by A. Stone
CHAPTER XVIII
Definitely deciding the big Hun boat would not sink, I let the anchorgo, pulled the little lifeboat aboard and plugged the bullet holes,for I knew I would need it.
The Gulf sun was pretty hot and I didn't blame the Boches much whenthey called for drink and food.
Their cook, a flabby tool scarcely full witted, possessed a cravenfear of going into the next world. I released him with a forcibleinjunction that his first tricky move would send him there instantly.With knocking knees and gibbering to himself, he went about feedingthe others.
I saw little Jim moving around on the _Sprite_, so concluded mattersin her quarter were satisfactory. I had to go over there and I feltsure of what I would find. I hesitated, however, for it was a delicatesituation. But it could be put off no longer, so I got into the littlelifeboat and drew up alongside.
With a grimness of a lion playing with a cub little Jim had coaxed herblack-bearded father back, and given him food and dry clothing. Thoughstill very weak he was sitting in the bottom of the boat, leaningagainst the tiny cabin, evidently pleased with her wheedling andcaresses. But when he got a good look at me I thought his eyes wouldjump from their sockets. At first there was the fierce, savage look ofthe enraged Georgia Cracker, which as quickly melted into a joyfuldelight as his memory served him.
Little Jim ran to the side of the _Sprite_, grasped me by the hand andled me to him. "Daddy, this is Mr. Wood. If he had not come to-daywhat might have happened!" she exclaimed, manifestly undaunted by thedreadful experience she had undergone.
Though full bearded, with black hair like a lion's mane, thereremained that wonderful aquiline nose and powerful jaw and chin ofFighting Howard Byng. From where he sat he slowly reached up a broad,generous, strong hand.
Little Jim thought the emotion he showed was in recognition of theservice I had rendered him. But as our eyes met we both understood--tolittle Jim his name should remain Canby--sponge diver, merchant andGulf trader.
"Little Jim, your eyes are good and so is your aim. You watch what isgoing on over there while I have a talk with your father." Then Iexplained to her that the cook was commissioned to feed them food fromhis hand, as their own hands were serving another purpose just then.
Without hesitation she took her rifle and sat down in the stern,letting her legs hang over--the same picture as when I first saw hersitting on the wharf waiting for the tide to uncover the bullalligator.
Howard Byng sat there devouring me with his eyes, recollectionsrushing through his mind. I seated myself beside him. He seemed towant me close to him.
"I was sure I would see you again, but I never pictured it this way,"said he, turning his face toward me. "I would have drowned if you andlittle Jim hadn't come; the cannon shot put me out--it is a terribleshock under water."
"An active life has many surprises," I answered slowly.
"You've been at it all the time! I would rather be able to do what youhave done to-day than to have all the money in the world. I recallwhat you told me the last time I saw you. That mere business--meremoney would not satisfy. I could not see it then."
"You have made headway. Starting with nothing, not even a name," Isaid, so low that little Jim couldn't hear.
"Yes--I have done a little. First I had to work to live, and nowlittle Jim is all I work for. I--I--suppose you know--all aboutit--how it happened?"
"I don't know much about it, but I want to. Just now we both havesomething important on hand. I must get these men moving north as soonas possible."
"Little Jim tells me you landed them all. I wish I could have helped.I can tell you something about them. I have known it for a long time,but--but you know my position is a little peculiar. But I didn't thinkthey would try to kill me."
"Howard, just now I want to get the Boches and the cutter into port. Ithink the boat's bulkheads will keep her up."
"Will she answer to the rudder?"
"Yes, I think so."
"Then I can tow her in this boat; I can pull a train of cars," hesaid, brightening.
"Can you? The cutter is a wreck. If you pull her in she's yoursalvage."
He smiled for the first time, though he still labored for breath withwhich to speak.
"I've been doing a little in that line for some time," he said, movinghis foot toward an ingot of copper. "That's why the Bulows wanted toget me, and I guess they would have done it this time if it hadn'tbeen for you." He spoke grimly, taking the oxygen tube and drinkingdeeply from it. "I'll be ready for anything in a few minutes now,"said he, and with considerable effort he stood up and looked across atthe wreck like an eagle ready to swoop down upon its prey.
"Where do you want to take it--Key West?"
"No--just now I would rather hide it and get the prisoners up Northquickly."
"I can take it where it can't be found in a hundred years," he said,looking over his engine.
Little Jim still watched as we raised anchor to get under way. He, orrather little Jim, towed the Hun cutter. I ran the _Titian_ andfollowed. I wanted Washington to get their eyes and ears full beforethe Boche interest heard of it. I had started something big and neededhelp.
Byng hid the Boche cutter in a basin among some small islands, andran for his own place not far away. He tied up and was waiting for me,fully recovered, the powerful, robust man of the sea. Six men were anoverload for the _Titian_ and we couldn't keep up with the _Sprite_.
Howard didn't pay much attention to me until they were lined up on hislittle wharf.
I didn't like the way he stood there, eyeing the fat man.
He would not come close, seeming to fear that he might harm the fellowif he did. He appeared to be struggling to restrain himself andsucceeded pretty well. I thought it was because he saw the bandagedhand that little Jim had punctured when trying to break the lock ofhis warehouse.
He grew into the fierce Georgia Cracker again, whom I had seen standup and offer to fight a whole camp of rough surveyors--but moreintense if it were possible.
I started over to him and asked, "Where can I keep them until a traincomes going north? One is due in about three hours."
"It don't stop here," he said, never for an instant taking his eyesoff the big man with the great girth and jowl.
"It will stop for me, and before it gets here I must search each ofthese fellows down to the very skin."
His mind was working like a whip. Without replying he turned on hisheel, went into the store and returned with a key to the warehouse.
"They were so anxious to see the warehouse, we will satisfy them now.Keep them in here," said he, unlocking and throwing open the door.
The big man was exhausted. He dropped in a greasy heap on a pile ofgreen hides. When I cut the cords he could hardly get his armsforward. His wrists looked bad.
I began with the cook. Made him strip before me and I examined eachgarment critically, removing all personal effects, putting them in apackage, carefully marking his name and address on it so that theywould be restored. This gave me an excuse to ask a great many otherquestions. Each man, when searched, was carefully segregated from theunsearched.
Howard stood by eagerly looking on at the thoroughness with which Iproceeded, using leather from valuable skins with apparentindifference, to tie up their effects.
The thin man proved to be the manager of all the Bulow interests inthat section. He had considerable cash on his person and indignantlyprotested that I was high-handed in the whole procedure. It was anoutrage some mighty power would avenge, he insisted vehemently. Atthat time the Boches actually believed that when they pulled theproper string some twenty million Germans would rise in defense of the"fatherland," but I never saw it just that way.
The fat man with the bandaged hand had revived enough to show greatinterest in my procedure with the manager, evidently hoping that theytwo, as dignitaries, were to be spared the indignity of being strippedand searched.
It took more than an hour to get to the wilted tub of tallow. Hiswhite flannel trousers and
delicately marked shirt, expensive Panama,and shoes were badly mussed by the ruthless treatment accorded himwhile in the boat, and also later on when he came in contact with thesalted hides. Brain heat or dandruff had cleared away his front hair.He did not look at all lovely, but, having rested, was full of fight.His attitude was that of a maddened bull, his murky eyes like a poolof filthy sewage. When finally he stood stripped before us I glancedat Howard. His attitude was alarming. He looked like a lion ready totear its prey limb from limb. I couldn't understand at first.Gradually a great light dawned in my mind--but there were things I wasnot supposed to know about, as yet, so I turned my gaze upon theprisoner.
"I refuse to submit to such treatment!" he hissed from between lipsnow repulsively purple. "You have no right to treat even commonprisoners in this way--dogs--damned Yankee dogs!" he let out, sittingupright now. "I represent great interests. I am an officer in a largebank. You will pay dearly for this!"
Howard stood some distance away from the frothing Boche. His eyesscintillated fire of extreme hatred. His fingers clenched and he tooka step toward the man, then hesitated. The situation was tense. I wasafraid he might do a rash thing. At last I made reply to the fellow.
"It is my right and duty to make a prisoner safe for transportation,"said I. "If you don't remove your clothing for examination I shall doit forcibly, and I don't intend to wait long, either." I spokequietly, now watching Howard also.
Then I went at the rebellious Boche and flipped open his belt,starting, with little delicacy, to undress him. When he saw I meantbusiness, he relented and began working at his own collar.
The manager, who had donned his clothing, came from among thoseexamined and asked permission to speak with him.
"If you come one step nearer I will shoot you dead in your tracks," Iwarned. "Tricks like that won't work. He is going to do what I tellhim in exactly the manner I want him to," I said, forcibly enough,taking up a rifle leaning behind me.
Howard moved in front of the manager, like the sturdy oak he was,grand, powerful, magnificent, able to cope with all of them unaided.The last hope was gone, so the undressing began over again. Pieceafter piece the fat Boche tossed upon the floor in front of me, inrage and unbroken spirit, affecting an air of grandeur that intimatedcondign punishment for those to blame for this terrible outrage on hisperson, and had to be prodded again for the belt he wore next to hisskin.
It seemed to me that Howard would devour him with his eyes as Iscrutinized his silk underwear and returned it after a careful search.
I took everything--watch, trinkets, money and wallet, returning onlyhis clothing, the belt being retained for more deliberateexamination. I have spent most of my life studying men and women, butthis man's case mystified me. Dressed again, he looked a good deal ofa personage, undoubtedly forceful, and a power among men. But hisshrunken legs and flabbiness of muscle I could not understand, norcould I comprehend Howard's consuming interest in him. The fact of hishaving tried unlawfully to "break and enter" Byng's warehouse, only toget his hand bored through by little Jim, was not enough. He was aprisoner now for his morning's work. I could not resist the impressionwe get of certain females, not women, who, barren themselves, hatechildren, and kiss dogs.
Well--perhaps I did wrap his personal belongings with more care andformality than I did the others.
"What name, please?" I asked, poising my pencil.
He looked at the manager and did not answer readily.
"Forman--Charles Forman," he finally blurted.
"That's a lie!" came from Howard Byng as clear as the sound of achurch bell. "His name is Ramund--a damned Prussian!"