Chapter 31

THE OPEN BOAT

Following the first impulse of this alarming discovery I pressed her back into the boat, and crouched low myself behind the protection of the flag locker. The fellow might not have seen us. How still it was; only the swish of water astern, and the continuous patter of rain. The pounding of my heart was like that of a trip hammer, as I listened intently for any movement. For a long moment of suspense there was none; then I heard his heavy step on the deck, as he came slowly forward around the bulge of the cabin. The very manner of his advance told me his uncertainty; something had occurred to arouse suspicion--he had heard a noise, or seen a shadow--and was investigating curiously. He came up to the stern rail, standing still, a huge bulk in the gloom, his gaze on the swinging boat. Then, unsatisfied, he leaned forward, and began to explore with one hand. Apparently he touched something strange; the edge of her skirt it must have been, for there was a bit of cloth in the lifted fingers. Noiselessly I arose to my feet, planting myself firmly on the wet deck. There was but one means of escape now, and big as the fellow was, I must accept the chance. Another minute would mean discovery, and his bull voice would roar the length of the ship. He neither saw, nor heard me, his whole attention concentrated on the boat. Without warning, putting every ounce of strength into the blow, I struck, landing square on the chin. There was a smothered groan, and he collapsed, hurled back bodily, his arms flung up. I heard him thud against the rail, his great form bending to the shock, and then he went over, whirling through the air.

The result was so sudden, so unexpected, as to be all accomplished before I realized its possibility. I saw him go down, blindly clawing with his hands at the open air, and yet it was more a delirium than a reality. There was no splash, no cry, and I leaned over the rail, rubbing my bruised knuckles, and staring down into the black void where the fellow had disappeared, scarcely believing the truth of what I had actually witnessed.

"What is it?" she asked, her voice barely audible. "What has happened?"

Her voice seemed to recall me instantly, to restore my numbed faculties.

"Why, really I hardly know," I answered, yet stepping back to grip the ropes. "The fellow had hold of your dress, did n't he?"

"Yes, oh! I was so frightened, and--and then he jerked me horribly."

"That was when I hit him. I must have got the big brute just right. He fell back as if he had been pole-axed, crashed into the rail, and went overboard."

She looked down into the swirl beneath, clutching the edge of the boat with her hands.

"Is--is he down there--in the water? Do you--you suppose he is drowned?"

"I don't see what else he could be. I did n't mean to kill him; just to knock him out, but I don't believe he had any swim left by the time he hit the water."

"I--I cannot bear to think of it!"

"Now see here," I said, coming back to my senses. "This is all foolishness, and losing us time. I 'm not sorry he is out of the way; it was either his life or ours. He was a big, lawless brute, a murderer at heart, if he was n't in deed. Now there is all the more reason for us to hurry. Have you got the knife?"

"Yes."

"Then get hold of that stern rope; I am going to lower away."

She obeyed me, but it was mechanical, her eyes still fixed upon the water.

"Be quick now," I said sternly, and my hand pressed her shoulder. "Your life depends on your promptness."

I loosened the ropes, permitting them to run slowly through the blocks. There was no creaking, and I rejoiced at the ease with which I sustained the weight, as the boat descended. Slowly it sank below into the darkness, until it was merely a black, shapeless shadow outlined against the water. I felt the strain on my arms as the swell gripped its keel; then the stern swung free, and I knew she was scrambling forward, knife in hand, for the other rope. Almost before the boat could swing about, the second stay dangled, and all my straining eyes could perceive was a dark, indefinite shadow drifting out of sight astern. Without uttering a sound, or wasting a second, I dived from the rail. I came up to the surface, swishing the water from my eyes. Five fathoms away was the shapeless outline of the boat, tossing helplessly on the swell, the girl still in the bow, her very attitude bespeaking terror.

"It's all right," I called, loud enough for her to hear. "Throw out an oar on the left, and hold her. I 'll be there in a minute."

She heard me and understood, for with one sob of relief plainly audible in the still night, she shipped the oar. Weighted by sodden clothes even that short distance tested me, yet her efforts, small as they were, halted the boat's drift, and I made it, almost breathless, when I finally gripped the gunwale, and hung on to regain a measure of strength.

"Oh, thank God!" she exclaimed, staring at me, "I--I thought you were lost."

"My clothes are like lead," I panted. "They dragged me down twice. That's over with now."

"But--but what could I have done if you had not come!"

"Don't think of it; the danger is all over. You need n't pull on the oar; just hold it straight out; that will keep the boat's head forward."

"Can you get over the side?"

"In a moment---yes; as soon as I get my breath back. Did you notice any alarm on board the _Sea Gull_?"

She shaded her eyes with one hand, holding the heavy oar against her body, and looked ahead.

"No; I was not thinking about that--only of your danger, and my awful position. I was never so frightened before."

"Can you still see the vessel?"

"Just a shadow against the sky. I--I think she is moving straight ahead."

"Then we have not been missed, nor the mate. Doubtless he was going below for his supper. Now lean well over to port--yes, the left--and balance the boat; I am going to climb in."

With a struggle, I made it, rolling over the low gunwale, the water draining from me into a pool at the bottom, the slight chill of the night air making me shiver. It was not raining now, although there was a vapory mist in the atmosphere, almost a drizzle. I sat up, and touched her hand where it grasped the oar.

"You are a fine brave girl," I said sincerely, unable to restrain my admiration.

She dropped her head, and began to sob.

"Oh, no, no! I am not," she replied, tremblingly. "I am such a coward. You cannot know the terror I have felt."

"That is the test of courage; you faced peril realizing all you risked. Not one in a thousand would have done as well."

"You--you really think so?" and she glanced toward me, "or are you merely seeking to encourage me? But you are soaking wet, and must be cold."

"A little damp--yes," and I laughed, stretching my limbs, "but there is plenty to do now to keep me warm. Where is the _Sea Gull_? I hardly know in which direction to look."

She pointed over the port bow, and, with an effort, I managed to make out, through the misty gloom, a faint shadow against the sky. Not a light was visible, nor could I decipher any real outline of the vessel. Even as I stared in uncertainty this dim spectral shade vanished, swallowed up in the night.

"Why," she said, "it is gone now; I cannot see it at all any more."

"The best luck that could happen to us. Now we will widen the stretch of water as much as possible." I leaned over, and clawed about until I found the discarded oilskins, and wrapped them about her, despite protests.

"No, not another word, young lady. I shall have to work and cannot be bothered with such things, while you must sit there and hold that oar until we have some sail spread. This mist is as bad as rain; your jacket is soaked already. Have n't you learned yet to obey your captain's orders?"

"I was never very good at that."

"Obeying, you mean? Well, you have no choice now. Hold steady while I step the mast."

Fortunately the spar was not a heavy one. Except for the roll of the boat I could have handled it alone, but fearful of capsizing, I lashed the oar into position, and she helped me steady it down until it rested solidly in the socket. Our eyes met.

"You are not so frightened now."

"Not when I am busy; it--it was being left alone, and--and thought of that drowned man."

"Of course, but my being here makes a difference?"

"Always," she confessed frankly. "Somehow I can never be afraid with you. But--but what shall we do now?"

"I hardly know what to put you at--oh, yes, here is a tin, and you can bail out this water sloshing about in the bottom. That will be valuable service."

"What will you do?"

"Rig up the sail the best I can in the dark; there is breeze enough to give us some headway, and ship the rudder."

"Do you know which direction to steer?"

"Not now, but I have a compass in my pocket; a northeast course would be sure to bring us to the coast, and towns are scattered along. I found that out from Broussard yesterday."

She made no response, bending over with the tin dipper, and I went at my task, straightening out ropes so they would work easily through the blocks. In spite of the darkness I was not greatly hampered, as everything had been stored away in shipshape manner, and came conveniently to hand. The wind freshened perceptibly while I was thus engaged, veering into the southeast, so that all the cloth I dare spread was the jib and a closely reefed mainsail. The boat acted a bit cranky, but, confident she would stand up under this canvas, I crawled back to the tiller, eased off the sheet a trifle more, and waited results. We shipped a bucket full of water, and then settled into a good pace, a cream of surge along our port gunwale, and a white wake astern. The woman kept on bailing steadily, until the planks were dry, and then crept cautiously back to the thwart just in front of me, leaning over slightly to keep clear of the occasional flap of the sail.

I hoped she would speak, and thus afford me some excuse for telling what I had discovered on board the _Sea Gull_, but she sat there in silence, staring straight ahead into the ceaseless drizzle, her oilskins gathered tightly. Holding the tiller under my arm I unscrewed the face of the compass, and made a guess at our position. However, there was no star, or other mark of guidance, by which I could steer; only the wind, which apparently shifted in gusts, and I could merely hold the leaping craft in the course I deemed safest. I doubt if the eye penetrated twenty feet beyond the boat's rail, but we raced through the smother in a way that gave me a certain thrill of exultation. At least we were clear of the _Sea Gull_, and safe enough, unless a storm arose. With the return of daylight a course could be set for the coast, which would n't be far away. So I stared into the darkness, and waited, scarcely bold enough to break the silence.