It was the hail for which I had waited so long and anxiously.  But the news that came with it was strange and startling.

“The man at the wheel,” shouted Lynch, “has jumped overboard with the mate!” Then his cry went forward, “Man overboard!”

Swope leaped for the ladder.  I saw consternation in his face as he scurried aloft.

So I knew that this was something he hadn’t arranged.

CHAPTER XXII

I was at Newman’s side before Captain Swope’s feet vanished from the ladder.  If he had paused to close the lazaret hatch behind him, he must surely have seen me.  But he did not pause; I heard his steps racing up the companion stairs to the poop, and his voice shouting his command:  “Watch the main deck, Mister!  Light a flare!”

I threw my arms about Newman, and babbled in his ear.  “Oh, the beast!—­it’s I—­Jack—­the devil, I heard what he said!—­come to free you!” Truth to tell, the things I had overheard unnerved me somewhat, and I was incoherent, almost, from rage and horror.

But Newman brought me to myself in short order.  “I know—­but not so loud—­they’ll hear you!” Aye, his first words, and he smiled into my face.  This man on the rack smiled, and thought clearly, whilst I babbled.  “Be quick,” he bade me.  “Cut the lashings.”

I obeyed in jig time.  The chains of both the hand and foot irons were secured to the limbers by rope lashings.  With two strokes of my knife I severed them.  Before I could catch him, Newman fell forward upon his face.  His misused limbs could not support him.

I knelt by his side, sobbing and spluttering, and fishing in my pocket for the key the lady had given me.  It was the sight of his raw, bleeding wrists and ankles that maddened me; aye, the sight of them would have maddened a saint.  You will recall that the Old Man had commanded that Newman’s wrists be tightly cuffed; and he had seen to it that the leg cuffs were equally tight.  Tight ironing was a favorite sport of Swope’s; he was notorious for it among sailormen.  I saw the results upon Newman.

The flesh above the irons was puffed and inflamed; the constriction and chafing had broken the skin, and the cuffs upon both arms and legs were buried in the raw wounds.  Exquisite agony—­aye, trust Swope to produce that!  I had to push back the swollen, bruised mass before I could insert the little flat key, and effect the release.

When I had them off, I turned Newman over on his back, and, with my arm about him, prepared to lift him erect.  Before I could do so, assistance arrived.  Light feet pattered down the lazaret ladder; there was a swish of skirts, a gasp, and the lady was on her knees by Newman’s side.  “Roy—­Roy—­I was in time—­” she cried.  Her arms went around his neck.

I released him to her for the instant, and straightened up and listened.  There was noise on deck, and confusion.  The ship was in stays; she hung there, aback.  I could hear Lynch, somewhere forward, bawling orders; and overhead, Swope sang out to the wheel, and then hailed the roundhouse.