“It was too easy,” he was saying, with a sound that was perhaps a mirthless imitation of a laugh. “It’s queer ther’s such darn fools running around loose. That boy, Carver, and Stern, here, surely needed wet-nurses before they set out to handle a bunch of dust the way they thought. Why should I stand around on a lousy commission with the stuff lying safe under my hatches, and with only a bum crew of Chinks, an’ a few poor whites to deal with.” He shook his head. “Not on your life. I’d have stood for equal share. I’d have let that boy live for some other guy to do up later. But he guessed to hand me commission. Me, who was the only thing that could help him handle his stuff right. No. My mind was fixed the moment Stern an’ me signed our charter. There was haf a million of stuff to trade, and I guessed I knew who would do the trading.”
He paused and shifted his position. His audience remained unmoving but watchful.
“I got him in the doldrums south of the line,” he went on, after a moment. “It didn’t need argument how best I could fix him. He was soft in his foolishness. It was in the night. There wasn’t any darn moon, and a thin cloud hid up the stars. There wasn’t a breath of wind, an’ it was as hot as hell. I guessed a walk along the deck would be better than blankets on a night like that, and he guessed that way, too. Then I’d got another thought back of my head. You see, I knew the monkey tricks of the sailorman, whether Chink or white. In the doldrums, without a breeze, you can never keep a watch on deck out of their blankets at night. The midnight watch came on deck an’ the others went to quarters. Then us two folks started pacing the main deck for cool. You see, the moment the watch had changed they’d oozed off for’ard and rolled into their blankets, and we were left to the main deck where even the man at the wheel couldn’t guess the thing happening. There was only the officer of the watch. I waited for him. He went below to get a drink, I guess. That was my time. That boy and me were away up near the winch. I jerked that long knife of mine in through the neck of his thick peacoat. It went deep and far, and he dropped in my arms without a sound. It’s the Indian trick of skewering a man’s heart, and comes easy with practice. I heaved him to the rail and dropped him over, and the thing was done without a mess, and in a few seconds. Then I waited for the officer. I treated him as he came out from the cabin, and got rid of him, too. It was not because he knew a thing. But I looked to make an atmosphere for those who were to learn things later. Then I dealt with the boy at the wheel, and left the ship with a loose helm. After that I went below and waited. The thing I guessed happened. The ship yawed and was set flat aback. And in awhile I was shouted for by one of the watch. I cleared from my bunk and raised hell till he’d told me the thing that had happened. It was a play game to me. It was an elegant show. I mustered the watches, and looked for the absentees. I located the first officer was missing. Then I got wise that Carver, too, was nowhere around. Then I raised every sort of hell a feller born to the sea knows about. And in the end had the second officer log a scrap. A ‘hold-up’ by one of the Chink crew—identity unguessed. And it worked smooth and easy, as I knew it would when dealing with a bunch of sailor toughs without sense between ’em the size of a buck louse. Maybe it was—too easy.”
There was a moment of reflective silence before the man spoke again. McLagan made no attempt to urge him. A queer nauseation affected him deeply as he watched the man, who, now that he had embarked upon his story, seemed rather to enjoy dwelling on the hideous incidents of it. Len Stern was less calm. All the youth in him was aflame. The cold satisfaction of Caspar in telling of the slaughter of his partner drove him almost beyond his powers of restraint.
“The game was only at its start,” Caspar went on at last. “I’d got it clear cut in my mind. We were coming up through the big islands, and at first I thought of running for the China coast. But it didn’t take long to show me it was liable to be a bad move with twelve Chinks aboard out of a crew of eighteen. I changed plan right away. I’d run for Alaska where gold is found. I’d deal with the crew one way or another, and abandon ship, and run the gold inland by motor launch where its presence wouldn’t set a flutter stirring. From the start luck ran with me, but it was only later I was to learn how well it was running.”
“My next move was obvious to a feller looking to lose himself and his bunch,” he continued, with his queer eyes lighting unwholesomely. “I was my own wireless man. It was mostly a hobby with me, and I’d set it up myself. I got busy and sent out a distress signal. I sent it out telling the darn fools who picked it up I was foundering a thousand miles from where I happened to be sailing. I kept sending it to make sure, and I guess it didn’t let me down. As a result my craft was fathoms deep in the South Pacific. That left me free with leisure to fix the crew when, and the way, I wanted ’em.”
He drew a deep breath and once he raised his eyes derisively to the frowning dark face of Len Stern. Then he went on at once.
“I wanted that crew for awhile. We’d a mighty big piece of sailing to do before I put the rest of my plan into operation. It’s queer, now I think of it, how my luck stood by. We steered E.N.E. after we’d cleared the islands. And it came on to blow hard. But it was a fair breeze, dead on our quarter, and I carried on every stitch of canvas we could spread. There were times when those darn Chinks groused. They came aft an’ once looked ugly. But I didn’t let go. No. I needed ’em yet. The only feller I didn’t need was the second officer. Well, I took council with the Chink steward I carried. He was a boy who knew me good, and who’d worked for me since ever I’d held a master’s ticket. He was handy. I guess he was quicker with a knife than any yeller mongrel I’ve ever seen. Well, it was blowing hard and a dead black night, and when morning came and the wind eased there was a dead officer overboard and only the boy who acted as third and me to run the ship. And so we came along up towards the fifties, where we ran into elegant fair weather like spring, for all it was dead winter. I guess the Pacific’s well named.
“Then the thing that made me feel real good—at first—happened. It happened at change of watch midday. The bunch were waiting amidships to take over, standing around smoking and chewing like the lousy crowd they were. The sun was beating down fine on the litter of lumber stacked on the deck. I was on the poop deck watching those boys and guessing about things. And in the midst of it I saw them boys take a hunch to themselves peeking down the deck. I looked too. An’ then—Say, you’ve seen it, McLagan. Yes. It was there. Right at the spot where I jerked my knife under his collarbone. It was there just as crazy a thing as I ever see. But it was there, and stayed there, just as long as the sun shone. I wanted to laff. Then I didn’t. Then I thought hard an’ waited, and pretended I hadn’t seen.
“It was two days later the play began,” he went on, his manner becoming harsher. “They came aft. The whole darn bunch. An’ I kind of knew the thing coming. I was ready for ’em. I saw my whole play in a jump. That queer thing had been there each day, an’ all the time the sun shone. Oh, it made me sick, their fool slobber. But I listened. You see, we were near to the coast, and the weather was elegant for my plans. So I listened. The darn ship was haunted. That was their stuff. They were plumb scared, the whole bunch, except three cold-blooded Chinks who’d the nerve of the whole flock. I listened and I agreed. I told ’em I’d seen it too, and was just as badly scared as they were. But I wasn’t a darn fool and wasn’t yearning for an open boat for the sake of a crazy shadow. Then I pretended savage and told ’em to get right back to their sennit an’ holy-stone, or I’d dose their darn guts with lead. It acted the way I wanted. They tried to rush me. I had Jim Shan, the steward, with me. A sign from him, and the other three Chinks lent a hand. They turned on the bunch. And I unloosed. There was a tough scrap, but we beat ’em back. When they were rightly cowed I handed ’em the thing I’d do. They could have one of the launches. It was a hundred miles to Seattle. They could have the vittles and get. They went. And the darn third officer went with ’em. And next day it blew a howling winter gale. I guess they’d as much chance as cordite in hell. I was left with four Chinks which included Jim Shan.