CHAPTER XXI
ON BOARD THE SEA GULL
The Captain—for so I must call him—went up first, after hailing the deck in French, and receiving some answer. Then, under Herman's orders, I was hustled roughly to my feet, and bundled aboard. My head still reeled dizzily, and the two men gripping my arms, hurried me over the rail so swiftly my first impressions were extremely vague. I knew the sides of the vessel were painted a dull gray, as nearly an invisible color as could be conceived; I recall the sharp sheer of her bow, the clearness of her lines, and the low sweep of her rail. Less than a 1,000 tons burden, I thought, and then, as my eyes swept aloft, and along the decks, I knew her for either a private yacht, or tropic fruit steamer.
"First stateroom, second cabin," said a new voice, sharply. "Lively now."
"Shall we unloose the ropes, sir?"
"Yes; fasten the door, and leave a guard. Stow away the boat, Broussard. Everything ready, Captain."
I went down a broad stairway, shining brass rails on either side, which led to a spacious after-cabin. A table extended its full length, already set for a meal, and a round-faced negro, in white serving jacket, grinned at me, as the men pressed me between them into a narrow passage leading forward. A moment later I was unceremoniously thrust into a small apartment on the right, the ropes about my wrists loosened, and the door shut and locked behind me. For perhaps five minutes I lay where I had been so unceremoniously dropped, weakened by loss of blood, and dazed by the rapidity of events. I found it hard to adjust my faculties to this new situation. I knew what had occurred, but into whose hands I had fallen, and what was the purpose of this outrage, was beyond my comprehension. One thing, however, was sufficiently clear—these men were playing for big stakes, and would hesitate at nothing to accomplish their purpose. They had already killed without remorse, and that I still survived was itself a mere accident. Yet the very fact that I lived yielded me fresh confidence, a fatalistic belief that my life had thus been spared for a specific purpose. It might yet be my privilege to foil these villains, and rescue Mrs. Henley. It was my belief she was also on board this vessel. I had no reason to assume this, except the wording of Broussard's report which I had overheard. But she was a prisoner, and this vessel would be the most likely place for her to be confined. I sat up, my flesh burning, and stared about. The light shining through the single closed port was dim, convincing me the sun had already set, yet I could perceive the few furnishings of that interior. These consisted merely of a double berth, a blanket spread over the lower mattress, and a four-legged stool. Hooks, empty, decorated the walls, and a small lamp dangled from the overhead beam. As I got to my feet I could feel a faint throb of the engine, and realized we were moving slowly through the water. The glass of the porthole was thick, but clear. I knelt on the berth, and looked out, dimly perceiving the shore-line slipping past, with an ever-broadening stretch of water intervening. Then I sat down helplessly on the stool, and waited for something to occur. Escape was impossible; I could only hope for some movement on the part of my captors.
I had little enough to think over, for the few words spoken in the cellar had furnished no clew. My purpose there was known, and these men had considered it worth while to put me out of the way, and to pick up my companion also, yet I could not directly connect this action with Judge Henley's will. We might have merely crossed their path, interfered with their criminal plans. If so, then it was more than likely our release would not be long delayed. Indeed, the man who appeared to be the chief, had already said he would turn the girl free in New Orleans, where she could do them no harm. New Orleans then was, doubtless, the port for which we sailed. My knowledge of distance was vague, yet that could not be a long voyage, nor one involving any great danger. It was clear they meant no personal harm to her, and they would never have brought me on board alive, if they had deemed it necessary to otherwise dispose of me. These considerations were in the main reassuring, and as I turned them over in my mind I drifted into better humor. Besides, my head had ceased to ache, and a little exercise put my numbed limbs into fair condition.
It was fully an hour after the coming of darkness before I was disturbed. Then the door opened, and the entering gleam of a light swinging in the passage revealed the grinning negro steward bearing a well-filled tray. This he deposited in the berth, while applying a match to the lamp overhead. I saw no shadow of any guard outside, but the fellow made no effort to close the door, and I did not move, confident he was not alone. As he turned to go, however, curiosity compelled me to question him, his good-natured face provocative of courage.