IN WHICH PHIL FINDS THE TABLES TURNED, AND THE MARIAN RUNS INTO CHICAGO
RIVER.
"Gorrificious!--Mr. Whippleton!" shouted Peter, as he lay down upon me.
"Let him alone, Peter," pleaded Marian, as she rushed to the rope which
bound my feet.
"Can't do it, miss. Mr. Whippleton will shoot me," answered the cook,
in high excitement.
Marian cast off the rope which bound me to the cleat, and then untied
my feet; but the negro had placed his knee upon my breast, and held me
by the throat with both hands. The condition to which I was reduced was
desperate, and only desperate measures could redeem me. I began to
struggle, and when my feet were free, I began to use them with
considerable vigor. But I was very feeble, and with the advantage he
had over me, I was not equal even to the old negro.
The battle was going against me, and I heard the uncertain movements of
Mr. Whippleton in the cabin. Marian wrung her hands in despair, when
she saw her resolute effort apparently so signally defeated. Out of
breath and out of strength, I was compelled to abandon the struggle as
useless; but my fair ally was not so demoralized. She took the tin cup,
which the negro used for his drams, and pouring some whiskey from the
skipper's bottle, she dashed it into the face of the cook, just as Mr.
Whippleton was coming up the steps from the cabin.
"Gorrificious!" yelled the negro, blinded by the potent liquor, and
smarting with pain in his eyes.
I made one more desperate effort to free myself, and as Peter was
obliged to use his hands for the comfort of his eyes, I easily shook
him off this time. At the same instant the crack of the revolver
startled me; but I was not hit. Marian stood near me with a large
champagne bottle, from which she had poured the whiskey, in her hand. I
seized it, and sprang upon Mr. Whippleton as he aimed his pistol at me
the second time.
I struck him a heavy blow upon the head with the bottle, and he fell
back into the cabin.
My strength seemed to come back, as the prospect brightened before me.
I descended to the cabin, and proceeded to ascertain the condition of
Mr. Whippleton.
"Is he dead?" gasped Marian.
"No; I think not," as I felt of his pulse, and then of his breast to
see if his heart still beat.
"O, I hope not," cried she, terrified at the tragedy of which she had
become a part.
"Gorrificious!" howled Peter, who had been washing his eyes at the
side, and was now able to use them again.
I picked up Mr. Whippleton's pistol, and returned to the standing-room,
to guard against any attack on the part of the cook.
"Don't shoot me, Mr. Phil, don't!" cried he.
"I won't, if you behave yourself; but if you don't obey all my orders,
I will put a bullet through your head. Do you hear me?"
"I hear you, Mr. Phil. 'Tain't none of my quarrel, and I don't care
nothing at all about it. I obeys orders whoever is in command," he
replied, rubbing his eyes with his handkerchief.
[Illustration: SKIPPER WHIPPLETON A PRISONER. Page 301.]
With his aid I lifted the form of Mr. Whippleton from the cabin floor,
and we bore it to the seat in the standing-room, where I had lain so
many hours. The Marian had come up into the wind when the cook left the
helm, and I put her about, heading her to the south-west. Miss
Collingsby took the helm at my request. She was pale and excited; but
she was firm. For my own part I felt like new man, and the new order of
things seemed to soothe the pain I was still suffering.
I examined Mr. Whippleton very carefully again. I felt the beatings of
his heart, and I was satisfied that he was not more severely injured
than I had been.
I did not intend to make any more mistakes, and with the same cord
which had confined my hands, I tied his wrists together behind him. I
secured his feet, and made him fast to the jib-sheet cleat. He was now
in precisely the same situation as that to which I had been reduced,
and in which I had been only half an hour before. He lay very still;
but I was satisfied so long as I knew that he breathed. His face was
covered with blood, for the bottle had broken under the blow, and cut
his head. I directed Peter to wash his face and bathe his head in
spirits.
"Gorrificious! Things is turned right over," said he.
"They are; and, Peter, I give you the same instructions which Mr.
Whippleton gave you. Don't you let him get away," I added, as I seated
myself at the side of Marian.
"No, sir."
"I'm not drunk, Peter."
"No, sir; sober's you was the day you was born," chattered the cook.
"If you want to get back to Chicago without a hole in your head, you
will see that Mr. Whippleton don't get loose. I shall keep this pistol
beside me, and I shall not go to sleep."
"Yes, sir. I understand."
"See that you mind."
"Don't be afraid of me, Mr. Philip. I always minds the captain, whoever
he is," replied the polite cook, who, like thousands of others, was
disposed to submit to the powers that be without asking any questions.
I did not mean to depend upon him for any service, except in the cabin
and cook-room, and I was confident that the pistol would make him
obedient. Peter rubbed the head of his late master diligently, as I
told him to do, until his patient showed signs of returning animation;
but he did not come to his senses for two hours. He was thoroughly
steeped in whiskey; indeed, the yacht had the odor of a rum-shop, with
what had been drank and what had been spilled.
"How do you feel, Phil?" asked Marian, after the excitement had
partially subsided.
"Better, much better."
"Does your head ache now?"
"It does, severely, I should say, under ordinary circumstances; but I
don't mind it now, since the prospect is changed. You are a brave girl,
Marian," I added, gazing at her with admiration.
"I was terribly frightened. I was afraid Mr. Whippleton would shoot
you."
"I think he would; he did fire at me; but he was too tipsy to take
aim."
"Whiskey has been our friend, this time."
"It is more apt to be our friend when our enemies drink it than when we
drink it ourselves. That was a happy expedient of yours, to give Peter
a dram in the eyes."
"Gorrificious!" exclaimed the cook. "Twan't happy for me, miss."
"Because you were doing wrong," said Marian.
"It was a brave act of yours, my dear cousin, and I am proud to call
you so now," I added.
"I am not a baby. I don't know what made me think of that; I wasn't
strong enough to do anything else."
"You couldn't have done any better."
"Gorrificious! I think you could, miss," interposed the cook.
"I blinded Peter with the whiskey, and you struck Mr. Whippleton with
the whiskey bottle, and he was so tipsy he couldn't reach us till it
was too late," added Marian. "But, Philip, you must be hungry. You
haven't eaten anything to-day."
"I am not hungry, but I am faint," I replied.
"Take a little drop of whiskey, Mr. Philip," said Peter, turning to me.
"Not a drop: I would faint away a dozen times before I would touch a
drop. Go down and bring me up some tea, and cook me a beefsteak,
Peter."
"Yes, sir," replied he, hastening below, apparently glad to get out of
the reach of a pistol ball.
"I can scarcely believe that we are still safe, Philip," continued
Marian.
"I owe my safety to you, cousin."
"And I certainly owe mine to you."
"We can call it square, then; but not many young ladies, I am sure,
would have been so courageous as you were. The battle was lost when you
came to the rescue."
"I shall never cease to be grateful to you for your care and
protection, Philip."
"And I shall be just as grateful to you. Let us both thank God, from
the depths of our hearts, for his goodness to us."
"Do you know where we are, Philip?" she asked, glancing over the waste
of waters ahead of us.
"Not exactly; but I think I can find my way back to Chicago."
"The lake is large, and we may get lost."
"No; if we keep on in our course, we shall come out somewhere. I don't
know this side of the lake, but I am tolerably familiar with the other
side. We crossed the lake, and have sailed to the northward since one
or two o'clock this morning, when Mr. Whippleton hit me on the head."
"It was four o'clock in the morning; I asked Peter," said Marian.
"Very well. It was not far from two when we came about this afternoon.
We sailed towards the north about ten hours, and I should judge that we
made at least fifty miles. I think I can tell by this map nearly where
we are. As I understand it now, our course is south-west, and we have
not less than a hundred miles to make."
"How long will it take?"
"As the breeze is now, it will take twenty hours. We shall arrive some
time to-morrow."
Peter brought my dinner on deck, and though my appetite had been
spoiled by the rough experience of the trip, I ate enough to make me
feel tolerably strong. Marian kept the helm all the afternoon, and I
lay upon the cushions where I obtained a little sleep, which made my
head feel better. The fair helmswoman promised to wake me if anything
went wrong. About sunset Mr. Whippleton came to his senses again. He
had been asleep most of the time, for we heard him snore.
"O, my head!" groaned he, as he opened his eyes, and then rolled off
the cushions in his efforts to get up.
I called Peter, and we put him back again.
"My head! My head!" repeated he.
"Mine felt so this morning," I replied, in consoling tones.
He struggled to rise, but the rope had been carefully secured.
"Untie me, Phil," cried he, angrily.
"Excuse me," I replied. "I have you where I want you, and for your sake
I hope we shall have a quick passage to Chicago."
"Is she headed for Chicago?"
"Yes, and has been for four hours. The tables are turned."
"Untie me, Phil. I am in great pain."
"If I can do anything to relieve your pain, I will, but I will not
untie you."
He pleaded and begged for me to release him, but I dared not do so. He
complained bitterly of his head, and made me various offers to let him
go. I assured him that I should hand him over to the police the next
day; until then, I would do anything I could to make him comfortable,
except to give him his liberty. I brought up the bedding and pillows
belonging to one of the berths in the cabin, and prepared an easy couch
beneath him. I directed Peter to give him his supper, and to feed him
like a child. He said he was comfortable then, but begged for whiskey.
I refused to honor this demand; and finding that Peter was boozing more
than I deemed best, I emptied all the bottles into the lake, with the
hope that the fish would not be harmed by it.
Marian retired at an early hour; but she came on deck in the middle of
the night, and insisted upon taking the helm; yet I dared not sleep,
for the wind was freshening, and we spent the rest of the night in
talking. At daylight I discovered the steeples of Chicago in the
distance. We had a stiff breeze then, and at six o'clock I ran the
Marian into the river.