The Pagan Madonna

by Harold MacGrath

  CHAPTER XIV

  Jane gazed through the doorway at the sea. There was apparently nohorizon, no telling where the sea ended and the faded blue of the skybegan. There was something about this sea she did not like. She wasNorth-born. It seemed to her that there was really less to fear from theAtlantic fury than from these oily, ingratiating, rolling mounds. Theywere the Uriah Heep of waters. She knew how terrible they could be, farmore terrible than the fiercest nor'easter down the Atlantic. Typhoon! Howcould a yacht live through a hurricane? She turned again towardCunningham.

  "You are like that," she said, irrelevantly.

  "Like what?"

  "Like the sea."

  Cunningham rose and peered under the half-drawn blind.

  "That may be complimentary, but hanged if I know! Smooth?--is that whatyou mean?"

  "Kind of terrible."

  He sat down again.

  "That rather cuts. I might be terrible. I don't know--never met theoccasion; but I do know that I'm not treacherous. You certainly are notafraid of me."

  "I don't exactly know. It's--it's too peaceful."

  "To last? I see. But it isn't as though I were forcing you to go throughwith the real voyage. Only a few days more, and you'll have seen the lastof me."

  "I hope so."

  He chuckled.

  "What I meant was," she corrected, "that nothing might happen, nobody gethurt. Human beings can plan only so far."

  "That's true enough. Every programme is subject to immediate change. But,Lord, what a lot of programmes go through per schedule! Still, you areright. It all depends upon chance. We say a thing is cut and dried, but wecan't prove it. But so far as I can see into the future, nothing is goingto happen, nobody is going to walk the plank. Piracy on a basis of 2.75per cent.--the kick gone out of it! But if you can bring about thereconciliation of the Cleighs the old boy will not be so keen for chasingme all over the map when this job is done."

  "Will you tell me what those beads are?"

  "To be sure I will--all in due time. What does Cleigh call them?"

  "Love beads!" scornfully.

  "On my solemn word, that's exactly what they are."

  "Very well. But remember, you promise to tell me when the time comes."

  "That and other surprising things."

  "I'll be going."

  "Come up as often as you like."

  Cunningham accompanied her to the bridge ladder and remained until she wasspeeding along the deck; then he returned to his chart. But the chart wasno longer able to hold his attention. So he levelled his gaze upon theswinging horizon and kept it there for a time. Odd fancy, picturing thegirl on the bridge in a hurricane, her hair streaming out behind her, herfine body leaning on the wind. A shadow in the doorway broke in upon thismusing. Cleigh.

  "Come in and sit down," invited Cunningham.

  But Cleigh ignored the invitation and stepped over to the steersman.

  "Has Miss Norman been in here?"

  "Yes, sir."

  "How long was she here?"

  "I don't know, sir; perhaps half an hour."

  Cleigh stalked to the door, but there he turned, and for the first timesince Cunningham had taken the yacht Cleigh looked directly, with grimintentness, into his enemy's eyes.

  "Battle, murder, and sudden death!" Cunningham laughed. "You don't have totell me, Cleigh! I can see it in your eyes. If Miss Norman wants to comehere and ask questions, I'm the last man to prevent her."

  Cleigh thumped down the ladder. Cunningham was right--there was murder inhis heart. He hurried into the main salon, and there he found Jane andDennison conversing.

  "Miss Norman, despite my warning you went up to the chart house."

  "I had some questions to ask."

  "I forbid you emphatically. I am responsible for you."

  "I am no longer your prisoner, Mr. Cleigh; I am Mr. Cunningham's."

  "You went up there alone?" demanded Dennison.

  "Why not? I'm not afraid. He will not break his word to me."

  "Damn him!" roared Dennison.

  "Where are you going?" she cried, seizing him by the sleeve.

  "To have it out with him! I can't stand this any longer!"

  "And what will become of me--if anything happens to you, or anythinghappens to him? What about the crew if he isn't on hand to hold them?"

  The muscular tenseness of the arm she held relaxed. But the look he gavehis father was on a par with that which Cleigh had so recently spent uponCunningham. Cleigh could not support it, and turned his head aside.

  "All right. But mind you keep in sight! If you will insist upon talkingwith the scoundrel, at least permit me to be within call. What do you wantto talk to him for, anyhow?"

  "Neither of you will stoop to ask him questions, so I had to. And I havelearned one thing. He is going pearl hunting."

  "What? Off the Catwick? There's no pearl oyster in that region," Dennisondeclared. "Either he is lying or the Catwick is a blind. The only chancehe'd have would be somewhere in the Sulu Archipelago; and this time ofyear the pearl fleets will be as thick as flies in molasses. Of course ifhe is aware of some deserted atoll, why, there might be something in it."

  "Have you ever hunted pearls?"

  "In a second-hand sort of way. But if pearls are his game, why commitpiracy when he could have chartered a tramp to carry his crew? There'smore than one old bucket hereabouts ready to his hand for coal andstores. He'll need a shoe spoon to get inside or by the Sulu fleets, sincethe oyster has been pretty well neglected these five years, and everyofficial pearler will be hiking down there. But it requires a certainamount of capital and a stack of officially stamped paper, and I don'tfancy Cunningham has either."

  Cleigh smiled dryly, but offered no comment. He knew all aboutCunningham's capital.

  "Did he say anything about being picked up by another boat?" askedDennison.

  "No," answered Jane. "But I don't believe it will be hard for me to makehim tell me that. I believe that he will keep his word, too."

  "Jane, he has broken the law of the sea. I don't know what the penalty isthese days, but it used to be hanging to the yard-arm. He won't beparticular about his word if by breaking it he can save his skin. He'sbeen blarneying you. You've let his plausible tongue and handsome facebefog you."

  "That is not true!" she flared. Afterward she wondered what caused theflash of perversity. "And I resent your inference!" she added withuplifted chin.

  Dennison whirled her about savagely, stared into her eyes, then walked tothe companion, up which he disappeared. This rudeness astonished herprofoundly. She appealed silently to the father.

  "We are riding a volcano," said Cleigh. "I'm not sure but he's settingsome trap for you. He may need you as a witness for the defense. Of courseI can't control your actions, but it would relieve me immensely if you'dgive him a wide berth."

  "He was not the one who brought me aboard."

  "No. And the more I look at it, the more I am convinced that you came onboard of your own volition. You had two or three good opportunities tocall for assistance."

  "You believe that?"

  "I've as much right to believe that as you have that Cunningham will keephis word."

  "Oh!" she cried, but it was an outburst of anger. And it had a peculiartwist, too. She was furious because both father and son were partlycorrect; and yet there was no diminution of that trust she was putting inCunningham. "Next you'll be hinting that I'm in collusion with him!"

  "No. Only he is an extraordinarily fascinating rogue, and you are wearingthe tinted goggles of romance."

  Fearing that she might utter something regrettable, she flew down the portpassage and entered her cabin, where she remained until dinner. She spentthe intervening hours endeavouring to analyze the cause of her temper, butthe cause was as elusive as quicksilver. Why should she trust Cunningham?What was the basis of this trust? He had, as Denny said, broken the law ofthe sea. Was there a bit of black sheep in her, and was the man calling toit? And this perversity
of hers might create an estrangement between herand Denny; she must not let that happen. The singular beauty of the man'sface, his amazing career, and his pathetic deformity--was that it?

  * * * * *

  "Where's the captain?" asked Cunningham, curiously, as he noted the vacantchair at the table that night.

  "On deck, I suppose."

  "Isn't he dining to-night?"--an accent of suspicion creeping into hisvoice. "He isn't contemplating making a fool of himself, is he? He'll gethurt if he approaches the wireless."

  "Togo," broke in Cleigh, "bring the avocats and the pineapple."

  Cunningham turned upon him with a laugh.

  "Cleigh, when I spin this yarn some day I'll carry you through it as theman who never batted an eye. I can see now how you must have bluffed WallStreet out of its boots."

  When Cunningham saw that Jane was distrait he made no attempt to pull herout of it. He ate his dinner, commenting only occasionally. Still, he badeher a cheery good-night as he returned to the chart house, where he stayedcontinually, never quite certain what old Captain Newton might do to thewheel and the compass if left alone too long.

  Dennison came in immediately after Cunningham's departure and contritelyapologized to Jane for his rudeness.

  "I suppose I'm on the rack; nerves all raw; tearing me to pieces to sitdown and twiddle my thumbs. Will you forgive me?"

  "Of course I will! I understand. You are all anxious about me.Theoretically, this yacht is a volcano, and you're trying to keep me fromkicking off the lid. But I've an idea that the lid will stay on tightly ifwe make believe we are Mr. Cunningham's guests. But it is almostimpossible to suspect that anything is wrong. Whenever a member of thecrew comes in sight he is properly polite, just as he would be on a liner.If I do go to the bridge again I'll give you warning. Good-night, Mr.Cleigh, I'll read to you in the morning. Good-night--Denny."

  Cleigh, sighing contentedly, dipped his fingers into the finger bowl andbrushed his lips.

  The son drank a cup of coffee hastily, lit his pipe, and went on deck. Heproceeded directly to the chart house.

  "Cunningham, I'll swallow my pride and ask a favour of you."

  "Ah!"--in a neutral tone.

  "The cook tells me that all the wine and liquor are in the dry-storescompartment. Will you open it and let me chuck the stuff overboard?"

  "No," said Cunningham, promptly. "When I turn this yacht back to yourfather not a single guy rope will be out of order. It would be a finepiece of work to throw all those rare vintages over the rail simply toappease an unsubstantial fear on your part! No!"

  "But if the men should break in? And it would be easy, because it isnearer them than us."

  "Thank your father for building the deck like a city flat. But if the boysshould break in, there's the answer," said Cunningham, laying hisregulation revolver on the chart table. "And every mother's son of themknows it."

  "You refuse?"

  "Yes."

  "All right. But if anything happens I'll be on top of you, and all thebullets in that clip won't stop me."

  "Captain, you bore me. Your father and the girl are good sports. You oughtto be one. I've given you the freedom of the yacht for the girl's sakewhen caution bids me dump you into the brig. I begin to suspect that yourmisfortunes are due to a violent temper. Run along with your thunder; Idon't want you hurt."

  "If I come through this alive----"

  "You'll join your dad peeling off my hide--if you can catch me!"

  It was with the greatest effort that Dennison crushed down the desire toleap upon his tormentor. He stood tense for a moment, then stepped outupon the bridge. His fury was suffocating him, and he realized that he wasutterly helpless.

  Ten minutes later the crew in their quarters were astonished to see theold man's son enter. None of them stirred.

  "I say, any you chaps got an extra suit of twill? This uniform is gettingtoo thick for this latitude. I'm fair melting down to the bone."

  "Sure!" bellowed a young giant, swinging out of his bunk. He rummagedround for a space and brought forth a light-weight khaki shirt and a pairof ducks. "Guess these'll fit you, sir."

  "Thanks. Navy stores?"

  "Yes, sir. You're welcome."

  Dennison's glance travelled from face to face, and he had to admit thatthere was none of the criminal type here. They might carry throughdecently. Nevertheless, hereafter he would sleep on the lounge in themain salon. If any tried to force the dry-stores door he would be likelyto hear it.

  At eleven o'clock the following morning there occurred an episode whichconsiderably dampened Jane's romantical point of view regarding thisremarkable voyage. Cleigh had gone below for some illuminated manuscriptsand Dennison was out of sight for the moment. She leaned over the rail andwatched the flying fish. Suddenly out of nowhere came the odour ofwhisky.

  "You ought to take a trip up to the cutwater at night and see the flyingfish in the phosphorescence."

  She did not stir. Instinctively she knew who the owner of this voice wouldbe--the man Cunningham called Flint. A minute--an unbearableminute--passed.

  "Oh! Too haughty to be a good fellow, huh?"

  Footsteps, a rush of wind, a scuffling, and an oath brought her headabout. She saw Flint go balancing and stumbling backward, finally to sprawlon his hands and knees, and following him, in an unmistakable attitude,was Dennison. Jane was beginning to understand these Cleighs; their ragewas terrible because it was always cold.

  "Denny!" she called.

  But Dennison continued on toward Flint.