Evening Star Newspaper, October 18, 1931, Page 90

THE SUNDAY STAR, WASHINGTON, D. C., OCTOBER 18 BLLACK PEARL i LA PAZ The Story of an 11l- Fated Gem That Solved the Mystery of Its Own Disappearance. By Charles G. Booth ENOR MORALES, the Mexican, had spoken of the black pearl first. “You've seen it?” Ben Hatch, the cameraman, whipped out. His thin face was aflame with the insatiable curiosity of his type. The Mexican nodded. “But I cannot de- scribe it—that lovely notoricus pearl!” he went on in his sonorous tones to the group assembled in the waist of the Bella D. “The luster of it! The rich blackness of it! There is some- thing ¢f humin wickedness in its sleek heart. “The Indians got it out of their pearling waters in the Gulf. After that—the Spaniards, and its trail of blood and crime was begun. Presently, it reached Europe and finally the tides of revolution swept it into the channels of commerce. And by this time its history was as black as its lustrcus skin. Ah, that pearl, Senors! It could tell you a tale. Well, it crossed the Atlantic sgain and by the irony of chance appeared in the Mexican pearling port of La Paz, not 30 miles from the place of its birth. An extraordinary pearl, that, Senors!” “I'd give a month’s pay for a squint of it!" Ben Hatch exclaimed with quick interest. Morales idly flicked the gray ash of his cigarette to the breeze. He was one of those dark, enigmatical men who voyage the ocean of life seemingly without occupation, destina- ticn, or place of departure. A curious look now crept into Senor Morale's unreadable, dark- ly-glowing eyes. “Your wish may be granted,” he murmured to Hatch. “It was rumored in La Paz that the pearl had been sold to William Gemmill, of the Gemmill Line, and that Capt. McVee of our ship is to deliver it to his owners in San Francisco. Here he comes now. Ask him.” A murmur of surprise greeted this. ATCH waved his inevitable cigarette at the gaunt-figured master approaching them. “Helle, Cap! Morales here t-!ls us you've got the wicked pearl of La Paz aboard——" The haggard expression of the captain’s shaggy face silenced him. “The black pear! that Morales speaks of was taken oot o’ my safe last night!” he an- nounced in his Scotch burr, Consternation fell upon the group. was silence for a moment. “You mean—stolen!” Creelman, one of the men, exclaimed. McVee took out a ring of keys attached by a chain to the wiistband of his trousers. One of the keys, an old type, massively and cun- ningly fashioned, he held toward his audience. “That's the key!” he said harshly. “It's one o' them old-type lock safes—guid encugh for the Bella D.” A touch of bitterness flecked the speech. “They must ha’ took the ring off the chain while I was sleepin, then put it back again. Easy enough. I lie like a log!” A silence ensued in which every man evaded his neighbor's eyes as if he feared to see guilt therein. Morzles’ gaze swept the length and preadth of the Bella D, most disreputable car- rier ¢f the wealtty Gemmill Line, lingered on her sun-warped woodwork, her rusted metals, those minor indications of decay common to ships and men, and returning, rested upon McVee agein. The master appeared to be one of those in- fexible men who follow a treadmill existence unvaried by relaxation enjoyed or desired with @ rigid faithfulness and a merciless honesty that excite regret rather than admiration. One thought of him as being without emotion, color, or desire for those small adventures which give pest to life. Ben Hatch mechanically lit a cigarette on the stub of his last. “We are mighty sorry, Cap!” he sympathized. “What do you figure on doing?” “What do I figure on doing?” flashed Mc- Vee, and his eyes glinted like bits of steel. *I'm going to comb the Bella D fra keel to masthaid. And with your permission——" his tone implied with or without it—“I'm going to search every mcn, evesy cabin, every scrap o' baggage aboard her. I hate to do it but I'll have to ask ye to put up with it. That pearl §s worth $60,000, if it's worth a penny and, it's ot to be found before we make Frisco, or it'll be the end of Alex McVee.” “That's pretty strong, isn't it?” objected fOreelman. He was & large gross man with a Jneaty countenance, given to immense black $igars and a patronizing manner. . *Aye, it is! But I cana help it! The old Bella D's & tramp, not & passenger, and I eanna stand on ceremony. And what’s more, I'm going to ask two of ye to search my cabin and Mr. Dillon’s, the mate’s.” _{4BAteT beyond dispute. There R EPN RN Ty e McVee's tone pus the 1931. On the floor lay the master, a tiny stream of red curling from his mouth. The black pearl of La ORALES’' glance had flashed across the twinkling Pacific to the smoky purple line of the Baja California coast. Now he turned to McVee again. “Ycu are right, Senor Captain,” he agreed, with one of his thin smiles. “And the sooner it is done the happier we shall be. Is\it not so?” he queried the group. A doubtful murmur of assent greeted his in- terposition. - “I nominate Hatch and Mcrales to attend to you and the mate, captain,” growled Creel- filkan. “You can take us yourself, then, if you 5 McVee nodded curtly; the others agreed. Hatch and Morales followed McVee to his cabin. They glanced at the old l:ck safe curiously. Manifestly, it had served the Gemmill Co. as faithfully as had the Bella D and her master. “They wouldna give me another!” McVee said harshly. He stood grimly by as they searched the cabin, insisting on the meticulous inspection of every nook and cranny within it. Then he had them go through his spare garments and over his person. They found nothing, of course. In the mate's cabin the result was precisely the same. McVee turned to Dillon, the first mate, an alert, brown-faced young man of athletic build who had watched this desecration of his per- sonal belongings with relentless countenance. “Mr. Dillon,” he rasped, “ye’ll carry out my instructions to the letter! I'll attend to the passengers myself.” The mate nodded and went on deck. McVee stopped the Mexican with a gesture. “A word with ye, Mister Morales!” he rapped out. The Mexican eyed him coolly. Captain?” “How did ye come by the information that I had the black pearl aboard the Bella D?" Morales shrugged his shoulders. “It was rumored in La Paz,” he returned lightly. “Who are ye, Mister Morales?” McVee went on, in & menacing tone. “Ane where are ye going?” The Mexican laughed dryly. “A person of no importance, Captain, en route to Senor Hatch's hospitable country.” That evening, in the thickening dusk, Hatch and Dillon, the mate, stood at the starboard rail. A thin gray fog trailed its flimsy dra- peries around them, dissolved the definite out- lines of their bodies, haloed the ship's lights in a twinkling misty glow. “Not so much as a peep at it, Ben!” Dillon was saying in disappointed tones. “We combed every inch of her. Everything, everywhere! The crew, too. You fellows are awfully decent.” “Might as well be,” returned Hatch philo- sophically. “What does McVee say?” “He's all broke up- about it! Never saw him that way before. It seems to have got in- side of him. It'll go hard with him, too. He's not any too safe with the owners.” “What'’s wrong?"” Dillon’s face sombered. “I don't know, really. It may be temperament, to some ex- tent. McVee always had his oddities. I've known him as long as I've known you and he’s as big a mystery to me as ever he was. He just stared and stared when I reported our fail- ure. Then he said, in his harsh voice: ‘You'll go over her again tomorrow, Mr. Dillon.” And that seems to be that.” “Yes, Senor Paz had crimsoned uts record again, Hatch smoked in silence. “I'd bet a month’s pay I could put my hands on the man that took the pearl,” he said, finally. “But I can't prove it.” “You mean—-" ATCH lit a cigarette. “Let's weed out the lambs first. Besides the crew, there's Dale, the newspaper man, and those two Frisco drummets, “They seem innocent enough.” “Creelman.” “Loud-mouthed, but the old man knows him, I think.” “Ellis and Foster, those two engineers from Chili.” “First-class reputations.” “Hardwick, the explorer.” “Oh, pass him. He a celebrity.” “The notorious Mr. Hatch?” Dillon grinned. “Forget it! “Morales!” “My bet, too! All wk know about him is that he came on at L» Paz yesterday. And you say he started the talk about the pearl. He'd been quiet enough up to then.” Hatch nodded. “He's the horse I'm going to back!” “You'll have to keep your eyes skinned, Ben. Morales is a deep one!” Dillon warned him. The next morning Ben Hatch resumed his unobstrusive scrutiny of the enigmatical Senor Morales. In every possible situation he ob- served the man: at breakfast, at lunch, at dinner; playing deck quoits with Creelman and Dale, chatting at the rail with Creelman, prom- enading the deck with Creelman; entering and leaving the various companionways; sardoni- cally watching the unceasing efforts of Dillon and his men to discover the pearl. During the day Hatch saw McVee contin- ually. The altered appearance of the master shocked him, accustomed as he was to the raw- ness of life. The adamantine surface of the man seeTed in some strange process of collapse. He appeared less flexible, less grim-souled. as Dillon had put it. There was something potent, sinister, in the transformation, too, that fasci- nated the imaginative Hatch. It was much as if he were watching some repressed trait of character asserting itself and remolding the man’s personality. Hatch recalled what Dillon had said concern- ing McVee's standing with his owners, and he began to wonder if the theft of the notorious pearl had not a deeper significance than they suspected. He frowned and shook his head. An atmosphere of disquietude hovered above the tramp, gathered as the day advanced, as clouds gather in a sultry sky. The happy geniality of steamship travel vanished. In its place there came a coldness which even the brilliant sunshine of those turquoise waters could not dispel. That evening Hatch joined Dillon in the latter’s cabin. “No luck, eh?” he greeted the young mate. Dillon shook his head grimly. “Nothing! And you?” he demanded, tersely “Same thing!” Hatch had lost a little of his flippancy. Perching on the edge of a table, he swung his short legs beneath him. *“I watched that man as I'd watch my last thin dime!” he declared, lighting a cigargtte. “Didn’t let him out of my sight 10 seconds all day. And not the flicker of an eyelid out of him!” “Do you think we picked the wrong man?” Name the wolf!” Hatch pondered this. “No!” he asseried, positively. “He's got a hand in it somewherel I'd bet my new hat on it!” “Have you seen the old man?” Dillon dee manded. Hatch nodded. “He looks pretty bad.” The mate's face darkened. “Ben!” he rapped out. “We've got to find that pearl! McVee's going through hell about ijt!” “Yes, I know. I saw it in his eyes. Bu§ we'll never find it by just looking for it. It'§ hid in the one place we'll never think of.” Dillon moodily flung open one of the ports, A grayish mist floated into the room, commine gled with the curling smoke from Hatch’s etere nal cigarette. Hatch looked up suddenly. “Fog!” he mute tered. Then a warm glow kindled in his thiny vivid face. “Bob!” he whispered, tensely, “How far are you game to go?” Dillon looked at him keenly. *“The limit, Ben! What's on your mind?” y “When do you go on watch?” “In half an hour.” “yYou and old Lampblack downstairs are pretty thick, aren’t you?” ° Dillon grinned. “The engineer? He'll do anything for me.” “Well, the only way you'll ever get that pearl is by having the thief show you where it is!™ Hatch bubbled enthusiastically. “Did you evef see Marylin Marquis in ‘The Flame of the Sea'?"” Oh, sure, DILLON looked as if he doubted his friend's sanity. Before he could utter & wordy however, Hatch caught him by the arm. And in his high crackling voice, body aquiver with the potency of his idea, Hatch poured & torrent of speech into Dillon's astounded ears. “Now, laugh your head off!” he finished, and rolled another cigarette with his swift, exper§ - fingers. Wrath and amusement contended in Dillon’s expressive countenance. il “Ben!” he gasped. You certainly are the original Mr. Hatch, from Hollywood! The one and only! If any one else had suggested that at a time like this, I'd have put his head through a port! This is the real thing, on a real ship, not a movie lot, even if the old Bella D is due for the boneyard! Can't you get the difference?” Hatch regarded his friend coolly. “Mayb@ it's not according to Cap Kidd, or Tgm Lipe ton, or whoever wrote the bible of the ses, but it'll get our man and it'll get the pearl! And it's the only way you'll ever get the pearll What's wrong with it? We pulled it off in “The Flame of the Sea,’ made $1,000,000, and had the public howling for more. Won't i work?"” Impressed in spite of himself by Hatch's Ine sistent tragi-comic sincerity, Dillon regarded him thoughtfully for a moment or two. “Ben!"” he rapped out. I'll risk it!” In the cabin of the Bella D a short time later, Ben, Creelman, Morales and Dale sat down at a card table. A But their game had scarcely begun when it ended. The tramp staggered in her limping gait as if a mighty hand had clamped upon hes waist, shuddered from stem to stern, listed vioe lently to starboard. In a flash every man % the saloon was up, clutching at his neighbor, dismay kindling in his countenance. A dd‘ Continued on Tenth Page i