CHAPTER XI
JOHN SOLOMON PREPARES FOR ACTION
"Solomon, I wish you'd tell me about that Schlak business, just to get it off my mind."
"Yes, sir; just a moment. Miss 'Elmuth, can you bring to mind the date o' that 'ere scrimmage up at the camp?"
Hammer stared, for the supercargo—supercargo no longer—seemed to think more about getting his notes down in that little red morocco notebook than he did about the death of Schlak. Presently, however, Solomon closed and carefully placed a rubber band about the notebook, shoving it into his pocket.
"I likes to keep my accounts all ship-shape, sir and missus, and I must say as 'ow I'm getting a mortal big account over against the name o' Krausz. Why, Mr. 'Ammer, 'ere's the facts o' the case.
"You may remember as 'ow, that night, I was gone from mess for a bit? Well, I'd slipped up to Mr. Schlak's cabin to see if I could find something I was after—papers connected wi' the expedition, they was.
"I 'ad the paper I'd taken from the doctor's pocket, and was comparing of it with some others I found when, lo and behold, in pops Mr. Schlak!
"'E never says a word, 'e don't, but just goes for me. Lud, but it did give me a turn for a moment, sir! Forchnit it was me 'and fell on 'is knife, where it 'ung on the wall, after 'e'd knocked me back and took me by the throat. No, I 'ad to do it, miss; it was 'is life or mine, and no mistake."
It was four days after the sea funeral of Harcourt. The latter, by the terms of his hasty but authentic will, had left to Hammer all his property, consisting of the Daphne.
At first the American had flatly refused to accept the yacht, until the practical, hard-headed common sense of John Solomon won him around; and when he put the case up to Sara Helmuth she had promptly decided that he should accept.
He did so, was duly constituted as lawful owner, and there being no objections to the first mate's papers, obtained for him by Solomon, took command of the yacht until her arrival in England once again. She was at anchor off the river, Hammer and Sara Helmuth remaining with Solomon until they had agreed upon some plan.
Hammer began to feel that it was time for action. No word had drifted in from the ruins of Fort St. Thomas during the week that had intervened, and Hammer's grief had settled into a determined thirst for vengeance.
Solomon was at one with him in this, but had exercised a restraining influence to which Hammer had yielded with good grace. He had begun to find out things about John Solomon.
The man seemed to have no lack of money, and it was apparent that he was neither supercargo nor cotton-planter. The very character of his visitors precluded that, while it but vexed Hammer the more.
On one occasion it was a Kiswahili chieftain from up-coast; on another a party of dirty but stately Arabs from a dhow in port; on another a bearded, khaki-clad officer of police from somewhere up-country. These visitors were received in private and departed as they came, without meeting Hammer or Miss Helmuth.
On this, the fourth day after the sea-burial, all three were sitting in a large living-room on the ground floor of the house. Like the other rooms it held many rugs, together with native weapons and two of the ancient Shishkhana rifles from Damascus, of which Solomon was inordinately proud.
He had been seated over a little desk in the corner, busily writing in his red notebook, and when at last the impatient American had got the story of Schlak's death out of him he squatted down on some cushions beside Sara Helmuth, who, with her quiet common sense which embarrassed Hammer at times, was darning socks for the two men.
"About Jenson now," he continued, whittling at his tobacco plug—"it don't pay to be in a 'urry, Mr. 'Ammer. I 'ave men out 'unting for Potbelly——"
"But, confound it, Solomon, why can't I go up there and——"
"Now, Mr. 'Ammer, don't take on so! First off, we 'as t' get this 'ere business straightened out all ship-shape and proper, so to speak; and the East ain't the West, Mr. 'Ammer.
"If so be as you wanted a certain book, you'd say, 'Get the book I gave you last night,' which is all werry well in its place, I says; but if you was talking Hindi you'd say, 'What book was by me given to you yesterday at night, that book fetchin' to me, come.'
"Now, Mr. 'Ammer, that's just a sample, like. The East ain't the West, I says, and a werry good job that it ain't. Besides, there's the missus to think on, sir."
Hammer glanced at Sara Helmuth, who smiled at him, noticing that his face was older than it had been a week before—that it was graver, finer drawn.
"Perhaps it's time for an understanding, Mr. Hammer. I haven't seen much of you the last two or three days, you know, but Mr. Solomon and——"
"Make it John, miss, if you don't mind," broke in Solomon pleadingly. "It's John with me friends, if I may make so bold as to place you in that 'ere category."
"All right, then," laughed the girl. "John and I have had an understanding, Mr. Hammer——"
"Make it Cyrus, miss," interrupted the American, his eyes narrowing in a slight smile as he met her gaze. "Or cut off the mister and make it plain Hammer, both of you."
"Hammer it is!" exclaimed the girl, though John shook his head solemnly. "So, of course, I'll reciprocate with plain Sara. And now let me finish. The whole story that Dr. Krausz told you, Hammer, was untrue."
"What? You don't mean about the treasure stuff——"
"Yes, for he changed that to suit himself. Now, here's the real story. My father found a number of old papers in Lisbon giving the whole thing, and wrote it to Solomon, intending to join him later and go shares on it. In 1696 Fort Jesus, or Mombasa, was besieged by the Arabs.
"That siege lasted for thirty-three months, for the Portuguese sent over help from Goa, but in the meantime all the other Portuguese settlements were being destroyed.
"Our own Fort St. Thomas was able to hold out until Fort Jesus had fallen, when the Arab fleet came up and put everyone in the fort to the sword. We don't know who escaped, but, at anyrate, father found the papers telling about the treasure. It seems that the Viceroy of Goa had sent some alleged relics of St. Thomas, who was supposed to have died in India, you know, back to the King of Portugal; and with them he had sent a lot of valuable papers and documents, as well as such things as gold and jewels—there has to be a treasure, of course.
"Well, that ship put into the bay which used to be at St. Thomas; she was driven ashore, and the garrison only had time to transfer her cargo to the fort before they were attacked. So far as anyone knows to the contrary, Hammer, it's there yet."
"I guess not." The American shook his head. "Krausz has it by now; you can lay on that—Sara.”
His brief hesitation before her name was answered by a slight flush as she laughed quickly up at him.
"No, he hasn't! At least, not the papers, the best part of all. They were hidden away separately, and not even father knew it, There was one paper he could not translate, for it was written in cipher, so he sent it direct to John. That paper told about the hiding-place of the papers and the relics, and Krausz never heard of it."
Hammer glanced at Solomon, beginning to grow interested in this treasure-hunt in spite of himself.
"What kind of a chap are you, John? By Godfrey, I'm thinking that you must be some kind of wizard!"
"Well, Mr. 'Ammer, so the Arabs do say. You see, sir, I've 'ad a bit o' luck wi' the rosary predictions—'El Rame!', the Arabs call it—and I'm free to admit, sir and miss, that it ain't far removed from rank sorcery to a Christian's way o' thinking. But I've learned a mortal lot in me time, Mr. 'Ammer, and 'ave 'andled some main ticklish jobs.
"You might not think it, sir, but I've a fondness for these 'ere rugs, and I've got some as couldn't be bought, sir—sent to me by different 'ands. But put not your trust in Hajjis and Sayyids as the Good Book says: no, sir, I 'olds to me own game and plays it me own way. Just so with this 'ere Jenson; and when Potbelly gets back, why, we go after 'im and 'is master and the loot, all in one pile."
"Potbelly?" queried Hammer. "Is he a man of yours?"
"One of a few, sir, and not so black as 'e's painted. A Hazrami, 'e is; them Hazramaut men wanders all over, sir—reg'lar soldiers o' fortune, like. The Hindus say: 'If you meet a viper and a Hazrami, spare the viper'. But this 'ere man Potbelly, which ain't 'is proper name, is main useful. Lud, what I've seen that man do! A actor, 'e is, sir."
Hammer learned that nothing had been heard of Potbelly, but men were looking for him. He also learned that Solomon had, in reality, been the deus ex machina during the entire cruise of the yacht, and that he had managed the affair at Port Said, thus detaining three of the Germans and replacing them with his own men in case of trouble. As he had advised dismissing the remaining Germans at once, they had been summarily discharged and sent to Mombasa.
Thither, Hammer decided to follow them. Roberts, the steward, had already been sent home with his master's personal effects, and the sooner the yacht was in the shelter of Kilindini harbour the better.
As Solomon wished to get two Afghan friends of his up from Mombasa, Hammer concluded to take down the yacht in the morning; for it was beginning of November, and the south-west monsoon was threatening the insecure anchorage of Melindi.
"What day is this?" he asked suddenly.
"The 14th day o' the month Zil Ka'adah," rejoined Solomon, with a twinkle in his eye. "Year o' the Hegira, 1331. In other words, sir, it's Thursday."
"Then I'll be back on the Juba Sunday night," reflected Hammer. "What are your plans?"
Solomon's plans were quite well-defined, once he stated them. He intended to go up-coast to old Fort St. Thomas by launch, sending a party of Arabs around by land; the natives would be easily sent away, leaving Krausz with six Germans and Jenson.
The last-named would be either given up or taken by force, and Krausz could get back to Melindi and Mombasa as best he might, while with their men Solomon and Hammer dug up the ruins.
Sara Helmuth insisted that she be of the party also, and since there was no great danger to be apprehended, Solomon consented.
He bade Hammer keep the little silver ring, saying that most of the natives knew the emblem and that it might prove of help to him at some future time.
Frankly mystified, Hammer questioned the man directly as to who and what he was; but Solomon merely laughed and waved a hand complacently.
"Easy, sir—easy! A man as asks too much gets less'n 'e asks, I says; it ain't in 'uman nature to be answerin' of questions, I says, but Lud, there's few men as understands 'uman nature, Mr. 'Ammer! Ship's stores, me line is, Mr. 'Ammer, and I 'as me little shop in Port Said all neat and ship-shape like, where I'll be mortal glad to receive ye on 'appier occasions, sir and miss."
Hammer gave up questioning his ex-supercargo. Sara Helmuth proved to know no more than did he himself, but he had talked much with her of other things, striving to gain something of her poise and perfect self-confidence. For the American was in deadly fear of himself.
With each day the old bitterness had been surging back into his heart, driving him to action no matter what it might be. Harcourt's death had been a sore stroke to him, and yet—even more than he could comprehend—the presence and friendship of Sara Helmuth had upborne him and kept him from the brooding which had proven his undoing in time past.
He listened without interest as Solomon questioned the girl about the old fort and her preliminary work in getting it cleared of brush and trees. As she replied to his queries, Hammer saw a frown slowly gathering on Solomon's pudgy face; then the little man pulled out his clay pipe and tobacco and began to whittle thoughtfully.
"All werry good, miss," he declared finally, "but I'm mortal sorry as 'ow you 'ad all that work for nothing."
"What do you mean?" she asked quickly.
"Well, I thought as 'ow I'd say nothing about it till the proper time, miss; but this 'ere's the proper time, I says. You see, that there place you was a-workin' on wasn't the fort at all, miss; it was just the ruins of the old store-house and slave barracoon, at what used to be the water's edge. The fort itself is a matter o' two hundred yards back in the jungle, miss."
While Hammer and the girl stared at him, almost in incredulity, he went on to explain, with one of his quiet chuckles. He had visited the ruins four years previously on an inspection with the district commissioner from Melindi, and so was aware of there being two sets of ruins.
Those of the fort proper were well overgrown by the jungle, but were in much better preservation than those on the hill, which had been levelled long since by the elements.
Bearing this in mind, he had instructed Potbelly to meet the party of Miss Helmuth and to lead her to the lesser ruins, saying nothing about those of the fort proper.
This Potbelly had done, and in consequence Dr. Krausz was spending time and money in digging up ancient slave barracoons, knowing nothing of the real fort so close to him.
Hammer could not understand this until Solomon explained the density of the jungle near the place, which was uncrossed by any native tracks.
"But if he got the location from the papers left by your father," argued the American, "surely he would know better, Sara. He's a man of experience——"
"Not in Africa," broke in Solomon, chuckling. "Not in Africa 'e ain't! Them places was all alike, sir—just a square with a roof over it, like. The fort's just three o' them there squares with a wall around and other buildin's in between. No, sir; in them papers you mentions, 'e found where to dig, prowiding 'e got the right place. So 'e's a-digging of his bloomin' 'ead off, and much good may it do 'im, I says. When so be as we gets ready to dig, why, them Arabs o' mine will 'ave it all ready cleared for us. It's so mortal thick in there, sir, that two parties could live for a year on end, ten yards apart, and never know it—just like that, sir."
In the end Hammer was forced to admit the logic of Solomon's reasoning, though when he learned that the Arabs were probably on the spot by this time he refused to believe that they would not be discovered at work.
The Afghans he was to pick up at Mombasa had been despatched to Goa by Solomon in the endeavour to learn something definite about the old fort; but whether they had done so or not Solomon did not know.
Nor could the American understand the other's choice of men. Why he should send Afghans on such an errand, why he should trust Potbelly and make use of him as he did, why he should seemingly put so much trust in natives and so little trust in white men, drew a series of questions from Hammer which forced Solomon to explain.
"White men is all werry well in their place, sir, but Africa ain't their place. Me men know me, Mr. 'Ammer, and 'as faith in me. White men can't 'elp from talking too much, sir; but it ain't in the nature of brown men to talk.
"Work a brown man all square and aboveboard, I says, and 'e'll curse ye for a bloody fool; but work 'im underhand, like what e's been used to for the last thousand years, and 'e'll fair go through fire and water for ye. What 'e loves is the game, sir—same as me. It ain't the money as I'm after, though I do say as money 'as its uses."
Which was all Hammer ever extracted from John Solomon on the matter of colour.
That night, after a long talk with Sara Helmuth, the American went out to the Daphne. He had not been able to nerve himself to the deed before this, but now installed himself in Harcourt's cabin and arranged with the chief engineer to sign on a crew at Mombasa as fast as the men could be picked up.
He was without money, practically, and doubted very much whether he would be able to make the yacht pay in future—for this, however, he made no plans; his first duty was to get hold of Jenson, and what came after that did not trouble him greatly.
At Mombasa he found the two Afghans without trouble. Both were heavily-bearded, stalwart men, of keen intelligence, and cousins; Akhbar Khan and Yar Hussein were alike, grave-eyed, dignified, green-turbaned, and dependable. Hammer concluded that John Solomon knew what he was about, after all.
His only business ashore was to get the two Afghans, and with them he returned to the waiting launch, provisioned and manned by Solomon's four Arabs, for the run up-coast.
He did not go near the club, and saw no one he knew until reaching the wharf. Here, however, he ran into a little Cockney, a waiter at the club the evening he had so gloriously awakened Mombasa.
Finding the man staring at him, he nodded and would have passed on, but the fellow plucked his sleeve.
"Beg pardon, guv'nor, but you'd best cut and run for it. I heard two o' them nigger bobbies sayin' as 'ow they was lookin' for you up-town."
"Eh? I guess you've made a mistake, my man!" exclaimed the American. The other winked and sidled away hastily.
"Just a tip, guv'nor. Don't wyste no time——" and he was gone.
Laughing over the occurrence, and thinking that the man was drunk, Hammer dropped into the launch and the wharf was soon left behind.
He had decided not to go up on the Juba, as the launch would be of use to them and he could make a quicker run up in her. Solomon had a launch hired at Melindi, but another would not come amiss, he thought. Nor did it, as events proved.
The run to Melindi was uneventful in the extreme, and they made the river-mouth shortly after nine in the evening. Bidding the Arabs and Afghans come to the plantation with him, where there were a number of buildings in which they could find shelter. Hammer led the way at once.
To his surprise, the plantation-house was dark save for the servants' quarters, nor was there anyone to greet him.
Mystified and no little startled by the empty rooms, the American lit some of the lamps and soon had the house-boys on the jump.
The only information that he could elicit from them was that Potbelly had come that morning, and Solomon and Sara Helmuth had gone shortly after luncheon—where, no one knew or would say.