ill be a sweet revenge."

"You mean," I asked, dimly grasping his purpose, "that you propose
buying me when we reach shore?"

"Why not? A most excellent plan; and I owe it all to a brat I met in
London. Egad! it will be some joke to tell when next I visit England.
'Twill count for more than were I to tweak the Duke's nose."

I stopped his laughter, smiling myself grimly in the darkness.

"A very noble plan for revenge," I admitted, enjoying the swift
check-mating of his game. "And one which I am not likely to forget.
Unfortunately you come too late. It happens, Senor, that I am already
safely indentured to Roger Fairfax."

"To Fairfax? She told you that?"

"Who told me can make no difference. At least I am out of your hands."

I turned away, but he called angrily after me:

"Do not feel so sure of that, Carlyle! I am in the game yet."

I made no answer, already despising the fellow so thoroughly as to
ignore his threat. He still stood there, a mere shadow, as I
disappeared down the ladder, and I could imagine the expression on his
face.

CHAPTER IV

THE SHORES OF VIRGINIA

I rested quietly in my berth for a long time, staring blankly up at
the dark deck above, unable to sleep, and endeavoring to figure out
the true meaning of all these occurrences. It began to rain, torrents
sweeping the planks overhead, while vivid flashes of lightning
illumined the open hatch, before it could be hastily closed, revealing
the squalidness of the interior in which we were quartered. Then
someone, growling and stumbling through the darkness, lit a slush
lantern, dangling from a blackened beam, its faint flicker barely
discernible. The hole became foul and sickening, men tossing and
groaning in their uneasy sleep, or prowling about seeking some measure
of comfort. There was no severe wind accompanying the storm, and the
flurry of rain soon swept by, leaving an ugly swell behind, but
enabling the guard to again uplift the hatches.

Immersed as I was in thought, all this left but small impress on me. I
felt that I could understand the interest exhibited by Dorothy
Fairfax, and, greatly as I already admired her, I was not egotist
enough to even imagine that her effort to serve me had basis in any
personal attraction. My connection with Bucclough, coupled with her
uncle's report of my conviction, had very naturally aroused the girl's
sympathy in my behalf. She felt a desire to lighten my sorrows as
much as possible, an