"The Shining Devil Took Them!"
My of the Association, and you others who may read this my narrative, for what I did and did not when full returned I must offer here, as I can, an explanation; a defense—if you will.
My act was to to the open port. The had hours, for the moon was now low in the west! I ran to the door to the alarm. It under my hands; would not open. Something to the floor. It was the key and I then that Throckmartin had it we our vigil. With memory a died that I had not was in me, the that he had from the cabin, on the ship.
And as I stooped, with for the key, a came to me that again the blood from my heart, me rigid. I no on the Southern Queen for Throckmartin!
Conviction of my was complete. The of the from captain to boy was, to put it conservatively, average. None, I knew, save Throckmartin and myself had the of the Dweller. Had they the second? I did not know, I speaking, not knowing. And not seeing, how they believe? They would have me insane—or worse; even, it might be, his murderer.
I off the electrics; waited and listened; opened the door with and slipped, unseen, into my own stateroom. The hours until the were of nightmare. Reason, at last, me. Even had I spoken and been where in these after all the hours we search for Throckmartin? Certainly the captain would not turn to Port Moresby. And if he did, of what use for me to set for the Nan-Matal without the which Throckmartin himself had was necessary if one to with the that there?
There was but one thing to do—follow his instructions; the in Melbourne or Sydney if it were possible; if not sail to America as as might be, secure it there and as return to Ponape. And this I to do.
Calmness came to me after I had this decision. And when I up on I that I had been right. They had not the Dweller. They were still the of the ship, talking of out, circuited, a dozen of the extinguishment. Not until was Throckmartin's discovered. I told the captain that I had left him early in the evening; that, indeed, I him but slightly, after all. It to none to me, or to question me minutely. Why should it have? His had been noted, upon; all who had met him had him mad. I did little to the impression. And so it came naturally that on the it was entered that he had or from the some time the night.
A report to this was when we entered Melbourne. I and in the press of the news Throckmartin's only a lines in the newspapers; my own presence on the ship and in the city passed unnoticed.
I was in at Melbourne I needed a set of Becquerel condensers—but these were the very of my equipment. Pursuing my search to Sydney I was in a who were these very articles in a them from the States a fortnight. I settled in to their arrival.
And now it will to you to ask why I did not cable, this period of waiting, to the Association; from it. Or why I did not call upon members of the University of either Melbourne or Sydney for assistance. At the least, why I did not gather, as Throckmartin had to do, a little of men to go with me to the Nan-Matal.
To the two questions I answer frankly—I did not dare. And this reluctance, this inhibition, every man of his scientific will understand. The of Throckmartin, the I had myself witnessed, were incredible, abnormal, the of all science. I from the disbelief, ridicule—nay, the that had me to seal my while on the ship. Why I myself only believe! How then I to others?
And as for the third question—I not take men into the range of such a without them of what they might encounter; and if I did them—
It was checkmate! If it also was cowardice—well, I have for it. But I do not it so; my is clear.
That and the part of another passed the ship I into port. By that time, my to be after Throckmartin, the that every moment of might be to him and his, and my to know that shining, on the moon path did or had been hallucination, I was almost to the of madness.
At last the were in my hands. It was more than a week later, however, I secure passage to Port Moresby and it was another week still I started north on the Suwarna, a little with a fifty-horsepower auxiliary, for Ponape and the Nan-Matal.
We the Brunhilda some five hundred miles south of the Carolines. The wind had soon after Papua had astern. The Suwarna's ability to make her twelve an hour without it had me very her for not being as as the Javan flower for which she was named. Da Costa, her captain, was a Portuguese; his was a Canton man with all the marks of long and able service on some junk; his was a half-breed China-Malay who had up his knowledge of power plants, Heaven alone where, and, I had to believe, had transferred all his religious to the American of he so served. The was up of six huge, Tonga boys.
The Suwarna had cut through Finschafen Huon Gulf to the protection of the Bismarcks. She had the of the tranquilly, and we were then over the thousand-mile of open with New Hanover us and our boat's pointed toward Nukuor of the Monte Verdes. After we had Nukuor we should, accident, Ponape in not more than sixty hours.
It was late afternoon, and on the little that us came far-flung of spice-trees and flowers. The slow of the Pacific us in gentle, hands and sent us as the long, to the next broad, slope. There was a spell of peace over the ocean, the Portuguese captain who at the wheel, slowly to the and of the sloop.
There came a from the Tonga boy over the bow.
"Sail he b'long port side!"
Da Costa and while I my glass. The was a mile away, and must have been visible long the had her. She was a about the size of the Suwarna, without power. All set, to a she carried, she was making the best of the little breeze. I to read her name, but the as though the hands of the man at the wheel had the helm—and then with equal to her course. The came in sight, and on it I read Brunhilda.
I my to the man at wheel. He was over the in a helpless, of way, and as I looked the again, as before. I saw the up and the wheel about with a jerk.
He so for a moment, looking ahead, of us, and then again to himself. It came to me that his was the action of a man against a unutterable. I the with my glasses. There was no other of life. I to the Portuguese and with puzzled air at the sloop, now from us by a mile.
"Something I think there, sair," he said in his English. "The man on I know. He is captain and owner of the Br-rwun'ild. His name Olaf Huldricksson, what you say—Norwegian. He is or tired—but I do not where is the and the starb'd is gone—"
He an order to the and as he did so the failed and the of the Brunhilda inert. We were now nearly and a hundred yards away. The engine of the Suwarna died and the Tonga boys to one of the boats.
"You Olaf Huldricksson!" Da Costa. "What's a wit' you?"
The man at the wheel toward us. He was a giant; his enormous, thick chested, in every line of him, he like a of old at the of his ship.
I the again; his into the and have I a and marked as though by of as was that of Olaf Huldricksson!
The Tonga boys had the alongside and were waiting at the oars. The little captain was into it.
"Wait!" I cried. I ran into my cabin, my medical and the rope ladder. The Tonga boys to the oars. We the and Da Costa and I each a from the and ourselves on board. Da Costa approached Huldricksson softly.
"What's the matter, Olaf?" he began—and then was silent, looking at the wheel. The hands of Huldricksson were fast to the by of thin, cord; they were and black and the had into the till they were in the flesh, so that blood fell, slow by drop, at his feet! We toward him, out hands to his to them. Even as we touched them, Huldricksson a at me and then another at Da Costa which sent the Portuguese into the scuppers.
"Let be!" Huldricksson; his voice was thick and as though from a throat; his were and and his was black. "Let be! Go! Let be!"
The Portuguese had himself up, with and knife in hand, but as Huldricksson's voice him he stopped. Amazement into his and as he the into his they with pity.
"Something wit' Olaf," he to me. "I think he crazee!" And then Olaf Huldricksson to us. He did not speak—he from that mouth his imprecations. And all the time his red the and his hands, and on the wheel, blood.
"I go below," said Da Costa nervously. "His wife, his daughter—" he the and was gone.
Huldricksson, once more, had over the wheel.
Da Costa's appeared at the top of the steps.
"There is nobody, nobody," he paused—then—"nobody—nowhere!" His hands out in a of incomprehension. "I do not understan'."
Then Olaf Huldricksson opened his and as he spoke a ran through me, my heart.
"The took them!" Olaf Huldricksson, "the took them! Took my Helma and my little Freda! The came from the moon and took them!"
He swayed; his cheeks. Da Costa moved toward him again and again Huldricksson him, alertly, wickedly, from his eyes.
I took a from my case and it with morphine. I Da Costa to me.
"Get to the of him," I whispered, "talk to him." He moved over toward the wheel.
"Where is your Helma and Freda, Olaf?" he said.
Huldricksson his toward him. "The took them," he croaked. "The moon that spark—"
A from him. I had the into his arm just above one and had the through. He to himself and then to drunkenly. The morphine, taking him in his weakness, quickly. Soon over his a peace dropped. The of the contracted. Once, twice, he and then, his bleeding, hands high and still the wheel, he to the deck.
With we the thongs, but at last it was done. We a little and the Tonga boys the great over the into the dory. Soon we had Huldricksson in my bunk. Da Costa sent his over to the in of the Cantonese. They took in all sail, Huldricksson's to the and then with the Brunhilda along after us at the end of a long hawser, one of the Tonga boys at her wheel, we the way so interrupted.
I and the Norseman's and the blackened, mouth with warm water and a mild antiseptic.
Suddenly I was aware of Da Costa's presence and turned. His was and held, it to me, a queer, anxiety.
"What you think of Olaf, sair?" he asked. I my shoulders. "You think he killed his woman and his babee?" He on. "You think he and killed all?"
"Nonsense, Da Costa," I answered. "You saw the was gone. Most his and to him him up the way you saw. They did the same thing with Hilton of the Coral Lady; you'll remember."
"No," he said. "No. The did not. Nobody there on when Olaf was tied."
"What!" I cried, startled. "What do you mean?"
"I mean," he said slowly, "that Olaf tie himself!"
"Wait!" he on at my of dissent. "Wait, I you." He had been with hands his and now I saw that he in them the cut that had Huldricksson. They were blood-stained and each ended in a leather into the cord. "Look," he said, pointing to these leather ends. I looked and saw in them of teeth. I one of the and opened the mouth of the man on the bunk. Carefully I the leather it and the on it. It was true. Those marks were where Olaf Huldricksson's had gripped.
"Wait!" Da Costa repeated, "I you." He took other and rested his hands on the supports of a chair back. Rapidly he one of the around his left hand, a knot, the up toward his elbow. This left and hand still free and with them he the other around the right wrist; a knot. His hands were now in the exact position that Huldricksson's had been on the Brunhilda but with and loose. Then Da Costa his head, took a leather end in his teeth and with a the that his left hand tight; he tight the second.
He at his fetters. There my he had himself so that without he not himself. And he was as Huldricksson had been!
"You will have to cut me loose, sair," he said. "I cannot move them. It is an old on these seas. Sometimes it is necessary that a man at the wheel many hours without help, and he this so that if he sleep the wheel wake him, yes, sair."
I looked from him to the man on the bed.
"But why, sair," said Da Costa slowly, "did Olaf have to tie his hands?"
I looked at him, uneasily.
"I don't know," I answered. "Do you?"
He fidgeted, my eyes, and then rapidly, almost himself.
"No," he replied. "I know nothing. Some I have heard—but they tell many on these seas."
He started for the door. Before he it he turned. "But this I do know," he whispered, "I am there is no full moon tonight." And passed out, me after him in amazement. What did the Portuguese know?
I over the sleeper. On his was no of that of the Dweller upon its victims.
And yet—what was it the Norseman had said?
"The took them!" Nay, he had been more explicit—"The that came from the moon!"
Could it be that the Dweller had upon the Brunhilda, the moon path Olaf Huldricksson's wife and as it had Throckmartin?
As I sat the dark and from above came a and of feet. Down upon us one of the abrupt, that are met with in those latitudes. I Huldricksson fast in the and ran up on deck.
The long, peaceful had into angry, from the of which the in long lashes.
A half-hour passed; the died as as it had arisen. The sea quieted. Over in the west, from the tattered, of the storm, the red of the setting sun; slowly until it touched the sea rim.
I it—and my and again. For over its portal something and black moved, like a finger!
Da Costa had it, too, and he the Suwarna toward the and its shadow. As we approached we saw it was a little of and that the was a of canvas, up and with the motion of the waves. On the point of the sat a tall a cigarette.
We the Suwarna to, a boat, and with myself as toward a hydroairplane. Its took a long at his cigarette, a hand, a greeting. And just as he did so a great itself up him, took the wreckage, it high in a of foam, and passed on. When we had our boat, where and man had been was—nothing.
There came a at the side—, two hands it close to my left, and a sleek, black, wet its top them. Two bright, that them a laughing looked into mine, and a long, itself over the and seated its self at my feet.
"Much obliged," said this man from the sea. "I somebody was sure to come along when the O'Keefe didn't up."
"The what?" I asked in amazement.
"The O'Keefe banshee—I'm Larry O'Keefe. It's a way from Ireland, but not too for the O'Keefe to travel if the O'Keefe was going to in."
I looked again at my rescue. He perfectly serious.
"Have you a cigarette? Mine out," he said with a grin, as he a hand out for the little cylinder, took it, it.
I saw a lean, was by the of the clean-cut and the that by with the in the laughing eyes; nose of a with the of a tilt; long, well-knit, that I must have all the of steel; the of a in the Royal Flying Corps of Britain's navy.
He laughed, out a hand, and mine.
"Thank you so much, old man," he said.
I liked Larry O'Keefe from the beginning—but I did not as the Tonga boys us to the Suwarna that was to be into man's love for man by which such as his and mine—and yours who read this—could dream.
Larry! Larry O'Keefe, where are you now with your and banshee, your of a child, your laughing eyes, and your soul? Shall I see you again, Larry O'Keefe, dear to me as some best brother? Larry!
