CHAPTER XVI
JONES STUMBLES OVER SOMETHING
I find, from my journal, that the next seven days passed without markedincident. Several times during that period we sighted vessels, alloutward bound, and once we were within communicating distance of asteam cargo boat on her way to Venezuela. She lay to and sent herfirst mate over to see what could be done.
He was a slim little man with dark eyes and a small mustache above acheerful mouth. He listened in silence to my story, and shuddered whenI showed him the jolly-boat. But we were only a few days out by thattime, and, after all, what could they do? He offered to spare us ahand, if it could be arranged; but, Adams having recovered by thattime, we decided to get along as we were. A strange sight we must havepresented to the tidy little officer in his uniform and black tie: ahaggard, unshaven lot of men, none too clean, all suffering from strainand lack of sleep, with nerves ready to snap; a white yacht,motionless, her sails drooping,--for not a breath of air moved,--withunpolished brasses and dirty decks; in charge of all, a tall youth,unshaven like the rest, and gaunt from sickness, who hardly knew anautical phrase, who shook the little officer's hand with a ferocity ofwelcome that made him change color, and whose uniform consisted of apair of dirty khaki trousers and a khaki shirt, open at the neck; andbehind us, wallowing in the trough of the sea as the Ella lay to, thejolly-boat, so miscalled, with its sinister cargo.
The Buenos Aires went on, leaving us a bit cheered, perhaps, but nonethe better off, except that she verified our bearings. The after househad taken no notice of the incident. None of the women had appeared,nor did they make any inquiry of the cook when he carried down theirdinner that night. As entirely as possible, during the week that hadpassed, they had kept to themselves. Turner was better, I imagined;but, the few times when Elsa Lee appeared at the companion for a breathof air, I was off duty and missed her. I thought it was by design, andI was desperate for a sight of her.
Mrs. Johns came on deck once or twice while I was there, but she choseto ignore me. The stewardess, however, was not so partisan, and, theday before we met the Buenos Aires, she spent a little time on deck,leaning against the rail and watching me with alert black eyes.
"What are you going to do when you get to land, Mr. Captain Leslie?"she asked. "Are you going to put us all in prison?"
"That's as may be," I evaded. She was a pretty little woman, plump anddark, and she slid her hand along the rail until it touched mine.Whereon, I did the thing she was expecting, and put my fingers overhers. She flushed a little, and dimpled.
"You are human, aren't you?" she asked archly. "I am not afraid ofyou."
"No one is, I am sure."
"Silly! Why, they are all afraid of you, down there." She jerked herhead toward the after house. "They want to offer you something, butnone of them will do it."
"Offer me something?"
She came a little closer, so that her round shoulder touched mine.
"Why not? You need money, I take it. And that's the one thing theyhave--money."
I began to understand her.
"I see," I said slowly. "They want to bribe me."
She shrugged her shoulders.
"That is a nasty word. They might wish to buy--a key or two that youcarry."
"The storeroom key, of course. But what other?"
She looked around--we were alone. A light breeze filled the sails andflicked the end of a scarf she wore against my face.
"The key to the captain's cabin," she said, very low.
That was what they wished to buy: the incriminating key to thestoreroom, found on Turner's floor, and access to the axe, with itstelltale prints on the handle.
The stewardess saw my face harden, and put her hand on my arm.
"Now I am afraid of you!" she cried: "When you look like that!"
"Mrs. Sloane," I said, "I do not know that you were asked to do this--Ithink not. But if you were, say for me what I am willing to say formyself: I shall tell what I know, and there is not money enough in theworld to prevent my telling it straight. The right man is going to bepunished, and the key to the storeroom will be given to the police, andto no one else."
"But--the other key?"
"That is not in my keeping."
"I do not believe you!"
"I am sorry," I said shortly. "As a matter of fact, Burns has that."
By the look of triumph in her eyes I knew I had told her what shewanted to know. She went below soon after, and I warned Burns that hewould probably be approached in the same way.
"Not that I am afraid," I added. "But keep the little Sloane woman ata distance. She's quite capable of mesmerizing you with her eyes androbbing you with her hands at the same time."
"I'd rather you'd carry it," he said, "although I'm not afraid of thelady. It's not likely, after--"
He did not finish, but he glanced aft toward the jollyboat. PoorBurns! I believe he had really cared for the Danish girl. Perhaps Iwas foolish, but I refused to take the key from him; I felt sure hecould be trusted.
The murders had been committed on the early morning of Wednesday, the12th. It was on the following Tuesday that Mrs. Sloane and I had ourlittle conversation on deck, and on Wednesday we came up with theBuenos Aires.
It was on Friday, therefore, two days after the cargo steamer had slidover the edge of the ocean, and left us, motionless, a painted shipupon a painted sea, that the incident happened that completed thedemoralization of the crew.
For almost a week the lookouts had reported "All's well" in response tothe striking of the ship's bell. The hysteria, as Burns and I dubbedit, of the white figure had died away as the men's nerves grew lessirritated. Although we had found no absolute explanation of themarlinespike, an obvious one suggested itself. The men, althoughgiving up their weapons without protest, had grumbled somewhat overbeing left without means of defense. It was entirely possible, weagreed, that the marlinespike had been so disposed, as some seaman'sresort in time of need.
The cook, taking down the dinner on Friday evening, reported Mr. Turnerup and about and partly dressed. The heat was frightful. All day wehad had a following breeze, and it had been necessary to lengthen thetowing-rope, dropping the jolly-boat well behind us. The men, sayinglittle or nothing, dozed under their canvas; the helmsman drooped atthe wheel. Under our feet the boards sent up simmering heat waves, andthe brasses were too hot to touch.
At four o'clock Elsa Lee came on deck, and spoke to me for the firsttime in several days. She started when she saw me, and no wonder. Inthe frenzied caution of the day after the crimes, I had flung everyrazor overboard, and the result was as villainous a set of men as Ihave ever seen.
"Have you been ill again?" she asked.
I put my hand to my chin. "Not ill," I said; "merely unshaven."
"But you are pale, and your eyes are sunk in your head."
"We are very short-handed and--no one has slept much."
"Or eaten at all, I imagine," she said. "When do we get in?"
"I can hardly say. With this wind, perhaps Tuesday."
"Where?"
"Philadelphia."
"You intend to turn the yacht over to the police?"
"Yes, Miss Lee."
"Every one on it?"
"That is up to the police. They will probably not hold the women. Youwill be released, I imagine, on your own recognizance."
"And--Mr. Turner?"
"He will have to take his luck with the rest of us."
She asked me no further questions, but switched at once to what hadbrought her on deck.
"The cabin is unbearable," she said. "We are willing to take the riskof opening the after companion door."
But I could not allow this, and I tried to explain my reasons. Thecrew were quartered there, for one; for the other, whether they werewilling to take the risk or not, I would not open it without placing aguard there, and we had no one to spare for the duty. I suggested thatthey use the part of the deck reserved for th
em, where it was fairlycool under the awning; and, after a dispute below, they agreed to this.Turner, very weak, came up the few steps slowly, but refused myproffered help. A little later, he called me from the rail and offeredme a cigar. The change in him was startling.
We took advantage of their being on deck to open the windows and airthe after house. But all were securely locked and barred before theywent below again. It was the first time they had all been on decktogether since the night of the 11th. It was a different crowd ofpeople that sat there, looking over the rail and speaking inmonosyllables: no bridge, no glasses clinking with ice, no elaboratetoilets and carefully dressed hair, no flash of jewels, no lightlaughter following one of poor Vail's sallies.
At ten o'clock they went below, but not until I had quietly locatedevery member of the crew. I had the watch from eight to twelve thatnight, and at half after ten Mrs. Johns came on deck again. She didnot speak to me, but dropped into a steamer-chair and yawned,stretching out her arms. By the light of the companion lantern, I sawthat she had put on one of the loose negligees she affected forundress, and her arms were bare except for a fall of lace.
At eight bells (midnight) Burns took my place. Charlie Jones was atthe wheel, and McNamara in the crow's-nest. Mrs. Johns was dozing inher chair. The yacht was making perhaps four knots, and, far behind,the small white light of the jolly-boat showed where she rode.
I slept heavily, and at eight bells I rolled off my blanket andprepared to relieve Burns. I was stiff, weary, unrefreshed. The airwas very still and we were hardly moving. I took a pail of water thatstood near the rail, and, leaning far out, poured it over my head andshoulders. As I turned, dripping, Jones, relieved of the wheel,touched me on the arm.
"Go back to sleep, boy," he said kindly. "We need you, and we're goin'to need you more when we get ashore. You've been talkin' in your sleeptill you plumb scared me."
But I was wide awake by that time, and he had had as little sleep as Ihad. I refused, and we went forward together, Jones to get coffee,which stood all night on the galley stove.
It was still dark. The dawn, even in the less than four weeks we hadbeen out, came perceptibly later. At the port forward corner of theafter house, Jones stumbled over something, and gave a sharpexclamation. The next moment he was on his knees, lighting a match.
Burns lay there on his face, unconscious, and bleeding profusely from acut on the back of his head--but not dead.