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  CHAPTER I

  OF WHAT BEFELL ON PEMBURY HILL

  It was a night of tempest with rain and wind, a great wild wind thatshouted mightily near and far, filling the world with halloo; while,ever and anon, thunder crashed and lightning flamed athwart the muddyroad that wound steeply up betwixt grassy banks topped by swayingtrees. Broken twigs, whirling down the wind, smote me in the dark,fallen branches reached out arms that grappled me unseen, but I held onsteadfastly, since every stride carried me nearer to vengeance, thatvengeance for the which I prayed and lived. So with bared head liftedexulting to the tempest and grasping the stout hedge-stake that servedme for staff, I climbed the long ascent of Pembury Hill.

  Reaching the summit at last I must needs stay awhile to catch my breathand shelter me as well as I might 'neath the weather bank, for uponthis eminence the rain lashed and the wind smote me with a furyredoubled.

  And now, as I stood amid that howling darkness, my back propped by thebank, my face lifted to the tempest, I was aware of a strange sound,very shrill and fitful, that reached me 'twixt the booming wind-gusts,a sound that came and went, now loud and clear, anon faint and remote,and I wondered what it might be. Then the rushing dark was splitasunder by a jagged lightning-flash, and I saw. Stark against theglare rose black shaft and crossbeam, wherefrom swung a creaking shapeof rusty chains and iron bands that held together something shrivelledand black and wet with rain, a grisly thing that leapt on the buffetingwind, that strove and jerked as it would fain break free and hurlitself down upon me.

  Now hearkening to the dismal creak of this chained thing, I fell tomeditation. This awful shape (thought I) had been a man once, hale andstrong,--even as I, but this man had contravened the law (even as Ipurposed to do) and he had died a rogue's death and so hung, rotting,in his chains, even as this my own body might do some day. And,hearkening to the shrill wail of his fetters, my flesh crept withloathing and I shivered. But the fit passed, and in my vain pride Ismote my staff into the mud at my feet and vowed within myself thatnought should baulk me of my just vengeance, come what might; as myfather had suffered death untimely and hard, so should die the enemy ofmy race; for the anguish he had made me endure so should he knowanguish. I bethought me how long and deadly had been this feud ofours, handed down from one generation to another, a dark,blood-smirched record of bitter wrongs bitterly avenged. "To hate likea Brandon and revenge like a Conisby!" This had been a saying in oursouth country upon a time; and now--he was the last of his race as Iwas the last of mine, and I had come back out of hell that this sayingmight be fulfilled. Soon--ha, yes, in a few short hours the feudshould be ended once and for all and the house of Conisby avenged tothe uttermost. Thinking thus, I heeded no more the raving tempestaround me until, roused by the plunge and rattle of the gibbet-chains,I raised my head and shaking my staff up at that black and shrivelledthing, I laughed loud and fierce, and, even as I did so, there leapt agreat blaze of crackling flame and thereafter a thunder-clap thatseemed to shake the very earth and smite the roaring wind to awedsilence; and in this silence, I heard a whisper:

  "O mercy of God!"

  Somewhere in the darkness hard by a woman had cried. Instinctively Iturned thitherward, searching the night vainly until the lightningflared again and I beheld a cloaked and hooded figure huddled miserablyagainst the bank of the road, and, as darkness came, I spoke:

  "Woman, doth the gibbet fright you, or is't I? If 'tis the gibbet gohence, if 'tis I rest assured."

  "Who are you?" said a breathless voice.

  "One of no more account than the poor thing that danceth aloft in hischains and for you as harmless."

  And now she was beside me, a dark, wind-blown shape, and above thehowling tempest her voice reached me in passionate pleading:

  "Sir--sir, will you aid one in sore danger and distress?"

  "Yourself?" I questioned.

  "Nay--indeed nay," she panted, "'tis Marjorie, my poor, poor braveMarjorie. They stopped my coach--drunken men. I know not what came ofGregory and I leapt out and escaped them in the dark, butMarjorie--they carried her off--there is a light down the lane yonder.I followed and saw--O sir, you will save Marjorie--you are a man--"

  A hand was upon my ragged sleeve, a hand that gripped and shook at mein desperate supplication--"You will save her from--from worse thandeath? Speak--speak!"

  "Lead on!" quoth I, answering this compelling voice. The gripingfingers slipped down and clasped my hand in the dark, and with neveranother word she led me away unseeing and unseen until we came where wewere more sheltered from rain and wind; and now I took occasion tonotice that the hand that gripped mine so masterfully was small andsoft, so that what with this and her voice and speech I judged her oneof condition. But my curiosity went no further nor did I question her,for in my world was no place for women. So she led me on at hastedespite the dark--like one that was sure of her whereabouts--until Isuddenly espied a dim light that shone out from the open lattice ofwhat I judged to be a small hedge-tavern. Here my companion haltedsuddenly and pointed to the light.

  "Go!" she whispered. "Go--nay, first take this!" and she thrust asmall pistol into my hand. "Haste!" she panted, "O haste--and I dopray God shield and bless you." Then with never a word I left her andstrode towards the beam of light.

  Being come nigh the casement I paused to cock the weapon and to glanceat the priming, then, creeping to the open lattice, I looked into theroom.

  Three men scowled at each other across a table--desperate-lookingfellows, scarred and ill-featured, with clothes that smacked of thesea; behind them in a corner crouched a maid, comely of seeming butpallid of cheek and with cloak torn by rough hands, and, as shecrouched, her wide eyes stared at the dice-box that one of the men wasshaking vigorously--a tall, hairy fellow this, with great rings in hisears; thus stood he rattling the dice and smiling while his companionscursed him hoarsely.

  With a twist of the hand the hairy man made his throw, and as the threeevil heads stooped above the dice, I clambered through the window,levelled pistol in one hand, heavy staff in the other.

  "What d'ye set?" quoth I. The three sprang apart and stared at mequite chapfallen.

  "What's to do?" growled one.

  "First your barking-irons--lay them here on the table and quick's theword!" One after another they drew the weapons from their belts, andone by one I tossed them through the window.

  "What!" quoth one, a lank rogue with a patch over one eye and winkingthe other jovial-wise, "How now, mate o' mine, shall dog bite dog then?"

  "Aye," says I, "and with a will!"

  "Nay, nay, shipmate," quoth another, a plump, small man with round,bright eyes and but one ear, "easy now--easy. We be three lornmariners d'ye see--jolly dogs, bully boys, shipmate--a little fun wi' apretty lass--nought to harm d'ye see, sink me! Join us and welcome,says I, share and share alike O!"

  "Aye, I'll join you," quoth I, "but first--you wi' the rings--open thedoor!" Here the hairy fellow growled an oath and reached for an emptytankard, and thereupon got the end of my staff driven shrewdly into hismidriff so that he sank to the floor and lay gasping.

  "Nay now, shipmate," quoth the plump man in wheedling tone but roundeyes snapping, "here's lubberly manners, sink and scuttle me--"

  "Open the door!" says I.

  "Heartily--heartily!" says he, his eye upon my cudgel, and edging tothe door, drew the bolts and set it wide.

  "Woman," quoth I, "run!"

  With never a word the maid sprang erect, caught her torn cloak abouther and, speeding across the room, was gone; whereupon the lank fellowsat him down and fell a-cursing viciously in Spanish and English, theplump man clicked his teeth and grinned, while 'Rings,' leaning againstthe wall, clasped his belly and groaned.

  "Well so, my bully roarer, and what now?" demanded the plump man,softly.

  "Why now," says I, "'twas share and share alike, I mind--"

  "Aye, but she's off, slipped her moorings d'ye see, my good lad, and bedamned t' ye wi' all my h
eart," said the little plump man, smiling, butwith the devil peeping through his narrowed lids.

  "Look'ee," says I, laying a groat upon the table, "there's my all--cometurn out your pockets--"

  "Pockets!" murmured the plump man, "Lord love me, what's this? Here'sus cheated of a bit of daintiness, here's Abner wi' all the windknocked out o' him and now here's you for thieving and robbing threepoor lorn sailor-men as never raised hand agin ye--shame, shipmate."

  "Od rot your bones!" snarled the one-eyed man and spat towards me,whereat I raised my staff and he, lifting an arm, took the blow on hiselbow-joint and writhed, cursing; but while I laughed at the fellow'scontortions, the plump man sprang (marvellous nimble) and dashed outthe light and, as I stepped from before the window, I heard the latticego with a crash of glass. Followed a long, tense moment wherein we all(as I judge) held our breath, for though the storm yet roared beyondthe shattered casement, within was a comparative quiet. Thus, as Istood in the dark listening for some rustle, some stealthy creepingstep to guide my next blow, I thrust away my pistol and changing mystaff to my right hand, drew forth the broad-bladed sailor's knife Icarried, and so waited mighty eager and alert, but heard only thefar-off booming of the wind. Then a floorboard creaked faintly to myleft, and turning short, I whirled my staff, felt it strike home andheard a fierce cry and the uneven tread of staggering feet.

  "Fight, rogues!" cried I. "Here's meat and drink to me--fight!" andsetting my back to the wall I waited for their rush. Instead I heard ahoarse whispering, lost all at once in a woman's shrill scream outbeyond the casement, and thereafter a loud voice that hailed:

  "House ho! House ahoy! Light ho! Show a glim, ye drunken dogs!" andhere followed a rush of roaring sea-oaths, drowned in a scream, louder,wilder than before. Then, while this distressful cry yet thrilled uponthe air, pandemonium broke loose about me, shouts, cries and a rush andtrample of feet; the table went over with a crash and the darknessabout me rained blows. But as they struck random and fierce, so struckI and (as I do think) made right goodly play with my hedge-stake until,caught by a chance blow, I staggered, tripped and, falling headlong,found myself rolling upon sodden grass outside the shattered window.For a moment I lay half-dazed and found in the wind and rain vastycomfort and refreshment.

  Then in the pitchy gloom hard by I heard that which brought me to myfeet--an evil scuffling, a close and desperate struggling--a man'shoarse laugh and a woman's pitiful pleading and sobbing. I had lost mystaff, but I yet grasped my knife, and with this held point upwards andmy left hand outstretched before me, I crept forward guided by thesesounds. My fingers came upon hair, a woman's long, soft tresses, and Iremember marvelling at the silky feel of them; from these my handslipped to her waist and found there an arm that grasped her close,then, drawing back my hand, I smote with my knife well beneath this armand drove in the stout blade twice. The fellow grunted and, loosingthe maid, leapt full at me, but I met him with clenched fist and hewent down headlong, and I, crouched above him and feeling him struggleto his knees, kicked him back into the mud and thereafter leapt on himwith both feet as I had been wont to do when fighting my fellow-slavesin some lazarette; then, seeing he stirred no more, I left him,doubting nothing I had done his business. Yet as I went I felt myselfshiver, for though I had been compelled to fight the naked wretches whohad been my fellow-slaves, I had killed no man as yet.

  Thus as I went, chancing to stumble against a tree, I leaned thereawhile; and now remembering those two blows under the armpit, what withthis stabbing and my fall and lack of food, for I had eaten but oncethat day, I grew faint and sick. But as I leaned there, out of thegloom came a hand that fumbled timidly my bowed head, my arm, my hand.

  "Sir--are you hurt?" questioned a voice, and here once again I wasstruck by the strange, vital quality of this voice, its bell-like depthand sweetness.

  "No whit!" says I. Now as I spoke it chanced she touched the knife inmy grasp and I felt her shiver a little.

  "Did you--O sir--did you--kill him?"

  "And wherefore no?" I questioned. "And why call me 'sir'?"

  "You do speak as one of gentle birth."

  "And go like the beggar I am--in rags. I am no 'sir.'"

  "How may I call you?"

  "Call me rogue, thief, murderer--what ye will, 'tis all one. But asfor you," quoth I, lifting my head, "'tis time you were gone--seeyonder!" and I pointed where a light winked through the trees, a lightthat danced to and fro, coming slowly nearer until it stopped all atonce, then rose a shout answered by other shouts and a roar of dismayedblasphemy. At this my companion pressed nearer so that I felt hershiver again.

  "Let us be gone!" she whispered. "Marjorie, come, child, let ushaste." So we went on together at speed, and ever as we went thatsmall, soft hand was upon the hand that held the knife. So we sped onthrough the dark, these two maids and I, unseeing and unseen, speakinglittle by reason of our haste.

  Presently the rain ceased, the wind abated its rage and the thunderpealed faint with distance, while ever and anon the gloom gave place toa vague light, where, beyond the flying cloud-wrack, a faint moonpeeped.

  Guided by that slender hand, so soft and yet instinct with warm andvigorous life, I stumbled on through leafy ways, traversed a littlewood, on and ever on until, the trees thinning, showed beyond a glimmerof the great high road. Here I stayed.

  "Madam," says I, making some ado over the unfamiliar word. "You shouldbe safe now--and, as I do think, your road lieth yonder."

  "Pembury is but a mile hence," says she, "and there we may get horses.Come, at least this night you shall find comfort and shelter."

  "No," says I. "No--I am a thing of the roads, and well enough in hedgeor rick!" and I would have turned but her hand upon my sleeverestrained me.

  "Sir," says she, "be you what you will, you are a man! Who you are Iknow and care not--but you have this night wrought that I shallnevermore forget and now I--we--would fain express our gratitude--"

  "Indeed and indeed!" said the maid Marjorie, speaking for the firsttime.

  "I want no gratitude!" says I, mighty gruff.

  "Yet shall it follow thee, for the passion of gratitude is strong andmay not be denied--even by beggar so proud and arrogant!" And now,hearkening to this voice, so deep and soft and strangely sweet, I knewnot if she laughed at me or no; but even as I debated this withinmyself, she lifted my hand, the hand that grasped the knife, and I feltthe close, firm pressure of two warm, soft lips; then she had freed meand I fell back a step, striving for speech yet finding none.

  "God love me!" quoth I at last. "Why must you--do so!"

  "And wherefore not?" she questioned proudly.

  "'Tis the hand of a vagrant, an outcast, a poor creeper o' ditches!"says I.

  "But a man's hand!" she answered.

  "'Tis at hand that hath slain once this night and shall slay again eremany hours be sped." Now here I heard her sigh as one that is troubled.

  "And yet," says she gently, "'tis no murderer's hand and you that arevagrant and outcast are no rogue."

  "How judge ye this, having never seen me?" I questioned.

  "In that I am a woman. For God hath armed our weakness with a gift ofknowledge whereby we may oft-times know truth from falsehood, the noblefrom the base, 'spite all their outward seeming. So do I judge you norogue--a strong man but very--aye, very young that, belike, hathsuffered unjustly, and being so young art fierce and impatient of allthings, and apt to rail bitterly 'gainst the world. Is't not so?"

  "Aye," says I, marvelling, "truly 'tis like witchcraft--mayhap you willspeak me my name." At this she laughed (most wonderful to hear andvastly so to such coarse rogue as I, whose ears had long been strangersto aught but sounds of evil and foul obscenity):

  "Nay," says she, "my knowledge of you goeth no further--but--" (andhere she paused to fetch a shuddering breath) "but for him youkilled--that two-legged beast! You did but what I would have donefor--O man, had you not come I--I should have killed him, maid though Iam!
See, here is the dagger I snatched from his girdle as he strovewith me. O, take it--take it!" And, with a passionate gesture, shethrust the weapon into my grasp.

  "O madam--my lady!" cried her companion, "Look, yonder belights--lanthorns aflare on the road. 'Tis Gregory as I do think, withfolk come to seek for us. Shall we go meet them?"

  "Nay wait, child--first let us be sure!" So side by side we stood allthree amid the dripping trees, watching the tossing lights that grewever nearer until we might hear the voices of those that bare them,raised, ever and anon, in confused shouting.

  "Aye, 'tis Gregory!" sighed my lady after some while. "He hath raisedthe village and we are safe--"

  "Hark!" cried I, starting forward. "What name do they cry upon?"

  "Mine, sir!"

  "Oho, my lady!" roared the hoarse chorus. "Oho, my Lady Joan--my LadyBrandon--Brandon--Brandon!"

  "Brandon!" cried I, choking upon the word.

  "Indeed, sir--I am the Lady Joan Brandon of Shene Manor, and so long aslife be mine needs must I bear within my grateful heart the memory of--"

  But, waiting for no more, I turned and sprang away into the densergloom of the wood. And ever as I went, crashing and stumbling throughthe underbrush, above the noise of my headlong flight rang the hatedname of the enemy I had journeyed so far to kill--"Brandon! Brandon!Brandon!"