pleased with the temples."
"Much," Taberman assured him. "They are magnificent."
Seeing his companion fee the man, he in turn slipped a coin into the
brown hand. His conscience gave him a little twinge at the thought of
plotting to outwit this frank, big creature; but he reflected instantly
that the matter was entirely impersonal, and it was not in a
tariff-hating youth like Jerry to have any scruples over tricking the
Italian government in a matter of this sort.
"How long would it take you to sail down here from Naples?" asked
Wrenmarsh, as they took the road toward the station.
Tab considered.
"Five or six hours with a good breeze," was his conclusion.
Mr. Wrenmarsh wrinkled his brows and quickened his pace. Those
uncomfortable lines from the nostrils to the corners of his mouth
deepened, and he half shut his eyes. After a little meditation he spoke
again.
"Very good," he said decisively. "This is the way we'll put the thing
through. You go back to Naples now. Be off the shore here by eleven
o'clock, and send a boat ashore for me and my boxes. They're rather big,
and fairly heavy; and they've got to be handled tenderly. I couldn't get
proper means of packing the things, and I've had to take what there was.
Once we get the stuff on board, we must run back so as to be in Naples
by sunrise. Does that suit you?"
"You seem to be running this cruise," laughed Jerry. "I suppose it's all
right; but there's one thing I must know. There's no chance of getting
the yacht into a scrape, is there?"
"Oh, no danger whatever."
"You're sure?" Tab insisted. "It wouldn't be exactly pleasant to get my
friend's boat confiscated, you know, or into any sort of a mess of that
kind."
"Bosh!" retorted Mr. Wrenmarsh brusquely. "You may make your mind easy.
The worst that could happen is that I might lose my things. But we must
walk a bit faster, if you're to get your train."
"It's better to say to-morrow night," Tab remarked, as they took their
way down the road and beneath the old Roman arch. "You see I might be
late in getting back, and"--
"Of course, of course," interrupted the collector. "You can't count on
getting here to-night. To-morrow night, of course."
At the station the _capo_ was standing almost where Jerry had left him,
looking at the hills. When the two came up, he merely turned his head
and nodded.
"The _facchino_ must be doing ticket-duty," the collector remarked.
"We'll go in and get your ticket."
A tall, yellow, broken-looking man was behind the little wicket in the
ticket-office, puttering with some sort of repair work on a shelf. Mr.
Wrenmarsh addressed him in Italian. The man took a blue and green ticket
from a pigeon-hole on the wall, placed it under the stamp, on the knob
of which he then brought down his fist with a nervous bang. Instantly he
broke out into a violent exclamation.
"_Sacro sangue della Madonna!_" he shouted, and began to rave
hysterically.
"What's the matter?" asked Taberman. "What is he saying?"
"He is cursing quite well," returned the archæologist coolly. "His hand
was unsteady, and he's broken the stamp. He wants to know what will
become of him when the _capo_ finds the punch is broken."
"Is he tight?" inquired Jerry inelegantly.
"Oh, he's only bally-rotten with malaria. Look at his face."
"Tell him he ought to take some quinine," suggested Taberman, genuinely
sorry for the wretched-looking fellow.
Mr. Wrenmarsh interpreted, but the Italian replied in a tone of mingled
despair and contempt, and went out to show the broken punch to his
superior.
"What does he say?" asked Jerry.
"Says he took twenty-four grains this noon," answered Wrenmarsh,
chuckling as if it were funny.
"Gad!" exclaimed Tab. "No wonder his hand shook. What a country!"
"You say that?" returned the other. "You may remember that I'm tied to
it till I can get my things out."
They went out to the platform, and at the moment the train came in.
Jerry took his seat in an empty compartment, and the collector stood
outside the window.
"You'll surely come?" asked Mr. Wrenmarsh, in a voice almost
threatening.
"I can't see that I should," Taberman returned; "but wind and weather
permitting, I suppose I shall."
"I can't attempt to argue with you here," the other said; "but
mind--you'll come."
"_Pronto! Pronto!_" called the guard in his hoarse sing-song.
"I shall come," Jerry said reassuringly. "You may bet on it."
"_Partenza! Partenza!_" the guard bawled, blowing his horn.
"Good-by. Don't miss it!" cried Wrenmarsh, giving Jerry's hand a
farewell grip.
"To-morrow night," returned Taberman.
"I show a light," the collector vociferated, running along the platform
beside the now moving train, and repeating the details he had already
arranged. "A white light."
"Right-o!" shouted Taberman, as the train bore him beyond the reach of
further communication.
He threw himself back into the corner of the compartment, and all the
way to Naples he kept wondering over and over what there was about Mr.
Wrenmarsh that had induced him to promise to have a share in a scheme so
mad.
[Illustration: Decoration]
Chapter Eleven
A LONE-HAND GAME
On the morning after his return Jerry rose at an hour comfortably late,
took a swim, shaved, and having finished his breakfast, sat down to
write a short note to Jack. As the captain might put in an appearance at
any moment now, Taberman did not wish to go away from Naples without
leaving some explanation and a hint as to his whereabouts. He found the
letter somewhat difficult to write, since to give Jack a satisfactory
reason for his errand to Pæstum, especially in brief space, was no easy
task. He had been more or less troubled ever since his preposterous
promise to Mr. Wrenmarsh; but now that he was confronted with the
difficulty of making his course appear rational to Jack, he felt himself
so completely a fool that he groaned as he wrote, and then tore up the
note, with a curse. On the whole, he decided to say no more than that he
had gone to take a short run down the coast, as he was bored at Naples.
He went ashore with the note himself, and leaving the cutter at the
quay to wait for him, he set out on foot for the Hôtel du Vesuve, where
Jack was to report on his arrival. The morning was already well
advanced, and the heat was becoming fervent; but Jerry, freshened by his
recent swim, went blithely on his way. At the hotel he said to the
porter that he wished to leave a letter for a gentleman who was soon to
arrive, and produced his note. The official glanced at the
superscription, and observed that the traveler was already there.
Jerry stared at him dumfounded.
"Arrived?" he gasped. "When?"
"He came on the night train from Rome," replied the porter, whose
English was almost as good as that of Taberman. "He came on the train
that gets in at half-past eight in the morning. He is escorting two
ladies. They are now at breakfast."
Tab stood for a moment plunged in perplexity. This unexpected arrival of
Jack made his scheme of aiding Wrenmarsh dreadfully difficult, and
perhaps even impossible. He felt himself pledged, however, and he
reflected that whatever were Jack's plans the captain would hardly
hinder him from keeping a promise which he had made on the strength of
the supposition that the Merle was to be in his hands a full month. Jack
had come back before his time, but Tab said to himself that this would
surely make no difference in his fulfilling his obligations to the
archæologist.
He asked for the breakfast party, and was shown into the carefully
shaded dining-room where they were seated. Hearty greetings followed,
and he sat and talked with them while they finished their repast.
All three looked a bit fagged. Even Mrs. Fairhew, accustomed as she was
to European travel of all sorts, had dark circles under her keen eyes.
She was dressed, not according to her wont in black, but in a soft gray
which well set off her brilliant complexion, so that in spite of the
look of fatigue she appeared much as she had when the travelers had met
at Nice. Jack was clad in a suit of white linen, with a collarless
jacket such as is worn by naval officers in hot climates. His hair had
been recently cut, and in such a manner as to cause each separate spike
along the parting to stand up in stiff defiance. Jerry politely told him
he looked more like a criminal than usual, but Miss Marchfield protested
rather indignantly. In Katrine Jerry seemed to detect more alteration
than in the others. Her air had grown more sedate, as if the widening
of her mental horizon had, even in these few weeks, given her a new
maturity and self-poise. The heat had perhaps told on her more than on
the others, but in spite of some appearance of fatigue she had an air of
joyous alertness which showed her buoyant and happy.
"How is it that you are here so soon?" Taberman asked, after a minute of
general talk. "I thought you'd be late, if anything."
"There was a good deal of sickness at Rome," Jack answered, "and when a
man died of typhoid fever in the very hotel we were at, it seemed time
to move on."
Mrs. Fairhew gave a little shudder.
"Only fancy," she said,--"we knew nothing about it until he had been
dead an hour. They told us after breakfast yesterday morning. It was
rather unpleasant, you'll grant."
"It must have been ghastly," agreed Tab, "but I hope you'll do better in
Naples. It has at least the advantage of being on the sea."
"And of being one of the dirtiest places in Italy," she responded
grimly. "However, I'm not one to borrow trouble, and we'll trust in the
sea air."
"You're really becoming amphibious, Mr. Taberman," Katrine observed,
with a smile. "I half fancy that if you were blindfolded you could
smell your way to the water like a turtle."
"The man that piloted the Merle from North Haven to the Island said he
went by smell," responded Jerry.
He caught Jack's eye as he spoke, and cast down his glance in confusion.
Mrs. Fairhew regarded him curiously.
"How did Mr. Drake like that sort of a pilot?" she asked.
"He didn't hear the remark," Jack put in hastily. "Uncle Randolph
wouldn't have approved of that sort of work, I rather fancy."
Jerry made a grimace, and echoed the sentiment, but he added that Dave
was really an excellent sailor, and that personally he'd trust the
fellow's sense of smell sooner than he would the skill of most pilots.
The dangerous moment passed without further allusion to the President,
and the talk turned to other matters.
"Is there any one here we know?" inquired Mrs. Fairhew. "I suppose it is
hardly possible at this time of year."
"I don't believe there is," answered Tab, "unless," he added, a sudden
thought striking him, "you know where Pæstum is?"
"Certainly. I've been looking forward with dread to dragging Katrine
down there to see the temples, though really the time of year ought to
excuse us."
"Well, there's a sort of Anglo-American lunatic archæologist down there,
named Wrenmarsh. Have you ever heard of him? He has relatives in Boston,
I understood him."
Mrs. Fairhew set down the coffee-cup she was just raising to her lips,
and looked at Jerry with a keen glance in which amusement and surprise
seemed to be mingled.
"What is his Christian name?" she asked.
"Gordon."
"Gordon Wrenmarsh at Pæstum! Well, the world is small, and he might be
anywhere,--at least anywhere where he was not expected to be. Did you
never hear of him? But no, you wouldn't; you're too young. He is one of
my contemporaries, and he has been on this side of the water for ever so
long."
"Is it possible?" Jerry cried gallantly. "I shouldn't have suspected
that he was so young!"
"Nobody can mistake you when you wish to pay a compliment," she said,
with a smile that had in it a tinge of satire. "But did you really see
Gordon Wrenmarsh? I haven't heard of him for years. What is he doing? At
one time he was a friend of Mr. Fairhew; they were in the same class at
Harvard."
She showed a genuine interest, Jerry thought; and at any rate this
seemed to him a good time to prepare Jack for the plan evolved between
him and the archæologist, so he launched forth on the narrative of his
visit to Pæstum. He did not particularize, but he did not hesitate to
say that the archæologist had chanced upon a rich find which he was
guarding in the hope of running it safely out of the country.
"Why shouldn't he take it out of the country if he's bought it?" Katrine
asked, with an air of interest.
"The Italian law says he shan't," Jack answered, with a smile.
"Why, if it's his, he has a right to do what he pleases, I should
think," she responded.
"But there's a law against carrying works of art out of the country."
"What a horrid, unjust law!" she protested. "If they were mine, I'd take
them out; you may be sure of that."
"I'd help you," Jack assured her lightly.
Jerry was secretly so pleased at this passage that he endeavored to keep
the conversation in the same line by inquiring of Mrs. Fairhew further
particulars about the strange creature with whom he had made tryst.
"Was Mr. Wrenmarsh always as peculiar as he is now?" he asked.
"I'm not able to tell you that," she returned, "as I have no means of
knowing how much he has changed; but when I knew him he was the most
extraordinary creature. He was always offended if people didn't notice
his eccentricities, and if they did he jibed at their provincialism. He
said he had to become an Englishman because our civilization was so
crude, and he never forgave Bostonians for being so little concerned by
his change of nationality."
"You seem to have picked up rather a choice acquaintance, Jerry,"
observed Jack good-naturedly.
"Oh, Mr. Wrenmarsh became utterly impossible," Mrs. Fairhew continued.
"He really had a lot of ability, and I'm told that now he's done some
remarkable things in getting antiques for the British Museum. His own
people couldn't get on with him at all."
"What an extraordinary creature he must be!" commented Katrine. "Did you
take him for a wild man, Mr. Taberman, when you found him wandering
about among the ruins of Pæstum?"
"No," Jerry returned, rather regretting that he had continued the talk
about Mr. Wrenmarsh. "He came into the little hovel of an inn there
while I was trying to get something to eat."
"Well, anyway I hope he'll get his things safe," she added. "They're
his, and the government has no right to interfere with him."
"I hope he may," Tab responded rather dispiritedly.
Breakfast being ended, the ladies betook themselves to their rooms to
rest after the fatigues of their night of travel.
"If I were a billionaire," Mrs. Fairhew observed, "I would never go
anywhere by night except on my own private car. All sleepers are an
abomination, and I hate the thought of who may have been in the
compartment when I have to sleep in it. I hope we shall see you at
dinner, Mr. Taberman?"
"Thank you," Jerry answered, "but I have business to-night. I assure you
I regret it tremendously."
"Well," the lady returned over her shoulder as she departed, "at least
we shall expect to see you to-morrow; and I hope you'll leave us Mr.
Castleport.
"Glad to," laughed Jerry, with a nod; and the men were left to
themselves.
Jerry turned quickly to Jack the moment they were alone, with a look of
earnestness and concern in his face.
"Cap'n," he said urgently, "come somewhere where we can talk, will you?
We've got heaps to say, and my time's precious."
"Jerry," cried the other, catching him by the arm, "something has
happened to the Merle!"
"Not a thing, Jacko. She is as right as a trivet, but I'm in a hurry.
Come on!"
"Hurry?" echoed Jack, following him in evident disquiet; "what in the
world's up? It can't be mutiny, and if the yacht's all right, I don't
see"--
"I'll explain," Taberman responded. "I know a jolly little place just
round the corner. Come on."
Jack suffered himself to be led to a small café which bore the rather
incongruously ambitious name _Albergo del Sole_, and which displayed on
the yellowish wall above its entrance a rising sun, blood-red and most
magnificent as to its rays. At one of the little tables which covered
the sidewalk before this establishment, the pair took their places. Tab
produced his cigarette-case and ordered a glass of vermouth as he
offered his friend a smoke. Jack, with a hardly perceptible compression
of the lips which showed that he was controlling his impatience and
waiting for Tab to speak, rolled his cigarette between his thumb and
forefinger to loosen it, tapped it on the table-top, and lighted it with
great deliberation. Jerry did the same, but with evident nervousness.
"Jack," said he, "I have been, and gone, and done it, for fair!"
"What?" inquired Jack in a tone mildly incisive.
"Well, you see--it's this way," Tab answered. "Of course I haven't
really done anything yet, but I think I'm bound to, and if you don't
think so--Well, you can see it'll be devilish hard on me as well as
him."
Jack blew a smoke-ring, and looked at Jerry with a queer smile.
"It must be something pretty bad, Jerry," he said, "if you don't dare
tell me what it is."
Jerry looked at him a minute, and then broke into a grin.
"Why," he said, more at his ease, "it's that damned archæologist, that
bedlamite Wrenmarsh I was talking about at the hotel. Well, not having
anything else to do, I went down to Pæstum to see the temples and kill
time, and I fell into his clutches. I had a lot of talk with him, or he
did with me. He knows a pile about the temples, and he did the showman
in great shape. Incidentally he told me all about his own affairs. I
didn't ask him, mind you. He just did it off his own bat. I couldn't
help that, now could I?"
"I don't see how you could," Jack assented; "and no more do I see why
you should want to."
"Why, a chap down there--a Dago peasant, you know--has turned up a
dreadful mess of stuff Wrenmarsh has bought. I told you all that at
breakfast."
"Yes," Jack said imperturbably.
"You see, Wrenmarsh turned to and bought the whole slithering lot of it,
and he's just crazy over it; but as I said at the hotel, he's up against
the government, and he doesn't know how under the heavens he's going to
get the loot out of Italy."
"Great Scott, Tab, did you undertake to run his things out of the
country for him? In the Merle, too?" cried Jack, at last showing some
consternation.
"It's not quite so bad as that," Jerry protested; "but I did tell him
I'd help him out of Pæstum and up here. Naples is all I agreed to.
That's all he asked."
Castleport smoked in silence a moment, looking decidedly grave.
"Jack, old man," Jerry said pleadingly, "I've been an awful ass, but the
way that beastly Wrenmarsh snarled me up with his talk was perfectly
inconceivable. He'd have talked the tail off a brass monkey. He kept
appealing to my sense of honor and heaven knows what, until I felt that
I'd be a perfect cad not to help him."
"That's all right, Tab," Jack answered thoughtfully. "It's only the
Merle--I should hate awfully to get her into a mess."
"He assured me that nothing could happen to her, and I don't think he'd
lie."
"Well, if that's so, there's no great harm done, old man. What are you
worrying over?"
"I'm not worrying at all, Jacko, if you don't object to my keeping my
word. Just continue my letters of marque until to-morrow. I promised him
I'd go down this afternoon. You will be in command, of course, now
you're here; but I'd hate to think of the poor wretch waiting down there
in the marshes for me--it's an awful place for malaria!--and I not
coming at all."
"Oh, I shan't interfere," Jack said quickly. "I had made up my mind to
stay on shore one night more anyway, and I really gave you the yacht
till the twentieth. You shall run this thing yourself; but, by Jove, to
think of Uncle Randolph's Merle in business like that!"
"We started out to be pirates anyway," laughed Jerry, "and we haven't
lived up to our reputation so far. Well, I'll try it. I shall be rid of
the beggar by ten o'clock to-morrow, wind and weather permitting. It's
awful good of you, old man. I thought you'd think I was a bally-ass to
let myself be bamboozled that way; but when he was talking to me I felt
as if he was being awfully bully-ragged, and I ought to help him out."
"Of course," was Jack's response. "Didn't you notice how Katrine had
exactly the same feeling, just from your telling about it?"
Tab felt like winking to himself, but he preserved a grave countenance,
and only asked,--
"What will you tell Mrs. Fairhew about the Merle's being away?"
"Oh, that 's simple enough. I'll tell her you wanted to visit Pæstum
again, and you can say afterward that you ran across Wrenmarsh and
brought him up to Naples. Twig it?"
"Clear as a bell. Come down and see me off."
He sprang from his chair with animation, greatly relieved that the
captain had not prevented him from carrying out his plan. As Jack rose
also, Jerry laid his hand affectionately on his shoulder.
"It's awfully good of you, old man," he said.
"Nonsense. It's a mighty little thing to do for you, when you came
across the Atlantic for me."
"Oh, rats!" Tab rejoined inelegantly. "I came for the fun of it."
They paid the reckoning, and made their way to the quay, where for an
hour and a half the boat had been waiting for Jerry. The men were
lolling about in the stray corners of shade available, smoking and
sleepily exchanging occasional remarks; but at the sight of the captain
they woke up at once.
"Here's the skipper," cried one, jumping to his feet and saluting.
The others followed his example with alacrity, and Jack could not but be
gratified by the unmistakable pleasure they showed at seeing him again.
"How are you, boys?" he said cheerily. "Glad to see you all. You seem to
be in fighting trim, the whole lot of you."
"We're bang up, sir," responded Dave, with a grin. "'Tain't the kind o'
weather we left home in, sir."
"Not exactly," Jack responded laughingly, as he took his place in the
stern-sheets; "but I hope you don't miss the fog too much. Oars!"
Jack stayed on the Merle for an hour and a half, reading the log and
exchanging with Jerry all the news that either could rake up. Gonzague
made errands into the cabin evidently for the purpose of feasting his
eyes on his master, and beamed with delight at every word Castleport
spoke to him. When the old man found that the captain had not come to
remain, he looked so doleful that Castleport rallied him about not
liking Tab as a skipper.
"Eet ees not dat," Gonzague responded, with eloquent hands and
shoulders; "he ees fine as de seelk, but--but Mistaire Taberman he ees
not zee capataine you."
Jerry was anxious to make an early start for Pæstum, as the wind was
light, so Jack took his leave with hearty wishes for a prosperous run.
Jerry went with him to the steps.
"By the way, Jack," he asked in an undertone, as the captain was about
to descend to take his place in the cutter, "are congratulations in
order?"
Castleport looked away from his friend toward where, across the bay, in
a dim haze of purple, stood Capri. Then he glanced quickly into Jerry's
eyes.
"I--I haven't said anything to her," he answered simply.
He ran down the steps to the cutter. Gonzague himself had taken the
boat-hook to hold the craft steady. Castleport put his hand kindly on
the old man's shoulder.
"Good-by, Gonzague," he said. "I'm coming aboard for keeps to-morrow.
Good-by, Jerry."
"Good-by, and--good luck," called Tab in reply, as the cutter started
away.
It lacked a quarter of an hour to twelve that night when the Merle hove
to a cable's length off Pæstum. The wind had freshened at sundown, and
was blowing a smart breeze from the west. Jerry had the cutter lowered,
and, leaving Gonzague in charge, with stringent orders to keep the yacht
lying where she was, had himself pulled toward the shore. The men had no
notion what was going on, but they obeyed orders with a prompt alacrity
which showed that they felt that something of unusual import was in this
business. When the cutter was within about a hundred feet of the shore,
Tab ordered the men to lie on their oars, and keep watch for a light. In
silence and utter darkness, for though the stars were shining there was
no moon, they tossed about in the black troughs of the sea for twenty
minutes. Then Dave uttered a guarded exclamation.
"There's a light, sir," he said. "See, there it is again."
"Lay her head for it, and pull!" commanded Jerry, feeling as if he were
in a pirate novel. "No noise, mind!"