Part 7

The old man blinked sorrowfully across the waters at the opposite shore. It was quite evident that he realized what a dreadful expense the club was about to be put to, and while of course there would be profit in it for him, he was sincerely sorry for them.

“I repeat,” he added, “those boats you could have had for nothing, but the others I’d have to charge you for, though of course I’ll give you a discount.”

And he blinked again, as he meditated upon whether that discount should be an eighth or one-quarter of one per cent.

“The Flying Dutchman,” he pursued, “ain’t no good for your purposes. She’s too fast. She’s built to fly by, not to stop. You’d catch up with the House-boat in a minute with her, but you’d go right on and disappear like a visionary; and as for the Ark, she’d never do—with all respect to Mr. Noah. She’s just about as suitable as any other waterlogged cattle-steamer’d be, and no more—first-rate for elephants and kangaroos, but no good for cruiser-work, and so slow she wouldn’t make a ripple high enough to drown a gnat going at the top of her speed. Furthermore, she’s got a great big hole in her bottom, where she was stove in by running afoul of—Mount Arrus-root, I believe it was called when Captain Noah went cruising with that menagerie of his.”

“That’s an unmitigated falsehood!” cried Noah, angrily. “This man talks like a professional amateur yachtsman. He has no regard for facts, but simply goes ahead and makes statements with an utter disregard of the truth. The Ark was not stove in. We beached her very successfully. I say this in defence of my seamanship, which was top-notch for my day.”

“Couldn’t sail six weeks without fouling a mountain-peak!” sneered Wren, perceiving a chance to get even.

“The hole’s there, just the same,” said Charon. “Maybe she was a centreboard, sad that’s where you kept the board.”

“The hole is there because it was worn there by one of the elephants,” retorted Noah. “You get a beast like the elephant shuffling one of his fore-feet up and down, up and down, a plank for twenty-four hours a day for forty days in one of your boats, and see where your boat would be.”

“Thanks,” said Charon, calmly. “But the elephants don’t patronize my line. All the elephants I’ve ever seen in Hades waded over, except Jumbo, and he reached his trunk across, fastened on to a tree limb with it, and swung himself over. However, the Ark isn’t at all what you want, unless you are going to man her with a lot of centaurs. If that’s your intention, I’d charter her; the accommodations are just the thing for a crew of that kind.”

“Well, what do you suggest?” asked Raleigh, somewhat impatiently. “You’ve told us what we can’t do. Now tell us what we can do.”

“I’d stay right here,” said Charon, “and let the ladies rescue themselves. That’s what I’d do. I’ve had the honor of bringing ’em over here, and I think I know ’em pretty well. I’ve watched ’em close, and it’s my private opinion that before many days you’ll see your club-house sailing back here, with Queen Elizabeth at the hellum, and the other ladies on the for’ard deck knittin’ and crochetin’, and tearin’ each other to pieces in a conversational way, as happy as if there never had been any Captain Kidd and his pirate crew.”

“That suggestion is impossible,” said Blackstone, rising. “Whether the relief expedition amounts to anything or not, it’s good to be set going. The ladies would never forgive us if we sat here inactive, even if they were capable of rescuing themselves. It is an accepted principle of law that this climate hath no fury like a woman left to herself, and we’ve got enough professional furies hereabouts without our aiding in augmenting the ranks. We must have a boat.”

“It’ll cost you a thousand dollars a week,” said Charon.

“I’ll subscribe fifty,” cried Hamlet.

“I’ll consult my secretary,” said Solomon, “and find out how many of my wives have been abducted, and I’ll pay ten dollars apiece for their recovery.”

“That’s liberal,” said Hawkshaw. “There are sixty-three of ’em on board, together with eighty of his fiancées. What’s the quotation on fiancées, King Solomon?”

“Nothing,” said Solomon. “They’re not mine yet, and it’s their father’s business to get ’em back. Not mine.”

Other subscriptions came pouring in, and it was not long before everybody save Shylock had put his name down for something. This some one of the more quick-witted of the spirits soon observed, and, with reckless disregard of the feelings of the Merchant of Venice, began to call, “Shylock! Shylock! How much?”

The Merchant tried to leave the pier, but his path was blocked.

“Subscribe, subscribe!” was the cry. “How much?”

“Order, gentlemen, order!” said Sir Walter, rising and holding a bottle aloft. “A black person by the name of Friday, a valet of our friend Mr. Crusoe, has just handed me this bottle, which he picked up ten minutes ago on the bank of the river a few miles distant. It contains a bit of paper, and may perhaps give us a clew based upon something more substantial than even the wonderful theories of our new brother Holmes.”

A deathly silence followed the chairman’s words, as Sir Walter drew a corkscrew from his pocket and opened the bottle. He extracted the paper, and, as he had surmised, it proved to be a message from the missing vessel. His face brightening with a smile of relief, Sir Walter read, aloud:

“Have just emerged into the Atlantic Club in hands of Kidd and forty ruffians. One hundred and eighty-three ladies on board. Headed for the Azores. Send aid at once. All well except Xanthippe, who is seasick in the billiard-room. (Signed) Portia.”

“Aha!” cried Hawkshaw. “That shows how valuable the Holmes theory is.”

“Precisely,” said Holmes. “No woman knows anything about seafaring, but Portia is right. The ship is headed for the Azores, which is the first tack needed in a windward sail for London under the present conditions.”

The reply was greeted with cheers, and when they subsided the cry for Shylock’s subscription began again, but he declined.

“I had intended to put up a thousand ducats,” he said, defiantly, “but with that woman Portia on board I won’t give a red obolus!” and with that he wrapped his cloak about him and stalked off into the gathering shadows of the wood.

And so the funds were raised without the aid of Shylock, and the shapely twin-screw steamer the Gehenna was chartered of Charon, and put under the command of Mr. Sherlock Holmes, who, after he had thanked the company for their confidence, walked abstractedly away, observing in strictest confidence to himself that he had done well to prepare that bottle beforehand and bribe Crusoe’s man to find it.