Don Winslow of the Navy

by Frank V. Martinek

  VI

  MURDER BELOW DECKS

  One mystery had been solved, but it had given rise to a more sinisterproblem. Michael Splendor was the one who pointed this out, as DonWinslow and his friends sat that evening at the officers' mess.

  How, he asked, could the thief have known Don was making a search of theenlistment records?

  There were various answers offered on the spur of the moment. MercedesColby suggested that Don and the captain had been overheard talkingabout it on their way to the cabin; but that point was quickly settled.Neither man had mentioned it before reaching Riggs' cabin.

  Red's answer was that the thief had happened to see Don through the opendoor, as he sat at the captain's table. This sounded reasonable, untilMichael Splendor told them he had tried looking through the door. Fromoutside the cabin, he stated, neither table nor record file could beseen.

  "The conclusion is, me friends," he said with a troubled frown, "thatthe man who struck down Commander Winslow knew in advance what he wasgoing to do, and why. He had time to plan the job, and wait for hischance to catch his victim alone. _He knew the_ _very moment we decidedto search those records for a clue!_"

  In the shocked silence which followed Splendor's words, Riggs pushedback his chair. The captain's face had the look of a man just chargedwith murder.

  "In other words, you accuse me, Mr. Splendor!" he said hoarsely, risingto his feet. "By George, sir! If you were not a cripple, I would...."

  "Please, Captain Riggs!" the voice of Michael Splendor rang sharp as atrumpet call. "I am accusing no one of us--least of all yourself. Now,look me in the eye and smile, me friend; for in faith I would sooneraccuse meself than anyone in this cabin!"

  Slowly the color came back into Captain Riggs' cheeks. Sinking back intohis chair at the head of the table, he did his best to smile, though itwas a hard attempt.

  "I believe you, Mr. Splendor!" he said huskily. "But the way you put theevidence gave me an ugly start, sir. It seemed to point to me alone asthe attacker, or at least as the one person whose whereabouts wereunaccounted for at the time of the attack on Winslow."

  "Indeed it did, Captain," admitted the man in the wheel chair,apologetically, "and sorry I am for not choosing me words morecarefully! I was just tryin' to show all of ye how closely we are beingspied upon. I meself could have sworn that no one was in earshot of ourparty this afternoon. Yet our every speech was heard and noted by theenemy. Our future plans must be told in whispers behind locked doors, Ifancy."

  Throughout the rest of the meal there was a lively argument aboutdictaphones and other means of eavesdropping which the spy might haveused. It all proved highly amusing to the Scorpion spy, who waslistening in on every word, by the aid of a clever electrical "ear."

  Small and easily concealed as a man's wrist watch, the device was apowerful amplifier of ordinary sounds. These were transmitted overthreadlike wires to an earphone, palmed in the spy's hand.

  Turned toward a ship's ventilator or porthole, or toward a partyconversing on deck, the mechanical "ear" could pick up even whisperedspeech without the slightest difficulty.

  But while this comparatively harmless eavesdropping was in progress, afar more sinister drama was being enacted below decks. It was the old,old game of death, which has been played since life began upon theearth, and the first killer stalked his unsuspecting prey.

  Deep in the bowels of the ship, amid the click and whir of oiledmachinery, Chief Petty Officer Ahern began his evening watch. He was aman of about thirty years, with a well-muscled body, and keen, blueIrish eyes. In six years he had risen from Fireman Second Class to ChiefMachinist's Mate.

  At the moment, Ahern was the only man in the engine room of the_Gatoon_. Lieutenant Allen, the Engineer Officer, was in his ownstateroom, cleaning up for the evening meal. The other Machinist's Mateswere off watch. The nearest members of the "black gang" were sweating inthe boiler room, forward.

  Ahern was whistling an old Irish ditty as he moved about, checking thesmoothly running machinery. Thought of danger was the farthest thingfrom his mind as he paused to glance up at the stars shining through thefiddley hatch above his head.

  All at once his body stiffened as if in agony. His hands clawed at histhroat. Mouth open and eyes popping from their sockets, he reeledbackward in a grotesque dance of death.

  As he fell, struggling, to the iron deck, a man in ordinary seaman'suniform dodged past him toward the main steam line. There was a quicksharp hammering; a hiss of escaping steam. Then the seaman reappeared,his features covered by a white handkerchief.

  Briefly he stooped over Ahern's limp body, fumbling at the swollen,purple neck. The next moment, swift as a startled rat, he slipped out ofsight behind a bulkhead.

  Five minutes later, Lieutenant Allen came on deck for a breath of airbefore going to mess. Glancing toward the fiddley hatch, he noticed awisp of steamy vapor rising from it. In alarm he sprang forward to lookbelow. The heavy reek of hot engine oil met his nostrils as he bent overthe hatch. The hum and clink of smoothly moving metal rose with it toreassure him. Only the steamy mist between decks, and a slowing of theengine's rhythmic beat spelled danger to the officer.

  Turning to the engine room ladder, Lieutenant Allen made the lower deckin record time. Through a mist of steam, he made out the body of theChief Machinist's Mate. Pausing beside it only long enough to read thesigns of death, he pressed on as far as he dared toward the broken steamline.

  Up on the _Gatoon's_ bridge, Lieutenant Darnley caught the engine room'surgent signal. Picking up the speaking tube, he barked a shortacknowledgement.

  "Allen speaking," came the terse reply. "Inform Captain Riggs of attemptto sabotage the ship's engines. Chief Machinist's Mate Ahern is dead athis post. Must stop engines and pull boiler fires at once."

  The meal was just over in the officers' mess. With a low exclamation DonWinslow jumped up and stepped to the nearest porthole.

  "If I'm not mistaken, Captain," he said, turning to face the others,"this ship is losing way. The engines, ... hear that, sir? The vibrationhas stopped completely!"

  Captain Riggs sprang to his feet, scowling.

  "You're right, Commander!" he cried. "We'll be losing steerage way in afew moments. I'll ring the bridge and find out...."

  A heavy knocking on the cabin door interrupted. Opening it, the captainfaced a breathless yeoman, whose message of disaster fairly tumbled fromhis lips.

  "Trouble with the main steam line, sir!" the enlisted man reported. "Andthe Chief Machinist's Mate has met with an accident, too. LieutenantAllen requests your presence at once in the engine room!"