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Ravens croaked within him; misshapen imps whispered evil omens; his spirit sat in gloom. Christobal, well knowing how the demons of doubt and despair were afflicting Courtenay, followed him to the upper deck. Boyle was in the chart-house and Tollemache.
During the five years with the Alaculof tribe he had never seen a fire lit there before. That, in itself, was a fact sinister and alarming. Suarez had sufficient tact not to make this statement publicly. He told Christobal, and the doctor passed on the information to the captain. Both men went to the poop with their glasses, and carefully examined the coast line.
Christobal and Walker shared the next one; by four o'clock it would be daylight, so the doctor was retiring early to his cabin when he met Elsie, by chance as it seemed. She was self-possessed, even smiling, with a certain dour serenity. "The day's doings have tired me," she said. "I am off to bed. Will you rap on my door soon after dawn?" "Yes," he replied, secretly marveling at her air.
Otter Creek was not so far distant that canoes quitting its shelter could not be seen with the naked eye. She counted sixteen putting forth in a cluster, and they all made for the adventurous life-boat. "That is exactly what our captain expected," Christobal was ready to assure her. "He was certain he would reach the head of the bay before the Indians awoke to the meaning of his scheme.
But Boyle's pallid face lit up so brightly when the captain stood by his side that it was hard not to indulge him to some extent. "Huh," he said, his gruff voice strong as ever. "Christobal was not humbugging me when he assured me you were all right. Where are we?" "In a small bay on the east of Hanover Island. I have not taken any observations yet, and there is no hurry, old chap.
Sixteen hours ago, she and Christobal were actually participating in the defense of the ship's last stronghold; now, the broad decks resembled the inner spaces of some impregnable fort, while the war was being carried into the enemy's territory. Yet the mortal peril which overshadowed them was threatening as ever. Life seemed to be doled out grudgingly, by minutes.
"But what we must do is this: Twenty miles south on the San Christobal Arroyo there is a lonely ranch-house on the old Narveo estate, a forgotten place, but it is a veritable fort, built a hundred years ago, when every house here was a fort. To-morrow at daybreak you must start with Eloise and Sister Anita down there. I will see Father Josef later and tell him where I have sent you.
"Let me be the first to congratulate you," she cried, her cheeks mantling with a rush of color and her lips quivering with excitement. "How wonderful of you to bring the ship through all those awful reefs and things! No; you must not say you have done nothing marvelous. Dr. Christobal has told me everything. Next to Providence, Captain Courtenay, we owe our lives to you."
I beseech you, señor captain, not to give me up to them, but rather to send a bullet through my miserable heart." "Tell him to calm himself," said Courtenay, coolly, when Christobal had translated this flow of guttural Spanish. "He has no cause to fear them now; let him nerve himself, and show a bold front. A palaver is the best thing that can happen. We must display all the arms we possess.
"He had a narrow escape; the knife just grazed the spinal cord. The shock to the dorsal nerves induced temporary paralysis, and that rather misled me. He is much better now. Under ordinary conditions he would be able to get about in a few days. As it is, he will probably live as long as any of us." Christobal waved a hand towards the external void.
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