Chapter XI · SEA FIGHT.

Dutch von Holzeman sat beside Jimmie Grant's bed in the hospital at Yuma. "You got a swell chance," he said firmly. "Be thankful you're not sittin' on a damp cloud right now playing a harp. The doctor tells me that if that bullet went a gnat's heel lower you'd have caught it in the lung instead of just above. Be your age, you poor old wreck. You're going to stay right here, and Field Marshal von Holzeman will attend to the knock-off. Me and the Scotland Yard johnnie."

"You forget that I'm your superior officer," Jimmie said, sitting up in bed. "If Jimmie Earpe and I don't come to the party, there ain't goin' to be no party, my Dutch friend."

"German, not Dutch," corrected Von Holzeman, as he always did when any one deliberately mentioned his ancestry. "German is 'von,' Dutch is 'van,' ignorant."

"Excuse me," grinned Jimmie. "Anyway, I'll be there."

"Oh, no, you won't," said a calm voice from the doorway.

The old doctor, who had treated gun wounds in the Southwest long before Jimmie was born, came in the room. "The human body, young feller, can only stand so much; then it goes out of commission. Yours is a strong one and is coming back all right—to get some more, no doubt. But for the next two weeks you will stay right in that bed unless you think you can lick me and all the rest of us."

"I don't," Jimmie mourned. "If I did, I'd have tried her a long time ago."

"Laugh that off, Chames," said Dutch. "Anyway, don't worry, old kid. You had your fun with Kentuck, and we got this Monckton walking right in our parlor."

"Yeah? How are you doin' 'er, Dutch?"

"Two revenue boats, the Bear and the Haddon, will follow 'em up the coast, while a navy flyer spots the Carmen and radios her progress. Wang Li has given Monckton a place to get contact in the mouth of the river. When the Carmen gets in far enough, the navy will close the neck of the bottle; the army, consisting of me and the Scotland Yard man and nine million customhouse hombres, will put out from shore in launches and what not; we'll board her, and once aboard the lugger, the jewels are mine."

"How about the Chinks that Wang Li is sending up as decoy ducks? What happens to them?"

"It'll take some knockin'," replied Dutch, with a grin. "Those two are the hardest-boiled gunmen the Chang Kwang owns. Soon as the yacht gets in the mouth of the river they are going to retire quietly but firmly to some place where they can repel any attack until we get on board."

"Well," Jimmie sighed, as he leaned back against the pillows, "I guess Jimmie number one and Jimmie number two fade from the picture, darn it all. That's what we get for going around playing instead of tending to business. Hop to it, old kid Field Marshal von Holzeman."

The beautiful white yacht nosed her way daintily into the mouth of the river from the open sea, Clark, Monckton, and Mrs. Monckton on the bridge. Captain Davis had been dropped at Mazatlan. The Umpqua River mouth was fairly wide, perhaps half a mile, clear of obstructions, and heavily timbered on both sides.

"We ought to sight Wang Li's launch any minute," said Monckton, and he turned and looked aft along the deck. "The gentlemen high-binders have gone below. Packing up, probably. Better slow down a little, Clark."

Mrs. Monckton, who had turned as Monckton spoke, suddenly laughed, an amused, clear laugh. "Look behind you."

From around the bend in the shore line, not a mile behind them, came the two revenue cutters, crews at the guns.

"My word!" laughed Monckton. "Neatly trapped."

"Take the wheel," said Clark. "I'll go below and get those two yellow crooks. We may have time to—"

"You're going to stay right here, Mr. Clark," said Mrs. Monckton icily. "You need not hunt for the jewels; I have them on me."

Clark laughed and let go the wheel, which Monckton seized, throwing it over to hard-a-port as the Carmen gathered speed.

Clark looked at the fast converging revenue boats, at the launches speeding out from shore, at Monckton at the wheel, and at the lovely, ice-cold woman who stood with a sneer on her exquisite lips, her eyes intent on his, all else forgotten. This was the man who had killed Langdon, swimming wounded in the water, and she forgot all else.

"Give them to me!" Clark commanded, his own eyes as cold as hers, his hand flashing under his arm.

Mrs. Monckton laughed, and in the face of the revenue boats and the crowded launches and the crew of the Carmen, who were now on deck, she straightened her right hand out from the frilly lace cuff and shot Clark between the eyes with a little .25 caliber automatic.

Monckton laughed recklessly.

"Nice work, old girl! Get down! I'm going between them!"

He headed the Carmen straight at the Bear instead, the guns of his killers on deck spitting lead.

The grizzled old captain of the Bear grunted: "Going to ram us? Let him have it!"

The first shell struck the Carmen on the bow, the second hit square amidships as she fell away. The rapid-fire guns swept her deck as mercilessly as her crew had swept men out of life.

A bugle blew "cease firing," and the rat-tat-tat-tat was stilled. The Carmen lay on her side, filling rapidly, her immaculate woodwork splintered and torn.

Men were jumping overboard, to be picked up by the launches. The bridge was practically intact; the gunners of the Bear had seen a woman there and had avoided it. Monckton lay clinging to the wheel, on the bridge, whose slant now was pronounced. Mrs. Monckton, holding to a rail, was beside him.

"Get them off you," he commanded calmly. "Claim that you knew nothing of my—"

"Do you think that I would live to go to prison?" she demanded. "Fight it out, Frank."

McGuire crawled up beside them, his Colt in his hand.

"What now, captain?" he asked, with a grin.

"Whatever you like," answered Monckton, letting go the wheel and getting into a sitting position as he drew his gun.

Climbing over the rail of the bridge from starboard came the Scotland Yard man and Dutch von Holzeman, followed by two of the customhouse men.

Monckton and McGuire fired at them.

A splotch of red came on Dutch's linen coat—the Scotland Yard man fell back, a bullet in his shoulder from McGuire's gun. The customs men fired at the same time as Dutch. Monckton and McGuire slumped to the slanting deck, dead.

Mrs. Monckton fired once at the nearest man, missed, put the little automatic to her mouth—and the yacht went under the calm water.

The small boats backed away to avoid the suction, only the Bear steaming closer. Dutch von Holzeman came up, then the Scotland Yard man, then the customs men, who had jumped as far clear as they could. Monckton's body floated to the surface, and the Scotland Yard man ordered it taken in one of the boats.

A young lieutenant on the Bear suddenly kicked off his shoes, tossed his coat on the deck and took a long dive over the side.

He came up with Mrs. Monckton's body, which he had seen drifting along under water. In spite of the shattering wound in the back of her head, where the bullet had spread coming out, she had the same cold, calm beauty of face. Her blue eves were open and as wintry as ever.

Dutch von Holzeman, who had insisted on being taken to the same hospital, was telling Jimmie Grant and Jimmie Earpe about it. Jimmie Grant was so far advanced now that he was sitting in an invalid chair.

He and Jimmie Earpe listened with envy in their eyes as Dutch rubbed it in by describing every detail of what he termed the sea fight of the century. He wound up by saying:

"The jewels were on her, and after the Scotland Yard man gets out of the hospital he's going home and get made an inspector, I bet you. Boy, howdy, you poor prunes missed a show."

"Yeah?" said Jimmie Grant. "How about the two yellow brothers—did they get away?"

"Well, when me and the Scotland Yard bird was climbing up onto the yacht, we passed them climbing out of a porthole. Old Wang Li had a launch up there on watch for them. Chances are they made it."

"If they didn't, you better go far, far away, boy, and every time you see a Chink for the next million years you get something in your hand, right quick, as Jimmie number one would put it."

"It's catching before hanging," answered Dutch cheerfully. "The D. A. at San Francisco is seeing Wang Li right away. Old Wang is a good sport, and he doesn't want to lose face, not any. If it came out that he had been gypped by a Federal agent, it wouldn't be so good for him. They'd laugh him out of the Chang Kwang."

"Tell you who will scare you," answered Jimmie grimly, "and that is the Bureau of Accounts, when they get your expense account for the last month."

"Now," said Dutch, with a grin, "you said something."

THE END.