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The Expedition of Captain Flick: A Story of Adventure

Chapter XXVII. Basilea's Embassy

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Chapter XXVII. Basilea's Embassy.

“Behold, I come in humble guise,
To sue for peace, upon my knee;
Thou knowest love is seldom wise,
And turns at times to jealousy.
From all my loving sprang this hate;
I see my fault, alas! too late;
But give me back my heart's true mate,
And mercy, prythee, have on me.”

While the darkness was settling down the negroes drew off their forces, and retreated to the quay before the staircase. We had killed a great many of them, but what could we do in the midst of their thousands? We were but a handful against the whole population of Isk, and, trapped as we were in that pool, the outlook was anything but reassuring. The battle to-day had been a mere skirmish, as the warriors that fought had been hastily collected together—the garrison, as it were, of the city. To-morrow Basilea, acting through her puppet of a king, would summon the warriors from every village in the island, and then we should be overpowered by sheer numbers. Thousands hurling themselves page 304 against us, animated by fanaticism, would soon overwhelm our small party.

We determined to hold a council of war, but, pending doing so, Flick moved the yacht back to the cliffs, so that we could only be attacked in one direction. The sheer rocks, rising out of deep water at our back, preserved us from any surprise, and we swept the whole circumference of the pool with our search-light. A cry of wonderment arose from the negroes who were camped on the quays, when the great sword of electric light came stabbing through the dark, and picking out their congregated masses. The city, the temple, the mountain, flashed out with the distinctness of a photograph, and not one canoe could put off without being sighted by our men.

These, refreshed by a hearty meal and an allowance of grog, had returned to their posts, with loaded revolvers and rifles. The dead men were decently buried as soon as we reached our anchorage, Flick reading the service over them, as the corpses were shot into the pool. The crew were in very good spirits, feeling elevated by their victory, and were quite willing to wait the decision of the three of us. I should say four, for when we descended to the saloon, Captain Flick ordered Jenner to come also. In the present emergency his advice might be useful.

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We had washed after the fatigue and grime of the battle, and had changed our clothes. Now, after a good dinner, we all felt better, and were quite ready to discuss the future over a pipe. In a few minutes the council of war was in full swing.

“You see,” explained Flick, quietly, “this move of Basilea's has taken me by surprise. I said she would cut up rough if she guessed that Harry was paying attention to Myrtea, but I did not think her jealousy would go so far as war. I thought I might talk her into giving up Bertha and the statue in exchange for Harry.”

“Upon my word, that is kind of you, Flick!” cried Harry, with a laugh.

“Bah! you know what I mean, lad. I was only fooling her. Once Bertha and the statue were on board, and we would clear out.”

“Well, and why can't we do that now?” said I anxiously. “Let us storm the temple, rescue Bertha and Myrtea; blow up the gates and get away before dawn.”

“What about the statue?” asked Flick, obstinately.

“Oh, hang the statue! It has caused all the trouble. I want Bertha, Harry wants Myrtea—”

“And I want the statue,” finished Flick, firmly. “If we storm the temple to-night, I'm going to have a try for it.”

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“By all means,” said I, significantly; “but I warn you, Flick, that if we're not out of here by dawn, we shall have thousands of these devils on us. It was hard work to beat them off to-day; it will be harder to-morrow, when they come down in all their strength.”

“Like a wolf on the fold-eh, Sir Denis?” said Flick, angrily. “Well, no doubt you are right. As I got Miss Greenvile into this scrape, it is my duty to get her out of it. I will storm the temple to-night, if you like.”

“I approve of it, Flick. It's our only chance.”

“What do you say, Harry?”

“I say, make the attempt to-night. am afraid while Myrtea is in the power of that jealous woman.”

“Jenner?”

“I'm with you, captain. And I can answer for the men. They are all wild to get away from Isk.”

“Good!” said Flick, rising to his feet. “Then we will switch off the lights, and move across to our old anchorage. You, Sir Denis, will remain in charge of the boat with Jenner and twenty men. I shall take the rest and Harry. We'll have to fight our way up and down. But if the negroes try to stop us, as they undoubtedly will, open fire on them, and we'll slip back by a side quay. Keep the search-light on the steps till we descend, and on the negroes while we go page 307 off into the darkness. It's a forlorn hope, but it may succeed.”

“And the iron gates, sir?”

“We'll blow those up later on, Mr. Jenner,” said Flick, going on deck. “The first thing is to rescue the ladies. I regret the statue,” he added, with a sigh, “but I suppose I must put up with the loss. So far as that is concerned, the expedition is a failure.”

In a few minutes the men were informed of our plans, and they were so delighted therewith that they got to their stations with the utmost alacrity. The search-light was switched off, and the screws of the yacht began to spin. Suddenly, before the vessel had moved her own length, we heard a voice hail us out of the darkness.

“It's Ixtael!” cried Harry, quickly; “I know his voice. By Jove! are they going to buck in again?”

The yacht stopped, and the search-light again flared out into the gloom, slowly sweeping from side to side of the pool. In the radiance near at hand we saw a canoe paddled by a single man, and containing a single woman. It came alongside, and Flick bent down to see if he could recognize the occupants.

“Ixtael and Basilea!” he said, heartily. “She's come to make terms. Harry, go to the end of the ship with Jenner, and don't show yourself.”

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“Why not, Flick?”

“I'll tell you afterwards. Go, quick-quick! I have a plan here which may save the lot of us.”

Harry was rather puzzled by this sudden dismissal, but obeyed nevertheless, and slipped back into the gloom with Jenner, as Basilea climbed up the rope ladder slung over the side for her ascension. Suspecting treachery, Flick swept the quays with the light; but all seemed quiet, and neither boats nor swimmers appeared in the pool. Basilea guessed his suspicions, and smiled scornfully at these precautions.

“All is safe, stranger,” she said quietly. “I come in peace, and me you can hold as a hostage lest harm should befall. Also Ixtael, the general of our warriors, is here.”

“What do you want?” asked Roaring Tom, tartly.

“More mischief, I suppose—as if you hadn't done enough already.”

“I would see Fairhair.”

“You can't! Anything you wish to say must be said to myself and my friend here.”

“So be it,” replied the woman, quietly; “let us go into the light.”

Leaving Ixtael on deck with Jenner, who returned to keep an eye on him, we descended into the saloon. Basilea, whose grand face looked weary and worn, cast a careless glance around at the pretty little page 309 cabin, but made no remark, although the evidences of civilization must have astonished her greatly. With a weary sigh, she threw off her white cloak, and, seating herself on the divan, surveyed the two of us long and earnestly. I bore her gaze with great equanimity, waiting for her to declare the object of her visit; but Flick was not so patient, and in a few minutes demanded roughly what she wanted. He considered that she was the cause of the trouble we had undergone that day, and was by no means inclined to receive this Ate with courtesy.

“You ask why I come, white chief?” she said bitterly. “It is not for justice, be sure. Did we not receive you kindly? Did we not give you the best in our isle? Ay, we acted so; but you have slain our folk, you have sunk our ship, you have insulted the holy goddess.”

“Come, now, Basilea,” said Flick, bluntly; “it was you who began the trouble. If you had not ordered Fairhair to be killed, he would not have slain your warriors. It was by your command that our boat was attacked this afternoon; and had we not possessed weapons of which you knew nothing, it might have gone hard with us. Look on both sides of the question, Basilea, and see who is to blame, you or us.”

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“You are cruel and evil-hearted men,” she retorted, still looking at the matter from her point of view. “I love Fairhair, and by the will of the goddess he was given to me for spouse. What did I find, strangers? That he deceived me, he insulted the goddess, and gave his kisses to the fickle and faithless Myrtea.”

“Was that a reason for bringing about this trouble?” demanded Flick impatiently.

“Ay; the holy Venus cannot be insulted with impunity. Fear you not the wrath of the goddess?”

“Not a bit. Our gods are not your gods, Basilea.”

Basilea rose to her feet in horror, and made a sign to avert the vengeance of Venus.

“Rash one, would you die before your hour?” she said in a low voice. “You scoff at the goddess, you speak with contempt of her shrine; but know that below she is preparing her vengeance. The burning mountain is held peaceful only by her will. Were I to pray to her, and invoke her wrath, dire would be the rain of flame and ashes which would descend on you.”

“And on Isk also, Basilea,” said I, quickly. “If you punish us in that way, you punish the whole island. You will involve the just and unjust in a common ruin.”

“It will come—it must come!” cried the high page 311 priestess, prophetically. “But yesterday I ascended to the peak of the smoking hill. Fire flames in the cup, waves of molten lava roll in the hollow; all is prepared. A word from me, and those terrors would be unchained.”

“Then I advise you to keep them tied up,” said Flick, lightly; “that is, if you wish to preserve your temple from ruin. If Venus lets fly in that fashion, her own dwelling will be the first to smash up. I don't think much of a deity who cuts off her nose to spite her face.”

“Beware! beware! These be awful words,” said Basilea, again making the gesture. “But enough of such idle talk. The night wanes, and I would depart. Give me Fairhair to be my spouse, let him go hence with me, and to-morrow you can depart from Isk unharmed.”

“And if we don't agree, Basilea?”

“Then will I unchain the terrors of the hill, and ye shall die.”

“Rot!” muttered Flick, weary of this mystical talk. “See here, Basilea. If you try any more of these murdering games, I'll pound your temple and statue to marbles. I have weapons, of which you know nothing, which will blow up yonder shrine as high as the stars. There is no need to wait for the mountain to act. I can ruin the island myself.”

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For the first time Basilea paled, for after the exhibition of to-day, she was well aware that the islanders could not cope with us in the matter of destructive weapons. She looked helplessly at Flick, not knowing what to say or do. The religious terrors, which were so efficacious with the islanders, had no effect on him, and for the moment she was puzzled how to answer. Flick took the initiative.

“See here, Basilea,” he said in a conciliating tone, “we both want something; you wish for Fairhair, I want—the statue of Venus.”

“The statue of Venus!” she gasped, an expression of terror flitting across her face.

“The same,” rejoined Roaring Tom, coolly. “You deliver it to me on board this boat, and I'll engage to hand you back Fairchild, to marry, if you choose.”

Basilea stood looking at him as though she were turned into stone. The audacity of the demand appalled even her bold spirit; and seeing her thus mute, Flick pursued his speech. For obvious reasons I took no part in this highly interesting conversation.

“That's not all,” resumed Flick, slowly. “My friend Darkhair is plighted to the maid you hold in your power as the future Queen of Isk. She must be allowed to go also. As regards Myrtea, you can do page 313 as you please—either marry her to Fairchild, or throw her into the smoking mountain.”

The priestess let a gleam of fierceness flicker across her face at the mention of Myrtea's name, and an idea seemed to strike her.

“Myrtea is imprisoned in the room of our future queen,” she said quietly, “and awaits punishment when the marriage of Hesperus takes place.”

“It must never take place,” I broke in, impetuously.

“No,” said Basilea, with an enigmatic smile; “it shall not take place. Give me Fairchild to-morrow,” she added, turning to Flick, “and to-morrow you shall receive the statue of the goddess. But be quiet—be silent, lest we be torn to pieces by the populace for this sacrilege.”

“You will give up the statue?” cried Flick, hardly believing his ears.

“Yes. To-morrow, at noon, a case shall be delivered to you. That case shall contain the holy statue.”

“And Bertha—your future queen?”

“Come to the temple at night, Darkhair,” she answered; “to-morrow night, when we worship Venus, at the new moon. Then you can take the maiden with you, and you can deliver Fairchild into my hands.”

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“Good,” said Flick, cordially. “You promise to do this?”

Basilea looked at him steadily.

“I promise to do this,” she said coldly, and, dropping the veil over her face, she moved swiftly towards the door.

We followed her on deck, and Flick laid his hand on her arm as she prepared to descend into the boat, where Ixtael already waited her.

“One moment, Basilea,” he said quickly. “Will your men attack us to-morrow?”

“No! You are safe, white chief, till all is accomplished.”

With a strange smile she dropped into the canoe, and the next instant it vanished out of the trail of light into the darkness. Harry, who had been on the watch, came forward.

“Is Myrtea safe?” he asked eagerly.

“She is safe,” replied Flick, “and so are we. Basilea has agreed to set Bertha free to-morrow, and to give up the statue.”

“The deuce she has! And her reward?”

“Is to be you. When she delivers the statue and Bertha, we deliver you into her hands.”

“A game of bluff,” said Harry, coolly. “Well, I suppose we must do our best to beat her. If I can I must rescue Myrtea, and we'll all sail away, leaving page 315 Basilea lamenting like another Ariadne. What do you think, old Evans?”

“I think Basilea has some plan in her head,” said I, gravely; “there's more trouble coming, I'm sure.”

Neither Flick nor Harry believed me, but subsequent events proved that I was right.