The Flying Death by Samuel Hopkins Adams (13 inch ebook reader TXT) đ
- Author: Samuel Hopkins Adams
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âSeems to be kind of crazy-like,â volunteered old Johnston, who stood beside him. âBegged me, with his hands clasped, to help him out of the light of the fire, first thing.â
âHow do you feel, my friend?â asked the young doctor, bending over the survivor.
The man lifted a dark and haggard face. âTo a house! Take me to a house! I weesh to go inside!â His voice was a mere wheeze of terror.
âWeâll get you to a house presently,â Colton assured him, presenting the brandy flask to his lips, âCan you make out to climb that cliff?â
âUp there? So plain to be see? No, no!â cried the man vehemently, roving the dark heavens with his eyes.
Colton looked at him in perplexity. The man got painfully to his feet, and cupped a hand to his windward ear.
âI tâink I hear eet again,â he whispered, and shook like a rag in the wind.
âWhat are you talking about?â asked Colton.
âSomesing up zere,â said the stranger, thrusting both hands in an uncouth and fearful gesture upward and outward.
âOh, youâre not quite yourself yet,â said Colton.
âI tell you I hear eet!â broke out the man with extraordinary vehemence. âI feel eet! What? I do not know. But when eet come backââhe made a motion as of a winged creature swoopingââI fear anâ I jump into ze waves.â A harsh tremour went through his frame and left him panting.
âYou jumped?â said Johnston. âWhen she broke up?â
âNo. Before. Before she break.â
âHeâs crazy,â said the old lifesaver. âWhatâd you jump for?â
âEet come after me,â shuddered the man. Again he made that extraordinary gesture. âTake me to a house out of ze night.â
âSomeone must go with him to the station,â said Colton.
âLet me,â Helga Johnston volunteered.
The stranger faced the girl, and advanced a swift step. It was a meeting of satyr and goddess. Suddenly the satyr cast himself at the goddessâ feet and kissed them. Startled, she drew back.
âEet is you that safe me!â he cried, lifting wild and adoring eyes to her. âI see you just before all go black. You walk out on ze wave to reach me.â
âCome along, you!â cried old Johnston, lifting him to his feet. âNo such heathen goinâs-on for my Helga. Not that I think you know what youâre doinâ,â he added.
âYou mustnât go with him alone, Princess,â said Haynes quickly. âHe seems to be insane.â
âFather will go with me,â she replied; âthough Iâm safe enough. It isnât there the danger lies.â
âHelga,â said Haynes seriously, âI wish you wouldnât let yourself be so influenced by your dreams.â
âIâll try not to, Petit Pïżœre,â said the girl gently. âBut, look how it has all come about. Yet I canât see how a strange creature like that could possibly influence all our lives.â
âYou donât half believe it yourself,â said Haynes positively.
âSometimes I donât,â she agreed. âBut we who are born of the sea, dream the seaâs dreams, you know, Petit Pïżœre.â
âWell, get into dry clothes as soon as you get to the station, Princess. Oh, and get me that fellowâs name and address, will you?â
âYes,â said the girl, as, with her father, she led her strange charge away toward the Sand Spit station.
âNow,â said Haynes to Colton, âwill you come up on the cliff and look at my man?â
Together they clambered to the top. In the light of the dying fire they saw the man stretched out near the brink of the cliff.
Another of the wrecked sailors and two lifesavers stood over him. One of the lifesavers Colton recognised as the guard who had come over to speak to Helga Johnston, a hulking, handsome fellow named Serdholm, from the Sand Spit station. The other was a quiet-looking young fellow of the Blue Hill corps, Bruce by name. As Haynes and Colton approached, Bruce drew away a coat which was spread over the prostrate figure, and lifted his lantern.
âHe is dead,â said Colton at once.
âYes,â replied Haynes; âbut see how he came by his death.â
Rolling the body over, he exposed a deep, broad, clean-driven wound through the back. âWhat do you make of that?â he asked.
Colton examined it carefully. âI donât make anythinâ of it,â he said frankly, âexcept that the poor fellow never knew what struck him.â
âWhat did strike him?â
âA very large blade, sent home with tremendous force, apparently.â
âBy some other person?â
âCertainly not by himself; and it doesnât seem like accident. Was he washed ashore this way?â
`âSupposing I told you that the man left the ship, alive and sound in the breeches-buoy, and got here in this condition.â
âDoes the buoy carry more than one at a time?â
âNo.â
âThen it isnât possible.â
âWell, thereâs plenty of evidence as to his arrival. Now letâs see about his departure. Were you aboard when this man left the schooner?â Haynes asked, turning to one of the two sailors at hand.
âYes, sir. Me anâ Darky John came after him. We helped fasten him in.â
âWho else was there?â
âThe Old Man, anâ Buckley the mate, anâ that queer Dago feller.â
âThere wasnât any fight or trouble about who should come first?â
âNo, sir. The Old Man gave his orders. Petersen, here, he leaves fifth, I think. âGoodbye, boys. See you later,â he says, anâ off he goes. Next I see of him, he lies here dead. What killed him or how, I donât know, no more than a blind fish.â
âStraight enough story,â commented Haynes, âparticularly as Hawkins, the coloured man, gives the same version. Weâll try the foreigner later. I want to get to the bottom of this. If murder has been done in mid-air, between the reef where the schooner lay and this cliff, itâs about the strangest case in my experience.â
âHow are you so sure itâs murder?â demanded Serdholm the life-guard. âAnyone can make out murder if theyâre looking for sensation hard enough.â There was an undisguised hostility in his tone as he addressed Haynes which surprised Colton.
âWhy do you think it wasnât?â asked Colton quickly.
âDid I say I thought it wasnât?â retorted the guard. âMaybe it was; but Iâve seen a sharpened stake shoved clean through a man in a surf.â
âYou neednât be so fresh about it, Serdholm,â put in the other guard. âItâs true, though, what he says, Mr. Haynes,â he added. âAnd there was plenty of driftwood afloat.â
Colton bent over the dead man again. âItâs almost too clean an incision for anything except steel,â he said. âBesides, wood leaves splinters.â
âYou saw the man come in?â Haynes asked Bruce.
âHelped to lift him out. Look!â He held out his hands, showing great stains of blood.
âYou didnât see anything that would give a clue?â
âNo, I didnât see anything,â returned Bruce after a momentâs consideration; âbut some of the men thought they heard a scream, when he was about halfway in. It was just after a lightning flash. They thought a bolt might have gone through him.â
âLightning doesnât wound that way,â said Colton.
âNo, I didnât think so. But I thought Iâd better tell you. Only in the noises of a gale you can hear all sorts of voices.â
âThey didnât say anything about a kind of rasping, creaking sound?â asked Haynes after a momentâs hesitation.
âNo, sir,â said the man, surprised. âNothing like that.â
Haynes turned away impatiently. âCome down to the Blue Hill station,â he said to Colton. âWeâll see if Miss Johnstonâs patient can throw any light on this.â
During the walk Haynes was so deeply in thought and replied to Coltonâs questions so curtly that the latter fell into silence. At the door of the station they were met by Helga.
âHowâs your salvage, Princess?â queried Haynes. âAble to stand a cross-examination?â
âMore than ableâwilling,â replied the girl with a smile. âHeâs been telling us all about himself. Nothing queerer than he ever came ashore on Montauk. Iâm afraid the sea-water has got into his brain a little.â
âTell us what he said.â
âIn the first place, he is some sort of a travelling juggler and magician. As soon as he is recovered he will give us a private exhibition in honour of his rescue. He calls himself âThe Wonderful Whalley,â though his real name is something like Cardonaro. An injury to his hand stranded him in Maine, and he took passage on the Milly Esham because it was a cheap way to New York. Age, forty-two; nationality, Portuguese; occupation, the theatrical profession. Anything else, Petit Pïżœre?â
âGood work! Did he say anything of a manâs being killed on board!â
The girlâs face became grave at once. âNo,â she said. âHow was he killed? Who was it?â
âA sailor named Petersen. He was stabbed, and came ashore dead.â
âThe man has two enormous knives in sheaths fastened to his belt,â she said, turning white. âHe uses them in his performances.â
Haynes and Colton looked at each other.
âIf he did it, he wasnât responsible,â Helga went on impetuously. âHeâs such a pitiful creatureâjust like a dog, with his great eyes. I feel as if we had saved a baby. And he is terrified like a baby.â
âAt some phantom of the darkness?â
The girl nodded. âSomething that he hasnât even seen. He thinks it came down from the upper air after him as the ship was going to pieces. While the others were being taken off in the breeches-buoy he was crawling down the main ratlines to escape from this thing. Finally his fears drove him overboard.â
âJust as well for him,â said Colton. âIf he had stayed he would have been killed in the wreckage with the mate and captain.â
âDr. Colton thinks the man is insane,â said Haynes. âWhat is your view, Princess?â
âI think so too. But I think some strange thing has terrified him. Perhaps one of the sails tore loose and blew on him. Or it may have been the lightning.â
âThat might be it, and in his panic he may have struck out and killed Petersen by accident. But in that case, why should the other sailors, who must have seen it, shield him? I guess the best thing is to put it to him straight,â concluded Haynes.
Followed by Colton, he went into the room where the suspect lay.
âSee here!â began Haynes abruptly. âWe want to know why you killed Petersen the sailor.â
The strangerâs dark eyes widened. He stared at his questioner with dropped jaw.
âYes; why you killed himâwith this.â Haynes touched the hilt of one of the knives that protruded from the manâs belt.
âNo, no!â protested the man. âI not got nothing against Petersen. I not know Petersen.â
âYou were on board when he left?â
âYes; I see zem goâoneâtwoâthreeâso manyâseven. Not me; I haf to stay. No one care to safe ze wonderful Whalley.â
âDid you see anyone fight with Petersen or strike him?â asked Colton.
âNo; see nothing.â
After fifteen minutes of fruitless cross-questioning the investigators called in the negro, Hawkins.
âHim kill Petersen?â repeated Hawkins. âNoâsirâee, boss! He watnât nowheyah nigh when Petersen went off, safe anâ wavinâ his hand goodbye.â
âSomeone killed him,â said Haynes. âThis man, yourself, Corliss and the captain and mate were the only ones aboard.â
âThatâs right, boss. Corliss and the Old Man and I stood right by and saw him off. No, sir, if he watnât killed by the lightninâ or on the cliff, somethinâ got him on the way in.â
âYou think he may have
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