Fire Mountain Part 32

He wondered if Ruth had really answered their question, and if she had told them truly where the writing was. One thing vastly cheered him--he gathered from Ichi's words that Ruth was safe from molestation so far. He decided he had best tell them the truth. It would not help them, and it could not harm Little Billy, for poor Billy was gone.

"Billy Corcoran has the code," he said. "I saw him place it in his pocket last night."

"Ah--so!" exclaimed Ichi. He exchanged a significant glance with Carew. "What unfortunateness! Just as the young woman said!"

"Little Billy, eh!" said Wild Bob. "Well, young fellow, can you tell us what became of that blasted hunchback?"

Martin almost leaped from his chair. What! Had Little Billy escaped?

Did they know what had become of Little Billy? Martin had accepted without question the fact that Little Billy was dead. The probabilities, and the boatswain's conviction, had convinced him. But now...

"I don't know what has become of him," he told Carew. "You ought to know. He had the watch on deck when you came out of the fog, last night."

"---- queer!" muttered Carew. Then to Ichi: "I tell you, doctor, he must have been settled and dumped overside with the rest. We fixed every one who was awake, except this fellow, Blake. The hunchback must have been knifed and thrown over without being recognized."

"No, there were only three, and the cripple was not of them," returned Ichi.

Not of them! Martin's heart was pounding joyfully. Then Little Billy was alive.

"Well, he isn't on the s.h.i.+p," a.s.serted Carew. "He isn't in the hold with that fo'c's'le crowd, nor aft, here, nor hidden anywhere about the vessel. We know that. Let us not waste any more time--we'll get the information the other way. Call in the minx. Perhaps it will tame some of that cursed spirit of hers to witness her pretty darling, here, being made uncomfortable!"

He accompanied his remark with a hateful glance toward Martin, a glance that was filled with cruel antic.i.p.ation. But neither look nor words much disquieted Martin's mounting spirits. "In the hold with the fo'c's'le crowd!" Carew had said. Then the boatswain would not have to chance breaking into the forepeak. He need only get into the hold to join the remnant of the crew, and it was a stout remnant if only three had been slaughtered. Why, the boatswain must already have joined them; be leading them now in an attempt to break out of the hold. And Little Billy was alive, and at large!

Martin wriggled his wrists in the handcuffs and stiffened tensely in his seat. Almost, he expected to hear that instant the commotions of battle from the deck, and to see his friends burst into the cabin. He eyed wistfully the carving-knife on the table and marked it for his weapon. No, he could contemplate these thugs about him now without that hopeless sinking of the heart; he could even withstand torture with fort.i.tude born of hope. For there was a fighting chance.

"Go knock on the door and fetch her out," said Carew to Ichi. To the silent Moto he added: "All right, Moto, we are ready for you. Stand by!"

CHAPTER XVII

TWO MEN AND A MAID

Ichi rapped softly on the door of Captain Dabney's room. The door opened a s.p.a.ce, and a clear, fearless voice demanded--

"Well, what do you wish?"

The happy thrill Martin felt at the sound of that undaunted voice was nowise dampened by the knowledge that Moto, the torturer, stood behind his chair, with fingers ready to Carew's bidding. Martin, for the instant, had but eyes and ears of love.

"My dear miss, we would consider it a favor of much greatness if you would but spare us a few moments of your honored time," said Ichi, bowing profoundly to the crack in the door. "If you will but grant us the delightfulness of your presence for a very short time--then you may return to carefulness of the honorable Dabney."

Ruth stepped out of the berth and softly closed the door behind her.

Then she faced about and saw Martin sitting stiffly on the edge of his chair, with his arms behind his back.

"Oh, Martin!" she cried.

Martin caught his breath as he returned her look, while a sudden surge of feeling clogged his throat and stabbed his heart with a thrust half pain, half pleasure. She was beautiful! She was glorious!

She stood there, swaying easily to the gentle motion of the riding s.h.i.+p, her wide-open eyes full upon his with a look that held a world of anxious love. Her face appeared like a bright, rare flower, in contrast with her blue blouse and skirt, and the dark wood-paneling behind her. The night had placed its mark upon her features--there were dark circles beneath her eyes, and a droop at the corners of the sweet mouth. But courageous self-reliance was still her bearing; and the haggard hints of suffering on her face but enhanced its loveliness.

She was glorious, superb! Martin, his own love in his kindling gaze, recalled of a sudden how she had looked that night when he had stolen the kiss. A glancing moonbeam had that time lighted her beauty. So, too, this time a light ray brightened her--a sunbeam darting through the open skylight set her in a golden frame.

A sharp, sobbing intake of breath came from the head of the table where Carew sat. Ruth directed her gaze from Martin to the outlaw, and her mouth became grim, and her eyes, but now so soft with love, became hard and alert.

Martin, too, looked at Wild Bob. And the sight of the man's face brewed wild rage in Martin's soul, stirred the elemental instinct that makes the male fight to keep his mate. For Carew was also staring at Ruth, much the same as Martin had been staring. His face was hungry, avid, with desire--desire for the wonderful woman before him. His very soul was in his burning gaze, and it was an ugly, b.e.s.t.i.a.l soul.

The man was mad--mad with love, insane with a heedless, reckless pa.s.sion for the girl. Martin could well understand now Wild Bob Carew's turbulent and persistent wooing of Ruth. His whole ruthless, lawless nature was dominated by his evil pa.s.sion; for so long balked, his love had fed wildly upon itself till now it was his master.

Yet, in that brief, illuminating moment when Martin regarded the other's pa.s.sion-heated countenance, he beheld something that soothed his rage, checked his panic, and made his heart suddenly swell with pride and tenderness for his love. For behind the l.u.s.tful glistening in Carew's eyes there lurked a shadow of fear.

Carew was afraid of the girl! Martin, with the lover's insight, discerned and interpreted that lurking shadow. For Carew's fear was bred of man's nature, and made strong by the intensity of his wild emotion; the fear was a vicious nature shamed, an impure love abashed, by the virgin goodness of the woman.

The fleeting glance Martin had of the conflict in Carew's mind conveyed meaningful information to his own love-sharpened senses. Carew was baffled by the girl.

It was Ichi who interrupted the tense silence that followed Ruth's entry. He beckoned to Yip, and then bowed low before Ruth.

"But, miss, will you not be seated?" he said.

Charley Bo Yip left his work at the table and brought a chair, placing it, at the j.a.p's direction, directly opposite Martin, but several feet distant.

Ruth sat down, ignoring Ichi, but smiling an acknowledgment of the service to the impa.s.sive Chinaman. Her hand, Martin noticed, brushed against Yip's hand as she took her seat. Yip returned to his labors and immediately left the cabin with a tray-load of dishes.

Martin's speech at last broke through the host of emotions and impressions that had swarmed upon him during the past few moments.

Ruth's eyes were on him again. For a moment there was a swift, though broken, conversation.

"Oh, Ruth, how is it with you? Have they----"

"Safe, Martin. And you--oh, the beasts! Your arms!"

"Nothing, dear. Captain Dabney----"

"Alive--unconscious. The bo's'n--Billy? What----"

"Billy's alive, Ruth! Free! How----"

"Enough of that!" broke in Carew roughly. "You two were not brought together for conversation. Any more of that chatter and I'll have Moto place a finger on 'dear Martin's' windpipe!"

As if obeying an order already given, Moto became alive. Martin had for the time being forgotten the ju-jitsu man standing behind his chair, but now Moto suddenly leaned forward and gently stroked his neck with long and supple fingers.

Ruth's eyes widened at the action, and horror crept into them as she looked past Martin and observed the cruel, impa.s.sive calm of Moto's yellow face. She turned to Carew.

"You beast! Have you brought us together, then, to torture us?" she cried.

Martin saw the red blood mantle the renegade's cheeks. But Carew held check on his tongue. It was Ichi who answered the girl's scornful words.

"Torture? Ah--no, no! It is, ah, persuasion," said Ichi. "But let us trust, my dear miss, you will not compel us to persuade. Believe me, my honored captain and myself are your very fine friends; it would muchly harrow our gentlemanness to order Moto to make painful the person of esteemed Mr. Blake, and thus make disturbful your own honorable mind. We would not like to be hurtful to dear Mr. Blake--ah, no."

"You gloating, yellow cat!" was Ruth's response. "Why, you are torturing him now. Look at his arms!"