An Unexpected Catastrophe.
If Captain Dilke feared that the Swan would endeavor to escape, he was
entirely mistaken. As the two vessels drew near together, he was greatly
surprised to see Sandy and Shaky instead of Arno and Jason.
Sandy was at the tiller of the Swan and Martin held the wheel of the
Petrel.
Stifling his curiosity, Captain Dilke gave his orders, and soon the two
vessels lay side by side, Shaky making the sloop fast to the schooner.
Then Captain Dilke leaped on board the Swan, leaving Martin on the
Petrel, both vessels drifting with the wind.
"How did you come in possession of this craft?" demanded Captain Dilke,
striding aft to where Sandy stood.
The Scotchman made no answer, and Captain Dilke repeated his question.
At this moment some one grasped him by the arm, and, turning, he met the
angry gaze of Judith.
Vainly he strove to break away. Her arms were like bands of steel, and
pinioned his own close to his side.
Then he was thrown to the deck, a handkerchief tied over his mouth by
the Scotchman and his arms and legs bound with a stout cord, rendering
his struggles utterly useless.
After this he was half-dragged down the companion-way and left, lying
helpless, upon the cabin floor.
While this was transpiring on board the Swan, Shaky had boarded the
Petrel.
Martin greeted him surlily, as he came aft.
"What's the row on the sloop?" asked Martin. "I heard a scuffle of some
kind, but couldn't see what was going on from here."
"Nothing," replied Shaky, his grimacing and stammering having deserted
him entirely, "only a slight change in commanders. You are now under my
orders."
At this Martin flushed angrily and took a step toward the man who had
addressed him with so much confidence.
Then his face changed, his eyes dilated, his hands fell nervelessly by
his side. Fear took the place of anger.
"You are--it can't be," he gasped, staring into the face of the man
before him.
"You remember me, I see," replied the other, coolly. "They call me
Shaky; but you are right."
"Does Captain Dilke know who you are?" asked Martin, whose bearing was
now one of abject humility.
"Not yet; but he will know soon enough. Just at present he is in a
somewhat uncomfortable predicament. The last I saw of him, your wife and
Sandy were dragging him down into the cabin of the Swan."
At this Martin's face turned fairly livid.
"Is Judith on board?" he gasped. "I'll do anything you say, only be
merciful. It was so many years ago, and I have been sorry for it a
thousand times."
"I see you are quite repentant now," smiled the man, whom we will still
call Shaky. "Here comes your wife now. We had a long tramp through from
your home to Whiting, though she stood the journey as well as any of
us."
Martin looked up and saw Judith coming toward him, and he stood like a
guilty boy expecting the punishment which he knows he richly merits.
Judith came and stood beside the two men. Martin's eyes were cast down,
and she made a number of swift movements with her hands, which Shaky
answered in like manner. Then he turned to Martin.
"She wishes to know if you are willing to do as you are told. What
answer shall I make?"
"Tell her that I will obey orders," replied Martin, without looking up.
"I will not struggle against fate."
Shaky spelled this off rapidly with his fingers, and Judith smiled.
It was like a ray of sunlight breaking through a cloud, and illumined
the dark face wonderfully.
In a few moments the fastenings were cast off and the sloop and schooner
drifted apart, Sandy remaining on board the Swan, with the imprisoned
captain in the cabin and the two boys in the hold.
The Petrel at once bore away, with Martin at the wheel and Shaky in
command, Judith descending into the little caboose to prepare food.
The feelings of Captain Dilke, when he found himself alone in the cabin,
cannot be described. He struggled frantically with his bonds for a long
time, and at last succeeded in releasing one of his hands. It was now
only a question of time for him to free himself entirely, and soon he
found himself at liberty.
What should he do next? He knew that several hours had passed since he
had been thrust into the cabin, and that it was now night, for no light
came through the bull's-eye in the deck.
Groping his way cautiously up the companion-way, he tried the door. It
was fastened. And, even if it was unfastened, how could he escape the
men who stood guard on deck?
Then he bethought himself of the passageway under the cabin-floor. He
would wait till a late hour, and then endeavor to escape by that way.
Up to this time he had been so engrossed with thoughts of his own
freedom that he had quite forgotten the money which he believed the boys
had found. Now it came back to him with redoubled force. Long years of a
roving, reckless life had prepared him for almost every emergency.
Taking from his pocket a small folding lantern and a diminutive
spirit-lamp, he soon got it in working order.
All this time the Swan had been rocking on the waves, but suddenly there
was a shock, and then she lay quiet and still.
Patiently the prisoner waited. He heard the noise of feet upon the deck,
and then all was silent.
"They have landed, and quitted the vessel," he muttered. "Now is my time
to escape."
He struck a match and lighted his little lantern, looking at his watch
by its feeble rays. It was past ten o'clock.
As rapidly as possible he searched the cabin thoroughly--the berths, the
locker for food, and the bunker for wood.
Having satisfied himself that the money was not hidden in any of these,
he unfastened and raised the trap-door, and descended into the vacant
place below the floor. Almost creeping on his face, he moved along,
noticing at once that the ballast had been moved.
Then the corner of the sack in which the money had been placed caught
his eye, and he unfastened the iron bars and moved them to one side. His
breath came quick and heavy. He had found the money!
So intent was he in his searching that he had not noticed that the door
had closed in the cabin floor. In fact, the rattle of the iron bars as
he moved them had drowned the noise of its fall.
His greedy eyes devoured the pile of gold exposed to view, and his hands
trembled, and a feeling of suffocation came over him, as he strove to
put the sack in condition for removal.
This was finally accomplished, but his arms had grown so weak and
nerveless that he could not raise it. In striving to do so, he slipped
and crushed his little lantern, leaving himself in total darkness.