CHAPTER XXV
THE SECRET OF THE VESSEL'S HOLD
"Idiot that I am," cried Cleggett, "not to have covered that hole!"His chagrin was touching to behold.
"There, there, Cleggett," said Wilton Barnstable kindly, "do notreproach yourself too bitterly."
"But to let him escape when I had him----" Cleggett finished thesentence with a groan.
But Wilton Barnstable was thinking.
"Please have some lights brought down here if you will, Captain," hesaid to Abernethy, "and ask Mr. Bard and Mr. Ward to come."
In a few minutes the interior of the hold was illuminated withlanterns; it was as bright as day. But the detectives did not proceedat once to a minute examination of the hold as Cleggett had supposedthey would.
Instead, they stood in the waist of the vessel and thought.
Visibly they thought. Wilton Barnstable thought.
Barton Ward thought. Watson Bard thought. They thought in silence.Cleggett could almost feel these three master brains pulsating inunison, working in rhythmic accord, there in the silence; the sense ofthis intense cerebral effort became almost oppressive....
Finally Wilton Barnstable began to stroke his mustache, and a pleasedsmile stole over his plump and benign visage. Barton Ward also beganto stroke his mustache and smile. But it was twenty seconds morebefore Watson Bard's corrugated brow relaxed and his eyes twinkled withthe idea that had come so much more readily to the other two.
"Cleggett," said Wilton Barnstable, "you have heard of the deductivemethod as applied to the work of the detective?"
"I have," said Cleggett. "I have read Poe's detective tales andDoyle's Sherlock Holmes stories."
"Ah! Sherlock Holmes!" The three detectives looked at each other withglances in which were mingled both bitterness and amusement; the lookseemed to dispose of Sherlock Holmes. Once again Cleggett had afleeting thought that Wilton Barnstable might possibly be a vain man.
"Sherlock Holmes," said Barnstable, "never existed. His marvelousfeats are not possible in real life, Cleggett. But the deductivemethod which he pretended to use--mind you, I say PRETENDED,Cleggett!--is, nevertheless, sound."
And then the three detectives gave Cleggett an example of thephenomenal cleverness.
"Mr. Ward," said Wilton Barnstable, "Logan Black entered this hold."
"He did," said Barton Ward.
"He is not here now," said Wilton Barnstable.
"He is not," said Watson Bard.
"Therefore he has escaped," said Wilton Barnstable.
"But how?" said Barton Ward.
"Only a ghost or an insect could leave this hold otherwise than by thehatchway, to all appearances," said Wilton Barnstable.
"Logan Black is not a ghost," said Barton Ward firmly.
"Logan Black is not an insect," said Watson Bard with conviction.
"Then," said Barnstable, "that eliminates the supernatural andthe--the----"
"The entomological?" suggested Cleggett.
The three detectives stared at him fixedly for a moment, as ifsurprised at the interruption. But if they were miffed they were toodignified to do more than hint it. Barnstable continued:
"There is no such thing as magic."
"There is not," said Ward.
"The fourth dimension does not exist," said Bard.
"Therefore Logan Black's exit," said Barnstable, "was in accordancewith well-known physical laws. We are forced to the conclusion that hemade his escape through a secret passageway."
"A tunnel," said Barton Ward.
"With a concealed door opening into the hold," said Watson Bard.
"A ship with a secret tunnel!" cried Cleggett. "Who ever heard of thelike? Why, the thing is----"
But he broke off. He had been leaning against the starboard side ofthe hold. Even as he spoke he felt the wall behind him moving. Heturned. A door was opening. It was built into the side of the JasperB. and the joints were cleverly concealed. He had inadvertently found,with his elbow, the nailhead which was in reality the push button thatreleased the spring. The black entrance of a subterranean passageyawned before him.
He stared in astonishment. The three detectives were pointing at thetunnel with plump forefingers and bland, triumphant smiles.
"Nothing is impossible, my dear Cleggett," said Barnstable. "Thetunnel HAD to be there!"
"It explains everything," said Cleggett. "But a tunnel into MY ship!"
And, in truth, for a moment he felt disappointed in the Jasper B.
A tunnel is all very well leading from the basement of a house, orextending backward from a cave; but Cleggett felt that it was scarcelya dignified sort of arrangement, nautically speaking, for a ship tohave leading from its hold.
It seemed, somehow, to stamp the Jasper B. indelibly as a thing of theland rather than as the gallant creature of piping winds and followingseas. Could the Jasper B., a bone in her teeth and her tackle humming,ever again sail through Cleggett's dreams? For a moment, if the worstmust be known, he was almost disgusted with the Jasper B., consideredas a ship. For a moment he was willing to believe that Cap'n Abernethywas nothing but a Long Island truck farmer, and NOT of a seafaringfamily at all. For a moment he felt himself to be a copyreader againon the New York Enterprise.
But only for a moment! The star of romance, clouded temporarily byfact, rose serene and bright again in the wide heaven of the unusualspirit, the barber's basin gleamed once more the helmet of Mambrino.Cleggett began to see the matter in its proper light.
"A tunnel!" he cried, brightening, and looking at it with his legsspread a little wide and his hands on his hips. "A tunnel! Eh, by gad!Who could have prophesied a tunnel? Barnstable, never tell me againthere is no romance in real life! I tell you, Barnstable, she's a goodold ship, the Jasper B.! I don't suppose there was ever anotherschooner in the world with a secret passageway leading out of her hold!"
"She IS a remarkable vessel," agreed Wilton Barnstable gravely. "But,come, we are wasting time! The other end of this passage is atMorris's, that is plain. Loge Black has only a few minutes' start ofus. Therefore, to Morris's!"