Dangerous Cargo (14 page)

“Something to tie him with,” he said calmly.

Mme. Storey handed him two scarves, one for the man’s wrists, one for his
ankles. Fahrig was left writhing on the floor. Les got up, dusting his
hands.

“He started in by telling me I was a fine fellow,” he began, “and how it
was a dirty shame the way I had been treated, and every man on the ship would
back me up if I wanted to get square. He started to abuse the
boss—well, I needn’t go into that. I agreed with everything he said.
When he cussed, I cussed, and we were soon good friends.”

“He’s lying!” whined Fahrig from the floor. “This is an attempt to
railroad an innocent man!”

Nobody paid any attention to him.

“He said,” Les continued, “that if the boss kept on the way he was going
there would be a mutiny on this ship, and not only the boss but all the
guests would be murdered, and I said that was right. He said it would be a
good act to stop the boss in order to save those innocent lives, and I
agreed. He asked me if I was man enough to do it, and I said ‘Sure, if I
thought I could get away with it.’ He said that would be easy.

“So he began to dope it all out. He knew that I was on watch from four
until eight, and that I was stationed as lookout in the bows. He asked me if
I could steal away from my post for a little while. I said ‘Sure, it was only
an empty form to keep watch in the bows on a clear night, but I had to be
there to strike the ship’s bell every half-hour when I heard the bell on the
bridge.’

“So he told me to wait until one bell, that is four-thirty, when the other
watch would have turned in, and the ship would be quiet. I was then to steal
back through the corridor to the boss’s suite on A deck aft. The corridor
door is locked at night, but he had a key for me. I asked him how about the
watchman amidships, and he said after the passengers turned in, the watchman
sat in the forward companionway outside the dining-saloon and took a good
sleep.

“He said there was a special lock on the door of the boss’s suite, but he
had a key for that, too. He told me the boss was drinking hard. Nobody was on
to it because he carried it so well. He stayed up every night as long as he
could get anybody to stay with him, but he had to go to bed sometime, and
when he turned in he slept like he was drugged. He said he had that straight
from the boss’s valet.”

Horace’s face was a study as he listened to this story. Les told it in a
perfectly dry voice, so that Horace had no excuse to take offence.

“I said ‘How about this valet?’” Les went on, “‘Where does he sleep?’ He
said the valet slept in a little cabin just outside the door of the owner’s
suite. I said he had a key to the suite, I reckoned, and if he heard anything
why couldn’t he follow me in there? And this fellow said sure he has a key,
but you can lock him in as you go by. The valet never locks his door, but its
got a lock on it and I have the key. Suppose he did hear something, before he
could bust out you could make your getaway two or three times over.

“I asked him about this getaway, and he said after I put a bullet through
the boss’s head—he recommended me to put a pillow over the gun to
muffle the report—I could climb out of a little window in the bathroom
of the suite which opens on the open deck astern where the steering gear is.
The boss was most particular to keep that window locked, he said, but I could
always open it from the inside.

“Once outside I could drop the pistol overboard and there would be nothing
in the world to connect me with the deed. From that little deck astern there
is a ladder up to the promenade-deck, and another down to B deck, and I could
return either way. But I better make my way back through B deck, he said, in
order to avoid the watchman on the promenade.

“That’s all,” Les continued, “only he said there was somebody aboard the
ship who was so scared the way things were going that he was willing to put
up a thousand dollars to have Horace removed. And if I did my job, he said, I
could come back to-morrow night, same time, same place, and he’d pass me a
grand. And I said,‘Well, I was a poor man and I couldn’t refuse it.’”

Horace, with a black face, took a step towards the bound figure on the
floor. “Who hired you?” he demanded with an oath.

“Nobody hired me!” cried Fahrig. “It’s all lies! All lies!”

“I’ll find a way to make you tell!” said Horace, showing his teeth.

The man was livid with terror, but his eyes fixed themselves on Horace’s
in a kind of insane resolution. “You’ll never make me tell,” he said. “If you
was to kill me I would say the same. It’s all lies!”

“We’ll see,” said Horace.

Mme. Storey moved swiftly between him and Fahrig. “No torture!” she
said.

“Why not?” demanded Horace with an ugly scowl.

“Because I won’t stand for it,” she coolly answered. Horace glared at her,
but she steadily faced him out. He turned away his head. “Besides, it’s not
necessary,” she said in a milder voice. “I know who hired him.”

The four of us went into a huddle in the corner of the room as far as
possible from Fahrig.

“You mean the captain,” said Horace. “But what proof have we beyond the
fact that Fahrig is his servant?”

“I have the proof—now,” she said. “The two guns that I took from
Holder and the gun that Farman handed me this morning were all of the same
make; moreover, they bore consecutive serial numbers. Obvious that they came
from the same source. I wirelessed my attorney in New York to find out from
the makers to whom these guns had been sold. I had his answer awhile
ago…”

“What did he say?” demanded Horace excitedly.

“Guns bearing those serial numbers were part of the equipment of arms
furnished to the yacht
Buccaneer
. Well, as you know, the arms are kept
in a locker adjoining the chartroom. There are two keys to it; the captain
has one and the first officer the other.”

Horace accepted it with a gloomy stare. He was badly shaken. “What must we
do?” he said blankly.

“Obviously, we must seize the ship and put the captain and his officers in
irons.”

“We’d be helpless!” murmured Horace.

Mme. Storey turned to Les. “Will you undertake to steer us into port,
Captain?”

“Sure,” said Les, carelessly confident.

Horace scowled at him. His feelings were badly mixed. He hated Les, but
now he was dependant on him. “But if the men are mutinous?” he growled.

“The men can be divided into two classes,” said Les. “The majority of them
are honest enough fellows whose minds have been poisoned against you by
ceaseless underground propaganda. I can bring them back all right by telling
them the truth. There is also a crooked ring, but if the officers are put
under guard they will keep very quiet. They wouldn’t dare act on their
own.”

“All right,” growled Horace, “you shall be captain.”

“We must act instantly,” said Mme. Storey, “before a whisper of what has
happened gets around the ship.”

“But there are only four of us,” objected Horace.

“Two men, two women.”

“Women are better than they used to be,” said Mme. Storey, smiling. “Who
else can we trust?”

“Well, there’s Martin, anyhow. We must get hold of Martin.”

Mme. Storey said nothing to that. From a drawer she got out three guns
that had originally come from the yacht’s arsenal. She gave one to Horace,
one to me, and kept the third. Les was already armed. She tied one of the
little capes around her neck that were fashionable at the moment, and held
the gun under her left arm where it was completely hidden. I had no cape, but
I hung a steamer rug over my gun hand. I had only to drop the rug in order to
bring the gun into play.

When we started for the door, Fahrig let out a kind of screech. It wasn’t
very loud, because his voice failed him. Instantly Les dropped beside him and
struck him a blow on the temple that put him out cold.

“It’s a shame to do it,” Les said with a sheepish grin, “but he was trying
to raise the ship.”

“I’m afraid he’s done it, too,” murmured Mme. Storey, listening inside the
door. Meanwhile Les was gagging Fahrig with a handkerchief.

There was a scurry of feet outside, an agitated knocking, and Sophie’s
voice asking: “Rosika, are you there? Did you hear that? Oh, what was it?”
Sophie’s suite was on the port side opposite ours.

Mme. Storey whispered to us: “We can’t hide it. We must lie out of it.”
She threw open the door.

Sophie stood there in peignoir and slippers, her hair all anyhow and cold
cream plastered on her face; a ghastly sight. Her eyes widened like saucers
when she saw the man on the floor.

“A thief,” said Mme. Storey. We caught him red-handed and he put up a
fight. But it’s all over now.

“Is he dead?” gasped Sophie.

“Oh, no, my dear. Only foggy.”

“Who is he?” asked Sophie pressing nearer.

Mme. Storey stood in front of her as if to shield her from the men. “My
dear, you’re a sight!” she murmured. Sophie, suddenly recalled to herself,
gave a little cry and scampered back to her own quarters. Les chuckled out
loud. Mme. Storey was both smiling and serious.

“Come on,” she said. “We must act instantly. Sophie might use the
telephone. There’s no time to look for Martin now.”

“Is it safe to leave this fellow here?” growled Horace.

“He’s safe for half an hour or so,” said Les cheerfully. “I’ll take care
of him later.”

We went out, locking the door behind us. The bedroom doors were already
locked.

THE four of us started up the forward companionway. Horace
hung back on the landing.

“What are we going to do?” he growled. “We must have a plan.”

“It is very simple,” said Mme. Storey. “First we seize the captain and
secure him. Second we secure the officer on watch. Third we secure the other
two officers wherever we find them. If we can take them one by one there need
be no fuss at all.”

We proceeded. At the head of the stairs in the dining-saloon forward two
stewards were arranging the table. We dined at eight on the
Buccaneer
.
We turned aft through the library which was no more than a corridor really,
leading past the engine trunk. The music-room followed, then the after
companionway with the big lounge on the other side. All this part of the ship
was empty.

But from the companionway we could hear a murmur of voices in the
winter-garden overhead. After listening for a moment or two, Mme. Storey
said: “Captain Grober, Adrian and Dr. Tanner.”

“It will look odd to them if I am with you,” said Les.

“It’s all right if I bring you,” muttered Horace.

Les had a mind of his own in such matters. Always smiling, he said: “I’ll
go up by the deck. I’ll be right outside if you want me.”

“We must have something with which to bind our prisoners,” said Mme.
Storey.

“The irons are kept in the arms locker off the chart-room,” said Les.

She looked into the lounge. The window curtains were caught back with
heavy silk cords. Les, following the direction of her glance, ran in, and
making a hasty round of the windows, unhooked the cords and stuffed them in
his pockets.

He ran out on deck, and the rest of us started up the stairway. Mme.
Storey murmured to Horace.

“Bella and I will take the captain out on deck. You had better remain
behind to watch the other two. I don’t know where Tanner stands.”

“And Adrian?” he said truculently.

“You know what I think about Adrian…If you hear nothing outside, you
will know that it is all right and you can follow us to the bridge.”

The companionway ended in a little lobby adjoining the winter-garden. This
charming room with its growing plants and wicker furniture had the effect of
a pavilion up on the boat deck. It was a fair warm night, though the sea was
somewhat rough, and the after end of the room was wide open to the deck. The
three men were seated in a row looking out through the opening. Thus we came
on them from behind.

Hearing us, they rose like three automatons, each with his drink in his
hand; Captain Grober, blond, correct and wooden; Dr. Tanner with his stupid
pop eyes and dinky moustache; and Adrian, so tall and handsome—and so
soft! I advanced towards them, gripping my gun under the rug, and steeling
myself not to tremble.

Horace was glum, but he always was, so that didn’t matter. Mme. Storey
hailed the three gaily. “How inviting it looks out on deck,” she said.
“Captain Grober, are you for ten minutes’ walk before I have to go and
dress?”

She had not heretofore singled him out, and perhaps he was surprised, but
anyhow, he clicked his heels together and bowed from the waist. “Delighted,
Madam!”

He tossed off the rest of his drink, and they passed out through the
opening with me following meekly. When the captain saw that I was coming too,
he said: “Allow me to carry the rug, Miss.”

The Lord knows what he thought I was going to do with it! I drew back
hastily. “Oh, it’s no trouble!” I said.

Meanwhile Mme. Storey was saying: “Where’s the Southern Cross,
Captain?”

“Not up yet, Madam. Do you know the Southern Cross is always a
disappointment to Northerners. One hears about it all one’s life, and then,
after all, it’s no brighter than our own stars!” etc., etc. The German was a
little dazed by her flow of language.

She led the way forward. Once we had passed the lighted windows of the
winter-garden it was dark on deck, but not absolutely. When we had covered
about half the distance to the bridge she stopped, and the gun appeared from
under her arm. I dropped the rug and pointed my gun.

“Put up your hands!” she said crisply.

There was light enough to show the guns, and he obeyed very quickly.
“What! What! What!” he spluttered in very broken English. “Is this what you
call a choke, madam?”

“Just as you like. I’m staging a mutiny by order of the owner…Les!” he
said softly.