Miss Caprice Part 21

"I believe we will have a storm," is the last remark Sir Lionel makes, as he staggers across the rising deck and makes a plunge down into the cabin, for although a duck in the water, the Briton is no yachtsman, and possibly already feels the terrible grip of the coming _mal de mer_.

His words are soon verified, however, for the waves and wind continue to rise until the steamer is mightily buffeted. Still John remains on deck.

There is a fascination for him in the scene that words cannot express.

When he has had enough he will find his state-room and sleep, for surely he needs it after being awake a good deal of the preceding night at Valetta.

Darker grow the heavens. Thunder rolls, and the electric current cuts the air, illuminating the wild scene with a picturesque touch that is almost ghastly in its yellow white.

The steamer is well built, and in good condition to withstand the tempest, roar as it may. John tires of the weird spectacle at last, and he, too, makes a plunge for the cabin, reaching it just in time to escape a monster wave that makes the vessel stagger, and sweeps along the deck from stem to stern.

Below he finds considerable confusion, such as is always seen on board a steamer during a storm. Timid men looking as white as ghosts, frightened women wringing their hands and screaming with each plunge of the s.h.i.+p, as if they expect it to be the last.

A few foreign pa.s.sengers are aboard, and they do not seem free from the contagion, though inclined to be more stoical than the Europeans.

As the steamer plunges, some of the pa.s.sengers are huddled in a corner.

Loud praying can be heard, and those who are least accustomed to such things on ordinary occasions are most vehement now.

A Mohammedan is kneeling on his rug, with his face turned in the direction of Mecca, as near as he can judge, and going through with the strange rigmarole of bows and muttered phrases that const.i.tute his religion.

This scene is not a very pleasant one, but there are features about it which are worth being noticed, and John stands to gaze before seeking his room.

He has heard from the captain that the boat is perfectly safe, unless the storm should grow much heavier, and with this a.s.surance intends to seek his berth and sleep, if such a thing be possible.

He moves toward his state-room. Just then a billow strikes the steamer almost amids.h.i.+ps, and she rolls. This, not being expected, causes John to slide across the cabin floor, to the accompaniment of a chorus of cries from the frightened people, who are huddled in a corner by this new move on the part of the vessel.

He brings up alongside a state-room door, which is in the act of being opened, even as he bangs up against it.

Consequently John has the greatest difficulty in maintaining his balance, and in order to keep from sliding through the door grasps the sides.

Some one has opened it. A face is exposed close to his own, a face that, although not terror-stricken, bears the evidence of sudden alarm, as though the new pitch of the vessel and renewed shrieks from within have aroused fear--a face that John Craig recognizes with amazement.

"Tell me, are we sinking?" she exclaims.

Then she looks again.

"Ah! Doctor Chicago!"

"You here, Pauline Potter?"

The presence of the actress on board the steamer gives him a sudden thrill.

It is no mere accident that brings her, but a part of a deep-laid plan, which perhaps not only concerns him, but one in whom he has taken the deepest interest--Lady Ruth.

That is why he cries out, and his words have more than an ordinary amount of astonishment in them.

"Yes, I am leaving Malta. I have no reason to remain there longer. But tell me the worst, John Craig; are we doomed to go down?"

The vessel does not toss so wildly now, and the wails of the alarmed pa.s.sengers grow less in volume.

"I hope not. The captain a.s.sured me there was no danger whatever, and told me to get some sleep, if I could. I am on my way to my berth now.

Be of good cheer, the morning will see us safe enough, I believe."

Then he leaves her, and the state-room door closes.

This encounter makes John think of the other ladies. Are Aunt Gwen and Lady Ruth among those whose clamor arises from the cabin with each lurch of the s.h.i.+p?

As the thought flashes upon his mind, some one clutches his arm, and, turning, he beholds the little professor. There is a wild look in Philander's eyes, and his teeth rattle like castanets. Really the situation is terrible enough to appall any one.

"When do we go down, John?" he asks.

"Good Heaven! I trust not at all," and he cheers the other with what the captain has told him.

"I wish you could tell the ladies that."

"Where are they?" asks John.

"Come with me!"

In a few seconds the doctor sees the ladies, who have a state-room together. They are fully dressed, and look woe-begone. At each lunge of the vessel they gasp, and, when a particularly big one occurs, fall into each other's arms.

Both are brave enough, and yet the situation is such that a strange feeling creeps over the stoutest heart.

When John appears, and tells them what the captain has said, it rea.s.sures them considerably, and they feel better.

Presently he leaves them, and seeks his berth, where he actually goes to sleep. Tired nature will a.s.sert her power, even under the most discouraging conditions.

During the night the storm abates.

John Craig is awake early, and can tell that all is well from the easy motion of the steamer, for her plunges are few and of small moment. A silence broods over the scene; the tired pa.s.sengers have gone to sleep; all John can hear as he lies there is the dull throb of the engines and the swish of water against the side of the vessel.

CHAPTER XII.

TO THE HOUSE OF BEN TALEB.

Algiers!

The sunset gun is just booming over the African hills as the steamer drops anchor off the wonderful city where the French have gained a foothold and seem determined to stay.

John Craig is in a fever to go ash.o.r.e. He has had news that from Malta his mother went to Algiers on a mission, and his one object in life is to follow her until the time comes when he can see face to face the woman to whom he owes his being, toward whom his heart goes out, and whom he believes to have been dreadfully wronged.

Most of the pa.s.sengers are going farther, but as the steamer will remain in the harbor until morning, there is no need of any going ash.o.r.e.

John, however, cannot wait.

He engages a boatman--there are many who at once come out to the steamer for various purposes--tells his friends where they may find him, and with his luggage is away, just before darkness sets in, for it comes very soon after sunset in this country.