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CAPTAIN CALAMITY
by
ROLF BENNETT
Author of "The Adventures of Lieut. Lawless, R.N."
Second Edition
Hodder And Stoughton
London New York Toronto
MCMXVI
Printed in Great Britain by Hazell, Watson & Viney, Ld.,
London and Aylesbury.
To
MY WIFE
CONTENTS
CHAPTER I. THE PARTNERS 13
CHAPTER II. THE DEPARTURE OF THE "HAWK" 21
CHAPTER III. MUTINY 29
CHAPTER IV. THE CASTAWAYS 36
CHAPTER V. DORA FLETCHER 44
CHAPTER VI. MR. DYKES RECEIVES HIS LESSON 53
CHAPTER VII. THE AGITATOR 61
CHAPTER VIII. THE PRIZE 69
CHAPTER IX. TRAGEDY 78
CHAPTER X. THE CAPTAIN'S "APPEAL" 86
CHAPTER XI. THE FIGHT 95
CHAPTER XII. A DESPERATE VENTURE 103
CHAPTER XIII. THE EBB TIDE 114
CHAPTER XIV. THE ATTACK 120
CHAPTER XV. MCPHULACH EXPLAINS 129
CHAPTER XVI. CALAMITY KEEPS HIS WORD 135
CHAPTER XVII. THE CONFESSION 147
CHAPTER XVIII. DORA FLETCHER'S CHANCE 155
CHAPTER XIX. AT THE WHEEL 163
CHAPTER XX. IN COMMAND 171
CHAPTER XXI. THE SIGNAL GUN 179
CHAPTER XXII. MR. SMITH SEEKS A PARTNER 185
CHAPTER XXIII. DORA FLETCHER ANSWERS "NO" 194
CHAPTER XXIV. THE MACHINATIONS OF MR. SOLOMON 201
CHAPTER XXV. THE ARREST 209
CHAPTER XXVI. THE TRIAL 217
CHAPTER XXVII. THE LETTER 228
CHAPTER XXVIII. HOME 239
CHAPTER XXIX. NOBLESSE OBLIGE 248
CHAPTER I
THE PARTNERS
"_Know all men that we do by these presents issue forth and grant
Letters of Marque and reprisals to, and do license and authorise
John Brighouse to set forth in a warlike manner the ship called the
'Hawk,' under his own command and therewith by force of arms to
apprehend, seize and take the ships, vessels and goods belonging to
the German Empire, wherefore it may and shall be lawful for the
said John Brighouse to sell and dispose of such ships, vessels and
goods adjudged and condemned in such sort and manner as by the
course of Admiralty hath been adjudged._"
The man who had been reading aloud from the closely written parchment
laid it down on the table and glanced inquiringly at his companion. He
was a man of between forty and fifty, a little over five feet in height,
but so squarely built that, without exaggeration, he was well-nigh as
broad as he was long. His head was small and bullet-shaped with a thatch
of wiry black hair, and his face, bronzed to a copper-hue, was
clean-shaven. A pair of thick, shaggy eyebrows brooded over eyes that
usually produced a shock when first seen; for while one was steely-grey
and possessed extraordinary mobility, the other was pale green and gazed
upon the beholder with the fixed and stony stare of a dead fish. But
this alarming optical phenomenon admitted of a simple explanation. At
some period in his eventful career, Captain Calamity--for thus he was
known throughout the length and breadth of the Pacific--had had the
misfortune to lose an eye. After experiencing some difficulty in
obtaining a glass substitute, he had at last managed to secure one
second-hand from the relative of a gentleman who no longer required it.
The other man, Isaac Solomon by name, might have been any age from forty
to sixty. He was lean and angular, with features of a pronounced Hebraic
cast and a pair of beady black eyes that conveyed the impression of
mingled cunning and humour. His upper lip was shaven, but he wore a
beard which, like the few remaining hairs upon his head, was of a dingy
grey colour.
This oddly assorted pair were seated in a small room, half parlour, half
office, at the rear of the premises wherein Mr. Solomon carried on the
business of ship-chandler. The one window, partly shuttered to keep out
the fierce glare of the sun, looked out upon Singapore Harbour, with its
forest of masts and busy fleet of small craft darting to and fro across
the sparkling, unruffled surface of the water.
"That good enough for you, Solomon?" inquired Captain Calamity, tapping
the parchment.
"Vell----" the other paused and meditatively rubbed the palms of his
long, skinny hands together. "I suppose," he went on hesitatingly, "it
is all O.K.; genuine--eh?"
"What; this letter of authority?"
Mr. Solomon nodded in a deprecating, half-apologetic sort of way.
"I thought that the British Government did not issue any Letters of----"
"Listen!" interrupted his companion, snatching up the document. "'In the
name and on the behalf of His Britannic Majesty, King George the
Fifth----'"
He stopped abruptly and, pushing the parchment across the table with an
impatient gesture, pointed to a signature just above the large red seal.
"Look at that," he said.
Mr. Solomon scrutinised the signature as a bank clerk might scrutinise a
doubtful cheque.
"Yes," he murmured at last, "it is not a forg--I mean," he corrected
himself hastily, happening to catch the Captain's eye, "it seems quite
genuine. Oh yes, quite. Still, I would like to know----"
"How I came by this authority--eh?" broke in the other with a
contemptuous laugh. "And you'd like to know why I'm referred to there as
John Brighouse and not as Captain Calamity. You're itching to know,
aren't you, Solly?"
"Merely as a matter of pissness."
"Exactly. Well, as a matter of business, I'm not going to enlighten you.
How I obtained the Letters of Marque is my concern; the reason why I am
referred to therein as John Brighouse is not your concern. For the rest,
to you and to every one else in these parts, my name remains what it
always has been--Captain Calamity. Savvy?"
"A tree is known by its fruit--eh, Captain?" And Mr. Solomon
laughed--that is to say, his throat emitted a strange, creaking noise
which suggested that his vocal organs needed oiling, while his lips
twitched convulsively.
"And your ship," he went on when this mirthful mood had passed, "vere is
she?"
"That is a question which you can answer better than I."
Mr. Solomon's face was eloquently interrogative.
"I mean that, if you intend to join in this little venture with me, you
must solve the problem."
"But I don't understand," said the other anxiously. "You tell me you
have a ship called the _Hawk_, and now----" he shrugged his shoulders
with a helpless gesture.
"I'm afraid your enthusiasm's carried you away, friend Solomon. I never
said anything of the sort. The _Hawk_ referred to in that document is a
legal fiction--an illegal fiction some might call it. If you want to go
in for pigeon-plucking, you must provide the bird of prey," and Captain
Calamity chuckled grimly at his own facetiousness.
"Me! Provide a ship! Out of the question!" cried Mr. Solomon, backing
nervously from the table as though the mere suggestion alarmed him.
Calamity reached across the table and took from a box a big, fat,
Burmese cigar. This he proceeded to light, which done, he leaned back in
his chair and emitted huge clouds of smoke with obvious satisfaction.
"You must think of something else, Captain," went on his companion,
drawing still farther away from the table to escape being suffocated by
the Captain's smoke.
"Now see here," said Calamity, taking the cigar from his mouth and
speaking with great deliberation. "You're a clever business man; a
damned clever business man, or you wouldn't have kept out of jail all
these years. Well, here's a business proposition after your own heart.
You provide the ship and fit her out, and I'll provide the crew. Then,
within three months, I'll undertake to earn a bigger dividend for each
of us than you, with all your rascality, could make in a year. Doesn't
that tickle your palate, my friend?"
He paused and watched with a smile the obvious signs of perturbation on
his companion's face. It was clear to him that in the mind of Mr.
Solomon a terrific battle was in progress between exceeding avarice and
excessive caution.
"Vat security could you give?" asked the Jew at last. The struggle must
have been fierce, for he drew from his pocket a large, yellow silk
handkerchief and mopped the beads of perspiration from his face.
"Security!" echoed Calamity fiercely. "Why, the security of my name.
Have you ever known me break my word, Solomon? Is there, in the whole of
the Pacific to-day, a man living whom I've sworn to kill?"
Mr. Solomon started uneasily and edged towards the window as though to
be in readiness to call for help if necessary.
"But there aren't many enemy ships to capture now," he protested in a
feeble voice. "They have all been driven off the seas."
"I'll wager there are enough ships left to pay a healthy dividend on
your capital, Solomon. Besides, if the supply does run short we're not
dainty and----" He concluded his sentence with a grimly significant
laugh.
For some moments there was silence, broken only by the Captain's puffing
as he exhaled cloud after cloud of fierce tobacco-smoke. Mr. Solomon's
expressive countenance was again exhibiting signs of deep mental
agitation, and his brow was wrinkled by a perplexed frown. Suddenly this
cleared away and into his shifty eyes there came the triumphant look of
one who has unexpectedly found the solution to a seemingly impossible
problem. The change was so marked that Calamity regarded him with
undisguised suspicion, for when Solomon looked like that it generally
meant that somebody was going to be made wise by experience.
"I vill dink it over," he said at last.
A bland smile came over Calamity's face. He had not had intimate
business relations with his companion during the past ten years for
nothing, and knew that this was mere bluff, a sort of playful
coquettishness on Mr. Solomon's part. But he, also, was an old hand at
this game as his next remark proved.
"Please yourself," he answered indifferently, rising as if to go. "You
think it over as you say, and in the meantime I'll trip over to Johore
and see your pal Rossenbaum. He may be glad of the chance to----"
"Vait a minute! Vait a minute!" interrupted Mr. Solomon, starting to his
feet. "Vat you in such a 'urry for?"
In moments of excitement he was apt to drop the _h's_ which at other
times he assiduously cultivated.
"Well, you don't suppose I'm going to hang about Singapore and get drunk
on the local aperients while you make up your mind, do you?" inquired
Calamity.
"Now just you sit down, Captain, and ve'll talk the matter over," said
Mr. Solomon in a mollifying tone. "Make yourself at home now."
With an appearance of great reluctance, Captain Calamity reseated
himself and took another big, rank cigar from the box on the table.
"Go ahead," he said laconically as he lit the poisonous weed.
"Vat I propose," began Mr. Solomon, "is that you give me a bond...."
He continued for over half an hour to state his conditions, Calamity
never once interrupting him. When he had got through the Captain threw
the stump of his third cigar out of the window and drew his chair closer
to the table.
"Now you've used up your steam, and, I hope, feel better, we'll talk
business," he said in a cool, determined voice.
Two hours elapsed before Captain Calamity rose to his feet and prepared
for departure. It had been a tremendous battle, for Mr. Solomon's
demands had continued to be outrageous and he had resisted every
reduction tooth and nail. But they had at last come to an agreement,
though, even so, each felt that he was conceding far too much to the
other. The main points were, that Isaac Solomon was to procure a ship
and fit her out; that the profits of each privateering expedition were
to be divided into four equal shares, of which the partners each took
one. The remaining two shares were to be used for refitting,
victualling, bonuses for the crew, wages, and so forth. Mr. Solomon's
connection with the venture was to be kept secret from every one but his
partner, for, with a modesty that had its root in wisdom, the
ship-chandler avoided publicity as much as possible.
"I suppose you're going to wet the contract?" remarked Calamity as he
picked up his hat.
Mr. Solomon affected not to understand.
"Vet it?" he inquired innocently.
"Yes, drink to the prosperity of the venture, partner."
With no great show of alacrity, Mr. Solomon crossed to a cupboard and
was about to bring out a bottle of red wine, when Calamity stopped him.
"Damn you!" he cried. "I'm not going to drink that purple purgative;
save it for your fellow Sheenies. Come, out with that bottle of rum, you
old skinflint!"
Mr. Solomon made a chuckling noise in his throat, and, replacing the red
fluid, brought forth a square bottle and two glasses. He was about to
dole out a modest measure, when Calamity took the bottle from him and
more than half filled one of the glasses.
"Now help yourself, partner," he said, handing back the bottle.
The other carefully poured out about a teaspoonful of the spirit,
deluged it with water, and then held up his glass.
"Long life and success to Calamity and Co!" cried the Captain, and
tossed off the raw spirit with no more ado than if it had been milk.
"Calamity and Co!" echoed Mr. Solomon in a thin, shrill voice.