The Message

by Louis Tracy

  CHAPTER IV

  FIGUERO MAKES A DISCOVERY

  "You don't mean to say----" gasped Peter.

  "I do. And the less notice we attract during the next five minutes thebetter I shall be pleased. Bear away to the nearest yacht, and let meapologize for being late."

  So, if there were eyes on board the _Sans Souci_ that paid heed toaught save the coming of an august visitor, they would have seennothing more remarkable than a small boat visiting at least two vesselsin seemingly unsuccessful quest of one among the hundreds of yachts inthe roadstead.

  Following a devious route, the dinghy reached the cutter from the portside. Warden secured a pair of night binoculars, seated himself on thehatch, and mounted guard over the _Sans Souci_. The cruiser's launchwas still alongside, and the time passed slowly until the two officersdescended the gangway and were borne swiftly in the direction of theRoyal Yacht Club landing-slip. They had been on board three-quarters ofan hour.

  There was now so little movement afloat that the pulsation of the screwcould be heard until it was quite near the private pier. Finally itwas dominated by the strains of the Castle band beginning the eveningprogramme with the "Boulanger March," and Warden smiled as he thoughthow singularly inappropriate the lively tune must sound in the ears ofthe potentate hurrying shoreward.

  The band broke off abruptly; after a brief pause it struck up again.

  "The King, Gord bless 'im!" said Peter loyally.

  "No. That is not for the King. They are playing _Heil dir im SiegerKrantz_" said Warden, still peering at the _Sans Souci_.

  "Well, it's the fust time I've ever heerd 'Gord save the King' called_that_," expostulated the pilot.

  "Same tune, different words."

  Peter sniffed in his scorn.

  "They'll be sayin' the Old Hundredth is a Dutch hornpipe next," hegrowled.

  The Prussian National hymn might have acted as a tocsin to Mr.Baumgartner, for a light was hoisted forthwith over the poop of the_Sans Souci_, and Warden discerned the tall forms of the three WestAfrican natives standing near the tubby man who manipulated rope andpulley. Figuero was not visible at first. Warden began to be annoyed.Could it be possible that such a social outcast could be left in EvelynDane's company? Developments soon relieved the tension. A launch puffedup and took away the visitors, Figuero being the last to step on board.The noisy little vessel was succeeded by two boats filled with sailorsand servants. Within a few minutes the yacht's officers arrived, thedeck saloons were brilliantly illuminated, and the _Sans Souci_ becamea jeweled palace like unto the host of her congeners in the Solent.

  By this time Peter was as interested as his employer in the comings andgoings of their neighbors.

  "There's more in that than meets the eye, Mr. Warden," he said, rollingsome tobacco between his palms preparatory to filling his pipe.

  "Yet a good deal has met our eyes to-night," was the quiet answer.

  Peter worked his great hands methodically. He was not a man of manywords; and when he expressed an opinion it was the outcome of calmdeliberation.

  "Tell me who them niggers an' the other party wos, an' I'll do somefair guessin'," he said. "Rum thing, too, that such a gazebo as thatmurderous-lookin' swab on the calabash should cross our course justwhen it did. Were did it come from--that's wot I want to know. Hasthere bin an earthquake? If looks count for anythink, it might haverisen straight up from----"

  "Peter," broke in Warden, "I hope Chris is in bed?"

  The pilot laughed.

  "Time we wos, too, sir. May I ax w'ere his black nibs is stowed?"

  "Among my traps. Forget it. I shall send it to London in the morning."

  "An' a good job to be rid of it. I've seen some queer fish in the sea,from bottle-nosed whales an' sharks to dead pigs who 'ad cut their ownthroats with their fore feet by swimmin' from a wrecked ship, but neverbefore 'ave I clapped my peepers on a fizzy-mahog like that."

  Twice had an unusually long speech betrayed his irate sentiment. He wasdeeply stirred. Warden, smoking and listening in silence, but neverrelaxing his vigilant scrutiny of the _Sans Souci_, felt that, in verytruth, there must be some malign influence in the carved head on thegourd ere it would arouse the intense repugnance of two such differentnatures as those of the bluff, good-tempered sailor and the dainty,well-bred girl who had come so suddenly into his life.

  He did not pursue the conversation. Though Evans was quite trustworthy,there was no need to make him a confidant in matters which might havethe gravest bearing on an already troubled position in West Africa. Thepilot's carefully charged pipe was nearly empty when Warden surprisedhim with an abrupt question.

  "What time does the first train leave for London in the morning?"

  "Round about seven o'clock," he said.

  "You ain't thinkin' of chuckin' the cruise, I hope, sir," he went on,and the dejection in his voice showed that he was prepared for theworst.

  "For a few hours, perhaps a night--that is all."

  "So you b'lieve they mean mischief?" growled Peter, jerking a thumbtoward the yacht.

  This direct and forcible reasoning was unexpected. Yet any level-headedman might have reached practically the same conclusions from thenight's happenings. They were clear enough to one versed in most ofthe intricacies and pitfalls of West African politics, nor did Wardenendeavor to evade the point.

  "I believe that there are people in London who should know what youand I know," he said slowly. "Anyhow, let us turn in. Miss Evelyn Daneevidently sleeps on board. Perhaps the morning's light may dispel someof the vapors that cloud our brains to-night."

  The early train from Cowes did not, however, carry Arthur Warden amongthe London-bound passengers.

  A glimpse of Evelyn on the deck of the _Sans Souci_ altered thatportion of his plans. She waved a pleasant greeting, held up bothhands with the fingers spread widely apart, and nodded her head inthe direction of the town. He took the gesture to mean that she wasgoing ashore at ten o'clock, and he signaled back the information thathe would precede her at nine. Not until he found himself dawdling onthe quay, killing time as lazily as possible, did the thought obtrudethat he was extraordinarily anxious to meet her again. Of course, itirritated him. A smart soldier, with small means beyond his pay--witha foot just planted on the first rung of the administrator's ladderin a land where life itself is too often the price asked for higherclimbing--he had no business to show any undue desire to cultivate theacquaintance of young ladies so peculiarly eligible as Evelyn Dane.He knew this so well that he scoffed at the notion, put two knucklesbetween his lips, and emitted a peculiarly shrill and compellingwhistle.

  For its special purpose--the summoning of a boy selling newspapers--itwas a sure means toward an end. It drew the boy's attention, evenevoked his envy. But it chanced also to be a krooboy call on the UpperNiger, and in that capacity it brought a lean, swarthy face to thewindow of a bedroom in a quiet hotel overlooking the quay.

  Se?or Miguel Figuero looked annoyed at first. His dark, prominent eyessearched the open space for one of the negroes whom he expected to findthere, but his wrathful expression changed to blank incredulity when hesaw Warden. The phase of sheer unbelief did not last long. He dartedout of the room, and rapped sharply on a neighboring door.

  "O Loanda, M'Wanga! you fit for get up one-time," he shouted.

  Crossing the corridor, he roused another dusky gentleman, Pana by name,with the same imperative command. Soon the four were gathered at awindow and gazing at Warden.

  "Dep'ty Commissioner Brass River lib," whispered the Portugueseeagerly. "You savvy--him dat was in Oku bush las' year. Him captainHausa men. You lib for see him."

  "O Figuero," said one of the negroes, seemingly their leader, "Iplenty much savvy. I see him palaver in village."

  "S'pose we fit for catch 'im?" suggested another.

  "That fool talk here," growled Figuero. "You lib for see himto-day--then we catch him bush one-time. I hear him give boat-boywhistle. Stick your eyes on him, you pagans, an' don't you l
ib forforget--savvy?"

  They grunted agreement. The West African bushman has to depend almostexclusively on his five senses for continued existence, and there waslittle doubt that Arthur Warden would be recognized by each man atany future date within reason, no matter what uniform he wore, or howgreatly his features might be altered by hardship or fever.

  "Why he lib for dis place?" asked Loanda, the chief, who rememberedWarden's part in the suppression of a slave-raid and the punishmentsubsequently inflicted on those who aided and abetted it.

  "No savvy--yet. I lib for watch--then I savvy," said the Portuguese.

  "O Figuero, I fit for chop," murmured Pana, who found little amusementin gazing idly at an Englishman through a window when there were goodthings to eat in the hotel.

  "All right. Go an' chop, but remain in room till I come. Then I dashyou one quart gin."

  Pana grinned.

  "I chop one-time," he said, and, indeed, the three looked as thoughthey could tackle a roasted sheep comfortably.

  Meanwhile, Warden opened his paper and took more interest than usual inthe news. He learned that the emperor dined on board the imperial yachtand subsequently visited the Castle, being accompanied by Count vonRippenbach as _aide-de-camp_.

  Warden did not pretend to have more than a passing knowledge of foreignpolitics, but he noted the name, the Count having undoubtedly been aparty to the conference on the _Sans Souci_.

  Another paragraph was of more immediate import, inasmuch as it tendedto solve the mystery of the calabash. It ran:

  "The emperor's yacht, after watching the British fleet at gun practiceoff Selsey Bill yesterday, returned to the island and followed theracers during several hours. An alarming incident occurred whenrounding the Foreland. Though a course was laid close in-shore, bothcharts and lead showed ten fathoms of water. Suddenly the cruiserstruck. At first it was believed that she had run into some unknownsandbank formed by a recent gale, but examination revealed that she hadcollided with a sunken wreck, invisible even at low-water spring tide.No damage whatever was done to the stately vessel, which continued thecruise after a delay of a few minutes.

  "A Sandown gentleman, passing the same spot later in his launch, foundsome floating wreckage. The pieces he brought ashore are believed to beparts of a ship dating back at least a couple of centuries, as thereis no record within modern times of any wooden ship foundering in thelocality. The gentleman in question decided to mark the exact spotwith a buoy, and a diver's services will be requisitioned when tideand weather are suitable, so there is some possibility that a numberof antiques, together with a quantity of very old timber, will berecovered."

  Warden read the item twice. He found that the emperor was not on boardhis own yacht at the time. The remainder of the newspaper was dull. Hethrew away all but the page referring to Cowes, which he stuffed in apocket, and, although he held his nerves under good control, he almostswore aloud when his fingers touched the roll of skin, whose veryexistence he had forgotten for the hour.

  The minutes passed slowly until a gig from the _Sans Souci_ depositedMiss Dane on the wharf.

  Not wishing to become known to any of the yacht's people if he couldpossibly avoid it, Warden strolled away a little distance as soon asthe boat appeared in the Medina. Figuero, whose eyes had never left himfor an instant since he emitted the telltale whistle, hurried to thedoor of the hotel and narrowly escaped being discovered when Wardenturned on his heel.

  The Portuguese, an expert tracker in the bush, was out of his elementin Cowes, but he managed to slip out of sight in good time. He wassafer than he imagined. Warden was looking at Evelyn Dane, and she madea pretty enough picture on this fine summer's day to keep any man'sglance from wandering.

  It gave him a subtle sense of joy to note the unfeigned pleasure of hergreeting. Her face mantled with a slight color as she held out her hand.

  "I am on my way home," she cried, "but my train does not leave for halfan hour. It is so good of you to wait here. I was dreading that youmight row across to the yacht--not because I did not want to see youagain, but Mr. Baumgartner made such a point of excluding me from anyknowledge of his visitors last night that he would be positively ill ifhe guessed I had friends on board the _Nancy_."

  "And Mrs. Baumgartner----"

  "She is a dear creature, but much in awe where her husband's businessaffairs are concerned. She and I passed the evening together. She wouldnot hear of my departure, but she warned me not to say a word about myafternoon's adventures. Mr. Baumgartner is of a nervous disposition. Isuppose he thinks all the world is watching him because he is a richman."

  "There is method in his madness this time," laughed Warden. "Letme tell you quite candidly that if some one told him my name andoccupation and added the information that I kept a close eye on the_Sans Souci_ between the hours of 5.30 and 9 P.M. last night, he, beingof plethoric habit, would be in danger of apoplexy."

  They were walking to the station. Evelyn, unable to decide whether ornot to take his words seriously, gave him a shy look.

  "You knew I was safe on board," she said.

  For some reason, the assumption that he was thinking only of her causedthe blood to tingle in Warden's veins.

  "That is the nicest thing you could have said," he agreed, and she inturn felt her heart racing.

  "Of course you are very well aware that I did not imagine you might notbe differently occupied," she protested.

  "Let us not quarrel about meanings. You were delightfully right. It isthe simple fact that before you were many minutes in the _Sans Souci's_cabin--by the way, where were you?"

  "In Mrs. Baumgartner's state-room."

  "Ah. Well--to continue--I was nearly coming to take you away, _vi etarmis_."

  "But why?"

  "You have no idea whom Mr. Baumgartner was entertaining?"

  "None."

  "The first person to reach the _Sans Souci_ after yourself was thePortuguese land-pirate I mentioned to you yesterday. He was accompaniedby three chiefs of the men of Oku. Do you recollect my description ofthe mask on the gourd?"

  She uttered a startled little cry.

  "Are you in earnest?" was all she could find to say.

  "I was in deadly earnest about eight o'clock last evening, I assureyou. Had it not been for a most amazing intervention you wouldcertainly have heard me demanding your instant appearance on deck."

  "Then what happened?"

  "I must begin by admitting that I was worried about you. I got into thedinghy, intending to see you on some pretext. A launch containing thisprecious gang crossed my bows, and I returned to the _Nancy_ to--tosecure Peter's assistance. We were near the _Sans Souci_ on the secondtrip when another launch arrived, and there stepped on board the yachta gentleman whose presence assured me that you, at least, were safeenough. You will credit that element in a strained situation when Itell you that the latest arrival was the emperor."

  "The Emperor!" she almost gasped. "Do you mean----"

  "Sh-s-s-h! No names. If walls have ears, we are surrounded bylisteners. But I am not mistaken. I saw him clearly. I heardBaumgartner's humble greeting. And the really remarkable fact is thatPeter and you and I share a very important state secret."

  "I--I don't understand," she said, bewildered.

  "Of course you don't. Not many people could guess why the most powerfulmonarch on the Continent of Europe should wish to confer with four ofthe ripest scoundrels that the West African hinterland can produce.Nevertheless, it is true."

  "Then that is why Mrs. Baumgartner kept me closeted in her state-roomnearly two hours?"

  "Yes. By the way, has she engaged you?"

  "Yes. She was exceedingly kind. The terms and conditions are mostgenerous. I rejoin the yacht and meet her daughter at Milford nextWednesday. Then we go to Scotland for some shooting, and the _SansSouci_ returns to Portsmouth to be refitted for a cruise to Madeira andthe Canaries during the winter months. Altogether, she sketched a veryagreeable programme. But you have excited my curiosity almost
beyondbounds by your description of the goings-on last night. My share ofthe important state secret you spoke of is very slight. It consists inbeing wholly ignorant of it. Can you enlighten me?"

  "There is no reason why I should not. It will invest the Baumgartnerswith a romantic nimbus which, judging solely from observations, mightotherwise be lacking."

  The girl laughed.

  "They are pleasant people, but rather commonplace," she said.

  "Well, we can talk freely in the train."

  "You are not leaving Cowes this morning on my account?"

  Perhaps her voice showed a degree of restraint. Though she wasbeginning to like Captain Arthur Warden more than she cared toadmit even to herself, he must not be allowed to believe that theirfriendship could go to extremes.

  "If you don't mind enduring my company as far as Portsmouth, I proposeto inflict it on you," he explained good-humoredly. "Circumstancescompel me to visit London to-day. Chris is now waiting at the stationwith my bag. I would have left the island by the first train had Inot been lucky enough to see you earlier and interpret your signalcorrectly."

  "I only intended to tell you----"

  "The time you would come ashore. Exactly. Why are you vexed because weare fellow-travelers till midday?"

  "I am not vexed. I am delighted."

  "You expressed your delight with the warmth of an iceberg."

  "Now you are angry with me."

  "Furious. But please give me your well-balanced opinion. If peaches aregood in the afternoon should they not be better in the morning?"

  "I _could_ eat a peach," she admitted.

  Figuero, who did not fail to pick up the newspaper thrown aside byWarden, followed them without any difficulty. When they stopped at ashop in the main street he took the opportunity to buy a copy of thetorn newspaper. Mingling with a crowd at the station, he saw them entera first-class carriage. His acquaintance with the English language waspractically confined to the trader's tongue spoken all along the WestAfrican coast, and he had little knowledge of English ways. But he wasshrewd and tactful, and his keen wits were at their utmost tension.Hence, he was not at a loss how to act when he found that a ticketexaminer was visiting each compartment. Seizing a chance that presenteditself, he asked the man if he could inform him where the pretty girlin blue and the tall gentleman in the yachtsman's clothes were going,and a tip of five shillings unlocked the official lips.

  "The lady has a return ticket to Langton, in Oxfordshire, and thegentleman a single to London," said the man.

  Figuero did not trust his memory. He asked the name of the first-namedtown again, and how to spell it. Then he wrote something in a note-bookand hurried back to the harbor. It was essential that he should findout what vessels these two people came from, for the presence of aSouthern Nigeria Deputy Commissioner in Cowes was not a coincidence tobe treated lightly.

  Seated in a tiny boat in the harbor was a rotund, jolly-lookingpersonage of seafaring aspect. He and the boat were there when thelarger craft which brought the girl ashore came to the quay, butFiguero had taken no notice of Evelyn then, because he had not theleast notion that Warden was awaiting her. Possibly the sailor-likeindividual in the small boat could slake his thirst for knowledge.

  So he hailed him.

  "You lib for know Capt'n Varden?" he asked, with an ingratiating smileand a hand suggestively feeling for a florin.

  "I wot?" said the stout man, poking out a wooden leg as he swung roundto face his questioner.

  "You savvy--you know Capt'n Varden, a mister who walk hereone-time--just now--for long minutes."

  "There's no one of that name in these parts," replied Peter, whothought he identified this swarthy-faced inquirer.

  "Den p'raps you tell name of young lady--very beautiful young lady--wholib for here in ship-boat not much time past? She wear blue dress an'brown hat an' brown boots."

  "Oh, everybody knows _her_," grinned Peter. "She's Miss Polly Perkins,of Paddington Green."

  "You write 'im name, an' I dash you two shillin'," said Figuero eagerly.

  Peter was about to reply that if any dashing was to be done he couldtake a hand in the game himself, but he thought better of it. Takingthe proffered note-book and pencil, he wrote the words laboriously, andpocketed his reward with an easy conscience.

  "When Chris heaves in sight I'll send him back for two pounds ofsteak," he communed. "It was honestly earned, an' I figure on theCaptain bein' arf tickled to death when I tell 'im how the Portygeeplayed me for a sucker."

  Figuero hastened to the hotel, saw that his sable friends were wellsupplied with gin and cigarettes, bade them lie _perdu_ till he cameback, and made his way to the quay again. Peter was still there,apparently without occupation.

  "You lib for take me to yacht _Sans Souci_ an' I dash you fiveshillin'?" he said.

  "Right-o, jump in," cried Peter, but he added under his breath, "Sinkme if he don't use a queer lingo, but money talks."

  He used all his artifices to get Figuero to discuss his business inCowes, but he met a man who could turn aside such conversational arrowswithout effort. At any rate, Peter was now sure he was not mistakenin believing that his fare was the "Portuguese slave-trader andgin-runner" spoken of by Warden, and he had not failed to notice thehotel which Figuero had visited so hurriedly.

  There was a check at the yacht. Mr. Baumgartner had gone ashore, butwould return for luncheon. So Peter demanded an extra half crown forthe return journey, and met a wondering Chris with a broad smile.

  "You're goin' shoppin', sonny," he exclaimed. "I've been earnin' goodmoney to-day. Sheer off for 'arf an hour, an' I'll tie up the dinghy.I've got a notion that a pint would be a treat."

  Thus it came to pass that while Se?or Miguel Figuero was puzzling, evenalarming the millionaire yacht-owner with his broken talk of CaptainVarden, Dep'ty Commissioner and leader of bush expeditions--alarminghim so thoroughly that he never dreamed of associating Miss Evelyn Danewith the Polly Perkins of Peter's juvenile memories--Arthur Wardenhimself was driving in a hansom from Waterloo to the Foreign Office,and wondering what new phase of existence would open up before him whenhis news became known to the men who control the destinies of OuterBritain.