Throughout the next few days Jimmy found himself in a veritable
whirlpool of perplexity and doubt. He knew quite well what he ought to
do, but could see no way of doing it. Hitherto, affairs had been going
persistently against him.
In the first place, he knew that Rudolf Stork was a spy, and the man was
probably on his way to England on some secret business not unconnected
with the war. It was Stork who had broken open the cases of cargo in
the after-hold, to find them filled with service rifles for the British
army. Again, the man had given proof of his own guilt when, during the
panic that ensued when the ship was believed to be sinking, he had cast
the contents of his sea-chest overboard. That the papers in question
had been of an incriminating nature could not be doubted; the strange
message, written upon a half sheet of note-paper, was probably in some
code which could be deciphered easily enough at the Headquarters of the
German Secret Service in Berlin. It was even possible that Stork had
managed to convey the intelligence to the "Dresden" that the "Harlech"
was carrying contraband goods in the shape of munitions of war. They
had been saved at the eleventh hour; but there was no certain guarantee
that Stork--if he was really guilty of such treachery--might not attempt
to betray the ship again to enemy submarines, as soon as they had gained
English waters.
On board the whole ship, Jimmy alone was conscious of the danger in
which they stood. Stork, by the depth of his perfidy and his outrageous
cunning, had managed to put Captain Crouch upon a false scent, by
levelling an accusation at the only person who was fully aware of his
own guilt.
Jimmy knew all this, and thought it out, time and again, during the long
watches of the night; and in the end, he determined to interview Captain
Crouch, to see if the little sea-captain could be persuaded to listen to
his story even for a few minutes.
With this object in view, Jimmy waited an opportunity which did not
present itself for some time. In the first place, the captain was
seldom alone, and Jimmy--by Crouch's orders--was never allowed to work
by himself. It was not until they were nearing the south coast of
Ireland, and Crouch was growing anxious in regard to prowling submarines
from Kiel and Wilhelmshaven, that the boy was able to seize his chance.
It was during the middle watch at night, and Jimmy, who had not been to
sleep, saw a light suddenly appear in the captain's cabin. At the same
time, the aquiline and birdlike features of Captain Crouch were
silhouetted against one of the portholes that looked out upon the
forecastle and the forward well-deck.
Jimmy slipped from his bunk, crossed the well-deck, and reached the
main-deck by way of the companion-ladder.
He found the door of the captain's cabin ajar, and looking in, saw
Crouch bending over a chart. The atmosphere of the room was thick with
the smoke of Bull's Eye Shag, and the extraordinary pungent odour of
this strange tobacco was wafted along the deck.
It was as much as Jimmy could do to summon sufficient courage to knock;
and when, at last, he did so, the sound of the captain's gruff voice,
which was not unlike the sharp bark of a dog, caused him visibly to
start.
"Come in," said Crouch. "Come in."
Jimmy, recognizing that he was about to take the bull by the horns,
screwed up all his courage, took in a deep breath, and entered the room.
The moment he set eyes upon the boy, Crouch set his brows in a frown.
"You!" he exclaimed. "I thought I gave definite orders that on no
account were you to attempt to see me."
Jimmy, who had intended to maintain a bold front throughout the
interview, found all his resolution vanish before the single piercing
eye of Captain Crouch. He took another step forward, and brought both
his hands together with the gesture of one who begs for mercy.
"Please, hear me, sir," he pleaded. "I have something of the utmost
importance to tell you. I declare that I will speak nothing but the
truth."
"Do you mean," said Crouch, "that you have come at this hour of the
night to confess that you are a German spy?"
"I mean nothing of the sort, sir. I am innocent."
Crouch turned upon his heel with a gesture of impatience.
"You mean to lie," said he; "you mean to lie to the end. You belong to
a breed of liars."
"I come of English blood, sir," answered Jimmy. "My family has a good
name."
The boy was going on to speak of "Swiftsure Burke," and the Admiral's
gallant deeds, when Crouch took him up in a voice of thunder that must
have been audible to the officer on watch upon the bridge.
"I care nothing for your pedigree," said he; "for ought I know you may
be descended from Peter the Hermit. If you've got the good name you
say, you can clear it in a public court, as soon as ever you are set
ashore in England."
"Sir," said Jimmy, "the clearing of my good name will not help to save
your ship."
Crouch looked up.
"What d'ye mean?" he asked.
"I mean, sir, that I am innocent, as I have said, but there is one on
board this ship who is, in truth, a spy."
"Who?" asked the captain.
"The ship's carpenter," said Jimmy.
"Rudolf Stork?"
"The same, sir; the man who accused me falsely."
Crouch shook his head.
"You ask me to take your word against his? Why should I do so? There's
a plain question as from one man to another--though you're nothing more
than a boy. If I believe him, I take the word of a man who came to me
with a good character, who has done his work well since he has been
aboard. If I believe you, I put my trust in one against whom the
evidence is overwhelming, who slunk on board this ship like a thief in
the night. No, my lad; I'm a plain man, and, I hope, a fair one. I've
a good share of common sense. I want to do the right thing, as any
God-fearing man should do; but, I've formed my opinion of you, and I'm
not disposed to alter it. One thing, and one thing only, is in your
favour. The other day, when the ship was in danger, when we were under
fire from that pirate's guns, I noticed that you behaved yourself like a
man. When the shrapnel shells were bursting in the rigging, you were
the last hand to leave the pumps. I saw that myself, and I'm grateful.
But it's not proof, mind you. You're a plucky lad, sure enough, else
you'd never have taken on the job you're doing now. I give credit where
credit's due; but, the fact that you have a certain amount of courage
goes rather to prove, than to disprove, that you are a German spy."
The captain paused, knocked out his pipe upon the toe of his cork foot
into a large spittoon that stood upon the floor, and then gave vent to a
grunt which might have signified either satisfaction or disapproval.
Jimmy saw that there was nothing left to him but to produce such
evidence as was afforded by the strange message upon the half sheet of
note-paper. With trembling hands, he drew this from his pocket, and
held it towards Captain Crouch.
"I found that," said he.
He had meant to say much more, but a sense of injured innocence and
indignation, and a full realization of his own helplessness, made it
difficult for him to control his voice.
Crouch looked at the paper, turning it over several times in his hand,
and then read it aloud.
"What's all this?" he asked.
"It belonged to Stork, sir," muttered Jimmy.
"And what of that, my boy? What does it mean?"
"I can't say, sir," stammered Jimmy. "I thought that, perhaps, you
might be able to explain. It has some hidden meaning. I know that
Stork is a German spy."
Crouch crumpled the paper in his hand and hurled it across the cabin in
a fit of impatience. "Hidden meaning to Jericho!" he roared. "Go to a
younger man than me, and one who knows less of the world, with an old
wives' tale like that. This is so much gibberish, written by an idle
sailor who thought to ape the scholar, when he had been better employed
sail-making or splicing ropes. Go back to bed, my lad, and worry me no
longer. I hold fast to my resolve; you shall be tried for your life in
Portsmouth by a proper legal court, and if you can't give a satisfactory
account of yourself, as sure as a typhoon in August in the China Seas,
you'll swing for a German spy."
Without a word, poor Jimmy Burke left the captain's cabin, more
heartbroken and despondent than he had ever been before. Captain
Crouch, for all his virtues--and these, as we are soon to learn, were
many--was a hard man by nature, and, moreover, one who was as obstinate
and pertinacious as any rough and weather-beaten mariner can be.