IN THE TOILS
It was a month later when Jimmy Wheelock stood leaning on the _Tyee_'s
rail one morning, while she lay alongside a sawmill wharf at Vancouver.
The Siwash deck-hand had left them, and Jimmy, who had done his work,
was very hot and grimy after trimming ballast in the hold. He and
Prescott were waiting for another few loads of it, and expected that the
_Tyee_ would go to sea shortly after they got them. This, however, was
by no means certain, since a surveyor had come on board a few days ago,
and Tom Wheelock, who had been summoned to Merril's office, had not yet
come back.
It was then about eleven o'clock, and the broad Inlet sparkled in a
blaze of sunshine, with a fresh breeze that came off from the black pine
forests crisping it into little splashing ripples. Jimmy was glad of the
chill of it on his dripping face, and as grateful for the respite from
toil with the shovel, as he gazed at the climbing city. It rose with the
dark pines creeping close up to it, ridged with mazy wires and towering
poles, roof above roof, up the low rise, and the air was filled with the
sound of its activity. A train of ponderous freight-cars rolled clanging
along the wharf; a great locomotive with tolling bell was backing more
cars in; and the scream of saws rang stridently through the clatter of
the winches as Empress liner and sound steamer hove their cargo in.
Jimmy Wheelock had, of course, gazed upon a similar scene in other
ports, but there was, he seemed to feel, a difference here.
In this new land the toiler was not bound by iron laws of caste and
custom forever to his toil. The Mountain Province was awakening to a
recognition of its wealth, and there was room in it and to spare for men
with brains as well as men with muscle. There were forests to be
cleared, roads to be built, and mine adits to be driven, and nobody
troubled himself greatly about the antecedents of his hired hand. If the
latter professed himself able to do what was required of him, he was, as
they say in that country, given a show. Jimmy also knew that where all
were ready to attempt the impossible, and toiled as, except in the New
West, man has seldom toiled before, it was the English sailormen,
runagates from their vessels, who had built the most perilous railroad
trestles, and marched with the vanguard when the treasure-seekers pushed
their way into the wilderness of rock and snow. He felt as he listened
to the scream of the saws and the tolling of the locomotive bells that
amid all that feverish activity there must be some scope for him, which
was reassuring, since it was becoming clear that he would have to find
some means of supporting himself and his father before very long.
Then he looked around as Prescott, who touched his arm, pointed to a
trim white cutter which was sliding through the flashing water with an
inclined spire of sail above her and a swath of foam at her lee bow.
"I guess that's Valentine's _Sorata_," he said. "Got the biggest topsail
on her, and she has a deck-plank in. If she'd only her lower canvas,
most men would find her quite a big handful to sail alone. It's when he
rounds up to his mooring the circus will begin."
The _Sorata_ came straight on toward them, close-hauled on the wind,
until they could hear the hissing of the brine that swept a foot deep
along her slanted deck; then there was a banging of canvas, and she
swung as on a pivot, while a bent figure with its back against her
tiller became furiously busy. Slanting sharply, she drove away on the
other tack, and shot in with canvas shaking between a great four-masted
ship and a steamer with white tiers of decks. Then her head-sails
dropped, and she stopped with a big iron buoy which Valentine seized
with his boat-hook close beneath her bowsprit. After that there was a
rattle of chain, and Prescott made a gesture of approval.
"Smart," he said. "I guess there are not many men in this Province who
could have brought her up in that berth without another hand on board."
Valentine appeared to see them, for he waved his hand; but the next
minute Jimmy, who looked around, lost his interest in him, for Tom
Wheelock was coming slowly across the wharf. He walked wearily, with
head bent and dejection expressed in every languid movement. Prescott's
face grew troubled as he glanced at him.
"I guess we're not going to sea to-day," he said. "Your father has more
to carry than he can stand. That--Merril has been putting the screw on
him."
Wheelock dropped somewhat heavily upon the _Tyee_'s deck, and, though
they looked at him questioningly, he said nothing to either of them as
he made his way to the little after-cabin. When he reached it, he sat
down and wiped his forehead before he poured himself out a stiff drink
of whisky; then he made a little, hopeless gesture as he turned to
Jimmy, who stood at the foot of the ladder with Prescott in the scuttle
behind him.
"You'll stop loading that ballast," he said. "I'm fixed this time. I
guess Merril has the ship. Carpenters to come on board to-morrow, and as
far as I can figure, eight hundred dollars won't see them clear. Besides
that, it's a sure thing we'll lose the coast mill contract."
Jimmy said nothing, but he set his lips tight, and Tom Wheelock had
finished his whisky before he looked at him again. His eyes were
half-closed, and he sat huddled and limp, with one hand trembling on his
glass, a broken man.
"Carpenters will be here to-morrow. I guess there's no use stopping
them--I've got to see the thing right out," he said. "Still, you can
tell the boys we don't want that ballast. I feel kind of shaky, and I'm
going to lie down. Not as strong as I used to be, Jimmy, and I haven't
quite got over that thump I got against the rail."
Jimmy made a sign to Prescott and went up the ladder, and when he stood
on deck the grizzled sailorman wondered at the change in him. There was
no geniality in his blue eyes now, and his face was set and grim, for
pity was struggling within him with a vindictive hatred of the man who
had brought his father down. Tom Wheelock, it was evident, had been
brought low in more ways than one.
"If you'll see about that ballast, I'll go straight to Merril's office.
I want this thing made clear," he said.
"Well," advised Prescott, "I'd walk round a few blocks first; you want
to simmer down before you talk to a man like that. Go slow, and get a
round turn on your temper."
Jimmy, who made no answer, swung himself up on the wharf, and it was not
until he had traversed part of the water-front that he remembered it
might have been advisable to change his clothes. He was still clad in
blue jean freely smeared with the red soil that he had been shoveling in
the hold, and his face and hands were grimy and damp with perspiration.
Still, that did not seem to matter greatly, since, after all, it was a
costume quite in accordance with his station. The days when he had worn
a naval uniform had passed.
Striding into an office in a great stone building, he accosted a clerk,
who said that Mr. Merril was busy, and then appeared to grow a trifle
disconcerted under Jimmy's gaze. The latter smiled at him grimly.
"Then it's probably fortunate that I'm not busy at all," he said. "In
fact, I'm quite prepared to stay here until this evening; and since
there seems to be only one door to the place it will perhaps save Mr.
Merril inconvenience if he sees me now. You can explain that to him."
The clerk, who grinned at one of his companions, disappeared, and,
coming back, ushered the insistent visitor into a sumptuously furnished
office; and, when the door closed behind him, Jimmy was a little
astonished to find himself as collected as he had ever been in his
life. He was one of the men who do not quite realize their own
capabilities until driven by necessity into strenuous action. An elderly
gentleman with a pallid and somewhat expressionless face, dressed with a
precision not altogether usual in that country, looked up at him.
"Well?" he said inquiringly.
Jimmy drew forward a chair, and sat down uninvited. "You know my name,"
he said. "I want to understand exactly why you are sending those
carpenters on board the schooner?"
Merril looked at him gravely, but Jimmy did not appear to find his gaze
in any way troublesome.
"I don't think you have anything to do with the matter," he said.
"Still, out of courtesy----"
"No," interrupted Jimmy; "I'm not asking a favor, only anticipating
things a little. It is, I am afraid, quite likely that I shall have to
take over the schooner before very long."
"Then, in accordance with a clause in the agreement, the vessel must be
kept in efficient repair to the satisfaction of a qualified surveyor.
The man I sent down reports that she needs a new mast, decks relaid, and
a good deal of new planking about her water-line. Your father has
particulars."
"I suppose," said Jimmy very quietly, "there would be nothing gained by
asking you to allow the repairs to stand over until we have brought down
one or two more loads of lumber. I expect you know it will cost us the
sawmill contract if we lay the schooner off now?"
Merril made a little gesture. "I'm afraid not. I can't afford to take
the risk of having the schooner lost, to oblige you, and the fact that
you may not carry out the sawmill contract naturally does not concern
me."
"Has it occurred to you that we might question your surveyor's report?
Half the repairs are quite unnecessary, as you no doubt know. Why the
man recommended them is, of course, a question I'm not going into,
though it wouldn't be very difficult to hit on the reason. There are,
however, other men of his profession in this city."
Again Merril looked at him steadily, with a faint, sardonic gleam, which
was more galling than anger, in his eyes. "You will, of course, do what
you consider advisable, but if the repairs are not made I shall apply
for an injunction to stop you from going to sea; and the law is somewhat
costly. The redemption instalment and interest are overdue, and if your
father has any money with him, one would fancy it would be more prudent
for him to settle his obligations than to give it to the lawyers."
Jimmy realized that this was incontrovertible. Unless the arrears were
paid within a fixed time, Merril could foreclose on the vessel and sell
her to somebody acting in concert with him, which was, no doubt, what he
wished to do. There was, it seemed, no wriggling out of his grip; and,
though he felt it would be useless, Jimmy resolved to appeal to his
sense of fairness.
"So far as I can figure, you have been paid in interest and charges
about forty cents on every dollar you lent; and you still hold a bond
for the original amount," he said. "That would be enough to satisfy
most men; and all we ask is a little time and consideration. You could
let those repairs stand over, and could wait a while for your interest.
It will most certainly be paid if we can keep hold of the sawmill
contract."
"I'm afraid you are wasting time;" and Merril glanced at the papers
before him. "There are several reasons which make it necessary for me to
insist on your father's carrying out the conditions of his bond. He owes
me a good deal of money now."
A hard glint crept into Jimmy's blue eyes, and there was a trace of
hoarseness in his voice. "I want you to understand that it will crush
him," he said. "He is an old and broken man, and you would lose nothing
by a little clemency. I will take every dollar of his debts upon
myself."
"I'm sorry, but it can't be helped," said Merril, with a shrug of his
shoulders which seemed to suggest that his patience was becoming
exhausted. "The conditions laid down must be carried out."
Jimmy rose slowly. Every nerve in him tingled, though there was only the
ominous scintillation in his eyes to indicate what he was feeling.
Laying one hand on Merril's desk, he looked down at him, and they faced
each other so for, perhaps, half a minute. The man who held in his grasp
many a small industry in that Province shrank inwardly beneath the
sailor's gaze.
"Then," said Jimmy, with a slow forcefulness that was the more
impressive because of the restraint he put upon himself, "you shall have
your money, and everything else that is due you. If I live long
enough--all--my father's debt will certainly be paid."
He went out; and Merril, to whom an interview of this description was
not exactly a novelty, was for once a little uneasy in his mind. There
was a certain suggestion of steadfastness in the seafarer's manner that
he did not like, and he felt that he could be relied on to keep his
promise if the opportunity were afforded him. Still, the bondholder
fancied it would not be insuperably difficult to contrive that the
occasion did not arise.
Next day the carpenters duly arrived on board the _Tyee_, and when they
took possession there was nothing for any one else to do, which was
partly why it happened that Jimmy sat smoking on the skylights of the
_Sorata_'s saloon one hot afternoon. He had told Valentine, who lay near
him on the warm deck, part of his troubles. There was scarcely a breath
of air, and the smoke of the big mills hung in a long trail above the
oily Inlet and floated in a filmy cloud athwart the towering pines. The
tapping of the carpenters' mallets on board the _Tyee_ came faintly
across the water.
"It will be three weeks, anyway, before you get your new deck in, and it
may be longer," said Valentine. "All the carpenters on this coast are
going up to the new railroad trestles, where they're getting almost any
price they ask. What are you going to do in the meanwhile?"
Jimmy said he did not know, and was sorry this was the case. He had
discovered that board costs a good deal in that country, and while the
_Tyee_ was practically gutted it would be necessary to live ashore.
Valentine appeared to ruminate, and then looked up at him.
"Well," he said reflectively, "I'm going up the coast, and I want an
experienced skipper. That's easy, because I know too much about
charterers to let them have my boat without taking me. Yachting's just
becoming popular here. Next, there's to be a capable cook, and that
could be contrived, because, although Louis is about the worst cook I
know, they needn't find it out until we're well away to sea. The third
man is the difficulty. He's to be warranted sober, reliable, and
intelligent, since he may be required to take the young ladies out
fishing in the dory. All to be civil and clean, and provided with
suitable uniform. It's in the charter. They appear to be particular
people."
Jimmy laughed. "Evidently. Still, I don't quite see what it all has to
do with me, since I'm not going. Where's the man you had when you took
the last party?"
"On the wharf; he'll never come back again with me. He was a blue-water
man, and one day he broke loose and got at the charterers' whisky. Tried
to kiss one of the young ladies as he was carrying her on board the
dory, and, though I threw him in afterward, her father made considerable
unpleasantness over the thing."
He stopped a moment, and looked at Jimmy with a whimsical twinkle in his
eyes. "Now, I don't know any reason why you shouldn't come if you feel
like it. You seem reasonably sober, and I guess you could be civil.
Charterers aren't quite so trying here as one would fancy they are in
the Old Country. I've been there; but on the Pacific Slope we haven't
yet branded the people who work as quite outside the pale. You could put
on the steamboat jacket, and I've an old man-o'-war cap with gold
letters on it. The man who left it on board the _Sorata_ privately
discharged himself from one of the Pacific squadron. It was a dark
night, and he was almost drowned when I got him. Well, it would bring
you twelve dollars a week, all found--it's what I'd have to pay another
man--besides being a favor to me."
Jimmy laughed outright. He had his cares just then, but he was, after
all, a young man of somewhat whimsical temperament, and the prospect of
the adventure appealed to him. The twelve dollars a week were more
attractive still, since he had reasons for believing that the small sum
he had brought with him to Vancouver would be badly wanted before very
long, and while the _Tyee_ lay idle he could not trench upon his
father's scanty store.
"Well," he said, "it sounds a crazy kind of thing, but that is, perhaps,
why it attracts me. I'll come."
Valentine smiled. "Then you'll come off early to-morrow, and try to
remember you're a blue-water man who has hired out to me. You want to
get yourself up kind of smartly. We'll go below and see what I've got.
It's in the charter."
Half an hour later Jimmy was rowed ashore, and he walked back to the
wharf where the _Tyee_ was lying with, for the first time during several
weeks, a smile in his eyes. It would be a relief to forget his troubles
for a week or two, and his father would not need him in the meanwhile.
Naturally he did not know that the crazy venture on which he had
embarked was to have somewhat important results for him as well as for
other people.