A High Wind in Jamaica - Richard Hughes [68]
"I shall cut the captain's head off and throw it in the water!" he declared aloud.
"S-s-sh!" exclaimed Harry in a stage whisper.
"Coo! I don't care!" cried Edward, intoxicated with bravado. "Then I shall take out all the gold and keep it for myself."
"I shall sink it!" said Harry, in imitation: then added as an afterthought, "Right to the very bottom!"
Emily fell silent, her peculiarly vivid imagination having the mastery of her. She saw the hold of the steamer, piled with gold and jewels. She saw herself, fighting her way through hordes of hairy sailors, with her bare fists, till only the steamer's captain stood between her and the treasure.
Then it happened! It was as if a small cold voice inside her said suddenly, _"How can you? You're only a little girl!"_ She felt herself falling giddily from the heights, shrinking. She was _Emily_.
The awful, blood-covered face of the Dutch captain seemed to threaten her out of the air. She cowered back at the shock. But it was over in a moment.
She looked around her in terror. Did any one know how defenseless she was? Surely some one must have noticed her. The other children were gibbering in their animal innocence. The sailors, their knives half concealed, grinned at each other or cursed. Otto, his brows knotted, stood with his eyes fixed on the steamer.
She feared everybody, she hated everybody.
Margaret was whispering something to Edward, and he nodded. Again panic seized her. What was Margaret telling him? Had she told every one? Did they all know? Were they all playing with her, deceiving her by pretending not to know, waiting their own time to burst their revelation on her and punish her in some quite unimaginably awful way?
_Had_ Margaret told? If she crept up behind Margaret now, and pushed her in the sea, might she yet be in time?--But even as she thought it, she seemed to see Margaret rising waist-high out of the waves, telling the whole story to everybody in a calm, dispassionate voice, and climbing back on board.
In another flash she saw the fat, comfortable person of her mother, standing at the door of Ferndale, abusing the cook.
Again her eyes roamed round the sinister reality of the schooner. She suddenly felt sick to death of it all: tired, beyond words tired. Why must she be chained for ever to this awful life? Could she never escape, never get back to the ordinary life little girls lead, with their papas and mamas and.. . birthday cakes?
Otto called her. She went to him obediently: though with a presentiment that it was to her execution. He turned, and called Margaret too.
She was in a more attentive mood than she had been the other night with the captain, Heaven knows! But Otto was too preoccupied to notice how frightened her eyes were.
Jonsen had no easy task on the steamer: but Otto did not greatly relish his own. He did not know how to begin--and everything depended on his success.
"See here," he burst out. "You're going to England."
Emily shot him a quick glance. "Yes?" she said at last: her voice showing merely a polite interest.
"The captain has gone onto that steamboat to arrange about it."
"Aren't we staying with you any longer, then?"
"No," said Otto: "you're going home on that steamboat."
"Shan't we see you any more, then?" Emily pursued.
"No," said Otto: "--Well, some day, perhaps."
"Are they all going, or only us two?"
"Why, all of you, of course!"
"Oh. I didn't know."
There was an awkward silence, while Otto wondered how to tackle the real problem.
"Had we better go and get ready?" asked Margaret.
"Now listen!" Otto interrupted her. "When you get on board, they'll ask you all about everything. They'll want to know how you got here."
"Are we to tell them?"
Otto was astonished she took his point so readily.
"No," he said. "The captain and me don't want you to. We want you to keep it a secret, do you see?"
"What _are_ we to say, then?" Emily asked.
"Tell them . . . you were captured by pirates, and