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25 chapters
CHAPTER I. I PLAN A VOYAGE
CHAPTER I. I PLAN A VOYAGE
By the bequest of an elder brother, I was left enough money to see me through a small college in Ohio, and to secure me four years in a medical school in the East. Why I chose medicine I hardly know. Possibly the career of a surgeon attracted the adventurous element in me. Perhaps, coming of a family of doctors, I merely followed the line of least resistance. It may be, indirectly but inevitably, that I might be on the yacht Ella on that terrible night of August 12, more than a year ago. I got t
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CHAPTER II. THE PAINTED SHIP
CHAPTER II. THE PAINTED SHIP
The Ella had been a coasting-vessel, carrying dressed lumber to South America, and on her return trip bringing a miscellaneous cargo—hides and wool, sugar from Pernambuco, whatever offered. The firm of Turner and Sons owned the line of which the Ella was one of the smallest vessels. The gradual elimination of sailing ships and the substitution of steamers in the coasting trade, left the Ella, with others, out of commission. She was still seaworthy, rather fast, as such vessels go, and steady. Ma
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CHAPTER III. I UNCLENCH MY HANDS
CHAPTER III. I UNCLENCH MY HANDS
From the first the captain disclaimed responsibility for me. I was housed in the forecastle, and ate with the men. There, however, my connection with the crew and the navigation of the ship ended. Perhaps it was as well, although I resented it at first. I was weaker than I had thought, and dizzy at the mere thought of going aloft. As a matter of fact, I found myself a sort of deck-steward, given the responsibility of looking after the shuffle-board and other deck games, the steamer-rugs, the car
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CHAPTER IV. I RECEIVE A WARNING
CHAPTER IV. I RECEIVE A WARNING
The odor of formaldehyde in the forecastle having abated, permission for the crew to sleep on deck had been withdrawn. But the weather as we turned south had grown insufferably hot. The reek of the forecastle sickened me—the odor of fresh paint, hardly dry, of musty clothing and sweaty bodies. I asked Singleton, the first mate, for permission to sleep on deck, and was refused. I went down, obediently enough, to be driven back with nausea. And so, watching my chance, I waited until the first mate
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CHAPTER V. A TERRIBLE NIGHT
CHAPTER V. A TERRIBLE NIGHT
With the disappearance of Schwartz, the Ella was short-handed: I believe Captain Richardson made an attempt to secure me to take the place of Burns, now moved up into Schwartz’s position. But the attempt met with a surly refusal from Turner. The crew was plainly nervous and irritable. Sailors are simple-minded men, as a rule; their mental processes are elemental. They began to mutter that the devil-ship of the Turner line was at her tricks again. That afternoon, going into the forecastle for som
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CHAPTER VI. IN THE AFTER HOUSE
CHAPTER VI. IN THE AFTER HOUSE
The match burnt out, and I dropped it. I remember mechanically extinguishing the glowing end with my heel, and then straightening to such a sense of horror as I have never felt before or since. I groped for the door; I wanted air, space, the freedom from lurking death of the open deck. I had been sleeping with my revolver beside me on the pantry floor. Somehow or other I got back there and found it. I made an attempt to find the switch for the cabin lights, and, failing, revolver in hand, I ran
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CHAPTER VII. WE FIND THE AXE
CHAPTER VII. WE FIND THE AXE
I went to the after companionway and called up to the men to send the first mate down; but Burns came instead. “Singleton’s sick,” he explained. “He’s up there in a corner, with Oleson and McNamara holding him.” “Burns,” I said cautiously—“I’ve found another!” “God, not one of the women!” “One of the maids—Karen.” Burns was a young fellow about my own age, and to this point he had stood up well. But he had been having a sort of flirtation with the girl, and I saw him go sick with horror. He want
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CHAPTER VIII. THE STEWARDESS’S STORY
CHAPTER VIII. THE STEWARDESS’S STORY
But, after all, the story of Henrietta Sloane only added to the mystery. She told it to me, sitting propped in a chair in Mrs. Johns’s room, her face white, her lips dry and twitching. The crew were making such breakfast as they could on deck, and Mr. Turner was still in a stupor in his room across the main cabin. The four women, drawn together in their distress, were huddled in the center of the room, touching hands now and then, as if finding comfort in contact, and reassurance. “I went to bed
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CHAPTER IX. PRISONERS
CHAPTER IX. PRISONERS
MY first thought had been for the women, and, unluckily, to save them a shock I had all evidences of the crime cleared away as quickly as possible. Stains that might have been of invaluable service in determining the murderer were washed away almost before they were dry. I realized this now, too late. But the axe remained, and I felt that its handle probably contained a record for more skillful eyes than mine to read, prints that under the microscope would reveal the murderer’s identity as clear
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CHAPTER X. “THAT’S MUTINY”
CHAPTER X. “THAT’S MUTINY”
Exactly what occurred during Elsa Lee’s visit to her brother-in-law’s cabin I have never learned. He was sober, I know, and somewhat dazed, with no recollection whatever of the previous night, except a hazy idea that he had quarreled with Richardson. Jones and I waited outside. He suggested that we have prayers over the bodies when we placed them in the boat, and I agreed to read the burial service from the Episcopal Prayer Book. The voices from Turner’s cabin came steadily, Miss Lee’s low tones
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CHAPTER XI. THE DEAD LINE
CHAPTER XI. THE DEAD LINE
Mrs. Johns and the stewardess came up late in the afternoon. We had railed off a part of the deck around the forward companionway for them, and none of the crew except the man on guard was allowed inside the ropes. After a consultation, finding the ship very short-handed, and unwilling with the night coming on to trust any of the men, Burns and I decided to take over this duty ourselves, and, by stationing ourselves at the top of the companionway, to combine the duties of officer on watch and gu
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CHAPTER XII. THE FIRST MATE TALKS
CHAPTER XII. THE FIRST MATE TALKS
Williams came up on deck late that afternoon, with a scared face, and announced that Mr. Turner had locked himself in his cabin, and was raving in delirium on the other side of the door. I sent Burns down having decided, in view of Mrs. Johns’s accusation, to keep away from the living quarters of the family. Burns’s report corroborated what Williams had said. Turner was in the grip of delirium tremens, and the Ella was without owner or officers. Turner refused to open either door for us. As well
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CHAPTER XIII. THE WHITE LIGHT
CHAPTER XIII. THE WHITE LIGHT
With the approach of night our vigilance was doubled. There was no thought of sleep among the crew, and, with the twilight, there was a distinct return of the terror of the morning. Gathered around the wheel, the crew listened while Jones read evening prayer. Between the two houses, where the deck was roped off, Miss Lee was alone, pacing back and-forward, her head bent, her arms dropped listlessly. The wind had gone, and the sails hung loose over our heads. I stood by the port rail. Although my
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CHAPTER XIV. FROM THE CROW’S NEST
CHAPTER XIV. FROM THE CROW’S NEST
The night passed without incident, except for one thing that we were unable to verify. At six bells, during the darkest hour of the night that precedes the early dawn of summer, Adams, from the crow’s-nest, called down, in a panic, that there was something crawling on all fours on the deck below him. Burns, on watch at the companionway, ran forward with his revolver, and narrowly escaped being brained—Adams at that moment flinging down a marlinespike that he had carried aloft with him. I heard t
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CHAPTER XV. A KNOCKING IN THE HOLD
CHAPTER XV. A KNOCKING IN THE HOLD
It rained heavily all that day. Late in the afternoon we got some wind, and all hands turned out to trim sail. Action was a relief, and the weather suited our disheartened state better than had the pitiless August sun, the glaring white of deck and canvas, and the heat. The heavy drops splashed and broke on top of the jolly-boat, and, as the wind came up, it rode behind us like a live thing. Our distress signal hung sodden, too wet to give more than a dejected response to the wind that tugged at
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CHAPTER XVI. JONES STUMBLES OVER SOMETHING
CHAPTER XVI. JONES STUMBLES OVER SOMETHING
I find, from my journal, that the next seven days passed without marked incident. Several times during that period we sighted vessels, all outward bound, and once we were within communicating distance of a steam cargo boat on her way to Venezuela. She lay to and sent her first mate over to see what could be done. He was a slim little man with dark eyes and a small mustache above a cheerful mouth. He listened in silence to my story, and shuddered when I showed him the jolly-boat. But we were only
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CHAPTER XVII. THE AXE IS GONE
CHAPTER XVII. THE AXE IS GONE
My first thought was of the after house. Jones, who had been fond of Burns, was working over him, muttering to himself. I felt his heart, which was beating slowly but regularly, and, convinced that he was not dying, ran down into the after house. The cabin was empty: evidently the guard around the pearl handled revolver had been given up on the false promise of peace. All the lights were going, however, and the heat was suffocating. I ran to Miss Lee’s door, and tried it. It was locked, but almo
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CHAPTER XVIII. A BAD COMBINATION
CHAPTER XVIII. A BAD COMBINATION
We picked up a pilot outside the Lewes breakwater a man of few words. I told him only the outlines of our story, and I believe he half discredited me at first. God knows, I was not a creditable object. When I took him aft and showed him the jolly-boat, he realized, at last, that he was face to face with a great tragedy, and paid it the tribute of throwing away his cigar. He suggested our raising the yellow plague flag; and this we did, with a ready response from the quarantine officer. The quara
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CHAPTER XIX. I TAKE THE STAND
CHAPTER XIX. I TAKE THE STAND
And now I come, with some hesitation, to the trial. Hesitation, because I relied on McWhirter to keep a record. And McWhirter, from his notes, appears to have been carried away at times by excitement, and either jotted down rows of unintelligible words, or waited until evening and made up his notes, like a woman’s expense account, from a memory never noticeable for accuracy. At dawn, the morning after we anchored, Charlie Jones roused me, grinning. “Friend of yours over the rail, Leslie,” he sai
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CHAPTER XX. OLESON’S STORY
CHAPTER XX. OLESON’S STORY
HENRIETTA SLOANE was called next. “Your name?” “Henrietta Sloane.” “Are you married?” “A widow.” “When and where were you born?” “Isle of Man, December 11 1872.” “How long have you lived in the United States?” “Since I was two.” “Your position on the yacht Ella?” “Stewardess.” “Before that?” “On the Baltic, between Liverpool and New York. That was how I met Mrs. Turner.” “Where was your room on the yacht Ella?” “Off the chartroom.” “Will you indicate it on this diagram?” “It was there.” (Pointin
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CHAPTER XXI. “A BAD WOMAN”
CHAPTER XXI. “A BAD WOMAN”
Charlie Jones was called first, on the second day of the trial. He gave his place of birth as Pennsylvania, and his present shore address as a Sailors’ Christian Home in New York. He offered, without solicitation, the information that he had been twenty-eight years in the Turner service, and could have been “up at the top,” but preferred the forecastle, so that he could be an influence to the men. His rolling gait, twinkling blue eyes, and huge mustache, as well as the plug of tobacco which he s
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CHAPTER XXII. TURNER’S STORY
CHAPTER XXII. TURNER’S STORY
“Your name?” “Marshall Benedict Turner.” “Your residence?” “West 106th Street, New York City.” “Your occupation?” “Member of the firm of L. Turner’s Sons, shipowners. In the coast trade.” “Do you own the yacht Ella?” “Yes.” “Do you recognize this chart?” “Yes. It is the chart of the after house of the Ella.” “Will you show where your room is on the drawing?” “Here.” “And Mr. Vail’s?” “Next, connecting through a bath-room.” “Where was Mr. Vail’s bed on the chart?” “Here, against the storeroom wal
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CHAPTER XXIII. FREE AGAIN
CHAPTER XXIII. FREE AGAIN
With the submission of the case to the jury, the witnesses were given their freedom. McWhirter had taken a room for me for a day or two to give me time to look about; and, his own leave of absence from his hospital being for ten days, we had some time together. My situation was better than it had been in the summer. I had my strength again, although the long confinement had told on me. But my position was precarious enough. I had my pay from the Ella, and nothing else. And McWhirter, with a mont
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CHAPTER XXIV. THE THING
CHAPTER XXIV. THE THING
I deserve no credit for the solution of the Ella’s mystery. I have a certain quality of force, perhaps, and I am not lacking in physical courage; but I have no finesse of intellect. McWhirter, a foot shorter than I, round of face, jovial and stocky, has as much subtlety in his little finger as I have in my six feet and a fraction of body. All the way to the river, therefore, he was poring over the drawing. He named the paper at once. “Ought to know it,” he said, in reply to my surprise. “Sold en
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CHAPTER XXV. THE SEA AGAIN
CHAPTER XXV. THE SEA AGAIN
Once more the swish of spray against the side of a ship, the tang of salt, the lift and fall of the rail against the sea-line on the horizon. And once more a girl, in white from neck to heel, facing into the wind as if she loved it, her crisp skirts flying, her hair blown back from her forehead in damp curls. And I am not washing down the deck. With all the poise of white flannels and a good cigar, I am lounging in a deck-chair, watching her. Then— “Come here!” I say. “I am busy.” “You are not b
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