Works of W. W. Jacobs

by Jacobs, W. W.

  “Oh, my lor — . Yes, my lady,” said Miss Mudge respectfully.

  She finished her task at last, and, Lady Penrose having retired to the tent to complete her toilet, busied herself with preparations for breakfast.

  “Make haste,” said a voice from the tent. “I am hungry.”

  “There’s no matches,” said the girl. “Mr. Carstairs must have gone off with them. Shall I go and ask him for them?”

  Lady Penrose hesitated. “No,” she said at last, “it doesn’t matter. We can drink cold water.”

  Miss Mudge sighed, and with lagging footsteps went to the barrel and filled a couple of mugs with the refreshing beverage. A piece of stale bread and some oil that had once been butter completed the feast. And they had just finished, when the offender came sauntering up and with a cheerful smile asked for a cup of tea.

  “Certainly,” said Lady Penrose, as she got up and moved towards the tent. “You are our host, I believe. We have just finished.”

  Carstairs looked down at the remains of the feast.

  “Good gracious!” he exclaimed. “Haven’t you had any tea?”

  “No matches,” muttered Miss Mudge.

  “I’m very sorry,” said Carstairs, going on his knees and lighting the stove. “How thoughtless of me. Fill the kettle, please.”

  The girl obeyed with alacrity.

  “And fetch a tin of something and some biscuits.”

  He waved the girl away when the kettle boiled and made the tea himself, and despite the fact that the mug he sent in to Lady Penrose was returned untasted, with a curt message to the effect that she had had her breakfast, partook of a hearty meal. Miss Mudge, without prejudice, accepted three mugs of tea.

  He sat smoking after the meal and reviewing in all its bearings a situation which was becoming more and more difficult. He knocked out his pipe and raising his field-glasses looked long and earnestly at the horizon. The blue surface of the sea was unbroken, and there was no sound except the noise of the surf on the outer beach. He turned, with a grave face, as Lady Penrose emerged from the tent.

  “This is extraordinary,” he exclaimed.

  Lady Penrose, who was walking on, paused for a moment. “I am glad you think so,” she said over her shoulder.

  “Incomprehensible,” murmured Carstairs. “However, I suppose we must make the best of it. I hope you slept well?”

  “Thank you; yes.”

  “I was afraid I might have disturbed you. I am not used to sleeping in the open, and I got somewhat cramped. The dew was very heavy.”

  Lady Penrose said “Indeed!”

  “And I must say,” exclaimed Carstairs, with sudden heat, “that the part is unworthy of your powers.”

  “Part, sir?” said Lady Penrose sharply. “Part?”

  Carstairs nodded. “Little Miss Muffitt,” he explained; “and, frankly, I don’t like being the spider. The part doesn’t suit me.”

  “Lit-tle Miss Muffitt!” repeated Lady Penrose, breathless with indignation.

  “That’s how it appears to me,” said Carstairs. “Exactly like the old nursery rhyme. Directly I come, you disappear. Won’t you please tell me why you are treating me like this?”

  “Is there any need to ask?” she inquired.

  “I think so,” said Carstairs firmly. “I behave very well indeed; remarkably well, I might say, to keep my word to you, and this is all the thanks I get.”

  Lady Penrose stood eyeing him in perplexity. “When I made that foolish suggestion I was not prepared for your — improvements,” she said at last.

  “Improvements,” said the other.” Mine? Good heavens! You don’t think that I arranged this, do you?”

  “I imagine that the captain looked to you for orders, Mr. Carstairs.”

  “Orders!” repeated Carstairs.” Orders! I — I told him to do just what you suggested, and not a word more. Not a word. I thought that the whole thing would last about a couple of minutes, and I thought — I hoped — that it would deceive nobody. Why should I do such a thing? Give me a reason.”

  Lady Penrose gave a slight toss of the head. “I am not here to be catechised,” she remarked coldly.

  “But it’s so unfair,” protested Carstairs. “What reason could there possibly be for my behaving in such an outrageous fashion? You don’t think I wanted to carry off Mudge, do you? Or — or — By Jove!”

  He stopped suddenly and gasped. Lady Penrose looked out to sea.

  “Can’t you see what an awkward position you have placed me in?” she said at last.

  “Not me,” said Carstairs earnestly. “I assure you that I know nothing whatever about it. I shouldn’t dare do such a thing. My respect and — and admiration — hopeless admiration — for you are far too great.”

  “Mr. Carstairs!” said Lady Penrose, reddening.

  “It’s true,” he said stoutly.

  “I hope that the others will think so,” retorted Lady Penrose, clasping her hands. “Think of Mrs. Jardine!”

  “And Miss Flack, and the girls,” said Carstairs helpfully. “Yes. Still, what does it matter? And I will be quite frank with you. I am enjoying this.”

  “Enjoying it?” she gasped. “What is there to enjoy?”

  “Sense of adventure,” replied Carstairs. “And look at the cool, bright green of those palms and the colour of the water. It’s marvellous. But, above all and beyond all, I am enjoying the society.”

  Lady Penrose made a very creditable attempt to look bewildered.

  “Mind,” continued the other, “I am quite innocent in this affair; I had no more idea of being bundled into a boat like a truss of hay and landed here than you had, but the society of Lady Penrose compensates for everything.”

  “Mr. Carstairs!”

  “It’s true, and I had to say it. I’ve been wanting to say it for a long time.”

  “There’s no need to say it to Mudge,” retorted Lady Penrose, glancing at the tent.

  “Sorry,” said Carstairs, moving nearer to her, “but we are so far apart.”

  Lady Penrose drew back a little — perhaps a couple of feet. “But who is responsible for this?” she demanded. “Have the crew really mutinied?”

  Carstairs shook his head. “I know no more than you do,” he replied. “You heard all that passed so far as I’m concerned. Pope gave instructions as to details.”

  “Mr. Pope would never dream—” began Lady Penrose.

  “No, no,” said Carstairs. “It was real enough so far as I could see. And I must say that Tollhurst behaved splendidly. His behaviour was excellent. I was very pleased. He quite justified my opinion of him.”

  “I wonder whether he knew,” murmured Lady Penrose.

  “Nobody knew except ourselves and Pope,” replied Carstairs, “and the ladies were only informed just before it happened. This comes of playing with edged tools.”

  “All my fault,” said Lady Penrose, shaking her head. “I wonder you care to speak to me.”

  Carstairs laughed. “I would sooner talk to you than do anything else in the world,” he replied. “I am enjoying this amazingly. And you are not angry with me for — for telling you — how much I admire you?” Lady Penrose bit her lip. “Mr. Carstairs,” she said entreatingly, “if you only knew what ears Mudge has got!”

  “I understand,” said Carstairs, as he moved closer and led her along the beach. “Let’s see how far she can hear.”

  Their voices died away in the distance, and Miss Mudge, watching them from the tent, thought sadly of Mr. Markham, Mr. Biggs, a young man in the general shop at Berstead, and three members of the crew.

  CHAPTER XX

  MR. TARN, somewhat overcome at the success of his leadership, stood in the saloon surveying his helpless victims. The truculence had faded from his face, and given way to an expression of acute uneasiness. He had got to the end of his tether, and was now looking anxiously round in search of a prompter.

  “We don’t want any more violence,” said Knight, with a warning glance at him. “
These ladies had better go to the drawingroom.”

  “As you please, sir,” said the desperado mildly.

  “And don’t play with us,” proceeded Knight, winking at him. “It’s bad enough to be in your power without being played with like a cat with a mouse. We don’t want any of your infernal sarcasm.”

  “My wot?” said the amazed boatswain, as the ladies departed under escort.

  “I’m surprised at you, Tarn,” said Pope, in a deep voice.” It’ll be penal servitude for you for this.”

  “Or hanging,” said Talwyn grimly.

  The unfortunate boatswain looked round imploringly.

  “It’s no good using hard words,” said Knight, turning on Pope. “We’ve got to make the best of things.”

  “And keep this pirate in a good humour,” added the doctor, in a low voice. “Just get Talwyn and Peplow away while I reason with him. I think I understand his mentality. There’s no objection to these gentlemen going on deck, I suppose?” he said, turning to Mr. Tarn.

  “O’ course not,” said that gentleman effusively. “So long as they behave theirselves,” he added ferociously as Knight glanced at him.

  He stood tugging at his moustache and rolling his eyes as Pope, in a stately fashion, departed with his friends. Then his face relaxed and he gazed piteously at Knight.

  “Wot about the skipper, sir?” he inquired desperately.

  “What about him?” inquired Knight easily. “He’s fast enough, isn’t he?”

  “He’s fast enough, sir,” conceded the boatswain, “and Brown is standing on guard over him with the cook’s chopper. But wot’s to be done now?”

  Knight shook his head. “You are in charge,” he said slowly. “I know all about it. You have had your instructions from Mr. Pope and the skipper, haven’t you?”

  “In a roundabout way, yes,” replied Mr. Tarn; “but you heard wot Mr. Pope said about penal servitood just now.”

  “Only his fun; he has got to keep up appearances,” said Knight.

  “And I don’t like the way the skipper looks at me,” pursued Mr. Tarn, in an aggrieved voice.

  “Keeping up appearances,” said Knight, again. “What are you worrying about? He told you to pretend to head a mutiny, didn’t he?”

  Mr. Tarn nodded. “And he told the officers not to interfere,” he said, seeking to comfort himself. “And then Mr. Pope told me; and then Biggs come along and told me to do things that Mr. Pope and the skipper didn’t want to tell me themselves. I tell you, I’m fair muddled up with it all.”

  “You’re on velvet,” said Knight definitely. “Well, I wish I was off of it,” retorted the boatswain. “And wot I want to know is, wot’s to be done now? The first officer is shut up in his cabin and laying on ‘is back smoking; Captain Tollhurst is shut up in his cabin calling out for his boots and ‘is firearms, wot we took away from ‘im; and the skipper looks as if he might ‘ave a fit at any moment.”

  “I should carry on if I were you,” said Knight thoughtfully. “Take us for a little cruise in the neighbourhood, and return to the island to-morrow and pick up Mr. Carstairs and the others. And mind, whatever you do, don’t take any notice of anything Mr. Pope says; he has got to go on pretending, you know. He is not supposed to know anything about it. Let’s go up and see whether the boat is back yet.”

  He followed the boatswain on deck just as the boat came alongside. Mr. Minns, the second officer, with an odd grin on his good-tempered face, was gazing in a speculative fashion at the skipper and the uneasy-looking seaman who stood guard over him with the chopper.

  “Skipper plays his part well,” said Knight in a low voice.

  Mr. Minns, after a quick glance at him, nodded. “How many of you are in this?” he inquired. “And what’s the next thing? Do you scuttle the ship, or burn it? It’s all in the day’s work. Don’t mind me.”

  Knight shook his head. “I’m not sure,” he said slowly. “I imagine the skipper has got his instructions. He doesn’t look very comfortable; but I suppose we had better leave him alone. If he were released he would have to do something for the sake of appearances to get charge of his ship again.”

  “I’m not going to release him, if that’s what you are driving at,” said Mr. Minns hastily. “He told me I wasn’t to interfere; and I obey orders. If anybody had told me that the old man would let himself be handled like this I wouldn’t have believed him. Where’s the pleasure in it? That’s what I want to know. Where’s the pleasure?”

  He went back to the bridge, stopping on the way to receive instructions from a boatswain whose manner was an unhappy compromise between truculence and deference. The doctor came on deck as the yacht got under way again, and, walking with Knight past the skipper, took careful stock of that hapless mariner.

  “Vobster’s got to be untied,” he said, as soon as they were out of earshot. “It’s no position for a man of his years and temper; he’ll burst something if he has much more of it. Tell Tarn to take that fool with the chopper away, and leave me a clear deck.”

  He went below to his cabin, and then to the smoke-room and mixed a long whisky and soda. The ice in the tumbler tinkled pleasantly as he came out on deck and in a stealthy fashion made his way to the pinioned Vobster and sat down beside him.

  “Easy does it,” he said, in a low voice. “If I undo your mouth, will you promise not to make a noise?”

  The skipper, with his eyes glued to the tumbler, nodded vigorously, and Maloney, with a cautious look around, took off the gag and held the tumbler to his lips. Slowly the skipper’s head tilted backwards until not a drop of the precious fluid remained.

  “Good?” inquired the doctor, placing the glass on the deck.

  “Splendid,” murmured Vobster.” Cut these things away. Quick! Cut these — cut these — cut — cut—”

  “Bless my soul,” said Maloney, with a grin as Knight came up. “He’s gone to sleep.” He took out his knife and cut the bonds, and, the skipper being unable to do it for himself, straightened out his legs for him, and lowered his head to the deck. Then he signalled to Mr. Tarn, who, in a state of some trepidation, was watching the proceedings from afar off.

  “Get two or three of the hands and have him carried to bed,” he said, as the boatswain came up. “He’s tired.”

  “Yessir,” said Mr. Tarn doubtfully. “And suppose he wakes up while they are a-carrying of ‘im?”

  “He won’t,” said the doctor.

  “But s’pose he does?” persisted the other. The doctor rose to his feet and advanced on the boatswain, who backed hastily.

  “D’ye doubt my skill, you imitation pirate?” he demanded wrathfully. “Take him below, and look sharp about it.”

  He lent the procession his moral support by accompanying it below and adjuring it in forcible terms when it allowed the skipper’s head to come into violent contact with the side of his bunk. The boatswain saw fit to regard the incident in a favourable light.

  “Sleeping beautiful,” he said, with an admiring glance at the doctor. “I — I wonder whether Captain Tollhurst is thirsty?”

  The doctor, who was removing the skipper’s clothes preparatory to putting him to bed, looked up, and under the awful witchery of his glance Mr. Tarn, muttering broken apologies, backed out of the cabin and made his escape.

  By the time Maloney reached the deck again the island had almost disappeared, the tops of one or two palms being the only things in sight. In a short time they also vanished.

  “I suppose Minns will be able to find it again,” he said, turning to Knight.

  “He’ll have to,” was the reply.

  Maloney took his arm and paced him up and down the deserted deck. The third officer, who was in a state of sulky amazement, eyed them curiously as he passed on his way to the bridge.

  “And what do you expect to get out of all this?” inquired the doctor at last.

  Knight shrugged his shoulders. “They wanted a mutiny,” he said, “and I have given it to them. Also I have paid off a littl
e bit of my score to Lady Penrose. She got up the mutiny to take a rise out of Tollhurst, and instead of that she is made the victim of her own cleverness. Think how awkward it will be for her when she comes aboard again. She has got to sail all the way home with Tollhurst and the other people. She’ll see the joke in the face of every member of the crew, and I think she will be much too quiet and subdued to interfere with me much.”

  “Upon my word!” began the doctor, staring at him.

  “And the story will follow her home,” continued Knight, “with improvements, probably. She will be credited with having tried to kidnap Carstairs.”

  “I ought to have stopped it,” said Maloney, shaking his head.

  “That’s what will happen unless some good angel intervenes,” Knight went on.

  “Are you the good angel?” inquired the other crisply.

  Knight nodded. “I might be, if it’s made worth my while,” he replied. “I think I can handle the situation all right. As a preliminary I have just picked the skipper’s pocket. Pope told me of a little paper authorising the old man to permit the mutiny, which I thought might come in useful. Anyway, it’s safer with me.”

  “We’re a nice couple,” said Maloney, with a grin. “I hocus the man’s drink and you go through his trouser pockets. If other things fail we might go into partnership.”

  “To-morrow morning,” said Knight thoughtfully, “I propose to take possession of the ship and go back and rescue the victims. If they are not grateful — as grateful as I think they ought to be — I shall have to talk to them plainly. And now let us go and reassure the ladies.”

  They found the ladies in the drawing-room with Pope, Talwyn, and Peplow vainly endeavouring to explain a position that none of them understood. A little exclamation of joy from Mrs. Ginnell greeted their entrance.

  “Now tell us all about it,” she said, making room for Knight to sit beside her. “I’m sure you know. Has something gone wrong? Mr. Pope is a perfect sphinx.”

  “Not my fault,” grumbled Pope.

  “But you knew something about it,” said Mrs. Jardine. “You told us not to be frightened, and that the men were going to act a little play to us. How did you know about it?”