Glencannon, page 21
"MacCrummon!" he bawled, shaking his fist at a figure at work dismantling a ventilator blower on the boat deck. "Hoot, MacCrummon! Hoot, ye puling Dunvegan gowk! Step to the rail, I dare ye, and listen whilst I speak me mind to ye! If I—"
Suddenly, clutching the slipping overalls, Mr. Glencannon stilled his tirade. He felt the overalls experimentally. He thrust his hand into their right rear pocket, and a smile downed upon his countenance.
"Yoo-hoo! Davey!" he shouted again. "That wallet o' yere's that ye left hame so conveniently last nicht! Have ye got it safe and soond, auld mon?"
He saw Mr. MacCrummon grin, nod, and pat his right hip confidently. Then he saw him stiffen, drop his wrench and clap both hands to his rear.
The Malaita's engines were rung to full-ahead now, and she was rapidly sliding away. As she faded into the silvery morning haze, Mr. MacCrummon was still patting himself. Patting front, back, sides. Patting frantically. Patting vainly!
Humming a snatch of lilting song, Mr. Glencannon strolled aft to his room, his glorious pelt aripple in the North Sea breeze.
Two hours later, the newspaper presses in London's Fleet Street were rumbling out the story which rounds out our own:
MYSTERIOUS DRAMA OF THE SEA
MUTINY, MURDER FEARED IN STRANGE
EVENTS OFF THE NORE
"PIRATE CRUISE" PASSENGERS WITNESS
TRAGEDY ON TRAMP
Shortly after 10 o'clock this morning, the 25,000-ton S.S. Malaita, of the White Crown Line, was proceeding down the Thames Estuary on the first stage of a three months' "pirate cruise" to the West Indies and South American ports, when she overhauled the S.S. Inchcliffe Castle, 3500 tons, Messrs. Clifford, Castle & Co., Ltd., owners. To passengers, officers and crew of the Malaita, it was at once apparent that all was not well aboard the smaller vessel. Screaming with terror and evidently suffering from wounds, a man was being pursued around the decks by a band of cutthroats spurred on by a burly ruffian on the bridge. The fugitive was overtaken and, according to horror-stricken eyewitnesses, disemboweled on the Inchcliffe Castle's deck.
The Malaita was at once brought to, but Captain Darnley's offer of assistance was spurned with abuse and profanity by the ringleader of the supposed mutineers. Nine of the Malaita's passengers, most of them women, are confined to their cabins, prostrated from shock, and it is understood that several more have asked to be landed at Cherbourg this afternoon.
A wireless request to the Inchcliffe Castle for details of the drama brought only a brusque denial from Captain John Ball that any trouble had occurred. A similar hostile reticence was maintained at the London offices of the Inchcliffe Castle's owners.
Asked to confirm rumors, current in the City yesterday, that the White Crown Line was combining with Clifford, Castle & Co., Ltd., Lord Forthdale issued an emphatic denial. "Although such a step was at one time contemplated," he said, "the incidents on the Inchcliffe Castle today definitely preclude its consummation. For over seventy years, order and discipline have been the very foundation stones of the White Crown Line. Our reputation and traditions are too precious to jeopardize."
THE YOGI OF WEST NINTH STREET
I
Early one evening last spring, Mr. Colin Glencannon was strolling through West Ninth Street, in New York, when he happened upon an establishment called The Occult and Astrological Bookshop. Now, an occult and astrological bookshop was by no means the sort of establishment Mr. Glencannon had been hoping to happen upon, but a volume on a sidewalk table caught his eye. It was The Secrets of Hindu Yoga Breath Control, and the title attracted him for two reasons. The first was that the S.S. Inchcliffe Castle, of which he was chief engineer, would shortly be sailing for India and other lands of the mystic East, while the second, and more important, was his own lifelong study of the breath-control problem.
In the course of exhaustive experiments conducted on shipboard and in barrooms of the seaports of the world, Mr. Glencannon had endeavored to control his breath with cloves, coffee beans, lemon peel, cinnamon bark, peppermint lozenges, toothpaste and, on one occasion, the contents of a fire extinguisher, but all to no avail; hence, he welcomed this opportunity to learn what, in their wisdom, the Hindu yogis had been able to do about it.
The book was on a table, marked FIFTY CENTS, so, scanning the sky and estimating a good twenty minutes of daylight, Mr. Glencannon picked it up and went browsing through its pages. The illustrations were photographs of scrawny colored gentlemen in breech-clouts, some of whom were squatting cross-legged staring into space, while others gazed down at their own navels with the intense concentration of cats watching rat holes. Mr. Glencannon found these pictures perplexing; indeed, unless the pensive blackamoors were bartenders, which they didn't appear to be, he could not imagine them enjoying any considerable eminence as breath-control practitioners.
"Ah, swith!" he muttered. "I can see that this tome merits lang and deeligent study!"
He turned back to the beginning and soon became so engrossed that he was scarcely more than nine-tenths aware of straying along to a table with a placard, SPECIAL AT TWENTY-FIVE CENTS. Here he halted; but observing through the shop window that the bookseller, a flat-heeled lady with a batik blouse and gold hoop earrings, was busy waiting on a customer, he stepped politely aside so as not to obstruct their light. This brought him squarely before a table of TEN CENT SACRIFICE BARGAINS, beyond the window's range. Now, under the circumstances, it is possible that a less conscientious person would have been tempted to slip the book in amongst the bargains, summon the proprietress and close the deal for a dime, but Mr. Glencannon reflected that this might fatally interrupt the more important transaction in progress within, so he tucked the volume under his arm, dodged around the corner and continued on his stroll.
"Noo, let's see, let's see," he meditated. "Before I can test the efficacy o' the Hindu methods o' controlling the breath, I must feerst acquire a guid, sturdy breath to control. In fact, it says here—er—'As a preliminurra to the breathing exercises which are the basis of hatha yoga, the student should thoroughly soturate himself with the vital fluid known to the yogis as Prana.' Prana? H'm—weel, I dinna remember e'er drinking any Prana, but I ken another brond that'll no doot sairve. If I—Ach!"
A horny hand gripped him by the throat and another snatched the book. "Ho, ye thief!" snarled a voice behind him. "I've caught ye with the goods!" Half choked and generally at a disadvantage, Mr. Glencannon was still able to slip his fingers through the knuckleduster in his starboard coat pocket. He was about to attempt a fancy but very sporting backhand shot at the chin which he could just see over his right shoulder, when, "Colin!" the voice exclaimed and the stranglehold relaxed. "Weel, weel, weel, ye whuskery auld walrus! Foncy meeting you—here in New York!"
Mr. Glencannon wheeled and considered his late assailant with surprise and disfavor. "MacCrummon!" he gulped, adjusting his crumpled necktie and his sprained celluloid collar. "Weel, fronkly, I—I canna say that I foncy meeting ye at all! Why, what do ye mean, kicking up such a fuss in public? Do ye want to get me arrested, or what?"
"I did till I reecognized ye," Mr. MacCrummon chuckled. "But noo, if ye really want that book, keep it, Colin! Keep it with my cumpliments!"
Yere—cumpliments?" repeated Mr. Glencannon, amazed. "Why, David! D'ye mean to say ye—ye actually own yon bookshop?"
A frown clouded Mr. MacCrummon's brow. "Weel, yes and no," he said. "But look, Colin, let's step into this pub, where we can talk. If there e'er was a mon who needed a friend's advice, ye see him stonding before ye!" He seized the other's arm and led him through the swinging doors of the saloon.
"Noo wait!" said Mr. Glencannon. "Ye've just used a vurra sacred word, 'friend,' and I hope ye didna utter it in vain. For ye must admit that in the past ye've done me more than one shobby turn, my dear Muster David MacCrummon!''
"Oh, I have, have I? And what aboot all the fulthy swundles ye've worked on me?" demanded Mr. MacCrummon hotly; then, controlling his indignation, "Come, come, forget it!" he pleaded. "I've osked ye to have a drink, Colin, auld mon!"
"And I've lang since accepted," said Mr. Glencannon, settling down on the wall bench at a corner table. "I only wanted to mak' sure we understood each other, that was all. Er—mine," he addressed the barman—"mine'll be a brimming beaker o' Prana, but if, as I hope, ye haven't got any o' that, bring me a dooble Duggan's Dew o' Kirkintilloch."
"Fetch a full bottle while ye're aboot it," ordered Mr. MacCrummon gruffly. "Ah, losh, Colin! Teeling ye my story is going to be a lang, parching job!"
"Aye? But speaking o' jobs, David, am I to understond from seeing ye here that ye've lost yere splendid berth as assistant junior theerd fourth engineer o' the palatial S.S. Malaita, o' the White Crown Line?"
"Oh, no, they tronsferred me to a better one," said Mr. MacCrummon, with a sigh. "Noo, I'm junior seecond o' the Cariba, running back and forth betwixt New York and Bermuda. It's a soft job, a pleasant job, a lovely job—but I dinna dare chuck it up, and there's the whole dom trouble!"
"Eh?" said Mr. Glencannon incredulously. "Ye dinna dare chuck it up? But why shud ye wish to chuck it up? Come, dinna be so cryptic, MacCrummon, nor yet so consairvatif with yon whusky. Pour oot yere troubles, but dinna stop there!"
"A-weel," said Mr. MacCrummon, heeding the admonition, "I ken it's no secret to ye, Glencannon, that my travels up and doon the world have included—er—several trips to the altar."
"Indeed," nodded Mr. Glencannon, "I knew ye'd married consistently until ye got to be a trigamist, and after that I stopped counting because I cudna think o' the name for it."
"M'm—weel, suffice it to say I kept richt on going," said Mr. MacCrummon. "It was my hobby, d'ye see, the same as some chaps collect spoons from hotels. I married my way clear aroond the globe, skipping only the darker neeger countries and places where they fry hoptoads in garlic. But mak' no mistake, auld mon; please dinna tak' me for a cad and a rotter! I married each and every one o' my wives in a strictly legal manner, with everything honorable and aboveboard! Why, to spare them any possible emborrassing cumplications, I e'en wed them under different names!"
"Vurra decent o' ye, David, vurra cheevalrous, I must say," approved Mr. Glencannon, "But noo ye've finally run oot o' names; is that yere trouble?"
"Weel, more or less," assented Mr. MacCrummon glumly. "Ye see, when the owners tronsferred me to this Bermuda run and for the feerst time in my life I had a fixed port to come hame to regularly—weel, I got to thinking how cozy it wud be to have my ain little flat richt here in New York to brawl and carouse in betwixt trips. But as soon as I'd rented one, I realized I ocht to have a wife o' some sort to live there and clean up the mess, so I rushed richt oot and got engaged to a widow."
"And ye were stumped to think up a name?"
"I was forced to use my ain!" groaned Mr. MacCrummon. "Ye see, this lady owns a vurra prusperous laundry doon on Front Street, and lik' a dom fool, I took her some shirts that the laundry on the ship had stenciled D. MACCRUMMON, WHITE CROWN S.S. Co., clear across the tails of, in letters an inch high. In fact"—he looked away sheepishly—"one fine day she sent my clean shirts hame with garlands o' forget-me-nots embroidered aroond the letters, and that's how the romance started."
"A vurra dainty sentiment!" declared Mr. Glencannon. "But, aloss! Noo that she knows yere name and address, she'll surely have ye up for breeks o' promise if ye dinna go through wi' it! However, David—er—somehow, I'd gathered that yere ladylove owned that bookshop, no' a laundry."
"Oh, she's the other one I'm wooing—aye, and the one I'll marry, if I can only ditch the laundress!" Mr. MacCrummon explained. "Ye see, the vurra trip after I got engaged, the bookshop lady was assigned to my table in the tourist-closs saloon. A strange, exootic type and full o' fods and foncies, she blethered at the steward every meal because she couldn't get raw oats and spinach roots, though that didn't stop her from scoffing enough beefsteak to choke a Swede. In a wurrd, auld mon, she—she intrigued me! And every nicht on both trips she'd go up on the boat deck to attune her vibrations with cosmos, whate'er the heel that is, taking a bottle o' whusky with her. Noturally, under such saircumstonces, I went alang too."
"And noturally another romance started—eh, Mac, ye sly dog?"
"No, not yet it didn't," said Mr. MacCrummon. "How cud it, when I knew nothing o' her finoncial stonding? When I looked her up, here in New York, and found that her silly bookshop was losing money hond ower fist, I was aboot to cast her oot o' my heart fore'er and for aye. But then"—he smiled and breathed a long, ecstatic sigh—"but then, gloncing ower her books aboot astrology and finding some mailing lists she hoppened to have, I suddenly thocht o' a grond, a mognificent, a stuppendous idea! Look!" He produced a typewritten letter and handed it across the table to Mr. Glencannon. "Two thoosand o' these have gone oot already!"
Across the top of the paper was engraved THE NEW YORK OFFICES OF THE INTERNATIONAL COMMITTEE FOR ASTROLOGICAL RESEARCH. The letter read:
Dear Sir: For centuries, many people have believed that the stars exert a dominating influence upon Man. However, scientific opinion has been divided, certain savants maintaining that Astrology is a fake and that the countless instances of success in its application have been due solely to coincidence.
If Astrology is a fake, the whole world ought to know it. But if Astrology is what it purports to be, then, certainly, the whole world should make use of it to achieve HEALTH, WEALTH AND HAPPINESS! How to find out?
The International Committee for Astrological Research, a public-spirited group enlisted from both camps, has found the solution in TESTED HOROSCOPES. Under strict scientific control, we are casting, FREE, the Horoscopes of thousands of individuals all over the world, and then subjecting them to rigid tests. The tests consist in buying, through our foreign offices and AT OUR OWN EXPENSE, fractional tickets in the French and other National Lotteries, the purchases being guided by the Horoscopes which our experts have cast. According to the Astrologers, all tickets so bought should win. According to Astrology's opponents, the percentage of winners will be only that which could be calculated mathematically for tickets bought haphazardly.
Our statistics, covering 100,000 actual tests, will conclusively demonstrate which claim is right. We need only a few thousand more to settle the question. Will you help?
OUR AMAZING OFFER
If you will aid us in our work, our experts will cast your Horoscope, ABSOLUTELY FREE. If its indications are auspicious, we will purchase a fractional ticket in whichever lottery is to be drawn within your favorable dates. If your ticket WINS, we will send you a FULL HALF SHARE of the winnings. This may run into HUNDREDS OF DOLLARS. YOU RISK NOTHING! The half share retained by us will be used toward defraying the considerable expenses of this test.
We are not selling anything, because we have nothing to sell. YOU SEND NO MONEY and therefore you take no risks. All we ask is that you mail us a postcard with your name, address, date and, if possible, hour of your birth. You will be rendering a service to science, you cannot lose, and YOU MAY WIN HUNDREDS OF DOLLARS! The sooner you act, the sooner you'll know!
"A-weel," said Mr. Glencannon, "if I didna know ye, MacCrummon, if I didna realize it was a swundle o' some sort, I'd say ye'd gone crazy. Why, ye dinna osk them fir a single, soliturra penny! And surely, David, ye dinna mean to say that ye octually send money to them?"
"O' course I do. There's the whole trick!" Mr. MacCrummon winked. "I sent oot ower a hoonderd two-dollar bills last time, and our next mailing will run to ower four hoonderd dollars! Ye see, my—er—fioncee is a hondwriting expert as weel as an astrologer, so we only send the two dollars to correspondents whose scrawl shows they're more than average daft. They receive the money in our Letter Number Two, Here."
This letter read:
Dear Sir: Enclosed, please find $2.00, your share in a winning French National Lottery Ticket. This ticket was bought according to your Horoscope, cast by our experts from the personal data you so kindly furnished, and PROVED by this actual test. YOUR PROVED HOROSCOPE clearly indicates that you are a person "favored by the stars." If you will only follow their guidance, Happiness, Fame and Fortune await you! Your cooperation has aided us in proving beyond question that Astrology is a science to guide YOU to RICHES, and the Committee takes this opportunity of thanking you for your help.
Mr. Glencannon squinted his eyes and nodded his head. "H'm!" he murmured. "Hum-m-m! Noo I'm beginning to get the hong o' it! Ye send them the two dollars, but ye dinna send them the lucky horoscopes!"
"Exockly!" agreed Mr. MacCrummon. "And ye'd be surprised how many o' them gullup doon the bait! Why, it tontalizes them, drives them mod—aye, raving mod with greed! They feel they must get hold o' that horoscope—not any auld horoscope, but the vurra same horoscope which won them the two dollars, so they can use it to mak' mullions! But—haw, haw!—but when they write in to osk for it, we send them this Letter Number Three."
It read:
Dear Sir: As our previous letters have made clear, The International Committee for Astrological Research is in no sense a profit-making institution, nor did we originally intend to distribute the Horoscopes used in our experiments. However, several people besides yourself have asked for their Horoscopes, so we have arranged to make copies of the originals now in our archives. If you will send us $5.00 to help cover costs, your TESTED, PROVED Horoscope will be forwarded by return mail. As you have already received $2.00 cash, you will realize that the price is purely nominal.
"Ah!" said Mr. Glencannon. "And how many o' them send in their five dollars?"
"A-weel," chuckled Mr. MacCrummon, "for the one hoonderd two-dollar bills I sent oot last time, I got eighty five-dollar bills in return. In other wurrds, an eighty percent response gave me a hoonderd percent profit. For the four hoonderd dollars I'm mailing oot this time, I expect to get back eight hoonderd at the vurra least."
