UNDER WAY
The negro brought the girl's lunch on a tray, and I took it in to her,
barely pausing long enough to speak a few encouraging words, for fear
of some interruption. Then I sat down and watched while the remnants
of our meal were being removed. Except for an occasional footstep on
the deck above, and the swift movements of the steward, nothing
interrupted my thoughts. After Louis had carried the last dishes into
his pantry, and run the table up on its stanchions, he also
disappeared, and in the silence I could hear the heavy breathing of the
sleeping mate. For the first time I comprehended clearly the entire
situation, and I could face it with understanding. Broussard's anger
had served me well, and it never occurred to me to doubt this story,
told under the inspiration of liquor. It dovetailed in with all I
previously knew.
The facts were clear. Philip Henley was dead, killed while
intoxicated, either accidentally, or for purposes of robbery. And he
had been robbed when picked up by the police, nothing to identify him
being found. Beyond doubt this half-breed brother had dispatched a man
North to look him up--possibly to assassinate him if necessary. The
fellow had either done the job, or been anticipated in his purpose. In
either case he was present to identify the body, and had written at
once, enclosing the signet ring as proof. That was the same ring we
had round in the arbor, and which Viola had instantly recognized. And
those men who had made a tool of me were the robbers. They had found
papers and letters which opened before them this scheme of fraud; then,
with his residence address, using his keys, they had learned everything
necessary for the completion of their plans. A copy of the Judge's
will must have been in Henley's possession, and, no doubt, some
lawyer's letter, describing the situation, received since the departure
of his wife. Apparently everything two clever crooks needed to know
was in their possession. All they needed to do was pull the strings,
using a figurehead to represent Philip Henley. That was the part for
which I was chosen. They had to construct a lie in order to interest
me, yet that was comparatively easy, and there was a strong probability
of success but for peculiar conditions of which they could know
nothing. The half-breed had never been mentioned; he was the monkey
wrench thrown unexpectedly into their well-oiled machine. Yet, even
without him, the reappearance of Philip Henley's wife was sufficient to
cause disaster.
Philip Henley's wife! The magic of the words halted me. Then now, if
all I had learned was true, she was his widow. What would that mean to
me! The swift beating of my heart answered. As I sat there alone, in
the silence I forgot everything save her, and my mind dwelt upon every
word and look which had passed between us. These had been innocent
enough, and yet, to my imagination, stimulated by this discovery,
formed the basis of a dream of hope. I knew this, that however
sincerely she might have once supposed she loved Henley, his neglect,
cruelty, dissipation, had long ago driven all sentiment from her.
Before we met, her girlhood affection had been utterly crushed and
destroyed. Loyal, she was, and true to every tradition of her
womanhood. No audacity, no boldness, could penetrate her reserve, or
lower her self-respect. Before I knew who she was, when I had every
reason to doubt and to question, I was still restrained by an invisible
personality which kept me helpless. It was to guard his interest, not
her own, that she had accompanied me on this expedition, risking her
good name in the belief that he was unable to care for his own. What
would she do now? how would she feel toward me? What change would it
make in the friendly relationship between us? I longed to tell her,
and yet shrunk from the task. She could not fail to know how much I
cared; careful as I had been in word and action, yet a dozen times had
my eyes revealed the secret. I had seen her draw back from me, half
afraid, had her restrain me by a gesture, or a word. This could be
done no longer--we were free now, I to speak, she to listen, but I
could only guess the result. Back behind the rare depth of those eyes
her heart was hidden, and thus far I had probed for its secret in vain.
The sunlight streaming in through the upper transom told me the sun was
dipping into the west. If we were to get away when night came there
were many things to consider first; especially was I obsessed now with
a desire to overhaul the Captain's papers, and secure those which would
be of benefit. We must possess more proof than the garrulous talk of
the second mate, and surely that proof would be discovered in the after
cabin. The noise of the steward's dish-washing had ceased, and
cautious investigation discovered him sound asleep, curled up like a
dog, on the deck. Assured as to this, I ventured up the companion
stairs, and indulged in a glance forward. Except for a group of
sailors doing some sail patching in the shade of the charthouse, no one
was visible. The vessel rocked gently, and far forward there was a
sound of hammering. The mate would be there, overseeing the job
whatever it might be. There was a dark cloud overshadowing the eastern
horizon, with zigzag flashes of lightning showing along its edge, but
the sea was barely rippled. There was no sign of any boat along the
beach of the cove, and the fishermen had disappeared, not a glimmer of
white sail showing above the waters. Surely no better opportunity than
this could be given.
I stole back, silent and unobserved, listened an instant to Broussard's
steady breathing, then unlocked the Captain's door, and entered his
cabin. His wicked eyes, blazing with hate, glared at me as I
approached, and, inspired by some sudden feeling of sympathy, I bent
over, and removed the gag from his mouth. The result was an outburst
of profanity, bristling with threats, but these as instantly ceased as
I picked up the cloth again.
"It's just as you please," I said soberly. "Either lie quiet, or have
this back--it's up to you."
"Do you mean to kill me?"
"Not unless I have to, but I hold some things more valuable than your
life. Just at present I mean to look over your papers."
He must have realized I was beyond playing with, and impervious to
threats, for he lay quiet, but with glaring eyes following my every
movement, as I threw open the drawers of the desk, and began handling
their contents. For some time I discovered nothing of special
interest, only an accumulation of business letters, manifests and old
sea charts, showing that the _Sea Gull_ had been concerned in a vast
variety of enterprises. It was only after I had thus emptied the
unfastened drawers that I came upon one securely locked. I tried key
after key before discovering the right one, realizing from Henley's
squirming that I must be drawing near the goal. The first paper
touched was a copy of the will, and a little further rummaging put me
into possession of various documents which, I believed from a cursory
glance at their contents, were of utmost value. These I hastily
transferred to my coat pocket, making sure I had the original letter
descriptive of Philip Henley's death, as well as the copy of a
memorandum which the half-breed had evidently drawn up for the
convenience of his lawyers. I ran through this last swiftly, surprised
at its frankness, and convinced that the attorneys employed must be as
great rascals as the man who commanded their services. Evidently they
had requested full particulars so as to be prepared for any emergency.
I presume this search, swift as I endeavored to conduct it, occupied
fully a half hour, every nerve strained by fear of interruption.
However, I could not desist until I had handled every scrap of paper,
and the result well repaid the risk. Once I heard steps above on the
deck, but, so far as I knew, no one entered the outer cabin.
"I think I've got your number," I said finally, wheeling about to look
at him.
"You 've got to get away first," he sneered defiantly, "and you 'll not
find that so easy. My turn will come yet, you spy, and then you 'll
learn how I bite."
I laughed, feeling no mercy.
"All in good time, friend; I think you have had your innings; now it's
mine. So you are Charles Henley?"
He did not answer.
"The illegitimate son of Judge Henley and a negro mother. That's a
clever forgery, that paper of legal adoption, I admit. Must have had
legal advice for that. What did you pay the lawyers?"
He stared at me with compressed lips.
"Not ready to confess yet? Well, you will be. By the way, who was
that Pierre who wrote telling you of Philip's death? Not Vonique, was
it?"
"You damn white devil!" he burst forth, tortured beyond resistance.
"What do you know about him? Who told you?"
"You 'll learn it all soon enough."
"You 're a sneaking detective!"
"Oh, no, Henley; I 'm merely a man who drifted into this adventure
blindly, but now I am going to fight it out for sake of the woman.
It's a pity for you that you did n't tap me on the head a bit harder
back in the cellar."
His teeth ground together savagely, and he burst into a string of oaths.
"That's enough," and I got to my feet. "I see I 'll have to gag you
again."
"Where 's the steward?"
"Asleep in the pantry when I came in here."
"And Herman--has n't he got on board yet?"
"Oh, yes; two hours, or more, ago. He has the deck watch, while the
Creole is below. Anything else you desire explained?"
"You think you 're smart, but you 'll sing a different song before I 'm
through," he snarled. "I 'm hungry, and I want to know why that
Dutchman did n't come down here and report."
"You 'll have to stand the hunger for awhile. As to Herman, I suppose
he had nothing to tell. Well, I 've wasted time enough."
I replaced the gag, and took a survey of the cabin to make sure all was
secure. Uncomfortable as the man was, he was not in the slightest
danger, and I felt little tenderness. He would not remain long
undiscovered after we got away, and our only possible safety required
harsh methods. Nothing had occurred in the outer cabin during my
absence, but the growing shadows evidenced the approach of twilight.
In those waters night came quickly. Locking the Captain's door, I
entered my own stateroom, and sat down on the lower berth to wait,
leaving my door slightly ajar. The cabin grew constantly darker,
although outside, through the open port, I could still distinguish
gleams of light along the water surface, and the heights of the island.
Herman came down, and entered his stateroom, but without closing the
door. He remained but a moment, or two, and then hurried back on deck.
Suddenly a gust of wind blew in through the port, and it began to rain
gently, but in huge drops. Far away was the rumble of thunder, echoing
across the open sea. The storm was evidently coming up slowly from the
east, as all the western sky was clear, and streaked with golden red.
Then a sailor--I thought he was Peters, but could not tell--came
shuffling down the companion stairs, his oilskins rustling, and pounded
on the second mate's door.
"All hands, Mr. Broussard!"
There was a muffled response, and the Creole, buttoning his jacket as
he passed, followed the other on deck. A moment later I heard the slow
throb of the engines, and glanced out to note the shore-line slipping
past into the gloom. The _Sea Gull_ was under way.