Part 34 (1/2)

”I'm going to see you hanged shortly, you drunken beast,” he said, ”but in the mean while you may as well get sober for a change, and explain things up a bit.”

Cranze swung his legs out of the bunk and sat up. He was feeling very tottery, and the painfulness of his head did not improve his temper.

”Look here,” he said, ”I've had enough of your airs and graces. I've paid for my pa.s.sage on this rubbishy old water-pusher of yours, and I'll trouble you to keep a civil tongue in your head, or I'll report you to your owners. You are like a railway guard, my man. After you have seen that your pa.s.sengers have got their proper tickets, it's your duty to--”

Mr. Cranze's connective remarks broke off here for the time being. He found himself suddenly plucked away from the bunk by a pair of iron hands, and hustled out through the state-room door. He was a tall man, and the hands thrust him from below, upward, and, though he struggled wildly and madly, all his efforts to have his own way were futile.

Captain Owen Kettle had handled far too many really strong men in this fas.h.i.+on to even lose breath over a dram-drinking pa.s.senger. So Cranze found himself hurtled out on to the lower fore-deck, where somebody handcuffed him neatly to an iron stanchion, and presently a mariner, by Captain Kettle's orders, rigged a hose, and mounted on the iron bulwark above him, and let a three-inch stream of chilly brine slop steadily on to his head.

The situation, from an onlooker's point of view, was probably ludicrous enough, but what daunted the patient was that n.o.body seemed to take it as a joke. There were a dozen men of the crew who had drawn near to watch, and yesterday all these would have laughed contemptuously at each of his contortions. But now they are all stricken to a sudden solemnity.

”Spell-o,” ordered Kettle. ”Let's see if he's sober yet.”

The man on the bulwarks let the stream from the hose flop overboard, where it ran out into a stream of bubbles which joined the wake.

Cranze gasped back his breath, and used it in a torrent of curses.

”Play on him again,” said Kettle, and selected a good black before-breakfast cigar from his pocket. He lit it with care. The man on the bulwark s.h.i.+fted his shoulder for a better hold against the derrick-guy, and swung the limp hose in-board again. The water splashed down heavily on Cranze's head and shoulders, and the onlookers took stock of him without a trace of emotion. They had most of them seen the remedy applied to inebriates before, and so they watched Cranze make his gradual recovery with the eyes of experts.

”Spell-o,” ordered Kettle some five minutes later, and once more the hose vomited sea water ungracefully into the sea. This time Cranze had the sense to hold his tongue till he was spoken to. He was very white about the face, except for his nose, which was red, and his eye had brightened up considerably. He was quite sober, and quite able to weigh any words that were dealt out to him.

”Now,” said Kettle judicially, ”what have you done with Mr. Hamilton?”

”Nothing.”

”You deny all knowledge of how he got overboard?”

Cranze was visibly startled. ”Of course I do. Is he overboard?”

”He can't be found on this s.h.i.+p. Therefore he is over the side.

Therefore you put him there.”

Cranze was still more startled. But he kept himself in hand. ”Look here,” he said, ”what rot! What should I know about the fellow? I haven't seen him since last night.”

”So you say. But I don't see why I should believe you. In fact, I don't.”

”Well, you can suit yourself about that, but it's true enough. Why in the name of mischief should I want to meddle with the poor beggar? If you're thinking of the bit of a sc.r.a.p we had yesterday, I'll own I was full at the time. And so must he have been. At least I don't know why else he should have set upon me like he did. At any rate that's not a thing a man would want to murder him for.”

”No, I should say 20,000 is more in your line.”

”What are you driving at?”

”You know quite well. You got that poor fellow insured just before this trip, you got him to make a will in your favor, and now you've committed a dirty, clumsy murder just to finger the dollars.”

Cranze broke into uncanny hysterical laughter. ”That chap insured; that chap make a will in my favor? Why, he hadn't a penny. It was me that paid for his pa.s.sage. I'd been on the tear a bit, and the Jew fellow I went to about raising the wind did say something about insuring, I know, and made me sign a lot of law papers. They made out I was in such a chippy state of health that they'd not let me have any more money unless I came on some beastly dull sea voyage to recruit a bit, and one of the conditions was that one of the boys was to come along too and look after me.”

”You'll look pretty foolish when you tell that thin tale to a jury.”

”Then let me put something else on to the back of it. I'm not Cranze at all. I'm Hamilton. I've been in the papers a good deal just recently, because I'd been flinging my money around, and I didn't want to get stared at on board here. So Cranze and I swapped names, just to confuse people. It seems to have worked very well.”

”Yes,” said Kettle, ”it's worked so well that I don't think you'll get a jury to believe that either. As you don't seem inclined to make a clean breast of it, you can now retire to your room, and be restored to your personal comforts. I can't hand you over to the police without inconvenience to myself till we get to New Orleans, so I shall keep you in irons till we reach there. Steward--where's a steward? Ah, here you are. See this man is kept in his room, and see he has no more liquor. I make you responsible for him.”