CHAPTER XV
THE RESCUE
AFTER Byrne had dropped the lifeless form of his enemy
to the ground he turned and retraced his steps toward the
island, a broad grin upon his face as he climbed to the girl's
side.
"I guess I'd better overhaul this gat," he said, "and stick
around home. It isn't safe to leave you alone here--I can
see that pretty plainly. Gee, supposin' I'd got out of sight
before he showed himself!" And the man shuddered visibly
at the thought.
The girl had not spoken and the man looked up suddenly,
attracted by her silence. He saw a look of horror in her
eyes, such as he had seen there once before when he had
kicked the unconscious Theriere that time upon the Halfmoon.
"What's the matter?" he asked, alarmed. "What have I
done now? I had to croak the stiff--he'd have got me sure
if I hadn't, and then he'd have got you, too. I had to do
it for your sake--I'm sorry you saw it."
"It isn't that," she said slowly. "That was very brave,
and very wonderful. It's Mr. Mallory I'm thinking of. O
Billy! How could you do it?"
The man hung his head.
"Please don't," he begged. "I'd give my life to bring him
back again, for your sake. I know now that you loved
him, and I've tried to do all I could to atone for what I did
to him; just as I tried to play white with Theriere when I
found that he loved you, and intended to be on the square
with you. He was your kind, and I hoped that by helping him
to win you fairly it might help to wipe out what I had done
to Mallory. I see that nothing ever can wipe that out. I've
got to go through life regretting it because you have taught
me what a brutal, cowardly thing I did. If it hadn't been for
you I'd always have been proud of it--but you and Theriere
taught me to look at things in a different way than I ever
had learned to before. I'm not sorry for that--I'm glad, for
if remorse is a part of my punishment I'll take it gladly and
welcome the chance to get a little of what's coming to
me. Only please don't look at me that way any more--it's
more than I can stand, from you."
It was the first time that the man ever had opened his heart
in any such whole-souled way to her, and it touched the
girl more than she would have cared to admit.
"It would be silly to tell you that I ever can forget that
terrible affair," she said; "but somehow I feel that the man
who did that was an entirely different man from the man who
has been so brave and chivalrous in his treatment of me
during the past few weeks."
"It was me that did it, though," he said; "you can't get
away from that. It'll always stick in your memory, so that
you can never think of Mr. Mallory without thinking of the
damned beast that murdered him--God! and I thought it
smart!
"But you have no idea how I was raised, Miss Harding,"
he went on. "Not that that's any excuse for the thing I did;
but it does make it seem a wonder that I ever could
have made a start even at being decent. I never was well
acquainted with any human being that wasn't a thief, or a
pickpocket, or a murderer--and they were all beasts, each
in his own particular way, only they weren't as decent as
dumb beasts.
"I wasn't as crafty as most of them, so I had to hold
my own by brute force, and I did it; but, gad, how I accomplished
it. The idea of fighting fair," he laughed at the thought,
"was utterly unknown to me. If I'd ever have tried it I'd
have seen my finish in a hurry. No one fought fair in my
gang, or in any other gang that I ever ran up against. It
was an honor to kill a man, and if you accomplished it by
kicking him to death when he was unconscious it detracted
nothing from the glory of your exploit--it was WHAT you did,
not HOW you did it, that counted.
"I could have been decent, though, if I'd wanted to. Other
fellows who were born and raised near me were decent
enough. They got good jobs and stuck to them, and lived
straight; but they made me sick--I looked down on them,
and spent my time hanging around saloon corners rushing
the can and insulting women--I didn't want to be decent--
not until I met you, and learned to--to," he hesitated,
stammering, and the red blood crept up his neck and across
his face, "and learned to want your respect."
It wasn't what he had intended saying and the girl knew it.
There sprang into her mind a sudden wish to hear Billy Byrne
say the words that he had dared not say; but she promptly
checked the desire, and a moment later a qualm of self-disgust
came over her because of the weakness that had
prompted her to entertain such a wish in connection with a
person of this man's station in life.
Days ran into weeks, and still the two remained upon their
little island refuge. Byrne found first one excuse and then
another to delay the march to the sea. He knew that it must
be made sooner or later, and he knew, too, that its commencement
would mark the beginning of the end of his association with
Miss Harding, and that after that was ended life
would be a dreary waste.
Either they would be picked up by a passing vessel or
murdered by the natives, but in the latter event his separation
from the woman he loved would be no more certain or
absolute than in her return to her own people, for Billy
Byrne knew that he "didn't belong" in any society that knew
Miss Barbara Harding, and he feared that once they had
regained civilization there would be a return on the girl's
part to the old haughty aloofness, and that again he would
be to her only a creature of a lower order, such as she
and her kind addressed with a patronizing air as, "my
man."
He intended, of course, to make every possible attempt
to restore her to her home; but, he argued, was it wrong to
snatch a few golden hours of happiness in return for his
service, and as partial recompense for the lifetime of lonely
misery that must be his when the woman he loved had passed
out of his life forever? Billy thought not, and so he tarried
on upon "Manhattan Island," as Barbara had christened it,
and he lived in the second finest residence in town upon the
opposite side of "Riverside Drive" from the palatial home of
Miss Harding.
Nearly two months had passed before Billy's stock of
excuses and delay ran out, and a definite date was set for
the commencement of the journey.
"I believe," Miss Harding had said, "that you do not wish
to be rescued at all. Most of your reasons for postponing
the trip have been trivial and ridiculous--possibly you are
afraid of the dangers that may lie before us," she added,
banteringly.
"I'm afraid you've hit it off about right," he replied with
a grin. "I don't want to be rescued, and I am very much
afraid of what lies before--me."
"Before YOU?"
"I'm going to lose you, any way you look at it, and--
and--oh, can't you see that I love you?" he blurted out,
despite all his good intentions.
Barbara Harding looked at him for a moment, and then
she did the one thing that could have hurt him most--she
laughed.
The color mounted to Billy Byrne's face, and then he went
very white.
The girl started to say something, and at the same instant
there came faintly to them from the mainland the sound of
hoarse shouting, and of shots.
Byrne turned and started on a run in the direction of the
firing, the girl following closely behind. At the island's edge
he motioned her to stop.
"Wait here, it will be safer," he said. "There may be white
men there--those shots sound like it, but again there may
not. I want to find out before they see you, whoever they
are."
The sound of firing had ceased now, but loud yelling was
distinctly audible from down the river. Byrne took a step
down the bank toward the water.
"Wait!" whispered the girl. "Here they come now, we can
see them from here in a moment," and she dragged the
mucker down behind a bush.
In silence the two watched the approaching party.
"They're the Chinks," announced Byrne, who insisted on
using this word to describe the proud and haughty samurai.
"Yes, and there are two white men with them," whispered
Barbara Harding, a note of suppressed excitement in her
voice.
"Prisoners," said Byrne. "Some of the precious bunch from
the Halfmoon doubtless."
The samurai were moving straight up the edge of the river.
In a few minutes they would pass within a hundred feet of
the island. Billy and the girl crouched low behind their shelter.
"I don't recognize them," said the man.
"Why--why--O Mr. Byrne, it can't be possible!" cried the
girl with suppressed excitement. "Those two men are Captain
Norris and Mr. Foster, mate of the Lotus!"
Byrne half rose to his feet. The party was opposite their
hiding place now.
"Sit tight," he whispered. "I'm goin' to get 'em," and then,
fiercely "for your sake, because I love you--now laugh,"
and he was gone.
He ran lightly down the river bank unnoticed by the
samurai who had already passed the island. In one hand he
bore the long war spear of the head-hunter be had slain. At
his belt hung the long sword of Oda Yorimoto, and in its
holster reposed the revolver of the Count de Cadenet
Barbara Harding watched him as be forded the river, and
clambered up the opposite bank. She saw him spring rapidly
after the samurai and their prisoners. She saw his spear hand
go up, and then from the deep lungs of the man rose a
savage yell that would have done credit to a whole tribe of
Apaches.
The warriors turned in time to see the heavy spear flying
toward them and then, as he dashed into their midst, Billy
Byrne drew his revolver and fired to right and left. The two
prisoners took advantage of the consternation of their
guards to grapple with them and possess themselves of weapons.
There had been but six samurai in the party, two had fallen
before Byrne's initial onslaught, but the other four, recovered
from their first surprise, turned now to battle with all
the terrific ferocity of their kind.
Again, at a crucial moment, had Theriere's revolver missed
fire, and in disgust Byrne discarded it, falling back upon
the long sword with which he was no match for the samurai.
Norris snatched Byrne's spear from the ground, and ran it
through the body of one of the Japs who was pressing Byrne
too closely. Odds were even now--they fought three against
three.
Norris still clung to the spear--it was by far the most
effective weapon against the long swords of the samurai. With
it he killed his antagonist and then rushed to the assistance
of Foster.
Barbara Harding from the island saw that Byrne's foe
was pressing him closely. The white man had no chance
against the superior swordsmanship of the samurai. She saw
that the mucker was trying to get past the Jap's guard and
get his hands upon him, but it was evident that the man
was too crafty and skilled a fighter to permit of that. There
could be but one outcome to that duel unless Byrne had
assistance, and that mighty quickly. The girl grasped the short
sword that she constantly wore now, and rushed into the river.
She had never before crossed it except in Byrne's arms. She
found the current swift and strong. It almost swept her off
her feet before she was halfway across, but she never for an
instant thought of abandoning her effort.
After what seemed an eternity she floundered out upon
the mainland, and when she reached the top of the bank she
saw to her delight that Byrne was still on his feet, fighting.
Foster and Norris were pushing their man back--they were
in no danger.
Quickly she ran toward Byrne and the samurai. She saw
a wicked smile upon the brown face of the little warrior, and
then she saw his gleaming sword twist in a sudden feint, and
as Byrne lunged out awkwardly to parry the expected blow
the keen edge swerved and came down upon his head.
She was an instant too late to save, but just in time to
avenge--scarcely had the samurai's sword touched the mucker
than the point of Oda Yorimoto's short sword, wielded by the
fair hand of Barbara Harding, plunged into his heart. With
a shriek he collapsed beside the body of his victim.
Barbara Harding threw herself beside Byrne. Apparently life
was extinct. With a little cry of horror the girl put her ear
close to the man's lips. She could hear nothing.
"Come back! Come back!" she wailed. "Forgive me that
cruel laugh. O Billy! Billy! I love you!" and the daughter of
old Anthony Harding, multimillionaire and scion of the oldest
aristocracy that America boasts, took the head of the Grand
Avenue mucker in her arms and covered the white, bloody
face with kisses--and in the midst of it Billy Byrne opened his
eyes.
She was caught in the act. There was no escape, and as a
crimson flush suffused her face Billy Byrne put his arms about
her and drew her down until their lips met, and this time she
did not put her hands upon his shoulders and push him away.
"I love you, Billy," she said simply.
"Remember who and what I am," he cautioned, fearful lest
this great happiness be stolen away from him because she
had forgotten for the moment.
"I love you Billy," she answered, "for what you ARE."
"Forever?"
"Until death do us part!"
And then Norris and Foster, having dispatched their man,
came running up.
"Is he badly hurt, madam?" cried Captain Norris.
"I don't know," replied Miss Harding; "I'm just trying to
help him up, Captain Norris," she laboriously explained in an
effort to account for her arms about Billy's neck.
Norris gave a start of surprise at hearing his name.
"Who are you?" he cried. "How do you know me?" and as
the girl turned her face toward him, "Miss Harding! Thank
God, Miss Harding, you are safe."
"But where on earth did you come from?" asked Barbara.
"It's a long story, Miss Harding," replied the officer, "and
the ending of it is going to be pretty hard on you--you must
try to bear up though."
"You don't mean that father is dead?" she asked, a look of
terror coming to her eyes.
"Not that--we hope," replied Norris. "He has been taken
prisoner by these half-breed devils on the island. I doubt if
they have killed him--we were going to his rescue when we
ourselves were captured. He and Mr. Mallory were taken three
days ago."
"Mallory!" shouted Billy Byrne, who had entirely recovered
from the blow that had merely served to stun him for a
moment. "Is Mallory alive?"
"He was yesterday," replied Norris; "these fellows from
whom you so bravely rescued us told us that much."
"Thank God!" whispered Billy Byrne.
"What made you think he was dead?" inquired the officer,
looking closely at Byrne as though trying to place him.
Another man might have attempted to evade the question
but the new Billy Byrne was no coward in any department of
his moral or physical structure.
"Because I thought that I had killed him," he replied, "the
day that we took the Lotus."
Captain Norris looked at the speaker in undisguised horror.
"You!" he cried. "You were one of those damned cut-throats!
You the man that nearly killed poor Mr. Mallory!
Miss Harding, has he offered you any indignities?"
"Don't judge him rashly, Captain Norris," said the girl.
"But for him I should have been dead and worse than dead
long since. Some day I will tell you of his heroism and his
chivalry, and don't forget, Captain, that he has just saved you
and Mr. Foster from captivity and probable death."
"That's right," exclaimed the officer, "and I want to thank
him; but I don't understand about Mallory."
"Never mind about him now," said Billy Byrne. "If he's
alive that's all that counts--I haven't got his blood on my
hands. Go on with your story."
"Well, after that gang of pirates left us," continued the
captain, "we rigged an extra wireless that they didn't know we
had, and it wasn't long before we raised the warship Alaska.
Her commander put a crew on board the Lotus with machinists
and everything necessary to patch her up--coaled and
provisioned her and then lay by while we got her in running
order. It didn't take near as long as you would have imagined.
Then we set out in company with the warship to search for
the 'Clarinda,' as your Captain Simms called her. We got on
her track through a pirate junk just north of Luzon--he said
he'd heard from the natives of a little out-of-the-way island
near Formosa that a brigantine had been wrecked there in the
recent typhoon, and his description of the vessel led us to
believe that it might be the 'Clarinda,' or Halfmoon.
"We made the island, and after considerable search found
the survivors. Each of 'em tried to lay the blame on the
others, but finally they all agreed that a man by the name of
Theriere with a seaman called Byrne, had taken you into the
interior, and that they had believed you dead until a few days
since they had captured one of the natives and learned that
you had all escaped, and were wandering in some part of the
island unknown to them.
"Then we set out with a company of marines to find you.
Your father, impatient of the seeming slowness of the officer
in command, pushed ahead with Mr. Mallory, Mr. Poster, and
myself, and two of the men of the Lotus whom he had
brought along with us.
"Three days ago we were attacked and your father and Mr.
Mallory taken prisoners. The rest of us escaped, and endeavored
to make our way back to the marines, but we became
confused and have been wandering aimlessly about the island
ever since until we were surprised by these natives a few
moments ago. Both the seamen were killed in this last fight
and Mr. Foster and myself taken prisoners--the rest you
know."
Byrne was on his feet now. He found his sword and
revolver and replaced them in his belt.
"You men stay here on the island and take care of Miss
Harding," he said. "If I don't come back the marines will find
you sooner or later, or you can make your way to the coast,
and work around toward the cove. Good-bye, Miss Harding."
"Where are you going?" cried the girl.
"To get your father--and Mr. Mallory," said the mucker.
