JELLAND’S VOYAGE
“Well,” said our Anglo-Jap as we all drew up our chairs round thesmoking-room fire, “it’s an old tale out yonder, and may have spilt overinto print for all I know. I don’t want to turn this club-room into achestnut stall, but it is a long way to the Yellow Sea, and it is justas likely that none of you have ever heard of the yawl _Matilda_, and ofwhat happened to Henry Jelland and Willy McEvoy aboard of her.
“The middle of the sixties was a stirring time out in Japan. That wasjust after the Simonosaki bombardment, and before the Daimio affair.There was a Tory party and there was a Liberal party among the natives,and the question that they were wrangling over was whether the throatsof the foreigners should be cut or not. I tell you all, politics havebeen tame to me since then. If you lived in a treaty port, you werebound to wake up and take an interest in them. And to make it better,the outsider had no way of knowing how the game was going. If theopposition won it would not be a newspaper paragraph that would tell himof it, but a good old Tory in a suit of chain mail, with a sword in eachhand, would drop in and let him know all about it in a single upper cut.
“Of course it makes men reckless when they are living on the edge of avolcano like that. Just at first they are very jumpy, and then therecomes a time when they learn to enjoy life while they have it. I tellyou, there’s nothing makes life so beautiful as when the shadow of deathbegins to fall across it. Time is too precious to be dawdled away then,and a man lives every minute of it. That was the way with us inYokohama. There were many European places of business which had to go onrunning, and the men who worked them made the place lively for sevennights in the week.
“One of the heads of the European colony was Randolph Moore, the bigexport merchant. His offices were in Yokohama, but he spent a good dealof his time at his house up in Jeddo, which had only just been opened tothe trade. In his absence he used to leave his affairs in the hands ofhis head clerk, Jelland, whom he knew to be a man of great energy andresolution. But energy and resolution are two-edged things, you know,and when they are used against you you don’t appreciate them so much.
“It was gambling that set Jelland wrong. He was a little dark-eyedfellow with black curly hair—more than three-quarters Celt, I shouldimagine. Every night in the week you would see him in the same place, onthe left-hand side of the croupier at Matheson’s _rouge et noir_ table.For a long time he won, and lived in better style than his employer. Andthen came a turn of luck, and he began to lose so that at the end of asingle week his partner and he were stone broke, without a dollar totheir names.
“This partner was a clerk in the employ of the same firm—a tall,straw-haired young Englishman called McEvoy. He was a good boy enough atthe start, but he was clay in the hands of Jelland, who fashioned himinto a kind of weak model of himself. They were for ever on the prowltogether, but it was Jelland who led and McEvoy who followed. Lynch andI and one or two others tried to show the youngster that he could cometo no good along that line, and when we were talking to him we could winhim round easily enough, but five minutes of Jelland would swing himback again. It may have been animal magnetism or what you like, but thelittle man could pull the big one along like a sixty-foot tug in frontof a full-rigged ship. Even when they had lost all their money theywould still take their places at the table and look on with shining eyeswhen any one else was raking in the stamps.
“But one evening they could keep out of it no longer. Red had turned upsixteen times running, and it was more than Jelland could bear. Hewhispered to McEvoy, and then said a word to the croupier.
“‘Certainly, Mr. Jelland; your cheque is as good as notes,’ said he.
“Jelland scribbled a cheque and threw it on the black. The card was theking of hearts, and the croupier raked in the little bit of paper.Jelland grew angry, and McEvoy white. Another and a heavier cheque waswritten and thrown on the table. The card was the nine of diamonds.McEvoy leaned his head upon his hands and looked as if he would faint.‘By God!’ growled Jelland, ‘I won’t be beat,’ and he threw on a chequethat covered the other two. The card was the deuce of hearts. A fewminutes later they were walking down the Bund, with the cool night-airplaying upon their fevered faces.
“‘Of course you know what this means,’ said Jelland, lighting a cheroot;‘we’ll have to transfer some of the office money to our current account.There’s no occasion to make a fuss over it. Old Moore won’t look overthe books before Easter. If we have any luck, we can easily replace itbefore then.’
“‘But if we have no luck?’ faltered McEvoy.
“‘Tut, man, we must take things as they come. You stick to me, and I’llstick to you, and we’ll pull through together. You shall sign thecheques to-morrow night, and we shall see if your luck is better thanmine.’
“But if anything it was worse. When the pair rose from the table on thefollowing evening, they had spent over £5,000 of their employer’s money.But the resolute Jelland was as sanguine as ever.
“‘We have a good nine weeks before us before the books will beexamined,’ said he. ‘We must play the game out, and it will all comestraight.’
“McEvoy returned to his rooms that night in an agony of shame andremorse. When he was with Jelland he borrowed strength from him; butalone he recognized the full danger of his position, and the vision ofhis old white-capped mother in England, who had been so proud when hehad received his appointment, rose up before him to fill him withloathing and madness. He was still tossing upon his sleepless couch whenhis Japanese servant entered the bedroom. For an instant McEvoy thoughtthat the long-expected outbreak had come, and plunged for his revolver.Then, with his heart in his mouth, he listened to the message which theservant had brought.
“Jelland was downstairs, and wanted to see him.
“What on earth could he want at that hour of night? McEvoy dressedhurriedly and rushed downstairs. His companion, with a set smile uponhis lips, which was belied by the ghastly pallor of his face, wassitting in the dim light of a solitary candle, with a slip of paper inhis hands.
“‘Sorry to knock you up, Willy,’ said he. ‘No eavesdroppers, I suppose?’
“McEvoy shook his head. He could not trust himself to speak.
“‘Well, then, our little game is played out. This note was waiting forme at home. It is from Moore, and says that he will be down on Mondaymorning for an examination of the books. It leaves us in a tight place.’
“‘Monday!’ gasped McEvoy; ‘to-day is Friday.’
“‘Saturday, my son, and 3 a.m. We have not much time to turn round in.’
“‘We are lost!’ screamed McEvoy.
“‘We soon will be, if you make such an infernal row,’ said Jellandharshly. ‘Now do what I tell you, Willy, and we’ll pull through yet.’
“‘I will do anything—anything.’
“‘That’s better. Where’s your whisky? It’s a beastly time of the day tohave to get your back stiff, but there must be no softness with us, orwe are gone. First of all, I think there is something due to ourrelations, don’t you?’
“McEvoy stared.
“‘We must stand or fall together, you know. Now I, for one, don’t intendto set my foot inside a felon’s dock under any circumstances. D’ye see?I’m ready to swear to that. Are you?’
“‘What d’you mean?’ asked McEvoy, shrinking back.
“‘Why, man, we all have to die, and it’s only the pressing of a trigger.I swear that I shall never be taken alive. Will you? If you don’t, Ileave you to your fate.’
“‘All right. I’ll do whatever you think best.’
“‘You swear it?’
“‘Yes.’
“‘Well, mind, you must be as good as your word. Now we have two cleardays to get off in. The yawl _Matilda_ is on sale, and she has all herfixings and plenty of tinned stuff aboard. We’ll buy the lot to-morrowmorning, and whatever we want, and get away in her. But, first, we’llclear all that is left in the office. There are 5,000 sovereigns in thesafe. Aft
er dark we’ll get them aboard the yawl, and take our chance ofreaching California. There’s no use hesitating, my son, for we have noghost of a look-in in any other direction. It’s that or nothing.’
“‘I’ll do what you advise.’
“‘All right; and mind you get a bright face on you to-morrow, for ifMoore gets the tip and comes before Monday, then——’ He tapped theside-pocket of his coat and looked across at his partner with eyes thatwere full of a sinister meaning.
“All went well with their plans next day. The _Matilda_ was boughtwithout difficulty; and, though she was a tiny craft for so long avoyage, had she been larger two men could not have hoped to manage her.She was stocked with water during the day, and after dark the two clerksbrought down the money from the office and stowed it in the hold. Beforemidnight they had collected all their own possessions without excitingsuspicion, and at two in the morning they left their moorings and stolequietly out from among the shipping. They were seen, of course, and wereset down as keen yachtsmen who were on for a good long Sunday cruise;but there was no one who dreamed that that cruise would only end eitheron the American coast or at the bottom of the North Pacific Ocean.Straining and hauling, they got their mainsail up and set their foresailand jib. There was a slight breeze from the south-east, and the littlecraft went dipping along upon her way. Seven miles from land, however,the wind fell away and they lay becalmed, rising and falling on the longswell of a glassy sea. All Sunday they did not make a mile, and in theevening Yokohama still lay along the horizon.
“On Monday morning down came Randolph Moore from Jeddo, and madestraight for the offices. He had had the tip from some one that hisclerks had been spreading themselves a bit, and that had made him comedown out of his usual routine; but when he reached his place and foundthe three juniors waiting in the street with their hands in theirpockets he knew that the matter was serious.
“‘What’s this?’ he asked. He was a man of action, and a nasty chap todeal with when he had his topmasts lowered.
“‘We can’t get in,’ said the clerks.
“‘Where is Mr. Jelland?’
“‘He has not come to-day.’
“‘And Mr. McEvoy?’
“‘He has not come either.’
“Randolph Moore looked serious. ‘We must have the door down,’ said he.
“They don’t build houses very solid in that land of earthquakes, and ina brace of shakes they were all in the office. Of course the thing toldits own story. The safe was open, the money gone, and the clerks fled.Their employer lost no time in talk.
“‘Where were they seen last?’
“‘On Saturday they bought the _Matilda_ and started for a cruise.’
“Saturday! The matter seemed hopeless if they had got two days’ start.But there was still the shadow of a chance. He rushed to the beach andswept the ocean with his glasses.
“‘My God!’ he cried. ‘There’s the _Matilda_ out yonder. I know her bythe rake of her mast. I have my hand upon the villains after all!’
“But there was a hitch even then. No boat had steam up, and the eagermerchant had not patience to wait. Clouds were banking up along thehaunch of the hills, and there was every sign of an approaching changeof weather. A police boat was ready with ten armed men in her, andRandolph Moore himself took the tiller as she shot out in pursuit of thebecalmed yawl.
“Jelland and McEvoy, waiting wearily for the breeze which never came,saw the dark speck which sprang out from the shadow of the land and grewlarger with every swish of the oars. As she drew nearer, they could seealso that she was packed with men, and the gleam of weapons told whatmanner of men they were. Jelland stood leaning against the tiller, andhe looked at the threatening sky, the limp sails, and the approachingboat.
“‘It’s a case with us, Willy,’ said he. ‘By the Lord, we are two mostunlucky devils, for there’s wind in that sky, and another hour wouldhave brought it to us.’
“McEvoy groaned.
“‘There’s no good softening over it, my lad,’ said Jelland. ‘It’s thepolice boat right enough, and there’s old Moore driving them to row likehell. It’ll be a ten-dollar job for every man of them.’
“Willy McEvoy crouched against the side with his knees on the deck. ‘Mymother! my poor old mother!’ he sobbed.
“‘She’ll never hear that you have been in the dock anyway,’ saidJelland. ‘My people never did much for me, but I will do that much forthem. It’s no good, Mac. We can chuck our hands. God bless you, old man!Here’s the pistol!’
“He cocked the revolver, and held the butt towards the youngster. Butthe other shrunk away from it with little gasps and cries. Jellandglanced at the approaching boat. It was not more than a few hundredyards away.
“‘There’s no time for nonsense,’ said he. ‘Damn it! man, what’s the useof flinching? You swore it!’
“‘No, no, Jelland!’
“‘Well, anyhow, I swore that neither of us should be taken. Will you doit?’
“‘I can’t! I can’t!’
“‘Then I will for you.’
“The rowers in the boat saw him lean forwards, they heard two pistolshots, they saw him double himself across the tiller, and then, beforethe smoke had lifted, they found that they had something else to thinkof.
“For at that instant the storm broke—one of those short sudden squallswhich are common in these seas. The _Matilda_ heeled over, her sailsbellied out, she plunged her lee-rail into a wave, and was off like afrightened deer. Jelland’s body had jammed the helm, and she kept acourse right before the wind, and fluttered away over the rising sealike a blown piece of paper. The rowers worked frantically, but the yawlstill drew ahead, and in five minutes it had plunged into the stormwrack never to be seen again by mortal eye. The boat put back, andreached Yokohama with the water washing half-way up to the thwarts.
“And that was how it came that the yawl _Matilda_, with a cargo of fivethousand pounds and a crew of two dead young men, set sail across thePacific Ocean. What the end of Jelland’s voyage may have been no manknows. He may have foundered in that gale, or he may have been picked upby some canny merchantman, who stuck to the bullion and kept his mouthshut, or he may still be cruising in that vast waste of waters, blownnorth to the Behring Sea, or south to the Malay Islands. It’s better toleave it unfinished than to spoil a true story by inventing a tag toit.”
Round the Fire Stories Page 17
