within the tides-第25节
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But since the captain committed suicide； he says； I have been
sitting here thinking it out。 All sorts of things happen。
Conspiracy to lose the ship … attempted murder … and this suicide。
For if it was not suicide； Mr。 Cloete； then I know of a victim of
the most cruel； cold…blooded attempt at murder； somebody who has
suffered a thousand deaths。 And that makes the thousand pounds of
which we spoke once a quite insignificant sum。 Look how very
convenient this suicide is。 。 。
〃He looks up at Cloete then； who smiles at him and comes quite
close to the table。
〃You killed Harry Dunbar； he whispers。 。 。 The fellow glares at him
and shows his teeth： Of course I did！ I had been in that cabin
for an hour and a half like a rat in a trap。 。 。 Shut up and left
to drown in that wreck。 Let flesh and blood judge。 Of course I
shot him！ I thought it was you； you murdering scoundrel； come back
to settle me。 He opens the door flying and tumbles right down upon
me； I had a revolver in my hand； and I shot him。 I was crazy。 Men
have gone crazy for less。
〃Cloete looks at him without flinching。 Aha！ That's your story；
is it？ 。 。 。 And he shakes the table a little in his passion as he
speaks。 。 。 Now listen to mine。 What's this conspiracy？ Who's
going to prove it？ You were there to rob。 You were rifling his
cabin； he came upon you unawares with your hands in the drawer； and
you shot him with his own revolver。 You killed to steal … to
steal！ His brother and the clerks in the office know that he took
sixty pounds with him to sea。 Sixty pounds in gold in a canvas
bag。 He told me where they were。 The coxswain of the life…boat
can swear to it that the drawers were all empty。 And you are such
a fool that before you're half an hour ashore you change a
sovereign to pay for a drink。 Listen to me。 If you don't turn up
day after to…morrow at George Dunbar's solicitors； to make the
proper deposition as to the loss of the ship； I shall set the
police on your track。 Day after to…morrow。 。 。
〃And then what do you think？ That Stafford begins to tear his
hair。 Just so。 Tugs at it with both hands without saying
anything。 Cloete gives a push to the table which nearly sends the
fellow off his chair； tumbling inside the fender； so that he has
got to catch hold of it to save himself。 。 。
〃You know the sort of man I am； Cloete says； fiercely。 I've got to
a point that I don't care what happens to me。 I would shoot you
now for tuppence。
〃At this the cur dodges under the table。 Then Cloete goes out； and
as he turns in the street … you know； little fishermen's cottages；
all dark； raining in torrents； too … the other opens the window of
the parlour and speaks in a sort of crying voice …
〃You low Yankee fiend … I'll pay you off some day。
〃Cloete passes by with a damn bitter laugh； because he thinks that
the fellow in a way has paid him off already； if he only knew it。〃
My impressive ruffian drank what remained of his beer； while his
black； sunken eyes looked at me over the rim。
〃I don't quite understand this；〃 I said。 〃In what way？〃
He unbent a little and explained without too much scorn that
Captain Harry being dead； his half of the insurance money went to
his wife； and her trustees of course bought consols with it。
Enough to keep her comfortable。 George Dunbar's half； as Cloete
feared from the first； did not prove sufficient to launch the
medicine well； other moneyed men stepped in； and these two had to
go out of that business； pretty nearly shorn of everything。
〃I am curious；〃 I said； 〃to learn what the motive force of this
tragic affair was … I mean the patent medicine。 Do you know？〃
He named it； and I whistled respectfully。 Nothing less than
Parker's Lively Lumbago Pills。 Enormous property！ You know it；
all the world knows it。 Every second man； at least； on this globe
of ours has tried it。
〃Why！〃 I cried； 〃they missed an immense fortune。〃
〃Yes；〃 he mumbled； 〃by the price of a revolver…shot。〃
He told me also that eventually Cloete returned to the States；
passenger in a cargo…boat from Albert Dock。 The night before he
sailed he met him wandering about the quays； and took him home for
a drink。 〃Funny chap； Cloete。 We sat all night drinking grogs；
till it was time for him to go on board。〃
It was then that Cloete； unembittered but weary； told him this
story； with that utterly unconscious frankness of a patent…medicine
man stranger to all moral standards。 Cloete concluded by remarking
that he； had 〃had enough of the old country。〃 George Dunbar had
turned on him； too； in the end。 Cloete was clearly somewhat
disillusioned。
As to Stafford； he died； professed loafer； in some East End
hospital or other； and on his last day clamoured 〃for a parson；〃
because his conscience worried him for killing an innocent man。
〃Wanted somebody to tell him it was all right；〃 growled my old
ruffian； contemptuously。 〃He told the parson that I knew this
Cloete who had tried to murder him； and so the parson （he worked
among the dock labourers） once spoke to me about it。 That skunk of
a fellow finding himself trapped yelled for mercy。 。 。 Promised to
be good and so on。 。 。 Then he went crazy 。 。 。 screamed and threw
himself about； beat his head against the bulkheads 。 。 。 you can
guess all that … eh？ 。 。 。 till he was exhausted。 Gave up。 Threw
himself down； shut his eyes； and wanted to pray。 So he says。
Tried to think of some prayer for a quick death … he was that
terrified。 Thought that if he had a knife or something he would
cut his throat； and be done with it。 Then he thinks： No！ Would
try to cut away the wood about the lock。 。 。 He had no knife in his
pocket。 。 。 he was weeping and calling on God to send him a tool of
some kind when suddenly he thinks： Axe！ In most ships there is a
spare emergency axe kept in the master's room in some locker or
other。 。 。 Up he jumps。 。 。 Pitch dark。 〃Pulls at the drawers to
find matches and； groping for them； the first thing he comes upon …
Captain Harry's revolver。 Loaded too。 He goes perfectly quiet all
over。 Can shoot the lock to pieces。 See？ Saved！ God's
providence！ There are boxes of matches too。 Thinks he： I may
just as well see what I am about。
〃Strikes a light and sees the little canvas bag tucked away at the
back of the drawer。 Knew at once what that was。 Rams it into his
pocket quick。 Aha！ says he to himself： this requires more light。
So he pitches a lot of paper on the floor； set fire to it； and
starts in a hurry rummaging for more valuables。 Did you ever？ He
told that East…End parson that the devil tempted him。 First God's
mercy … then devil's work。 Turn and turn about。 。 。
〃Any squirming skunk can talk like that。 He was so busy with the
drawers that the first thing he heard was a shout； Great Heavens。
He looks up and there was the door open （Cloete had left the key in
the lock） and Captain Harry holding on； well above him； very fierce
in the light of the burning papers。 His eyes were starting out of
his head。 Thieving； he thunders at him。 A sailor！ An officer！
No！ A wretch like you deserves no better than to be left here to
drown。
〃This Stafford … on his death…bed … told the parson that when he
heard these words he went crazy again。 He snatched his hand with
the revolver in it out of the drawer； and fired without aiming。
Captain Harry fell right in with a crash like a stone on top of the
burning papers； putting the blaze out。 All dark。 Not a sound。 He
listened for a bit then dropped the revolver and scrambled out on
deck like mad。〃
The old fellow struck the table with his ponderous fist。
〃What makes me sick is to hear these silly boat…men telling people
the captain committed suicide。 Pah！ Captain Harry was a man that
could face his Maker any time up there； and here below； too。 He
wasn't the sort to slink out of life。 Not he！ He was a good man
down to the ground。 He gave me my first job as stevedore only
three days after I got married。〃
As the vindication of Captain Harry from the charge of suicide
seemed to be his only object； I did not thank him very effusively
for his material。 And then it was not worth many thanks in any
case。
For it is too startling even to think of such things happening in
our respectable Channel in full view； so to speak； of the luxurious
continental traffic to Switzerland and Monte Carlo。 This story to
be acceptable should have been transposed to somewhere in the South
Seas。 But it would have been too much trouble to
