Travers caught a glimpse of the man who had held him up, a sullen-faced, skinny individual with a heavy black beard and watery blue eyes. From his stained white uniform evidently an officer of the Atlantis. He was grinning with amusement as Steinberger tortured his captive.
The German bent and slapped Travers’ face. “So, Melita give you the gun, eh? And I suppose she told you about her confounded sister and me?
I’ll get that—! I’ll break her now.… You, I’ll see you later!”
Travers kept his teeth together to prevent him crying out, and the hot rage within him flamed and leaped. He wished he had shot the German and not waited to talk. He scarce gave heed to Steinberger’s words about Melita’s sister, for he had well-nigh forgotten her. But the mention of Melita herself, of getting even with her.…
Travers squirmed and writhed and tugged at his bonds. Steinberger laughed triumphantly as he straightened up and wiped his forehead with a hand that still trembled.
“I’ll bring Melita here, and you’ll see us married native fashion. Then I shall get rid of you and your talk of Bill Travers.”
Steinberger bundled his prisoner into a back room and locked him in, after a few parting kicks. Then buckling on his holsters, after dressing himself, he went down on the beach, talking energetically with Walters, the black-bearded officer, and planning the next few moves ahead in the game that had suddenly broken upon him.
CHAPTER VII
“I AM TIA KUA”
Travers lay and ached in every limb, and wondered what was to happen next. He cursed himself for being such a fool as not to let Everett and some of the men guard his rear while he talked to Steinberger. He had been confident of his strength, too blind with his own passions to plan coolly, and this was the result. Himself helpless, and Steinberger off to abduct Melita as he had abducted her sister.
He cursed as the sound of shots drifted through the open window. He guessed that Steinberger had found the waiting boat in the shallows. Would he kill every soul aboard the barque? There were no more shots, and for a long while there was silence, broken only by the lisp of the surf and the roar of the wind through the swaying palms. There was nothing left for Travers to do but wait, and waiting is hardest of all.
A murmur of voices came to the prostrate sailor’s ears after a while, and then a body of men came up the path from the beach and stamped into the next room. There were two heavy thuds and a groan, as some bulky objects were lowered to the floor. Then the party stamped out again with a few coarse jests, and the sound of crunching steps on the coral sand of the path died away.
Travers strained his ears toward the next room and caught a muttered oath. He sighed with relief. He would have recognized Everett’s voice anywhere.
“That you, Everett?” he called softly. There was silence for a moment.
“Yes. Is that you, sir?”
“Aye.… Are you hurt?”
“No, not much to speak of. Was rushed by about a dozen kanakas and handled pretty rough. They laid out the boat’s crew, and came aboard in the boat. I cut loose with a gun when I saw what was happening, but they were too quick.” The mate cursed bitterly again, and Travers could be heard writhing about the floor.
“I suppose you’re bound hand and foot?” said Travers hopelessly.
“Yes, sir.” The mate ceased trying to loosen his lashings. “Stevens is here, bound as well. He’s had a crack over the head, and is still unconscious.”
“What have they done with the crew?”
“Last I saw of them was swimming for the beach. The big fat man ordered them pitched overboard. He seems to have taken charge of the barque. Is that Steinberger?”
“That’s the man.… Say, I’m sorry you fellows are being dragged into this mess.”
“O. K., sir. It’s all in the day’s work.”
No more was said. Travers and the mate bent every energy to trying to free themselves. After a while the captain gave up and relaxed, breathless and sweating, his wrists bleeding from his struggles. A faint cutting noise caught his ear. After several attempts he jerked to an upright position and listened, his eyes roving round the bare-walled room. Then he caught sight of the thin knife blade moving in and out through the wall that separated the room from one farther back in the house.
After a while a sort of slot had been cut in the soft wood, and then a slim brown hand appeared and wrenched off large splinters, enlarging the slot until it was a considerable hole, large enough to crawl through. A brown body appeared and, after some trouble, squeezed into the room. A native girl crossed to the astonished and wondering Travers.
She placed her finger on her lips and knelt down, so that her mouth was against the man’s ear. He felt the tickle as her lips moved.
It was evident from her quivering that she was very much afraid and that she did not know Steinberger had gone. It was also evident she had had dealings with him, for her arms and breasts were bruised, as those of the girl Travers had seen on first entering the trader’s house.
“I hear him say Melita send you. I am Tia Kua,” she whispered, and then the sailor knew a vast relief. He grinned as much as his shattered face would allow, and nodded at his bonds.
The girl fumbled with the knots in the signal halliard, and in a few minutes Travers was free.
He rose to his feet, stretched his arms above his head, felt himself tenderly all over, and then patted the girl reassuringly on the shoulder. Ignoring her pleas for quiet, he then kicked down the door of the room that confined him, and quickly released Everett.
It was some time before the two of them could restore the unconscious Stevens to life, but eventually they managed it, and prepared to leave. They searched for weapons, and found plenty to their satisfaction. Travers came across a wallet of paper money in a drawer and handed it to Tia Kua, telling her to keep it as some sort of compensation for what she had been subjected to. Then all four of them went out on to the veranda and started down the path to the beach.
They had not gone more than a dozen yards when they met Walters, the black-bearded officer of the Atlantis. He had been left to watch the prisoners, and was not dreaming of attack. Rather he was anticipating a fine time alone with Steinberger’s girls and private stock of liquor. He looked up as he heard the sound of men’s shoes on the sand, and the cigar he was chewing dropped from his suddenly slack jaw. Then he came to a halt with a start. His hand went to his holster.
“That’s the blighter who swiped me with a belaying pin,” muttered the second mate thickly, still groggy from the terrible blow he had received. Pushing Travers aside, he fired before the other man had time to draw his gun. He dropped like a sack of flour, limply and as heavily, and lay still. Travers turned him over with his foot and noted the neat hole in the center of the forehead.
“No need to have finished him,” he commented indifferently, and went on.
There was no sign of the Wanderer in the lagoon. Travers climbed a tall tree and gazed around on the horizon. The barque was running swiftly before a north wind, and only her tops’ls were visible over the sea rim. After a long look Travers came down to the sand and rejoined his officers.
“Steinberger’s taken my ship,” he said quietly. He looked at Everett, Everett looked at him. Then both men turned and looked at the brig beached for careening half a mile away.
“We could launch her in a couple of hours, sir,” suggested the mate.
Travers nodded and tested the strength of the wind with a wet forefinger.
“We’ll take her. She can’t sail as fast as the Wanderer, but with this wind she won’t lag far behind.”
Followed still by Tia Kua, the three officers went down the beach to where