I could hear Meeker humming a tune and arranging his baggage. I stood for an instant and pondered over the situation, not sure that I would not be wiser to remain in Manila rather than sail in theKut Sang. I shivered as I sensed danger about me, as one feels the presence of an intruder in the dark that cannot be seen.
Then I laughed at myself, and opened my bag for my pistols.
TheKut Sangwas dropping downstream as I locked my stateroom and made my way to the upper-deck, partly to get a last look at Manila, but more for the purpose of considering what I should do in the matter of telling Captain Riggs that I suspected Meeker was not a missionary.
In the last few minutes before the departure of the vessel I had suddenly been struck with the idea that Meeker was more than a mere spy who mistook me for one of his own ilk. This feeling was vague and formless, and I did not know how to begin to put together the various elements that seemed to connect some sort of a well-defined plot.
No sooner would I set about putting certain facts together than I would laugh at myself for manufacturing a mystery; and, after I had tried to shake off the impression that theKut Sangand all of us in her were more than mere travellers and seamen, the fantastic ideas insisted upon running through my head.
Through this formless mass of queer events of the day, Meeker and the little red-headed man kept to the front of my fancies, and with them the steamerKut Sang.
Why, I asked myself, had Meeker made such strenuous efforts to keep me from taking passage in the vessel? It seemed absurd to suppose that he had acted as he did, simply because he disliked the idea of having me for a fellow passenger.
Then there was Trego and Meeker's appearance at the bank, "seeking alms," and the further fact that Trego was in theKut Sang. It seemed to be more than a coincidence that the two of them should meet as they did.
I even found something queer in the killing of the boatswain of theKut Sangat the Flagship Bar, and began to wonder if Petrak did not have a hand in the murder, even though he was so ready with a denial when I spoke to him about it.
As I stood at the rail of the hurricane-deck, and thought of these things, Petrak came up from the fore-deck and stood at the foot of the ladder leading to the bridge, where I could hear Captain Riggs pacing to and fro and speaking through the trap to the helmsman about the course.
The little red-headed man grinned at me and set to work polishing the knob of the wheel-house door, and not until that minute did I realize that he had come along with us in theKut Sang. And he likewise reminded me at once that it was I who had brought him aboard.
"I signed on, sir," he said, pointing to his new cap, which had the steamer's name embroidered upon it. "Thanks to you, sir, I got a ship out."
"I am glad you did," I said curtly, not sure whether I ought to be amused at the turn of events by which I had unwittingly brought the little rascal along with me.
I glanced up the companionway to Captain Riggs, and had a mind to go up and speak to him about Meeker, but I disliked to invade the bridge, sacred territory at sea. He was standing just at the head of the ladder then, and could see me.
"Would you mind the peseta, sir?" asked Petrak.
I remembered that he had brought my bag aboard, and, finding a peso in my pocket—five times what he had asked for—I gave him the coin.
"Here," I said; "take this, and keep out of my reach. I've seen quite enough of you for a time."
"Please don't tip my crew," Captain Riggs called down to me in a pleasant manner. "The steward's department must attend to the passengers, for we are short-handed on deck, and I can't have the men running errands."
"It's for services rendered," I told Riggs, and he nodded as if satisfied with my explanation, and turned away to the other end of the bridge.
Impulsively I started up the ladder, determined at least to tell him what I suspected of Meeker and let him judge for himself, or be on his guard against the old impostor, whether he liked my tale-bearing or not. As I put my hand out to take the ladder-guard, Petrak thrust himself before me and barred the way.
"Can't go on the bridge, sir; against orders," he said.
I fell back, convinced that he was right and that I had had a narrow escape from making an ass of myself. Captain Riggs probably would not thank me for disturbing him or bothering him with idle rumours and fanciful yarns about passengers, even though they might be spies.
The steamer was now well into the bay. The sun was at the rim of hills between us and the open sea, and the sky was aflame in a gorgeous tropical sunset.
Harris, the mate, was busy on the fore-deck battening down hatches and clearing up the litter of ropes and slings. TheKut Sangwas plainly enough short-handed for the passage, for there were but half a dozen Chinese sailors in sight. Petrak worked with a cloth on the brass-knob, and he was loafing without a doubt.
I suspected that he was afraid I was waiting for him to go away, so thatI might go up the ladder to the bridge. One of the men who had broughtMeeker's organ aboard had the wheel, a long, lanky cockney he was, fromwhat I could see of him through the window of the pilot-house.
We were well clear of the ships at anchor outside the breakwater when four bells—six o'clock—struck, and Harris came up and went on the bridge, passing without apparently seeing me. He growled something to Petrak, and the red-headed man went toward the forecastle.
"Time for Rajah to have the bell going," said Riggs as he descended to the hurricane-deck and greeted me affably. "What do you say to going below and seeing what's on the table?"
As he spoke I heard the rattle of a gong, and as I turned to go below with Captain Riggs, Meeker came around the deck-house and joined us, regarding us from under his heavy brows as he approached, and rubbing his hands in a manner that increased my growing dislike for him.
"My dear sirs," he said; "that is a beautiful sight. I have never seen, in all my twenty years in the Orient, such a sunset."
"Can't keep me from my meals," said Captain Riggs, waving to Meeker to precede him into the companionway. I was rather pleased at the captain's gruffness with him, and resolved that as soon as the opportunity offered I would discuss the crafty gentleman with Riggs.
We found Trego at table. He looked up, and made no attempt to conceal his surprise at seeing Meeker.
"Ah! Mr. Trenholm," he said to me, and we shook hands, and the Malay boy gave me the seat opposite him.
"Mr. Trego—allow me—the Reverend Meeker," said Riggs.
"So you and Mr. Trenholm have met before?" said Meeker, evidently astonished because Trego spoke to me without an introduction.
"Old friends," and I winked at Trego, to the further mystification of the pseudo-missionary, who took the seat beside me. Captain Riggs took the head of the table, so that he was between Trego and me.
"And this is Rajah, the mess-boy," said Riggs, indicating the black boy who stood behind him, clad in a white jacket with brass buttons, below which he wore a scarletsarongreaching to his bare feet, and evidently fashioned from an old table-cover. The hilt of a kris showed above the folds of hissarong, and the two lower buttons of the jacket were left open, so that the dagger might be free to his hand. He grinned and showed his teeth.
"Dumb as a dog-fish, but can hear like a terrier," said Riggs. "Picked him up in the streets of Singapore, where he was sort of an assistant magician. He's quick with that knife, gentlemen."
The captain was obviously proud of his queer bodyguard and servant.
"It is a pity that he should be allowed to carry a fearsome weapon, which is a menace to his fellowmen," said Meeker, shrinking away from the boy. "I believe he would slay a human over a trifle."
"Absolutely harmless unless he has some reason to anger," laughed Riggs, somewhat amused at the nervousness of Meeker. "Has to pack that cheese-knife—chinks pick on him if he don't. Give him a wide berth, though, when they see that blade. Quick with it."
"But we should lead the barbarian to the light," said Meeker. "It is a dreadful example for Christians to set such people. They should not be allowed to carry such weapons—the practice leads to crime."
"Soup all around, Rajah," said Riggs, as if to close the subject.
"Do you carry deadly weapons, Mr. Trenholm? Do you approve of the bearing of arms?"
"I always have a weapon at hand," I replied seriously. "One never can tell when it will be needed in this country, and I believe in always being ready for an emergency."
"Indeed! And is it possible that you have a dagger concealed upon your person?"
"No daggers; but this is my right bower"—tapping the butt of the pistol on my right side—"and this is my left bower," and I tapped my left side.
Mr. Trego burst out laughing at this, much to the discomfiture of Meeker, who glared at him, and edged away from me.
"And do you carry such death-dealing machinery, Mr. Trego?" asked Meeker, a sneer in the question.
Trego reached for his malacca cane. In an instant he had whipped it apart and presented a delicate point toward Meeker, who recoiled at the suddenness of the unexpected thrust.
"With me at all times," said Trego, when the captain stopped laughing. "And my cabeen—eet ees one beeg arsenal, like you call it in your language. Yes."
"A pitiable example for the heathen," said Meeker. "I trust that you are not armed to the teeth, as the expression goes, captain."
"I don't want to spoil your appetite," said Riggs.
"Of course, Mr. Trego needs those things, as he is—"
"A passenger," said Trego, giving the captain a quick glance.
"A passenger," said Riggs blankly. "To be sure, a passenger. Now, Mr.Meeker, I wish you would say a grace, if it pleases you."
Meeker bowed his head and mumbled something which I could not make out; besides, I was much more interested in a little byplay between Captain Riggs and Trego, which began as soon as Meeker and I had piously cast our eyes downward.
It was a signal conveyed by Trego to the captain, in which he cautioned him to silence about something, by putting his finger to his lips, as if some subject were tabooed. Riggs nodded as if he understood. Before Meeker had finished, Trego looked at him and scowled, to convey to the captain that he did not like the missionary.
"The weather is going to be fine from the way it looks now," said Riggs, in an altered tone, as if he wanted to shift the conversation into more congenial lines. "I trust we will all do our best to stay up to the weather in that respect—quick passage and good company keeps everybody on good terms and in good spirits," he added significantly.
Then he began giving us the stock-jokes of the China Sea and telling stories of his younger days, when he had better commands than the oldKut Sang. He was a bluff but likable old sea-dog, but I saw that he observed Meeker closely as he talked, and I knew that he was none too well taken with him.
So the meal went on well enough. Night had fallen upon us with tropical swiftness, and a cooling breeze was blowing through the open ports, charged with the salt tang of the sea. TheKut Sangwas humming along, and there was a soothing murmur through the ancient tub as she shouldered the gentle swells of the bay.
The saloon was cozy and we dallied at table, chiefly because we did not like to leave while Riggs was telling his stories, although I would have preferred my cigar on deck.
There was something about the little party in the saloon of theKut Sangthat evening that held my attention. To me the air seemed charged with a foreboding of something imminent—something out of the ordinary, something to be long remembered. I told myself, in a premonition of things to come, that I should always remember Captain Riggs and the Rev. Luther Meeker and Trego and Rajah, and the very pattern of the parti-coloured cloth on the table, the creak of the pivot-chairs and the picture of the Japanese girl in the mineral-water calendar which swayed on the bulkhead opposite my seat.
I can see them now; as clearly as if I were back in the oldKut Sang, with the chatter of the Chinese sailors coming through the ports to spice the tales of the China coast which Riggs kept going.
We picked up Corregidor Light, which winked at us through the ports as we entered the channel. Somebody looked in at the door of the passage and Riggs waved a napkin at him.
"Tell Mr. Harris to call me if he needs me," he said, and then to us: "It's clear, and Mr. Harris, my mate, knows the Boca Grande like the palm of his hand."
He was well launched into another of his long yarns and had a fresh cigar between his teeth when the pitching of the steamer told us we were heading into the China Sea. We were clear of the channel by the time he had finished the adventure he was relating, and Trego was beginning to fidget. We all moved as if to leave the table.
"I signed the two men you brought aboard, Mr. Meeker," said Riggs. "What are their names?"
"That I do not know for certain," replied Meeker. "I believe the chap in the navy-pantaloons is known as—Buckrow, and the other, the tall Briton, is called 'Long Jim,' or some such name, by his companions. They both appear to be worthy men, and it made me sad to see them on the beach in Manila for the need of passage to Hong-Kong, or some other place where they would be more likely to get a ship.
"That is why I interceded in their behalf, and it is very kind of you, captain, to make it possible for them to better themselves, for idle men in these ports fall into evil, and it is best that they should keep to the sea. They were both well spoken of by Mr. Marley, who has charge of the Sailors' Home."
"Two sailors that I see?" Trego asked the captain.
"Mr. Meeker brought two men aboard with him to carry his gear," explained Riggs. "They wanted to get out of Manila, and, as I was short-handed for chinks, I let 'em work their passage. They signed with the commissioner, and will get four Hong-Kong dollars for the trip."
Trego frowned as he toyed with a bamboo napkin-ring, but said nothing.
"Your red-headed chap is a good man at the helm," said Riggs to me. "He's got the wheel now, and, with the other two, I'll have good quartermasters. The chinkies are poor steerers."
"Meester Trenholm ees breeng a sailor, too?" demanded Trego, turning his black eyes on me in a manner that I could not understand.
"He brought my baggage aboard," said I, somewhat annoyed. "He offered his services to Captain Riggs, and was hired, and it is no affair of mine."
"The little man with hair of red?" persisted Trego.
"Decidedly red."
Knowing, as I did, that he had charge of the ship—a fact which he evidently wished to keep from Meeker and me, judging from his signals to the captain—I understood in a way his interest in the crew.
"Pardon, captain," said Trego abruptly. "I must go to my cabeen for some cigarettes. Soon I will return. I hope you will be here."
It struck me that his suggestion that Captain Riggs wait for him was more in the nature of a command than a request.
Rajah served coffee again, and the three of us fell silent. It was an awkward situation, for we all felt embarrassed—at least I did, as a result of Trego's displeasure over the method of recruiting the crew. I wished that I had left Petrak on the dock.
Meeker took an old newspaper from his pocket and unfolded it on the table carefully.
"I think I have something here which will interest you both," he began. "It concerns—my glasses! Will you pardon me for a minute while I get my glasses from my room? I'll be back presently," and he bowed himself out.
"The old shark is funny," said Riggs. "I hold to what I have said about parsons—I don't like 'em aboard me."
I glanced at the passage and wondered if I would have time to whisper toRiggs about Meeker before the latter returned.
"He wants to hold some sort of service for'ard this evening," continued the captain. "I'm suited if the crew is. It's not that I'm against the sailing directions in the Bible, mind, Mr. Trenholm, or an ungodly man, for I was a deacon back home in Maine. I don't like this chap—he looks too slippery to suit me."
Meeker came back and closed the bulkhead door behind him, adjusting his glasses and picking up the newspaper as he took his seat.
"My dear sirs," he resumed, "I want to read this little article to you and then I'll explain it more fully to you. I am sure that you will find it of interest, Mr. Trenholm, as a literary man and a member of the press, even if in no other way, and you, my dear Captain Riggs, will be interested because it concerns the sea, and you may have some knowledge of the facts. When I was in Aden four—no, five years ago it was—I met a most remarkable gentleman. Most remarkable! He told me a story that was passing strange, and—"
He was interrupted by the bulkhead door flying open violently and Rajah, with his hands thrown up and terror in his eyes, ran toward Captain Riggs, making frantic efforts to frame words with his lips.
"Sally Ann!" cried Riggs in alarm, jumping up. "What the devil has happened to give the boy such a turn! He's nigh out of his wits!"
Rajah pointed to the open door, but we could not see into the passage beyond the triangle of light thrown out from the gimbal-lamps in the saloon. The boy ran toward the door and pointed again, and then drew back in fear, drawing his kris and raising it in a position of defence.
Captain Riggs ran to the door and I followed him, with my hand on my pistol, Meeker crowding against my shoulders. In the dim light oozing into the passage we made out an indistinct figure.
"What in Sally Ann's name is this?" shouted Riggs, darting out and seizing the object, which he pulled toward the light.
It was the body of Mr. Trego, stabbed to the heart, the sailor's sheath-knife which had killed him still in his fatal wound.
"What the blue blazes does this mean?" demanded Captain Riggs, turning to us as if we could explain the tragedy. "What in the name of Sally Ann has happened here? Tell me that?"
"Can that be our friend, Mr. Trego, who was with us but a minute ago?" asked Meeker, aghast as he gazed at the waxen features of the dead man.
"It's Mr. Trego right enough," shouted Riggs. "It's Trego and no doubt of that! Well, I'm blowed!"
"Who could have done such an awful thing?" whispered Meeker, staring at me with wide-open eyes. "Who could have done this?"
"Don't ask me!" Captain Riggs bawled at him. "Don't ask me!"
"He's quite dead," said Meeker, leaning forward again. "In the midst of life we are in death."
He held his hands over the dead man and said a prayer.
"That's all very pious and according to Hoyle," said Captain Riggs, breaking into wrath as Meeker finished his prayer over the body of Trego. "But I'd have you know, sir, that theKut Sangis no bally chapel, and I don't take murder aboard me as a regular custom, and let it go at that. Somebody will have to answer for this at the end of a rope, or my name's not Riggs. Hereafter when there's praying to be done I'll order it."
"I was merely speeding a departing soul," said Meeker.
"That's all very well, Mr. Meeker, but I've got to see what this is all about, and why—Mr. Trego is supercargo in charge of the ship and—"
Riggs stopped suddenly when he realized that he had told us the secret which Trego wished kept from us.
"Well, I've got trouble enough," he said, confused at what had happened.
"Nothing irregular, I trust," said Meeker, raising his eyebrows in mild surprise and observing me cautiously.
"Too blasted irregular to suit me," said Riggs. "Gentlemen, I may as well tell you that this man is down on the passenger-list as a passenger like yourselves, but at the last minute before we sailed he showed papers as supercargo and announced that he was in charge of the ship, and that he represented the charter party. The truth of his statements was borne out by a messenger from the owners. He told me that he would explain it all as soon as we got to sea, and now he has been killed. Is it any wonder I am upset about it?"
"It is passing strange," said Meeker. "Will you have to turn back toManila on account of this?"
"My last orders to proceed to Hong-Kong at the best speed still stand. The Dutchman, Rajah—the Dutchman," and he made a sign to the Malay boy to call the second mate.
The three of us gathered at the end of the table and steadied ourselves in the minute we waited for the Dutchman, who soon came clumping down the passage. He nearly stumbled over the body lying just outside the coaming of the door, and then stopped and stared at the dead man.
"Gott!" he said, and then looked at Riggs questioningly.
"Take the bridge and have Mr. Harris muster the crew—all hands, and look sharp," said Riggs. "Have every man Jack of 'em up here, and let us see what they have been about. Have Mr. Harris muster the crew! Hear me? Don't stand there like a barn-owl! Relieve Mr. Harris, and have all hands aft!"
He hurried away, and that was the last I ever saw of the second mate of theKut Sang. Rajah and a Chinese sailor spread old canvas close to the door inside the saloon, and lifted Trego's body on it.
Harris came up the passage and leaned against the door. He had on an old pair of dungaree trousers and a jacket that had been white, and his bare feet were thrust into native heelless slippers.
"This is a nice mess, ain't it?" he growled, looking coldly at the scene before him. "Who let the knife into him?"
"That's what we want to find out at once," said Riggs. "Have all hands up here, the watch below and all. Muster them in the passageway, and let them in here one at a time, the white hands first. We've got to get at the bottom of this affair right away, Mr. Harris."
"Like as not somebody'll know the knife, cap'n," suggested the mate.
"That's it, Mr. Harris. Bring 'em up here with a sharp turn and no laying back, and you be here so I can find out what every man has been at in the last quarter of an hour—you know what this means."
We sat down at the table, Riggs at the end in a pivot-chair swung toward the door of the passage. He took off his glasses and wiped them in an officious manner, and sent Rajah for a pad of paper and a pencil.
"Then this poor Mr. Trego was not a passenger," said Meeker, leaning his elbows on the table and scanning Riggs closely.
"Gentlemen," began the captain, clearing his throat and adjusting his silver-rimmed spectacles again, "I am going to hold an inquiry now, and, as witnesses to what takes place, I think you should know the facts in the case, as far as I know them.
"There is something about this business that has carried by with me.Never had anything like this happen aboard me in the thirty years thatI've had a command. First time since I've had a master's ticket that Ihaven't had the full confidence of the owners.
"This man Trego was very mysterious, and why he wanted to sail as a passenger when he was supercargo, and keep it from you, gentlemen, is past me. Perhaps I should not have said anything about this end of it until I have examined his papers, but as witnesses I want you to know the facts as they lay."
"A most mysterious affair—most mysterious," agreed Meeker, shaking his head and fingering his shell crucifix. "What are the details of the man's coming aboard, captain? I am not quite clear on that point."
"He was down as a passenger, just as you gentlemen are. I never saw him before until Mr. Harris called me forward before the lines were cast off. He told me that this man wanted to take charge of lading the last of the cargo—cargo that was manifested as machinery. His papers were right, and the messenger from the owners made it all as he said.
"It is not for me to question the acts of the owners, but I should have been advised of the circumstances. However, Mr. Trego was going to explain. It may be all right and nothing out of the ordinary, but now that this has happened I'm all back, and I'm left to guess what it all means if I can."
"What was the cargo?" asked Meeker.
"Machinery, so far as the manifest says. Several cases—By George! He had it stowed in the storeroom—"
He was interrupted by Harris bawling in the passage, and the Chinese stokers swarming up the fire-room ladder, chattering and yelling to their mates below. The news of the murder had spread through the ship and had created a great turmoil.
The mate thrust a man into the doorway, whom I recognized as one of the men who had brought Meeker's organ on board.
"Here's one of the new men, sir," said Harris, "Says he has been for'ard since going off watch. He's next at the wheel, sir."
"Now, then," began Riggs, with pencil poised, "what's your name in the ship's articles?"
"Buckrow, sir," said the sailor, staring at a lamp, and avoiding the figure of Trego almost at his feet.
I observed him closely, and was not pleased with his appearance. His large mouth carried a leering, insolent expression and his nose was broken, hanging a trifle to one side. He was short, with great hulking shoulders. His black shirt was open at the neck, and he wore blue navy trousers with the familiar wide bottoms. His brown forearms were covered with tattoo-marks.
"Tell all you may know which could throw any possible light on this dreadful affair, that the guilty may be brought to justice and the dead avenged," said Meeker.
"Steady as she goes!" warned Captain Riggs. turning in his chair and holding up his hand. "I'll ask the questions, if you please, Mr. Meeker. Now, then, my man, where have you been in the last hour?"
"For'ard, turned in, sir," replied Buckrow, keeping his eyes on the flame of the lamp.
"See this dead man here?"
"Aye, sir."
"No, you don't—look at him! Did you have a hand in this?"
"No, sir." He took a quick glance at the dead man and fastened his eyes on the lamp again.
"Know who killed him?"
"No, sir."
"That's all for now."
Harris led forward the tall cockney I had seen at the wheel. He said his name was Crannish, and he spelled it for the captain, who examined the crew list to verify him. He said that he was known as "Long Jim" by his mates. He did not seem to take the murder as a serious matter, but answered Captain Riggs's questions calmly, his eyes roving over the interior of the saloon, taking us all in very coolly.
There was a gleam of amusement in his eyes as he looked at Meeker, as if he thought it a joke that the missionary should be sitting on an inquiry board. Meeker returned his gaze in a disinterested manner, swaying in his chair with the motion of the ship, and fumbling his shell crucifix, as if it was a talisman to guard him against danger.
Crannish was dismissed, and the next was Petrak. He impudently winked at me as he stepped into the light, and hitched up his trousers in a nonchalant manner that was amusing. He had his shoes in his hand, and he had evidently dressed in a hurry to obey the summons of the mate.
"Petrak's my name, sir, and they make a joke on my head by making me out'Dago Red,' sir. Been bos'n in—"
"He was relieved at eight bells, sir; has the wheel in the Dutchman's watch," explained Harris.
"Where did you go then?" demanded the captain.
"Turned right in, sir, after a bit of a wash."
"Where were you at one bell?" put in Harris, giving the captain a significant look.
"For'ard in my bunk, sir."
"You lie," drawled Harris coldly. "Ye passed the galley ports a minute or so after one bell was struck. I saw ye."
"Not me, sir; never anything like that, sir, beggin' ye're pardon."
"Yes, ye did, and don't ye lie to me," retorted Harris. "Ye didn't go right for'ard when ye come off watch. I heard ye yarnin' with Buckrow, or what's his name, just after ye passed the galley. Yer phiz showed plain to me as Cape Cod Light on a clear night."
"Where's your knife?" said Riggs suddenly, leaning forward and peering at his belt.
"Left it in my bunk, sir. Top one, first to port as ye go down—right at the head it is, sir, in some straw."
"Send a man for it, Mr. Harris. Is it in the sheath, you Petrak?"
"Can't say, sir," said Petrak, looking about nervously, and feeling at his belt.
"Can't say! Can't say! You can't say because that's yer knife right there under yer eyes! That's yer knife and you killed this man!"
"Tell the truth, my good man," interjected Meeker, holding up his hands."Tell the truth and—"
"Belay!" yelled Riggs. "You speak when ye're spoken to, Mr. Meeker, if you please!"
"No offence intended—purely involuntary on my part. I beg your pardon, my dear sir."
"That's your knife and you killed him," repeated Riggs to Petrak.
"Never killed him, sir, and nobody else, strike me blind if I did, and that's the truth, sir," said Petrak doggedly, but in spite of his brave showing there was a whimper in his voice and his knees trembled. "Did you have an accomplice?" asked Meeker, and I thought I saw some sort of a signal pass between them.
Buckrow arrived from the forecastle with a leather sheath and a knife in it. He handed it to Harris.
"There's my knife!" yelled Petrak. "That's it, just as I said, and Bucky found it in my bunk where I said it was, strike me blind!"
Captain Riggs was nonplussed for a second at this, and he hesitated. Then he looked at Buckrow, who was trying to get past Harris into the passage again.
"Buckrow! Wait a minute, my man! Where's your knife?"
"My knife?" said Buckrow in amazement. "My knife?"
"Yes, the knife you had when you were here first. Where is it now? It ain't in your belt."
Buckrow reached to his hip, and consternation pulled his face into varying expressions as he found his sheath empty. But we knew his astonishment was simulated.
"Damme if it bain't gone! Some of them cussed chinks must 'ave a tooken it. It was—"
"That's all very well," said Riggs. "The redheaded one is our man."
"Where's that bleedin' knife?" said Buckrow, fumbling at his belt.
"Never mind that," put in Riggs. "That's your knife there in the red fellow's sheath, and this is settled until it is turned over to the judge. Put this man Petrak, or whatever his name is, in irons, Mr. Harris; and you, Buckrow, you know more than you'll tell. Mind what you're about or you'll be clapped in irons, too, along with your mate here. Have the body wrapped with some firebars, Mr. Harris, to be buried in the morning. That's all. Double irons, Mr. Harris."
"I never done for him, and that gent knows it," wailed Petrak, as Harris put his hand on his shoulder to take him away. To my amazement, Petrak pointed his finger at me.
"What's that?" said Riggs sharply.
"Tell all you know, my good man," said Meeker despite the caution Riggs had given him about interfering.
"The gent in the white suit knows all about it. I done for this chap, and the writin' chap, that I brought his bag aboard, paid me for it. Said he would, and gave me some of the money on deck to-day. You saw him, cap'n—you saw him hand-in' me the silver, sir. He's in it, too, and—"
"Why, my dear Mr. Trenholm!" exclaimed Meeker, getting to his feet, aghast at the accusation of the little red-headed man. "My dear sir, I could hardly believe such a thing of you! And we dined with you—"
"Here, you hold up," shouted Riggs. "What does this mean, Mr. Trenholm? I remember now that I did see this man taking money from you and I told you not to be tipping the crew. What have you to say?"
"He was to give me ten pound—"
"Shut up!" roared Harris to Petrak.
"What have I to say?" I gasped, astounded at the turn of affairs and hardly able to believe what I heard from Petrak. "I know nothing about it! The man must be crazy!"
"I am not so sure of that," retorted Riggs. "I must confess, Mr.Trenholm, that I was somewhat surprised to find that you carried twopistols, and you must admit that you brought this man on board with you.You seem to know him."
"Know him! The little rat has been following me about Manila all day! I thought I was to be rid of him until you took him as a member of the crew—"
"Ten pound I was to get for a killin' of that chap there," shriekedPetrak. "That's what he was passing me the silver for this day, sir.They'll hang me now—they'll hang me!"
"It looks very awkward for you, Mr. Trenholm," said Meeker, sadly.
I was about to denounce the missionary and tell him how I had seen him and Petrak together much in Manila, but I was so angry for a minute that I thought it better to hold myself in check for the time.
I stood before them for a few seconds, wondering what I should do, and then my rage got possession of me, and I reached for a pistol, intending to hold Meeker under the muzzle of it and make him confess his true character and admit that Petrak was his friend rather than mine.
As I threw my hand back, my wrist was seized and I turned to see Rajah behind me, holding my arm in a firm grip. He menaced me with his kris and grinned calmly.
"My dear Mr. Trenholm," said Meeker, smiling blandly. "One crime should serve your purpose for this evening, it seems to me."
Captain Riggs stepped up and relieved me of my pistols, and I knew that I had made a fool of myself by attempting to draw the weapon.
"I am very sorry about this, Mr. Trenholm," said the captain.
Meeker stood with folded arms and grinned at me as he saw my pistols taken by the captain; and for the first time since I had seen him he dropped his sanctimonious pose and looked anything but the decrepit old missionary which he had always seemed. His shoulders were squared and his head thrown back, and there was mockery in his eyes.
But it was not so much his insolent and triumphant look which took my attention as the manner in which he stood upon the heaving deck of the saloon; his knees had that limp sea-bend of the sailor and his out-turned toes seemed to grasp the uncertain rise and fall of the carpet beneath his feet; he was a mariner now, not a preacher, for no landsman could hold himself so easily in a vessel which pitched and rolled in the long swells of the China Sea.
I looked at him defiantly, and his eyes seemed to dare me to speak out and say the things which were in my mind. He seemed to understand that I was trying to frame a denunciation, for I was white to the lips with rage at him.
"You seemed determined to sail in theKut Sang, Mr. Trenholm," he said: "So your insistence to be a passenger was to slay a fellow-man, was it? I am shocked beyond measure!"
"You hound!" I screamed. "You have played your cards well, you and your little red-headed scoundrel! If you think I am a spy you will find—"
"Tut, tut, Sally Ann!" said Captain Riggs. "We can't have any of that.Hold your tongue, sir, or I'll have you in irons."
"If you'll give me ten minutes privately, captain, I'll tell you who this devil—"
"I'm a man of the cloth, and I will not countenance such language!" shrieked Meeker in an attempt to check me; but I could see that I had cut him deeply, for he whitened and stepped toward me with closed fist. "Don't you call me devil! You know nothing of me—tell it if you will—what do you know? Where did you get that name?"
"Gentlemen! Gentlemen!" said Riggs, still holding one of my pistols in his hand, and keeping an eye on the bulkhead door for the return of the mate.
"He's a Japanese spy," I said. "He's no missionary at all, but a spy, and the fool believes that I am in the Russian service. He tried to hold me in Manila, and when I would not listen to his lies he has taken this way to discredit me, probably have me hanged! It's all a plot—"
"That will do," commanded Riggs. "You have not been tried yet, Mr. Trenholm. You can tell all that to the judge. If you go on this way I will be compelled to make a prisoner of you. I am not taking that red chap's word for what he says about you, but if you go on like this I will have to put you in confinement. Otherwise, you will simply be restricted to your cabin until we reach Hong-Kong. I will have to make sure that you have no more arms, and if you will promise to remain in your room, that will do until this matter is turned over to the courts, and then you may state your case."
"Are you not going to put this man where he can do no more harm?" asked Meeker. "You can see for yourself that my life will be in danger unless this man is made a prisoner. I protest against his being allowed his liberty—I have no desire to be found in my bed as poor Mr. Trego was found here a few minutes ago."
"You will be protected," said the captain. "Mr. Harris, is that you? Take Mr. Trenholm here to his room, and remove all his luggage and see that he has no more arms, even so much as a pocket-knife. Then lock him in his room."
"I protest against such treatment, Captain Riggs. If you will give me ten minutes so that I may tell my story I will willingly obey any order you may give, even to becoming a prisoner in my room; but I think that it will be better for you to know the facts about this case, and what I have learned about this Mr. Meeker in Manila."
"And what is it you have learned?" cried Meeker, advancing on me again in a menacing manner, and plainly surprised at what I had said.
"A few things about you and Petrak that Captain Riggs should know," I retorted.
"Mr. Harris, take Mr. Trenholm to his room," and the mate took me by the arm and led me down the passage. As I went out Meeker grinned after me and whispered something to Captain Riggs behind his hand.
Harris opened the door and thrust me before him into the dark stateroom and commanded me to light the gimbal-lamp, passing me a match. When I had the lamp lit he took a quick glance inside.
"That man Meeker is a spy," I began. "It was for him that Petrak killed Trego, and all day in Manila he and that little fellow were at my heels—"
"Stow that," said Harris. "Take what you need out of yer gear, and hand the rest of it out, and mind that thar's no gun-play about it. I'm well heeled, and if ye make a move I'll let daylight through yer innards. Look lively now."
I took a pair of pajamas and a few toilet-articles from my bag. He would not let me have my razors, or any of the packets of papers or my money belt. When he had taken my grip he demanded my clothes, and left me in my pajamas and locked the door, with a growl of caution about monkey-business.
"We hain't takin' no chances with gents like ye be," he said. "And mind that ye stick close here, 'cause we've got a watch outside, and the first time we ketch ye up to any didoes we'll have ye below with brass bracelets on with yer pal Petrak, where ye belong."
At this he slammed the heavy oak door and turned the key in the lock.
My first emotions were anger and the sense of humiliation. I was beaten, outwitted, captured by Meeker, and by my own stupidity. But I realized that the battle had but just begun, and my first task must be to attempt some defence, some counter move against the old fraud who had drawn his plot about me for his own mysterious object.
I berated myself for my conceit in imagining that I could play with such a dangerous man as Meeker proved himself to be, especially since I had seen through his disguise almost from the first. One of two things in Manila would have saved me from my position—either I should have told Meeker at once that he was mistaken in thinking me a spy and warned him to keep clear of me, or I should have told the police that I was being annoyed by a suspicious character. I had had grounds enough for making a complaint against Meeker and Petrak when I found the little red-headed man sneaking outside my door in the hotel, and the supposed missionary blocking my pursuit on the stairway.
Even if the police had given me no satisfaction, I could have warned Meeker that I would not submit to his espionage—a hundred ways of protecting myself from the fellow came into my mind as I sat there on my berth and reviewed what had taken place in Manila before I ever went on board theKut Sang.
But that was all past, and it did me no good to go over the mistakes I had made. I was bitter at myself for allowing Petrak to bring my bag on board, for I had thus given him an opportunity to claim me as an ally in the murder.
The best that I could make of the whole affair was that Meeker took me for a spy, as I had suspected from the first, and in order to prevent me from going to Hong-Kong for some purpose opposed to the plans of his masters, had done his best to keep me out of the steamer.
Then, when he found that he could not block me in going, he did the next best thing and came with me. To further embarrass me and prevent me from accomplishing the object of my supposed mission in Hong-Kong, he had got me involved in a crime from which I knew I would have a great deal of difficulty in getting myself free, especially as Petrak seemed willing enough to testify against me even though he should hang for the murder.
It seemed beyond reason that they should kill Trego simply to have something of which I might be accused; it seemed to me that my own death would have been an easier way to get rid of me.
I began an analysis of every event which entered into the total of the mystery, seeking for some key which would aid me in assorting the tangled bits that only needed to be arranged properly to bet the solution, much as a jig-saw puzzle is worked out. If I had a proper beginning it would all be easy enough.
The killing of the boatswain in the Flagship Bar seemed significant, although I could not connect it with Meeker's plot against me, and I had to lay that episode aside until I saw it in its proper relation to the other parts.
Standing near the lamp, I wrote down on a scrap of paper each event in its proper order, from my first sight of Meeker that morning as I arrived at the mole from Saigon. When I had made a note of the delivery of the letter to the Russian consul at the bank, I found Trego and Meeker together—the spy disguised as a missionary seeking alms, and Trego driving him out of the room.
It was obvious enough to me that in delivering the letter I had walked into some sort of a plot of which I had no knowledge, for Meeker was not only spying upon me, but he was spying upon Trego or the bank.
The next time that Trego entered the list was when I was introduced to him in the bank, of little importance in itself, but worth a great deal when connected with the fact that Trego left Manila in theKut Sangand in charge of the ship, to the amazement of even Captain Riggs.
"Trego killed." As I put that down it flashed upon me that he had been struck down before he had told Captain Riggs why he had papers as supercargo—and a few minutes after he had shown that he was suspicious of Meeker!
I was baffled and realized that it was a waste of effort to attempt to theorize about the snarled web in which I found myself enmeshed. One thing was apparent enough, and that was Meeker did his best to keep me out of theKut Sang, as he said, and I reached the conclusion that it was not me so much as the steamer which concerned him when he sought to divert my path from the vessel. If I had taken his broad hints in Manila I would have cancelled my ticket and probably never seen him again.
There was little comfort in proving that my own blunder had led me into such a mess. I threw the pencil down and sat on the edge of the lower berth. My anger was giving way to alarm. I began to realize that perhaps being a prisoner was the safest for me while on the steamer, for if Meeker had brought about the death of Trego because the supercargo suspected him, why should he not attempt to kill me after what I had said about him to Captain Riggs?
I remembered that he had shown concern when I offered to tell Riggs about him—he was ready to strike me down on the spot, and his plea that I might attack him was made more for the purpose of having me put out of reach of the captain than for his own protection. I was still a passenger, even though confined to my room, and he knew that I might find an opportunity to tell my story to Riggs.
At least I was safe for the night, and I knew nothing could be done in the way of explaining things to Riggs before morning. I decided that I would ask for paper and write a brief account of Meeker and Petrak for him and let him judge for himself.
I blew out the lamp and opened the port, but hooked it so that the heavy brass-rimmed glass acted as a shield for me as I lay in the upper berth. I had no desire to have a pistol thrust through the port while I was asleep, and after what had happened I was ready to see danger in anything.
The steamer was well to sea, and there was a stiff breeze blowing, which made her pitch and roll heavily. Her beams and joints groaned every time she bucked into a sea, and the wash at her freeboard and the spray breaking on the deck outside made a great racket. Her old engines jolted and jarred and vibrated every inch of theKut Sang, and I could hear the whir of the propeller as it lifted out of the water when her head plunged into a swell.
But although I tried to put everything out of my mind and get some sleep, my imagination conjured up possible situations for the next day conferences with Captain Riggs, fights with Meeker, a confession forced from Petrak that he had lied when he charged me with complicity in the murder.
I tumbled and tossed in my berth and counted a million sheep jumping a fence, worked at the multiplication table, and resorted to other devices to get into a doze, but every new creak, every groan of the straining timbers, kept me wide awake.
One of the most irritating noises was the grating of some object hanging on the bulkhead close to my head. I could not hear it when the vessel pitched, but when she took a long roll to starboard it rattled a second and then rasped along the board. Locating the sound in the dark, I groped along the planks to find the loose object, and my fingers came upon a small metal rod. I seized it and lifted it from a hook, and with the tips of my fingers found it to be a key!
Bounding out of my berth, I went to the door with it, certain that it was a spare key to the stateroom. Cautiously I tried it in the large, old-fashioned lock, and it turned back easily. I tried the knob, and the door swung inward.
I closed it again and debated for a minute what I should do, and, deciding that anything could not be worse than lying idle in a cell, made up my mind to venture out and call upon Captain Riggs if I could find him, or do a little spying on my own account to learn of any new development since I had been dismissed from the saloon and imprisoned.
I held the door open a few inches for several minutes and listened for some suspicious sound in the dark passageway. I remembered that Harris had said something about a guard at the door, but although I strained my eyes, in the darkness I could see no one. Each end of the passage was capped by a penumbra of dim light, for although the sky was overcast, the open air was not so dark as the intensified gloom of the passage.
My courage grew as I stood in the doorway, and I stepped out, closing the door silently and not locking it, but knotting the key in the string of my pajamas.
I listened for a minute at Meeker's door but heard nothing. His room was next to mine, but further aft, with one or more doors between his and where the passage gave on the open after-deck, Captain Rigg's room was on the same side, but away forward, under the end of the bridge, close to the open ladder which led down to the fore-deck.
In my bare feet I made no noise, and slowly made my way forward to see if there was a light in Captain Riggs's room. Before I had gone far I heard a murmur of voices, and then saw a sliver of light from the jamb of a door. There was a conversation going on in the captain's room, but I could not distinguish the voices. I went on to the forward end of the superstructure and discovered a port-hole in the captain's cabin partly open, and by going up three steps of the bridge-ladder I had a partial view of the room.
Captain Riggs was fully dressed, and sat at a shelf which dropped from the wall. He was sorting out papers, and Harris, the mate, was standing over him, talking.
"You must be mistaken, Mr. Harris," I heard the captain say.
"Make me third cook if I be!" exclaimed Harris, who seemed to be in an irritable mood. "I know what I'm talking about, cap'n! I run my thumbnail along the edges of it."
"Sally Ann's black cat, Mr. Harris!"
"All I ask ye to do, cap'n, is come down and have a look at it for yerself. That's what this is all about I'm tellin' ye! We got somethin' on our hands, I tell ye! We've got to do somethin' about it right away or we'll have more trouble. What if the crew smells a rat?"
"You got a little too excited about that murder, Mr. Harris. I'd know all about that. The owners wouldn't send me to sea with such as you say, and say nothing to me, nor the charter party, either. They'd use a liner and about forty men for anything like that. I'm crazy enough now, what with this murder and mess, without getting myself stirred up over anything like that. You better get some sleep. We'll find in the morning that you made a mistake."
"But I had a light on it!" insisted Harris. "It's thar, I tell ye, and I made sure. I don't come botherin' of ye with no cock-and-bull story like this unless I know. I held a bull's-eye light on it and it showed plain as Cape Cod Light. One of them chists got sprung, and I thought maybe I'd made a mistake when I put the light on it, but when I rubbed my thumbnail on it I knew I was right. I know the feel, I tell ye. Every cussed one of 'em is the same, too."
"I tell you, Mr. Harris, I've had tomfoolery enough for one night, and I ain't going down in the hold and dig around in cargo and get the crew suspicious. They are stirred up enough as it is with what's gone on to-night, and I guess that's what ails you."
"Cuss it all, Cap'n Riggs!" exclaimed Harris in exasperation. "Ye ought to know I don't get gallied for a little blood spilled. I slep' in a bunk all one night in theMartha Pillsburywith a man what didn't have any head and never turned a hair. Ye know that old barkentine whaler that Cap'n Peabody sold. Dang it all, cap'n, that is what this man Trego come aboard as he did—that's what he was here fer. It come down at the last minute and he bossed the job of gettin' it aboard.
"Wouldn't let a man touch it, but had his own chinks from shore-side get it aboard with slings from the davits, and watched 'em stow it in the storeroom. It ain't in the hold. When I come across the key to the room I made up my mind I'd have a look at it. Tinned milk! Marked tinned milk! I say tinned milk hell! I wash my hands o' the whole cussed mess if ye don't look at it and see for yerself.
"I don't want the responsibility, and we've got to take some precaution. That's what the killin' was for, and I'll bet a clipper-ship to a doughnut-hole that writin' chap Trenhum knows about it, and he ain't no writin' chap, neither. Thar has been bad business, and there'll be more from what's below, mark my words. Come below and look at it."
"You looked it over in good shape with a light," said Captain Riggs, evidently in doubt as to what he should do. "It ought to be on the manifest, you know, Mr. Harris."
"Cuss the manifest! It's down as machinery and marked tinned milk. What more ye want? They got things switched somehow, and that's plain as the nose on yer face. I had my thumb on it, I tell ye."
"Then, if that is true, it explains why Mr. Trego was so mysterious, and why he wanted to be a passenger to the others. That's what he was aboard for, right enough, and like as not he would have told me if he had been left alive long enough. It don't strike me reasonable that he'd keep anything like that from me—not with the way things are going these days. The master of the vessel ought to know in a case like that, and a scraped-up crew." Riggs began to button his coat.
"Of course that was what he was so close-jawed for, and that's why the owners was so close-jawed. Like as not they didn't know—charter was for cargo, and they didn't bother their head about that part of it. Some sort of a sneak game about it, of course, but we've got to mind our P's and Q's now.
"The owners nor the charter party can't help us none with it now, say I, and as master ye're got to do as ye see fit. All this monkey-business to-night comes from it. I don't like the passengers and I don't like these new whites in the crew. They know one another, I'm tellin' ye. The long chap and Buckrow sailed with Petrak. They pretend they don't know one another—all bosh—thick as fleas when no one is a watchin' of 'em.
"See how Buckrow was so smart handin' over his knife to the red chap when he got in a jam? I say, where did we git them three jewels—the writin' chap brought the little red killer, and the parson brought the long fellow and Buckrow. Looks funny to me, cap'n—and we don't want no Devil's Admiral aboard of us."
"Mr. Harris!" exclaimed Captain Riggs getting to his feet, "you are not fool enough to believe stories about the Devil's Admiral, are you? That's all newspaper talk and water-front gossip."
"I ain't so doggone sure about that, cap'n—bein' gossip. Of course, I don't suspect nothin' like that aboard here, but from what Chips Akers told me before he died, after the loss of theSouthern Cross, I'm not so sure this devil's-admiral talk is all folderol. Chips couldn't tell much before he went under, but theSouthern Crosswas boarded by the Devil's Admiral sure enough—didn't they find a sextant out of her in a store in Shanghai?
"Ships that go down in typhoons don't have their chronometers pop up in Shanghai a year later, I'm tellin' ye. There ain't nobody ever saw this here Devil's Admiral, sure enough, that lived to tell it, but ships don't always go down in deep water and never a boat got off or a life-preserver or a spar or a door found on the beach.
"Thar's been bloody work in the last three or four years in these waters—look at theLegaspi; never a man jack out of her, and sailed from Manila, as we did, for Hong-Kong, and never heard of. Steamer she was, too, right in the steamer-lanes. They say the Devil's Admiral got her, and I more'n half believe it."
"Sally Ann! Sally Ann!" said Captain Riggs. "I guess I better go down, Mr. Harris, and look this thing over and get it off yer mind, or ye'll be fretting yerself and losing sleep with such yarns running wild in yer top-piece. I don't like this night prowling a mite, but take the bull's-eye along, and never a bit of light until we are in the storeroom.
"I don't want the crew hugging our heels on this trip below, 'cause ye may be right about it, at that. Be sure the slide is shut in that lantern, and call the boy to watch for us. Be sure that glim is doused—I don't want anybody to know about this."
I slipped off the ladder and clung to the superstructure out of the range of the light which spurted from the open door as Harris came out. He went aft for Rajah, and when he returned in a minute Captain Riggs was standing at the head of the fore-deck ladder waiting for them. Harris whispered something, and I saw the three figures descend to the fore-deck and heard them enter the companionway to the lower deck. I followed them.