Lillian tried to wrench her hands from his grasp.  They were pinioned so tightly behind her that she could not move.  Eleanor slipped off her divan.  She and Lillian had no weapons with which to defend themselves.  Eleanor thought if she could get out of the room, while the man held Lillian, she could cry for help.  Her first scream would bring Phyllis to their aid, and Phil would come to their assistance prepared to fight.

Eleanor looked so young and girlish that no one would have expected her to show resistance.  She tried to look even more frightened than she really felt.  “We haven’t any money on board,” she said quietly.  “We don’t keep our money here, but if you are hungry, we will give you something to eat without your being so fierce.”  Eleanor was edging slowly away from her couch.

“I don’t want a slice of pie and your stale bread,” the man replied angrily.  “I want everything you have got, and I want it quick.”

Now was Eleanor’s chance.  Lillian gave another frantic tug, attempting to free her hands.  She had not cried out since the man seized her, but her face was contracted with pain.  The robber was so fully occupied with holding her he was not looking at Eleanor, although his eyes slanted go curiously that he could apparently see on all sides of him.

Eleanor made a quick rush forward.  With a thud she fell to the floor, and lay stunned by the force of her fall.  The tramp, still holding Lillian by her wrists, had jerked her backward, thrown out his foot and tripped Eleanor.  Now, before Lillian could scream, he whipped out a dirty handkerchief and tied it so tightly about her mouth that she could scarcely breathe.  He next took a piece of twine and twisted it about Lillian’s wrists, so that the cord cut into them.

While this scene of violence was being enacted Phil was perfectly happy and strangely unconscious of any trouble.  She was still at work, sweeping the upper deck and clearing it of the trash she had made with her gardening.  She was humming gayly to herself or she would have heard the sounds below more plainly.  “There was a man in our town, and he was wondrous wise.”  She stopped short.  She had heard a noise, as though something had fallen.  But then, the girls were always dropping things and stumbling over their few pieces of furniture.  There was no further noise.  Phil went on with her singing.  But why did Lillian and Eleanor not start the farmer boy to scrubbing?  It was getting late, and they wished to decorate the boat.  Phil was too busy at her own task to go down to discover the reason.

The tramp gazed sarcastically at Lillian, whose eyes watched him defiantly, then at Eleanor, who was still lying on the floor.  “Now, girls,” he began with mock politeness, “I imagine you will be kind enough to be quiet for a time at least.  So I think I will look around to see if there is anything here that I would like.”  He seized poor Lillian’s plate of chocolate fudge and stuffed the candy into his pockets.  Then he left the sitting room and crept into the bedroom which was used by Miss Jones and Eleanor.  He found Eleanor’s purse under her pillow and pocketed it.  On the small dressing-table was Miss Jenny Ann’s purse.  He chuckled softly.  This was the best of the sport.