William Le Queux - In White Raiment

“That’s me,” he answered, leaning against the wooden partition opposite my bunk.

“Well,” I said, “I’d like to know by what right you lock me up here? I’ve been unconscious for a long time, and on coming to myself, I find I’m here onboard your ship at sea, imprisoned, and not allowed out.”

“You’re in here for the benefit of your health,” he answered roughly. “A sea voyage’ll do you good.”

“Then perhaps you’ll tell me the name of the ship on board which I’m taking this pleasure trip?” I said sarcastically.

“Better find that out.”

“No very difficult matter, I suppose,” I answered quite coolly. “Only I should like to point out that even though you may be skipper of this coal hulk, you have no right to imprison me here.”

“I shall do just as I like, cocky,” he responded. “And further, you’d best be quiet and keep a still tongue, or perhaps you won’t see land again.”

“That’s certainly a very genteel speech,” I said; “and perhaps the British Consul at your port of destination will have something to say regarding your conduct.”

“I don’t care a brass button for all the blanked consuls in the whole Consular Service,” he replied, with a coarse laugh. “You are on board my ship, and I’ll give you to understand now, once and for all, that I’m master here.”

“Perhaps you’ll pipe to a different tune when your master’s certificate is suspended for a year or two.”

“It ’ud take a better man than you to suspend it. While you’re on board this craft, it’ll be a wise policy to keep a still tongue in your head.”

“And it will be wiser if you allow me my liberty, and just tell me how and why I came aboard here.”

“You were brought here, but for what reason I don’t know.”

“And who brought me here?”

“I don’t know. I wasn’t on board when you arrived.”

“The ship was lying in the Thames, wasn’t it?”

“Yes,” he answered. “It wasn’t on Clapham Common, that’s a certainty.”

“And where are we now?”

“At sea.”

“I’m aware of that, but in what sea – the Channel, the North Sea, or the Atlantic?”

“You’ll know soon enough. Just breathe the ozone, and make yourself comfortable. That’s all you have to do,” he responded, with his bearded chin thrust forward, in an air of unconcern.

“Well, you haven’t provided many creature comforts for me,” I remarked, with a glance round the stuffy little place.

“No, this isn’t exactly a Cunarder,” he admitted. “But I’ll tell the men to bring you some grub, at any rate. Like some duff?”

“You’re very kind; but I’d rather take a walk on deck in order to get an appetite.”

“No; the sun’s a bit too strong,” he answered waggishly. “You might get sunstroke, you know.”

“I shall be asphyxiated if I remain here.”

“Well, that’s a comfortable death, I believe. More than one chap has died for want o’ breath in the hold of this ship when we’ve been trimmin’ coal.”

“Then you refuse me my liberty?” I said, feeling that to argue pleasantly was useless.

“Yes, you’ve got to stay ’ere.”

“By whose orders?”

“That’s my own business,” he growled.

“And mine also,” I responded firmly. “You may be skipper of this craft, but you are not a gaoler, you know.”

“I’m your gaoler, at any rate.”

“That remains to be seen,” I answered. “I suppose you’ve been paid to take me out of the country, like this; but I may as well warn you that you are aiding and abetting a murder, and that when you get ashore you’ll find yourself in a very nasty position.”

“With the Consul, eh?” he laughed. “Well, they’re a decent lot, as a rule. We don’t get much trouble with ’em if we deposit our papers in order.”

“But if I demanded your arrest for illegal imprisonment?”

“I don’t fancy you’d do that, mister,” he responded with sarcasm. “It might be a bit of a bother for me in England, but the foreign police are a bit chary of touching a British capt’n.”

There was, I knew, some truth in that. Yet I did not intend to remain cooped up there, a prisoner, for the remainder of the voyage.

“Well, now, look here,” I said, in a more conciliatory tone. “Why are you not frank with me?”

“Because you ain’t responsible for your actions.”

“And that’s why you won’t allow me on deck?” He nodded.

“Then I suppose when I was handed over to your tender charge they told you I was a lunatic?”

“Well, they said you’d better be kept under restraint. I was told that you’d had a bad touch of the blues, it seems.”

“And yet you took me aboard while I was unconscious,” I said. “That was scarcely a wise proceeding was it?”

“You were here when I returned; I’ve told you I found you here.”

“Then you mean to tell me that you don’t know who paid you to take me on this pleasure trip?”

“No, I don’t. I’ve only received orders, and just observed them.”

“Orders from whom?”

“From my owners.”

“Your owners! What possible interest could your owners have in shipping me aboard while I was unconscious? Who are they?”

“Hanways, of Newcastle.”

“And what ship is this?”

“The Petrel , of Newcastle.”

“Bound for where?”

“No,” he replied. “I’ve strict orders to keep you confined in the cabin, to treat you as well as your behaviour will allow, and to tell you nothing.”

“Well, captain, you’re a sensible man, and surely you’ll listen to reason.”

“What reason? I’ve got my orders. That’s enough for me.”

“But I tell you that by this action you are aiding in the concealment of a terrible crime – the dastardly murder of a lady in London,” I burst forth.

“Of course. That’s the yarn they said you’d spin. Well, you can stow that for the present. I’ll come down and hear it over a pipe, when I want a bit of relaxation. For the time being, just you sniff the ozone, and fancy yourself in a drawin’-room.”

Then, without more ado, the burly fellow made his exit, slammed the heavy door and bolted it, leaving me still a prisoner within that tiny cabin.

The hours passed but slowly. The man who had first answered my summons brought me some food but to all my arguments he remained obdurate.

“The cap’n says you’re to stay ’ere,” he responded, “and if I let you out he’d put me in irons. Old Banfield ain’t a skipper to be trifled with, I can tell yer.”

So I remained there, filled with gloomy thoughts, and wondering where I was being taken, and what possible interest Messrs Hanway, the owners of the Petrel , could have in my forcible abduction.

I sat there, helpless and puzzled, until it grew quite dark, then my head feeling heavy, and my limbs exhausted on account of the drug that had been so ingeniously administered to me, I threw myself down, and the motion of the vessel soon lulled me to sleep.

The long green waves were sweeping past in the sunlight when I again opened my eyes, and from the porthole I could see a large steamer with a pair of red and black funnels in the distance, leaving a long trail of smoke behind her. Soon, however, she was beyond the range of my vision, and I could do nothing except sit there and review the whole situation.

The beautiful face of my murdered wife arose ever before me. It seemed to cry to me for vengeance. I was her husband, and I alone knew the truth.

Yet it was evident that I was still in the hands of enemies, and, imprisoned there, I could do nothing.