Chapter 20

TAKEN PRISONER

It must be I lay there practically dead for some time. I had no knowledge of being approached, or handled, and yet every pocket was rifled, the revolver jerked from my hand, and my coat ripped from my body. Like so much carrion the fellows had flung me back against the wall, so as to make room for the swinging open of the door. I lay there huddled up in shapeless disfigurement, blood staining the stones, one arm twisted above my head. Consciousness returned so slowly, the benumbed brain began to flicker into activity before a stiffened muscle relaxed. I was awake, able to perceive dimly, and to realize my situation, before my body responded to action. Returning life seemed to sweep downward as the mind grasped the realities, bringing consciousness of pain, throbbing head and aching muscles. Little by little, silently, comprehending now what had occurred, and warned by the sound of voices not far away, I changed posture slightly, straightening out cramped limbs, and so turning my head as to enable me to see along the passage where a ray of light streamed. There was a mist before my eyes, but this lessened, and I began to view intelligently the scene.

I lay twenty feet from the entrance to this habitation underground, thrust into the black shadow behind the door which stood partially ajar. My position precluded any possibility of learning what was beyond that wooden barrier, but I could plainly view the entire north portion of the interior, although the only light radiated from a flickering candle. One edge of the table came within my vision, a man sitting beside it, his back turned toward me. I made out little of this fellow's characteristics, as I saw only a pair of broad shoulders, encased in a rough shooting coat, and a fringe of black whiskers. He was smoking a short-stemmed pipe, and contented himself with a growling, indistinct utterance when addressed. Opposite, however, was a man of a different type, slender and active, his hair very dark and inclined to curl, a rather long face, slightly olive-hued, with a small mustache waxed at the ends. His black, sparkling eyes attracted me first, and then his long, shapely hands. These grasped a sheet of paper, and I noticed others, including several unopened envelopes, lying before him on the table. He laughed a bit unpleasantly, a row of white teeth visible beneath the dark mustache.

"It's just as I thought, Herman," he said genially. "The fellow is a mere adventurer. There will be no one to take his disappearance seriously. Look at this document."

He held out a half-printed, half-written sheet which I instantly recognized as my discharge, but the big man only nodded, his hands in his pockets.

"I not read English--you know dot," he said placidly.

"True, I had forgotten. This is the fellow's army discharge; only issued six or seven weeks ago at Manila. He was serving in the ranks over there. Got back to this country broke, most likely, and fell into the hands of those schemers up North, willing enough to do anything for a bunch of coin. The poor devil probably has n't got a friend on earth."

"But someone know he come here."

"Only the two who sent him, and they 'll never dare tell, and the woman. She is safe enough. Nigger Pete drove them out here, and we can close his mouth easily enough. It's been easy, Herman, and now with these two settled it leaves me a clear field."

"Maybe so--yes. But vat you think it all mean? I would know how eet vas dey come."

The younger man shuffled the papers restlessly, his eyes on the face of the other.

"I confess there are some details missing, Herman," he said slowly, "but in the main it is clear enough. I take it this man Neale is a damned rascal. He went North to find the heir, discovered that he was either dead, or had disappeared, ran into some scamp of the same kidney as himself, and, between them, determined to cop the coin. That's my guess. Then they picked up this penniless soldier, who, by the way, resembles the missing son a bit, and sent him down here to play the part. Wrote him out full instructions," tapping the papers suggestively, "and then sat down there to wait results."

"Vel, maybe so--but vat about the girl, hey?"

"Someone they picked off the streets. He 's told to do it in this letter. They thought it best to prove their man married, and so had to procure a woman. We won't have any trouble with her."

"Vat you do to be sure?"

"Turn her loose in New Orleans with a few dollars," carelessly. "All she knows about the affair can't hurt us if she does squeal. There are plenty of ways to shut her mouth. I 'll know better how to handle her case right when I see her. Broussard is a long time at his job."

"Perhaps she fight heem--hey?"

"The worse for her--that Creole is a wild-cat. But I wish he would hurry, so we can get through the Gut on the flood tide; that boat draws more water than is comfortable in this lagoon."

"You need not worry," said the German, placidly looking at his watch. "I take eet through safe. She dam good sea boat, an' where I come in I can go out. Ach! 'tis the fellow come now."

The newcomer passed so close beside me I could feel his foot touch mine. As he hurried forward I realized the eyes of the two men would be upon him, and that any movement of mine would be unobserved. The door remained ajar, and, if escape was possible, now was the time. With head reeling dizzily, I crept through the opening, yet held the latch, fascinated by the first spoken words within.

"Well, Broussard, what is it?"

"All seen to, sir."

"The bodies are planted then?"

"The men attended to that."

"And the woman?"

"On her way; there was no trouble. Sallie had her doped, sir."

"I expected she would. Then that finishes our job here, Herman, and the quicker we are off the better." The two men arose to their feet, Herman grumbling something in German, but the younger man interrupted.

"We got the fellow after you left, Broussard; hit him a bit too hard it seems, but no one will ever investigate, so it's just as well. Adventurer named Craig, just discharged from the army."

"Where is he?"

"Lying there in the passage behind the door. Have Peters and Sam bury him along with the others, and then join us. We 'll go aboard."

I shut the door, and started down the passage. For a dozen steps it was black as night; then there was a sharp swerve to the right, and a gleam of daylight in the far distance. Already they were at the barrier, and I ran forward recklessly, eager to escape into the open. The way was clear, the floor rising slightly, yet without obstructions. I could hear voices, the pounding of feet behind, and I made desperate effort to outdistance my pursuers. That they were merciless I knew, and my only hope lay in attaining some hiding place in the weeds before they could emerge into the daylight. I thought of nothing else. But as I burst, straining and breathless into the open, hands gripped me from both sides. An instant I struggled to break free, fighting with a mad ferocity, which nearly accomplished the purpose. I had one down, a bearded ruffian, planting my fist full in his face, and sent the other groaning backward with a kick in the stomach, when the three from within burst forth and flung me face down into the earth, and pinned me flat beneath their weight. An instant later Broussard's belt was strapped tightly, binding my hands helplessly to my sides, and I was hurled over so that I stared up blindly into the face of the fellow in command. His black eyes were sneering, while the unpleasant smile revealed a row of white teeth.

"Great God, man," he exclaimed, "you must have the skull of an elephant. Are you actually alive?"

"Very much so," I gasped, defiant still.

"Maybe I finish heem, Monsieur," questioned Broussard, with knee still planted on my chest. "Then he not talk, hey?"

The leader laughed, with a wave of the hand. "You take the fellow far too seriously. Let him up. I 'll find a way to close his mouth if it ever be necessary. Besides, he knows nothing to do any harm. A bit groggy, my man. Hold him on his feet, you fellows."

I stood helpless, my arms bound, gripped tightly on either side, gazing full into the villain's face; out of the depth of despair and defeat there had come an animating ray of hope--they were going to take me with them. Even as a prisoner I should be near her. Would yet be able to dig out the truth.

"You take heem along, Monsieur?" It was Broussard's voice. "Zat vat you mean?"

"Certainly--why not? There's plenty of work for another hand on board. Trust me to break him in. Come, hustle the lad along, boys. I 'll be with you in a minute."

They drove me forward roughly enough, the German marching phlegmatically ahead, still silently puffing at his pipe, and leading the way along a narrow footpath through the weeds. This wound about in such crazy fashion that I lost all sense of both direction and distance, yet finally we emerged into an open space, from which I saw the chimneys of the old house far away to our left. The path led onward into another weed patch beyond, down a steep ravine, and then before us stretched the lonely waters of the bayou. Hidden under the drooping foliage of the bank was a small boat, a negro peacefully sleeping in the stern, with head pillowed on his arm. Herman awoke him with a German oath, and the way the fellow sprang up, his eyes popping open, was evidence of the treatment he was accustomed to. A hasty application of an oar brought the boat's nose to the bank, and I was thrust in unceremoniously, the three others following, each man shipping an oar into the rowlocks. Herman alone remained on shore, scattering the embers of a small fire, and staring back toward the house. A few moments we waited in silence, then the slender figure of the one who seemed the leading spirit, emerged from out the cane. He glanced at the motionless figures in the boat, spoke a few words to Herman, and then the two joined us, the latter taking the tiller, the former pushing off, and springing alertly into the bow.

Lying between the thwarts, face turned upward, all I could see distinctly was the black oarsman, although occasionally, when he leaned forward, I caught glimpses of the fellow I believed to be the captain of the strange crew. Our boat skirted the shore, keeping close within the concealing shadows, as evidenced by overhanging trees. The only word spoken was a growling command by Herman at the rudder, and the oars were noiseless as though muffled. Yet the men rowed with a will, and scarcely twenty minutes elapsed ere we were scraping along the side of a vessel of some size, and then came to a stop at foot of a boarding-ladder.