Part 23 (1/2)

”'Tis a goodly s.h.i.+p in the matter of size,” he presently said; ”yet I can see but little of her hull, for she is bow-on, sailing eastward as it seemeth.”

”Haply 'tis one of their quick-sailing advance guards,” suggested Webbe.

But Hartop silently continued to look out upon the sea with his brows bent and an expression of grim expectancy in his cold gray eyes.

”Canst make out if there be more than one s.h.i.+p?” he asked after a long pause. ”Mark it well, my boy; for it were best that we make the matter full certain ere we fly back with the alarm.”

Gilbert's eyes slowly swept the line of the horizon.

”No,” he said; ”there is but the one.”

”Then we may not yet return,” said Hartop; and turning to Timothy Trollope he added: ”Take you the tiller, Tim, and keep our head to the westward until the dusk hath fallen. By that time we should know more.”

The wind served well for this new course, and the boat sped on. But when the sun had sunk the strange s.h.i.+p could no more be seen, for the bright yellow afterglow was speedily obscured by a gray sea-mist.

Earlier on that same day they had observed that the sea was plentifully strewn with tufts of sea-weed, and below their boat, when they had looked over the gunwale and peered down into the depths of the water, they had seen dense forests of marine growth thickly entangled, and many thousands of jelly-fish and other denizens of the deep.

Jacob Hartop had shown more interest and concern in this fact than any of his companions.

”'Tis for all the world like what I have seen many times in the Sarga.s.so Sea,” said he. ”And yet it cannot surely be that we have come so far to the westward as that.”

But as the evening wore on and the water became yet more densely full of living things, he shook his head gravely and murmured a wish that they had turned back towards the Azores. ”For,” said he, ”if it be that we are on the fringe of the Sarga.s.so Sea there is no knowing what may befall us.”

”And prithee, Jacob, what manner of dangers do you fear?” questioned Edward Webbe. ”Sure there can be no peril in sailing over a forest of harmless sea-weeds.”

”'Twas in the Sarga.s.so Sea that I lost my s.h.i.+p,” said Jacob. ”I know the place full well, and never do I wish to be back in it again. Hast never heard of it, Ned?”

Webbe shook his head and smiled as he answered:

”Mayhap I have heard the name. But it seemeth to me that we are now in the Atlantic Ocean; and if thou dost declare that we are nigh unto any other sea, why, I can only believe that thou art dreaming.”

”Well do I know that we are in the Atlantic,” returned Hartop, ”though a good piece farther to the westward than we had intended. But you must know that this Sarga.s.so Sea of which I speak, is itself a part of the Atlantic--and a part which all wise mariners do avoid. 'Tis in places naught but a solid ma.s.s of sea-weed, so dense as to support the weight of a man, yea, even of a s.h.i.+p. Once within its confines, 'tis rare that a vessel doth ever escape; and most men who have been through it will tell you strange and marvellous tales of hideous monsters with hundreds of arms, that dart out and entwine in their grip of death all who come within their venomous reach.”

”Then I pray you let us adventure no farther,” said Webbe, ”for I, at least, have no great wish to be embraced by such arms. Let us turn back, Jacob.”

”I would that we were once more aboard of the _Revenge_,” muttered young Robin Redfern, who lay stretched upon the half-deck at Gilbert Oglander'a feet. ”Who knows but that the Spaniards have already pa.s.sed us, and been overmastered and taken home to England.”

”There can be little harm in keeping on our present course until sunrise,” said Jacob Hartop, not heeding the boy's remark. ”Then, if we see no sign of the plate fleet, we can turn about and make a run for Flores.”

”Ay,” added Webbe, ”it were even wise to turn at the first peep of dawn; for, mind you, it would go ill with us if we should find ourselves in the very midst of the galleons without a chance of escape.”

And so they held on westward; and when darkness fell over the sea, Hartop and Gilbert curled themselves up under their rugs in the boat's well and went to sleep, leaving Timothy in charge of the tiller and Webbe and Robin on the watch forward.

It may be that the recent mention of the loss of his s.h.i.+p lingered in Jacob's mind as he fell asleep, for, as he dreamt, he saw himself once again upon her deck. A great galleon she was. He had won her in battle from the Spaniards, and as she was a better vessel than his own poor craft, he had converted her to his own use, and taking his own crew aboard of her had hoisted the red cross of St George and cruised with her as a buccaneer on the Spanish Main, conquering many another s.h.i.+p of Spain and transferring their treasures to his own hold, until the galleon was weighed down almost to her lower port-holes with the weight of gold that she carried. And then on a certain night when he was homeward bound he lay in his cabin asleep, and there had come to him one of the s.h.i.+p's boys to tell him that the galleon had sprung a leak and was sinking. He heard the boy calling him now as he lay in his dreams in the _Revenge's_ boat, sailing on those same seas.

”Master Hartop!” the boy cried, laying his hand on the old buccaneer's breast. ”Master Hartop! Quick! quick!”

Jacob turned over and sat up, and found himself not in his s.h.i.+p's cabin but in an open boat. And the boy who had called him was young Robin Redfern, who now stood over him with a face as white as the sea-foam, and with his hand that held the boat's lantern trembling as if with palsy.