“That was a wonderful way to die—wonderful!
But I, Beatrice, look at me, child!—I have
surpassed Samson! Listen! You will wonder
and you will admire when you hear it! When I
got the word that you were dead, I knew two things:
first, that the prophecy of my death at sea would come
true, and secondly that my gold must perish with me.
You will never guess how long I pondered over a way
to destroy my gold before I died! You will think
I could have simply thrown it into the sea? Yes,
but the ship was filled with men ready to mutiny,
and they were hungry for my wealth. They would
never have allowed me to destroy that gold! So
I thought of a way—ah, it was an inspiration!—by
which I could destroy my body, my wealth, and the
lives of all the mutineers at once. Like Samson,
I would pull the house on the heads of my enemies.
Ha, ha, ha!”
His laughter was rather a grimace than a sound.
He went on: “See how cunningly, how carefully
I worked! First I blew up the three lifeboats
so that there would be no escape for the crew.
Then I tampered with the dynamo so that it burned
out, and they could not send out a wireless call for
help. That touch was the best of all. Well,
well! Then I went down into the hold, deep down,
and I started a fire in the cargo. And then—”
“Oh, my God!” stammered Sloan.
The others were white, but they gestured at Sloan
to silence him. The whisper continued: “And
then I knew that they were done for. The wheat
would not break into a sudden flame, but it would smolder
and glow and spread from hour to hour and from day
to day. The crew would know nothing of it for
a long time. But when they guessed at what was
happening, they would open the hatches to fight the
fire with water. Then what would happen?
Ah, my dear, there was the crowning touch; for when
they opened the hatches, the current of air would feed
the fire and the ship would be instantly in flames.
And so they would burn like dogs with water, water
all around them, and no boats to put off in—no
boats. Ha, ha, ha!”
He choked with his laughter and gasped for breath.
“If it were possible for a bodiless spirit to
perish, I should think that I am dying twice, Beatrice.
The air is thick—this air of hell!”
He broke off short in his whispering and raised himself
suddenly to an elbow. With the coming of death
his voice grew strong and rang clearly: “They
are in the corners—they are coming closer!
Beatrice! Brush them away with your fingers as
cold as snow. Beatrice, oh, my dear!”
And he was dead as he fell back on the bunk.
Sloan was already on the deck outside the wireless
house, shrieking with all the power of his lungs:
“Fire! Fire! The wheat in the hold!”
And as Harrigan and McTee, followed by Kate and Campbell,
ran out to the open air, they saw the crowd of the
mutineers surge across the waist toward Sloan with
upturned faces, wondering, and ready for terror.
Hovey broke through their midst.
