The Shadow - Crime Rides The Sea Part 2

Harry's impulse was to plunge in and help the loyal crew suppress the traitors; but Cliff dragged him elsewhere, for he had other orders from The Shadow. Dropping through a hatchway, they saw The Shadow pausing beside Barvale's big strong box.

For a moment, Harry thought that battle was coming there; then he saw The Shadow turn and make for a destination deeper in the hold. His guns were talking when the agents overtook him. Shooting through an opening in a bulkhead, The Shadow had dropped a pair of guards who were there to block him.

Other crooks were in sight, scattering for distant outlets. Thinking that The Shadow's gunshots were the cause, the agents sprang forward to begin pursuit. Whirling about, The Shadow threw his arms wide; driving with full force, he flung his own men to the floor and took a rolling dive beyond them.

All three were flat when a sheet of roaring flame scorched through the hold, accompanied by a mighty concussion that shook the rivets from the plates of the old freighter. In that hollow confine, the blast was tremendous, half deafening The Shadow and his agents.

They could feel the withering power of the flames, as fierce as a burst from a volcano's crater. Fortunately, the singeing effect was instantaneous; otherwise, they could not have survived the h.e.l.lish ordeal.

A few moments later, the explosion had become a quiver of persistentechoes accompanied by utter blackness.

THE effect upon the Ozark was stupendous. The old freighter took a heave that seemed to carry it from the foam of the Atlantic, then settled with a mammoth splash that clattered the freighter's split sides. There was a gush like the tune of many cataracts, as water poured through the vessel's ruined hull.

Too late to prevent the blast below, The Shadow had other work above.

Spurring Harry and Cliff to their feet, he guided them through the darkness, straight to the hatchway. They reached the deck stumbling, for the sinking Ozark had heeled to a steep angle.

There was confusion all about. Sniping gunmen were hara.s.sing men who carried flashlights, trying to prevent them from getting to the lifeboats. If those crooks had their way, all but themselves would perish when the freighter went down. It was The Shadow who provided the antidote to that poison.

Dispatching his agents to aid the loyal crew, he dropped to the deck and introduced sniping tactics of his own. Instead of flashlights, he used the spurts of guns as targets. There were plops along the deck, as sharpshooting mobsters went flat. Some of them tried to find The Shadow, but had no luck. He shifted elusively, after every shot.

Snipers gave up their effort. Aft of the bridge, Harry and Cliff used flashlights to aid in gathering pa.s.sengers and crew. Lifeboats were off their davits, reaching the water on the low side of the ship. Battle, for the moment, was forgotten. Though the Ozark could float but a few minutes longer, rescue of all aboard seemed sure, except for forgotten crooks who had come out second best in battling The Shadow.

The last boat offered an unexpected obstacle. It was sticking in its davits, while a few excited pa.s.sengers tried to hurry the seamen who were working with it. There was a creak farther forward; someone shouted that a boat had been lowered near the bow. Eager men started forward, Harry and Cliff among them.

A flashlight gleamed suddenly in their path. An instant later, a finger flicked a transparent shutter across the flashlight's lens. The glow turned red. Understanding the signal, Harry and Cliff held back the men who were with them.

That was The Shadow's signal. He had stopped the rush just in time. The boat that was putting off was loaded with crooks who would have battled any boarders. It was a special boat, prepared for this emergency; from it came the sudden hum of a gasoline motor.

A searchlight swung; in its pa.s.sing glow, it turned to the interior of the motorized lifeboat. From the deck of the Ozark, cl.u.s.tered men caught a glimpse of the mobsmen who had battled them. In with the gang was Edna Barvale.

Some of the pa.s.sengers recognized the girl, and shouted angrily. For Edna was a blonde no longer. She had found time to resume the wig and brunette make-up which she used when she pa.s.sed as Ruth Eldrey. Harry expected her to shout back at the men marooned aboard the freighter, but Edna paid no attention to their irate calls.

The brief glimpse was ended. The motorboat was well away, its occupants too eager for escape to bother about firing shots at those who seemed doomed on the Ozark's deck. Nor did The Shadow open fire. He knew that moments were too precious.

He was at a new spot, where the freighter's rail was level with thewater.

Another flick of his special flashlight; its gleam became green.

Shouting for others to follow, Harry and Cliff reached the point where The Shadow had signaled. They came upon the last lifeboat, now released in its davits by The Shadow. A minute's work, the craft was in the water.

In the darkness, The Shadow was helping launch the boat. His flashlight, yellow again, showed that everyone was aboard. The Shadow swung across the stern of the tiny craft.

It was in that final moment when the lifeboat put off, that an accident occurred beyond The Shadow's reach. Harry Vincent had hold of the lifeboat's side; but his foot was caught in the rail that he had left. He yelled to Cliff, too late. Cliff was shoving away at the lifeboat's bow.

Another man heard the call. Reaching over the side, he clutched at Harry's shoulders. His foot freed, Harry was hauled from the water. It was a fortunate rescue, for at that moment, any delay would have been fatal to all.

AS Harry sprawled into the lifeboat, oars were lashing at the water. The Ozark was settling for her final plunge, threatening to carry the lifeboat with her.

Twisting away, the tiny lifeboat was dwarfed by the keeling bulk of the freighter; which was outlined against a dim dawn that cut faintly through the lifting fog. It seemed that the huge superstructure would crush the eggsh.e.l.l craft beneath it. Above loomed the big single funnel, swinging downward like a toppling tower.

There was slowness, though, in the final dive of the old freighter.

Scudding as rapidly as oars could propel it, the lifeboat cleared before the freighter settled. Then came the moment when the Ozark quivered like a monster in its death throes.

Twisting as she sank, the eight-thousand-ton ship poked its stern above the water. The lifeboat was a hundred feet away, when the rudder followed the big blades of the propeller into the ocean's depths.

Spinning amid a sudden whirlpool, the lifeboat threatened to capsize.

Fortunately, that last boat was not overcrowded; otherwise, she could not have survived the maelstrom created by the suction of the sinking freighter.

Bobbing on the surface, the lifeboat dipped sufficiently to receive a brief deluge from the ocean, but she withstood that test.

Soon, the little boat was sweeping into calmer waters, where she rode the even swell of the Atlantic. While rescued men plied the oars, others strained their eyes toward the spot where the Ozark had vanished. They weren't thinking of the battered freighter, for the Ozark was a ship that should have been junked before this cruise.

They were thinking of the freighter's cargo, that strong box with its contents valued at two million dollars. With human lives at stake, they had forgotten the gold and silver that Hugh Barvale had shipped aboard. They were remembering it at last, and with awe, as their murmurs told.

Crime's purpose, strange though it might seem, had been to sink the Ozark in order to get rid of the freighter's precious cargo. That was obvious, because crooks had made no effort to seize the strong box before they sank the ship.

Therefore, crime had triumphed. Criminals had won a victory, despite the presence of their most-feared foe, The Shadow. Furthermore, those criminals had escaped unpunished, their evil work accomplished. Yet there was something that told that crooks might be due for future disappointment. That something was a sound that stirred from somewhere in the lifeboat, so evasively that, when men looked about, no one could tell whose lips had uttered it.

The sound was the whispered laugh of The Shadow!

CHAPTER V.

THE NEW CAMPAIGN.

THOUGH Harry Vincent had encountered a full share of surprises while aboard the Ozark, he was due to meet with more. The first came within five minutes after the lifeboat had begun its sh.o.r.eward haul.

Harry remembered that someone had given him a very timely lift into the boat. The man in question was right behind the thwart upon which Harry sat; and he certainly deserved thanks for his effort. Harry turned around to face him.

Though his mouth was opened wide, Harry couldn't manage to pipe a word of grat.i.tude.

He was staring at the sallow face of Third Officer Pell, the man that Harry had picked as Traitor No. 1 aboard the Ozark!

Pell didn't guess the thoughts in Harry's mind. He supposed that the rescued man was faltering merely because he could not find suitable expression for his thanks. Pell clapped a friendly hand on Harry's shoulder.

"Forget it, old chap!" he said. "We all did our part. You wouldn't have been tangled on that rail, if you hadn't worked at lowering the lifeboat. I'm the one that ought to be thanking you."

Pell's hand shoved forward, and Harry gripped it. The Shadow's agent grinned, somewhat grimly. Again, Pell didn't catch the significance.

Through Harry's brain were flashing many thoughts; a complete sequence that explained the past.

He had misinterpreted events back at the New York pier. Pell's actions there had been produced by honest worry. The third officer had suspected that matters were wrong aboard the Ozark, but hadn't had enough evidence to go on.

Pell had tried to delay the freighter's departure because he sensed that fog, outside the harbor, would make navigation difficult and therefore be of advantage to anyone who tried to make trouble.

When battle had begun along the pier, Pell hadn't been able to contain himself. That was why he had opened fire from the rail. But he hadn't been shooting at The Shadow. He had tried to pick off some of the thugs who were making it tough for their black-cloaked foeman.

From Harry's report, The Shadow had divined exactly how Pell stood. That realization brought a startling sequel.

The message that Pell had read and tossed away, had been given him by The Shadow!

It was all clear at last; as plain as the early daylight that now streamed upon the plodding lifeboat. Foggy thoughts were vanishing from Harry's brain as rapidly as the sea mist was dissolving in the dawn.

Pell had recognized The Shadow as a friend. Encountering him aboard the Ozark, the third officer had taken orders from the cloaked stowaway. Those orders had been to change the freighter's course; and Pell had done so.

But why had The Shadow wanted it?

The answer came suddenly to Harry Vincent, as a shout broke from the survivors aboard the small craft. Swinging about, Harry saw other tiny boats bobbing in the swells. They carried the first survivors who had left the Ozark, but the motorized crook-manned lifeboat was not among them. It had vanished onanother course.

It wasn't sight of the other boats that had caused the enthusiastic shout.

Men were pointing elsewhere, to the west. Harry swung farther around. Beyond the lifeboat's bow, he saw a splendid scene.

OUT of the last wisps of mist projected a galaxy of tall spires. mingled with high block-shaped buildings that formed long, straight line.

At first, Harry blinked, thinking that the sight was a mirage, for it seemed fantastic to suppose that a city could be floating on the waves, a hundred or more miles out to sea. Then he made out a sweep of sandy sh.o.r.e, a railed object that looked like a low bridge.

Harry recognized that structure as a boardwalk. He knew where they were, a moment before the men about him shouted: "Atlantic City!"

The Ozark had gone down only a few miles off the famous New Jersey sh.o.r.e resort. If ill luck had not thwarted The Shadow's plan, daylight would have found the ship just past Cape May, almost in the shelter of Delaware Bay.

Crooks would then have realized their helplessness. Whatever fight they started would have been useless. The Ozark could have come to port with mutineers in irons, its two-million-dollar strong box saved from a trip to the ocean's depths.

Unfortunately, that hadn't been accomplished; but neither had the criminals managed their own task. They had sunk the Ozark, but that was only half their duty. They had been instructed to do their evil work many miles off sh.o.r.e, in waters so deep that divers could never find the old freighter.

Supposing the ship to be due east of New York, they had figured that their work was sure.

Instead, the Ozark had foundered in water no deeper than a dozen fathoms, where she could be located and her cargo salvaged. That would be a jolt for the crooks when they learned it. Not only for the small-fry, but for the big-shot who had flashed the wireless call to sink the Ozark promptly.

And to Harry Vincent, that brought the satisfied thought that the news would worry Hugh Barvale and his double-crossing daughter Edna, otherwise known as Ruth Eldrey.

OARS were pulling hard. The lifeboats were coming closer together, as they approached the breakers. Along the boardwalk, early promenaders were pointing excitedly out to sea. Lifeguards were signaling from canopied platforms on the beach. They shoved their own boats out into the surf, to meet the survivors from the Ozark.

The lifeboats pitched among the breakers, while sh.o.r.e guards hovered near, ready for rescue if any boats capsized. The precaution proved unnecessary, for the surf was not overheavy. Pulling into a beach between two amus.e.m.e.nt piers that jutted out beyond the breakers, the lifeboats stranded in the shallower water. Leaping out, men hauled them up to the dry sand.

While Pell and other officers were telling of the disaster, Harry observed a hawk-faced man who was talking with police who had arrived from the boardwalk.

From his attire, it was difficult to tell whether the individual was apa.s.senger from the Ozark, or a member of the crew. Each group could easily have supposed that he belonged to the other.

Whatever the hawkish man had to say, it impressed the police. They hurried away, and Harry Vincent had a hunch that they would soon spread the news of crooks who were riding the high seas, not many miles from Atlantic City.

That wasn't all, however. The police complied with a request made by the hawk-faced spokesman. For, shortly, uniformed attendants arrived from a beach-front hotel and politely invited the men from the Ozark to follow them.

Soon, pa.s.sengers and crew found themselves in a palatial lobby, where clerks were a.s.signing them to rooms. A head waiter was also present, bowing the way to the dining room, where a welcome breakfast awaited.

Cliff had joined Harry. Both were standing by the desk, looking for the personage who had made these excellent arrangements. Just then, a clerk answered the telephone. The Shadow's agents heard him say: "Yes, Mr. Cranston. Their names... Mr. Vincent and Mr. Marsland... I'll find them right away, sir..."

Harry and Cliff promptly identified themselves. The clerk told them that Mr. Lamont Cranston was having breakfast in his suite on the sixth floor and would like them to join him. They went up to the suite; when they rapped, a quiet voice ordered them to enter.

Lamont Cranston stood awaiting them. His thin lips gave a slight smile, for the benefit of the two men who knew him to be The Shadow. Both Harry and Cliff had met their chief in such a guise before. Yet neither, for the life of him, could have sworn that The Shadow was Lamont Cranston.

There was something masklike about his hawkish countenance, that gave it the look of a well-formed disguise when its owner stood in the glare of daylight, as he was now doing, beside the wide windows of the hotel room.

True, there was such a person as Lamont Cranston, a wealthy globe-trotter who spent his leisure time in New York. But there had also been occasions - remembered only by The Shadow's agents - when two Cranstons had appeared in different places at the same time.

As Harry and Cliff seated themselves at a well-stocked breakfast table, their chief pointed from the window, toward the wide expanse of inlet at the north of Absecon Island. Off beyond the limits of Atlantic City, trim speedboats were putting out to sea, bound in search of the crooks who had fled the sinking Ozark.

Turning from the window, The Shadow picked up a wrapped roll of thin canvas that a bellboy had brought from the lifeboat. From it, he took a rumpled cloak and flattened slouch hat, together with a brace of automatics. He packed those in a table drawer, then joined his agents at breakfast.

"Those crooks are likely to escape," declared The Shadow, in an even tone that suited Cranston, "for there are many inlets where they might land, once they learn that they are close to sh.o.r.e. The pursuit that I arranged" - again he pointed out through the window - "is scarcely more than a gesture."

There was a pause, while The Shadow's eyes took on a far-away glitter.

"They will return to New York" - the even tone seemed one of prophecy - "and there, I shall expect you to find them. Keep in close contact with Burbank. He will have full instructions, and will manage matters during my absence."

HARRY glanced toward Cliff, to see surprise there that matched his own.

Both agents supposed that The Shadow would be in New York also. They couldn't understand what business would take him elsewhere.

"Do not concern yourselves with Hugh Barvale," resumed The Shadow.

"However deeply he may be involved, his part is a remote one, requiring nocontacts with the actual criminals."

"But his daughter was aboard the Ozark!" blurted Harry, realizing that he had not reported the fact. "She was pa.s.sing as Ruth Eldrey!"

"I suspected it," answered The Shadow, calmly. "That is why I ordered you to watch her. The evidence, however, indicated that the gang on the Ozark also believed her to be Ruth Eldrey, rather than Edna Barvale. As I said before, we may consider Barvale's part as remote."

It was dawning on Harry that the very completeness of Edna's disguise had been a give-away to The Shadow. The girl had overdone it, as far as he was concerned. It had been worthy of notice, from The Shadow's viewpoint, that whereas Edna Barvale was a p.r.o.nounced blonde, Ruth Eldrey had been an extreme brunette. Women, when they disguised themselves, invariably thought in terms of opposites.

There was silence, while Harry and Cliff finished their ham and eggs.

They were swallowing their coffee, when The Shadow again spoke in Cranston's steady style. He had risen, had strolled to a front window that overlooked the ocean.

"That wireless message" - The Shadow's tone was one of recollection - "came from somewhere at sea. It was sent by the man who is in active charge of all, criminal operations. That man" - there was a marked pause, before The Shadow gave the name - "is known as Pointer Trame!"

The agents were electrified. They had shared in previous battles with members of The Hand. They had expected Pointer Trame to be next in line, but had not connected him with recent crimes at sea. Yet they saw the logic of The Shadow's discovery.

Blackmail - rackets - murder; such had been the previous activities of the different "fingers" who had met their finish. Each had played his own chosen game. The next to come was theft, for it was a specialty with Pointer Trame.

These crimes at sea, despite their oddity, smacked definitely of theft; and, therefore, of Pointer Trame.