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Parrish, Randall, 1858-1923

"Gordon Craig Soldier of Fortune"

Now, by God!
you 'll take your medicine!"
I still stood motionless, my back to the rail, letting him rave, but
watching every movement. I knew the girl's eyes were on my face,
although I did not venture to glance toward her, not even when the
negro guided her aft through the ring of seamen. Yet this was the one
thing I was waiting for, my heart beating fiercely, in fear lest the
Lieutenant might give signal for attack too soon. I remember the faces
about me, fierce, scowling faces, of men wild to lay hold upon me at
the first word of command, yet it was Henley I looked at, measuring the
distance between us, and watching the revolver in his hand. What did
he mean to do? Kill me, or give me over into the hands of those
merciless devils? All I could read in his eyes was hatred, exultation,
consciousness of power. Suddenly he laughed, a sneering, cynical
laugh, as though he thought me cringing before him in terror. The man
judged me by himself, and believed me helpless.
"Hard luck, Craig--hey!" he began tauntingly. "Played with the wrong
man, did n't you. Now I 've got the girl just as I want her, and as
for you--Lord! but I 'll keep you to play with all the way to Honduras.
It will be a pleasant voyage, my friend. Here, Masters, you and Peters
stand by.


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