CHAPTER V. LARRY DIVINE UNMASKED
"YES, Barbara, it is I," said Mr. Divine; "and thank God that I amhere to do what little any man may do against this band of murderingpirates."
"But, Larry," cried the girl, in evident bewilderment, "how did you cometo be aboard this ship? How did you get here? What are you doing amongstsuch as these?"
"I am a prisoner," replied the man, "just as are you. I think theyintend holding us for ransom. They got me in San Francisco. Slugged meand hustled me aboard the night before they sailed."
"Where are they going to take us?" she asked.
"I do not know," he replied, "although from something I have overheardof their conversations I imagine that they have in mind some distantisland far from the beaten track of commerce. There are thousands suchin the Pacific that are visited by vessels scarce once in a century.There they will hold us until they can proceed with the ship to somepoint where they can get into communication with their agents in theStates. When the ransom is paid over to these agents they will returnfor us and land us upon some other island where our friends can find us,or leaving us where we can divulge the location of our whereabouts tothose who pay the ransom."
The girl had been looking intently at Mr. Divine during theirconversation.
"They cannot have treated you very badly, Larry," she said. "You are aswell groomed and well fed, apparently, as ever."
A slight flush mounting to the man's face made the girl wonder a bitthough it aroused no suspicion in her mind.
"Oh, no," he hastened to assure her, "they have not treated me at allbadly--why should they? If I die they can collect no ransom on me. Itis the same with you, Barbara, so I think you need apprehend no harshtreatment."
"I hope you are right, Larry," she said, but the hopelessness of her airrather belied any belief that aught but harm could come from captivitywith such as those who officered and manned the Halfmoon.
"It seems so remarkable," she went on, "that you should be a prisonerupon the same boat. I cannot understand it. Why only a few days ago wereceived and entertained a friend of yours who brought a letter from youto papa--the Count de Cadenet."
Again that telltale flush mantled the man's cheek. He cursed himselfinwardly for his lack of self-control. The girl would have his wholesecret out of him in another half-hour if he were not more careful.
"They made me do that," he said, jerking his thumb in the generaldirection of Skipper Simms' cabin. "Maybe that accounts for theirbringing me along. The 'Count de Cadenet' is a fellow named Theriere,second mate of this ship. They sent him to learn your plans; when youexpected sailing from Honolulu and your course. They are all crooks andvillains. If I hadn't done as they bid they would have killed me."
The girl made no comment, but Divine saw the contempt in her face.
"I didn't know that they were going to do this. If I had I'd have diedbefore I'd have written that note," he added rather lamely.
The girl was suddenly looking very sad. She was thinking of BillyMallory who had died in an effort to save her. The mental comparison shewas making between him and Mr. Divine was not overly flattering to thelatter gentleman.
"They killed poor Billy," she said at last. "He tried to protect me."
Then Mr. Divine understood the trend of her thoughts. He tried to findsome excuse for his cowardly act; but with the realization of the truecowardliness and treachery of it that the girl didn't even guess heunderstood the futility of seeking to extenuate it. He saw that thechances were excellent that after all he would be compelled to resort toforce or threats to win her hand at the last.
"Billy would have done better to have bowed to the inevitable as Idid," he said. "Living I am able to help you now. Dead I could not haveprevented them carrying out their intentions any more than Billy has,nor could I have been here to aid you now any more than he is. I cannotsee that his action helped you to any great extent, brave as it was."
"The memory of it and him will always help me," she answered quietly."They will help me to bear whatever is before me bravely, and, when thetime comes, to die bravely; for I shall always feel that upon the otherside a true, brave heart is awaiting me."
The man was silent. After a moment the girl spoke again. "I think Iwould rather be alone, Larry," she said. "I am very unhappy and nervous.Possibly I could sleep now."
With a bow he turned and left the cabin.
For weeks the Halfmoon kept steadily on her course, a little south ofwest. There was no material change in the relations of those aboardher. Barbara Harding, finding herself unmolested, finally acceded to therepeated pleas of Mr. Divine, to whose society she had been driven byloneliness and fear, and appeared on deck frequently during the daylightwatches. Here, one afternoon, she came face to face with Therierefor the first time since her abduction. The officer lifted his capdeferentially; but the girl met his look of expectant recognition witha cold, blank stare that passed through and beyond him as though he hadbeen empty air.
A tinge of color rose to the man's face, and he continued on his way fora moment as though content to accept her rebuff; but after a step or twohe turned suddenly and confronted her.
"Miss Harding," he said, respectfully, "I cannot blame you for thefeeling of loathing and distrust you must harbor toward me; but incommon justice I think you should hear me before finally condemning."
"I cannot imagine," she returned coldly, "what defense there can be forthe cowardly act you perpetrated."
"I have been utterly deceived by my employers," said Theriere, hasteningto take advantage of the tacit permission to explain which her replycontained. "I was given to understand that the whole thing was to be buta hoax--that I was taking part in a great practical joke that Mr. Divinewas to play upon his old friends, the Hardings and their guests. Untilthey wrecked and deserted the Lotus in mid-ocean I had no idea thatanything else was contemplated, although I felt that the matter, evenbefore that event, had been carried quite far enough for a joke.
"They explained," he continued, "that before sailing you had expressedthe hope that something really exciting and adventurous would befallthe party--that you were tired of the monotonous humdrum oftwentieth-century existence--that you regretted the decadence of piracy,and the expunging of romance from the seas.
"Mr. Divine, they told me, was a very wealthy young man, to whom youwere engaged to be married, and that he could easily afford thegreat expense of the rather remarkable hoax we were supposed to beperpetrating. I saw no harm in taking part in it, especially as I knewnothing of the supposititious purpose of the cruise until just before wereached Honolulu. Before that I had been led to believe that it was buta pleasure trip to the South Pacific that Mr. Divine intended.
"You see, Miss Harding, that I have been as badly deceived as you. Won'tyou let me help to atone for my error by being your friend? I can assureyou that you will need one whom you can trust amongst this shipload ofscoundrels."
"Who am I to believe?" cried the girl. "Mr. Divine assures me that he,too, has been forced into this affair, but by threats of death ratherthan deception."
The expression on Mr. Theriere's face was eloquent of sarcasticincredulity.
"How about the note of introduction that I carried to your father fromMr. Divine?" asked Theriere.
"He says that he was compelled to write it at the point of a revolver,"replied the girl.
"Come with me, Miss Harding," said the officer. "I think that I may beable to convince you that Mr. Divine is not on any such bad terms withSkipper Simms as would be the case were his story to you true."
As he spoke he started toward the companionway leading to the officers'cabins. Barbara Harding hesitated at the top of the stairway.
"Have no fear, Miss Harding," Theriere reassured her. "Remember thatI am your friend and that I am merely attempting to prove it to yourentire satisfaction. You owe it to yourself to discover as soon aspossible who your friends are aboard this ship, and who your enemies."
"Very well," said the girl. "I can be i
n no more danger one place aboardher than another."
Theriere led her directly to his own cabin, cautioning her to silencewith upraised forefinger. Softly, like skulking criminals, they enteredthe little compartment. Then Theriere turned and closed the door,slipping the bolt noiselessly as he did so. Barbara watched him, herheart beating rapidly with fear and suspicion.
"Here," whispered Theriere, motioning her toward his berth. "I havefound it advantageous to know what goes on beyond this partition. Youwill find a small round hole near the head of the berth, about a footabove the bedding. Put your ear to it and listen--I think Divine is inthere now."
The girl, still frightened and fearful of the man's intentions, did,nevertheless, as he bid. At first she could make out nothing beyond thepartition but a confused murmur of voices, and the clink of glass, asof the touch of the neck of a bottle against a goblet. For a moment sheremained in tense silence, her ear pressed to the tiny aperture. Then,distinctly, she heard the voice of Skipper Simms.
"I'm a-tellin' you, man," he was saying, "that there wan't nothin' elseto be done, an' I'm a-gettin' damn sick o' hearin' you finding fault allthe time with the way I been a-runnin' o' this little job."
"I'm not finding fault, Simms," returned another voice which the girlrecognized immediately as Divine's; "although I do think that it was amistake to so totally disable the Lotus as you did. Why, how on earthare we ever to return to civilization if that boat is lost? Had she beensimply damaged a little, in a way that they could themselves have fixedup, the delay would have been sufficient to permit us to escape, andthen, when Miss Harding was returned in safety to her father, after ourmarriage, they would have been so glad to be reunited that he easilycould have been persuaded to drop the matter. Then another thing; youintended to demand a ransom for both Miss Harding and myself, to carryout the fiction of my having been stolen also--how can you do that ifMr. Harding be dead? And do you suppose for a moment that Miss Hardingwill leave a single stone unturned to bring the guilty to justice if anyharm has befallen her father or his guests? If so you do not know her aswell as I."
The girl turned away from the partition, her face white and drawn, hereyes inexpressibly sad. She rose to her feet, facing Theriere.
"I have heard quite enough, thank you, Mr. Theriere," she said.
"You are convinced then that I am your friend?" he asked.
"I am convinced that Mr. Divine is not," she replied non-committally.
She took a step toward the door. Theriere stood looking at her. She wasunquestionably very good to look at. He could not remember ever havingseen a more beautiful girl. A great desire to seize her in his armsswept over the man. Theriere had not often made any effort to harnesshis desires. What he wanted it had been his custom to take--by forceif necessary. He took a step toward Barbara Harding. There was a suddenlight in his eyes that the girl had not before seen there, and shereached quickly toward the knob of the door.
Theriere was upon her, and then, quickly, he mastered himself, for herecalled his coolly thought-out plan based on what Divine had told himof that clause in the will of the girl's departed grandparent whichstipulated that the man who shared the bequest with her must be thechoice of both herself and her father. He could afford to bide his time,and play the chivalrous protector before he essayed the role of lover.
Barbara had turned a half-frightened look toward him as he advanced--indoubt as to his intentions.
"Pardon me, Miss Harding," he said; "the door is bolted--let me unlatchit for you," and very gallantly he did so, swinging the portal wide thatshe might pass out. "I feared interruption," he said, in explanation ofthe bolt.
In silence they returned to the upper deck. The intoxication of suddenpassion now under control, Theriere was again master of himself andready to play the cold, calculating, waiting game that he had determinedupon. Part of his plan was to see just enough of Miss Harding to insurea place in her mind at all times; but not enough to suggest that he wasforcing himself upon her. Rightly, he assumed that she would appreciatethoughtful deference to her comfort and safety under the harrowingconditions of her present existence more than a forced companionshipthat might entail too open devotion on his part. And so he raised hiscap and left her, only urging her to call upon him at any time that hemight be of service to her.
Left alone the girl became lost in unhappy reflections, and in theharrowing ordeal of attempting to readjust herself to the knowledge thatLarry Divine, her lifelong friend, was the instigator of the atrociousvillainy that had been perpetrated against her and her father. She foundit almost equally difficult to believe that Mr. Theriere was so muchmore sinned against than sinning as he would have had her believe. Andyet, did his story not sound even more plausible than that of Divinewhich she had accepted before Theriere had made it possible for her toknow the truth? Why, then, was it so difficult for her to believe theFrenchman? She could not say, but in the inmost recesses of her heartshe knew that she mistrusted and feared the man.
As she stood leaning against the rail, buried deep in thought, BillyByrne passed close behind her. At sight of her a sneer curled his lip.How he hated her! Not that she ever had done aught to harm him, butrather because she represented to him in concrete form all that he hadlearned to hate and loathe since early childhood.
Her soft, white skin; her shapely hands and well-cared-for nails;her trim figure and perfectly fitting suit all taunted him with theirsuperiority over him and his kind. He knew that she looked down upon himas an inferior being. She was of the class that addressed those in hiswalk of life as "my man." Lord, how he hated that appellation!
The intentness of his gaze upon her back had the effect so often notedby the observant, and suddenly aroused from the lethargy of hermisery the girl swung around to meet the man's eyes squarely upon her.Instantly she recognized him as the brute who had killed Billy Mallory.If there had been hate in the mucker's eyes as he looked at the girl, itwas as nothing by comparison with the loathing and disgust which sprangto hers as they rested upon his sullen face.
So deep was her feeling of contempt for this man, that the suddenappearance of him before her startled a single exclamation from her.
"Coward!" came the one word, involuntarily, from her lips.
The man's scowl deepened menacingly. He took a threatening step towardher.
"Wot's dat?" he growled. "Don't get gay wit me, or I'll black dem lampsfer yeh," and he raised a heavy fist as though to strike her.
The mucker had looked to see the girl cower before his threatenedblow--that would have been ample atonement for her insult, and wouldhave appealed greatly to his Kelly-gang sense of humor. Many a timehad he threatened women thus, for the keen enjoyment of hearing theirscreams of fright and seeing them turn and flee in terror. When they hadheld their ground and opposed him, as some upon the West Side had feltsufficiently muscular to do, the mucker had not hesitated to "hand themone." Thus only might a man uphold his reputation for bravery in thevicinage of Grand Avenue.
He had looked to see this girl of the effete and effeminate upper classswoon with terror before him; but to his intense astonishment she butstood erect and brave before him, her head high held, her eyes cold andlevel and unafraid. And then she spoke again.
"Coward!" she said.
Billy almost struck her; but something held his hand. What, he could notunderstand. Could it be that he feared this slender girl? And at thisjuncture, when the threat of his attitude was the most apparent,Second Officer Theriere came upon the scene. At a glance he took in thesituation, and with a bound had sprung between Billy Byrne and BarbaraHarding.
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