South Sea Steel: Race Williams #12 (Black Mask)

By Carroll John Daly

Race Williams is in Honolulu for a little R&R. Whether it be the eloquent “waxing” of a fat and florid businessman or the devil-may-care attitude of Williams, the Confidential Agent purchases a ticket to go traipsing around the Pacific on a little trader that beat its way from island to island. Before he can get aboard and enjoy his vacation, Williams finds himself rescuing a fleeing woman from the knife’s edge, putting her attacker down easily. Yet, before Race can turn and ask if she’s okay, the dame disappears. With no dog in this fight, Williams runs from the scene, too, leaving the bleeding man to fend for himself. How bad could things get for a man who was looking for rest and seclusion? Story #12 in the Race Williams series.

Carroll John Daly (1889–1958) was the creator of the first hard-boiled private eye story, predating Dashiell Hammett's first Continental Op story by several months. Daly's classic character, Race Williams, was one of the most popular fiction characters of the pulps, and the direct inspiration for Mickey Spillane's Mike Hammer.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Black Mask
• Release date: Nov 12, 2017
• ISBN: 9788827516126

Book preview

South Sea Steel

Race Williams book #12

A Black Mask Classic

by

Carroll John Daly

Black Mask

Copyright Information

© 2017 Steeger Properties, LLC. Published by arrangement with Steeger Properties, LLC, agent for the Estate of Carroll John Daly.

Publication History:

South Sea Steel originally appeared in the May 1926 issue of Black Mask magazine.

No part of this book may be reproduced or utilized in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, without permission in writing from the publisher.

Race Williams is a trademark of the Estate of Carroll John Daly. Black Mask is a trademark of Steeger Properties, LLC, and registered with the U.S. Patent and Trademark Office.

South Sea Steel

Chapter 1

He was little and florid and fat and fifty. This was the third time he had picked on me just after dinner. But he knew Honolulu, the Hawaiian Islands, and waxed enthusiastic over the beauties of the distant islands of the South Seas. Although you wouldn’t connect romance with his hanging jowls and bulging eyes, he got his stuff over like a real estate agent.

He wanted something, of course. He’d blow up like a Roman candle when he heard the truth. I wasn’t in Honolulu on business; simply pleasure. Had he found out who I was? Not from the register of the hotel—I didn’t sign my full name. R. Williams, Esq., was how I was traveling. Few would connect that up with Race Williams, Confidential Agent, way down here in Hawaii.

But he could talk on the beauties of those islands of the South Seas. I got to admit that I had it in my mind to visit them, but it would take time and money—and while I had plenty of time, there wasn’t the money to hire a yacht and do the thing right.

He leaned over the table, and the truth came out. The little runt had decided to do the South Seas for about the sixth time. Not in a palatial vessel, but in a little trader that beat its way from island to island. Some trip it was, but you didn’t have to do it all. There was the opportunity to meet one of the mail steamers in a couple of months and get carted back to Honolulu.

It’s like this, Mr. Williams. He finished with a sad look in his bulging eyes. I’ve had business reverses—simply got to get back to Chicago. I can’t make this trip—and I don’t like to lose the money. Everything’s paid for. It’s a small schooner and a comfortable one. I’ll sell you my passage cheap. Captain Verplanck wouldn’t take anyone else. You’ll be all alone and you’ll get rest and seclusion. What do you say?

I looked straight at him and started to say No. Then—why not? I was well out in the Pacific; there was nothing on my mind. Such an opportunity might not come again.

We’ll have a look at this captain, I finally told him, and if I can stand him, and his ship isn’t the size of a rowboat, I’ll take this trip around your damned South Sea Islands. That’s just the way I felt about it. I wanted a rest. This would force it on me. I’d never been to the South Seas, and I’ve always said that when I get shoved into the earth I’ll have trod every foot of it. So the little stranger and myself shot off toward the water front.

I don’t know what they call them in Honolulu; in good old New York they call them speak-easies or blind tigers. This place smelt as if the tiger was already dead as well as blind. The Captain sat alone at the far end of the little curtained room, smoking a pipe. There was an empty glass before him, but he never made a holler as the little stranger and myself sat down across from him. He just nodded when I was introduced—then he spoke, his head bent down toward the table, but his eyes raised to me. A gray-haired old mariner—nothing hard or coarse in his make-up, unless it was the thick, healthy, tanned skin.

Mr. Williams, he said. You’ll be the passenger? We’ll have dirty weather this time of year.

Dirty weather! The little lad near hit the ceiling. Why, you told me different. Fine weather—glorious weather. I’ve been out before, this time of year.

I’ll grant you that. And there was a slight b-u-r-r to the Captain’s voice. But this is a different year—and I’ve been watching the sea. I don’t like it at all, but it’s business with me; there’s none could find pleasure in it. Then, turning his big, surprised blue eyes on me, he chirped again: You’ll be the passenger?

Not yet. I tried to read what was behind that big blank face. I want to see the ship.

I thought I saw through the dirty weather. The Captain had to support, for a couple of months, a passenger. If there was no passenger—so much the better for the Captain.

But he was willing enough to show me the vessel and the room I was to occupy. I was agreeably surprised. The cabin was clean, the ship of a comfortable size and, although a sailing vessel, equipped with an auxiliary engine—or whatever they call it.

Own the boat, Captain? I shot the question at him.

He straightened suddenly, so that his massive head almost collided with the cabin roof.

I do not, he said stiffly. It belongs to the Company. And he announced the Company as if he had said The Bank of England.

I’m coming with you, Captain, I told him, when we were back again at the table.

If you’ll excuse us— The little stranger cut in as he dragged me to the far end of the room. He sure was anxious to settle things. So I fixed him up with the cash then and there.

I ain’t advised it. Captain Verplanck shook his head. But it’s done now. If you should change your mind—but, he pulled a pencil and pad from his pocket, I’ll be putting your name down in the log book, shipshape-like. It’s handy to have if anything should happen to the ship.

R. Williams, Esq. I smiled over at him. We’ll be fine little playmates, you and me.

I ain’t much company. His chin was drawn down on his chest like a sulky child.

Captain— I turned as I reached the door. I may change my mind and not make the trip. But if I should make it, there’ll be an extra hundred dollars in it for you.

The Captain stood there, one hand upon the table, the other clutching his large, black, discolored pipe. A hand slowly ran up over his face to brush back the matted locks. He was thinking deeply, turning over in his mind my final words. He never moved as the door closed behind him. But I saw his face slowly brightening. Then the door shut it out. It looked like Captain Verplanck was coming to the conclusion that he did want a passenger after all.

Chapter 2

If I had cheered up the spirits of one of the party, I sure had put the dampers on the spirits of the other. My little friend suddenly realized that he had not charged me enough. He wanted that extra hundred I had promised the Captain.

That’ll be full passage you’re paying—almost. He ran along beside me, tugging at my sleeve. It should be mine by rights. The Captain ain’t entitled to it, and— Suddenly straightening and jerking at my arm, Hold on; we’ve passed our street and we’re getting down by the docks again. Not a good place to be this time of night.

Don’t come then. I kept straight on. Here was a chance to lose the little pest. But he thought more of the hundred than he did of his person, for he tagged right along, whining and complaining.

You’ll get held up and they’ll take what you’ve got. I tried to cheer him up. I’ve been down here twice, and each time—

This time it was I who broke off, and we both stopped dead. Somewhere in the darkness—where the myriads of little lights could be seen dotting the water, had come a scream. It came again now—nearer. A long drawn-out shriek of a woman in deadly fear.

The little man stood there—not a movement,