Junard gazed hard at the shore. He was thinking. Would any one try to get into communication with Cuba here at the cape? There was a question. If a small boat lay near, with lights out, she might get close to the ship without being observed, for it was quite dark, and the loom of the land made it darker than usual. It was nearly six hours' run to the next light, in the Bahamas, across the channel, and the Inagua Bank was too far to the eastward to invite shelter for a small boat. It would be either at the cape, or near Castle Rock, or Fortune Island, he believed, that an attempt might be made to get into communication with the ship. This he must stop. No one must get in communication with the land before daylight. Then he would search every passenger thoroughly, go through all rooms, and take a chance at the result. At Castle Rock he would be on watch, if nothing occurred here.
He gazed steadily into the blackness ahead. The stiff trade wind blew the tops of the seas white. They broke in whitecaps, which showed now and then through the gloom of the night. He strained his eyes, but nothing showed ahead. The glass showed a dull, dark sea; there was nothing in the line of vision within three miles—that is, nothing as large as a whaleboat. He was sure of this. There might be something under the dark loom of the land, but the glass failed to show anything.
"You take a four-point bearing upon the light, Mr. Dunn, and get the distance accurate," said Junard. "The mate took his bearing before he left the deck, but you can take another—we are about abreast now—she's doing exactly sixteen."
Knowing that this would take the second officer until the light bore four points abaft the beam, Junard left the bridge and went aft without notice. He slipped down to the main deck, and went along the gangway until he reached the taffrail. The whirl of the wheel shook the ship mightily here, the long, steel arm of the tiller under the gratings shook and vibrated with the pulsations. The chains drawn taut clanked and rattled in the guides and sounded above the low murmur of the shaking fabric. Junard gazed over the stern and watched the thrust of the screw as it tore the sea white and whirled a giant stream astern that showed sickly white with the phosphorescent glow.
When he turned again, he was aware of some one watching him. A head had appeared and vanished from behind the end of the cabin structure. The captain sprang for it with a bound. He turned the corner in time to see a skirt disappearing into the alleyway leading into the saloon. He was upon it with a catlike rush. He reached the saloon door just as it closed in his face.
Without hesitating an instant, he plunged against it, and it gave way to his great weight and power. He burst with a crash into the saloon.
The under steward who was on watch aft saw an apparition of a man in uniform coming through the door like a bull. He had opened his eyes in time to recognize the captain, who ran right across the cabin and out upon the deck beyond.
Junard was swift. He made a reach for the figure as it flitted into a room which opened upon the deck nearly amidships. His iron grip closed upon the skirt, which stretched out in the wind behind the fleeing figure. Then something struck him full in the face, took his breath, and blinded him. He clung to the cloth, choking, coughing, and blinded; made a grab with his free hand to clutch the person—but his grip closed upon empty air.
When he got the ammonia out of his eyes, which were almost blinded by the scorching fluid, he hurried to his room and bathed his head copiously in cold water until he regained his sight.
"Well, it's a woman, all right," he commented. "We'll have her all right in the morning; she won't get a show to-night to get away with anything. I guess I've got her measure."