TERROR ON BOARD

THAT Chéri-Bibi had found accomplices on board, the Captain was bound to acknowledge, but that Sister St. Mary of the Angels should be involved in the criminal’s escape was beyond his comprehension. Though this last point was one which greatly harassed him, he had no intention of wasting time by investigating it at that moment.

The main thing, to begin with, was to recapture the scoundrel, alive or dead, come what may, and he would afterwards endeavor “to explain the inexplicable.” In order to carry out his project, Barrachon determined to “turn everything upside down in the old tub.”

There is no need to describe in detail an undertaking which was without result. It was in vain that they searched and inspected the vessel from mast to keel, and that numbers of armed military overseers and sailors crowded into the hold with, as it were, the courage of despair and thirsting for revenge. Nothing was discovered.

The main bilge-well itself was entirely emptied. It was hoped, in the end, that the scoundrel and the terrible woman who was with him in his mad adventure were drowned, but unfortunately the searchers were soon undeceived. A plucky cabin boy, who made the dangerous venture of entering the well, came back without having seen the least thing. Chéri-Bibi and the Countess could not be found.

“I will have the coal bunkers cleared. I will have the hold cleared, and all the goods turned out and put back again. I swear that we’ll find him,” shouted the Captain, who had lost all his pleasantness of manner. He renewed his oath over the bodies of the hapless warders, which were “thrown to the sharks” in a sack after a moving religious service at which all on board mingled their prayers and tears, save Sister St. Mary of the Angels, who did not put in an appearance.

At lunch, after this sad ceremony, when the principal persons on board were brought together under the Captain’s presidency, the Sister’s absence was mentioned, and the warrant officers who were present the night before, and witnessed the little scene from the chart-room, which overlooked the deck, expressed their astonishment.

The Captain did not tell them of his interview with Sister St. Mary, and he kept the Toper’s writing to himself, attributing the nun’s absence from the service to her indisposition. Sister St. Mary’s attitude, however, perplexed him as much as anyone, but he determined not to let it be seen, for he considered that quite enough mysteries were being talked about on board.

And then he intended, after lunch, to visit and question the nun once more, and he believed that this time he would succeed in “pumping” her. Fully resolved to spare no one, and perturbed by the responsibility that he would incur if he failed to capture Chéri-Bibi, he replied to the questions which one and the other put to him by grunts.

He wondered why the Lieutenant had not yet joined him at table. He was told that the officer must have been detained in the execution of his duty.... Afterwards there was a depressing silence; for the thoughts of all of them were centered on Chéri-Bibi and the Countess.

“The end of it will be that they’ll both die of hunger and thirst if they don’t show themselves,” groaned the Overseer General.

“I don’t think so!” said the Inspector. “If they are in any of the holds they’ll find a way of getting some sort of food. There are provisions in the holds, nice things. In my opinion they have enough friends on board to be able to get water.”

“Then such men will suffer for it,” declared Barrachon. “Whoever they are, they must know that they’ll be shot at the same time as Chéri-Bibi. Any man who assists the scoundrel in the slightest degree will be served like him.”

“What about the woman if we find her? Will she be shot, Captain?”

“Do you imagine that I shall stand on ceremony? Shot or hanged, they will not escape punishment. But where is M. de Vilène? Has anything fresh happened? De Kerrosgouët, go and see.”

The Sub-Lieutenant left the table, and returned in a few minutes. He had not seen the Lieutenant, but had been told that he was below in the cages.

“He is no doubt devoting himself to a supplementary inspection,” said Barrachon. “Perhaps he is having the kit bags ransacked. He’s got that affair of the bottles of rum on the brain. He was speaking to me about it again this morning, and said he wouldn’t feel quite easy until he had cleared things up.”

De Kerrosgouët sat down again. The dishes were passed round, but once more the conversation languished.

At dessert the Captain broke a glass while emphasizing that Chéri-Bibi must be somewhere or other. His opinion was shared by the company. Nevertheless the Overseer General said:

“Of course he is somewhere, but perhaps after all he is not on board.”

And he diffidently put forward the theory that the awful couple had left the _Bayard_.

“What do you mean?” asked Barrachon with a shrug of his shoulders. “None of the boats are missing.... And we should have seen them.”

“They may simply have thrown themselves into the sea.”

“But how?” Barrachon burst out again. “It would be known. Every means of egress below is barred, and if they had come up on deck we might, perhaps, with all the wealth of sentries on the watch, have seen them!... Absurd! Let’s argue the thing out, but, let’s talk sense.”

The Overseer General apologized, but he made the mistake of adding:

“It’s a great pity.”

“What’s a great pity?” asked the Captain in a tone which became more and more abrupt.

“Well ... it’s a pity that they haven’t left the ship. It would have been a good riddance.”

The Captain gave a start.

“You think so, do you? Well, allow me to tell you that you have a strange notion of your duty. As far as I am concerned, Chéri-Bibi was confided to my care. If I don’t see him again, living or dead, I know what the alternative for me will be.”

The Captain spoke in such a tone that the others were very disagreeably impressed. They shivered to the very marrow. They already saw, in imagination, the worthy Barrachon blowing his brains out. And what endless trouble for them afterwards! What a terrible responsibility! They would not forget No. 3216 in a hurry!

Meanwhile the Lieutenant was still absent. When coffee was served Barrachon was in a state of alarm and at the end of his endurance. He left the mess to look for the Lieutenant himself. De Vilène might have discovered something fresh.

But the Captain’s anxiety only became deeper after he had searched the upper and lower decks. He could not find de Vilène anywhere. And no one had seen him for more than an hour. Some of them thought that they noticed him going below to the cages, but the convict guards stated that he had not visited them.

When the officers joined him the Captain was in an agony of suspense. Every man set to work and the search proceeded with greater energy than ever. Nothing was found in de Vilène’s cabin which could put them on the track. The crew were now fully aware of his strange disappearance, and men as well as officers endeavored to probe the mystery. They shouted the Lieutenant’s name throughout the ship. It might be that he had been taken ill. It might be that he had suddenly met Chéri-Bibi and was killed.

After vainly searching for him living they sought to find his dead body.

But they were unable to find him living or dead. And a general consternation swept through the ship.

Then every man on board, from the passengers to the least important merchant, was seized with a peculiar agitation which originated in fear and reached its climax in frenzy.

Literally they became desperate. And no wonder!

The Captain had the work of the world to keep the fury of these men within bounds, for, without the least excuse, they wanted to break the heads of the old offenders. Revolvers were continually being pointed at them through the bars. Threats of death were uttered every moment, and yet the convicts had never behaved themselves so well. Even the Top had ceased his hateful chuckle, for he realized that if he laughed again it would be for the last time.

The Inspector and the Overseer General, overwhelmed by the Lieutenant’s disappearance and wondering if their turn might not come soon, resolved to link up their duties and to work together.

A desire to be revenged on something or someone impelled them to ask the Captain to place the men in the cages on a “bread and water” diet, and to abolish the exercise on deck.

But Barrachon, who had been to his cabin to plunge his head into a basin of cold water, for he feared a stroke of apoplexy, came out with a gleam of sanity and refused to listen to any such dangerous measure.

Every revolver was taken out of its case. Even the women on the decks were armed, and no one went alone into the alley-ways although sentries were posted in them at specified intervals.

The new and appalling incident of the Lieutenant’s disappearance caused the Captain to forget for the moment the strange conduct of Sister St. Mary. But she herself was soon to remind him of her existence. It was an amazing thing, but this saintly girl who had not been seen during the whole day, even at the burial service, showed herself on deck, as on the day before, when the Toper’s horrible gang was brought up.

Barrachon caught sight of her when she appeared, and stood watching her without letting himself be seen.

She reached the guards, dragging herself along by the port-hole, and here, leaning against the ship’s side for support, she began to tell her beads. She seemed so weak that the Captain expected to see her collapse at any moment on the deck, as he had seen her, the day before, fall in an inert mass in her cabin.

She was of a death-like pallor, but her eyes were extraordinarily bright. She was praying, and her gaze was fixed on the Toper, who had just taken up the position of the day before and was apparently preparing to “post” his letter.

Thus Barrachon comprehended the object of which Sister St. Mary was on deck. She had come up to warn Chéri-Bibi’s friend that he must put an end to the correspondence.

It was this message, to all appearance, that was expressed so eloquently by her eyes, her wide, beautiful flashing eyes. It was this that was indicated by the slight movement of her head from right to left and left to right, a telegraphic negative. No more letters must be slipped between the planks. And it was this that the Toper understood, for the ruffian scrambled to his feet when he saw the Sister, and placed his hand in his pocket.

Barrachon at once showed himself, and at a bound was at the side of the guards.

“Search that man,” he cried, pointing to the convict. “At once ... at once.... Seize him by the arms ... seize him by the arms.”

Two military overseers rushed at the Toper, but he quickly shook them off and was fumbling in his pocket for the paper, meaning to put it in his mouth.

“The paper ... the paper, ...” shouted the Captain. “Seize him by the arms.”

The convict was of herculean strength, and clutching one warder by the throat and getting free from the other, swallowed the paper. The first guard was gasping for breath, and unable to carry out the Captain’s orders.

“Fire ... fire, man,” he shouted.

The Captain himself leveled his revolver, but it was a guard who fired the shot straight at the Toper’s heart.

Nevertheless the convict did not receive the bullet. Sister St. Mary of the Angels had thrown herself into the fray, and lifted her shaking arm towards the weapon which hurled forth death. The shot passed through the poor girl’s hand and shoulder, and she sank in a huddled heap on the deck. The Toper, meantime, stood quietly with folded arms; and while Sister St. Mary was being carried off to the sick-bay, the Captain gave orders for him to be taken to the cells and put in irons. He was led away there and then. Barrachon, the Inspector, and the Overseer General went below to the lower deck with the procession of guards and their prisoner.

The Captain was determined to question the Toper at once, for he would be tried the next day by court martial, and undoubtedly shot for mutiny and attempted murder of a warder. It was the moment, if there ever was one, to make an example.

When they reached the alley-way in which the cells were situated, Sergeant Pascaud declared that there was but one cell available, since it would not do to put the Toper in the cell from which the Countess had escaped. The cavity had not yet been blocked up. The only remaining cell was that in which Chéri-Bibi had been placed in irons, and in which were found the bodies of the murdered warders. Barrachon gave orders for the cell door to be opened, and Pascaud opened it.

The guards on a sign from the Captain were preparing to put the Toper in irons, an operation to which he offered no resistance, when they started back, uttering an exclamation. They could see something there in the darkness; a figure was lying there. A man in irons was there.

The object could be seen only vaguely in the dim light, and the guards might have thought that Chéri-Bibi had miraculously returned. The Captain, the Inspector, and the Overseer General darted forward, and lanterns were brought nearer. There was a simultaneous cry: de Vilène!

Yes, the object that lay there was indeed no other than Lieutenant de Vilène, the second-in-command on board, and his feet and wrists were imprisoned in Chéri-Bibi’s irons in place of Chéri-Bibi himself.... Moreover, the Lieutenant had assumed a dark hue and there was not the least sign of life about him.... A stout gag was bound over his mouth, nose and eyes.

The gag was at once removed, and men carried the Lieutenant into the alley-way and made him breathe; at least they endeavored to restore his breathing. For some moments it looked as if he were a dead man.

At length his breast heaved, and a deep sigh proclaimed that life had returned to his motionless body.

De Vilène gazed around him with a dazed look and said:

“Captain!”

His life was saved. But it was a narrow escape. He confessed as much.

“Oh, I thought it was all over with me,” he said.

While they were lavishing attentions on the Lieutenant, to whom they gave a glass of rum brought by one of the guards, Barrachon went back to the cell, and the other officers followed him in order to verify the miracle once more.

The cell was still completely closed like a box, and it was impossible to conceive by what artifice a man could get out and another man get in without passing through the door. Barrachon vented his rage on the walls, which he struck with his fists without being able to solve the mystery. There was but one key of the padlock, and it was said to be the only key that would unlock Chéri-Bibi’s irons.

Now Chéri-Bibi had divested himself of the irons and fixed the Lieutenant in them, and locked them afterwards without using the key. Sergeant Pascaud, who was absolutely bewildered and still more cast down than the Captain when he learnt of the escape of No. 3216, exclaimed:

“Upon my word, Captain, I’ve only once in my life seen anything to be compared with it. It was at the end of a performance by some jugglers in a café in my village. One of the men was shut up in a trunk, which was padlocked, bound with ropes, and sealed with red sealing wax by persons present. We took care to fasten the ropes ourselves in knots which we learnt how to tie from sailors. Well, a covering was thrown over the trunk, and the jugglers counted ten. When the covering was taken off our man was free, with nothing to hamper his movements, standing by the side of the trunk, which was still closed, tied firmly, sealed and padlocked. Do you know what I think? Chéri-Bibi may have been a conjurer at one time. He must know the tricks of all the trades, must that particular bird.”

Meantime the Lieutenant was taken to his cabin, where the Captain joined him. He was ravenously hungry and thirsty, and food and drink were brought in. He was able to speak. And he told a story which was somewhat vague but extremely formidable, and gave those who were present food for thought regarding the extraordinary power of the diabolical Chéri-Bibi.

The incident happened in the morning immediately after the burial service. De Vilène, in common with the Captain and everyone else, was astonished that Sister St. Mary was not present during the reading of the prayers for the dead. Was she ill? He determined to make inquiries, and proceeded to the nun’s cabin. He had nearly reached it, and was turning the corner by the canteen when he was seized from behind with incredible swiftness and violence.

He could not make a movement nor utter a cry. A gag was suffocating him, and at least four men--de Vilène estimated that his aggressors consisted of not less than four men--reduced him to helplessness. Tied up as though he were a bundle, and unable to grasp what was happening, he did not know where they were taking him, nor could he say, even approximately, where they placed him for the time being. But he knew that they left him for a while to himself; and they even took the precaution to loosen slightly the gag which covered his nose so that he might not suffocate on the spot. Nevertheless, the place could not have been far from the cook’s galley for the odor of cooking reached him. True, the decks were impregnated with this odor toward lunch time.

At length men came to fetch him. They carried him some distance; then they fastened a rope round him, and let him down into space. He wondered, for a moment, if his aggressors were not thus lowering him into the sea, intending to drown him quietly so that there might be no opportunity for anyone to come to his assistance. Soon, however, he reached a resting place. He struck against some hard surface. Here he was pushed along, then carried, and afterwards put down again, by persons who did not utter a word. More than once he was lifted over some obstacle to be let down again a few minutes later, and he imagined that he was in the hold. But in which hold? In which store-room? He was unable to say.

After several rough impacts--they didn’t spare him, but treated him as though he were a bale of goods--they laid him on the planks, then on an iron bar, and slipped his feet and wrists into the fetters. He assumed that his enemies had decided to leave him there, in the hold, in irons, to die of hunger. A few minutes later his breathing failed him and he lost consciousness.

The story was an appalling one because though it furnished no indication as to Chéri-Bibi’s hiding-place, it proved first that he was moving about the ship at will, and next that he had accomplices who were active and free, and whose numbers were unknown. It was this last consideration which was by far the most important, for it raised the question: whom could they trust in future?

The Captain remained alone with the Lieutenant and expressed to him the thoughts to which the tragic accident gave rise. But de Vilène was no longer concerned with the danger from which he had escaped. Like the Captain, he realized, above all, that they were surrounded by foes, and that their troubles were, perhaps, only beginning.

Newly embarked on an old vessel whose crew was gathered together at the last moment, with men and women passengers, clerks, and government officials, who for the most part had been sent to Cayenne because the metropolis had no further use for them, they did not know with whom they had to deal, and they had no inkling of the real mind of any of them.

Nevertheless they could trust the sailors and the chiefs of the military guard who had stood the test elsewhere, but was it not possible that some black sheep had crept into the flock unknown to them? It was much to be feared. Indeed it was certain that it was so.

De Vilène had been attacked by several men. He could vouch for it. What were those men? Anarchists perhaps, or pretended anarchists.... At all events they knew that under cover of the name those men were capable of anything and everything. It was they, undoubtedly, who had, for so long, helped Chéri-Bibi to evade the police, who had backed him up in his monstrous crimes, who had sworn to avenge him, and who on the very morning of his trial had blown up Ferdy’s restaurant.

What might not be expected from such bandits who had declared a deadly war on society? They would stick at nothing. Some of them, doubtless, had sailed on the same vessel as Chéri-Bibi in order to rescue him, and this, too, with the assistance of the authorities who were the first to be duped, and whom these men played with at their own sweet will. Well, if this were so, it was war; it meant fighting. Barrachon and de Vilène were fighting men. They shook each other by the hand.

Cheered and strengthened by this demonstration, they stood silent for a while. A few minutes later they went on deck.

Apart from the men on duty and the military guards, who maintained an eager watch, the deck was deserted. Everyone had returned to his berth. The Toper’s action and Sister St. Mary’s wound, followed by the amazing discovery of the Lieutenant in Chéri-Bibi’s irons--these things were discussed in all the cabins with bated breath.

What was the mystery of the cell? What sort of cell was it in which such demoniacal things could happen? The ghostly figure of Chéri-Bibi seemed to increase to enormous dimensions. And the general terror was doubled by the growing feeling that anarchists were on board who were determined at any cost to save the monster. Supposing that they fired the ship? Supposing that they blew her up? Who could prevent them? When the passengers heard the least commotion behind the doors, how eager they were to explain it away! When they heard footsteps in the alley-way, how intensely they wished them to move on! Two nights had passed without sleep. If the Captain were wise he would at once return to Europe ... that was certain ... quickly.... What a voyage it was!