CAPTAIN ALDEN STANDS REVEALED
Hardly had the trembling Arab salaamed and departed in terror of soul,
knowing not what fearful events might be impending, when Bohannan
appeared. The smile on the Master's lips, the sternly calculating
expression in his eyes, faded into something as near astonishment as
this strange man ever felt, when the major exclaimed:
"Well, faith now, what d'you think? The most improbable thing you can
imagine!"
"What may that be, Major?"
"It's not what it may be, it's what it _is_ that's astonishing me.
We've got a stowaway aboard us!"
"Stowaway? Impossible!"
"True, nevertheless. Manderson has just now routed him out of the
starboard storage-room, near the reserve petrol-tank."
"Hm! Who is he?"
Bohannan shrugged stout shoulders.
"Don't know yet. He's still dopy. Just coming out of the effects of
the lethalizing gas."
"Ah, yes, yes, I see. One of the former crew, I suppose. This is
quite inexcusable. That a man should have been overlooked and left
aboard--it won't do, Major. Kloof was responsible for that room. Kloof
will have to suffer. Any other news?"
"Travers, the New Zealander, is wounded."
"Badly?"
"I'm afraid he's hard hit, sir."
"Well, I'll have a look at him and at this stowaway. Where are they,
now?"
"In the lazaret, I suppose you call it. Though what a hospital is,
aboard an air-liner, blest if I know!"
"Sick-bay, we'll call it. Problems rising already. A stowaway--rather
odd, I must say. Still, as a problem, it's not hard to solve. Nothing
simpler than dropping a man overboard."
"You--surely, you wouldn't do that!" ejaculated the major, startled.
His rubicund face grew round with amazement.
"That remains to be seen. Come, let's have a look at him!"
Together they went out into the brightly lighted main corridor, near
the ladder to the upper gallery, turned to the right and walked aft.
A door, just a little abaft the chartroom and, opposite the Master's
cabin, gave a glimpse of the as yet unoccupied smoke-room. Astern
of this, they passed the dining-saloon with its long table and
its swivel-chairs. Beyond several stateroom doors they came to the
transverse corridor at the other side of which, directly facing the
main corridor, the engine-room door opened.
Entering the engine-room, they found themselves in a brightly lighted
compartment fifteen feet wide by twenty-six feet, seven inches long.
This compartment contained six Norcross-Brail engines, each capable
of developing 1,150 H.P. The engines were in charge of Auchincloss and
two assistant engineers, who had all six engines filling the room with
a drowsy drone, like ten billion bees humming themselves to sleep in
some mysterious hive.
So nicely adjusted was every part, so accurately true was every shaft,
bearing, gear, that practically no vibration could be noted. The
voice, in ordinary tones, carried perfectly; and yet in that small
space nearly 7,000 H.P. were being produced and transmitted to the
propellers and to the storage batteries that operated helicopters and
compressed-air system, as well as the lighting-plant of the air-liner.
As the two men entered the engine-room, the Master nodded to
Auchincloss. He stood a moment gazing at the brightly flecked metal of
the engines, the gleaming walls--hollow and filled with noninflammable
helium gas of great lifting power--the men on watch over all this
splendid mechanism. Then he passed between engines No. 4 and No. 5,
toward the aft wall of the compartment.
Four doors opened in the bulkhead, there. Two communicated with
storerooms, one opened into the passage that led to the aft
observation pit, the fourth gave access to the sick-bay. This door the
Master slid back. Followed by the major he passed through.
A small but fully equipped hospital met their eyes. Cots,
operating-table, instrument-cases, sterilizers, everything was
complete. Immaculate cleanliness reigned. On two of the cots, men were
lying.
Beyond, Captain Alden--still fully dressed--was sitting on a white
metal chair. The captain's face was still concealed by the celluloid
mask, but a profound pallor was visible on the lower portion of his
right cheek and along his left jaw. The set of that jaw showed an
invincible obstinacy that bespoke rebellion.
Dr. Lombardo, a dark-skinned Florentine, who had been talking with
Captain Alden, turned at the Master's entrance into the sick-bay.
Already Lombardo had put on a white linen jacket. Though he had not
yet had time to change his trousers, he nevertheless presented a
semi-professional air as he advanced to meet the newcomers.
"I'm glad you're here, sir," said he to the Master. "There's trouble
enough, already."
"Stowaway?" The Master advanced to the nearer cot.
"Yes, sir. Perhaps not voluntarily so. You know how he was found."
"Such oversight is inexcusable!" The Master leaned down and shook the
man by the shoulder. "Come, now!" he demanded. "What's your name?"
Curiously he looked at the stranger, a man of great strength, with
long arms and powerful, prehensile hands that reminded one of an
ape's.
"It's no use questioning him, sir," put in Lombardo, while the major
peered curiously at Alden and at the other cot where a man was lying
with a froth of bright, arterial blood on his lips. Though this man
was suffering torment, no groan escaped him. A kind of gray shadow had
settled about eyes and mouth--the shadow of the death angel's wings.
"It's no use, sir," repeated the doctor. "He hasn't recovered
consciousness enough, yet, to be questioned. When he does, I'll
report."
"Do so!" returned the Master, curtly. "I hardly think we need use much
ceremony in disposing of him." He turned to the other cot. "Well, sir,
how about this man?"
"I'm--all right, sir," weakly coughed the wounded New Zealander. He
tried to bring a hand to his forehead, but could hardly lift it
from the sheet. The doctor, with compressed lips, slightly shook a
negativing head, as the Master raised interrogative brows.
"Serious," Lombardo whispered. "Shot through the right lung. Bullet
still there. Severe internal hemorrhage. I may be able to operate,
with Daimamoto assisting, but only in case the patient rallies. We
really need a nurse, on this expedition. Medically speaking, we're
short-handed. However, I'll do my best, sir."
"I know you will," answered the Master. He stood a moment gazing down
at the New Zealander, with stern face and tight mouth. This man on the
cot had already given much for the expedition, and might give all. Not
without blood and suffering--death, perhaps--was the Master's dream to
come to its fruition. After a moment, the Master turned away. He faced
Captain Alden.
"Your wound not yet dressed?" demanded he.
"No, sir, not yet."
"And why not, pray?"
"He's simply refused all attention, whatever!" put in the doctor.
"I have a reason, sir," Alden proffered.
"No reason can overrule my orders!" the Master exclaimed. "I commanded
you to report to Dr. Lombardo for treatment."
"Nevertheless, sir, I refuse--"
"Insubordination will not be condoned, sir!"
"My reason is valid. When you have heard it, you will understand."
"State your reason, sir!"
"I decline--here."
For a long moment the eyes of the Master met those of Captain Alden,
that strangely peered out at him through the eyeholes of the pink,
celluloid mask. Bohannan and the doctor stood by, curiously observing
this conflict of two wills. Silence came, save for the droning purr
of the engines, the buffeting gusts of wind along the fuselage, the
slight trembling of the gigantic fabric as it hurled itself eastward
through the high air of night.
"This is inexcusable," said the Master, crisply. "I give you one last
chance. Either permit treatment, or consider yourself under arrest."
"Before you proceed to such lengths," the captain replied, "I ask one
favor of you."
"What favor?"
"Two minutes alone with you, sir."
"Come with me!"
The Master turned and left the sick-bay. Alden rose, weakly enough,
and followed him. As the door opened and closed again, the engines
hummed louder, then sank again to their dull murmur. Bohannan remained
with the doctor.
"Well, faith, can you beat that?" exclaimed the major. "There's an
Ethiopian in the woodpile, sure enough. Something strange, here, I'm
thinking! Something damned strange here!"
"Is there anything here that _isn't_?" asked Lombardo, with an odd
laugh, as he turned back to the cot where lay the dying New Zealander.
Alone in his cabin with Captain Alden, the Master faced the
insubordinate member of his crew with an expression of hard
implacability. The captain stood there determinedly confronting him.
His right hand held to the table for support. His left sleeve was
sodden with blood; the left arm, thrust into the breast of his coat,
was obviously numbed, paralyzed.
"Well, sir, what have you to say for yourself?" coldly demanded the
Master.
"I repeat that I cannot--and will not--submit myself to any medical
attention from any member of this expedition."
"This is dangerous ground you're treading!" the Master exclaimed. His
voice had deepened, grown ominous. "You understood perfectly well the
conditions of the undertaking--unquestioning obedience to my orders,
with life-and-death powers in my hands, to punish insubordination."
"I understand all that, sir," answered the captain. "I understand it
now. Nevertheless, I repeat my refusal to obey."
"By Allah! There must be some deep cause here!" ejaculated the Master,
his eyes smoldering. "I intend to work my will, but I am a man of
reason. You are entitled to a hearing state your objection, sir. Speak
up!"
The captain's answer was to raise his right hand and to loosen the
cords securing the celluloid mask. As the Master watched, steadying
his nerves against the shock of what he felt must be a nameless horror
underneath, Alden tore away the mask and threw it upon the table.
"Here is my reason, sir," said he very quietly, "for not permitting
Lombardo, or any other man here, to dress my wound."
"Good God!" exclaimed the Master, shaken clean out of his aplomb. The
shock he had expected had come to him, but in far other guise than
he had counted on. With clenched fists and widening eyes he peered at
Alden.
The face he now suddenly beheld, under the clear white light of the
cabin, was not the hideous, mangled wreck of humanity--The Kaiser's
Masterpiece--he had expected to see.
No--far, and very far from that!
It was the face of a woman. One of the most beautiful women his eyes
ever had rested on.