Dangerous Cargo (17 page)

“Oh, I don’t set up to be a fighter,” simpered Adrian. “I am just a
playboy.”

“But what was your reaction when the noise broke out?” Horace persisted.
“I’m curious to know.”

“I ran up forward,” said Adrian. “I looked into the wheelhouse and saw men
struggling…”

“And then you ran aft again!”

“How could I help?” said Adrian. “I wasn’t armed. It was dark in the
wheelhouse, and I couldn’t even tell which was friend and foe…Like Frank, I
thought of the women. I ran down to A deck to reassure Sophie.”

“Seems to me you were the one who needed reassuring,” said Horace. There
was a laugh around the table. Adrian made believe to join in it.

“I didn’t see you,” said Sophie sharply.

“Well, I knocked on your door and you didn’t answer.”

“Then what did you do?” asked Horace.

“Ran up on the promenade with the others.”

“What was I doing when you reached the scene?” asked Mme. Storey,
laughing. “Swedish exercises?”

“You were just climbing up on the stool.”

“You weren’t there,” I said. “You didn’t come until…”

“You’re mistaken,” he said quickly. “I was round on the port side, where
you couldn’t see me. Afterwards I came over to starboard.”

I thought: Maybe so! But I didn’t say anything.

Mme. Storey appeared to pay no attention to this, but she was merely
biding her time. There was a lot of fun up and down the table at Adrian’s
expense. Finally Martin blinked at him and drawled:

“Funny two brothers should look alike, and be so different in
character!”

This gave her an opening. “Character is written in the hand,” she said.
“Let me see what yours has to say, Adrian.”

He was seated opposite her. He stretched his right hand across the table.
“No, the left one!” she said. “The left hand shows what you were born with,
and the right hand what you have made of yourself.”

She grasped his fingers and bent them back, the better to see his palm.
Adrian winced involuntarily, and made as if to withdraw his hand. “What’s the
matter?” asked Mme. Storey. “Oh! you have cut yourself! I’m so sorry I
squeezed it.”

When she called attention to it I could see the little cut on the inside
of his middle finger. It had been soaked in water and no blood showed, but
only the clean little wound. It began to bleed again, and Adrian hastily
conveyed his finger to his mouth.

“That ought to be covered,” said Mme. Storey carelessly.

“What did you read in his hand?” somebody asked.

“A long life of luxury!” she said.

The talk went on. Adrian took his part in it without suspecting that he
had betrayed himself. The discovery opened up a lurid vista in my mind.
Adrian fascinated me, he was so soft and so dangerous. I couldn’t reconcile
it with the way he played the fool.

AS we left the dining-saloon a wireless message was handed
to Mme. Storey. She took it down to our cabin to decode it. When she returned
on deck she did not tell me what was in it. I judged from her face that it
was serious, though as long as the crowd was around she appeared as
rattle-brained as ever.

Horace, Martin, Mme. Storey and I went up to the chartroom to consult with
Captain Farman. Horace brought Martin into it as a matter of course. To do
Martin justice, I must say that his suggestions, on the whole, showed better
judgment than those of his employer.

Old Jim was still at the wheel. The door into the wheelhouse was closed,
of course. Les told us of the arrangements he had made.

“I know the crew pretty well,” he said, grinning, “because I’ve had a
fo’c’sle view of them. I have chosen two men that I can trust for helmsmen. I
want to use old Jim to look after the prisoners.”

“Who will take command while you are sleeping?” asked Mme. Storey,

“McLaren, the chief engineer. He’s had sea experience enough to keep her
on her course, and that’s all I need. I will be close at hand if I’m wanted.
There has never been any trouble in the engine-room, and he can be
spared.”

“Where are we?” asked Horace.

“I’ll show you.”

We all bent over the chart. Les made a dot with his pencil. “According to
the reckoning I found when I took command, we are here: 10.70 North; and
56.17 West. We have passed beyond all the islands out into the open sea. I
will verify it as soon as I can take an observation. As you can see, we are
about equi-distant from Georgetown, Demerara, Port-of-Spain, Trinidad, and
Bridgetown, Barbadoes. We could fetch either place about noon to-morrow.
Barbadoes is the nearest to home.”

“What’s the nearest U.S. port?” asked Horace.

Les spread another chart on the table. “In actual mileage, Miami is a
little nearer,” he said, “but we have made so much easting we can fetch New
York almost as soon.”

“How long to New York?”

“We’re making about sixteen knots now. I don’t know what she could do if
we pushed her. Anyhow, we could make New York inside of four days.”

“Then I’m for New York,” said Horace.

“I’m for Barbadoes,” said Mme. Storey.

“Why?” he demanded irritably.

“Because it’s nearer.”

“But we’ve got the situation well in hand.”

“There will be just that much less time to hatch a new plot.”

“The plotters are under lock and key!”

“Some of them are.”

Opposition always put Horace in a fury. “Damn it!” he cried, “I’m not
going into any stuffy British port to get all tied up in red tape! Do you
know what British red tape is? We would spend the rest of our lives unwinding
it! Bottled up in some dirty little two-by-four harbour! I won’t risk
it!”

“The British get to the bottom of things,” said Mme. Storey.

“Maybe so! But they’re too slow for me!…What do you say, Martin?”

Martin agreed with him, of course. “I’m for New York. In our own home town
we know where we are.”

“Sure!…Farman, will you undertake to navigate us to New York?”

“Certainly, sir, if those are the orders.”

“Let it be New York, then. Those are your orders.”

“I’ll dope out the course immediately, sir.”

Mme. Storey sucked in her cheek and said nothing.

As we filed out of the chartroom she said to Horace: “There are other
matters that I must talk to you about.”

“Come down to my cabin,” he growled.

This was the first time I had been in Horace’s private suite. His
sitting-room occupied the whole width of the vessel aft on A deck. There was
a bedroom of almost equal size beyond it, and a wardrobe and bathroom tucked
into the stern. A dream of luxury, but I did not envy the possessor of it
all. He looked as if seven devils were gnawing him. He was in love with my
employer, she exasperated him beyond endurance merely by being what she
was.

We dropped into seats alongside the charming Adam fireplace—Horace
could have a real fire there if he wanted it. “Well, what is it?” he growled.
He scowled at her like a pirate even while his sullen eyes were begging for
mercy.

Mme. Storey said: “It was Adrian who set the Captain and first officer
free.”

“What!” cried Horace. “How do you know?”

She told him.

“God!” he muttered. “My own brother!…Oh, I know he’s a fool, and I treat
him rottenly, but he is my brother!…Maybe there’s some mistake. He appeared
out on deck several minutes before Grober burst out below. I saw him.”

“That proves nothing,” said Mme. Storey. “Grober and Niederhoff probably
took the time to look for guns.”

“Martin,” growled Horace, “go find Adrian and bring him here. Don’t tell
him what I want him for. Let me see his face!”

Martin slipped out of the room.

“What are you going to do with Adrian?” asked Mme. Storey.

“Oh, wait till I see him,” he groaned.

“You had better make up your mind before you see him. He ought to be
locked up with the other prisoners.”

“No!” cried Horace violently. “I won’t advertise him to the whole ship!
You ask too much of me!”

“You speak as if I wanted something for myself,” she said mildly. “My job
is to protect you. The nearer we get to port the greater the danger you are
in. The crooks can’t face an investigation.”

“Well, I’ll confine him,” he muttered. “But not with the others. I’ll make
him keep to his own quarters.”

“You might as well let him range the ship. The stewards have master-keys
that open all the doors on A deck except your suite.”

“What can I do with him, then?”

“Put him on B deck. Those rooms all have steel doors, and there are only
two keys to each; one in the door and a duplicate in the possession of the
watchman. When we were discussing what to do with the other prisoners, Farman
spoke of a room aft of the galley which is occupied by two cooks. They can be
shifted.”

“All right,” he growled.

In a few minutes Martin and Adrian came in. Adrian was laughing in his
usual light-headed fashion, but his eyes anxiously sought Horace’s face to
learn the reason for this summons.

“Sophie and I have been having it out hammer and tongs,” he said. “I love
to get the old girl going, she…”

“Cut the comedy,” growled Horace. “I want to know why you set Grober and
Niederhoff free after I had ordered them tied up.”

Coming like that, the shock knocked the breath out of Adrian. His face
turned perfectly blank, his mouth opened. It was a moment or two before he
could speak. “Why…why…why…” he stammered.

“Don’t lie,” said Mme. Storey quietly. “We know the whole story. You cut
the Captain’s bonds with a penknife out of the drawer of his dresser. In your
haste you cut your finger.”

Adrian stared at her helplessly. “…I wasn’t going to lie,” he gasped.
“It’s true, I set them free.”

Horace leaped to his feet. “You damned traitor!”

We thought he was going to spring on Adrian, and we watched him closely.
When he got his breath, Adrian turned as glib and voluble as a woman.

“How was I to know?” he whined. “You never tell me anything. I heard a cry
of mutiny on the bridge. I ran forward. I saw the Captain bound and helpless
on his bunk. Of course I set him free! I thought if there was mutiny aboard
he was the one to handle it!”

“Why didn’t you tell me this at once?” demanded Horace.

“I was afraid.” Adrian hung his head. “Well…I’m no hero. When I saw I
had done the wrong thing I was afraid to say anything.”

Horace looked at Mme. Storey. “What do you think?” he growled.

“I think he’s lying,” she said coolly.

“So do I!…Have him locked up.”

She went to the telephone and called the wheelhouse. She asked Les if he
could be spared for a few minutes to come down.

A wild cry broke from Adrian. “No, Horace, no! Don’t listen to her! I
swear I have never knowingly done anything against you! I’m your
brother!”

“Yes, my brother!” muttered Horace bitterly.

“I don’t mind being locked up!” cried Adrian. “I’d go through anything for
you! But it kills me to think that you believe I’m treacherous to you. Oh,
God, I wish you’d never made your filthy money! We were happy when we were
poor. When we were boys together in the old home. Remember how I followed you
around and imitated everything you did. How happy I was when you would let me
go fishing with you. You were my hero!”

Horace walked away, clapping his hands to his head. “For God’s sake cut it
out!” he muttered.

This painful scene was brought to an end when Les came in.

“Lock my brother up,” growled Horace.

“Yes, sir,” said Les, without batting an eye.

“Put him in the room on B deck that you were telling me about,” added Mme.
Storey.

“Shall I put him in irons like the others?”

“No!” shouted Horace.

“I advise it,” said Mme. Storey.

“I won’t have it! What harm can he do if you keep him locked up? Give me
one of the keys to his room, and you keep the other.”

“Very good, sir.” Les jerked his head towards the door. “Come on!”

Horace was a wreck when this was over. I could see that my employer was
sorry for him, but she would not let him see it, fearing that he might build
too much on it. “Come on, you need a drink,” she said.

We got our drink in the lounge because we suspected that the rest of the
gang was up in the winter-garden, and we didn’t want to meet them. Afterwards
the four of us walked on deck. Mme. Storey presently sent me down below.

I did not go to bed because I suspected that our work was not over for the
night. Sure enough, in about ten minutes Mme. Storey and Horace came into our
sitting-room. As soon as I had left the deck, Horace sent Martin away, hoping
to have a few minutes alone with her. Thus she had got rid of Martin without
appearing to. She then invited Horace down to our suite.

His face fell when he saw me. “Oh, God! here’s Bella! Don’t you ever go to
bed, Bella?”

“It doesn’t matter,” said Mme. Storey, “because we’ve got to talk
business.”

“More business!” he growled.

“I have a very unpleasant proposition to put up to you.”

“Well, it can’t be as bad as what you’ve done already. Shoot!”

She lit a cigarette while she considered how to avoid angering him. “I do
not feel that we have got to the bottom of this business,” she began
slowly.

“Why?”

“Because it doesn’t seem to me that there is enough persistency in
Adrian’s character to make him stick to a thing in the face of so many
difficulties. I suspect that somebody is spurring him on. A woman,
perhaps.”

“Ha! you mean Sophie,” exclaimed Horace. “It’s true they’ve been getting
pretty thick lately. What of it if Adrian is locked up.”

“Sophie or Adele,” she said.

“Adele!” he echoed, staring.

“It may be that she would like to get her hands on that legacy before you
make another will. Or she may fear that you will force her to return the
diamond. Whatever her motives may have been in the beginning, now she is so
beside herself with jealousy and the desire for revenge she doesn’t know what
she’s doing.”