past forgotten," said Booker solemnly, eying him with a strangely
insistent look.
"How much?" asked the practical navigator in a whisper.
"You'll get a thousand straight--my personal recommendation for any
ship you wish. Perhaps in New York you'll find employment. We do a
heavy business there----"
"Anything in writing?" asked James, without moving.
"Nothing," said Booker carelessly.
"Is McDuff wise?"
"He is not--some men you can't trust when drunk--some you can."
"How'll I manage? How'll I make him understand? I can't blow the ship
under him--kill all hands for a paltry thousand dollars," hissed James.
There was a long silence. Booker lit a cigar with a steady hand and
puffed slowly. He was in no hurry. James gazed at him fixedly for a
long time. He shifted uneasily in his chair.
"Suppose I refuse?" he said.
"You know the consequences," said Booker quite calmly.
"Try to hang me for deserting my ship, hey?" snarled the seaman. "Want
me to do a dirty job for the insurance--won't even tell me how you want
it done."
"It's up to you. You are a seaman--a captain. That's what I've been
hiring you for. If I were a sailor I might give you directions. I'm
not. Will you do it or not? Let's have it."
"Yes, I'll do it, you devil," snarled James. "I'll do it--somehow. Good
day."
"Good day, Captain--Mr. James," said Booker without enthusiasm. He
opened the door and the fat form of the disreputable seaman slouched
out. A clerk met him at the door and handed him a note. It was
permission to draw a hundred dollars for travelling expenses. James
took it to the cashier and handed it in.
"Thought you were in jail," sneered the cashier as he took the paper.
"You are a liar," murmured James smoothly.
The official made no further comment. The glare from the old seaman's
eyes did not justify it. He handed the money through the window with
the air of one handing a bone to a starving dog. James stuffed it away
in his clothes and pulling his hat over his eyes, went his way down the
street to his favourite haunt when in town. No one appeared to notice
him. He was not recognized.
"You can get me a bottle of rum," said he to the waiter.
"What kind, sare--three or six?"
"I'll drink somethin' about ten shillin's a bottle," said James. "Wake
up!"
The waiter brought a bottle and drew the cork. The odour filled the
air. It caused James to smack his lips and he drained four glasses in
as many minutes. Then he sat back in his chair and seemed to study the
negro's face.
"Do you know whether Mr. Jackson--firm of Wells & Jackson,
underwriters--is in town?" he asked.
"Yo' mean de insurance company, sare--yes, sare, he's here. Seen to-day
on de street," answered the waiter. "He took a drink with Mr. Booker
befo' closing time."
"Thank you, you can wrap up that bottle--I'll go along now," said the
sailor.
It was plain to him that there had been a special deal, that Booker was
carrying an extra heavy risk on his cargo. What if he should tackle
Mr. Jackson? Jackson might listen to him, might even believe there
was something in his warning, but he was a pariah and Mr. Booker was
a gentleman. Then he had nothing whatever to offer as proof. His word
against that of the owner? No, that wouldn't do at all.
He thought the matter over and finished off the bottle of rum while
doing so. The more he drank the more he became convinced that the only
thing to do was to follow Mr. Booker's wishes. The only thing was how
would he do the job. How was it possible to sink a ship, blow her up,
without killing all hands? He would not kill any one. No, he would not
stoop to that. He must have time to think over the matter. It would
require some nice adjustment to carry off the affair properly and not
land in prison for life. He wondered whether McDuff knew anything of
the deal. It was not likely; Mr. Booker had never made a confidant of
the Scotchman, though the fellow had a close head and never talked,
drunk or sober. James slept over it and took the train for Port
Antonio, arriving there in the afternoon. He at once made his way to
the docks and boarded the _Enos_ without being quizzed, though several
persons seemed to show surprise at his presence. The story of his
deserting his ship was now public property.
"I'm rare glad to see ye," said McDuff. "I'd na take ye for th' sneak
they say ye are, Mr.--Mister James. I've been told ye wanted a place as
mate wid the ould hooker. How is it?"
"Yes, I'll go as mate for you, Scotty," said James, thinking of the
peculiar accent his former mate laid upon the word Mister. It was just
as well to let the fellow know at once how much respect he felt for
him. Then there would be no trouble in the future. He had served under
him for several years, and it would swell his head, of course, to have
command.
"I'm thinkin'--Mister--Meester James, that'll be about time ye took a
reef in your tongue-lashin's. When ye have th' honour to speak to me,
ye canna call me out of me name--that's Captain McDuff, sir--don't
forget the SIR."
"No, Mack, I won't forgit it, an' don't you forgit who's talkin' to you
either. If you do we'll have trouble--and Mr. Booker don't want any
more of it in his ships--see? Let's have a drink, for the sake of old
times?"
McDuff appeared to think a moment. It would hardly do to dress his mate
now while at the dock. James would not stand it. He would drink--and
wait.
"They handle that stuff mighty careless like," suggested James, gazing
out of the stateroom door at the men loading cargo. "Seems to me if
that's dynamite there's apt to be trouble--but then you only have it
once," he added reflectively.
"That's the cargo, but not all dynamite. I dinna ken how much--but we
pull out before dark. See to the gear aft--Meester James--an' remember
the trouble I had with that old stern line last voyage. Ye wouldna gie
me a new wan."
"Where do we go?" asked James.
"To New Orleans--git the cargo there, the rest of it. D'ye think,
Meester James, that the British will furnish the powder? 'Tis good
Yankee stuff we'll take wi' us, good New Orleans powder. Also we'll
take a bit o' men, I'm thinkin', some o' that Dago gang for blasters.
They make fine blasters, do Dagoes; an' if ye lift a few o' them to
heaven, it makes little difference--there's plenty more. But they are
an ugly lot to handle, all armed with pistols or knives, ready to shoot
or stab any one."
"It's the Dago nature to go heeled," said James, drinking his rum and
pondering over his scheme. The run to New Orleans offered nothing new
in the way of developing his plans. He arose, went aft and made ready
to get to sea. He was in an ugly mood, but all who knew him addressed
him as "Captain," and the "Mister" was forgotten in the usual turmoil
of getting the _Enos_ under weigh.
A few days later in New Orleans the dynamite was aboard and the gangs
of labourers who were to mine came down to the dock. James had studied
many ways of getting the ship into trouble, but each one seemed too
dangerous. It would not do to kill the crew. He would not do that, but
to fire the cargo without almost certain death to all aboard appeared
impossible. Then a thing occurred which seemed to be like the hand of
Fate helping him on his way.
"'Tis a light cargo--an' she'll sit high, roll like a log," quoth
McDuff the day after the powder had been safely stowed. "We've cleared
and the insurance agent has had his claim settled. We're all ready for
sea--Meester James--and we'll gie along; but I must ha' a wee bit o'
drink first. Will ye coom along up the town, or will ye bide here till
I come back?"
It still gave him pleasure to address his former captain in a
patronizing manner with an emphasis upon "Meester."
James looked at him sourly and declined.
"Go on, Scotty," said he; "I'll stay by the ship. No drink for me until
we get clear of this foul river. The stinks would spoil the taste of
any kind of poison you'd put aboard ye."
"Weel, have a bit of a care, an' don't let them Dagoes get scuffling on
the lower deck. There's a bit o' powder up there in them boxes," and
McDuff went his way up the levee.
Sengali, the foreman of the gang, stood upon the string-piece of the
wharf and glowered at the small ship. He was not a sailor, but he knew
she would be a dirty and lively vessel in a blow. He had brought his
wife with him, and together they surveyed the scene.
"We will go aboard and look--see," said he to his stout spouse, and
they forthwith stepped upon the ship's deck. As nearly everybody had
gone ashore as soon as McDuff's back had been seen upon the levee,
they met no one and wandered over the _Enos_ at will. Finally Sengali
sat upon the boxes of powder and, lighting his pipe, began to smoke
placidly. He was aware of the contents of the cases, but being an old
hand at the handling of dynamite, he had developed that serenity and
carelessness which is one of their distinguishing qualities. He feared
not either fire or shock.
Mrs. Sengali wandered over the apparently deserted ship and finally
found her way into McDuff's room in the rear of the pilot-house. Here
she made herself comfortable.
It happened that Cellini, a young and amorous Dago, saw her. He had
been drinking heavily, and as the coast appeared clear he made his way
to the forward part of the ship, hoping to entertain the stout and
rosy Mrs. Sengali in a manner common to drunken Dagoes. He saw no one
forward and made his way to the captain's room. Then he quickly entered
and swiftly closed the door.
Sengali, smoking and pondering upon the future to be had in the world
at Panama, was aroused from pleasant dreams by the shrill screams of
his wife. He sprang up the companionway and rushed for the vicinity of
the noise. The cries seemed to come from the captain's room, and he
hesitated. It was a terrible crime to assault a captain upon his own
ship. But his wife. She was in terrible danger, her shrieks were now
being half muffled, showing that the person who had caused them was
stifling them as best he could. The Dago waited no longer; he crashed
against the door.
It gave way with the impact and Sengali landed in the room. Cellini was
holding his wife, but let her go instantly, and drawing a revolver,
fired at Sengali. The latter raced for the companionway, hoping to gain
his bundle, in which reposed his trusty knife. The bundle was lying
where he had sat smoking upon the cases of dynamite, and he tore it
apart, seized his weapon and turned to mete out a just revenge upon his
assailant.
"I keel you now," he roared and rushed at Cellini, who had come
floundering down the stairs after him, but who, being drunk, had
tripped and had thus lost valuable time.
Cellini, lying upon one elbow, took deliberate aim at the enraged
husband. A fireman, who had seen the fracas, fled up the levee shouting
for the police, and James, who had been drowsing in his room, rolled
out of his bunk and went to the scene of the trouble, intending to
quell it, as a mate should. Cellini's first shot from his position
where he had fallen tore through Sengali's uplifted hand. He gave a
yell and drew it down, staggering and flinging the blood about. Then he
rushed again at his prostrate enemy, his knife upraised, ready for the
finishing stroke.
James gained the vicinity just as Cellini raised his weapon for the
last shot. Drunk and furious at the interruption of Sengali, he
appeared not to care for the retribution the husband was going to wreak
upon him. He aimed carefully at the foreman's head and pulled the
trigger. Just then James kicked the pistol aside and it exploded.
A man on the levee at some distance vouched for this much of the final
act. He saw James kick the weapon, saw it explode. The next instant the
forward part of the _Enos_ disappeared in a mass of flame.
Men came running from all directions at the sound of the detonating
thunder. The rolling roar reverberated along the river-front for miles.
People at a distance saw a huge waterspout rise from where the ship had
been a moment before. Splinters, ironwork, rigging, spars and a piece
of her smoke-pipe rose to an appalling height. Then the scene settled
itself under a pall of dust and smoke.
The levee was destroyed for a distance of fifty fathoms. The dock had
melted into the surrounding air. Trees, fences, and houses, everything
at a distance of a quarter of a mile was razed flat. Men were knocked
stunned and senseless who had been within this radius and the whole
place seemed to have been shaved as with a mighty razor. Only a bit of
the ship's stern, a tiny piece of her turtle-back, floated awash to
show that there had ever been anything like a ship in the vicinity. The
_Enos_, loaded with dynamite, had blown up with all on board and had
almost totally disappeared.
A few hours later McDuff came lurching down to his ship. He was
comfortably drunk and was in high good humour.
"I'll trim Meester James--ah, yes, I'll trim him guid an' fine before
we gie th' dock at Colon. 'Tis a fine thing to be th' boss---- What, am
I drunk, or has the knave run away wid me ship? He has run away--yes,
yes, he has run away. Ah, weel, what'll I do-- The rascal has stolen me
ship," said McDuff, looking about him and seeing nothing to indicate
the whereabouts of the _Enos_. "Ah, weel, it was not my ship--but I
will have the police after him. I will have him in th' calaboose. I'm
fair drunk, I'm fair drunk--but na sa drunk I canna see a ship."
Mr. Booker read the cable despatch and handed it to his partner.
"That man James was certainly a genius," said he. "I'm half sorry for
him. I guess he must have been too zealous--'twasn't like him, yet he
must have been too anxious to please me."
"He'll turn up in time," quoth his partner, the amiable Mr. Benson.
"The fact that he was aboard of her does seem a bit out of the
ordinary, but there's probably some mistake about it. It'll straighten
itself out later. He'll be here to see you, or I'm clean disappointed
in him."
"I reckon we might as well attend to the underwriters without waiting
for any complications," suggested Mr. Booker.
"Oh, yes, get the insurance. We've had a bit of luck--that's all."
THE END.