THE LAWYER AND THE PIRATE
The contrast between the two men as they sat facing each other was
really dramatic; the rough hewn captain, in his countrified garb, and
the city man correct in dress and quiet in manner; but as to which was
the most dangerous villain it would be hard to decide off hand.
Mr. William Howard Reynolds was primarily a lawyer, but he was likewise
agent and adviser for several organizations whose aims were not high but
very direct. He had been of aid to Captain Broome several times before,
had smoothed over several unfortunate affairs with the local authorities
on behalf of his client and had been liberally rewarded for so doing.
Where finesse and criminal adroitness were concerned he was of the
greatest use to the captain of the _Sea Eagle_.
It was doubtful if he had ever been engaged in a more nefarious scheme
than he had in hand upon this particular occasion. As he sits facing the
captain with the light slanting across his face let us take a square
look at this man, so that we shall be able to recognize him if we
should chance to meet him again.
As has been said he was well attired, and with his light weight overcoat
off, he is seen to be dressed in a dark cut-a-way coat with a white vest
according to the custom of that remote time. He wore upon the forefinger
of his left hand a peculiar serpent ring, whose ruby eyes seemed really
to glow in the light. He used this ring finger on occasion to drive home
a convincing argument.
His own dark, close set eyes always followed the line of this gesture
with telling effect. It was these eyes together with a cruel mouth, at
one corner of which lurked a treacherous sneer, that showed the true
character of the individual, for aside from these two features his face
was not an unpleasant one. The forehead was high and well developed, the
chin square and masculine. The wiry, but carefully brushed hair was
already becoming gray around the temples. So much for Mr. William H.
Reynolds, so far as his mental and physical photograph goes.
"Well, Captain Broome," he said, leaning forward with the weight of his
hands upon the arms of the chair, "what is your scheme in this
business?"
"I haven't any, Mr. Reynolds," replied the captain mildly; "you know
that I am a plain man, just a simple, seafaring old codger and am
greatly afeared of being shanghaied ashore by some of the villains that
reside there."
The lawyer threw back his head and laughed harshly.
"I've noticed that it is the plain, farmer looking chap, that's the
deepest often," he said, "but I know that you didn't invite me out to
your yacht for afternoon tea. Let's get down to business."
"As I said, I ain't got a scheme, but I'll give you the facts and let
you hatch the scheme." There was an unconscious contempt in the
captain's voice, which the keen lawyer was quick to recognize, but did
not care to resent. His client was too valuable to risk a breach with,
so he merely tightened his jaws, and waited for the captain to begin.
At this juncture in the interview the captain got up quickly from the
locker on which he had been seated. The motion was so sudden and
menacing that the lawyer plunged his hand into the black bag on the
table. Broome, if he noticed this action, gave no sign but crouched
noiselessly to the door, opened it suddenly and rushed out upon the
deck.
There was the sound of a low growl as of an uncaged animal, then a
scuffling sound followed by a thud. In a moment the old pirate returned
to his cabin, shut the door, and sat down as if nothing had happened, as
indeed was the fact according to his idea of things. Meanwhile Cales,
the sailor, who chanced to be cleaning the deck not far from the
captain's cabin, picked himself up from the scuppers, whence he had been
flung by Broome. He was bleeding and dazed, but not so dazed but what he
could heap maledictions upon the head of his superior officer. Even in
his wrath, however, he did not dare to speak above a hoarse whisper. The
lawyer surmised what had happened but he made no comment as his genial
client sat himself down again upon the sea chest.
"These are the facts, Mr. Reynolds, and I'll be brief because it is my
nature." The captain leaned forward heavily on his knees, and spoke in
harsh confidence to his attorney, or rather agent, who listened
intently, but with an inscrutable face. "There's a rich Mexican with a
Spanish name, Señor da Cordova, over in the city right now and he has
been trying to make a dicker with me to get hold of my yacht. He's
interested in helping those Cuban niggers who are fighting the
Spaniards and he thinks this yere boat might come in handy in the
business, and she would, too; there's nothing faster sailing these
waters anyhow."
"He's coming a long ways around to get his cruiser," remarked the lawyer
coolly.
"The other side is watched, and it ain't easy to pick up the right kind
of craft anyway, without payin' a ransom, and this old Dick wants to
drive a hard bargain, says it is a good cause and all that, but I ain't
got no interest in those Cuban niggers."
"I follow you," said the lawyer, "but that isn't what you wanted me to
help with."
He knew his client thoroughly.
"You're right it ain't," replied the captain with emphasis; "I made the
contract to carry the shooting irons and we are loaded ready to sail,
but the Señor's got a gal."
The lawyer looked keenly at his client.
"It's a case of kidnaping, then," remarked the lawyer with as much
unconcern as if referring to an attack of measles.
"Yer have the right idea, Mr. Reynold's," said the candid mariner; "the
gal's daddy sets a heap of store by her, and he'll pay something
handsome to git her back, more than he would for this steam yacht of
mine, twice over."
"Tell me how the land lies, Captain, then I'll give you my terms."
Captain Broome speaking in a low, growling voice, gave him the necessary
details, and then with his bushy eyebrows knitted together he watched
the other man with grim intentness. Mr. William H. Reynolds sat for some
time with his head thrown back and half-closed eyes, gazing upward at
the ceiling, and then he began to whistle softly with a slight hissing
sound.
"It's the devil in him getting up steam," mused Broome; "he sees his way
through all right."
Indeed he did, but he did not inform his valued client that he was well
acquainted with the agent of the Cuban insurgents, who had come West to
meet the Señor da Cordova, for he had no intention of belittling the
difficulty of the task assigned him.
"How much?" inquired Captain Broome, in a noncommittal voice. These two
wasted no time on formalities, they had been in too many transactions
for that. By way of reply, the lawyer held up five fingers. Immediately
the Yankee master put up three and a half by doubling his little finger,
but the attorney remained firm.
"You'll get ten thousand out of this, you old reprobate," he said
frankly, "and I take the risk. Take it or leave it, I've got some other
matters to attend to immediately."
The captain grunted, he hated to pay, especially without a long
bargaining, but he knew his friend well enough to realize that it was a
waste of valuable time, and that one might just as well try to bargain
with a graven image. Slowly he drew out a leather pouch from his
capacious pants' pocket and opening it placed--How many twenty dollar
gold pieces, Reader, to make five hundred dollars? Well, Tom, what is
it? "Fifteen." You Johnny? "Twenty-five." Quite right.
They made a brave sight piled up in the light upon the table, but they
did not stay in evidence very long for after noting each one carefully,
he put it in the black bag, until they were all properly shepherded.
"Would you like to have this business finished to-day, Captain?"
inquired the lawyer.
"You're right, I would," said Broome with emphasis.
"Make it a thousand, and I'll guarantee to do it," replied the lawyer.
The captain's jaw fell.
"It is worth it, for the risk is double," returned the lawyer.
"I haven't anything like it with me," declared the captain. "I'm no gold
mine."
"Give me your note then," said Reynolds, "payable in fifteen days."
"I tell you what I will do, Mr. Reynolds, I'll make it for three
hundred; and more I can't do."
"Agreed," said the lawyer.
"Have a drink on it," urged the captain, hospitably, and feeling fairly
well satisfied with his bargain.
"No time for that," replied the lawyer abruptly; "you'll be at the
castle not later than ten and I'll make my part of the contract good.
Tell those niggers of yours to dig in and row some going back."
The captain evidently gave them sound instructions, because they made
record time, cutting through the fog at a slashing gait.