"Sounds like a woman's voice, sir," the sailor said wonderingly. "Shall I call Mr. Fox?"
"No. Tell the rest of the watch to stand quiet—and ready. It may be a trick."
The night was lighted only by a few stars showing through an overcast. Scott strained his ears and eyes.
"Mr. Fox!"
Scott jumped. The sound was almost under his feet. He caught up a lantern and held it over the side. A face shone wanly white in the glare.
"Dorcas!"
"You!"
He made haste to help her into the ship. She stayed him momentarily. "Your coat... please!"
He thought she had taken leave of her senses. His voice sharpened as he reached down to her. "Your arm, girl! Let me have your arm! There are sharks in that water!"
Clinging to the rail with one hand and reaching down with the other, he caught one slender wrist. She came out of the water exhausted ... a dead weight that he was hard put to lift.
"Catch the rail!" he ordered. "I can't lift you over it this way."
She obeyed unquestioningly.
"Now get your arms around my neck and hang on," he said commandingly. "Then I can hoist you."
Again she obeyed, and now he lifted her to the rail and with his free arm caught her around the waist and lifted her over into the light of a lantern held by a curious sailor. Other men of the watch grouped behind their mate.
She collapsed weakly against Scott, conscious but too spent to speak or stand alone. Her arms hung limply, her breath came and went in great, throat-searing gasps, and violent tremors racked her slender body. In a lush of gladness for her safety he kissed the top of her head, which smelled of the sea, and pulled her closer to him. Then, suddenly, he became aware that she was almost naked, her slender body partially covered by a thin, water-soaked cotton undergarment that clung like skin. In the light she appeared nude.
"Douse that light!" Scott rasped. "Get the hell away from here!"
The sailors jumped to obey, their eyes wide. Scott picked Dorcas up easily and carried her to his cabin. She stirred in his arms as he entered.
"Oh Scott!" she whispered painfully. "Oh, I'm—so—glad —to—find you—here! So glad."
He laid her on his bunk and wrapped her in a wool blanket, then got out a bottle of rum and made her take a swallow. She gasped and choked and coughed.
Fox burst in then, not even bothering to knock. "Dorcas!"
She managed a faint smile of recognition.
The mate looked accusingly at the captain. "She called me, they said."
"I did," she told him. "I—didn't—know—the captain—was aboard."
"Let her rest a little, Mr. Fox," Scott said.
"You—swam out here?" Fox asked, paying no attention.
She nodded tiredly.
"Get her some hot tea, Fox," Scott said. "It'll do her more good than rum."
Fox departed hurriedly and unwillingly, masking his resentment of the command that sent him briefly from Dorcas' presence. In the brief time of his supremacy in the Caroline he had spent comparatively little time with her; for Bryant somehow had managed to monopolize her attention. Now the captain was trying to do the same thing. Remembering that from the water she had cried out to him, Fox cursed the cook for his slowness in preparing the hot drink.
In the cabin Dorcas turned dark, troubled eyes on Scott. Her breathing was easier, though, and she had ceased to tremble. He saw she was about to speak and he stopped her. "Don't talk yet. Wait."
"I must tell you, Scott," she said urgently. "I—" "Wait!" he interrupted sharply. "Rest first." She subsided, not minding the harshness in his voice. He looked down at her speculatively, wondering how far she had swum... what nameless dangers she had run to reach the brig. He wanted to know, wanted desperately to know, but he could wait a little longer. She looked so small, so frail, so exhausted. He wouldn't let her talk until Fox returned from the galley with the tea; then he helped her sit up to drink the scalding liquid. The loveliness of her body was cloaked effectively by the thick blanket, but he was aware of its warmth and magnetism.
"Now," he said, when she had finished drinking, "now tell us."
She closed her eyes for a moment and her mouth twitched nervously, reflecting the strain she had undergone.
"Lie down again," Scott told her gently. "Then tell us." She lay back gratefully, sighing and trying to arrange in her mind the things she must tell, and finally she spoke in a soft, even voice. "After the ship went aground—after the storm passed—we were attacked. It was still dark, of course, and I was trying to fall asleep. My wakefulness didn't stem so much from the storm as from—well, no matter. Anyway, Zenas—Captain Bryant—did his best to save the ship, but there were too many of them. Scores. They swarmed all over the Sally Culbreath, dragging me from my cabin before the fighting was over. I saw Zenas and my father both knocked down. The fighting didn't last long. It couldn't, there were so many of them and Zenas had so few. We were taken ashore about daylight. None of us was killed, although some were hurt.
"We were taken into the jungle, not far from the town, and everybody is there now... except me."
"How did you get away?" Scott asked.
"They kept me apart from the others, in a little shelter by myself. I—I was being kept for some rajah, I gathered; at any rate, I wasn't molested, except for the rough handling when the ship was taken. I couldn't see anything that was going on, but I could hear some things—my God, I could hear! I heard poor Zenas scream twice yesterday afternoon. The guard at my door said he was being tortured."
"The money in the Sally, I guess," Scott said thoughtfully. "Evidently they didn't find enough to suit them."
"You're probably right," she said gravely. "Anyway, the guard set over me fell asleep when the camp quieted down at night. He was drunk, I think. I crawled out of the back of my hut; the walls were flimsy and the hut was set on the ground, not on pilings. In the darkness I was terrified. I couldn't think of any way to free the others. Besides, I was afraid I'd be apprehended and then nobody would reach the Caroline."
"You are very brave," Fox said suddenly. "Very courageous."
She shook her head violently. "No, I'm not. I was in terror the whole time: while I was a captive and while I was making my way here. Somehow I found the path we had used— they took us through Quallah Battoo—and I ran and fell down and got up and ran some more. I almost ran into the town. I turned to the right and finally got to the water. I entered it and waded and swam. By then I was so tired I'd even lost some of my fear of being followed... so tired I felt it would be easier and better to drown. But when I saw the ship, I just couldn't quit trying to reach her."
"You must have come down the main branch of the river," Scott said.
"I didn't go through the town. I remembered the small stream going through it and I crossed it."
"Then you passed Darus' camp on the south bank of the river."
"I don't know. I couldn't see anything much. I suppose I was in the middle of the river."
Scott rubbed his chin. "Well, thanks to you, we know your father and the Sally's company are alive. Do you think you could tell us how to find this camp in the jungle? You mentioned a path from the town."
"I'm sure I can," she said eagerly.
"Do you know whether or not the pirates were from Quallah Battoo?"
"I don't know. You're going to try to rescue my father and —and the others?"
"Of course," he said matter-of-factly.
Still swathed in the cocoon of warm wool, she sat up suddenly, her eyes glowing. "I'll show you the way. Let me!"
"No," he told her bluntly. "You've done your part. Besides, you're in no condition to march. You'll stay aboard under Mr. Fox's protection."