CHAPTER IX
THE HAND OF FATE
Like a panther Nathaniel crouched and watched the man on the steps. Hismuscles jerked, his hands were clenched; each instant he seemed about tospring. But he held himself back until Strang had passed through thedoor. Then he slipped along the log wall of the castle, hugging theshadows, fearing that the king might reappear and see him in time toclose the door. What an opportunity fate had made for him! His fingersitched to get at Strang's thick bull-like throat. He felt no fear, nohesitation about the outcome of the struggle with this giant prophet ofGod. He did not plan to shoot, for a shot would destroy the secret ofMarion's fate. He would choke the truth from Strang; rob him of lifeslowly, gasp by gasp, until in the horror of death the king would revealher hiding-place--would tell what he had done with her.
Then he would kill him!
There was the strength of tempered steel in his arms; his body, slenderas an athlete's, quivered to hurl itself into action. Up the steps hecrept so cautiously that he made no sound. In the intensity of hispurpose Nathaniel looked only ahead of him--to the door. He did not seethat another figure was stealing through the gloom behind him ascautiously, as quietly as himself. He passed through the door and stooderect. Strang had not seen him. He had not heard him. He was standingwith his huge back toward him, facing the hall that led to the sixthchamber--and the woman. Nathaniel drew his pistol. He would not shoot,but Strang might be made to tell the truth with death leveling itself athis heart. He groped behind him, found the door, and slammed it shut.There would be no retreat for the king!
And the man who turned toward him at the slamming of that door, turnedslowly, coolly, and gazed into the black muzzle of his pistol looked,indeed, every inch of him a king. The muscles of his face betrayed nosurprise, no fear. His splendid nerve was unshaken, his eyes unfalteringas they rose above the pistol to the face behind it. For fifteen secondsthere was a strange terrible silence as the eyes of the two men met. Inthat quarter of a minute Nathaniel knew that he had not guessed rightly.Strang was not afraid. He would not tell him where Marion was. Theinsuperable courage of this man maddened Captain Plum and unconsciouslyhis finger fell upon the trigger of his pistol. He almost shrieked thewords that he meant to speak calmly:
"Where is Marion?"
"She is safe, Captain Plum. She is where the friends who are invading usfrom the mainland will have no chance of finding her."
Strang spoke as quietly as though in his own office beside the temple.Suddenly he raised his voice.
"She is safe, Captain Plum--safe!"
His eyes wavered, and traveled beyond. As accurately as a strikingserpent Nathaniel measured that glance. It had gone to the door. Heheard a movement, felt a draft of air, and in an instant he whirledabout with his pistol pointed to the door. In another instant he hadfired and the huge form of Arbor Croche toppled headlong into the room.A roar like that of a beast came from behind him and before he couldturn again Strang was upon him. In that moment he felt that all waslost. Under the weight of the Mormon king he was crushed to the floor;his pistol slipped from his grasp; two great hands choked a despairingcry from his throat. He saw the prophet's face over him, distorted withpassion, his huge neck bulging, his eyes flaming like angry garnets. Hestruggled to free his pinioned arms, to wrench off the death grip at histhroat, but his efforts were like those of a child against a giant. In alast terrible attempt he drew up his knees inch by inch under theweight of his enemy; it was his only chance--his only hope. Even as hefelt the fingers about his throat sinking like hot iron into his fleshand the breath slipping from his body he remembered this murderousknee-punch of the rough fighters of the inland seas and with all thelife that remained in him he sent it crushing into the abdomen of theMormon king. It was a moment before he knew that it had been successful,before the film cleared from his eyes and he saw Strang groveling at hisfeet; another moment and he had hurled himself on the prophet. His fistshot out like a hammer against Strang's jaw. Again and again he struckuntil the great shaggy head fell back limp. Then his fingers twinedthemselves like the links of a chain about the purplish throat and hechoked until Strang's eyes opened wide and lifeless and his convulsionsceased. He would have held on until there was no doubt of the end, hadnot the king's wife--the woman whose misery he had shared thatnight--suddenly flung herself with a piercing cry, between him and theblackened face, clutching at his hands with all her fragile strength.
His fingers twined about the purplish throat.]
"My God, you are killing him--killing him!" she moaned.
Her eyes blazed as she tore at his fingers.
"You are killing him--killing him!" she shrieked. "He has not destroyedMarion! You said you would take her and leave him--for me--" She struckher head against his breast, tearing the flesh of his wrists with hernails.
Nathaniel loosened his grip and staggered to his feet.
"For you!" he panted. "If you had only come--a little sooner--" Hestumbled to his pistol and picked it up. "I am afraid he is--dead!"
He did not look back.
Arbor Croche barred the door. He had not moved since he had fallen. Hishead was twisted so that his face was turned to the glow of the lampand Nathaniel shuddered as he saw where his shot had struck. He hadapparently died with that last cry on his lips.
There was no longer a fear of the Mormons in Nathaniel. He believed theking and Arbor Croche dead, and that in the gloom and excitement of thenight he could go among the people of St. James undiscovered. A greatload was lifted from his soul, for if he had not been in time to saveMarion he had at least delivered her after a short bondage. He had nowonly to find Marion and she would go with him, for she loved him--andStrang was no more.
He hurried through the grove toward the temple. Even before he had comenear to it he could see that a great crowd had congregated there. Thestreet which he passed was deserted. No lights shone in the houses. Eventhe dogs were gone. For the first time he understood what it meant. Thewhole town had fled to that huge log stronghold for protection.Buildings and trees shut out his view seaward but he could see theflare of great fires mounting into the sky and he knew that those whowere not at the temple were guarding the shore.
Suddenly he almost fell over a figure in his path. It was an old womanmumbling and sobbing incoherently as she stumbled weakly in thedirection of the temple. Like an inspiration the thought came to himthat here was his opportunity of gaining admittance to that multitude ofwomen and children. He seized the old woman by the arm and spoke wordsof courage to her as he half carried her on her way. A few minutes moreand a blaze of light burst upon them and the great square in which thetemple was situated lay open before them. Half a hundred yards ahead afire was burning; oil and pine sent their lurid flame high up into thenight, and in the thick gloom behind it, intensified by the blindingglare, Nathaniel saw the shadows of men. He caught the old woman in hisarms and went on boldly. He passed close to a thin line of waiting men,saw the faint glint of firelight on their rifles, and staggering pastthem unchallenged with his weight he stopped for a moment to look back.The effect was startling. Beyond the three great fires that blazedaround the temple the clearing was bathed in a sea of light; in itsconcealment of giant trees the temple was buried in gloom. From thegloom a hundred cool men might slaughter five times their numbercharging across that illumined death-square!
Nathaniel could not repress a shudder as he looked. Screened behind eachof the three fires was a cannon. He figured that there were more than ahundred rifles in that silent cordon of men. What was there on theopposite side of the temple?
He turned with the old woman and joined the throng that was seethingabout the temple doors. There were women, children and old men, crushingand crowding, fighting with panic-stricken fierceness for admittance tothe thick log walls. Through the doors there came the low thunder ofcountless voices pierced by the shrill cries of little children. Foot byfoot Nathaniel fought his way up the steps. At the top were drawn adozen men forming barriers with their ri
fles. One of them shoved himback.
"Not you!" he shouted. "This is for the women!"
Nathaniel fell back, filled with horror. A glance had shown him the vastdimly lighted interior of the temple packed to suffocation. What sinshad this people wrought that it thus feared the vengeance of the menfrom the mainland! He felt the sweat break out upon his face as hethought of Marion being in that mob, tired and fainting with herterrible day's experience--perhaps dying under the panic-stricken feetof those stronger than herself. He hoped now for that which at first hadfilled him with despair--that Strang had hidden Marion away from theterror and suffocation of this multitude that fought for its breathwithin the temple. Freeing himself of the crowd he ran to the fartherside of the building. A fourth fire blazed in his face. But on this sidethere was no cannon; scarcely a score of men were guarding the rear ofthe temple.
For a full minute he stood concealed in the gloom. He realized now thatit would be useless to return to Obadiah. The old councilor couldprobably have told him all that he had discovered for himself; thatMarion had gone to the castle--that Strang intended to make her hisbride that night. But did Obadiah know that the castle had beenabandoned? Did he know that the king's wives had sought refuge in thetemple, and did he know where Marion was hidden? Nathaniel could assurehimself but one answer; Obadiah, struck down by his strange madness, wasmore ignorant than he himself of what had occurred at St. James.
While he paused a heavy noise arose that quickened his heart-beats andsent the blood through his veins in wild excitement. From far down bythe shore there came the roar of a cannon. It was closely followed by asecond and a third, and hardly was the night shaken by their thunderthan a mighty cheering of men swept up from the fire-rimmed coast. Thebattle had begun! Nathaniel leaped out into the glow of the greatblazing fire beyond the temple; he heard a warning shout as he dartedpast the men; for an instant he saw their white faces staring at himfrom the firelight--heard a second shout, which he knew was acommand--and was gone. Half a dozen rifles cracked behind him and a yellof joyful defiance burst from his throat as the bullets hissed over hishead. The battle had begun! Another hour and the Mormon kingdom would beat the mercy of the avenging host from the mainland--and Marion would behis own for ever! He heard again the deep rumble of a heavy gun and fromits sullen detonation he knew that it was fired from a ship at sea. Anearer crash of returning fire turned him into a deserted street downwhich he ran wildly, on past the last houses of the town, until he cameto the foot of a hill up which he climbed more slowly, panting like awinded animal.
From its top he could look down upon the scene of battle. To theeastward stretched the harbor line with its rim of fires. A glanceshowed him that the fight was not to center about these. They had servedtheir purpose, had forced the mainlanders to seek a landing farther downthe coast. The light of dawn had already begun to disperse the thickgloom of night and an eighth of a mile below Nathaniel the Mormon forceswere creeping slowly along the shore. The pale ghostly mistiness of thesea hung like a curtain between him and what was beyond, and even as hestrained his eyes to catch a glimpse of the avenging fleet a vivid lightleaped out of the white distance, followed by the thunder of a cannon.He saw the head of the Mormon line falter. In an instant it had beenthrown into confusion. A second shot from the sea--a storm of cheeringvoices from out of that white chaos of mist--and the Mormons fell backfrom the shore in a panic-stricken, fleeing mob. Were those frightenedcowards the fierce fighters of whom he had heard so much? Were they themen who had made themselves masters of a kingdom in the land of theirenemies--whose mere name carried terror for a hundred miles along thecoast? He was stupefied, bewildered. He made no effort to concealhimself as they approached the hill, but drew his pistol, ready to firedown upon them as they came. Suddenly there was a change. So quicklythat he could scarcely believe his eyes the flying Mormons haddisappeared. Not a man was visible upon that narrow plain between thehill and the sea. Like a huge covey of quail they had dropped to theground, their rifles lost in that ghostly gloom through which the voicesof the mainlanders came in fierce cries of triumph. It was magnificent!Even as the crushing truth of what it all meant came to him, thefighting blood in his veins leaped at the sight of it--the pretendedeffect of the shots from sea, the sham confusion, the disorderlyflight, the wonderful quickness and precision with which the rabble ofarmed men had thrown itself into ambush!
Would the mainlanders rush into the trap? Had some keen eye seen thoseshadowy forms dropping through the mist? Each instant the ghostly pallthat shut out vision seaward seemed drifting away. Nathaniel's staringeyes saw a vague shape appear in it, an indistinct dirt-gray blotch, andhe knew that it was a boat. Another followed, and then another; he heardthe sound of oars, the grinding of keels upon the sand, and where theMormons had been a few moments before the beach was now alive withmainlanders. In the growing light he could make out the king's men belowhim, inanimate spots in the middle of the narrow plain. Helpless hestood clutching his pistol, the horror in him growing with each breath.Could he give no warning? Could he do nothing--nothing--At least hecould join in the fight! He ran down the hill, swinging to the left ofthe Mormons. Half way, and he stopped as a thundering cheer swept upfrom the shore. The mainlanders had started toward the hill! Withoutrank, without order--shouting their triumph as they came they wererushing blindly into the arms of the ambush! A shriek of warning leftNathaniel's lips. It was drowned in a crash of rifle fire. Volley aftervolley burst from that shadowy stretch of plain. Before the furious firethe van of the mainlanders crumpled into ruin. Like chaff before a windthose behind were swept back. Apparently they were flying withoutwaiting to fire a shot! Nathaniel dashed down into the plain. Ahead ofhim the Mormons were charging in a solid line, and in another moment theshore had become a mass of fighting men. Far to the left he saw a groupof the mainlanders running along the beach toward the conflict. If hecould only intercept them--and bring them into the rear! Like the windhe sped to cut them off, shouting and firing his pistol.
He won by a hundred yards and stood panting as they came toward him.Dawn had dispelled the mist-gloom and as the mainlanders drew nearer hediscerned in their lead a figure that brought a cry of joy from hislips.
"Neil!" he shouted. "Neil--"
He turned as Marion's brother darted to his side.
"This way--from behind!"
The two led the way, side by side, followed by a dozen men. A glancetold Nathaniel that nothing much less than a miracle could turn the tideof battle. Half of the mainlanders were fighting in the water. Otherswere struggling desperately to get away in the boats. Foot by foot theMormons were crushing them back, their battle cries now turned intodemoniac yells of victory. Into the rear of the struggling mass, firingas they ran, charged the handful of men behind Captain Plum and Neil.For a little space the king's men gave way before them and with wildcheers the powerful fishermen from the coast fought their way towardtheir comrades. Many of them were armed with long knives; some hadpistols; others used their empty rifles as clubs. A dozen more men andthey would have split like a wedge through the Mormon mass. Above thedin of battle Nathaniel's voice rose in thundering shouts to the men inthe sea, and close beside him he heard Neil shrieking out a name betweenhis blows. Like demons they fought straight ahead, slashing with theirknives. The Mormon line was thinning. The mainlanders had turned andwere fighting their way back, gaining foot by foot what they had lost.Suddenly there came a terrific cheer from the plain and the hope thathad flamed in Nathaniel's breast died out as he heard it. He knew whatit meant--that the Mormons at St. James had come to reinforce theircomrades. He fought now to reach the boats, calling to Neil, whom hecould no longer see. Even in that moment he thought of Marion. His onlychance was to escape with the others, his only hope of wresting her fromthe kingdom lay in his own freedom. He had waited too long. A crushingblow fell upon him from behind and with a last cry to Neil he sank underthe trampling feet. Indistinctly there came to him the surging shock ofthe fresh body of Mormons. The din about
him became fainter and fainteras though he was being carried rapidly away from it; shouting voicescame to him in whispers, and deadened sounds, like the quick tapping ofa finger on his forehead, were all that he heard of the steady riflefire that pursued the defeated mainlanders in their flight.
After a little he began struggling back into consciousness. There was asplitting pain somewhere in his head and he tried to reach his hand toit.
"You won't have to carry him," he heard a voice say. "Give him a littlewater and he'll walk."
He felt the dash of the water in his face and it put new life into him.Somebody had raised him to a sitting posture and was supporting himthere while a second person bound a cloth about his head. He opened hiseyes and the light of day shot into them like a stinging, burning chargeof needle-points, and he closed them again with a sharp cry of pain.That second's glance had shown him that it was a woman who was bindinghis head. He had not seen her face. Beyond her he had caught a halfformed vision of many people and the glistening edge of the sea, and ashe lay with closed eyes the murmur of voices came to him. The support athis back was taken away, slowly, as if the person who held him fearedthat he would fall. Nathaniel stiffened himself to show his returningstrength and opened his eyes again. This time the pain was not so great.A few yards away he saw a group of people and among them were women;still farther away, so far that his brain grew dizzy as he looked, therewas a black moving crowd. He was among the wounded. The Mormon womenwere here. Down there along the shore--among the dead--had assembled thepopulation of St. James.
A strange sickness overpowered him and he sank back against hissupporter. A cool hand passed over his face. It was a soothing, gentletouch--the hand of the woman. He felt the sweep of soft hair against hischeek--a breath whispering in his ear.
"You will be better soon."
His heart stood still.
"You will be better--"
Against his rough cheek there fell the soft pressure of a woman's lips.
Nathaniel pulled himself erect, every drop of blood in him striving forthe mastery of his body, his vision, his strength. He tried to turn, butstrong arms seized him from behind. A man's voice spoke to him, a man'sstrength held him. In an agony of appeal Marion's name burst from hislips.
"Sh-h-!" warned the voice behind him. "Are you crazy?"
The arms relaxed their hold and Nathaniel dragged himself to his knees.The woman was gone. As far as he could see there were people--scores ofthem, hundreds of them--multiplied into thousands and millions as helooked, until there was only a black cloud about him. He staggered tohis feet and a strong hand kept him from falling while his brain slowlycleared. The millions and thousands and hundreds of people dissolvedthemselves into the day until only a handful was left where he had seenmultitudes. He turned his face weakly to the man beside him.
"Where did she go?" he asked.
It was a boyish face into which his pleading eyes gazed, a face whitewith the strain of battle, reddened a little on one cheek with a smearof blood, and there was a startled, frightened look in it that did notcome of the strife that had passed.
"Who? What are you talking about?"
"The woman," whispered Nathaniel. "The woman--Marion--who kissed--me--"
The young fellow's hand gripped his arm in a sudden fierce clutch.
"You've been dreaming!" he exclaimed in a threatening voice. "Shut up!"He spoke the words loudly. Then quickly dropping his voice to a whisperhe added, "For God's sake don't betray her! They saw her withus--everybody knows that it was the king's wife with you!"
The king's wife! Nathaniel was too weak to analyze the words beyond thefact that they carried the dread truth of his fears deep into his soul.Who would have come to him but Marion? Who else would have kissed him?It was her voice that had whispered in his ear--the thrill of her handthat had passed over his face. And this man had said that she was thewife of the king! He heard the voices of other men near him but did notunderstand what they were saying. He knew that after a moment there wasa man on each side of him holding him by the arms, and mechanically hemoved his legs, knowing that they wanted him to walk. They did not guesshow weak he was--how he struggled to keep from becoming too great aweight on their hands. Once or twice they stopped in their agonizingclimb up the hill. On its top the cool sea air swept into Nathaniel'sface and it was like water to a parched throat.
After a time--it seemed a day of terrible work and pain to him--theycame to the streets of the town, and in a half conscious sort of way hecursed at the rabble trailing at their heels. They passed close to thetemple, dirt and blood and a burning torment shutting the vision of itfrom his eyes, and beyond this there was another crowd. An aisle openedfor them, as it had opened for others ahead of them. In front of thejail they stopped. Nathaniel's head hung heavily upon his breast and hemade no effort to raise it. All ambition and desire had left him, alldesire but one, and that was to drop upon the ground and lie there forendless, restful years. What consciousness was left in him was ebbingswiftly; he saw black, fathomless night about him and the earth seemedslipping from under his feet.
A voice dragged him back into life--a voice that boomed in his ears likerolling thunder and set every fiber in him quivering with emotion. Hedrew himself erect with the involuntary strength of one mastering thelast spasm of death and as they dragged him through the door he sawthere within an arm's reach of him the great, living face of Strang,gloating at him as if from out of a mist--red eyed, white fanged, filledwith the vengefulness of a beast.
The great voice rumbled in his ears again.
"Take that man to the dungeon!"
The Courage of Captain Plum Page 9