“Me? Man could see clean through me.” The chief winked at him. “But look at this code; and all that pencilin’ under it is writ by the most talented engineer on the Western Ocean.”
Drake glanced down at the flimsy bit of paper. He saw first a jumble of phrases and part words. But below that a penciled legend made sense.
All ships.
Varnavosk dying. Look for strong man capable killing bare-handed.
No signature this time.
“Where’d you get this?”
Drake stiffened. He glanced forward uneasily; but Cray’s blind was drawn on the little window of his cabin. Cray’s door was shut.
“Where’d you think? Notice the Old Man yesterday and today?” the old chief asked. “Well, he’s fair wild. He come down this mornin’ an’ asks me to trot along, confidential. We goes to that wife beatin’ runt’s cabin. The runt is out on deck. Old Man and me, we rip up the floorboards, we pry apart the bunk.”
“Looking for what?”
“He wouldn’t tell at first. Then, when we found nothin’, he begun to rave about jewelry. Him, that’s carried such downan’-outs before, lookin’ for jewelry in that cabin. Told me to shut up. Left me standin’ on air, like. So I mooched. Half an hour ago Cray comes down with this. Old Man looks her over, puzzles her out. He was standin’ by his cabin. Next he dives in, grabs somethin’, pockets it—an’ comes out again. Know what he grabbed?”
“No.”