CHAPTER XXX--THE LAST OF THE WRECK
Thick fog lay upon the water when Jimmy wakened. He slipped off thelocker and, standing with his bent head among the deckbeams, looked atBethune with heavy eyes.
"Is it dark?" he asked. "How long have I slept?"
"It is not dark yet. How do you feel?"
"I think I'm all right. Did you get the case?"
"Sure!" smiled Bethune. "It's safe under the floorings and heavy enoughto make the salvage worth having. But I came down to bring you this notefrom Aynsley. One of his men brought it and his gig's waitingalongside."
Jimmy opened the note and read it aloud in the dim light of the cabin.
_"I shall consider it a favor if you will come across at once. My father seems very ill and he insists on seeing you."_
"I'd better go," Jimmy said. "After all, we couldn't have got the casewithout his help, and, in a way, I'm sorry for him. He must have knownhe was running a big risk, but he was very plucky."
"It can't do much harm," Bethune agreed. "Somehow I feel that we havenothing more to fear from him. For all that, I wish I could go withyou."
"I suppose that wouldn't do," said Jimmy thoughtfully.
"No; you can't take your lawyer along when you visit a sick man. Still,if he's not quite as bad as Aynsley thinks, you may as well be on yourguard."
Jimmy got into the waiting boat and the men plied the oars rhythmically.A bank of clammy fog rested on the slate-green heave that moved in fromseaward in slow undulations. The damp condensed on the boat's thwartsand her knees were beaded with moisture. The air felt strangely raw, andthe measured beat of the surf rose drearily from the hidden beach. Atintervals the tolling of a bell sounded through the noises of the sea;and when the yacht appeared, looming up gray and ghostly, her riggingdripped, her deck was sloppy, and the seamen at the gangway had a limp,bedraggled look. Everything seemed cheerless and depressing; andAynsley's face was anxious as he hurried toward Jimmy.
"It was good of you to come," he said. "I hope you're none the worse."
"Not much. I'm sorry your father has suffered from the trip, but Ireally did my best."
"I'm sure of that," Aynsley responded. "But he's waiting to see you."
He led Jimmy into a handsome teak deckhouse between the masts, andopened a door into the owner's cabin, which occupied the full width ofthe house. Two electric lamps were burning, rich curtains were drawnacross the windows to shut out the foggy light, and a fire burnedcheerfully in an open-fronted stove, encased in decorated tiles. Itspipe was of polished brass; the walls and the ceiling were enameled aspotless white, with the moldings of the beams picked out in harmoniouscolor; two good marine pictures hung on the cross bulkhead. The placestruck Jimmy as being strangely luxurious after the cramped, damp cabinof the sloop; but he soon forgot his surroundings when his eyes restedon the figure lying in the corner-berth.
Clay had thrown off the coverings and was propped up on two largepillows. His silk pajamas showed the massiveness of his short neck andhis powerful chest and arms; but his face was pinched and gray exceptwhere it was streaked with a faint purple tinge. Jimmy could see thatthe man was very ill.
"I hear you got the case," Clay began in a strained voice, motioningJimmy to a seat.
"Yes. The others brought it up; I haven't examined it yet."
"You'll find it all right." Clay smiled weakly. "I suppose you knowthere's another case and a couple of small packages still in thestrong-room?"
"We understood so."
"Get them up; they're in the sand. You can have my diver, and itshouldn't take you long. You're welcome to the salvage; it isn't worthfighting you about. After that, there will be nothing left in her. Igive you my word for it, and you can clear out when you like."
"None of us wants to stay; we have had enough. I suppose you have noidea of going down again?"
"No," Clay answered rather grimly; "it doesn't seem probable. I haven'tthanked you yet for bringing me up." He turned to Aynsley. "Mr. Farquharstuck to me when I was half conscious and helpless. I'd like you toremember that. Now I want a quiet talk with him."
Aynsley left them, and Clay was silent for a moment or two. He lay backon the pillows with his eyes closed, and when he spoke it seemed to bewith an effort.
"About the bogus case? What are you going to do with it?"
"We have been too busy to think of that. You spoke of an exchange, butof course we haven't the thing here--"
"No," said Clay. "Your partner's pretty smart and I guess you have gotit safely locked up in one of the Island ports. The chances are that youwon't be able to give it to me."
Jimmy understood him. Clay seemed to know that he was very ill. He layquiet again, as if it tired him to talk.
"It has been a straight fight on your side," he resumed after his shortrest. "I guess you might give that box to Osborne. You're white men,and, though you might perhaps make trouble about it, the thing's no useto you. You know Osborne?"
"Yes," Jimmy answered rather awkwardly, because he saw what the questionimplied. Clay had judged him correctly; for Jimmy had no wish to extorta price for keeping a dark secret. He thought he could answer for hiscomrades, though he would not make a binding promise without theirconsent.
"I believe you know Ruth Osborne," Clay went on with a searching glanceat him.
Jimmy was taken off his guard, and Clay noticed his slight start andchange of expression.
"I met Miss Osborne on board the _Empress_," he replied cautiously.
Clay smiled.
"Well," he said, "she's a girl who makes an impression, and my notion isthat her character matches her looks." He paused and went on with athoughtful air: "Anyhow, she wouldn't have Aynsley."
Jimmy colored. Clay's manner was significant, but not hostile. Ill asthe man was, Jimmy imagined that he was cleverly playing a game, and,with some object, was trying to turn his recent opponent into an ally.For all that, Jimmy thought his motive was good.
"I mustn't keep you talking too long," Jimmy said. He did not wish todiscuss Miss Osborne.
"I soon get tired; but there's something I must mention. You'll cleanthe wreck out in a few hours, and then you may as well blow her up. Mydiver will help you, and we have some high-grade powder and a firingoutfit."
"It might be wise. If she washed up nearer the bight she would bedangerous. The island's charted, and I dare say vessels now and then runin."
Clay looked at him with a faint twinkle.
"Yes; I think we can take it that she's a danger. I'll tell my man togive you the truck you want and you had better get finished while theweather's fine."
Moving feebly, he held out his hand in sign of dismissal, and Jimmy tookit. He had no repugnance to doing so, but he felt that he was making hishelpless enemy a promise.
Aynsley was waiting on deck and insisted on Jimmy's staying to dinner.Although well served, it was a melancholy meal, and Jimmy had a sense ofloneliness as he sat at the long table. Aynsley was attentive to hiscomfort and tried to make conversation, but he was obviously depressed.
"What are your plans?" he asked.
"We start to get out the last of the gold at daybreak," Jimmy answered."If we're fortunate, it should take only three or four hours."
"And then?"
"I agreed with your father that we had better blow up the wreck."
"You should get that done before dark to-morrow."
"I think so, if the water keeps smooth. In fact, I dare say we'll havefinished in the afternoon."
"That's a relief," declared Aynsley. "Perhaps I'm not tactful inreminding you that I don't know--and don't want to know--what yourbusiness with my father is, but he's seriously ill, and we ought to getaway at once in order to put him in a good doctor's hands as soon aspossible. The trouble is that he won't hear of our leaving until youhave completed the job."
"We'll lose no time," Jimmy assured him. "The glass is dropping, but Idon't expect much wind just yet."
"Thanks!" Aynsley responded with deep
feeling. "There's anotherthing--if the wind's light or unfavorable, we'll start under steam andcould tow you south as long as it keeps fine. It may save you a fewdays. And you could stay with us if your friends can spare you. To tellthe truth, it would be a kindness to me. I'm worried, and want somebodyto talk to."
Jimmy agreed, and was shortly afterward rowed back to the sloop.
By noon the next day they had brought up the last of the gold. After ahasty luncheon, they went down again, but their next task took sometime, because the diver insisted on clamping the charges of dynamitefirmly to the principal timbers and boring holes in some. Then a seriesof wires had to be taken below and coupled, and it was nearly suppertime when Jimmy came up from his last descent.
A faint breeze flecked the leaden water with ripples too languid tobreak on the sloop's bows; the island was wrapped in fog, and the swellwas gentle. Only a dull murmur rose from the hidden beach. To seaward itwas clearer and the yacht rode, a long white shape, lifting her bowswith a slow and rhythmic swing, while a gray cloud that spread in a hazysmear rose nearly straight up from her funnel. The sloop's cable washove short and everything was ready for departure. Her crew sat in thecockpit watching the diver fit the wires to the contact-plug of thefiring battery.
The men on the sloop were filled with keen impatience. They had bornemany hardships and perils in those lonely waters, and, now that theirwork was finished, they wanted to get away. There was a mysteryconnected with the wreck, but they thought they would never unravel it,and, on the whole, they had no wish to try. They were anxious to see theend of her and to leave the fog-wrapped island.
"I guess we're all ready," the diver said at last. "See that you haveleft nothing loose to fall overboard: she'll shift some water."
He inserted the firing-plug; and a moment afterward the sea opened somedistance ahead and rolled back from a gap in the bottom of whichshattered timber churned about. Then a foaming wave rose suddenly fromthe chasm, tossing up black masses of planking and ponderous beams. Afew, rearing on end, shot out of the water and fell with a heavy splashamong fountains of spray, while a white ridge swept furiously toward thesloop. It broke before it reached her, but she flung her bows high asshe plunged over the troubled swell, and the yacht rolled heavily with ayeasty wash along her side.
Jimmy ran forward with a sense of keen satisfaction to break out theanchor. The powerful charge had done its work; the wreck had gone.
While the _Cetacea_ drifted slowly with the stream the yacht's windlassbegan to clank, and a few minutes later she steamed toward the smallercraft. Her gig brought off a hawser, and a message inviting Jimmy tocome on board. As soon as he reached her deck the gig was run up to thedavits and the throb of engines quickened. The sloop, swinging into lineastern, followed along the screw-cut wake, and in half an hour thefog-bank about the island faded out of sight.
Jimmy felt more cheerful when he dined with Aynsley in the saloon. Thedepression that had rested on them all seemed to have been lifted withthe disappearance of the wreck. Even Clay appeared to be brighter. Hesent a request for Jimmy to come to him as soon as he finished dinner.
When Jimmy entered the cabin, Clay lay in his berth, comfortably raisedon pillows. He gave Jimmy a friendly nod.
"She's gone? You made a good job?"
"Yes," Jimmy answered cheerfully. "We didn't spare the dynamite."
Clay beckoned him forward, and, reaching out awkwardly to a small tableby his berth, took up a glass of champagne. Another stood near it, readyfilled.
"I make a bad host and soon get tired, but Aynsley will do his best foryou," he said cordially. He smiled and raised his glass. "Good luck toyou; you're a white man!"
Jimmy drained his glass, and took Clay's from his shaking hand. When theelder man thanked him with a gesture, Jimmy saw that he was too ill totalk, and he went out quietly and joined Aynsley on deck.
He spent three days on board the yacht, which steamed steadily south,but late on the fourth night a steward awakened him.
"It's blowing fresh, sir," he said. "The captain thought you'd like toknow your boat's towing very wild and he can't hold on to her long."
Jimmy had been prepared for such an emergency, and he was on deck infive minutes, fully dressed with his sea-boots and slickers on; andAynsley joined him in the lee of the deckhouse with a pilot coat overhis pajamas. The engines were turning slowly, and the rolling of theyacht and the showers of spray showed that the sea was getting up.
"They're launching the gig," Aynsley said. "I wish we could keep you,but I suppose your friends need you?"
"Thanks! They couldn't navigate her home."
Jimmy ran toward the bulwarks and shouted to a group of seamen:
"Don't bother with that ladder, boys!"
Somebody lighted a blue flare on the deckhouse top, and the strong lightshowed the gig lurching on the broken heave on the yacht's lee side.Near by, the _Cetacea_ lay plunging with her staysail up, while a darkfigure on her deck flashed a lantern. Jimmy shook hands with Aynsley andsprang up on the rail; then, leaning out, seized a davit-fall and slidswiftly down. A man released the tackle-hook and pushed off the gig; theoars splashed and a sea swept her away from the yacht. In a few minutesJimmy jumped on board the sloop and helped Moran to cast off the hawserwhile the gig struggled back. Another flare was burning, and he saw theboat hoisted in. Then the blaze sank down and, with a farewell blast ofher whistle, the steamer vanished into the dark.
Spray leaped about the rolling sloop, her low deck was swept by thehurling sea, and a tangle of hard, wet ropes swung about the mast.
"We've double-reefed the mainsail and bent on the storm-jib," Moransaid, above the noise of the sea. "She'll carry that lot with the windon her quarter."
"She ought to," replied Jimmy. "Up with the throat!"
Fumbling in the dark, they hoisted the thrashing sail, and when the_Cetacea_ listed down until her rail was in the foam Jimmy went aft torelieve Bethune at the helm.
"She'll make a short passage if this breeze holds," he said cheerfully."As I've had three nights' good sleep, I'll take the first watch."
While the sloop was driving wildly south before the following seas, orbeating slowly in long tacks when the breeze fell light and drew ahead,the yacht skimmed over the water at her best speed; and one gray morningshe steamed up Puget Sound, and a low blast of her whistle rangdolefully as she passed Osborne's house. Clay had made his last voyage;she brought his lifeless body home.