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The Dark Star, a novel by Robert W. Chambers |
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Chapter 19. The Captain Of The Volhynia |
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_ CHAPTER XIX. THE CAPTAIN OF THE VOLHYNIA The captain of the _Volhynia_ had just come from the bridge and was taking a bite of late supper in his cabin when the orderly announced Neeland. He rose at once, offering a friendly hand: "Mr. Neeland, I am very glad to see you. I know you by name and reputation already. There were some excellent pictures by you in the latest number of the _Midweek Magazine_." "I'm so glad you liked them, Captain West." "Yes, I did. There was a breeze in them--a gaiety. And such a fetching girl you drew for your heroine!" "You think so! It's rather interesting. I met a young girl once--she comes from up-state where I come from. There was a peculiar and rather subtle attraction about her face. So I altered the features of the study I was making from my model, and put in hers as I remembered them." "She must be beautiful, Mr. Neeland." "It hadn't struck me so until I drew her from memory. And there's more to the story. I never met her but twice in my life--the second time under exceedingly dramatic circumstances. And now I'm crossing the Atlantic at a day's notice to oblige her. It's an amusing story, isn't it?" "Mr. Neeland, I think it is going to be what you call a 'continued' story." "No. Oh, no. It ought to be, considering its elements. But it isn't. There's no further romance in it, Captain West." The captain's smile was pleasant but sceptical. They seated themselves, Neeland declining an invitation to supper, and the captain asking his indulgence if he talked while eating. "Mr. Neeland," he said, "I'm about to talk rather frankly with you. I have had several messages by wireless today from British sources, concerning you." Neeland, surprised, said nothing. Captain West finished his bite of supper; the steward removed the dishes and went out, closing the door. The captain glanced at the box which Neeland had set on the floor by his chair. "May I ask," he said, "why you brought your suitcase with you?" "It's valuable." The captain's keen eyes were on his. "Why are you followed by spies?" he asked. Neeland reddened. "Yes," continued the captain of the _Volhynia_, "my Government instructs me, by wireless, to offer you any aid and protection you may desire. I am informed that you carry papers of military importance to a certain foreign nation with which neither England nor France are on what might be called cordial terms. I am told it is likely that agents of this foreign country have followed you aboard my ship for the purpose of robbing you of these papers. Now, Mr. Neeland, what do you know about this business?" "Very little," said Neeland. "Have you had any trouble?" "Oh, yes." The captain smiled: "Evidently you have wriggled out of it," he said. "Yes, wriggled is the literal word." "Then you do not think that you require any protection from me?" "Perhaps I do. I've been a singularly innocent and lucky ass. It's merely chance that my papers have not been stolen, even before I started in quest of them." "Have you been troubled aboard my ship?" Neeland waved his hand carelessly: "Nothing to speak of, thank you." "If you have any charge to make----" "Oh, no." The captain regarded him intently: "Let me tell you something," he said. "Since we sailed, have you noticed the bulletins posted containing our wireless news?" "Yes, I've read them." "Did they interest you?" "Yes. You mean that row between Austria and Servia over the Archduke's murder?" "I mean exactly that, Mr. Neeland. And now I am going to tell you something else. Tonight I had a radio message which I shall not post on the bulletins for various reasons. But I shall tell you under the seal of confidence." "I give you my word of honour," said Neeland quietly. "I accept it, Mr. Neeland. And this is what has happened: Austria has decided on an ultimatum to Servia. And probably will send it." They remained silent for a moment, then the captain continued: "Why should we deceive ourselves? This is the most serious thing that has happened since the Hohenzollern incident which brought on the Franco-Prussian War." Neeland nodded. "You see?" insisted the captain. "Suppose the humiliation is too severe for Servia to endure? Suppose she refuses the Austrian terms? Suppose Austria mobilises against her? What remains for Russia to do except to mobilise? And, if Russia does that, what is going to happen in Germany? And then, instantly and automatically, what will follow in France?" His mouth tightened grimly. "England," he said, "is the ally of France. Ask yourself, Mr. Neeland, what are the prospects of this deadly combination and deadlier situation." After a few moments the young man looked up from his brown study: "I'd like to ask you a question--perhaps not germane to the subject. May I?" "Ask it." "Then, of what interest are Turkish forts to any of the various allied nations--to the Triple Entente or the Triple Alliance?" "Turkish fortifications?" "Yes--plans for them." The captain glanced instinctively at the box beside Neeland's chair, but his features remained incurious. "Turkey is supposed to be the ally of Germany," he said. "I've heard so. I know that the Turkish army is under German officers. But--if war should happen, is it likely that this ramshackle nation which was fought to a standstill by the Balkan Alliance only a few months ago would be likely to take active sides?" "Mr. Neeland, it is not only likely, it is absolutely certain." "You believe Germany would count on her?" "There is not a doubt of it. Enver Pasha holds the country in his right hand; Enver Pasha is the Kaiser's jackal." "But Turkey is a beaten, discredited nation. She has no modern guns. Her fleet is rusting in the Bosporus." "The Dardanelles bristle with Krupp cannon, Mr. Neeland, manned by German gunners. Von der Goltz Pasha has made of a brave people a splendid army. As for ships, the ironclads and gunboats off Seraglio Point are rusting at anchor, as you say; but there are today enough German and Austrian armored ships within running distance of the Dardanelles to make for Turkey a powerful defensive squadron. Didn't you know any of these facts?" "No." "Well, they _are_ facts.... You see, Mr. Neeland, we English sailors of the merchant marine are also part of the naval reserve. And we are supposed to know these things." Neeland was silent. "Mr. Neeland," he said, "in case of war between the various powers of Europe as aligned today, where do you imagine your sympathy would lie--and the sympathies of America?" "Both with France and England," said Neeland bluntly. "You think so?" "Yes, I do--unless they are the aggressors." The captain nodded: "I feel rather that way myself. I feel very sure of the friendliness of your country. Because of course we--France and England--never would dream of attacking the Central Powers unless first assailed." He smiled, nodded toward the box on the floor: "Don't you think, Mr. Neeland, that it might be safer to entrust those--that box, I mean--to the captain of the Royal Mail steamer, _Volhynia_?" "Yes, I do," said Neeland quietly. "And--about these spies. Do you happen to entertain any particular suspicions concerning any of the passengers on my ship?" urged the captain. "Indeed, I entertain lively suspicions, and even a few certainties," replied the young fellow, laughing. "You appear to enjoy the affair?" "I do. I've never had such a good time. I'm not going to spoil it by suggesting that you lock up anybody, either." "I'm sorry you feel that way," said the captain seriously. "But I do. They're friends of mine. They've given me the time of my life. A dirty trick I'd be serving myself as well as them if I came to you and preferred charges against them!" The captain inspected him curiously for a few moments, then, in a soft voice: "By any chance, Mr. Neeland, have you any Irish blood in your veins?" "Yes, thank God!" returned the young fellow, unable to control his laughter. "And I'll bet there isn't a drop in you, Captain West." "Not a drop, thank G--I'm sorry!--I ask your pardon, Mr. Neeland!" added the captain, very red in the face. But Neeland laughed so hard that, after a moment, the red died out in the captain's face and a faint grin came into it. So they shook hands and said good night; and Neeland went away, leaving his box on the floor of the captain's cabin as certain of its inviolability as he was of the Bank of England. _ |
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