I forgot I was standing masked, with a naked weapon in my hand. I
dropped my mask, dropped my weapon, and turned quickly toward Helena.
"Be silent!" I commanded her.
She stood for one instant, her hands at her cheeks. Then, "Ahoy!" rang
out her voice once more in sheer disobedience, and "You!" she said to
me, furious.
"Yes, I," was my answer, and my own fury was now as cold as hers. "Go
below," I ordered her. "I am in command of this boat. Quick!"
I had never spoken thus to her in all my life, but almost to my
surprise she changed now. As though half in doubt, she turned toward
the stair leading down to the ladies' cabin where Aunt Lucinda was
shrieking in terror.
"Guard the door," I called to L'Olonnois as I turned away. I heard it
slam shut and the click of the lock told me my prisoners were safe, so
I hastened forward.
"Good Lord, Mr. Harry!" cried my skipper, Peterson, when he saw me.
"Come here, take this little devil--away--I'm afraid he'll knife me."
I hurried to him for he struggled in the dark with Jean Lafitte.
"To the rescue, Black Bart!" called Jean Lafitte. "Catch his other
arm. I've got this one, and if he moves, by Heaven I'll run him
through."
"Run me through, you varmint--what do you mean?" roared Peterson.
"Ain't it enough you pull a gun on me and try to poke out my eye, and
twist off my arm, without sticking me with that bread-slicer you got?
Mr. Harry--for Heaven's sake----"
"There now, Jean Lafitte," I said, "enough. He has begged for
quarter."
"No, I ha'int," asserted Peterson venomously. "I'll spank the life
outen him if I ever get the chance--" I raised a hand.
"Enough of all this noise," I said. "I am in charge now, Peterson. Go
to the wheel. Break out the anchor and get under way. At once, man! I
have no time to argue."
Peterson had never in his life heard me speak in this way before, but
now, for what reason I do not know--perhaps from force of habit,
perhaps because he knew I was owner of the boat, perhaps in awe of the
naked kris of Jean Lafitte, still presented menacingly at his
abdomen--the old skipper obeyed.
I heard the faint jangle of bells in the engine-room below. Obviously,
Williams, the engineer, was responsive to his sense of duty and
routine. The power came pulsing through the veins of the Belle
Helène and I heard her screws revolve. I, myself, threw in the donkey
winch as she forged ahead, and so broke out the anchor. It still
swung, clogging her bows as she turned in the current. The bells again
jangled as she got more speed and as the anchor came home. Our
search-light swept a wide arc along the foot of Natchez Hill, as our
bows circled about and headed down the great river. And now we picked
in full view, hardly sixty fathoms distant, the dingey, pulled
furiously toward us. My friend, the varlet Cal Davidson, half stood in
the stern of the stubby craft and waved at us an excited hand.