THE CODE
There was a moment’s silence as Little Billy finished reading. There
was in the hunchback’s face, and in the faces of the girl and the old
captain, a somber understanding of John Winters’s fate.
The whaleman’s pitiful experience was a commonplace of the sea, and it
required no effort of mind on their part to vision the tragedy of an
open boat on an empty sea. But Martin was more sharply impressed. The
sea held as yet no commonplaces for him, and the poignant question that
ended the castaway’s chronicle kindled a flame of pity. Martin had the
picture mind, and a habit of dramatizing events.
As Little Billy read, Martin had unconsciously followed the narrative
with his mind’s eye, building a series of vivid, connected pictures. He
had witnessed the battle with the whales, the finding of the treasure,
had peered baffled into the blanket of Bering fog, had seen the leaping
breakers at the base of the smoking mountain, had excursioned through
the caves by Winters’s side, and, at last, had beheld clearly the
little open boat, with its despairing occupant, disappear into the gray
mist.
“The poor devil!” cried Martin.
His words broke the spell of silence that was upon the table.
“Yes—the poor devil!” echoed Little Billy. “My very words, as I
finished reading, there in Kim Chee’s place. ‘The poor devil!’ A
fitting epitaph.”
“But why an epitaph?” asked Martin quickly. Visions of an eleventh-hour
rescue were surging through his mind. He felt one was necessary to
round out his reel of pictures. “Could he not have been rescued after
making that last entry? Why, he must have been rescued! How else could
the journal have reached Honolulu?”
“He was picked up,” interposed Ruth.
“By another whaler,” added Little Billy. “Sick to death, and completely
lunatic. He never recovered his reason. He died in Kim Chee’s place.
But I will continue my yarn, and you will see.
“You can imagine, of course, the progressive transformation I
underwent, while curled up on that old sea-chest, perusing the log. I
began merely with the intention of forcing my mind away from myself,
and thereby quieting my booze-jangled nerves; in a moment, I was
interested; then I was excited by the whalemen’s discovery of the
ambergris, and lastly I was overwhelmed by the fact that John Winters’s
Fire Mountain was identical with the _Cohasset’s_ Fire Mountain. The
description clinched that fact. And to make more certain, I recalled
the wreckage the captain and I had come across, and the board with the
nearly effaced lettering upon it. The letters upon that board were,
‘LUC,’ and beneath, the word ‘BEDFORD.’ Of course, it was the remnant
of ‘_Good Luck_, of New Bedford.’
“It was about four o’clock in the morning when I finished the book.
I summoned the Chinaman, straightway. Kim was asleep, and he came
grumbling, in answer to my call. He thought I wanted drink, but John
Winters had effectually doused the flame in my vitals. I had happened
upon the probable clew to a vast treasure, and the thought of it
obsessed me.
“I put the question to Kim as to how the journal came to be in the
Chamber of Horrors. It was a poser for Kim. His old yellow face
wrinkled into a thousand dark creases, in the lantern’s dim light, and
his shrewd, beady eyes wandered uncertainly between the book and my
face. But at last he remembered, and in his forcible and inimitable
manner he enlightened me.
“’Why flor you sing out? Me catchie one piecie dleam. You no catchie
’lisky? Why flor you want? Me savvy blook. Long time—one time come
glease ship. Up no’lth, sailorman he catchie one fellow walk about one
piecie boat alone. Velly sick. Catch ’im bats in ’liskers. Bring um Kim
Chee. Sailorman go ’way— —— ’tief! No pay. Qleer fellow velly sick. No
eat, no dlink, velly ’ot—all time tlalk, tlalk, about plecie glease.
—— fool clazy! Bimeby die. Flind piecie blook under clothes. Kim Chee
no savvy. Why flor you want blook? ‘Ow much you got? Dolla flive—-all
light, you take. Me go bed.’
“From which discourse, I gathered that Kim Chee had been rudely
interrupted in the midst of a sweet dream; that he could not fathom my
sudden distaste for whisky; that a long time ago a whaleship had come
into port with a sick man aboard, whom they had picked up in an open
boat, up north; that they had brought the sick man to Kim, and departed
without paying over any money; that Kim Chee had cared for the sick
man, until the latter died; that the sick man had been out of his head,
had talked constantly of ‘grease,’ had been crazy; that Kim had removed
the diary from the man’s body, after death; that he would let me have
it gladly for a dollar and five cents; that he was going back to bed
and didn’t want to be disturbed again by the unaccountable vagaries of
a dipsomaniacal white man.
“I didn’t bother Kim again. Indeed, I clasped my cheaply purchased
treasure close, hied myself with speed to the docks, and had myself
pulled off to the brig. My spree was ended, and I felt that I held in
my hand the best piece of fortune that had befallen the happy family in
many a day.
“I reasoned, you see, that the treasure of ambergris was still in its
hiding-place on Fire Mountain—and subsequent events have not shaken
that belief. I reasoned that Winters had been picked up some time after
he had made his last entry in the log, that he was out of his head when
rescued, and that he never regained sanity.
“His rescuers apparently did not bother to search him, or else, with
the cunning of the crazed, Winters concealed from them his journal.
If they had happened upon it, they would surely have appropriated it.
Their dumping him off on Kim Chee was not so heartless as it sounds—the
sick man was undoubtedly better off ashore in Hawaii than aboard a
cruising whaler, and Kim Chee is famed for his charity from one end of
the Pacific to the other.
“At breakfast that morning, I acquainted Ruth with the discovery, and
read to her the passages I read to you. It was an exciting breakfast.
“We were waited upon by Ichi, the little Jap we shipped as cook in
Hakodate. Polite, stupid, unfamiliar with the English language, we did
not think it necessary to guard our speech against him. Indeed, we
never gave him a thought, and we discussed my find pro and con very
freely. We dwelt upon the value of the treasure, verified the _Good
Luck’s_ reported loss by research, congratulated ourselves upon our
knowledge of the position of Fire Mountain—all in the hearing of the
self-effacing Ichi. We were only daunted by the prospect of searching
blindly through that cave-riddled mountain. Then, Ruth found the code.”
“Yes, it was pure luck,” interposed Ruth. “I was examining the book,
and I noticed a crack in the length of the cover. I looked more closely
and discovered that the cover had been slit lengthwise, and that a
piece of skin had been inserted.”
“That is it—Exhibit A,” said Little Billy. He pointed to the white
strip on the table. “We recognized it instantly as the piece of parka
lining Winters mentions using to write upon the secret of the cave. It
is a piece of the skin of an unborn reindeer. The Kamchatka tribes line
their fur garments with that skin, and Winters had evidently obtained
his parka from them. The writing, you see, is all numerals.”
Martin picked up and inspected the skin curiously. Unborn reindeer
skin! He rubbed the glossy substance between his fingers. It felt
uncanny to his touch, this relic of a long-past tragedy, this message
from the world’s end. And the message seemed to be no more than a faded
jumble of figures. He read them carefully, searching in vain for some
hint of meaning.
43344544236153314612151113236243361531153523113344
62315111464643441142123411421465224331454613115115
62635344244611313421446333442442361334423315426144
254613115115
“But how do you know this is a code?” Martin asked curiously.
“Three excellent reasons,” said Little Billy. “First, John Winters
mentions writing down the secret of the treasure’s location, and we
discover this skin; second, your genial former employer deciphered
these figures for the affable Ichi; third, Ruth and I proved the
correctness of the deciphering this morning.
“I guess I had better acquaint you with the method of this means of
communication. I don’t know how a simple seaman, like John Winters
seems to have been, could have become familiar with the art of
cryptography—probably from reading, possibly devised the thing himself.
It is very simple once you have the key—quite useful, too. Ruth and
I talked to each other through a wall by this code, back there in
Bob Carew’s lair. Consultation with Poe’s _Gold Bug_, and an hour’s
application that morning after breakfast, gave me the key, though
I had no chance that day to discover more. It is what is called a
‘checker-board’ code. Here, I will draw it out!”
The hunchback turned to a blank space in the diary and rapidly sketched
a diagram. He handed it across, for Martin’s interested inspection, and
Martin beheld the following:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5
1 a | b | c | c | e
---|---|---|---|---
2 f | g | h | i | j
---|---|---|---|---
3 l | m | n | o | p
---|---|---|---|---
4 q | r | s | t | u
---|---|---|---|---
5 v | w | x | y | z
Number 6 for spacing
between words
“You will observe that the letter ‘k’ is missing,” said Little Billy.
“You use ‘c’ for ‘k,’ and to write a message, you merely write down
the line the letter is on, and its position on that line. Thus, in
Winters’s message, the first two numerals are ‘43.’ That means, fourth
line, third letter, or the letter ‘s.’ You see, you take the numbers in
pairs—that is, until you reach a number 6.
“There are no numbers in the code above 5, so Winters used a 6 to
indicate the spaces between words. To illustrate: Winters’s secret
begins with the numbers 43344544236. Pair these numbers off, and we
have 43-34-45-44-23-6. Decipher with the diagram, and we have, 4th line
3rd letter, or ‘s,’ 3rd line 4th letter, or ‘o,’ 4th line 5th letter,
or ‘u,’ 4th line 4th letter, or ‘t,’ 2nd line 3rd letter, or ‘h.’ That
makes s-o-u-t-h, or the word ‘south.’
“But there is no need of my continuing the translation. Friend Smatt
has kindly attended to that for us. Here it is.”
Martin took the proffered piece of paper, the piece of paper covered
with Smatt’s handwriting, that had come out of the envelope. He read in
Lawyer Smatt’s bold, angular hand,
South end beach—in elephant head—4 starboard—windy cave—2
port—aloft—north corner dry cave.
“That marks the location of our prospective, odorous loot,” continued
the hunchback. “No doubt about it. The captain and I remember very well
the cave opening in the rock shaped like an elephant’s head, on the
south end of Fire Mountain’s beach. It is up to us to get there first.”
“But how did Smatt—” commenced Martin.
“How did Smatt come to be in possession of the skin? I am coming to
that. The Jap, Ichi, brought it to him.
“That morning, after Ruth and I had discussed the diary, Ruth set out
for shore to visit the captain in the hospital. She took Winters’s book
along with her to read to the captain—good thing she did, as it turned
out. I stayed aboard and tackled the code. As I said, I discovered the
key after an hour’s or so application. That is, I had fathomed the
checkerboard, had drawn a diagram, and had begun to decipher. Then my
much-abused body went on strike.
“You remember, I was just at the end of an extended spree. For a week
I had swum in stimulants and gone without rest. I was near a breakdown
when Kim Chee took me in hand. The discovery of the log braced me up.
But all of a sudden, while I was working here in the cabin, over that
scrap of reindeer skin, I collapsed.
“I called for Ichi and ordered black coffee. I remember he answered my
call by materializing almost instantly at my side. He must have been
lingering behind my chair—though I do not recollect seeing him about
the cabin after Ruth left for shore. He brought me a large cup of black
coffee. I drank it, and went promptly to sleep. It may have been a
drug, or it may have been nature having her way with me.”
“It was drugged coffee the Jap gave you,” stated Captain Dabney with
finality. “I know those yellow imps!”
Martin started at the blind man’s sudden interjection into the
conversation. Since he had concluded his story, Captain Dabney had
sat listening, immobile and silent. At times Martin had suspected him
of dozing. But now, his emphatic outburst proved that he had followed
Little Billy’s words closely.
“That Ichi lad was no dunderhead,” continued the captain. “He was
playing a part aboard here. He was commissioned by that Hakodate crowd
to discover our trading points—if this ambergrease affair hadn’t turned
up and tempted him, he would have stayed with us and made the trip
north this Summer. Then next year a couple of Jap schooners would have
gone ahead of us, peddling booze to the tribes, and killing the goose
that laid the golden egg. Blast their yellow hides! I never traded with
a trustworthy Jap in my life.”
“Yes, he was doubtless a spy of the syndicate,” assented Little Billy.
“Certainly he was playing a part aboard here, for when I ran across
him yesterday morning, in Frisco, he was anything but the cookie of a
wind-jammer, and his English showed a remarkable improvement.
“In any event, whether Ichi drugged my coffee or not, I was dead to the
world as soon as I swallowed it. When the boatswain came aboard—he had
been ashore for a couple of days, searching for me—in the middle of
the afternoon, he found me asleep in my chair. He thought I was drunk,
and he picked me up and carried me to my bunk. When Ruth came aboard
later, bringing the captain with her, it was discovered that Ichi
had vanished, and Ruth had to prepare the cabin supper that night. I
slept till morning. When I awoke, I discovered that Winters’s code had
vanished with the cook.”
“We also discovered that Ichi had tried unsuccessfully to open the safe
in the captain’s room,” said Ruth. “He was undoubtedly after the old
log book that contained the entry about the discovery of Fire Mountain,
including the latitude and longitude.”
“Well, he was successful enough in making off with the code,” said
Little Billy. “We combed Honolulu for him that day, without result. Two
ships had left the afternoon before—one bound for the Orient, the other
for California. Our missing cookie appeared upon the passenger list of
neither vessel, but we concluded that he had taken steerage passage for
Yokohama.
“The loss of the code was a serious matter. Of course, we knew the
location of the island, and we were determined to square away for Fire
Mountain as soon as the season permitted, but we were rather dismayed
by the prospect of having to search blindly through that labyrinth of
caves for the _Good Luck’s_ treasure. That Winters and Silva had stowed
the stuff in some well-concealed place was evident from the entry in
the log, and from the use of a code. We were dubious of success in our
quest until last night.
“Jump from Hawaii to San Francisco. We came up to Frisco, you know, to
consult some specialists about the captain’s eyesight. Yesterday, the
captain came aboard from the hospital. We were lying off Angel Island,
ready for sea, and awaiting the captain’s word to up anchor and away
for the Bering—it will be the open season up there by the time we have
completed the passage.
“Yesterday was a holiday with us. It was the occasion of our revered
and beloved chief mate’s twenty-first natal day, and in the morning,
the boatswain and I set forth for shore in search of suitable
offerings.”
“I know—you were setting forth to buy flowers,” broke in Martin. “Bosun
told me—you got——”
“We got lost from each other; intentionally lost on my part, as I
confessed to you. Well, friend Ichi was the innocent cause of that
harrowing separation.
“It happened in one of the many thirst parlors that line Market Street.
The bosun and I had stepped in to wet our whistles, and, looking out of
the open door, I was astounded to perceive our truant cookie pass by.
The bosun was occupied at the moment with a nickel poker machine. I did
not disturb him—he is a hasty, straightforward person and unfitted for
a subtle pursuit. I slipped through the door and fell into the wake of
the Jap. But what a metamorphosed sea-cook I trailed! Resplendent in
fine feathers, Ichi looked more like a diplomat or banker than anything
else.
“I trailed him through the streets for an hour. Once he stopped
before a news-stand and purchased a paper, and I was close enough to
overhear him speak perfect English to the clerk. He finally led me into
an office building, up an elevator, and to the office of one Josia
Smatt, Attorney at Law. Ichi entered this office. I, following by the
elevator’s next trip, saw him disappear through the door. I applied my
eagle eye to the aperture intended for keys and spying, and saw you, my
dear Blake, direct the Oriental blossom into an inner office.
“Along the hall meandered one of the loquacious brotherhood, book under
arm, conquest in his eye. Inspiration struck me a thump. I fell in
the way of the book agent and became a ready victim of his wiles. For
a consideration, I became owner of the volume. As soon as he had my
money, the agent made for the stairs, evidently fearing I would repent
my bargain. When he had disappeared, I adopted his role and burst in
upon the hapless clerk of Lawyer Smatt with the matchless ‘Compendium
of Universal Knowledge.’
“You know what transpired then, for you were that very hapless clerk.
You were very pleasant to the poor book agent, Blake, but you refused
to be seduced by the alluring description I gave my wares.”
“By George! You talked like a sure-enough book pest,” asserted Martin.
“But I noticed something phony about you—your tanned face, and the
tattoo marks on your arms. I remember, I wondered how a book agent came
by such ornaments.”
“Yes, and I noticed you wondered why my eyes were roving around your
office,” added Little Billy. “I was looking for Ichi. I placed him in
that inner office, heard his voice, and the voice of your employer. I
was wondering what to do to get past you and attempt to spy upon them,
and then Smatt helped me out by summoning you. Do you recollect, when
you dismissed me and entered the inner office, you saw me leaving the
outer office? Yes, you did—not. You had no sooner closed the inner
office-door behind you than I was at the keyhole.
“I tried first to overhear. Nothing doing. Couldn’t distinguish but
an occasional word. Then, I placed my eye to the keyhole. I saw you
standing before the desk, Ichi staring at you, and Smatt addressing
you. I saw Smatt hand over the envelope. I was morally certain it
contained the code, from the care Smatt exercised and the interest
Ichi showed. Then you started for the door, and I had to beat a hasty
retreat. I guess I reached the hallway about the same instant you
opened the door from the inner office.”
“I felt your presence!” cried Martin, recalling of a sudden his feeling
of that moment the previous afternoon. “I remember I looked out——”
“—Into the hall,” finished Little Billy. “Yes—I was concealed around
the corner of the cross corridor. I saw you. I left the building at a
double quick and made for the water-front. I went aboard and told Ruth
and the captain what I had discovered. Then Ruth and I went ashore.
“I was sure you had the code in your possession, and I had overheard
enough to know that you were to deliver the envelope to somebody, some
place, last night. So, you were the unconscious burden of our thoughts,
the prospective victim of our wiles.
“I had obtained your name from the janitor of the office building,
by pretending I was searching for a friend who worked in one of the
offices. Consultation of the city directory gave us your home address,
and we headed in that direction. First, though, we picked up the bosun,
hard by where I had deserted him. His condition was rather bibulous,
but owing to his hollow legs and ivory dome, he was clear-headed and
able to fall in with our plans. A shrewd-enough person is the bosun, an
actor of no mean ability. His strategy served us well in the evening.
“Well, having the bosun, we set forth to gather information concerning
your own estimable self. We went to your boarding-house. I donned the
role of census-taker for the new city directory, and interviewed the
chatty Mrs. Meagher. From her I learned the names and occupations of
all the boarders in the house; specifically, I was informed of your
orphaned and comparatively friendless condition, your age, your lodge,
your studious habits, and your very, very respectable residence. From
another source we later learned of your adorable curly brown hair,
your calm, gray eyes, your strange aversion for the dangerous sex,
even though they be ‘puffick loidies.’ A fellow lodger of yours gave
us most of our information—or, let us say, a companion lodger. A lady,
a ‘puffick loidy,’ a gimlet-eyed and talkative maiden, with a glorious
crown of golden hair—though, alas, I fear ’tis a drug-store gold.”
“Good Lord—Miss Pincher!” exclaimed Martin.
He felt his ears burning, and knew he was blushing. Confound that
manicure girl! “Adorable hair—calm eyes” indeed! He shot a glance at
Ruth. She was laughing at his discomfiture.
“We discovered she lodged in your house and we trailed her to the
beauty parlor where she labors. Ruth pumped her.”
“Oh, you are a fine favorite of hers,” rallied Ruth. “She swears by
you, Mr. Blake. I happened to casually mention your name, and she was
charmed by the coincidence of your being a mutual friend. She gave you
a very fine character indeed, though, she hated to admit, you were not
as gallant as you might be. ‘Regular goop with goils,’ I believe she
said.”
“Silly little mush-head,” mumbled Martin, greatly confused. “Suppose
she told you everything she knew about me.”
“Yes, and then some,” remarked Little Billy. “Oh, Ruth has your entire
history, Martin Blake. But I would not blush about it. Indeed, if my
record were as good as yours, I would straighten my back. Ruth came
out of that beauty-parlor with a record that goes something like this:
very good-looking, muscular, studious, poor but honest, does not drink
or smoke to excess, though has been known to swear violently and
indulge in combat on occasion of coalman flogging horse up a hill, is
impervious to wiles of beskirted siren, be her hair ever so yellow, and
her eyes ever so blue.
“Frankly, we were disappointed by your uncompromising rectitude, friend
Martin. We were, you see, greatly desirous of obtaining that envelope
you had in your pocket. We had hoped to discover some weakness, some
vice, in your composition—a fondness for drink, or for women, or for
cards—something we might use as a leverage to pry loose from you that
envelope. We failed in our quest, and we had to abandon our safe scheme
of cunning in favor of more direct and violent methods.
“We hired an automobile for the day—I’ll wager that garage man was
peevish when he discovered his machine abandoned in an alleyway,
today—and Ruth and the bosun departed for that neighborhood that lodged
you. I waited around the office, and when you left I trailed you home.
“I met Ruth and bosun, and we hit upon a plan. I went to a clothing
store and purchased a suit of men’s clothes, and overcoat, and a cap.
Ruth donned them in the privacy of the car. Then, she and I took up our
position in the dark doorway of the vacant house next door to you.”
“Why, I recall! I saw a chap in a gray overcoat!” cried Martin.
“On the steps as you came out of the house,” supplemented Little Billy.
“Yes, that was Ruth. You came out before we expected you, and we were
not prepared. You see, we had decided to hold you up. I was to shove
a revolver in your face, and Ruth was to relieve you of the envelope.
Your popping out so unexpectedly upset us.
“Ruth sneezed, and attracted your attention, and then she lost her wits
and beat it down the street. If you had looked more keenly into that
doorway next door, you would have seen yours-truly lurking nervously
there. But you went straightway down the street yourself, and, in
truth, I was not sorry that accident spoiled our coup. Neither Ruth,
nor I, liked very well the idea of sticking up that active-appearing
and uncertain quantity termed ‘Martin Blake,’ not to mention our
scruples anent law-breaking violence.
“Well, the hold-up was off. Ruth beat you to the corner, and informed
the waiting bosun of the failure. The bosun was properly valorous. He
would attend to the ‘blasted law shark.’ So, while Ruth sought refuge
in the automobile, the bosun lay in wait for you by the corner. He was
to grasp you in those enormous hands of his, subdue you properly, and
extract the treasure from your pocket—Ruth had told him which pocket.
“But, friend Martin, your penchant for making friends on sight saved
you. The bosun’s scheme was to pick a quarrel with you, but when you
encountered him, your courtesy disarmed him. He confided this morning
that you were ‘such a proper little lad, I didn’t ’ave the ’eart to ’it
’im.’ So, to gain time, and to boost his courage, he carted you into
the saloon and bought you a drink. And a good thing he did; otherwise
we would have been in ignorance of Wild Bob Carew’s joining this game.
Ay, and Ruth might have disappeared and left us in ignorance of her
fate!”
A sudden, forcible, inelegant oath, ripped forth by the blind captain,
startled the group. It was not an epithet to use before a woman—though
Martin did not think of that at the moment, nor did Ruth appear
shocked. Martin was surprised by the wild rage that suddenly suffused
Captain Dabney’s serene countenance.
“I’ll make that renegade hound pay!” swore the captain, thumping the
table in emphasis. “I told him I’d kill him if he bothered Ruth again.
By Heaven, blind though I be, I’ll keep my word! I’ll see him, and
recognize him, when we meet—the lying cur!”
The outburst ceased as suddenly as it had commenced, and the captain’s
working features assumed instantly their accustomed immobile serenity.
Martin noticed that the hunchback’s face was sober, and that Ruth’s
face was white. He judged that the captain was not indulging in vain
boasting.
“Wild Bob Carew is the jinx of the happy family,” said Little Billy,
after a moment. “He is a human devil right enough. And the discovery
that he is interested in this affair was serious and important news
for us. I understand it took the wind out of the bosun’s sails for
a moment. You see, before your conversation with the bosun in that
little tavern we did not know where you were taking the envelope. You
mentioned ‘Carew’ and ‘Black Cruiser,’ and we were enlightened.
“But the bosun failed in his undertaking, after all. He slipped on the
floor, and your agility saved you. You hopped a street-car and escaped
the bosun’s clutches.
“You didn’t shake us off, though. We picked up the bosun, and followed
you in the machine, keeping your car in sight the entire way to the
Ferry Building. During the journey, the bosun communicated his news. At
the Ferry we shot ahead of you, ditched the machine in an alleyway, and
prepared the new plan I had evolved.
“I dodged into a pawn-shop and bought a legal-size envelope and some
sheets of paper. Then I doubled back ahead of you and awaited your
coming, perching myself on a handy fire-hydrant. The rest you know. My
eloquence charmed you, and while you so kindly encircled me with your
arm, to keep me from falling, I picked your pocket of the treasure and
substituted the trash I had prepared.
“Such was our campaign against the person of Martin Blake. You went on
and entered the dive. I dodged across to the wharf where the bosun and,
I thought, Ruth, were awaiting me in the brig’s dingey. I found the
bosun, but not Ruth. She had been too curious to remain in safety. She
had left the bosun in charge of the boat and taken up a position where
she could watch my operations.”
“Not altogether curiosity—I had a scheme of my own in case you failed,”
broke in Ruth.
“Well, your scheme got you into a pretty fix,” retorted Little Billy.
“I was nervous because of the proximity of Carew to Ruth,” he continued
to Martin, “and I straightway set out to look for her. I came abreast
the Black Cruiser just in time to see a certain young gentleman in a
gray overcoat being hustled through the saloon’s side entrance, by a
group of suspiciously chunky-appearing men. I heard no outcry, but I
knew that Ruth was in Carew’s toils.”
“I couldn’t cry out,” said Ruth. “One of those yellow runts had a
jiu-jitsu hold upon my neck. My speech was paralyzed for the instant.
Indeed, I could hardly walk. They practically carried me into Carew’s
presence.”
“I saw you, in the hall,” broke in Martin.
“I didn’t see you,” replied Ruth. “Indeed, I hardly recall passing
through a hall. I came to my senses when they brought me into a big,
lighted room, where Carew sat behind a table. I was—” the girl paused
uncertainly, and Martin saw her face was white and strained—“I was
frightened. There is no use my disguising the fact—that man terrifies
me. He is—he is——”
“He is a scoundrel!” exploded Captain Dabney.
“Yes, but a courageous and resourceful scoundrel,” commented Little
Billy. He turned to Martin and continued: “Bob Carew is not a new
acquaintance of ours. We have had trouble with him before. He is, er——”
“He is possessed of the idea that he loves me,” Ruth quietly continued
Little Billy’s stammering words. “And he is a man who acts upon his
ideas. He has made my life miserable for four years. Oh, I am afraid of
that man! He is so determined and ruthless. And I would rather be dead
than mated with that heartless wretch!”
“Aye, and I would rather see you dead,” commented Captain Dabney.
“Carew’s life smells to heaven. He is more odorous than those yellow
men who own him.”
“If you knew the Pacific, you would know Carew,” explained Little Billy
to Martin. “He is the best and least favorably known blackleg between
the two poles. He is an Englishman—the cast-off son of some noble
house, I believe. And he is a cruel, treacherous, brave, and cunning
beast! No other words fit him. Add to that a really beautiful body, a
brazen gall, and a well-bred and suave carriage, and you have Wild Bob.
He has an apt nickname—‘Wild Bob.’
“The man has come through more wild, disreputable escapades than any
other three men afloat. He has robbed right and left all over the
Pacific. Half the island capitals are closed to him. He robbed the
captain, here, when the captain first knew and trusted him. Two years
ago, his schooner the _Aileen_ was confiscated by the United States
government for opium-running into California. Since that time he has
been employed on shares by the same syndicate of Japs who have bought
the captain’s furs. They gave him the _Yezo_, which he renamed the
_Dawn_, the fastest little schooner in the north and south Pacific, and
he has been poaching seal for them, up north.”
“Aye, and next year he would have ruined my trade, had not their spy
cleared out with your secret,” rumbled the captain.
“Yes, I have no doubt those gentlemen in Hakodate placed Ichi aboard
to spy out our trading secrets,” assented Little Billy. “And Ichi’s
learning of the million in ambergris awaiting an owner up there in
Bering Sea upset their little plan. Ichi fled to Frisco, instead
of to Japan, as we thought. He knew Carew and the schooner were in
Frisco, and I suppose he turned to Smatt for assistance in deciphering
the code, and also in preparing the _Dawn_ for sea. Carew could not
have attended to that personally. He has to keep under cover in
United States’ territory. I hazard the guess, Blake, that you are not
acquainted with all the activities of Mr. Smatt?”
“No,” admitted Martin. “Smatt is a very secretive man. All I know of
his affairs I learned from handling his court papers; but I know he
has many interests I am entirely ignorant of. For instance, I did not
know what brought Dr. Ichi to the office, though he and Smatt were very
chummy. I thought it was business connected with the Nippon Trading
Company. Smatt is American counsel for a Japanese firm of that name. I
never heard of the _Dawn_, nor of Carew, before yesterday.”
“I guess we are better posted concerning your former employer than you,
yourself,” informed Little Billy. “Smatt’s name is a byword with the
Pacific traders—the shrewd old spider! ‘Nippon Trading Company’ is the
same syndicate we have done business with; and those yellow financiers
of Hakodate and Tokyo have many irons in the fire besides the fur iron.
Opium and coolie smuggling into California—both very profitable. And
old Smatt looks after their American interests, fixes officials, keeps
them clear of the law. It was Smatt who rescued Carew two years ago.
“I have no doubt that immediately on receipt of Ichi’s intelligence,
Smatt set about outfitting Carew for a trip to Fire Mountain. But I
don’t know whether the attempted shanghaiing of Ruth was premeditated
or not. Of course, they knew of our presence in the port, and they may
have been waiting for a chance to pick up Ruth—aside from Carew’s mad
infatuation, they may have expected to force from Ruth the latitude and
longitude of Fire Mountain. I would not put a planned kidnaping beyond
them. But it doesn’t seem probable in the light of our undisturbed
efforts to filch the code from you.”
“No, I am sure my capture was not the result of forethought,” stated
Ruth. “I think they just noticed me standing steadfastly in the same
position, just across the street from their rendezvous, and naturally
they concluded I was a spy of some sort. Indeed, Carew’s exclamation,
when they brought me before him, is convincing proof that he did not
know whom his men had bagged. ‘My word, it is my spitfire, Ruth!’ he
cried. I acted the spitfire, too, and I am afraid I said some very
unladylike things to him. But he only laughed in high glee. I was
horribly frightened, though I took care he didn’t suspect it. I know he
meant to take me to sea with him.
“I only faced him for a few moments. There was an interruption from the
hall, a banging and a knocking——”
“I did that, kicking a door,” said Martin.
“I thought it was Little Billy, also captured,” went on Ruth. “I was
desperate. And Carew had me thrust into that other room, and the door
secured upon me. I heard a commotion and quarreling without, and
somebody was thrown into the room next to me. I thought it was Billy,
and I tried to communicate by raps. You know, Billy and I have become
quite expert in the use of that code; we practised on the passage up
from the islands. You could not answer me, so I knew it was not Little
Billy who had been imprisoned in the next room. I waited patiently and
fearfully, until Billy burst open the window.”
“Yes, we didn’t lose any time starting our rescue,” added Little Billy.
“When I saw them haul Ruth into the house, I rushed back to the boat
and told the bosun. We reconnoitered. We saw a taxi drive up in front
of the saloon, and Carew storm out, and drive off.”
“I guess he was bound to see Smatt about the blank sheets of paper in
the envelope,” said Martin. “I swore up and down that they had been
placed there by Smatt.”
“Yes, we guessed as much,” responded Little Billy. “Well, we encircled
the building, discovered that back shed, and decided to try and
force entrance from the rear. I hustled back to where we had left
our automobile, and got a small steel bar from the tool-box. When I
rejoined the bosun, we mounted to the roof of the shed and tackled the
windows.
“Luck was with us. You separate prisoners were in the rear of the
house. We had a narrow squeak of it, though. Wild Bob returned before
we had freed Ruth—that was that engine noise that startled us,
Martin—and Wild Bob lived up to his reputation by that vicious pursuit
he gave us.
“We won aboard safely, yanked up the hook and slipped out with the
tide, without waiting for pilot or clearance. And so—well, now you know
all. Remains nothing but for us to extend you a formal welcome to the
bosom of the happy family.”
Martin became suddenly aware that the recital was ended, and that
three unlike, friendly faces were beaming upon him with smiling
lips. Unconsciously, as he had followed the course of the tale with
absorbed interest, he had lost sight of the fact of his own intimate
connection with the narrated events. He had seemed to be a listener
to an interesting fiction. His old habit of identifying himself with
the characters in the tales he read had mastered him. Little Billy’s
recountal, and his own responses and interjections, all seemed part of
a melodrama which, played out, would vanish and leave him secure in his
accustomed law-abiding world.
Now he suddenly realized that the melodrama was real, that the first
act only was ended, and that the last was obscured in the future.
The day had been replete with shocks, but the greatest shock was this,
when Martin finally and completely realized that the even course of his
life had been rudely and permanently changed, that he had been plucked
out of his humdrum niche and cast willy-nilly into this violent drama
by sportive circumstance. The tumultuous incidents of the previous
night arrayed themselves in his mind with something of their true
perspective.
He touched his head, and felt the bandage about the forgotten wound.
He became more keenly conscious of his surroundings—the unfamiliar
furnishings of the cabin, the careened table, the motion of the ship
that had at first disturbed and now soothed him, the measured footfalls
of the boatswain, overhead, the sough of the wind aloft.
He looked with fresh eyes upon his companions. They too were actors
in the play—the forceful blind man, the lovable cripple, and this
blooming, merry-eyed girl whose every glance sent a strange thrill
through his being. They were his partners, his shipmates! He was
committed with them to this adventure, and he was glad. They, too,
seemed glad, for they were smiling a welcome.
“Of course, Martin, we feel rather diffident before you,” spoke up
Little Billy. “We know it is an outrage, this causing you to lose your
comfortable berth ashore, and——”
“Say no more about it,” interrupted Martin. “You had sufficient
provocation for all your actions. And really, believe me, I am very
glad I fell in with you. I am glad to be here. I have wanted to go to
sea all my life. We are going to Fire Mountain now, aren’t we?”
“That’s the spirit!” cried the captain heartily. “And you will not lose
by your joining us, lad. Even if this venture prove a failure, there is
still a mighty good living to be picked up on the Pacific.”
“We are a sort of coöperative association,” explained Ruth. “We work
on shares; something like the whaleman’s lay, though more generous.
Of course, we pay straight wages to the hands forward. But we of the
afterguard work this way: After all expenses of a voyage have been
paid, the captain as master and owner takes fifty per cent. of the
net profits. The remaining fifty per cent. is divided among the rest
of us, not according to rank but pro rata. We want you to join the
partnership. You are to share equally with Billy, the bosun, and
myself. And if we really find this stuff on Fire Mountain, your share
will come to a neat fortune. No, don’t start protesting—of course you
are entitled to it.”
“And don’t commence counting your chickens before they are hatched,”
admonished Little Billy. “It is quite on the cards that we will reach
Fire Mountain to discover Carew ahead of us. Or somebody else may have
happened upon the stuff during the twenty-five years since Winters
died. The last is not probable, but the first is, at least, possible.
It will not do for us to rest in false security. Carew and his backers
are sure to have a try for that million on Fire Mountain.”
“But he does not know the island’s position. I am sure of that!”
objected Ruth.
“But he does know Bering Sea, almost as well as I,” spoke up Captain
Dabney. “And he knows the particular corner of Bering we are bound for.
No—Billy is right. We must not imagine the _Dawn_ isn’t on our heels,
even now. In any event, he would be setting out for the Kuriles to pick
up the seal-herds, about this time; and, knowing Carew as we do, we
may prophesy that he will try to find our island. Indeed, the man may
have already run across Fire Mountain during his excursions in those
waters—he may know its position as well as we do. He’ll try to poach on
our preserve, no fear.
“That ambergris would represent the profits of a score of
seal-raids—and besides, there is you, Ruth, drawing him like a
lodestone. His attempt to shanghai you, back there in Frisco, shows the
temper of the man. If we meet the _Dawn_ up north, and I have a hunch
we shall meet her, we want to keep our eyes open. Meanwhile, we want to
make a smart passage, and get there first, and away. We want to carry
on—by the Lord, crack on to the limit!”
“If it has come to a race, Carew’s schooner has the heels of us,”
observed Little Billy.
“Yes, the _Dawn_ is the better sailer,” reluctantly admitted the
captain. “If the _Cohasset_ were ten years younger, I wouldn’t admit
it, but the old girl isn’t quite as limber as she used to be. But the
log line isn’t everything in an ocean race. I know Bob Carew is a good
seaman, but I’ll show him a trick or two this passage, for all that I’m
a blind man!”
“I hope we don’t meet him up north. I am afraid,” muttered Ruth.
“But haven’t you considered that the police may have grabbed Carew,
and the rest of that gang, for their part in that street fight?” broke
in Martin. “Of course, I didn’t see the finish of that affair, but I
remember that I saw the police coming just before I fell.”
“The police! Lay Carew by the heels!” The captain shook his head. “No
such good luck, I’m afraid. Trust Carew to win clear of the police
every time.”
“And if they did grab him, you may trust Lawyer Smatt to have procured
his release, at least upon bail, ere now. There is the hope, of course,
that when you, Martin, shied that gun into his face, he was badly
injured,” said Little Billy.
“Oh, I hope not!” ejaculated Martin.
“We hope so,” went on Little Billy. “If you had killed him, you would
have rendered mankind a service. No such luck, though—the devil never
fails to look after his own. He may not have even been stunned. The
bosun did not see what happened after you fell—he picked you up and
turned tail and ran for it. But I have no doubt Carew’s men gathered up
their leader and made off ahead of the law’s coming. Carew is too much
the fox not to have had a getaway prepared; and the clearance we dumped
off the Farallones showed that he had the _Dawn_ ready for sea. I’ll
wager we didn’t beat him out through the Gate by many hours!”
“I suppose the police are looking for us?” ventured Martin.
“Not likely,” assured the other. “We are safe away, at any rate. But I
doubt if they have even heard of the _Cohasset_. The denizens of that
groggery would have given no evidence against us—they are themselves
too deeply implicated. Also, shooting affrays are common enough on the
Frisco waterfront, even gunfights of such magnitude as we indulged in.
The police will forget all about it within a week’s time.
“Of course, if we had left you behind, to be arrested, the consequences
might have been serious enough for you, providing you did not have
money or influence. That is the main reason we brought you to sea with
us. But as it is, a dead or wounded Jap does not amount to much in
Frisco, and the affair will have slipped men’s minds long ere we see
Market Street again.”
“But—I think I killed that man, Spulvedo!” urged Martin, with a qualm
at the recollection.
“A good job if you did,” was the reply. “He was a notorious scoundrel.
If you snuffed him out, I suspect the police would feel inclined to
vote you a medal. But don’t feel badly about that incident, Blake.
Remember, you dropped him in self-defense.”
“Gentlemen!” broke in Ruth suddenly. “We will have to adjourn this
meeting till another time. Seven bells went some time ago. I have just
time to get my coffee and relieve the bosun by midnight.”
“What—the watch gone!” cried the captain. “But, lass, you have had no
rest.”
“Small matter,” assented the girl, rising. “I’ll make up for it. Is
there any change in course, captain?”
“No, make all the westing we can,” said the captain. “If this breeze
will only hold a couple of days longer, we’ll pick up the trades. Then
for the passage!”
“But—a second!” exclaimed Little Billy. “We have not yet assigned our
new brother to his duties. You know, Blake, there are no drones in the
happy family. Now, I suggest, you are eminently qualified to assist the
hard-driven steward.”
A hearty laugh from the girl and the old man checked the hunchback’s
speech.
“No, you are not going to sluff your job upon poor Mr. Blake’s
shoulders!” cried Ruth. “That is—unless he wishes to become a steward.”
“I want to be a sailor,” Martin asserted emphatically.
“Well said, lad—I know you have mettle,” commented Captain Dabney. “But
it means work. You cannot learn a sailor’s work by pacing a poop-deck.”
“I am more than willing to work—common sailor work,” said Martin.
“Well, we’ll assign you to a watch,” said the old man. “Of course, you
will live aft. Keep your present berth with Billy. You had better join
the starboard watch, I think. The bosun is a great hand to break in a
greenhorn.”
But Martin objected to this disposition. He was watching Ruth. She was
buttoning her pea-coat around her throat, preparatory to braving the
raw night. There was, he dared to think, a welcome twinkle, a meaning
message, in the sidewise glance she shot at him.
“I would rather be in the mate’s watch,” said Martin.
The captain grinned, Little Billy chuckled and muttered something about
a “sheep to the slaughter,” and the mate rewarded him with a flash of
white teeth.
“I’ll be glad to have you in my watch,” she said. “But remember—it is
all work and no play! I keep strict discipline in my watch!”
Martin then proposed to commence straightway his seaman’s career, by
standing the impending watch, by accompanying Ruth on deck. Thereupon
his officer voiced her first command:
“I don’t want you blundering about the decks to-night with that sore
head. Time enough for you to start in the morning; after breakfast
I’ll examine the wound, and if it looks well I’ll turn you to. Also,
you need to visit the slop-chest.” She pointed to his once natty, now
bedraggled, business suit. “You are hardly dressed for facing weather.
Billy will outfit you in the morning. Meanwhile, turn in and sleep.”