Читать книгу The British Mysteries Edition: 14 Novels & 70+ Short Stories - Sapper - Страница 24

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"LONE TREE ISLAND," began Blackett, "lies south of Santos. In size it is about five miles north to south, and a little less from east to west. The eastern side has a biggish area of swamp which is practically impassable: the western side is mostly dense tropical forest. The northern part—the map of which isn't here—has one conspicuous conical hill, and west of that hill one even more conspicuous tree standing by itself on high ground."

"That confirms the accuracy of the other part of the map," said Jim.

"The first time I heard of it," went on the other, "was in '06. I was serving then as mate in a small line with its headquarters at Buenos. One day we got sudden orders from the owners to go there, which struck me as being pretty strange, seeing that there was no question of any cargo, and tramps don't generally go on pleasure cruises. And what struck me as even stranger was our old man's manner after we'd sailed. He wasn't a chatty card at the best of times, but that trip I couldn't get a word out of him. What was more, there was something wrong with the men. So at last I took the bull by the horns one morning when he came up on the bridge.

"'What's all the trouble, sir?' I said. 'The crew are as windy as if they were a girls' school.'

"'How long have you been out here, Mr. Blackett?' he answered.

"'About a year,' I told him.

"'You may remember the Paquinetta left Buenos six weeks ago sudden like,' he said.

"The Paquinetta was another of our line.

"'I do,' I answered. 'Rather mysterious about it too. Nobody knew where she was bound for.'

"'Not only that,' he reminded me, 'but she sailed under a new captain and a specially picked crew.'

"I stared at him hard. He was right—she had, but I'd forgotten it.

"'In your year out here, Mr. Blackett, have you never heard any stories of Lone Tree Island,' he went on.

"Well, I hadn't—not at that time, and I told him so. I hadn't even heard of the island before.

"'Not surprising,' he said, 'it lies well off the beaten track.'

"'What are we going to do there?' I asked him.

"'Find out what's happened to the Paquinetta,' he said gravely, and went below.

"Well, Mr. Maitland, you know I'm not a nervy sort of cuss, but I give you my word that that simple remark sent a shiver right down my spine. Don't forget that in those days wireless wasn't fitted to most of the smaller tramps, and the Paquinetta had none. At the same time there had been no dirty weather and she was a first-class sea boat. So I told myself not to be a fool—what could have happened to her? But there was the old man with a face a yard long: there was the crew, who somehow or other had got hold of our destination, as nervous as a basketful of monkeys, and there was this mystery about the Paquinetta.

"Well, we sighted the island about noon on the third day out. We were steering north-east, and that high ground with the cairn of stones on top, that you can see marked on the map, hid the anchorage until we were close in shore. Then as we rounded the point we suddenly saw her right in front of us, anchored not three cables' length away. So we went hard astern and anchored ourselves."

He paused and took another drink.

"It was obvious," he continued, "at the first glance that something was very wrong. There was no sign of smoke, no sign of life on board her, and when we gave a blast on the siren there was no answer.

"'Lower away a boat,' ordered the skipper. 'I'm going on board.'

"'I'd like to come too, sir,' I said, and the old man looked relieved.

"'I reckon I'll be glad to have you,' he answered. 'There is some devilry afoot.'

"So we rowed over. The companion was down though two of the guys had come adrift, and it wobbled drunkenly as we climbed up. The deck was deserted, and the heat beat up from it as we stood there looking round. Not a sign of a soul: not a sound.

"'We'll go below, Mr. Mate,' said the old man and led the way.

"She was practically the twin of our own packet so we knew our way about. We made for the saloon. It was empty, same as everything else, and on the table were the remains of a meal. Half a cup of tea congealed and rancid, and some meat that was crawling, it was so bad.

"'They've been gone some time, sir,' I said, pointing to it.

"'But what manner of man is it, Mr. Mate, who leaves his ship without a soul on board. Tell me that.'

"And I couldn't. The old story of the Marie Celeste came to my mind, but she at any rate was found drifting at sea. This was different: the whole lot of them must be ashore. But as the skipper said it pointed to a strange man in their captain.

"'We'll try the chart-room,' said the old man, and even as he spoke there came a sudden chuckle from outside the door. And you can take it from me that we were round in a flash, each of us with a gun in our hands. It was repeated, and there was something in the sound of it that fairly froze my blood. We watched the door opening slowly, and then our revolvers fell to our sides. One of the cook's mates was standing there and it needed but one glance to see that the poor chap was as mad as a hatter.

"He looked at us foolishly, and after a while he began to mumble something.

"'Half men: half beasts. Half men: half beasts.'

"On and on he went saying it, again and again and pointing with a shaking hand through the porthole. We couldn't get anything else out of him, and at length he shambled away again.

"'What the devil does he mean, sir?' I cried. 'Half men: half beasts. Of course, he's plumb crazy.'

"'And what made him crazy, Mr. Mate: what made him crazy?'

"The captain looked at me with sombre eyes.

"'Crazy men aren't signed on, are they, Mr. Mate? And sane men don't go crazy for nothing.'

"He led the way on deck, and for a while he stood there shading his eyes with his hand and staring at the undergrowth that came down almost to the water's edge. Then he turned abruptly and went up on the bridge.

"'Get the log,' he said. 'It may tell us something.'

"So I went to the captain's cabin, and wished I hadn't. For the sight inside was terrible to see. The bunk, the walls, the table, the chairs, the floor—every part of that cabin had great patches of red spattered over it, as if someone with a vast brush had daubed it indiscriminately on anything he saw. And it was blood.

"I turned: the captain was standing beside me and his face was the colour of chalk.

"'God in Heaven!' he muttered, 'there's been butcher's work in here.'

"I went over to the table, on which some papers were lying and picked them up. They, too, were stained with blood, but the writing was still legible. And at last we realised we had some sort of clue, though not one that advanced us much. For the top was evidently part of a rough form of diary kept by the skipper, and the captain pointed to the date—April 26th.

"'18th May now, Blackett,' he said. 'Three weeks ago.'

"'Cannot understand silence of shore party,' ran the entry. 'Three days overdue and no sig——'

"It broke off abruptly in the middle of a word. Signal, perhaps or sign—it didn't matter. But the same thought was in both our minds: what grim tragedy had occurred as he laid down his pencil three weeks before? Whose was the blood that covered everything? The faint sickly reek of it still hung about, and we stumbled back into the fresh air—two badly shaken men.

"'What's it mean, sir?' I cried. 'You knew something before we got here: the crew knew something. What is it?'

"'Rumours,' he said slowly. 'There have always been strange rumours about this island, Mr. Mate. And, by heck! I'm beginning to believe that they're true.'

"He gripped my arm suddenly, and with his other hand he pointed to the shore.

"'Do you see anything moving?' he cried. 'By that tree with the purple flowers, half-way up the hill.'

"I picked out the tree, and stared at it. And after a while it shook, though everything around it was motionless in the stilling mid-day heat. I went on staring: was it my imagination or was there something at the foot of the tree that was moving? We had neither of us brought our glasses, and in the shimmering haze it was difficult to be certain. So at length we gave it up and continued our exploration though we knew from the outset it was hopeless. The ship was empty save for us two and a crazy cook. Where were the rest of the crew?"

He paused, and Jim refilled his glass. And in the silence of the room you could have heard a pin drop.

"The first thing to fix was what to do with the madman, and the skipper decided to leave him where he was for the time.

"'As I see things,' he said to me, 'he has been alone in this boat since April 26th, and it's not going to hurt him to be alone two or three days more. And we'll have trouble with our own men if we take him back with us.'

"'What do you propose to do, sir?' I asked.

"'Explore that river, Mr. Blackett. We've got to try and solve this mystery somehow.'

"So we pulled back to our own ship, and I gave the necessary orders. The men were standing about in bunches talking in low voices, and it wasn't until the old man got going that they bestirred themselves. Of course they'd scented trouble—anyone with half an eye could have seen it after one glance at the Paquinetta—but they were not given much time to think about it. We hoisted in the small boat, lowered away the big one, and a marline spike removed any reluctance to man it. The second mate was left in charge, with strict orders to keep a sharp look out, and we started off.

"It had been hot in the creek, but once round the bend of the river out of sight of the open sea it became almost unbearable. Not a breath of wind stirred, and the air seemed to press down on one like a wet blanket. Dense tropical undergrowth hemmed us in on each side: the place reeked of malaria and yellow jack. And crocodiles. I've never seen so many in my life as there were in that river, and the grim thought came to me that they might furnish a possible solution. There would be no traces left of anyone who fell into that water. I said as much in a low voice to the skipper, and he stared at me a moment or two before replying.

"'It's a rum crocodile that can climb the bridge of a ship, Blackett,' he said.

"We rowed on. He and I were sitting side by side in the stern each with a revolver on our knees. Gradually the river narrowed till the blades of the oars were almost touching the banks and the trees met overhead. It was obvious we could not go further, so the skipper gave the order to cease rowing.

"'No good trying to land here,' he remarked. 'We'll try a shout or two. Now then, lads, all together with me.'

"We bellowed 'Ahoy' at the tops of our voices, and then listened. But save for the startled whirr of birds as they rose from the tree near by there was no result—just the same steamy silent heat. We tried again, but it was useless and there was nothing for it but to return to the ship. And it was on the way back that I became conscious of a very peculiar sensation. I mentioned it to the captain afterwards, and found that he had experienced it also, though I think the men were too busy rowing to notice it. And the sensation was one of being watched. Something was keeping pace with us on one bank, something that I never saw, but yet was acutely aware of. It was not imagination, and the skipper agreed with me.

"Well, that ended our first endeavour to solve the mystery, and the point arose as to what to do next. So we held a council of war, and finally arrived at the conclusion that the best thing would be to steam slowly round the island hooting with the siren at frequent intervals, and looking for a place where we could land a party with safety. For the skipper flatly refused to let anyone go ashore in the wooded part, even if we could have got the men to volunteer, which I doubt.

"So we made the circuit of the island with the siren going every half-minute, and the result was nil. No trace of a man did we see, but the time was not wasted since we got the geography of the place in our heads. And it was clear that there was one obvious spot to land—a beach on the north of the island almost at the foot of the conical hill. But it was too late to do anything more that day, so we decided to anchor again, and wait for the next morning.

"Now the Paquinetta was lying inside us about two hundred yards from the shore, and a quarter of a mile from us. The night was dead still, and the moon was due to rise about three. And though I was tired when I came off watch at midnight I found I couldn't sleep. I couldn't get this amazing affair out of my head, so I lay down on my bunk and picked up a book. Full sea going, watch was being kept, and I could hear the second mate pacing up and down the bridge.

"Suddenly the footsteps ceased just above my porthole, and I heard him give an exclamation. And the next moment he was in my cabin.

"'There's something going on in the Paquinetta, sir,' he cried.

"I was out like a flash, and up on the bridge. Sure enough a light was moving across the deck, but it wasn't an ordinary ship's lantern. It looked more like a smoky torch, such as boys carry on Guy Fawkes's day. We watched it in silence, until it disappeared below.

"'It's that crazy fool of a cook,' I said. 'He'll probably set fire to the ship.'

"And I was on the point of rousing the skipper, when there came across the water a scream of terror so blood-curdling that I felt my hair lifting from my scalp. It was not repeated, and before I had time to decide anything, the captain joined us.

"'Did that scream come from the Paquinetta?' he asked.

"'Yes, sir,' I said. 'And there was a light moving on the deck... By Jove! there it is again.'

"The three of us stood there staring at it. As before it moved across the deck, but this time it disappeared over the side. And it seemed to me that it was moving in a curiously jerky fashion.

"Now the gangway was on the far side of the Paquinetta and the explanation of the light's movements seemed obvious. Someone had boarded her, gone below, and then left her. And while he was below something had happened to cause that ghastly scream.

"The skipper didn't hesitate, though if it had been me I'm not ashamed to confess that I think I'd have left it till dawn. He ordered a boat to be lowered and called for a couple of volunteers to go aboard the Paquinetta. We got 'em readily—a big Swede, and an Englishman. One of them took a crowbar, and the other a pickaxe, whilst the skipper and I carried our revolvers. Then with four lanterns we rowed across. Hit, and hit to kill, were the orders if we met anything.

"We came alongside the gangway, and the first thing we saw by the light of the lanterns was blood on the steps. There was a trail of it the whole way up, a trail right across the deck, a trail of it leading down below. And we followed the trail—the skipper leading and me bringing up the rear. It led past the saloon, and finished in the cook's quarters.

"Ye Gods! the place was a shambles. Just as we had found the captain's cabin, so was this, only now the blood was wet. And the skipper cursed savagely. Somebody or something had battered that poor crazy loon to death, but whatever it was it had disappeared. We searched the ship thoroughly: she was empty. And at last we pulled back to our own.

"And that very nearly brings me to the end. The next day we landed a party and climbed the hill. From it the whole of the island could be seen stretched out like a map at our feet. But of life there was no sign. Dense forest and swamp, and not a thing that moved, save that occasionally a flock of birds would rise from some tree, and then settle down again as if they had been disturbed by something passing below.

"I suggested to the captain that I should take a party of volunteers and try some exploration in the forest, but he absolutely refused to allow it.

"'We've only got three revolvers on board,' he pointed out, 'and very little ammunition. If the crew of the Paquinetta were anywhere down there they'd have heard our siren yesterday. They're dead, Mr. Mate—every man jack of them, and I'm not going to risk a similar fate for my own. You'll take command of the Paquinetta with an emergency crew, and as soon as you've got steam up—we sail.'

"And that is the story of the Paquinetta, from which you can draw your own conclusions. Every sort of theory was put forward at the time, and the one that most people accepted was that a mutiny had taken place. The landing-party which the captain had alluded to in his diary, had come on board, and having killed the skipper and the rest of the crew had gone ashore again leaving only the mad cook. Then when we arrived, fearful that the madman might say something which would give them away, they completed their work by butchering him. They dared not reply to our siren knowing what they'd done, and finally yellow jack broke out and that was the end. For the bald fact remains that from that day to this no word has been heard of any member of that crew."

"And is that your theory, Bill?" asked Jim quietly.

"No, Mr. Maitland, it isn't. Call me a superstitious sailor-man if you like but I believe the solution of the mystery is something far more horrible. And I believe it is to be found in the words of that crazy cook—'half men, half beasts.' I believe that lurking in that dense forest are beings of a certain degree of intelligence—witness the torch, which shows that they understand fire—of inner physical strength—the captain of the Paquinetta was a powerful man—and of incredible ferocity. I believe that the landing-party was butchered to a man, and that then, taking advantage of a dark night, these creatures had either swum or rowed out to the ship, and murdered those who remained on board. Why they left the mad cook I don't profess to say: perhaps he managed to hide himself from them. In brief, I believe that the legend of the Guardians of the Treasure is true."

"Now we're coming to it, Bill," said Jim. "Let's hear something about this treasure."

"It was to find it, Mr. Maitland, that the Paquinetta was fitted out. The story is that in 1600 or thereabouts one Don Silva Rodriguez, having on board his galleon a fabulous load of gold and precious stones which he had obtained in Brazil, was driven ashore on Lone Tree Island and completely wrecked. He waited and waited, spending each day on the top of the hill scanning the horizon for a sail, but never seeing one. And at length his rage and fury drove him mad. There was he with unlimited riches in his pocket so to speak, condemned to spend the rest of his life on an island where they were useless to him. And in his madness he entered into league with the devil. If the devil would send a ship, he would leave half his treasure hidden on the island where no one could find it, for the exclusive use of the devil. And the devil agreed, provided he could instal his own guardians. You smile, Mr. Maitland—and told here in this room I admit the story sounds fantastic. Nevertheless, even if the origin of the yarn is incredible, I still believe that there lurks in that forest a breed of creatures that are neither man nor beast."

"That's right, sir." Robinson, who had been almost forgotten in his corner, suddenly spoke. "The Captain's right. 'Orrors: 'orrors that ain't 'uman."

"So you've heard this story too, have you?" said Jim thoughtfully.

"May I ask what causes your interest in the place, Mr. Maitland?" said Blackett.

"You certainly may, Bill. And I can tell you in a few words. We have in our possession a map that purports to show the spot on the island where the treasure is buried."

"How came you by it?"

"It was given to my brother, Captain Blackett, by a sailor he befriended in Monte Video," said Judy Draycott. "And my brother has since been murdered by a gang here in England who want to get it."

The sailor whistled in astonishment.

"That's bad luck, Miss," he said awkwardly. "I'm sorry to hear that."

"Now, Bill, the position is this," remarked Jim. "By a subterfuge we have obtained the genuine map as given by the sailor to Miss Draycott's brother. We have also presented the gang with this."

He joined the faked half on to the genuine one and Blackett studied it.

"That, as you will see, Bill, is wrong. The southern half is correct: the northern is not."

"Aye: that's so. The tree and the hill are reversed."

"Well, I'm jiggered," said Robinson. "To think I never spotted that."

"I'm very glad you didn't, Robinson," said Jim. "It would have upset my plans very considerably if you had. To continue, Bill. The other party have no idea that there is anything wrong with the map they've got. It is possible, of course, they may show it to someone like yourself who knows the place, in which case they will discover they've been tricked. But if they don't do that, they won't find their error out till they arrive there."

"Arrive there!" cried Blackett. "Lord save us, you don't mean to say they're going to the island."

"You bet your life, Bill," said Jim. "And so am I."

"You are a fool, Mr. Maitland," said the sailor gravely.

"So are you, Bill," answered Jim, beginning to pace up and down the room. "Because you're coming too. And little Percy."

He paused for a moment with his eyes on the girl.

"Pity—but I'm afraid it's not quite in your line, Miss Draycott. I don't like the sound of that yellow jack."

"Don't you," said the girl, with a sweetness that would have augured danger to him if he had not been so preoccupied.

"Foul thing—yellow jack. Still we're all pretty well pickled against fever, and as far as Percy is concerned he can bite the microbe first. Microbes flee from you, don't they, old lad? Suppose they must draw the line somewhere."

"I had a sort of idea, Mr. Maitland," continued Judy even more sweetly, "that the map of the island was mine."

Jim stared at her.

"By Jove! yes—so it is," he cried. "But it's understood, of course, that when we discover the old tin can buried by Bill's Spanish pal, it's absolutely yours. Bill—when can you start? Fares and all expenses, of course, are mine."

"Are you really serious?" demanded the other.

"Serious as be damned, old lad. And the marvel to me is that I've never heard this perfectly gorgeous yarn before."

And it was just as well for his peace of mind that he did not see the look on the girl's face as she watched him.

"If you don't come," he went on, "I'll have to rope in someone else who can do the sailoring part. But I'd dearly like to have you with me, Bill."

And suddenly the sailor laughed.

"Right you are. I'm with you."

"Great," shouted Jim. "I'll fix details with you to-morrow, Bill, and show you the complete map."

His eyes were gleaming with excitement.

"Speed: speed—that's the order of the day," he continued. "We've got to get there first. And I see no reason why we shouldn't. They suspect nothing, so as far as they are concerned there's no urgent need for hurry."

"Well, we'll have a look at things to-morrow," said Blackett, getting up. "I think you're a fool, Mr. Maitland, and I know I am, but anyway I'm going to bed. Good night, Miss," he added with a grin. "Can't you make him see reason?"

He stumped down the stairs followed by Robinson, and Jim grinned too.

"A priceless fellow," he remarked. "Worth two in a scrap."

"Do you think there's anything in his story about the things in the forest?" said the girl.

"Frankly, I don't," answered Jim. "As he admitted himself sailors are a superstitious bunch, and their stories rarely lose in the telling. But it was a queer yarn, wasn't it, about the Paquinetta? I should say myself that the generally accepted theory was correct—mutiny and yellow jack. For all that you'll have to learn to pull a pretty useful trigger, Percy."

But at the moment Percy slept quite shamelessly.

"How will you go?" demanded the girl.

"Either Purple Star or Union Mail as far as Rio. I'll have a look at the list of sailings to-morrow. Then from Rio I'll charter something or other to get to the island in."

"And where will you stay in Rio?" she asked.

"Probably the Gloria," said Jim. "Judy—I wish you could see Rio. It's one of the most divinely beautiful places in the world."

"So I've always heard," she remarked. "You must bring me back some picture postcards of the place."

Jim looked at her suspiciously.

"What are you driving at, Judy?" he said. "The tone of your last remark was very peculiar."

"Sorry about that," she answered. "I was really thinking of something else. What a wonderful judge of character Captain Blackett is."

"Bill! Judge of character! I don't know that I've ever noticed it particularly."

"I mean when he called you a fool. Do give me a match, will you?"

"Not a match do you get until you tell me what you're driving at."

"Well—you must be one. Do you really imagine, Jim Maitland, that I'm going to sit at home here while you and that snoring monstrosity go gallivanting off on a perfectly priceless trip like this which you'd never have heard about but for me. Not so, my lad: you guess again."

"But, Judy," he said feebly. "My dear—think of the fever. And the discomfort. And there may be something in Blackett's story after all," he added as a brilliant afterthought.

"Cut it out," she said calmly. "Where Percy the poop can go—I can go. It's my map, and as a great favour I'll allow you to come with me. Now give me a match."

He still hesitated.

"Judy," he said seriously, "I know it is your map. I know you have every right to take up the position you have. But—honestly, I don't think you quite realise what you're letting yourself in for. The risk of fever is not an imaginary one: that part of the world simply reeks of it. Further there's going to be very real danger from the gentlemen we've been up against to-night. I don't think you ought to come."

"I'm still waiting for that match," she reminded him. "Now, look here, Jim," she went on when her cigarette was alight, "whatever you say, I'm coming. You may remember that conversation we had the first time we met concerning the youth of the present day. Well, now that they've killed Arthur this is my show. And any risks that you run I'm going to run too. Which ultimatum having been delivered the young maiden intimated her intention of retiring. Percy—you horror—wake up."

"Did anybody speak to me?" grunted Percy sleepily.

"Wake up, you fat-headed ass. I want to go home."

"All right, my loved one. Have you kissed James good night?"

And then occurred an amazing phenomenon. For Judy Draycott, usually one of the most self-possessed of girls, began to blush. Furious with herself, she blushed still more. And Percy howled with joy.

"My invariable present is an order up to five bob on Woolworths," he said dodging rapidly to the door. "Five minutes, my children—and don't forget to turn off the light in the passage when you leave."

"You unspeakable ass—get out," roared Jim, trying not to laugh.

"I go, James. But that is not the way mother taught me to address a chaperon."

"I really must apologise for him, Judy," said Jim, as Percy went down the stairs. "He becomes more of a half-wit daily."

He was holding the door open for her as he spoke, and for a while she looked at him in silence. Then she suddenly smiled.

"Are all your family half-wits?" she said softly, and a moment later he was alone.