I RECEIVE AN INVITATION
Garth appeared to be a seaman of no mean order. With the charts spread
out before them he and the skipper promptly became immersed in a maze
of technicalities. My ignorance of matters nautical is abysmal; and I
listened in some bewilderment to talk of winds and tides and channels,
of soundings and of reefs. I can reconstruct the scene now--the
prelude to so many strange adventures!--as the three of us pored over
the chart; the long, low chart-house with its clean smell of paint, the
holland sun-blinds rattling smartly in the breeze which blew in through
the open port-holes, Garth in his loose tussore suit, with his eager
face and keen eyes, a fragrant cigar thrust in his mouth, Lawless,
rather awed by the other and consequently a trifle formal, stubbing the
chart with a huge and podgy thumb.
When they pulled down the big orange-coloured volume of "Sailing
Directions" for the Eastern Pacific and opened the page at Cock Island,
I could better follow them.
"'The island is mountainous,'" Garth read out in his pleasant, deep
voice, "'and entirely volcanic, rising to several peaks, of which the
highest reaches 2,856 feet. These peaks are probably volcanoes, but
the interior is unexplored and almost impenetrable owing to its steep,
rugged and often precipitous nature, the many rushing streams and the
dense vegetation. There are small areas of comparatively level ground
surrounding Sturt and Horseshoe Bays....'"
He turned the page and skipped a mass of detail.
"'There are only two harbours,'" he read, "'Sturt and Horseshoe Bays.
Horseshoe Bay is larger than Sturt Bay but is less sheltered, as it
opens to the west and so has a heavy swell during the early months of
the year. Moreover, the slopes surrounding the bay are much more
abrupt and the area of level land in its neighbourhood is much less
considerable.'"
Adams, I recollected, had spoken of the man Dutchey and himself coming
upon the grave in a clearing in the undergrowth close to the shore. He
had mentioned, too, that their ship's boat had had to find a way in
through the bar. It looked to me, therefore, as though they had landed
in Horseshoe Bay where the upward slopes began closer to the shore than
in Sturt Bay.
We read on. The island, it seemed, had never had any permanent
population. It was "the resort of buccaneers in the seventeenth
century, and later was a watering-place for whalers." It had "little
animal life"; but there were wild pigs, descendants of those left by
Captain Martin of the frigate _Rover_ in 1774, and rats, introduced by
calling ships. Mention had been made, we were told, by various
explorers of huge carved images reputed to exist in the interior of the
island, similar to those for which Easter Island is famous; but there
was no certain knowledge of their existence.
There were a lot of particulars about attempts to colonise the island,
of stray parties of mariners who had landed, with the intention of
settling there; but in a year or two had gone away in a passing ship or
died off. And there was a string of names, British and foreign, of
naval men or of explorers who, landing to fill up with water or to kill
some fresh meat, had jotted down a few observations about the island
and then sailed away again across the boundless Pacific.
"And now, Okewood," said Garth pleasantly, "you and I and all of us,
you know, are merely passengers on the high seas of Captain Lawless
here, and with your permission I propose that we should tell him who
you are and what you have just confided to me. You have no objection,
I take it?"
"None whatever," said I.
"Then tell him yourself!" urged Garth, dropping on to the leather
settee. So, sitting between the two on the softly padded seat, I
unfolded my plan while the yacht gently swayed at her moorings, and the
awnings without cracked like a whip in the breeze.
When I had finished, Garth said:
"You'll agree, I'm sure, that we can spare a week!"
"I'm entirely in your hands, Sir Alexander!" returned the captain.
"But there is one condition I should like to make, and that is that
this matter remains strictly between us three. I have a very decent
lot of men as crew, Sir Alexander, hard-working, reliable chaps and
every one personally known to me for years. I'd go so far as to say
you've got the pick of the Solent in the _Naomi_. But this isn't a
man-o'-war, gentlemen, nor yet even a merchant vessel. In a pleasure
yacht like this there isn't rightly speaking the discipline that you'd
find in either, and, to be plain-spoken, I don't want the major here to
go upsetting the men with his treasure tales. Lay off at Cock Island,
go ashore by all means, and have a 'look see' but don't, for God's
sake, blab about it or you'll rot the finest crew that ever shipped!
Let's keep this thing to ourselves; indeed, I'll go further than that.
Leave me out of it! Then the men, should they hear anything, can't say
that I'm in it while they are not! And to tell you the truth,
gentlemen, I've had a strict upbringing, my people being chapel-goers,
and I was taught to believe that no blessing rests on money that we
have not earned with the sweat of our brow and the work of our strong
right hand. You two gentlemen take your week ashore and I'll look
after the ship!"
Garth turned to me.
"I don't want to leave Captain Lawless out," he said, "but I can't help
feeling he's right about the crew!"
"And about everybody else on board, Sir Alexander!" Lawless broke in.
"You mean the women?"
"I mean _everybody_ else on board, just as I said, sir!" reiterated the
skipper very firmly and with meaning. "What's everybody's secret is
nobody's secret! Mum's the word or you'll have trouble! Mum's the
word, I say!"
"Well!" said Garth, "so be it! Mum's the word!"
Then came an unlooked-for interruption.
"Why 'mum'? What's the secret?"
A clear young voice rang out from the door. The three of us scrambled
hastily to our feet. On the threshold stood the girl of the smoke-room.
"Morning, Marjie!" said Garth.
He wore something of a hang-dog look. So did I, I think, as I did my
best to secrete myself behind them. I was wondering what the girl
would think of me when she discovered my involuntary deception.
Fortunately Lawless's huge frame completely obliterated me.
"What are you two talking secrets about?" she demanded bluntly. "And
why 'mum's the word'?"
Garth looked at Lawless and Lawless looked at Garth; but neither
answered her question. Then she looked at the skipper. His air
reminded me of a pickpocket caught red-handed.
"Good morning, Miss Garth!" he mumbled and made a stiff little bow.
That bow was my undoing; for the captain disclosed me behind him.
"Oh!" cried the girl with a little gurgle of amusement, "it's the
doctor! Well, did you take my advice?"
"Yes," I answered. Then, taking the plunge, I faltered:
"But I'm not the doctor...."
On that the girl coloured up a little. I knew what she was thinking of
and our eyes met. I felt relieved to see the glint of humour creep
into them.
Then Garth, who had turned to speak to the captain, broke in.
"I should have introduced you. Major, this is my daughter--Marjie,
Major Okewood, who is coming as far as Honolulu with us. Would you see
Carstairs about getting a cabin ready for him?"
With a graceful little nod to her father and a smile to me which had
its hidden meaning for us two alone, Marjorie Garth went out again on
to the sunlit deck. We three men plunged into our deliberations again
and when at length the gong sounded for luncheon we had evolved a rough
plan of campaign.
I told Garth quite frankly that the message found on the grave at Cock
Island was so far unintelligible to me that I had no certainty of ever
being able to decipher it. What I proposed to do, was to examine the
grave and the island generally to see whether I could find anything on
the spot to throw any light on the message. We arranged, therefore,
that in reaching Cock Island, Garth and I should take a camping outfit
and go ashore for a period not to exceed a week; that if at the end of
that time, my investigations had led to no result I should abandon the
enterprise and return with him to the yacht.
It was settled that we should sail that night, as soon as ever the
spare parts required by Mr. Mackay, the engineer, were aboard; for I
informed Garth of Bard's advice to me to make myself scarce without
delay. The captain reckoned that, taking things easy, we should make
Cock Island on the fifth day out. We finally decided to put ashore at
Horseshoe Bay, as both Lawless and Garth agreed with me that this
landing tallied best with the beach-comber's description.
As we crossed the deck to go down to the saloon the spare parts were
being hoisted into the yacht from a barge. A hard-faced little man
with a rasping Scottish accent, whom I took to be Mr. Mackay, the
engineer, was in charge of the operation which was accompanied by some
fine, full-flavoured swearing in broad Clydebank and a torrent of
epileptic Latin American blasphemy from various parties unseen in the
lighter. Small boats piled up to their thwarts with poultry, fruit,
vegetables and bread, were bobbing about in a wide semi-circle about
the yacht and the air rang with the shrill cries of the vendors.
As we passed the engineer the captain said: "You'll let none of this
scum aboard, Mr. Mackay!"
"But the steward was wishful...."
"I don't give a hoot for the steward. I'll have none of these Dagoes
aboard my ship. Have you got that clear?"
"Verra guid, sir!" replied the Scotsman resignedly.
I appreciated the skipper's motive and looked at him gratefully. I was
beginning to have an admiration for Captain Lawless. Besides being a
man of character he was plainly a person of quick perception.
It was now very hot. The pitch was soft in the seams of the deck and
the broken white line of the port buildings on shore swam in a tremor
of heat. It was a relief to escape from the dazzling sunlight into the
shaded seclusion of the saloon, where two purring electric fans kept
the atmosphere cool and ice tinkled melodiously in crystal jugs of
cider cup.
The girl Marjorie was already seated at the table. With her demurely
cropped brown hair gleaming golden where the sunshine touched it, her
serene beauty and her white dress, she reminded me of some Florentine
Madonna, the shining white port-hole like a halo framing her face
against a background of deep azure sky.
"'Le Medecin malgré Lui'!" she exclaimed as I came in, "come and sit by
me and tell me how you managed to captivate Daddy so completely! And I
promise," she added, smiling up at me deliciously, "that I won't ask
you for any more medical advice!"
The girl's attractive presence, the pleasant cool of the saloon, the
quiet efficient service made it difficult for me to realise that, only
a very few hours before, I had stumbled through blood into a dark and
perilous adventure. As I looked into Marjorie Garth's friendly grey
eyes, I found the present so attractive that it was no effort to me to
thrust into the background the enigma of the future.
My adventure, I decided, was opening under the most pleasant auspices.