“Thanks, skipper. That’ll suit ‘em.”
Jessup started away; then paused. He turned again to Jund and mentioned a new subject.
“Lots of new faces along shore,” remarked the sailor. “Some of them mugs look like they was crooks, too. Been banding together, sort of.”
“Down at this end?”
“No. Up by the old Santiago. Some of ‘em have been living aboard there.”
“Let them. So long as they don’t bother us. They won’t be trying that, Jessup. If they’re looking for trouble, they’ll find it around some town near here.”
“Some of ‘em was talking together about an hour ago, captain. Couldn’t see who they was; they was too far away. But I seen one fellow going up toward the railroad, like he was reporting somewhere.”
“Keep a look-out posted, Jessup. Find out what some of the other skeleton crews think about it. That fellow you saw might have been going into some town. He’d have to go across the railroad cut in order to get to the road above.”
The captain looked upward as he spoke. A hundred feet above the railroad was the curved embankment of a highway. Passing cars could not be seen from the ghost fleet; for the road was set well in; but there were clearings at spots where cars could stop between the road and the actual embankment.
SOME minutes passed. Jund finished his pipe and strolled forward to where the bow of the ship nestled close to the shore. He stopped, fancying he had heard a light sound from the rail ahead. It came again; the clink of the anchor chain. Jund advanced through the darkness.
He reached the bow. There, the captain looked over the rail and made out the rusted chain against the dim side of the Xerxes. A man could reach that chain from the deck of an old scow that was jammed close to shore, beside the Xerxes. Anyone who reached it might be able to clamber up to the rail of the steamer.
Listening, Jund heard no sound of prowlers. He produced a flashlight and flickered its beams upon the rotting deck of the scow. No one was about; the captain decided that no one could have actually come aboard the Xerxes while he was standing so close. His final opinion was that a slight motion of the ship had caused the chain to clank.
Captain Jund went back toward the stern. He reached a hatchway and descended. He came to the door of an inner cabin. He unlocked it and turned on a light. There was electricity here, supplied from storage batteries.
Inside was a grill door. Its presence made the cabin a strong room. In an alcove on the farther wall was the ship’s safe, large and formidable. Jund turned out the light and locked the door.
He chuckled at thought of the strong room and its bars. Such a cabin was not unusual aboard a ship that had sailed in pirate-infested waters off the Chinese coast. Jund had kept the Xerxes intact, ever since the vessel had gone out of service.
Turning about in the darkened passage, Jund listened, wondering if his ears had again deceived him. He thought that he had heard another sound.
He blinked his flashlight, then laughed at his own qualms. Jessup’s talk about suspicious characters on shore had caused Jund to imagine things; that, at least, was the skipper’s own decision.
Shortly afterward, Captain Jund emerged from the hatchway and strolled out on deck. He saw other lanterns swinging and knew that his men were about. Jessup’s word had apparently ended their apathy toward duty aboard this moored vessel. Jund strolled to the bow; from that point, he glanced along the line of abandoned ships.
Far up along the curve, the captain of the Xerxes saw a firelight on shore. It was near the old freighter Santiago. Tiny figures, pacing in the glow, were proof of Jessup’s statement that hoodlums had convened.
A northbound train came pounding up the railroad pike. It was a fast freight; Jund watched the black cars as they clattered past. Motion and travel were recollections of the skipper’s past. He stared in meditation after the train had gone by. His gaze remained toward the embankment. Jund uttered a sudden, puzzled grunt.
A LITTLE light was blinking from the tracks. It was descending the embankment. Apparently someone had come from the highway above, waiting to cross the tracks because of the passing freight.
Jund’s perplexity was caused by the fact that the bearer of the flashlight was descending a steep slope where there was no path.
Visitors to the ghost fleet invariably climbed the embankment from a spot at the other end of the row. A footpath led upward from the place where the old Santiago was moored. Either this newcomer was unfamiliar with the terrain or he was seeking to avoid those men who had made their camp fire on the shore.
Jessup arrived by the skipper, swinging a lantern as he came. He, too, had spied the flashlight coming down the bank. The man who carried it had nearly reached the shore.
They saw him approach the grounded scow and turn its flashlight toward the dilapidated craft. Then the torch swung in their direction. The man on shore had seen Jessup’s lantern.
“Ship ahoy!” The halloo was guarded as the visitor gave it. “Ship ahoy! Hello, aboard there!”
“Ahoy!” growled Jund, as the flashlight approached. “What ship do you want?”
“The Xerxes,” came the reply from below.
“Who is with you?” queried Jund.
“I am alone,” returned the man from the dark.
“This is the Xerxes,” informed Jund. “Stand by while we let down a ladder.”
Jund spoke to Jessup. The sailor went to the side of the boat and pulled a rope ladder from beside the rail. The ladder had wooden rungs. It clattered as Jessup hove the lower end down to the deck of the scow.
Jund, standing in darkness, drew a revolver and strained his eyes while he watched the visitor clamber across the scow. The man had spoken the truth; he was alone.
The arrival clambered nimbly up the ladder. He vaulted the rail and came into the light of Jessup’s lantern.
Jund thrust his revolver into his pocket; but still retained his grip on the handle of the weapon.
He stepped forward to view a square-shouldered, rugged-faced man who looked like a sailor. Jund guessed that this fellow had been to sea. He was right. The arrival was Dave Callard.
“YOU’RE Captain Jund?” queried Dave.
“Right,” acknowledged the skipper. “Who are you, matey?”
“Dave Callard. Nephew of Milton Callard.”
Callard nudged toward Jessup, indicating that he did not want the seaman around. Jund grunted an order.
Jessup hung the lantern from a hook on the rail and sauntered away.
“Important business, captain,” confided Dave Callard. “Three friends of my uncle saw a man named Mallikan. Showed him ribbons like this” — Dave thrust out his hand to exhibit a square of blue silk — “and they doped out the names Xerxes from it. That’s why I came up here.”
“You’re Dave Callard, eh?” questioned Jund. “Seems to me, young fellow, that I saw something about you in a newspaper that was hove over from a river boat. Once in a while we read the papers up here. Some talk about the police being after you.”
“On account of trouble in China,” explained Callard, as he pocketed the slip of ribbon. “You’re one man that will see my side of it, captain. You’ve sailed the Orient long enough to know what those scummy Chinese pirates are like.
“I cleaned out a bunch of them on the Chu-kiang. Fellows who had been working up from the Boca Tigris. Some of them had even gotten down into the Outer Waters. I did a good job; but it wasn’t liked in Canton. The pirates had friends there.”
“So that’s why they brigged you, eh?” The captain’s first question was friendly; but his next one showed challenge: “Well, that’s a point in your favor; but what about this murder in New York?”