THE KEY OF THE SAFE.
"George," said the captain, closing the door behind him, "I am sorry to
tell you that Murray's safe has been robbed, that the key and three
thousand dollars in money are missing, and that you are supposed to know
more about it than anybody else."
The effect of these words can be more readily imagined than described.
George could scarcely believe that he had heard aright. His eyes opened
to their widest extent, his under jaw dropped down, and the expression
of his face changed like lightning. Bewilderment, grief, incredulity,
almost every emotion of which the human mind is capable, was reflected
in his countenance, but he did not look guilty. He tried to speak, but
he could not utter a sound.
"We have come here to search your room," said the captain.
These words aroused George. The only feeling that possessed him now was
one of intense indignation; but still he spoke calmly.
"Who dares accuse me of such an act?" he demanded. "Show him to me. Let
me stand face to face with him and ask him his reasons for suspecting
me. Is it you, Walker?"
"It is both of us," answered the second clerk.
"Do you suspect me because you saw me trying to open the safe day before
yesterday?" asked George, still speaking very calmly.
"Why, Ackerman, any sane boy would be willing to acknowledge that that
was a very suspicious circumstance," replied Walker.
"Didn't you assure me that the thing had been explained to your entire
satisfaction? I tell you in Murray's presence, as I told you once
before, that he handed me the key, gave me the combination and sat there
on his high stool and watched me while I was at work on the safe. Murray
is that so or not?"
The chief clerk's face was a sight to behold. He was white to the lips
and trembling so violently in every limb that he was obliged to place
his hand against the bulkhead for support. He opened his mouth as if he
were about to speak, but no words came forth.
"Why don't you deny it to him as you did to me?" demanded Walker, while
both he and the captain looked at the chief clerk in astonishment.
"I am too angry to say anything," replied Murray.
George was thunderstruck. "Am I to understand that you deny it?" he
cried, as soon as he could speak.
"I do, most emphatically," answered Murray, whose courage began to
return to him as soon as he heard the sound of his own voice. "There's
not a word of truth in it."
"Didn't you give me the key and tell me to see if I could open the
safe?" repeated George, who wondered if he were awake or dreaming.
"I never did. People who handle money are not in the habit"--
He never finished the sentence. All of a sudden George's right arm shot
out with the force of a thunderbolt, Murray's head came in violent
contact with the door, splitting one of the panels, and Murray himself
sank helplessly to the floor. The young pilot, who now began to have a
very dim idea that he was the victim of a deeply laid plot, was
thoroughly aroused, and he would have handled the schemer roughly indeed
if the captain and Walker had not caught him in their arms and held him
fast.
"What a desperate wretch he is," thought the second clerk, who did not
know which to wonder at the more--the cool assurance of the guilty boy,
or the power of the arm that had so quickly and easily made a "spread
eagle" of his superior. "He looks as innocent as a lamb."
"There's a bug under that chip, and it's a big one, too," thought the
captain, by which he meant to inform himself that there was something
back of all this that needed looking into. "No guilty boy ever looked
and acted like Ackerman. I shall not allow any more violence," said he
sternly. "I promise you that the thing shall be thoroughly investigated
and the blame placed right where it belongs; but if you don't behave
yourself I'll put the handcuffs on you."
"All right, sir," said George, in reply. "The sooner you get to the
bottom of it the better you will suit me. You said something about
searching my room. There are my keys. Go through my trunk thoroughly,
and if you can find anything in it or in my room to condemn me, I will
acknowledge myself guilty."
The captain took the keys, inserted one of them into the lock of
George's trunk and hesitated. He knew then, as well as he knew it
afterward, that he was on the wrong track. The second clerk being of a
different opinion, began an attack upon George's bunk. Picking up the
pillow, he caught the case by the corners and gave it a shake, when
something that gave out a metallic sound fell to the floor. Walker
caught it up and held it aloft with an exclamation of triumph. It was
the key of the safe. The young pilot fairly gasped for breath when he
saw it. He gave Murray one look and seated himself on Mr. Black's trunk.
"George, George!" exclaimed the old captain, sorrowfully. "How do you
account for that?"
"I can't account for it, sir," replied the boy; "I never put that key
there."
[Illustration: MURRAY ACCUSES GEORGE OF ROBBING THE SAFE]
The captain placed his hands behind his back, and looking down into the
clear, honest eyes that were gazing straight into his own, told himself
that the boy was no more a thief than he was. "Do you know where the
money is?" he asked.
"I do not, sir; I have never seen it. The one who put that key there can
tell you where he put the money. You have made a good beginning, and you
had better go on with your search."
"Pull off the pillow-case, Walker," said Murray, who had backed up into
one corner of the room, and stood holding his handkerchief over his
wounded eye. "I don't see why that money didn't fall out," he added,
mentally.
The second clerk acted upon the suggestion, but found nothing. Murray,
who closely watched all his movements, grew a shade whiter than ever,
and his heart sank within him. This was the second hitch in his
programme. The first was the captain's unshaken faith in George's
innocence. That was something that Murray had not look for, and perhaps
it was one reason why he did not play his part better.
"It was a well-laid scheme, and I cannot yet see where I made a mistake
in it," soliloquized the chief clerk, whose suspense and alarm were so
great that he scarcely knew how he was acting. He was almost ready to
thank George for giving him that blow, because it furnished him with an
excuse for keeping his face covered. "I can't imagine where that money
has gone. I put three hundred dollars in that pillow-case at the same
time I put the key there, and how it has disappeared so suddenly beats
me. If anybody saw me put it there--"
Murray could not bear to dwell upon this thought. It suggested too many
dreadful things to him.
As he was in duty bound to do, the captain made a searching
investigation, but the money he was looking for could not be found. He
questioned George very closely, but could learn nothing from him, for
the simple reason that he did not know anything about it.
"This is a sad affair," said the captain, at length, "and the law will
have to look into it. George, I have known you but a short time, but
somehow I have great confidence in you."
The accents of kindness touched the boy's heart, and his eyes filled
with tears. "Thank you, sir," said he, heartily. "I assure you that I
shall never abuse that confidence."
"Consequently, if you will promise that you will not leave the boat
until we reach St. Louis, I shall put no restraint upon you," added the
captain.
"I promise; I am as anxious to have this matter looked into as you are;
more so, for I have more at stake."
"Very well. Now, gentlemen, we will go below," said the captain,
addressing himself to the clerks. "I shall consult with some of the
officers, and be governed by their advice."
George's visitors went out, and the boy set to work to repack his trunk
and make up the bunks. When this was done, he walked leisurely up the
steps that led into the pilot-house, and found the captain and the chief
engineer in consultation with Mr. Black and his partner.
"George!" exclaimed Mr. Black, seizing the boy's hand in both his own
and shaking it heartily; "these fellows mean to ruin you, don't they?"
"I am afraid they have done it already," replied George, with a sickly
smile.
"Not by a long shot," said the other pilot, who stood at the wheel. "I
know that the evidence is against you, but your friends have not all
turned their backs on you. Has Murray any reason to be down on you?"
"Well, I'll tell you something, and then you can answer that question
for yourself," answered George, who then went on to describe how Murray
had acted when he saw him pick up Mr. Black's lost pocket-book. His
auditors opened their eyes and looked significantly at one another when
George explained how it came that he had been so intimate with the chief
clerk ever since the Telegraph left St. Louis.
"It's a put-up job," said the chief engineer, decidedly. "I heard that
Murray lost a good deal of Clayton's money at cards when he came up on
the Quitman a few months ago, and that Clayton discharged him for it.
That shows that he is not honest. You asked my advice, captain; I should
say, let the matter rest until we reach the city, and then set the law
at work. I'll promise that George will not run away," added the
engineer, poking the young pilot in the ribs with his finger. "If you
want to watch anybody, watch Bill Murray."
This was the captain's idea too, and after some discussion it was
decided that the engineer's advice should be followed.
Bad news flies like wild-fire, and it was not long before it was known
all over the boat that George Ackerman had broken into the office and
robbed the safe of three thousand dollars, and that the captain had
virtually placed him under arrest The chief clerk, who was obliged to
explain how he got that black eye, industriously circulated this story.
He saw the necessity of creating a popular opinion in his favor, for he
was literally alone. All the officers who heard his version of the
affair looked incredulous, and even Walker acted as though he had his
suspicions. Murray, of course, had known all along that when the
denouement came a rigid investigation would be held, but he relied upon
the overwhelming evidence he could produce to crush George and turn all
his friends against him. But the young pilot positively refused to be
crushed. Feeling strong in his innocence he was determined to make a
fight of it, while his friends--and it looked now as though every man on
board the boat was his friend--rallied to his support.
"There's something about this business that doesn't look just right to
me," said Walker, as he and Murray went back to the office and began to
put things in order there; "but I can't for the life of me tell what it
is. I can tell you this much, however, if there had been a stranger with
us when we went up to Ackerman's room, he would have declared that you
looked and acted more like a guilty man than George did."
"Walker," exclaimed the chief clerk, sharply. "Do you mean to insult
me?"
"No; I don't. I mean to tell you that I didn't believe Ackerman knows
any more about this robbery than--than I do." He was about to say "than
you do."
"Who did it, then. Why, man alive, just look at the evidence."
"I know. But when that evidence comes to be sifted by some sharp
lawyer"--Walker stopped there, and left his companion to finish the
sentence for himself. "Mark my words," he added, a moment later. "We're
going to see lively times before this thing is settled."
"I begin to think so, too," thought Murray. "I am afraid I have jumped
out of the frying-pan into the fire. I wonder if I hadn't better take
what is left of that three thousand, and step off the boat when we reach
Memphis without saying a word to anybody? That's an idea worth thinking
about."
While this storm was raging about the young pilot's devoted head,
another was brewing which proved to be as dangerous to human life as
this one was to George's reputation. A thick, black cloud, which had
been hanging in the horizon all the forenoon, now began rising rapidly,
and in ten minutes more it had covered the whole heavens. The rain fell
in torrents and the wind blew a gale. The Telegraph was within whistling
distance of Helena when the storm struck her. For a while it seemed as
if the wind would sweep her decks clear of everything; or, failing that,
drive her back down the river; but she struggled successfully against
it, and finally came abreast of the town. It was a matter of no little
difficulty to come alongside the wharf-boat without smashing something,
but under the skilful management of Mr. Black and his partner, the
landing was made, and after the engineers had been instructed to "keep
her working ahead pretty strong," so that the wind would not blow both
steamer and wharf-boat away from the bank, the occupants of the
pilot-house sat down on the bench to talk over the events of the day.
While they were thus engaged, the watchman suddenly made his appearance,
bringing with him a pale, scared face, and said something to the
captain, who stood in his usual place near the bell. The latter at once
hurried below, while the watchman came into the pilot-house to report
that one of the cabin boys had been "pinched" between a fender and a
stanchion and very severely injured. The way it happened was this: When
the Telegraph came abreast of the wharf-boat, the wind caught her and
swung her toward it with great violence. One of the mates, seeing the
danger, called out, "Stand by, everybody, to fend off! Drop those
fenders overboard! _Everybody_, I said," he added, shaking his fist at a
negro, who was passing along the deck from the engine-room with a pail
of hot water in his hand.
Now, although the negro knew all about the duties of a boy who was
employed in the cabin, he knew nothing about a deck hand's business.
Setting down his pail, he rushed to the side in readiness to assist in
pushing the Telegraph away from the wharf-boat; but it so happened that
he placed himself close to a stanchion, at the top of which was fastened
a fender--a heavy piece of timber long enough to reach from the
boiler-deck to the water. No sooner had he taken up his position, than
two of the deck-hands seized the fender attached to that stanchion and
dropped it overboard. It swung down to its place, and striking the
darkey with fearful force, pinned him fast. He was released as soon as
the Telegraph swung away from the wharf-boat, carried off in a fainting
condition, and laid upon one of the bunks in the deck hands' room, while
the watchman was dispatched to acquaint the captain with the accident,
and to inquire if there was a surgeon among the passengers. This was the
substance of the story to which George and his companions listened. None
of them had much to say about it, for accidents of all kinds were of too
frequent occurrence to attract any especial notice from men of their
calling. They could not foresee the results that were to grow out of
this one.
The storm abated about the time the Telegraph was ready to continue on
her way up the river, and George took Mr. Kelsey's place at the wheel.
As soon as the boat was fairly under way the captain turned toward the
pilot-house, when the doctor, who had been summoned to attend to the
injured man, came up the stairs. "I was looking for you, captain," said
he. "That man of yours is badly hurt and ought to go to the hospital."
"All right," said the captain. "I'll put him ashore at Memphis. I never
heard of so careless an act but once before. I knew a deck hand to put
his head between a stanchion and a fender, and his neck was broken short
off. It is a wonder to me that this man escaped with his life."
"We physicians while acting in our professional capacity, sometimes come
into possession of very important secrets. This man, believing that he
is going to die, has made a confession, and I--shall I tell it to you
here?"
"Yes, speak freely," said the captain, who wondered if the steward had
missed any of the silver belonging to the boat. "There is no one to
overhear you."
"I understand that there has been a robbery committed on board this
boat," continued the doctor, whereupon the captain began to open his
eyes; "but I don't know whether or not this man's confession will throw
any light upon it. He said that he was at work scrubbing out one of the
rooms in Texas, wherever that is--"
"There it is," said the captain, pointing to the little cabin under the
pilot-house. "The officers sleep there."
"O!" exclaimed the doctor. "Well, while he was at work in that
state-room he saw the chief clerk of the boat go into Ackerman's room,
take a pillow off his bunk, and put some money and a key into it. Here
is the money, and I--my goodness, what's the matter?"
When the doctor said "here's the money," he drew out of his pocket a
package wrapped up in something that looked like a piece of brown paper.
As soon as the captain's eyes rested upon it, he snatched it from the
hands of the astonished physician and opened it. The brown paper proved
to be a large envelope, and its contents were greenbacks. The envelope
bore Murray's name and address, and in the upper left hand corner were
the figures $300.
"Pardon my rudeness, doctor," said the captain, "but you don't know how
impatient I was to see what was in that roll. This is a matter of
importance, the first thing you know, and you have completely unravelled
something that was to me a deep mystery. Go on, please."
"Well," said the doctor, "when Murray went out, the negro stepped into
the pilot's room and stole the money. That's all there is of it. I don't
pretend to know why the clerk put the money into the pillow instead of
placing it in the pilot's hands, and neither do I know what the key was
placed there for."
"I know all about it," explained the captain. "If you will excuse me now
I will see you later."
The captain ran down to the boiler-deck and walked around to the outer
door of the office, which he entered without ceremony. Both the clerks
were there--Walker perched upon a high stool and Murray lying in his
bunk with his handkerchief over his wounded eye. They both stared at the
captain in great surprise. They had never seen such an expression on his
face before.
"Murray," said the captain, without any preliminary remarks, "you might
just as well own up. The whole thing is out on you!"
Murray raised himself in his bunk and tried to look astonished, while
Walker leaned his elbows on the desk and nodded his head, as if to say
that he had been expecting something of this kind.
"The man who saw you put the money and the safe-key into Ackerman's
pillow, in your endeavor to fasten this robbery upon him, has made a
confession," continued the captain. "I don't wonder that you tremble; I
should if I were in your place. You can save yourself trouble by
handing out the rest of that three thousand. You've got it, and I know
it. If you will do that, I think I can safely promise that Ackerman will
let the thing drop right here, and be content to leave you to the
punishment of your own guilty conscience."
The chief clerk could not say a word in reply. The rapidity with which
the young pilot's vindication had followed upon the heels of his
accusation bewildered him. The mysterious disappearance of the money
which he had so confidently expected that Walker would find in George's
pillow had caused him the most intense alarm, for it told him that
somebody had discovered his secret; that somebody had confessed, and it
was all over with him.
"There's the money you put into George's pillow when you put the
safe-key there," said the captain, handing the envelope and the bills
over to Walker, "and I tell you that you will have a time of it if you
don't refund the balance. Now, do as you please."
Murray sank back upon his bunk, covered his face with his handkerchief,
and without saying a word put his hand into his pocket and drew out a
roll of greenbacks. Walker took it and counted it while the captain
looked on. There were twenty-seven hundred dollars in it, and that
amount, added to the three hundred dollars which the injured darkey had
surrendered to the doctor, made up the three thousand dollars that
George had been accused of stealing.
"That's all right. Where's the key of the safe? Now," said the captain,
as Murray produced it, "vacate this office at once, and leave Walker in
charge. Don't come near it again."
The captain left the office and went up to the pilot-house. George and
the two pilots were there, and so was the chief engineer, who was laying
out some very elaborate plans for establishing George's innocence, which
were to be set on foot as soon as they reached St. Louis. When the
captain entered, he was saying,
"We'll put a detective after him, and find out everything he has done
since Clayton discharged him. Don't you think that would be the best
way, skipper?"
"There is no need of it," was the reply. "I know pretty nearly what he
has done since he has been on board this boat, and that's enough for
me. Don't look so down-hearted, George. I told you that the blame
should be placed right where it belonged, and I have kept my word.
Murray is the guilty man!"
Without paying any attention to the exclamations uttered by his
auditors, the captain gave a hurried account of all the incidents that
had happened since the Telegraph left Helena, and the story, while it
cleared George, confirmed the suspicions that every one of them had
entertained from the moment it became known that he was suspected of
robbing the safe. The young pilot was almost overwhelmed by the
congratulations he received, and it is hardly necessary to add that he
cherished the strongest feelings of gratitude toward the men who had
stood by him and believed in him when everything seemed to point to him
as the guilty one.
George never saw Murray after that. In fact, nobody seemed to think of
him, until the boat had left Cairo and was well on her way toward St.
Louis, and then some one asked, merely out of curiosity, where he kept
himself ever since the captain ordered him out of the office. Even
Walker couldn't tell. At Murray's request he had assigned him to a
stateroom, and he had not seen him since he went into it. An
examination showed, that the stateroom was empty, although the lower
bunk looked as though it had been occupied.
"He's all right; you may depend upon it, Ackerman," said Walker, who had
lost no time in making things straight with George. "I know, as well as
I want to know it, that he left the boat at Memphis. As we got there in
the night, it was no trouble at all for him to step off without being
seen by anybody."
The clerk was right. That was just the way that Mr. Murray had taken, to
avoid the troubles that would certainly have befallen him if he had gone
on to St. Louis. George never heard of him again, as long as he stayed
on the river.
Mr. Black was not out of a "job" more than two days after he reached St.
Louis. Another of Mr. Richardson's boats, the Benefit, was about to
start for New Orleans, and he was one of the pilots who was engaged to
take her down and bring her back. The other was Mr. Scanlan, who
afterward went down the river with Mr. Black and George on the ill-fated
Sam Kendall. Mr. Scanlan spent all his time ashore, Mr. Black stayed at
home with his family, and George was left to take the boat up to the
coal-fleet. He could not help thinking of the company he had the last
time he went up there, and wondered where Tony was now, and whether he
was not sorry he had ever run away from home; for by this time it had
become known, that he had not been killed by Mr. Vandegriff's negroes,
as everybody at first believed. He had been heard from at Cairo. From
that city he had written to Mr. Vandegriff, that he was about to strike
out for himself; and he had sent that gentleman all his money, with the
exception of fifty dollars, which he had kept out for his own use.
Unfortunately the report had became raised abroad, that Tony had stolen
those fifty dollars; but that was something that George could not
believe. It was not like Tony.
The Benefit arrived at New Orleans late one afternoon, and when George
had eaten his supper, he strolled out to take a look about the levee.
When he came back to his boat he did not go aboard, but seated himself
on a bale of cotton to watch a gulf steamer that was getting under way.
While he looked at her, he thought of Tony Richardson.
"I suppose that foolish fellow is on deep water by this time, and
supping sorrow with a big spoon," soliloquized George, as he put his
hands under his legs and kicked his heels against the bale of cotton. "I
don't know anything about a sailor's life, but from what I have heard
and read of it, I should say it was the very life for which Tony is the
most unfitted. There goes a sailor now. I wish Tony could have seen him
before he ran away."
The subject of these thoughts was a young fellow who just then came
sauntering along with his hands in his pockets. His face was covered
with coal-dust, his clothing was very dirty and ragged, and his shoes
were almost ready to drop from his feet. When he came opposite to the
place where George was sitting, he caught sight of the strip of canvas
which was stretched around the railing of the Benefit's hurricane deck,
bearing the words, "For St. Louis." He looked at it for a moment, and
then walked toward the gang-plank, still keeping his gaze directed
toward the strip of canvas, which presently came within range of the
steamer's name on the pilot-house. When the sailor saw that, he faced
about at once and started up the levee again, this time walking pretty
rapidly; but before he had made many steps, he felt George Ackerman's
grasp upon his arm.
"Tony!" exclaimed the young pilot, in great amazement.
The sailor turned his face toward George, but it was so completely
covered with coal-dust that nobody could tell what the expression of it
was. He looked at the trim, neatly-dressed boy before him, then his eyes
fell down upon his own dilapidated garments, and he made an effort to
pull himself away. "You have made a mistake," said he. "That doesn't
happen to be my name."
"Tony, Tony, that won't do," returned George, tightening his grasp on
the sailor's arm. "I was a little uncertain at first, but I am not now.
I know your voice. Aha! I thought so," said George to himself, as the
boy covered his face with his hands and sobbed violently.
It was Tony, sure enough. George put his arm around him and led him back
to the cotton-bale from which he had just arisen. He lifted Tony upon it
bodily, and seated himself by his side.
"No use of shedding the briny over it," said George, who was delighted
to see his friend once more. "You're going home now, are you not?"
"Yes, I am," replied Tony, between his sobs. "And if I ever get there,
I'll stay. That is, I'd like to stay, for I have had quite enough of
salt water, but I don't know whether the folks will want me there or
not."
"I do," said George, cheerfully. "They'll be overjoyed to see you again,
and you'll get there just as soon as the Benefit can take you."
"Oh, I can't go on her," exclaimed Tony. "She is my father's boat, and
almost all the officers know me. I was going aboard of her to see if I
could ship as deck-hand when I noticed the name on her pilot-house."
"You'd look nice, shipping as deck-hand, wouldn't you, now?" said
George. "You shan't do it while I have a bunk. What difference does it
make to you if the officers do know you? You'll have to meet people who
know all about it, and you might as well begin one time as another. Now,
where have you been and what have you been doing since I last saw you?"
There was no need that Tony should indulge in flights of fancy or use
glowing language to convince George that he had had an exceedingly hard
time of it during his short career as a sailor. He had hardly began his
story before the young pilot interrupted him with--
"You have lifted a heavy load from my mind. I was informed that you had
stolen that money of Mr. Vandegriff.
"I didn't," said Tony, stoutly. "I earned it fairly. I'll go to Mr.
Vandegriff with you as soon as we reach St. Louis and ask him if I
didn't."
"There is no need of that," answered George "I believe you. Go on."
"The hardest part of my experience," said Tony, after he had described
his life on the Princeton and told how he had deserted from her, "was on
board the City of Baltimore; but fortunately the voyage was not a long
one, and I was able to live through it. I suppose I was a rough-looking
fellow, but that was no reason why the mates should kick me and knock me
about as they did. I never showed myself until the ship was well out to
sea, and then I wished I hadn't showed myself at all. The jawing I got
when they found that I was a stowaway was fearful, but it was nothing to
the abuse that followed. I was put to heaving coal and kept at it until
I was ready to drop. The men who worked with me were changed every few
hours, but they wouldn't let me stop at all. I feel as if I could sleep
for a week."
By the time Tony had finished his story it was dark, and George took him
aboard the Benefit and up to his room in Texas. There were plenty of
towels, soap and water handy, and when George had laid out a suit of his
own clothing for Tony to put on, he left him to himself. An hour later
he went back to his room and found that the runaway had taken possession
of his bunk and was sleeping soundly. He looked more like the Tony of
old now that he had got rid of the coal-dust and put on a suit of better
clothes, but his face was thin and pinched and his eyes were still badly
discolored.
Great was the astonishment among the officers of the Benefit when it
became known that Tony Richardson had turned up safe, if not sound, and
that he was on his way home. Of course they were all glad to see him,
and praised him without stint for the courage he had exhibited during
the battle on the barge; but they never said a word to him about running
away from home. They did not talk or act as though they knew anything
about it. When the Benefit reached St. Louis he went straight to the
depot to take the first train for Kirkwood, George furnishing the money
to pay his fare, and promising to run up to the office and let his
father know of his arrival.