FICTION.

New Zealand Mail, 18 January 1900, Page 10

FICTION.

HIS MADELINE.

«. BY J. HAN ME R QUAIL. (Author of “The Voyage Home,” At)

(All Rights Reserved.)

“Captain Paul Hermann, sir!” The waiter stood .aside to allow the stranger to pass into the room. “Glad to see you. Captain; how are your" said Henry Musgrave warmly, as he advanced to meet his visitor. “Oh, fairish, considering things. How are you?" “Oh, I'm allright, except ’’ Musgrave shrugged his shoulders, turned the palms of his hands towards Captain Hermann and bent his head to one side in an ominous and uneasy fashion. Walking to the front of the fire-place, he put his hands behind him and glanced impatiently at the closing door. ‘ 4 The door handle rattled and the waiter had gone. "There! sit down. Captain, we can talk now," said Musgrave as he walked to a side - table and took a decanter in each hand. “Whisky, brandy or what?” he asked. with a look at the captain. "Oh, whisky will do,” replied Hermann, indifferently. Musgrave took two glasses from the sidetable and poured out a stiff measure of the liquor into each. “Good health to you. Captain,” he said, raising one glass to drink. “Good health and good luck,” was the response, as Captain Hermann grasped the other glass, raised it to his lips and took a light draught. Setting his glass on the table, Musgrave moved a chair to within a yard of his visitor and then sat down. "Well, what's afloat?” asked the captain, eager to know why Henry Musgrave, manager of the North Brazilian Shipping Company, had invited him. to the New Metropole. Musgrave raised his chair and set it down again one inch nearer his visitor. “Captain,” he said in an undertone. “I suppose you know that it’s all up with the company r” "Well, I guessed that things weren’t over brisk.” "Brisk! They’re brisk enough but it’s the wrong way. We’re in- liquidation. The boats are to be sold and in a tew days; the North Brazilian will have no further use for your valuable services or mine.” “Humph! that’s bad!” "Bad as it can be as regards the company. That’s why I wanted you to come and talk things over.’ The captain shot an inquiring glance at JM usgrave. "I've an idea that will yield a few thousand pounds within twelve months,” Musgrave went on. “I want a captain to go in with me on half shares.” “What is it ?” came the sharp inquiry. “Take a solemn oath that you won’t divulge, and I’ll tell you everything.” “Oh. that’s all right, you can trust me.” "Give me your hand.” The captain's arm slowly rose. Musgrave grasped his hand and held it H na!y. “Give me your solemn, oath that you won't repeat a word that I say, to anyone.” "Bight: I swear.” “Good. Then here’s the trick. I’m going to bluff the underwriters. I’ve paid them thousands and it’s quite time I made a call on them.” Hermann looked black and moved uneasily. "You needn’t be afraid: it’s not a scuttling job. We can do better than that,” said Musgrave, reading the captain’s thoughts. "Go on,” was the impatient rejoinder. “We can get one of the company’s boats at our own price. Suppose we take one of tia best, fill her up with what we can get Cubbish; insure the ship and cargo rer S®)p sum, and let her go and play chameleon. Do you see-?” “Yes; that you want to send me to penal servitude,” said the captain coolly? “Bosh! Don’t you see the play. Twenty-four hours out your boat becomes some other boat. You paint her down and give her the name of some boat shes like. Suppose you had the Pernambuean. A couple of* days after leaving port she becomes, say, the Caspian. You start, say, for Buenos Ayres but go to Calcutta or Bombay instead, and sell the boat—the Caspian—for what you can get. The Pernarubucan will have gone,—at least, they must think so, here, and I must get her posted as lost and look out for money. What you get for the boat will be so much more to the good. That’ll work, won't it ?” Hermann sat silent, looking hard at the fire-back. The scheme was as audacious as it was simple, but he saw difficulties. There were the cargo, and the papers and the crew. The cargo would have to be got rid of, and the crew would see all that was done above board. “Won’t it work?” asked Musgrave. disappointed. Hermann shook his head. “Why not ?” “What about the cargo and the papers and the men?” queried the captain. “I’ll see to the papers. The cargo, you’d put out where we arranged, and you would nave to keep the men on board until you bad got rid of the boat,” said Musgrave confidently. Hermann thought again. •‘What would a boat fetch at Calcutta or Bombay,” he asked after a long think. “More than the cost of the venture.” “And how much would you make out of the insurance?” “Can’t tell; perhaps thirty thousand; perhaps more.” “And you would be willing to make it an .equal share job?” “Yes, we would divide equally/’ “How about getting the boat?” “I can work that. The company will be gtjad to get a boat off their hands.” i ..Hermann took a sip at his whisky and < thei' thought for a mimite. “Pay all costs i and guarantee me two thousand pounds :

however the thing goes and I’ll go in with you,” he said decisively. “Why two thouand pounds?” Musgrave asked with a diappoiuted air. “Because I take the risks. If the thing fails I'm done.” “Tut! nonsense!” “Ruined, ruined! Nothing but penal servitude for it,’’ the captain said emphatically. They talked for ten minutes more and then Musgrave yielded. The captain agreed to join him in the venture on the understanding that he was to have half of the nett profits, or two thousand pounds, whichever sum might be the greater. He was to command such steamer as could be got and, jointly with Musgrave, was to exploit the underwriters. The cool effrontery of the project made it the more attractive to him. He parted from Musgrave in a lighter and more hopeful mood than he had known for many a day. * * » «■ . « Musgrave bought the North Brazilian Company's steamer Madeline at a price which some of the shareholders of the company correctly described as “little more than the price of old iron.” But as the company had been working at a ruinous loss and was retiring Henry Musgrave, its old manager, to make way for a liquidator; and as the Madeline and two other steamers were swallowing up the little remaining capital of the company,'' the directors were glad of an opportunity of lightening their burdens by disposing of one of the steamers. And to take the grace of a virture out of what was almost a necessity, some of the shareholders viewed their retiring manager with condescension and said:—“Give him a chance; let him have the boat to see what he can do for himself.” So Musgrave got the Madeline, a handy, modern boat of over 2500 tons, named after his only daughter as a compliment to him five years before. Musgrave collected enough cargo to give a look of genuine freight and business to the boat while she was loading, and Captain Hermann helped to make draught by taking all of the water he safely could, into convenient parts of her. Except foxappearances, on insurance account, they wanted no cargo. Every ton put on board was an encumbrance and added to the risks of the undertaking. When the Madeline steamed easily down the Thames bound nominally for Rio Janeiro, she hail every appearance of being as well-found and honest a trading steamer as ever carried a house-flag. But the piece of deep-blue bunting beai-ing the large yellow M which fluttered at her main truck, and her freshly painted funnel with a deep black band, top and bottom, and stonecoloured body, bearing a clear and massive letter M~ on each side—standing for Madeline or Mtxsgrave were new, and caused many a speculation as to whose the steamer might be. Hermann knew his business as well as any man who ever paced a steamer’s bridge, and knew just as well how to get any work connected with his steamer, done by the time and in the way he wanted. When, therefore, the Madeline had been six days out. she had become another craft. Her funnel was dark blue with a single black band at the top. Her hxxll was glossy black with a good breath of bright salmon-pink curving away above the water line. At each side of the bow, in large yellow letters stood out the name Sicilian, and on the sweep of the stern were neatly picked out the words: —Sicilian, London. "Wonder if Musgrave would know us if he came alongside now.” chuckled Hermann to his second officer, as they stood on. the bridge watching a couple of men who were painting the forward winch. “Not he! And nobody else either. Takes a keen eye to see through a new suit of ship’s clothes,” laughed the second, with a glance at the newly painted funnel. Instead of 6teaining west for Rio, the Sicilian took a southerly course. Crossing the line, she worked down southward, past Ascension and St. Helena, and then bent south-east for the Cape of Good Hope. In another ten days she was well round the Cape on a straight N.E. by E. course across the Indian ocean. The Sicilian was never meant to go within a couple of thousand miles of Rio on that trip. Musgrave had made up such papers as Hermann would require and had given them to him with. letters of consignment to two Colombo agencies. The Sicilian was steered to Colombo, and the cargo landed on consignment for the new British Trading Company of London, to await the arrival of an agent who was said to be following by the first mail steamer. Picking up what cargo he could find tliafhe might show a clean face in port and make a few extra pounds on his own account, Hermann put the Sicilian on a north-westerly coui-se, under full steam for Bombay. Dick Fairbum. first officer of the Leonidas, stood on the end of the bundar at Bombay, talking with Joe Gregorv, captain of the Andromache, and Charlie Danson, chief engineer of the Biirman. Their steamers happened to be in port together, and Dick and Joe, two old chums of Uppingham School, had met for the first time for six years. They had 6pent a dav together on shoi-e, had fallen in with Charlie during the afternoon, and had been taking a few turns on the bundar before parting for the night. Suddenly Dick became silent and looked intently at a steamer with a blue funnel and black smokeband, lying out in the harbour.* What s up Dick?” said Joe Gregory, seeing that something had taken his old comrade’s attention. “I’d bet six month’s pay that that’s my old sjiip,” said Dick, pointing to the steamer. “That’s the Sicilian, a London boat; I saw her name as we came ashore,” said Gregory. “It’s the Madeline if the Madeline’s afloat. I ought to know her,” Dick said dogmatically. "Well, what does it matter?” Dick turned to Gregory, with a queer, sheepish smile which changed in an instant to a look of furious wrath. “What in heaven’s name’s up, Dick'” said Gregory, struck by the change which had come over his old mate. The look of anger melted and the look of sheepish confusion came hack to the face of Dick Eairburn. He stood like some school-boy who had been the victim of a mean trick and knew it.

“Queer that we should meet here at Bombay, Joe, after so long, and this thing crop up, 7 ' he said with feeling. “You’ll say I’m a fool, but I don't mind telling you,” he added, as he stopped and looked down at his boots. “Go on, man,” said Gregory, impatient. Dick looked up again. He wa6 red as the setting sun on a wild March day. "Five rears ago,” he began unsteadily, “I joined that boat us 'second/ She belonged to a new company, tile North Brazilian Shipping Company. The manager was named Henry Musgrave. He used often to come on the boat, and would bring his wife and daughter and others to see her. Once, he went with us to Monte Video and took liis daughter. I was ‘first’ then. She was interested in everything about the ship, and I had to tell her all about the compass and the navigation. And, by heaven, before we got back to London—they came back with us—that girl was dead gone on me—” "And you?” interrupted Gregory. “Was deader gone on her. 'Pon my life: I couldn’t help it, Joe; she was such a 'merry lass, you would have fallen in love with her yourself.’’ "What was her name?” “Madeline—Madeline Musgrave. This ship was called after her.” * “Why didn’t you marry her?” asked Gregory laughing. Dick frowned. “Maybe I will yet. Her father said I wasn t good enough for her. It was through that I left the ship.” “Did she care for you?” asked Charlie Danson. his eyes twinkling with the fun of the thing. "Aye, os much as anv girl ever did for a fellow.” “Then Fd marry her,” said Charlie, decisively. W "That s the Aladeline, I’ll swear,” said Dick looking again at the steamer with the blue funnel. ‘‘You’re wrong,” said Charlie. “That’s the Sicilian sure enough, and I’d nearly bet a month’s pay she ,\yas Charnley’s Jungfrau four years ago ago. 1 know her bow and deck lines forward.” "I ll bet you five sovereigns that a year ago that boat was the Madeline. Will you take it!” said Dick, eagerly. “I will.” replied Charlie, laughing. Done.” We 11 soon settle that. Here’s one of her boats,” said Joe, briskly. A newly-painted captain’s gig bearing the name Sicilian was coming to the landing. In a minute Captain Paul Hermann stepped ashore. “Captain: what steamer is that?” said Gregory to Hermann. “Sicilian of London.” "Wasn’t she the Madeline?” Hermann staggered, but only for an instant. No, she .wasn’t. She’s the Sicilian.” Betore you had her she was the MadeIme, said Dick Fairbum, coolly. ’ Then you know a d sight more about lier than I do and I'm. her captain. I sav she s the Sicilian. If you don’t believe it take that boat and knock vour head against her bows and open vour eves and see. growled Hermann. “By heaven, I will. Come on, Joe; come on. Charlie. I 11 prove it in five minutes,” said Dick luirburn stepping lightlv into Hermann s gig. Joe Gregory whispered to Paul Hermann that the other two had a bet on as to the identity ot the steamer, adding; “We’ll take your offer, captain, and row round her bows. Seeing will be believing. We’ll make it all right over a glass and pipe on the Dromache yonder, if vou’ll come aboard to-morrow night.” “Here. Row those fellows to the devil ” snapped Hermann to the crew of gig. • Danson and Joe Gregorv stenn^d into the boat and she was pushed off. Ihe tour oars dipped and she shot quietly through the still water. Hermann stood on the quay red with rage. He would have hailed the boat and brought, her back, but somehow he dared »ot. One of the three strangers who had gone in her wae evidently a captain, and the other two were officers. It would have looked bad to bring the boat back. And one of the three was suspicious as it was. Reproaching himself for his foHv in telling this man to go in his own boat‘and see the ship, he walked to and fro the quay, a strange feeling of impending'niißcbief creeping over him. “There you are,” said Charlie Danson as the boat shot np to the bow of the enough"-” Isn't fihat plain X 0 ’’' aaswered Dick Fairbum, dog“Oh, well, if that isn't good enough I What more can you have?” 111 show you. Pull to the ladder, boys, said Dick authoritatively. , Tll , e boat's head was turned and a couple der r ° ke9 PUt her alongside of the lad-r-,aSom,& on! ” eaid Dick, grasping the ladoor and mounting quickly. D,l U fii a v a ( . n7inutc . Bick Fairbum stood on the deck of the Sicilian. In less than a minute more Joe Gregory and Charlie Dansen stood beside him. The deck hands came round, looked at the strange officers and exchanged glances. "It’s all right, men. Your captain sent IMek b FVrK "'Y e a survey,” said Dick Fairbum to the men, who stood wishoverboard! 1 t 0 pitch the intrud^ .on C °t n h?s wav/ ?Ptain ’ and ’ V ° U ’ Mr Dan ’ Dick Fairburn walked towards the midship deck house, the other two and some ?l fbip s hands following. Entering „ s _ tar ,board alley-way he walked on until he reached the fourth door on the port K and ’ There was a little plate bearing the words I irst officer ’ over the door Dick grasped the handle; turned it and ? a '‘* ? g PUSh V The door opened inwards. A coat hung from a rail, and other article l ’ mnnf Acros3 . tk e narrow end of the loom there was a short seat. „.RL C K Fairbum entered the room and walked to the seat and sat down. Joe Gregory and Charlie Danson followed him “For nearljy three years this was mv said Dick. “When I got sweet on Hke de to n hJ o^ graVe 1 \ ho i ,ght 1 would like to have her name before me when I was sitting in here. So I did this: see.”

He stepped to the other end of fv. / ■ and placed one hand upon each raised panel on the space bv With a light, upward jerk, the away in his hands. On the which the panel had covered was „ 1 the word:— s “Madeline,” I in clear, but quaint letters. I "There! I earned that when I w, c ■ officer of this ship, the Madeline four years ago. If that isn’t proof (SB can take the sovereigns, Charlie” Dick, replacing the panel on the’ lim lil ß concealed hook which supported it and v’B the revered name from an idle gaze U “ d B Dick led the way from the through the men who now thronged a 1 alley-way, and made for the ladder Tv*■ boat was still alongside. ' “Come on; let us get ashore,” he said I turning to Gregory and Danson, who»«.:B behind him. ®f?B In five minutes they were being rnn ..,B to the quay. '“B "How long has that ship been the Siri I liau?” said Dick Fairburn to the ras £'| when they were close to the landing. “This voyage,” answered the mate with I out thinking. * “There you are. What about the fiml sovereigns?” said Dick with a laueh 1. 1 Charlie Danson. r ’ 1 “Here: take them,” replied Charlie u I his hand slid to his pocket. c | “Oh, blow it! Keep them for smokes, I That’s the Madeline, my old boat; thatVl the point,” said Dick ns he rose and! sprang on to the landing. "S ***** 'MB In looking over the first newspaper which ■ came into his hand after the Leonidas! reached London, Dick Fairburn’s eye fin! upon a list of missing vessels. Fourth in! the list was the name of the Madeline, of! London, owner, Henry Musgrave. * S Like a lightning flash the truth about I the Sicilian broke upon Dick’s mind. Bel knew that the Madeline was not lost 8 though missing under her old name, un-| questionably she was. He had left Leri out there at Bombay safe and sound, and I known as the Sicilian. He saw; that g | rascally game was being played and tiutt I the prime mover in it was Henry Mm-1 grave, the man who sconihd him when he f had loved his daughter and she hadVedg him in return. Dick Fairburn’s first impulse was to take a cab for Bow street or the undsr writers’, and inform them that the Ilia,feline was afloat, all taut and trim. Thin a thought checked him. If he did that, Musgrave would be prosecuted and ruined and then what would become of tbs'girl he loved? He might marry her, truly, but he would be marrying a felon j daughter. No, that would not do. Early on the following morning, Dick Fairburn was ushered into Henry Musgrave’s private room. He waited patiently 1 until the owner of the Madeline thought proper to give him an audience. "Well: what’s your business?” said Musgrave curtly, as he recognised the old firstofficer of the Madeline. “To save you trouble, Mr Musgrave," said Dick sternly. “What do you mean?”'' “What about the Madeline?” “Don’t you know that she’s missing?" Musgrave’s voice was unsteady. It betrayed him. “No more missing than you are. and yon know- it. " Musgrave blanched. “How?—where is she?” he stammered. “Out at Bombay as the Sicilian, on» very pretty frolic-. She’s a blue funnel withblack top; black hull, pink on water line; Paul Hermann, master, and partner with you in as nice a bit of villainy as WBB ever attempted on the seas. You are claiming for total loss here, aren’t you? and he’S trying to -sell the ship there. Shall I bring you witnesses as to the identity of the ship?” y/y Musgrave was dumfoundered. His fnoO twitched nervously and its colour came and weut. At last he broke down, utterly. “Don’t give us away Fairburndon’t,” he faltered piteously. . ( “Oh, you’re run down. It is a ease far law. You’ve done it,” said Dick severely. “No, no, Fairburn. For heaven’s sake don’t give us away. For my wife’s sake —for my daughter’s sake, don’t! Think of them; of Madeline.” . -! “Of Madeline!” "■ “Yes. Yon cared for her once, and 1 thought you wanted to to honourablv—” ‘ A: “What?” “Marry her.” j “I did, and you spumed me. I waant good enough for you.” “No, no, Fairbum. You’re wrong.. Its a mistake. See; will you have her?” “And compound a felony?” “Oh, no; you’re unreasonable. I anJV will you have her now?” “Are you willing for me to have her?:.® “Cer—tainly.” 3|§l “And you’ll report that the ship is.au,; right ?” Musgrave paused. . , / “Oh, curse it ! No, not that, Fairburn. If you only knew.' I’ve staked all oil tiuf venture," he said in dspair. T 5 “Then you’re in for a total loss. me have Madeline; report the ship as saw and I’ll keep off.” T Musgrave hung his head and was eiienv. for a minute. “No, no, Fairburn; for heaven s sane take the girl, and let me settle the rest, he urged pitifully. He was utterly helpless now. , i “No. Report the ship safe or it a labour for Hermann and you, insists “Make any .other terms. Do, s|||j burn.” /■ . "No—no—no! No other!” ® “Then take Madeline. Take her,, cur* ; you ! Treat her well. ’ I’m ruined. -p^j|