when he liked. That very night he went down to Woodman's Lee, saw
Peter Carey at the hut, quarrelled with him, and killed him with the
harpoon. Then, horrified by what he had done, he fled out of the hut,
dropping the note-book which he had brought with him in order to
question Peter Carey about these different securities. You may have
observed that some of them were marked with ticks, and the
others--the great majority--were not. Those which are ticked have
been traced on the London market; but the others presumably were
still in the possession of Carey, and young Neligan, according to his
own account, was anxious to recover them in order to do the right
thing by his father's creditors. After his flight he did not dare to
approach the hut again for some time; but at last he forced himself
to do so in order to obtain the information which he needed. Surely
that is all simple and obvious?"
Holmes smiled and shook his head.
"It seems to me to have only one drawback, Hopkins, and that is that
it is intrinsically impossible. Have you tried to drive a harpoon
through a body? No? Tut, tut, my dear sir, you must really pay
attention to these details. My friend Watson could tell you that I
spent a whole morning in that exercise. It is no easy matter, and
requires a strong and practised arm. But this blow was delivered with
such violence that the head of the weapon sank deep into the wall. Do
you imagine that this anaemic youth was capable of so frightful an
assault? Is he the man who hobnobbed in rum and water with Black
Peter in the dead of the night? Was it his profile that was seen on
the blind two nights before? No, no, Hopkins; it is another and a
more formidable person for whom we must seek."
The detective's face had grown longer and longer during Holmes's
speech. His hopes and his ambitions were all crumbling about him. But
he would not abandon his position without a struggle.
"You can't deny that Neligan was present that night, Mr. Holmes. The
book will prove that. I fancy that I have evidence enough to satisfy
a jury, even if you are able to pick a hole in it. Besides, Mr.
Holmes, I have laid my hand upon my man. As to this terrible person
of yours, where is he?"
"I rather fancy that he is on the stair," said Holmes, serenely. "I
think, Watson, that you would do well to put that revolver where you
can reach it." He rose, and laid a written paper upon a side-table.
"Now we are ready," said he.
There had been some talking in gruff voices outside, and now Mrs.
Hudson opened the door to say that there were three men inquiring for
Captain Basil.
"Show them in one by one," said Holmes.
The first who entered was a little ribston-pippin of a man, with
ruddy cheeks and fluffy white side-whiskers. Holmes had drawn a
letter from his pocket.
"What name?" he asked.
"James Lancaster."
"I am sorry, Lancaster, but the berth is full. Here is half a
sovereign for your trouble. Just step into this room and wait there
for a few minutes."
The second man was a long, dried-up creature, with lank hair and
sallow cheeks. His name was Hugh Pattins. He also received his
dismissal, his half-sovereign, and the order to wait.
The third applicant was a man of remarkable appearance. A fierce
bull-dog face was framed in a tangle of hair and beard, and two bold
dark eyes gleamed behind the cover of thick, tufted, overhung
eyebrows. He saluted and stood sailor-fashion, turning his cap round
in his hands.
"Your name?" asked Holmes.
"Patrick Cairns."
"Harpooner?"
"Yes, sir. Twenty-six voyages."
"Dundee, I suppose?"
"Yes, sir."
"And ready to start with an exploring ship?"
"Yes, sir."
"What wages?"
"Eight pounds a month."
"Could you start at once?"
"As soon as I get my kit."
"Have you your papers?"
"Yes, sir." He took a sheaf of worn and greasy forms from his pocket.
Holmes glanced over them and returned them.
"You are just the man I want," said he. "Here's the agreement on the
side-table. If you sign it the whole matter will be settled."
The seaman lurched across the room and took up the pen.
"Shall I sign here?" he asked, stooping over the table.
Holmes leaned over his shoulder and passed both hands over his neck.
"This will do," said he.
I heard a click of steel and a bellow like an enraged bull. The next
instant Holmes and the seaman were rolling on the ground together. He
was a man of such gigantic strength that, even with the handcuffs
which Holmes had so deftly fastened upon his wrists, he would have
very quickly overpowered my friend had Hopkins and I not rushed to
his rescue. Only when I pressed the cold muzzle of the revolver to
his temple did he at last understand that resistance was vain. We
lashed his ankles with cord and rose breathless from the struggle.
"I must really apologize, Hopkins," said Sherlock Holmes; "I fear
that the scrambled eggs are cold. However, you will enjoy the rest of
your breakfast all the better, will you not, for the thought that you
have brought your case to a triumphant conclusion."
Stanley Hopkins was speechless with amazement.
"I don't know what to say, Mr. Holmes," he blurted out at last, with
a very red face. "It seems to me that I have been making a fool of
myself from the beginning. I understand now, what I should never have
forgotten, that I am the pupil and you are the master. Even now I see
what you have done, but I don't know how you did it, or what it
signifies."
"Well, well," said Holmes, good-humouredly. "We all learn by
experience, and your lesson this time is that you should never lose
sight of the alternative. You were so absorbed in young Neligan that
you could not spare a thought to Patrick Cairns, the true murderer of
Peter Carey."
The hoarse voice of the seaman broke in on our conversation.
"See here, mister," said he, "I make no complaint of being
man-handled in this fashion, but I would have you call things by
their right names. You say I murdered Peter Carey; I say I killed
Peter Carey, and there's all the difference. Maybe you don't believe
what I say. Maybe you think I am just slinging you a yarn."
"Not at all," said Holmes. "Let us hear what you have to say."
"It's soon told, and, by the Lord, every word of it is truth. I knew
Black Peter, and when he pulled out his knife I whipped a harpoon
through him sharp, for I knew that it was him or me. That's how he
died. You can call it murder. Anyhow, I'd as soon die with a rope
round my neck as with Black Peter's knife in my heart."
"How came you there?" asked Holmes.
"I'll tell it you from the beginning. Just sit me up a little so as I
can speak easy. It was in '83 that it happened--August of that year.
Peter Carey was master of the Sea Unicorn, and I was spare harpooner.
We were coming out of the ice-pack on our way home, with head winds
and a week's southerly gale, when we picked up a little craft that
had been blown north. There was one man on her--a landsman. The crew
had thought she would founder, and had made for the Norwegian coast
in the dinghy. I guess they were all drowned. Well, we took him on
board, this man, and he and the skipper had some long talks in the
cabin. All the baggage we took off with him was one tin box. So far
as I know, the man's name was never mentioned, and on the second
night he disappeared as if he had never been. It was given out that
he had either thrown himself overboard or fallen overboard in the
heavy weather that we were having. Only one man knew what had
happened to him, and that was me, for with my own eyes I saw the
skipper tip up his heels and put him over the rail in the middle
watch of a dark night, two days before we sighted the Shetland
lights.
"Well, I kept my knowledge to myself and waited to see what would
come of it. When we got back to Scotland it was easily hushed up, and
nobody asked any questions. A stranger died by an accident, and it
was nobody's business to inquire. Shortly after Peter Carey gave up
the sea, and it was long years before I could find where he was. I
guessed that he had done the deed for the sake of what was in that
tin box, and that he could afford now to pay me well for keeping my
mouth shut.
"I found out where he was through a sailor man that had met him in
London, and down I went to squeeze him. The first night he was
reasonable enough, and was ready to give me what would make me free
of the sea for life. We were to fix it all two nights later. When I
came I found him three parts drunk and in a vile temper. We sat down
and we drank and we yarned about old times, but the more he drank the
less I liked the look on his face. I spotted that harpoon upon the
wall, and I thought I might need it before I was through. Then at
last he broke out at me, spitting and cursing, with murder in his
eyes and a great clasp-knife in his hand. He had not time to get it
from the sheath before I had the harpoon through him. Heavens! what a
yell he gave; and his face gets between me and my sleep! I stood
there, with his blood splashing round me, and I waited for a bit; but
all was quiet, so I took heart once more. I looked round, and there
was the tin box on a shelf. I had as much right to it as Peter Carey,
anyhow, so I took it with me and left the hut. Like a fool I left my
baccy-pouch upon the table.
"Now I'll tell you the queerest part of the whole story. I had hardly
got outside the hut when I heard someone coming, and I hid among the
bushes. A man came slinking along, went into the hut, gave a cry as
if he had seen a ghost, and legged it as hard as he could run until
he was out of sight. Who he was or what he wanted is more than I can
tell. For my part I walked ten miles, got a train at Tunbridge Wells,
and so reached London, and no one the wiser.
"Well, when I came to examine the box I found there was no money in
it, and nothing but papers that I would not dare to sell. I had lost
my hold on Black Peter, and was stranded in London without a
shilling. There was only my trade left. I saw these advertisements
about harpooners and high wages, so I went to the shipping agents,
and they sent me here. That's all I know, and I say again that if I
killed Black Peter the law should give me thanks, for I saved them
the price of a hempen rope."
"A very clear statement," said Holmes, rising and lighting his pipe.
"I think, Hopkins, that you should lose no time in conveying your
prisoner to a place of safety. This room is not well adapted for a
cell, and Mr. Patrick Cairns occupies too large a proportion of our
carpet."
"Mr. Holmes," said Hopkins, "I do not know how to express my
gratitude. Even now I do not understand how you attained this
result."
"Simply by having the good fortune to get the right clue from the
beginning. It is very possible if I had known about this note-book it
might have led away my thoughts, as it did yours. But all I heard
pointed in the one direction. The amazing strength, the skill in the
use of the harpoon, the rum and water, the seal-skin tobacco-pouch,
with the coarse tobacco--all these pointed to a seaman, and one who
had been a whaler. I was convinced that the initials 'P.C.' upon the
pouch were a coincidence, and not those of Peter Carey, since he
seldom smoked, and no pipe was found in his cabin. You remember that
I asked whether whisky and brandy were in the cabin. You said they
were. How many landsmen are there who would drink rum when they could
get these other spirits? Yes, I was certain it was a seaman."
"And how did you find him?"
"My dear sir, the problem had become a very simple one. If it were a
seaman, it could only be a seaman who had been with him on the Sea
Unicorn. So far as I could learn he had sailed in no other ship. I
spent three days in wiring to Dundee, and at the end of that time I
had ascertained the names of the crew of the Sea Unicorn in 1883.
When I found Patrick Cairns among the harpooners my research was
nearing its end. I argued that the man was probably in London, and
that he would desire to leave the country for a time. I therefore
spent some days in the East-end, devised an Arctic expedition, put
forth tempting terms for harpooners who would serve under Captain
Basil--and behold the result!"
"Wonderful!" cried Hopkins. "Wonderful!"
"You must obtain the release of young Neligan as soon as possible,"
said Holmes. "I confess that I think you owe him some apology. The
tin box must be returned to him, but, of course, the securities which
Peter Carey has sold are lost for ever. There's the cab, Hopkins, and
