CHAPTER XII
THE FIRST MATE TALKS
Williams came up on deck late that afternoon, with a scared face, andannounced that Mr. Turner had locked himself in his cabin, and wasraving in delirium on the other side of the door. I sent Burns downhaving decided, in view of Mrs. Johns's accusation, to keep away fromthe living quarters of the family. Burns's report corroborated whatWilliams had said. Turner was in the grip of delirium tremens, and theElla was without owner or officers.
Turner refused to open either door for us. As well as we could makeout, he was moving rapidly but almost noiselessly up and down the room,muttering to himself, now and then throwing himself on the bed, only toget up at once. He rang his bell a dozen times, and summoned Williams,only, in reply to the butler's palpitating knock, to stand beyond thedoor and refuse to open it or to voice any request. The situationbecame so urgent that finally I was forced to go down, with no bettersuccess.
Mrs. Turner dragged herself across, on the state of affairs beingreported to her, and, after two or three abortive attempts, succeededin getting a reply from him.
"Marsh!" she called. "I want to talk to you. Let me in."
"They'll get us," he said craftily.
"Us? Who is with you?"
"Vail," he replied promptly. "He's here talking. He won't let mesleep."
"Tell him to give you the key and you will keep it for him so no onecan get him," I prompted. I had had some experience with such cases inthe hospital.
She tried it without any particular hope, but it succeeded immediately.He pushed the key out under the door, and almost at once we heard himthrow himself on the bed, as if satisfied that the problem of hissecurity was solved.
Mrs. Turner held the key out to me, but I would not take it.
"Give it to Williams," I said. "You must understand, Mrs. Turner, thatI cannot take it."
She was a woman of few words, and after a glance at my determined faceshe turned to the butler.
"You will have to look after Mr. Turner, Williams. See that he iscomfortable, and try to keep him in bed."
Williams put out a trembling hand, but, before he took the key,Turner's voice rose petulantly on the other side of the door.
"For God's sake, Wilmer," he cried plaintively, "get out and let mesleep I haven't slept for a month."
Williams gave a whoop of fear, and ran out of the cabin, crying thatthe ship was haunted and that Vail had come back. From that moment, Ibelieve, the after house was the safest spot on the ship. To myknowledge, no member of the crew so much as passed it on the starboardside, where Vail's and Turner's cabins were situated. It was the onegood turn the owner of the Ella did us on that hideous return journey;for, during most of the sixteen days that it took us to get back, helay in his cabin, alternating the wild frenzy of delirium tremens withquieter moments when he glared at us with crafty, murderous eyes, andpicked incessantly at the bandages that tied him down. Not an instantdid he sleep, that we could discover; and always, day or night, Vailwas with him, and they were quarreling. The four women took care of himas best they could. For a time they gave him the bromides I prepared,taking my medical knowledge without question. In the horror of thesituation, curiosity had no place, and class distinctions wereforgotten. That great leveler, a common trouble, put Henrietta Sloane,the stewardess, and the women of the party at the same table in theafter house, where none ate, and placed the responsibility for theship, although, I was nominally in command, on the shoulders of all themen. And there sprang up among them a sort of esprit de corps, curiousunder the circumstances, and partly explained, perhaps, by the beliefthat in imprisoning Singleton they had the murderer safely in hand.What they thought of Turner's possible connection with the crime, I donot know.
Personally, I was convinced that Turner was guilty. Perhaps, lulledinto a false security by the incarceration of the two men, weunconsciously relaxed our vigilance. But by the first night the crewwere somewhat calmer. Here and there a pipe was lighted, and a plug oftobacco went the rounds. The forecastle supper, served on deck, waseaten; and Charlie Jones, securing a permission that I thought it bestto grant, went forward and painted a large black cross on the side ofthe jolly-boat, and below it the date, August 13, 1911. The crewwatched in respectful silence.
The weather was in our favor, the wind on our quarter, a blue skyheaped with white cloud masses, with the sunset fringed with thedeepest rose. The Ella made no great way, but sailed easily. Burnsand I alternated at the forward companionway, and, although the menwere divided into watches, the entire crew was on duty virtually allthe time.
I find, on consulting the book in which I recorded, beginning with thatday, the incidents of the return voyage, that two things happened thatevening. One was my interview with Singleton; the other was my curiousand depressing clash with Elsa Lee, on the deck that night.
Turner being quiet and Burns on watch at the beginning of the seconddog watch, six o'clock, I went forward to the room where Singleton wasimprisoned. Burns gave me the key, and advised me to take a weapon. Idid not, however, nor was it needed.
The first mate was sitting on the edge of his bunk, in his attitude ofthe morning, his head in his hands. As I entered, he looked up andnodded. His color was still bad; he looked ill and nervous, as mighthave been expected after his condition the night before.
"For God's sake, Leslie," he said, "tell them to open the window. I'mchoking!"
He was right: the room was stifling. I opened the door behind me, andstood in the doorway, against a rush for freedom. But he did not move.He sank back into his dejected attitude.
"Will you eat some soup, if I send it?"
He shook his head.
"Is there anything you care for?"
"Better let me starve; I'm gone, anyhow."
"Singleton," I said, "I wish you would tell me about last night. If youdid it, we've got you. If you didn't, you'd better let me take yourown account of what happened, while it's fresh in your mind. Or,better still, write it yourself."
He held out his right hand. I saw that it was shaking violently.
"Couldn't hold a pen," he said tersely. "Wouldn't be believed, anyhow."
The air being somewhat better, I closed and locked the door again, and,coming in, took out my notebook and pencil. He watched me craftily."You can write it," he said, "if you'll give it to me to keep. I'm notgoing to put the rope around my own neck. If it's all right, mylawyers will use it. If it isn't--" He shrugged his shoulders.
I had never liked the man, and his tacit acknowledgment that he mightincriminate himself made me eye him with shuddering distaste. But Itook down his story, and reproduce it here, minus the technicalitiesand profanity with which it was interlarded.
Briefly, Singleton's watch began at midnight. The captain, who hadbeen complaining of lumbago, had had the cook prepare him a mustardpoultice, and had retired early. Burns was on watch from eight totwelve, and, on coming into the forward house at a quarter after eleveno'clock to eat his night lunch, reported to Singleton that the captainwas in bed and that Mr. Turner had been asking for him. Singleton,therefore, took his cap and went on deck. This was about twentyminutes after eleven. He had had a drink or two earlier in theevening, and he took another in his cabin when he got his cap.
He found Turner in the chart-house, playing solitaire and drinking. Hewas alone, and he asked Singleton to join him. The first mate lookedat his watch and accepted the invitation, but decided to look aroundthe forward house to be sure the captain was asleep. He went on deck.He could hear Burns and the lookout talking. The forward house wasdark. He listened outside the captain's door, and heard him breathingheavily, as if asleep. He stood there for a moment. He had an uneasyfeeling that some one was watching him. He thought of Schwartz, andwas uncomfortable. He did not feel the whiskey at all.
He struck a light and looked around. There was no one in sight. Hecould hear Charlie Jones in the forecastle drumming on his banjo, andBurns whistling the
same tune as he went aft to strike the bell. (Itwas the duty of the officer on watch to strike the hour.) It was thenhalf after eleven. As he passed the captain's door again, his footstruck something, and it fell to the floor. He was afraid the captainhad been roused, and stood still until he heard him breathing regularlyagain. Then he stooped down. His foot had struck an axe uprightagainst the captain's door, and had knocked it down.
The axe belonged on the outer wall of the forward house. It was a rulethat it must not be removed from its place except in emergency, and thefirst mate carried it out and leaned it against the forward port cornerof the after house when he went below. Later, on his watch, he carriedit forward and put it where it belonged.
He found Turner waiting on deck, and together they descended to thechart-room. He was none too clear as to what followed. They dranktogether. Vail tried to get Turner to bed, and failed. He believedthat Burns had called the captain. The captain had ordered him to thedeck, and there had been a furious quarrel. He felt ill by that time,and, when he went on watch at midnight, Burns was uncertain aboutleaving him. He was not intoxicated, he maintained, until afterhalf-past one. He was able to strike the bell without difficulty, andspoke, each time he went aft, to Charlie Jones, who was at the wheel.
After that, however, he suddenly felt strange. He thought he had beendoped, and told the helmsman so. He asked Jones to strike the bell forhim, and, going up on the forecastle head, lay down on the boards andfell asleep. He did not waken until he heard six bells struck--threeo'clock. And, before he had fully roused, I had called him.
"Then," I said, "when the lookout saw you with the axe, you werereplacing it?"
"Yes."
"The lookout says you were not on deck between two and three o'clock."
"How does he know? I was asleep."
"You had threatened to get the captain."
"I had a revolver; I didn't need to use an axe."
Much as I disliked the man, I was inclined to believe his story,although I thought he was keeping something back. I leaned forward.
"Singleton," I said, "if you didn't do it, and I want to think you didnot,--who did?"
He shrugged his shoulders.
"We have women aboard. We ought to know what precautions to take."
"I wasn't the only man on deck that night. Burns was about, and he hada quarrel with the Hansen woman. Jones was at the wheel, too. Whydon't you lock up Jones?"
"We are all under suspicion," I admitted. "But you had threatened thecaptain."
"I never threatened the girl, or Mr. Vail."
I had no answer to this, and we both fell silent. Singleton was thefirst to speak:--
"How are you going to get back? The men can sail a course, but who isto lay it out? Turner? No Turner ever knew anything about a ship butwhat it made for him."
"Turner is sick. Look here, Singleton, you want to get back as much aswe do, or more. Wouldn't you be willing to lay a course, if you weretaken out once a day? Burns is doing it, but he doesn't pretend toknow much about it, and--we have the bodies."
But he turned ugly again, and refused to help unless he was given hisfreedom, and that I knew the crew would not agree to.
"You'll be sick enough before you get back!" he snarled.