THE NOVELIST

Otago Witness, Issue 3823, 21 June 1927, Page 62

THE NOVELIST

FLOTSAM OF THE LINE.

By

OTTWELL BINNS.

(Copyright.—For the Otago Witness.)

CHAPTER XIX.—AN ANGRY MAN. Uncertain whether his shout had been heard or not, Pat Marchington had climbed the slope of the northern end of the island, bearing steadily eastward. Once or twice he had stopped to listen, but hearing nothing of the Chinamaji, who as he guessed was following him, had continued swiftly on his way until he found himself on the very rim of the dried lake, overlooking as it chanced the patch of scrub in which he had left Lola concealed.

Staring anxiously down he had witnessed part of the drama below, wondering all the time what had happened to the girl, whom he could not see anywhere. Then he had seen her in the very act of breaking cover, and in that moment had been surprised by the Chinaman who had shadowed him from the beach. A rustling sound was the only warning, and he had no time to clear the brink before the pursuer was on him, curved knife in hand. A smart kick made the Chinaman loose his hold of the weapon, but the man had promptly grappled, wrestling desperately for mastery. But wrestling was an exercise in which Pat Marchington excelled, and before the Chinaman had realised what had happened, he had been lifted from his feet and thrown clean over the other’s shoulders. There was noticing for him to fall on, at least at the level from which he had been lifted, and with a shout he shot clean over the cliff edge to the depth below. Panting, Marchington, swinging round, had seen all that followed—Lola’s hesitation, her flight, Pedro Silva’s cowardly stone, and her capture. When the two Chinamen marched towards the declivity, guessing their purpose, he moved from his vantage point, which would soon cease to be safe. He was almost in despair. With Lola again in Carleton's hands the outlook was black indeed. What line the scoundrel would take with the girl he could only conjecture, but the conjecture stirred infinite apprehension in his heart. As he marched through the wood, considering the situation, that apprehension and the consciousness of his own immediate helplessness drove him almost mad, but through all the surge of fear and anxiety, one thing stood out clearly in his mind. He must send up the signal for Mike O’Ryan.

Remembering Carleton’s boastful utterance about the shadowing nrahu, he recognised that he might be signalling O’Ryan and Pawang and his crew to death, but the risk was one that the Irishman would laugh at, and in any case it was neceessary for Lola’s sake that it should be taken. If O’Ryan saw the signal and came swiftly the game might yet be won, since Carleton would scarcely nroceed to extreme measures with Lola until what he sought, and which Silva had failed to give him, was in his hands.

It took him a considerable time to reach the height of the island, further time to collect a sufficient quantity of dry wood for three fires, and he had to wait until the dry wood was well alight before putting on the green stuff to throw up a sufficient volume of smoke, but presently the smoke was rising steadily in triple column which from the sea would be visible for miles.

He considered the smoky pillars with satisfaction, and was in the act of turning with the intention of gathering more green fuel, when a Chinaman broke from the wood to his left, followed closely by second, each carrying a naked knife. To stand and meet two armed men with his naked fists did not commend itself to him, and conceiving discretion to be on this occasion much the better part ot valour, he ran for the cover of the nearest trees. With a yell one of the men started to follow, but the other called to him, and over his shoulder Pat Marchington saw them kicking his carefully built fires abroad.

The delay gave him a fair start, ana once deep in the wood he slackened his pace, but still moved quickly among the tangle of ferns and thorns and cane which constituted the thick undergrowth. As he went a thought came to him which brought a gleam of hope. Except for Pedro Silva, who was not likely to interfere, Carleton was .alone in the hollow of the dead lake with Lola. If he could make his way thither, he might surprise the scoundrel and deliver Lola. Carleton had a rifle, it was true, but he would scarcely be looking for his return to the hollow and a lucky chance might turn the scales entirely. He determined to make the attempt, and then discovered that the preliminaries alone were far from easy. In his plunge for safety he had taken no account of direction, and in the thick forest it was not easy to discover whereabouts. In places the density of the virgin growth made the way he took seem like- a cavern illumined by green light. He could not be sure that he was moving in the right direction at all. and after travelling for some time he welcomed a lightening in the gloom away to his right which proclaimed a thinning of the wood. Making his way thereto, he found that beyond it was a complete break in the trees, but scarcely had he stepped into the open, when a little below him the two Chinamen appeared, beating the bushes for him, and in the same instant he recognised that he was at one end .of the place of rocks

with which he had made acquaintance twice previously. The searchers’ observation of him synchronized with his of them, and shouting, they made for him. Again he ran, not turning back to the sheltering wood which he had left, but making a bee-line for the cover ahead.

Before he reached it he saw two figures against the sky-line—Carleton and Lola. Recognising them he did not pause, but ran on, thinking to himself that it would not be necessary to go down into the dried lake, which, once blocked by the pursuit, would be a veritable death-trap. He reached the wood, plunged deeply into its recesses, and finding a patch ol thorn scrub, very thick, wriggled himself into it regardless of the thorns, and lay there, listening to catch any sound of pursuit.

He had not long to wait. Furtive feet crushing the lush undergrowth sounded. He heard a man whistle, and caught the response of his fellow. Apparently tne pursuers were on each side of the thorny scrub, and approaching each other. He crouched lower in his hiding place, pulling the trailing thorn strands so close to his face that any careless movement must have been perilous to his eyes, and there he remained peering, listening—scarcely’ daring to breath. Meanwhile in the open place among the rocks Lola Ancastcr faced Carleton in open defiance, refusing to pick up the wood he had broken, her eyes bright with anger. “ I will not,” she cried, knowing nothing of the man’s purpose, but guessing it was something inimical to her own and Pat Marchington’s interests. “ I won’t help you.” “You won’t!” Carleton laughed ferociously. “ I think you will. Gather those sticks! ”

“No! ” was the stubborn answer.

The man’s reply was a back-handed blow across her mouth, which cut her lip and which was so unexpected that it knocked her off her feet. In a moment she was up and facing him, her face flaming, her eyes flashing indignation “ You coward ! ”

He laughed sneeringly at the words, and mocked her indignation. “Surprised you, hey, Lola? Well, there are further surprises coming for you in a little while. You’ve never been manhandled in your life vet, but you’re going to be if you don’t do what you’re told, and if you don’t presently open your mouth and tell me what I want know.

. . . I’m through with nersuasion. Petruchio was a wiser man than Solomon where women were concerned. He knew how to bring a rebellious wife to heel, and I’m with him. It’s third degree stuff for you if you don't jump to my word, sharp.” Lola looked at him. He spoke scornfully, but there was a raging look in his eyes, and the blow that she had suffered told her that he would be as wood as his words. She shivered a little at the thought of being beaten by him, and as the blood from her cut lip ran down her chin, she wiped it away with her hand, and then bowing to the inevitable she stooped and began to gather up the sticks. Carleton laughed. “ That’s better. You have sense, Lola, though it takes you a little time to find it. Presently when this job is done, you’ll take me to those papers and nearls that stand for our joint inheritance.” He laughed again, and directed her where to take the sticks, bidding her heap them for kindling. Then he issued further orders, and watched her while she gathered more wood. Once she measured the distance to the nearest point of the wood, wondering if it were possible to flee, but Carleton saw the glance and interpreted it, rightly. “ I wouldn’t think of it, little lady, not if I were you. A bullet travels faster than you can.” • She looked no more to the wood, but as she did what he told her, her thoughts went there. Would her lover escape from his pursuers? If not, there was no hope for her. Carleton in his brutal mood would be terrible. She remembered how he had struck Pedro Silva, and shivered. She would not be able to stand up against that kind of brutality. No girl could, and when he got his way Her thoughts stopped there, and when he bade her stand on the other side of the heaped up sticks, where he could keep an eye on her whilst he lit them, she obeyed him with outward submissiveness, but with a quite fierce hate leaping in her heart. As the sticks caught and blazed he ordered her to heap upon them green leaves and wood and crass which she had gathered, and as the thick smoke rose, she guessed that he was signalling to some one out at sea.

She was wondering what would follow next when the two Chinamen emerged from the wood. Her heart almost ceased to beat at the sight of them. What news did they bring ? The men’s impassive faces told her nothing, but it was not the same with Carleton. He watched them for a moment then an oath broke from him. Lola’s heart lightened wonderfully. Evidently Carleton had divined that his men had .been unsuccessful in their pursuit of Marchington, and as she glanced from

the Chinese to him, she saw that his face was dark with anger. When the men came to a halt, Carleton addressed them in Chinese. She did not understand what he said, but guessing he had asked a queslion, she watched the two yellow men, and as one of them began to speak she caught an apologetic look on his face. The man had said little, no more than a dozen words at the most, when Carleton broke in, savagely, gesticulating and pointing to the wood. One of the Chinamen nodded in reply and then again the white man spoke a couple of terse sentences, and without a word the Celestials turned and began to move back to the wood. Carleton stood watching them, a black frown on his face, and as they disappeared in the trees swore softly to himself.

Lola watched them go also, conscious of new hope. Since the hunters had failed to take Pat Marchington when thev had been following close at his heels, there was far less chance of their efforts succeeding now when they had lost all trace of him. He would scarcely wait for them. By this time he might be anywhere in the island, and guessing that his enemies would be searching for him, he would be watchful against surprise. Her relief must have shown itself in her face, for Carleton looking at her laughed harshly. “ You think that fancy man of yours has got away, hey? Well, he hasn’t. You 11 see him here before the sun goes or I’m a Dutchman, and when I have him you will see what I shall do to him! Put some more green stuff on that fire.” She threw an armful of grass and greenwood on the fire. The column of smoke thickened, and Carleton nodded his satisfaction, then he spoke again : “ Sit down here ! ”

He had seated himself on the ridge where the fire had been kindled, and without a word she obeyed him, sitting down on a stone a couple of yards or so away from him. For quite a long time he was silent, and Lola staring out towards the flock of small islands, having an idea that he was looking at her, moved a little uncomfortably, and after a moment glanced swiftly in his direction. To her relief she found that he was not looking at her at all. His dark eyes were fixed upon the sea, as if he were watching for something. From time to time, on his instructions and with his eyes upon her, she replenished the fire with both dry and green wood. A full hour passed and still he stared seaward. A moody look upon his face. Another hour or so it seemed to her went by, and Carleton still sat there watching the sea with what black thoughts in his mind she could only conjecture. Losing interest in the empty ocean, she herself began to watch the landward side, and after a little time, against the skyline saw a silhouette of the figure ot a man—one of the Chinamen she was certain. That meant that as yet the pursuit of Marchington had been so far unsuccessful, and the assurance brought her a further uplift of spirit. She looked further afield, and in the opposite direction, behind the woods between there and the northern end of the island, was surprised to see three dark spirals of smoke, like the single one which rose behind Carleton and herself. A little startled gasp broke from her at the unexpected vision, and Carleton turning at the sound saw what had compelled it. A look of hot rage came in his eves.

Curse the fellow-! ” he said fiercely, then gave a brutal laugh. Smart, hey, Lola?” he asked, nodding towards the triple columns. “ But too smart. The fool is playing my game if he only knew it.”

“.How?” she asked, moved by mingled curiosity and anxiety. Carleton laughed evilly. “ How? Why, he’s calling his prahu to fetch him away’ and mine, with three times the number of men in it, will be trailing it as a man’s shadow trails him when he fronts the su ! l ', They’ll get here together and you’ll see Marchington’s prahu go down like a shot bird.’’ He laughed gloatingly. “Three columns to bring the bird to the snare and one to signal its destruction—mine !” “ Oh !” she whispered in horror, “ you are a bad man.”

“ It takes all sorts to make a world, and I have never claimed to be a saint,” he replied, with a laugh. “But how can you?” she cried back. “How can you? It will be murder ” “■PoolH Do you think lam afraid of a word ? Not I, nor is any man worth his salt. No one butts in on my plans without paying for it, as you’ll have evidence when I get that Marchington, as get him I shall. And when I do, one or other of you will tell me just what I want to know just as quick as vou know how.” Lola did not reply. The uplift of which she had been conscious faded, and a sense of depression stole upon her. It deepened as turning away from the triple signal she stared again at the sea. It was empty now. but if Carleton was not boasting, it would not be so for long. Those three columns would bring the prahu on which Pat Marchington had set; his -hopes, and the one which she herself had fed from time to time would bring destruction to those hopes, perhaps to her lover himself. Tha’t must not be!

Her _ minds shaped the words silently, and with her eyes fixed on the sea where the changing lights proclaimed that ~the afternoon was drawing to evening, she strove to think of some plan by which she could obviate disaster. She could think of but one and that the most tritely obvious, and at last she spoke. ‘ If you get the pearls and the papers would you spare ” Her voice faltered at the name, and Carleton looked at her sharply. “Spare who? You?” “No ”

“Marchington?” Carleton stood up as he shot the word. “Spare?” he said “ Spare?” Not for all the pearls on God’s earth! I’ll roast him. turn him over to the Chinks, who know how to make a man pray to them to kill him.”

As lie towered above her, his voice hoarse with passion, Lola shivered. She knew that he meant every word that he said, and suddenly she buried her face in her hands, her shoulders shaking. “ Make up that fire!” he shouted, angered the more by the evident concern she had for the man whom he hated. The girl did not move. “Do you hear? Fling some green stuff on that bonfire.” His tone was harsh and menacing, and he expected to see her jump to obey. But instead the girl slowly lifted her face from her hands and raised herself to her feet. Her lashes were wet with tears, but the blue eyes were ablaze, and she confronted him as a distraught child might have done, speaking only a single word: “ No! ”

“My God! You won’t?” He set the rifle against a rock, and lifted his clenched fist threateningly. “ Make up that fire.” “ No 1”

He stared at her incredulously. His fist came slowly down measuring the place where he meant to strike, and then it swung back for the blow. But he did not strike. Something in the girl’s eyes held the clenched hand poised. She was not looking at him, but beyond him through the edge of the wood, and what he saw in her face made him turn his head sharply in that direction. He saw nothing but the trees, and he glanced at Lola again. The startled look he had seen in the girl’s eyes was no longer there, and he stared at her wonderingly, then gripping her wrist sharply he swung her in front of him.

“ March,” he said, indicating the wood and prodding her with the muzzle of the rifle. Lola Ancaster began to move, slowly enough, hoping that way to give Pat Marchington, whose face she had seen at the edge of the wood, time to make good his escape. Carleton's suspicions showed blackly in his face, and possibly he saw through her ruse, for gripping her arm he hurried her forward. At the very edge of the wood he halted, • and stood in a listening attitude, his rifle ready for action. Nothing happened. No sound came from the wood, there was no movement, but his dark eyes searched the shadows for any sign of the man whom he suspected to be there. .He found none except a place where the herbage had been trampled down, and which might be accounted for bv his own men.

, He looked at the girl and caught a tense, apprehensive look on her face. There had some one in the wood, he was sure, but whoever had been there, and it could be no one else but Marchington, had withdrawn into the deeper shadows. He could not leave Lola, and to plunge into the wood with her meant the risk of losing her. Further it might be the worst kind of folly, for whilst a man with a rifle might be considered impregnable against an unarmed man in the open, in the deep shadows of the forest, thick with undergrowth, the element of possible, surprise weakened the advantage of the rifle-holder immensely. He began to move backward, forcing Lola with him, then when the possibility of any surprise attack had been eliminated by distance, he looked at the girl and laughed his understanding. “ Marchington has discretion—or is it that he is just feeble of spirit? Lola made no reply. The taunt her unmoved. Her beautiful face, now so

pale,' was almost mask-like, but her heart was leaping, and hope was singing there. She was in Carleton’s power at the moment, but Pat Marchington had evaded the pursuing Chinese, and within calling distance was watching over her. A new conviction of his power to deliver her asserted itself, and as Carleton moved towards the ridge anew, she went unresistingly. When they reached their old look-out place, the man turned and looked back at the wood, then with a sneering laugh swung round to look at the sea. As he did so the laughter died on his lips and an alert look leaped in his dark eyes. He stared intently towards the string of islands running eastward, and a moment later a quick oath slipped from him.

Lola Ancaster, understanding that something had disturbed him, herself stared seaward. At first she saw nothing, then far away between two of the jade-green dots in the blue of the sea, she caught sight of something that might have been a small brown moth floating on the water, but which her experience told her was some native prahu. That Carleton so

interpreted that brown dot was plain to her, and whilst he still watched she heard him muttering. “ One . . . one . . . O’Ryan’s or ” Remembering his boast, her own mind gave itself to the question. Was that prahu, which seemed so small and frail a thing in the expanse of water, the one which was bringing Mike O’Ryan, or was it the prahu for which Carleton had been looking? She could not tell, but her hope that it was O’Ryan hurrying to the rescue became more definite a moment later when the man seized her arm, and turned from the sea. “March! ” he said tersely. Their faces were towards the northern end of the island, and a thought came to Lola that they were making for her old sanctuary. Desiring to make sure, she asked a question: “ Where are you taking me ? ” “ Taking you? I’m taking you nowhere.” The man laughed mockingly. “ The boot is on the other leg. It is you who are taking me to these pearls, for the time for shilly-shallying has gone by.” (To be continued.)