Chapter 11

An Unexpected Catastrophe.

If Captain Dilke feared that the Swan would endeavor to escape, he was entirely mistaken. As the two vessels drew near together, he was greatly surprised to see Sandy and Shaky instead of Arno and Jason.

Sandy was at the tiller of the Swan and Martin held the wheel of the Petrel.

Stifling his curiosity, Captain Dilke gave his orders, and soon the two vessels lay side by side, Shaky making the sloop fast to the schooner.

Then Captain Dilke leaped on board the Swan, leaving Martin on the Petrel, both vessels drifting with the wind.

"How did you come in possession of this craft?" demanded Captain Dilke, striding aft to where Sandy stood.

The Scotchman made no answer, and Captain Dilke repeated his question.

At this moment some one grasped him by the arm, and, turning, he met the angry gaze of Judith.

Vainly he strove to break away. Her arms were like bands of steel, and pinioned his own close to his side.

Then he was thrown to the deck, a handkerchief tied over his mouth by the Scotchman and his arms and legs bound with a stout cord, rendering his struggles utterly useless.

After this he was half-dragged down the companion-way and left, lying helpless, upon the cabin floor.

While this was transpiring on board the Swan, Shaky had boarded the Petrel.

Martin greeted him surlily, as he came aft.

"What's the row on the sloop?" asked Martin. "I heard a scuffle of some kind, but couldn't see what was going on from here."

"Nothing," replied Shaky, his grimacing and stammering having deserted him entirely, "only a slight change in commanders. You are now under my orders."

At this Martin flushed angrily and took a step toward the man who had addressed him with so much confidence.

Then his face changed, his eyes dilated, his hands fell nervelessly by his side. Fear took the place of anger.

"You are--it can't be," he gasped, staring into the face of the man before him.

"You remember me, I see," replied the other, coolly. "They call me Shaky; but you are right."

"Does Captain Dilke know who you are?" asked Martin, whose bearing was now one of abject humility.

"Not yet; but he will know soon enough. Just at present he is in a somewhat uncomfortable predicament. The last I saw of him, your wife and Sandy were dragging him down into the cabin of the Swan."

At this Martin's face turned fairly livid.

"Is Judith on board?" he gasped. "I'll do anything you say, only be merciful. It was so many years ago, and I have been sorry for it a thousand times."

"I see you are quite repentant now," smiled the man, whom we will still call Shaky. "Here comes your wife now. We had a long tramp through from your home to Whiting, though she stood the journey as well as any of us."

Martin looked up and saw Judith coming toward him, and he stood like a guilty boy expecting the punishment which he knows he richly merits.

Judith came and stood beside the two men. Martin's eyes were cast down, and she made a number of swift movements with her hands, which Shaky answered in like manner. Then he turned to Martin.

"She wishes to know if you are willing to do as you are told. What answer shall I make?"

"Tell her that I will obey orders," replied Martin, without looking up. "I will not struggle against fate."

Shaky spelled this off rapidly with his fingers, and Judith smiled.

It was like a ray of sunlight breaking through a cloud, and illumined the dark face wonderfully.

In a few moments the fastenings were cast off and the sloop and schooner drifted apart, Sandy remaining on board the Swan, with the imprisoned captain in the cabin and the two boys in the hold.

The Petrel at once bore away, with Martin at the wheel and Shaky in command, Judith descending into the little caboose to prepare food.

The feelings of Captain Dilke, when he found himself alone in the cabin, cannot be described. He struggled frantically with his bonds for a long time, and at last succeeded in releasing one of his hands. It was now only a question of time for him to free himself entirely, and soon he found himself at liberty.

What should he do next? He knew that several hours had passed since he had been thrust into the cabin, and that it was now night, for no light came through the bull's-eye in the deck.

Groping his way cautiously up the companion-way, he tried the door. It was fastened. And, even if it was unfastened, how could he escape the men who stood guard on deck?

Then he bethought himself of the passageway under the cabin-floor. He would wait till a late hour, and then endeavor to escape by that way.

Up to this time he had been so engrossed with thoughts of his own freedom that he had quite forgotten the money which he believed the boys had found. Now it came back to him with redoubled force. Long years of a roving, reckless life had prepared him for almost every emergency. Taking from his pocket a small folding lantern and a diminutive spirit-lamp, he soon got it in working order.

All this time the Swan had been rocking on the waves, but suddenly there was a shock, and then she lay quiet and still.

Patiently the prisoner waited. He heard the noise of feet upon the deck, and then all was silent.

"They have landed, and quitted the vessel," he muttered. "Now is my time to escape."

He struck a match and lighted his little lantern, looking at his watch by its feeble rays. It was past ten o'clock.

As rapidly as possible he searched the cabin thoroughly--the berths, the locker for food, and the bunker for wood.

Having satisfied himself that the money was not hidden in any of these, he unfastened and raised the trap-door, and descended into the vacant place below the floor. Almost creeping on his face, he moved along, noticing at once that the ballast had been moved.

Then the corner of the sack in which the money had been placed caught his eye, and he unfastened the iron bars and moved them to one side. His breath came quick and heavy. He had found the money!

So intent was he in his searching that he had not noticed that the door had closed in the cabin floor. In fact, the rattle of the iron bars as he moved them had drowned the noise of its fall.

His greedy eyes devoured the pile of gold exposed to view, and his hands trembled, and a feeling of suffocation came over him, as he strove to put the sack in condition for removal.

This was finally accomplished, but his arms had grown so weak and nerveless that he could not raise it. In striving to do so, he slipped and crushed his little lantern, leaving himself in total darkness.