LUCILLE LOVE. The Girl of MgsWs
JkJoulthrilling Storu of£ove, .Danger and Jntriaue
:By the "MA.STEH PEJV"
Copyright, 1914. All moving picture rights reserved by the Universal Film Manufacturing Company,
who arm now exhibiting this production in leading theatera. Infringements will be vigorously prose-
cuted.
SYNOPSIS OF THE FOREGOING CHAPTERS.
While students together at West Point, and in
tovm with the same girl, Sumpter Love proves
Hugo Loubeque a thief, and Loubeque is dishon
orably discharged. Love wins the girl. The en
mity thus begun finds outlet in later years at
Manila, when a butler thief in the employ of
Loubeque, now an international spy, steals valu
able papers from the Government safe of Gen
eral Love. Loubeque sails with them on the
Steamship Empress and General Love accuses
Lieut. Gibson, his aide and the sweetheart of his
daughter Lucille, of the crime. Loubeque sends a
wireless message cleverly insinuating that Gen
eral Love had sold the papers to a foreign power.
To save the honor of the man she loved and to
erase the stigma from her father's name, Lucille
prevails upon Harley, a Government aviator, to
take her out to the ship, in his aeroplane. To foil
Lucille, Loubeque destroys the wireless apparatus
on the Empress and is hurt in the resulting ex
plosion. In her search for the papers, Lucille be
comes his nurse, and when the ship takes fire, se
cures them. The vessel is burned to the water's
edge and Lucille drifts to a strange island on the
oar of a crushed lifeboat. Lucille is rescued by
friendly savages. She is given an amulet for
curing the Chief's daughter, and it proved potent
against the machination of Hugo Loubeque, who
likewise cast on the island, plans to get the
papers. He burns Lucille's hut, but she escapes
with the precious papers. He sends a decoy mes
sage asking her to come to the home of a neigh
boring chief, whose wife is ill and in need of
nursing. On the way there she falls into a covered
pit, dug by Loubeque across her path. Her guide,
an old crone, takes the papers from Lucille, and
gives them to Loubeque, who goes with them to
the jungle. His guide and servant steals them,
but is killed by a lion, and Lucille, who had
trailed them three days, recovers them from the
body. Lucille meets a strange cave dwelling peo
ple, is attacked by monkeys, escapes in a canoe,
and is carried into an underground whirlpool.
CHAPTER XX.
The Mysterious Other Passenger.
f ASTER, faster, in ever shortening
circles the creamy foiim of savage
waters drew the frail catamaran
toward the ugly, black rock that
rose from out its center, leering
upon the helplessness of the deli
cate morsel being brought him.
And Lucille, the useless, broken
paddle in her hands, fought des
perately against her fate, though
knowing the bit of wood could do
.nothing in calm water much less against this
whirlpool.
lessness of her efforts quickened every faculty,
tuned up her natural instinct for life. Quite
llbruptly a sudden calm visited her, a calm that
fested upon her spirit like a soothing balm,
Quieting and easing without being soporific. She
desisted from her efforts, drawing the paddle
handle from the water with an effort. Her eyes
were alert, burning in their intensity as she
looked before her, staring at the rock that
seemed so inevitably for her gravestone without
the slightest perturbation.
Round and round in the circles of waters
the frail craft sped. The nose of the catamaran
spurned the grasping whirlpool aside, seeming to
leap joyously at this opportunity for a mag
nificent annihilation against the rock instead of
being slowly rent to bits by the water it had
always conquered. For a brief fraction of a sec
ond the circular progress was halted, the canoe
being held steady, quivering as another force
seized it and tried to fight against the whirl
pool. Lucille held her breath, measuring the
length of time a new hope arrived in hours in
stead of the seconds it really was. Then the
craft shot out of the current and continued upon
its wild chase toward the rock.
It was now a matter of but two revolutions
at best before the end. Lucille saw this with
eyes that flinched not, yet that refused to hold
any dTead. Half way round the circle some in
stinct from within caused her to lift the paddle
end. thrusting it out even as she closed her eyes
against the contact with the rock that seemed
Inevitable. The stout wood splintered in her
hands as it crushed against the monster rock,
tearing it from her grasp with such force that
an involuntary cry issued simultaneously from
her lips.
» She crouched back a-shudder, her eyes closed
against seeing the end, her lips opening and clos
ing without the blessed relief of words. Once
more the current that had withheld the craft
reached out and fought against the whirlpool.
Lucille knew it was useless but even this brief
respite seemed worth while. Something slashed
against her cheek and her hands instinctively
reached up, clutching, grasping, clinging to the
thick tangle of creepers let down from the en
circling jungle.
The canoe whirled out from under her while
■he clung there, the savage water lc-aping, snap
ping at her feet. Came a crunching to her ears,
a sound that made her hold tighter upon the
wines. She looked up, reaching at a higher point
in the vine-tangle, a place where the suction of
the wateir might be avoided.
Desperation loaned her strength. Times it
xeerned she could not draw herself another inch,
but one look at the white whirlpool beneath gave
fresh energy to her arms. Reason came to her
aid aa she caw her progress was taking her to
ward land as well as in the air. For just a sec
ond she rested, the® bravely reached out and
clambered along the thick vine until she saw the
earth beneath, then dropped and lay panting
upon the ground, shaking with a nervous chill as
• t£e reaction seized her.
Loud voices wakened her from the state of
pity which followed the chill. She looked
Mp nviftly, now that the dense fastnesses encir
icling hei were really pregnable, fearing a new
enemy. A moment before she in her loneliness
and tniseay would have sacrificed almost any
thing for the sight of a human beiing. Now that
she knew men, and men who spoke her own ton
£ie, were within hearing distance she shrank
»ek, afraid.
Fate had been so kind to her and man so
rnkind that she realized her chief danger sim
ultaneously with the recollection of what she
had to guard. She clutched at the little sack,
thrilling at the rustle of the papers she had
fought so bard to gain, at thought of what they
meant to her sweetheart in Manila. The diary
told her tihat Hugo Loubeque had thousands of
men working to do his will. She must be very
wary of whom she trusted. Better the jungle
than Loubeque again.
The shrill protesting creak of oar locks
rove away her fear, supplanting it with one of
wild alarm. The men were going away, were!
learvijjg her alone here. She had chosen this
Jungle where she knew Hugo Loubeqoe to be in
preference to a fairly certain chance of escape.
0' tbe millions of inhabitants of the globo why
•book* she think every man a worker of the spy s
that madness had induced her to hang back be
fore this opportunity which was slipping with
every faint creaking sound that reached her
ears. She flung herself wildly through the tangle
of thick vegetation tihat barred her way from
the sound, crying aloud at the top of her voice
for assistance even though she knew no sound
could carry to the men. She found herself stand
ing upon a pebbly little beach that snatched a
serene crescent of water from the ocean. Strain
ing her eyes she could dimly see a large row
boat at the tip of the crescent, its objective
point being obviously a beautifully slender yacht
anchored well out to sea.
Lucille waved her arms in the air wildly,
running up and down the beach in desperation
as she saw her opportunity for escape from the
terrible jungle receding. Her throat was racked
from the dry sobs which escaped her, sobs of
rage and chagrin at her own cowardice and folly.
The papers were in her possession, the papers
for which she fought so hard and which were so
useless here. And, at the first opportunity to get
away, get where they might do some good, her
courage had failed her.
Suddenly she stopped dead in her tracks, her
fists tightly clenched as she pressed them
against her breast, frightened for fear what she
had seen might turn out nothing more than an
optical illusion. Then, with a gasp of delight
she made out that the. boat had stopped, that the
man standing in the bow was no chimera of her
brain, and that it was being turned and was
coming toward her. Was coining toward her.
Over and over again she repeated its She
had been seen at the last moment and was going
to be taken away. She lifted her eyes in an un
spoken prayer, a prater that included a promise
never again to allow hardship to so weaken and
blind her as it had done this time. And the
prayer wan* not even finished before the boat
grounded lightly at her feet and she found her
self speaking to a heavy-featured, youngish man
who was evidently in command of the yacht.
There was something sinister about the man,
something she could not define and which she set
down to be a freakish feminine mood, that made
her distrust him even while she told her story.
She noticed that he was paying but slight atten
tion to her words but that his eyes were fast
ened upon her face in such bold admiration that
she instinctively drew away from him.
Suddenly he turned to his men, roughly or
dering them to prepare for the row out, then
assisted Lucille to a seat alongside himself. Try
though she would she could not feel the joy
that seemed natural as the boat slipped through
the water, propelled by the sturdy oarsmen. She
studied them keenly. Rough, powerful men they
were, but she was woman enough to know them
to be the sort easily handled by a beautiful
woman, the weaker the easier. Something told
her before she was done with the captain of the
yacht there would come the necessity for ap
pealing to them. And she saw that this man was
heartily disliked, that his arrogant manner, his
gruff commands were not pleasant to his crew.
She noticed also that two of the oarsmen had
faces that showed signs of recent battering. The
intuition that had served her so well before
told her Captain Wetherell, for such wart the
name he used in introducing himself, had been a
party to this.
It was the sixth day out that, for the first
time, she saw the man upon the deck in day
time. Captain Wetherell was scanning the sky,
his brow clouded and his heavy jaw thrust for
ward! like an angry bull-dog. Lucille was stand
ing beside the old boatswain, questioning him
and whiling away the long sultry day by listen
ing to the 'stories he loved to tell her. She was
suddenly aware of the keen, lowering scrutiny of
her host and, as was her custom, immediately
started toward her cabin. She heard a swift
step across the deck and hurried the faster, only
pausing to look back when she reached her door.
A little cry of pity and rage came from her
lips when, with an ugly oath, Wetherell lifted
his great fist and floored the old seaman, grin
ning maliciously down at the man", then, with a
shrug of the shoulders starting to turn away.
Every womanly impulse rose up within her at
the outrageous, uncalled-for attack. Forgetful of
her own precarious position, forgetful of every
thing save the pain of the old man upon the deck,
she started to his assistance, when the door of
the Chinaman's state-room slapped open and the
occupant strode across the deck toward Weth
erell.
And then Lucille halted stone-still, her eyes
widening with amazement and terror. She could
not analyze her sensation, did not attempt to do
so, but there was something about the move
ments of the man, a commanding mastery, a
control of self-evident rage as he spoke with
Wetherell in low tones of suppressed passion
that struck a chill to her heart.
The captain eyed the man angrily for a mo
ment, then' turned and slipped away, his verv
back dropping like that of a whipped cur. Lucille
turned to enter her cabin but something caused
the door to stick open a scant inch or so. She
felt an inclination to scream for aid but amaze
ment at recognition of the man who stepped
into the cabin behind her, softly closing the
door, held her dumb. For, under the yellow
coloring, the made-up slanting eyes, the Mon
ogolian mask he had so cunningly assumed* fear
loaning clarity to her vision, she recognized
Hugo Loubeque and instinctively both hands
clasped at the little bag about her neck which
held the precious papers. The spy smiled at the
impulsive gesture.
"You have guessed the reason for this in
trusion, Miss Love," he murmured gravely, his
rich voice holding a note of deference and apol
ogy which she recalled as so much a part of him,
which was continually checking her hatred for
the man. "I am sorry but you surely must see
by now that there is no escape from me; you
must understand that this pursuit is most un
pleasant but that you have no chance to thwart
me. The papers, if you please."
The terror-widened eyes of the girl nar
rowed slowly as her gaze traveled from the in
domitable face to the outstretched hand. No
chance, he said 1 But there was a chance, always
had been a chance; always would be, so long as
she retained the courage to fight him! The game
was in her hands, had been equal up to now.
Her lips parted in a smile as she moved toward
the door and held it open for him to leave. He
frowned Impatiently, shaking his head as though
at the stubbornness of a child.
"Miss Lucille," he continued, his tones sharp
er, "you must appreciate my forbearance toward
you so far. It cannot continue forever. Un
doubtedly you know my power. Does it not
startle you to find me in a position of authority
upon this yacht. It is always so. Everywhere I
find my assistants. Forty years of my life has
been spent in ordering events so that such ob
stacles as you have encountered would be at my
command. Till now, I hove refrained from se
curing the documents you hold by violence. You
know the reason for my forbearance. But, un
dei'stand now, that it can continue no longer.
The papers, if you please."
She quailed before the lightning that darted
HARRISBURG TELEGRAPH
from his sombre eyes. Common sense, the in
stinct for self-preservation, everything urged her
to obey. Yet when her hands sought her bosom
the feel of the precious little bag renewed her
courage, gave her strength to meet his eyes with
a courage greater even than his own assurance.
Her eyes held to his with an effect of fright
ened fascination. It was the change in his tone,
the difference in his wording of the demand that
told Hugo Loubeque's patience had been finally
frayed to the breaking point, that craft and
diplomacy would be things of the past did she
not relinquish the papers to him now. Yet Duty,
' After Making Her Way Through
hick Tangle, Lucille Is
Men's Voices.
Love—twin shadows, wraith-like, yet of iron
strength—held her back from obedience. The spy
recognized the spirit in the girl and stepped to
ward the port-hole, motioning 1 with his hand to
ward the dancing 1 waves without, his voice low
pitched yet surcharged with ominousness.
"Think, Miss Love, think of our positions.
Match my strength, brute strength, against your
own; measure the strength of any one of the
■thousands who implicitly obey me. Those waters
tell no tales, up no ghastly secrets. See how
the waves reach up toward us; think how the
body of each wave is but a mouth, large enough
and speedy enough to gulp any object thrown
toward it. Think of that, Miss Love, I beg of
you, then give me the little bag you wear about
your neck."
His voice was full of pleading yet his eyes
held) a death message which made her shudder
as she realized) the sincerity of his threat.
"You seek to save the ones dear to you,
child, from the one I hate. You think me wicked,
cruel, relentless, and I am all of these things.
You fight me on the impidse of love and I fight
back with the poison of a hate that is my very
life, my heart and soul and my body. Forty
years ago I might have done as you do now,
but all the impulses of that time are dead, killed
by your father; all the love I ever had, the only
love, has been dead for forty years, killed by
your father; all the ambition of that time of
youth, the happiness of hope, the pride of father
land, is dead, has been dead for forty years,
killed by your father, General Sumpter Love.
And you—you think that I would stop at vio
lence to prevent your thwarting me; you think
I would trade those forty years of hate for the
faint splash of a girl's body on the waters of
this great waste. TYue, the sound would din in
my ears of nights—but the forty years have
been filled with just such sounds; true, there
would be regret for one who recalls memories I
thought quite dead—but the forty years have
supplanted those memories with active dreams of
hate—hate—hate."
The while his tones grew lower, they carried
a "ibrant thrill that struck at her very heart.
His face was flinty, as, wi„h passionate pleading
she lifted her eyes to his. Instinctively she re
coiled as a shadow fell between them. Loubeque
frowned as Captain Wetherell joined them, his
eyes flashing a questioning glance at the pallid
face of the girl. Lucille watched the two men
breathlessly, realizing as she looked at them,
that they hated each other, realizing also that
she was the cause of this hatred. Like a battle
of dogs it was, the two, silent, motionless men.
Then the spy bowed gravely and stepped on the
deck, followed closely by the captain of the
yacht.
Cold the waves were to the eye where, be
fore, they had been warm and inviting; heart
less the splash against the yacht's frail sides
where before it had soothed her weary brain to
slumber and to pleasant dreams. And after all,
was she not foolish in attempting to combat this
giant of a man? Was she not absolutely in his
power? How had he come aboard the boat,
dared speak to Captain Wetherell as he had,
were he not speaking the truth regarding his
position here?
Her question was partially answered by the
whispers of the men growing louder and louder
until she could distinguish the angry voice of
Wetherell, lifted now in surly rebellion. Lucille
shrank back against the wall visualizing from
the man's tones the expression on his face. A
greater horror than the waves came leaping to
her mind. Hugo Loubeque was her protection
from this brute. She knew it was true. And the
man's voice showed now that he was out from
control, that he was in rebellion against the iron
hand of the spy.
There flashed across her mental vision every
lineament of the man as he struck down the old
bosun, and, as though the picture subconsciously
developed there called up the actual individual,
Captain Wetherell stepped inside her cabin, with
out the formality of knocking, closing the door
cautiously behind him, his every movement fur
tive, his face wearing a sheepishly leering ex
pression as he stood there, regarding the girl
who faced; him, her eyes dilated' with » horror
she tried_ vajLnly to conceal and 1 cover under the
guise of indignation at the intrusion.
"What—what do you want?"
Immediately the question pawed her lipi
+8
she realized she had made a mistake, that her
tones showed fright. She tried to correct the
error by drawing herself haughtily erect but
knew the man had recognized her mind. The
captain laughed aloud, eyeing her keenly the
while.
"Don't be alarmed," he said softly. "I have
settled with Mr. Loubeque. You need have no
further fear of him, my dear."
Fear! Lucille felt a great yearning for the
spy, a need of his protection even as a moment
before she had thought it impossible to be in
such mortal terror of anyone as she had been
of Hugo Loubeque and his crafty manner.
"No fear; I don't understand!" Her voice
quavered.
"J. mean he understands who is master of
this beat now. He attempts to give me orders,
to bribe me to force you to give up some papers,
to threaten me—" Wetherell broke off with a
laugh, coming a bit closer to her even as she
retreated before him. "As though anyone could
force me to harm you," he leered.
"What do you want?" Even as she spoke a
thrill of conscious triumph surcharged her as
she realized the tremble had left her voice and
with its departure had come again that strange
feeling of self-assurance.
Wetherell halted uncertainly, held back by
her change. Then the helplessness of the small
tense figure crouching in the shadows, her eyes
dark pools of defiance set in a face of pallid
determination gave him courage and again he
moved closer. His voice was hoarse now, his
great hands clasping and unclasping.
"Want?" he repeated, then with a short,
barking laugh, "I want the papers and I want
you."
"I don't understand—" though her voice was
steady, her expression showed his meaning to be
clearer to her than anything else in the world.
He leaped forward, clasping her about the
waist with his great arms, the right hand mov
ing toward her mouth, closing over the delicate
lips and smothering her cry of wild alarm.
"Want you," he cried. "I want you and I
want the papers. Loubeque knows it, but he's
out of the way now. Give me t,he papers and I
will keep them away from him. Give me the
papers "
He sprang back with a low-toned oath of
surprised incredulity even as her brittle laugh
echoed through the cabin. Slowly, a step at a
time, inch by inch, Lucille forced the man to
ward the door. In smothering her screams he
had freed her light arm and her tiny fist, fight
ing against his, beating at his body had encoun
tered his revolver which she deftly abstracted
and had pressed against his chest.
"The papers are quite safe where they are,"
she murmured sweetly, the. glint in her eye 3
belying the tbnes. "Come, captain, don't try to
take this gnn away from me. That would be
foolish. Remember I am accustomed to firearms
and that you have placed me in a position where
I should not hesi tat« to use a bullet. Come, cap
tain, lets see how the men you have bullied like
the sight of you now."
Wetherell opened his lips to curse but there
was an exp:.e<<sion of icy determination on the
girl's face, in the tense lines of her figure, in the
tremorless feel of the gun against him that made
liim do her bidding. He told himself that it was
all a joke, a preposterous thing, but the feel of
the weapon continually brought him back to the
stern reality of the predicament his carelessness
had brought him into. Only when he felt the '
cubin threshold beneath his feet and knew an
other step would bring him in sight of the crew
did he halt, the maxillary muscles swelling defi
antly. Lucille laughed again, the same mirthless,
brittle laugh, emphasizing it with a sharp nudge
of the gun sight.
It was a scant fifteen seconds the man and
girl stood there, their eyes challenging. But the
eyes of Lucille were steady, determined; those of
the captain were truculent, defiant. Then Weth
erell flinched and dropped his murderous expres
sion. Quickly he looked up once more and for an
instant Lucille feared she had gone too far.
Then, with a surly shrug, Captain Wetherell
marched across the threshold and upon the deck,
before his men, while Lucille felt the joy of such
a triumph as she had never known before. Her
plans were formulated for the next move, had
been prepared from the instant she drew the
man's own gun upon him. Risky it was and with
slight chance for success, but—there was a
chance. It was sufficient.
Wetherell sullenly moved before her.
CHAPTER XVIII.
Triumph Precede * Catastrophe.
one looks upon the unbelievable it takes
some time for the brain to become accus
tomed to a picture presented to the vision. As
the sailors looked up and saw Captain Wetherell
sullenly marching under impetus of the revolver
to Lucille'* hand they straightened and stared,
open, mouthed, unable to believe the evidence of
their own eyes. Gradually it dawned upon ♦■hmi
that the tyrant, the brutallzer, the man they all
hated and feared had been subjugated, cowed by
this slip of a girl. Whispers grew louder, louder
and she caught the approval in the eyes thai
constantly drew closer to her own until she wu
surrounded by a cordon of sailors.
A thrill of conscious triumph set her all a
treinbie but she fought down the inclination to
be overmastering in her victory. Only through
\\ inning- the crew to her side could she maintain
her position. Backing away but still holding the
revolver level upon the captain she cast an ap
pealing glance about upon the men. Her voice
trembled with excitement, with the wear and
tear upon her nerves, with the struggle from
whjch she had just emerged.
"Friends," she whispered, then, surprised at
finding how low her voice was, swallowed the
lump in her throat and continued bravely.
i i iends, I am just a weak gfirl and I need your
help. I have two enemies upon this ship. One
of them I more afraid of than anything or
anybody in the world until a short half hour ago.
He will do anj-thing to steal from me some pap
ers I have rescued from him after he stole them
from my father. My sweetheart, the man to
whom I am engaged, was accused of the theft
and arrested. „And I have fought so hard to keep
them 1" Her voice broke a trifle but she straight
ened bravely, tears still glistening on her lashes.
"I'm so tired—so tired of fighting."
The murmur of sympathy from the men died
down before a still more menacing silence, a sil
ence that bent itself upon the sullen captain and
fastened him threateningly. Lucille felt the
change and immediately started to take full ad
vantage of it when, from one on the outskirts
rose a shout. All eyes were turned in the direo
tion of his pointing finger and from out two
great smoke spirals that seemed to come from
the other side of the ocean, rose slowly, ma
jestically, the thin outlines of a huge boat.
Lucille raised her voice and those nearest im
mediately turned toward her once more, their
attention seeming to unconsciously draw that of
the men on the outskirts from the big vessel.
But the girl, scenting disaster from that sight,
read it on the sneering face of her victim.
"But I am more afraid of your captain,
men," she cried, her voice thrillingly vibrant.
"He came to me in my cabin and demanded the
papers. He threatened me, seized me in his arms
and tried to make love to me. He did this to a
weak girl, men. He would treat me as he has
treated you. I have seen the way he treats you,
have seen him knock you down and kick you and
curse you for doing exactly what he ordered. I
have seen him do these things and I know that
you will be justified in mutinying. I ask you all
to protect me and yourselves from this man's
brutality. You see what a coward he is. You
see how he does not dare——"
Her voice was drowned in the chorus of
shouts that rose at the welcome announcement.
Wetherell's shoulders sloped still more while his
eyes darted from face to face, triumphant, cun
ning, ferocious. His body tensed as though for
a spring. On every side of him were lowering
faces, the faces of men he had battered and
bruised to suit his hellish humor. The shout died
away into that ominous mob-murmur which pre*
cedes violence, when a faint booming sound
reached out to them across the waters, distract
ing their attention. Something dark and round
described a parabola from the speck of a ship
and leaped through the air toward them. Came
a splash of water uot one hundred yards away,
a splash followed by a cry of alarm.
"They're firing on us."
Wetherell, heedless of the pointing" revolve®
in the hands of the girl, sprang forward, facing
the puzzled, frightened men.
"Mutiny!" his great voice rose in derision.
"Mutiny, now when you hear a girl lying to you I
Mutiny now against the only man who know!
where we are, what we are doing! Mutiny now
when we have a cargo of arms and ammunition
in the hold for the Chinese rebels and a govern
ment warship is pursuing us! Mutiny now and
put the man and woman in command who hirei
me to carry this cargo 1"
"It's a lie!" Lucille's voice was shrill now.
Again Wetherell's laugh arose and the pu»
zled faces of the men were turned toward on*
another indecisively.
"Lie, is it? Very well. Where did I plcll
you and Loubeque up? On the same bit of land,
as the men know. If he is your enemy, how did
you two happen to be at the place where I
picked up the cargo? Tell tlhe men that. Tell
the man what is in the hold. Tell them that tha
punishment for mutiny is death. Tell them what
the Chinese government does to a sailor on a
boat carrying arms and ammunition which can
not bo accounted for." Once more he laughed
aloud, as he turned upon his heel flinging back
over his shoulder. "Very well, mutiny 1 My brave
men, do your damndest and mutiny! Let this
girl get you out of the noose you are run
ning your heads into but don't bother me any
more "
Again the fatal booming sound from th#
warships whose outlines were growing more and
more distinct each moment. Again, that splash,
followed quickly by a ripping hiss of air as a
great cannon l>all sped across their bows. The
proximity of their danger threw the men into •
panic. All thoughts of injustice, of chivalry dis
appeared instantly before the omnipresence oi
the menace that threatened thedr lives. They
rushed upon Wetherell in a body, pleading, fair
ly on their knees, for him to take command and
avert the disaster that was upon them.
Of them all, he alone knew the position of
the yacht, the fine points of navigation, tha
crooks and turns of the ocean in this vicinity.
And they recognized only too well now that they
were between the Devil and the deep, blue sea.
Mutiny—capture by the pursuing warship. Both
meant death.
Wetherell appeared to be considering, to
hesitate about resuming command. Suddenly h«
straightened as another cannon ball hurled acrosf
the path of the yacht. His voice rose, stentorian,
as he whirled, pointing a finger toward the girL
"Take that passenger's revolver from her,
Bring the Chinese passenger on deck. They must
not be found aboard if we are captured. Lowei
a life boat from the davits and set them adrift
with provisions for three days and a cask oi
water."
He clasped his hands smartly together to
emphasize the urgency for haste. Lucille felt
arms about her, the pistol whirling from hei
grasp and ricochetiting toward Captain Wetherell
who, with a malicious smile, picked it up and
thrust it in his pocket.
She did not protest —there seemed no use foi
protest., for anything. In a haze she found her
self in the tiny boat that was being lowered. Ai
through a thicker haze she glimpsed the face oi
Hugo Loubeque, facing her. The creaking of thf
davits ceased and the tiny craft bobbed about on
the bosom of the waters. She did not move. II
seemed a dream, a nightmare. A great hoi© aip<
peared suddenly in the wave not ten feet from
them and the spray splashed against her cheeks.
Hugo Loubeque silently, grimly, seized an o&r\
motioning her toward the second.
"We must get out of the firing zone," he mil
quietly, reassuringly, almost gently. Singularly
enough, as she irtggei at the great oar, ah* tV
most felt kindly toward the spy.
(Continued Next Week.)