The British Mysteries Edition: 14 Novels & 70+ Short Stories. Sapper
me. I could feel the fingers pressing on me gently."
"Stay here," snapped Jim. "Percy, get your gun, and come with me."
He picked up his own revolver, and started along the corridor out of which the cabins led.
"Is there a light inside?" he muttered.
"No," said Percy. "I didn't bother as he's blind."
"Go back and get my electric torch. It's in the small locker." And suddenly his voice rose to a shout. "God! look at that."
They had left the dwarf standing in the centre of the saloon. He was still there, but just above his head were two great brown hands, that, even as they watched, shot down and clutched him by the throat. Then, before their eyes, he was drawn up, screaming like a pig, and disappeared.
For a moment or two they stood motionless, rooted to the spot: then simultaneously they dashed back into the saloon. The fan-light was wide open: he had been lifted through it. They could still hear him screaming, but as they darted up on deck there came a heavy splash, and silence.
"The dinghy," roared Jim. "Pull it alongside, while I get the rifle."
They jumped into the little boat, and rowed feverishly for the shore. And having beached her they stood listening. Not a sound could they hear, save the monotonous roar of the breakers on the reef. And then from some way off the piteous shrieks of the dwarf began again. They raced along the beach, but the cries grew fainter and fainter. Some stones came rattling down beside them: the thing was climbing the hill. And after a while silence settled once again.
They made their way slowly back to the dinghy: any idea of pursuit was impossible. By day Jim would not have hesitated to fire, trusting to his marvellous eye not to hit Dresler. But in the darkness he was helpless.
"This is getting beyond a joke," he said quietly, as they rowed back. "Not that I care a damn what happens to that little brute, but it's going to make it the devil for us."
"In what way?" cried his cousin.
"He was our guarantee for Judy. And now to-morrow morning we've got to tackle the yacht with neither him nor Barnet. Of course they won't believe us. Damn it! Percy, I wouldn't believe it myself if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes."
They tied up the boat, and went on board. And at that moment the moon rose from behind the hill. Silhouetted on the sky line was an enormous figure, and instinctively Jim threw up his rifle. Then he lowered it again.
"Too long a range," he said regretfully. "But look at the size of the thing."
A bellowing roar of defiance, twice repeated, came across the water: then the sky line was clear once more.
"I hold no brief for Dresler," he went on gravely, "but he's going to pay for his sins this night. Look at the marks of the brute on the deck."
In the brilliant light of the tropical moon the wet footprints showed up clearly: marks just like those they had seen in the mud that afternoon.
"Probably the same one that took the wretched Lopez," muttered Jim. "Gad! Percy, I'll be glad to get Judy out of this."
"Why don't we push off now?" said his cousin. "This light is almost as bright as day."
"You're right, old lad. We will. I'd forgotten about the moon when I said to-morrow morning. Go and get the engines started."
Percy went below, and Jim sat down on a coil of rope thinking. How to get Judy off the yacht—that was the problem. He had no idea which her cabin would be, and even if he could find out it would be impossible to approach the yacht unseen in the moonlight. There was certain to be some form of watch kept, however slack discipline might be. And then there was Bill too: it was out of the question to leave him behind. Still it was a good idea to go now: anything was better than this enforced idleness. And he would feel easier in his mind if he was on board the yacht himself.
He glanced at the opening in the rocks with anxious eyes. If only Bill had been still with them it would have made it so much easier. They wanted someone in the bows badly, to help con the boat.
"All ready when you are," shouted Percy, and he rose to his feet. The sooner they were through the better, and if they were going to pile up there was no good putting it off. But their luck was in. Twice did a wet jagged pinnacle of rock show out of the swell within a foot of them: once quite distinctly they felt her graze. And then came Jim's cheerful shout of "Full speed ahead"; they were through, and steering for the open sea.
"What did you make of that thing, Jim?" said his cousin, joining him at the wheel. "Have you ever seen anything like it before?"
"No, I haven't," answered the other thoughtfully. "But we've seen what happened to Lopez. And there is no doubt at all in my mind that he never went ashore of his own free will. They got him just as they got Dresler. Which shows pretty conclusively that they do not remain merely on the defensive, but are prepared to be the aggressors. Incredible though it may seem, Percy, my own belief is that very few people have ever got away from this island—that what Bill told us was true. And it's that, far more than any harm Judy may come to from Don Miguel, that is making me so desperately uneasy."
"You think they may attack the yacht?"
"I think it is a certainty. But my hope is that they may wait till a party goes ashore, as they did in the case of the Paquinetta. They evidently possess a certain low cunning, and then they may hesitate to board the yacht when she is fully manned. In which case it will be to-morrow night, because they won't land anyone till they've got the map. That's what I'm banking on."
He paused abruptly, staring ahead. They were steering parallel with the edge of the swamp, over which the mist now lay like a blanket of cotton wool.
"Listen," he cried. "My God! there's another. Race her, Percy: take the bottom out of her. There is firing going on in front of us."
His cousin sprang below, and the next moment the boat was quivering from bow to stern like a mad thing. But even above the sound of the engine came the ominous crack, crack, of firearms, followed after a time by an even more ominous silence. And sick with anxiety Jim stood at the wheel staring over the glittering silver water ahead. Did that abrupt cessation of firing mean that the things had been repulsed, or did it mean...? Not even to himself could he complete the alternative.
They rounded the point, and saw the yacht lying at anchor a mile away. Lights were shining through some of the portholes, but they could see no sign of any movement, though in the moonlight the deck and bridge were clearly visible. She was about a quarter of a mile from the shore, and the first thing they noticed as they drew alongside was that the steps of the gangway were sopping wet.
They made fast, and dashed up on deck. And the sight that confronted them was so incredible that for a moment or two they stood there unable to move. The yacht was a shambles. Just in front of them lay Bully McIntyre, a blood-spattered crowbar still gripped in his hands. His head was bent back, and round his throat were great red weals. His neck had been broken from behind. Others of the crew lay about with their heads battered in: the sickly smell of blood was everywhere. It was a ghastly scene in the cold white light at any time, but one that was calculated to make them numb with horror when they thought of Judy.
They rushed below; all the cabins were open. And inside the first one they entered they came on what was left of Don Miguel. But it was not on the crushed remnants that Jim's eyes were fixed, but on the chair that stood by the bed. On it lay a little revolver, and he picked it up.
"Judy's," he muttered hoarsely. "The one I gave her. Oh! my God."
"Jim: come here."
A hoarse shaking voice which he dimly recognised as Percy's came from outside, and like a man walking in his sleep he joined him in the corridor.
"Look at that."
The door of the next cabin had been splintered to match wood, and on the bed lay Judy's hat. For a while they stood looking at it, not daring to meet one another's eyes. The situation was beyond speech: beyond thought. Judy was in the hands of these monstrous horrors, without