?"

"None, s.h.i.+pmate, none!"

"No blood anywhere?"

"Never a spot, s.h.i.+pmate!"

"Why then is there ever a man aboard with a wounded hand, Adam?"

"Not one to my knowing and I've turned up the crew on deck twice these last two days--every man and boy, but saw not so much as cut finger or stained garment among 'em--and I've sharp eyes, Martin. But why d'ye ask?"

"Because the man who made away with these three fellows was wounded in the hand, Adam--howbeit that hand was b.l.o.o.d.y."

"Hand, s.h.i.+pmate," says Penfeather softly, "would it be a right hand--ha?"

"It was!" I nodded. "The mark of a great right hand."

"Aye, aye!" says Adam, pinching his chin. "A right hand, Martin. And where was the mark, d'ye say?"

"Beneath my bed."

"Bed, Martin--your bed!" Here he caught his breath and rose up and stood looking down at me betwixt narrowed lids and a-pinching at his square chin.

"Aye--there, Adam, the only place in the s.h.i.+p you never thought to search--there he lay safe hid and I above him in a drugged sleep!"

"Drugged!" says Adam, betwixt shut teeth. "Aye ... drugged ... cra.s.s fool it was not to ha' guessed it ere this." And now he falls silent and stands very still, only his sinewy fingers pinched and pinched at his chin as he stared blindly down at the floor. So now I told him of my fevered dreams and black imaginations, of my growing fears and suspicions, of the eye had watched me through the knot-hole and of the man on the river with the boat wherein was the great mis-shapen bundle which had vanished just after the black s.h.i.+p ran foul of us.

"Lord!" says Adam at last. "So the mystery is resolved! The matter lies plain as a pikestaff. Ha, Martin, we've s.h.i.+pped the devil aboard it seems!"

"Who weareth a steel hook, Adam!"

"And yet, Martin, and yet," says he, looking at me from the corners of his eyes, "herein, if we seek far enough, we may find the hand of Providence, I think--"

"How?" says I. "Providence, d'ye call it?"

"Aye, Martin--if we do but seek far enough!" Here he turned in answer to a furtive rapping, and opening the door, I heard G.o.dby's voice.

"Come in, man, come in," says Adam, "here's only Martin."

"Aye," quoth I heartily, "come in, G.o.d-be-here Jenkins that was my friend." At this in he comes unwillingly enough and with never so much as a glance in my direction.

"Here's the wittles, Cap'n," says he, and setting down the food and drink he had brought, turned away.

"What, G.o.dby, ha' ye no word for a poor murderer in his abas.e.m.e.nt?"

says I. Whereat he shakes his head mighty gloomy and keeping his gaze averted. As for Adam he stood pinching his chin the while his quick, bright eyes darted from one to other of us.

"How, are ye going and never a word?" quoth I as G.o.dby crossed to the door.

"Aye, I am!" says he, with gaze still averted.

"Why you left me in mighty hurry last time, G.o.dby,"

"Aye, I did!" says he.

"Why then tell us wherefore--speak out, man."

"Not I, Martin, not I!" says he, and touching his bonnet to Penfeather hasted away.

"Ha!" says Adam, closing and locking the door. "And what's the riddle, Martin?"

"My doublet. G.o.dby, chancing to take it up, finds it all a-smear with blood and incontinent suspects me for this black murderer, which comes hard since here's an end of G.o.dby's faith and my friends.h.i.+p."

"Why look now, Martin, his suspicions are in reason seeing that what with drugs, deviltries and what not, you've been mighty strange o' late and more unlovely company than usual, d'ye see!"

"Howbeit!" says I, scowling and reaching for the food, "Here's an end to my friends.h.i.+p for G.o.dby. Now as to you--what d'you say?"

"I think, s.h.i.+pmate, that your doublet b.l.o.o.d.y and you the grimly, desperate, gallowsy, h.e.l.l-fire rogue you strive so hard to appear, Martin, I say here's enough to hang you ten times over. One thing is sure, you must leave this s.h.i.+p."

"Not I, Adam!"

"The long-boat's astern, victualled and ready."

"No matter!" says I.

"'Twill be no hard matter to get you safe away, Martin."

"Howbeit, I stay here!" says I, mighty determined. "I'm no murderer!"

"But you're a man to hang and hanged you'll be and you can lay to that, d'ye see?"

"So be it!" says I.

"Very fine, s.h.i.+pmate, but as I was saying the long-boat is towing astern, a good boat and well stored. The moon will be down in an hour--"

"And what of it?" I demanded.

"'Twill be easy for you to slip down from the stern gallery."

"Never in the world!" quoth I.

"And as luck will have it, Martin, Bartlemy's Island--our island--lieth scarce eighty miles south-westerly. Being thither you shall come on our treasure by the aid of the chart I shall give you, and leaving the gold, take only the four coffers of jewels--"

"You waste your breath, Adam!"

"Then, s.h.i.+pmate, with these jewels aboard you shall stand away for another island that beareth south a day's sail--"