"Going on deck?" asked the Captain with a curious smile.
"Yes," I answered.
"All right," he replied, "but first ye must promise me not to spoil that brand new shirt by jumping overboard."
We went up the steps and came to the railing. There was nothing but the black night overhead and the deep-running sea beneath. In the east, over the darkening waters the first rosy flush of the coming day was beginning to appear. Twenty miles away were the high hills of Bharbazonia, their tops faintly visible. Behind those hills I pictured the long white highway, the ancient city of Nischon, the Palace of the King, and Solonika, my poor, doomed Solonika, lying forsaken in her dungeon.
The Captain was no longer at my elbow. He had softly crept away. I heard him chuckling as he went forward in the darkness. I walked moodily to the stern where the busy propeller was cutting the water into swirling eddies. I could not swim that distance. There was nothing left to do but watch the hated country fade from sight.
As I came to the end of the deck cabins a woman arose from her chair and threw herself into my arms.
"Dale," she cried, "Dale, my beloved!"
It was Solonika!
CHAPTER XXIV
L'ENVOI