by A. Stone
CHAPTER XIV
Riding back to Key West I run over in my mind all that little girl hadsaid, even those matters to which she vaguely referred. Somethingabout her face and manner had made a deep impression on me. I felt Iwanted to help this wonderful little flower girl, blooming out of thebare reefs of the Keys, having the appearance of the serrated edges ofan immense alligator tail extending out of the Everglades into theStraits of Florida. There was always the possibility, it seemed to me,of its moving suddenly any time, throwing Key West and all the restinto the Gulf of Mexico, or over into the Bermudas.
Ike Barry, of the big heart, was astonished at my good day's work forhim, and wanted to reciprocate. I told him to hustle the goods onpromptly and that would be enough for my time and trouble. Then Iinquired:
"Who is the pink-cheeked, deep-waisted Teuton individual--thecomparatively new addition--is he part of the mystery about Bulow andCompany?" I asked casually.
"Mystery is right!" he replied softly. "I don't know for sure. Wasn'tmuch interested, in fact. I think it's like this. When old Bulow diedthe business was incorporated by the heirs, and then this fellow showsup with a big say, executively. The manager jumps when he sneezes. Thechange didn't affect their credit and that's all that interests me.However, I can find out easily enough, and will let you know."
"Do that, Ike, and I will call it square for getting you a newcustomer," but that night I found a hundred good Havanas in my room.Afterward I put on working clothes and went down to the dock to findScotty. He was working on his engine, the cylinder heads off, gettingready for a big run the next day. I fell to and helped him, enablingme to better examine the cutter--and talk with him. Scotty was coveredwith sweat, grease and indignation.
"There's something coming off to-morrow, and it beats hell that Ican't find out just what it is. This boat goes out to-morrow and Idon't go with it, for the first time. A greasy piece of German cheesefrom one of the big steamers is going to run her so what in the devildo you suppose they are up to?" he asked, wrathful and caustic.
I looked surprised and glanced about.
"No, they're gone now but they've been working on her most all day. Doyou see that plate bolted to the deck aft? They think they're foolingme, but that is a base for mounting a five-inch gun. They put that inplace to-day. Now, why do they want a gun on this craft? And rifleswere brought aboard. They're here now; want to see 'em?"
"All the English and American cargo and passenger ships are mountingguns for defense now," I suggested, but he shook his head negatively.
"This is no cargo boat. She's less than a hundred feet over all. Weonly take a little freight to fishermen at the Bermudas and bring inhides and sponges. We don't go where there's submarines. No--there'ssomething else and I believe it has a lot to do with this man Canby.They're bitter against him. The manager and that tub of tallow, withhis left hand still in bandage, was aboard this afternoon. I couldn'thear all they said and they talked German, which I don't understandmuch. I did hear Canby's name and hear 'em swear. I tell you they areup to some deviltry."
We adjusted the gasket, replaced the heavy cylinder head, and beganbolting it down, both silent for some minutes.
"Scotty, what else is it that makes you think there is something wrongin the wind?" I asked, thinking hard as we worked.
"Well, why don't I go as usual? Why do they put a Boche in my placeand order me to look after repairs on the ocean tug? And why do theywant a five-pound gun and rifles? They're going to call at theTortugas and then cross the Gulf--to Galveston or New Orleans. There'sno submarine there. The fat party and two or three others are going.The cabins were fixed up to-day and a new cook is shipped."
"You couldn't hear what they said about Canby?"
"No, but I'm sure they are watching him; they know what he does everyday. He's very slick and either knows too much for 'em or is beatingthem to something. And 'beer-tub' is a muckle sore about having hishand punctured."
All the unanswered questions Scotty asked struck me between theeyes at once. What did the manager and an executive of Bulow andCompany want to see in Canby's warehouse? Was it the beautifulleather, or something else for which they were willing to "break andenter"--committing a felony--to see? Why were they mounting cannon andtaking on rifles if their object was lawful and peaceful? And why didthey want a crew strictly Boche? Scotty noticed my silence and lookedover anxiously.
"Scotty," I asked quietly, "do you know that, outside of gold and aconscience, the Boche needs copper, rubber and cotton, in the ordernamed, more than anything else?"
"That they do."
"Think it over. Copper from Mexico, or any Gulf port in the States.The same of cotton, and the biggest rubber port, Campeechy, across thestraits. It is possible you have overlooked or forgotten something.Has any of Bulow's ships, tugs or barges handled anything like that?And that, just now, might mean a Dutchman's one per cent, besidesloyalty to the murder trust, in getting that kind of merchandise intoGermany through Sweden?" We both worked swiftly as we talked, runningdown the nuts on the cylinder-head studs.
Scotty, under his breath, began heaping curses on himself as abonehead, and tried to take it out on the wrench he was using. Iwaited till he subsided.
"Scotty, you know the _Deutschland_, a cargo U-boat, has made a fewtrips to northern ports and that a sister sub they never mentioned isknown to have left for this side. Is it possible Bulows have somethingto do with it? And that everything the Boche fails to say is just asimportant as what he usually lies about?"
"Yes, but damn it, man, it don't come easy for me to go back on themthat pay me."
"I know, Scotty, but it ain't treason to fight a German. He lies justas easy as he ruins young girls, or mutilates prisoners and woundedmen. Their hearts, throats, teeth, eyes and hands, the very marrow oftheir bones utter lies perfected for fifteen hundred years. Think itover, Scotty," I said, wiping my hands. "I am going up to the wirelessstation and will be back in about two hours."
"Don't you think there are some good ones?" he asked, looking injured,evidently shocked by the memory that he had trusted some of them.
"Yes, Scotty, a few who left Germany because they hated it, but to beborn and to grow up in Germany adds a virus to the blood that is bad.It can be neutralized about as easy as black can be made white. Youcan't expect to rival them in general crookedness in a thousand years'practice. They're about to hand you something."
He threw down his wrench wrathfully, wiped his hands, and followed meup on the dock.
"What do you want me to do?" he asked, his head hanging.
"If there is another man in the Bulow service you can trust, get mesome information, but mind what I have told you about trusting a bornGerman. They revel in deceit and dirty, treacherous lies. When I getback I'll tell you what I want." Instead of Scotty going back to workI saw him go down the wharf where the ocean tug was tied up, but I wasnot quite sure he was convinced.
I went to the wireless station and the information I got fromWashington was mainly satisfactory, but a long way from completing amore or less nebulous theory, pointing to something big.
Coming back past the hotel I found a note there from Ike Barry. Itread:
"The big money in Bulow is supplied by the Transatlantic BankingCompany, New York. The fat party represents them."
When I got back to the dock Scotty was working listlessly. Didn't seemto care if he never got the cutters ready to go out, and lookedthoroughly disgusted.
"What have you dug up, Scotty?" I knew I had him. My appeal had sunkin.
"Not a blessed thing. I thought Jim Wheeler, the assistant engineer onthe tug, could tell me something, but he's gone. The crew's allsauerkraut now. I'm sure Wheeler is on the level."
"Well, drop that now and pay close attention. I have a plan. It's abig bet, but I am going to make it if you will help. When does thiscutter leave in the morning?"
"Eight o'clock."
"And how long will it take to run to Tortugas?"
"She can do it in
two hours easy."
"That will bring her there at ten. Scotty, she must not get there tilltwelve, or even later. I know what they are doing at Tortugas. How canyou fix it?" I asked, giving him a strong eye bracer.
He shrank as if stung. Scotty's inherited fealty to an employer wastouched. It was one thing to talk, but his nature balked at acting. Helooked down at the cutter as a lover, then across to the ocean tugthat had replaced all hands with German born. His eyes finally cameback fighting and his hands closed viselike, struggling with himself.Now was my time to drive in the nail.
"Scotty, there are some kinds of fire you must meet with fire, howevermuch you hate the job. This is one of those cases. If I am right andcan pull this off, it will mean millions upon millions for the Starsand Stripes and it's now only a question of days when we will be atwar with Germany, too."
"Are you sure of that?"
"Yes, as sure as hell! Are you going to help me?" I shot this at himin a rasping whisper.
"I didn't say I wouldn't," he finally blurted, "but I don't know how."
"Give me your hand," I said, grabbing that greasy member and shakingit firmly. When a Scot shakes hands on a bargain he's safe.
"Now, Scotty, have you taken gasoline yet?"
"Yes."
"How much?"
"Three hundred gallons."
"Scotty, don't finish your job on that engine to-night. Let the newengineer adjust and time it after you finish in the morning. Then justbefore you come off slip this little ounce package in the gasolinetank."
Scotty grinned for the first time. "Will that do it?"
"In about half an hour his trouble will commence. It's a trick Ilearned in German shipyards."
Scotty grinned again.
"They think they know it all, especially about machinery, when, as amatter of fact, everything they have is stolen. It's their perverted,thieving ego, Scotty. They even murder more efficiently than anyoneelse."
Scotty laughed outright. "I wonder if they will have a different kindof hell or heaven?"
I felt sure of Scotty now, so I said, "Scotty, they know nothing aboutheaven. About hell, what they don't know now they will learn whenAmerica gets in the game. This very case may be the one to bring usin."
Scotty started to yell but I put my hand over his mouth. "Anyhow," hewhispered, "I got one whoop coming to me later--eh?"
"You have, Scotty--stick tight, all ears and eyes, and no tongue." Hestood grinning after me as I went my way. "I'll see you soon," I saidin parting.