ECURELY bound, Captain Korry lay huddled beside the bridge. No word of protest had come from him during the hurried preparations for sailing; nor did he lift his voice once the Flamingo was under way. To all outward appearances he accepted his defeat with a Spartan philosophy and was resigned to the inevitable penalty that awaited the signaling of the Federal cutter.
Whimpering or railing against the vagaries of a career devoted to constant lawlessness found no place in Korry's lexicon of life. He ever flirted with danger and did not shrink from the consequences it often entailed. Stoically he faced disaster.
Dawn came across the sky with all its splendor of rose and gold and pearl. The near-by shore became a fairyland of rainbow color that hovered mysteriously between sky and water. Myriad birds appeared on every side—screaming gulls, whistling snipe, and silent, grotesque pelicans. Snowy herons, majestic in their flight and resembling figures on a Japanese screen, winged their way above the treetops.
The glory of a new and radiant day touched the shimmering Gulf and caressed the trim white yacht that sped across its depths.
The two conspirators watched the ever-shifting scenes in appreciative silence, forgetful of what had passed and perhaps indifferent to an unsuspected peril that menaced their conquest. They were far too absorbed in the magic of the glittering east, with its retinue of birds and trailing robes of color, to keep a vigilant eye upon the mist-hung deck behind them.
Korry, however, who had no eyes for the beauties of that particular dawn, saw that which was of far greater significance and comfort. A relieved smile hovered about his lips. Good luck had ever attended him in the past. It did not seem ready to desert him in the present hour of trial.
The Flamingo sailed on as the day brightened, and the fiery ball of the sun mounted into a cloudless sky from behind the tall, feathery crowned palms. The early mists vanished, and the water became crystal clear, splotched with turquoise and jade and all the alluring shades between.
Brant bestirred himself. “Perhaps I had better take a look at our friends below,” he suggested at length. “Don't suppose they are any too comfortable. Ought to remove the gags.”
“You might prevail upon the cook to brew some coffee,” the girl suggested, turning to smile upon her companion.
“Yes; I might,” he returned. “A bit of breakfast wouldn't be unwelcome.”
On his way aft, Brant stopped in front of Korry, whose placid countenance and resigned air seemed to indicate an untroubled spirit, It was so marked that Brant was forced to admire his prisoner who could face a dismal future uncomplainingly.
“You don't look at all downcast this morning, captain,” he observed jocularly.
The chink runner favored his captor with a bland, inscrutable smile, but did not seem moved to make reply.
Brant passed on with a shrug. Any number of questions were on his lips—questions that he felt certain Korry could answer, particularly those concerning Dixon; but, after reflection, he decided to postpone the interview until Meech had been visited.
The Flamingo engineer, who seemed to be in the smuggler's confidence, might be tempted to reveal valuable evidence,. provided it brought him hope of clemency.
Brant turned to descend the narrow companionway that led to the stateroom corridor below. Halfway down, blissfully unaware of the disaster that awaited him, his legs were encircled and wrenched from under him. The thing happened with such amazing swiftness that he was unable to cry out a warning to the girl at the wheel.
Instantly, so it seemed, he was sprawled upon the corridor floor. His head crashed into something that might have been the toe of a heavy boot. In the uncertain light, dim forms pounced upon him; a none-too-gentle hand was thrust against his mouth to prevent an outcry; fingers clawed at his throat. Fists, leaping out of the darkness, pommeled him brutally; and while he kicked and squirmed and fought desperately against overwhelming odds, his wind shut off and his brain reeling, the curtain of oblivion descended with a crash.
Yet an instant before his mind ceased to function, it flashed to Brant that, in some inexplicable manner, the Chinese had broken from their quarters and intended to take possession of the ship. In no other way could he account for the disaster that had overtaken him.