Mistress Madcap/Chapter 12
FOR a paralyzing moment Young Cy stared at Captain Jaffray. Then he started forward with flashing eyes and wild words.
"Ye—ye—would d-dare to do this!" he stammered, almost beside himself with horror and rage. "Ye would dare to—to—kidnap us, to carry us away, sir!"
"Softly!" returned Captain Jaffray. He moved back a step in spite of himself, however, for the boy, tall and strong for his age, was not an unimpressive figure in his wrath. Then, his gaze fixed upon Young Cy's face, the older man called:
"Myles! Daniel!"
As though they had been expecting the summons and were in waiting, the two men appeared promptly from the deck. One was the oarsman who had rowed them out to the sloop, while the other was a great hairy fellow whose long arms and short legs gave him a grotesque, gorilla-like appearance. Charity could not help an exclamation at sight of them. They grinned.
"Bind him!" said Captain Jaffray laconically.
There was a brief, furious struggle as Young Cy threw himself upon Daniel in a futile attempt at escape; but superior numbers counted, and it was not many minutes before the boy, panting and crimson-faced from exertion and anger, lay bound hand and foot upon the cabin floor.
To Charity the whole episode began to seem like a terrible nightmare. She wanted to scream and found that her voice was gone. She wanted to go to Young Cy's help, although she really could have been of no assistance to him, and it seemed as though her limbs had turned to stone. She could only stand there uttering little anguished cries that dwindled into stifled sobs.
Then Captain Jaffray made a curt gesture and the men disappeared obediently, stumbling up the hatch. The captain seated himself calmly.
"Now, young Master Jones," he said, a cruel twist to his lips, "perhaps ye will listen to reason a trifle more patiently than before!"
"Oh, sir!" began Charity, starting forward. But Captain Jaffray turned so ferociously upon her that she cowered back into silence.
"Now, Master Jones," continued Captain Jaffray, as though he had not been interrupted, "ye can take your choice! Either ye can tell me all ye know concerning the 'Jersey Blues' or" he paused significantly and even innocent Charity shuddered. Faint but terrible rumors of the English prisons in New York, worse of the English prison ships where the patriots were treated and killed off like so many cattle, had reached Newark and the mountain settlement. One member of the mountain colony had already lost his life aboard one of the prison ships anchored in the East River, while another had escaped home, only to die later. Young Cy now cast an utterly hopeless glance at Charity, appalled at the punishment he had brought upon himself and her by his rashness.
"I" he commenced. the captain bent forward to listen with an air of triumph.
But suprisingly, Charity stepped toward him imperatively.
"'Tis no use, Young Cy, to reveal aught of the 'Jersey Blues,'" she said quietly. "Do ye not realize this man wishes to try and find out all ye know and then treat ye as he pleases? Nay, tell him nothing!"
Captain Jaffray sprang from his chair and strode toward the little girl with uplifted hand. She had, indeed, read his purpose. She met his angry eyes, however, with such steady ones that involuntarily his hand dropped to his side and he turned sullenly away.
She went over to look wistfully out of the cabin windows. When she turned back she found that she was alone with Young Cy and flew across to kneel beside him.
"Let me untie the knots while he is gone. Young Cy!" she implored feverishly.
"Nay, Charity, 'twould do no good!" answered the boy hopelessly. "I am but one against their three and they soon would have me trussed again! Besides, I doubt an ye could untie them an ye would, these knots! That villain Daniel knows his job right well! Oh, Charity," he looked up at her with sorrowful eyes, "can ye ever forgive me for dragging ye into this terrible trap? You were wise and I the dunce, indeed!"
And the boy groaned aloud, writhing and striving to break the rope that bound him until the veins started out on his forehead from the strain. Charity was back at the table searching vainly for a knife when heavy feet descending from the deck sent her to the cabin windows once more.
Captain Jaffray came down into the cabin. He looked at each suspiciously; but finding Young Cy still lying bound where he had left him on the floor and Charity gazing silently out at the low, marshy river banks they were passing, he said nothing, merely glowering darkly as he passed through into his stateroom and closed the door.
As though to taunt them the spyglass rolled to and fro with the motion of the boat—thumpity-thump, thumpity-thump—striking a box at one end and a pewter candlestick holder at the other end of the table. Charity seated herself upon the floor beside Young Cy, her thoughts running desperately, like a mill race, trying to think of some plan of escape. Young Cy, too, was silent, cudgeling his brain as to means toward that end. But their plight seemed absolutely hopeless. They could do nothing—at any rate, nothing until they had reached the end of this dreadful journey, for, though Young Cy could swim, had there been a chance to jump overboard and so escape from the ship that way, Charity could not swim. Besides, the river was widening into the rougher waters of Newark Bay, and even Young Cy's stout heart might quail at thought of dropping into the icy water there and fighting his way through the waves to shore.
And now, as though to make matters more dismal, the afternoon sunshine began to wane. Once the sun commenced to drop toward the west it descended with a terrible swiftness. Soon the shadows left the corners of the cabin and came out boldly to the center. Lemoncolored dusk turned river and sky into one pale wash of that shade. And then, with the wintry abruptness of January, it was night.
When it was quite dark and he could no longer see her, Young Cy called to his silent companion.
"Charity!"
The little girl stumbled to her feet from her chair beside the table and went over to him.
"Yes, Young Cy?" she answered whisperingly.
"I think we be almost at the end of our voyage, Cherry, now. And I have been trying to plan an escape."
"I too, Young Cy!"
"Didst look upon the table for a knife or some implement whereby ye could cut this rope, Charity? I vow, I cannot bear to think of dying like a trussed fowl!"
"Aye, Young Cy, I looked for a knife; but there was none. I will feel again, however, an ye desire!"
Charity turned and groped her way back to the table in the center of the cabin. As she had said, though, there was no knife there. Her eager fingers slid along the table's smooth surface, encountering only the spyglass and the candlestick holder until she aimlessly took hold of the box. This she picked up, remembering that it was a pretty carved box of teak wood.
As she felt of it in her hands, suddenly her fingers encountered a little hidden spring and the carved lid flew open. Of course, her curiosity caused her to explore the interior of the box. All at once, she uttered a sharp cry and almost dropped the box.
Young Cy tried to pierce the darkness with his eyes; but all he could make out was the dark smudge of Charity's figure against the lighter spot of the cabin window.
"What is it, Charity?" he asked anxiously. "What made ye cry out?"
"Something bit me," answered the girl. "Why, my finger is wet," she went on wonderingly. Then her tone changed into that of fright: "Oh, Young Cy, 'tis blood! I have cut myself!"
"Cut yourself?" The boy's voice was unbelieving.
"Aye!" Charity, feeling her bleeding finger, gained assurance. "Aye," she reiterated positively. "I have cut myself. But it does not hurt now!"
This time, more carefully, she investigated the inside of the box and at last drew forth a tiny Chinese dagger. Instantly, she was across the cabin and before Young Cy could realize what she was doing she had cut the ropes tying his hands and feet. But to her surprise, he did not move.
"Why, Young Cy," she whispered in great disappointment, "you are free! You can move!"
"Nay," he answered breathlessly. "I have just thought of a plan whereby ye can escape, I think. I must not move. Listen, now, to my plan. When the men come to fetch us off the ship, I doubt an they bind you. Charity. I feel sure that I can fool them by holding my hands and feet together as though they were still bound. Then, when we are on deck, I can give battle and do ye run, Cherry, for the rowboat and escape in that!"
"But what about you. Young Cy?"
"I care not for myself," answered the boy impatiently. "I will always fall upon my feet like a cat, no matter how or where I am thrown. Do not worry about me. Charity. I am sure I can make an escape later. But do ye as I bid! Promise me!"
"Aye, Young Cy, I promise," faltered Charity, only half satisfied by this plan which permitted only her flight.
They relapsed into silence. Charity had at once replaced the little box, with the dagger inside, upon the table, exactly where she had found it. And now the thumpity thump of the spyglass did not sound so triumphant, so taunting, at least to Charity's imaginative ears.
It was evident that Captain Jaffray was most contemptuous concerning their attempting an escape. He did not trouble himself to watch them at all. He had, as a matter of fact, at once fallen asleep upon throwing himself upon his bunk and did not reappear until the end of their voyage.
Young Cy prayed that the captain would not light the candle lest he discover that his hands and feet were no longer tied. But he was disappointed. The first thing Captain Jaffray did upon his reappearance in the cabin was to stride to the table and there, striking flint against steel, light the candle and turn to survey them trifle sleepily its yellow, flickering light. Fortunately, however, Young Cy was in the shadow of the table where he lay upon the floor, and his captor noticed nothing amiss in his attitude, especially as the boy held the rope in such a clever manner that it seemed to be still binding his wrists. It was obvious, too, that the captain had forgotten the contents of that little innocent-looking carved teak-wood box.
"Well," he said, grinning sardonically, though his prisoners knew at once that he was the better-natured for his nap, "I am here to give ye one more chance to tell me what ye know of the 'Jersey Blues,' Master Jones. I have been sent to discover what I can of them, especially of their captain, whose name we have, never fear, and whose neck shall soon feel the rope! Best tell me, for ye will be sorry an I have to deliver ye to headquarters! There, I warn ye, they do not wrap ye in lamb's wool."
Young Cy remained silent a moment after Captain Jaffray had ceased speaking. Then he said sullenly:
"I have nothing to tell ye of the 'Jersey Blues.'"
The captain shrugged his shoulders. "Very well," he said, "so be it. Master Jones. May ye not regret it!" He called aloud. "Myles! Daniel!"
As before, they appeared promptly, falling noisily down the hatch. It was plain to be seen that they held their captain in fear.
"Turn him out!" ordered Captain Jaffray briefly, pointing to Young Cy.
The two men stooped and lifted Young Cy to his feet, the latter holding them tightly together as though they were still tied.
"Can we not untie his feet till he reaches the deck?" pleaded Myles, not relishing the task of carrying the tall lad bodily up the steps.
But Captain Jaffray frowned.
"Do as I bid ye!" he ordered harshly. And with a groan and a sigh, the two men bent to their burden. Young Cy purposely and maliciously made himself as heavy and awkward as possible, falling first against one and then the other of his carriers. As long as they were in the cabin the men did not dare to retaliate; but as soon as they had reached the night air, Daniel gave the prisoner a pinch. This served but to give added force to the blow which Young Cy now delivered unexpectedly in return. Daniel, taken by surprise, fell headlong to the deck.