“’Twas a sound, a voice—but whether of man, or beast, or worse, we knew not; and it proceeded from the chasm; a sudden, loud, weird, shrieking sound that rose and scattered until the very wood seemed full of it, and died gradually away.

“Suddenly there leaped forth a figure. From the darkness of the cavity it came, and stood confronting us. ’Twas the figure of a little lad!

“But he was gaunt as a skeleton; and the great seaman’s watch-coat that he wore, hung about him like a sack, falling almost to the ground. His legs, appearing like sticks beneath the loosely fastened coat, were bare; and so, also, were his feet. But strangest of all in the look of the lad, was his face.

“’Twere impossible to describe it. Blithe, it was miserable; majestic, it was menial; wise, it was wild and witless as the face of an antic; haggard and deadly pale, the eyes roving continually, shining with a spectral light. The face of a little child. And yet, I tell you, it gave me a scare.

“The little lad stood looking upon us; then, lifting his hand with a strange eerie gesture, he cried:

“‘Welcome, ye pilgrims! Lo! lo! the Promised Land! Milk and honey! a land flowing with milk and honey! Eat of it! drink! sing!—sing for joy of it! The sun! the sun! see, ’tis red, red as the Red Sea! Aha, Pharaoh! Where is Pharaoh now? He strives to follow thee, O sun! Down! down! there’s sea enough.’

“So he raved in his frenzy, the crazy lad; but Ouvery, lumbering forward with a curse, took him with his clenched fist a great buffet on the head, so that he fell down like one dead. And Ouvery laughed, laughed! But not for long!

“A man burst forth from the thicket behind, and felled the great pirate as if he were a figure of pasteboard!

“’Twas an Indian—that same Mosquito Indian you took up with me from the boat. He consorted with the pirates; an innocent abetter of their devilish work, a malefactor in whom was no guile. For the Mosquito Indians do love and revere the English wheresoever they meet with them, honest mariners or pirates, making no discrimination; and are, for their part, much esteemed by them for their valour, their sagacity, their dexterity in striking fish, and the like.

“So they look upon our countrymen as lords and masters, and do their bidding with the simple faith of children.... Brave, honest, kindly souls! who knows not what eminent service they have done us in our conflict with that Spanish tyrant?[B]

“This Mosquito Indian loved the lad, whom he took for dead; and, crying aloud with a bitter cry, he cast himself upon the ground at his side, fawning upon him as a dog fawns upon the body of its master. But, on a sudden, he gave another cry. He perceived that the lad lived; and, getting swiftly to his feet, he caught him up, and sped off with him into the wood.

“Ouvery lay as one dead. They plied him with rum, forcing his teeth asunder to get the liquor down; they bathed his hands and brow with water fetched from a crystal spring. But ’twas all one: he gave no sign.

“‘Blazing Sue’s gone!’ said a pirate.

“But he did mistake. For, filling his mouth with water from the spring, another of the pirates began to blow it in a fine spray in Ouvery’s eyes and ears (’Tis a thing that revives even dying men); and he began to recover his senses, and presently staggered to his feet. When he recalled what had befallen him, his rage was great. Yet he kept it under; only he cast a baleful look upon us, as he pointed to the opening in the thicket and cried:

“‘Forward into the Promised Land!’

“You may be sure, my lad, that no man was very eager to obey the command. The chasm had a fearsome look. Whither did it lead?

“The terror of the unknown lay heavy on us. Yet in our reluctance and fear was an itch of curiosity; and, though an opportunity of escape and freedom had proffered then, I, at least, would not have taken it! Moreover the pistols of the guards constrained us; so we entered the chasm and advanced in the darkness.

“We went on through a passage, as it should seem, hewed out of rock. Soon the darkness became less; and soon, in a strange, livid, ghost light, we could descry the walls and roof. The passage was excavated in the rock.

“Now the strange illumination became exceeding bright; a cold, sepulchral, white light, such as I had never known before. Nor was there any lamp, or flame of fire, to acquaint us whence it came.

“There was no door visible, yet there was a door—indeed, many doors—very cunningly concealed in the wall; and now it opened with a clang of iron. Ouvery immediately commanded us to stand; and, bidding me, who was among the foremost, to follow him, he betook himself within. Obeying, I found myself in the strangest place I had ever known.” (Here there came a sound of tramping overhead, as if the men had been called to quarters. The Englishman took due notice, but did not break off in his relation.)

“It was a little cell, like the passage, hewed out of the rock, and about the size of a ship’s round-house. There was no furniture in it, save a table and a chair. Upon the table was a medley of things: scrolls of parchment scrawled over with hieroglyphics, triangles, and the like; books, pamphlets, maps, draughts, compasses, and I know not what besides. Beneath the table, in nooks and recesses contrived in the walls, were all manner of jars and phials, holding divers materials, both liquid and solid. Also globes, retorts, crucibles, alembics, mortars. At the farther end, beneath a brass clock, stood a large furnace.

“’Twas the chamber of a scholar, the cell of an alchemist; and in a great armchair at the table sat the man himself.

“He was a very ancient man, long and large of frame, but bowed and lean. He was dressed in a scarlet robe like a cardinal’s. His face, which was shaven bare, was fierce and forbidding, and heavy and ill-shapen in the lower parts; but his forehead was high and deep, and his hair fell in long venerable locks, white like snow. His eyes were large, but deep-sunk and dull. Yet, as I was soon to see, they could kindle in anger terribly, or become sharp and piercing like points of steel. And in the whole port and aspect of the man there was power; while thought brooded continually in the majestic wrinkles of his brow.

“He spoke at once, turning to Ouvery and clutching the sleeve of the man’s coat; and his voice was small and shrill like a woman’s.

“‘So,’ said he, ‘they are come, the pilgrim band, the little pilgrim band. You have brought them to labour with us in the vineyard—is’t not so, comrade? Thereafter they will join. ’Tis well. ’Tis very well. And my acid? You have brought my acid?’

“But at the words, I saw Ouvery start and turn deadly pale; and in a quavering voice he said:

“‘Doctor, forgive! I have forgot!’

“The hand that toyed with Ouvery’s sleeve closed on it like a vice; a spasm shook the ancient man, and left him rigid; the veins stood upon his forehead gathered in knots; his eyes started in their sockets.

“For many moments he looked on the man balefully, like a serpent. Then, uttering a frightful cry, he snatched up a globe of glass and cast it full at Ouvery’s head!

“It took him upon the forehead; and well was it for him that the glass was but thin, breaking to small pieces. Even so, you could see that the man was sorely hurt. But he gave no sign of pain, and I thought that the anger of the Doctor was more fearful to him than any pain, or rather, that it kept him from feeling pain at all. Only he kept repeating:

“‘Doctor, forgive! Doctor, forgive!’

“‘Forgive you, you dog!’ cried the ancient man. ‘Where is my acid? The jars are empty! Empty! empty! empty! empty!’ He sank back in his chair, gasping, great beads upon his brow; and Ouvery would have seized the occasion to flee. He leapt to the door.

“But no farther! for the Doctor looked on him. ‘What!’ cried he, his rasping voice coming in gasps, ‘would you ... would you give me the slip?’ And then, in a horrid coaxing tone, he added:

“‘Would you leave me, my child, whom I have loved? Would you leave me, after so long a severance? Yet who am I that I should hinder ye, or deny your smallest desire? Get you gone, child of my heart, get you gone—into the morass!’

“‘Mercy!’ cried Ouvery; ‘not there! Nay, not there!’

“The Doctor pointed to the door.

“Ouvery sank down upon the floor huddled in fear; and, villain though he was, I could not but have compassion for him then. But the Doctor only laughed, and he touched a little knob of brass that stood on the wall to his hand.

“Presently a young man, having a look of suffering upon his delicately shapen, shaven countenance, and habited in black in the manner of a secretary, came swiftly and softly into the cell, and stood before the Doctor, bowing almost to the ground.

“‘Ambrose, summon Sebastian, and ...’

“He broke off, seemed to consider; and, turning to Ouvery, he asked:

“‘And if I bore with you yet again?’

“‘Try me, Doctor! Put me to the proof; Only do not ...’

“‘Peace, fool! Ambrose, begone!’ (the young man instantly withdrew) ‘Ouvery, on the morrow you shall sail for England—but of that anon. Get you gone, and bring our new-come comrades to the slave Davies, charging him to see to it, that not a jot of care or tendance be omitted unto them. And tell him, moreover, that if the South Bulwark be not finished by the third day following, he shall pass through that door which I with all my knowledge and wit never have been able to unlock!’

“But Ouvery stood gazing on him after a vacant manner; and, rising from his chair in fury, the Doctor cried:

“‘Clod of earth, lacking understanding!—ah! take your cow’s eyes from me! Ambrose!’

“He touched the knob again, and, when the young man returned, ‘Expound to this clodpole,’ said the Doctor, ‘my saying, the door that hath no key!’

“Thereupon Ambrose turned to Ouvery; and, like one reciting a task, he said:

“‘No man is able to open it, but the dead pass through there. ’Tis the door of fate.’

“‘Good words, Ambrose,’ said the Doctor. ‘No man, indeed, is able to open that door. I myself have essayed, even to weariness, but I found no key.

“‘The secrets of the earth lie open to me; but the invisible——Ha! I saw a goodly vine; I ate of the fruit of it—knowledge, domination, gold—and it hath turned to ashes in my mouth! My heart was empty, and I sought to satisfy it—with hate; and the void is but increased!

“‘What, then, is hate? Is’t a mere nullity? the walling-in of the soul?

“‘Behold, now, this cell, a place walled off; I banish the light of it. So.’ (He touched a knob upon the wall, and instantly there was thick darkness.)

“‘Without is light—light of the sun; but not a ray thereof can enter here. No; but, if it be dark without, and I throw up walls, and roof them about, and stop up every nook and cranny, can I keep out the darkness, as now I do the light? No; for darkness is nothing. It cannot be shut out: only I make it to vanish with light. So.’ (And, on a sudden, the cell was flooded with bright light.)

“‘And as with light and darkness, is’t not so, also, with good and evil, love and hate? Ha! I see it! I see it! I know thy efficacy, Almighty Good! thou only real power, substance, and principle, Spirit, the One Spirit! With my intellect, in which the truth is dawning, I see it.... But thou comest not into this heart——’”

At this juncture, the Englishman’s relation was interrupted; a great gun was shot off on the poop overhead; and, while the ship yet shook with the reverberation, there came a great shout of cheering thrice repeated.

I sprang to my feet, and, on a nod from the Englishman, went from the cabin to find out what this might mean.