As they drew closer Joan made signs to them to go round to the other side of the ship, and dropping round her stern they saw a ladder rigged. In a few seconds they were alongside, and Cheyne, leaping out before the others, rushed up the steps and reached the deck.
If there had been any doubts as to the real relations between himself and Joan, these were set at rest at that moment. Instinctively he opened his arms, and Joan, swept off her feet by her emotion, threw herself into them and clung to him, while tears of joy and relief ran down her cheeks. As far as Cheyne was concerned, Susan Dangle, the figures on the fo’c’sle, French, and the men behind him might as well not have existed. He crushed Joan violently to him, covering her face and hair with burning kisses, as he murmured brokenly of his love and of his thankfulness for her safety.
French, anxious to learn the state of affairs and seeing nothing was to be got from Joan, turned expectantly to Susan Dangle. What could these unexpected developments mean? Was Susan, the enemy, now a friend? Where were the others? Were the ship’s company friends or foes? Could he ask her questions which might incriminate her without giving her a formal warning?
But his curiosity would brook no delay.
“I am Inspector French of Scotland Yard,” he announced, while Price and the first officer stood round expectantly. “You are Miss Susan Dangle. Where are the other members of this expedition?”
The girl wrung her hands, and he noticed how terribly pale and drawn was her face and what horror shone in her eyes.
“Oh!” she cried, with a gesture as if to shut out the sight of some hideous dream. “Oh, it’s been awful! I can’t speak of it. They’re dead! My brother James, Charles Sime, Mr. Merkel, most of the crew, dead—all dead! Mr. Blessington wounded—probably dying! They got fighting over the gold!” She began suddenly to laugh, a terrible high cackling laugh, that made her hearers shiver, and attracted the attention even of Joan and Cheyne.
French stepped quickly forward and seized her arm.
“There now, Miss Dangle,” he said kindly but firmly. “Stop that and pull yourself together. Your terrible experiences are over now and you’re in the hands of friends. But you mustn’t give way like this. Make an effort, and you’ll be better directly.” He led her to a hatchway and made her sit down, while he continued soothing her as one would a fractious child.
But so great was the agitation of both girls that it was quite a considerable time before the tragic tale of the L’Escaut’s expedition became fully unfolded. And when at last it was told it proved still but one more illustration of the old truth that the qualities of greed and envy and selfishness have that seed of decay within themselves which leads their unhappy victims to overreach themselves, and instead of gaining what they seek, to lose their all. Shorn of incoherent phrases and irrelevant details the story was this.
On the the L’Escaut had left Antwerp with twenty-eight souls aboard. Aft there were Joan, Susan, Blessington, Sime, Dangle, and Merkel, with the captain, first officer, and engineer—nine persons, while forward were three divers, six assistants, a cook, a steward, four seamen, and four engine-room staff, or nineteen altogether. Once clear of the Scheldt Joan’s treatment had changed. Her food was no longer drugged, and when in a few days she got over the effects of the doses she had received, she found her jailers polite and friendly and anxious to minimize the inconvenience and anxiety she was suffering. They told her they did not wish her evil, and were taking her with them simply to prevent information as to themselves or their affairs leaking out through her. This, of course, she did not believe, since she did not possess sufficient information about them to enable her to interfere with their plans. But later their real motive dawned on her. Gradually she realized that Blessington had fallen in love with her, and though he was circumspect enough, her distrust of him was such that she felt sick with horror and dread when she thought of him. Nothing, however, had occurred to which she could take exception, and had it not been for her fears as to her own fate and her anxieties as to Cheyne’s, the voyage would have been pleasant enough.
The L’Escaut was a fast boat, and four days had brought them to the spot referred to in the cipher. After three days’ search they found the wreck, and all three divers had at once gone down. A week was spent in making an examination of the vessel, at the end of which time they had located the gold. It was in her stern, low down and not far from her port side. The divers recommended blowing her plates off at this spot, and ten days more sufficed for this. Through the hole thus made the divers were able to draw in tackle lowered from the L’Escaut, and the ingots of gold were slung to cradles and drawn up with really wonderful ease and speed. They had, moreover, been favored with a peculiarly fine stretch of weather, work having to be suspended on only eight days of the thirty-seven they were there.
On reaching the wreck in the first instance the captain had mustered his crew aft and had informed them—what he could no longer keep secret—that they were out for gold, and that if they found it in the quantities they hoped, every man on board would receive at the end of the trip a gift of £1,000 in addition to his
