Williams came up on deck late that afternoon, with a scared face,
and announced that Mr. Turner had locked himself in his cabin, and
was raving in delirium on the other side of the door. I sent Burns
down having decided, in view of Mrs. Johns's accusation, to keep
away from the living quarters of the family. Burns's report
corroborated what Williams had said. Turner was in the grip of
delirium tremens, and the Ella was without owner or officers.
Turner refused to open either door for us. As well as we could make
out, he was moving rapidly but almost noiselessly up and down the
room, muttering to himself, now and then throwing himself on the bed,
only to get up at once. He rang his bell a dozen times, and summoned
Williams, only, in reply to the butler's palpitating knock, to stand
beyond the door and refuse to open it or to voice any request. The
situation became so urgent that finally I was forced to go down,
with no better success.
Mrs. Turner dragged herself across, on the state of affairs being
reported to her, and, after two or three abortive attempts, succeeded
in getting a reply from him.
"Marsh!" she called. "I want to talk to you. Let me in."
"They'll get us," he said craftily.
"Us? Who is with you?"
"Vail," he replied promptly. "He's here talking. He won't let me
sleep."
"Tell him to give you the key and you will keep it for him so no
one can get him," I prompted. I had had some experience with such
cases in the hospital.
She tried it without any particular hope, but it succeeded
immediately. He pushed the key out under the door, and almost at
once we heard him throw himself on the bed, as if satisfied that
the problem of his security was solved.
Mrs. Turner held the key out to me, but I would not take it.
"Give it to Williams," I said. "You must understand, Mrs. Turner,
that I cannot take it."
She was a woman of few words, and after a glance at my determined
face she turned to the butler.
"You will have to look after Mr. Turner, Williams. See that he is
comfortable, and try to keep him in bed."
Williams put out a trembling hand, but, before he took the key,
Turner's voice rose petulantly on the other side of the door.
"For God's sake, Wilmer," he cried plaintively, "get out and let
me sleep I haven't slept for a month."
Williams gave a whoop of fear, and ran out of the cabin, crying
that the ship was haunted and that Vail had come back. From that
moment, I believe, the after house was the safest spot on the ship.
To my knowledge, no member of the crew so much as passed it on the
starboard side, where Vail's and Turner's cabins were situated. It
was the one good turn the owner of the Ella did us on that hideous
return journey; for, during most of the sixteen days that it took
us to get back, he lay in his cabin, alternating the wild frenzy of
delirium tremens with quieter moments when he glared at us with
crafty, murderous eyes, and picked incessantly at the bandages that
tied him down. Not an instant did he sleep, that we could discover;
and always, day or night, Vail was with him, and they were quarreling.
The four women took care of him as best they could. For a time they
gave him the bromides I prepared, taking my medical knowledge without
question. In the horror of the situation, curiosity had no place,
and class distinctions were forgotten. That great leveler, a common
trouble, put Henrietta Sloane, the stewardess, and the women of the
party at the same table in the after house, where none ate, and
placed the responsibility for the ship, although, I was nominally
in command, on the shoulders of all the men. And there sprang up
among them a sort of esprit de corps, curious under the circumstances,
and partly explained, perhaps, by the belief that in imprisoning
Singleton they had the murderer safely in hand. What they thought
of Turner's possible connection with the crime, I do not know.