CHAPTER XVII. THE TURNING UP OF A BAD PENNY AND ITS RESULTS.
Nattie's duties as warehouseman and shipper of the firm took him aboard the shipping of the port day by day. When a consignment of tea or silk was conveyed from the "go-down" in lighters to the steamers riding at anchor in the bay, the lad would visit the vessels to see that the goods were checked properly.
Also when the smaller coasting craft would arrive from other ports with cargoes from the local agents of the firm, Nattie's duty carried him on board to sign the receipts.
One morning while on the latter journey to a coaster from Kobe he was surprised to see an old acquaintance among the crew. It was the recreant watchman, Patrick Cronin.
Still harboring resentment for the fellow's actions on that memorable night when Willis Round made his dastardly attempt to fire the "go-down" with its valuable contents, Nattie passed him without recognition. After attending to his business on board, he started to leave the little steamer.
As he was preparing to descend to his cutter, he felt a touch upon his shoulder. Turning, he saw Patrick with an expression of great humility upon his rugged face.
"What is it?" asked Nattie, sharply.
"I beg your pardon, sir, but could Oi have a bit of a talk wid yer?" replied the Irishman, pleadingly.
"Well, what do you wish to say? Make haste; I am in a hurry."
"Could yer step back here a bit where we won't be overheard, sir? It's something of interest to yourself Oi have to say, sir. Maybe ye'll think it's valuable information Oi have before Oi'm through."
Laughing incredulously, Nattie walked over to the break of the forecastle, and bade his companion proceed with his yarn. He thought it would prove to be a sly attempt to secure another position with the firm, and he firmly intended to refuse the request.
"Now what is it?" he again demanded, impatiently.
"It's mad ye are at me, Oi suppose?"
"See here, Patrick Cronin, if you have anything to tell me, speak out. My time is too valuable to waste just now. If you intend to ask for a situation with the firm you had better save your breath. One experience with you is enough."
Instead of becoming angry at this plain talk, Patrick set to chuckling with good humor.
"Oi don't blame yer for being down on me," he said, with what seemed very like a wink. "Oi should not have let that spalpane tempt me wid th' drink. Oi have it in for him, and by th' same token that's why Oi'm now talking to yer."
"Do you know where Willis Round is?" quickly asked Nattie.
"Maybe Oi do, and maybe Oi don't. It's for you to say, sir."
"For me to say? What have I to do with it?"
"Would yer like to capture him?" asked Patrick, cunningly.
Nattie thought a moment before replying. Would it really be worth the candle to bring the ex-bookkeeper to justice? The chase might entail a journey and some expense. But then would it not be advisable for the sake of future peace to have Round behind prison bars?
"As long as he is at liberty," thought the lad, "we can expect trouble. This chance of disarming him should not be neglected."
"Yes; I would very much like to capture the fellow," he added, aloud. "I suppose you know where he is, or you would not mention the subject."
"I do know his whereabouts this blessed minute."
"Well?"
The Irishman leered significantly.
"Ah, you wish to sell the information, I suppose?" said Nattie, a light breaking in upon him.
"It's wise ye are."
"Can you tell me exactly where he is, so that I can send and have him arrested?"
"No, no. Ye mustn't send the police, sir. If ye want to capture the spalpane ye must go yerself, or wid a friend. The boobies of officers would spoil everything. If Oi give the man away Oi must be sure he will be put in prison, as he'd kill me for informing on him."
"Oh, I see," said Nattie, contemptuously. "You wish to save your precious skin. Well, if it is worth while I'll go for him myself, or probably take Mori. Now where is he?"
"Is the information worth twenty pounds, sir?"
"No; decidedly not."
Patrick looked discomfited.
"But think of th' good Oi'm doing yer," he pleaded. "Mister Round is a bad man, and he'll keep yer in a torment of suspense until ye put him away. Won't ye make it twenty pounds, sir?"
"No."
"Then how much?"
"Half that is a big amount for the information."
"Call it twelve pounds, and it's a bargain."
"All right; but understand, you are not to get a cent until the man is captured."
"Oh, Oi'll agree to that. Oi'll go wid yer if ye pay the fare."
"Very well. Now where is Willis Round?"
"He's stopping in Nagasaki."
"Nagasaki? What part?"
"That Oi'll show yer in due time. He's hid away in a place ye wouldn't dream of lookin' into. When do you want to start, sir?"
"As soon as possible. We can leave on the evening train and reach there by daylight. Get your discharge from the steamer and report to me at the station about six o'clock."
"And who will ye take besides me, sir? It'll be just as well to have a mate, as there's no telling what'll happen."
Nattie eyed the speaker keenly.
"So you think there will be no trouble in effecting the capture, eh?" he said.
"No; but it's a good thing to be prepared in this worruld."
"There is more truth than poetry in that," was the grim reply. "I think Mr. Okuma will accompany me. He intended to run down in that direction before long, anyway. Now don't fail, Patrick. Be at the station at six."
The ex-watchman waved his hand in assent as the lad entered his boat, then he retreated to the forecastle with an expression of great satisfaction upon his face. During the balance of the morning he proceeded about his work with evident good humor.
Shortly before noon he borrowed a piece of paper and an envelope from the purser, and laboriously indited a letter with the stump of a lead pencil. Sealing the epistle, he wrote upon the back:
"Mister Jesse Black, Esq.,
"The Bund, forninst Main Street,
"Yokohammer, Japan."
After regarding his work with complacency, he asked the captain for his discharge. On being paid off, he went ashore and disappeared in the direction of the general post office.
In the meantime Nattie had returned to the office, supremely unconscious of Patrick's duplicity. He found Grant and Mori making up the invoices for a cargo of lacquered ware. He explained his news at once.
"It's a good chance to strike Black & Son a blow they will be not likely to forget in a hurry," he added, throwing himself into a chair. "Perhaps we can get a confession from the fellow, also."
"You mean about that debt?" asked Mori.
"Yes. When he is compelled to face a five years' sentence for attempted arson perhaps he'll 'split' on his confederates. In that case if it turns out as we suspect, the English firm will be wiped out."
Grant shook his head doubtfully.
"I do not like the source of your information, Nattie," he said. "In my opinion, Patrick Cronin is not to be trusted."
"Oh, he's all right. He has it in for Round for playing him such a trick, and he is trying to get even. Then the twelve pounds is something to him."
"We might run down to Nagasaki," thoughtfully remarked the Japanese youth. "I intended to drum up trade in that direction, anyway. It will be a nice little trip, even if nothing comes of it."
"Something tells me that it will be a wild-goose chase," replied Grant. "You can try it, though. I can spare both of you for three or four days about now. You need a vacation, anyway."
"What about yourself, brother?" asked Nattie, generously. "You have worked harder than either of us. Why can't you come also?"
"What, and leave the business go to the dogs! Oh, no, my dear boy. What would I do with a vacation? I am never happier than when I am pouring over accounts in this office, believe me. Get away with you now. Run home and pack up for your trip. But let me give you a bit of advice."
"What is it?"
"Take revolvers, and see that the cartridges are in good condition. Also, don't go poking about the suburbs of Nagasaki without a squad of police."
"One would think we are bound after a band of outlaws in the Indian Territory at home," laughed Nattie. "Willis Round is not such a formidable man as all that."
"No; but you don't know who else you may have to contend with. Another thing: keep your eye on Patrick Cronin. Good-by."
On reaching the station that evening Mori and Nattie found the Irishman awaiting their arrival. He was all smiles and good humor, and his rugged face was as guileless as that of a new-born babe. Verily the human countenance is not always an index to one's true nature.
"It's plazed Oi am to see yer, gentlemen," he said, suavely. "I did think ye might be after changing yer minds. It's near train time now."
"We are here," replied Nattie, briefly. "Get into the car."
He purchased three tickets, for Nagasaki by way of Kobe and followed them into the train. A moment later the long line of coaches left the station and rolled rapidly on into the night.
After a brief stop at Kobe, which was reached shortly before daybreak, the train resumed its course along the edge of the sea. A short distance from the city the tracks were laid directly upon the coast, only a parapet of stone separating the rails from the water's edge.
Feeling restless and unable to sleep, Nattie left his bed, and throwing on his outer clothing, stepped out upon the platform. He was presently joined by Mori, and the twain stood watching the flitting panorama.
A storm, which had been gathering in the south, presently broke, lashing the broad surface of the sea into an expanse of towering waves. As the gale increased in force, the caps of water began to break over the parapet in salty spray.
"Whew! I guess we had better beat a retreat," exclaimed Mori, after receiving an extra dash of moisture.
"Wait a moment," pleaded Nattie. "I hate to leave such a grand scene. What a picture the angry seas make! My! that was a tremendous wave! It actually shook the train."
"Murder and saints!" groaned a voice at his elbow. "Phwat is the matter, sir? Is it going to sea we are in a train of cars? 'Tis the first time Patrick Cronin ever traveled on a craft without masts or hull. Oi think it do be dangerous along here, saving yer presence."
Before either Nattie or Mori could reply to the evidently truthful remark, a line of water, curling upward in threatening crests, dashed over the parapet and fairly deluged the platforms. It was with the greatest difficulty the three could retain their hold.
Now thoroughly alarmed, they endeavored to enter the car. Suddenly the speed of the train became lessened, then it stopped altogether. A moment later the grinding of heavy driving wheels was heard, and the line of coaches began to back up the track. It was a precaution taken too late.
Before the cars had obtained much headway a wall of glistening water was hurled over the parapet with resistless force, sweeping everything before it. Amid the shouts and screams of a hundred victims the coaches and engine were tumbled haphazard from the track, piling up in a mass of wreckage against the cliff.