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 theSea Gullhad 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. TheSea Gullwas under way.
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 theSea Gullwould 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 theSea Gullwas 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.
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 theSea 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 theSea 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 theSea 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 theSea 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.
I wondered what awaited us ahead in that black mystery of waters; had they discovered yet our absence on board theSea 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 theSea Gull'ssharp 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.