CHAPTER XVIII

The Lone Hut—The Torture!

Return we now to Monteagle. The ruthless gang of fellows who had made him prisoner rode on in almost total silence over the vast treeless, shrubless, sand bank which lies between the bluff headlands and the little laguna, where the pig-eyed votaries of Confucius perform the scrubbing, dipping and pounding of linen, dignified with the misnomer of _washing_. As if anything immersed in that chocolate-hued fluid could emerge purer than it entered. Skirting the shore of the laguna, the party soon reached a tolerably good road. This they followed for about half a mile. One of the party riding some distance in advance in order to give notice of the approach of any unwelcome intruder. No person appeared, however, to interfere with their plans and they soon struck off into the sand hills, where their persons were hidden from view by the scrub oaks and wild lilac bushes that covered these lonely spots, since dotted with neat little cottages and smiling gardens. Heaven grant that they may ever be the abode of prosperity and happiness, as they have always been of open-hearted hospitality.

Half an hour’s more riding brought them to the place of their destination. It was a rude hut or cabin, such as ‘squatters’ put up when taking possession—peaceably if they can, forcibly if they must. This hut was erected at the bottom of a deep dell, surrounded on all sides by hills so abrupt that they were forced to leave the horses tied above, while they made the descent on foot.

Both externally and internally this looked like the ordinary abode of a new settler. But no sooner had the gang entered with their prisoner, than a light was procured, and one of the party, moving a mattress, lifted a trap door that gave entrance to a subterraneous apartment of some extent. It was probably a natural cavern, the entrance to which had been accidentally discovered by these desperadoes. Its isolated situation suggested its usefulness to them as a secret place of rendezvous, and a receptacle for plunder. One of them had accordingly squatted on the place and put up the hut.

Monteagle was handed down into this apartment, his eyes still blindfolded—but the close, damp air informed his senses that he was in an underground apartment of some kind. The more he reflected the more he became mystified in his endeavors to ascertain the motives that had prompted these ruffians to take him prisoner in this most unaccountable manner. He had recognized the voice of the man called ‘Jimmy’ as that of the villian found asleep in Vandewater’s store, and who had been arrested for murder, and afterwards escaped from justice. But this discovery did not explain why he had been thus kidnapped. His suspense was, however, soon ended, as shall presently be shown.

The cavern was of large dimensions, yet was more than half filled with silks, broadcloths, laces, and velvets of the costliest descriptions piled promiscuously together. Upon these heaps lay goblets, salvers and ladles of gold and silver ware, some showing signs of use, but most appearing bright and untarnished as when they glittered on the jeweller’s shelves. These things were evidently the result of successful robberies and explained why the neighboring city had been swept by so many conflagrations.

In one corner of the cavern a small, thin, sharp-visaged man bent over a large crucible, the flickering flames beneath which shed a red glow upon his swarthy, anxious countenance. At the first glance this individual might have been mistaken for one of those alchemists who, in the dark ages, sought to transmute the baser metals into gold, or discover an elixir that would give to mortal man eternal vigor and immortal youth. He of the crucible was engaged in no such visionary employment. Beside him stood dies and other mechanical contrivances for the manufacture of coin, while a large box full of glittering ‘octagons’ showed that he was busy ‘augmenting the currency,’ by fabricating spurious ‘slugs.’

Monteagle now once more demanded the cause of his detention.

‘Your employer, Vandewater, lately sold a vessel on account of a New York merchant, for thirty thousand dollars, which sum he received in gold. That money was placed in your safe—’

‘Then you are the robbers!’

‘Silence, and listen! When we opened the safe, it only held a few thousands belonging to the firm. You know where the thirty thousand is placed. Inform us, and you shall be liberated, and if we obtain the money, you shall have five thousand dollars for your share.’

‘I’ll die first,’ indignantly cried Monteagle.

‘No—you’ll confess first, and maybe die soon after,’ said a voice which Monteagle to his surprise and joy recognized as that of Blodget.

‘What, Blodget, my friend, you here? Then this is all a joke. But it has been carried much too far,’ said Monteagle, his cheek flushing as he thought of the violence he had been subjected to.

‘If it’s a joke, youngster, you’ll think its a d—d poor one before we get through with it. But enough of this fooling! Tell where the money’s to be found, or by h-ll we’ll make you!’

‘Never—so help me heaven!’ said Monteagle, determinedly.

‘Just hand me that little vice,’ said Blodget, in a cool, business-like, tone.

‘Is it this?’ said Jimmy, bringing over a small, portable iron vice, from among the tools by the furnace.

‘That’s right,’ said Blodget. ‘Now, lads, hold him fast.’ Monteagle was suddenly prostrated upon the damp floor, and firmly held there by the ruffians, although he put forth lion-like strength in his struggles to shake off his enemies. ‘Now, then, we’ll try his nerves,’ said Blodget, and immediately proceeded to adjust the vice on one of Monteagle’s thumbs. ‘Will you tell where the money can be found?’ said Blodget.

Monteagle made no reply.

Blodget gave the vice a couple of turns but Monteagle gave no signs of feeling except an involuntary shudder and a heavy sigh.

Again his heartless tormentor gave the vice a turn. Still the brave youth remained silent, although the pain was fearful, and he could feel the hot blood gushing from under his nail.

‘Knock out the stubborn divil’s brains,’ cried Jimmy, waxing impatient at the delay.

‘Keep cool, Jimmy,’ said Blodget. ‘It is money we want, not brains.’

Another turn of the vice—but Monteagle, save by a low, involuntary groan, gave no token of the agony he suffered.

‘Curse the fellow, it’s as hard to extract gold from him as to crush it out of quartz rocks. He’s so devilish stubborn, I see he will die, as he says, before he’ll tell where the gold is placed. Now, boys, what’s to be done?’ continued Blodget, looking around inquiringly into the villainous faces of his companions.

They were all silent, for some seconds. At length the man that we have described as being employed over the furnace, broke silence, saying, ‘Let me manage him, and I’ll promise to make him tell, not only where we may find this gold, but reveal far weightier secrets, if such he knows.’

‘Go a-head! Signor Maretzo,’ said Blodget, ‘but remember that we have no racks and wheels, or any of those other ingenious contrivances so common in your precious country.’

‘My country is what tyrants and priests have made it;’ returned the Italian. ‘Even the accursed act I am now about to practice I learned in the dungeons of the _holy_ inquisition. There my heart was turned to marble, and every drop of pity congealed forever.’

‘Let the blessid church alone, or you and me’ll have a row, old black-beard,’ said Jimmy, quite fiercely.

‘That ‘Sazerac’ brandy has awakened Jimmy’s religious feelings. But, come, come—there’s been too much of this fooling. Maretzo, if you can make this stubborn devil talk, do so at once!’

Maretzo made some arrangements about his furnace, and joined the party gathered around Monteagle—who still lay, bound and blind-folded, upon the dungeon floor.

The Italian then took up a piece of linen from one of the piles of dry goods, and placed it smoothly and tightly over Monteagle’s lips and nostrils. He then took a glass of water, and poured a few drops upon the linen. The poor youth could draw breath with difficulty through the dry linen, but when its threads became swollen by absorbing the water his respiration was almost entirely prevented. His breast heaved by involuntary muscular expansion—great drops of sweat started from every pore, while the veins of his neck and forehead grew swollen and purple. It required the united force of all the scoundrels that surrounded him to retain his writhing body on the earth.

Poor Monteagle’s convulsive and spasmodic efforts, however, soon subsided, and it appeared as if his tormentors had gone too far, and that death had stepped in and snatched their helpless victim from further cruelties.

Maretzo removed the cloth, and after a few heavy and painful attempts at breathing, Monteagle’s low groans and sighs told how dreadful had been his sufferings.

‘Now, G—d d—n your stubborn soul will you tell us where to find the money,’ said Blodget.

Heavy, deep-drawn sighs, were the poor youth’s sole reply.

‘Give him another dose,’ said one of the heartless ruffians, ‘he likes the medicine so well.’

At this instant the trap door was lifted, and one of the gang, who had been stationed on the neighboring hill as a look-out, cried:

‘I see a party of horsemen making right for the hut, at full gallop. We must have been followed. Let’s be off, at once, or we’re sure to be taken!’

‘Sure an’ let’s have a brush wid ’em,’ said Jimmy.

‘Never fight till you’re obliged to,’ said Blodget.

‘Lay hold of this fellow,’ said Maretzo, ‘and carry him to a horse, then let’s all start down towards the Heads. I know of a cave there, that has never had any dwellers except seals. There we can keep this youth, and wring the secret from him, or, failing that, put him where he’ll tell no tales.’

No more words were wasted; this striking the whole party as the best plan they could pursue under the circumstances. Accordingly, a couple of men seized hold of Monteagle, and bore him up the stairs, through the hut, and then to the summit of the acclivity where the horses were tethered. The rest of the party followed, bearing with them all the most valuable and portable articles they could get hold of in their haste.

By the time the whole gang were in the saddle and ready for a start, the approaching party of riders had got to within a quarter of a mile of the hut. They were coming from the direction of the Mission.

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