The deck forward of the main mast was too dark for observation, although I was certain of a group of men gathered in the waist to leeward. Occasionally the sound of a voice was blown back, and I could perceive the dull, red glow of a pipe or two. The main body of the watch these would be, and even as I stared at the lumping shadow, a command was roared from the bridge, and two shapeless figures detached themselves from the mass, and ran forward. The bridge itself was partially outlined against the lighter sky, giving me a vague glimpse of two figures, one standing motionless, as though gripping the rail, and peering straight ahead into the smother, the other striding back and forth. The last appeared a huge shadow, his coat flapping in the wind, and I knew he must be the German first mate, Herman.

Satisfied on these points, and with a glance below at the unoccupied cabin, I stepped back and paced off the distance, until convinced that I had safely located where the porthole of number "5" should be. I leaned over, seeking to trace its outline by some reflection of light from within, but the receding side of the vessel baffled me. Yet, assured that I must be correct in my measurements, I marked the spot on the rail, and began search for some means by which I could open communication with the girl below.



CHAPTER XXV

THE FREEDOM OF THE DECK

The flag locker was astern, and standing on it I could feel inside the boat swung to the davits. It was a small, light boat, fashioned like a cutter, a good sea-going craft for its size. Two oars and a short mast together with a roll of canvas were stowed on top the thwarts, and secured by lashings. I cut one of these, and drew forth about three fathoms of line, sufficiently pliable for my purpose. The severed end of cord I thrust down out of sight, where it would escape any superficial examination. Anxious as I was to carry out my plans rapidly I could not refrain from passing my hands over the boat, impressed by its lightness and sea-going qualities, and inspired by the thought it might eventually aid in our escape. It hung ready for launching, the falls easily unhooked, and two pair of hands would be sufficient to lower it into the water. There was a locker forward I was unable to reach, but two water kegs, filled, were strapped under the stern sheets, leading me to believe the craft was fully equipped for immediate service. My mind filled with a daring hope by this discovery, I fastened the note to the end of the cord, weighted it with a bunch of keys, and crept back to where I had marked the rail. Inch by inch I payed out the line, leaning well over. At last my ears detected the dangling of the metallic keys against glass, and, by manipulating the rope, managed to make them sound with clear insistence. I repeated the effort several times before there was any response. Then the port seemed to be opened cautiously, although no gleam of light shot forth. She had evidently extinguished her lamp before venturing to answer the signal, but I felt her grasp on the cord. Then it was left dangling against the closed port, leaving me to infer that she was reading the hasty note.

I must have hung there gazing down into the black shadows for two or three minutes, before my line was again hauled taut, but, as I straightened up, prepared to haul up the returning message, I saw the shadow of a man passing across the cabin below. He was already at the foot of the companion stairs; in another minute would be on deck. There was no time to do otherwise, and I released my grasp of the rope, letting it drop silently into the water. I had barely turned my back to the rail when Henley emerged within six feet of me. For an instant his gaze was forward, and then, as his eyes accustomed themselves to the darkness, he turned slightly and perceived me, peering at me in uncertainty.

"Who is this? Oh, you, Craig," he questioned sharply. "Not asleep yet?"

"Not even drowsy," I said, pretending an ease I was far from feeling. "The crack on my head yesterday pains considerable, and besides I wanted to think over your proposition a bit."

"You must have the skull of an elephant, or a negro, to have any head at all," he agreed, apparently satisfied. "But I would advise sleep nevertheless. You think favorably of my plan, I hope."

"I see no reason to refuse, if the pay is all right."

"It will be; trust me for that. A beautiful night this—the air as soft as June. I was about to turn in, but decided to take a whiff on deck first."

"Rather a captain's duty, is it not?"

"I believe so, in regular service, but this is decidedly irregular. The fact is, that while I am the owner of this vessel, and technically in command, I am no navigator. I merely give my general orders, and trust the seamanship to Herman. He is perfectly trustworthy and capable, and I never interfere. The last voyage I doubt if I was on deck twice, although, of course," he added soberly, "my word goes if I should care to exercise authority."

I remained silent, staring out across the water, endeavoring to reconcile his statements, and wondering what message it was I had dropped into the deep.

"What are those lights off yonder?" I asked, at length, pointing.

"Shore lights."

"Then we are steering east?"

"A bit south of east, yes; odd course for Honduras, you think?"

I nodded, willing enough to let him talk.

"We are playing the game safe, Craig; that's all," he explained, both hands gripping the rail. "You see we cleared for Santiago, and are not anxious to be seen and reported by any west-bound ships. We are keeping well to the north of their course now, and tomorrow will be hidden among the islands off the west Florida coast. Then, as soon as it is dark, we will shoot out under full steam, into the Gulf. The chances are we 'll cross the lane unobserved; if we should intercept a liner, she won't identify us in the dark, as we burn no lights. By daylight we 'll be well beyond their look-outs, and can steer a straight course."

Vague as my memory was regarding the Gulf and its surrounding coast line, this explanation seemed reasonable enough, and I remained silent, gazing off across the water. He did not speak again, yet the very proximity of the man irritated me, my dislike and distrust of him so deep rooted that I could scarcely bear his near presence. I wanted to be alone, where I could think out some feasible scheme of escape.

"I have had enough for tonight," I said finally, "and am going to turn in."

"Best thing you can do," he coincided, but without looking toward me. "Will follow suit as soon as I smoke a cigarette. See you tomorrow."

I went down the companion stairs directly to my stateroom, not even glancing aside, feeling confident that he would be watching me from above. I had every reason to believe I had won his confidence, that he counted me as already among those he controlled and commanded, yet he was not a man who would ever rise above suspicion, and his trust would always be limited. Without lighting a lamp I lay down, still partially dressed, on my bunk, my mind busily occupied with desperate plans, none of them satisfactory. We would not be far from land, according to his statement, until late the following night. The small boat hanging astern was fully capable of transporting the two of us safely, and I was sufficiently acquainted with such a craft to feel no doubt of my ability to navigate it if once afloat. But unless Mrs. Henley was also given her freedom on board, I could perceive no means of reaching her. With her stateroom key hidden in the Captain's pocket, any plan I might formulate was useless. Nor was it at all probable she would be released until we were well at sea. Baffled by these conditions I tossed and turned for an hour, hearing Henley return to his cabin, and marking a swifter pulsation of the engines. Finally worn out mentally, as well as physically, I fell asleep.

When I awoke the sun was shining through the glass of my porthole, and glancing forth I caught the dazzle of the water. The vessel was motionless, apparently riding at anchor, the sea barely rippled by a gentle breeze. Refreshed by sleep and more eager than ever to be in action, I dressed hurriedly, and stepped forth into the cabin. The breakfast table was set for one, and the black steward was lolling lazily in a chair. At sight of me he got to his feet.

"Ah suah thought you was n't nebber goin' ter wake up, sah," he said genially, showing his teeth. "Ah bin waitin' fer yer mor'n two hours, Ah reckon."

"For me! Have the others eaten then?"

"Mostly, sah, mostly. De Captain he nebber eat no breakfast; he say et ain't good fer his libber—yaw; yaw!—but de mates dey both bin down."

"What time is it?"

"Most ten, sah."

"I did sleep, that 's a fact, Louis. However, I 'll try and do full justice to anything you got," and I seated myself at the table. "Has Mrs. Henley breakfasted yet?"

"Who, sah?"

"The lady you have on board."

He scratched the wool on his head vigorously, glancing behind the mast as though uncertain what he had best answer.

"Ah suah nebber know'd dat wus her name, sah; no sah, Ah nebber done suspected it. Yes, sah, she had her breakfast, but, Ah reckon she did n't eat much."

"You served her here at the table?"

The negro, apparently anxious to escape from the topic, shook his head.

"No, sah; in her room, sah," his voice low. "De Captain, he unlock de doah, an' then lock it agin. He say she done gone crazy, but Lor' she don't look dat-a-way to me. You like sugah in your coffee, sah?"

In spite of the seeming geniality of the steward, and his eagerness now to question me, I realized that he was thoroughly dominated by personal fear of the man aft. The less I questioned him the better, probably, as there was a strong possibility that he would be interviewed later relative to our conversation. Henley was only testing me, and would use the darky, if he could, to learn more of my plans. So, although, a number of questions trembled on my lips, I left them unasked, and finished my meal in silence. Louis hovered around, dropping a sly hint now and then, which only served to increase my suspicion that he might have received instructions to draw me out. If so, the experiment was a failure, and, after a light meal, I lit a pipe, and, ignoring him completely, strolled out on deck. There was evidently no hope that the woman would be released at present, and I could formulate no plan of communicating with her, but I was no less anxious to view our surroundings.

I found the after-deck entirely deserted, and there was no one visible on the bridge. Two or three sailors—the anchor watch—were forward, engaged in some service about the capstan, and a fellow was swabbing the deck amidship. I heard Broussard's voice at a distance, but could not locate him. However, no one paid the slightest attention to me, as I stood smoking, and gazing curiously around. Everything appeared peaceful enough. We were lying in a small harbor, within a hundred feet of the shore, completely concealed on the sea side, by a thick forest growth lining the higher ridge, of what appeared a narrow island. The Sea Gull's fires were banked, only a thin vapor arising from the stack which instantly disappeared. In the opposite direction there was a wide expanse of water, quiet as a mill-pond in spite of a fresh breeze, revealing in the distance the faint blue blur of a far-off coast line. Nothing broke the vista except the white sails of two sloops, evidently fishing boats, far off on the horizon. It was an ideal spot in which to lie—to quietly hide in during the hours of daylight, probably never approached but by stray fishermen. Ashore everything appeared primitive and uninhabited, except for one of the Sea Gull's small boats beached directly opposite, the crew hidden in the brush.

I walked leisurely around the cabin transom, peering into the boat swung astern, so as to better familiarize myself with its equipment, meanwhile keeping a wary eye on the cabin below, where the negro was clearing the table, and then, satisfied I had everything photographed upon the mind, sauntered forward toward the bridge, aiming to exchange greetings with the Creole mate. Broussard was not a man to expect favors from, and I had hated him with the first glimpse of his face, yet he possessed his racial characteristic of impulsive speech, and was thus far more approachable than the gruff German first officer. Perhaps, if he believed me an accomplice, he might be led to talk, and even be induced to let drop some hint which would later prove useful. I met him just forward of the chart-house, and the manner in which he eyed me was immediate proof that he remained uninformed as to my new status on board.

"How you com' on ze deck, M'sieur?" he asked, his eyes threatening. "By Gar, I thought you down below, locked in all tight," and he waved an expressive hand aft.



CHAPTER XXVI

THE NEW PERIL

I laughed, but without paying him the compliment of looking at him.

"I 've changed allegiance, that's all, Broussard. It's money which makes the mare go with all of us, eh? The Captain turned me loose last night."

"You wif us? You go volunter?"

"Well, something like that. I 'm to be drill-master, or general, for those tattered battalions down in the jungles. What do you think of the job?"

He shrugged his shoulders, and then grinned.

"What ze dif!" and he swept his hands about in expressive gesture. "Sea—land, if only one gets the price, M'sieur. But for me I like to go, to move; not lie still an' rot."

"Of course," falling into his mood, "that's in your blood, I reckon, but the Captain said we were only to hide here for a day."

"Maybe day, maybe week. No one knows how long. We wait till the sea is clear. Bah! the man 'fraid of shadow. He give me sheep, an' I show heem."

"You 'd take a chance?"

"Oui, M'sieur. I wait till dark, no more, den I take ze chance. But ze Capitaine, he no sailor, M'sieur; I know heem long while."

"How long?"

"Oh, seek, eight year."

"Then you can tell me if he is really Judge Henley's son?"

"Oui, M'sieur; 'tis sure I can. I hav' been with heem there," his brown hand outstretched landward, "where we got you, hey, many the time; besides, the Judge he been on zis sheep. Of course he was son; why you think not?"

I shook my head, unwilling to discuss the affair with the fellow, yet impressed by his statement.

"I am beginning to believe I do not know very much about it, Broussard," I explained briefly, moving aside to the rail. "I came down South with another story pumped into me, that's all."

"And ze young woman," he persisted, following me closely, "why she come?"

"For the same reason I did."

He laughed, his eyes sparkling.

"More like 'cause she love you, hey! Sacre, she was fine-lookin' girl, but," shrugging his shoulders, "'t is the Capitaine, not ze mate, who may admire."

I turned on the fellow, my blood boiling.

"What do you mean by that! That Henley will dare intrude himself?"

"Sacre, an' why not, M'sieur! He is ze Capitaine; nobody tell him not on ze Sea Gull. I know him seek, eight year, an' he devil with women. She not ze furst to be on board ze sheep. Zar no use you be mad, M'sieur; he laugh at you."

"Then for once he will laugh at the wrong man, Broussard," I said soberly. Regretting the threat even as I uttered it, I left him and walked aft, aware as I turned of the sneer on his face. Yet even then, although burning with anger, I knew better than to remain. I dare not speak the bitter words on my tongue, feeling certain that whatever I said would be repeated to Henley. I despised Broussard, and would have taken the rat by the throat, but for a wholesome fear of his master. I knew men well enough to understand the character of the Sea Gull's Captain. With unlimited power in his hands he was not an antagonist to be despised. He was a cruel, merciless coward, and, in spite of my boast, I realized how helpless I was to oppose his will, here, in the midst of men who would obey his slightest command. Nor did I doubt his purpose; now that he had seemingly won me over to his scheme, he would turn his attention to her, feeling secure from interference. I had permitted him to believe that she was but a chance acquaintance, in whom I felt little interest, and he would consequently anticipate no serious protest from me. Even if I did intervene he possessed the power to render me helpless. And he was Judge Henley's son, or, at least, so these men believed who had been associated with him for years. The situation grew more and more complicated; it was no longer merely her word against his, and yet I could not doubt the truth of any statement she had made to me. There was a mystery here unexplained, involving the dead, and strangely complicating the lives of the living.

I paced the deck undisturbed, struggling vainly to evolve some solution. Broussard stared in my direction for a moment, but made no effort to follow, and finally disappeared forward. There was nothing on sea or land to distract my attention, and I felt that I would be nearer to her below in the cabin than on deck. The skylight was closed, although even then it gave me a partial view, and, as I gazed through the clouded glass, I perceived a shadow pass. The next instant the negro steward emerged from the companion. Some swift impulse led me to crouch instantly out of sight, until the sound of his feet on the deck convinced me the fellow was going forward. I watched him cautiously; he stopped twice to glance back, but, perceiving nothing, finally vanished into the forecastle. While I in no way connected his actions with myself, yet the disquieting thought as instantly occurred to me that the negro's going forward had left the Captain and Viola Henley alone below. If the steward was acting under orders his being dispatched from the cabin at this hour was for a purpose. Determined to learn what this purpose might be, I crept to the door of the companion, and then down the stairs.

The main cabin was vacant, but the door of number 5 stateroom stood slightly ajar. Assured I should find it empty, my heart already beating furiously, I took a swift glance within. It in no way differed from the room which had been assigned me opposite, and everything was in perfect order. Evidently the girl had departed without a struggle, and with full expectation of an early return. Her small hand-bag lay on the berth unlatched, and a handkerchief, together with a pair of gloves, were upon the chair. That she had not gone on deck was a certainty, while the deserted cabin led me irresistibly to suspect the Captain's quarters. He had dismissed the steward on some excuse, opened her door, and, using some pretense, or authority, had impelled her to accompany him. She had no means of resistance even if she had suspected his purpose, and the probability was the fellow had been plausible enough to achieve his point without violence. This was all clear enough to my mind, but what I could do to help her, to overcome him, was not so evident. I was alone, unarmed, surrounded by men under his command.

Possibly, even now, I was under surveillance. The negro had left the cabin, I knew, but where was Herman? Broussard was in charge of the deck, and hence this would be the first mate's watch below. Impressed with this disconcerting thought, I emerged again into the main cabin. The stateroom doors were all closed, and I had to guess which was the German's. I was sure, however, that Broussard occupied the first on the port side; I had heard him open that door while talking to the steward, and it was highly probable the first mate had the apartment opposite. Judging from the position of the doors these would be larger than the other staterooms, and, if Herman was the real navigator of the boat, he would require good quarters. I listened at the door, but heard nothing; then, rendered desperate by the delay, tried the knob cautiously. The door was unlocked, opening noiselessly. A glance convinced me the room was unoccupied, and I stepped inside, gazing about in surprise. It was nearly twice the size of my own apartment, containing a wide single berth, several comfortable upholstered chairs, and a large desk, on which stood a sextant, besides several charts, one unrolled. To my left, close against the side of the vessel was a narrow door standing ajar, and through the opening I caught sight of a porcelain bath tub.

Instantly my mind leaped to a conclusion—the first mate was not on board; he was ashore with the boat party, and that beast Henley, was entirely alone. He had taken advantage of the opportunity. But what in God's name could I do! If I broke down the door into his cabin, the noise would be heard on deck, and besides, the fellow was armed. The only result of such an effort would be my own imprisonment, leaving her in more helpless stress than before. Without knowing why, I stepped around the desk, and peered into the bathroom. It was small, but perfect in arrangement, and, to my surprise, revealed a second door. In an instant I understood—this was not Herman's private bath, but was also used by the Captain; that second door led to the after-cabin. I was there in two strides, my ear at the crack listening. Nothing reached me but the murmur of a voice, the words indistinguishable, yet this was sufficient to convince me that I was on the right trail. The two were together, and here was an opportunity for me to reach them unobserved. Slowly, using every precaution to avoid noise, I turned the knob, and opened the intervening door a scant inch. I could hear the voice now plainly, but my view was blocked by a heavy curtain. Breathless, I drew a fold aside, and caught a glimpse of the interior.

Neither occupant was facing in my direction, and both were too deeply interested to observe. Besides, the possibility of intrusion was not in their minds. Henley stood beside his desk, the same sneering smile I had learned to hate, curling his lips, his eyes on her face in a gaze that was insult. The girl, evidently retreating before him, alarmed by some word he had uttered, or by his approach, had reached the door, and grasped the knob. The expression on her face told me she had discovered it locked, herself a prisoner, and that she had turned in desperation. Her first, swift, unrestraining speech gave me full understanding of her despair.

"You have trapped me here—you—you brute," she burst forth. "What you said out yonder was all a lie to—to get me to come with you!"

"Well, what of it?" insinuatingly. "All is fair in love and war, I have heard, and this is either the one or the other. Why should n't it be me, my dear, as well as the other?"

"What do you mean? Do you connect me with Gordon Craig?"

"Of course," and he laughed. "Why shouldn't I, please? You came with him from the North, did you not—traveling as his wife? Picked the fellow up on the street, did n't you? My dear, this assumption of outraged virtue is all thrown away on me—I happen to know your history."

She took a deep breath, standing straight before him, her cheeks burning.

"Perhaps you think you do," she said, now in full control of herself. "But you are going to learn your mistake. I am here under unpleasant circumstances, yet, I am not subject to your insult. I refuse to answer you, or remain in your presence," she stepped aside, leaving free passage. "You will unlock that door."

"Hardly that," and I could see his fingers shut down on the top of the desk. "It takes more than a few words to change me. Really, I like you better than I did. You are decidedly pretty now you are angry. Besides, what have I to be afraid of? There is no one but us in this part of the ship; I fixed that up before I went after you; even your friend Craig is mooning around somewhere on deck, dreaming about a fortune. If you cry out, no one will hear you, and if they did, God pity the man who attempted to come in here. I 'm Captain of the Sea Gull, and there 's not a rapscallion on board who would risk his skull to help you. Even Craig would n't; Lord, he even told me himself you were nothing to him."

"He—he told you that!"

"He certainly did, in this room. Come, now, what is the use of being such a cat? I 'm not a bad fellow if I am treated half-way decent. I 've got money to spend, and know how to spend it." He took a step forward, but she never moved.

"Don't touch me," she said in a tone that stopped him. "I am a woman, but I can defend myself."



CHAPTER XXVII

THE TABLES TURNED

There was that about her attitude, and the expression of her face, which restrained the fellow. No doubt he suspected for a moment that she might be armed, for his quick glance swept her from head to foot. Then his eyes hardened.

"That is the worst thing you can do—threaten me," he said sharply. "I never take that from man or woman. See here, do you realize where you are? how completely you are in my power? Do you?"

She did not quail, or look aside; nor did she answer, standing straight, her eyes on his face, her bosom rising and falling from swift breathing.

"I doubt if you do," he went on, angered by her contempt. "Well, think it over. This is my ship, and we 're at sea. I 'm owner and captain, and my word on board here is the law. More than that, there is n't a man-jack of the crew aft of the main mast. They are forward on my orders, and they 'll stay there until I send for them. You could scream your head off, my beauty, and no one would hear you, or dare interfere. Now do you perceive why it is to your interest to be kind to me?"

"I do not."

He laughed, rendered ugly by her open defiance.

"Then I 'll teach you. You are not the first of your kind I have tamed, young lady. The door is locked, and you have n't any weapon; don't try to fool me!"

"I have told you once," she said earnestly, "not to touch me."

He glanced about sneeringly, yet impressed by her manner of speaking.

"Good Lord! do you mean Craig? A lot that fellow will help you. But we 've had enough of this. Will you come over here to me?"

"No!"

"Then I'll take a chance; damn me, but you're worth it!"

Neither one saw me, yet I was across the room before he had taken the two steps forward, and gripped her arm. I saw her struggle to break free, and then, out of the shadow I leaped at him, both hands seeking his throat. There was to be no alarm, no shooting, if it could be avoided. While it might be true, as he had boasted, that the crew was forward, we could afford to take no chance. The very impetus of my rush sent him staggering, and left her helpless on the deck; yet I got grip on his collar, choking back the first cry, and struck him once, a half-arm jolt, which would have sent him sprawling, but for the cabin wall. Yet he rallied so quickly as to overcome this advantage. Judging him from his size I had underrated his fighting ability, for he was all muscle, swift in movement as a cat, squirming out of my grasp before I could close firmly. His contact with the wall helped him to keep his feet, yet, quick as his recovery was, he failed to break my grip, and we struggled fiercely for advantage. He recognized me, and understood instantly. He was a wrestler, while I must rely upon sheer strength to overcome his tricks. Even as he adventured first I had him pinned tight, and we strained back and forth across the cabin deck, neither able to throw the other, in grim, relentless struggle. My fingers were wrenched from his throat, yet the fellow made no outcry, realizing doubtless he would not be heard. His eyes blazed with hate, merciless, vindictive, and he struggled like a fiend to break free. I saw the girl, still dazed from her fall, struggling to her feet, with face uplifted, then my every consideration was riveted on my antagonist. This was to be no boy's play, no easy victory; his muscles were like iron, his movements so quick and unexpected as to put me on the defensive. I could only hold tight, braced for the strain, yet forced back in spite of every effort, inch by inch across the floor, my feet tangled in the rug. Neither could strike, nor kick; I was weaponless, and I dare not release his arms for fear he might possess a gun. Once I bent him back until he seemed helpless, yet, by some trick, he wiggled free, and thrust me against the desk, its corner gouging into my side. The pain gave me superhuman strength, and I swung him sideways, the two of us tripping over the chair, and coming down heavily on the deck. By some luck I landed on top, and, before he recovered from the shock, had wrenched one arm free, locking my fingers in his throat.

He squirmed under me like an eel, but could not break the grip, his face purpling, until he lost all power. Fierce as the battle had been I retained sufficient sense to loosen my death grip while the man still breathed, lifting my head sufficiently to glance about. My own breath came in sobs, and the perspiration almost blinded me.

"Bring me something to tie him with," I said brokenly. "Anything; yes, that belt will do."

She tore it from the hook on the wall, and thrust it into my hands. With a single movement I had it buckled securely about his arms, and was free to sit up, and stare about. A cord from the portiere curtain draping the bathroom entrance completed his lashings. With wicked eyes he stared up at me, unable to move a muscle.

"By God, Craig!" he snarled, "you'll both wish you 'd killed me before ye 're done with this job."

I made no reply, using the corner of the desk to help me get to my feet.

"Do you hear!" he shouted. "What chance have you got to get away?"

"That is for me to decide," I answered. "But if you open your mouth again I 'll gag you. Now stop it; the first word you utter will mean a handkerchief in your mouth."

I stooped down, and dragged him to one side. As I straightened up again she was facing me, her eyes frankly meeting mine.

"You—you know how I came here?" she asked, as though that was the most important.

"Of course; I overheard most of the conversation."

"How did you find out? how did you get here?"

"Your door was left ajar, and I found my way through the connecting bathroom yonder."

"Then—then, we can escape in the same manner."

"I hardly think that will be necessary. I 'll go through our friend's pockets for his keys." I turned him over, and began the search. "Ah, a revolver; I thought probable—in protection against a woman, you cur. Here are keys; now let's see what they fit."

The third one tried unlocked the door, but even as I tried them in the lock, my mind swiftly reviewed the situation in which this affair left us, and leaped forward toward a possible solution. It must be open war from now on. No pretense on my part would ever again win me the confidence of the man I had fought and conquered. Henceforward, we could expect no mercy on board. Yet how was it possible to escape, or avoid discovery? To attempt leaving the Sea Gull before dark would be suicidal; no boat could be lowered unseen, and even if one reached the surface of the water, we would surely be overtaken, and brought back. Yet there was a chance that what had occurred in this cabin could be kept concealed for a few hours, until darkness gave us better opportunity for successful action. The memory of what Henley had said to me the evening before—that he was only technically in command; that for days at a time he never appeared on deck in person, gave me the clew. If he could be kept absolutely secure in his cabin, unable to create any alarm, we would be free to plan our escape. There were but two points of danger to be guarded against—Herman and the steward. The former, when he returned from shore, might seek him for final orders, and the latter, if he failed to appear in the cabin for the regular meal, would endeavor to learn his desires. I would have to guard against these contingencies, and, with the first in mind, I stepped across to the bathroom, and was gratified to learn that the door leading into the mate's stateroom could be locked on the inside. With this private approach barred I felt confident of being able to guard the single entrance remaining. I met her waiting for me as I stepped out from behind the curtain.

"Well, what can we do?"

"Keep the fellow tied, and wait for night," I answered soberly. "That is our only chance. The mate is ashore—we are lying in the cove of a small island off the Florida coast, waiting for darkness, and a chance to slip through into southern waters."

"Do you know where this boat is bound?"

"Yes—Spanish Honduras; we are loaded with munitions of war," I laughed. "I was to be a general down there."

"You!"

"Yes; swift promotion, was n't it! Our friend yonder promised the job; all I had to do was to desert you, and join his outfit."

"And you consented?"

"With a mental reservation. It gained me a few hours' freedom at least, and surely has done you no harm. Did you doubt me?"

"Oh, I hardly know. I was so miserable locked up alone, unable to even learn where we were going, that I lost faith in everyone. You acted so strange."

"I had to play my part. But you received my note?"

"Yes, and it helped me wonderfully, although even then I scarcely comprehended why all this pretense was necessary. Surely you do not believe this man is Philip Henley? that—that I have told you a lie?"

"No, I do not," I answered earnestly. "It is my absolute confidence in you which has held me steadfast. He has shown me evidence of his identity which would have convinced me under other circumstances—letters and pictures; I will show them to you, for I know where they are kept in the desk—but in opposition I had your word, and I believed in that. No evidence would shake my faith in you, and I am certain now there is fraud here—some devilish plot concocted to steal Judge Henley's fortune."

"What letters? What pictures were they?"

"Letters from the Judge to his son—intimate, family letters, and a photograph of the father and this man taken together."

"And were the letters addressed to Philip?"

"The envelopes had been destroyed, and no name was mentioned, but the photograph was endorsed in the Judge's handwriting."

She sank down on a locker, and hid her face in her hands. The pitiful dejection in her attitude compelled me to bend over her in quick sympathy.

"Please do not take it like that," I urged. "We shall find a way of escape if we keep our courage, and work together."

"Oh, it is not that," and she looked up into my face. "I am not afraid. Only I cannot bear the thought that you doubt me ever so little. I know I have been indiscreet, that you might justly deem me an adventuress. But I am not, Gordon Craig; I am a good woman left to fight alone, and I must have your faith, or break down utterly."

"Why do you suppose you have not?" I asked, grasping her hands in complete forgetfulness. "We are together now in open fight against these villains. There is no longer any purpose in acting a lie."

"It was a lie?"

"A bare-faced one. Never for an instant did I intend deserting you, or becoming that man's tool."

"And you believe me—all I have told you; that I am really the wife of Philip Henley?"

"Yes," I answered through clinched teeth, struggling to control myself.

For a moment she sat in silence, and, while I dare not look at her, I knew her eyes were upon my face.

"Then I will do whatever you say, go wherever you tell me," she promised gravely. "I cannot decide for myself. I am too confused to think clearly, but I trust you as a friend."

"Is—is that all?" I stammered, unable to restrain the words.

"All! What do you mean? is that not enough?" in surprise.

My eyes met hers, and I cursed myself for a fool.

"Yes—I—I meant nothing," I managed to explain lamely. "That was a slip of the tongue. Please forget it, and keep faith in me."

I drew aside the curtain draping one of the after ports, and glanced out, eager for anything to distract attention. Through the clear glass I could see the curve of shore-line forming the little cove. Just within the foam of the breakers a half dozen men were launching a small boat. I stared at them an instant, before realizing what it meant. Then I dropped the curtain.

"The mate is coming aboard," I said swiftly. "You must go to your room; here is the key; lock yourself in, and only open when you hear my voice."

"And you—?"

"I must take care of myself; don't worry about me."

She hesitated, yet the expression of my face decided her, and she held out her hand.

"I—I said I would do whatever you told me to, and here I am questioning the first thing. Forgive me."

Without so much as a glance at our prisoner, she opened the door, and, with a swift look about the outer cabin, disappeared.



CHAPTER XXVIII

THE CREOLE'S STORY

My time of preparation was brief, yet I already had a plan of operation outlined. In truth, there was small choice left me. I must keep Henley concealed and silent until darkness rendered our escape possible. In order to accomplish this it would be necessary to prevent either the steward or the mate from entering the after cabin. All peril from the negro I dismissed quickly, confident that his knowledge of my standing on board would impel him to accept any explanation I might make. But with Herman the situation was not so clear. Whether, or not, the Captain had informed him that I was a volunteer on their lawless expedition, I did not know. We had not met since coming aboard, and, unless he had received direct orders regarding my status, any interference on my part would be apt to arouse instant suspicion. Nor was he the kind to brook any assumed authority. I had him placed as a gruff, hard-fisted sea-dog, who would strike first, and investigate later—one in dealing with whom either diplomacy or force might prove equal failures. Yet I possessed this advantage—I could deal with him alone. With but two watch officers on board, only one at a time could leave the deck, and Broussard, I felt assured, had no privileges in the Captain's cabin. From what I knew of Henley I doubted if even the first officer felt privileged to invade the privacy of his chief without some special reason. There was discipline on board, strict discipline; there had to be to control such a crew, and it was my impression Henley was the very kind to insist on every privilege of his station. Herman was of value merely for his ability as navigator; socially, the Captain and he had nothing in common. It was on this theory I decided to work.

As I lifted the helpless Captain into his berth, his eyes glaring at me in impotent rage, my ears could distinguish the sound of oars as the small boat rounded the stern of the Sea Gull. Much as I despised the fellow, I hated to gag him, yet our safety depended on his silence, and I dare not neglect the precaution. Even as the boat grated along the side, I stepped forth into the main cabin, and sat down to wait. To my surprise and relief, it was Broussard who came down the companion stairs, driving the steward before him.

"Vat for you loaf, hey!" he snapped fiercely. "By Gar, I teach you. I work four—seek—hour an' nodding to eat. You say ze Capitaine send you; bah! eet vas not so—nevaire! Vat you hav'—hey?"

The negro mumbled something through thick lips, and the irate mate gripped him by the collar of his jacket, shaking the fellow as he might a dog, and hurling him half across the deck.

"Sacre! I keel you for five cent. Queek now—jump! Put all on right way, by Gar, or I show you. Here you—ze brandy furst."

The steward slunk into the passage leading to the pantry, and the Creole, turning, saw me.

"Ah, M'sieur; I saw you not. Pardon ze roughness, but consider, no dinare, an' I been on deck seek hour; no sleep, no eat, only work. I lose ze tempair, M'sieur."

"That is not to be wondered at," I answered, affecting good humor. "Has the first mate been ashore?"

"Oui, M'sieur; asleep in the sun, I bet you. Bah! any man could watch the sea from the cliff. Dat job not need ze furst officer. Sacre! but 't is a dog's life at sea."

I nodded my head, too busily engaged with my own thoughts to give much consideration to his troubles. Still, this situation, as revealed by Broussard's complaints, would afford us a respite of at least four hours. If this was the Creole's watch below, then Herman would keep the deck. Even lying there at anchor those fellows would not leave the crew alone. There was too much at stake, and besides there must still remain a look-out ashore. However it was a relief to know that the German had nothing of importance to communicate to Henley, no occasion even to come below. Broussard sank back into a chair, watching the frightened negro hurry back and forth. At last, satisfied that everything available had been produced, the former strode across to the table, jerked out a chair, and waved his hand toward me in invitation to join him.

"The lazy dog! 'T is likely all you will get, M'sieur. Maybe you eat with me—hey? Or would you wait for ze Capitaine?"

"I 'll take pot-lunch with you, Broussard," I agreed genially, speaking loud enough so the negro would overhear. "I 've got to get accustomed to camp fare, and am hungry enough to begin. Besides, Captain Henley is laid up in his berth with a sick headache, and does n't wish to be disturbed. He told me to tell you, Louis."

"Yes, sah! Shall Ah make you sum coffee, sah? Massa Broussard he don't nebber drink none."

"Yes, and, by the way, Louis, take a lunch in to the lady; fix up something neat if you can, and let me know when it is ready. All right, Broussard, a nip of that brandy would help me."

He passed the bottle, and a clean glass across the table, watching me pour out the liquor with a sarcastic smile.

"You know ze Capitaine before, maybe?" he asked.

"No," I answered, wondering what he could be aiming at, but willing to give him a free rein. "Only since he tapped me on the head back in the cellar. However, he has been square with me, and seems to be a pretty good fellow."

"You think so—hey! Maybe so while he get you with heem. Den he ze devil. I know, M'sieur. I see heem for long while on ze ocean; zat whar' you fin' out."

I began eating slowly, exhibiting an indifference I was far from feeling, yet swiftly determining that no matter how much antagonism might exist between the two men, I would never trust the Creole. Still I might use him to advantage; induce him to talk freely under the spur.

"What has he done to you?" I asked carelessly.

"By Gar!—what!" firing up at the recollection. "Get out o' here, yer damn coon!" turning fiercely upon the steward, and then leaning across the table, lowering his voice, which yet trembled with passion. "Sacre, M'sieur, it was I do his dirty work five—seek—year. He no sailor, but I sail ze sheep for him—see? Tree, four time I sail ze sheep, an' he make ze money. Vat he geef me? Maybe one hundred ze month—bah! eet was to laugh. Zen he fin' zat Dutch hog, Herman, an' make of heem ze furst officer. He tell eet all me nice, fine, an' I tink maybe eet all right. You know he promise beeg profit—hey! an' I get ze monies. Oui, it sound good. But Herman big brute; he gif me ze ordaire, and I not like eet. I tells ze Capitaine, an' by Gar! he keep me tied up before ze port watch. You stan' zat, M'sieur?"

I shook my head, uncertain just what stand to take.

"Nevar!" he went on, barely pausing for breath. "I show ze damn half-breed; you vait, I git heem."

"What do you mean by half-breed, Broussard?" I questioned, surprised.

He laughed, but not pleasantly.

"He vas ze mongrel—sure; you know not zat? Sacre, I tell you zen. What you zink him, white man? Pah! you see hees mother—she mulatto. Ze damn dog!"

"How do you know that?"

"How I know! I tell you I sail with heem long while. He nevar tell, but I fin' eet out. I listen, I hear ze talk, but I say noddings, M'sieur. Vat I care while he treat me right? But now I show heem vat I know. He not lord eet over me ven ol' Sallie vas his mother—by Gar! no!"

"Sallie! You cannot mean that mulatto woman back on the plantation?"

"Sure, the ol' rip."

"Then his name is not Henley?"

"Why not, M'sieur? The ol' Judge was his father."

The whole thing came to me in a flash, as I stared across at the mate, who scarcely realized yet the revelation made. He was brooding over his wrongs, and how he was to be avenged.

"Good God!" I breathed, "so that 's the way of it!"

Broussard looked up, a cunning smile on his face. "By Gar, I forget," he said softly. "You vas after ze monies too, hey! Bah! eet make no difference vat you know. He haf you here all right, var' you keep still or—" and he drew the back of a knife across his throat. "I vonder he not keel you furst, M'sieur; maybe he use you, an' then, hav' you shot in ze South. Oui, zat be ze easy vay. Why you ever cum down, an' claim to be Philip Henley—hey?"

"That was all a mistake," I returned deliberately. "I came merely to look after his interest?"

"Interest! Why a dead man hav' interest?"

"Do you mean Philip Henley is dead?"

"You pretend not know? By Gar, eet queer. Vell, I tell you, M'sieur. Ze hole back ov ze picture; I lie there one night an' leesten, week, ten days ago. Ze Capitaine talk with Sallie. He hav' letter from North—one, two sheet paper—an' eet tell heem how eet all vas. Someone write heem—I link maybe Pierre Vonique who went way long time. No matter; vat he told was zat M'sieur Philip die—die queek frum accident. Nevah speak, an' when zey pick heem up, zar was noddin' in hees pocket. See, M'sieur! He vas robbed. Vonique he hear about eet, an' fin' ze body. No one know who ze man is, but Vonique know. To prove eet he send ze ring—ze signet ring—off ze finger. Zen he write, 'Look out, someone has ze papers. Watch who comes.' Zat vas true, M'sieur."

I hung on his words, fascinated, never doubting, the very thought of her freedom obscuring all else. It was only as he stopped speaking, and resumed his meal, that I gained control of my voice. The affair was clear enough now, except for some few corroborative details.

"And someone did come, Broussard?"

"Oui, damn queek—a fellow with a letter from Philip; eet was sign hees name, hees handwrite, appoint heem overseer."

"And what became of him?"

The Creole shrugged his shoulders.

"'T is not my business, M'sieur. He go way somewhere queek. Maybe he not like ze place."

The dead face of the bearded man in the rear room rose before me. But Broussard went on.

"Zen you came, M'sieur, 'long wiz ze girl. Ze Capitaine he laugh, eet was so easy. Why ze girl, M'sieur?"

"Philip Henley was married."

"Non, non, impossible; eet cannot be shown. 'T is not of ze record. Ze Capitaine not 'fraid any more; he just play wiz you like ze cat wiz ze mouse. He know Philip dead; he has ze proof, an' now he breaks ze will, an' gets ze monies. Ze damn dog rich now; zen he be more rich."

"Do you know an executor of the will named Neale—P. B. Neale?"

"Oui, M'sieur."

"Who is he? What does he look like?"

"He vas a planter two mile west Carrollton. I see heem maybe ten days ago—leetle short man wif bald head."

He poured out another drink of brandy, and, downing it, pushed back his chair.

"By Gar, I talk too mooch, maybe," he said, yawning. "But eet make no dif. Ze Capitaine he cop ze monies just ze same, an' eet better you know. Now I turn in an' sleep."

He crossed the cabin to his stateroom, and closed the door.



CHAPTER XXIX

UNDER WAY

The negro brought the girl's lunch on a tray, and I took it in to her, barely pausing long enough to speak a few encouraging words, for fear of some interruption. Then I sat down and watched while the remnants of our meal were being removed. Except for an occasional footstep on the deck above, and the swift movements of the steward, nothing interrupted my thoughts. After Louis had carried the last dishes into his pantry, and run the table up on its stanchions, he also disappeared, and in the silence I could hear the heavy breathing of the sleeping mate. For the first time I comprehended clearly the entire situation, and I could face it with understanding. Broussard's anger had served me well, and it never occurred to me to doubt this story, told under the inspiration of liquor. It dovetailed in with all I previously knew.

The facts were clear. Philip Henley was dead, killed while intoxicated, either accidentally, or for purposes of robbery. And he had been robbed when picked up by the police, nothing to identify him being found. Beyond doubt this half-breed brother had dispatched a man North to look him up—possibly to assassinate him if necessary. The fellow had either done the job, or been anticipated in his purpose. In either case he was present to identify the body, and had written at once, enclosing the signet ring as proof. That was the same ring we had round in the arbor, and which Viola had instantly recognized. And those men who had made a tool of me were the robbers. They had found papers and letters which opened before them this scheme of fraud; then, with his residence address, using his keys, they had learned everything necessary for the completion of their plans. A copy of the Judge's will must have been in Henley's possession, and, no doubt, some lawyer's letter, describing the situation, received since the departure of his wife. Apparently everything two clever crooks needed to know was in their possession. All they needed to do was pull the strings, using a figurehead to represent Philip Henley. That was the part for which I was chosen. They had to construct a lie in order to interest me, yet that was comparatively easy, and there was a strong probability of success but for peculiar conditions of which they could know nothing. The half-breed had never been mentioned; he was the monkey wrench thrown unexpectedly into their well-oiled machine. Yet, even without him, the reappearance of Philip Henley's wife was sufficient to cause disaster.

Philip Henley's wife! The magic of the words halted me. Then now, if all I had learned was true, she was his widow. What would that mean to me! The swift beating of my heart answered. As I sat there alone, in the silence I forgot everything save her, and my mind dwelt upon every word and look which had passed between us. These had been innocent enough, and yet, to my imagination, stimulated by this discovery, formed the basis of a dream of hope. I knew this, that however sincerely she might have once supposed she loved Henley, his neglect, cruelty, dissipation, had long ago driven all sentiment from her. Before we met, her girlhood affection had been utterly crushed and destroyed. Loyal, she was, and true to every tradition of her womanhood. No audacity, no boldness, could penetrate her reserve, or lower her self-respect. Before I knew who she was, when I had every reason to doubt and to question, I was still restrained by an invisible personality which kept me helpless. It was to guard his interest, not her own, that she had accompanied me on this expedition, risking her good name in the belief that he was unable to care for his own. What would she do now? how would she feel toward me? What change would it make in the friendly relationship between us? I longed to tell her, and yet shrunk from the task. She could not fail to know how much I cared; careful as I had been in word and action, yet a dozen times had my eyes revealed the secret. I had seen her draw back from me, half afraid, had her restrain me by a gesture, or a word. This could be done no longer—we were free now, I to speak, she to listen, but I could only guess the result. Back behind the rare depth of those eyes her heart was hidden, and thus far I had probed for its secret in vain.

The sunlight streaming in through the upper transom told me the sun was dipping into the west. If we were to get away when night came there were many things to consider first; especially was I obsessed now with a desire to overhaul the Captain's papers, and secure those which would be of benefit. We must possess more proof than the garrulous talk of the second mate, and surely that proof would be discovered in the after cabin. The noise of the steward's dish-washing had ceased, and cautious investigation discovered him sound asleep, curled up like a dog, on the deck. Assured as to this, I ventured up the companion stairs, and indulged in a glance forward. Except for a group of sailors doing some sail patching in the shade of the charthouse, no one was visible. The vessel rocked gently, and far forward there was a sound of hammering. The mate would be there, overseeing the job whatever it might be. There was a dark cloud overshadowing the eastern horizon, with zigzag flashes of lightning showing along its edge, but the sea was barely rippled. There was no sign of any boat along the beach of the cove, and the fishermen had disappeared, not a glimmer of white sail showing above the waters. Surely no better opportunity than this could be given.

I stole back, silent and unobserved, listened an instant to Broussard's steady breathing, then unlocked the Captain's door, and entered his cabin. His wicked eyes, blazing with hate, glared at me as I approached, and, inspired by some sudden feeling of sympathy, I bent over, and removed the gag from his mouth. The result was an outburst of profanity, bristling with threats, but these as instantly ceased as I picked up the cloth again.

"It's just as you please," I said soberly. "Either lie quiet, or have this back—it's up to you."

"Do you mean to kill me?"

"Not unless I have to, but I hold some things more valuable than your life. Just at present I mean to look over your papers."

He must have realized I was beyond playing with, and impervious to threats, for he lay quiet, but with glaring eyes following my every movement, as I threw open the drawers of the desk, and began handling their contents. For some time I discovered nothing of special interest, only an accumulation of business letters, manifests and old sea charts, showing that the Sea Gull had been concerned in a vast variety of enterprises. It was only after I had thus emptied the unfastened drawers that I came upon one securely locked. I tried key after key before discovering the right one, realizing from Henley's squirming that I must be drawing near the goal. The first paper touched was a copy of the will, and a little further rummaging put me into possession of various documents which, I believed from a cursory glance at their contents, were of utmost value. These I hastily transferred to my coat pocket, making sure I had the original letter descriptive of Philip Henley's death, as well as the copy of a memorandum which the half-breed had evidently drawn up for the convenience of his lawyers. I ran through this last swiftly, surprised at its frankness, and convinced that the attorneys employed must be as great rascals as the man who commanded their services. Evidently they had requested full particulars so as to be prepared for any emergency.

I presume this search, swift as I endeavored to conduct it, occupied fully a half hour, every nerve strained by fear of interruption. However, I could not desist until I had handled every scrap of paper, and the result well repaid the risk. Once I heard steps above on the deck, but, so far as I knew, no one entered the outer cabin.

"I think I've got your number," I said finally, wheeling about to look at him.

"You 've got to get away first," he sneered defiantly, "and you 'll not find that so easy. My turn will come yet, you spy, and then you 'll learn how I bite."

I laughed, feeling no mercy.

"All in good time, friend; I think you have had your innings; now it's mine. So you are Charles Henley?"

He did not answer.

"The illegitimate son of Judge Henley and a negro mother. That's a clever forgery, that paper of legal adoption, I admit. Must have had legal advice for that. What did you pay the lawyers?"

He stared at me with compressed lips.

"Not ready to confess yet? Well, you will be. By the way, who was that Pierre who wrote telling you of Philip's death? Not Vonique, was it?"

"You damn white devil!" he burst forth, tortured beyond resistance. "What do you know about him? Who told you?"

"You 'll learn it all soon enough."

"You 're a sneaking detective!"

"Oh, no, Henley; I 'm merely a man who drifted into this adventure blindly, but now I am going to fight it out for sake of the woman. It's a pity for you that you did n't tap me on the head a bit harder back in the cellar."

His teeth ground together savagely, and he burst into a string of oaths.

"That's enough," and I got to my feet. "I see I 'll have to gag you again."

"Where 's the steward?"

"Asleep in the pantry when I came in here."

"And Herman—has n't he got on board yet?"

"Oh, yes; two hours, or more, ago. He has the deck watch, while the Creole is below. Anything else you desire explained?"

"You think you 're smart, but you 'll sing a different song before I 'm through," he snarled. "I 'm hungry, and I want to know why that Dutchman did n't come down here and report."

"You 'll have to stand the hunger for awhile. As to Herman, I suppose he had nothing to tell. Well, I 've wasted time enough."

I replaced the gag, and took a survey of the cabin to make sure all was secure. Uncomfortable as the man was, he was not in the slightest danger, and I felt little tenderness. He would not remain long undiscovered after we got away, and our only possible safety required harsh methods. Nothing had occurred in the outer cabin during my absence, but the growing shadows evidenced the approach of twilight. In those waters night came quickly. Locking the Captain's door, I entered my own stateroom, and sat down on the lower berth to wait, leaving my door slightly ajar. The cabin grew constantly darker, although outside, through the open port, I could still distinguish gleams of light along the water surface, and the heights of the island. Herman came down, and entered his stateroom, but without closing the door. He remained but a moment, or two, and then hurried back on deck. Suddenly a gust of wind blew in through the port, and it began to rain gently, but in huge drops. Far away was the rumble of thunder, echoing across the open sea. The storm was evidently coming up slowly from the east, as all the western sky was clear, and streaked with golden red.

Then a sailor—I thought he was Peters, but could not tell—came shuffling down the companion stairs, his oilskins rustling, and pounded on the second mate's door.

"All hands, Mr. Broussard!"

There was a muffled response, and the Creole, buttoning his jacket as he passed, followed the other on deck. A moment later I heard the slow throb of the engines, and glanced out to note the shore-line slipping past into the gloom. The Sea Gull was under way.



CHAPTER XXX

WE MAKE THE EFFORT

It would be some time yet—fifteen or twenty minutes at the best—before I dared attempt to carry out my plan of escape. In spite of the overspreading cloud, and steady rainfall, daylight lingered in the west, and a spectral glow hung above the ocean. It was a peculiar, almost ghastly light, yet of sufficient intensity to render objects visible for a considerable distance. However, there were preliminaries to be attended to, and I was eager to be busy.

The steward had aroused from his nap, and I watched him lower the table, and spread it with a white cloth. Now the distant clatter of dishes proved him to be in the pantry. He could be dealt with there even to better advantage than in the cabin, and, noncombatant as he undoubtedly was, I felt it safer to place him beyond power to create any alarm. The task confronting me was far too serious to leave our rear unguarded. I slipped silently along the short passageway, and, watching his back closely, investigated the lock on the pantry door. It was of the spring variety, easily set to fasten, and could not be operated from the inside. As I pressed in the catch there was a clicking sound, which caused the negro to turn around, the whites of his eyes gleaming oddly.

"Oh, my Lordy! I nebber heard you, Massa Craig. By golly, sah, dis yere niggah sure thought he was shot."

"Not yet, Louis," I replied quietly, standing in the opening, one hand still on the latch. "But it is just as well for you to be serious about it—I 've got the weapon all right—see," and I pushed the revolver butt forward into his range of vision. "I don't mean to hurt you so long as you keep still."

"What—what you a-goin' fer to do, sah?"

"Get away from this ship if I can, and you are going to help by remaining right where you are, boy. First, what's in that small boat, hung to davits astern—provisions, I mean?"

His teeth chattered so he could hardly answer, but finally words came through his lips.

"Thar 's a breaker of fresh water, an'—an' a package o' sea-biscuit, sah. Ah—Ah reckon that's all."

"Good; do you happen to know how far we are away from the main coast?"

"A a-bout thirty-five mile, sah."

"Florida?"

"Yes, sah."

"What is the nearest town?"

"Ah—Ah reckon it would likely be Carlos, sah, but it don't 'mount ter much."

"Can you tell me the compass point?"

He scratched his head, his confidence that he was not going to be hurt returning, as I questioned him.

"Wal', sah, I ain't no sailor man myself—no, sah; but de second mate he done point it out dis mohnin' when Ah was on deck, an' he say it lay nor'east by east, sah. Ah members dat distinctly."

"That will be all, Louis. Now listen to me. I am going to shut this door, and lock you in. I 'll be on board here for an hour yet, and if you utter so much as a whimper I 'll come down here, and fill you full of lead. Are you going to keep still?"

"Ah—Ah sure am, sah; my Lordy! Ah don't want fer to be no dead niggah."

"Well, you will be if I hear a peep out of you."

I closed the door, testing it before turning away, smiling grimly to myself at recollection of those white eyeballs glaring at me through the gloom. Louis was evidently not the stuff of which martyrs are made.

There was a small tell-tale compass fastened to a beam over the table. I unscrewed this without difficulty, and dropped it into my pocket. It would be a dark night with that cloud shutting out the sky, with probably not a shore light visible. Then I climbed the companion stairs to take a survey of the deck. As the cabin lights had none of them been lit, I could stand in the shadow of the hood without fear of being seen, and my eyes, accustomed to the slow approach of darkness, could see fairly well. No attempt had been made to spread sail, although doubtless a closely reefed jib helped to steady the vessel, which was advancing steadily under medium engine power. Quietness, and secrecy was clearly the aim sought, for the stacks discharged only a faint haze of smoke, instantly disappearing into the cloud mass above, while the sound of the revolving screws was scarcely discernible. Nevertheless we were slipping through the water at fair rate of speed, leaving a very perceptible wake astern. Judging from our present progress the Sea Gull would prove herself a clipper once under full steam. The open decks glistened with water, although the rainfall was light and intermittent; thunder rumbled to the northward, with occasional flashes of lightning. Even as I stood there, staring forward, endeavoring to make out certain objects in the gloom, the overhanging cloud seemed to close in across the western sky, instantly plunging us into night. Like a spectral ship we swept through the slight smother, gently lifted by the long swell, without a light burning fore or aft. I heard no movement of men, no voice shouting orders, yet before that last gleam faded, I had seen outlined several figures on the bridge. To better assure myself that no watch was upon the after deck, I circled the cabin, and then, crouching in the shadow of the rail, advanced even with the chart-house. From this point I could distinguish voices in conversation, but the forms of the men could not be discerned. Still, without accurately locating them, I had ascertained all I required to know, and made my way back along the slippery deck. All hands were on duty forward, and would be held there for a time, at least, while the Sea Gull was slipping through the danger zone. But supper had not been served, and one of the watches might be piped down at any moment. This would bring one of the mates aft to the cabin.

Driven by the thought, I rapped softly on her door, and she came forth instantly, fully dressed.

"You are ready?"

"Yes."

"You 'll need a waterproof of some kind—it's raining outside. Wait a moment; there will be a coat in some of these staterooms."

I found one, a fisherman's slicker, and wrapped her in it. It was a world too big, but I tightened the belt, and turned up the skirts, so she managed to walk. It would serve to keep her dry, although worn under indignant protest.

"Oh, I can't," she proclaimed. "Why, I must be a perfect fright."

"Not to me; besides, it's dark as Erebus. Here, let me take your hand; I know every step of the way."

I led her forward slowly, so that the flapping of the oilskins against the stair-rail would not be heard. The steady patter of rain on the deck planks drowned what little noise we made, and as we emerged into the hood a gust of wind drove the moisture into our faces. I could feel my heart thump, yet it was more because of her proximity than any excitement of adventure. So far as I could perceive, peering out into the storm with hand shading my eyes, the way was clear, and, bidding her stoop low, we slipped back along the narrow deck passage into the shadow cast by the boat. Here, protected as we were by the bulge of the cabin, there was slight probability of our being observed, and I stood up, again examining the tackle to reassure myself of its proper working. I even tested the boat's weight in sudden fear lest I could not hold it alone. Then I whispered to the shapeless form crouched beside me.

"Now," I said, "step on my knee, and I 'll help you over. Don't hurry—only be quiet."

"How can I with this ridiculous thing on?"

"You must try. That's it; now just let me lift you—steady yourself with the tackle."

She peered back at me over the side of the boat, her hair shining with moisture.

"Now are you coming?"

"No; I shall have to remain here and lower the boat."

"But I don't know what to do."

"Listen, and I 'll tell you. Turn about and face the stern. Yes, that is the way I mean; keep your hand on that rope so as not to make a mistake. Now take this knife; don't drop it. The moment the boat touches the water—an instant before, if possible—cut the rope you have hold on. Then hurry forward and cut the other. You understand?"

"I—I think so; I am to cut this first and then the other."

"Yes; now don't fail. You see we are launching this boat above the screw. There is bound to be suction. If you cut as I say, you will drift off bow on to the course of the vessel, and will float free; otherwise the boat is likely to be swamped. You see what I mean?"

She nodded.

"The quicker you can get to that second rope," I added seriously, "the better your chances."

"Then I 'll get out of these oilskins," and she struggled out of them, with every semblance of relief, tucking the bundle out of sight. "I don't care if I get wet. But—but, what are you going to do?"

"Jump for it, as soon as you are fairly afloat. I 'll be aboard before you know it. Are you ready?"

She was looking forward, and her hand gripped mine. Her failure to answer, and the sudden pressure of fingers, was a warning of danger. I glanced back across my shoulder. In front of the cabin stood a man staring aft. His huge bulk, even in that darkness, told me it was Herman.



CHAPTER XXXI

THE OPEN BOAT

Following the first impulse of this alarming discovery I pressed her back into the boat, and crouched low myself behind the protection of the flag locker. The fellow might not have seen us. How still it was; only the swish of water astern, and the continuous patter of rain. The pounding of my heart was like that of a trip hammer, as I listened intently for any movement. For a long moment of suspense there was none; then I heard his heavy step on the deck, as he came slowly forward around the bulge of the cabin. The very manner of his advance told me his uncertainty; something had occurred to arouse suspicion—he had heard a noise, or seen a shadow—and was investigating curiously. He came up to the stern rail, standing still, a huge bulk in the gloom, his gaze on the swinging boat. Then, unsatisfied, he leaned forward, and began to explore with one hand. Apparently he touched something strange; the edge of her skirt it must have been, for there was a bit of cloth in the lifted fingers. Noiselessly I arose to my feet, planting myself firmly on the wet deck. There was but one means of escape now, and big as the fellow was, I must accept the chance. Another minute would mean discovery, and his bull voice would roar the length of the ship. He neither saw, nor heard me, his whole attention concentrated on the boat. Without warning, putting every ounce of strength into the blow, I struck, landing square on the chin. There was a smothered groan, and he collapsed, hurled back bodily, his arms flung up. I heard him thud against the rail, his great form bending to the shock, and then he went over, whirling through the air.

The result was so sudden, so unexpected, as to be all accomplished before I realized its possibility. I saw him go down, blindly clawing with his hands at the open air, and yet it was more a delirium than a reality. There was no splash, no cry, and I leaned over the rail, rubbing my bruised knuckles, and staring down into the black void where the fellow had disappeared, scarcely believing the truth of what I had actually witnessed.

"What is it?" she asked, her voice barely audible. "What has happened?"

Her voice seemed to recall me instantly, to restore my numbed faculties.

"Why, really I hardly know," I answered, yet stepping back to grip the ropes. "The fellow had hold of your dress, did n't he?"

"Yes, oh! I was so frightened, and—and then he jerked me horribly."

"That was when I hit him. I must have got the big brute just right. He fell back as if he had been pole-axed, crashed into the rail, and went overboard."

She looked down into the swirl beneath, clutching the edge of the boat with her hands.

"Is—is he down there—in the water? Do you—you suppose he is drowned?"

"I don't see what else he could be. I did n't mean to kill him; just to knock him out, but I don't believe he had any swim left by the time he hit the water."

"I—I cannot bear to think of it!"

"Now see here," I said, coming back to my senses. "This is all foolishness, and losing us time. I 'm not sorry he is out of the way; it was either his life or ours. He was a big, lawless brute, a murderer at heart, if he was n't in deed. Now there is all the more reason for us to hurry. Have you got the knife?"

"Yes."

"Then get hold of that stern rope; I am going to lower away."

She obeyed me, but it was mechanical, her eyes still fixed upon the water.

"Be quick now," I said sternly, and my hand pressed her shoulder. "Your life depends on your promptness."

I loosened the ropes, permitting them to run slowly through the blocks. There was no creaking, and I rejoiced at the ease with which I sustained the weight, as the boat descended. Slowly it sank below into the darkness, until it was merely a black, shapeless shadow outlined against the water. I felt the strain on my arms as the swell gripped its keel; then the stern swung free, and I knew she was scrambling forward, knife in hand, for the other rope. Almost before the boat could swing about, the second stay dangled, and all my straining eyes could perceive was a dark, indefinite shadow drifting out of sight astern. Without uttering a sound, or wasting a second, I dived from the rail. I came up to the surface, swishing the water from my eyes. Five fathoms away was the shapeless outline of the boat, tossing helplessly on the swell, the girl still in the bow, her very attitude bespeaking terror.

"It's all right," I called, loud enough for her to hear. "Throw out an oar on the left, and hold her. I 'll be there in a minute."

She heard me and understood, for with one sob of relief plainly audible in the still night, she shipped the oar. Weighted by sodden clothes even that short distance tested me, yet her efforts, small as they were, halted the boat's drift, and I made it, almost breathless, when I finally gripped the gunwale, and hung on to regain a measure of strength.

"Oh, thank God!" she exclaimed, staring at me, "I—I thought you were lost."

"My clothes are like lead," I panted. "They dragged me down twice. That's over with now."

"But—but what could I have done if you had not come!"

"Don't think of it; the danger is all over. You need n't pull on the oar; just hold it straight out; that will keep the boat's head forward."

"Can you get over the side?"

"In a moment—-yes; as soon as I get my breath back. Did you notice any alarm on board the Sea Gull?"

She shaded her eyes with one hand, holding the heavy oar against her body, and looked ahead.

"No; I was not thinking about that—only of your danger, and my awful position. I was never so frightened before."

"Can you still see the vessel?"

"Just a shadow against the sky. I—I think she is moving straight ahead."

"Then we have not been missed, nor the mate. Doubtless he was going below for his supper. Now lean well over to port—yes, the left—and balance the boat; I am going to climb in."

With a struggle, I made it, rolling over the low gunwale, the water draining from me into a pool at the bottom, the slight chill of the night air making me shiver. It was not raining now, although there was a vapory mist in the atmosphere, almost a drizzle. I sat up, and touched her hand where it grasped the oar.

"You are a fine brave girl," I said sincerely, unable to restrain my admiration.

She dropped her head, and began to sob.

"Oh, no, no! I am not," she replied, tremblingly. "I am such a coward. You cannot know the terror I have felt."

"That is the test of courage; you faced peril realizing all you risked. Not one in a thousand would have done as well."

"You—you really think so?" and she glanced toward me, "or are you merely seeking to encourage me? But you are soaking wet, and must be cold."

"A little damp—yes," and I laughed, stretching my limbs, "but there is plenty to do now to keep me warm. Where is the Sea Gull? I hardly know in which direction to look."

She pointed over the port bow, and, with an effort, I managed to make out, through the misty gloom, a faint shadow against the sky. Not a light was visible, nor could I decipher any real outline of the vessel. Even as I stared in uncertainty this dim spectral shade vanished, swallowed up in the night.

"Why," she said, "it is gone now; I cannot see it at all any more."

"The best luck that could happen to us. Now we will widen the stretch of water as much as possible." I leaned over, and clawed about until I found the discarded oilskins, and wrapped them about her, despite protests.

"No, not another word, young lady. I shall have to work and cannot be bothered with such things, while you must sit there and hold that oar until we have some sail spread. This mist is as bad as rain; your jacket is soaked already. Have n't you learned yet to obey your captain's orders?"

"I was never very good at that."

"Obeying, you mean? Well, you have no choice now. Hold steady while I step the mast."

Fortunately the spar was not a heavy one. Except for the roll of the boat I could have handled it alone, but fearful of capsizing, I lashed the oar into position, and she helped me steady it down until it rested solidly in the socket. Our eyes met.

"You are not so frightened now."

"Not when I am busy; it—it was being left alone, and—and thought of that drowned man."

"Of course, but my being here makes a difference?"

"Always," she confessed frankly. "Somehow I can never be afraid with you. But—but what shall we do now?"

"I hardly know what to put you at—oh, yes, here is a tin, and you can bail out this water sloshing about in the bottom. That will be valuable service."

"What will you do?"

"Rig up the sail the best I can in the dark; there is breeze enough to give us some headway, and ship the rudder."

"Do you know which direction to steer?"

"Not now, but I have a compass in my pocket; a northeast course would be sure to bring us to the coast, and towns are scattered along. I found that out from Broussard yesterday."

She made no response, bending over with the tin dipper, and I went at my task, straightening out ropes so they would work easily through the blocks. In spite of the darkness I was not greatly hampered, as everything had been stored away in shipshape manner, and came conveniently to hand. The wind freshened perceptibly while I was thus engaged, veering into the southeast, so that all the cloth I dare spread was the jib and a closely reefed mainsail. The boat acted a bit cranky, but, confident she would stand up under this canvas, I crawled back to the tiller, eased off the sheet a trifle more, and waited results. We shipped a bucket full of water, and then settled into a good pace, a cream of surge along our port gunwale, and a white wake astern. The woman kept on bailing steadily, until the planks were dry, and then crept cautiously back to the thwart just in front of me, leaning over slightly to keep clear of the occasional flap of the sail.

I hoped she would speak, and thus afford me some excuse for telling what I had discovered on board the Sea Gull, but she sat there in silence, staring straight ahead into the ceaseless drizzle, her oilskins gathered tightly. Holding the tiller under my arm I unscrewed the face of the compass, and made a guess at our position. However, there was no star, or other mark of guidance, by which I could steer; only the wind, which apparently shifted in gusts, and I could merely hold the leaping craft in the course I deemed safest. I doubt if the eye penetrated twenty feet beyond the boat's rail, but we raced through the smother in a way that gave me a certain thrill of exultation. At least we were clear of the Sea Gull, and safe enough, unless a storm arose. With the return of daylight a course could be set for the coast, which would n't be far away. So I stared into the darkness, and waited, scarcely bold enough to break the silence.



CHAPTER XXXII

A TALK IN THE NIGHT

I wondered what awaited us ahead in that black mystery of waters; had they discovered yet our absence on board the Sea Gull? If so, what would Henley do? Knowing that I had rifled his desk, his one thought upon release would naturally be the recovery of the papers. Besides, smarting from his bonds, and thirsting for revenge, he would never permit the vessel to depart from these waters without an effort to overtake us. Private vengeance would outweigh all other considerations. God pity us if we ever fell into his clutches again. And there would be no doubt as to the manner of our escape—the trail left was a plain one. I could imagine the scene on board when the discovery of our escape was first made—the search for the missing mate, the discovery of the loss of the boat, the dangling ropes proving how it had been lowered. Then would follow an excited investigation below, revealing the steward locked into his pantry, and the raging captain tied and gagged in his berth. I could not forbear laughing to myself at the picture, and yet never was insensible to the danger still confronting us.

There was in my mind, now I had leisure to consider, no doubt as to what those on board that vessel would do. They would realize we were somewhat astern, and, in the hope of sighting us at daylight, would cruise back and forth in those immediate waters. Any moment the Sea Gull's sharp prow might loom up out of the black wall. As she carried no lights there would be no warning. It occurred to me that they would be more apt to take a course well in toward shore, anticipating I would endeavor to reach the protection of the coast under cover of darkness. Someone would discover the loss of the tell-tale compass, which would naturally confirm that suspicion. Convinced of this I steered more to the eastward, feeling of the face of the compass again to assure myself of the direction. I found even this small change an advantage in more ways than one, as the boat moved steadier, and I was able to spread a larger amount of canvas. Lashing the tiller, I crept forward and shook out an additional reef, hauling the ropes taut. By this time the wind had steadied into a brisk breeze, and the rain had ceased. Crawling back across the thwarts, I took the jumping tiller again into my hands, and held her nose to it, seeking every advantage. I had brought back with me a tin of biscuit from the bow locker, more as an excuse for opening conversation than from any feeling of hunger.

"It must be pretty close to midnight," I said finally. "Are you hungry?"

The shapeless form in the oilskins straightened slightly, and I knew she had turned her face toward me.

"Hungry! Oh, no; I had not thought of that."

"You have been crying?"

"Yes; it is so foolish, but I am so frightened out here in this little boat. The darkness, and that awful water has got upon my nerves. You—you must n't scold me."

"Of course not—I feel the weight myself," I replied kindly. "This experience is almost as new to me as to yourself. You must remember I am no sailor."

"Yet you understand boats; you know the sea."

"Only a little about small boats; I picked that up in the Philippines; but I have never had to rely entirely upon myself before."

"But you are not afraid?"

I laughed softly, hoping to reassure her.

"Not of those things which most affect you, at least. I can handle the boat all right in this sea and wind, while the darkness possesses no special terror."

"Nor the memory of that dead man float—floating somewhere yonder?"

"I have hardly thought about him. I have seen so many dead men in the past three years I have become hardened possibly. You must n't let your mind dwell on that grewsome incident. It was unavoidable, our only means of escape. His death was an accident."

"What is it then you are afraid of?"

I told her, dwelling upon our situation so far as I could understand it, and describing the change in my plans. She listened quietly, asking a question now and then, sitting erect, the oilskins thrown aside, and one hand grasping the boat's rail.

"What papers did you find in the desk?"

"Letters mostly, establishing the identity of the Captain."

"Who is he—really?"

"Charles Henley—Philip Henley's half brother by a negro mother. Did you ever hear of him?"

"No; I was never told there was such a man."

"I doubt if anyone, outside those immediately interested, ever knew the circumstances. Of course the family kept it a close secret. This is where the man had all the advantage. As soon as the Judge died he determined to represent himself as Philip, and claim the property.

"As Philip had been absent so long, no one could dispute successfully his claim to be that individual. He possessed ample evidence that he was the son of Judge Henley."

"But surely he would anticipate that my hus—Philip—would hear of his father's death?"

"He took the chance of getting the property into his hands first. As I understand the matter he possessed no knowledge that the Judge was in communication with Philip. He believed the latter had disappeared utterly, and would only learn of his inheritance through accident. To prevent this he dispatched a man North to discover him, if possible, and keep him under surveillance. He thought he had every avenue guarded."

"And—and you said his mother was a negress?"

"Yes—old Sallie."

"What! That awful creature!"

"Probably she was not that in her younger days."

"I cannot imagine such a thing. How did you learn this?"

"From Broussard first. They have been together for years, but I happened to discover the fellow when he was angry over a punishment. He talked more freely than he intended to do, and later I verified all he said by the letters found."

"Then, strange as it sounds, it is true?"

"Without doubt. Moreover," and I lowered my voice in sudden embarrassment, "within the last two weeks the Captain had received news from his agent in the North, which gave him fresh confidence. From his standpoint he no longer had any cause for fear from the chief source."

"What—what do you mean?"

"You will believe me? You will not think I manufacture this?"

"Certainly not:—but—but I do not understand."

"Well, the man reported that he had found trace of Philip Henley; he told of the life the man was leading, and where he lived. I think all this must have been immediately after your separation, as he mentioned no wife. However, he described something even more important."

"You must tell me," she burst forth, as I hesitated. "Don't be afraid to trust me with all you know."

"I am not afraid," I returned stoutly enough, "not in the sense you mean, at least, yet it is never easy to be the bearer of evil news."

"It is evil?"

"Misfortune, certainly. The man reported the death of your husband."

"His death! You are sure?"

I could hear her quick breathing, as she leaned forward, all attention riveted on me.

"Yes."

"You saw the report?"

"I have it with me; as soon as it becomes daylight you can read it yourself."

"Yes, but tell me now what he said; how it happened."

"The report was specific, and would seem to be true. He says that Philip Henley, while intoxicated, was struck and killed by an automobile. The date given was after you left him. His body was found by the police but his pockets had been rifled, and there were no marks of identification on his clothes. He was buried unknown, but the informant claimed to have visited the morgue, viewed the body, and states positively the dead man was Philip."

"And—and you think—tell me what you believe, Gordon Craig."

"There is but one conclusion to my mind. I have no doubt as to the entire truth of the story. The silence and disappearance of your husband is evidence that he is either dead, or, in some other way, helpless. The former explanation is the most probable, and, coupled with this fellow's statement, seems unquestionable. There would be no apparent reason why he should lie."

"No; there is none. I—I—really, I have thought this all the time; but about those others?"

"Vail and Neale, you mean? It seems to me they fit in exactly with the story. Everything had been removed from Philip's pockets, and all ordinary means of identification destroyed. There must have been a purpose in this, and it must have been done by a second party, as there is no suggestion of suicide. My theory is this—the body was either found by others before the police arrived, or else the automobile party which killed him paused long enough to ascertain the extent of his injuries. In either case his pockets were searched, and all contents removed. Do you comprehend what that would mean?"

"I—I think so; but tell me yourself."

"He certainly had papers with him dealing with his inheritance. To a shrewd, criminal mind they would be suggestive. He also, undoubtedly, had keys to his apartments. With these in their possession it would be comparatively easy for unscrupulous persons to ascertain the entire nature of the case, and secure all necessary documents. Then there would be nothing more needed except a man capable of passing himself off as Philip Henley."

"And Vail was not a lawyer," she asked breathlessly, "nor Neale one of the executors?"

"In my judgment the fellows merely took those names to impose upon me, to help bolster up their story, and make it appear probable. They were simply two crooks, willing to take a chance for a pot of money. I happened to be the one selected to pull their chestnuts out of the fire."

I saw her head sink into the support of her hands, and knew she was sobbing silently.



CHAPTER XXXIII

WE UNDERSTAND EACH OTHER

"You think my conclusions must be correct?" I could not refrain from asking.

"Yes; even without seeing the letter, but," and she glanced up quickly, "the ring—Philip's ring—we found?"