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At a quarter past seven, any curious person looking through the window of Captain Blunt's cabin would have seen an unusual sight. That gallant commander was sitting on the bed-place, with a glass of rum and water in his hand, and the handsome waiting-maid of Mrs. Vickers was seated on a stool by his side. At a first glance it was perceptible that the captain was very drunk.
Willey, Williams, Wilson, Yates 34. Nays Bayard, Buckalew, Davis, Dixon, Doolittle, Fowler, Henderson, Hendricks, Johnson, McCreery, Norton, Patterson of Tennessee, Ross, Saulsbury, Trumbull, Vickers 16.
As men do in such cases, he veiled his anger beneath an affectation of amusement. In order to show that he was not moved by the taunt, he smiled upon the taunter more graciously than ever. "Your daughter has her father's spirit, madam," said he to Mrs. Vickers, with a bow. Bates opened his mouth to listen. His ears were not large enough to take in the words of this complimentary convict.
There is no need to dwell upon the mental agonies of that miserable night. Perhaps, of all the five, the one least qualified to endure it realized the prospect of suffering most acutely. Mrs. Vickers lay-figure and noodle as she was had the keen instinct of approaching danger, which is in her sex a sixth sense. She was a woman and a mother, and owned a double capacity for suffering.
Vickers rose, with annoyance visible on his face, to draw the child away; and as he did so, she, gasping for breath, and sobbing with rage, wrenched her wrist free, and in a storm of childish passion struck her tormentor again and again. "Man!" she cried, with flaming eyes, "Let me go! I hate you! I hate you! I hate you!"
Miss Vickers replied for him, and the altercation that ensued was only quelled by the appearance of Mr. Stobell at the dining-room door. "Halloa! What do you want?" he inquired, staring at the intruders. "I've come for my share," said Miss Vickers, eyeing him fiercely. "Share?" repeated Mr. Stobell. "Share? Why, we've been shipwrecked. Haven't you heard?"
Captain Vickers was a broken-hearted man when he realized that his vessel was actually captured by a United States man-of-war. "Do you surrender, Captain Vickers?" said Mr. Birdwing, as he saluted the disconsolate commander. "How did you know my name?" demanded he gruffly. "That is of no consequence, Captain Vickers. You will oblige me by answering my question.
Playing with his eye-glasses, he began to talk lightly of other matters, as was his wont when he felt the coming of a storm. Vickers listened patiently, staring straight across his father to the wall, and when the Colonel came to a full pause, "Father, you said you were ready for me to take a vacation. I must go at once, to-day if possible. And, father, I can't come back."
The young puncher had been reluctant to come, and he was equally reluctant to go. "This here cayuse," he said to Vickers, when the latter instructed him to return to his outfit, saying that Miss Ruth thought she could now ride the pony without trouble, "is got a heap of devilment in him, yet which ought to come out." "Miss Ruth's got a fellow," said the range boss, in seeming irrelevance.
He was worrying about what you'd do all alone, and I told him I'd come." Captain Bowers looked at her helplessly. "I can manage very well by myself," he said, at last. "Chop your leg off, I s'pose?" retorted Miss Vickers, good-temperedly. "Oh, you men!" "And I'm not at home much while Miss Drewitt is away," added the captain.
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