Dutch the Diver: or, A Man's Mistake. Fenn George Manville
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on ’em lies buried in the sand, all but her ribs and a few planks,” said the old sailor, Sam Oakum.
“He’s a liar – a cheat. Bah!” exclaimed the Cuban with contempt.
“I wouldn’t adwise you to say them sorter things, gov’nor,” said Oakum, quietly. “I knowd a chap as rubbed the skin off the bridge of his nose wunst and blacked both his eyes agin my fist for saying less than that.”
“Bah!” said the Cuban, snapping his fingers.
“And do you know, Oakum?” exclaimed Mr Parkley, eagerly. “Can you prove it?”
“If anybody would pass a man a bit o’ ’bacco, I could, I dessay,” said the old fellow quietly. “Thanky, mate. Just pass the word for ’Pollo to come aft, will you? He’s in the galley.”
A sailor who had given Oakum the tobacco ran forward, while all waited in breathless attention – the Cuban standing like a statue, with folded arms, but, in spite of his apparent composure, smoking furiously, like a volcano preparing for an eruption.
The sailor came back directly.
“Says he’s cooking the passengers’ dinner, and can’t leave it, sir,” said the sailor.
“Tell the cook to come here directly. I want him,” exclaimed the captain, sternly; and the sailor ran off, returning with ’Pollo, the black cook, rubbing his shiny face.
“I speck, sah, if de rose meat burn himself all up, you no blame de cook, sah,” he said.
“No, no, ’Pollo; only answer a question or two.”
“Yes, sah; d’reckly, sah.”
“Look ye here, ’Pollo, old mate,” said Oakum; “you and I have had some rum voyages in our time, old nigger.”
“You call me ole mate, sah,” said ’Pollo, angrily, “I answer hundred tousan queshtum. You call me nigger, sah, I dam if I say noder word.”
“It’s all right, ’Pollo, I won’t any more. You’re a coloured gentleman; and, though I chaff you sometimes, I know that I can always depend on you, fair weather or foul.”
The black nodded, showed his white teeth, and his eyes twinkled.
“Now look here, ’Pollo, old man; do you remember being in the little brig off Caraccas, when we had the gold?”
“Yes, sah, I membah well; and membah when we had do tree hundred lilly women aboard de big ship, and de big horse alligator woman. Yah, yah, yah!”
“So do I, ’Pollo; but what did we do when we were in the brig?”
“Catch de fish,” said ’Pollo.
“To be sure we did; but what did we find lying down fathoms deep in the clear water?”
“You mean de ole ’Panish gold ship, sah?”
“There!” said Sam Oakum, turning round with a grim smile on his mahogany face; “Ain’t that there corroborative evidence, sir?”
“We find two ole ship, sah, and one on de shore,” said ’Pollo, volubly, “and I dibe down, sah.”
“Did you find anything?” said Mr Parkley, eagerly.
“No, sah, him too deep down, but I membah perfect well, sah, all about ’em. All ’Panish ship, sah.”
“That will do, ’Pollo,” said Mr Parkley. “Now go and see to the dinner. By-the-way, ’Pollo, will you come into the cabin after dinner, and join Mr Oakum in drinking a glass of wine to the success of our voyage?”
“I hab great pleasure, sah,” said the black, with his eyes twinkling; and as he went away bowing and smiling, Mr Parkley turned to the Cuban.
“Now, Mr Lorry, or Lauré, or whatever your name is, will you have the goodness to step ashore? This is my ship, and this expedition belongs to me and my partner. You have refused to carry out your contract before twenty witnesses, and now you see that I can do without you.”
“But,” said Lauré, “the man is mad. He cannot take you; but I will not carry my revenge so far. Make me a good concession and I will consent to go.”
“I thank you, Señor Lauré, for endorsing the statement of our old friend, Oakum, and the ship’s cook, and since you are so kind, I will make you a concession.”
“You consent,” said the Cuban, more eagerly than he intended.
“Yes,” said Mr Parkley. “You shall be allowed to walk off the ship instead of being kicked off. Captain Studwick, see that man off this deck.”
A look that was almost demoniacal overspread the Cuban’s face, and shaking his fist menacingly, he stepped on to the wharf and disappeared through the crowd.
“Now, then,” said Mr Parkley, triumphantly, “we are ready. Captain Studwick, westward ho! Hallo, what now? What is it, Rasp?” as that individual came panting up.
“Are you sure as you’ve got all your company aboard?” said Rasp.
“Yes, I think so. Eh, captain?”
“My crew is all right, certainly,” said the captain. “I don’t know anything about yours.”
“To be sure, I did not think to look after them as they had promised to be aboard in good time. Where are John Tolly and James Morrison?”
“What, them?” said Oakum. “Oh, they came aboard at nine this morning.”
“Yes,” said one of the sailors, “but they went ashore again about ten; I saw ’em go.”
“There,” said Rasp, “where would you have been without me? I see John Tolly go by the orfice half-an-hour ago, so drunk he could hardly walk, and Morrison as well, and – ”
“Tut, tut, tut! we must have them,” exclaimed Mr Parkley. “The scoundrels! to deceive us like this. Pugh, come ashore, we must get the police to help us.”
“Then we shall not sail to-day,” said the captain, with a shrug. “Never mind, we shall have the more time for getting ship-shape.”
“Nonsense!” said Mr Parkley eagerly; “we shall soon be back.”
The captain shook his head, for he knew better; and night had fallen, and no more had been seen of the two divers on whom so much depended.
As the day wore on, Mr Parkley and Dutch returned to the ship two or three times to report progress, if such it could be called, for nothing was heard of the two divers.
“Dutch Pugh,” said Mr Parkley, on one of these meetings, “I shall never forgive myself. Here am I, as I thought, such a business-like man, and what do I do but go and forget to look after the very mainspring of my works. I fit all my wheels together, and then when I want to wind up there’s no springs. What should we have done without divers?”
Night closed in without success, and a little party assembled in the cabin, for as the ship might sail at any time, those who occupied the place of passengers felt that it was hardly worth while to return ashore. Mr Parkley kept a bright face on the matter, but it was evident that he was a good deal dispirited, though he chatted merrily enough, and talked to John Studwick and his sister of the beauties of the land they were about to visit.
“If we get off, Mr Parkley,” said John Studwick, quietly.
“Get off, sir; why of course we shall. These two scoundrels will come off to-morrow morning, penniless, and with sick headaches. The rascals!”
Mr Parkley was reckoning without his host, for at that moment the two divers, each with twenty pounds in his pocket above the advance pay he had drawn, were on their way to London, and the man who had given the money was now forward in the darkest part of the deck, crouching beneath the high bulwarks of the large three-masted schooner, whispering with one of the men.
Their discussion seemed to take a long time, but it ended in the other man of the watch joining them, and the conversation still went on.
It