The Ribbon Clues

CHAPTER XVIII. THE GHOST FLEET

IT was twilight above the Hudson River. A dim afterglow persisted over the high hills that flanked the broad surface of the stream. Placid, the river held a silver sheen between the rugged, darkened banks.

Moored below the shelter of a high cliff lay the ghost fleet. Proud vessels lingering to ruin, these ships deserved the title that they had gained. The flotilla spoke of vanished hopes. These hulks were but specters of the past.

By day, the ships of the ghost fleet displayed the marks of time. Their rusted sides; their tilted beams; such factors showed them to be useless relics that no purchaser would buy. Dusk, however, had softened the grimness of the ghost fleet. Beneath the gloaming, the forgotten vessels looked respectable once more.

The ghost fleet! Perhaps the significance of the name lay in the fact that at night alone could an observer picture these ships as active farers of the seas. A melancholy touch seemed to brood above the time-aged craft that lay anchored so close to the towering shore.

There were men about the ghost fleet. Some, perhaps, had come there like filings drawn to a magnet.

Riffraff, human derelicts who shunned respectable habitations. There were others, hired to watch these depreciating ships. Some of them were men of little caliber, for these scum-surfaced hulks did not require guards of capability. Outside of heavy fittings, rotting lifeboats and rusted anchor chains, these boats contained very little of value. Most of them had been dismantled by their owners.

A few of the ships still had skeleton crews. These were composed chiefly of old sailors who kept to themselves. They wanted no visitors aboard their boats; they received none. They knew how to deal with roustabouts. The riffraff kept away from them.

Such was the case aboard the Steamship Xerxes. Moored near the lower end of the decadent row, this squatly, old-fashioned vessel presented a better appearance than its fellows. The Xerxes was a comparatively recent comer to the ghost fleet. Its painted hulk and superstructure looked presentable even by daylight.

SEATED on the deck of the old ship was a portly, broad-faced man who puffed his pipe contentedly in the gloom. This was Captain Jund, master and reputed owner of the Xerxes.

Though his past career had carried him to many foreign ports, though he had weathered typhoons off Asiatic shores, the portly skipper did not seem burdened with unhappy recollections of the past.

A lantern was swinging along the deck of the Xerxes. It passed beyond a corner that marked the beginning of a short row of cabins. That lantern was carried by a member of the crew. For Jund’s ship, though lightly manned, had men on duty day and night.

A blaring shriek split the darkened air. Captain Jund gazed shoreward. On an embankment above, a limited was whizzing through the night, along the tracks which streaked this side of the Hudson.

Jund heard the whistle of the locomotive come to an eerie finish. He watched the clattering string of lighted cars that went speeding by. As the train faded past a bend, the old sea captain resumed his puffing at the ancient pipe.

Another whistle, its blast faint and far away. Jund looked across the river to view a slowly moving light upon the farther shore. A freight was plodding northward; the clicks of its car wheels could scarcely be heard at this distance.

Jund’s eyes narrowed suddenly as he glimpsed another light at greater height. He rose from his chair and went to the rail; from that point, he studied the twinkle as it crossed the river, a few hundred feet above the stream.

“What’re you watching, skipper?”

Jund turned at the question to see a man with a lantern. It was one of the crew, coming to make a report.

The captain pointed down the river.

“That light,” he explained. “I’d say it was an airplane in trouble. It’s down mighty low, with these cliffs on both sides of the river. Do you agree to that, Jessup?”

“Guess you’re right, captain. Only it’s kind of odd, ain’t it, a plane moving as slow as that?”

“May be an amphibian,” decided Jund. “Trying to land on the water. Well, he’s got over to this shore, anyhow.”

The plane had traveled out of sight beyond a projecting cliff that was just below the ghost fleet. Jund and Jessup watched for the light. It did not reappear.

“Might have landed on the flat,” suggested the seaman. “Just past them trees, captain. Plenty of space there, between the trees and the railroad.”

“It would be a bad landing spot, though. Maybe not with some of those new planes. After all, that was a slow mover. Might even have been an autogyro.”

CAPTAIN JUND turned back toward his chair. Jessup followed and spoke in a cautious tone, just as the portly man sat down.

“Sorry to be bothering you, skipper,” he remarked. “But the men ain’t liking it so much as they did. Kind of itching to get ashore. Guess this life is making them weary.”

“There is no cause for that, Jessup,” admonished Jund. “The work is easy aboard ship. They are well fed and well paid. Every member of the crew should have put by a tidy sock by this time.”

“That’s just it, skipper. You know what a sailor’s like when he’s got shore money. An’ your orders is to stay aboard, all the time.”

“Blow me down! Well, I guess there’s no way to keep a sailor from grumbling. But I like it aboard, Jessup. I don’t ever expect to go to sea again. Not unless it’s on a passenger boat; and a good one. They can’t make them too big for me to like them. No, sir, Jessup.”

“If the men was knowing, sir, when this is going to wind up, they’d be less troubled, I’m thinking. It’s the winter ahead that may be bothering them.”

“So that’s it, eh? Well, that’s different, Jessup. I’ve kept that secret until now; but I guess I can give them the news. We’re staying here until December fifteenth.”

“That’s different, skipper. All right for me to tell ‘em, you say?”

“Yes, Jessup, yes. Tell them that if nobody buys this old girl before December fifteenth, I’ll leave the Xerxes to rot with the rest of these tubs. Maybe I’ll do it sooner; but you had better say the fifteenth.”

“Thanks, skipper. That’ll suit ‘em.”

Jessup started away; then paused. He turned again to Jund and mentioned a new subject.

“Lots of new faces along shore,” remarked the sailor. “Some of them mugs look like they was crooks, too. Been banding together, sort of.”

“Down at this end?”

“No. Up by the old Santiago. Some of ‘em have been living aboard there.”

“Let them. So long as they don’t bother us. They won’t be trying that, Jessup. If they’re looking for trouble, they’ll find it around some town near here.”

“Some of ‘em was talking together about an hour ago, captain. Couldn’t see who they was; they was too far away. But I seen one fellow going up toward the railroad, like he was reporting somewhere.”

“Keep a look-out posted, Jessup. Find out what some of the other skeleton crews think about it. That fellow you saw might have been going into some town. He’d have to go across the railroad cut in order to get to the road above.”

The captain looked upward as he spoke. A hundred feet above the railroad was the curved embankment of a highway. Passing cars could not be seen from the ghost fleet; for the road was set well in; but there were clearings at spots where cars could stop between the road and the actual embankment.

SOME minutes passed. Jund finished his pipe and strolled forward to where the bow of the ship nestled close to the shore. He stopped, fancying he had heard a light sound from the rail ahead. It came again; the clink of the anchor chain. Jund advanced through the darkness.

He reached the bow. There, the captain looked over the rail and made out the rusted chain against the dim side of the Xerxes. A man could reach that chain from the deck of an old scow that was jammed close to shore, beside the Xerxes. Anyone who reached it might be able to clamber up to the rail of the steamer.

Listening, Jund heard no sound of prowlers. He produced a flashlight and flickered its beams upon the rotting deck of the scow. No one was about; the captain decided that no one could have actually come aboard the Xerxes while he was standing so close. His final opinion was that a slight motion of the ship had caused the chain to clank.

Captain Jund went back toward the stern. He reached a hatchway and descended. He came to the door of an inner cabin. He unlocked it and turned on a light. There was electricity here, supplied from storage batteries.

Inside was a grill door. Its presence made the cabin a strong room. In an alcove on the farther wall was the ship’s safe, large and formidable. Jund turned out the light and locked the door.

He chuckled at thought of the strong room and its bars. Such a cabin was not unusual aboard a ship that had sailed in pirate-infested waters off the Chinese coast. Jund had kept the Xerxes intact, ever since the vessel had gone out of service.

Turning about in the darkened passage, Jund listened, wondering if his ears had again deceived him. He thought that he had heard another sound.

He blinked his flashlight, then laughed at his own qualms. Jessup’s talk about suspicious characters on shore had caused Jund to imagine things; that, at least, was the skipper’s own decision.

Shortly afterward, Captain Jund emerged from the hatchway and strolled out on deck. He saw other lanterns swinging and knew that his men were about. Jessup’s word had apparently ended their apathy toward duty aboard this moored vessel. Jund strolled to the bow; from that point, he glanced along the line of abandoned ships.

Far up along the curve, the captain of the Xerxes saw a firelight on shore. It was near the old freighter Santiago. Tiny figures, pacing in the glow, were proof of Jessup’s statement that hoodlums had convened.

A northbound train came pounding up the railroad pike. It was a fast freight; Jund watched the black cars as they clattered past. Motion and travel were recollections of the skipper’s past. He stared in meditation after the train had gone by. His gaze remained toward the embankment. Jund uttered a sudden, puzzled grunt.

A LITTLE light was blinking from the tracks. It was descending the embankment. Apparently someone had come from the highway above, waiting to cross the tracks because of the passing freight.

Jund’s perplexity was caused by the fact that the bearer of the flashlight was descending a steep slope where there was no path.

Visitors to the ghost fleet invariably climbed the embankment from a spot at the other end of the row. A footpath led upward from the place where the old Santiago was moored. Either this newcomer was unfamiliar with the terrain or he was seeking to avoid those men who had made their camp fire on the shore.

Jessup arrived by the skipper, swinging a lantern as he came. He, too, had spied the flashlight coming down the bank. The man who carried it had nearly reached the shore.

They saw him approach the grounded scow and turn its flashlight toward the dilapidated craft. Then the torch swung in their direction. The man on shore had seen Jessup’s lantern.

“Ship ahoy!” The halloo was guarded as the visitor gave it. “Ship ahoy! Hello, aboard there!”

“Ahoy!” growled Jund, as the flashlight approached. “What ship do you want?”

“The Xerxes,” came the reply from below.

“Who is with you?” queried Jund.

“I am alone,” returned the man from the dark.

“This is the Xerxes,” informed Jund. “Stand by while we let down a ladder.”

Jund spoke to Jessup. The sailor went to the side of the boat and pulled a rope ladder from beside the rail. The ladder had wooden rungs. It clattered as Jessup hove the lower end down to the deck of the scow.

Jund, standing in darkness, drew a revolver and strained his eyes while he watched the visitor clamber across the scow. The man had spoken the truth; he was alone.

The arrival clambered nimbly up the ladder. He vaulted the rail and came into the light of Jessup’s lantern.

Jund thrust his revolver into his pocket; but still retained his grip on the handle of the weapon.

He stepped forward to view a square-shouldered, rugged-faced man who looked like a sailor. Jund guessed that this fellow had been to sea. He was right. The arrival was Dave Callard.

“YOU’RE Captain Jund?” queried Dave.

“Right,” acknowledged the skipper. “Who are you, matey?”

“Dave Callard. Nephew of Milton Callard.”

Callard nudged toward Jessup, indicating that he did not want the seaman around. Jund grunted an order.

Jessup hung the lantern from a hook on the rail and sauntered away.

“Important business, captain,” confided Dave Callard. “Three friends of my uncle saw a man named Mallikan. Showed him ribbons like this” — Dave thrust out his hand to exhibit a square of blue silk — “and they doped out the names Xerxes from it. That’s why I came up here.”

“You’re Dave Callard, eh?” questioned Jund. “Seems to me, young fellow, that I saw something about you in a newspaper that was hove over from a river boat. Once in a while we read the papers up here. Some talk about the police being after you.”

“On account of trouble in China,” explained Callard, as he pocketed the slip of ribbon. “You’re one man that will see my side of it, captain. You’ve sailed the Orient long enough to know what those scummy Chinese pirates are like.

“I cleaned out a bunch of them on the Chu-kiang. Fellows who had been working up from the Boca Tigris. Some of them had even gotten down into the Outer Waters. I did a good job; but it wasn’t liked in Canton. The pirates had friends there.”

“So that’s why they brigged you, eh?” The captain’s first question was friendly; but his next one showed challenge: “Well, that’s a point in your favor; but what about this murder in New York?”

“You mean the death of Luther Ralgood? That’s still a mystery, captain. The police don’t know who did it.”

“Not Luther Ralgood, I mean James Shurrick. That was the one I read about.”

“Ralgood and Shurrick were both friends of my uncle. That’s why they were murdered. What is more, captain, they were men who owned pieces of the ribbon. The third man was named Hungerfeld; he’s still alive. Mallikan found out about the ribbons, though. That’s why I’m here.”

JUND grunted, only half convinced. Callard was quick to add other vital facts.

“They weren’t due to meet until the fifth of December,” he explained, “but the murders forced the issue. That’s why I’m here early. That’s plain, isn’t it, captain?”

“Sounds mixed; but it’s logical. Where’s Mallikan? Why didn’t he come with you?”

“He had to sail for Bermuda. After all, captain, he was only the intermediary. This matter concerns me alone. That is, as far as I know.”

Captain Jund took up the lantern. He beckoned to his visitor and led the way along the deck. He was heading for the hatchway that he had used before, using the light to pick the way. As Dave Callard paced beside him, Jund spoke.

“It’s irregular,” remarked the skipper, “but it sounds right enough. I never saw Mallikan and I never saw you. But if anybody was trying to bluff me, they’d come here as Mallikan, not as Dave Callard.

“So I’m taking your word for it. You look like Dave Callard ought to look. Something like your uncle, when I see your side face. Come on below. We’ll talk when we reach the strong room.”

The two passed from view. All was silent on the deck. Jessup, strolling to the port rail, looked along the line of the ghost fleet. The camp fire was still glowing; but only a few vagabonds were visible.

Jessup strolled to starboard; he saw that Jund and Callard had left that side of the vessel. Jessup decided to raise the rope ladder.

Just as the seaman reached the rail, a figure came over the top. Sinewy hands gripped Jessup’s throat.

The sailor sank to the deck, struggling. The lantern slipped from his grip, but its fall was only a few inches. It did not break; it only rolled about.

Two more attackers had arrived. They flattened Jessup, stopping the man’s outcry. Another arrival pounced upon the lantern and sidled away, swinging it, while his companions bound and gagged Jessup.

That done, the attackers rolled the prisoner beneath the bridge and rejoined the man with the lantern.

Another seaman came around the corner of the deck. He was carrying a lantern; he thought the swinging light belonged to Jessup. He approached; instantly, lurkers were upon him. He, too, was bound and gagged. His captors rolled him in with Jessup.

A third seaman was on deck. Coming from the stern, he spied a moving lantern and called to Jessup. The lantern stopped, as if in answer. The seaman advanced; the ready horde pounced on him in the darkness.

They stifled this third victim and tied him up with the others.

Other members of the skeleton crew were below. Thugs of the night had no further opportunities for the present. The lantern moved toward the bow; its handler hung it there beside the rail. He joined the others lurking in the dark.

This horde from the night had done its work. Stealthily, the visible members of Jund’s crew had been conquered. The Xerxes was in the hands of pirates who had followed Dave Callard from the shore.