A SEA COURT
"Mr. Rogers, take the deck!" commanded Captain Hamilton sharply. "You
bullies, get forward with you!" he added to the curious men of the
watch. "Don't any of you lose sight of the fact that if it were a
seaman instead of a passenger who attacked Mr. Ditty, he'd be in the
chain-locker now.
"Drew, you and Tyke come below with me. When you've washed your face,
Mr. Ditty, I want to see you there too. Mr. Rogers!"
"Aye, aye, sir!" responded the second officer, smartly.
"Pass the word forward. Has anybody seen Mr. Parmalee or does any of
them know personally what's happened to him? No second-hand tales,
mind you."
"Aye, aye, sir."
With all his rage and confusion of mind, Drew realized that easy-going,
peace-loving Captain Hamilton had suddenly become another and entirely
different being.
Even Ruth descried no softness in her father's countenance now. She
noted that his eye sparkled dangerously. He waved her before him, and
she fled down the companionway steps ahead of Drew and Grimshaw.
"Now, what's all this about?" the master of the _Bertha Hamilton_
demanded, facing Drew across the cabin table.
"Oh, Father!" gasped Ruth. "That--that--Mr. Ditty says Mr. Parmalee is
murdered and that Allen did it!"
"That's neither here nor there," said the captain sternly. "I don't
believe that any more than you do. But what is this between Ditty and
Mr. Drew? They went at each other like two bulldogs that have nursed a
grudge for a year.
"Now, I want to know what it means, Drew. I heard--Ruth told me--of
the little run-in you had with Ditty the day you first met my daughter
on the Jones Lane pier," pursued Captain Hamilton. "Ruth was carrying
a letter to Captain Peters for me. The _Normandy_ is bound for Hong
Kong, where I'd just come from, and Peters and I have mutual friends
out there. I forgot something I wanted Ruth to tell Captain Peters,
and I asked Ditty, who had shore leave, to waylay her and give her my
message. She'd never seen Ditty, and he startled her. He isn't a
beauty, I admit. But now, what happened after that between you two,
Drew?"
"Nothing at all that day," said the young man promptly. "But another
day I was over there, at the _Normandy_, to see--er--Captain Peters,
and this fellow showed up half drunk and gave me the dirty side of his
tongue. I knocked him down."
"Seems to me you're mighty sudden with your fists," growled Captain
Hamilton.
"And Mr. Grimshaw can tell you something about Ditty, too," Drew began;
but the master of the schooner stopped him.
"Never mind about that. We're discussing your affair with Ditty. I've
got to judge between you two. I'm judge, jury, and hangman in this
case--until we make some port where there's a consul, at least. Now,
here's the mate. No more fighting, remember or I'll take a hand in it
myself."
The battered Ditty stumbled down the cabin steps. He could scarcely
see out of his single eye; but that eye glittered malevolently when it
fell upon Allen Drew.
"Sit down, Mr. Ditty," said the captain evenly. "We've got to get to
the bottom of this business. You've said something, Mr. Ditty, that's
got to go down on the log--and it's going to make you a peck of trouble
if you don't prove it. You understand that?"
"I know it," snarled Ditty, through his puffed lips. "He done it."
"You lying hound!" muttered Drew.
Captain Hamilton ignored this. He said:
"What makes you say that Mr. Drew flung Mr. Parmalee overboard?"
"Because I seen him do it," answered Ditty.
Drew started for the mate again, but Tyke held him back.
"Go ahead, Mr. Ditty. Tell your story," commanded the captain curtly.
"They was both standin' abaft the mizzen," the mate began, "and I heard
'em quarrelin' about something. I went there, thinkin' to stop 'em if
it was anything serious, and jest as I got near 'em I seen Mr. Parmalee
up and hit Mr. Drew on the head with his cane. Then, before you could
say Jack Robinson, Mr. Drew picked up Mr. Parmalee as if he had been a
baby and threw him over the rail."
There was a stifled murmur from the group.
"Why didn't you give the alarm and lower a boat?" asked the captain.
"I was goin' to, but Mr. Drew turned round and saw me. He whipped a
gun out of his pocket and swore he'd shoot me if I gave the alarm or
said a word. He held me under the point of his gun till it was too
late to lower a boat, and only let me go after I promised him I'd keep
mum about the hull thing."
"You're a fine sailorman," charged the captain bitterly, "to let a man
drown without doing anything to help him! Why didn't you take a
chance?"
"He had the drop on me," mumbled the mate.
The captain turned to Drew.
"What about it?" he asked.
"Do I have to deny such a yarn?" the young man burst out hotly. "What
can I say except that this infernal scoundrel is lying? The whole
ridiculous story is as new to me as it is to you. The last time I saw
Mr. Parmalee was when he was standing beside me on the deck last night.
I never laid a finger on him!"
"Where were you standing?" asked the captain.
"Just where Ditty says I was," replied Drew frankly. "That part of the
story is true. And it's the only thing in it that is true."
"Did you have any unfriendly words with Mr. Parmalee?"
"Not a word," was the answer.
"Ask him if he ever had any quarrel with him afore that," snarled the
mate.
"I know all about that," replied the captain sharply. "I was there
myself. It was just a little misunderstanding, and it blew over in a
minute."
"Ev'ry one on board knows there was bad blood 'twixt 'em," put in the
mate, "and they come pretty nigh to guessin' the reason for it, too,"
he added with a leering glance at Ruth.
"Stop, you dog!" shouted the captain in sudden rage. "If you say
another word along that line I'll knock you down!"
The mate took a step backward, and mumbled an apology.
"Go on, Drew," ordered the captain. "When did you lose sight of Mr.
Parmalee?"
"I slipped on the deck and struck my head on the corner of the
hatch-cover. Mr. Parmalee was with me at the time. I lost my senses
from the blow, and when I came to, Parmalee wasn't there. I remember
thinking it strange that he hadn't helped me when I fell, but I was
dizzy and confused and soon forgot about it. If I thought of him at
all, it was to suppose that he had gone to his room. I fully expected
to see him at the breakfast table this morning, and I was as much
surprised as you were when he didn't turn up."
His story was told so frankly and simply that it carried conviction.
But Ditty still had a card up his sleeve. He went over to the open
companion-way.
"Give me that cane, Bill," he called to a sailor standing at a little
distance.
The man obeyed, and a thrill went through the group as they recognized
it as having belonged to Lester Parmalee. Ruth was making a strong
effort for self-control.
"Look at the blood-stains on this cane," said Ditty triumphantly, as he
handed it over to the captain.
There were, in truth, dark red stains on the end of the cane, standing
out clearly in contrast with the light oak color of the stick itself.
"That's where the cut on Mr. Drew's head come from, jest as I says,"
proclaimed Ditty.
"And what's more," he went on, "there ain't any blood on the edge of
the hatch cover."
"No, there wouldn't be," muttered Tyke, "for the deck was washed down
this morning, of course."
"Do you own a pistol, Drew?" asked Captain Hamilton, after a painful
pause.
"Yes," admitted the accused man. "I have an automatic. It's in my
stateroom now. But I haven't carried it since I came on board the
ship. I didn't have it on me last night."
The captain mused for a moment in evident perplexity.
"Well," he said, rising to his feet, "that's all, Mr. Ditty. I'll
think this over and figure out what it's best to do."
"Ain't you goin' to put him in irons?" asked the mate truculently.
"That's none of your business," snapped the master of the schooner.
"I'm captain of this craft, and I'll do as I think best. You are
relieved from duty for the present. Lord man! but you're a sight."
Ditty wavered as though some impudent reply were forming on his tongue;
but he thought better of it beneath the steady gaze of the captain's
eyes and turned to go. He could not, however, forbear a parting shot.
"You can see from the way he went at me what a savage temper he's got,"
he said. "He'd 've killed me if he could 've. And if he'd do that to
me for what I said, what would 've stopped his doin' it to a man who
had already hit him?"
"That'll do, Mr. Ditty!" snapped the captain again.
Tyke left no doubt as to where he stood. Out of respect for the
captain, he had left the inquiry entirely in his hands, but now he
hobbled over to Drew and clapped him vigorously on the shoulder.
"Brace up, my boy!" he exclaimed. "I don't know jest what the motive
of that swab is, but I know he was lying from first to last." Ruth was
sobbing, and could not speak, but her little hand stole into the young
man's, and he grasped it convulsively.
"I can't believe that you did it either, Drew," declared the captain;
but there was a lack of heartiness in his tone that Drew was quick to
detect. "I'll have to look into the whole matter as carefully as I
know how. Parmalee's disappearance must be accounted for. All we know
now is that he isn't to be found. I'll have the ship searched, but I
have little doubt but the poor fellow has gone overboard. In itself
that doesn't prove anything. He may have fallen over. But we can't
get away from the fact that one man says he knows how Parmalee came to
his death. He may be lying. I think he is. I hope to God he is. But
the whole matter will have to be taken up by the proper authorities as
soon as we get back to New York."
Drew's brain reeled. He saw himself in a court of justice, on trial
for his life, charged with a horrible crime that he had no means of
refuting, except by his own unsupported denial. And even if he were
acquitted, the black cloud of suspicion would hang over him forever.
"But I'm going to believe you're innocent until I'm forced to believe
the contrary," continued the captain; "and God help Ditty if I find
he's been lying!"
"He is lying," protested Drew passionately. "I never dreamed of
injuring Parmalee. Did I act like a murderer last night when you bound
up my head, Ruth?"
"No! no!" sobbed the girl.
"Did I act like a murderer at the table this morning?" Drew continued,
conscious that he was proving nothing, but clutching eagerly at every
straw.
"You're no more a murderer than I am!" almost shouted Tyke, moved to
the depth by Drew's distress.
"You're going to have the benefit of every doubt, my boy," the captain
assured him soothingly. "But now you'd better go to your room and try
to pull yourself together. We're all upset, and talking won't do us
any good until we've got something else to go on. But you have got to
promise me that you'll leave Ditty alone."
"I'll leave him alone if he leaves me alone."
"That is all I ask. I'll warn him to keep away from you."
Drew released Ruth's hand. She threw herself on her father's breast,
and the young man groped his way to his room. Once there, he sat down
and tried to face calmly the terrible indictment that had been made
against him.
He did not delude himself as to the bits of circumstantial evidence
that might be used to piece out that indictment to make it plausible.
What was Ditty's motive? He racked his brain in vain to find it.
There was, to be sure, the row upon the pier, but that had been only a
trifle, and the world would never believe that for anything like that a
man would swear away the life of another.
The previous quarrel between him and Lester Parmalee seemed to
establish the fact that there was bad blood between them. There was
the cut upon his head, received at the very time that Parmalee
disappeared. There were the blood stains on the cane, carrying the
inference that that stick in the hand of Parmalee had inflicted his
wound. He owned a revolver, which would bear out Ditty's statement
that the mate had been intimidated by it. Then there was his own
savage attack on Ditty, which showed his hot and impetuous temper.
He groaned as he saw what could be made of all these things in the
hands of a clever district attorney. He could see the picture that
would be drawn for the benefit of the jury. The old, old story--a
beautiful woman with two young and ardent suitors; one quarrel already
having occurred; a meeting in the dark; a renewal of the quarrel; an
attack by the weaker with a cane; the blow that turned the stronger
into a maddened beast and prompted him to grasp his frail rival and
throw him into the sea. What was more possible? What was more
probable? Jealousy had caused thousands of similar tragedies in the
history of the world.
And when to these damaging circumstances was added the testimony of a
declared eye-witness who seemed to have no sufficient reason for lying,
what would the jury do?
Drew shuddered, and his soul turned sick within him.
And Ruth! He ground his teeth in rage at the thought of her name being
dragged into the terrible story, as it certainly would be.
Even supposing that he should be given the benefit of the doubt and
discharged, his life would be utterly wrecked. He could not ask her to
share the life of a man who the world would believe owed his escape
from the penitentiary to luck rather than to his innocence. Even if
she were willing, he could not ask her to link her life with his.
All through that day and part of the next, he lived in an inferno. By
tacit consent, the members of the party refrained from talking of the
one thing about which all were thinking. When they met, they spoke of
indifferent matters, but there was a hideous feeling of restraint that
could not be dispelled, and gloom hung over them like a pall.
The morning of the second day, as they were cruising about in the
longitude and latitude indicated by the map, the voice of the lookout
resounded from the masthead.
"Land ho!"
"Where away?" shouted Rogers, who chanced to be officer of the deck.
"Three points on the weather bow," was the answer.
Rogers reported instantly to the captain, who came rushing on deck,
followed by the other members of the party.
The captain adjusted his binoculars and looked hard and long at a black
speck rising from the waves. Finally he dropped the glass.
"The hump of the whale!" he announced.