Chapter IX: Part 9

"It's all right, Bo, the deed is done. I have the means at hand. They will be here shortly. Let's have a drink?" he said.

Mr. Smithe acquiesced, and over the liquor the plan was gone over to the mutual satisfaction of both.

"Gad, but you're not so bad, Mr. Journegan," said the brainy Smithe. "You have executive ability to a marked degree. You have imagination, a thoughtful mind--oh, if it had only been trained in its youth--"

"Skin it, Bo," said Journegan, "don't make me feel badly. I have seen things in my day, things just as instructive as anything you get out of text-books, even chemistry. Have another drink. My man will be here very soon. Don't go around packing that light artillery. It won't do if we're caught up suddenly. What would the Muldoons think if they found us going around this peaceful hostelry armed with Gatlings of forty-five calibre. No, put on your best duds and come away. We've won--mark what I say--we've won. I have the best diver on the Great Bahama Bank to do the trick, the best and biggest man on the reef--see. It's all right. Now, then, I hear his gentle footsteps on the veranda and I think we had better get him in here without delay--what?"

Half an hour later the mate of the _Sea-Horse_ emerged from the room with a faint smile upon his ugly face. He strode forth quickly and made his way to the water-front, getting into a small boat waiting for him and starting down the bay in the direction of the gold plant.

It was about eight in the evening, after supper at the hotel, that the party set out in a gasoline launch for the dock where the gold plant was located. The evening was fine and the western sky still showed the last faint tints of the setting sun. Darkness came apace and the cool sea-breeze made the ride very pleasant, the boat rushing through the water leaving a long, bright wake, flaring here and there with phosphorescence where the screw turned the water and sent it whirling astern. By the time they reached the dock it was quite dark, so dark in fact that the shadow of the wharf loomed dimly above the tide. The launch was made fast at the steps and the party climbed up into the enclosure.

"It is an ideal evening for our work," said Mr. Smithe to Mr. Jackson. "The tide is right and there seems to be no sea, no extraordinary commotion which might interfere with the chemical result. It is generally best to work on calm nights, but the process will obtain under each and every condition the weather permits. Allow me to light up." So saying he switched on the electric lights and the enclosure lit up dimly.

"Seems like you might have had a few more lamps," said Mr. Jones a little testily. "It'll be hard to see anything with just two sixteen-candle bulbs."

"I shall have that attended to at once," said Mr. Journegan. "You see we have been so busy with the results that we seldom miss the lights to any extent. The same current that lights up the place is used for forming the precipitate upon the wire--the gold precipitate, you understand."

"Well, let her commence," said Mr. Jackson, a little unfavourably impressed at the stillness and peculiar surroundings of the outfit. "I'll sit here on this box and wait--I hope it won't be long, but I must say that if you men can do this thing, you certainly can do something no one else has ever attempted in history--mind you, I don't say you won't do it, but I say commence, I want to see with my own eyes."

Mr. Smithe, with great deliberation and some complex manoeuvring, took up a wire and wrapped it in a cloth. He then fastened it with a small piece of copper wire and dipped the whole into a strong solution of something that had a most offensive odour.

"You see, gentlemen," said he, "the contents of this basin,"--here he pointed to the mixture which had such a terrific odour. "This is the secret part of the whole process, it produces the electrolysis which causes the gold to form upon the positive pole of the current. I shall now toss it overboard and we will await results."

He threw the wire over the edge of the enclosure and it disappeared at once in the black depths below. The white cloth tied to the end still showed faintly at a depth of six feet below the surface.

"I now shall start the current," he said, and taking up a hammer he struck savagely upon the flooring of the dock several time. There was a faint sound from shoreward, the sound of a gentle splashing, but this soon subsided. Suddenly a commotion in the water below attracted the attention of Mr. Jones. A large fish appeared to break water at the entrance of the enclosure. Then it disappeared, and Mr. Journegan remarked that the small sharks of the reef were most numerous at this season.

Mr. Smithe watched the surface of the water carefully. A huge dark shadow glided beneath him towards the end of the wire which held the white cloth.

"I must have more current," he called petulantly to Mr. Journegan, "give me more current for a few minutes, this wire is cold."

For answer Journegan switched off the lights for few seconds. Mr. Jones and Mr. Jackson watched the water steadily, but nothing broke its now black surface.

"It's getting warm now," called Mr. Smithe, and on the instant Journegan switched on the lights again. They all sat there for some minutes awaiting the result but the water gave no token save that now the cloth had disappeared from the end of the wire and as the minutes dragged by Mr. Smithe called attention to this fact.

"You see, it has begun to work," he called, pointing below at the invisible wire. "In a moment I shall pull it up--a few dollars worth of metal is all we need wait for to-night. I have an engagement at the Casino at ten."

Suddenly he pulled up the wire. Upon its end, fixed fast and apparently imbedded, was a small mass of a peculiar metal, bright, shiny and unmistakably gold. Yes, he had done it. He had made the sea give up its own. There it was, gold, pure gold in an ingot Worth about forty dollars. The astounded Mr. Jones gazed in wonder. The skeptical Mr. Jackson let his eyes open wide. It was certainly the wonder of the era. It was tremendous.

"You can take this specimen and have it assayed," said Mr. Smithe, handing the nugget to Mr. Jackson; "you can return it at your convenience."

When Mr. Smithe struck the blows with the hammer, thereby causing the current to flow, it roused Bahama Bill from his drowsing in the bottom of a small boat close to the shore. He grinned and arose. He had been told just what to do and paid heavily for keeping his mouth shut about doing it. It was none of his business why they did these things, it was his business to dive for money, no matter what the affair. He was well paid and he saw no reason why he should not take the money. A man of more refined mind would have possibly refused the work, but Bahama Bill was brought up in the school where it was necessary to live, necessary to have the means to live without going too far outside the rules of the game. It was Journegan's business to make gold out of sea-water. It was his to do a bit of diving for him and perform certain feats which might or might not affect the pockets of the gentlemen now waiting to see the result. There were so many questionable ways of separating folks from their coin that he was amused at the graft of these two. At the gambling house kept by the pious and strict manager of the hotel, there were many ways of separating folks from their cash. It had the sanction of the "Boss"--that was the only difference he could see in the matter. He was a plain wrecker, a man who made his living from the misfortunes of others. Yet it was a legitimate business, and he generally played fair. He was simply a big, powerful man, a giant diver of the Bank. He dropped his trousers and stood forth naked in the darkness as the last banging of the hammer died away. It was the signal agreed upon and without a moment's hesitation he made a long clean dive into the dark water. Coming to the surface he swam quickly and noiselessly toward the end of the dock where the gate, or opening in the piling, would allow him to get within the enclosure. He was a little doubtful of finding the end of the wire, as he had been instructed to, but he thought the white cloth might make it visible, for the water was very clear.

He never fancied swimming at night over the coral banks, for there were always many denizens of the ocean that came in and either rested or fed during the hours of darkness. Many a big shark lay log-wise in the waters of the reef during the night, waiting for a rush upon the feeding mullet or other small fry. He had found sharks always dangerous at this season of the year, and he was now without even a knife. However, he managed to reach opposite the opening without mishap. Then he floated silently and took a few deep breaths for the work in hand.

He could hear the voices of the men within the enclosure and he heard Mr. Smithe announce that the wire was ready. He was just about to dive when a disturbance in the sea close to him made him hesitate and turn. A triangular fin cut the surface not two fathoms distant. It was that of a gigantic shark. Instantly the diver went under and strove with mighty strokes to gain the opening in the piling. He felt instinctively that the monster would follow him, but it was the nearest place of refuge. Guided solely by memory of direction, he fairly tore through the water, struck the opening with his hand and with a mighty effort swung himself within, remaining under and shooting ahead with the momentum of his flight. A commotion, a sweep of a strong current at the gate told of a passing heavy body, but nothing touched him. He could not hold his breath much longer on account of the sudden effort, and he was sworn not to come to the surface within the piles. It was at this moment that Mr. Smithe, seeing something of what had occurred by the shadows beneath the surface, called for more electricity, and Journegan with his rare presence of mind switched off the lights. Bahama Bill came to the surface gently, and had it not been for the noisy conversation of Smithe, his deep breathing would surely have made his presence known to all. As it was he lay upon his back, close within the shadow of the piling and just let his nose come into the air. In a few moments he had regained his wind and sank downward to the end of the wire. Then Mr. Smithe switched on the light and announced that the wire was warm. It was a close call, close in more ways than one, but the mate had made good, he had done his part. He saw the white cloth without difficulty and attached the piece of gold. Then he fled for the open with a courage which might have called forth the admiration of the watchers had they known his danger.

Once clear, he swam silently and with all his strength for the small boat. The feeling that something was pursuing him kept him nerved to the utmost. He fairly tore through the sea, but only raised his head every twenty to thirty feet to breathe. He swam almost all the way under water. This he knew was the safest, for the predatory denizens of the coral banks depend as much on hearing, or a sense akin to it, as on sight. The feeling that something still followed drove him along at his top speed, but he could see nothing, know nothing of its shape or form. It was just the instinctive fear, or nerve straining one feels in the dark where danger lurks. He gained the small boat quickly and at that instant a great shadow swept past leaving a trail of phosphorescent fire in its wake.

"If you gentlemen are satisfied, we will now go back to the hotel," said Mr. Smithe with his most urbane manner. "If at any other time you would like a renewal of the test, we shall be only too glad to give it, provided of course, neither you nor your guests talk of the process and thus set curious people at work to find out our secret."

Amid murmurs of approval and congratulations, the party broke up and started back in the launch, Mr. Journegan especially active in getting away from the dock and explaining vehemently the reason that the extraction had not been made before was that it took a man with brains and one with executive ability to work a thing like that together, to a successful conclusion.

Before twenty-four hours had elapsed there had been a company formed with Mr. Smithe at its head, and there had been twenty-five thousand dollars in ready cash put at its disposal in the town bank for the purpose of carrying on the experiments and continuing the production of gold from the waters of the Bay of Biscayne.

Twice during the week following the experiment was repeated with equal success. The cloth disappeared from the wire and the gold was found upon the pole. It was astounding, but there was no way of contradicting the evidence of the senses. There was the gold. That was enough for many--gold, gold, gold. The thing took like wild-fire. The news was spread broadcast, and Bahama Bill sat in the mornings reading the papers with a grin of derision upon his big ugly face.

"Of course, it's none of my business," said Smart, "but if you're wise you'll not go into any crooked game. It's all well enough to repair their outfit, but if you're in anything crooked, you're not playing fair with me."

"Yo' wanted me toe go into it," growled the mate.

"I dun promised not to gib way nuthin'--fo' a big stake. Yous livin' high on fresh beef and good whack, Sam and Heldron is paid off and everythin' seems all right 'Tain't none of mah business what those fellows do--I'm jest doin' what I agreed to--jest divin'--divin'--see."

"Better quit it when you've got enough to lay by with until we make our deal," said Smart. "Of course you can't tell me what you do, what your lay is down at the plant?"

"I dun passed mah word," said Bahama Bill gravely. "I ain't playin' straight, but I dun passed mah word--"

"Could you give an exhibition of the part you play?" asked the sailor.

The big mate thought a moment. He did not seem to like the idea, it was not fair according to his standpoint of honour. He had his limitations, but he generally did what he said he would. At the same time he knew he was getting into a game which would cause him trouble in the end if he did not get out quickly. The thing was too good to last.

"Yep,--I--might," he finally said, grinning.

"I'll get some of the gentlemen down to the plant in the small boat and let them see, for I for one don't take much stock in that fellow who tried to skin me in his barroom to the southward," said Smart.

"Git 'em any time yo' see fit--I'll do the part I generally does," said the mate.

Smart dressed and went to the hotel. It was afternoon and the two partners in the gold plant were at the tables playing heavily. They were somewhat at ease as to their finances, for the thing was a veritable gold mine in fact. They knew nothing of the departure of Mr. Jones and Mr. Jackson in company with Smart and Bahama Bill, rowing down the shore in the small boat of the _Sea-Horse_. Reaching the dock, Smart had little difficulty in effecting a landing at the enclosure and of making an entrance. There was no lock upon the door, for there was nothing to secure, and the four men were soon within the sacred precincts of the gold plant.

"Which is the wire?" asked Smart of Mr. Jones. The gentleman explained.

"Was there anything on it?" he asked.

Mr. Jones said there was something like a bit of cloth. Smart tied a piece to it.

"Now, Bill, do what you generally do," said the captain.

The big mate grinned. He was undecided as to whether he was acting fairly with those who had employed him. Then he sprang into the small boat and rowed away a short distance. The three within the place waited.

Suddenly Smart called attention to a shadow approaching under the surface of the water. It came quickly within the gate of the pound, and although it was deep below the surface all had no difficulty in recognizing the giant form of Bahama Bill. The great black diver swam quickly to the end of the wire, pulled off the cloth and attached something in its place, going away instantly with powerful strokes. He was within the enclosure but a minute altogether and as he went rapidly through the water-gate into the open bay, he broke the surface just a little with one huge ham-like foot.

"As a swimming feat, that was the best exhibition I ever saw," said Jones to his friend. "In the night time it was wonderful. That white cloth was there for an excellent purpose, but even in that clear water it must have been hard to have picked it up to a certainty in the dark. I suppose the sooner we get the news to the marshal the better it will be for all hands. I for one am not very much ashamed of myself."

"Nor I," said Mr. Jackson.

"You will understand," said Smart, "that neither my mate nor myself had anything to do with the game further than to obey orders and accept pay for diving."

"You will neither be mentioned nor asked to appear--no matter what happens," assured Mr. Jones. "We will make this discovery ourselves. It is due us as intelligent men--eh?" he added to Mr. Jackson. That gentleman agreed with vigour.

Stormalong Journegan had lost heavily at the wheel, the seductive roulette. He said very little, but arose before his accomplice and going to the bank drew out nearly the whole amount to the credit of the company. As it happened the whistle of the Nassau steamer was blowing its first warning blast for the people to get ashore who were not going to sea within a few minutes. Journegan noticed it and walked along the water-front. As he went his way he noticed the small boat of the _Sea-Horse_ with Mr. Jones, Mr. Jackson, Smart and--yes, there was no mistake--Bahama Bill. The giant mate was rowing and sending the craft along with sweeping strokes. Stormalong Journegan looked but for a moment more. Then he ran with all the speed his long legs could give for the steamer. He reached her just as she was pulling out from the wharf and managed to make the jump aboard without creating comment. He instantly made his way to the lavatory, where he remained for at least an hour, washing and rewashing his hands. When he appeared on deck the steamer was well down the channel standing for the open sea. He was never seen again after landing the next morning at Nassau.

Mr. Smithe was aroused by a knock at his door some time that afternoon and he called out affably to the person to enter, thinking it his energetic partner, Mr. Journegan, whom he had missed for several hours. The marshal entered, and Mr. Smithe had the satisfaction of seeing his trusty gun lying safe and snug in his bureau drawer.

"You can raise your hands, Mr. Smithe," said the officer of the law.

Mr. Jones waited not very long before paying his hotel bill. He proceeded to the writing-room and wrote a short note home, telling of his marked improvement, his ability to travel alone, and that he would soon be North again. "I have been taking the gold cure," said he as he ended his letter, leaving his family very much disturbed.

Mr. Jackson found urgent business calling him North the next day. He declined to be interviewed. "In the interest of science, I shall keep the secret of the chemical precipitation of gold in sea-water," he said. "It is a wonderful discovery."

Bahama Bill sat and grinned in the morning as he read the news in the daily paper. Captain Smart felt easier in his mind.

"That man, Journegan, surely was a fellow of ability," he said. "He has cleared--gone clean away on the ship for Nassau--but I don't think he will ever come back."

"'Tain't likely," grunted Bahama Bill. "No, it won't do for him toe come along dis way agin--if yo' don't mind, cap, I'll git yo' toe write me a letter to my wife--fightin' Jule--I reckon I better be gittin' some ob dishear money down toe her, or she'll be a-coming along up heah fo' toe take a look at things.--I see dat Mr. Smithe has been let go--no one to prosecute him--toe bad, toe bad."

XIII

Shanghaing the Tong

Captain Smart sat upon the deck of the wrecking-sloop _Sea-Horse_, and read a letter from the agents of the cartridge company which had furnished the ammunition to the _Bulldog_, brig, wrecked some time before upon the Great Bahama Bank. It caused him some uneasiness, for he scowled and wrinkled his brow, read and re-read it until the giant black mate, Bahama Bill, could keep back his curiosity no longer.

"What is it, cap? What dat guy say? No use keepin' bad news back. I kin stan' it, I reckon. Let's have his lay--ain't dat cartridge case no good?"

"He says," began Smart, "that the samples are good, that the cases are all right, and he will take the ten tons, about three hundred thousand rounds, at a cent and a half, the cartridges retailing at three cents, or thirty dollars per thousand. That nets us four thousand five hundred, or a little over two thousand dollars apiece for our day's work----"

"Well, dat ain't so bad--no, dat's all toe de good, hey?"

"So far, yes," said Smart, "but the railroad won't carry them under three hundred dollars, and won't give any guarantee that they'll be delivered on time; won't insure them--in fact, won't do anything but carry them at an exorbitant rate, and they say they must have the goods within one week from the eighth of this month, or upon the fifteenth. Otherwise they won't fill the order, they don't want them. It's now the tenth--that's the rub. How are we going to make good? Shall we trust to the railroad? It never does what it agrees to, and in this case we look like bad ones. That's what's worrying me. What do you say? You're half-partner--it's up to you, Bill."

The big black mate sat looking at the shore for some minutes. His ugly face was wrinkled and his rheumy eyes were puckered in thought, his huge shoulders hunching up, and giving him the air of one who has struck a problem too great to solve. Finally he spoke.

"Jule will be along on the morning boat," said he solemnly.

"Who is Jule?" asked Smart.

"Jule? Why, I thought you knew, cap--why, Jule is my wife. 'Fightin' Jule' deys calls her, an' I reckon dat's a good name. She got dat letter you wrote, and de money I sent from de diving at de gold plant. She dun heard ob dat gold plant, an' she's comin' on up. She'll be here in about an hour."

"You think she can give us good advice--is that it?" suggested Smart, eying the big mate keenly.

"Er--er--dat ain't exactly what I was thinkin'--no, sah, cap," said Bahama Bill, with a sickly grin.

"I'm not a mind-reader, Bill," said Smart.

"Well, sah, cap--seein' as it's you, well, sah--er--er--well, I don't know but what we better make de run toe Noo York ourselves. Or else back toe Key West, an' ketch de Noo York steamer. She kin make de run in three days; dat'll do de trick, hey?"

"Has your wife brought her children with her?" asked Smart.

"Oh, no, cap, she always leaves dem with her ma when she starts off on de rampage----"

"I see; you're afraid of her," said Smart, smiling.

"Not eggzactly dat, cap; not eggzactly--I ain't afeared ob nothin'; no, sah, dat I ain't, but she shuah do make me nervous; she shuah do make me feel--well, I jest don't know how, but it'll be best fo' you--fo' you, cap--if we start fo' Noo York before she gits here. Yo' understand?"

Captain Smart thought a moment. He had heard of Bahama Bill's wife, the well but not favourably known "Fighting Jule," of Key West. On the whole, it was worth considering. They might make the run in five or six days. It had been done before, but not often. The _Sea-Horse_ was an able sloop, but that was testing her too much. The great six-masters had made the run to Havana in five days, two hundred miles farther on, but they seldom did it in ten. It was a great risk; a risk which might end up in the loss of the entire consignment, for they might not be able to get another chance for a sale.

On the other hand, there was _Key West_, the New York steamer, which would be due the next morning, and she would take the freight at proper prices, and be sure to land it in town--she couldn't help it, making the run North in three days to a certainty. The Key West run seemed to be the best one, but there were certain other considerations which had to be thought of.

"How about Key West?" asked Smart. "Do you think we could run in after that fracas at Journegan's bar? Won't the police want us pretty bad if they think they can shake us down for a thousand dollars?"

"I shuah think dey will dat," assented the mate, "if dey think we got anything. Dey certainly trim de folks right smart down dere. I reckon you're right, 'tain't no place fo' us wid a cargo of ca'tridges. I reckon you're wise; I reckon we'd better be gittin' farther No'th."

"There's the New York ship from Jacksonville--how's that?" asked Smart. "We can make that run in two days with a good wind----"

"Git de mainsail on her--Sam, Heldron--lay aft, yo fellers," said Bahama Bill, springing to action. "We'll catch de Saturday ship, an' git de stuff in town in plenty o' time--dat's de lay--Jacksonville--an' dere's de smoke o' de _Key West_ comin' up de Hawk's Channel--see him?" And he pointed to the southward.

"I'll go ashore and get my clothes. They're at the Chinese laundry," said Smart, jumping into the small boat.

"Yo' want toe hurry up--we ain't got no time toe lose. Git my shirts, too, cap. I dun left 'em with de Chink las' week--an' git a five-poun' ham on de way back, we'll need a bit o' grub----"

Smart was already rowing briskly toward the shore, where he landed and made his way rapidly up the street. Wah Lee, the Chinaman who ran the laundry, stood within his doorway and gazed with mild amazement at the unwonted gait of the seaman. Fast walking was not the habit of the Florida cracker, and to see a man sprint along at Smart's gait aroused the suspicion that he was either making a "getaway" from some one or something, or was bent upon most important business.

"He allee samee good mans," said Wah Lee, to one of his numerous brothers ironing a shirt. "Wachee mee skinee him--allee samee bunk. Him sailor fell! Him gotee mon, mon, mon. Me con mans, allee samee bunk. Ha! ha! You see."

Smart stepped into the shanty with a brisk step.

"Get the clothes up, John. Get 'em tied fast right away--all, Bahama Bill's and mine both--hurry, you savvy? Hurry." And the sailor handed over his slip.

"You go to sea to-day?" asked the active Lee, scurrying around behind his counter and trying to match the slip of paper with its strange characters to one of the many bundles already tied fast with white twine, and laid carefully upon the shelves along the walls.

"Yes; sail in a minute--hurry up. Got to get to sea before the steamer gets in----"

"Ah! Allee same good--you take him. Two dolla' fiftee cent."

"What! For just three shirts and two ducks? You are a robber."

"Two dolla' fiftee cent, allee right--you pay him--no shirt, no pay him," said the usurious Lee, lowering truculently at the skipper. One of his brothers sniggered.

When a Celestial sniggers at a white man it is bad. Especially if the white man happens to be a sailor--and in a hurry. Just what makes the Easterner an inferior is not quite definite, not quite clear to the socialistic mind, but that he is inferior is generally conceded--among white men. Among the Orientals there is a quite different opinion based upon their point of view, which, when discussed from its ethical standpoint, is not illogical or unreasonable. Sailors seldom are analytical, seldom go into the reason of things; they are content to accept them as they are, or as they appear to be. Therefore, Smart was much wroth at the sniggering Chink, the more so because he knew he was being cheated by Wah Lee in his wash bill.

But Wah Lee was a hatchetman. He was a leader of the Hip Sing Tong, and a very bad Chinese to fool with. He was in Florida only for his health, not for gain; and the fact that gain came his way was incidental. He took advantage of it. His little ratlike eyes glinted strangely as he spoke his soft sing-song speech.

"Two dolla' fiftee cent--no shirt, no pay--you savvy?" he drawled.

"Come, come, John, be quick about it, and don't put up any foolishness--I haven't time to play this morning," said Smart quickly. "Get the clothes or I'll wade in and take charge of some of those on the shelves."

"You pay two dolla' fiftee cent--you no' pay right off you pay tlee dolla' slixty cent," sang Mr. Wah Lee, his eyes still narrowing, and his hands feeling softly in among his sleeves, where he kept his weapons; "I no time to foolish mans."

"You're on the 'bunk,' then," said Smart; "is that it?"

"Two dolla' fiftee cent, or----"

His answer was quickly given. Smart swung for his jaw, and landed full upon the Oriental chin. Wah Lee went to the floor with a crash, bringing down an ironing-board with him; the flat-irons, clothes, and other gear rolling in a mess. He drew a huge, blue-barrelled gun from his sleeve, and, while he lay supine, levelled it at the sailor. Smart missed getting the shot by a hair, and managed to land a kick upon Lee's pistol-arm before the furious Chink could fire, whereupon not less than four powerful hatchetmen, trained athletes from the Orient, sprang upon him at once.

The seaman was dumfounded at the assault. A Chink was beneath contempt, and to find oneself beset by several powerful Orientals, who were more than his match, was simply heart-breaking, pride-destroying. He swung right and left, furiously clinched, and the five of them rolled with a surging smash against the counter, breaking it down in a mass of splinters, sending clothes, boards, and other laundry paraphernalia in all directions.

One of the men let out a shrill yell, and the two not fighting sprang to the doors and slammed them fast. It would not do to let the populace of the town see the fracas. A Chinaman never advertises the fact that he is a fighter, and is never glad to have it found out, especially among Americans. Besides, had not the foreign pig struck down their leader, the most high Wah Lee, and had not the august Lee essayed to kill the pig--was he not doomed?

Yet none of them wished to act as executioner without direct and explicit orders from the chief. This was a poor country to kill a man in, his friends always made such a fuss; and the police with clubs always made it bad, impossible to hide for a very long time. A rope and a neighbouring tree were the usual finishing touches if they failed to find the lost one.

Smart fought with a fury born of broken pride, lost self-esteem. He was degraded, lowered to the level of common Chinks, and he gave short-arm jolts with amazing lifting power begotten of many years' hard hauling upon lines.

With both hands and feet he strove wildly to free himself from the tangle of baggy sleeves, cotton trousers, and yellow arms. The mass of struggling men rolled and surged over the floor. Smart raised himself again and again to his knees, striking, punching, clinching, using elbows, feet, and knees; and the tide of struggling forms flowed across the room, demolishing everything in its path.

Wah Lee tried in vain to use his gun, and a fellow ruffian tried to strike with the deadly little hatchet used for such occasions, but ever and again the pile of struggling arms, legs, and bodies prevented. The noise of the struggle was drowned in the shrill curses of the contestants, while the sailor fought silently like a bulldog, gripping, smashing, kicking, and flinging the mass about in the vain hope to throw them off enough to get in a full arm-stroke from his fists. If he could but strike a full swing once or twice he felt sure of the outcome, for a Chinaman will seldom stand to a full-arm stroke upon the jaw.

Wah Lee, seeing that to shoot was to endanger his men, dropped his gun into his cash-drawer, and fell foul of the bunch to try to do his share in overcoming the foreign pig. His remaining followers seeing him, flung themselves into the pile, and the mass of men was increased.

Smart began to feel the extra weight of numbers. He was growing tired, and, in spite of his excellent wind, was panting hoarsely, his breathing hampered considerably by gripping fingers he was forced to tear time and again from his throat. He raised himself to his knee for the last giant effort. His heart was breaking. He smashed wildly, furiously; plunged, bucked, threw himself about, twisting, turning, striving with the last remnant of his dying strength. Then he gradually gave way, growing weaker, fighting slower, sinking gradually down, while the pile of men fastened their grips upon him for the finish. In a few moments he was lying limp, and the panting Celestials rose, one after the other, to their feet, while Wah Lee passed a line about the sailor's arms and legs, making him secure.

It had been a most excellent affair; a most magnificent affray worthy of a sailor striving for his rights; and Wah Lee gazed with narrowing eye at the form while he panted out his losses to the surrounding brothers of his Tong. The entire front of the laundry was swept bare, the ironing-boards smashed, the clothes in masses of rags; bundles and papers rolled and mixed in confusion. Flat-irons, holders, chairs, and shelves arranged themselves in piles as though an earthquake had swept through the place; and, while Lee looked sadly at the wreck, he murmured: "Two dolla' fiftee cent."

It had been a bad business for the Chinaman. He had made another mistake, but he would wreak his vengeance at will now upon the helpless Smart. Hot irons, melted lead, and quicklime were some of the items running through his furious mind, and just when and how he would use them upon his victim. He would have to wait to see if the white pig had many friends, who might make a thorough search, but sailors, as a rule, had no friends at all; they were soon forgotten--then he would go to work.

In the meantime he would place the seaman where the mosquitoes would not trouble him, after first relieving him of any unnecessary valuables he might have upon his despicable person.

Into a filthy den he carried the now insensible Smart, casting him into a foul bunk, which had been used by a smoker of the drug common to the Chinese coolie, and carefully covering him, so that no one would notice the form even should the retreat be discovered. Then he set about with his helpers to straighten up the shop.

PART II

During the period of time Smart spent in serious argument with the august Lee, Bahama Bill fretted and fumed about the deck of the wrecking-sloop, _Sea-Horse_. Sam and Heldron both came in for a dressing, and both narrowly escaped getting a morning bath, for the big black mate was in a passion at the delay. The steamer from Key West came to the dock, and a form--the unmistakable form of "Fightin' Jule"--stepped ashore, and moved with no uncertain stride in the direction of the _Sea-Horse_.

Bahama Bill grunted forth anathemas, and sprang into the small boat to gain the wharf before his spouse could intercept him. He felt there might be something doing. When he arrived at the landing he looked up, and gazed right into the eyes of his partner.

"Huccum yo' toe git heah, Jule?" asked Bahama Bill.

"I come wid de boat, shuah, nigger. How yo' think I come--swim? I come toe see just what yo' doin'; why yo' don't come home. I knows yo', Bill, yo' been runnin' wid some trashy nigger gal up heah----"

"It ain't so, Jule----"

"Don't yo' contradict me, nigger. I _knows_ you. You ain't sent me all dat money fer nothin'; yo' ain't done it fo' no reason 'cept toe try toe make me think yo' keers fo' me. Don't yo' make me mad."

"But, Jule, I got ter git toe sea right away. I ain't done nothin' but gib up de dough fast as I makes it. Got a cargo ob ca'tridges now abo'd, an' got toe git dem No'th right away. I jest come heah toe see you an' git de partner I got in de deal. I sho' nuff glad toe see yo', Jule."

"Don' yo' gib me none o' yo' foolishness, Bill. I knows yo'. I tells yo' I _knows_ yo', an' I'll set right heah tel yo' gits de partner an' gits ready toe go abo'd dat sloop--I wants to see de kind o' partner yo' has. Don' talk toe me. Ef I wasn't a lady, I'd knock yo' blame' haid off. Gwan!"

Bahama Bill was much disturbed, and he went up the street in no pleasant frame of mind. His wife he knew would stay right in sight of the sloop until the sloop sailed, and the indications were she'd want to go along with him. It was very disturbing to a man of the mate's temperament. He went along as a man much occupied with his thoughts, and looked neither to the right nor left until he reached the main street. Here he met a sailor from a yacht lying in the harbour, and he asked him if he had seen anything of Smart.

"Yo' knows a yacht feller when yo' see him, I reckon; have yo' seen dat Cap'n Smart?" he said.

"I saw your captain going toward the laundry about an hour ago," said the sailor.

Bahama Bill went into a saloon and took a drink. Where could Smart have gone, except on a drunk, after going to the laundry. He eyed the barkeeper sourly, and asked him if he had seen his sailor partner.

"Sure," said the man of drinks, handing out a square-faced bottle and a glass. "He stopped over across the way to the Chink's--heard something of a fracas going on over in that direction--shouldn't wonder if he beat up the heathen, only that Wah Lee is a corker; a sure winner for a yaller skin."

"What yo' mean?" asked Bill.

"I means that the Chink is a scrapper--kin do 'em up; carries a Gatling gun in his sleeve. He's only here for a few months in the winter. Belongs to the Hip Sing Tong, or some secret society in New York. He's something like Fat Duck, or Bill Puck, or some sech Chink I reads of in th' papers what does up whole theatres full o' them yaller bellies."

"Gimme another drink," said Bahama Bill, meditatively gazing into his empty glass. "It ain't likely Cap'n Smart stayed wid no Chinks, but I goes over dere an' takes a peek, jest fer luck, sah. I shuah ain't got nothing agin' no Chink, but I reckon I makes de yaller boy tell what he knows." And as he finished the gin, he put the glass down carefully and strode forth.

He walked to the door of the laundry, and looked in where the men were now hard at work again ironing, their outfit temporarily repaired, and business going ahead as usual.

Bill looked at the place for a moment, and his trained eye saw marks of combat still upon the walls and shelves, which showed in spite of the new arrangements made.

"Seen a friend ob mine, a sailor man?" asked the mate, peering into the door.

"No see no ones--heap workee, velly busy," replied Wah Lee.

Bahama Bill entered and stuck forth his big, ugly head right close to the Chinaman's.

"You tell me where Cap'n Smart went after cleaning yo' place up, yo' heah?" he said menacingly.

The memory of the fracas was heavy upon Wah Lee. He backed away and drew his big, blue-barrelled gun.

"You getee 'way velly quick--see?" he said fiercely.

Bahama Bill reached over like lightning and grasped a Chinaman by the slack of his pigtail, jerking him in front of himself, and seizing him with his left hand, to keep him in place. An iron lay handy, and instantly it was sailing straight for the head of the belligerent Lee.

It caught him full in the neck, propelled with the power of the giant mate's arm, and the Chinaman spun clear across the room, landing limp and insensible.

The big gun failed to explode, and went clattering upon the floor. Instantly Bill sprang for it, and seized its barrel just as a powerful heathen grabbed it by the stock. The mate wrenched it free with a quick jerk, and struck the fellow twice upon the top of his shaved head. Then the whole crowd piled upon him, swarmed up against him, grasping, clinging, gripping for his throat, while a hatchetman made a pass with his weapon, which reached the black man's skull.

Bahama Bill was tough and hard, his head was thick of bone, and, although the hatchet struck him hard enough to kill an ordinary man, the blade glanced off, and cut only a big gash in his scalp. The stars danced before his eyes, and he staggered for an instant, and in that instant the whole gang closed upon him. Then the realization of his predicament dawned upon him, and he let forth a mighty yell, tore loose from the strangling holds upon his neck, and then smashed right into the crowd with the fury of a wounded tiger, the blood from his head pouring over him.

There was a wild mixture of huge black arms, flying forms of pajamaed Chinamen going through the air, and with yell after yell he grabbed and smashed the first that came in his path, tearing up the whole place with the struggle.

He seized an ironing-board and swung it about his head, yelling hoarsely. Then he struck right and left with it, knocking Chinese, gear, and clothes indiscriminately about the room, until there was not the slightest movement to denote life anywhere but in his own mighty frame.

Upon the floor the forms lay about--smashed, stunned, insensible. Then his fury abating, he stopped for a moment to gaze through the haze of blood and dust of conflict. He grinned hideously at the sight, his wound making him grotesquely horrible. Then he was suddenly taken with an idea.

He grasped the cue of a Chink and drew it across the room to that of another, making them fast with a bend. Then he dragged the rest, the whole six, and fastened them to Wah Lee's cue. It made a pile of Chinese aggregating about a thousand pounds in dead weight; and he scanned the mass to contemplate. As he stopped, he was aware of a sound in the partition. He listened for a moment, and thought he heard his name called in a low voice--a voice which sounded far away and indistinct. He roared out a reply, and listened again. Yes, it was the voice of Captain Smart.

The captain was begging him to hurry and get him out of somewhere, and the mate roared out in reply:

"Where is yo'? Where is yo'? How I get thar?" And he ran along the partition, trying to discover a door or other opening. Nothing showed, and, losing patience, he caught up an iron and began smashing the planks. In a few minutes he had broken through into a dark recess, into which he crawled without delay. Something smote him heavily upon the head, and he fell sprawling, lying helpless and half-insensible, while a shrill voice cried out in defiance.

* * * * *

Bahama Bill lay dazed and dizzy for a long time; probably ten minutes. Then he was aware of Smart's voice cursing furiously and calling for help. The huge mate slowly gathered himself, managed to rise to his knees, and, as he did so, the light which now shone through the gap in the partition showed him a slight girl standing over him with an axe. She had evidently struck him as he came through the bulkhead, and only her youth and frailness had prevented the blow from finishing him. He now saw she was about to repeat the operation, and he quickly snatched the weapon from her, and drew her to him.

"What fo' yo' hit me?" he asked, angrily.

"You velly bad mans--go away!" screamed the child.

Bill searched the surrounding gloom with a quick, comprehensive glance, and noticed a form lying in a bunk covered with a cloth. He made his way to it, and uncovered the prostrate form of Smart, securely bound, but not securely gagged. The sailor could only use his tongue, but he did use that member to its fullest extent, while he told quickly of the way he had run up against Wah Lee. Then the sight of Bahama Bill's head caught his gaze, and he made a wry face. The giant mate was like a black fury with his marks of combat upon him.

"This child is a wife of that rascal," said Smart, explaining the little girl's presence in such a place. "She's about twelve years old, and his property--his slave, I suppose you would call it. He keeps her in here, where no one can ever see her, and she thought you were some fellow going to harm her when she struck you with the axe. I tried to tell you as you came through, but couldn't make you hear--that's better, now cut loose my feet." And the mate passed his knife through the cords, setting him free.

"I sho' feel some ashamed toe think yo' dun up by dese Chinks," said Bill, as Smart rose from the filthy bunk. "Yo' ain't much hurt?"

"Not hurt at all--not like you," said Smart impatiently.

"Dat clip was jest accident--shuah, shuah. Dey ain't hurt me none toe speak of--only a little blood. But dat kid gal cum near killin' me wid dat axe. I ain't quite through yet. Come along into the room where dey lays."

They took the child with them, and crawled through the bulkhead. One of the wounded men upon the floor had recovered his senses, and was busily at work trying to loosen his cue as Bahama Bill stepped up. A jolt with his foot stopped operations for the time, and Smart stood contemplating the victory.

"What'll we do about it?" asked the yachtsman.

"Do? I jest reckon we'll take de whole bunch abo'd de ship. We'll need some extra hands toe make de passage quick. We got toe git a move on, fo' we got the git dat stuff up toe catch de steamer at Jacksonville. Dere's a cyart right in dat co'ner, sah. Help me pile 'em in."

Smart, still furious from the treatment he had received, lent a willing hand, and in a few minutes they had the whole bunch of Celestials dumped in the cart and made secure.

"What'll we do wif dat little gal?" asked Bill, eying the child. "She ain't all Chink, by de looks; reckon she's a half-breed."

"We'll have to take her with us," said Smart, and so they started out of the shop, pushing the cart with the Chinese before them; and they attracted no attention for some minutes, for the affrays had been little noticed, as there had been no gun-fire.

"Hold on, let's get the clothes," said Smart, running back into the doorway and grabbing what bundles he could reach handily, and which had still been left intact from the whirlwind passage of the giant mate. He tossed them into the cart, and they went rapidly down to the dock.

Some small boys and one or two loafers followed, wishing to see the fun, but no one molested them or inquired their purpose. They reached the water-side without mishap. Fighting Jule was sitting there waiting for her lord to show up, and she was in anything but a sweet humour. The sight of the little Chinese girl made her alter her purpose to assault her huge partner, and she inquired briskly into details.

"Yo' take de kid an' keep her till we git de crew abo'd," said Bill, with the first approach at gentleness in his voice.

Jule took the child. She was motherly, matronly, and affectionate, though a fighter. Her own progeny were safe at Key West, and this little yellow girl, this Chinese, appealed to her curiosity and motherhood alike. She gathered her in her arms and looked her over in wonder, while the men lowered their victims into the small boat.

"Huccum yo' toe be wif dem Chinks--is yo' de little pickaninny ob dat Wah Lee man?" she asked.

"Me Wah Lee's wife," said the child, crying.

"Yo' stop tellin' me lies, lil' gal; yo' ain't nothin' but a baby."

"Me Wah Lee's wife. He bought me last moon. Velly bad mans takee Wah Lee away; velly bad mans takee me." The child spoke remarkably well for a Chinese.

A crowd of loafers had now been attracted by the unusual proceedings, and, in spite of the apathy of the Florida cracker, they managed to excite some wonder as to what the men of the _Sea-Horse_ were about. In less time than it takes to tell it, Bahama Bill and Smart had the Mongolians aboard, where Sam and Heldron were instructed to look after them, and see that they went to work as soon as they were recovered sufficiently to do duty.

"Ef yo' boys don't want toe work dis trip, yo' kin make de Chinks work fo' yo'. Dey owes us a bit ob work. Break out dat hook an' git dat jib on her."

In less than five minutes the _Sea-Horse_ was standing down the channel out to sea, Sam and Heldron lost in amazement at the turn of affairs. Some of the loafers on the dock shouted out something, but they made no reply, and in a few minutes were beyond hailing.

"De boat leaves fo' home at six--I reckon you'll hab toe cum wif me," said Jule, leading the little girl away and gazing angrily after the _Sea-Horse_. "Ef I wasn't a lady I'd shuah knock dat coon in de haid," she added. "I dun paid er dollar an' a half fo' toe git heah, an' now I got toe go home--cum."

* * * * *

"I reckon I'll change mah clothes en clean up er bit," said the mate, after they rounded the point and stood away northward.

"So will I," said Smart. "Better open up the clothes I brought and get some clean ones."

Several of the shanghaied men were now able to get about, and Sam took them in charge. Wah Lee gazed about him dizzily, but made no comment. Heldron had passed his knife through his cue, cutting it off close to his head, in order to loose him from the bunch. He looked angrily at the sailor, and felt his strange-looking pate with a rueful hand.