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Rinehart, Mary Roberts, 1876-1958

"The After House"

Then she
glanced at me, and shrugged her shoulders. "How can we know?
Perhaps this is a mutiny, and you are on your way to some God
forsaken island. That's the usual thing among pirates, isn't it?"
"I have no answer to that, Mrs. Johns," I said quietly, and turned
to where Elsa sat.
"I shall not come back unless you send for me," I said. "But I
want you to know that my one object in life from now on is to get
you back safely to land; that your safety comes first, and that
the vigilance on deck in your interest will not be relaxed."
"Fine words!" the stewardess muttered.
The low mumbling from Turner's room had persisted steadily. Now it
rose again in the sharp frenzy that had characterized it through
the long night.
"Don't look at me like that, man!" he cried, and then "He's lost a
hand! A hand!"
Mrs. Turner went quickly into the cabin, and the sounds ceased. I
looked at Elsa, but she avoided my eyes. I turned heavily and went
up the companionway.


CHAPTER XV
A KNOCKING IN THE HOLD

It rained heavily all that day. Late in the afternoon we got some
wind, and all hands turned out to trim sail. Action was a relief,
and the weather suited our disheartened state better than had the
pitiless August sun, the glaring white of deck and canvas, and the
heat.


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