THE CARIBBEE.
Bessie Watson stood upon the deck of the Caribbee, and in the darkness
of the night she did not at first discover that the vessel was not The
Starry Flag. She wondered that Levi, with his accustomed devotion, did
not spring to receive her when she came on board; that the steward did
not present his smiling face; and that her ever-anxious father failed
to assure himself that she did not fall overboard in passing from the
boat to the vessel. She was an only daughter, and when she appeared it
was customary to "turn out the guard" and pay all the honors.
To say that Bessie Watson was a pretty girl, is saying very little. She
was a good girl--and this is saying something more, and something
better. Nothing but a true heart and excellent common sense saved her
from being spoiled by the indulgence of her father and mother. Another
devotee was added to those who adored her; but she refused to be
spoiled even by Levi's flattery, if such it could be called; for the
young skipper was as sincere in his admiration of her as of the yacht
he commanded. Bessie did not pout or flout when neither Levi nor her
father appeared to receive her.
The man who had been in the boat with Mat Mogmore was Captain Gauley,
the stranger. After handing Bessie on board, he led the way, in
silence, towards the cabin. There were no lights on deck, and she could
see no difference between the two vessels, even when she had descended
the steps into the cabin; for no light appeared there. The darkness had
been chosen to help the illusion, and Bessie had to feel her way. She
came to the table in the middle of the cabin, and knowing that there
were lockers forming seats below the berths, she groped her way to the
side of the apartment, and seated herself.
"All hands are busy forward in getting under way," said her conductor,
from the steps.
"Where is the steward?" asked Bessie.
"He has been so hurried putting away his stores that he has not been in
the cabin."
"Are you a new hand?" asked Bessie, who did not recognize the voice of
the man.
"I am; I am only going this trip."
"Send the steward, if you please, to light the lamps," added Bessie,
who was reasonable enough to understand that the yacht was going to sea
on short notice, and she did not demand any unnecessary attention under
the circumstances.
"I will send him right down if I can find him."
Captain Gauley went on deck; and Bessie heard a great rattling of
ropes, a swaying of booms, and hasty footsteps above her. She could not
see a thing; but she waited in the gloom for the steward to come and
light the lamps. The noise on deck indicated that all hands were busy,
as the man had said; and even yet she suspected nothing.
Mat Mogmore did not go on shore to see his sick mother. He heard the
order of Captain Fairfield to man the windlass and stand by the head
sails; then he pulled for the Caribbee, to which his boat belonged.
Everything had worked to his entire satisfaction. Levi had been as
credulous as he desired him to be, and The Starry Flag was standing out
of the bay on her way to Portland.
"How is it?" asked Captain Gauley, in a low tone, as Mat came on deck.
"All right; the yacht is under way," replied Mat.
"We must get off at once, then."
"Don't be in a hurry; wait till the Flag has made a couple of miles, so
that Levi won't notice the movements of this vessel. Where is the
girl?"
"In the cabin. It is pitch dark there, and she has not found out where
she is yet," answered Gauley, with a suppressed chuckle, as though the
plan was not only a success, but a capital joke.
The foresail and the mainsail of the Caribbee were hoisted, and her
crew were busy in getting up the anchor. By the time the preparations
were completed, the yacht had disappeared in the darkness and the
distance. The jib was hoisted, and the vessel stood out of the bay in a
direction nearly opposite to that taken by the yacht.
Bessie began to be impatient. The yacht was under way, and still the
steward did not come; still her father, who had nothing to do with
working the vessel, did not make his appearance. Had they forgotten
that she was on board? If they had, it would be the most remarkable
thing that ever occurred. She could not understand it. She knew, as the
vessel was now sailing, that Levi must be at the helm, just at the head
of the stairs, and she decided to go up and speak to him. She could see
the stars through the opening of the companion-way, and she had no
difficulty in finding her way out of the cabin.
"Levi?" said she, as she stepped upon deck.
"He is not here," replied Captain Gauley, who was at the helm.
"Where is he?" asked Bessie; and, without knowing that anything was
wrong, things began to look a little strange to her, or rather to feel
so, for she could not see anything.
"I really don't know where he is, just now," replied the helmsman. "But
he cannot be far off."
"The steward has not lighted the cabin yet," added she.
"The captain told the steward not to do so."
"Did he--why?"
"I think you cannot be accustomed to sailing near the land at night,"
added Captain Gauley.
"I really am not."
"The light would blind the helmsman's eyes so that he could not see the
shore. As soon as we are clear of the Selvages we shall light up."
Bessie was satisfied with this explanation. On board of a Sound steamer
she had observed that the windows in the forward part of the saloon
were covered with thick canvas at night, so that the glare of the light
near the boat should not deepen the gloom beyond it, and thus prevent
the pilot from seeing the land, or other vessels in the distance. But
she was not satisfied with her situation otherwise. The vessel did not
_feel_ like the yacht, and Levi and her father did not appear.
While she stood watching the helmsman, and trying to comprehend the
inexplicable position of affairs, she saw a light in the cabin. She
looked down, and perceived a woman in the act of lighting a lamp.
"Don't light that lamp!" shouted the man at the helm. "It blinds my
eyes so that I can't see to steer."
The woman extinguished the match she was applying to the lamp, and
darkness reigned in the cabin again. Who was the woman? She asked the
helmsman.
"Your father thought you ought to have a female waiter, and he has
obtained one," replied Captain Gauley; but she did not notice the
chuckle with which he spoke.
Bessie knew that her father would not have provided a woman without
consulting her, and she determined to inquire into the situation. She
went down the cabin steps again, guided by faith, rather than sight,
and felt her way to the locker where she had before been seated.
"Who is it?" asked the woman, from her place at the forward part of the
cabin.
"It is I," replied Bessie. "Did my father employ you as stewardess of
the yacht?"
"I guess not," replied the woman. "I'm not anybody's stewardess, I can
tell you!"
"Who are you then?" asked Bessie, now really alarmed.
"Well, I'm Mrs. Vincent, of course. This is my husband's vessel, and I
never expect to be a servant to anybody," answered the woman, rather
indignant at being thought a stewardess, even in the dark. "Now, who
are you?"
"I am Miss Watson," replied Bessie, her heart sinking within her, so
that she could hardly utter the words.
"Miss Watson! Bless me! What, Mr. Watson's daughter?"
"Yes."
"Well, that is strange, sure enough!"
"Is Captain Dock Vincent your husband?" asked Bessie, almost choked
with terror.
"Certainly he is."
"And this vessel is not The Starry Flag?"
"Why, no; it's the Caribbee. How on earth came you here?"
"I supposed it was the yacht--my father's yacht," gasped the poor girl,
overwhelmed when she realized that she had fallen into a snare set by
her former enemy.
"That's too bad; but I didn't know nothing at all about it. Waldock"--she
called her husband by his full given name--"Waldock is up to some awful
trick."
It was a consolation to know that the woman was not a party to her
husband's wicked scheme. Bessie explained how she had been entrapped;
but Mrs. Vincent declared that she did not even know the vessel was to
sail that night. She had retired with her two children at nine o'clock,
and got up when she felt the motion of the vessel under way.
"Where is she going?" asked Bessie, wiping away the tears that dimmed
her eyes.
"We are all going to Australia."
"Where is your husband?" demanded Bessie, with a shudder.
"I'm sure I don't know. He went off to New York; but of course we are
not going to Australia without him."
While they were talking, Mat Mogmore came into the cabin, and lighted a
lamp.
"Mat, what does all this mean?" said Mrs. Vincent, sharply.
"We have carried the thing out just as Captain Vincent told us to do,"
replied Mat.
"What did he tell you to do?"
"He left us to get Miss Watson on board. We haven't had a chance to do
so before, though we have been watching three or four days for one."
"Why did you wish to get me on board?" inquired Bessie, trembling in
every fibre of her frame.
"O, you needn't be frightened, Miss Watson. You are not to be hurt, and
you are to be treated as well as if you were on board of the yacht.
Three years ago your father and Levi sent Captain Vincent to the state
prison. He didn't forget it, and he is going to carry out the plan he
began upon then."
"Am I to be carried to Australia?" asked Bessie.
"That depends on your father. If he pays the money Captain Vincent
asks, we shall send you back. Your father and Levi served the captain a
mean trick, and he always said he would get even with them; and I think
he will now."
"But how came you in this vessel, Mat?" asked Bessie.
"I went into the yacht for the sole purpose of doing the little job I
finished up to-night," answered Mat, with a sneaking smile.
"O, what a wretch!" exclaimed Bessie.
"A wretch? Well, perhaps I am; but it pays better than going before the
mast in the yacht. Captain Vincent has your father this time where he
can hold him," added Mat. "Levi has gone off to Portland to sail in the
race, and he can't do anything for you this time. If you have a mind to
write to your father, and tell him to come down with the rocks, I will
see that he gets the letter within a week or so. He must put down about
a hundred thousand dollars this time."
"Poor girl!" ejaculated Mrs. Vincent. "I pity you; but my husband is an
awful man, and I can't do anything about it."
"We haven't anything against her," said Mat. "She is to have a
state-room by herself, and live like a lady. That's the captain's
orders. The matter rests there, and it isn't any use to say anything
more about it."
Mat went on deck, leaving Bessie to weep over her unhappy fate, with no
one but Mrs. Vincent to comfort her.