The Captain of the Kansas Part 32

"Necessity may have no laws," said he; "but I fancy I should have found a code to meet his case."

"I have organized a Vigilance Committee in my time, and its articles kind of fitted in," was the American's quiet reply. "That is why I have a few recent knife-cuts distributed about my skin; I began to shoot and we were two short on the muster roll next day. De Poincilit ran, and fell on his knees. So did a skunk of an Italian, and I did not want to waste cartridges. They were tied back to back until we sailed to-day."

"And the fifth?"

"The fifth was a woman."

"Huh!" Boyle reached out for a bottle of wine and refilled his gla.s.s.

For a little while there was silence. Then Courtenay muttered:

"Poor devil of a Count! 'She gave me of the tree and I did eat.' Did he blame the woman?"

"Well, yes. But it was a mean business, any how."

"Better sponge it off the slate, eh?"

"I agree heartily. Drink up, Boyle, and pa.s.s the buck. I have a five years' thirst."

They talked until day-break; then Courtenay turned in. He did not appear on deck again until noon. By that time the _Kansas_ had lost all marks of the fight excepting the smashed windows, and a sailor who understood the glazier's art was replacing the broken gla.s.s. Making the round of the s.h.i.+p, the captain found Elsie sitting with Isobel and Mrs. Somerville on the promenade deck. She was binding Joey's foot, and he knew then why the dog had scampered off on three legs as soon as the cabin door was opened.

The girl colored very prettily the moment she set eyes on her lover.

Memories of the previous night became exceedingly vivid. She was adorably shy, Courtenay thought. As he approached, he debated the manner of his greeting; being a sailor, he did not hesitate.

Lifting his cap with a smile and a general "Good morning," he bent over Elsie.

"Well," he said, "surely you owe me at least one kiss?"

If her cheeks were red before they became scarlet now. But his kindling glance had warned her that he would adopt no pretence, so she lifted her face to his, though she did not dare to look at her amazed companions. Courtenay explained matters quite coolly.

"If Elsie has not told you already, it is my privilege to announce that she and I have signed articles," he said with a smile. "That is, we intend to get married as soon as the s.h.i.+p reaches England."

"Indeed, I congratulate you both most heartily," said the missionary's wife.

"Events have marched, then, while we were stranded on that wretched island?" t.i.ttered Isobel. Her voice was rather shrill. She, too, was excited, not quite mistress of herself. She did not know how far Gray's statements might have prejudiced her with the captain; she had already sent de Poincilit a note urging him to deny absolutely all knowledge of the plot to steal the boat, and attribute the American's summary action to his mistaken rendering of the Spanish patois used by the Chilean sailors.

"Yes," laughed Courtenay, ready to put her at ease. "One crowds the events of a month into a day under some conditions. Last night, for instance, I had five minutes' amus.e.m.e.nt with a steampipe and a double-barrelled gun which will serve all my requirements in the way of physical exercise for a long time to come."

"You feel sure that we shall see no more of the Indians?" asked Isobel, quickly.

"I think so. One never can tell, but if they have the grit to attack us again I shall regard them as first-cla.s.s fighters."

"Dr. Christobal says they have an astonis.h.i.+ng power of bearing pain without flinching," said Elsie, plunging into the talk with a hot eagerness. "The Alaculofs in the fore cabin were afraid of him, thinking he meant to kill them, but, when they found that he wished only to dress their wounds, they followed his actions with a curious interest, as though he were tending some other person's hurts and not their own. And that reminds me. He told me you ought to have that cut on your forehead washed. Let me look at it."

She stood up, and placed the dog on a chair. Lifting Courtenay's cap she brushed back his hair with her fingers, and found that he had covered an ugly scar with a long strip of skin plaster. The tense anxiety in Isobel's face forthwith yielded to sheer bewilderment.

These two were behaving with the self-possession of young people who regard the "engagement" stage as a venerable inst.i.tution.

Of course Courtenay liked to be fondled in this manner. Elsie was at her best as a ministering angel. But he protested against the need of the doctor's precaution.

"No, no," he cried, "you already have one faithful patient in Joey. I wonder he did not wake me earlier so that he might rush off to you. I never have known him play the old soldier before. To see him curled up there, gazing at you with those pathetic eyes, who would think that his teeth met in Alaculof sinews last night? Twice, to my knowledge, he saved my life. And the way he dodged blows aimed at him was something marvelous. He used all four paws then, I a.s.sure you."

"Ah, yes," agreed Elsie, blus.h.i.+ng again as she recalled the scene in the saloon. "He could have told me the Indians were aboard long before I knew it myself. Dr. Christobal deceived me so admirably that I am not sure yet if I have forgiven him."

"He is a first-rate chap in an emergency," said Courtenay, "though I have a bone to pick with him, too. He promised to call me at eight o'clock, but I expect he and Boyle, or Tollemache, conspired to let me sleep on. I was astounded when I saw the time. What do you think of a skipper who lies abed all the morning, Miss Baring?"

"Gray has told him nothing," she decided at once. "That is very nice of Gray. I must thank him." But she replied instantly, in her piquant way:

"Elsie certainly kept us in the dark about her _fiancailles_, Captain Courtenay; but has not been silent as to your other achievements. If you were not telling us that you have actually slept, I should have cherished the belief that you had not closed an eyelid since the s.h.i.+p struck."

Isobel meant to be on her best behavior. Her pact with the Frenchman was discreditable but smooth words might restrain tongues from wagging until she could leave the s.h.i.+p. Moreover, the vicissitudes of life in these later days were not without their effect. She had known what it was to suffer. She had seen men dying like cattle in the shambles.

The shadow of eternity had fallen so closely that twice during the preceding night she was rudely awaked by the shrieking fear of a too vivid dream. These things were not the b.u.t.terfly flutterings of sunlit Valparaiso. They were of a more ardent order, and her wings had not yet recovered from the singeing.

Courtenay, willing to maintain a fiction which evidently gave her relief, answered lightly that he yet had to earn these compliments, but he hoped to be able soon to fix a date when everybody might bombard him with the nicest phrases they could think of, and end the embarra.s.sing ordeal once for all.

"I went through something of the sort last year on board the _Florida_," he added. "People insist on regarding it as marvelous that a man should strive to do his simple duty."

Suddenly it occurred to him that the topic was unpleasantly a.n.a.logous to the little French count's cowardly escapades. If one talks of duty, and recognizes its prior claim, what of the man who, in his selfish frenzy, is prepared to leave others to their fate, whether on a wrecked s.h.i.+p or a barren island? So he turned to Elsie again.

"By the way, you have never seen those letters," he said. "I was hunting for them when the alarm was raised last night. Shall I bring them now?"

Elsie gave him a glance of subtle meaning. Her eyes telegraphed "What matters it whether I see them to-day or in half a century? Do I not trust you?" But she only murmured:

"Not now, I am telling Mrs. Somerville and Isobel all the news."

He squeezed her shoulder. Any excuse would serve for those slight pettings which mean so much during early days in wonderland.

"Then I shall resume my rounds. I expect to be received reproachfully by Walker. He made great progress yesterday. Let me whisper a secret.

Then you may pa.s.s it on, in strictest confidence."

He placed his lips close to her ear.

"I am dreadfully in love with you this morning," he breathed.

"That is no secret," she retorted.

"It is. You and I together must daily find new paths in Eden. But my less poetic tidings should be welcome, also. Walker says he hopes to get steam up to-morrow."

"Well, tell us quickly," cried Isobel, with a show of intense interest, when Courtenay had gone. She had decided on a line of conduct, and meant to follow it carefully. The more sympathy she extended towards her friend's love idyll, the less likelihood was there of disagreeable developments in other respects. That trick of calculating gush was Isobel's chief failing. She was so wrapped up in self that her own interests governed every thought. Courtenay's reference to letters sent a wave of alarm pulsing through each nerve. Though his manner betokened that the affair was something which concerned Elsie alone, she was on fire until she learnt that his "secret" alluded to the restored vitality of the s.h.i.+p.

For once, her expressions of grat.i.tude were heartfelt. Mrs. Somerville even wept for joy. This poor woman after living twenty-five years in the oasis of a mission-house, was a strange subject for storm-tossed wandering and fights with cannibals. Seldom has fate conspired with the fickle sea to sport with such helpless human flotsam, save, perhaps, in that crowning caprice of the waves which once cast ash.o.r.e a live baby in a cradle.

But the baby's emotions were crude, and probably in no wise connected with the tremors of s.h.i.+p-wreck, whereas Mrs. Somerville, during these full days, was constantly asking herself how it could be possible that she was living at all.

"It will be a real manifestation of Providence if we ever reach England again," she cried, dabbing her eyes with a handkerchief. "I'm sure John and I have said so many a time during the past week. To think of the s.h.i.+p's blowing up in the way she did, it makes me all of a tremble, it does."

"Oh," broke in Elsie, thinking that the information she possessed would help to calm the older woman, "we have made a good many discoveries since--since the boat went away without me, I mean. But do tell me, how did those horrid Chileans manage to cast off the tackle before Mr.

Gray or some of the other men were able to stop them? Of course, it is matterless now, in a sense, but at that moment it looked like leaving those on the s.h.i.+p to certain death."

Mrs. Somerville was stricken dumb. The American's shooting of two men on White Horse Island had naturally called for a complete explanation on his part, and she did not know how to answer Elsie's question.

Before she could gather her wits, Isobel intervened.