men rowed with a will,
and scarcely twenty minutes elapsed ere we were scraping along the side
of a vessel of some size, and then came to a stop at foot of a
boarding-ladder.

CHAPTER XXI

ON BOARD THE SEA GULL

The Captain--for so I must call him--went up first, after hailing the
deck in French, and receiving some answer. Then, under Herman's
orders, I was hustled roughly to my feet, and bundled aboard. My head
still reeled dizzily, and the two men gripping my arms, hurried me over
the rail so swiftly my first impressions were extremely vague. I knew
the sides of the vessel were painted a dull gray, as nearly an
invisible color as could be conceived; I recall the sharp sheer of her
bow, the clearness of her lines, and the low sweep of her rail. Less
than a 1,000 tons burden, I thought, and then, as my eyes swept aloft,
and along the decks, I knew her for either a private yacht, or tropic
fruit steamer.

"First stateroom, second cabin," said a new voice, sharply. "Lively
now."

"Shall we unloose the ropes, sir?"

"Yes; fasten the door, and leave a guard. Stow away the boat,
Broussard. Everything ready, Captain."

I went down a broad stairway, shining brass rails on either side, which
led to a spacious after-cabin. A table extended its full length,
already set for a meal, and a round-faced negro, in white serving
jacket, grinned at me, as the men pressed me between them into a narrow
passage leading forward. A moment later I was unceremoniously thrust
into a small apartment on the right, the ropes about my wrists
loosened, and the door shut and locked behind me. For perhaps five
minutes I lay where I had been so unceremoniously dropped, weakened by
loss of blood, and dazed by the rapidity of events. I found it hard to
adjust my faculties to this new situation. I knew what had occurred,
but into whose hands I had fallen, and what was the purpose of this
outrage, was beyond my comprehension. One thing, however, was
sufficiently clear--these men were playing for big stakes, and would
hesitate at nothing to accomplish their purpose. They had already
killed without remorse, and that I still survived was itself a mere
accident. Yet the very fact that I lived yielded me fresh confidence,
a fatalistic belief that my life had thus been spared for a specific
purpose. It might yet be my privilege to foil these villains, and
rescue Mrs. Henley. It was my belief she was also on board this
vessel. I