O’Shea gave them his word that he would not proceed to sea without the missing sovereign, and during a brief lull in the excitement he thrust the bewildered Thompson, the masquerader, into the chart-room and pelted him with questions. The latter was positive that he had directed the cabman to drive to theTyneshire Glen. And the fellow wasparticular to stop and ask his way when just inside the entrance to the docks. At least, he had halted his cab to talk to some one who was apparently giving him information. Thompson was unable to overhear the conversation.
“And did ye get a look at this second party?” sharply queried O’Shea.
“The carriage lamp showed me his face for a moment, and I saw him less distinctly as he moved away. He was a young man, well dressed, rather a smart-looking chap, I should say. I think he had on a fancy red waistcoat.”
“Sandy complected? A brisk walker?” roared O’Shea in tremendous tones.
“I am inclined to say the description fits the young man,” said Thompson.
“’Twas the crooked minister of finance, Baron Frederick Martin Strothers, bad luck to him!” and O’Shea looked blood-thirsty. “I will bet the ship against a cigar that he sold out to the enemy. He stands in with the king’s wicked relatives and schemin’ lawyers. And we never fooled him for a minute. ’Tis likely he switched the real king to theTyneshire Glen, where the poor monarch would have no friends to help him out of a scrape. Strothers bribed the cabmen—that’s how the trick was turned. Just how they got next to our plans I can’t fathom at all.”
“Then it is hopeless to try to secure the king and transfer him to this steamer?” asked Thompson, easier in mind now that he comprehended that he had not been purposely kidnapped.
“Hopeless? By me sainted grandmother, it is not hopeless at all,” cried Captain O’Shea as he fled from the chart-room. Johnny Kent had made another journey from the lower regions to seek enlightenment. O’Shea thumped him between the shoulders and confidently declaimed:
“We’re done with all this childish play-acting and stratagems. ’Tis not our kind of game. ’Twas devised to spare the sensitive feeling of King Osmond, and this wide-awake Strothers has made monkeys of us. Now we’re going to turn around and steam back to London and grab this genuine king of ours and take him to sea without any more delay at all.”
“I like your language,” beamingly quoth Johnny Kent. “We’re about due to have a little violence, Cap’n Mike.”
While the good shipTarlingtonswings about and retraces her course there is time to discover what befell the genuine Osmond I after he entered a carriage at the Hotel Carleton and set out to join Captain O’Shea’s steamer.
He was rapidly driven to the East India Docks and the carriage drew up alongside theTyneshire Glen. The royal occupant had been informed by Captain O’Shea that the ship would be out of the docks by now and a tug waiting to transfer him. In the darkness the shadowy outline of one steamer looked very like another, and King Osmond thought that perhaps the plan of sailing might have been changed at the last moment.
The cabman strenuously assured him that this was theTarlington, and he decided that he hadbetter go aboard and look for Captain O’Shea. If a mistake had been made, it should be an easy matter to find the landing-pier and the waiting tug.
No sooner had the king reached the deck than he was convinced that he had been directed to the wrong steamer. The people who stared at him were utter strangers. There was not a subject of Trinadaro among them, nor did any of the officers of the ship step forward to greet him. He was about to accost the nearest spectator when an officious man dressed in seedy black confronted him, flourished a formidable-appearing document under the royal nose, and pompously affirmed:
“A writ from the judge duly appointed and authorized by the Lord Chancellor to take cognizance of such cases, distraining Colonel Osmond George Sydenham-Leach from attempting to quit the jurisdiction of said court pending an inquisitionde lunatico inquirendo. Take it calm and easy, sir. This won’t interfere with your liberty as long as you obey the writ.”
Another minion of the law, a fat man with a well-oiled voice, thereupon formally took possession of the steamer, explaining that because clearance papers had been issued for a voyage to Trinadaro, the court held that a departure from England was actually and speedily contemplated. The presence of Colonel Sydenham-Leach on board in person was also evidence after the fact.
The blow was staggering, humiliating, incredibly painful. It shook the amiable gentleman’s presenceof mind to the very foundations. To be interfered with as an alleged madman was enough to bewilder the most sapient monarch that ever wielded sceptre. As a landed proprietor, a retired officer of the militia, a Conservative in politics, King Osmond had profound respect for the law and the constitution of his native land. He was not one to defy a judicial writ or to grapple with the situation in a high-handed manner. In other words, he was rather Colonel Sydenham-Leach in this cruel crisis than the sovereign ruler of the independent principality of Trinadaro.
No help or comfort was to be obtained from the company around him. These spurious voyagers from the employment agency were whispering uneasily among themselves and regarding the unfortunate Osmond with suspicious glances. They had not bargained to entangle themselves in the affairs of an alleged lunatic on board of a ship which had been seized in the name of the law. Ten shillings was not enough for this sort of thing.
“It don’t look right to me,” said one of them. “The job is on the queer. I say we hook it before the bloomin’ bobbies come and put the lot of us in jail.”
This sentiment expressed the general view of the situation, and the counterfeit subjects of Trinadaro began to flock down the gangway and scatter in a hunted manner among the gloomy warehouses. Presently Colonel Sydenham-Leach was left alone with the two court officers. Recovering somewhatof his composure and dignity, he declared that he must consult with his legal advisers before consenting to leave the ship. He clung to the hope that delay might enable Captain O’Shea to come to his rescue, although he was unwilling to try to send a message to theTarlington. This might reveal to the officers of the law that the wrong ship had been detained, and put them on the track of the right one.
There was no legal reason why the luckless king should not remain in theTyneshire Glenuntil his lawyers could come and confer with him, wherefore the captors grumblingly sat themselves down in the cabin to wait. The king had nothing to say to them. He was absorbed in his own unhappy reflections. His dreams had turned to ashes. His island empire would know him not. He felt very old and helpless, and sad.
Thus he sat and brooded for some time. At length he heard the sound of men tramping across the deck above his head. He roused himself to look in the direction of the door-way. A moment later it framed the well-knit, active figure of Captain Michael O’Shea. Behind him puffed stout Johnny Kent.
“’Twas a good guess, Your Majesty,” cried O’Shea. “We thought you might have gone adrift and fetched up aboard this old steamer. Who are your two friends?”
“Officers from the bench of one of the judges in lunacy,” reluctantly admitted King Osmond. “Theyhave served distraining papers on me and on my ship.”
“On this ship?” exclaimed Johnny Kent. “How ridiculous! What’ll we do with this pair of bailiffs, or whatever you call ’em, Cap’n Mike? Make ’em eat their documents?”
“No; we will take the two meddlers along with us,” sweetly answered O’Shea. “We can’t afford to leave them behind to tell how it happened.”
“But they have all the power and authority of the British government behind them,” spoke up King Osmond.
“And they have a long voyage ahead of them,” said O’Shea. “Your Majesty can give them jobs in your own judicial department and they will grow up with the country.”
“I cannot countenance such actions,” began the king, but Johnny Kent interrupted to remark with much vehemence:
“Excuse us, Your Majesty, but this ain’t no time for arguments about the British constitution. Cap’n Mike and me agreed to take you and your ship to Trinadaro. It was a contract, and we propose to earn our wages. If you won’t come easy and willin’, then we’ll just have to call a couple of our men from the boat that’s waiting alongside and escort you, anyhow. We aim to live up to our agreements.”
O’Shea wasted no more words. Suddenly grasping one of the court officers by the back of the neck and the slack of his garments, he propelled him rapidly toward the deck, fiercely admonishing him tomake no outcry unless he wished to be tossed overboard.
The other man had started to flee, but Johnny Kent caught him in a few heavy strides, tucked him under one mighty arm, clapped a hand over his mouth, and waddled with his burden to the nearest cargo port.
“Drop them into the boat,” commanded O’Shea. “Ahoy, there, below! Catch these two lads, and let them make no noise.”
The astonished King Osmond had followed the abductors out of the cabin. Before he could renew the discussion Captain O’Shea, breathing hard, but calm and smiling, faced him with the courteous invitation:
“After you, Your Majesty. We are at your service. A few minutes in the boat and you will be aboard theTarlingtonand heading for the open sea.”
It was obviously so futile to protest that the king meekly descended to the boat, steadied by the helping hand of Johnny Kent. The seamen shoved off and O’Shea steered for the long black hull of the steamer visible a few hundred yards down-stream. Unable to voice his confused emotions, the king suffered himself to be conducted up the gangway of theTarlington.
His loyal subjects, the real ones, cheered frantically at sight of him. It was an ovation worthy of his station. He bowed and smiled and was himself again. Already the recollection of his detention as a madman seemed less distressing.
He felt the ship tremble under his feet as her engines began to drive her toward the blessed sea and the long road to wave-washed Trinadaro. Had it not been for the bold and ready conduct of his two faithful mariners, he would now be a broken-spirited old man in London, a butt of public ridicule. He went below to the state-rooms which had been suitably fitted for his comfort and privacy, and discovered that he was greatly wearied.
Before retiring he sent one of his secretaries to request Captain O’Shea and Johnny Kent to give him the pleasure of their company at breakfast next morning.
“That makes me feel a bit more cheerful,” said O’Shea to himself. “Maybe he has decided to forgive us. We were guilty of high treason, disobedience, and a few other things, in packing him off to sea while he was trying to tell us he couldn’t go at all.”
TheTarlingtonwas in blue water next morning when the captain and the chief engineer bashfully entered the private dining-room of His Majesty. The latter greeted them with marked affability, and said:
“I take great pleasure, my dear friends, in conferring on you the insignia of the Grand Cross of Trinadaro as a recognition of your invaluable loyalty and assistance. You will be entitled to call yourselves barons of my realm by royal warrant. While I must confess that I could not ordinarily approve of such summary methods as you made useof——”
“It looks different now that old England is dropping astern,” suggested O’Shea. “The British constitution doesn’t loom as big as it did. Your own flag is at the mast-head, Your Majesty, and you can make treaties if ye like. I thank you with all my heart for the reward you have given me.”
“It pleases me a heap more to be a member of the nobility of Trinadaro than to earn big wages for the voyage,” warmly assented Johnny Kent. “I’ll be the only life-size baron in my neck of the woods when I settle down on that farm in the State o’ Maine, eh, Cap’n Mike?”
Freed of all anxieties and besetments, the royal passenger resumed his labor of planning the occupations of his subjects. His enthusiasm was delightful to behold. He seemed to grow younger with every day of the voyage southward. His was to be a kingdom of peace and good-will, of a benevolent ruler and a contented, industrious people. He was the stanchest kind of a royalist, and Trinadaro was to be a constitutional monarchy with an aristocracy which should be recruited after the pioneering work had been accomplished.
The relations between the king and his mariners twain became those of pleasant intimacy. They came to know him much better during the long weeks at sea, and felt toward him an affectionate, tolerant respect.
The ship had crossed the equator and was ploughing through the long blue surges of the South Atlantic when Captain O’Shea, after working out the noon observations, informed the king:
“A couple of days more and we’ll begin to look for a sight of the peaks of Trinadaro. If the weather holds calm, we can begin to put the people and the cargo ashore right after that.”
“The peaks of Trinadaro!” fondly echoed Osmond I. “Do you know, Captain O’Shea, I have wondered if you considered me a crack-brained old fool. Many men in England think so, I am sure. I know that my relatives do.”
“’Tis my opinion that ye wish to make folks happy and that you will do no harm with your money,” was the reply. “And there’s few rich men that can say the same. No; ’tis not crack-brained to want to be a king. Power is what men desire, and they will trample on others to get it. I have heard ye talk here on board ship, and I have admired what you had to say. You will live your own life in your own way, but ye will not forget to make this island of yours a place for men and women to call home and to be glad that they have found it.”
“I thank you, Captain O’Shea,” said the other. “I cannot help thinking now and then of what will be the fate of my principality when death comes to me. If I am spared for ten or fifteen years longer, I shall have time to set my affairs in order, to make Trinadaro self-sustaining, to win the recognition of foreign governments, to arrange for an administration to succeed my reign.”
“May you live to be a king until you are a hundred!” cried O’Shea. “And a man who is as happy and contented as you are is pretty sure of a ripe old age.”
“I hope that you and Mr. Kent will consent to sail under my flag as long as I live,” earnestly said the king. “I have learned to depend on you, and I need not tell you that the financial arrangement will be more favorable than you could make elsewhere.”
“We have no notion of quitting your service,” replied O’Shea, with a smile. “’Tis up to us to see the kingdom fairly under way before we turn rovers again.”
It was early in the morning of the second day after this when the officer on watch roused Captain O’Shea with the news that land had been sighted on the starboard bow. The master of theTarlingtonstared through his binoculars and saw a black, jagged foreland of rock lifting from the sea. He sent word to the passengers that Trinadaro lay ahead of them.
King Osmond had left word that he was to be called whenever the first glimpse of his island should be revealed. But he came not to the bridge in response to the message from Captain O’Shea. In his stead appeared his physician, with a demeanor terribly distressed. His voice was unsteady as he said:
“It is my sad duty to inform you that His Majesty passed away some time during the night. His heart simply ceased to beat. It had been somewhat feeble and irregular of late, but the symptoms were not alarming. His strength was overtaxed during those last weeks in London.”
O’Shea bared his head and stood silent. The announcementwas very hard to believe. Pulling himself together, he murmured to the chief officer:
“The king is dead. Please set the flag of Trinadaro at half-mast.”
As soon as the word was passed down to the engine-room Johnny Kent sought the bridge and his eyes filled with tears as he exclaimed:
“It don’t seem right, Cap’n Mike. I ain’t reconciled to it one mite. He deserved to have what he wanted.”
“Yes, he had slipped his cable, Johnny. There are cruel tricks in this game of life.”
“What will you do now?”
“I have had no time to think. But one thing is certain. I will carry King Osmond to his island, and there we will bury him. ’Tis the one place in all the world where he would want to rest. And the peaks of Trinadaro will guard him, and the big breakers will sing anthems for him, and he will be the king there till the Judgment Day.”
TheTarlingtonslowly approached the precipitous coast-line and changed her course to pass around to the lee of the island. As the deeply indented shore opened to view, and one bold headland after another slid by, a comparatively sheltered anchorage was disclosed.
There, to the amazement of Captain O’Shea, rode two small cruisers. One of them flew the red ensign of England, the other the green and yellow colors of the navy of Brazil. He guessed their errand before a British lieutenant came alongside theTarlingtonin a steam-launch and climbed the gangway which had been dropped to receive him.
Gazing curiously at the silent company and the half-masted flag of Trinadaro, he was conducted into the saloon, where Captain O’Shea waited for him to state his business.
“This steamer belongs to Colonel Sydenham-Leach, I presume,” said the visitor. “I should like to see him, if you please. Sorry, but I have unpleasant news for him.”
“If it is King Osmond of Trinadaro ye mean, he is dead, God rest his soul! He went out last night.”
“You don’t say! Please express my sympathy to the ship’s company,” exclaimed the lieutenant. “How extraordinary! We received orders by cable at Rio to proceed to Trinadaro in time to intercept this vessel of yours.”
“And what were the orders, and why is that Brazilian man-of-war anchored alongside of you?” asked O’Shea.
“It is all about the ownership of the island,” the lieutenant explained. “Nobody wanted it for centuries, and now everybody seems keen on getting hold of it. The English government suddenly decided, after you sailed from London, that it might need Trinadaro as a landing-base for a new cable between South America and Africa, and sent us to hoist the flag over the place. Brazil heard of the affair and sent a ship to set up a claim on the basis of an early discovery. The Portuguese have presented their evidence, I believe, because their people madesome kind of a settlement at Trinadaro once upon a time.”
“And the forsaken island was totally forgotten until poor King Osmond got himself and his project into the newspapers,” slowly commented O’Shea.
“That is the truth of the matter, I fancy.” The naval lieutenant paused, and commiseration was strongly reflected in his manly face. “Tell me,” said he, “what was the opinion at home about this King of Trinadaro? He was a bit mad, I take it.”
“No more than you or me,” answered O’Shea. “He had a beautiful dream, and it made him very happy, but it was not his fate to see it come true. And no doubt it is better that he did not live to know that the scheme was ruined. His island has been taken away from him. It will be wrangled over by England and Brazil and the rest of them, and there is no room for a king that hoped to enjoy himself in his own way. The world has no place for a man like Colonel Osmond George Sydenham-Leach, my dear sir.”
“Too bad!” sighed the lieutenant. “And what are your plans, Captain O’Shea? Do you intend to make any formal claim in behalf of the late king?”
“No. His dreams died with him. There is no heir to the throne. I’m thankful that his finish was so bright and hopeful. There will be funeral services and a burial to-morrow. I should take it as a great favor if detachments from the British cruiser and the Brazilian war-vessel could be present.”
“I will attend to it,” said the lieutenant.
When the coffin of King Osmond I was carried ashore it was draped with the flag of Trinadaro, which he himself had designed. Launches from the two cruisers towed sailing-cutters filled with bluejackets, who splashed through the surf and formed in column led by the bugles and the muffled drums. The parade wound along the narrow valleys and climbed to the plateau on which the ruler had planned to build his capital.
There the first and last King of Trinadaro was laid to rest, and the guns of the cruisers thundered a requiem. The British lieutenant counted the guns and turned to Captain O’Shea to say:
“It is the salute given only to royalty, according to the navy regulations. It is the least we can do for him.”
“And it is handsomely done,” muttered the grateful O’Shea as he brushed his hand across his eyes.
“Will you take your ship back to England?”
“Yes. I can do nothing else. ’Twill be a sad voyage, but God knows best. As it all turned out, this king of ours had to die to win his kingdom.”
When the mourners had returned to theTarlington, Captain O’Shea and Johnny Kent went into the chart-room and talked together for some time. At length the simple-hearted chief engineer said with a wistful smile:
“I’m glad we stood by and did what we could for him, ain’t you, Cap’n Mike?”
“You bet I am, Johnny. He was a good man, and I loved him. Here’s to His Majesty, King Osmondof Trinadaro! Even the pair of court officers we kidnapped had come to be fond of him and wished him no harm. There may be trouble waiting for us in London River on account of them and the ship that took out no clearances. But we will face the music. ’Tis not much to do for him that was so good to us.”
“Right you are, Cap’n Mike; but do you suppose we’ll go to jail?”
“No; for the blame will be laid to poor King Osmond, and the law will hold him responsible for the acts of his agents. But we would not mind going to jail for him.”
“Well, anyhow, they can never take his kingdom away from him,” softly quoth Johnny Kent.