Chapter Twenty Five.
Barker’s Treachery.
The presence of Barker in the ship, and the working by Mildmay of the “traverse” which that presence seemed to render desirable, somewhat prolonged the passage of the Flying Fish to von Schalckenberg’s pearl-island. A full week thus elapsed between the date upon which they had taken the man on board, and that upon which they arrived at their destination—during which nothing was sighted.
But Barker made that week a lively time indeed for the rest of the party; for what between his quaint manners and mode of expression, and the interminable string of yarns that he spun, he kept them continuously at the high-water level of hilarity. He possessed in a very high degree the faculty of telling a story humorously; he even contrived to infuse a certain measure of humour into the relation of his most recent misfortunes; and, finding himself in touch with a thoroughly appreciative audience, he appeared to throw himself heart and soul into the task of entertaining them, by way of repayment of their hospitality. And when, presently, they began to grow somewhat accustomed to his singularities of manner and speech, and their sensitiveness to it had begun to wear off, they told themselves and each other that, queer fish as he was, he was “not half a bad sort.”
The only quality, indeed, in him that still continued to jar upon them was his phenomenal inquisitiveness. He appeared not to know the meaning of rudeness or impertinence; he sought to pry into everything, and seemed genuinely surprised and puzzled when Sir Reginald somewhat curtly yet courteously excused himself from complying with his request to be shown all over the ship, and have everything explained to him. Yet it was almost impossible to feel angry with him, because he appeared to be so overwhelmingly grateful for his deliverance from imprisonment upon that mere speck of an out-of-the-way, inhospitable islet that he was always talking about it, always striving to give expression to his gratitude in some way or other. To such an extent was this the case, indeed, that it quickly became embarrassing, almost to the extent of annoyance, to the rest of the party. There was nothing they did that he did not want to assist in; and they found the utmost difficulty in making him understand that they would really prefer that he did not take his turn with the others at the night-watches in the pilot-house.
They quickly realised that it would be quite impossible for them to preserve from him the secret of the nature of their operations at the pearl-island; they therefore made a virtue of necessity, and frankly told him all about the matter, merely retaining the position of the island from him. As might be expected, he exhibited the utmost interest in their plans; promptly demanded to be made useful in the carrying out of their operations, and—also as might be expected—betrayed no diffidence about making the suggestion that he should be permitted to share in such good fortune as might attend their labours.
The atoll was sighted a little after ten o’clock in the morning, and by eleven o’clock the ship had safely entered the lagoon, and come to anchor as nearly as possible in its centre. The islet—which, as von Schalckenberg’s book had stated, was little more than a mere rock—was of coral formation, and appeared to be merely a volcanic or seismic upheaval of one small portion of the oval ring of coral that formed the lagoon. Looked at broadside-on, so to speak, it bore some resemblance in appearance to a whale asleep on the water. Sand had washed up and become lodged among the inequalities of the rock-surface, and the deposits of birds had converted this into soil that, poor as it looked, sufficed to nourish a small clump of coconut palms that reared themselves from the highest point of the islet, which rose some thirty feet above the surface of the ocean. The shoal upon which the oyster-bed was reputed to exist lay two miles to the westward of the islet, and had been sighted from the deck of the Flying Fish shortly before her arrival in the lagoon, its position being indicated by a very distinct discoloration of the water.
The ship having been moored, the two boats were lowered into the water, and the party made an excursion to the islet, to view the place, and fill in the interval before luncheon. The islet was so small, however, and so absolutely devoid of interest, that half an hour sufficed the party to become perfectly acquainted with it; but they were repaid for their trouble by the discovery of a long, shallow, saucer-like depression, with a smooth bottom, that offered perfectly ideal facilities for the deposit of the oysters while undergoing the process of decomposition, which is the preliminary to the finding of such pearls as they may contain. There was no doubt that this would render the island and its immediate vicinity almost intolerably offensive to the olfactory nerves; but as the lagoon was to windward of the islet, and the ship was moored a mile and a half away from it, it was believed that her occupants would suffer no inconvenience from that source.
Luncheon over, two small nets, each with a sufficient length of rope to reach from the surface to the sea-bottom on the shoal, together with a couple of shovels and two rope ladders, were got out and put into the boats, while Mildmay and the professor arrayed themselves in their diving-suits and armour. Thus equipped, the two boats, with the six men of the party, set out for the shoal, Sir Reginald, the professor, and Barker going in one boat, while Mildmay, Lethbridge, and Sziszkinski went in the other. The passage through the reef lay to windward; the boats therefore were obliged to run some two miles to the eastward, to get outside and clear of the reef, and then go either north or south for about a distance of some two and a half miles to get round to the back of the reef and the island ere they could shape a course for the shoal. Luckily, although there was a considerable amount of swell, which burst upon the reef with a continuous sound of thunder, and threw up a wall of diamond spray some twenty feet high into the clear, sun-lit air, the trade-wind was blowing but a moderate breeze, and there was consequently not much sea. The boats therefore made excellent time, and arrived upon the shoal some three-quarters of an hour after leaving the ship. And here, again, they were favoured, from the fact that the shoal lay almost dead to leeward of the atoll, and but two miles distant from it; they were therefore in somewhat sheltered water, both as regards the swell and the sea, neither of which broke on the shoal.
The boats having anchored within a few yards of each other, well in toward the centre of the shoal, a rope ladder was dropped over the side of each, the nets were lowered to the bottom, each of them containing one of the shovels; and then Mildmay and the professor descended to the bottom, where they met. The water was beautifully clear, and the light good. They were therefore able to see without difficulty; and a single glance sufficed to show them that the account of the shoal in von Schalckenberg’s book was in no sense an exaggerated one. They stood upon a bed of pearl-oysters, so thick that the sand could not be seen. Moreover, the oysters were of unusual size; not, of course, that that signified anything, because it is not always the largest oyster that yields the finest pearls.
The professor glanced about him, taking in as comprehensive a view of his surroundings as the dense medium in which he was immersed would permit, took up an oyster or two at haphazard, looked at them, and then said to Mildmay—
“It appears to me to be quite useless to attempt anything in the way of making a selection; the only thing that we can do is to take the oysters as they come, shovel them into the net until it is full, and then signal to those in the boats to draw them up. And, while doing this, we must keep a wary eye for sharks—not that the creatures could hurt us, attired, as we are, in this armour, but there is this danger, that we might be seized and carried so far away before we could free ourselves that it might be impossible to find our way back to the boats. If, therefore, any of them should appear upon the scene, we must use our daggers, and that right quickly.”
The surrounding water was, however, quite clear of everything of a menacing character at that moment. The two men therefore got to work, spreading the mouths of their nets wide open, and simply shovelling the oysters into them until they were full, when they signalled to those in the boats to haul them up. This process they continued for something over an hour, until the boats were about half-full, and the time had arrived for them to return to the island.
The return journey was uneventful, except in so far as it showed them that the boats were loaded quite as deeply as was desirable for the safe negotiation of that part of the passage which lay to windward of the atoll; and when once they were safely inside the lagoon, they proceeded straight to the spot already chosen by them for the purpose, and discharged their cargoes into the shallow basin of rock. This afternoon’s haul amounted to some thousands of oysters, but they now saw that the basin was sufficiently capacious to accommodate at least a fortnight’s catch, reckoning upon the basis of their afternoon’s work.
On the following day the same party again went out, making two trips to the shoal, one in the morning, and one in the afternoon, thus continuing for a fortnight, by which time their saucer-like depression in the rock was full, while about half of the entire catch was in a sufficiently advanced stage of decomposition to admit of being examined and the pearls abstracted therefrom. This, as will be supposed, was a most disgusting and intensely disagreeable task, but the returns were so unexpectedly rich that the revolting character of the work was quickly lost sight of in the interest with which discovery after discovery was made of pearls that, for size, shape, and purity of colour, promised to prove priceless. Their first day’s work among the putrid fish resulted in their taking on board at night an ordinary ship’s bucket nearly half-full of pearls, a considerable proportion of which might be ranked as specially valuable. The proportion of seed pearls was singularly small, and, toward the close of the second day’s work, was considered of so little value, comparatively, as to be not worth the time and trouble of collecting. To attempt to put anything more than the merest approximate estimate of value upon their catch was of course quite out of the question; but when the result of their third day’s labour was added to that of their first and second, von Schalckenberg, who claimed to be something of an authority in such matters, declared that the whole must be worth not far short of one hundred thousand pounds, if indeed it did not exceed that value.
The enthusiasm with which the men had been working at their highly unpleasant task of extracting the pearls from their loathsome envelopment had so far cooled by the end of the third day that it had been unanimously resolved to take a change of occupation on the following day by again going out to the shoal and securing a further supply of oysters. The suggestion emanated from von Schalckenberg in the first instance; he made it upon the plea that such a change was very highly desirable in the interests of their health; and the proposal had been eagerly welcomed by all hands, most of whom had already begun to complain of nausea, and to exhibit a more or less marked distaste for food.
That there really was distinct need for such a precaution seemed to be borne out next morning by the fact that when the party mustered for breakfast Barker was found to be an absentee, and upon George being dispatched to his cabin to awaken him, upon the assumption that he had overslept himself, the man presently returned with a message to the effect that the absentee was suffering from a splitting headache, that he required no breakfast, and that “he guessed” he would spend the morning in bed, if it was all the same to the others. Whereupon von Schalckenberg paid him a professional visit, looked at his tongue, asked him a few questions, and sent him a draught to take. Sir Reginald—who, now that his wife and child were with him, had evinced a rather marked tendency toward over-anxiety in all matters relating to sickness—was very particular in his inquiries as to the invalid’s condition, and was with difficulty reassured by the professor’s assertion that there was certainly nothing worse the matter with him than, possibly, a slight attack of biliousness. The remaining five men, therefore, went away in the boats after breakfast, Sir Reginald taking the precaution to carry his telephone along with him, in order that Lady Olivia might have the means of communicating with him in the event of further and more serious symptoms manifesting themselves in the case of the sick man.
Arrived at the shoal, the divers—Mildmay and von Schalckenberg as before—went down and got to work; but Barker’s absence was felt when it came to hauling up the full nets, the weight of which proved to be rather too much for one man to handle, and it therefore became necessary to haul up the nets one at a time, discharge both into the same boat, and, when she was as full as was thought desirable, leave her, shifting over to the other boat and loading her in the same way. The consequence of this was that they were late in completing their cargoes, and it was already considerably past the luncheon-hour when at length they lifted their anchors and started back toward the lagoon. Nothing had been heard in the mean time from Lady Olivia, from which circumstance it was deduced that the patient was at all events no worse.
Scarcely, however, had the boats got under way when the bell of the telephone in Sir Reginald’s pocket began to ring, and he whipped the instrument out with the remark—
“Hillo! what does this mean? Nothing very serious, I hope.”
He pressed the thumb of one hand upon the small red knob of the instrument, and with the other hand inserted the tube of it into his ear.
Almost instantly he heard his wife’s voice calling to him—
“Reginald! Reginald! are you there, and can you hear me?”
“Yes, dear, I am here; and can hear you quite distinctly,” answered Sir Reginald. “What is the matter? Nothing wrong with Barker, I hope. Is he any worse?”
“Worse!” echoed Lady Olivia’s voice, in accents of intense indignation. “There is nothing the matter with him—the wretch—except that he has stolen the Flying Fish, and is making off with her—and us.”
“What!” ejaculated Sir Reginald, in a tone of such profound consternation that those in the other boat heard him, and von Schalckenberg, sheering in close alongside, demanded to know what was wrong. Sir Reginald, still listening at his telephone, held up his hand for silence. Lady Olivia was still speaking.
“Yes, it is quite true,” she continued. “You had scarcely been gone an hour, this morning, when he suddenly presented himself in the music-room, where Feodorovna and I were sitting, and called Mlle. Sziszkinski out of the room. Suspecting nothing, the poor girl at once went, and a few minutes later he returned, alone, and, presenting a revolver at my head, ordered me to follow him, warning me at the same time that if I raised the slightest outcry of any kind, he would shoot me dead.”
“The scoundrel! The consummate blackguard!” ejaculated Sir Reginald through his set teeth. “Yes, dear; go on. I am listening,” he added.
“Of course I went; for there was nothing else to do,” continued Lady Olivia. “And he looked so fierce, so determined, in such deadly earnest, that I felt sure he would carry out his threat if I disobeyed him. He led me up to the pilot-house; and there I found poor little Ida—whom I had believed to be out on deck, playing or reading—bound hand and foot, with a gag in her mouth.”
Sir Reginald drew in his breath sharply, but said nothing.
“The moment that I entered the pilot-house he closed the door, and placing his back against it, pointed to Ida, saying, ‘You see, ma’am, there is your child; and if you will look closely at her you will see that I have lashed her up so tightly that, if she could speak, she would tell you that she is mighty uncomfortable!’ And indeed, I could see that the brute was only speaking the truth—much less than the truth, in fact, for it was clear that the poor darling was suffering torment. Oh, Reggie, I tried to get to her to release her, but that brute raised his pistol and pointed it at her, saying, ‘If you offer to touch her, I’ll blow her brains out! If you want to gain her release, tell me what you know about the working of this ship, and as soon as we are outside the reef you may release the child.’
“What could I do, Reggie? I simply could not stand there and see my darling suffering, so I asked him what he wanted to know. He said that the first thing he wished to know was how to raise the anchor, and I showed him. Then he asked how the engines were worked, and I showed him that, taking care, however, only to show him how they worked at their lowest speed. He kept me there with him until the ship had passed through the passage in the reef, and then he told me that I might take my ‘brat’ and go. I needed no second bidding, you may be sure, but snatched up the poor little thing and took her straight down into her own cabin, where—excepting for the few moments necessary to release Feodorovna from confinement in her cabin—nurse and I have been busy ever since, chafing her poor limbs and soothing her as well as we could. She suffered agonies at first, but is better now, and has gone to sleep.”
“Good!” responded Sir Reginald. “I am now going to consult with the rest as to what is best to be done. But do not yet put your telephone away; I may wish to speak with you again.”
Then Sir Reginald, in as few words as possible, repeated Lady Olivia’s story to the others, ending by asking Mildmay, as an experienced seaman, what he would advise.
“The first thing to be done is to heave these oysters overboard as quickly as we can get rid of them. The next, of course, is to go full speed ahead in chase of the ship. It will be a desperately long chase, however, for these boats can only run twelve knots, while the ship, even at her slowest, will be going quite ten.”
“Precisely,” assented the baronet. “Then, there is the question of how we are going to find the ship. For of course she is far out of sight of the atoll by this time.”
“True,” assented Mildmay; “I am thinking about that, too. Ask Lady Olivia what she can tell us about the course, or courses, that the fellow has been steering.”
“Better take the telephone yourself, old chap, and ask your questions first-hand,” said Sir Reginald, handing over the instrument to the skipper.
Mildmay took it, and, inserting the small tube in his ear, spoke into the mouthpiece.
“Are you still there, Lady Olivia?”
“Yes,” came the instant reply. “What now, Captain?”
“I want you to tell me what you can about the course that this fellow Barker is steering. Did you notice it?”
“Yes,” answered Lady Olivia; “fortunately I thought of that. He was steering due east when he released me; and so soon as I got down into Ida’s cabin I took the little aneroid with the compass at its back that hangs there and set it on the table, so that I could watch it. It was just eleven o’clock, by the clock in the pilot-house, when we passed out through the reef; and at twelve o’clock he altered his course to north-east-by-east, which is the course that he is steering at present.”
“Thanks, very much. That will do excellently. Please keep an eye on that compass, and let us know if he makes any further alterations,” said Mildmay; and when he had received Lady Olivia’s answer, he handed back the telephone to Sir Reginald and, drawing a pencil from one pocket, and his watch from the other, made a brief note on one of his cuffs.
“Has either of you fellows a decent-sized bit of paper about you?” he asked.
Lethbridge drew his pocket-book from his pocket. “Will a leaf—or the whole book—be of any use to you?” he asked.
“A couple of leaves will do. Thanks,” he replied, as Lethbridge tore out two and handed them to him. With one of these he constructed a kind of scale; then, with its aid, he drew a diagram on the other.
“So far as I can make out,” he said, “with the help of this rough diagram, the ship is at this moment twenty-eight and three-quarter miles east-north-east of us—there, or thereabouts. We will therefore run on that course for the next two hours and twenty-five minutes—by which means we shall cut off a few miles—and then we must haul up on the same course as herself, and make a dead run after her.”
Then von Schalckenberg spoke up. “May I be permitted to have a word or two with Lady Elphinstone?” he asked, addressing Sir Reginald.
“By all means, my dear fellow,” answered the baronet. “Here you are.” And he passed over the telephone.
Taking the instrument, the professor adjusted it for use, pressed the black knob, and the bell began to ring. Almost immediately it ceased again, however; whereupon the designer of the Flying Fish spoke.
“Are you there, my Lady?” he asked.
“Yes, Professor,” came the reply. “I am listening.”
“Where are you now, Madame?” asked von Schalckenberg.
“I am still in Ida’s cabin,” answered her Ladyship.
“Good!” remarked the professor. “Now, please listen very attentively to what I am about to say. But, tell me first, is Barker still in the pilot-house?”
“Yes; he is steering the ship, and—I think—trying to find out the use of all the levers and wheels and things that he sees there.”
“Ah!” exclaimed the German, in alarm; “he must be stopped, quick, or heaven only knows what may happen. Now, please listen. Have you the courage to steal very quietly up to the foot of the pilot-house staircase, and do a very simple thing, quickly, before he knows that you are there, and what you are doing?”
“I have the courage; but I may not have the ability,” answered Lady Olivia. “What is it that you wish me to do?”
“I want you,” said von Schalckenberg, “to go to the place I have named, and stand between the staircase and the bulkhead, or wall, with your back turned to the stairs. Then, in the bulkhead, immediately in front of you, you will observe what appears to be the door of a small cupboard. Open this, and you will see just inside a lever sloping upward to the right. Grasp the handle, and push the lever as far as you can over toward your left—it should move quite easily—and you will have effectually shut Barker into the pilot-house, from which he cannot then get out to interfere with you. Let me know when you have done this, and I will then tell you what next to do.”
“Right,” came the answer. “I will do it, if it is to be done.”