Читать книгу In White Raiment - Le Queux William - Страница 6

Strange noises aroused me slowly to a sense of my helplessness. My head seemed heavy as lead, my brain incapable of receiving any impression, my throat contracted as though by a diphtheritic swelling.

A low continued roaring sounded in my ears, accompanied by a curious unusual jarring. Slow to fully realise my position, it was some moments before I became convinced that the regular throbbing beneath my head was caused by machinery, and that the steady motion to and fro was the rocking of the waves.

I opened my eyes and found that it was broad daylight. To the left was a round opening closed by glass – a porthole through which the summer sun was shining, its rays being shut out now and then by the bright green water that rose against it as the waves hissed past. I was on board a ship at sea. The cabin was a narrow, rather dirty place, and the mattress on which I was lying was hard, being filled with straw. It was not a passenger cabin, that was certain, for the beams across were black and dirty, and swinging on a nail were a set of unclean yellow oil-skins and a sou’-wester.

So sudden and unaccountable had been my transition from the bed-chamber in that mysterious house of the Wynds’, wherein my wife had been murdered, to that narrow pallet out at sea, that at first I could not believe it possible. I raised myself and looked around in wonder, half inclined to believe that the past events had been but a dream.

In that instant all the curious circumstances which had followed my call to the house with the big portico came vividly before me in rapid succession, the crafty actions of the Tempter and my wife’s marvellous beauty most of all. With her, I had fallen a victim to the two ingenious conspirators, her father and the Major. It had, no doubt, been intended that I should die; yet certain of the Tempter’s actions seemed out of keeping with the others, thus rendering the enigma more complete.

The pains in my head and the swelling in my mouth and throat were sufficient, however, to prove that the past was no chimera of the imagination. I had met with an adventure stranger, perhaps, than that experienced by any other man, for I had been both bridegroom and widower within an hour.

With some little difficulty I rose, but my legs were weak and cramped, and this, combined with the rolling of the ship, caused me to quickly seat myself on the edge of the narrow berth. My nerves were unstrung, my brain dulled, and the giddiness that seized me was such as I had never before experienced. It was not mal de mer, for I had travelled much by sea and had never experienced nausea, even in roughest weather. No; I had, by moistening the cigarette with the saliva, absorbed a strong dose of some anaesthetic, and its effect had been to a great extent irritant as well. Only my robust constitution had succeeded in throwing it off; the dose must, I felt confident, have killed a weaker man.

In a few minutes I succeeded in standing erect, and struggled to the cabin door. I turned the handle, but could not open it. I was locked in.

Again I seated myself upon my mattress and tried to calmly review the situation. Of a sudden I bethought myself of the amulet I had taken from the neck of my dead wife, and thrusting my hand into my pocket, was gratified to find it still there, together with a pair of white gloves that the Tempter had given me.

I took it out and carefully examined it. The chain was a very fine but strong one, and the curious little charm of plain gold on that side that would lay against the skin, was beautifully set with diamonds which now sparkled and flashed with a thousand fires in the brilliant sunset. About an inch and a half long, it was of most delicate workmanship. I had seen in jewellers’ windows in Bond Street and Regent Street many articles of jewellery – brooches, breast-pins, and the like – in the form of a note of interrogation, but never one made in this manner. It was different to all the others, a costly ornament without doubt, for all the stones were well matched, and, as far as I could judge, not being an expert, of the first water.

What was its significance, I wondered, as it lay in the palm of my hand. It was a souvenir of her – a souvenir of the woman who was my legal wife, and who had fallen a victim beneath the cruel hand of an assassin.

The crumpled scrap of paper I had also secured I brought from my pocket and likewise examined. The words upon it were in a man’s hand without a doubt – an educated hand which, by its angularity and the formation of the letters might possibly have been acquired on the Continent.

“I have seen La Gioia!”

The words conveyed some distinct message or warning which I could not determine. One fact was, however, plain; if I could discover this mysterious “La Gioia,” be she a woman or an object, I might perhaps ascertain the true meaning of the words, the reason they were penned, and the motive Beryl had in thus treasuring them beneath her pillow.

A desire possessed me to escape from that narrow place wherein the air was stifling. The porthole was screwed down so tightly that I could not move it without a wrench, and the place seemed hermetically sealed.

By the terrible racket of the machinery and the strong smell of tar and oil I felt certain that it was no passenger steamer by which I was travelling. Everywhere were traces of black dust. I dipped my finger in some of it, examining it closely; it was coal dust. The ship was a collier.

I rose again, and taking up a stout piece of wood lying on the floor, battered heavily at the door, demanding release. But the clash and roar of the rickety engines drowned my voice, and I feared that no one could hear me above the din.

A strong sea was running, although the sun shone brightly. We were evidently somewhere in the Channel, but from my porthole I could see no land.

Again and again I battered furiously, until of a sudden I heard gruff voices, and the door was unlocked and opened cautiously, disclosing two rough-looking bronzed seamen, dark-bearded and dressed in patched and faded dungareen.

“Well, mister,” exclaimed the elder of the two, “what’s the fuss?”

“No fuss at all,” I responded. “I only want to be let out.”

“No doubt,” he responded, with a grin at his companion. “You’d like a breath of fresh air – eh?”

“Yes, I should.”

“But sea-air ain’t good for your constitution mister, so you’ll have to stop here. You’ve got a cabin all to yourself, so what more do you want? Perhaps you’d like a bloomin’ saloon?”

“Look here, my man,” I said, as calmly as I could, “just do me a favour and ask your captain to step down here. I’d like to speak to him before the farce proceeds further. You’re only obeying orders by locking me up here, of that I’m sure. But just tell the captain that I’m better, and want to have a word with him.”

Both men looked somewhat surprised.

“We were goin’ to have a look at you in a few minutes, and see whether you’d come to, if you hadn’t have kicked up such a confounded row.”

“Well, go and tell the captain I want to see him,” I said, endeavouring to smile.

“All right, sir, I will,” answered the man; “but I’ll have to lock the door again.”

“Very well,” I laughed. “Only don’t starve me, remember.” The situation seemed humorous.

Both men grinned broadly; the door was closed, and I heard one remark to the other in true cockney English —

“’E ain’t such a vi’lent fellow, after all, Bill.” Five minutes later the door was again opened, and a burly, full-bearded, black-eyed man in a pea-jacket and peaked cap entered the cabin.

“You are the captain, I presume?” I said.

“That’s me,” he answered, leaning against the wooden partition opposite my bunk.

“Well,” I said, “I’d like to know by what right you lock me up here? I’ve been unconscious for a long time, and on coming to myself, I find I’m here onboard your ship at sea, imprisoned, and not allowed out.”

“You’re in here for the benefit of your health,” he answered roughly. “A sea voyage’ll do you good.”

“Then perhaps you’ll tell me the name of the ship on board which I’m taking this pleasure trip?” I said sarcastically.

“Better find that out.”

“No very difficult matter, I suppose,” I answered quite coolly. “Only I should like to point out that even though you may be skipper of this coal hulk, you have no right to imprison me here.”

“I shall do just as I like, cocky,” he responded. “And further, you’d best be quiet and keep a still tongue, or perhaps you won’t see land again.”

“That’s certainly a very genteel speech,” I said; “and perhaps the British Consul at your port of destination will have something to say regarding your conduct.”

“I don’t care a brass button for all the blanked consuls in the whole Consular Service,” he replied, with a coarse laugh. “You are on board my ship, and I’ll give you to understand now, once and for all, that I’m master here.”

“Perhaps you’ll pipe to a different tune when your master’s certificate is suspended for a year or two.”

“It ’ud take a better man than you to suspend it. While you’re on board this craft, it’ll be a wise policy to keep a still tongue in your head.”

“And it will be wiser if you allow me my liberty, and just tell me how and why I came aboard here.”

“You were brought here, but for what reason I don’t know.”

“And who brought me here?”

“I don’t know. I wasn’t on board when you arrived.”

“The ship was lying in the Thames, wasn’t it?”

“Yes,” he answered. “It wasn’t on Clapham Common, that’s a certainty.”

“And where are we now?”

“At sea.”

“I’m aware of that, but in what sea – the Channel, the North Sea, or the Atlantic?”

“You’ll know soon enough. Just breathe the ozone, and make yourself comfortable. That’s all you have to do,” he responded, with his bearded chin thrust forward, in an air of unconcern.

“Well, you haven’t provided many creature comforts for me,” I remarked, with a glance round the stuffy little place.

“No, this isn’t exactly a Cunarder,” he admitted. “But I’ll tell the men to bring you some grub, at any rate. Like some duff?”

“You’re very kind; but I’d rather take a walk on deck in order to get an appetite.”

“No; the sun’s a bit too strong,” he answered waggishly. “You might get sunstroke, you know.”

“I shall be asphyxiated if I remain here.”

“Well, that’s a comfortable death, I believe. More than one chap has died for want o’ breath in the hold of this ship when we’ve been trimmin’ coal.”

“Then you refuse me my liberty?” I said, feeling that to argue pleasantly was useless.

“Yes, you’ve got to stay ’ere.”

“By whose orders?”

“That’s my own business,” he growled.

“And mine also,” I responded firmly. “You may be skipper of this craft, but you are not a gaoler, you know.”

“I’m your gaoler, at any rate.”

“That remains to be seen,” I answered. “I suppose you’ve been paid to take me out of the country, like this; but I may as well warn you that you are aiding and abetting a murder, and that when you get ashore you’ll find yourself in a very nasty position.”

“With the Consul, eh?” he laughed. “Well, they’re a decent lot, as a rule. We don’t get much trouble with ’em if we deposit our papers in order.”

“But if I demanded your arrest for illegal imprisonment?”

“I don’t fancy you’d do that, mister,” he responded with sarcasm. “It might be a bit of a bother for me in England, but the foreign police are a bit chary of touching a British capt’n.”

There was, I knew, some truth in that. Yet I did not intend to remain cooped up there, a prisoner, for the remainder of the voyage.

“Well, now, look here,” I said, in a more conciliatory tone. “Why are you not frank with me?”

“Because you ain’t responsible for your actions.”

“And that’s why you won’t allow me on deck?” He nodded.

“Then I suppose when I was handed over to your tender charge they told you I was a lunatic?”

“Well, they said you’d better be kept under restraint. I was told that you’d had a bad touch of the blues, it seems.”

“And yet you took me aboard while I was unconscious,” I said. “That was scarcely a wise proceeding was it?”

“You were here when I returned; I’ve told you I found you here.”

“Then you mean to tell me that you don’t know who paid you to take me on this pleasure trip?”

“No, I don’t. I’ve only received orders, and just observed them.”

“Orders from whom?”

“From my owners.”

“Your owners! What possible interest could your owners have in shipping me aboard while I was unconscious? Who are they?”

“Hanways, of Newcastle.”

“And what ship is this?”

“The Petrel, of Newcastle.”

“Bound for where?”

“No,” he replied. “I’ve strict orders to keep you confined in the cabin, to treat you as well as your behaviour will allow, and to tell you nothing.”

“Well, captain, you’re a sensible man, and surely you’ll listen to reason.”

“What reason? I’ve got my orders. That’s enough for me.”

“But I tell you that by this action you are aiding in the concealment of a terrible crime – the dastardly murder of a lady in London,” I burst forth.

“Of course. That’s the yarn they said you’d spin. Well, you can stow that for the present. I’ll come down and hear it over a pipe, when I want a bit of relaxation. For the time being, just you sniff the ozone, and fancy yourself in a drawin’-room.”

Then, without more ado, the burly fellow made his exit, slammed the heavy door and bolted it, leaving me still a prisoner within that tiny cabin.