CHAPTER XVI.
THE GREEN LIGHT UPON THE SEA.
Jacob was on his feet in a moment. His eyes were dazed by a strange pale-green light that shone luminous over the boat's larboard bow. The sea was calm, with only a gentle swell rolling from the east; the sky was black and starless, and all was dark around saving only in the one direction where shone the ghostly green light, that reared itself like a cloud of radiant mist out of the sea, only a few yards from where he stood.
Even as he gazed upon it, bewildered and speechless, the light seemed to approach, or else it was the boat that sailed into the luminance. It shed its ghastly green glare upon everything, making all on board as plain as though the craft were bathed in soft moonlight. All was as green as grass. Webbe, Timothy, and Gilbert stood staring about them like phantoms, silently glancing at one another with the emotions of men who had been suddenly hurried into another world. Their faces, their clothing, even their hair was green, and it seemed that the mysterious light had deprived them of speech, for none spoke.
Timothy Trollope, who had been at the helm, had suddenly ceased to pay any regard to the steering, and now the boat's sail swayed idly to and fro, empty of wind. Gilbert Oglander, regaining his sober senses, looked over the side to search for the origin of the strange radiance. But there was no flame to the light, which seemed to be a mere transparent shaft of air, as unsubstantial as a rainbow. And when he turned to see if Jacob Hartop were yet awake, and found the old man at his side, he implored an explanation of the mystery.
"What means it, Master Hartop?" he asked in an awe-stricken voice. "Hast seen its like ever before?"
But the old buccaneer made no answer. Clambering over the coaming of the well, he crept on hands and knees towards the bow near where Gilbert stood. He peered out into the light, gripping the gunwale with trembling hands. He remained thus for many moments. Then suddenly he drew back, flung his left arm round Gilbert's legs, and with a wild, frantic cry upon his lips pointed out with his skinny right hand into the midst of the green light.
"See! see!" he cried. "It is a ship!"
Gilbert's eyes followed the direction in which the old man pointed, and presently he discovered, at the farther fringe of the light, the towering form of a vessel's hull. He could clearly see her stern port-holes, with the gallery above them, and above the gallery the projecting rail of her poop-deck. Her counter was richly carved with many strange devices, and the carvings were covered with tarnished gold. Her stout masts rose high above her, and her ragged sails were ample evidence that it was long since the ship had known their use.
"Can you not see her?" continued Hartop. "Od's life, boy! Look where I point."
"I see her, Master Hartop," returned Gilbert; "I see her. 'Tis a galleon, and a Spaniard by her build."
"Ay, faith, a galleon indeed," nodded Hartop; "and a galleon upon which mine eyes now look not for the first time, if she be not a ghost!" He rose to his feet, still keeping his arm about Gilbert, and added in a strange, dry voice that was scarcely more than a breath: "'Tis a ghost, Master Oglander, 'tis a ghost that you look upon--the ghost of the Golden Galleon!"
And so saying, he turned from the sight and sank upon the narrow deck, covering his face with his hands.
By this time Timothy Trollope also had seen the galleon. Clasping the tiller, he held it over. But it had no effect, for the pinnace had no way upon her; the wind had fallen to an absolute calm, and the sail hung loose and motionless against the mast.
"Out with the sweeps!" cried Edward Webbe, and Timothy, leaving his post, took up one of the long oars, while Gilbert Oglander took the other, and together they pulled and pulled, striving to bring the boat round and so escape from the grim phantom galleon. But with the first stroke they made their oar-blades caught in a mesh of sea-weeds. The disturbed water flashed with phosphorescent fire, and when the oars were with difficulty dragged up they rose dripping with a shower of sparks and heavy with clinging weeds. Again the oars were dipped, and again they were weighted with the tangled growth of weeds.
"'Tis of no avail, Tim," declared Gilbert as he drew in his oar. He leaned over the boat's side and looked down into the calm, shadowy water, where fitful tracks of shining white light showed the movements of coiling writhing monsters of the deep.
"Nay, pull at your oars!" cried Jacob Hartop, rising now from the deck and slipping down into the well. "Let us not be carried nearer to that horrid ship! Dip not your blades so deep, but pull her round that we may get beyond this phantom light. Here, Ned," he added to Webbe, "take thou a hand of Timothy's oar, while I give a help to Gilbert. 'Twill go ill if four of us cannot move her. Robin, my lad, get thee to the tiller and steer us back into the darkness."
He looked aft to where Robin stood and saw the lad obediently approach the tiller, while he himself pulled at Gilbert's oar. The boat began to move, but scarcely had a second stroke of the oars been made when a frantic scream came from Robin Redfern, and the lad, starting forward, plunged himself headlong into the midst of his companions.
"In heaven's name, what hath bewitched the lad?" cried Hartop. He abandoned the oar and bent down to pick Robin up, and felt him trembling in every limb. The boy was comforted by the touch of human hands, but he positively refused to return to the helm.
"I cannot, I cannot!" he cried.
"Take you the oar, then, Robin," said Timothy, "while I go."
But Timothy, bold though he was, came back even more quickly than Robin had done, with his face transfixed with terror.
"Look! look!" he stammered, pointing with fearful eagerness to the boat's stern.
All turned their gaze towards the tiller, and saw something which might well fill them with dread. A long flesh-like arm, half-pink half-green, was gliding slowly over the gunwale, with the movements of a huge caterpillar. Its farther end was not visible at first, but Gilbert Oglander, glancing over into the water, traced the thing for many yards to where it was rooted in a great green shining body midway between the boat and the galleon. The body was furnished with two great glaring eyes as large as plates. From near the eyes some eight or nine other arms or tentacles were stretched forth, some lying inactive on the water's surface, others poised in the green air, with rows of immense sucking discs on their under side; and two of them had climbed up the galleon's hull and were entwined about her like a pair of giant serpents. All this Gilbert perceived in a momentary glance. But he told naught of the matter to his mates. Going down on his hands and knees in the boat's well he crept to one of the little lockers that were under the side-seats. He pulled open the door, thrust in his arm end brought out two swords, and flung one of them to Timothy.
"Here, Tim, quick!" he cried. "For the love of heaven cut the thing in twain!"
Then again thrusting his arm into the locker he brought out an axe, which he gripped in his hand. Springing aft to the stern, he then began to hew at the monstrous arm at the part which was lying across the gunwale. Timothy got to the other side, and in like manner struck with all his might at the creature. Stroke after stroke of sword and axe fell upon the writhing thing.
Suddenly the boat swayed over, the sail drew wind, and as suddenly the mysterious green light flickered, faded, flickered again, and then faded into utter darkness. There was a faint splash under the stern.
"'Tis done!" shouted Timothy, stamping his heel on the severed portion of the monster's arm as it lay across the deck. "Give us a hand here, Master Webbe, and help us to heave this thing overboard. Touch it not but with your boot, lest it sting you with its poison. Now, all together!"
"Down with the helm!" cried Hartop, himself springing to the tiller. And then, as the remnant of the animal's tentacle was plunged into the sea, the pinnace moved slowly onward over the darkened waters, and the little crew breathed in thankful freedom. Yet a strange superstitious terror had seized upon them, and for a long time no word was spoken and no sound heard but the creaking of the ropes, the light bubbling of the water at the bow, and the intermittent sobbing of young Robin Redfern. They yearned for the coming of daylight, and dreaded every moment that the eerie green light might again surround them. Again and again Jacob Hartop as he sat at the tiller glanced furtively behind him, as if to assure himself that he was not being pursued by what he firmly believed to be the phantom of his lost ship. Timothy Trollope, too, whose simple and untutored mind had yielded to the same superstitious fear that was oppressing the skipper, stood up time after time and, rubbing his eyes, glanced backward across the sea. Gilbert Oglander had but an uneasy sleep, while Webbe, who sat with his legs outstretched before him and his back firmly planted against the boat's side-planks, refused to close his eyes. The only one who slept peacefully was Robin, who had literally cried himself to sleep.
At last, in the eastern sky there appeared the faint gray gleam of coming dawn. The welcome light crept over sky and sea. The men could now see each other's pale and troubled faces, and then, for the first time since the mysterious green radiance had vanished, Jacob Hartop spoke.
"It hath been a most merciful escape," said he, "a most merciful deliverance. The Lord be thanked!"
"Ay, the Lord be thanked!" murmured Edward Webbe.
The two old men had been feasting their eyes on the dawn-light over in the east. But Gilbert Oglander, who now rose to his feet and faced the westward, gave a slight start and quietly placed his hand on Hartop's shoulder.
"The galleon is still in sight, Master Hartop," said he.
"Ay," echoed Timothy Trollope, "she is still in sight."
Slowly and deliberately Jacob turned his head. His hand lost its hold of the tiller. Slowly he looked back again at his companions.
"What means it?" he muttered hoarsely through his dry, parched lips. His face was ashen gray and woefully haggard. He seemed to have aged a score of years since the last evening. "What means it?" he repeated dryly.
"It seemeth to me," said Gilbert, "that your golden galleon is no ghost after all, but a veritable floating ship."
"Said you not that she was loaded with Spanish treasure, Master Hartop?" questioned Timothy.
Jacob nodded.
"As full laden as ever ship could be," he answered.
"And wilt thou leave her there, where she is, to drift at random on the wide sea, to rot upon the water, and to go down at last to bestow her treasure upon the mermaids? I pray thee, let us go back to her, that we may bring away with us some of the gold whereof thou hast spoken."
"What!" cried Hartop, fixing his glassy eyes in astonishment upon the bold lad.
"'Tis daylight now," pursued Tim. "Mark how the coming sunlight spreads across the sky. Mark how its bright reflection gleams upon your galleon's golden hull. Why need we fear to approach her, ay, or even to board her, in the broad light of day?"
Hartop shook his head in grave rebuke.
"Thou'rt over bold, Master Timothy," said he. "The ship were a wealthy prize, I will allow. But I would have thee know that 'twas not to ransack drifting derelicts that we came out upon this voyage, but in quest of King Philip's plate fleet. Having failed to discover the fleet in our allotted time, we shall now return to Queen Elizabeth's ships at Flores and inform Her Majesty's admiral of the result of our quest. As for the golden galleon, let her rot, let her sink, say I. Let her treasures go down to the mermaids' halls, that the precious gems may bedeck the mermaids' necks withal. It will not be the first ship-load of Spanish doubloons that hath gone unto the depths for the children of the ocean to play with. And I say to you, were the galleon thrice her size, with thrice her present wealth aboard of her, I would not turn back a fathom's distance with the thought of entering her. And now," he added, "I pray you, just hitch me up another inch or two of the peak halliard there, while Gilbert doth set about preparing our breakfast."
And so they sailed back to Flores.