For the first time in many
days she could taste the relief of being alone. The men with her were
less than nothing. She could not speak to them; she could not understand
them; the canoe might have been moving by enchantment--if it did move
at all. Like a half-conscious sleeper she was on the verge of saying to
herself, "What a strange dream I am having."
The low tones of Jaffir's voice stole into it quietly telling the men to
cease paddling, and the long canoe came to a rest slowly, no more than
ten yards from the beach. The party had been provided with a torch which
was to be lighted before the canoe touched the shore, thus giving a
character of openness to this desperate expedition. "And if it draws
fire on us," Jaffir had commented to Jorgenson, "well, then, we shall
see whose fate it is to die on this night."
"Yes," had muttered Jorgenson. "We shall see."
Jorgenson saw at last the small light of the torch against the blackness
of the stockade. He strained his hearing for a possible volley of
musketry fire but no sound came to him over the broad surface of the
lagoon. Over there the man with the torch, the other paddler, and Jaffir
himself impelling with a gentle motion of his paddle the canoe toward
the shore, had the glistening eyeballs and the tense faces of silent
excitement.
Pages:
442
443
444
445
446
447
448
449
450
451
452
453
454
455
456
457
458
459
460
461
462
463
464
465
466