VENDETTA

Evening Star, Issue 19764, 14 January 1928, Page 2

VENDETTA

A SHORT STORY [By Fusilier.] No. H. One bell in the middle watch hag sounded from aft, and was repeated by the look-out on the forecastlehead, his cheery “ All’s well ” rising clear and distinct above the multitudinous sounds from the lofty towers of canvas of the Silver Stream as she swept bravely on. The great clouds of sail gave her a ghostly appearance, as the barque forced her way through the dark waste of waters to the accompaniment ol the ' creakings and groanmgs of her masts and spars, and the endless voices from the winds aloft, sounding like the wailings of legions of lost souls and the cries of baffled furies, as the stately craft, casting showers ol sparkling liquid lights from her forefoot rose out of the smother of foam under her bows to each successive lift of tlv waters ot the Mexican Gult. The two mates had turned out to tie men after Griggs’s own heart, regular man-handlers, quick with boot ana bo-laying-pin, as some of the crew could already testify. Leon Schiller, the chief mate, was a young man ot refined appearance with a pleasant voice, most assured!}' “ the mildest mannered man that ever scuttled ship or cut a throat.” The second mate, Abel Knee, simply looked what he was, a 11 bucko mate,” who had received his baptism of blood on the Western Ocean packets, where weaklings were quickly broken and destroyed nncl strong men became brutes. The crew were a mixed crowd common to all the American seaports at that time, Germans, Swedes, and Danes, with a couple of giant negroes and a quadroon from New Orleans, the only exception, Jules Valles, the young Frenchman, who, contrary to the captain’s expectations, had turned out to be the most capable seaman of the lot. The watch on clock, with the exception of the helmsman and the lookout, were sheltering in the lee of the housed-in longboat when Valles made his way cautiously to where the great cases were lashed down. Drawing his knife from its sheath, he rapidly cut through the lashings securing the huge coffin-like receptacles, and then silently made his way in the direction of the forepart of the ship. Reaching the break of the forecastle lie gave a piercing, long-drawn whistle that was immediately answered by a similar call from somewhere out of the darkness enveloping the barque. Simultaneously with the whistling the lids of the great rases were forced off from in-

wards, and several dark forms crawled out and moved slowly aft.

Worn out with anxiety and fear, Luther Griggs at eight bells (midnight) had turned in without undressing, with a revolver under his pillow ready to hand, intending to snatch a few minutes’ repose. Although well primed with liquor, he found it an impossibility to court the drowsy god, some foreboding of evil impelling his gaze to wander occasionally to the door of his cabin, although it was securely locked.

His thoughts wandered to all thst had transpired aboard the barque sine* they had left New Orleans. Something about the young Frenchman had created a dread of some impending disaster in relation to himself or the ship. His consciousness seemed to whisper: “Kill that man! If not you are doomed.” Griggs fingered his revolver, tempted to end this terrible suspense. “But why not wait?” he thought. A dark night, his enemy lying out on the yard fisting the heavy canvas, and one of liis brutal mates handy to kick or punch him off, and the Frenchman would trouble him no more this side of the grave. In fact, there were various ways to rid himself of the fellow he reckoned as ho replaced the weapon beneath the pillow. Meditating in this manner for some time, a noise like someone trying the lock induced him to call out, but before his trembling lips could utter a sound the door slowly opened, and a huge monster, covered in a greeny-looking slime from the Mississippi swamps, made its ungainly way to where he lay, its glaring eyes looking in the gloom like illuminated rubies as it stared at the cowering wretch in the bunk. Directly after the creature’s entrance a young Italian girl, who looked like a figure that had just stepped out of the frame of a Raphael altar piece with that Madonna-like beauty common to her ronnti-vwr?r' r "> , nvii'P' 1 Iho cabin.

“At last, Lapium unggs! ' sue exclaimed, covering the terrified skipper with a revolver. “ I tclla you in l«ssa da mont I would killa you.” Griggs made an attempt to reach his revolver, hut the girl advanced nearer, and the great alligator, twisting itself round, raised its repulsive head, nearly touching the face of the agonised man, who tried to shriek out, but terror held him speechless. When at last the girl deliberately placed the cold muzzle of her weapon to In's forehead be made a Inst despairing effort to call out, knowing that his steward or one of the mates would answer his cry for help

At the sound of his own voice the captain of the Silver Stream awoke to find himself in the seclusion of his own cabin, his head resting on the cold metal of his revolver, _ which had worked from under his pillow during the few troubled minutes he had slept; the pounding of the waters against the ship’s timbers and the occasional darkening of the glass of the closed port as the barque fell into the troughs, bringing him to a conscionsnes of bis surroundings. Soaked in perspiration and trembling as if with an ague, he placed the loaded firearm in his pocket, and then turned up the light of the swinging lamp, and was about to pour out -some spirits to steady his shattered nerves when a shrill, piercing whistle sounded from the forward part of tho vessel, followed a moment afterwards by ono from the deck overhead. “My God! The Mafia whistle,” exclaimed the alarmed Luther, with blanched cheeks and quivering bps, as he paused in the act of filling his glass. That dreaded whistle, the call of the Mafia, the Sicilian Secret Society, often beard in the Southern States at that period, the sound of which had appalled tho commander, of the Silver Stream, had barelv ceased, when it was followed by a great commotion on deck. (To be continued.)