Chapter 51

IN WHICH PHIL SUFFERS MUCH PAIN, AND MARIAN IS VERY RESOLUTE.

After my catastrophe, the course of the yacht had been altered, and I found that she was now headed to the northward. As I raised my head to change my painful position, I saw the east coast of the lake, not half a mile distant. The breeze was very gentle, and it was a beautiful day. The sun was shining brightly, and the ripple of the clear waters was musical; but I was not in a condition to enjoy the glories of the scene.

I was suffering with a severe pain in the head; but the defeat I had sustained troubled me much more. I wondered, now it was too late, that I had been so stupid as to go to sleep. I felt that I was as great a blockhead as my persecutor had accused me of being, and I forgave him for calling me one. I could not foresee the end of the adventure, or the disastrous results of my mistake. Mr. Whippleton had doubtless been fully alarmed by my statements in regard to his arrest. If he had really sold his yacht, he did not deem it prudent to visit St. Joseph in order to deliver it to the purchaser. He would not find it safe to land at any of the towns on the lake, and I was satisfied that he would make for some obscure port in Canada. He was a shrewd man, and would not incur any needless risk.

As nearly as I could calculate the distance, he would have to run four or five hundred miles to reach any point in Canada. The prospect was not pleasing: I was fond of sailing, but not under the present circumstances. The distance to be accomplished in such a boat would require three days with a favorable wind; and it might take ten. I did not believe Mr. Whippleton would be disposed to run at night, for the whiskey, which he now used without restraint, could be more safely enjoyed in port.

I hoped for some favorable circumstance which would turn the tide in my favor. This was all I could do, for, with my hands securely tied behind me, I was powerless. The skipper had renewed his devotions to the bottle as soon as he waked, and it was possible that the liquor might win the victory for me.

"Go and get us some breakfast, Peter," said Mr. Whippleton, after he had taken a second dram, as he took the helm from the cook.

"Yes, sir," replied Peter, as he went forward.

"I hope you are satisfied now, Phil," added Mr. Whippleton, turning to me with something like a chuckle, as though he had done a great thing.

"I am satisfied on one point," I replied.

"What's that?"

"That I was not mistaken in regard to your dealings with the firm."

"We won't discuss that question now," said he, with a sneer. "I have used you well; I have done everything for you; I have given you all the salary you asked, and given you a chance to get ahead."

"You have given me a chance to get a broken head," I replied, as he paused to think what other good thing he had done for me.

"That's your own fault. After all I had done for you, I have my reward in your ingratitude."

"Did you expect me to help you swindle the firm?" I demanded, indignantly.

"You are not in condition just now to use hard words, and I advise you to clap a stopper on that tongue of yours."

"If I say anything, I shall speak my mind. I know you now perfectly. Last night I thought I might be mistaken about some things. Now I know that you have swindled your partner, and I am not surprised to find that you can handle a bludgeon as well as a pen."

"Better be civil, Phil," said he, biting his lip.

"I have nothing more to say. If you murder me, I shall feel that I have tried to do my duty."

"I don't intend to murder you."

"I have no doubt you will if the occasion seems to require it. I shall trust in God, and leave the crime with him."

He said no more then. When breakfast was ready, Peter relieved him at the helm, and he went below. I heard him talking to Marian, and she answered him with spirit. Though I could not distinguish her words, I was sure that she was protesting against his cruelty to me. In about half an hour he returned to the helm again, and my fair cousin followed him, either with or without his permission.

"How do you feel, Phil?" she asked, taking her place by my side again, and bathing my head with spirits, as before.

"I think my head feels a little better."

"Do you rest easily now?"

"Not very; I have to lie upon my hands or one of my arms."

"Mr. Whippleton, if you are not a brute, you will untie his hands," she continued, appealing to the skipper.

"Then I am a brute," he answered, with a coarse grin.

"Why should you compel him to suffer pain?"

"I hope it will make him change his tone. He is as saucy and as impudent as though he were the victor and I the vanquished."

"He will not be impudent again, if you will unloose him," added Marian, in a gentle, pleading tone.

"Will he promise it?"

"You will--won't you, Philip?"

"I will promise not to say anything to him," I replied.

"He is willing to promise," continued she.

"Then I won't let him loose. He is an obstinate mule, and ready to kick the one who does him a favor. Though I have been his best friend in Chicago, he volunteers to hunt me down like a wild beast. He has his reward."

"But what are you going to do with him?" inquired Marian.

"I intend to shoot him," replied Mr. Whippleton, as he took a draught from his bottle, and then produced a revolver, with which he toyed as though it had been a pet plaything. "I am prepared for the worst, and I shall never be safe while he is above the sod."

"Would you be a murderer?" asked Marian, with horror.

"Phil says I would, and I may be obliged to verify his words."

"I did not think you were such a monster!" exclaimed my fair companion, with a shudder.

"I did not think so myself; but Phil keeps goading me on, and I don't know what I may become. If he had minded his own business, and not troubled himself about mine, he would have been safe in Chicago to-day."

"But you don't mean to kill him?"

"That will depend upon himself--and you."

"Upon me?"

"Yes, upon you, in part."

"What shall I do?"

"Sit down, Miss Collingsby, and make yourself comfortable," he continued, with a smile, as though he were rather pleased with his own reflections.

"I will say anything I can to my father, and I will induce my mother to speak for you," said she, seating herself near my head.

"I know your father better than you do, Miss Collingsby. He would be ashamed of himself to be influenced by you, or by your mother. I won't trust him till I have a hold upon him. I don't ask for any pleading in my behalf, because I know it would do no good."

"What do you wish me to do?"

"I had a rather brilliant thought just now," said he, chuckling, and looking very silly, partly from the effects of the whiskey he had drank, and partly from the nature of his own thoughts.

He paused, as though he was not quite ready to express the brilliant thought. He turned over the pistol in his hand, and glanced foolishly at Miss Collingsby.

"What can I do?" asked Marian, evidently disgusted with his manner.

"I want some security for your father's good behavior," he replied.

"I will plead with him."

"It will do no good."

"What would you have me do?"

"I think I heard you say you would not marry my friend Ben Waterford, under any circumstances."

"I certainly would not," answered Marian.

"Exactly so; I don't wish to do anything to interfere with Ben's plans, for he is a good fellow. We started from Chicago with the intention of having a wedding, and I think we ought to carry out the programme," laughed the skipper. "You are a very pretty girl, Miss Collingsby. As the son-in-law of your father, I think I could make a favorable settlement with him. I am only twenty-seven."

"You have said enough, sir," replied she, indignantly.

"Don't be hasty, my pretty one. If you will do me the honor to become Mrs. Whippleton, it will make everything all right; and really I don't know what else to do with you."

"Don't listen to him, Marian," I interposed, in a low tone. "Go into the cabin, and keep out of his sight."

"This plan will make everything comfortable, Miss Collingsby. Your father will see that he is mistaken, and the business of the firm will go on as usual, with your friend Phil as book-keeper at a thousand dollars a year. Will you accept?"

"No, sir."

"No?"

"Certainly not."

"Then I suppose I may as well make an end of Phil. He is only a stumbling-block in my path," added the wretch, cocking his pistol.

"Gorrificious!" exclaimed Peter, appearing at the companion-way at this moment, so opportunely as to indicate that he had been listening to the conversation. "What you goin' to do with that rewolver, Mr. Whippleton?"

"Go into the cook-room, and mind your business there, you scoundrel," said the skipper, angrily, as he pointed the pistol at the cook.

"Gorrificious!" muttered the man, as he disappeared.

Marian, indignant at the proposal of Mr. Whippleton, followed the cook, and I was alone with my persecutor. The skipper laid his revolver upon the rudder-head, as though the end of the sensation had come for the present. I was left to my own suffering for the next two hours. Mr. Whippleton sat at the helm in silence, perhaps brooding upon the plan his busy brain had devised. Occasionally he raised the whiskey bottle to his lips, and drank. I was afraid that his frequent drams would arouse the fiend within him, and induce him to use his revolver upon me. He was intoxicated, and violently irritated against me. My anxiety for my fate was so great that I almost forgot my aching head and painful limbs. I kept very still. No one had thought to give me any breakfast; but I did not feel the need of it, though a cup of tea would doubtless have done me good.

I was still in doubt whether the whiskey bottle would ultimately prove to be my friend or my foe. The skipper maintained his position at the helm till dinner was ready, and then was able to totter into the cabin, when Peter had taken his place. He did not come on deck when he had finished his meal; but Marian soon appeared, and said he had tumbled into one of the berths. He had taken his revolver with him.

"Can't you turn over, Philip?" said she, standing beside me. "I will cut your cords."

"No! Don't do that. Gorrificious! Mr. Whippleton will kill us all."

But I turned over, as far as I was able, and the resolute girl cut the rope that bound my hands together. She had hardly done so before Peter sprang upon her, and hurled her over to the other side of the standing-room. I disengaged my hands; but the line which secured my feet was made fast to a cleat, and when I attempted to rise, I was thrown down upon the floor. Peter leaped upon me, and shouted for Mr. Whippleton.