Cleigh sat before a card table; he was playing Chinese Canfield. He looked
up, but he neither rose nor dropped the half-spent deck of cards he held
in his hand. The bronzed face, the hard agate blue of the eyes that met
his own, the utter absence of visible agitation, took the wind out of
Dennison's sails and left him all a-shiver, like a sloop coming about on a
fresh tack. He had made his entrance stormily enough, but now the hot
words stuffed his throat to choking.
Cleigh was thirty years older than his son; he was a finished master of
sentimental emotions; he could keep all his thoughts out of his
countenance when he so willed. But powerful as his will was, in this
instance it failed to reach down into his heart; and that thumped against
his ribs rather painfully. The boy!
Dennison, aware that he stood close to the ridiculous, broke the spell and
advanced.
"I have come for Miss Norman," he said.
Cleigh scrutinized the cards and shifted one.
"I found your note to her. I've a launch. I don't know what the game is,
but I'm going to take Miss Norman back with me if I have to break in every
door on board!"
Cleigh stood up. As he did so Dodge, the Texan appeared in the doorway to
the dining salon. Dennison saw the blue barrel of a revolver.
"A gunman, eh? All right. Let's see if he'll shoot," said the son, walking
deliberately toward Dodge.
"No, Dodge!" Cleigh called out as the Texan, raised the revolver. "You may
go."
Dodge, a good deal astonished, backed out. Once more father and son stared
at each other.
"Better call it off," advised the son. "You can't hold Miss Norman--and I
can make a serious charge. Bring her at once, or I'll go for her. And the
Lord help the woodwork if I start!"
But even as he uttered the threat Dennison heard a sound behind. He
turned, but not soon enough. In a second he was on the floor, three husky
seamen mauling him. They had their hands full for a while, but in the end
they conquered.
"What next, sir?" asked one of the sailors, breathing hard.
"Tie him up and lock him in Cabin Two."
The first order was executed. After Dennison's arms and ankles were bound
the men stood him up.
"Are you really my father?"
Cleigh returned to his cards and shuffled them for a new deal.
"Don't untie him. He might walk through the partition. He will have the
freedom of the deck when we are out of the delta."
Dennison was thereupon carried to Cabin Two, and deposited upon the
stationary bed. He began to laugh. There was a sardonic note in this
laughter, like that which greets you when you recount some incredible
tale. His old cabin!
The men shook their heads, as if confronted by something so unusual that
it wasn't worth while to speculate upon it. The old man's son! They went
out, locking the door. By this time Dennison's laughter had reached the
level of shouting, but only he knew how near it was to tears--wrathful,
murderous, miserable tears! He fought his bonds terrifically for a moment,
then relaxed.
For seven years he had been hugging the hope that when he and his father
met blood would tell, and that their differences would vanish in a strong
handclasp; and here he lay, trussed hand and foot, in his old cabin, not a
crack in that granite lump his father called a heart!
A childish thought! Some day to take that twenty thousand with accrued
interest, ride up to the door, step inside, dump the silver on that old
red Samarkand, and depart--forever.
Where was she? This side of the passage or the other?
"Miss Norman?" he called.
"Yes?" came almost instantly from the cabin aft.
"This is Captain Dennison. I'm tied up and lying on the bed. Can you hear
me distinctly?"
"Yes. Your father has made a prisoner of you? Of all the inhuman acts! You
came in search of me?"
"Naturally. Have you those infernal beads?"
"No."
Dennison twisted about until he had his shoulders against the brass rail
of the bed head.
"What happened?"
"It was a trick. It was not to talk about you--he wanted the beads, and
that made me furious."
"Were you hurt in the struggle?"
"There wasn't any. I really don't know what possessed me. Perhaps I was a
bit hypnotized. Perhaps I was curious. Perhaps I wanted--some excitement.
On my word, I don't know just what happened. Anyhow, here I am--in a
dinner gown, bound for Hong-Kong, so he says. He offered me ten thousand
for the beads, and my freedom, if I would promise not to report his
high-handedness; and I haven't uttered a sound."
"Heaven on earth, why didn't you accept his offer?"
A moment of silence.
"In the first place, I haven't the beads. In the second place, I want to
make him all the trouble I possibly can. Now that he has me, he doesn't
know what to do with me. Hoist by his own petard. Do you want the truth?
Well, I'm not worried in the least. I feel as if I'd been invited to some
splendiferous picnic."
"That's foolish," he remonstrated.
"Of course it is. But it's the sort of foolishness I've been aching for
all my life. I knew something was going to happen. I broke my hand mirror
night before last. Two times seven years' bad luck. Now he has me, I'll
wager he's half frightened out of his wits. But what made you think of the
yacht?"
"We forced the door of your room, and I found the note. Has he told you
what makes those infernal beads so precious?"
"No. I can't figure that out."
"No more can I. Did he threaten you?"
"Yes. Would I enter the launch peacefully, or would he have to carry me? I
didn't want my gown spoiled--it's the only decent one I have. I'm not
afraid. It isn't as though he were a stranger. Being your father, he would
never stoop to any indignity. But he'll find he has caught a tartar. I
had an idea you'd find me."
"Well, I have. But you won't get to Hong-Kong. The minute he liberates me
I'll sneak into the wireless room and bring the destroyers. I didn't
notify the police from a bit of foolish sentiment. I didn't quite want you
mixed up in the story. I had your things conveyed to the consulate."
"My story--which few men would believe. I've thought of that. Are you
smoking?"
"Smoking, with my hands tied behind my back? Not so you'd notice it."
"I smell tobacco smoke--a good cigar, too."
"Then someone is in the passage listening."
Silence. Anthony Cleigh eyed his perfecto rather ruefully and tiptoed back
to the salon. Hoist by his own petard. He was beginning to wonder. Cleigh
was a man who rarely regretted an act, but in the clear light of day he
was beginning to have his doubts regarding this one. A mere feather on the
wrong side of the scale, and the British destroyers would be atop of him
like a flock of kites. Abduction! Cut down to bedrock, he had laid himself
open to that. He ran his fingers through his cowlicks. But drat the woman!
why had she accepted the situation so docilely? Since midnight not a sound
out of her, not a wail, not a sob. Now he had her, he couldn't let her
go. She was right there.
There was one man in the crew Cleigh had begun to dislike intensely, and
he had been manoeuvring ever since Honolulu to find a legitimate excuse to
give the man his papers. Something about the fellow suggested covert
insolence; he had the air of a beachcomber who had unexpectedly fallen
into a soft berth, and it had gone to his head. He had been standing watch
at the ladder head, and against positive orders he had permitted a visitor
to pass him. To Cleigh this was the handle he had been hunting for. He
summoned the man.
"Get your duffle," said Cleigh.
"What's that, sir?"
"Get your stuff. You're through. You had positive orders, and you let a
man by."
"But his uniform fussed me, sir. I didn't know just how to act."
"Get your stuff! Mr. Cleve will give you your pay. My orders are absolute.
Off with you!"
The sailor sullenly obeyed. He found the first officer alone in the chart
house.
"The boss has sent me for my pay, Mr. Cleve. I'm fired." Flint grinned
amiably.
"Fired? Well, well," said Cleve, "that's certainly tough luck--all this
way from home. I'll have to pay you in Federal Reserve bills. The old man
has the gold."
"Federal Reserve it is. Forty-six dollars in Uncle Samuels."
The first officer solemnly counted out the sum and laid it on the palm of
the discharged man.
"Tough world."
"Oh, I'm not worrying! I'll bet you this forty-six against ten that I've
another job before midnight."
Mr. Cleve grinned.
"Always looking for sure-thing bets! Better hail that bumboat with the
vegetables to row you into town. The old man'll dump you over by hand if
he finds you here between now and sundown."
"I'll try the launch there. Tell the lad his fare ain't goin' back to
Shanghai. Of course it makes it a bit inconvenient, packing and unpacking;
but I guess I can live through it. But what about the woman?"
Cleve plucked at his chin.
"Messes up the show a bit. Pippin, though. I like 'em when they walk
straight and look straight like this one. Notice her hair? You never tame
that sort beyond parlour manners. But I don't like her on board here, or
the young fellow, either. Don't know him, but he's likely to bust the
yacht wide open if he gets loose."
"Well, so long, Mary! Know what my first move'll be?"
"A bottle somewhere. But mind your step! Don't monkey with the stuff
beyond normal. You know what I mean."
"Sure! Only a peg or two, after all this psalm-singing!"
"I know, Flint. But this game is no joke. You know what happened in town?
Morrissy was near croaked."
Flint's face lost some of its gayety.
"Oh, I know how to handle the stuff! See you later."
* * * * *
Cleigh decided to see what the girl's temper was, so he entered the
passage on the full soles of his shoes. He knocked on her door.
"Miss Norman?"
"Well?"
That was a good sign; she was ready to talk.
"I have come to repeat that offer."
"Mr. Cleigh, I have nothing to say so long as the key is on the wrong side
of the door."
Cleigh heard a chuckle from Cabin Two.
"Very well," he said. "Remember, I offered you liberty conditionally. If
you suffer inconveniences after to-night you will have only yourself to
thank."
"Have you calculated that some day you will have to let me go?"
"Yes, I have calculated on that."
"And that I shall go to the nearest authorities and report this action?"
"If you will think a moment," said Cleigh, his tone monotonously level,
"you will dismiss that plan for two reasons: First, that no one will
believe you; second, that no one will want to believe you. That's as near
as I care to put it. Your imagination will grasp it."
"Instantly!" cried the girl, hotly. "I knew you to be cold and hard, but I
did not believe you were a scoundrel--having known your son!"
"I have no son."
"Oh, yes, you have!"
"I disowned him. He is absolutely nothing to me."
"I do not believe that," came back through the cabin door.
"Nevertheless, it is the truth. The queer part is, I've tried to resurrect
the father instinct, and can't. I've tried to go round the wall--over it.
I might just as well try to climb the Upper Himalayas."
In Cabin Two the son stared at the white ceiling. It seemed to him that
all his vitals had been wrenched out of him, leaving him hollow, empty. He
knew his father's voice; it rang with truth.
"I offer you ten thousand."
"The key is still on the outside."
"I'm afraid to trust you."
"We understand each other perfectly," said Jane, ironically.
The son smiled. The sense of emptiness vanished, and there came into his
blood a warmth as sweet as it was strong. Jane Norman, angel of mercy. He
heard his father speaking again:
"Since you will have it so, you will go to Hong-Kong?"
"To Patagonia if you wish! You cannot scare me by threatening me with
travel on a private yacht. I had the beads, it is true; but at this moment
I haven't the slightest idea where they are; and if I had I should not
tell you. I refuse to buy my liberty; you will have to give it to me
without conditions."
"I'm sorry I haven't anything on board in shape of women's clothes, but
I'll send for your stuff if you wish."
"That is the single consideration you have shown me. My belongings are at
the American consulate, and I should be glad to have them."
"You will find paper and ink in the escritoire. Write me an order and I
promise to attend to the matter personally."
"And search through everything at your leisure!"
Cleigh blushed, and he heard his son chuckle again. He had certainly
caught a tartar--possibly two. With a twisted smile he recalled the old
yarn of the hunter who caught the bear by the tail. Willing to let go, and
daring not!
"Still I agree," continued the girl. "I want my own familiar things--if I
must take this forced voyage. But mark me, Mr. Cleigh, you will pay some
day! I'm not the clinging kind, and I shall fight you tooth and nail from
the first hour of my freedom. I'm not without friends."
"Never in this world!" came resonantly from Cabin Two.
Cleigh longed to get away. There was a rumbling and a threatening inside
of him that needed space--Gargantuan laughter. Not the clinging kind, this
girl! And the boy, walking straight at Dodge's villainous revolver! Why,
he would need the whole crew behind him when he liberated these two! But
he knew that the laughter striving for articulation was not the kind heard
in Elysian fields!