Читать книгу Dutch the Diver; Or, A Man's Mistake - George Manville Fenn - Страница 6

The last words of his employer had such an effect upon Dutch Pugh that he leaped from his stool, and began to pace the office excitedly, for this was beyond his wildest dreams. Partner in such a business, where he knew that many thousands were netted every year! He could hardly believe it. At one moment he was all exhilaration, thinking of the delight it would afford his young wife; at the next, he felt a strange sensation of depression, as of coming trouble. It was as if the sunshine of his life had been crossed by a black shadow; and minute by minute this increased upon him, till he shuddered, started, and turned round, to glance uneasily about the office, as if expecting to see trouble there.

And then it seemed to him as if the three goblinlike figures were laughing and blinking at him weirdly, menacing him with crowbar and hatchet; and, as if in a dream for the next few moments, he seemed to see himself engaged in some dangerous diving experiment, and at the mercy of an enemy who sought his life, while his young wife pleaded for him and in vain.

It was all misty and strange; his brain was confused, and he could the next minute no more have analysed this waking dream, or idealised the actors therein, than have flown; but there, for a few brief moments, was the impression upon him of coming trouble—trouble so horrible that it menaced his life and the honour of her he most dearly loved. That was the impression; but how, when, where, he could not comprehend.

“Am I going mad?” he exclaimed, dashing his hand to his forehead. “What an idiot I am!” he cried, with a forced laugh. “That old rascal has made the place like an oven, and the blood has flown to my head. There, only to think what trifles will upset a man, and, if he is weak-minded, make him superstitious and fanciful. Some men would have really believed that a terrible calamity was about to befall them, when it was only—”

“Here’s a gentleman to see you,” said Rasp, barking out his words, and ushering in a stranger.

Dutch Pugh involuntarily started, for he seemed to be in the presence of a stranger, and yet somehow the face was familiar to him. It was that of an exceedingly handsome man of about thirty, who took off a soft sombrero hat, and loosened the folds of a heavy black cloak, one end of which was thrown over his shoulder. He was evidently a foreigner, for his complexion was of a rich creamy tinge, his crisp black hair curled closely round a broad, high forehead, his dark eyes glittered beneath straight black brows, his nose was slightly aquiline, and the lower part of his face was covered with a thick, silky, black beard.

As he loosened the cords of his heavy cloak with his carefully-gloved hand, Dutch Pugh saw that he was faultlessly dressed, and, as he smiled and showed his white teeth, he said in good English, but with a perceptible foreign accent—

“Mr Parkley, I learn, is out. I address Mr Pugh?”

“The same,” said Dutch, who seemed fascinated by his look. “Will you take a chair?”

A cold chill came over the speaker as the visitor smiled and seated himself, but only to be succeeded by a feeling of suffocation; and for an instant his brain swam, and the dreamy feeling seemed about to return, but it passed off instantly, as, rousing himself, Dutch said—

“You will find this room too hot, perhaps. Shall I open—”

“Hot!” laughed the stranger, taking out a card and letter of introduction. “My dear sir, it is comfortable after your chilly streets. I am from Cuba, where we see the sun.”

As he spoke he handed a card, upon which was printed—“Señor Manuel Lauré.”

“You will open the letter?” he continued, passing the one he held in his hand. “No?”

“Mr Parkley will be here shortly,” said Dutch. “Would you prefer to see him?”

“Yes—no,” said the stranger. “I should like to see him, but I am content to talk to you. You Englishmen are so intelligent, and those who sent me here told me that their fellow-countrymen would be ready to help my designs.”

“May I ask what they are?” said Dutch, who began to feel suspicious of the stranger.

“Yes, for I shall betray nothing. First, am I right? Yes,” he said, glancing round, and pointing at the diving suits. “I see I am right. You work under water—dive?”

“That is our business, and the making of apparatus.”

“Apparatus? Oh, yes, I understand. Would you—would Mr Parkley like to make a great fortune?”

“Not a doubt about it,” said Mr Parkley, entering, all hat and comforter. “How do?” he continued, bluffly, as the visitor rose and bowed, and then scanned him searchingly, as hat and comforter were placed once more upon the diving suit.

“This is Mr Parkley, the head of this establishment.”

“I am delighted,” said the stranger, raising his eyebrows, and half-closing his eyes. “Will you, then, read?”

“Thinks I don’t look it, Pugh,” said Mr Parkley aside, as he took the letter handed him, opened it, glanced at the contents and superscription, and then handed it to Dutch.

“Sit down, sir,” he said, sharply, as he perched himself on a stool as jerkily as the stranger resumed his full of grace. “Read it aloud, Mr Pugh.”

Dutch still felt troubled; but he read, in a clear voice, the letter from a well-known English firm at Havana.

“Dear Sir,—The bearer of this, Señor Manuel Lauré, comes to you with our earnest recommendation. He has certain peculiar projects that he will explain. To some people they would seem wild and visionary; but to you, with your appliances, they will doubtless appear in a very different light. He is a gentleman of good position here, and worthy of your respect. If you do not see fit to carry out his wishes, kindly place him in communication with some other firm, and do what you can to prevent his being imposed upon.—Faithfully yours,—

“Roberts and Moore.

“To Mr Parkley, Ramwich.”

“Glad to see you, sir,” said Mr Parkley, upon whom the letter wrought a complete change. “Good people, Roberts and Moore. Supplied them with a complete diving apparatus. So you’ve come over on purpose to offer me a fortune?”

“Yes,” said the visitor, “a great fortune. You smile, but listen. Do I think you a child, sir? Oh, no. I do not tell you I want to make a great fortune for you only, but for myself as well.”

“Of course,” said Mr Parkley, smiling, and showing in his manner how thoroughly business-like he was. “I thought that had to come.”

“See here, sir—This Mr Pugh is in your confidence?”

“Quite. Go on.”

“See, then: I have travelled much, boating—yachting you would call it in England—all around the shores of the Great Gulf of Mexico. I know every island and piece of coast in the Carib Sea.”

“Yes,” said Mr Parkley, drumming on the desk.

“I have made discoveries there.”

“Mines?” said Mr Parkley. “Not in my way.”

“No, sir—better than mines; for the gold and silver are gathered and smelted—cast into ingots.”

“Buried treasure, eh? Not in my way, sir—not in my way.”

“Yes, buried treasure, Mr Parkley; but buried in the bright, clear sea, where the sun lights up the sand and rocks below.”

“Sea, eh? Well, that is more in our way. Eh, Pugh?”

“Read the old chronicles of the time, sir, two or three hundred years ago,” said the Cuban, rising, with his eyes flashing, and his handsome face lit up by his glowing excitement, “and you shall find that gold ships and plate-ships—ships laden with the treasures of Mexico and Peru, taken by the Spaniards, were sunk here and there upon those wondrous coasts.”

“Old women’s tales,” said Mr Parkley, abruptly. “Cock-and-bull stories.”

“I do not quite understand,” said the Cuban, haughtily, “except that you doubt me. Sir, these are truths. I doubted first; but for five years in a small vessel I have searched the Carib Sea, and I can take you to where three ships have been wrecked and sunk—ships whose existence is only known to me.”

“Very likely,” said Mr Parkley; “but that don’t prove that they were laden with gold.”

“Look,” said the Cuban, taking from a pocket in his cloak a packet, and, opening it out, he unwrapped two papers, in one of which was a small ingot of gold, in the other a bar of silver. They were cast in a very rough fashion, and the peculiarity that gave strength to the Cuban’s story was that each bar of about six inches long was for the most part encrusted with barnacle-like shells and other peculiar sea growths.

“Hum! Could this have been stuck on, Pugh?” said Mr Parkley, curiously examining each bar in turn.

“I think not, sir, decidedly,” said Pugh. “Those pieces of metal must have been under water for a great length of time.”

“You are right, Mr Pugh,” said the Cuban, whose face brightened. “You are a man of sound sense. They have been under water three hundred years.”

He smiled at the young Englishman as he spoke, but the other felt repelled by him, and his looks were cold.

“How did you get those bars and ingots?” said Mr Parkley, abruptly.

“From amongst the rotten timbers of an old galleon,” said the Cuban. “But where?”

“That is my secret. Thirty feet below the surface at low water.”

“Easy depth,” said Mr Parkley, thoughtfully. “But why did you not get more?”

“Sir, am I a fish? I practised diving till I could go down with a stone, and stay a minute; but what is that? How could I tear away shell, and coral, and hard wood, and sand, and stones. I find six such bars, and I am satisfied. I seek for years for the place, and I know three huge mines of wealth for the bold Englishmen who would fit out a ship with things like these”—pointing to the diving suits—“with brave men who will go down with bars, and stay an hour, and break a way to the treasure, and there load—load that ship with gold and silver, and perhaps rich jewels. Sir, I say to you,” he continued, his face gradually glowing in excitement, “are you the brave Englishman who will fit out a ship and go with me? I say, make a written bond of agreement to find all we shall want in what you call apparatus and brave men. I show you the exact place. I take your ship to the spot to anchor, and then, when we get the treasures, I take half for myself, and you take half for yourselves. Is it fair?”

“Yes, it sounds fair enough,” said Mr Parkley, rubbing his nose with a pair of compasses. “What do you say, Pugh?”

“I hardly know what to say, sir. The project is tempting, certainly; but—”

“But it is a monstrous fortune,” said the Cuban. “It is an opportunity that cannot come twice to a man. Do you hear? Great ingots of gold and bars of silver. Treasures untold, of which I offer you half, and yet you English people are so cold and unmovable. Why, a Spaniard or a Frenchman would have gone mad with excitement.”

“Yes,” said Mr Parkley, “but we don’t do that sort of thing here.”

“No,” said the Cuban, “you are so cold.”

“It takes some time to warm us, sir,” said Dutch, sternly; “but when we are hot, we keep so till our work is done. Your Frenchman and Spaniard soon get hot, and are cold directly.”

“That’s right, Pugh, every word,” said Mr Parkley, nodding his head.

“Then you refuse my offer?” said the Cuban, with a bitter look of contempt stealing over his face.

“Do I?” replied Mr Parkley.

“Yes, you are silent—you do not respond.”

“Englishmen don’t risk ten thousand pounds without looking where it is to go, my fine fellow,” said Mr Parkley, drumming away at the desk. “I don’t say I shall not take it up, and I don’t say I shall.”

“You doubt me, then. Are not my papers good?”

“Unexceptionable.”

“Is not the half of the wondrous wealth enough for you? You who only take out your ship and divers to get what it has taken me years to find. I tell you there are cargoes of this rich metal lying there—hundreds of thousands of pounds—a princely fortune; and yet you hesitate.”

“Are there any volcanoes your way?” said Mr Parkley, drily.

“Yes—many. Why?”

“I thought so,” said the sturdy Englishman.

“It is enough,” cried the Cuban, haughtily. “You play with me, and insult me.”

And, as he spoke, with flashing eyes, he snatched at the two ingots, and began to wrap them up, but with a smile of contempt he threw them back on the desk.

“No, we do not,” said Mr Parkley quietly; “only you are so red hot. I must have time to think.”

“Time to think?”

“Yes. I like the idea, and I think I shall accept your offer.”

“You believe in my papers, then?”

“Oh, yes, they are beyond suspicion,” said Mr Parkley, holding out his hand. “Only there are so many tricks played that one has to go carefully. Well, how are you? Glad to see you, and hope we shall be good friends.”

“My great friend!” exclaimed the Cuban, throwing his arms round the sturdy little man, and nearly oversetting him, stool and all, in his fervid embrace. “They were right: you are the true enterprising man of energy after all.”

“I say, don’t do that again, please,” said Mr Parkley. “We shake hands here, and save those hugs for the other sex—at least the young fellows do.”

“But I am overjoyed,” exclaimed the Cuban, enthusiastically. “Here, I will be English,” he cried, holding out his hand and shaking that of Dutch most heartily. “We two shall be great friends, I see. You will come too. You are young and full of energy, and you shall be as rich as he. You shall both draw up gold in heaps and be princes. Thank you both—thank you. And now we will make our plans.”

“Gently, gently,” exclaimed Mr Parkley; “this all takes time. If that treasure has lain for three hundred years at the bottom of the sea, it will be safe for a few months longer.”

“Ah, yes, yes.”

“Then we must take our time, and, if we go, make plenty of preparation.”

“Yes, yes,” said the Cuban; “take plenty of diving suits and a diving bell.”

“Don’t you fidget about that, sir,” said Mr Parkley, proudly. “I think we can find such appliances as will do the trick. Eh, Pugh?”

Dutch nodded, and then looked uneasily at the Cuban, whose presence seemed to fill him with a vague trouble.

“I’ve got an important contract on too,” continued Parkley.

“A contract?” said the Cuban. “A new machine?”

“No, no; a bond such as we must have to do certain work.”

“Yes, yes. I see.”

“I’ve got to empty a ship off the coast here. She went down, laden with copper.”

“I must see that,” cried the Cuban, excitedly. “Where is it? Let us go. I must see the men go under water.”

“All in good time, sir—all in good time; for I must finish that job first. Well, Rasp,” he continued, as that worthy came in.

“It’s Mrs Pug, sir. Shall I show her in?”

“No, no,” exclaimed Dutch, eagerly.

But he was too late; for, as he spoke, a lady-like figure entered the room, and the bright, fair, girlish face, with its clustering curls of rich dark-brown hair, turned from one to the other in a timid, apologetic way.

“I am sorry,” she faltered. “You are engaged. My husband arranged—”

“Come in, my dear—come in,” said Mr Parkley, hopping off his stool, taking her hands, and patting them affectionately, as he placed her in a chair. “We’ve about done for to-day; and if we had not, there’s nothing you might not hear. I’ll be bound to say, Pugh keeps nothing from you.”

“But she is beautiful!” muttered the Cuban, with sparkling eyes, as his lips parted, and a warm flush came into his creamy cheeks; while Dutch turned pale as he saw his admiration, and the vague feeling of dread came once more in combination with one of dislike.