THE ROAD TO MELINDI
"Well, the beggar was jabbering Arabic with those three men behind
the ventilator this morning, and his actions don't look good to me,
Harcourt. Oh, you can laugh, and be hanged to you! I tell you that
John Solomon has more brains than his position warrants, and that----"
"Oh, nonsense, old chap! Don't be so beastly suspicious; Solomon
told me at Port Said that he knew a smattering of Arabic, and he's
been tremendously handy. I say, look at those hills, eh?"
Hammer relapsed into sulky silence, and presently Harcourt left the
bridge to him and sought his cabin, while the American remained
staring moodily at the purplish-blue Jeb el Geneffeh hills to the
south-west, for the _Daphne_ was passing through the Bitter Lakes,
midway of the Suez Canal.
Until reaching Port Said, the cruise had been perfect in every way,
and his half-realized suspicions of John Solomon had completely
fallen into abeyance.
As Harcourt said, the man had proved to be very useful, indeed; he
seemed to have a perfect knowledge of port regulations everywhere; he
attended to customs and _pratique_ expeditiously, and almost made
himself indispensable at mess, with his unfailing good humour and
occasional fragments of home-made philosophy.
In fact, he seemed to have taken a liking to Hammer, and the American
had begun to reciprocate it--until Port Said.
Here, barely an hour before they left for Suez, word was brought
aboard that three of the German crew were in the hands of the
Sudanese police. Dr. Krausz, who, with his secretary, had not left
his cabin a dozen times during the cruise, went ashore with Harcourt
in furious excitement, but returned considerably subdued.
It seemed that the three men had fallen foul of some French and Arabs
in the native quarter, that a row had arisen, and one of the French
had been stabbed.
Consequently, there was nothing to be done save to place the matter
in the hands of the German Consul and go on, since Krausz did not
wish to be detained pending the case.
As another of the crew was down with eye-trouble and ought to be left
behind in hospital John Solomon had offered to pick up three or four
natives who could make themselves generally useful, and after some
hesitation, Krausz accepted, and the supercargo had promptly got his
four Arabs aboard.
When, the next morning, Hammer had found Solomon talking Arabic with
three of them in shelter of a ventilator, he had at once laid the
affair of the black wallet before Harcourt, all his suspicions
aroused.
But the Englishman laughed him down, and even Hammer had to admit
that there was nothing very terrible about the pudgy little man. So
while the _Daphne_ pursued her course through the sandy wastes to
Port Ibrahim and Suez, Cyrus Hammer gradually threw off his almost
groundless suspicions and took on his usual good-humoured manner once
more.
Hans Schlak, the second mate, was a big blond German--a Viking in
appearance, slow and stolid, but thoroughly efficient in every way.
The men, too, were smart and well-behaved, responding so well to
Harcourt's discipline that Hammer was not surprised to find that most
of them had served in the German navy.
Beyond discharging her pilot and sending some letters ashore for the
doctor, the _Daphne_ made no stop at Port Ibrahim, and by next
morning she was well on her way out of the gulf and down the Red Sea.
They were holding in somewhat to the Arabian coast, and Hammer, in
charge of the bridge, was seated in the chart-house going over a
lesson in navigation, when a figure darkened the doorway and John
Solomon entered.
"Beggin' your pardon, Mr. 'Ammer, sir, but would you 'ave the
kindness to let me take a bit of a look through the glass?"
"Well, I don't know that it would do any great harm," replied Hammer
cheerfully. "Help yourself, Solomon. Want to get a last look at
Asia, eh?"
"Yes, sir," came the sober answer, as Solomon procured a pair of
binoculars. "You see, sir, I was down this 'ere way a few months
ago. Werry interesting place, Mr. 'Ammer, and when so be as you
finds an interesting place, I says----"
The rest was lost as Solomon directed a fixed gaze from the port
doorway toward the distant coast, and he did not change his attitude
for five minutes. Hammer watched him with some interest, until at
length the other lowered the glasses with a sigh.
"Lud, what a bare coast she is, sir! If I might make so bold, sir,
what be we a going to do after we reach Mombasa?"
"Why," smiled Hammer, "we're bound for a little harbour up the coast
called Melindi. We'll have to leave the yacht at Kilindini harbour,
after the trip up, and go to and from Melindi by launch, I suppose."
"Aye, sir; it's a werry bad place indeed, Melindi. And may I ask,
sir, if so be as we're a-going to stay with the yacht or go with Dr.
Krausz?"
"Not decided yet, Solomon, to my knowledge. Why, do you want to go
along with the relic-hunters?"
"No, sir, though I'm werry interested in strange things. Beggin'
your pardon, sir, Dr. Krausz is all werry well in his way, but 'is
way ain't to me notion."
"So you don't like him? That's queer!" Hammer pulled out his pipe,
and, accepting this as tacit permission, Solomon began to whittle at
a plug which he had been holding ready.
The wide blue eyes came up and met his squarely, with just the
suspicion of a frown hovering at their edges. Hammer decided that
his supercargo might yet inveigle some expression into his face if he
kept on in this way.
"No, sir; me 'umble opinion is that Dutchmen ain't to be trusted, not
so far away from 'ome; and I've 'ad some experience. Do you think,
sir, as 'ow Mr. Harcourt would give me a discharge at Mombasa? O'
course, I signed on for the voyage, sir, but I 'ave me reasons for
wantin' to be stopping off at Mombasa, so I comes to you all square
and above-board. If you want a thing, why, ask for it ship-shape, as
the Good Book says, sir. That's what I 'old to."
"Right," nodded Hammer. He was no little surprised at the request;
but as it would have been easy enough to slip the yacht at Mombasa,
the fact that Solomon asked for his discharge so long beforehand
showed a desire on his part to play fair--and also to draw his pay on
being discharged.
"I'll speak to the captain about it, Solomon, and I think it'll be
all right. But we'll be sorry to lose you, for you've certainly been
a great help to us."
"I'm sorry to be leaving you, sir," and the blue eyes opened a trifle
wider. "Thank you werry much, Mr. 'Ammer."
This was to be a day of surprises for Cyrus Hammer, however. The day
was cruelly hot, even the breeze created by the yacht's motion being
stifling, and by noon Hammer, as well as Schlak and the others
aboard, had stripped to pyjamas.
Very little had been seen of Dr. Krausz and Adolf Jenson; most of
their meals had been served in their large cabin; and from the
quantities of mail sent out at each port of call, it had been evident
that the scientist was hard at work.
That afternoon, however, while Hammer was splitting a bottle of beer
with Harcourt in the comparative coolness of the latter's cabin, the
steward appeared. He was a quiet little Englishman, who had formerly
acted as Harcourt's valet in more prosperous days, and had chosen to
remain with his master.
"Mr. Harcourt," he said, hesitantly, "I'd like to ask you about
something, sir."
"Very well, Roberts. What's on your mind, my man?"
"Why, sir"--and the steward twisted his cap nervously--"it's Dr.
Krausz, sir. I'm--I'm afraid as he's going it a bit strong, Mr.
Harcourt."
"Eh? What do you mean?"
"Why, him and that--that yeller-faced swine Jenson"--and Roberts spat
out the words with a sudden viciousness that was astounding--"I've
been a-taking them champagne, sir, all morning, and a half-hour ago
Dr. Krausz he sent for a bottle o' brandy, sir. I thought, maybe, as
how you might drop a word to him, sir. It's a mortal bad climate,
you know, sir, for such goings-on."
Harcourt stared at the American, surprise plain in his eyes.
"My word!" he ejaculated. "I'd positively no idea that he was a
tippler, 'pon my word! Has this been going on long, Roberts?"
"Off and on, sir, since we left Gibraltar. But not so heavy as this,
Mr. Harcourt."
"Very good. You did quite right in telling me, but mention it to no
one else, understand. You may go."
Left alone, the two looked at each other for a moment until Hammer
chuckled.
"So our worthy doctor has fallen off the wagon, eh? Well, it's his
funeral, cap'n, not ours. Better drop him a hint?"
"Eh? By Jove, no! I want no bally German telling me to keep my
place! He knows what he's doing, Hammer, and I'm no nursemaid, so
we'll let him drink himself to death if he likes. I'd much sooner
see that fellow Jenson go overboard in a sack, for the doctor's quite
a decent sort, don't you know."
"He might be worse," nodded Hammer. "Well, I'll be off and get a bit
of sleep under the after-awning by the electric fan."
Here he managed to obtain a modicum of relief from the heat, and
dropped off to sleep without troubling himself over the alcoholism of
Dr. Sigurd Krausz.
How long he was asleep he had no idea, until he was aroused by an
excited voice, which resolved itself into that of the doctor in
question. Half-clad, dishevelled, and with furiously-flushed
features, the archaeologist was disclaiming wildly in German to Hans
Schlak, whose watch it was.
The two were standing by the starboard rail, and as Hammer raised
himself on his hands the second mate cast a helpless glance at him.
The American caught the look, and did not hesitate to break into the
scientist's flow of words.
"Who's up on the bridge, Schlak?" he asked curtly. "You'd better get
back before the captain----"
"_Was ist_?" Krausz lurched about with a black frown, and Schlak
seized the chance to get away. At the same instant Roberts appeared,
bearing a whisky and soda. He hesitated at sight of Hammer.
"Throw that stuff overboard, Roberts," commanded the later, rising.
With a look of vast relief the steward obeyed. Krausz glared at
them, and the American saw the peculiar ribbon of muscle beating
furiously under the skin of his brow.
"How dare you!" burst forth the scientist. "Pig of an American, you
do not your place know----"
He was swinging his fists wildly in the air, and by sheer accident
managed to catch the tray of Roberts with a blow that sent it
clattering to the deck. Hammer, angry, took a step forward and
caught the German's wrists in a hard grip.
"Get command of yourself, doctor," he said quietly. "You're making a
disgraceful scene here."
For an instant the other glared at him with bloodshot, maddened eyes
which, despite his light-brown hair, were of the deepest black.
Then. Hammer caught a ripple of the man's huge muscles, and he was
flung violently back with a curse.
"Iss it not mine ship?" stormed the angry German. "Pig! Dog! I
will show you----"
He rushed forward. Hammer, seeing that he had to deal with a sheer
madman, wasted no more words but struck with all his weight behind
the blow. His fist took Krausz full in the stomach. and with a
single groan the big man shivered and collapsed in a heap.
"Roberts," and Hammer turned to the wild-eyed steward, "send two of
the Germans here to carry the doctor to his cabin. Then see to it
that I am called at four bells and not disturbed before then."
Poor Roberts fled hastily, and Hammer composed himself to sleep
again. He would have thought little of the incident, nor did he
expect that Krausz would remember it; but that evening the doctor
appeared at mess--a very rare thing. His first act was to go up to
the American with hand outstretched.
"My dear Mr. Hammer," he said, sincerity in his tone. "I deeply
regret what took place thiss afternoon, and apologize to you for it.
I----"
"Don't say any more, doctor," laughed Hammer, with an amused glance
at the wondering Harcourt, who knew nothing of the occurrence. "It's
really not worth bothering about, I assure you, and if anyone needs
to be forgiven it is I."
"Not at all," beamed the other, but the muscle over his temple was
beating hard. "By the way, you found no papers on the deck, yess?"
"I didn't notice any," returned the surprised American. "Why, did
you lose something?"
"A paper, yess. Adolf believed me to have had it when I left the
cabin. But no matter, my friend. We----"
"Hold on there!" cried Hammer quickly. "If you lost something, we'll
look into it. Roberts! Was anyone else on the after-deck?"
"I saw no one, Mr. Hammer," returned the steward. "I called the two
men, as you ordered."
Hammer frowned, but Krausz waved a hand and insisted that nothing
mattered; and so the dinner proceeded, with a brief but frank
explanation on the part of the scientist to Harcourt and John
Solomon, Schlak still being on the bridge.
Hammer was about to relieve him when Krausz asked him to wait, as he
wished to explain the purpose of his expedition.
This proved to be of little interest to the American, however. The
doctor had discovered, some time before, a number of old manuscripts
dealing with the Portuguese occupation of the Mombasa coast.
According to these, there was a place not far from Melindi where a
fort had been established, and where, afterward, a number of vessels
had been wrecked on their way from Goa to Lisbon.
The cargoes had been saved, but before they could be transferred to
Mombasa an irruption of natives had destroyed the fort. It was
believed that a great portion of valuable relics, with gifts from the
Indian viceroy to the king of Portugal, and other such things, had
been buried somewhere within the fort and had never been located.
These formed the object of the party's work; for if found they would
be of great value to historians, more especially as there were many
papers of interest supposed to be buried with the more intrinsically
valuable articles.
The subject did not appeal particularly to Hammer; but Harcourt
displayed keen interest, while John Solomon stared at Krausz with his
blue eyes growing wider and wider.
"And you mean as 'ow to say that there 'ere loot is still there,
doctor?" he broke forth at last. Krausz smiled blandly.
"Such is my hope, Mr. Solomon."
"Lud! The ways o' Prowidence are mysterious, as the Good Book says.
To think o' loot a-laying buried for all this time waiting for you to
dig it up! Once upon a time I worked for a relic-'unter, like you,
sir. A fine, upstanding man 'e was, too. But I says, when there's
summat dead, let it lie. It ain't proper to dig up the past, as the
old gent said when 'e led 'is third to the altar."
"So you used to work for an archaeologist, yess?" and for the first
time the doctor seemed to find John Solomon worthy of attention.
"Where wass that?"
"A main long time back, sir--up in Palestine it was," and Solomon
sighed reflectively.
Hammer, who was studying Krausz, suddenly saw the muscle in his brow
begin to throb. He felt himself beginning to dislike that muscle
vaguely.
"'Is name was---dang it! I've been and forgot--no, I 'aven't
neither! 'Is name was 'Elmuth!" he concluded triumphantly.
"Helmuth!" The word broke from Krausz and found echo in Hammer's
mind. The heavy-lidded black eyes of the German were bent suddenly
on Solomon. "The Herr Professor George Helmuth, yess, of the
University of California?"
"That's 'im, sir!" Solomon's eyes sparkled. "American 'e was."
"H-m!" For some reason the doctor's face darkened. "Hiss daughter
she iss my assistant, Mr. Solomon. She wass assistant curator at the
Dresden Library. Well, my friends, I bid you good evening."
Hammer also departed to the bridge, pondering over the coincidence
brought out by Solomon's words; and when Harcourt joined him for a
smoke they chuckled over it together. The captain had already
decided to let Solomon go at Mombasa, as there would be little need
of his services for a time.
"Funny thing, that," remarked the Englishman. "Fancy a woman doing
such work out here in Africa!"
"Oh, shucks!" laughed Hammer carelessly. "The kind of woman who goes
in for that work--well, you know. Spectacles and Bibles and a blue
_pagari_* on her sun-helmet."
* This is the correct spelling of the word, which is bastardized into
puggaree or pugree, and other forms. The "Standard" will probably
give pugaree, or some such spelling--_Author_.
So the matter passed, and for the time he forgot it. Indeed, Hammer
was busier than he had been for many a day. Besides lessons in
navigation from Harcourt, he was learning a smattering of Arabic from
Solomon, and already could swear fluently at the four Arab sailors,
who took a cheerful delight in adding to his vocabulary.
Also, he was rather surprised to find that he and Harcourt were
drawing closer together with every day; that he was keenly interested
in his new environment, and was looking forward to newer seas and
lands with unalloyed anticipation.
In fact, he was beginning to see the falsity of his old attitude
toward life, while the taste of authority was sweet to him. Already
the past had faded out in his mind, save for occasional twinges of
bitterness, at which times he plunged into his work and was
astonished at the ease with which the mood passed.
So the days flew by until the _Daphne_ had rounded Cape Guardafui and
the last leg of the journey was begun, down the east coast of Africa.
They were still three days out from Mombasa when Hammer, who had the
second dog watch, went to Schlak's cabin on being relieved by
Harcourt.
He wanted to ask the second officer about some detail of the chart;
and since it was nearly dark, and he made no noise in his pumps, his
approach must have been unheard.
As the door was slightly ajar, Hammer merely pushed it open with a
word and stepped in. He heard one sharply-drawn breath, and in the
gloom found himself facing Adolf Jenson, whose face was absolutely
livid.
An instant, as he switched on the light, the American saw the body of
Hans Schlak lying on the floor at his feet, a knife-shaft between the
shoulders.