A VOICE FROM THE WATER
A perfect tropical night crept down on us, with the sky a deep and
velvety blue, and the stars low enough to touch. Brilliant
phosphorescence dashed from our bow and a silvery streak trailed in our
wake emphasizing the enchantment as the _Whim_ rose, leaned, and dipped
over the bosom of the breathing Gulf. So, also, were my hopes; now up,
now down, on the breast of another fickle monster. Love and the sea!
Have they not always been counterparts? Do they not span the known and
unknown in each man's world, carrying some in safety--others destroying?
It must have been nine o'clock when the forward watch called and,
springing to the rail, peering through the darkness, we saw down upon
the horizon the fixed white eye and three red sectors of the Key West
light.
"A good run, Gates."
"Nothing of our size can beat it, sir."
"You think the _Orchid_ will be in harbor?"
"I carn't say, sir. She had six hours' start of us, and could have
left."
"How long do we lay off this burg?" Tommy asked, sauntering up.
"That depends. If the mysterious yacht's here we'll stay till something
happens."
"And if she isn't," he nudged the professor, "we'll comb out the
universe. You get that, don't you? A nice fat job, I'll say it is!
How'll we know which way to start? Gates, couldn't you get a peep at her
papers in the port?" But the skipper solemnly shook his head, saying:
"It carn't be done, sir."
"Well, Jack, when customs are finished we'll take the launch and comb
out the harbor, anyhow! She'll be anchored nearby, like as not."
Not caring to tie up at the dock we chose a berth far enough out to
escape the electric glare ashore, and had hardly swung-to when Gates was
off in his gig to clear our papers. The port officials were astir and
accommodatingly looked us over without loss of time, for the skipper had
mentioned our wish to leave whenever the spirit moved us. Those, indeed,
had been his identical words, and I wondered if they were
prophetic--whenever the spirit moved us!
They were a nice pair of fellows, those American officers, and before
going into business--a mere formality in our case--we gathered in the
cockpit for a long straw and a bowl of ice. The occasion was more
agreeable for possessing that sense of aloofness one feels at being on
the edge, yet safely beyond the reach, of a little city's night
diversions and excitements.
"I suppose you've nothing dutiable," one said, knowing we had left
Havana unexpectedly soon.
"Nothing," Tommy volunteered.
"But, yes," Monsieur exclaimed. "I shall declare!"
"About the only thing he brought away was a wad of money from a roulette
game," I laughed.
"Ah, I surprise you," he cried, in high good humor, ducking below; and
was soon heard struggling up the stairs, crying: "Give me help!"
Into our hands then he began thrusting packages of cigars; packages
containing a dozen boxes each, until the cockpit looked like moving day
in a tobacco shop. Behind the last of these, he came.
"Oh, _la la_," Tommy's jaw dropped. "Where did you tie up with this
stuff? We've been together all the time!"
"Not all the time," the professor chuckled. "Before you were awake this
morning I was in town for camera supplies, and brought back, also, much
of that most genial and ameliorating of influences exerted upon us in
life--cigars! How much do I pay?"
"How many have you?"
"Ten thousand."
"Ten thousand cigars!" We stared at him.
"That's a lot of ameliorating influence," one of the officers laughed.
"But, in spite of it, I'll have to charge you on nine thousand, nine
hundred--unless a hundred belong to each of your friends. Everyone's
entitled to bring in a hundred free."
"A hundred are mine," Tommy spoke up at once. "I haven't won cigars so
fast, ever! Jack, you for a hundred. Gates, you, too. Colonel," he
turned to the officer--out of the Army he scattered the titles of
Colonel, Judge, Governor and Parson with a free hand--"suppose you all
take a hundred each. It'll be a whole lot cheaper for Sir Walter, here!"
The professor was giggling.
"They have cost me nothing," he cried, "for last night I have won almost
a thousand dollars at that wretched place--see, here is plenty with
which to pay!"
And a fortunate thing it was that he had, being called on for something
in the neighborhood of three hundred dollars.
The officer--Hardwick, by name--and his associate were good fellows, as
I have said. They had greeted us as congenial spirits and, probably on
this account, I noticed some embarrassment on his part when he leaned
into the light and slowly looked over the money Monsieur had given him.
The rest of us were conversing in a more or less distrait fashion till
this unpleasant duty should be finished, when he took an electric torch
from his pocket and flashed it on one of the bills; then on another, and
so through the lot. Hesitatingly he touched Monsieur's arm, asking:
"Is this the money you won last night?"
"That? It is just as they paid me."
A moment of silence, then:
"I'm sorry to tell you, but these two fifty-dollar bills are
counterfeits."
There ensued an absolute hush, and before my eyes arose the vision of
Sylvia's father paying his supper check with a crisp fifty.
"Counterfeit," the professor mused, putting out a hand for them and
moving nearer the light. "Strange! Just today I was speaking of a
counterfeiter!" And Tommy, in an awed voice, asked:
"You don't think it's more dreams?"
The officials, I rather suspected, were beginning to look at us askance.
Our various attitudes at this discovery were scarcely in accordance with
the usually accepted actions of innocent people; on the contrary, with
but a grain of imagination, we might be branded as a trio of rascals
trying to stall out of a tight place. My apprehension was more confirmed
when Hardwick, a shade less cordial, said:
"As a United States official, I should like to hear your views about
these."
Now Tommy looked across at me and I saw that he was awake. Monsieur, on
the other hand, remained blissfully indifferent that anything might be
out of the ordinary--except, of course, being loaded with a hundred
dollars of bad money, which does not happen every day.
"My counterfeiter?" he smiled innocently. "Yes, he could have done
these. His plates are all but perfect. And these bills--you will admit
they almost fooled you!" Whereupon he laughed.
Tommy fidgeted, saying:
"Have a care, gezabo, or you'll be sending us to the rock pile!"
"My friend is cut-upping," Monsieur beamed on the official, but met with
no more hearty response than the dry acquiescence:
"I've no doubt of it. But suppose you tell me more of your other
friend--the counterfeiter!"
"Friend? _My_ friend?" Monsieur's face now became the picture of horror.
"I was telling these boys of one who disappeared years ago, and
afterwards the police showed me some plates found in his rooms! _My_
friend!"
Hardwick began to laugh.
"Please accept my apologies, but, really, for the moment----"
"Don't mention it," Tommy interrupted him, handing across a newly opened
box of cigars. "I understand you--the professor couldn't!"
Returning to the important subject, Hardwick said:
"Whoever put these out is probably in Cuba. You got them at the
cafe----?"
"Quite so," Monsieur exclaimed, warming up with the notion of doing
detective work. "I was playing roulette--but, pardon me, you have
heard."
"Do you remember any one around the table who showed new-looking bills?"
"No. We were the only ones playing, and but a few were looking on."
"The restaurant was crowded," Tommy said, "and connects with the
gambling rooms. Mightn't they send money back and forth if needed?"
"Quite probable."
In the silence that followed I started twice to tell him that Sylvia's
father had used a new bill of that denomination, yet the words would not
come. It seemed a sneaky thing to do, after she had turned to me for
help. Yet, if she were in danger, what quicker way to safety than arrest
the old vulture who had her in his power? So I said:
"Mr. Hardwick, last night in that restaurant I saw a man----" but this
time something stopped my words. It was a voice, a girl's voice,
beautiful with an impassioned ring of protest, that cried from some
place near us on the water:
"It isn't fair!"
It isn't fair! Oh, the just and pleading accusation of that cry! I
sprang up, loudly calling her name:
"Sylvia!"
There was not a breath of sound. Those with whom I had been conversing
were as mute as graven images, but in the black pall just beyond our
taffrail drifted the magnetic presence toward which every nerve and
fiber of my body pointed;--pointed, aye, tugged and wrestled with my
poor flesh to be free! Yet, silence; all silence. No sound, no vision,
no anything to guide me, other than my flashing brain and thumping heart
which spoke of her.
I saw one of our sailors staring at the water with strange owlish eyes,
and yelled at him:
"Into the gig, man!"
But this was frustrated before he moved, for some black shadow, showing
vaguely, glided out from beneath our rail and disappeared. I could not
be sure that I saw it, but the sailor did because he crossed himself.
"It ain't no use--now, sir," he managed to say.
My own eyes were trying to follow the eerie, silent thing which had
passed so spookily into the night, leaving the merest suggestion of
phosphorescence after it. Then an arm slipped affectionately about my
shoulders, and I felt that Tommy was also standing by, looking along the
trail of deadened sound. His face showed excitement, but he whispered
steadily enough:
"Come and sit down."
Indeed, now that the thing had disappeared, I felt like an ass; and,
resuming my seat, attempted to make the best of it.
"Really," I laughed, "you fellows mustn't judge a man too critically.
There was something in the voice of that young lady which took me off my
guard, and recalled--well, it recalled what you've all probably had
recalled by one means or another, at some time or other, during
your--er--lives." And I gave a weakish smile, waving my hand toward any
old thing in sight by way of saying: "You know, old chaps, how just that
one girl plays the devil with a fellow, sometimes!"
But the government officials received this in a different spirit than
that which I had hoped to arouse. They looked at me with a gravity most
disquieting, and Hardwick, suspicion written in every line of his face,
asked:
"Is the young lady a member of your party?"
"Heavens, no," I answered quickly. "Oh, no," I vigorously repeated. "We
don't know her, at all--none of us!"
An ominous silence followed this emphatic denial, and I could actually
_feel_ him making up his mind about us. It was an awful moment. At last
Tommy flecked the ash from his cigar and, with great deliberation,
asked:
"Colonel, do you believe in ghosts?"
"If you're serious," Hardwick snapped, "I certainly do not!"
"I'm serious, all right," Tommy purred, and I knew, from the unusually
soft quality of his voice, that, indeed, he was--"for, if you don't
believe in ghosts, you believe we're a bunch of damn crooks--oh, yes you
do!--and I may say that if you don't, you're a damn fool. _Now_ you see
how serious I am, and how serious this affair is! This man was telling
the exact truth when he said that none of us have ever heard that voice.
If we actually did hear it just now, the coincidence that brought a
small boat past us at this time of night, and prompted some woman in it
to speak when and what she did, is more inexplicable to me than you
think it is to you--because you've made up your mind to understand it. I
can, however, understand how any sweet voice on a night like this might
make my friend skid off his usually sane and normal track, because----"
he hesitated, adding slowly: "Hardwick, I can't go into my friend's
private affairs, but I wish to tell you that he's had a hell of a jolt,
and on account of a memory--a memory, Hardwick--we're at Key West
tonight. I trust, sir, that you won't misjudge, but rather fit these
fragments and supply the needed others; for I know that your
appreciation of--er--things is too delicate to allow me to proceed."
Be it noted that Tommy did tell but the simple truth; and, what is
more, he told it with such sincerity that, in a large measure, our
embarrassment became shifted over to our guests. Personally, I felt like
a howling ass to be staked out and exhibited as somebody's jilted Romeo,
but this was a welcome compromise; thrice welcome, since Hardwick's next
words showed that he had forgotten, or dismissed, the prelude to my
burst of confidence about "a man in the restaurant," for arising he
said:
"Well, we've kept you longer than we should. If this gentleman will give
my government good money for its revenue we'll bid you _bon voyage_. I
suppose there's no objection to my keeping those?" He pointed to the
spurious bills.
"I have paid dearly for them," the professor remonstrated.
"I'm sorry, but you won't lose any more than you've already lost--nor
gain more, as you won't think of using them!"
"Why should I not use them? I will use them--_certainement!_"
"Be explicit, or forever hold your peace," Tommy laughed. "Can't you see
the man reaching for his handcuffs?"
But Monsieur, thoroughly aroused, waved the crisp bills with a great
show of indignation, crying:
"If there is a way to run this cheat to earth I, alone, will know it!
Then you will want me to be telling you! For my own pleasure I have made
a study of counterfeiters and their methods. Perhaps it may surprise you
to learn that the police of Europe come to Bucharest and consult with
me, eh? Thus, if I may also help you, I must retain my bills!"
We laughed, although I felt tremendously proud of the professor, having
had no idea he was such a wonder; and Hardwick said, bowing:
"Then help yourself so I, also, may be helped. But let me take one for
my government and, when you finish with the other, mail it to me with
your report. I shall appreciate your assistance, really."
Monsieur was delighted.
They left us then, and again we settled about the cockpit; each waiting
for one of the others to begin. My own thoughts were like a whirlwind,
and my ears strained with listening toward the black Gulf--listening for
a voice, or the unnamable noise of the gods knew what, that might float
to me across the water. I think Tommy half expected me to suggest that
we take one of the small boats, and went to his room to put on darker
clothes. In a few minutes Monsieur yawned and followed him--though I
rather suspected that his yawn was caused more by nervousness than the
want of sleep. A moment later Gates, standing near the wheel, softly
called my name, so I arose and went to him.
It must be remembered that Gates was absolutely dependable. There were
no frills about the old skipper, he shared not one superstitious
sentiment in common with Tommy, and it is extremely doubtful if he knew
the sensation of fear; therefore, when I saw his face, I was astonished,
and in alarm asked:
"Are you ill?"
"No, sir, but I'm sore upset. Please come a bit more aft, sir."
Taking a few steps till we were abaft the traveler, he turned and
whispered:
"Mr. Jack, someone's been trying to blow us up!"