“Oh, the scoundrel, if he falls into my hands I will shoot him as I would a mad dog.”
De Vilène examined the irons. Barrachon bent over beside him. The whole thing was a great mystery, entirely incomprehensible. The rod was still locked, the bloodstained shackles, the bar, the padlock were in their places just as they were when the Captain verified them a little more than an hour previously. And he had not let the key out of his possession for a second. But their bewilderment was nothing to the feeling of stupefaction which followed. There was no clue in the cell that could explain the flight. From which side had the prisoner got out? It would need a very clever person to offer a reasonable surmise. The walls were nowhere broken through. The decks above and below were intact. The heavy fastenings inside and outside the door had not been tampered with. And Chéri-Bibi could not have escaped by a door outside which a guard was continuously passing to and fro. Moreover, he could not have wormed his way into the closed alley-way, where he would have stumbled against half a dozen other guards. How had he made his escape?
“It’s enough to send one off one’s head,” muttered the Captain. “However much of a scoundrel he is, he is not the devil.”
“Yes, he is the devil,” declared de Vilène. “But that doesn’t help us for all that.”
They determined to question the warder, and they beckoned him to come to the cell. The man at once stumbled against the dead bodies. He started back in dismay.
“These are your comrades. Chéri-Bibi killed them,” said the Captain.
“Poor fellows!” he said in a choking voice “They were expecting it.”
“What do you mean, ‘they were expecting it?’”
“When they came on guard Chéri-Bibi said to them: ‘Oh, it’s you. It’s a bad lookout for you.’ And before I locked them in they said to me: ‘What’s he up to? He’s going to play some dirty trick on us.’ I laughed at them and had a look at the irons. I pointed to their revolvers and I said: ‘What are you afraid of? He has his paws in a trap, and you are two against one.’ And then I locked the door.” —
“Didn’t you hear anything?”
“Not a sound. No one stirred. They didn’t cry out. There wasn’t so much as a breath.... Oh, the poor fellows!... But how did Chéri-Bibi get out?”
“Listen, Pascaud. I trust you,” said the Captain. “If it were not you, I should believe that you were an accomplice.”
“Accomplice of what, Captain?... There’s no possibility of being an accomplice here. We watch each other. We are all of us after each other. I’ve not left the alley-way; the warders can tell you so. And even if I’d opened the door to Chéri-Bibi, it wouldn’t explain anything. I haven’t got the key of the irons. And how did he kill two men who were armed, men who were watching him, please believe me? Do you suggest that I killed my comrades? If so, you should say so.”
“Silence, Pascaud. You know very well that that’s merely a manner of speaking. We don’t know how he got out.”
“No; but I had to say something,” returned the warder. “He wasn’t carried off by the wind, what? Well, devil take it, it’s a nice thing.”
He too searched the cell for an outlet, a hole of some sort.... And like the officers he found nothing.
“It’s past belief,” he said, more amazed than frightened. “Well, shall I tell you what I think? The men above in the cages knew about it beforehand.
.. I’m sure they got wind of it. Take it from me, they’ve been expecting it. They’ve been too pleased with themselves, having the time of their lives during the last forty-eight hours. And as I said to myself this morning, it’s not natural; they’re faking up something. Keep your eyes open!... And if you’ll allow me, Captain, I’ll make a suggestion. We can get to know things through them. We must listen to them, that’s all.”
“They’re holding their tongues above now,” said the Captain in a hollow and threatening voice.
“Oh, let ’em have a walk on the upper decks without rousing their suspicions. Believe me, that’s where the exchange of secrets takes place.... I have an idea that they communicate with one another when they’re on deck.... At any rate they exchange letters there, you know.... And I swear, Captain, that in most cases it’s not our fault. It’s the sailors’ fault.”
“How do you mean? Look here, explain yourself. What you tell me is very serious.”
“Isn’t the death of our comrades serious?... I say again that the sailors and the women are to blame. Now you’ve got it, Captain.... I tell you that the men and the women are exchanging love letters all the time. They give the glad eye on deck, and write to each other below just as I say. And the sailor is the postman. A scrap of paper is quickly thrown or slipped between two bars, you know.... And the women pay for the sailor’s complicity.”
“What do you mean?” asked de Vilène, who had always suspected something of the kind but had not been able to catch them in the act in spite of extreme vigilance.
“What do I mean?... Well, the cells have something to do with it, I assure you.”
“The cells!”
“Yes, the women’s cells.... There are women who get themselves sent to the cells so as to be able to talk more freely.”
“Let’s have this out.... Speak more plainly.”
“Well, it’s like this. Their game is a very simple one, and they play it under our noses. When the sailor and the woman, thanks to those scraps of paper, have come to an understanding between themselves, the woman knows what she’s got to do... get herself sent down for insubordination, that’s all.... Now the cell remains unlocked when no one is in it. So the sailor finds his way into it, and lies down in the corner containing the sleeping-bench, or rather, under the head-rest. It’s as dark as pitch. The woman is brought in and locked up with the sailor. The thing’s not so very hard to manage.”
“You, Pascaud, you knew about it and you did not report it! You deserve a week in irons,” growled the Captain.
De Vilène checked him in his sudden fit of severity.
“What this man says is very important.... How did you discover all this?”
“Oh, I saw it for myself, and I wasn’t overproud of it at the time, I can assure you, Captain. It happened three days ago. I was on my rounds seeing to the cleanliness of the ship, a duty that is only done every three days. I and my men had got to the cells, and I pinched an offender who was still in the corner.”
“Why didn’t you bring him before me?” demanded Barrachon.
“Well, sir, because as it happened it was a military overseer this time.”
“A military overseer! All the more reason for reporting him. You are a sergeant. You deserve to be reduced to the ranks. Give me his name at once.”
“Yes, sir. His name is Francesco and he’s a Porto Vecchio man.”
“Francesco? Do you know him, de Vilène?”
“Yes, Captain,” replied the Lieutenant. “I know him. Here he is.” So saying, de Vilène pointed with his foot to one of the bodies on the floor of the cell.
“He has paid the penalty,” groaned Pascaud. “Now I can give him away, poor fellow. But you may be certain that he would never have done it if the sailors hadn’t shown him the way. He wanted to take advantage of the opportunity like the others. Oh, it’s awful. How can such things be.... And now he’s punished for it. I said to him:— ‘Mind what you’re doing, Francesco, it’ll bring you bad luck to have anything to do with the prisoners.’ But he was that way inclined, and liked to show off when his duty took him near the women’s cage. Look here, there was one to whom he never failed to say a pleasant word and to show some indulgence. I can tell you about it now that he is dead. It was that black-eyed she-wolf, you know, the Kanaka’s wife. But of course you don’t know her.... Well, they call her the Countess. By the way, she was sent, down to the cells only a little while ago.”
“The woman who made a grab at you, Captain,” said de Vilène.
“Oh yes, a regular she-wolf.”
“But I say,” exc
laimed Pascaud, “he must have heard something. She’s in the next cell.”
On the Captain’s orders they at once left Chéri-Bibi’s cell and entered that of the Countess. No sound came from the cell, nor did the prisoner show any sign of life. They were astonished, and it was with growing anxiety that they threw a light in the corners. The Countess was no longer there.
“Well, this is about the limit!” exclaimed the Sergeant.
The Lieutenant did not say a word, but carefully pushed aside the plank which was used as a sleeping-bench, and a flash of light from his dark lantern, turned towards the deck, showed the Captain a gap large enough to permit anyone to slip through. Barrachon and the Sergeant were about to utter an exclamation, but the Lieutenant, with a quick gesture, stopped them.
De Vilène at once put out his lantern and the three men left the cell on tiptoe. Quietly they locked the door. The guards on duty in the alleyway were greatly perplexed by these various movements, and halted in their everlasting march up and down.
“Keep moving. What are you standing there for?” whispered the Lieutenant.
The men once more started to pound the deck with their heavy tread.
Barrachon realized the position. The convicts must not suspect that they were discovered, if it could be avoided. The three men were at one in agreeing that Chéri-Bibi and the Countess had escaped through the hole.
They could not imagine how Chéri-Bibi had shaken off his warders, or how he had joined the Countess; but they felt certain that both convicts had gone down that way. And they concentrated their thoughts on the problem of how to catch them again. The cavity ran down to the old small arms magazine which had been transformed into a goods hold, and almost entirely filled with bales intended for merchants in Cayenne. Though the convicts might find places in which to hide themselves, they would not be able to hold out for any length of time, because they would inevitably be surrounded and discovered.
They would attempt to take the convicts unawares by using the ladder which led direct to the storerooms, for they must not think of descending through the hole. Otherwise the entire crew would have to go through the mill and be killed one by one. Chéri-Bibi was not in the habit of doing things by halves.
The Captain, impelled by the necessity for action, desired to descend the ladder at once, but de Vilène persuaded him to listen to reason, and a body of ten warders were brought along, without any attempt at secrecy, by Pascaud, who went to fetch them as if he wanted them for some ordinary duty.
He merely told them to go below with their rifles, an order which did not excite any surprise inasmuch as all the men in this floating barracks were armed. The convicts watched the men pass as though it were an everyday sight, without expressing the slightest astonishment or the smallest curiosity. But in the financiers’ cage the convict called the Top, of hilarious temper, and a fraudulent banker by trade, gave utterance to the fantastic and insufferable chuckle which always maddened the guard. The Captain told the men the truth. They gazed at each other with terror in their eyes. They would have to fight Chéri-Bibi, who was armed and had taken refuge in the old small arms magazine after murdering two of their number. They were, without doubt, burning for revenge, but what a piece of work it was! How were they to set about it? The very simple plan, the too simple plan, which the Captain explained to them, — was received with a wry face. If Chéri-Bibi were discovered, and gave himself up without resistance, his life was to be spared! He would be tried in accordance with the regulations, and executed in accordance with the law. If he defended himself, then, — of course, he was to be given no quarter. He was to be shot on the spot.
“Have you anything else to suggest, my dear de Vilène?” asked the Captain, turning to the Lieutenant in accordance with his usual custom and system of consulting the junior officers on the measures, even of the gravest kind, which had to be taken in common.
It was not that the worthy man was lacking in initiative or feared to assume responsibility; but he wanted everything that happened on board between him and his subordinates to be done, as he said, “on a family basis,” and “under the auspices of an entirely paternal discipline.”
De Vilène was boiling with impatience. He felt with reason that they were wasting time, but since his advice had been asked, he gave it.
“It’s not a question of Chéri-Bibi probably defending himself, he will certainly defend himself. What has he to gain by sparing us? Absolutely nothing. His fate is settled in any event. He is a wild beast at bay. Before he is killed he will be intent on one thing only — shooting down as many of us as he possibly can. Don’t let us, therefore, play his game by exposing ourselves to his shots. My opinion is that as soon as we open the hatch we should sweep the field by firing, as quickly as possible, a volley round the ladder and then rushing down into the hold.”
The Captain replied:
“I shall lead the way and call upon him to surrender, and you must follow me.”
“Very good, Captain.”
The convict guards were literally trembling at the thought of the adventure, so greatly had Chéri-Bibi spread terror among them.
De Vilène had already ordered them to bring torches and lanterns, so that each man should be able to light his own way.
Taking Pascaud aside he said:
“You are posted on guard here and must stay here. Watch the hole quietly with a couple of men. If Chéri-Bibi and the woman try to come up this way, shoot them.”
Pascaud replied in a gloomy voice that the Lieutenant could rely on him.
At the moment when they were about to uncover the hatch, the Captain informed the men that Chéri-Bibi was not alone, but was below with a woman whose life it was desirable to spare.
“Not a bit of it!” growled the convict guards when they learnt that they had the Countess to deal with. “She is probably more to be dreaded than the other.”
In the midst of perfect silence they removed the hatch over the ladder. The Captain descended the first few rungs, holding on with one hand and carrying his revolver in the other.
“No. 3216, I call upon you to surrender!” he shouted in a dull voice.
The light from the torches illuminated only a small part of the hold, but they were able to distinguish bales in monotonous heaps carefully stowed and trimmed on either side of the little wooden gangway, called the platform deck of the hold, which led to the ladder. A few yards away the darkness was impenetrable, and throughout the hold an awful silence prevailed. Nothing broke the stillness, not even the sound of men breathing at the top of the ladder. The life of every man seemed suspended over this cavity, this mysterious abyss, where death was already casting its shadows.
The Captain remained there, unprotected, his body presenting itself to the shots of the terrible Chéri-Bibi and the she-wolf who was with him.
“Look out!” cried the Lieutenant suddenly. “Look out, Captain. Something stirred over there behind that bale.”
There was no need to order the men to fire. A tremendous report rang out in the hold. The warders had aimed their rifles over the heads of the two officers in the direction of the bale to which the Lieutenant had pointed.
The Captain and the Lieutenant leapt down the ladder. The men scrambled after them. And for a moment they stood in a group behind the Captain, who stopped them with outstretched arms.
The torches held aloft by the men threw back the darkness a few yards on the main gangway above the deck.
And as soon as the noise and reverberation of the heavy explosion died away, the obscurity once more became hushed and mysterious and menacing.
Then Barrachon repeated his summons.
“No. 3216, will you surrender?”
But whether it was that he refused to surrender or could not hear, No. 3216 did not answer.
“Forward!” ordered the Captain. “Search everywhere.”
The guards followed closely on the heels of their officers.
In reality the examination of the hold was not so
complicated as at first sight might have been thought. The merchandise was stowed away so symmetrically that it was impossible to slip one’s hand in between two bales or two boxes. The trim of the hold had been scientifically effected so as to prevent any sort of accident to the freight.
By de Vilène’s orders — he himself was on his feet — the men went down on their knees on the platform-deck of the hold, crawling on all fours like animals over the wooden hatches on the floor of the ship. The platform ran crosswise, two branches going from port to starboard and two others running from fore to aft. It did not take long to search the unoccupied space in the fore hold. They saw nothing, were stopped by nothing.
“They must be here,” muttered the Captain. “They can’t have got away, unless they’ve gone up through their hole.”
“That’s impossible,” declared de Vilène. “Pascaud is on the lookout above with two men.”
“Then they can’t have escaped. We must search again. The store-room has no other outlet. It is absolutely closed. They must he here.”
Several bales which seemed to jut beyond the trim of the hold were moved, but nothing suspicious was discovered, and they were replaced in their positions. A few casks were likewise clumsily rolled aside. Nothing was behind them.
De Vilène displayed the greatest energy, and rummaged in the darkness with systematic thoroughness. His search was no more successful than that of his men.
Suddenly a pistol shot echoed, and a bullet whistled past the Captain’s ear. All the men fired, and there was a terrific uproar and confusion. What were they firing at? In what direction? It was a veritable miracle that no one was killed on the spot.
Nevertheless a man lay groaning in the hold. They rushed up to him. He had received a bullet in his arm; a bullet fired by a fellow-warder. He explained that it was he who had fired the first shot; and the bullet must have rebounded past the Captain. What had he fired on? He could not say exactly; apparently a shadow had slipped between his legs, the shadow of a huge rat which disappeared under a plank. Then it was discovered when the plank was pulled up that it opened on to the main bilge.
Collected Works of Gaston Leroux Page 141