Chapter 21

THE CARIBBEE.

Bessie Watson stood upon the deck of the Caribbee, and in the darkness of the night she did not at first discover that the vessel was not The Starry Flag. She wondered that Levi, with his accustomed devotion, did not spring to receive her when she came on board; that the steward did not present his smiling face; and that her ever-anxious father failed to assure himself that she did not fall overboard in passing from the boat to the vessel. She was an only daughter, and when she appeared it was customary to "turn out the guard" and pay all the honors.

To say that Bessie Watson was a pretty girl, is saying very little. She was a good girl--and this is saying something more, and something better. Nothing but a true heart and excellent common sense saved her from being spoiled by the indulgence of her father and mother. Another devotee was added to those who adored her; but she refused to be spoiled even by Levi's flattery, if such it could be called; for the young skipper was as sincere in his admiration of her as of the yacht he commanded. Bessie did not pout or flout when neither Levi nor her father appeared to receive her.

The man who had been in the boat with Mat Mogmore was Captain Gauley, the stranger. After handing Bessie on board, he led the way, in silence, towards the cabin. There were no lights on deck, and she could see no difference between the two vessels, even when she had descended the steps into the cabin; for no light appeared there. The darkness had been chosen to help the illusion, and Bessie had to feel her way. She came to the table in the middle of the cabin, and knowing that there were lockers forming seats below the berths, she groped her way to the side of the apartment, and seated herself.

"All hands are busy forward in getting under way," said her conductor, from the steps.

"Where is the steward?" asked Bessie.

"He has been so hurried putting away his stores that he has not been in the cabin."

"Are you a new hand?" asked Bessie, who did not recognize the voice of the man.

"I am; I am only going this trip."

"Send the steward, if you please, to light the lamps," added Bessie, who was reasonable enough to understand that the yacht was going to sea on short notice, and she did not demand any unnecessary attention under the circumstances.

"I will send him right down if I can find him."

Captain Gauley went on deck; and Bessie heard a great rattling of ropes, a swaying of booms, and hasty footsteps above her. She could not see a thing; but she waited in the gloom for the steward to come and light the lamps. The noise on deck indicated that all hands were busy, as the man had said; and even yet she suspected nothing.

Mat Mogmore did not go on shore to see his sick mother. He heard the order of Captain Fairfield to man the windlass and stand by the head sails; then he pulled for the Caribbee, to which his boat belonged. Everything had worked to his entire satisfaction. Levi had been as credulous as he desired him to be, and The Starry Flag was standing out of the bay on her way to Portland.

"How is it?" asked Captain Gauley, in a low tone, as Mat came on deck.

"All right; the yacht is under way," replied Mat.

"We must get off at once, then."

"Don't be in a hurry; wait till the Flag has made a couple of miles, so that Levi won't notice the movements of this vessel. Where is the girl?"

"In the cabin. It is pitch dark there, and she has not found out where she is yet," answered Gauley, with a suppressed chuckle, as though the plan was not only a success, but a capital joke.

The foresail and the mainsail of the Caribbee were hoisted, and her crew were busy in getting up the anchor. By the time the preparations were completed, the yacht had disappeared in the darkness and the distance. The jib was hoisted, and the vessel stood out of the bay in a direction nearly opposite to that taken by the yacht.

Bessie began to be impatient. The yacht was under way, and still the steward did not come; still her father, who had nothing to do with working the vessel, did not make his appearance. Had they forgotten that she was on board? If they had, it would be the most remarkable thing that ever occurred. She could not understand it. She knew, as the vessel was now sailing, that Levi must be at the helm, just at the head of the stairs, and she decided to go up and speak to him. She could see the stars through the opening of the companion-way, and she had no difficulty in finding her way out of the cabin.

"Levi?" said she, as she stepped upon deck.

"He is not here," replied Captain Gauley, who was at the helm.

"Where is he?" asked Bessie; and, without knowing that anything was wrong, things began to look a little strange to her, or rather to feel so, for she could not see anything.

"I really don't know where he is, just now," replied the helmsman. "But he cannot be far off."

"The steward has not lighted the cabin yet," added she.

"The captain told the steward not to do so."

"Did he--why?"

"I think you cannot be accustomed to sailing near the land at night," added Captain Gauley.

"I really am not."

"The light would blind the helmsman's eyes so that he could not see the shore. As soon as we are clear of the Selvages we shall light up."

Bessie was satisfied with this explanation. On board of a Sound steamer she had observed that the windows in the forward part of the saloon were covered with thick canvas at night, so that the glare of the light near the boat should not deepen the gloom beyond it, and thus prevent the pilot from seeing the land, or other vessels in the distance. But she was not satisfied with her situation otherwise. The vessel did not _feel_ like the yacht, and Levi and her father did not appear.

While she stood watching the helmsman, and trying to comprehend the inexplicable position of affairs, she saw a light in the cabin. She looked down, and perceived a woman in the act of lighting a lamp.

"Don't light that lamp!" shouted the man at the helm. "It blinds my eyes so that I can't see to steer."

The woman extinguished the match she was applying to the lamp, and darkness reigned in the cabin again. Who was the woman? She asked the helmsman.

"Your father thought you ought to have a female waiter, and he has obtained one," replied Captain Gauley; but she did not notice the chuckle with which he spoke.

Bessie knew that her father would not have provided a woman without consulting her, and she determined to inquire into the situation. She went down the cabin steps again, guided by faith, rather than sight, and felt her way to the locker where she had before been seated.

"Who is it?" asked the woman, from her place at the forward part of the cabin.

"It is I," replied Bessie. "Did my father employ you as stewardess of the yacht?"

"I guess not," replied the woman. "I'm not anybody's stewardess, I can tell you!"

"Who are you then?" asked Bessie, now really alarmed.

"Well, I'm Mrs. Vincent, of course. This is my husband's vessel, and I never expect to be a servant to anybody," answered the woman, rather indignant at being thought a stewardess, even in the dark. "Now, who are you?"

"I am Miss Watson," replied Bessie, her heart sinking within her, so that she could hardly utter the words.

"Miss Watson! Bless me! What, Mr. Watson's daughter?"

"Yes."

"Well, that is strange, sure enough!"

"Is Captain Dock Vincent your husband?" asked Bessie, almost choked with terror.

"Certainly he is."

"And this vessel is not The Starry Flag?"

"Why, no; it's the Caribbee. How on earth came you here?"

"I supposed it was the yacht--my father's yacht," gasped the poor girl, overwhelmed when she realized that she had fallen into a snare set by her former enemy.

"That's too bad; but I didn't know nothing at all about it. Waldock"--she called her husband by his full given name--"Waldock is up to some awful trick."

It was a consolation to know that the woman was not a party to her husband's wicked scheme. Bessie explained how she had been entrapped; but Mrs. Vincent declared that she did not even know the vessel was to sail that night. She had retired with her two children at nine o'clock, and got up when she felt the motion of the vessel under way.

"Where is she going?" asked Bessie, wiping away the tears that dimmed her eyes.

"We are all going to Australia."

"Where is your husband?" demanded Bessie, with a shudder.

"I'm sure I don't know. He went off to New York; but of course we are not going to Australia without him."

While they were talking, Mat Mogmore came into the cabin, and lighted a lamp.

"Mat, what does all this mean?" said Mrs. Vincent, sharply.

"We have carried the thing out just as Captain Vincent told us to do," replied Mat.

"What did he tell you to do?"

"He left us to get Miss Watson on board. We haven't had a chance to do so before, though we have been watching three or four days for one."

"Why did you wish to get me on board?" inquired Bessie, trembling in every fibre of her frame.

"O, you needn't be frightened, Miss Watson. You are not to be hurt, and you are to be treated as well as if you were on board of the yacht. Three years ago your father and Levi sent Captain Vincent to the state prison. He didn't forget it, and he is going to carry out the plan he began upon then."

"Am I to be carried to Australia?" asked Bessie.

"That depends on your father. If he pays the money Captain Vincent asks, we shall send you back. Your father and Levi served the captain a mean trick, and he always said he would get even with them; and I think he will now."

"But how came you in this vessel, Mat?" asked Bessie.

"I went into the yacht for the sole purpose of doing the little job I finished up to-night," answered Mat, with a sneaking smile.

"O, what a wretch!" exclaimed Bessie.

"A wretch? Well, perhaps I am; but it pays better than going before the mast in the yacht. Captain Vincent has your father this time where he can hold him," added Mat. "Levi has gone off to Portland to sail in the race, and he can't do anything for you this time. If you have a mind to write to your father, and tell him to come down with the rocks, I will see that he gets the letter within a week or so. He must put down about a hundred thousand dollars this time."

"Poor girl!" ejaculated Mrs. Vincent. "I pity you; but my husband is an awful man, and I can't do anything about it."

"We haven't anything against her," said Mat. "She is to have a state-room by herself, and live like a lady. That's the captain's orders. The matter rests there, and it isn't any use to say anything more about it."

Mat went on deck, leaving Bessie to weep over her unhappy fate, with no one but Mrs. Vincent to comfort her.