Suddenly he stopped.
"You saw nothing else?" he asked, facing round and looking into my
eyes.
"No, sir."
"Nor anybody?"
"Nobody, sir."
"You are sure you saw nobody but me? You didn't happen to see a tall
man with black hair, and rings in his ears?"
"Oh, no, sir."
"You'll swear you saw no such man? Swear it now; say, 'So help me,
God, I haven't seen anybody on the beach but you.'"
I swore it.
"Say, 'Strike me blind if I have!'"
I repeated the words after him, and, with a hurried look around, he
set off running again towards the rock. I had much ado to keep from
tumbling, and even from crying aloud with pain, so tight was his
grip. Fast as we went, the man's teeth chattered and his limbs
shook; his wet clothes flapped and fluttered in the cold morning
breeze; his face was drawn and pinched with exhaustion, but he never
slackened his pace until we reached Dead Man's Rock. Here he stopped
and looked around again.
"Is there any place to hide in hereabouts?" he suddenly asked.
The oddness of the question took me aback: and, indeed, the whole
conduct of the man was so strange that I was heartily frightened, and
longed greatly to run away. There was no help for it, however, so I
made shift to answer--
"There is a nice cave in Ready-Money Cove, which is the next cove to
this, sir. The smugglers used to use it because it was hidden so,
but--"
I suppose my eyes told him that I was wondering why he should want to
hide, for he broke in again--
"Well, show me this cap. Out on the face of this rock, you say--
what's the name? Dead Man's Rock, eh? Well, it's an ugly name
enough, and an ugly rock enough!" he added, with a shiver.
I climbed up the rock, and he after me, until we gained the ledge
where I had stood before. I looked down. The cap was still lying
there, and the tide had ebbed still further.
My companion looked for a moment, then, with a short cry, scrambled
quickly down and picked it up. To me it had looked like any ordinary
sailor's cap, but he examined it, fingered it, and pulled it about,
muttering all the time, so that I imagined it must be his own, though
at a loss to know why he made so much of recovering it. At last he
climbed up again, holding it in his hands, and still muttering to
himself--
"His cap, sure enough; nothing in it, though. But he was much too
clever a devil. However, he's gone right enough; I knew he must, and
this proves it, curse him! Well, I'll wear it. He's not left behind
as much as he thought, but mad enough he'd be to think I was his
heir. I'll wear it for old acquaintance' sake. Sit down, boy," he
said aloud to me; "we're safe here, and can't be seen. I want to
talk with you."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account