the voice in the air
robert slept long and peacefully the night after his christmas dinner, and, when he rose the next morning, he felt more buoyant and hopeful than for days past. the celebration had been a sort of anchor to his spirit, keeping him firm against any tide of depression that in his situation might well have swept him toward despair. as he recalled it the day after, tayoga, willet and grosvenor were very vivid figures at his table, sitting opposite him, and to right and left. they had responded to his toast, he had seen the flash in their eyes, and their tones were resonant with hope and confidence. it was clear they had meant to tell him that rescue was coming.
he accepted these voices out of the distance as definite and real. it could not be long until he saw the hunter, the onondaga and the young englishman once more. his lonely life caused him, despite himself, to lend a greater belief to signs and omens. tayoga was right when he peopled the air with spirits, and most of the spirits on that island must be good spirits, since all things, except escape, had been made easy for him, house, clothes, food and safety.
the day itself was singularly crisp and bright, inciting to further cheerfulness. it was also the coldest he had yet felt on the island, having a northern tang that stirred[pg 159] his blood. he could shut his eyes and see the great forests, not in winter, but as they were in autumn, glowing in many colors, and with an air that was the very breath of life. the sea also sang a pleasant song as it rolled in and broke on the rocks, and robert, looking around at his island, felt that he could have fared far worse.
rifle on shoulder he went off for a long and brisk walk, and his steps unconsciously took him, as they often did, toward the high hill in the center of the island, a crest that he used as a lookout. on his way he passed his friend, the old bull, grazing in a meadow, and, watching his herd, like the faithful guardian he was. robert called to him cheerfully. the big fellow looked up, shook his horns, not in hostile fashion but in the manner of comrade saluting comrade, and then went back, with a whole and confident heart, to his task of nipping the grass. robert was pleased. it was certain that the bull no longer regarded him with either fear or apprehension, and he wanted to be liked.
it was nearly noon when he reached his summit, and as he was warm from exercise he sat down on a rock, staying there a long time and scouring the horizon now and then through the glasses. the sea was a circle of blazing blue, and the light wind sang from the southwest.
he had brought food with him and in the middle of the day he ate it. with nothing in particular to do he thought he would spend the afternoon there, and, making himself comfortable, he waited, still taking occasional glances through the glasses. while he sat, idling more than anything else, his mind became occupied with tayoga's theory of spirits in the air—less a theory however than the religious belief of the indians.
he wanted to believe that tayoga was right, and his[pg 160] imagination was so vivid and intense that what he wished to believe he usually ended by believing. he shut his eyes and tested his power of evocation. he knew that he could create feeling in any part of his body merely by concentrating his mind upon that particular part of it and by continuing to think of it. physical sensation even came from will. so he would imagine that he heard spirits in the air all about him, not anything weird or hostile, but just kindly people of the clouds and winds, such as those created by the old greeks.
fancying that he heard whispers about him and resolved to hear them, he heard them. if a powerful imagination wanted to create whispers it could create them. the spirits of the air, tayoga's spirits, the spirits of old hellas, were singing in either ear, and the song, like that of the sea, like the flavor breathed out by his christmas celebration, was full of courage, alive with hope.
he had kept his eyes closed a full half hour, because, with sight shut off, the other senses became much more acute for the time. the power that had been in the eyes was poured into their allies. imagination, in particular, leaped into a sudden luxuriant growth. it was true, of course it was quite true, that those friendly spirits of the air were singing all about him. they were singing in unison a gay and brilliant song, very pleasant to hear, until he was startled by a new note that came into it, a note not in harmony with the others, the voice of cassandra herself. he listened and he was sure. beyond a doubt it was a note of warning.
robert opened his eyes and everything went away. there was the pleasant, green island, and there was the deep blue sea all about it. he laughed to himself. he was letting imagination go too far. one could make believe too much. he sat idly a few minutes and then,[pg 161] putting the glasses to his eyes, took another survey of the far horizon where blue sky and blue water met. he moved the focus slowly around the circle, and when he came to a point in the east he started violently, then sprang to his feet, every pulse leaping.
he had seen a tiny black dot upon the water, one that broke the continuity of the horizon line, and, for a little while, he was too excited to look again. he stood, the glasses in his trembling fingers and stared with naked eyes that he knew could not see. after a while he put the glasses back and then followed the horizon. he was afraid that it was an illusion, that his imagination had become too vivid, creating for him the thing that was not, and now that he was a little calmer he meant to put it to the proof.
he moved the glasses slowly from north to east, following the line where sky and water met, and then the hands that held them trembled again. there was the black spot, a trifle larger now, and, forcing his nerves to be calm, he stared at it a long time, how long he never knew, but long enough for him to see it grow and take form and shape, for the infinitesimal but definite outline of mast, sails and hull to emerge, and then for a complete ship to be disclosed.
the ship was coming toward the island. the increase in size told him that. it was no will-o'-the-wisp on the water, appearing a moment, then gone, foully cheating his hopes. if she kept her course, and there was no reason why she should not, she would make the island. he had no doubt from the first that a landing there was its definite purpose, most likely for water.
when he took the glasses from his eyes the second time he gave way to joy. rescue was at hand. the ship, wherever she went, would take him to some place[pg 162] where human beings lived, and he could go thence to his own country. he would yet be in time to take part in the great campaign against quebec, sharing the dangers and glory with willet, tayoga, grosvenor and the others. the spirits in the air had sung to him a true song, when his eyes were shut, and, in his leaping exultation, he forgot the warning note that had appeared in their song, faint, almost buried, but nevertheless there.
he put the glasses to his eyes a third time. the ship was tacking, but that was necessary, and it was just as certain as ever that her destination was the island. owing to the shifts and flaws in the wind it would be night before she arrived, but that did not matter to him. having waited months he could wait a few hours longer. likely as not she was an english ship out of the barbadoes, bound for the carolinas. he must be somewhere near just such a course. or, maybe she was a colonial schooner, one of those bold craft from boston. there was a certain luxury in speculating on it, and in prolonging a doubt which would certainly be solved by midnight, and to his satisfaction. it was not often that in real life one looked at a play bound to develop within a given time to a dramatic and satisfying finish.
he remained on the crest until late in the afternoon, watching the ship as she tacked with the varying winds, but, in the end, always bearing toward the island. he was quite sure now that her arrival would be after dark. she would come through the opening in the reefs that he and the slaver had made so hardly in the storm, but on the night bound to follow such a day it would be as easy as entering a drawing room, with the doors held open, and the guest made welcome. he would be there to give the welcome.
he was able to see more of the ship now. as he had[pg 163] surmised, she was a schooner, apparently very trim and handled well. doubtless she was fast. the faster the better, because he was eager to get back to the province of new york.
late in the afternoon, he left the hill and went swiftly back to his house, where he ate an early supper in order that he might be on the beach to give welcome to the guest, and perhaps lend some helpful advice about making port. there was none better fitted than he. he was the oldest resident of the island. nobody could be jealous of his position as adviser to the arriving vessel.
this was to be a great event in his life, and it must be carried out in the proper manner with every attention to detail. he put on the uniform of an english naval officer that he had found on the ship, and then rifle on shoulder and small sword in belt went through the forest toward the inlet.
the night was bright and beautiful, just fitted for a rescue, and an escape from an island. all the stars had come out to see it, and, with his head very high, he trod lightly as he passed among the trees, approaching the quiet beach. before he left the wood he saw the top of the schooner's mast showing over a fringe of bushes. evidently she had anchored outside the reefs and was sending in a boat to look further. well, that was fit and proper, and his advice and assistance would be most timely.
the wind rose a little and it sang a lilting melody among the leaves. his imagination, alive and leaping, turned it into the song of a troubadour, gay and welcoming. tayoga's spirits were abroad again, filling the air in the dusk, their favorite time, and he rejoiced, until he suddenly heard once more that faint note of warn[pg 164]ing, buried under the volume of the other, but nevertheless there.
alone, driven in upon himself for so many months, he was a creature of mysticism that night. what he imagined he believed, and, obedient to the warning, he drew back. all the caution of the northern wilderness returned suddenly to him. he was no longer rushing forward to make a welcome for guests awaited eagerly. he would see what manner of people came before he opened the door. putting the rifle in the hollow of his arm he crept forward through the bushes.
a large boat was coming in from the schooner, and the bright moonlight enabled him to see at first glance that the six men who sat in it were not men of boston. nor were they men of england. they were too dark, and three of them had rings in their ears.
perhaps the schooner was a french privateer, wishing to make a secret landing, and, if so, he had done well to hold back. he had no mind to be taken a prisoner to france. the french were brave, and he would not be ill-treated, but he had other things to do. he withdrew a little farther into the undergrowth. the door of welcome was open now only a few inches, and he was peering out at the crack, every faculty alive and ready to take the alarm.
the boat drew closer, grounded on the beach, and the men, leaping out, dragged it beyond the reach of the low waves that were coming in. then, in a close group, they walked toward the forest, looking about curiously. they were armed heavily, and every one of them had a drawn weapon in his hand, sword or pistol. their actions seemed to robert those of men who expected a stranger, as a matter of course, to be an enemy. hence, they were men whose hands were against other men,[pg 165] and so also against young robert lennox, who had been alone so long, and who craved so much the companionship of his kind.
he drew yet deeper into the undergrowth and taking the rifle out of the hollow of his arm held it in both hands, ready for instant use. the men came nearer, looking along the edge of the forest, perhaps for water, and, as he saw them better, he liked them less. the apparent leader was a short, broad fellow of middle years, and sinister face, with huge gold rings in his ears. all of them were seamed and scarred and to robert their looks were distinctly evil.
the door of welcome suddenly shut with a snap, and he meant to bar it on the inside if he could. his instinct gave him an insistent warning. these men must not penetrate the forest. they must not find his house and treasures. fortunately the dinghy was up the creek, hidden under overhanging boughs. but the event depended upon chance. if they found quickly the water for which they must be looking, they might take it and leave with the schooner before morning. he devoutly hoped that it would be so. the lad who had been so lonely and desolate an hour or two before, longing for the arrival of human beings, was equally eager, now that they had come, that they should go away.
the men began to talk in some foreign tongue, spanish or portuguese or a levantine jargon, perhaps, and searched assiduously along the edges of the forest. robert, lurking in the undergrowth, caught the word "aqua" or "agua," which he knew meant water, and so he was right in his surmise about their errand. there was a fine spring about two hundred yards farther on, and he hoped they would soon stumble upon it.
all his skill as a trailer, though disused now for many[pg 166] months, came back to him. he was able to steal through the grass and bushes without making any noise and to creep near enough to hear the words they said. they went half way to the spring, then stopped and began to talk. robert was in fear lest they turn back, and a wider search elsewhere would surely take them to his house. but the men were now using english.
"there should be water ahead," said the swart leader. "we're going down into a dip, and that's just the place where springs are found."
another man, also short and dark, urged that they turn back, but the leader prevailed.
"there must be water farther on," he said. "i was never on this island before, neither were you, josé, but it's not likely the trees and bushes would grow so thick down there if plenty of water didn't soak their roots."
he had his way and they went on, with robert stalking them on a parallel line in the undergrowth, and now he knew they would find the water. the spirit of the island was watching over its own, and, by giving them what they wanted at once, would send these evil characters away. the leader uttered a shout of triumph when he saw the water gleaming through the trees.
"i told you it was here, didn't i, josé?" he said. "trust me, a sailor though i am, to read the lay of the land."
the spring as it ran from under a rock formed a little pool, and all of the men knelt down, drinking with noise and gurglings. then the leader walked back toward the beach, and fired both shots from a double-barreled pistol into the air. robert judged that it was a signal, probably to indicate that they had found water. presently a second and larger boat, containing at least a dozen men, put out from the schooner. a third soon followed and[pg 167] both brought casks which were filled at the spring and which they carried back to the ship.
robert, still and well hidden, watched everything, and he was glad that he had obeyed his instinct not to trust them. he had never seen a crew more sinister in looks, not even on the slaver, and they were probably pirates. they were a jumble of all nations, and that increased his suspicion. so mixed a company, in a time of war, could be brought together only for evil purposes.
it was hard for him to tell who was the captain, but the leader who had first come ashore seemed to have the most authority, although nearly all did about as they pleased to the accompaniment of much talk and many oaths. still they worked well at filling the water casks, and robert hoped they would soon be gone. near midnight, however, one of the boats came back, loaded with food, and kegs and bottles of spirits. his heart sank. they were going to have a feast or an orgie on the beach and the day would be sure to find them there. then they might conclude to explore the island, or at least far enough to find his house.
they dragged up wood, lighted a fire, warmed their food and ate and drank, talking much, and now and then singing wild songs. robert knew with absolute certainty that this was another pirate ship, a rover of the gulf or the caribbean, hiding among the islands and preying upon anything not strong enough to resist her.
the men filled him with horror and loathing. the light of the flames fell on their faces and heightened the evil in them, if that were possible. several of them, drinking heavily of the spirits, were already in a bestial state, and were quarreling with one another. the others paid no attention to them. there was no discipline.
apparently they were going to make a night of it, and[pg 168] robert watched, fascinated by the first sight of his own kind in many months, but repelled by their savagery when they had come. some of the men fell down before the fires and went to sleep. the others did not awaken them, which he took to be clear proof that they would remain until the next day.
a drop of water fell on his face and he looked up. he had been there so long, and he was so much absorbed in what was passing before his eyes that he had not noted the great change in the nature of the night. moon and stars were gone. heavy clouds were sailing low. thunder muttered on the western horizon, and there were flashes of distant lightning.
hope sprang up in robert's heart. perhaps the fear of a storm would drive them to the shelter of the ship, but they did not stir. either they did not dread rain, or they were more weatherwise than he. the orgie deepened. two of the men who were quarreling drew pistols, but the swart leader struck them aside, and spoke to them so fiercely that they put back their weapons, and, a minute later, robert saw them drinking together in friendship.
the storm did not break. the wind blew, and, now and then, drops of rain fell, but it did not seem able to get beyond the stage of thunder and lightning. yet it tried hard, and it became, even to robert, used to the vagaries of nature, a grim and sinister night. the thunder, in its steady growling, was full of menace, and the lightning, reddish in color, smelled of sulphur. it pleased robert to think that the island was resenting the evil presence of the men from the schooner.
the ruffians, however, seemed to take no notice of the change. it was likely that they had not been ashore for a long time before, and they were making the most of it.[pg 169] they continued to eat and the bottles of spirits were passed continuously from one to another. robert had heard many a dark tale of piracy on the spanish main and among the islands, but he had never dreamed he would come into such close contact with it as he was now doing for the second time.
he knew it was lucky for the men that the storm did not break. the schooner in her position would be almost sure to drag her anchor and then would drive on the rocks, but they seemed to have no apprehensions, and, it was quite evident now, that they were not going back to the vessel until the next day. the ghastly quality of the night increased, however. the lightning flared so much and it was so red that it was uncanny, it even had a supernatural tinge, and the sullen rumbling of the distant thunder added to it.
the effect upon robert, situated as he was and alone for many months, was very great. something weird, something wild and in touch with the storm that threatened but did not break, crept into his own blood. he was filled with hatred and contempt of the men who caroused there. he wondered what crimes they had committed on those seas, and he had not the least doubt that the list was long and terrible. he ought to be an avenging spirit. he wished intensely that tayoga was with him in the bush. the onondaga would be sure to devise some plan to punish them or to fill them with fear. he felt at that moment as if he belonged to a superior race or order, and would like to stretch forth his hand and strike down those who disgraced their kind.
the swart leader at last took note of the skies and their sinister aspect. robert saw him walking back and forth and looking up. more than half of his men were stretched full length, either asleep or in a stupor, but[pg 170] some of the others stood, and glanced at the skies. robert thought he saw apprehension in their eyes, or at least his imagination put it there.
a wild and fantastic impulse seized him. these men were children of the sea, superstitious, firm believers in omens, and witchcraft, ready to see the ghosts of the slain, all the more so because they were stained with every crime, then committed so freely under the black flag. he had many advantages, too. he was a master of woodcraft, only their wilderness was that of the waters.
he gave forth the long, melancholy hoot of the owl, and he did it so well that he was surprised at his own skill. the note, full of desolation and menace, seemed to come back in many echoes. he saw the swart leader and the men with him start and look fearfully toward the forest that curved so near. then he saw them talking together and gazing at the point from which the sound had come. perhaps they were trying to persuade themselves the note was only fancy.
robert laughed softly to himself. he was pleased, immensely pleased with his experiment. his fantastic mood grew. he was a spirit of the woods himself; one of those old fauns of the greeks, and he was really there to punish the evil invaders of his island. his body seemed to grow light with his spirit and he slid away among the trees with astonishing ease, as sure of foot and as noiseless as tayoga himself. then the owl gave forth his long, lonely cry with increased volume and fervor. it was a note filled with complaint and mourning, and it told of the desolation that overspread a desolate world.
robert knew now that the leader and his men were disturbed. he could tell it by the anxious way in which they watched the woods, and, gliding farther around the[pg 171] circle, he sent forth the cry a third time. he was quite sure that he had made a further increase in its desolation and menace, and he saw the swart leader and his men draw together as if they were afraid.
the owl was not the only trick in robert's trade. his ambition took a wide sweep and fancy was fertile. he had aroused in these men the fear of the supernatural, a dread that the ghosts of those whom they had murdered had come back to haunt or punish them. he had been an apt pupil of tayoga before the slaver came to albany, and now he meant to show the ruffians that the owl was not the only spirit of fate hovering over them.
the deep growl of a bear came from the thicket, not the growl of an ordinary black bear, comedian of the forest, but the angry rumble of some great ursine beast of which the black bear was only a dwarf cousin. then he moved swiftly to another point and repeated it.
he heard the leader cursing and trying to calm the fears of the men while it was evident that his own too were aroused. the fellow suddenly drew a pistol and fired a bullet into the forest. robert heard it cutting the leaves near him. but he merely lay down and laughed. his fantastic impulse was succeeding in more brilliant fashion than he had hoped.
imitating their leader, six or eight of the men snatched out pistols and fired at random into the woods. the cry of a panther, drawn out, long, full of ferocity and woe, plaintive on its last note, like the haunting lament of a woman, was their answer. he heard a gasp of fear from the men, but the leader, of stauncher stuff, cowed them with his curses.
robert moved back on his course, and then gave forth the shrill, fierce yelp of the hungry wolf, dying into an angry snarl. it was, perhaps, a more menacing note[pg 172] than that of the larger animals, and he plainly saw the ruffians shiver. he was creating in them the state of mind that he wanted, and his spirits flamed yet higher. all things seemed possible to him in his present mood.
he moved once more and then lay flat in the dense bushes. he fancied that the pirates would presently fire another volley into the shadows, and, in a moment of desperate courage, might even come into the forest. his first thought was correct, as the leader told off the steadier men, and, walking up and down in front of the forest, they raked it for a considerable distance with pistol shots. all of them, of course, passed well over robert's head, and as soon as they finished he went back to his beginnings, giving forth the owl's lament.
he heard the leader curse more fiercely than ever before, and he saw several of the men who had been pulling trigger retreat to the fire. it was evident to him that the terror of the thing was entering their souls. the night itself, as if admiring his plan, was lending him the greatest possible aid. the crimson lightning never ceased to quiver and the sullen rumble of the distant thunder was increasing. it was easy enough for men, a natural prey to superstition, and, with the memories of many crimes, to believe that the island was haunted, that the ghosts of those they had slain were riding the lightning, and that demons, taking the forms of animals, were waiting for them in the bushes.
but the swart leader was a man of courage and he still held his ruffians together. he cursed them fiercely, told them to stand firm, to reload their pistols and to be ready for any danger. those who still slumbered by the fire were kicked until they awoke, and, with something of a commander's skill, the man drew up his besotted[pg 173] band against the mystic dangers that threatened so closely.
but robert produced a new menace. he was like one inspired that night. the dramatic always appealed to him and his success stimulated him to new histrionic efforts. he had planted in their minds the terror of animals, now he would sow the yet greater terror of human beings, knowing well that man's worst and most dreaded enemy was man.
he uttered a deep groan, a penetrating, terrible groan, the wail of a soul condemned to wander between the here and the hereafter, a cry from one who had been murdered, a cry that would doubtless appeal to every one of the ruffians as the cry of his own particular victim. the effect was startling. the men uttered a yell of fright, and started in a panic run for the boats, but the leader threatened them with his leveled pistol and stopped them, although the frightful groan came a second time.
"there's nothing in the bush!" robert heard him say. "there can't be! the place has no people and we know there are no big wild animals on the islands in these seas! it's some freak of the wind playing tricks with us!"
he held his men, though they were still frightened, and to encourage them and to prove that no enemy, natural or supernatural, was near, he plunged suddenly into the bushes to see the origin of the terrifying sounds. his action was wholly unexpected, and chance brought him to the very point where robert was. the lad leaped to his feet and the pirate sprang back aghast, thinking perhaps that he had come face to face with a ghost. then with a snarl of malignant anger he leveled the pistol that he held in his hand. but robert struck in[pg 174]stantly with his clubbed rifle, and his instinctive impulse was so great that he smote with tremendous force. the man was caught full and fair on the head, and, reeling back from the edge of the bushes in which they stood, fell dead in the open, where all his men could see.
it was enough. the demons, the ghosts that haunted them for their crimes, were not very vocal, but they struck with fearful power. they had smitten down the man who tried to keep them on their island, and they were not going to stay one second longer. there was a combined yell of horror, the rush of frightened feet, and, reaching their boats, they rowed with all speed for the schooner, leaving behind them the body of their dead comrade.
robert, awed a little by his own success in demonology, watched until they climbed on board the ship, drawing the boats after them. then they hoisted the anchor, made sail, and presently he saw the schooner tacking in the wind, obviously intending to leave in all haste that terrible place.
she became a ghost ship, a companion to the flying dutchman, outlined in red by the crimson lightning that still played at swift intervals. now she turned to the color of blood, and the sea on which she swam was a sea of blood. robert watched her until at last, a dim, red haze, she passed out of sight. then he turned and looked at the body of the man whom he had slain.
he shuddered. he had never intended to take the leader's life. five minutes before it occurred he would have said such a thing was impossible. it was merely the powerful impulse of self-protection that had caused him to strike with such deadly effect, and he was sorry. the man, beyond all doubt, was a robber and murderer who had forfeited his life a dozen times, and still he was[pg 175] sorry. it was a tragedy to him to take the life of any one, no matter how evil the fallen might be.
he went back to the house, brought a shovel, one of the numerous ship's stores, and buried the body at once high up the beach where the greatest waves could not reach it and wash it away. he did his task to the rumble of thunder and the flash of lightning, but, when he finished it, dawn came and then the storm that had threatened but that had never burst passed away. he felt, though, that it had not menaced him. to him it was a good storm, kindly and protecting, and giving sufficient help in his purpose that had succeeded so well.
it was a beautiful day, the air crisp with as much winter as the island ever knew, and shot with the beams from a brilliant sun, but robert was exhausted. he had passed through a night of intense emotions, various, every one of them poignant, and he had made physical and mental efforts of his own that fairly consumed the nerves. he felt as if he could lie down and sleep for a year, that it would take at least that long to build up his body and mind as they were yesterday.
he dragged himself through the woods, forced his unwilling muscles to cook a breakfast which he ate. then he laid himself down on his bed, his nerves now quiet, and fell asleep at once. when he awoke it was night and he lay giving thanks for his great escape until he slept again. when he awoke a second time day had returned, and, rising, he went about his usual tasks with a light heart.