The Red Rat's Daughter Part 28

Indeed, it is to her, more than any one else, that you owe your escape.

But for her endeavours you would be in Dui now. But let us be off; we are wasting our time talking here when we should be making ourselves scarce."

"But what about these things?" asked MacAndrew, pointing to the books on the table, the crockery on the shelf, and the hundred and one other things in the hut. "What do you intend doing with them?"

"I scarcely know," replied Browne. "The better plan would be for us to take with us what we can carry and leave the rest. If they are of no other use, they will at least give whoever finds them something to think about."

"I wish him joy of his guesses," rejoined MacAndrew, as he led the old man out of the hut.

Browne remained behind to put out the lamp. As he did so a smile pa.s.sed over his face. How foolish it seemed to be taking precautions, when he would, in all human probability, never see the place again!

The fire upon the hearth was burning merrily. Little by little it would grow smaller, the flames would die down, a ma.s.s of glowing embers would follow, then it would gradually grow black, and connection with the place would be done with for ever and a day. Outside it was brilliant starlight, and for this reason they were able easily to pick their way down the path towards the place where Captain Mason had promised to have the boat.

So weak was the old man, however, that it took something like half an hour to overcome even the short distance they had to go. He could scarcely have done as much had not MacAndrew and Browne lent him their support. At last they reached the water's edge, where, to their joy, they found the boat awaiting them.

"Is that you, Phillips?" inquired Browne.

"Yes, sir, it's me," the third mate replied. "Captain Mason sent us away directly your signal was sighted."

"That's right," said Browne. "Now, just keep your boat steady while we help this gentleman aboard."

The boat's crew did their best to keep her in position while MacAndrew and Browne lifted Monsieur Petrovitch in. It was a difficult business, but at last they succeeded; then, pushing her off, they started for the yacht. For some time not a word was spoken. MacAndrew had evidently his own thoughts to occupy him; Katherine's father sat in a huddled-up condition; while Browne was filled with a nervousness that he could neither explain nor dispel.

At last they reached the yacht and drew up at the foot of the accommodation-ladder. Looking up the side, Browne could see Captain Mason, Jimmy Foote, and Maas leaning over watching them. It had been previously arranged that the meeting between the father and daughter should take place in the deckhouse, not on the deck itself.

"Is he strong enough to walk up?" the captain inquired of Browne. "If not, shall I send a couple of hands down to carry him?"

"I think we can manage it between us," said Browne; and accordingly he and MacAndrew, a.s.sisted by the mate, lifted the sick man on to the ladder, and half-dragged, half-carried him up to the deck above.

"Where is Miss Petrovitch?" Browne asked, when they reached the deck.

"In the house, sir," the captain replied. "We thought she would prefer to be alone there. She knows that you have arrived."

"In that case I will take you to her at once," said Browne to the old man, and slipping his arm through his, he led him towards the place in question. When he pushed open the door he a.s.sisted the old man to enter; and, having done so, found himself face to face with Katherine.

She was deadly pale, and was trembling violently. Madame Bernstein was also present; and, if such a thing were possible, the latter was perhaps the more agitated of the two. Indeed, Browne found his own voice failing him as he said, "Katherine, I have brought you your father!"

There was a moment's hesitation, though what occasioned it is difficult to say. Then Katherine advanced and kissed her father. She had often pictured this moment, and thought of the joy she would feel in welcoming him back to freedom. Now, however, that the moment had arrived it seemed as if she could say nothing.

"Father," she faltered at last, "thank Heaven you have escaped." She looked at him, and, as she did so, Browne noticed the change that came over her face. It was as if she had found herself confronted with some one she did not expect to see. And yet she tried hard not to let the others see her surprise.

"Katherine, my daughter," replied the old man, "do you remember me?"

"Should I be likely to forget?" answered Katherine. "Though I was such a little child when you went away, I can remember that terrible night perfectly."

Here Madame Bernstein interposed, with tears streaming down her face.

"Stefan," she sobbed, "Heaven be thanked you have at last come back to us!"

Thinking it would be as well if he left them to themselves for a short time, Browne stepped out of the house on to the deck, and closed the door behind him. He found MacAndrew, Maas, and Jimmy Foote standing together near the saloon companion-ladder.

"Welcome back again," began Jimmy, advancing with outstretched hand.

"By Jove! old man, you must have had a hard time of it. But you have succeeded in your undertaking, and that's the great thing, after all--is it not?"

"Yes, I have succeeded," returned Browne, in the tone of a man who is not quite certain whether he has or not. "Now, the question for our consideration is, what we ought to do. What do you say, MacAndrew; and you, Maas?"

"If I were in your place I would get away as soon as possible,"

answered the former.

"I agree with you," put in Jimmy. "By Jove! I do."

"I cannot say that I do," added Maas. "In the first place, you must remember where you are. This is an extremely dangerous coast about here, and if anything goes wrong and your boat runs ash.o.r.e, the man you have come to rescue will be no better off than he was before. If I were in your place, Browne--and I'm sure Captain Mason will agree with me--I should postpone your departure until to-morrow morning. There's nothing like having plenty of daylight in matters of this sort."

Browne scarcely knew what to say. He was naturally very anxious to get away; at the same time he was quite aware of the dangers of the seas in which his boat was, just at that time. He accordingly went forward and argued it out with Mason, whom he found of very much the same opinion as Maas.

"We have not much to risk, sir, by waiting," said that gentleman; "and, as far as I can see, we've everything to gain. A very strong current sets from the northward; and, as you can see for yourself, a fog is coming up. I don't mind telling you, sir, I've no fancy for manoeuvring about here in the dark."

"Then you think it would be wiser for us to remain at anchor until daylight?" asked Browne.

"If you ask me to be candid with you," the skipper replied, "I must say I do, sir."

"Very good, then," answered Browne. "In that case we will remain."

Without further discussion, he made his way to the smoking-room, where he announced to those a.s.sembled there, that the yacht would not get under way till morning.

"'Pon my word, Browne, I think you're right," continued Maas. "You don't want to run any risks, do you? You'll be just as safe here, if not safer, than you would be outside."

"I'm not so sure of that," retorted Jimmy; and then, for some reason not specified, a sudden silence fell upon the party.

A quarter of an hour later Browne made his way to the deck-house again.

He found Katherine and her father alone together, the man fast asleep and the girl kneeling by his side.

"Dearest," said Katherine softly, as she rose and crossed the cabin to meet her lover, "I have not thanked you yet for all you have done for--for him and for me."

She paused towards the end of her speech, as if she scarcely knew how to express herself; and Browne, for whom her every action had some significance, was quick to notice it.

"What is the matter, dear?" he asked. "Why do you look so sadly at me?"

She was about to answer, but she changed her mind.

"Sad?" she murmured, as if surprised. "Why should I be sad? I should surely be the happiest girl in the world to-night."

"But you are not," he answered. "I can see you're unhappy. Come, dear, tell me everything. You are grieved, I suppose, at finding your father so changed? Is not that so?"

"Partly," she answered in a whisper; and then, for some reason of her own, she added quietly, "but Madame recognised him at once, though she had not seen him for so many years. My poor father, how much he has suffered!"

Browne condoled with her, and ultimately succeeded in inducing her to retire to her cabin, a.s.suring her that MacAndrew and himself would in turns watch by her father's side until morning.

"How good you are!" she said, and kissed him softly. Then, with another glance at the huddled-up figure in the easy-chair, but without kissing him, as Browne had quite expected she would do, she turned and left the cabin.

It was just two o'clock, and a bitterly cold morning. Though Browne had declared that MacAndrew would share his vigil with him, he was not telling the truth, knowing that the other must be worn out after his travels of the last few days. For this reason he persuaded Jimmy to take him below, and to get him to bed at once. Then he himself returned to the deck-house, and set to work to make Katherine's father as comfortable as possible for the night.

Just after daylight Browne was awakened by a knocking at the door. He crossed and opened it. It proved to be the captain. He was plainly under the influence of intense excitement.