The Golden Age of Pulp Fiction Megapack 01

by George Allan England

  “And there’s nothing you can do? Nothing you’ll let me do?”

  “There’s nothing any one can do now, but God. And God holds aloof, these days.”

  For a minute Laura peered up at him, letting the full import of his words sink into her dazed brain. Then, sensing the tragic inevitability of what must be, she turned, ran down the steps and along the rain-swept path.

  He dared not call after her, to bid her take no desperate measures, for fear of waking the captain—the captain, at that very moment shivering inside the window, transfixed by spikes of suffering that nailed him to his cross of Calvary. In silence he watched her, storm-driven like a wraith, grow dim through the rain till she vanished from his sight.

  Alone, Dr. Filhiol sank heavily into a wet chair. There he remained, thinking deep and terrible things that wring the heart of man.

  And the captain, what of him?

  Dazed, staggered, he groped toward the desk. From the drawer he took the slip of paper bearing the combination. With an effort that taxed all his strength he opened the safe, opened the money-compartment. His trembling fingers caught up the few remaining bills there.

  “God above!” he gulped.

  Then all at once a change, a swift metamorphosis of wrath and outraged love swept over him. He seemed to freeze into a stern, avenging figure, huge of shoulder, hard of fist. The bulk of him loomed vast, in that enfolding bathrobe like a Roman patrician’s toga, as he strode through the door and up the stairs.

  Silent and grim, he struck Hal’s door with his fist. The door resisted. One lunge of the shoulder, and the lock burst.

  Hal stood there in corduroy trousers, heavy gray reefer and oilskin hat. Two strapped suit-cases stood by the bureau. Over the floor, the bed, lay a litter of discarded clothes and papers.

  “What the hell!” cried the thief, clenching angry fists.

  “You, sir!” exclaimed old Captain Briggs, in a voice the boy had never yet heard. “Stand where you are! I have to speak with you!”

  Not even the effrontery of Hal’s bold eyes could quite meet that blue, piercing look. Had the old man, he wondered, a revolver? Was he minded now to kill? In that terrible and accusing face, he saw what Alpheus Briggs had been in the old, barbarous days. The brute in him recognized the dormant passions of his grandfather, now rekindling. And, though he tried to mask his soul, the fear in it spied through his glance.

  “You snake!” the captain flung at him. “You lying Judas!”

  “Go easy there!” Hal menaced. That he had been drinking was obvious. The scent of liquor filled the room, abomination in the old man’s nostrils. “Go easy! I’m not taking any such talk from any man, even if he is my grandfather!”

  “You’ll take all I have to say, and you can lay to that, sir!” retorted the old man. Toward Hal he advanced, fists doubled. The boy cast about him for some weapon. Not for all his strength did he dare stand against this overpowering old man.

  Below, on the porch, the doctor had heard sounds of war, and had pegged into the hall at his best speed. There he met Ezra, who had just come from the cabin.

  “Great gulls! The safe’s open—the cap’n—knows! Hell’s loose now!” Ezra gasped.

  He made for the stairs. The doctor tried to clutch him back.

  “No use, Ezra! Too late—you can’t stop it now with all that nonsense about your being the thief!”

  “Let me up them stairs, damn you!”

  “Never! They’ve got to settle this themselves. You’ll only make things worse!”

  With an oath, a violent wrench, Ezra tore himself away, and scrambled up the stairs.

  “Cap’n Briggs! Hal!” he shouted, torn by conflicting loves. “Wait on, both o’ ye. I done it—nobody but me—”

  “There now, how does that strike you?” sneered Hal, respited by the shock of this self-accusation that dropped the captain’s fists. “The son-of-a-sea-cook owns up to it, himself!”

  “Me, me, nobody but me!” vociferated Ezra, who had now reached the room. He clawed at the captain’s arm. “Not him, cap’n! Me!”

  “If that’s true, Ezra, how the devil does Hal, here, know what you’re talking about, so slick?”

  “Ezra lent me five hundred, when it comes to that,” put in Hal, “and told me it was his savings. But I see now—he stole it, the damned, black-hearted thief! Didn’t you, Ezra?”

  “Sure, sure! Cap’n, you listen to me now. Hal, he never—”

  “Ezra,” said old Briggs, holding his rage in check, “you’re wonderful!” He laid a hand of affection on the shoulder of the trembling old man. “It’s your heart and soul that’s speaking falsehood—falsehood more white and shining than God’s truth. But I can’t take your word, given to shield this serpent we’ve been nursing in our bosom. I know all about everything now. I know why Hal robbed me.”

  “Like hell you do!” the boy blared out.

  “Yes, even the name of the very boat he’s bought with my hard-saved money. Money that was meant to help him up and on again. It’s no use your lying to me, Ezra.” He pointed a steady, accusing finger. “There’s the thief, Ezra, standing right before you—standing there for the last time he’ll ever stand under this roof of mine, so help me God!”

  “Cap’n, cap’n,” implored the old man sinking to his knees, hands clasped, face streaming tears. “Don’t say that! Oh, Lord, don’t, don’t say that!”

  “I don’t give a damn what the old stiff says now,” sneered Hal, picking up his baggage. His red face was brutalized with rage and drink. “Let him go to it. He said a mouthful when he said I grabbed the coin. Sure I did—and I’m only sorry it wasn’t more. Wish I’d grabbed it all! I’d like to have cleaned the old tightwad for a decent roll, while I was at it!”

  “Hal! Master Hal!”

  The doctor, listening from below, quivered with rage, but held himself in check. What, after all, could his weak body accomplish? And as for speech, that was not needed now.

  “Get out o’ my way, the pair o’ you, and let me blow out o’ this namby-pamby, Sunday-school dump!” snarled Hal, shouldering forward. “I’m quitting. I told you yesterday I was sick of all this grandpa’s-darling stuff. If I can’t get out and live, I’ll cash in my checks. College—apologies—white flannels—urrgh!”

  The growl in his deep chest and sinewed throat was that of a wolf. Silent, cold, unmoved now, the old captain studied him.

  “None o’ that for mine, thanks!” Hal threw at him with insolence supreme. “Wait till I catch McLaughlin! I’ll apologize to him! Say! I’ve already apologized to three of his men, and Mac’ll get it, triple-extract. And then I’ll blow. I’ve got a classy boat that can walk some, and let ’em try to stop me, if they want to. I’m not afraid of you, or any man in this town, or in the world!”

  He dropped one of the suit-cases, raised his right arm and swelled the formidable biceps, glorying in the brute power of his arm, his trip-hammer fist.

  “Afraid? Not while I’ve got this! Go ahead and try to get me arrested, if you think fit. It’ll take more than Albert Mills to pinch me, or Squire Bean to hold me for trial—it’ll take more than any jail in this town to keep me!

  “Now I’ve said all I’m going to, except that I took the coin. Yes, I took it. And I’ll take more wherever I find it. Money, booze, women—I’ll take ’em all. They’re mine, if I can get ’em. That’s all. To hell with everything that stands in my way! You two get out of it now before I throw you out!”

  He brutally struck the kneeling old Ezra down and picked up the suit-cases. The captain quivered with the strain of holding his hand from slaughter, and stood aside. Not one word did he speak.

  Hal blundered out into the passageway, and, panting with rage, started to descend the stairs.

  Old Ezra, crawling on hands and knees, tried to follow.

  “Hal! Master Hal, come back! I got money! I’ll—I’ll pay!”

  The captain lifted him, held him with an arm of steel.

  “Silence, Ezra! Remember,
we’re not children. We’re old deep-water sailormen, you and I. This is mutiny. The boy has chosen. It’s all over.”

  Ezra sank into a chair, covered his face and burst into convulsive sobs, rocking himself to and fro in the excess of his grief.

  Alpheus Briggs walked to the top of the stairs, and silently watched Hal descend. At the bottom, Dr. Filhiol confronted the swearing, murderous fellow. He, too, kept silence. Only he stood back a little, avoiding Hal as if the very breath of him were poison.

  Hal flung a sneer at him with bared teeth, and paused a moment at the door leading into the cabin. A thought came to his brain, crazed with whisky, rage and the obscure hereditary curse that lay upon him. Something seemed whispering a command to him, irrational enough, yet wholly compelling.

  To the fireplace Hal strode, snatched down the kris, opened one of the suit-cases, and threw the weapon in. He locked the case again, and slouched out on to the piazza, defiantly and viciously.

  “Might come handy, that knife, if the fists didn’t get away with the goods,” he muttered. “Take it along, anyhow!”

  The Airedale, hearing Hal’s step, got up and fawned against him. Hal, with an obscene oath, kicked the animal.

  “Get out o’ my way, you—” he growled. The dog, yelping, still cringed after him as he descended the steps. Mad with the blind passion that kills, Hal flung down his suit-cases, snatched up the dog and dashed it down on the steps with horrible force.

  “Damn you, don’t you touch that dog again!” shouted old Dr. Filhiol, hobbling out the door.

  He brandished his cane. In his pale face flamed holy rage. With a boisterous, horrible laugh, Hal snatched the cane from him, snapped it with one flirt of his huge hands, and threw the pieces into the doctor’s face.

  The dog, still crying out with the pain of a broken leg, tried to drag himself to Hal. Another oath, a kick, and Ruddy sprawled along the porch.

  “I’ve fixed you a while, you fossil quack!” gibed Hal at the doctor. “Maybe you’ll butt in again where you’re not wanted! Lucky for you I’m in a hurry now, or I’d do a better job!”

  Again Hal picked up his cases, and strode down the walk, against the rain and gale. At the gate he paused, triumphant.

  “To hell with this place!” he cried. “To hell with the whole business and with all o’ you!”

  Then he passed through the gate, along the hedge, and vanished in the boisterous storm.

  Up in Hal’s room, old Ezra was still convulsed with senile grief. The captain, his face white and lined, had sunk down on the bed and with vacant eyes was staring at the books and papers strewn there in confusion.

  All at once his attention focused on a sheet of paper whereon a few words seemed vividly to stand out. He advanced a shaking hand, picked up the paper and read:

  The curse must be fulfilled, to the last breath, for by Shiva and the Trimurthi, what is written is written. But if he through whom the curse descendeth on another is stricken to horror and to death, then the Almighty Vishnu, merciful, closes that page. And he who through another’s sin was accursed, is cleansed. Thus may the curse be fulfilled. But always one of two must die. Tuan Allah poonia krajah! It is the work of the Almighty One! One of two must die!

  Carefully the old man read the words. Once more he read them. Then, with a smile of strange comprehension and great joy, he nodded.

  “One of two—one of two must die!” said he. “Thank God, I understand! At last—thank God!”

  CHAPTER XXXVIII

  CAPTAIN BRIGGS FINDS THE WAY

  The full significance of the curse burning deep into his brain, old Captain Briggs sat there on the bed a moment longer, his eyes fixed on the slip of paper. Then, with a new and very strange expression, as of a man who suddenly has understood, has chosen and is determined, he carefully folded the paper and thrust it into the pocket of his bathrobe. He stood up, peered at Ezra, advanced and laid a hand upon the old man’s shoulder.

  “Ezra,” said he in a deep voice, “there’s times when men have got to be men, and this is one of ’em. You and I have gone some pretty rough voyages in years past. I don’t recall that either of us was ever afraid or refused duty in any wind or weather. We aren’t going to now. Whatever’s duty, that’s what we’re going to do. It’ll maybe lead me to a terribly dark port, but if that’s where I’ve got to go, as a good seaman, so be it.

  “And now,” he added in another tone, “now that’s all settled, and no more to be said about it.” Affectionately he patted the shoulder of the broken-hearted Ezra. “Come, brace up now; brace up!”

  “Cap’n Briggs, sir,” choked Ezra, distraught with grief, “you ain’t goin’ to believe what Master Hal said, be you? He accused himself o’ stealin’ that there money, to pertect me. It was really me as done it, sir, not him!”

  “We won’t discuss that any more, Ezra,” the captain answered, with a smile of deep affection. “It doesn’t much signify. There’s so much more to all this than just one particular case of theft. You don’t understand, Ezra. Come now, sir; pull yourself together! No more of this!”

  “But ain’t you goin’ to do anythin’ to bring him back, cap’n?” asked the old man. He got up and faced the captain with a look of grief and pain. “That there boy of ourn, oh, he can’t be let go to the devil this way! Ain’t there nothin’ you can do to save him?”

  “Yes, Ezra, there is.”

  “Praise God fer that, cap’n! You hadn’t ought to be too hard on Hal. You an’ me, we’re old, but we’d oughta try an’ understand a young un. Young folks is always stickin’ up the circus-bills along the road o’ life, an’ old uns is always comin’ along an’ tearin’ ’em down; an’ that ain’t right, cap’n. You an’ me has got to understand!”

  “I understand perfectly,” smiled the captain, his eyes steady and calm. “I know exactly what I’ve got to do.”

  “An’ you’ll do it?” Ezra’s trembling eagerness was pitiful. “You’re going’ to do it, cap’n?”

  Alpheus Briggs nodded. His voice blended with a sudden furious gust of wind as he answered:

  “I’m going to do it, Ezra. I’m surely going to.”

  “An’ what is it?” insisted Ezra. “Run after him an’ bring him back?”

  “Bring him back. That’s just it.”

  “Praise the Lord!” The old man’s eyes were wet. “When? When you goin’ to do it?”

  “Very soon, now.”

  “You got to hurry, cap’n. We mustn’t let anythin’ happen to our Hal. He’s run kinda wild, mebbe, but he’s everythin’ we got to love. Ef you can git him back agin, we’ll be so doggone good to him he’ll hafta do better. But you mustn’t lose no time. Ef he gits aboard that there Kittiwink an’ tries to make sail out through the Narrers, he’s like as not to git stove up on Geyser.”

  The captain smiled as he made answer:

  “I sha’n’t lose any unnecessary time, Ezra. But I can’t do it all in a moment. And you must let me do this in my own way.”

  The old man peered up at him through tears.

  “You know best how to chart this course, now.”

  “Yes, I believe I do. To save that boy, I’ve got to make a journey, and I’ll need a little time to get ready. But just the minute I am ready, I’ll go. You can depend on that!”

  “A journey? I’ll go too!”

  “No, Ezra, this is a journey I must take all alone.”

  “Well, you know best, cap’n,” the old fellow assented. “But ef you need any help, call on!”

  “I will, Ezra. Now go to your room and rest. You’re badly used up. There’s nothing you can do to help, just now.”

  “But won’t you be wantin’ me to pack y’r duffel? An’ rig Bucephalus?”

  “When I want you, I’ll let you know,” smiled Briggs. With one hand still on the old man’s shoulder, his other hand took Ezra’s in a strong clasp.

  “Ezra,” said he, “you’ve always stood by, through thick and thin, and I know you will now. You’ve been the mos
t loyal soul in this whole world. No needle ever pointed north half as constant as you’ve pointed toward your duty by Hal and me. You’re a man, Ezra, a man—and I’m not ashamed to say I love you for it!”

  His grip tightened on the old man’s hand. For a moment he looked square into Ezra’s wondering, half-frightened eyes. Then he loosened his grasp, turned and walked from the room.

  Along the hall he went, and down the stairs. His face, calm, beatified, seemed shining with an inner light that ennobled its patriarchal features.

  “Thank God,” he whispered, “for light to see my duty, and for strength to do it!”

  As he reached the bottom of the stairs, the front door opened, and Dr. Filhiol staggered in, admitting a furious gust of wind and rain. With great difficulty he was managing himself, holding the injured dog. Ruddy was yelping; one leg hung limp and useless.

  For a tense moment the doctor confronted Briggs. He pushed the door shut, with rage and bitterness.

  “And you, sir,” he suddenly exclaimed, “you go against my orders; you leave your bed and expose yourself to serious consequences, for the sake of a beast—who will do a thing like this!”

  Furiously he nodded downward at the dog.

  The captain advanced and, with a hand that trembled, caressed the rough muzzle.

  “Hal?” asked he, under his breath. “This, too?”

  “Yes, this! Nearly killed the poor creature, sir! Kicked him. And that wasn’t enough. When the dog still tried to follow him, grabbed him up and dashed him down on the steps. This leg’s broken. Ribs, too, I think. A miracle the dog wasn’t killed. Your grandson’s intention was to kill him, all right enough, but I guess he didn’t want to take time for it!” Filhiol’s lips were trembling with passion, so that he could hardly articulate. “This is horrible! Injury to a man is bad enough, but a man can defend himself, and will. But injury to a defenseless, trusting animal—my God, sir, if I’d been anything but a cripple, and if I’d had a weapon handy, I’d have had your grandson’s blood, so help me!”

  The captain made no answer, but set his teeth into his bearded lip. He patted the dog’s head. Ruddy licked his hand.