Chapter XXIV: On Board the Marjorie

Jim had a restless night. He was sadly disappointed with himself, that he should have so carelessly allowed his enemies to triumph over him. He could not imagine for what purpose he was now detained, and he was very determined upon seeking an early opportunity to escape.

In the circumscribed quarters of the brig in which he was confined, he could move about but little. There was a small porthole, but far too small for any possibility for escape through the opening.

The night was hot and little air astir. He gazed purposelessly through the porthole, dozing anon till far after the middle of the night, he was aroused to active interest by seeing the lights of another ship. From his viewpoint, the harbor's opening toward the sea was visible.

There was commotion now over his head, the running about of sailors, calling the captain to the deck. The mate and others of the crew all assembled on the deck above, and very near Jim's compartment.

The first exultant thought in Jim's mind was that the professor with the Storm King had come to his rescue. The more logical reasoning determined that it would have been quite impossible to have accomplished any such result in so short a time. Furthermore such a move would have been foolhardy and impractical. No, there must be some other explanation to be sought.

The mysterious arrival was puzzling Captain Beauchamp and his company, who, indeed, took the new arrival to be the Storm King. This Jim readily determined by the talk of those leaning against the deck rail.

"Are you sure that no lights are showing below?" It was Beauchamp's soft voice.

"There are no lights lit on board, sir. Your orders were that none should show in this harbor."

"Then they can't locate us in the dark. Before dawn have all the guns looked over and everything made in readiness for an attack."

"Is that young fellow worth fighting for?" asked the mate.

"I thought to keep him while we looked for the cave, and his party don't know that we have got him."

"But they will soon find out. Any one of those Frontier Boys can follow even a rabbit trail."

"So? I never thought of that. Well, we will make a dicker with them. If they find the treasure, and divide fairly, we will----. Say, it's beginning to rain. Let's get under cover. When it rains here it's a deluge."

Jim had listened interestedly to the conversation, and was cognizant now of the heavy downpour.

"It will make the atmosphere a little cooler," he mused, "but it will also wash out the trail."

With the first gleam of light, the storm having ceased, the deck was again peopled with interested spectators, and Jim, listening, was treated to a surprise that, figuratively speaking, nearly took his breath away.

"Say, it looks like--what do you make it out to be, Marion?"

"It looks like--it is, the Sea Eagle."

"The Sea Eagle," gasped Jim, in a barely suppressed voice. "Say, but what queer things do happen," and once more a breath of exultant joy possessed him. Then the misery of his situation reasserted itself. Here was his own ship near at hand, and he a helpless prisoner, and he fairly raged and struck the cabin door with impotent fury.

Later on, as the light increased, he was able to see his beloved ship clearly outlined against the sky, and, closely observant of all that transpired, he saw Broome himself, giving directions from the bridge.

Signals were evidently exchanged between the two ships, for later, Broome was seen to enter a small boat which was rowed toward the Marjorie.

Jim had nothing to do for a while. He surveyed the surface of the bay for signs of breaking fish, or the splash of a vagrant water bird, dreaming of the possibilities built on the hope of repossessing himself of the Sea Eagle.

Then again came the sound of voices on deck. The two captains were in conference.

"A big storm," Jim heard Captain Broome say. "We weathered it well, but the Swedish bark which we had sighted had been for some time in distress, could not stand the strain and had to be abandoned."

"Then you have all the crew of the lost ship aboard?"

"What could we do but lend a hand?" said Captain Broome in an apologetic tone, as if deploring the necessity for an ordinary humanitarian act.

"How large a crew, and who is their commander?"

"A dozen of the beggars and blessed with appetites that are insatiable. Captain ter Tofte Luhrensen was in command. He was also the owner of the lost vessel."

"And what do you propose to do with them?"

"Why do you ask?" was Broome's diplomatic response.

"I just thought you might have in mind the leaving of the crowd on this island."

"Well, I might, if you wish me to."

"And I just don't wish it. I have got trouble enough with the professor's crew."

"So Featheringstone is here? Has he located the treasure?"

"Not yet. Well, there's lots of things to talk over, my dear Broome. Let's have a spread, a feast. Get your sister and her husband, and we will discuss the situation over a bowl of punch."

"I'm with you, and send your crew over to the Sea Eagle. Let them have a jollification."

Jim could but faintly hear their voices now, for the speakers had moved aft. He had noticed one point in particular. Beauchamp had never referred to the fact that a prisoner was confined on the deck beneath him.

Now, to Jim's mind came the insistent need to escape, and very carefully he examined every surface, angle and crevice of his prison. All this was unavailing, however. Surely it was a hard fate that he must sit there so helplessly. His only dependency evidently was upon help to come from the outside. One thing he determined to do, however. When the door of his cabin was opened for any purpose he would make a break for liberty, and fight his way, if need be, single-handed.

But if breakfast was to be brought to him to afford this needed opportunity, it was long deferred. Three hours, he estimated, had passed thus. During this time he had seen Red Annie and her husband rowed to the Marjorie. The Swedes in a long boat were busily occupied in bringing fresh water in casks from the shore to the Sea Eagle, and on board the latter the jollification was decidedly in progress as he could both see and hear.

On board the Marjorie, all was quiet. He could occasionally hear the murmur of voices, but nothing more. Looking just now toward the Sea Eagle he saw that the combined crews of the two ships were manning the long boat.

There was scarcely a man among them now who could be regarded as moderately sober. The majority were immoderately intoxicated. They were singing ribald songs and the recitative, between the melodies was composed of oaths such as Jim had never heard. The men in the long boat did not succeed in getting clear of the Sea Eagle without some violent altercations, first with the Swedes and then among themselves. The jovial songs were quickly abandoned in favor of yells and shouts and threats, oars were freely and indiscriminately used, and there seemed to be a breaking of heads all around.

"There seems to be a regular melee," thought Jim, as he stood by the porthole, observing the lively scene. He watched the men leap from thwart to thwart of the boat and make for one another like bulldogs. He thought he knew exactly how the fight would end, and it did end precisely as he anticipated.

More than a dozen men cannot carry on a naval engagement of that sort for a long time without an accident of some kind, and no one had reason to be surprised when an unsteady man, balancing himself on an unsteady gunwhale, to strike at a particular "friend" with a heavy oar, failed in his aim, and went headlong into the water; nor was it in any way unnatural or contrary to the laws of gravitation that the bow of the boat on being released of his weight, should jump up, thereby interfering with the man who was balancing himself astern and sending him overboard with equal dispatch.

Just at that moment, Jim was startled by a voice close beside him, for he had had no intimation that anyone was about. Turning quickly, he discovered that a small panel in his door had been slid aside and a plate of food was pushed through and into his extended hands.

Needless to say, the food was welcome, but the method of serving dashed away the hope and plan of escape he had had, and so ardently counted upon. But the voice! That he recognized as familiar, although he did not at once remember to whom it belonged. Suddenly he knew. It was the steward, Pedro, come probably to mock him in his captivity. He never had liked the man. His unvarying servilitude, and now the full knowledge of his treachery to his employer thoroughly awakened all his ire.

"I have brought you this food."

Jim could not refrain from hissing from between his clenched teeth, "You traitor!"