CHAPTERXXIII.
The hour for our departure to our new home approached. Twilight, that period of indefinite length between darkness and daylight, was at hand. The sun had disappeared behind the western horizon for quite a time, and out a low cloudbank to the eastward, pale and cold as the Sargasson blood, rose the full moon, at first sight of which all the ship’s company cast themselves upon their knees and worshiped. For the sun the Sargassons felt no respect. They saw it rise and set without emotion. To them “Apollo and his fiery steeds” never drove across the sky; to them no regnant orb of fire ruled supreme the brotherhood of worlds. To them the moon, so pale, so cold, so self-possessed, was Mistress of the Universe.
Our departure was invested with even more solemnity than our reception. We were reconducted to the cabin at the bow of the ship, where we resumed our clothing. In place of the short jacket that I had worn I received, as a gift, a coat of sun-tanned walrus skin that incased my burly form without a wrinkle.
The barge, with all its men in place, was awaiting us at the ship’s side. I noticed at once that the paddlers were heavily armed. We descended, and were soon moving off along the shores of the tideless lake.
Before we had gone far, I observed that we were treated more deferentially than we had been on our upwardjourney. Nothing could have exceeded the respect shown us by the commander of the barge.
The effect of the pale moonlight upon the almost black surface of the Inland Sea was very striking. It made a path across the water as broad as a city thoroughfare, and, at the suggestion of Fidette, the man at the tiller kept our galley directly in this path of silver sheen. Our course lay eastward, and it was not until after midnight that we reached the outlet of the great lake. Although the coast line of floating sod was without any lighthouse or other marks of direction, the man who was directing the galley found no difficulty in entering the Grand Canal.
After the strange and curious events of the day, it was not remarkable that sleep should refuse to visit us.
Fidette and I were both suffering from the ghastly brand upon our shoulders, despite the attention which the surgeon on the ship of the Chief Kantoon had given us.
After midnight I fell into a troubled sleep, and did not awaken until broad daylight. Apparently, there was a strong current in our favor, because the oarsmen made very much better time returning than upon the upward journey. Although the Caribas was not in sight, I was able to recognize several landmarks.
A cold breakfast was served, consisting of baked shellfish and fruit, and we ate heartily. The men at the paddles had been fed about daylight, and had eaten as they worked.
The forenoon passed slowly. The sun was very warm, but the men never flagged in their steady and energetic stroke.
About 12 o’clock, as nearly as I could estimate, turning a sharp bend in the canal, the Caribas was descried straight ahead, distant about eight miles. I knew her instantly because of the excellent condition of her standing rigging. She was hull down, but I could notbe mistaken about her topmast. I pointed out our future home to Fidette, and, as I expected, she indulged in a very womanish bit of crying. It was in vain that I attempted to divert her thoughts and told her of all the future happiness in store for her in our new home. I called her attention to the fact that all the joys that had been hers on the Happy Shark were gone. I dwelt upon the fact that it had been her father’s wish that I should regain my ship. I spoke of its luxuries, its modern appliances, and in every way attempted to interest the dear little woman.
As we neared the Caribas, I detected our helmsman giving orders by signs, interjected with an occasional word that I did not understand. Although I called Fidette’s attention to the circumstance, she was quite as unable to comprehend the meaning of the helmsman’s conduct. Observing for myself, I saw that every man in the boat took out from its sheath and carefully examined a long, ugly-looking knife.
I feared that we were about to be assassinated.
With as much dignity as possible, I made my way to the stern of the boat and demanded an explanation of the officer.
He explained that he had special orders from the Chief Kantoon to place me in possession of my ship, and that he intended to do so. He expected opposition. The present captain of the Caribas was a plucky young man, who would fight. The contest would be apparently an uneven one, because the prize crew of the Caribas outnumbered the force in the galley two to one. He relied, however, upon the authority that was conferred upon him by the Chief Kantoon and the general respect for the ruler of the Sargassons. He believed that after he had publicly exhibited to the men on the Caribas the green tarpon scale, which would be recognized at once as a message from the Chief Kantoon, opposition would cease. The mutinous commander would be seized and promptly executed.
I felt regret at this summary disposal of my unknown rival. During the whole journey I had been attempting to conceive of some means by which his life might be spared. I hated to rise to power and influence over the dead body of a man who, I assumed, had never done me wrong, but I had not found any means of preventing the catastrophe. The will of the Chief Kantoon was law in Sargasso. Nobody, high or low, dared oppose it.
We were now within a cable’s length of my old ship. In prospect of the change of commanders, the hull had been scraped of barnacles, and the dear craft looked as neat as in her palmiest days. Excepting the man on the bridge, I saw no evidence of life on the ship.
We reached the landing stage, that had been erected for the occasion, and the young officer in charge of our boat’s crew fearlessly seized a dangling rope’s end and climbed over the ship’s side. He held in his teeth the talismanic tarpon scale. He knew, as I did, that it was his sole palladium of safety. Without it he would have been set upon the instant he touched the deck and cut to pieces. Close behind him followed twenty of the barge’s crew. There was no concealment of the knives. After the crew, we slowly ascended amid the cheers of the ten men still remaining in the barge. Before emerging over the top of the bulwarks I had listened attentively for the clashing of arms; but I heard nothing, and, when I reached the deck, I saw nothing. Four stalwart members of our boat’s crew stood there as guards, with the flesh-quivering knives in their hands.
In the after-cabin sat the late commander of the Caribas, tied in a chair, and as we were slowly conducted back, he turned his face in my direction.
To my surprise, I recognized the cause of all my trouble, Arthur Gray!