For some moments the girl lingered at the port, wondering what the commotion for'ad portended, wondering also whether the officer on the bridge had noticed it. The chances were that he had not, for the noise of the engines coming through the gratings would probably have drowned the sounds in the foc'sle, and the fact that it had been lighted up was not in itself suspicious; a dim light was always kept burning there.

She was just about to move away and turn in, when she saw the foc'sle door open and a man creep stealthily out. Had he stepped out boldly she would have thought nothing of it, but his furtive movements at once roused her curiosity. Keeping well in the shadow of the bulwarks, he crept forward till at last he reached the alleyway between the cabins amidships and disappeared. Next moment the girl heard soft footsteps approach her cabin, pa.s.s the door, and die away.

She kept quite still for a few seconds in order to let the man pa.s.s, then softly opened her door and peered out. At the other end of the alleyway, giving upon the after-deck, she caught sight of the shadowy figure making its way aft, and still keeping well in the shadows.

Stepping noiselessly out of the cabin, she followed him in obedience to an insistent desire to find out what he was about to do. On reaching the deck-house aft which led to the Captain's quarters, the man stopped and the girl had barely time to sink behind a steam-winch before he turned round and gazed furtively about him.

Then, apparently satisfied that he was not being watched, the man did an extraordinary thing. Climbing over the taffrail, he began to lower himself gently towards the water. A wild fear that he intended to commit suicide took possession of the girl, and she was about to cry out, when his next action arrested her. With his feet on the iron wind-shoot that projected from the scuttle of the Captain's cabin, he lowered himself still farther and then, grasping the shoot with his hands, let himself down till he was nearly up to the waist in water.

Then, and not till then, the girl guessed what his intention was. The Captain's bunk was situated immediately beneath the porthole, a fact she had noticed during her first and, so far, last interview with Calamity.

From his present insecure position, the man could, by putting his arm through the open port, reach the Captain as he lay asleep, and, providing he had a weapon, a knife for instance, stab him before he could utter a cry for help or defend himself.

And, even as she looked, Dora Fletcher saw the gleam of a knife in the man's hand; saw it raised for the murderous blow. Involuntarily she closed her eyes and was about to shriek for help when she felt herself seized from behind and a hand pressed tightly over her mouth.

CHAPTER X

THE CAPTAIN'S "APPEAL"

"Not a word," whispered a harsh voice which, to her astonishment, she recognised as belonging to Captain Calamity.

He removed his hand from her mouth.

"Go back to your bunk," he said in a low tone. "And not a whisper of what you have seen to a soul. Understand?"

She nodded.

He jerked his head in a manner signifying that she was to go, and the girl crept back to her cabin, feeling very much like a school-boy who has been discovered breaking bounds. What she had thought to be a horrible tragedy had, so far as she was concerned, turned out to be a farce. Yet, with feminine inconsistency, her secret admiration for Calamity was increased a hundredfold. His extraordinary preparedness, his calm, unshakable self-reliance, his independence of everyone else, fascinated her. There was nothing picturesque or heroic in his manner or appearance, yet he had proved himself a match, and more than a match, for the desperadoes who surrounded him. There was not a man on board his equal in resourcefulness, watchfulness, or strength of purpose; he was master of them all.

Even while she felt deeply humiliated at his treatment of her, she realised the absurdity of such a feeling. To him she was of less consequence even than the most inefficient fireman or sailor on board; for all she knew to the contrary, he had, until this brief and unexpected encounter, forgotten her very existence. She felt that to nourish resentment on this account would be childish; a wave might as well nourish resentment against the rock on which it ineffectually dashed itself. For the first time in her life Dora Fletcher had met a man who was as indifferent to her feelings as he was to her s.e.x, and, curiously enough, she was not altogether displeased by this.

Calamity, meanwhile, was playing his own game in his own way.

Withdrawing into the shadows, he awaited the return of Skelt from his murderous errand. He had not long to wait. A moment or two after Dora Fletcher had been so curtly ordered back to her cabin, the head of the ex-boatswain appeared over the taffrail. He cast a hurried glance right and left, then cautiously clambered over the rail and lowered himself on to the deck. As he did so a hand shot out from the darkness and clutched his throat with a grip of steel. Not until he was on the verge of being suffocated did the choking grip relax, and then a hand fastened upon his shoulder.

"Silence. Come with me," said a voice which sent a thrill of terror through him.

Skelt had no alternative but to obey, and so, with the Captain's heavy hand still upon his shoulder, accompanied him into the cabin.

"Now," said Calamity as he seated himself and surveyed his prisoner, "be good enough to explain this disobedience to orders."

The fellow looked at him in astonishment. It was disconcerting enough to find himself a prisoner in the hands of the man he had intended to murder, but it was amazing to be accused by him of what sounded like a minor offence.

"I don't understand," he answered sullenly.

"Is that how you have been in the habit of addressing your Captain?"

"Sir," growled the man.

"Remember that the next time you speak. Now then, what is your excuse for being on the after-deck when, as you know, no men are allowed there after sunset unless by express command?"

Something akin to hope arose in the ex-bos'n's breast. Could it be possible, he thought, that the Captain was unaware of his real intention and thought that he had merely disobeyed one of the ship's regulations?

And, being wholly ignorant of the extraordinary methods of the terrible skipper of the _Hawk_, Jasper Skelt permitted himself the luxury of a little secret contempt.

"I didn't know anything about the orders, sir," he answered.

"Indeed? Do you know the penalty for disobedience on board a privateer?"

"No, sir."

"Death."

The man started nervously and turned a shade paler. Things were not going quite so well as he had thought, after all.

"I've never been aboard a privateer before, sir," he replied humbly.

"So I presume. What's more, I don't think you're likely ever to be aboard another."

Again the ex-boatswain glanced nervously at the skipper. The last remark struck him as being unpleasantly ominous. The question which followed confirmed his worst fears.

"Did the men know why you came aft to-night?"

"I--I can't say, sir," faltered Skelt.

"You mean to say that you told none of them what you intended to do?"

The man's knees were trembling. He made an attempt to speak, but seemed to choke before he could get the words out.

"Answer me!" rapped out the Captain, and Skelt started as if at the sound of a pistol-shot.

"N--no, sir," he faltered, hardly realising what he said.

"Then I am to understand that they didn't know you intended to murder me?"

Skelt's last hope deserted him. His face turned an ashen grey. He tried to speak, but only a dry sob of abject terror escaped him.

"If you don't answer my question, you die inside two minutes," said Calamity quietly.

"Not all of them, sir," replied the wretched man.

"You admit that you meant to kill me, then?"

"G.o.d forgive me, sir, I----"

"Never mind about G.o.d," interrupted the Captain grimly. "It's me you're up against at the moment. Answer me, did all the men know of this?"

"Yes, sir."