Scarface Read Online Free PDF Page B

meant to that half-naked body pinioned under its full glare. And yet not a murmur came from those bloodstained lips. Whatever else this Major might be, he was also a man of iron endurance.
    Scarface watched Creagh. Nat might be hot about any business when it was new come to his mind, but he was not a stayer and if the sloop had given wine for Cheap's table, it must also have supplied the boatswain with at least one private bottle. Creagh was never one to neglect his own comfort. And Nat had a thirst which would grow with the hours. It was only a matter of waiting—but could the Major outlast Creagh's sense of duty?
    The boy began to move his fingers, casting grotesque shadows on the deck planking. Once he touched the bruise on his jaw where Cheap had struck; it was aching bravely. Cold water on it now—
    Water—!
    His tongue was suddenly thick in his mouth at the thought of it. But he could get up, could cross the deck, could drink from that hollow gourd by the barrel—and no man would stop him. While the Major—
    Creagh was coming toward them. He leaned over the captive and with sudden viciousness pinched the sunblistered flesh. But the soldier made no sound and Scarface wondered if he had fainted.
    “This be no way t’ serve a tongue-tied man,” he commented.“I'll below t’ th’ Cap'n an’ ‘ave ‘is word fer another way.”
    And go below he did. But, Scarface noted, he did not turn towards the great cabin. It was plain that the boatswain was bound for his own cubby and the bottle he had taken pains to secrete there.
    Scarface got to his feet and went to the water barrel. The stuff was none too fragrant, it had been more than a week since those barrels had been filled. But it was water and not salt. He dipped the gourd and brought it out three-fourths full.
    “Vot do you, boy?”
    Water splashed out of the gourd. It was Roder who stood there behind him, a puzzled look on his half-moon face.
    “I try a plan of my own to make a talker of this Englishman,” returned Scarface. “This will I drink before his eyes, mayhap pouring some out beyond his reach. That will give him much to think on.”
    Roder considered the idea and then nodded heavily. “A goodt head have you, Scarface. Vhen a man must drink yet und sees de wasser—yah, dat is goodt—goodt. Do you so.”
    So he crossed to the hatch with Roder watching, the gourd in his two hands. And then he stooped closer to the Major's head.
    “Water, soldier,” he said, loudly enough to satisfy the gunner. “Water to drink.” He put the gourd to his mouth and sucked noisily.
    Those green eyes were open, fixed on him in a sort ofhorror. The battered lips drew back in an animal's snarl. But only a thin whisper of sound came through.
    “Devil—devil—”
    It was the ship herself who helped him play the trick he had planned for. Under them the deck gave a sudden lurch and the canvas cracked under a thrust of wind. Seawise Roder's eyes snapped aloft.
    But the water in the gourd splashed down, down into that gaping mouth, across that bloodstained face. Some of it must have meant easement. For the horror in those eyes gave way to something else. A strange questioning look which Scarface answered only with a curse at the ship and his own clumsiness. Only, when he went to return the gourd to the barrel, that shorn head against the grating turned painfully too and the eyes followed him still questioning.
    But such a trick could not be played twice nor could he see anything else which he could do for the other now. And dark was hours away—!
    Communion with the captured wine in the quiet of his own cabin had done something to Cheap. He came up while the sun was still over the mainmast, walking with his panther tread straight to the hatch where lay his victim.
    “So he is still of a stubborn mind, eh?” he asked of Scarface. “Well, mayhap I can find another use for him. Some deaths are too easy and I have no liking for wanton waste. Roder!”
    The gunner came