Moran of the Lady Letty

  VI. A SEA MYSTERY

  In spite of his best efforts at self-control, Wilbur felt a slow, coldclutch at his heart. That sickening, uncanny lifting of the schooner outof the glassy water, at a time when there was not enough wind to somuch as wrinkle the surface, sent a creep of something very like horrorthrough all his flesh.

  Again he peered over the side, down into the kelp-thickened sea.Nothing--not a breath of air was stirring. The gray light that floodeddown from the stars showed not a break upon the surface of MagdalenaBay. On shore, nothing moved.

  "Quiet there, forward," called Moran to the shrill-voiced coolies.

  The succeeding stillness was profound. All on board listened intently.The water dripped like the ticking of a clock from the "BerthaMillner's" stern, which with the rising of the bow had sunk almost tothe rail. There was no other sound.

  "Strange," muttered Moran, her brows contracting.

  Charlie broke the silence with a wail: "No likee, no likee!" he cried attop voice.

  The man had gone suddenly green; Wilbur could see the shine of his eyesdistended like those of a harassed cat. As he, Moran, and Wilbur stoodin the schooner's waist, staring at each other, the smell of punk cameto their nostrils. Forward, the coolies were already burning joss-stickson the fo'castle head, kowtowing their foreheads to the deck.

  Moran went forward and kicked them to their feet and hurled theirjoss-sticks into the sea.

  "Feng shui! Feng shui!" they exclaimed with bated breaths. "The Fengshui no likee we."

  Low in the east the horizon began to blacken against the sky. It wasearly morning. A watch was set, the Chinamen sent below, and untildaybreak, when Charlie began to make a clattering of tins in the galleyas he set about preparing breakfast, Wilbur paced the rounds ofthe schooner, looking, listening, and waiting again for that slow,horrifying lift. But the rest of the night was without incident.

  After breakfast, the strangely assorted trio--Charlie, Moran, andWilbur--held another conference in the cabin. It was decided to move theschooner to the other side of the bay.

  "Feng shui in disa place, no likee we," announced Charlie.

  "Feng shui, who are they?"

  Charlie promptly became incoherent on this subject, and Moran and Wilburcould only guess that the Feng shui were the tutelary deities thatpresided over that portion of Magdalena Bay. At any rate, there wereevidently no more shark to be caught in that fishing-ground; so sailwas made, and by noon the "Bertha Millner" tied up to the kelp on theopposite side of the inlet, about half a mile from the shore.

  The shark were plentiful here and the fishing went forward again asbefore. Certain of these shark were hauled aboard, stunned by a blow onthe nose, and their fins cut off. The Chinamen packed these fins away inseparate kegs. Eventually they would be sent to China.

  Two or three days passed. The hands kept steadily at their work.Nothing more occurred to disturb the monotony of the scorching days andsoundless nights; the schooner sat as easily on the unbroken wateras though built to the bottom. Soon the night watch was discontinued.During these days the three officers lived high. Turtle were plentiful,and what with their steaks and soups, the fried abalones, the sea-fish,the really delicious shark-fins, and the quail that Charlie and Wilburtrapped along the shore, the trio had nothing to wish for in the way oftable luxuries.

  The shore was absolutely deserted, as well as the back country--anunbroken wilderness of sand and sage. Half a dozen times, Wilbur,wearying of his inaction aboard the schooner, made the entire circuit ofthe bay from point to point. Standing on one of the latter projectionsand looking out to the west, the Pacific appeared as empty of life asthe land. Never a keel cut those waters, never a sail broke the edge ofthe horizon, never a feather of smoke spotted the sky where itwhitened to meet the sea. Everything was empty--vast, unspeakablydesolate--palpitating with heat.

  Another week passed. Charlie began to complain that the shark weregrowing scarce again.

  "I think bime-by him go away, once a mo'."

  That same night, Wilbur, lying in his hammock, was awakened by a touchon his arm. He woke to see Moran beside him on the deck.

  "Did you hear anything?" she said in a low voice, looking at him underher scowl.

  "No! no!" he exclaimed, getting up, reaching for his wicker sandals."Did you?"

  "I thought so--something. Did you feel anything?"

  "I've been asleep, I haven't noticed anything. Is it beginning again?"

  "The schooner lifted again, just now, very gently. I happened to beawake or I wouldn't have noticed it." They were talking in low voices,as is the custom of people speaking in the dark.

  "There, what's that?" exclaimed Wilbur under his breath. A gentlevibration, barely perceptible, thrilled through the schooner. Underhis hand, that was clasped upon the rail, Wilbur could feel a fainttrembling in her frame. It stopped, began again, and died slowly away.

  "Well, what the devil IS it?" he muttered impatiently, trying to masterthe returning creep of dread.

  Moran shook her head, biting her lip.

  "It's beyond me," she said, frowning. "Can you see anything?" The sky,sea, and land were unbroken reaches of solitude. There was no breath ofwind.

  "Listen," said Moran. Far off to landward came the faint, sleepyclucking of a quail, and the stridulating of unnumbered crickets; along ripple licked the slope of the beach and slid back into the ocean.Wilbur shook his head.

  "Don't hear anything," he whispered. "Sh--there--she's trembling again."

  Once more a prolonged but faint quivering ran through the "BerthaMillner" from stem to stern, and from keel to masthead. There was abarely audible creaking of joints and panels. The oil in the deck-tubstrembled. The vibration was so fine and rapid that it tickled the solesof Wilbur's feet as he stood on the deck.

  "I'd give two fingers to know what it all means," murmured Moran ina low voice. "I've been to sea for--" Then suddenly she cried aloud:"Steady all, she's lifting again!"

  The schooner heaved slowly under them, this time by the stern. Up shewent, up and up, while Wilbur gripped at a stay to keep his place, andtried to choke down his heart, that seemed to beat against his palate.

  "God!" ejaculated Moran, her eyes blazing. "This thing is--" The"Bertha" came suddenly down to an easy keel, rocking in that glassy seaas if in a tide rip. The deck was awash with oil. Far out in the bay theripples widening from the schooner blurred the reflections of the stars.The Chinamen swarmed up the hatch-way, voluble and shrill. Again the"Bertha Millner" lifted and sank, the tubs sliding on the deck, themasts quivering like reeds, the timbers groaning aloud with the strain.In the stern something cracked and smashed. Then the trouble died away,the ripples faded into the ocean, and the schooner settled to her keel,quite motionless.

  "Look," said Moran, her face toward the "Bertha's" stern. "The rudderis out of the gudgeons." It was true--the "Bertha Millner's" helm wasunshipped.

  There was no more sleep for any one on board that night. Wilbur trampedthe quarterdeck, sick with a feeling he dared not put a name to. Moransat by the wrecked rudder-head, a useless pistol in her hand, swearingunder her breath from time to time. Charlie appeared on the quarterdeckat intervals, looked at Wilbur and Moran with wide-open eyes, and thentook himself away. On the forward deck the coolies pasted strips of redpaper inscribed with mottoes upon the mast, and filled the air with thereek of their joss-sticks.

  "If one could only SEE what it was," growled Moran between her clinchedteeth. "But this--this damned heaving and trembling, it--it's queer."

  "That's it, that's it," said Wilbur quickly, facing her. "What are wegoing to do, Moran?"

  "STICK IT OUT!" she exclaimed, striking her knee with her fist."We can't leave the schooner--I WON'T leave her. I'll stay by thisdough-dish as long as two planks in her hold together. Were you thinkingof cutting away?" She fixed him with her frown.

  Wilbur looked at her, sitting erect by the disabled rudder, her headbare, her braids of yellow hair hanging over her breast, sitting therein man's
clothes and man's boots, the pistol at her side. He shook hishead.

  "I'm not leaving the 'Bertha' till you do," he answered; adding: "I'llstand by you, mate, until we--"

  "Feel that?" said Moran, holding up a hand.

  A fine, quivering tremble was thrilling through every beam of theschooner, vibrating each rope like a harp-string. It passed away; butbefore either Wilbur or Moran could comment upon it recommenced, thistime much more perceptibly. Charlie dashed aft, his queue flying.

  "W'at makum heap shake?" he shouted; "w'at for him shake? No savvy, nolikee, pretty much heap flaid; aie-yah, aie-yah!"

  Slowly the schooner heaved up as though upon the crest of some hugewave, slowly it settled, and again gradually lifted till Wilbur hadto catch at the rail to steady his footing. The quivering sensationincreased so that their very teeth chattered with it. Below in the cabinthey could hear small objects falling from the shelves and table. Thenwith a sudden drop the "Bertha" fell back to her keel again, the spilledoil spouting from her scuppers, the masts rocking, the water churningand splashing from her sides.

  And that was all. There was no sound--nothing was in sight. There wasonly the frightened trembling of the little schooner and that long, slowheave and lift.

  Morning came, and breakfast was had in silence and grim perplexity. Itwas too late to think of getting away, now that the rudder was disabled.The "Bertha Millner" must bide where she was.

  "And a little more of this dancing," exclaimed Moran, "and we'll havethe planks springing off the stern-post."

  Charlie nodded solemnly. He said nothing--his gravity had returned. Nowin the glare of the tropical day, with the "Bertha Millner" sitting thesea as placidly as a brooding gull, he was Talleyrand again.

  "I tinkum yas," he said vaguely.

  "Well, I think we had better try and fix the rudder and put back toFrisco," said Moran. "You're making no money this way. There are noshark to be caught. SOMETHING'S wrong. They're gone away somewhere. Thecrew are eating their heads off and not earning enough money to pay fortheir keep. What do you think?"

  "I tinkum yas."

  "Then we'll go home. Is that it?"

  "I tinkum yas--to-molla."

  "To-morrow?"

  "Yas."

  "That's settled then," persisted Moran, surprised at his readyacquiescence; "we start home to-morrow?" Charlie nodded.

  "To-molla," he said.

  The rudder was not so badly damaged as they had at first supposed; thebreak was easily mended, but it was found necessary for one of the mento go over the side.

  "Get over the side here, Jim," commanded Moran. "Charlie, tell himwhat's wanted; we can't work the pintle in from the deck."

  But Charlie shook his head.

  "Him no likee go; him plenty much flaid."

  Moran ripped out an oath.

  "What do I care if he's afraid! I want him to shove the pintle intothe lower gudgeon. My God," she exclaimed, with immense contempt, "whatcarrion! I'd sooner work a boat with she-monkeys. Mr. Wilbur, I shallhave to ask you to go over. I thought I was captain here, but it alldepends on whether these rats are afraid or not."

  "Plenty many shark," expostulated Charlie. "Him flaid shark come back,catchum chop-chop."

  "Stand by here with a couple of cutting-in spades," cried Moran, "andfend off if you see any shark; now, then, are you ready, mate?"

  Wilbur took his determination in both hands, threw off his coat andsandals, and went over the stern rail.

  "Put your ear to the water," called Moran from above; "sometimes you canhear their flukes."

  It took but a minute to adjust the pintle, and Wilbur regained the deckagain, dripping and a little pale. He knew not what horrid form of deathmight have been lurking for him down below there underneath the kelp.As he started forward for dry clothes he was surprised to observe thatMoran was smiling at him, holding out her hand.

  "That was well done," she said, "and thank you. I've seen oldersailor-men than you who wouldn't have taken the risk." Never beforehad she appeared more splendid in his eyes than at this moment. Afterchanging his clothes in the fo'castle, he sat for a long time, his chinin his hands, very thoughtful. Then at length, as though voicing theconclusion of his reflections, said aloud, as he rose to his feet:

  "But, of course, THAT is out of the question."

  He remembered that they were going home on the next day. Withina fortnight he would be in San Francisco again--a taxpayer, apolice-protected citizen once more. It had been good fun, after all,this three weeks' life on the "Bertha Millner," a strange episode cutout from the normal circle of his conventional life. He ran over theincidents of the cruise--Kitchell, the turtle hunt, the finding ofthe derelict, the dead captain, the squall, and the awful sight ofthe sinking bark, Moran at the wheel, the grewsome business of theshark-fishing, and last of all that inexplicable lifting and quiveringof the schooner. He told himself that now he would probably never knowthe explanation of that mystery.

  The day passed in preparations to put to sea again. The deck-tubs andhogsheads were stowed below and the tackle cleared away. By evening allwas ready; they would be under way by daybreak the next morning. Therewas a possibility of their being forced to tow the schooner out bymeans of the dory, so light were the airs inside. Once beyond the heads,however, they were sure of a breeze.

  About ten o'clock that night, the same uncanny trembling ran through theschooner again, and about half an hour later she lifted gently once ortwice. But after that she was undisturbed.

  Later on in the night--or rather early in the morning--Wilbur wokesuddenly in his hammock without knowing why, and got up and stoodlistening. The "Bertha Millner" was absolutely quiet. The night was hotand still; the new moon, canted over like a sinking galleon, was lowover the horizon. Wilbur listened intently, for now at last he heardsomething.

  Between the schooner and the shore a gentle sound of splashing cameto his ears, and an occasional crack as of oars in their locks. Was itpossible that a boat was there between the schooner and the land? Whatboat, and manned by whom?

  The creaking of oarlocks and the dip of paddles was unmistakable.

  Suddenly Wilbur raised his voice in a great shout:

  "Boat ahoy!"

  There was no answer; the noise of oars grew fainter. Moran came runningout of her cabin, swinging into her coat as she ran.

  "What is it--what is it?"

  "A boat, I think, right off the schooner here. Hark--there--did you hearthe oars?"

  "You're right; call the hands, get the dory over, we'll follow that boatright up. Hello, forward there, Charlie, all hands, tumble out!"

  Then Wilbur and Moran caught themselves looking into each other's eyes.At once something--perhaps the latent silence of the schooner--told themthere was to be no answer. The two ran for-ward: Moran swung herselfinto the fo'castle hatch, and without using the ladder dropped to thedeck below. In an instant her voice came up the hatch:

  "The bunks are empty--they're gone--abandoned us." She came up theladder again.

  "Look," said Wilbur, as she regained the deck. "The dory's gone; they'vetaken it. It was our only boat; we can't get ashore."

  "Cowardly, superstitious rats, I should have expected this. Theywould be chopped in bits before they would stay longer on board thisboat--they and their-Feng shui."

  When morning came the deserters could be made out camped on the shore,near to the beached dory. What their intentions were could not beconjectured. Ridden with all manner of nameless Oriental superstitions,it was evident that the Chinamen preferred any hazard of fortune toremaining longer upon the schooner.

  "Well, can we get along without them?" said Wilbur. "Can we two work theschooner back to port ourselves?"

  "We'll try it on, anyhow, mate," said Moran; "we might get her into SanDiego, anyhow."

  The Chinamen had left plenty of provisions on board, and Moran cookedbreakfast. Fortunately, by eight o'clock a very light westerly breezecame up. Moran and Wilbur cast off the gaskets and set the fore and ma
insails.

  Wilbur was busy at the forward bitts preparing to cast loose from thekelp, and Moran had taken up her position at the wheel when suddenly sheexclaimed:

  "Sail ho!--and in God's name what kind of a sail do you call it?"

  In fact a strange-looking craft had just made her appearance at theentrance of Magdalena Bay.