Fighting Byng Part 24

Eagerly I raised them but at first could see nothing until I changed the adjustment on the lens, but it was so dim and nebulous I was afraid Scotty's imagination was working. However, I decided to wait a few minutes for the light to improve and then take in the surroundings. The _Monserat_ had been halted and was at anchor about a half a mile from one of the barren coral groups of the Tortugas. If what Scotty saw was the prize it had not drifted in the direction indicated by the charts. But if it was by chance the submarine and if the Mexican's intent on us last night was deliberate he might attempt some more tricks as soon as he saw it. I scanned the Mexican _Monserat_. Yes, there was surely a gun of some size in the stern, covered with a dirty sail cloth.

When I looked again in the direction Scotty thought he saw something I was convinced it was not imagination, and decided to go to it at once.

"Scotty, I believe I can make out something over there, too; but it may be only a coral reef sticking out; you know these waters are full of them. Take a position well off the _Monserat's_ bow and keep moving pretty fast back and forth so that he cannot reach you with his stern gun without weighing anchor. Give him the five-pound steel anywhere if he attempts to move, but keep out of his way, for that gun has you outcla.s.sed, and if he makes a hit you'll have breakfast with Davy Jones."

Scotty set his teeth hard and began to obey my instructions. "He's welcome to all he gets from me. All I wanted was an order from you."

"Be careful though, Scotty. So far we have no charge against her. All that happened last night could have been accidental, and that's the devil of it," I called to him as I gave the _t.i.tian_ her wings and started for the dim object three or four miles beyond.

Yes, it was Howard; he had managed, after tremendous effort, to let out the anchor of the prize and stood waiting for me, his long hair and beard reminding me of a sea-lion as he stood in the tower in water up to his knees. His eyes were bloodshot and he looked all the strain of his night's effort and days of sleepless endurance.

"I knew you would come at daylight," he said quietly as I came alongside.

"I tried to find you during the night, but was not successful."

"I thought so. It took me so long to swim to her that after getting aboard I guess I was unconscious for a time, but upon waking I finally got her hook out. I don't believe they have used the anchor since it was built," he said, after a long pull at the water I gave him.

As he ate almost savagely of the food, I told him what happened after he left, and if he was safe I must go and examine the Mexican and let him go if nothing irregular were found, as we had no right to hold him longer.

"Wood, that was not an accident."

"No, but knowing and proving is different. The flag is neutral on the surface and this farce must be suffered for a time."

"Well, you know best, but that fellow had murder in his heart, whoever he is. My anchor holds fine and plenty of water, perfectly safe unless it storms. We can pump her out here as well as anywhere," he added, somewhat softened, but yet terribly determined. What manner of man was this who could stand such punishment and exposure?

I could not hold the Mexican, though I was sure she carried Ramund and party. I never told Howard this until long after. They had picked her up at Vera Cruz for the deliberate purpose of running down and destroying us. The princ.i.p.al thing I wanted then was for her to proceed to the Nicaraguan port for which she was cleared and had Scotty trail her far past Key West to see that no one was set ash.o.r.e here.

We pumped out the prize successfully. The _Anti-Kaiser_ was able to tow her and I succeeded in getting a sub chaser to convoy it to a Northern port. I did not see Howard again until the case was about to be called for trial some months later.

CHAPTER XXVIII

History has been made so rapidly that those in the midst of it will not realize its speed for many years.

Unmasking the ambitious operations of Bulow and Company in the South led to swift investigation of other suspicious concerns. Every one had a well-worn path to the Transatlantic Banking Company. A monster serpent had boldly come out of the sea and coiled itself up in Wall Street, emitting foul, stuporous fumes as well as distilled poison through financial channels. The fatally faulty psychology of the Hun and cohorts misled him as usual.

One morning the country was electrified by the announcement that the Transatlantic Banking Company was taken over as alien enemy property, and a little swift work on their books revealed hundreds of millions more property, mostly manufacturing. The serpent lacked brains as usual.

Frequent announcements were made that sales of such property would take place either by auction or private arrangement, every time scotching a snake. The department wanted to convict Ramund, who was a director in the Transatlantic Banking Company, and it was my work to procure every bit of evidence bearing on his case, especially as it established that in Mexico Germans traded in everything from twelve-year-old virgins to highest executives.

I was taking some memoranda in the office of the custodian of alien enemy property and paying little attention to the auctioneer, who was selling widely scattered properties to a big crowd of buyers outside the rail.

However, I was instantly at attention when I heard the name Byng & Potter, Incorporated. The whole history of how the bank had deliberately robbed Howard Byng of his life's work, offered the apple to his wife and wrecked his home, instantly flashed through my mind.

The first bid was two hundred and fifty thousand dollars, but in less than ten seconds the auctioneer was calling five hundred thousand.

There was no more excitement than if he was auctioning a Bowery suit of clothes or fake jewelry.

A clerk who was working near me, well back from the rail, said it was a little connecting railroad that sent it up so high, as the other property was about nil in value. I kept on working where I sat but listened.

"Why is a jerkwater railroad exciting the bidders?" I asked the clerk.

"Well, it's leased and incorporated now into a big system."

"U-m!" I could understand now why the bidding had gradually crawled up to nine hundred thousand, where it hung again, when a bid of nine hundred and twenty-five was made, to be promptly raised by someone to nine-fifty. There was something in the tone of the last bidder that made me rise instantly and go to the rail that separated the buyers from the office.

I was not mistaken. It was Howard Byng, wonderful, powerful, great Howard, now of New York. He did not notice me at first. A man again among men, the clean-cut, prosperous Howard Byng, his masterly aquiline nose and ac.u.men coping with bankers where he belonged. The one I left in the Waldorf fifteen years ago, just before they stole his property and made him a lowly fisherman. I knew, though outwardly stoical, it was a glorious moment for him. Nine-fifty was the last bid and the property was his. As he came out of a corner near the clerk's desk he made no effort to conceal his triumph and deposited with the cas.h.i.+er a certified check for two hundred and fifty thousand, balance to be paid when conveyance was completed.

His eyes filled with delight and eagerness when he saw me. The greeting of a big man is never noisy. His eyes were dancing as he carefully folded his receipt. I knew how he felt by the way he continued to grip my arm when leaving, there being a warmth and firm magnetism in it that delighted me--of a real man who does things, who removes obstacles with a punch and a bang.

"Meeting you finishes it. I am satisfied. Let's go to the Waldorf. I want to sit in the same seat where I talked with you the last time. I am going to take up life from that point, where I started astray by not following your advice," he said, just as though our meeting had been arranged as part of that day's duties.

"Have you seen little Jim?" he now questioned, after we were seated in the same quiet corner.

"No; not since she left the Keys, but I know she is all right."

"Yes; she is safe and happy and learning fast. A teacher has taken a fancy to her and treats her like a daughter. No doubt, that is your work and I certainly appreciate it. I had to go back to the Keys to dispose of everything there, my store and tannery interests. She writes me the most delightful letters, one every day; in every one she mentions this teacher. She is a great girl, Wood," he added delightedly.

"You may well be proud of her, Howard."

"Have I got time to go down to Georgia with Don to get things started again where they left off fifteen years ago, before this case goes to trial?"

"Yes, I think so. Anyhow, I can reach you easily."

"That's one of the things that remains to be done; that man must be punished," he said savagely. "Fifteen years have changed me a great deal but I do not hate him one bit less. Killing is not enough for such vermin," he said with that deadly gleam in his eyes and the grinding of that wonderful jaw. His clean-shaven skin had a pinkish freshness and forceful virility. "And, Wood, another difficulty, strange as it may seem, presents itself--a great difficulty. I am a coward, Wood, a downright, craven coward." His fierceness softened and finally gave way to grave concern.

"What is it?"

"When I really came to myself--after five or six years on the Keys I was yet very bitter; I had envenomed acid bitterness against--well, about everybody. Little Jim was old enough to ask questions. She asked me about her mother. I told her she was dead--dead to me as a fact.

But lately, likely suggested by her a.s.sociation with this teacher and other girls, she has asked about her mother again and wants to see where she is buried. How am I going to meet it? And, moreover, how am I going to tell her that my name is not Canby? And how am I going to tell her--what led to it? Her mind is like a steel trap. Silence only emphasizes. What shall I do? I love the child so much I have a cowardly fear that she will not understand."

"Howard, I realize your feelings and have foreseen your difficulties.

I believe I can help you--possibly at the expense of your friends.h.i.+p--for a time----"

"That's impossible, Wood; you are one person to whom I must listen."

"All right, then brace yourself, for I am going to give it to you in allopathic doses. Howard, can you recall, when we last sat in this corner fifteen years ago, why I counseled caution, to 'play close' and let good enough alone?"

"Yes, just as though it was yesterday. You said I was due for a crisis, and I was weak enough to be convinced otherwise."

"Well--it so happened that I hit the nail on the head. You have been through fifteen years of fire and tribulations. I believe you have not only been fas.h.i.+oned into a splendid, valuable tool, but have been pretty well tempered, ground and whetted to a fine cutting edge. But it may be possible a little more fire is necessary to draw the temper to a point where it won't nick or crumble when it strikes something very hard. Do you understand me, Howard?"

"Yes, perfectly. I have made and tempered steel-cutting tools and know exactly what you mean," he replied eagerly.

"Well, you were about thirty then; you are forty-five now, and it may be you are in for another little time, through which your natural and acquired bigness will carry you safely, but not without serious effort."

"I understand; go ahead," he urged, moving uneasily.