e
bark swung gently, still retaining steerage-way, but with not wind
enough aloft to flap the sails. The silence and gloom was most
depressing.

"Is there a hand at the wheel, Watkins?"

"No sir; it's lashed."

"And the quarter-boat?"

"There, sir, below the mizzen-chains."

"Then there is nothing more to keep us aboard lads. Stow yourselves
away and hang on; I'll wait here until you are all over."

They faded away into the mist, dim spectral figures, and I remained
alone, listening anxiously for some hostile sound from below. Had I
chosen the right course? I was not altogether sure, yet we had gone
too far now to decide on any other. Perhaps if I had called on those
men up on deck, who had loaded guns, we might have forced the escaped
prisoners back into their place of confinement, and thus kept control
of the vessel. Yet at that it would only mean a few hours more on
board amid constant danger of revolt. It might have enabled us to
salvage the gold hidden below, but I was not greatly concerned for
this, as my one and only purpose was the preservation of Dorothy. The
men might prove ugly when they awoke to the loss, but I had little
fear of them, once we were at sea in the small boats, and their lives
depended on my seamanship. Unless a storm arose our lives were in no
great peril, although I would have preferred being closer to the coast
before casting adrift. I wondered what could be the meaning of that
silence below. True the fellows were leaderless and defeated, yet they
were desperate spirits, and fully aware that they must attain the open
deck in order to recapture the vessel. They would not remain quiet
long, and once discovering our retirement, would swarm up the stairs
animated with fresh courage. Satisfied that the lads were safely over
the rail and the decks clear, I turned toward the ship's side. As I
did so a yell reached my ears from the blackness below--the hounds had
found voice.

I ran through the fog in the direction the others had disappeared, and
had taken scarcely three steps when I collided against the form of a
man, whose presence was not even noticed until we came together. Yet
he must have been there expectant and ready, for a quick knife thrust
slashed the front of my jacket, bringing a spurt of blood as the blade
was jerked back. It was a well-aimed blow at the heart, missing its
mark only because of my outstretched arms, and the rapidity of my
advance. Even as my fingers gripped th