THE NEW LIFE.
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 upward journey. 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 not be
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!