<h3 class="newchapter2">THE ATTACK ON THE FEU FOLLETTE.</h3>
<p>By means of the floating blind the Point had been carried out across the
narrow channel until its edge rested on the bar; and the schooner lay
with a heavy list broadside on to the hard sand. Yellow Rufe and his
followers, runaways from the pirates' camp, maroons banished from their
homes for crimes against their fellows, rebellious slaves, and what not,
splashed through the shallow water and stormed the Feu Follette by way
of the jib-boom and head-rigging, while Sancho urged his boats on toward
the vessel's quarters.</p>
<p>Dolores, uncertain yet as to Sancho's motives, but in no uncertainty as
to Rufe's, paused but to look around for Milo as she leaped down the
cliff. The giant was even then engaged in thwarting an inclination on
the part of the yachtsmen to follow Dolores, for, her spell gone for the
moment, Venner felt all an owner's solicitude for his property. But Milo
had been well schooled;<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_467" id="Page_467">[Pg 467]</SPAN></span> he knew how to play upon little weaknesses;
Pascherette had told him, if he had not seen for himself, how
amorousness and cupidity formed the key-note of character in the
visitors; and now he used the knowledge to the fullest extent. The
little octoroon appeared as Dolores watched; she had hastily attired
herself in dry clothes, a single garment more filmy and daring than that
she had worn to swim aboard the schooner, and from her mistress's store
had borrowed jewels that transformed her into a beautiful little golden
butterfly.</p>
<p>Dolores saw all this in a flash; she saw Pascherette take capable charge
of the three men, led them away from the cliff, and then Milo advanced
to the steep path. Turning swiftly to resume her career, Dolores uttered
a shrill, piercing cry that the giant understood perfectly, and she
plunged into the sea as he bounded down the slope to her support.</p>
<p>The schooner's crew were already hard pressed; but they fought like men,
led courageously by Peters, the sailing master. As Dolores cleft the
sparkling water, speeding out to them like a gorgeous sprite of the
waves, men tugged at gun-tackles to swing a piece around to rake their
own decks, for Yellow Rufe and his ruffians had swept the forecastle
clear of defenders. And Dolores reached the vessel, climbed over the
low-listing rail nimbly as a jungle cat, at the instant when Sancho's
boats hooked on to the main-chains and took the crew in the rear.</p>
<p>The pirate queen stood for a single long breath to grasp the scene in
its entirety. Panting slightly from her exertions, her blazing eyes and
heaving breast rendered her a figure of bewildering and awful
loveliness; and the Feu Follette's men paused in the fight out of sheer
amazement.</p>
<p>Sancho's gaze fell on her the moment his evil head topped the rail, and
into his eyes crept an expression of detected insubordination. He sought
Yellow Rufe, but Dolores had seen all she needed to apprise her that
this was a concerted attempt to flout her authority. Then Rufe's hoarse
roar went up, and the tide of struggling men surged anew, and Sancho,
plucking up heart, rejoined with a scream.</p>
<p>"Into the sea with the dogs!" he cried. "'Tis such a craft as Jabez
would love to see ye carry."</p>
<p>The fight rolled aft, and Dolores was left standing alone by the midship
shot-rack. She singled out a few of her men by name, and commanded them
to rally to her side; then, seizing a cutlas from the deck, she glided
tigerishly to the main companionway, down which the pirates were now
driving the beaten crew, and the men she had picked out were shorn of
all indecision as Milo leaped on board with a bull-throated shout and
gained her side.</p>
<p>"Sancho! Rufe! Have done with this play!" she cried, placing herself in
front of the blood-hungry horde. "Dogs, fall back! Have ye no memory
that ye forget how Dolores strikes?"</p>
<p>Milo had picked up a handspike, and with it across his breast he bore
back the scowling rascals, smiling the while himself with quiet
contempt. But one, hardier than the rest, ran to the skylight, dashed in
the glass with his boot, and cried with outflung arm:</p>
<p>"A plague upon her and her strokes. See yonder, lads—her cunning
trick—our sloop comes back empty-handed, as she well knew it would—and
here lies to your hands work that the Red Chief had reveled in. Down
with her and the big bull! Below is loot fit for bold fellows."</p>
<p>Without moving from where he stood, Milo pivoted around, the heavy
handspike—six feet of true ash—rigid as a bar of iron, took the
overbold pirate at the base of the skull and spilled his brains into the
breach he had made. Growling with fury, a man from Sancho's crew sprang
to avenge the stroke with steel, and his blade creased down Milo's
sturdy ribs before the giant had recovered from his own swing. And with
the hissing slit of ripping skin Milo's debt was paid for him. Dolores,
agile as a panther, reached the pirate with her cutlas pointed, and the
steel hilt rang against his breast-bone.</p>
<p>But in the momentary pause in her vigilance, a score of Rufe's ruffians
burst past her and poured below into the saloon, where renewed sounds of
combat told of the ferreting out of the beaten crew.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_468" id="Page_468">[Pg 468]</SPAN></span>"Milo, follow me!" cried Dolores, springing down the stairs herself,
careless whether her wavering half-dozen followed or stayed. Her whole
soul was sickened with the fear that this vessel, the long-wished-for
means of her release from what had become a hateful bondage, was in
danger of destruction at the red hands of Rufe's undisciplined dogs. And
swiftly approaching on the freshening evening breeze her sloop grew
momentarily clearer to the eye; it was easy to fancy she could hear the
howls of disappointed rage pealing up from her deck; it needed no second
sight to determine the side those humiliated pirates would take, when
they hove alongside another prey which promised at least a taste of
coveted loot.</p>
<p>In the brief time since the pirates' entry the schooner's saloon had
become a place of desolation. All the magnificence of unrestricted cost
was there; and all the beauty of artistic selection; and over all was
the mark of the beast—blood and torn hangings, corpses and splintered
panels, chaos and sulfur smoke as the pillage started. Dolores sought
out through the smoke a breathing man in the uniform of the yacht, and
swiftly placed her lips to his ear, her mind made up to a terrible
expedient to save this vessel for herself.</p>
<p>"Tell me quickly—where is the magazine?"</p>
<p>The man opened his agonized eyes, saw that splendid blazing face close
to his own, and shook his head loyally. He would give his master's
enemies no assistance.</p>
<p>"Speak, fool!" she hissed, shaking him. They were alone by the great
table-leg on the red-stained carpet. "I would defeat these sharks! Where
is the powder?"</p>
<p>The man looked into her eyes again, and she smiled at him. It was
enough. He weakly pointed to a stout door on the starboard side, forward
of the sailing master's stateroom door, beyond which the sound of axes
already resounded. The owner's and guests' quarters were filled to
overflowing with ravenous wolves tearing and ripping in a frenzy of
pillage. At the after-end of the saloon a pirate stood over a great
cask, issuing jugs of liquor to such of his fellows as found time amid
the riot to drink. Milo gripped his handspike, waiting for a command
that should send him like awful Fate into the thick of the murderous
mob.</p>
<p>"Milo! Bring me a powder-keg from that magazine!" Dolores said, still
crouching low and hidden beneath the smoke-pall. The giant entered the
room, shattering the lock with a lunge of his shoulder, and returned
bearing an unopened keg of cannon powder.</p>
<p>"Place it upon the table." Then the girl rose to her feet with eyes
glittering coldly and lips pressed to a tight line. "Find me a lighted
brand—swiftly!" she said, and when the giant snatched up a splinter of
dry wood, lighting it at the steward's brazier in the little pantry off
the saloon, she swept majestically aft to suddenly confront the roaring
ruffian at the wine cask.</p>
<p>"Milo, hurl this liquor cask away!"</p>
<p>Milo picked up the heavy barrel as a man might pick up a cushion, heaved
it above his head, and flung it like a cannon-shot at the door, behind
which rang the greatest noise, while the pirate, whose care the wine had
been, gaped like a stranded fish.</p>
<p>"Now this dog!"</p>
<p>The man followed his cask before his mouth closed from his astonishment;
but as he flew his leathern lungs performed their office and warned the
pillagers of peril. Out from cabins and storerooms poured the rascals,
gorged with fine wines and delicate foods seized in their pillaging;
steamy with blood not yet dried on their bestial faces. And when the
great saloon was full, Dolores raised her torch above her head and
blazed out at them:</p>
<p>"In five short breaths this vessel carries all thy black souls to hell!
Skulking rats, swim while the breath is in you!"</p>
<p>The torch came down, Milo smashed in the head of the keg, revealing the
terrible contents, and as if in grim jest he snatched up a sprinkling of
the powder and flicked some grains into the flare of the torch. If there
had been any doubt as to the deadly earnestness of Dolores, there could
be none now, for sparks crackled and spit in fearful nearness to that
open keg. Men stampeded for the stairs, hurling each other down in their
frenzy; but Yellow Rufe and Sancho<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_469" id="Page_469">[Pg 469]</SPAN></span> lingered. Theirs had been the
gravest fault; if they fled, it must be only to do penance some other
day; if they forced Dolores's hand, at least she and that scornful giant
must die the death also. They stood their ground, staring defiantly into
her expressionless face.</p>
<p>Dolores spoke no word more. Milo stood like a bronze figure of Doom at
her side, his noble face expressionless as hers. Between them stood that
keg of terrible possibilities. The girl lowered the torch until the
flame all but licked the wood of the keg; a dropping piece of charred
wood fell audibly against the side. Sancho's breath caught painfully;
Yellow Rufe's bloodshot eyes wavered. Still they held on.</p>
<p>"Milo, I give thee freedom!" said Dolores in a low, distinct voice that
carried to their ears like the sound of a silver bell. "Farewell,
faithful friend!"</p>
<p>The torch swept around, fanning to a blaze in the eddying air, then
darted toward the keg. And with a yell that echoed on deck and far out
over the sea, Yellow Rufe and Sancho turned and fled, fighting with each
other, as had their less bold fellows, for the precious air of safety.</p>
<p>Dolores laughed contemptuously, flung the torch aside and bade Milo
trample it out, then she, too, ascended to the deck to view her victory.
The sea was dotted with swimming men, the beach was full of running men,
terrified men made the cliff resound with their cries. Then, sure that
the schooner was free of foes, Dolores looked toward the sloop, now
within hail of the schooner and coming fast with sail and sweeps, while
her crew stared over the low bulwarks in puzzlement as to the reason for
the hasty exodus from the strange craft.</p>
<p>"Here, Milo, is fresh fare of trouble. Hast brought my own flag?"</p>
<p>"Here, Sultana," replied Milo, taking a carefully folded silken banner
from a pocket in his leathern tunic.</p>
<p>"Hoist it, then, at the main! Perhaps Hanglip and Caliban, Stumpy and
the rest of my brave jackals, will forego their expected meal at sight
of it. And send forth a shout for slaves; this vessel must be cleansed
and her people's wounds attended to."</p>
<p>Up at the schooner's lofty main-truck the Sultana's private flag
fluttered out; the mark and sign of Dolores's ownership. And while three
anxious yachtsmen on the cliff-top waited for her return, a hundred and
twenty hungry and thirsty baffled ruffians on the sloop cursed her
vehemently in their hoarse, dry throats.</p>
<h2 class="newchapter"><SPAN name="CHAPTER_VIII" id="CHAPTER_VIII"></SPAN>CHAPTER VIII.</h2>
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