  I wonder if the beggar'll follow us," gasped Brack, between his spurts; "seemed mor'n half inclined to it—cuss him for his meddling!" "Where are you going?" asked Hector. "To the Sea-mew." Hector started—his brother's yacht. He must not go there. What would be the consequences if he were taken on her, found concealed? Picton would be compromised, in grave danger, probably of imprisonment. "I cannot let you go there," said Hector; "it is impossible." "Just you sit still. You're a'goin' there whether you like it or not," said Brack doggedly. "I will not place my brother in a false position." "What'd you do if he were in your place and came to the yacht as you're doin'?" Hector made no answer; he knew he would take the risk. "There y'ar," said Brack triumphantly; "I knew it. You'd take him aboard and gie him a hearty welcome." "Put back; I won't go," said Hector. "Put back, eh, and land yer right in his arms. Not me, not for Brack, oh dear, no; you just sit still, will yer?" Brack had a peculiar habit of saying "you" and "yer," and sundry other words, changing them as the mood took him. "Now I'd not be at all surprised if he'd hired a boat and was on his way to the London Belle, just to scent out things; he's a human bloodhound, d——n him, that's what he is." "If he goes to the London Belle he'll find out we have not been there and he will guess we have come to the Sea-mew," said Hector. "I cannot risk it, Brack." "Leave him to me. We'll reach the Sea-mew long afore he can get to the Belle. That's her out there, right beyond the yacht. I'll put you aboard and row round to her like h——, and I'll meet him comin' to her if so be he's set out; I'll see he doesn't board her if I have to run him down." Brack was pulling with all his might; the boat seemed to skim through the still water of the bay like a skiff; they were nearing the Sea-mew. Captain Ben Bruce was on deck, looking over the side. They were about to leave the harbor; Picton was anxious to get away. He was in the cabin. Ben left him reading; probably he had fallen asleep after the excitement of the day. He heard the sound of oars, and in another minute or two saw the boat shooting toward the yacht. "Who's this coming here?" he wondered. He made no sound, merely watched, wondering what would happen. Brack did not see him as he came alongside; the gangway steps were up; how was he to get Hector aboard? "Is that you, Brack?" said Ben. "It's me, sir. Let down the steps quick. I've something to say to you, something that won't keep." "As particular as all that?" "Yes, a matter of life or death," said Brack. "We're just about to leave the harbor." "For God's sake, let down the steps!" said Brack. Hector did not move or speak; his nerves were strung to the highest pitch, he quivered all over. Captain Ben called a hand and they opened the gangway and lowered the steps. "Now's yer time—go up quick!" said Brack. "Who's that?" asked Ben, as Hector rose up. "He's comin' aboard; he's a friend of Mr. Woodridge's." "Who is he?" "He'll tell you when he's aboard," said Brack. "That won't do for me," said Ben. "Don't yer trust me?" asked Brack. "Yes." "Then, for God's sake, let him aboard or you'll regret it for the rest of your days." "Come up," said Ben, thinking it passing strange the man did not give his name. Hector hesitated; Brack urged him on. "Go, go! Think what I've got to do—row round by the Belle in case he's after us." Hector hesitated no longer; he could not leave Brack in the lurch, and if Hackler found out they had not rowed to the Belle there would be trouble. He got out of the boat; no sooner was he on the steps than Brack pushed off and shot away. Ben called after him but he did not stop; he was making for the London Belle as fast as he could row. "Who are you?" again asked Ben as he came on deck. Hector trembled with excitement; he was unstrung, he had suffered much; the chase over the moor, the battle with the hound, the naked flight, hunger, exposure, the fear of being taken, the suspense Hector groped along the deck like a man walking unsteadily in his sleep; he mumbled to himself, looked from side to side furtively, began to run, stopped, knelt down, put his face close to the deck in a listening attitude. Ben watched him, followed him. Was this a madman Brack had put on board? Presently Hector came across a coil of rope. He seized it with both hands and wrestled with it in his fierce grasp. "Strangling some one," thought Ben. "You beast, you're dead, ha, ha, ha, I've done for you!" and the weird laugh sounded doubly strange on the water. Hector rose and pulled off his coat, then stripped off his shirt. "I must stop this," said Ben. He stepped forward and was about to take him by the arm, when Hector whipped round and flung himself on him. "You'll never take me alive, never, I'll die first! Something in the face roused memories in Ben. He looked long and earnestly. The fever-stricken man returned his gaze; the poor tired brain had a glimmering of reason again. Thus they stood, gazing, forging the past, piecing links together in a chain of recollection. "Ben, Ben, don't you know me?" It was a bitter, heartbroken cry, a wail of anguish, and it struck Ben like a knife, it seemed to cut through him. As Hector's cry ceased he fell forward into Ben's arms. Like a flood the incidents of the past few days rushed into Ben's mind. The boom of the gun, the escape of the convict, Brack's story, the strangling of the bloodhound, the man on the road to Torwood. "Great heaven, it's Hector!" said Ben. "Poor fellow! My God, what a wreck!" Then his thoughts flew to Picton. It would never do to let him know to-night; he must be prepared for the shock. Where to conceal Hector? For the present, at any rate, he would put him in his "Help me to carry him into my cabin," said Ben. The sailor obeyed without a word. He was an elderly man; he had served with Captain Bruce on the Tiger. "Say nothing of this until I give you permission," said Ben. "Right, sir," said Abe Glovey. "Abe, you are much attached to Woodridge and myself?" "I am, sir." "Can you persuade every man on board to keep this man's presence here a secret? It's very important." "It shall be done, sir. They are all good men and true." "Mr. Woodridge will reward them handsomely if nothing transpires ashore." Hector lay on Captain Ben's bunk, and they stood looking at him. Ben took a sudden resolution. "Abe, I will confide in you, tell you a secret, which if disclosed means ruin to us all, and a living death to him." "I think I understand, sir." "You guess who he is?" "I know, sir. A terrible change has come over him, and no wonder, but I can recognize him, for I knew him and loved him in the old days. There's not one in a thousand would know him, but I do—it's Hector, sir, is it not?" "Yes, it's Hector Woodridge, or what's left of him. He's in a bad way, Abe." "He is, sir." "And we can't have a doctor to him." "No, sir, but we'll pull him through. Every man of us will help. Give me permission to tell them. They'll stand by him and Mr. Picton; you need have no fear of that, sir." "Trust them all; yes, that will be the best," said Ben. "I'm sure you're right, sir; quite sure." Captain Ben gave orders for the Sea-mew to leave Torbay, and she was soon moving slowly toward the sea. He sat beside Hector and listened to his moaning and muttering. He saw the wasted form, the haggard, drawn face, the gray hair, then he noticed the hands and shuddered. What an awful chase that must have been across the moor, bloodhounds on his track, every man's hand against him, no hope, no place to hide in. Yet there must have Brack must have discovered Hector in Torquay, and hidden him until he could get him on the Sea-mew. Where had he found him? That story was to be told. They were only just in time; Ben thought what might have happened had they missed the Sea-mew and had to return to Torquay, and shuddered. He vowed again that Hector should not be recaptured; no, not if he had to sail the Sea-mew half the world round, and fight for him. It would be weeks, perhaps months, before the fever-stricken man became well, and there was no better hiding-place than the Sea-mew, and no better doctor than the sea and its attendant breeze. Brack, rowing from the London Belle, saw the Sea-mew moving slowly toward the entrance to the bay. "He's safe; they'll never part with him. Brack, you're not such a bad sort after all! I wonder where's Hackler got to—perhaps he didn't follow us," thought the old boatman. He lay on his oars and watched the Sea-mew's lights until they disappeared. "There's a boat comin' now—wonder if it's him?" he said with a chuckle. "I'm ready for him, anyway." |
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