A Man and His Money

by Frederic Stewart Isham

  CHAPTER XIV

  THE CRISIS

  On the _Nevski_, the lookout forward walked slowly back and forth. Onceor twice he shook his head. But a few moments before the yacht had rundown a small boat, he had reported the matter, and--the _Nevski_ hadcontinued ahead, full speed. She had not even slackened long enough tomake the usual futile pretense of extending assistance to theunfortunate occupant, or occupants. His excellency, Prince Boris,evidently did not wish, or had no time, to bother with blunderers; ifthey got in his way so much the worse for them. The lookout, pausing tostare once more ahead, suddenly started. Though apathetic, like most ofthe lower class of his countrymen, he uttered a faint guttural ofsurprise and peered over the bow. A voice had seemed to rise from thevery seething depths of the sea. Naturally superstitious, he made thesign of the cross on his breast while tales of dead seamen who came backplayed through his dull fancy.

  Once more he heard it--that voice that seemed to mingle with the wailingtones of the deep! The little swinging lantern beneath the bowspritplayed on his bearded face as he bent farther forward, and, with growingwonder not unmixed with fear, now made out something dark clinging toone of the steel lines that ran from the projecting timber to the ship.It took the lookout a few moments to realize that this dark object thathad a voice--albeit a faint one--could not be other than a recentoccupant of the small boat he had seen disappear. This person must haveleaped upward at the critical moment, and caught one of the taut strandsupon which he had somehow managed to hoist himself and to which he nowclung desperately. It was a precarious position and one that the motionof the yacht made but briefly tenable.

  Satisfied that the dark object was a reality and not an unwontedvisitation, the lookout began deliberately to unloosen a gasket. Momentsmight be eternity to the man below, but Muscovite slowness is not to behurried. The yacht's bow poised in mid air a breathless instant; chaosseemed leaping upward toward Mr. Heatherbloom, when something--aline--struck and rubbed against his cheek. He seized and trusted himselfto it eagerly. The sailor was strong; he pulled in the rope. Mr.Heatherbloom came up, but his strength was almost gone. He would havelet go when iron fingers closed on his wrists, and after that heremembered no more.

  He awoke in a berth in a fo'castle, and it was daylight. Through apartly-opened hatch he could see the fine spray that came over the sideof the yacht. Amid misty particles touched by the sun shone a tinysegment of rainbow. This Mr. Heatherbloom watched with a kind ofchildish interest; then stretched himself more luxuriously on the hardbunk. It was very fine having nothing more important and arduous to dothan watching prismatic hues; his thoughts floated back to longforgotten wonder-days when he had possessed that master-marvel of toys,a kaleidoscope, and on occasion had importantly permitted thegolden-haired child in the big house on the top of the hill to--

  The dream was abruptly dispelled by some one laying a tarry hand on hisshoulder. Mr. Heatherbloom raised himself. The person had acharacteristic Russian face. For a moment the young man stared at thestolid features, then looked around him. He saw the customaryfurnishings of such a place; hammocks, bags and chests, several of thelast marked with Russian characters. A trace of color sprang to Mr.Heatherbloom's face; he realized now what boat he was actually on, andwhat it all meant to him. He could hardly believe, however, andcontinued to regard the upside down odd lettering, when the sailor, whohad so unceremoniously disturbed him, motioned him to get out. Mr.Heatherbloom obeyed; he felt very stiff and somewhat light-headed, buthe steadied himself against the woodwork. The sailor drew a dipperfulof hot tea from a samovar and thrust it into his hand. He drank withavidity; after which the sailor made him to understand he was to follow.

  The young man hesitated--a new risk confronted him. To whom would he betaken? The prince? He had once been standing in the area way of the VanRolsen house when the nobleman had approached. Had the distinguishedvisitor then been so absorbed in the sight of Miss Dalrymple coming downthe steps that he had utterly failed to observe the humble caretaker ofcanines? Possibly--and again possibly not. In the former contingency hemight yet have a brief breathing-spell to think--to plan for the future,unless--There was another to reckon with--the woman he had met in thepark, whose automobile he had attempted to follow. She, too, was on theboat! He had been her dupe once. Was he now to become her victim?

  The young man's jaw set. There was no holding back now, however; he hadto go on--and he did, with seeming indifference and bold enough step.At the top of the ladder the sailor passed him on to some one else--anofficer--who led him this way and that until they reached a secludedpart of the deck, where, near the rail, stood a tall dark figure, glassin hand. Until the last moment Mr. Heatherbloom had hoped it might beonly the captain he would be called on to encounter, and that thataugust person would summarily dispose of him, ordering him somewhere outof sight, below, to work his passage in the sailors' galley, perhaps. Hewould have welcomed the most ignominious service to have found now arespite--to be enabled to escape discovery a little longer. But thewished-for contingency had not arisen. He faced the inevitable.

  "The man, your Excellency!"

  His excellency looked. He had been scanning the horizon and hisexpression was both moody and preoccupied. Mr. Heatherbloom bentslightly forward; his lids fell to conceal a sudden glitter in his eyes;his hand touched something hard in his pocket. If his excellencyrecognized him--There was one way--a last mad desperate way to serve,to save her. It would be the end-all for him, but his life was a verysmall thing to give to her. He did not value it greatly--that physicalself that had been such an ill servant. He gazed at the prince now withveiled expectancy, his attitude seemingly relaxed, innocent ofstrenuosity. Would the prince's gaze flare back with a spark ofremembrance? If in that tense instant it had done so, then--

  But his excellency regarded Mr. Heatherbloom blankly; his eyes wereemotionless.

  "You mean the fellow we ran down?" The prince spoke as if irritated bythe intrusion.

  "The same, Excellency!" The officer stepped back. Mr. Heatherbloom didnot move.

  "What did you get in our way for?" The prince's voice had a metallicring; he towered, harshly arrogant, over his uninvited passenger. "Don'tyou know enough to get out of the way?"

  "It appears not, sir." Heatherbloom wondered at the sound of his ownvoice. It seemed to come, small and quiet, from so far off. Hisexcellency had not recognized him, but was he suspicious? Maybe not. Noone would be fool enough to get deliberately in the way of thefast-steaming _Nevski_. Small craft were numerous in the bay andaccidents to them would happen. There was nothing so out of the ordinaryfor a big boat to run down a tiny craft. It was somewhat uncommon forany one in the wee boat to save himself, truly, but even in this featureof the present case the prince experienced but a mild interest.

  "Who are you?" he said. "A fisherman?"

  "Not exactly," answered Mr. Heatherbloom, "though sometimes I crab. Iwas crabbing yesterday."

  As he spoke his gaze swept beyond to not far-distant cabin doors andwindows. He and the prince were standing on the starboard side of theboat; it was this side that had faced the island when the young man hadgazed down upon the yacht from the big sand-hill, and fancied he hadseen--

  "What am I going to do with you?" The prince seemed more out of tempernow. "My crew are all Russians and I don't want any of your--" Hestopped; shifting lights played ominously in his gaze; a fewdissatisfied lines on his face deepened. "I didn't ask you to comeaboard," he ended with an angry gesture.

  "Sorry to intrude!" Mr. Heatherbloom spoke at random. "But I reallycouldn't help it, don't you know. No time to ask permission."

  His excellency frowned. Did he suspect in these words an attempt at thatinsidious American humor he had often vainly endeavored to fathom? Mr.Heatherbloom gazed at him now with seemingly innocent but really veryattentive eyes.

  A superb specimen of over six feet of masculinity, the prince waspicturesquely attired in Russian yachting-garb while a Cossack capadorned a visage as bold and romantic as an
y young woman might wish togaze upon. And gazing upon it himself--that rather stunning picture theprince presented on his own yacht--a sudden chill ran through Mr.Heatherbloom. This titled paragon refused by Miss Dalrymple? A feudallord who made your dapper French counts and Hungarian barons appear butsmall fry indeed, by contrast! The light of the sea seemed suddenly todazzle Mr. Heatherbloom. A wild thought surged through his brain. BettyDalrymple, bewildering, confusing, made up of captivatinginconsistencies, had sometimes been accused by people of a capacity fordoing the wildest things. Had she for excitement--or any otherreason--eloped with the prince? Were they, perhaps, married even now? Hedismissed the thought quickly. All the circumstances pointed againstthis theory; his original one was--must be--correct.

  "Well, now you are here, I suppose I've got to keep you." The prince hadagain spoken.

  "I suppose so," said Mr. Heatherbloom absently. He was studying now thenear-by cabin windows. One, with beautiful lace and glimpses of pinkbeyond, caught his glance.

  "What can you do?" Sharply.

  "Oh, a lot of things!" Had the curtain waved? His heart thumped hard--hescarcely saw the prince now.

  "Not manage a sail-boat, I'm convinced." He forced himself to turnagain, as through a mist was aware of his excellency's sneeringcountenance. "Judging from your recent performance!"

  "That was hardly a fair test," Mr. Heatherbloom replied anyhow. Histhoughts were keyed to a straining-point; his glance _would_ swerve; hestrove his best to control it. She was there--there--Shrouds and staysseemed to sing the words. He would have sworn he caught the flash of awhite wrist.

  "Why not?" Was the prince still examining, questioning him? Again aprimal impulse was suppressed, though his muscles were like whipcords.He yet compelled himself to endure the ordeal. What was the query about?Ah, he remembered.

  "Well, you see, I must have lost my head." It was not a bright answerbut he did not care; it was the best that occurred.

  The prince strode restlessly away a few paces, then returned. "Were youever at sea before?"

  "I once owned a y----" Mr. Heatherbloom paused--with an effort resumedhis part and a smile somewhat strained: "I once went on a cruise on agentleman's yacht." Some one _was_ in the state-room; was overhearing.His head hummed; the refrain of the taut lines rang louder.

  "What as? Cabin-boy, cook?"

  "Why, you see--" The prince certainly did not see him--he was once morestaring away, over the dark water--"I acted in a good many capacities.Kind of general utility, as it were. Doing this, that, and the other!"

  "'The other', I should surmise." Contemptuously.

  Mr. Heatherbloom moved; the curtain had moved again. "Where are yougoing?" he asked a little wildly. "You see I might have importantbusiness on shore." Foolish talk,--yet it fitted in as well as anything.

  The prince, for his part, did not at first seem to catch the other'swords; when he did he laughed loudly, sardonically. "That is good;excellent! _You_ have 'important business'!"

  "Yes; important," repeated Mr. Heatherbloom. "I--" He got no further.His eyes met another's at the window, rested a moment on a woman's facewhich then suddenly vanished. But not before he realized that she, too,had seen him--seen and recognized. He had caught in that fleetinginstant, wonder, irony, incredulity--a growing understanding! Then heheard a soft laugh--a musical but devilish laugh--Sonia Turgeinov's!