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Updated: June 13, 2025
To-night I am the last leaf. 'All his lovely companions are faded and gone, the sprightly Solomon, the psychic Nigger, the amiable Thrackles, the cheerful Perdosa, the genial Pulz, and the high-minded Eagen. Undoubtedly the social atmosphere has cleared; moreover, I am for the first time in my life a landed proprietor.
By the usual incongruity a fragment of The Marble Faun was included in the collection. The Nigger has his copy of Duvall on Alchemy. I haven't the slightest idea where he could have got it. While Pulz read, Handy Solomon worked on the alteration of his claw. He could never get it to hold, and I remember as an undertone to Pulz's reading, the rumble of strange, exasperated oaths.
Only Handy Solomon clung desperately to the wheel, jamming his weight to port in the hope she might pay up: Thrackles, too, his eye squinted along some bearing of his own, was waiting for her to drag. Presently it became evident that she was doing so, whereupon he drew his knife across our hawser. "My God," chattered Pulz at my ear. "If we go ashore " He did not need to finish.
Eager for any chance I hissed under my breath; "Danger! Look out!" I could not tell whether or not Darrow heard me. He left soon after. The mention of the chest had focussed the men's interest. "Well," Pulz began, "we've been here on this spot o' hell for a long time." "A year and five months," reckoned Thrackles. "A man can do a lot in that time." "If he's busy." "They've been busy." "Yes."
"To-morrow's jes' 's good," muttered Pulz. "Les' hav' 'nother drink." "We'll stay here 'n see if our ol' frien' Percy don' show up," said Handy Solomon. He threw back his head and roared forth a volume of sound toward the dim stars. "Broadside to broadside the gallant ships did lay, Blow high, blow low! What care we?
Forward was a rusted-out donkey engine, which we took to pieces and put together again. It was no mean job, for all the running parts had to be cleaned smooth, and with the exception of a rudimentary knowledge on the part of Pulz and Perdosa, we were ignorant. In fact we should not have succeeded at all had it not been for Percy Darrow and his lantern.
But the crew was rich in certain qualities, it seems, which I failed, stupidly, to recognise in my acquaintance with them. Both Pulz and Perdosa appear to have been handy men where locks were concerned. First Pulz sneaks down and has his turn at the chest. He gets it open. Small profit for him in that: the next we know of him he is scandalising Handy Solomon by having a fit on the deck."
I slipped nearer the door, imagining that in their riveted interest I saw my opportunity. To my surprise I caught a glimpse of legs disappearing up the companion. I took stock. Pulz had gone on deck.
I had no time to analyse these various impressions, however, for my attention was almost instantly distracted. From the cabin came the sound of a sharp fall, then a man cried out, and on the heels of it Pulz darted from the cabin, screaming horribly. We were all on deck, and as the little man rushed toward the stern Handy Solomon twisted him deftly from his feet.
"Are you the only survivor?" he inquired. "Except yourself." "The Nigger? Pulz? Thrackles? The captain? All drowned?" "Not the captain. They murdered him." "Ah," said Darrow softly. "And you I beg your pardon your er friends disposed of the doctor in the same way?" "Handy Solomon," replied Slade with shaking lips. "Hell's got that fiend, if there's a hell for human fiends.
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