When she awoke, late in the morning, she heard the voices of children in the cabin, and it was hard to realize that she was the victim of Dock Vincent's villany. She was kindly greeted by Mrs. Vincent, and the children stared at her as though she had come up from the depths of the ocean. She soon made friends with the boy of eight and the girl of ten, who were included in the family of her persecutor. After breakfast she went on deck with them, and learned that the vessel was off Cape Cod. Captain Gauley was very civil to her; but she did not allude to the events of the previous evening. He was a bad man, and she could hardly help shuddering in his presence.

All day long she played with the children, and short as she made the hours to them, they were very long to her. She was so gentle, and kind, and unselfish, even in her woe, that the little ones loved her, and would hardly leave her for a moment. She was certainly comforted by their presence, and her endeavors to a.s.sure them lightened the moments of the long day. The kindness of Mrs. Vincent did much to a.s.sure her; she was satisfied that nothing worse than a long separation from her parents was likely to happen to her. Feeling that it was useless to repine at her condition, or to weep over what she could not avoid, she resolved to make the best of it. There was no real hardship in her situation, and the circ.u.mstances were certainly more agreeable than when she had before been an involuntary pa.s.senger in Dock's vessel. The absence of the villain himself was perhaps her greatest consolation; but the presence of Mrs. Vincent and the children was a real comfort.

In the evening Bessie and Dock's wife talked the matter over again in her state-room. Mrs. Vincent roundly and unequivocally condemned the conduct of her husband. She had discovered that the Caribbee was now headed to the west, and it was plain to her that she was not yet on her way to Australia. Dock had told her he was going to New York, and it was possible that he intended to join them there. She told Bessie that she might be able to leave the vessel when she reached her destined port. The poor girl became more reconciled to her situation only because it was no worse, rather than because it was not bad enough. She slept well that night.

The next day she played with the children, read to them, and dressed the girl's doll in the latest fashion. In the evening, after Bessie had retired, the Caribbee ran by Sandy Hook, and made a harbor near Amboy, where she came to anchor. She was moored a mile from the sh.o.r.e, and no other vessel was near her. Captain Gauley had carried out the plans of Dock to the letter. He had been a steamboat pilot in these waters, and was quite familiar with the navigation. Dock had made his acquaintance while he was acting as mate of a boat, and the mate and the pilot were congenial spirits.

When Bessie went on deck with the children in the morning, Captain Gauley told her, if she wished to write to her father, her letter should be forwarded, as he was going on sh.o.r.e during the forenoon. She was glad to a.s.sure her parents of her safety, and she wrote a long letter, describing her capture and her situation on board of the Caribbee. She stated the facts as they were. Dock's agent was writing at the same time in the cabin; and when she was about to fold her sheet, he wished to see it. He read it through, tore off the heading, "Near New York," and the date, and then suggested that she had better ask her father to pay the money required for her release.

"My father must do as he thinks best about that," replied Bessie, decidedly.

"You don't understand your situation, I see," added the captain. "It is impossible for you to escape from the vessel, and if your father does not pay the money, you will go to Australia with us."

"My father will do what is best," repeated Bessie.

"Very well," added Captain Gauley, sourly. "If your father is not wiser than you are, you may spend the rest of your days in Australia."

Bessie made no reply, but folded and directed her letter. It was plain now that Dock was to levy his contribution on Mr. Watson before he came on board. This out-of-the-way place had been selected, where no one would be likely to hear of her, for the vessel to remain until Dock could obtain his money. Captain Gauley went off in a boat, with one man, leaving the schooner in charge of Mat Mogmore. He did not return till night; but Bessie, though she considered various plans to escape from the vessel, was satisfied that nothing could be done, for Mat watched her all the time. Her only hope was, that she might induce one of the sailors to a.s.sist her by promising him a large sum of money; but her vigilant guardian would not permit her to speak to any man on board. If one of the seamen came aft, he was ordered forward; and Bessie's hope faded away.

The Caribbee remained for ten days in the vicinity of Sandy Hook, changing her anchorage several times. Every day, either Mat Mogmore or Captain Gauley went on sh.o.r.e, evidently expecting to see Dock, or to hear from him. Bessie watched in vain for an opportunity to make a friend of one of the sailors, or to hail a pa.s.sing boat; but so carefully was she guarded, that all hope in this direction was cut off.

She began to wish that her father would pay the money, for this seemed to be her only chance of escape. Dock's non-appearance indicated that his little plan was not working as well as he had expected, and Mrs.

Vincent and Bessie saw that Captain Gauley and Mat were becoming very anxious.

On the tenth day after the arrival of the Caribbee, Mat Mogmore, who had been on sh.o.r.e, returned with a letter, directed, in a strange hand, to Captain Gauley. He opened it in the cabin. It contained but a few lines, which he read and then hastened upon deck, leaving the letter on the table. The rattling of ropes and the flapping of sails were immediately heard; and it was plain to Bessie that the vessel was getting under way.

"I wonder what is to be done now," said Mrs. Vincent, coming out of her state-room.

"I don't know. Captain Gauley read the letter which lies on the table, and then hurried on deck," replied Bessie.

"A letter!" exclaimed Mrs. Vincent, who was continually on the lookout for news; for she was hardly less a prisoner than Bessie.

She took it from the table, and without hesitation opened it.

"It is from my husband," said she, glancing at the signature. "Things are going wrong with me, and you will sail for Australia without me,"

she read, "the moment you get this letter. Keep things as before, and _do not let any one leave the vessel_. If you don't do this, my only chance is lost. Be careful, for they are after you. I shall get the money, and go to Australia by steamer from England, and shall probably be there before you."

"Then we are actually starting for Australia!" exclaimed Bessie, with a deep sigh.

"I suppose so."

Bessie went into her state-room and wept bitterly, as all hope deserted her. She cried, and she prayed, and then endeavored to reconcile herself anew to her situation. The sails were hoisted, and the Caribbee was standing out to sea.

Captain Gauley was at the helm, and Mat Mogmore was at his side, talking with him about the prospect.

"If he wrote a letter at all, he ought to have told us all about it,"

said Mat, disappointed at the meagreness of the news from Dock.

"He says things are going against him."

"And he says they are after us; but he don't say who, nor what," added Mat. "I would like to know what has gone wrong, and who is after us."

"Do you see that schooner on the weather bow?" said Captain Gauley, pointing to a trim-looking craft. "She has an eye on us, and we must give her a wide berth. She came about just now, and is running across our fore-foot."

"That's the yacht, as true as I live!" exclaimed Mat, when he discovered her.

"What yacht?"

"The Starry Flag!"

She had been standing off and on between Sandy Hook and Coney Island for twenty-four hours, on the lookout for the Caribbee.

CHAPTER XXII.

THE TRAVELLER WHO LOST HIS WAY.

The steward of the yacht watched the house of Mr. Fairfield all night; but no one entered or left it. Levi took his turn the next day again; and, when he proposed to employ a fresh hand for the second night, Augustus insisted upon serving, himself. He had slept enough during the day, and he wanted the satisfaction of capturing Dock, if he presented himself.

This time he was in luck, as he declared, for about one o'clock at night, when the town was as still as though it contained not a single living inhabitant, the villain came to obtain his money, probably not doubting that by this time it had been paid to his agent.

The steward had stationed himself in such a position that no one could approach the house unseen by him. Just after the clock on one of the churches had struck one, he heard footsteps on the road, and presently a man stopped in front of the miser's house. Contrary to the usual custom of rogues and villains, he went up to the front door, and knocked vigorously. The heart of the watcher leaped with expectation, and he crept like a cat on the gra.s.s till he had obtained a position behind a lilac bush, near the front door. The first summons of the unseasonable visitor did not procure a response from within, and the man knocked again.

Though the vigilant sentinel did not recognize his cowardly enemy, he had no doubt it was he. The form was about the height of Dock, but appeared to be better dressed than when he had seen the ruffian. Who else should go to the house of the miser at that unseemly hour?

"Who's there?" called Mr. Fairfield, with his impatient whine, as he threw open one of the windows of his chamber.

"I've got lost, and I want some one to show me the way to Gloucester,"

replied the visitor, in a tone so different from the voice of Dock that Augustus did not recognize it, and began to fear that the villain was not within his reach, as he had confidently believed.

"Got lost--have you? Well, take the right hand road out by the school-'us," added the miser, not so sourly as most people would have spoken when roused from their sleep to direct a night traveller.

"There are two or three roads there, and I can't afford to go much out of my way. Come out and show me, and I'll pay you for your trouble."

This was quite enough for the miser, and he promised to come. The caller stepped out into the road, and Augustus crouched down under the lilac bushes to escape observation. In a few moments Mr. Fairfield appeared, m.u.f.fled up in a ragged overcoat.

"Well, Squire Fairfield, what's the news?" demanded the visitor, when the old man joined him.

If the steward had any doubts before, he had none now. It was Dock Vincent beyond a peradventure, and his voice sounded as natural as on former occasions. It was plain that the bewildered traveller was a myth for the benefit of Mrs. Fairfield, who, being "women folks," and not understanding business, was not permitted to share the heavy secrets of her husband, especially on the present momentous occasion.

"There ain't nothin' at all for news," replied the old man, as he glanced at the house, as if to a.s.sure himself that his wife was not watching him.

"No news?" exclaimed Dock. "Hasn't Watson come done with the money yet?"

"No; nor that ain't the wust on't, nuther. I don't believe he will."