"Ye devil's spawn, must I waste words on such as you? Out, I say—out! Back to your holes, vermin that you are! Get ye gone before I deal with you! Get you gone, dirt and carrion, or by the Lord above me no man shall see the sun again!"
They quailed before him, shrinking from that tremendous figure of a man, and discerning his resolution in every gesture. When the Dane would have lifted a hand to strike him, I saw but the mock of a blow, and then beheld the fellow prone and bleeding on the floor, with a face so waxen that he might have been already dead. As a bolt from the blue that terrible arm had stricken him; and they dragged him back, fearful now to say a word, and yet believing surely that death was upon them. When they were gone, a black silence fell in the tower, and was unbroken save by the swirl of the foam upon the glasses. In the end that ceased, and I knew that we had sunk to the very depths of the basin, and lay in the cool, clear water of its hollow.
To such, then, had the Master brought us. And what of the dread minutes which followed after? What of Black's genius and resource?—ah, to tell you of that! For my part I had given up all hope of life, while a desire of life ran warm as blood in my veins. To think of the open sea and God's heaven of stars, to remember the home I had left, my dear friends and the youth of my days; to do this and to peer out into those merciless waters which never again should yield up their prisoners—aye, that was a torture of the soul beyond any a man may suffer even in his dreams. And to it surely we were doomed. The rock held us in its giant embrace; the cascade surged above us; the gate was barred by chains of the foam which no ship might hope to pass. Such, I say, was my belief, when I heard the bells ring once more, and knew that we were rising. Upward and upward, the great fish still cupped upon our flank, we rose amid the thunder of the waters, until, with one mighty shout of "Full speed ahead!" one leap at the bells to ring the signal down, Black put all to the venture and raced for the orifice. And then I think that my eyes could suffer no more, and, pressing my burning hands against them, I waited for the end.
Would the Zero strike the rock, and be shivered as a bolt shot awry, or would she find the gate and breach it? In the agony of that doubt I heard men cry aloud. Would she find a haven, or breast the bulwark and open her plates to a wound of the water? We should know in five seconds, or in ten; and who shall wonder if we counted them, saying, "Now, now, it is coming now." As sailors who cling to a life-line when a monstrous wave threatens their ship, so we stood in the cabin. It was here, it was gone by—oh, the spell of it! And now the torrent had us, and we were carried as a feather upon a freshet, headlong in darkness, out and downward, in blackness, amid the roar of hell's voices, out to the sea and the night, out to the heaven these men derided.
The torrent had carried us beneath the mountain and brought us to the open sea. We rushed headlong to the platform, and, some calling for axes, we fell upon the monster fish and hewed its limbs asunder. A delirium of joy seized upon the pirates. Nor were they less terrible to me in that hour of the mercy than in the blackest instant of the doom which had hovered above them.
CHAPTER XXIV
THE GREEN ISLAND
We had been three days at sea, and had picked up our relief when we sighted the Green Island—Isle Verte the French call it—and there I understood that the crew were to enjoy a brief rest while the Captain paid another visit to Paris.
God knows, the men had supped upon horrors, and even such miscreants must have suffered a nausea of the soul which bade them crave for ease. None understood this better than Black. Here, on a sea-blown island off the wild coast of Brittany, he had a home made ready and a refuge to hand. Perchance should the story of his life be wholly written, it will tell of many such sanctuaries in the creeks and bays and rivers of the world—many a hiding-place in many a forgotten cave; for such was the wisdom of the man and such his foresight.
We made the Green Island, I remember, just as the day dawned; a wonderful day of the young summer breaking in radiant glory upon the wide sea and that garden of the waters whereon we were to rest. Sailing boldly into a narrow creek between gentle cliffs, the Captain passed the word to make the ship trim, and then for all to go ashore. For the first time since I had been aboard her I saw a new miracle of Guichard's genius, by which the Zero could be sunk from without, and so sent to an anchorage beneath the waves without a living soul aboard her. Electric cables running from the shore to her batteries permitted her pumps to be set going and her tanks to be filled. She sank gently upon a bed of golden sand; and had twenty warships visited the island, I doubt if they would have discovered her.
I would tell you that the men had taken some of their belongings ashore, and when we had all climbed the mild slope of the cliff we came out upon a tableland of verdant grass, whereon there stood a neat white bungalow such as you may see at any south-coast watering-place. Flowers grew all about it, and it was fended from the east wind by a ring of shabby trees, turning weak limbs from the western gales which wracked them. Beyond the wood, as we learned to call it, there lay a deep pool of clear water upon the edge of the downs, which were wild and free and destitute of houses. But one farm, I learned, existed upon the Isle Verte, and that was owned by a man who would have laid down his life for Black. His name was Benoit, and his little daughter Isola was the most beautiful creature I have ever seen in all my days. But this is to get beyond the story, which brings me to the bungalow upon the height, and what we found therein.
Paris had furnished it, and the farmers of Brittany sent of their best to its table. A young Frenchman called "Mike" by the crew—I suppose his name was Michel—received us at the door and showed us to our rooms, light and cheerful all of them, and as luxurious as any man could desire. When we had bathed (even the filthy pirates were sent to the bath whenever they came ashore) we sat down to an excellent breakfast of hot coffee and fish and eggs, and were waited on both by the farmer Benoit and by the little girl of whom I have made mention. Then beer and wine were served to the crew, and they fell to singing and dancing on the grass, just like a lot of village lads at a fairing.
It was here that I found myself apart with the Captain, and had some talk with him. Taking a rugged stick in his hand and with a wideawake, such as planters wear, upon his head, he proposed that we should make a tour of the island, and I fell in with his proposition very readily.
Kind and gentle in his manner, reminding me at every word of the days when we had been adrift on the Atlantic together, I found in him the great Captain of my ideals, and wondered if all we had lived through in the dreadful days was the truth or a dream. Was it but three days ago that his guns, firing shells of flaming spirit, had burned the cruiser to the water's edge—was it but seventy hours since I had seen his enemies at Vares perishing horribly amidst the roaring furnace of the waters—but seventy hours since his searchlight played upon their agony and the pirates thrust the fleshless limbs beneath the blood-red waves from which they were uplifted? I could not believe it as we strode the cliffs of the Green Island and our feet crushed the marigolds to powder. And yet, God knows, it was true.
"Ye would be anxious about your friends," he put it to me, as he lighted a cigar and offered me another. I told him immediately that my first thought had been of them since the day we quitted Ice Haven. He nodded his head as though he were with me in that.
"They'll be at Leith this day," he said; and then, with a dry laugh, "telling a fine tale to the canny Scotsmen, I'll not doubt. The week out and you may hear of them in London when I take you there."
I looked at him as though a madman were speaking.
"In London, Captain?"
"Nowhere