"I sprang to my feet on hearing this. 'Not the first!' I cried."
"Because a schooner started yesterday for the wreck, with a full diving plant aboard. Jim Peach is running the show, and he has Yokohama Joe with him."
I did not wait to hear any more, but picking up my hat made for the door, and before you could have counted fifty was flying up the street at my best speed. Jim Peach had beaten me once before, he was not going to do so again if I could help it.
CHAPTER IV
As I reached the hotel again after my interview with that crafty old rascal, Maalthaas, I saw Mr. Leversidge entering it by another gate. I hurried after him and just managed to catch him as he was crossing the verandah to pass into his own sitting-room. He turned sharply round on hearing my step behind him, and one glance at my face must have told him that there was something the matter. His face turned pale, and I noticed that his mouth twitched nervously.
"What is it?" he asked breathlessly. "What is it you have to tell me? I can see there is something wrong by your face."
"There is indeed something wrong," I answered. "Come inside and let me tell you. I hurried back on purpose to let you know at once."
"I am obliged to you," he said. "Now come inside. Your face frightens me. I fear bad news."
"It is not good news I have to tell you, I'm afraid," I replied. "But still, if we're sharp, we may be able to remedy the mischief before it's too late. First and foremost you must understand that this morning I called upon an old friend who lives here, one of the sharpest men in the East, if not the very sharpest. He's a man who knows everything; who would in all probability be able to tell you why that Russian cruiser, which was due in Hong Kong last Friday, at the last moment put back to Vladivostock, though she did not require coal, and had nothing whatever the matter with her. Or he will tell you, as he did me, the reasons which induced a certain English jewel merchant to hasten to Colombo from Madras, and then come on to Java in company with a man named Christopher Collon."
"Do you mean to say that our business here is known to people?" he cried in alarm. "In that case we are ruined."
"Not quite, I think," I answered; and then with a little boastfulness which I could not help displaying, I added, "In the first place it is not known to people. Only to one person. In the second, Maalthaas may play fast and loose with a good many folk, but he dares not do so with me. I carry too many guns for him, and we are too useful to each other to endeavour in any way to spoil each other's games. But for him I should never have known what has happened now until it would have been too late to remedy it."
"But you have not yet told me what has happened," said Mr. Leversidge in an aggrieved tone.
"Well, the fact of the matter is," I said, "while we have been congratulating ourselves on our sharpness, we have very nearly been forestalled in what we intended doing. In other words, we are not so early in the field as we thought we were."
"What do you mean? Not so early in the field. Do you mean to tell me there is some one else trying to do what we are going to do? That some one else is setting off for the wreck?"
"I do," I answered, with a nod of the head. "You have just hit it. A schooner left Tanjong Priok yesterday with a diver aboard, and as far as I can gather—and there seems to be no doubt about the matter—she was bound for the wreck."
"Do you mean a Government vessel? Surely she must have been sent by the authorities?"
"I don't mean anything of the sort," I said. "The only authority she is sent by is Jim Peach, one of the sharpest men in these waters. And when I tell you that he is aboard her, and that he has Yokohama Joe, the diver, with him, I guess you'll see there's real cause for alarm. At any rate, Mr. Leversidge, it's my opinion that if we're not there first we may as well give up all thought of the pearls, for they'll get them as sure as you're born—don't you make any mistake about that. I've never known Jimmy Peach fail in what he undertook but once. He's a bad 'un to beat is Jimmy. He knows these waters as well as you know Oxford Street, and if, as I expect, it's his own schooner he's gone in, then we shall have all our time taken up trying to catch her."
As I said this the old gentleman's face was a study. Expressions of bewilderment, anxiety, greed, and vindictiveness seemed to struggle in it for the mastery. It was evident that, brought up as he had been with a profound respect for the sacred rights of property, it was impossible for him to believe that the man could live who would have the audacity to behave towards him, John Leversidge, of Hatton Garden, as Peach and his gang were now said to be doing. He clenched his fists as he realized that the success of the enterprise depended entirely upon our being able to beat the others at their own game, and from the gleam I saw in his eye I guessed that there was not much the old boy would not do and dare to get possession of what had been bought and paid for by his firm, and what he therefore considered to be his own lawful property.
"If it is as you say, Mr. Collon," he said, at length, "there can be no possible doubt as to what sort of action we should take. Come what may we must be on the spot first. I believe I am doing as my firm would wish when I say that those other rascals must be outwitted at all costs. If this man you speak of, this Peach, is a bad one to beat, let me tell you so am I. We'll make a match of it and see who comes out best. I can assure you I have no fear for the result."
"Bravely spoken," I said. "I like your spirit, Mr. Leversidge, and I'm with you hand and glove. I've beaten Jimmy before, and on this occasion I'll do so again."
"I only hope and trust you may," he answered. "And now what do you advise? What steps should we take first? Give me your assistance, I beg, for you must of necessity be better versed in these sort of matters than I. It seems to me, however, that one thing is very certain: if these men sailed yesterday in their schooner, and they have a day's start of us, we shall find it difficult to catch them. We might do so, of course; but it would be safer to act as if we think we might not. For my own part I do not feel inclined to run the risk. I want to make it certain that we do get there before them."
"The only way to do that is, of course, to charter a steamer," I replied, "and that will run into a lot of money. But it will make it certain that we get the better of them."
"In such a case money is no object. We must keep our word to the Emperor, and to do that my firm would spend twice the sum this is likely to cost. But the question is, where are we to find the steamer we want? I found it difficult, nay, almost impossible, to get even a schooner this morning. And for the only one I could hear of the owner asked such a preposterous price that I did not feel disposed to give in to his demands until I had consulted you upon the subject, and made certain that we could not find another. What do you recommend?"
I considered the matter for a moment. I had had experience of Java shipowners before, and I knew something of their pleasant little ways. Then an idea occurred to me.
"I think if you will let me negotiate the matter, Mr. Leversidge," I said, "I may be able to obtain what you want. The man of whom I spoke to you just now, the same who gave me the information regarding Peach and his party, is the person to apply to. For a consideration I have no doubt he would find us a vessel, and though we may have to pay him for his trouble, he will take very good care that we are not swindled by any other party. There is one more suggestion I should like to make, and that is that you should let me telegraph to a person of my acquaintance in Thursday Island to send a schooner down to a certain part of the New Guinea coast, in charge of men he can trust. We could then on arrival tranship to her, and send the steamer back without letting those on board know anything of our errand. What do you think of that arrangement? In my opinion it would be the best course to pursue."
"And I agree with you," he answered. "It is an admirable idea, and I am obliged to you for it. We will put it into execution without loss of time. As soon as you have seen this man Maalthaas we will send the message you speak of to Thursday Island."
"I will see him at once," I replied. "There is no time to be lost. While we are talking here that schooner is making her way to the scene of the catastrophe as fast as she can go."
I accordingly departed, and in something less than a quarter of an hour was once more seated in the venerable Maalthaas' room. It did not take long to let him know the favour we wanted of him, nor did it take long for him to let me understand upon what terms he was prepared to grant it. "You won't come down in your price at all, I suppose?" I said, when he had finished. "What you ask is a trifle stiff for such a simple service."
"Not a guelder," he answered briefly.
"Provided we agree, when can we sail?"
"To-morrow morning at daylight, if you like. There will be no difficulty about that."
"And you guarantee that the men you send with her can be trusted?"
"Nobody in this world is to be trusted," he answered grimly. "I've never yet met the man who could not be bought at a price. And what's more if I did meet him I would be the last to trust him. What I will say is that the men who work the boat are as nearly trustworthy as I can get them. That's all."
"All right. That will do. I will go back to my principal now and let him know what you say. If I don't return here within an hour you can reckon we agree to your terms, and you can go ahead."
"No, thank you, Mynheer," said Maalthaas; "that won't do at all. If I receive the money within an hour, I shall take it that you agree, not otherwise. Half the money down and the remainder to be paid to the captain when you reach your destination. If you want him to wait for you and bring you back, you must pay half the return fare when you get aboard, and the balance when you return here. Do you understand?"
"Perfectly. I will let you have an answer within an hour."
Fifteen hours later the money had been paid, the cablegram to Thursday Island despatched, and we were standing on the deck of the Dutch steamer König Ludwig, making our way along the Java coast at the rate of a good fifteen knots an hour.
"If Master Peach doesn't take care we shall be in a position to throw him a towline by this time on Saturday morning," I said to Mr. Leversidge, who was standing beside me.
"I devoutly hope so," he answered. "At any rate, you may be sure we'll make a good race of it. What shall we call the stakes?"
"The Race for a Dead Man's Pearls," said I. "How would that do?"
CHAPTER V
To my surprise before we had been twenty-four hours at sea every one on board the König Ludwig seemed to have imbibed a measure of our eagerness, and to be aware that we were not in reality engaged in a pleasure trip, as had been given out, but in a race against a schooner which had sailed from the same port nearly forty-eight hours before. As a matter of fact it was Mr. Leversidge who was responsible for thus letting the cat out of the bag. Imperative as it was that the strictest reticence should be observed regarding our errand, his excitement was so great that he could not help confiding his hopes and fears, under the pledge of secrecy, of course, to half the ship's company. Fortunately, however, he had the presence of mind not to reveal the object of our voyage, though I fear many of them must have suspected it.
It was on the seventh day after leaving Batavia that we reached that portion of the New Guinea coast where it had been arranged that the schooner, for which I had telegraphed to Thursday Island, should meet us. So far we had seen nothing of Peach's boat, and in our own hearts we felt justified in believing that we had beaten her. Now, if we could only change vessels, and get to the scene of action without loss of time, it looked as if we should stand an excellent chance of completing our business and getting away again before she could put in an appearance. After careful consideration we had agreed to allow the steamer to return without us to Java, and when we had done our work to continue our journey on board the schooner to Thursday Island. Here we would separate, Leversidge returning with his treasure to England viâ Brisbane and Sydney, and I making my way by the next China boat to Hong-Kong, where I intended to lay by for a while on the strength of the money I was to receive from him. But, as you will shortly see, we were bargaining without our hosts. Events were destined to turn out in a very different way from what we expected.
It was early morning—indeed, it still wanted an hour to sunrise—when the captain knocked at our respective cabins and informed us that we had reached the place to which it had been arranged in the contract he should carry us. We accordingly dressed with all possible speed, and having done so made our way on deck. When we reached it we found an unusually still morning, a heavy mist lying upon the face of the sea. The latter, as far as we could judge by the water alongside, was as smooth and pulseless as a millpond. Not a sound could be heard save the steady dripping of the moisture from the awning on the deck. Owing to the fog it was impossible to tell whether or not the schooner from Thursday Island had arrived at the rendezvous. She might have been near us, or she might be fifty miles away for all we could tell to the contrary.
Once we thought we heard the sound of a block creaking a short distance away to port, but though we hailed at least a dozen times, and blew our whistles for some minutes, we were not rewarded with an answer.
"This delay is really very annoying," said Mr. Leversidge testily, after we had tramped the deck together for upwards of an hour. "Every minute is of the utmost importance to us, for every hour we waste in inaction here is bringing the other schooner closer. As soon as this fog lifts we shall have to make up for lost time with a vengeance."
How we got through the remainder of that morning I have only a very confused recollection. For my own part I believe I put in most of it with a book lying on the chartroom locker. Mr. Leversidge, on the other hand, was scarcely still for a minute at a time, but spent most of the morning running from place to place about the vessel, peering over the side to see if the fog were lifting, and consulting his watch and groaning audibly every time he returned it to his pocket. I don't know that I ever remember seeing a man more impatient.
As soon as lunch was finished we returned to the deck, only to find the fog as thick as ever. The quiet that was over everything was most uncanny, and when one of us spoke his voice seemed to travel for miles. Still, however, we could hear nothing, much less see anything, of the schooner which was to have taken us on to our destination.
"If this fog doesn't lift soon I believe I shall go mad," said Leversidge at last, bringing his hand down as he spoke with a smack upon the bulwarks. "For all we know to the contrary it may be fine where the wreck is, and all the time we are lying here inactive that rascal Peach's schooner, the Nautch Girl, is coming along hand over fist to spoil our work for us. I never knew anything so aggravating in my life."
As if nature were regretting having given him so much anxiety, the words had scarcely left his mouth before there was a break in the fog away to port, and then with a quickness that seemed almost magical, seeing how thick it had been a moment before, the great curtain drew off the face of the deep, enabling us to see the low outline of the cape ten miles or so away to starboard, and, as if the better to please us, a small vessel heading towards us from the south-eastward. As soon as I brought the glass to bear upon her I knew her for the schooner I had cabled to Thursday Island about. An hour later she was hove-to within a cable's length of us, and we were moving our traps aboard as expeditiously as possible. Then sail was got on her once more, the König Ludwig whistled us a shrill farewell, and presently we were bowling across the blue seas toward our destination at as fine a rate of speed as any man could wish to see.
For the remainder of that day we sailed on, making such good running of it that at sunrise on the morning following we found ourselves at the place for which we had been travelling—namely, the scene of the wreck of the unfortunate steamship Monarch of Macedonia. We were all on deck when we reached it, and never shall I forget the look of astonishment that came into Leversidge's face when the skipper sang out some orders, hove her to, and joined us at the taffrail, saying abruptly as he did so, "Gentlemen, here we are; I reckon this is the place to which you told me to bring you."
"This the place!" he cried, as he looked round him at the smooth and smiling sea. "You surely don't mean to tell me that it was just here that the Monarch of Macedonia met her cruel fate? I cannot believe it."
"It's true, all the same," answered the skipper. "That's to say, as near as I can reckon it by observations. Just take a look at the chart and see for yourself."
So saying he spread the roll of paper he carried in his hand upon the deck, and we all knelt down to examine it. In order to prove his position the skipper ran a dirty thumb-nail along his course, and made a mark with it about the approximate spot where he had hove the schooner to.
"Do you mean to say that the unfortunate vessel lies beneath us now?" asked Mr. Leversidge, with a certain amount of awe in his voice.
"As near as I can reckon it she ought to be somewhere about here," returned the skipper, waving his hand casually around the neighbourhood. And then, taking a slip of paper from the pocket of his coat, he continued: "Here are the Admiralty Survey vessel's bearings of the rock upon which she struck, so we can't be very far out."
Following Mr. Leversidge's example we went to the port side and looked over.
"It seems a ghastly thing to think that down there lies that great vessel, the outcome of so much human thought and ingenuity, with the bodies of the men and women who perished in her still on board. I don't know that I envy you in your task of visiting her, Collon. By the way, what are the Government soundings?"
"Seventeen fathoms," answered the skipper.
"And you think she is lying some distance out from the rock on which she struck?"
"I do. The survivors say that as soon as she struck, the officer of the watch reversed his engines and pulled her off, but before he could get more than a cable's length astern she sank like a stone."
"I understand. And now, Mr. Collon, your part of the business commences. When do you propose to get to work? We must not delay any more than we can help, for the other schooner may be here at any moment."
"I shall commence getting my things together immediately," I answered, "and, if all goes well, the first thing to-morrow morning I shall make my descent. It would not be worth while doing so this afternoon."
Accordingly, as soon as our mid-day meal was finished, I had the pumps and diving gear brought on deck and spent the afternoon testing them and getting them ready for the work that lay before me on the morrow. By nightfall I was fully prepared to descend in search of the pearl.
"Let us hope that by this time to-morrow we shall be on our way to Thursday Island with our work completed," said Leversidge to me as we leant against the taffrail later in the evening. "I don't know that I altogether care about thinking that all those poor dead folk are lying only a hundred feet or so beneath our keel. As soon as we have got what we want out of her we'll lose no time in packing up and being off."
I was about to answer him, when something caused me to look across the sea to the westward. As I did so I gave a little cry of astonishment, for not more than five miles distant I could see the lights of a vessel coming towards us.
"Look!" I cried, "what boat can that be?"
Mr. Leversidge followed the direction of my hand. "If I'm not mistaken," the skipper said, "that is the Nautch Girl—Peach's schooner."
"Then there's trouble ahead. What on earth is to be done?"
"I have no notion. We cannot compel him to turn back, and if he finds us diving here he will be certain to suspect our motive and to give information against us."
We both turned and looked in the direction we had last seen the vessel, but to our amazement she was no longer there.
"What does it mean?" cried Leversidge. "What can have become of her?"
"I think I can tell you," said the skipper, "We're in for another fog."
"A fog again," replied the old gentleman. "If that is so we're done for."
"On the contrary," I said, "I think we're saved. Given a decent opportunity and I fancy I can see my way out of this scrape."
CHAPTER VI
Of all the thousand and one strange phenomena of the mighty deep, to my thinking there is none more extraordinary than the fogs which so suddenly spring up in Eastern waters. At one moment the entire expanse of sea lies plain and open before the eye; then a tiny cloud makes its appearance, like a little flaw in the perfect blue, far down on the horizon. It comes closer, and as it does so, spreads itself out in curling wreaths of vapour. Finally, the mariner finds himself cut off from everything, standing alone in a little world of his own, so tiny that it is even impossible for him to see a boat's length before his face. At night the effect is even more strange, for then it is impossible to see anything at all.
On this particular occasion the fog came up quicker than I ever remember to have seen one do. We had hardly caught sight of the lights of the schooner, which we were convinced was none other than the Nautch Girl, than they disappeared again. But, as I had told Mr. Leversidge, that circumstance, instead of injuring us, was likely to prove our salvation. Had she come upon us in broad daylight while we were engaged upon our work on the wreck below, it would have been a case of diamond cut diamond, and the strongest would have won. Now, however, if she would only walk into the trap I was about to set for her, I felt confident in my own mind that we should come out of the scrape with flying colours.
"We must not attempt to conceal our position," I said, turning to the skipper, whom I could now barely see. "If I were you I should keep that bell of yours ringing, it will serve to let Peach know that there is somebody already on the spot, and it will help to prepare his mind for what is to come."
The skipper groped his way forward to give the necessary order, and presently the bell commenced to sound its note of warning. Thereupon we sat ourselves down on the skylight to await the arrival of the schooner with what composure we could command. Our patience, however, was destined to be sorely tried, for upwards of two hours elapsed before any sound reached us to inform us that she was in our neighbourhood. Then with an abruptness which was almost startling, a voice came to us across the silent sea.
"If I have to visit you niggers in that boat," the speaker was saying, "I'll give you as good a booting as ever you had in your lives. Bend your backs to it and pull or I'll be amongst you before you can look round and put some ginger into you."
There was no occasion to tell me whose voice it was. "That's Jimmy Peach," I said, turning to Mr. Leversidge, who was standing beside me at the bulwarks. "I know his pleasant way of talking to his crew. He's a sweet skipper is Jimmy, and the man he has with him, Yokohama Joe, is his equal in every respect."
"But how have they managed to get here?" asked the old gentleman. "Theirs is not a steam vessel, and besides being pitch dark in this fog there's not a breath of wind."
"They've got a boat out towing her," I answered. "If you listen for a moment you'll hear the creaking of the oars in the rowlocks. That's just what I reckoned they would do. Now I am going to give Master Jimmy one of the prettiest scares he has ever had in his life, and one that I think he will remember to his dying day. If he ever finds it out, and we meet ashore, I reckon things will hum a bit."
So saying, I funnelled my mouth with my hands and shouted in the direction whence the voice had proceeded a few minutes before. "Ship ahoy! Is that the Nautch Girl, of Cooktown?"
There was complete silence while a man could have counted a hundred. Then a voice hailed me in reply: "What vessel are you?"
I was prepared for this question. "Her Majesty's gunboat Panther, anchored above the wreck of the Monarch of Macedonia," I answered. "Are you the Nautch Girl?"
There was another long pause, then a different voice answered, "Nautch Girl be hanged! We're the bêche-de-mer schooner Caroline Smithers, of Cairns, from Macassar to Port Moresby."
Once more I funnelled my hands and answered them. "All right," I replied, "just heave to a minute and I'll send a boat to make certain. I'm looking for the Nautch Girl, and, as she left Batavia ten days or so ago, she's just about due here now."
Turning to Mr. Leversidge, who was standing beside me, I whispered, "If I'm not mistaken he'll clear out now as quickly as he knows how."
"But why should he do so?" he inquired. "As long as he doesn't interfere with the wreck he has a perfect right to be here."
"As you say, he has a perfect right," I answered; "but you may bet your bottom dollar he'll be off as soon as possible. There is what the lawyers call a combination of circumstances against him. In the first place, I happen to know that he has been wanted very badly for some considerable time by the skipper of the Panther for a little bit of business down in the Kingsmill Group. They have been trying to nab him everywhere, but so far he has been too smart for them. In addition, he is certain to think his mission to the wreck has been wired to Thursday Island, and between the two I fancy he will come to the conclusion that discretion is the better part of valour and will run for it. Hark! there he goes."
We both listened, and a moment later could plainly distinguish the regular "cheep-cheep" of the oars as they towed the schooner away from us.
"He has got out two boats now," I said, "and that shows he means to be off as fast as he can go. Somehow I don't think we shall be troubled by Master Peach again for a day or two. But won't he just be mad if he ever finds out how we've fooled him. The world won't be big enough to hold the pair of us. Now all we want is the fog to hold up till he's out of sight. I don't feel any wind."
I wetted my finger and held it up above my head, but could feel nothing. The night was as still as it was foggy. Seeing, therefore, that it was no use our waiting about in the hope of the weather improving, I bade them good night, and, having been congratulated on my ruse for getting rid of Peach, and the success which had attended it, went below to my berth.
Sure enough when we came on deck next morning the fog had disappeared, and with it the schooner Nautch Girl. A brisk breeze was blowing. Overhead the sky was sapphire blue, brilliant sunshine streamed upon our decks, while the sea around us was as green and transparent as an emerald. Little waves splashed alongside, and the schooner danced gaily at her anchor. After the fog of the previous night, it was like a new world, and when we had satisfied ourselves that our enemy was really out of sight it was a merry party that sat down to breakfast.
As soon as the meal was finished we returned to the deck. The same glorious morning continued, with the difference, however, that by this time the sea had moderated somewhat. The crew were already at work preparing the diving apparatus for my descent. After the anxiety of the Nautch Girl's arrival, the trick we had played upon her captain, and the excitement consequent upon it, it came upon me almost as a shock to see the main, or to be more exact, the only, object of my voyage brought so unmistakably and callously before me. I glanced over the side at the smiling sea, and as I did so thought of the visit I was about to pay to the unfortunate vessel which was lying so still and quiet beneath those treacherous waves. And for what? For a jewel that would ultimately decorate a mere earthly sovereign's person. It seemed like an act of the grossest sacrilege to disturb that domain of Death for such a vulgar purpose.
"I see you are commencing your preparations," said Mr. Leversidge, who had come on deck while I was giving my instructions to the man in charge of the diving gear. "Before you do so had we not better study the cabin plan of the vessel herself, in order that you may have a good idea as to where the berth you are about to visit is situated?"
"Perhaps it would be as well," I answered. "Where is the plan?"
"I have it in my portmanteau," replied the old gentleman, and a moment later, bidding me remain where I was, he dived below in search of the article in question. Presently he returned, bringing with him a sheet of paper, which, when he spread it out upon the deck, I recognised as one of those printed forms supplied by steamship companies to intending passengers at the time of booking.
"There," he said, as he smoothed it out and placed his finger on a tiny red cross, "that is the cabin our agent occupied. You enter by the companion on the promenade deck, and, having descended to the saloon, turn sharp to your left hand and pass down the port side till you reach the alleyway alongside the steward's pantry. Nineteen is the number, and our agent's berth was number one hundred and sixty-three, which, as you will observe from this plan, is the higher one on your left as you enter. The next cabin was that occupied by the Reverend Colway-Brown, who, as you are aware, was one of the persons who escaped. I think we may consider ourselves fortunate that he was a parson, otherwise we don't know what might have happened."
Taking up the plan he had brought and examining it carefully, I tried to impress it upon my memory as far as possible. "Now," I said, "I think I know my ground; so let us get to work. The sooner the business is finished and the pearl is in your keeping the better I shall be pleased."
"I shall have no objection to be done with it either, I can assure you," he answered. "It has been a most tiresome and unpleasant affair for everybody concerned."
I then strolled forward to the main hatch, beside which my dress had been placed. Everything was in readiness, and I thereupon commenced my toilet. To draw on the costume itself was the matter of only a few seconds. My feet were then placed in the great boots with their enormous leaden soles; the helmet, without the glass, was slipped over my head and rivetted to the collar plate around my neck, the leaden weights, each of twenty-eight pounds, were fastened to my chest and back, the life-line was tied round my waist, and the other end made fast to the bulwark beside which my tender would take his place during such time as I should remain below.
"Now give me the lamp and the axe," I said, as I fumbled my way to the gangway where the ladder had been placed, and took up my position upon it. "After that you can screw in the glass and begin to pump as soon as you like. It won't be very long now, Mr. Leversidge, before you know your fate."
"I wish you luck," he answered, and then my tender, who had been careful to dip the front glass in the water, screwed it in, and almost simultaneously the hands at the machine commenced to pump. I was in their world and yet standing in a world of my own, a sort of amphibious creature, half of land and half of sea.
According to custom, I gave a last glance round to see that all was working properly, and then with a final wave of my hand to those upon the deck began to descend the ladder into the green water, little dreaming of the terrible surprise that was awaiting me at the bottom of the ocean.
CHAPTER VII
The novice when making his first descent beneath the waves in a diving dress is apt to find himself confronted with numerous surprises. In the first place he discovers that the dress itself, which, when he stood upon the deck, had appeared such a cumbersome and altogether unwieldy affair, becomes as light as any feather as soon as he is below the surface. To his amazement he is able to move about with as much freedom as he was accustomed to do on land. And despite the fact that his supply of air is being transmitted to him through many yards of piping from a pump on the deck above, and in consequence smells a little of india-rubber, he is relieved to find, when he has overcome his first nervousness, that he can breathe as comfortably and easily as when seated in the cabin of the vessel he has so lately quitted.
As stated in the previous chapter, as soon as the glass had been screwed into the front of my helmet I waved a farewell to my friends on the schooner's deck and began to descend the ladder on my adventurous journey. Men may take from me what they please, but they can never destroy my reputation as a diver. And, indeed, the task I was about to attempt was one that any man might be proud of accomplishing successfully.
The bottom on which I had landed was of white sand, covered here and there with short weeds and lumps of coral, the latter being of every conceivable shape and colour. Looking up I could distinguish through the green water the hull of the schooner, and could trace her cable running down to the anchor, which had dropped fifty feet or so from the spot where I now stood. Before me the bottom ascended almost precipitously, and, remembering what I had been told, I gathered that on the top of this was the rock upon which the unfortunate vessel had come to grief. Having noted these things, I turned myself about until I could see the boat herself. It was a strange and forlorn picture she presented. Her masts had gone by the board, and as I made my way towards her I could plainly distinguish the gaping rent in her bows which had wrought her ruin.
Clambering over the mass of coral upon which she was lying, I walked round her examining her carefully, and, when I had done so, began to cast about me for a means of getting on board. This, however, proved a rather more difficult task than one would have at first imagined, for she had not heeled over as might have been supposed, but had settled down in her natural position in a sort of coral gully, and in consequence her sides were almost as steep as the walls of a house. However, I was not going to be beaten, so, taking my life-line in my hand, I signalled to my tender above, by a code I had previously arranged with him, to lower me the short iron ladder which had been brought in case its services should be required. Having obtained this I placed it against the vessel's side, but not before I had taken the precaution to attach one end of a line to it and the other to my waist, so that we should not part company and I be left without a means of getting out of the vessel again when once I was inside. Mounting by it, I clambered over the broken bulwarks and was soon at the entrance to the saloon companion ladder on the promenade deck. Already a terrible and significant change was to be noticed in her appearance: a thick green weed was growing on the once snow-white planks, and the brilliant brasses, which had been the pride and delight of her officers in bygone days, were now black and discoloured almost beyond recognition. Remembering what she had once been, the money she had cost, the grandeur of her launch and christening, and the pride with which she had once navigated the oceans of the world, it was enough to bring the tears into one's eyes now to see her lying so dead and helpless below the waves of which she had once been so bright an ornament. I thought of the men and women, the fathers and mothers, the handsome youths and pretty girls who had once walked those decks so confidently; of the friendships which had been begun upon them, and the farewells which had there been said, and then of that last dread scene at midnight when she had crashed into the unknown danger, and a few moments later had sunk down and down until she lay an inert and helpless mass upon the rocky bed where I now found her.
Feeling that, if I wished to get my work done expeditiously, I had better not waste my time looking about me, I attempted to open the door of the saloon companion ladder, but the wood had swollen, and, in spite of my efforts, defied me. However, a few blows from my axe smashed it in and enabled me to enter. Inside the hatch it was too dark for me to see very clearly, but with the assistance of my electric lamp this difficulty was soon overcome, and, holding the latter above my head, I continued my descent.
On the landing, half-way down, jammed into a corner, I encountered the first bodies, those of a man and woman. My movement through the water caused them to drop me a mocking curtsey as I passed, and I noticed that the man held the woman in his arms very tight, as though he were resolved that they should not be parted, even by King Death himself.
Reaching the bottom of the ladder, I passed into the saloon, not without a shudder, however, as I thought of the work that lay before me. God help the poor dead folk I saw there! They were scattered about everywhere in the most grotesque attitudes. Some were floating against the roof, and some were entangled in the cleated chairs. I have entered many wrecks in my time, and have seen many curious and terrible sights, but what I saw in this ill-fated vessel surpassed anything I have ever met with in my experience. Any attempt to give a true description of it would be impossible. I must get on with my story and leave that to your imagination.
By the time I had made my way so far I had had about enough of it for the time being, and stood in need of a rest. Accordingly I retraced my steps to the deck and signalled to my tender that I was about to return to the surface. The change, when I did so, from the semi-obscurity of that horrible world below the seas to the brilliant sunshine I found existing above, was almost startling in its abruptness. But it was good after what I had seen below to find myself once more in the company of living people. Leversidge's surprise at seeing me reappear so soon was almost pathetic. He could scarcely contain his eagerness to question me, and as soon as the front glass of my helmet had been removed he accordingly set to work.
"What has brought you up from below so soon?" he inquired. "You have only been gone a quarter of an hour. Have you found the pearl?"
I shook my head. "I have not even been able to discover the man's cabin yet," I answered. "I came up because I needed a rest. I'm working at a big depth, you must remember. And, besides, there are those who are far from being the best of company down below."
"But tell me about the vessel herself," the old gentleman continued. "What is she like, and did you experience any difficulty in getting aboard her?"
I answered his questions to the best of my ability, and after a few minutes' rest ordered the glass to be screwed into the helmet again, and then once more descended to the bottom of the ocean.
Being familiar by this time with the best means of getting on board the wreck, it was not very long before I was making my way down the companion ladder into the saloon. Then, without wasting further time looking about me, I pushed on in search of the cabin I wanted, which, as I have already said, was on the port side, third door from the steward's pantry. It was not long before I found it, and had broken open the door. Having done so, I held my lamp aloft and entered. Never shall I forget the sight I saw there. Well prepared as I was for something gruesome, the horrible sight that now met my eyes almost overcame me. The body of Mr. Leversidge's unfortunate agent was lying on his chest, half in and half out of his bunk, for all the world as if he were looking for something under his pillow. His coat and waistcoat were off, otherwise he was fully dressed. Withdrawing my eyes from him, not without some difficulty, I looked about the cabin for his luggage, and for some moments could see no sign of it. Then I caught sight of a trunk and a Gladstone bag beneath one bunk, and another trunk beneath that opposite. All were as rotten as sodden brown paper, by reason of their long immersion in the salt water. By dint of some manœuvring, however, I managed to get them out of the cabin into the alleyway without disturbing the body in the bunk, and then by degrees carried them up the companion ladder to the deck above. Having done this, I signalled to my friends to lower their lines, and, as soon as I had made them fast, had the satisfaction of seeing them drawn up to the schooner above. This having been accomplished, I returned once more to that awful cabin in order to search the body and to make quite sure that I had left nothing behind me that I might afterwards wish I had brought away.
Reaching the cabin again, I—but there, how can I tell you the rest? Suffice it that I pulled the remains of what had once been Mr. Leversidge's agent out of his bunk, glanced at him, and then dropped him again with a cry that echoed in my helmet until I thought it would have burst the drums of both my ears. The shock of the discovery I had made was almost too much for me, and for upwards of a minute I leant against the bulkhead, staring at the poor corpse before me in stupefied amazement. Then I roused myself, and kneeling upon the floor began my search for something which, when I had found it, I placed carefully in the canvas bag I carried round my waist. Then I set off as fast as I could go to reach the surface once more. God knows I had made an astounding enough discovery in all conscience, and as I climbed the ladder I wondered what Mr. Leversidge would have to say to it.
CHAPTER VIII
So overpowered was I by the importance of the discovery I had made in the bowels of that sunken ship, that when I reached the top of the ladder and found myself standing once more among my fellow-men in the decent and clean world above the waves, it seemed as if I must begin my story to old Leversidge before the front glass of my helmet was removed; and, if such a thing were possible, his impatience was even greater than my own. There we stood, scarcely three feet apart, in the same world, breathing the same air, looking upon the same things, and yet to all intents and purposes for the time being as widely separate as the poles.
As soon, however, as the glass was removed I accepted my tender's assistance, and clambering aboard seated myself on the combing of the main hatch. Beside me on the deck lay the sodden baggage, just as I had sent it up from the vessel below, as yet untouched. On seeing it I bade my tender, as soon as my helmet was removed, commence unpacking it. While he was thus employed Leversidge stood opposite me, his lips trembling and his fingers itching to draw me away in order that he might question me as to the result of my search. When, therefore, I was attired in civilized dress, he could no longer contain himself, but putting his arm through mine, and picking up the baggage from the seat, drew me away towards the cabin aft, where, having made certain that we were alone, he seated himself at the table and once more eagerly scanned my face.
"What have you to tell me?" he inquired, in a voice so changed that it almost startled me. "You have discovered something which has surprised you. I can see that much in your face. What is it? Have you got the pearl?"
"One thing at a time, if you please," I answered. "I must take your questions in their proper order. To begin with, let me confess that I have not got the pearl. It is just possible that it may be in that luggage I sent up from below, though I must say for my own part I don't think it probable. At any rate, if it is not there, I can only hazard a guess as to where it can be. Certainly it is not on the person of the drowned man, for I searched him thoroughly before I came up."
Almost before I had finished speaking he had seated himself on the floor beside the bag he had brought with him to the cabin. It must have been a cheap concern when new, for to wrench it open now was a matter of very small difficulty. The material of which it was composed was certainly not leather, but some sort of composition, which tore away from its fastenings like so much brown paper. I sat still, smoking my pipe and composedly watching him while he pitched on to the floor the various articles it contained. It was evident from the expression on his face that he was not repaid for his search. At any rate, signs of a pearl there were none, nor were there any indications to show that it had ever been kept in there at all. The old man turned the heap of clothes over and over, and afterwards examined the bag most carefully, but no amount of looking could show him the article for which he was so ardently searching. Having at length convinced himself that it was not there he turned to me again.
"It is quite certain," he said, looking up at me sharply, "that it is not in this bag. Are you sure there was no other luggage in the cabin?"
"Quite sure," I answered. "But, before we go any further, perhaps you had better let me tell you all that I discovered when I was down below. Heaven knows it throws a new enough light upon the subject."
"Go on," he said, pushing the things he had taken out of the bag away from him as he spoke. "Tell me everything. You know how impatient I am. What is it you have discovered?"
"I will tell you," I answered. "As I said just now, when I entered the cabin I saw the body of your agent lying half in and half out of his bunk. From the state of his toilet it was plain that he had not retired for the night when the vessel struck, as you remember the Reverend Colway-Brown stated. It struck me as strange, therefore, that he had not been able to get out of his cabin during the brief time allowed the unfortunate passengers for escape. However, that is neither here nor there. There is one point which dwarfs all the others. Having discovered this luggage, which you have now examined, and sent it up to you, I determined to search the person of the man himself for the pearl. I did so only to make one terrible discovery."
"What was that?" cried Mr. Leversidge, in an agony of impatience. "For Heaven's sake, man, get on quicker with your story. Why don't you come to the point? Can't you see that you are driving me distracted with your shilly-shallying? What was the matter with our man that he caused such a shock to your feelings?"
I paused for a moment, fixed my eyes hard upon him, and then said impressively, "He has been murdered. His throat was cut from ear to ear."
If the matter had not been so terribly serious I should have felt inclined to laugh at the expression upon the old gentleman's face. He was as white as a sheet, his eyes started half out of his head, and his mouth opened and shut like a fish fresh taken from his native element. It was nearly half a minute before he could find sufficient voice to answer me.
"Murdered!" he cried. "My God, what do you mean, Collon? You must be mad to say such a thing. How could he have been murdered? And who could have done it?"
"That he was murdered admits of no doubt," I answered. "There was the proof before me. What is more, for the reason that the victim was preparing to retire to rest, it is plain it must have been done just before the vessel struck."
"But who did it, think you? Did you discover any clue that could tell us that? Not that it matters much, seeing that both murderer and victim are now dead."
"Don't be too sure of that. We know the victim is dead, but of the man who killed him I am not so sure."
"What do you mean?"
In answer I took from the locker beside me the small canvas bag I had worn strapped round my waist when I visited the vessel. I plunged my hand into it and drew out something that I pushed across the table to my friend. He picked it up with a cry of astonishment.
"A razor!" he cried. "But doesn't this look as if the man did away with himself?"
"I think not," I answered. "Just look at the white handle and tell me if you know the name upon it."
He took out his glasses, and, having placed them upon his nose, carefully examined the bone handle of the deadly weapon I had given him. This time he was even more astonished than before, and, if the truth must be told, more shocked.
"Colway-Brown," he said to himself; "why, bless my soul, that's the name of one of the sole survivors from the wreck, the person to whom we telegraphed from Batavia, the clergyman who gave us the last news of the dead man. What does this terrible thing mean?"
"If you ask what I think," I said very slowly and deliberately, "I think it looks like a put-up job. If you will remember, when you gave me the outline of the case, you told me that attempts had been made to obtain the pearl before your agent left Australia. It is plain, therefore, that it was known to be in his possession. An individual accordingly ships as a parson, calls himself Colway-Brown, books a berth in the next cabin to that occupied by your unfortunate friend. There is only one thing, however, which beats me, and that, I must confess, is a stumper."
"What is it?"
"I can't understand what induced him to murder the man on that particular night of all others. It was such a stupid place to choose. He might have done it in Thursday Island and have got safely ashore, or he might have waited until they got to Batavia. To do it between two ports of call, and at such a time of night, seems to me like the work of a madman, and I can't make head or tail of it."
"Perhaps when the vessel struck the scoundrel determined to obtain the pearl or perish in the attempt."
"I'm afraid that won't do either, for by his own confession we know the Rev. Colway-Brown was on deck at the time she struck. He could not, therefore, have made his way down the companion ladder, crossed the saloon, and passed along the alleyway to the cabin, have entered, cut your agent's throat, found and possessed himself of the pearl, have returned to the deck and saved his own life in the few seconds that elapsed between the moment of the vessel's striking and her foundering."
"But if he did not do it then how do you account for it?" he asked.
"I can't account for it at all," I answered. "One thing, however, is self-evident. The suspicion is strongest against Colway-Brown, and, as your pearl is not among the dead man's effects or upon his body, it is only natural to suppose that it is in the custody of that reverend gentleman, who was so fortunate as to get ashore, not only with his life, but as he thought without being detected in his crime."
"The rascal, the double-dyed rascal. But he needn't think he has beaten us. I'll run him to earth and he shall swing for this, or my name is not Leversidge."
"But you have got to catch him first," I said, "and from the sample he has already given us of his prowess I incline to the belief that he's as slippery a customer as ever wore shoe-leather."
"Nevertheless he shall hang, or I'll know the reason why."
"I think I can tell you the reason why," I said quietly. "He won't hang, because when everything is said and done it would be about the most inadvisable step you could take, in your own interests and those of your firm, to bring him before a court of Justice. You're not particularly anxious, I suppose, that the Government should become aware of your visit to this wreck?"
"Very naturally," he replied. "I have already told you that, I think."
"In that case how do you propose to show that you became aware of the fact that your man was murdered? and if you will excuse my saying so, I cannot help thinking that you will find it an extremely difficult, if not quite impossible, task to prove that our friend Colway-Brown was the man who committed this terrible crime."
"Not at all," he answered. "What about the razor? We know that it is his property, and if it was not with it that the murder was committed, how do you account for it being in his cabin?"
"I am not attempting to account for it at all," I answered. "I am simply endeavouring to show you how futile it would be in all probability to try to bring the crime home to the man whom we suspect."
"Then what do you propose doing?"
I thought for a few moments before I answered.
"Well, as far as I can see, the best plan would be," I said, "to follow our reverend friend up, and when we have got him in a close corner, just to tax him with his crime and threaten to hand him over to Justice if he does not return to you the property he stole. If this is judiciously managed there should not be much difficulty in obtaining from him what you want."
"But supposing he has parted with the pearl in the meantime, what then? A nice position we should find ourselves in."
"I don't think he is likely to dispose of it just yet," I answered. "You see he would not have an opportunity. He would be afraid to try it on in Thursday Island, where the pearl was known, or, for the matter of that, in Australia at all. What is more, he'll not be likely to hurry, having no notion that there is anybody on his track. He knows he is the only soul who escaped from the wreck, and he is certain to think his victim will remain undiscovered for all time. With a little luck you should be able to catch him before he can get away."
"But you speak of my catching him. Surely you do not intend to let me go on alone? Remember I set such store by your assistance."
"If you wish it I will, of course, go through the business with you," I answered. "But it looks like being a bigger affair than I at first contemplated, and my time is valuable."
"It shall be made worth your while; you need have no fear on that score. And now, I suppose, it is no use our remaining here; what shall we do?"
"Up anchor and be off to Thursday Island as fast as we can go," I said promptly.
"And when we get there?"
"Seize the Reverend Colway-Brown as soon as possible, if he's there, and frighten him into handing over the jewel he has so wrongfully taken possession of, by the best methods in our power."
"And if he has left the island?"
"Then we'll follow him like bloodhounds until we catch him, even if we have to go half round the world to do it."
"You mean it?"
"I do," I answered.
"Then shake hands on it."
We shook hands, and in less than a quarter of an hour the schooner was bowling along under a merry breeze towards Thursday Island, and its most important inhabitant, as far as we were concerned, the Reverend Colway-Brown.
CHAPTER IX
The sun was in the act of disappearing behind the fringe of jungle which clothes the western hilltops of Thursday Island, when our schooner passed through Prince of Wales' Straits and dropped her anchor off the small township of Port Kennedy. Every one on board was on deck at the moment, and I can vouch for the fact that in two minds at least, those of Mr. Leversidge and myself, there was a feeling of intense excitement. Ever since we had sat together in the schooner's cabin, and I had told him of the terrible discovery I had made in his agent's berth on board the Monarch of Macedonia, we had been longing for the moment to arrive when we should reach the island, and either find ourselves face to face with the Reverend Colway-Brown or learn something which would eventually lead us to him. That he would be foolish enough, after what had happened, to remain any longer in the island than he could help, I did not for a moment suppose. He would naturally be anxious to put as many miles as possible between himself and the wreck, and also to reach some place where he could dispose of the jewel. There were half a hundred reasons why he should not attempt to do so in Thursday Island. In the first place, there was no one there who could give him the price he would be likely to ask, and in the second it must be remembered that it was in this very locality it had first made its appearance and attracted so much attention. To have shown it there, or to have allowed any one to have suspected its presence, would have been an act of the wildest folly, and it was plain that the Reverend Colway-Brown was no fool. For these reasons I felt convinced in my own mind that when we went ashore to make inquiries we should find our bird flown.
Prior to sighting the island we had held a conference with the skipper in the deck-house, when Mr. Leversidge had discharged the amount due for the hire of the vessel, and at the same time had supplemented it with a handsome present to her officers and crew. As far as they were concerned I was sure the secret of our visit to the wreck would be in safe hands.
This business matter having been settled to every one's satisfaction, as soon as the anchor was down we collected our baggage and descended into the boat which was waiting for us alongside. As we did so a steamer rounded the point and approached the anchorage. I recognised her and made a note of the fact in my own mind for future use, in case it should be necessary.
It was not the first time I had been in Thursday Island by many a score, and I was well acquainted with the customs and peculiarities of the place and its inhabitants. I did not, therefore, waste my time making inquiries in any of the grog shanties beside the beach, but passed along the front until I reached the most gorgeous caravanserai of all, the Hotel of All Nations. It was here, I felt certain, if anywhere, that we should hear some tidings of the man we were after. Accordingly, I walked through the verandah, and, with Mr. Leversidge at my heels, entered the bar. The real business hour had not yet arrived, and for this reason, save for a Kanaka asleep in a corner, and a gorgeously upholstered youth polishing glasses behind the counter, the bar was deserted. It was plain that the latter had never seen me before, or, if he had, that he had forgotten both my name and the circumstances under which we had last met. I accordingly bade him call his employer to me.
"Good gracious, can it be you, Mr. Collon?" exclaimed the latter as he entered the room and saw me standing before him; "I thought you were in China. Leastways, Bill Smith, of the Coral Queen, was only saying yesterday that the mate of the Chang Tung saw you at Foochow the last time he was up there, which was about five months ago."
"Five months is a long time," I said, with a laugh. "It is possible for a good deal to happen in that time. Five months ago, if you had told any of the people who went down in the Monarch of Macedonia what was before them, they would not have believed you."
"That was a bad thing, wasn't it?" he replied, shaking his head. "I suppose you know that the only persons who escaped were brought on here. As a matter of fact, I took them in."
"I guessed as much," I answered. "I said to my friend here, as we came along, that I felt certain they would come to the Hotel of All Nations."
"Yes; I took them in. The foremast hand, however, went up in the China boat the following day; but the Rev. Colway-Brown stayed longer."
"The deuce he did!" As I said this I glanced at the bar-tender, who was listening with both his ears. I had no desire that he should hear what we had to say, so I drew his employer a little on one side, saying, "By the way, Birch, can we have five minutes with you alone in your own private room?"
"And why not?" he replied. "Surely, if there's one man in this world who's we'come, it's you, Dick Collon. Come along with me, gentlemen, and let us have our talk together."
A few moments later we were installed in the hospitable landlord's private office, from the windows of which a magnificent view could be obtained of the harbour, the islands beyond, and, on a very clear day, of Cape York, the most northerly coast line of Australia, peeping up miles away to the southward. Many and strange would be the stories that the room could tell were it possible for it to speak. In it men had sold their birthrights to all intents and purposes for a mess of pottage; in it others, who had hitherto been considered nobodies, had learnt the news that the tide of fortune had turned for them, and that for the future they were to take their places among the high-born of the earth. In that room men flying from justice in the South, who had believed themselves beyond the reach of pursuit and had come ashore while the mail-boat coaled, had been arrested. For me alone that room had at least a hundred different memories and associations. I had been familiar with it for many years, but this much I can safely say, never had I entered it on such a strange errand as that which was now engrossing all my attention.
"Well, what can I do for you?" asked Birch, when he had invited us to be seated and had closed the door behind him.
"I want to ask a particular favour of you," I said. "I want you to tell me all you know about the Reverend Colway-Brown."
"The man we were speaking of just now?" Birch asked, with an expression of surprise; "the only survivor from the wreck?"
"Exactly," I answered. "My friend here is very much interested in him, and is most anxious to find him."
"In that case I am afraid you have come too late," Birch replied. "He left for Brisbane last week in the Oodnadatta. He wanted to get back to Sydney, he said, as soon as possible. We took up a collection for him, and the steamship company granted him a free passage South. I reckon the poor chap wanted it, for he'd lost everything he possessed in the world, and came out of that wreck just as near stone broke as a man could well be."
"Feeling pretty miserable, too, I don't doubt," I said.
"Miserable is no word for it," he answered; "you never saw such a doleful chap, nor I'll be bound one half so frightened, in your life. All the time he was in this house he was just ready to jump away from his own shadow at a moment's notice. As nervous and timid as a baby. Couldn't bear to be left by himself, and yet as unsociable as could be when you were with him. Small wonder, say I, when you come to think of what he had been through. It's a mystery to me how he came out of it alive."
"Did he tell you much about it while he was here?" inquired Leversidge. "I suppose he gave you his experiences in detail?"
"That's just the funny part of it," Birch replied. "Do what you would you could not get that poor chap to talk about 'that terrible night,' as he called it. On any other subject he could be interesting enough when he liked, but directly you began to question him about the wreck or anything connected with the vessel, he would put his hands up to his eyes and shudder as if he saw the whole thing happening over again. For my own part I don't think he'll ever be able to forget it. It will be a nightmare to him as long as he lives."
"So I should imagine," said Leversidge, with such unusual emphasis that our host, who was in the act of pouring us out some refreshment, paused and looked at him in surprise.
I hastened to continue the conversation. "Poor chap!" I said; "from all accounts he must have stood pretty close to death that night. Now what we are trying to do is to find him. You say he went South last week in the Oodnadatta, intending to bring up in Sydney. You don't happen to know what his address is there, do you? It is of the utmost importance to us that we should find him with as little delay as possible."
Birch thought for a few moments, and then shook his head. "I'm afraid I can tell you nothing that would help you," he said. "All the fellow wanted from morning till night was to get South as fast as possible. His wife was in Sydney, he said, and he was afraid she would be anxious until she saw him in the flesh again. That was his one cry—get South—get South."
"And he never told you whether he lived in Sydney or out in the Bush?"
"He never told us where he lived at all. On that point he was as silent as an oyster."
"But if he's a parson, it should not be a very difficult matter to find out where his charge is," said Mr. Leversidge; "particularly now that there's been all this light thrown on his name. Of course you know of what persuasion he was a minister?"
Here to our amazement Birch smacked his knee and burst into a roar of laughter. This was more than I could stand. "Confound you," I said, "what on earth are you laughing at?"
"At the idea of your asking me what persuasion he was a minister of. It's as good as a play."
"How so? I don't see anything funny in it."
"Don't you? Well, then, I do," returned Birch. "In the first place, my old friend Collon, and you, Mr. Leversidge, it gives you both away pretty thoroughly. You told me just now that you knew the man and wanted to help him. All I can say is, that if you do you know precious little about him. Why, gentlemen, I tell you that that parson was as tough a bird as any I've met. He may or may not be a labourer in the vineyard, but all I can say is that, if he is, he's got the finest command of bad language for a minister that ever I've heard, and I can do a bit that way myself. The day after he landed here, one of my Kanaka boys spilt some hot soup on his hand at table, and he rounded on him and gave him the most infernal cursing ever I heard in all my born days. I tell you it made the whole table sit up like one man. If he talks to his congregation like that, it's no wonder they sent him home for a sea voyage."
Leversidge and I looked at each other, you may be sure, on hearing this.
"Well, if you can tell us nothing more, I'm afraid it's no use our waiting on in the island. There's a mail-boat at anchor now. I think the best thing we can do, Mr. Leversidge, would be to board her and set off for Brisbane, en route to Sydney, as quickly as we can go."
"I agree with you," answered my companion. "Good-day, Mr. Birch, and thank you for your courtesy."
"Don't mention that, I beg, sir," returned the affable Birch. "I only wish I could do more to help you in your search for your friend."
I shook hands with him in my turn, and was following Leversidge towards the verandah steps, when Birch called me back. Sinking his voice he said, "What is it, Dick, my lad? What's your little game? Why do you want this swearing parson so badly?"
"A matter of business," I answered; "a mere matter of business."
Birch smiled knowingly, and winked at me. "A Hatton Garden bit of business, I suppose," he said. "You surely don't think I failed to recognise your friend, did you? Now, shall I do you a good turn?"
"By all means," I replied. "I'd do you one if I could."
"Well, then, take this on board with you, and think it over at your leisure. The day the parson left us he came to me alone in my room yonder and offered me——"
"Offered you what?" I said, forgetting that I might be overheard.
"One of the finest black pearls I ever saw or heard of," he answered. "He wanted me to buy it, but I refused, so he had to take it away with him to his poor wife in Sydney. There, what do you think of that?"
"Thank you, John," I said, warmly shaking him by the hand. "You've told me just what I wanted to know. Good-bye."
On the way down the hill I informed Leversidge of what I had been told. He stopped in the dust and looked at me. "Good," he said, wagging his head sagaciously. "That removes all doubt as to whether he was the man who stole the pearls."
"And it also proves without a shadow of a doubt that he was the demon who cut your agent's throat. My Reverend Colway-Brown, there is a day of retribution saving up for you, or I'm very much mistaken."
"But what do you think of it all?"
"What do I think? Why, I think his reverence must have been a little off his head when he offered Birch that pearl. It's by slips like that that they give themselves away. Now here's the boat; let's board her and continue the chase."
CHAPTER X
Within an hour and a half of our setting foot ashore in Thursday Island from the schooner, we were on board the mail-boat en route for Brisbane and the South. It was a glorious evening, and the beauty of the scenery as one approaches and enters the famous Albany Pass is, I am prepared to say, second to none in the maritime world. I am afraid, however, on this particular occasion our thoughts were too much occupied with the chase we were engaged in, and the news we had so lately received, for us to be able to give very much attention to anything else. Our quarry had had a good week's start of us, and it was just possible in that time he might have found an opportunity of giving us the slip altogether. But he was not going to do so if I could help it. For some reason or another, apart from the crime he had committed, I had conceived a violent hatred of the man, and I was fully determined not to let him slip through my fingers and escape to enjoy the fruits of his villainy if it could be prevented.
On reaching Cooktown, our first port of call, and a starting-point of much of the island trade, I informed Mr. Leversidge that it was my intention to go ashore in order to make quite certain that he had not left his vessel there. The old gentleman was not feeling very well that day, and it was with the utmost reluctance that he confessed his inability to accompany me.
"But my absence is of no consequence," he was kind enough to say. "I have the most implicit confidence in you, and I am sure you will make all the necessary inquiries quite as well without me. I have only one request to make, however, and that is, that you come on board again as soon as possible, in order to let me know if you have discovered anything that is likely to be of use to us. You can imagine how impatient I shall be to hear your news."
"I won't be an instant longer than I can help," I answered. "As soon as I have made the necessary inquiries, I'll return."
Then bidding him good-bye, I made my way ashore and up the one long and dusty street which constitutes the business portion of Cooktown. The first thing to be done was to visit the office of the steamship company's agent to endeavour to find out whether they could tell me anything concerning the Reverend Colway-Brown. This, it appeared, the agent was quite unable to do. He had seen the gentleman in question on board the vessel, he told me, but beyond having congratulated him on his marvellous escape, he had no further conversation with him. Somewhat disappointed at the meagreness of his information, I left him, and went on up the street, intending to make inquiries at an hotel kept by an old diving acquaintance, who, I felt sure, would have made it his business to see the man in question had he come ashore.
Reaching the house, I entered it, to find my old mate sitting behind the bar, reading a sporting article from the Australasian to a man who was lounging on a bench near the door smoking a cigar.
On seeing me, he sprang to his feet, and, seizing my hand, shook it until I began to think he was never going to let it go again.
"Dick Collon, by all that's glorious!" he cried. "Well, who'd have thought of seeing you down here again! I was told you had given up these waters altogether. What brings you to Cooktown?"
"Can't you see?" I answered. "Don't I look as if I needed a change of air?"
"Change of air be hanged!" he replied, with a laugh. "You never needed such a thing in your life. Is there any one with you?"
"Only an old chap from England," I said; "I am showing him the beauties of Australia."
"What's his name?"
"Leversidge," I replied. "He's a little under the weather to-day, or I'd have brought him along with me. He's out here looking for a man—the chap, in fact, who escaped from the Monarch of Macedonia, the Reverend Colway-Brown."
"The deuce he is! And can't he find him?"
"He hasn't done so yet. It was to discover if you could tell us whether he came ashore here that brought me up to see you."
"I'm sorry I can't help you, old man; but what does he want to see him about? That's, of course, if it isn't private business."
"He wants to find out what the parson can tell him about a friend who went down in the boat from which he was so lucky as to escape—that's all."
"Well, I'm only sorry I can't help you," he said, but with a little hesitation that I did not fail to notice. "And now tell me more about yourself. Remember, it's ages since last we met."
We chatted for a while together about old days. Then the man who had been smoking near the door joined us in a drink, and after a little more talk about horse-racing and things in general I said I must be getting back to my boat. On hearing that I intended walking towards the harbour, the bookmaker-looking party, who had thrust himself upon us, decided to accompany me, and while we were upon the way was so good as to offer to show me, for a consideration, a number of excellent means of making a fortune upon the Australian turf. To his mortification, however, we parted, without my deciding to avail myself of his assistance.
Upon my informing Mr. Leversidge, when I reached his cabin, of the success I had met with, we unitedly came to the conclusion that our man had not left the boat in Cooktown, as we had thought possible, but must have continued his voyage in her towards a more southern port. On hearing, however, that our departure would be delayed for at least a couple of hours, I determined to go ashore again for another stroll. Eventually I found myself once more in my old mate's house. He received me with great hilarity, and it soon became evident that during my absence he had been sampling his own wares to considerable purpose. The bar was crowded, and when I entered it was plain that he had been retailing some good jest, for the laughter that followed was long and uproarious.
"Come in, old lad," he cried on seeing me. "You're the very man we want, for we were just talking of you. The boys here want to shake you by the hand."
Wondering what the joke could be, and thinking it behoved me to find out, I complied with his request.
"I don't know when I've laughed so much," began my friend, as he poured me out some whisky. "And I'll bet all I'm worth, you never as much as suspected, did you now?"
"Never suspected what?" I asked, rather sharply, finding my temper rising at the grins I saw upon the faces round me. "Out with it, old man; let me know what the joke is."
"Well, it's a good one, you may be sure of that," he answered. "There you were hob-nobbing together as thick as thieves. 'Ptarmigan's the horse,' says he. 'I'm not so sure,' say you. 'I'll back him against your choice for a fiver,' says he. But you weren't on. And all the time you never suspected for an instant that he was neither more nor less than the very man you were inquiring about this afternoon, the chap who escaped from the Monarch of Macedonia a few weeks back."
"What?" I cried, scarcely able to believe that I heard aright. "Do you mean to tell me that that seedy old beggar who talked so much about horse-racing and walked with me to the harbour side was the Reverend Colway-Brown, the man I asked you about?"
"The very man," he answered, and as he did so he brought his hand down with a smack upon my shoulder. "I can tell you, Dick, I nearly burst my sides with laughing when I saw you two jabbering away together."
Seeing how I had been taken in, the crowd in the bar thought fit to laugh. But when I ran my eye over them they changed their minds and looked another way. I was so angry, I could have thrashed Donovan for the trick he had played me. It didn't take him long, however, to see I was annoyed.
"Come, come, Dick, old man," he said, "you mustn't be angry with me. I couldn't do anything else. He spent a week in my house here, you see, and was uncommon free with his money. What's more, when he came to me, he told me he didn't want it to be known that he was the man who escaped, as everybody stared at him so. For this reason he changed his name, and I promised I'd not give him away to anybody, so I couldn't, even to you."
"It's plain I've been had, and badly too," I said angrily. "You've spoiled a rare good bit of business for me, and I don't take it kindly of you, Jim. Where is the fellow now?"
"Aboard the schooner Friendship," he answered, "lying alongside your own boat. He's left my house now, so I don't mind telling you that. But you will have to look sharp if you want to catch him; he sails to-night."
Without another word I left the place and ran down the street as hard as I could go. I remembered having seen the schooner alongside us when I had left the mail-boat, but when I got there now she was gone. "Where's the schooner that was lying here?" I inquired of some loafers I discovered hanging about the wharf.
"The Friendship, do you mean?" asked one of the men. "Why, there she is, out yonder!"
He pointed to a white sail that was just disappearing round the opposite headland. On seeing that, I clenched my fist with rage, and bestowed the reverse of a blessing upon Jim Donovan. But for his putting me off the scent I might by this time have brought the chase to a successful issue. However, the man was safely out of my clutches now, and no amount of wishing would bring him back again. I dreaded, however, the task of telling old Leversidge how easily I had been taken in.
"Do you know where the schooner is bound for?" I inquired of the man beside me, who had all this time been watching my face.
"For the Gilberts first, and then on to Honolulu," he answered.
I thanked him and then made my way back to the steamer to acquaint my employer with my failure. He heard my tale out to the end, and though I could see he was bitterly disappointed, did not once upbraid me for my stupidity.
"Nonsense, my dear fellow!" he said, in answer to my expression of regret. "You could not help it. You had never seen this Colway-Brown before, so how could you be expected to recognise him, particularly when he took such pains to deceive you? But what do you think is the best thing for us to do?"
"We must get down to Sydney with all speed, and catch a steamer there for Honolulu. With decent luck we should arrive at the island first. In the meantime I'm going to hunt up the owners of the Friendship, and get permission to board their schooner when she arrives. They know me, and I think will grant it."
This I did, and when I had explained my reason, in confidence, to the head of the firm, my request was immediately granted. Armed with a letter to their captain, I returned to the mail-boat, and in less than half an hour we were continuing our voyage to the South. Arriving at Brisbane, we caught the mail train to Sydney, and within five hours of our arrival in the capital of New South Wales were on board the steamer Pride of the Pacific, bound for Honolulu viâ Fiji. It was, indeed, a race against time, and the Reverend Colway-Brown, murderer and thief, was the prize.
CHAPTER XI
Who that has ever seen it will forget daybreak on a fine morning in Honolulu Harbour? Surely no one. The background of tree-clad island, so dark yet so suggestive of tropical luxuriance; the sky overhead so full of rainbow hues, and the sea so calm and yet possessed of all the colours of the inside of a pearl shell. When one sees it one is forced to the conclusion that there could never be another like it. It is beautiful beyond conception.
The sun had not yet made his appearance above the horizon when Mr. Leversidge and I left the hotel at which we had been residing since our arrival in the island, and made our way down to the small steamer we had chartered, and which had been ordered to be ready to put to sea with us at a moment's notice. Information had been brought to us late the night before that the schooner, whose coming we had been so eagerly awaiting, had been sighted further down the coast, and, in consequence, we were anxious to put off to her as soon as might be.
"The chase is growing exciting," said Mr. Leversidge, as we crossed the gangway and bade the skipper "Good-morning!" "It is to be hoped the reverend gentleman has not left his vessel in the Gilberts and made off in another direction. In that case we shall in all probability have lost sight of him for good and all."
"I'm not afraid of that," I answered. "In the first place he would not be able to get enough for his booty there to make it worth his while to sell, and in the second I have a sort of conviction that he is making for America. Such a pearl as he has with him would command a much better figure in San Francisco than it would be likely to do either here or in the Gilberts, and from what I have seen of the man I should say he was quite smart enough to be aware of that fact."
"I am glad to hear you say so," returned Mr. Leversidge. "Nevertheless, I shall not feel easy in my mind until I have it in my possession once more. I shall not forget the chase this man has given us as long as I live."
"I don't suppose you will," I said. "It has been exciting enough in all conscience. I only hope the finish may be satisfactory."
"I hope it may," he answered quietly. And just then I heard the skipper whistle the engine-room, and presently we cast off our moorings and got under weigh. Throwing a trail of black smoke behind us we left the harbour and passed out to sea, the mate at the wheel, the skipper pacing the bridge, and Leversidge and I straining our eyes in search of the vessel for which we were so anxiously waiting. It was upwards of an hour, however, before we saw her white sails rising above the sea line ahead of us. Half an hour later only five miles or so separated us, and every moment was bringing us closer to each other. When we had come so near that we could even distinguish the people standing on her decks, I approached our commander.
"Now then, captain," I said, "the sooner you lay us on board that boat the better we shall be pleased. I've a letter to deliver to the skipper from his owners, and it must be in his possession with as little delay as possible."
"I'll do my best," he answered, and immediately put his helm over.
The schooner's captain, seeing that we wished to speak him, hove his vessel to, when our skipper sang out that he would send a boat. One was soon alongside, and into her, when her crew had taken their places at the oars, Mr. Leversidge and I bundled. Ten minutes later we had been hauled aboard the schooner, and I was presenting the captain with the letter I had received from his owners.
He read it carefully, and having done so turned to me: "This is a pretty serious matter, Mr.——,"—here he paused and consulted the letter again—"Mr. Collon. But I don't see how I'm to gainsay you. My owners say I'm to permit you to act as you think best with regard to my passenger, so I suppose you must have your way. Still, I don't feel easy in my mind."
"You need not worry yourself, captain," I said. "Whatever happens, you may be sure your owners will not hold you responsible. Is the man we want on deck, or must we look for him below?"
"He's not out of his bunk yet, I believe," replied the skipper; "but if you will follow me below I'll soon ascertain."
We accompanied him, as directed, along the deck and down the companion ladder. Entering the small cuddy he informed Mr. McGuire that two gentlemen desired to speak to him, and then shrugged his shoulders, and made his way up on deck again. He could barely have reached it before a man, clad in a suit of filthy pyjamas, and with his hair standing nearly on end, and his eyes almost out of his head, emerged from the cabin opposite which we were sitting and confronted us. I saw him start back against the bulwarks and throw up his hands as if to shut out the memory of our faces, and almost at the same moment I heard my companion utter a little cry, followed by the words, "My God, what's this?" Then McGuire, or Colway-Brown, by which name we knew him better, clutched at the panelling, missed it, and gradually slid down until he fell in a heap upon the deck. The recognition had been too much for him, and he had fainted.
When he recovered his senses, we lifted him up and placed him on a locker beside the table. A more miserable figure could scarcely have been found in all the Southern Seas. Again and again he looked at Leversidge, and every time he looked he groaned. I was more puzzled than I could express. The old gentleman's face alone was worth walking a long way to see. At last he got his breath, and was able to use his voice.
"You miserable, cheating hound!" he cried, springing to his feet and speaking with a vehemence that astonished me quite as much as the scene which occasioned it. "Do you mean to tell me that it is you who have been playing this trick upon us? Am I to understand that you are the dog who has led us this dance? By heavens, you shall pay for it as severely as ever man paid yet!"
Here he paused for breath, and I seized the opportunity to ask for an explanation.
"Don't you understand?" he cried, wheeling round to me, his eyes flaming, and his usually florid countenance now white with rage. "This miserable wretch is no more the Reverend Colway-Brown than I am."
"Indeed!" I said, with my mouth wide open with surprise. "Then who is he?"
"My own agent—the man we trusted. The man who was to have brought the pearl to England!"
"This is really very pretty," I said, as soon as I had recovered from my astonishment. "And, what's more, it explains a good many things that I could not understand. No wonder he took fright when I mentioned your name at Donovan's Hotel in Cooktown. Had it not been for that bilious attack of yours you would have been with me, and, in that case, you would have recognised him, and we should have been spared this voyage across the Pacific. But still there is one matter that requires consideration." Here I turned to the wretched fellow before us. "If the Reverend Colway-Brown did not murder the agent, it is plain that the agent must have murdered the Reverend Colway-Brown. We gave the parson the credit of that business. It appears, however, that we were mistaken."
By this time the wretched man's agony was almost painful to witness. Try how he would he could not recover his self-possession. Prior to that moment he had imagined himself accused of mere stealing, while the secret of the more serious charge he believed to be still safely locked up in the mail-boat cabin at the bottom of the sea. It came upon him, therefore, as a greater shock to find his crime discovered, and by the very man of all others of whom he had the greatest reason to be afraid. Small wonder that he felt ill at ease. In my own heart I'm afraid I pitied him, but not when I thought of the sinking mail-boat and the wild struggle in cabin 33.
"What have you to say for yourself?" asked Leversidge, turning to the other again. "Are you aware that we have only to convey you ashore in order to give you into custody as the murderer of Colway-Brown?"
"I am aware of that," cried the wretched man; "but you do not know everything. You do not know what I had to put up with. You can have no idea of the temptations that were placed in my way. He was one of the gang that dogged my steps first from Melbourne to Sydney, and then on to Brisbane. I was surrounded, morning, noon, and night, by thieves and murderers. I scarcely dared close my eyes for fear I should never open them again, or if I did that I should find my precious charge gone. This man you call Colway-Brown was the head of the gang, but it was not until we had reached Thursday Island that I found him out. Then he began to hang round me on deck and in my cabin, talking always of pearls and precious stones, and trying to induce me to be friendly with him. On the night of the wreck he came into my berth, just as I was thinking of retiring to rest. One glance showed me that he was under the influence of liquor, and I also noticed that he carried one hand in his pocket in a suspicious sort of fashion. Presently he came up alongside me as I stood beside my washstand basin, and before I knew what he was about had whipped a razor from his pocket and was trying for my throat. I was too startled by the suddenness of it all to cry out, but not sufficiently so as to be unable to defend myself. I wrestled with him with the strength of despair, and at last was fortunate enough to get the mastery and to throw him upon the deck. Then the devil, who arranges all these things for his own benefit, you may be sure, got hold of me, and for a few moments I was not conscious of what I did. I remember looking down at him as he lay below me on the deck, and I also remember seizing the razor, which had fallen from his hand, and giving myself a nasty cut in so doing. After that I am not sure of my actions; but one thing is very certain, when I rose to my feet his throat was cut from ear to ear. You, Mr. Leversidge, who are so angry with me now, may not believe me when I say so, but I tell you that I fell back against my berth trying to find the pluck to kill myself when I thought of what I had done. But I could not do it. I leaned against my bunk and hid my face in my blood-stained hands, sobbing as if my heart would break. Then I looked down at the man, and seeing that he was quite dead, wondered how I could best manage to save my neck from the fatal noose.
"While I was trying to collect my thoughts, and wondering what I should do, the vessel quivered from stem to stern; then I heard a noise on deck, a shouting and trampling of feet. I immediately left my cabin and ran up the companion ladder as fast as I could go, only to find the great ship sinking. What happened during the next few minutes I cannot say; indeed, I do not remember anything of what happened until I found myself floating on the surface of the water, wondering how long I should remain alive. The rest you know. I was saved, with one other man, and, what was more, I had the pearl with me. It is my belief it is accursed. It was not until I was out of the water, and found that there were only two of us saved, that the idea occurred to me to impersonate the dead man, and thus keep the jewel for myself. I fought with it, God knows how hard, but it was too strong for me, and at last I gave in. The chances, I argued, were all in my favour. So far as I knew, with the exception of the foremast hand, who did not know one passenger from another, I was the only survivor. Your agent was supposed to be drowned. If, therefore, I called myself Colway-Brown, I might escape detection.
"When I reached Thursday Island, intending to strike for America, where I thought I should have a better opportunity of selling my stolen property without being detected, I called myself by the name of the dead man. Then came your telegram asking for information concerning your agent. I answered it as I thought the spurious parson would have done, and told myself I should be troubled by you no more. The week following I left for the South, but every one was so curious to see me that I abandoned that idea and left the vessel at Cooktown, intending to change into this boat, and so make my way viâ Honolulu to the States. But it was not to be. You, sir, found me at Jim Donovan's Hotel, and it was only by a stroke of good fortune that I managed to give you the slip. Now you, Mr. Leversidge, have caught me, and it remains for you to say what you will do."
I looked at Leversidge, who looked at me. The position was an awkward one. There could be no doubt that the man's story was a true one; and if so, for a part of it, at least, he deserved our pity.
It was Mr. Leversidge who solved the difficulty by inquiring what had become of the pearl. In answer the man fumbled in the breast-pocket of his coat, and presently drew out a small flat box, which he passed across the table.
"It is there, the cursed thing!" he said bitterly. "Would to God I had never seen it! It has wrought my ruin, body and soul."
With feverish earnestness Mr. Leversidge opened the box, and took from the cotton wool, with which it was filled, the finest black pearl I had ever set eyes on in the whole course of my experience. Seeing it, I could easily understand the temptation it had given rise to in the other's heart. Mr. Leversidge, however, replaced it in its nest, and stowed the box away in his pocket. Then he turned to the wretched man before us.
"You know in your own heart," he said, "whether the story you have told us regarding that man's death be true or not. In either case you may be sure of one thing, and that is, that your wretched secret is in safe keeping. May God forgive you, and permit you to work out your own salvation; we shall not punish you further. The rest is a matter for your own conscience."
Ten minutes later we were back on our own steamer, returning to Honolulu as fast as she could carry us, little dreaming what awaited us there.
CHAPTER XII
It was well-nigh mid-day before we reached our hotel; but as soon as we did so Mr. Leversidge placed the small box containing the pearl in a safe place. Having had such difficulty in finding it, he had no desire to run the risk of losing it again. This done, we devoted half an hour to business, and after that I went down to the agent's office to make inquiries about the mail-boat for Japan, which was due to arrive from San Francisco the following day. The remainder of the afternoon was occupied with calls upon old friends, and it was not until well after nightfall that I returned to our hotel. On arriving there, to my surprise, I found Mr. Leversidge in my bedroom in a state of wildest excitement. He was standing in the middle of the room holding the small wooden box containing the pearl in his hand. I inquired what was the matter.
"Thank Heaven you have returned," he cried. "Collon, I have made a terrible discovery. You will scarcely believe, but we've been swindled again, and in the most barefaced manner possible, by that seemingly repentant hound on board the steamer."
"What on earth do you mean?" I inquired, scarcely able to credit what he said. "How have we been swindled?"
In answer to my question he lifted the lid of the box and tipped its contents into the palm of his hand, which he held towards me in a theatrical fashion.
"We've been horribly taken in," he said. "This is not the pearl my firm purchased. It is a dummy—a fake, a make-believe. That clever rascal must have manufactured it himself for this express purpose, and all his protestations were as false as the pearl itself."
"What?" I cried. "I can't believe it. Let me look at the thing."
Taking it from him I examined it carefully. What he said was true. It was not genuine. At the same time, however, I am prepared to assert that it was the finest forgery of its kind I have ever come across in a fairly extensive experience. Until that moment, in my own heart, I had been despising the spurious Colway-Brown for a mere chicken-hearted cur, who, as soon as he was collared, wept and whined, and declared himself over-tempted and deeply repentant. Now, however, I was beginning to have a greater respect for him than I had yet felt, and for the simple and sufficient reason that in a trial of skill he had proved one too many for us.
"What can we do?" asked Mr. Leversidge. "By this time he may have changed to another boat, and have left the Island. In that case we shall have to commence our chase over again."
I was about to reply, when one of the native servants of the hotel entered the room and handed Mr. Leversidge a note, which he opened. Having read it he passed it on to me.
"Good heavens! I can scarcely believe it," I heard him say softly to himself. "Read that, Mr. Collon."
The note was from the captain of the schooner Friendship, and ran as follows:—
"To J. Leversidge, Esq.,
"Pacific Hotel, Honolulu.
"Dear Sir,—
"I regret exceedingly having to inform you that the man whom you visited on board my vessel this morning was, half an hour ago, shot by a person who had evidently been awaiting his arrival in this port. The murderer is in safe custody. As I understand from him that you were, or had been until lately, his employer, I thought it my duty to at once communicate with you.
"I am, Sir,
"Yours very obediently,
"J. Bolsover."
"This is retribution with a vengeance," I said. "But who can the murderer be?"
"One of the gang who was after the pearl in Australia, I'll be bound," returned Mr. Leversidge. Then the expression on his face suddenly changed, and he seized me by the arm. "For hundreds of reasons he would be certain to carry the pearl about his person. Can the murderer have stolen it, think you?"
"We will very soon ascertain," I answered, springing from the chair into which I had just thrown myself. "Come, Mr. Leversidge, we'll be off to the boat at once. This is no time for half measures."
So saying, we seized our hats and left the hotel in search of the schooner Friendship. When we got on board we found an unusual stillness reigning. The skipper greeted us at the entrance of the companion ladder and shook us by the hand. "This is a bad business, gentlemen," he said, "and I regret that it should have happened aboard my boat."
"A very bad business, as you say," Mr. Leversidge replied. "How long ago did it happen?"
"About an hour and a half," replied the other. "It was getting dark, when a man came aboard and asked to see your friend. He was standing just where we are now, and after they had said a few words they walked aft together. They must have started quarrelling at once, for as I went down the ladder to the cuddy I heard some high words pass between them, then a shot was fired, and your friend fell upon the deck. I rushed on deck and got there just in time to seize the murderer as he was going over the side. We clapped him in irons straight away, and as soon as we had done so, set ashore for the police."
"And the murdered man?"
"We carried him below, but he expired before we got him there. He lies now in his cabin. The police are coming to take him off in an hour's time. Perhaps you would like to see him?"
"Thank you," said Mr. Leversidge, and the captain led the way to the berth below, where he left us alone with the dead man.
"It's now, or never," I said. "If we want the pearl, we've got to find it before the police come off to take possession of the body, otherwise how are you going to establish your rights to it."
"But where do you intend looking for it?" Mr. Leversidge inquired.
"I'm going to begin by searching the body," I answered, "and then if we are permitted sufficient time, I shall take a look at his luggage. You had better guard the door."
As I spoke I took from my pocket a small, but exceedingly sharp pair of folding scissors, which I make a point of always carrying about with me. Then drawing back the blanket with which the body was covered, I ran my practised fingers over it. It is wonderful what a number of hiding-places the human frame contains. But it is the business of my life to know them all, and on this particular occasion it was not long before I discovered that high up under his right arm his coat had been carefully padded. To cut the lining was the work of a few seconds, and the results justified my expectations. "Here is your pearl, Mr. Leversidge," I said, holding it up, and a moment later I handed him the jewel in question. "Now let us get on deck as soon as possible. You had better leave your address, however, with the captain, in order that the police may know where to find you should your presence be required at the inquest."
He followed my advice, and then we descended to our boat alongside. Next morning, to obviate any chance of future inconvenience, we made it our business to attend at the police office, where we stated what we knew of the murdered man. Three hours later I bade Mr. Leversidge farewell on the hurricane deck of the American mail-boat.
"Good-bye, Mr. Collon," he said. "It seems strange to be parting like this after all we have gone through together. I thank you from the bottom of my heart for your co-operation. There is only one question I wish to ask you before you go."
"And what is that?"
"Was I right, or was I wrong, when I told you in Ceylon that I thought this case would prove to be one of the most extraordinary even in your varied repertoire?"
"You were quite right," I answered. "I have never known another like it. Good-bye."
"Good-bye, and may you always be equally successful."
Three months later, when I was just bringing to a conclusion a delicate bit of business in Cochin China, the incoming mail-boat brought me a small packet, which, when I had opened it, I discovered contained a valuable diamond ring, with a card bearing this inscription:—"To Christopher Collon, in recognition of a signal service rendered to Wilson, Burke & Leversidge, of Hatton Garden."
The great black pearl which was the cause of all that has been told in this story is now amongst the most valued jewels of an Empress. How little, when it lies black as night upon her snow-white bosom, does she think what it cost in human life, or of the part it played in the drama to which I now invariably refer as "A CRIME OF THE UNDER-SEAS."
The Phantom Stockman
"A remarkably charming situation, and as pretty a homestead as any I have seen in the Bush," I said. "You have certainly worked wonders during the short time you have been in possession."
It was a moonlight night, and Jim Spicer and I were sitting in the verandah of Warradoona Station in Western New South Wales. Ten o'clock had struck nearly half an hour before, and, at a quarter past, Mrs. Spicer had bidden us "Good-night" and had gone off to bed. On hearing that I did not feel tired, her husband had invited me to bring my pipe and grog into the verandah, where we could chat about old times without disturbing anybody. I had only arrived that afternoon from Melbourne, and, as we had not met for more than three years, it may be easily imagined that we had much to say to each other. Years before we had been on a station together in Queensland, had done two overlanding trips in the same party, and had more than once tried our luck upon the gold-fields in partnership. Then he had taken a billet as manager of a big station in the Far West, and I had gone south to Melbourne to give up the Bush and settle down to the humdrum business I had inherited from my father. My surprise may therefore be understood when one morning I received a letter from my old comrade, informing me that he was married and had taken a property on Warradoona Creek. He brought his letter to a conclusion by telling me that if I stood in need of a holiday, and would care to undertake the long journey out to his place, he would not only give me a hearty welcome, but would be very thankful for my assistance in unravelling a mystery which up to the time of writing had baffled him completely. What the mystery was he did not say.
Now, as all the Bush world knows, Warradoona, despite the fact that it is on the direct overlanding route to Western Queensland, is one of the most unget-at-able places on the face of our great Island Continent. To begin with, you have a four hundred mile railway journey, then a coach ride of upwards of two hundred more, which will bring you to the township of Yarrapanya, a settlement of four houses at the junction of Warradoona Creek with the Salt Bush River. In the township horses can be obtained, and with their assistance the remainder of the journey, upwards of a hundred miles, may be accomplished. At the best of times it is a tedious undertaking, but when the floods are out, or, on the other hand, in the summer season when there is no water at all, it becomes a peculiarly dangerous one. To compensate for these drawbacks, however, when you do reach the station you will receive as hearty a welcome as any to be obtained in the Bush. The property itself is a large one, and certainly the best in that district. The homestead is a neat Bush building constructed of wood, roofed with shingles, and boasting on every side a broad verandah. It is built on the side of a hill and overlooks the plain that separates the higher land from the river. Away to the north where the Ranges trend in towards the Creek, there is a narrow pass through which come all the overlanding parties bringing cattle from Queensland to the south. To the southward a dense Mulga Scrub commences, and clothes the whole face of the hills as far as the eye can reach. Across the river and lying some thirty miles due west is Yarka Station, where, at the time of which I write, resided Jim's nearest neighbour, the Honourable Marmaduke Chudfield, a young Englishman, who, after he had given his family repeated opportunities of studying the more frivolous side of his character, had been shipped to Australia, where it was confidently hoped hard work and a limited supply of money would turn him into a staid and respectable colonist.
"Yes," said Spicer, as he walked to the rail of the verandah, and looked down upon the moonlit plain, "it is, as you say, by no means a bad sort of place. As I shall show you to-morrow, the station buildings are above the average in point of completeness, the run is well sheltered and grassed, the supply of water is abundant, and, as you are aware, we are on the direct cattle route to the south. Moreover, I have got the place for a considerable period on exceptional terms."
"I congratulate you most heartily. Now tell me the disadvantages; for I suppose there are some."
"So far as I have seen there is only one. At the same time, however, I must confess that that one is quite big enough to outweigh all the advantages put together. In point of fact, it was that very disadvantage that made me write to you last week and endeavour to induce you to pay us a visit."
"Now I come to think of it, I remember in your letter you did speak of some mystery that you wanted cleared up. What is it? In these prosaic days mysteries, save in mining matters, are few and far between. I am all impatience to hear what shape yours assumes."
While I had been speaking Spicer had been leaning on the verandah rail looking down the hillside towards the river. Now he turned, and, placing his back against one of the posts that supported the roof, regarded me steadily for some seconds.
"First and foremost, old man," he said, "try to bear it in mind that I don't want to be laughed at. I've got so much at stake that I'm as touchy on the subject as an old man with the gout. The trouble I have to contend with is that this place is supposed to be haunted. I know it's a silly sort of thing for a matter-of-fact fellow like myself to say; but still the fact remains, and a remarkably unpleasant fact it is."
"The deuce it is," I replied. "And pray what is the place supposed to be haunted by?"
"By a man on a white horse who rides about on a plain down yonder."
"Is this only hearsay, or have you seen the apparition yourself?"
"I have seen him on three occasions," replied Spicer solemnly. "The first time was the week after I arrived on the place, the second was three months ago, and the last was the very Saturday upon which I wrote to you. But as if that were not enough, we have been worried ever since our arrival by the most dismal noises in the house itself."
"What sort of noises do you mean?"
"By all sorts, confound them! Sometimes by a shriek about midnight that fetches you up in bed with the perspiration rolling off your face; sometimes by moans and groans; and sometimes, but not so often, by a peculiar noise that is for all the world like a human voice, muffled by a blanket, trying to say, 'Save me, save me,' and not succeeding very well. As you know, I am a fairly plucky man, and for that reason I think I might manage to stand it myself; but then I've got some one else to consider. I have to think of my wife. Under ordinary circumstances she is as plucky a little woman as ever made her home in the Bush, but no woman's nerves would stand the continual strain that is put upon them here. You see, my work often takes me out on the run for days at a time, and I have to leave her alone. Female servants we have none, not so much even as a solitary black gin. When we came up we brought a woman with us from Melbourne, but she only stayed a week and then went off with the first bullock team that passed this way. However, we managed, by offering big wages, to get another. She stayed a month, and then said she would prefer to go off to the township alone rather than stay another night upon the place. We have been here five months and a week, and during that time I have had four men cooks, three chief stockmen, eight inferior ditto, and ten horse boys. As for a strange black, I've not seen one near the place since I first set foot upon it. The last time I was staying the night at Chudfield's place across the river, I tried to persuade one he wanted to get rid of to come over and keep my own two boys company. His answer was significant. 'Baal (no) come up this fella,' he said. 'Too much debbil debbil alonga Warradoona.' The long and the short of the matter is, old friend, unless I can manage to put a stop to this phantom business I shall be a ruined man. All my savings are locked up in this place, and if I don't make it pay, well, I must sell up and go back to Queensland and be a servant again instead of a master."
"It's a nasty position," I said. "I don't wonder you want to get it settled. By the way, how long has the place possessed this sinister reputation?"
"Only for the last three years," he answered.
"Is there any sort of story to account for it?"
Spicer was silent for a moment.
"Well, there you have me on a tender spot," he replied. "Though I don't like to own it, I must confess there is a story."
"Can you tell it to me?"
"If you think it will help you to a solution of the problem I shall be glad to do so. You must understand that about three years ago a mob of cattle camped, according to custom, upon the plain down yonder. They were on their way from Queensland to Adelaide, in charge of an old drover named Burke, a worthy old fellow who'd been on the road all his life. During the evening a quarrel arose between him and his second in command. From high words they came to blows, and in the encounter the subordinate got the worst of it. He professed to be satisfied and turned into his blankets apparently sorry for what he had done. An hour later the third white man of the party mounted his horse and went out to watch the cattle, leaving the other two, as he thought, asleep. When he returned two hours later he found Burke stabbed to the heart and the other man missing. Do you remember, when you crossed the river to-day, noticing a grave enclosed by a white railing?"
"Perfectly. I wondered at the time whose it could be."
"Well, that's where Burke is buried."
"The phantom, then, is supposed to be the ghost of the murdered man? What form does it take?"
"It is that of an old man with a long grey beard; he is dressed all in white and is mounted upon a white horse, who carries his head rather high. He holds a stock-whip in his hand and wears a white felt hat pulled far down over his eyes."
"Has anybody else seen him?"
"Dozens of people. It drove away Jamison, the first owner of the place, and the original builder of this house. Williams, from Mindana, came next; he built the men's hut away to the left there, and cleared out bag and baggage exactly three months to a day after he had paid his purchase money. He said he would rather lose five thousand pounds than stop another night on the place. Macpherson, a long-headed Scotchman, as hard as a tenpenny nail, and about as emotional as a brickbat, came next. He paid his money and was not going to lose it just because he heard funny noises and saw queer sights. But at the end of six months he had changed his tune. Money was no object to him, he said; he was content to lose every penny he possessed in the world provided he saw no more of Warradoona. Benson followed Macpherson. He got the place dirt cheap, cattle thrown in, and, from what the folk in the township told me, seemed to think he'd done a mighty smart stroke of business."
"What became of Benson?"
"He returned to the south without even unpacking his bullock wagons. He has bought a place in New Zealand now, I believe. It was from him that I purchased the property."
"And the price you paid for it?"
"Would be less than a quarter of its value but for the Phantom Stockman. As it is, I am upset on an average three nights a week; my wife is frightened nearly out of her wits every time she goes to bed; and with the exception of my head stockman, Ruford, and two black boys, I can keep no servants upon the place, and in consequence have to work my stock short-handed, which is an impossibility. To put it plainly, either the Phantom Stockman or I must go. I thought all this out last week and the upshot of my cogitations was my letter to you. I know from experience that you've got a cool head, and I have had repeated evidence of your pluck. Young Chudfield, my next-door neighbour, the man who, for the sake of my company, has done his level best to persuade me to give the place a further trial, has promised to come over and give us a hand, and if we three can't settle the mystery between us, well, I think we ought to be ashamed of ourselves, that's all."
"We'll certainly have a good try," I answered. "I'm not a believer in ghosts myself, and it will go hard with us if we can't manage to discover of what sort of material our troublesome friend is composed. One further question. Does he put in an appearance at regular intervals, or is he indiscriminate in his favours?"
"As far as he is personally concerned he is fairly regular. It is about the full of the moon that he appears to be most active, but the noises in the house go on at all hours, sometimes two or three nights in succession. Then perhaps there will be a week's silence, after which we will be worried night after night, till we are nearly driven distracted."
"It seems a most mysterious affair," I said. "And I can quite understand that you are worried by it."
"You would say so if you had to live here," he answered. "It gets on your nerves till you feel inclined to jump away from your own shadow. Now I expect you're tired, and would like to be off to roost. Help yourself to a night-cap, and then we'll have a look at your room together."
I had leant forward to the table and taken up the demijohn containing the spirit—in point of fact, I was in the act of pouring some of its contents into my glass—when from the dark house behind us there came a long, low moan, followed by a shriek that cut the still night air like the sharp tearing of a sheet of calico. After that there was complete silence, which to my thinking was worse even than the scream. I sprang to my feet.
"My God," I cried, "what's that?"
But Spicer only laughed in a curious way.
"You are being introduced to our supernatural friend," he replied. "Now you know the sort of thing we are being continually called upon to put up with."
"But it sounded so intensely human," I said. "And yet, now I come to think of it, there was a peculiar muffled note about it that rather upsets my theory. One thing, however, is quite certain: it came from the house, and I should say from the centre passage."
"You are quite right. That's where we always hear it. But if you think there is anybody hiding there you're mistaken. Come and look for yourself."
So saying he led the way into the house. I followed him. As he had said, there was nobody to be seen. The passage in question was about twenty feet long by four wide. There was a door at each end, and two on either side. It was well lighted by an oil lamp supported on an iron bracket screwed into the woodwork. The walls were composed of weather boards, while the floor was covered by a strip of oilcloth, which stretched from end to end. Spicer lifted the lamp from its socket, and, opening one of the doors on the left, led me into the sitting-room. We explored it carefully, but there was nothing there that could in any way account for the noise we had heard. Having satisfied ourselves on this point, we crossed to the room on the opposite side of the passage. This was my bedroom, and in it, as in the other apartment, our search was unrewarded. The room next to it was Spicer's office, and, save a safe, a desk, a small cupboard, a chair, and a row of account books, contained nothing to excite our suspicion. We passed into the passage again.
"This room," he said, pointing to the door opposite the office, "is our bedroom."
He tapped on the door.
"Minnie," he cried, "are you awake?"
"Yes," was the answer, "and very frightened. How long will you be before you come to bed?"
"I am coming now," he replied. Then, turning to me, he held out his hand. "Good-night," he said, "and pleasant dreams to you. It seems a shame to have brought you up here only to worry you with our troubles."
"I am very glad, indeed, that I came," I replied. "And if I can help you to some solution of your difficulty I shall be still more glad."
A quarter of an hour later I was in bed and asleep. If there was any further noise that night I did not hear it. I was tired after my long journey, and slept on until long after the sun had risen next morning.
When I did turn out I went into the verandah, where I discovered my hostess.
"Good-morning," she said, as she offered me her hand. "Jim has just gone across to the stockyard, but he will be back to breakfast in a moment."
Many people might have been discovered in Australia who would have thanked their stars that they were not the proprietors of Warradoona Station, but there would have been few who would not have envied Spicer his partner in life. She was a pretty brunette, with wonderful brown eyes, and a sympathetic, motherly way about her that made every one feel at home in her company, even if they had never seen her until five minutes before.
"I cannot tell you how very kind I think you are," she said, "to come to our assistance. You can imagine what a depressing effect this place has had upon Jim and myself. We have tried everything we can think of to solve the mystery, but without success. Now it remains to be seen whether you will fare any better than we have done."
"I am going to do my best," I answered, and as I said so, Jim came up the steps.
"Good-morning," he said as he reached the verandah. "I hope you slept well and that you were not disturbed by any more noises."
"If there were any to hear they didn't wake me," I answered. "I suppose you have not discovered anything that throws any sort of light upon that scream we heard last night?"
"Nothing at all," he replied, shaking his head. "But, to add to the discomfort we are already enduring, our cook has just informed me that he saw the White Horseman on the plain last night, and in consequence has given me notice that it is his intention to leave at mid-day. He says he would rather forfeit all his wages than remain another night."
"Oh, Jim, I am sorry to hear that," said his wife. "We shall have great difficulty in getting another. We do indeed seem doomed to misfortune."
Jim said nothing, but I saw his mouth harden as we went in to breakfast. His patience was well-nigh exhausted, and I suspected that if the mystery were not solved before many days were over he would follow the example of his predecessors, forfeit all the money he had put into it, and sever his connection with Warradoona.
During the morning I gave him a hand with some branding in the stockyard, and in the afternoon we went for a ride across the river, hoping to meet the mob of cattle his men were out collecting. We were unsuccessful, however, and it was dusk when we reached home again. By the time we had turned our horses loose, and placed our saddles on the racks, the full moon was rising above the Ranges behind the house. On reaching the verandah we heard voices in the sitting-room.
"That's Marmaduke Chudfield, I'll wager a sovereign," said Jim. "I'm glad he's come over, for though he's rather a namby-pamby sort of individual, he's not bad company."
A moment later we had entered the room, and I was being introduced to a tall, slim youth of perhaps eight-and-twenty years of age. His height could not have been much under six feet two, his face was devoid of beard or moustache, and boasted a somewhat vacuous expression, which a single eye-glass he wore continually only served to intensify. He spoke with a lisp and a drawl, and if one could judge by his own confessions, seemed to have no knowledge of any one thing in the whole system of the universe. In less than five minutes' conversation I had struck the bed rock of his intelligence, to use a mining phrase, and, while I had small doubt of his good nature, was not at all impressed by his sagacity. His station, Yarka, was, so Jim informed me later, a grand property, and carried a large number of cattle. This success, however, was in no sense due to Chudfield's exertions. To quote his own words, he "left everything to his overseer, a German, named Mulhauser, don't-cher-know, and didn't muddle things up by shoving his spoke in when it was no sort of jolly assistance, don't-cher-know. Cattle farming was not exactly his line, and if he had to pay a chap to work, well, he'd make him work, while he himself sat tight and had a jolly good time with continual trips to town and friends up to stay, and all that sort of thing, don't-cher-know."
After dinner we sat in the verandah and smoked our pipes until close upon ten o'clock, when Mrs. Spicer bade us "Good-night" and retired to her own room, as on the previous evening. After she had left us, there was a lull in the conversation. The night was perfectly still, as only nights in the Bush can be; the moon was well above the roof, and in consequence the plain below us was well-nigh as bright as day. The only sound to be heard was the ticking of the clock in the sitting-room behind us, and the faint sighing of the night-breeze through the scrub timber on the hills behind the house. And here I must make a digression. I don't think I have so far explained that in front of the house there was an unkempt garden about fifty yards long by thirty wide, enclosed by a rough Bush fence. In an idle sort of way I sat smoking and watching the rails at the bottom. The beauty of the night seemed to exercise a soothing influence upon the three of us. Jim, however, was just about to speak when Chudfield sprang from his chair, and, pointing towards the fence, at which only a moment before I had been looking, cried, "What's that?"
We followed the direction of his hand with our eyes, and as we did so leapt to our feet. Being but a sorry scene-painter I don't know exactly what words I should employ to make you see what we saw then. Scarcely fifty yards from us, seated upon a white horse, was a tall man, with a long grey beard, dressed altogether in white, even to his hat and boots. In his hand he carried a white stock-whip, which he balanced upon his hip. How he had managed to come so close without making a sound to warn us of his approach was more than I could understand; but this much was certain, come he did. The time, from our first seeing him to the moment of his wheeling his horse and riding silently away again, could not have been more than a minute, but all the same we were able to take perfect stock of him.
"Follow me," shouted Jim, as he rushed down the steps and ran towards the gate at the bottom of the garden. We followed close at his heels, but by the time we reached the fence the Phantom Stockman had entirely disappeared. We stared across the moonlit plain until our eyes ached, but not a sign of the apparition we had seen rewarded us.
"That is the third time he has been up here since I have had the place," said our host, "and each time he has vanished before I could get close enough to have a good look at him."
"What beats me was the fact that his horse made no sound," remarked the Honourable Marmaduke, "and yet the ground is hard enough hereabouts."
"Wait here till I get a lantern," cried Spicer. "Don't go outside the fence, and then you won't obliterate any tracks he may have made."
So saying he hastened back to the house, to return in about five minutes carrying in his hand a large lantern. With its assistance we carefully explored the ground on the other side of the fence, but to no purpose. There was not a sign of a horse's hoof to be seen.
"Well, this beats cock fighting," said the Honourable, as Jim blew out the light and we turned to walk back to the house. "This is Hamlet's father's ghost with a vengeance, don't-cher-know. I shall be glad whenever he takes it into his head to pay me a visit at Yarka. I'm afraid in that case my respected parent would see me in England sooner than would be quite convenient to him."
To this speech Jim replied never a word, nor did I think his remark worth an answer. Once in the verandah we separated, bidding each other good-night, Jim to go to his own room, the Honourable to take possession of the sofa in the sitting-room, upon which a bed had been made up for him, and I to my own dormitory. I saw Jim turn down the lamp in the passage and heard him blow it out as I shut my door. Then I undressed and jumped into bed.
How long I had been asleep I do not know, but I have the most vivid remembrance of suddenly finding myself sitting up in bed with the sweat pouring off my face, and the echo of surely the most awful shriek mortal man ever heard ringing in my ears. Before I could recover my self-possession it rang out again, followed this time by a strange moaning sound that must have continued while I could have counted twenty. Thinking this had gone about far enough I jumped out of bed, opened the door, and ran into the passage, only to be seized by a pair of arms. Lifting my right hand I took my assailant by the throat, and just as I did so, Jim's door opened and he came out, holding a candle in his hand. Then it was that I made the discovery that it was not the ghost's throat I was clutching between my finger and thumb, but that of the Honourable.
"Confound you two," said Jim angrily. "What on earth are you up to?"
"Up to?" gasped Chudfield. "Why, I heard the most villainous scream just now that I ever heard in my life, and came running out of my room to see what was the matter, only to be collared by the throat by this chap." Then turning to me he continued, in his usual drawling way, "I believe you've half broken my neck, don't-cher-know."
"Bother your neck," I cried shortly, for my dander was up and somebody had got to suffer for the fright I had received. "Jim, did you hear that scream?"
"Worse luck," answered poor Jim. "I wish I could say I hadn't. What the deuce does it mean?"
"It means," I replied sternly, "that if there's a ghost in this place I've got to see him before I'll be satisfied. And if it's a trick, well, I've got to find the chap that's playing it or know the reason why. When I do, I'll do what Chudfield here accuses me of half doing. I'll break his neck."
With that I walked first to the door at one end of the passage and examined it, then to the other; after that I tried the door leading into the office. All three were securely locked on our side.
"As far as I can remember, the sound seemed to come from about here," I said, pointing to the centre of the floor. "What is underneath these boards, Jim?"
"Only solid Mother Earth," he replied. "I had some of the planks up when I came into the place and put new ones down."
"Well, I'm going to sit up and await further developments," I said. "Do either of you feel inclined to share my vigil?"
"I will do so with pleasure," said Jim.
"And I too, if it's necessary," said the Honourable, with peculiar eagerness. "I'm not going to risk being wakened out of my sleep by another shriek like that."
Jim went into his bedroom and said something to his wife. After that we dressed and made ourselves as comfortable as possible in the sitting-room. But though we remained there till daylight we heard nothing further. As day dawned we returned to our beds to sleep soundly until we were roused by Mrs. Spicer at eight o'clock.
That afternoon, in spite of our jeers, the Honourable left us to return to his own abode. He had had enough and to spare of Warradoona, he said, and as he had not proved himself a very good plucked one, we did not exert ourselves very much to make him change his mind.
"I never thought he'd prove to be such a coward," said Jim, as we watched the youth disappear behind the river timber. "Still, he's a man extra about the place, and if those wretched cattle are coming in to-night we shall want all the hands we can raise to look after them on the plain."
"Do you think they will be here to-night?"
"It's more than likely. They ought to have been in this morning, and as they can't halt in the scrub they'll be driven by force of circumstances into camping on the plain. In that case it will be a pound to a sixpence that our friend the Stockman will give us some trouble. He generally puts in an appearance when there's a mob passing through."
"If he does we must tackle him, and decide once and for all the question of his—well, of his spirituality, shall I say? You can find a couple of revolvers, I suppose?"
"Half a dozen if need be, and what's more, cartridges to fit them."
We then walked back to the house together. It was tea time, and as soon as we had made ourselves tidy we sat down to it. Half way through the meal there was a heavy step in the verandah, and a moment later Ruford, Jim's one remaining stockman, entered the room.
"So you've turned up at last," said Jim, as he became aware of the other's identity. "Where are the cattle?"
"Camped on the plain," was the reply. "Bad luck to 'em. It was as much as I could do to get the two black boys to remain with them. Are you coming down?"
"We'll be down in half an hour," said Jim. "This gentleman and myself will camp with you to-night and give you a hand. Now be off and get your tea."
He disappeared without another word.
"But if you two are going to help with the cattle, what is to become of me?" asked Mrs. Spicer. "I cannot be left here alone."
"That's perfectly true," said Jim. "I never thought of it. Confound that miserable coward Chudfield. I'll tell you what I'll do, Minnie. I'll send Ruford up to take care of you. He won't be sorry for an evening's comfort, and it is most imperative that we should go down, you see, in case the Stockman should turn up to-night. If he does we hope to bring matters to a crisis."
Faithful to our promise, as soon as the meal was over, we saddled our horses and rode down towards the camp fire that we could see burning brightly on the plain below.
By the time we reached it the appearance of the night had changed, clouds had covered the sky, and a soft drizzle was falling. Ruford had taken the cattle down to the river, and when they had drunk their fill had tailed them slowly on to camp, where the two black boys were watching them. It was not a cheerful night, for the wind had risen, and was moaning among the she-oak trees like a million lost spirits. A more lonesome spot I never was in than that plain.
As we approached the fire Ruford said snappishly,—
"I suppose you think it's funny to hang round a camp, whispering and moaning, in order to frighten a man out of his wits."
"Who has been hanging about the camp whispering and moaning?" asked Spicer. "Why, you duffer, we've only just come down from the Homestead. You must be either drunk or dreaming."
"Dreaming be hanged!" he said. "I tell you that there's been some one moaning like old —— round this 'ere camp ever since dusk!"
"Moaning like your grandmother," said Spicer, descending from his saddle and tying his horse up to a tree near by. "I want you to go up to the house and camp there. Mrs. Spicer is all alone, and I think she may be frightened. We'll look after the cattle."
When he had gone we stretched ourselves beside the fire on the blankets we found there and fell to yarning.
I can see the whole scene now. Owing to the heavy clouds mentioned above, it was as dark as the inside of your hat, with not a gleam of light in the whole length and breadth of the sky. Ruford had stirred up the fire before he left us, and the flames were roaring upwards, when suddenly there came a long, peculiar moan from the scrub behind us that brought us up into a sitting posture like one man. We looked in the direction whence it seemed to come, and saw there, standing in the full light of the fire, a tall, thin man, of about fifty years of age. He had white hair and a long grey beard. He was dressed, even to his riding boots, in some white material, and he carried a stock-whip in his hand. His face was as pale as death and infinitely sad, and he seemed to be looking from one to the other of us as if he did not know which to address.
We were both struck dumb with astonishment, until Spicer, raising himself on his elbow, shouted,—
"Hullo, my man! Where do you hail from?"
Then the figure faded away into the darkness as quietly as it had come, and you can just imagine how we stared.
"Well, this beats all the other manifestations into a cocked hat," cried Spicer, and seizing a burning stick and bidding me follow with another, he dashed into the scrub in the direction we supposed the stranger to have taken.
For upwards of twenty minutes we searched high and low, in every possible hiding-place within fifty yards of the camp, but without success. Not a single trace of our mysterious visitor could we discover. Then we returned to the fire and lay down again.
Spicer's watch was from nine to eleven, and as it was almost eight then, he resolved to try and snatch an hour's sleep before it would be necessary for him to get into the saddle once more. He soon gave up the attempt, however.
Though we did not see any more of the stranger just then, I can assure you we were far from being easy in our minds. The cattle had suddenly become very restless, and from their lowing and snorting we could tell that they were uneasy. While we listened, the same peculiar moaning noise came from the scrub away to our left. It sounded for all the world like the crying of a woman in dreadful trouble, but though we peered repeatedly into the night, and twice crept away from the fire in that direction, we could discover nothing to account for it.
At nine o'clock Spicer went on watch, and the black boys came into camp reporting the cattle as very restless.
For some time after he had gone I lay on my blankets looking up at the sky. Clouds still covered the heavens, and it looked as if a wet night were pending. Sometime about ten o'clock Spicer called to me to join him, as something was radically wrong with the mob; so saddling my horse I rode out.
As I went the clouds parted, and for a moment the moon shone brilliantly forth. It was a curious sight that I then beheld. The cattle—there were about five hundred of them—were all up, moving to and fro and bellowing continuously. What made us the more uneasy was the fact that, now and again, the old bull in command would separate himself from the mob and sniff the wind, after which he would let out a bellow that fairly shook the earth. Whenever he sees the leader do that, a cattleman knows that it behoves him to stand by and keep his eyes open for trouble.
Coming up with Spicer, I asked him what he thought was the matter, but for some moments he did not answer.
Then he said very mysteriously,—
"Did you meet him as you came out?"
"Meet whom?" I asked.
"Why, our friend, the Phantom Stockman?"
"The devil! And has he turned up again?"
After looking cautiously round, Jim edged his horse up alongside mine and said quietly,—
"He's been hovering round these cattle for the past half-hour. They can see him, and that's what's making them so confoundedly restless. You take my word for it, we shall have serious trouble directly!"
"Confound it all," I said. "That will mean double watches all night, and in this drizzle too."
"It can't be helped. But you had better tell the boys to be ready in case they are wanted. Look! Look! Here he comes again!"
I looked in the direction he indicated, and, true enough, out of the thick mist which now hid the trees along the river bank, and into the half moonlight where we stood, rode the phantom whom we had seen two hours before by our camp fire. But there was a difference now; this time he was mounted on his white horse, and seemed to be like us on watch. At first I fancied my brain was creating a phantom for me out of the whirling mist; but the snorting and terror of the cattle, as they became aware of his presence, soon convinced me of his reality.
Little by little the fellow edged round the scrub, and then disappeared into the fog again, to reappear a minute or two later on our left. Then he began to come slowly towards us. I can tell you the situation was uncanny enough to creep the flesh of a mummy. He was sitting loosely in his saddle, with his stock-whip balanced on his hip; indeed, to show how details impress themselves on one's mind, I can remember that he had one of his sleeves rolled up and that he carried his reins slung over his left arm.
When he was within eight or ten paces of where we stood, my horse, which had been watching him as if turned to stone, suddenly gave a snort, and wheeling sharp round bolted across the plain as if the devil were behind him. Before I had gone fifty yards I heard Spicer come thundering after me, and we must have had a good two miles gallop before we could pull the terrified beasts up. Then we heard the cattle rushing a mile or so on our right.
"I knew they'd go," wailed Spicer; "they're well-nigh mad with fright. Now, what the deuce is to be done?"
"Try and head them, I suppose."
"Come on, then, for all you're worth. It's neck or nothing with us now!"
We set off down the angle of the plain as fast as our horses could lay their legs to the ground. It was a near thing, for, hard as we went, we were only just in time to prevent the leaders from plunging into the river. If you know anything of overlanding, you'll understand the work we had. As it was, I don't believe we could have managed it at all if it had not been for the extraneous—or, as I might perhaps say, spiritual—aid we received.
While Spicer took the river side, I worked inland, along the bottom of the cliff, and as the two black boys had bolted for the Homestead long before the cattle broke, we had no one between us to bring up the tail. Suddenly, Heaven alone knows how, the Phantom Stockman came to our assistance; and a more perfect drover could scarcely have been found. He wheeled his cattle and brought up his stragglers, boxed 'em, and headed 'em off, like the oldest hand. But however clever a bushman he may have been, it was plainly his own personality that effected the greatest good; for directly the mob saw him, they turned tail and stampeded back on to the plain like beasts possessed.
At last, however, we got them rounded up together, and then Spicer rode over to where I stood and said,—
"Give an eye to 'em, will you, while I slip back to the camp? I want to get something."
I had not time to protest, for next minute he was gone, and I was left alone with that awful stranger whom I could still see dodging about in the mist. When he got back, Jim reined up alongside me and said,—
"This is getting a little too monotonous to my thinking."
"What are you going to do?" I gasped, my teeth chattering in my head like a pair of castanets.
"Try the effect of this on him," he answered, and as he spoke he pulled a revolver from his pocket. "I don't care if it sends every beast across the river."
At that moment, on his constant round, the phantom came into view again. On either side of him the cattle were sniffing and snorting at him, plainly showing that they were still wild with terror. This behaviour puzzled us completely, for we both knew that a mob would never treat an ordinary flesh-and-blood stockman in that way. When he got within twenty paces of us Spicer cried,—
"Bail up, matey—or, by jingo, I'll put daylight into you!"
Obedient to the order the figure instantly pulled up.
The moon was bright enough now for us to see his face. And, though, as I've said before, I'm not a coward as a general rule, I can tell you that it made me feel fairly sick, so white and creepy-looking was it. Then he held up his hand as if in protest and started towards us.
This didn't suit Spicer, however, for he yelled,—
"Stand off! or by the living God I swear I'll fire. Stand off!"
But the figure continued to come towards us. Then Crack! Crack! Crack! went the revolver, and next moment there was a frightful scream and the sound of galloping hoofs. I saw no more, for, as Jim fired, my horse reared and fell back, crushing me beneath him.
I suppose I must have been stunned by the fall, for when I recovered my senses Spicer was leaning over me.
"Is he gone?" I asked as soon as I could speak.
"Yes! Gone like mad across the plain and the cattle with him. I must either have missed him, or the bullet must have passed clean through him."
As there was now no further reason why we should remain where we were, we returned to the Homestead and told our tale. Then when it was light enough, we had our breakfast and mounted our horses and went out into the scrub to look for the cattle we had lost. By the time dusk fell we had collected three hundred and fifty out of the five hundred head Ruford had brought on to the plain. The poor beasts were quite knocked up; and as it was useless thinking of pushing them on in that condition, we were consequently compelled to camp them for one more night on that awful plain. But to our delight we saw no more of the Phantom Stockman.
Next morning while we were at breakfast, Billy, the black boy, who had been out after the horses, came dashing up to the Homestead, almost beside himself with excitement.
"Me been find him," he cried. "Me been find him, all same fellow what been make debbil-debbil longa here."
"What do you mean?" asked Spicer, putting down his cup of tea. "Where have you found the man?"
"Me been find him longa billabong. My word he most like dead, mine think it."
Spicer made a sign to me, and without another word we jumped up and ran in the direction of the stockyard. Mounting our horses we followed our guide through the scrub for a distance of perhaps a mile and a half until we came to a small billabong or backwater of the main river.
Away at the further end we could see a curious white heap, and towards it we galloped, making our horses put their best feet foremost, you may be sure.
On reaching it, we found a man lying huddled up upon the ground beneath a low-growing tree. He was dressed in a complete suit of white flannel, his boots were painted the same colour, and even his hat was fixed up to match, white. Still looped over his ears was a long grey beard and moustache of false hair.
Spicer dismounted and knelt beside him. After feeling his heart he plucked the beard away and almost shouted his astonishment aloud.
"Good heavens!" he cried; "do you recognise this man?"
I stooped and looked. I don't know whether you will believe it, but the Phantom Stockman, the person who had performed such prodigies two nights before, was none other than our friend Chudfield, the young English owner of Yarka Station, across the river, the man who had appeared to be so frightened by the ghost, and who had made it his boast that he knew nothing at all about Bush-work. For some moments we stood and stared at him in stupefied amazement. I was the first to speak.
"Is he dead, do you think?" I asked.
"Quite," said Spicer. "Look at this mark under his chin. Galloping through the scrub in the dark the other night to get away from us, he must have been caught by that bough up there and have been dashed from his saddle. Death must have been almost instantaneous."
Round his waist was a long thin cord which ran away some twenty yards or so into the bush. We followed it up and discovered a large piece of raw hide tied to the end of it.
Spicer examined the latter carefully.
"The beast that owned this skin was only killed two days ago," he said. "Now I know why our cattle were so restless. They smelt the blood, and, as you are aware, that invariably terrifies them. Cunning beggar! he pretended to know nothing, and yet he knew enough for this."
"Yes," I said; "but what about the other night when the phantom appeared at the garden fence, and this man was sitting in the verandah with us?"
"Why, he probably wanted to disarm suspicion, and so sent his overseer, who must be in the secret, to play the part."
"But what was his object in frightening you?"
"Can't you guess? Well, just let me find out where our friend's stockyard is situated in the Ranges up yonder, and I think I'll be able to tell you. I remember now that when I came here his cattle were all over Warradoona, and that he used the place just as if it were his own, to say nothing of having his choice of all the unbranded and other cattle that former tenants had left upon it."
Leaving the body where we had found it, to be picked up on our homeward journey, we crossed the river and plunged into the scrub beyond.
An hour later we discovered, cunningly hidden in a lonely gulley, a big stockyard in which our lost cattle were still penned up. There was no one in sight and nothing to prove how the animals had got there, but a clearer case of duffing could scarcely have been found. Moreover, there were branding irons in the shed adjoining, and they were those of Yarka Station.
"I think we know quite enough now," said Spicer solemnly, as we mounted our horses to return.
"Enough to lay the Ghost of the Stockman of Warradoona at any rate," I replied.
Three hours later we were at home once more, and Chudfield's body was lying in a hut, waiting for the police from Yarrapanya who would hold the inquest. A black boy had meanwhile been sent across to Yarka Station to inform the manager of the catastrophe.
Our lunch that day was a mixture of happiness and sadness. Happiness, because the mystery of the Phantom Stockman had been cleared up for good and all; and sadness, because of the pain that was inseparable from the discovery of a friend's duplicity.
When the meal was at an end we passed into the verandah. After a little conversation there, Spicer disappeared, to return in a few moments with a pick-axe and a basket of tools.
"What are you going to do?" I inquired, as he set them down in the passage and took off his coat.
"I want, if possible, to discover how those screams were worked," he replied. "It looks like being a long job; so if you will give me your assistance in ripping up these boards, I shall be very grateful."
"Of course, I'll help," I said, and thereupon we set to work.
But though we laboured for the best part of the afternoon, the result was disappointing in the extreme. Nothing but dry earth and wood-shavings confronted us.
"That being so, we'll take down the posts that support the walls on either side," said Jim, and as he spoke he attacked that upon which the lamp was fixed. "If we can't find anything there we'll continue to pull the house to pieces until we do."
But we were spared that trouble. On loosening the post in question we made an important discovery. It was hollow from end to end, and in the cavity reposed a lead pipe, about an inch in diameter. We consulted together for a moment, and then took the pick-axe into my bedroom and ripped up a plank in the floor. By this means we were able to see that the pipe crossed the room and passed under the further wall. Outside we picked it up once more and traced it past the well, the kitchen, and the stockyard, into the scrub, where it entered an enormous blasted gum tree standing fifty yards or so from the house.
"I see the whole thing as clear as daylight," cried Spicer joyfully, as he mounted the tree and prepared to lower himself into the hollow. "I believe we've solved the mystery of the shrieks at night, and now the whole thing is as simple as A B C. Go back to the house and listen."
I did as he wished, and when I had been in the passage about a minute, was rewarded by hearing a scream re-echo through the house, followed by a muffled cry, "Oh, save me! save me!"
As the sound died away, Mrs. Spicer came running into the house from the kitchen with a scared face. A moment later we were joined by her husband.
"Did you hear that scream, Jim?" she inquired anxiously. "I thought you said we should not be worried by it again?"
He put his arm round her waist and drew her towards him.
"Nor shall we, little woman," he said. "That scream was to let us know that the phantom is laid at last, and that after to-day this place is going to be as sweet and homely as any a man could wish to live in. That poor beggar in the hut there tried to keep it empty as long as he could for his own purposes, but I beat him in the end. Now I've got it for a quarter its value, and whatever else he may have done we must not forget that we owe that, at least, to our old enemy the Phantom Stockman of Warradoona."
The Treasure of Sacramento Nick
Away on the northernmost coast of Australia lies a little world all by itself and unlike anything else to be found in the whole immemorial East. Its chief centre is in Torres Straits, where the majority of the inhabitants employ themselves in pearl-fishing, gathering bêche-de-mer and tortoise-shell, and generally in accumulating those gigantic fortunes of which one hears so much and sees so little.
Walking the streets of Thursday Island, the smallest of the group, yet the centre of commerce and the seat of such government as the Colony of Queensland can afford it, you will be struck with the number of nationalities represented. Dwelling together, if not in unity, certainly in unison, are Caucasians and Mongolians, Ethiopians and Malayans, John Chinaman living cheek by jowl with the barbarian Englishman, Cingalee with Portuguese, Frenchman with Kanaka—all prejudices alike forgotten in the one absorbing struggle for the unchanging British sovereign. On the verandahs of the hotels sit continually men who talk with the familiarity of old friends about the uttermost parts of the earth, and whose lives are mainly spent in places to which the average man never goes nor dreams of going. If you are a good listener they will tell you many things worth knowing; and towards midnight you will feel stealing over you a hazy conviction that the nineteenth century is as yet unborn, and that you are listening to the personal narrative of Sinbad the Sailor in an unexpurgated form.
One afternoon as I was sitting in my verandah watching the China mail-boat steam to her anchorage, and wondering if I had energy enough to light a third cheroot, I felt my arm touched. Turning, I discovered a little Solomon boy, about ten years old, attired in an ancient pair of hunting breeches, and grinning from ear to ear. Having succeeded in attracting my attention, he handed me a letter. It was from my friend, McBain, the manager of a pearling station on an adjacent island, and set forth the welcome fact that he would be pleased to see me on a matter of some importance, if I could spare the time to dine with him that evening. There was nothing I could spare more easily or more willingly.
Once comfortably seated in the verandah, McBain explained his reason for sending to me. "You'll think me mad, but I've got a curiosity here that I want to examine before any one else gets hold of him."
"Black or white?" I asked, with but little interest, for we lived in a land of human curiosities.
"White."
"Nationality?"
"Cosmopolitan, I should fancy."
"Profession?"
"Adventurer, with a marvellous big A."
"And hailing from——?"
"Well, he doesn't seem to know himself. One of my luggers took him out of an open boat about two degrees west of the Ladrones."
"But he surely knows how he got into the boat? Men don't go pleasure trips across oceans without knowing whence they started. Hasn't he anything to say for himself?"
"That's just what I want you to hear. Either the man's a superhuman liar, or else he's got a secret of the biggest thing on earth. We'll have him up to-night, and you shall judge for yourself."
When dinner was over we took ourselves and our cigars into the cool verandah, and for half an hour or so sat smoking and talking of many things. Then a footstep crunched upon the path, and a tall, thin man stood before us.
McBain rose and wished him "Good-evening," as he did so pushing a chair into such a position that I could see his face. "I beg your pardon, but I don't think you told me your name last night."
"Sir, my name is Nicodemus B. Patten, of Sacramento City, State of California, U.S.A.—most times called Sacramento Nick."
"Well, Mr. Patten, let me introduce you to a friend who is anxious to hear the curious story you told me last night. Will you smoke?"
Gravely bowing to me, he selected a cheroot, lit it, and blew the smoke luxuriously through his nose. The lamp light fell full and fair upon his face, and instinctively I began to study it. It was a remarkable countenance, and, in spite of its irregularity of feature, contained a dignity of expression which rather disconcerted me. There were evident traces of bodily and mental suffering in the near past, but it was neither the one nor the other which had stamped the lines that so much puzzled me. After satisfying myself on certain other points, I begged him to begin.
He did so without hesitation or previous thought.
"Gentlemen, before I commence my story, let me tell you that when first the things I am going to tell you of came about, there were three of us: Esdras W. Dyson, of Milwaukee, Wisconsin, U.S.A.; James Dance, of London, England; and Nicodemus B. Patten, of Sacramento City, now before you. I reckon most folks would have called us adventurers, for we'd ferreted into nearly every corner of the globe. Snakes alive! but I've seen things in my time that would fairly stagger even you, and I guess my story of to-night ain't the least curious of 'em.
"Perhaps you don't remember the junk that fell foul of the Bedford Castle nigh upon three years ago, when she was four days out from Singapore?"
I remembered the circumstance perfectly. It was an act of flagrant piracy which had made some noise at the time; and I had also a faint recollection of having been told that white men were suspected of being mixed up in it. On being asked if he knew anything of the matter, he said: "Well, I don't say we did, mind you; but I had a suspicion we were in China waters at the time. But bless you, in those days there were few places and few things that we hadn't a finger in. Understand, I am telling you this because I don't want to sail under false colours, and also because such work is all over now; the firm's smashed up, and we'll never go on the Long Trail again.
"Two years ago, for certain reasons not necessary to mention, we wanted to lay by for a while, so bringing up at Batavia fixed right on to the Nederlander. Java's a one-horse place for business purposes, but if you know the ropes—well, there's not a better place in the world to hide in.
"Now, gentlemen both, you may take it from me that there never was such a chap for browsing about among niggers, finding out what was doing, and if there was anything to be made, as Esdras W. Dyson, of Milwaukee, U.S.A.
"In the first place, he could patter any lingo from Chinese to Malay with a tongue that'd talk round the devil himself; and when he suspicioned a nigger had anything worth knowing—well, he'd just freeze to that charcoal sketch till he fairly got it out of him. Rigged out in native dress and properly coloured, he could pass in anywhere. It was he who found out the thing that ruined us, brought me here, and left Jim and himself feeding the fishes a thousand fathoms deep. Directly we arrived in Batavia he began hanging round the Native Quarter, making himself mighty agreeable for some particular information he wanted. He was away for two or three days; then one night as Dance and me were smoking on the piazza he came striding up the path in the devil's own hurry. 'Boys!' says he in a whisper, 'I'm on it, up to the hilt, the biggest and the all-firedest stroke of good fortune we've hit yet. I'm going fantee to-night, so keep your weather eyes lifted, and when I say come, come right away!' With that he went to his room, and we could hear him rummaging about in his trunks.
"A bit later a native fruit-hawker came round the corner, bowing and scraping towards us. We told him to clear out, but he commenced a pitiful yarn, all the time pushing his baskets closer to us. 'Fine Duriens and the sweetest of Mangosteens, if the Presence will only buy!' But the big night-watchman had caught sight of him, and came trundling down the piazza. You can reckon our astonishment, when the hawker said: 'How is it, boys? Do you think they'll savee? Keep your kits packed and be prepared to trek directly you get the word from me.' Here the watchman came up. 'On the word of a poor man, the Duriens are freshly plucked and the Mangosteens hung upon the trees this morning.' We refused to buy, and he went away crying his fruit towards the Native Quarter.
