"Did you—find her—Scott?" the New Englander whispered.
"Not yet," Scott answered grimly; and the man's face worked in visible expression of his own fear. "But I will, Zenas. I'll go through the whole ship."
"My God," Bryant mumbled. "My God."
Scott fought down the desire to shout that he, too, was worried, and so tired that he could barely think or get about; that he had all the wounded to consider. He laid a gentle, comradely hand on Bryant's shoulder, and spoke to Hurst. "Help him to my cabin. Put Mr. Russell in there with him."
He got a half-dozen unhurt seamen who were familiar with the structure of the vessel and made a swift, thorough search from stem to stern, looking in every likely place. By now he was afraid Dorcas had been murdered, but he kept that to himself. Finally he went to the wounded, whom Kimbrell already was attending. Then he took a look at Fox's body, which still was sprawled on the larboard gun deck; he noted that the man had been stabbed in the chest as well as shot cleanly through the forehead. But for you, he thought unforgivingly, none of this would have happened; it all originated with you.
Kimbrell came up while he was looking down at the mate's body. "What'll I do with him, sir?"
"Throw him to the sharks."
"Good shark poison, I'd say," the boatswain grunted, turning to the task.
Scott later came on Hurst in the waist with Dams, who had a superficial face wound. The rajah looked so pleased with himself that it occurred to the captain that he didn't know the terms Hurst had made with him. It didn't really matter. Nothing mattered but finding Dorcas. Nevertheless, he spoke to Dams with warmth. "You fought well, brother, and I am grateful."
The rajah grinned genially and winked almost merrily.
"How many'd we lose, sir?" Hurst asked.
"Two. Six more wounded, not counting my pinprick."
"Darus lost a couple, too, and had three wounded pretty badly."
"How'd you leave Captain Bryant and Mr. Russell?"
Hurst shrugged. "Tol'able, I reckon. They're hangin' on, anyway. Both of 'em are a little out of their heads. I'll dose 'em with morphine. That'll let 'em rest. What about th' lady?"
Scott passed a hand over his face in a gesture of utter weariness and near despair. "She's disappeared. Just . . . gone."
"Fox," Hurst murmured. "That no-good son-of-a-bitch. What do we do next?"
"Well have another look through Quallah Battoo, though God knows she wasn't there when we set out."
Hurst looked in the direction of the town. His eyes widened and his lower jaw dropped. His amazement registered on the captain and he looked, too, seeing the small proa being sailed out to the Caroline. It was manned by two men and carried a single passenger clad in a native sarong. Dorcas.
30
UNPREPARED for the weakening wave of relief that swept him at sight of Dorcas returning safely, Scott lurched to the rail and leaned heavily on it. Until now there had been no sweetness in his triumph. She saw him looking her way eagerly and her upturned face became radiant, a clear mirror for her love. For them both, hours seemed to elapse before he helped her into the Caroline; but time stood still when at last they cling fiercely to each other, forgetful for the moment of the existence of any others.
"You're safe, Scott!" she whispered almost unbelievingly, her fingers caressing the thick hair at the nape of his neck. "Safe!"
"After we took the ship I searched for you," he said huskily. "When I couldn't find you—well..."
"I know, darling," she said softly. "I know so well. You see, he—Mr. Fox—never said whether you were alive or dead. Even when I jumped out of the window, I didn't know. I didn't know until I got ashore. And by then you were almost out to the ship."
"You didn't see us?"
"I heard the firing of the cannon and I saw one boat going astern. After I got into the water I didn't see anything else until I could stand in the shallows." She drew away a little, studying him with misty eyes. "Scott! Your shoulder..."
"It doesn't hurt. But tell me..."
She kissed him again, savoring the wonder of loving him wholeheartedly.
Hurst reckoned the captain had forgotten all about the other people standing around and watching him. He turned on the small knot of grinning sailors enjoying the tableau and spoke in a tone that carried only to them. "You bastards shove off afore I knock th' fire outa you. It ain't but maybe once in a long lifetime that a man gets to feel like th' cap'n does now."
Scott persisted doggedly. "Tell me what happened to you. Everything."
Her face shadowed. "Tell me first, did—did you find Mr. Fox alive?"
"I didn't, no. Why?"
"I—I tried to kill him, Scott. Twice. I stabbed him."
He recalled seeing the wound in the man's chest. He spoke slowly. "You didn't kill him, Dorcas. He was shot while serving one of the guns."
She regarded him with clear eyes. "I think I'm glad it wasn't I who killed him, Scott. He was quite insane, I'm certain."
"Mad or not," he said, grimly unforgiving, "he got his due. He was a mutineer and a pirate. A renegade."
"You're right, I suppose," she agreed sadly. "The really important thing is that you're safe." Suddenly she started guiltily. "Scott! My father and Zenas—what of them? I—I forgot all about them, I was so glad to see you."
"And I forgot I was about to give them morphine."
"They're hurt badly, then?"
He nodded gravely.
"Let me go to them, Scott. Where are they?"
"In my cabin," he answered, thinking now of Bryant and pitying him. Then, sensing that she would prefer to go alone, he added: "Here are two doses of morphine, just enough to make them sleep restfully. Give one to each."
When she had gone, he turned to the two Malays who had brought her out from Quallah Battoo. They were standing nervously among Darus' men, and they bowed deeply when Scott bestowed his attention on them.
"Tuan," one said hesitantly.
"Speak."
"We have come seeking peace with you. We were misled by Osman ... by Tuan Fox ... by Pa' Mahmud."
"And by Chedula," Scott supplemented dryly.
The second Malay shook his head vigorously. "No, tuan. Chedula feared Pa' Mahmud and Fox."
Maybe, Scott thought. "What about the pepper Chedula stole from the wrecked ship?"
"It was brought to him for safekeeping, tuan. It will be returned to you, every peppercorn of it."
When Scott remained silent, the first native spoke up hopefully. "We returned your lady safely, tuan. She was well treated when she came to us."
You returned her because you feared to keep her, Scott thought. But he felt no malice now, only a strange blend of weariness and singing happiness that threatened to make him lightheaded. He glanced questioningly at Hurst, who stood behind the pair.
"Be friends with 'em, cap'n," the rifleman counseled bluntly. "Th' pepper's already cost right smart in blood."
The advice was good and Scott took it. To the two emissaries he said: "Because you brought the lady back unharmed, I will be at peace with the people of Quallah Battoo. Bring the pepper to the ship tomorrow morning."
The natives bowed again. "It will be as the tuan commands."
"Darus'll appreciate what you just done," Hurst said, watching the departure of the Malays. " 'E figured you'd turn th' guns on th' town, which wouldn't make life no easier for 'im afterward. Or, for that matter, for me."
"You?"
"I made a deal with Darus, sir."
"I never asked you what it was," Scott said. "Tell me now."
"I promised to stay with Darus. 'E wants to adopt me as 'is son."
Scott raised his brows. "You want that?"
"I think I'd like it . . . for awhile, anyway. I ain't no sailor, an' Darus is all right."