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      The isle of dead ships, by Crittenden Marriott—A Project Gutenberg eBook
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<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 69065 ***</div>

<div class="figcenter hide"><img src="images/coversmall.jpg" width="450" alt="" /></div>

<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" />

<h1>THE ISLE <i>of</i> DEAD SHIPS</h1>

<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" />

<div class="chapter">

<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/i_frontispiece.jpg" alt="" /></div>
<p class="caption">“NO,” HE MURMURED, SADLY. “IT IS NOT LAND. IT IS<br />
WRECKAGE.”<br />

<span class="illoright"><i>Page <a href="#Page_74">74</a>.</i></span></p>
</div>

<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" />
<div class="chapter">
<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/i_title.jpg" alt="" /></div>
</div>
<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" />

<div class="titlepage">
<p><span class="xlarge">The</span><br />
<span class="xxlarge">Isle <i>of</i> Dead Ships</span></p>

<p>By<br />
<span class="large">CRITTENDEN MARRIOTT</span></p>

<p><i>With illustrations by</i><br />
FRANK McKERNAN</p>

<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/i_titlelogo.jpg" alt="" /></div>

<p>Philadelphia &amp; London<br />
<span class="large">J. B. Lippincott Company</span><br />
1909</p>
</div>

<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" />
<div class="chapter">
<p class="center">Copyright, 1908<br />
<span class="smcap">By Crittenden Marriott</span><br />
<br />
Copyright, 1909<br />
<span class="smcap">By J. B. Lippincott Company</span><br />
<br />
<br />
Published September, 1909<br />
<br />
<br />
<i>Printed by J. B. Lippincott Company<br />
The Washington Square Press, Philadelphia, U. S. A.</i></p>
</div>

<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" />

<div class="chapter">
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_5">[5]</span>

<h2 class="nobreak">PROLOGUE</h2>
</div>

<p><span class="smcap">There</span> is a floating island in the sea
where no explorer has set foot, or, setting
foot, has returned to tell of what
he saw. Lying at our very doors, in the
direct path of every steamer from the
Gulf of Mexico to Europe, it is less known
than is the frozen pole. Encyclopedias
pass over it lightly; atlases dismiss it
with but a slight mention; maps do not
attempt to portray its ever-shifting outlines;
even the Sunday newspapers, so
keen to grasp everything of interest,
ignore it.</p>

<p>But on the decks of great ships in the
long watches of the night, when the trade-wind
snores through the rigging and the
waves purr about the bows, the sailor
tells strange tales of the spot where
ruined ships, raked derelict from all the
square miles of ocean, form a great<span class="pagenum" id="Page_6">[6]</span>
island, ever changing, ever wasting, yet
ever lasting; where, in the ballroom of
the Atlantic, draped round with encircling
weed, they drone away their lives, balancing
slowly in a mighty tourbillion to
the rhythm of the Gulf Stream.</p>

<p>Fanciful? Sailors’ tales? Stories fit
only for the marines? Perhaps! Yet be
not too sure! Jack Tar, slow of speech,
fearful of ridicule, knows more of the
sea than he will tell to the newspapers.
Perhaps more than one has drifted to the
isle of dead ships, and escaped only to be
disbelieved in the maelstroms that await
him in all the seaports of the world.</p>

<p>Facts are facts, none the less because
passed on only by word of mouth, and
this tale, based on matter gleaned beneath
the tropic stars, may be truer than men
are wont to think. Remember Longfellow’s
words:</p>

<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
<div class="verse">“Wouldst thou,” thus the steersman answered,</div>
<div class="indent">“Learn the secret of the sea?</div>
<div class="verse">Only those that brave its dangers</div>
<div class="indent">Comprehend its mystery.”</div>
</div></div>

<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" />

<div class="chapter">
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_7">[7]</span>

<p class="ph2">THE<br />
ISLE <i>of</i> DEAD SHIPS</p>

<h2 class="nobreak">I</h2>
</div>

<p><span class="smcap">As</span> the prisoner and Officer Jackson,
handcuffed together, came up the gang-plank,
Renfrew, the attorney, standing
on the promenade deck above, turned
from his contemplation of the city of San
Juan as it lay green and white in the
afternoon sun, and bent forward.</p>

<p>“By George,” he cried, exultingly,
“that’s Frank Howard! He’s caught!
Caught here, of all places in the world!”</p>

<p>With hands tight gripped on the rail
he watched the two men until they disappeared
below; then, eager to share his
discovery of the ending of a quest that
had extended over two continents, he
turned and hurried along the deck to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_8">[8]</span>
where two ladies stood leaning against
the taffrail.</p>

<p>“Yes, my dear,” the elder was saying,
“Porto Rico is pretty enough for any
one. It looked pretty when I came, and
it looks prettier as I go. But when you
say it’s pretty, you exhaust its excellences.
I, for one, shall be glad to see
the last of it. And, considering the errand
that takes you home, I imagine that
you don’t regret leaving, either.”</p>

<p>“The errand! I don’t understand,
Mrs. Renfrew.”</p>

<p>“Why! Your—but here comes Philip,
evidently with something on his mind.
Do listen to him patiently, if you can,
my dear. He hasn’t had a jury at his
mercy for a month. Unless somebody
lets him talk, I’m afraid his bottled-up
eloquence will strike in and prove fatal.
Well, Philip!”</p>

<p>Mr. Renfrew was close at hand.</p>

<p>“Miss Fairfax! Maria!” he cried.
“Who do you think is on board, a prisoner?<span class="pagenum" id="Page_9">[9]</span>
Frank Howard! I just saw him
brought over the gang-plank. He escaped
two months ago, and the police have been
looking for him ever since. They must
have just caught him, or I should have
heard of it. Who in the world can I
ask?”</p>

<p>He gazed around questioningly.</p>

<p>“Now, Philip, wait a moment. Who is
Frank Howard? and what has the poor
man done?”</p>

<p>Mr. Renfrew snorted.</p>

<p>“The poor man, Maria,” he retorted,
“is one of the biggest scoundrels unhung.
As state’s attorney it was my duty to
prosecute him, and I may say that I
have seldom taken more pleasure in any
task. I have spoken to you of the case
often enough, Maria, for you to know
something about it. I should really be
glad if you would take some interest in
your husband’s affairs.”</p>

<p>Mrs. Renfrew clapped her hands.</p>

<p>“Of course! I remember now,” she<span class="pagenum" id="Page_10">[10]</span>
said, soothingly. “It was only his name
I forgot. Mr. Howard is that swindler
who robbed so many poor people, isn’t
he, Philip?”</p>

<p>“Nothing of the sort, madam,” thundered
the lawyer. “Frank Howard was
an officer of the United States Navy.
While stationed at this very island of
Porto Rico he secretly married an ignorant
but very beautiful girl, and then deserted
her. She followed him to New
York, and wrote him a letter telling him
where she was. He went to her address
and murdered her—strangled her with
his own hands. He was caught red-handed,
convicted, and would have been
put to death before now if he hadn’t
escaped.</p>

<p>“I am telling this for your benefit, Miss
Fairfax. There is no use in talking to
Mrs. Renfrew; details of my affairs go
in one of her ears and out the other.”</p>

<p>“That may not be as uncommon as
you think, Mr. Renfrew,” consoled the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_11">[11]</span>
girl, laughing. “But, as it happens, I am
especially interested in the Howard case.
I am very well acquainted with one of
the officers who was on his ship when
he met the girl.”</p>

<p>Mrs. Renfrew clapped her hands.</p>

<p>“Oh! of course,” she bubbled. “Of
course! I remember all about it now. It
was Mr. Loving, of course! I had forgotten
that he was on the same ship.
Philip, you didn’t know that Miss Fairfax
was going to marry Lieutenant Loving,
did you?”</p>

<p>Mr. Renfrew turned his eye-glasses on
the girl, who flushed with mingled anger
and amusement.</p>

<p>“Are you a seventh daughter of a
seventh daughter, Mrs. Renfrew,” she
inquired, “that you can read the future?
I assure you that I have had no advance
information on the matter. Mr. Loving
hasn’t even asked me yet. But, of course,
if you know——”</p>

<p>“Good gracious! Isn’t it true? Why,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_12">[12]</span>
I got a paper from New York to-day that
spoke of it as all settled. The paper is
in my state-room now. If you’d like to
see it, we’ll go down. Philip, find out
all you can about Mr. Howard, and tell
us just as soon as you can.”</p>

<p>Mr. Renfrew nodded.</p>

<p>“I’ll go and ask the captain,” he
promised, as the two ladies turned away.</p>

<p>The captain, however, proved not to be
communicative. Not only was he too
busy with the preparations for departure,
but he was nettled because the presence
of the convict on board had become
known. Convicts are not welcome passengers
on ships, like the Queen, whose
chief office is to carry presumably timid
pleasure passengers, and their presence
is always carefully concealed.</p>

<p>“I know nothing at all about it, Mr.
Renfrew,” he asserted, gruffly. “You
had better ask the purser.”</p>

<p>The purser was no more pleased at the
inquiry than his chief had been, but he
hid his vexation better.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_13">[13]</span>“Yes,” he admitted, with apparent
readiness, “Mr. Howard is on board. He
was caught here last week. He was up
at a village called Lagonitas——”</p>

<p>“That’s where his wife lived—the one
he murdered.”</p>

<p>“Is it? I didn’t know. Well, they
caught him. He surrendered quietly—didn’t
try to fight or run. He hadn’t
anywhere to run to, you know.”</p>

<p>“And where is he confined?”</p>

<p>“Amidships—in one of the second-class
cabins. We have plenty vacant this
trip. Officer Jackson is with him, where
he can keep close watch. You tell your
ladies not to be uneasy. He can’t possibly
get out. Jackson has got a hundred
weight of iron, more or less, on him.”</p>

<p>“Jackson, is it? I thought I recognized
him. One of those bulldog fellows that
never lets go. I’m interested in Howard
because it was I who conducted the prosecution
at his trial.”</p>

<p>“Gee! Is that so? It must have been
exciting. He confessed, didn’t he?”</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_14">[14]</span>“Confessed? Not he! Took the stand
as brazen as you please, and swore he
had never seen the woman before he went
to her room that day in response to a
letter and found her dead. It was nothing
less than barefaced impudence, you
know. The proof against him was simply
overwhelming.”</p>

<p>“He denied having married her,
then?”</p>

<p>“He denied everything. Swore it was
a case of mistaken identity. I demolished
that quickly enough. Dozens of people
had seen him up at Lagonitas with the
girl. We even sent for the minister who
performed the marriage ceremony, but
he never arrived—lost at sea on the way
to New York. But there was plenty of
proof, anyway. The jury found him
guilty without leaving their seats.”</p>
<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" />

<div class="chapter">
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_15">[15]</span>

<h2 class="nobreak">II</h2>
</div>

<p><span class="smcap">When</span> Dorothy Fairfax came on deck
again the sun was dropping fast toward
the horizon. A gusty breeze was blowing
and the steamer was pitching slightly in
the short, choppy seas that characterize
West Indian waters. Movement had become
unpleasant to those inclined to seasickness
and this, combined with the comparative
lightness of the passenger list,
caused the deck of the Queen to be nearly
deserted.</p>

<p>Dorothy was glad of it. She wanted
solitude in order to think in peace, and
there was seldom solitude for her when
young men—or old men, for that matter—were
near. They seemed to gravitate
naturally to her side.</p>

<p>Mrs. Renfrew’s words, and especially
the paragraph in the New York paper,
were troubling her. She could see the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_16">[16]</span>
words now, published under a San Juan
date-line:</p>

<div class="blockquot">

<p>“Miss Dorothy Fairfax, daughter of the multimillionaire
railroader, John Fairfax, will sail next
week for New York to order her trousseau for her
coming marriage with Lieutenant Loving, U. S. N.
Mr. Fairfax, who is financing the railroad here, will
follow in about three weeks.”</p>
</div>

<p>That was all; the whole thing taken for
granted! Evidently the writer had supposed
that the engagement had been
already announced, or he would either
have made some inquiry or—supposing
that he was determined to publish—would
have “spread” himself on the subject.
Miss Fairfax had been written up enough
to know that her engagement would be
worth at least a column to the society
editors of the New York papers. Yes,
she concluded, the item must have emanated
from some chance correspondent
who had picked up a stray bit of
gossip.</p>

<p>She had known Mr. Loving for two
years or more, and had liked him. Three<span class="pagenum" id="Page_17">[17]</span>
months before, at the close of the Howard
trial, she had become convinced that he
intended to ask her to marry him, and
she had slipped away to join her father
in Porto Rico in order to gain time to
think before deciding on her answer. And
here she was, returning home, no more
resolved than when she had left.</p>

<p>It was odd that her ship should also
bear Lieutenant Howard, of whom Mr.
Loving had been so fond, standing by
him all through his trial when everybody
else fell away. She had had a glimpse
of Mr. Howard once, and vaguely recalled
him, wondering what combination of desperate
circumstances could have brought
a man like him to the commission of such
a crime.</p>

<p>The judge, she remembered, in sentencing
him to death had declared that no
mercy should be shown to one who, with
everything to keep him in the straight
path, had deliberately gone wrong.</p>

<p>The soft pad of footsteps on the deck<span class="pagenum" id="Page_18">[18]</span>
roused her from her musings, and she
turned to see the purser drawing near.</p>

<p>“Ah! Good evening, Miss Fairfax!”
he ventured. “We missed you at tea.
Feeling the motion a bit? It is a little
rough, ain’t it?”</p>

<p>Miss Fairfax did not like the purser,
but she found it difficult to snub any one.
Therefore she answered the man pleasantly,
though not with any especial enthusiasm.</p>

<p>“Why! no, Mr. Sprigg. I don’t consider
this rough; I’m rather a good sailor,
you know. I simply wasn’t hungry at
tea-time.”</p>

<p>Mr. Sprigg came closer.</p>

<p>“By the way, Miss Fairfax,” he insinuated.
“You know Lieutenant Howard
is on board. If you’d like to have
a peep at him, just say the word and
I’ll manage. Oh!” he added, hastily,
as a slight frown marred Miss Fairfax’s
pretty brows, “I know you must be interested
in his case. He’s a friend of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_19">[19]</span>
Lieutenant Loving, and I read the notice
in the paper to-day, you know.”</p>

<p>The look the girl gave him drove the
smirk in haste from his face.</p>

<p>“The notice in the paper was entirely
without foundation, Mr. Sprigg,” she declared,
coldly. “As for seeing Mr.
Howard, I’m afraid my tastes do not run
in that direction. Besides, he probably
would not like to be stared at. He was
a gentleman once, you know.”</p>

<p>She turned impatiently away and
looked eastward. Then she uttered an
exclamation.</p>

<p>“Why! Whatever’s happened to the
water?” she cried.</p>

<p>The question was not surprising. In
the last hour the sea had changed. From
a smiling playfellow, lightly buffeting the
ship, it had grown cold and sullen. The
sparkles had died from the waves, giving
place to a metallic lustre. Long, slow
undulations swelled out of the southeast,
chasing each other sluggishly up in the
wake of the ship.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_20">[20]</span>It did not need a sailor’s eye to tell
that something was brewing. Miss Fairfax
shivered slightly and drew her light
wrap closer around her.</p>

<p>“Makes you feel cold, don’t it?” asked
Mr. Sprigg cheerfully. “Lord bless you,
that’s nothing to the way you’ll feel before
it’s over. Funny the weather bureau
didn’t give us any storm warnings before
we sailed.”</p>

<p>The weather bureau had, but the warnings
had been thrown away, unposted, by
a sapient native official of San Juan, who
considered the efforts of the Americans
to foretell the weather to be immoral.</p>

<p>“Will there be any danger?”</p>

<p>“Danger? Naw! Not a bit of it. If
you stay below, you won’t even know that
there’s been anything doing. Even if we
run into a hurricane, which ain’t likely,
we’ll be just as safe as if we were ashore.
The Queen don’t need to worry about
anything short of an island or a derelict.”</p>

<p>“A derelict?”</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_21">[21]</span>“Sure. A ship that has been abandoned
at sea for some reason or other,
but that ain’t been broken up or sunk.
Derelicts are real terrors, all right.”</p>

<p>“Some of ’em float high; they ain’t so
bad, because you can usually see ’em in
time to dodge, and because they ain’t
likely to be solid enough to do you much
damage even if you do run into them.
But some of ’em float low—just awash—and
they’re just— Well, they’re mighty
bad. They ain’t really ships any more;
they’re solid bulks of wood.”</p>

<p>“I suppose they are all destroyed
sooner or later?”</p>

<p>The little purser unconsciously struck
an attitude. “A good deal later, sometimes,”
he qualified. “Derelicts have
been known to float for three years in
the Atlantic, and to travel for thousands
of miles. Generally, however, in the
North Atlantic, they either break up in a
storm within a few months, or else they
drift into the Sargasso Sea and stay
there till they sink.”</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_22">[22]</span>“The Sargasso Sea? Where is that?
I suppose I used to know when I went
to school, but I’ve forgotten.”</p>

<p>Mr. Sprigg waved his hand toward the
east and north. “Yonder,” he generalized
vaguely. “We are on the western
edge of it now. See the weed floating in
the water there? Farther north and east
it gets thicker until it collects into a solid
mass that stretches five hundred miles in
every direction.</p>

<p>“Nobody knows just what it looks like
in the middle, for nobody has ever been
there; or, rather, nobody has ever been
there and come back to tell about it. Old
sailors say that there’s thousands of derelicts
collected there.”</p>

<p>“The Gulf Stream encircles the whole
ocean in a mighty whirlpool, you know,
and sooner or later everything floating in
the North Atlantic is caught in it. They
may be carried away up to the North
Pole, but they’re bound to come south
again with the icebergs and back into the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_23">[23]</span>
main stream, and some day they get into
the west-wind drift and are carried down
the Canary current, until the north equatorial
current catches them, and sweeps
them into the sea over yonder.”</p>

<p>“For four hundred years and more—ever
since Columbus—derelicts must have
been gathering there. Millions of them
must have sunk, but thousands must have
been washed into the center. Once there,
they must float for a long time. There
are storms there, of course, but they’re
only wind-storms—there can’t be any
waves; the weed is too thick.”</p>

<p>“I guess there are ships still afloat
there that were built hundreds of years
ago. Maybe Columbus’s lost caravels are
there; maybe people are imprisoned
there! Gee! but it’s fascinating.”</p>

<p>Miss Fairfax stared at the little man
in amazement. He was the last person
she would ever have suspected of imagination
or romance; and here he was, with
flushed cheeks and sparkling eyes, declaiming<span class="pagenum" id="Page_24">[24]</span>
away like one inspired. Most
men can talk well on some one subject,
and this subject was Mr. Sprigg’s own.
For years he had been reading and talking
and thinking about it.</p>

<p>Miss Fairfax rose from her steamer-chair
and looked around her, then paused,
awestruck. Down in the southeast a mass
of black clouds darkened the day as they
spread. Puffs of wind ran before them,
each carrying sheets of spray torn from
the tops of the waves; one stronger than
the rest dashed its burden into Miss Fairfax’s
face with little stinging cuts. The
cry of the stewards, “All passengers below!”
was not needed to tell her that the
deck was rapidly becoming no place for
women.</p>
<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" />

<div class="chapter">
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_25">[25]</span>

<h2 class="nobreak">III</h2>
</div>

<p><span class="smcap">An</span> hour later the deck had grown dangerous,
even for men. The Queen drove
diagonally through the waves, rolling far
to right and to left; and at each roll a
miniature torrent swept aboard her, hammered
on her tightly-fastened doors, and
passed, cataract-wise, back into the deep.
Scarcely could the officers, high on the
bridge, clinging to stanchions and shielded
by strong sheets of canvas, keep their
footing. Overhead hooted the gale.</p>

<p>It grew dark. To the gloom of the
storm had been added the blackness of
the night. Literally, no man could see his
hand before his face; even the white foam
that broke upon the decks or against the
sides passed invisibly.</p>

<p>Still, the ship drove on, held relentlessly
to her course. For it was necessary
to pass the western line of the weed-bound<span class="pagenum" id="Page_26">[26]</span>
sea before turning to the north;
and, until this was done, the Queen could
not turn tail to the storm.</p>

<p>Toward morning Captain Bostwick
struggled to the chart-house and, for the
twentieth time, bent over the sheet, figuring
and measuring. Then, with careful
precision, he punched a dot in the surface
and drew a long breath.</p>

<p>“We are all right now,” he announced.
“We can bear away north with safety.
Nothing can harm us, unless——”</p>

<p>He opened the last chart of the Hydrographic
Office and noted some lines drawn
in red. His brow grew anxious again
and he drew his breath.</p>

<p>“Confound that derelict!” he muttered.
“Allowing for drift, she should
be close to this very spot. If we should
strike her——”</p>

<p>The sentence was never finished. With
a shivering shock like that of a railroad
train in a head-on collision, the Queen
stopped dead, hurling the captain violently
over the rail to the deck below.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_27">[27]</span>The first officer was clutching the rope
of the siren when the crash came. The
slight support it afforded before it gave
way saved him from following his commander,
and at the same time sent a
raucous warning through the ship to close
the collision bulkheads.</p>

<p>As he clung desperately to the rail, the
Queen rose in the air and came down with
another crash; then went forward over
something that grated and tore at her
hull as she passed. But her bows were
buried in the waves, while her screw
lashed the air madly.</p>

<p>Had not the involuntary warning of
the siren sounded, and had it not been
obeyed instantly, the Queen would have
plunged in that heart-breaking moment to
the bottom. As it was, her shrift seemed
short.</p>

<p>The force of her impact on the lumber-laden,
water-logged derelict had shattered
her bows, and only the forward
bulkhead, strained, split, gaping in a hundred
seams where the rivets had been<span class="pagenum" id="Page_28">[28]</span>
wrenched loose, kept out the sea. A
hurried inspection showed that even that
frail protection would probably not long
suffice.</p>

<p>“It’s only an hour to dawn,” gasped
the first officer. “If she can last till
then——”</p>

<p>She lasted, but dawn showed a desperate
state of affairs. The Queen had
swung round, until her submerged bow
pointed to windward and her high stern,
catching the gale, plunged dully northward.
The seas, rushing up from the
southeast, broke on the shelving deck
like rollers on a beach, and sent the salt
spume writhing up the planks and into
the deck state-rooms.</p>

<p>The engine and all the forward part of
the ship were drowned, but the great dining-saloon
and the staircase leading to
the social hall above were still comparatively
dry. In the latter and on the deck
just outside of it the passengers were
huddled. The captain had disappeared,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_29">[29]</span>
licked away by the first tongue of sea
that had followed the collision.</p>

<p>With the earliest streak of light the
first officer decided to take to the boats.
Only three remained, and these had
already been fitted out with provisions.</p>

<p>As the crew and passengers filed into
the first, Officer Jackson, who had several
times come on deck, only to wander restlessly
below again, once more plunged
down into the darkness.</p>

<p>Rapidly yet cautiously he lowered himself
down the sloping passageway, clutching
at the jambs of empty state-rooms to
keep himself from sliding down against
the bulkhead, on the other side of which
the sea muttered angrily. At last he
gained the door he sought, and clung to
it while he fitted a key into the lock.</p>

<p>The electric lights had gone out when
the engine stopped, and not a thing could
be seen in the blackness, but a stir within
told that the room was tenanted. Some
one was there, staring toward the door.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_30">[30]</span>Jackson lost no time.</p>

<p>“Here you!” he blustered, in a voice
into which there crept a quiver in spite
of him. “Last call! The ship’s sinking
and they’re taking to the boats. You gotter
decide mighty quick if you’re going
to come. Just gimme your parole and
I’ll turn you loose to fight for your life.”</p>

<p>A voice answered promptly:</p>

<p>“I’ll give no parole. I’d a deal sooner
drown here than hang on shore. You can
do just as you please about releasing
me. It’s a matter of indifference to me.”</p>

<p>The officer tried to protest.</p>

<p>“I don’t want your death on my shoulders,
Mr. Howard,” he muttered. “Don’t
put me to it.”</p>

<p>Howard laughed sardonically.</p>

<p>“What the devil do I care about your
shoulders?” he demanded. “Turn me
loose, quick, or get out. Your company
isn’t exhilarating, my good Jackson.”</p>

<p>Both men had raised their voices so as
to be heard above the boom of the storm.
As Howard ceased, there came an impact<span class="pagenum" id="Page_31">[31]</span>
heavier than before, followed by faint,
despairing shrieks.</p>

<p>With an oath, Jackson felt his way to
the voice and bent over the berth in which
his prisoner was lying. “Curse you!” he
snarled. “For two cents I’d take you at
your word and let you drown. But I
can’t. Here!”</p>

<p>The clink of a key and the rattle of
metal told that the handcuffs fell away.</p>

<p>“You’re loose now,” continued the officer.
“But, by Heaven, if you try to escape,
I’ll see that you don’t miss the death
you say is welcome. Come on.”</p>

<p>Howard swung his legs over the edge
of the berth.</p>

<p>“That’s fair,” he said. “Go ahead.
I’ll follow.”</p>

<p>Hastily, Jackson led the way up the
slanting passage to the topsy-turvy stairway,
and so to the deck. A single glance
about him and he turned on the other in
fury. “Curse you,” he roared, “you’ve
drowned us both with your infernal palavering!”</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_32">[32]</span>The decks were deserted; not a human
being remained on them. Tossing on the
waves, just visible in the glowing light,
were two of the ship’s boats, crowded
with passengers. The nearest was already
a hundred yards away, and rapidly
increasing its distance. The guard stared
at it hungrily.</p>

<p>“There goes our last chance!” he muttered.</p>

<p>Howard eyed the tiny craft dispassionately.</p>

<p>“Oh! I don’t know,” he said. “If that
boat was your best chance, it was a slim
one. Never mind, Jackson; take comfort
from me. Nobody doomed to hang was
ever drowned. I’ll send you home to
your wife and babies yet—I suppose you
have a wife and babies; people like you
always do.”</p>

<p>“Here! Don’t you take my wife’s
name on your lips!”</p>

<p>“Look! I thought so.”</p>

<p>The boat, poised for an instant on the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_33">[33]</span>
crest of a great wave, suddenly lunged
forward, raced madly down a watery
slope, and thrust its nose deep into an
opposite swelling wave. It did not come
up. Long did the two men on the steamer
watch, but nothing, living or dead, appeared
amid the heaving waves.</p>

<p>At last Howard’s tense features relaxed.</p>

<p>“Well,” he remarked, carelessly.
“That’s a mark to my credit, anyhow.
I’ve saved your life, Jackson. Please see
that you do me no discredit in the ten
minutes that you will retain it.”</p>

<p>The other glared at him stupidly.</p>

<p>“Susan didn’t want me to come,” he
mumbled. “She said I’d never come
back——”</p>

<p>His voice died away into incoherent
murmurs.</p>

<p>Howard looked at the man, and his lip
curled contemptuously. He said nothing,
however, but turned in silence toward
where the boat had sunk.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_34">[34]</span>The next instant he started and
glanced swiftly around him. His eyes
fell on a life-preserver lodged in the
broken doorway by the last wave that had
retreated from his feet. He snatched it
up and buckled it round him; then fastened
one end of a rope beneath his arms
and thrust the other into the hands of the
stupefied officer.</p>

<p>“There! Wake up, man!” he ordered.
“Wake up and stand by!”</p>

<p>Jackson stared at him. “Where?
What? How?” he mumbled.</p>

<p>“Wake up, man! Don’t you see it’s a
woman?”</p>

<p>As he saw the returning intelligence
dawn in Jackson’s eyes, Howard slipped
to the toppling brink of the bulwarks and
stood watching for the next heave of the
sea. As it came, with a white rag sopping
foolishly on its crest, he waved his hand
to the other.</p>

<p>“Give my love to Susan!” he cried, and
plunged downward.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_35">[35]</span>Chaos! The sea into which he dived
was without form and void. Like a grain
of corn in a popper, he was tossed hither
and thither, twisted, wrenched at—all
sense of direction stripped from him.</p>

<p>There was not one chance in a thousand
that he would reach the woman;
not one in a million that he could give her
the least help if he did reach her; the
very attempt became preposterous the
moment he touched the water. Only
blind chance could avail.</p>

<p>The incredible happened. His arm,
striking out, caught the girl fairly round
the waist and fastened there. He did not
try to get back to the ship; he made no
reasoned effort at all; reason was impossible
in that turmoil.</p>

<p>He struggled, no doubt, but the struggle
was unconscious—a mere automatic
battle for life. But he clung to the woman,
gasping, with oblivion pressing hard
upon his reeling brain.</p>

<p>Something seemed to grasp him around<span class="pagenum" id="Page_36">[36]</span>
the waist and drag him backward, and
unconsciously he tightened his arm on
the waist he held, meeting the wrench
as the sea withdrew its support.</p>

<p>Crash! Something had struck him
cruelly, but struck realization back into
his brain. Before he could act, the sea
swelled around him again; but when it
withdrew once more, he knew what had
happened. Jackson was dragging him
back to the wreck, and he had struck
against its side or on its submerged deck.</p>

<p>It was the deck! By favor of Providence
it was the deck! Aided by the
drag of the rope, the last wave washed
Howard and his prize almost to the feet
of the police officer, who braced himself
to withstand the backtow as the water
retreated; then reached down and dragged
both up to momentary safety.</p>

<p>Howard opened his eyes for one instant.</p>

<p>“Didn’t I tell you I would have a drier
death on shore?” he gasped before unconsciousness
claimed him.</p>
<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" />

<div class="chapter">
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_37">[37]</span>

<h2 class="nobreak">IV</h2>
</div>

<p><span class="smcap">Consciousness</span> came slowly back to
Frank Howard. He raised his head, but
otherwise lay still, painfully reconstructing
the world around him. So tightly
was he wedged between a broken ventilator
and a skylight coamings that it
was only with considerable difficulty that
he finally managed to lift himself to a
sitting position and stare dizzily around.</p>

<p>He was alone on the deck, which had
become much steeper than he remembered
it in the gray dawn. Evidently another
bulkhead forward had given way, allowing
another compartment to become filled
with water and causing the bow of the
steamer to sink deeper.</p>

<p>In compensation the stern had risen
somewhat higher, so that the waves broke
against the deck, but no longer rushed
violently up it. The sea, too, had gone<span class="pagenum" id="Page_38">[38]</span>
down, curbed perhaps by the thick mantle
of yellow weed that floated all about.</p>

<p>With much difficulty he scrambled to
his feet, clinging desperately the while
to the ventilator.</p>

<p>“Steady! Steady!” he muttered. “If
I tobogganed down into that water I
shouldn’t get up again in a hurry.” He
held out his hand and noted its tremulousness.
“By Jove! I’m weak as a
cat.”</p>

<p>Rapidly his brain grew clearer. Ship
and sea and sky ceased their momentary
whirlings and settled into their proper
places. He looked up at the zenith, to
which the sun, though still veiled, had indubitably
climbed.</p>

<p>“Six hours at least,” he soliloquized.
“Heavens, I must have been pounded
hard to lie unconscious for that long! If
the old tub has floated six hours she may
float indefinitely. But——”</p>

<p>He stared curiously around him. As
far as his eye could reach stretched the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_39">[39]</span>
yellow gulf-weed, blanketing the blue of
the sea. So thick was it that it held the
Queen comparatively stationary, despite
the strong breeze that pressed against
her.</p>

<p>Howard uttered a cry of dismay.</p>

<p>“The Sargasso Sea,” he groaned.
“We’re inside it—far inside it. Great
Scott!” His brain reeled again. “Where
the deuce is Jackson?” he muttered
irritably. “And where’s that woman?”</p>

<p>Pat to the moment, Jackson thrust his
head out of the doorway of the social hall.
His dark face was pallid now, and he
glared around him wildly. When he saw
Howard standing, his expression brightened.</p>

<p>“So you’re alive,” he rumbled, surlily.
“It takes a devil of a lot to kill some
people.”</p>

<p>Howard stared at the man curiously.
It was hardly the way he had expected
to be greeted.</p>

<p>“Yes,” he answered, slowly, “it takes<span class="pagenum" id="Page_40">[40]</span>
a good deal—sometimes. It didn’t take
much for those poor devils in that boat
you wanted to go in. Where’s the girl?”</p>

<p>Jackson jerked his hand over his right
shoulder.</p>

<p>“She’s in there,” he responded. Then
he hesitated for an instant. “It was a
brave thing you did,” he finished, grudgingly.</p>

<p>Howard shrugged his shoulders.</p>

<p>“Merely a choice of deaths,” he answered.
“I expected the ship to sink
any minute, and, personally, I preferred
to die fighting. How is she?”</p>

<p>“She’s breathing, but that’s all. She
hasn’t moved since I got her aboard.”</p>

<p>“No wonder. She really hasn’t any
right to be alive after what she went
through. Have you done anything for
her?”</p>

<p>“I didn’t know what to do. I took her
into the social hall and laid her on the
sofa and got some whiskey for her, but I
couldn’t get her to take it, and she looked<span class="pagenum" id="Page_41">[41]</span>
so horrible and——” He paused, evidently
shaken.</p>

<p>Howard stretched up his hand.</p>

<p>“I must see her,” he declared. “I’m
pretty shaky still, but if you’ll give me a
lift I’ll try to scramble up beside you and
then we’ll see what we can do.” He took
the hand that Jackson offered. “Now
brace yourself,” he warned. “All set?”</p>

<p>Jackson nodded, and Howard, after an
experimental tug or two, put forth all his
strength and drew himself up to the
other’s side.</p>

<p>“That’s good,” he remarked. “I
guess we’re both worth a dozen dead men
yet. By the way, how did you get the
girl up here?”</p>

<p>Jackson showed more animation than
he had yet done.</p>

<p>“The deck wasn’t so steep when I
moved her,” he explained. “It tilted
worse just as I got her inside. I thought
at first we were going down, but we
didn’t.”</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_42">[42]</span>Howard stepped inside the social hall—which
had never before so belied its
name—and looked around him. After
the bright light of the deck, the room
seemed dark, and for a moment he could
see nothing. Then he caught a glimpse
of something lying on the big athwartship
sofa, and scrambled over to it.</p>

<p>A girl lay there in a crumpled heap.
In her rich golden brown hair alone was
any touch of color. Her eyes were closed
and her lips blue. Her cheeks were so
bloodless that it seemed impossible that
she still lived.</p>

<p>Once she might have been pretty—even
beautiful—but the sea had robbed her of
all charm, leaving only the pitifulness of
youth and womanhood. Howard drew a
long breath as he looked at her, and a
sudden rage rose within him. She should
not die! He had torn her from the sea.
She should not die!</p>

<p>Fragmentary ideas as to the proper
thing to do came back to him. He bent<span class="pagenum" id="Page_43">[43]</span>
down, chafing her wrists and temples;
and then, raising her head, touched Jackson’s
bottle to her lips. A long, shuddering
sigh shook the girl’s body, and
Howard saw a pair of brown eyes open
and stare up at him; then close wearily.
Again he raised her head. “Drink,” he
commanded, as he poured the spirit between
her parted lips.</p>

<p>As the strangling liquor went down,
the eyes flashed open again, and the girl
shook from head to foot with a coughing—so
violent and so prolonged that
Howard feared that he had overdone his
task.</p>

<p>But it soon passed, leaving her conscious.</p>

<p>For a moment she lay still, vaguely
puzzling over her situation. Then recollection
returned with a jerk, and she sat
up.</p>

<p>“I remember,” she gasped. “Oh, that
dreadful wave! To see it come down,
down, down—— Where am I?”</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_44">[44]</span>“You’re back on the Queen. It’s all
right. Try to keep cool. You’ll be better
in a moment.”</p>

<p>The wonder grew in the girl’s eyes.
“The Queen!” she murmured. “The—Queen!
How did I get back?”</p>

<p>“The waves washed you back and we
managed to pull you on board. You had
better rest a while. You have been unconscious
a long time.”</p>

<p>The girl looked from one to the other.</p>

<p>“Thank you! Thank you both,” she
murmured. “I can’t find words now, but—the
others! Were any of them——?”
Her lips moved, but no sound followed.</p>

<p>Howard bowed his head, but he answered
unflinchingly—better the clean,
sharp cut of certainty than dragging
suspense.</p>

<p>“You were the only one in your boat
who was saved,” he answered quietly.
“I know nothing of the other boats.”</p>

<p>The girl covered her face with her
hands. “Oh, poor people!” she moaned.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_45">[45]</span>
“Poor, poor people!” Then she dashed
the tears from her eyes and dragged herself
to her feet, holding fast to the back
of the sofa.</p>

<p>“I am Miss Dorothy Fairfax,” she
said, with a pretty access of dignity.
“And you?” Her eye traveled from one
man to the other.</p>

<p>If Howard hesitated, it was for so
short a time that it passed unobserved.</p>

<p>“This is Detective Jackson, of the New
York police,” he answered steadily, “and
I am Frank Howard, his prisoner.”</p>

<p>“Frank Howard! Not—not——”</p>

<p>“Yes.”</p>

<p>“My God!” For the first time in her
life, Dorothy Fairfax fainted dead away.</p>
<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" />

<div class="chapter">
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_46">[46]</span>

<h2 class="nobreak">V</h2>
</div>

<p><span class="smcap">As</span> Dorothy fell Howard caught her in
his arms and laid her upon the sofa.
Then he faced Jackson.</p>

<p>“Nice thing, this!” he remarked, grimly.
“A very nice thing, considering the
state of affairs. No!” he interjected, as
he saw Jackson’s eyes wander to the girl.
“Don’t worry about her just now. She’s
exhausted, anyway, and she’ll sleep it
off and be all the better when she rouses.
Meanwhile, there’s work for us. We all
need food, and it’s imperative that we
should find some at once. Come.”</p>

<p>The angle of the ship’s deck made examination
both difficult and dangerous;
but when, by the exercise of care, it had
been safely carried out, it was evident that
the voyagers need not fear either starvation
or thirst for a long time to come.
The store-rooms of the Queen were above,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_47">[47]</span>
though only just above, the new waterline,
and in them there was food for
months to come.</p>

<p>It was good food, too, intended for the
consumption of passengers who paid
well. In addition to canned goods, of
which the stock was large and varied,
there was a quantity of ice and fresh
meat, fresh vegetables, flour, biscuits,
sauces, breakfast foods, and so forth, to
say nothing of wines, liquors, and
tobacco.</p>

<p>With water the ship was equally well
supplied. Not only was the saloon scuttle-butt
full, but, after some search,
Howard found two large tanks whose
contents had not even been touched. In
the pantry, just forward of the saloon,
was a refrigerator with cooked food
enough for two or three days.</p>

<p>All these things were not found in an
instant. As it chanced, the pantry came
last; and the moment the cooked food was
discovered, further investigation was<span class="pagenum" id="Page_48">[48]</span>
promptly suspended and preparations
made to comfort the inner man. A plentiful
supply was quickly transferred to
the big saloon-table, where it was held
in place by the fiddles, which had been
put on the night before at dinner and
had not been removed.</p>

<p>Leaving Jackson to brew the coffee, an
art in which he asserted that he was proficient,
Howard went to see after Miss
Fairfax.</p>

<p>As he had expected, he found her sleeping,
her swoon having quietly passed into
slumber. A little color had come back to
her cheeks and to her lips, and her breathing
was regular.</p>

<p>For several moments he stood looking
down at her, noting the sweep of her long
lashes on her cheeks, the delicate penciling
of her eyebrows, and the pure curve
of her parted lips. She was of his own
class in life and—— He checked his
thoughts shortly.</p>

<p>From this girl and all connected with<span class="pagenum" id="Page_49">[49]</span>
her he had been cut off by his trial and
his sentence. Had it not been for the
storm and the wreck, he would never have
spoken to one of her kind again.</p>

<p>Suddenly he realized that her eyes were
open and that she was regarding him
curiously. The next instant she blushed
furiously and struggled to her feet. Howard
did not offer to help her; he did not
dare to.</p>

<p>“Oh!” she begged. “Please forgive
me.”</p>

<p>Howard mumbled something indistinct.
He was too much surprised to speak
clearly. Miss Fairfax, however, did not
accept his presumably polite disclaimer.</p>

<p>“No, but really,” she reiterated, “I
owe you an apology. It was very silly of
me to faint. I was exhausted, and the
discovery——”</p>

<p>“The discovery that you were alone at
sea with a detective and a convicted murderer
appalled you—as well it might. Do
not blame yourself, Miss Fairfax, and do<span class="pagenum" id="Page_50">[50]</span>
not think that I am sensitive. No man
can go through an experience such as
mine and fail to have his cuticle thickened.
Give yourself no uneasiness about
me.”</p>

<p>Dorothy began to reply, when suddenly
the dinner-gong rang out imperatively.</p>

<p>“What’s that?” she gasped.</p>

<p>Howard smiled. “That’s Jackson,” he
explained, “and he’s hungry. Will you
come to dinner?”</p>

<p>But Dorothy did not come to dinner at
once. When she did, ten minutes later,
after a visit to her state-room, which
luckily was far aft and consequently
above water, Howard noted with amused
surprise that in those few minutes she
had managed to bind up her tangled hair
and change her dress for another. She
glanced at the table as she approached
and flushed at Jackson’s glum looks.</p>

<p>“Oh!” she cried. “Why did you wait?
I told you not to.” She slipped into her
seat. “I’m so hungry!” she sighed.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_51">[51]</span>The hot coffee and the abundant meal
lightened the spirits of the trio in spite
of the predicament in which they found
themselves. With a ship, albeit a crippled
one, under their feet and with plenty of
food and water at hand, it was not in
human nature to despair, especially as
the sea had gone down so much that it
no longer threatened them.</p>

<p>To both Jackson and Miss Fairfax the
worst seemed to be over; in a day or two
some one would pick them up, they
thought, and all would be well. Howard
alone, wiser in the ways of the sea,
doubted. He listened to the others’ hopeful
prognostications, but said little.</p>

<p>“I must study the situation before I
can say anything,” was as far as he
would commit himself, even in answer to
a direct question.</p>

<p>When they had finished their meal,
Dorothy rose.</p>

<p>“I’ll clear away these dishes,” she announced.
“I’m sure you two have more<span class="pagenum" id="Page_52">[52]</span>
important things to attend to. Later,
when Mr. Howard has studied the situation,
as he wishes, we will hold a council
of war.”</p>

<p>Howard bowed and went on deck. His
first glance assured him that his worst
fears were true. The Queen was evidently
far within the Sargasso Sea, and under
the impulse of a strong breeze from the
west was steadily driving eastward, into
ever-thickening fields of weeds.</p>

<p>Wreckage was floating here and there,
mute evidence of disasters that had occurred,
perhaps close at hand, perhaps
thousands of miles away. The passages
of open water that had trellised the sea
an hour before had disappeared, and with
them had gone whatever faint hope Howard
might have had of rescue.</p>

<p>No skipper would venture into that
tangle; no boat could move through it;
almost it seemed that one could walk
on it; yet Howard knew that any one
trusting to that deceptive firmness would<span class="pagenum" id="Page_53">[53]</span>
drown, and drown without even a chance
to swim. The weeds would coil round
him, soft, slimy, but strong, and drag him
down.</p>

<p>Like all who have sailed these waters,
Howard had heard many tales of the
great Sargasso Sea, and had whiled away
many an hour listening to the sailors’
yarns of the haven of dead ships buried
far within those tangled confines—a haven
in the middle of the ocean, a haven
without a harbor, a haven where the
ships, dropping to pieces at last by slow
decay, must sink for two miles or more
before they reached the floor of the
ocean.</p>

<p>And into this haven the Queen was
drifting, slowly but surely. Nothing but
sinking could prevent her from moving
onward till she reached the innermost
haven.</p>

<p>What would it be like? he wondered.
Would the wrecks really be crowded together
so that one could pass from one to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_54">[54]</span>
the other? That there had been plenty
of them borne in to make a very continent
of ships he did not doubt, but had
they floated long enough to accumulate to
any great extent?</p>

<p>The sailors declared that the sea was
as large as Europe; that the weed was
impenetrable over an area larger than
France; that there might well be an area
of massed wreckage two or three hundred
miles in diameter. But these were
sailors’ tales. Would they prove true?</p>

<p>“Well?”</p>

<p>Howard turned around. Dorothy and
Jackson had come up behind him and
were staring curiously over the weedy
sea. “Well?” reiterated the latter.</p>

<p>Howard hesitated.</p>

<p>“I fear it is not well,” he answered at
last. “Our chances of escape for the
present seem practically nil.”</p>

<p>Miss Fairfax paled, but Jackson
flushed darkly.</p>

<p>“What are you givin’ us?” he demanded,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_55">[55]</span>
roughly. “The ship ain’t going
to sink, is she?”</p>

<p>“No. That is not the danger. Look
around you.” He waved his hand to the
weed-strewn horizon.</p>

<p>Jackson looked again. “Well! What
of it?” he demanded.</p>

<p>“This! You see how thick the weed is—thicker
even than it was an hour ago.
I’ve sailed these seas long enough to
know what that means. It means that we
have been blown a long way inside the
Sargasso Sea.”</p>

<p>“No ships come here; sailing ships
would lose nearly all their speed, and
steamers would lose all of it, for their
screws would soon be hopelessly fouled.
No vessel will come to rescue us. If we
are ever to leave the Queen, it must be
by our own efforts.”</p>

<p>“What can we do?” asked Dorothy,
quietly.</p>

<p>“That is it exactly. What <i>can</i> we do?
Frankly, I don’t see that we can do anything<span class="pagenum" id="Page_56">[56]</span>
at present. We have no boats, and
nothing but a boat, and a sharp-edged one
at that, could make any way through this
morass. And every minute we are getting
deeper in. The current below catches
our sunken bow, and the wind above
catches our uplifted stern, and both sweep
us eastward—toward the center of the
weed. If we took to a raft we would move
much more slowly—but we would starve
much more quickly—and our chances of
being picked up would not be improved.”</p>

<p>“But what will become of us?”</p>

<p>“I don’t know. It seems likely that
we will be swept into the center of the
sea, where there are supposed to be thousands
of derelicts, the combings of the
North Atlantic for four hundred years—I
say ‘supposed’ because nobody has ever
seen them, but there isn’t much doubt
about it.”</p>

<p>Jackson laughed scornfully.</p>

<p>“What are you givin’ us?” he demanded
incredulously.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_57">[57]</span>Dorothy turned to him.</p>

<p>“It’s all true,” she corroborated, with
a catch in her voice. “Only yesterday
Mr. Sprigg told me about it. He was
wishing for a chance to explore the place,
poor fellow. And now——” She broke
off and turned to Howard. “Isn’t there
any chance at all of our being picked
up?” she asked.</p>

<p>Howard shook his head.</p>

<p>“None, I fear,” he answered, gently.
“I am sorry, Miss Fairfax, more sorry
than I can say; but I fear we shall be on
this wreck or on another for weeks and
months to come. So far as I can see now
we can do nothing till we reach the central
wreckage. There we may find a boat
or the tools to build one—ours are far
under water—or some other way to
escape.”</p>

<p>“It will be desperately hard to wait;
to drift deeper and deeper into this tangle
day after day, hoping that things will
change when they come to the worst; but<span class="pagenum" id="Page_58">[58]</span>
it’s all we can do. Meanwhile we can
thank God that we have food, drink, and
comfortable shelter, and we are on our
way to see what no one has ever seen before
and returned to tell it. Let’s make
the best of it.”</p>

<p>“The best of it!” Jackson’s face
was flushed and his eyes distended.
“The best of it!” he vociferated. “By
Heaven, it’s well for you to yap! You’re
all right here. You’re safe from the
electric chair here. You can afford to
wait and wait. But how about us? How
about me? How about my wife and
children?”</p>

<p>“It’s hard,” Howard assented. “It’s
bitter hard, but——”</p>

<p>“Bah! You’re lying to us! You’re a
sailor and can get us out of this, if you
will. You don’t want to get out. You
hope that you’ll get a chance to escape,
but, by Heaven, you shan’t! I’ll kill you
first! By God, I will!”</p>

<p>“It’s your duty to do so!” Howard<span class="pagenum" id="Page_59">[59]</span>
spoke quietly, but a spot of red glowed
on each cheek. “It is your duty to kill
me rather than let me escape. But it is
not your duty to insult me. I permit no
man to do that, and I warn you not to
repeat your offense.</p>

<p>“For the rest, Miss Fairfax, there is
some reason in what this man says. The
catastrophe which has brought death to
so many, and suffering, both past and
future, to you, has saved me. I am safe
from the electric chair. Anywhere else
in the wide world I would have to shrink
from every casual glance; would have to
lie in answer to every wanton question.
But no extradition runs to the heart of
the Sargasso Sea. So it might seem
natural that I should wish to stay here.
In so far, our excitable friend is right.
But I give you my word of honor, not as
a jailbird, but as the gentleman I once
was, that I am even more anxious to get
out of here than yourself. I have still a
task to do in the world; my view is not<span class="pagenum" id="Page_60">[60]</span>
entirely bounded by the electric chair.
If any faintest chance offers for us to
escape, be sure that I will seize it. But
I am helpless until we reach the central
wrecks and see what aid they have to
offer. Then I will do what a man may.”</p>

<p>“I do not promise to go on to New
York with Jackson, but I do promise to
get you and him safely out of this place,
if it is within my power to do so—and
I believe it will be. Say that you believe
me.”</p>

<p>It was impossible not to believe this
clear-eyed, straight-spoken gentleman,
convicted murderer though he were.
Dorothy held out her hand.</p>

<p>“I believe you,” she said, “and I trust
you.”</p>

<p>Howard looked at the hand doubtfully.</p>

<p>“That is not nominated in the bond,”
he suggested.</p>

<p>“Then we’ll put it in,” returned the
girl. “As for what you have done in the
past—I have forgotten it. We will all
forget it—till then.”</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_61">[61]</span>“So be it—till then!”</p>

<p>The hands of the two met. But Jackson,
standing aside, grunted scornfully.</p>

<p>“I’ll not forget it,” he growled. “Not
for a single minute; not till I get you to
New York. I’ve known your smooth-spoken
sort before.”</p>
<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" />

<div class="chapter">
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_62">[62]</span>

<h2 class="nobreak">VI</h2>
</div>

<p><span class="smcap">Two</span> weeks passed without change in
the situation, except that their end saw
the Queen still deeper in the tangle. The
breeze from the west had continued, but
day by day had grown fainter, until at
last it barely cooled the faces of the
weary passengers. Day by day, too, the
weed and the wreckage in the tangle grew
thicker. Here and there floated broken
spars, fragments of shattered deck-houses,
moss-grown planks, Jacob’s-ladders,
and all the fugitive spoil of the sea.
Broken boats, bottom upward; rafts with
tumbled fragments of canvas screening
perhaps some terrible burden; a red
buoy wrenched from some coast harbor;
a bottle with a little flag bobbing above
it—these appeared, grew nearer, and
dropped astern, sometimes just out of
reach of the Queen.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_63">[63]</span>Several times abandoned ships appeared;
one with a patch of sail gave
Jackson some agonizing alternations of
hope and despair before its final nearness
forced him to admit that it, like their own
vessel, was a derelict, bound for the port
of dead ships. None of this wreckage,
however, kept pace with the Queen. The
tallest caught the wind and the deepest
caught the current, but the Queen caught
both, and moved ahead accordingly.</p>

<p>The marvel of it all affected the voyagers
according to their several natures.
Jackson took it hardest. Used to the roar
of New York and to the electric contagion
of great crowds, and without resources
within himself, the comparative
solitude and the uncertainty drove him
frantic. Had he been alone, he would
never have lived so long; despair would
have robbed him of his wits altogether
and have driven him to end it all by a
plunge over the side. Even as it was, his
state caused his companions grave alarm.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_64">[64]</span>
Howard took care never to let him be
very long out of his sight by day. Fortunately,
he slept like a log at night, and
Howard was able to lock him in his room
late and release him early without his
ever discovering that he had been confined.</p>

<p>This state of affairs, however, could
not continue. Day by day the detective
grew more and more surly, until Howard
began to long for the open conflict that
was sure to come. Had they two been
alone together, he would have speedily
brought affairs to a crisis, but the misery
of Dorothy’s position should anything
happen to himself made him hold off,
hoping that Jackson’s mood might pass.
The worst of it all was the man had a
revolver—the only one on board.</p>

<p>For the rest, Howard seemed to be not
at all troubled. In fact, so far as Jackson
knew, the situation worried him not at all.
Only Dorothy, who, light-footed, had once
come upon him unheard and found him<span class="pagenum" id="Page_65">[65]</span>
on his knees with bowed head and shaking
shoulders, suspected that his lightheartedness
was assumed. On that occasion
she had stolen away as silently as
she had come.</p>

<p>As a matter of fact, Howard, though
wild to get back to the task of which he
had spoken to the others, was yet not
anxious to go to execution. Moreover,
the wonder of the situation appealed to
him mightily, and he tried to be content
to grasp the hours as they came, and not
to worry over the future. After he had
thoroughly explored the reachable portions
of the vessel and had worked out
their position as well as it was possible
with such makeshift instruments as he
could devise, he had devoted himself to
the study of the myriad life that swarmed
among the weeds. A scoop, trailed overboard
for a few minutes, invariably
brought aboard hundreds of living forms.</p>

<p>Something of a naturalist already, he
took delight in studying the sea creatures,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_66">[66]</span>
and in noting the marvellous protective
resemblances by which they hid from foes
or crept upon enemies, themselves similarly
equipped.</p>

<p>In this study he was enthusiastically
joined by Dorothy. No past record of
crime could prevent the intimacy that
sprang up between these two, so like in
tastes and training, thus thrown upon
each other for human companionship.
Again and again Dorothy told herself
that she ought to shrink from Howard
and confine their intercourse to the needs
of bare civility, and, accordingly, for a
time she would devote herself to Jackson
and let Howard go. But Jackson, blameless
police officer as he was, had no resources
within himself to long content an
educated girl like Dorothy, and soon she
would drift back to Howard’s side—much,
it must be owned, to Jackson’s
relief.</p>

<p>Curiously enough, the girl was not unhappy.
The situation, as yet, was too
novel for that. The fact that she could<span class="pagenum" id="Page_67">[67]</span>
see no possible means for rescue did not
greatly trouble her. With the natural resilience
of youth, she threw off her anxiety;
with the natural trust of woman in
man, she was content to leave everything
to Howard, and to put implicit faith in
his promise, vague and unsubstantial
though it was, to do what he could to
save her. This was the more surprising
as he had as yet had no chance to prove
himself capable. Nevertheless, Dorothy
threw all responsibility on his shoulders
and concerned herself no more about the
outcome. If sometimes uneasy questions
assailed her, she drove them away. There
was nothing to do but to trust him. After
she had attended to the meals—a duty
which she insisted upon taking on herself
after the first day—she would join him
at his nets, and together they would pass
away the hours. They grew very friendly
in those days, especially in the long
silences of sympathetic understanding
that ever bind heart to heart.</p>

<p>One day, the fifteenth since the storm,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_68">[68]</span>
after one of these silences, Dorothy
turned to the man impulsively. “Mr.
Howard,” she exploded. “You say you
are not thin-skinned. Won’t you tell me
something about your case?”</p>

<p>Howard flushed. “To what end, Miss
Fairfax?” he asked quietly. “I can say
that I am innocent, of course; but that is
what every convict in the land says. I
could not convince the jury. Is it not
better that I keep silence till I can get the
proof?”</p>

<p>“Nevertheless, tell me.”</p>

<p>“Certainly; if you really wish it.”
Howard’s tones were coolly impersonal.
“On May 8 of last year, I received a
letter in a woman’s writing. It was short
and I remember every word of it. ‘Dear
Frank,’ it said, ‘I am here. Come to see
me at once. Dolores.’ Then followed the
address. Perhaps I was foolish to go, but
I did go—to a cheap lodging-house, where
the landlady told me to ‘go right up’ to
the third floor and knock on the door<span class="pagenum" id="Page_69">[69]</span>
marked 8. The door was ajar, however,
and as I got no answer to my knock, I
pushed it open and looked in. A woman’s
body was lying on the floor. Again I was
foolish. I should have summoned aid at
once. Instead, I went in, and stooped
over the body. Immediately I saw that
the woman was dead; strangled apparently.
As I rose to call for help, the
landlady appeared at the door. Probably
the inference she drew was justified; at
any rate, she tried to blackmail me, and
when I refused to submit she shrieked
and summoned assistance. She declared
that she had seen me choking the woman,
and I was arrested. Later it developed
that some one passing under my name
had married the girl—for she was nothing
more—in a little village near San
Juan at the very time my ship was stationed
there.”</p>

<p>“That, of course, furnished the motive
for the crime. I had, so it was charged,
married the girl and deserted her. Later,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_70">[70]</span>
when she followed me to New York, I had
sought her out and murdered her. There
were plenty of people to swear to the
marriage and to send in affidavits identifying
my photograph as that of the
bridegroom—though, as it seems, none of
them had seen very much of him. Only
the minister who performed the ceremony
was doubtful, and him my lawyers
arranged to bring to New York. He
started, but his ship was wrecked and he
was drowned on the way. All I could
say was that I had never seen the girl
until I looked on her dead body, and that
went for little.”</p>

<p>“Evidently, the girl thought that she
had married Frank Howard. Perhaps she
did marry a Frank Howard; the name is
not uncommon. Perhaps she married
some one deliberately masquerading under
my name. I do not know. At all
events, the case was complete against me,
and the jury found me guilty without
leaving their seats. I escaped and went<span class="pagenum" id="Page_71">[71]</span>
to Porto Rico to look for evidence, but
I was captured before I could find it.
That is all, Miss Fairfax. I cannot blame
you if you agree with the jury.”</p>

<p>“But I don’t——”</p>

<p>The sentence was never finished.
Jackson, who for two hours had been
standing by the rail, staring northward,
suddenly whirled around and came
toward the two, pistol in hand.</p>

<p>“Put your fists up,” he ordered Howard
tensely. “Up! Quick! Hang you!”</p>

<p>Taken by surprise, Howard could do
nothing but obey.</p>

<p>Jackson laughed madly. “You’ve run
things just about long enough,” he grated.
“We’ve been driftin’ in this wreck for
two weeks now and I’m dog tired of it.
I ain’t no sailor, but I know when a man’s
givin’ me the double cross, and you’re
doin’ it. You’ve got to get us out of
this.”</p>

<p>Howard’s face grew dark. “Kindly
specify?” he said.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_72">[72]</span>The other glared at him. “Don’t you
try to bluff me with your big words,” he
shouted. “I won’t have it. You’ve been
lettin’ on that you wanted to get us out
of this and all the time you’ve been lettin’
us drift deeper in. You don’t want us to
get away at all, for all your smooth talk.”</p>

<p>“I told you that I was helpless until
we reached the central mass of wrecks
and——”</p>

<p>“Yah! You and your mass of wrecks!
I ain’t no come-on. You can’t work no
con game on me. I never took no stock
in those fairy tales, but I thought I’d let
you play your game out. Now I’m tired
of it, and it’s up to you to do something
quick!”</p>

<p>Howard shrugged his shoulders.
“With pleasure,” he agreed, “if you’ll
kindly tell me what to do.”</p>

<p>“How do I know? I ain’t no sailor.
You are! And you’re going straight
back to your state-room and stay there till
you study out some plan to get us out<span class="pagenum" id="Page_73">[73]</span>
of this. You belong in quod, anyway,
and you’re going to stay there—with the
bracelets on, too, until you get us out of
this. March, now.”</p>

<p>But Howard shook his head. “I’ll
never wear irons again,” he declared.
“Never! You’re armed and I’m not.
You can kill me, but you can’t jail me.
Make up your mind to that. As for the
central mass of wrecks, it must exist; it’s
impossible that it should not exist. The
only question is as to the area it covers.
If you can—— By Jove!”</p>

<p>His eyes left the detective’s face and
travelled into space. “Fool,” he cried,
“look yonder.”</p>

<p>Jackson laughed scornfully. “Not good
enough,” he cried. “You can’t fool——”</p>

<p>But Dorothy broke in. “Land! Land!”
she cried.</p>

<p>In spite of himself the detective looked
around. Through the haze before them
loomed what seemed to be the bulk of an
island, set with lofty tiers and dark<span class="pagenum" id="Page_74">[74]</span>
beaches on which white houses gleamed
in the setting sun. So real it seemed that
the happy tears streamed from Dorothy’s
eyes. “Oh!” she sobbed, “it’s land!
land! land!”</p>

<p>Howard’s voice came to her from afar
off. “No,” he murmured, sadly. “It is
not land. It is wreckage. We have
reached our destination.”</p>

<p>Moved by a slight breeze, the haze
shredded away and there, on the waters
before them, stretching away to right and
to left, lay an interminable mass of
wrecks of every shape and description,
banked together so thickly that they
seemed to touch—and did touch—each
other. Dead! all of them. Some newly
dead; others long dead; but all unburied,
waiting in the haven of dead ships for the
long-deferred end. The trees were not
trees, but masts hung with ravelled cordage;
the beaches were the black hulls of
ships; and the white houses were deck-houses
or patches of canvas.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_75">[75]</span>For a moment no one spoke. Dorothy
stood staring, every muscle tense, while
the tears dripped slowly from her distended
eyes. Jackson’s mouth fell open; his
pistol hand fell nerveless to his side. For
the first time he realized the situation.</p>

<p>As they gazed, the sun with tropic suddenness
dropped below the horizon and
hid the scene.</p>

<p>Howard’s voice broke the silence.
“Now,” he encouraged, “we can get to
work.”</p>
<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" />

<div class="chapter">
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_76">[76]</span>

<h2 class="nobreak">VII</h2>
</div>

<p><span class="smcap">It</span> was late that night before the voyagers
dropped into uneasy slumber. The
wonder of their situation, suddenly
brought home to them, had roused them
all to unusual volubility. In the excitement
consequent on the discovery of the
massed wrecks even Jackson forgot his
suspicions, and the three talked together
freely. Howard had promised that they
should join the wrecks, and they had done
so. Now he would have a chance to keep
his other promise to get them out; in the
first flush of arrival they did not doubt
that he would do so.</p>

<p>But Jackson, at least, changed his
opinion the next morning when he came
on deck and viewed the scene before him.</p>

<p>During the night the Queen, drawn by
the same natural attraction that holds the
planets in their sphere and brings floating<span class="pagenum" id="Page_77">[77]</span>
chips together in a basin, had taken
its place with the dead ships. Under her
counter lay a water-logged schooner; beside
her rubbed a dismasted sailing-ship;
over her submerged bow hung a tramp
steamer, whose blackened masts, bare of
cordage, gave evidence of the flames that
had ravaged her. Beyond, stretched a
mass of wreckage, ship pressing upon
ship, in an endless iteration of ruin. Only
to the west the view was open, and there
stretched the weed in slimy convolutions.</p>

<p>Over all screamed the sea-birds.</p>

<p>Each of these countless wrecks had
once sailed the sea, new and strong, and
each had come here at last to slumber
peacefully until the deep should open and
receive it. No more would they ride out
the hurricane or take with frolic welcome
the buffetings of the waves; no more
would they visit the great ports of men
and groan beneath the heavy cargoes
placed upon them. Their days of turmoil
were over. Here, in this quiet haven, in<span class="pagenum" id="Page_78">[78]</span>
the great calm of the tropics, with only
the faintest breezes to whisper into their
ears tales of the open sea, and with the
birds to nest in their deserted rigging,
they dreamed their old age away.</p>

<p>To Dorothy the sight was solemn, but
not sad; to Howard it was amazing; to
Jackson it was maddening.</p>

<p>Less than ever did he believe that he
was hopelessly trapped far out on the
ocean; more than ever was he convinced
that Howard was deceiving him for his
own ends. He saw the ships rocking
gently on the swells, noted white patches
of sails showing here and there, heard the
cries of the gulls, and told himself afresh
that he could easily walk ashore if he only
knew how; and when a flock of parrots
lighted in the rigging and demanded
crackers, and a monkey poised on the
end of a near-by mast and gibbered, he
was convinced beyond peradventure that
Howard had lied to them and was only
watching his chance to desert them. He<span class="pagenum" id="Page_79">[79]</span>
did not even listen to that officer when he
explained that both birds and beasts must
have drifted in on wrecks and had probably
thriven.</p>

<p>“The birds will feed on the roaches on
the old rattle-trap wrecks,” he explained,
“and the monkeys will live on the birds’
eggs. Perhaps, too, both catch shell-fish
in the weeds.”</p>

<p>Breakfast was a silent meal. Dorothy
was awed and frightened by the sight of
the wrecks, and Jackson was glum. In
vain Howard strove to rouse them.
Finally he gave up and finished his breakfast
in silence. Then he pushed away his
plate.</p>

<p>“Listen to me, please,” he said coldly.
“We have arrived at our destination and
must now take steps to help ourselves.
Two things are necessary: first, to explore
the ships around us; second, not to
get lost. Make no mistake; the danger of
this last is very great. These ships will
not look the same as we leave them and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_80">[80]</span>
as we return to them; where we climb
down a ship’s side in going away, we must
climb up it in coming back, and <i>vice
versa</i>. Often this may be difficult; sometimes
it may be impossible. Yet, if we
try to vary our route, we may lose ourselves;
and once lost the chances are a
thousand to one against our ever finding
our way back to the Queen again. Not
that we shall stay by the Queen long;
probably we shall soon find some ship
better suited for a base of operations.
But we must remember that this continent
of ships is a desert except around
its edges. New wrecks arriving will
bring food and water, but a few hundred
yards inside the borders neither can remain.
It may seem to you that it would
be easy to get back to the border again,
but I assure you that it would not be.
Without a compass, we would not know
which way to go, and might easily be
plunging deeper and deeper into the
mass.”</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_81">[81]</span>He paused, waiting for comment, but
none was made. He was leader, however
grudgingly so, and it was for him to map
out their course of action. No one
dreamed of disputing it—Jackson, no less
than Dorothy, realized his helplessness
and his ignorance.</p>

<p>“I beg you, therefore, to be very careful,”
resumed Howard, seeing that the
others waited. “I am particularly insistent,
because we must explore first of all.
To-day the danger is not great, because
we are not likely to get far away,
but we might as well start right. First,
we must run up all the signal-flags we can
find; they will be conspicuous for a long
ways off. Next, we must light a fire in
the galley range; its smoke will be visible
still farther away. Third, we must never
go out of sight of our base—the Queen,
at present—under any circumstances;
when we climb to each new ship we must
look back and make sure that we can still
see the flags or the smoke. Fourth, we<span class="pagenum" id="Page_82">[82]</span>
must each carry a hatchet and mark our
way just as a woodman blazes a path
through a forest; the hatchet will come in
handy, anyhow. Later, if we do not find
what we want, we can shift our base to
some other vessel along the ‘coast,’ and
explore farther with that as a new center.
Do I make myself clear?”</p>

<p>Dorothy nodded. “Shall we all go together?”
she asked.</p>

<p>Howard shook his head. “No, I think
not,” he answered gently. “I hope you
will be willing to stay here for the present
and keep the galley fire alight; I’ll
show you how to make it smoke. Jackson
and I will do the exploring for to-day,
anyway. He can go to the north along
the coast, and I will go to the south,
and——”</p>

<p>“Not much!” The policeman was
shaking his head doggedly. “Not much,
you don’t. I don’t leave you out of my
sight. I’ve got my orders from headquarters
and——”</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_83">[83]</span>Howard stifled an exclamation. “Very
well,” he said coldly. “As you please!
Perhaps it is better anyway. Two can
do things that one could not. Come!
Let’s get ready.”</p>

<p>“But——” Dorothy looked very dubious.</p>

<p>Howard turned to her. “I know what
you would say, Miss Fairfax. You would
like to go, of course. But, believe me, it
is best not. Moving about these wrecks
will be difficult and even dangerous for
any one hampered by skirts. You would
be exhausted very soon. Besides, we may
meet unpleasant sights. Later, when we
know our ground better, we will take you
for a sight-seeing tour. You will be perfectly
safe on the Queen. You are not
afraid to be left alone, are you?”</p>

<p>“Oh! No! It will be lonely, of course,
but isn’t there some way that I can signal
to you if anything should happen?”</p>

<p>Howard considered a while; then
plunged down into the vitals of the Queen,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_84">[84]</span>
returning shortly with a double armful of
straw dug from a hogshead once filled
with crockery.</p>

<p>“There,” he said, dropping it at the
entrance of the galley. “If anything happens,
wet some of that and put it on the
fire; it will make a thick black smoke. By
alternately closing and opening the draft,
you can let it go up and cut it off altogether.
We’ll watch for it.”</p>

<p>Howard and Jackson climbed down the
Jacob’s-ladder that still swung at the
Queen’s counter, and dropped lightly to
the deck of the water-logged schooner
that lay there. Of this, nothing but a
few inches of the deck and the stumps
of the masts were above water; whatever
deck-houses there might have been had
been carried away, together with the entire
rail. Consequently there was nothing
to investigate, nothing that could help
the castaways in their efforts to escape,
and the two men crossed over her with
merely a glance, using her as a bridge to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_85">[85]</span>
reach a ship floating high in the water
just beyond.</p>

<p>The second vessel had a gangway
lowered down her side, evidently to help
her passengers to reach the boats. Her
masts were gone, but otherwise she
seemed intact.</p>

<p>“Crew and passengers taken off by
another ship,” explained Howard, “probably
in fair weather after a storm. Most
likely another storm was brewing and the
crew expected their own vessel to sink.”</p>

<p>A rapid search showed that the ship
had nothing of value to offer. Her boats
were gone; her compasses, charts, chronometers,
and sextants all were gone. Some
tools remained, but were so rusted as to
be of little value. Howard soon led the
way to her taffrail, whence he could
clutch the shrouds of a full-rigged ship
which had evidently been in a collision.</p>

<p>As he stepped on the deck of this craft,
there was a scurry of feet, and a dozen
huge rats bolted across the deck and disappeared
under the poop.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_86">[86]</span>“Confound the brutes,” he muttered.
“I hate them! Wonder what they have
been eating.”</p>

<p>The answer was not far to seek. Close
beside the davits of the quarter-boat lay
two skeletons; one with a smooth, round
hole drilled through the fleshless skull,
the other with a broken backbone. Howard
looked at them and nodded.</p>

<p>“Probably the crew made a rush for
the boats,” he suggested. “Somebody—one
of the officers, I suppose—tried to
stop them. He shot one, but the others
ran over him and broke his back. Then
came the rats. Well, it was a man’s
death. If you can find a couple of bags,
Jackson, we will commit the bones to
the sea.”</p>

<p>From the ship the two men descended
to a steamer, much down by the stern,
with a gaping hole in her port counter,
where something must have driven deep
into her vitals. From this they climbed
upon a small yacht, floating just awash.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_87">[87]</span>
(“Held up by water-tight compartments,”
explained Howard.) Thence they
passed to another vessel, and to another,
and another, each bearing mute record
to the manner of its ruin.</p>

<p>But on none did the explorers find what
they sought. The boats were invariably
gone; the tools were always rusty; the
compasses had all been snatched from
the binnacle and from the cabin; the
charts had mostly been torn from the
racks and tables, often so roughly that
the thumb-tacks that had held their corners
were left in the board, each holding
a triangular scrap of torn paper. In the
few instances where any did remain, they
were rotten with mildew, and charted regions
far distant from the Sargasso Sea.</p>

<p>It was noon when Howard gave the
word to return to the Queen. “Don’t be
downcast, Jackson,” he consoled. “What
we have found to-day is only what we
had to expect. The boats would, of
course, be taken, even if everything else<span class="pagenum" id="Page_88">[88]</span>
was left. The compasses, and charts, and
sextants, and so on, would naturally be
taken next, for those who went in the
boats would need them to shape their
course. The tools and engines would
have almost invariably been left exposed
to the weather and would be badly rusted.
It would have been by mere chance had
we found what we wanted on the very
first day. At least we have learned that
there is plenty of food and water and
clothing and coal to be had for the taking.
To-morrow we will search in
another direction. Now, let’s go home.”</p>

<p>But return was not so easy as the two
men expected. As Howard had foretold,
there was an important difference between
climbing up and climbing down, and
this difference was accentuated by the
fact that in leaving the Queen they had
chosen the easiest route. When they
could have gone from one ship to any
one of two or three others, they had
naturally moved to the one that appeared
the least difficult of access.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_89">[89]</span>Taking the route in reverse, this small
detail of choice often meant that they
must return to the one that was the
most difficult to board.</p>

<p>To this expected obstacle was added
another that was unexpected. In more
than one instance they found that their
morning route, as shown by their blazed
marks, was absolutely impracticable.
The ships had moved, slightly perhaps,
but yet enough to bar their passage, ten
feet of water being often as impassable
as ten hundred. Howard struck his brow
with his hand when he realized this.</p>

<p>“I was a fool not to foresee this!” he
exclaimed. “Of course, these ships are
not absolutely stationary. Even far inside
they must be somewhat subject to
currents and to winds, and must move
slightly, while here, on the outskirts, they
must move considerably. As a matter of
fact, the whole mass must be swinging
around and around in a vast circle, moved
by the same current that brought them<span class="pagenum" id="Page_90">[90]</span>
here in the first place. Well, we must
simply abandon our blazes, and go home
by the flags and the smoke.”</p>

<p>Jackson peered into the distance. “I
can’t see no flags,” he objected.</p>

<p>“Can’t you? I can, but they are undoubtedly
hard to make out in this mass
of frayed cordage and flapping streamers.
However, we can see the smoke clearly
enough, and must set our course by it.”</p>

<p>Ten minutes later the first accident of
the day occurred. In stepping from one
ship to another, Jackson missed his footing,
caught wildly at a ratline, which
broke in his grasp, and shot downward
with a yell into the water.</p>

<p>By the time he had risen to the surface,
Howard, who had been a little in
advance, was back, peering down at him.</p>

<p>“Can you climb out?” he demanded.
“No! I guess you can’t without help.
Hook your fingers into that port-hole—there,
just behind you. That’s right!
Can you hang on for a while? It may<span class="pagenum" id="Page_91">[91]</span>
take some time to find a rope sound
enough to bear your weight.”</p>

<p>Jackson clawed the weed from off his
face. “Yes! I can hang on all right,”
he returned, savagely. Evidently his involuntary
bath had ruffled his temper.
“I can swim, too,” he added.</p>

<p>Howard disappeared, and the policeman settled
himself to wait. He had
learned to swim in the North River, and
had no difficulty in keeping afloat, even
without the adventitious aid of the bull’s-eye
in the steamer’s side just above him.
If he had fallen in almost anywhere else
he could have gotten out himself, but, as
it chanced, this particular bit of water
was shut in by the sides of three ships,
none of which offered a foothold by which
to climb. The bull’s-eye by which he
hung was the only orifice that broke the
smoothness of the overhanging sides.</p>

<p>Time passed, however, and Howard did
not return, and a vague uneasiness began
to work in the policeman’s mind.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_92">[92]</span>
There were ropes everywhere. Surely, it
did not take so long to find one. He
called, but received no answer. Could
Howard have lost the place? Or could
some accident have befallen him? Or,
could—good God! Did the man mean to
leave him to drown?</p>

<p>The suggestion, once offered, would not
down. It was, he told himself, the very
thing to be expected. With him out of
the way, Howard would be freed from
the shadow of the gallows. He alone—except
Miss Fairfax, and what was a
girl’s life—he alone knew that Howard
had survived the wreck of the Queen.
With him dead, Howard—supposing that
he could regain dry land—could live out
his life in safety. And what was a policeman’s
life to one whose hands were already
stained with the blood of his own
wife?</p>

<p>Jackson drew a long breath as conviction
forced itself upon him. It was characteristic
of the man that he did not<span class="pagenum" id="Page_93">[93]</span>
whimper. He had been dealing with
criminals for twenty years, and conceded
them the right to fight for their own hand.
He had always declared that he would
take his dose when it came without doing
the baby act; and, by George, he would
keep his word.</p>

<p>Hope had vanished when Howard reappeared.
In his hand was a boat’s
tackle, which he proceeded to hitch to a
davit that projected over Jackson’s head.
But, instead of dropping down the other
end, he quietly seated himself on the bulwarks
and stared thoughtfully at the man
below.</p>

<p>“Well, Jackson,” he remarked, deliberately,
“our positions seem to be reversed.”</p>

<p>The policeman scowled. “Damn you,
yes,” he responded, truculently.</p>

<p>An expression of admiration floated
over Howard’s face. “By Jove, Jackson!”
he cried. “You’re all right. I
didn’t think you had the nerve to speak<span class="pagenum" id="Page_94">[94]</span>
up like that under the circumstances.
‘What dam of lances brought you forth
to jest at the dawn with death?’ That’s
from Kipling, Jackson, if you do not
recognize it.”</p>

<p>“G’wan. If you’re goin’ to murder
me, do it. You’ve had experience, all
right.”</p>

<p>“Fie! fie! Jackson! Call things by
their proper names. This wouldn’t be
any murder. But, there”—Howard’s
voice grew stern—“enough of this. I see
you realize the situation. All I have to
do is to leave you where you are, and
to-morrow I will be a free man. But I
am not going to do it; I am going to pull
you up in a minute. But I want you to
realize that I have deliberately put aside
the best chance possible to free myself
from your surveillance, and I want you
to cease dogging my footsteps and watching
me everywhere I go. I don’t ask you
to let me escape or anything like that, but
I do ask you to act on my suggestions<span class="pagenum" id="Page_95">[95]</span>
without any talk of not letting me out of
your sight. Our escape from this wreckage
may any day depend on your prompt
obedience, and I want you to obey. In return,
I reiterate my assertion—which you
did not believe—that I am even more
anxious than you are to get back to dry
land; and in addition I promise you, on
the word of an officer and a gentleman,
that if I do get back, you and Miss Fairfax
shall go, too. I will not desert you,
even though I know you will arrest me the
moment you have force enough at hand
to do it. Now, put your foot in the hook
on this block, and I’ll haul you up.”</p>

<p>Jackson caught the block that Howard
dropped, and put his foot in it mechanically.
He was a slow thinker, and Howard’s
words bewildered him for the
moment; later he would realize their import.
Anyhow, now was the time to act;
the time to think would come later. So
he grasped the rope and waited while his
former prisoner hoisted him up to the
deck.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_96">[96]</span>Once there he turned to Howard and
opened his mouth. But that individual
checked him with a smile.</p>

<p>“After a while! After a while!” he
counselled. “Let’s get back to the Queen
now. Where’s that smoke?”</p>

<p>He turned and gazed around the horizon;
then he started.</p>

<p>“Something’s wrong on the Queen,”
he cried. “Miss Fairfax is signalling for
us!”</p>
<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" />

<div class="chapter">
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_97">[97]</span>

<h2 class="nobreak">VIII</h2>
</div>

<p><span class="smcap">When</span> the two men left Dorothy alone
in the Queen, she was not uneasy, although
she did not welcome being alone
in that desolate place. She had so grown
to depend on Howard’s companionship,
and to take comfort even in Jackson’s
bear-like presence about the ship, that she
felt a queer sinking at heart when they
left her. Still, she realized that it was
necessary that some one who understood
thoroughly what was wanted should explore,
and she knew that Howard was the
only one possessed of that information.
If Jackson felt it his duty to go along,
she would not for worlds ask him to stay
with her, although she was entirely convinced
that Howard would not desert
them. She had accepted without reservation
Howard’s story of the crime for<span class="pagenum" id="Page_98">[98]</span>
which he had been tried, and she put implicit
trust in him.</p>

<p>The fire in the galley was burning well
when the two men left, and Dorothy decided
to postpone her dishwashing and
tidying up, and to remain on deck and
watch their progress. Several times before
the tangled masts and hulls, torn
canvas, and frayed cordage hid them from
her view, Howard turned to wave his
hand to her and shake his head in token
that the search had as yet brought them
nothing. When they disappeared at last
behind a big, high-floating steamer, she
went below to attend to her duties, which
included the preparation of what she told
herself should be an extra fine dinner, in
celebration of the completion of the first
stage of their journey.</p>

<p>Time passed rapidly in accompaniment
to the cheerful clink of the pans and the
rattle of the dishes with which she set
the table. At last she paused and looked
at her watch.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_99">[99]</span>“Twelve o’clock,” she murmured. “He
ought to be coming back now.” It was
noticeable that she said “he,” not
“they.” “I’ll go on deck and look.”</p>

<p>She started up the companionway,
then paused, as a faint shout was borne
to her ears. “There they are now,” she
thought, happily. “I wonder what they
have found.” She hurried up the stairway.</p>

<p>The call was repeated as she went,
and was unmistakable now. “Ahoy, the
ship!” it came again and again.</p>

<p>Dorothy stopped short. “That’s not
Mr. Howard’s voice—nor Mr. Jackson’s,”
she gasped. “Who——”</p>

<p>Cautiously she peered from the door
and looked around anxiously. Two unknown
sailors were standing on the
deck of the fire-blackened steamer that
lay across the bows of the Queen. As
she stared, one of them hailed again.
“Ahoy, the steamer!” he shouted.</p>

<p>Dorothy’s first feeling was one of delight.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_100">[100]</span>
There were people then in this
place of desolation, and people, to Dorothy,
meant civilization and all that it
connotes—including facilities of communication
with the world. She was
about to answer the hail when something
made her hesitate. It might be all right,
but she was alone. She turned, and,
slipping back to the galley fire, rapidly
thrust into it an armful of wet straw.
An exclamation outside, faintly heard,
showed that the smoke had changed accordingly.
Twice she repeated the signal
with an interval between; then warned
by the thump of feet on the deck overhead,
she thrust in a last armful and
hurried toward the companionway.</p>

<p>As she reached its top, the sailors appeared
at the door. Dorothy bowed.</p>

<p>“Good morning, gentlemen!” she cried.
The men started back with one accord;
their hands flew to their caps and pulled
them from their heads. One seemed too
amazed for speech, but the other was
somewhat bolder.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_101">[101]</span>“Beggin’ your pardon, ma’am,” he
stammered. “I—we—Bill an’ me hailed,
but—I hopes you’re well, ma’am.”</p>

<p>Dorothy smiled. “Yes! I’m well,”
she returned, “and very glad to see you.
Tell me, do you live here?”</p>

<p>“On this ship, ma’am? No, ma’am.”</p>

<p>“Oh, no, I know you don’t live on this
ship, for we have just drifted in on it.
I mean here.”</p>

<p>She waved her hand comprehensively.</p>

<p>Bill had recovered somewhat by now.
“No, ma’am,” he declared positively.
“Joe and me live in little old New York.
But we’ve been here ten years!”</p>

<p>“Ten years!” Dorothy’s cheeks paled.
“Ten years! Oh! can’t you get away?
Don’t tell me you can’t get away!”</p>

<p>“No, ma’am, we can’t get away. We’d
go like a shot if we could. You see,
ma’am, nothing but wrecks ever come in
here, and there ain’t no way of getting
out.”</p>

<p>“Can’t you build a boat?”</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_102">[102]</span>“We might, ma’am, but how could we
get it through the weed. Nobody ever
has. Everybody who’s ever come in here
is here yet.”</p>

<p>“Everybody! How many are there of
you?”</p>

<p>“Twenty-two—not countin’ the women
and the child.”</p>

<p>“Women! Are there women here?
I’m so glad! Oh! poor creatures! Have
they—But, there! Come up here and
sit down. We drifted in here only yesterday—three
of us. The men have gone
to explore, but they will be back soon.
While we are waiting for them, you must
tell me all about everything.”</p>

<p>Dorothy led the way aft, reaching the
taffrail just in time to see Howard and
Jackson speeding toward her over the
wrecks. She waved her hand at them;
assured of their safety she felt more
secure.</p>

<p>“There comes the rest of our party,”
she explained.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_103">[103]</span>The story told by Bill and Joe over the
dinner-table was long and involved with
many interruptions and many repetitions.
According to them, there had always
been people living on the assembled
wreckage. The one of their number who
had been there longest—for twenty-five
years—knew personally others before
him who had been there for as long again,
and declared that these in turn knew of
still others who had been there before
them. It seemed very probable that the
colony—if such a name could be applied
to it—had existed for centuries.</p>

<p>The people, like the ships, had always
come and never gone; once on the wrecks,
they had stayed there till they died.
Several of those now there had been born
on the wrecks, and had lived there all
their lives. Fresh wrecks brought them
food, water, clothing, and many luxuries,
and if these failed, there were abundant
rain, birds’ eggs, and fish to fall back
upon. Mostly sailors, trained to handiness,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_104">[104]</span>
the castaways had developed many
lines of industry, and, on the whole,
lived very contentedly.</p>

<p>“Some of us is willing to live here always,”
said Joe, “an’ some ain’t—especially
at first. But, Lord love ye, they
comes round to it after a while, seein’
they’ve got to.”</p>

<p>The castaways, it seemed, had developed
a sort of government, under a
former ship captain named Peter Forbes,
whose ascendency rested partly on the
fact that his strength enabled him to
overcome everyone who contested the
leadership with him, and partly on his
native ability. Under his rule, stores
were collected from the newly arrived
ships and carried, sometimes from miles
away, to what may be called the village—the
central point where the castaways
lived. A patrol—Joe and Bill, at present—was
maintained, which made regular
trips for fifty miles in each direction,
investigating such new wrecks as might<span class="pagenum" id="Page_105">[105]</span>
come in. The patrol only went as far as
fifty miles in order to pick up any new
arrivals, it being impracticable to transport
stores more than a few miles over
the ragged surface of the wreckage, even
by swinging them on an aerial trolley
from mast to mast.</p>

<p>Forbes divided up the work, and saw
that each individual did his share. He
also acted as a fount of justice, settling
disputes in a rough-and-ready fashion,
and, on occasion, dealing out punishments,
more or less severe, for infractions
of the rules he had laid down. Altogether,
he seemed such an exceptional
sort of man that Howard could not understand
why he had made no effort to
escape to shore.</p>

<p>Bill tried to make things clear. “You
see, sir,” he explained, “it’s like this:
This here weed stretches out for two hundred
miles and more. We’d first have
to build a boat, and then cut our way
through it inch by inch. We couldn’t get<span class="pagenum" id="Page_106">[106]</span>
grub or water enough in the boat to last
us till we got out. An’ if we did get out,
where’d we be? At sea without a compass
or nothin’! We all wanted to try at first,
but Forbes, he explains things to us so
plain that we sees how impossible it is.
Two or three times coves have tried to
get out, but they allus got stuck in the
weed, an’ mighty glad they was to get
back to where there was plenty to eat
and drink.”</p>

<p>Howard nodded. “I see the difficulty,”
he conceded. “But have you no instruments?
Of course there are not likely to
be many, but I should think you would
have found a few in all these years.”</p>

<p>Joe hesitated. “The cap’n allers looks
out for them things,” he declared at last.
“Nobody knows how to use ’em but
him.”</p>

<p>“Ah! I see.”</p>

<p>To himself Howard added that it was
tolerably evident that Forbes was not
over-anxious to escape; probably he<span class="pagenum" id="Page_107">[107]</span>
agreed with Cæsar that he “would rather
be first in a little Iberian village than
second in Rome”; and, contented with his
little realm and sway, threw his influence
against any attempt of the others to deplete
it. Howard felt that he and Forbes
might come to a clash later on.</p>

<p>Dorothy changed the subject by asking
about the women. There were two, it appeared,
one old and one young. The older
one, of whom the sailors spoke affectionately
as Mother Joyce, was nearly sixty
years old; she and her husband had been
on the wrecks for fifteen years. The
younger had been there only two years;
she had been a widow, but had married
one Gallegher, Forbes’s right-hand man,
some time before. The only child in the
community was hers.</p>

<p>“So you marry here, just as you do
elsewhere?” interjected Dorothy, lightly,
at this point. “Who performs the ceremonies?”</p>

<p>Joe hesitated. “Cap’n Forbes used to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_108">[108]</span>
up to last year,” he answered at last.
“Then Mr. Willoughby floated in on a
wreck. He’s a regular gospel sharp, an’
he’s done it since.”</p>

<p>“Gallegher ain’t pretty,” continued
Joe, thoughtfully. “An’ I guess Mrs.
Strother that was wasn’t over-anxious to
marry him. But women is awful skearce
here, and they generally gits married
right off.” He paused and looked from
Dorothy to Howard. “Your wife, sir?”
he questioned.</p>

<p>Dorothy flushed hotly, but Howard did
not seem to notice it.</p>

<p>“No,” he said. “This is Miss Fairfax.
I am Lieutenant Howard, of the navy.
This is Mr. Jackson, of the New York
police force.”</p>

<p>The men ducked their heads awkwardly.
“We did have another lady here,”
remarked Bill, abstractedly. “She was
the cap’n’s wife, but she died a month or
two ago. The cap’n is mighty anxious to
marry again—mighty anxious.”</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_109">[109]</span>“Ah! indeed.” Howard rose from the
table. “Come,” he continued, “let’s go
on deck. I want you to point out something
to me!”</p>

<p>As Dorothy led the way, followed by
Bill and Joe, Howard turned to Jackson,
who had been listening to the sailors in
dazed silence.</p>

<p>“If you want to get away from here,
Jackson,” he counselled hurriedly, “for
God’s sake keep quiet about me. If you
don’t, Forbes is likely to keep us here
for the rest of our lives. The chances are
he will try to do it anyway.”</p>
<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" />

<div class="chapter">
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_110">[110]</span>

<h2 class="nobreak">IX</h2>
</div>

<p><span class="smcap">Shortly</span> after dinner the entire party
set out for the village, which was, it
seemed, only half a mile away, and would
have been reached by Jackson and Howard
had they chanced to go in the right
direction.</p>

<p>Bill and Joe knew all the easiest routes
across the wreckage, and led the newcomers
by one, which, though not quite
direct, yet involved the minimum of effort
on Dorothy’s part. Nevertheless, progress
was necessarily slow, and it took
nearly an hour to go the so-called half
mile.</p>

<p>When the village was sighted, it was
evident that considerable pains had been
taken to make it comfortable. A score of
modern vessels, mostly steamers, of
about the same phase of flotation had been
pulled into place and so bound together<span class="pagenum" id="Page_111">[111]</span>
as to constitute a solid mass. Over what
had once been the interstices between
them, planking had been laid, making it
possible to go anywhere about the place
without difficulty. Awnings, spread from
mast to mast, gave promise of cool shade.</p>

<p>“The cap’n fixed this up about a year
after he came,” explained Bill to Howard.
“Before then we just pigged
around any which-a-ways. But he says
that what with new ships drifting in continual,
we’re gettin’ too far from the
coast and we’ll have to move soon. Yonder
he is, sir.”</p>

<p>As Bill spoke, a tall, thickset man came
hurriedly on deck, ran to the edge of the
platform, cast a quick glance at the newcomers
as they scrambled over the wreckage
toward him, and then turned and beat
a rapid tattoo on a ship’s bell that hung
close at hand.</p>

<p>“That’s the signal that something’s
doing,” explained Joe.</p>

<p>The village awoke to life. Half a dozen<span class="pagenum" id="Page_112">[112]</span>
hatchways gave out figures in every style
of costume, and when the newcomers
reached the deck, practically the entire
population was waiting to welcome them.</p>

<p>Forbes was first, the rest holding back
respectfully to give him precedence.</p>

<p>“Welcome! Welcome!” he called, holding
out both hands. “Seldom indeed has
any one been so welcome. And a special
welcome to you, fair lady,” he added, as
he bent low over Dorothy’s slender
fingers. Then he turned to the villagers
behind him. “Come, all of you,” he commanded.
“Come and make our new
friends feel at home.”</p>

<p>They came, all of them, crowding round
the newcomers with a babble of greetings
and questionings as to the world from
which they had been so long cut off. So
rapid was the fire of interrogation, and
so multifarious the questions, that they
fairly swept Jackson off his feet, and left
the other two in little better case.</p>

<p>When the hubbub was at its height,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_113">[113]</span>
there came, from behind the rest, a
hearty, bustling sort of a voice. “Arrah!
arrah! boys,” it pleaded. “Don’t you
see you’re crowding the young lady?
Make room for old Mother Joyce. How
are you, me darlint? It’s terrible glad
I am to see you; gladder than you are to
see any of us, I’ll venture. There! deary!
don’t cry. It’s all right.”</p>

<p>The old woman’s voice dropped to a
soothing note. For Dorothy, all the experiences
of the past two weeks coming
on her afresh at sight of a woman’s face,
had broken down completely, and was
sobbing on Mother Joyce’s ample bosom.</p>

<p>“Oh!” she wailed, “I didn’t know how
awful it has been until I saw you. All
these dead ships——” Her voice died
away.</p>

<p>“I know! I know! It was fifteen years
agone that I—but I remimber. There,
mavourneen, be aisy. Come along down
to Mother Joyce’s cabin and have your
cry out.”</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_114">[114]</span>She took Dorothy down a hatchway
some distance from the babbling throng,
into a cool and airy cabin.</p>

<p>“Sit down wid yees,” she commanded.
“Sit down with Mother Joyce and wape
it all out. I understand, dear heart; I
understand.”</p>

<p>Dorothy’s curiosity soon mastered her
tears, and before long the two women
were exchanging confidences like old
friends. Belonging to two different
social worlds, elsewhere they would never
have known each other. But adventure
makes strange companions.</p>

<p>After a while Joe tapped at the door.</p>

<p>“Cap’n Forbes says, Mother Joyce,”
he explained, “as how he hopes you an’
the young lady will take supper with
him.”</p>

<p>Mother Joyce looked at Dorothy, who
responded promptly.</p>

<p>“I’ll be glad to do so, of course,” she
answered.</p>

<p>“All right, Joe. We’ll come.” Then,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_115">[115]</span>
as the sailor’s footsteps died away, the
old lady turned to Dorothy. “My dear,”
she essayed diffidently. “It’s cautioning
you a bit I must be. It’s a bad state of
things for a pretty young woman like
yourself we’re after having here, so it is.
Will you be goin’ to marry that young
man who saved your life and who’s been
so kind to you ever since the wreck?”</p>

<p>Dorothy sat up very straight, and her
cheeks flamed.</p>

<p>“Indeed, I am not,” she exclaimed.</p>

<p>Mother Joyce looked more troubled than
ever. “It’s not for idle curiosity I’m
asking,” she continued, “but because——
Are you quite certain you don’t want to
marry him? It’s good and true he looks
and—maybe it’s not another chance you’ll
be getting.”</p>

<p>Dorothy’s cheeks still burned, but uneasiness
tugged at her heart-strings.
Clearly there was something behind the
old woman’s words—something of grave
import, too. Joe and Bill had also hinted
something she did not quite understand.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_116">[116]</span>“Marriage between me and Mr. Howard
is entirely out of the question,” she
replied quietly. “There are reasons that
I can’t go into now. But I wish you would
tell me exactly what the trouble is, dear
Mother Joyce; for I am sure there is
something dreadfully wrong.”</p>

<p>Mother Joyce studied the girl for a
moment.</p>

<p>“Faith and I will,” she acquiesced.
“Maybe it’s all right it is—if you’re certain
you don’t want to marry that young
man of yours. The trouble is the plentiful
lack of females we have here in the
sea. You haven’t seen Prudence Gallegher
yet. She’s the one other woman
here. She drifted in alone and half crazy
on the ship Swan two years ago. Her
husband and everybody else had been
drowned. In the two years she’s been
here she’s been married four times.”</p>

<p>“Four times! How horrible! How
could she——”</p>

<p>“It’s no choice she had. There were<span class="pagenum" id="Page_117">[117]</span>
twenty odd men here and only two women
besides her. It’s not much about men in
the rough you’ll be knowing, I think.
Prudence had to make her choice and
make it quick. She <i>had</i> to, or—well, she
did the best she could, and she married
two days after she got here. Six months
later the poor creature was a widow—her
husband killed by a block fallin’ from
aloft and knocking his brains out. The
morning after she married again. She
had to, you’ll understand. Six or eight
months afterward her second husband
disappeared, and Cap’n Forbes declared
it’s dead he must be, and that she must
many once more. So marry she did.
Three months ago Mr. Gallegher’s wife
died—Mr. Gallegher is the mate—and
within a week Prudence was a widow
once more. It was a big snake that Captain
Forbes keeps as a pet that did the
worruk that time; it got loose and
crushed poor Strother to death. The very
next day Prudence was forced to marry<span class="pagenum" id="Page_118">[118]</span>
Gallegher—and her with a two-months’-old
baby. Captain Forbes, you’ll understand,
had a wife of his own all this time,
but she died a week ago, and it’s myself
that’s looking for somethin’ to happen to
Gallegher any day.”</p>

<p>Dorothy gasped. “You mean——”
she cried.</p>

<p>“I mane that Cap’n Forbes wants a
wife mighty bad, and that Gallegher
wants even worse to find one for him. I
mane that you’d better be considerin’
whether you’d rather marry your young
man—or Cap’n Forbes.”</p>

<p>Dorothy listened with strained attention.
This thing was too horrible to be
true. That she, Dorothy Fairfax, ran the
slightest danger of being forced to marry
anybody was simply unthinkable. Mother
Joyce was exaggerating. This Prudence
Gallegher must be a weak sort of a
woman—not one by whom to measure
herself.</p>

<p>She turned to Mrs. Joyce. “Have—have<span class="pagenum" id="Page_119">[119]</span>
<i>you</i> been married more than once?”
she asked.</p>

<p>A grim look banished the kindly lines
from Mother Joyce’s face. “Only once,
mavourneen,” she answered. “I gave
them all to understand long ago that if
they did away with Tim, it’s follow him I
would—after I had killed all of them I
could. And they belaved me. Besides,
it’s an old woman I am—not a pretty
young colleen like you. You’d better be
after takin’ my advice; marry your young
man quick if you want him and stay on
your own ship till he can get you away
from here.”</p>

<p>“But they all say we can’t get away.”</p>

<p>“Arrah! Go way wid you! Tell me
twinty men can’t get away from anywhere
if it’s any sinse they’ve got. Cap’n
Forbes could have got us ashore long ago
if he’d been wantin’ to. It’s talk he does
about gittin’ stuck in the weed! What’s
a lot of weed? You can cut through it,
can’t you? Faith, the rale trouble is<span class="pagenum" id="Page_120">[120]</span>
Cap’n Forbes ain’t wantin’ to go, an’
he’s the only wan here with any seafarin’
since and any git up and git about him—unless
your young man is after havin’
some.”</p>

<p>“Mr. Howard said we could get away
if we could get a boat and compass
and——”</p>

<p>“Oh! Sure, you’ll have to be havin’ a
boat and some instruments to guide her,
an’ it’s none so aisy to foind boats here.
It’s me own opinion that the cap’n has
destroyed all he found, so it is. As for
compasses and such like, sure the cap’n
has thim right enough locked away in his
storehouse, even though he kapes them
mighty secret. He don’t want to go himself
and, be the same token, he don’t want
any wan else to go. He moightn’t be such
a big man if he was ashore, so he
moightn’t! But you and your friends can
get away—if Cap’n Forbes don’t prevent.”</p>

<p>Freed from the restraint of Dorothy’s<span class="pagenum" id="Page_121">[121]</span>
presence, the conversation on deck had
grown even more animated than before.
Howard and Jackson could scarcely answer
one question before half a dozen
more were plumped at them. Evidently,
thirst for news of the world had not died
out in the members of the colony.</p>

<p>Howard noticed, however, that Forbes
himself soon drew aside from the rest and
engaged in earnest talk with Joe and Bill,
evidently questioning them in regard to
the Queen and her passengers, and that
later he devoted himself particularly to
drawing out Jackson. Finally he came
toward Howard.</p>

<p>“I guess your throat’s pretty dry, Mr.
Howard,” he said, “and if you’ll come
down to my cabin, I’ll see if I can’t find
something to irrigate it with.”</p>

<p>Howard willingly accepted the invitation.
From all he had heard it was obvious
to him that this puppet king had
resolutely set his face against any member
of his colony leaving the wreck-pack,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_122">[122]</span>
and it was highly necessary to discover
whether he would go so far as to oppose
any attempts of the newcomers in that
direction. If a contest was to come, the
sooner Howard knew it, the better.</p>

<p>Forbes led the way to his cabin and
pushed forward a chair.</p>

<p>“Choose your own poison, Mr. Howard,”
he offered hospitably, indicating a
sideboard loaded with bottles. “We have
pretty nearly everything there is. A
single steamer last month brought us
more than we could drink in a lifetime.
What I have here doesn’t represent half
her selection. There is beer in the ice-box
over in that corner, if you prefer it.”</p>

<p>Upon Howard’s accepting the beer, his
host set half a dozen bottles on the table,
adding one of whiskey for himself.</p>

<p>“Bourbon is good enough for me,” he
observed. “I sample the fancy drinks
once in a while, but always come back to
the straight stuff. I’m surprised that you
don’t also. You are a naval officer, aren’t<span class="pagenum" id="Page_123">[123]</span>
you? I hope you are better up in other
details of your profession.”</p>

<p>Howard laughed. “Hard drinking
isn’t exactly compulsory in the service,”
he observed, lightly.</p>

<p>“Oh, no offense! I was only joking, of
course. I suppose you have specialists in
that line as well as in others. From what
I read in the papers that drift in to us
here, I take it that everything is being
specialized nowadays. What’s your particular
line—navigating, engineering,
submarining?”</p>

<p>Howard laughed again. “This is an
age of specialization, all right, captain,”
he returned, “but it hasn’t struck the
navy yet. Quite the contrary! Only a
year or two ago, Congress wiped out all
special lines and insisted that all officers
should know everything. Perhaps it was
right, but——”</p>

<p>“But you don’t think so. Well, it’s a
good thing to know all about your own
job if you can. I suppose, however, you<span class="pagenum" id="Page_124">[124]</span>
can’t help specializing more or less. For
instance, you must have special men who
manage your submarines.”</p>

<p>“Not exactly. Still, only a few men
have had any experience in that line yet.
The boats are too new and too few to give
everybody a chance yet. Personally, I
have been lucky enough to have had a
good deal of experience with them, but
comparatively few others have as yet.”</p>

<p>Forbes threw himself back in his chair
with a look of intense satisfaction on his
face. “That’s good,” he said heartily.
“Humph! By the way, Howard, this
party of yours is a curiously mixed one.”</p>

<p>“You think so?”</p>

<p>“Oh, it’s evident on the face of it!— Have
a cigarette?— A navy officer, a
New York policeman, and a girl; that’s
odd enough, isn’t it? Not that sailors
and girls are antipathetic—quite the contrary—but
where does the policeman
come in? I don’t quite place him in the
picture.”</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_125">[125]</span>Howard lighted his cigarette with a
steady hand. “I believe he had been to
Porto Rico to bring a convict back to
New York,” he returned.</p>

<p>“A convict. Humph! Too bad he
didn’t bring him here. ‘There’s never a
law of God or man runs in the Sargasso
Sea.’ I’m up in the modern poets, you’ll
observe, Howard. We have no extradition
here. Well, as I was saying, Neptune
makes some queer bed-fellows, especially
here. Who is the lady, by the
way?”</p>

<p>“Miss Dorothy Fairfax, daughter of
Colonel John Fairfax, a millionaire railroad
man who has been building lines in
Porto Rico of late. His daughter was on
her way home after visiting him on the
island.”</p>

<p>Forbes’s eyes glittered. “Colonel John
Fairfax’s daughter, eh! I was reading
an article in the paper about him the other
day that said he owned about half the
railroads in the United States. His<span class="pagenum" id="Page_126">[126]</span>
daughter will be quite a catch for a poor
man. Eh, Howard!”</p>

<p>Howard made a slight movement. “I
would rather not discuss Miss Fairfax,
captain,” he returned, quietly. “When
and how can we get away from here?”</p>

<p>Forbes held his glass to the light and
squinted at it. “Well, Howard,” he remarked
reflectively. “I’ve been kind of
expecting you to ask me that. In fact,
I brought you down here to give you a
chance to ask me. The truth is, you can’t
get away at all unless you come to terms
with me.”</p>

<p>“What are your terms?”</p>

<p>“Well—I’ll come to that after a while.
Look here, Howard, I’ve been here ten
years and I never was so comfortable in
my life before. I’ve lived easy and slept
soft, and never had a minute’s worry
about grocery bills or taxes, or any of the
other plagues of civilization. And my
men have been in the same case. They’ve
had just work enough to keep them<span class="pagenum" id="Page_127">[127]</span>
healthy, and just drink enough to keep
them happy. If they were out of this,
they’d either be working like dogs or
drunk—also like dogs. Why in thunder
should either they or I want to go back
to that old damnable life?”</p>

<p>“No reason at all, captain, if you’re
content here.”</p>

<p>“That’s the devil of it. I’m not content.
I’m just fool enough to ache to get
back. But I don’t want to go back empty-handed.
I don’t want to go back poor.
I want to go back rich, with influential
connections, social relations, and all the
rest of it.”</p>

<p>Howard smiled. “You’re not the only
one who wants all that, captain,” he observed.
“There are others.”</p>

<p>“So I suppose. But the difference between
them and me is that since you got
here I’ve got all this right in my fist.
This morning it was far away; now it is
close at hand. As I said, I’ve been here
for ten years. In that time I have been<span class="pagenum" id="Page_128">[128]</span>
over about five thousand wrecks, old and
new. Nearly every one of them has had
money on her. Some have had very large
sums. Large or small, I have collected
them all. It makes a great fortune for
one; it is enough for two; but it isn’t a
hill of beans among a score.”</p>

<p>“I am beginning to see.”</p>

<p>“I couldn’t take this money away secretly
by boat—it’s too bulky. I couldn’t
take it openly without sharing it with a
dozen others—and it would need about a
dozen to cut a way through this damnable
weed. I’ve been ready to go for six
months, but I didn’t see my way. Now
I do.”</p>

<p>“Well.”</p>

<p>“Recently I found a safe, quick, and
easy way for a man with the right technical
knowledge to get away from here
with two or three people—and my money.
But I didn’t have the technical knowledge.
Of all the ships that have floated in with
libraries on them, not one has had a book<span class="pagenum" id="Page_129">[129]</span>
that told me what to do. Now you have
come especially trained in the very line I
want. Can you guess what my terms are
now?”</p>

<p>“Humph! Perhaps. What is your
way?”</p>

<p>“Don’t worry about that now. It’s all
right, and that’s enough. I’m telling you
a good deal, because I want your help,
but I’m not giving myself away altogether.
But about those terms. If you’ll
help me get ashore with my money, I’ll
give you a hundred thousand dollars.”</p>

<p>Howard lay back in his chair and stared
at his host thoughtfully. The conversation
had proceeded far otherwise from
what he had expected. The man whose
opposition to his leaving he had feared,
was actually asking his aid. Yet this assistance
was asked not slavishly, but as
if the asker could compel it if he liked,
but preferred to request. Howard felt
that he must choose his words warily.</p>

<p>“Such a question is hardly worth asking,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_130">[130]</span>
captain,” he returned. “Of course,
I shall be glad to accept. I take it for
granted that my friends are included in
your invitation!”</p>

<p>“Your friends!” Forbes burst into a
roar of laughter. “Your friends! That’s
good! That’s very good! One of your
friends—Mr. Jackson—I intend to leave
behind as a special favor to you.”</p>

<p>For an instant Howard saw red. Then
the fit passed, and he answered quietly,
“You astonish me, captain.”</p>

<p>“Oh, no, I don’t! Look here, I’m on
to you, Howard. You are the convict that
Jackson went to Porto Rico for. You are
now supposed to be dead. Leave Jackson
here, and you can change your name
and live anywhere in the world you like
in perfect safety.”</p>

<p>“And Miss Fairfax?” Howard almost
choked as he uttered the words, but the
necessity of dissembling was strong upon
him.</p>

<p>“Miss Fairfax will go with us—as my
wife!”</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_131">[131]</span>“What!”</p>

<p>“Sit down, Howard, and keep your
shirt on. What’s the use of getting
worked up. I know I’m not exactly in
Miss Fairfax’s line, but she won’t be the
only woman who has married out of her
class. I’ll make good with her father,
all right.”</p>

<p>“You think you can get Miss Fairfax
to marry you?”</p>

<p>In spite of himself the scorn that Howard
tried to hide showed in his voice.
Forbes did not notice it.</p>

<p>“She can’t help herself,” he declared.
“I’ve got her dead to rights. Besides,
I’ve got the law—our law—on my side.
You don’t suppose ordinary rules govern
here, do you? Not much! The sexes are
too frightfully disproportionate. Counting
your party, there are just twenty-four
men and only three women here. The
coming of a new woman has always been
the signal for trouble. Bad blood,
quarrels, and murders have followed inevitably.
So we made a law some years<span class="pagenum" id="Page_132">[132]</span>
ago that every woman must marry within
twenty-four hours after her arrival.
Under that law I intend to marry Miss
Fairfax. What have you to say about
it?”</p>

<p>With the last word Captain Forbes
put his elbows on the table and leaned
forward, staring into Howard’s face.
Huge, shaggy, and evidently immensely
powerful, he towered menacingly above
the smaller naval officer.</p>

<p>Howard wanted to say a good deal, but
forbore. Clearly Forbes took him for
an ordinary scoundrel who had his price
like other scoundrels. If he was to help
Dorothy, the obvious thing was to appear
to fall in with the plan until opportunity
offered to defeat it, or until action could
no longer be deferred. That is, he must
gain time, and the only way to gain time
was to dissimulate.</p>

<p>“I don’t believe I have anything to say
about it just now, captain,” he returned,
mildly, “except that I think you could<span class="pagenum" id="Page_133">[133]</span>
make a better bargain with Colonel Fairfax
if you merely returned his daughter
to him safely. She’ll hate you forever,
you know.”</p>

<p>Forbes’s brows relaxed. “Not much
she won’t,” he returned. “She’ll come to
time, all right, and mighty soon, too. I
know how to handle the sex. She’ll be
too proud to confess the truth, and she’ll
praise me up to the skies. You’ll see!
Besides, I don’t want the old man’s
money; I’ll have enough of my own. I
want his social help. Well! is it a bargain?”</p>

<p>Howard hesitated. “I must think
about it for a while, captain,” he returned.</p>

<p>“What do you want to think about?
Oh! I guess I see! You’ve got an idea
of marrying the girl yourself, I reckon.
Humph! Son-in-law saves girl, and rich
daddy saves son-in-law. I don’t blame
you, but I guess I’ll just have to queer
that game once for all. Gallegher!”</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_134">[134]</span>The last word came like a pistol-shot.
Howard leaped to his feet, only to find
three armed men standing behind him.</p>

<p>Forbes threw himself back in his chair
and laughed.</p>

<p>“Stung!” he remarked lightly. “You
might as well go quietly, Howard.
There’s no use of committing suicide, you
know. We won’t hurt you—you’re too
valuable. And we’ll turn you loose—after
the ceremony.”</p>
<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" />

<div class="chapter">
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_135">[135]</span>

<h2 class="nobreak">X</h2>
</div>

<p><span class="smcap">For</span> one moment, as the men closed in
on him, Howard struggled with a furious
desire to wrest a cutlass from one of
them, and with it exact terms from the
others. The odds, though great, were not
necessarily overwhelming, and victory
would mean much. Had he stood on equal
terms before the law, he would have
risked everything in an immediate fight.</p>

<p>But he did not stand even. Against him
as a convict fighting for freedom, Forbes
could throw the entire population of his
colony; even Jackson might join in the
unequal odds. The result of a struggle
on that basis must be inevitable; Dorothy
would lose her only defender. Later,
when the time came, if it did come, to
shift the fight to the defense of womanhood,
he would have a better cause and
might win allies. So he surrendered.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_136">[136]</span>“Take him to the Chester,” ordered
Forbes, “and lock him up. Give him
anything he wants to make him comfortable,
and see after his meals. If he makes
any trouble, put him in irons. Off with
you.”</p>

<p>Sick at heart, Howard marched away
between his captors. The way led to the
edge of the wide platform that constituted
the village, down a gang-plank,
and away for some distance across the
wrecks. Finally it led through a rent in
the side of a big iron steamer, and up to
what had evidently once been the captain’s
cabin. Into this he was thrust.</p>

<p>Gallegher paused, with his hand on the
lock. “You heard what the cap’n said,”
he growled. “You behave yourself and
nobody’ll hurt you. And, remember,
there ain’t a mite of use tryin’ to escape,
because there ain’t nowhere to escape to.”</p>

<p>The door slammed and Howard was
left to his own reflections.</p>

<p>His first act was, of course, to inspect<span class="pagenum" id="Page_137">[137]</span>
his prison. It was not uncomfortable.
Large, airy, and well furnished, it had
evidently been selected because all its
sides were of iron, three of them being
formed by the sides of the vessel, and the
fourth by one of her bulkheads. Numerous
port-holes admitted air and light, but
were too small for a man’s body to pass
through them. A skylight overhead had
been closed with heavy timbers. Altogether
it was a strong place.</p>

<p>Before he had had much more than
time enough to familiarize himself with
his surroundings, the key grated in the
lock, and one of his captors entered with
a tray, which he placed on a table built
around the mizzenmast of the ship.</p>

<p>“Here’s your dinner, sor,” he announced.</p>

<p>Howard came over and sat down. As
he did so, his eyes fell on some curious-looking
mechanism which the man had
pushed aside in making room for the
tray. A question sprang to his lips, but<span class="pagenum" id="Page_138">[138]</span>
he choked it back as the other bent suddenly
forward.</p>

<p>“I heard of what you said to Bill and
Joe, sor,” he breathed. “Is it true that
you could get away from here if you had
the chance, sor?”</p>

<p>“True? Of course it’s true. Give me
a boat, two or three men, and a compass,
and I’d start away at an hour’s notice.
I wonder that you men don’t see that.”</p>

<p>“And will you take me and Kathleen
with you when you go, sor? Kathleen’s
my wife—Joyce they call her, sor,
though its nather chick nor child we’re
after having, sor.”</p>

<p>“I’ll take anybody. But I’ve got to
be free in order to prepare——”</p>

<p>“Whist! That’ll be all right, sor.
Kape a stiff upper lip and everything
will come right. The young lady and
you have friends here, sor. I don’t dare
to stop now, but it’s back again I’ll be
later on.”</p>

<p>Howard made no effort to detain the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_139">[139]</span>
man. He was in a fever of impatience
to examine the instruments on the table,
and the moment he heard the key turn
in the lock, he pushed aside his dinner
and began to finger them.</p>

<p>“It isn’t possible,” he muttered. “It
isn’t possible! Forbes would know better.
But, by George, he doesn’t. It’s true!
It’s true! <i>He’s locked me up with a wireless
outfit.</i> If it’s only in working order.”
He pressed the key and a rumble and a
crash gave answer. “It is! It is!” he
exulted. “By Heaven! It is!”</p>

<p>“Now to raise somebody before Forbes
finds me out,” he continued. “If the
wireless only sent as silently as it received,
it would be all right. But—well!
maybe no one will notice. It’s pretty
noisy here! Anyhow, there’s nothing to
do but try.”</p>

<p>He placed his finger on the key. “Let’s
see!” he soliloquized. “The naval station
at Guantanamo is nearest, but I don’t
know its call. I’ll have to try C Q D—the
emergency signal.”</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_140">[140]</span>Again and again he pressed the key,
and again and again the apparatus
roared, sending the cry for help broadcast
over the sea. No interruption came.
The village was some distance away, and
the noise passed unheard or unheeded.
“C Q D! C Q D!” he called.</p>

<p>At last the answer came, faint but distinct,
whispering in through the microphone
on his head. “Hello! Hello!
Hello!” it sounded. “Who’s this?”</p>

<p>“Survivor of the wrecked steamer
Queen, now on board an unknown steamer
in the middle of the Sargasso Sea. Is
this Guantanamo?”</p>

<p>Sharply the answer came: “Yes. What
did you say? Survivors of the Queen?
Good Heavens, you were given up for
lost. How many are you?”</p>

<p>“Three! Miss Fairfax—”</p>

<p>“Great Scott! Colonel Fairfax has
been wild. Who else?”</p>

<p>“Police Officer Jackson!”</p>

<p>“Yes.”</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_141">[141]</span>“And Frank Howard.”</p>

<p>“What! The murderer?”</p>

<p>“No. The convict. This is he talking.”</p>

<p>“Oh! Beg pardon! Didn’t mean to
hurt your feelings. Where did you say
you were?”</p>

<p>“We drifted into the Sargasso Sea on
the Queen, and brought up finally against
the wreck-pack in the middle. Then we
changed to another ship. It’s a long
story. You’d better note it down carefully.
I may be cut off any minute.”</p>

<p>“Oh! I’ll note it down all right. Go
ahead. But first about the others on the
Queen. Two boats got to port all right.
How about the third?”</p>

<p>“Capsized! All lost except Miss Fairfax,
who was washed back to the Queen,
and pulled aboard by Jackson and Howard,
who had been left there by accident.
Now listen. This is urgent. We are in
great danger here, and need aid at the
first possible moment——”</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_142">[142]</span>“In danger? What’s the matter?”</p>

<p>“Listen, and I’ll tell you.”</p>

<p>Hurriedly, but concisely, Howard narrated
their adventures, describing the
wreck-pack and its queer colony, and
pointing out the danger to which Miss
Fairfax was subjected. Toward the end
of the story, Guantanamo evidently became
restless, for he broke in.</p>

<p>“Say!” he clicked, disgustedly. “Do
you expect me to believe all that?”</p>

<p>“Surely. Why not?”</p>

<p>“Because it’s nonsense. Say, friend,
you are wasted at sea. You ought to be
a New York yellow-journal reporter.
Now, who the devil are you, really?”</p>

<p>“I’ve told you.”</p>

<p>“You’ve told me a pack of lies—begging
your pardon. I’d got into a pretty
fix if I reported this nonsense; now,
wouldn’t I?”</p>

<p>“You’ll get into a worse one if you
don’t. For God’s sake, man, don’t be a
skeptical fool. As I’ve told you, I’m a<span class="pagenum" id="Page_143">[143]</span>
prisoner, and am only able to talk to you
because this man Forbes apparently
knows nothing of the wireless. My jail
may be changed any minute, and I may
never get another chance. This thing is
very serious. There are about twenty-five
people hopelessly confined here on
these wrecks, and aid should be sent them
at once.”</p>

<p>“Bah! You mean to tell me that
people have been living there for years
and years, and nobody has ever found it
out?”</p>

<p>“Lots of people have found it out,
but nobody has ever gone back to tell.
If you never heard of the wreck-pack,
ask any old sailor, and he’ll tell you of
it—though he’s never seen it or known
any one who has. Why shouldn’t there
be people on it?”</p>

<p>“Well, suppose there are. How can
we help you?”</p>

<p>“A ship can get to us if it tries hard
enough. The weed can be cut through,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_144">[144]</span>
though with difficulty. A sort of steam-saw
projecting over the bow will do the
work. The propeller will have to be
screened to prevent fouling. Perhaps a
paddle-wheel steamer would get along
best. When it is once in, it should skirt
the edge of the wreckage till it finds us.
The latitude and longitude I have given
you are only approximate. I have no
proper instruments.”</p>

<p>“Who shall I notify?”</p>

<p>“Notify Colonel Fairfax, first of all.
This Forbes may keep his threat and
marry Miss Fairfax by force, or he may
not. He shall not if I can help it. But
I’m a prisoner and helpless just at present,
though I have made at least one
friend and hope for some others. Anyway,
Colonel Fairfax will want to rescue
his daughter. Then notify the government;
there must be ships at Guantanamo
now that could start for here very
soon. Then notify the newspapers; if
no one else will help us, they will. Notify<span class="pagenum" id="Page_145">[145]</span>
anybody and everybody you like. Stop!
Somebody’s coming. Keep out till I call
you again.”</p>

<p>It was only the Irishman who came to
take away the tray. He must have heard
the rumbling of the wireless, for only a
deaf man could have failed to do so, but
he asked no questions about it, though he
looked sharply at the instruments that
Howard had thrust aside.</p>

<p>Howard in fact gave him little chance,
plying him with questions as to Forbes’s
probable course of action. After he had
gone, Howard talked with Guantanamo
until late in the night.</p>

<p>The next morning the man came again.
“Can you foight, sor?” he demanded.</p>

<p>“Fighting is my trade, Joyce. Why?”</p>

<p>“Well, sor, the captain’s going to
marry the young lady at four o’clock the
day, unless somebody stops him. And
the only way to stop him is to foight him.
It’s a big man an’ a bad man he is, sor.
Are ye game for it?”</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_146">[146]</span>Howard smiled. “Oh! yes. I’m game,”
he declared.</p>

<p>“Then I’ll get ye out in good time.
Tare and ’oun’s, but it’ll be a grand
foight entoirely.”</p>
<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" />

<div class="chapter">
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_147">[147]</span>

<h2 class="nobreak">XI</h2>
</div>

<p><span class="smcap">In</span> accepting Captain Forbes’s invitation
to supper Dorothy had taken it for
granted that the other two survivors of
the Queen were included, and was somewhat
startled to find that they were not.</p>

<p>“Gallegher insisted on your friends
eating with him,” explained Forbes, with
a smile. “He declared that I might have
the best, but that I shouldn’t hog everything,
and I had to give in.”</p>

<p>Dorothy accepted the explanation, but
her heart beat anxiously. Nor was her
anxiety lessened by Captain Forbes’s attitude.
Had she not been warned of his
probable designs, she might have passed
over his behavior as merely the would-be
gallantry of an uncultivated man, and
even then would have found it sufficiently
offensive. But, in view of all she had been
told, its import quickly became portentous.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_148">[148]</span>
Between extravagant compliments,
often so pointed as to cause her considerable
embarrassment, Forbes sandwiched
encomiums of the life on the wreckage,
for support of which he appealed to
Mother Joyce, declaring that Dorothy
would soon submit to the inevitable, and
settle down to remain there for life. All
suggestions as to the possibility of escape
he pushed aside.</p>

<p>“Our known history of life here goes
back for more than fifty years,” he declared,
“and in that time nobody has escaped.
Nobody ever will. It’s impossible.
You will fight against the idea for
awhile, and then settle down to enjoy
yourself.”</p>

<p>“Enjoy myself!”</p>

<p>“Why not? We have everything here
that any one needs—all the necessaries,
and far more of the luxuries than any
except a very few favored people enjoy
anywhere. We have a storehouse full of
everything that delights a woman, and if<span class="pagenum" id="Page_149">[149]</span>
it was destroyed to-morrow, we could
easily fill it again. Duplicates of all its
contents will drift in to us again sooner
or later on some ship. Ask what you will,
and it will be my delight to lay it at your
feet.”</p>

<p>Dorothy tried to smile. “Very well,
then,” she particularized, “just give me a
telegraph-office.”</p>

<p>“With pleasure. We have a complete
outfit. I’m sorry to say, though, that the
wires are not strung yet.”</p>

<p>“Then give me a boat and a—compass,
isn’t it, that we need?”</p>

<p>“Those are about the only things we
cannot furnish, Miss Fairfax. When
sailors are forced to leave their ships,
they invariably take the boats and the
compasses with them. But why do you
wish to leave us? It will be our constant
study to make you happy. You shall have
the best of everything, and your lightest
wish shall be law.”</p>

<p>“My only wish is to get back to dry<span class="pagenum" id="Page_150">[150]</span>
land. If my wish is law, help me to do
so.”</p>

<p>“I cannot! And I would not if I could.
I have waited long for a woman as fair
and sweet as you to drift in to me, and
now that you have come, I will not give
you up lightly. The wrecks and their
contents are ours by right of salvage.
You, too, are salvage—and the fairest salvage
I have ever known.”</p>

<p>This was forcing the game with a vengeance.
Dorothy’s lip quivered, and she
cast a frightened glance at Mother Joyce.
But that lady was eating her supper
stolidly, and made no sign. Evidently,
for the moment at least, she intended to
let Dorothy play her own hand.</p>

<p>Forbes continued: “No, you are here
for life, Miss Fairfax. I regret it for
your sake, but I rejoice in it for my own.
You are here for life, and you must make
up your mind to it, choose a husband, and
settle down.”</p>

<p>“I shall never marry.”</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_151">[151]</span>“You must consider a moment. There
are twenty-two of us men here and only
two women. Under such circumstances,
how can we afford to permit any woman
to remain single. We used to do it years
ago, when the disproportion was not quite
so great, and what was the result? Decimation
of our numbers, no less! The
men quarreled and fought and murdered
each other, exactly as wild beasts do, all
for the sake of one woman. Well do I
remember the last time this happened!
In a week five men had been killed, and
bad blood stirred up that did not subside
for years. We could not chance a repetition
of this sort of thing, and we made
a law that every woman who arrived here
must marry within twenty-four hours.
She could choose any one she liked, but
choose she must.”</p>

<p>“But no such rule can apply to me.”</p>

<p>“Why not? You are a lady, of course,
and far above the level of nine-tenths of
the men here. But there is the remaining<span class="pagenum" id="Page_152">[152]</span>
tenth to choose from. Of course,
none of us are worthy of you, but—we
will make good husbands.”</p>

<p>Dorothy tried to laugh the words away,
but could not. She told herself that all
this was some horrible dream from which
she would presently awake, but all the
while she knew it was terribly real. The
toils were closing round her fast. Her
thoughts flew to Howard. He, she felt,
would save her, if man could; but he was
one, and Forbes and his followers were
many. If it came to a struggle the result
would be inevitable. What could she do?
What <i>could</i> she do?</p>

<p>Forbes was watching her keenly. “You
realize the situation now?” he continued.
“For our own welfare we cannot permit
you to remain single. You could not get
away, and we would not permit you to do
so if you could. You must marry—in
twenty-four hours. And since you must
marry, let me advise you to choose one
who can provide for you—and there is no<span class="pagenum" id="Page_153">[153]</span>
one here who can do that so well as I. I
won’t talk about love—that is for boys,
and I am a man; but if you will marry
me, you shall be queen here. Come!
what do you say?”</p>

<p>Dorothy pushed back her chair and
rose. “I say that this is utterly preposterous.
I will not marry any one on compulsion.
Certainly I will not marry you.
I wish you good day, Captain Forbes.”</p>

<p>She turned toward the door, but Forbes
stepped before her.</p>

<p>“One moment, Miss Fairfax,” he said.
“I know how you feel, and I do not wish
to turn you against me by undue persistency.
If you want to go now, go! But
think over what I have said. I believe
that you will come to see that it is the best
thing you can possibly do. Talk it over
with your friends, I think they will advise
you to consent. At all events, you have
twenty-four hours—till four o’clock to-morrow,
to get used to the idea. Take
my advice and wait calmly till then.”</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_154">[154]</span>Dorothy bowed haughtily. “Very
well,” she returned. “I will wait. Now,
will you kindly summon my friends. I
wish to return to my ship.”</p>

<p>Forbes’ lips curved in a cruel smile.
“<i>Your</i> ship, Miss Fairfax,” he echoed.
“You have no ship. You and your companions
abandoned the Queen of your
own accord, and by the law of the sea
she and everything on her became the
property of any one who salvaged her.
My men have taken possession of everything,
including your abandoned trunks—which
are now mine. You have no place
to lay your head, and nothing in the world
except what you have on your person.
However, I am not unkind. For twenty-four
hours I will give you food and shelter.
At the end of that time—well, we
will see. Now you may go with Mother
Joyce, who will care for you. And think
over my proposition.”</p>
<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" />

<div class="chapter">
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_155">[155]</span>

<h2 class="nobreak">XII</h2>
</div>

<p><span class="smcap">Dorothy’s</span> hours of grace passed all too
quickly. The girl’s natural impulse was
to turn at once to Howard for aid, and
when the moments sped by without bringing
him, she turned to Mrs. Joyce and
learned of his imprisonment.</p>

<p>“But don’t you be worryin’ about that,
miss,” said the kindly Irishwoman. “It’s
safe and sound he is. The cap’n is just
kapin’ him locked up till after the wedding.”</p>

<p>“There’ll be no wedding,” flashed Dorothy.</p>

<p>“An’ why not? It’s worse you might
do, my dear. All men are cantankerous,
but Cap’n Forbes ain’t a bad sort, if you
take him the right way; an’ he’ll make a
good husband—the best here, anyway.
An’ you’ve got to remember that while
a smart man might get out of here, if<span class="pagenum" id="Page_156">[156]</span>
he was free, even the smartest man—let
alone a woman—couldn’t if the cap’n
didn’t want him to; and sure it is the
cap’n don’t want you to go. I know it’s
hard, but I don’t see but what it’s the
best thing you can do—seein’ you
wouldn’t marry your friend, Mr. Howard,
under any circumstances.” And
Mother Joyce glanced quizzically into
Dorothy’s face.</p>

<p>The girl blushed; then hid her face.
“Oh! Mrs. Joyce,” she sobbed. “I—he—things
were different when I said that.”</p>

<p>“Oh! indade! Now, were they? You
nad’n’t say any more, miss. A nod’s as
good as a wink to a blind horse. It’s a
fine, upstandin’ young fellow he is, and I
don’t blame you. Joyce and I’ll do what
we can for you and him. And you’ll not
be lavin’ us behind when you sail away?”</p>

<p>“Leave you! Never!”</p>

<p>Fortunate it was that this understanding
had been reached so quickly, for little<span class="pagenum" id="Page_157">[157]</span>
further opportunity for talk was offered
later. All that evening and all the next
morning the members of the community
visited Dorothy, one by one, each with
tales to tell of the pleasures of life in the
Sea and with praises of Captain Forbes.
Not one seemed disposed to help the girl.</p>

<p>Even Mr. Willoughby, the minister,
could give her little comfort. When she
appealed to him directly to help her, he
squirmed uncomfortably.</p>

<p>“Captain Forbes is a man of wrath,”
he mumbled; “hard to resist. My sacred
calling is of little import in his eyes. If
you decide to refuse him, I trust I shall
find strength to offer you such support as
I may. But you must remember that I
am only one—and a man of peace besides.”</p>

<p>Clearly there was little hope to be
placed in the minister. But Dorothy
made one more appeal.</p>

<p>“You could refuse to perform the ceremony,”
she suggested, tearfully.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_158">[158]</span>“And so I shall,” promised Mr. Willoughby.
“If I must,” he added, with
quickly following repentance. “But to
what end? Captain Forbes is a sea-captain,
and as such can perform marriages
at sea. Whether he can marry himself
is doubtful. But I know him; he will
settle the doubt in his own favor and
marry you willy-nilly. I—I really think
that you had best submit. Since you have
to stay here, you cannot occupy a better
place than as Captain Forbes’s wife.”</p>

<p>“But I don’t have to stay. I won’t
stay. Mr. Howard promised——” She
stopped and bit her lip. “I see you cannot
help me, Mr. Willoughby,” she finished.
“Good morning.”</p>

<p>The minister sneaked away, and Prudence
Gallegher crept in, weak, ill, and
frightened, to add her mite to the weight
that was crushing Dorothy’s heart.</p>

<p>“I’m sorry,” she whimpered, glancing
fearfully behind her from time to time.
“Oh, I’m so sorry. But—but hadn’t you<span class="pagenum" id="Page_159">[159]</span>
better marry Cap’n Forbes? Nobody
will dare to hurt him, and—and—you
won’t be handed on from one to another
as I was.”</p>

<p>This sort of thing, kept up almost without
cessation for twenty-four hours, drove
Dorothy almost to distraction. As four
o’clock drew near, her condition grew
pitiful. In vain she looked for a means
of escape. If any had offered she would
have taken it instantly, facing without
hesitation the terrors of the foodless desert
in the heart of the wreckage. But
none did offer. Always she was surrounded
by jailers. She could see no
hope anywhere—nothing to do but resist
till the last, and then—— What then?
What should she do then? What could
she do? One weak girl beset by a score
of men. Her brain reeled at the thought.</p>

<p>Eight bells rang out, and Joe appeared
at the door.</p>

<p>“Cap’n Forbes says as how will you
an’ Mother Joyce please step on deck,
miss,” he petitioned.</p>
<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" />

<div class="chapter">
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_160">[160]</span>

<h2 class="nobreak">XIII</h2>
</div>

<p><span class="smcap">The</span> deck had been decorated as for a
gala occasion. Bright-colored flags were
twined everywhere under the cool, airy
awnings; canaries, in gilded cages, hung
about, each carolling at the top of its
tiny throat; the members of the colony
were all standing about, each dressed in
garments which, though perhaps lacking
somewhat in taste and style, at least left
nothing to be desired in the way of color
or ornament. The scene, though odd, was
undoubtedly bright and cheerful.</p>

<p>Mother Joyce led Dorothy to a slightly
raised platform, in front of which were
ranged chairs, in which, at her approach,
the sailors hurriedly seated themselves.
Dorothy looked eagerly among them for a
sight of Howard, and her last hope vanished
when she knew he was not there.</p>

<p>As she stepped upon the platform,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_161">[161]</span>
Forbes came up from below. Clean
shaven, and well and correctly dressed,
he furnished a strong contrast to the
others with their motley attire.</p>

<p>He bowed courteously to Dorothy, and
greeted her as though their relations
were of the pleasantest. “Please sit
down for a moment,” he concluded, and
turned away without waiting to see
whether the invitation was accepted.</p>

<p>“Men,” he said, stepping to the edge
of the platform and looking them over,
“by our laws every unmarried woman
coming into this community must, within
twenty-four hours, choose a husband from
those who come forward to offer themselves.
The one she chooses must defend
his right against all others, and, if conquered,
must give way to his conqueror.
So she will wed the best man, and all
smoldering quarrels that might disrupt
our community will be avoided.”</p>

<p>He paused a moment and then went on:</p>

<p>“As you all know, Miss Fairfax joined<span class="pagenum" id="Page_162">[162]</span>
us yesterday. She is so far above all
of us in beauty, grace, and culture that
it is presumptuous for any of us to aspire
to her hand. Yet, the law is the law, and
we must all bow to it. So I call on all
candidates for her hand to speak out that
she may choose. I offer, for one. Who
else comes forward?”</p>

<p>He stopped and looked around inquiringly,
but no one moved. Evidently all
knew what was planned, and had no wish
to interpose. Even if not awed by his
ascendency, his significant assertion that
the favored suitor must defend his right
against all comers was enough to give
them pause. For Forbes was six feet
high, broad and strong in proportion.</p>

<p>After a moment, seeing that no one
spoke, Forbes turned to Dorothy. “It
seems, fair lady,” he began, “that I am
the only suitor for your hand. I beg you
to believe, however, that this is rather
from the desire of my men not to oppose
the dearest hope of their captain, whom<span class="pagenum" id="Page_163">[163]</span>
they so love, than from any lack of appreciation
of your charms. But it comes
to the same thing. I am the only candidate.
Does it please you to accept
me?”</p>

<p>Dorothy rose and faced him. “Sir,”
she said, with a break in her voice. “I
am only a girl, alone, unprotected, far
from all her friends. I beg you, I implore
you, to be merciful. Do not do this thing.
Let me go.”</p>

<p>Forbes shook his head. “Your presence
here, single, must cause strife,” he
began, “and——”</p>

<p>“Then let me go away. Let me wander
away by myself. You nor your men shall
ever see me again. I will lose myself in
the wreckage, and——”</p>

<p>“You are salvage, and I cannot surrender
you.”</p>

<p>“Think! Think! My father is rich—a
multimillionaire. In his name I promise
you a million dollars if you will spare
me and get me back to him. Think! A
million dollars.”</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_164">[164]</span>“Even if I would, it is impossible. We
are all alike helpless here.”</p>

<p>“You will not spare me?”</p>

<p>“I love you too much to do so.”</p>

<p>With a quick movement Dorothy
pushed by him and faced the others.
“Men,” she cried, “will you let this thing
be done? Will you let me be forced into
marriage with a man I loathe. For God’s
sake have pity on me, and say to this man
that he shall not do this thing.”</p>

<p>The men shifted uneasily in their seats,
but no one spoke. Dorothy’s eyes
flashed.</p>

<p>“Cowards!” she cried. “Is there not
one of you who dares face this man.
Come! I offer you a bargain. If any
man will save me, to him will I give myself
in all wifely humility. Any man!
<i>Any</i> man! Speak! What! Does no one
speak? Am I so poor a prize?”</p>

<p>“I speak!”</p>

<p>Absorbed in the scene, no one had noted
Howard’s approach, but at the sound of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_165">[165]</span>
his voice all faced him. His sea-stained
clothes were torn, and there was a fleck
of blood on his lip, but his glance was
high.</p>

<p>“I speak,” he repeated. “Not for the
prize, but for the honor of womanhood.”
He turned to Forbes, who had flushed
furiously at his appearance. “Ah! you
craven,” he flared. “You thought you
had me safe while you worked your coward
will. Look better to your shackles
next time.”</p>

<p>Three or four of the men had risen and
were closing in on Howard, but Forbes
waved them back. “Since you are here,”
he remarked, nonchalantly, “do I understand
that you offer as a candidate for
the lady’s hand? If not, you have no
standing.”</p>

<p>“I offer for anything that will save
this lady from your insults.”</p>

<p>“Ah! So you <i>do</i> offer. That is well.
That is in line with the very object of
this ceremony and shows the wisdom of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_166">[166]</span>
our laws. You and I will fight this out
and bury all ill-feeling—in your grave.
Kindly choose some one as second, and
let’s get to work.”</p>

<p>Howard looked around him. “I’ll take
my companion, Jackson,” he decided. “I
suppose you’ve got him locked up somewhere.”</p>

<p>“Bring him,” ordered Forbes, calmly.
He turned to Howard and began to take
off his coat. “Get ready,” he ordered.</p>

<p>“You’ll give me fair play?”</p>

<p>“Surely. And marry you to the lady—if
you win.”</p>

<p>In the revulsion of feeling consequent
on the appearance of her champion, Dorothy’s
limbs had given way, and she would
have fallen had not Mother Joyce caught
her and helped her to a chair, where she
leaned back, white and dazed. When
she recovered enough to note what was
going on, Howard and Forbes, stripped
to the waist, stood facing each other before
her, the latter towering, giant-like,
above his smaller adversary.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_167">[167]</span>With a cry she sought to struggle up,
but Mother Joyce restrained her. “Don’t
interfere,” she whispered. “It’s your
only chance.”</p>

<p>“But he’ll kill him.”</p>

<p>The older woman seemed to have no
difficulty in assigning the confused pronouns
correctly. “I’m not so sure,” she
muttered consolingly. “I fancy the captain
has his work cut out for him. Anyhow,
it’s for you to kape still.”</p>

<p>Jackson’s eyes had lighted up when he
had reached Howard’s side and understood
what game was on. “It’s many a
fight I had in the ring myself before I
went on the force,” he whispered, with
something very nearly approaching enthusiasm.
“It’s a big fellow he is. Can
you do him?”</p>

<p>Howard smiled grimly. “I’ve got to,”
he answered.</p>

<p>“Well, take the tip from me and tire
him out. He’s too big to rush, and if he
hits you square once, he’ll knock you out<span class="pagenum" id="Page_168">[168]</span>
of the ring. Sprint all you can. Get him
mad. He’s got a wicked temper, if I
know anything of men; and when he
loses it, he’ll forget to guard, and you
can slug him.”</p>

<p>Under other circumstances Howard
would have smiled at the detective’s unaccustomed
volubility, but at the moment
he had other things to think about. With
a nod to show that he understood, he
stepped forward to face his adversary.</p>

<p>The disproportion between the two men
was very marked. Howard was not a
small man, but Forbes was several inches
taller, and at least forty pounds heavier.
His corded arms looked capable of felling
an ox. On the other hand, he was twenty
years older, and presumably, slower in
his movements than the naval officer, who
was in the prime of the late twenties.</p>

<p>Forbes wasted no time in preliminaries.
Evidently he meant to show his
power by crushing his adversary without
delay. The moment that Howard faced<span class="pagenum" id="Page_169">[169]</span>
him he sprang forward and launched a
right-hand swing that would have ended
the fight then and there had it connected
with Howard’s body. But it did not connect.
Howard sprang back, just out of
reach, and returned a half-arm jolt that
brought the big man up standing.</p>

<p>“Ugh!” he exclaimed, stepping back.
Then he grinned viciously. “You know
something, do you,” he half soliloquized.
“So much the better. There’ll be some
sport in it.”</p>

<p>He rushed in again, striking furiously.</p>

<p>Howard gave ground slowly under the
attack, dodging when he could, parrying
as he might, every nerve alert to save
himself from being crushed by the sheer
weight of his adversary. In vain Forbes
tried to beat down his guard. Dorothy’s
frightened face was ever before his eyes,
and he fought on breathless, but unharmed,
until the first fury of the attack
had spent itself; until the passing moments
told him that the struggle would<span class="pagenum" id="Page_170">[170]</span>
not be so uneven as it had seemed. Exultation
swelled in him when at last he could
stand steady and give back blow for blow.</p>

<p>Gradually his opponent’s mood changed.
From coolness to anger; from anger to
baffled fury. Howard watched the
changes as they mirrored themselves in
the other’s face. And when, with the
recklessness of utter rage, Forbes dropped
his guard and threw all his weight
into one smashing blow, Howard ducked
beneath it, swung his right with deadly
force against the bull neck and beat the
devil’s tattoo on the thick ribs before
him.</p>

<p>Then the round ended.</p>

<p>But Howard knew that there was still
plenty of fight in the big man. He had
shaken him, but had accomplished nothing
more. Indeed, the fury of the attack
in the second round was little less than
that of the first, and Howard again had
to give ground. Had Forbes been able
to regain his temper as he had regained<span class="pagenum" id="Page_171">[171]</span>
his strength, there would still have been
little doubt as to the result.</p>

<p>But this the captain could not do. So
often had he fought and won in the past,
so invariably had his bull strength served
him well, that he could not believe that he
had at last met one who could withstand
him. Wild with rage, he spent himself
against the impenetrable defense of the
naval officer until the second round ended
with the odds of the fight in favor of the
latter.</p>

<p>So plain was this that Gallegher urged
treachery, only to be repelled; not yet
would Forbes admit the possibility of defeat.
“Naw! I’ll kill him myself,” he
muttered hoarsely, as, red-eyed, he stumbled
forward once more to the attack.</p>

<p>Howard met him with changed tactics.
Jackson’s trained eye had read the signs,
and he had counselled the officer wisely.
“Rush him,” he had said. “Rush him.
He’s all in. Don’t give him time to get
his second wind. Rush him.”</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_172">[172]</span>And Howard obeyed, drawing on some
fount of nervous energy for a fury of
attack almost as violent as Forbes’s had
been. The fighting rage was on him at
last, and bubbled over in words.</p>

<p>“So you’ll persecute a helpless woman,
will you,” he jeered, as he handed a
jolt on the captain’s cheek. “How
do you like to face a man? Oh! never
mind that eye; you’ve got one left. Don’t
worry about your nose; it’ll straighten
out again. Here’s one for your solar
plexus. Why don’t you guard better?
And here’s the end of the show.”</p>

<p>With every ounce of his weight behind
it, he drove his left against the point of
the captain’s chin, and that individual
went down like a pole-axed ox and lay
still.</p>

<p>As he fell Gallegher sprang forward,
belaying-pin in hand, but shrank back
again as Jackson shoved his revolver into
his face.</p>

<p>“Hold hard!” cried the policeman.
“Fair play, ain’t it, mates?”</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_173">[173]</span>For an instant the situation hung in
the wind as the sailors hesitated. Then
Joyce sang out:</p>

<p>“Fair play!” he cried. “The cap’n
said he should have fair play. And hurrah
for Lootenant Howard, says I.”</p>

<p>Sailors are like children; a straw will
turn them. With one accord they burst
into a cheer. “It was a good fight,” they
cried. “The lieutenant’s won the girl
fair.”</p>

<p>While they had hesitated Howard had
acted. He was under no illusions as to
the permanency of their mood, and, even
as they cheered him, he turned to
Dorothy.</p>

<p>“Quick!” he whispered. “Don’t lose
a moment. Come, Jackson! Get Miss
Fairfax out of this and back to the Queen.
I’ll cover your retreat.”</p>

<p>But escape was not to be so easy. As
Howard turned to face the sailors, Forbes
struggled to his feet. His face was gray
with rage and his words came thick.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_174">[174]</span>“You’ve won,” he gritted. “You’ve
won. Take your prize.” Then his eyes
fell on Dorothy and Jackson, now close
to the edge of the deck. “Stop those
two!” he yelled. “By Heaven, no one
shall say Peter Forbes does not play fair.
She’s chosen you, you infernal convict,
and marry you she shall, here and now.”</p>

<p>Howard faced him. “I refuse,” he declared.
“Miss Fairfax owes me nothing.
I give her back her promise.”</p>

<p>“You do! Then she shall marry me.
Me or you! The captain or the jailbird.
We’ll have a wedding before we part.”</p>

<p>The man’s face was a mass of cuts and
bruises, and his words came gaspingly;
but there was no doubt that he was in
earnest, and none that he had the men
behind him.</p>

<p>Fickle as the wind, they veered back to
his side. “A wedding. Let’s have a wedding!”
they cried.</p>

<p>Howard looked despairingly around,
then darted to the mainmast, caught up<span class="pagenum" id="Page_175">[175]</span>
a handspike, and swung Dorothy behind
him. The fight would be hopeless, but it
was for her!</p>

<p>“Come on,” he challenged.</p>

<p>Grimly the men drew near, but before
a blow could be struck, Dorothy’s voice
rang out.</p>

<p>“Wait!” she cried. Then she turned
to Howard. “If you will have me, I will
marry you,” she murmured, gently.</p>
<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" />

<div class="chapter">
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_176">[176]</span>

<h2 class="nobreak">XIV</h2>
</div>

<p><span class="smcap">Night</span> was falling fast as Howard and
Dorothy, with Jackson close behind, made
their way slowly back to the Queen over
the tangled wreckage, following the trail
blazed by Howard two days before. The
Joyces had promised to join them later.</p>

<p>Except for necessary help and caution
about the road, the three walked and
climbed for the most part in silence, each
immersed in thought. Only once did Dorothy
speak.</p>

<p>“Captain Forbes said that his men had
taken possession of the Queen and were
removing her stores,” she warned. “Do
you think he was telling the truth?”</p>

<p>Howard shook his head. “Probably
not,” he answered. “But we shall see.”</p>

<p>The Queen came in view at last, and
each of the three thrilled at sight of her
familiar form. Wrecked, ruined, half-sunken,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_177">[177]</span>
nevertheless she stood to all three
as a home and place of refuge, however
insecure. Glad as they had been to leave
her, they were far gladder to return and
find her untouched. For Forbes had been
lying.</p>

<p>With the touch of the deck beneath
their feet, a feeling of embarrassment
descended on the three. On the way over
they had been silent because they were
thinking; now they were silent because of
the strange new relation in which they
stood to each other. Even Jackson was conscious
of it, and stammered and hesitated
when he tried to speak; while Dorothy’s
flushed cheeks and quivering lips showed
that the nerves which had so well sustained
her while necessity lasted, were on
the verge of giving way.</p>

<p>Fortunately supper had to be prepared
and served and eaten, and these familiar
tasks relieved the tension somewhat.
Even then no one dared to speak of what
had occurred, though no one thought of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_178">[178]</span>
anything else. The thing lay too close to
their hearts to be lightly or easily
broached. At last Jackson, with glances
at his two companions, threw down his
knife and fork and slouched out of the
saloon without a word.</p>

<p>Left alone, the girl and the man looked
at each other, she with trembling lips and
lovely, frightened eyes, and he with an
infinite compassion in his face.</p>

<p>“You want to say something to me?”
he questioned, gently. “Say it. Don’t
be afraid. You will find that I can understand.”</p>

<p>Tears welled in Dorothy’s eyes. “To-day,”
she murmured, brokenly, “I made
a bargain. I saw myself trapped, driven
into marriage with a man whom I loathed—oh,
God only knows how I had come to
loathe him! Anything was better than he—anything!
So I made my offer. I
would be a loyal wife to any man who
would save me from Captain Forbes. You
answered.”</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_179">[179]</span>“I answered.”</p>

<p>“You are a much smaller man than
Captain Forbes. No one would have
thought you a match for him, least of all
himself. He meant to kill you. There
was murder in his eye. You must have
seen it. Yet you faced him. Why did
you do it?”</p>

<p>Howard shrugged his shoulders. “You
make too much of the affair,” he said,
lightly. “The man was strong, but he
was past his first youth and moved slowly.
After the first two minutes I had no
fear of the result. But you ask me why
I came forward. What else could any
gentleman do—and, in spite of my trial
and conviction, I trust I am still a gentleman.
I came forward because I had to.”</p>

<p>“Then you did not fight for the poor
prize I offered?”</p>

<p>Howard smiled. “Assuredly not,” he
answered. “Why, you yourself saw that
I was ready to fight again a moment later
to avoid taking it!”</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_180">[180]</span>“But you took it.”</p>

<p>“Yes—I took it.”</p>

<p>“And now I ask you to give it up
again. I—I—Mr. Howard, I have heard
of you for two years. You have been
painted very black in my eyes. I have
known you two weeks, and they have reversed
the picture. I should not have
looked for generosity in the man I once
thought you to be, but I beg it from the
man I have found you to be. I am your
wife. I have promised before God to be
loyal, loving, and obedient to you. I
made that promise with my eyes open,
and if you ask it I shall try to keep it. I
am not of those who take their marriage
vows lightly. I am your wife and I am
wholly at your mercy. But—but—you do
not love me nor I you. We are mere
acquaintances. Do not—oh, it is hard for
me to say this. Have pity on me. Hold
me, not as your wife, as I must hold myself,
but as only a poor girl in distress,
and—see, I kneel to you——”</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_181">[181]</span>Howard caught her hands and drew her
to her feet again. “Poor little girl,” he
murmured gently. “So that is what is
troubling you! Do not fear. You are
my wife—yes. But it is a tie that can
easily be sundered when once we get back
to dry land. A marriage like this is no
marriage without the after-consent of the
parties. Any court in the land would dissolve
it—or, more likely, declare it null
and void from the beginning. Do not
fear. You are quite safe with me.”</p>

<p>Dorothy’s breath came fast, but she did
not speak. She tottered and put her hand
out for support. Howard guided her to
a chair.</p>

<p>“Sit quietly for a moment,” he ordered
gently. “I must see Jackson about something,
but I will soon be back and help you
to your state-room. You must be worn
out.”</p>

<p>With the last word he turned and went
up the companionway, more to give the
girl time to recover herself than because<span class="pagenum" id="Page_182">[182]</span>
of any desire to see Jackson. As he
reached the top of the stairs his foot
struck something, and he stooped and
picked up a pistol wrapped round with
a half-sheet of paper.</p>

<p>Wonderingly he took it to the lamp.
He read:</p>

<div class="blockquot">

<p>I know where Forbes keeps his rifles. Mrs. Joyce
is going to get some of them for us. I’m going back
to help. I leave my pistol in case I don’t get back.
Anyhow, I guess you’d rather be alone to-night.</p>

<p class="right">
<span class="smcap">Jackson.</span></p>

<p>P.S.—That was a great match.—J.</p>
</div>

<p>Howard laughed bitterly. Then he
turned and descended the stairs.</p>

<p>“Jackson has gone on an errand to
Mrs. Joyce,” he said. “He left his pistol
for you. After what has happened, he
thinks, and I think, that you had better
be armed. If any man—if <i>any</i> man molests
you do not hesitate to use it. I believe
you told me once that you were
rather a good shot.”</p>

<p>It had been no part of Howard’s intention
to spend the night upon the Queen.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_183">[183]</span>
He had no faith in Forbes’s protestations
of fair play, and felt certain that he
would hear from that individual very
shortly and in unpleasant fashion. Although
he scarcely expected any attack
that night, doubting Forbes’s ability to
bring his men to the fighting point so
speedily, he intended to take no chances,
and to seek sleeping quarters on some
near-by vessel. But Dorothy’s fear of
himself and her very evident nearness
to collapse, taken with Jackson’s unexpected
departure, had knocked his plans
completely on the head.</p>

<p>After Dorothy had retired, he sat up
for some time considering the situation.
He was terribly sore and wearied from
the heart-breaking struggle of the afternoon,
which had been nothing like so easy
as he had portrayed it to Dorothy. Coming
on top of the anxiety of his confinement,
in ignorance of what was happening
to the girl he had promised to restore
to her home, it had nearly worn him out.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_184">[184]</span>
The question that presented itself to him
was whether he should trust to his belief
in Forbes’s inability to resume the struggle
so quickly, and take his much-needed
rest so as to be ready for the probable
stress of the morrow, or whether he
should remain on watch all night and
thereby be less efficient the next day, supposing
the contest were put off till then.</p>

<p>Doubts and difficulties lay in each alternative,
but he finally decided to sleep
while he could, trusting to his life-long
ability to awake fully and instantly at
the slightest unaccustomed sound. He did
not believe that Forbes and his men could
steal upon him without waking him; and,
in any event, he could not hope, alone
and unarmed, to keep them off the ship.</p>

<p>So, after stringing several ropes across
the gangway in the deepest shadows of
the Queen’s deck, he slipped into his
state-room, just across the corridor from
Dorothy’s, and lay down, fully dressed,
with an axe—his sole weapon, since he<span class="pagenum" id="Page_185">[185]</span>
had given Dorothy Jackson’s pistol—close
beside him. In an instant he was
fast asleep.</p>

<p>He was aroused several hours later by
a sound whose cause he had no difficulty
in interpreting. Somebody had tripped
over one of the ropes he had stretched,
and had fallen. Instantly he was on his
feet, axe in hand, and was cautiously
opening his door. Stillness now reigned,
but Howard had no doubt that murder
was stalking close at hand.</p>

<p>With infinite precaution he stole from
the room, noted that Dorothy’s door was
still fast, and slipped like a shadow along
the corridor. It took him half an hour
to gain the other deck, scarcely fifty feet
from where he had slept. But when he
had done so, he was certain that no foes
lurked in his rear.</p>

<p>The moon loomed huge in the cloudless
sky as he peered from the door of the
social hall. Before him the deck stretched
away, silvery-white except where criss-crossed<span class="pagenum" id="Page_186">[186]</span>
by the black shadows cast by the
stanchions that supported the half-furled
awnings, and by the narrow border of
shadow cast by the awnings themselves.</p>

<p>Slowly he crept out into the black border
and made his way forward, eager to
front the danger, whatever it might be.</p>

<p>But all was still save for a very faint,
rustling sound impossible to locate—a
sound like dry leaves whisking through a
November night; a sound that made Howard’s
hair stir upon his head. At two
o’clock in the morning courage is rare,
and never perfect.</p>

<p>Still Howard crept on until he reached
a spot where a broken boat-davit was
twisted across a stanchion. By this he
paused and stood listening.</p>

<p>Then, without warning, the attack came.
From the cross-beam overhead something
fell upon him with cruel force—something
heavy, crushing, deadly; some live
thing that wrapped him round and round.</p>

<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/i_186.jpg" alt="" /></div>
<p class="caption">THE END COULD NOT BE LONG DEFERRED; YET THE MAN<br />
FOUGHT ON.</p>

<p>With a half-strangled shriek of terror<span class="pagenum" id="Page_187">[187]</span>
he caught himself back against the crossed
davit and the stanchion, just in time to
involve them in the coiling horror. His
right arm, instinctly thrown aloft,
grasped vainly at the throat of a huge
serpent whose darting head cut fantastic
silhouettes against the Milky Way, while
its body tightened swiftly about his
middle.</p>

<p>Had it not been for the iron rods that
shielded him, Howard’s first cry would
have been his last. To the great snake
the resistance of a man’s body was as
nothing. One unhampered constriction
of its mighty coils would have crushed an
ox. But the davit and the stanchion
stood firm; not for nothing had they been
planned to withstand the assaults of the
sea. They held firm, while Howard, with
starting eyeballs and slowly crushing
chest, strove to beat back the forked death
that flicked about his face.</p>

<p>The end could not be long deferred;
yet the man fought on, as living things<span class="pagenum" id="Page_188">[188]</span>
will fight for life—life so common, life so
cheap, yet so desperately clung to. He
fought and shrieked until the ever-tightening
constriction stopped the inflation of
his lungs; till the roaring in his ears
swelled to thunder; till the driven blood
burst from his ears and nostrils.</p>

<p>Then came a flash and a louder roar;
the gleaming eyes that confronted him
grew suddenly dull; the great coils relaxed
and fell away; dimly he saw Dorothy’s
face; her gown white in the moonlight;
the smoking pistol in her hand.</p>

<p>Then girl and snake and moon and sky
blended in one common blur of blackness.
For the first time in his life Frank Howard
fainted.</p>

<p>When he came to, he was lying on the
deck, with his head in Dorothy’s lap. On
his face her tears dropped slowly, one by
one. As, dazed, he lay still for an instant,
he heard her pray:</p>

<p>“Oh, God! God!” she sobbed, “give
him back to me! Give my darling back
to me.”</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_189">[189]</span>A mad throb of exultation crossed
through Howard’s veins to be followed
by a quicker revulsion. “Not yet, oh,
God!” he implored in his turn silently.
“Not until——”</p>

<p>He opened his eyes and looked up into
hers.</p>

<p>The moonlight was white and bright as
day, and for one moment each looked deep
into the other’s heart.</p>

<p>“Thank God! Oh, thank God!” sobbed
the girl. “You’re alive! Alive! Alive!”</p>

<p>Howard tried to smile. “Thanks to
you,” he answered. “It was the bravest
act I have ever known. I don’t see how——”</p>

<p>But Dorothy threw up her hand.
“Please! Please, don’t speak of it!” she
implored. “I can’t bear it. I can’t bear
it.”</p>

<p>Howard struggled to his feet. He
longed to take her in his arms and comfort
her, but honor held him back. Perhaps
she loved him—yes, but she was
overwrought. He could not take advantage<span class="pagenum" id="Page_190">[190]</span>
of her emotion—nor of her position.
Later, when she was restored to her
friends—the light died from his eyes as
he remembered his own doom.</p>

<p>“Thank you,” he said softly. “It is
all that I can say. Thank you.”</p>

<p>Dorothy’s bosom heaved. “No,” she
said, “it is not all. You said more while
you were unconscious. You were about
to say more an instant ago. Then you
stopped. Why?”</p>

<p>“I—I——”</p>

<p>“I could read your heart in your eyes.
Say what you had in it. Say it! Say it!”</p>

<p>“I am not worthy. I am——”</p>

<p>“Hush! Not that! You are not guilty.
You could not be guilty. You! so brave,
so tender, so sacrificing! You! to murder
a woman. It is not true. Since the day
I first met you I have never believed it.
Since you told me the story, I have
wanted no other testimony. Now, will
you say what was in your heart a moment
ago?”</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_191">[191]</span>“I cannot. I——”</p>

<p>“Listen. To-night I said that we were
mere acquaintances. I said I did not love
you. I lied! I do love you. With all my
heart and soul I love you.”</p>

<p>“Dorothy!”</p>

<p>“Frank! Husband!”</p>
<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" />

<div class="chapter">
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_192">[192]</span>

<h2 class="nobreak">XV</h2>
</div>

<p><span class="smcap">Despite</span> the nerve and body-racking experiences
of the day before, Howard
was up and on deck the next morning at
the first peep of day, straining his eyes
for sight of Jackson and the Joyces.</p>

<p>The need for instant action was strong
upon him. He did not doubt that Forbes
had sent the snake upon him, just as
(judging from Mother Joyce’s tale to
Dorothy) he had before sent it against
one of Prudence Gallegher’s ill-fated husbands,
and he only wondered that the
doughty captain had not followed up the
attack.</p>

<p>“I suppose the fellow didn’t know how
devilish near he came to succeeding,” he
muttered to himself grimly. “But he’ll
bring his men next time, and we must
fight or get out of his reach in a hurry.
If Jackson and the others were only
here!”</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_193">[193]</span>But neither Jackson nor the Joyces
were there. Strain his eyes as he might,
Howard could see no moving figures anywhere
on the wreck-pack, and, with an
anxious sigh, he turned away to inspect
the scene of the last night’s encounter.</p>

<p>Half submerged in the weed at the foot
of the sloping deck he made out the great
body of the snake, terrible even in death,
and shuddered as he thought of what
would inevitably have been his fate had
Dorothy been less courageous or the iron
stanchions been less honestly wrought;
these last, bent almost double, gave mute
but effective evidence of the mighty power
of the reptile.</p>

<p>Wishing to save Dorothy, as far as he
could, from all reminders of the contest,
Howard lowered himself to the water’s
edge and poked the snake down beneath
the weed; then he climbed back to the taffrail
and again searched the horizon for
sight of Jackson.</p>

<p>This time his quest was successful. Approaching<span class="pagenum" id="Page_194">[194]</span>
over the wreckage, quite near
at hand, were four figures. As they drew
nearer he recognized Jackson, the minister
who had married him the day before,
Mother Joyce, and his jailer of the day
before. Each of the men carried several
rifles over his shoulder, and was girt
about with belts of cartridges. Mother
Joyce bore a less and indeterminable
weight.</p>

<p>At Howard’s call, Dorothy came on
deck to greet the newcomers. Rosy and
smiling, with head erect and sparkling
eyes, she looked little like the woebegone
maiden who had answered Forbes’s call
the day before.</p>

<p>Mother Joyce’s sharp eyes quickly
spied the difference. “Holy mither!
What’s this?” she cried. “And was it
you, miss, that didn’t want to marry at
all, at all? And was it you that was so
sure that you and Mr. Howard could niver
be anything to each other? Faith, look
at the bright eyes and the blushing cheeks<span class="pagenum" id="Page_195">[195]</span>
of her! Sure, Tim, man, it carries me
back forty years, so it does!” With a
fond look she turned to the man beside
her.</p>

<p>“Thrue for you, Kathleen, darlint,” he
replied. “The top of the mornin’ to you,
ma’am, and may you live a million years
and have a hundred——”</p>

<p>“Arrah! Be still with your foolishness,
Tim. Sure, you make the young lady
blush.”</p>

<p>Meanwhile Jackson was explaining
matters to Howard. He had, he said,
circled round to the other side of the
village and lurked there for several
hours, waiting his chance. Then he had
slipped up on the deck and run directly
into Mother Joyce, who promptly whisked
him below. “Cap’n Forbes’s big snake
had got away, and he had gone after it,”
continued the policeman, “and——”</p>

<p>Howard held up his hand. “It won’t
get away again,” he interjected. “It
came here.”</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_196">[196]</span>“Here?”</p>

<p>Howard nodded. “Yes, it came here,”
he repeated. “Came here and attacked
me. It was a very intelligent snake—from
Forbes’s standpoint. It would
have killed me, beyond a doubt, but for
Miss Fair—but for my wife. She shot
it with your pistol, Jackson. But we
haven’t time to talk about it now,” he
concluded with some impatience. “Go on
with your story.”</p>

<p>Jackson, however, had little more to
tell. In Forbes’s absence, it seems, he
and the others had had no difficulty in
getting at the rifles and ammunition.
Further, under Mother Joyce’s direction,
he had broken open the captain’s private
storeroom and procured a compass, sextant,
and a chronometer, which Mother
Joyce had declared would enable them to
navigate a boat as soon as they found
one. “An’,” concluded Jackson, “I
think we’d better be findin’ it soon, for
Gallegher has gotten out a Gatling gun,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_197">[197]</span>
and is making every preparation to do
us up for fair.”</p>

<p>“I expected something of the sort,”
said Howard, nodding. “We shall be
ready to leave the Queen the moment we
have had breakfast. So, now, if you’ll
come below——”</p>

<p>At the breakfast-table Howard unfolded
his plan.</p>

<p>“None of us want to fight if we can
help it,” he declared. “We haven’t anything
to gain by it, and everything to lose.
And we don’t want to stay near here.
From all I can learn, Forbes has destroyed
all the boats within fifty miles or
so, and we must go at least that far away
to have any chance of finding one. Now,
what I propose is this: We will leave
now in a few minutes, but instead of going
north along the coast, which is what
Forbes will expect us to do, we will go
east straight into the pack, make a detour
around the village, and come back to the
coast to the south. By this means I think<span class="pagenum" id="Page_198">[198]</span>
we will outwit him, and can make our
preparations in peace. Without a compass,
I might have hesitated to go into
the depths of the pack, but since Mother
Joyce has brought us one, we can afford
to risk it. As there will probably be nothing
to eat there, we must take food and
water enough to carry us through. I have
already made up three bundles of these,
and it will take only a few moments to
prepare three more. Then we can be
off.”</p>

<p>Ten minutes later the party left the
Queen forever. Dorothy’s eyes were
streaming wet as she looked at the vessel
for the last time.</p>

<p>“Frank! Frank!” she murmured.
“We’ve been happy on her, after all.
Shall we be equally happy elsewhere? I—I
would be glad to stay here with you
if— Oh! I know it’s impossible, of course.
We must go back to the world and clear
your name. Yes, we will! We must! God
is good. I have confidence in His justice.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_199">[199]</span>
He would not have let me love you so
much if He didn’t mean to clear you.”</p>

<p>Hand in hand the two followed the
others, already well ahead, plunging
straight into the wreck-pack. Howard
drew a long breath when they were well
away without having seen any sign of
Forbes or his companions. Unfortunately,
though he saw no one, he did not go
unseen. As the little party vanished
among the tangle of masts and sails, a
man rose from behind a deckhouse, where
he had been lurking, and peered after it
till certain of its course, then he set off
for the village as fast as he could go.</p>
<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" />

<div class="chapter">
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_200">[200]</span>

<h2 class="nobreak">XVI</h2>
</div>

<p><span class="smcap">It</span> is one thing to lay a course even in
the open sea, and it is quite another to
follow it. Wind, waves, and currents often
drive a vessel from the way she wishes
to go; and all of these had acted on the
wreck-path, seemingly conspiring to
make difficult the line of progress that
Howard had mapped out. Again and
again he had to make long detours to pass
some insurmountable wreck that lay
across his path, and finally he had to turn
aside from it altogether to skirt a narrow
but impassable channel of weed-grown
water that corkscrewed unexpectedly
across his path.</p>

<p>“It’s that hurricane we had a month
agone,” explained Joyce. “It isn’t often
they come here, but when they do, faith
it’s the foine mix-up they make! I moind
one of thim ten years agone! It split<span class="pagenum" id="Page_201">[201]</span>
the pack for miles back, and filled the
hole up again with wrecks that would
have made the fortune of a dime-museum
man, so they would. The most of them
were fair rotten with age, and sank as
soon as they began to rub up against the
strong new ships. The last storm wasn’t
so bad, and, belike, it only split the pack
here and there.”</p>

<p>Howard nodded. The explanation
seemed very probable, as in no other way
could he account for the open channel in
the midst of the vessel-wrecks. Mere mutual
attraction ought to have closed it
up years before. It made him anxious,
for the channel had already led him a
mile deeper into the pack than he had
intended to go, and still showed no signs
of ending.</p>

<p>It might go on even to the heart of the
wreckage, where lay the ancient ships on
which all food had rotted away centuries
before. If a former storm had opened up
a channel that far, so might a later one.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_202">[202]</span>That the cases were parallel was soon
exhibited with startling proof. For some
moments Howard had been noticing a
great grey hull, banded with tarnished
gold, that loomed across the pack two or
three ships ahead. As he drew nearer,
he saw, with wonder, its strange architecture.
Huge, round-bellied, with castle-like
structures reared at stem and stern,
it rose about the other wrecks, tier above
tier, with lines of frowning ports from
which protruded the mouths of old fashioned
cannon. No such ship had sailed
the ocean for years—not since the days
when Spain was in her glory and her rich
fleets bore the riches of America to fill
her already overflowing coffers. It must
have lain screened in the heart of the
ship-continent for at least two centuries,
to be at last spewed forth in time to meet
the curious gaze of an alien race.</p>

<p>From the topgallant poop of a modern
sailing-ship, Howard studied it curiously,
while behind him the rest of the party
looked on with amazement.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_203">[203]</span>“Sure, and that’s the very spirit and
image of them I was spakin’ about,” remarked
Joyce, triumphantly. “An’ what
sort of a ship do you suppose she is,
sor?”</p>

<p>“She’s a Spanish galleon, beyond
doubt,” rejoined Howard. “She’s the
very type of those old treasure-ships.
And there are more of the same kind behind
her. Look!”</p>

<p>Along the open channel, far away to
the sunset, stretched a file of ancient vessels,
now in single file, now in double.
Not all were galleons, but all plainly belonged
to dead and gone ages. While the
others of their kind had long ago perished
from human sight, here, in this lost corner
of the world, these had lingered on, slowly
decaying, like the once mighty nation
that sent them forth. Howard stared at
them in wondering amaze.</p>

<p>But Joyce recalled him to himself.
“Did you say treasure, sor?” he insinuated.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_204">[204]</span>Howard laughed. “Oh, yes,” he answered,
indifferently. “She’s a treasure-ship,
all right, though that isn’t to say
that she has treasure aboard. Still, it’s
not unlikely. There may be a million
apiece for all of us on her—if we could
only carry it away. Hold on! Where
are you going?”</p>

<p>Joyce was already climbing through
one of the open ports of the galleon, but
at Howard’s call he paused. “Sure, an’
I’m going to look after that million,” he
returned, defiantly.</p>

<p>Howard hesitated. Then he noticed a
restless movement of the missionary and
eager glances by the two women and
laughed. “Go ahead and look for it,” he
said. “But be careful. Remember the
ship must be rotten through and through;
I doubt whether her decks will bear your
weight.”</p>

<p>Joyce disappeared, but a moment later
stuck his head out of the port again.
“She’s better nor she looks, sor,” he<span class="pagenum" id="Page_205">[205]</span>
averred. “The planks are rotten, but I
think they’ll hold. Perhaps your good
lady would like to come aboard.”</p>

<p>Howard glanced at Dorothy.</p>

<p>“His good lady certainly would,” she
smiled back. A moment later all stood
on one of the galleon’s many decks.</p>

<p>Joyce was right. The deck, though
rotted, seemed to be reasonably sound,
and the stairway leading upward did not
give way when Jackson mounted it. As
he was the heaviest in the party, the rest
felt safe in following him.</p>

<p>Once on the upper deck, the cause of
the ship’s plight was evident. All about
her, tumbled in inextricable confusion,
lay the bones of men mingled with the
rust-eaten remains of guns and pikes and
sabres. In some places, doubtless where
the nameless fight had raged most fiercely,
the skeletons were heaped high upon
each other. Flesh and clothing alike had
long since disappeared, but parts of belts
and buckles and fragments of the tinsel<span class="pagenum" id="Page_206">[206]</span>
of war remained to tell of the bitterness
of the fight.</p>

<p>“Probably the work of buccaneers,”
explained Howard. “They did not hesitate
to attack ten times their number, and
often won by the very fury of their assault.
Evidently they did this time.
Joyce, I’m afraid your million went to
make a pirate holiday centuries ago.”</p>

<p>“Bad cess to thim, whoiver they were.
But where would it be, sor, if it was on
board?”</p>

<p>“I really don’t know. And yet—the
hold under the captain’s cabin, aft there,
would be a likely place. Suppose you
look there.”</p>

<p>Joyce and Jackson hurried away, and
soon the sound of dull hammering and
the tear of rending wood came to the ears
of the others, followed a moment later
by a series of triumphant yells. Then
Joyce appeared, fairly mad with excitement.</p>

<p>“Hurroush! Hurroush!” he screamed.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_207">[207]</span>
“We’ve found it! We’ve found it! Tons
and tons of solid gold! Kathleen, <i>mavourneen</i>,
we’re rich—we’re rich! We’ll
go back to Galway and buy the little place
beyant the hill, and——”</p>

<p>“Whist! Whist! Tim, man! An’ will
you first be tellin’ me how you’re going
to get yerself away, let alone your tons
of gold?”</p>

<p>So absorbed was the party in the discovery
of the gold that they forgot everything
else—the danger from Forbes, the
utter uselessness of the treasure, the
necessity of crossing the channel and
making their way to the southern coast.
Even Dorothy, used to wealth as she was,
caught the infection, and babbled away as
excitedly as a child.</p>

<p>Howard was the first to recover his
poise and to plan for the future. It was,
he knew, utterly hopeless to try to tear
Joyce and Jackson, or even the missionary
away from the galleon until their excitement
had spent itself. Indeed, he<span class="pagenum" id="Page_208">[208]</span>
himself felt positively ill at thought of
abandoning the gold, unavoidable as such
action undoubtedly was. By rough calculation,
he estimated that there were
twelve tons of the treasure, worth about
six million dollars, under their very feet,
free for them to carry away, and yet as
utterly unavailable as so much sand. Indeed,
in so far as unwillingness to leave
it should delay movements of the party,
it was a positive detriment.</p>

<p>He turned and looked at the others.
Joyce, Jackson, the missionary, and even
Mother Joyce, were working as they had
never worked before, taking from the
hold the golden bars, each a load for a
strong man, and staggering on deck
with them in their arms. In vain, Howard
tried to check them; they only
glared at him, cursed, and hurried back
for another load. Joyce and his wife,
too old for such labor, soon had to give
way, crying like children as they did so;
but the others toiled on, hot, black with
the grime of ages, half ill from the smells<span class="pagenum" id="Page_209">[209]</span>
of the shut, musty hold. Their muscles
cracked; their backs ached; the sweat
streamed down their faces, but still they
kept on.</p>

<p>Sick at heart, Howard turned from the
scene and wandered to the side of the
galleon, where he stood, looking east,
hoping the end of the zigzag channel
might be somewhere in sight. In vain!
As far as his eyes could serve, it stretched
away.</p>

<p>Disappointed, his glance dropped to
the open water of the channel close at
hand, and he stood transfixed. Close beside
the galleon, moored strongly fore
and aft, lay a slender, queer-shaped boat
about sixty feet long. It needed not the
trained knowledge of the naval officer to
tell that it was a submarine.</p>

<p>Intensely modern in its lines, it was as
much out of place in that ancient company
as would be a rifle in the hands of
Cæsar’s legionaries. Howard’s mouth
fairly dropped open as he gazed at it.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_210">[210]</span>But in a moment understanding came.
This was the means of escape that Forbes
had spoken of: safe, quick, and easy for
one with the necessary technical knowledge;
the gold on the galleon was part
of the fortune that he wanted to get home
in safety. No wonder he had been eager
to enlist Howard’s aid; and he could have
had it—had it all, if he had not presumed
on his power to grasp the girl, too! Now
he would lose all.</p>

<p>Dorothy had tired of the gold and was
standing on the deck, looking wonderingly
around. Howard called her, and together
they descended to the lower deck
of the galleon, and, slipping out through
a port opposite to that by which they had
entered, stepped easily out upon the deck
of the submarine, which floated high in
the water. With trembling fingers, Howard
pushed back the bolts that held the
manhole cover in place, lifted it off, and
peered into the darkness of the interior.
“I’ll be back in a moment,” he promised,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_211">[211]</span>
glancing up at Dorothy as he swung himself
downward.</p>

<p>Soon he was back again with radiant
features. “She’s in perfect condition, so
far as I can tell without starting the engines,”
he announced, “and I guess they
are all right. She’s almost the latest type
in submarines—gas-engine for running at
the surface, and an electric motor for
use below. Her oil-tanks are full, and
she has an extra supply in glass jars and
plenty of other necessary stores. Unless
there’s something wrong about her that
I can’t see, she’ll get us all to land without
the least difficulty.”</p>

<p>“Where did she come from?”</p>

<p>“Straight from heaven, I guess. At
least, I can’t imagine how else she got
into the sea. No, stop! I believe— Yes,
by George, that’s it. Maybe you remember
that a Spanish cruiser was lost at sea
two or three years ago—disappeared in
a big storm and was never heard of
again? If I remember rightly, she had<span class="pagenum" id="Page_212">[212]</span>
a submarine on board. This may be it.
Yes! See! Here’s its name—Tiburon;
that’s Spanish for Seashark. That
cruiser must have drifted in here with
it on board.”</p>

<p>“But where is she? How did this boat
get here—to this very place?”</p>

<p>“I don’t know, but I can guess. Forbes
must have brought it here. He threw out
hints about such a boat the first time I
talked with him. Yes, he must have
brought it here. How he managed it I
don’t know, and I don’t much care. The
boat is ours now by that same law of salvage
by which he claimed the Queen and
her contents. What’s sauce for the goose
will do for the gander. But think how
marvellous it is that we should have come
here, straight as a homingbird—to here!
the exact place where he had left his gold
and his boat. And, yet, after all, it is
not quite so marvellous as it seems, since
he could hardly have kept her anywhere
except up this channel, and we have been
following the line of it for miles.”</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_213">[213]</span>“Can we get away on her?”</p>

<p>“Certainly! All of us, and more, too,
if necessary.”</p>

<p>“But how will we get through the
weed?”</p>

<p>“We won’t go through it. We’ll go
under it. The weed isn’t thick, you know—only
a few feet at most; it grows on
top of the water, which is two miles deep
here, and we’ll simply dive under it.”</p>

<p>Dorothy shuddered. “Go under the
water, you mean?” she questioned. “Oh!
Frank, is it safe?”</p>

<p>“Safe? Surely! I have been down
many a time in boats much like this. Of
course—I won’t deceive you—accidents
are always possible, but there is really
little risk, if the machinery works well.
And we can’t tell about that till we try.
Don’t be afraid, dear. God has been too
good to us to let it all come to naught
now.”</p>

<p>“I’m not afraid, Frank. I’m not afraid
anywhere with you, my king of men.”</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_214">[214]</span>Howard had something to say to this,
but it is scarcely worth setting down;
lovers’ confidences seldom are. By and
by he started up. “I’m afraid we’re as
mad one way as those people on the galleon
are in another,” he smiled. “I’m
wasting valuable time that should be used
in getting you out of this before Forbes
finds us. He’s sure to be looking up this
place very soon.”</p>

<p>A thought struck Dorothy. “Oh, those
poor people!” she exclaimed. “Can’t you
take some of their gold for them, Frank?
A little money will mean so much to the
Joyces. They are too old to go to work
again, and——”</p>

<p>“It would come in rather handy with
me, too. But I don’t see— By George!
Yes, I think I do! Let’s look.” He dived
down again into the body of the submarine
and soon reappeared, his face
radiant.</p>

<p>“There is about five tons of detachable
lead ballast in the bottom,” he cried,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_215">[215]</span>
joyously. “We can take it out, and put
gold in its place—two million dollars’
worth. If you will wait here. I’ll go and
tell the others. Maybe they are tired enough
to listen to reason now.”</p>

<p>They were! Howard found them all
sitting glumly on the deck of the galleon,
glaring despairingly at the great pile of
gold bars they had extracted from the
hold. One by one they had dropped their
loads and sank down where they stood,
when, with increasing weariness, the situation
had at last dawned upon them.
When Howard approached, they did not
heed him further than to cast savage
glances in his direction. Then they returned
to contemplation of the gold.</p>

<p>Howard understood the situation without
words. “You oughtn’t to have
worked so hard,” he observed, in a matter-of-fact
tone. “You, especially, Joyce.
And you, Mrs. Joyce. You’ll feel this
to-morrow. But now that you have gotten
all the gold up here, I’m glad to tell<span class="pagenum" id="Page_216">[216]</span>
you that I’ve got a boat outside that will
carry us, and just about this much gold
besides—say a third of a million for each
of us. The rest, I’m afraid, we’ll have
to abandon.”</p>

<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/i_216.jpg" alt="" /></div>
<p class="caption">IT TOOK ONLY ABOUT TWO HOURS TO DUMP THE LEAD OUT OF<br />
THE SUBMARINE AND REPLACE IT WITH THE GOLD.</p>

<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" />

<div class="chapter">
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_217">[217]</span>

<h2 class="nobreak">XVII</h2>
</div>

<p><span class="smcap">Five</span> tons of gold, worth about three
million dollars, is not near so hard to
move as five tons of coal, for instance,
especially when it is put in seventy-five
pound bars and there is plenty of tackle
handy. It took Jackson, Joyce, and Willoughby
only about two hours to dump
the lead out of the submarine and replace
it with the gold—surely the richest ballast
the world ever saw.</p>

<p>Meanwhile Howard, after stationing
Dorothy and Mother Joyce in elevated
positions where they could watch for the
possible approach of Forbes and his men,
had set to work to get the submarine into
order, oiling the machinery, testing the
engines and all the various pumps and
motors, and finally starting the gas-engine,
which discharged the double duty
of driving the boat while on the surface,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_218">[218]</span>
and of charging the electric accumulators
for use below. All this took time,
and was not finished until after the last
bar of gold had been stored away in
place.</p>

<p>Then Howard called the others around
him. “Before we start,” he said, “I
have something to tell you. Until now
I have kept it to myself, because I did
not want to rouse any false hopes. Joyce,
did you ever hear of wireless telegraphy?”</p>

<p>Joyce scratched his head. “And what’s
that, sor?” he demanded.</p>

<p>“Telegraphy without the aid of wires.
I didn’t suppose any of you here had ever
heard of it, else Captain Forbes would
certainly not have shut me in the operating-room
of a steamer that had a full
outfit in perfect working order. During
the time I was confined there I was in
constant communication with the naval
station at Guantanamo. I told them of
our plight, and I will venture to say that<span class="pagenum" id="Page_219">[219]</span>
the papers of the country are ringing
with the story of the Sargasso Sea colony
and with our personal adventures. Toward
the end—just before Joyce set me
free—I got into communication with your
father, Dorothy. He was wild with delight
to know that you were alive and
was about to start to rescue you. In
fact, half a dozen vessels are probably
now making an effort to break a way
through the weed to aid us. If we can
get back to the coast and wait, we are
tolerably sure to be taken off sooner or
later. Now, the question is whether we
shall wait or not?”</p>

<p>Joyce and his wife had listened in
dazed silence. “Do you mane, sor,” demanded
the former, “that you can talk
through the air with those quare instruments
in that little room?”</p>

<p>“That’s it exactly, Joyce. I can, and
I did. But let me get back to the point.
I could give our friends only a very
doubtful approximation of our latitude<span class="pagenum" id="Page_220">[220]</span>
and longitude, so that it may take them a
long time to find us, if they ever do. Not
hearing further from us, they may conclude
that the whole thing is a fake and
give up the search. They will certainly
have a long and tedious battle with the
weed. Altogether, if they get anywhere
near the right spot in less than a month
it will be most surprising. Certainly
they will not in less than two weeks. Now,
what can we do during the interval? If
we decide to wait for them, we must run
down the coast and establish a camp
somewhere—as far from the village as
we can get. Perhaps I can find another
wireless outfit and get into communication
with Guantanamo again. Certainly,
we can find food and shelter, and all we
will have to do will be to wait—supposing
that Forbes doesn’t find us, which he
will move heaven and earth to do when
he finds we have his gold and his boat.</p>

<p>“That is one alternative open to us.
The other, of course, is to dive under<span class="pagenum" id="Page_221">[221]</span>
the weed and start for home at once. If
we meet one of the searching steamers,
all right; if we don’t, we can get to port
under our own power. There is a risk
about such an attempt, of course, but I
don’t think it’s a very great one. Now,
this is the situation: what shall we do?”</p>

<p>Howard paused, and the others looked
at each other doubtfully. Finally, Mr.
Willoughby cleared his throat. “I confess,”
he observed hesitatingly, “that I
fear the depths of the sea. I should much
prefer to remain on top of it and go home
in a steamer. May we not run down
this—er—river on the surface and talk
it over as we go?”</p>

<p>“Surely. That’s good sense. We’ll do
it. Joyce, suppose you run up on the
galleon and take a last look for Captain
Forbes. Meanwhile, everybody else get
aboard. Hurry, Joyce!”</p>

<p>Joyce hurried. In five minutes he came
racing back as fast as his legs would
carry him. “The cap’n’s comin’,” he<span class="pagenum" id="Page_222">[222]</span>
cried. “Coming with his whole force.
He isn’t three ships away.”</p>

<p>Howard smiled grimly. “Just too
late,” he exclaimed. “On board with
you, Joyce! Quick! Off we go!” With
the word, he cast loose the last mooring,
and the Seashark moved slowly away.</p>

<p>As, with gathering headway she
rounded the galleon’s high-decked poop,
she came in view of a dozen or more
armed men, who were rapidly clambering
over the wrecks, and who burst into
excited babble as they spied the little vessel.
An instant later Forbes appeared.</p>

<p>“Curse you!” he shrieked. “I’ll get
you yet.” He threw his rifle to his
shoulder and fired, his men following suit
with a scattering volley.</p>

<p>But at the first sign of hostilities,
Howard, who was alone on deck, dropped
nimbly down inside the body of the Seashark,
and remained, steering by aid of
the camera lucida put there for the purpose,
until a curve in the channel sheltered<span class="pagenum" id="Page_223">[223]</span>
the little vessel from the bullets
that had pattered harmlessly around her.</p>

<p>For an hour the Seashark dropped
swiftly down the slowly widening channel
between ever-changing banks of massed
ships. In that hour she passed in review
the shipping of more than two centuries.
Squat-bellied, round-bowed Dutchmen,
high-pooped Spaniards, clippers that had
made the American flag famous, frigates
shot-torn and shattered in the American
Civil War, deep-water ships still bearing
the indelible imprint of the Chinese trade,
steamers old and new—one by one they
passed in a progression constantly growing
more and more modern. Howard,
alone in the conning-tower, glanced at
them with wonder; never before had they
so impressed him. Until then, nearness
had obscured the vastness of the ruin,
and only now had the full meaning of it
all been hammered into his mind.</p>

<p>But he resolutely threw off the spell,
and concentrated his entire attention on<span class="pagenum" id="Page_224">[224]</span>
the navigation of his little vessel. It was
very necessary. The channel, being newly
formed, was reasonably clear of weed,
but it was impossible to guess how soon
its character might change. The smallest
patch of vegetation might foul the screw
of the Seashark, or might conceal a
water-logged spar, floating just awash,
that would rip a plate from her bow and
send her to the bottom, ending at once
the lives of the castaways and their
dreams of fortune. In some ways it
would be safer beneath the water; yet
Howard knew that every turn of the gas-engines
was aiding to store up power in
the electric accumulators, on which alone
they must depend when the time came to
dive. He did not dare to go below an instant
sooner than he must.</p>

<p>After an hour the channel opened more
rapidly, and the weed began to thicken,
showing that the edge of the wreck-pack
was near. Soon the accumulation grew
so thick that it was no longer safe to push<span class="pagenum" id="Page_225">[225]</span>
through it. Howard glanced at the indicators
that measured the power accumulated.
“Enough to run us three and
a half hours,” he murmured, “or perhaps
four. At eight knots, that means about
twenty-five miles of distance. Twenty-five
miles! Humph! I guess it’s safe.”</p>

<p>He brought the boat to a stop, and
spoke to those in the semi-darkness below.</p>

<p>“Well,” he queried, “have you decided?
Is it go ahead, or land and wait?”</p>

<p>No one answered, and in the stillness
he heard up-channel the far-off chug-chug
of a boat rapidly driven. “Humph!” he
exclaimed, bending down again. “Forbes
seems to have been well supplied with
boats. He’s after us in a steam-launch.
That settles the question definitely.
We’ve got to dive. If any one wants to
take a last look at this marvellous place,
now is the time.”</p>

<p>No one spoke.</p>

<p>Howard laughed. “What!” he exclaimed.
“Nobody? Joyce, don’t you<span class="pagenum" id="Page_226">[226]</span>
want to see the last of your old home?”</p>

<p>Joyce shook his head. “Faith,” he
answered, “I’ve seen enough of it to do
me for the rest of my life.”</p>

<p>“Jackson?”</p>

<p>“New York’s good enough for me.”</p>

<p>“Mr. Willoughby?”</p>

<p>The missionary looked up. “Man!
Man!” he cried. “How can you think
of such things when we are about to
plunge into uttermost peril of our lives?
Rather, let us pray.”</p>

<p>“Pray by all means, Mr. Willoughby.
More things are wrought by prayer than
this world dreams of, you know. Dorothy,
don’t you want to look?”</p>

<p>But Dorothy, too, shook her head. “No,
Frank,” she answered. “I never want
to see the horrible place again.”</p>

<p>“Then down we go. Here comes
Forbes, by the way.”</p>

<p>Around a curve, up-channel, appeared
a steam-launch, still far off, but rapidly
approaching. Howard stood up and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_227">[227]</span>
waved his hand sarcastically; then, with
rapid motions, snapped on the manhole
cover, cut off the gas-engine, and threw
on the electric starting-lever. Then, as
the little vessel started forward, he turned
the diving-rudder downward.</p>

<p>Instantly the Seashark slid gracefully
down beneath the ripples. From her
little turret sprang out a sword of white
light that pierced the water before her,
while within a score of tiny bulbs illumined
the darkness. Down she went;
down, down, till the gage at Howard’s
hand showed that a depth of fifty feet
had been attained; then slowly he shifted
the diving rudders until the boat held
steadily to her depth, the rudders just
balancing her tendency to rise to the surface.
“All set,” he called down cheerily,
but without moving his gaze from the
front. “Nothing to do now but go ahead.
Make yourselves comfortable. We won’t
come to the surface for three hours, and
perhaps longer.”</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_228">[228]</span>No one answered. The experience, utterly
new to them all, was sufficiently
terrifying to destroy the desire for conversation.
Shut up in this tiny shell
which might any moment prove their
tomb, fifty feet below the surface of the
ocean, driving forward blindly into the
unknown, it would have taken one braver—or
more callous—than any there to
make merry. Howard, used as he was
to submarine work, might have cheered
them up, had he not been compelled to
give all his attention to driving the vessel.</p>

<p>For the dangers, though not what the
rest vaguely conceived, were by no
means imaginary. Let the Seashark rise
a few feet above the level at which she
ran, and she might easily smash herself
against a more than ordinarily deeply
sunken wreck. Let her plunge too deeply,
and the increased pressure of the
water might force its way in at some
weak spot, and crush her like an egg-shell.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_229">[229]</span>
Let her power give out too soon,
at a spot where she could not come to
the surface to run her gas-engine, and
so replenish her accumulators, and they
would all perish miserably. On Howard
rested all the responsibility, and he had
no time to give to anything else.</p>
<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" />

<div class="chapter">
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_230">[230]</span>

<h2 class="nobreak">XVIII</h2>
</div>

<p><span class="smcap">One</span>, two, three hours slid by, and, at
last, Howard, his eyes fixed on the gage of
the accumulators, saw that the power was
getting low, and began to watch anxiously
for some gleam of light that, striking
down through the water, might show a
break in the mantle of weed overhead. In
vain! Everywhere blackness ruled. Several
times he slowed down and turned off
the headlight, hoping that, with its effulgence
removed, he might see the longed-for
gap. After each attempt he went
back to driving the Seashark along at
her maximum eight miles an hour.</p>

<p>This could not last forever. Rapidly
his anxiety grew. The Seashark had
been beneath the water for four hours,
and his accumulators were nearly bare.
To try to break through the weed was
dangerous, but not more so than to remain<span class="pagenum" id="Page_231">[231]</span>
below until all the power was gone.
At all risks they must reach the surface.</p>

<p>For a scant ten minutes longer Howard
held on, now very close beneath the
mantle of weed, then stopped altogether,
and waited for the reserve buoyancy of
the Seashark to carry her upward.</p>

<p>Slowly she rose again, and then into
the weed. Howard could see its slimy
fronds through the thick glass of the conning-tower.
Slowly and more slowly it
seemed to brush downward as the Seashark
worked herself upward. Slowly
and more slowly until all motion ceased,
leaving the vessel still far below the surface.</p>

<p>With a shrug of his shoulders, Howard
pulled a lever, and in quick response
came the throb of the pumps beneath him
as with powerful strokes they drove out
the water-ballast and made the Seashark
lighter.</p>

<p>Under this new impulse she rose once
more, little by little, until at last the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_232">[232]</span>
pumps sucked dry and motion ceased
once more. Howard, peering upward,
saw the light faintly gleaming through
the interstices of the weed. The surface
could be scarcely a yard overhead.</p>

<p>“Only a yard.” Howard muttered the
words bitterly. “Only a yard! Might as
well be a thousand!” Gently he started
the propeller; half a dozen revolutions he
knew would hopelessly foul it; but little
difference that would make if the Seashark
could work her way upward by its
aid. Now forward, now backward he
drove it, with his heart in his mouth.</p>

<p>Not for long, for the drag on the shaft
soon warned him that to go on would
shatter the machinery and, even if they
reached the surface, leave them helpless
far within the bounds of the weedy sea.
With a sudden impulse he stopped the
engine, and waited to see whether time
might not do what machinery had failed
to accomplish.</p>

<p>Half an hour passed, and the same<span class="pagenum" id="Page_233">[233]</span>
frond of weed that had lain across his
view at its beginning still held its place.
The Seashark was stationary.</p>

<p>One desperate recourse remained, and
Howard prepared to take it. He swung
down into the cabin where sat the rest of
the party forlornly waiting. Long before
they had realized that something
was desperately wrong; but none of
them, except perhaps the missionary,
were of the weak-kneed type, and none
had moved to question Howard, even during
the age-long interval when he had sat
in silence.</p>

<p>Howard looked at them one by one, his
eyes lingering fondly on Dorothy’s
flower-like face. “Friends all,” he said,
quietly, “our situation is most serious.
I knew when we dived that in about four
hours we must come to the surface to run
our gas-engine and recharge our electric
batteries. I hoped and believed that in
four hours we would come to a place
where there were breaks in the weed, or<span class="pagenum" id="Page_234">[234]</span>
where it was so thin that we could rise
through it. Neither has turned out to be
true. There are no breaks, and the weed
is so thick that it holds us down. I have
expelled all the water-ballast, and the
Seashark is now very buoyant; yet it
cannot rise to the surface. We are
scarcely a foot below it, but we can rise
no higher.</p>

<p>“The explanation is evident. The Seashark
is nearly fifty feet long. Probably
she intercepted a score of cables of weed
as she rose. No doubt there is now a
whaleback of sargassum standing above
the water just over her. Its weight must
be very great—too great for even our increased
buoyancy to lift farther; while
the cables across us prevent the weed
from slipping off. The only way to get
to the surface—that is to say, the only
way to save all our lives, is to cut away
the cables that hold us down.”</p>

<p>Howard ceased speaking, but no one
moved. With the failing power, the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_235">[235]</span>
electric lights had grown perceptibly dimmer,
and the <i>voyageurs</i> could barely see
each other’s faces. Soon, it was evident,
the lights would go out altogether.</p>

<p>“Obviously,” Howard resumed, “we
cannot cut the cables from inside the
ship. They can only be reached from the
outside by some one who will leave the
boat.</p>

<p>“Fortunately, this last is not difficult.
On the open sea it is even easy. The
Seashark is a torpedo boat, fitted to discharge
torpedoes under water. Time and
again the crew of an injured submarine
have escaped—all but one—by getting into
the torpedo tube and being fired out
by a moderate charge of compressed air.
Here in the weed it will be more difficult,
of course, but not especially dangerous.
So”—the speaker paused and looked
around him—“so if one of you will come
and touch me off, I’ll see what I can do
toward cutting those confounded cables.”</p>

<p>As Howard’s voice died away, the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_236">[236]</span>
electric lights went suddenly out, and a
gasp of sheer horror ran through the tiny
cabin. For a moment no one spoke; then
Dorothy groped her way through the
blackness to Howard’s side.</p>

<p>“Not you! not you, my husband!” she
murmured. “Not you. Let me go.”</p>

<p>Howard laughed gently as he caressed
the unseen face. “Not likely, dear,” he
answered.</p>

<p>The strident voice of the missionary
broke through the gloom. “And if you
are drowned in the attempt, what will
the rest of us do?” he demanded.</p>

<p>“If I fail, another must try. But I
won’t fail.”</p>

<p>“Even if that other succeed, what good
will it do us? No one but you can run
this boat, and we would only exchange
death down here for death on the surface.
No, Mr. Howard, you must not go. I
will go.”</p>

<p>“You.”</p>

<p>“Yes! I.” If the missionary smiled<span class="pagenum" id="Page_237">[237]</span>
bitterly, no one saw it in the darkness.
“Oh! I know you all think I am a coward,
and perhaps I am. Certainly, I
did not dare to oppose Captain Forbes,
nor to—— But never mind. I can swim
like a fish almost. It is my one manly
accomplishment. I can get through the
weed if any man can—and if I fail, you
will have lost nothing. Come! show me
what to do.”</p>

<p>Howard groped his way to the missionary,
and wrung his hand. “I beg
your pardon. Mr. Willoughby,” he said,
simply, “I misunderstood you. I accept
your offer. Come.”</p>

<p>“Wait a moment.” Dorothy’s soft
voice sounded. “I want to thank you,
Mr. Willoughby, and tell you that I never
thought hard of you about Captain
Forbes. He was a terrible man. Can—can
I do anything in—in case you don’t
come back?” Her voice trailed sobbingly
off.</p>

<p>“Nothing. I haven’t a chick or a child<span class="pagenum" id="Page_238">[238]</span>
in the world, and—God bless you, my
dear.” With a last pressure of her hand
he turned away. “Come, Mr. Howard,”
he commanded.</p>

<p>In Cimmerian gloom the two men felt
their way to the torpedo port. “Better
take off all your clothes,” counselled Howard.
“The least thing may serve to hold
you in the weed. Strap this knife tightly
to your arm so you will be sure not to
lose it. Carry this smaller one between
your teeth. Don’t lose your head; if you
get entangled, keep cool and cut yourself
free. When you get to the surface look
for the lump of weed above us; it will be
conspicuous enough. Cut first at one end
of the boat, and then at the other, so that
we can rise on an even keel. Now, if you
are ready, climb in head-first.”</p>

<hr class="tb" />

<p>The ten minutes that elapsed after
Howard had “fired off” the missionary
were the longest that any of the party had
ever known. Beneath the water, beneath<span class="pagenum" id="Page_239">[239]</span>
the weed, in darkness so intense that it
positively weighed, each waited in silence
the results of the venture on which, in all
human probability, depended his or her
chance for life. For if Mr. Willoughby,
comparatively small, agile, and a good
swimmer, could not get through the interlacing
weed, the chances were that
none of the others could do so.</p>

<p>Bearing Mr. Willoughby’s clothes,
Howard had groped his way back to the
conning-tower, and to Dorothy’s side, and
had found her on her knees. “Oh!
Frank! Frank!” she sobbed. “Let us
pray for him. Frank! Frank!” Howard
sank beside her, and no more fervent
petition than his was ever wafted to the
throne of grace.</p>

<p>Slowly the minutes ticked themselves
away. Then, just as hope seemed gone,
the Seashark gave a sudden lurch, and a
gasp of relief arose. It required no expert
to tell her passengers that something
was happening above the water—a something
that could have but one cause.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_240">[240]</span>Howard explained it: “Mr. Willoughby
has cut one of the cables that are holding
us down—there goes another—and
another.” A faint light showed through
the grass-filled peep-holes of the conning-tower;
promise of the glorious burst to
come. “We are rising. We are tearing
free.”</p>

<p>Rapidly the light grew, until a tiny
beam from the westering sun shot
straight through a window, and danced
gaily about as the Seashark rocked to
and fro on the smooth surface. At sight
of it the women sobbed aloud. What the
men did in the darkness can only be
guessed.</p>

<p>Rapidly Howard threw back the cover
of the manhole, and let the blessed air of
heaven in. Instantly Mr. Willoughby’s
head appeared. “Have you got my
clothes there?” he demanded in a stage
whisper.</p>

<p>With a snicker of relief, Howard
passed up the clothes and, when the missionary<span class="pagenum" id="Page_241">[241]</span>
was properly arrayed, called all
the rest to come on deck.</p>

<p>The Seashark was floating in the familiar
ocean of weed. No open water was
in sight; if any was near it was not visible
from a point so low in the water.
Wreckage floated here and there; not a
hundred yards away was the hulk of a
dismasted water-logged lumber schooner,
and a little farther off were the tangled
spars of a huge ship.</p>

<p>Howard looked around him and shook
his head. “It’s farther to clear water
than I had thought,” he told Dorothy.
“Not that it matters. We’ll be out to-morrow
morning.” He turned to the
rest. “Joyce! if you and Jackson will
cut away the weed from around our propeller,
I’ll do the rest. Mr. Willoughby
will give you his knives. By the way,
don’t lay them down on the water, or
they’ll be a mile or so deep when we
want them again.”</p>

<p>Joyce turned to Willoughby, who<span class="pagenum" id="Page_242">[242]</span>
blushed. “I—I’m afraid that’s just what
I did do, Mr. Howard,” he explained, confusedly.
“Anyway, I’ve lost one of the
two you gave me.”</p>

<p>“No matter, sir, I’ve got another,” interjected
Joyce, as he and Jackson turned
to their allotted task.</p>

<p>Left to himself, Howard threw the
screw-shaft out of connection, and turned
the full power of the gas-engine to recharging
the electric accumulators. When
all was running smoothly, he turned to
the rest.</p>

<p>“It will be several hours, at best, before
we can start, and I think, on the
whole, we had better not do so until toward
daylight, so as to be sure of plenty
of light when we come up again. If you
girls will get supper ready, we might as
well dine.”</p>

<p>Dinner—or supper—began light-heartedly
enough on the part of most of the
party. Civilization seemed very near,
and the spirits of the majority were high<span class="pagenum" id="Page_243">[243]</span>
accordingly. Only Howard, to whom rescue
meant something very different from
what it did to the others, and Dorothy,
who grieved in sympathy with him, were
silent and distrait. Toward the end of
the meal, Jackson, who had been unwontedly
talkative, suddenly awoke to the
realization that the time was rapidly approaching
when he must again become
the jailer of the man who had saved his
life and his happiness. Under this incubus
he suddenly shut up.</p>

<p>The other three did not understand
Howard’s situation. For some reason
Forbes, it seemed, had not told his information
(or suspicions), about the
naval officer, and his single reference to
them, at the time of the wedding, had
passed over the heads of both the Joyces
and of Mr. Willoughby. So they chattered
on light-heartedly enough, until the meal
was over, and Howard dismissed them to
sleep.</p>

<p>A little later that night, when all the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_244">[244]</span>
rest were sleeping, worn out by the excitement
and arduous labors of the day,
Dorothy slipped up on deck, where Howard
was watching the dials of his accumulators
as they slowly crept toward the
maximum.</p>

<p>There was no moon, but the phosphorescence
of the weed filled the air with
a weird witch-light, in which the Seashark
and floating wreckage bulked black.
So strong was the gleam that Howard
could see the dark circles under Dorothy’s
eyes as she sank down by his side.</p>

<p>“There, there! sweetheart,” he whispered,
gently. “You ought to be getting
your beauty sleep. We’ll probably be
picked up to-morrow, and you must look
your best.”</p>

<p>But Dorothy refused to heed the badinage.
“Oh! Frank, Frank,” she murmured,
miserably. “I don’t want to be
picked up. Can’t—can’t we put the rest
ashore somewhere, and slip away—just
you and I. When I think of what will<span class="pagenum" id="Page_245">[245]</span>
happen—— Oh, Frank, I can’t bear it!”</p>

<p>Howard drew her toward him, and
tilted up her face until he could look
down into her troubled eyes. “Don’t be
afraid, dear,” he murmured, “everything
is going to come out right. It will take
a little time perhaps, but it will all come
right in the end. The Providence that
has watched over us and brought us
through so much will not fail us now.”</p>

<p>“But—but—to have you in prison, even
for a day! Oh, Frank, I can’t bear it!
You have saved Mr. Jackson’s life, rescued
him, made him rich—surely he will
not be cruel enough to——”</p>

<p>“Hush! Hush! dear. Jackson must do
his duty. I wouldn’t have him fail in
it on my account for the world. Besides,
I must surrender in order to prove my
innocence. Before, I did not have the
money to send to Porto Rico for witnesses;
now I have. There must be plenty
of people down there who have seen the
real husband of that poor Dolores Montoro.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_246">[246]</span>
Money will bring them to New
York. Once they see me they will know
that I am not he—even though they may
have identified my photograph. I ran
away before only because I knew of no
other way to reach them. Now that I
have another way, I must take it.”</p>

<p>Dorothy was thoughtful for a moment.
Then she nodded slowly. “You are right,
Frank,” she murmured. “You always
are. It will break my heart, but—it is
the only way. I see that. It isn’t only
your liberty I want; your honor must be
cleared as well.”</p>

<p>“There’s my brave girl!”</p>

<p>Soon Dorothy spoke again. “Frank,”
she said, “tell me! How did you escape
from prison? I don’t understand.”</p>

<p>Howard hesitated. Then: “I can’t tell
you very much about it, dear. But this
I will say: An officer on my last ship—one,
too, for whom I am ashamed to say
I had never cared much—stood my friend
all through the trial, and at the end aided
me to get away. He——”</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_247">[247]</span>“It was Mr. Loving! I know it was
Mr. Loving!”</p>

<p>“Hush! Even the sea-weed has ears.
You must never say anything about it, or
it would get him into terrible trouble.
Yes, it was Loving. Do you know him?”</p>

<p>Dorothy twisted and untwisted her
fingers. “Yes,” she murmured, “I
know him. It—it was on his account that
I went to Porto Rico.”</p>

<p>“On his account?”</p>

<p>“Yes. He—he wanted to marry me,
and father wanted me to accept him, and
I couldn’t. I couldn’t! I knew you must
exist somewhere, Frank—you—the only
man in the world for me—and I ran away
from New York to avoid him. You are
not angry, are you, Frank?”</p>

<p>“Angry! At what? But I’m afraid
I’ve made a terrible botch of things;
saddled a convict husband on you, and
robbed my best friend of his bride.”</p>

<p>Dorothy raised her hand to his lips.
“Hush! dear,” she said. “I wouldn’t<span class="pagenum" id="Page_248">[248]</span>
exchange my husband for any man in
the wide world; and as for Mr. Loving—well,
he couldn’t be robbed of what he
never had, and never could have had.”</p>

<p>The note of the engines suddenly
changed, and Howard, bending over,
glanced at the accumulator dial. “The
battery is fully charged, dear,” he said,
as he shut off the engine. “And it is
certainly time to rest.”</p>
<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" />

<div class="chapter">
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_249">[249]</span>

<h2 class="nobreak">XIX</h2>
</div>

<p><span class="smcap">Long</span> before dawn Howard was astir.
Possessing in an eminent degree the not
very rare faculty of being able to awake
at any hour desired, he had set his mental
alarm-clock for four o’clock, and, in spite
of his fatigue, had awakened within fifteen
minutes of that time.</p>

<p>Without disturbing any of the others,
who lay stretched in more or less uneasy
postures on the comfortless floor of the
Seashark, he made his way first to the
conning-tower for a last examination of
the fixtures there; then to the deck, where
a brief inspection showed that the propeller
was still clear; and, at last, to the
pilot’s seat, where, taking his place, he
pulled the lever that let the water into
the ballast tanks.</p>

<p>Swiftly the tanks filled, and silently
and smoothly the Seashark sank down<span class="pagenum" id="Page_250">[250]</span>
through the water. For a time the weed
scraped against her sides, but soon this
ceased, and the electric beam showed only
black water before the tiny windows of
her conning-tower. When fifty feet
of depth was registered on the gage,
Howard turned on the power and, gathering
way, the Seashark drove along beneath
the sea.</p>

<p>Three hours later, when the weary
sleepers began to stir, he was still at
his post, tirelessly staring before him. As
the day waxed, a faint light, interspersed
with occasional stronger beams, filtered
down from above, giving token that the
canopy of weed had grown thin, and was
broken here and there by channels of
open water. Soon it would be safe to
go to the surface.</p>

<p>Suddenly, with terrifying swiftness,
came a sound and a shock that shook the
Seashark from stem to stern. Simultaneously
the black hull of a great ship
showed across the path, not a hundred<span class="pagenum" id="Page_251">[251]</span>
feet away. There was no time to stop;
no time to check the speed; scarcely time
to deflect the course. But quicker than
thought, quicker than lightning, automatically,
Howard’s trained brain and
hand met the danger.</p>

<p>The horizontal rudders sent the Seashark
diving down, down, down, in a
desperate endeavor to pass beneath the
obstruction—down till Howard saw clear
water in front of him.</p>

<p>Under the keel of the ship sped the Seashark,
still diving desperately. For one
agonizing instant she touched, scraped,
shrieked; then tore free.</p>

<p>But the danger was not passed; though,
with reversed rudders, the Seashark
strove to beat her way upward. A
glance at the dials showed that the depth
was increasing—not diminishing; a
glance behind showed that the black hull
was ominously close. The slant of the
Seashark grew steeper, steeper; almost
it stood on end. The rumble of falling<span class="pagenum" id="Page_252">[252]</span>
objects came from below, followed by
startled shrieks, as the sleepers, rudely
awakened, slid in a tangled heap to the
after-end of the boat. Howard clung
wildly to the steering-wheel to save himself
from being hurled down upon the
rest. As he clung, confused, not understanding,
the tiny vessel was shaken like
a rat in a dog’s jaws. Her machinery
began to tear loose from its bed. Mere
peas in a pod, her passengers tumbled
right and left as willed by the mighty
power that grasped them.</p>

<p>After turmoil peace. Howard pulled
his dazed wits together to the realization
that the Seashark was lying quiescent on
the surface of the water, though by no
means on an even keel. Her engines had
stopped, and her lights were out. Only
a faint glimmer through the windows of
the conning-tower illumined the scene of
wreckage around him. Wild with anxiety,
he lowered himself into the blackness
of the sleeping room, and called
Dorothy’s name.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_253">[253]</span>“Here I am, Frank,” came the answer.</p>

<p>Howard groped his way toward the
sound. “Are you hurt?” he asked in
trembling accents.</p>

<p>“No! I think not—certainly not seriously.”
The girl’s tones were broken,
but brave as ever.</p>

<p>“The rest of you? Is everybody alive?
Answer as I call. Joyce?”</p>

<p>“I’m alive, sor, and so is Kathleen.”</p>

<p>“Jackson?”</p>

<p>“Here.”</p>

<p>“Mr. Willoughby?”</p>

<p>“I, too, have escaped.”</p>

<p>Howard drew a long breath. “Thank
God! We seem to have our lives, at any
rate.”</p>

<p>“What was it, sor?”</p>

<p>“I’m not certain. But I think a wreck
must have chosen the very moment of
our passage to sink, and must have drawn
us down into her vortex. We escaped
at last, and are now at the surface. But
I fear our machinery is ruined. I’ll
open the manhole.”</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_254">[254]</span>Turning, Howard clambered back to his
perch, and tried to push back the bolts.
They were badly jammed, and it took him
some time to loosen them; but at last
they gave way, and he shoved back the
cover and thrust out his head.</p>

<p>The Seashark was rolling gently on
smooth weed-clear water. A quarter of
a mile away lay a white cruiser, and not
a hundred yards distant was a boat
rapidly approaching.</p>

<p>Howard rubbed his eyes. “Ahoy, the
boat,” he called.</p>

<p>The officer in charge gasped. “Way
enough,” he ordered. “Ahoy, the submarine.
Where in heaven did you come
from?”</p>

<p>“From mighty near the other place,”
answered Howard grimly. “Did you torpedo
that wreck?”</p>

<p>“That’s what we did. We’re destroying
derelicts, and hunting for a party of
castaways from the Queen. Do you know
anything about them?”</p>

<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/i_254.jpg" alt="" /></div>
<p class="caption">“THIS IS, OR, RATHER, WAS—MISS FAIRFAX,” HE EXPLAINED.<br />
“AND YOU——”</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_255">[255]</span>Howard nodded affirmatively in answer
to the officer’s question. “Yes,” he answered.
“We are the castaways—we and
three others who escaped with us in this
submarine from the little king of the Sargasso
Sea. I suppose you know the story
that I sent by wireless?”</p>

<p>The boat scraped along. “Know it! I
should say so,” exclaimed the startled
officer. “The whole country knows it. I
suppose you are——”</p>

<p>“Frank Howard. Come, Dorothy,”
Howard climbed to the deck, and helped
the girl to follow him. “This is, or,
rather, was—Miss Fairfax,” he explained.
“And you——”</p>

<p>The officer suppressed a whistle of
admiration at sight of Dorothy’s flower-like
face. “I’m McCully!” he answered,
as he stood up and took off his cap. “I
say! This is awfully lucky. Colonel
Fairfax will be wild with delight.”</p>

<p>“My father! Where is he?”</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_256">[256]</span>“On board the Duluth, yonder. The
navy department ordered us to look for
you, and he came along. There are a
dozen searching for you.”</p>

<p>Dorothy’s head swam. The month of
stress was over, and the revulsion of feeling
was too great not to affect her. Tears
started to her eyes as she turned to Howard.
“Oh! Frank!” she cried. “Father
is here.”</p>

<p>“Yes. He’s here, sure,” interjected
Mr. McCully, “and if you’ll get into this
boat we’ll take you to him in a jiffy.”</p>

<p>Dorothy looked at Howard inquiringly,
and he nodded. “Yes, you’d better go,”
he assented. “You and Mrs. Joyce and
Willoughby, perhaps. The rest of us
will stay here for the present. Mr. McCully,
will you kindly ask your captain
if he cannot come alongside us? The Seashark,
though damaged by your torpedo,
is still valuable, and, besides, we have
about two million dollars in gold bars on
board of her.”</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_257">[257]</span>The lieutenant looked his astonishment.
What manner of man was this who carried
two millions of gold about in a submarine.
“Two millions?” he gasped.</p>

<p>“Yes! We found an old Spanish galleon
with five or six millions on her, and
brought away all we could. Look!
There’s another boat coming. Is that
your father on her, Dorothy? And—why,
yes, it’s Loving, too, isn’t it? How
frightfully ill he is looking.”</p>

<p>Another boat was close at hand. Dorothy
looked at her, and clasped her hands
with excitement. “Oh! It is!” she cried.
“Father! Father! Don’t you know me?”</p>

<p>The gray-bearded civilian stood up.
“Dorothy! Dorothy!” he trumpeted. “Is
it you! Is it really you?”</p>

<p>“Yes! Yes!” As the boat touched the
Seashark, the girl fairly sprang into her
father’s arms. “Oh! father! father!”
she cried. “How good it is to see you.”</p>

<p>Meanwhile, Lieutenant McCully had
turned to Howard and the others, who<span class="pagenum" id="Page_258">[258]</span>
had now climbed up on the deck. “The
Duluth is moving,” he explained. “Captain
Morehouse probably intends to come
alongside without being asked. Hadn’t
you all better get into this boat, and let
my men fasten your manhole down? The
waves from the Duluth might swamp her,
you know.”</p>

<p>“Thank you. If you’ll be so kind. But
first let me present my fellow travelers.”</p>

<p>In a few moments the Seashark was
made safe against swamping, and her
former passengers were about to enter
the cutter, when Dorothy called to Howard:
“Frank, dear, I want you.”</p>

<p>Everybody started. Not one there was
ignorant of Howard’s record, and the
use of his Christian name by the girl was
somewhat surprising.</p>

<p>“Frank, dear!” cried the girl, alive
with excitement. “This is my father.
Father, this is Lieutenant Frank Howard,
who saved me from death and from
worse than death. See, I wear his ring.”</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_259">[259]</span>She held up her hand, and, at the sight
of the plain gold band, Colonel Fairfax’s
outstretched hand dropped heavily to his
side. “A wedding ring,” he gasped.</p>

<p>“Yes, father. I am not Dorothy Fairfax
any more. I am Dorothy Howard
now. Mr. Willoughby married us day before
yesterday.”</p>

<p>All Colonel Fairfax’s coolness; all the
aplomb that had made him a master of
men; all his traditional self-possession
dropped from him, and he stood stammering
like any schoolboy.</p>

<p>Dorothy’s eyes sparkled. “It’s all
right, father,” she declared. “Frank
married me to save me from that horrible
Forbes. He didn’t want to do so because
of that ridiculous accusation against him,
but he couldn’t help it. I insisted on it.
Shake hands with him. You and I are
going to find the real murderer, and clear
his name.”</p>

<p>“But—but—Mr. Loving——”</p>

<p>Loving, his face pale, but with a forced<span class="pagenum" id="Page_260">[260]</span>
smile on his lips, struck in. “Hallo, Howard,
old man,” he said, holding out his
hand. “I was just waiting my chance to
speak to you. Frank Howard is all right,
colonel,” he continued earnestly, turning
to the elder man. “I’ve told you so before,
you know.”</p>

<p>Colonel Fairfax had recovered his
poise somewhat. “Well,” he said, “this
isn’t the time or place to talk about it,
though it is the time to thank you, Mr.
Howard, for saving my girl’s life. It
nearly killed me when I lost her. Come,
let’s get on board—Good Heavens!
Loving! What’s the matter?”</p>

<p>Loving’s face had grown white as
death, and his distended eyes seemed
popping from their sockets. Following
his gaze, the others saw Mr. Willoughby
picking his way along the Seashark toward
them.</p>

<p>“Ah! Mr. Howard,” he said, holding
out his hand to Loving, “I’m glad to see
you here, for, of course, it means that you<span class="pagenum" id="Page_261">[261]</span>
must have cleared yourself of that terrible
charge. Quite a coincidence having
another of the same name in our little
party, isn’t it? I had meant to speak to
him about you, but we have been in such
a turmoil that I haven’t had the chance.”</p>

<p>The changing expressions in the faces
of his listeners suddenly caught the good
man’s attention. “Why! What is the
matter?” he explained. “I—I hope I
don’t—— Surely you have cleared yourself
of that charge, Mr. Howard?”</p>

<p>Loving’s dry lips moved, but no sound
came. The other men, too, were stricken
dumb. Only Dorothy found breath.</p>

<p>“This gentleman is Mr. Loving, Mr.
Willoughby,” she gasped. “Why do you
call him Howard?”</p>

<p>The missionary turned a bewildered
face to the girl. “I don’t understand,”
he stammered. “I knew this gentleman
as Mr. Howard in Porto Rico, where I
married him to Dolores Montoro. Later
she followed him to New York, and he<span class="pagenum" id="Page_262">[262]</span>
was reported to have murdered her. I
was coming to testify when I was
wrecked, and——”</p>

<p>Loving burst suddenly into a fit of jarring
laughter. “You needn’t say any
more, Mr. Willoughby,” he cackled.
“You’ve put the noose around my neck
all right. Yes, I did it, I did it. I married
that she-devil under your name, Howard,
and when she followed me to New York
I killed her. I didn’t mean to get you
into it, but you got a letter she intended
for me, and butted in just in time to get
accused. You’ll bear me witness that I
tried to save you; and I would have done
it, too, if those fools in Porto Rico hadn’t
identified your photograph as the man
who married Dolores. All smooth-faced
men in uniform look alike to them, I suppose.
Well, it’s all up now, and I’m glad
of it. Maybe you won’t believe me, but
I haven’t had a happy moment since you
were arrested. I’m not so bad as you
think; that woman was a fiend and—but<span class="pagenum" id="Page_263">[263]</span>
there’s the ship. I’ll go on board and
write out a formal confession.”</p>

<p>Unseen, the Duluth had approached
and, as she ran smoothly alongside, Loving
caught a Jacob’s-ladder swinging
from a boom, and ran up it to the deck.</p>

<p>Before any one could follow, the
Duluth swung past, and, when a moment
later her reversed screw brought her to
a halt, the sound of a pistol-shot in her
ward-room told that Loving had signed
his confession with his blood.</p>
<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" />

<div class="chapter">
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_264">[264]</span>

<h2 class="nobreak">EPILOGUE</h2>
</div>

<p>The Sargasso Sea will soon be robbed
of half its terrors. The Seashark Wrecking
Company, with Howard at its head,
and all his party as share-holders, has
been formed to recover the great wealth
still existing on the derelicts in the sea.
It has opened communication with the
wreck-pack by a paddle-wheel steamer
that is expected to maintain a reasonably
clear channel through the weed. The
company is projecting a series of relief
stations, and will keep up a constant
patrol all round the wreck-pack. The expense,
of course, will be enormous, but
there is no doubt that the enterprise will
meet it and will pay an enormous profit
besides, even if not a single other treasure-ship
is found.</p>

<p>A message just received by wireless
from the sea says that the first steamer<span class="pagenum" id="Page_265">[265]</span>
of the company is about to start back to
New York with a tremendously valuable
cargo of salvage. It adds that Forbes
and all his men have begged for passage,
and that it will be granted them. The
money left on the galleon, which Forbes
was forced to divide, has made them all
comparatively rich, and they are anxious
to get back to civilization to spend their
money. Their departure leaves Howard
and his friends with an undisputed title
to the salvage of the Isle of Dead Ships.</p>

<p class="center">THE END.</p>

<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" />

<div class="chapter">
<p class="ph1"><span class="u"><i>DELIGHTFULLY FASCINATING</i></span></p>
</div>

<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
<p><span class="xxlarge"><b>The<br />
Princess Dehra</b></span></p>

<p><span class="large"><b>By JOHN REED SCOTT</b></span></p>
</div></div>

<p class="center">In which we meet again the characters of his dashing success,
“<i>The Colonel of the Red Huzzars</i>” (Eleven editions).</p>

<div class="blockquot">
<div class="bbox">
<p class="drop-cap">MR. SCOTT displays uncommon dramatic skill
in the handling of his characters—the same,
by the way, as those who were met in his
“Colonel of the Red Huzzars.” It is a continuation
of that former dashing romance of an American army
officer who turns out to have royal blood in his
veins which eventually wins for him a throne and
enthrones him in the heart of a charming princess;
mystery, intrigue, plot, and counterplot, all are
here, and the reader will find his attention held until
the very last page, when loyalty and the wit of a
woman triumph in the face of even “the Book of
Laws” and a clever rascal.</p>

<p>“Here is a new story to set the pulses tingling.”—<i>Philadelphia Press.</i></p>

<p>“Since Hope’s ‘Prisoner of Zenda,’ nothing better has been
done than this new story by the author of ‘The Colonel of the
Red Huzzars.’”—<i>Cincinnati Enquirer.</i></p>

<p>“There are situations involving the principal characters
which are ingenious in conception and cleverly woven into the
story by essential and natural sequence, and at these situations
the reader feels a desire to continue the story, even if the house
be burning. He has produced a story that is interesting and
exciting without being overdrawn.”—<i>Boston Evening Transcript.</i></p>

<p class="center"><i>Four Full-Page Illustrations in Color by Clarence F. Underwood.
12 mo. Decorated Cloth, $1.50.</i></p>
</div></div>

<p class="ph1"><span class="large">J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY</span><br />
PUBLISHERS <span class="gap">     PHILADELPHIA</span></p>

<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" />

<div class="chapter">
<p class="ph1"><i>THE DASHING NOVEL</i></p>
</div>

<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
<p><span class="xxlarge"><b>THE<br />

COLONEL<br />

OF THE<br />

RED HUZZARS</b></span></p>
</div></div>

<p class="ph1">By<br />
JOHN REED SCOTT</p>

<div class="blockquot">
<p>Stirring adventures, courtly intrigue, and fencing both
of sword and wit, fill the pages of this story. The plot is
built upon a wager between Major Dalberg, U. S. A., and
a friend that within a certain time both would be dining
with the king and dancing with the princess royal of Valeria.
Strangely enough, Dalberg proves to be of the blood
royal of Valeria, is reinstated into his ancestral rights, and
when matters are about to reach a climax, the pretender
steps in, and there ensues an encounter between American
pluck and unscrupulous cleverness.</p>

<p>“There’s not a dull page in it.”—<i>The Index, Pittsburg.</i></p>

<p>“A slap-dashing vacation-day romance.”—<i>Evening Sun, New York.</i></p>

<p>“So naïvely fresh in its handling, so plausible through its naturalness,
that it comes like a mountain breeze across the far-spreading desert of
similar romances.”—<i>Gazette-Times, Pittsburg.</i></p>
</div>

<p class="center"><b>Illustrations in Colors by CLARENCE F. UNDERWOOD</b></p>

<p class="center"><b>12mo. Decorated cloth, $1.50</b></p>

<hr class="tiny" />

<p class="ph1">J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY Philadelphia</p>

<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" />

<div class="chapter">
<p class="ph2">BEAU BROCADE</p>
</div>

<p class="center"><span class="large"><i>By BARONESS ORCZY</i></span></p>

<p class="center"><i>Author of “The Scarlet Pimpernel,” “I Will Repay,” etc.</i></p>

<div class="blockquot">
<p>A captivating romance of love and chivalry—the
adventures of a charming highwayman of the days
of the English Pretender.</p>

<p>“Faith and courage make the story of ‘Beau
Brocade’ a very interesting one. The hero is delightfully
fascinating—bubbling over with exuberance of youth;
nothing is a hardship for him. He reminds one of Dumas’s
famous D’Artagnan, and most especially in his fighting
escapades. Gloriously dramatic is the fight in the forge,
when, by his prowess, Beau Brocade holds at bay a lot of
redcoats, escaping on his steed ‘Jack O’Lantern.’”—<i>N. Y. American Book Review Contest.</i></p>

<p>“The story is so well told, so full of life and action,
that one never loses interest from start to finish.”—<i>Pittsburgh Dispatch.</i></p>

<p>“Let no one begin reading this tale late in the evening,
for there is no stopping-place till the end, and the end
is worth reaching.”—<i>The Congregationalist, Boston.</i></p>

<p>“The illustrations in color are unusually attractive.”—<i>Chicago Tribune.</i></p>
</div>

<p class="center">FOUR FULL-PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS IN COLOR BY
CLARENCE F. UNDERWOOD.</p>

<p class="center">12mo. Cloth, $1.50.</p>

<hr class="tiny" />

<p class="ph1"><span class="large">J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY</span><br />
PUBLISHERS <span class="gap">     PHILADELPHIA</span></p>

<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" />

<div class="chapter">
<p class="ph2">When Kings Go Forth<br />
to Battle</p>
</div>

<p class="ph1">By WILLIAM WALLACE WHITELOCK</p>

<p class="center"><i>Author of “The Literary Guillotine,” etc.</i></p>

<div class="blockquot">

<p>A small German principality is the seat of
exciting warfare. An unscrupulous king and a conniving
“minister of interior improvements” find
their match in two invincible Americans who keep
the secret of a young prince’s hiding-place, and with
characteristic American energy join in a revolutionary
plot to unseat the reigning monarch and place the
prince upon the throne.</p>

<p>“A story that grasps our interest with its first
chapter and causes us to follow breathlessly until the
climax.”—<i>Baltimore Sun.</i></p>

<p>“The prettily tinted illustrations by Frank H.
Desch are particularly praiseworthy.”—<i>Philadelphia Press.</i></p>

<p>“Told with energy and color, and it is well worth
reading.”—<i>San Francisco Argonaut.</i></p>

<p>“Some excellent illustrations in color add to the
beauty of the volume.”—<i>Nashville American.</i></p>
</div>

<p class="center">
THREE FULL-PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS IN COLOR BY<br />
FRANK H. DESCH.      12mo.      Cloth, $1.50.</p>

<hr class="tiny" />

<p class="ph1"><span class="large">J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY</span><br />
PUBLISHERS   ::   ::   ::   PHILADELPHIA</p>

<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" />

<div class="chapter">
<p class="ph2">THE SMUGGLER</p>
</div>

<p class="ph1">By ELLA MIDDLETON TYBOUT</p>

<p class="center"><i>Author of “The Wife of the Secretary of State” and “Poketown People.”</i></p>

<div class="blockquot">
<p>This is not, as the title might suggest, a tale of
daring deeds on the deep, but a blithesome story of the
adventures of three American girls while spending
their summer vacation on a Canadian island. They
become involved in a series of strange happenings by
a band of clever smugglers who pose as their friends,
using them as a blind in their smuggling operations.
There is a pretty love story interwoven with mystery,
adventure, and humor, that holds the reader’s interest
from cover to cover.</p>

<p>“The characters are mightily convincing, and the rapid-action
plot makes the most indifferent reader ‘sit up’ until he has
devoured the last word.”—<i>Times-Dispatch, Richmond, Va.</i></p>

<p>“A happy blending of Stocktonesque humor and Anna
Katherine Green mystery.”—<i>New York Globe.</i></p>

<p>“A brightly written story for those who like light and agreeable
fiction that is free from coarseness.”—<i>Boston Budget and Beacon.</i></p>
</div>

<p class="center">ILLUSTRATED IN COLOR BY HOWARD EVERETT SMITH.<br />
12mo.      Cloth, $1.50.</p>

<hr class="tiny" />

<p class="ph1"><span class="large">J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY</span><br />
PUBLISHERS <span class="gap">     PHILADELPHIA</span></p>

<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" />

<div class="chapter">
<p class="ph2">The Affair at Pine Court</p>
</div>

<p class="ph1">By NELSON RUST GILBERT</p>

<div class="blockquot">
<p>A truly American novel of love and mystery, taking
place at the Adirondack lodge of a New York
millionaire. It is a story of living people set against
a background of October-painted forests, azure lakes,
and limpid trout-streams.</p>

<p>The reader lives through such exciting days in the
depths of this great forest, with characters so well
drawn and so intensely human as to seem alive. The
arrival of a German count gives direction and impetus
to incipient love affairs. He arouses the greed of
the humble natives by exhibiting the wonderful
“Lens of the Gau” in the presence of his host’s
butler. These envious enemies of the rich pleasure-seekers
at the court put the house in a stage of siege,
during which each guest displays his or her real character.
The many incidents of the forest war are told
with admirable skill, and a happily ending love affair
keeps the reader’s attention taut and eager.</p>

<p>“A tale of mystery, crisply and briskly told.”—<i>Leader, Cleveland.</i></p>

<p>“An unusual story in which the author has pictured real men,
who ring true in the time of danger.”—<i>Buffalo Express.</i></p>

<p>“A book whose plot is well conceived and wrought out, whose
craftsmanship is excellent, and whose ability to hold the interest to
the last page is undisputed.”—<i>The Interior, Chicago.</i></p>

<p>“A book to be read not only for its strong human interest, but
for its true picture of life in the Adirondacks.”—<i>Argonaut, San Francisco.</i></p>
</div>

<p class="center">THREE FULL-PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS IN COLOR<br />
BY FRANK H. DESCH.</p>

<p class="center">12mo.     Cloth, $1.50.</p>

<hr class="tiny" />
<p class="ph1"><span class="large">J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY</span><br />
PUBLISHERS <span class="gap">     PHILADELPHIA</span></p>

<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" />

<div class="chapter">
<div class="transnote">
<p class="ph1">TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES:</p>

<p>Obvious typographical errors have been corrected.</p>

<p>Inconsistencies in hyphenation have been standardized.</p>

<p>Archaic or variant spelling has been retained.</p>

<p>The cover image for this eBook was created by the transcriber and is entered into the public domain.</p>
</div></div>

<div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 69065 ***</div>
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