Murderer’s Trail. J. Farjeon Jefferson

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СКАЧАТЬ yes, never mind what you were going to suggest, Mr Greene,’ interrupted the captain. ‘Let us attend to what I suggest. Where was he found?’

      ‘On one of the coal bunkers. Aft.’

      ‘Well, bring him in. No, wait a minute. Have you got the bottle of chloroform?’

      ‘Not on me, sir,’ replied the third officer. ‘I’ll bring it when I come back.’

      He turned, but the captain detained him with one more question.

      ‘By the way, Mr Greene,’ he said, ‘I understand there’s a rumour of a stoker who is supposed to have fallen into the water. Do you know anything about it?’

      ‘No, sir,’ answered the third officer promptly.

      When they were alone again, the captain raised his eyebrows, and Mr Holbrooke burst out.

      ‘Why, I got that rumour from two people,’ he exclaimed, indignantly. ‘I should have thought your officers would have known of it!’

      ‘I didn’t know of it,’ answered the captain; ‘and my officers have too much to do to attend to rumours. May I know who the two people were?’

      Mr Holbrooke reddened slightly. He didn’t know who the two people were. As a matter of fact, now he came to think of it, he hadn’t actually got it from them at all. He had overheard them talking about it. The captain shook his head rather sadly.

      ‘And so wars begin, Mr Holbrooke,’ he observed. ‘However, I’ll make inquiries.’

      Then he fell into a silence, while his visitor stared gloomily at his bright finger-nails. He always got a peculiar satisfaction from his finger-nails.

      And into this sombre atmosphere Ben entered a minute later, to continue the strange adventure on which Fate had launched him.

      He did not cut a dignified figure. You can’t, when your face has the memory of half a ton of coal upon it. His mind, too, was jerky. The transition from darkness to lightness, from the ship’s stomach to the ship’s brain had confused him, and he was also feeling the effects of many factors which worked against his efficiency. Item, lack of natural sleep. Item, superfluity of unnatural sleep. Item, a blow from a murderer. Item, a fall from a ladder. Item, having been off his nut. Item, an intense, abruptly born interest in a fellow-sufferer whose fate appeared to be in his hands. Item, a vast, empty space inside him that badly needed filling.

      It was the fellow-sufferer, however, who confused him most. But for her, he could have gone straight ahead and seen what happened. But for her, he could have turned the tables on his captor, or made a definite attempt to. But what hit his captor would hit Faggis, and what hit Faggis might hit the girl, wherever she was. Yes, and where was she? And what was he to do? And why was he interesting himself in a wrong ’un, anyway, tell him that?

      What he really needed, before tackling the difficult interview before him, was a week’s holiday. With a hole inside and a bump outside, and things coming so fast one on top of another, what chance had a bloke? Well, there you were!

      Chap in blue would be the old man. Who was the other chap? Gawd, there’s a pair o’ socks …

      ‘Here he is,’ said the third officer.

      ‘Tha’s right!’ snorted Ben, as he was pushed forward. ‘Shove me abart as if I was a pahnd o’ cheese! We ain’t ’uman beings, we ain’t!’

      ‘Better be careful,’ the third officer warned him.

      ‘Wot for?’ he retorted. ‘When yer dahn on the ground, yer can’t fall.’

      The captain interposed.

      ‘All right, Mr Greene,’ he said quietly. ‘I’ll talk to him. Perhaps he will be a little more polite to me.’

      Ben turned his eyes towards the speaker. The amount of gold braid did increase the necessity for politeness. He decided to try it.

      ‘I speaks proper, sir,’ he said, ‘when I’m spoke ter proper.’

      ‘I see,’ nodded the captain. ‘A fifty-fifty arrangement. It isn’t quite usual between a captain and a stowaway, but, as you’re particular, we’ll begin on those lines. What is your name?’

      ‘Ben, sir.’

      ‘And the rest of it?’

      ‘There ain’t no rest.’

      ‘I dare say you’ll find it, if you think.’

      ‘I can’t think.’

      ‘Why not?’

      ‘I got a bump.’

      ‘So I see. How did you get it?’

      ‘’Oo?’

      ‘How did you get your bump?’

      ‘It’s wot ’appens. When yer ’it.’

      ‘Then what hit you?’

      ‘’Arf a dozin’ ladders, a ton o’ coal, the grahnd, and the third hofficer. Oh, and two hother blokes wot ’e chucks me ter when we comes hup.’

      The third officer explained.

      ‘He came quietly at first, sir,’ he said; ‘but he gave us a bit of trouble towards the end.’

      ‘Well, they was tryin’ ter force me ’ead between me legs or somethink,’ Ben defended himself. ‘It ain’t nacheral.’

      ‘I will see that you receive a proper apology from the Merchant Service,’ commented the captain dryly. ‘Meanwhile, let us return to essentials.’

      ‘Where’s that?’

      ‘You say your name’s Ben? Write it.’

      A piece of paper and a pencil were handed to him. He wrote his autograph wonderingly. What did they want that for? The captain studied it, glanced at another piece of paper, looked at Mr Holbrooke and shook his head.

      ‘What are you doing here?’ the captain then asked.

      ‘Eh?’

      The captain’s eyes grew a little colder. ‘Answer me, my man,’ he frowned. ‘What are you doing here?’

      ‘Oh, I see,’ blinked Ben. ‘’E brought me ’ere.’

      He jerked his thumb towards the third officer. The third officer glared angrily, but the captain remained patient.

      ‘How did you get on the ship before he brought you here?’ he asked.

      ‘I come aboard.’

      ‘The man’s a lunatic, sir!’ burst out the third officer.

      ‘I’m not so darned sure!’ added Mr Holbrooke, whose eyes were glued in a puzzled stare on Ben’s.

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