When I deemed that I had waited long enough, and had assured myself that the later night would not be more auspicious for the attempt, I cut away the remaining ropes at my feet, and crouched unbound in the boat. There was good watch upon the ship, I knew, for I could hear the "All's well!" as the bells were struck, and the passing of the orders from the poop to the fo'castle. This did not deter me; and, being determined to stake all rather than face the terrors of the nameless ship, I crawled to the bow, and began to cut the strands of the hawser one by one. The rope was very thick and hard, and the knife which I had stolen was blunt, so that the work was prodigiously slow and difficult; and when I had been at it for half an hour or more, I was interrupted in a way that sent my heart almost into my mouth. There was a man standing on the poop of the Labrador, and he seemed to be watching my occupation. I threw myself flat instantly, and listened to his hail.
"Ahoy, there, young 'un, are you getting a chill?" cried a bluff voice, which I did not recognise; but presently the man Four-Eyes hailed also, and I heard him say—
"If it's dead ye are, will ye be sending word up to us?" and, seeing the mood, I bawled with all my strength—
"I'm all right; but I'll call out for some more of that soup of yours just now."
They gave a great shout, and one of them said—
"You ken calcerlate ez you will be gettin' it all nice en' hot when you meet the old 'un in the mornin'"; and the crew roared with laughter at the sally, and disappeared one by one from the poop. Then I whipped out my knife again, and with a few vigorous strokes I cut the rope clean through, and felt my boat go swirling away on the backwash. It was a moment of supreme excitement, and I lay quite flat, waiting to hear if I were missed; but I heard no sound, and looking round presently, I saw the yacht away a mile, and I knew that I was a free man.
The delight of the enterprise would have been intense if my unexpected success had not allowed me to forget one thing when I had made my hasty plans. There were no oars in the boat. The terrible truth came to me as I fixed the seat and prepared to put greater distance between the Labrador and myself. But one look round convinced me that the position was hopeless. With the exception of the tarpaulins, the seats, and the tiller, the boat was unfurnished. As I thought of these things, and remembered that I was some hundreds of miles from land, that I had a couple of biscuits for food, and a half a flask of brandy and water for drink, I experienced a terror greater than any I have known; and so weak was I with sickness and so low with the disappointment of it, that I put my head between my hands and sobbed like a great child who had known a childish sorrow. Only when the tears had dried upon my face, and there was that after-sense of resignation which follows a nervous outbreak, did I upbraid myself for a weakling, and set to think out plans for my release. I had no compass, but, taking the north through the "pointers," I tried to make out the course in which I was drifting; yet this, I must confess, was a hopeless task. I thought that the boat was being carried by a steady current; yet whether the current set towards the land or away from it, I could not tell.
When a couple of hours had passed, and I could see the yacht no longer, I took a new consolation in the thought that I must, after all, be in the track of steamers bound out from, or to, New York; and in this hope I covered myself in the tarpaulins and lay down again to shield myself from the wind which blew with much sharpness as the night grew. I did not sleep, but lay half-dazed for an hour or more, and was roused only at a curious light which flashed above me in the sky. Its first aspect led me to the conclusion that I saw a reflection of the Aurora; but the second flash altered the opinion. The light was clearly focussed, being a volume of intensely bright, white rays which passed right above me with slow and guided motion, and then stopped altogether, almost fixed upon the jolly-boat. I knew then what it was, and I sat up to see the great beams of a man-of-war's search-light, showing an arc of the water almost as clear as by the sun's power. The vessel itself I could not make out; but I feared at once that fate had sent me straight to the nameless ship; and that the very misfortune I had thought to have undone was brought home to me. Yet I could not take one step to defend myself, and must perforce drift on, to what end I knew not.
The light shone in all its brightness for some five minutes; then it died away suddenly, and on the spot whence it had come I could just distinguish the dark hull of a steamer. To my vast consolation, she had two funnels and three masts, and I remembered that Black's boat had but one funnel and two masts, so that good fortune seemed to have come to me at last. Over-delighted with the discovery, I stood up at my risk in the jolly-boat and waved my arms wildly; when, as if in answer, the search-light flashed out again and bathed me in its refulgent beams. Some moments, long moments to me, passed in feverish conjecture; and then in the pathway of the light I saw in all distinctness the outline of a long-boat, fully manned, and she was coming straight to me. There could be no more doubt of it; I had passed through much suffering, but it was all child's play to the "might have been"; and in the reaction I laughed aloud like an hysterical woman, and blushed to remember those great tears which had rolled over my face not an hour gone. And all the time I never took my eyes from the boat; but feasted on it as a beggar-child feasts in imagination on the gauds of a groaning table. Its progress seemed slow, wofully slow; the men in it made me no manner of signal, never gave an answer to my erratic hand-waving; but, what was of more consequence, they came in a bee-line towards me, and the radiating light never moved once whilst they rowed. In the end, I myself broke the silence, shouting lustily to them, but getting no answer until I had repeated the call thrice. The fourth cry, loud and in something desperate, brought the response so eagerly awaited; but when I recognised the voice of him who then hailed me I fell down again in my boat with a heart-stricken burst of sorrow, for the voice was the Irishman's, and Four-Eyes spoke—
"Avast hailin', young 'un," he cried; "we ain't agoin' to part along o' your society no more, don't you be frettin'."
They dragged me into their boat, and taking my own in tow, they rowed rapidly to the distant steamer, on whose deck I stood presently; but not without profound fear, for I knew that at last I was a prisoner on the nameless ship.
CHAPTER XIV.
A CABIN IN SCARLET.
There was light from six lanterns, held by giant negroes, to greet me when I had mounted the ladder and was at last on the deck of the great ship; but none of the men spoke a word, nor could I see their faces. Of those who had brought me from the jolly-boat, I recognised two besides "Four-Eyes" as men whom I had seen in Paris, but the Irishman appeared to be the captain of them; and, in lack of other leader, he spoke when all were aboard, but it was in a monosyllable. "Aft!" he said, looking round to see if anyone else were near; and one of them silently touched me upon the shoulder, and I followed him along a narrow strip of iron deck, past a great turret which reared itself above me, and again by the covered forms of quick-firing guns. We descended a short ladder to a lower deck; and so to the companion way, and to a narrow passage in which were many doors. One of these he opened, and motioned me to enter, when the door was closed noiselessly behind me, and I found myself alone.
My first feeling was one of intense surprise. I had looked to enter a prison; but, if that were a prison, then were lack of liberty shorn of half its terrors. The cabin was not large, but one more artistic in effect was never built. Hung all round with poppy-coloured silk, the same material made curtains