"I forgot to mention that. Its presence here alone is convincing. It was sent to Charles Henley by his agent, who claimed to have removed it from the finger of the dead man."

"Then every doubt is removed; the one killed was my hus—husband."

There was a long, painful silence, during which I stared out into the dark, mechanically guiding the boat, although every thought centered on her motionless figure. What should I say? how was I to approach her now? Before there had always been a frank spirit of comradeship between us; no reserve, no hesitancy in the exchange of confidences. But with this assurance of Philip Henley's death, everything was changed. I longed to go to her and pour out my sympathy, but some instinct held me back, held me wordless. I knew not what to say, or how any effort on my part would be received. Instantly there had been a barrier erected between us which she alone could lower. Those were long minutes I sat there, speechless, gazing straight ahead, my brain inert, my hand hard on the tiller. Suddenly, with a swift thrill which sent my blood leaping, I felt the soft touch of her fingers.

"Are you afraid to speak to me?" she asked, pleadingly. "Surely I have said nothing to anger you."

"No, it is not that," I returned in confusion, not knowing how to express the cause of my hesitancy. "I am sorry, and—and I sympathize with you, but I hardly know how to explain."

She was looking at me through the darkness; I was able to distinguish the white outline of her uplifted face.

"I am sorry—yes," very slowly, "but perhaps not as you suppose. It is hard to think of him as dead—killed so suddenly, without opportunity to think, or make any preparation. He—he was my husband under the law. That was all; he was no more. I do not believe I ever loved him—my marriage was but the adventure of a romantic girl; but if I once did, his subsequent abuse of me, his life of dissipation, obliterated long since every recollection of that love. He is to me scarcely more than a name, an unhappy memory. I told you that frankly when I believed him still alive. We were friends then, you and I, and I cannot conceive why his death should sever our friendship."

"Nor has it," I interposed instantly. "It was not indifference which silenced me. Rather it was the very strength of my feeling toward you. I was fearful of saying too much, of being too precipitate."

"You imagine I would fail to value your friendship at such a time?"

"Don't," I burst forth impetuously; "you talk of friendship when all my hope centers about another term. Surely you understand. I am a man sorely tempted, and dare not yield to temptation."

She drew her hand away from my clasp, yet the very movement seemed to express regret.

"You speak strangely."

"No, I do not; the words have been wrung from me. I am in no way ashamed, although I realize this is neither the time nor the place. Remember you have been under my protection ever since that night we met first on the streets; you are alone here with me now, but still under my protection. I cannot take advantage of your helpless condition, your utter loneliness. If I did I should never again be worthy of the name gentleman."

"I regret you should say this."

"No more than I do; the words have been wrung from me."

"And we are to be friends no longer? Is that your meaning?"

"You must answer that question," I replied gravely, "for it is beyond my power to decide."

Her head was again uplifted, and I knew she was endeavoring to see my face through the gloom. There was silence, the only sounds the slash of the boat through the water, and the slight flapping of the canvas.

"I am a woman," she said at last, "and we like to pretend to misunderstand, but I am not going to yield to that inclination. I do understand, and will answer frankly. We can never be friends as we were before."

My heart sank, and I felt a choke in my voice difficult to overcome.

"I was afraid it would be so."

"Yes," and both her hands were upon mine, "in our position we cannot afford to play at cross purposes. You have been loyal to me, even when every inducement was offered elsewhere. There was a moment when I almost doubted, but it was only for a moment. Then I seemed to sense your plan, your purpose, and from that time on I have trusted you more completely than ever before. This is confessing a great deal, for it is my nature to be reticent—I have always been hard to become acquainted with."

"I have not found you so; I feel as though I had known you always."

"That comes from the peculiarity of our first meeting, the unconventional manner in which we were brought together. I was not my natural self that night, nor have I ever been able since to feel toward you as I have in my relations with other men. Indeed I have been so frank spoken, so careless of social forms, as to make you question in your own mind my real womanhood."

"No; never that!" I protested.

"Oh, but you have," and she laughed softly, a faint trace of bitterness in the sound. "You need not deny, for I have read the truth in your face, yet without resentment. Why should you not, indeed? No man would wish his sister to take the chances I have with an absolute stranger. My only excuse is the seeming necessity, and the confidence I felt in my own strength of character. I permitted myself to come South with you, knowing your purpose to be an illegal one; I placed myself in a false position. In doing this I was actuated by two purposes; one was to save this property which had been willed to my husband by his father. Do you guess the other?"

"No," I said, impressed by the earnestness with which she was speaking. "You will tell me?"

"I mean to; the time has come when I should. It was that I might save you from a crime. You had been kind to me, sympathetic; I—I liked you very much, and I knew you did not understand; that you were being misled. I could not determine then where the fraud was, but I knew there was fraud, and that you would eventually become its victim."

"You cared that much for me?"

"Yes," she confessed frankly, "I did. I would never have told you so under ordinary conditions. But I can now, here, where we are—alone together in this boat." She paused, as though endeavoring to choose the proper words. "We both realize the changed relations between us."

I drew a quick, startled breath.

"That—that I love you!" the exclamation left my lips before I was aware.

"Yes," she said calmly. "I could not help that. At first I never deemed such a result of our friendship possible. I was Philip Henley's wife, and I gave this possible danger scarcely a thought. Indeed it did not seem a danger. While it is true he was husband in name only, yet I was wife forever. That is my religion. Now the conditions are all changed, instantly changed by his death."

"You believe then he is dead?"

"I am as sure of it as though I had seen his body. I feel it to be true." There was an instant of hesitation, while I waited breathlessly. "Do you understand now why because of the fact we can no longer remain friends?"

"Yes," I burst forth, "because you know how I have grown to feel toward you; you—you resent—"

"Have I said so?"

"No, not in words; that was not necessary, but I understand."

"Do you, indeed?"

I stared toward her, puzzled, bewildered, yet conscious that the hot blood was surging through my veins.

"You cannot mean the other?" I questioned, the swift words tripping over themselves in sudden eagerness. "That—that you love me?"

"And why not? Am I so different from other women?"

I held the tiller still with one hand, but the other arm was free, and I reached out, and drew her toward me. There was no resistance, no effort to break away. I could see her face uplifted, the wide-open eyes.

"Different! Yes; so vastly different, that I misunderstood everything. But now I know, and—and sweetheart, I love you, I love you."

It could not have been long, not to exceed a moment or two, when a sudden leaping of the boat brought us back to a realization of our position. As soon as I had regained control of the craft, I reached out again and touched her hand.

"This is all so strange, so unexpected, I can scarcely comprehend what has occurred."

"Strange, yes, in the way it has happened," she coincided. "But we cannot afford to dwell upon that now. We are in peril. Do you really know where we are? for what you are steering?"

"It is largely a guess; there is nothing to give me guidance, except as I unscrew the face of this compass and feel the needle."

"Then we may still be within view from the deck of the Sea Gull at daybreak?"

"Yes; that will depend entirely upon luck."

She turned away, and sat quiet, staring forward intently into the black void.

"What time is it now?"

"Nearly three."

"In two hours it will be dawn."

"Yes."

I thought I could see her clasp her hands together; then suddenly lean forward.

"Why, look there!" she exclaimed quickly. "See! to the right. Merciful Heavens! it is a ship!"



CHAPTER XXXIV

THE REVENUE CUTTER

The vision, indistinct in the gloom, was blotted out from me by the intervening sail. It was only as I leaned well to one side that I could distinguish the dim outlines. By that time we were almost upon it, and I could only sheer away to avoid collision. It was hard to determine the nature of the vessel, the sides looming so close above us, but it was not the Sea Gull. I was certain of that from the height of the rail, and the outline of a square foresail showing dimly against the sky. From poop to bow there was not a light visible, and the hull moved through the water like that of a spectral ship. Apparently we were unnoticed, and as the stretch of water widened slightly between us, I called out:

"Ahoy there! Take us aboard!"

I shouted twice, before a head popped over the rail, and stared down in apparent amazement.

"Hullo, the boat! Who are you? What do you want?"

"Small boat adrift; two passengers; throw us a rope."

"All right; standby!"

I could hear his voice up above, shouting orders; there was a rush of feet, and a rope's end fell within reach. The head bobbed over the rail again, and, a moment later I had helped her up a swaying boarding ladder, and felt the solid deck under my feet. The intense darkness puzzled me, not a gleam of light showing anywhere. Suddenly a hand touched my arm.

"This way, sir; help the lady aft—the deck is clear."

I could see nothing, barely the planks underfoot, yet there was nothing to do but obey, with his fingers gripping me.

"What kind of a boat is this?" she whispered.

"I 'm sure I don't know; not big enough for a passenger liner."

"The officer is in uniform."

"Are you sure?"

We were at the head of the companion stairs, and descended carefully, clinging to the rail. The officer, groping in the darkness, opened a door at the bottom, and hurried us into the lighted cabin. Facing us, one hand resting on the table, stood a short, sturdy man in uniform. Before I could speak, or do more than glance about the Interior, my eyes still blinded by the sudden blaze of light, he began questioning.

"Who are you? how did you come to be adrift in these waters? Answer up, sir—you 're no fisherman."

"We escaped from a vessel last evening, sir."

"Escaped! By Gad! are we in a state of war? What do you mean by escaped—run away?"

"Yes, sir," and I stepped aside so he could see her more clearly. "We were being held as prisoners."

His eyes flashed to her face, rested an instant, and then his cap was in his hand.

"I beg your pardon, young lady," he said gravely, "but this is all most strange. I could almost imagine this was a century or two earlier when pirates roamed these seas. You were prisoners you say, and escaped."

"Yes," I answered, before she could do so, "but you must pardon us details until we know who it is that questions us."

"Oh, exactly; you are unaware of the nature of this vessel."

"Yes, sir."

"Well, this is the revenue cutter Saline, which I have the honor to command."

I understood the situation in a flash, my heart leaping in fierce anticipation.

"Mr. Smith, assist the lady to a chair, and have the steward bring a glass of wine. Now, sir, are you ready to answer."

"I am; we were prisoners on board the Sea Gull. It is a long story, envolving a will, in which the master of that vessel was interested. We escaped in a small boat last evening, and have been floating about since."

"The Sea Gull? Do you remember the name, Mr. Smith?"

"No, sir; perhaps a description—"

"A schooner-rigged steam yacht," I explained briefly, "clearing from New Orleans for Santiago."

The two exchanged glances.

"I begin to see light," said the Captain calmly. "I think the Sea Gull must have originally sailed as the Mary Somers. Do you happen to know, sir, where she was really bound, and the nature of her cargo?"

"I do; Spanish Honduras, with munitions of war."

"Exactly, under command of a half-breed named Henley. By Gad, Smith, this sounds too good to be true."

He walked across the cabin twice, thinking, not even glancing up as he passed us. Suddenly he stopped, facing me.

"Where did he get you two?"

"In a bayou off the Alabama coast."

"And you got away last evening—how?"

"By imprisoning the Captain and steward below; I was obliged to knock the first mate overboard, but we were unseen by any others. Let me tell you the whole story; it will scarcely require five minutes."

He nodded his head, walking back and forth as I reviewed the events swiftly. I hardly think he asked so much as a single question, his eyes upon my face and then upon the face of the girl.

"A rather strange tale," he commented when I had concluded, "and, perhaps, the whole is not told. However that is none of my affair. Now listen; this is a revenue cutter. We were ordered out of Pensacola four days ago to intercept this boat on which you two were prisoners. We have n't even sighted the vessel, and if we did would be perfectly helpless; as she can steam three knots to our one. Only some streak of wonderful good luck would ever enable us to capture her. I half believe you are the good luck, if you do what I suggest."

"What?" I asked. "I will be willing. Would you need Mrs. Henley also?"

"Yes," he turned to the officer who was still standing.

"How large was the boat, Mr. Smith?"

"Capable of transporting about fifteen, sir."

"Hardly enough; still I don't know; we could afford to take a chance. What crew did the Sea Gull carry?"

"I do not know how many were below, sir," I answered, beginning dimly to conceive his purpose. "I never saw to exceed a dozen on deck in a watch."

"Any evidence they were armed?"

"I know they were not; the officers carried weapons, but would never trust the crew."

"And only two officers remaining?"

"There may be an engineer, sir."

He pondered a moment, grave-faced, and silent.

"It is not a very complicated plan, but we will try It. I don't think Henley will leave these waters without an effort to recover his boat, and prisoners. He will want those papers, and revenge on Craig here. He has no warning that we are after him. I believe the fellow will cruise about in the same neighborhood until daylight. What do you say, Smith?"

"I agree with you, sir."

"Good; then all we have got to do is lay a trap; the boat's the trap."

"You mean conceal a squad of men in the bottom, and send it adrift again?"

"Exactly; lower the mast, as though Craig here had been unable to step it; or, better still, heave it overboard; the loss of weight will give room for another man. Then cover the lads over with the canvas. They will never suspect the ruse on the Sea Gull, or study it out through glasses. They 'll simply recognize their boat, and steer for it."

"The fighting odds will be pretty heavy, sir," said Smith soberly.

The Captain's smile lit up his stern features.

"I would not so consider if it was my privilege to be along," he replied. "We must trust to surprise, and get the crew below fastened down before an alarm is sounded on board. A dozen armed men ought to clear the decks. How do you look at the affair, Craig? Will the plan work?"

"I am not sure I understand exactly what is proposed, sir?"

"My thought is, that this man Henley will be sufficiently anxious to get hold of you two again, and regain those papers, so that he will steam about slowly all night, hoping to get sight of the missing boat at daylight. He has no means of knowing that the revenue officers are after him. If he sights us at daybreak, he 'll make a run, and show us a clean pair of heels. He 'd be hull down in five hours, for this is a slow old tub. Now what I propose is this," and the Captain counted off the points on his fingers. "There is about an hour of darkness left—sufficient to enable me to run this cutter in behind Cosmos Island safely out of sight. In the meanwhile we 'll dismantle that small boat a bit, slip a dozen good men under the canvas, and turn her adrift."

"And you wish me to go also?"

"Yes, if you will."

"And Mrs. Henley?"

"That would be the only way to allay suspicion on the Sea Gull."

I hesitated, half turning so as to look at her. Our eyes met, and she must have instantly read the question in mine, for she arose to her feet, and rested one hand on my arm.

"You wish to say yes?" she asked quietly. "You believe the plan will succeed?"

"It sounds feasible. I would gladly go myself, but I hesitate at exposing you; there will be fighting."

"But my being there is one of the requisites of success?"

"I suppose so. If you were not visible in the boat, they might suspicion the truth."

She glanced toward the waiting Captain, and then back into my face.

"Then I will go, of course," she said smilingly. "Let us not discuss it any more."

The Captain stepped forward, bowing, bare-headed.

"Most bravely spoken," he said soberly. "I owe you a debt, madam. Mr. Smith, have the boat prepared at once to carry out my idea."

"To leave the impression that an incompetent seaman had been in charge of it through the night, sir?"

"Exactly; the mast overboard, and the canvas stowed badly."

"Yes, sir, a big sheet."

"Bunch it so as to leave all the space possible; leave the jib set; it will help conceal the men. Send Lieutenant Hutton here."

"He will have command of the party?"

"Yes; let him pick his own men, and then report to me; arm them with a revolver apiece. Be lively about it."

He turned to us as Smith left the cabin.

"I cannot offer you much at this hour," he said genially, "but the boy has some hot coffee ready. Bring on what you have, Joe."



CHAPTER XXXV

THE DECK OF THE SEA GULL

The dawn broke gray and desolate, the vista of restless waters growing gradually wider, as the light spread out across the eastern sky. The clouds yet hung thick and low, yielding a ghastly aspect to the dawn, somberness to the picture of breaking waves tipped by flying vapors of mist. I sat at the tiller, grasping one of her hands in mine, and staring anxiously about the broadening circle. The boat in which we rode, while buoyant enough, still bore the outward appearance of a wreck, the broken stump of a mast barely showing sufficiently high to support the flapping jib, and the wet canvas of the mainsail completely concealing everything forward. The men were lying low, so completely hidden as to be invisible even to us, but the Lieutenant sat upright, with head above the mass of sail, and was scanning the sea with glasses. He was a resolute-looking fellow, with brown eyes, and a reddish tinge of hair. As he lowered the glasses a moment, I saw him glance back at us curiously.

"Had n't seen you before," he explained cordially enough. "Dark when we came over the side, you know. Bad morning."

"The fog is lifting. What is that black mass out there?"

"Cosmos Island," and he turned his lenses the other way. "The next ten minutes will give us a clear view."

I looked at her, noting how tired her eyes appeared in the gray light, although they smiled courageously.

"I wish you were not here," I whispered.

"Please do not say that. I—I really I wished to come. I do not think I could have let you go without me."

"But you are so tired—"

"No more than you, I am sure. Why, I have done nothing except to stay awake. You have had all the work and worry. It will not be long now."

"No; we shall know in a few minutes if the Sea Gull is standing by hunting us. If she shows up, you must do exactly as I say. You promise that?"

"Of course," and the clasp of her hand tightened. "You have no reason to doubt me."

The Lieutenant's eyes were on the widening sea line, and I bent down and pressed my lips to her bare arm. I glanced up again into flushed cheeks.

"It has been a great night," I said sincerely. "The one in all my life best worth living through."

"I almost believe you mean that."

"Don't you?"

"Can you not read my answer in my eyes?"

"Craig," exclaimed the Lieutenant suddenly, "that must be the fellow off there to port. Here, try the glasses—just where the cloud is lifting a bit."

I was some time gaining the proper focus, but when I once had the distant vessel caught fairly in the lens, I recognized her instantly.

"That's the Sea Gull, and, by heavens, they are keeping a sharp lookout on board. See! she is swinging on her heel already; they've sighted us."

He grasped the glass, and stared out through it in silence for several minutes. Then he thrust it into a pocket and settled back out of sight behind the canvas screen.

"You have called the turn," he said quietly, "and the dance is about to begin. Unship your rudder and let it go. Let them think you are wrecked, helpless to escape, and they will be more careless. You men there, loosen your guns, and be ready to scale a ship's side in a jiffy, but lie perfectly still until I give the word." He turned his head.

"You understand what you are to do, Craig, you and the lady?"

"I think so. We are to obey Henley's orders, and go on board."

"Yes, but do something as soon as you reach the deck to attract attention, and get them away from the rail. Try and get the lady as far astern as possible, for there is likely to be some fighting. Are you frightened, miss?"

"No," although her voice trembled from excitement. "You need not worry about me."

I caught the gleam of admiration in the Lieutenant's eyes as he looked at her, but almost instantly his thought centered on his own work.

"All right, then; I shall not wait for any signal. Now listen, men; these are my last orders. When I say go, get up any way you can, and hit the first man you see. Hit hard, but no shooting unless they use firearms. But fight like devils, and do it quick. They outnumber us three to one. Marston, you and Simms take the stoke hold and the forecastle. Keep those fellows below down with your revolvers. Shoot if you need to. The rest of you stick close to me. All clear, lads?"

"Aye, aye, sir," returned the muffled voices from beneath the canvas.

I unshipped the rudder, letting it disappear noiselessly beneath the waves, and the boat's head swung slowly around, and we drifted helplessly, the jib flapping. With our eyes on the approaching vessel we remained motionless in the stern, our hands clasped. The flush had faded from out her cheeks, yet once she turned toward me and smiled. Forward not so much as the twitch of a muscle revealed any other presence in the boat, the only visible thing a jumble of ropes and canvas, apparently dragged hastily from the water by inexperienced hands. The waves tossed us about so that any seaman would recognize instantly our predicament. The manner in which the jaunty Sea Gull bore down upon us was proof that those on board had already grasped the situation, and had no remaining suspicion of treachery. She was under steam, with no sail set, and the rapidly increasing light gave me a fairly clear view. In low monotone, without turning my head, I managed to convey my observations to the motionless officer.

"She 's heading straight toward us under low pressure. There are two men on the bridge, and a lookout on the bow. Now she 's swinging to port to bring up close. There 's a group at the rail near the starboard gangway. About ten, I should say. Can you see, Viola?"

"Twelve," she answered quietly, "and three forward. The third man at the rail is the Captain, and he has a glass."

"By George! you are right. I recognize the fellow now. Broussard is on the bridge. They expect no trouble, Lieutenant, and only have the regular watch on deck. They are getting too close for me to talk any more."

It was indeed a beautiful picture had we only been in a mind to enable us to enjoy the scene. The deserted ocean, rolling gray and dismal under the cloudy sky, white caps showing in every direction as our boat was flung helplessly aloft on the steady roll of the sea. The coast line was not visible from our elevation, and nothing broke the gray round of horizon but clouds of floating vapor, slowly drifting away before the sun, which was already yielding a faint crimson glow to the east. Behind us, probably two miles distant, arose the rough ridge of Cosmos Island, while bearing down upon us from the north, with a westward sheer sufficient to expose her beautiful lines, came the Sea Gull. Yet graceful, handsome as she appeared, my entire attention centered on the group of men at her rail. They were watching us intently, Henley with a glass at his eyes. Twice I saw him turn, and wave his hand to Broussard on the bridge, slightly altering the vessel's course, and once the sound of his voice echoed faintly across the intervening water.

It was quite evident that as yet he perceived nothing to arouse suspicion, for, with a swing like a hawk, the Sea Gull bore down upon us, the engines slowing, and then reversed. We were staring up into the faces that looked curiously down at us. Henley gripped a stay and swung himself to the rail; farther aft the negro steward hung over, his mouth wide open, grinning at the spectacle.

"Hard down!" yelled the Captain, motioning with one arm. "Plug her, man. Now you damned army hound," he called to me, "catch that rope, and make fast."

One of the hands flung the coil so that it fell at my feet, and I did as directed, as otherwise we would have been crushed under the vessel. As it drew taut, the boat swung in gently against the side of the Sea Gull. Above us Henley hung, leaning far enough out so he could look down.

"Now, you damn thief," he screamed, "it's my turn to play jailer. Come up, both of you."

"Just a moment, Captain Henley," I answered, rising to my feet. "If there is anyone to be punished I am the one; this woman had nothing to do with it."

"That 's for me to decide," he snarled, and whipped out a revolver. "I know how to handle both of you. Come, jump now, you dog, or you never will move again. Pass the girl up first, and be lively about it. Give them a hand there, Peters, and don't be too easy."

There was no excuse for delay; besides, those lads under the heavy canvas must be nearly smothered. With my arm about her I lifted her up to where Peters could reach down, and grasp her hand, and then followed as quickly as possible. Henley had swung down to the deck, and stood there, his men grouped about him, the revolver still in his hand. One glance at his face told me he was insane from rage, thinking only of revenge.

"Take the woman below," he snapped, his cruel teeth gleaming. "By God! she 'll get her lesson. Here, Louis, you damned nigger, don't you hear me? Lock her in, and bring me the key. I 'll handle this sniveling thief first. So you could n't run a boat, hey! Not so easy as it looked, was it, you dog. Thought we 'd be gone this morning, didn't you? You 'll find I 'm not quite as easy as all that. Now, by God! you 'll take your medicine!"

I still stood motionless, my back to the rail, letting him rave, but watching every movement. I knew the girl's eyes were on my face, although I did not venture to glance toward her, not even when the negro guided her aft through the ring of seamen. Yet this was the one thing I was waiting for, my heart beating fiercely, in fear lest the Lieutenant might give signal for attack too soon. I remember the faces about me, fierce, scowling faces, of men wild to lay hold upon me at the first word of command, yet it was Henley I looked at, measuring the distance between us, and watching the revolver in his hand. What did he mean to do? Kill me, or give me over into the hands of those merciless devils? All I could read in his eyes was hatred, exultation, consciousness of power. Suddenly he laughed, a sneering, cynical laugh, as though he thought me cringing before him in terror. The man judged me by himself, and believed me helpless.

"Hard luck, Craig—hey!" he began tauntingly. "Played with the wrong man, did n't you. Now I 've got the girl just as I want her, and as for you—Lord! but I 'll keep you to play with all the way to Honduras. It will be a pleasant voyage, my friend. Here, Masters, you and Peters stand by. Now, you robber, give me those papers."

I handed them out, watching closely. Peters stood at my right, one hand on my arm; the other fellow must have been behind me. Henley grasped the envelope, opening the flap to be sure of its contents. The movement caused him to lower the revolver, and avert his gaze, for just an instant. With one motion I flung Peters aside, and jammed a clinched fist into the Captain's face.



CHAPTER XXXVI

IN POSSESSION

Masters must have struck me at almost the same instant my fist landed on Henley, for we went down together, his revolver discharging, the flying bullet gouging my shoulder, burning the flesh like a red-hot wire. Yet I grappled him even as we crashed to the deck, but the fellow lay stunned, motionless as a dead man. Everything happened quicker than I can tell it; with such rapidity, indeed, that not a hand touched me. I could barely struggle up on one knee, dazed still by the stroke which had floored me, and glance about, when the blue-jackets came tumbling over the rail, and leaped at the astounded crew of the Sea Gull. It was a swift, short fight, the assailants having every advantage. I saw the Lieutenant, bare-handed, dash into the group, striking out left and right, his men at his heels. There was a volley of oaths, a thud of falling bodies, a sharp command, and the shrill pipe of a boatswain's whistle. Two men rushed forward, the first disappearing behind the chart-house. The second encountered Broussard stepping off the bridge ladder, and hurled the fellow to the deck with one blow of a sledge-hammer fist. Scarcely pausing to see whether he was alive or not, the assailant ran on toward the forecastle.

The whole affair was over in two minutes, the blue-jackets circling out like a fan, and pressing their enemy into a helpless mass against the rail. For a moment the fight was furious, every man for himself, then the Lieutenant drove like a wedge into the bunch, and it was all over. I struggled to my feet, still viewing all through a mist, and swaying back and forward as I endeavored to steady myself on the rolling deck. There was no one at the wheel, and the bow of the Sea Gull was swinging slowly about.

"On to the bridge there, Coates, and hold up her head," sang out the officer. "Boatswain, take charge of these beauties, and run them into the forecastle. Leave two men on guard, and take a squint into the engine room. Report to me here."

He took off his coat, examined a long slit in its side where a vicious knife had ripped it from shoulder to tail; then slipped it on again, and watched his men drive their prisoners forward.

"I 'd like to know which one of them did that," he growled, glancing toward me. "Say, what 's the matter with you—shot? You 're white as a sheet of paper, man."

"I got one on the head with a belaying pin from the heft of it. The bullet touched me—here. Lord, how it burns."

"Who did the shooting?"

"Henley here," and I touched the fellow with my foot. "He fired just as I hit him."

The Lieutenant stepped forward and looked down into the upturned face.

"So that's the man!" he exclaimed. "We 've done a good day's work. I 've heard stories of that half-breed ever since we 've been on this coast. He must be a natural devil, but he 's played hide and seek with Uncle Sam for the last time. This will be a feather in the 'old man's' cap. He 's waking up."

Henley stirred as he spoke, and opened his eyes, staring up into my face, and then at the Lieutenant's uniform. The sight of the latter perplexed him.

"Who the hell are you?" he asked angrily, making an effort to rise. "Where is Broussard?"

"Henley," I said, stepping in between them, "the game is up, and the best thing you can do now is keep quiet. This gentleman is Lieutenant Hutton, of the Revenue Cutter Saline, and his men have the crew of the Sea Gull under hatches forward. Give me back those papers."



He had the envelope still clasped in his left hand, and he glanced at it dully, and then beyond me toward Hutton. Apparently his brain, yet numbed by the blow, failed to entirely comprehend. The Lieutenant, however, was a man of action. With grip on his collar he jerked the poor wretch to his feet, and held him there.

"Hand over those papers to Craig," he ordered shortly, "and be lively about it. I have n't anything to do with that affair, and I don't think you will have much more from now on. You are my prisoner, and you are good for a ten spot at least. Stand up, you coward." He forced him back against the rail, and glanced about the deck. The boatswain was coming aft.

"Well, Sloan, how did you find things?"

"All serene, sir; the whole crew bottled up, and mighty little fight left in them."

"The engine room?"

"The engineer was a bit ugly, sir, and had to be man-handled proper. He 's lyin' in a coal bunker with a sore head, cussin' blue. But the assistant is a young fellar, an' kin run the engines. I left him in charge with a couple o' lads lookin' after him."

"Who has the wheel?"

"Somers, sir."

"All right; have steam kept up, and make the course south, southeast. Send a couple of men here to get this boat on deck. Put all the fire-room fellows who won't work into the forecastle with the others. Here, take this man along also. He 's the Captain, but no better than the rest."

Henley started back, with some crazy hope of resistance, but the great fist of the boatswain gripped his collar.

"Come on, you," he said, jerking him savagely. "Yer bloody pirate; make another crack, an' I 'll land yer one. Is he that Henley, sir?" of the Lieutenant.

"Yes; ever hear of him?"

"Have I! Aye, many the time. He 's wanted in Galveston, sir, for somethin' worse than runnin' arms—it was a knifin' job, sir."

"And not the last either, if what Craig says is true. Take the fellow forward. Ah! there comes the Saline now—just poking her nose out from behind the ridge."

I looked as he pointed, clutching the recovered papers in my hands, and forgetful of Henley. The sun had discovered an opening in the cloud bank, and a long shaft of golden light played across the water, gleaming with white caps. Into its radiance the revenue cutter was gliding, outlined against the leafy shade of Cosmos Island, her flag standing out like a board in the fresh breeze, her cutwater churning up a mass of foam. She made a beautiful picture, one that fascinated me for the moment, and caused me to forget my own immediate incidents. I was brought back to a realization of the situation by Hutton's hand on my shoulder.

"Nice-looking old girl, but, like all of her sex, a gay deceiver. Slowest tub that ever floated a U. S. flag; any coal barge could get away from her in a fair wind. Take her half an hour now to get within hailing distance, and the old man raging to learn the news. How do you feel? still groggy?"

"All right, except for a stiff headache."

"Then come into the cabin. There is nothing more to do on deck, and I want to get sight of the ship's papers. Where was the fellow cleared for?"

"Santiago."

"And his cargo?"

"Miscellaneous; mostly farm machinery—worth investigating."

"I 'll have some of the boxes broken open, but will take a squint at the papers first. What became of the girl?"

"The steward took her below, and locked her in before the fracas started."

"I thought so; I heard a little of the talk, and hung back so as to give you plenty of time." He laughed, good-humoredly. "Nice little scrap, Craig; those fellows never even heard us, until I was over the rail. By the way, is the young lady married? I never heard the whole story."

"She is a widow," I replied, a bit stiffly, resenting his flippancy of tone. "She was the wife of this Henley's half brother, but I have every reason to believe he is dead."

He looked into my face, a glint of amusement in his eyes.

"Let us hope the good news is true," he said soberly. "Come, don't flare up, man; I recognize the symptoms. But don't you think she will be crying her pretty eyes out down below?"

We went down the companion stairs together, into a deserted cabin. No steward was in evidence, and, finding the Captain's stateroom locked, the Lieutenant kicked open the door, and entered. I turned back, explored the passage, and finally dragged Louis out from a dark corner of the pantry. That darky was plainly in a state of flunk, his legs trembling, and the whites of his eyes much in evidence.

"Oh, Lor', Massa Craig," he whined. "Ah ain't done nuthin', deed Ah ain't, sah!"

"You locked up the girl."

"Ah just had to, sah. Captain Henley he just nat'rally skin me alive, sah, if Ah don't. But Ah nebber hurt her none."

"Where is she?"

"In number five, sah; here—here am de key."

"All right, Louis," and I tossed him into one corner. "Now listen; set that table, and get some food on it quick. Make coffee, but don't wait for anything else."

"Yes, sah."

I crossed the cabin, and inserted the key. As the door opened she stood there waiting, her hands held out.



CHAPTER XXXVII

A HOMEWARD VOYAGE

"It—it is all over with? You have been successful?"

"Yes, don't worry," and I held her hands fast, looking into her eyes. "There can be no further trouble. Captain Henley and his crew are prisoners."

"And no one was hurt? You were not?"

"Oh, there are a few sore heads, but nothing serious. I got a crack myself; bled a little—see."

She placed her fingers on the wound, stroking the hair gently, her eyes full of anxiety.

"Is that all? Please tell me; I—I heard a shot fired."

"Henley's revolver; no damage done. Really you must accept my assurance. Come out into the cabin; Louis is getting breakfast ready."

"Where is the Lieutenant?" hesitating slightly.

"In Henley's cabin, going through the papers. He wants to have a full report ready when the Saline comes up. The three of us will breakfast together."

"You must permit me to wash the wound on your head first," she insisted. "The hair is all matted with blood. Please."

"Of course," and I laughed. "Even then I will not be very presentable; these clothes are frightful; the last week has been a strenuous one."

"What about me!" and she shot a look downward. "I 've only had the one dress."

"The marvel of it," I interrupted ardently. "You look as though you had just come from the dressing-table."

"You do not think so!"

"But I do; still, it may be a case where love is blind."

The fresh color swept into her cheeks.

"That is the only explanation possible, I am sure. See how the skirt is stained, and the lace ruffle is almost torn off."

"Oh, well, don't worry; the Lieutenant has lost his natty appearance also. Some villain slashed his coat its full length. However, I accept your offer."

She ministered to me with womanly gentleness, parting the matted hair, and cleansing the wound with water. While in no way serious it was an ugly bruise, and required considerable attention. Sitting there on a stool while she worked, I could hear Louis bustling about in the cabin, but my mind was busy with a thousand matters requiring settlement. At last I refused to be ministered to any longer, laughing at her desire to bandage my head, and insisting that all I needed now was breakfast. As we entered the cabin, the Lieutenant stood in Henley's door.

"I was looking for you, Craig," he said, coming forward, and bowing to my companion. "Here is a newspaper clipping which may be of interest. I found it on the deck."

I read it hastily, and, in silence handed it to her, watching her face as she read. It was a local item describing the finding of a dead body which could not be identified. The details of the man's appearance as well as the clothes worn were carefully depicted, evidently in hope someone might thus recognize the party. She remained with the bit of paper in her hands for what seemed a long while, while we waited. Then her eyes were slowly lifted to our faces.

"That was Philip Henley," she said soberly.

"You are sure?"

"There is no possibility of mistake; the description is almost photographic and the clothing I remember well."

"Your husband, madam?" asked the Lieutenant, as I remained silent.

"Yes; legally my husband, although he had driven me from him by dissipation and neglect. I—I cannot tell you the wretched story now."

"Nor do I ask it," he hastened to assure her. "What is it, Mapes?"

A blue-jacket stood at the foot of the stairs, one hand lifted in salute.

"The Saline, sir, is alongside, and hailing us. The boatswain sent me, sir."

We followed the two on deck, and, after one glance about, I led her around the bulge of the cabin to the narrow deck space astern. The boat in which we had escaped had been hoisted into its davits, and we halted in its shadow. The sea was gently rolling in great crested waves, with no land visible except Cosmos Island. The most of our crew must have been busy forward, as only three or four hung over the port rail in idle curiosity. The two vessels moved side by side, separated by a narrow stretch of green water, a thin vapor of smoke visible. I could perceive the whiteness of the Saline's deck, and the group of officers on the bridge. The Captain, facing us, hollowed his hands.

"What have you to report, Mr. Hutton?"

"The vessel is in our possession, sir, and the crew under guard below."

"Any injuries?"

"None serious, sir."

"And the Captain—the half-breed Henley; did you get him?"

"He 's with the others."

"Better put the fellow in irons, Hutton. There are some serious charges against him, you know. Have you men enough?"

"I could use a half dozen more."

"Very well; I 'll send them over with Mr. Steele."

"What is to be our course, sir?"

"Pensacola. Don't wait for us."

"Aye, aye, sir. Shall I hold Craig and the lady?"

"Not on this case; we have all the evidence needed. If you take their addresses that will be all that is necessary. Pleasant voyage!"

He waved his hand, and then, perceiving us as he turned away from the rail, lifted his cap in salute. A moment later a boat heavily manned shot out from the cutter's black side, and headed toward us. We stood there alone in the shadow, watching its approach.

"It is all over now, dear," I whispered.

"Yes, but—but I do not feel as though I could ever touch that money."

"You will have no choice. The courts will decide that."

She glanced aside at me shyly, and one hand rested on the rail of the boat.

"I know what I would like to do with some of it."

"What?"

"Buy this—this boat."

"In memory?"

"Of course—you loved me then."

"And now, and always. Do you know what is the first thing I shall do when we make Pensacola?"

"No."

I clasped the straying hand and drew her to me, looking down into her eyes.

"Telegraph my father I am coming home."

"Is that all?"

"And that I shall bring a wife with me. Right here I end my career as a soldier of fortune."

Under the protecting shadow of the boat our lips met.

THE END