“Trouble’s my middle name, ladies,” he said. “Come up and make yourselves at home. Hi, cap!” he shouted. “Here’s company.”
I had not an idea of what was in the wind until I saw Tish pick up her knitting bag. Her revolver was in it.
How can I relate what followed? Tish went up first, Lily May was on the ladder, and I was in the very act of tying up, our rope in my hands, when I heard Tish say, “Hands up! You are under arrest.”
Immediately on that, a most terrible uproar broke out above, and a shot rang out. Just after that my poor Tish’s revolver fell into the boat with a terrible thud, and so startled me that I let go of the rope. There was a frightful noise going on overhead, and as I drifted away I heard another shot or two, and then the captain’s voice.
“I’ve got her, the h—— cat!” he called. “Start the engine, Bill. We’d better get out of here.”
And the next minute the engine of the schooner was starting and they were getting the anchor up. The schooner was moving away.
I cannot write my sensations without pain. The schooner starting off; my dear Tish a prisoner on that accursed boat, helpless, possibly injured; and Lily May, who had been placed in our care, on that accursed vessel.
I stood up and called.
“Tish!” I said in agony. “Tish, where are you?”
“I am here, Lizzie,” I heard the dear familiar tones. And that was all.