University of Virginia Library

31. CHAPTER XXXI.
CONSPIRACY.

“And now, boys,” said Fowler, “get to quarters, one by one,
without waking up any of the water-rats. We 'll settle our small
affairs together in the mornin'. There 's a good handful of the
king's pictures for all of you. We understand one another to-night.
Me and the lieutenant [“I and the king”] have something
more to say together, which do n't need any help, and has
to be settled in private. But it 's for the good of the cause; and
you knows very well that means the good of all. Git into your
hammocks, quiet as you can, without shaking the ship's knees.
Who 's on the watch?”

“Stoddart.”

“He 's safe! Well, off with you, now; and we 'll have another
and a closer talk, to-morrow night, jest here, in the same place.”

So Sam Fowler, who, with the habitual dictation of an old sea-dog
(and, we may add, an old conspirator and turbulent), found
authority easy, when such was the game; and assumed the parole,
without any concession, made previously, to the self-esteem
of Lieutenant Molyneaux. The latter would have kicked at this
assumption with all the fury of a Celt, but that he, too, felt the
natural force of an authority which was based upon a superior
experience. Besides, he too, we may add, was a little taken by
surprise by the decided movements of his coadjutor.

When the rest were gone, and fully out of hearing, and Fowler
had satisfied himself, by following them a certain distance, that

they were all moving quietly in the direction of the ship, he returned
and resumed the conference.

“And now, lieutenant, you 're to be captain: that 's settled in
my mind. What am I to be?”

“First, of course. What else?”

“All right! It 's what I looked for. In course, you see what 's
to be done. We 've to run off with the ship the moment we 've
got all things ready for moving. There 's no stayin' here much
longer. We 'll have the king's frigates down upon us — two,
three — for jest so many have they got in New York, and all on
the shy. Sproulls tells me that there 's been a despatch sent
for'ard to bring on the frigates fast as wind and water will let
'em.”

“That despatch will never reach! Set your mind easy there.
We 've got the fellow fast now in the ship 's hold, and a terrible
praying and psalm-singing does he keep up day and night. The
captain 's got the despatch. He fixed the whole business, and
had the fellow brought here and put under fast locker.”

Where the h—l can he be, then! I tried my best to get upon
his tracks in town, but 't was no go. Could n't hear nor see nothin'
of him; and no one could tell. Sproulls pumped mighty hard
to get it out of me; for I could see he did n't half believe what I
said about the ship over the bar. He 's 'cute and close, and I 'm
thinkin' a leetle mixed up with Sylvester. They goes to meetin'
together; I knows that. But ef the governor and council are
makin' despatches ag'in us, they 're not a-guine to stop at that
one. We may overhaul one jigger, but what 's to prevent 'em
sendin' a dozen? The captain may be sly as a fox, but there 's a
shifting of the wind in town; that 's a sign of bad weather ahead.
In old times, governor and council had a blind eye for a free-trader.
Is it so certain that they have n't got the captain himself
somewhere under hatches? There 's a squall comin' on! The
governor 's got wind of us, and the council too, I reckon; and how
could they help it, if they wanted to see? The town 's full of our
goods. Fresh fruits are plenty, though there 's been not a single
craft — so Sproulls tells me — from any West Injy port for nineteen
days before we came. In course, these people ain't fools;
and there 's rogues enough among 'em to keep 'em from blindness,
even if Natur had made the most of 'em the very best of fools!

And so they reasons together; and though they do n't guess where
we are, they know we 're somewhere about; over the island they
reckon, behind the swamp; but able to run in with the tide, every
night, and land a cargo. We can 't keep snug much longer; we 'll
have to run for it; and that, too, before they bring on their frigates.
'T would be the stupidest thing in natur' to let 'em catch
us here at anchor, and in a creek in which we could n't swing
round, and in a river where a long-sided craft like ours could n't
go about, under a broadside.”

“There 's hardly any danger yet, Sam, and we want all the
time we can get. We 've got only nineteen of the fellows
over.”

“But them 's the true men! As for the others, they 'll jest do
what they sees the boldest men do, once they 're under workin'
orders. You get me together six fellows that are ready, tooth
and nail, and the rest, though they be sixty, will be quick enough
to fall into the ranks.”

“Not with such a fellow to halloo them on against us as Harry
Calvert.”

“There I 'gree with you. But where 's he to halloo them on?
Look you, captain — so I makes free to call you at once — I 'm
a-thinkin' that Captain Calvert will never pipe our fellows to
quarters ag'in. He 's safe from us, ef he ain't safe from the governor;
and, thank the devils, we 're safe from him!”

“You think so! He was here three nights ago.”

“And three days have gone since then. Where 's he now?
We hear no more of him! I knows that Franks hain't seed him
in all that time. No! I 'm tellin' you jest what 's the reasonable
thinkin'. They 've got Calvert fast. He 's the main one they
strike at, for you see there 's a good five hundred pounds offered
for him one, dead or alive. They 'll be satisfied to have him in
the darbies, and they 'll be pleased to have our trade jest the
same.”

“I would n't trust 'em.”

“Nor would I! But s'posin' him locked up in cold quarters,
or s'posin' him not locked up, and jest schoolin' about on his own
business, what 's it to us any way? It only gives us the more
chance to get off. We must run, ef we can. Better now, when
we need n't fight for it — when it 's with wind and tide — than to

have a bloody fight of it on the high seas: and we 're so far in,
that, if we do n't move now, pretty soon, it must come to that.
The first question is, whether we shall use our heels to please
Captain Calvert, or to please me and Captain Molyneaux. I 'm
clear that we should go for our own dear selves, in preference to a
man that jest rules us as he thinks proper, and do n't ax us who 's
pleased besides. He 's been a famous captain in his time, but
somehow he 's only a Dutch lugger now. He 's not the man any
longer. I 'm clear for one thing — cuttin' loose from moorings
here, jest as soon as we can, and not waitin' to see where the
wind 's goin' to come out. If we wait for Calvert, there 's so
much more to do, and so much more risk in the doin' of it.
There 's one thing which I would n't like to have to do.”

“What 's that, Fowler?”

“Cut the captain's throat!”

“D—n him! why should you shirk at that?”

“It 's not because I love him. No! the devil, no! It 's because,
whenever the thing has to be done, there 'll be more throats
to be slit than the one. He 's a d—d great fellow in a fight,
and he 's got the strength of Jolly Cæsar, the great Roman; and
he 's got the trick of the broadsword and the tomhog [tomahawk],
the knife and the blunderbuss, better than any sea-captain that
ever stepped a quarter-deck in our day; and he 's got some d—d
true felows that 'll back him, ef he can call for 'em, 'gainst any
force we can bring. Ef we can get off with the ship without his
knowing, we must n't stop to find out where he is. It 's enough
for us ef he ain't in our way; and that 's jest what we 've got to
do! But, ef we wait for him, we must feed the fishes with
him.”

“Look you, Sam! Captain Calvert owes me a life. I 've
sworn to have it. He has wounded my honor; he has treated
me with scorn and insult. I will have my revenge.”

“You! Fight with him?”

“Man to man, breast to breast; a fair fight, and no other man
to come between.”

“Psho! Captain Molyneaux — so I begs leave to call you —
that 's all in my eye and Betty Martin. Do n't be sich a Judy.
A man what 's got sich a great business on his hands has nothin'
to do with honor and revenge. That 'll do for boys. It 's all

gammon. If you say, now, you 're for slitting his windpipe, at
the first good chance, takin' care that you keep your own safe all
the time, I do n't say nothin' ag'in it. It 's all right, and a sensible
way to sarve out an enemy to the fishes; but to talk of a fair
fight, riskin' everything after we 've got the stakes in our own
hands, I 'll never agree to that.”

“It must be so, Sam,” answered the other, doggedly. “I 'm
sworn to it. My honor demands it. He shall give me satisfaction.”

“Why, so he shall; and what better satisfaction than takin' his
ship, and leaving him, on a sort of maroon here, where they 'll
give five hundred pounds for his head, and where there 's so many
who are on the watch for him, day and night, to get the prize-money?
Ef that ain 't takin' satisfaction out of him, then I 've no
ixperience in sich a consarn.”

“Not enough for me. I must crush him — have him under
foot — see him at my mercy. My sword must drink his blood!”

“And you mean to give him a fair chance, in a reg'lar hand-to-hand
fight?”

“He shall have nothing less!”

“Then, ef that 's your resolution, hear to mine. We part company.
I thought I was dealin' with a man of sense. I do n't
risk my neck under the 'Jolly Roger,' with any captain that talks
about his honor, and fair play, and all that sort of stuff and nonsense.
I 'm sorry, lieutenant, for I think ef 't wan't for this redick'lous
notion, you 'd be the very man for us.”

“What! you abandon me, because I 'm bold enough to take our
old captain by the throat?”

“No, by your leave — no sich thing! But because you 're for
lettin' him take you by the throat at the same time. And do n't
I know what 'll happen ef he once does get you in his gripe?
Why, he 'll slit your oozen as easy as he 'd slice an orange. Look
you, Lieutenant Molyneaux — I 'd like to call you captain, all the
time — it 's a mighty redick'lous bull that won't see the shortness
of his own horns. Once hitched with Harry Calvert, you 'd soon
enough l'arn the difference 'twixt your'n and his'n. As for a fight
with him, man to man, it 's not in you.”

Molyneaux was about to protest his skill and valor with all the
indignant vanity of a Milesian.

“Do n't be a fool, lieutenant! You 're as brave a lad as I
know, and you can use a broadsword as well as most men; but
Harry Calvert! — do n't be foolish! That 's not the way! Hear
to me. We 'll cut and run, soon as the wind sarves, and we can
get off these ceroons of indigo. We 'll be off while Calvert 's
ashore, no matter where. We 'll leave him — maroon him, and
in good quarters, I reckon. And ef we can 't do that, there 's but
one way — and that 's to send him down-stream, swimming like a
pig in a gale of wind, with a gapin' throat. Ef we manage that
sensibly, we can do it easily; and the rest we can settle at New
Providence.”

“I would rather fight him, man to man. It 's a point of honor,
Sam. Besides—”

“P'int of h—l! What have we got to do with sich redick'lous
matters? Look you, lieutenant — if you talk so, I give you up;
for all this is jest downright nonsense. It 's business we 're on,
now; not honor! It 's part of the business that we leave Captain
Calvert to take care of himself, on a coast where he knows all the
bearings as well as we do; or, if he comes in our way, and only
when he comes in our way, when the word is `Cut and run,' then
we cut him out of it. If you say `No,' then there 's an end to the
trade. We 'll stand off, jest where we was before, and no harm
done!”

“You 're hard on me, Sam Fowler. I 've let you have your
own way in the management of the affair so far.”

“Exactly! and who do you think could manage it a better
way?”

“I do n't deny that. You were as good as born to the business;
but here, the very first thing I want to do for myself, you
oppose it. It 's true, I propose to fight: but the fight is mine —
the risk all mine. I do n't ask any man to peril his life for me!”

“And that 's the redick'lous part of the notion. Ef you 'd say,
`I must have the captain's heart's-blood,' and call upon the help
of half a dozen to make the thing sart'in sure, and without any
danger to your own throat, there would be some sense in it. But
the other way is no better than a sort of madness. I won't hear
to it.”

“But, Sam, there 's another reason for putting Calvert out of
the way.”

“Well, out with it!”

“Zulieme Calvert must be mine. I love her!”

“Does she love you?”

“I 've every reason to think so.”

“And I 've no reason to think so at all. The woman 's half a
fool, I 'm thinkin', and has no love for anything but plays and toys,
singin' and jiggin'. But that 's nothin' to the purpose. Ef you
want the woman, it do n't need any love between the parties.
Take her, ef you can — as you can, and where you can.”

“But she 'll never consent, so long as Calvert is a living
man.”

“Then butcher him when you find him; nobody says `no' to
that; it 's only against the nonsense of a fight with him, yard-arm
to yard-arm; for in sich a fight he 'll sink you to Davy Jones's
locker, jest so sure as you come to the grapple! But who says
that she won't take up with you, when you can get her clear of
him? It 's strange, lieutenant, that a man that 's got sich a good
conceit of himself in some things, should be so bashful in others.
Now, you 're a fine fellow to look at — few quite so handsome;
and you 're young and strong, and can talk that sort of gammon
that women likes: and what 's to hinder her preference, if you
come turtle over her, when 't other 's out of the way? She 'll do
it!”

“Do you really think so?”

“Why not? There 's reason enough for it. I do n't mean to
say that she 'll have any love in the business — any more than
you —”

“But I do love her, Sam.”

“As a fish-hawk loves a mullet! Well, as you please. I do n't
say one word against your cuttin' the captain's throat, ef it comes
easy and in your way, and carryin' off his woman.”

“You will lend a hand at both, Sam?”

“My hand on it! But remember, we 're not to go out of our
way, or take any risks for it.”

“I understand.”

“You promise, then, there 's to be no more nonsense about a
fair fight, and all that?”

“I promise you. You shall approve all that I do in the matter.”

“Well, that 's spoken like a man of sense. And now to more
plain business. It 's mighty strange I could n't get on the track
of Captain Calvert anywhere in town. He 's either under the
governor's hatches, or he 's off somewhere. He 's got some secret
business on some of the plantations. What if he should
think to turn the ship into a slaver? He 's scrup'lous, I know,
about privateerin' any more ag'inst the dons, now that the king
calls it piracy. What 's left for him, but the slave-trade?”

“Oh, he 'd never think to dirt his fingers with that business!”

“What else can he do? 'T would be a poor business for him;
and what with crammin' the hold with cargo, and starvin' the
negroes, these eastern people would beat him clean out of sight.
He 'd be for givin' them niggers room enough, and air enough,
and food enough, and good food too, and that would ruin him.
His niggers would cost him quite too much before they could
reach the market. Besides, it 's quite too slow a business for
us.”

“Yes, indeed! I 'll none of it.”

“Nor I. We 'll make shorter cruises in chase of fortune.
And I can hardly think, ef Calvert knows anything about the
business, that 't would suit him. Still, it 's curious where he hides
himself. I got a squint of Franks, though—”

“You did n't suffer him to see you?”

“Catch me at that! Belcher I could n't hear of any more than
Calvert. They 're either stowed away in the governor's locker,
or they 're at some secret business which we 're not to know
about.”

“May not Calvert be with his wife?”

“Well, he warn't over fond of her company when he had the
freedom of it; and it 's not likely he 'll run his neck into a halter
for it now, when he 's got so much reason to keep from any sort
of a noose. I should only care to know where she is to steer clear
of him. I 'm more anxious to find Jack Belcher than his master.”

“Why him?'

“He knows the hiding-place of all his money; and that 's
enough to pay for a voyage round the world. We must have the
fingerin' of that, lieutenant; and, look you now, that 's betwixt
ourselves. There 's no sharin' that among the crew. It 's not

prize-money; it 's our own right, 'twixt us, before the cruise. Besides,
't would be mighty foolish to put 'em in flush, at the very
start: they 'd be desarting, half of 'em. And then, they 've got
quite enough in the ixpectations, you know; the ixpectations of a
Jolly Roger are his best argyments. In course, it 's understood
atween us that we goes shares, half-and-half, in the captain's
treasure.”

“That was our agreement.”

“Hands on it, lieutenant!”

And they clasped hands.

“There can be no mistake now,” continued the old pirate.
“We shall both have enough and to spare. All that we want
now is to get Jack Belcher under the screw.”

“And where can he keep when not here? He was here three
days ago.”

“He's in town, I reckon, though I could n't find him. The
captain keeps him busy, perhaps, watchin' over his harum-scarum
wife.”

“What! he watch her? He never watched her here.”

“Did n't he, then? He watched her as close as cat watches
mouse. But Calvert did n't fear for her. It was you he was
afraid of. He 's too proud to think that she would play him false;
but he 's too wise not to know what hot blood, in the veins of a
young Irishman, might not attempt. Did n't he surprise you together
in the cabin? Do you suppose he did n't keep eyes on
you elsewhere? 'T was easy for her to get out of the scrape, but
not so easy for you.”

“But I did get out of it.”

“You did? You 're not out of it yet! Do you think he forgets
or forgives so easily? No, lieutenant; if I know man, and
this man in particular, you 've got to pay for your impudence yet.
He 's only waitin' his time, till he can take you unawares; and
you do n't know how soon he 'll be upon you! Nothin' can save
you from his vengeance, but this plan of ours! Do you take the
ship, and let him find his satisfaction, after that, any way he can.”

“What! do you think I 'm afraid of anything he can do?
Hark you, Sam; I promised not to seek, or challenge him to single
combat, but I did n't promise that I would shirk the fight if
he should challenge me. No, by Heaven! I would never submit

to that dishonor. I should face him, though I knew that he would
slay me at the first passage.”

“And hark you, Lieutenant Molyneaux, I say to you that ef I
should be at hand, and I saw any sich affair goin' on, I should
calculate to put in between you with half a dozen good fellows
besides, and save you from any consequences that might do up
our present business.”

“No, Sam! do not, I entreat you. Should the captain challenge
me, the point of honor—”

“Oh, d—n and blast that p'int of honor! I thought we had
settled that matter already; and ef we have n't, the sooner we do
come to the right sense of our agreement the better. You 're to
kill him, ef you can; but not to fight him at all! That 's the
reason! We want you; we 've need of you; we can 't do without
you; we like you; and blast my eyes, lieutenant, we 'll save
you as long as we can!”

“Why, you talk, Sam, as if 't were a certain thing that I must
fall, fighting Calvert.”

“To be sure you will! Oh, I know, lieutenant, you 've got
face and heart to fight the devil; and that 's the reason why I
made up to you, as the man to put us all right, in a bold navigation.
But, ef you mean that you can stand a fair, up-and-down
fight, with smallsword or broadsword, ag'in Harry Calvert, then
you 've more of Irish conceit in you than I 'm willin' you should
nurse to spoilin'. You can 't do it; and the best thing for you
and us is, to slip cable, and get the wind of him while we have a
chance. I 'm not willin' to lose more time than we can help, or
any valuable life. A few days more, I reckon, will give us a
chance at Jack Belcher. Ef he comes here, we must muzzle him
somewhere in the woods, and have his secret out of him, though
we pull out his tongue with it! And ef his master comes, then
we must sarve him in the same fashion. We 've got nineteen
strong fellows sart'in, and can get more; and what we can 't get,
we can shut hatches down upon, and starve 'em into sense, on
bread and water.”

“What 's to be done with Eccles?”

“He! We do n't want him, anyhow. He 's a born simpleton.
But he 's so easy, that, once out to sea, I reckon we can bring
him to anything.”

“Did you see anything of her — the captain's wife — when you
were in town?”

“See! Did n't I? She was ridin' out in a grand coach, with
another woman, all in flyin' colors, all the flags of all the nations;
four horses in silver harness, and two outriders in green and gold
uniforms. She 's the town beauty. I heard more of her than I
can tell of her: she 's at all the balls and dances; and they talk
of her as a Spanish lady, with a mint of money. Sproulls had a
great deal to say about her. There was a dozen young rakes,
most of 'em noblemen's sons, at her skairts all the time. What 's
the best fun of all, she passes for a young, unmarried innocent —
a senorita somebody — Mountainair, I think — fresh from Florida!
Young Cavendish — a lord, they say — is in turtle-fits all the time
on her account; and there 's more young lords besides, that she
keeps in a sort of gander-heaven.”

Molyneaux stirred his whiskers fiercely as he heard this account.
The other continued — having his motive in it, no
doubt:—

“Sproulls p'inted out to me where she lived — with one Mother
Anderson, or Parkins, 't was one or both — and told me all about
her! There 's to be a grand, smashin' party at her house on
Thursday night next, when everybody 's got to go in masks and
disguise-dresses, after the French or Spanish fancy. In town,
they talks of nothin' else; and I reckon they 'll use up, for the
occasion, all the fine silks, and satins, and velvets, that we 've sold
'em. Calvert got to the right market this time, and helped to
make it when he carried his frisky wife down there, under a false
name.”

The effect of this communication upon Molyneaux was instantaneous.
He started to his feet, struck his forehead sharply, and
strode a few paces, right and left, under the trees. Sam Fowler
seemed somewhat surprised by the effect he had produced.

“Why, what 's the matter, lieutenant?”

“When is that party to take place, did you say, Sam?”

“Thursday next.”

“Almost a week off. I must be at that party, Sam.”

“How can you, when we may have to weigh anchor at a moment's
warnin'?”

“I care not for that: I must be at that party. I must see Zulieme;

I must see and speak with her. Everything depends
upon it.”

Sam expostulated. He had overshot his mark. Whatever
his real object, he had not calculated on such an effect from his
communication. He now, earnestly enough, endeavored to dissuade
his hot-headed ally from his purpose; but in vain. Never
was Celt more doggedly determined.

“I will go, if all the devils in h—l stand against me! Do n't
think to dissuade me, Sam. I have submitted to you in everything;
but I 'll be d—d if I submit in this! I will see her.”

“But how will you get there? At these parties, they ax you
for your tickets. There 's an invitation and a ticket; and where
are you to get one?”

“Ticket! as if any of their nigger-servants could stop me entering
a lady's parlor! They won't try it. They 're not very
strict at these parties; and when they see a fellow well dressed,
presenting himself boldly, they take some things for granted.”

“Yes; but when supper-time comes, you 've got to unmask.”

“Well, suppose I do n't stay for supper! Do n't you be afraid,
Sam: I 've the head for any situation.”

“Ef you do n't get your head into sich a sitiation as will make
it hard to get it out ag'in!”

“I 'll take the risk.”

“I 'll go with you, down to the city at least, and have the boat
ready for anything that happens,” was the conclusion of Sam,
finally giving up the contest. Molyneaux was no longer to be
reasoned with, and the old sea-dog was disposed to make the most
of a difficult customer.

“I 'll go with you; but a week of waitin'! And how if Calvert
comes up in the meantime, and orders us to weigh anchor?”

“Then muzzle him, as you propose! Once in the hold of the
vessel, hatches close, what 's to prevent us doing what we please?”

“It may be done — must be done, if it comes to the worst; but
we may have to fight for it. Remember, we 've got only nineteen
of the fellows dead sure.'

“We must do what 's needful. If he forces us to the worst,
his blood be upon his own head! And Zulieme I will see! I
will know from herself what she feels.”

“And ef she grins at you, like a monkey on a high tree?”

“Then I seize if I can, and plead no longer! It will be easy
enough to carry her off.”

“Ef you can get at her! and that 's easy, ef you do n't give
her a scare beforehand. 'T won't be hard to get her out in the
dusk, with some message from Calvert.”

“True, true! we must arrange all that. I will have her, by
all the devils!”

The conference pretty much closed here for the night. The
two conspirators returned severally to the vessel, Molyneaux
being last.