Flynn’s Weekly Detective Fiction. Vol. 18, No. 3, September 18, 1926
- Автор: Bailey H. C., Bechdolt Jack
- Год: 1926
- Язык: английский
- Год: The Red Star News Company
- Жанр: Другие детективы
Электронная книга - «Flynn’s Weekly Detective Fiction. Vol. 18, No. 3, September 18, 1926». Краткое содержание книги:
Brakely knew about that hill too, and we made for it.
“We’ll take a look at the Seabird, if she’s still there,” he said. “I don’t know what we’re going to run into.”
And neither did I.
The sun came up while we were ascending Signal Hill, came up with a promise of a clear, warm day. The chill oozed out of my bones.
I discovered now that my feet were in bad shape, due to wearing my shoes so long. They tired quickly. I could tell by the way Brakely walked that he was in a similar fix, though he hadn’t suffered from imprisonment in irons. But we never thought of stopping.
We got to the top of the hill. The Seabird still lay in Marble Cove.
There was no sign of any one on her decks, though if things had gone well with those we left there Alonzo Lee should have with him on the craft Miss Mary Lee, Berivou, the mate of the Angela Lee; Fanier, the engineer, three sailors, the cook, and the engineer’s helper off the yacht. There was a possibility that Captain Fawcett and Splinters had been driven ashore, if Captain Lee had caught them at any tricks, or even that they had suffered a worse fate.
Absolutely no hint could we see of the presence at Querolle of Barney Masters and his evil crew.
“Wonder if Masters got here?” I said.
“I can’t believe that he didn’t,” Brakely replied, “knowing what he was up to.”
“You mean Miss Lee?”
“Miss Lee — and something else.”
The something else was the stakes for which Brakely and Masters would fight; and though I dismissed all thought of the treasure of Caricar the pirate, the idea of treasure — wealth of some sort — persisted in my mind.
We were lying on the hilltop, still in doubt as to whether we ought to show ourselves, thinking of Barney Masters.
Then suddenly we heard the report of a pistol, off in the direction of Marble Cove.
“That was a shot,” I said.
“It certainly was!”
“Did you see any smoke?”
“No,” Brakely rejoined. “The automatics those fellows carry don’t belch smoke.”
We waited, scanning the cliffs around the cove and the decks of the ship. I detected a movement on the cliffs.
“There — on the cliffs!” I said, pointing. “A man—”
Another shot sounded. The man on the cliffs skulked out of view. Brakely hadn’t seen him. Suddenly a puff of smoke came from one of the ports of the Seabird, then the report of a third shot reached our ears. The distance was such that the smoke of a shot would be seen first.
“There’s a fight on,” I said, “between the people on the ship and Barney Masters’s gang on the cliffs.”
“No doubt about it,” Brakely agreed. “The Lees and their people are beleaguered on the ship.” He drew a long breath of satisfaction, and I was impressed by his sincerity. “We got here in time, didn’t we, George?”
“We had. It wasn’t likely that Mary Lee had yet fallen into the hands of Barney Masters. The crooks hadn’t been able to creep up on the Seabird. Their presence was detected, and a fight was on. How long the struggle had lasted we didn’t know.”
“Well,” Brakely said, “we’ve got the lay of the land now. I just got a glimpse of one of those fellows on the cliffs. Looked like a fireman who worked in Masters’s black gang. If that’s true, there’s no doubt as to which side is in possession of the ship. And it means that we’ve got to attack Masters and his gang from behind.”
“All right — let’s go.”
We were a little rested now, and we hurried down the hill. I saw no sign of Hippolyte.
On our way over to Marble Cove I wondered if I hadn’t ought to tell Brakely about the deaf mute, and make an attempt to enlist him in the fight. Brakely and I faced tremendous odds — two weary men armed with stones and clubs against a crowd of thugs armed with guns.
But I realized that I still had to face a struggle with the man now at my side. I relied strongly on him in the present emergency — relied on his cunning and stealth to wage a winning fight against even those odds — but the time might come when my own victory would depend on the surprise of Hippolyte’s appearance.
I kept up a sharp lookout for the deaf mute, but said nothing about him.
The nearer we got to Marble Cove the more cautiously did we proceed. Close to the slopes running up to the cliffs we picked our way step by step, darting behind trees and rocks, and remaining under cover for long intervals, listening and watching. It was our object to attack one or two of the gang separately, whip them, and seize whatever guns we could.
I don’t think an Indian could have gone through the woods more stealthily than we did, and the nature of our progress accounts for the way in which we blundered into Barney Masters and his right hand man, Charles Throgg.
I saw them first. They were asleep in a little natural den formed by rocks and brush, one of the many covers with which this island abounded. I first saw their stocking feet, and beckoned to Brakely.
We crept into position. Yes, they were asleep, perhaps after a night on the cliffs. We could see both their faces. There was no sound from the cliffs above. Those up there were lying quietly no doubt, waiting for a shot at some of the people on the Seabird.
Brakely and I took a good look at our surroundings before we made a move.
“You take Throgg,” Brakely whispered. “Leave Masters to me.”
There was a murderous gleam in his eyes.
“Don’t kill him,” I urged.
He did not reply.
This was no time and place, with those odds against us, to plead for the life of a thug, one of whose motives in leaving Brakely and me to die on the yacht was to get his dirty hands on Miss Mary Lee. We crept toward them.
Barney Masters awoke and sat up. He took in the situation at a glance, for Brakely and I, getting close, had been compelled to get out from cover. He shook Throgg violently, yelled, and leaped to his feet. Throgg was up in an instant too.
And the fight was on.
Chapter XXXI
Strongest Man Is Master
If it had not been for the threat from the cliffs above this would have been a leisurely job for Brakely and me, for we were in action the instant we saw Masters was awake. They got on their feet all right, but had no chance to get their guns before their hands were busy in an attempt to stay our attack.
They had been sleeping close together under a blanket. They wore trousers and shirts, but their shoes and coats were off. Their guns were in their coats, which lay behind them.
I selected Throgg, and knew at the outset that my work would soon be done. Masters hadn’t yelled the second time, for Brakely had him by the throat.
Throgg was lean and not overly strong. His cadaverous face was twisted with fright. It was almost a shame to hit him, but it had to be done. I took one clean crack at him while his hands were raised feebly, and he went down in a lurching tumble. I sprang on top of him; searched his trousers pockets for a gun, found none, then rolled him off the coats on which he had fallen. From them I got two guns. Throgg was insensible.
I turned toward Brakely and his victim.
Mention of Brakely’s speed in a fight has already been made, and he was fighting now with hate in his heart. He had his hands on a crook who had double crossed him and one who had designs on a girl whom it was certain Brakely loved.
No matter what Brakely’s game had been, no matter what lay at the bottom of the mystery, he did love Mary Lee, and his game included no design on her.
Looking at the awful thing going on there, I knew how futile it would be for me to utter a protest. I couldn’t hazard the welfare of the besieged company in the cove by fighting in defense of Barney Master’s life.