The Island Mystery/Chapter 16

ONOVAN was no more than moderately interested in what his daughter told him about the strange steamer. She mentioned the fact that the Captain spoke English with precise correctness.

“They’re an educated people, the Germans,” said Donovan. “I reckon there’s ten of them know English for one American knows German. Couldn’t do business with us if they didn’t learn to talk so as we can understand them. That’s the reason. It isn’t fancy trimmings they’re out for, but business; and they’re getting it. I wouldn’t call them a smart people. They haven’t got the punch of our business men; but they’re darned persevering.”

“It can’t be business that brings him here,” said the Queen.

“No,” said Donovan. “Salissa is not a business centre. It’s my opinion that steamer is having trouble with her engines and has come in here to tinker a bit; or maybe she’s short of water; or the captain’s taken a notion that he’d like some fresh fish and a few dozen eggs. It doesn’t seem to me that we need fret any about what brings him here.”

The Queen was not satisfied. She sat for some time on her balcony looking at the steamer. With the help of a pair of glasses she could watch what was going on. The long hose which she had seen in the morning was got on deck and coiled in three great heaps. Then the men knocked off work for breakfast. After that they became active again. One end of the hose was lowered into a boat. It seemed to the Queen to be a rubber hose like those used by firemen. The boat rowed towards the cave. Another boat lay close to the steamer’s bow and received a loop of the hose, taking some of the strain and drag off the first boat. She too rowed towards the cave. A third boat followed in the same way. The Queen saw that the hose was being carried into the depths of the cave, drooping into the water between the boats, but sufficiently supported to be dragged on. The work was very slow, but it was carried on steadily, methodically.

The Queen was much interested in what she saw. After awhile she became very curious. The proceedings of the men on the steamer were difficult to understand. There seemed no reason why they should tug a large quantity of rubber hose into the cave. It was a senseless thing to do. Then it occurred to her that the cave was hers, part of an island of which she was Queen, which her father had bought for her from its legal owner. Any householder would feel himself entitled to investigate the doings of a party of strangers who appeared suddenly and pushed a rubber hose through his drawing-room window. They might be the servants of the gas company or officials sent by the water board, or sanitary inspectors, but the owner of the house would want to satisfy himself about them. The Queen felt that she had every right to find out what von Moll’s men were doing.

She called Kalliope and they went off together in their boat, rowing across the bay towards the steamer.

Kalliope was excited. She talked rapidly in her own language, turning round now and then and pointing towards the steamer. It was plain that she had something which she very much wanted to say, something about the strange steamer. The Queen’s curiosity increased. She thought for a moment of turning back to the palace. There she would find Smith and he would interpret for her. Then she remembered Smith’s odd mistake in translating his own German in the morning. She determined not to ask his help. Kalliope, hopeless of explaining herself in Megalian, fell back on her small store of English words. She kept on saying “Mucky ship,” which conveyed nothing at all to the Queen, except the obvious fact that the steamer was there. She also repeated the words “Once more.”

At last, when the boat was getting near the steamer, Kalliope made a great effort.

“It—is—once more,” she said.

The Queen jumped to a possible meaning of her words. The steamer, that steamer had been in the harbour of Salissa before, had been perhaps about some business similar to that which occupied her now. Kalliope, her eyes on the Queen’s face, saw that she was making herself understood. She nodded delightedly, turned round on her seat and pointed to the steamer.

“It—is—once more.”

Then she began to sing, softly at first, louder as she became sure of herself, until her voice rang clear across the water. Her song had no words, but the tune was that which she had sung to the Queen in the cave on the day when she first saw the cisterns. It was the tune of the hymn “Glorious things of thee are spoken.”

Three or four men were leaning over the ship’s bulwarks, looking at the Queen’s boat. They heard Kalliope’s voice, and they joined in the hymn. A boat lay in the mouth of the cave, supporting part of the long hose. There were four men in her. They also joined in the hymn. They sang words, German words. The Queen listened intently, trying to hear what the words were.

Captain von Moll, standing on the bridge of the steamer, shouted an order. The men stopped singing abruptly. Kalliope finished the tune by herself and then laughed.

“It—is—once more,” she said.

The Queen understood. The ship had been in the harbour before. The crew had gone about some work, like that which she saw them doing. While they worked they had sung that hymn tune. The Queen frowned with perplexity. Then suddenly she recollected. She had been in the choir at school. She had sung hymns every morning at prayers. The fat German governess, an exile from the Fatherland and deeply sentimental, used to play the piano and teach the choir. There were always tears in her eyes when she played that particular tune. The girls understood that in some way it meant a great deal to her, was perhaps the tune of some national song, captured by an English musician and set to the words of a popular hymn. The Queen had never thought much about the matter. Now it occurred to her that the sailors were singing the song which the German governess had in mind, a song so popular that they often sang it at their work. Kalliope had learned it from them when they first visited the island. They recognized it and joined in it when they heard her singing it.

Kalliope rowed slowly round the steamer. An engine on deck began to work. The Queen could hear it snorting and clanking. The boat crossed the ship’s bows, passing under the length of hose which drooped in a long curve into the water. Suddenly the hose swelled, writhed, twisted. It seemed to be alive. It looked like some huge sea snake, wriggling from the ship into the water, swimming through the water towards the gloomy mouth of the cave. Kalliope stopped rowing and stared open-mouthed. The Queen realized almost at once what was happening. The engine on the steamer’s deck was pumping some liquid through the hose.

Kalliope held her dripping oars above the water and stared at the writhing hose. The boat lay still. The Queen remembered what her father had said at breakfast. The steamer might have come to the island for water. It was possible that the engine was sucking water in through the hose, not driving some other liquid out through it. But the Queen could not remember any spring or well of fresh water in the cave. She signed to Kalliope. The girl dipped her oars again. The boat moved towards the entrance of the cave.

One of the ship’s boats, with four men in her, lay right under the high archway of the entrance. A man stood up and signed to the Queen, shaking his head.

“Es ist verboten,” he said.

Then, with gestures which could not be mistaken he repeated gruffly, “Verboten.”

To the Queen it seemed absurd that a strange sailor should try to prevent her from rowing into a cave in her own island whenever she chose. She took no notice of the man. Kalliope rowed on. Two of the men in the ship’s boat leaned over her side and caught Kalliope’s oars.

Kalliope was a young woman of imperturbably good temper. She smiled amiably at the men and then turned to the Queen.

“Blighters,” she said. “Bloody blighters.”

She was also a young woman of spirit and ready presence of mind. With a swift jerk she dragged the slippery blade from the man’s hands. She pulled it towards her beyond the man’s reach. Then with a sudden vigorous thrust she drove the blade into the face of the nearest sailor. It took him full in the mouth and knocked him backwards. He picked himself up and spat out the broken fragments of some teeth. Kalliope laughed joyously.

“Bloody blighters,” she said, and for once the epithet was appropriate enough.

The Queen felt that the situation was neither agreeable nor dignified. It is very well, no doubt, for wild, half-barbarous girls like Kalliope to engage in fights with German sailors; but for a civilized American, a graduate of a university, such things are impossible. And for a Queen! Can a queen brawl without hopeless loss of dignity? Her immediate impulse was to appeal to the captain of the steamer, to assert her right to enter the cave, to demand the immediate punishment of the men who had stopped her.

She looked around. The captain was not on the bridge. He had been there a few moments before. He had been there when the engine began to work. He had disappeared. The Queen rowed back to the steamer. She asked for the captain. The young officer whom she had seen in the morning came to the side of the ship and told her that no one was allowed to enter the cave. She asked to see the captain, refusing to argue about her rights with a subordinate officer. She was told that the captain was very much occupied and could not be disturbed. The Queen, puzzled and angry, rowed back to the palace.

It was nearly luncheon-time when she landed. Smith met her with the news that Mr. Donovan had been suffering severely with his heart all the morning, that he would not join the Queen at luncheon, that, further, he felt the need of absolute quiet and rest during the afternoon, but hoped to be able to meet the German captain at dinner.

Donovan’s balcony commanded a full view of the harbour. He had seen Kalliope’s struggle with the German sailor. He felt sure that his daughter would tell him the whole story. He feared that she would want him to take some vigorous action. Donovan made a point of encouraging his heart in disordered action whenever demands of that kind were likely to be made upon him. He argued that the trouble of the morning would in all probability have died away before dinner. If it showed signs of reviving or increasing in intensity he intended to dine in his room and go to bed early.

The Queen felt it her duty to lecture Kalliope severely. No well-conducted lady’s-maid ought to attack strange sailors with oars and knock out their front teeth. Kalliope must be made to understand that such conduct was not only undesirable in a maid but was actually unwomanly. The lecture was, necessarily, delivered for the most part in pantomime, by means of frowns, nods, and shakings of the head. Up to a certain point the Queen succeeded very well. Kalliope easily understood that her assault on the sailor was the subject of discussion. After that the Queen’s sign language began to fail her. Kalliope continued to be greatly pleased with herself and proud of her performance. After a long struggle the Queen made her understand that she had behaved not well, but very badly. Kalliope grovelled in abject apology. The impression finally left on her mind was that she was to blame for anticipating her mistress’ action. The Queen, so she thought, would have liked to fell the German sailor herself, would indeed have brained the man instead of merely breaking his front teeth.

The Queen, aware that she was failing badly, gave the business up and sent Kalliope away to make tea. It was easy enough to communicate with Kalliope about tea, clothes, and such ordinary subjects. The girl had picked up the English names for most things which her mistress commonly used.

The Queen took advantage of this. After tea she made an inspection of her evening frocks. She wished to appear to the very best advantage before Captain von Moll when he came to dinner. The man had stared insolently at her in the morning; but then she had been wearing a simple cotton frock and a boating hat crammed hastily on the back of her head. In the evening she meant to be splendid, regal. Captain von Moll should look at her with respect. She determined that her manner should correspond with her attire. She would be gracious indeed, as a good hostess should be, but very dignified, a little remote, with more than a hint of condescending patronage in her tone when she spoke.

Kalliope, greatly delighted, brought out frock after frock. She spread the garments on the backs of sofas and chairs, handling delicate lace and fine fabrics with tender affection. Sometimes, at the bidding of the Queen, she put on one of the frocks and paraded up and down the room in it, her brown face and strong, sunburnt arms making an odd contrast with pale-blue silk and fluffy chiffon. The occupation was fascinating. There were some frocks which the Queen had scarcely seen. She had, she supposed, chosen the material and the shape, had, it was likely, tried them on during the hurried days before sailing for Salissa. But she had forgotten what they were like, forgotten that she possessed them. It was a joy to see them spread out before her eyes or actually draped on Kalliope’s slender figure.

Neither girl noticed that shortly after six o’clock the Ida slipped round the corner of the reef and dropped anchor in the harbour. Phillips, standing with Captain Wilson and Gorman on the bridge, scanned the palace steps, the balconies, the windows, and then, with eager eyes, the shores of the bay, for a sight of the Queen. Captain Wilson and Gorman stared with surprise and curiosity at the German steamer. Gorman had no special knowledge of ships, but he recognized that the vessel before his eyes was not an ordinary tramp. He was startled and interested to see any such vessel in the harbour of Salissa. Captain Wilson, a puzzled frown on his face, wondered at the odd way the steamer was moored and her nearness to the cliffs. Phillips, who had no eyes at all for the strange steamer, seized the line attached to the Ida’s whistle, and blew three long blasts. He hoped to announce his arrival to the Queen, wherever she might be.

Captain Wilson, perplexed by the look and position of the German steamer, was irritable. He ordered Phillips off the bridge. But the whistle had done its work. The Queen and Kalliope ran to the balcony. They waved joyful greetings to the Ida, Kalliope an odd figure in a pale-grey evening dress. Phillips, standing on the deck below the bridge, waved back. It was a joyful moment. A few minutes later his joy was turned to sorrow of an almost unbearable kind. Captain Wilson forbade him to go ashore. A boat was lowered and Gorman was rowed off to the palace—to the gates of paradise. Phillips bitterly regretted that he had blown his blasts of greeting on the syren. But, in fact, it was not for that he was punished. Captain Wilson was simply in a very bad temper. The sight of Salissa always annoyed him. The position of the German steamer irritated him vehemently. She lay dangerously near the cliffs in a position in which no seaman would willingly put his ship. She was absurdly moored with four anchors. She was occupied in a perfectly incomprehensible manner. No man likes to be puzzled by things which it is his business to understand. Doctors have been known to deny the existence of symptoms which do not accord with those proper to the patient’s taste. Politicians are baffled and infuriated by men who, indifferent to the sacred etiquette of the profession, speak the truth in public. Engineers are angry when water persists in oozing out of the top of a hill—as it sometimes does to the confusion of all known laws—instead of trickling into the drains dug for it in the valley underneath. So Captain Wilson’s temper gave way because the German steamer lay as no steamer in the charge of sane men ought to lie; and Phillips was punished. Kings fly into a rage, said an ancient poet, and the common people suffer for it.

Perhaps Phillips would have been consoled, he would have certainly been less sulky during the evening, if he had seen what happened in the palace. The Queen stood on the balcony all eagerness, her lips parted, her eyes sparkling, a flush coming and going on her cheeks. She watched the boat lowered, saw the men take their places, saw Gorman climb cautiously down and seat himself in the stern. She waited. Phillips was on deck. She could see him. The boat pushed off. Phillips was not in her. He still stood on the steamer’s lower deck leaning over the bulwarks. The Queen turned and went into her room. She flung herself down on a chair. She had much ado to hold back most unqueenly tears of disappointment. Kalliope slipped off the grey and silver dress she wore. Very silently she folded and put away the clothes which lay scattered about the room. Then she sat down at the Queen’s feet and cried softly. She had a sympathetic soul. She understood the Queen’s feelings.

Gorman was received by Smith. After a few minutes he was led up to the balcony where Donovan lay stretched on a deck chair with a box of cigars at his elbow.

“I am very, very pleased to see you, Gorman,” he said.

“I’m afraid,” said Gorman, “that I’ve come to bother you. There’s been a lot of fuss in London about your purchase of this island. The Emperor”

Donovan waved his hand feebly and lay back in his chair with every appearance of extreme exhaustion.

“Ill?” said Gorman.

“Two years ago,” said Donovan, “after I had realized my little pile, before I came over to Europe I sent for a doctor—leading man in his own line in America—heart specialist. ‘Doc,’ I said to him, ‘here’s 200 dollars. You take a good look at my heart.’ Well, he tapped me some and fooled around in the usual way. ‘Sir,’ he said, ‘your heart is as sound as a bell.’ ‘Doc,’ I said, ‘you’re mistaken, and the fee I offered was unworthy of your acceptance. I’ll write out a cheque for 500 dollars, and you take another look at my heart. I’ve a feeling,’ I said, ‘that what I want is rest and quiet now that my pile’s made.’ Well, he tapped me again and kind of listened to the throbbing of the darned machine. ‘Sir,’ he said, ‘you’re suffering from disordered action of your heart, and I recommend rest and quiet. No excitement and no worry.’ ‘Doc,’ I said, ‘I’m a business man—or I was before you passed that sentence on me. I’d be obliged if you’d put that on paper with your signature underneath.’ Well, he did that, and I paid him another 200 dollars. But I reckon the money was well spent. That paper is a protection to me.”

“I see,” said Gorman, “I’ll let the Emperor know”

“The Emperor be damned,” said Donovan, “and, say, Gorman, there’s a kind of German naval officer wandering around this island. I gather that some trouble arose this morning between his men and my daughter’s maid. Seems to me that there may be explanations, especially as that German captain is to dine here to-night. Now my idea is to stay where I am—on account of the condition of my heart. Smith will bring me up a bit of chicken and a half-bottle of Heidsieck. That’s all I feel inclined for. But I don’t care to leave Daisy alone with that man. I’m not scared of anything happening to the girl. She’s pretty well able to look after herself. But there might be more trouble for the officer.”

“There will be,” said Gorman, “if he’s come here with any kind of message from the Emperor.”

“Daisy,” said Donovan, “is liable to speak out at times. And that girl of hers is handy in the use of weapons. I don’t want to have to officiate at the funeral of a German naval officer.”

“It might very well come to that,” said Gorman.

He was thinking at the moment of the Emperor’s suggestion that Miss Donovan should be married out of hand to King Konrad Karl. It seemed to him likely that there would be very serious trouble if the German officer made that proposal, especially if he made it with the manner of a man who is conferring a favour.

“You see,” he went on, “that Emperor—silly old fool he is—has got it into his head”

Donovan lay back and closed his eyes.

“My heart isn’t up to the strain,” he said. “I’d rather leave the affair in your hands.”

“All right,” said Gorman. “I’ll see it through.”

“Thank you. It’s asking a good deal, I know.”

“Not at all,” said Gorman cheerfully. “I shall probably enjoy it.”