hatch connected with the thick upright door, so that a single lock
sufficed for the cabin, which opened from the aft-deck. The still, deep
water of the cove drew Bedient's eyes constantly, and kept alive the
thought of his terrible thirst. The words of old Monkhouse repeated
often in his brain, "Ah, 'tis deep fathims under the _Savonarola_." He
slipped a little steel key from the ring, smiling because it was the
key to one of the Carreras cabinets at the _hacienda_, and placed it in
his mouth. He had done the same with a nail when in the small boat with
Carreras, the only boat that reached shore from the _Truxton_. It
started the saliva.
There was but one man in the cabin so far, as Bedient ascertained
through the ports,--a Chinese, and he was sweeping industriously. Miss
Mallory's idea that he steal in, while the boat was being provisioned,
seemed a far chance. He might have boarded the craft now, and surprised
the oriental in the cabin, but he had no grudge against him, and Rey's
Chinese were not purchasable. He thought of the forlorn last chance--to
creep back to the mouth of the Inlet where it was narrowest, and wait
on a sheltered ledge there for the _Savonarola_ to be ejected with
pikes from the crooked mouth. He might leap on the deck as she swung
around, but he would then have to face the whole party.
After an interminable period--it was past three in the afternoon--the
Chinese appeared from a cabin, and sat down on the low rail aft,
mopping his shaven head. "I don't wish you any harm, little yellow
man," Bedient thought, "but you'd be most accommodating if you would
fall into a faint for a minute or two----"
At this juncture, Bedient was startled by the clapping of hands from
somewhere up the winding steps toward _The Pleiad_. The Chinese leaped
up to listen for a repetition of the signal, which his kind answers the
world over. The hands were clapped again, and then the voice:
"Oh, Boy, won't you come up here for a moment? I'm afraid to climb down
all these steps alone with this big package. It must be put aboard for
to-night."
"The unparalleled genius----" Bedient breathed.
The Chinese understood, and stepped ashore quickly. Bedient began to
roll forward with the first movement of the boy. The red chalk mark
would hardly be needed. He had just torn his finger upon a thorn.
Seeing the blood rise, it occurred that one is never without a bit of
red. At the base of the bank he turned his eyes upward. The Chinese was
plodding up the stairs, the woman holding his mind occupied with words.
Bedient leaped across to the deck, and sank into the cabin of the
_Savonarola_. From the shaded roomy quarter then, he ventured a last
look. John Chinaman's broad back was still toward him, and Miss Mallory
was laughing. "How good of you!" she said to the boy. "The steps looked
so many and so rickety, and I was all alone. Here's a _peso_ for you.
We'll be aboard about six." She laughed again.
"What a bright light to shine upon a man!" Bedient thought, as he
covered his bleeding finger with a handkerchief, to avoid leaving a
trail in the spotless cabin. He moved forward toward the right
compartment, unsteadily; then entered and closed the door.
* * * * *
This was Adith Mallory's especial afternoon and evening. She was
emphatically alive. One of her dearest desires, and one which had long
seemed farthest from her, was to do some big thing for Andrew Bedient.
The plan was hers, every thought of it, and now she saw him safely
stored in the forecastle.
She tried to put away all thoughts of fear. The party, of which she was
the blithest,--ah, how she loved sailing!--stepped on board at six.
Framtree was brought to the meeting. Celestino Rey was beguiled from
his _Pleiad_ throne, and helped to a seat in this floating Elba. Here,
too, came the Sorensons and the Chinese--mob-stuff. There is a mob in
every drama--poor mob that always loses, of untimely arousings, mere
bewildered strength in the wiles of strategy. Poor undone mob--its head
always in the lap of Wit, to be shorn like Samson.... And the
Glow-worm--that incomparable female facing the South, her great yellow
smoldering eyes, filled with the dusky Southern Sea, and who knows what
lights and lovers of Buenos Aires, flitting across her dreams?... Had
there been absolute need for an ally, Miss Mallory could almost have
trusted the Señora.
"We didn't care to heat up the cabin from the galley," Señor Rey
declared as they descended for supper, "so I have had our repast
prepared at _The Pleiad_, save, of course, the coffee. You will not
miss for once the _entrée_, if the cold roast fowl is prime, I am sure.
There are compensations."
"Miss an _entrée_!" Miss Mallory exclaimed. "I could live a week on
pickles and lettuce-leaves, to stay at sea in such weather!"
"Astonishingly fine sailor is Miss Mallory," the Spaniard enthused.
"She talked ship with me like a pirate, and knew my _Savonarola_ from
boom to steering gear at a glance. You all must thank Miss Mallory for
our little excursion to-night."
The lady in question wondered if the forecastle-door were proof against
the voices in the cabin. She did not turn her eyes to it, but happened
to note that the Spaniard caught a glance from Jim Framtree, as he
spoke his last words; also that Framtree arose, looked aft from the
cabin doorway, and turned back with a smile. Miss Mallory followed his
eyes a moment later and discovered that Dictator Jaffier's gunboat had
moved. Steam was up; her nose was pointed their way; more still, she
was leisurely trailing! Señor Rey did not miss the American woman's
interest.
"The Dictator is always so good about giving the _Savonarola_ armed
convoy," he said.
Miss Mallory became deeply thoughtful, but roused herself, realizing it
did not become her in this company. She imagined that the great yellow
eyes of the Glow-worm were regarding her with queer contemplative
scrutiny. Sorenson felt the call to remark something, and the
_Savonarola_ was obvious.
"Fine little craft for a honeymoon," he observed, "that is, of course,
if the lady in question enjoyed sailing. It's amusing to picture some
women on a sailing-trip----"
"And some men on a honeymoon," added Miss Mallory.
This delighted Framtree.... Sorenson was rather a ponderous Slav with
languages. He was not accustomed to conserve his thirst until
dinner-time. Indeed, he had brought aboard on this occasion an
appreciation for sparkling refreshments, that had been assiduously
cultivated during the long day. Already Sorenson had endangered his
domestic peace, through attentions, delicate as you would expect from a
bear that walked like a man. These were directed toward the American
woman. She broke every shaft with unfailing humor, and girded her
repugnance as added strength for the End. There were moments she did
not relish. Strain settled with the darkening day. She thought of the
face she had seen at her carriage at noon--a tortured face--and what he
had passed through since, cramped in the forecastle! Perhaps he was
unconscious from the heat and the suffocating place--and from the
illness she could never understand.... But in Miss Mallory all these
thoughts and conditions drew upon as perfect a nervous organization as
could be found anywhere in these complicated days--and it was over at
last.
Sorenson and his wife followed her on deck after supper, the other
three tarrying below. There was no moon. The breeze abaft the beam was
a warm, steady pressure that coaxed a whispering of secrets from the
sails, and sent the willing craft forward with her bow down to work,
and a business-like list. One Chinese was serving below. The remaining
two were squatted aft by the wheel. Madame Sorenson took a chair on the
cabin-deck, amidship. Miss Mallory moved past her and forward. The
thought in her brain was: If Sorenson follows me now, anything that
should happen to him is his own fault. She carried playfully a heavy
cane, found in the cabin. Sorenson embraced his own disaster in joining
her.
"How enticing the water looks!" she observed.
"It does 'pon my word," said the Russian.
Each noted that the foresail hid the face of Madame Sorenson, although
her shoulders were expressive.... The look upon Sorenson's flushed
features held Miss Mallory true to her latest inspiration.
"You are a good swimmer?" she asked in a lowered tone, but carelessly.
"Ah, yes, there are many grand swimmers in my country among the coast
men."
"You must have been on shipboard a great deal, Mr. Sorenson.... One can
always tell by the way one acts on a small craft. Many are afraid at
first of the low gunwales on a yacht like this."
Miss Mallory felt the disgust of Madame Sorenson for them both; felt it
was deserved. "Ah, yes, Miss Mallory," he declared, delighted with her
and himself and the world.
He raised one foot to the railing, and his manner became all the more
at home, as he lifted his cigar with a flourish. "Like our host, I have
sailed many seas and not a few with him," he added.
He was standing close to the rail, directly over the forecastle. Miss
Mallory drew a step or two nearer, and announced, as if such a remark
had never been thought of:
"What a perfect little thing of her kind the _Savonarola_ is!... I
believe she is staunch enough to go anywhere.... Just listen how tight
and solid her planking is!"
She would have signaled that instant, but her approach had been
Sorenson's cue for a certain fond attention and endearment, which ended
in a briny obfuscation....
It had been such a little push, too. She tossed a lifering after him,
saw him come up and catch his stroke--as she tapped the deck with her
stick--the three doubles sharply....
And now a sunburst of small but striking events. Madame Sorenson had
not seen, but she launched a scream with the splash. The Chinese,
squatted aft, had not seen, but like good servants, with well-ordered
minds, they rushed from the wheel to the davits, and proceeded to get a
small boat into the water, a temperate thing to do with a man
overboard. Miss Mallory did not scream, so as to disturb anybody, but
hurried aft, urging the Chinese. "Both go!" she called. "He's such a
big man!"
The boat was launched. Sorenson was swimming--his oaths proved
that--but rapidly receding. The Glow-worm rushed out of the cabin,
Framtree following. The latter halted, however, at a sharp command of
the Spaniard. Then Miss Mallory heard Bedient's voice. It was not
lifted above the normal tone, and hoarse with thirst.
She craned her head forward from the wheel to peer into the cabin.
Bedient's face was like death. He did not even have a pistol in his
hand, but there was a look in his eyes she had never seen in any eyes
before, and he was smiling. The disturbance on deck, Bedient's face and
command, had held Rey and Framtree, but the former's hand now reached
toward his hip. Bedient caught it with an incredibly quick movement,
and took the gun from the Señor's pocket.
"Just to reduce tension to a minimum, Señor," he said.
The third Chinese opened the door from the galley, but a look and
gesture from Bedient sent him back, and the lock was turned upon him.
Bedient now placed the gun upon the table, and directed his attention
to Framtree.
"You made it rather hard for me to have a talk with you, my friend," he
said.
The place was terrible with strain....
There had been a moment, as the Spaniard's hand crept to his pocket, in
which Miss Mallory was powerless with fear, but she could not scream.
It was as if Bedient's eyes had held her, too. She watched the pistol
now. It was out of Key's reach, and he could not rise from a chair
without great difficulty. Framtree did not seem to be armed, for which
she was greatly attracted to him.... He had started to speak two or
three times, but found no words. The appearance of Bedient seemed to
have fascinated him for a moment, but now he managed to declare:
"It must have been the Chinese who turned, Señor.... Somebody went
overboard--I think Sorenson."
And not until now did Miss Mallory venture to take her eyes from the
cabin interior.... Madame Sorenson was fighting windmills of hysteria.
Far back there was a blotch in the darkness, and a curious blend of
sea-water, Russian and Chinese, as Sorenson was dragged into the boat;
back farther still the lights of Jaffier's gunboat.... And now she
found the Glow-worm staring at her, the big face drawing closer, and a
rising flame of hope in the strange eyes.
"What have you done, dearest?" she questioned softly.
"He could swim. He told me he could swim," Miss Mallory heard herself
repeating vaguely.
THIRTY-FIRST CHAPTER
THE GLOW-WORM'S ONE HOUR
Sorenson and the two Chinese were now eliminated. Señor Rey, disarmed,
was not a physical menace; third Chinese was locked in the galley; in a
sense Bedient and Framtree equalized; Madame Sorenson was having
trouble to overcome her own hysteria; and Adith Mallory uncovered no
hostility in the Glow-worm--quite the opposite. Framtree answered
Bedient:
"I suggested to the Señor that he let me see you, but he thought to the
contrary. He is my commanding officer.... As for you, Bedient, all I
have to say is that you carry--a maniac's luck. I think--I think if you
hadn't looked so like a dead man, Señor Rey would have done the natural
thing, as you came forth from the forecastle."... The big chap glanced
at the pistol on the table. "What is it you want with me?"
Again and again, in the stifling forecastle, Bedient had swooned from
the heat, the vile air and his utter weakness. Only he had nailed to
his brain surfaces, through terrific concentration, an expectancy for
Miss Mallory's signals; otherwise they would have failed to rouse him.
He had come forth more dead than alive, with only a glimmering of what
he was to do, until he saw the hand of Celestino Rey move toward his
pocket. Then a strange jolt of strength shook him, and he had the
pistol. It was like that day on the _Truxton_. Afterward he heard the
words of Miss Mallory insisting that Sorenson could swim, and amusement
helped to clear his consciousness. A queer sense that he was not to
lose in these lesser affairs possessed him; that enough strength,
enough intelligence would be given, a peculiar inner sustaining which
he was odd enough to accept as authoritative.... And now he heard
Framtree's words, and a water-bottle on the table beside the pistol
magnetized his eye. He poured out a glassful and drank, and the thought
came--apart from his listening to Framtree--if only other agonies could
be eased with the swift directness of his thirst-torture that moment.
"I wanted you to go back on the _Hatteras_, Mr. Framtree," he said.
"The _Henlopen_ won't sail for a week. We won't lose sight of each
other, so there is time. As for our talk, we must be alone."
The words crippled Framtree's hostility, but he did not forget Rey. It
was a hard moment for him.
"One wouldn't think you had a week--to judge by the chances you took in
turning this trick to-day," he said.
The Spaniard's bony shoulders sank a little in his lids dropped for an
instant.
"You proved so hard to reach in these days of preparation," Bedient
replied, "that I feared I might fail altogether in case of
eventualities. And we had reason to think that to-night marked the end
of Equatorian peace."
Rey moistened his lips, watching Framtree, but did not speak.
"It must be damned important," Framtree said.
"It is," Bedient answered, and the American woman listening intently at
the wheel did not miss the change in his voice.
Meanwhile the yellow-brown face of the Spaniard had scarcely altered,
except perhaps that the pallid scar had a bit more shine about it. His
eyes moved around the cabin, darting often at the pistol, halting upon
the knob of the forecastle-door in the fear that others might be
concealed there; inscrutable black brilliants, these eyes, and to the
woman at the wheel the cabin was evil from their purgatorial
restlessness.... Suddenly he started, and commanded Framtree:
"See to the ship's course!"
"It's all right, Señor Rey," Miss Mallory called. "I can hold her.
We're scudding along beautifully, and our convoy is keeping pace----"
The Spaniard's bony shoulders sank a little in his chair. He
interpreted this, as did Framtree, as an order. It was his first
positive assurance that the American woman was against him.
"But the Chinese, Miss Mallory----" he said, with rare control.
"Oh, they have picked up Mr. Sorenson.... They can see the light at the
point of the Inlet. Mr. Sorenson will need a change of clothing----"
There was a laugh from Framtree, rich, ripping, infectious. It released
accumulations of fever and strain from all but the Spaniard, who joined
nevertheless.... Bedient stood somewhat rigidly by the table. Waves of
mist alternated with intervals of clear perception in his mind.
Miss Mallory had entered into reaction. The laugh of Jim Framtree was
the only good omen to her. She wasn't quite so afraid of him after
that.... As for the wheel, the situation was not nearly so blithe as
she had represented to Rey. The _Savonarola_ had changed course, while
the Chinese were getting the small boat overside. The Inlet had been
astern and a little to star-board then. She had wondered, at the time,
at the course, because Captain Bloom of the _Hatteras_ had shown her
how the reefs stretched out, forming a great breakwater for Coral City
harbor, and the _Savonarola_ had seemed to be making for trouble....
She jumped with a thought now. Perhaps Rey had intended to run over the
coral with his lighter craft, or perhaps he knew a lesser passage; and
thus elude Jaffier's gunboat, or strand the latter upon the reefs....
The Inlet light was now straight to port, but the breeze was brisker,
and she hated the thought of losing it. She had handled the tiller of
small craft, but would not have dared to bring around the _Savonarola_
with her vast sweep of sail, even had she cared to regain the original
course.... Bedient could not hold these two men at bay all night. He
looked as if he might fall any moment. And now he had postponed his
talk with Framtree. This was beyond her. She had counted upon him for a
message that would make Framtree _his_. She did not realize the meaning
of the few words already spoken. There might be pistols secreted, where
Framtree could find them. One shot and she was _alone_.... Bedient did
not even adequately care for the pistol he had. There was a large stain
of red upon the breast pocket of his coat,--a coat that had been white
in the morning, but now grimed from the forecastle. The stain terrified
her.... Where was the voyage to end? Certainly they could not go back
to _The Pleiad_ Inlet, nor over the reefs to the main harbor; and this
strain could not last. These were bits of her furious thinking during
the last few moments, while Bedient stood beside the table like a
freshly risen Lazarus.... The Glow-worm moved past her, as a
sleep-walker might have done, murmuring that she must have a glass of
wine or die. Madame Sorenson moaned at being left alone, and followed
the Señora into the cabin. And now Señor Rey asked blandly:
"Why don't you send the two ladies ashore also, Miss Mallory? There is
an extra boat--also an extra Chinese----"
"_You won't do that, dear_?" The Glow-worm turned back to her with a
horrified look. Her tone was not to be forgotten.
"No, Señora," Miss Mallory answered. "It is well to have at least one
small boat."
"Excellent wisdom, I am sure," said Rey, as his eyes settled upon the
Glow-worm.
She drained a glass of wine, and sank into a chair in a still huddled
fashion. There was something unnatural in the fixed inclination of her
head. She had betrayed herself, and watched Rey now out of the corners
of her eyes--and in dissolving fear--quivering under his stare and
voice. Madame Sorenson was sitting near, dazed from sensational
expenditure, her lips moving without sound. There was something hideous
in the tension, and in the whole cabin arrangement. Framtree had taken
a seat across the aft doorway. He could turn from the woman at the
wheel to the light with a movement of his head. He appeared to be much
mixed in mind and resigned to await developments. Bedient stood
silently watching these changes of position. Miss Mallory felt she must
scream before many minutes. She wanted Bedient to know all the fears
that distressed her, but dared not speak lest she betray the weakness
of their position as she saw it. Once she thought Framtree was laughing
at her.
"What a pleasant little party!" Rey remarked at length. "Too bad you
can't join us, Miss Mallory." And now he turned to Bedient with a
scornful laugh: "Why don't you use your men in the forecastle to man
the ship, and relieve the lady at the wheel?"
"They are off watch, Señor," Bedient said, smiling.
"How tired they are! How silently they rest!" the Spaniard replied
softly, and his long hands caressed each other.
Framtree glanced from Bedient to Miss Mallory, who realized with added
dread that the forecastle bubble was pricked. She wondered how he had
conveyed the impression that others were behind.
"Better let me help you with the wheel, Miss Mallory," Framtree said,
decently enough.
"No."
"Shall I get you a glass of wine?"
"No."
Rey seemed to have caught a sudden hope. At least, Miss Mallory
imagined so; and that he tried to cover it with words.
"Mr. Bedient," he said pleasantly, "I do not wish to under-rate your
genius in the least, but I should like to pay a compliment to your
remarkable fellow-worker."
"I have several to pay, as well, Señor."
"I should be glad for her to hear," Rey added.
"If you mean me," Miss Mallory called, "I am listening intently."
The Spaniard leaned forward, appearing to cover his eyes with his
fingers. Miss Mallory could hardly restrain a scream for Bedient to
look out for the pistol, but nothing happened. Señor Rey sat back and
began reminiscently:
"I was sailing and garnering in these waters before either of you men,
and certainly before any of the women present, were alive. I made
Equatoria interesting, and a delightful place to live. I have met in
the old days, sometimes in strategy, sometimes in open warfare, the
most crafty and daring seamen the world could send to the Caribbean.
All, to the last man, I have overmatched in strength and cleverness. A
ship has at last changed hands beneath my feet. It is well. I have
lived long and am content. Only, I wish to say that it is a bright
pleasure to think that no man, however brilliant or daring,
outgeneraled me--but a delightful American girl."
"It's a tribute that I shall always remember, Señor," Miss Mallory
responded, "and one that comes from a master of his profession."
Out of this pleasantry brewed a change. The Spaniard stared from face
to face for several seconds. What came over him cannot be told--a break
in his fine control; a sudden realization that he was whipped; a
resurgence of all the shattered strategies in his brain, many of which
certain others of the party did not yet understand; his doubt of
Framtree, or his inability to reach the weapon,--the exact point which
goaded him to black disorder was never known, but the fury of it
concentrated upon the Glow-worm. Her mortal fear attracted it.
The look he turned upon her was demoniacal, harrowing as a dream of
hell. All else stopped--words, thoughts, even hearts. Miss Mallory
craned down to see. The Sorenson woman panted as one dying of thirst.
The Señora shrank back. Her face seemed dim, fallen, but she could not
lose his eyes. Rey was speaking, leaning forward in his chair, and
heaping words upon her like clods upon a corpse:
"... But to-night, things were spoken which could only have come to
them--through you! Celestino Rey has been outgeneraled by a clever
American girl, but he has also been betrayed by a South American
cat--the tortoise-shell of a bagnio-litter----"
Both white men commanded him to stop. The Spaniard turned a glance from
Framtree to Bedient.... The woman at the wheel, straining downward, saw
the Glow-worm rise with an appalling shudder, as the eyes of her lord
left her; saw her body huddle forward toward him, her hands fumbling in
her hair.
"My dear Bedient," the Spaniard was saying, "I regret this domestic
scene. You must excuse a man who has so recently discovered his
Glow-worm to be a scorpion----"