CHAPTER L
A HARBOUR TRAGEDY
The voyage of the _Calipha_ came to its usual termination about teno'clock on the following morning, when she passed Boston lights andsteamed slowly down the smooth waters of the harbour. The sevenpassengers were all upon deck in wonderfully transformed guise. Alreadythe steamer chairs were being tied up and piled away; the stewards,officiously anxious to render some last service, were hovering around.Mrs. Watson, in a plain tailor gown and quiet felt hat, was sittingheavily veiled apart and alone. There were no signs of either Mr. Watsonor Mr. Sabin. The captain was on the bridge talking to the pilot.Scarcely a hundred yards away lay the _Kaiser Wilhelm_, white andstately, with her brass work shining like gold in the sunlight, and herdecks as white as snow.
The _Calipha_ was almost at a standstill, awaiting the doctor's brig,which was coming up to her on the port side. Every one was leaning overthe railing watching her. Mr. Watson and Mr. Sabin, who had just come upthe gangway together, turned away towards the deserted side of the boat,engaged apparently in serious conversation. Suddenly every one on deckstarted. A revolver shot, followed by two heavy splashes in the water,rang out clear and crisp above the clanking of chains and slighternoises. There was a moment's startled silence--every one looked at oneanother--then a rush for the starboard side of the steamer. Above thelittle torrent of minor exclamations, the captain's voice sang out likethunder.
"Lower the number one boat. Quartermaster, man a crew."
The seven passengers, two stewards, and a stray seaman arrived on thestarboard side of the gangway at about the same moment. There was atfirst very little to be seen. A faint cloud of blue smoke was curlingupwards, and there was a strong odour of gunpowder in the air. On thedeck were lying a small, recently-discharged revolver and a man's whitelinen cap, which, from its somewhat peculiar shape, every one recognisedat once as belonging to Mr. Sabin. At first sight, there was absolutelynothing else to be seen. Then, suddenly, some one pointed to a man'shead about fifty yards away in the water. Every one crowded to the sideto look at it. It was hard at that distance to distinguish the features,but a little murmur arose, doubtful at first, but gaining confidence. Itwas the head of Mr. Watson. The murmur rather grew than increased whenit was seen that he was swimming, not towards the steamer, but away fromit, and that he was alone. Where was Mr. Sabin?
A slight cry from behind diverted attention for a moment from thebobbing head. Mrs. Watson, who had heard the murmurs, was lying in adead faint across a chair. One of the women moved to her side. Theothers resumed their watch upon events.
A boat was already lowered. Acting upon instructions from the captain,the crew combined a search for the missing man with a leisurely pursuitof the fugitive one. The first lieutenant stood up in the gunwale with ahook in his hand, looking from right to left, and the men pulled withslow, even strokes. But nowhere was there any sign of Mr. Sabin.
The man who was swimming was now almost out of sight, and the firstlieutenant, who was in command of the little search party, reluctantlygave orders for the quickening of his men's stroke. But almost as themen bent to their work, a curious thing happened. The fugitive, who hadbeen swimming at a great pace, suddenly threw up his arms anddisappeared.
"He's done, by Jove!" exclaimed the lieutenant. "Row hard, you chaps. Wemust catch him when he rises."
But to all appearance, Mr. J. B. Watson, of New York, never rose again.The boat was rowed time after time around the spot where he had sunk,but not a trace was to be found of him. The only vessel anywhere nearwas the _Kaiser Wilhelm_. They rowed slowly up and hailed her.
An officer came to the railing and answered their inquiries in execrableEnglish. No, they had not seen any one in the water. They had not pickedany one up. Yes, if Herr Lieutenant pleased, he could come on board, butto make a search--no, without authority. No, it was impossible that anyone could have been taken on board without his knowledge. He pointeddown the steep sides of the steamship and shrugged his shoulders. It wasindeed an impossible feat. The lieutenant of the _Calipha_ saluted andgave the order to his men to backwater. Once more they went over theground carefully. There was no sign of either of the men. After aboutthree-quarters of an hour's absence, they reluctantly gave up the searchand returned to the _Calipha_.
The first lieutenant was compelled to report both men drowned. Thecaptain was in earnest conversation with an official in plain darklivery. The boat of the harbour police was already waiting below. Thewhole particulars of the affair were scanty enough. Mr. Sabin and Mr.Watson were seen to emerge from the gangway together, engaged inanimated conversation. They had at first turned to the left, but seeingthe main body of the passengers assembled there, had stepped back againand emerged on the starboard side which was quite deserted. After then,no one except the captain had even a momentary glimpse of them, and hiswas so brief that it could scarcely be called more than an impression.He had been attracted by a slight cry, he believed from Mr. Sabin, andhad seen both men struggling together in the act of disappearing in thewater. He had seen none of the details of the fight; he could not evensay whether Mr. Sabin or Mr. Watson had been the aggressor, although onthat subject there was only one opinion. Mrs. Watson was absolutelyovercome, and unable to answer any questions, but as regards the finalquarrel and struggle between the two men, it was impossible for her tohave seen anything of it, as she was sitting in a steamer chair on theopposite side of the boat. There was at present absolutely no furtherlight to be thrown upon the affair. The sergeant of police signalled forhis boat and went off to make his report. The _Calipha_ at half-speedsteamed slowly for the dock.
Arrived there her passengers, crew and officers became the natural andrecognised prey of the American press-man. The captain sternly refusedto answer a single question, and in peremptory fashion ordered everystranger off his ship. But nevertheless his edict was avoided in theconfusion of landing, and the Customs House effectually barred flight onthe part of their victims. Somehow or other, no one exactly knew how orfrom what source they came, strange rumours began to float about. Whowas Mr. J. B. Watson of New York, yacht owner and millionaire? No onehad ever heard of him, and he did not answer in the least to thedescription of any known Watson. The closely veiled features of hiswidow were eagerly scanned--one by one the newspaper men confessedthemselves baffled. No one had ever seen her before. One man, the mostdaring of them, ventured upon a timid question as she stepped down thegangway. She passed him by with a swift look of contempt. None of theothers ventured anything of the sort--but, nevertheless, they watchedher, and they made note of two things. The first was that there was noone to meet her--the second that instead of driving to a railway depot,or wiring to any friends, she went straight to an hotel and engaged aroom for the night.
The press-men took counsel together, and agreed that it was very odd.They thought it odder still when one of their number, calling at thehotel later in the day, was informed that Mrs. Watson, after engaging aroom for the week, had suddenly changed her mind, and had left Bostonwithout giving any one any idea as to her destination. They took counseltogether, and they found fresh food for sensation in her flight. She wasthe only person who could throw any light upon the relations between thetwo men, and she had thought fit to virtually efface herself. They madethe most of her disappearance in the thick black head-lines which headedevery column in the Boston evening papers.