Swinging this over his
shoulder, hampered by the narrowness of space, he struck again and again,
with all his strength, the upper panel splintering beneath the third
crashing blow. He could see nothing, but felt with his fingers along the
jagged ends of the shattered wood, and redoubled his efforts, striking
wildly, but with effect, until suddenly the lock gave, and the door burst
open. He was in the main cabin, which was unlit and deserted. Standing
there confused in the grim silence, unable for the instant to determine
how to advance in the dark, he could hear the rapid beating of his own
heart, and the continuous lap of waves outside. God! how sodden the deck
felt under foot; what a sickening swell hurled the craft, and such
stillness! If the girl was aboard why did she not cry out? Surely she
must have heard that noise, the rain of blows, the crunch of wood.
He stood, crouched, listening intently for something to guide him in the
right direction. And yet, even if Natalie had heard, what reason would
the girl have to suspect the truth? Likely enough she was sound asleep,
completely worn out, and with no knowledge of what had occurred on board.
It was only the sound of that voice speaking loudly in the boat alongside
which had aroused him. She had no reason to suspect desertion, no
occasion to believe any other prisoner than herself was aboard. The noise
of crashing wood, even if it awoke her, would have no special meaning to
her mind, only perhaps to add to her terror.
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