Chapter IV: Front Matter (4)

She was the largest ship of the fleet--which comprised ten good steamers--and she was fitted with all the modern conveniences, from telephones to wireless, had a swimming pool, barber shop, gymnasium, café, and elevators to the hurricane deck.

With only four watch officers, and six cadets, who were about as useful as a false keel on a trunk, I had enough to do before clearing.

The chief engineer was an American, for a wonder, and his six assistants, including donkey man, were Liverpool cockneys. They drove a swarm of fire rats and coal passers that would have made a seaman crazy in two days, but Smith took things easy below, and, although he had to push her to keep the new record, he let his assistants do the heavy work. That's the reason he grew so fat--grew fat and even-tempered, while poor Small and myself sweated out our lives after the usual routine.

We had forty men in the crew, and needed more, for we often had a thousand emigrants in the steerage. Sometimes we carried bunches of those big chaps from the European forests, Lithuanians, strong, sturdy brutes, totally without sense.

It was in December that we took over five hundred of them on board, and while I was polite as possible, I put Small wise to keep a lookout on the critters. They were miners, for the most part. Contract men, going to the mines in Pennsylvania.

By some means a quantity of their baggage got below with that of the cabin passengers. We had a lot of cabin folks that voyage. There was a bunch of actors, men and women you hear at the opera, drummers galore, buyers who were coming home from the fall trading, several millionaires; and, among the society or upper-strata people, the ones without occupation to give them distinction, were the Lady Amadoun and her following.

Lady Amadoun was American born, but French by adoption, or, rather, marriage, preferring in her youth the suave manners of older generations to the rougher ones of her own countrymen. Raoul, Vicomte Amadoun, her husband, had not turned out the soft and gentle creature he appeared before marriage. In fact, he had followed the usual time-worn game of demanding money at unusual crises, which, as you know, has a tendency to make intelligent women think twice before coming across with it. The Vicomtesse Amadoun, or countess, as they called her, was young; in fact, looked hardly twenty-five--but, of course, a countess has maids to fix her up a bit!

You see, being first officer, and sitting at the head of my own table in the saloon, the countess came under my observation more than I intended. Old Hall had his own cronies, who sat with him, and Driggs, the steward, gave the most prominent passenger my right-hand seat--sort of compliment. Driggs was a good steward, and owed his place to my exertions in his behalf.

It was about this confounded baggage that I had a chance to further acquaint myself with nobility, for the trunks of the countess--and she had about fifty, including those of her friends who came with her--got mixed with the stuff that the baggage-master had sent by mistake to the first-class baggage room--the unlovely dunnage of the human moles who were roosting low in the steerage, and paying two pounds sterling a head for the privilege.

"I would take it as a great favor if you would allow me to get into my baggage by to-morrow at the latest," said the countess, beaming upon me from the adjacent seat at my table at dinner that day. "You see, we've been all over Europe, and while traveling through Russia I picked up some very pretty furs, which will be nice to use on deck during this cool sea weather."

"Madam," said I, "I shall be at your service right after eight bells to-morrow, when I leave the bridge." So I warned the baggage man, below, to have the place cleaned out a mite, so that her ladyship could go below without getting her frock spoiled from contact with the steerage passengers or their belongings.

To be sure that he would do my bidding--he belonged to the purser's force--I went below that morning, and looked the baggage over myself. I passed in through the steerage, and noted the men stowed there. Two big brutes of Lithuanians sat upon their dunnage, and jabbered in their language.

"Hike!" I said abruptly to the pair. "Git away from the baggage, and let the trunk slingers dig up."

"Oh, Mister Mate, Mister Chief, we have our trunks here, also, and want to get to them," answered one fellow in fairly good lingo.

"Beat it!" I ordered. "Make a get-away as quick as you can. Only first-class passengers can take their baggage out, or get a look-in. Why, you lubber, if every one of you steerage rats wanted to get into your trunks, it would take about fifteen hundred stewards and baggage men to take care of you."

"But it is of great importance that we see our things--there are some things in my trunk I must get at, some important things----"

"Try and fergit them until next Wednesday, when they can be dumped on Ellis Island; nuff sed--no more lingo--beat it!"

The pair went away in very ugly humor, and I started the work of clearing that baggage room of their dunnage, and trying to select the trunks of the countess from the raffle. I managed to get about twenty of them, and let it go at that.

The next day I took the countess below, and personally showed her over the trunks. She was accompanied by the count and her maid.

"Now, Marie, which trunk was it in, _ma chère_? You must remember it very well," she said, looking at the mass of baggage.

"_Mais oui_, it must be that grand affaire--that beeg one--see!" And the maid pointed to an immense Saratoga trunk, big enough to hold the clothes of a full man-o'-war's crew.

The baggage master and I pulled the trunk out of the ruck, and the count produced a bunch of keys.

I sauntered over to the other side of the room, where the gratings separated the steerage from the rest. The two fellows I saw there yesterday were watching through the slats, and did not notice me.

"_Deux cent_," said one, in a whisper.

"Whew, _mon Dieu_----"

I knew that there was something about two hundred, but just what I couldn't quite log. My lingo goes mostly to Spanish and Chink, having sailed to those countries.

The countess asked me to move the big trunk to the side of the ship. I did so without seeing the reason for the extra work, but the lady was gracious, and there was really no reason for not doing it. Two other trunks were opened, and the furs brought out. Then the lady went on deck again, after thanking me most profusely. Raoul was more reticent. He was not the tongue-lashing Frenchman he looked. He seemed preoccupied; but all very rich and powerful men seem that way to me, and after all I was but the chief officer. Perhaps the skipper would have drawn him out more.

Nothing happened until we were within sight of the Nantucket Shoals lightship. That night the countess and her husband were on deck, and, the air being cool, they were well wrapped in furs. I watched them from the bridge. They kept well forward, near the starboard forward lifeboat. That was my boat under the drill orders, and I remembered it afterward.

It was about two bells--nine o'clock in the evening--when there was a most terrific roar from below. The ship shook as though torn asunder. As I gazed aft, the deck seemed to rise and blow outboard. Something struck me heavily, and I was down and out for a few minutes. When I arose with ringing ears, I looked aft again, hardly realizing that I was awake and not dreaming. The siren was roaring full blast, and a throng of men and women were rushing forward toward the bridge. Old Hall came out of his room half dressed, and ran to me.

"What is it--what's happened?" he yelled in my ear.

"Don't know," I howled, and even then I didn't believe I was awake.

The chief engineer ran up.

"Starboard engine room full, sir--something blowed up below--whole side gone above water line--won't float ten minutes," he howled.

"For God's sake, shut off that siren, then!" yelled old man Hall. Then, turning to me, he ordered: "Stand by the boats, and get the passengers out."

In a few minutes the roar of the steam stopped. Hall stood calmly upon the bridge, and gave the orders for the small boats, and away they went one after the other. The wireless was sending its call for help, but there was no time for us to listen to replies; we had plenty to do.

The _Prince Gregory_ settled slowly by the stern, and raised her bows high in the air. There she stopped, and, for a wonder, did not fall from under us.

"Get into the boat, quick!" I said to the countess, and she sprang with amazing ease into the stern, followed by her husband and the maid.

"Nix on the men!" I yelled, and grabbed the count. "Come out--women first," and I dragged him from the boat with no show of deference. He struck me savagely in the face, and I stretched him out with the boat's tiller. Seamen tossed him aside, and the swarm of women crowded up and into the craft while I held the men back as best I could.

I knew it was to be a close haul. Seven hundred men and women, and only twenty boats! The life rafts would be doing duty pretty soon, and no mistake.

I saw very little of the fracas around me, as one never does see much if he is tending to his own business, and mine at that time was getting forty-five women into a small boat, many of them in before she was lowered away.

Luckily there was no sea running at all. It was calm and foggy, the water like black oil.

I slid down the falls, and when we loaded up I took command at the tiller, and went out a little distance to clear the wreck in case of trouble. We lay at rest a hundred fathoms distant, and watched the scuffle aboard. Men yelled like mad, screamed, and fought. I caught the flash of a gun, and heard the report. I knew Hall would not stand for lawless rushing the boats, and was doing some fierce work. Pretty soon the outcry died away more and more, and still the black hull showed plainly, her bow still pointing skyward, and her stern submerged.

"God's blessing, there's no wind or sea!" I said to Driscoll, my stroke oarsman.

"You're right there, cap," said he. "What wus ut anyway?"

"Blessed if I knew--she's just blowed up, whole stern gone out of her. She can't float two hours, and there'll be no one out here before daybreak if they do get the signal."

"You brute!" exclaimed the countess, who was sitting close to me. "Why didn't you let my husband come in this boat?"

"If he was a man, he wouldn't have wanted to," I snapped, hot at the insult.

"I notice _you_ are here, all right, you ruffian!" she retorted, sneering. "What do you call yourself?"

I thought best not to answer her. Words with women are generally wasted, and the woman always gets the last one, anyhow. The countess had always been so courteous and gentle that I supposed the excitement had turned her head; and then, after all, I had treated her husband a bit rough. He was a gentleman, and I was only a mate. That made a difference in her point of view, although I can't say it did so much in my own.

I talked to Driscoll, and watched the _Prince Gregory_ as she lay there in the oily sea. Boats came and went toward the light vessel, and, thinking it would be a good thing to get rid of my cargo, I trailed off after the bunch, and was soon alongside the lightship.

As fast as we could, we sent the women aboard, finding that the little ship would hold hundreds of passengers, in spite of her diminutive size. Inside of half an hour, she had fully five hundred people in her, and was jammed to the rails, below and on deck. Still, it was better than an open boat, and I kept bringing them by scores, until there were no more, save a few boatloads, and these we kept afloat in the lifeboats.

During this time I thought little, or not at all, about the count. The ship still hung by her after bulkhead, and Lord knows the man who set it in her deserves praise enough. How it stood that strain is a wonder to this day. If there had been any sea running she would have gone down like a stone, for no unbraced cross-section of a ship can stand the surge of ten thousand tons in a seaway. It must have burst like blotting paper when wetted down. With ten men--all second-class passengers--in my boat besides the crew, I went back to the ship for the last time, and watched old man Hall as he stood upon the bridge. I could just make him out through the hazy gloom of the night, but I could hear his voice distinctly, as he gave orders to the few men who stayed with him.

"Do you want any more help, sir?" I asked, coming alongside.

"What's that--you, Jack?" he answered. "No, I reckon not. She'll hang on for hours, if the weather remains calm like this. All the passengers safe?"

"All aboard the lightship, or hanging to her by painters--there's a line of boats half a mile long trailing on behind her, and they're safe enough, as they can't get lost as long as they hold to her. Tide runs hard here on the edge of the Stream, but her wireless is going right along, and she says two cutters left Boston half an hour ago, under full steam--ought to be here before late in the morning, anyway. Never lost a man, hey?"

"No," says he, "not that I know of; and that's some remarkable, too."

I thought it was, also, but said nothing more for a few moments, watching the half-sunken hull slowly rolling from side to side in the smooth swell.

While I watched I saw the form of a man coming from aft, along the rail of the main deck, which was just awash. As every one had left the after part of the ship and the engine room abandoned, I thought this strange, and watched the figure until it came almost amidships. Then it disappeared in the cabin.

"More men aft, sir?" I asked Hall, who still stood leaning upon the bridge rail, waiting for help.

"No, no one left aboard--just Jenkins and his crew of four men--myself, that's all." Jenkins was carpenter.

"Saw a man coming from aft, sir--must be some passenger overlooked. Shall I jump up, and see to him?"

"All right," came the response, and almost before he spoke the men who waited on their oars shoved the boat astern until she was almost level with the sunken deck. I sprang out of her, and sung to them to lie by and keep clear of the captain's boat, which lay alongside, just forward of us, waiting until the old man found it necessary to leave.

I made my way in through the passageway to the saloon, and found the deck still clear of water, although the sucking roar and surge of the sea beneath told of the immense volume in the lower decks. The lights had long gone out, with the drowning of the dynamos, and I felt for a cabin door, intending to grab one of the emergency candles which are always in place on the bulkheads.

I found one, and struck a light; then made my way along the passage in front of the lower staterooms, calling at intervals for any one who might be near and unable to realize the peril of a foundering ship. I admit it was some ticklish. I had my hair raised more than once when the ship took a more than usually heavy roll, and the rushing thunders below started with renewed force. What if she should drop? It was a bad thought, and not tending to still my pulse. I couldn't help thinking of the thousand fathoms or so of blue sea beneath my feet----

I thought I heard a footstep crossing the passage in front of me. It is strange how, above the general thunder of rushing water, a slight sound makes itself evident. It was like standing upon the shore during the running of a heavy surf. One can almost talk in a whisper while the thunder reverberates along the coast.

A shadow crossed in front of me, and I hailed again. It was a man, and he was coming from below, from the sunken lower decks. He came up the staircase of the lower saloon, and darted along the passageway to port.

"Hey, there! Stop!" I yelled.

The man turned, and in an instant I recognized him. It was the Vicomte Raoul.

He eyed me with a savage look, and waited for me to come up.

"What ees it you want?" he growled.

"Just you!" I told him. "Don't you know you are in danger of getting killed down here?"

"And how does that matter interest you?" he retorted, with those shrugging shoulders and arched eyebrows he could handle so well.

"It don't, except that, as I'm an officer, it's my duty to see you leave the ship under orders of the captain."

"I noticed you were not so queek to have me leave dees sheep when I first started," he sneered, "and eef I go back for my jewels, my valuables, eet ees no affaire of yours--eh?"

"It is only to the extent that I must see you off the vessel," I said.

We were standing near the after companionway, and I noticed the splintered planking, where the force of the explosion had blown it upward. It was directly over the baggage room, where the trunks were stowed below. This was now under six to ten feet of clear water.

"If you want to get into your trunks, you will have to be a good diver," I said. "There's no chance in the world of getting below here--she's flooded full to the after bulkheads number four in the wake of the starboard engines. You couldn't do a thing below if you got there."

In a more courteous tone, the count explained:

"Eet is a matter of small valuables in my room, not my trunk. Go along like a good fellow, and I will follow instantly. I just go below to my room--I come with you instantly--go!"

"Well, I'll wait here if it don't take too long," I said. "It's against orders, and if anything happens to you I'll get it, all right. Hurry up, and beat it back--the boat's waiting, and the ship'll drop any minute. It's only that number four bulkhead holding her."

"Ah, yes, dat number four! Eet ees just at my stateroom door, zat number four you call heem. Wait, my good fellow, I come immediate," and he went down the companionway, which was knee-deep at the bottom in sea water.

He splashed through the shallow wash, and disappeared along the gloomy passage, where the candlelight failed. I stood above and waited, holding my breath at times, and cursing the luck that made me weak enough to allow him to do such a foolish thing as go below for valuables. However, I had treated him pretty rough at the first getaway, and felt he had a right to some consideration.

Suddenly I remembered that his stateroom was not below on that main deck! It seemed to me he had rooms forward and above; but the excitement had caused me to forget this detail, and I was so taken up, even at the time, that I only remembered it in a half-dazed way. What did he want below, then?

I waited, and the minutes flew by, seeming long enough. The candle ran its hot grease down upon my hand, and burned it. I was getting sore and impatient at the wait. If anything happened, I could never be given a reprimand, for I would never show up to receive it. The ship would go down and take me with her, all right enough. I hadn't a chance in the world--and I was waiting there for a count, a man who had sprung into the mate's boat to get clear, when there were hundreds of women waiting and screaming to go!

There was a sharp explosion from below. The ship shook a little, and rolled to port.

"Just Heaven! Did that bulkhead go?"

A form tore down the passageway, splashed through the water at the foot of the companion, and was upon me in an instant. Raoul struck me fairly between the eyes, and I went down to sleep--that was all I remember of the inside of the _Prince Gregory_, as she lay foundering off the Shoals.

When I came to, I was in the boat, with Driscoll bending over me and pouring sea water upon my head. The dark stain showed me that I was bleeding fast, and the sailor tore off the sleeve of his jumper, and tied it about my forehead. I tried to sit up, but everything swam and rolled about me horribly. Finally I managed to get my head up.

"What's happened?" I asked.

"Bulkhead gave way, sir," he told me. "You was hit on the head by wreckage. I run in after you, an' jest managed to git you clear. She's gone, sir!"

"What! The ship?" I cried.

"Sure, sir."

"And the old man--Jenkins, and the rest of them?"

"All got clear just in time--seems like Jenkins and his gang were at the bulkhead from forrards, trying to shore it up, when _bing!_ she went, and them as was left beat it--all got clear, sir."

"See anything of a passenger--that chap we had a run-in with at the first getaway?" I asked.

"Yes, sir; one man got away in the skipper's boat--that's them headin' for the lightship over there," and he pointed to a blur that showed through the hazy night. I began to gather my senses again, but I couldn't make head or tail of it. What did that fellow nail me for? I had hit him, to be sure; but that was for a purpose. He surely intended to fix me, all right. About a minute more, and I would have gone with the ship.

"Cowardly rat!" I whispered.

"Who?" asked Driscoll.

"That white-livered dog who knocked me out," I said, gritting my teeth at the thought.

"Better lie quiet, sir; better keep still--you're bug a bit, but will be all right to-morrow. Does it hurt you much, sir?"

"Shut up!" I commanded ungratefully, and Driscoll gazed at me sorrowfully, pulling away again at his oar, for we were now almost to the lightship.

All that night we lay trailing astern. There was a long line of lifeboats reaching nearly half a mile back, all hanging to the taffrail of the ship.

About daylight she got in touch with a passing passenger ship, bound in, and while we were busy shifting the hundreds of passengers the cutters showed up, and helped to expedite matters by towing the small boats. Before breakfast time we had all the outfit aboard and away for New York. Hall and myself went aboard the cutter _Eagle_. We waited for several hours, to see if there were anything more to find drifting about, and then away we went for home, thanking the captain of the Nantucket Shoals lightship for what he had done.

"I don't understand it at all--don't seem to be just right," repeated Hall over and over to the captain of the cutter. "She just blew up--that's all there is to it. We had a drove of miners aboard, and you know how hard it is to keep those fellows from carrying explosives in their dunnage. You simply can't stop to search them. There was probably a couple of hundred pounds of blasting powder, at the least--went off like a mine blowing up a battleship. That bulkhead in the wake of the starboard engine room saved us--that's all!"

I was out of a ship. When we got in, the manager laid me off for a month, and then gave me the second greaser's berth on the old _Prince Leander_, a bum ship--and that's a fact. When I reached the other side again, I saw by the papers that a certain Frenchman had tried to collect nearly a million francs on his insurance for cargo and personal belongings in the _Prince Gregory_. It seems that he had shipped tons of expensive machinery and had insured it fully. The stuff was cased tightly, but one case marked for him had broken while being handled on the dock, and nothing but bricks fell out.

The insurance companies held up the claim. I hurried to the consul's office, and told of the episode of the trunk, and how I was hit over the nut by a certain French gentleman during the fracas. The description answered to the man of machinery, and when I told of that last little crack I had heard below, the consul waited not on the order of his going, but ordered a cab and fairly threw me into it. We tore to the office of the underwriters, and I told my tale. Then I began to see the light, at last.

It was the old game tried under a new guise--and it had nearly cost the lives of a half thousand human beings. The horror of it appalled me, and I found myself wondering if I were to be trusted about without a nurse again. However, I was not censured severely. The crook was well known to the police, and since then the police of many countries have been trying to locate a gentleman who answers to the description of the Vicomte Raoul de Amadoun.

CAPTAIN JUNARD

Captain Junard awoke suddenly from a sound sleep. He listened intently for a few moments. The steady vibrations of the ship's engines told of the unchecked motion, the unhindered rush of the ship through the sea. Yet something had awakened him, something had given him a start from a dreamless sleep, the sleep of a tired man. He knew that something was wrong, felt it, and wondered at it, while his heart began to sound the alarm by its increasing pulsations. He wondered if he were sick, had eaten something that might produce nightmare; but he felt very well, and knew he never started at trifles. His hand reached for the revolver at the head of his bunk. He always kept it there for emergencies. It was a heavy forty-five, with a long, blue barrel--a strong weapon that had stood him handily in several affairs aboard the steamer. The light in his room was dim, but there was enough of it to show him that his room was empty. His hand reached the spot where the weapon usually hung, but failed to reach it. He groped softly for several moments. There was nothing upon the bulkhead; the gun was gone.

This fact made a peculiar impression upon him. He felt now that his instinct was correct, that he was indeed in danger. His mind cleared quickly from the stupor of sound sleep, and he remembered. He was carrying papers of peculiar importance in his strong box, or safe--papers relating to a deal in shipping connected with a revolution in a Central American state. A rival line had tried to stop the affair, which grew into political importance when secret agents of the United States tried to find out how deeply it might affect the Panama Canal. The concession had not been granted. The Canal Zone was not yet in existence, and the United States was sure to get it if this deal went through. The president had watched the affair with hungry eyes. Now the papers were in his--Junard's--possession, aboard his ship, bound for the state department in Washington.

Junard started up when he found his hand missing the butt of that revolver. It had been a pleasant fancy to him when he remembered its solid grip and deadly accuracy, a dependable friend in the hours of darkness and distress. Now it was gone, and could not have gone without some one having taken it. If they took it, they took it to keep him from using it. The idea of its loss awakened him more than anything else, and sent his heart beating fast as with sudden quickness and energy he sprang from his bed. There was nothing in his room, nothing at all. The lamp burned low. The electrics had been switched off, as they gave too much light for him to sleep in. Junard stood wondering, studying, and gazing at his safe, which lay bolted to the deck in a corner of his room.

The captain's room was just abaft the pilot house, as is usual in ships of that class. A stairway, or companion, of five steps led to the pilot house, but these were cut flush with his room and into the floor of the house above, so that he could shut the door. The door was shut now as he looked, but the sound of the steering gear told him that the man at the wheel, within a dozen feet of him, was steering and attending apparently to his business. The room ran clear across the superstructure, opening with a door upon either side. To starboard was his bathroom, to port was a closet, which adjoined the room of the chief officer, being separated from it by the bulkhead. Both these rooms led aft and opened into his room by doors in the bulkhead. This made his room a complete section of the superstructure about twelve feet deep and running clear through. There was nothing in it that could hide any one. A table, a couch with leather cushions, several chairs, and a large desk completed the furniture. His bed was a large double bunk let in to port and hung with curtains. It somewhat resembled an old four-poster bed.

Junard walked quickly to the safe. It was locked. He smiled at himself. The absurdity of the thing almost made him laugh. And yet he was as nervous as a ship's cat when watching a strange dog. He opened the door leading to the pilot house. The man in there was standing in regulation pose, with his hands upon the spokes of the steam steering gear. The sudden rattle and clank told Junard the fellow was awake and alert. The dim light from the binnacle made his outline plainly discernible, and Junard recognized him as Swan, a quartermaster of long service and excellent ability.

"How's she heading, Swan?" whispered the captain.

"No'the, two east, sir," said the man, with a slight start. The words had come to him from the gloom behind him, and he had not heard the door open.

"That's right; they haven't reported the Cape yet?"

"No, sir; but that's Cape Maysi, sir, I think," said Swan, pointing to a light that had just begun to show right over the port bow. Eight bells struck off upon the clock in the house as he spoke, and the cry came from forward. The chief mate, who was on watch, came to the pilot-house window, reached in, and took out the night glasses. He adjusted them and gazed at Cape Maysi. Captain Junard watched him narrowly, and noted that he took the bearings and made the remark in his order book. Mr. Jameson was a good officer and a first-class navigator, and Junard did not wish to appear on deck until he was called. It looked as if he did not trust the officer sufficiently. He would wait until the light was reported officially.

When Junard turned to reënter his room, he heard a slight noise. There was a rustle, a whirl, and the door of the room to port clicked to. It had been shut when he jumped from his bunk. He gazed in the direction of the safe, and saw that it was now standing wide open, the door swinging slowly with the motion of the ship. He sprang to the switch and turned on the light, full power.

In front of him was the safe, with the door open. In front of the safe lay a huge knife, and alongside of the knife lay his revolver, fully loaded, and cocked. Whoever had it was ready to use it upon a moment's notice. The intruder had fled at the sound of Junard's steps upon the pilot-house companion.

Junard was a very heavy-set man. He stood but five feet two inches, but was at least three feet across the shoulders, an immense man for his height, his chest being as broad and hairy as a gorilla's. His powerful legs were set wide apart to steady himself to the ship's motion, and for a brief instant he stood there in the full light, clothed in his pajamas. Then, with a roar like that of a bull, he plunged headlong for the lattice door of his room, and, bursting it with a crash, reached the deck in full stride. He just caught sight of what appeared to be a skirt, switching around the corner of the deck house, and he leaped savagely for it. He reached the corner, swung around it--and saw no one. Down the alleyway he ran, swung about, and came out to port upon the deck. There was not a soul to be seen, and he hesitated an instant which way to run. Then he ran aft with prodigious speed, and, within a couple of seconds, reached the cabin companionway. The light burned at the head of the broad stairs, but not a soul was in sight. He dashed inside silently, being barefooted, and, peering over the baluster, he saw the steward on watch peacefully snoring away in a chair near the water-cooler at the foot of the stairway.

"Sam!" he called sharply.

The man awoke with a start.

"Aye, aye, sir!" he said, looking about him, recognizing the captain's voice, but not seeing him at once.

"Has any one come down this way within the last few minutes?" asked Junard.

"No, sir, not a soul, sir."

"Sure?"

"Sure, sir. I've only been dozing but a minute. I'd have seen 'em, sir."

Junard slipped away quietly, leaving the under-steward wondering what he wanted. With amazing swiftness, the master rushed back to his room. He reached it, and went inside the broken door. The light was still burning, but the safe was now closed. He tried the combination lock, and found it had been locked. The gun and knife had also disappeared. The room was in perfect order, the light burning full power, and there was not a thing to show that there had been an entry made. The bursted door was the only sign of any irregularity. He stood gazing at the safe for a few minutes. The thing was almost uncanny. He began to wonder if he had not had a nightmare, dreamed the whole thing. He turned the combination of the safe, and opened the door again. The contents of the safe were apparently intact. He reached for the inner drawer, where the important papers had been kept. They were gone.

It was not nightmare, after all. The thing was real. The papers had been taken from the safe, and they were worth perhaps a million to the finder, if not much more; that is, if they could be gotten out of the ship and into the hands of those who were antagonistic to the deal. He pondered a few minutes more, and then decided to go on deck and stand the next watch upon the bridge, remaining there, with the excuse that the cape was drawing abreast and he would take his departure from it. He decided not to say anything to either officer. The thing had best be kept secret, for the very existence of the papers might imperil his company, if that existence were known to certain parties. He hastily dressed and went on the bridge.

Mr. Dunn, the second officer, was now on watch, and it was about a quarter of an hour past midnight. The cape was drawing up, and was fast approaching the port beam. The ship was running about sixteen knots through a smooth sea, with a stiff northeast trade blowing almost dead ahead.

Junard came to where the second officer stood. Mr. Dunn turned and spoke to him, remarking upon the blackness of the night and the clearness of the Cape Maysi light.

Captain Junard said nothing, but watched the second officer narrowly, and tried to fathom his demeanor, looking for some sign that might show a knowledge of what had transpired aboard within the past few minutes. Dunn had been upon the bridge when that safe was shut, when the revolver had been taken away. Yet Dunn had been in the employ of the company for ten years, and was a reliable man, a sailor who had always done his duty without murmur. He had a fine record.

The light drew abeam, and the ship ran close to the low, rocky point where it juts out into the sea. The high mountains a few miles back showed dimly in the gloom, making a huge shadow in the background. As the light is upon the north side of the low promontory and shows across to the southward, the land was very near as the ship steamed past it and laid her head for the passage.

Junard gazed hard at the shore. He was thinking. Would any one try to get into communication with Cuba here at the cape? There was a question. If a small boat lay near, with lights out, she might get close to the ship without being observed, for it was quite dark, and the loom of the land made it darker than usual. It was nearly six hours' run to the next light, in the Bahamas, across the channel, and the Inagua Bank was too far to the eastward to invite shelter for a small boat. It would be either at the cape, or near Castle Rock, or Fortune Island, he believed, that an attempt might be made to get into communication with the ship. This he must stop. No one must get in communication with the land before daylight. Then he would search every passenger thoroughly, go through all rooms, and take a chance at the result. At Castle Rock he would be on watch, if nothing occurred here.

He gazed steadily into the blackness ahead. The stiff trade wind blew the tops of the seas white. They broke in whitecaps, which showed now and then through the gloom of the night. He strained his eyes, but nothing showed ahead. The glass showed a dull, dark sea; there was nothing in the line of vision within three miles--that is, nothing as large as a whaleboat. He was sure of this. There might be something under the dark loom of the land, but the glass failed to show anything.

"You take a four-point bearing upon the light, Mr. Dunn, and get the distance accurate," said Junard. "The mate took his bearing before he left the deck, but you can take another--we are about abreast now--she's doing exactly sixteen."

Knowing that this would take the second officer until the light bore four points abaft the beam, Junard left the bridge and went aft without notice. He slipped down to the main deck, and went along the gangway until he reached the taffrail. The whirl of the wheel shook the ship mightily here, the long, steel arm of the tiller under the gratings shook and vibrated with the pulsations. The chains drawn taut clanked and rattled in the guides and sounded above the low murmur of the shaking fabric. Junard gazed over the stern and watched the thrust of the screw as it tore the sea white and whirled a giant stream astern that showed sickly white with the phosphorescent glow.

When he turned again, he was aware of some one watching him. A head had appeared and vanished from behind the end of the cabin structure. The captain sprang for it with a bound. He turned the corner in time to see a skirt disappearing into the alleyway leading into the saloon. He was upon it with a catlike rush. He reached the saloon door just as it closed in his face.

Without hesitating an instant, he plunged against it, and it gave way to his great weight and power. He burst with a crash into the saloon.

The under steward who was on watch aft saw an apparition of a man in uniform coming through the door like a bull. He had opened his eyes in time to recognize the captain, who ran right across the cabin and out upon the deck beyond.

Junard was swift. He made a reach for the figure as it flitted into a room which opened upon the deck nearly amidships. His iron grip closed upon the skirt, which stretched out in the wind behind the fleeing figure. Then something struck him full in the face, took his breath, and blinded him. He clung to the cloth, choking, coughing, and blinded; made a grab with his free hand to clutch the person--but his grip closed upon empty air.

When he got the ammonia out of his eyes, which were almost blinded by the scorching fluid, he hurried to his room and bathed his head copiously in cold water until he regained his sight.

"Well, it's a woman, all right," he commented. "We'll have her all right in the morning; she won't get a show to-night to get away with anything. I guess I've got her measure."

In a few minutes he sent for the purser.

That individual came to the captain's room with fear and trembling. He had been playing draw poker, and breaking the rules of the ship, regardless of discipline, and expected, of course, to get a rating.

"Give me the passenger list," said Junard.

It was produced. They ran over it, looking for the location of all the women under thirty or thereabouts in the ship. Junard said nothing of his adventure, and the purser was amazed at his appearance.

"Had a bad night, captain?" he asked.

"Yes, rather. There's a case of cholera aboard--among the women--I don't know which one, but we'll have a chance to find out to-morrow. Don't speak of it to any one, mind you; don't let it out under any conditions--you understand?"

"Sure not," said the purser, paling a little under the news. "How did you come to find it out, sir?"

"Never mind that now. Just keep an eye on all the women in this ship, and don't let any of them get to throwing things overboard, or trying to do anything foolish. Watch them, and tell me of anything that might happen."

The purser, amazed, went back to his game of poker with certain passengers; but before doing so, he instructed several of his force to watch both gangways for the rest of the night. He did not know what the "old man" expected, but supposed that cholera patients attempted to throw things overboard, or tried suicide. The thought of the dread disease aboard made him forgetful of the game, and he lost heavily before morning.

Junard, still smarting from the ammonia thrown in his face, came again upon the bridge. He had saved his eyes by a fraction, for the fluid had struck him right in the nose and mouth, and only the spray of it had gotten into his face higher up. It had been squirted by a fluid "gun" of the kind commonly used by bicyclists for repelling angry dogs. Part of the skirt had remained in his grip, but the person had slipped away in an instant and disappeared. It angered him to think a woman could do such a thing. And yet, if it were a woman watching him, there was sure to be more than a woman connected with it. No woman, he reasoned, could have tried his safe. No woman would have taken his revolver and carried it, along with a deadly knife. There must have been a well-organized party to the affair, and they had watched him, after taking the papers, to see just what he would do. Of course, he knew they would not toss such a valuable document overboard in the night time without a boat being close at hand to pick it up. The ocean is a hard place to find anything at night. He knew now that they were aware of his watchfulness and would not attempt to get rid of the papers except under the most favorable conditions. To throw them overboard attached to anything small enough not to attract attention would be to invite sure loss. He reasoned this out as he stood out the rest of Mr. Dunn's watch, and at eight bells--four o'clock in the morning--the mate came again on the bridge without anything happening to excite him.

"I've been on deck for a short time, Mr. Jameson," said Junard; "but I'm going to turn in for a little while. Call me when we get well up to Castle Rock--we'll raise it before morning, before daylight with the weather clear like this."

"Aye, aye, sir; I will, sir--she's doing fine now," said Jameson, as he signed the order book for his course during his watch.

At two bells--five o'clock--the mate called the captain by going to his port door and knocking. He was amazed at the sight of a young woman who came forth from the room and whisked herself quickly down the deck and out of sight. Such a thing as a woman in the master's room at that hour was enough to excite Mr. Jameson. He had not been on the ship long, and the captain was new to him. Masters naturally had love affairs as well as sailors, but they were generally careful about being caught. Here Junard had asked him to call him when they sighted Castle Rock, and, as he knew they must do this by five, at least, the mate was puzzled to see a woman leaving the captain's room when he knocked. Why hadn't she left sooner? It was a joke he would be bound to retail to the rest sooner or later, and he smiled at the thought. He tried to get a glimpse of her face, but failed. Then he waited a decent length of time, and knocked again, louder, announcing the light ahead on the starboard bow.

Junard came on deck instantly. He had been dressed and dozing.

The gray light of the morning, which was now beginning to show things a little, enabled Junard to note the smile upon the face of his chief mate.

"Anything funny doing?" he asked.

"No, sir; but I seen her--I couldn't help it."

"Seen who?"

"I beg your pardon, sir; but she was just going out when I came to call you when I raised the light--your orders, sir, you know. I wouldn't----"

"Out with it! Whom did you see?" snapped the captain sharply, and his tone told plainly that he was in no mood for a joke. The mate sobered at once.

"There was a lady leaving your room as I came to knock--that's all, sir," he said sullenly. The captain had a poor appreciation of humor, he thought.

"What kind of looking woman was she?"

"Medium-sized, very well built--I might say stocky, sir--dressed in a dark cloth dress; she didn't have on a hat." This last was with almost a sneer. It brought Junard around with a jerk.

"I don't wish to seem foolish, Mr. Jameson, but you appear to presume too much. I might insinuate gently that you are a damn fool--but I won't, not until you tell me what is amusing you, and what you saw. I will say there was no woman in my room. If there was, I'd not be troubled to confess it."

"That's all I seen, sir," said Jameson sourly.

"Which way did she go?"

"She went aft," said the mate, wondering at the captain trying to hide the obvious. It irked him to think his master a fool. "She went aft, and that's all I seen."

"Mr. Jameson, there's a few things you don't know," said Junard. "When we get abreast of Castle Rock, I want you to go aft and watch both sides of the ship carefully, you understand? I want you to see that not a thing is thrown overboard--not a single thing--and if there is anything showing in the wake, come to me at once--or, better still, ring off the engines and mark it to pick up. This is very important. I can't tell you right now just how important it is, but I will say your berth depends upon it. Do not let anything leave the ship without notice--not a thing."

"Aye, aye, sir," said Jameson; and he went aft amazed at the outcome of his deductions. He wondered what was up. Some affair of the captain's, he was sure. But the severity of the master's tone, the earnestness of the captain's manner, disturbed him greatly. There was something peculiar about it that made him, forced him, to give his attention to it. And there was the threat of his own berth, his position, being in forfeit. He did not like that kind of talk from a captain. It savored of undue severity. He took his station aft of the superstructure with some misgivings. In the gray light of dawn, he watched both gangways, first one side and then the other, keeping well back of the house.

Castle Rock light drew well upon the bow. It was now within a mile, and Junard noticed a small fishing boat riding in the fairway just ahead of the ship. As the water was very deep here, he knew she was not anchored, but must be waiting and under way; yet no sail showed upon her. Perhaps a powerful motor lay within her. He watched her carefully, and walked from side to side of the bridge, waiting for some sign from those aboard. The wake was now showing white in the gray of morning, and a small object could soon be distinguished in the smooth sea to leeward of the lighthouse, where the heavy swell of the Atlantic was cut off.

Jameson, who stood at the taffrail, saw a figure of a man peer from the window of a stateroom nearly amidships. The head was quickly withdrawn. The mate watched, and then walked quickly across the stern and watched the wake, wondering what might be taking place. The form of a woman flitted down the gangway from forward, showing dimly in the gloom. She came from the opposite side of the ship from where he had seen the head peer forth. Hiding behind the house, he watched her come quickly aft. She was carrying something in her hand that looked like a life buoy. Instinctively the mate made ready to catch her. He saw that life belt, and to his imagination it spelled something like a person going overboard. The form of a man came quickly behind her, and Jameson recognized one of the under stewards, who had been watching for trouble at the purser's orders.

The woman ran at the sound of footsteps behind her. She came with amazing swiftness to the taffrail, near where Jameson stood. He gathered himself, and sprang forth, clasping her in his arms just as she hurled the life belt over the side into the sea.

The girl screamed shrilly, struggled frantically in the embrace of the officer. Jameson wondered what he was about--began to think he had captured a lunatic--when the rush of feet above caused him to loosen his grip. He turned in time to see Captain Junard take a header from the rail of the deck above and plunge headlong into the sea where it boiled and swirled from the thrust of the screw.

Jameson was paralyzed for an instant. He distinctly saw his commander go overboard. It gave him a shock. He let go the girl and stood motionless for a second. Then, as the head of Junard arose in the white waste astern and struck out for an object, the life belt the girl had thrown over, he gathered his wits again, and dashed for the quarter bell pull, or telegraph, to the engine room.