VANDERDECKEN

Sun (Auckland), Volume II, Issue 526, 1 December 1928, Page 21

VANDERDECKEN

—► uy

H. DE VERE STACPOOLE.

CHAPTER XX. “Right," said Cancan, “and now, i£ you'll take that stylograpkic pen 1 see sticking out ot your vest pocket and give's a bit of paper, we’ll iraw the contract.” , , Ilank produced the pen and an ,old bill, on the back of which the “contract" was made out under the terms of which Candon was to receive five thousand dollars and a set ashore after the Dutchman had been brought safe aboard the Wear Jack; also he was to take the expedition to the spot where, to the best of his belief, was cached the Dutchman’s plunder. This done, Candon went back to his engine cleaning, having produced and handed over to Hank four ten-dollar uotes. , , . “I’ll want a toothbrush and a couple ,of shirts and a couple of suits of pyjamas." said he. “Maybe, as I can t get ashore, you’ll get them for me, all my truck’s on board the Heai t. “Bud ” said Hank tc his partner that night, “I hope to the Lord we ain’t stung. Suppose the chaps some practical joker put on us by Barrett, or the boys at the Club. "Nonsense!” said George. 1 Where d be the sense? Besides, the chaps genuine. You have only to look at his The week before the sailing of the Wear Jack was a busy time for the Fisher Syndicate, and business was not i expedited owing to the fact that Candon had to be kept hidden. The redbearded one seemed happy euough, spending most of his time m the engine room smoking cigarettes. At nights, safe with Hank in the saloon, his mind disclosed itself in his conversation. No. this was no wasp let in on them by Barrett or the club boys, the mind of Candon as revealed to Hank was as free from crookedness as the eyes through which it looked, and on most topics, from the League of Nations to Ella Wheeler Wilcox, it was sound. \nd it was not unlike the nnnd of Hank It was self-educated, and their enthusiasms, from the idea of Universal Brotherhood to the idea ot the sanctity of womanhood, matched m< Candon, from what one could gather, had been a rolling stone, like Hank, but he gave little away about himself and he was quite frank about it. "I’d just as soon forget myself,” said he "I’ve been in a good many mixups and I've missed a fortune twice through by own fault; but I’ve come through with all my teeth and no stomach worries, and we ll leave it at that.” • Barrett's stores came on board and were stowed, and Hank, through a boardinghouse keeper, got his crew, four Chinamen all of the same tong, all Lees, and bossed by a gentleman

rejoicing in the name of Lee Wong Juu. Champagne Charley, Hank labelled him. They came tripping on board with their chests the night before starting, vanished like sharks down the foc’sle hatch, and were seen no more. Hank, standing on the deck with George, heaved a sigh of contentment. “Well, that’s done,” said he; “there's nothing more to take on board, and we're all ready for the pull out in the morning.” “What time do you propose to start?” asked the other. “Sun up. Barrett has got it into his head, somehow, we’re going at noon. I didn’t tell you, but I got wind he’d arranged for a tug with a brass band to lead us out and Josh us—can you see his face when he finds us gone?” They went below where the cabin lamp was lit, with Candon reading a newspaper under it. “The Chinks are come,” said Hank, taking his seat at the table, and fetching out his pipe. "There’s nothing more to come in but the mud-hook. Well, how do you feel now we re starting?” “Bully,” said Candon; “I was beginning to feel like a caged canary. You chaps don’t know what it’s been the last week—well, let’s get finished, there’s some truck still to be stowed in the after cabin, and I want to do a bit more tinkering at the engine. There’s a day’s work on that engine —them cylinder rings were sure made in Hades.” “Well, you can leave it,” said Hank. “I’m putting out at sun up. I don’t count on that engine and you’ll have time to tinker her up on the way

down.” He stopped suddenly, raised his head and held up a finger. The night was warm and the skylight full open. In the dead silence that fell on the cabin they could hear through the open skylight the far-away rattle of a cargo winch working under the electrics, the w'histle of a ferry boat and away, far away, though great as the voice of Behemoth, the boo of a deep sea steamer’s siren. “Yes,” began Hank again, gliding to the door of the saloon as he spoke, “you can tinker it on the way down.” He vanished and the others, taking his cue, kept up the talk. Then they heard him pounce. "What are you doing here?” “Hullo! Me? I ain’t doin’ northen—what you gettin’ at? You lea’ me go.” > “What you doing here, you scowhunker? Answer up before I scrag you.” “Tell you I was doing northen. I dropped aboard to see -if I couldn’t borra’ a light, seeing the shine of your skylight.” “I’ll give you a light!” Then they heard the quite distinctive sounds of a man being kicked off the ship, blasphemous threats from the wharfside —silence. A minute later Hank appeared, his lean face lit with the light of battle. “Popped my head on deck,” said Plank, “and saw a chap on the wharfside —I’ll swear it was Jake. He bit, and then I saw a chap hunched down by the skylight. You heard me kicking him off.” “Who’s Jake?” asked Candon, who had taken his seat again at the table. “Watchman I fired for handing me lies more’n a fortnight ago.” “Well,” said Candon, “the other chap w r as Mullins, if I have ears on my head.” “Who’s Mullins?” “Black Mullins, McGinnis's left hand. Boys, we’ve gotta get out. How’s the wind?” “Nor-west,” said Hank.

“And there's a moon. Boys, we’ve gotta get right out now, get the whaleboat over, and the Chinks ready for a tow clear of the wharf. Let’s see —the whole of Heart crowd will be over at Tiburon, the old Heart will be in dry dock, for she'd started a butt, and there’s weeks work on her, so they won’t be able to use her rt> chase us for another fortnight. Get me? Well, see now, that guy will be back in Tiburon somewhere about two hours or more, and he’ll rouse the hive. He’ll have Seen me lookin’ down through the skylight, and he’ll know you’re starting to-morrow. Not having a ship to chase us, they’ll board us, and you’ll have a boatload of gunmen alongside somewhere about two in the morning.” “You mean to say they’ll board us” cried George. “Yep.” “But what about the police?” “Police? —nothing. Why. they’d/lo the swoop in a quick ’ launch before the bulls had begun to remember they weren’t awake.” “Well, let’s notify the police, and have an ambush ready for them.” "Not me,” said Candon. “I don’t want to have any dealings with the law. Why, if McGinnis and his crowd were taken, they’d swear Lord knows what about me. Besides, I’m not friends with the bulls. I’m no crook, I’ve never looked inside a gaol, but I’ve seen enough good men done in by the law to make me shy of it.” “But see here,” said Hank, "I can’t take her out at night. I don’t know the lights. I’d pile her up sure.” “I’ll take her out,” said Candon. “I’d take her out with my eyes shut. It’s near full moon, and we’ll have the ebb. What more do you want?” Hank turned to George. “Let’s get out,” said George. “We don’t want a mix-up with those guys. If we get piled, why, we have the boat.” Hank turned to Candon. “You’re sure you can do it?” “Sure.” “Then kim on,” said Hank. He led the way on deck. The wharf was deserted. To the left of them lay the bay, silver under the moonlight and spangled here and there with the lights of shipping at anchor. While Hank trimmed the side lights and Candon attended to the binnacle light, George went forward to rouse out the Chinks. Ho found them finishing their supper. Leo Wong Juu was their cook as well as boss; he had lit the galley stove on his own initiative and made tea. They had brought provisions enough for supper. Their chests were arranged in order; everything was in applepie trim, and as they sat on their bunk sides with their tin mugs in their hands and their glabrous faces slewed round on the intruder, they looked not unlike a company of old maids at a tea party. George gave his order and they rose, put away their mugs, and followed him on deck. The whaleboat had cost Hank

| ninety-five dollars, second-hand. It was not a real whaleboat either In size, make or fittings, but good enough for their purpose, carvel built, four-oared, with tins fixed between the thwarts to help float her in case of a capsize. Candon was standing by the boat as George came on deck. In the rapid moments that had come on them since the spy had been kicked off the ship Candon had gradually gained supremacy, without effort, one might say. The man had arisen aud was rising to the emergency like a swimmer on a wave, bearing the others with him. He was giving orders now quietly and without fuss. They got the boat afloat with the four Chinks In her, and the tow rope having been fixed, Candon got into her, having cast off the mooring ropes, and Hank took the wheel of the schooner. George, standing silent beside Hank, heard the creak and splash of the oars, and then came the chug and groan of the tow-rope tightening, then slowly, almost imperceptibly the bowsprit of the Wear Jack began to veer away from the wharf, and now to port and starboard lay the glittering harbour water and astern the long line 'of the wharves began to show with the electrics blazing here and there where they were working cargo overtimd? As the wharves receded, they stole into a world of new sounds and lights. San Francisco began tcf show her jewellery, glittering ribbons of electrics, crusts of gems;* on the port bow the lights of Oakland far across the water answered to the light of San Francisco and across the scattered silver, ferry boats showed like running jewels. The wind from the north-west came steady and filled with the breath of the unseen sea. “Lord!” said Hank,” “how much further is he taking us; seems like as if he were making for Oakland.” “He knows what he is doing,” said George. “Sure.” They held on. A Chinese junk passed with her latteen sail bellying to the wind, and then came along a yacht, lit and riotous as a Casino, with a jazz band playing “Swanee.” It passed aud the great quietude of the night resumed, and still the tow kept on. Then came a voice from alongside; Candon had cast off the rope and was coming aboard. To George just in that moment the

whole scene u and circumstance came as an impression never to be forgotten; the silence following the cast off of the rope, the vast harbour surface glittering like a ballroom floor, where the helpless Wear Jack lay adrift, the lights of ’Frisco and the lights of Oakland and the secrecy and necessity for dispatch lest, drifting as they were, they should be side-swiped by some Bay boat in a hurry. But he had little time for thought. Candon was on board, the boat ..was got in and the slack of the tow-rope, and Candon at the w 7 heel began to give his orders with speed but without hurry. The mainsail rose slatting against the stars, then the foresail. A Chink cast the gaskets off the jib, while the Wear Jack, trembling like an undecided and frightened thing, seemed to calm down and take heart. The slatting of the canvas ceased; they were under way. Candon seemed steering Oakland. then the Oakland lights swung to starbpard and passed nearly astern. They were making for Alcatraz. The lights of San Francisco were now to port and the city showed immense, heaving itself against the moonlight; Nobs Hill, Telegraph Hill, Russian Hill all ablaze beneath the moon, slashed with lines of light. Away beyond Angel Island showed the lights of Tiburon.

Right under Alcatraz, Candon put the helm hard over; the canvas threshed and filled again, and the Wear Jack settled down on her new tack heading for the Presidio. Close in. the helm went over again, the canvas fought the wind, and then filled on the tack for Lime Point, the northern gatepost of the Golden Gate. The breath of the sea now came strong, spray came inboard from the meeting of wind and ebb tide and the Wear Jack began to thrash at the tumble coming in from the bar. Under Lime Point she came about on the port tack, taking the middle passage. Then beyond Pont Bonito came the tumble of the bar. The wind was not more than a steady sailing breeze, but the long rollers coming in from Japan gave them all the trouble they wanted though the Wear Jack. proving her good quality, shipped scarcely a bucketful. Then the sea smoothed down to a glossy breeze-spangled swell and the schooner with the loom of the land far on her port quarter, spread her wings beneath the moon for the South. CHAPTER XII. —OUT. Candon handed the wheel over to Hank. “Well, we re out,” said he. “Keep her as she goes, the coast’s a straight line down to Point San Pedro, and I don't want to clear it by more than ten miles.” He lit a pipe and walked to the port rail, where he stood with the pipe in his mouth and his hands on the rail looking at the land. George stood beside him. The crew had vanished to the foc’sle now that everything was comfortable, leaving the deck to the three white men, no watches had been picked nor was

there a look-out. George remarked on the fact and Camion laughed. “I’d just as soon leave the Chinks below.” said he, “and run her ourselves for the rest of the watch, half a man could handle her as the wind is, aud as for a look-out, why, I reckon nothing could sink us to-night. Boys I’m sure bughouse. I never 100 k a ship out of ’Frisco bay before two hours ago.” “You what!” said George. “What I'm telling you. H came on me to do it, and X did it. I’ve been in aud out often enough, but never at the wheel nor navigating. I had .the lay of the place in my head but it was a near touch.” Hank at tho wheel gave a laugh that sounded like a cough. “I felt it in my bones,” said Hank. “What?” asked Candon. “Why, that you were driving out half blind; as near as paint you had us on to Alcatraz and you all but rammed the Presidio. I was standing on my toes wanting to yell ‘Put your helm over,’ but I kept my head shut, didn’t want to rattle you.” “Bughouse, clean bughouse," said Candon. “Makes me sweat in the palm of my hands now I’ve done it, but I tell yru. boys, I couldn’t have missed. Going by night like that one can’t judge distance and as for the lights, they’d better have been away, but I couldn’t have missed, I was so certain sure of myself. It comes on me like that at times, I get lifted above myself, somehow or another.” “I’m the same way myself,” said Hank; “it comes on me as if I got light-headed and I’m never far wrong it I let myself go. Bud here will tell you I rushed this expedition through more by instinct than anything else—didn’t I, Bud?” Bud assented, unenthusiastically. George Harley du Cane, out and away now with the Pacific beneath him and his eyes fixed on the far-oft loom of the land, was thinking. He had recognised, even before starting, that Hank and Candon were, tempermentally, pretty much birds of the same feather, not only had their discussions, as to socialism and so foigli seemed to him pretty equally crazy, but he had recognised, in a dim sort of manner that they infected each other and that their “bughouse” qualities were not diminished by juxtaposition. However, safe in port, the sanity or insanity of his companions expressed only in conversation about abstract and uninteresting affairs did not seem to matter. But out here it was different, somehow, especially after the exhibition Candon had just given them of daring carried to the limits of craziness. And who was Candon, anyhow? A likeable man, sure enough, but the confessed associate of more than shady characters, and they had accepted this man on his face value, as a pilot in an adventure that was sure to be dangerous considering the character of the man they were out to hunt. M (To be continued.)