Garth appeared to be a seaman of no mean order. With the charts spread out before them he and the skipper promptly became immersed in a maze of technicalities. My ignorance of matters nautical is abysmal; and I listened in some bewilderment to talk of winds and tides and channels, of soundings and of reefs. I can reconstruct the scene now—the prelude to so many strange adventures!—as the three of us pored over the chart; the long, low chart-house with its clean smell of paint, the holland sun-blinds rattling smartly in the breeze which blew in through the open port-holes, Garth in his loose tussore suit, with his eager face and keen eyes, a fragrant cigar thrust in his mouth, Lawless, rather awed by the other and consequently a trifle formal, stubbing the chart with a huge and podgy thumb.
When they pulled down the big orange-coloured volume of "Sailing Directions" for the Eastern Pacific and opened the page at Cock Island, I could better follow them.
"'The island is mountainous,'" Garth read out in his pleasant, deep voice, "'and entirely volcanic, rising to several peaks, of which the highest reaches 2,856 feet. These peaks are probably volcanoes, but the interior is unexplored and almost impenetrable owing to its steep, rugged and often precipitous nature, the many rushing streams and the dense vegetation. There are small areas of comparatively level ground surrounding Sturt and Horseshoe Bays....'"
He turned the page and skipped a mass of detail.
"'There are only two harbours,'" he read, "'Sturt and Horseshoe Bays. Horseshoe Bay is larger than Sturt Bay but is less sheltered, as it opens to the west and so has a heavy swell during the early months of the year. Moreover, the slopes surrounding the bay are much more abrupt and the area of level land in its neighbourhood is much less considerable.'"
Adams, I recollected, had spoken of the man Dutchey and himself coming upon the grave in a clearing in the undergrowth close to the shore. He had mentioned, too, that their ship's boat had had to find a way in through the bar. It looked to me, therefore, as though they had landed in Horseshoe Bay where the upward slopes began closer to the shore than in Sturt Bay.
We read on. The island, it seemed, had never had any permanent population. It was "the resort of buccaneers in the seventeenth century, and later was a watering-place for whalers." It had "little animal life"; but there were wild pigs, descendants of those left by Captain Martin of the frigateRoverin 1774, and rats, introduced by calling ships. Mention had been made, we were told, by various explorers of huge carved images reputed to exist in the interior of the island, similar to those for which Easter Island is famous; but there was no certain knowledge of their existence.
There were a lot of particulars about attempts to colonise the island, of stray parties of mariners who had landed, with the intention of settling there; but in a year or two had gone away in a passing ship or died off. And there was a string of names, British and foreign, of naval men or of explorers who, landing to fill up with water or to kill some fresh meat, had jotted down a few observations about the island and then sailed away again across the boundless Pacific.
"And now, Okewood," said Garth pleasantly, "you and I and all of us, you know, are merely passengers on the high seas of Captain Lawless here, and with your permission I propose that we should tell him who you are and what you have just confided to me. You have no objection, I take it?"
"None whatever," said I.
"Then tell him yourself!" urged Garth, dropping on to the leather settee. So, sitting between the two on the softly padded seat, I unfolded my plan while the yacht gently swayed at her moorings, and the awnings without cracked like a whip in the breeze.
When I had finished, Garth said:
"You'll agree, I'm sure, that we can spare a week!"
"I'm entirely in your hands, Sir Alexander!" returned the captain. "But there is one condition I should like to make, and that is that this matter remains strictly between us three. I have a very decent lot of men as crew, Sir Alexander, hard-working, reliable chaps and every one personally known to me for years. I'd go so far as to say you've got the pick of the Solent in theNaomi. But this isn't a man-o'-war, gentlemen, nor yet even a merchant vessel. In a pleasure yacht like this there isn't rightly speaking the discipline that you'd find in either, and, to be plain-spoken, I don't want the major here to go upsetting the men with his treasure tales. Lay off at Cock Island, go ashore by all means, and have a 'look see' but don't, for God's sake, blab about it or you'll rot the finest crew that ever shipped! Let's keep this thing to ourselves; indeed, I'll go further than that. Leave me out of it! Then the men, should they hear anything, can't say that I'm in it while they are not! And to tell you the truth, gentlemen, I've had a strict upbringing, my people being chapel-goers, and I was taught to believe that no blessing rests on money that we have not earned with the sweat of our brow and the work of our strong right hand. You two gentlemen take your week ashore and I'll look after the ship!"
Garth turned to me.
"I don't want to leave Captain Lawless out," he said, "but I can't help feeling he's right about the crew!"
"And about everybody else on board, Sir Alexander!" Lawless broke in.
"You mean the women?"
"I meaneverybodyelse on board, just as I said, sir!" reiterated the skipper very firmly and with meaning. "What's everybody's secret is nobody's secret! Mum's the word or you'll have trouble! Mum's the word, I say!"
"Well!" said Garth, "so be it! Mum's the word!"
Then came an unlooked-for interruption.
"Why 'mum'? What's the secret?"
A clear young voice rang out from the door. The three of us scrambled hastily to our feet. On the threshold stood the girl of the smoke-room.
"Morning, Marjie!" said Garth.
He wore something of a hang-dog look. So did I, I think, as I did my best to secrete myself behind them. I was wondering what the girl would think of me when she discovered my involuntary deception. Fortunately Lawless's huge frame completely obliterated me.
"What are you two talking secrets about?" she demanded bluntly. "And why 'mum's the word'?"
Garth looked at Lawless and Lawless looked at Garth; but neither answered her question. Then she looked at the skipper. His air reminded me of a pickpocket caught red-handed.
"Good morning, Miss Garth!" he mumbled and made a stiff little bow. That bow was my undoing; for the captain disclosed me behind him.
"Oh!" cried the girl with a little gurgle of amusement, "it's the doctor! Well, did you take my advice?"
"Yes," I answered. Then, taking the plunge, I faltered:
"But I'm not the doctor...."
On that the girl coloured up a little. I knew what she was thinking of and our eyes met. I felt relieved to see the glint of humour creep into them.
Then Garth, who had turned to speak to the captain, broke in.
"I should have introduced you. Major, this is my daughter—Marjie, Major Okewood, who is coming as far as Honolulu with us. Would you see Carstairs about getting a cabin ready for him?"
With a graceful little nod to her father and a smile to me which had its hidden meaning for us two alone, Marjorie Garth went out again on to the sunlit deck. We three men plunged into our deliberations again and when at length the gong sounded for luncheon we had evolved a rough plan of campaign.
I told Garth quite frankly that the message found on the grave at Cock Island was so far unintelligible to me that I had no certainty of ever being able to decipher it. What I proposed to do, was to examine the grave and the island generally to see whether I could find anything on the spot to throw any light on the message. We arranged, therefore, that in reaching Cock Island, Garth and I should take a camping outfit and go ashore for a period not to exceed a week; that if at the end of that time, my investigations had led to no result I should abandon the enterprise and return with him to the yacht.
It was settled that we should sail that night, as soon as ever the spare parts required by Mr. Mackay, the engineer, were aboard; for I informed Garth of Bard's advice to me to make myself scarce without delay. The captain reckoned that, taking things easy, we should make Cock Island on the fifth day out. We finally decided to put ashore at Horseshoe Bay, as both Lawless and Garth agreed with me that this landing tallied best with the beach-comber's description.
As we crossed the deck to go down to the saloon the spare parts were being hoisted into the yacht from a barge. A hard-faced little man with a rasping Scottish accent, whom I took to be Mr. Mackay, the engineer, was in charge of the operation which was accompanied by some fine, full-flavoured swearing in broad Clydebank and a torrent of epileptic Latin American blasphemy from various parties unseen in the lighter. Small boats piled up to their thwarts with poultry, fruit, vegetables and bread, were bobbing about in a wide semi-circle about the yacht and the air rang with the shrill cries of the vendors.
As we passed the engineer the captain said: "You'll let none of this scum aboard, Mr. Mackay!"
"But the steward was wishful...."
"I don't give a hoot for the steward. I'll have none of these Dagoes aboard my ship. Have you got that clear?"
"Verra guid, sir!" replied the Scotsman resignedly.
I appreciated the skipper's motive and looked at him gratefully. I was beginning to have an admiration for Captain Lawless. Besides being a man of character he was plainly a person of quick perception.
It was now very hot. The pitch was soft in the seams of the deck and the broken white line of the port buildings on shore swam in a tremor of heat. It was a relief to escape from the dazzling sunlight into the shaded seclusion of the saloon, where two purring electric fans kept the atmosphere cool and ice tinkled melodiously in crystal jugs of cider cup.
The girl Marjorie was already seated at the table. With her demurely cropped brown hair gleaming golden where the sunshine touched it, her serene beauty and her white dress, she reminded me of some Florentine Madonna, the shining white port-hole like a halo framing her face against a background of deep azure sky.
"'Le Medecin malgré Lui'!" she exclaimed as I came in, "come and sit by me and tell me how you managed to captivate Daddy so completely! And I promise," she added, smiling up at me deliciously, "that I won't ask you for any more medical advice!"
The girl's attractive presence, the pleasant cool of the saloon, the quiet efficient service made it difficult for me to realise that, only a very few hours before, I had stumbled through blood into a dark and perilous adventure. As I looked into Marjorie Garth's friendly grey eyes, I found the present so attractive that it was no effort to me to thrust into the background the enigma of the future.
My adventure, I decided, was opening under the most pleasant auspices.
TheNaomiwas fitted out with the greatest luxury imaginable. She was not a large vessel, but she was so well designed that every inch of space was utilised. The cabin allotted to me was small but beautifully compact and tastefully furnished. There was a proper brass bedstead, not a bunk; pile carpet, silk curtains, silver-plated toilet fittings and an electric fan. My traps had been unpacked and my clothes stowed away in a cunningly contrived wardrobe. Carstairs, Garth's man, showed me where everything was. He was a nice, fresh-faced young fellow, of smart military appearance. He told me he had served in the war with the Royal Engineers.
Luncheon ended, Marjorie Garth left us to go and write letters to be sent ashore in the launch for posting. I repaired to my cabin to snatch a little sleep in the siesta hour; for I was very tired after our disturbed night. But though the gently whirring fan kept the atmosphere nicely cool and my bed invited repose, I could not sleep. Now that I was alone again, I found my thoughts continually recurring to the slip of oilsilk with its enigmatic message.
I have always found that short commons of sleep is an excellent mental tonic. Though I was physically worn out, my brain was alive and active and, pulling from my pocket the dead man's message (for so I designated it to myself) I fell to studying it with renewed zest.
I had it already by heart even to the bars of music (though for music I have little ear); but I read it over again. What absolute rot it sounded!
"Noon. 18/11/18."
I considered the date for an instant. Why, by November 18th, 1918, the war was over! The Armistice had been signed seven days earlier. And at once a light dawned on me. The dead man, I had surmised, had an appointment with someone at Cock Island, probably with El Cojo's gang. Realising that he was about to die the Unknown had left this message for his friends; but, probably knowing that an occasional ship touched at the island, he had coded his instructions to prevent them from falling into the wrong hands. The date of the message seemed to give the clue as to why his friends had failed to keep their appointment, so that the message had remained on the grave until it was found months later by Adams. The Armistice had been signed; Germany was beaten; and consequently the services of such obliging "neutrals" as El Cojo and Co. had abruptly ceased.
With growing excitement, for I felt certain that, this time, my deductions were not at fault, I read on:—
"Flash, flash, much"The garrison of Kiel"
This absolutely defeated me and I passed on.
"With the compass is best"Think of the Feast of Orders"
Der Ordensfest! Unconsciously, as I repeated the words to myself, the clean white panels of the cabin melted away, and there rose before my mind a dim picture, a study in grey, an outdoor scene across which swept the wintry wind with biting blast.... A leaden sky, grey buildings, their roofs deep-thatched with snow, and grey-clad troops, masses of them, set about a vast square. It was a blurred picture with, here and there, a detail clear, the rime glistening on an officer'spelisse, the plume of a helmet blown out in the icy breeze.... Ah! I had it! Berlin.... The Feast of Orders, with the annual ceremony of the so-called nailing of the Colours. I had seen it once, that famous winter parade, as a boy when my brother Francis and I had been on a visit to a cousin of ours, who was secretary at the Berlin Embassy....
But what did it mean in this connection? What had the Feast of Orders, the annual bestowal on the old Prussian bureaucracy of thousands of crosses and stars and medals, as an economical substitute for increases in salary, what had it to do with a compass?
Then it came to me with a flash.... A compass argued a compass bearing, and this bearing was there concealed in this phase! "Der Ordensfest!" Stay! The date. What was the date? And that came back to me too.... January 27th, "Kaisers Geburtstag," the Emperor's birthday.
By Jove! At last a beam of light was piercing the darkness.
Those two lines meant indubitably: "Take a compass bearing of 27 degrees!"
The next two lines:—
"Past the Sugar-Loaf"You'll see the Lorelei"
obviously referred to those "peaks" of which the "Sailing Directions" had spoken.
"If you desire the sweetheart."
Schätzchenwas the German word. But, ye gods,Schatzof whichSchätzchenis the diminutive, properly speaking, means "treasure"! By what form of physical and mental blindness had I been smitten to have failed to see this direct reference to treasure in the cipher?
The four bars of music brought me up with a jerk. I hummed the tune which I had strummed out on John Bard's piano. It seemed, as I said, vaguely familiar as a German ditty of the popular sort but what or where.... I....
On this I must have fallen asleep. I awoke with a start, as one does from an afternoon nap, and stared round blankly, trying to recollect where I was. There was a little sidelong motion in the cabin as the yacht rose and fell at anchor to the swell and the electric fan purred gently as it revolved. Someone was tapping at the door.
"Come in!" I cried and Carstairs put his face in.
"Sir Alexander begs pardon for disturbing you, sir," the man said, "but could you make it convenient to go to him at once in his cabin? He said as how it was urgent...."
"Of course. Tell Sir Alexander I'll be with him immediately."
Garth had a little suite at the far end of the saloon consisting of a small state-room, very handsomely furnished, with sleeping apartment and bath off it. I found him seated in a swivel-chair at his desk in conversation with a dark young man, his face yellowed from the tropics, in a creased white duck suit.
"Ah, major," said the baronet, "I'm sorry to have had to spoil your forty winks. But a rather curious thing has happened. They're getting a warrant out against you for murder. The British Vice-Consul here has been good enough to come off and give us the tip...."
"It's a most singular thing," said the Vice-Consul. "Last night a poor white, a drunken Englishman who lived with a negress in the native quarter, had his throat cut. He was a worthless creature, called himself Adams; I knew him well. In fact, it's only about a fortnight ago that we threw him out of the Consulate. Well, an information has been laid against you by two citizens who swear that they saw you leave this man Adams's shack in the early hours of the morning.
"Now in the ordinary way nobody in Rodriguez makes any bones about a plain murder like this. But our friend Adams—or his black lady who, incidentally, was also killed—seemed to have had some amazing political pull. The Procurator-General of the Republic in person came down to the office half an hour ago to see me about it. He seemed scared out of his life, told me he would certainly lose his job unless he could produce you for trial. Now——"—the Vice-Consul cleared his throat and drew hard on the black cigar he was smoking, "I don't know anything about you, major, or your business,"—he looked sharply at me, "and I'm not inquiring. But I do know that, while straightforward murder in Rodriguez is scarcely a penal offence, dabbling in politics is a very serious matter. What I came off to tell you was to beat it while the going's good.... That's all!"
"It's extremely kind of you to have taken the trouble," I replied, "and I highly appreciate your discretion in the matter. But surely, if the warrant is out, it will be served at once. After all, we're within the three-mile limit...."
The Vice-Consul waved his hand.
"In this illustrious Republic," he remarked dryly, "no business of any description is ever done in the siesta hours. Even during our periodical revolutions there's a truce every day between noon and 4 p.m. But you'll want to hurry; for, as soon as it cools off, you'll have a bunch of coffee-coloured dons alongside in the harbour-master's launch!"
"I'll see about getting under way at once!" said Garth, and hastened out.
The Vice-Consul picked up his panama and approached me. He looked cautiously about him and lowered his voice as he spoke.
"I'm risking my job by doing this," he said, "for the Consul's down with fever and I'm acting on my own responsibility. But Bard was telling us about you at the Club, about your D.S.O. and that in the war, and it's the least a fellow can do who didn't fight—I'm rotten through and through with malaria, you know—to help a chap who did. Now, listen! You're in great danger. You've run up against the biggest bunch of crooks in Central America...."
"You mean El Cojo and his gang?"
"Aye...."
"Who is this man, El Cojo?"
"No one knows. No one ever sees him. No one knows where he lives. Some say he is a Mexican. But his power is tremendous and his vengeance swift and terrible. I could tell you stories.... You should be safe on this yacht. But take my advice and don't leave it until you can go ashore under the American or the British flag!"
He gave me his hand.
"I shan't forget this service," I said warmly, "if there's anything I can ever do in return...."
"Well," he answered slowly, "I was recommended for the M.B.E. once. But the F.O. turned it down. If you had any influence...."
"If Sir Robert is still my friend," I assured him, "you shall have it. And perhaps it might be an O.B.E. Write me down your name and address...."
As we emerged on the deck the crew were busy getting the yacht ready for sea. There was a bit of commotion at the gangway. Garth and Captain Lawless stood at the head of the ladder in animated conversation with a very trim young man, beautifully dressed in spotless white drill.
"Hullo," said the Vice-Consul, "it's Custrin, your new doctor!"
"It's no good," Garth was saying as we approached the group, "we'll have to be away in ten minutes, doctor, and there's so much work going forward on deck that your friends would only be in the way...."
"But, sir," the young man urged, "they need only stay for a minute. As distinguished residents of Rodriguez they wished to have the honour of meeting you, of showing you courtesy. They set great store by such things here and if you refuse I'm very much afraid they'll take it amiss...."
I glanced over the side. In a row-boat at the foot of the ladder sat three swarthy gentlemen in frock-coats, their large dark eyes turned appealingly up to the deck of theNaomi.
"You'll tell your friends," said the baronet, "how much I appreciate their great attention and how much I regret that circumstances prevent me from receiving their visit on board. Captain Lawless, the Vice-Consul's launch!"
Lawless gave an order and while the doctor descended the ladder and spoke to the party in the boat, the Vice-Consul took his leave and boarded his launch.
Five minutes later theNaomi, curtseying to the long green swell, pointed her bows towards the fronded headlands which marked the entrance to the harbour. As we passed out between the bluffs, the dull report of a gun drifted out to us over the freshening breeze. At the same moment, in a smother of spray, a launch came tearing out of the port, a mere speck in the shimmering green sea far astern.
At my side on the bridge, Garth laughed.
"Here comes the warrant!" he said. "Captain, is that launch back yonder going to overhaul us?"
Lawless took his freckled hand off the engine-room telegraph and looked back.
"Huh!" he grunted, "not on this side of hell. Or any other!"
It was not until dinner that evening that I had the opportunity of meeting Dr. Custrin. TheNaomiwas steaming along amid the gorgeous pageantry of sunset and the warm glow of the dying day was warring with the soft lights of the electric candles on the dinner-table when I came in to the saloon. Garth introduced me to the doctor. He was a sleek, smooth young man with hair like black satin and a beautifully trained small black moustache. His hands and feet were small and well-made and there would have been a touch of effeminacy about him but for his otherwise manly bearing, his bold black eyes and pleasant voice. A certain narrowness of the eyes and a curl of the nostrils told me, who have an eye for such things, that, probably, as his name indicated, he was of Jewish extraction. In conversation I elicited that he had been born in Mauritius, educated at Cape Town, and had taken his degree at King's College Hospital in London. Garth's New York office it appeared, had picked him up at Colon where he was studying Colonel Goethals' wonderful arrangements for the extermination of yellow fever and malaria.
Lawless and Mackay, the chief engineer, a sententious Scot, who opened his mouth only to utter a platitude or to put food or drink into it, dined with us. Garth made me sit next to Marjorie who looked ravishing in a white lace evening frock.
"Put the two war veterans together!" the baronet commanded. "My little girl here," he explained to me, "drove a car at the front. She has the Military Medal."
"Daddy!" expostulated Marjorie and a warm flush coloured her cheeks.
"I would never have given my consent," Garth added, "but she just didn't ask me for it!"
"My dear old thing," said the girl. "You make me look ridiculous by bragging about my silly little trips around the bases when I'm sure Dr. Custrin or Major Okewood saw a hundred times more of the war than I ever did!"
"I never got out of the base at the Cape," said the doctor. "The East African campaign kept us too busy for anybody to be spared."
"And I," was my retort, "never went back to France after the Somme!"
"Were you wounded?" asked Garth.
"Badly?" questioned Marjorie in reply to my nod.
"Nothing to write home about," I answered. "When I came out of hospital I went into the Intelligence."
"How fearfully thrilling!" exclaimed the girl. "Wasn't it frightfully exciting?"
"It wasn't the front," I replied.
After dinner on the deck under a vast span of velvet sky spangled with stars I found myself alone with Marjorie Garth. A broad band of yellow light shone out from the smoke-room where the others sat and talked over their coffee. Above us on the bridge the form of the man at the wheel bulked black.
We strolled up and down in silence. For myself I was quite overcome by the majesty of the tropical night at sea.
"The Intelligence," asked Marjorie suddenly, "that's the Secret Service, isn't it?"
"Yes," I agreed.
"You were very modest about it at dinner," she remarked.
I shrugged my shoulders.
"I only stated the plain truth," I returned. "In the fighting troops, remember, every fifth man became a casualty and three months was the average run of the platoon officer!"
"Yet," commented the girl, "you seem like a man who has been in tight places. I shouldn't say to look at you that you've had a placid or easy existence. Like mine, for instance. Sometimes I think it's only men of action like you who know how to grapple with life. Can you imagine me in an emergency for instance?"
"Yes," I said. "I believe I can. You've got a brave eye, Miss Garth. I think one can judge people's temperaments, as one judges horses, by the eye."
She shook her head and laughed.
"What does this sort of life teach anybody? This beautiful ship, these well-trained sailors, the splendid service that Daddy's money can buy? My dear man, it's no good flattering me about my brave eye. Money makes a solid barrier between my life and any really thrilling crisis! I shall be kept in cotton-wool till the end of the chapter."
"What a strange person you are!" I exclaimed. "Girls of your age with your position and your.... your.... attractions don't find time for philosophising as a rule. You ought to be enjoying your youth instead of meditating about life. I don't mean to be inquisitive; but.... are you unhappy?"
We had halted near the rail. We were standing very close together and I felt the touch of her warm young body against my arm.
She turned and looked at me. Again I told myself that this girl was the most beautiful, the most unspoiled creature I had ever met.
"I've only once been thoroughly happy," she answered rather wistfully, "and that was when I was with the army in France. I loved the romance, the adventure of it all, the good comradeship not only between the women but also between the men and the women. Money wasn't everything then. I was an individual with my own personality, my own friends. But what am I now? The daughter of Garth, the millionaire. And they print my picture in the weekly papers because one day I shall have a great deal of money which Daddy has worked all his life to make. I've never had any brothers and sisters and my mother has been dead for years. I've had to live my whole life with money as my companion. And money's not a bit companionable!"
She smiled whimsically at me, then gazed down abstractedly at the phosphorescent water thumping against the side of the ship.
"This yacht!——" she went on. "I have everything a girl could possibly require here—everything except my freedom!"
"Good Lord!" I observed, "you'll have that too, when you marry! You've plenty of time for that!"
Marjorie Garth laughed.
"My dear man," she protested, "don't you know it's easier to marry off a girl with no money than one who will have as much as I shall? To Daddy every young man I meet is a fortune-hunter. If I run a boy home from the golf-club in my car I am cross-questioned regarding his 'intentions'; if a man takes me out dancing in the afternoon there's a scene. And Daddy's taste in men is vile; I'm not alluding to you—I mean at home! But I've no use for the second generation of millionaires and I've told Daddy so. I'd rather marry a beggar than some of the rich men's sons he tries to throw in my way...."
Lucky beggar, I thought.
"I don't know why I've told you all this," the girl concluded. "You seem to draw me out. Or perhaps it's the night. Oh, look! Wish!"
A star fell gleaming across the sky.
"I have," I said; (it was one of those idle wishes which a poor man must not admit even to himself).
"Was it about your trip to Cock Island?"
"I'll lose my wish if I tell!" I replied. "As a matter of fact it was not!"
Suddenly she put a warm soft hand on mine. Her touch made my heart beat faster.
"Is it a Secret Service mission?" she asked.
Caution is second nature to a man who has served his apprenticeship in the silent corps. In that balmy air, beneath a brilliant moon hanging like some great lamp in the sky, it was hard to refuse a woman's pleading, especially a girl like this, bending forward with sparkling eyes and parted lips so close to me that I could detect the fragrance of her hair. I put my other hand over hers as it rested on mine on the rail.
"You can trust me," she pleaded. "I am sure there is something mysterious about your trip to this tiny island. I know you are not going on Government survey" (this was the pretext which Garth had given out for my visit to Cock Island) "for the Navy always do that sort of work. Tell me your secret!"
I had to catch hold of myself; for she was almost irresistible. I looked away from her, steeling myself to a refusal. What I might have done I cannot say for what man can account for actions performed under the magic of the tropical moon? But at that moment my nose detected the scent of a cigarette quite close.
I glanced quickly round. To all appearances we were alone. Behind us the white smoke stack of theNaomireared itself into the night; on either hand the deck was quite deserted; the only human being visible was the black form of the man at the wheel silhouetted against the faint glow of the binnacle light. But the acrid fragrance of Turkish tobacco stole up my nostrils and the possibility of a listener within earshot brought me swiftly back to earth.
"I'm afraid there's no mystery about my little jaunt," said I, turning to the girl, "you know all there is to know!"
I spoke as nonchalantly as possible. But I would not meet the reproachful gaze she turned upon me. Then she snatched her hand away.
"I'm afraid you must think me horribly inquisitive!" she observed coldly.
There was a footstep on the deck. Dr. Custrin stood behind us. Between his fingers a cigarette sent up a little spiral of blue smoke; across his arm he carried a shining silver wrap.
"Sir Alexander asked me to tell you to put this round your shoulders," he said to Marjorie and unfolded the silver scarf. "The wind is freshening."
The girl drew the wrap about her shoulders. The doctor looked at the two of us.
"What a wonderful night!" he remarked. "In these latitudes the moon seems to exercise a strange influence upon us. For example, your father has been telling me the whole story of his early life, Miss Garth, and I believe I have been unbosoming my aspirations and ambitions to him. But confidences under the moon one is apt to regret in the morning, eh, major?"
He spoke perfectly suavely and with no trace of impertinence in his manner. But there was a hint of double meaning in his words (which clearly indicated that he had overheard at any rate the end of our conversation) that jarred on me.
"You need have no fears about Major Okewood," replied Marjorie with just the faintest touch of scorn in her voice. "I am sure he is the pattern of discretion. I think," she added, "I am feeling the tiniest bit chilly. You promised to play for me, doctor. Won't you come into the saloon? There is a piano there!"
Her gaze travelled proudly past me as she turned to Custrin. She made it as clear as was compatible with the laws of hospitality that her invitation did not include me. It was her woman's way of getting her own back. I loved her for it; but I took a violent dislike to Custrin.
I mumbled some excuse about having to go to the chart-room and they left me. Presently from the saloon came the rhythmic strains of theRosen-Kavalier, most sensual, most entrancing, of all Strauss's music, played with a master-hand. TheLiebestod, Grieg, Massenet'sAir des Larmes, Schumann—Custrin ran from one to the other while theNaomistolidly thumped her way through the hissing sea. And always, curse his impudence! the fellow played love-music....
One by one members of the crew drifted to the head of the companion-way until there was quite a company of them outlined against the yellow light that shone up from the cosy saloon. I remained leaning against the rail, my chin on my chest, my pipe in my mouth, and let my thoughts drift.... Adams coughing over his pannikin, John Bard, his honest face troubled, looking round that house of death, the yellow-faced Vice-Consul pulling on his black cigar.
But always I found my mind harking back to that ungainly silhouette framed in the doorway of the hut and to the sinister echo of his footsteps in the yard as the stranger turned his back on the scene of slaughter which, I doubted not, had been of his contriving. What had the Vice-Consul said? "His power is tremendous, his vengeance swift and terrible!" Who was this lame man whom nobody saw yet whom everybody feared? There was something of the insistence of a nightmare in the way in which the glimpse I had had of him hung in my thoughts, confounding itself with the ineffaceable image of that club-footed man whom I had seen fall lifeless—how many years ago it seemed now!—before my brother's smoking automatic. Well, whoever El Cojo was, Mexican or South American, I was out of his clutches now. The rail of theNaomi, quivering beneath my hand to the leap of the seas, gave me confidence. I knocked the ashes out of my pipe and went below.
The weather continued magnificent. The barometer on the chart-house wall was high and steady, the sea like a sheet of painted glass. On board theNaomithe perfect luxury, the admirable efficiency of the service might have led one to fancy oneself at Cowes but for the boundless expanse of the Pacific surrounding us. The sun-burnt faces, the natty white caps and the spotless white drill of the crew, the brass-work polished until the blaze of the fierce sun upon it made the eyes ache, the long chairs set out invitingly under the striped deck awnings—it all brought back Regatta Week to me so vividly that I sometimes imagined one had only to look over the ship's side to see the boats setting down the visitors at the Squadron steps.
There were deck quoits, shuffleboard and various other ship's games for our amusement. But it was too hot for violent exercise. The men rigged up a huge canvas bath, contrived out of a mainsail, in the bows forward, and here, each morning before breakfast, Garth, Custrin and I used to disport ourselves like young seals in their tank at the Zoo. For the rest, the day passed very pleasantly with a little gossip, a little music, a little bridge. We three men, following a custom which Garth had established, took our trick at the wheel and when Custrin had finished his watch, Marjorie reported for duty and proved herself the best helmsman of us all.
As a matter of fact, I had no time to be bored. I spent many hours in the chart-house with Garth and Lawless settling the details of our contemplated expedition. There was, in truth, much to plot out and arrange. The captain was more emphatic than ever against the idea of anybody beyond us three being let into the secret of the treasure-hunt. In fact, as our discussions proceeded, he showed himself increasingly reluctant to grant us as long as a week on the island.
"It's asking too much, Sir Alexander," he said, shaking his red head, "to expect the crew to remain cooped up in the yacht in sight of green land and not a man allowed ashore. I might hold 'em in hand for a couple of days; but after that it will be difficult, very difficult, as well you and the major here must know!"
It was Garth, with his quick business mind, who made the suggestion which solved the problem. Raising his head from the chart which he had been studying while Lawless, in an aggrieved tone, was presenting his case, he said:—
"I've got it. You can maroon us!"
"Maroon you?" repeated the captain in a puzzled voice.
"Aye! Dump us ashore and then take the yacht to Alcedo!"
Alcedo, he explained to us with chart and "Sailing Directions," was an islet lying some ninety miles west of Cock Island, a small, uninhabited rock, the home of seabirds of all kinds.
"You can get some shooting," Sir Alexander added, "and, if the 'Sailing Directions' speak true, good fishing. There's a fair landing on the north face, it says here, and a run ashore will do the men all the good in the world. You won't have above two or three days at the most at the rock before it will be time to put about and sail back and fetch us off!"
Lawless raised various objections, all of which did him the greatest credit. He didn't like leaving us. Suppose something happened to theNaomi? But Garth swept all objections aside. Then Lawless played his last trump.
"And what about Miss Garth?" he queried. "How will she like leaving you ashore on an uninhabited island? Or do you propose to take her with you?"
Garth rubbed his nose rather sheepishly.
"H'm," he mused. Then, "Okewood," he remarked, "this will be a little difficult. How about taking Marjie ashore at Cock Island with us?"
But I promptly negatived this idea.
"Out of the question," I retorted. "We're going to rough it, Sir Alexander. And it will be no life for your daughter. Why, we aren't even taking a servant!"
Garth jibbed at that. It would be bad enough leaving Marjie, he grumbled, and how he would face her he didn't know. But he must have his man with him. He must have Carstairs. In that I was inclined to support him. I had taken a fancy to Carstairs. I liked his honest, sensible face; he knew Garth and his ways; besides, he seemed a knowledgeable sort of chap and I had an idea that his experience with the sappers in the war might prove uncommonly useful when we pitched our little camp. It was ultimately decided that Carstairs should accompany us.
Then Garth suggested that we should take Custrin as well.
"Capital fellow, the doctor," he remarked, "what the Americans call a good mixer. I like Custrin. And he'll be useful, you know, Okewood, in the case of snake-bite or anything like that, eh?"
Now, as I have explained, I hadn't particularly cottoned to Custrin. Since that first night out he had made famous progress with Marjorie and while Garth and I were sweltering in the hold, assembling equipment and supplies for our expedition, she and the doctor had sat for hours at the piano in the saloon. I have always tried to be honest with myself and I may as well admit that I was envious of Custrin's delightfully easy manner. He was never gauche or sheepish with Marjorie and I knew what a boor she had set me down in her estimation.
So I demurred from the proposal of Sir Alexander. The party was big enough, I urged; to add another mouth would mean seriously increasing the amount of supplies we should have to take with us.
"But Custrin's a first-class geologist as well," pleaded the baronet, "and his knowledge should prove most valuable in our quest!"
I felt a very unpleasant suspicion dawn within me. Was it possible that Garth had told Custrin about the grave on the island and the clue that lay in my letter-case?
"Have you told Custrin about the treasure?" I asked bluntly.
Garth looked decidedly uncomfortable.
"The doctor's a most reliable fellow and highly recommended, very highly recommended to me. You can see his references if you wish, major. He is quite one of us, you know, and I did not think there was any harm.... Really, I think he'd be a distinct asset. Besides, he'll be horribly disappointed now if we don't take him!"
Then, of course, I knew that Garth had told Custrin the whole story and had definitely promised him into the bargain that he should join our party. I remembered now that the two had been in the smoke-room alone together for an hour or more after lunch. I breathed a little prayer of thanksgiving that in my almost wholly Irish nature a little store, an isolated stronghold, as it were, of caution, legacy of some unknown ancestor, was included. Throughout my career in the Secret Service I have made it a practice, when disclosure is necessary, to disclose only as much as is absolutely essential to the business in hand. My brother Francis, probably the greatest secret agent our country has ever had, gave me this tip.
Accordingly, I had told Garth nothing of El Cojo, the man of mystery, of his appearance at Adams's hut or of the Vice-Consul's warning. Apart altogether from this cautious instinct of mine, I knew next to nothing of this romantic cut-throat, and until I did I had no intention of jeopardising my chances of sailing with Garth by alarming the owner of theNaomi. I now realised that everything I might have told Garth about El Cojo, the baronet would have inevitably passed on to the doctor.
As for Custrin, I had nothing whatever against him. But he was a stranger—and in our job, if we don't necessarily "'eave 'arf a brick" at the stranger, we are exceedingly cold to him. Custrin was a perfectly civil, unassuming Englishman; but in my career I have refused confidence to many a fellow-countryman far more patently trustworthy than he. His rather mixed upbringing would, for one thing, have prompted me to wariness and Garth's ready confidence in him really rather horrified me. I was quite determined not to have him on the island with me and I said so as frankly as possible. On that, with rather an ill-grace, Garth capitulated.
TheNaomicarried a small camp equipment with two light and portable Armstrong huts in sections. There was a fold-up camp bedstead for Garth, while I had my battered old Wolseley valise and my flea-bag from France. In addition to our provisions, such as biscuits, tinned food of all kinds, groceries and a suitable stock of drinks including a case of soda-water, we added, as general stores, some electric torches, a couple of ship's lamps and a good supply of candles, a large picnic basket, some mosquito netting, a medicine chest, a couple of axes, and two spades and two picks which Lawless extracted from the stokehold. There were kitchen utensils for Carstairs, who, it appeared, was an excellent cook. Garth had a pair of shot-guns and a Winchester and the three of us had an automatic pistol apiece. This constituted our armoury. I thought of those "volcanic peaks" of which the "Sailing Directions" spoke and sighed for a box of gun-cotton, a tube of primers and some lengths of fuse such as we used to carry with the battery in France. But well-equipped as she was, theNaomidid not run to H.E.
This happened on our third day out of Rodriguez. At dinner that evening the captain announced that, if all went well, we ought to sight Cock Island about dawn two days hence.
*****
In the chart-house that evening Custrin pleaded with me to reconsider my decision not to take him ashore with us. I told him as nicely as possible that all our arrangements were made and could not now be altered. He then asked me to let him see the message. Now I had not shown this to Garth (nor to anybody else except Bard) nor had I vouchsafed to our host any information whatever on the subject. I was still very largely in the dark as to its meaning and I was appreciative of Garth's tact in not pressing me on the subject. So I told Custrin that I was still working on the message and was not showing it to anybody just then.
"I'm sorry," he said at once, "I didn't mean to be tactless, Okewood. But I'm a pretty fair hand at languages, French or Spanish or Dutch or German and that kind of thing, you know. I thought I might be useful. Or perhaps it's in cipher?"
Custrin's affectation of nonchalance was very well done. But I have had so much of this kind of spell-binding tried on me in my time that I detected without difficulty a little note of anxiety in his voice. A very inquisitive young man, was my mental note. But aloud I said:—
"Thanks for the offer, doctor. I'll bear it in mind. When I think two heads are better than one on this thing I'll let you know!"
That was straight enough, one would have thought. But he was a persistent beggar, was Custrin. I'm dashed if he didn't get Garth to tackle me. Our worthy host's rather elephantine attempts at diplomacy, however, were not difficult to counter and I had my way about keeping the message to myself without, I think, offending hisamour propre. I should have dismissed the incident from my mind but for a strange and rather disquietening event which took place the following night.
I had gone below, preparatory to turning in, after another disastrous encounter with Marjorie. When I came off the bridge after taking my turn at the wheel, I found her standing alone at the rail. Since our little passage at arms the first night out, while she had not ostensibly avoided me, she had not given me the opportunity of anothertête-à-tête. Her father, it appeared, had told her that she could not go ashore with us on Cock Island and she wanted me, as leader of the expedition, to intercede with him.
We were going to rough it on the island and a woman would have been impossible. And so I told her. I also thought it quite likely that the surf-bar mentioned by Adams (one always finds something of the sort round isolated islets like this) would make landing dangerous and we should be lucky, I surmised, if we escaped with nothing worse than a good soaking.
Marjorie was at first pleading, then indignant and at last angry. There was a good deal of the plethoric temperament of her father in the toss of her head with which, in disgust at my obstinacy, she turned and left me on the deck. And I, feeling the criminal every man feels when he has displeased a charming girl, slunk below to my bunk.
I had changed into pyjamas when Custrin, who had the cabin next to mine, put his head in the door.
"I'm just going up to get a 'peg,'" he said. "You look as though you could do with one yourself. Shall I bring you one down?"
A drink was emphatically what I needed in the frame of mind in which I found myself, so I gratefully accepted his offer.
"And make it a stiff one!" I called out after him. Then Carstairs, who had been working like a Trojan all the evening, packing, oiling guns and greasing boots, fetched me away to the little sort of pantry-place at the end of the flat which was his especial domain, to consult me about the clothes I was taking. When I got back to my cabin my drink in a long glass stood on the chest of drawers. There was no sign of Custrin.
Carstairs, in shirt and trousers, was simply dripping with perspiration. He looked absolutely all in.
"Here," I said, "you seem to be more in need of a 'peg' than I am, Carstairs. Suppose you take hold of that glass and show what you can do with it!"
The offer was scarcely in accordance with the discipline of theNaomiand Carstairs glanced cautiously up and down the corridor before he seized the glass and with a whispered "Here's luck, sir!" drained it.
*****
I don't know how long I had been asleep when I awoke with the impression that my cabin door had opened. Then I remembered, with a flash, that on going to lock it as usual before getting into my bunk I had found the key to be missing. I had searched the floor of the cabin and the corridor for it in vain. Carstairs had turned in and I was loath to disturb him after his heavy day.
There was no moon on this night and my cabin was quite dark. TheNaomitrembled to the thump of the propeller and at the wash-basin some fitting or other rattled a merry little jig. Otherwise, all was still. I was about to turn over on my side and go to sleep again when a slight noise caught my ear. My hand flashed instantly to the electric switch and the cabin was flooded with light.
Custrin stood in the doorway. He was in his pyjamas, bare-footed. His eyes were closed and one hand rested on the chest of drawers just inside the door. He was muttering to himself. As I sprang out of my bunk he turned round and, still muttering, made his own way back to his room next door.
I dashed after him. The corridor was quite dark and by the time I had found the switch in Custrin's cabin, the doctor was in his berth, to all intents and purposes sleeping peacefully.
"Trust all men; but cut the pack!" is a favourite saying of my brother Francis. With that document in my possession I had no desire to be disturbed by surprise visitors, even though they walked in their sleep. I now blamed myself for my slackness in not making Carstairs find the key of my door. I went straight off to his bunk.
Carstairs was asleep on his back, snoring merrily. I tapped on the side of the bunk and finding that this failed to awaken him, shook him by the arm. He never budged. The snoring stopped; but he slept on.
I shook him violently again. Never had I seen a man sleep like this! I put my two hands under his shoulders, raised him up and jerked him to and fro. But he remained a dead weight in my grip, sunk in deep sleep.
There was a step in the corridor outside. I put my head out. Mackay, the engineer, was there on his way to his bunk.
"Hsst!" I whispered. "Mackay, what do you make of this? I can't wake Carstairs...."
Mackay thrust his grizzled head into the cabin. He bent down over the sleeping man and sniffed audibly.
"The man's drunk!" he remarked casually.
My conscience smote me. But then I reflected. Could one "peg" have reduced the model Carstairs to this state? Unless, of course, he had already been drinking that evening. I had detected no signs of it about him....
"I wonder if I should fetch the doctor...." I began.
"Hoots!" broke in the engineer, "let the man bide. He's a gude lad but, mon, he'll have a sore heid to-morrow! I'm thinkin' Sir Alec wull gie him all the doctorin' he wants!"
"After all," said I, "I don't think we need disturb the doctor!"
Custrin's curiosity about the message, the inexplicable disappearance of my key, the drink the doctor had prepared for me which I had given to Carstairs and the servant's drunken stupor, Custrin's visit to my cabin.... my mind sprang from rung to rung in this ladder of curious happenings. What had John Bard told me about El Cojo's gang?.... "a tremendous organisation with an immense network of spies as widespread and efficient as the Mafia of Italy!"
My hand went instinctively to the inside pocket of my pyjamas, a pocket with a button-up flap specially designed, which has rendered me good service in sleeping-cars and cabins half round the world. I felt beneath my fingers the crackle of the oilskin in its flannel cover.
I held my secret still guarded. I congratulated myself on my firmness in refusing to let this persistent Master Custrin accompany the expedition. But we had not yet reached the island. I must be watchful, watchful....
*****
Half an hour later, as I sat on the edge of my bunk smoking a cigarette, there came a tap at the door. Garth, looking strangely big and unwieldy in his pyjamas, stood outside.
"Come up at once!" he whispered. "Don't trouble to dress. There's no one about!"
He glided away. When I emerged on deck the eastern sky was streaked with light. Lawless was on the bridge, Garth at his side.
Silently the captain pointed to the horizon. Away on the port bow a faint grey blur rested lightly on the straight edge of the ocean like a wisp of mist on a lake at dawn.
"Cock Island!" said the skipper.