DETECTIVE WORK.
A deputation of three paused at the foot of the ladder leading to the
captain’s quarters.
“You can’t keep it to yourselves,” Mr. Linton had said. “If there’s
nothing in it, you might get yourselves into a good deal of trouble by
interfering; and if your suspicions are correct, you want authority
behind you. In either case the captain might resent your not reporting
the matter to him. No, I won’t come; it’s your own party. I didn’t get
out of my excellent bed in the small hours of the morning and wander
round the ship acting Sherlock Holmes!”
“Norah, The Human Sleuth!” murmured Wally, admiringly.
Norah reddened. In the commonplace light of day she felt a little shaken
about her discovery. It had seemed very certain in the night; now she
wondered if it were indeed quite so sure a thing. Uncomfortable visions
of bursting into the cabin of perhaps an innocent old lady, filled her
mind.
“Be quiet!” said Jim, patting his chum on the head with more vigour than
consideration. “Who upset himself?”
“That isn’t decent of you,” said Wally, rubbing his pate. “I’m still
bruised, in mind and body. It’s evident that there’s nothing of the
sleuth about this child. Well, you and Norah can go to the skipper.”
“Indeed, you’re coming too,” said Jim. “You saw the light as well as we
did.”
“And messed up the show, without any assistance,” Wally added, sadly.
“Don’t be an old stupid,” said Norah. “If this show is a show at all, it
isn’t a matter of one night only. We’ll get him, if he’s there to be
got.”
“Of course we shall,” Jim said. “Well, we might as well go and hunt up
the captain.”
“Wait until eleven o’clock,” counselled his father. “Most of the
passengers are pretty well taken up then, between beef-tea and games,
and you’re likely to find the boat-deck empty; it’s just as well not to
court observation when you attack him in force.” So the deputation
possessed its soul in what patience it might until the coast was fairly
clear, and then made a rapid ascent to the upper deck.
“Shall we send him a message?” Norah asked, stopping at the foot of the
ladder.
“No, I don’t think so,” Jim answered. “This is a private call, and we
don’t want attention drawn to it. Come on.” They plunged up the steep
steps and knocked discreetly.
“Come in,” said the captain’s voice; and they entered, to find not only
Captain Garth, but the chief officer, comfortably ensconced in easy
chairs; at sight of whom the deputation stopped, in some confusion.
“I beg your pardon,” Jim said; “we ought to have found out if you were
engaged.”
“By no means—it’s all right,” said the captain, cheerfully. “Mr. Dixon
and I were merely discussing affairs of state—the weight of brown
trout, I think it was, eh, Dixon? Sit down, Miss Norah. Is it very
private, or can Mr. Dixon stay?”
“It’s certainly private,” Jim said, laughing; “but I should think Mr.
Dixon had better stay, or you might have the trouble of getting him
back, captain.”
“It sounds alarming,” said the skipper. “May I smoke, Miss Norah?—thank
you. I’ll feel better able to bear it, with a pipe, whatever it is. Not
mutiny, I hope, Jim?”
“You may think it’s nothing at all,” Jim answered “But we thought we’d
better tell you.” He made his story as brief as possible, watching the
captain’s face—which darkened as he heard, while Mr. Dixon’s remained
frankly incredulous.
“If this is so, what’s the watch doing, Dixon?” was the captain’s first
question.
“The watch is generally pretty well on the look-out,” the chief officer
said. “Only a night or two before, Miss Norah, here, was telling me they
raided her cabin because a light was coming from it.” He stopped, for
Norah had given a hasty jump. A sudden flash of comprehension
illuminated a puzzle that had remained in a corner of her mind.
“I don’t believe it was my light they saw at all!” she exclaimed. “I
never could make out how it could be. Jim, don’t you think it must have
been the same flashes that we saw?”
“By Jove!” said Jim. “That explains it—I couldn’t understand why they
went for you and your little torch.”
“You might tell me what it means,” said the captain, patiently. “I’d
know more if you did!”
“My port was open—but the curtain was drawn across it,” Norah
explained. “I wanted some toothache stuff, so I was using my little
electric torch—it’s only a wee one, and I’m just certain it couldn’t
throw any light through the curtain and outside. But the quartermaster
came down and complained. I don’t believe it was my cabin at all that
they saw—it was the one we were watching last night.”
“Yes,” exclaimed Wally, “and, ten to one, whoever it was heard the
quartermaster raiding you, and profited by the warning. And then he
thought of fitting in his wind-scoop so that it would shut out his light
from the deck above.”
“That’s possible, of course,” Mr. Dixon said. “Those wind-scoops jut out
a good way; I don’t believe any one looking down would see a light
shielded by one. The watch is well kept—but all that the men think of
looking for is a decided ray of light from a cabin window.”
“H’m!” said the captain. “You didn’t find out who occupies the suspected
cabin?”
“No,” Jim answered. “We thought of doing so, but Dad reckoned it might
excite suspicion if we took any steps. So we haven’t done anything.”
“Quite right. The purser can tell me easily enough.” The captain paused,
and knitted his brow in thought.
“Well,” he said, at length, “it may be innocent enough—but it doesn’t
sound so. I’m giving you three credit for being fairly acute observers;
I don’t think you’d jump to wild conclusions.”
“We were awfully scared of making fools of ourselves!” Jim said,
laughing.
“Very wholesome feeling. Anyhow, I’ll speak to the purser, and make a
few inquiries. And as it’s your case, so to speak, perhaps you would all
come up here this afternoon and have tea with me, and I’ll tell you
anything I’ve found out. Bring your father.”
“Thanks, awfully,” said the deputation, greatly relieved at being taken
so seriously.
“I don’t think I need mention that ‘a still tongue makes a wise head,’
or any sage proverb of that description?” said the captain, with a
smile.
“I don’t think so,” Jim answered. “If you have a raid, Captain, may we
be in it?”
“I’ll see,” said the captain. “Too soon to make rash promises—and your
father might have a word to say in the matter. We’ll have a talk about
it this afternoon. You can tell any one that you’re going to hear my
gramophone.” He smiled at them encouragingly, and the deputation,
understanding that it was dismissed, withdrew. On the boat-deck, it
broke up into three, each unit rejoining the main body of the passengers
separately, with an elaborate air of unconcern.
“We were wondering what had become of you,” remarked John West, whom
they found, with two or three of the younger men, talking to Mr. Linton.
“Some one was hunting for you two fellows to play cricket.”
“Sorry,” Jim said. “Are they playing?”
“I don’t think so—it fell through. There are really not enough
passengers to get up games. Some of the more energetic are talking of a
sports committee—but I’m dead against it this side of Durban. We shall
probably pick up more people there.”
“You’re coming on to London?” Jim asked.
“Oh, yes—Grantham and Barry and I mean to stick together if we can, and
try to get into the same crowd; we don’t care what it is, but we’d
prefer a mounted one. You two had better come along with us. We’d be a
pretty useful lot.”
“Thanks,” said the boys, flattered at the invitation from older men. “It
would be jolly.”
“I’m a bit doubtful as to its being jolly at all,” said Grantham,
laughing. “From all I can read it’s going to be a particularly beastly
business, and I rather think a good deal of the ‘romance of war’ will
disappear over it. The only thing is that it would be less jolly to stay
out of it.”
“Yes; you’d feel a bit of a waster, to stand out, wouldn’t you?” West
said. “Everybody’s going to be in it before long, I’ll bet—it will be a
sort of International Donnybrook Fair.” He raised his voice to include
Mr. Smith, who was standing by the rail, looking out to sea. “Going to
join when you get home, Smith?”
“To join?” said the stout one, turning. “To join what?”
“Oh, just the little old Army! You’re not going to be out of the fun,
are you?”
Mr. Smith shrugged his shoulders.
“I’m too old,” he said. “Men of my age aren’t wanted—it’s youngsters
like you and those boys. Very useful you’ll be, if you get there. But
for me—well, there is the Rifle Club of which I’m a member; and they
may make me a special constable. That requires heroism, if you like—to
march up and down a sloppy London street in the pouring rain for four
hours each night, knowing just how much use you would be if anything
went wrong.”
“But why wouldn’t you be of use?” Norah asked.
“Why?—because I am not young. Nobody is much use who is elderly—and
fat. One gets flabby and one’s muscles become soft and limp. Only one’s
head remains. Therefore, I cultivate my head.”
“For the sake of your country?” Grantham asked, laughing.
Mr. Smith nodded.
“Just so—for the sake of my country. We cannot all serve in the same
way. Somewhere or other there will be a job of work for me, and I shall
try to hold down my job, as the Americans say. No one can do more than
that.” He laughed good-humouredly. “So when you are marching by in
khaki, you can spare a thought for the poor, chilly special constable
who keeps the streets clear for you to pass, or performs some equally
dull and ordinary duty—and gets no fun out of it; not even a medal.”
“You under-rate your capabilities, Mr. Smith,” said Mr. Linton,
laughing. “No one who saw you racing down the pier at Melbourne could
regard you as either elderly or decrepit.”
“Well—perhaps not yet. But fat—yes!” Mr. Smith smiled deprecatingly,
casting a downward glance at his ample figure. “I fear I am no longer a
stayer; and in a trench I would certainly take up too much room. So I
curb my ambitions. But there will be a job for me somewhere, though it
may not be a showy one.” His smile widened, including all the little
group; then the chief engineer passed, and Mr. Smith fell into step with
him and strolled off along the deck.
“Jolly decent of the old chap,” said Grantham. “I like a man who doesn’t
talk much, but is ready to take his share; and somehow, you don’t expect
it from a lazy-looking, comfortable business man of his type.”
“No,” said Barry. “People like us go in as much for the fun of it—the
adventure—as anything; but he can’t anticipate experiences like that.
Just shows you can’t judge any one; I’d have put old Smith down as an
arm-chair patriot, if ever there was one, but he seems anxious to be
thoroughly uncomfortable, if necessary.”
“Oh, he’s not half a bad fellow!” Jim said. “He’s so interested about
things; it’s quite jolly to talk to him. And he’s keen about his nephew
and the boys on the transports. There are lots of people worse than old
Smith.” Thus dismissing the claims to respect of his fellow-passengers,
Jim demanded volunteers for deck-quoits, and the party, having
volunteered in a body, withdrew.
The captain’s gramophone was something of an institution on the ship. It
was an excellent machine, and the captain loved it. Occasionally he was
induced to bring it to the saloon at night, or, in the tropics, out on
the deck; but his more usual form of entertainment was to invite a
select few to his cabin for tea, an invitation understood to include
music. It was not therefore, regarded as anything unusual when the
Linton group declined the general tea-summons, and moved away in the
direction of the upper deck. In the comfortable rooms under the bridge,
tea was made the chief business of the gathering, and nothing was said
of any other matter until every one was served and the stewards had
withdrawn. Then the captain looked round the expectant faces.
“Well, I have not much to report,” he said. He produced a plan of the
ship, showing the outer view of the port-holes. “That is your cabin
window, Miss Norah. Now where did you see those flashes emerging?”
“From this one,” said Norah, unhesitatingly, indicating a port-hole.
“Wasn’t it, boys?” Jim and Wally, looking over her shoulder, nodded
confirmation.
“Ah, so I thought! Well, that cabin has no occupant—it’s a small vacant
one.”
Disappointment showed plainly written on the faces of his three younger
hearers.
“That, of course, proves nothing,” went on the captain; and the faces
cleared immediately. “Any one could get in to use it; it is not locked.
There are no signs of its having been occupied in any way, but then, no
one using it surreptitiously would leave signs. We have one piece of
evidence, however; the wind-scoop is a new one, but there are scratches
on it that show it has been applied, possibly by a person who did not
thoroughly understand how to insert it in the port-hole. Why, you
blood-thirsty young people!—you look pleased!”
The three detectives had beamed, quite involuntarily. They laughed, a
little shame-faced.
“We’re anxious not to have taken up your time for nothing, sir,”
explained Wally, suavely.
“H’m,” said Captain Garth, looking from one guest to another. “Mr.
Linton, you look as pleased as any of them!”
“The family reputation for common sense is at stake,” said Mr. Linton,
smiling. “I admit I don’t want to find they’ve led you on a wild-goose
chase, captain. Besides, they woke me up; I want some compensation for a
disturbed night.”
“A peaceful man, anxious to command a blameless ship, has a poor time
nowadays!” said the captain. “Well, that’s how the matter stands. The
cabins near the empty one are occupied by ladies, who, I think, are
guiltless of anything desperate; they’re all addicted to wool-work and
playing Patience. Further inquiry leads me to feel very doubtful about
two men; one is employed in the galley, the other is a foremast hand.
Both are Swedes.”
“But could they get into the cabin?”
“Oh, easily! Every one knows the plan of the ship, and there would be no
difficulty in dodging into an empty cabin. Frankly,” said the captain,
“it is a relief to me to find suspicion directed away from the
passengers; it’s a much easier matter to tackle a foremast hand with
alien tendencies. The sailor was seen last night under somewhat queer
circumstances; he was in a part of the ship where he had no business. He
gave a fairly lame excuse.”
“What time was that, Captain?” Jim asked.
“A little after three. It might mean nothing—but putting everything
together, the matter is suspicious. We’ll set a watch to-night, in two
places?”
“Can we be in it?” came from Jim and Wally, simultaneously.
The captain looked questioningly at Mr. Linton.
“Oh, I leave it to you, Captain!” said that gentleman; “I can’t keep
them in cotton-wool.”
“And after all, it’s their find—if it be a find,” said the captain. “At
least, it’s Miss Norah’s—but I can’t very well let you watch!” He
smiled at Norah.
“It’s awful to be a girl!” said she, lugubriously. “But I suppose it
can’t be helped. You’ll tell me all about it, won’t you?”
“You shall know all!” said the captain, dramatically. “Well, one watch
must be kept in the empty cabin you are using for a dressing-room—cheer
up, Miss Norah, we’ll give you another. You boys can watch there, if you
like. Then I will have men posted further aft, also in an empty cabin;
and a special watch kept on deck.”
“And if we see the flashes?”
“Report to Mr. Dixon. Both watches will close up on the alley-way
leading to the cabin, and we’ll burst the door in. I’m having the hinges
specially fixed, so that the screws will give, if necessary. If any one
is there, he must be caught red-handed, or not at all. It’s a mercy that
the cabin is unoccupied and that no one has any right to be there—to
break violently in upon a feminine passenger doing nothing more deadly
than using a spirit-lamp to heat curling-tongs, would lead to
unpleasantness with the powers that be, at home!”
“I guess it was more than that,” Wally remarked.
“Oh, of course it was! Still, it may be capable of some very simple
explanation; don’t run away with the idea that we have really an alien
on board.” The captain smiled. “I know you want a scalp—but I don’t
know that I do. And, in any case, I want to keep the matter from the
other passengers. That sort of thing only leads to nervousness and
excitement and I’m especially pleased in the present state of affairs,
that my passengers show no signs of getting ‘jumpy’ over war risks.
Coming out, there was a lady who used to consult the officers several
times a day on the probability of being sunk, and she got on our
nerves.”
“She would,” said Jim. “We shan’t speak of it, Captain. But can you keep
it dark, if we make a capture?”
“Oh, I think so. Everything leads me to suspect one of the two Swedes;
and the temporary disappearance of a hand may be easily explained to the
rest of the crew, while the passengers need never hear about it. Lots of
things occur on a voyage about which it isn’t necessary to inform the
passengers,” said the captain, with a twinkle. “They’re all very good,
of course—but they have such a way of asking questions!”
“There’s so little else to do,” said Norah, laughing—“and such heaps of
questions to ask!”
“Quite so,” agreed the captain. “Well, lest you should ask me any more
just now, let’s have the music-box.” He opened the gramophone, and gave
himself to melody.
Later, on their way to dress for dinner, they passed a tall, fair-haired
sailor, busily cleaning paint. He looked up at the merry group, with a
surly face.
“That’s a Swede, I know,” Wally said, when they were safely out of
hearing. “I wonder if he’s one of the suspects.”
“If he is, he’ll be an awkward man to tackle,” Mr. Linton said. “You
will have to be careful, boys; don’t run unnecessary risks in the way of
going for him single-handed. That fellow is as strong as a bull.”
Jim and Wally passed over this sage advice in the airy way of boyhood.
“It really looks very likely,” said the former. “He’s probably
pro-German; and it’s quite a reasonable thing to suppose that he may be
in the pay of Germans in Australia, and has simply joined the ship in
the hope of signalling our whereabouts to an enemy cruiser.”
“Yes—wouldn’t he get a nice bonus for us!” Wally added. “And a free
trip for himself to Germany—to say nothing of the fact that he may be
carrying information about the transports. Scissors!—don’t I hope we’ll
get him!”
But the watch that night proved fruitless. Jim and his chum spent long
comfortless hours in the little cabin near Norah’s, taking turns at the
port-hole; further up, Mr. Dixon, very bored and cold, shared a similar
vigil with an elderly quartermaster. But no queer flashes of light came
from the port-hole between them; nor had the watch on deck anything to
report. It was a disconsolate trio that met on deck next morning.
“Never mind,” Norah said, comforting. “He may have been too sleepy.
He’ll be there to-night.”
He was not there, however. Again the weary night brought no
satisfaction. Jim and Wally, heavy-eyed and yawning, gave up the watch
towards daybreak, and sought their bunks thankfully, unable to keep
awake any longer.
Mr. Dixon was sarcastic at the expense of the amateur detectives.
“Too much reading of penny-dreadfuls, and visiting picture-shows,” said
he, acidly. “I’ve heard that it makes people think in melodrama, and it
also appears to make them see weird flashes that aren’t there!”
“They were there!” said Wally, hotly. “We all three saw them.”
“I’m sure you thought you did,” said the chief officer, with a soothing
note that was more irritating than acidity. “Now you must keep a good
look-out for the sea-serpent; that’s a daylight affair, and doesn’t
necessitate extra night-watches.” He yawned cavernously. “No more
sitting up for me, thank goodness!—the old man reckons this business is
a frost.”
The captain bore out this statement, in terms less calculated to hurt.
“We have to consider the possibility of a mistake,” he told them. “And I
can’t keep men out of bed indefinitely. The officer of the watch will
have special instructions for vigilance! I think that some underhand
business was going on, but that the interruption on the first night
scared the offender permanently.” Whereat Wally groaned with extreme
bitterness.
“Cheer up!” Jim said, smiting him on the back in the privacy of their
cabin. “I’m not going to give in; if he’s there, we’ll get him yet.” But
though they watched as much as youth and sleepiness would let them, the
nights went by, and there was no further appearance of the mysterious
signals.