Yorke The Adventurer, George Lewis Becke [top business books of all time txt] 📗

by one who was as yet but a young seaman, and a poor navigator.

"I am quite sure," he said in his slow, quiet way, as he passed me the pipe, "that you and I will get along here all right for weeks, months--years even, if it has pleased the Almighty to take our shipmates, and we have to live here till we are taken off by some ship, or can build a boat. Your knowledge of ways and means of getting food, and living in such a place as this, is of more value than my seamanship and knowledge of navigation. Come, let us get out to the beach and take a look at the weather."

He placed his hand on my shoulder in such a kindly manner, as his bright blue eyes looked into mine, that, with the impulsiveness of youth, together with my intense admiration for the character of the man himself, I could not help saying:

"Captain Yorke! Please don't think I was boasting of what I could do in the way of getting food for us--and all that. You see, I have been in the South Seas ever since I was a kid--and by nature I'm half a Kanaka. I've lived among natives so long, and----"

He held up his hand, smiling the while: "I'm glad to have such a good comrade as you, Drake. You have the makings of a good sailorman in you, but you're too quick and excitable, and want an old wooden-headed, stolid buffer like me to steady you. Now let us start."

We walked across the narrow strip of land to the weather side, and sat down upon a creeper-covered boulder of coral rock. Before us the ocean still heaved tumultuously, and the long, white-crested breakers thundered heavily on the short, fringing reef; but overhead was a wondrous sky of myriad stars, set in a vault of cloudless blue.

"The gale is blowing itself out," said my companion. "We shall see a fine day in the morning. And, Drake, we shall see the brigantine back in three days."

"I hope so," I said, laughingly, "but I'm afraid we won't. Both the brigantine and cutter must have had to heave to, or else run, and if they have run, they may be two hundred miles away from here by now. And I think that Guest _would_ run to the westward for open water, instead of heaving-to among such an infernal lot of reefs and shoals."

"Whatever he may have done, he, and my cutter, too, are safe, and we shall see them back in three days," he reiterated, with such quiet emphasis, and with such a strangely confident, contented look in his eyes, that I also felt convinced the vessels would, as he said, turn up safely.

We sat silent for some minutes, watching the sea, and noting how quickly the wind was falling, when presently my comrade turned to me.

"You asked me why I did not try to make the German head station in Blanche Bay, after my crew were killed," he said. "Well, I'll tell you. I am frightened of no man living, but I happened to hear the name of the manager there--a-Captain Sternberg, an ex-captain of the German navy. He and I served together in the same ship--and I am a deserter from the German service."

I was astonished. "You!" I exclaimed; "surely you are not a German?"

"Indeed, I am," he replied, "and if I fell into the hands or the German naval authorities, or any German Consul, or other official anywhere, I should have but a short time in this world."

"Why, what could they do?"

"Send me home to be tried--and shot."

"Surely they cannot shoot a man for desertion in the German navy."

"There is something beyond desertion in my case-- I killed an officer. Sternberg knows the whole story, and though as a man and a gentleman he would feel for me, he would have no hesitation in arresting me and sending me home in irons, if he could get me. And he could not fail to recognise me, although eight and twenty years have passed since he last saw me."

"But he is not an Imperial officer now," I remarked.

"Yes, he is. He is Vice-Consul for Germany in the Western Pacific, and, as such, would have authority to apprehend me, and apprehend me he certainly would, though, as I have said, he knows my story, and when we served together, was always a kind and good friend to me, despite the fact that he was an officer and I was not; for I came from as good a family as his own--and that goes a long way in both the German army and navy."

I made some sympathetic remark, and then Yorke resumed:

"What I am telling you now--and I'll tell you the whole story--is no secret, for thousands of people have read of the Brandt extradition case in the United States. Twenty years ago I was arrested in San Francisco at the instance of the German Consul there, but managed to escape after being in custody for six weeks.

"My real name is Brandt. My father was a German, my mother a Danish lady--a native of Klampenborg, a small sea-coast town not far from Copenhagen. My father was an officer in the army, and was well-known as an Asiatic traveller and linguist, and I was the only child. At fifteen years ot age, much to my delight, I went into the navy, served one commission in the Baltic, and two on the west coast of South America. Then when I was about twenty-one years of age, I was given, through my father's influence, a minor position on the staff of a scientific expedition sent out by the German Geographical Society to Arabia. I came home at the end of a year, and was given three months' leave, at the end of which I was to join a new ship.

"Being pretty liberally supplied with money by my father--who was a man of means--I determined to spend my leave in London, and there I met the woman who was to prove the ruin of my future. She was the daughter of the woman in whose house I lodged in Chelsea, and was a very handsome, fascinating girl about nineteen. I fell madly in love with her, and she professed to return my feelings, and I, poor young fool, believed in her. Her mother, who was a cunning old harridan, and greedy and avaricious to a degree, gave us every opportunity of being together. As I spent my money most lavishly on the girl, and they both knew my father was well-off, and I was the only son, they had merely to spread their net for me to fall into it.

"Well, I married the girl, both she and her mother promising to keep the matter secret from my parents until after I returned from my next voyage and got a commission. I knew well that I should get into very serious trouble with my superiors if the fact of my marriage became known, but was so infatuated with the girl that I allowed no considerations to influence me.

"A month before my leave expired, I sent my wife over to Bremerhaven, where I had some friends on whose secrecy I could rely. My ship--a small gunboat--was being fitted out at that port, and my wife seemed delighted that she would see me pretty frequently before I sailed. I was cautious enough not to travel with her from London, for that would have meant almost certain detection, and, as an additional precaution, she went to my friends in Bremerhaven under her maiden name. I was to follow her in a week, by the next steamer.

"That evening, as I was being driven home to my wife's mother's house in Chelsea, the horse bolted. I was thrown out of the cab, and half-an-hour later, I was in a hospital with a broken arm and severe internal injuries. It was six weeks before I was able to leave England to join my ship; but my father had written to the navy office, telling of my accident, and my leave had been extended. During all this time my wife wrote to me weekly, telling me she was very miserable at my not allowing her to return to England to nurse me, but would obey me; for I had written to her and told her not to return, as I did not think it advisable--the doctors and nurses at the hospital knew I was in the German navy, and I was then becoming somewhat fearful of the news of my marriage getting to the knowledge of the naval authorities.

"When I reached Bremerhaven, I had still three days of my extended leave to expire, so had no need to report myself; but at once went to my friends' house, where I met my wife, who was overjoyed to see me again. My friends, too, welcomed me warmly, though I somehow fancied there seemed to be some underlying restraint upon them. They were quite a young couple: the husband was a clerk in the customhouse, and he and I had been friends from boyhood.

"In the morning I went to look at my new ship, and was greatly pleased to find that my old officer, Lieutenant Sternberg, had been appointed to her. He saw me at once, came along the deck, and spoke very kindly to me. Whilst he was talking to me, an officer from the port guardship came on board. He was a very handsome man, about thirty, with a deep scar across his forehead, and I noticed that he looked at me very keenly--almost rudely--and I fancied I saw something like a sneer on his face as he turned away to speak to Sternberg.

"My young friend, the custom house clerk, whose name was Muller, returned every day from his office at six o'clock, when we had supper, and on this occasion I began to tell him of my new ship, and then said casually:

"By the way, who is that conceited-looking fellow from the guardship--a man with an ugly scar across his forehead?"

"No one answered, and then to my surprise I saw that Muller was looking inquiringly at my wife, whose face suddenly became scarlet, while Mrs. Muller bent her face over her plate. Then Muller looked at me and said quietly:

"'That was Captain Decker. I believe that he has the honour of the friendship of Frau Brandt.'

"There was something so stern in his tones that I could not understand; but another look at my wife's face filled me with the blackest misgivings. She had turned a deathly pale, and, faltering something inaudible, rose from the table and went to her room. Then I asked Muller what it meant.

"'Ask your wife,' he said sadly; 'you are my dear friend, and she is my guest--but her conduct has not been satisfactory.'

"I now insisted upon him telling me more, and soon learnt the whole miserable story. My wife had been in the habit of meeting Captain Decker clandestinely ever since she had been in Bremerhaven, although she had denied it when Mrs. Muller had indignantly threatened to write and tell me if she did not at once cease the intimacy. This she had sworn to do, but, Muller said, she had, he feared, violated her promise frequently, though he could not absolutely prove it.

"I went direct to my wife. Instead of a shrinking, trembling woman, I found a defiant devil--a shameless creature who coolly admitted her guilt, told me that she had never cared for me, and that she had only married