She hesitated, hating and fearing him, and his words rasped like a file. "Sit down, girl!"
She seated herself at the captain's table, trying meanwhile to summon all her wits and courage. Fox's glittering eyes almost mesmerized her.
"You listen to me, Dorcas," he went on. "Behave yourself and accept facts and you'll be safe enough with me. I never meant you any harm and none will come to you—if you do as I tell you."
Even in the grip of desperation she marveled at the change in Fox. Always he had been courteous, almost courtly. With an effort she kept her voice coldly steady. "What do you propose doing with me?"
"I'm going to marry you," he answered.
She gasped audibly. "You're mad!"
"On the contrary, I'm quite sane. I'm a man who knows his own mind, and from the day I first saw you I knew you were for me."
"You—you planned all this since then?"
He smiled, amiable again. "Not all of it, my dear. Just that part. The rest of it I had in mind when I left Charleston."
"You betrayed Scott... all of your own people. I thought you were an honest mariner... my friend... my father's friend. What happened to Scott and my father? And Zenas?"
He shrugged. "Truthfully, I don't know yet. For your sake, I hope Mr. Russell is alive. I shall try to have him spared. But whatever happens to him, it will make no difference in my future ... or yours."
She listened numbly, comprehending all that he said. He's mad she thought. Utterly crazy. Loco. She stalled for time to think about her own appalling situation. "You really planned all this?"
"I really did, and well. Everything so far happened as I figured it would."
"How can you go back to America... to your own people?"
His smile was thin. "I'm not going back. I shall remain here and trade in the East. I shall be a rajah."
"You are a Moslem?"
He looked then for Pa' Mahmud and saw that the man had gone. Then he laughed. "That's quickly remedied. Prayer rugs are easily come by. I shall be a rajah, a ruler of many, a rich and powerful man. It is all arranged."
"Between you and..."
"Pa' Mahmud and I respect and understand each other. I have made him rich. He has made me his brother."
"And you expect me to marry you?" she asked wonderingly.
"You will marry me," he said confidently. " I love you."
"And I despise you!"
"I will make you love me," he said in the same confident way.
"Never!" she cried hysterically. "Never!"
"You'll wed me, though, and gladly. Better to be my wife than a harem slave."
Now she noticed that Pa' Mahmud had left them. First light was visible through the windows. Rising, she lifted her chin proudly and spoke scathingly. "I'll be a slave, then. I'll never marry you."
For a moment she feared he would strike her again. His face darkened and the veins in his neck stood out like taut cords. With a visible effort he brought himself under control. "We'll talk about that later. In the meantime there is work you can do for me. Wait here."
He left almost jauntily. Immediately she bolted the door behind him. Then she went to one of the windows in the stem and looked out on the lightening world. The sun glittered on the sea. To her dismay, she saw a small proa with two Malays in it close under the stem of the vessel. There could be no flight by swimming. This, too, Fox had planned, she thought.
Returning, Fox rattled the door knob angrily. "Open up—or I'll break in."
Frantically she yanked open a drawer in the captain's table, seeking a weapon, anything with which she could arm herself. Her eyes fell on a knife with a long, thin blade that caught the fresh light. Into her mind flickered scenes from romances read long before. The heroine would have stabbed herself, she thought. But not I. I'll kill him, then fight the others until I'm killed.
"Open up, Dorcas!"
"Break the door down!" she screamed, her right hand closing on the haft of the knife. "Break it down, murderer! Renegade! Pig! Terror!
The barrier between them was stout, but the wood split easily under the axes brought by the natives. Fox entered in wrathful triumph, a flat package in his hand.
Hoping to kill quickly, she launched herself at him like an arrow from a strong bow. His jaw dropped in surprise; but in time he fended the blade with his package, then caught her arm and cruelly twisted it until her fingers freed the haft.
"You hellcat!" he snarled furiously, kicking the knife away and hitting her in the face with his fist. "You she-devil! I'll tame you!"
The blow was hard enough to knock her against the table. She caught at it for support. Tears of helpless rage coursed down her cheeks. His strength was greater than hers, and they both knew it.
"I've no time for foolishness, girl," he said harshly. "Try anything like that again and I'll give you a real taste of discipline. Now, can you sew?"
"Yes," she said sullenly, not even wondering at the question.
From his pocket he produced needle, thread and scissors. Then he opened the package and took out a bolt of shimmering yellow silk cloth. She stared dully at these things as he laid them on the table.
"Listen closely, Dorcas," Fox said. "Make me a sarong and cap of this material. Make one for yourself, too, if you like. Only Malay royalty can wear yellow, you know. You should feel honored."
She lifted her eyes to look at him in silent hatred. He went on talking. "I want sarong and cap no later than noon today.
See that you have them ready. And don't try to escape. If you do, you'll be brought back—without that blanket you're clinging to."
With that he left her alone in the cabin with the splintered door. For a full minute she did not move, except to explore her bruised, swelling face with gentle fingers. Then she looked about for the knife, which he had forgotten in his arrogance. Finding it, she cut a long, narrow strip from the blanket, which now was chafing her scratched body, and with it bound the weapon to her thigh. She could think of no other place of concealment. He will return, she thought grimly, and next time I shall not fail.
27
THE promise to retake the brig was not given lightly, but only after uttering it did Scott fully realize how formidable was the task to which he had pledged himself. Lying two miles offshore in a calm sea, heavily armed and manned by half a hundred fighting men, the Caroline could not be assaulted with impunity by a vessel of her own size and armament. To attack her openly in small boats, even with twice the number of dependable men available, bordered on the suicidal. No attempt to recapture her could be a surprise to Fox and Pa' Mahmud, who were unalterably committed to her defense; and the mere fact that she still was at anchor in the roadstead implied confidence in their ability to beat off boarders.
No man to dodge an issue, Scott began making ready for the showdown with confidence calculated to shake the morale of foes afloat and ashore. Nor was he dismayed when Darus refused his help on the grounds that the men and proas left in the river had not been molested by either Pa' Mahmud's piratical crew or the townspeople. The only thing he really feared at the moment was cumulative weariness. Assembling his men on the beach, he addressed them briefly within sight of the curious natives.
"There are twenty-four of us," he said, "and all but Captain Bryant are in pretty good shape. We're better than thirteen thousand miles from home, and our only hope is to get the Caroline back. We're going to take her—that I promise you—and we're going to rescue the lady who is held aboard and send to hell the former mate, Mr. Fox."
"An' his friends!" cried Kimbrell.