Even before he heard the voice of his savage enemy, Christy Passford realized that he had fallen into the hands of the commander of the Snapper. He was placed on the back seat of the carriage, with a pair of handcuffs on his wrists, and a handkerchief in his mouth to do duty as a gag. Captain Flanger was at his side, with two other men on the front seat, and one on the box with the driver. Against these four men he was powerless to make any resistance while he was in irons.

The carriage was drawn by two horses, and was considerably larger than the ordinary victoria used in the town. It was quite dark, and though the streets were flanked with many houses, hardly a person appeared to be stirring at this hour. But a vehicle loaded down with the rough visitors of the place could not be an unusual sight, for they 236 were the kind of people who were disposed to make the night hideous, as well as the day.

Christy had struggled with all his might to shake off the ruffians who beset him, and two more had come out from their concealment when he thought he was making some progress in freeing himself from their grasp. As soon as his wrists were ironed he realized that resistance was useless, and that it could only increase his discomfort. It was a terrible calamity to have fallen into the power of a man so brutal and unscrupulous as Captain Flanger, bent upon revenging himself for the mutilation of his most prominent facial member. He was certainly disfigured for life, though the wound made by the ball from the revolver had healed; but it was an ill-looking member, and he appeared to be conscious of his facial deformity all the time.

The men in the carriage said nothing, and Christy was unable to speak. They seemed to be afraid of attracting the attention of the few passers-by in the streets, and of betraying the nature of the outrage in which they were engaged. The streets in the more frequented parts of the town were crowded with men, as the victim had been able 237 to see, and he hoped that they would come across some large collection of people. In that case he decided to make a demonstration that would attract the attention of the police, if nothing more.

He had no idea of the location of Fort Montague, to which the man on the box had been ordered to drive them. The direction was to a beach near the fort; and he had no doubt there would be a boat there in readiness to convey him to the Snapper. But the farther the carriage proceeded, the less frequented the streets became. He found no opportunity to make his intended demonstration. His only hope now was that Mr. Gilfleur, who must have been in the vicinity of the hotel, had witnessed the outrage, and would interfere, as he had done on Bay Street, and save him from the fate that was in store for him.

In a rather lonely place Christy discovered the outline in the darkness of what looked like a fort. At the same moment he heard the distant stroke of some public clock, striking nine o'clock. This was the time appointed for the meeting with the detective, and he had been at the place a quarter of an hour before, which fully explained why the detective had not been there; and probably he had 238 been in his room. This conclusion seemed to cut off all hope that he had witnessed the attack upon him.

The carriage stopped at the beach below the fort. It was the bathing-place for the town, and at this hour it was entirely deserted. The person on the box with the driver was the first to alight, and he ran down to the water. He returned in a few minutes to the carriage, the other ruffians retaining their places.

"The boat is not here yet, but it is coming," said this man, reporting to the captain.

"All right; I told the mate to be here at nine o'clock, and it has just struck that hour," replied Flanger. "Go down to the water, driver."

The vehicle moved down to the water's edge and stopped again. At the same time the boat grated on the sand, and came to a halt a few feet from the dry ground.

"We are all right now," said the person who had been with the driver on the box; and this time Christy recognized his voice as that of Percy Pierson.

He had not mistaken or misjudged him. He had not been able to understand why the young 239 man should befriend him, and it was clear enough now, if it had not been before, that his gratitude towards him was a mere pretence. Captain Passford, senior desired to get rid of him, and had put him on board of the schooner for this reason only.

"Captain Passford, we meet again, as I was sure we should when we parted in Nassau to-day," said the commander of the Snapper. "Now, if you will take the trouble to get out of the carriage, we shall be able to make you comfortable before we have done with you."

Christy attempted to speak; but the gag prevented him from articulating, and he could not breathe as freely as usual. The captain drew the handkerchief from his mouth, for there was no one within a long distance of the spot to aid the prisoner if he had called for help. The victim had fully determined to resign himself to his fate, and make the best of the situation until an opportunity offered to effect his escape, though he greatly feared that such an opportunity would not be presented.

"Thank you, Captain Flanger; I am much obliged to you for giving me a better chance to breathe, though I suppose you are not very anxious 240 that I should continue to breathe," replied Christy, assuming a degree of good nature which had no substantial foundation in reality. "On the contrary, I dare say you intend to stop my breathing altogether as soon as you find it convenient to do so."

"Not so; you can do all the breathing you want to, and I won't interfere as long as you behave yourself," replied Captain Flanger in a more civilized tone than his victim had heard him use before.

"But to-day noon you swore that you would kill me," added the prisoner, much surprised at the change in th............