The Mystery | Page 5

and silent main-peak.
"Heave to." Now Uncle Sam was giving orders.
But the other paid no heed.
"We'll make that a little more emphatic," said Captain Parkinson. A
moment later there was the sharp crash of a gun and a shot went across
the bows of the sailing vessel. Hastened by a flaw of wind that veered
from the normal direction of the breeze the stranger made sharply to
windward, as if to obey.
"Ah, there she comes," ran the comment along the cruiser's
quarter-deck.
But the schooner, after standing for a moment, all flapping, answered
another flaw, and went wide about on the opposite tack.

"Derelict," remarked Captain Parkinson. "She seems to be in good
shape, too, Dr. Trendon!"
"Yes, sir." The surgeon went to the captain, and the others could hear
his deep, abrupt utterance in reply to some question too low for their
ears.
"Might be, sir. Beri-beri, maybe. More likely smallpox if anything of
that kind. But some of 'em would be on deck."
"Whew! A plague ship!" said Billy Edwards. "Just my luck to be
ordered to board her." He shivered slightly.
"Scared, Billy?" said Ives. Edwards had a record for daring which made
this joke obvious enough to be safe.
"I wouldn't want to have my peculiar style of beauty spoiled by
smallpox marks," said the ensign, with a smile on his homely, winning
face. "And I've a hunch that that ship is not a lucky find for this ship."
"Then I've a hunch that your hunch is a wrong one," said Ives. "How
long would you guess that craft to be?"
[Illustration: A schooner comporting herself in a manner uncommon on
the Pacific]
They were now within a mile of the schooner. Edwards scrutinised her
calculatingly.
"Eighty to ninety feet."
"Say 150 tons. And she's a two-masted schooner, isn't she?" continued
Ives, insinuatingly.
"She certainly is."
"Well, I've a hunch that that ship is a lucky find for any ship, but
particularly for this ship."

"Great Caesar!" cried the ensign excitedly. "Do you think it's her?"
A buzz of electric interest went around the group. Every glass was
raised; every eye strained toward her stern to read the name as she
veered into the wind again. About she came. A sharp sigh of excited
disappointment exhaled from the spectators. The name had been
painted out.
"No go," breathed Edwards. "But I'll bet another dinner----"
"Mr. Edwards," called the captain. "You will take the second cutter,
board that schooner, and make a full investigation."
"Yes, sir."
"Take your time. Don't come alongside until she is in the wind. Leave
enough men aboard to handle her."
"Yes, sir."
The cruiser steamed to within half a mile of the aimless traveller, and
the small boat put out. Not one of his fellows but envied the young
ensign as he left the ship, steered by Timmins, a veteran bo's'n's mate,
wise in all the ins and outs of sea ways. They saw him board, neatly
running the small boat under the schooner's counter; they saw the
foresheet eased off and the ship run up into the wind; then the foresail
dropped and the wheel lashed so that she would stand so. They awaited
the reappearance of Edwards and the bo's'n's mate when they had
vanished below decks, and with an intensity of eagerness they followed
the return of the small boat.
Billy Edwards's face as he came on deck was a study. It was alight with
excitement; yet between the eyes two deep wrinkles of puzzlement
quivered. Such a face the mathematician bends above his paper when
some obstructive factor arises between him and his solution.
"Well, sir?" There was a hint of effort at restraint in the captain's voice.

"She's the Laughing Lass, sir. Everything ship-shape, but not a soul
aboard."
"Come below, Mr. Edwards," said the captain. And they went, leaving
behind them a boiling cauldron of theory and conjecture.

III
THE DEATH SHIP
Billy Edwards came on deck with a line of irritation right-angling the
furrows between his eyes.
"Go ahead," the quarter-deck bade him, seeing him aflush with
information.
"The captain won't believe me," blurted out Edwards.
"Is it as bad as that?" asked Barnett, smiling.
"It certainly is," replied the younger man seriously. "I don't know that I
blame him. I'd hardly believe it myself if I hadn't----"
"Oh, go on. Out with it. Give us the facts. Never mind your credibility."
"The facts are that there lies the Laughing Lass, a little weather-worn,
but sound as a dollar, and not a living being aboard of her. Her boats
are all there. Everything's in good condition, though none too orderly.
Pitcher half full of fresh water in the rack. Sails all O. K. Ashes of the
galley fire still warm. I tell you, gentlemen,