Part 25 (1/2)
But now the task became difficult. He must find the girl, and serve her.
To his surprise, his heart beat rapidly in contemplation of the task.
Surely she must welcome his coming to her a.s.sistance now. She would be alone, free to reveal the truth of all this strange mix-up of affairs; perhaps the old trust, the old confidence between them would be renewed.
At least in the midst of such peril, alone on the sinking yacht, facing possible death together, he would again discover the real Natalie Coolidge. The hope instantly inspired action. Every minute might mean life or death; the work must be accomplished now, if ever. The _Seminole_ was evidently deserted, the boat containing the fleeing crew already far enough away to be beyond sound of any noise he might make. He already felt the wallowing of the deck beneath his feet, a dead, dull feeling, evidence enough that the deserted vessel was slowly, but surely going down. The condition could not last long; faster and faster the water would seep into her hold, until suddenly, without warning, perhaps, she must go down like a stone.
All these thoughts flashed across his mind almost in an instant; there was no hesitancy, no waste of time. His eager eyes searched the narrow confines of the stateroom for some possible weapon with which to a.s.sail the door. The stout stool alone seemed available. Swinging this over his shoulder, hampered by the narrowness of s.p.a.ce, he struck again and again, with all his strength, the upper panel splintering beneath the third cras.h.i.+ng blow. He could see nothing, but felt with his fingers along the jagged ends of the shattered wood, and redoubled his efforts, striking wildly, but with effect, until suddenly the lock gave, and the door burst open. He was in the main cabin, which was unlit and deserted. Standing there confused in the grim silence, unable for the instant to determine how to advance in the dark, he could hear the rapid beating of his own heart, and the continuous lap of waves outside. G.o.d! how sodden the deck felt under foot; what a sickening swell hurled the craft, and such stillness! If the girl was aboard why did she not cry out? Surely she must have heard that noise, the rain of blows, the crunch of wood.
He stood, crouched, listening intently for something to guide him in the right direction. And yet, even if Natalie had heard, what reason would the girl have to suspect the truth? Likely enough she was sound asleep, completely worn out, and with no knowledge of what had occurred on board.
It was only the sound of that voice speaking loudly in the boat alongside which had aroused him. She had no reason to suspect desertion, no occasion to believe any other prisoner than herself was aboard. The noise of cras.h.i.+ng wood, even if it awoke her, would have no special meaning to her mind, only perhaps to add to her terror. He must act alone; there was no other way. If he could only have a light of some kind, and not be compelled to grope blindly about in that intense darkness.
He stepped cautiously forward, with hands outstretched, swaying to the sudden roll of the sinking hulk underneath his feet. He struck a piece of furniture, a bench bolted to the deck, and then his groping fingers came in sudden contact with the cabin wall, which he followed, circling to the left. In this manner he succeeded in finally locating the door opening out on to the deck, and had grasped the k.n.o.b, when a deep moan from the black void behind caused him to become suddenly erect, his heart beating like a trip-hammer. No other sound followed, no repet.i.tion, and yet there could be no mistaking what he had heard. It was a groan, a human groan, emanating from a spot but a few feet away. He took a single step in that direction; then hesitated, fearful of some trap; in the silence as he stood there poised, he could faintly distinguish the sound of some one breathing unnaturally.
”Who is there? Who moaned just now?” he asked, struggling to control his voice.
”I did,” the answer was a mere husky whisper out of the darkness.
”Masters, the watchman; but who are you? I don't know your voice.”
”It makes no difference; are you hurt? Where are you? How can I get a light?”
”Yes, sir; I'm about done for I guess; you're over by the door, ain't you? There's a hangin' lantern just up above, if you've got a match with you. Say, that looks good; I didn't hardly know but I was dead, it was so black. But I never saw you before; how did you get aboard here?”
The flame of the match caught the wick, and flared up, throwing a dim illumination over the cabin interior. West drew down the gla.s.s, before he ventured to glance in the direction of the voice. A man lay facing him, curled up on the deck, his hair, matted with blood, hanging over eyes that were burning with fever. He made no attempt to rise, apparently was unable to move, and a dark, b.l.o.o.d.y stain covered the deck. West sprang forward, and lifted the head on his arm.
”You are hurt--badly?” he exclaimed. ”What can I do for you?”
”Nuthin', I reckon,” still in that same strained whisper. ”I'm done for; no doubt of it. That guy got me. You ain't one o' that murderin'
gang, are you?”
”No; I was a prisoner on board; I came here to help a girl.”
”A girl! Miss Coolidge you mean, sir?”
”Yes, Natalie Coolidge; do you know anything about her? Where she is?”
”Sure, I know; the d.a.m.n whelps left her here; that was their dirty game, sir. 'Twas because I tried to unlock her door that Hogan slugged me. The boat's goin' down, ain't it? I know'd it was; I heard the skunks talk about what they was goin' to do, an' then I tried to get her out, sir.”
”You were the watchman?”
”Yes, sir; down in the lagoon at Jackson Park. These fellows come off to the yacht about midnight, an' they had Miss Coolidge with 'em. That's what fooled me, sir, an' I let 'em get aboard, thinkin' it must be all right. After that I couldn't do nuthin'--there was six to one, an' that 'Red' Hogan had a gun in his mitt. They hustled me down into the cabin. I didn't even know she was a prisoner until they locked her into a stateroom; then I got wise, but it was too late.”
”And she is there yet, Masters? What room is it?”
”The last one to the right, sir. Don't you mind about me; I'm done for, but maybe there's a chance for you two.”
CHAPTER XXV
FREE OF THE YACHT