The British Mysteries Edition: 14 Novels & 70+ Short Stories. Sapper
glance at the Paquinetta—but they were not given much time to think about it. We hoisted in the small boat, lowered away the big one, and a marline spike removed any reluctance to man it. The second mate was left in charge, with strict orders to keep a sharp look out, and we started off.
"It had been hot in the creek, but once round the bend of the river out of sight of the open sea it became almost unbearable. Not a breath of wind stirred, and the air seemed to press down on one like a wet blanket. Dense tropical undergrowth hemmed us in on each side: the place reeked of malaria and yellow jack. And crocodiles. I've never seen so many in my life as there were in that river, and the grim thought came to me that they might furnish a possible solution. There would be no traces left of anyone who fell into that water. I said as much in a low voice to the skipper, and he stared at me a moment or two before replying.
"'It's a rum crocodile that can climb the bridge of a ship, Blackett,' he said.
"We rowed on. He and I were sitting side by side in the stern each with a revolver on our knees. Gradually the river narrowed till the blades of the oars were almost touching the banks and the trees met overhead. It was obvious we could not go further, so the skipper gave the order to cease rowing.
"'No good trying to land here,' he remarked. 'We'll try a shout or two. Now then, lads, all together with me.'
"We bellowed 'Ahoy' at the tops of our voices, and then listened. But save for the startled whirr of birds as they rose from the tree near by there was no result—just the same steamy silent heat. We tried again, but it was useless and there was nothing for it but to return to the ship. And it was on the way back that I became conscious of a very peculiar sensation. I mentioned it to the captain afterwards, and found that he had experienced it also, though I think the men were too busy rowing to notice it. And the sensation was one of being watched. Something was keeping pace with us on one bank, something that I never saw, but yet was acutely aware of. It was not imagination, and the skipper agreed with me.
"Well, that ended our first endeavour to solve the mystery, and the point arose as to what to do next. So we held a council of war, and finally arrived at the conclusion that the best thing would be to steam slowly round the island hooting with the siren at frequent intervals, and looking for a place where we could land a party with safety. For the skipper flatly refused to let anyone go ashore in the wooded part, even if we could have got the men to volunteer, which I doubt.
"So we made the circuit of the island with the siren going every half-minute, and the result was nil. No trace of a man did we see, but the time was not wasted since we got the geography of the place in our heads. And it was clear that there was one obvious spot to land—a beach on the north of the island almost at the foot of the conical hill. But it was too late to do anything more that day, so we decided to anchor again, and wait for the next morning.
"Now the Paquinetta was lying inside us about two hundred yards from the shore, and a quarter of a mile from us. The night was dead still, and the moon was due to rise about three. And though I was tired when I came off watch at midnight I found I couldn't sleep. I couldn't get this amazing affair out of my head, so I lay down on my bunk and picked up a book. Full sea going, watch was being kept, and I could hear the second mate pacing up and down the bridge.
"Suddenly the footsteps ceased just above my porthole, and I heard him give an exclamation. And the next moment he was in my cabin.
"'There's something going on in the Paquinetta, sir,' he cried.
"I was out like a flash, and up on the bridge. Sure enough a light was moving across the deck, but it wasn't an ordinary ship's lantern. It looked more like a smoky torch, such as boys carry on Guy Fawkes's day. We watched it in silence, until it disappeared below.
"'It's that crazy fool of a cook,' I said. 'He'll probably set fire to the ship.'
"And I was on the point of rousing the skipper, when there came across the water a scream of terror so blood-curdling that I felt my hair lifting from my scalp. It was not repeated, and before I had time to decide anything, the captain joined us.
"'Did that scream come from the Paquinetta?' he asked.
"'Yes, sir,' I said. 'And there was a light moving on the deck... By Jove! there it is again.'
"The three of us stood there staring at it. As before it moved across the deck, but this time it disappeared over the side. And it seemed to me that it was moving in a curiously jerky fashion.
"Now the gangway was on the far side of the Paquinetta and the explanation of the light's movements seemed obvious. Someone had boarded her, gone below, and then left her. And while he was below something had happened to cause that ghastly scream.
"The skipper didn't hesitate, though if it had been me I'm not ashamed to confess that I think I'd have left it till dawn. He ordered a boat to be lowered and called for a couple of volunteers to go aboard the Paquinetta. We got 'em readily—a big Swede, and an Englishman. One of them took a crowbar, and the other a pickaxe, whilst the skipper and I carried our revolvers. Then with four lanterns we rowed across. Hit, and hit to kill, were the orders if we met anything.
"We came alongside the gangway, and the first thing we saw by the light of the lanterns was blood on the steps. There was a trail of it the whole way up, a trail right across the deck, a trail of it leading down below. And we followed the trail—the skipper leading and me bringing up the rear. It led past the saloon, and finished in the cook's quarters.
"Ye Gods! the place was a shambles. Just as we had found the captain's cabin, so was this, only now the blood was wet. And the skipper cursed savagely. Somebody or something had battered that poor crazy loon to death, but whatever it was it had disappeared. We searched the ship thoroughly: she was empty. And at last we pulled back to our own.
"And that very nearly brings me to the end. The next day we landed a party and climbed the hill. From it the whole of the island could be seen stretched out like a map at our feet. But of life there was no sign. Dense forest and swamp, and not a thing that moved, save that occasionally a flock of birds would rise from some tree, and then settle down again as if they had been disturbed by something passing below.
"I suggested to the captain that I should take a party of volunteers and try some exploration in the forest, but he absolutely refused to allow it.
"'We've only got three revolvers on board,' he pointed out, 'and very little ammunition. If the crew of the Paquinetta were anywhere down there they'd have heard our siren yesterday. They're dead, Mr. Mate—every man jack of them, and I'm not going to risk a similar fate for my own. You'll take command of the Paquinetta with an emergency crew, and as soon as you've got steam up—we sail.'
"And that is the story of the Paquinetta, from which you can draw your own conclusions. Every sort of theory was put forward at the time, and the one that most people accepted was that a mutiny had taken place. The landing-party which the captain had alluded to in his diary, had come on board, and having killed the skipper and the rest of the crew had gone ashore again leaving only the mad cook. Then when we arrived, fearful that the madman might say something which would give them away, they completed their work by butchering him. They dared not reply to our siren knowing what they'd done, and finally yellow jack broke out and that was the end. For the bald fact remains that from that day to this no word has been heard of any member of that crew."
"And is that your theory, Bill?" asked Jim quietly.
"No, Mr. Maitland, it isn't. Call me a superstitious sailor-man if you like but I believe the solution of the mystery is something far more horrible. And I believe it is to be found in the words of that crazy cook—'half men, half beasts.' I believe that lurking in that dense forest are beings of a certain degree of intelligence—witness the torch, which shows that they understand fire—of inner physical strength—the captain of the Paquinetta was a powerful man—and of incredible ferocity. I believe that the landing-party was butchered to a man, and that then, taking advantage of a dark night, these creatures had either swum or rowed out to the ship, and murdered those who remained on board. Why they left the mad cook I don't profess to say: perhaps he managed to hide himself from them.