CHAPTER XI
THE DEAR INSURED
"He isn't the 'dear deceased' yet by a very long chalk," said CaptainKettle.
"If he was," retorted Lupton with a dry smile, "my immediate interest inhim would cease, and the Company would shrug its shoulders, and pay, andlook pleasant. In the mean while he's, shall we say, 'the dear insured,'and a premium paying asset that the Company's told me off to keep aneye on."
"Do much business in your particular line?" "Why yes, recently a gooddeal. It's got to be quite a fashionable industry of late to pick upsome foolish young gentleman with expectations, insure his life for abig pile, knock him quietly on the head, and then come back home in aneat black suit to pocket the proceeds."
"Does this Mr.--" Kettle referred to the passenger list--"Hamilton's therogue's name, isn't it?"
"No, he's the flat. Cranze is the--er--his friend who stands to draw thestamps."
"Does Mr. Hamilton know you?"
"Never seen me in his life."
"Does this thief Cranze?"
"Same."
"Then, sir, I'll tell you what's your ticket," said Kettle, who had gotan eye to business. "Take a passage with me out to the Gulf and back,and keep an eye on the young gentleman yourself. You'll find it a bitcold in the Western Ocean at first, but once we get well in the GulfStream, and down toward New Orleans, I tell you you'll just enjoy life.It'll be a nice trip for you, and I'm sure I'll do my best to makethings comfortable for you."
"I'm sure you would, Captain, but it can't be done at the price."
Kettle looked thoughtfully at the passenger list. "I could promise you aroom to yourself. We're not very full up this run. In fact, Mr. Hamiltonand Mr. Cranze are the only two names I've got down so far, and I may aswell tell you we're not likely to have others. You see Birds are a verygood line, but they lay themselves out more for cargo than passengers."
"So our local agent in Liverpool found out for us already, and that'smostly why I'm here. Don't you see, Captain, if the pair of them hadstarted off to go tripping round the Mexican Gulf in one of the regularpassenger boats, there would have been nothing suspicious about that.But when they book berths by you, why then it begins to look fishyat once."
Kettle turned on his companion with a sudden viciousness. "By James!" hesnapped, "you better take care of your-words, or there'll be a man inthis smoke-room with a broken jaw. I allow no one to sling slights ateither me or my ship. No, nor at the firm either that owns both of us.You needn't look round at the young lady behind the bar. She can't hearwhat we're saying across in this corner, and if even she could she'squite welcome to know how I think about the matter. By James, do youthink you can speak to me as if I was a common railway director? I cantell you that, as Captain of a passenger boat, I've a very differentsocial position."
"My dear sir," said Lupton soothingly, "to insult you was the last thingin my mind. I quite know you've got a fine ship, and a new ship, and aship to be congratulated on. I've seen her. In fact I was on board andall over her only this morning. But what I meant to point out was(although I seem to have put it clumsily) that Messrs. Bird have chosento schedule you for the lesser frequented Gulf ports, finding, as youhint, that cargo pays them better than passengers."
"Well?"
"And naturally therefore anything that was done on the _Flamingo_ wouldnot have the same fierce light of publicity on it that would geton--say--one of the Royal Mail boats. You see they bustle about betweenbusy ports crammed with passengers who are just at their wits' end forsomething to do. You know what a pack of passengers are. Give them atopic like this: Young man with expectations suddenly knocked overboard,nobody knows by whom; 'nother young man on boat drawing a heavyinsurance from him; and they aren't long in putting two and twotogether."
"You seem to think it requires a pretty poor brain to run asteam-packet," said Kettle contemptuously. "How long would I be before Ihad that joker in irons?"
"If he did it as openly as I have said, you'd arrest him at once. Butyou must remember Cranze will have been thinking out his game forperhaps a year beforehand, till he can see absolutely no flaw in it,till he thinks, in fact, there's not the vaguest chance of being droppedon. If anything happens to Hamilton, his dear friend Cranze will be thelast man to be suspected of it. And mark you, he's a clever chap. Itisn't your clumsy, ignorant knave who turns insurance robber--andincidentally murderer."
"Still, I don't see how he'd be better off on my ship than he would beon the bigger passenger packets."
"Just because you won't have a crowd of passengers. Captain, a ship'slike a woman; any breath of scandal damages her reputation,-whether it'strue and deserved or not. And a ship-captain's like a woman's husband;he'll put up with a lot to keep any trace of scandal away from her."
"That's the holy truth."
"A skipper on one of the bigger passenger lines would be just as keen asyou could be not to have his ship mixed up with anything discreditable.But passengers are an impious lot. They are just bursting for want of ajob, most of them; they revel in anything like an accident to break themonotony; and if they can spot a bit of foul play--or say they helped tospot it--why, there they are, supplied with one good solid never-staleyarn for all the rest of their natural lives. So you see they've everyinducement to do a lot of ferreting that a ship's officers (with otherwork on hand) would not dream about."
Captain Kettle pulled thoughtfully at his neat red pointed beard."You're putting the thing in a new light, sir, and I thank you for whatyou've said. I see my course plain before me. So soon as we have droppedthe pilot, I shall go straight to this Mr. Cranze, and tell him thatfrom information received I hear he's going to put Mr. Hamilton overthe side. And then I shall say: 'Into irons you go, my man, so soon asever Hamilton's missing.'"
Lupton laughed rather angrily. "And what would be the result of that, doyou think?"
"Cranze will get mad. He'll probably talk a good deal, and that I shallallow within limits. But he'll not hit me. I'm not the kind of a manthat other people see fit to raise their hands to."
"You don't look it. But, my good sir, don't you see that if you speakout like that, you'll probably scare the beggar off his gamealtogether?"
"And why not? Do you think my ship's a blessed detective novel that's tobe run just for your amusement?"
Lupton tapped the table slowly with his fingers. "Now look here,Captain," he said, "there's a chance here of our putting a stop to amurderous game that's been going on too long, by catching a roguered-handed. It's to our interest to get a conviction and make anexample. It's to your interest to keep your ship free from a fuss."
"All the way."
"Quite so. My Company's prepared to buy your interest up."
"You must put it plainer than that."
"I'll put it as definitely as you like. I'll give you L20 to keep youreye on these men, and say nothing about what I've told you, but justwatch. If you catch Cranze so clearly trying it on that the Courts givea conviction, the Company will pay you L200."
"It's a lot of money."
"My Company will find it a lot cheaper than paying out L20,000, andthat's what Hamilton's insured for."
"Phew! I didn't know we were dealing with such big figures. Well, Mr.Cranze has got his inducements to murder the man, anyway."
"I told you that from the first. Now, Captain, are you going to take mycheck for that preliminary L20?"
"Hand it over," said Kettle. "I see no objections. And you may as wellgive me a bit of a letter about the balance."
"I'll do both," said Lupton, and took out his stylograph, and called awaiter to bring him hotel writing paper.
Now Captain Owen Kettle, once he had taken up this piece of employment,entered into it with a kind of chastened joy. The Life InsuranceCompany's agent had rather sneered at ship-captains as a class (so heconsidered), and though the man did his best to be outwardly civil, itwas plain that he considered a mob of passengers the intellectualsuperiors of any master mariner. So Kettle intended to prove himse
lf the"complete detective" out of sheer _esprit de corps_.
As he had surmised, Messrs. Hamilton and Cranze remained the_Flamingo's_ only two passengers, and so he considered he might devotefull attention to them without being remarkable. If he had been asteward making sure of his tips he could not have been more solicitousfor their welfare; and to say he watched them like a cat is putting thething feebly. Any man with an uneasy conscience must have grasped fromthe very first that the plot had been guessed at, and that this awkwardlittle skipper, with his oppressive civilities, was merely waiting hischance to act as Nemesis.
But either Mr. Cranze had an easy mind, and Lupton had unjustlymaligned him, or he was a fellow of the most brazen assurance. Herefused to take the least vestige of a warning. He came on board with adozen cases of champagne and four of liqueur brandy as a part of hispersonal luggage, and his first question to every official he cameacross was how much he would have to pay per bottle for corkage.
As he made these inquiries from a donkey-man, two deck hands, threemates, a trimmer, the third engineer, two stewards, and Captain Kettlehimself, the answers he received were various, and some of them wereprofane. He seemed to take a delight in advertising his chronicdrunkenness, and between-whiles he made a silly show of the fact that hecarried a loaded revolver in his hip pocket. "Lots fellows do't now," heexplained. "Never know who-you-may-meet. S' a mos' useful habit."
Now Captain Kettle, in his inmost heart, considered that Cranze wasnerving himself up with drink to the committal of his horrid deed, andso he took a very natural precaution. Before they had dropped the Irishcoast he had managed to borrow the revolver, unbeknown to its owner, andcarefully extracted the powder from the cartridges, replacing thebullets for the sake of appearances. And as it happened, the chiefengineer, who was a married man as well as a humorist, though workingindependently of his skipper, carried the matter still further. He, too,got hold of the weapon, and brazed up the breech-block immovably, sothat it could not be surreptitiously reloaded. He said that his wife hadinstructed him to take no chances, and that meanwhile, as a fool'spendant, the revolver was as good as ever it had been.
The revolver became the joke of the ship. Cranze kept up a steady soakon king's peg--putting in a good three fingers of the liqueur brandybefore filling up the tumbler with champagne--and was naturally inclinedto be argumentative. Any one of the ship's company who happened to benear him with a little time to spare would get up a discussion on anymatter that came to his mind, work things gently to a climax, and thencontradict Cranze flatly. Upon which, out would come the revolver, anddown would go the humorist on his knees, pitifully begging for pardonand life, to the vast amusement of the onlookers.
Pratt, the chief engineer, was the inventor of this game, but he openlyrenounced all patent rights. He said that everybody on board ought totake the stage in turn--he himself was quite content to retire on hisearly laurels. So all hands took pains to contradict Cranze and to cowerwith a fine show of dramatic fright before his spiked revolver.
All the _Flamingo's_ company except one man, that is. Frivolity of thissort in no way suited the appetite of Captain Owen Kettle. He talkedwith Cranze with a certain dry cordiality. And at times he contradictedhim. In fact the little sailor contradicted most passengers if he talkedto them for long. He was a man with strong opinions, and he regardedtolerance as mere weakness. Moreover, Cranze's chronic soaking nauseatedhim. But at the same time, if his civility was scant, Cranze neverlugged out the foolish weapon in his presence. There was a something inthe shipmaster's eye which daunted him. The utmost height to which hisresentment could reach with Captain Kettle was a folding of the arms anda scowl which was intended to be majestic, but which was frequentlyspoiled by a hiccough.
In pleasant contrast to this weak, contemptible knave was the manHamilton, his dupe and prospective victim. For him Kettle formed aliking at once, though for the first days of the voyage it was littleenough he saw of his actual presence. Hamilton was a bad sailor and alover of warmth, and as the Western Ocean was just then in one of itscold and noisy moods, this passenger went shudderingly out of the cabinwhen meals came on, and returned shudderingly from the cold on deck assoon they were over.
But when the _Flamingo_ began to make her southing, and the yellowtangles of weed floating in emerald waves bore evidence that they weresteaming against the warm current of the Gulf Stream, then Hamilton cameinto view. He found a spot on the top of the fiddley under the lee of atank where a chair could stand, and sat there in the glow of sun andboilers, and basked complacently.
He was a shy, nervous little man, and though Kettle had usually a finecontempt for all weakness, somehow his heart went out to this retiringpassenger almost at first sight. Myself, I am inclined to think it wasbecause he knew him to be hunted, knew him to be the object of amurderous conspiracy, and loathed most thoroughly the vulgar rogue whowas his treacherous enemy. But Captain Kettle scouts the idea that hewas stirred by any such feeble, womanish motives. Kettle was a poethimself, and with the kinship of species he felt the poetic fire glowingout from the person of this Mr. Hamilton. At least, so he says; and ifhe has deceived himself on the matter, which, from an outsider's pointof view, seems likely, I am sure the error is quite unconscious. Thelittle sailor may have his faults, as the index of these pages hasshown; but untruthfulness has never been set down to his tally, and I amnot going to accuse him of it now.
Still, it is a sure thing that talk on the subject of verse making didnot come at once. Kettle was immensely sensitive about hisaccomplishment, and had writhed under brutal scoffs and polishedridicule at his poetry more times than he cared to count. Withpassengers especially he kept it scrupulously in the background, even ashe did his talent for making sweet music on the accordion.
But somehow he and Hamilton, after a few days' acquaintance, seemed toglide into the subject imperceptibly. Mutual confidences followed in thecourse of nature. It seemed that Hamilton too, like Kettle, was adevotee of the stiller forms of verse.
"You see, Skipper," he said, "I've been a pretty bad lot, and I've madethings hum most of my time, and so I suppose I get my hankerings afterrestfulness as the natural result of contrast."
"Same here, sir. Ashore I can respect myself, and in our chapel circle,though I say it myself, you'll find few more respected men. But at sea Ishouldn't like to tell you what I've done; I shouldn't like to tell anyone. If a saint has to come down and skipper the brutes we have to shipas sailormen nowadays, he'd wear out his halo flinging it at them. Andwhen matters have been worst, and I've been bashing the hands about, ordoing things to carry out an owner's order that I'd blush even to thinkof ashore, why then, sir, gentle verse, to tunes I know, seems tobubble up inside me like springs in a barren land."
"Well, I don't know about that," said Hamilton doubtfully, "but when Iget thoroughly sick of myself, and wish I was dead, I sometimes staveoff putting a shot through my silly head by getting a pencil and paper,and shifting my thoughts out of the beastly world I know, into--well,it's hard to explain. But I get sort of notions, don't you see, and theyseem to run best in verse. I write 'em when the fit's on me, and I burn'em when the fit's through; and you'll hardly think it, but I never tolda living soul I ever did such a thing till I told you this minute. Myset--I mean, I couldn't bear to be laughed at. But you seem to be afellow that's been in much the same sort of box yourself."
"I don't know quite that. At any rate, I've never thought of shootingmyself."
"Oh, I didn't mean to suggest we were alike at all in detail. I was onlythinking we had both seen rough times. Lord forbid that any man shouldever be half the fool that I have been." He sighed heavily.--"However,sufficient for the day. Look out over yonder; there's a bit of colorfor you."
A shoal of flying-fish got up out of the warm, shining water and ranaway over the ripples like so many silver rats; yellow tangles ofGulf-weed swam in close squadron on the emerald sea; and on the westernhorizon screw-pile lighthouses stood up out of the water, marking thenearness of the
low-lying Floridan beaches, and reminding one ofmysterious Everglades beyond.
"A man, they tell me," said Hamilton, "can go into that country at theback there, and be a hermit, and live honestly on his own fish andfruit. I believe I'd like that life. I could go there, and be decent,and perhaps in time I should forget things."
"Don't you try it. The mosquitoes are shocking."
"There are worse devils than mosquitoes. Now I should have thought therewas something about those Everglades that would have appealed toyou, Skipper?"
"There isn't, and I've been there. You want a shot-gun in Florida toshoot callers with, not eatables. I've written verse there, and goodverse, but it was the same old tale, sir, that brought it up to myfingers' ends. I'd been having trouble just then--yes, bad trouble. No,Mr. Hamilton, you go home, sir, to England and find a country place, andget on a farm, and watch the corn growing, and hear the birds sing, andget hold of the smells of the fields, and the colors of the trees, andthen you'll enjoy life and turn out poetry you can be proud of."
"Doesn't appeal to me. You see you look upon the country with acountryman's eye."
"Me," said Kettle. "I'm seaport and sea bred and brought up, and all Iknow of fields and a farm is what I've seen from a railway-carriagewindow. No, I've had to work too hard for my living, and for a livingfor Mrs. Kettle and the youngsters, to have any time for that sort ofenjoyment; but a man can't help knowing what he wants, sir, can he? Andthat's what I'm aiming at, and it's for that I'm scratching togetherevery sixpence of money I can lay hands on."
But here a sudden outcry below broke in upon their talk. "That's Mr.Cranze," said Kettle. "He'll be going too far in one of his tantrums oneof these days."
"I'm piously hoping the drunken brute will tumble overboard," Hamiltonmuttered; "it would save a lot of trouble for everybody. Eh, well," hesaid, "I suppose I'd better go and look after him," and got up andwent below.
Captain Kettle sat where he was, musing. He had no fear that Cranze, theship's butt and drunkard, would murder his man in broad, staringdaylight, especially as, judging from the sounds, others of the ship'scompany were at present baiting him. But he did not see his way toearning that extra L200, which he would very much like to have fingered.To let this vulgar, drunken ruffian commit some overt act againstHamilton's life, without doing him actual damage, seemed animpossibility. He had taken far to great a fancy for Hamilton to allowhim to be hurt. He was beginning to be mystified by the whole thing. Thecase was by no means so simple and straightforward as it had looked whenLupton put it to him in the hotel smoking-room ashore.
Had Cranze been any other passenger, he would have stopped his drunkenriotings by taking away the drink, and by giving strict orders that theman was to be supplied with no further intoxicants. But Cranze sobermight be dangerous, while Cranze tipsy was merely a figure of ridicule;so he submitted, very much against his grain, to having his ship madeinto a bear-garden, and anxiously awaited developments.
The _Flamingo_ cleared the south of Florida, sighted the high land ofCuba, and stood across through the Yucatan channel to commence herpeddling business in Honduras, and at some twenty ports she came to ananchor six miles off shore, and hooted with her siren till lighterscame off through the surf and the shallows.
Machinery they sent ashore at these little-known stations, coal, powder,dress-goods, and pianos, receiving in return a varied assortment ofhides, mahogany, dyewoods, and some parcels of ore. There was a smallferrying business done also between neighboring ports in unclean nativepassengers, who harbored on the foredeck, and complained of want ofdeference from the crew.
Hamilton appeared to extract some melancholy pleasure from it all, andCranze remained unvaryingly drunk. Cranze passed insults to casualstrangers who came on board and did not know his little ways, and thecasual strangers (after the custom of their happy country) tried toknife him, but were always knocked over in the nick of time, by somemember of the _Flamingo's_ crew. Hamilton said there was a specialprovidence which looks after drunkards of Cranze's type, and declined tointerfere; and Cranze said he refused to be chided by a qualifiedteetotaller, and mixed himself further king's pegs.
Messrs. Bird, Bird and Co., being of an economical turn of mind, did notfall into the error of overmanning their ships, and so as one of themates chose to be knocked over by six months' old malarial fever,Captain Kettle had practically to do a mate's duty as well as his own. Amate in the mercantile marine is officially an officer and some fractionof a gentleman, but on tramp steamers and liners where cargo is of moreaccount than passengers--even when they dine at half-past six, insteadof at midday--a mate has to perform manual labors rather harder thanthat accomplished by any three regular deck hands.
I do not intend to imply that Kettle actually drove a winch, or actedas stevedore below, or sweated over bales as they swung up through ahatch, but he did work as gangway man, and serve at the tally desk, andoversee generally while the crew worked cargo; and his watch over thepassengers was at this period of necessity relaxed. He tried hard tointerest Hamilton in the mysteries of hold stowage, in order to keep himunder his immediate eye. But Hamilton bluntly confessed to loathinganything that was at all useful, and so he perforce had to be left topick his own position under the awnings, there to doze, and smokecigarettes, and scribble on paper as the moods so seized him.
It was off one of the ports in the peninsula of Yucatan, toward the Bayof Campeachy, that Cranze chose to fall overboard. The name of the placewas announced by some one when they brought up, and Cranze asked whereit was. Kettle marked it off with a leg of the dividers on the chart."Yucatan," said Cranze, "that's the ruined cities shop, isn't it?"--Heshaded his unsteady eyes, and looked out at a clump of squalid huts justshowing on the beach beyond some three miles of tumbling surf. "Gum!here's a ruined city all hot and waiting. Home of the ancient Aztecs,and colony of the Atlanteans, and all that. Skipper, I shall go ashore,and enlarge my mind."
"You can go if you like," said Kettle, "but remember, I steam away fromhere as soon as ever I get the cargo out of her, and I wait for no man.And mind not to get us upset in the surf going there. The water roundhere swarms with sharks, and I shouldn't like any of them to getindigestion."
"Seem trying to make yourself jolly ob--bub--jectiable's morning,"grumbled Cranze, and invited Hamilton to accompany him on shoreforthwith. "Let's go and see the girls. Ruined cities should have ruinedgirls and ruined pubs to give us some ruined amusement. We been on thissteamer too long, an' we want variety. V'riety's charming. Come alongand see ruined v'riety."
Hamilton shrugged his shoulders. "Drunk as usual, are you? You sillyowl, whatever ruined cities there may be, are a good fifty miles inthe bush."
"'S all you know about it. I can see handsome majestic ruin over thereon the beach, an' I'm going to see it 'out further delay. 'S a duty Iowe to myself to enlarge the mind by studying the great monuments ofthe past."
"If you go ashore, you'll be marooned as safe as houses, and Lord knowswhen the next steamer will call. The place reeks of fever, and as yourpresent state of health is distinctly rocky, you'll catch it, and bedead and out of the way inside a week easily. Look here, don't bean ass."
"Look here yourself. Are you a competent medicated practitioner?"
"Oh, go and get sober."
"Answer me. Are you competent medicated practitioner?"
"No, I'm not."
"Very well then. Don't you presume t'lecture me on state of my health.No reply, please. I don' wan' to be encumbered with your furtheracquaintance. I wish you a go' morning."
Hamilton looked at Captain Kettle under his brows. "Will you advise me,"he said, "what I ought to do."
"I should say it would be healthier for you to let him have his ownway."
"Thanks," said Hamilton, and turned away. "I'll act on that advice."
Now the next few movements of Mr. Cranze are wrapped in a certain degreeof mystery. He worried a very busy third mate, and got tripped on thehard deck for his pains; he was ejected forcib
ly from the engineers'mess-room, where it was supposed he had designs on the whisky; and hewas rescued by the carpenter from an irate half-breed Mosquito Indian,who seemed to have reasons for desiring his blood there and then on thespot. But how else he passed the time, and as to how he got over theside and into the water, there is no evidence to show.
There were theories that he had been put there by violence as a just actof retribution; there was an idea that he was trying to get into alighter which lay alongside for a cast ashore, but saw two lighters, andgot into the one which didn't exist; and there were other theories also,but they were mostly frivolous. But the very undoubted fact remainedthat he was there in the water, that there was an ugly sea running, thathe couldn't swim, and that the place bristled with sharks.
A couple of lifebuoys, one after the other, hit him accurately on thehead, and the lighter cast off, and backed down to try and pick him up.He did not bring his head on to the surface again, but stuck up anoccasional hand, and grasped with it frantically. And, meanwhile, therewas great industry among the black triangular dorsal fins thatadvertised the movements of the sharks which owned them underneath thesurface. Nobody on board the _Flamingo_ had any particular love forCranze, but all hands crowded to the rail and shivered and felt sick atthe thought of seeing him gobbled up.
Then out of the middle of these spectators jumped the mild, delicateHamilton, with a volley of bad language at his own foolishness, and liton a nice sleek wave-crest, feet first in an explosion of spray. Awayscurried the converging sharks' fins, and down shot Hamilton outof sight.
What followed came quickly. Kettle, with a tremendous flying leap,landed somehow on the deck of the lighter, with bones unbroken. He casta bowline on to the end of the main sheet, and, watching his chance,hove the bight of it cleverly into Hamilton's grasp, and as Hamilton hadcome up with Cranze frenziedly clutching him round the neck, Kettle wasable to draw his catch toward the lighter's side without further delay.
By this time the men who had gone below for that purpose had returnedwith a good supply of coal, and a heavy fusillade of the black lumpskept the sharks at a distance, at any rate for the moment. Kettle heavedin smartly, and eager hands gripped the pair as they swirled upalongside, and there they were on the lighter's deck, spitting,dripping, and gasping. But here came an unexpected developement. As soonas he had got back his wind, the mild Hamilton turned on his fellowpassenger like a very fury, hitting, kicking, swearing, and almostgnashing with his teeth; and Cranze, stricken to a sudden soberness byhis ducking, collected himself after the first surprise, and returnedthe blows with a murderous interest.
OUT OF THE MIDDLE OF THESE SPECTATORS JUMPED THE MILD,DELICATE HAMILTON.]
But one of the mates, who had followed his captain down on to thelighter to bear a hand, took a quick method of stopping the scuffle. Hepicked up a cargo-sling, slipped it round Cranze's waist, hooked on thewinch chain, and passed the word to the deck above. Somebody alive tothe jest turned on steam, and of a sudden Cranze was plucked aloft, andhung there under the derrick-sheave, struggling impotently, like someinsane jumping-jack.
Amid the yells of laughter which followed, Hamilton laughed also, butrather hysterically. Kettle put a hand kindly on his wet shoulder. "Comeon board again," he said. "If you lie down in your room for an hour orso, you'll be all right again then. You're a bit over-done. I shouldn'tlike you to make a fool of yourself."
"Make a fool of myself," was the bitter reply. "I've made a bigger foolof myself in the last three minutes than any other man could manage in alifetime."
"I'll get you the Royal Humane Society's medal for that bit of a job,anyway."
"Give me a nice rope to hang myself with," said Hamilton ungraciously,"that would be more to the point. Here, for the Lord's sake let me be,or I shall go mad." He brushed aside all help, clambered up thesteamer's high black side again, and went down to his room.
"That's the worst of these poetic natures," Kettle mused as he, too, gotout of the lighter; "they're so highly strung."
Cranze, on being lowered down to deck again, and finding his tormentorstoo many to be retaliated upon, went below and changed, and then came upagain and found solace in more king's pegs. He was not speciallythankful to Hamilton for saving his life; said, in fact, that it washis plain duty to render such trifling assistance; and further statedthat if Hamilton found his way over the side, he, Cranze, would not stira finger to pull him back again.
He was very much annoyed at what he termed Hamilton's "unwarrantableattack," and still further annoyed at his journey up to the derrick'ssheave in the cargo-sling, which he also laid to Hamilton's door. Whenany of the ship's company had a minute or so to spare, they came andgave Cranze good advice and spoke to him of his own unlovableness, andCranze hurled brimstone back at them unceasingly, for king's peg inquantity always helped his vocabulary of swear-words.
Meanwhile the _Flamingo_ steamed up and dropped cargo wherever it wasconsigned, and she abased herself to gather fresh cargo wherever anycargo offered. It was Captain Kettle who did the abasing, and he did notlike the job at all; but he remembered that Birds paid him specificallyfor this among other things; and also that if he did not secure thecargo, some one else would steam along, and eat dirt, and snap it up;and so he pocketed his pride (and his commission) and did his duty. Hecalled to mind that he was not the only man in the world who earned aliving out of uncongenial employment. The creed of the South Shieldschapel made a point of this: it preached that to every man, according tohis strength, is the cross dealt out which he has to bear. And CaptainOwen Kettle could not help being conscious of his own vast lustiness.
But one morning, before the _Flamingo_ had finished with her calls onthe ports of the Texan rivers, a matter happened on board of her whichstirred the pulse of her being to a very different gait. The steward whobrought Captain Kettle's early coffee coughed, and evidently wanted aninvitation to speak.
"Well?' said Kettle.
"It's about Mr. Hamilton, sir. I can't find 'im anywheres."
"Have you searched the ship?"
"Hunofficially, sir."
"Well, get the other two stewards, and do it thoroughly."
The steward went out, and Captain Kettle lifted the coffee cup and dranka salutation to the dead. From that very moment he had a certainforeboding that the worst had happened. "Here's luck, my lad, whereveryou now may be. That brute Cranze has got to windward of the pair of us,and your insurance money's due this minute. I only sent that steward tosearch the ship for form's sake. There was the link of poetry betweenyou and me, lad; and that's closer than most people could guess at; andI know, as sure as if your ghost stood here to tell me, that you'vegone. How, I've got to find out."
He put down the cup, and went to the bathroom for his morning's tub."I'm to blame, I know," he mused on, "for not taking better care of you,and I'm not trying to excuse myself. You were so brimful of poetry thatyou hadn't room left for any thought of your own skin, like a chap suchas I am is bound to have. Besides, you've been well-off all your timeand you haven't learned to be suspicious. Well, what's done's done, andit can't be helped. But, my lad, I want you to look on while I hand inthe bill. It'll do you good to see Cranze pay up the account."
Kettle went through his careful toilet, and then in his spruce whitedrill went out and walked briskly up and down the hurricane deck tillthe steward came with the report. His forebodings had not led himastray. Hamilton was not on board: the certain alternative was that helay somewhere in the warm Gulf water astern, as a helpless dead body.
"Tell the Chief Officer," he said, "to get a pair of irons out of storeand bring them down to Mr. Cranze's room. I'm going there now."
He found Cranze doctoring a very painful head with the early applicationof stimulant, and Cranze asked him what the devil he meant by notknocking at the door before opening it.
Captain Kettle whipped the tumbler out of the passenger's shakingfingers, and emptied its contents into the wash-basin.
"I'm going to see yo
u hanged shortly, you drunken beast," he said, "butin the mean while you may as well get sober for a change, and explainthings up a bit."
Cranze swung his legs out of the bunk and sat up. He was feeling verytottery, and the painfulness of his head did not improve his temper."Look here," he said, "I've had enough of your airs and graces. I'vepaid for my passage on this rubbishy old water-pusher of yours, and I'lltrouble you to keep a civil tongue in your head, or I'll report you toyour owners. You are like a railway guard, my man. After you have seenthat your passengers have got their proper tickets, it's your duty to--"
Mr. Cranze's connective remarks broke off here for the time being. Hefound himself suddenly plucked away from the bunk by a pair of ironhands, and hustled out through the state-room door. He was a tall man,and the hands thrust him from below, upward, and, though he struggledwildly and madly, all his efforts to have his own way were futile.Captain Owen Kettle had handled far too many really strong men in thisfashion to even lose breath over a dram-drinking passenger. So Cranzefound himself hurtled out on to the lower fore-deck, where somebodyhandcuffed him neatly to an iron stanchion, and presently a mariner, byCaptain Kettle's orders, rigged a hose, and mounted on the iron bulwarkabove him, and let a three-inch stream of chilly brine slop steadily onto his head.
The situation, from an onlooker's point of view, was probably ludicrousenough, but what daunted the patient was that nobody seemed to take itas a joke. There were a dozen men of the crew who had drawn near towatch, and yesterday all these would have laughed contemptuously at eachof his contortions. But now they are all stricken to a sudden solemnity.
"Spell-o," ordered Kettle. "Let's see if he's sober yet."
The man on the bulwarks let the stream from the hose flop overboard,where it ran out into a stream of bubbles which joined the wake.
Cranze gasped back his breath, and used it in a torrent of curses.
"Play on him again," said Kettle, and selected a good blackbefore-breakfast cigar from his pocket. He lit it with care. The man onthe bulwark shifted his shoulder for a better hold against thederrick-guy, and swung the limp hose in-board again. The water splasheddown heavily on Cranze's head and shoulders, and the onlookers tookstock of him without a trace of emotion. They had most of them seen theremedy applied to inebriates before, and so they watched Cranze make hisgradual recovery with the eyes of experts.
"Spell-o," ordered Kettle some five minutes later, and once more thehose vomited sea water ungracefully into the sea. This time Cranze hadthe sense to hold his tongue till he was spoken to. He was very whiteabout the face, except for his nose, which was red, and his eye hadbrightened up considerably. He was quite sober, and quite able to weighany words that were dealt out to him.
"Now," said Kettle judicially, "what have you done with Mr. Hamilton?"
"Nothing."
"You deny all knowledge of how he got overboard?"
Cranze was visibly startled. "Of course I do. Is he overboard?"
"He can't be found on this ship. Therefore he is over the side.Therefore you put him there."
Cranze was still more startled. But he kept himself in hand. "Lookhere," he said, "what rot! What should I know about the fellow? Ihaven't seen him since last night."
"So you say. But I don't see why I should believe you. In fact, Idon't."
"Well, you can suit yourself about that, but it's true enough. Why inthe name of mischief should I want to meddle with the poor beggar? Ifyou're thinking of the bit of a scrap we had yesterday, I'll own I wasfull at the time. And so must he have been. At least I don't know whyelse he should have set upon me like he did. At any rate that's not athing a man would want to murder him for."
"No, I should say L20,000 is more in your line."
"What are you driving at?"
"You know quite well. You got that poor fellow insured just before thistrip, you got him to make a will in your favor, and now you've committeda dirty, clumsy murder just to finger the dollars."
Cranze broke into uncanny hysterical laughter. "That chap insured; thatchap make a will in my favor? Why, he hadn't a penny. It was me thatpaid for his passage. I'd been on the tear a bit, and the Jew fellow Iwent to about raising the wind did say something about insuring, I know,and made me sign a lot of law papers. They made out I was in such achippy state of health that they'd not let me have any more money unlessI came on some beastly dull sea voyage to recruit a bit, and one of theconditions was that one of the boys was to come along too and lookafter me."
"You'll look pretty foolish when you tell that thin tale to a jury."
"Then let me put something else on to the back of it. I'm not Cranze atall. I'm Hamilton. I've been in the papers a good deal just recently,because I'd been flinging my money around, and I didn't want to getstared at on board here. So Cranze and I swapped names, just to confusepeople. It seems to have worked very well."
"Yes," said Kettle, "it's worked so well that I don't think you'll get ajury to believe that either. As you don't seem inclined to make a cleanbreast of it, you can now retire to your room, and be restored to yourpersonal comforts. I can't hand you over to the police withoutinconvenience to myself till we get to New Orleans, so I shall keep youin irons till we reach there. Steward--where's a steward? Ah, here youare. See this man is kept in his room, and see he has no more liquor. Imake you responsible for him."
"Yes, sir," said the steward.
Continuously the dividends of Bird, Bird and Co. outweighed every otherconsideration, and the _Flamingo_ dodged on with her halting voyage. Atthe first place he put in at, Kettle sent off an extravagant cablegramof recent happenings to the representative of the Insurance Company inEngland. It was not the cotton season, and the Texan ports yielded thesteamer little, but she had a ton or so of cargo for almost every one ofthem, and she delivered it with neatness, and clamored for cargo inreturn. She was "working up a connection." She swung round the Gulf tillshe came to where logs borne by the Mississippi stick out from the whitesand, and she wasted a little time, and steamed past the nearest outletof the delta, because Captain Kettle did not personally know itspilotage. He was getting a very safe and cautious navigator in theselatter days of his prosperity.
So she made for the Port Eads pass, picked up a pilot from the stationby the lighthouse, and steamed cautiously up to the quarantine station,dodging the sandbars. Her one remaining passenger had passed from anactive nuisance to a close and unheard prisoner, and his presence wasalmost forgotten by every one on board, except Kettle and the stewardwho looked after him. The merchant seaman of these latter days has topay such a strict attention to business, that he has no time whateverfor extraneous musings.
The _Flamingo_ got a clean bill from the doctor at the quarantinestation, and emerged triumphantly from the cluster of craft doingpenance, and, with a fresh pilot, steamed on up the yellow river, pastthe white sugar-mills, and the heavy cypresses behind the banks. And indue time the pilot brought her up to New Orleans, and, with his glasseson the bridge, Kettle saw his acquaintance, Mr. Lupton, waiting for himon the levee.
He got his steamer berthed in the crowded tier, and Mr. Lupton pushed onboard over the first gang-plank. But Kettle waved the man aside till hesaw his vessel finally moored. And then he took him into the chart-houseand shut the door.
"You seem to have got my cable," he said. "It was a very expensive one,but I thought the occasion needed it."
His visitor tapped Kettle confidentially on the knee. "You'll find myoffice will deal most liberally with you, Captain. But I can tell youI'm pretty excited to hear your full yarn."
"I'm afraid you won't like it," said Kettle. "The man's obviously dead,and, fancy it or not, I don't see how your office can avoid paying thefull amount. However, here's the way I've logged it down"--and he wentoff into detailed narration.
The New Orleans heat smote upon the chart-house roof, and the airoutside clattered with the talk of negroes. Already hatches were off,and the winch chains sang as they struck out cargo, and from the leveealongside,
and from New Orleans below and beyond, came tangles of smellswhich are peculiarly their own. A steward brought in tea, and it stoodon the chart-table untasted, and at last Kettle finished, and Luptonput a question.
"It's easy to tell," he said, "if they did swap names. What was the manthat went overboard like?"
"Little dark fellow, short sighted. He was a poet, too."
"That's not Hamilton, anyway, but it might be Cranze. Is your prisonertall?"
"Tall and puffy. Red-haired and a spotty face."
"That's Hamilton, all the way. By Jove! Skipper, we've saved our bacon.His yarn's quite true. They did change names. Hamilton's a rich youngass that's been painting England red these last three years."
"But, tell me, what did the little chap go overboard for?"
"Got there himself. Uneasy conscience, I suppose. He seems to have beena poor sort of assassin anyway. Why, when that drunken fool tumbledoverboard amongst the sharks, he didn't leave him to be eaten ordrowned, is more than I can understand. He'd have got his money as easyas picking it up off the floor, if he'd only had the sense tokeep quiet."
"If you ask me," said Kettle, "it was sheer nobility of character. I hada good deal of talk with that young gentleman, sir. He was a splendidfellow. He had a true poetical soul."
Mr. Lupton winked sceptically. "He managed to play the part of athorough-paced young blackguard at home pretty successfully. He waswarned off the turf. He was kicked out of his club for card-sharping. Hewas--well, he's dead now, anyway, and we won't say any more about him,except that he's been stone-broke these last three years, and has beenliving on his wits and helping to fleece other flats. But he was onlythe tool, anyway. There is a bigger and more capable scoundrel at theback of it all, and, thanks to the scare you seem to have rubbed intothat spotty-faced young mug you've got locked up down below, I think wecan get the principal by the heels very nicely this journey. If youdon't mind, I'll go and see this latest victim now, before he's had timeto get rid of his fright."
Captain Kettle showed his visitor courteously down to the temporaryjail, and then returned to the chart-house and sipped his tea.
"His name may really have been Cranze, but he was a poet, poor lad," hemused, thinking of the dead. "That's why he couldn't do the dirty work.But I sha'n't tell Lupton that reason. He'd only laugh--and--that poetryought to be a bit of a secret between the lad and me. Poor, poor fellow!I think I'll be able to write a few lines about him myself after I'vebeen ashore to see the agent, just as a bit of an epitaph. As to thisspotty-faced waster who swapped names with him, I almost have it in meto wish we'd left him to be chopped by those sharks. He'd his money tohis credit anyway--and what's money compared with poetry?"