Adventure stories; Inheritance and succession -- Fiction; Kidnapping -- Fiction; Love stories
Rescue, liberty, and, not least, triumph over Landon! These were all
possibilities, even probabilities, clear to Claire Van Arlen's
intelligence as she bent over Aylmer--clear, but undefined. Yet the one
outstanding, engrossing thought was that her champion had fallen in the
moment of victory. The blood was flowing from a deep cut on his
forehead; he was unconscious; the color had ebbed from his very lips. An
agony of apprehension seized upon her. He was dead! He was dead!
And then--the pulse of that relief will be quick in her to her dying
day--his eyes opened, he stirred. He did more than stir; he made efforts
to rise.
She held him masterfully; her voice was stern in her command to him to
lie still. And he looked up at her with an incredulous glance in which
humor had its part. He smiled--a puzzled smile. Suddenly remembrance
came back to him and his bewilderment became anxiety.
"The gunboat?" he asked hoarsely. "They saw me, they were slowing down!"
She nodded silently as she looked about her. They had floated within the
shadow cast by the towering bulk of the island nearest them. The last
red rim of the sun's disc had passed below the horizon. The dusk was
gathering. A mile away the gunboat was turning ponderously.
Rapidly she told him what she saw and he nodded a satisfied assent.
"They're done, now," he whispered triumphantly. "We have them in a cleft
stick!"
But Fate--listening Fate--shook her head.
It was Muhammed who had taken command of the situation, Muhammed who
roared his orders to hoist again the half-lowered sail, to let drift the
dingy from the stern, to stand by the halliards for a tack. He leaped
upon the tiller and flung the boat's prow round to point directly for
the land.
The freshening breeze from the northwest swelled out the great sail as
the panting sailors swung the yard aslant the mast. The water sang and
bubbled from the prow. The _Santa Margarita_ leaped landwards like a
living thing, straight for the cliffs of shadowing stone.
Captain Luigi, completely unnerved by the sudden crisis to which events
had soared, wailed protests without attempting interference.
"I call you to witness that I said he had the evil eye!" he cried. "I
call you to witness! Capture or destruction--there are no two ways to
it!"
"There is One God and one road to safety for a brave man," answered
Muhammed, as he leaned his strength upon the helm. "They call it
courage. Run out the French flag, _amigo_! They dare not fire on that,
here, in debatable waters, for all their claim to these islands as
within the grip of Spain."
A sudden pang of doubt shook Claire. The gunboat was completing its
turning movement--slowly--ah, how slowly! And yet? How could the
felucca, with no more than a fresh breeze to rely on, hope to evade
that greyhound of the seas? A spout of gray smoke burst from the gray
painted sides; the sound of a cannon shot echoed down to them among the
crags.
Muhammed laughed.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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