The Sun of Quebec: A Story of a Great Crisis by Joseph A. Altsheler (top novels to read txt) 📗

to him that the terror of the thing was entering their souls. The night itself, as if admiring his plan, was lending him the greatest possible aid. The crimson lightning never ceased to quiver and the sullen rumble of the distant thunder was increasing. It was easy enough for men, a natural prey to superstition, and, with the memories of many crimes, to believe that the island was haunted, that the ghosts of those they had slain were riding the lightning, and that demons, taking the forms of animals, were waiting for them in the bushes.

But the swart leader was a man of courage and he still held his ruffians together. He cursed them fiercely, told them to stand firm, to reload their pistols and to be ready for any danger. Those who still slumbered by the fire were kicked until they awoke, and, with something of a commander's skill, the man drew up his besotted[Pg 173] band against the mystic dangers that threatened so closely.

But Robert produced a new menace. He was like one inspired that night. The dramatic always appealed to him and his success stimulated him to new histrionic efforts. He had planted in their minds the terror of animals, now he would sow the yet greater terror of human beings, knowing well that man's worst and most dreaded enemy was man.

He uttered a deep groan, a penetrating, terrible groan, the wail of a soul condemned to wander between the here and the hereafter, a cry from one who had been murdered, a cry that would doubtless appeal to every one of the ruffians as the cry of his own particular victim. The effect was startling. The men uttered a yell of fright, and started in a panic run for the boats, but the leader threatened them with his leveled pistol and stopped them, although the frightful groan came a second time.

"There's nothing in the bush!" Robert heard him say. "There can't be! The place has no people and we know there are no big wild animals on the islands in these seas! It's some freak of the wind playing tricks with us!"

He held his men, though they were still frightened, and to encourage them and to prove that no enemy, natural or supernatural, was near, he plunged suddenly into the bushes to see the origin of the terrifying sounds. His action was wholly unexpected, and chance brought him to the very point where Robert was. The lad leaped to his feet and the pirate sprang back aghast, thinking perhaps that he had come face to face with a ghost. Then with a snarl of malignant anger he leveled the pistol that he held in his hand. But Robert struck in[Pg 174]stantly with his clubbed rifle, and his instinctive impulse was so great that he smote with tremendous force. The man was caught full and fair on the head, and, reeling back from the edge of the bushes in which they stood, fell dead in the open, where all his men could see.

It was enough. The demons, the ghosts that haunted them for their crimes, were not very vocal, but they struck with fearful power. They had smitten down the man who tried to keep them on their island, and they were not going to stay one second longer. There was a combined yell of horror, the rush of frightened feet, and, reaching their boats, they rowed with all speed for the schooner, leaving behind them the body of their dead comrade.

Robert, awed a little by his own success in demonology, watched until they climbed on board the ship, drawing the boats after them. Then they hoisted the anchor, made sail, and presently he saw the schooner tacking in the wind, obviously intending to leave in all haste that terrible place.

She became a ghost ship, a companion to the Flying Dutchman, outlined in red by the crimson lightning that still played at swift intervals. Now she turned to the color of blood, and the sea on which she swam was a sea of blood. Robert watched her until at last, a dim, red haze, she passed out of sight. Then he turned and looked at the body of the man whom he had slain.

He shuddered. He had never intended to take the leader's life. Five minutes before it occurred he would have said such a thing was impossible. It was merely the powerful impulse of self-protection that had caused him to strike with such deadly effect, and he was sorry. The man, beyond all doubt, was a robber and murderer who had forfeited his life a dozen times, and still he was[Pg 175] sorry. It was a tragedy to him to take the life of any one, no matter how evil the fallen might be.

He went back to the house, brought a shovel, one of the numerous ship's stores, and buried the body at once high up the beach where the greatest waves could not reach it and wash it away. He did his task to the rumble of thunder and the flash of lightning, but, when he finished it, dawn came and then the storm that had threatened but that had never burst passed away. He felt, though, that it had not menaced him. To him it was a good storm, kindly and protecting, and giving sufficient help in his purpose that had succeeded so well.

It was a beautiful day, the air crisp with as much winter as the island ever knew, and shot with the beams from a brilliant sun, but Robert was exhausted. He had passed through a night of intense emotions, various, every one of them poignant, and he had made physical and mental efforts of his own that fairly consumed the nerves. He felt as if he could lie down and sleep for a year, that it would take at least that long to build up his body and mind as they were yesterday.

He dragged himself through the woods, forced his unwilling muscles to cook a breakfast which he ate. Then he laid himself down on his bed, his nerves now quiet, and fell asleep at once. When he awoke it was night and he lay giving thanks for his great escape until he slept again. When he awoke a second time day had returned, and, rising, he went about his usual tasks with a light heart.[Pg 176]

CHAPTER X THE SLOOP OF WAR

Robert ate a light breakfast and went out to look at his domain, now unsullied. What a fine, trim, clean island it was! And how desirable to be alone on it, when the Gulf and the Caribbean produced only such visitors as those who had come two nights before! He looked toward the little bay, fearing to see the topmast of the schooner showing its tip over the trees, but the sky there, an unbroken blue, was fouled by no such presence. He was rid of the pirates—and forever he hoped.

It seemed to him that he had passed through an epic time, one of the great periods of his life. He wondered now how he had been able to carry out such a plan, how he had managed to summon up courage and resources enough, and he felt that the good spirits of earth and air and water must have been on his side. They had fought for him and they had won for him the victory.

He shouldered his rifle and strolled through the woods toward the beach. He had never noticed before what a fine forest it was. The trees were not as magnificent as those of the northern wilderness, but they had a beauty very peculiarly their own, and they were his. There was not a single other claimant to them anywhere in the world.

It was a noble beach too, smooth, sloping, piled with[Pg 177] white sand, gleaming now in the sun, and the little frothy waves that ran up it and lapped at his feet, like puppies nibbling, were just the friendliest frothy little waves in the world. But there were the remains of the fire left by the ruffians to defile it, and broken bottles and broken food were scattered about. The litter hurt his eyes so much that he gathered up every fragment, one by one, and threw them into the sea. When the last vestige of the foul invasion was cleared away he felt that he had his lonely, clean island back again, and he was happy.

He strolled up and down the glistening beach, feeling a great content. After a while, he threw off his clothes and swam in the invigorating sea, keeping well inside the white line of the breakers, in those waters into which the sharks did not come. When he had sunned himself again on the sand he went to the creek, took his dinghy from the bushes, where it had been so well hidden, and rowed out to sea, partly to feel the spring of the muscles in his arms, and partly to sit off at a distance and look at his island. Surely if one had to be cast away that was the very island on which he would choose to be cast! Not too big! Not too hot! And not too cold! Without savage man or savage beasts, but with plenty of wild cattle for the taking, and good fish in the lakes, and in the seas about it. Plenty of stores of all kinds from the slaver's schooner, even books to read. So far from being unfortunate he was one of the lucky. A period of retirement from the companionship of his own kind might be trying on the spirit, but it also meant meditation and mental growth.

His joy over the departure of the pirates was so great and his temperament was such that he felt a mighty revulsion of the spirits. He had a period of extravagant elation. He took off his cap and saluted his island. He[Pg 178] made little speeches of glowing compliment to it, he called it the pearl of its kind, the choicest gem of the Gulf or the Caribbean, and, if pirates came again while he was there, he would drive them away once more with the aid of the good spirits.

He rowed back, hid his boat in the old covert among the bushes at the edge of the creek, and, rifle on shoulder, started through the forest toward his peak of observation. On the way, he passed the lake and saw the herd of wild cattle grazing there, the old bull at its head. The big fellow, assured now by use and long immunity, cocked his head on one side and regarded him with a friendly eye. But the bull had a terrible surprise. He heard the sharp ping of a rifle and a fearful yell. Then he saw a figure capering in wild gyrations, and thinking that this human being whom he had learned to trust must have gone mad, he forgot to be angry, but was very much frightened. Enemies he could fight, but mad creatures he dreaded, and, bellowing hoarsely to his convoy, as a signal, he took flight, all of them following him, their tails streaming straight out behind them, so fast they ran.

Robert leaped and danced as long as one of them was in sight. When the last streaming tail had disappeared in the bushes he sobered down. He realized that he had given his friend, the bull, a great shock. In a way, he had been guilty of a breach of faith, and he resolved to apologize to him in some fashion the next time they met. Yet he had been so exultant that it was impossible not to show it, and he was only a lad in years.

When he reached the crest of his peak he scanned the sea on all sides. Eagerly as he had looked before for a sail he now looked to see that there was none. Around and around the circle of the horizon his eyes traveled, and when he assured himself that no blur broke the[Pg 179] bright line of sea and sky his heart swelled with relief.

In a day or so, his mind became calm and his thoughts grew sober. Then he settled down to his studies. The battle of life occupied only a small portion of his time, and he resolved to put the hours to the best use. He pored much over Shakespeare, the other Elizabethans and the King James Bible, a copy of which was among the books. It was his intention to become a lawyer, an orator, and if possible a statesman. He knew that he had the gift of speech. His mind was full of thoughts and words always crowded to his lips. It was easy enough for him to speak, but he must speak right. The thoughts he wished to utter must be clothed in the right kind of words arranged in the right way, and he resolved that it should be so.

The way in