CAPTAIN JARROW ADMITS HE IS SUSPICIOUS OF PETH
Trask went to his room at once, and stripping off his wet pajamas,
dressed hurriedly. His discovery that Jarrow was missing seemed to
verify his suspicions that the captain was not playing fair. His
absence from his room was the most alarming thing which had
happened yet aboard the _Nuestra_, and, as Trask saw it, the fact
pointed to a betrayal of trust.
But the young man decided he would withhold any decision regarding
the captain until the latter had a chance to explain why the crew
should put off in a boat in the night, and why Jarrow was not in
his cabin. There might be a reason for it all which would be
perfectly plausible, if not convincing of the captain's good
intentions.
Doc came to the door of his room, and whispered: "Yo' all want the
lamp goin', Mr. Trask?"
"No," said Trask. "You go to bed and keep still." He felt that the
steward was inordinately curious about the visit to the captain's
room and why Trask was walking about outside.
"Cap'n Jarrow, he's gone for'ard," offered Doc, still standing in
the frame of the door, barely perceptible.
"Forward!" whispered Trask, surprised. This news meant one of two
explanations for what he had seen--the business was legitimate, and
under the direction of Jarrow, or Jarrow was involved with the crew
in whatever treachery was afoot.
"Yassir," continued Doc. "He's got all hands messin' 'round at
somethin'. I reckon the old man he looks for it to come on to
blow."
"I see," said Trask. "Well, I'm going out. Maybe I can be of some
help. Keep quiet, or you'll wake everybody up."
Doc withdrew from the door, and Trask heard him shuffling to his
own room, expressing some opinion in a whisper which Trask could
not make out, except that it was to the effect that he hadn't
started this "walkin' round like ha'nts in the middle of the
night."
Trask went on deck and moved forward boldly. The squall which had
passed left the air fresh and cool, and the sky was not so black,
although the schooner was still in gloom. But her bulwarks were
more clearly defined against the water, and Trask could see a
figure on the starboard bow which looked like a man standing and
peering in the direction of the island.
"Who's that?" came Jarrow's voice as Trask drew near. His voice was
low and cautious.
"Mr. Trask."
"Oh."
"Can't sleep," said Trask. "What's going on?"
"Storm wake ye up?"
"Not exactly. I've been wakeful since I went to my room."
"Guess we woke ye up."
"Well, I've heard considerable movement, and it made me curious."
"How long ye been out?"
"I was out when it first rained."
"Oh, then it was you!"
"I? I don't understand."
"Loafin' along the rail."
"Yes, I stood there for awhile."
"Thought you was one of the men soldierin' on the job."
"I saw a boat put off."
"Yes," said Jarrow, as if neither the boat nor the fact that Trask
had seen it was of any interest to him.
"What's up?" asked Trask.
Jarrow made no reply, but stepped off the forecastle head with a
noise of wet, swishing oilskins, and fumbled for a minute. Then the
lantern in the forestay bobbed down and up, and he came back to
where Trask stood.
Presently the captain struck a match, and twisted his head to one
side to light a cigar, his eyes peering at him over the flame.
"Didn't do much good to keep quiet so you could sleep," said
Jarrow, grinning into the flame. Then he puffed hard at the cigar.
"Naturally, I'm filled with expectation about the island," said
Trask. He knew Jarrow was none too cordial, and seemed bent on
showing disapproval of Trask's being abroad.
"You better git some sleep," said Jarrow.
"Do you look for bad weather?" asked Trask.
"Yes," said Jarrow, with sudden heartiness. "I look for anything in
these latitudes at this season. At ten o'clock the barometer showed
a disturbance of the diurnal range. It's below maximum."
"Typhoon?"
"Maybe. But I'm takin' no chances. I've got the crew out with a
kedge anchor, up in that channel behind the reef, to haul in there
if things look bad. Lie snug as a bug in a rug. That reef's a
natural breakwater."
"Then the boat took out a kedge?"
"Yes."
"Did Mr. Peth go, too?"
"Why, yes, Mr. Peth he's out there. He's got an anchor laid out in
the boat, to buoy it. He's sounding along inside the reef. We'll
take a hawser out in the mornin', but if the weather falls, we can
make fast right away. He'll run a heavin' line from the buoy so we
can find it in the dark. I take it you're satisfied, Mr. Trask?"
"Satisfied? Certainly." Trask was surprised at the sharpness and
obvious animus in Jarrow's question. His tone, despite the fact
that he spoke scarcely above a whisper, carried a sneer. Trask was
on the point of asking Jarrow if he had ever questioned his methods
of navigation or seamanship, but he held his tongue for it was no
time to precipitate a quarrel.
Trask suspected that Jarrow had overheard him in some remark about
the delay of the schooner getting up to the island, or had caught
disapproval in his manner that afternoon. It was natural enough for
a sailing master to resent the slightest implication that he was
not efficient, and Trask was not so much concerned with Jarrow's
hidden meaning on that score as with his covert acknowledgment that
he had been watchful of Trask's attitude. It was something to know
that Jarrow was keen enough to divine the fact that Trask was
secretly critical.
"I guess you thought we was slow in makin' anchorage," suggested
Jarrow.
This abruptness in reaching the very subject which Trask was
considering made him wary of the captain. It was plainly a bid for
an expression of Trask's ideas. Jarrow was angling for Trask's
opinion to learn whether he might be easily misled, or perhaps
ascertain if Trask's coming out to investigate now was part of his
general feeling that Jarrow was not to be trusted.
"Well, naturally," said Trask, after a moment's hesitation, "we
were anxious to get here as soon as possible, yet we realized that
you had to take precautions."
"Can't take no chances with this kind of a bottom," said Jarrow.
"Might be easy to git in through them coral patches, but I've got
to know how to git out, and how to git out under the worst
conditions. Some of them patches probably break with the least
little sea on. If I had to beat out against a head wind in the
dark, I don't want to pile up on breakers with----"
Jarrow stopped to listen. The sound of oars came to their ears off
toward the black shape of the island.
"You better git some sleep," said Jarrow.
"All right," said Trask. "Good-night, captain."
"Good-night, sir. And don't you be worried none about noises out
here. I'm a-lookin' after things."
"Did you think I was worried?" asked Trask, stopping.
This was apparently a poser for Jarrow, who took his cigar out of
his mouth, and was a full minute in framing a reply. Trask would
have given a good deal to see his face.
"I didn't take you that way," said Jarrow.
Trask went back beside him. The young man felt that it was a
mistake to allow Jarrow to dismiss him as he had, with the curt
suggestion that he go back to bed.
"Then I want to assure you," said Trask, speaking slowly and in a
tone intended to carry conviction of just how he felt, "that I'm
not the worrying kind, Captain Jarrow. And if Mr. Peth gets to
acting up, I'm prepared to deal with him myself."
"Oh, hush!" said Jarrow, in a low whisper. "We can't have any talk
like that for'ard here."
"I don't care who hears me," went on Trask, determined to carry out
his bluff. "I've been out on deck for quite a while, and to be
frank, I didn't like the idea of a boat going off this way. If it's
your plan to kedge, and you think it is necessary, all right. I'm
not a sailor. But I do know you haven't got Mr. Peth or the crew
very well in hand, so if----"
"Hush up, Mr. Trask, for God's sake!" implored Jarrow, stepping
over to Trask and putting his hand on his arm. "There is trouble
brewing, but I don't know what it's about. I'm holdin' things off
till the mornin'. I don't look for nothin' to come of it."
"Trouble? What sort of trouble?" demanded Trask, amazed at the
captain's revelation.
"I don't know," admitted Jarrow. "May be everythin' and nothin'.
It's that Peth's too thick with the crew, and it's bad when a mate
gits to standin' out with the fo'c's'le agin the master."
"Do you want me to understand that it's--mutiny?"
"I said I don't know what it is, Mr. Trask."
"How about Bevins? Is he in on it, too?"
"All hands. They're off there in the dinghy now, and I don't know
what they're up to."
"So you're not putting out a kedge?"
"No, sir. That was to git you back to your bunk. I was out on deck
before you was, and Peth sneaked the dinghy. I suppose they've got
some fool idea that there's a lot of gold on the island, and----"
Jarrow broke off and said no more. Trask thought he had heard
something and waited for him to go on, but after a long pause the
captain did not seem inclined to say anything more, but took long
pulls on his cigar, which he kept shaded from the sea behind his
hand.
Trask's mind worked rapidly. If anything, the truth from Jarrow
that there was danger from Peth and the crew had steadied him, and
while he realized his helpless position if Jarrow were deceiving
him, he at least had proof of a desperate situation aboard the
schooner.
"What do you think they would do if they found gold on the island,
captain?"
"Don't ask me. Might come back and burn the _Nuestra_."
"Sounds interesting," said Trask.
"Mebbe you think I'm jokin' of you?" said Jarrow.
"Not at all. I wouldn't put murder beyond that lot. There's
something I've wanted to tell you since we left Manila, but I
didn't want to do anybody an injustice."
"What's that?"
"Somebody stole one of my automatic pistols before I'd been aboard
a quarter of an hour."
"No!"
"Yes. It was taken from my bag in my room."
"Mighty Nelson! You should ha' told me, Mr. Trask! Who do ye think
got it?"
"I've every reason to suspect Mr. Peth. It was missing right after
he moved his stuff out of my room. The bag had been opened and
closed again very carefully, strapped and buckled. The man who took
it had plenty of time and wanted to make sure he wasn't suspected
right away. At least, he didn't want the loss noticed at once."
"So Mr. Peth's got an automatic gun, eh?" said Jarrow, rather in a
musing way, and drawing a deep breath.
"I might not have missed it for days," went on Trask, "but I had
two, and----"
"Two!"
"I had a pair of them."
"And Peth got away with both of 'em!"
"No, only one. I have the other, and Mr. Locke has two. I went down
to oil mine after Peth moved out, and found one gone when----"
"Then we're all right," said Jarrow. "If you and Mr. Locke brought
guns we don't need to worry. I've got a couple, myself. I guess we
can handle anything that carries away for'ard here."
"Why did you move the lantern?" demanded Trask.
"Oh," said Jarrow, "I had a mind to take it down so they couldn't
find their way back to the schooner till mornin' unless it cleared
up in good shape. But it won't clear. Smells like more rain."
"I think it's a good scheme," said Trask. "Let 'em stay off in the
boat. Then we'll put Peth in irons when he comes aboard in the
morning if we think he's been up to mischief, or plans trouble. We
can handle the others. We can't take any chances with Miss Locke
aboard."
"You're right!" said Jarrow. "I'll douse the glim and let 'em stay.
If they want to cut up any didoes we can work the _Nuestra_ back to
Manila ourselves and the government'll take care of 'em for us."
Jarrow clumped down off the forecastle head and lowered the
lantern, clapped his sou'wester over it, and snuffed the flame out
between his fingers. Trask observed the grimness of his face as the
light played on it during the brief instant the lantern was coming
down and the determined set of his jaw as his teeth gripped the
cigar.
They stood in the darkness, silent for a few minutes, listening,
and caught again the rattle of oars in locks at quite a distance.
The boat seemed to be moving about cautiously, feeling its way in
behind the reef.
"I can't make out what the devil they're up to," said Jarrow in a
grumbling sort of whisper. "Peth never did have much sense.
Sometimes I've thought he was clean out of his head."
"Then you've had doubts about him since we left Manila?"
"No, can't say's I have. I don't pay no attention to his tantrums
gene'lly. He's up and he's down, just how he feels. But he picked
this crew from a lot of his old shipmates so they'll stand by him
if he's set on makin' trouble, and he knows it. I didn't like the
looks of things to-day, so I kept my weather eye peeled. He lowered
the dinghy on his own, without sayin' a word to me, and I smelled a
rat, so I kept watch. I didn't want to git you folks scared up, so
when you come out I thought I'd pass it off and wait to see what
their game was. I wouldn't say nothin' to Mr. Locke 'bout it, and
I'll see what's to be done come daylight."
"Do you think they'll make a fight if you don't let 'em aboard?"
"Wouldn't do no good if they did. We can keep 'em off, now that you
and Mr. Locke have guns. They can't live on air. You ought to try
to git some sleep."
"I'll stick it out with you."
"Ain't no use of us two standin' watch all night. You'll be all
beat out to-morrow night, and with things like they are, you won't
git no chance to sleep to-morrow. If they come back, I'll call you
in time to have the weather on 'em."
Jarrow's advice sounded sensible enough. With the crew out in a
boat there was little imminent danger, and Trask felt that it would
be wise to remain aft, for if the crew suspected their game was
known they might attempt to board the schooner from the stern. They
would probably interpret the disappearance of the riding light as
discovery aboard the schooner that they were missed and their
treachery revealed to the heads of the expedition.
So Trask decided to go back to his room, even if he did not sleep,
and being assured by Jarrow that immediately there was any sign of
the boat he would be called, he made his way aft and went to bed
fully dressed except for his shoes.
He had scarcely rolled into his bunk before he heard cautious
footsteps in the cabin, and Doc Bird came scratching at his door.
"I reckon somethin's powerful wrong, Mr. Trask," he whispered.
"You get out of here and go to bed," said Trask. "And don't show a
light for any reason until you have orders to."
"I got to be up early to make flapjack batter fo' yo' all," was
Doc's reply. "I reckon I'll have to have a light in the galley and
the fire goin' right smart long befo' the chickens is crowin' fo'
day."
Trask knew it would do no good to get out of patience with Doc, for
he was incorrigibly persistent and friendly in the face of any
rebuff.
"Don't make any fire or light any lamps until you're told to,"
Trask reiterated. "And for heaven's sake, let me and everybody else
get some sleep. Get some for yourself. Run along."
"Oh, don't yo' fret none fo' me, Mr. Trask. I'm a regular squinch
owl," and he chuckled audibly, as if his ability to do without
sleep were a rare joke.
"I'm not," retorted Trask, and rolled over significantly.
"You don't reckon Mr. Peth he's actin' up none, do ye? The skipper
he goes walkin' 'round like he had somethin' wearin' down on his
mind."
"You better ask him, Doc," said Trask.
"Huh! Ketch me goin' out and confabbin' around with the ol' man!
He'd shore hang somethin' on mah haid. Mr. Trask, 'fo' God, I can't
git no sleep when I'm a-worried. It all kind o' makes my skin go
all crawly when there's somethin' projectin' around and I don't
know of it. Yo' shore there ain't nothin' bad nohow?"
"There will be, if you don't get out of that door! Go bring some
water."
Doc gurgled with a suppressed chuckle, and went to the galley,
where he could be heard pulling a cork in the dark. He was back in
a minute, and handed a glass in to Trask, who sat up to take it and
drink.
"If somebody hadn't a-swiped that gun o' yourn, I would take no
bother of it if Mr. Peth gits contrary with----"
"I've got another gun," said Trask. "And Mr. Locke has two."
Doc was silent for a time, as if he were pondering the matter.
"Yo' all shore come a-lookin' for b'ar," he opined, taking the
glass which Trask thrust out at him. "But yo' all don't need to be
squirmish about Mr. Peth. If he goes to act up, I'll settle his
hash."
"How's that?"
Doc chuckled again.
"I know how to handle that low-down trash," he whispered,
tragically. "I'd drap somethin' in his tea. Good-night, Mr. Trask."
"Good-night, Doc. Don't make a light."
"No, sah," and the steward crept away to his bunk, leaving Trask
staring up into the dark, turning over the situation in his mind,
and waiting for the dawn.