The Merry Anne 23

The Merry Anne 23

"Where's your man Harper?"

 

"Pink," called Dick. "Pink, come up here."

 

In a moment the sleepy mate appeared.

 

"Harper," said Beveridge, "get an axe. Be quick about it."

 

Pink looked at Dick, who said, "Go ahead. Do whatever he tells you."

 

The axe was brought and handed to Beveridge.

 

"Now, Smiley, you and your man go below, please."

 

"Below?"

 

"To the hold. I 'll follow."

 

"Pink," said Dick, "get a lantern."

 

They had to wait a minute, while Pink was lighting the lantern. There

they stood, without speaking, each watching the other. Finally Pink

led the way to the open hatch, and descended the ladder. Dick followed.

Beveridge led Annie to the opening. "Wait," he said; "I 'll go first, and

help you down."

 

Dick, standing below on the timbers, looked up like a flash. "I wouldn't

try to bring her down here if I were you."

 

"I'm not talking to you, Smiley."

 

"No, but you will be if you bully her much longer. Just try to make her

go down that ladder. Try it!"

 

Beveridge, without heeding, turned to Annie.

 

When he turned back, Dick, with itching fingers, stood on the deck

beside him.

 

"What are you doing here? Didn't I tell you to go below?"

 

"Annie," said Dick, "just say the word--just look at me--if you

want--look here, Mister Beveridge, I don't know much about law, but it

seems to me you haven't shown me any papers, and, until you do, you can

have your choice of letting go of her hand or losing your front teeth.

Just whichever you like."

 

 

But Beveridge did neither. "No, Smiley," said he, "we won't get into

that sort o' talk." After which remark, he stooped over and looked down

at Pink and his lantern, and at the timbers on which Pink was standing.

"I guess maybe you can see without going down, Annie. Sit down here, and

watch what I do. Go ahead, Smiley."

 

[Illustration: 0219]

 

Dick again descended the ladder, and the special agent followed, axe in

hand. Annie, with horrified eyes, sat limp against the hatch and took in

every motion in that dimly lighted group below. She saw Dick and Harper

stand aside; she saw Beveridge raise the axe a little way and bring it

down sharply on the end of a stick of timber,--an end that was marked

with a circular groove; she saw the timber split open, and a plug fall

out; she saw Beveridge stoop and dip his fingers in a brown liquid that

was flowing from some sort of a broken receptacle; she smelled whiskey.

She was confused, she had only a half understanding of what it meant,

but she shivered as if a cold wind were blowing upon her; and when they

had all three mounted to the deck and were standing about her, she was

still sitting there, holding to something, she knew not what, and gazing

with fascinated eyes into the square black hole,--blacker than at first,

now that Harper was holding the lantern before her on the deck. But she

knew when Beveridge stepped forward to help her up, only to be brushed

aside by Dick, who raised her gently, with a low exclamation of pity,

and helped her across the deck.

 

The three men gathered about her at the rail.

 

"Before we go any farther," said the agent, in a conversational tone,

"will you men walk into Cap'n Fargo's house with me and sit down while

we talk this over a little? If you say you will, I'm willing to take

your word. But if not, I have men on the pier and on the bank that might

help you to make up your minds."

 

"That's not necessary. We 'll go with you. Just a step up, Annie. Put

your hand on my shoulder."

 

"All right, Mister Smiley. Come, Harper." In passing his assistant,

Beveridge paused to whisper: "I 'll be at the house. See that McGlory

doesn't try to get ashore. If he gives you any trouble, whistle."

 

A few moments more, and they were seated around Mrs. Fargo's dining

table, Beveridge, Dick, Pink Harper, and the old fisherman. Annie was

shut in her room, refusing admittance even to her mother.

 

"There's one question that comes up right here, Mr. Smiley," began

Beveridge, "before we go any farther. Is this man Harper one of your

accomplices?"

 

"What do you mean by that?"

 

"Don't take my time by evasions. You have given me trouble enough

now. If you will tell me he has had little or nothing to do with this

business, and if he can give a good account of himself, I 'll let him go.

What do you say?"

 

"Will you tell me what you mean?"

 

"That's enough. I won't waste any more time on it. We 'll hold him.

Cap'n," turning to Fargo, "there's one thing--I guess you can understand

my position--I shall have to call on Annie for a witness, a little

later."

 

Here Dick broke out. "So that's why you dragged her into this, is it?"

 

"Be careful what you say, Mr. Smiley." Dick looked hard at him, then

glanced around the group, then settled back in his chair. After a short

silence, Captain Fargo spoke.

 

"This isn't all settled, is it, Mr. Beveridge? Dick hasn't told you that

what you thought was so?"

 

"It was hardly necessary. I found the proofs right there on his

schooner."

 

"Is that right, Dick?"

 

"It seems to be."

 

"You don't mean to say right out that you're a smuggler, Dick?"

 

"No, I'm not."

 

Captain Fargo was puzzled. He looked from one to the other of the two

men, until Beveridge, with an air of settling the matter, rose. "You'd

better not throw away any sympathy there, Cap'n. You can be thankful

to find out in time that he's a bad one. I'm only sorry to have to draw

your family into it. I tried hard enough not to."

 

"Yes, I know that."

 

There was a shout outside, a noise on the steps, and a hammering on the

door. Then before the fisherman could get out of his chair, the outer

door burst open, and down the hall and into the dining room came Wilson,

breathless, his hat still on his head.

 

"Well, Bert--"

 

"He's skipped!"

 

"McGlory? What were you thinking of? Where'd he go?" Beveridge was on

his feet.

 

"No use, Bill; sit down. It 'll take a steamer to catch him."

 

"You didn't stand there and let him sail off."

 

"Wait 'll I tell you. I was back a little way, where the pier narrows,

so's he couldn't slip by through the lumber. The schooner he was on,

the--the--"

 

"_Schmidt_," put in Pink.

 

"The _Schmidt_ was on the south side, the--the--"

 

"_Merry Anne_" said Pink, "--was on the north. There's a south wind, you

see. And the first thing I knew I heard the tackle creaking off to the

left. Thinks I, that's from the _Merry Anne_, only there ain't a soul

aboard her. I ran out and looked, and sure enough, there she was, with

two or three men hauling away on the sails."

 

"And you didn't stop 'em?"

 

"How could I, Bill? You see, they'd cut the ropes and let her drift off

down the wind. She was a hundred feet out before they made a move."

 

"But what were they doing on the _Merry Anne?_"

 

"Don't you see?" said Pink; "she can beat the old _Schmidt_ hands down."

 

"They'd sneaked across out by the end," added Wilson, "while I was

nearer shore." Beveridge sat down again, and tapped the table nervously

as his eyes shifted from one to another of the faces before him. "How're

they sailing, Bert?"

 

"Right off north."

 

"Before the wind?"

 

"Yes, sure," said Pink; "how could they help it with a south wind?"

 

"Smiley,"--Beveridge had turned on Dick, and was speaking in a keen,

hard voice,--"where are they going?"

 

"I couldn't tell you."

 

"Think a little. Your memory's poor, maybe."

 

But Dick was stubborn. Pink, however, was struck by a flash of intelligence. "I 'll bet I know."