ON BOARD THE "SEA-MEW"
"I wonder if the beggar'll follow us," gasped Brack, between his
spurts; "seemed mor'n half inclined to it--cuss him for his meddling!"
"Where are you going?" asked Hector.
"To the _Sea-mew_."
Hector started--his brother's yacht. He must not go there. What would
be the consequences if he were taken on her, found concealed? Picton
would be compromised, in grave danger, probably of imprisonment.
"I cannot let you go there," said Hector; "it is impossible."
"Just you sit still. You're a'goin' there whether you like it or not,"
said Brack doggedly.
"I will not place my brother in a false position."
"What'd you do if he were in your place and came to the yacht as
you're doin'?"
Hector made no answer; he knew he would take the risk.
"There y'ar," said Brack triumphantly; "I knew it. You'd take him
aboard and gie him a hearty welcome."
"Put back; I won't go," said Hector.
"Put back, eh, and land yer right in his arms. Not me, not for Brack,
oh dear, no; you just sit still, will yer?"
Brack had a peculiar habit of saying "you" and "yer," and sundry other
words, changing them as the mood took him.
"Now I'd not be at all surprised if he'd hired a boat and was on his
way to the _London Belle_, just to scent out things; he's a human
bloodhound, d----n him, that's what he is."
"If he goes to the _London Belle_ he'll find out we have not been
there and he will guess we have come to the _Sea-mew_," said Hector.
"I cannot risk it, Brack."
"Leave him to me. We'll reach the _Sea-mew_ long afore he can get to
the _Belle_. That's her out there, right beyond the yacht. I'll put
you aboard and row round to her like h----, and I'll meet him comin'
to her if so be he's set out; I'll see he doesn't board her if I have
to run him down."
Brack was pulling with all his might; the boat seemed to skim through
the still water of the bay like a skiff; they were nearing the
_Sea-mew_.
Captain Ben Bruce was on deck, looking over the side. They were about
to leave the harbor; Picton was anxious to get away. He was in the
cabin. Ben left him reading; probably he had fallen asleep after the
excitement of the day.
He heard the sound of oars, and in another minute or two saw the boat
shooting toward the yacht.
"Who's this coming here?" he wondered.
He made no sound, merely watched, wondering what would happen.
Brack did not see him as he came alongside; the gangway steps were up;
how was he to get Hector aboard?
"Is that you, Brack?" said Ben.
"It's me, sir. Let down the steps quick. I've something to say to you,
something that won't keep."
"As particular as all that?"
"Yes, a matter of life or death," said Brack.
"We're just about to leave the harbor."
"For God's sake, let down the steps!" said Brack.
Hector did not move or speak; his nerves were strung to the highest
pitch, he quivered all over.
Captain Ben called a hand and they opened the gangway and lowered the
steps.
"Now's yer time--go up quick!" said Brack.
"Who's that?" asked Ben, as Hector rose up.
"He's comin' aboard; he's a friend of Mr. Woodridge's."
"Who is he?"
"He'll tell you when he's aboard," said Brack.
"That won't do for me," said Ben.
"Don't yer trust me?" asked Brack.
"Yes."
"Then, for God's sake, let him aboard or you'll regret it for the rest
of your days."
"Come up," said Ben, thinking it passing strange the man did not give
his name.
Hector hesitated; Brack urged him on.
"Go, go! Think what I've got to do--row round by the _Belle_ in case
he's after us."
Hector hesitated no longer; he could not leave Brack in the lurch, and
if Hackler found out they had not rowed to the _Belle_ there would be
trouble. He got out of the boat; no sooner was he on the steps than
Brack pushed off and shot away. Ben called after him but he did not
stop; he was making for the _London Belle_ as fast as he could row.
"Who are you?" again asked Ben as he came on deck.
Hector trembled with excitement; he was unstrung, he had suffered
much; the chase over the moor, the battle with the hound, the naked
flight, hunger, exposure, the fear of being taken, the suspense of the
past few days brought on a burning fever. He tried to speak but could
not; his tongue clove to the roof of his mouth; his lips were parched;
he held out his hands in a helpless fashion; he staggered, reeled
across the deck. Ben gazed at him in wonder. He could not make it out.
There was something very mysterious; Brack must have known what he was
doing.
Hector groped along the deck like a man walking unsteadily in his
sleep; he mumbled to himself, looked from side to side furtively,
began to run, stopped, knelt down, put his face close to the deck in
a listening attitude. Ben watched him, followed him. Was this a madman
Brack had put on board?
Presently Hector came across a coil of rope. He seized it with both
hands and wrestled with it in his fierce grasp.
"Strangling some one," thought Ben.
"You beast, you're dead, ha, ha, ha, I've done for you!" and the weird
laugh sounded doubly strange on the water.
Hector rose and pulled off his coat, then stripped off his shirt.
"I must stop this," said Ben. He stepped forward and was about to take
him by the arm, when Hector whipped round and flung himself on him.
"You'll never take me alive, never, I'll die first! Kill me if you
like--I'll never go back!" hissed Hector, as he clenched Ben by the
throat. It was an easy matter for the Captain to hold him off at arm's
length, a strong man against a weak, and as he did so he saw into his
face by the light of the lamp behind him.
Something in the face roused memories in Ben. He looked long and
earnestly. The fever-stricken man returned his gaze; the poor tired
brain had a glimmering of reason again. Thus they stood, gazing,
forging the past, piecing links together in a chain of recollection.
"Ben, Ben, don't you know me?"
It was a bitter, heartbroken cry, a wail of anguish, and it struck Ben
like a knife, it seemed to cut through him. As Hector's cry ceased he
fell forward into Ben's arms. Like a flood the incidents of the past
few days rushed into Ben's mind. The boom of the gun, the escape of
the convict, Brack's story, the strangling of the bloodhound, the man
on the road to Torwood.
"Great heaven, it's Hector!" said Ben. "Poor fellow! My God, what a
wreck!"
Then his thoughts flew to Picton. It would never do to let him know
to-night; he must be prepared for the shock. Where to conceal Hector?
For the present, at any rate, he would put him in his cabin. The
hands on board--could they be trusted? Some story would have to be
concocted. There was a man near and Ben called him.
"Help me to carry him into my cabin," said Ben.
The sailor obeyed without a word. He was an elderly man; he had served
with Captain Bruce on the _Tiger_.
"Say nothing of this until I give you permission," said Ben.
"Right, sir," said Abe Glovey.
"Abe, you are much attached to Woodridge and myself?"
"I am, sir."
"Can you persuade every man on board to keep this man's presence here
a secret? It's very important."
"It shall be done, sir. They are all good men and true."
"Mr. Woodridge will reward them handsomely if nothing transpires
ashore."
Hector lay on Captain Ben's bunk, and they stood looking at him.
Ben took a sudden resolution.
"Abe, I will confide in you, tell you a secret, which if disclosed
means ruin to us all, and a living death to him."
"I think I understand, sir."
"You guess who he is?"
"I know, sir. A terrible change has come over him, and no wonder, but
I can recognize him, for I knew him and loved him in the old days.
There's not one in a thousand would know him, but I do--it's Hector,
sir, is it not?"
"Yes, it's Hector Woodridge, or what's left of him. He's in a bad way,
Abe."
"He is, sir."
"And we can't have a doctor to him."
"No, sir, but we'll pull him through. Every man of us will help. Give
me permission to tell them. They'll stand by him and Mr. Picton; you
need have no fear of that, sir."
"Trust them all; yes, that will be the best," said Ben.
"I'm sure you're right, sir; quite sure."
Captain Ben gave orders for the _Sea-mew_ to leave Torbay, and she was
soon moving slowly toward the sea.
He sat beside Hector and listened to his moaning and muttering. He
saw the wasted form, the haggard, drawn face, the gray hair, then he
noticed the hands and shuddered. What an awful chase that must have
been across the moor, bloodhounds on his track, every man's hand
against him, no hope, no place to hide in. Yet there must have been
one man whose compassion had been aroused on the moor, the man who
clothed Hector, when he found him almost naked. Ben vowed when he
knew that man's name he should receive his due reward. And there was
another man, Brack, honest rough old Brack, with a heart of gold, and
the courage of a bulldog. Ben felt it was good to be a sailor and be
one of such a class.
Brack must have discovered Hector in Torquay, and hidden him until he
could get him on the _Sea-mew_. Where had he found him? That story was
to be told. They were only just in time; Ben thought what might have
happened had they missed the _Sea-mew_ and had to return to Torquay,
and shuddered. He vowed again that Hector should not be recaptured;
no, not if he had to sail the _Sea-mew_ half the world round,
and fight for him. It would be weeks, perhaps months, before the
fever-stricken man became well, and there was no better hiding-place
than the _Sea-mew_, and no better doctor than the sea and its
attendant breeze.
Brack, rowing from the _London Belle_, saw the _Sea-mew_ moving slowly
toward the entrance to the bay.
"He's safe; they'll never part with him. Brack, you're not such a bad
sort after all! I wonder where's Hackler got to--perhaps he didn't
follow us," thought the old boatman.
He lay on his oars and watched the _Sea-mew's_ lights until they
disappeared.
"There's a boat comin' now--wonder if it's him?" he said with a
chuckle. "I'm ready for him, anyway."