Chéri-Bibi pushed open the door of the cabin wherein the statue stood, needing but one word to come to life again. And he threw this word at him.
“Come,” he said.
The Kanaka unfolded his arms, held out his hand to Chéri-Bibi, who grasped it warmly.
And they parted without a word.
On deck the entertainment was “in full swing,” as the saying goes. Mesdames d’Artigues, de Valrieu and de Fontainebleau, in their tent, were in a state of mind which approximated more and more to a feeling of dismay, for they became aware that practically they were prisoners, notwithstanding the strange words of politeness which the even stranger naval officer lavished on them from time to time. They had in vain endeavored to steal away. On the plea that the intense excitement of the crew would only increase, and that it would be dangerous for them to attempt to go, they were not allowed to move. The tumult of fierce shouting and foul songs reached their ears, and they threw themselves, affrighted, into each other’s arms.
They called out loudly for the Marquis and the Baron and Robert and d’Artigues. Thus it was with a sense of relief that they saw Robert and d’Artigues hurrying in. But their joy was of short duration.
Robert and d’Artigues had been as startled as they were by all that they had seen and heard.
After the outbreak in Chéri-Bibi’s presence in the cages down below, they determined to obtain some clear idea of the position, and with that object they made their way into certain parts of the ship from which previously, it would appear, they had been deliberately excluded. They had thus been able to witness some rather amazing sights.
To begin with, they noticed that there was an incredible confusion and lack of discipline. Moreover, they had come upon a cordon of convict guards, who prevented them from setting foot into the alley-ways and cabins whence they could hear the cries and groans of women and children; of women calling for their husbands, and children calling to their fathers.
When they sought to obtain some explanation, they were ordered to leave, the men jeering at them in ominous fashion and advising them, in their own interests, to show a little less curiosity in future. Bourrelier and d’Artigues, in trembling voices, had reached this point in their disclosures when Baron Proskof came in. He was in a state of such terror that he could not at first utter a word. Finally, they heard him stammer:
“The Marquis... the Marquis...”
“What about the Marquis?” asked the beautiful Madame d’Artigues, in anguished tones.
“Well, the Marquis has disappeared.”
“How do you mean disappeared?”
“He disappeared before my eyes.... I can’t explain it at all. I thought he was still with me. We were in the alley-way, not far from my cabin, talking of one thing and another, for we had slipped away from that awful entertainment, and suddenly, when I turned round, he was no longer standing beside me. I looked about, I went into the cabins, I shouted his name. He answered me, but his voice came from the distance, and after a moment he was silent, and it seemed as if he were choking.
“He was undoubtedly the victim of some aggression. The unfortunate thing is that I did not manage to get a clear idea of the exact spot where he was. The ship seems to be run as if the whole business is a matter of play-acting. Abominable things are happening round us.
“Into what sort of hands have we fallen? The convict guards are as much to be feared as the convicts themselves. Besides, where is the Captain? We can’t see him. I tried to talk to the officers.... They’re drunk.... It was only with great difficulty that I reached this place. We must get away from here. The whole thing is awful....”
At this point the entrance to the tent was lifted and two of the three sailors belonging to the Belle of Dieppe, who had come on board the Bayard with them, rushed in. Their mate had just been stabbed in the heart and killed by one of the ruffians who was trying to take his lady partner from him. And as they attempted to avenge him, other ruffians sprang at them, and gave the whole game away. The Bayard was in the hands of convicts, and the man who had received them, as Captain, was neither more nor less than Chéri-Bibi. Chéri-Bibi himself!
Madame d’Artigues sank to the floor in a faint. Carmen and Nadège uttered piercing shrieks. At the same moment their improvised tent was flooded by a yelling mob, who carried the three of them on to the platform, where they were exhibited to the fierce curiosity and longings of a crew of raving madmen.... They were about to draw lots for them!...
Nevertheless, it was beyond doubt that the result of the draw would not be respected. Already those infernal faces were bending over the poor women, clutching them, snatching at them, quarreling over them.
The gang of exasperated convicts who were unable to mount the platform, seeing that the men around had seized the women without further ado, and without a word about the lottery, let themselves go in infuriated shouts and protests. The hapless women were about to vanish under the constantly increasing flood of convicts and be stifled to death when an interruption occurred which saved them.
A meteor passed through the crowd. There was a tremendous pressure, and convicts fell in heaps from the platform, leaving sufficient room for Chéri-Bibi’s immense fists to have full play and to let fly with the force of catapults.
Oh, he was always a brave sight in battle was the terrible Chéri-Bibi! What a number of broken noses, torn ears, black eyes! What bloodshed and shouts and maledictions! But what a splendidly quick clearance. How they applauded him. All the men who were unable to get near the platform, and had abandoned hope of receiving any share in the spoils, cheered him to the echo.... And the casualties crawling along the deck were turned into a general laughing-stock. And convicts know how to laugh.
Chéri-Bibi called for silence. He was standing on the evacuated platform in front of the three terrified and trembling women, who hardly ventured to thank their deliverer. For, after all, what was he about to say? To what new torment were they to be doomed?
“My dear pals,” said Chéri-Bibi, “I have been thinking things over. As these women can’t belong to all of you, they shan’t belong to anyone (thunders of applause). I shall keep them for myself... (silence) with the sole object of preventing any harm coming to them... (murmurs) for I have just pledged myself to land them and the castaways from the Belle of Dieppe safe and sound at a time and place which will be fixed at the next conference (threatening demonstrations. Chéri-Bibi folds his arms). Who dares to raise his voice when I am speaking? The idiots among you do well to keep their mouths shut, for I have serious things to say to them. We must turn over a new leaf. You must become men of character, self-possessed and steady, because you are rich. The Marquis du Touchais, whom we have had the honor of welcoming on board, agrees, in accordance with my suggestion, to ransom the persons saved from the Belle of Dieppe for a sum of five million francs.”
At first there was a feeling of stupefaction, not unmingled with fear, before this yawning gulf... five million francs.... They were dazed. And then they came to themselves and understood, and they burst forth into yells and stamped their feet and danced about like madmen.... They wanted to carry Chéri-Bibi shoulder high. He had the greatest difficulty in saying a word, a word to close the mouths of those fatuous imbeciles who never understood anything.
“My pals,” he cried, “one last word. It is understood that the Marquis will not be released until we receive the five million francs. It is five million francs, or death” (tremendous applause).
“Well, Dodger, what do you think of that?” asked Little Buddha, as he dealt a heavy but friendly blow on the baker man’s shoulder, making him wince.
“I know my Chéri-Bibi,” replied the Dodger, with a faint smile. “It will be five millions and death.”
CHAPTER XIII
THE KANAKA’S EXPERIMENT
DURING THE FOLLOWING days a considerable change came over life in general on board. Order and discipline held undisputed sway. Now that the convicts knew that they were rich, they welcomed
almost with gladness the necessity of conforming to regularity and method.
They worked with a will for the well-being and safety of the ship.
The Bayard was re-christened Estrella, and flew the Argentine flag. Sure of his men henceforward, Chéri-Bibi relaxed from time to time the vigilance to which the families of the oversers had up to then been subjected. The women and children were permitted, as before, to play and gossip on the quarter-deck which was reserved for them during certain hours of the day. The prisoners were well treated and allowed out of the cages now and then, so as to have a breath of fresh air on the upper deck. The men with families on board were granted the right to communicate with them.
True, the landing of the prisoners was deferred to some indefinite and far distant date. This and many other matters had been decided at a conference which lasted for some time and to which most of the hotheads among the convicts were convened.
As a matter of fact it was impossible to set anyone whatever at liberty until the famous five million francs were received. Such a course would have proclaimed to the world, which believed that the Bayard had perished with all hands, that she was still sailing the seas with her cargo of convicts.
Later on, when they felt some sense of security and were rich and safely sheltered in the Malay Archipeligo, they would rid themselves of those embarrassing human packages whom they were obliged to maintain from the ship’s stores. Fortunately the provisions appeared to be inexhaustible, and it would be easy to replenish them, by force if necessary, from one of the defenseless towns on the African coast where European civilization had set up its stores.
The main thing was to land, at the earliest moment, Chéri-Bibi’s lieutenant, who was to bring back the five millions.
Their choice had fallen on the Dodger, who had given proof of unbounded devotion to his chief, and who had been the main factor in liberating the convicts. Moreover, it was conveyed to him that convict law would follow him in whatever part of the world he might be, if he failed to run straight and to conduct himself like an honest man.
The Dodger knew enough of the men with whom he had to deal to realize that it was impossible for him to escape their vengeance when once they had pronounced judgment. Moreover, he loved but one being on earth, and that being was Chéri-Bibi.
He would have preferred not to be parted from him, but Chéri-Bibi had given the word and there was nothing for it but to obey.
The Marquis du Touchais made every arrangement to render the Dodger’s mission an easy one. The Dodger would leave the ship possessed of the necessary papers and instructions. It would be his business to see the Marchioness and a certain solicitor in Paris. Both of them would be apprised by him, and receive written statements from the Marquis, warning them that the slightest indiscretion would cost Chéri-Bibi’s prisoners their lives.
The reason why the amount of the ransom had been fixed by Chéri-Bibi at five million francs only was that as a result of the Marquis’s representations, it was regarded as impossible for Cecily and the solicitor in Paris to realize a greater sum in bank notes in the comparatively short time — a few months only — which was allotted to the Dodger in which to complete the transaction. The bank notes would have to be changed gradually by the Dodger, before the Marquis’s liberation, so that there might be no question later of any trouble over the numbers. In short, they believed that they had omitted no precaution.
For a time they were inclined to entrust this difficult mission to Chéri-Bibi’s sister, St. Mary of the Angels, but not only was the poor girl in an alarming state of weakness, but Chéri-Bibi refused to allow her to be mixed up in this “murderous business,” as he called it in moments of nervous strain.
They were steaming at full speed for Cape Town, and life on board was becoming somewhat monotonous when an extraordinary incident occurred which threw the crew in general and the Dodger in particular into a condition of unspeakable ferment.
It may be mentioned that no one had set eyes on the Marquis again, not even his friends who were free to live on board as they pleased. They waited upon themselves, rarely addressing a word even to those with whom they came in contact, and whom, for that matter, they regarded with feelings of dread. But they were not allowed to go near the spot where they were informed the Marquis was confined. No one except the Kanaka, the Countess and Chéri-Bibi was entitled to see him. It was said that the Marquis had been relegated to a large dark cabin, next to the sickbay, but that he was entirely isolated from the sick bay itself by a makeshift partition.
Outside the door of this cabin an orderly was posted whose instructions were to fire on any person attempting to approach the door.
Chéri-Bibi made an official explanation of the reason of this isolation. The Marquis was suffering from a contagious disease.
It was at first thought that they had to do with cholera or yellow fever or something of that sort, but when they saw the Kanaka and the Countess go backwards and forwards, tending the patient in what was a dangerous illness, and Chéri-Bibi visiting him, without taking any precaution, the crew quickly came to the conclusion that it was not a question of a sick person in the cabin, but of a prisoner representing five million francs who was being guarded with all the honors and attentions due to his rank and fortune.
The thought that possibly the Marquis was really ill, and that his illness might lead to death, did not unduly worry the convicts, for they were aware that Chéri-Bibi had already in his possession the papers containing the Marquis’s signature, and that if by ill-luck he were to die, they would none the less receive the five millions even if they were reduced to handing over a corpse in exchange. But the much more simple idea of a carefully guarded prisoner, which occurred to them afterwards, afforded them considerable amusement. And they smilingly asked Chéri-Bibi from time to time for news of the Marquis. Chéri-Bibi himself, however, did not smile.
Far from it. They had never known him so sparing of words. Moreover, he was hardly ever seen, but was waited upon in his own cabin, replying in monosyllables to the Dodger’s anxious questions, and never leaving ids cabin except to go to the Marquis or visit his sister.
One evening the Dodger, who was looking out for him, feeling more and more perplexed by his curious attitude and his appearance of painful abstraction, saw him go into the Marquis’s cabin with the Kanaka and the Countess, but waited in vain for him to come out again. The Dodger was determined to ask a few serious questions, for he feared that Chéri-Bibi might fall ill.
The Dodger’s anxiety was greatly increased when, about four o’clock in the morning, he saw the Countess come out of the cabin, her sleeves turned back to the elbows, and her face showing signs of agitation. He ran up to her at the risk of being shot by the orderly on guard. The Countess pushed him aside, hastened to her own cabin, and appeared again, with a small chest which she concealed under a shawl, returning once more to the Marquis’s cabin.
Up to eight o’clock in the morning no one had yet been seen again.
At length the Countess appeared accompanied by the Kanaka, who had a peculiar expression on his face. Nevertheless they both seemed quite selfpossessed. They answered the Dodger’s questions about Chéri-Bibi by stating that he was quite well though slightly exhausted by his work with the Marquis, but there was no cause for alarm.
“You should tell him to be sensible and take a rest,” groaned the Dodger.
“Chéri-Bibi is man enough to look after himself,” returned the Kanaka in icy tones. And he passed on without another word.
The Dodger stood facing the mysterious cabin whose silence terrified him. No sound emerged from it. Even when the Marquis was in it alone, the Dodger could not pass its precincts without a shudder. And now a terrible anxiety held him in its grip as he thought that Chéri-Bibi, like the Marquis, might never come out of it again. A few minutes later an orderly appeared and requested the Dodger to leave the place.
The morning of the next day passed amid fears that could not but increase. The Dodger
questioned the guards who had been on duty at the door, but the men replied that they had not seen Chéri-Bibi go in or out. Where was he? Obviously he was still in the cabin. And what was he doing there? The extraordinary thing was that during the last twenty-four hours no food had been taken into the cabin. The Dodger’s alarm was imparted, by degrees, to the entire crew. Chéri-Bibi was no longer to be seen. They wanted to see him. They would have questioned the Kanaka and the Countess, but they too had been shut up in their cabin for hours, and were as invisible as the Marquis and Chéri-Bibi.
Excitement reached its limit when the Toper, in the presence of the officers gathered together for lunch in the ward-room, opened and read a communication which the orderly on duty outside the cabin had just delivered to him. The letter contained three brief sentences from Chéri-Bibi: “You are instructed to obey the Kanaka in all things until you see me again. The Kanaka will merely transmit my orders to you. To obey the Kanaka is to obey Chéri-Bibi.” Under the three sentences was Chéri-Bibi’s signature; and then followed a few lines in the Kanaka’s handwriting:
“The Countess and I are taking care of Chéri-Bibi, who has caught the Marquis’s fever through looking after him. Chéri-Bibi’s life is not in danger, but it is impossible for us to leave him at the moment. I ask the Toper and the officers to remove any fears entertained by the crew.”
The convicts looked at each other askance. The Dodger, who had come in for news, read and re-read the communication. The whole thing seemed so mysterious that no one ventured to put forward any theory. The crew at once found themselves in a state of helplessness, and a heavy gloom prevailed on board. Chéri-Bibi was ill. There was not a man among the convicts who would not have given a limb to save his life. It was certain that cholera was on board. And to think that they had been under the impression that the whole thing was make-believe!
Collected Works of Gaston Leroux Page 158