I was conscious now of nothing but a spirit of elation. There was not a pang, not a fear in my thoughts. The old fright-chill along the spine, which hitherto always had come to me when approaching danger, was gone. I was like a boy turned loose for a holiday. All the considerations which cause men to fear danger I had put away. All the responsibilities which hold men to a cautious rôle in life had gone from me. My responsibility toward Betty would be discharged when I had removed for her the danger of Brack. And Betty cared so much for George Chanler that she wouldn’t have him risk his life for her, and consequently there was no reason why anything in the world mattered much to me.
“Faster!” I whispered, digging viciously at the water. “Hurry up; I want it over with.”
“Easy, Brains, easy.”
Pierce silently backed water. We were four or five lengths from the Wanderer’s starboard side, and though we were invisible in the darkness the lights and white paint of the yacht revealed her outlines and superstructure.
“There’s a boat in the water at the stern,” whispered Freddy. “Mebbe it’d be a good thing to cut her loose in case we have to make a getaway.”
“Cut nothing loose,” I whispered contentedly. “Move up to the bow ladder and let’s have it over with quickly.”
He took a stroke forward then backed again.
“Hey! There he is; walking aft. See him? By the last light aft.”
“Yes,” I breathed, as I made out Captain Brack’s figure where Pierce had indicated. “Now hurry and put me aboard, and I may surprise him.”
The canoe moved forward again. Pierce paddled in a semi-circle, heading away from the Wanderer’s side and curving back toward the bows. The yacht was all dark forward, save from a single gleam from a port-hole in George’s stateroom. Leaning well forward in the canoe I held my hands thrust out before me, and presently my finger-tips rested against the Wanderer’s sharp bow.