The Pirate of Panama Part 49

"Not to-night. I'm so--weary and--unstrung. I'll do whatever you say, but--give me time to--to--Oh, I'm afraid!"

"Bothwell, you cur, come in here and you and I will see this out to a finish!" I cried in helpless fury.

"Presently, my dear Sedgwick. I'll be there soon enough, and that's a promise. But ladies first. You wouldn't have me delay my wedding, would you?"

I flung myself against the door repeatedly and tried to beat it down, but my rage was useless. The lock and the hinges held. Back I went to my porthole.

"Evelyn, are you there?"

"Yes," came the answer in a choked voice.

"Don't do it. What are you thinking of? I'd rather die a hundred deaths than have you marry him."

"I must, Jack. If you should be killed--and I could have prevented it---- Oh, don't you see I must?"

The words were wrung from her in a cry, as if she had been a tortured child.

"Of course she must. But why make a tragedy of it? By Heaven, you wound my vanity between the pair of you. Am I not straight--as good a man as my neighbor--still young? Come, let us make an end of the heavy-villain-and-hero business. You, my dear Sedgwick, shall stand up and give the bride away. That is to say, you shall stand at your porthole. You'll find rice in a sack to scatter if you will. We want you to enjoy yourself. Don't we, Evie?" Bothwell jeered blithely.

"You devil from h.e.l.l!"

"Pooh! Be reasonable, man. We can't both marry the maid, and by your leave I think the best man wins. Abrupt I may be, but every _Katherine_ is the better for her _Petruchio_." He turned to her, dropping his irony for tones of curt command. "I'll be back in twenty minutes with the parson. Be ready then."

With that he turned on his heel and left, locking the door behind him.

CHAPTER XXV

A RESCUE

Even now when it is only a memory I do not like to look back upon that twenty minutes. My poor girl was hysterical, but decided. Neither argument nor entreaty could move her from her resolution to save my life, no matter what the cost. I pleaded in vain.

"I can't let you die, Jack--I can't--I can't." So she answered all my appeals, with a kind of hopeless despair that went straight to my heart.

Through my remonstrances there broke a high-pitched voice jabbering something in Spanish of a sort. The sound of running footsteps on the deck above came to us. Some one called a warning.

"Keep back there or we'll fire!"

Then my heart leaped, for across the water came the cool, steady voice of Blythe.

"My man, I want to talk with Bothwell."

More feet pattered back and forth on the deck, and among the hurrying steps was one sharp and strong.

"Good evening, Captain Blythe. You're rather late for a call, aren't you? Mr. Sedgwick was in better time. We have to thank him for an hour's pleasant entertainment."

I recognized the voice as belonging to Bothwell.

"If you've hurt a hair of his head I'll hold you personally to account.

Unless you want me to board your schooner you will at once release Mr.

Sedgwick and Miss Wallace."

"Miss Wallace has practically ceased to exist," the Russian drawled.

"What do you mean?"

"I shall have the honor to send you cards, captain. Miss Wallace has become my wife."

I stuck my head out of the porthole and shouted. "That's a lie, Sam.

You're just in time to save her."

"Are you a prisoner, Jack?"

"Yes. So is she. In the next cabin." Some one stepped quickly across the deck and leaned over the rail above me. Bothwell's dark face looked down into mine. He leveled a revolver at my head and fired just as I drew back.

That shot served as a signal for the attack. Bullets sang back and forth, some from the schooner, others from the boats of my friends.

As for the battle, I saw from my porthole only the edge of it, and that but for a few moments as a boat full of men swept forward. Someone was firing with a rifle, while the others put their backs to the oars.

Presently the boat swept round the bow of the schooner and was lost to my view. But I could hear the firing of guns, the trampling of men above, and from their words could tell that the attackers were keeping their distance, even though they were firing pretty steadily from the cover of the sh.o.r.e bushes.

I must confess that Blythe's method of attack surprised me. How many men Bothwell had I did not know, but it was plain to me that the only way to take the ship was to rush it. We might fire at long distance for a week without doing more than keep them busy.

That I was wild to be free and in the thick of it may be guessed.

Knowing as I did how matters stood between Evelyn and her cousin, I saw that she must be rescued at once to prevent the unholy marriage the Slav planned.

Strange that Sam could not see this and that he had not led a more dashing attempt at succoring the girl.

Three taps on the door of my prison jerked me round as if I had been pulled by a string. My revolver was in my hand. The door opened slowly and let in a man.

"That's far enough. What do you want?" I asked brusquely.

"S-sh! It's me, Mr. Sedgwick. Are you in irons?"

It was Gallagher. If I had been a Frenchman I would have kissed his ugly old mug for the sheer pleasure of seeing it. I knew now that Blythe had kept up the long distance fusillade in order to distract the attention of the defenders while Gallagher had crept close from the sh.o.r.e side.

I ran forward.

"Where is your boat?"

"Hidden in the bushes. Alderson is with it. Where is the lady, sir?"

In another minute Evelyn was free and standing with us in the pa.s.sage. I noticed that the fire of the attackers had grown more rapid. The sound seemed closer. The demonstration was taking on the appearance of a real boarding expedition.

We climbed the forecastle ladder. I led the way, revolver in hand. From where I stood, a few steps from the top of the ladder, my eyes could sweep the forward deck.