Sherlock Holmes complete collection by sir arthur conan doyle

THE SIGN OF FOUR: Chapter 10 THE END OF THE ISLANDER

OUR meal was a merry one. Holmes could talk exceedingly well when hechose, and that night he did choose. He appeared to be in a state ofnervous exaltation. I have never known him so brilliant. He spoke on aquick succession of subjects-on miracle plays, on mediaeval pottery, onStradivarius violins, on the Buddhism of Ceylon, and on the warships ofthe future-handling each as though he had made a special study of it. Hisbright humour marked the reaction from his black depression of thepreceding days. Athelney Jones proved to be a sociable soul in his hoursof relaxation and faced his dinner with the air of a bon vivant. For myself,I felt elated at the thought that we were nearing the end of our task, and Icaught [135] something of Holmes's gaiety. None of us alluded duringdinner to the cause which had brought us together.When the cloth was cleared Holmes glanced at his watch and filled upthree glasses with port."One bumper," said he, "to the success of our little expedition. Andnow it is high time we were off. Have you a pistol, Watson?""I have my old service-revolver in my desk.""You had best take it, then. It is well to be prepared. I see that the cab isat the door. I ordered it for half-past six."It was a little past seven before we reached the Westminster wharf andfound our launch awaiting us. Holmes eyed it critically."Is there anything to mark it as a police-boat?""Yes, that green lamp at the side.""Then take it off."The small change was made, we stepped on board, and the ropes werecast off. Jones, Holmes, and I sat in the stern. There was one man at therudder, one to tend the engines, and two burly police-inspectors forward."Where to?" asked Jones."To the Tower. Tell them to stop opposite to Jacobson's Yard."Our craft was evidently a very fast one. We shot past the long lines ofloaded barges as though they were stationary. Holmes smiled withsatisfaction as we overhauled a river steamer and left her behind us."We ought to be able to catch anything on the river," he said."Well, hardly that. But there are not many launches to beat us.""We shall have to catch the Aurora, and she has a name for being aclipper. I will tell you how the land lies, Watson. You recollect howannoyed I was at being baulked by so small a thing?""Yes.""Well, I gave my mind a thorough rest by plunging into a chemical analysis. One of our greatest statesmen has said that a change of work isthe best rest. So it is. When I had succeeded in dissolving the hydrocarbonwhich I was at work at, I came back to our problem of the Sholtos, andthought the whole matter out again. My boys had been up the river anddown the river without result. The launch was not at any landing-stage orwharf, nor had it returned. Yet it could hardly have been scuttled to hidetheir traces, though that always remained as a possible hypothesis if allelse failed. I knew that this man Small had a certain degree of lowcunning, but I did not think him capable of anything in the nature ofdelicate finesse. That is usually a product of higher education. I thenreflected that since he had certainly been in London some time-as we hadevidence that he maintained a continual watch over PondicherryLodge-he could hardly leave at a moment's notice, but would need somelittle time, if it were only a day, to arrange his affairs. That was thebalance of probability, at any rate.""It seems to me to be a little weak," said I; "it is more probable that hehad arranged his affairs before ever he set out upon his expedition.""No, I hardly think so. This lair of his would be too valuable a retreat incase of need for him to give it up until he was sure that he could dowithout it. But a second consideration struck me. Jonathan Small musthave felt that the peculiar appearance of his companion, however much hemay have top-coated him, would give rise to gossip, and possibly beassociated with this Norwood tragedy. He was [136] quite sharp enough tosee that. They had started from their headquarters under cover ofdarkness, and he would wish to get back before it was broad light. Now, itwas past three o'clock, according to Mrs. Smith, when they got the boat.It would be quite bright, and people would be about in an hour or so.Therefore, I argued, they did not go very far. They paid Smith well tohold his tongue, reserved his launch for the final escape, and hurried totheir lodgings with the treasure-box. In a couple of nights, when they hadtime to see what view the papers took, and whether there was anysuspicion, they would make their way under cover of darkness to someship at Gravesend or in the Downs, where no doubt they had alreadyarranged for passages to America or the Colonies.""But the launch? They could not have taken that to their lodgings.""Quite so. I argued that the launch must be no great way off, in spite ofits invisibility. I then put myself in the place of Small and looked at it as aman of his capacity would. He would probably consider that to send backthe launch or to keep it at a wharf would make pursuit easy if the policedid happen to get on his track. How, then, could he conceal the launchand yet have her at hand when wanted? I wondered what I should domyself if I were in his shoes. I could only think of one way of doing it. Imight hand the launch over to some boat-builder or repairer, withdirections to make a trifling change in her. She would then be removed tohis shed or yard, and so be effectually concealed, while at the same time Icould have her at a few hours' notice.""That seems simple enough.""It is just these very simple things which are extremely liable to beoverlooked. However, I determined to act on the idea. I started at once in this harmless seaman's rig and inquired at all the yards down the river. Idrew blank at fifteen, but at the sixteenth-Jacobson's-I learned that theAurora had been handed over to them two days ago by a wooden-leggedman, with some trivial directions as to her rudder. 'There ain't naughtamiss with her rudder,' said the foreman. 'There she lies, with the redstreaks.' At that moment who should come down but Mordecai Smith, themissing owner. He was rather the worse for liquor. I should not, ofcourse, have known him, but he bellowed out his name and the name ofhis launch. 'I want her to-night at eight o'clock,' said he-'eight o'clocksharp, mind, for I have two gentlemen who won't be kept waiting.' Theyhad evidently paid him well, for he was very flush of money, chuckingshillings about to the men. I followed him some distance, but he subsidedinto an alehouse; so I went back to the yard, and, happening to pick upone of my boys on the way, I stationed him as a sentry over the launch.He is to stand at the water's edge and wave his handkerchief to us whenthey start. We shall be lying off in the stream, and it will be a strangething if we do not take men, treasure, and all.""You have planned it all very neatly, whether they are the right men ornot," said Jones; "but if the affair were in my hands I should have had abody of police in Jacobson's Yard and arrested them when they camedown.""Which would have been never. This man Small is a pretty shrewdfellow. He would send a scout on ahead, and if anything made himsuspicious he would lie snug for another week.""But you might have stuck to Mordecai Smith, and so been led to theirhiding-place," said I."In that case I should have wasted my day. I think that it is a hundred toone against Smith knowing where they live. As long as he has liquor andgood pay, [137] why should he ask questions? They send him messageswhat to do. No, I thought over every possible course, and this is the best."While this conversation had been proceeding, we had been shooting thelong series of bridges which span the Thames. As we passed the City thelast rays of the sun were gilding the cross upon the summit of St. Paul's.It was twilight before we reached the Tower."That is Jacobson's Yard," said Holmes, pointing to a bristle of mastsand rigging on the Surrey side. "Cruise gently up and down here undercover of this string of lighters." He took a pair of night-glasses from hispocket and gazed some time at the shore. "I see my sentry at his post," heremarked, "but no sign of a handkerchief.""Suppose we go downstream a short way and lie in wait for them," saidJones eagerly.We were all eager by this time, even the policemen and stokers, whohad a very vague idea of what was going forward."We have no right to take anything for granted," Holmes answered. "Itis certainly ten to one that they go downstream, but we cannot be certain.From this point we can see the entrance of the yard, and they can hardlysee us. It will be a clear night and plenty of light. We must stay where weare. See how the folk swarm over yonder in the gaslight.""They are coming from work in the yard." "Dirty-looking rascals, but I suppose every one has some littleimmortal spark concealed about him. You would not think it, to look atthem. There is no a priori probability about it. A strange enigma is man!""Someone calls him a soul concealed in an animal," I suggested."Winwood Reade is good upon the subject," said Holmes. "He remarksthat, while the individual man is an insoluble puzzle, in the aggregate hebecomes a mathematical certainty. You can, for example, never foretellwhat any one man will do, but you can say with precision what anaverage number will be up to. Individuals vary, but percentages remainconstant. So says the statistician. But do I see a handkerchief? Surelythere is a white flutter over yonder.""Yes, it is your boy," I cried. "I can see him plainly.""And there is the Aurora," exclaimed Holmes, "and going like thedevil! Full speed ahead, engineer. Make after that launch with the yellowlight. By heaven, I shall never forgive myself if she proves to have theheels of us!"She had slipped unseen through the yard-entrance and passed betweentwo or three small craft, so that she had fairly got her speed up before wesaw her. Now she was flying down the stream, near in to the shore, goingat a tremendous rate. Jones looked gravely at her and shook his head."She is very fast," he said. "I doubt if we shall catch her.""We must catch her!" cried Holmes between his teeth. "Heap it on,stokers! Make her do all she can! If we burn the boat we must have them!"We were fairly after her now. The furnaces roared, and the powerfulengines whizzed and clanked like a great metallic heart. Her sharp, steepprow cut through the still river-water and sent two rolling waves to rightand to left of us. With every throb of the engines we sprang and quiveredlike a living thing. One great yellow lantern in our bows threw a long,flickering funnel of light in front of us. Right ahead a dark blur upon thewater showed where the Aurora lay, and the swirl of white foam behindher spoke of the pace at which she was going. We flashed [138] pastbarges, steamers, merchant-vessels, in and out, behind this one and roundthe other. Voices hailed us out of the darkness, but still the Aurorathundered on, and still we followed close upon her track."Pile it on, men, pile it on!" cried Holmes, looking down into theengine-room, while the fierce glow from below beat upon his eager,aquiline face. "Get every pound of steam you can.""I think we gain a little," said Jones with his eyes on the Aurora."I am sure of it," said I. "We shall be up with her in a very fewminutes."At that moment, however, as our evil fate would have it, a tug withthree barges in tow blundered in between us. It was only by putting ourhelm hard down that we avoided a collision, and before we could roundthem and recover our way the Aurora had gained a good two hundredyards. She was still, however, well in view, and the murky, uncertaintwilight was settling into a clear, starlit night. Our boilers were strained totheir utmost, and the frail shell vibrated and creaked with the fierceenergy which was driving us along. We had shot through the pool, pastthe West India Docks, down the long Deptford Reach, and up again afterrounding the Isle of Dogs. The dull blur in front of us resolved itself nowclearly into the dainty Aurora. Jones turned our searchlight upon her, sothat we could plainly see the figures upon her deck. One man sat by thestern, with something black between his knees, over which he stooped.Beside him lay a dark mass, which looked like a Newfoundland dog. Theboy held the tiller, while against the red glare of the furnace I could seeold Smith, stripped to the waist, and shovelling coals for dear life. Theymay have had some doubt at first as to whether we were really pursuingthem, but now as we followed every winding and turning which they tookthere could no longer be any question about it. At Greenwich we wereabout three hundred paces behind them. At Blackwall we could not havebeen more than two hundred and fifty. I have coursed many creatures inmany countries during my checkered career, but never did sport give mesuch a wild thrill as this mad, flying man-hunt down the Thames. Steadilywe drew in upon them, yard by yard. In the silence of the night we couldhear the panting and clanking of their machinery. The man in the sternstill crouched upon the deck, and his arms were moving as though hewere busy, while every now and then he would look up and measure witha glance the distance which still separated us. Nearer we came and nearer.Jones yelled to them to stop. We were not more than four boat's-lengthsbehind them, both boats flying at a tremendous pace. It was a clear reachof the river, with Barking Level upon one side and the melancholyPlumstead Marshes upon the other. At our hail the man in the stern sprang up from the deck and shook his two clenched fists at us, cursing the whilein a high, cracked voice. He was a good-sized, powerful man, and as hestood poising himself with legs astride I could see that from the thighdownward there was but a wooden stump upon the right side. At thesound of his strident, angry cries, there was movement in the huddledbundle upon the deck. It straightened itself into a little black man-thesmallest I have ever seen-with a great, misshapen head and a shock oftangled, dishevelled hair. Holmes had already drawn his revolver, and Iwhipped out mine at the sight of this savage, distorted creature. He waswrapped in some sort of dark ulster or blanket, which left only his faceexposed, but that face was enough to give a man a sleepless night. Neverhave I seen features so deeply marked with all bestiality and cruelty. Hissmall eyes glowed and burned with a sombre light, and his thick lips werewrithed back from his teeth, which grinned and chattered at us with halfanimal fury.[139] "Fire if he raises his hand," said Holmes quietly.We were within a boat's-length by this time, and almost within touch ofour quarry. I can see the two of them now as they stood, the white manwith his legs far apart, shrieking out curses, and the unhallowed dwarfwith his hideous face, and his strong yellow teeth gnashing at us in thelight of our lantern.It was well that we had so clear a view of him. Even as we looked heplucked out from under his covering a short, round piece of wood, like a school-ruler, and clapped it to his lips. Our pistols rang out together. Hewhirled round, threw up his arms, and, with a kind of choking cough, fellsideways into the stream. I caught one glimpse of his venomous,menacing eyes amid the white swirl of the waters. At the same momentthe wooden-legged man threw himself upon the rudder and put it harddown, so that his boat made straight in for the southern bank, while weshot past her stern, only clearing her by a few feet. We were round afterher in an instant, but she was already nearly at the bank. It was a wild anddesolate place, where the moon glimmered upon a wide expanse of marshland, with pools of stagnant water and beds of decaying vegetation. Thelaunch, with a dull thud, ran up upon the mud-bank, with her bow in theair and her stern flush with the water. The fugitive sprang out, but hisstump instantly sank its whole length into the sodden soil. In vain hestruggled and writhed. Not one step could he possibly take either forwardor backward. He yelled in impotent rage and kicked frantically into themud with his other foot, but his struggles only bored his wooden pin thedeeper into the sticky bank. When we brought our launch alongside hewas so firmly anchored that it was only by throwing the end of a ropeover his shoulders that we were able to haul him out and to drag him, likesome evil fish, over our side. The two Smiths, father and son, sat sullenlyin their launch but came aboard meekly enough when commanded. TheAurora herself we hauled off and made fast to our stern. A solid ironchest of Indian workmanship stood upon the deck. This, there could be noquestion, was the same that had contained the ill-omened treasure of theSholtos. There was no key, but it was of considerable weight, so wetransferred it carefully to our own little cabin. As we steamed slowlyupstream again, we flashed our searchlight in every direction, but therewas no sign of the Islander. Somewhere in the dark ooze at the bottom ofthe Thames lie the bones of that strange visitor to our shores."See here," said Holmes, pointing to the wooden hatchway. "We werehardly quick enough with our pistols." There, sure enough, just behindwhere we had been standing, stuck one of those murderous darts whichwe knew so well. It must have whizzed between us at the instant we fired.Holmes smiled at it and shrugged his shoulders in his easy fashion, but Iconfess that it turned me sick to think of the horrible death which hadpassed so close to us that night.