“Pardon me, sir,” said I, “but you’ve taken something that wasn’t intended for you.”
“How do you know that?” said he.
“It was intended for a young lady.”
The big man looked down upon me through narrow eyes.
“Exactly,” said he. “I am her father.”
And that was all; he passed in front of me without a threatening or an insolent word, merely pocketing the note as he slouched down the churchyard path. But I, as I followed, took offence from every cubit of his stature; and could have hurled myself upon him (so depraved was I already) had I been more than half his size.
Heaven knows how I behaved at lunch! Instead of Deedes and the sergeant, the big man in the church was on my nerves. What would he do? Read the letter, of course; yet he had not even opened it, to my certain knowledge, when I lost sight of him. Would he know whom the letter was from? If so (and know he must), my illicit dealings with the wanted man would be equally plain to him; and how would this stranger deal with me? Who was he at all? and did he know in the least who I was, or where to lay hands on me? Should I meet him at the courts? I began to tell myself I did not care either way; that it must all come to light sooner or later now, so the sooner the better. But the man never came to the courts. As the afternoon wore on without sight or sign of him, a little confidence returned; the evening was at hand, and with it my own atonement as well as that of Deedes; and there was comfort in the thought that at the worst my false position would come to an end within the same twenty-four hours which had witnessed its assumption.
But the interim was itself charged with dramatic interests for me personally. In the first place there was the three-cornered note. Impelled by that strongest of all motives, curiosity, and thus undeterred by the fiasco of the first note, I put the second where I had been told to put it, and that before I had been five minutes on the ground. Then I played a couple of setts; but my play was even worse than usual; for I had one eye all the time upon the gate, and it would follow each new arrival to the pavilion, and seek a blush on each fair face as it emerged. I saw nothing then to arouse my suspicions. Yet when I went for my coat, in less than an hour, the three-cornered note was gone.
Suspicious as I was, and, for the time being, every inch of me a spy, I could fasten my suspicion upon no one person. Every girl on the ground, so far as I could hear, was talking of Deedes with the shocked fascination of inquisitive innocence: it might have been any one of them. All looked at me as though they knew me for the red-handed accomplice that I was; and those to whom I was introduced tortured me unremittingly with their questions. Never I am sure was a man more visibly embarrassed; yet who upon that ground could plumb the actual depth of my discomfort? Only one young lady refrained from adding to it, and this was Miss Enid I’Anson herself. The name of Deedes never passed between us. I fancied her relief as great as mine.
We were together some time, strolling about the ground, picking up balls, and sitting on seats we had occasionally to ourselves. Miss Enid’s eyes appealed to me more than ever. They were dreadfully sad, but there was cause enough for that. I only hoped — I only hoped the three-cornered note was not in her pocket. Yet she had arrived early, and changed her shoes, and never played one sett.
My part in our conversation was chiefly wilful nonsense. I had conceived a laudable ambition to make those blue eyes smile. I am ashamed to add that I rattled on until I had them full of tears. Even then I did not adopt the usual, I believe the well-bred course of ignoring what was no business of mine.
“You are in trouble,” said I bluntly. “How is it at the bank?”
“My father has been summoned to Melbourne by the directors,” she answered in a low voice. “My mother — —”
“Your mother?” I repeated presently.
“Is ill in bed,” she sobbed. “Oh, Mr. Bower, it is a dreadful, dreadful trouble! You will wonder why I am here. I am here for the best. Think that, and nothing more.”
But I was not thinking of that at all; a dumb, blind rage had risen within me against the author of all this mischief; and if beforehand I was set upon my compact with Deedes, the tears of this sweet girl were as the seal and signature of my determination. Their money for his freedom; entire restitution for my risk. On any other terms I would not only be no friend to him, but his relentless foe.
Thinking of little else meanwhile, and pleading my sleepless night as an excuse alike for continued silence and for an early retreat to my lodging, I found him, shortly after nine o’clock, crouched in the cellar of the empty house, and evidently much altered by his long day in hiding. He said it had seemed like a week; and the few minutes, during which some fellow had been poking about the place, like a day. I told him that was the sergeant. The men had not been to mend the window. Deedes wished they had. Any risk, he said, would have been better than the interminable waiting and the ceaseless listening. But for one little friend he had found he would have made a dash for it and chanced everything. And in the light of the candle I had brought with me, he showed me a brown mouse seated on the collar of his coat; but when I pushed the candle closer, the mouse fled with a scuttle and a squeak.
“Ah, you’ve frightened him,” said Deedes; “however, he’s done his part. It killed the afternoon, taming him; have you ever tamed anything, Beetle? I have, every kind of animal, including women; but, by George, I never expected to see myself as tame as I am to-night! I’m unmanned. I feel like the Prisoner of Chillon. I’m rusted with his vile repose. You could lift me out by the hair and give me to the nearest bobby!”
“Come,” I said, “there’s no need for that. Only show me where the money is, and do as you’ve resolved to do, and it won’t be such a very bad business after all. I suppose you haven’t weakened on what we said this morning?”
He laughed bitterly; it was his deep dejection that had turned away my wrath.
“Good heavens, no! Have you? Did you put those notes where I told you to? Did you get the whiskers?”
“I have done both,” said I, seeing no point in mentioning the contretemps at the church. “Here are the whiskers; I bought them at a hairdresser’s — for theatricals. And here’s a clean duck suit and a helmet that I used to wear at sea. Don’t look askance at them. I know they’re conspicuous. For that very reason, they’re going to nip suspicion in the bud.”
Deedes considered a moment, and then gave the most genuine laugh I had heard from him yet.
“By George, they’re the very thing!” he cried, in a soft enthusiasm. “Lend me your hand, Beetle, for I’m as stiff as the dead.”
Five minutes later he rustled and gleamed from his chin to his ankles in snowy whites; blonde whiskers wept from either cheek; then with his pen-knife he hacked at his moustache until his mouth showed through and spoilt him; and with that we were ready to start. Our rendezvous was Western Beach; our only difficulty, an unseen exit from the house. We had luck, however, on our side. Not only did we break covert unobserved, but we met with no undue scrutiny in the open; not a single constable saw or was seen of us. So we gained the beach, deeply grateful to our proper stars.
“Now,” said Deedes, “you follow me along this pier.”
“Why?” said I, with ugly visions; and instinctively I stood in my tracks.
“Why? You see that topsail schooner away along on the left? Well, I haven’t told you before, but that’s where the swag is — aboard the schooner Mollyhawk — waiting for me!”
“I’m not coming,” said I stoutly. “You’re a desperate man, Deedes. I know you; none of your hanky-panky. Go you and fetch it. I stay where I am.”
“My good fellow, it’s far too heavy for one to carry. There’s hundreds and hundreds in gold!”
“Then bring your accomplice. I’m not frightened of you!” said I fiercely. “I see a man within a hundred yards; he’s coming this way; I shall have him by to see fair-play.”
“Oh, call him then!” cried Deedes, with an oath. “No,” he added with another, “I�
��ll do it for you. Not to trust a fellow in a mess like this!”
It was a very low cry that he uttered, but the man came up in a moment. I was surprised that he had heard it at all, surprised also but more puzzled by a something familiar in his size and gait. And yet not until he was up with us, and shaking hands with Deedes, did I recognise my burly adversary of the church hard at hand.
“Help! help!” I cried, with sudden insight.
“My dear old chap, what nonsense!” said Deedes, throwing an arm round my neck. Something was pressed across my mouth — something moist and cool like a dog’s nose — and held there, as I was held, while sense and strength ebbed out together. Then the masts and spars of ships flew to the stars in a soundless explosion; and I knew no more.
IV
I awoke between clean sheets in a narrow, natty berth. I had been stripped to the singlet, and yet handled with evident kindness. My clothes hung tidily from a peg; they were swaying very gently to and fro, like the candle-stick in its socket, and the curtains of my bunk. I was aboard the Mollyhawk, and the Mollyhawk was out at sea. I bounded to the floor, to the port; it was open, and I looked out into the alleyway. They had imprisoned me, then, in a deck-house stateroom. I made no doubt the door was locked, tried it, found it unlocked; had a vision of white napery and bright silver in the saloon; and closed the door more calmly than I had opened it. I realised that I was in the hands of a deliberate, cool, resourceful rascal; my only weapons, therefore, were coolness, deliberation, and resource.
So I dressed myself with care, and ere I was ready, could smile at the simple wiles which had ensnared me: the two farewell letters, of which one, alas! was evidently genuine; the well-acted depression and the air of resigned defeat at the close of a long day in loathly hiding. These pretences, so transparent now, struck no shame to my heart as I recalled them; for I knew that, were it all to come over again, I should be again deceived. What was must be endured; it was of no use thinking about it; one must think of what might yet be done. But where were we — through the Heads? By the gentle, joyful motion it was impossible to tell. Had we shown our heels? And for what port in all the world were we bound? As if in answer, the tramp of feet and the sound of rough voices in unison came to me at that moment through the open port:
“O where are you going to, my pretty maid?
Wa-ay, Rio!
O where are you going to, my pretty maid?
We’re bound for Rio Grande!”
I had learnt and liked the chanty on my voyage out in the Glasgow clipper; and half involuntarily, half out of bravado, I was joining in the chorus when I appeared on deck. I even lent a hand at the capstan, as Deedes had done himself, and I had the satisfaction of silencing his voice with the first note of my own:
“An’ it’s he-ey, Rio!
Wa-ay, Rio!
Sing fare you well,
You bonny young gell,
We’re bound for — —”
“Belay!” cried the jolly rich voice of that great villain, my churchyard acquaintance of Western Beach. As our eyes met, he honoured me with a jovial nod; then my white duck suit came between us, a little creased, but spotless as on the night before; and Deedes was looking me up and down.
“You’re a cool hand, too,” said he. “Well, I’m blowed!”
“I am studying in a cool school,” said I. “Deedes, I admire you; more than ever; there!”
“That’s very nice of you, Beetle.”
“Not a bit; it won’t prevent me from getting even with you the first chance I see.”
“You’ll find that difficult.”
“I shall stick at nothing.”
His face darkened. He had shaved himself clean since the night, and as he showed me his teeth I thought I had never seen so vile a mouth. It had degenerated dreadfully since his boyhood.
“Take care,” he snarled; “you’re being done pretty well so far. You’ve the second best stateroom aboard, and the cuddy tucker’s all right. Don’t you forget we’ve got a hold and irons, and rats and rancid pork as well!”
He turned on his heel, and I walked to the binnacle. Next moment he joined me there, dropping a hand upon my shoulder.
“East-by-south-a-quarter-east,” said he; “we cleared the Heads last night — bound for Rio Grande, or something like it — and that chunk on the port bow is Wilson Promontory. So now you know. And look here, Beetle, old chap, you’ve been good to me; I don’t want to be rough on you. Did you really think I was going to do as we said? My good fellow, how could you? See here, Beetle: the yacht’s a well-known yacht, Watson’s a well-known yachtsman, and he was in Melbourne to divert suspicion the day I did the trick. He stands in for his share. Why not stand in yourself? You’ve earned your little bit, if anybody has!”
“I thought you didn’t want to be rough on me,” said I wearily. “Have you got it all aboard?”
“Have I not! Every penny-piece!”
“And who’s Watson?”
I was at once introduced to the marine monster in blue, with the superfluous comment, “I believe you’ve met before. Captain Watson owns and skips this ship, and I skip and own the money; I’m purser, so to speak, but there’ll be fair do’s at the end of the voyage. You’d much better stand in, Beetle. The captain and I are both quite clear on the point.”
“Oh, so am I,” cried I ironically. “When one of you two has knifed the other for his share, I intend sticking the one who’s left!”
“I consider that remark,” said the captain, colouring, “in the worst of taste; and if you weren’t a friend of Mr. Deedes, I should kick you off my quarter-deck.”
Mr. Deedes looked thunderous, but said nothing.
“Oh, come,” said I, “if we can’t have our joke what can we have? I admit, if there’d been any truth in what I said — any chance or possibility of truth — I should have merited a visitation from the captain’s boots; but as I was talking arrant nonsense, what did it matter?”
I expected a blow for that, and tried to look as though I did not, being extremely anxious to return it with effect. I was, in fact, the slave all this time of emotional cross-currents, which made my revulsion from these villains the stronger because it was not continuous. I had more than tolerated them at first, but all at once I found myself desiring hold and rats and irons, rather than a continuance of their society. At this moment, however, the old and evil-looking steward was to be seen carrying smoking dishes to the house; the sight appealed to me in another place; and I will own to having changed my manner with some abruptness, and to adding an apologetic word on top of that.
“All right,” said Deedes savagely. “You’ve said about enough, and in the cuddy I’ll trouble you to hold your tongue altogether. The mate’s asleep in the other stateroom — take care you don’t lose yours! Take jolly good care this isn’t your first and last meal up here!”
After breakfast I smoked a pipe in the cross-trees, and looked in vain for a passing funnel: only a few insignificant sails were in sight, and those to leeward. The sea lay under me like a great blue plate, the schooner a white ant crawling in its centre. But for the swell, we might have been in Corio Bay. Should I ever see it again, I wondered, with the straight streets sloping to its brink? And I wondered if Deedes had the same thought, as he leant over the taffrail studying the wake; or had he more pangs and fears than he pretended, and were we less safe?
The captain joined him, whereupon Deedes retreated to the house, with black looks that were blacker still a few minutes later when he returned. Instead of rejoining the captain, he now came aloft to my cross-trees, and I made up my mind that we were to have it out in mid-air. Deedes passed me, however, without a word, and I saw a telescope sticking out of his pocket as he climbed higher. I thought it as well to let him have the mast to himself, and left him sweeping the horizon from near the truck.
Yet my own eyes were pretty good, and they had descried no sign of sail or smoke to windward. Why then this change in Deedes? Thoroughly puzzled, I reached the d
eck and strolled idly to the house; and the puzzle solved itself even as I entered and saw who was seated at the table.
“Miss I’Anson!” I fairly shouted.
“Yes — it is I. He said I should not see you. Do go — do go before he comes!”
“Go!” I cried. “Not see you! I shall see you and stay with you until I’m dragged out by force. That is” — I added suddenly— “unless you are here of your own free will. In that case — —”
“No, no!” cried the girl. “By trickery! By wicked, heartless, abominable lies! Nothing else — oh, nothing else would have brought me to this!”
“Then we’re in the same boat with a vengeance,” said I, seating myself on the opposite side of the table. “Tell me how it happened — and quickly. He has talked already of putting me in irons; he’ll do it after this.”
“Oh, where am I to begin? There is so much to tell — but he shall not do it!” vowed Miss I’Anson. “He shall not separate the only two honest people in the ship! Oh, yes, it was lies, but lies so clever and so fiendish! Let me tell you everything. I’ll try to be quick. He has been in the bank about a year. You know him perhaps better than I do. They say you were at school together. You must know his good points, Mr. Bower. I mean the points that would attract a girl. They attracted me. I made a fool of myself. You must have heard about it in Geelong. Well, it’s quite true; but it wasn’t yesterday, or the day before, or last week. It was in the very beginning. I got over it long ago. But he has always fascinated me. You know him — you can understand? Well, when the bank was robbed I knew he had done it; I can’t tell you how I knew, but know I did. His voice was not real. I have been made love to in that voice — there! Well, I went to his rooms. He lunched there every day. I saw his landlady. He had come in to lunch as usual, and said he would ring when he wanted his pudding. He did ring, but was longer than usual in ringing; that was all. His room was the back-room of the house on the ground-floor; the landlady lives in front. Quite a short time ago it was the other way about, and he suggested the alteration. He also made her promise to keep the blinds down in the kitchen, and the windows shut, to keep out the flies and the sun in the heat of the day; he could make her do what he liked. Now listen. The bank garden adjoins his landlady’s garden. I found soil on his window-sill, soil on the woodwork. This was in the afternoon when the excitement was at its height; he was in the bank. I came away, making the woman promise not to say a word; but she broke her promise that night, and that was what started the hue and cry. Meanwhile I wrote him a note telling him I knew all, refusing to see him, but solemnly undertaking that if he would put a note where he had once put other notes (because my mother couldn’t endure him), and say in it where the money was, nobody should ever know from me that he had touched it. Remember, Mr. Bower, I was once fond of him; nay, you did much as I did yourself; you will understand. He has told me all that has passed between you; how he gave you the note to put in the tennis pavilion. And what do you think he said in it? That if I would come to the beach at ten last night he would tell me where the money was. He did tell me. He told me it was sunk among the rocks at Queenscliff. He told me he was escaping in the Mollyhawk — this vessel — but he would land me at Queenscliff, and show me where the place was; because he meant to take the gold, but the notes he dare not. It was the notes that mattered to my father and the bank. They were nine-tenths of the stolen sum. Oh, I know I was a fool to believe or listen to a word he said! I should have had him put in prison at the first. But I am punished as I deserve; they will never forgive me at home; it will break their hearts; they will never get over it. And here I am — and here I am!”
Complete Works of E W Hornung Page 422