IN QUEST OF DOCUMENTS.
The anchor of the steamship _Borneo_ splashed into the yellow waters
of the Gulf of Paria, the boat continuing onward until the anchor had
taken a grip on the muddy bottom. The _Borneo_ was from Venezuelan
ports, and at La Guayra had picked up no less a personage than John
Henry Glennie, Ensign, U. S. N.
The steamer carried a queer assortment of passengers, and they were
all around Ensign Glennie as he sat well aft on the grating beside the
hand-steering gear.
Venezuelans were chattering like magpies; little brown youngsters
were rolling over and over around Glennie’s feet; a British engineer
was talking with a Jew pearl buyer from Margarita Island--the Spanish
coming queerly from their alien lips; a German coffee planter was
exchanging small talk with the wife of a Dutch officer who lived in
Curaçoa; and there was the usual ragtag and bobtail of English and
Brazilians, all of whom gave the youth in the naval uniform more or
less curious notice.
But the youth, his suit case on a table at his elbow, seemed absorbed
in his own thoughts. Judging merely by appearance, Ensign Glennie’s
thoughts were far from pleasant. His fingers drummed sharply on the
table top, and there was a frown of discontent on his face as his eyes
fixed themselves gloomily on the Trinidad hills that lay back of the
town of Port of Spain. In all conscience, the ensign had enough to
trouble him.
Several days previous, he had been detached from the United States
cruiser _Seminole_ at La Guayra on special duty. Incidentally, the
commander of the _Seminole_ had intrusted him with a packet of
important papers to be delivered to Mr. Brigham, the United States
consular representative at Para, in the mouth of the Amazon River. In
the course of his duty, Ensign Glennie was to call at Para; also the
course of his duty demanded that he proceed to Georgetown, British
Guiana, and there await the arrival of a certain boat in which he was
to take passage around “the Horn.”
Ensign Glennie, let it be known, was descended from a line of
Massachusetts notables who first came over in the _Mayflower_. His
father was a Boston nabob, and there was a good deal more pride and
haughtiness about Glennie than was good for him. No sooner had he been
cut loose from the _Seminole_ on detached duty, than he proceeded to
hire the services of a body servant--a sphinxlike little Jap by the
name of Tolo.
How Tolo came to be in La Guayra at the very time the ensign landed
there, and why he should insinuate himself into the particular notice
of Glennie and ask for a job, were mysteries not destined to be solved
for some time. The prime thing to be taken account of here is that Tolo
did present himself, and was hired.
For two days he brushed the ensign’s clothes, polished his boots,
and performed other services such as fall to the lot of a valet who
knows his business. Then, after two days of faithful service, Tolo
disappeared; and, about the same time, the packet of important papers
likewise vanished.
Glennie led the authorities in a wild hunt through La Guayra, and after
that through Caracas, but Tolo was not to be found. What on earth the
little Jap wanted with the papers, Glennie could not even guess, but
that he had them seemed a certainty.
Returning to La Guayra, Glennie found that the authorities there had
discovered that Tolo had taken passage, on the very morning he had
turned up missing, on a tramp steamer bound for Trinidad and Port of
Spain; and the authorities further stated that Tolo had formerly been
employed as a waiter in the hotel Ciudad Bolivar, which fronted the
esplanade of the capital city of the island.
Ensign Glennie changed his plans forthwith. Instead of proceeding
direct to Georgetown he would gain that port by way of Trinidad,
stopping long enough in Port of Spain to hunt up the enterprising Tolo
and secure the papers.
So this was why Glennie happened to be on the _Borneo_; and it was also
the reason he was not so comfortable in his mind as he might otherwise
have been.
As a commissioned officer in the United States navy he had been
intrusted with important dispatches. If he did not recover the
dispatches, and then proceed with the rest of the duty marked out for
him, a black mark would be set against his name that would interfere
with his promotion.
Glennie was worried as he had never been before in his life. His one
desire was to serve Uncle Sam with a clean and gallant record. His
father, the Boston nabob, expected great things of him, and Glennie,
being puffed up--as already stated--with rather high ideas regarding
his family, expected them of himself. Therefore the loss of that packet
of official papers caught him like a slap in the face. It made him
squirm, and he was squirming as he sat by that table on the grating,
felt the _Borneo_ reach the end of her scope of cable and come to a
stop with her mud hook hard and fast.
The water was too shoal for a large boat to get very far inshore, and
Glennie was among the first to tumble into the launch that soon hove
alongside. When he had scrambled off the launch at the landing, he
hailed a queer-looking cab and ordered the dusky driver to carry him,
as rapidly as possible, to the Ciudad Bolivar.
The ensign did not pay much attention to the scenery as he was jostled
along--his mind was too full of other things for that--and presently
he went into the wood and stone building that faced the plaza and
proceeded to make frantic inquiries regarding a waiter by the name of
Tolo.
To all of these eager questions the Venezuelan proprietor of the hotel
gave a negative shake of the head.
“There must be some mistake--the Señor Americano has surely been
wrongly informed. There has never been such a person as the Japanese
employed in the hotel. The waiters were all Venezuelans, and no Japs
were ever employed. Perhaps this Tolo had worked in the old hotel that
had been burned during the great fire?”
Glennie’s trail, faint enough at best, had run into thin air. He was at
the end of it, and it had led him nowhere. Going off into one corner of
the wine-room, the ensign dropped down at a table in an obscure corner,
rested his chin in his hands, and wondered dejectedly what he should do
next.
He was not very well acquainted with Orientals, or the brand of
guile they used. He had heard of Japs insinuating themselves into
fortifications flying the United States flag and making drawings and
jotting down memoranda of the guns, stores, and number of men. He had
laughed contemptuously at such yarns, although heartily agreeing with
the expediency that had suggested such a move on the part of the men
from Nippon. Like all others in the sea and land service of the great
republic, Ensign Glennie knew that it was not so much the forts, or the
guns, or the ammunition, as it is the unconquerable spirit of the men
behind the guns that count.
But where was the tactical advantage to be gained by a Jap in stealing
an envelope addressed to a consular agent tucked away in a Brazilian
town at the mouth of the Amazon? The only advantage which Glennie could
think of was that of pecuniary gain. Tolo had stolen the packet in
order to demand money for its return. Glennie had plenty of money, and
he began to think he had fallen into a grievous error by running away
from La Guayra without giving Tolo a chance to communicate with him.
And yet there was the information developed by the La Guayra police, to
the effect that Tolo had sailed for Port of Spain. However, this might
be as unreliable as that other supposed discovery, namely, that Tolo
had worked at the Ciudad Bolivar.
Nevertheless, no matter what theories Glennie might have, now that he
was in Port of Spain, and could not get out of the town again until
the next steamer sailed, it would be well to look around and thus make
assurance doubly sure that Tolo was not on the island.
Although Ensign Glennie was not at all sanguine, he immediately left
the hotel and conferred with the city officials. A description of Tolo
was given, handbills offering a reward for his apprehension were struck
off and posted in conspicuous places, and the island telegraph lines
and the cables to the mainland were brought into requisition.
Glennie had to work fast and thoroughly. Before many days he must be in
Georgetown, ready to go aboard the ship that was to carry him south,
and if he did not recover the important packet before he was picked up,
then there would be a reprimand, and perhaps a trial for dereliction of
duty. He winced at the thought and redoubled his efforts.
But he was “going it blind.” The wily Tolo might be a thousand miles
away and rapidly increasing the distance between him and his erstwhile
employer. Yet, be that as it might, Ensign Glennie could not give over
his hopeless labors.
He fought against fate with all the Glennie firmness and resolution.
Fate had no business trying to back-cap one of the Glennies, anyhow.
Family pride swelled up in him as the skies of hope continued to
darken. All he did was to cable his governor for a few thousand dollars
and then begin scattering it wherever he thought it might do some good.
Three days Ensign Glennie was in Port of Spain; then one morning as
he came down into the office of the hotel he heard an excited group
talking about a mysterious under-water boat that had just bobbed up in
the harbor.
Glennie pricked up his ears. “What’s the name of the boat?” he asked.
“The _Grampus_,” was the answer.
That was enough for the ensign. He settled his bill, grabbed up his
suit case, and rushed for the landing.
He had hardly got clear of the hotel before a Chinaman, with a copy
of one of the handbills, presented himself and asked for John Henry
Glennie. The Chinaman was told where the ensign had gone, and he
likewise made a bee line for the waterfront.
Here, at last, was a possible clew--and it was sailing after Glennie
with kimono fluttering and pigtail flying.