Captain Martin and Chief Engineer Nicholson were smoking a pipe together in the latter’s very comfortable but somewhat out-of-the-way quarters when, to their surprise, the door of the cabin was abruptly opened to admit two of the ship’s guests, Cornelius Blunn and Baron Funderstrom.
“Good evening, gentlemen,” the captain said, in some surprise.
Cornelius Blunn was not wasting words.
“We want to know, Mr. Engineer, what is wrong with your engines. Why can’t you start up and get us back to Monte Carlo according to promise?”
“My engines! Who said there was anything wrong with my engines?” Nicholson demanded.
“Mr. Slattery has told us so,” was the curt reply. “He told us not a quarter of an hour ago that you were afraid to start them for fear of an accident to one of the pistons.”
“Well, if Mr. Slattery said so,” the chief engineer observed, “he’s doubtless right.”
“I do not believe it,” Blunn declared. “We have reason to suspect that Mr. Slattery is trying to keep us out here all night for a purpose of his own.”
“If you think that, it’s Mr. Slattery you’d better talk to, sir,” Nicholson suggested. “My job on board this boat is to take orders from the owner. You’d better go and complain to Mr. Slattery, if there’s anything not to your liking.”
“We have complained to Mr. Slattery,” Blunn rejoined. “He has refused to order you to start the engines.”
“Then that’s all there is to be said about it,” the captain intervened. “They’ll start all right as soon as Mr. Slattery says the word, and not before.”
Cornelius Blunn’s hand left his hip pocket. He was a good judge of men, and he realised that threats were not likely to help him.
“Look here,” he said. “You two are sensible men. I’m sure of that. I want to tell you that Mr. Slattery is playing a very dangerous game. He is pretending to be broken down to keep this gentleman. Baron Funderstrom, from attending the Nice Conference to-morrow.”
“Aye, aye,” the engineer observed. “He has some good reason, no doubt.”
“I am not going to threaten you with what may happen if this conspiracy is persisted in,” Blunn went on. “I want to put the matter to you another way. Start your engines up and get us into Monte Carlo before morning and you shall have a draft for five thousand pounds, during the day.”
“Five thousand pounds!” Chief Engineer Nicholson exclaimed.
“Five thousand pounds!” the captain echoed.
“It’s an enormous sum,” the former declared.
“It is yours, if you’ll do as I have asked,” Blunn assured them.
“What’s the matter with Mr. Slattery giving me my orders?” Nicholson demanded.
“Mr. Slattery has already given you his orders, and we don’t approve of them,” Blunn replied.
“It’s a pity, that,” the chief engineer regretted, “for Mr. Slattery’s are the only orders that are likely to receive any attention on board this ship.”
“If to that five, I were to add another two?” Blunn suggested.
“Seven thousand pounds! Why, man alive, it’s a tremendous sum,” the other gasped. “I’d not know what to do with such a fortune.”
“That is for you to decide,” Blunn said impatiently. “You can make your own arrangements with the captain. All we ask of you is to start your engines, and of the captain, to take us into Monte Carlo. Come! This shall mean your fortunes, both of you. It shall be ten thousand pounds between you, paid in cash to-morrow morning.”
“Ten thousand pounds!” the engineer repeated. “Did you hear that, Captain Martin? Five thousand apiece! Why, mon, the money would be a temptation to us. Like as not we would stay on land and get drunk, instead of coming to sea, like decent seafaring men should.”
“Will you do it, or won’t you?” Blunn demanded, suddenly suspicious of the other’s attitude.
The chief engineer knocked the ashes from his pipe.
“I’m thinking,” he said, “that neither of you gentlemen are much used to the sea and the ways of seafaring folk, or you’d know that there isn’t a self-respecting officer born who’d take his orders from any except his skipper. You’re simply wasting your time here, gentlemen. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll be getting along. I’ve a fancy for a word with Mr. Slattery.”
“You’ll stay here for the present,” Blunn declared coolly. “Don’t make a fuss about it, please. No one wants to hurt you, but there’s a great deal at stake, and a few men’s lives won’t make much difference.”
The engineer looked in blank and genuine amazement down the black muzzle of Blunn’s automatic.
“Take your finger off that trigger, you blithering idiot,” he shouted. “Don’t you know it might go off at any minute?”
“It’s very likely indeed to go off if you move,” Blunn assured him. “Just as you are, please, both of you.”
Baron Funderstrom stepped backwards, and Blunn followed his example. Outside, they shut the door and locked it. The two officers stared at one another open-mouthed.
“So that’s the game,” the engineer exclaimed. “We’re keeping that warmed-up corpse of a lop-eared German from going to the Conference. Abductors! That’s what we are.”
The captain helped himself to whisky and passed the decanter.
“Fill up, Jim,” he invited, “and then you’d better press the bell.”
Nicholson did as he was bid. Then he shook his head.
“The fat chump wasn’t quite such a flat as all that,” he remarked. “Wire’s cut outside.”
Captain Martin leaned back in his chair and laughed.
“If this doesn’t beat the band!” he exclaimed. “To think that I’ve been going to sea for thirty years, and have never been in a hold-up before! Drink up, Jim, and we’ll get busy. There must be something we can do.”
The chief mate, Henry Fosbrooke, was standing, his back to the rail, watching the somewhat erratic antics of an uncertain wind in his main-sail. The yacht being for a watch under his control, he was indulging in some mild speculation as to the reason for the curious instructions he had received. To him, out of the gloom, came Blunn, bulky, ponderous, slow-footed, followed by Funderstrom, grey and cold, silent as a dead man.
“Are you the officer in charge?” the former asked.
“I am, sir, for my sins,” was the civil reply. “We’re giving you a queer sort of entertainment to-night.”
“My friend here. Baron Funderstrom, and I are the victims of a practical joke,” Blunn continued. “We have a proposition to make to you.”
“A proposition,” the officer repeated, watching the slow bellying of his sail. “If it is anything to do with getting busy down in the engine room, I shall be glad to hear it, anyhow. I don’t fancy this flopping about like a lame duck, with squalls in the offing.”
“To tell you the truth, neither do we,” Blunn declared. “We want to turn the tables upon Mr. Slattery. Is there a second engineer on board?”
“There he is, sir,” the mate answered, pointing to a gloomy figure standing with his hands in his pockets a few yards away.
“I should like to speak to him for a moment. Please call him.”
The appearance of the second engineer, who at once obeyed the summons, was distinctly encouraging. He was a youngish man, with shifty eyes and a furtive manner.
“Are five thousand pounds apiece any use to you young fellows?” Blunn asked, addressing them both.
Neither of them answered. They could only stare.
“Get down to your engine room, start up and head this yacht back for Monte Carlo,” Blunn continued, “and the money is yours.”
“Without Mr. Slattery’s orders?” the officer of the watch gasped.
“Mr. Slattery, at the moment, is not in a position to give orders,” was the terse reply.
“What about my chief?” the engineer demanded.
“He is in the same position. You have got the run of the ship for a time. Do as I say and I swear before God you shall have the money.”
“The devil!” the mate exclaimed. “I thought there was some queer work afoot. What’s wrong with Mr. Slattery?”
“Nothing serious,” Blunn assured them. “I have locked him up. He is trying to play a trick on us. It is perfectly fair and just to defend ourselves. He is endeavouring to keep us from making land before dawn. We are determined to get there, somehow or other. It is five thousand apiece. There’s some fun to be got in the world for five thousand, you know.”
“I’m on, anyway,” the second engineer decided. “We can’t be getting any one into bad trouble.”
“You will not be getting any one into trouble at all,” Blunn declared. “My friend here is Baron Funderstrom, Scandinavian delegate at the Nice Conference. All Mr. Slattery is trying to do is to prevent his attending the meeting to-morrow morning, for political reasons. We intend that he shall be there.”
“But what’s become of my chief?” his subordinate asked anxiously.
“Locked up in his own room,” was the blunt reply, “and the captain with him. That can’t last long, I know, but it won’t take us very long either to get back to Monaco, with a full head of steam on.”
“All right,” the officer of the watch announced. “I’ll take her in charge. We’ve scarcely any sail on her now. We’ll get rid of that directly. Five thousand pounds each, mind!”
“It is a bargain,” Blunn assured them.
They disappeared in different directions. Blunn, followed by Funderstrom, his silent and almost ghostly shadow, strolled along the deck. Away aft Rose Lancaster and her brother, Susan and Gertrude were still laughing and talking. Susan looked up as they approached.
“Where’s every one?” she asked curiously. “They all seem to have gone to sleep.”
“Where is Mr. Slattery?” Gertrude demanded. “And what have you done with my husband?”
“They are all trying to solve the problem of this slight breakdown,” Blunn explained. “It seems to be a more intricate affair than we thought.”
“I don’t care when we get back,” Susan declared recklessly. “I’ve been to look at the cabins downstairs, and I never dreamed of such luxury in my life.”
“Odd thing about Slattery, though,” Lancaster observed. “Is he really down in the engine room?”
“I left him there,” Blunn told them. “Like every owner, I believe he fancies that his presence encourages les autres.”
“By Jove, it has, too!” the young man exclaimed. “Can’t you hear the thud? The engine’s started.”
There was a chorus of exclamations. Susan rose from her place and glided unnoticed to the other side of the deck.