THE GLOW-WORM’S ONE HOUR

Sorenson and the two Chinese were now eliminated. Senor Rey, disarmed, was not a physical menace; third Chinese was locked in the galley; in a sense Bedient and Framtree equalized; Madame Sorenson was having trouble to overcome her own hysteria; and Adith Mallory uncovered no hostility in the Glow-worm quite the opposite. Framtree answered Bedient:

“I suggested to the Senor that he let me see you, but he thought to the contrary. He is my commanding officer.... As for you, Bedient, all I have to say is that you carry a maniac’s luck. I think I think if you hadn’t looked so like a dead man, Senor Rey would have done the natural thing, as you came forth from the forecastle."... The big chap glanced at the pistol on the table. “What is it you want with me?”

Again and again, in the stifling forecastle, Bedient had swooned from the heat, the vile air and his utter weakness. Only he had nailed to his brain surfaces, through terrific concentration, an expectancy for Miss Mallory’s signals; otherwise they would have failed to rouse him. He had come forth more dead than alive, with only a glimmering of what he was to do, until he saw the hand of Celestino Rey move toward his pocket. Then a strange jolt of strength shook him, and he had the pistol. It was like that day on the Truxton. Afterward he heard the words of Miss Mallory insisting that Sorenson could swim, and amusement helped to clear his consciousness. A queer sense that he was not to lose in these lesser affairs possessed him; that enough strength, enough intelligence would be given, a peculiar inner sustaining which he was odd enough to accept as authoritative.... And now he heard Framtree’s words, and a water-bottle on the table beside the pistol magnetized his eye. He poured out a glassful and drank, and the thought came apart from his listening to Framtree if only other agonies could be eased with the swift directness of his thirst-torture that moment.

“I wanted you to go back on the Hatteras, Mr. Framtree,” he said. “The Henlopen won’t sail for a week. We won’t lose sight of each other, so there is time. As for our talk, we must be alone.”

The words crippled Framtree’s hostility, but he did not forget Rey. It was a hard moment for him.

“One wouldn’t think you had a week to judge by the chances you took in turning this trick to-day,” he said.

The Spaniard’s bony shoulders sank a little in his lids dropped for an instant.

“You proved so hard to reach in these days of preparation,” Bedient replied, “that I feared I might fail altogether in case of eventualities. And we had reason to think that to-night marked the end of Equatorian peace.”

Rey moistened his lips, watching Framtree, but did not speak.

“It must be damned important,” Framtree said.

“It is,” Bedient answered, and the American woman listening intently at the wheel did not miss the change in his voice.

Meanwhile the yellow-brown face of the Spaniard had scarcely altered, except perhaps that the pallid scar had a bit more shine about it. His eyes moved around the cabin, darting often at the pistol, halting upon the knob of the forecastle-door in the fear that others might be concealed there; inscrutable black brilliants, these eyes, and to the woman at the wheel the cabin was evil from their purgatorial restlessness.... Suddenly he started, and commanded Framtree:

“See to the ship’s course!”

“It’s all right, Senor Rey,” Miss Mallory called. “I can hold her. We’re scudding along beautifully, and our convoy is keeping pace

The Spaniard’s bony shoulders sank a little in his chair. He interpreted this, as did Framtree, as an order. It was his first positive assurance that the American woman was against him.

“But the Chinese, Miss Mallory ” he said, with rare control.

“Oh, they have picked up Mr. Sorenson.... They can see the light at the point of the Inlet. Mr. Sorenson will need a change of clothing

There was a laugh from Framtree, rich, ripping, infectious. It released accumulations of fever and strain from all but the Spaniard, who joined nevertheless.... Bedient stood somewhat rigidly by the table. Waves of mist alternated with intervals of clear perception in his mind.

Miss Mallory had entered into reaction. The laugh of Jim Framtree was the only good omen to her. She wasn’t quite so afraid of him after that.... As for the wheel, the situation was not nearly so blithe as she had represented to Rey. The Savonarola had changed course, while the Chinese were getting the small boat overside. The Inlet had been astern and a little to star-board then. She had wondered, at the time, at the course, because Captain Bloom of the Hatteras had shown her how the reefs stretched out, forming a great breakwater for Coral City harbor, and the Savonarola had seemed to be making for trouble.... She jumped with a thought now. Perhaps Rey had intended to run over the coral with his lighter craft, or perhaps he knew a lesser passage; and thus elude Jaffier’s gunboat, or strand the latter upon the reefs....

The Inlet light was now straight to port, but the breeze was brisker, and she hated the thought of losing it. She had handled the tiller of small craft, but would not have dared to bring around the Savonarola with her vast sweep of sail, even had she cared to regain the original course.... Bedient could not hold these two men at bay all night. He looked as if he might fall any moment. And now he had postponed his talk with Framtree. This was beyond her. She had counted upon him for a message that would make Framtree his. She did not realize the meaning of the few words already spoken. There might be pistols secreted, where Framtree could find them. One shot and she was alone.... Bedient did not even adequately care for the pistol he had. There was a large stain of red upon the breast pocket of his coat, a coat that had been white in the morning, but now grimed from the forecastle. The stain terrified her.... Where was the voyage to end? Certainly they could not go back to The Pleiad Inlet, nor over the reefs to the main harbor; and this strain could not last. These were bits of her furious thinking during the last few moments, while Bedient stood beside the table like a freshly risen Lazarus.... The Glow-worm moved past her, as a sleep-walker might have done, murmuring that she must have a glass of wine or die. Madame Sorenson moaned at being left alone, and followed the Senora into the cabin. And now Senor Rey asked blandly:

“Why don’t you send the two ladies ashore also, Miss Mallory? There is an extra boat also an extra Chinese

“You won’t do that, dear?” The Glow-worm turned back to her with a horrified look. Her tone was not to be forgotten.

“No, Senora,” Miss Mallory answered. “It is well to have at least one small boat.”

“Excellent wisdom, I am sure,” said Rey, as his eyes settled upon the Glow-worm.

She drained a glass of wine, and sank into a chair in a still huddled fashion. There was something unnatural in the fixed inclination of her head. She had betrayed herself, and watched Rey now out of the corners of her eyes and in dissolving fear quivering under his stare and voice. Madame Sorenson was sitting near, dazed from sensational expenditure, her lips moving without sound. There was something hideous in the tension, and in the whole cabin arrangement. Framtree had taken a seat across the aft doorway. He could turn from the woman at the wheel to the light with a movement of his head. He appeared to be much mixed in mind and resigned to await developments. Bedient stood silently watching these changes of position. Miss Mallory felt she must scream before many minutes. She wanted Bedient to know all the fears that distressed her, but dared not speak lest she betray the weakness of their position as she saw it. Once she thought Framtree was laughing at her.

“What a pleasant little party!” Rey remarked at length. “Too bad you can’t join us, Miss Mallory.” And now he turned to Bedient with a scornful laugh: “Why don’t you use your men in the forecastle to man the ship, and relieve the lady at the wheel?”

“They are off watch, Senor,” Bedient said, smiling.

“How tired they are! How silently they rest!” the Spaniard replied softly, and his long hands caressed each other.

Framtree glanced from Bedient to Miss Mallory, who realized with added dread that the forecastle bubble was pricked. She wondered how he had conveyed the impression that others were behind.

“Better let me help you with the wheel, Miss Mallory,” Framtree said, decently enough.

“No.”

“Shall I get you a glass of wine?”

“No.”

Rey seemed to have caught a sudden hope. At least, Miss Mallory imagined so; and that he tried to cover it with words.

“Mr. Bedient,” he said pleasantly, “I do not wish to under-rate your genius in the least, but I should like to pay a compliment to your remarkable fellow-worker.”

“I have several to pay, as well, Senor.”

“I should be glad for her to hear,” Rey added.

“If you mean me,” Miss Mallory called, “I am listening intently.”

The Spaniard leaned forward, appearing to cover his eyes with his fingers. Miss Mallory could hardly restrain a scream for Bedient to look out for the pistol, but nothing happened. Senor Rey sat back and began reminiscently:

“I was sailing and garnering in these waters before either of you men, and certainly before any of the women present, were alive. I made Equatoria interesting, and a delightful place to live. I have met in the old days, sometimes in strategy, sometimes in open warfare, the most crafty and daring seamen the world could send to the Caribbean. All, to the last man, I have overmatched in strength and cleverness. A ship has at last changed hands beneath my feet. It is well. I have lived long and am content. Only, I wish to say that it is a bright pleasure to think that no man, however brilliant or daring, outgeneraled me but a delightful American girl.”

“It’s a tribute that I shall always remember, Senor,” Miss Mallory responded, “and one that comes from a master of his profession.”

Out of this pleasantry brewed a change. The Spaniard stared from face to face for several seconds. What came over him cannot be told a break in his fine control; a sudden realization that he was whipped; a resurgence of all the shattered strategies in his brain, many of which certain others of the party did not yet understand; his doubt of Framtree, or his inability to reach the weapon, the exact point which goaded him to black disorder was never known, but the fury of it concentrated upon the Glow-worm. Her mortal fear attracted it.

The look he turned upon her was demoniacal, harrowing as a dream of hell. All else stopped words, thoughts, even hearts. Miss Mallory craned down to see. The Sorenson woman panted as one dying of thirst. The Senora shrank back. Her face seemed dim, fallen, but she could not lose his eyes. Rey was speaking, leaning forward in his chair, and heaping words upon her like clods upon a corpse:

“... But to-night, things were spoken which could only have come to them through you! Celestino Rey has been outgeneraled by a clever American girl, but he has also been betrayed by a South American cat the tortoise-shell of a bagnio-litter

Both white men commanded him to stop. The Spaniard turned a glance from Framtree to Bedient.... The woman at the wheel, straining downward, saw the Glow-worm rise with an appalling shudder, as the eyes of her lord left her; saw her body huddle forward toward him, her hands fumbling in her hair.

“My dear Bedient,” the Spaniard was saying, “I regret this domestic scene. You must excuse a man who has so recently discovered his Glow-worm to be a scorpion

The crouching figure of the woman in the rage she had prayed for, and as she had prayed for it, with his eyes turned away hurled forward as one diving into the sea. The flying body seemed huge in the little cabin. The concentration of her weight struck him in the throat. His head whipped back like a flaunted arm. The chair had been screwed to the floor, but the weight of impact ripped the fastenings out of the heavy planking. Backward Rey was borne, beneath a stabbing creature whose cries were as some bestial mystery of the dark.

It was Framtree who tore her loose, and tightened upon her wrist until the fingers opened and the little knife concealed how long in her hair? dropped like a feather to the carpet. Swiftly it had let out the life of the Spaniard.... Bedient opened the galley-door at a gesture from the woman. The Chinese came forth.

“It was I your mistress, Boy who killed the Senor. You may look. Then fix him quickly, so he will sink. I want him to sink!” she panted.

Bedient waited for Framtree to look up. The eyes of the two men met.

“The first and last chance of war in Equatoria is eliminated,” Bedient said.

Presently he moved out of the cabin, and sat down beside Miss Mallory. Each had held out a hand to the other, but they had not words.

The place was being made clean within.... The Glow-worm could not be silent, muttered constantly to the Chinese. “... You shall go back to South America with me. I shall be very good to you.... Oh, do open some wine, Boy! I am so very thirsty!” and on, until she saw the face of Framtree, moodily watching. She sank into a chair shuddering, and covered her face. “Don’t look at me so horribly!” she cried. “Ask Senorita Mallory about it ask her about me.”

He jerked up, but did not answer at once. The Glow-worm screamed at him to speak.

Framtree crossed the cabin, and dropped his huge hand upon her shaking shoulder.

“I have nothing to say, Senora.... It was a matter between you and him.... But I’m glad to help you. It bowled me over a little, that’s all.”

His voice was big in the hush that had fallen upon the cabin.... Framtree helped the Chinese carry forth the weighted body.... As it paused for an instant on the gunwale, the searchlight from Jaffier’s gunboat flicked athwart the Savonarola sinister tableaux in its ghostly light.... Without a sound the Glow-worm fell backward to the cabin floor, as if touched by the finger of the Destroying Angel. Bedient worked upon her until consciousness was restored.

“What next in this terrible night?” Miss Mallory asked in an awed voice, when Bedient rejoined her.

“Such an end has hung over him for more years than we have lived,” he said. “I call it rather wonderful as it came about. Hundreds of men will continue to live because of this death. It means an end of war-making, the release of this turbulent spirit.”

Bedient turned to the light. She saw the red stain upon the breast of his coat.

He glanced down, and felt in the inner pocket. “It’s the red chalk,” he said with a laugh. “It got crushed somehow, and it was oily. The forecastle melted it.”

...Plainly at this moment they both heard the sound of a steamer’s screw ahead. But there were no lights. Bedient took the wheel and brought the Savonarola sheering away to the south of the sound, which had stopped abruptly.

Nothing was seen, not even a denser shadow in the moonless dark. Framtree joined them, and they waited expectantly for Jaffier’s index of light to pick up the mystery. Ten minutes passed before the gunboat, following doggedly, and whipping her light over sea, suddenly uncovered the dark from a big tramp steamer, aimed at the Inlet. For an instant it was lost again, but the searchlight swept back, groped until the tramp was caught, and this time held in all her unlit wickedness.

“Framtree,” said Bedient, “I believe we are about to lose our convoy

“Looks that way,” Framtree replied. “Miss Mallory has steered

“Miss Mallory has steered Equatoria off a revolutionary shoal,” Bedient finished.

“You mean the Senora ?” Miss Mallory intervened.

“No.”

“I’m very tired and stupid; please tell me in little words,” she pleaded.

“You changed the ship’s course?”

“I didn’t. It changed itself. I didn’t dare to change back, because of the reefs,” she added hastily. “Didn’t the Senor mean to run the convoy aground if they didn’t give up the chase?”

“I hadn’t thought of that,” Bedient said. “Mr. Framtree, hadn’t you better explain to Miss Mallory?”

“No, that’s for you.”

“Perhaps you will correct me if I am wrong.... The black tramp yonder was making for The Pleiad Inlet, with a cargo of guns and ammunition for the rebellion. The little sailing-trip of Senor Rey was designed to pull the gunboat afar off in the Southwest, the original course, as you say, to permit the tramp to make the Inlet unmolested. Jaffier won’t need the guns, but they’re a moral force

“As a war correspondent,” Miss Mallory remarked, “I am rather a spectacular failure.”

“It’s a boy’s game,” said Bedient.