"Now, what about the yacht?" inquired MacAndrew. "We mustn't be caught
here. It is impossible to say how soon the troops may be after us.
There is a guard-house in Aniwa Bay; and they are certain to know
before long, that a man has escaped from Dui and is heading this way."
"The yacht will be within signalling distance of this hut to-night at
midnight," said Browne. "And you can see for yourself there are some
rockets in that corner which I can fire. Then, within half an hour,
she will send a boat ashore."
"Good," he remarked in a tone of approval. "Very good. You are the
sort of man I like to do business with. For my part, I shall not be
sorry to get out of this." He pointed to his disguise.
"I dare say you will not," answered Browne. "You have succeeded
wonderfully well. I cannot tell you how much obliged I am to you."
"I am equally obliged to you," said MacAndrew, "so we can cry quits. I
flatter myself that, all things considered, it has been a pretty good
escape; but I could tell you of one or two which have been better. We
mustn't shout too soon, however; we are not out of the wood yet." As
he spoke he mixed himself another glass of grog and lit a cigar, the
smoke of which he puffed through his nose with the enjoyment of a man,
to whom such a luxury had been forbidden for some time past. Browne
followed his example, and the two men smoked in silence, while the
ex-Nihilist snored on the bed in the corner. Hour after hour they
talked on. As Browne had suspected, MacAndrew proved the most
interesting companion in the world. His life had been one long series
of hairbreadth escapes; he had fought both for civilization and against
it; had sold his services to native sultans and rajahs, had penetrated
into the most dangerous places, and had met the most extraordinary
people. Strange to relate, with it all, he had still preserved the air
of a gentleman.
"Oxford man?" asked Browne after a moment's pause, without taking his
eyes off the fire, and still speaking in the same commonplace tone.
The other mentioned the name of a certain well-known college. Both
felt that there was no more to be said, and they accordingly relapsed
into silence.
"Rum thing this world of ours, isn't it?" said MacAndrew after a little
while. "Look at me. I started with everything in my favour; eldest
son, fine old place in the country, best of society; for all I know I
might have ended my days as a J.P. and member for my county. The
Fates, however, were against it; in consequence I am sitting here
to-night, disguised as a Russian fur-trader. It's a bit of a
transformation scene--isn't it? I wonder what my family would say if
they could see me?"
"I wonder what some of my friends would say if they could see me?"
continued Browne. "If I'd been told a year ago that I should be doing
this sort of thing, I should never have believed it. We never know
what's in store for us, do we? By the way, what's the time?" He
consulted his watch, and discovered that it only wanted ten minutes of
twelve o'clock. "In ten minutes we'll fire the first rocket," he said.
"It's to be hoped it's clear weather. Let us pray that there's not
another vessel outside, who, seeing our signal, may put in and send a
boat to discover what is the matter."
"You're quite sure that the yacht will be there, I suppose?" asked
MacAndrew.
"As sure as I can be," replied Browne. "I told my captain to hang
about at night, and to look round this coast at midnight, so that if we
did signal he might be ready. Of course, there's no saying what may
have turned up; but we must hope for the best. How is our friend
yonder?"
MacAndrew crossed the hut and bent over the man lying on the bed. He
was still sleeping.
"Poor beggar! he is quite played out," said the other. "It will be a
long time before he will forget his tramp with me. I had to carry him
the last three miles on my back, like a kiddy; and in that thick scrub
it's no joke, I can assure you."
Though Browne was quite able to agree with him, he did not give the
matter much consideration. He was thinking of Katherine and of the
meeting, that was shortly to take place between the father and
daughter. At last, after what seemed an infinity of waiting, the hands
of his watch stood at midnight. Having acquainted MacAndrew with his
intention, he took up a rocket, opened the door of the hut, and went
outside. To his intense relief, the fog had drawn off, and the stars
were shining brightly. Not a sound was to be heard, save the sighing
of the wind in the trees behind the hut, and the clinking of the ice on
the northern side of the bay. To the southward it was all clear water,
and it was there that Mason had arranged to send the boat.
"To be or not to be?" murmured Browne, as he struck the match and
applied it to the rocket. There was an instant's pause, and then a
tongue of fire flashed into the darkness, soaring up and up, until it
broke in a myriad of coloured lights overhead. It seemed to Browne,
while he waited and watched, as if the beating of his heart might be
heard at least a mile away. Then suddenly, from far out at sea, came a
flash of light, which told him that his signal had been observed.
"They see us," he cried in a tone of delight. "They are getting the
boat under way by this time, I expect, and in less than an hour we
shall be on board. We had better get ready as soon as possible." With
that they turned into the hut once more, and MacAndrew shook the
sleeping man upon the bed.
"Wake up, little father," he cried in Russian. "It's time for you to
say good-bye to Saghalien."
The instantaneous obedience, which had so long been a habit with him,
brought the man to his feet immediately. Browne, however, could see
that he scarcely realized what was required of him.
"Come," said Browne, "it is time for us to be off. Your daughter is
anxiously awaiting you."
"Ah, to be sure--to be sure," replied the other in French. "My dear
daughter. Forgive me if I do not seem to realize that I shall see her
so soon. Is it possible she will know me after all these long years?
When last I saw her she was but a little child."
"Her heart, however, is the same," answered Browne. "I can assure you
that she has treasured your memory as few daughters would have done.
Indeed, it is to her, more than any one else, that you owe your escape.
But for her endeavours you would be in Dui now. But let us be off; we
are wasting our time talking here when we should be making ourselves
scarce."
"But what about these things?" asked MacAndrew, pointing to the books
on the table, the crockery on the shelf, and the hundred and one other
things in the hut. "What do you intend doing with them?"
"I scarcely know," replied Browne. "The better plan would be for us to
take with us what we can carry and leave the rest. If they are of no
other use, they will at least give whoever finds them something to
think about."
"I wish him joy of his guesses," rejoined MacAndrew, as he led the old
man out of the hut.
Browne remained behind to put out the lamp. As he did so a smile
passed over his face. How foolish it seemed to be taking precautions,
when he would, in all human probability, never see the place again!
The fire upon the hearth was burning merrily. Little by little it
would grow smaller, the flames would die down, a mass of glowing embers
would follow, then it would gradually grow black, and connection with
the place would be done with for ever and a day. Outside it was
brilliant starlight, and for this reason they were able easily to pick
their way down the path towards the place where Captain Mason had
promised to have the boat.
So weak was the old man, however, that it took something like half an
hour to overcome even the short distance they had to go. He could
scarcely have done as much had not MacAndrew and Browne lent him their
support. At last they reached the water's edge, where, to their joy,
they found the boat awaiting them.
"Is that you, Phillips?" inquired Browne.
"Yes, sir, it's me," the third mate replied. "Captain Mason sent us
away directly your signal was sighted."
"That's right," said Browne. "Now, just keep your boat steady while we
help this gentleman aboard."
The boat's crew did their best to keep her in position while MacAndrew
and Browne lifted Monsieur Petrovitch in. It was a difficult business,
but at last they succeeded; then, pushing her off, they started for the
yacht. For some time not a word was spoken. MacAndrew had evidently
his own thoughts to occupy him; Katherine's father sat in a huddled-up
condition; while Browne was filled with a nervousness that he could
neither explain nor dispel.
At last they reached the yacht and drew up at the foot of the
accommodation-ladder. Looking up the side, Browne could see Captain
Mason, Jimmy Foote, and Maas leaning over watching them. It had been
previously arranged that the meeting between the father and daughter
should take place in the deckhouse, not on the deck itself.
"Is he strong enough to walk up?" the captain inquired of Browne. "If
not, shall I send a couple of hands down to carry him?"
"I think we can manage it between us," said Browne; and accordingly he
and MacAndrew, assisted by the mate, lifted the sick man on to the
ladder, and half-dragged, half-carried him up to the deck above.
"Where is Miss Petrovitch?" Browne asked, when they reached the deck.
"In the house, sir," the captain replied. "We thought she would prefer
to be alone there. She knows that you have arrived."
"In that case I will take you to her at once," said Browne to the old
man, and slipping his arm through his, he led him towards the place in
question. When he pushed open the door he assisted the old man to
enter; and, having done so, found himself face to face with Katherine.
She was deadly pale, and was trembling violently. Madame Bernstein was
also present; and, if such a thing were possible, the latter was
perhaps the more agitated of the two. Indeed, Browne found his own
voice failing him as he said, "Katherine, I have brought you your
father!"
There was a moment's hesitation, though what occasioned it is difficult
to say. Then Katherine advanced and kissed her father. She had often
pictured this moment, and thought of the joy she would feel in
welcoming him back to freedom. Now, however, that the moment had
arrived it seemed as if she could say nothing.
"Father," she faltered at last, "thank Heaven you have escaped." She
looked at him, and, as she did so, Browne noticed the change that came
over her face. It was as if she had found herself confronted with some
one she did not expect to see. And yet she tried hard not to let the
others see her surprise.
"Katherine, my daughter," replied the old man, "do you remember me?"
"Should I be likely to forget?" answered Katherine. "Though I was such
a little child when you went away, I can remember that terrible night
perfectly."
Here Madame Bernstein interposed, with tears streaming down her face.
"Stefan," she sobbed, "Heaven be thanked you have at last come back to
us!"
Thinking it would be as well if he left them to themselves for a short
time, Browne stepped out of the house on to the deck, and closed the
door behind him. He found MacAndrew, Maas, and Jimmy Foote standing
together near the saloon companion-ladder.
"Welcome back again," began Jimmy, advancing with outstretched hand.
"By Jove! old man, you must have had a hard time of it. But you have
succeeded in your undertaking, and that's the great thing, after
all--is it not?"
"Yes, I have succeeded," returned Browne, in the tone of a man who is
not quite certain whether he has or not. "Now, the question for our
consideration is, what we ought to do. What do you say, MacAndrew; and
you, Maas?"
"If I were in your place I would get away as soon as possible,"
answered the former.
"I agree with you," put in Jimmy. "By Jove! I do."
"I cannot say that I do," added Maas. "In the first place, you must
remember where you are. This is an extremely dangerous coast about
here, and if anything goes wrong and your boat runs ashore, the man you
have come to rescue will be no better off than he was before. If I
were in your place, Browne--and I'm sure Captain Mason will agree with
me--I should postpone your departure until to-morrow morning. There's
nothing like having plenty of daylight in matters of this sort."
Browne scarcely knew what to say. He was naturally very anxious to get
away; at the same time he was quite aware of the dangers of the seas in
which his boat was, just at that time. He accordingly went forward and
argued it out with Mason, whom he found of very much the same opinion
as Maas.
"We have not much to risk, sir, by waiting," said that gentleman; "and,
as far as I can see, we've everything to gain. A very strong current
sets from the northward; and, as you can see for yourself, a fog is
coming up. I don't mind telling you, sir, I've no fancy for
manoeuvring about here in the dark."
"Then you think it would be wiser for us to remain at anchor until
daylight?" asked Browne.
"If you ask me to be candid with you," the skipper replied, "I must say
I do, sir."
"Very good, then," answered Browne. "In that case we will remain."
Without further discussion, he made his way to the smoking-room, where
he announced to those assembled there, that the yacht would not get
under way till morning.
"'Pon my word, Browne, I think you're right," continued Maas. "You
don't want to run any risks, do you? You'll be just as safe here, if
not safer, than you would be outside."
"I'm not so sure of that," retorted Jimmy; and then, for some reason
not specified, a sudden silence fell upon the party.
A quarter of an hour later Browne made his way to the deck-house again.
He found Katherine and her father alone together, the man fast asleep
and the girl kneeling by his side.
"Dearest," said Katherine softly, as she rose and crossed the cabin to
meet her lover, "I have not thanked you yet for all you have done
for--for him and for me."
She paused towards the end of her speech, as if she scarcely knew how
to express herself; and Browne, for whom her every action had some
significance, was quick to notice it.
"What is the matter, dear?" he asked. "Why do you look so sadly at me?"
She was about to answer, but she changed her mind.
"Sad?" she murmured, as if surprised. "Why should I be sad? I should
surely be the happiest girl in the world to-night."
"But you are not," he answered. "I can see you're unhappy. Come,
dear, tell me everything. You are grieved, I suppose, at finding your
father so changed? Is not that so?"
"Partly," she answered in a whisper; and then, for some reason of her
own, she added quietly, "but Madame recognised him at once, though she
had not seen him for so many years. My poor father, how much he has
suffered!"
Browne condoled with her, and ultimately succeeded in inducing her to
retire to her cabin, assuring her that MacAndrew and himself would in
turns watch by her father's side until morning.
"How good you are!" she said, and kissed him softly. Then, with
another glance at the huddled-up figure in the easy-chair, but without
kissing him, as Browne had quite expected she would do, she turned and
left the cabin.
It was just two o'clock, and a bitterly cold morning. Though Browne
had declared that MacAndrew would share his vigil with him, he was not
telling the truth, knowing that the other must be worn out after his
travels of the last few days. For this reason he persuaded Jimmy to
take him below, and to get him to bed at once. Then he himself
returned to the deck-house, and set to work to make Katherine's father
as comfortable as possible for the night.
Just after daylight Browne was awakened by a knocking at the door. He
crossed and opened it. It proved to be the captain. He was plainly
under the influence of intense excitement.
"I don't know how to tell you, sir," he said. "I assure you I would
not have had it happened for worlds. I have never been so upset in my
life by anything."
"But what has happened?" inquired Browne, with a sudden sinking at his
heart. "Something has gone wrong in the engine-room," replied the
captain, "and until it has been repaired it will be impossible for us
to get under way."
At that instant the second officer appeared, and touched the captain on
the shoulder, saying something in an undertone.
"What is it?" asked Browne. "What else is wrong?"
"He reports that a man-o'-war can be just descried upon the horizon,
and he thinks she is a Russian!"