Burke, the skipper, had by this time recovered almost completely from his wound. His gigantic constitution had helped him where other men would have died without a struggle, and though his face was yet bound up (and, as it proved, was horribly scarred), he continued to possess some of bis old recklessness, and the best part of bis characteristic profanity. Yet it was tedious, this watching and waiting, suspense and hope, fear and desperation; nor had the four any topic of conversation but such questions as "Where's Kenner now? Has he put to sea yet, do you think? Is he taken?"
I have said that the men lay hid in this cavernous concealment; but it is not to be thought that they had no sort of knowledge of that which was passing in the bay without. Every morning after the first meal, and again before sundown. Messenger and Fisher left the cave, and, striking through an exceeding narrow path they had discovered some fifty yards higher up the ravine, they climbed, with little difficulty, to a natural window in the face of the cliff, and there had the bay spread below them, and could see to the distant mountains of Asturia, with the whole panorama of hill and forest and luxurious wooded plain intervening. For the greater part of the day the bay itself lacked even the ornament of a single ship; but oftentimes, toward the setting of the sun, fishing-luggers were seen on the horizon, and a few passed in to the anchorage of the shallows. Yet no man showed himself upon the beach, and the men lived in a wild and unspeakable solitude, which almost magnified their fears.
Upon the fourth evening, and again upon the fifth, after Kenner's going, the wind blew savagely from the north-west, sending long white-topped breakers into the bay; and, the air being deliciously fresh at the window of watching, Messenger and the lad sat there long, not a little surprised at the sights they saw upon the shore when dark had come—and the gale rose with a thunder of noise and a dismal riot of wind at the flow of the tide. On both these nights no sooner was the day done than a clear white light, burning, apparently, from some boat moored in the offing, shone with great power at intervals of a minute, and continued thus to stand as a signal for many hours. On the second night, however, when the strange lantern had burned for no more than ten minutes, gun-shot suddenly was fired from the shore, and the light was instantly extinguished. At a later hour, when the moon struggled through the halo of cloud and showed the face of the country, Fisher pointed out that the woman who had been at the head of the horsemen three nights gone was again riding, but this time unattended, upon the cliffs; and when Messenger observed her, he recalled with some force Kenner's fears and his surmises.
"Hal," said he, "when you came across the girl in the hills the other day, did you really think you had seen her before?"
"I am sure of it; and she told me so," replied Fisher. "She was the girl who used to be with the woman we called the Spanish witch."
"That's odd—remarkably odd," said the other next. "I remember that the fellow of our hotel declared the Spanish woman to be a wrecker with a castle somewhere upon the northern shore of Spain. It would be almost grotesque to think he spoke the truth."
Fisher shrugged his shoulders. Since the day of the last visit to the wreck he had betrayed little enthusiasm in any thing. The hinges of his friendship still worked, but stiffly; and though the personal force of Messenger yet exercised a certain power, it was not the power of old time. And this change did not in any way escape the man. He had looked for something of the sort, but had thought to tide it over by pleasantry and artifice. Now, however, when it became clear that the lad distrusted him wholly, he became irritable and reserved with him.
"Come," said he, "you're a lively companion, I must say. What's the matter with you?"
"I was thinking of the men in the cabin," replied Fisher.
"Well, and what of them? Surely you didn't look for me to leave half a dozen kegs of gold, entrusted to my solemn care by those that have confidence in me, to the first knaves who try and steal it?"
"Not at all," said Fisher, trying to be unconvinced.
"Then what are you pulling a long face about? They tried to cut our throats, and we cut theirs. Perhaps you think we should now be under the sea, and they spend our money ashore?"
"Your money?" asked Fisher with emphasis.
Messenger turned upon him a look which might have withered a stouter than the lad.
"It's a nice question to ask a friend," said he.
Fisher was abashed of his own suspicion.
"Indeed," said he, "I'd gladly think all that's good of you!"
Messenger turned away in pretended anger.
"Hal," said he, after a pause, "when we come ashore safely with this money, you shall have the whole tale. If you can't trust me until then, go your way, and I'll go mine. I've stood without friends before; I can stand again."
"Oh!" said Fisher, whose heart was wrung boyishly, "it will never be that, Prince. Heaven knows there's little I wouldn't do for you; and I can never tell how much you've done for me."
"All I ask is your friendship, as it was, and your trust," said Messenger, who aped the sorrow of suspicion to perfection; "your trust until I can repay you with my story."
"You're very good to me," said Fisher; "and the only one that's ever been so."
Thus was the breach in some measure temporarily hidden, and upon the seventh night, there having been a stiff gale all day, the whole party were expecting the return of Kenner with a keen hope; and talked of it huddled round the puny fire of logs in their camp. They had had little food for some hours, and at Burke's miserable cry for meat they had determined upon a sortie at midnight, whatever might be the risk. The plan, however, was never perfected, for at the hour of nine, as they judged, there was a booming of a gun heard even in the cabin, and the two ran quickly up to the window of the cliff, and there saw a scene which had for them a sharp significance.
Upon a spot not three hundred yards removed from the shallows whereon the schooner had burned, a long, black coasting-steamer lay plain to be seen, with the surf thundering upon her; and, the light of the moon being rich and full, it was even possible to perceive the crew huddled in her stem, yet grievously washed by the floods of water which swept her. That, however, which was by far the more engrossing spectacle to Messenger was the sudden activity which the striking of this ship produced upon the shore; for no sooner had she fired a second gun than a whole fleet of boats seemed to shoot mysteriously from the high cliffs at the neck of the bay, and to be rowed with uncommon vigour toward the wreck. Ten minutes later the crews of these were swarming up to the poop of the beaten vessel, and it was possible to see the fierce fight for foothold which they made, many a man going overboard to the rolling swell, and many a one falling before the slash of knives and cudgels. But anon the attackers got full possession of the deck, and began to bundle out plunder of all sorts into the boats below, which were handled with consummate skill. And this occupation continued until a gunshot from the shore recalled the men from their work, and they returned to a place upon the beach where many torches awaited them, and a throng of men had gathered.
To the two watching at the window this spectacle was an amazing revelation. Messenger himself, gripped