"'Who's the red chap?' asks Long Jim from Buckrow, when he knows I can hear.

"'Says he's out of a collier,' says Buckrow, speakin' loud a purpose so I can hear.

"The next I know, cap'n, Reddy was tellin' Long Jim that Buckrow never paid him that two bob for a round of drinks in the Flagship Bar before the cuttin'. Don't that sound funny? Then when Petrak takes the wheel I asks him if he knows Long Jim, and he says not afore he come aboard, and Buckrow says the same.

"They all lied; and ye remember how Buckrow helped Petrak with a knife when he was in a tight jam thar at the door. I put two and two together, and I'm here, Ezra Harris, your mate, to tell ye that they make four, and ye can't git away from it--and what's more, this Trenjum is in with the parson and the other three. Devil's Admiral or no, it don't look nice to me."

"Do you think Buckrow and the other two know about this, Mr. Harris?"

"It ain't clear to me, so far as that goes, but Trenjum and the parson do. I looks at it this way--they knowed ye didn't know, and that Trego might tell ye; so they ups and lets a knife into him before he can tell, and then we're up in the air. If I hadn't found it they'd keep us guessin' until they was ready to get in some more fancy work, the Lord knows what.

"That Trenjum is a slick customer--I don't believe he ever writ anything for a newspaper, anyway--he's too tall and strong-lookin' to make his livin' with a pencil. This Trenjum and the parson is in together for all of their lettin' on they don't like one another. What business has a writin' chap with his breeches full of pistols like he had in the saloon?

Ye can't tell me writin' chaps eats their meals with guns enough in their clothes to arm a landin'-party, no, sir!"

"A pretty pickle! Sally Ann, but I've got a nice mess aboard me, and I'm hanged if I know what it's all going to come to! I've half a mind to throw the whole lot in irons and work the ship with the c.h.i.n.ks."

"Now ye're talkin' like somebody," said Harris. "But go slow and git 'em one at a time when it's convenient, so they won't suspect nothin'. If ye go after the whole gang at once I'll bet ye have a fight on yer hands.

Grab one and then the other so ye'll git 'em separate: and keep 'em separate, so they can't talk it over, or ye'll have a peck of trouble on yer hands."

"It's no small matter to put pa.s.sengers in irons, Mr. Harris. They would make trouble for me when they get into port."

"They'll make a cussed sight more trouble for ye aboard here, is my way of lookin' at it. We got Petrak, anyway, for a start. He said Trenjum got him to do it, and Trenjum told ye Meeker had a hand in it. Just say one accused the other, and when ye come to find this aboard ye had to put 'em in irons 'cause it looked like they was hatchin' mutiny in the crew. Then we'll slam the other two in irons on suspicion, and they bein' crew, ye got a right to do that.

"What's the good o' bein' master if ye can't protect yerself and yer ship? Trenjum is safe enough, as it goes for now, but I'd make him fast below when we have the others, and see what sort of a talk he puts up. If we git 'em to tellin' on one another, then we've got the whole yarn out, and ye won't have no trouble with the port authorities. Don't that sound sensible to ye?"

"I don't see any other way out of it," said Riggs. "I suppose the best thing to do is to go up and take the parson. His room being next to Mr.

Trenholm's, the two of 'em will know what's going on, but we don't care.

Then we'll take Buckrow and Long Jim."

"I guessed ye'd see it that way, cap'n. I'm willin' to stand double watches and take the wheel myself, and, with the Dutchman doin' the same, we'll manage to get the old packet to port right enough."

"We'll go right up," said Captain Riggs, and I heard them move toward the door.

"Blow out that stinking lantern," said Riggs.

For an instant I had a wild idea of taking the key and locking them in, and then making terms with the captain, and arguing him out of the conviction that I was in league with Meeker, and offering my services in capturing the others. But I knew Harris could not be convinced that I was not in whatever plot was afoot, and that I could put no faith in any agreement Captain Riggs might make while the mate was with him.

Besides, I had borne out the mate's suspicions by being below spying upon them, and the wiser course would be for me to get back to my stateroom and let them find me there. Then I might be able to discuss the whole affair with them and prove that I was the victim of a plot myself.

As it was, I had lingered at the door too long, and Harris lifted the hook inside and nearly stepped on me as he stumbled into the dark pa.s.sage. I crawled out of his path so that when the three of them came out they were between me and the companionway to the upper deck.

"Where's the cussed key?" whispered Harris. "I thought I left it in the door."

"Light a match," said Riggs, and he began to move his feet along the deck. "Sure you didn't put it in your pocket, Mr. Harris?"

"Who's that?" cried Harris suddenly, and I was sure he had seen me crouching against the bulkhead. I was about to surrender myself and explain my presence below when I heard the patter of feet and somebody bounded up the ladder and crashed into a ventilator as he gained the deck above.

"Somebody been listening I'll bet my hat!" said Harris. "I've got the key--it dropped out."

He locked the door and they hurried down the pa.s.sage, Riggs telling Rajah to "go get him," and then I heard them running forward toward the forecastle as they got on deck.

I ran for the ladder as best I could, glad of the chance to get out of the black hole and wondering who could have been down there with me. I stepped upon something which slipped from under me, and I went down sprawling, sure that I had gashed my foot, for I had felt a sharp edge as I fell. I found that my stocking was not cut, and was getting to my feet again when my hand came in contact with the object which had tripped me.

I had stepped upon a large sh.e.l.l crucifix.

CHAPTER IX

A FIGHT IN THE DARK

Dazed for a minute by the discovery that Meeker had been lurking in the pa.s.sage while I was listening to Captain Riggs and Harris in the storeroom, I leaned against the companionway and fingered the sh.e.l.l crucifix, wondering how near Meeker had come to making an end of me. Of course, the finding of the crucifix down there, and the man who ran up the ladder when surprised by Riggs, meant nothing else but that Meeker had been below either before or after I followed the ship's officers down.

The fact that he was between me and the companionway was proof enough that he had come after I had taken my position at the keyhole of the storeroom, but if I was inclined to make theories and draw conclusions about Meeker, there were other things going on to distract my attention.

There was much shouting and running on deck, and, before going up, I listened in the hopes of learning what was taking place, but the roar of the sea, the throb of the engines, and the thumping of my own heart prevented me from making any sense of the tumult above. I had a fear that Riggs had discovered that I was missing from my room, and that he had found Meeker likewise absent from his quarters.

No matter what had come about, I was in peril as long as I remained where I was, both from Riggs and Harris and from Meeker and his a.s.sa.s.sins.

And no matter which side won above, whether Meeker was taken, or Riggs and Harris killed, I would be regarded as an enemy by the victors.

The best thing for me to do was to surrender to Riggs at once, and secure my pistols that I might get into the fight with him against Meeker and his henchmen.

That seemed to be an easy solution of my troubles until I considered that Riggs and Harris were certain that I was the most dangerous man on board.

Before I could say a word I might be seized and ironed, if not shot on sight. Perhaps the wiser course would be to get to my room and barricade myself until affairs were more settled, or until we had the light of day and I could know with whom I was dealing.

With one hand on the rail of the ladder and the other clutching the crucifix, I debated with myself about what I should do, while above me I could hear Riggs and Harris yelling to one another, although I could not make out what they were saying. I heard Harris say something about "the parson," and there were shouts from the bridge, and all hands seemed to be running over the main-deck like madmen.

I started up the ladder, bent upon learning what was happening and watching my chance to slip back to my room through the darkness. Before I had gone three steps I was halted by a terrific noise between decks in the direction of the storeroom. Several heavy blows were struck in rapid succession against a bulkhead, followed by a rending crash and splintering timbers. An iron bar rang on the deck-plates as it was thrown down, and there was a rattle of chains.

Going down the ladder again, I crouched in a corner, for I was sure that the racket below would attract the attention of Riggs and Harris, and that they would be down to investigate. I would have wagered that some one had broken into the storeroom containing the mysterious cargo.

Whispers reached my ears from the end of the pa.s.sage, and then I heard Petrak yell in his fretful, whining way:

"Hold it down, Bucky! Hold it down, ye beggar! It's my bleedin' hand ye got, will ye mind?"

"Dry up about the paw," said a voice. "Lucky for ye it's not yer neck in a rope. Can't break the chain, can I, 'thout givin' ye a twist, ye fool!

There it is now--right aft and on deck, Red, and follow me close! We'll git 'em off right enough when ye git above decks. What's matter if yer flippers are clear?"

Something rushed toward me in the dark, and again I heard the musical tinkle that made me think of chain-armour. I pressed my body against the boarding to be clear of the ladder, and made out the figure of a man, crouched down and feeling his way along the pa.s.sage. He stumbled up the ladder, and then I heard Petrak close behind him, panting and cursing, and the broken chains on his hands rasping along the bulkhead.

"Wait for me, can't ye? Bucky, wait for me! Stop a bit and give me a hand up--"

"Oh, come along and stow the gab," called Buckrow from the head of the companion, but in suppressed tones. "Keep yer lip shut, the afterguards are on deck here and I don't know where Thirkle is. Slip along and give us a hand with a knife or a gun. Looks like we'll settle the business quick now."

Petrak went up the ladder, his progress over each iron step plain to me by the jingle of the chains dangling from his wrists, and before I had settled in my mind what had happened the pair of them were gone. Buckrow had rescued the little red-headed man from the ship's brig.

I crawled up the ladder, still holding the crucifix, for it was the only thing in the form of a weapon I possessed, and the manner in which I gripped it improvised it into a hilted dagger, although I remember keeping it more for evidence against Meeker than for any other purpose.

If the sly rascal was still making a fool of Riggs, or denied that he had been below, I felt that his crucifix would be proof against him which he could not deny.