Read Ebook: A Crime of the Under-seas by Boothby Guy Wood Stanley L Illustrator

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and sadness. Happiness, because the mystery of the Phantom Stockman had been cleared up for good and all; and sadness, because of the pain that was inseparable from the discovery of a friend's duplicity.

When the meal was at an end we passed into the verandah. After a little conversation there, Spicer disappeared, to return in a few moments with a pick-axe and a basket of tools.

"What are you going to do?" I inquired, as he set them down in the passage and took off his coat.

"I want, if possible, to discover how those screams were worked," he replied. "It looks like being a long job; so if you will give me your assistance in ripping up these boards, I shall be very grateful."

"Of course, I'll help," I said, and thereupon we set to work.

But though we laboured for the best part of the afternoon, the result was disappointing in the extreme. Nothing but dry earth and wood-shavings confronted us.

"That being so, we'll take down the posts that support the walls on either side," said Jim, and as he spoke he attacked that upon which the lamp was fixed. "If we can't find anything there we'll continue to pull the house to pieces until we do."

"I see the whole thing as clear as daylight," cried Spicer joyfully, as he mounted the tree and prepared to lower himself into the hollow. "I believe we've solved the mystery of the shrieks at night, and now the whole thing is as simple as A B C. Go back to the house and listen."

I did as he wished, and when I had been in the passage about a minute, was rewarded by hearing a scream re-echo through the house, followed by a muffled cry, "Oh, save me! save me!"

As the sound died away, Mrs. Spicer came running into the house from the kitchen with a scared face. A moment later we were joined by her husband.

"Did you hear that scream, Jim?" she inquired anxiously. "I thought you said we should not be worried by it again?"

He put his arm round her waist and drew her towards him.

"Nor shall we, little woman," he said. "That scream was to let us know that the phantom is laid at last, and that after to-day this place is going to be as sweet and homely as any a man could wish to live in. That poor beggar in the hut there tried to keep it empty as long as he could for his own purposes, but I beat him in the end. Now I've got it for a quarter its value, and whatever else he may have done we must not forget that we owe that, at least, to our old enemy the Phantom Stockman of Warradoona."

The Treasure of Sacramento Nick

Walking the streets of Thursday Island, the smallest of the group, yet the centre of commerce and the seat of such government as the Colony of Queensland can afford it, you will be struck with the number of nationalities represented. Dwelling together, if not in unity, certainly in unison, are Caucasians and Mongolians, Ethiopians and Malayans, John Chinaman living cheek by jowl with the barbarian Englishman, Cingalee with Portuguese, Frenchman with Kanaka--all prejudices alike forgotten in the one absorbing struggle for the unchanging British sovereign. On the verandahs of the hotels sit continually men who talk with the familiarity of old friends about the uttermost parts of the earth, and whose lives are mainly spent in places to which the average man never goes nor dreams of going. If you are a good listener they will tell you many things worth knowing; and towards midnight you will feel stealing over you a hazy conviction that the nineteenth century is as yet unborn, and that you are listening to the personal narrative of Sinbad the Sailor in an unexpurgated form.

One afternoon as I was sitting in my verandah watching the China mail-boat steam to her anchorage, and wondering if I had energy enough to light a third cheroot, I felt my arm touched. Turning, I discovered a little Solomon boy, about ten years old, attired in an ancient pair of hunting breeches, and grinning from ear to ear. Having succeeded in attracting my attention, he handed me a letter. It was from my friend, McBain, the manager of a pearling station on an adjacent island, and set forth the welcome fact that he would be pleased to see me on a matter of some importance, if I could spare the time to dine with him that evening. There was nothing I could spare more easily or more willingly.

Once comfortably seated in the verandah, McBain explained his reason for sending to me. "You'll think me mad, but I've got a curiosity here that I want to examine before any one else gets hold of him."

"Black or white?" I asked, with but little interest, for we lived in a land of human curiosities.

"White."

"Nationality?"

"Cosmopolitan, I should fancy."

"Profession?"

"Adventurer, with a marvellous big A."

"Well, he doesn't seem to know himself. One of my luggers took him out of an open boat about two degrees west of the Ladrones."

"But he surely knows how he got into the boat? Men don't go pleasure trips across oceans without knowing whence they started. Hasn't he anything to say for himself?"

"That's just what I want you to hear. Either the man's a superhuman liar, or else he's got a secret of the biggest thing on earth. We'll have him up to-night, and you shall judge for yourself."

When dinner was over we took ourselves and our cigars into the cool verandah, and for half an hour or so sat smoking and talking of many things. Then a footstep crunched upon the path, and a tall, thin man stood before us.

McBain rose and wished him "Good-evening," as he did so pushing a chair into such a position that I could see his face. "I beg your pardon, but I don't think you told me your name last night."

"Sir, my name is Nicodemus B. Patten, of Sacramento City, State of California, U.S.A.--most times called Sacramento Nick."

"Well, Mr. Patten, let me introduce you to a friend who is anxious to hear the curious story you told me last night. Will you smoke?"

Gravely bowing to me, he selected a cheroot, lit it, and blew the smoke luxuriously through his nose. The lamp light fell full and fair upon his face, and instinctively I began to study it. It was a remarkable countenance, and, in spite of its irregularity of feature, contained a dignity of expression which rather disconcerted me. There were evident traces of bodily and mental suffering in the near past, but it was neither the one nor the other which had stamped the lines that so much puzzled me. After satisfying myself on certain other points, I begged him to begin.

He did so without hesitation or previous thought.

"Gentlemen, before I commence my story, let me tell you that when first the things I am going to tell you of came about, there were three of us: Esdras W. Dyson, of Milwaukee, Wisconsin, U.S.A.; James Dance, of London, England; and Nicodemus B. Patten, of Sacramento City, now before you. I reckon most folks would have called us adventurers, for we'd ferreted into nearly every corner of the globe. Snakes alive! but I've seen things in my time that would fairly stagger even you, and I guess my story of to-night ain't the least curious of 'em.

"Two years ago, for certain reasons not necessary to mention, we wanted to lay by for a while, so bringing up at Batavia fixed right on to the Nederlander. Java's a one-horse place for business purposes, but if you know the ropes--well, there's not a better place in the world to hide in.

"Now, gentlemen both, you may take it from me that there never was such a chap for browsing about among niggers, finding out what was doing, and if there was anything to be made, as Esdras W. Dyson, of Milwaukee, U.S.A.

"For two or three days not a shadow of a sign came from him. Then one of those Chinese hawkers came into the square with two coolies carrying his goods, and as soon as we set eyes on the second nigger we recognised Milwaukee, and stood by to take his message in whatever form it might come. Pulling up at our chairs, the Chinkey told his men to set down their loads, himself coming across to us with a tray of fans, scents, and what not; but seeing Milwaukee had a packet of slippers in his hands, we only wanted slippers. The merchant sings out, and he brings 'em over, handing one pair to Dance and another to me. We stepped inside to try them on, and, as we expected, in one of the shoes was a letter neatly stowed away. I forget now how it went, but it was to the effect that he had found out all he wanted to know, and that we were to meet him at eight on the Singapore Wharf at Tanjong Priok, bringing no kit save our revolvers.

"'Good boys,' says he, very quiet and careful; 'up to time, that's right. Now to business! D'ye see that schooner lying outside the breakwater? Well, she sails at daylight. I put the skipper and mate ashore not ten minutes ago, and they're to return in an hour. There's only three chaps aboard, and it's our business to cut her out before the others come back. D'ye understand?'

"'But what d'ye reckon to do then, Milwaukee?' I asked, for it seemed a risky game, just for the sake of a mangy Dutch trader.

"'Never you mind now; when I do tell you, you'll say it's worth the candle. Come, jump in here, and I'll pull you aboard!'

"As soon as the course was set and everything going smooth, Milwaukee made right aft to where Dance was steering. 'I guess it's time,' says he, 'to let you into the secret. You know me and I know you, which is enough said between pards. We've been in many good things together, but this is going to be the biggest we've sighted yet. It doesn't mean hundreds of pounds, but thousands, millions maybe; anyhow, enough to set us three up as princes all the world over!'

"'Sounds well; but how did you come to know of it?' we asked, a bit doubtful like.

"'At first he played cunning and seemed to suspicion I was after something. So one night I got him alone and--d'ye remember Hottentot Joe in the Kimberley?--well, p'raps I played the same game on this old cove, and when he was sound off I began to pump him all I knew. The old chap had been sailing pretty near to the truth, but still he'd kept a bit up his sleeve; however, I got that bit, and here's his chart as near as I can fix it.'

"So saying, he drew out a paper and held it to the binnacle. Then putting his finger on a coloured mark, he went on: 'It's a bit hazy steering after we get here, inasmuch as, being a nigger, he couldn't keep proper reckoning. But once among these islands, I guess we can't be far off the right one, and to find it--by God, we'll search every mud-bank in the Pacific! Accordin' to his fixin' it has a big mountain climbing from its centre, with a monster white rock half-way up, shaped like a man's fist. In a bee-line with the rock there's a creek running inland, big enough to float a seventy-four; follow that creek up a mile or so and you come to a lake, and on the other side of that lake's where the old barge ought to be. Now, what do you think?'

"'What do I think? Why, I think, Milwaukee, you are a fool to have brought us on such a rotten chase, and we're bigger fools to have followed you. The island, I guess, never existed, and we'll get stretched for this boat by the first warship that sights us. But now we are here, we'd better make the best of it. What do you say, Jim?'

"'I stand with you,' said Dance, and that settled it.

"To make a long story short, we sailed that hooker right on end for nigh upon three weeks. The wind was mostly favourable, the boat had a slippery pair of heels, and the stores, considering they were laid in by Dutchmen, were none too bad. Only one thing was wrong to my thinking, and that was the supply of grog aboard. If I had my way there'd have been a gimlet through the lot; but Milwaukee was skipper, and wouldn't hear of it.

"Tuesday, the thirteenth of January, saw the tether of the old darkie's chart, so we held a bit of a palaver, and settled to go on cruising about the islands which we were picking up and dropping every day.

"You folk who live inside this rot-gut reef don't know what islands are. Out there, you see them on all sides, pushing their green heads up to watch the ships go by, with the air so warm, the sea so green, and the sky so blue that it's like living in a new world. Birds of every colour fly across your bows all day, and in the hush of night, lying out on deck, you can hear the waterfalls trickling ashore, and now and again the crash of a big tree falling in the jungle.

"One forenoon while I was at the wheel, Milwaukee and Jim Dance fell to quarrelling. It started over nothing, and would have come to nothing but for that tarnation liquor. I sung out to them to stop; but it was no use, so leaving the hooker to look after herself, I went forrard. Before I could reach him, the skipper had drawn a revolver, and I heard Jim cry, 'For Gawd's sake don't shoot!' Then there was a report, and sure enough Dance fell dead.

"Can you picture it? Overhead, the blue sky, a few white clouds, and the canvas just drawing; on the deck, poor Jim lying as if asleep, and Milwaukee leaning against the foremast staring at him. Seein' there was no use in keepin' the body aboard, I called one of the Dutchmen aft and told him to fix it up in a bit of canvas. Then together we hove it overboard; it sank with a dull plunge, and so we lost the first of our mess.

"Milwaukee being too drunk to take his trick at the wheel, I stood it for him. A bit before sundown he comes on deck looking terrible fierce and haggard. Rolling aft, he says with a voice solemn as a judge: 'Sacramento Nick, you're a good man and true. On your Bible oath, may God strike you dead if you lie, did I shoot James Dance, mariner?'

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