CHAPTER XVII
A MAN'S METHOD--AND A WOMAN'S
Isobel's drooping was of brief endurance. Elsie and Mrs. Somervillesupported her to the stateroom, and there Elsie sat with her a littlewhile, soothing her as one might comfort a child in pain. Once itseemed that the stricken girl was on the point of confiding in herfriend, but the imminent words died away in a passion of tears. Elsiebesought her to rest, and strove to calm her with predictions of thejoyous days they would pass together when the stress and terror oftheir present life should be a tale that is told.
Isobel, stupefied by some haunting knowledge which appeared to have avague connection with the misfortunes of the _Kansas_, yielded toElsie's gentle compulsion, and endeavored to close her eyes. All wasquiet in the cabin, save for the sufferer's labored breathing, and anoccasional sob, while her wondering nurse smoothed her luxuriant hair,and whispered those meaningless little phrases which have such magicinfluence on the distracted nerves of woman-kind. There was hardly asound on the ship, beyond an unexplained creaking of pulleys, whichsoon ceased.
Mrs. Somerville had gone, in response to Elsie's mute appeal. Somehow,from a piecing together of hints and half phrases, the girl feared apainful disclosure as the outcome of Isobel's hysteria. She was gladit had been averted. If there were hidden scandals in her friend'slife in Chile, she prayed they might remain at rest. She had notforgotten Christobal's guarded words. He probably knew far more thanhe chose to tell of the "summer hotel attachment" between Isobel andVentana at which he had hinted. But, even crediting that passing follywith a serious aspect, why should the daughter of the richest merchantin Valparaiso fall prostrate at the mere mention of the name of adisreputable loafer like Jose the Winebag? To state the fact was torefute it. Elsie dismissed the idea as preposterous. It was clearenough that Isobel's break-down arose from some other cause; perhapsthe relaxed tension of existence on board the _Kansas_, after thehardships borne on the island, supplied a simple explanation.
Through the open port she heard a man walk rapidly along the deck, andhalt outside the door. She half rose from her knees to answer theexpected knock, thinking that Mrs. Somerville had sent a steward toascertain if Miss Baring needed anything. But the newcomer evidentlychanged his mind, and turned back. Then came Courtenay's voice, lowbut compelling:
"One moment, M'sieu' de Poincilit. A word with you."
The French Count! During the whirl of the previous night, and byreason of the abiding joy of her morning's reverie, she had failed tomiss the dapper Frenchman. Once, indeed, she had mentioned him toIsobel, who offered a brief surmise that he might be ill, and keepingto his cabin. Yet, here he was on deck, and possibly on the point ofseeking an interview with the lady to whom he had paid such closeattention during the early days of the voyage. Perhaps Mrs. Somervillehad told him of the fainting fit, and he was about to make a friendlyinquiry when the captain accosted him. But Elsie's ears, tuned to fineprecision where her lover's utterances were concerned, had caught thenote of contemptuous command, and she was even more surprised by theCount's flurried answer in French:
"Another time, M'sieu'. I pray you pardon me now. I find I am notstrong enough yet to venture on deck."
"Oh yes, you are, M'sieu'. I want to give you the chance of your life.Mr. Gray has told me of your behavior, and he charitably added thatyour cowardice and treachery might have arisen from ungovernable fear.Now, if you wish to atone for your conduct, here is an opportunity. Iam taking a boat ashore to try to save some of my men who areimprisoned there. There is a fair risk in the venture. The outcomemay be death. Will you volunteer to take an oar? That would whitewashyour weather-marks."
"It is impossible. I am too feeble. I cannot row."
"Ah, you swine! Can it be possible that you are a Frenchman? Whatsort of countship is it you boast of?"
"Sir, I am a passenger on this ship--"
Courtenay's voice was raised a little.
"Mr. Boyle," he said, "give orders that if this skunk shows his noseinside the saloon again he is to be kicked out. He can eat his mealsin his stateroom, or in the forecabin with the other savages."
Elsie heard every word. She fancied, too, that Isobel was listening,though she gave no sign. But the unknown cause of the captain's angerwas as naught compared with the statement that he was about to leavethe ship. That stabbed her with a nameless fear. "Love looks not withthe eyes, but with the mind;" she saw her idyl destroyed, her sweetdreaming roused into cruel reality. Her understanding heart told herthat Courtenay meant to go without bidding her farewell. She had heardthe lowering of the boat without heeding; he was already climbing downthe ship's side. Soon he would be far from her, perhaps never toreturn. For he was not one to paint imaginary ills, and had he nottold de Poincilit what the outcome of the undertaking might be? Was ithis wish that she should remain in seeming ignorance of his missionuntil it was too late for a parting word? Did he dread the ordeal oftelling her his errand? Even he, so strong and resolute, who had sooften smiled grim death out of countenance, feared the kiss which mightwean him from the narrow way. And she must prove herself worthy ofhim. She must suffer in silence, trusting the All-powerful to bringhim back to her arms.
And then she found Isobel looking at her with frightened eyes.
"Did you hear?" came the tense whisper.
"Yes."
"And you are content to let him go?"
"Ah, God! Yes, content."
"But it is folly. He is the captain. He should not go. We haverisked enough already. Who are these men for whose sake he leaves you,and all of us?"
"I know not, nor do I greatly care, may Heaven help me and them."
"Then you should appeal to him to abandon this mad undertaking. It isnot fair to you. It is more than unfair to those who have entrustedtheir lives to his keeping."
Isobel would have risen in her excitement, had not Elsie leaped to herfeet.
"Oh, Isobel," she cried, all a-quiver with disdain, "can you not foronce conquer the self that is destroying your very soul? Neither byword nor act shall you interfere between Arthur Courtenay and his duty.Would you have him cling ignobly to life like that poor dandy whom hehas sent to herd with savages? Be sure he has not forgotten those whoare beholden to him. We are his first care. Let it be mine to leavehim unhindered in the task he has undertaken!"
Isobel was cowed into silence. Elsie's hero-worship had reached aheight beyond her comprehension. She would never understand how awoman who loved a man could send him voluntarily to his death, and hershallow mind did not contemplate the possibility of Courtenay'srefusing to be swayed by any other consideration than that which hisconscience told him was right.
Thus, at arm's length as it were, they waited until they caught thesharp command "Give way there!" and the plash of oars told them thatthe boat had really started on its journey shorewards. Then Isobel,glancing furtively at her companion, saw the tears stealing down hercheeks, and the situation came back from the transcendental to thatwhich was intelligible to her lower ideals.
"I am sorry," she whispered, catching Elsie's hand timidly. "I saidwhat I thought was for the best. At any rate, it is too late now."
Too late! The other girl groped blindly for the door. She felt thatshe would yield to the strain if she did not go on deck and catch aparting glimpse of the man who had become dearer to her than lifeitself. As she made her way forward, Joey ran to meet her. He waswhining anxiously. He seemed to be demanding that sympathy which shealone could give him. In his half-human way, he was asking:
"Why has my master gone away in that boat? And why did he not take mewith him? When my master goes ashore he never leaves me on board; whatis the reason of to-day's exception?"
On the poop she found Boyle, Christobal, Gray and Walker. A number ofChileans were leaning over the rails of the main deck. All the menwere talking earnestly. It was ominous that they should cease theirconversation the instant she appeared. One man may conceal his f
ears,but twenty cannot. Their studied unconcern, their covert glances underlowered eye-lids, told her that they believed the occupants of thelife-boat were in gravest peril.
She brushed away the tears determinedly, and looked at the boat,already a white speck on the green carpet of the bay. She could seeCourtenay distinctly; some magnetic impulse must have gone out fromher, because she had not been watching him longer than a couple ofseconds when he turned and waved his hand. She replied instantly,fluttering a handkerchief, poor girl, long after it became impossiblefor her to distinguish whether or not he returned her signals. In thecalm glory of the sunlit estuary, he might have been bent on a pleasantpicnic. It was outrageous to think of Good Hope Inlet as a place ofskulls; yet she knew that the sea floor beneath the ship was alreadylittered with bodies of the dead. Women would wait in vain for theirmen to return; why should she be spared?
At last she appealed to Mr. Boyle, who was nearest to her.
"Who is sitting next to Captain Courtenay?" she asked, and she had afleeting impression that he was anxious for her to speak, so quicklydid he answer.
"Tollemache. He shinned down the ladder as the first volunteer; theskipper ordered him to get out, but he said he was deaf. Anyhow, I'mglad he is there. Courtenay ought to have one sure enough white man byhis side."
"And what are they attempting?"
"Huh, it's a bold plan, an' I'm not goin' to condemn it on thataccount. Have you heard this morning's news--how Suarez found out fromthe Indians that eleven of our crew are hiding in a cave on GuanacoHill?"
"Something of it, not all. But why--why has Captain Courtenay gone offin such a hurry?"
"Well, Miss Elsie, he figures that an open effort by daylight is theonly way to rescue them. They will have seen our signals, and they canhardly fail to sight the boat. When he is close inshore they are sureto make a dash for it, and he hopes to get them off before the Indianswake up to the game he is playing. There are eight men in the boat,and, with eleven others to help, there shouldn't be much difficulty inkeepin' the savages at a proper distance."
"How soon--will he--reach the landing-place?"
"Huh, mebbe an hour; an' another hour for the home trip. He'll beaboard for tea."
Boyle uttered that concluding statement a trifle too airily. Elsie,for the first time in her life, knew what it meant to want to screamaloud.
The dog was dancing about excitedly, and whining without cease. Shestooped and took him up in her arms.
"Please, Joey, be quiet," she murmured, her voice breaking with astifled sob. She turned again to Mr. Boyle, who sedulously avoided hereyes.
"Did Captain Courtenay leave any message for me?" she demanded.
"Huh! Message! Why, he will be away only a couple of hours."
The chief officer's tone was gruff, conveying the idea that women askedsilly questions, but his gruffness did not hoodwink Elsie. He hadprepared his replies beforehand.
"Surely you will tell me, Mr. Boyle?" she pleaded wistfully.
"Well, I happen to know there's a letter in the doctor's hands. Butthat is to be given to you in case of accident alone. Isn't that so,doctor? And there's no sign of any accident yet, thank goodness!"
Boyle sighed, like a man who lays down a heavy load. He hadsuccessfully engineered Christobal into the conversation.
The Spaniard drew near. He had heard all that had passed, and tried anew line.
"I was rather hoping that you would not put that awkward query," hesaid, more alive than the sailor to the wisdom of discussing the verytopic which offered so many thorns. "Of course, none of us, least ofall Courtenay himself, disguises the difficulties which confront him.We have not fought the Alaculofs in two serious battles withoutlearning their tenacity of purpose, and the mere fact that the menhidden in that cleft are compelled to remain invisible shows that theyare beleaguered. But the last thing the Indians will expect is theappearance of a boat-load of armed men at this hour, and to take theenemy unawares is the essence of good generalship."
"When am I to have my letter?" she persisted, clinging tenaciously toone clear thought amid the phantasms which thronged her dazed mind.
"Oh, come, now! That is not the hopeless view I want you to take. Inwriting to you, Courtenay was only providing against a mishap. Hewould not go to certain death. He has too high a sense of what is dueto his position as captain of a ship like the _Kansas_, loaded with avaluable cargo and carrying so many lives. Nor does Tollemache impressme as a would-be suicide. Both men think they will succeed, and theyhad not any trouble in obtaining a boat's crew of Chileans. So yousee, there is a general belief in success, not failure."
She felt that the doctor was talking against time. He had instructionsnot to give her that letter until there could be no doubt of the fatewhich had befallen the rescuers. A mist came over her eyes, but shebit her lower lip fiercely, and the white teeth left their deepimpress. The dog squirmed uneasily in her arms, and endeavored to lickher face. Joey's anxiety rivaled her own; had he, too, a premonitionof evil?
Christobal was watching her intently. It was evident he feared theoutcome of any sudden overthrow of her self-control.
"I think," he suggested, with a real sympathy in his voice, "that itwould be better if you went to the saloon, or your cabin. Believe me,I shall come to you with every scrap of news. Boyle will see all thathappens and we shall know the best, or the worst, within an hour."
"If you would help me," she answered dully, "please take the dog away.He is tearing my heart-strings. Poor little fellow, he makes nopretence."
So Joey was fastened up, much against his will, and his piteousprotests no longer added to the girl's agony. She clung to the afterrail, and watched the boat, now a tiny dot hard to discern amidst theripples caused by the inflowing tide. Her intimate acquaintance withthe daily happenings of life aboard told her that Courtenay had chosenthe last hour of flood for his effort, thus gaining the advantage ofthe ebb in the event of the life-boat's being pursued by canoes on thereturn journey. By degrees, a tender little sprig of hope peeped up inher dulled consciousness. The boat was very near the distant rocks,and there was neither sight nor sound of the Indians. Could it be thatthey were afraid--altogether broken and demoralized by the slaughter ofthe preceding night? How quickly the acts of this drama shifted theirscenes! Sixteen hours ago, she and Christobal were actuallyparticipating in the defense of the ship's last stronghold; now, thebroad decks resembled the inner spaces of some impregnable fort, whilethe war was being carried into the enemy's territory. Yet the mortalperil which overshadowed them was threatening as ever. Life seemed tobe doled out grudgingly, by minutes.
Suddenly she had a breathless desire to know why Courtenay was so surethat the men to whose help he had gone were really members of the crew.Christobal, dreading her despairing questions, was standing in theposition he had occupied before Boyle dragged him into prominence. Thechief officer was bracing a telescope against the ensign staff, andkeeping the lifeboat in a full field. Gray, she noticed, was notlooking towards Guanaco Hill, but swept all parts of the coastlineconstantly with his binoculars. The Spaniard's field-glasses wereslung around his neck. He was not using them. He appeared to be deepin thought. More often than not, his glance rested on the eddy createdby the swirl of the current past the ship's quarter. With a species ofdivination, she guessed somewhat the nature of his reverie. The notionstung her into a sort of fury. To quell it, she must speak again.
"Will you tell me now what it was that Suarez found out?" she murmured.
The doctor quickly appreciated her need of material for furtherthought. She wanted to appraise at their true value all thingsaffecting that daring enterprise, bringing the evidence to the bar ofher hopes, and nerving herself to hear the crudest testimony as to itsdangers. He was glad to be able to beguile the next half hour with hisrecital. He suppressed no detail except his own willingness to takeCourtenay's place in the boat. Notwithstanding his slightaffectations, he was a man
of finely-tempered judgment. He saw nowthat Courtenay could not have accepted his offer, nor was it likelythat the men in the boat would follow any other leader than thecaptain. He even smarted a little at the knowledge. A super-sensitivehonor led him to fear that his successful rival might suspect him ofvaingloriousness. Herein Christobal did himself an injustice, andCourtenay a greater one, as he was fated soon to learn.
When Elsie heard of the duplicity practised by Suarez it was good tosee the hot indignation which reddened her brow. She realized that theman was unscrupulous enough to remain silent concerning the capturedsailors, whose unhappy fate had contributed, in no small degree, to thechance which brought him to safety. She instantly fastened on to thetheory that the Indians paid their first nocturnal visit to the ship inthe belief that the vessel would prove as easy a prey as the castaways,whereas Suarez must have fallen beneath their stones and rude hatchetsif he had attempted to board the _Kansas_ in broad daylight. With alla woman's single-mindedness, she regarded the Argentine miner as beingdirectly responsible for Courtenay's hazard, nor would she listen toChristobal's mild protest that nothing could have been done earlier, nomatter how outspoken Suarez chose to be.
The Spaniard encouraged her to debate this point--anything was betterthan the dumb pain of thought--but their talk ceased abruptly when amuttered exclamation from Gray sent Walker flying to the charthouse.Forthwith the trumpet shriek of the siren sent its wild boom across thesilent waters. Elsie needed no explanation of this tumult. OtterCreek was not so far distant that canoes quitting its shelter could notbe seen with the naked eye. She counted sixteen putting forth in acluster, and they all made for the adventurous life-boat.
"That is exactly what our captain expected," Christobal was ready toassure her. "He was certain he would reach the head of the bay beforethe Indians awoke to the meaning of his scheme. By this time, unlesshis plan fails, the men on shore should have joined him, no matter whatnumber of savages may seek to oppose their passage to the boat. Theonly doubtful question is-- Will he be able to beat off the rascalswho are now cutting his line of retreat?"
"Huh!" growled Boyle, "the skipper's out of sight now. Gone into asmall creek or something of the sort. Hope he heard the horn. Let herrip!" he added in a loud shout over his shoulder, and again the sirenflung a warning to the foot of the mountain range.
It was evident that the wonderful eyesight of the Indians practicallyequalled the range of the telescope. The men in the canoes were awareof the lifeboat's disappearance, and their wet paddles flashed in thesun as they tore across the three miles of open water which separatedthe southern promontory from the inner shore of the island. After aphenomenal spell of fine weather in that storm-swept latitude, theatmosphere was transparent and bright as that of Stornoway on a clearday in December. The rays of the sun were reflected from many a blueglacier and ice-covered slope. Even the green of the higher belt offirs was dazzling in its emerald luster, and the copper-hued beechesbeneath shone in patches of burnished gold. Elsie was sick at heartwith the knowledge that red-eyed murder was stalking its prey under theresplendent mantle spread by nature over a scene of rare beauty. In anagony of apprehension she followed the progress of the canoes.Creeping nearer Boyle, she whispered:
"For Heaven's sake, say the life-boat is visible again!"
He held up a hand to enforce silence. A deep hush fell on the ship.
"Listen!" he muttered, so low that Elsie alone caught the words. "Canyou hear firing?"
She thought she could distinguish an irregular patter of dull reports,and the behavior of the Indians showed that additional excitement wastoward. Many of them stood up and waved their arms, possibly as asignal to their allies on shore. The canoes raced madly. Where speedwas vital the rough-hewn native craft were far swifter than thesolidly-built lifeboat, with its broad beam and deep draft.
And that was all. Though they strained their eyes and spoke with batedbreath, never a sight of boat or canoes was obtainable for hours afterthe latter were swallowed up by the trees which shrouded the creek atthe foot of Guanaco Hill.
Isobel Baring, moved by genuine pity for her distraught friend, triedto induce her to leave the deck. But she shrank away, terrified by thefire which blazed from the blue eyes resting on her for an instant.Mrs. Somerville came, but she, too, was repulsed. Elsie spoke no word.She hardly moved. She clung to the rail, and gazed at the deepeningshadows with the frozen stare of abiding horror. All things around herwere unreal, fantastic; she dwelt in a world peopled by her ownterrible imaginings. The smiling landscape was alive with writhingshapes. She fancied it a monstrous jungle full of serpents andgrotesquely human beasts. The inert mass of the _Kansas_, so modern,so perfectly appointed in its contours and appurtenances, crushed herby its immense helplessness. The dominant idea in her mind was one ofvoiceless rage against the ship and its occupants. Why should herlover, who had saved their lives--who had plucked the eight thousandtons of steel fabric from the sharp-toothed rocks time and again--whyshould he be lying dead, disfigured by savage spite, while those towhom he had rendered such devoted service were coolly discussing hisfate and speculating on their own good fortune? That thought maddenedher. Her very brain seemed to burn with the unfairness of it all.When Christobal made a serious effort to lead her away, she threatenedhim with the fierceness of a mother defending her child from evil.
But relief was vouchsafed in the worst throes of her agony. It wassome poor consolation to let her sorrow-laden eyes rest on the far-offtrees which enshrouded him. What would befall her when night came, andthe ship drew back out of the living world into the narrow gloom ofdeck and gangway, she could not know. She felt that her labored heartwould refuse to bear its pangs any longer. If death came, that wouldbe sweet. Her only hope lay in the life beyond the grave. . . . Andwhat a grave! For her, the restless tides. For him! Surely her mindwould yield to this increasing madness.
Boyle or Gray had never relaxed their vigil by her side. It was Graywho made the thrilling discovery that the canoes were returning. Asthe fleet crossed the bay it could be seen that they were towing thelife-boat. But never a sign of any prisoners could the most carefulscrutiny detect. The boat was empty; it was easy to count every man inthe canoes as they passed into Otter Creek. And there were woundedIndians on board many of them. That was a significant, a tremendous,fact. There had been hard fighting, and the boat was captured, butsome, if not all, of the crew must have joined their comrades in thesanctuary of the haunted cave. The accuracy of this deduction wasproved by the presence of the smoke column on the hill. Indeed, theopinion was generally held that its spiral clouds were denser than atany previous hour, thus showing that the defenders were endeavoring tomake known their continued existence.
Elsie awoke from her trance, but, in returning to life, she wastransformed into a stern, resourceful, commanding woman. Her face hadlost its gentleness; the pleasant curves and dimples of mouth and chinhad hardened into a sort of determination; even her slight, gracefulfigure seemed to assume a certain squareness which betokened herresolve to act as her lover would have acted were he the watcher fromthe ship and she the prisoner pent behind that screen of rock and wildforest.
None suspected the mighty force which worked this resolution in hernature. She conducted herself with a cunning that was wholly foreignto her character. Her first care was to hoodwink her companions intothe belief that the strain of the day had passed. She accepted a cupof tea brought by Isobel, expressed her sorrow that if by word or lookshe had given cause for offence, and entered eagerly into the pros andcons of the debate which sprang up as to the best course to pursue onthe following day.
Everyone agreed that nothing could be done that night. If the pillarof smoke were visible at sunrise, and Walker could possibly manage tofire the boilers, Boyle suggested that some sailors in the jolly-boatshould sound a channel along which the vessel itself might steam slowlytowards Guanaco Hill. That, in itself, would be a move of considerablevalue. If
they could lessen the distance between the shore and theship, each yard thus gained would help the prisoners and impose astronger barrier against the Alaculofs, who would probably be dauntedwhen they found that the vessel's mobility was restored.
This proposal was deemed so excellent that they all dined in vastlybetter spirits than any of them anticipated. Christobal, puzzled outof his scientific senses by Elsie's change of manner, kept a close eyeon her. He was amazed to see her eat a better meal than she had eatenfor days, and she was normally a quite healthy young person, with areasonably good appetite.
Boyle and Gray took the first watch, from eight o'clock to midnight.Christobal and Walker shared the next one; by four o'clock it would bedaylight, so the doctor was retiring early to his cabin when he metElsie, by chance as it seemed. She was self-possessed, even smiling,with a certain dour serenity.
"The day's doings have tired me," she said. "I am off to bed. Willyou rap on my door soon after dawn?"
"Yes," he replied, secretly marveling at her air.
"I plead guilty to a slight feeling of nervousness," she went on. "Isyour revolver loaded? Would you mind lending it to me? I think Icould sleep more soundly if I had a reliable weapon tucked under mypillow."
A whiff of suspicion crossed Christobal's mind, but he brushed it asideas unworthy. At five o'clock that day he certainly would not havegranted her request. But now, since the new hope had sprung up thatCourtenay was alive, it was absurd to doubt her motives.
So it came to pass that Diego Suarez, lying asleep in his bunk, awokewith a start to find a shrouded figure bending over him.
"Is that you, Senor Suarez?" asked a voice, which he recognizedinstantly as belonging to the Senorita Maxwell.
"Yes," said he, drowsily.
"Have you the witch-doctor's clothes you wore when you came on boardthe ship?"
"But yes, senorita."
A hand, slight but strong, grasped him by the shoulder. He felt therim of a revolver barrel pressed against his forehead.
"Get up, then! Dress quickly in those clothes, and come out on deck.By the side of your bunk you will find tins of black and white paint tosmear your face and hands. At the slightest refusal on your part to doas I bid you--if you utter a cry or make any noise to attractattention--I shall kill you without another word."
The soft voice had a steely ring in it which persuaded the man fromArgentina that he had better obey. In less than five minutes heemerged from the doorway. The corridor in which his cabin was situatedled into the saloon. Elsie awaited him. A lamp, dimly lighting thegangway, revealed her face. Suarez thought he had to deal with amad-woman. The dog, standing by her side, sniffed at him gingerly, buta muttered "Be quiet, Joey!" prevented any outburst, every fox-terrierbeing a born conspirator.
"What do you wish me to do, senorita?" began Suarez, thinking toplacate her until he could obtain assistance.
"You must obey me in silence," she whispered tensely. "You must noteven speak. One syllable aloud on deck will mean your death. Walk infront of me, up the main companion, and go straight to the ship's side."
"But, senorita!--"
The hammer of the revolver began to rise under the pressure of Elsie'sfinger on the trigger. The man's hair rose even more rapidly. Hisnerve was broken. He turned along the corridor in front of her, notknowing the instant a bullet might crash into his head. The girlfollowed so closely that she almost touched his heels. The dog wouldhave trotted in front, but she recalled him.
When Suarez reached the port rail of the promenade deck, Elsie breathed:
"Climb, quickly, and go down into the canoe by the rope ladder you willfind there."
"The canoe!" gasped he.
"Quick! One, two,--"
Up went Suarez over the rail. He found the top-most rungs of theladder. As he descended, the revolver followed his eyes. When hishead was level with the deck the order came:
"Take the dog and go down."
"I cannot, senorita."
"You must try. You are going down, dead or alive."
He did try. Joey scuffled a little, but Suarez caught him by the neck,and made shift to descend. Elsie was already on the swaying ladderwhen Boyle's voice rang out sharply from the spar-deck:
"Below there! Who is there?"
"I, Mr. Boyle," she answered.
"You, Miss Elsie? Where are you?"
"Here; not so far away."
She was descending all the time. She had cast loose the rope whichfastened the canoe alongside, and her difficulty was to hold the ladderand at the same time, by clinging to the mast, to prevent the canoefrom slipping away with the tide. The revolver she gripped between herteeth by the butt.
Boyle, puzzled by the sound of her voice, ran from the side of thebridge down the stairs and across the deck. He was a second too lateto grasp the top of the mast as it drifted out of reach. He heardElsie utter a low-voiced command in Spanish, and the dip of a paddletold him that the canoe was in motion.
"For the Lord's sake, what are you doing?" he roared.
"I am going to save Captain Courtenay," was the answer. "You cannotstop me now. Please hoist plenty of lights. If I succeed, look outfor me before daybreak. If I fail, good-by!"