Who that has ever seen it will forget daybreak on a fine morning in
Honolulu Harbour? Surely no one. The background of tree-clad island, so
dark yet so suggestive of tropical luxuriance; the sky overhead so full
of rainbow hues, and the sea so calm and yet possessed of all the
colours of the inside of a pearl shell. When one sees it one is forced
to the conclusion that there could never be another like it. It is
beautiful beyond conception.
The sun had not yet made his appearance above the horizon when Mr.
Leversidge and I left the hotel at which we had been residing since our
arrival in the island, and made our way down to the small steamer we had
chartered, and which had been ordered to be ready to put to sea with us
at a moment's notice. Information had been brought to us late the night
before that the schooner, whose coming we had been so eagerly awaiting,
had been sighted further down the coast, and, in consequence, we were
anxious to put off to her as soon as might be.
"The chase is growing exciting," said Mr. Leversidge, as we crossed the
gangway and bade the skipper "Good-morning!" "It is to be hoped the
reverend gentleman has not left his vessel in the Gilberts and made off
in another direction. In that case we shall in all probability have lost
sight of him for good and all."
"I'm not afraid of that," I answered. "In the first place he would not
be able to get enough for his booty there to make it worth his while to
sell, and in the second I have a sort of conviction that he is making
for America. Such a pearl as he has with him would command a much better
figure in San Francisco than it would be likely to do either here or in
the Gilberts, and from what I have seen of the man I should say he was
quite smart enough to be aware of that fact."
"I am glad to hear you say so," returned Mr. Leversidge. "Nevertheless,
I shall not feel easy in my mind until I have it in my possession once
more. I shall not forget the chase this man has given us as long as I
live."
"I don't suppose you will," I said. "It has been exciting enough in all
conscience. I only hope the finish may be satisfactory."
"I hope it may," he answered quietly. And just then I heard the skipper
whistle the engine-room, and presently we cast off our moorings and got
under weigh. Throwing a trail of black smoke behind us we left the
harbour and passed out to sea, the mate at the wheel, the skipper pacing
the bridge, and Leversidge and I straining our eyes in search of the
vessel for which we were so anxiously waiting. It was upwards of an
hour, however, before we saw her white sails rising above the sea line
ahead of us. Half an hour later only five miles or so separated us, and
every moment was bringing us closer to each other. When we had come so
near that we could even distinguish the people standing on her decks, I
approached our commander.
"Now then, captain," I said, "the sooner you lay us on board that boat
the better we shall be pleased. I've a letter to deliver to the skipper
from his owners, and it must be in his possession with as little delay
as possible."
"I'll do my best," he answered, and immediately put his helm over.
The schooner's captain, seeing that we wished to speak him, hove his
vessel to, when our skipper sang out that he would send a boat. One was
soon alongside, and into her, when her crew had taken their places at
the oars, Mr. Leversidge and I bundled. Ten minutes later we had been
hauled aboard the schooner, and I was presenting the captain with the
letter I had received from his owners.
He read it carefully, and having done so turned to me: "This is a pretty
serious matter, Mr.----,"--here he paused and consulted the letter
again--"Mr. Collon. But I don't see how I'm to gainsay you. My owners
say I'm to permit you to act as you think best with regard to my
passenger, so I suppose you must have your way. Still, I don't feel easy
in my mind."
"You need not worry yourself, captain," I said. "Whatever happens, you
may be sure your owners will not hold you responsible. Is the man we
want on deck, or must we look for him below?"
"He's not out of his bunk yet, I believe," replied the skipper; "but if
you will follow me below I'll soon ascertain."
We accompanied him, as directed, along the deck and down the companion
ladder. Entering the small cuddy he informed Mr. McGuire that two
gentlemen desired to speak to him, and then shrugged his shoulders, and
made his way up on deck again. He could barely have reached it before a
man, clad in a suit of filthy pyjamas, and with his hair standing nearly
on end, and his eyes almost out of his head, emerged from the cabin
opposite which we were sitting and confronted us. I saw him start back
against the bulwarks and throw up his hands as if to shut out the memory
of our faces, and almost at the same moment I heard my companion utter a
little cry, followed by the words, "My God, what's this?" Then McGuire,
or Colway-Brown, by which name we knew him better, clutched at the
panelling, missed it, and gradually slid down until he fell in a heap
upon the deck. The recognition had been too much for him, and he had
fainted.
When he recovered his senses, we lifted him up and placed him on a
locker beside the table. A more miserable figure could scarcely have
been found in all the Southern Seas. Again and again he looked at
Leversidge, and every time he looked he groaned. I was more puzzled than
I could express. The old gentleman's face alone was worth walking a long
way to see. At last he got his breath, and was able to use his voice.
"You miserable, cheating hound!" he cried, springing to his feet and
speaking with a vehemence that astonished me quite as much as the scene
which occasioned it. "Do you mean to tell me that it is you who have
been playing this trick upon us? Am I to understand that you are the dog
who has led us this dance? By heavens, you shall pay for it as severely
as ever man paid yet!"
Here he paused for breath, and I seized the opportunity to ask for an
explanation.
"Don't you understand?" he cried, wheeling round to me, his eyes
flaming, and his usually florid countenance now white with rage. "This
miserable wretch is no more the Reverend Colway-Brown than I am."
"Indeed!" I said, with my mouth wide open with surprise. "Then who is
he?"
"_My own agent--the man we trusted. The man who was to have brought the
pearl to England!_"
"This is really very pretty," I said, as soon as I had recovered from my
astonishment. "And, what's more, it explains a good many things that I
could not understand. No wonder he took fright when I mentioned your
name at Donovan's Hotel in Cooktown. Had it not been for that bilious
attack of yours you would have been with me, and, in that case, you
would have recognised him, and we should have been spared this voyage
across the Pacific. But still there is one matter that requires
consideration." Here I turned to the wretched fellow before us. "If the
Reverend Colway-Brown did not murder the agent, it is plain that the
agent must have murdered the Reverend Colway-Brown. We gave the parson
the credit of that business. It appears, however, that we were
mistaken."
By this time the wretched man's agony was almost painful to witness. Try
how he would he could not recover his self-possession. Prior to that
moment he had imagined himself accused of mere stealing, while the
secret of the more serious charge he believed to be still safely locked
up in the mail-boat cabin at the bottom of the sea. It came upon him,
therefore, as a greater shock to find his crime discovered, and by the
very man of all others of whom he had the greatest reason to be afraid.
Small wonder that he felt ill at ease. In my own heart I'm afraid I
pitied him, but not when I thought of the sinking mail-boat and the wild
struggle in cabin 33.
"What have you to say for yourself?" asked Leversidge, turning to the
other again. "Are you aware that we have only to convey you ashore in
order to give you into custody as the murderer of Colway-Brown?"
"I am aware of that," cried the wretched man; "but you do not know
everything. You do not know what I had to put up with. You can have no
idea of the temptations that were placed in my way. He was one of the
gang that dogged my steps first from Melbourne to Sydney, and then on to
Brisbane. I was surrounded, morning, noon, and night, by thieves and
murderers. I scarcely dared close my eyes for fear I should never open
them again, or if I did that I should find my precious charge gone. This
man you call Colway-Brown was the head of the gang, but it was not until
we had reached Thursday Island that I found him out. Then he began to
hang round me on deck and in my cabin, talking always of pearls and
precious stones, and trying to induce me to be friendly with him. On the
night of the wreck he came into my berth, just as I was thinking of
retiring to rest. One glance showed me that he was under the influence
of liquor, and I also noticed that he carried one hand in his pocket in
a suspicious sort of fashion. Presently he came up alongside me as I
stood beside my washstand basin, and before I knew what he was about had
whipped a razor from his pocket and was trying for my throat. I was too
startled by the suddenness of it all to cry out, but not sufficiently so
as to be unable to defend myself. I wrestled with him with the strength
of despair, and at last was fortunate enough to get the mastery and to
throw him upon the deck. Then the devil, who arranges all these things
for his own benefit, you may be sure, got hold of me, and for a few
moments I was not conscious of what I did. I remember looking down at
him as he lay below me on the deck, and I also remember seizing the
razor, which had fallen from his hand, and giving myself a nasty cut in
so doing. After that I am not sure of my actions; but one thing is very
certain, when I rose to my feet his throat was cut from ear to ear. You,
Mr. Leversidge, who are so angry with me now, may not believe me when I
say so, but I tell you that I fell back against my berth trying to find
the pluck to kill myself when I thought of what I had done. But I could
not do it. I leaned against my bunk and hid my face in my blood-stained
hands, sobbing as if my heart would break. Then I looked down at the
man, and seeing that he was quite dead, wondered how I could best manage
to save my neck from the fatal noose.
"While I was trying to collect my thoughts, and wondering what I should
do, the vessel quivered from stem to stern; then I heard a noise on
deck, a shouting and trampling of feet. I immediately left my cabin and
ran up the companion ladder as fast as I could go, only to find the
great ship sinking. What happened during the next few minutes I cannot
say; indeed, I do not remember anything of what happened until I found
myself floating on the surface of the water, wondering how long I should
remain alive. The rest you know. I was saved, with one other man, and,
what was more, I had the pearl with me. It is my belief it is accursed.
It was not until I was out of the water, and found that there were only
two of us saved, that the idea occurred to me to impersonate the dead
man, and thus keep the jewel for myself. I fought with it, God knows how
hard, but it was too strong for me, and at last I gave in. The chances,
I argued, were all in my favour. So far as I knew, with the exception of
the foremast hand, who did not know one passenger from another, I was
the only survivor. Your agent was supposed to be drowned. If, therefore,
I called myself Colway-Brown, I might escape detection.
"When I reached Thursday Island, intending to strike for America, where
I thought I should have a better opportunity of selling my stolen
property without being detected, I called myself by the name of the dead
man. Then came your telegram asking for information concerning your
agent. I answered it as I thought the spurious parson would have done,
and told myself I should be troubled by you no more. The week following
I left for the South, but every one was so curious to see me that I
abandoned that idea and left the vessel at Cooktown, intending to change
into this boat, and so make my way _via_ Honolulu to the States. But it
was not to be. You, sir, found me at Jim Donovan's Hotel, and it was
only by a stroke of good fortune that I managed to give you the slip.
Now you, Mr. Leversidge, have caught me, and it remains for you to say
what you will do."
I looked at Leversidge, who looked at me. The position was an awkward
one. There could be no doubt that the man's story was a true one; and if
so, for a part of it, at least, he deserved our pity.
It was Mr. Leversidge who solved the difficulty by inquiring what had
become of the pearl. In answer the man fumbled in the breast-pocket of
his coat, and presently drew out a small flat box, which he passed
across the table.
"It is there, the cursed thing!" he said bitterly. "Would to God I had
never seen it! It has wrought my ruin, body and soul."
With feverish earnestness Mr. Leversidge opened the box, and took from
the cotton wool, with which it was filled, the finest black pearl I had
ever set eyes on in the whole course of my experience. Seeing it, I
could easily understand the temptation it had given rise to in the
other's heart. Mr. Leversidge, however, replaced it in its nest, and
stowed the box away in his pocket. Then he turned to the wretched man
before us.
"You know in your own heart," he said, "whether the story you have told
us regarding that man's death be true or not. In either case you may be
sure of one thing, and that is, that your wretched secret is in safe
keeping. May God forgive you, and permit you to work out your own
salvation; we shall not punish you further. The rest is a matter for
your own conscience."
Ten minutes later we were back on our own steamer, returning to Honolulu
as fast as she could carry us, little dreaming what awaited us there.