The Lost Naval Papers

  CHAPTER VII

  THE MARINE SENTRY

  We had a whole day to fill in before we could get any news of Dawson'svigil in the _Malplaquet_, and I have never known a day as drearilylong. Cary and I were both restless as peas on a hot girdle, and couldnot settle down to talk or to read or to write. Cary sought vainly topersuade me to read and pass judgment upon his Navy Book. In spite ofmy interest in the subject my soul revolted at the forbidding pile ofmanuscript. I promised to read the proofs and criticise them withseverity, but as for the M.S.--no, thanks. Poor Cary needed all hissweet patience to put up with me. By eleven o'clock we had becomeunendurable to one another, and I gladly welcomed his suggestion toadjourn to his club, have lunch there, and try to inveigle theCommander of the _Malplaquet_ into our net. "I know him," said Cary."He is a fine fellow; and though he must be pretty busy, he will beglad to lunch somewhere away from the ship. If we have luck we will goback with him and look over the _Malplaquet_ ourselves."

  "If you can manage that, Cary, you will have my blessing."

  He did manage to work the luncheon part by telephoning to the yardwhere the _Malplaquet_ was fitting out, and we left the rest to ourpersonal charms.

  Cary was right. The Commander was a very fine fellow, an English navalofficer of the best type. He confirmed the views I had frequentlyheard expressed by others of his profession that no hatred existsbetween English and German sailors. They leave that to middle-agedcivilians who write for newspapers. The German Navy, in his opinion,was "a jolly fine Service," worthy in high courage and skill tocontest with us the supremacy of the seas. He had been through theChina troubles as a lieutenant in the _Monmouth_--afterwards sunk byGerman shot off Coronel--knew von Spee, von Mueller, and other officersof the Pacific Squadron, and spoke of them with enthusiasm. "They sunksome of our ships and we wiped out theirs. That was all in the way ofbusiness. We loved them in peace and we loved them in war. They weresplendidly loyal to us out in China--von Spee actually transferredsome of his ships to the command of our own senior officer so as toavoid any clash of control--and when it came to fighting, they foughtlike gentlemen. I grant you that their submarine work against merchantships has been pretty putrid, but I don't believe that was the choiceof their Navy. They got their orders from rotten civilians like KaiserBill." Imagine if you can the bristling moustache of the Supreme WarLord could he have heard himself described as a civilian!

  Our guest had commanded a destroyer in the Jutland battle, and assuredus that the handling of the German battle squadrons had been masterly."They punished us heavily for just so long as they were superior instrength, and then they slipped away before Jellicoe could get hisblow in. They kept fending us off with torpedo attacks until the nightcame down, and then clean vanished. We got in some return smacks afterdark at stragglers, but it was very difficult to say how much damagewe did. Not much, I expect. Still it was a good battle, as decisive inits way as Trafalgar. It proved that the whole German Fleet could notfight out an action against our full force and have the smallest hopeof success. I am just praying for the chance of a whack at them in the_Malplaquet_. My destroyer was a bonny ship, the best in the flotilla,but the _Malplaquet_ is a real peach. You should see her."

  "We mean to," said Cary. "This very afternoon. You shall take us backwith you."

  The Commander opened his eyes at this cool proposal, but we prevailedupon him to seek the permission of the Admiral-Superintendent, who, agood deal to my surprise, proved to be quite pliable. Cary'sreputation for discretion must be very high in the little villagewhere he lives if it is able to guarantee so disreputable a scribbleras Bennet Copplestone! The Admiral, fortunately, had not read any ofmy Works before they had been censored. When printed in _Cornhill_they were comparatively harmless.

  I must not describe the _Malplaquet_. Her design was not new to me--Ihad seen more than one of her type--but as she is now a unit inBeatty's Fleet her existence is not admitted to the world. As we wentup and down her many steep narrow ladders, and peered into darkcorners, I looked everywhere for a Marine sentry whom I could identifyby mark of ear as Dawson. I never saw him, but Trehayne passed metwice, and I found myself again admiring his splendid young manhood.He was not big, being rather slim and wiry than strongly built, but insheer beauty of face and form he was almost perfectly fashioned. "Doyou know that man?" I asked of our commander, indicating Trehayne."No," said he. "He is one of the shore party. But I should like tohave him with me. He is one of the smartest looking petty officersthat I have ever seen."

  We were shown everything that we desired to see except thetransmission room and the upper conning tower--the twin holy of holiesin a commissioned ship--and slipped away, escaping the Captain by abare two minutes. Which was lucky, as he would probably have had usthrown into the "ditch."

  The end of the day was as weariful as the beginning, and we were allglad--especially, I expect, Mrs. Cary--to go early to bed. Thatill-used lady, to whom we could disclose nothing of our anxieties,must have found us wretched company.

  We had finished breakfast the next morning--the Saturday of Dawson'sgamble--and were sitting on Cary's big fireguard talking of everysubject, except the one which had kept us awake at night, when aservant entered and announced that a soldier was at the door with amessage from Mr. Dawson. "Show him in," almost shouted Cary, and Ijumped to my feet, stirred for once into a visible display ofeagerness.

  A Marine came in, dressed in the smart blue sea kit that I love; uponhis head the low flat cap of his Corps. He gave us a full swingingsalute, and jumped to attention with a click of his heels. He lookedabout thirty-five, and wore a neatly trimmed dark moustache. His hair,also very dark, was cropped close to his head. Standing there with hishands upon the red seams of his trousers, his chest well filled out,and his face weather tanned, he looked a proper figure of a sea-goingsoldier. "Mr. Cary, sir," he said, in a flat, monotonous orderly'svoice, "Major Boyle's compliments, and could you and your friend comedown to the Police Station to meet him and Chief Inspector Dawson. Ihave a taxi-cab at the door, sir."

  "Certainly," cried Cary; "in two minutes we shall be ready."

  "Oh, no, we shan't," I remarked calmly, for I had moved to a positionof tactical advantage on the Marine's port beam. "We will have thestory here, if you don't mind, Dawson."

  He stamped pettishly on the floor, whipped off his cap, and spun itacross the room. "Confound you, Mr. Copplestone!" he growled. "Howthe--how the--do you do it?" He could not think of an expletive mildenough for Mrs. Cary's ears. "There's something about me that I can'thide. What is it? If you don't tell, I will get you on the Regulationcompelling all British subjects to answer questions addressed to themby a competent naval or military authority."

  "You don't happen to be either, Dawson," said I unkindly. "And,beside, there was never yet a law made which could compel a man tospeak or a woman to hold her tongue. Some day perhaps, if you aregood, I will show you how the trick is done. But not yet. I want tohave something to bargain with when you cast me into jail. Out withthe story; we are impatient. If I mistake not, you come to us Dawsontriumphant. You haven't the air of a broken man."

  "I have been successful," he answered gravely, "but I am a long, longway from feeling triumphant. No, thank you, Mrs. Cary, I have had mybreakfast, but if I might trouble you for a cup of coffee? Manythanks."

  Dawson sat down, and Cary moved about inspecting him from every angle."No," declared he at last, "I cannot see the smallest resemblance, notthe smallest. You were thin; now you are distinctly plump. Your hairwas nearly white. Your cheeks had fallen in as if your back teeth weremissing. Your lower lip stuck out." Dawson smiled, highly gratified."I took in all my people at the office this morning," he said. "Theyall thought, and think still, that I was a messenger from the_Malplaquet_, which, by the way, is well down the river safe andsound. Just wait a minute." He walked into a corner of the room, movedhis hands quickly between his side pockets and his face, and thenreturned. Except for the dark hair and moustache and the brown skin,he had bec
ome the Dawson of the Thursday afternoon. "It is as simplefor me to change," said the artist, with a nasty look in my direction,"as it seems to be for Mr. Copplestone here to spot me. It will take aday or two to get the dye out of my hair and the tan off my skin. I amgoing to have a sharp touch of influenza, which is a useful diseasewhen one wants to lie in. Since Sunday I have only been twice to bed."

  We filled him up with coffee and flattery--as one fills a motor carwith petrol and oil--but asked him no questions until we were safelyin Cary's study and Mrs. Cary had gone about her household duties."Your good lady," remarked Dawson to Cary, "is as little curious asany woman I have met, and we will leave her at that if you don't mind.The best thing about our women is that they don't care tuppence aboutnaval and military details. If they did, and once started prying withthat keen scent and indomitable persistence of theirs, we might aswell chuck up. Even my own bright team of charmers never know andnever ask the meaning of the information that they ferret out for me.Their curiosity is all personal--about men and women, never aboutthings. Women--"

  I cut Dawson short. He tended to become tedious.

  "Quite so," I observed politely. "And to revert to one big femalecreature, let us hear something of the _Malplaquet_."

  "You at any rate are curious enough for a dozen. It would serve youright to keep you hopping a bit longer. But I have a kindly eye forhuman weakness, though you might not think it. I joined the ship onThursday afternoon, slipping in as one of a detachment of fiftyR.M.L.I. who had been wired for from Chatham. They were an emergencylot; we hadn't enough in the ship for the double sentry go that Iwanted. All my plans were made with the Commander and Major Boyle, andthey both did exactly what I told them. It isn't often that a privateof Marines has the ordering about of two officers. But Dawson isDawson; no common man. They did as I told them, and were glad to doit. I had extra light bulbs put on all over the lower decks and everydark corner lit up--except one. Just one. And this one was where thefour gun-cables ran out of the switch-room and lay alongside oneanother before they branched off to the fore and after turrets and tothe port and starboard side batteries. That was the most likely spotwhich any one wanting to cut the gun-wires would mark down, and Imeant to watch it pretty closely myself. We had double sentries at themagazines. The _Malplaquet_ is an oil-fired ship, so we hadn't anybothering coal bunkers to attract fancy bombs. I was pretty sure thatafter the _Antinous_ and the _Antigone_ we had mostly wire-cutting tofear. When a man has done one job successfully, and repeated it almostsuccessfully, he is pretty certain to have a third shot. Besides, ifone is out to delay a ship, cutting wires is as good a way as any. Ihad an idea that my man was not a bomber."

  "I thought that you scorned theories," I put in dryly. "When they arewrong they mislead you, and when they are right they are no help."

  Dawson frowned. "Shut up, Copplestone," snapped Cary.

  "We were in no danger from the lighting, heating, and telephone wires,for any defect would have been visible at once. It was the gun andgunnery control cables that were the weak spots. So I had L.T.O.'sposted in the spotting top, the conning tower, the transmission room,the four turrets, and at the side batteries. Every few minutes theyput through tests which would have shown up at once any wires that hadbeen tampered with. After the shore party had cleared out about nineo'clock on the Thursday, no officer or man was allowed to leave theship without a special permit from the Commander. This was all deadagainst the sanitary regulations of the harbour, but I had theAdmiral's authority to break any rules I pleased. By the way, you twoought never to have been allowed on board yesterday afternoon--I sawyou, though you didn't see me; it was contrary to my orders. I spoketo the Admiral pretty sharp last night. 'Who is responsible for theship?' says I. 'You or me?' 'You,' says he. 'I leave it at that,' saysI."

  "One moment, Dawson," I put in. "If the shore party had all gone, howwas it that I saw Petty Officer Trehayne in the ship?"

  "He had orders to stay and keep watch--though he didn't know I was onboard myself. Two pairs of police eyes are better than one pair, andfifty times better than all the Navy eyes in the ship. Of all thesimple-minded, unsuspicious beggars in the world, give me a pack ofnaval ratings! I wouldn't have one of them for sentries--that is whythe fifty emergency Marines were sent for." Dawson's limitless pridein his old Service, and deep contempt for the mere sailor, had comeback in full flood with the uniform of his Corps.

  "I started my own sentry duty in the dark corner I told you of as soonas I had seen to the arrangements all over the _Malplaquet_, and I wasthere, with very few breaks of not more than five minutes each for abite of food, for twenty-six hours. Two Marine sentries took my placewhenever I was away. I had my rifle and bayonet, and stood back in acorner of a bulkhead where I couldn't be seen. The hours were awfullong; I stood without hardly moving. All the pins and needles out ofRedditch seemed to dance up and down me, but I stuck it out--and I hadmy reward, I had my reward. I did my duty, but it's a sick and sorryman that I am this day."

  "There was nothing else to be done," I said. "What you feel now is anervous reaction."

  "That's about it. I watched and watched, never feeling a bit likesleep though my eyes burned something cruel and my feet--they werelumps of prickly wood, not feet. Dull lumps with every now and then astab as if a tin tack had been driven into them. Beyond me in the openalley-way the light was strong, and I could see men pass frequently,but no one came into my corner till the end, and no one saw me. Iheard six bells go in the first watch ('Eleven p.m.,' whispered Cary)on Friday evening, though there was a good bit of noise of gettingready to go out in the early morning, and I was beginning to thinkthat all my trouble might go for naught, when a man in a Navy cap andoveralls stopped just opposite my dark hole between two bulkheads. Hisface was turned from me, as he looked carefully up and down thelighted way. He stood there quite still for some seconds, and thenstepped backwards towards me. I could see him plain against the lightbeyond. He listened for another minute or so, and, satisfied that noone was near, spun on his heels, whipped a tool from his dungareeoveralls, and reached up to the wires which ran under the deck beamsoverhead. In spite of my aching joints and sore feet I was out in aflash and had my bayonet up against his chest. He didn't move till mypoint was through his clothes and into his flesh. I just shoved tillhe gave ground, and so, step by step, I pushed him with the point ofmy bayonet till he was under the lights. His arms had come down, hedropped the big shears with insulated handles which he had drawn fromhis pocket, but he didn't speak a word to me and I did not speak tohim. I just held him there under the lights, and we looked at oneanother without a word spoken. There was no sign of surprise or fearin his face, just a queer little smile. Suddenly he moved, made asnatch at the front of his overalls, and put something into his mouth.I guessed what it was, but did not try to stop him; it was the bestthing that he could do."

  Dawson stopped and pulled savagely at his cigar. He jabbed the endwith his knife, though the cigar was drawing perfectly well, and gaveforth a deep growl which might have been a curse or a sob.

  "Have you ever watched an electric bulb fade away when the current isfailing?" he asked. "The film pales down from glowing white to dullred, which gets fainter and fainter, little by little, till nothingbut the memory of it lingers on your retina. His eyes went out exactlylike that bulb. They faded and faded out of his face, which still keptup that queer, twisted smile. I've seen them ever since; wherever Iturn. I shall be glad of that bout of influenza, and shall begin itwith a stiff dose of veronal.... When the light had nearly gone out ofhis eyes and he was rocking on his feet, I spoke for the first time. Ispoke loud too. 'Good-bye,' I called out; 'I'm Dawson.' He heard me,for his eyes answered with a last flash; then they faded right out andhe fell flat on the steel deck. He had died on his feet; his will kepthim upright to the end; that was a Man. He lived a Man's life, doingwhat he thought his duty, and he died a Man's death.... I blew mywhistle twice; up clattered a Sergeant with the Marine Guard andstopped where that figure on the
deck barred their way. 'Get astretcher,' I said, 'and send for the doctor. But it won't be any use.The man's dead.' The Sergeant asked sharply for my report, and sentoff a couple of men for a stretcher. 'Excuse me, Sergeant,' I said, inmy best detective officer voice, 'I will report direct to your Majorand the Commander. I am Chief Inspector Dawson.' He showed no surprisenor doubt of my word--if you want to understand discipline, gentlemen,get the Marines to teach you--he asked no questions. With one word hecalled the guard to attention, and himself saluted me--me a private! Ihanded him my rifle--there was an inch of blood at the point of thebayonet--and hobbled off to the nearest ladder. My word, I couldscarcely walk, and as for climbing a ship's ladder--I could never havedone if some one hadn't given me a boost behind and some one else ahand at the top. The Commander and the Major of Marines were both inthe wardroom; I walked in, saluted them as a self-respecting privateshould do, and told them the whole story."

  "It was Petty Officer Trehayne," said I calmly--and waited for asensation.

  "Of course," replied Dawson, greatly to my annoyance. He might haveshown some astonishment at my wonderful intuition; but he didn't, nota scrap. Even Cary was at first disappointing, though he warmed uplater, and did me full justice. "Trehayne a spy!" cried Cary. "Helooked a smart good man."

  "I am not saying that he wasn't," snapped Dawson, whose nerves werevery badly on edge. "He was obeying the orders of his superiors as weall have to do. He gave his life, and it was for his country'sservice. Nobody can do more than that. Don't you go for to slanderTrehayne. I watched him die--on his feet."

  Cary turned to me. "What made you think it was Trehayne?" he asked.This was better. I looked at Dawson, who was brooding in his chairwith his thoughts far away. He was still seeing those eyes fading outunder the glare of the electrics between the steel decks of the_Malplaquet_!

  "It was a sheer guess at first," said I, preserving a decent show ofmodesty. "When I heard how the enemy plotted and Dawsoncounter-plotted with all those skilled workmen in his detectiveservice, it occurred to me that an enemy with imagination mightcounter-counterplot by getting men inside Dawson's defences. Icouldn't see how one would work it, but if German agents, say, couldmanage to become trusted servants of Dawson himself, they would havethe time of their lives. So far I was guessing at a possibility,however improbable it might seem. Then when Dawson told us that he hadsent Trehayne into the _Antigone_ and that he was the one factorcommon to both vessels--the workmen and the maintenance part were alldifferent--I began to feel that my wild theory might have something init. I didn't say anything to you, Cary, or to Dawson--he despisestheories. Afterwards Trehayne came in and I spoke to him, and he tome, in French. He did not utter a dozen words altogether, but I wasabsolutely certain that his French had not been learned at an Englishpublic school and during short trips on the Continent. I know too muchof English school French and of one's opportunities to learn uponContinental trips. It took me three years of hard work to recover fromthe sort of French which I learned at school, and I am not well yet.The French spoken by Trehayne was the French of the nursery. It wasalmost, if not quite, his mother tongue, just as his English was.Trehayne's French accent did not fit into Trehayne's history asretailed to us by Dawson. From that moment I plumped for Trehayne asthe cutter of gun wires."

  Dawson had been listening, though he showed no interest in my speech.When I had quite finished, and was basking in the respectfuladmiration emanating from dear old Cary, he upset over me a bucket ofvery cold water.

  "Very pretty," said he. "But answer one question. Why did I sendTrehayne to the _Antigone_?"

  "Why? How can I tell? You said it was to make sure that the shoreparty were all off the ship."

  "I said! What does it matter what I say! What I do matters a heap, butwhat I say--pouf! I sent Trehayne to the _Antigone_ to test him. Isent him expecting that he would try to cut her wires, and he did.Then when I was sure, though I had no evidence for a law court, I senthim to the _Malplaquet_, and I set my trap there for him to walk into.How did I guess? I don't guess; I watch. The more valuable a man is tome, the more I watch him, for he might be even more valuable tosomebody else. Trehayne was an excellent man, but he had not been withme a month before I was watching him as closely as any cat. I hadn'tbeen a Marine and served ashore and afloat without knowing a borngentleman when I see one, and knowing, too, the naval stamp. Trehaynewas too much of a gentleman to have become a workman in the _Vernon_and at Greenock without some very good reason. He said that he was anorphan--yes; he said his parents left him penniless, and he had toearn his living the best way he could--yes. Quite good reasons, butthey didn't convince me. I was certain sure that somewhere, some time,Trehayne had been a naval officer. I had seen too many during myservice to make any mistake about that. So when I stood there waitingin that damned cold corner behind that bulkhead, it was for Trehaynethat I was waiting. I meant to take him or to kill him. When he killedhimself, I was glad. As I watched his eyes fade out, it was as if myown son was dying on his feet in front of me. But it was better sothan to die in front of a firing party. For I--I loved him, and Iwished him 'Good-bye,'"

  Dawson pitched his cigar into the fire, got up, and walked away to thefar side of the room. I had never till that moment completelyreverenced the penetrative, infallible judgment of Little Jane.

  Dawson came back after a few minutes, picked up another cigar fromCary's box, and sat down. "You see, I have a letter from him. I foundit in his quarters where I went straight from the _Malplaquet_."

  "May we read it?" I asked gently. "I was greatly taken with Trehaynemyself. He was a clean, beautiful boy. He was an enemy officer onSecret Service; there is no dishonour in that. If he were alive, Icould shake his hand as the officer of the firing party shook the handof Lody before he gave the last order."

  Dawson took a paper from his pocket, and handed it to me. "Read itout," said he; "I can't."