Part 18 (1/2)
”They have plenty. They've been packed in a bulkhead, but Fleming and Caine gave them out to the men this morning.”
”The deuce! That looks ugly. They must be getting ready for business soon. If Caine approaches you again, fall in with his plans. Find out all you can, especially what men we can rely on. That will do.”
”Yes, sir.”
As soon as the man had gone the captain turned to me with a fighting gleam in his quiet eyes.
”Well, Jack, it's worse by a devilish lot than I had thought. We're in for mutiny. I wouldn't ask for anything better than a turn with these wharf rats if it weren't for the ladies. But with them aboard it's different. Wish I knew when Mr. Caine intends to set the match to the powder.”
”What's the matter with my going down into the men's quarters and having a look around? I might stumble on some information worth while.”
He shook his head.
”No, thanks. I need my second officer. If he went down there an accident might happen to him--due to a fall down the stairway or something of the sort.”
”Then let me send Jimmie. n.o.body would pay any attention to him. He could go into their quarters without suspicion.”
”It would be safe enough for him at present. Why not? Don't tell him too much, Jack.”
”Trust me.”
Jimmie jumped at the chance to go sleuthing again. I had told him a yarn about suspecting some of the men had whisky concealed in the s.h.i.+p.
He was away less than half an hour, but when he came back it was with a piece of news most alarming.
”Mr. Sedgwick,” he gasped, ”you remember that big, black-faced guy you set me trailing in 'Frisco--Captain what's-his-name--well, he's on this s.h.i.+p sure as I'm a foot high!”
My heart lost a beat. ”Certain of that, Jimmie?”
”Yep, it's a lead-pipe cinch. Saw him in the engine room talking to Mr.
Fleming. When he seen me Mr. Fleming called me to come down. But not for Jimmie. He took a swift hike up the stairs.”
The boy was all excitement. For that matter so was I, though I concealed it better. If Bothwell were on board the s.h.i.+p as a stowaway the aspect of affairs was more serious even than we had thought.
”You're sure it was Captain Bothwell, Jimmie?”
”Say, would I know me own mother? Would I know Jim Jeffries or Battling Nelson if I got an eyeful of them walking down Market Street? Would I be sure of the Chronicle Building if I set my peepers on it? Betcherlife.”
”How was he dressed?”
”In sailors' slops. Didn't have on any coat. Wasn't right sure of him at first, 'cause he's run a lawn mower over them whiskers of his. But this guy's the original Bothwell all right, all right.”
”Jimmie, listen to me. Don't whisper a word of this. Do you hear?”
”I'm a clam.”
”And don't go exploring in that end of the s.h.i.+p again. Captain Bothwell would as soon wring your neck as a chicken's, my boy. Keep away from the forecastle.”