After the dishes had been swept aside from supper, Handy Solomon announced
a second attempt to open the chest.
"Pancho, here, says he's been a mechanic," said he. "I right well know
he's been a housebreaker. So he's got the _sabe_ for the job, and you can
kiss the Book on that."
Perdosa, with a grin, leaned over the cover from behind and began to pick
away at the lock with a long, crooked wire. The others drew close about. I
slipped nearer the door, imagining that in their riveted interest I saw my
opportunity. To my surprise I caught a glimpse of legs disappearing up the
companion. I took stock. Pulz had gone on deck.
This surprised me, for I should have thought every man interested enough
in the supposed treasure to wish to be present at its uncovering; and it
annoyed me still more--the success of my plan demanded a clear deck.
However, there was nothing for it now but to trust that Pulz had wished to
visit the forecastle, and that I might find the afterworks empty.
I paused at the foot of the companion and looked back. A breathlessness of
excitement held the pirates in a vise. From above, the hanging lamp threw
strong shadows across their faces, bringing out the deep lines,
accentuating the dominant passions. With their rags and blood, their
unshaven faces, their firearms, their filth, they showed in violent
antithesis to the immaculate white of Old Scrubs's cabin, its glittering
brass, and its shining leather. I darted up the steps.
The contrast of the starry night with the glare of the cabin lamp dazzled
my eyes. I stood stock still for a moment, during which the only sounds
audible were the singing of the winds through the rigging, the wash of the
sea, and the small, sharp click of Perdosa's instrument as he worked at
the chest.
Presently I could see better. I looked forward and aft for Pulz, but could
see nothing of him, and had just about concluded that he had gone forward
when I happened to glance aloft. There, to my astonishment, I made him
out, huddled in silhouette against the stars, close to the main truck.
What he was doing there I could not imagine. However, I did not have time
to bother my head about him, further than to rejoice that he could not
obstruct me.
I should very much have liked to get hold of a rifle and ammunition, or at
least to lay in biscuit and water, but for this there was no time. It was
not absolutely essential. The dull glow of the island was still visible. I
had my pillar of fire and smoke to guide me.
Without further delay I jerked loose the painter and drew the extra dory
alongside.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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