Chapter XI. The Beginning of the Terror
Chapter XII. The "Vespa" is Fired
Chapter XIII. I See the English Coast Again
Chapter XIV. We Fight Below the Sea
Chapter XVI. The Red Flame Bears Witness
Chapter XVIII. The Caves of Vares
Chapter XIX. We Bring the Treasure Ashore
Chapter XX. The Silence of the Cavern
Chapter XXII. The Horror of the "Vengeur"
Chapter XXIII. The Cavern of the Torrents
Chapter XXIV. The Green Island
Chapter XXV. I Am Alone on the Ship
Chapter XXVI. The Great Captain Puts Out to Sea
FOREWORD
It is nineteen years since Captain Black first sailed from Spezzia upon the Nameless Ship, and taught the world the meaning of the new piracy. A gigantic hull of phosphor bronze harboured the gas-engines by which the great vessel was driven; an inlet upon the shores of Greenland, known as Ice Haven, received the treasure and the ship when the Governments of the world awoke to the truth. Black and his men fell by a great mischance, and rumour said that he was dead. The ship that he built, then derided by the experts, is the ship of the new century, and the yards are already resounding with the bruit of a copy which shall be driven by oil-engines and banish steam from the high seas.
The Nameless Ship was sunk in the Atlantic; but the man who commanded her did not die. Just as, twenty years ago, he taught the experts what the naval battle of the future must be, so now it is possible that they may learn a further lesson from this new record of his daring. Possessed of a submarine, which would seem to embody the dreams of the scientist, the great Captain sails the seas to-day. Whatever mad impulse may lie at the back of his emprise, whatever gospel of plunder may excuse his assault upon the commerce of the world, the fact remains that no wit has yet been able to ensnare him, no ship to make him captive.
Deep down in the heart of the ocean, the pirate lies. The dogged persistence of the youth, Mark Strong, whose life the Captain spared, has permitted this further account of him to come into my hands. It is the story of the treasure which Black amassed when the Nameless Ship was the mistress of the ocean and the cities echoed the seamen's fables and learned at last that they were true. At the bidding of one man's voice, the nineteenth century came to understand the peril of the deep as the seventeenth century had known it. Shall we say, while Black lives, that our own age has less to fear from such a menace and may despise it?
CHAPTER I
THE HUNCHBACK OF DOLPHIN'S COVE
I do not know that I could begin to tell you of Captain Black's treasure upon any better day than the one which brought the lame seaman to Dolphin's Cove in Cornwall. This filled me with so many doubts about the voyage that I was upon the point of regretting we had planned it at all.
We were to weigh anchor with the tide about ten o'clock that night. The old yacht, the Celsis, glorious in her shining brass and new white paint, then lay in the river below the very windows of the little house wherein I had spent so many happy months since the Nameless Ship brought me fame and fortune. I waited but for my friend Roderick Stewart and his madcap sister Mary: and when the train carried them from town, England would know me no more for many months. So you will imagine what I thought of it when old Nick Venning, the village constable, came stumbling up the steps from the harbour mole to tell me of three strange men at "The Falmouth Arms," and of what they had been doing and what they had been saying—to the great scandal and surprise of the simple folk round about.
"You'll niver have heard of such a thing, Master Mark," says he—I don't suppose old Nicholas would know me by any other name, though he has carried up many a letter addressed to Mark Strong, Esq.—"you'll never have heard of such a thing. Three of them are together at 'The Falmouth Arms,' and Tom Benson at his wits' end to save the mugs in the bar-parlour. Strange folk all, and overmuch of the tarry sort to my way of thinking. Would you ever guess, now, what they said to me? Do you think you could guess that?"
I was cleaning my rifles at the moment, and I had a splendid new .450 bore in my hand while I stood at the door and talked with the old fellow.
"No, really," said I, "I don't think I could guess it, Nick."
"That you never would, Master Mark, nor any proper gentleman neither. I had addressed but a civil word to them, when the leader, a lame man with a single eye, cried, 'Ahoy, old Thunder, and what monkey-house let you loose?' To me, sir, who have been constable of this parish off and on for more than forty years."
I would not let old Nick see me laughing, and so I turned my face from him to ask a question:
"Where do they hail from, Nick? Some ship in Falmouth, I suppose?"
"And a precious queer sort of ship, Master Mark, and a crew we can very well dispense with. If I judge by their songs they are rascally Americans everyone."
I looked up at this, interested perhaps for the first time.
"Their songs, Nick—oh, they carol in their cups, then?"
"Indeed and they do so—some nonsense about Boston town and pistols three and other silly stuff a grown man has no patience to speak about. It's my opinion they'll burn the inn down before nightfall. I should be wanting in my duty if I did not express that opinion."
"Then," said I shortly, "the opinion is expressed, Nick, and I am the witness. And if opinions will do them any good, which seems unlikely, observing their condition, I will put it down upon paper and you may sign it. Now, seriously, my good fellow, what do you want me to do?"
"Why, Master Mark, to step down to 'The Falmouth Arms' yourself and to tell me if I should be wise to send to the town for help or to leave it where it is. You are a gentleman, and will know what to make of it better