Much to the surprise of their friends, who had not expected them
home until November or December, telegrams were received from the
adventurers, one day towards the end of September, announcing that
they had landed at the Albert Docks and were on their way home by the
earliest train. The most agreeable explanation of so short a voyage was
that, having found the treasure, they had resolved to return home by
steamer, leaving the _Fair Emily_ to return at her leisure. But Captain
Bowers, to whom Mrs. Chalk propounded this solution, suggested several
others.
He walked down to the station in the evening to see the train come in,
his curiosity as to the bearing and general state of mind of the
travellers refusing to be denied. He had intended to witness the arrival
from a remote corner of the platform, but to his surprise it was so
thronged with sightseers that the precaution was unnecessary. The news
of the return had spread like wildfire, and half Binchester had
congregated to welcome their fellow-townsmen and congratulate them upon
their romantically acquired wealth.
Despite the crowd the captain involuntarily shrank back as the train
rattled into the station. The carriage containing the travellers stopped
almost in front of him, and their consternation and annoyance at the
extent of their reception were plainly visible. Bronzed and
healthy-looking, they stepped out on to the platform, and after a brief
greeting to Mrs. Chalk and Mrs. Stobell led the way in some haste to the
exit. The crowd pressed close behind, and inquiries as to the treasure
and its approximate value broke clamorously upon the ears of the
maddened Mr. Stobell. Friends of many years who sought for particulars
were shouldered aside, and it was left to Mr. Chalk, who struggled along
in the rear with his wife, to announce that they had been shipwrecked.
Captain Bowers, who had just caught the word, heard the full particulars
from him next day. For once the positions were reversed, and Mr. Chalk,
who had so often sat in that room listening to the captain’s yarns,
swelled with pride as he noted the rapt fashion in which the captain
listened to his. The tale of the shipwreck he regarded as a disagreeable
necessity: a piece of paste flaunting itself among gems. In a few words
he told how the _Fair Emily_ crashed on to a reef in the middle of the
night, and how, owing to the darkness and confusion, the boat into which
he had got with Stobell and Tredgold was cast adrift; how a voice raised
to a shriek cried to them to pull away, and how a minute afterwards the
schooner disappeared with all hands.
“It almost unnerved me,” he said, turning to Miss Drewitt, who was
listening intently.
“You are sure she went down, I suppose?” said the captain; “she didn’t
just disappear in the darkness?”
“Sank like a stone,” said Mr. Chalk, decidedly. “Our boat was nearly
swamped in the vortex. Fortunately, the sea was calm, and when day broke
we saw a small island about three miles away on our weather-beam.”
“_Where?_” inquired Edward Tredgold, who had just looked in on the way
to the office. Mr. Chalk explained.
“You tell the story much better than my father does,” said Edward,
nodding. “From the way _he_ tells it one might think that you had the
island in the boat with you.”
Mr. Chalk started nervously. “It was three miles away on our
weather-beam,” he repeated, “the atmosphere clear and the sea calm. We
sat down to a steady pull, and made the land in a little under the
hour.”
“Who did the pulling?” inquired Edward, casually.
Mr. Chalk started again, and wondered who had done it in Mr. Tredgold’s
version. He resolved to see him as soon as possible and arrange details.
“Most of us took a turn at it,” he said, evasively, “and those who
didn’t encouraged the others.”
“Most of you!” exclaimed the bewildered captain; “and those who
didn’t—but how many——?”
“The events of that night are somewhat misty,” interrupted Mr. Chalk,
hastily. “The suddenness of the calamity and the shock of losing our
shipmates—”
“It’s wonderful to me that you can remember so much,” said Edward, with
a severe glance at the captain.
Mr. Chalk paid no heed. Having reached the island, the rest was truth
and plain sailing. He described their life there until they were taken
off by a trading schooner from Auckland, and how for three months they
cruised with her among the islands. He spoke learnedly of atolls, copra,
and missionaries, and, referring for a space to the Fijian belles,
thought that their charms had been much overrated. Edward Tredgold,
waiting until the three had secured berths in the s.s. _Silver Star_,
trading between Auckland and London, took his departure.
Miss Vickers, who had been spending the day with a friend at Dutton
Priors, and had missed the arrival in consequence, heard of the disaster
in a mingled state of wrath and despair. The hopes of a year were
shattered in a second, and, rejecting with fierceness the sympathy of
her family, she went up to her room and sat brooding in the darkness.
She came down the next morning, pale from want of sleep. Mr. Vickers,
who was at breakfast, eyed her curiously until, meeting her gaze in
return, he blotted it out with a tea-cup.
“When you’ve done staring,” said his daughter, “you can go upstairs and
make yourself tidy.”
“Tidy?” repeated Mr. Vickers. “What for?”
“I’m going to see those three,” replied Selina, grimly; “and I want a
witness. And I may as well have a clean one while I’m about it.”
Mr. Vickers darted upstairs with alacrity, and having made himself
approximately tidy smoked a morning pipe on the doorstep while his
daughter got ready. An air of importance and dignity suitable to the
occasion partly kept off inquirers.
“We’ll go and see Mr. Stobell first,” said his daughter, as she came
out.
“Very good,” said the witness, “but if you asked my advice——”
“You just keep quiet,” said Selina, irritably; “I’ve not gone quite off
my head yet. And don’t hum!”
Mr. Vickers lapsed into offended silence, and, arrived at Mr. Stobell’s,
followed his daughter into the hall in so stately a fashion that the
maid—lately of Mint Street—implored him not to eat her. Miss Vickers
replied for him, and the altercation that ensued was only quelled by the
appearance of Mr. Stobell at the dining-room door.
“Halloa! What do you want?” he inquired, staring at the intruders.
“I’ve come for my share,” said Miss Vickers, eyeing him fiercely.
“Share?” repeated Mr. Stobell. “_Share?_ Why, we’ve been shipwrecked.
Haven’t you heard?”
“Perhaps you came to my house when I wasn’t at home,” retorted Miss
Vickers, in a trembling but sarcastic voice. “I want to hear about it.
That’s what I’ve come for.”
She walked to the dining-room and, as Mr. Stobell still stood in the
doorway, pushed past him, followed by her father. Mr. Stobell, after a
short deliberation, returned to his seat at the breakfast-table, and in
an angry and disjointed fashion narrated the fate of the _Fair Emily_
and their subsequent adventures. Miss Vickers heard him to an end in
silence.
“What time was it when the ship struck on the rock?” she inquired.
Mr. Stobell stared at her. “Eleven o’clock,” he said, gruffly.
Miss Vickers made a note in a little red-covered memorandum-book.
“Who got in the boat first?” she demanded.
Mr. Stobell’s lips twisted in a faint grin. “Chalk did,” he said, with
relish.
Miss Vickers, nodding at the witness to call his attention to the fact,
made another note.
“How far was the boat off when the ship sank?”
“Here, look here—” began the indignant Stobell.
“How far was the boat off?” interposed the witness, severely; “that’s
what we want to know.”
“You hold your tongue,” said his daughter.
“I’m doing the talking. How far was the boat off?”
“About four yards,” replied Mr. Stobell. “And now look here; if you want
to know any more, you go and see Mr. Chalk. I’m sick and tired of the
whole business. And you’d no right to talk about it while we were away.”
“I’ve got the paper you signed and I’m going to know the truth,” said
Miss Vickers, fiercely. “It’s my right. What was the size of the
island?”
Mr. Stobell maintained an obstinate silence.
“What colour did you say these ’ere Fidgetty islanders was?” inquired
Mr. Vickers, with truculent curiosity.
“You get out,” roared Stobell, rising. “At once. D’ye hear me?”
Mr. Vickers backed with some haste towards the door. His daughter
followed slowly.
“I don’t believe you,” she said, turning sharply on Stobell. “I don’t
believe the ship was wrecked at all.”
Mr. Stobell sat gasping at her. “_What?_” he stammered. “_Wh-a-a-t?_”
“I don’t believe it was wrecked,” repeated Selina, wildly. “You’ve got
the treasure all right, and you’re keeping it quiet and telling this
tale to do me out of my share. I haven’t done with you yet. You wait!”
She flung out into the hall, and Mr. Vickers, after a lofty glance at
Mr. Stobell, followed her outside.
“And now we’ll go and hear what Mr. Tredgold has to say,” she said, as
they walked up the road. “And after that, Mr. Chalk.”
Mr. Tredgold was just starting for the office when they arrived, but,
recognising the justice of Miss Vickers’s request for news, he stopped
and gave his version of the loss of the _Fair Emily_. In several
details it differed from that of Mr. Stobell, and he looked at her
uneasily as she took out pencil and paper and made notes.
“If you want any further particulars you had better go and see Mr.
Stobell,” he said, restlessly. “I am busy.”
“We’ve just been to see him,” replied Miss Vickers, with an ominous
gleam in her eye. “You say that the boat was two or three hundred yards
away when the ship sank?”
“More or less,” was the cautious reply.
“Mr. Stobell said about half a mile,” suggested the wily Selina.
“Well, perhaps that would be more correct,” said the other.
“Half a mile, then?”
“Half a mile,” said Mr. Tredgold, nodding, as she wrote it down.
“_Four yards_ was what Mr. Stobell said,” exclaimed Selina, excitedly.
“I’ve got it down here, and father heard it. And you make the time it
happened and a lot of other things different. I don’t believe that you
were any more shipwrecked than I was.”
“Not so much,” added the irrepressible Mr. Vickers.
Mr. Tredgold walked to the door. “I am busy,” he said, curtly. “Good
morning.”
Miss Vickers passed him with head erect, and her small figure trembling
with rage and determination. By the time she had cross-examined Mr.
Chalk her wildest suspicions were confirmed. His account differed in
several particulars from the others, and his alarm and confusion when
taxed with the discrepancies were unmistakable.
Binchester rang with the story of her wrongs, and, being furnished with
three different accounts of the same incident, seemed inclined to
display a little pardonable curiosity. To satisfy this, intimates of the
gentlemen most concerned were provided with an official version, which
Miss Vickers discovered after a little research was compiled for the
most part by adding all the statements together and dividing by three.
She paid another round of visits to tax them with the fact, and, strong
in the justice of her cause, even followed them in the street demanding
her money.
“There’s one comfort,” she said to the depressed Mr. Tasker. “I’ve got
you, Joseph. They can’t take you away from me.”
“There’s nobody could do that,” responded Mr. Tasker, with a sigh of
resignation.
“And if I had to choose,” continued Miss Vickers, putting her arm round
his waist, “I’d sooner have you than a hundred thousand pounds.”
Mr. Tasker sighed again at the idea of an article estimated at so high a
figure passing into the possession of Selina Vickers. In a voice broken
with emotion he urged her to persevere in her claims to a fortune which
he felt would alone make his fate tolerable. The unsuspecting Selina
promised.
“She’ll quiet down in time,” said Captain Bowers to Mr. Chalk, after the
latter had been followed nearly all the way to Dialstone Lane by Miss
Vickers, airing her grievance and calling upon him to remedy it. “Once
she realizes the fact that the ship is lost, she’ll be all right.”
Mr. Chalk looked unconvinced. “She doesn’t want to realize it,” he said,
shaking his head.
“She’ll be all right in time,” repeated the captain; “and after all, you
know,” he added, with gentle severity, “you deserve to suffer a little.
You had no business with that map.”