The Devil's Admiral Part 7

"No daggers; but this is my right bower"--tapping the b.u.t.t of the pistol on my right side--"and this is my left bower," and I tapped my left side.

Mr. Trego burst out laughing at this, much to the discomfiture of Meeker, who glared at him, and edged away from me.

"And do you carry such death-dealing machinery, Mr. Trego?" asked Meeker, a sneer in the question.

Trego reached for his malacca cane. In an instant he had whipped it apart and presented a delicate point toward Meeker, who recoiled at the suddenness of the unexpected thrust.

"With me at all times," said Trego, when the captain stopped laughing.

"And my cabeen--eet ees one beeg a.r.s.enal, like you call it in your language. Yes."

"A pitiable example for the heathen," said Meeker. "I trust that you are not armed to the teeth, as the expression goes, captain."

"I don't want to spoil your appet.i.te," said Riggs.

"Of course, Mr. Trego needs those things, as he is--"

"A pa.s.senger," said Trego, giving the captain a quick glance.

"A pa.s.senger," said Riggs blankly. "To be sure, a pa.s.senger. Now, Mr.

Meeker, I wish you would say a grace, if it pleases you."

Meeker bowed his head and mumbled something which I could not make out; besides, I was much more interested in a little byplay between Captain Riggs and Trego, which began as soon as Meeker and I had piously cast our eyes downward.

It was a signal conveyed by Trego to the captain, in which he cautioned him to silence about something, by putting his finger to his lips, as if some subject were tabooed. Riggs nodded as if he understood. Before Meeker had finished, Trego looked at him and scowled, to convey to the captain that he did not like the missionary.

"The weather is going to be fine from the way it looks now," said Riggs, in an altered tone, as if he wanted to s.h.i.+ft the conversation into more congenial lines. "I trust we will all do our best to stay up to the weather in that respect--quick pa.s.sage and good company keeps everybody on good terms and in good spirits," he added significantly.

Then he began giving us the stock-jokes of the China Sea and telling stories of his younger days, when he had better commands than the old _Kut Sang_. He was a bluff but likable old sea-dog, but I saw that he observed Meeker closely as he talked, and I knew that he was none too well taken with him.

So the meal went on well enough. Night had fallen upon us with tropical swiftness, and a cooling breeze was blowing through the open ports, charged with the salt tang of the sea. The _Kut Sang_ was humming along, and there was a soothing murmur through the ancient tub as she shouldered the gentle swells of the bay.

The saloon was cozy and we dallied at table, chiefly because we did not like to leave while Riggs was telling his stories, although I would have preferred my cigar on deck.

There was something about the little party in the saloon of the _Kut Sang_ that evening that held my attention. To me the air seemed charged with a foreboding of something imminent--something out of the ordinary, something to be long remembered. I told myself, in a premonition of things to come, that I should always remember Captain Riggs and the Rev. Luther Meeker and Trego and Rajah, and the very pattern of the parti-coloured cloth on the table, the creak of the pivot-chairs and the picture of the j.a.panese girl in the mineral-water calendar which swayed on the bulkhead opposite my seat.

I can see them now; as clearly as if I were back in the old _Kut Sang_, with the chatter of the Chinese sailors coming through the ports to spice the tales of the China coast which Riggs kept going.

We picked up Corregidor Light, which winked at us through the ports as we entered the channel. Somebody looked in at the door of the pa.s.sage and Riggs waved a napkin at him.

"Tell Mr. Harris to call me if he needs me," he said, and then to us: "It's clear, and Mr. Harris, my mate, knows the Boca Grande like the palm of his hand."

He was well launched into another of his long yarns and had a fresh cigar between his teeth when the pitching of the steamer told us we were heading into the China Sea. We were clear of the channel by the time he had finished the adventure he was relating, and Trego was beginning to fidget. We all moved as if to leave the table.

"I signed the two men you brought aboard, Mr. Meeker," said Riggs. "What are their names?"

"That I do not know for certain," replied Meeker. "I believe the chap in the navy-pantaloons is known as--Buckrow, and the other, the tall Briton, is called 'Long Jim,' or some such name, by his companions. They both appear to be worthy men, and it made me sad to see them on the beach in Manila for the need of pa.s.sage to Hong-Kong, or some other place where they would be more likely to get a s.h.i.+p.

"That is why I interceded in their behalf, and it is very kind of you, captain, to make it possible for them to better themselves, for idle men in these ports fall into evil, and it is best that they should keep to the sea. They were both well spoken of by Mr. Marley, who has charge of the Sailors' Home."

"Two sailors that I see?" Trego asked the captain.

"Mr. Meeker brought two men aboard with him to carry his gear," explained Riggs. "They wanted to get out of Manila, and, as I was short-handed for c.h.i.n.ks, I let 'em work their pa.s.sage. They signed with the commissioner, and will get four Hong-Kong dollars for the trip."

Trego frowned as he toyed with a bamboo napkin-ring, but said nothing.

"Your red-headed chap is a good man at the helm," said Riggs to me. "He's got the wheel now, and, with the other two, I'll have good quartermasters. The c.h.i.n.kies are poor steerers."

"Meester Trenholm ees breeng a sailor, too?" demanded Trego, turning his black eyes on me in a manner that I could not understand.

"He brought my baggage aboard," said I, somewhat annoyed. "He offered his services to Captain Riggs, and was hired, and it is no affair of mine."

"The little man with hair of red?" persisted Trego.

"Decidedly red."

Knowing, as I did, that he had charge of the s.h.i.+p--a fact which he evidently wished to keep from Meeker and me, judging from his signals to the captain--I understood in a way his interest in the crew.

"Pardon, captain," said Trego abruptly. "I must go to my cabeen for some cigarettes. Soon I will return. I hope you will be here."

It struck me that his suggestion that Captain Riggs wait for him was more in the nature of a command than a request.

Rajah served coffee again, and the three of us fell silent. It was an awkward situation, for we all felt embarra.s.sed--at least I did, as a result of Trego's displeasure over the method of recruiting the crew.

I wished that I had left Petrak on the dock.

Meeker took an old newspaper from his pocket and unfolded it on the table carefully.

"I think I have something here which will interest you both," he began.

"It concerns--my gla.s.ses! Will you pardon me for a minute while I get my gla.s.ses from my room? I'll be back presently," and he bowed himself out.

"The old shark is funny," said Riggs. "I hold to what I have said about parsons--I don't like 'em aboard me."

I glanced at the pa.s.sage and wondered if I would have time to whisper to Riggs about Meeker before the latter returned.

"He wants to hold some sort of service for'ard this evening," continued the captain. "I'm suited if the crew is. It's not that I'm against the sailing directions in the Bible, mind, Mr. Trenholm, or an unG.o.dly man, for I was a deacon back home in Maine. I don't like this chap--he looks too slippery to suit me."

Meeker came back and closed the bulkhead door behind him, adjusting his gla.s.ses and picking up the newspaper as he took his seat.

"My dear sirs," he resumed, "I want to read this little article to you and then I'll explain it more fully to you. I am sure that you will find it of interest, Mr. Trenholm, as a literary man and a member of the press, even if in no other way, and you, my dear Captain Riggs, will be interested because it concerns the sea, and you may have some knowledge of the facts. When I was in Aden four--no, five years ago it was--I met a most remarkable gentleman. Most remarkable! He told me a story that was pa.s.sing strange, and--"

He was interrupted by the bulkhead door flying open violently and Rajah, with his hands thrown up and terror in his eyes, ran toward Captain Riggs, making frantic efforts to frame words with his lips.

"Sally Ann!" cried Riggs in alarm, jumping up. "What the devil has happened to give the boy such a turn! He's nigh out of his wits!"

Rajah pointed to the open door, but we could not see into the pa.s.sage beyond the triangle of light thrown out from the gimbal-lamps in the saloon. The boy ran toward the door and pointed again, and then drew back in fear, drawing his kris and raising it in a position of defence.

Captain Riggs ran to the door and I followed him, with my hand on my pistol, Meeker crowding against my shoulders. In the dim light oozing into the pa.s.sage we made out an indistinct figure.

"What in Sally Ann's name is this?" shouted Riggs, darting out and seizing the object, which he pulled toward the light.