“And yet he was not a man devoid of the common humanities, for hard as he was upon Smith, he was kindness itself to me, giving me a berth on the chart-room table and inviting me to feed in his cabin.
“Well—the mist cleared a good deal during the day, and when the sun blazed out, I could see through his spy-glass every detail of our camp, and I watched it zealously all day. But there was no sign of life.
“When I had told the details of the venture over and over again the Captain’s rage against Smith increased.
“ ‘I’ll spike that fellow’s guns for him, anyway,’ he said. I didn’t quite see how, any more than I understood why he should break his vow and send another boat-load of his men ashore. I discovered later that they went to bring the chests of drink aboard. ‘No more drink for Smith,’ he said. At sunset we fired another gun. But no sign from the camp. Just as we were finishing dinner, the Quartermaster came to the Captain’s cabin and reported that a boat was being paddled towards the ship.
“We went on deck. It was now dark, but sure enough I could see a canoe in the glare of the searchlight. As it got near ship I could recognize the navigator as Juliet’s husband, my Spanish friend.
“What at first I took to be another person in the stern, only proved to be a large sack, and I realized that my specimens had been procured. Captain Harker agreed for my sake to have them taken aboard, on the understanding that I did not open the sack or speak of it before the men.
“ ‘For I don’t approve of this official skull running,’ he said. ‘But I certainly agree that you, Mr. Hogarth, have suffered too much at the hands of the Museum authorities for me to let you go back a failure. Take the Quartermaster into your confidence. You can rely on him. He will smuggle away your precious relics. But the less I know about them, the better my conscience will be pleased.’
“Accordingly, I explained the whole situation to the Quartermaster, and handed him six pounds for the purchase, which he manipulated alongside. I had told him to count the specimens by sense of touch and not to open the sack, explaining that this would be in accordance with my bargain with his captain. ‘You needn’t object if the dozen is a bit short,’ I said.
“ ‘I’m shippin’ ’em as fresh loaves of bread for the Cap’n’s table, sir,’ he answered with a respectful wink. ‘When I buys bread I don’t pay for short weight. No more will you, sir. Specially with a dago of a Fuegian Spaniard. What a mixture, sir.’
“That was the Quartermaster. He was tough but he had a sense of humour.
“I watched him jump nimbly into the canoe and he began feeling the skulls through the sacking. I heard him counting aloud.
“ ‘Thirteen?’ he queried. ‘Good man. You’ve made it a baker’s dozen, have you?’
“The Spaniard guessed what he meant and I heard him answer in Spanish, ‘Ah, yes, señor—one more—for luck.’
“I called out in Spanish, ordering him to find Captain Smith and to see that he was aboard by sunrise, but Captain Harker took me by the arm and led me to his cabin, telling me to leave things to the Quartermaster in order not to attract too much attention.
“So we settled down to our coffee and cigars.
“Presently I noticed that the Quartermaster was trying to catch my eye through the open door. He was standing outside on the deck, but out of the Captain’s eye-line.
“I made some excuse and joined him.
“ ‘I’ve got ’em stowed below in my cabin, sir,’ he said. ‘But if you’ve no objection, I should like to take ’em out of that sack. The carpenter’s fixin’ me up a tin-lined box. Also, sir, I understood you to say as how you was after ancient skulls, and if so, I has a suspicion that that there dago has gone and done the dirty on you.’
“We reached his cabin. ‘Let me go in first, sir, and if you don’t mind we’ll fasten the door before turnin’ on the lights. Only mind how you go, sir as I’ve a barrel of quick-lime, which ain’t healthy stuff to get on your shore-goin’ togs. Now, sir,’ he went on, ‘I’ll turn on the lights.’ He did so and he was looking straight at me with a very serious expression. ‘I didn’t like the feel of them skulls when I counted ’em in that canoe, and now that I’ve got ’em here, I don’t like the look of that red stain on the sack: so, if you’ve no objection, we’ll turn ’em out on the floor, and have a look at ’em.’ He cut the cord at the sack’s mouth and, to my unspeakable horror, upset on to the cabin floor a heap of newly severed heads. Yes—freshly killed. Flesh and hair complete. I know I turned sick with the shock. But the Quartermaster appeared utterly unmoved. He went on calmly, ‘This ain’t no time to be squeamish, sir. It ain’t our funeral, thank God, but theirs. You wants skulls—not heads—and you’re goin’ to have what you wants—skulls.’
“Whereupon he began lifting them one by one, and lowering them by their long hair into the lime barrel.
“We were now rolling a good deal, which kept the heads in motion upon the floor. They looked horribly life-like. The deck of the neat cabin was now becoming unpleasantly slippery, when one of them slithered with the ship’s roll, and bumped against my foot. I looked down and—oh, God—I met the glassy stare of Captain Smith!
“I looked at the others, and there sure enough, on the floor, rolling about with the few that were left, waiting their turn at the lime-barrel, was the face of the hideous love-sick Romeo.
“ ‘That was our servant,’ I gasped as the Quartermaster put it into the quick-lime.
“He then lifted the head that was wedged against my boot. He held it by the strong red beard, because the hair of the Captain’s head was cropped.
“ ‘Don’t put that in,’ I shuddered. ‘It’s the head of the white man we are waiting ship for.’
“The Quartermaster didn’t turn a hair. ‘He ain’t eligible, then, for the Museum. We’ll give him a separate burial.’ He climbed on to his bunk, unscrewed the port-hole, and thrust the great head of Hans Ackstart, alias Captain Smith, out into the night of spray, wind and waves.
“ ‘When them in the barrel are done to a turn,’ he went on, ‘which in this case is lookin’ sufficiently ancient, I’ll fish ’em out and pack ’em. You’ve nothin’ to worry about, sir.’ He then put a lid over the lime barrel. ‘I’ll just swab up a bit, sir, for I likes a clean and tidy cabin, and then take you back to the bridge. The old man will be up there now, sir, and a bit of a blow will do you good. But I was forgettin’ something—most important. Here you are, sir. I owe you this,’ and he handed me a five-pound note. I looked puzzled, but he explained. ‘Your change, sir.’
“ ‘Change?’ I queried.
“ ‘Yes, sir. You see, sir, I only give the dago a quid, and I thought that was overdoin’ it. But seein’ as how it were twelve murders, I don’t think one and eight a go will break you. I says twelve and not thirteen, sir, because I’m a very nervous bloke when it comes to thirteen anything. Judas money, I thinks, and so never calculates in thirteens. Rather lose, I would. And it might be as well, sir,’ he added in a confidential tone, when I had refused the change, and he had pocketed it, ‘not to mention any of this head business to the Captain. Keep ’em skulls, sir, if you must talk of it. I ain’t at all sure that he might not class this business as amongst the many things which accordin’ to his way of looking, lowers the white man’s preesteege. He’s potty on that, sir. We all has our red rags. Preesteege is his.’
“The next morning I was awakened from sleep by the shaking of gun-fire. I pulled on my overcoat and went on deck.
“ ‘Did it wake you up, Mr. Hogarth?’ laughed one of the officers just relieved from the bridge who was drinking coffee outside the galley. ‘They’ve been warning your friend to come aboard with live-shot. The old man wanted that flagpole down. Said it attracted too much attention, and would delay other shipping. First shot went wide. Second blew up your camp baggage, and the third just pushed over the pole—a lovely shot.’
“I looked through his glasses and could see no signs of the camp. It had vanished like the nasty dream
it was.
“During breakfast my friend the Quartermaster brought some paper to the cabin, and I remember the Captain telling him that we should stand by for Mr. Smith to come aboard until noon and then sail.
“The Quartermaster so far forgot himself as to give me a knowing wink. He was an extraordinary card. A very solemn face by reason of a scar on his right cheek which drew his lip down. I felt an awful hypocrite, looking anxiously for some sign of life where the camp had been, but as the Quartermaster said, ‘It’s no use upsettin’ the Old Man’s ideas of preesteege.’
“There—that’s the yarn, and there’s one incident to add. Just as the mists of Tierra Del Fuego were vanishing into the horizon, we caught up a piece of wreckage that was floating south. The Quartermaster threw a hooked line and brought it aboard, very neatly. It was the ship’s wheel of the whaler Albatross that I’d first seen in Captain Smith’s flat, and when it was presented to me by the old sailor, I couldn’t help thinking that now was the time when Hans Ackstart needed his halo.
“And now for a side-line on the story.
“One afternoon about two years ago, I was in Town and at a loose end between two appointments, and happening to stroll by the Museum, I went in to kill time.
“I was thinking of the days when my uncle was alive, and my mind went back to that first interview I had with him and Doctor Knocker in the boardroom.
“Suddenly I found myself in front of a case containing skulls of various aborigines. Yes—and there were two marked Tierra Del Fuego.
“Back came the mist circle, and the Captain leaping after that infernal girl. I looked at the skulls closely, and wondered if by any chance either of them could be Juliet’s father. I knew that neither could lay claim to be Romeo in spite of their conceited grinning, for his skull, which the Quartermaster had given to me separately, had rested ever since in that specimen case.
“A very old attendant in uniform sauntered over to me and asked, ‘Know anything about skulls, sir?’
“I told him no, not much, but thinking very vividly of those severed heads. How they rolled and slithered on that slippery cabin floor.
“ ‘Well, them two you’re lookin’ at is very ancient indeed,’ explained the official, obviously angling for a tip. ‘If I was to say thousands of years old, you might think as how I was takin’ the liberty of pullin’ your leg, sir. But if I was to say a million—or not to exaggerate—let’s say half a million, I guess I should be nearer the mark.’
“Appreciating the grim humour of my own knowledge against the outrageous invention of the old man, I turned to him as though incredulous with a ‘No—really?’
“ ‘Ah—wants a bit of stomachin’, don’t it, sir?’ he chuckled. I longed to say, ‘It did want a lot of stomaching when I saw those two with eleven others, rolling about a cabin and making the place stink with congealing black blood.’
“And then—well, I did say it—but not before I had fished out my wallet and handed him a crisp five-pound note.
“ ‘Anything wrong with it?’ he asked.
“ ‘There was nothing wrong with the last one I gave you, was there?’
“ ‘When was that, sir?’ demanded the astonished old fellow.
“ ‘Thy cheek betrayeth you,’ I quoted; for I had noticed a scar upon his right cheek which drew down his lip in a most solemn expression.
“ ‘It was when those two fellows—there,’ and I pointed to the skulls, ‘yes, those two, with hair and flesh upon them like the rest, wanted a bit of stomaching, as they danced a Devil’s Roll between our feet. Yes—it was just after you had dropped the last skull into the barrel of quick-lime. But don’t be alarmed. You and I are the only people who know the truth.’
“The one-time Quartermaster scratched his head, looking hard at me, and then nodding. ‘Shall I take you up on deck, sir?’ he grinned. ‘Bit of a blow will do you good. But not a word to the Old Man.’
“ ‘Captain Harker?’ I shook my head solemnly. ‘No—he’s too potty on preesteege.’”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
the white moth
For a long time none of us moved. Hogarth’s recital had mesmerized us. We both stared at him, waiting for some comment, but he didn’t say anything. He sat there upright in his tall-backed chair, smiling with appreciation at his own story.
I broke the silence with, “I don’t know whether we ought to thank you for such a horror, but I’m sure we do.”
Carnaby, who had been smoking a pipe, got up and knocked it out against a log, which he then kicked up into a blaze. “I suppose you know you’ve thoroughly debunked my respect for museums,” he said solemnly. “I shall never believe any more in what their catalogues tell us. I suppose the nine other skulls went to other museums, eh?”
“Oh, yes,” replied Hogarth. “The committee had promised several a share in the spoils. I’ve seen one myself in Budapest, and I’m told that there’s another in Vienna, and two in Berlin, or were. The rest are in various collections in the U.K. And now, my good Carnaby, are you more sleepy than scared?”
“I’m afraid I shall be boring company now, for any ghost that may wish to be matey in the Chapel,” he answered.
“Splendid,” said Hogarth. “They want someone to be tough with them. Kent and I have been too sympathetic with them, and that’s flat. And talking of stirrup-cups, what about a brandy night-cap, or would anyone prefer a rum and milk in honour of Captain Smith? I’m afraid I can’t do you a mint julep, though I’m sure Hoadley could, if he was up.”
But we’d both had enough and told him we were ready for bed.
“Then I’ll endeavour to pilot you along, Carnaby. Are you still set on sleeping in the Chapel? I can put you elsewhere.”
Carnaby was still set on it, and told Hogarth that he could easily find his own way. “Hoadley told me it was the gothic door at the end of the long corridor. I know.”
I am sure just to encourage us to change our minds, Hogarth poured himself out a brandy. “Mentality’s a strange thing,” he said. “When I was telling you that long yarn, I never had a twinge of this curse, but Old Porfirio’s got me properly now. Perhaps the remedy is to go on telling you more.”
“Don’t tempt us to humour you,” I laughed.
“Nothing else would keep me awake,” said Carnaby.
“Don’t be too sure,” replied our host. “The monk hasn’t started on you yet. Wait till you get acquainted. We may find you a crock to-morrow.”
There was a discreet tap on the Library door. “There you are,” whispered Hogarth. “He’s come to show you the way.” The door opened and Hoadley appeared in his black clothes but with a white muffler round his neck.
“I heard you stirring, sir,” he said diffidently, “and I thought it might be a help to Cap’n Carnaby if I piloted you to your rooms.”
“I admit I’ve drunk a lot, Hoadley,” said Carnaby, “but I assure you I’m perfectly steady. We thought you were in bed.”
“Oh, I have been sir, and asleep, thank you, but even in my room the Monk has been very aggravating. Woke me up time and again, wanting me to go out into the garden. When I conveyed to him that I wasn’t havin’ any, he flew into one of his tantrums, and I regret to say has been destructive in the Captain’s bedroom. I think it would be best if I made you up a bed elsewhere, sir. It would only be a matter of a few minutes.”
“Certainly not, at this time of night,” exploded Carnaby. “Never heard anything so ridiculous. But how do you mean—destructive?”
“Sweepin’ everything portable from the dressin’-table to the floor, sir. I heard the noise of it comin’ from the Chapel, and when I goes in to see if by chance we had had another gate-crashin’ from them Indians, the hand-mirror seems to jump by itself from the other wreckage on the floor and come hurtlin’ through the air—just missin’ my left ear by inches. That’s destructive—and that’s what I means by destructive.”
“Mirror broken again?” asked Hogarth.
Hoadley nodded. “And I r
egret to state past repair this time. Don’t see why ghosts should get away with that sort of thing when humans ain’t allowed to.”
“Ghosts?” repeated Carnaby.
“You might call ’em influences if you prefers it, sir. But exist in this house they does. And as I often says to the Master, perhaps bein’ old-fashioned and brought up in religion, they takes offence at the old stone altar bein’ used as a secular dressin’-table for the laity.”
“There may be something in what you say,” replied Carnaby gravely. “Come along—I can’t get to that Chapel quick enough. I’m on your side, Hoadley, and your ghosts will get no change out of me.”
Of course we all went along to the Chapel. I had not been in it since I had been moved to the Tapestry Room, but to me there certainly seemed to be something evil about it. But Carnaby appeared to be quite chirpy about being left, and at length we consented on the promise that should anything unusual arise, he would ring the bell for Hoadley who would come and wake us.
I suppose that owing to the uncanny stories I had heard, even the gorgeous Tapestry Room did not appear quite so friendly as usual. I know that when Hoadley left me I felt myself longing for my own matter-of-fact bedroom overlooking the Chelsea Embankment, where at least one could see the lights of living ships upon the river, and the comforting beat of the policeman on duty. The thought of those Indians sitting round the fire in the snow-covered field gave me no cheer. I could not even be sorry for them. Serve them right, I thought.
Again I experienced after turning out the lights that uncertainty of whether I was awake or asleep. I was watching the gay colours in the tapestry by the light of the flickering fire, I know that, and don’t remember closing my eyes. Then there occurred the change which so astonished me. The gay colours faded into a dull grey background, and it was not long before I realized that I was not in the Tapestry Room at all, but in the Abbot’s Chapel. At my side stood Carnaby, and I could see by his grave expression that we were about to witness something very terrible. In front of the altar which was lighted with three candles, stood Porfirio, wearing his Abbot’s Cope and Mitre, both red and encrusted with jewels. He was facing the door with his back to the altar. Only we three were there.
The Master of the Macabre Page 21
