CHAPTER V
THE DEAD MAN IN THE PASSAGE
The _Kut Sang_ was dropping downstream as I locked my stateroom and mademy way to the upper-deck, partly to get a last look at Manila, but morefor the purpose of considering what I should do in the matter of tellingCaptain Riggs that I suspected Meeker was not a missionary.
In the last few minutes before the departure of the vessel I had suddenlybeen struck with the idea that Meeker was more than a mere spy whomistook me for one of his own ilk. This feeling was vague and formless,and I did not know how to begin to put together the various elements thatseemed to connect some sort of a well-defined plot.
No sooner would I set about putting certain facts together than I wouldlaugh at myself for manufacturing a mystery; and, after I had tried toshake off the impression that the _Kut Sang_ and all of us in her weremore than mere travellers and seamen, the fantastic ideas insisted uponrunning through my head.
Through this formless mass of queer events of the day, Meeker and thelittle red-headed man kept to the front of my fancies, and with them thesteamer _Kut Sang_.
Why, I asked myself, had Meeker made such strenuous efforts to keep mefrom taking passage in the vessel? It seemed absurd to suppose that hehad acted as he did, simply because he disliked the idea of having me fora fellow passenger.
Then there was Trego and Meeker's appearance at the bank, "seeking alms,"and the further fact that Trego was in the _Kut Sang_. It seemed to bemore than a coincidence that the two of them should meet as they did.
I even found something queer in the killing of the boatswain of the_Kut Sang_ at the Flagship Bar, and began to wonder if Petrak did nothave a hand in the murder, even though he was so ready with a denial whenI spoke to him about it.
As I stood at the rail of the hurricane-deck, and thought of thesethings, Petrak came up from the fore-deck and stood at the foot of theladder leading to the bridge, where I could hear Captain Riggs pacing toand fro and speaking through the trap to the helmsman about the course.
The little red-headed man grinned at me and set to work polishing theknob of the wheel-house door, and not until that minute did I realizethat he had come along with us in the _Kut Sang_. And he likewisereminded me at once that it was I who had brought him aboard.
"I signed on, sir," he said, pointing to his new cap, which had thesteamer's name embroidered upon it. "Thanks to you, sir, I got a shipout."
"I am glad you did," I said curtly, not sure whether I ought to be amusedat the turn of events by which I had unwittingly brought the littlerascal along with me.
I glanced up the companionway to Captain Riggs, and had a mind to go upand speak to him about Meeker, but I disliked to invade the bridge,sacred territory at sea. He was standing just at the head of the ladderthen, and could see me.
"Would you mind the peseta, sir?" asked Petrak.
I remembered that he had brought my bag aboard, and, finding a peso in mypocket--five times what he had asked for--I gave him the coin.
"Here," I said; "take this, and keep out of my reach. I've seen quiteenough of you for a time."
"Please don't tip my crew," Captain Riggs called down to me in a pleasantmanner. "The steward's department must attend to the passengers, for weare short-handed on deck, and I can't have the men running errands."
"It's for services rendered," I told Riggs, and he nodded as if satisfiedwith my explanation, and turned away to the other end of the bridge.
Impulsively I started up the ladder, determined at least to tell him whatI suspected of Meeker and let him judge for himself, or be on his guardagainst the old impostor, whether he liked my tale-bearing or not. As Iput my hand out to take the ladder-guard, Petrak thrust himself before meand barred the way.
"Can't go on the bridge, sir; against orders," he said.
I fell back, convinced that he was right and that I had had a narrowescape from making an ass of myself. Captain Riggs probably would notthank me for disturbing him or bothering him with idle rumours andfanciful yarns about passengers, even though they might be spies.
The steamer was now well into the bay. The sun was at the rim of hillsbetween us and the open sea, and the sky was aflame in a gorgeoustropical sunset.
Harris, the mate, was busy on the fore-deck battening down hatches andclearing up the litter of ropes and slings. The _Kut Sang_ was plainlyenough short-handed for the passage, for there were but half a dozenChinese sailors in sight. Petrak worked with a cloth on the brass-knob,and he was loafing without a doubt.
I suspected that he was afraid I was waiting for him to go away, so thatI might go up the ladder to the bridge. One of the men who had broughtMeeker's organ aboard had the wheel, a long, lanky cockney he was, fromwhat I could see of him through the window of the pilot-house.
We were well clear of the ships at anchor outside the breakwater whenfour bells--six o'clock--struck, and Harris came up and went on thebridge, passing without apparently seeing me. He growled something toPetrak, and the red-headed man went toward the forecastle.
"Time for Rajah to have the bell going," said Riggs as he descended tothe hurricane-deck and greeted me affably. "What do you say to goingbelow and seeing what's on the table?"
As he spoke I heard the rattle of a gong, and as I turned to go belowwith Captain Riggs, Meeker came around the deck-house and joined us,regarding us from under his heavy brows as he approached, and rubbing hishands in a manner that increased my growing dislike for him.
"My dear sirs," he said; "that is a beautiful sight. I have never seen,in all my twenty years in the Orient, such a sunset."
"Can't keep me from my meals," said Captain Riggs, waving to Meeker toprecede him into the companionway. I was rather pleased at the captain'sgruffness with him, and resolved that as soon as the opportunity offeredI would discuss the crafty gentleman with Riggs.
We found Trego at table. He looked up, and made no attempt to conceal hissurprise at seeing Meeker.
"Ah! Mr. Trenholm," he said to me, and we shook hands, and the Malay boygave me the seat opposite him.
"Mr. Trego--allow me--the Reverend Meeker," said Riggs.
"So you and Mr. Trenholm have met before?" said Meeker, evidentlyastonished because Trego spoke to me without an introduction.
"Old friends," and I winked at Trego, to the further mystification of thepseudo-missionary, who took the seat beside me. Captain Riggs took thehead of the table, so that he was between Trego and me.
"And this is Rajah, the mess-boy," said Riggs, indicating the black boywho stood behind him, clad in a white jacket with brass buttons, belowwhich he wore a scarlet _sarong_ reaching to his bare feet, and evidentlyfashioned from an old table-cover. The hilt of a kris showed above thefolds of his _sarong_, and the two lower buttons of the jacket were leftopen, so that the dagger might be free to his hand. He grinned and showedhis teeth.
"Dumb as a dog-fish, but can hear like a terrier," said Riggs. "Pickedhim up in the streets of Singapore, where he was sort of an assistantmagician. He's quick with that knife, gentlemen."
The captain was obviously proud of his queer bodyguard and servant.
"It is a pity that he should be allowed to carry a fearsome weapon, whichis a menace to his fellowmen," said Meeker, shrinking away from the boy."I believe he would slay a human over a trifle."
"Absolutely harmless unless he has some reason to anger," laughedRiggs, somewhat amused at the nervousness of Meeker. "Has to pack thatcheese-knife--chinks pick on him if he don't. Give him a wide berth,though, when they see that blade. Quick with it."
"But we should lead the barbarian to the light," said Meeker. "It is adreadful example for Christians to set such people. They should not beallowed to carry such weapons--the practice leads to crime."
"Soup all around, Rajah," said Riggs, as if to close the subject.
"Do you carry deadly weapons, Mr. Trenholm? Do you approve of the bearingof arms?"
"I always have a weapon at hand," I replied seriously. "One never cantell when it will be neede
d in this country, and I believe in alwaysbeing ready for an emergency."
"Indeed! And is it possible that you have a dagger concealed upon yourperson?"
"No daggers; but this is my right bower"--tapping the butt of the pistolon my right side--"and this is my left bower," and I tapped my left side.
Mr. Trego burst out laughing at this, much to the discomfiture of Meeker,who glared at him, and edged away from me.
"And do you carry such death-dealing machinery, Mr. Trego?" asked Meeker,a sneer in the question.
Trego reached for his malacca cane. In an instant he had whipped it apartand presented a delicate point toward Meeker, who recoiled at thesuddenness of the unexpected thrust.
"With me at all times," said Trego, when the captain stopped laughing."And my cabeen--eet ees one beeg arsenal, like you call it in yourlanguage. Yes."
"A pitiable example for the heathen," said Meeker. "I trust that you arenot armed to the teeth, as the expression goes, captain."
"I don't want to spoil your appetite," said Riggs.
"Of course, Mr. Trego needs those things, as he is--"
"A passenger," said Trego, giving the captain a quick glance.
"A passenger," said Riggs blankly. "To be sure, a passenger. Now, Mr.Meeker, I wish you would say a grace, if it pleases you."
Meeker bowed his head and mumbled something which I could not make out;besides, I was much more interested in a little byplay between CaptainRiggs and Trego, which began as soon as Meeker and I had piously cast oureyes downward.
It was a signal conveyed by Trego to the captain, in which he cautionedhim to silence about something, by putting his finger to his lips, as ifsome subject were tabooed. Riggs nodded as if he understood. BeforeMeeker had finished, Trego looked at him and scowled, to convey to thecaptain that he did not like the missionary.
"The weather is going to be fine from the way it looks now," said Riggs,in an altered tone, as if he wanted to shift the conversation into morecongenial lines. "I trust we will all do our best to stay up to theweather in that respect--quick passage and good company keeps everybodyon good terms and in good spirits," he added significantly.
Then he began giving us the stock-jokes of the China Sea and tellingstories of his younger days, when he had better commands than the old_Kut Sang_. He was a bluff but likable old sea-dog, but I saw that heobserved Meeker closely as he talked, and I knew that he was none toowell taken with him.
So the meal went on well enough. Night had fallen upon us with tropicalswiftness, and a cooling breeze was blowing through the open ports,charged with the salt tang of the sea. The _Kut Sang_ was humming along,and there was a soothing murmur through the ancient tub as she shoulderedthe gentle swells of the bay.
The saloon was cozy and we dallied at table, chiefly because we did notlike to leave while Riggs was telling his stories, although I would havepreferred my cigar on deck.
There was something about the little party in the saloon of the_Kut Sang_ that evening that held my attention. To me the air seemedcharged with a foreboding of something imminent--something out of theordinary, something to be long remembered. I told myself, in apremonition of things to come, that I should always remember CaptainRiggs and the Rev. Luther Meeker and Trego and Rajah, and the verypattern of the parti-coloured cloth on the table, the creak of thepivot-chairs and the picture of the Japanese girl in the mineral-watercalendar which swayed on the bulkhead opposite my seat.
I can see them now; as clearly as if I were back in the old _Kut Sang_,with the chatter of the Chinese sailors coming through the ports to spicethe tales of the China coast which Riggs kept going.
We picked up Corregidor Light, which winked at us through the ports as weentered the channel. Somebody looked in at the door of the passage andRiggs waved a napkin at him.
"Tell Mr. Harris to call me if he needs me," he said, and then to us:"It's clear, and Mr. Harris, my mate, knows the Boca Grande like the palmof his hand."
He was well launched into another of his long yarns and had a fresh cigarbetween his teeth when the pitching of the steamer told us we wereheading into the China Sea. We were clear of the channel by the time hehad finished the adventure he was relating, and Trego was beginning tofidget. We all moved as if to leave the table.
"I signed the two men you brought aboard, Mr. Meeker," said Riggs. "Whatare their names?"
"That I do not know for certain," replied Meeker. "I believe the chap inthe navy-pantaloons is known as--Buckrow, and the other, the tall Briton,is called 'Long Jim,' or some such name, by his companions. They bothappear to be worthy men, and it made me sad to see them on the beach inManila for the need of passage to Hong-Kong, or some other place wherethey would be more likely to get a ship.
"That is why I interceded in their behalf, and it is very kind of you,captain, to make it possible for them to better themselves, for idle menin these ports fall into evil, and it is best that they should keep tothe sea. They were both well spoken of by Mr. Marley, who has charge ofthe Sailors' Home."
"Two sailors that I see?" Trego asked the captain.
"Mr. Meeker brought two men aboard with him to carry his gear," explainedRiggs. "They wanted to get out of Manila, and, as I was short-handed forchinks, I let 'em work their passage. They signed with the commissioner,and will get four Hong-Kong dollars for the trip."
Trego frowned as he toyed with a bamboo napkin-ring, but said nothing.
"Your red-headed chap is a good man at the helm," said Riggs to me. "He'sgot the wheel now, and, with the other two, I'll have goodquartermasters. The chinkies are poor steerers."
"Meester Trenholm ees breeng a sailor, too?" demanded Trego, turning hisblack eyes on me in a manner that I could not understand.
"He brought my baggage aboard," said I, somewhat annoyed. "He offered hisservices to Captain Riggs, and was hired, and it is no affair of mine."
"The little man with hair of red?" persisted Trego.
"Decidedly red."
Knowing, as I did, that he had charge of the ship--a fact which heevidently wished to keep from Meeker and me, judging from his signals tothe captain--I understood in a way his interest in the crew.
"Pardon, captain," said Trego abruptly. "I must go to my cabeen for somecigarettes. Soon I will return. I hope you will be here."
It struck me that his suggestion that Captain Riggs wait for him was morein the nature of a command than a request.
Rajah served coffee again, and the three of us fell silent. It was anawkward situation, for we all felt embarrassed--at least I did, as aresult of Trego's displeasure over the method of recruiting the crew.I wished that I had left Petrak on the dock.
Meeker took an old newspaper from his pocket and unfolded it on the tablecarefully.
"I think I have something here which will interest you both," he began."It concerns--my glasses! Will you pardon me for a minute while I get myglasses from my room? I'll be back presently," and he bowed himself out.
"The old shark is funny," said Riggs. "I hold to what I have said aboutparsons--I don't like 'em aboard me."
I glanced at the passage and wondered if I would have time to whisper toRiggs about Meeker before the latter returned.
"He wants to hold some sort of service for'ard this evening," continuedthe captain. "I'm suited if the crew is. It's not that I'm against thesailing directions in the Bible, mind, Mr. Trenholm, or an ungodly man,for I was a deacon back home in Maine. I don't like this chap--he lookstoo slippery to suit me."
Meeker came back and closed the bulkhead door behind him, adjusting hisglasses and picking up the newspaper as he took his seat.
"My dear sirs," he resumed, "I want to read this little article to youand then I'll explain it more fully to you. I am sure that you will findit of interest, Mr. Trenholm, as a literary man and a member of thepress, even if in no other way, and you, my dear Captain Riggs, will beinterested because it concerns the sea, and you may have some knowledgeof the facts. When I was in Aden four--no, five years ago it was--I me
t amost remarkable gentleman. Most remarkable! He told me a story that waspassing strange, and--"
He was interrupted by the bulkhead door flying open violently and Rajah,with his hands thrown up and terror in his eyes, ran toward CaptainRiggs, making frantic efforts to frame words with his lips.
"Sally Ann!" cried Riggs in alarm, jumping up. "What the devil hashappened to give the boy such a turn! He's nigh out of his wits!"
Rajah pointed to the open door, but we could not see into the passagebeyond the triangle of light thrown out from the gimbal-lamps in thesaloon. The boy ran toward the door and pointed again, and then drew backin fear, drawing his kris and raising it in a position of defence.
Captain Riggs ran to the door and I followed him, with my hand on mypistol, Meeker crowding against my shoulders. In the dim light oozinginto the passage we made out an indistinct figure.
"What in Sally Ann's name is this?" shouted Riggs, darting out andseizing the object, which he pulled toward the light.
It was the body of Mr. Trego, stabbed to the heart, the sailor'ssheath-knife which had killed him still in his fatal wound.
"What the blue blazes does this mean?" demanded Captain Riggs, turning tous as if we could explain the tragedy. "What in the name of Sally Ann hashappened here? Tell me that?"
"Can that be our friend, Mr. Trego, who was with us but a minute ago?"asked Meeker, aghast as he gazed at the waxen features of the dead man.
"It's Mr. Trego right enough," shouted Riggs. "It's Trego and no doubt ofthat! Well, I'm blowed!"
"Who could have done such an awful thing?" whispered Meeker, staring atme with wide-open eyes. "Who could have done this?"
"Don't ask me!" Captain Riggs bawled at him. "Don't ask me!"
"He's quite dead," said Meeker, leaning forward again. "In the midst oflife we are in death."
He held his hands over the dead man and said a prayer.