The Red Rat's Daughter

MacAndrew crossed the hut and bent over the man lying on the bed. He was still sleeping.

"Poor beggar! he is quite played out," said the other. "It will be a long time before he will forget his tramp with me. I had to carry him the last three miles on my back, like a kiddy; and in that thick scrub it's no joke, I can assure you."

Though Browne was quite able to agree with him, he did not give the matter much consideration. He was thinking of Katherine and of the meeting, that was shortly to take place between the father and daughter. At last, after what seemed an infinity of waiting, the hands of his watch stood at midnight. Having acquainted MacAndrew with his intention, he took up a rocket, opened the door of the hut, and went outside. To his intense relief, the fog had drawn off, and the stars were shining brightly. Not a sound was to be heard, save the sighing of the wind in the trees behind the hut, and the clinking of the ice on the northern side of the bay. To the southward it was all clear water, and it was there that Mason had arranged to send the boat.

"To be or not to be?" murmured Browne, as he struck the match and applied it to the rocket. There was an instant's pause, and then a tongue of fire flashed into the darkness, soaring up and up, until it broke in a myriad of coloured lights overhead. It seemed to Browne, while he waited and watched, as if the beating of his heart might be heard at least a mile away. Then suddenly, from far out at sea, came a flash of light, which told him that his signal had been observed.

"They see us," he cried in a tone of delight. "They are getting the boat under way by this time, I expect, and in less than an hour we shall be on board. We had better get ready as soon as possible." With that they turned into the hut once more, and MacAndrew shook the sleeping man upon the bed.

"Wake up, little father," he cried in Russian. "It's time for you to say good-bye to Saghalien."

The instantaneous obedience, which had so long been a habit with him, brought the man to his feet immediately. Browne, however, could see that he scarcely realized what was required of him.

"Come," said Browne, "it is time for us to be off. Your daughter is anxiously awaiting you."

"Ah, to be sure – to be sure," replied the other in French. "My dear daughter. Forgive me if I do not seem to realize that I shall see her so soon. Is it possible she will know me after all these long years? When last I saw her she was but a little child."

"Her heart, however, is the same," answered Browne. "I can assure you that she has treasured your memory as few daughters would have done. Indeed, it is to her, more than any one else, that you owe your escape. But for her endeavours you would be in Dui now. But let us be off; we are wasting our time talking here when we should be making ourselves scarce."

"But what about these things?" asked MacAndrew, pointing to the books on the table, the crockery on the shelf, and the hundred and one other things in the hut. "What do you intend doing with them?"

"I scarcely know," replied Browne. "The better plan would be for us to take with us what we can carry and leave the rest. If they are of no other use, they will at least give whoever finds them something to think about."

"I wish him joy of his guesses," rejoined MacAndrew, as he led the old man out of the hut.

Browne remained behind to put out the lamp. As he did so a smile passed over his face. How foolish it seemed to be taking precautions, when he would, in all human probability, never see the place again! The fire upon the hearth was burning merrily. Little by little it would grow smaller, the flames would die down, a mass of glowing embers would follow, then it would gradually grow black, and connection with the place would be done with for ever and a day. Outside it was brilliant starlight, and for this reason they were able easily to pick their way down the path towards the place where Captain Mason had promised to have the boat.

So weak was the old man, however, that it took something like half an hour to overcome even the short distance they had to go. He could scarcely have done as much had not MacAndrew and Browne lent him their support. At last they reached the water's edge, where, to their joy, they found the boat awaiting them.

"Is that you, Phillips?" inquired Browne.

"Yes, sir, it's me," the third mate replied. "Captain Mason sent us away directly your signal was sighted."

"That's right," said Browne. "Now, just keep your boat steady while we help this gentleman aboard."

The boat's crew did their best to keep her in position while MacAndrew and Browne lifted Monsieur Petrovitch in. It was a difficult business, but at last they succeeded; then, pushing her off, they started for the yacht. For some time not a word was spoken. MacAndrew had evidently his own thoughts to occupy him; Katherine's father sat in a huddled-up condition; while Browne was filled with a nervousness that he could neither explain nor dispel.

At last they reached the yacht and drew up at the foot of the accommodation-ladder. Looking up the side, Browne could see Captain Mason, Jimmy Foote, and Maas leaning over watching them. It had been previously arranged that the meeting between the father and daughter should take place in the deckhouse, not on the deck itself.

"Is he strong enough to walk up?" the captain inquired of Browne. "If not, shall I send a couple of hands down to carry him?"

"I think we can manage it between us," said Browne; and accordingly he and MacAndrew, assisted by the mate, lifted the sick man on to the ladder, and half-dragged, half-carried him up to the deck above.

"Where is Miss Petrovitch?" Browne asked, when they reached the deck.

"In the house, sir," the captain replied. "We thought she would prefer to be alone there. She knows that you have arrived."

"In that case I will take you to her at once," said Browne to the old man, and slipping his arm through his, he led him towards the place in question. When he pushed open the door he assisted the old man to enter; and, having done so, found himself face to face with Katherine. She was deadly pale, and was trembling violently. Madame Bernstein was also present; and, if such a thing were possible, the latter was perhaps the more agitated of the two. Indeed, Browne found his own voice failing him as he said, "Katherine, I have brought you your father!"

There was a moment's hesitation, though what occasioned it is difficult to say. Then Katherine advanced and kissed her father. She had often pictured this moment, and thought of the joy she would feel in welcoming him back to freedom. Now, however, that the moment had arrived it seemed as if she could say nothing.

"Father," she faltered at last, "thank Heaven you have escaped." She looked at him, and, as she did so, Browne noticed the change that came over her face. It was as if she had found herself confronted with some one she did not expect to see. And yet she tried hard not to let the others see her surprise.

"Katherine, my daughter," replied the old man, "do you remember me?"

"Should I be likely to forget?" answered Katherine. "Though I was such a little child when you went away, I can remember that terrible night perfectly."

Here Madame Bernstein interposed, with tears streaming down her face. "Stefan," she sobbed, "Heaven be thanked you have at last come back to us!"

Thinking it would be as well if he left them to themselves for a short time, Browne stepped out of the house on to the deck, and closed the door behind him. He found MacAndrew, Maas, and Jimmy Foote standing together near the saloon companion-ladder.

"Welcome back again," began Jimmy, advancing with outstretched hand. "By Jove! old man, you must have had a hard time of it. But you have succeeded in your undertaking, and that's the great thing, after all – is it not?"

"Yes, I have succeeded," returned Browne, in the tone of a man who is not quite certain whether he has or not. "Now, the question for our consideration is, what we ought to do. What do you say, MacAndrew; and you, Maas?"

"If I were in your place I would get away as soon as possible," answered the former.

"I agree with you," put in Jimmy. "By Jove! I do."

"I cannot say that I do," added Maas. "In the first place, you must remember where you are. This is an extremely dangerous coast about here, and if anything goes wrong and your boat runs ashore, the man you have come to rescue will be no better off than he was before. If I were in your place, Browne – and I'm sure Captain Mason will agree with me – I should postpone your departure until to-morrow morning. There's nothing like having plenty of daylight in matters of this sort."

Browne scarcely knew what to say. He was naturally very anxious to get away; at the same time he was quite aware of the dangers of the seas in which his boat was, just at that time. He accordingly went forward and argued it out with Mason, whom he found of very much the same opinion as Maas.

"We have not much to risk, sir, by waiting," said that gentleman; "and, as far as I can see, we've everything to gain. A very strong current sets from the northward; and, as you can see for yourself, a fog is coming up. I don't mind telling you, sir, I've no fancy for manoeuvring about here in the dark."

"Then you think it would be wiser for us to remain at anchor until daylight?" asked Browne.

"If you ask me to be candid with you," the skipper replied, "I must say I do, sir."

"Very good, then," answered Browne. "In that case we will remain." Without further discussion, he made his way to the smoking-room, where he announced to those assembled there, that the yacht would not get under way till morning.

"'Pon my word, Browne, I think you're right," continued Maas. "You don't want to run any risks, do you? You'll be just as safe here, if not safer, than you would be outside."

"I'm not so sure of that," retorted Jimmy; and then, for some reason not specified, a sudden silence fell upon the party.

A quarter of an hour later Browne made his way to the deck-house again. He found Katherine and her father alone together, the man fast asleep and the girl kneeling by his side.

"Dearest," said Katherine softly, as she rose and crossed the cabin to meet her lover, "I have not thanked you yet for all you have done for – for him and for me."

She paused towards the end of her speech, as if she scarcely knew how to express herself; and Browne, for whom her every action had some significance, was quick to notice it.

"What is the matter, dear?" he asked. "Why do you look so sadly at me?"

She was about to answer, but she changed her mind.

"Sad?" she murmured, as if surprised. "Why should I be sad? I should surely be the happiest girl in the world to-night."

"But you are not," he answered. "I can see you're unhappy. Come, dear, tell me everything. You are grieved, I suppose, at finding your father so changed? Is not that so?"

"Partly," she answered in a whisper; and then, for some reason of her own, she added quietly, "but Madame recognised him at once, though she had not seen him for so many years. My poor father, how much he has suffered!"

Browne condoled with her, and ultimately succeeded in inducing her to retire to her cabin, assuring her that MacAndrew and himself would in turns watch by her father's side until morning.

"How good you are!" she said, and kissed him softly. Then, with another glance at the huddled-up figure in the easy-chair, but without kissing him, as Browne had quite expected she would do, she turned and left the cabin.

It was just two o'clock, and a bitterly cold morning. Though Browne had declared that MacAndrew would share his vigil with him, he was not telling the truth, knowing that the other must be worn out after his travels of the last few days. For this reason he persuaded Jimmy to take him below, and to get him to bed at once. Then he himself returned to the deck-house, and set to work to make Katherine's father as comfortable as possible for the night.

Just after daylight Browne was awakened by a knocking at the door. He crossed and opened it. It proved to be the captain. He was plainly under the influence of intense excitement.

"I don't know how to tell you, sir," he said. "I assure you I would not have had it happened for worlds. I have never been so upset in my life by anything."

"But what has happened?" inquired Browne, with a sudden sinking at his heart. "Something has gone wrong in the engine-room," replied the captain, "and until it has been repaired it will be impossible for us to get under way."

At that instant the second officer appeared, and touched the captain on the shoulder, saying something in an undertone.

"What is it?" asked Browne. "What else is wrong?"

"He reports that a man-o'-war can be just descried upon the horizon, and he thinks she is a Russian!"

CHAPTER XXVII

The horror which greeted the announcement that a man-o'-war had made its appearance upon the horizon may be better imagined than described.

"By heaven, we have been trapped!" cried MacAndrew, as he ran out of the smoking-room in Browne's wake, and gazed out to sea.

They formed a small group in front of the door: Browne, MacAndrew, Maas, Jimmy Foote, the captain, and the chief-engineer. Day was scarcely born, yet the small black spot upon the horizon could be plainly descried by every one of the party, and was momentarily growing larger. Without doubt it was a man-o'-war. What was more to the point, she was coming up at a good rate of speed. The position was an eminently serious one, and what those on board the yacht had to decide was what should be done.

"If she's a Russian, we're in no end of a hole," said MacAndrew; "and, when you come to think of it, she's scarcely likely to belong to any other nationality."

"Let us come into the smoking-room and talk it over," replied Browne; and as he spoke he led the way into the room he mentioned. Once inside, they seated themselves, and fell to discussing the situation.

"We'll presume, for the sake of argument, that she is Russian," began Browne. "Now what is to be done? Mr. M'Cartney," he added, turning to the chief-engineer, "what was the cause of the breakdown in your department?"

"A bit of foul play, if I know anything about such things," replied the other. "Early this morning, or last night, somebody removed the main crosshead-pin of the high-pressure engine."

"With what result?" inquired Browne.

"That we're as helpless as a log, sir," answered the chief-engineer. "Until it has been replaced it would be useless for us to attempt to get any steam out of her."

"But surely you have some duplicate pins," said Browne a little testily. "Why not put one in, and then let us get ahead again without further loss of time?"

"For the simple reason, sir, that all the duplicates have been taken too," the old man returned. "Whoever worked the plot must have the run of the ship at his fingers'-ends. I only wish I could lay my hands upon him, that's all. I'd make him smart, or my name's not M'Cartney."

"Surely such an important point can easily be ascertained," remarked Maas. "Will you leave it to me to make inquiries?"

"Oh, don't you trouble," responded Browne. "I shall sift the matter myself later on." As he said this he noticed that Jimmy Foote had not entered the smoking-room with them. In an idle sort of a way he wondered at his absence.

"How long will it take you to repair the damage, do you think?" Browne inquired of the chief-engineer.

"Well, sir, it all depends upon circumstances," said that officer. "If we find the duplicate pins we can do it in less than an hour; if we cannot, it may take us twelve hours, and it may take us twenty-four."

"And how long do you think it will be before that boat comes up?" asked Browne, turning to the captain.

"Oh, a good hour at least, sir," the captain replied. "She has seen us; and I'm afraid it would be of no use our even thinking of trying to get away from her."

"But how do you know that she wants us?" Maas inquired. "Being aware of our own guilt, we naturally presume she knows it too. As Shakespeare says, 'Conscience doth make cowards of us all.'"

"I don't think there can be very much doubt, but that she's after us," said Browne lugubriously. "Her appearance at such a time is rather too much of a coincidence. Well, Mr. M'Cartney, you'd better get to work as soon as possible. In the meantime, Captain Mason, keep your eye on yonder vessel, and let me know how she progresses. We," he continued, turning to MacAndrew and Maas, "must endeavour to find some place in which to hide Monsieur Petrovitch, should the commanding officer take it into his head to send a boat to search the ship."

The captain and the engineer rose and left the room; and, when the door had closed behind them, the others sat down to the consideration of the problem, which Browne had placed before them. It was knotty in more points than one. If, as Browne had the best of reasons for supposing, the warship was in search of them, they would hunt the yacht from stem to stern, from truck to keelson, before they would be satisfied that the man they wanted was not on board. To allow him to be found would be the most disastrous thing that could possibly happen to all of them. But the question that had to be settled was, where he could be hidden with any reasonable chance of safety. They had barely an hour in which to make up their minds on this point, and to stow the fugitive away before the man-o'-war's boat would arrive. In vain they ransacked their brains. Every hiding-place they hit upon seemed to have some disadvantage.

"The only place I can think of," said Maas, who was lolling in a corner smoking a cigarette, "would be in one of these lockers. He might manage to crouch in it, and they would scarcely think of looking for him there."

"It would be one of the first they would try," retorted MacAndrew scornfully. "No, Mr. Browne; the only spot I can think of is in the tunnel of the tail shaft. We might squeeze him in there, and I could go with him to take care that he makes no noise."

"The very idea," Browne replied. "There's plenty of room, and no one would ever suspect his presence there. If you will take charge of him, and get him down there at once, I will go off and see Miss Petrovitch, and tell her what has happened, and what we intend to do."

"And is there nothing I can do to help?" Maas inquired, raising himself to a sitting posture.

"Oh yes," continued Browne. "You can keep your eye on the warship, and warn us when she gets too close to be pleasant. By the way, I must confess I should like to know where Jimmy Foote is. It's not like him to be out of the way, when there's trouble in the wind."

Without waiting for a reply, he ran down the companion-ladder and made his way along the saloon in the direction of Katherine's cabin. On reaching it he rapped upon the panel of the door, and bade Katherine dress as quickly as possible, and come to him in the saloon. The girl must have gathered from his voice that something very serious had occurred, for it was not long before she made her appearance with a scared look upon her face.

"What has happened?" she asked. "I can see something is the matter. Please tell me everything."

"Something very unpleasant," Browne replied. "In the first place, some evilly-disposed person has tampered with the engines so that we cannot go ahead for the present; but, worse than that, a man-o'-war – presumably a Russian – has come up over the horizon, and is steaming towards us."

"A Russian man-o'-war?" she exclaimed, with a look of terror in her eyes. "Do you mean that she has come after us?"

"I cannot speak positively, of course," said Browne, "but since she is here, it looks very much like it."

"Oh, Jack, Jack," she cried excitedly, "what did I tell you at the beginning? This is all my fault. I told you I should bring trouble and disgrace upon you. Now my words have come true."

"You have done nothing of the kind," Browne answered. "There is treachery aboard, otherwise this would never have happened."

Afterwards, when he came to think it all over, it struck Browne as a remarkable fact that on this occasion her first thought was not for her father, as was her usual custom, but for himself. What did this mean? Had she been disappointed in her parent, as he had half-expected she would be? Her quick womanly intuition must have told her what was passing in his mind, for her face suddenly flushed scarlet, and, clenching her hands together, she said slowly and deliberately, as if the question were being wrung from her, and she were repeating something she had no desire to say: —

"But if it is a Russian man-o'-war, what will become of my poor father?"

"We are going to hide him," returned Browne. "MacAndrew has taken him below to a certain place where he will be quite safe. He will remain there, while the ship is in sight, and rejoin us when she has disappeared again. Believe me, dear, they shall not get him, whatever happens."

There was a little pause, and then Katherine said, as if she were following up the conversation: —

"It would be too cruel if he were to be captured, just as he has got away."

"He shall not be captured; never fear," continued Browne. "And now, dear, you had better go and tell Madame Bernstein all that has happened. I think you had better both remain in your cabins for the present. When the Russian officer arrives, if all turns out as I am very much afraid it will, I will ask you to dress and come on deck, for they will ask to be allowed to search your cabins for a certainty."

"I will go to Madame at once," she answered; "but I think – "

She was about to say more when a footstep sounded upon the companion-ladder, and a moment later Jimmy Foote, his face surcharged with excitement, looked down upon them.

"For heaven's sake, Browne," he cried, as he held on to the brass hand-rail, "come up to the smoking-room at once! There is not a moment to lose."

"What on earth has happened?" Browne inquired, as he left Katherine's side and bounded up the ladder.

"Just what I suspected," said Jimmy. "I never could have believed such villainy could be possible."

Having reached the deck, they hastened towards the smoking-room. As he did so, Browne glanced out to sea, and noticed that the man-o'-war was now so close that her hull could plainly be distinguished. At most she could not be more than eight or nine miles away.

CHAPTER XXVIII

It was a curious sight that met Browne's gaze, when he entered the snug little cabin, in which he and his friends had spent so many happy hours together. The skipper was standing near the door, M'Cartney was next to him, the second engineer in the corner opposite, and half-seated, half-forced down on the cushioned locker under the starboard port-hole was Maas, with MacAndrew, revolver in hand, leaning over him. Browne glanced from one to another of the group, but failed to take in the situation.

"What does this mean?" he cried, and, as he did so, he looked at Jimmy Foote, as if for explanation.

"It's a bad business, Browne, old chap," Jimmy replied; "a very bad business. I wish to goodness I had not to say anything to you about it. But it must be done, and there is very little time in which to do it. While you were away on shore a small incident occurred which aroused my suspicions. I determined to watch, and did so, with the result that they were confirmed. I saw that our friend Maas was a good deal more familiar with your officers and crew than I thought was good, either for them or for himself. I did not know he was the traitorous cur he is."

By this time Maas's usual sallow face was ashen pale. His lips seemed to be framing words which were never spoken.

"For heaven's sake, Foote," cried Browne, in an agony of impatience, "get on with what you have to say! What have you discovered?"

Jimmy turned to the second engineer, who was almost as pale as Maas. "Tell him everything," he said; "and see that you speak the truth."

"I scarcely know how to tell you, sir," the young fellow answered. "I only wish I'd never lived to see this day. What made me do it I don't know; but he, Mr. Maas there, got round me, sir, and – well, the long and short of it is, I gave in to him, and did what you know."