Dutch the Diver: or, A Man's Mistake. Fenn George Manville

exclaimed Lauré in a loud voice, and, turning to Mr Parkley, he pointed to Dutch and said, “That is your partner, is it not, Mr Parkley?”

      “Yes, certainly.”

      “And he will share in the profits of this expedition?”

      “Certainly he will, sir.”

      “Then, sir, I break our engagement. I shall have nothing to do with the voyage. The matter is entirely off.”

      “Confound it all, sir!” cried Mr Parkley, in a passion. “You can’t do that.”

      “But, sir, I have done it,” said the Cuban, lighting a cigar.

      “What! After I’ve spent all this money in preparation?”

      “I have told you,” said the Cuban, contemptuously – and he gave a malignant glance at Dutch.

      “Mr Parkley,” said Dutch, stepping forward, “my private quarrel with this man shall not stand in your way. All this preparation has been made for the expedition, and my being your partner shall not stop it. Sir, our partnership is at an end.”

      “Is it?” said Mr Parkley, with his teeth set. “No, I’ll be hanged if it is;” and as the men gathered round, wondering at what they had heard, he laid his hand on Dutch Pugh’s shoulder. “I’ve proved you, my lad, but I’ve not proved this man, who at the first touch bends and nearly breaks. We are partners, and mean to stay so, and Mr Lorry here will have to keep to his bond, or I’ll soon see what the law says to him.”

      The Cuban smiled contemptuously.

      “Suppose I say it was all a mad dream, and I know of no such place: what then?”

      “Why, you are a bigger scoundrel than I took you for.”

      “Sir!” cried the Cuban, menacingly.

      “Oh, you want to frighten me with your big looks, sir,” cried Mr Parkley. “Now then, I ask you in plain English, will you fulfil your undertaking, and show me the place where the old Spanish galleons are sunk?”

      “No,” said the Cuban, coolly, “I will not help to enrich my enemy!” and he again looked indignantly at Dutch.

      “Mr Parkley!” exclaimed the latter, “I cannot see all this costly enterprise ruined because of my private trouble with this villain.”

      “Villain!” cried Lauré, confronting Dutch, whose face flushed and whose hands were half raised to seize his enemy.

      “Be silent,” he said, in a low, hoarse voice, “I’ve that within me that I can hardly control. If you rouse it again, by the God who made me, I’ll strangle you and hurl you over the side.”

      The Cuban involuntarily shrank from the menacing face before him, and Dutch by a strong effort turned to Mr Parkley.

      “Make terms with him, sir. I will not stand in your way.”

      “Yes, I’ll make terms with him,” exclaimed Mr Parkley, angrily. “Now, sir, I ask you again will you fulfil your contract?”

      The Cuban half-closed his eyes, puffed forth a ring of smoke, and said quietly, —

      “In my country, when one man strikes another the insult is washed out in blood. Your bold partner there has struck me, a weaker man than himself, and I cannot avenge the insult, for you cold islanders here boast of your courage, but you will not equalise the weak and strong by placing the sword, the knife, or the pistol in their hands. You say no; that is the law. You call in your police. Fools! cowards! do you think that will satisfy me?”

      “Did Mr Pugh strike you, then?” said Mr Parkley.

      “Yes, three cruel blows,” hissed the Cuban, with his face distorted with rage.

      “Then you must have deserved it,” cried Mr Parkley.

      “You think so,” said the Cuban, growing unnaturally calm again. “Then I say I must have satisfaction somehow. Your partner makes me his enemy, and you must suffer. I shall not fulfil my contract. I will not take you where the galleons lie. You have made your preparations. Good. You must suffer for it, even as I suffer. I give up one of the dreams of my life. I will not go.”

      A pang shot through Dutch Pugh’s breast, for in this refusal to depart he saw an excuse to remain in England, and once more the hot blood rose to his face.

      “You absolutely refuse, then, to show Captain Studwick and me where the objects we seek are hid?” said Mr Parkley, turning up his cuffs as if he meant to fight; and the Cuban’s hand went into his breast.

      “I absolutely refuse,” said the Cuban, disdainfully.

      “You know, I suppose, that you forfeit half the result,” said Mr Parkley.

      “Yes,” said the Cuban, moving towards the gangway, “I know I lose half the result.”

      “You know I have spent five thousand pounds in preparations,” said Mr Parkley, calmly.

      “Yes,” sneered the Cuban, “and you have your law. Go to it for revenge; it may please you.”

      “No,” said Mr Parkley, looking round at the frowning faces of his friends; “that means spending another thousand to gain the day, and nothing to be obtained of a beggarly Cuban adventurer, who has neither money nor honour.”

      “Take care!” cried Lauré, flashing into rage, and baring his teeth like some wild cat. But the next instant, with wonderful self-command, he cooled down, standing erect, proud and handsome, with his great black beard half-way down his breast. “Bah!” he exclaimed, “the English diving-master is angry, and stoops to utter coward’s insults.”

      “I’ll show you, Mr Lorry, that I am no coward over this,” said Mr Parkley, firmly. “You mean to throw us over, then, now that we are ready to start.”

      “You threaten to throw me over,” said the Cuban, smiling disdainfully. “If you mean, do I still refuse to go, I say yes! yes! yes! You and your partner shall never touch a single bar of the treasure. Ha! ha! What will you do now?”

      “Start without you,” said Mr Parkley, coolly. “Captain Studwick, see that this man goes ashore.”

      The Cuban was already close to the gangway, but he turned sharply round, and took a couple of steps towards the last speaker.

      “What!” he said, with a look of apprehension flashing out of his eyes. “You will go yourself without one to guide you?”

      “Yes,” said Mr Parkley; “and if you went down on your knees now to beg me, damme, sir, you’ve broke your contract, and I wouldn’t take you.”

      “Ha – ha – ha – ha – ha!” laughed the Cuban, derisively, as he quickly recovered his composure. “A beggarly threat. Do you not know that it took me five years of constant toil to make the discovery? and you talk like this!”

      “Yes,” said Mr Parkley. “It took a beggarly mongrel foreigner five years, no doubt; but it would not take an enterprising Englishman five weeks.”

      The Cuban’s hand went into his breast again as he heard the words “beggarly mongrel foreigner,” and Captain Studwick grasped a marlin-spike, ready to strike his arm down if he drew a weapon; but the rage was crushed down directly, and Lauré laughed again derisively.

      “Go, then, fools, if you like. But I know: it is an empty threat. Ha, ha, ha! Go alone. A pleasant voyage, Señor Parkley, and you, too, Señor Captain. You will perhaps find me there before you.”

      “Perhaps,” said Mr Parkley. “But go I will, and hang me if I come back till I have found it.”

      “Well, for the matter o’ that, Master Parkley and Capen Studwick,” said a rough voice, “if it means putting the schooner at anchor where them Spanish galleons was sunk in the Carib Sea, if you’ll let me take the wheel, and you’ll find fine weather, I’ll steer you to the very spot.”

      Story 1-Chapter IX.

      ’Pollo’s Evidence

      “What?”