he said — but the man shook his head smilingly.
“On the contrary I have my discharge from the navy, properly attested and signed by my good captain. You will find it at my lodgings, in a tin trunk under a picture of the blessed Saint Teresa of Avila, or, as some say, Sergovia. No, monsieur officer, I am discharged honourably. Listen.”
His cigarette was nearly finished, and T.B. opened his case again, and the man, with a grateful inclination of his head, helped himself. Slowly, he began his story, a story which, before all others, helps the mind to grasp the magnitude of a combination which made the events he described possible.
“I was a sub-officer on the Maria Braganza,” he began, and went on to narrate the history of the voyage of that remarkable battleship from the day it left Rio until it steamed into the roadstead off Cadiz.
“We stayed at Cadiz much longer than we expected, and the men were grumbling — because our next port was to have been Rio. But for some reason our Captain Lombrosa did not wish to sail. Then one day he came on board — he spent most of his time ashore — looking extremely happy. Previous to this he had lived and walked in gloom, as though some matter were preying on his mind. But this was all changed now. Whatever troubles he had were evaporated. He walked about the deck, smiling and cracking jokes, and we naturally concluded that he had received his orders to sail back to Brazil at once.
“That same day we were ordered to take on board stores which the Government had purchased. Whatever stores these were, they were extremely heavy. They were packed in little square boxes, strongly made and clamped with steel. Of these boxes we took two hundred and fifty, and the business of transporting them occupied the greater part of a whole day.”
“What was the weight of them?” asked T.B.
“About fifty kilos,” said the man, “and,” he added with an assumption of carelessness, “they each contained gold.”
T.B. did a little sum in his head.
“In fact a million and a half of English pounds,” he said half to himself.
“As to that I do not know,” said the other, “but it was enormous; I discovered the gold by accident, for I and another officer had been chosen to store the boxes in one of the ammunition flats, and, owing to the breaking of a box, I saw — what I saw.
“However, to get back to the captain. In the evening he came aboard, having first given orders for steam to be ready and every preparation made for slipping.
“Then it was I told him that I had seen the contents of one of the boxes, and he was distressed.
“‘Who else has seen this?’ he asked, and I informed him of the sub-officer who had been with me.
“‘Do not speak of this matter, as you value your soul,’ he said, ‘for this is a high Government secret — send sub-officer Alverez to me ‘ — that was the name of my companion. I obeyed and sent Alverez aft. He too received similar injunctions, and was dismissed.
“At ten o’clock that night, the quartermasters went to their stations, and all stood ready for dropping our mooring.
“As the hours wore on, the captain began to show signs of impatience. I was on the bridge with the officer of the watch, and the captain was pacing up and down, now looking at his watch and swearing, now training his binocular on a portion of the land to the north of the town.
“I had forgotten to say that at 8.30 the ship’s steam pinnace had been sent away, and that it had not returned.
“It was for the coming of the pinnace, and whoever was coming with it, that our captain displayed so much anxiety.
“It was eleven o’clock before the boat came alongside. We heard it racing across the water — for the night was very still. Then it drew alongside, and a number of gentlemen came on board. They were all talking excitedly, and seemed as though they had walked a long distance, for, by the light of the branch lamp that lit the gangway, I saw that their boots and trousers were white with dust, such as I believe lies on the road outside Cadiz. One was in a state of great fear; he was very stout. Another, and he was the leader, spoke to our captain, and soon after I heard the order given—’Quartermaster, stand by for going out of harbour,’ and the captain gave the navigating officer his course. We went out at full speed, steering a course due west.
“It was a perfectly calm night, with stars, but no moon. When (as near as I can guess) we were twenty miles from the coast, the captain sent for me and Alverez to his cabin.
“‘My friends,’ he said, ‘I have a proposition to make to you, but first let me ask you if you are good patriots.’
“We said that we were.
“‘What,’ said the captain, addressing himself to me, ‘do you value your patriotism at?’
“I was silent.
“Monsieur,” said the prisoner earnestly, “I assure you I was not considering the insult offered to me, because we had got to a point outside of abstract morality. In my mind was a dilemma — if I ask too much I might lose an opportunity, if I ask too little I should assuredly lose money. Such was also the consideration in Alverez’s mind. ‘Senor Capitan,’ I said, ‘as an honest man—’
“‘We will leave that out of the question,’ said the captain. ‘Name a price.’
“And so, at random, I suggested a sum equal to £3,000, and Alverez, not a man of any originality, repeated ‘£3,000.’
“The captain nodded; ‘This sum I will pay you,’ he said. ‘Moreover, I will give you your discharge from the Navy of Brazil, and you may leave the ship tonight.’
“I did not ask him why. I realised he had some high scheme which it was not proper I should know, besides which I had not been ashore for a month — and there was the £3,000.
“‘Before you go,’ said the captain, ‘I will explain to you, that my honour and my reputation may not suffer. In a few days’ time, when we are at sea, the comrades you leave behind will be offered a new service, a service under a new and wealthier government, a government that will offer large and generous rewards for faithful service and obedience.’”
The prisoner chuckled softly, as at some thought which amused him.
“We went ashore in the steam pinnace; the captain himself superintending our landing. It was a remarkable journey, senor.
“You may imagine us in the open sea, with nothing but the ‘chica clucka, clucka!’ of the engine of our little boat! Alverez and myself sat at the bow with our hands on the butts of our revolvers — we knew our captain — and he himself steered us for the lights that soon came up over the horizon. We landed at Cadiz, and were provided with papers to the Brazilian consul, should our return be noticed. But none saw us, or if they did, thought nothing of the spectacle of two Brazilian seamen walking through the streets at that hour of the night; remember that none but the port authorities were aware that the Maria Braganza had sailed. The next morning we procured some civilian clothing, and left by the afternoon train for Seville. By easy stages we came first to Madrid, then to Paris. Here we stayed some time.”
He chuckled again.
“Alverez,” he resumed, “is a man of spirit, but, as I have said, of no great originality. In Paris a man of spirit may go far, a man of money farther, always providing that behind the spirit and the wealth there is intelligence. My poor Alverez went his own way in Paris. He made friends.”
Again he smiled thoughtfully.
“Alverez I left,” he explained; “his ways are not my ways. I came to England. I do not like this country,” he said frankly. “Your lower classes are gross people, and very quarrelsome.”
A few more questions were asked, and answered, and ten minutes later T.B. was flying back to Scotland Yard with the story of the stolen battleship.