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twg_000000037200 | of sand. "And what are those two bird-roosts on it?" asked Trendon. "See 'em? Dead against that patch of shore-weed." "Bits of wreckage fixed in the sand." "Don't think so, sir. Too well matched." "We have no time to settle the matter now," said the captain impatiently. "We must find that cave, if it is to be found." Hovering just | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000037201 | outside the final drag of the surf, under the skilful guidance of Congdon, the boat moved slowly along the line of beach to the line of cliff. All was open as the day. The blazing sun picked out each detail of jut and hollow. Evidently the poisonous vapours from the volcano had not spread their blight here, for the face | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000037202 | of the precipice was bright with many flowers. So close in moved the boat that its occupants could even see butterflies fluttering above the bloom. But that which their eager eyes sought was still denied them. No opening offered in that smiling cliff-side. Not by so much as would admit a terrier did the mass of rock and rubble gape. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000037203 | "And Slade described the cave as big enough to ram the _Wolverine_ into," muttered Trendon. Up to the point of the headland, and back, passed the boat. Blank disappointment was the result. "What is your opinion now, Dr. Trendon?" asked the captain of the older man. "Don't know, sir," answered the surgeon hopelessly. "Looks as if the cave might have | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000037204 | been a hallucination." "I shall have something to say to Mr. Slade on our return," said the captain crisply. "If the cave was an hallucination, as you suggest, the seal-murder was fiction." "Looks so," agreed the other. "And the murder of the captain. How about that?" "And the mutiny of the men," added the surgeon. "And the killing of the | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000037205 | doctor. Your patient seems to be a romantic genius." "And the escape of Darrow. Hold hard," quoth Trendon. "Darrow's no romance. Nothing fictional about the flag and ledger." "True enough," said the captain, and fell to consideration. "Anyway," said Trendon vigorously, "I'd like to have a look at those bird- roosts. Mighty like signposts, to my mind." "Very well," said | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000037206 | the captain. "It'll cost us only a wetting. Run her in, Congdon." With all the coxswain's skill, and the oarsmen's technique, the passage of the surf was a lively one, and little driblets of water marked the trail of the officers as they shuffled up the beach. The two slabs stood less than fifty yards beyond high water tide. Nearing | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000037207 | them, the visitors saw that each marked a mound, but not until they were close up could they read the neat carving on the first. It ran as follows: _Here lies_ SOLOMON ANDERSON _alias_ HANDY SOLOMON _who murdered his employer, his captain, and his shipmates, and was found, dead of his deserts, on these shores, June , . This slab | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000037208 | is erected as a memento of admiring esteem by the last of his victims. "And you can kiss the Book on that."_ "Percy Darrow _fecit_," said the surgeon. "You can kiss the Book on _that_, too." "Then Slade was telling the truth!" "Apparently. Seems good corroboration." The captain turned to the other mound. Its slab was carved by the same | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000037209 | hand. _Sacred to the memory of an Ensign of the U. S. Navy, whose body, washed upon this coast, is here buried with all reverence, by strange hands; whose soul may God rest. "The seas shall sing his requiem." June the Sixth, MXMIV._ "Billy Edwards," said the captain, very low. He uncovered. The surgeon did likewise. So, for a space, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000037210 | they stood with bared heads between the twin graves. V THE PINWHEEL VOLCANO The surgeon spoke first. "Another point," said he. "Darrow was alive within a few days." Captain Parkinson turned slowly away from the grave. "You are right," he said, with an effort. "Our business is with the living now. The dead must wait." "Hide and seek," growled Trendon. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000037211 | "If he's here why don't he show himself?" The other shook his head. "Place is all trampled up with his footprints," said Trendon. "He's plodded back and forth like a prisoner in a cell." "The ledger," said the captain. "I'd forgotten it. That grave drove everything else out of my mind." "Bring the book here," called Trendon. Congdon unwrapped it | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000037212 | from his jacket and handed it to him. The sailors cast curious glances at the two headstones. "Mount guard over Mr. Edwards's grave," commanded the captain. The coxswain saluted and gave an order. One of the sailors stepped forward to the first mound. "Not that one," rasped the officer. "The other." The man saluted and moved on. "With your permission, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000037213 | sir," said Trendon. On a nod from his superior officer he opened the ledger and took up Darrow's record. "Here it is. Entry of June 3d." "_Everything lovely. Schooner lost to sight. Query--to memory dear? Not exactly. Though I shouldn't mind having her under orders for a few days. Queer glow in the sky last night: if they've been investigating | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000037214 | they may have got what's coming to them. Volcano exhibiting fits of temper. Spouted out considerable fire about nine o'clock. Quite spectacular, but no harm done. Can foresee short rations of tobacco. Lava in valley still too hot for comfort. No sign of Dr. Schermerhorn. Still sleep on beach_. "Not much there," sniffed Trendon. "Go on," said the captain. "_June | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000037215 | . Evening. Thick and squally weather again. Local atmospheric conditions seem upset. Volcano still leading strenuous life. Climbed the headland this afternoon. Wind very shifty. Got an occasional whiff of volcanic output. One in particular would have sent a skunk to the camphor bottle. No living on the headland. Will explore cave to-morrow with a view to domicile. Have come | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000037216 | down to an allowance of seven cigarettes per diem. "June . Explored cave to-day. Full of dead seals. Not only dead, but all bitten and cut to pieces. Must have been lively doings in Seal-Town. Not much choice between air in the cave and vapours from the volcano. Barring seals, everything suitable for light housekeeping, such as mine. Undertook to | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000037217 | clean house. Dragged late lamented out into the water. Some sank and were swept away by the sea-puss. Others, I regret to say, floated. Found trickle of fresh water in depth of cave, and little sand-ledge to sleep on. So far, so good: we may be 'appy yet. If only I had my cigarette supply. Once heard a botanist say | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000037218 | that leaves of the white shore-willow made fair substitute for tobacco. Fair substitute for nux vomica! Would like to interview said botanist_. "The fellow is a tobacco maniac," growled Trendon, feeling in his breast pocket. "The devil," he cried, bringing forth an empty hand. Silently the captain handed him a cigar. "Thank you, sir," he said, lighted it, and continued | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000037219 | reading. "_June . Had a caller to-day. Climbed the headland this morning. Found volcano taking a day off. Looking for sign of _Laughing Lass_, noticed something heliographing to me from the waves beyond the reef. Seemed to be metal. I guessed a tin can. Caught in the swirl, it rounded the cape, and I came down to the shore to | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000037220 | meet it. Halfway down the cliff I had a better view. I saw it was not a tin can. There was a dark body under it, which the waves were tossing about, and as the metal moved with the body, it glinted in the sun. Suddenly it was borne in upon me that an arm was doing the signalling, waving | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000037221 | to me with a sprightly, even a jocular friendliness. Then I saw what it really was. It was Handy Solomon and his steel hook. He was riding quite high. Every now and again he would bow and wave. He grounded gently on the sand beach. I planted him promptly. First, however, I removed a bag of tobacco from his pocket. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000037222 | Poor stuff, and water soaked, but still tobacco. Spent a quiet afternoon carving a headstone for the dear departed. Pity it were that virtues so shining should be uncommemorated. Idle as the speculation is, I wonder who my next visitor will be. Thrackles, I hope. Evidently some of them have been playing the part of Pandora. Spent last night in | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000037223 | the cave. Air quite fresh. "June . Saw the glow again last night."_ The surgeon paused in his reading. "That would be the night of the 5th: the night before we picked her up empty." "Yes," agreed Captain Parkinson. "That was the night Billy Edwards--Go on." "_Saw the glow again last night. Don't understand it. Once should have been enough | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000037224 | for them. This matter of hoarding tobacco may be a sad error. If Old Spitfire keeps on the way she has to-day I shan't need much more. It would be a raw jest to be burned or swallowed up with a month's supply of unsmoked cigarettes on one. Cave getting shaky. Still, I think I'll stick there. As between being | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000037225 | burned alive and buried alive, I'm for the respectable and time honoured fashion of interment. Bombardment was mostly to the east to-day, but no telling when it may shift. "June . This morning I found a body rolling in the surf. It was the body of a young man, large and strongly built, dressed in the uniform of an ensign | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000037226 | of our navy. Surely a strange visitor to these shores! There was no mark of identification upon him except a cigarette case graven with an undecipherable monogram in Tiffany's most illegible style of arrow-headed inscription. This I buried with him, and staked the grave with a headboard. An officer and a gentleman, a youth of friendly ways and kindly living, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000037227 | if one may judge by the face of the dead; and he comes by the same end to the same goal as Handy Solomon. Why not? And why should one philosophise in a book that will never be read? Hold on! Perhaps--just perhaps--it may be read. The officer was not long dead. Ensigns of the U. S. navy do not | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000037228 | wander about untraversed waters alone. There must be a warship somewhere in the vicinity. But why, then, an unburied officer floating on the ocean? I will smoke upon this, luxuriously and plentifully. (Later.) No use. I can't solve it. But one thing I do. I put up a signal pole on the headland and cache this record under it this | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000037229 | afternoon. From day to day, with the kindly permission of the volcano, I will add to it.... Bad doings by Old Spitfire. The cloud is coming down on me. Also seems to be moving along the cliff. I will retire hastily to my private estate in the cave_. "That's all, except the scrawl on the last page," said Trendon. "Some | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000037230 | action of the volcano scared him off. He just had time to scrawl that last message and drop the nto the cache. The question is, did he get back alive?" "I doubt it," said the captain. "We will search the headland for his body." "But the cave," insisted the surgeon. "We ought to have found some sign of him there." | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000037231 | "Slade is the solution," said the captain. "We must ask him." They put back to the ship. Barnett was anxiously awaiting them. "Your patient has been in a bad way, Dr. Trendon," he said. "What's wrong?" asked Trendon, frowning. "He came up on deck, wild-eyed and staggering. There was a sheet of paper in his hand which seemed to have | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000037232 | some bearing on his trouble. When he found you had gone to the island without him he began to rage like a maniac. I had to have him carried down by force. In the rumpus the paper disappeared. I assumed the responsibility of giving him an opiate." "Quite right," approved Trendon. "I'll go down. Will you come with me, sir?" | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000037233 | he said to the captain. They found Slade in profound slumber. "Won't do to wake him now," growled Trendon. "Hello, what's here?" Lying in the hollow of the sick man's right hand, where it had been crushed to a ball, was a crumpled mass of tracing paper. Trendon smoothed it out, peered at it and passed it to the captain. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000037234 | "It's a sketch of an Indian arrow-head," he exclaimed in surprise, at the first glance. "What are all these marks?" "Map of the island," barked Trendon. "Look here." The drawing was a fairly careful one, showing such geographical points as had been of concern to the two-year inhabitants. There was the large cavern, indicated as they had found it, and | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000037235 | at a point between it and the headland the legend, "Seal Cave." "But it's wrong," cried Captain Parkinson, setting finger to the spot. "We passed there twice. There's no opening." "No guarantee that there may not have been," returned the other. "This island has been considerably shaken up lately. Entrance may have been closed by a landslide down the cliff. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000037236 | Noticed signs myself, but didn't think of it in connection with the cave." "That's work for Barnett, then," said the captain, brightening. "We'll blow up the whole face of the cliff, if necessary, but we'll get at that cave." He hurried out. Order followed order, and soon the gig, with the captain, Trendon, and the torpedo expert, was driving for | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000037237 | the point marked "Seal Cave" on the map over which they were bent. VI MR. DARROW RECEIVES "You say the last entry is June 7th?" asked Barnett, as the boat entered the light surf. Trendon nodded. "That was the night we saw the last glow, and the big burst from the volcano, wasn't it?" "Right." "The island would have been | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000037238 | badly shaken up." "Not so violently but that the flag-pole stood," said the captain. "That's true, sir. But there's been a good deal of volcanic gas going. The man's been penned up for four days." "Give the fellow a chance," growled Trendon. "Air may be all right in the cave. Good water there, too. Says so himself. By Slade's account | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000037239 | he's a pretty capable citizen when it comes to looking after himself. Wouldn't wonder if we'd find him fit as a fiddle." "There was no clue to Ives and McGuire?" asked Barnett presently. "None." It was the captain who answered. The gig grated, and the tide being high, they waded to the base of the cliff, Barnett carrying his precious | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000037240 | explosives aloft in his arms. "Here's the spot," said the captain. "See where the water goes in through those crevices." "Opening at the top, too," said Trendon. He let out his bellow, roaring Darrow's name. "I doubt if you could project your voice far into a cave thus blocked," said Captain Parkinson. "We'll try this." He drew his revolver and | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000037241 | fired. The men listened at the crevices of the rock. No sound came from within. "Your enterprise, Mr. Barnett," said the commander, with a gesture which turned over the conduct of the affair to the torpedo expert. Barnett examined the rocks with enthusiasm. "Looks like moderately easy stuff," he observed. "See how the veins run. You could almost blow a | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000037242 | design to order in that." "Yes; but how about bringing down the whole cave?" "Oh, of course there's always an element of uncertainty when you're dealing with high explosives," admitted the expert. "But unless I'm mistaken, we can chop this out as neat as with an axe." Dropping his load of cartridges carelessly upon a flat rock which projected from | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000037243 | the water, he busied himself in a search along the face of the cliff. Presently, with an "Ah," of satisfaction, he climbed toward a hand's breadth of platform where grew a patch of purple flowers. "Throw me up a knife, somebody," he called. "Take notice," said Trendon, good-naturedly, "that I'm the botanist of this expedition." "Oh, you can have the | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000037244 | flowers. All I want is what they grow in." Loosening a handful of the dry soil, he brought it down and laid it with the explosives. Next he called one of the sailors to "boost" him, and was soon perched on the flat slant of a huge rock which formed, as it were, the keystone to the blockade. "Let's see," | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000037245 | he ruminated. "We want a slow charge for this. One that will exert a widespread pressure without much shattering force. The No. , I think." "How is that, Mr. Barnett?" asked the captain, with lively interest. "You see, sir," returned the demonstrator, perched high, like a sculptor at work on some heroic masterpiece, "what we want is to split off | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000037246 | this rock." He patted the flank of the huge slab. "There's a lovely vein running at an angle inward from where I sit. Split that through, and the rock should roll, of its own weight, away from the entrance. It's held only by the upper projection that runs under the arch here." "Neat programme," commented Trendon, with a tinge of | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000037247 | sardonic scepticism. "Wait and see," retorted Barnett blithely, for he was in his element now. "I'll appoint you my assistant. Just toss me up that cartridge: the third one on the left." The surgeon recoiled. "Supposing you don't catch it?" "Well, supposing I don't." "It's dynamite, isn't it?" "Something of the same nature. Joveite, it's called." Still the surgeon stared | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000037248 | at him. Barnett laughed. "Oh, you've got the high explosives superstition," he said lightly. "Dynamite don't go off as easy as people think. You could drop that stuff from the cliffhead without danger. Have I got to come down for it?" With a wry face Trendon tossed up the package. It was deftly caught. "Now wet that dirt well. Put | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000037249 | it in the canvas bag yonder, and send one of the men up with it. I'm going to make a mud pie." Breaking the package open, he spread the yellow powder in a slightly curving line along the rock. With the mud he capped this over, forming a little arched roof. "To keep it from blowing away," surmised Trendon. "No; | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000037250 | to make it blow down instead of blowing up." "Oh, rot!" returned the downright surgeon. "That pound of dirt won't make the shadow of a feather's difference." "Won't it!" retorted the other. "Curious thing about high explosives. A mud-cap will hold down the force as well as a ton of rock. Wait and see what happens to the rock beneath." | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000037251 | He slid off his perch into the ankle-deep water and waded out to the boat. Here he burrowed for a moment, presently emerging with a box. This he carried gingerly to a convenient rock and opened. First he lifted out some soft padding. A small tin box honey-combed inside came to light. With infinite precaution Barnett picked out an object | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000037252 | that looked like a - calibre short cartridge, wadded some cotton batten in his hand, set the thing in the wadding, laid it on the rock, carefully returned the small box to the large box and the large box to the boat, took up the cartridge again and waded back to the cliff. They watched him in silence. "This is | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000037253 | the little devil," he said, indicating his delicate burden. "Fulminate of mercury. This is the stuff that'll remove your hand with neatness and despatch. It's the quickest tempered little article in the business. Just give it one hard look and it's off." "Here," said Trendon, "I resign. From now on I'm a spectator." Barnett swung the fulminate in his handkerchief | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000037254 | and gave it to a sailor to hold. The man dandled it like a new-born infant. Back to his rock went Barnett. Producing some cord, he let down an end. "Tie the handkerchief on, and get out of the way," he directed. With painful slowness the man carried out the first part of the order; the latter half he obeyed | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000037255 | with sprightly alacrity. Very slowly, very delicately, the expert drew in his dangerous burden. Once a current of air puffed it against the face of the rock, and the operator's head was hastily withdrawn. Nothing happened. Another minute and he had the tiny shell in hand. A fuse was fixed in it and it was shoved under the mud-cap. Barnett | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000037256 | stood up. "Will you kindly order the boat ready, Captain Parkinson?" he called. The order was given. "As soon as I light the fuse I will come down and we'll pull out fifty yards. Leave the rest of the Joveite where it is. All ready? Here goes." He touched a match to the fuse. It caught. For a moment he | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000037257 | watched it. "Going all right," he reported, as he struck the water. "Plenty of time." Some seventy yards out they rested on their oars. They waited. And waited. And waited. "It's out," grunted Trendon. From the face of the cliff puffed a cloud of dust. A thudding report boomed over the water. Just a wisp of whitish-grey smoke arose, and | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000037258 | beneath it the great rock, with a gapping seam across its top, rolled majestically outward, sending a shower of spray on all sides, and opening to their eager view a black chasm into the heart of the headland. The experiment had worked out with the accuracy of a geometric problem. "That's all, sir," Barnett reported officially. "Magic! Modern magic!" said | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000037259 | the captain. He stared at the open door. For the moment the object of the undertaking was forgotten in the wonder of its exact accomplishment. "Darrow'll think an earthquake's come after him," remarked Trendon. "Give way," ordered the captain. The boat grated on the sand. Captain Parkinson would have entered, but Barnett restrained him. "It's best to wait a minute | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000037260 | or two," he advised. "Occasionally slides follow an explosion tardily, and the gases don't always dissipate quickly." Where they stood they could see but a short way into the cave. Trendon squatted and funnelled his hands to one eye. [Illustration: "Sorry not to have met you at the door," he said courteously.] "There's fire inside," he said. In a moment | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000037261 | they all saw it, a single, pin-point glow, far back in the blackness, a Cyclopean eye, that swayed as it approached. Alternately it waned and brightened. Suddenly it illuminated the dim lineaments of a face. The face neared them. It joined itself to reality by a very solid pair of shoulders, and a man sauntered into the twilit mouth of | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000037262 | the cavern, removed a cigarette from his lips, and gave them greeting. "Sorry not to have met you at the door," he said, courteously. "It was you that knocked, was it not? Yes? It roused me from my siesta." They stared at him in silence. He blinked in the light, with unaccustomed eyes. "You will pardon me for not asking | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000037263 | you in at once. Past circumstances have rendered me--well--perhaps suspicious is not too strong a word." They noticed that he held a revolver in his hand. Captain Parkinson came forward a step. The host half raised his weapon. Then he dropped it abruptly. "Navy men!" he said, in an altered voice. "I beg your pardon. I could not see at | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000037264 | first. My name is Percy Darrow." "I am Captain Parkinson of the United States cruiser _Wolverine_," said the commander. "This is Mr. Barnett, Mr. Darrow. Dr. Trendon, Mr. Darrow." They shook hands all around. "Like some damned silly afternoon tea," Trendon said later, in retailing it to the mess. A pause followed. "Won't you step in, gentlemen?" said Darrow, "May | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000037265 | I offer you the makings of a cigarette?" "Wouldn't you be robbing yourself?" inquired the captain, with a twinkle. "Oh, you found the diary, then," said Darrow easily. "Rather silly of me to complain so. But really, in conditions like these, tobacco becomes a serious problem." "So one might imagine," said Trendon drily. He looked closely at Darrow. The man's | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000037266 | eyes were light and dancing. From the nostrils two livid lines ran diagonally. Such lines one might make with a hard blue pencil pressed strongly into the flesh. The surgeon moved a little nearer. "Can you give me any news of my friend Thrackles?" asked Darrow lightly. "Or the esteemed Pulz? Or the scholarly and urbane Robinson of Ethiopian extraction?" | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000037267 | "Dead," said the captain. "Ah, a pity," said the other. He put his hand to his forehead. "I had thought it probable." His face twitched. "Dead? Very good. In fact ... really ... er ... amusing." He began to laugh, quite to himself. It was not a pleasant laugh to hear. Trendon caught and shook him by the shoulder. "Drop | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000037268 | it," he said. Darrow seemed not to hear him. "Dead, all dead!" he repeated. "And I've outlasted 'em! God damn 'em, I've outlasted 'em!" And his mirth broke forth in a strangely shocking spasm. Trendon lifted a hand and struck him so powerfully between the shoulder blades that he all but plunged forward on his face. "Quit it!" he ordered | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000037269 | again. "Get hold of yourself!" Darrow turned and gripped him. The surgeon winced with the pain of his grasp. "I can't," gasped the maroon, between paroxysms. "I've been living in hell. A black, shaking, shivering hell, for God knows how long.... What do you know? Have you ever been buried alive?" And again the agony of laughter shook him. "This, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000037270 | then," muttered the doctor, and the hypodermic needle shot home. During the return Darrow lay like a log in the bottom of the gig. The opiate had done its work. Consciousness was mercifully dead within him. VII THE SURVIVORS Rest and good food quickly brought Percy Darrow back to his normal poise. One inspection satisfied Dr. Trendon that all was | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000037271 | well with him. He asked to see the captain, and that gentleman came to Ives's room, which had been assigned to the rescued man. "I hope you've been able to make yourself comfortable," said the commander, courteously. "It would be strange indeed if I could not," returned Darrow, smiling. "You forget that you have set a savage down in the | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000037272 | midst of luxury." "Make yourself free of Ives's things," invited Captain Parkinson. "Poor fellow; he will not use them again, I fear." "One of your men lost?" asked Darrow. "Ah, the young officer whose body I found on the beach, perhaps?" "No; but we have to thank you for that burial," said the captain. Darrow made a swift gesture. "Oh, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000037273 | if thanks are going," he cried, and paused in hopelessness of adequate expression. "This has been a bitter cruise for us," continued the captain. He sighed and was silent for a moment. "There is much to tell and to be told," he resumed. "Much," agreed the other, gravely. "You will want to see Slade first, I presume," said the captain. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000037274 | "One of your officers whom I have not yet had the pleasure of meeting?" The captain stared. "Slade," he said. "Ralph Slade." "Apparently there's a missing link. Or--I fear I was not wholly myself yesterday for a time. Possibly something occurred that I did not quite take in." "Perhaps we'd better wait," said Captain Parkinson, with obvious misgiving. "You're not | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000037275 | quite rested. You will feel more like--" "If you don't mind," said Darrow composedly, "I'd like to get at this thing now. I'm in excellent understanding, I assure you." "Very well. I am speaking of the man who acted as mate in the _Laughing Lass_. The journalist who--good heavens! What arrant stupidity! I have to beg your pardon, Mr. Darrow. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000037276 | It has just occurred to me. He called himself Eagen with you." "Eagen! What is this? Is Eagen alive?" "And on this ship. We picked him up in an open boat." "And you say he calls himself Slade?" "He is Ralph Slade, adventurer and journalist. Mr. Barnett knows him and vouches for him." "And he was on our island under | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000037277 | an assumed name," said Darrow in tones that had the smoothness and the rasp of silk. "Rather annoying. Not good form, quite, even for a pirate." "Yet, I believe he saved your life," suggested the captain. Darrow looked up sharply. "Why, yes," he admitted. "So he did. I had hoped--" He checked himself. "I had thought that all of the | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000037278 | crew went the same way. You didn't find any of the others?" "None." Darrow got to his feet. "I think I'd like to see Eagen--Slade--whatever he calls himself." "I don't know," began the captain. "It might not be--" He hesitated and stopped. Darrow drew back a little, misinterpreting the other's attitude. "Do I understand that I am under restraint?" he | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000037279 | asked stiffly. "Certainly not. Why should you be?" "Well," returned the other contemplatively, "it really might be regarded as a subject for investigation. Of course I know only a small part of it. But there have certainly been suspicious circumstances. Piracy there has been: no doubt of that. Murder, too, if my intuitions are not at fault. Or at least, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000037280 | a disappearance to be accounted for. Robbery can't be denied. And there's a dead body or two to be properly accredited." He looked the captain in the eye. "Well?" "You'll find my story highly unsatisfactory in detail, I fancy. I merely want to know whether I'm to present it as a defence, or only an explanation." "We shall be glad | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000037281 | to hear your story when you are ready to tell it--after you have seen Mr. Slade." "Thank you," said Darrow simply. "You have heard his?" "Yes. It needs filling in." "When may I see him?" "That's for Dr. Trendon to say. He came to us almost dead. I'll find out." The surgeon reported Slade much better, but all a-quiver with | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000037282 | excitement. "Hate to put the strain on him," said he. "But he'll be in a fever till he gets this thing off his mind. Send Mr. Darrow to him." After a moment's consideration Darrow said: "I should like to have you and Dr. Trendon present, Captain Parkinson, while I ask Eagen one or two questions." "Understand one thing, Mr. Darrow," | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000037283 | said Trendon briefly. "This is not to be an inquisition." "Ah," said Darrow, unmoved. "I'm to be neither defendant nor prosecutor." "You are to respect the condition of Dr. Trendon's patient, sir," said Captain Parkinson, with emphasis. "Outside of that, your attitude toward a man who has twice thought of your life before his own is for you to determine." | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000037284 | No little cynicism lurked in Darrow's tones as he said: "You have confidence in Mr. Slade, alias Eagen." "Yes," replied Captain Parkinson, in a tone that closed that topic. "Still, I should be glad to have you gentlemen present, if only for a moment," insisted Darrow, presently. "Perhaps it would be as well--on account of the patient," said the surgeon | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000037285 | significantly. "Very well," assented the captain. The three went to Slade's cabin. He was lying propped up in his bunk. Trendon entered first, followed by the captain, then Darrow. "Here's your prize, Slade," said the surgeon. Darrow halted, just inside the door. With an eager light in his face Slade leaned forward and stretched out his hand. "I couldn't believe | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000037286 | it until I saw you, old man," he cried. Darrow's eyebrows went up. Before Slade had time to note that there was no response to his outstretched hand, the surgeon had jumped in and pushed him roughly back upon his pillow. "What did you promise?" he growled. "You were to lie still, weren't you? And you'll do it, or out | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000037287 | we go." "How are you, Eagen?" drawled Darrow. "Not Eagen. I'm done with that. They've told you, haven't they?" Darrow nodded. "Are you the only survivor?" he inquired. "Except yourself." "The Nigger? Pulz? Thrackles? The captain? All drowned?" "Not the captain. They murdered him." "Ah," said Darrow softly. "And you--I beg your pardon--your--er--friends disposed of the doctor in the same | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000037288 | way?" "Handy Solomon," replied Slade with shaking lips. "Hell's got that fiend, if there's a hell for human fiends. They threw the doctor's body in the surf." "You didn't notice whether there were any papers?" "If there were they must have been destroyed with the body when the lava poured down the valley into the sea." "The lava: of course," | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000037289 | assented Darrow, with elaborate nonchalance. "Well, he was a kind old boy. A cheerful, simple, wise old child." "I would have given my right hand to save him," cried Slade. "It was so sudden--so damnable--" "Better to have saved him than me," said Darrow. He spoke with the first touch of feeling that he exhibited. "I have to thank you | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000037290 | for my life, Eagen--I beg your pardon: Slade. It's hard to remember." Dr. Trendon arose, and Captain Parkinson with him. "Give you two hours, Mr. Darrow," said the surgeon. "No more. If he seems exhausted, give him one of these powders. I'll look in in an hour." At the end of an hour he returned. Slade was lying back on | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000037291 | his pillow. Darrow was talking, eagerly, confidentially. In another hour he came out. "The whole thing is clear," he said to Captain Parkinson. "I am ready to report to you." "This evening," said the captain. "The mess will want to hear." "Yes, they will want to hear," assented Darrow. "You've had Slade's story. I'll take it up where he left | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000037292 | off, and he'll check me. Mine's as incredible as--as Slade's was. And it's as true." VIII THE MAKER OF MARVELS As they had gathered to hear Ralph Slade's tale, so now the depleted mess of the _Wolverine_ grouped themselves for Percy Darrow's sequel. Slade himself sat directly across from the doctor's assistant. Before him lay a paper covered with jotted | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000037293 | notes. Trendon slouched low in the chair on Slade's right. Captain Parkinson had the other side. Convenient to Darrow's hand lay the material for cigarettes. As he talked he rolled cylinder after cylinder, and between sentences consumed them in long, satisfying puffs. "First you will want to learn of the fate of your friends and shipmates," he began. "They are | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000037294 | dead. One of them, Mr. Edwards, fell to my hands to bury, as you know. He lies beside Handy Solomon. The others we shall probably not see: any one of a score of ocean currents may have swept them far away. The last great glow that you saw was the signal of their destruction. So the work of a great | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000037295 | scientist, a potent benefactor of the race, a gentle and kindly old heart, has brought about the death of your friends and of my enemies. The innocent and the guilty ... the murderer with his plunder, the officer following his duty ... one and the same end ... a paltry thing our vaunted science is in the face of such | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000037296 | tangled fates." He spoke low and bitterly. Then he squared his shoulders and his manner became businesslike. "Interrupt me when any point needs clearing up," he said. "It's a blind trail at best. You've the right to see it as plain as I can make it--with Slade's help. Cut right in with your questions: There'll be plenty to answer and | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000037297 | some never will be answered.... "Now let me get this thing laid out clearly in my own mind. You first saw the glow--let me see--" "Night of June 2d," said Barnett. "June 2d," agreed Darrow. "That was the end of Solomon, Thrackles & Co. A very surprising end to them, if they had time to think," he added grimly. "Surprising | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000037298 | enough, from the survivor's viewpoint," said Slade. "Doubtless. They've had that story from you; I needn't go over it. This ship picked up the _Laughing Lass_, deserted, and put your first crew aboard. That night, was it not, you saw the second pillar of fire?" Barnett nodded. "So your men met their death. Then came the second finding of the | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000037299 | empty schooner.... Captain Parkinson, they must have been brave men who faced the unknown terrors of that prodigy." "They volunteered, sir," said the Captain, with simple pride. Darrow bowed with a suggestion of reverence in the slow movement of his head. "And that night--or was it two nights later?--you saw the last appearance of the portent. Well, I shall come | 60 | gutenberg |
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