The Singing Monkey/Chapter 7

I!” PROTESTED her uncle as the girl, realizing the situation, stepped swiftly toward the table intent upon investigation. Beside the Monsoon's captain at the head of the table she bent and, as callously as a hospital nurse should, moved the head slightly in order to look into the eyes, which showed slightly the whites, as one overcome by sleep. The other victim revealed the same symptoms. Touching a cheek, she found that they were cold, yet by the density of the overset egg-yolk and the condition of the bodies in that warm, moist climate she knew that death had not been long master in we saloon.

Turning to make a remark to the three men, who were grouped around her, as if unconsciously accepting the leadership of the woman, she noticed something that brought her forward quickly. On the locker-seat, between the young girl and a woman who possibly might have been her mother, was a vacant seat, in front of which were the beginnings of breakfast such as the others had—a cup of cold coffee, a piece of toast with a corner bitten off and two untouched eggs.

“Look,” she said to her uncle. “Some one was sitting there”

“Oh! Do you see that?”

She pointed to the white table-cloth, where, faintly marked, was an imprint of a shoe, across which lay a fork with the handle bent.

“See! He must have been in such a hurry that he kicked over an empty egg!” she added, indicating some broken shells upon the floor.

“Better leave them for the moment,” said her uncle, and turning to the Second commanded:

“Mr. Carnell, take a couple of men and examine the men's quarters and I will go through the captain's berth and try to find the log.”

“Very good, sir,” replied Carnell, and departed.

“And, Mr. Selwyn, would you mind telling the carpenter to go round and sound the wells?”

Selwyn hesitated, frowned, said ungraciously, “All right,” and hurried off. Uncle and niece entered the first cabin on the right of the saloon. Skirts and dresses were hanging in the small wardrobes and women's articles were lying, about the locker-seat and on the dressing-table.

On the port side they found a larger cabin, which was evidently the master's. Captain Kelvett did not find the log there, but noticed that the two chronometers were still going.

“Probably find the log in the chartroom,” he commented as he mechanically rewound the chronometers.

“There doesn't seem anything suspicious here,” remarked Vi. “Appears as if he had his bath and gone in to breakfast. Let us go on deck and see what has happened.”

As they passed through the saloon they started at the sound of a sharp pop. Captain Kelvett rushed toward the pantry, where they found Selwyn, with a satisfied grin on his dirty, unshaven face, in the act of pouring out a bottle of champagne. “Nothing here,” he remarked casually. “Steward seems to have left everything O.K., though. Have a drink?”

“Mr. Selwyn!” exclaimed Captain Kelvett sharply. “This is no time for drinking. Please come on deck.”

“Oh, isn't it?” retorted Selwyn. “I'm—dry! Haven't had a drink since I left the old tub.”

“Will you kindly come on deck?”

“No, I won't,” retorted Selwyn, putting down his glass and looking at Vi. “This isn't your ship anyway.”

“Don't take any notice of the man, uncle,” said Vi, turning away disgustedly, aware that the tension between them which had been automatically slackened during the stress of immediate danger had been renewed,

Without comment Captain Kelvett turned on his heel and followed Vi. The second mate had not yet returned from his search. They went along the broad wooden deck and entered the chartroom, which was, as customarily, beneath the bridge. In a drawer the captain found the ship's log-book. Skipping over the ordinary entries regarding leaving port, he turned to the last; but he gained no information, for it was merely the record of the course, wind and weather, written, he observed, on the previous night, proving that that morning the castastrophe [sic], whatever it was, had occurred.

UEER,” he commented, closing the book. “Lets see what is in here.”

He forced another locker-drawer and extracted the usual water-proof cylinder Containing the ship's papers.

“Phew!” he whistled, rapidly running over them. “This is a rich prize! General eastern. Silks and spices, you know, Vi. Queer nobody took the manifest with them!”

While waiting for the Second and the carpenter to return he mounted the upper bridge. The trigger on the dial of the engine-room telegraph still pointed to full speed. In the wheel-house he found that although there was no force of steam the pipe was still warm.

“Now the wireless,” added the captain, and hastened along to the operator's cabin. if!” he exclaimed, standing and looking at the machine. “I don't know how to work the thing, but there isn't any juice anyway.”

“That's true,” replied Vi.

Nothing in the room was disturbed; the records and copies of the operator lay about on the desk, and a pen lying beside them suggested that the man had recently left.

“Perhaps he was killed?” suggested Vi.

“Mebbe. Anyway here's the second. Well, Mr. Carnell?”

“Had a Lascar crew, sir. They've abandoned the ship. Three boats gone. The chief, two other engineers and a young fellow who looks like the wireless man are lying in the messroom dead. Funny; they were evidently at breakfast, too! No sign of life anywhere. Engine-room and sake hole evidently abandoned on the jump. Fires unraked and still warm.”

“H'm. And you, Chips?” to the carpenter, who had come up with a sounding line in his hand.

“About six inches in No. 4 and slot two or three in the others. Dry as a bone, sir.”

The captain looked at his niece, who looked at Carnell.

“Can't make head nor tail of it, sir,” said Carnell.

“Neither can I,” admitted the captain.

“Those people seem to have been gassed or chloroformed,” said Vi slowly.

“Chloroformed!” echoed her uncle. “But how? They were at table. The smell would be there.”

“The skylight and ports are all open, sir,” suggested Carnell.

“Well, I don't know,” said Vi, “but that's what they look like. I've seen chloroform effects often enough, the Lord knows, and— Or gassed—not chlorin [sic], of course.”

“Well, whatever it was they've left us a fine ship,” remarked Carnell, looking about him appreciatively.

“By Heavens, yes,” assented Captain Kelvett as if suddenly seeing a new point of view. “She's general eastern too, Mr. Carnell. You'd better get the boat inboard. Send a couple of the most reliable men to search her right through and report.

“And then we'd better get under way. Wait. Do you know anything about the wireless?”

“No, sir,” said Carnell, shaking his head.

“H'm.”

Captain Kelvett pouted his lips.

“Well, we'll try and turn these fellows into stokers.”

“One of them is the donkeyman, sir.”

“Good. He ought to know enough to get steam on her anyway. Oh, and Mr. Carnell!”

“Yes, sir?”

“Better get those bodies removed as soon as possible.”

“Aye, aye, sir; I'll attend to that.”

“But I want to see them again,” exclaimed Vi.

“But, Vi, dear”

“Don't be idiotic, uncle,” retorted Vi. “We haven't even examined them to see what they really have died of. You can't hold a post mortem by looking at them. I'll go now.”

She descended below forthwith, followed by her uncle. Vi approached the bodies arranged in such solemn sleep around the table and handled them with the dexterity and proper callousness of the trained nurse, watched by her uncle, who seemed as unable as ever to realize any professional utility in a woman.

“I thought,” remarked Vi as she left the dead captain, “that perhaps they had been poisoned, but this stout man here hasn't yet touched his food; and notice, uncle, he hasn't received his cup of coffee.”

She examined again. the footprint upon the table-cloth, but failed to gather any suggestion. After raising the eyelids of the dead girl, who had been about fourteen years old, she exclaimed and pulled back the muslin sleeve upon the arm.

“Come here!” she called to the captain. “Look! Isn't that a human bite?”

The captain stared at the semi-circular blue marks upon the cold white flesh.

“Certainly looks like it,” he assented. “Yes; it couldn't well be a dog. But how could that”

“Don't know. Seems to me that they've been drugged by some suffocating medium. We must find out what has done these poor souls to death. Get me some scissors, please. What's that?”

A noise of bottles being moved sounded. The captain walked over quickly and looked in the pantry, where he discovered Chi Loo busily investigating the cupboards.

“Oh, Chi Loo,” said the captain. “Where has Mr. Selwyn gone?”

“No see Mistle Sellyn,” responded Loo, continuing his work.

“But we left him here. You must have seen him. He hasn't come on deck.”

“No see Mistle Sellyn,” repeated Chi Loo blandly. “P'laps he cussee too muchee.”