The Pirate Story Megapack. R.M. Ballantyne

the little lady here, Miss Whiting, to answer it. On her honor, again. If my information is correct, and I haven’t missed much of what has happened, you gave out the figures of this island’s position to no one. Lyman here advised you not to. You kept this book in a safety deposit, then mailed it to Honolulu? I haven’t got much use for women, Miss Whiting, but I take my hat off to you for pluck and cleverness. What I want to know is, does any one, outside of those aboard your Seamew, know those figures? Does Stephen Foster, father of this young sprig here, know? Has he, to your knowledge, any means of learning them since you sailed?”

      Jim started. Swenson and Foster were not in collusion. His suspicions of the millionaire were unfounded.

      “Wait a minute, Kitty,” he said. “Before you answer that, let him tell you how he got his information.”

      “I don’t mind that, young cock of the walk,” returned Swenson, setting down the bottle that he had finished, half empty as it was. “Open up another from your cellar, and I’ll tell you. Damn my eyes if you haven’t earned that much.” The whisky had mellowed him, that and his propensity to brag. “It’s simple as A. B. C. I won’t see any of you again. After I’ve collected my half million, I shall disappear to a freer country than the U.S.A., hidebound by prohibition and blue law cranks. I’ll leave no trail. I’ll be far afield by the time you are home again.

      “I’m a sworn enemy to restrictions of liberty, my friends. When they tried to cut off my liquor and that of other good men they trod on my personal rights. There were a lot of others felt the same way. We got together after a while and we became friends of liberty. Rum-running, not to put too fine a name to it. Bound together in an organization that will keep the sleuths jumping like fleas on a kerosened dog. Coast to coast. Top of Maine to bottom of Florida, Cape Cod to the Golden Gate! Over seas! And under ’em.

      “I wasn’t one of the smallest links in that chain. I had my own territory, savvy? All Massachusetts was mine as head of that ring. And I could call on the other bosses. I handled as good stuff as this, at a profit and at some risk, I grant you that. That’s why I’m going to get out of it.

      “That place you found me at, Lyman, belongs to a gent who is a good friend of mine. His only fault is that he must have his liquor regularly and often. He’s got the same trouble as young Newton here. I’ve sold young Newton many a quart, only he don’t know it. He got it through his father’s chauffeur, one of our sub-agents in Foxfield, one of the lower-downs, same as I am one of the higher-ups.

      “Now the plots thickens, eh? Gets close to home, I’m going to get closer. You next, Miss Whiting.

      “You’ve got a maid, had one, who is a love-sick fool. She’s got some money saved and that chauffeur of Foster’s has been kidding her to get the handling of it. Let her talk marriage and a little home and borrowed a hundred every now and then. Savvy? She worships the ground he walks on, when he does walk. He’s a good-looking devil, younger than she is, a fast worker with the girls, a persuader. She told him everything she knew. That time she went for a walk, when you thought she might have heard something, she phones him as soon as he has taken Old Man Foster home. And he, being a wise young feller, knowin’ I was by way of bein’ a seafaring man, phones me long-distance. It listens fine to me. I’d heard and read about the Golden Dolphin, you see. Later that night he phones me again that Lyman here is coming to talk things over with Foster’s old man and bring the figures.

      “So I tell him to get some of his pals with a car that we’ve used for shifting the booze. That’s as far as I have to go. I got Lyman. Lyman took a long chance and went overboard. You know all that. I got the rest of your talks via the same route before I started for Panama and Honolulu. I was pretty sure then you’d call at Suva, but I wanted to make sure. I thought by that time young Newton here might have got on to the figures and Stevens pumped him. It’s dry work talking. You can figure out the rest of it. Simple enough. I knew when Lyman slipped off he’d given me the wrong position. Guessed he had from the first when I meant to take him along. There you are, miss; there’s my end of it. How about my answer? I don’t know what you may have wired or written back.”

      “On my honor and to the best of my belief,” said Kitty, “Mr. Foster knows nothing of the figures.”

      “Good. Then here’s my proposition. They say a bird in the hand is worth two in the bush, but I’ve got one bird here in the bush that is worth a whole lot more to me than a chance scramble after pearls. Young Foster’s father made a small mint out of blankets and such like with his mills during the war. Now’s his chance to help equalize things again. I don’t know how high he values Newton here. I’m setting half a million on him as a minimum. Personally I wouldn’t give a plugged nickel for him. I’ve got him sized up as a lightweight, but his daddy may consider him the apple of his eye and fruit’s expensive in my market. He’s all the old man’s got and folks are foolish about their kids. Seem to figure because they are theirs they must be wonderful. I’m goin’ to give Stephen Foster a chance to prove up on his love and affection. If folks was as wise as the dog-breeders they’d kill off all the runts soon as they were born. Old Man Foster has made a show dog out of his boy here. Not bad looking on points, I grant you, but a wise judge would give him the gate. Same as you have, miss.

      “So—I go away and leave you on the island. Cheng scuttled your schooner an’ she’s at the bottom of the lagoon. I’m goin’ to take your landing boats with me. Three of my men and Cheng have gone across the island to get the Shark an’ bring her round here. Tomorrow morning we’ll be off. Month or more from now, I get in communication with Stephen Foster and offer to sell him the position of this island so he can send out a relief expedition to take you all off. That won’t cost him much more than a cable to Suva and your passage home. Just so he won’t think I’m pulling his leg, I’ll take him a note from you, young Foster, telling him how you feel about bein’ cooped up here for the rest of your natural.”

      Newton, sharing drinks with Swenson, growing more surly at the depreciation of his merits by the rum-running blackguard, sat sullen and silent.

      “Better get busy, young feller,” said Swenson. “You can use the fly leaf of one of those books, that’ll be convincing evidence. If I’d thought of all this I’d have brought a camera along and taken a flashlight of the crowd of you. But the book’ll help. I’ll loan you a pencil.”

      “What if I don’t?”

      “Ah!” The exclamation wiped out all the good-natured banter from Swenson’s face. It grew evil, repulsive. “If you don’t? For one thing you’ll stay here, anyway. Maybe to rot. Maybe not. This old hulk would make a rare bonfire. Keep your hand off your gun, Lyman. I’ve come unarmed. Shoot me and you can imagine what would happen to you—and to the ladies. You’re inside this hulk and my men are out. You haven’t got any water to speak of, don’t forget that. Now it’s up to young Foster, and I want it settled. His father bunked the government out of the money he rolled up on war contracts. Half a million don’t mean any more to him than a hundred would to most men. It’ll hurt him a little, like taking off a patch of skin might. But the graft’ll save his son from a life down here. Lucky it ain’t you, Lyman; you’d be apt to be contented with the lady here. Regular Paradise for two. But not for the rest of you. What d’you say, Foster?”

      “Give me your pencil.”

      Swenson chuckled and took another drink as Newton got a book from the shelves that had the name of Captain Avery and his ship on the fly leaf and began to write. Swenson finally read it aloud.

      My Dear Father:

      Swenson will tell you his story. I write this in the cabin of the Golden Dolphin to corroborate this much of his story. The Seamew is sunk; we have no boats and the trip has fizzled out. The pearls are not on board. So far there is no trace of Captain Whiting. If you do not meet Swenson’s blackmail I see nothing for it but for us to stay on this damned place until we die.

      One man of ours has been killed; three more are badly hurt; Lyman is injured. Otherwise, we are all well, so far. To check Swenson’s figures I give them to you. For God’s sake, pay the blackmail and get us out of here.

      Affectionately,