Part 31 (2/2)
CHAPTER 26
On the promenade outside he met Sloan, the wireless operator, on his way to Captain Henshaw's cabin with a slip of paper in his hand. Sloan winked at him broadly.
”The good news has come, sir,” he grinned. ”Take a look at this!”
And McTee eagerly read the typewritten slip.
_Beatrice is rallying. Doctors have decided effusion of blood was not hemorrhage. Opinion now very hopeful._
”Will that bring the old boy around for a while?” asked Sloan.
”He'll slip you a twenty on the strength of that and give you a drink as well,” said McTee.
They reached the cabin and entered together to find that White Henshaw lay on the couch in the corner. His physical strength was apparently exhausted, and one long, lean arm dangled to the floor. At sight of the dreaded wireless operator with the message in his hand, his yellow face turned from yellow to pale ivory. He rose and supported himself with one hand against the wall, scowling as if he dared them to notice his weakness.
”Good news!” called Sloan cheerily, and extended the paper.
The captain s.n.a.t.c.hed the paper, his eyes were positively wolfish while he devoured the message.
”Sloan--good lad,” he stammered. ”Stay by your instrument every minute, my boy. Before night we'll have word that she's past all danger.”
Sloan touched his cap and withdrew.
”Good news!” said McTee amiably. ”I'm mighty glad to hear it, captain.”
The old man fell back into a chair, holding the precious piece of paper with its written lie in both trembling hands.
”Good news,” he croaked. ”Aye, McTee. You were right, lad! Those d.a.m.ned doctors don't know their business. They're making the case out bad so they'll get more credit for the cure. See how they're fooling with me-- and me with my heart on fire in the middle of the sea!”
His eyes wandered strangely in the midst of his exultation.
”That would be a strange death, eh, McTee--to burn in the middle of the sea with a s.h.i.+p full of gold?”
The Scotchman shuddered.
”Forget that, man. You're not going to burn at sea. You're going to reach port with all your gold and you're going to stand beside Beatrice and say--”
Henshaw broke in: ”And say, 'Beatrice, I've come to make you happy.
We'll leave this country where the fogs are so thick and the sun never s.h.i.+nes, and we'll go south, far south, where there's summer all the year.' That's what I'll say!”
”Right,” nodded McTee. ”If her lungs are weak, that's the place to take her.”
Henshaw jerked erect in his chair. ”Weak lungs? Who said she had weak lungs? McTee, you're a fool! A little cold on the chest, that's all that's the matter with the girl! The doctors have made the sickness-- they and their rotten medicines! And now they're making sport out of White Henshaw. I'll skin them alive, I will!”
McTee lighted a cigar and nodded judiciously as he puffed it.
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