STORY ONE, CHAPTER FORTY.

A DREARY TIME.

The occupants of the two boats, as they lay together that evening beneath the spangled canopy of heaven, little thought that the third of the schooner's boats lay within a few miles of them, with Laure on board, or they would not have slept in turn so peacefully and in such calm hope of being saved, for as the schooner sank with its treasure it seemed to all on board that with the silver sank the kind of curse that had been upon them all along.

It was an empty sense of superst.i.tion, but it influenced them and cheered them on through the long, sunny, scorching days as they bent to their oars and toiled on; and in the evenings, when, taking advantage of the soft breezes, the little sails were spread, and they crept on ever north and east in the hope of gaining the course of one of the vessels going south or west. But the days stole slowly by, and no sail gladdened their sight, and at last, as the water grew low in the little breakers and the provisions threatened to become exhausted, Dutch felt his heart sink, and told himself with a bitter smile that they had not yet worn out the power of the curse, if curse there were.

After long days of rowing, in which every man in the boats took part in urging them up the sides of the long rollers and then down their hill-like descent, the feeling of weary la.s.situde made itself more and more felt. They suffered, too, from their cramped position in the boats, but no one murmured. Even Rasp and Oak.u.m ceased to wrangle, and the former pursed up his wrinkled mouth and followed the example of Oak.u.m in whistling for a favouring wind.

At times the breeze would come, and, the sails filling, the boats sped onwards, but the few miles they made before the wind again dropped seemed as nothing in the immensity of the watery s.p.a.ce around, and at last, half-delirious with the heat, after being reduced to a few drops of warm water each day, the sun went down like a great globe of fire, and Dutch Pugh felt that the time had come when they must die.

A re-arrangement of the occupants of the boat had long been made, so that both Dutch and Meldon were by those they loved, and now it seemed that the nuptial bed of the latter would be that of death. Hope seemed long before to have fled upon her bright wings, leaving only black despair to brood over them like the eternal night. Hardly a word was spoken in either boat, and once more the rope had been pa.s.sed from one to the other so that their desolate state might not become more desolate by parting company during the night.

The night in question had fallen as black as that when the schooner was blown away, but no one heeded it, neither did they listen to the ravings of poor Wilson, who lay back in the stern sheets talking of his birds, and calling some particular pet by name. Then he would whisper Bessy's name, and talk to himself constantly about his love for her, till at last the poor girl would be roused from her state of lethargy, and laying her head on Meldon's breast sob for a few minutes--dry hysterical sobs--and then subside once more. Oak.u.m sat twisting up a piece of yarn, crooning sc.r.a.ps of old songs, and 'Pollo would now and then, in a half-delirious fashion, try to sing the fragment of a hymn; but these attempts had grown now more and more spasmodic, and with the knowledge bluntly felt now that they had but a few fragments to support them on the following day, and no water, all sat or lay in a kind of stupefied despair, waiting for the end.

Upon Dutch Pugh had of late fallen the leading of the little party, for Captain Studwick had been taken ill from over-exertion with his oar beneath the burning sun, and before dusk Dutch had directed a longing gaze round the horizon in search of a sail, but in vain; and now he sat with Hesters head resting upon his lap, her large bright eyes gazing up into his, as longingly and full of love as ever, till, in the madness of his despair, as he saw her dying before him, he had strained her wasted form to his breast, and held her there when the darkness fell.

"Is there no hope, Dutch?" she whispered to him, faintly, as her lips rested close by his ear.

"Yes, always--to the last, darling," he whispered.

"I am not afraid to die," she whispered back; "it is for you. If I could only save your life."

He covered her lips with his kisses, and her arms pa.s.sionately embraced his neck, till a kind of heavy stupor fell on both, even as on all the others in the boat. The rest of the food was eaten next day, and then they sank back in their places to die.

But their fate was not that of Laure, whose boat was never seen again.

'Ere another day had pa.s.sed, a fast steamer sighted them where they lay, and bore down upon them as 'Pollo, the only one with strength enough left, hoisted a handkerchief upon one of the oars and held it aloft.

It was but just in time, and long and energetic was the attention required before the little party was out of danger, and by that time the port of Southampton was reached, and the next day--home.

STORY ONE, CHAPTER FORTY ONE.

CONCLUSION.

Quite a year elapsed before the subject was broached again from a business point of view. Mr Parkley had been a good deal disheartened by his losses, and shook his head when Dutch suggested a second trip.

"No, no," he said; "no more chance."

"Suppose there is no chance in the matter," said Dutch, quietly; and he then proceeded to tell of that which he had kept a secret in his own breast ever since--to wit, of the rich treasure of gold he had found, after the silver had been removed.

"Is this a fact, or some dream left by our troubles when coming home?"

said Mr Parkley, who looked at him in doubt.

"A fact," said Dutch; and he described exactly where the treasure lay.

"That's enough," exclaimed Mr Parkley. "I had made a vow that I would never be tempted again; but I will this once, Dutch--this once, my lad."

He kept his word, and though Hester shivered at the idea, she saw her husband's great desire for the trip, gave way, and prevailed upon him to consent to take her.

For a time he held out, so painful were the recollections of the last voyage; but on Captain Studwick taking the command of the vessel they were to sail in once more, and the doctor and his newly-made wife begging to accompany them, he agreed.

Rasp insisted upon going again, because Oak.u.m was likely to interfere, and Oak.u.m insisted on being one of the party because old Rasp would be there to meddle: where Sam Oak.u.m went, 'Pollo was sure to be his companion.

The result was that the vessel, well found and manned by a good crew, sailed one day, made a rough but prosperous voyage to the Gulf of Mexico, and there, in the placid weather they enjoyed, made first for one of the sunken galleons, where, after the removal of the sand, and the destruction of sundry sharks, so great a treasure in golden ingots was brought to the surface and carefully stowed away as made Mr Parkley propose that they should tempt fortune no further, but up anchor and go back home.

Dutch, however, was of too manly a grit to go away without exploring the other galleon, and, on this being reached, a second golden store was rescued from the wave where it had been three hundred years--a treasure large enough not only to recompense all past losses, but to make its winners wealthy for life.

So far from any imaginary curse attending this voyage, it was accomplished without difficulty, and home reached once more, with the mysteriously won treasure, of which there was much talk, but little information gained; for, saving what oozed out from the well-paid sailors, nothing was known, Mr Parkley saying that perhaps one of the Spanish States might put in a claim.

And so ended the eventful search for the gold and silver of the Spanish galleons--wealth won by conquest by the filibustering followers of Philip of Spain, but never enjoyed by them when dragged by torture from the simple-hearted Peruvians, who had hidden it in the tropic sands.

What might have been its purpose had the treasure reached the Spanish Court, who can tell? Suffice it that, as far as money could do so, it made happy several English homes, not the least happy that of the man who, with true penitence, sought in the rest of his career to recompense the woman who had been the object of his doubts.

"Yes," said he, "I was mad, and bent on seeking treasure when I had a greater one at home. Ah, Hester, love, I have gone down many times, and have found strange things, but I shall never reach to the bottom of your heart, or gather all its most secret depths of love, so long as I am what I am, _Dutch the Diver_."

STORY TWO, CHAPTER ONE.

STORY TWO--VIOLETS IN THE SNOW.

On one side there was a square, with trees that tried to look green in summer, but in winter time stuck in scraggy form out of the soot-peppered snow, with a beadle who wore a gold band round his hat and lived in a lodge, out of which he issued every morning with a thin rattan cane to keep away the boys; on the other side there was a row of goodly mansions, with a mews for the horses and carriages of the grandees who inhabited those mansions; and down between square and mansions, hidden behind the mews, as if it was a brick-and-mortar snake, there was Gutter-alley.

People said, how could such a dirty, squalid, unhealthy, beggar-inhabited place get there between the mansions of the rich.

People said so to the parish officers, and the parish officers shook their heads; not so much as to say that they did not know, but to imply thereby, a great deal, as if the wickedness of the inhabitants had something to do with it. Then people said so to the dwellers in Gutter-alley in an ill-used fashion, to which Gutter-alley very reasonably replied that it must get somewhere, which was perfectly true; that it squeezed itself up as much out of the way as it could, which was also quite true; that it--to wit, Gutter-alley--did not get between the square and the row of mansions, but that the square came and sat upon it on one side, and the row of mansions came and sat upon it on the other, which was true again; and lastly, Gutter-alley said, where was it to go, for it must have living room? Then people who knew its squalor said that it was all very shocking, and that a meeting ought to be held. And it was very shocking, but a meeting was not held; and Gutter-alley stood where it had stood before, in the year of our Lord 1862, when there was a very great exhibition building very close at hand; and Gutter-alley remained an exhibition itself, staying as it did where, without much effort, it could have thrown a stone into the grounds of a palace.

STORY TWO, CHAPTER TWO.

Now, whether in summer or winter, poor people can patronise as well as rich; and so it fell out that the custom in poverty-stricken, hunger-pinched Gutter-alley was for the poor folk there to speak condescendingly to old d.i.c.k Bradds, when he stood at the door of Number 5, with his poor old head on one side as he looked up the court; head on the other side as he looked down. "d.i.c.key" he was generally called, and more than one stout costermonger--they did a deal in costering in Gutter-alley, and if you penetrated into the rooms of the human rabbit-warren, fish could be found mingled with furniture, turnips amongst the wash-tubs, and a good full bucket of mussels often formed the seat of the father of a family while he helped his wife to make up ropes of onions for the morrow's sale--well, many a stout costermonger told his wife in confidence that old d.i.c.key Bradds always put him in mind of a moulting thrush. No inapt simile, and doubtless taken from the life, for there were always plenty of feathered captives to be seen in Gutter-alley.

It was quite true d.i.c.k--old d.i.c.key Bradds--did look very much like some aged and shabby bird, lame of one leg; and when he stood on a cold winter's morning peering up and down through the fog that loved to hang about the court, no one would have felt at all surprised to have seen the old man begin to peck, or to whet his long sharp old nose against the door-post.

Not that d.i.c.k did do anything of this kind--he only gave two or three keen one-sided bird-like looks about before slowly hopping up-stairs to his room on the second floor--the front room--to wait for Jenny.

A keen old blade though was d.i.c.k--a piece of that right good true steel so often to be found in the humblest implements, while your finely-polished, gaily-handled, ornamental upper-ten-thousand cutlery is so often inferior, dull of edge, and given to shut up just when they are wanted the most. d.i.c.k was not human hurried up, but a piece of fine old charcoal-made steel. Toil and hard usage had ground and ground d.i.c.k till there was little left of him but the haft, and seventy years of existence rubbing away through the world--that hard grindstone to some of us--had made that haft very rickety of rivet and springs. Certainly there was blade enough left to cut in one direction, but you could not trust d.i.c.k for fear of his giving way, or perhaps closing upon the hand that employed him.

It was so with poor old d.i.c.k when he left the great auction-rooms, where he had been kept as long as was possible; and, being proud, d.i.c.k would not believe in Nature when she told him that he had grown to be an old man, and that the time had gone by when he was l.u.s.ty and strong, and able to lift great weights; and when d.i.c.k's fellow-porters told him that a piece of furniture was too heavy for him to lift, he only felt annoyed, and grew angry and stubborn.

The fact was that d.i.c.k knew from old experience how hard a matter it was for even an industrious man to get a living in the great city; and for him, whose livelihood depended entirely upon his muscles, to turn weak and helpless meant misery, privation, and perhaps the workhouse for his old age.

That was what d.i.c.k thought, and therefore he fought hard against even the very semblance of weakness, making a point always at the auction-rooms of doing far more than he need, rushing at heavy pieces of furniture, tiring himself with extra work, and making himself an object of sport to the thoughtless, of pity to his older fellow-servants of the firm.