# Drowned Gold/Chapter 6

pp. 45–53.

### CHAPTER VI

"WELL," I said; "that seems to settle it! We'll lose that bucko at Samaña, in Santo Domingo, where I've got to touch. I suppose you know I'm taking the Mona Passage?"
He appeared to consider for a long time, with his broad chin resting on the backs of his broad fists, and staring vacantly into the outer cabin.
"I think it's Klein all right," he said; "but I'd like to be certain of it. One time I lost a billet, when I was younger than I am now by a whole lot, because I was blamed for something I didn't do. It caused me to change my rule. Before that I'd believed every man innocent till he was proven guilty. After that I thought all men guilty until they were proven innocent. But since I've got acquainted with you, I'm sort of wavering again, and wondering if I'm right in that rule of mine."
"What do you intend to do about it?" I asked, as I slipped my feet into my slippers. "Are you going again to change the lock on your cabin door? Why not substitute the one I have on my door? It is a Yale."
"No," he said, lifting his huge bulk to his feet, and walking across to the window, through which he stared out at the placid morning sea as he talked. "It's just because I'm going to try hereafter not to condemn any unknown man until I've got him really convicted, that I'm not going to do what you suggest." He stood for a moment more and turned around to face me where I leaned on an elbow on the top of my cabin dresser. "You see, I've concluded that I have taken the wrong track, because I was unjustly condemned. Hereafter I've got to be sure. I've got a plan up my sleeve, if I'm not asking too much of you, that ought to settle it."
He spoke the last as if reluctant to prey further upon my good-nature; quite like a man who was finding it difficult to break through the hard shell of a reserve that he had fostered to growth about himself, and that had become so indurated as to cut him off from all the outer world in which he lived and struggled, shell-encased, among his fellow men. The look he turned upon me, there in the sunlit cabin, was questioning; quite as if he were a child venturing upon questionable and unknown ground.
"There's a way by which we might make certain," he said, almost hurriedly, as if his prescription were tinctured with appeal.
"Well, let's have it," I said, somewhat annoyed by his slowness.
He did not regard my matutinal ill-temper, but hung an elbow through the window-ledge and released the tension on his legs.
"The back end of my laboratory is squarely under the outer cabin of your—er—somewhat luxurious quarters."
This Spartan, like so many others, found it hard to condone my luxury; but he hastened onward with a sure intent to speak his thought.
"I can run an electric contact over my outer cabin door, back through my laboratory, up through a hole in the floor, and connect it with a small bell that will tell any one up here when my door is opened. Then, if it were known about the ship that I spend my evenings up here—"
He paused, and I completed the sentence for him:
"We could sit here until the bell rings, probably in the evening, slip down, and catch the man—red-handed! You are right, Jim, and I think we should do it. I'm unhappy when I think there is some one aboard I can't trust, and shall remain so until we nab him. Can you do that wiring to-day?"
"By pretending that I'm ill and don't want to be disturbed."
"Then go to it! I'm just as anxious as you are to capture this gentleman, because I shan't be comfortable until I am confident as to who he is. I'll see that no one comes into my cabin to-day. That will give you freedom of action. If you are short of wire, you can rip out some of the electric light wire in here, because I can get along without it on a pinch."
He turned without a word of thanks, throwing over his shoulder a muttered "All right, Captain Tom, I'm sick to-day!" and walked out of my cabin. I shaved and bathed as usual, dressed and strolled outward. I breakfasted and sauntered back to our unregistered wireless room, for, with the exception of Jimmy, who was somewhat of an amateur, I was the sole man aboard who was master of the crafty and with the receivers at my ears listened to see what I could pick up that would be interesting. One operator was relating to another some gossip, which was that a certain ambassador in Washington had been given his passports, and across a hundred miles they exchanged their views as to the probability of war between America and a foreign power. I threw the receivers off and returned to my cabin. An unusual sound as of something grinding came to my ears. I listened more intently, and then jumped from my seat with a startled grunt, and stared at the floor. The sharp point of a half-inch bit had struck the sole of my shoe, and was now whirling upward through the carpet. Twisted Jimmy had wasted no time in putting his plan into execution. When the bit was withdrawn I dropped to my knees, put my mouth close to the hole, and called through it, "It's all right, Jimmy! It is through."
"Good! Stand by to take this wire," came the muffled response, and I did, thus assisting him in his meritorious enterprise. I pulled yards of it upward before he appeared, and had a boy's delight in assisting him to fix a small bell, properly stuffed with cotton to muffle it, beneath the top of my roller desk. Not until it was complete and tested did he favor me with a good, wide, free grin. We talked quietly for a time, and then I gave him some views of my own.
"It strikes me," I said, "that our time is pretty short. It would have been better if we had been disturbed sooner. We are getting pretty well south. We would like to catch this chap, whoever he is, the man with the smear, and throw him off at Samaña, where his claws will be clipped for a while. We shall be there in a couple or three days more, weather permitting. Let's hasten matters. To-morrow I'm going to have a birthday for convenience's sake. It's a rather unusual procedure to announce it aboard a boat, but, with one exception, there isn't a man on her who is not like one of the family. She's taken some chances since her first trip, and there's but one man on her who wasn't here when we first cleared port. In honor of the occasion, you shall dine with me to-morrow night in my cabin, and there will be just one big, wholesome drink of Ron Bacardi served to every man on her with which to toast my health. It shall be my steward's part to spread the news. It will travel fast enough. And I will let the news float about, also, that you are to be my guest for dinner, up here."
"Good!" he said. "Better than I could have thought of. The man we are looking for will take it for granted that I am out of my cabin for the entire evening. It will give him time to make his false key. We hand him his opportunity, and—nab him!"
He had but gone when I summoned my steward and told him of the fictitious, happy event, and casually let him know that he was to notify the cook to spread himself for the event, and especially for a dinner that I wished served to the chief and myself in my own cabin. I knew that the news would carry; for trivial things interest men who live in hulls. The chief did not appear on that day, but, early the next morning, went below with the announcement of his recovery. He told me, later, that Klein congratulated him, and advised him to rest quietly throughout the day, as everything was running smoothly, which he took to be a very questionable solicitude on Klein's part. It was apparent that Klein hoped the chief would sleep enough during the day to keep awake—in my cabin—for a considerable portion of the night. Truly birthdays are momentous events, and should be honored on the seas!
It was not entirely without a sense of shame at my deception that I sat down to the meal the "doctor" served on the following evening. When the last course was finished, it was late compared with our accustomed hours. The little bells of the clock that had stood on my mother's table quaintly chimed nine times when the steward cleared away, opened a bottle of champagne that I had ordered, and wished me a very pleasant good-night. We sat alone, Jimmy and I, hearing the stolid footsteps of the man on the bridge, and the peaceful sounds of a peaceful ship ploughing her way across southern waters under a southern moon. War, intrigue, and danger seemed as remote from us as if our ship had been shifted into some untroubled space. We nearly forgot that we were waiting for an alarm; hoping for the springing of the trap we had conceived so that all our doubts might be set at rest. If it proved inefficient, or if the culprit did not respond, then we must have before us further days of doubt in which to distrust and wonder who of all those around us in our little world could be our secret enemy. We were in no mood for conversation, and the taciturn Jimmy least of the two, and were leaning back absorbed in individual thoughts, when the faint voice from forward in immemorial custom of th£ sea wafted backward, upward, and through the opened windows, "Four bells, and all's well." The mellow notes of the bell were still echoing, when from beneath my desk came the short, muffled, and insistent rattle of the alarm. Together we leapt to our feet and ran out to the bridge and down the oak steps, the slippers which we wore making soft, clattering noises in the night. I had gained the lead, but Twisted Jimmy, with a longer stride, passed me before we whirled round the white corner of the superstructure wherein was his cabin and the improvised laboratory. There was a black, yawning space in its neat front, where his door was open to the pallor of the moon.
"By the Powers that be! We've got him!" he shouted, as he fearlessly jumped inside and with a practiced hand sprung an electric switch. Even before our eyes had ceased blinking in the sudden high light, a man with a handkerchief tied across his face appeared in the door and smashed the incandescent globe with something he had in his hand. There was a sharp report, a shower of glass, and a cry from Jimmy that was broken by a curious thud and a gasp, and he reeled back against me and fell. Something told me intuitively that he had been sandbagged, and I threw myself sideways in an effort to get out of the light from the open door behind, just as something whisked past my ear and dealt me a heavy blow on the shoulder. I bent and threw myself forward to tackle my assailant, fortunately caught him around the middle, and for a moment we twisted backward and forward, and once I tripped and almost fell over Jimmy's prostrate body. With a final heave I dragged the intruder back to the threshold of the door and out on to the deck, where we struggled to and fro, I trying to lift him from his feet and bring him to the deck with sufficient force to knock the wind out of him, and he trying to sandbag my head, but raining short-arm blows on my back. He was so heavy and powerful that for an instant I feared he would master me, and was on the verge of shouting to the bridge for help, when suddenly the old jiu-jitsu lessons at the Naval Academy came back to me. I pretended to relax, suddenly threw myself toward his left side, caught his upraised right, and then, gathering myself and whirling quickly, gave him one of "the deadly peril" tricks. Taken by surprise he struggled to recover his balance; then there was the sharp snap of breaking bones, as I broke his arm at the elbow, a scream of agony, and he fell to the deck just as the bridge officer came running around the corner of the deck-house, shouting, "Stop! What does this mean? What are you about there?"
Recognizing me, he stopped in amazement. I recovered my breath sufficiently to say, "Hold that man there! Don't let him get away if you have to kill him."
The mate at once knelt down to seize the man on the deck, and then looked up at me and said: "I don't think he requires holding, sir. He is either dead or has fainted. His right arm seems—"
"Good!" I said. "But don't take any chances."
A steward had joined us and I turned to him.
"Run up to my cabin, unscrew the incandescent bulb there, and bring it down to me. Hurry!"
I stepped cautiously into Jimmy's cabin, and struck a match. He lay on the floor face downward, where he had fallen. I rolled him over to his back and felt for his heart, and was vastly relieved to find that he was still alive. I tried to get him into his berth, but was too spent for the moment by my own struggles, and too much bruised by the repeated blows that had been showered on my back, dangerously close to the base of my neck. An inch or two higher, and I should have fallen as Jimmy did. When the steward arrived, he screwed the bulb into the electric-light socket, and together we lifted Jimmy into his bunk, where I gave him a hasty examination. It had always been his habit to wear a cap with a quilted top, presumably to keep his bald spot warm, and it had broken the force of a blow that, properly delivered, might have killed him. The steward ran to my cabin for some brandy, while I took the water carafe and doused the chiefs head. His eyes opened, and he was beginning to look around in a daze when the steward returned. The brandy revived him, and he staggered to his feet, running his hand over the welt on top of his head before speaking.
"What—what— Did you get him, Tom?" he asked.
In my anxiety I had nearly forgotten my captive, so now I hurried outside, where the mate was still standing guard over the prisoner. Jim came rather weakly after me, and sagged to his knees by the man's head, as I unbound the handkerchief tied across the latter' s face. We confidently expected to identify Klein, our new engineer.
"Good Lord!" exclaimed Jimmy, as if greatly disappointed. "That's Mike Cochrane, my best oiler, that I've known for more than five years."
His voice had the hurt tone of a child whose confidence had been betrayed. We carried Cochrane into the two cabins I had converted into a smoking-room for the men off duty (not caring to permit such indulgence elsewhere aboard a ship that had been carrying explosives), and laid him out on a table.
"Don't try to bring him to yet," I cautioned the mate, who was preparing to rouse the unconscious man with water. "Let him stay that way until I can look after that arm of his. It's apt to be a pretty nasty and painful fracture. Cut his sleeve away, while I get a pair of splints and some bandages."
The oiler was still unconscious when I returned.
"Heavens! How did it happen?" the mate asked, as I reentered the room. "I never saw such a break as that! He'll be mighty lucky if ever that elbow works again."
Even though Cochrane had done his best to kill both Jimmy and me but a short time before, I suffered a twinge of remorse when I set to work; for I, too, had doubts as to the future usefulness of that arm. Jimmy assisted as best he could, and all the time said nothing, but had that same hurt look in his eyes, the look of one betrayed.
"Here's what he did it with, sir," said the mate, returning from the deck, and held out a "sandbag" made of leather and encasing some pounds of shot. I judged from the size that Cochrane was a novice in the art of sandbagging, for certainly a well-planted blow with the thing he had used might have killed an ox. Jimmy's skull must have been doubly armored.
I was in the act of binding the splints on when Cochrane's eyes opened and he gave a painful groan. No one spoke to him, and I went on with my work.
"'Twas a most surprising twist you gave me wing, Captain," he said plaintively, and rolled his eyes toward Jimmy.
"And it's sorry I am to have had to bash ye, Chief," he added. "And glad that ye suffered no grea-a-t inconvenience."
"Sorry, you damned thief!" roared the chief, scowling at him. "Then perhaps you'll say what you were doing in my cabin?"
For a long time the oiler appeared to consider this point, although now tormented with pain.
"No, sir, I don't think I shall," he said at last. "But what will yez do with me now?"
"If you had your just deserts," I said, "we'd throw you overboard; but I'll leave it entirely to the chief."
The latter wavered; rubbed his injured head, and finally addressed himself to me.
"Suppose, sir," he said, "we lock him in the spare cabin, where he'll be comfortable until we can talk it over?"
"Small need to lock the door," said Cochrane, "because it's sure you may be that I'll not jump overboard. And for the kindness of yez, Twisted Jimmy Martin, I thank ye."