The Perils of Pauline

by Lawrence Fletcher

  CHAPTER V

  THE PIRATE AND PAULINE

  A sort of false quiet, like the calm that broods between storms, keptall serene at the Marvin mansion for a week after the aeroplanecatastrophe. Little had been seen of Harry, who was busy withdirectors' meetings and visits to the factories. Owen had read withalarm of rumors that some one had tampered with a wire of the wreckedbiplane. But if the authorities were investigating he saw no signs ofit, and suspicion pointed no finger at him.

  What puzzled and worried Owen more than anything else was his own mindand behavior. Having no belief in the supernatural, he could notaccount for the dream which had thrown him into a criminal partnershipwith Hicks. Hicks had blackmailed him in the past, and there wasnobody he had feared and hated more than this vulgar and disreputablerace track man. Yet Hicks had appeared to him in a dream, and Owen hadpromptly done his bidding, involving himself in what would probablyturn out to be murder. The newspapers reported the French aviator asbarely living from day to day.

  Owen suffered the torment of a lost soul, but, at least he had no moredreams, or spectral visitations. Hicks called him on the telephoneonce or twice, but the secretary refused to talk.

  Pauline, too, had a busy week. Besides her usual social activities,she rewrote and finished her new story. It seemed to her even betterthan the one in the Cosmopolitan Magazine.

  "This will surely be taken," Pauline thought with a little sigh ofregret, "and that means the end of my year of adventures--"

  She had determined on this course the night after the accident. It wasafter midnight, and Pauline was trying to marshal the excitingrecollections of the day into the orderly mental procession that leadsto sleep. Very faintly she heard what sounded like the music of adistant mandolin. Pauline knew it was Harry, went to the open windowand looked down on the dark lawn. There he was playing with a bit ofstraw instead of a pick that his music might not disturb the sleepersin the house.

  Pauline wanted to throw her arms around him and promise not to causeany more worry. But she didn't, because she couldn't reach him fromthe window. After Harry had gone Pauline decided to finish her story,send it to a publisher and let his decision be hers.

  "If they accept it, you stay home and marry Harry," she told the prettyface under the filmy night cap which smiled at her from the mirror."But if they dare reject it, Harry will have to worry, dear boy thoughhe is."

  So Pauline lost no time in finishing and submitting her manuscript,inclosing a special delivery stamp and a request please to let her knowat once.

  On Saturday Pauline received a bulky letter in the morning's mail. Itwas her neatly typed manuscript and a short letter declining herstory. The editor thought it charming, showed wonderful imagination,gave great promise of future success, but there was a lack ofexperience evident throughout--a little unreal, he added. Heventured to suggest that the author would do well to travel around andsee the world from different angles. During the afternoon HarveySchieffelin dropped in for a call. He had found her story in theCosmopolitan and complimented her then he began to laugh.

  "Polly, that's a bully story of yours, but you ought to have gone downand watched some stokers do work before you described that scene."

  "What was wrong in my description?" demanded the young authoress.

  "Well, you told of a stoker laying his grimy hand on the fire door andpulling it open to rake the fire."

  "Well, couldn't he do that?"

  "Oh, yes," laughed Harvey, "he could, but he wouldn't do it more thanonce. Those doors are almost red hot and would bum the flesh off thestoker's hand, whether it were grimy or not. I'll show you on my yachtsome time. What you need is--?"

  "Harvey, don't you dare tell me I need experience," interrupted Paulinewith unexpected heat. Young Schieffelin saw that tears were almost inher eyes.

  "Well," thought Schieffelin, "this vein leads too close to water," andhe hurried to shift the course of the conversation.

  But the damage was done. Pauline took her story to the little openfireplace in her room and destroyed it. At the same time shedestroyed, her resolution to give up the year of adventure. Therecould be no question, she needed experience. Her adopted father hadadmitted it, the editor had said it, and even an empty-headed young manlike Schieffelin could see it. She was sorry for Harry, but itcouldn't be helped. She picked up a copy of "Treasure Island" and soonwished fervently that the days of pirates were back again.

  Owen gave up his fight against morphine late Friday night. Saturday hewas at peace with the world. Gone were all the nerve clamorings andwith them went his scruples. All day he kept a furtive watch uponPauline, and even heard her envious remarks about pirates to Harry whenhe returned for a weekend at home. Owen sympathized with Pauline inher regret that pirates were extinct. A pirate would have been veryuseful to the secretary just then.

  However, there were other cut-throats, plenty of them, and perhaps someother kind would do. There were gunmen, for instance, but, an honestDistrict Attorney had lately made these murderous gentlemen of theunderworld almost as quiet as pirates. He was still pondering whenHicks called again on the telephone. This time the secretary respondedand made an immediate appointment in a cafe near Forty-second street.

  Owen related the events of the week, ending with Pauline's hankeringfor pirates. The two men got their heads together and rapidly evolveda plan.

  From the cafe they took a taxi and rode along the water front, first onone side of the island of Manhattan and then on the other. The cabstopped near the worst-looking saloons, while the two schemers enteredand looked over the sailors and longshoremen refreshing themselves atthe bars. After covering several miles of water front they hadcollected as many as a dozen abominable barroom cigars and a fewequally dubious drinks, but had not yet found what they were lookingfor.

  On Front Street they saw a man, and both cried out:

  "Look, there he is."

  The man was a wild-looking specimen. He had the rolling gait of thedeep sea. A squinting eye gave him a villainous leer, while a bristlybeard and long gray hair made him a ferocious spectacle. His age wasdoubtful, as the lines in his ruddy skin might have been cut bydissipation as much as age. The most prominent feature of his unlovelycountenance was a nose, fiery red from prolonged exposure to sunburn,or rum-bum.

  "If he isn't a pirate he ought to be one," said Owen.

  The man carried the top of a ship's binnacle, as the round brass casewhich holds a ship's compass is called. He entered the dismal portalof a marine junk shop. The taxi was stopped discreetly a block away.As Owen and Hicks approached the shop they heard a loud argument goingon inside.

  "How much do you want for it?"

  "Ten dollars. It's a brand-new Negus."

  "Ten nothing. You stole it, you son of a sea cook. I'll give you adime for it."

  "I did not steal it, so help me ---- ------! The captain of that'lime juicer' over in the North River gave it to me for saving hislittle gal's life. He begged me to take anything I wanted, but Ifancied this. I'll tell you about it."

  Then Owen and Hicks, listening just outside, heard a fearful andwonderful tale. To relate it in the sailor's own words, stripped ofthe long deep-sea oaths, would be as impossible as to pick the greenspecks out of a sage cheese.

  In brief, the gentleman with the binnacle, sauntering innocently alongthe docks Friday night, had heard a commotion on the British trampwhich he referred to as a "lime juicer." Some fifteen or morelong-shoremen had invaded the ship, overcome the captain, tied him downand were about to kidnap his daughter. The teller of the story hadwalked in and thrashed them all single-handed, driven them off into thedarkness, rescued the little girl and released the captain. Ingratitude the commander had made him a present of the binnacle head.

  At the conclusion of the story there was a pause, then the other voiceanswered:

  "You're a wonder. As I said before, I'll give you ten cents for thebinnacle and ninety cents for the story. Now you
can take it or I'llhave you pinched for swiping it."

  "Gimme the dollar," said the hero of the tale, and a moment later hepassed down the street with the two eavesdroppers at his heels.

  The sailor man, proceeding at a rapid pace, suddenly turned a comerlike a yacht jibing around a buoy and plunged into a dingy saloon.Owen and Hicks went in after him.

  Owen ordered and invited the sailor to join them. They learned thathis name was Nelson Cromwell Boyd, that he had deserted from theBritish navy at a tender age, and since then had been through a seriesof incredible adventures and injustices, which disproved the old adagethat you can't keep a good man down.

  At last Owen intimated that he had a business proposition to discuss,and they adjourned to the sidewalk.

  "Do you want to earn some money?" asked Hicks.

  "Well, that depends," said Boyd, doubtfully.

  "Easy money," suggested Owen.

  "That's the only kind worth going after," commented the sailor.

  "That's where we agree with you, my friend," said Hicks. "We are aftereasy money and plenty of it. Plenty for us and plenty for you, too, ifyou can keep quiet about it."

  "That's the kind of talk I like to hear. But as honest man to honestman, I want to warn you that there mustn't be too much work to it. Idon't believe in the nobility of labor. I believe that work is thecrowning shame and humiliation of the human race. It's all right for ahorse or a dog or an ox to work, but a man ought to be above it. It'sdegrading, interferes with his pleasures and wastes his time."

  "I feel the same way," agreed Owen, "but somebody has got to work tomake shoes and food for us."

  "Yes," admitted the sailor, "regretfully there will always have to besome work done, and I'm sorry for the poor guys that must do it. Butthere's been too much work done."

  "Those sentiments are very noble," said Owen.

  "It's all very fine to worry about your fellow man. But you would liketo have plenty of money even if the rest of the world is fool enoughto keep on working."

  "I suppose so," said the sailor, "but I'm a reformer and my business isto talk, not work."

  "That's just what we want you to do," said Owen and Hicks in answer.

  Then they found a table in the rear of a saloon where they could unfoldtheir plan.

  Boyd was to be introduced to a foolish young girl who had a barrel ofmoney. He was to tell her a deep-sea yam along certain lines, and Owenand Hicks would take care of the rest.

  "The question is," said Owen, "whether you can talk and act like a sortof reformed pirate."

  "Leave that to me," he assured them, and led the way out of the saloonand into still another grimy and disreputable place. It was AxelOlofsen's pawnshop and second-hand general supply and clothing store.

  After much pawing over ancient, worn and rusty weapons, Boyd was atlast fitted out. Ole was paid about sixty per cent of what he askedand left to the enjoyment of his Scandinavian melancholy.

  "You look like a pirate now, sure enough," said Owen, observing Boyd'seffect on the driver of the taxicab.

  "I look it, but I don't quite feel it yet," said Boyd, with deepmeaning. "There is something lacking."

  "What can it be?" asked Hicks.

  "About three fingers of red-eye," the sailor explained, pointing to asaloon. "That will make my disguise just perfect."

  In the saloon Hicks and Owen made a little map, wrinkled it and soiledit on the floor, then gave it to the pirate.

  "Tell her," said Owen as he called for a taxi, "that it is only a copyof your original, which is all worn out."

  The nearer they approached to the house the more talkative became the"pirate." He demanded to know more details of what was to be done, andfinally assumed an air of authority.

  "You say that rich girl is crazy to see something worth writin' about?Now, I know something better than pirates and buried treasure," shoutedthe pirate confidently.

  "Yes, no doubt," Owen replied soothingly and with some alarm at theman's bravado. "But it's pirates she is interested in just now."

  "Never mind, I say I know something better," insisted the pirate."If she will go and do what I'm goin' ter tell yer she'll sure seesomething like she never dreamed of. Now listen to me sharp!"

  It was an extraordinary proposition the "pirate" made.

  Owen laughed a gentle discouragement and shook his head, but Hicksfixed his eyes keenly on the man and was evidently turning thesuggestion over in his mind.

  Owen's key admitted the three to the front hall without ringing, but amaid happened to cross the hall and caught sight of Boyd. With ascream and a flutter she retreated. Owen seated his two confederatesin the hall and went in search of Pauline.

  Owen found Pauline alone in the library. Never did a villain propose ascheme to a beautiful girl at a more favorable moment. Half theafternoon and a little while after dinner she had been absorbing"Treasure Island," and now came Owen asking her if she would like tomeet a reformed pirate and go on a thrilling and adventurousexpedition.

  "Owen, you are a perfect angel. Bring in your pirate. I'm sorry,though, that he has reformed."

  Pauline shook hands with Hicks, but hardly noticed him. She had eyesonly for the "pirate," who impressed her mightily. With awe andadmiration she saw his scowling and squinting eye run over her and thentravel about the room. Pauline approved of the "pirate," but the"pirate" did not approve of Pauline, and he almost told her so.

  But he met the warning eyes of his confederates and restrainedhimself. He had his story to tell and he would do it. After all, thatwas the best way to attack this girl and her fortune.

  "Tell us about the treasure," said Pauline eagerly.

  "Hush!" he shouted in a voice that made the girl jump.

  "I'll tell you, but, by the blood of Morgan, if one of you ever tells aliving soul I'll cut his liver out," said the "pirate." Paulinegasped, and the secretary told him that it wasn't considered goodmanners to point with a sharp knife. But they all swore to secrecy andthe "pirate" proceeded:

  "I was but a slip of a lad when I ran away and sailed from Liverpool inthe good brig Nancy Lee with as villainous a crew as I ever seen.Where we was bound for and why is none of your business. Them thatplanned that voyage has cashed in their souls to their Maker and--ah,well, as I was saying, they was a villainous crew, low and vile andbloody-minded. I was the cabin boy and slept on the transoms in thecaptain's cabin. The weather was awful and the grub was worse.

  "But all went well till we reached the roarin' forties. The skipperknew how to handle sailors, you bet he did. When they came aft to kickabout the grub he knocked 'em down before they said two words."

  Pauline gave a little exclamation of dismay at this point and the"pirate" turned to her in explanation:

  "You see, knockin' 'em down quick like that avoids a lot of cross wordsand unpleasant arguments such as makes hard feelin's on long voyages.

  "Yes, as I was saying', all went well until the second mate got toknockin' 'em out with his left hand, which the same was all right, too,but he was heard to pass a remark one day that he only hit landlubberswith his left hand.

  "The crew they was insulted, and that very night the second mate wentoverboard. Who done it nobody knows, leastways the captain couldn'tfind out. It made the old man peevish like and he got to arguin' withthem sailors instead of wallopin' 'em the way he oughter done, and oneday they turned on him.

  "It was all over in a minute. They had the old man thrown and tied.The first mate came runnin'in, firin' his pistols, but they downed him,too. I took the wheel while they decided what to do. 'Bloody Mike,'their leader, had about persuaded the men to send the captain and mateto Davy Jones's locker and the carpenter was riggin' the plank for 'emto walk when I up and puts in a word.

  "I pleaded for their lives and, though Mike was dead agin' the idea,they voted to let them live. The last we saw of 'em they was driftin'off in the jolly boat with a jug of water and a loaf of bread."

  The mariner paused an
d Pauline suggested delightedly:

  "And as soon as they had cooled down they were grateful to you and madeyou their leader?"

  "They did not," answered the "pirate." "They broached a cask of rum inthe forward hold, and I overheard 'em plotting to throw me to thesharks."

  "How awful," said Pauline.

  "Yes, miss," agreed the "pirate." It was awkward and embarrassing likefor a mere slip of a lad. So I up and goes into the captain's cabin andgets all the pistols and knives and cutlasses there was and brings 'emout on deck.

  "Pretty soon them drunken devils come a-tumblin' out of the fore hatch,picks up half a dozen capstan bars and some belyin' pins and a marlinspike or two and runs aft a-hollerin' and yellin'. I gives 'em onewarnin' and then fires."

  The "pirate" stopped, coughed and looked around.

  "Oh, please go on," begged Pauline.

  "Yes, miss," replied the sailor, "but this talking affects my throat.Could you possibly--?"

  "Why, certainly," interrupted Owen, "I'll get you a drink."

  After the sailor had swallowed the biggest drink ever poured out inthat house he continued:

  "Yes, that was as neat a fight as I ever was in. There was some twentyof 'em all told."

  "And what happened then?" demanded Pauline.

  "Well, Miss, it come on to blow, and there was the old ship staggerin'along under full sail. It was all I could do to keep the old hulk fromfoundering', at that, but I stuck to the wheel day after day and nightafter night. To keep from freezin' I had to drink a lot of grog. Oh,a powerful lot of grog. So much grog that I've been dependent on itever since--and I'll take a little now, if it's agreeable." Itwasn't exactly agreeable, but he got it and continued. "Finally wefetched up, ker-smack, on the rocks of a desert island. All the boatshad been smashed and carried away by the storm, so I had to build araft. The first two loads was all provisions, and then I took thetreasure ashore--"

  "What treasure?" asked Pauline.

  "Oh, bless your heart, didn't I tell you about the treasure?"

  "No," said Hicks, with a scowl, "and that's the part we want to hearabout."

  "Oh, money ain't everything," rebuked the "pirate" in a lordly manner."There was a matter of a million dollars or so in good British gold,and what it was on the 'Nancy Lee' for is nobody's business. I tookit all ashore, an' buried it on the island. Here's a copy of the chartI made, and you three is the first to lay human eyes on it."

  While Pauline examined reverently the dingy bit of paper the "pirate"concluded his yarn.

  "After I'd buried the last f it, I rigged a mast on the raft andfetched up on one of the Bahamas."

  "And you have never been back to get the gold?" queried Pauline.

  "No, miss; though I've started many's the time. But a poor seafarin'man like me finds it hard to fit out a proper expedition. If you fancythe notion and want to go along with me and pay all the expenses I'lldivvy up half and half with you. What do you say?"

  Pauline looked at Owen and Hicks, who nodded approvingly. She had nogreat faith in finding any gold. Old Mr. Marvin had said that treasurebunts rarely produce any results. But he had also remarked that theywere very thrilling, and here, surely, was adventure well worth alittle time and money. Pauline agreed, and the "pirate" was in themidst of imposing a blood-curdling oath of secrecy when Harry demandedadmittance.

  Nobody, least of all the sailor, would tell him what was in the wind,except that they were going off on a trip of adventure. The young mandisapproved of both Hicks and the "pirate," and the latter showed hisdislike of Harry. It was with regret that the man of the searecollected Owen's stipulation that Harry must on no account be allowedto go with the party. Nothing would have pleased the "pirate" betterthan to have got these two happy and innocent representatives of"ill-gotten gains" alone with him on the high seas. Pauline, too,wished to have Harry who was frowning and suspiciously demandinginformation. But she had sworn the oath of a buccaneer, and far be itfrom her to break faith with the confiding freebooter.

  So, once more Harry was kept out of Pauline's councils. He was alittle provoked at her this time, for her willfulness seemed almostperverse after the lesson she should have learned from the aeroplanewreck.