Part 23

“Anything new?” asked Holmes, returning to the deck, smacking his lips in enjoyment of the cocktail.

“No—except that we are almost within hailing distance,” said Cook.

“Then give orders to cast anchor,” observed Holmes. “Bonaparte, take a crew of picked men ashore and bring those pirates aboard. Take the three musketeers with you, and don’t let Kidd or Morgan give you any back talk. If they try any funny business, exorcise them.”

“Aye, aye, sir,” replied Bonaparte, and in a moment a boat had been lowered and a sturdy crew of sailors were pulling for the shore. As they came within ten feet of it the pirates made a mad dash down the rough, rocky hillside and clamored to be saved.

“What’s happened to you?” cried Bonaparte, ordering the sailors to back water lest the pirates should too hastily board the boat and swamp her.

“We are marooned,” replied Kidd, “and on an island of a volcanic nature. There isn’t a square inch of it that isn’t heated up to 125 degrees, and seventeen of us have already evaporated. Conrad has lost his reason; Abeuchapeta has become so tenuous that a child can see through him. As for myself, I am growing iridescent with anxiety, and unless I get off this infernal furnace I’ll disappear like a soap-bubble. For Heaven’s sake, then, General, take us off, on your own terms. We’ll accept anything.”

As if in confirmation of Kidd’s words, six of the pirate crew collapsed and disappeared into thin air, and a glance at Abeuchapeta was proof enough of his condition. He had become as clear as crystal, and had it not been for his rugged outlines he would hardly have been visible even to his fellow-spirits. As for Kidd, he had taken on the aspect of a rainbow, and it was patent that his fears for himself were all too well founded.

Bonaparte embarked the leaders of the band first, returning subsequently for the others, and repaired with them at once to the Gehenna, where they were ushered into the presence of Sherlock Holmes. The first question he asked was as to the whereabouts of the House-boat.

“That we do not know,” replied Kidd, mournfully, gazing downward at the wreck of his former self. “We came ashore, sir, early yesterday morning, in search of food. It appears that when—acting in a wholly inexcusable fashion, and influenced, I confess it, by motives of revenge—I made off with your club-house, I neglected to ascertain if it were well stocked with provisions, a fatal error; for when we endeavored to get supper we discovered that the larder contained but half a bottle of farcie olives, two salted almonds, and a soda cracker—not a luxurious feast for sixty-nine pirates and a hundred and eighty-three women to sit down to.”

“That’s all nonsense,” said Demosthenes. “The House Committee had provided enough supper for six hundred people, in anticipation of the appetite of the members on their return from the fight.”

“Of course they did,” said Confucius; “and it was a good one, too—salads, salmon glacé, lobsters—every blessed thing a man can’t get at home we had; and what is more, they’d been delivered on board. I saw to that before I went up the river.”

“Then,” moaned Kidd, “it is as I suspected. We were the victims of base treachery on the part of those women.”

“Treachery? Well, I like that. Call it reciprocity,” said Hamlet, dryly.

“We were informed by the ladies that there was nothing for supper save the items I have already referred to,” said Kidd. “I see it all now. We had tried to make them comfortable, and I put myself to some considerable personal inconvenience to make them easy in their minds, but they were ungrateful.”

“Whatever induced you to take ’em along with you?” asked Socrates.

“We didn’t want them,” said Kidd.

“We didn’t know they were on board until it was too late to turn back. They’d broken in, and were having the club all to themselves in your absence.”

“It served you good and right,” said Socrates, with a laugh. “Next time you try to take things that don’t belong to you, maybe you’ll be a trifle more careful as to whose property you confiscate.”

“But the House-boat—you haven’t told us how you lost her,” put in Raleigh, impatiently.

“Well, it was this way,” said Kidd. “When, in response to our polite request for supper, the ladies said there was nothing to eat on board, something had to be done, for we were all as hungry as bears, and we decided to go ashore at the first port and provision. Unfortunately the crew got restive, and when this floating frying-pan loomed into view, to keep them good-natured we decided to land and see if we could beg, borrow, or steal some supplies. We had to. Observations taken with the sextant showed that there was no port within five hundred miles; the island looked as if it might be inhabited at least by goats, and ashore we went, every man of us, leaving the House-boat safely anchored in the harbor. At first we didn’t mind the heat, and we hunted and hunted and hunted; but after three or four hours I began to notice that three of my sailors were shrivelling up, and Conrad began to act as if he were daft. Hawkins burst right before my eyes. Then Abeuchapeta got prismatic around the eyes and began to fade, and I noticed a slight iridescence about myself; and as for Morgan, he had the misfortune to lie down to take a nap in the sun, and when he waked up, his whole right side had evaporated. Then we saw what the trouble was. We’d struck this lava island, and were gradually succumbing to its intense heat. We rushed madly back to the harbor to embark; and our ship, gentlemen, and your House-boat, was slowly but surely disappearing over the horizon, and flying from the flag-staff at the fore were signals of farewell, with an unfeeling P.S. below to this effect: ‘Don’t wait up for us. We may not be back until late.’”

There was a pause, during which Socrates laughed quietly to himself, while Abeuchapeta and the one-sided Morgan wept silently.

“That, gentlemen of the Associated Shades, is all I know of the whereabouts of the House-boat,” continued Captain Kidd. “I have no doubt that the ladies practised a deception, to our discomfiture, and I must say that I think it was exceedingly clever—granting that it was desirable to be rid of us, which I don’t, for we meant well by them, and they would have enjoyed themselves.”

“But,” cried Hamlet, “may they not now be in peril? They cannot navigate that ship.”

“They got her out of the harbor all right,” said Kidd. “And I judged from the figure at the helm that Mrs. Noah had taken charge. What kind of a seaman she is I don’t know.”

“Almighty bad,” ejaculated Shem, turning pale. “It was she who ran us ashore on Ararat.”

“Well, wasn’t that what you wanted?” queried Munchausen.

“What we wanted!” cried Shem. “Well, I guess not. You don’t want your yacht stranded on a mountain-top, do you? She was a dead loss there, whereas if mother hadn’t been in such a hurry to get ashore, we could have waited a month and landed on the seaboard.”

“You might have turned her into a summer hotel,” suggested Munchausen.