CHAPTER VII
WE FIND THE AXE
I went to the after companionway and called up to the men to send thefirst mate down; but Burns came instead.
"Singleton's sick," he explained. "He's up there in a corner, withOleson and McNamara holding him."
"Burns," I said cautiously--"I've found another!"
"God, not one of the women!"
"One of the maids--Karen."
Burns was a young fellow about my own age, and to this point he hadstood up well. But he had been having a sort of flirtation with thegirl, and I saw him go sick with horror. He wanted to see her, when hehad got command of himself; but I would not let him enter the room. Hestood outside, while I went in and carried out the stewardess, who wascoming to and moaning. I took her forward, and told the three womenthere what I had found.
Mrs. Johns was better, and I found them all huddled in her room. I putthe stewardess on the bed, and locked the door into the next room.Then, after examining the window, I gave Elsa Lee my revolver.
"Don't let any one in," I said. "I'll put a guard at the twocompanionways, and we'll let no one down. But keep the door lockedalso."
She took the revolver from me, and examined it with the air of onefamiliar with firearms. Then she looked up at me, her lips as white asher face.
"We are relying on you, Leslie," she said.
And, at her words, the storm of self-contempt and bitterness that I hadbeen holding in abeyance for the last half hour swept over me like aflood. I could have wept for fury.
"Why should you trust me?" I demanded. "I slept through the time whenI was needed. And when I wakened and found myself locked in thestoreroom, I waited to take the lock off instead of breaking down thedoor! I ought to jump overboard."
"We are relying on you," she said again, simply; and I heard her fastenthe door behind me as I went out.
Dawn was coming as I joined the crew, huddled around the wheel. Therewere nine men, counting Singleton. But Singleton hardly counted. Hewas in a state of profound mental and physical collapse. The Ella waswithout an accredited officer, and, for lack of orders to the contrary,the helmsman--McNamara now--was holding her to her course. Burns hadtaken Schwartz's place as second mate, but the situation was clearlybeyond him. Turner's condition was known and frankly discussed. Itwas clear that, for a time at least, we would have to get along withouthim.
Charlie Jones, always an influence among the men, voiced the situationas we all stood together in the chill morning air:
"What we want to do, boys," he said, "is to make for the nearest port.This here is a police matter."
"And a hanging matter," someone else put in.
"We've got to remember, boys, that this ain't like a crime on land.We've got the fellow that did it. He's on the boat all right."
There was a stirring among the men, and some of them looked aft towhere, guarded by the Swede Oleson, Singleton was sitting, his head inhis hands.
"And, what's more," Charlie Jones went on, "I'm for putting Leslie herein charge--for now, anyhow. That's agreeable to you, is it, Burns?"
"But I don't know anything about a ship," I objected. "I'm willingenough, but I'm not competent."
I believe the thing had been discussed before I went up, for McNamaraspoke up from the wheel.
"We'll manage that somehow or other, Leslie," he said. "We wantsomebody to take charge, somebody with a head, that's all. And sinceyou ain't, in a manner of speaking, been one of us, nobody's feelingscan't be hurt. Ain't that it, boys?"
"That, and a matter of brains," said Burns.
"But Singleton?" I glanced aft.
"Singleton is going in irons," was the reply I got.
The light was stronger now, and I could see their faces. It was clearthat the crew, or a majority of the crew, believed him guilty, andthat, as far as Singleton was concerned, my authority did not exist.
"All right," I said. "I'll do the best I can. First of all, I wantevery man to give up his weapons. Burns!"
"Aye, aye."
"Go over each man. Leave them their pocket-knives; take everythingelse."
The men lined up. The situation was tense, horrible, so that themiscellaneous articles from their pockets--knives, keys, plugs ofchewing tobacco, and here and there, among the foreign ones, smallcombs for beard and mustache unexpectedly brought to light, caused asmile of pure reaction. Two revolvers from Oleson and McNamara and onenicked razor from Adams completed the list of weapons we found. Thecrew submitted willingly. They seemed relieved to have some one todirect them, and the alacrity with which they obeyed my orders showedhow they were suffering under the strain of inaction.
I went over to Singleton and put my hand on his shoulder.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Singleton," I said, "but I'll have to ask you for yourrevolver."
Without looking at me, he drew it from his hip pocket and held it out.I took it: It was loaded.
"It's out of order," he said briefly. "If it had been working right, Iwouldn't be here."
I reached down and touched his wrist. His pulse was slow and ratherfaint, his hands cold.
"Is there anything I can do for you?"
"Yes," he snarled. "You can get me a belaying-pin and let me at thosefools over there. Turner did this, and you know it as well as I do!"
I slid his revolver into my pocket, and went back to the men. CountingWilliams and the cook and myself, there were nine of us. The cook Icounted out, ordering him to go to the galley and prepare breakfast.The eight that were left I divided into two watches, Burns taking oneand I the other. On Burns's watch were Clarke, McNamara, and Williams;on mine, Oleson, Adams, and Charlie Jones.
It was two bells, or five o'clock. Burns struck the gong sharply as anindication that order, of a sort, had been restored. The rising sunwas gleaming on the sails; the gray surface of the sea was rufflingunder the morning breeze. From the galley a thin stream of smoke wasrising. Some of the horror of the night went with the darkness, butthe thought of what waited in the cabin below was on us all.
I suggested another attempt to rouse Mr. Turner, and Burns and Clarkewent below. They came back in ten minutes, reporting no change inTurner's condition. There was open grumbling among the men at thesituation, but we were helpless. Burns and I decided to go on as ifTurner were not on board, until he was in condition to take hold.
We thought it best to bring up the bodies while all the crew was onduty, and then to take up the watches. I arranged to have one manconstantly on guard in the after house--a difficult matter where allwere under suspicion. Burns suggested Charlie Jones as probably themost reliable, and I gave him the revolver I had taken from Singleton.It was useless, but it made at least a show of authority. The rest ofthe crew, except Oleson, on guard over the mate, was detailed to assistin carrying up the three bodies. Williams was taken along to getsheets from the linen room.
We brought the captain up first, laying him on a sheet on the deck andfolding the edges over him. It was terrible work. Even I, fresh froma medical college, grew nauseated over it. He was heavy. It was slowwork, getting him up. Vail we brought up in the sheets from his bunk.Of the three, he was the most mutilated. The maid Karen showed onlyone injury, a smashing blow on the head, probably from the head of theaxe. For axe it had been, beyond a doubt. I put Williams to workbelow to clear away every evidence of what had happened. He went down,ashy-faced, only to rush up again, refusing to stay alone. I sentClarke with him, and instructed Charlie Jones to keep them there untilthe cabin was in order.
At three bells the cook brought coffee, and some of the men took it. Itried to swallow, but it choked me.
Burns had served as second mate on a sailing vessel, and thought hecould take us back, at least into more traveled waters. We decided tohead back to New York. I got the code book from the captain's cabin,and we agreed to run up the flag, union down, if any other vessel camein sight. I got the code word for "Mutiny--need assistance," and Iasked the mate if he w
ould signal if a vessel came near enough. But heturned sullen and refused to answer.
I find it hard to recap calmly the events of that morning: the threestill and shrouded figures, prone on deck; the crew, bareheaded,standing around, eyeing each other stealthily, with panic ready to leapfree and grip each of them by the throat; the grim determination, thereason for which I did not yet know, to put the first mate in irons;and, over all, the clear sunrise of an August morning on the ocean,rails and decks gleaming, an odor of coffee in the air, the joyous liftand splash of the bowsprit as the Ella, headed back on her course,seemed to make for home like a nag for the stable.
Surely none of these men, some weeping, all grieving, could be thefiend who had committed the crimes. One by one, I looked in theirfaces--at Burns, youngest member of the crew, a blue-eyed, sandy-hairedScot; at Clarke and Adams and Charlie Jones, old in the service of theTurner line; at McNamara, a shrewd little Irishman; at Oleson theSwede. And, in spite of myself, I could not help comparing them withthe heavy-shouldered, sodden-faced man below in his cabin, the owner ofthe ship.
One explanation came to me, and I leaped at it--the possibility of astowaway hidden in the hold, some maniacal fugitive who had found inthe little cargo boat's empty hull ample room to hide. The men, too,seized at the idea. One and all volunteered for what might prove to bea dangerous service.
I chose Charlie Jones and Clarke as being most familiar with the ship,and we went down into the hold. Clarke carried a lantern. CharlieJones held Singleton's broken revolver. I carried a belaying pin. But,although we searched every foot of space, we found nothing. Theformaldehyde with which Turner had fumigated the ship clung heretenaciously, and, mixed with the odors of bilge water and theindescribable heavy smells left by tropical cargoes, made me dizzy andill.
We were stumbling along, Clarke with the lantern, I next, and CharlieJones behind, on our way to the ladder again, when I received astunning blow on the back of the head. I turned dizzy, expectingnothing less than sudden death, when it developed that Jones, havingstumbled over a loose plank, had fallen forward, the revolver in hisoutstretched hand striking my head.
He picked himself up sheepishly, and we went on. But so unnerved was Iby this fresh shock that it was a moment or two before I could essaythe ladder.
Burns was waiting at the hatchway, peering down. Beside him on thedeck lay a bloodstained axe.
Elsa Lee, on hearing the story of Henrietta Sloane, had gone to themaids' cabin, and had found it where it had been flung into the berthof the stewardess.