The Golden Age of Pulp Fiction Megapack 01

by George Allan England

  The old man tried to smile, but joviality was lacking. He closed the door and came over to the stove. The doctor followed him.

  “Ezra,” said he, “you don’t like me. No matter. You do like Captain Briggs, don’t you?”

  “That ain’t a question as needs answerin’,” returned Ezra, with suspicious eyes.

  “I like the captain, too,” continued Filhiol. “We’ve got to join hands to help him. And he’s in very, very serious trouble now.”

  “Well, what is it?” The old servitor sensed what was in the wind, and braced himself to meet it.

  “If it came to choosing between Hal and the captain, which would you stand by?”

  “That’s another question that ain’t needed!” retorted Ezra defiantly.

  “It’s got to be answered, though. Something critical has happened, Ezra, and we’ve got to take the bull by the horns.”

  “Better take the bull by the tail, doctor. Then you can let go without hollerin’ fer help.”

  “This is no time for joking, Ezra! Something has happened that, if the captain finds it out, will have terrible consequences. If he discovers what’s happened, I can’t answer for the consequences. It might even kill him, the shock might.”

  “Wha—what d’ you mean, sir?” demanded Ezra, going white. “What are you gammin’ about, anyhow?”

  “I might as well tell you, directly. Captain Briggs has just been robbed of more than five hundred dollars.”

  “Robbed! No! Holy haddock! You—don’t—”

  “Robbed,” asserted Filhiol. “More than five hundred dollars are gone from the safe, and—Hal’s gone, too.”

  “Dr. Filhiol, sir!” exclaimed the old man passionately, but in a low voice that could not reach the cabin. “That wun’t go here. You’re company, I know, but there’s some things that goes too doggone fur. Ef you mean to let on that Master Hal—”

  “The money’s gone, I tell you, and so is Hal. I know that!”

  “Yes, an’ I know Master Hal, too!” asseverated Ezra, manfully standing by his guns, not through any fear of Hal’s vengeance, but only for the honor of the house and of the boy he worshipped. “Ef you mean to accuse him of bein’ a thief, well then, me an’ you has nothin’ more to say. We’re docked, an’ crew an’ cargo is discharged right now. All done!”

  “Hold on, Ezra!” commanded Filhiol. “I’m not making any direct accusation. All I’m saying is that the money and Hal are both gone.”

  “How d’ you know the money’s gone? How come you to be at the cap’n’s safe an’ money-drawer?”

  “I—why—” stammered Filhiol, taken aback. “Why, the captain had me open it, to put in some receipts, and he told me how much he thought was there. I saw he was mistaken, by more than five hundred.”

  “Oh, you counted the cap’n’s money, did ye?” Ezra demanded boldly. “Well, that’s some nerve! In case it comes to a showdown, where would you fit? Looks like your fingers might git burned, don’t it?”

  “Mine? What do you mean, sir?”

  “Well, you was there, wa’n’t ye? An’ Master Hal wa’n’t, that’s all!” Swiftly Ezra was thinking. The loss, he knew, could not be kept from Captain Briggs. And Hal must be protected. Sudden inspiration dawned on him.

  “How much d’ you say is gone?” demanded he.

  “Five hundred and some odd dollars.”

  “Yes, that’s right,” said the old man, nodding. “Them’s the correct figgers, all right enough.”

  “How do you know?” exclaimed the doctor, staring.

  “Why hadn’t I ought to, when I took that there money myself?”

  “You?”

  “Me, sir! I’m the one as stole it, an’ what’s more, I got it now, up-stairs in my trunk!”

  Silence a moment while the doctor peered at him with wrinkled brow.

  “That’s not true, Ezra,” said he at last, meeting the old man’s defiant look. “You’re lying now to shield that boy!”

  “Lyin’, am I?” And Ezra reddened dully. “Dr. Filhiol, sir, ef you wa’n’t an old man, an’ hobblin’ on a cane, them ain’t the words you’d use to me, an’ go clear!”

  “I—I beg your pardon, Ezra,” stammered the doctor. “I’m not saying it in a derogatory sense.”

  “Rogatory or hogatory, don’t make a damn’s odds! You called me a liar!”

  “A noble liar. That kind of a lie is noble, Ezra, but very foolish. I understand you, all right. When I say you’re trying to shield Hal, I’ve hit the mark.”

  “You ain’t half the shot you think you be, sir! There’s lots o’ marksmen in this world can’t even make a gun go off, an’ yet they can’t miss fire in the next world. You’re one of ’em. I took the money, I tell ye, an’ I can prove it by showin’ it to you, in two minutes!”

  The old man, turning, started for the stairs.

  “Where are you going now?” demanded Filhiol.

  “To git that there money!”

  “Your own savings, no doubt? To shield Hal with?”

  “The money I stole, an’ don’t ye fergit it neither!” retorted Ezra with a look so menacing that the doctor ventured no reply. In silence he watched the old man, wet clothes still clinging to him, plod up the stairs and disappear.

  “Lord, if this isn’t a tangled web,” thought Filhiol, “what is? I ought never to have come. And yet I’m needed every minute, if a terrible catastrophe is to be turned aside!”

  His heart contracted at thought of the inevitable shock to Captain Briggs if he should discover the theft. Could Ezra conceal it, even with his savings? And, if he could, would it not be best to let him? Would not anything be preferable to having the captain’s soul wrung out of him? Sudden hate against the cause of all this misery flared up in him.

  “Great God!” he muttered. “If I only had that Hal for a patient, just one hour!”

  The footsteps of Ezra, descending again, roused him. In Ezra’s hand was gripped a roll of bills, old and tattered for the most part—a roll that counted up to some five hundred and thirty dollars, or to within about forty dollars of every cent Ezra had in the world. More than fifteen years of hard-earned savings lay in that roll. This money Ezra had hastily dug from under a lot of old clothes in his trunk. And now he shook it before the eyes of Filhiol, eager to sacrifice it.

  “Is that proof enough fer you now, or ain’t it?” Ezra exultantly demanded. “Dollar fer dollar, about, what the cap’n said had oughta be in the safe, an’ ain’t? Well, does that satisfy ye now?”

  Filhiol had no answer. His brain was whirling. Ezra laughed in his face.

  “I got your goat all right, old feller!” gibed he.

  “Ezra,” said the doctor slowly, “I don’t understand this at all. I’m no detective. This is too much for me. Either you’re a monumental fool or a sublime hero. Maybe both. I can’t judge. All I want to do is look out for Captain Briggs. I was his medical officer in the old days. Now I seem to be back on the job again. That’s all.”

  “Yes, an’ I’m on the job, too, an’ you’d better keep out o’ what don’t consarn ye,” menaced Ezra. “Every man to his job, an’ yours ain’t ratin’ down Master Hal an’ makin’ a thief of him!”

  “All right, Ezra. Put the money in the safe. Whether it’s yours or not, doesn’t matter now. It will protect the captain’s peace of mind a little longer, and that’s the main thing now.”

  Ezra nodded. Together they went quietly into the cabin. Watchfully they observed the captain. Face to the wall, he was profoundly sleeping.

  “It’s all right,” said Filhiol. “You can open the safe and put the money in.”

  Ezra advanced to it, on tiptoe. But Ezra did not open the safe. Puzzled, he stopped and whispered:

  “I—doggone it, I’ve fergot the combination now!”

  “Have, eh?” asked Filhiol with a sharp look. “Well then, all you’ve got to do is look at the paper.”

  “The—h-m!”

  “Of course you know he keeps it on a paper?”
said the doctor shrewdly.

  “Oh, sure, sure! But just now I disremember where that paper is!”

  Filhiol retreated to the dining-room, and beckoned Ezra to him.

  “See here,” said he in a low tone, “this game of yours is pitifully thin. Why don’t you own up to the truth? Your loyalty to Hal is wonderful. The recording angel is writing it all down in his big book; but you can’t fool anybody. Why, not even a child would believe you, Ezra, and how can I—a hard-shelled old man who’s knocked up and down the seven seas? You know perfectly well Hal Briggs stole that money. Own up now!”

  The old cook fixed a look of ire on him, and with clenched fist confronted Filhiol.

  “Doctor,” said he, “there’s two things makes most o’ the trouble in this here world. One is evil tongues, to speak ill o’ folks, an’ the other is evil ears, to listen. There’s jest two things you can’t do here—speak ill o’ the cap’n, an’ talk ag’in’ Master Hal. Ef you do, doc—it don’t signify ef you be old, I’ll make it damn good an’ hot fer you! Now, then, I’ve warned you proper. That’s all—an’ that’s enough!”

  “You don’t understand—” the doctor was just going to retort, when a trample of feet on the front porch brought him to silence.

  “There’s Master Hal now!” exclaimed the old cook, with an expression of dismay. “An’ the money ain’t back in the safe yit—an’ Master Hal’s li’ble to wake the cap’n up!”

  “He mustn’t wake him up!” said Filhiol. He turned, and, hobbling on his cane, started for the front door to head him off. Too late! Already Hal had flung off his cap and, stamping wet feet, had entered the cabin. The voice of the captain sounded:

  “Oh, that you, Hal? God above! but I’m glad to see you! Come here, boy, come here. I’ve got news for you. Great, good news!”

  CHAPTER XXXV

  TREACHERY

  Still in his dripping raincoat, Hal approached the berth.

  “Whew, but it’s hot and stifling in here, gramp!” said he. He turned and opened a window, letting the damp, chill wind draw through. “There, that’s better now. Well, what’s the big news, eh?”

  The old captain regarded him a moment, deeply moved. In the dining-room, Ezra had hastily stuffed the bills into his pocket. Now he was retreating to his galley. Filhiol, undecided what to do, did nothing; but remained in the front hall.

  “What’s the news?” repeated Hal. He looked disheveled, excited. “And what are you in bed for, this time of day?”

  His voice betrayed nothing save curiosity. No sympathy softened it.

  “The doctor made me turn in,” Briggs explained. “I got wet through, going to town. But it was all for you, boy. So why should I mind?”

  “For me, eh?” demanded Hal. “More trouble? Enough storm outside, without kicking up any more rows inside. Some weather, gramp! Some sailing weather, once a boat got out past the breakwater, where she could make her manners to the nor’east blow!” His tongue seemed a trifle thick, but the captain perceived nothing. “Well, gramp, what was the idea of going to town an afternoon like this?”

  “To set you on the right road again, boy.” The captain raised himself on one elbow, and peered at his beloved Hal. “To open up a better career for you than I had. No more sea-life, Hal. There’s been far too much salt in our blood for generations. It’s time the Briggs family came ashore. You’ve got better things ahead of you, now, than fighting the sea. Peel your wet coat off, Hal, and sit down. You’ll take cold, I’m afraid.”

  “Cold, nothing! This is the kind of weather I like!”

  He pulled up a chair by the berth, and flung himself down into it, hulking, rude, flushed. In the dim light old Captain Briggs did not see that telltale flush of drink. He did not note the sinister exultation in his grandson’s voice. Nor did he understand the look of Hal’s searching eyes that tried to fathom whether the old man as yet had any suspicions of the robbery.

  The captain reached out from the bedclothes he should have kept well over him, and laid his hand on Hal’s.

  “Listen,” said he, weak and shaken. His forehead glistened, damp with sweat. “It’s good news. I’ve been down to see Squire Bean. I’ve paid him the money for McLaughlin, and got a receipt for it, and the case against you is all settled. Ended!”

  “Is, eh?” demanded Hal, with calculating eyes. “Great! And the apology stuff is all off, too?”

  “Well, no, not that. Of course you’ve still got to apologize to him so all the crew can hear it. But that’s only a little detail. Any time will do. I know that after what I’ve sacrificed for you, boy, you’ll be glad to play the part of a man and go down there and apologize, won’t you?”

  “Surest little thing you know!” Filhiol heard him answer, with malice and deceit which Captain Briggs could not fathom. “The crew will hear from me, all right. Some of ’em have already. Yes, that’s a fact. I’ve already apologized to three of ’em. I’ll square everything, gramp. So that’s all settled. Anything more?”

  “You’re true metal, at heart!” murmured Briggs, shivering as the draft from the open window struck him. “Thank God for it! Yes, there’s one more thing. I’ve sent the money to the college. Sent a money-order, and got a receipt for that, too. Both receipts are in the money-drawer, in the safe.”

  “They are?” Hal could not dissemble his sudden anxiety. How much, now, did his grandfather know? Everything? Suspiciously he blinked at the old man. “So you put ’em in the safe, did you?” asked he, determined to force the issue.

  “The doctor did for me.”

  “Oh, he did, did he? H-m! Well, all right. What next?” Hal stiffened for the blow, but the captain only said:

  “It’s fine to have the whole thing cleaned up, so you can start on another tack!” The old man smiled with pitiful affection. “Everything’s coming out right, after all. You don’t know how wonderfully happy I am to-day. It won’t be long before I have you back in some other college again.”

  “The devil it won’t!” thought Hal. The doctor, at the rear of the hallway, felt a clutch on his arm. There stood old Ezra.

  “Doctor,” he whispered in a way that meant business, “you ain’t goin’ to stand here listenin’ to ’em, this way!”

  “I’m not, eh?” And Filhiol blinked astonishment. “Why not?”

  “There’s ten reasons. One is, because I ain’t goin’ to let you, an’ the other nine is because I ain’t goin’ to let you! I wouldn’t do it myself, an’ you ain’t goin’ to, neither. Will you clear out o’ here, peaceful, or be you goin’ to make me matt onta you an’ carry you out?”

  The doctor hesitated. Ezra added:

  “Now, doc, don’t you git me harr’d up, or there’ll be stormy times!”

  Filhiol yielded. He followed Ezra to the galley, where the old man practically interned him. Inwardly he cursed this development. What might not happen, were the captain now to discover the loss of the money while Hal was there? But to argue with Ezra was hopeless. Filhiol settled down by the stove and resigned himself to moody ponderings.

  “This summer, take things easy,” the captain was saying, with indulgence. “In the fall you’ll enter some other college and win honors as we all expect you to. So you’ll be glad to go, won’t you, Hal?”

  “I’ll be glad to go, all right!”

  “That’s fine!” smiled the captain. He got out of bed in his bathrobe, slid his feet into slippers, and stood there a moment, looking at Hal.

  “Boy,” said he, “on the way back from town I made up my mind to do the right thing by you, to give you something every young fellow along the coast ought to have. You were asking me for a boat, and I refused you. I was wrong. Nothing finer, after all, than a little cruising up and down the shore. I’ve changed my mind, Hal.” He laid an affectionate hand on the boy’s shoulder. “I’m going to give you the money for Gordon’s Kittiwink.”

  “Huh?” grunted Hal, standing up in vast astonishment and anxiety.

  “Take the money, Hal, and buy your hear
t’s dearest wish,” said the old captain. “It’ll maybe pinch me, for a while, but you’re all I’ve got to love and some way I can rub along. If I can give you a happy summer the few hundred dollars won’t mean much, after all. So, boy, get yourself the boat. Why, what’s the matter? You look kind of flabbergasted, Hal. Aren’t you glad and thankful?”

  “Surest thing you know, I am!” the boy rallied with a strong effort. “It’s great of you, gramp! But—can you afford it?”

  “That’s for me to judge, Hal,” smiled the captain, shivering as the draft struck him. He turned towards the safe. Hal detained him with a hand upon his arm.

  “Don’t give it to me just yet,” said he, anxiously. “Wait a little!”

  “No, no, that wouldn’t be the same at all,” insisted Briggs. “I want you to have this present now, to-day, to make you always remember your fresh start in life.”

  “Not to-day, gramp!” exclaimed Hal. “I don’t feel right about it, and—and I can’t accept it. I want to make a really new start. To make my own way—be a man, not a dependent! Please don’t spoil everything the first minute by doing this!”

  “But, Hal—”

  “I know how you feel,” said the boy, with feverish energy. “But I’ve got feelings, too, and now you’re hurting them. Please don’t, grandfather! Please let me stand on my own feet, and be a man!”

  Old Briggs, who had with feeble steps made his way half across the floor, turned and looked at Hal with eyes of profound affection.

  “God bless you, boy!” said he with deep emotion. “Do you really mean that?”

  “Of course I do! Come, get back into bed now. You’re taking cold there. Get back before you have another chill!”

  Anxiously he led the captain back towards the berth. His touch was complete betrayal. Into his voice he forced a tone of caressing sincerity, music to the old man’s ears.

  “I’ve learned a great deal the last day or two,” said he, as with traitor solicitude he put the captain into his berth, and covered him up. “I’ve been learning some great lessons. What you said to me up there among the graves, has opened my eyes.”