The After House Read online

  CHAPTER V

  A TERRIBLE NIGHT

  With the disappearance of Schwartz, the Ella was short-handed: Ibelieve Captain Richardson made an attempt to secure me to take theplace of Burns, now moved up into Schwartz's position. But the attemptmet with a surly refusal from Turner.

  The crew was plainly nervous and irritable. Sailors are simple-mindedmen, as a rule; their mental processes are elemental. They began tomutter that the devil-ship of the Turner line was at her tricks again.

  That afternoon, going into the forecastle for some of my clothing, Ifound a curious group. Gathered about the table were Tom, the mulattocook, a Swede named Oleson, Adams, and Burns of the crew. At the headof the table Charlie Jones was reading the service for the burial ofthe dead at sea. The men were standing, bareheaded. I took off my capand stood, just inside the door, until the simple service was over. Iwas strongly moved.

  Schwartz disappeared in the early morning of August 9. And now I come,not without misgiving, to the night of August 12. I am wondering if,after all, I have made clear the picture that is before my eyes: thelanguid cruise, the slight relaxation of discipline, due to the leisureof a pleasure voyage, the Ella again rolling gently, with hardly a dashof spray to show that she was moving, the sun beating down on her whitedecks and white canvas, on the three women in summer attire, onunending-bridge, with its accompaniment of tall glasses filled withice, on Turner's morose face and Vail's watchful one. In theforecastle, much gossip and not a little fear, and in the forwardhouse, where Captain Richardson and Singleton had their quarters,veiled hostility and sullen silence.

  August 11 was Tuesday, a hot August day, with only enough air going tokeep our sails filled. At five o'clock I served afternoon tea, andshortly after I went to Williams's cabin in the forward house to dressthe wound in his head, a long cut, which was now healing. I passed thecaptain's cabin, and heard him quarreling with the first mate, who wasreplying, now and then, sullenly. Only the tones of their voicesreached me.

  When I had finished with Williams, and was returning, the quarrel wasstill going on. Their voices ceased as I passed the door, and therewas a crash, as of a chair violently overturned. The next bit I heard.

  "Put that down!" the captain roared.

  I listened, uncertain whether to break in or not. The next moment,Singleton opened the door and saw me. I went on as if I had heardnothing.

  Beyond that, the day was much as other days. Turner ate no dinner thatnight. He was pale, and twitching; even with my small experience, Iknew he was on the verge of delirium tremens. He did not play cards,and spent much of the evening wandering restlessly about on deck. Mrs.Turner retired early. Mrs. Johns played accompaniments for Vail tosing to, in the chart-room, until something after eleven, when they,too, went to their rooms.

  It being impracticable for me to go to my quarters in the storeroomuntil the after house was settled, I went up on deck. Miss Lee had herarm through Turner's and was talking to him. He seemed to be listeningto her; but at last he stopped and freed his arm, not ungently.

  "That all sounds very well, Elsa," he said, "but you don't know whatyou are talking about."

  "I know this."

  "I'm not a fool--or blind."

  He lurched down the companionway and into the cabin. I heard her drawa long breath; then she turned and saw me.

  "Is that you, Leslie?"

  "Yes, Miss Lee."

  She came toward me, the train of her soft white gown over her arm, andthe light from a lantern setting some jewels on her neck to glittering.

  "Mrs. Johns has told me where you are sleeping. You are very good todo it, although I think she is rather absurd."

  "I am glad to do anything I can."

  "I am sure of that. You are certain you are comfortable there?"

  "Perfectly."

  "Then--good-night. And thank you."

  Unexpectedly she put out her hand, and I took it. It was the firsttime I had touched her, and it went to my head. I bent over her slimcold fingers and kissed them. She drew her breath in sharply insurprise, but as I dropped her hand our eyes met.

  "You should not have done that," she said coolly. "I am sorry."

  She left me utterly wretched. What a boor she must have thought me, tomisconstrue her simple act of kindness! I loathed myself with a hatredthat sent me groveling to my blanket in the pantry, and that kept me,once there, awake through all the early part of the summer night.

  I wakened with a sense of oppression, of smothering heat. I hadstruggled slowly back to consciousness, to realize that the door of thepantry was closed, and that I was stewing in the moist heat of theAugust night. I got up, clad in my shirt and trousers, and felt my wayto the door.

  The storeroom and pantry of the after house had been built in duringthe rehabilitation of the boat, and consisted of a short passageway,with drawers for linens on either side, and beyond, lighted by aporthole, the small supply room in which I had been sleeping.

  Along this passageway; then, I groped my way to the door at the end,opening into the main cabin near the chart-room door and across fromMrs. Turner's room. This door I had been in the habit of leaving open,for two purposes--ventilation, and in case I might be, as Mrs. Johnshad feared, required in the night.

  The door was locked on the outside.

  I was a moment or two in grasping the fact. I shook it carefully tosee if it had merely caught, and then, incredulous, I put my weight toit. It refused to yield. The silence outside was absolute.

  I felt my way back to the window. It was open, but was barred withiron, and, even without that, too small for my shoulders. I listenedfor the mate. It was still dark, and so not yet time for the watch tochange. Singleton would be on duty, and he rarely came aft. There wasno sound of footsteps.

  I lit a match and examined the lock. It was a simple one, and as myidea now was to free myself without raising an alarm, I decided tounscrew it with my pocket-knife. I was still confused, but inclined toconsider my imprisonment a jest, perhaps on the part of Charlie Jones,who tempered his religious fervor with a fondness for practical joking.

  I accordingly knelt in front of the lock and opened my knife. I was indarkness and working by touch. I had extracted one screw, and, with agrowing sense of satisfaction, was putting it in my pocket beforeloosening a second, when a board on which I knelt moved under my knee,lifted, as if the other end, beyond the door, had been stepped on.There was no sound, no creak. Merely that ominous lifting under myknee. There was some one just beyond the door.

  A moment later the pressure was released. With a growing horror of Iknow not what, I set to work at the second screw, trying to benoiseless, but with hands shaking with excitement. The screw fell outinto my palm. In my haste I dropped my knife, and had to grope for iton the floor. It was then that a woman screamed--a low, sobbing cry,broken off almost before it began. I had got my knife by that time,and in desperation I threw myself against the door. It gave way, and Ifell full length on the main cabin floor. I was still in darkness.The silence in the cabin was absolute. I could hear the steersmanbeyond the chart-room scratching a match.

  As I got up, six bells struck. It was three o'clock.

  Vail's room was next to the pantry, and forward. I felt my way to it,and rapped.

  "Vail," I called. "Vail!"

  His door was open an inch or so. I went in and felt my way to hisbunk. I could hear him breathing, a stertorous respiration like thatof sleep, and yet unlike. The moment I touched him, the sound ceased,and did not commence again. I struck a match and bent over him.

  He had been almost cut to pieces with an axe.