Just about the time the _Narcissus_ was kicking ahead at nine knots, in
distant San Francisco the cable company was getting Mr. Skinner out
of bed to dictate to him over the telephone a message which had just
arrived from Pernambuco.
“Ah!” murmured the incomparable Skinner as he donned a dressing gown and
slippers and descended to his library to decode the cablegram. “The
luck of the Blue Star flag still holds. That belligerent and highly
intelligent fellow Murphy has received our cablegram, sent him in care
of the American consul, and in accordance with my instructions he is
acknowledging its receipt. Hum-m-m! The first word is 'oriana.' Let
me turn to 'oriana.' Hum-m! 'I have an order presumably emanating from
blank.' Ah, yes, the next word is 'Buestar,' the cable address of the
Blue Star Navigation Company. Well, well, well, the foxy fellow! After
wiring us to cable him, he gets our cable and then cables us to confirm
it! Caution is a virtue, but this brand is too high-priced. The next
word is 'osculo'.”
Mr. Skinner turned to “osculo” and discovered that it meant “I am
ordered to--” The next word in the cablegram was “Montevideo.”
“Good heavens!” Mr. Skinner gasped. “He has received orders, presumably
emanating from us, ordering him to Montevideo! Can it be possible that
Mr. Ricks or Matt Peasley has sent him a cablegram without my knowledge?
I must read further.”
He did, and having done so he discovered that, in addition to being
ordered to Montevideo, Mike Murphy wanted to know if it was all right
and if von Staden and Ulrich--presumably German--were to be trusted;
that he would remain in command at the company's request, although
he considered such request unreasonable, even if it could be granted
without risk. Also, he wanted these instructions confirmed and was
anxiously awaiting an answer.
“Well, I'm certain of one thing,” Mr. Skinner soliloquized after
reading this extraordinary message: “Murphy has not been to the American
consul's office for the cablegram I sent him several days ago. Evidently
there is mischief afoot. However, there is nothing to be gained by
cabling him again in care of the American consul, so I'll just assume
that he has registered his cable address with the cable company; hence,
if I cable him to his cable address the message will be delivered to him
aboard the _Narcissus_. And since he says he is anxiously awaiting an
answer, I'll relieve his anxiety with all possible speed and send him an
answer immediately.”
Whereupon Mr. Skinner wasted several dollars cabling Mike Murphy that
the Blue Star Navigation had not, to his knowledge, cabled him any
instructions save those sent in care of the American consul; that von
Staden and Ulrich were unknown to him, and to be very careful not to
lose the ship. This message Mr. Skinner dictated over the telephone to
the telegraph office and asked them to rush it. Evidently they did so,
for just as Cappy Ricks arrived in the office the following morning,
word was received from the telegraph company that owing to the departure
of the _Narcissus_ from Pernambuco the night before, the Blue Star
Navigation Company's cablegram had not been delivered.
“Well, Skinner,” Cappy chirped as he sat in at his desk and lighted a
cigar, “what's the news around the shop this fine morning? Any word from
Murphy?”
“Yes--and no,” Mr. Skinner replied, and laid his information before
Cappy for perusal. Cappy read it all twice, then slid out to the edge of
his chair, placed his hands on his knees and looked at Mr. Skinner over
the rims of his spectacles.
“Skinner, my dear boy,” he said solemnly, “this is certainly hell! Cable
the American consul in Pernambuco and ask him if Murphy received the
cablegram we sent in care of the consulate. And, in the meantime, don't
whisper a word of this disquieting information to Matt Peasley. Time
enough to cross a bridge, Skinner, when you come to it.”
Mr. Skinner promptly filed a cablegram to the American consul, and just
before the office closed they got about forty dollars' worth of reply,
informing them that Captain Murphy had appeared at the consulate greatly
excited the night previous; that he had declared the cablegram awaiting
him might mean life or death--certainly a large sum of money; that he
had been given the cablegram and had gone aboard ship to look up his
cipher key. He had not returned and the ship was not in the harbor.
“Let me see the carbon copy of the cablegram you sent Murphy in care of
the American consul,” Cappy demanded. Mr. Skinner with a sinking heart
obeyed.
“Skinner,” said Cappy, “do I understand you sent this message in cipher,
which necessitated on the part of our captain a trip back to his ship
before he could decipher it? Why didn't you send him the message in
regular code? He would then have decoded it right in the consulate, or
at best he could have gone to the cable office and borrowed a code book
from them.”
“I sent it in our secret cipher,” Mr. Skinner faltered. “It was delicate
business--quite--er--an international complication, as it were, and in
the event of unpleasant developments--Well, how did I know but that some
German might be on the key at the cable office when the message arrived
there for Murphy--”
“Quite right, Skinner, my boy, quite right,” Cappy interrupted
sadly. “The only trouble with you, Skinner, is that you're too danged
efficient. You look so far into the future you're always gumming up the
present.” He sighed.
“Why, what do you think--” Skinner began, but Cappy silenced him with an
autocratic finger.
“I do not think, Skinner, I know. Had it not been for your damnable
cipher message, Murphy would have got your warning ashore instead of
being forced to go back to the ship for it. Having got it ashore he
would have taken care to warn the Brazilian authorities and they would
have been on watch and prevented the ship from leaving. As I view the
situation, Mike went aboard, deciphered your message and got ripping
mad. Von Staden and Ulrich were probably aboard, and hot-headed Mike
probably undertook to throw them overboard single-handed--and failed.
His body is doubtless feeding the fishes in Pernambuco harbor this
minute, and our lovely--big--_Narcissus_--the pride of--the Blue Star
fleet--”
“Shall I tell Captain Peasley?” Mr. Skinner faltered.
“Yes, tell him. He's bound to find out sooner or later. Skinner, I could
stand the loss of the ship, but what breaks me all up is the thought
that after forty years of honorable business my friends and my enemies
might suspect me of being a filibuster. I, Alden P. Ricks, whose
great-grandfather died at Yorktown, whose grandfather was killed at
Lundy's Lane, whose father won a medal of honor at Chapultepec--I,
Alden P. Ricks, who had to belong to the Home Guard because I was such
a little runt they wouldn't take me in the Civil War--to think that I
should attain to seventy years and even be suspected of staining the
flag of my country for the sake of a few dirty dollars--after all the
Ricks blood that has been shed for that flag! Horrible!”
Mr. Skinner turned away for, man and boy, he had spent twenty-five years
under Cappy Ricks, and he loved him. He could not bear to see the old
man suffer.