said Mr Parkley.
“Yes, three cruel blows,” hissed the Cuban, with his face distorted with rage.
“Then you must have deserved it,” cried Mr Parkley.
“You think so,” said the Cuban, growing unnaturally calm again. “Then I say I must have satisfaction somehow. Your partner makes me his enemy, and you must suffer. I shall not fulfil my contract. I will not take you where the galleons lie. You have made your preparations. Good. You must suffer for it, even as I suffer. I give up one of the dreams of my life. I will not go.”
A pang shot through Dutch Pugh’s breast, for in this refusal to depart he saw an excuse to remain in England, and once more the hot blood rose to his face.
“You absolutely refuse, then, to show Captain Studwick and me where the objects we seek are hid?” said Mr Parkley, turning up his cuffs as if he meant to fight; and the Cuban’s hand went into his breast.
“I absolutely refuse,” said the Cuban, disdainfully.
“You know, I suppose, that you forfeit half the result,” said Mr Parkley.
“Yes,” said the Cuban, moving towards the gangway, “I know I lose half the result.”
“You know I have spent five thousand pounds in preparations,” said Mr Parkley, calmly.
“Yes,” sneered the Cuban, “and you have your law. Go to it for revenge; it may please you.”
“No,” said Mr Parkley, looking round at the frowning faces of his friends; “that means spending another thousand to gain the day, and nothing to be obtained of a beggarly Cuban adventurer, who has neither money nor honour.”
“Take care!” cried Lauré, flashing into rage, and baring his teeth like some wild cat. But the next instant, with wonderful self-command, he cooled down, standing erect, proud and handsome, with his great black beard half-way down his breast. “Bah!” he exclaimed, “the English diving-master is angry, and stoops to utter coward’s insults.”
“I’ll show you, Mr Lorry, that I am no coward over this,” said Mr Parkley, firmly. “You mean to throw us over, then, now that we are ready to start.”
“You threaten to throw me over,” said the Cuban, smiling disdainfully. “If you mean, do I still refuse to go, I say yes! yes! yes! You and your partner shall never touch a single bar of the treasure. Ha! ha! What will you do now?”
“Start without you,” said Mr Parkley, coolly. “Captain Studwick, see that this man goes ashore.”
The Cuban was already close to the gangway, but he turned sharply round, and took a couple of steps towards the last speaker.
“What!” he said, with a look of apprehension flashing out of his eyes. “You will go yourself without one to guide you?”
“Yes,” said Mr Parkley; “and if you went down on your knees now to beg me, damme, sir, you’ve broke your contract, and I wouldn’t take you.”
“Ha – ha – ha – ha – ha!” laughed the Cuban, derisively, as he quickly recovered his composure. “A beggarly threat. Do you not know that it took me five years of constant toil to make the discovery? and you talk like this!”
“Yes,” said Mr Parkley. “It took a beggarly mongrel foreigner five years, no doubt; but it would not take an enterprising Englishman five weeks.”
The Cuban’s hand went into his breast again as he heard the words “beggarly mongrel foreigner,” and Captain Studwick grasped a marlin-spike, ready to strike his arm down if he drew a weapon; but the rage was crushed down directly, and Lauré laughed again derisively.
“Go, then, fools, if you like. But I know: it is an empty threat. Ha, ha, ha! Go alone. A pleasant voyage, Señor Parkley, and you, too, Señor Captain. You will perhaps find me there before you.”
“Perhaps,” said Mr Parkley. “But go I will, and hang me if I come back till I have found it.”
“Well, for the matter o’ that, Master Parkley and Capen Studwick,” said a rough voice, “if it means putting the schooner at anchor where them Spanish galleons was sunk in the Carib Sea, if you’ll let me take the wheel, and you’ll find fine weather, I’ll steer you to the very spot.”
Story 1-Chapter IX.
’Pollo’s Evidence
“What?” shrieked the Cuban, rushing forward, with outstretched hands, but only to control himself directly and smile contemptuously.
“I says as I’ll clap this here schooner right over two or three spots where old ships went down, and also off the coast where one 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
