“Yes, it is difficult to understand. But the cause of the wicked cannot always prosper, and the tangled skein of our destiny will unravel itself in time.”
“So I suppose. We can only hope that the thread of our life doesn’t snap before then. One doesn’t like to feel as if one were so much the sport of fate, as to be like a mere cork on the ocean of life, tossed about with as little ceremony as—as—as that bottle.”
Mr. Cory had found himself somewhat at a loss for a suitable simile, when his eyes fell on a bottle lightly tossing on the rippling water.
“I suppose that bottle is carefully corked, or it would fill with water and sink,” observed Annie, contemplatively.
“Yes, I should imagine it has papers in it,” said her father, “unless somebody has corked and sealed an empty bottle for a freak.”
Both speakers knew of the practice of confiding news concerning sinking or endangered ships to papers sealed in bottles, and felt a subdued interest in the black little object bobbing about the water. How their interest would have been quickened could they have known how Hilton had employed his last night on board the “Merry Maid,” and could they have dreamed that this was perhaps the very bottle whose contents were intended to be instrumental in proving who was really guilty of the great diamond robbery, for the perpetration of which Harley was enduring penal servitude. But so it is. We often strive for the unattainable, and pass our greatest blessings by with indifference.
The derelict ship was by this time quite near, and scores of eager eyes were scanning it, to see if perchance there was not after all someone left on board. But all looked as quiet and deserted as when the wreck had been first sighted, and it was with many a sigh of pity that the hope of still saving some of the crew was abandoned. There had been many suggestions from passengers that the mail boat should slow down, and send some men to board the derelict. But this proposal was negatived by the captain, as he did not believe anybody was on board, and was not justified in losing time for mere curiosity’s sake.
So the great steamer forged ahead, leaving the stranger in its wake, and it was already well astern, when suddenly a long, mournful howl was heard, thrilling every soul on board with a feeling of horror. Once more eyes and glasses were brought into requisition, and then it was seen that a large dog, or, rather, the emaciated skeleton of one, was tottering to and fro on the poop of the dismasted wreck, and howling forth a pitiful appeal for succour to the possible saviours whom, in the semi-obliviousness of exhaustion and starvation, he had failed to see when nearer.
“You will stop the ship now, won’t you?” cried out a dozen people at once. But the captain declined to do any such thing.
“I have my reputation for speed and efficiency to keep up,” he said. “I have no end of competition to fight against, and I cannot afford to lose time for a dog’s sake.”