Howard Pease
THE TATTOOED MAN
Pease, Howard, 1894-1974
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Contents:
PART ONE
I. Missing and Guilty .................. 3
II. Grinning Dragons ................. 12
III. S.S. “Araby” ...................... 22
IV. The Cabin Aft .................... 35
V. Outward Bound ................... 45
VI. Man Overboard! ................. 56
VII. The Lifeboat .................... 68
PART TWO. THE FIGHT IN THE FORECASTLE
I. Southern Waters ..................... 85
II. The Enmity of Red Mitchell ........ 98
III. Sharks ............................... 106
IV. Mock Woo of Panama ............. 121
V. To Colon! To Colon! ................ 132
VI. Tod Shows His Fists ................ 141
VII. Black Gang vs. Deck Crew ....... 154
VIII. Captain Tom Jarvis ............... 163
PART THREE. ON THE TRAIL OF NEIL MORAN
I. A Secret Meeting in Marseilles ...... 177
II. The Third-Class Compartment ..... 187
III. At the Villa Paradis ................. 199
IV. The Prisoner ........................ 208
V. Escape ................................ 214
VI. The Story of the Annie Jamison .. 230
VII. Shanghai Passage ................... 240
PART FOUR. THE DOOMED SHIP
I. High Adventure ....................... 253
II. Mr. Hawkes Shows His Hand ........ 264
III. In the Stokehold ..................... 275
IV. Midnight .............................. 288
V. Abandon Ship! ........................ 299
VI. "I Take Command, Mr. Hawkes" ... 312
VII. Making Port ......................... 324
PART ONE
CHAPTER I
MISSING AND GUILTY
SEA fog hazed like spindrift along the San Francisco water front. Tod Moran, coming from the echoing halls of the Ferry Building to the Embarcadero, paused uncertainly upon the damp pavement. On train and ferry, he had been leaping gloriously through pages of high romance with a gentleman adventurer and his "noble, brave men of the sea," and now, upon stepping out of the rose-tinted covers of his book, he was momentarily startled, as though he had strayed into another world.
About him were the strange, muffled sounds of a February morning when the city is smothered in mist: the distant clang of cable cars, the hoarse cries of newsboys, the dull rumble of trucks and drays passing moment, debating what he should say to the manager. After all, perhaps his fears were groundless; his brother might have had a bad passage out, and in port, of course, a purser was always busy. Yet Neil had never failed to write before. He knew how his younger brother looked forward to receiving a letter stamped Marseilles or Genoa or Port Said. Perhaps Neil was ill with fever again—that jungle fever which he had contracted upon a voyage up the Amazon for cacao. With renewed anxiety, Tod returned to the office and opened its begrimed glass door.
Behind a counter facing the entrance, a girl sat typing, her slender hands flying deftly over the keys. She glanced up from her machine with a questioning smile. Her eyes were kind, Tod saw, and her hair the colour of bronze.
"Could I—could I see the manager?" Tod stammered.
"He's outside just now," the girl answered quickly. "Will you wait?"
Tod seated himself on a bench near the door. His gaze strayed past the girl and settled upon a glass door leading to a rear office. In black letters on the glass were the words:
Jasper Swickard, Manager
At the sight of the name, Tod's restlessness increased. With a nervous movement of his hand, he rose and crossed to the counter. "Do you think," he asked, "that the manager will be back soon?"
"Oh, yes; he's just outside on the Araby."
"Is that the ship?"
"Yes; you'll find Mr. Swickard there—if it's very important." A smile played at the corners of her mouth.
"It is important," Tod rejoined. "I'm looking for my brother. It's been several months since I've heard from him."
At his words, the girl turned and directed upon him a startled gaze. The smile left her lips. "Your brother?" she uttered softly. "And his name?"
"Neil Moran."
Tod, leaning over the counter, saw the blood drain suddenly from her face. Her glance fluttered past him out the door to the wharf; then she rose and quickly crossed to the counter. "Of course; you're Tod," she said with a little catch in her voice. "He told me of you—often."
"Neil? You know my brother?" Tod questioned eagerly.
The girl glanced over her shoulder and raised a warning hand. "We've only a moment. Don't let Mr. Swickard know I've been talking to you."
"Yes, but Neil! Where is he?" Involuntarily, he lowered his voice to match her tone. "What's happened?"
"I wish I knew. . . . Hush—Mr. Swickard!"
She slipped back to her desk, and a light run of chatter came from her lips. "In just a moment. You don't mind waiting, do you? He's very busy this morning."
Tod looked up. The outer door had opened and the manager of the European-Pacific Company entered. Crossing to a desk, he hurriedly glanced through some papers in a file. Tod watched him closely. He saw a slender, well-dressed man of thirty-five or forty, with sleek dark hair over eyes narrow and crafty.
"Mr. Swickard," said the girl, "a young man to see you."
"I'm busy, Miss Murray, as you see," snapped the manager. "What's he want?"
Tod spoke up. "I wanted to ask you about—my brother."
"Your brother?" The man turned slowly to face the boy; his beady black eyes narrowed to mere slits. "Who are you?" he said in even tones. "What's your name?"
"Moran—Tod Moran, sir."
Mr. Swickard stared impassively. Only his long white fingers, which gripped the desk behind him, gave evidence that he was disconcerted.
It was Tod who first broke the silence. "I came to ask you about my brother—about Neil."
Mr. Swickard's smooth-shaven face, dark where the beard showed through, broke into a smile. "So Neil Moran has a brother I I didn't know he had any relatives."