For the Term of His Natural Life
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Rufus Dawes, overpowered by the revelation so suddenly made to him, hadremained for a few moments motionless in his cell, expecting to hearthe heavy clang of the outer door, which should announce to him thedeparture of the chaplain. But he did not hear it, and it seemed to himthat the air in the cell had grown suddenly cooler. He went to thedoor, and looked into the narrow corridor, expecting to see the scowlingcountenance of Gimblett. To his astonishment the door of the prison waswide open, and not a soul in sight. His first thought was of North.Had the story he had told, coupled with the entreaties he had lavished,sufficed to turn him from his purpose?
He looked around. The night was falling suddenly; the wind was mounting;from beyond the bar came the hoarse murmur of an angry sea. If theschooner was to sail that night, she had best get out into deep waters.Where was the chaplain? Pray Heaven the delay had been sufficient, andthey had sailed without him. Yet they would be sure to meet. He advanceda few steps nearer, and looked about him. Was it possible that, in hismadness, the chaplain had been about to commit some violence which haddrawn the trusty Gimblett from his post? "Gr-r-r-r! Ouph!" The trustyGimblett was lying at his feet--dead drunk!
"Hi! Hiho! Hillo there!" roared somebody from the jetty below. "Be thatyou, Muster Noarth? We ain't too much tiam, sur!"
From the uncurtained windows of the chaplain's house on the hill beamedthe newly-lighted candle. They in the boat did not see it, but itbrought to the prisoner a wild hope that made his heart bound. He ranback to the cell, clapped on North's wide-awake, and flinging the cloakhastily about him, came quickly down the steps. If the moon should shineout now!
"Jump in, sir," said unsuspecting Mannix, thinking only of the flogginghe had been threatened with. "It'll be a dirty night, this night! Putthis over your knees, sir. Shove her off! Give way!" And they wereafloat. But one glimpse of moonlight fell upon the slouched hat andcloaked figure, and the boat's crew, engaged in the dangerous task ofnavigating the reef in the teeth of the rising gale, paid no attentionto the chaplain.
"By George, lads, we're but just in time!" cried Mannix; and they laidalongside the schooner, black in blackness. "Up ye go, yer honour,quick!" The wind had shifted, and was now off the shore. Blunt, who hadbegun to repent of his obstinacy, but would not confess it, thought thenext best thing to riding out the gale was to get out to open sea. "Damnthe parson," he had said, in all heartiness; "we can't wait all nightfor him. Heave ahead, Mr. Johnson!" And so the anchor was atrip as RufusDawes ran up the side.
The Commandant, already pulling off in his own boat, roared a coarsefarewell. "Good-bye, North! It was touch and go with ye!" adding, "Cursethe fellow, he's too proud to answer!"
The chaplain indeed spoke to no one, and plunging down the hatchway,made for the stern cabins. "Close shave, your reverence!" said arespectful somebody, opening a door. It was; but the clergyman did notsay so. He double-locked the door, and hardly realizing the danger hehad escaped, flung himself on the bunk, panting. Over his head he heardthe rapid tramp of feet and the cheery,
Yo hi-oh! and a rumbelow!
of the men at the capstan. He could smell the sea, and through the openwindow of the cabin could distinguish the light in the chaplain's houseon the hill. The trampling ceased, the vessel began to move slowly--theCommandant's boat appeared below him for an instant, making her wayback--the Lady Franklin had set sail. With his eyes fixed on the tinylight, he strove to think what was best to be done. It was hopelessto think that he could maintain the imposture which, favoured by thedarkness and confusion, he had hitherto successfully attempted. He wascertain to be detected at Hobart Town, even if he could lie concealedduring his long and tedious voyage. That mattered little, however. Hehad saved Sylvia, for North had been left behind. Poor North! Asthe thought of pity came to him, the light he looked at was suddenlyextinguished, and Rufus Dawes, compelled thereto as by an irresistiblepower, fell upon his knees and prayed for the pardon and happiness ofthe man who had redeemed him.
* * * * *
"That's a gun from the shore," said Partridge the mate, "and they'reburning a red light. There's a prisoner escaped. Shall we lie-to?"
"Lie-to!" cried old Blunt, with a tremendous oath. "We'll have suthin'else to do. Look there!"
The sky to the northward was streaked with a belt of livid green colour,above which rose a mighty black cloud, whose shape was ever changing.
CHAPTER XVIII. THE CYCLONE.
Blunt, recognising the meteoric heralds of danger, had begun to regrethis obstinacy. He saw that a hurricane was approaching.