let the trunk slingers dig up."
"Oh, Mister Mate, Mister Chief, we have our trunks here, also, and want
to get to them," answered one fellow in fairly good lingo.
"Beat it!" I ordered. "Make a get-away as quick as you can. Only
first-class passengers can take their baggage out, or get a look-in.
Why, you lubber, if every one of you steerage rats wanted to get into
your trunks, it would take about fifteen hundred stewards and baggage
men to take care of you."
"But it is of great importance that we see our things--there are some
things in my trunk I must get at, some important things----"
"Try and fergit them until next Wednesday, when they can be dumped on
Ellis Island; nuff sed--no more lingo--beat it!"
The pair went away in very ugly humor, and I started the work of
clearing that baggage room of their dunnage, and trying to select the
trunks of the countess from the raffle. I managed to get about twenty
of them, and let it go at that.
The next day I took the countess below, and personally showed her over
the trunks. She was accompanied by the count and her maid.
"Now, Marie, which trunk was it in, _ma chère_? You must remember it
very well," she said, looking at the mass of baggage.
"_Mais oui_, it must be that grand affaire--that beeg one--see!" And
the maid pointed to an immense Saratoga trunk, big enough to hold the
clothes of a full man-o'-war's crew.
The baggage master and I pulled the trunk out of the ruck, and the
count produced a bunch of keys.
I sauntered over to the other side of the room, where the gratings
separated the steerage from the rest. The two fellows I saw there
yesterday were watching through the slats, and did not notice me.
"_Deux cent_," said one, in a whisper.
"Whew, _mon Dieu_----"
I knew that there was something about two hundred, but just what I
couldn't quite log. My lingo goes mostly to Spanish and Chink, having
sailed to those countries.
The countess asked me to move the big trunk to the side of the ship.
I did so without seeing the reason for the extra work, but the lady
was gracious, and there was really no reason for not doing it. Two
other trunks were opened, and the furs brought out. Then the lady
went on deck again, after thanking me most profusely. Raoul was more
reticent. He was not the tongue-lashing Frenchman he looked. He seemed
preoccupied; but all very rich and powerful men seem that way to me,
and after all I was but the chief officer. Perhaps the skipper would
have drawn him out more.
Nothing happened until we were within sight of the Nantucket Shoals
lightship. That night the countess and her husband were on deck, and,
the air being cool, they were well wrapped in furs. I watched them
from the bridge. They kept well forward, near the starboard forward
lifeboat. That was my boat under the drill orders, and I remembered it
afterward.
It was about two bells--nine o'clock in the evening--when there was a
most terrific roar from below. The ship shook as though torn asunder.
As I gazed aft, the deck seemed to rise and blow outboard. Something
struck me heavily, and I was down and out for a few minutes. When I
arose with ringing ears, I looked aft again, hardly realizing that I
was awake and not dreaming. The siren was roaring full blast, and a
throng of men and women were rushing forward toward the bridge. Old
Hall came out of his room half dressed, and ran to me.
"What is it--what's happened?" he yelled in my ear.
"Don't know," I howled, and even then I didn't believe I was awake.
The chief engineer ran up.
"Starboard engine room full, sir--something blowed up below--whole side
gone above water line--won't float ten minutes," he howled.
"For God's sake, shut off that siren, then!" yelled old man Hall. Then,
turning to me, he ordered: "Stand by the boats, and get the passengers
out."
In a few minutes the roar of the steam stopped. Hall stood calmly upon
the bridge, and gave the orders for the small boats, and away they went
one after the other. The wireless was sending its call for help, but
there was no time for us to listen to replies; we had plenty to do.
The _Prince Gregory_ settled slowly by the stern, and raised her bows
high in the air. There she stopped, and, for a wonder, did not fall
from under us.
"Get into the boat, quick!" I said to the countess, and she sprang with
amazing ease into the stern, followed by her husband and the maid.
"Nix on the men!" I yelled, and grabbed the count. "Come out--women
first," and I dragged him from the boat with no show of deference. He
struck me savagely in the face, and I stretched him out with the boat's
tiller. Seamen tossed him aside, and the swarm of women crowded up and
into the craft while I held the men back as best I could.
I knew it was to be a close haul. Seven hundred men and women, and only
twenty boats! The life rafts would be doing duty pretty soon, and no
mistake.
I saw very little of the fracas around me, as one never does see much
if he is tending to his own business, and mine at that time was getting
forty-five women into a small boat, many of them in before she was
lowered away.
Luckily there was no sea running at all. It was calm and foggy, the
water like black oil.
I slid down the falls, and when we loaded up I took command at the
tiller, and went out a little distance to clear the wreck in case of
trouble. We lay at rest a hundred fathoms distant, and watched the
scuffle aboard. Men yelled like mad, screamed, and fought. I caught
the flash of a gun, and heard the report. I knew Hall would not stand
for lawless rushing the boats, and was doing some fierce work. Pretty
soon the outcry died away more and more, and still the black hull
showed plainly, her bow still pointing skyward, and her stern submerged.
"God's blessing, there's no wind or sea!" I said to Driscoll, my stroke
oarsman.
"You're right there, cap," said he. "What wus ut anyway?"
"Blessed if I knew--she's just blowed up, whole stern gone out of her.
She can't float two hours, and there'll be no one out here before
daybreak if they do get the signal."
"You brute!" exclaimed the countess, who was sitting close to me. "Why
didn't you let my husband come in this boat?"
"If he was a man, he wouldn't have wanted to," I snapped, hot at the
insult.
"I notice _you_ are here, all right, you ruffian!" she retorted,
sneering. "What do you call yourself?"
I thought best not to answer her. Words with women are generally
wasted, and the woman always gets the last one, anyhow. The countess
had always been so courteous and gentle that I supposed the excitement
had turned her head; and then, after all, I had treated her husband
a bit rough. He was a gentleman, and I was only a mate. That made a
difference in her point of view, although I can't say it did so much in
my own.
I talked to Driscoll, and watched the _Prince Gregory_ as she lay there
in the oily sea. Boats came and went toward the light vessel, and,
thinking it would be a good thing to get rid of my cargo, I trailed off
after the bunch, and was soon alongside the lightship.
As fast as we could, we sent the women aboard, finding that the little
ship would hold hundreds of passengers, in spite of her diminutive
size. Inside of half an hour, she had fully five hundred people in her,
and was jammed to the rails, below and on deck. Still, it was better
than an open boat, and I kept bringing them by scores, until there
were no more, save a few boatloads, and these we kept afloat in the
lifeboats.
During this time I thought little, or not at all, about the count.
The ship still hung by her after bulkhead, and Lord knows the man who
set it in her deserves praise enough. How it stood that strain is a
wonder to this day. If there had been any sea running she would have
gone down like a stone, for no unbraced cross-section of a ship can
stand the surge of ten thousand tons in a seaway. It must have burst
like blotting paper when wetted down. With ten men--all second-class
passengers--in my boat besides the crew, I went back to the ship for
the last time, and watched old man Hall as he stood upon the bridge.
I could just make him out through the hazy gloom of the night, but I
could hear his voice distinctly, as he gave orders to the few men who
stayed with him.
"Do you want any more help, sir?" I asked, coming alongside.
"What's that--you, Jack?" he answered. "No, I reckon not. She'll hang
on for hours, if the weather remains calm like this. All the passengers
safe?"
"All aboard the lightship, or hanging to her by painters--there's a
line of boats half a mile long trailing on behind her, and they're safe
enough, as they can't get lost as long as they hold to her. Tide runs
hard here on the edge of the Stream, but her wireless is going right
along, and she says two cutters left Boston half an hour ago, under
full steam--ought to be here before late in the morning, anyway. Never
lost a man, hey?"
"No," says he, "not that I know of; and that's some remarkable, too."
I thought it was, also, but said nothing more for a few moments,
watching the half-sunken hull slowly rolling from side to side in the
smooth swell.
While I watched I saw the form of a man coming from aft, along the
rail of the main deck, which was just awash. As every one had left the
after part of the ship and the engine room abandoned, I thought this
strange, and watched the figure until it came almost amidships. Then it
disappeared in the cabin.
"More men aft, sir?" I asked Hall, who still stood leaning upon the
bridge rail, waiting for help.
"No, no one left aboard--just Jenkins and his crew of four men--myself,
that's all." Jenkins was carpenter.
"Saw a man coming from aft, sir--must be some passenger overlooked.
Shall I jump up, and see to him?"
"All right," came the response, and almost before he spoke the men who
waited on their oars shoved the boat astern until she was almost level
with the sunken deck. I sprang out of her, and sung to them to lie by
and keep clear of the captain's boat, which lay alongside, just forward
of us, waiting until the old man found it necessary to leave.
I made my way in through the passageway to the saloon, and found the
deck still clear of water, although the sucking roar and surge of the
sea beneath told of the immense volume in the lower decks. The lights
had long gone out, with the drowning of the dynamos, and I felt for a
cabin door, intending to grab one of the emergency candles which are
always in place on the bulkheads.
I found one, and struck a light; then made my way along the passage in
front of the lower staterooms, calling at intervals for any one who
might be near and unable to realize the peril of a foundering ship. I
admit it was some ticklish. I had my hair raised more than once when
the ship took a more than usually heavy roll, and the rushing thunders
below started with renewed force. What if she should drop? It was a bad
thought, and not tending to still my pulse. I couldn't help thinking of
the thousand fathoms or so of blue sea beneath my feet----
I thought I heard a footstep crossing the passage in front of me. It is
strange how, above the general thunder of rushing water, a slight sound
makes itself evident. It was like standing upon the shore during the
running of a heavy surf. One can almost talk in a whisper while the
thunder reverberates along the coast.
A shadow crossed in front of me, and I hailed again. It was a man, and
he was coming from below, from the sunken lower decks. He came up the
staircase of the lower saloon, and darted along the passageway to port.
"Hey, there! Stop!" I yelled.
The man turned, and in an instant I recognized him. It was the Vicomte
Raoul.
He eyed me with a savage look, and waited for me to come up.
"What ees it you want?" he growled.
"Just you!" I told him. "Don't you know you are in danger of getting
killed down here?"
"And how does that matter interest you?" he retorted, with those
shrugging shoulders and arched eyebrows he could handle so well.
"It don't, except that, as I'm an officer, it's my duty to see you
leave the ship under orders of the captain."
"I noticed you were not so queek to have me leave dees sheep when
I first started," he sneered, "and eef I go back for my jewels, my
valuables, eet ees no affaire of yours--eh?"
"It is only to the extent that I must see you off the vessel," I said.
We were standing near the after companionway, and I noticed the
splintered planking, where the force of the explosion had blown it
upward. It was directly over the baggage room, where the trunks were
stowed below. This was now under six to ten feet of clear water.
"If you want to get into your trunks, you will have to be a good
diver," I said. "There's no chance in the world of getting below
here--she's flooded full to the after bulkheads number four in the wake
of the starboard engines. You couldn't do a thing below if you got
there."
In a more courteous tone, the count explained:
"Eet is a matter of small valuables in my room, not my trunk. Go along
like a good fellow, and I will follow instantly. I just go below to my
room--I come with you instantly--go!"
"Well, I'll wait here if it don't take too long," I said. "It's against
orders, and if anything happens to you I'll get it, all right. Hurry
up, and beat it back--the boat's waiting, and the ship'll drop any
minute. It's only that number four bulkhead holding her."
"Ah, yes, dat number four! Eet ees just at my stateroom door, zat
number four you call heem. Wait, my good fellow, I come immediate," and
he went down the companionway, which was knee-deep at the bottom in sea
water.
He splashed through the shallow wash, and disappeared along the
gloomy passage, where the candlelight failed. I stood above and
waited, holding my breath at times, and cursing the luck that made
me weak enough to allow him to do such a foolish thing as go below
for valuables. However, I had treated him pretty rough at the first
getaway, and felt he had a right to some consideration.
Suddenly I remembered that his stateroom was not below on that
main deck! It seemed to me he had rooms forward and above; but the
excitement had caused me to forget this detail, and I was so taken up,
even at the time, that I only remembered it in a half-dazed way. What
did he want below, then?
I waited, and the minutes flew by, seeming long enough. The candle ran
its hot grease down upon my hand, and burned it. I was getting sore and
impatient at the wait. If anything happened, I could never be given a
reprimand, for I would never show up to receive it. The ship would go
down and take me with her, all right enough. I hadn't a chance in the
world--and I was waiting there for a count, a man who had sprung into
the mate's boat to get clear, when there were hundreds of women waiting
and screaming to go!
There was a sharp explosion from below. The ship shook a little, and
rolled to port.
"Just Heaven! Did that bulkhead go?"
A form tore down the passageway, splashed through the water at the foot
of the companion, and was upon me in an instant. Raoul struck me fairly
between the eyes, and I went down to sleep--that was all I remember
of the inside of the _Prince Gregory_, as she lay foundering off the
Shoals.
When I came to, I was in the boat, with Driscoll bending over me and
pouring sea water upon my head. The dark stain showed me that I was
bleeding fast, and the sailor tore off the sleeve of his jumper, and
tied it about my forehead. I tried to sit up, but everything swam and
rolled about me horribly. Finally I managed to get my head up.
"What's happened?" I asked.
"Bulkhead gave way, sir," he told me. "You was hit on the head by
wreckage. I run in after you, an' jest managed to git you clear. She's
gone, sir!"
"What! The ship?" I cried.
"Sure, sir."
"And the old man--Jenkins, and the rest of them?"
"All got clear just in time--seems like Jenkins and his gang were at
the bulkhead from forrards, trying to shore it up, when _bing!_ she
went, and them as was left beat it--all got clear, sir."
"See anything of a passenger--that chap we had a run-in with at the
first getaway?" I asked.
"Yes, sir; one man got away in the skipper's boat--that's them headin'
for the lightship over there," and he pointed to a blur that showed
through the hazy night. I began to gather my senses again, but I
couldn't make head or tail of it. What did that fellow nail me for? I
had hit him, to be sure; but that was for a purpose. He surely intended
to fix me, all right. About a minute more, and I would have gone with
the ship.
"Cowardly rat!" I whispered.
"Who?" asked Driscoll.
"That white-livered dog who knocked me out," I said, gritting my teeth
at the thought.
"Better lie quiet, sir; better keep still--you're bug a bit, but will
be all right to-morrow. Does it hurt you much, sir?"
"Shut up!" I commanded ungratefully, and Driscoll gazed at me
sorrowfully, pulling away again at his oar, for we were now almost to
the lightship.
All that night we lay trailing astern. There was a long line of
lifeboats reaching nearly half a mile back, all hanging to the taffrail
of the ship.
About daylight she got in touch with a passing passenger ship, bound
in, and while we were busy shifting the hundreds of passengers the
cutters showed up, and helped to expedite matters by towing the small
boats. Before breakfast time we had all the outfit aboard and away for
New York. Hall and myself went aboard the cutter _Eagle_. We waited
for several hours, to see if there were anything more to find drifting
about, and then away we went for home, thanking the captain of the
Nantucket Shoals lightship for what he had done.
"I don't understand it at all--don't seem to be just right," repeated
Hall over and over to the captain of the cutter. "She just blew
up--that's all there is to it. We had a drove of miners aboard, and you
know how hard it is to keep those fellows from carrying explosives in
their dunnage. You simply can't stop to search them. There was probably
a couple of hundred pounds of blasting powder, at the least--went off
like a mine blowing up a battleship. That bulkhead in the wake of the
starboard engine room saved us--that's all!"
I was out of a ship. When we got in, the manager laid me off for a
month, and then gave me the second greaser's berth on the old _Prince
Leander_, a bum ship--and that's a fact. When I reached the other
side again, I saw by the papers that a certain Frenchman had tried to
collect nearly a million francs on his insurance for cargo and personal
belongings in the _Prince Gregory_. It seems that he had shipped tons
of expensive machinery and had insured it fully. The stuff was cased
tightly, but one case marked for him had broken while being handled on
the dock, and nothing but bricks fell out.
The insurance companies held up the claim. I hurried to the consul's
office, and told of the episode of the trunk, and how I was hit
over the nut by a certain French gentleman during the fracas. The
description answered to the man of machinery, and when I told of that
last little crack I had heard below, the consul waited not on the order
of his going, but ordered a cab and fairly threw me into it. We tore to
the office of the underwriters, and I told my tale. Then I began to see
the light, at last.
It was the old game tried under a new guise--and it had nearly cost the
lives of a half thousand human beings. The horror of it appalled me,
and I found myself wondering if I were to be trusted about without a
nurse again. However, I was not censured severely. The crook was well
known to the police, and since then the police of many countries have
been trying to locate a gentleman who answers to the description of the
Vicomte Raoul de Amadoun.
CAPTAIN JUNARD
Captain Junard awoke suddenly from a sound sleep. He listened intently
for a few moments. The steady vibrations of the ship's engines told of
the unchecked motion, the unhindered rush of the ship through the sea.
Yet something had awakened him, something had given him a start from a
dreamless sleep, the sleep of a tired man. He knew that something was
wrong, felt it, and wondered at it, while his heart began to sound the
alarm by its increasing pulsations. He wondered if he were sick, had
eaten something that might produce nightmare; but he felt very well,
and knew he never started at trifles. His hand reached for the revolver
at the head of his bunk. He always kept it there for emergencies. It
was a heavy forty-five, with a long, blue barrel--a strong weapon that
had stood him handily in several affairs aboard the steamer. The light
in his room was dim, but there was enough of it to show him that his
room was empty. His hand reached the spot where the weapon usually
hung, but failed to reach it. He groped softly for several moments.
There was nothing upon the bulkhead; the gun was gone.
This fact made a peculiar impression upon him. He felt now that
his instinct was correct, that he was indeed in danger. His mind
cleared quickly from the stupor of sound sleep, and he remembered.
He was carrying papers of peculiar importance in his strong box, or
safe--papers relating to a deal in shipping connected with a revolution
in a Central American state. A rival line had tried to stop the affair,
which grew into political importance when secret agents of the United
States tried to find out how deeply it might affect the Panama Canal.
The concession had not been granted. The Canal Zone was not yet in
existence, and the United States was sure to get it if this deal went
through. The president had watched the affair with hungry eyes. Now the
papers were in his--Junard's--possession, aboard his ship, bound for
the state department in Washington.
Junard started up when he found his hand missing the butt of that
revolver. It had been a pleasant fancy to him when he remembered its
solid grip and deadly accuracy, a dependable friend in the hours of
darkness and distress. Now it was gone, and could not have gone without
some one having taken it. If they took it, they took it to keep him
from using it. The idea of its loss awakened him more than anything
else, and sent his heart beating fast as with sudden quickness and
energy he sprang from his bed. There was nothing in his room, nothing
at all. The lamp burned low. The electrics had been switched off, as
they gave too much light for him to sleep in. Junard stood wondering,
studying, and gazing at his safe, which lay bolted to the deck in a
corner of his room.
The captain's room was just abaft the pilot house, as is usual in
ships of that class. A stairway, or companion, of five steps led to
the pilot house, but these were cut flush with his room and into the
floor of the house above, so that he could shut the door. The door was
shut now as he looked, but the sound of the steering gear told him
that the man at the wheel, within a dozen feet of him, was steering
and attending apparently to his business. The room ran clear across
the superstructure, opening with a door upon either side. To starboard
was his bathroom, to port was a closet, which adjoined the room of the
chief officer, being separated from it by the bulkhead. Both these
rooms led aft and opened into his room by doors in the bulkhead. This
made his room a complete section of the superstructure about twelve
feet deep and running clear through. There was nothing in it that could
hide any one. A table, a couch with leather cushions, several chairs,
and a large desk completed the furniture. His bed was a large double
bunk let in to port and hung with curtains. It somewhat resembled an
old four-poster bed.
Junard walked quickly to the safe. It was locked. He smiled at himself.
The absurdity of the thing almost made him laugh. And yet he was as
nervous as a ship's cat when watching a strange dog. He opened the door
leading to the pilot house. The man in there was standing in regulation
pose, with his hands upon the spokes of the steam steering gear. The
sudden rattle and clank told Junard the fellow was awake and alert.
The dim light from the binnacle made his outline plainly discernible,
and Junard recognized him as Swan, a quartermaster of long service and
excellent ability.
"How's she heading, Swan?" whispered the captain.
"No'the, two east, sir," said the man, with a slight start. The words
had come to him from the gloom behind him, and he had not heard the
door open.
"That's right; they haven't reported the Cape yet?"