Evening Republican, Volume 22, Number 154, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 30 June 1919 — PIECES of EIGHT: [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

PIECES of EIGHT:

BEING THE AUTHENTIC NARRATIVE OF A—TREASURE DISCOVERED IN'THE ISLANDS IN THE YEAR—tgos— GIVEN TO THE PUBLIC 7

by Richard Le Gallienne.

CQPnWG/fr&y

CHAPTER V. in Which We Begin to Understand Our Unwelcome Passenger, As 1 yawned and looked out of my cabin soon after dawn, about 4:30 next morning, there was no wind at all, and no hope of wind. As I stood out of the cabin hatch, however, there was—ejmugh breeze toflurter n piece of paper that had been caught In the mainsail halyard; it fluttered there lonely in the morning Nothing else was. astir but it and I and I took it up in my hand idly. As, I did so George reared libs head for’ard. “’Morning, George." I said; “1 guess we’ve got to run on gasoline “There ain’t no gasoline, sir. It’s run out in the night." “The tanks were filled when we started, weren’t they?" I asked. “Yes, sir." “We can’t have used them up so soon . . .” “No, sir—but someone has turned the cocks . . .” I stood dated for a moment, wondering how this cduld have happened—then a thought slowly dawned upon me. “Who has charge of them?" I said. George looked a little stupid, then defiant. , “I see,” I said; and, suddenly, without remembering Charlie Webster’s advice not to lose your temper with a negro—l realized that this was no accident, but a deliberate trick, something Indeed in the nature of a miniature mutiny. That fluttering paper I had picked from the halyard lay near my breakfast table. I had only half read it. Now its import catpe to me with full force. I had no firearms with me. Having a quick temper, I have made it a habit all my life never to carry a gun —because they go off so easily. But one tii”'’ essenthrb partr of w-gentle-man’s education had been mine, so I applied it instantly on George, with the result that a well-directed blow under, the peak of the jaw sent him sprawling, and for awhile speechless, iu the cockpit. . “No gasoline?” I said. And then my passenger—l must give him credit for the courage—put up his head for’ard, and called out: “I protest against that; it's a cowardly outrage. You wouldn’t dare to do it to a white man.” “Oh,. I see,” I rejoined. “So you are the author of this precious paper here, are you? Come over here.and talk it over, if you’ve the courage.” “I’ve got the courage. ’ he answered, in a shaking voice. “All right,” I said; “you’re safe for the present—and, George, who is so fond of sleep, will take quite a nap for a while, I thin};.” “You English brute!” he said. “You English brute!” he had said; and the words had impelled me to invite him aft; for I cannot deny a cerfor him that had mysteriously grown up in me. “Come here I” I said, “for your life is safe for the time being. I would like to discuss this paper with you.” He came and we read it together, Muttering as I had Seen it flutter in his fingers as he read it for’ard to the engineer and to the deckhand. It begad: “Think how many we are! Think i what we could do I It isn’t either that we haven’t intelligence—if only we ;were to use it. We don’t lack leaders | —we don’t lack courage—we don’t lack imartyrs; all are ready—” J I stopped reading. “Why don’t you start then?” I asked. “We’re waiting for Jamaica,” he answered; “she’s almost ready." “It sounds a pretty good idea to me,” I remarked, “from your point of ,'vlew. ‘From your point of/view,’ remember, I said; but you mustnft think that yours is mine—not for one moment —O dear no I On the contrary, '■my point, of view is that of the gov-

ernor of Nassau, or his representative, quite nearby, at Harbour island, isn’t it?” My pock-marked friend grew a trifle green as I“^aid this. “We have sails still, remember,” I resumed. “George and the lost gasoline are not everything. Five hour#, with anything of a wind, would bring us to Harbour island, and —with this paper in my hand it would be—what do you think yourself? The gallows?" My friend grew grafe at that, and seemed to be thinking hard inside, making resolutions the full force of which I didn’t understand till later, but the immediate result of which was a graciousness of manner which did. not entirely deceive me. “Oh,” he said, “I don’t think you (quite mean that iou re linpulsTv?^ - ns when you hit that poor boy down there—” “Well,” I observed, “I'm willing to treat you better than you deserve. “So, I'll say nothing about this, if you like" (pointing to the manuscript), “and if the wind holds, put you ashore tomorrow at Spanish Wells. I like you in spite of myself. Is it a bargain?” On this we parted, and. as I thought, with a certain friendliness on both sides. There was no sailing wind, so there was nothing to do but stay where we were all day. I spent most of the time in my cabin, reading a novel, and, soon after trine, Meli asleep in a frame of mint! unaccountably trustful. I suppose that I had been asleep about three hours when I was disturbed by a tremendous roar. It was Sailor (who always slept near me) out ’on the cockpit with a man under his paws—his jaws at the man’s throat. 1 called him off, and saw that it was my pock-marked friend, with his right hand extended in the cockpit and a revolver a few inches away from it. So far as I knew it was the only firearm on the ship. “Let’s get hold of that first, Sailor,” I said, and I slipped it into my hip pocket. “Wake up. Tom," I called, and, “wake up, captainl” Meanwhile, I took, out the revolver from my hip pocket, and

held it over the man I, seemed to grow more and more sorry for. “We’ve not only got a mutiny aboard,” I told the captain, “but we've got treason to the British government. Do you want to stand for that? Gr shall I put you ashore with the rest?” Unruffled as usual, he had nothing to say beyond: “Ay. ay. sir!” “Take this eord, then,” I ordered tpm and Tom, “and bind the hands of this pock-marked gentleman here; also of George, engineer; and also of Theodore, the deckhand. Bind them well. And throw them into the dingy, with a bottle of water apiece, and a loaf ot bread. By noon, we’ll have souie wind, and can make our way to Harbour island, apd there I’ll have a little talk with'uie commandant.” . And as I ordered, all was done. Tom and I rowed the dingy ashore, with our three captives bound like three silly fowls, apd presently threw them ashore with precious little ceremony. Then we got back to the Maggie Darling, with imprecations in our ears, and particularly the promises of the pock-marked rebel, who announced the certainty of our meeting again. Of course we laughed at such threats, but I confess that, as I went down to my and picked up the

“manifesto,” -which had been forgoTTW in all the turmoil, I could not escape n certain thrill as I read the signature —for it was: “Henry P. Tobias. Jr." That night we made Harbour island, and met that welcome that can only be .met at the lonely ends of the earth. The commandant and the clergyman took me under their wings on the spot, and, though there was a good hotel, the commandant didn’t consider It good enough for me. I liked the attitude they took toward my adventure. Their comments on “Henry P. Tobias, Jr.” and the paper I had with me, were specially enlightening. > ■ —-•- “The black meh themselves,” they both agreed, “are all right, except, of course, here and there. It’s -fellows like this precious Tobias, .real white trash —the negroes’ name for them is apt enough—that are the danger for the friendship of both races. And It's the vein of a sort of a literary idealism in a fellow like Tobias that makes him the more dangerous. He’s not all to the bad—• ”

“I couldn’t help thinking that too,” I interrupted. “Oh, no,” they said, “hut he’s a bit mad, too. That’s his trouble. He’s got a personal, as well as an abstract, grudge against the British government.” “Treasure?” I laughed. “How did youknow?” they asked. “Never mind; I somehow got the idea.” “Take a word of*advice. Have a fdw guns with you, for you’re liable to need them.” “I agree.” I remarked. “I'll take The gufi's an right, but I’m afraid I'll need some more crew. I mean I’ll want an engineer, and. another deckhand.” And. just as I said this, there came up some one post-haste from the village; some one, too, that wanted the clergyman, as well as me, for my captain was ill, and at the point of death. “What on earth can be the trouble?” I said, but, the three of us, including th e Com ma nd an i went. We *found the captain lying in his berth, writhing with cramps. “What on earth have you been doing with yourself, Cap?” I asked. “I did nothing, sir, but eat my dinner, ami- drink that claret you were kind enough to give me.” “The half-bottle of cltiret?” “Yes, sir, the very same.” -.“Well, there was nothing to hurt you in that,” I said. “Did you take it half and half with water, as 1 told you ?” “I did indeed, sir.” “It’s very.funny,” I said. And then ns he began to writhe and stiffen, I called out to Tom: “Get some rum, Tom, and nufke it boiling hot, quick—quick! We must get him into a sweat.” Very soon we did. Then I said to Tom : •

"What do you make out of this smell that's coming from him, Tom?” “Kerosene, sar,” said Tom. “I thought the very same,” I said. Tom beckoned me to go with him to the galley, and showed me several quart bottles of water standing on a shelf. “Two of these were kerosene,” he said “and I suppose Cap made a mistake;" for one looked as clear as the other. Then I took one of them back to the captain. “Was it a bottle like this you mixed with the claret?” I asked. “Sure it was, sir,”, he answered, writhing hard with the cramps. “But man!” I said. “Couldn’t you tell the difference between that and water?” “I-thought it tasted funny, boss, but I wasn’t used to claret.” And then we had to laugh again, and I thought old Tom would die. “A nigger’s stomach and his head,” said the commandant, “are about the same.' 1 really don’t know which is thd 'stronger.” The captain didn’t die, though he came pretty near to it. In fact, he took so long getting on his feet, that we couldn’t wait for him; so we had practically to look out for a-new crew, with the exception of Tom, and Sailor. The commandant proved a good friend to us in this, choosing three somewhat characterless men, with good “characters.” .As we said goodby, with a spanking southwest breezp blowing. I could see that he was a little anxious about me. “Take care of yourself,” he said, “for you must remember none of us can take care of you. There’s no settlement where you’re going—no telegraph or-wireless; you cpuld be murdered, and none of us hear of it for a month, or forever. And the fellows you’re after are a dangerous lot, take my word for it. Keep a good watch on your guns, and we’ll be on the lookout for the first news of ydu, and anything we can do we’ll be there, you bet” CHAPTER VI. In Which the Sucking Fish Has a Chance to Showjts Virtue.. The breeze was so strong that we didn’t use our engine that day. Besides, I wanted to take a little time thinking over my plans. I spent most of the time studying the charts and pondering John P. Tobias’ narrative, which threw very little light on the situation. There was little definite to go by but his mark ofthe compass engraven on a certain rock in a wilderness of rocks; and such rocks as they were at that I looked well to my guns! The commandant had made me accept the loan of a particularly expert revolver that was, I could see, as the apple of his eye. He must have cared for me a

great <teiii to have ienr it me, and R was right as the things we love. Then I called Tom to me; “How about lhat sucking flsh, Tom?” I asked. “It’s just cured, sar,” he. said. “I was going to offer it to you this lunch rime. It’s dried out fine; couldn’t be better. I’ll bring it to you this minute.” And he went and was back again in a moment. “You must wear Jt right over your heart,” he said, “and you’ll see there’s not a bullet can get near it. It’s never been known for a bullet to go through a sucking fish. It’s God’s truth.” “But, Tom,” I said, “how about you?” “I’ve worn one here, sar, for twenty years, and you can see for yourself”— and he bared the brown chest beneath which beat the heart that like nothing else in the wqrld has made me believe in God.” We awoke to a dawn that was a rose planted in the sky by the mysterious hand that seems to love to give the fairest thing the loneliest setting. But there was no wind, so that day we ran on, gasoline. We had some fifty miles to go to where the narra-

five pointed, a smaller cay, the cay known in old days as “Dead Men’s Shoes” —but since known by another name which, for various reasons, I do not deem it polite to divulge-Aiear the end of the long cay down which we were running. About twilight we dropped anchor in another quiet bay, so much like that of the night before, as all the bays and cays are along that coast, that you need to have sailed them from boyhood to know one from another. , The cove we were looking for, known by the cheery name of Dead Men’s Shoes, proved farther off than we expected, so that we didn’t come to it till toward the middle of the next afternoon, an afternoon of the most innocent gold that has ever thrown its soft radiance over an earth inhabited for the most part by ruffians and scoundrels. We soon found that we were not alone in the cave. “She’s changed her paint,” said Tom, at my elbow. And, looking round, I saw that our rakish schooner with the black hull was now white as a dove; and, in that soft golden water, hardly a foot and a half deep, five shadowy young sharks floated, with outstretched fins like huge bats. Our engineer, who was already wading fearlessly in Qie water, beautifully naked, “shooed” them off, like chickens. But it was soon to be evident that more dangerous foes waited for us on the shore.

Yet there was seemingly nothing there but a pile of sponges, and a few black men. The Susan B. had'changed her color, it was true, but she was a well-known sponger, and I noticed no one that I recognized. There wqs one-foolish fellow that reminded m’e of my shackly deckhand, whom I had always thought out of his mind, standing there on his head on the rocks, and waving his legs to attract attention. “Why! There’s Silly Theodore,” called out the captain. “I’m going ashore,” I said. “I’m going with you too/’ said the captain. “But look after your guns. There’s going to be something doing—quiet as it looks.” So we rowed ashore, and there was Theodore capering in front of a pile of s’ponges, but no other face that 1 knew. But there’Vere seven or eight negroes whose looks I took no great liking to. “Like some fancy sponges to send home?” said one of th?se, coming up to me. “Cost you five times as much in Nassau.” . » “Certainly rd like a few sponges,” I said. - - And then Theodore Came up to me, looking as though he bad lost his mind over the rather fancy silk tie I happened to be wearing. -- “€3ve me dat!” he said, touching it, like a crazy man.

• Events prove that the sucking fish is quite necessary, as mascots are in great demand , - ' ' ■ . ’ , ' (TO BE CONTINUED.)

It Was Sailor—His Jaws at a Man’s Throat.

“Give Me Dat!” He Said.