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Parrish, Randall, 1858-1923

"Gordon Craig Soldier of Fortune"

It was a dark night, although a few stars were visible, and
the _Sea Gull_ was steaming slowly through a fairly rough sea, pounding
against her port quarter. Little twinkles of light were visible off
the port side, so numerous as to make me suspicion land, while a narrow
strip of moon, barely exposed beneath an edge of cloud, convinced me
our course was almost directly east. This was strange if the boat's
destination was Spanish Honduras, and the Captain was, as he contended,
desirous of making a swift passage. I recall this flash of thought,
yet my attention almost instantly reverted elsewhere. The closer we
hugged the shore the greater the opportunity for escape, the more vital
the necessity of immediately establishing communication with the fair
prisoner below.
A glance sufficed to convince that I was alone, and unobserved. The
deck was unobstructed aft, except for a small boat swung to davits
astern, and the cabin transoms. These last were elevated some three
feet, but considerable space separated from the rail. I slipped into
this opening on the port side, crouching in the dense shadow, until
again assured I was alone. My position afforded as good a view forward
as the darkness would permit, and likewise enabled me to see into the
dimly lit cabin below.


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