I TURN SPY MYSELF
Meeker stood with folded arms and grinned at me as he saw my pistols
taken by the captain; and for the first time since I had seen him he
dropped his sanctimonious pose and looked anything but the decrepit old
missionary which he had always seemed. His shoulders were squared and his
head thrown back, and there was mockery in his eyes.
But it was not so much his insolent and triumphant look which took my
attention as the manner in which he stood upon the heaving deck of the
saloon; his knees had that limp sea-bend of the sailor and his out-turned
toes seemed to grasp the uncertain rise and fall of the carpet beneath
his feet; he was a mariner now, not a preacher, for no landsman could
hold himself so easily in a vessel which pitched and rolled in the long
swells of the China Sea.
I looked at him defiantly, and his eyes seemed to dare me to speak out
and say the things which were in my mind. He seemed to understand that I
was trying to frame a denunciation, for I was white to the lips with rage
at him.
"You seemed determined to sail in the _Kut Sang_, Mr. Trenholm," he said:
"So your insistence to be a passenger was to slay a fellow-man, was it? I
am shocked beyond measure!"
"You hound!" I screamed. "You have played your cards well, you and your
little red-headed scoundrel! If you think I am a spy you will find--"
"Tut, tut, Sally Ann!" said Captain Riggs. "We can't have any of that.
Hold your tongue, sir, or I'll have you in irons."
"If you'll give me ten minutes privately, captain, I'll tell you who this
devil--"
"I'm a man of the cloth, and I will not countenance such language!"
shrieked Meeker in an attempt to check me; but I could see that I had
cut him deeply, for he whitened and stepped toward me with closed fist.
"Don't you call me devil! You know nothing of me--tell it if you
will--what do you know? Where did you get that name?"
"Gentlemen! Gentlemen!" said Riggs, still holding one of my pistols in
his hand, and keeping an eye on the bulkhead door for the return of the
mate.
"He's a Japanese spy," I said. "He's no missionary at all, but a spy, and
the fool believes that I am in the Russian service. He tried to hold me
in Manila, and when I would not listen to his lies he has taken this way
to discredit me, probably have me hanged! It's all a plot--"
"That will do," commanded Riggs. "You have not been tried yet, Mr.
Trenholm. You can tell all that to the judge. If you go on this way I
will be compelled to make a prisoner of you. I am not taking that red
chap's word for what he says about you, but if you go on like this I will
have to put you in confinement. Otherwise, you will simply be restricted
to your cabin until we reach Hong-Kong. I will have to make sure that you
have no more arms, and if you will promise to remain in your room, that
will do until this matter is turned over to the courts, and then you may
state your case."
"Are you not going to put this man where he can do no more harm?" asked
Meeker. "You can see for yourself that my life will be in danger unless
this man is made a prisoner. I protest against his being allowed his
liberty--I have no desire to be found in my bed as poor Mr. Trego was
found here a few minutes ago."
"You will be protected," said the captain. "Mr. Harris, is that you? Take
Mr. Trenholm here to his room, and remove all his luggage and see that he
has no more arms, even so much as a pocket-knife. Then lock him in his
room."
"I protest against such treatment, Captain Riggs. If you will give me ten
minutes so that I may tell my story I will willingly obey any order you
may give, even to becoming a prisoner in my room; but I think that it
will be better for you to know the facts about this case, and what I have
learned about this Mr. Meeker in Manila."
"And what is it you have learned?" cried Meeker, advancing on me again in
a menacing manner, and plainly surprised at what I had said.
"A few things about you and Petrak that Captain Riggs should know," I
retorted.
"Mr. Harris, take Mr. Trenholm to his room," and the mate took me by the
arm and led me down the passage. As I went out Meeker grinned after me
and whispered something to Captain Riggs behind his hand.
Harris opened the door and thrust me before him into the dark stateroom
and commanded me to light the gimbal-lamp, passing me a match. When I had
the lamp lit he took a quick glance inside.
"That man Meeker is a spy," I began. "It was for him that Petrak killed
Trego, and all day in Manila he and that little fellow were at my
heels--"
"Stow that," said Harris. "Take what you need out of yer gear, and hand
the rest of it out, and mind that thar's no gun-play about it. I'm well
heeled, and if ye make a move I'll let daylight through yer innards. Look
lively now."
I took a pair of pajamas and a few toilet-articles from my bag. He
would not let me have my razors, or any of the packets of papers or my
money belt. When he had taken my grip he demanded my clothes, and left
me in my pajamas and locked the door, with a growl of caution about
monkey-business.
"We hain't takin' no chances with gents like ye be," he said. "And mind
that ye stick close here, 'cause we've got a watch outside, and the first
time we ketch ye up to any didoes we'll have ye below with brass
bracelets on with yer pal Petrak, where ye belong."
At this he slammed the heavy oak door and turned the key in the lock.
My first emotions were anger and the sense of humiliation. I was beaten,
outwitted, captured by Meeker, and by my own stupidity. But I realized
that the battle had but just begun, and my first task must be to attempt
some defence, some counter move against the old fraud who had drawn his
plot about me for his own mysterious object.
I berated myself for my conceit in imagining that I could play with such
a dangerous man as Meeker proved himself to be, especially since I had
seen through his disguise almost from the first. One of two things in
Manila would have saved me from my position--either I should have told
Meeker at once that he was mistaken in thinking me a spy and warned him
to keep clear of me, or I should have told the police that I was being
annoyed by a suspicious character. I had had grounds enough for making a
complaint against Meeker and Petrak when I found the little red-headed
man sneaking outside my door in the hotel, and the supposed missionary
blocking my pursuit on the stairway.
Even if the police had given me no satisfaction, I could have warned
Meeker that I would not submit to his espionage--a hundred ways of
protecting myself from the fellow came into my mind as I sat there on my
berth and reviewed what had taken place in Manila before I ever went on
board the _Kut Sang_.
But that was all past, and it did me no good to go over the mistakes I
had made. I was bitter at myself for allowing Petrak to bring my bag on
board, for I had thus given him an opportunity to claim me as an ally in
the murder.
The best that I could make of the whole affair was that Meeker took me
for a spy, as I had suspected from the first, and in order to prevent me
from going to Hong-Kong for some purpose opposed to the plans of his
masters, had done his best to keep me out of the steamer.
Then, when he found that he could not block me in going, he did the next
best thing and came with me. To further embarrass me and prevent me from
accomplishing the object of my supposed mission in Hong-Kong, he had got
me involved in a crime from which I knew I would have a great deal of
difficulty in getting myself free, especially as Petrak seemed willing
enough to testify against me even though he should hang for the murder.
It seemed beyond reason that they should kill Trego simply to have
something of which I might be accused; it seemed to me that my own death
would have been an easier way to get rid of me.
I began an analysis of every event which entered into the total of the
mystery, seeking for some key which would aid me in assorting the tangled
bits that only needed to be arranged properly to bet the solution, much
as a jig-saw puzzle is worked out. If I had a proper beginning it would
all be easy enough.
The killing of the boatswain in the Flagship Bar seemed significant,
although I could not connect it with Meeker's plot against me, and I had
to lay that episode aside until I saw it in its proper relation to the
other parts.
Standing near the lamp, I wrote down on a scrap of paper each event in
its proper order, from my first sight of Meeker that morning as I arrived
at the mole from Saigon. When I had made a note of the delivery of the
letter to the Russian consul at the bank, I found Trego and Meeker
together--the spy disguised as a missionary seeking alms, and Trego
driving him out of the room.
It was obvious enough to me that in delivering the letter I had walked
into some sort of a plot of which I had no knowledge, for Meeker was not
only spying upon me, but he was spying upon Trego or the bank.
The next time that Trego entered the list was when I was introduced to
him in the bank, of little importance in itself, but worth a great deal
when connected with the fact that Trego left Manila in the _Kut Sang_
and in charge of the ship, to the amazement of even Captain Riggs.
"Trego killed." As I put that down it flashed upon me that he had been
struck down before he had told Captain Riggs why he had papers as
supercargo--and a few minutes after he had shown that he was suspicious
of Meeker!
I was baffled and realized that it was a waste of effort to attempt to
theorize about the snarled web in which I found myself enmeshed. One
thing was apparent enough, and that was Meeker did his best to keep me
out of the _Kut Sang_, as he said, and I reached the conclusion that it
was not me so much as the steamer which concerned him when he sought to
divert my path from the vessel. If I had taken his broad hints in Manila
I would have cancelled my ticket and probably never seen him again.
There was little comfort in proving that my own blunder had led me into
such a mess. I threw the pencil down and sat on the edge of the lower
berth. My anger was giving way to alarm. I began to realize that perhaps
being a prisoner was the safest for me while on the steamer, for if
Meeker had brought about the death of Trego because the supercargo
suspected him, why should he not attempt to kill me after what I had said
about him to Captain Riggs?
I remembered that he had shown concern when I offered to tell Riggs about
him--he was ready to strike me down on the spot, and his plea that I
might attack him was made more for the purpose of having me put out of
reach of the captain than for his own protection. I was still a
passenger, even though confined to my room, and he knew that I might find
an opportunity to tell my story to Riggs.
At least I was safe for the night, and I knew nothing could be done in
the way of explaining things to Riggs before morning. I decided that I
would ask for paper and write a brief account of Meeker and Petrak for
him and let him judge for himself.
I blew out the lamp and opened the port, but hooked it so that the heavy
brass-rimmed glass acted as a shield for me as I lay in the upper berth.
I had no desire to have a pistol thrust through the port while I was
asleep, and after what had happened I was ready to see danger in
anything.
The steamer was well to sea, and there was a stiff breeze blowing, which
made her pitch and roll heavily. Her beams and joints groaned every time
she bucked into a sea, and the wash at her freeboard and the spray
breaking on the deck outside made a great racket. Her old engines jolted
and jarred and vibrated every inch of the _Kut Sang_, and I could hear
the whir of the propeller as it lifted out of the water when her head
plunged into a swell.
But although I tried to put everything out of my mind and get some
sleep, my imagination conjured up possible situations for the next
day conferences with Captain Riggs, fights with Meeker, a confession
forced from Petrak that he had lied when he charged me with complicity in
the murder.
I tumbled and tossed in my berth and counted a million sheep jumping a
fence, worked at the multiplication table, and resorted to other devices
to get into a doze, but every new creak, every groan of the straining
timbers, kept me wide awake.
One of the most irritating noises was the grating of some object hanging
on the bulkhead close to my head. I could not hear it when the vessel
pitched, but when she took a long roll to starboard it rattled a second
and then rasped along the board. Locating the sound in the dark, I groped
along the planks to find the loose object, and my fingers came upon a
small metal rod. I seized it and lifted it from a hook, and with the tips
of my fingers found it to be a key!
Bounding out of my berth, I went to the door with it, certain that it
was a spare key to the stateroom. Cautiously I tried it in the large,
old-fashioned lock, and it turned back easily. I tried the knob, and the
door swung inward.
I closed it again and debated for a minute what I should do, and,
deciding that anything could not be worse than lying idle in a cell, made
up my mind to venture out and call upon Captain Riggs if I could find
him, or do a little spying on my own account to learn of any new
development since I had been dismissed from the saloon and imprisoned.
I held the door open a few inches for several minutes and listened for
some suspicious sound in the dark passageway. I remembered that Harris
had said something about a guard at the door, but although I strained my
eyes, in the darkness I could see no one. Each end of the passage was
capped by a penumbra of dim light, for although the sky was overcast, the
open air was not so dark as the intensified gloom of the passage.
My courage grew as I stood in the doorway, and I stepped out, closing the
door silently and not locking it, but knotting the key in the string of
my pajamas.
I listened for a minute at Meeker's door but heard nothing. His room was
next to mine, but further aft, with one or more doors between his and
where the passage gave on the open after-deck, Captain Rigg's room was on
the same side, but away forward, under the end of the bridge, close to
the open ladder which led down to the fore-deck.
In my bare feet I made no noise, and slowly made my way forward to see if
there was a light in Captain Riggs's room. Before I had gone far I
heard a murmur of voices, and then saw a sliver of light from the jamb of
a door. There was a conversation going on in the captain's room, but I
could not distinguish the voices. I went on to the forward end of the
superstructure and discovered a port-hole in the captain's cabin partly
open, and by going up three steps of the bridge-ladder I had a partial
view of the room.
Captain Riggs was fully dressed, and sat at a shelf which dropped from
the wall. He was sorting out papers, and Harris, the mate, was standing
over him, talking.
"You must be mistaken, Mr. Harris," I heard the captain say.
"Make me third cook if I be!" exclaimed Harris, who seemed to be in an
irritable mood. "I know what I'm talking about, cap'n! I run my thumbnail
along the edges of it."
"Sally Ann's black cat, Mr. Harris!"
"All I ask ye to do, cap'n, is come down and have a look at it for
yerself. That's what this is all about I'm tellin' ye! We got somethin'
on our hands, I tell ye! We've got to do somethin' about it right away
or we'll have more trouble. What if the crew smells a rat?"
"You got a little too excited about that murder, Mr. Harris. I'd know all
about that. The owners wouldn't send me to sea with such as you say, and
say nothing to me, nor the charter party, either. They'd use a liner and
about forty men for anything like that. I'm crazy enough now, what with
this murder and mess, without getting myself stirred up over anything
like that. You better get some sleep. We'll find in the morning that you
made a mistake."
"But I had a light on it!" insisted Harris. "It's thar, I tell ye, and I
made sure. I don't come botherin' of ye with no cock-and-bull story like
this unless I know. I held a bull's-eye light on it and it showed plain
as Cape Cod Light. One of them chists got sprung, and I thought maybe I'd
made a mistake when I put the light on it, but when I rubbed my thumbnail
on it I knew I was right. I know the feel, I tell ye. Every cussed one of
'em is the same, too."
"I tell you, Mr. Harris, I've had tomfoolery enough for one night, and
I ain't going down in the hold and dig around in cargo and get the crew
suspicious. They are stirred up enough as it is with what's gone on
to-night, and I guess that's what ails you."
"Cuss it all, Cap'n Riggs!" exclaimed Harris in exasperation. "Ye ought
to know I don't get gallied for a little blood spilled. I slep' in a bunk
all one night in the _Martha Pillsbury_ with a man what didn't have any
head and never turned a hair. Ye know that old barkentine whaler that
Cap'n Peabody sold. Dang it all, cap'n, that is what this man Trego come
aboard as he did--that's what he was here fer. It come down at the last
minute and he bossed the job of gettin' it aboard.
"Wouldn't let a man touch it, but had his own chinks from shore-side get
it aboard with slings from the davits, and watched 'em stow it in the
storeroom. It ain't in the hold. When I come across the key to the room I
made up my mind I'd have a look at it. Tinned milk! Marked tinned milk! I
say tinned milk hell! I wash my hands o' the whole cussed mess if ye
don't look at it and see for yerself.
"I don't want the responsibility, and we've got to take some precaution.
That's what the killin' was for, and I'll bet a clipper-ship to a
doughnut-hole that writin' chap Trenhum knows about it, and he ain't no
writin' chap, neither. Thar has been bad business, and there'll be more
from what's below, mark my words. Come below and look at it."
"You looked it over in good shape with a light," said Captain Riggs,
evidently in doubt as to what he should do. "It ought to be on the
manifest, you know, Mr. Harris."
"Cuss the manifest! It's down as machinery and marked tinned milk. What
more ye want? They got things switched somehow, and that's plain as
the nose on yer face. I had my thumb on it, I tell ye."
"Then, if that is true, it explains why Mr. Trego was so mysterious, and
why he wanted to be a passenger to the others. That's what he was aboard
for, right enough, and like as not he would have told me if he had been
left alive long enough. It don't strike me reasonable that he'd keep
anything like that from me--not with the way things are going these days.
The master of the vessel ought to know in a case like that, and a
scraped-up crew." Riggs began to button his coat.
"Of course that was what he was so close-jawed for, and that's why the
owners was so close-jawed. Like as not they didn't know--charter was for
cargo, and they didn't bother their head about that part of it. Some sort
of a sneak game about it, of course, but we've got to mind our P's and
Q's now.
"The owners nor the charter party can't help us none with it now, say I,
and as master ye're got to do as ye see fit. All this monkey-business
to-night comes from it. I don't like the passengers and I don't like
these new whites in the crew. They know one another, I'm tellin' ye. The
long chap and Buckrow sailed with Petrak. They pretend they don't know
one another--all bosh--thick as fleas when no one is a watchin' of 'em.
"See how Buckrow was so smart handin' over his knife to the red chap when
he got in a jam? I say, where did we git them three jewels--the writin'
chap brought the little red killer, and the parson brought the long
fellow and Buckrow. Looks funny to me, cap'n--and we don't want no
Devil's Admiral aboard of us."
"Mr. Harris!" exclaimed Captain Riggs getting to his feet, "you are not
fool enough to believe stories about the Devil's Admiral, are you? That's
all newspaper talk and water-front gossip."
"I ain't so doggone sure about that, cap'n--bein' gossip. Of course, I
don't suspect nothin' like that aboard here, but from what Chips Akers
told me before he died, after the loss of the _Southern Cross_, I'm not
so sure this devil's-admiral talk is all folderol. Chips couldn't tell
much before he went under, but the _Southern Cross_ was boarded by the
Devil's Admiral sure enough--didn't they find a sextant out of her in a
store in Shanghai?
"Ships that go down in typhoons don't have their chronometers pop up in
Shanghai a year later, I'm tellin' ye. There ain't nobody ever saw this
here Devil's Admiral, sure enough, that lived to tell it, but ships don't
always go down in deep water and never a boat got off or a life-preserver
or a spar or a door found on the beach.
"Thar's been bloody work in the last three or four years in these
waters--look at the _Legaspi_; never a man jack out of her, and sailed
from Manila, as we did, for Hong-Kong, and never heard of. Steamer she
was, too, right in the steamer-lanes. They say the Devil's Admiral got
her, and I more'n half believe it."
"Sally Ann! Sally Ann!" said Captain Riggs. "I guess I better go down,
Mr. Harris, and look this thing over and get it off yer mind, or ye'll
be fretting yerself and losing sleep with such yarns running wild in
yer top-piece. I don't like this night prowling a mite, but take the
bull's-eye along, and never a bit of light until we are in the storeroom.
"I don't want the crew hugging our heels on this trip below, 'cause ye
may be right about it, at that. Be sure the slide is shut in that
lantern, and call the boy to watch for us. Be sure that glim is doused--I
don't want anybody to know about this."
I slipped off the ladder and clung to the superstructure out of the range
of the light which spurted from the open door as Harris came out. He went
aft for Rajah, and when he returned in a minute Captain Riggs was
standing at the head of the fore-deck ladder waiting for them. Harris
whispered something, and I saw the three figures descend to the fore-deck
and heard them enter the companionway to the lower deck. I followed them.