THE END OF THE TRAIL.
When the first boat is alongside the America, Barker is the first man to
clamber to the deck, and the first individual he gets his eye on is Jack
Ashley.
“Hello! Well met,” remarks that young man, extending his hand. “I was
expecting you any minute.”
Barker gives Jack’s hand a perfunctory clasp and passes on with a gruff
“Hello!”
“I am not yet forgiven. I see,” thinks Ashley, as he turns to the rest
of the party coming aboard. He greets Miss Hathaway warmly and Van Zandt
genially, and grips Navarro’s hand with a pressure of strong friendship.
There is no present opportunity for mutual explanations, as a serious
interruption is apparent in the shape of a boat that has put out from
the Spanish man-of-war and is rapidly approaching the America.
With a shade of anxiety the people of the Semiramis await the arrival of
the boat. They note the preparations to receive with due honor the
representative of the Infanta Isabel, the marines drawn up in double
file beside the gangway, the officers of the America in position on the
quarter-deck. But there is no time for speculation or conjecture. Eight
pairs of dripping oars are simultaneously raised, the boat glides softly
to the side of the cruiser, and a moment later the Spanish officer is
bowing profoundly to the commander of the America.
His excellency, Admiral Sanchez of his majesty’s man-of-war Infanta
Isabel, presents his compliments to the commander of the United States
cruiser America and begs to say that the passengers, officers and crew
of the steamer just sunk, who have sought asylum on the American vessel,
are rebels, in arms against his majesty the king of Spain; that their
vessel, just sunk, has within the last three hours destroyed the royal
Spanish dispatch boat Pizarro. Wherefore his excellency respectfully
asks that the said officers, passengers and crew of the rebel ship be
delivered to the representative of her majesty’s ship Infanta Isabel as
prisoners of war.
Captain Meade listens patiently while the Spanish officer delivers his
message, his brow knitting slightly at the reference to the destruction
of the dispatch boat. Then he turns to Captain Beals:
“What have you to say to this statement and why were you flying the
American flag, if you were in command of an insurgent vessel?”
“We are not insurgents and we did not destroy the dispatch boat,” is the
reply. “The pleasure yacht Semiramis of New York, Van Zandt owner, was
in collision with the Pizarro in the harbor of Santiago. The Pizarro
stood directly in our course, notwithstanding our signals that we
proposed to pass to port. We should have gone aground if we had not
fouled her. We did not stop, as the Semiramis was badly stove and
subsequently sunk, as you have seen. Further, our officers and crew and
the passengers are without exception American citizens. As such, I
appeal to the commander of an American vessel for protection.”
“And you shall have it,” murmurs Captain Meade under his breath. To the
Spaniard he says: “Present my compliments to his excellency, Admiral
Sanchez, and say that the commander of the America finds upon
investigation that the officers and crew of the late steamer Semiramis
are American citizens, who claim the protection of the American flag;
that her captain and officers maintain that the destruction of the
Pizarro was an accident for which they are in no wise responsible.
Therefore I am constrained to decline to grant the courteous request of
his excellency.”
The Spanish officer bows respectfully and continues: “His excellency
also desired to convey to the commander of the United States cruiser
America the information that among the persons lately on board the
sunken steamer was one Cuban rebel, denominated El Terredo, whom his
excellency has every reason to believe has sought refuge on board this
ship. He respectfully requests that said El Terredo be delivered to the
representative of his majesty’s ship.”
Captain Meade’s eye strays over the little group, but before he can
speak Navarro steps forward and says in English: “I have been designated
as El Terredo, but I am an American citizen.”
“I can testify to that statement,” supplements Ashley.
Captain Meade waves his hand. “That is sufficient. Inform his excellency
that all of the persons picked up in the boats from the lost steamer are
American citizens. As such, I cannot surrender them.”
Again the officer bows, and his errand performed, he salutes and returns
to the boat. What will be the effect of his report? Will Admiral Sanchez
resent with force Captain Meade’s decision, or will he gracefully bow to
the inevitable? The latter apparently, for a few moments after the
officer ascends the side of the man-of-war the Spanish flag is dipped in
salute to the America and the Infanta Isabel steams slowly back in the
direction of Santiago.
“Again is Providence on the side of the heaviest guns,” murmurs Ashley,
as he walks over to where Barker is leaning against the rail, and claps
him on the back. “John, I am powerful glad to see you,” he declares
heartily.
“I don’t know whether I can say the same or not,” rejoins the detective,
sulkily. “For a man whose infernal meddling with affairs that did not
concern him nearly cost me my life, you appear pretty cool and
unconcerned.”
“My dear friend,” says Ashley, “if I had not been at Jibana half a dozen
days ago you would never have forgiven yourself for the part you played
as a soldier of Castile. Do you know who Don Carlos was?”
“I know he, or she, was a woman.”
“Oh, you do?”
“Yes; and if you had shown yourself after the scrimmage, instead of
sneaking off to Santiago, I might have told you of my discovery.”
“Ungrateful wretch!” cries Ashley in mock reproach. “I admit that I got
you into the scrape, but I also got you out of it. The fiery El Terredo
would have strung you to a telegraph pole had I not begged for your life
and liberty. Yes; Don Carlos was a woman, and she was Helen Hathaway.”
“Then El Terredo?” marvels the detective, who is beginning to see
daylight.
“Was Derrick Ames, of course. Anyone except a detective would have
discovered that long ago.”
“Indeed,” retorts Barker. “When did you find it out?”
“Early this morning,” laughs Ashley. “But let us be serious. Where are
the Feltons, father and son?”
“One dead, and the other perhaps so,” replies Barker, and he tells
Ashley the story of an exciting day at Santiago.
“It must be done,” the detective is saying, concluding his narrative.
“Your sympathies naturally stand in the way, so I will relieve you of
all active participation in the affair. All you will have to do is to be
a silent witness. One thing you must do, though. You must see Mrs. Ames
and have her pledge that she will not let her husband know that she has
told you her story. I must handle the affair gently, as Ames is as
flashy as gunpowder. You will see Helen, then?”
“Yes; I will fix it immediately. When do you occupy the center of the
stage?”
“To-morrow. I will let you know in due season.”
“All right, old chap. I will be glad when it is all over. So long.”
There are many happy hearts on the America this night. The meeting
between the sisters, Helen and Louise, was a dramatic one, and after
affectionate confidences had been exchanged each sought the man she
loved best.
But a shadow of sadness hovers about the four as they sit on the
quarter-deck and watch the big white moon rise out of the sea. Now that
all the excitement is over Van Zandt has dropped back into his old
reserve, and the consciousness of his odd relations to Louise Hathaway
reverts to him with unpleasant keenness. Ames is moody and abstracted
and only the incessant flow of spirits of Jack Ashley, who joins the
group with Juanita, keeps the little party alive.
But bedtime comes early, for everyone is thoroughly tired, and the party
disperses with many a fervent “Good-night, and pleasant dreams.”
And as Van Zandt prepares to go below he feels a touch on his arm and
turns to see John Barker. “Mr. Van Zandt, will you grant me a few
minutes before you retire?” requests the detective.
“Certainly,” is the reply. “Come to my stateroom.”
Ashley rises early the next morning and as he smokes his after-breakfast
cigar Barker joins him.
“I shall want you at ten o’clock, promptly,” says the detective. “Meet
me in the private cabin, or whatever it is called on shipboard. I have
secured exclusive use of it for an hour.”
“Very well,” replies Jack, abstractedly.
Promptly at ten, Ashley repairs below, and as he enters the cabin he
finds Ames and Van Zandt there. They look at him questioningly, but
before he has opportunity to say more than “Good-morning,” Barker
enters, closes the door and locks it.
Ames flushes angrily. “So,” he says, “it is at your request that I am
here?”
“It is,” replies the detective, calmly.
“What do you mean, sir, by inviting me to this place and locking the
door upon me?”
“I simply do not wish to be disturbed,” is Barker’s unruffled response.
“The cruiser America is now United States territory. I have business
with you, Mr. Ames. Gentlemen, will you not be seated?”
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