CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
IF Florence had delayed her flight from Helsingfors a day longer, she would probably not have gone at all. At practically the same moment at which she arrived at St. Petersburg, Bill Wilkins left that city, having completed arrangements for the shipment of the gold.
He had found the task of finding a ship a difficult one. Ten tons of gold was not freight that would ordinarily be found in the possession of a man of Wilkins’s appearance, and the fact that he wanted to get it out of the country secretly was abundant proof that he had come by it illegally. To explain the true nature of the stuff he wanted to ship, was to risk arrest by the police on the one hand, and robbery and murder by those who aided him on the other.
Yet it was practically impossible to conceal the fact that it was gold with which he wished to escape. Its mere weight would almost inevitably betray its character, for it was not credible that he should be willing to pay the sum necessary to induce a captain to violate the laws and risk his ship in order to carry off a few tons of lead, which was about the only conceivable substance of approximately equal weight.
Gold, of course, might be so packed in boxes toolarge for it, as to conceal its relative weight, but the Wilkins brothers had no means at hand to enable them to do this.
Under these circumstances, it was not surprising that it took Wilkins practically all of the ten days he had supposed might be required to make his arrangements. He made them at last, however, with a villainous-looking captain, who drove a very hard bargain, and whom Wilkins suspected would turn robber if given the ghost of an opportunity. Neither he nor Tom, however, shrank from taking risks.
Meanwhile, Tom Wilkins had discovered Florence’s disappearance but had found himself helpless. Florence had taken the sloop’s only small boat, and Wilkins, unable to swim, found himself hopelessly marooned, unable to get ashore except by calling for aid. Although he had no nerves to speak of, and was ready at any time to fight his weight in wild-cats, even he found the situation appalling. Alone in a strange seaport, unable to speak a word of the language, under ban of the police, tied by the leg to a pile of gold, and deserted by his companions, a weaker man would have attempted to sail away despite his ignorance in regard to the management of the boat. But Tom Wilkins was not that sort. He would stick till the last minute.
Florence’s desertion was the hardest to bear. He really loved the girl, and he had almost persuaded himself that she loved him; believing this, he foundit very hard to conclude that her absence spelled treachery, as it obviously seemed to do. Rather, knowing how she chafed against the long confinement and remembering her hysterical fit of the night before, he clung to the hope that she had merely gone ashore and would soon be back.
But as the hours wore on and she did not return, he was forced to believe that she had deserted and perhaps betrayed him. He had taken her as a partner in his flight when he had expected to reach safety easily and quickly. If he had had any idea of what was before him, he would have gone without her and sent for her after the toil and danger of the adventure was over. But, having taken her, he expected her to stand by him, and to find that she was a “quitter,” the thing he despised most on earth, hurt him. According to his ideas, his own conduct in leaving the yacht was not “quitting,” but frank piracy, a thing which he by no means held in the same disesteem.
Bill’s arrival did not mend matters. Arriving at the shore, his sailor’s eyes quickly missed the dinghy that had trailed behind the sloop and he promptly hired a shore boat and had himself rowed out.
As he came alongside, Tom, who had been watching from below, came on deck to meet him, but showed no interest in the success of his errand.
Bill, however, did not notice the other’s moodiness.
“It’s all right, Tom,” he cried breathlessly. “It’s all right. Everything’s fixed, and we’ll be off assoon as it gets dark. I had a d——d hard time of it with them d——d nihilists on one side and the cops on the other. But I pulled it off at last. Where’s the liquor! Let’s splice the main brace on the strength of it.”
Without answering, Tom set out a bottle and watched the other drink. But he himself took nothing.
Such disrespect to the convenances roused Bill’s indignation. “What in h——l’s the matter with you?” he demanded. “Anybody’d think I’d brought bad news ’stead of tellin’ you I’d pulled the thing off.”
Still Tom did not answer, and the other stared at him with growing suspicion. “Where’s the dinghy?” he demanded suddenly. “And where’s that girl?”
Tom raised his heavy eyes. “Gone,” he responded briefly. “She took the boat and vamosed some time last night.”
“Gone! Gone!” Bill’s voice rose to a scream. “Gone where? After the cops? I always knowed it. I always told you she’d do us. The little hell cat. D—— her——”
A pair of sinewy hands closed round his throat, choking the words, and he felt himself shaken to and fro like a rat.
“That’ll do, Bill Wilkins,” grated a voice that he hardly recognized as his brother’s. “That’ll do. Don’t you orthogrify a word agin her. She’s playin’ for her own hand, same’s we are. You keep yourtongue off her.” With the last word the plainsman hurled the other across the cabin.
Bill picked himself up slowly. He fingered his throat, swallowed once or twice, and then came back to where Tom stood glowering.
“All right,” he mumbled. “I won’t say nothing against her. She’s an angel of light if you say so. But I reckon she’s sold us out, and I guess the peelers are coming for us right now. We’d better get a move on—unless you’d sooner stay here and get pulled so’s not to spoil her game.”
Tom quivered, but said nothing. Lifelong self-control was again in the ascendency. He knew the other was right, and he already repented his fury of a moment before.
“All right, Bill!” he said, almost calmly. “You’re right. Only don’t say nothing against her to me. I’m too plumb sore to stand it just now. We’ll go as soon as you say.”
“I say now. TheHaakon—she’s the steamer I’ve chartered—won’t be along till about dawn, but we’ve got to get out in the bay and wait for her. That little h—— —that is, them policeoffskis may be down on us any bloomin’ minute. The water’s quiet, and I guess we won’t swamp. Wait! Let’s look.”
The man broke off and ran up the ladder that led to the deck and poked his head above the combings. In a moment he turned, and Tom could see that his face was pale under its tan.
“—— —— ——!” he raged. “They’re comingnow. A dozen boats are starting out. Quick! We ain’t got a minute to lose.”
He vaulted up on the deck, followed by the plainsman.
“Here!” he yelled. “Get that anchor up. Quick! Then help me with the mainsail.”
He darted forward and grasped the jib halliards. The weight was almost too much for one man, but necessity lent strength, and by the time the anchor was on board the jib was up. Then the two men tailed on to the mainsail halliards and the big sail rose slowly to the peak.
“Make fast! Hurry! Them boats are getting near.”
Leaving the halliards to his brother, Bill sprang to the sheet, and drew aft the flapping sail, holding it with one hand against the bits, and grasping the helm with the other.
The sloop was moving now, slowly but surely. Behind her pulsed a distant outcry, borne hoarsely across the water. Bill glared backward over his shoulder. “Shout! Shout! D—— you!” he cried.
Tom was by his side now, sheeting home the mainsail. The sloop felt the added press, and with every movement gathered way. But in the lee of the shore the wind was light, and the boats, driven by sinewy arms, were coming fast, relentlessly cutting down the distance that intervened.
Bill glared back at them. “Shoot ’em, Tom,” he cried. “Shoot ’em! Why don’t you shoot?”
A grim smile curved the plainsman’s lips. Erect he stood, a revolver in either hand, balancing to the swaying boat. “Too far yet,” he muttered. “I ain’t got no cartridges to waste. This is only the overturnity; we’ll need ’em all when the main show begins. Besides, we’re holding even with them now.”
Indubitably the sloop was holding its own. With every foot she gained from the land, the breeze grew stronger. Soon the strip of water between her and the boats showed perceptibly larger and the hoarse cries grew fainter.
Tom lowered his pistols. “I guess we’re all right now,” he remarked comfortably.
Bill grunted. “All right as far as them boats counts,” he agreed. “But they’ll have steam launches and gunboats and torpedo-boats after us mighty soon, and then where’ll we be?”
“We won’t be in no jail,” returned his brother grimly. “I won’t, any way. I won’t be took. I always expected to cash in with my boots on, and I’m ready right now.”
“Same here—if I can’t help myself. But I reckon we’ve got a chance yet. They’ll be expectin’ us to run west and try to fetch Copenhagen, I reckon! But we’ll fool ’em. If we can get out of sight, we’ll run east and try to meet theHaakon. We’ve got to go east, any way. If we ran out into the Baltic, we’d swamp, sure, just as we would have the other day.”