Wild Norene/Chapter 9

MOMENT they stood, while the gunboat crept nearer, and in the silence they could hear the slow beating of her screws, the creaking of davits as boats were prepared to be lowered away.

That pitiless light revealed everything on the Amingo's deck. A dash below, an attempt to get arms, a movement even might call forth a shell that would crash into the vessel or the rigging or scatter death among those on deck.

Señor Guerrero's face was white as chalk, and his teeth chattered. None knew better than he what capture meant—that there would be no red tape about the matter.

A trip to the shore—a squad—flashes of fire—then the hereafter.

The search-light and the whining shell had struck fear to the hearts of the men. Instinctively one of them put up his hands, as if he had been covered with a revolver. Others trembled, some showed acute nervousness, some growled angrily.

Sally Wood was behind a mast, where the light did not strike her. Wild Norene, still clutching the revolver, turned and faced the glare of the light. Her face expressed no fear, only patient resignation.

Two men had been below in the small boat, and now they came scrambling to the deck to join their fellows.

"We'll be shot—shot!" one of them was mumbling.

"Shot by greasers!"

The search-light had startled Jack Connor, too. For a moment he had stood silent, a tumult of thoughts in his mind. He, too, knew what it meant.

Then he thought of Norene and of Sally Wood. He knew how the men regarded Norene. They would hold her equally to blame with her uncle.

For Norene it probably meant prison or death or worse. No courtesy would be shown her, no respect.

Connor looked at her where she stood gazing into the face of the light. Love for her swelled his heart.

This was the time to make the fight, he decided; even if she detested him, that did not prohibit him making a fight for her sake. True love, even when hopeless, calls forth sacrifice.

Now they could hear oars creaking. The boats from the gunboat were coming. In a moment men from her would be swarming over the deck of the Amingo, taking prisoners.

And that search-light held them in thrall, and behind it, Connor knew, were big guns ready for firing when an officer gave the word.

Yet it would do no good to stand and wait for capture and what capture meant. A fight seemed hopeless, but a fight would relieve the tension.

And always, even in the most hopeless fight, there is the slim chance that the god of battle may prove capricious. "Arms! Where are they?" Connor asked in a hoarse whisper, without making a move.

One of the men answered him in a similar manner.

"We all have 'em—in th' forecastle, sir! And th' cap'n has some! If th' cap'n was here—"

"Pay attention!" Connor said. "When I give the word, rush for the forecastle and arm yourselves. Miss Adams, you go to the companionway; you'd best go below and take Sally Wood with you. You, Guerrero, may do as you blamed please!"

They waited; the boats from the gunboat came nearer.

"Now!" Connor shouted.

His shout seemed to rouse them. With cries and curses the men dashed across the deck, some of them shielding their faces from the strong light, many of them expecting to hear the crash of a shell.

Norene darted to the companionway, dragging Sally Wood with her. Connor and Morgan ran with the men. They gained the forecastle, and revolvers and knives were torn from bunks and from the wall.

It flashed over Connor again that this was to be a hopeless combat. Even if they overcame the boarding party, there was the gunboat ready to sink them. And the Amingo was anchored.

But the men were frenzied now. Prison or execution stared them in the face, and they were the sort who'd rather die fighting.

Out on the deck again they grouped near the bowsprit, holding their weapons ready, trying to keep in the shadows as much as possible.

"Wait until they're on deck, then mix!" Connor was shouting. "The gunboat won't dare fire then, for fear of hitting her own men!"

The small boats reached the Amingo's side. On the gunboat a bugle was blowing a signal, and some officer was trying to megaphone a warning to the boarding party.

Then they came over the side, in two places, a swarm of some thirty men, two officers In command. Garza himself was there, intent on taking the filibuster and Guerrero.

And Connor saw that Riney was with him.

Riney had a score to settle with Captain Bill Adams—he had a score to settle with Connor for that beating in the Astoria resort.

A chorus of yells and shrieks, a volley of shot, a fusillade from the gunboat's men, and then they were at it hand-to-hand on the deck, in the glaring illumination of the search-light.

The men of the Amingo were fighting for liberty and life; the men from the gunboat were urged on by their officers.

Connor found himself in the thick of it, with faithful Morgan at his side fighting like a wild man with his knife. Revolvers cracked in their ears, exploding powder burned their faces.

Señor Guerrero already was a prisoner, for Garza had attended to him first.

Amidships they fought, but the men from the gunboat, by the weight of their superior numbers, were driving the Amingo's men aft.

Connor saw Morgan slip and fall, but he was up in an instant. But some of the Mexicans were between them now, and the friends were denied the advantage of fighting back to back.

A bellow of rage assailed Connor's ears—and he faced Riney.

"Now, my fine buck!" Riney shouted, and followed it with a volley of curses.

It was a hand-to-hand conflict. Connor's revolver was empty; he had but a knife. Riney had a revolver at his hip, but he fought with a knife, too, for he was handy with the weapon, and he was a man who liked to see his foe's blood.

They clashed, parted, clashed again, now slipping on the slippery deck, now fighting toward one rail and now toward the other, but always going aft.

Connor found he had no mean antagonist—he knew he was fighting for his life.

Riney's knife found his side, but the wound was not deep. In turn he ripped the man's forearm. Save for them, the battle was at an end, and the men of the Amingo had been vanquished.

Some of the Mexicans rushed toward them.

"Back! This is my fight!" Riney roared at them.

Garza ordered them back. Riney had stipulated that he was to have a chance at Connor alone. He knew Connor had been shanghaied by Captain Adams, and that was why he had sailed with the gunboat.

Riney was the sort that doesn't forgive a beating.

Again they clashed, fought around and around, both tiring. Connor called forth his last ounce of strength and forced his foe. Again he felt the knife bite into his side. Again he drew blood on his adversary.

Then a lucky stroke came for him. and Riney's knife flew from his hand and over the side.

Connor, too weak to follow up his advantage, too generous to take the advantage of an unarmed antagonist, perhaps, staggered backward, gasping for breath.

But Riney, with a cry of rage, sprang backward, too. His hand dived at his hip; came up holding the revolver.

"Now, curse you!"

Two screams rang in Connor's ears—for behind him, at the mouth of the companionway, Norene and Sally Wood had been watching the combat.

A rush across the deck, a body before his own— The crack of Riney's weapon, and a scream of pain as its hot messenger struck home. Cries of horror from more than one throat. On the deck at Connor's feet a stricken human being who had saved him.

It was not Wild Norene Adams, for, though she had rushed forward, another had been before her. It was Sally Wood.

The men were still. Riney, still cursing, walked forward to look at his work.

"Some fool woman!" he muttered.

Connor had knelt beside her and was trying to lift her. Norene stood beside him, and the wild girl of the sea had tears in her eyes. Sally Wood's eyes had opened; she looked up at Connor and smiled.

Then she looked at Riney, standing less than six feet away, the smoking revolver still in his hand.

"I've—found—you!" she gasped. "And this—is my—revenge! Perhaps you'll think—of me—the next time you plan to desert a woman and child—or rob—an old man."

The man was staring at her. His revolver dropped to the deck. A look of horror came into his face.

"You left me—to starve," she whispered. "Left me—your wife—and your baby, too. And you took every cent my father had—my old father—who suffered from hunger before he died—because of what you did. I've always said I'd find you—and have my revenge. And this—is my revenge! Wife-murderer!"

She screamed the last words at him, and the man staggered backward, holding his hands before his face.

The Mexicans, realizing the drama they were seeing enacted, stood like statues, and regarded Riney with scorn and sudden hatred.

Sally Wood looked up at Jack Connor again, and tried to smile.

"Jack," she said, so low that he could scarcely hear. "I think—I loved you—a little. But there is—Norene—"

And with that she died.

Norene was sobbing as Connor got slowly to his feet and looked at Riney. The expression in the mate's face was not pretty to see.

"Give the cur a knife!" Connor cried to Garza. "Let the wife-murderer stand before me again!"

But Garza knew a better way.

"The man had committed a murder, and we are in Mexican waters," he said. He stepped up and clapped a hand on Riney's shoulder.

"Irons, here!" he commanded, and two of his men stepped forward and obeyed.