A week later theEnoswas steaming over the calm and beautiful Caribbean. The sky was a tropical blue dotted with the lumpy trade clouds, and the sea was that beautiful tint only seen during perfect weather. She was running along smoothly down past the Quita-suena Bank, between it and the Serrano Cays, and so far all had gone well. Jones had proved an agent worthy of Mr. Booker's best expectations. He had managed to get together three hundred and ten strapping fellows who were destined to dig for the good of maritime commerce, and he had held out inducements which, while models of veracity, were also works of art. He had made even the most sordid details of life upon the Isthmus appear in the garb of most attractive romance, and money—why, money was the thing the Canal cared less for than anything in the world. Three hundred and ten men were destined to be rich in this world's goods. He had convinced even the most skeptical of this, and the only thing that kept the rest of the population upon the Cayman was the size of theEnos. He wished to ship five hundred, but James was sturdy enough to stop him. Under the influence of six copious drinks of rum and cola, he had managed to put up a determined opposition. He finally threatened to go ashore and get very drunk if another man was sent him, and Jones knowing him to be quite capable of keeping his word in this respect, desisted at three hundred and ten.
"You fat sea-scutt, I'd fry the grease out o' you if I could get another man to take the ship," said Jones in a fury. "I get a dollar a head for those niggers, an' you've done me to the tune of two hundred—but you can bet I won't forget you, you lobster, you blamed fat lobster—"
Captain James contented himself with calling the agent every name he could remember that carried disgrace or disrespect along with it, and after that stood upon the bridge storming and fuming, every now and then bursting forth when some new and especially choice adjective happened to reach his memory.
By the time theEnosreached the vicinity of Quita-suena Bank, the skipper had cooled both mentally and physically, the evaporation of the rum with which he supplied himself producing a revivifying effect only to be appreciated by one who is addicted to rum and cola. His wrath had subsided until he scarcely mumbled his disdain for the energetic Jones, and his face,always red and swollen from both the fierce sunshine and his diet, now took on a more natural hue.
"Let her go well to the westward of the Roncador," said he to McDuff as the mate came on the bridge that evening. "The current is very strong, and I ain't quite certain of the rate of our chronometer. Got a jolt last voyage and seems to be going wrong ever since. Get your lights burning brightly to-night—there'll be some ships passing and there's no use saving five cents' worth of oil for that buzzard, Booker—and tell the chief to hustle her along, toss in the coals, and if the second is drunk, turn the hose on him, for we'll have to drive her through. The niggers will have to go below at eight bells; can't have 'em lying about the deck all night getting in the way. It's cool enough with the blowers on—keep 'em turned to the wind, that's your business. South five east by Standard, and that'll be about south two by the binnacle—keep your eye peeled. That's all."
Captain James retired to his room while theEnosrolled slowly down the Caribbean, dipping her gray sides alternately into the smooth sea which rolled lazily. The gathering darkness still showed the forms of many big coloured men lying upon the now silent deck, but when eight bells struck off they were told to go below, and after that the deck was deserted save by the men of the watch.
Below in the 'tween-decks, where the banana racks had been removed, the islanders were grouped in hot and uncomfortable groups. The blowers made ventilation sufficient, but the air was warm and the odour from three hundred hot bodies made it far from pleasant. The bo'sn who had herded the crowd below stood near the hatchway in conversation with a huge islander.
"Yes, I know it's yo' orders, but I don't see why the captain makes us stay below. I am a sailor man, sare, and I will not be in the way if yo' let me go on deck for the night," said the negro.
"I ain't got nothin' to do with it," answered the bo'sn, "my orders is you stay here below—an' here you stays."
"But if I give you my word as a sailor man to help on deck, don' yo' think yo' can allow me?" persisted the giant good-naturedly. "Look at me, sare, I very warm." And he showed his bare chest running water.
"Aw, you niggers ain't satisfied wid anything," said the bo'sn impatiently. "You'll get to a hotter place 'n this before you leave Panama. Get your crowd to sleep, fer I'm goin' to fasten the hatch—there's water a-plenty in them barrels, you kin drink all you want, an' if you get short holler for the second to start the donkey an' pump some more in."
"Very well, I reckon I must do as yo' say," and the giant negro settled himself among his followers, who gradually made the best of circumstances and went to sleep.
Midnight found theEnosploughing along over the smooth swell, a bright moon shining upon the seaand making it almost as light as day. McDuff on the bridge walked to and fro trying to keep awake, while the hiss and tinkle of the side-wash was the only sound that broke the stillness. The slight vibrations from the worn-out engines barely reached the forward part of the ship, and only the low noise of the foam told of the ship's headway. She might almost have been at anchor, rolling slowly from side to side as she took the long easy swell upon her beam. The chief mate was warm and dry. He had been without liquid refreshment for nearly four hours, and he saw a long vista ahead of him into which the nose of the old ship pointed. He speculated a few moments. He might go below for a drink, for there was nothing in sight, and although it was against even the orders of James to drink while on duty, there was no reason to suppose any one would be the wiser should he do so. He went down the steps from the bridge and entered his room, pouring forth from a bottle a good, nifty drink, and fizzing it well up with the sparkling cola—ah, was there ever such refreshment anywhere else in the world—what was that? Hark,—a jolt ran through the ship, a slight jar, causing her to tremble. It seemed to McDuff as if the engines stopped for a few moments—but no, they were going again, for he could feel the vibration. He hurried on deck.
When he reached the bridge he looked about the horizon, and for a few minutes saw nothing save the dim line where the night met the sea. Then he gradually took in an outline close aboard to port. It waswhite, and while he gazed he heard the low snore of the surf of the Roncador. Almost instantly the chief engineer called up from below through the tube.
"What's wrong?" he asked. "Seemed to hit something an' knock the engine out a bit, but she's goin' all right now—if there's anything wrong let's have it."
"Nothin' the matter I know of—port, hard a port," he whispered to the man at the wheel—"nothing wrong here," he went on to the chief, speaking through the tube. "If the engine is all right let her go, ram the coal into her and wake her up." Then to the man at the wheel—"Steady, steady as she goes—how does she head now?"
"Sout' b' west, half west, sur," said the sleepy helmsman.
Five minutes later the chief called up the tube.
"Water comin' in by the jump—must have hit something—started both pumps, but she'll be over the fire-room floor in ten minutes—for God's sake tell me what has happened."
McDuff stood petrified, irresolute. Then he drew a deep breath and looked out over the sea and the ship. All was quiet, there was no sign of panic or trouble below. Gazing aft he saw the two small boats in their chocks with their canvas covers, and while he looked he knew it would be but a few moments before the struggle to take possession of them would begin. Three hundred and thirty men, or all hands, including the extra messmen, would have to take tothe boats, which would hold at the most but forty of them. Nearly three hundred were doomed. Before dawn they would be in the sea unless he ran theEnosupon the bank. But he could not do this without calling the captain. It was his ship, or rather his command, and he knew his duty. He went quickly to the master's room.
"What, hit the Roncador? How the—" but James was enough of a seaman to spring on deck without wasting words. He was a bit groggy, but the sight of the quiet ship steadied him. There was nothing to fear just yet. He rang off the engines and the dull boom of the gong sounded strangely loud through the quiet night, reverberating through the hull and making those awake curious.
"For God's sake don't waste any time. Call the chief and second from below—let 'em keep the pumps going, but we must get those small boats over and away before the niggers get wind of what is happening. Lord, if they knew we'd be goners—quick, get the watch quietly and lower away."
"But ain't we going to run her ashore, sir?" asked McDuff.
"Lord, yes, we'll start her fair for the surf, but we must get away if we want to live. She won't hold together half an hour, an' we'll be a good mile from solid land—man, man, hurry for your life—those niggers will take charge of everything—hurry—"
McDuff needed little urging. He called the watch quietly while the captain spoke down the tube to thechief, telling him to get his crowd up as quickly as he could. In less than two minutes men were working like mad in the moonlight. Straps were cut and lashings cut, while the low fierce oaths and half-whispered threats of the frantic men told of their furious haste. The selfish brute was in supreme control, and it showed in each strained face and trembling hand. The fire-crew came tumbling from below, cursing each other as they came out of the hatches, some vowing to take the lives of those who obstructed their path, all panting, gasping, rushing about with the wild panic of men who are suddenly forced to face their end. James swore fiercely at them and struck right and left with a belaying-pin, threatening, begging them not to alarm the cargo. It was their only chance.
The boats dropped noiselessly over the side, the men sliding down the tackles, clambering down along the lines, all getting into them as quickly as possible. The half-naked fire-crew with their bare bodies shoved and pushed for places, and if there had been even a little sea on they would have swamped the small craft.
James had run to the bridge intending to point the vessel for the edge of the reef. He ran the wheel over, but at that moment the second engineer, who had been told to start the ship ahead, not understanding, or caring for the cargo, shut off steam and climbed over the side into the boat below him. There was nothing for the captain to do but go or be left behind, and he hesitated not an instant, but followed the second over the side just as the men were pushing off. They rowed rapidly away from the horrible vicinity, heading due west. Few cared even to look back at what they felt must become a scene of slaughter, and only now and then did some conscience-smitten seaman fix his eyes upon the hull which now rolled silently upon the sea.
By daylight the boat in charge of McDuff sighted the liner bound for Colon, and in a few moments their hail was answered. Signals were made and within an hour the entire outfit was aboard the big ship and heading for their port of destination.
It was a terrible tale the men told, a tale of a foundering ship which had sprung a leak—how the crowd of negroes had fought for the boats and how the crew, after desperate efforts, had driven them back. There were many little deficiencies in the tales which their kind-hearted rescuers essayed to fill, allowing that the stress and excitement had made the imaginations of many quite acute. James landed the second day afterwards and reported his vessel lost in mid-ocean, having suddenly sprung a leak which all efforts failed to stop. She was somewhere in the vicinity of the Roncador Bank.
Two days later, while he was standing upon the clock at Colon waiting for passage on the steamer to Kingston, he noticed a strange-looking ship coming into the harbour. She was lying on one side until her deck was awash and she was slowly steaming at the rate of about four knots an hour. Deep she was inthe water, so deep that her plimsoll mark was several feet under, but she was working slowly in. Upon her decks were a crowd of negroes. As the ship drew near he noticed a huge black fellow upon the bridge who walked athwart-ships with a determined stride. The ship was theEnos, there was no mistake about it, his ship afloat and coming to dock, and the man who walked the bridge and commanded her was the giant islander, the foreman of the working gang.
"Yes, Ah'm a sailor man," said the good-natured giant an hour later, after the tugs had gotten to work pumping the flooded bilge. "Ah'm a sailor man, an' I brought the Captain James his vessel. I sho'd like to know if he is still alive, fo' I've reason to think he must hab been lost in de small boats—has yo' heard anything about him? Yo' kin tell him Bahama Bill would like to see him!"
"Yes, he's here all right," announced the inspector.
"Well, I'd like to have a minute's talk with him, just a moment's little talk," said the man gently in his musical voice.
"I'll send for him at once," said the official, "but how did you save the ship? He said she foundered."
"Ah, yes, it was a small matter, a matter of a mattress and some lines—we drew it over the side and under the bilge whar she hit the edge of de Roncador—oh, yes, it soon stopped and wid the pumps we kep' her goin', hundreds of us, sare, passin' the water over the side in barrels and buckets,—yo'think I kin see de captain soon,—Ah'm very anxious toe speak with him; I sho' is—yo' reckon I kin?"
Before the ship was properly docked the steamer for Kingston had pulled out, and upon her decks a crowd of men gazed at the strange vessel which had just come in. Captain James and McDuff stood side by side at the rail, and as the ship passed they noticed the giant black man coming forth from the pilot-house of theEnos. He gazed at them long and intently.
"Come, it's all over with us," said McDuff sullenly, "let's go get a drink."
The islander stood long in the sunshine, shading his eyes with his hand, until the steamer was a mere speck out at sea.
"I sho'd like to hab spoken to Captain James," he said to an agent who had come to see him about the men to work on the Canal. "Yes, I sho' feel that he missed somethin'—My name is Bahama Bill."
"Well, well, never mind him now. Let's get down to business. Let's see what we can do with this gang. He'll be back after he has seen his owners and straightened out this affair. He says you acted pretty rough about trying to take his boats and he had to drive you off. He'll be back all right an' you can talk with him—"
"No, he will never come back. No sah. I shall miss dat little talk with him, but—well, as you say, I'll check off the cargo of men, they're all good fellows every one. Come—"
"They're a good gang," said the agent to the engineer of the local work that afternoon; "they're as good a set of men as we'll get. Lazy? Of course they're lazy, did you ever see a black man who wasn't lazy? Fight? No, they're not much on a fight, but I believe there is one fellow, the foreman, a Fortune Islander, who is set upon killing—he has a way of asking after a fellow, the captain of the ship that brought 'em here, that makes me a bit nervous, he's so blamed gentle and insistent about seein' him—but he never will, so what's the difference. I'll turn 'em to in the morning."
XV
The Wrecker
Onthe edge of the Great Bahama, near the turn of the Caicos bank, the hull of theStella Polarelay high on the coral reef. She was a passenger steamer, and had made the run many times between Havana and the Mediterranean ports. She had run with an easy company, and many passengers had changed their countries in her; for she had been a crack packet in her day; and her day had passed, joining the vast host in limitless time.
From a distance the black hull loomed large and sinister, a long iron mass standing out clearly in the surrounding whiteness of coral and foam. Closer observation showed the rusty plates, the paintless cabin houses, and the weather-worn woodwork that still remained. Her two rakish funnels stood slantwise, holding their places by the aid of rusty guys, the chains and all valuable metal work having long ago been stripped from her. And so she lay as theBuccaneer, a wrecking schooner from Nassau, came slowly across the bank.
The rays of the setting sun shone strongly upon the iron hull, and the crew of the schooner gazed at herfrom various positions of ease and lassitude; for the day had been hot and sultry and the air filled with a brassy coloured humidity that was as thick as a heavy haze on the horizon. The master of the wrecker was an American named Sanders, formerly master of theSea-Horse, and his mate was William Haskins, known as "Bahama Bill." He was a good-looking fellow, bronzed and fine featured, and his black hair was streaked with gray. Heavy lines in his face suggested suffering rather than exposure, although his vocation was rigorous enough.
The master had gazed for fully a quarter of an hour at the wreck as the vessel fanned along before the light breeze, when his mate addressed him.
"Shall we get the gear ready, cap? I got a box ob Atlas powder and twenty fathom of fuse with exploders. Dat's enough, hey?"
"Yes, get what you need in the small boat," said the master absently. "You can haul down the jib and let go when you're ready. Give her not more than four fathoms; for we won't stay here long—looks like it's coming on bad, and the glass is falling. The bank isn't safe this time of year. We ought to get into some pocket and tie up." The master spoke absently, still gazing at the wreck, and the mate noted it.
"She shuah don' look much like what she do when yo' had her, Cap," said Bahama Bill.
"What, theStella Polare?"
"Yes, sare, an' it warn't so long ago neither. Afew years on de reef make a lot o' difference in her. Seems like yesterday you run her into Havana fer de last voyage in de old charter. It shuah do, Cap."
"When you're ready with the small boat I'll go with you," said the Captain, still gazing at the black hull.
Anchoring with the fore and mainsails still up, the small boat went slowly into the bay. There was little or no surf on the lee of the bank, and the party landed without difficulty. Then they began carrying their outfit to the wreck. They would break her up, stripping the plates from her sides for old iron and tearing apart the most valuable portion of her engines to sell at Key West. It was a job that the men who had been there before them had declined as unprofitable, for it required considerable work to strip the plates, and the engines were well rusted in the half-submerged hull. At high water there was little of value uncovered in her hold; but the wrecking crew had not been successful that season, and it was a case of getting what they could. Wrecks had been few, and the sponging industry, which all wreckers of the bank usually follow during the summer and hurricane season, had paid small returns. Dynamite was expensive to use; but it was just as well to explode a part of it as to have it spoil on their hands. They could still keep enough for a few loads of fish, for the law of the reef and bank was never enforced in regard to high explosives, and they were far away from any prying eyes.
The crew carried sledges and hydraulic jacks, with a spare tackle or two, and the mate carried the explosive. They reached the high side where the dry sand had banked against it, and one by one mounted to the deck, the Captain going aft, still gazing at the old hulk in an absent manner. She was a long ship, and he walked the entire length of her deck until he reached the taffrail. Then he turned and looked at the cabin house. His mind was far away from the work he intended. He saw that deck as it had been in the days gone by, the days of his youth, and as he looked a strange feeling of loneliness came upon him.
The deck was there before him, and upon it he saw the faces of the people who had walked or sat upon it. Even a blistered bit of paint on the deck-house recalled a certain day in the time gone when he sat there with the one woman he had lived for, the wife of his youth. A soft voice called to him and spoke the words he remembered so well. He almost started, and a choking feeling came in his throat. Yes, he had sat near that particular spot many times and listened to that voice; now still, but which seemed to call again. There were the stitches in the canvas deck covering she used to rub with her foot while talking, sitting there as they used to do in the old days when the company allowed him to take his wife with him on the run across. The deck seemed to slant away and roll from side to side, and he balanced himself to meet the roll of the ship. The stillness about himwas unbroken save by the distant murmur of the sea and the low voices of the men waiting forward for the work to begin; but he heard nothing save the voice of the past.
He went into the deck-house. There was the old settee, now without the red upholstered cushions. He remembered how many times he had sat there in the evenings after the voyage was run, and how for years they had chatted under the light of the saloon lamp when the passengers had all gone ashore and the ship was deserted by all save the crew. About him were the signs of wreck and ruin, and he stood for some minutes gazing about the cabin. A woman's shoe lay mouldy and green upon the floor near a stateroom door, and it brought a dull pain in his heart as he noted it. The owner was dead, long dead, probably lost in the hurricane when the vessel went into her last resting-place. Far away in Nassau was a mound, grass grown and storm swept, the resting-place of the one who had made life worth living for him. Soon the sand would bank up and cover the old hull, and the long beach grass would grow over it, blotting out all.
He looked into a deserted room. The door was broken and hung slantwise upon its one rusty hinge. Then he stepped softly back into the middle of the saloon and listened. A thousand little things brought back memories, and he raised his head. "Oh, God! the loneliness of it all!" he cried.
In the stillness he thought he heard the laughter ofa woman's voice. No, it was the sobbing, and he started. A land crab scuttled across the floor of the cabin, making a disagreeable rattling as it went. In the ghastly stillness of the lost ship a thousand sounds seemed to fall upon his listening ears. He saw the table set and the people sitting about it, the stewards getting the dinner, and the old questions asked him of the day's run; but foremost and always was the form of one woman whose bright smile welcomed him from the table end. He stole forward and went into his room, the Captain's room of the liner. The wreck and confusion here were even greater than aft; but he saw nothing now save the time when they used to sit there, she sewing upon some piece of woman's work and he poring over the chart which held his course.
His heart seemed bursting. The ghastly wreck was awful,—it was the wreck of his hopes,—and he bowed his head and covered his face with his hands as he sat upon the edge of the bunk. The light was fading; but he failed to note it. Fifteen, twenty, thirty minutes he sat there, and the mate, who had returned with the rest of the gear left in the boat, was searching for him. The sun sank below the sea before that officer broke into the room and saw him sitting there.
"It's dun gitting too late toe do enny mo' this evenin', Cap," said he with a tone of complaint.
"All right. Go aboard, I'll stay here awhile," said Sanders.
There was something in the seaman's face that caused the big mate to forget his temper at the delay.
"De men want dere grub, sare," he said quietly, "but I reckon I ken wait. Shall I send de boat in fo' yo', sare?"
"Good Lord! let me alone!" he cried. "Go! Leave a boat for me. I'll row out aboard myself when I'm ready."
The mate went forward, and the men followed him in the small boat. They went aboard the schooner for the evening meal, and afterward turned in for the night. A small boat was towed in by a man in the craft they had used, and it was left upon the sand.
Comment was made forward at the Captain's absence. No one understood. Even the mate, who had an idea, did not think it of enough real importance to dwell upon it; and so the tropic night fell over the reef, the haze deepened, and the darkness grew intense.
In the dull, heated quiet of the early night the Captain sat upon the ship's rail. He could not stand the oppressive stillness of the blackness in the cabin. The outline of the surf upon the sea side of the wreck shone in a line of phosphorus, but the dull glare failed to outline the vast bulk of the hull. The wind had all died away and the warmth of the air was felt, being heavy with a moisture and sultriness that bespoke of a falling glass. But he sat and wandered through the memories of a past life which was all themore bitter because of the happiness that would never return.
"She will never come back—never!" he whispered into the void about him. "I'm so tired—tired of it all!" and he groaned aloud in his anguish. He would not break up the ship. In the morning he would find some excuse to tell the mate and crew. He could not tell them the real one. They would not understand. How could they—poor devils? What had they known of life, life as he had known it? No, he would weigh his anchor and sail away over the tropic seas to live out his existence as Fate had demanded of him. He might kill himself; but there were others dependent upon him for a living, and he would not do a cowardly thing, would not cause them suffering to alleviate his own. He must live on—just on and on to help the few who trusted in his strength to provide for them. It was no pleasure save to ease their burden. It would be to-morrow—and to-morrow—and to-morrow—a broken life of unending work and hardship.
"God grant I'll not have to make it too long! Let me go to a long—a long, an unending rest! I want to sleep, to sleep for ever; for I'm tired out!"
His voice was deep and vibrant; but it fell upon the empty air, and he more than ever noted the silence. He gazed to the southward. There was nothing upon the dark sea. To the eastward it seemed a little blacker; but over the desolate ocean there came no sound of even a breaking wave top. For several hourshe sat there gazing out into the blackness, and then sometimes watching the riding light of his vessel as it flickered upon the oily sea. All was quiet upon the schooner. The tired men were sleeping, for they expected heavy work on the morrow.
A low murmur came from the sea. It seemed to come from some distant point, and rose and fell faintly. Then a flash of lightning lit the inky darkness to the southeast. He waited to hear the following thunder; but none came. Minutes afterward the murmur rose again.
In the sultry air even his breathing oppressed him, and he turned to fix his limbs in a more comfortable posture. He sat easily now and waited. Over the sea from the southeast came a low rushing sound, the sound of a mighty wind, and as he gazed toward it he felt the first puff in his face. The noise of the surf on the outside of the bank grew louder. A spurt of sand whistled up against the steel side beneath him. Then came a fiercer blast, and the storm burst over the reef with a wild, swirling roar of wind and rain.
He stood up and faced it. It relieved his feelings, this fury of the elements, and he seemed to be again upon his ship at sea facing the hurricane of the West Indies. The dry sand of the upper bank struck the sides of the wreck with great force, and flying over it cut his face so that he could not see any longer. He made his way to the lee of the deck-house and looked out over the water to see how his vessel stood the strain. The riding light was still showing in the sameplace; but a faint rattling told plainly that both anchors were now on the bottom, and that the mate, with the instinct of the true sailor, was giving them chain as fast as he could, with the hope of holding on. How it blew! The wind came in fierce gusts, rushing, tearing, over the lost ship.
The sails of the anchored schooner had been lowered just after dark. He had heard the creaking of the halliards. There would be no great sea where she lay, but enough to test the strength of the ground tackle she possessed. He wished vaguely that he had gone aboard. It was the place for him, upon the deck of his ship.
He watched the riding light for some minutes. It was jumping now with the rise and fall of the schooner. It was a desperate undertaking to row a small boat out to her; but the struggle appealed to him strongly. He should have gone aboard. He would go, and let himself down over the side of the wreck, with no concern save for the safety of the schooner and the crew aboard her. If he failed to make her, it was of no particular matter.
The small boat was made fast on the shore, and he reached her easily. The oars were in her, and she was all ready to row out, for the inside of the bank was partly sheltered, and there was no sea there yet. It would be a row across the wind with it a little astern, and he was a strong man. The wildness of the night seemed to stir something within him, and he grasped the oars eagerly for the struggle. He sentthe small boat's head out into the night and across that hurricane swept reef with a feeling of something akin to exhilaration. A blast of wind flung a sea over her, and the salt sea flew in his face, taking his breath for the instant; but he spat out the brine and drove the boat ahead.
The riding light appeared to get nearer. He was making good headway, although the water was flying over the boat and tossing her about like a cork. All around and about him the sea was white with a phosphorescent light from the breaking seas; but it failed to outline the hull of his vessel. He headed for the riding light, and he must make it, or—
He turned his head now and again to keep the course. The light did not draw closer very fast, and he knew he was rowing furiously. Then he noticed that it drew more and more to leeward. He was rowing with the wind now well aft. He knew what it meant: that his vessel was dragging her anchors and that there was little or no hope that he would board her. She might strike, or she might make the open sea. The mate was an able seaman and would get some canvas on her if he could to try to fight her off. Out on the wild, storm-swept ocean there might be safety. To leeward lay certain death.
He rowed now with increased vigour. He would endeavour to get close enough to hail her at least, even though he could not board her. Over the tops of the breaking seas the small boat fairly flew. She was gaining upon the receding light. The Captain turnedhis head and saw he was almost alongside. He made out the voices of the men calling to each other as they close reefed the mainsail. He could hear the mate's orders, howled into a shriek, sounding faintly but unintelligible above the roar of the wind and sea. He now made out the hull of the vessel. He was close aboard. Then the riding light went out.
He knew he had seen the ending; for they had put the forestaysail on her and were driving her out to sea. As for himself, he was a lost man. He was so close to her now that he stood up and hailed.
"Keep her east southeast!" he roared out.
A questioning hail came through the night, a wild, terrified cry.
"Keep her east southeast! Good-bye!" he answered.
"Ay, ay, sir! Good-bye, sir!" came the voice of the mate booming hoarsely above the gale.
TheBuccaneerfought her way out that night. She lost her foresail and half her other canvas before the finish; but she went to sea safely.
Three days later she came in and anchored near the wreck of the steamer. The mate and two men went ashore and searched the reef for signs of their Captain. The boat was gone, and so was he. This told the story. Two hours later they were tearing up the rusted hulk of theStella Polare, and they carried tons of her to Key West in the little schooner, with the mate in command.
XVI
The Barrators
Mr. Booker,of the firm of Booker, Benson & Co., closed the door of the inner office.
"Now, Captain Johns, let's have an understanding at once," said he in a low tone, "let's make no mistake about this thing. You know we represent the best there is in the shipping business. You know I've stood by you. You know how long you'd have been inspector of hulls if I hadn't fixed it for you with the commissioner. Now, we want James's certificate returned. He's been master of theEnosfor years, and we can't afford to lose him——"
"But he abandoned his ship in mid-ocean with passengers aboard," snapped Captain Johns. "How can we give him a certificate after that, hey? How'll I get around the fact—— What? I know what I owe you. I know I'm inspector, but I don't owe you any such rascality as that—no, sir. I'll lose my place if I do give it to him—you know that—and if I don't you threaten me——"
"I threaten no man," interrupted Mr. Booker solemnly. "I simply put it to you as a business proposition. Captain James is our man. We want him. Now will you give him back his certificate or not?"
The inspector thought a minute. He was a big man, big, strong, capable of filling the office of inspector of hulls perfectly. He had been to sea for more than twenty years and was a first-class navigator, a first-class seaman. He knew the duties of inspector, and he knew the law. Upon him rested the responsibility of issuing masters' and mates' certificates, and he had generally conducted the examinations without fear or favour. He prided himself upon this point, for it was generally understood that a Board of Trade license was good. It meant something. But he knew Mr. Booker and he knew his man, Captain James, who had abandoned his vessel in mid-ocean.
"As far as the taking his license away from him is concerned," said he, looking straight at the head of the firm, "I had no more to do with it than others. We did the only thing we could do under the evidence." He seated himself in a chair and crossed a leg, rubbing his knee as though to gain time for the struggle he knew would take place. Mr. Booker was a leading shipper and also a politician of note. It was he who had swung the party, he who had practically made the inspectors. It would not do to act hastily. Booker was an able and deadly foe to any one who blocked his trade. He was unscrupulous when it came to acting against an enemy of the firm.
"I don't want to tie your vessel up," he went on, "and if I can do anything in reason I'll do it. Why not let the mate come up? There's nothing that can'tbe argued away about him. He had to obey orders. I'll give him a ticket all right."
A strange light shone in Mr. Booker's eyes. He saw his man was weakening. It was what he wanted, this mate's ticket, but to state it openly would have meant ruin to his scheme. He held out strongly for his captain, but not strong enough to carry his point. If the inspector chose to promote his mate, it was not Mr. Booker's fault. That would lie entirely and healthily with others. After a futile struggle lasting half an hour he gave in.
"Very well, then. If you'll give Mr. McDuff a master's license and let him take theEnosout, it'll have to go. I don't stand for him, you know, and I want that distinctly understood. But I'll compromise on that—and not a little bit less. You know what she's carrying?"
The inspector did not. It was not his business to keep track of all cargoes before they were shipped. He felt irritated. His victory had at first seemed a good thing, a fine thing to get out of the hole yawning before him. Now there seemed to be some complications.
"It's dynamite," went on Mr. Booker indulgently. "Dynamite for the Canal, and while it's all right, you want a man who's mighty careful to carry it through the tropics along with the mercury exploders. Climate affects mercury, and it don't need much to send the whole kit to kingdom come. But let it go. I'll pay a premium the underwriters can't refuse. We'llhave to stand a heavy insurance with a man like McDuff—but of course, if you say so, let it go at that. James might go as mate. You won't take away his living, will you? You'll let him go as mate—on his old ticket? You know we've got to have men aboard a ship. A vessel won't run herself."
He arose to show the inspector that further conversation meant a loss of valuable time to the head of the firm. Captain Johns knew it and put on his hat. He had certain misgivings about granting McDuff a certificate, but he had passed his word. To break it would mean almost loss of position to himself, for Mr. Booker would do what he could to make him trouble, and he knew that trouble with Booker was trouble indeed. The inspector before him had cause to know this. There was no necessity for history repeating itself.
"I'll send McDuff down to you—good morning," said Mr. Booker, bowing him out.
Captain James and Mr. McDuff were staying at St Lucia. It had been convenient for them both to keep well away from the curious gaze of the government officials after the supposed loss of theEnos, and St. Lucia was a beautiful, far-removed spot. Upon the crumbling ramparts of the fort near the entrance Mr. McDuff sat cogitating a few days after Mr. Booker had made his little deal with the inspector, and when a small black lad handed him an envelope bearing the firm's name in the corner the taciturn mate trembled. It was so beautiful, so far removed from modernbusiness, so restful at St. Lucia. The trade-wind blew steadily across the point and the Caribbean sparkled in the sunshine. The harbour, devoid of shipping save when the week-end steamer from the States came to load bananas, lay like a deep azure pool unruffled by the lively breeze outside. It made a picture of quiet repose, and even the old dismounted guns used hundreds of years before to repel the buccaneers before Morgan's day seemed to have sunk into attitudes of profound peace. Then this letter from the world of business and strife. McDuff hesitated about opening it. It was probably a scouring, scathing, blistering sheet, edited in the cutting language of the head of the firm. "Ah, what's the use?" sighed McDuff. He held the missive in his hand and was about to fling it over the rock and watch it go fluttering to the sea beneath. Then curiosity came to his aid.
"Might as well open it; if there's any hot stuff in it, I don't have to read it," he muttered. "Here, boy—here's a tuppence—git out."
He tore the paper, pulled the letter out and read it carefully, and as he did so his fingers clinched and his back straightened. He was wanted to go as skipper of the old ship. Would he? Well, he would do almost anything except eat bananas. He walked swiftly to the town and stopped only long enough to drink three high-balls of rum and cola. Ah, the sparkling cola! He must have that. Then he took the train for Kingston.
"TheEnosis lying at the dock at Port Antonio,"said Mr. Booker, after he had greeted his man coldly and formally. "You will proceed there and take command. Go down at once and see Johns. He'll give you your examination at once. Get your ticket and go. Then wait for further orders. James will be mate."
McDuff grinned.
"Ah, weel, I ken he'll be a noddy wan—ah, man, man, but I'll fair dress him down into shape," he said, shifting his watery gaze over the room.
"You can dress him all you want," said Mr. Booker. "If I were you, however, I would not tempt Providence too far. James will not stand too much foolishness. He can lick you."
"Ah, na fear, me laddie, na fear—do I fergit th' times he gie me? Na, na. Wait till I trim him—my mate—at last, at last," said McDuff with unction.
"Well, we'll let that go," said Booker; "you're carrying dynamite and it won't do to get too frivolous. Do you know anything about carrying dynamite?"
"Na, an' I'm that old to learn," said McDuff, eying the owner quizzically. All his Scotch canniness was alert.
"Oh, it's all right," said Booker; "only you don't want to make rough-house aboard your ship the first time you take her out as master. You're chartered for Colon again, carrying supplies for the Canal."
"Ah, weel," said the mate.
"I reckon that's about all, Captain McDuff. Doyour duty like a man. If you do we'll forget some of your past—understand?"
"I ken it, I'll do it," said the man, dropping his eyes to the floor. His past was not a thing to speak lightly upon.
"Drink as much cola and good rum as you think you need. It doesn't hurt a man used to it, like yourself."
McDuff gave the owner a long searching look. The idea tickled him. He threw back his head and laughed, showing his yellow fangs.
"Good day, Captain McDuff," said Booker, bowing him out.
The new master of the little cargo carrierEnoshad hardly arrived aboard his vessel when James came slinking into the office. He had been laying up at Montego Bay, well up the hills, where the natives took care of him for sixpence a day. Booker appeared to have expected the visit. He closed the door of the inner office as the former skipper of the ship entered and they were alone.
"You know why I sent for you?" began Booker.
"I'm a good guesser," snarled the captain, his bloodshot eyes roving furtively about. "Make it short, don't cut in too deep. I'm here for orders."
"I haven't sent you up for life for desertion, have I?" asked the calm owner, eying him with a cold look.
"No, an' what's more you ain't going to," growled the captain.
"Lord, what a man!" sneered the owner. "You don't think I'm afraid to, do you?"
"There's mighty little you fear, Mr. Booker," said Captain James sourly, "but I understand you're not trading in morals—not yet. If you were, you might. If there's anything you've got to say, say it and let me go. I didn't come here for any lecture."
"How would you like to get your ticket back again—on some other vessel?" James eyed his former employer steadily. The effects of debauch made his swollen features seem grotesque in their red ugliness, but he was sober enough for business. He had dreaded the meeting. He knew his owner's moral tone, but he had not expected a reward where punishment was plainly indicated. He had given the ship a bad name.
"Let's have it fair and square—out with it," said the seaman.
"You know the ship is old—fit only to carry supplies," said Booker. "We're chartered to carry one hundred tons of blasting powder with exploders to Colon—enough to blow the whole Canal through. Can you see the point?"
"You don't want the stuff to get there—is that it?" asked James bluntly.
"If you can help us in the matter you shall be treated properly—your past forgotten," said Booker solemnly, eying him with a strangely insistent look.
"How much?" asked the practical navigator in a whisper.
"You'll get a thousand straight—my personal recommendation for any ship you wish. Perhaps in New York you'll find employment. We do a heavy business there——"
"Anything in writing?" asked James, without moving.
"Nothing," said Booker carelessly.
"Is McDuff wise?"
"He is not—some men you can't trust when drunk—some you can."
"How'll I manage? How'll I make him understand? I can't blow the ship under him—kill all hands for a paltry thousand dollars," hissed James.
There was a long silence. Booker lit a cigar with a steady hand and puffed slowly. He was in no hurry. James gazed at him fixedly for a long time. He shifted uneasily in his chair.
"Suppose I refuse?" he said.
"You know the consequences," said Booker quite calmly.
"Try to hang me for deserting my ship, hey?" snarled the seaman. "Want me to do a dirty job for the insurance—won't even tell me how you want it done."
"It's up to you. You are a seaman—a captain. That's what I've been hiring you for. If I were a sailor I might give you directions. I'm not. Will you do it or not? Let's have it."
"Yes, I'll do it, you devil," snarled James. "I'll do it—somehow. Good day."
"Good day, Captain—Mr. James," said Booker without enthusiasm. He opened the door and the fat form of the disreputable seaman slouched out. A clerk met him at the door and handed him a note. It was permission to draw a hundred dollars for travelling expenses. James took it to the cashier and handed it in.
"Thought you were in jail," sneered the cashier as he took the paper.
"You are a liar," murmured James smoothly.
The official made no further comment. The glare from the old seaman's eyes did not justify it. He handed the money through the window with the air of one handing a bone to a starving dog. James stuffed it away in his clothes and pulling his hat over his eyes, went his way down the street to his favourite haunt when in town. No one appeared to notice him. He was not recognized.
"You can get me a bottle of rum," said he to the waiter.
"What kind, sare—three or six?"
"I'll drink somethin' about ten shillin's a bottle," said James. "Wake up!"
The waiter brought a bottle and drew the cork. The odour filled the air. It caused James to smack his lips and he drained four glasses in as many minutes. Then he sat back in his chair and seemed to study the negro's face.
"Do you know whether Mr. Jackson—firm ofWells & Jackson, underwriters—is in town?" he asked.
"Yo' mean de insurance company, sare—yes, sare, he's here. Seen to-day on de street," answered the waiter. "He took a drink with Mr. Booker befo' closing time."
"Thank you, you can wrap up that bottle—I'll go along now," said the sailor.
It was plain to him that there had been a special deal, that Booker was carrying an extra heavy risk on his cargo. What if he should tackle Mr. Jackson? Jackson might listen to him, might even believe there was something in his warning, but he was a pariah and Mr. Booker was a gentleman. Then he had nothing whatever to offer as proof. His word against that of the owner? No, that wouldn't do at all.
He thought the matter over and finished off the bottle of rum while doing so. The more he drank the more he became convinced that the only thing to do was to follow Mr. Booker's wishes. The only thing was how would he do the job. How was it possible to sink a ship, blow her up, without killing all hands? He would not kill any one. No, he would not stoop to that. He must have time to think over the matter. It would require some nice adjustment to carry off the affair properly and not land in prison for life. He wondered whether McDuff knew anything of the deal. It was not likely; Mr. Booker had never made a confidant of the Scotchman, though the fellow had a close head and never talked, drunk or sober. James sleptover it and took the train for Port Antonio, arriving there in the afternoon. He at once made his way to the docks and boarded theEnoswithout being quizzed, though several persons seemed to show surprise at his presence. The story of his deserting his ship was now public property.
"I'm rare glad to see ye," said McDuff. "I'd na take ye for th' sneak they say ye are, Mr.—Mister James. I've been told ye wanted a place as mate wid the ould hooker. How is it?"
"Yes, I'll go as mate for you, Scotty," said James, thinking of the peculiar accent his former mate laid upon the word Mister. It was just as well to let the fellow know at once how much respect he felt for him. Then there would be no trouble in the future. He had served under him for several years, and it would swell his head, of course, to have command.
"I'm thinkin'—Mister—Meester James, that'll be about time ye took a reef in your tongue-lashin's. When ye have th' honour to speak to me, ye canna call me out of me name—that's Captain McDuff, sir—don't forget the SIR."
"No, Mack, I won't forgit it, an' don't you forgit who's talkin' to you either. If you do we'll have trouble—and Mr. Booker don't want any more of it in his ships—see? Let's have a drink, for the sake of old times?"
McDuff appeared to think a moment. It would hardly do to dress his mate now while at the dock.James would not stand it. He would drink—and wait.
"They handle that stuff mighty careless like," suggested James, gazing out of the stateroom door at the men loading cargo. "Seems to me if that's dynamite there's apt to be trouble—but then you only have it once," he added reflectively.
"That's the cargo, but not all dynamite. I dinna ken how much—but we pull out before dark. See to the gear aft—Meester James—an' remember the trouble I had with that old stern line last voyage. Ye wouldna gie me a new wan."
"Where do we go?" asked James.
"To New Orleans—git the cargo there, the rest of it. D'ye think, Meester James, that the British will furnish the powder? 'Tis good Yankee stuff we'll take wi' us, good New Orleans powder. Also we'll take a bit o' men, I'm thinkin', some o' that Dago gang for blasters. They make fine blasters, do Dagoes; an' if ye lift a few o' them to heaven, it makes little difference—there's plenty more. But they are an ugly lot to handle, all armed with pistols or knives, ready to shoot or stab any one."
"It's the Dago nature to go heeled," said James, drinking his rum and pondering over his scheme. The run to New Orleans offered nothing new in the way of developing his plans. He arose, went aft and made ready to get to sea. He was in an ugly mood, but all who knew him addressed him as "Captain,"and the "Mister" was forgotten in the usual turmoil of getting theEnosunder weigh.
A few days later in New Orleans the dynamite was aboard and the gangs of labourers who were to mine came down to the dock. James had studied many ways of getting the ship into trouble, but each one seemed too dangerous. It would not do to kill the crew. He would not do that, but to fire the cargo without almost certain death to all aboard appeared impossible. Then a thing occurred which seemed to be like the hand of Fate helping him on his way.
"'Tis a light cargo—an' she'll sit high, roll like a log," quoth McDuff the day after the powder had been safely stowed. "We've cleared and the insurance agent has had his claim settled. We're all ready for sea—Meester James—and we'll gie along; but I must ha' a wee bit o' drink first. Will ye coom along up the town, or will ye bide here till I come back?"
It still gave him pleasure to address his former captain in a patronizing manner with an emphasis upon "Meester."
James looked at him sourly and declined.
"Go on, Scotty," said he; "I'll stay by the ship. No drink for me until we get clear of this foul river. The stinks would spoil the taste of any kind of poison you'd put aboard ye."
"Weel, have a bit of a care, an' don't let them Dagoes get scuffling on the lower deck. There's a bit o' powder up there in them boxes," and McDuff went his way up the levee.
Sengali, the foreman of the gang, stood upon the string-piece of the wharf and glowered at the small ship. He was not a sailor, but he knew she would be a dirty and lively vessel in a blow. He had brought his wife with him, and together they surveyed the scene.
"We will go aboard and look—see," said he to his stout spouse, and they forthwith stepped upon the ship's deck. As nearly everybody had gone ashore as soon as McDuff's back had been seen upon the levee, they met no one and wandered over theEnosat will. Finally Sengali sat upon the boxes of powder and, lighting his pipe, began to smoke placidly. He was aware of the contents of the cases, but being an old hand at the handling of dynamite, he had developed that serenity and carelessness which is one of their distinguishing qualities. He feared not either fire or shock.
Mrs. Sengali wandered over the apparently deserted ship and finally found her way into McDuff's room in the rear of the pilot-house. Here she made herself comfortable.
It happened that Cellini, a young and amorous Dago, saw her. He had been drinking heavily, and as the coast appeared clear he made his way to the forward part of the ship, hoping to entertain the stout and rosy Mrs. Sengali in a manner common to drunken Dagoes. He saw no one forward and made his way to the captain's room. Then he quickly entered and swiftly closed the door.
Sengali, smoking and pondering upon the future to be had in the world at Panama, was aroused from pleasant dreams by the shrill screams of his wife. He sprang up the companionway and rushed for the vicinity of the noise. The cries seemed to come from the captain's room, and he hesitated. It was a terrible crime to assault a captain upon his own ship. But his wife. She was in terrible danger, her shrieks were now being half muffled, showing that the person who had caused them was stifling them as best he could. The Dago waited no longer; he crashed against the door.
It gave way with the impact and Sengali landed in the room. Cellini was holding his wife, but let her go instantly, and drawing a revolver, fired at Sengali. The latter raced for the companionway, hoping to gain his bundle, in which reposed his trusty knife. The bundle was lying where he had sat smoking upon the cases of dynamite, and he tore it apart, seized his weapon and turned to mete out a just revenge upon his assailant.
"I keel you now," he roared and rushed at Cellini, who had come floundering down the stairs after him, but who, being drunk, had tripped and had thus lost valuable time.
Cellini, lying upon one elbow, took deliberate aim at the enraged husband. A fireman, who had seen the fracas, fled up the levee shouting for the police, and James, who had been drowsing in his room, rolled out of his bunk and went to the scene of the trouble,intending to quell it, as a mate should. Cellini's first shot from his position where he had fallen tore through Sengali's uplifted hand. He gave a yell and drew it down, staggering and flinging the blood about. Then he rushed again at his prostrate enemy, his knife upraised, ready for the finishing stroke.
James gained the vicinity just as Cellini raised his weapon for the last shot. Drunk and furious at the interruption of Sengali, he appeared not to care for the retribution the husband was going to wreak upon him. He aimed carefully at the foreman's head and pulled the trigger. Just then James kicked the pistol aside and it exploded.
A man on the levee at some distance vouched for this much of the final act. He saw James kick the weapon, saw it explode. The next instant the forward part of theEnosdisappeared in a mass of flame.
Men came running from all directions at the sound of the detonating thunder. The rolling roar reverberated along the river-front for miles. People at a distance saw a huge waterspout rise from where the ship had been a moment before. Splinters, ironwork, rigging, spars and a piece of her smoke-pipe rose to an appalling height. Then the scene settled itself under a pall of dust and smoke.
The levee was destroyed for a distance of fifty fathoms. The dock had melted into the surrounding air. Trees, fences, and houses, everything at a distance of a quarter of a mile was razed flat. Men were knocked stunned and senseless who had been withinthis radius and the whole place seemed to have been shaved as with a mighty razor. Only a bit of the ship's stern, a tiny piece of her turtle-back, floated awash to show that there had ever been anything like a ship in the vicinity. TheEnos, loaded with dynamite, had blown up with all on board and had almost totally disappeared.
A few hours later McDuff came lurching down to his ship. He was comfortably drunk and was in high good humour.
"I'll trim Meester James—ah, yes, I'll trim him guid an' fine before we gie th' dock at Colon. 'Tis a fine thing to be th' boss—— What, am I drunk, or has the knave run away wid me ship? He has run away—yes, yes, he has run away. Ah, weel, what'll I do— The rascal has stolen me ship," said McDuff, looking about him and seeing nothing to indicate the whereabouts of theEnos. "Ah, weel, it was not my ship—but I will have the police after him. I will have him in th' calaboose. I'm fair drunk, I'm fair drunk—but na sa drunk I canna see a ship."
Mr. Booker read the cable despatch and handed it to his partner.
"That man James was certainly a genius," said he. "I'm half sorry for him. I guess he must have been too zealous—'twasn't like him, yet he must have been too anxious to please me."
"He'll turn up in time," quoth his partner, the amiable Mr. Benson. "The fact that he was aboard of her does seem a bit out of the ordinary, but there'sprobably some mistake about it. It'll straighten itself out later. He'll be here to see you, or I'm clean disappointed in him."
"I reckon we might as well attend to the underwriters without waiting for any complications," suggested Mr. Booker.
"Oh, yes, get the insurance. We've had a bit of luck—that's all."
THE END.