Part 34 (1/2)
”It drove our lot overboard,” insisted Slade. ”Do you think we were a pack of cowards? I tell you, when that h.e.l.lish thing broke loose, you had to go. It wasn't fear. It wasn't pain. It was--What's the use. You can't explain a thing like that.”
”We certainly saw the glow the night Billy Edwards was--disappeared,”
mused Forsythe.
”And again, night before last,” said the captain.
”What's that!” cried Slade. ”Where is the _Laughing La.s.s_?”
”I'd give something pretty to know,” said Barnett.
”Isn't she in tow?”
”In tow?” said Forsythe. ”No, indeed. We hadn't adequate facilities for towing her. Didn't you tell him, Mr. Barnett?”
”Where is she, then?” Slade fired the question at them like a cross- examiner.
”Why, we s.h.i.+pped another crew under Ives and McGuire that noon. We were parted again, and haven't seen them since.”
”G.o.d forgive you!” said the reporter. ”After the warnings you'd had, too.
It was--it was--”
”My orders, Mr. Slade,” said Captain Parkinson, with quiet dignity.
”Of course, sir. I beg your pardon,” returned the other. ”But--you say you saw the light again?”
”The first night they were out,” said Barnett, in a low voice.
”Then your second crew is with your first crew,” said Slade, shakily. ”And they're with Thrackles, and Pulz and Solomon, and many another black- hearted scoundrel and brave seaman. Down there!”
He pointed under foot. Captain Parkinson rose and went to his cabin. Slade rose, too, but his knees were unsteady. He tottered, and but for the swift aid of Barnett's arm, would have fallen.
”Overdone,” said Dr. Trendon, with some irritation. ”Cost you something in strength. Foolish performance. Turn in now.”
Slade tried to protest, but the surgeon would not hear of it, and marched him incontinently to his berth. Returning, Trendon reported, with growls of discontent, that his patient was in a fever.
”Couldn't expect anything else,” he fumed. ”Pack of human interrogation points hounding him all over the place.”
”What do you think of his story?” asked Forsythe.
The grizzled surgeon drew out a cigar, lighted it, took three deliberate puffs, turned it about, examined the ash end with concentration, and replied:
”Man's telling a straight story.”
”You think it's all true?” cried Forsythe.
”Humph!” grunted the other. ”_He thinks it's all true_.”