Hurricane Island by H. B. Marriott Watson (free novels to read .TXT) 📕

a moment and then came towards me. It was bitterly cold, and she was clad in her furs. She came to a pause near me.

"I could not sleep, and it is early yet," she said. "Are you expecting danger?"

"We have always to act as if we were," I said evasively.

She was examining my face attentively, and now looked away as if her scrutiny had satisfied her.

"Why has this man never made any attempt to get the safes?" she asked next.

"I wish I knew," I replied, and yet in my mind was that strange piece of information I had just had from Lane. Who had stolen the key?

The Princess uttered a little sigh, and, turning, began to walk to and fro.

"It is sometimes difficult to keep one's feet when the floor is at this angle," she remarked as she drew near to me; and then she paced again into the distance. She was nervous and distressed, I could see, though her face had not betrayed the fact. Yet how was I to comfort her? We were all on edge. Once again she paused near me.

"What are our chances?"

"They are hopeful," said I, as cheerfully as I might. "The fortress has always more chances than the leaguers, providing rations hold out, and there is no fear of ours."

"Ah, tell me the truth!" she cried with agitation.

"Madam, I have said what is exactly true," I replied gravely. "I have spoken of chances."

"And if we lose?" she asked after a pause.

Her eyes encountered mine fully. "I have no information," I said slowly, "and very little material to go on in guessing. But I hope we shall not lose," I added.

"This can't go on forever, Dr. Phillimore," she said with a little catch in her voice. "It has gone on so long."

My heart bled for her. She had been so courageous; she had shown such fortitude, such resistance, such common sense, this beautiful proud woman; and she was now breaking down before one of her brother's employees.

"It can't go on much longer," I said, again gravely. "It will come to its own conclusion presently."

"Ah, but what conclusion?" she cried. "Who knows! Who knows?"

The sight of her agitation, of that splendid woman nigh to tears, thrilled me to the marrow with a storm of compassion and something more. I was carried out of myself.

"God be witness," I cried, "that while I live you shall be safe from any harm. God be my witness for that."

She uttered a tiny sob and put out her hand impulsively.

"You are good," she said brokenly. "I am a coward to give way. But I was alone. I have brooded over it all. And Frederic--Thank you, oh, thank you! To have said so much, perhaps, has helped me. Oh, we shall all live--live to talk of these days with shudders and thankfulness to God. You are right to call God to witness. He is our witness now--He looks down on us both, and He will help us. I will pray to Him this night, as I have prayed three times a day."

She spoke in a voice full of emotion, and very low and earnest, and her hand was still in mine. And, as she finished, the two electric lights in the corridor went out, leaving us in pitch darkness. I felt the Princess shudder.

"Be brave," I whispered. "Oh, be brave! You have called to God. He will hear you."

"Yes, yes," she whispered back, and clutched my hand tighter, drawing nearer me till her furs rested against my breast. "But what is it? What does it mean?"

"It may mean nothing," I replied, "but it may mean----"

I put my ear to the door, still holding her, and listened. Through the noises of the sea I could make out other and alien sounds. "They come... You must go. Can you find your way?"

"Let me stay," she murmured breathlessly.

"No, no; go," I said. "Your place is in your cabin just now. Remember, I know where it is and I can find you."

"Yes, find me," she panted. "Please find me. See, I--I have this." She put the butt of a revolver into my hand. "That has been by me since the first. But come; find me--if--if it is necessary."

I raised her hand to my lips and she melted away. I turned to the door.

"Lane!" I called. "Lane!"

His voice sailed back to me. "What's gone wrong with the lights?"

"They're coming," I said. "Look to your door." And even as I spoke a bar crashed upon mine from without. In an instant the corridor was full of noises. The mutineers were upon us, but they had divided their forces, and were coming at different quarters. It remained to be seen at which spot their main attack was to be delivered. I put my revolver through one of the holes we had drilled in the door, and fired. It was impossible to say if my shot took effect, but I hoped so, and I heard the sound of Lane's repeater at the farther end. The blows on the door were redoubled, and it seemed to me to be yielding. I emptied two more cartridges through the hole at a venture, and that one went home I knew, since I had touched a body with the muzzle as I pulled the trigger. Ellison was on guard in the saloon below, and Grant and the cook in the music saloon; and I judged from the sounds that reached me in the _melee_ that they also were at work. By this time Barraclough and Jackson and the Prince had arrived on the scene, the last with a lantern which he swung over his head. Barraclough joined me, and Jackson was despatched to grope his way into the saloon to assist Ellison. The Prince himself took his station with Lane, and I heard the noise of his weapon several times. My door had not yet given way, but I was afraid of those swinging blows, and both Barraclough and I continued to fire. The corridor filled with smoke and the smell of powder.

"Do you think he's made up his mind to get through here?" asked Barraclough.

"I don't know," I shouted back. "He's attacking in three places, at any rate. We can't afford to neglect any one of them."

"Confound this darkness!" he exclaimed furiously. "Oh, for an hour of dawn!"

The blows descended on the door, but still it held, and I began to wonder why. Surely a body of men with axes should have destroyed the flimsy boards by this time. It looked as if this was not the real objective of the attack. I sprang to the bolt and was drawing it when Barraclough called out, for he could see in the dim light of the lantern.

"Good heavens, man, are you mad?"

"No," I called back. "Stand ready to fire. I believe there's practically no one behind this"; and, having now released the bolt, I flung open the door. Simultaneously Barraclough fired through the open darkness, and a body took the deck heavily, floundering on the threshold. The rest was silence. No one was visible or audible. But at my feet lay two bodies.

"I thought so," I said excitedly. "This was mere bluff. And so's the attack on Lane's door. See, there's no force there. I will settle that."

I delivered a pistol shot along the deck in the direction of some shadows, and retreated, bolting the door behind me.

"Where is it?" gasped Barraclough, out of breath.

"One at each door will do," said I. "Fetch Lane here. I think its the music-room. You and I had better get there as fast as we can."

Without disputing my assumption of authority, he ran down the corridor, and explained our discovery, returning presently with Lane. Then we made for the music-room.

It was pitch black on the stairs, but we groped our way through, guided by the sounds within. Barraclough struck a match and shed a light on the scene. For an instant it flared and sputtered, discovering to us the situation in that cockpit. The place was a shambles. Grant was at bay in a corner, the cook lay dead, and half a dozen mutineers were struggling in the foreground with some persons I could not see: while through the broken boards of the windows other men were climbing. With an oath Barraclough dropped his match and rushed forward. My revolver had barked as he did so, and one of the ruffians who was crawling through the window toppled head first into the saloon. But the darkness hampered us, for it was impossible to tell who was friend or enemy; and I believe it had hampered the mutineers also, or they must have triumphed long ere this. I engaged in a hand-to-hand struggle with some one who gripped me by the throat and struck at me with a knife. I felt it rip along my shoulder, and a throb of pain jumped in my arm. But the next moment I had him under foot and had used the last cartridge in my chamber.

"Where are you, Grant, Barraclough, Ellison?" I called out, and I heard above the din of oaths and feet and bumping a voice call hoarsely to me. Whose it was I could not say and upon that came an exclamation of pain or cry. "My God!"

With the frenzy of the lust of blood upon me, I seized some one and drove my revolver heavily into his skull. I threw another man to the floor from behind, and was then seized as in a grasp of a vice. I turned about and struggled fiercely, and together my assailant and I rocked and rolled from point to point. Neither of us had any weapon, it appeared, and all that we could do was to struggle in that mutual and tenacious grip and trust to chance. I felt myself growing weaker, but I did not relax my hold and, indeed, came to the conclusion that if I was to survive it must be by making a superhuman effort. With all the force of my muscles and the weight of my body I pushed my man forward, at the same time striving to bend him backward. He gave way a little and struck the railings that surrounded the well of the saloon, bumping along them heavily. Then recovering, he exerted all his strength against me, and we swayed together. Suddenly there was a crack in my ears, the rail parted asunder, and we both toppled over into space. A thud followed which seemed to be in my very brain, and then I knew nothing.

When I was next capable of taking in impressions with my senses I was aware of a great stillness. Vacantly my mind groped its way back to the past, and I recalled that I had fallen, and must be now in the saloon. Immediately on that I was conscious that I was resting upon some still body, which must be that of my opponent who had fallen under me. What had happened? I could hear no sounds of any conflict in progress. Had the enemy taken possession of the state-rooms, and were all of our party prisoners or dead? I rose painfully into a sitting posture, and put out a hand to guide myself. It fell on a quiet face. The man was dead.

It was with infinite difficulty that I got to my feet, sore, aching, and dizzy, and groped