Dialstone Lane, Part 5
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Captain Bowers, who had just caught the word, heard the full particulars from him next day. For once the positions were reversed, and Mr. Chalk, who had so often sat in that room listening to the captain's yarns, swelled with pride as he noted the rapt fashion in which the captain listened to his. The tale of the shipwreck he regarded as a disagreeable necessity: a piece of paste flaunting itself among gems. In a few words he told how the Fair Emily crashed on to a reef in the middle of the night, and how, owing to the darkness and confusion, the boat into which he had got with Stobell and Tredgold was cast adrift; how a voice raised to a shriek cried to them to pull away, and how a minute afterwards the schooner disappeared with all hands.
"It almost unnerved me," he said, turning to Miss Drewitt, who was listening intently.
"You are sure she went down, I suppose?" said the captain; "she didn't just disappear in the darkness?"
"Sank like a stone," said Mr. Chalk, decidedly. "Our boat was nearly swamped in the vortex. Fortunately, the sea was calm, and when day broke we saw a small island about three miles away on our weather-beam."
"Where?" inquired Edward Tredgold, who had just looked in on the way to the office. Mr. Chalk explained.
"You tell the story much better than my father does," said Edward, nodding. "From the way he tells it one might think that you had the island in the boat with you."
Mr. Chalk started nervously. "It was three miles away on our weather-beam," he repeated, "the atmosphere clear and the sea calm. We sat down to a steady pull, and made the land in a little under the hour."
"Who did the pulling?" inquired Edward, casually.
Mr. Chalk started again, and wondered who had done it in Mr. Tredgold's version. He resolved to see him as soon as possible and arrange details.
"Most of us took a turn at it," he said, evasively, "and those who didn't encouraged the others."
"Most of you!" exclaimed the bewildered captain; "and those who didn't— but how many?"
"The events of that night are somewhat misty," interrupted Mr. Chalk, hastily. "The suddenness of the calamity and the shock of losing our shipmates—"
"It's wonderful to me that you can remember so much," said Edward, with a severe glance at the captain.
Mr. Chalk paid no heed. Having reached the island, the rest was truth and plain sailing. He described their life there until they were taken off by a trading schooner from Auckland, and how for three months they cruised with her among the islands. He spoke learnedly of atolls, copra, and missionaries, and, referring for a space to the Fijian belles, thought that their charms had been much overrated. Edward Tredgold, waiting until the three had secured berths in the s.s. Silver Star, trading between Auckland and London, took his departure.
Miss Vickers, who had been spending the day with a friend at Dutton Priors, and had missed the arrival in consequence, heard of the disaster in a mingled state of wrath and despair. The hopes of a year were shattered in a second, and, rejecting with fierceness the sympathy of her family, she went up to her room and sat brooding in the darkness.
She came down the next morning, pale from want of sleep. Mr. Vickers, who was at breakfast, eyed her curiously until, meeting her gaze in return, he blotted it out with a tea-cup.
"When you've done staring," said his daughter, "you can go upstairs and make yourself tidy."
"Tidy?" repeated Mr. Vickers. "What for?"
"I'm going to see those three," replied Selina, grimly; "and I want a witness. And I may as well have a clean one while I'm about it."
Mr. Vickers darted upstairs with alacrity, and having made himself approximately tidy smoked a morning pipe on the doorstep while his daughter got ready. An air of importance and dignity suitable to the occasion partly kept off inquirers.
"We'll go and see Mr. Stobell first," said his daughter, as she came out.
"Very good," said the witness, "but if you asked my advice–"
"You just keep quiet," said Selina, irritably; "I've not gone quite off my head yet. And don't hum!"
Mr. Vickers lapsed into offended silence, and, arrived at Mr. Stobell's, followed his daughter into the hall in so stately a fashion that the maid—lately of Mint Street—implored him not to eat her. Miss Vickers replied for him, and the altercation that ensued was only quelled by the appearance of Mr. Stobell at the dining-room door.
"Halloa! What do you want?" he inquired, staring at the intruders.
"I've come for my share," said Miss Vickers, eyeing him fiercely.
"Share?" repeated Mr. Stobell. "Share? Why, we've been shipwrecked. Haven't you heard?"
"Perhaps you came to my house when I wasn't at home," retorted Miss Vickers, in a trembling but sarcastic voice. "I want to hear about it. That's what I've come for."
She walked to the dining-room and, as Mr. Stobell still stood in the doorway, pushed past him, followed by her father. Mr. Stobell, after a short deliberation, returned to his seat at the breakfast-table, and in an angry and disjointed fashion narrated the fate of the Fair Emily and their subsequent adventures. Miss Vickers heard him to an end in silence.
"What time was it when the ship struck on the rock?" she inquired.
Mr. Stobell stared at her. "Eleven o'clock," he said, gruffly.
Miss Vickers made a note in a little red-covered memorandum-book.
"Who got in the boat first?" she demanded.
Mr. Stobell's lips twisted in a faint grin. "Chalk did," he said, with relish.
Miss Vickers, nodding at the witness to call his attention to the fact, made another note.
"How far was the boat off when the ship sank?"
"Here, look here—" began the indignant Stobell.
"How far was the boat off?" interposed the witness, severely; "that's what we want to know."
"You hold your tongue," said his daughter.
"I'm doing the talking. How far was the boat off?"
"About four yards," replied Mr. Stobell. "And now look here; if you want to know any more, you go and see Mr. Chalk. I'm sick and tired of the whole business. And you'd no right to talk about it while we were away."
"I've got the paper you signed and I'm going to know the truth," said Miss Vickers, fiercely. "It's my right. What was the size of the island?"
Mr. Stobell maintained an obstinate silence.
"What colour did you say these 'ere Fidgetty islanders was?" inquired Mr. Vickers, with truculent curiosity.
"You get out," roared Stobell, rising. "At once. D'ye hear me?"
Mr. Vickers backed with some haste towards the door. His daughter followed slowly.
"I don't believe you," she said, turning sharply on Stobell. "I don't believe the ship was wrecked at all."
Mr. Stobell sat gasping at her. "What?" he stammered. "W h-a-a-t?"
"I don't believe it was wrecked," repeated Selina, wildly. "You've got the treasure all right, and you're keeping it quiet and telling this tale to do me out of my share. I haven't done with you yet. You wait!"
She flung out into the hall, and Mr. Vickers, after a lofty glance at Mr. Stobell, followed her outside.
"And now we'll go and hear what Mr. Tredgold has to say," she said, as they walked up the road. "And after that, Mr. Chalk."
Mr. Tredgold was just starting for the office when they arrived, but, recognising the justice of Miss Vickers's request for news, he stopped and gave his version of the loss of the Fair Emily. In several details it differed from that of Mr. Stobell, and he looked at her uneasily as she took out pencil and paper and made notes.
"If you want any further particulars you had better go and see Mr. Stobell," he said, restlessly. "I am busy."
"We've just been to see him," replied Miss Vickers, with an ominous gleam in her eye. "You say that the boat was two or three hundred yards away when the ship sank?"
"More or less," was the cautious reply.
"Mr. Stobell said about half a mile," suggested the wily Selina.
"Well, perhaps that would be more correct," said the other.
"Half a mile, then?"
"Half a mile," said Mr. Tredgold, nodding, as she wrote it down.
"Four yards was what Mr. Stobell said," exclaimed Selina, excitedly. "I've got it down here, and father heard it. And you make the time it happened and a lot of other things different. I don't believe that you were any more shipwrecked than I was."
"Not so much," added the irrepressible Mr. Vickers.
Mr. Tredgold walked to the door. "I am busy," he said, curtly. "Good morning."
Miss Vickers passed him with head erect, and her small figure trembling with rage and determination. By the time she had cross-examined Mr. Chalk her wildest suspicions were confirmed. His account differed in several particulars from the others, and his alarm and confusion when taxed with the discrepancies were unmistakable.
Binchester rang with the story of her wrongs, and, being furnished with three different accounts of the same incident, seemed inclined to display a little pardonable curiosity. To satisfy this, intimates of the gentlemen most concerned were provided with an official version, which Miss Vickers discovered after a little research was compiled for the most part by adding all the statements together and dividing by three. She paid another round of visits to tax them with the fact, and, strong in the justice of her cause, even followed them in the street demanding her money.
"There's one comfort," she said to the depressed Mr. Tasker. "I've got you, Joseph. They can't take you away from me."
"There's nobody could do that," responded Mr. Tasker, with a sigh of resignation.
"And if I had to choose," continued Miss Vickers, putting her arm round his waist, "I'd sooner have you than a hundred thousand pounds."
Mr. Tasker sighed again at the idea of an article estimated at so high a figure passing into the possession of Selina Vickers. In a voice broken with emotion he urged her to persevere in her claims to a fortune which he felt would alone make his fate tolerable. The unsuspecting Selina promised.
"She'll quiet down in time," said Captain Bowers to Mr. Chalk, after the latter had been followed nearly all the way to Dialstone Lane by Miss Vickers, airing her grievance and calling upon him to remedy it. "Once she realizes the fact that the ship is lost, she'll be all right."
Mr. Chalk looked unconvinced. "She doesn't want to realize it," he said, shaking his head.
"She'll be all right in time," repeated the captain; "and after all, you know," he added, with gentle severity, "you deserve to suffer a little. You had no business with that map."
CHAPTER XXIII
On a fine afternoon towards the end of the following month Captain Brisket and Mr. Duckett sat outside the Swan and Bottle Inn, Holemouth, a small port forty miles distant from Biddlecombe. The day was fine, with just a touch of crispness in the air to indicate the waning of the year, and, despite a position regarded by the gloomy Mr. Duckett as teeming with perils, the captain turned a bright and confident eye on the Fair Emily, anchored in the harbour.
"We ought to have gone straight to Biddlecombe," said Mr. Duckett, following his glance; "it would have looked better. Not that anything'll make much difference."
"And everybody in a flutter of excitement telegraphing off to the owners," commented the captain. "No, we'll tell our story first; quiet and comfortable-like. Say it over again."
"I've said it three times," objected Mr. Duckett; "and each time it sounds more unreal than ever."
"It'll be all right," said Brisket, puffing at his cigar. "Besides, we've got no choice. It's that or ruin, and there's nobody within thousands of miles to contradict us. We bring both the ship and the map back to 'em. What more can they ask?"
"You'll soon know," said the pessimistic Mr. Duckett. "I wonder whether they'll have another shot for the treasure when they get that map back?" "I should like to send that Captain Bowers out searching for it," said Brisket, scowling, "and keep him out there till he finds it. It's all his fault. If it hadn't been for his cock-and-bull story we shouldn't ha' done what we did. Hanging's too good for him."
"I suppose it's best for them not to know that there's no such island?" hazarded Mr. Duckett.
"O' course," snapped his companion. "Looks better for us, don't it, giving them back a map worth half a million. Now go through the yarn again and I'll see whether I can pick any holes in it. The train goes in half an hour."
Mr. Duckett sighed and, first emptying his mug, began a monotonous recital. Brisket listened attentively.
"We were down below asleep when the men came running down and overpowered us. They weighed anchor at night, and following morning made you, by threats, promise to steer them to the island. You told me on the quiet that you'd die before you betrayed the owners' trust. How did they know that the island the gentlemen were on wasn't the right one? Because Sam Betts was standing by when you told me you'd made a mistake in your reckoning and said we'd better go ashore and tell them."
"That's all right so far, I think," said Brisket, nodding.
"We sailed about and tried island after island just to satisfy the men and seize our opportunity," continued Mr. Duckett, with a weary air. "At last, one day, when they were all drunk ashore, we took the map, shipped these natives, and sailed back to the island to rescue the owners. Found they'd gone when we got there. Mr. Stobell's boot and an old pair of braces produced in proof."
"Better wrap it up in a piece o' newspaper," said Brisket, stooping and producing the relic in question from under the table.
"Shipped four white men at Viti Levu and sailed for home," continued Mr. Duckett. "Could have had more, but wanted to save owners' pockets, and worked like A.B.'s ourselves to do so."
"Let'em upset that if they can," said Brisket, with a confident smile. "The crew are scattered, and if they happened to get one of them it's only his word against ours. Wait a bit. How did the crew know of the treasure?"
"Chalk told you," responded the obedient Duckett. "And if he told you —and he can't deny it—why not them?"
Captain Briskett nodded approval. "It's all right as far as I can see," he said, cautiously. "But mind. Leave the telling of it to me. You can just chip in with little bits here and there. Now let's get under way."
He threw away the stump of his cigar and rose, turning as he reached the corner for a lingering glance at the Fair Emily.
"Scrape her and clean her and she'd be as good as ever," he said, with a sigh. "She's just the sort o' little craft you and me could ha' done with, Peter."
They had to change twice on the way to Binchester, and at each stopping-place Mr. Duckett, a prey to nervousness, suggested the wisdom of disappearing while they had the opportunity.
"Disappear and starve, I suppose?" grunted the scornful Brisket. "What about my certificate? and yours, too? I tell you it's our only chance."
He walked up the path to Mr. Chalk's house with a swagger which the mate endeavoured in vain to imitate. Mr. Chalk was out, but the captain, learning that he was probably to be found at Dialstone Lane, decided to follow him there rather than first take his tidings to Stobell or Tredgold. With the idea of putting Mr. Duckett at his ease he talked on various matters as they walked, and, arrived at Dialstone Lane, even stopped to point out the picturesque appearance its old houses made in the moonlight.
"This is where the old pirate who made the map lives," he whispered, as he reached the door. "If he's got anything to say I'll tackle him about that. Now, pull yourself together!"
He knocked loudly on the door with his fist. A murmur of voices stopped suddenly, and, in response to a gruff command from within, he opened the door and stood staring at all three of his victims, who were seated at the table playing whist with Captain Bowers.
The three gentlemen stared back in return. Tredgold and Chalk had half risen from their seats; Mr. Stobell, with both arms on the table, leaned forward, and regarded him open-mouthed.
"Good evening, gentlemen all," said Captain Brisket, in a hearty voice.
He stepped forward, and seizing Mr. Chalk's hand wrung it fervently.
"It's good for sore eyes to see you again, sir," he said. "Look at him, Peter!"
Mr. Duckett, ignoring this reflection on his personal appearance, stepped quietly inside the door, and stood smiling nervously at the company.
"It's him," said the staring Mr. Stobell, drawing a deep breath. "It's Brisket."
He pushed his chair back and, rising slowly from the table, confronted him. Captain Brisket, red-faced and confident, stared up at him composedly.
"It's Brisket," said Mr. Stobell again, in a voice of deep content. "Turn the key in that door, Chalk."
Mr. Chalk hesitated, but Brisket, stepping to the door, turned the key and, placing it on the table, returned to his place by the side of the mate. Except for a hard glint in his eye his face still retained its smiling composure.
"And now," said Stobell, "you and me have got a word or two to say to each other. I haven't had the pleasure of seeing your ugly face since—"
"Since the disaster," interrupted Tredgold, loudly and hastily.
"Since the–"
Mr. Stobell suddenly remembered. For a few moments he stood irresolute, and then, with an extraordinary contortion of visage, dropped into his chair again and sat gazing blankly before him.
"Me and Peter Duckett only landed to-day," said Brisket, "and we came on to see you by the first train we could—"
"I know," said Tredgold, starting up and taking his hand, "and we're delighted to see you are safe. And Mr. Duckett?—"
He found Mr. Duckett's hand after a little trouble—the owner seeming to think that he wanted it for some unlawful purpose—and shook that. Captain Brisket, considerably taken aback by this performance, gazed at him with suspicion.
"You didn't go down with your ship, then, after all," said Captain Bowers, who had been looking on with much interest.
Amazement held Brisket dumb. He turned and eyed Duckett inquiringly. Then Tredgold, with his back to the others, caught his eye and frowned significantly.
"If Captain Brisket didn't go down with it I am sure that he was the last man to leave it," he said, kindly; "and Mr. Duckett last but one."
Mr. Duckett, distrustful of these compliments, cast an agonized glance at the door.
"Stobell was a bit rough just now," said Tredgold, with another warning glance at Brisket, "but he didn't like being shipwrecked."
Brisket gazed at the door in his turn. He had an uncomfortable feeling that he was being played with.
"It's nothing much to like," he said, at last, but—"
"Tell us how you escaped," said Tredgold; "or, perhaps," he continued, hastily, as Brisket was about to speak—"perhaps you would like first to hear how we did."
"Perhaps that would be better," said the perplexed Brisket.
He nudged the mate with his elbow, and Mr. Tredgold, still keeping him under the spell of his eye, began with great rapidity to narrate the circumstances attending the loss of the Fair Emily. After one irrepressible grunt of surprise Captain Brisket listened without moving a muscle, but the changes on Mr. Duckett's face were so extraordinary that on several occasions the narrator faltered and lost the thread of his discourse. At such times Mr. Chalk took up the story, and once, when both seemed at a loss, a growling contribution came from Mr. Stobell.
"Of course, you got away in the other boat," said Tredgold, nervously, when he had finished.
Brisket looked round shrewdly, his wits hard at work. Already the advantages of adopting a story which he supposed to have been concocted for the benefit of Captain Bowers were beginning to multiply in his ready brain.
"And didn't see us owing to the darkness," prompted Tredgold, with a glance at Mr. Joseph Tasker, who was lingering by the door after bringing in some whisky.
"You're quite right, sir," said Brisket, after a trying pause. "I didn't see you."
Unasked he took a chair, and with crossed legs and folded arms surveyed the company with a broad smile.
"You're a fine sort of shipmaster," exclaimed the indignant Captain Bowers. "First you throw away your ship, and then you let your passengers shift for themselves."
"I am responsible to my owners," said Brisket. "Have you any fault to find with me, gentlemen?" he demanded, turning on them with a frown.
Tredgold and Chalk hastened to reassure him.
"In the confusion the boat got adrift," said Brisket. "You've got their own word for it. Not that they didn't behave well for landsmen: Mr. Chalk's pluck was wonderful, and Mr. Tredgold was all right."
Mr. Stobell turned a dull but ferocious eye upon him.
"And you all got off in the other boat," said Tredgold. "I'm very glad."
Captain Brisket looked at him, but made no reply. The problem of how to make the best of the situation was occupying all his attention.
"Me and Peter Duckett would be glad of some of our pay," he said, at last.
"Pay?" repeated Tredgold, in a dazed voice.
Brisket looked at him again, and then gave a significant glance in the direction of Captain Bowers. "We'd like twenty pounds on account—now," he said, calmly.
Tredgold looked hastily at his friends. "Come and see me to-morrow," he said, nervously, "and we'll settle things."
"You can send us the rest," said Brisket, "but we want that now. We're off to-night."
"But we must see you again," said Tredgold, who was anxious to make arrangements about the schooner. "We—we've got a lot of things to talk about. The—the ship, for instance."
"I'll talk about her now if you want me to," said Brisket, with unpleasant readiness. "Meantime, we'd like that money."
Fortunately—or unfortunately—Tredgold had been to his bank that morning, and, turning a deaf ear to the expostulations of Captain Bowers, he produced his pocketbook, and after a consultation with Mr. Chalk, and an attempt at one with the raging Stobell, counted out the money and handed it over.
"And there is an I.O.U. for the remainder," he said, with an attempt at a smile, as he wrote on a slip of paper.
Brisket took it with pleased surprise, and the mate, leaning against his shoulder, read the contents: "Where is the 'Fair Emily'?"
"You might as well give me a receipt," said Tredgold, significantly, as he passed over pencil and paper.
Captain Brisket thanked him and, sucking the pencil, eyed him thoughtfully. Then he bent to the table and wrote.
"You sign here, Peter," he said.
Mr. Tredgold smiled at the precaution, but the smile faded when he took the paper. It was a correctly worded receipt for twenty pounds. He began to think that he had rated the captain's intelligence somewhat too highly.
"Ah, we've had a hard time of it," said Brisket, putting the notes into his breast-pocket and staring hard at Captain Bowers. "When that little craft went down, of course I went down with her. How I got up I don't know, but when I did there was Peter hanging over the side of the boat and pulling me in by the hair."
He paused to pat the mate on the shoulder.
"Unfortunately for us we took a different direction to you, sir," he continued, turning to Tredgold, "and we were pulling for six days before we were picked up by a barque bound for Melbourne. By the time she sighted us we were reduced to half a biscuit a day each and two teaspoonfuls o' water, and not a man grumbled. Did they, Peter?"
"Not a man," said Mr. Duckett.
"At Melbourne," said the captain, who was in a hurry to be off, "we all separated, and Duckett and me worked our way home on a cargo-boat. We always stick together, Peter and me."
"And always will," said Mr. Duckett, with a little emotion as he gazed meaningly at the captain's breast-pocket.
"When I think o' that little craft lying all those fathoms down," continued the captain, staring full at Mr. Tredgold, "it hurts me. The nicest little craft of her kind I ever handled. Well—so long, gentlemen."
"We shall see you to-morrow," said Tredgold, hastily, as the captain rose.
Brisket shook his head.
"Me and Peter are very busy," he said, softly. "We've been putting our little bit o' savings together to buy a schooner, and we want to settle things as soon as possible."