Wolves of the Sea | Page 4

was a dashing looking blade, of not
more than forty, attired in blue, slashed coat, ornamented with gilt
buttons, and bedecked at collar and cuffs with a profusion of lace. A
saffron colored waist-coat failed to conceal his richly beruffled shirt,
and the hilt of a rapier was rather prominently displayed. Such dandies
were frequently enough seen, but it was this man's face which made
marked contrast with his gay attire. He was dark, and hook-nosed,
apparently of foreign birth, with black moustache tightly clipped, so as
to reveal the thin firmness of his lips, and even at that distance I could
perceive the lines of a scar across his chin. Altogether there was an
audacity to his face, a daring, convincing me he was no mere lady's
knight, but one to whom fighting was a trade. He was pointing us out to
his companion, apparently joking over our appearance, in an endeavor
to amuse. Seemingly she gave small heed to his words, for although her
eyes followed where he pointed, they never once lighted with a smile,
nor did I see her answer his sallies. She was scarcely more than a girl,
dressed very simply in some clinging dark stuff, with a loose gray
cloak draping her shoulders, and a small, neat bonnet of straw perched
upon a mass of coiled hair. The face beneath was sweetly piquant, with
dark eyes, and rounded cheeks flushed with health. She stood, both
hands clasping the rail, watching us intently. I somehow felt as though
her eyes were upon me, and within their depths, even at that distance, I
seemed to read a message of sympathy and kindness. The one lasting
impression her face left on my memory was that of innocent girlhood,
dignified by a womanly tenderness.
What were those two to each other? I could not guess, for they seemed
from two utterly different worlds. Not brother and sister surely; and not
lovers. The last was unthinkable. Perhaps mere chance acquaintances,
who had drifted together since coming aboard. It seems strange that at
such a moment my attention should have thus centered on these two,
yet I think now that either one would have awakened my interest
wherever we had met. Instinctively I disliked the man, aware of an
instant antagonism, realizing that he was evil; while his companion

came to me as revealment of all that was true and worthy, in a degree I
had never known before. I could not banish either from my mind. For
months I had been in prison, expecting a death sentence, much of the
time passed in solitary confinement, and now, with that cloud lifted, I
had come forth into a fresh existence only to be confronted by this man
and woman, representing exact opposites. Their peculiarities took
immediate possession of a mind entirely unoccupied, nor did I make
any effort to banish them from my thought. From the instant I looked
upon these two I felt convinced that, through some strange vagary of
fate, we were destined to know more of each other; that our life lines
were ordained to touch, and become entangled, somewhere in that
mystery of the Western World to which I had been condemned. I
cannot analyze this conception, but merely record its presence; the
thought took firm possession of me. Under the circumstances I was too
far away to overhear conversation. The shuffling of feet, the rattling of
chains, the harsh voices of the guard, made it impossible to distinguish
any words passing between the two. I could only watch them, quickly
assured that I had likewise attracted the girl's attention, and that her
gaze occasionally sought mine. Then the guards came to me, and, with
my limbs freed of fetters, I was passed down the steep ladder into the
semi-darkness between decks, where we were to be confined. The
haunting memory of her face accompanied me below, already so
clearly defined as to be unforgettable.
It proved a dismal, crowded hole in which we were quartered like so
many cattle, it being merely a small space forward, hastily boxed off by
rough lumber, the sides and ends built up into tiers of bunks, the only
ventilation and light furnished by the open hatch above. The place was
clean enough, being newly fitted for the purpose, but was totally devoid
of furnishings, the only concession to comfort visible was a handful of
fresh straw in each bunk. The men, herded and driven down the ladder,
were crowded into the central space, the majority still on their feet, but
a few squatting dejectedly on the deck. In the dim twilight of that bare
interior their faces scarcely appeared natural, and they conversed in
undertones. Most of the fellows were sober and silent, not a bad lot to
my judgment,