Spice and the Devil's Cave (12 page)

A quick little cry broke from the Girl. “You were on the big ship, both of you? … So was I!”

Out of the bedlam that followed, Nicolo recalled only one thing: the Girl's question had included both him and Scander – but she had looked only at him.

“But from the
Sultana
to the
Venezia
?” Ferdinand asked her. “How did you manage that?”

“All I knew was that I must get away from the
Sultana!
I ran through the fighting and the noise, and I got across to the
Venezia
. I'd pushed my hair under the coat, and no one seemed to notice me. At first I hid behind some rope. Then I noticed a ladder leading below, and when it was dark, I crept out and slid down it. I could feel boxes and cases, and I could hear the water so plainly that I knew I was in the bottom of the ship. I don't know how long I stayed there.”

“It was several days before we docked at Lisbon,” Nicolo quietly said.

Ruth's hands flew up in consternation. “And you had nothing to eat, child?” she cried. “No wonder warm milk tasted good to you, that first night! Do you remember?”

“I shall never forget it,” the Girl said, fervently. “There were some barrels of water, and I used to steal out and drink, when no one was about. But what was I going to do when the cargo was moved? That was all I could think of. What if – those – men – on the
Sultana
should find me again?”

“Didn't you know?” Scander broke in. “The
Ve-nezia's
men scuttled the
Sultana!
She went down like a pup with a stone ‘round its neck!”

There was a long sigh of relief from the Girl; then, “And Abdul –”

Scander's tone was dubious. “Wish I could say as much for him and his crew, but –”

“You don't mean they were too quick for you?” Ferdinand exclaimed.

“Wait till you see those pirates in action, young fellow,” countered Scander. “They take the edge off a streak of lightning. Isn't that so? “he demanded of Nicolo.” Besides, there was a plenty to do, without chasing them, what with nursing the
San Marco
along to Malaga, and a storm coming up, and all. Well,” picking up the Girl's story, “when the ship docked?”

There was a quick gleam behind the dark eyelashes. “I was part of the cargo –
then!”
she announced. “I was a barrel of sugar!”

“Sugar!” Nicolo repeated. “Sugar!” He looked hard at Ferdinand.

Ferdinand was staring back. “By Saint Vincent – that ‘short' barrel!” He whirled on Abel. “Do you remember, Master Abel, Aunt Ruth, my telling you of the row on the quay about the shipment of sugar?”

“The time you were trying to find a clue to this child?” “exclaimed Abel.

“Yes! When the merchant who'd bought the sugar was threatening trouble for the
Venezia's
captain, and Nicolo paid –” He checked himself awkwardly at a sign from Nicolo, but not before the Girl had caught at the word.

“Paid? “she repeated, while the colour mounted to her forehead.

“How did you make room for yourself in the barrel?” Nicolo hastily interposed.

She made no answer at once, but her puzzled eyes searched his. “I scattered the sugar here and there,” she said at last, “where it wouldn't be noticed. The hardest thing was to knock the top in. I was so afraid I'd be heard.”

“You managed that, child – with those hands?” cried Abel. He unclasped them from where they lay clasped on her knees, and measured their slenderness on his own broad palm.

She smiled faintly. “It wasn't easy,” she admitted, “but I found a piece of iron. Besides, that was nothing to what I had to think of: how to get ashore, without being seen.”

“There!” Ferdinand exploded. “That's what I've been waiting for!”

“At first,” she went on, “I thought I could be taken off in the barrel, with the rest of the cargo. I thought I could somehow pull the head in, after I was inside, but –”

“You poor waif,” Diaz interrupted her, “didn't the risk of that occur to you? Freight piled on top of you, for instance?”

She regarded him for a long moment. “Nothing seemed a risk after Aden, or the
Sultana!”

An impatient movement from Ferdinand roused her. “But when the
Venezia
began to unload?” he reminded her.

“As soon as I felt the ship stop, I knew they would unload, and I got into the barrel. I tried and tried to put the head in, but I couldn't!”'

“Of course you couldn't,” Abel murmured, pityingly, “Nor anyone else – from the inside.”

“Then I heard them begin to move things in the hold, and I knew that unloading had begun. I was frightened, oh, frightened!” The delicate ivory face contracted with the terror of the memory. “I saw that all I could do was to hide as far back as possible in the hold. And I kept hoping that before they got to me, something would happen. By and by the noise died away, and everything was quiet, and I was sure it must be night.”

“Yes!” Nicolo exclaimed. “That was it. We had to stop at dark.”

Even in the hushed suspense of the room, the Girl's voice was a whisper. “I waited. Then, I felt my way forward and, all at once, I looked up-and there were the stars!”

“Yes,” Nicolo said, again. “They'd left the hatches open.”

“I climbed over the cargo,” the low voice went on, “to a rope that was hanging from above, and, finally, I pulled myself up by it to the deck.”

There was a low exclamation from Ferdinand, and his sombre eyes, fixed on the Girl, were very soft. “That was why your palms . . . that first night . . .”

“Ah,” Ruth murmured, “do you remember how bruised and bleeding they were?”

The Girl contemplated her hands. “I didn't notice, then, how I'd torn them” she said, reminiscently. “I was too afraid someone would see me. But I remember, when I got up on deck, I crouched down behind something, and wiped them on my coat. For a long time I waited there, and listened. It was very quiet, and no one seemed to be about, so I crept along behind a row of barrels, and, at the last one, I saw a plank between the ship and the dock. I went across, but after that I can't remember – my head was so dizzy. But at last, I found myself climbing stairs, climbing, climbing. . . . And then – I saw a light!” She caught her breath sharply. “There was never anything quite so beautiful as that light – and Master Abel's face!” Her voice broke pitifully. “I wanted to stay here, always, until – until I heard you and Ferdinand say those dreadful names.”

“What names?” Ferdinand began in a puzzled way, while a quick glance shot between Ruth and Abel.

Very gently, Ruth put her arm around the Girl. “My child, can't you trust us enough now to tell us everything?”

“I did trust you,” she faltered, “but when I heard them talking of those places on that map – I was afraid. Afraid! I didn't dare to stay here, for if my father had never gone down to-to the Devil's Cave and Sofala –”

“What?” cried Diaz.
“Sofala-oi
which Covilham sent us word?”

The Girl turned amazed eyes on him. “Covilham? Pedro de Covilham? Why, he was my father's friend!”

CHAPTER 10

Nejmi

I
N
the stunned silence the faces around the table stared at the Girl, and then at each other. Their ears had heard her; but their minds still groped for her meaning.

At last: “Covilham was your father's friend?”

Diaz' gruff voice was so shaken that, involuntarily, the others glanced at him. He, himself, was oblivious of anyone except the Girl-but on her his whole rugged self was focused.

“Yes, my father's friend” She waited, looking from him to the others. “Why? “she asked, timidly. “What of that?”

“Nothing – nothing,” he murmured, “or perhaps – everything!”

He rose from the table and went to her, and, as if in reverent acknowledgment that this moment was his own, the others drew aside for him.

“Child, will you tell me about – about him? All that you can remember?”

The very room held its breath for her first, quiet words:

“He came to our house in Aden, I don't remember how long ago, but when I was a little thing, and he and my father talked a great deal together in a strange language. I couldn't understand what they said, for my father always spoke Arabic with us. You see, my mother was an Arab.

“After Covilham went away, my father kept saying to my mother,‘ If he finds what he expects, I shall build warehouses down there.' By and by, he got a letter. He rushed to us with it. He was more excited than I'd ever seen him. ‘Covilham has been to Sofala, and he says what he hoped is true,' he told my mother. ‘Think of the business that it will bring me!'”

A strange sound from Diaz interrupted her. His breath was coming fast, and the pupils of his eyes were dilated.

She studied him a moment. “That was the way my father looked, when he got that letter – his eyes on fire, like yours.”

A little impatiently he motioned her to go on.

“One day I heard him say, ‘I must go and see for myself.' And he did go, in a ship. It was a long time before he got home, and my mother was frightened about him. When he came back, he was grave and quiet. He said he would need a great deal of money because he was going to build a warehouse at “-her voice suddenly sank-” at Sofala.”

At the familiar name, Ferdinand impetuously leaned forward, as if to speak.

“Let her tell her story!” Diaz sternly ordered him, without taking his eyes from the Girl.

“My mother kept begging him to stay in Aden, and at last he said, ‘In a short time everything is going to be changed. The Franj are going to take trade away from Aden.' ‘What makes you think they will come?' she asked him. I remember that he didn't answer for some time, and at last he said, very low,
'
They have already come! Their ship was seen some time ago by the natives.'”

“There! What'd I tell you?” the sailor broke in.

“Then he said that a native pilot had sailed with him from Sofala to a place, near the Devil's Cave, where there were two white stones with Franj writing.”

“Name of heaven!” Diaz sprang to his feet, seized her arm. “‘Sailed,' did you say?” he cried. “Are you sure he told you, ‘
sailed'
from Sofala to the Devil's Cave?”

Half fearfully she stared at him. “That was what he said.”

He sank back, breathing like a man at the end of a race. Slowly the hand which had been on the Girl's arm went to his forehead in a sailor's salute, and they heard him murmur “Thy dream . . . Great Navigator!”

He glanced up, as if for the first time he remembered the others, and his gaze rested on each face in turn. “This child,” he solemnly said, “has answered the question that all Europe is asking.”

“She is the Way of the Spices!” cried Abel.

“And Covilham was right! Covilham was right!” shouted Ferdinand. In his excitement he had leaped on his chair, and was wildly swinging his arms. “The old fellow knew what he was about – just as I always said he did!”

The men burst into a furor of talk, of questions, of speculation. They had hoped and dreamed so long that, now reality had come, they hardly dared believe it.

The Girl surveyed the commotion with puzzled eyes. “Why do you care so much? That little bit between Sofala and the Devil's Cave – what of it?”

In the complete hush that followed this astounding innocence, Ruth raised a triumphant voice: “There! That's what I've been asking for the last ten years, and you all thought I was stupid!”

There was an uproar of laughter, and everyone was volunteering explanations to the Girl, when Abel put them all aside.

“There's only one way to make her understand,” and, diving into the table-drawer, he brought out a map.

But no sooner did she see what he was about, than she shrank away from him, her eyes full of dread. As it happened, no one noticed her but Abel and Nicolo. Nicolo was already starting toward her with that overwhelming impulse of protection which her fright roused in him, when he heard Abel murmur, “My poor child, forgive me! I didn't think.”

“Wait, Zakuto!” Diaz reached out for the map that Abel was hurrying back to the drawer, spread it on the table, and for several moments studied it. Finally, his finger rested on a certain spot. “Those ‘white stones,' of which this child says her father told, are-or were-here.”

“I saw them go aboard when you set out from Lisbon, sir!” Gama broke in.

“So did I!” rejoined Abel. “Don't you recollect, Bartholomew, our watching the men cut the King's name and yours on them?”

Diaz' eyes glistened. “The last thing, just before we put about for home,” he said, in a moved voice, “d'Alemquer and I, and one or two others, set those two pillars up as near as we could to the big Cape – the Devil's Cave, as you call it.”