Prisoners of Chance. Randall Parrish

Muttering an imprecation upon my faint-heartedness, I instantly swung off on to the dangling rope, slipping silently downward through the shadows to meet whatsoever fate might lurk below.

      It was a confused tangle of ropes I was compelled to traverse, yet none greatly interfered with my progress, except to render it slower, and the consequent strain harder upon the arms. The huge foremast, close against which I swung, grew bulkier as I descended. Suddenly my feet touched the solid deck. I discovered myself between the foremast and the rail, so dropping upon hands and knees I crept silently around, hoping thus to gain clearer view forward. As I circled the vast butt of the mast I came suddenly face to face with the friar, sitting upon the deck and blinking at me with drunken gravity.

CHAPTER VI

       Table of Contents

THE ROLE OF PÈRE CASSATI

       Table of Contents

      I have no knowledge as to what the surprised priest thought regarding the astounding apparition thus bursting upon him. Perchance he mistook me for the ghost of some ancient Father Superior visiting him in warning of his sins. However, I permitted him small space for any reflection. I have ever been swift in action; was awake then with the excitement of my venture, and little accustomed to hesitancy at such a time. Moreover, I despised the fellow, and was not loath to be the instrument of punishment to him, and I never struck any man a deadlier blow with the bare fist than that I put in just back of his ear. My posture was not the best for such exercise; nevertheless it permitted me to do the work, and he went over without word or groan, even as I have seen a buck fall to the rifle when the ball sang straight to the heart.

      Indeed, so limp did he drop upon his side, with not a sigh to relieve the sickening impression, I feared at first I had killed him—for it is a wicked blow, such as has caused death more than once. I was reassured, however, by listening intently at his heart, and, not knowing how soon he might revive in the cool night air, took precautions to keep him dumb before venturing to leave him huddled against the butt of the great mast, and proceed forth on my own mission.

      To lower the long gray skirt of my monk's robe until it touched the deck planks, loosening as I did so the hunting knife securely hidden within my waist-belt, and to draw up the coarse, ample hood, thus better to conceal my features, after the same manner I was pleased to note Cassati wore his, were my first duties. The way of procedure had been made clear; fate had seemingly solved that problem. My sole prospect of attaining the guarded space between decks, of reaching the cell of the man I sought, lay in careful impersonation of the drunken French priest, now lying insensible at my feet. Nor in this imposture did I anticipate serious difficulty. Everything thus far had developed so favorably I became hopeful of the outcome—the inspiration of success brought with it renewed courage and confidence. The exciting incidents of the night had awakened me to the humor of the venture, and I smiled grimly at the rare conceit of the contemplated masquerade. Nor did it promise an especially difficult part to play. We were of similar size, broad-shouldered, stocky men, with smoothly shaven faces, the difference therein hardly likely to be observed by careless eyes, beneath dimly burning lights. I knew enough regarding his peculiarities of voice and manner to imitate both fairly well, so only an accident, or some careless slip of the tongue, would be apt to reveal the fraud. In short, I was armed with audacity, doubting little that I should safely pass the guards. Anyway, there was nothing else for it; 'twas a moment when one must cast timidity to the winds.

      Yet I found it difficult to essay the first step in so desperate an enterprise. For several moments I waited, hanging back within the shadow of the mast, gathering my wits together for the chances of the play, while endeavoring to pick out details of the situation along those silent, gloomy decks. Owing to the mass of over-hanging cordage and the high wooden bulwarks on either side, the night appeared even darker than when I was above, perched on the dizzy yard. Occasionally some deeper shadow, or the noise of voice or footfall, made apparent to me the life on board. Toward the stern that steady tramping back and forth of the officer on watch continued uninterrupted, as he paced steadily from rail to rail. I could even distinguish the dim outlines of his lower limbs as he passed and repassed before the single gleaming point of light on board. I was also assured as to a group of seamen forward, hard against a steeper rise of the deck; once I heard the officer aft call out some unintelligible order, when one of the group detached himself from among those others and passed along the opposite side of the mast from where I lay, yet so close I could have touched him with extended hand. I felt convinced a sentinel stood beside the hatch, and imagined I could distinguish the faint outlines of another farther back, near the rail. Trusting to avoid interference from this latter soldier—for I sought no risk of accident which might be escaped—I crept around upon the opposite side of the deck from where I had been crouching so long. Getting my new bearings as well as possible amid such confusing darkness, I finally set my teeth to it, rose, and bore directly down upon the hatchway, lurching somewhat heavily and unsteadily upon my feet.

      Whatever vestige of doubt lingered as to the nature of my reception on board the "Santa Maria" was quickly out to rest. In return there came to me, from that first experience, a measure of confidence in my assumed character that enabled me to impersonate my drunken priestly predecessor with a degree of cool perfection that surprised myself. Faith, 't is always so; life is like the teetering-board of children, ever up or down. Evidently the father in his night migrations had passed that way before, as the sentry—he appeared a burly fellow in the gloom—after making certain as to the identity of his unsteady visitor, asked no unpleasant questions, merely contenting himself with gruff, good-natured warning to the padre to be more careful this time and not fall down the ladder.

      "Holy saints!" he added soothingly, "your worship's head must be ringing yet with the blow it got."

      To this uncharitable remark I maintained dignified silence, and, flinging my somewhat uncertain limbs over the coamings, went scrambling down, leaving him to his solitary meditations.

      There was no light burning in the big square room below, merely a faint yellow reflection stealing forth from that passageway leading aft. For this blessing of Providence I was profoundly thankful. A good half-dozen of the night guard, wearing similar uniform with those I had met on duty during the afternoon, were idly lounging about the butt of the mainmast, evidently awaiting turn on sentry post, and ready enough to welcome any diversion chancing their way which would help to break the dull tedium of the night. I observed likewise, as I made a drunken pause at the foot of the ladder in an apparently vain endeavor to steady myself, that these roisterers of the night-watch were a set of jolly dogs, and had been opening numerous bottles of red wine with which to pass lagging hours more pleasantly. They were already in that gay, thoughtless spirit of badinage which comes of fair allowance. Good humor had laid careless hand on duty, until, the stern restraint of discipline noticeably relaxing, good fellowship had become king. Their officer lay outstretched at full length upon three camp stools, a fellow long of limb, with face as dark as a Moor. He made no effort to arise from his undignified position, yet hailed me as though I had been a boon companion of his revel.

      "Ha!" he exclaimed gleefully, tapping as he spoke an empty glass against the deck. "Comrades, 't is as I prophesied; we are not long robbed of the Church. See, the most reverend Father hath already returned unto his own. Truly art thou welcome, padre, for I fear thy flock were about to go astray without a shepherd. Ho, Alva! seest thou not the coming of thine own liege lord? or art thou already so blinded by good liquor thou would'st dare neglect the very Pope himself, did he honor us with his company? Alva, I say, you roistering hound, you drunken blade, bring hither a stool for the worthy confessor! Faith! doth he not bear the sins of us all, and must he not be greatly aweary with so vast a load. Saint Theresa! 't is fortunate there is yet a bottle left uncracked for the good padre!" I gathered the heavy hood closer about my face, so as better to muffle voice as well as conceal features; made an apparent effort to stand firm, but with such poor success I noticed the grins expand on the faces watching me.