THE DEATH SHIP

Auckland Star, Volume LXIV, Issue 1, 3 January 1933, Page 15

THE DEATH SHIP

By HARRY EDMONDS. 'Author 0} "The North Sea Mystery."

(CHAPTER Xll.—Continued.) We entered the saloon, and I asked: "Pratt, how's the breakfast coming along ?" "Vera good, sorr, necly ready, sorr." Charlie and I took our places at the saloon table, and then I said: "Where's Olsen?" "Is it his watch?" said Charlie. "Yes," I replied. I walked across to my cabin and opened the door quickly. Red was looking upwards out of the porthole. He gave a start as he saw me in the cabin doorway, and, putting a finger to his lips for silence, beckoned me inside. I closed the door and waited. He drew back his head, and, with an ingratiating smile, rubbed his large freckled hands. "News, Mr. Staley," exclaimed Olsen. "I've just overheard Chips and two of the men having a pow-wow. They've fixc.d up a yarn. If that ship sends a boat aboard, they're going to say that you and Captain Harris have been throwing men overboard for insubordination." ""We'll have something to say about that," I replied. "It's been like a school room," said Red. "They've drummed it into Survesti until he talks like a parrot. Listen, they're at it again." I jumped up on to the top bunk and listened at the open porthole —sure enough, we were on the lee side, and George Hookway's voice was carried over the side to me by the wind as plainly as though he were talking in the cabin. "Spoken like a book," said George Hookway. "You got it,- mate. Xow you stick to it."

"Breakfast is served, sorr," Pratt's head showed around the half-open cabin door. I slid to the deck from the porthole, and Olsen and I entered the saloon. "I'd better keep a look-out on the weather side, Mf. Staley," said the second mate, and I noticed him squint awkwardly in Miss Kinahan'e direction. "You've got another quarter of an hour," I said. "The warship is still six miles astern. Let's hurry and eat."

Charlie glanced at the binnacle telltale as I sat down and reported the conversation I had heard from the deck.

"We ate in silence. There was an atmosphere of constraint. I saw that Charlie was hurrying, and did not bother to force conversation. Occasionally Garry and Eileen Kinahan exchanged commonplaces, but it was apparent that a tiff was in progress. I glanced sideways at her once as I asked Pratt to refill my cup, and saw her staring at her plate with an air of cool indifference. Garry seemed to alternate between a subdued manner of nursing injured feelings and challenging sarcasm. "Til bet you two to one this is the last breakfast I'll take on this ship, Mr. Olsen," he called over, hie shoulder ,to the second mate, who was sitting on the companion stairway, with his plate balanced on his knee and his cup steadied against his leg 'beside him. The second mate gave one of his harsh grating laughs and said in' his queer, anxious voice: "I don't bet, young man, but I don't reckon you'd win—not by a long chalk."

Charlie rose and said: "Please excuse me—but don't you hurry." He caught my eye as he rose, and I followed him into the darkened cabin.

"Mind this knife," I heard him say, and then I just made out the circle of the porthole from some light which must have been reflected upward from the sea below. I saw two-thirds of its circle obscured as Charlie Harris sat on the top 'bunk and started working with his knife. Within two minutes I saw the circle of tho porthole as Charlie drew back, and a small point of light came through the tarpaulin from the sunshine beyond.

"I'm just going to try the peephole, Jim," said Charlie, and then I saw his profile outlined faintly in the thin wafer of light striking upwards, as he put his eye to the aperture.

"Oh, what a beauty," I heard him say. "The French know how to build ships. She's just like a real' thoroughbred— nothing so ugly as a French battleship, but a French cruiser—that's a different proposition. By the Jim, ask Olsen to listen at tie porthole in your cabin. Fred Bush and First Mate Georgie Hookway might be doing some talking just at present."

I entered the saloon and found Red talfeing with Garry Henson and Miss Kinahan, at the saloon table. I repeated the captain's orders.

"Ay, ay, Mr. Staley," he called out cheerfully, he he went across to the port cabin, and I hurried back to Charlie Harris. "Whereabouts is she?" I asked him. • "About three and a half miles astern —coming up hand over fist just off our starboard quarter. She'll pass abreast of us about three-quarters of a mile away. Take a. look at -her—or—bring one of the telescopes." I made my way around to the chart room cabin and returned with the telescope. Then I visited Olsen in our cabin on the port side. To my surprise, his head was right out of the porthole, gazing upwards. "Look out," I whispered hoarsely. "They'll ewat you if they get a chance."

Red drew in his head, and said in a kind of hoarse, broken cackle, "Not they, Mr. Staley. I just heard Chips sing out to Herbie Smith to bend the Red Ensign an' run' 'er up. Apart from Chips and Bill Donald at the wheel, they're all amidships, looking at 'er over the starboard bulwarks." I left him and ran across the saloon to Charlie. Miss Kinahan watched me gravely. from her seat at the saloon table. Garry was leaning against the entrance to the lazarette, talking and laughing with Pratt. "•Everything's quiet the other side," I reported to Charlie. "The crew are just hoisting the Red Ensign." "Pratt," sang out Charlie. The steward came hurrying from the lazarette and poked his head inside the cabin doorway. "Yes,- sorr?" "• •-., ' '';:; "Bring me a tin of kerosene and some cotton waste.." . s- .■ ' "Ay, ay, sorr." "In 15 minuses she'll be right abeam," said Charlie. "Now Jim—this is my plan. We set fire to that tarpaulin to get the crew aft. Pratt and Oslen will keep feeding it with cotton waste soaked in kerosene on bunk rails or any other sort of rod that's handy while you and I go for'ard through the hold and try and force the little hatchway to the sail locker. Wc can make as much noise as we like —they won't hear us unless one of the men stays in the fo'c'sle, but I don't think there's much chance of that, and we've got to risk %i?iiJZ ifti . : v-

"I wonder if the carpenter has jammed the bulkhead doorways from the main hold to the lower foredeck?"

"Slip along and sec. I'll look after tho fire here. By the way, don't forget your revolver —and see that it's loaded." "Ay, ay, sir."

For the last 24 hours I had carried my revolver in my hip pocket, but as I had forgotten my electric torch, I hurried back to my cabin. Here I found Red Olsen with his head stuck recklessly out of the porthole.

He drew his head in and said: "Everything seems quiet up there, Mr. Staley. Whereabouts is the other ship?"

"Three miles astern, just off the starboard quarter," I replied.

He nodded, and then I tried my electric torch, pocketed it and hurried through the lazarette on my journey through the hold for'ard. I tried the little hatch to the sail locker, but it was jammed down hard and fast.

"I wonder how Charlie thinks he's going to shift this?" I muttered, and then I almost dropped my electric torch in my alarm. Up through the square hole leading down to the forehold came a weird sigh—it seemed more of a moan, like someone in pain, and then a voice —the voice of a negro—"Yes, suh—you sure is de nex' man, Masser Staley. We's all a waitin' fo yo suh."

"Who's there?" I shouted. Once more came a low moaning sound, and as I approached the square opening in the lower deck under the fore-hatch, the voice continued: "Yes, suh, you sure is de nex man."

I swung myself over the sill and descended the vertical ladder. My nerves were on edge, but I determined that 1 would settle the mystery of this spirit. As I flashed my torch around the empty forehold I asked myself: "To which of the missing men did that voice belong?" But this was the end of the seance.

I waited for a full minute, exploring every nook and cranny, and then, not wishing to keep Charlie Harris waiting, in case the cruiser came up quicker than was expected, I climbed the ladder and hurried back aft. Here everything was as I had left it. I could sec Pratt and Charlie Harris busy with wads of cotton waste, and Garry with the two cabin fire extinguishers in his hands, looking on with interest. My cabin door was closed, and no doubt Red Olsen < was once more asking for trouble with his head through tho porthole. Eileen Kinahan sat at the saloon table, her chin cupped in her hands, and, as far as I could see, very bored with everything in general.

"I've just heard another voice—in the forchold," I said to her. "This ship is uncanny," she replied. "I wonder if she's like some people. You know what I mean—a good medium."

"Excellent I should say, but every medium I've heard of has proved to be a box of conjuring . tricks when put alongside a scientific illusionist." "Is there any danger" she asked calmly. "No—at any rate, not for you, l replied. "I don't know what you're going to do, but I hope you'll all take care." "Just stay here with Mr. Henson. He will look after you." I gave her what I meant to be a reassuring smile and went across to Charlie Harris. "We'll need a crowbar or sledge to open the little hatch for'ard," I said to him. "No, Jim. Look here, I forgot to tell you. Fix up a lever with that purchase tackle you carried down here to shift the cargo from the bulkhead door to the after hold. You can choose the spars you want from the spares lashed fore and aft in the lower fore deck. Once the tarpaulin is alight—Pratt and Miss Kinahan can see that the cabin is not set on fire — the others can come for'ard and help us." Pratt was leaning over the top bunk, sponging with cotton waste soaked j in paraffin the side of the tarapulin hangin" over the porthole. I hurried forward again, this time taking a hurricane lantern. My preparation completed, I returned aft to look for the tackle which I remembered I had left hooked on to the staging bracket under Pratt's tin trunk. I saw the double purchase tackle hanging where I had left it, and thought I'd slip in through the lazarette and see how things were going in the starboard cabin. The captain was leaning back on the top bunk, in an awkward strained position with a telescope to his eye, and pressed up against the spy hole. There was complete silence, everyone seemed to be waiting for him to speak. At last he lowered the telescope, and, regaining a natural position, said: "That damned cruiser has just chosen this particular moment to practise, 'Away boat's crew.' I expect her captain thinks, he's giving us a free entertainment. 'However, there's one advantage, it'll put the wind up the people on deck." "Whereabouts is she" I asked.

"About a mile distant, slightly astern and circling round to pick up her boat. It's no' use doing anything until the practice is over and they are on their course again." He put his eye to the telescope once more, we waiting patiently. No one spoke. Pratt seemed as anxious as anyone, while Red Olsen's hands clasped and unclasped nervously in front of him. Minute merged into minute, and then Charlie spoke: "The boat's alongside. The falls are hooked on. Away, and up she goes." More silence, this time an interval of nearly three minutes. Charlie lowered the telescope and handed it to Pratt. "Now then, everyone ready," he said. "Jim, got your revolver. Mr. Henson, stand by your fire extinguisher. Out of the cabin everyone, except Pratt." He struck a match, held it to a dripping wad of cotton waste on the end Of a bunk rail, and the cabin sprang to life in the great yellow flare of flame—black smoke arose and crept in thick puffs and waves all over the underside of the deck above. Charlie pushed this through the porthole and held it against the tarpaulin already dripping with kerosene. The cabin filled with thick oily smoke, and then We heard a roaring blaze and saw daylight appear at the porthole, surrounded by a flicker of red and yellow flame.

"Hej*: you are, Pratt," called Charlie. The steward took the bunk rail and commenced stamping on one or two burning spots of paraffin which had dropped from the lighted flare. "Now then, like lightning!" said Charlie, ■-

We hurried after him. We jumped from the staging. I unhooked the tackle while the others ran for'ard. I stumbled along after them, carrying it over my shoulder, and then I heard Charlie's curses: "Quick, Olsen, try the other door."

I saw him staring at the clamping handles and leaning against the bulkhead door, as Red Olsen, carrying a hurricane lantern, ran across the cargo to the door on the starboard side.

"What's the matter" I shouted. "This door's jammed solid," cried Charlie.

"So's that one," said Red Olsen

I stood still amazed. "Why, they were free when I came back only a, few minutes ago," I stammered out. "H'm," said Charlie. "Did anyone see or hear you, Jim?"

"I don't think so," I replied. ' "I saw nothing and heard nothing. I made very little noise. I'm sure they couldn't have heard me from the fo'c'sle"—and then I remembered the mysterious negro's voice. "Except," I hesitated-^-"Except -what?" queried Charlie. "Come along, Jim, wo mustn't waste time. Here we are caught like rats in a trap." "When I came for'ard just now to see if the sail locker hatch was fixed, I heard a voice inside the ship—it seemed to come from the fore hold under my feet. I climbed down the bulkhead ladder-way and looked everywhere—but I could see no sign of any living person." I saw Charlie give a gesture of impatience. "Someone's hiding in the ship. God knows how they're doing it, but —" His sentence was cut short. We heard four loud bangs given on the steel door of the bulkhead by someone' on the other side, and then we heard a voice. It was Chips, Fred Bush, the carpenter. "Don't waste yer time, cap'n," he shouted. "We're up to all yer tricks." Charlie stood still and glared at the doorway. If fierce determination could have opened that immovable steel door, Charlie's look at that moment would have done it. "Nothing to be done here," said Charlie, helplessly, glaring around the sides of the ship and at the main hatchway on the deck above him. "Let's see how the fire's getting on, and what's happened to the cruiser." As we ran back over the cargo, we pot as far as the asbestos bales, and, then I noticed smoke in the hold. We had commenced to cough and had nearly reached the staging when I saw the dim oblong door to the lazaretto showing like a phantom in the smoke fog. I heard the voices of Pratt and Henson mingled with frantic coughing. "Good God —what's happened?" I ejaculated. Charlie and I made a dash for the lazarette, and saw the saloon full of foul black smoke, the smell of extinguisher chemical added to the acrid fumes, and I caught sight of Pratt kneeling on the floor trying to get air. I crawled along the saloon floor and saw the form of Garry Henson prone almost at the side of the table. He seemed unconscious, and the extinguisher still fizzed away in his hand.

"Get 'em into the hold," I heard Charlie shout, and, grasping the young airman's legs I dragged him on his back across the saloon floor and out on to the staging. Charlie was already there with Pratt. For the moment I missed Red Olsen, but I remembered afterwards wondering where he was, and then I thought of the girl, Eileen Kinahan.

Without a word to the others, I crawled back to the saloon. Holding my face to tho deck, I uoticed that the chemical extinguisher gas was lying low on its surface. It seemed like breathing sulphuric acid, mingled with ammonia and rancid butter. However, with my eyes almost blind and with water streaming from them, I got to the cabin doorway and opened it. Nothing was visible. It was intensely black and full of smoke, but there were no flames. I supposed tho cabin was empty, for I called out, but received no reply. I summoned all my strength, and crawled painfully across the saloon floor towards my cabin on the port side. The saloon was now in pitch blackness, as the swing lamp had gone out. I opened my cabin door, and saw that inside the atmosphere was clear.

Dropping to my hands and knees, I crawled up to the chart room cabin door. I fumbled at the handle, the next instant it opened and I somehow got inside. Everything seemed to whirl, I had a confused impression of the open port hole, the table and drawers holding the charts, and the bunk above me whirling round and round, and then I felt arms around me and saw a pair of azure blue eyes. Just before I lost consciousness, I heard the cabin door slam behind me. (To be continued daily.)