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Parrish, Randall, 1858-1923

"Gordon Craig Soldier of Fortune"

We might have merely crossed their path,
interfered with their criminal plans. If so, then it was more than
likely our release would not be long delayed. Indeed, the man who
appeared to be the chief, had already said he would turn the girl free
in New Orleans, where she could do them no harm. New Orleans then was,
doubtless, the port for which we sailed. My knowledge of distance was
vague, yet that could not be a long voyage, nor one involving any great
danger. It was clear they meant no personal harm to her, and they
would never have brought me on board alive, if they had deemed it
necessary to otherwise dispose of me. These considerations were in the
main reassuring, and as I turned them over in my mind I drifted into
better humor. Besides, my head had ceased to ache, and a little
exercise put my numbed limbs into fair condition.
It was fully an hour after the coming of darkness before I was
disturbed. Then the door opened, and the entering gleam of a light
swinging in the passage revealed the grinning negro steward bearing a
well-filled tray. This he deposited in the berth, while applying a
match to the lamp overhead. I saw no shadow of any guard outside, but
the fellow made no effort to close the door, and I did not move,
confident he was not alone.


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