The Return of Tarzan Read online

  Chapter 13

  The Wreck of the "Lady Alice"

  The next morning at breakfast Tarzan's place was vacant. Miss Strongwas mildly curious, for Mr. Caldwell had always made it a point to waitthat he might breakfast with her and her mother. As she was sitting ondeck later Monsieur Thuran paused to exchange a half dozen pleasantwords with her. He seemed in most excellent spirits--his manner wasthe extreme of affability. As he passed on Miss Strong thought what avery delightful man was Monsieur Thuran.

  The day dragged heavily. She missed the quiet companionship of Mr.Caldwell--there had been something about him that had made the girllike him from the first; he had talked so entertainingly of the placeshe had seen--the peoples and their customs--the wild beasts; and he hadalways had a droll way of drawing striking comparisons between savageanimals and civilized men that showed a considerable knowledge of theformer, and a keen, though somewhat cynical, estimate of the latter.

  When Monsieur Thuran stopped again to chat with her in the afternoonshe welcomed the break in the day's monotony. But she had begun tobecome seriously concerned in Mr. Caldwell's continued absence;somehow she constantly associated it with the start she had had thenight before, when the dark object fell past her port into the sea.Presently she broached the subject to Monsieur Thuran. Had he seen Mr.Caldwell today? He had not. Why?

  "He was not at breakfast as usual, nor have I seen him once sinceyesterday," explained the girl.

  Monsieur Thuran was extremely solicitous.

  "I did not have the pleasure of intimate acquaintance with Mr.Caldwell," he said. "He seemed a most estimable gentleman, however.Can it be that he is indisposed, and has remained in his stateroom? Itwould not be strange."

  "No," replied the girl, "it would not be strange, of course; but forsome inexplicable reason I have one of those foolish femininepresentiments that all is not right with Mr. Caldwell. It is thestrangest feeling--it is as though I knew that he was not on board theship."

  Monsieur Thuran laughed pleasantly. "Mercy, my dear Miss Strong," hesaid; "where in the world could he be then? We have not been withinsight of land for days."

  "Of course, it is ridiculous of me," she admitted. And then: "But I amnot going to worry about it any longer; I am going to find out whereMr. Caldwell is," and she motioned to a passing steward.

  "That may be more difficult than you imagine, my dear girl," thoughtMonsieur Thuran, but aloud he said: "By all means."

  "Find Mr. Caldwell, please," she said to the steward, "and tell himthat his friends are much worried by his continued absence."

  "You are very fond of Mr. Caldwell?" suggested Monsieur Thuran.

  "I think he is splendid," replied the girl. "And mamma is perfectlyinfatuated with him. He is the sort of man with whom one has a feelingof perfect security--no one could help but have confidence in Mr.Caldwell."

  A moment later the steward returned to say that Mr. Caldwell was not inhis stateroom. "I cannot find him, Miss Strong, and"--he hesitated--"Ihave learned that his berth was not occupied last night. I think thatI had better report the matter to the captain."

  "Most assuredly," exclaimed Miss Strong. "I shall go with you to thecaptain myself. It is terrible! I know that something awful hashappened. My presentiments were not false, after all."

  It was a very frightened young woman and an excited steward whopresented themselves before the captain a few moments later. Helistened to their stories in silence--a look of concern marking hisexpression as the steward assured him that he had sought for themissing passenger in every part of the ship that a passenger might beexpected to frequent.

  "And are you sure, Miss Strong, that you saw a body fall overboard lastnight?" he asked.

  "There is not the slightest doubt about that," she answered. "I cannotsay that it was a human body--there was no outcry. It might have beenonly what I thought it was--a bundle of refuse. But if Mr. Caldwell isnot found on board I shall always be positive that it was he whom I sawfall past my port."

  The captain ordered an immediate and thorough search of the entire shipfrom stem to stern--no nook or cranny was to be overlooked. MissStrong remained in his cabin, waiting the outcome of the quest. Thecaptain asked her many questions, but she could tell him nothing aboutthe missing man other than what she had herself seen during their briefacquaintance on shipboard. For the first time she suddenly realizedhow very little indeed Mr. Caldwell had told her about himself or hispast life. That he had been born in Africa and educated in Paris wasabout all she knew, and this meager information had been the result ofher surprise that an Englishman should speak English with such a markedFrench accent.

  "Did he ever speak of any enemies?" asked the captain.

  "Never."

  "Was he acquainted with any of the other passengers?"

  "Only as he had been with me--through the circumstance of casualmeeting as fellow shipmates."

  "Er--was he, in your opinion, Miss Strong, a man who drank to excess?"

  "I do not know that he drank at all--he certainly had not been drinkingup to half an hour before I saw that body fall overboard," sheanswered, "for I was with him on deck up to that time."

  "It is very strange," said the captain. "He did not look to me like aman who was subject to fainting spells, or anything of that sort. Andeven had he been it is scarcely credible that he should have fallencompletely over the rail had he been taken with an attack while leaningupon it--he would rather have fallen inside, upon the deck. If he isnot on board, Miss Strong, he was thrown overboard--and the fact thatyou heard no outcry would lead to the assumption that he was deadbefore he left the ship's deck--murdered."

  The girl shuddered.

  It was a full hour later that the first officer returned to report theoutcome of the search.

  "Mr. Caldwell is not on board, sir," he said.

  "I fear that there is something more serious than accident here, Mr.Brently," said the captain. "I wish that you would make a personal andvery careful examination of Mr. Caldwell's effects, to ascertain ifthere is any clew to a motive either for suicide or murder--sift thething to the bottom."

  "Aye, aye, sir!" responded Mr. Brently, and left to commence hisinvestigation.

  Hazel Strong was prostrated. For two days she did not leave her cabin,and when she finally ventured on deck she was very wan and white, withgreat, dark circles beneath her eyes. Waking or sleeping, it seemedthat she constantly saw that dark body dropping, swift and silent, intothe cold, grim sea.

  Shortly after her first appearance on deck following the tragedy,Monsieur Thuran joined her with many expressions of kindly solicitude.

  "Oh, but it is terrible, Miss Strong," he said. "I cannot rid my mindof it."

  "Nor I," said the girl wearily. "I feel that he might have been savedhad I but given the alarm."

  "You must not reproach yourself, my dear Miss Strong," urged MonsieurThuran. "It was in no way your fault. Another would have done as youdid. Who would think that because something fell into the sea from aship that it must necessarily be a man? Nor would the outcome havebeen different had you given an alarm. For a while they would havedoubted your story, thinking it but the nervous hallucination of awoman--had you insisted it would have been too late to have rescued himby the time the ship could have been brought to a stop, and the boatslowered and rowed back miles in search of the unknown spot where thetragedy had occurred. No, you must not censure yourself. You havedone more than any other of us for poor Mr. Caldwell--you were the onlyone to miss him. It was you who instituted the search."

  The girl could not help but feel grateful to him for his kind andencouraging words. He was with her often--almost constantly for theremainder of the voyage--and she grew to like him very much indeed.Monsieur Thuran had learned that the beautiful Miss Strong, ofBaltimore, was an American heiress--a very wealthy girl in her ownright, and with future prospects that quite took his breath away whenhe contemplated them, and since he spent most of his time in thatdelect
able pastime it is a wonder that he breathed at all.

  It had been Monsieur Thuran's intention to leave the ship at the firstport they touched after the disappearance of Tarzan. Did he not havein his coat pocket the thing he had taken passage upon this very boatto obtain? There was nothing more to detain him here. He could notreturn to the Continent fast enough, that he might board the firstexpress for St. Petersburg.

  But now another idea had obtruded itself, and was rapidly crowding hisoriginal intentions into the background. That American fortune was notto be sneezed at, nor was its possessor a whit less attractive.

  "SAPRISTI! but she would cause a sensation in St. Petersburg." And hewould, too, with the assistance of her inheritance.

  After Monsieur Thuran had squandered a few million dollars, hediscovered that the vocation was so entirely to his liking that hewould continue on down to Cape Town, where he suddenly decided that hehad pressing engagements that might detain him there for some time.

  Miss Strong had told him that she and her mother were to visit thelatter's brother there--they had not decided upon the duration of theirstay, and it would probably run into months.

  She was delighted when she found that Monsieur Thuran was to be therealso.

  "I hope that we shall be able to continue our acquaintance," she said."You must call upon mamma and me as soon as we are settled."

  Monsieur Thuran was delighted at the prospect, and lost no time insaying so. Mrs. Strong was not quite so favorably impressed by him asher daughter.

  "I do not know why I should distrust him," she said to Hazel one day asthey were discussing him. "He seems a perfect gentleman in everyrespect, but sometimes there is something about his eyes--a fleetingexpression which I cannot describe, but which when I see it gives me avery uncanny feeling."

  The girl laughed. "You are a silly dear, mamma," she said.

  "I suppose so, but I am sorry that we have not poor Mr. Caldwell forcompany instead."

  "And I, too," replied her daughter.

  Monsieur Thuran became a frequent visitor at the home of Hazel Strong'suncle in Cape Town. His attentions were very marked, but they were sopunctiliously arranged to meet the girl's every wish that she came todepend upon him more and more. Did she or her mother or a cousinrequire an escort--was there a little friendly service to be rendered,the genial and ubiquitous Monsieur Thuran was always available. Heruncle and his family grew to like him for his unfailing courtesy andwillingness to be of service. Monsieur Thuran was becomingindispensable. At length, feeling the moment propitious, he proposed.Miss Strong was startled. She did not know what to say.

  "I had never thought that you cared for me in any such way," she toldhim. "I have looked upon you always as a very dear friend. I shallnot give you my answer now. Forget that you have asked me to be yourwife. Let us go on as we have been--then I can consider you from anentirely different angle for a time. It may be that I shall discoverthat my feeling for you is more than friendship. I certainly have notthought for a moment that I loved you."

  This arrangement was perfectly satisfactory to Monsieur Thuran. Hedeeply regretted that he had been hasty, but he had loved her for solong a time, and so devotedly, that he thought that every one must knowit.

  "From the first time I saw you, Hazel," he said, "I have loved you. Iam willing to wait, for I am certain that so great and pure a love asmine will be rewarded. All that I care to know is that you do not loveanother. Will you tell me?"

  "I have never been in love in my life," she replied, and he was quitesatisfied. On the way home that night he purchased a steam yacht, andbuilt a million-dollar villa on the Black Sea.

  The next day Hazel Strong enjoyed one of the happiest surprises of herlife--she ran face to face upon Jane Porter as she was coming out of ajeweler's shop.

  "Why, Jane Porter!" she exclaimed. "Where in the world did you dropfrom? Why, I can't believe my own eyes."

  "Well, of all things!" cried the equally astonished Jane. "And here Ihave been wasting whole reams of perfectly good imagination picturingyou in Baltimore--the very idea!" And she threw her arms about herfriend once more, and kissed her a dozen times.

  By the time mutual explanations had been made Hazel knew that LordTennington's yacht had put in at Cape Town for at least a week's stay,and at the end of that time was to continue on her voyage--this time upthe West Coast--and so back to England. "Where," concluded Jane, "I amto be married."

  "Then you are not married yet?" asked Hazel.

  "Not yet," replied Jane, and then, quite irrelevantly, "I wish Englandwere a million miles from here."

  Visits were exchanged between the yacht and Hazel's relatives. Dinnerswere arranged, and trips into the surrounding country to entertain thevisitors. Monsieur Thuran was a welcome guest at every function. Hegave a dinner himself to the men of the party, and managed toingratiate himself in the good will of Lord Tennington by many littleacts of hospitality.

  Monsieur Thuran had heard dropped a hint of something which mightresult from this unexpected visit of Lord Tennington's yacht, and hewanted to be counted in on it. Once when he was alone with theEnglishman he took occasion to make it quite plain that his engagementto Miss Strong was to be announced immediately upon their return toAmerica. "But not a word of it, my dear Tennington--not a word of it."

  "Certainly, I quite understand, my dear fellow," Tennington hadreplied. "But you are to be congratulated--ripping girl, don't youknow--really."

  The next day it came. Mrs. Strong, Hazel, and Monsieur Thuran wereLord Tennington's guests aboard his yacht. Mrs. Strong had beentelling them how much she had enjoyed her visit at Cape Town, and thatshe regretted that a letter just received from her attorneys inBaltimore had necessitated her cutting her visit shorter than they hadintended.

  "When do you sail?" asked Tennington.

  "The first of the week, I think," she replied. "Indeed?" exclaimedMonsieur Thuran. "I am very fortunate. I, too, have found that I mustreturn at once, and now I shall have the honor of accompanying andserving you."

  "That is nice of you, Monsieur Thuran," replied Mrs. Strong. "I amsure that we shall be glad to place ourselves under your protection."But in the bottom of her heart was the wish that they might escape him.Why, she could not have told.

  "By Jove!" ejaculated Lord Tennington, a moment later. "Bully idea, byJove!"

  "Yes, Tennington, of course," ventured Clayton; "it must be a bullyidea if you had it, but what the deuce is it? Goin' to steam to Chinavia the south pole?"

  "Oh, I say now, Clayton," returned Tennington, "you needn't be so roughon a fellow just because you didn't happen to suggest this tripyourself--you've acted a regular bounder ever since we sailed.

  "No, sir," he continued, "it's a bully idea, and you'll all say so.It's to take Mrs. Strong and Miss Strong, and Thuran, too, if he'llcome, as far as England with us on the yacht. Now, isn't that acorker?"

  "Forgive me, Tenny, old boy," cried Clayton. "It certainly IS acorking idea--I never should have suspected you of it. You're quitesure it's original, are you?"

  "And we'll sail the first of the week, or any other time that suitsyour convenience, Mrs. Strong," concluded the big-hearted Englishman,as though the thing were all arranged except the sailing date.

  "Mercy, Lord Tennington, you haven't even given us an opportunity tothank you, much less decide whether we shall be able to accept yourgenerous invitation," said Mrs. Strong.

  "Why, of course you'll come," responded Tennington. "We'll make asgood time as any passenger boat, and you'll be fully as comfortable;and, anyway, we all want you, and won't take no for an answer."

  And so it was settled that they should sail the following Monday.

  Two days out the girls were sitting in Hazel's cabin, looking at someprints she had had finished in Cape Town. They represented all thepictures she had taken since she had left America, and the girls wereboth engrossed in them, Jane asking many questions, and Hazel keepingup a perfect torrent of com
ment and explanation of the various scenesand people.

  "And here," she said suddenly, "here's a man you know. Poor fellow, Ihave so often intended asking you about him, but I never have been ableto think of it when we were together." She was holding the little printso that Jane did not see the face of the man it portrayed.

  "His name was John Caldwell," continued Hazel. "Do you recall him? Hesaid that he met you in America. He is an Englishman."

  "I do not recollect the name," replied Jane. "Let me see the picture.""The poor fellow was lost overboard on our trip down the coast," shesaid, as she handed the print to Jane.

  "Lost over--Why, Hazel, Hazel--don't tell me that he is dead--drownedat sea! Hazel! Why don't you say that you are joking!" And before theastonished Miss Strong could catch her Jane Porter had slipped to thefloor in a swoon.

  After Hazel had restored her chum to consciousness she sat looking ather for a long time before either spoke.

  "I did not know, Jane," said Hazel, in a constrained voice, "that youknew Mr. Caldwell so intimately that his death could prove such a shockto you."

  "John Caldwell?" questioned Miss Porter. "You do not mean to tell methat you do not know who this man was, Hazel?"

  "Why, yes, Jane; I know perfectly well who he was--his name was JohnCaldwell; he was from London."

  "Oh, Hazel, I wish I could believe it," moaned the girl. "I wish Icould believe it, but those features are burned so deep into my memoryand my heart that I should recognize them anywhere in the world fromamong a thousand others, who might appear identical to any one but me."

  "What do you mean, Jane?" cried Hazel, now thoroughly alarmed. "Who doyou think it is?"

  "I don't think, Hazel. I know that that is a picture of Tarzan of theApes."

  "Jane!"

  "I cannot be mistaken. Oh, Hazel, are you sure that he is dead? Canthere be no mistake?"

  "I am afraid not, dear," answered Hazel sadly. "I wish I could thinkthat you are mistaken, but now a hundred and one little pieces ofcorroborative evidence occur to me that meant nothing to me while Ithought that he was John Caldwell, of London. He said that he had beenborn in Africa, and educated in France."

  "Yes, that would be true," murmured Jane Porter dully.

  "The first officer, who searched his luggage, found nothing to identifyJohn Caldwell, of London. Practically all his belongings had beenmade, or purchased, in Paris. Everything that bore an initial wasmarked either with a 'T' alone, or with 'J. C. T.' We thought that hewas traveling incognito under his first two names--the J. C. standingfor John Caldwell."

  "Tarzan of the Apes took the name Jean C. Tarzan," said Jane, in thesame lifeless monotone. "And he is dead! Oh! Hazel, it is horrible!He died all alone in this terrible ocean! It is unbelievable that thatbrave heart should have ceased to beat--that those mighty muscles arequiet and cold forever! That he who was the personification of lifeand health and manly strength should be the prey of slimy, crawlingthings, that--" But she could go no further, and with a little moanshe buried her head in her arms, and sank sobbing to the floor.

  For days Miss Porter was ill, and would see no one except Hazel and thefaithful Esmeralda. When at last she came on deck all were struck bythe sad change that had taken place in her. She was no longer thealert, vivacious American beauty who had charmed and delighted all whocame in contact with her. Instead she was a very quiet and sad littlegirl--with an expression of hopeless wistfulness that none but HazelStrong could interpret.

  The entire party strove their utmost to cheer and amuse her, but all tono avail. Occasionally the jolly Lord Tennington would wring a wansmile from her, but for the most part she sat with wide eyes lookingout across the sea.

  With Jane Porter's illness one misfortune after another seemed toattack the yacht. First an engine broke down, and they drifted for twodays while temporary repairs were being made. Then a squall struckthem unaware, that carried overboard nearly everything above deck thatwas portable. Later two of the seamen fell to fighting in theforecastle, with the result that one of them was badly wounded with aknife, and the other had to be put in irons. Then, to cap the climax,the mate fell overboard at night, and was drowned before help couldreach him. The yacht cruised about the spot for ten hours, but no signof the man was seen after he disappeared from the deck into the sea.

  Every member of the crew and guests was gloomy and depressed afterthese series of misfortunes. All were apprehensive of worse to come,and this was especially true of the seamen who recalled all sorts ofterrible omens and warnings that had occurred during the early part ofthe voyage, and which they could now clearly translate into theprecursors of some grim and terrible tragedy to come.

  Nor did the croakers have long to wait. The second night after thedrowning of the mate the little yacht was suddenly wracked from stem tostern. About one o'clock in the morning there was a terrific impactthat threw the slumbering guests and crew from berth and bunk. Amighty shudder ran through the frail craft; she lay far over tostarboard; the engines stopped. For a moment she hung there with herdecks at an angle of forty-five degrees--then, with a sullen, rendingsound, she slipped back into the sea and righted.

  Instantly the men rushed upon deck, followed closely by the women.Though the night was cloudy, there was little wind or sea, nor was itso dark but that just off the port bow a black mass could be discernedfloating low in the water.

  "A derelict," was the terse explanation of the officer of the watch.

  Presently the engineer hurried on deck in search of the captain.

  "That patch we put on the cylinder head's blown out, sir," he reported,"and she's makin' water fast for'ard on the port bow."

  An instant later a seaman rushed up from below.

  "My Gawd!" he cried. "Her whole bleedin' bottom's ripped out. Shecan't float twenty minutes."

  "Shut up!" roared Tennington. "Ladies, go below and get some of yourthings together. It may not be so bad as that, but we may have to taketo the boats. It will be safer to be prepared. Go at once, please.And, Captain Jerrold, send some competent man below, please, toascertain the exact extent of the damage. In the meantime I mightsuggest that you have the boats provisioned."

  The calm, low voice of the owner did much to reassure the entire party,and a moment later all were occupied with the duties he had suggested.By the time the ladies had returned to the deck the rapid provisioningof the boats had been about completed, and a moment later the officerwho had gone below had returned to report. But his opinion wasscarcely needed to assure the huddled group of men and women that theend of the LADY ALICE was at hand.

  "Well, sir?" said the captain, as his officer hesitated.

  "I dislike to frighten the ladies, sir," he said, "but she can't floata dozen minutes, in my opinion. There's a hole in her you could drivea bally cow through, sir."

  For five minutes the LADY ALICE had been settling rapidly by the bow.Already her stern loomed high in the air, and foothold on the deck wasof the most precarious nature. She carried four boats, and these wereall filled and lowered away in safety. As they pulled rapidly from thestricken little vessel Jane Porter turned to have one last look at her.Just then there came a loud crash and an ominous rumbling and poundingfrom the heart of the ship--her machinery had broken loose, and wasdashing its way toward the bow, tearing out partitions and bulkheads asit went--the stern rose rapidly high above them; for a moment sheseemed to pause there--a vertical shaft protruding from the bosom ofthe ocean, and then swiftly she dove headforemost beneath the waves.

  In one of the boats the brave Lord Tennington wiped a tear from hiseye--he had not seen a fortune in money go down forever into the sea,but a dear, beautiful friend whom he had loved.

  At last the long night broke, and a tropical sun smote down upon therolling water. Jane Porter had dropped into a fitful slumber--thefierce light of the sun upon her upturned face awoke her. She lookedabout her. In the boat with her were three sailors, Clayton, andMonsieur Thuran. Then she l
ooked for the other boats, but as far asthe eye could reach there was nothing to break the fearful monotony ofthat waste of waters--they were alone in a small boat upon the broadAtlantic.