"What has become of Philips?" I asked, remembering that I had not seen him since the row began.
"Thought I saw him run down stairs when the beggars poured in on us here, sir," Alderson answered.
Later the poor fellow was found in his berth, trembling like an aspen leaf. He had locked his door and buried his face in the pillows.
A shock of red hair above a very white face appeared at the head of the companionway. "Is—is it all over?" gasped a small voice.
"Yes, Jimmie, right now it is. And you'll notice that we're still sticking to the saddle, son, and not pulling leather either," observed the plainsman cheerfully.
"I—I didn't know it would be like this," murmured the boy. "I thought——" His voice tailed out and he dropped limply into a seat, his fascinated eyes fixed on my bleeding arm.
Yeager clasped a hand on the boy's shoulder.
"Brace up, kid. The first round is ours, strong. We've had to hustle, but I reckon we've given them a hectic time of it. They'll not bother us for quite some hours. Captain Bothwell is busy explaining to a real sore outfit just why his plans miscarried."
"Is Mr. Sedgwick—killed?" asked the boy, swallowing hard.
I laughed faintly.
"He's worth a dozen dead men yet, Jimmie."
And to prove it I fell back among the pillows, unconscious.
Chapter XV.
The Morning After
My opening eyes fell upon Evelyn. She was putting the last touches to the bandage on my arm, which was already dressed and bound. Evidently I had been unconscious some time.
"It's all right. We won," were my first words to her.
"I know," she answered with a faint glow of color. "Thanks to the brave men who risked their lives for us!"
"Poor Williams was killed, and Morgan was hurt. Has his wound been looked to?"
"On the job now," sang out Yeager. "When I get through with him he'll be as good as new. Eh, Morgan?"
"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir," returned that impassive individual.
"Where's Sam?" I asked.
"Back at the wheel."
"Alone?"
"Alderson is with him. Don't worry about them. You couldn't dynamite that bunch of pirates on deck just now. There'll be nothing doing until they get Dutch courage from the bottle. We jolted them a heap harder than they did us," Tom rejoined lightly.
It was all very well for him to keep up his cheerful talk to raise the spirits of our friends, but I did not forget the fact that since the beginning of hostilities we had lost as many men as they had in killed, and only one less in wounded. To be sure, with the exception of Dugan, their disabled were in worse condition than ours. Morgan had only a scratch, and a day or two of rest would set me right.
"Time is fighting for us too, you bet," continued Tom briskly. "We're a unit, and I'll bet they're pulling already every which way. We've got them traveling south, Miss Wallace."
Perhaps his cheerful, matter-of-fact talk was the best possible tonic for the depression which had settled upon us. I could not help think what a blessing it was that we had picked up at Los Angeles this competent frontiersman whose strong, brown hands could make or dress a wound with equal skill.
It was plain to me that during the next few hours I would not be of much use. Out of ten thousand, Tom Yeager was the one I would have picked to take charge of the defense in my absence.
When a few minutes later the beat of the screw began again the sound of it was like wine to me. It meant that, for the present, the mutineers had had enough. They would join in a tacit truce while the yacht was being worked south.
"Help Mr. Sedgwick down to his cabin, Morgan, and then both of you turn in for a few hours' sleep. We'll look out for trouble. Won't we, Jimmie? You and I and Billie Blue, eh?"
"Yes, Mr. Yeager."
"You'll call us if another attack threatens?" I asked.
"Sure."
The steady throb—throb—throb of the propeller was again shaking the yacht as she took up her journey. This might be a ruse to throw us off our guard, but I did not think so. The enemy was badly demoralized, and the chances were that Bothwell would welcome a chance to whip his forces into shape again.
"Is the door from the galley to the main deck locked and nailed up, Billie?" I asked of the flunky.
"Yes, sir."
"Nail planks across the window too. Philips will help you get dinner if you can find him. I'll expect you to see that our party is well fed."
"Yes, sir," the young fellow promised.
"You must go to your room at a moment's notice, Miss Wallace. Have Philips nail up your porthole. You need not be a bit afraid. We hold a very safe position at present. Get all the sleep you can to-night."
"That's good advice, Mr. Sedgwick. Take it yourself," she returned with a little flicker of a wan smile.
For an instant her hand, warm and firm, rested in mine. If I had not been sure of my love before, there was no uncertainty now. While her brave eyes met mine I seemed to drown fathoms deep in the blue of them. Trouble was what I read in them, but part of that trouble was for me. I gloried in that certainty.
She might not love me—it was presumptuous to suppose she did—but at least I held a place in her regard. That was the thought I carried with me down-stairs, and it stayed pleasantly with me till I fell asleep in spite of the pain in my arm.
About nine o'clock I was awakened by a knock on the door. Philips had brought me dinner on a tray.
His eye would not meet mine. He was ashamed because he had shown the white feather in the scrimmage.
"I—I've got a wife and three little children, sir," he blurted out before he left.
I nodded pleasantly at him.
"You're going to see them again. But you must help us beat those ruffians. You see we can do it. We've done it once."
"Yes, sir. I—hope to do better next time."
"I'm sure you will, Philips."
We shook hands on it.
I must have fallen asleep again almost immediately. When I opened my eyes it was day. I pushed the electric bell. Philips presently appeared.
"All well?" I asked him.
"Yes, sir. No more trouble. The yacht is still on her course. Doing about nine knots I should judge."
"Heard from Dugan this morning?"
"He isn't doing just what you could call first rate, sir. I think he is delirious. Miss Wallace and Miss Berry are taking care of him by turns."
"And Morgan?"
"Quite all right, sir. Your arm must be stiff. Shall I shave you this morning? I used to be a barber, sir."
"Thanks. If you have time."
Breakfast was served in the English fashion, for it was necessary to keep some one on guard all the time. The Arizonian was making play with a platter of bacon and fried eggs when I joined him.
"How d'ye do? Ready for the round-up again?" he asked cheerfully, with his mouth full.
"My arm's stiff, and when I move there's a pain jumps in it. Otherwise I'm fit as a fiddle. Anything new in the way of trouble?"
"Not a thing. We've arranged a code of signals