El Diablo Part 51

d.i.c.kie Lang grasped her rifle tighter and leaned over the rail as she heard the soft dip of oars. Then her hold on the gun relaxed. Perhaps it was Gregory returning to the launch.

A glance into the gloom to starboard caused her to drop silently into the c.o.c.kpit. Resting the rifle on the coaming she covered the approaching boat and waited in silence. To her ears came the low murmur of men's voices. Then the oncoming craft veered sharply and faded from view. For some time the girl crouched upon the floor of the launch. At length the silence of the night was broken by the far-off pulsing of a high-speed motor.

She jumped to her feet, her eyes glowing with excitement. Even at the distance she could not be deceived. There was only one other craft about with an exhaust like that.

Mascola was fleeing from Diablo in the _Fuor d'Italia_.

She sprang to the hood and began pulling on the anchor-chain. Then she stopped suddenly. The man she loved was still on the island. Perhaps he had been wounded. Maybe killed. And in the meantime, Mascola was escaping. For an instant love and hate fought for possession of the heart of d.i.c.kie Lang. Then the chain slipped through her fingers and the anchor dropped again to the bottom. Silently she returned to the wheel and sat down to wait. It was the hardest part of all to play. And it always fell to a woman.

When Gregory reached the end of the tunnel he could hear the shouts of men and the rapid discharge of firearms from around the point. He must be in the cove adjoining the goose-neck. Crawling rapidly through the brush he gained the beach. Then he stopped and listened. Mascola had evidently taken to the water.

A sudden fear gripped his heart at the thought and sent him racing down the beach in the direction of the _Richard's_ dory. His fears for the girl's safety abated as he found the dory undisturbed among the rocks.

Shoving it into the water he rowed hastily for the launch. As the skiff sc.r.a.ped the _Richard's_ side, he sprang aboard and caught the girl in his arms. For an instant love alone dominated his heart.

"Mascola escaped in the _Fuor d'Italia_."

d.i.c.kie's words recalled Gregory to his purpose. The next instant he was pulling at the chain.

"I'll take you around the point to the cutter," he called to her as he worked. "You'll be safe there until----"

"No." The girl's answer was spoken with a determination there was no gainsaying. "I'm going with you," she said in a low voice. "There were two men in the launch."

CHAPTER x.x.xI

BENEATH THE WATERS

As the _Richard_ cleared the point and plunged into trough of the swell, a thin column of light filtered through the fog astern and traveled slowly over the gray water.

Gregory put the wheel over and began to zigzag as he remembered that the _Bennington_ was lying in at the goose-neck. At the distance the revenue cutter would be unable to distinguish friend from foe and would take no chances.

"Stay down," he called to d.i.c.kie. "It's the search from the _Bennington_. They may shoot."

The light moved sh.o.r.eward as he spoke, carefully searching the rocks which fringed the coast. Gregory threw the wheel in the opposite direction and struck out at a tangent toward the sea. His speed would soon carry him beyond rifle range. Kicking open the cut-out, he advanced the throttle. The _Richard_ shook with the sudden burst of power, then began to plane.

Gregory kept his eyes on the moving rays as he held the launch on her seaward tack. The light was moving nearer, but its beams were paling.

The cutter evidently had not moved from her anchorage. Doubtless she would be kept fully occupied at the goose-neck. The next instant the fog-wall ahead dripped in the rays of the searchlight.

Gregory's hand flashed to the spark as his foot released the throttle.

The angry roar of the speed-boat died away on the instant and the hull dropped sullenly. Putting about, he started sh.o.r.eward at right angles to his former course.

The whine of machine-gun bullets sounded over his head to the starboard.

Then the leaden hail was drowned by the bark of the open exhaust.

He had done the right thing that time. To have tried to dodge at speed would have turned the _Richard_ over. Now he was safe for a few seconds at least he reflected, as he watched the light traveling over his former course.

As the rays again bent sh.o.r.eward he saw a long point projecting out into the sea. Beyond the jutting promontory he would be safe. Running a course which would carry him clear of the point by a narrow margin he settled low in his seat and dashed forward.

The fog-dimmed light hovered about the point as the _Richard_ plunged boldly into the focus of its dripping beams. As the launch veered to make the turn, the waters astern were splashed by the steel pellets from the _Bennington's_ machine-gun. Then the gunner of the revenue cutter began to raise his sights. Splinters flew from the _Richard's_ stern.

The coaming was riddled as the deadly hail moved toward the bow.

The gunner on the _Bennington_ ceased grinding as the launch disappeared behind the point.

"I could have got that bird in one more second," he muttered ruefully.

"If the old man would let us move, we can get him yet."

Gregory threw off the power and hurdled the seat.

"Are you hurt?" he called to d.i.c.kie as he hurried toward the stern.

d.i.c.kie Lang was not hurt. Only cut by a flying splinter. It was nothing.

The girl made her way forward.

"Let me take her until we clear the coast," she said. "You gave me the shivers the way you grazed that reef off China Point."

As they inclined their ears into the gray mist which enveloped them, they caught the murmur of the _Fuor d'Italia's_ exhaust.

Gregory surrendered the wheel.

The girl listened to the rapid-fire pulsations of the boat ahead.

"He's headed out to sea," she said. "And we're going to have to drive to catch him with this lead."

Her words were drowned in the thunder of the _Richard's_ motor and the speed-launch bounded away to overtake her hated rival.

"The fog is lifting. Soon it will be clear. We must watch closely for pursuit."

Mascola grunted a reply to Bandrist's observations. Weather conditions meant very little to him at the present moment. His mind was occupied with matters of far more importance.

It would be well to know just where Bandrist stood concerning a division of his money before they went farther. Now would be a good time to find out. He made the suggestion at once that the islander grant him an advance of funds until such time as he could obtain his money from Legonia and Port Angeles.

"I have no money to spare," Bandrist answered curtly. "You are foolish not to have been better prepared. Our business is one which should have taught you that. You will have a hard time now to get your money from the States."

An angry retort welled to Mascola's lips but he choked it back. Bandrist was speaking again.

"Here is one hundred dollars. You are welcome to that. But no more."

Mascola's eyes flashed at the smallness of the sum. A hundred dollars would be next to nothing, even in Mexico. Bandrist, he felt sure, possessed money in plenty. If there was not enough for two, there would be plenty for one.