"A mutiny on a private yacht? Why, heavens and earth--your men don't
have anything to do but to draw their pay and their breath!"
"I know; that is the way it would appear. But there is something
behind--something you don't understand. If I should tell you that the
_Andromeda_ left New York with a quarter of a million dollars in her
hold----"
"What's that?" I ejaculated, shocked into sudden and lively attention.
"You must forgive me, Dick, if I don't go into the particulars," he
went on hastily. "I might say, with a good degree of truth, that it
isn't altogether my own secret. But--but the fact remains."
"A quarter of a mil--Great Caesar!" I gasped. Then the deductive part
of my brain began to fit the fragmentary admissions into a probable
whole. All summer there had been flying rumors in the West India
ports of a revolution brewing in one of the South American republics;
an upheaval which was to be financed--in the interests of a great
importing corporation--by New York capital. Could it be possible that
Van Dyck had foolishly allowed his yacht to be made use of as a money
transport?
"You don't mean to say that we have that money on board now?" I
protested, when the possible consequences began to make themselves
manifest.
"As it happens, we haven't," he replied, quite calmly. "That is why it
took the _Andromeda_ so long to make the run from New York to Havana. I
was getting rid of the impedimenta."
"But if you've gotten rid of it, why should your crew--"
"That is just the point," he explained patiently. "The thing had to
be done quietly, and proper precautions were taken at both ends of
the line to keep anybody and everybody from finding out that we were
carrying a small fortune between-decks. Still, I am afraid it did leak
out. That little black-mustached fellow who turned up at Havana, and
again in New Orleans----"
"That reminds me of something that occurred to me no longer ago than
this morning's breakfast-time," I broke in; "a thing that I've been
meaning to ask you about ever since. Manuel, the mulatto boy who
usually serves breakfast, was invisible this morning, and he had a
substitute."
"Well?"
"I was going to say that, if I'm not greatly mistaken, you have that
same mysterious little man--minus the mustaches--on your payroll at
this moment, Bonteck. He is the under-steward who goes by the name of
Lequat; he was the man who substituted for Manuel this morning, and he
was the man who came to me just now to tell me that you wanted me."
It was now Van Dyck's turn to sit up and take notice and he did both,
emphatically.
"That fellow?--In the _Andromeda_?" he exclaimed.
"As I say--if I'm not much mistaken. I had a pretty good chance to
familiarize myself with his face that night in the hotel dining-room in
New Orleans, and I have a fairly decent memory for faces."
Van Dyck fell into a muse, breaking the silence finally to say: "By
Jove, Dick, that may prove to be a horse of another color, don't you
know!"
Waiving the question as to what the color of the original horse might
have been, I stuck to the point at issue.
"If, as you say, you have gotten rid of the money, the situation can't
be very alarming. Including engineers, firemen and cabin servants, you
can't have over thirty-five or forty men in the crew, all told. There
are nine of us in the cabin, and Haskell and the Americans will all
stand with us. If we get together and put up a good front----"
Van Dyck interrupted hastily--over-hastily, I thought, for a man of his
inches and determination in other fields.
"It is not to be thought of, Dick; not for a single moment, with all
these women aboard. Besides, we have no arms. We'd be shot down in cold
blood if it should come to blows."
This was so singularly unlike the Bonteck Van Dyck I had known best in
the college days that it fairly made me gasp.
"Why, Bonteck!" I exclaimed; "what has come over you? You don't mean to
say that you would calmly hand the yacht over to those fellows if they
should ask you for it?"
"It might easily be the only thing to do," he asserted, half
mechanically. "Of course, as I say, we haven't the money, and they
would have their trouble for their pains, after all. Still, it might
be difficult to convince them that the gol--the money has been actually
disposed of. If they learned in New York that we really took it on
board, and didn't learn afterward that it was disembarked elsewhere ...
well, you see how it stacks up, don't you?"
"I see that you are making mountains out of molehills," I retorted.
"What does Goff say about this potential mutiny?"
Van Dyck shook his head as if the mention of Goff merely added to the
difficulties of the situation.
"That is another thing: Goff may be in it himself. He is an awful
tough-looking old pirate. Don't you think so?"
"What I think is that you must have been completely off your head
when you changed from your Atlantic-liner master and crew to this old
fisherman and his Portuguese."
"Er--somebody recommended him; I forget just who it was," he went on
to explain. "I needed a sailing-master who knew the Caribbean well,
and who would do what he was told to do and ask no questions. You see
the--er--shipping of the quarter million made some difference, and I
couldn't afford to have too much intelligence aboard."
Again there was a pause, during which I was trying to persuade myself
that this half-hearted young man across the stateroom table from me was
really the same Bonteck Van Dyck who had coached crews, captained the
'Varsity football, and had otherwise proved himself a man and a leader
of men--the sort of leader who fights to the final gasp, and even then
doesn't know when he is beaten. The inability to do it put a little
unconscious scorn into my summing-up of the situation.
"It is up to you, of course," I said. "We are merely your guests, and
what you say is what we shall do. At the same time, I think--in fact I
know--that you could count upon practically every man in our much-mixed
passenger list to help you put down a mutiny."
"That is it--that is just why I sent for you, Dick," he cut in eagerly.
"I knew you would be all for making a fight, and that you would
probably lead it. For the sake of the women there mustn't be any scrap,
you know. It would scare them into hysterics, naturally. If it should
come to a showdown we must just make up our minds to take it easy--take
the line of the least resistance--if you get what I mean. At the very
worst, the mutineers couldn't well do more than to put us ashore
somewhere, so that they might have a chance to search the yacht for the
money. I have had that in mind all along, and when you came in just now
I was trying to figure out our present latitude and longitude. Have you
any idea where we are?"
"Trying to figure out?" I echoed. "Do you mean to tell me calmly that
you--a navigator yourself and the owner of this ship--don't _know_
where we are?"
"I'm ashamed to admit that I don't know--precisely. Goff keeps the
reckoning, you see, and I have thought that perhaps he wasn't giving me
the correct figures."
If any additional evidence had been needed, here was another and still
more startling proof of the devastating change which had somehow been
wrought in the Bonteck Van Dyck I had been thinking I knew. One of his
hobbies in the past had been the study of practical navigation, and on
more than one long cruise he had been his own sailing-master. That he
should deliberately turn the _Andromeda_ over to a man who had been
merely "recommended" by some one whose name was already forgotten was
little short of astounding.
"I truly hope there is nothing worse than an ordinary, every-day mutiny
in store for us," I said grimly. "Judging from our course--which Goff
may have changed every night, for all you seem to know--we ought to be
somewhere in the southern half of the Caribbean. The steamer lanes are
well charted, but there are a good many cays and islands outside of
them--places where the bones of the _Andromeda_ might lie until they
rotted before anybody would ever discover them."
"And not all of the islands are inhabited, I take it," said Van Dyck,
peering down at his chart as if he hoped to identify some of them.
"You know that as well as I do--or better," I snapped. And then: "What
in the name of common sense has turned you into such a milk-blooded
shuffler, Bonteck? You talk and act as if you weren't more than
half----"
"Listen!" he said hastily, holding up a warning finger.
The stringy tinkle of Billy Grisdale's mandolin had stopped, and with
it the singing. Above the murmuring diapason of the yacht's engines
we both heard Edie Van Tromp's shrill cry of "Land-o-o-o!" As if the
cry had been a pre-concerted signal, it was followed instantly by
a confused trampling of feet on the deck over our heads, a sudden
slackening of the yacht's speed, and more cries and foot-tramplings.
I was upon my feet and was reaching for the door-knob when Mrs. Van
Tromp's throaty scream came from the adjoining saloon where the bridge
players were sitting. Before I could turn the knob the door was thrust
open, and the under-steward, whose ship name was Lequat, backed by two
evil-faced fore-deck men armed with rifles, stood in the doorway. At
the appearance of this warlike demonstration I was glad to see that Van
Dyck, for once in a way, seemed genuinely shocked.
"You?" he demanded. "How is this? Where is Mr. Goff?"
The little man's smile and bow were like those of a dancing master.
"Ze captaine is sand me to inform you zat you are both ze prisonaire,
_oui_. You vill sit down in ze chair and wait patient', M'sieu' Van
Dyck--and you, Mistaire Preb'. Zis ees w'at you call all cut-and-dry,
and----"
I suppose I sprang at his throat; it was the only thing for a live man
to do. But the little beggar was quicker than a cat, and he brought me
up all standing, with a huge pistol thrust into my face.
"Aha! you vill choke me, ees it? By gar, Mistaire Preb', eet is possib'
I make you--how you say it?--walk ze board--ze plank, yes? You vill
sit down on ze chair and tek eet easy. Ze sheep ees belong to h-us,
and your fran's 'ave all been lock' up in ze staterooms. You can do
notting; _moi_, Alphonse Lequat, vill tek ze comman'."
It was not until after all of this had happened that Van Dyck found his
voice.
"Is this--is this a mutiny, Lequat?" he asked, as mild as mush.
"Eet is vat you vill be please' to call heem, M'sieu' Van Dyck,
_certainement_. For fifteen, twanty, feefty minute' you vill sit on ze
chair, and Pedro, he is stay outside ze door and keel you eef you make
noises. Bam-by, _moi_, Alphonse Lequat, s'all come back to tell you vat
eet is you s'all do." And then to his men: "_Allons, mes garçons!_"
And with that he backed out of the owner's private cabin, and shut and
locked the door.