MERRIL TIGHTENS THE SCREW
The _Sorata_ went to sea again next morning, and one night a week later
she bore up for Vancouver before a westerly breeze. A thin crescent moon
had just cleared the dim white line of the mainland snow, and the sea
glittered faintly in her frothing wake under a vast sweep of dusky blue.
The big topsail swayed across it, blotting out the stars, and there was
a rhythmic splashing beneath the bows.
Anthea Merril stood at the tiller outlined against the heave of sea, for
the night was warm and she was dressed in white. Nellie Austerly sat on
a locker in the cockpit, and her father on the saloon skylights with a
cigar in his hand. Valentine lay on the deck not far away, and Jimmy a
little further forward.
"I suppose we will be in soon after daylight, and I'm sorry," said
Nellie Austerly. "It has been an almost perfect cruise in spite of the
bad weather. Don't you wish we were going back again, instead of home,
Anthea?"
Jimmy roused himself to attention, for he would very much have liked to
hear Miss Merril's real thoughts on the matter; but she laughed.
"I don't think it would be very much use if I did," she said. "One
can't go sailing always--and if you feel that that is a pity, you can
think of the rain and the wind."
"Ah!" said Nellie Austerly, "one has to bear so much of them everywhere.
Sometimes one wonders whether life is all gray days and rain; but this
trip has made me better, and, perhaps, if Mr. Valentine will take us, we
will go back next year and revel once more in the sea and the
sunshine--we really had a good deal of the latter."
Jimmy saw his comrade make a little abrupt movement, and guessed what he
was thinking, for he too realized that before another year Nellie
Austerly would in all probability have slipped away from the sad gray
weather to the shores of the glassy sea where there is eternal radiance.
Then Austerly looked around, and his observation was very
matter-of-fact, as usual.
"If circumstances are propitious, I should be glad to arrange it," he
said. "I certainly think Mr. Valentine has done everything he could for
us. Indeed, we owe it largely to him that this has been such a pleasant
trip."
He appeared to expect some expression of approval, and Anthea laughed.
"Of course. It's only unfortunate he couldn't arrange the weather."
"I wonder," said Nellie reflectively, "why you both leave Jimmy out?"
There was a certain suggestiveness in the girl's tone which Jimmy
noticed, though he did not think her father did, and he wished it had
been light enough to see Anthea Merril's face; but unfortunately it was
not. She appeared to disregard the question, and glanced in Valentine's
direction.
"Couldn't we have the big spinnaker up?" she asked.
Valentine hesitated a little. The breeze was moderately fresh and the
_Sorata_ traveling fast enough, while it is not a very easy thing to
steer a craft running under the great three-cornered sail, which is apt
to swing over in case of a blunder at the tiller.
"You could hold her steady before the wind?" he asked.
"If I don't, I will make my father buy you a new mast," said Anthea.
Valentine made a little gesture which was expressive of resignation. It
was, he had discovered, singularly hard to say no to Anthea Merril; but
it seemed to him that the new mast might be needed if she ventured too
far now. He and Jimmy between them got the great sail up and its boom
run out, though it cost them an effort; and then Jimmy glanced aft with
more than a trace of uneasiness at the white figure at the helm. The
_Sorata_ had now on each side of her a swelling mass of canvas that
dwarfed the narrow strip of hull, and she swung each of them high in
turn as she rolled viciously. Still, as far as Jimmy could see, the girl
stood very composedly at the tiller. Then, as the great mainboom went up
high above the sea, Valentine signed to him.
"You had better get out and steady it," he said. "It wouldn't need much
to bring that boom over."
Jimmy crawled out on the slippery spar, and sat astride near the end of
it, while Valentine made his way along the one beneath the spinnaker.
Their weight checked the lifting of the sails in some degree, but for
the first few minutes it seemed to Jimmy that they and their companions
were hazarding a good deal. If the girl at the helm let the tiller swing
a hand's-breadth too much when the _Sorata_, piling the froth about her,
rushed up a dim slope of water, either mainsail or spinnaker would swing
over, and the men on the booms would have no opportunity for attempting
to obviate the unpleasantness that would certainly succeed it. In all
probability they would be flung off headlong into the sea. Still, the
sail did not come over, for the _Sorata_ drove along straight before the
wind, and once more Jimmy paid silent homage to the girl at the tiller.
He could see her only dimly, a blurred white shape against the dusky
sea, but he could imagine the little glow in her eyes and the way in
which her lips were pressed together. He had seen her look that way when
she sat beside him in the cockpit one wild morning as the _Sorata_
plunged over the great Pacific combers, and it seemed to him that she
was one who would face difficulties and perils of any kind as
unwaveringly. Indeed, he was angry with himself for having fancied there
was any hazard at all in leaving her to steer the _Sorata_ under
spinnaker, for he felt that Anthea Merril must necessarily be capable of
carrying out anything she had undertaken.
So he swung contentedly with the lifting boom, now hove high above the
dark water, now dropped down until his feet were almost in the streaming
froth, while shadowy islets clothed with pines sprang out of the sea
ahead, grew into solid blurs of blackness, and flitted by, until at last
Austerly said that his daughter must go below. Then Valentine and Jimmy
came in along the booms, stowed the spinnaker with some difficulty, and
dropped the topsail too, for the dim mainland shore was black ahead when
the rest left the deck to them.
"That girl has quite excellent nerves," said Valentine. "Still, what I
like about her is that she doesn't think it necessary to impress it on
you. Her husband won't have much to complain of if she ever marries
anybody, though I'm not sure that's certain."
"Not certain?" said Jimmy.
"No," replied Valentine reflectively. "A girl of her kind is apt to be
particular. The man who pleases her would have to be quite straight, and
it's scarcely likely he'd go to leeward either."
Jimmy fancied that his comrade was right, though he said nothing, for
after all it was, as he compelled himself to admit, no concern of his.
However, he sighed a little as he went down and crawled into his cot,
leaving Valentine to feel his way along the dusky shore.
It was early next morning when they rowed Austerly and his two
companions ashore, and the man shook hands with them on the wharf.
"I feel that I am indebted to both of you," he said with somewhat
unusual diffidence. "In fact, I can't exactly consider that the
attention you have shown my daughter is no more than one would
expect--from the charter."
He seemed to feel that he was becoming involved, and went on abruptly.
"She desires me to say that it would be a pleasure should either of you
care to call at any time."
Jimmy left him to Valentine, and, when the latter had handed Miss
Austerly into the waiting vehicle, saw that Anthea Merril was looking at
him.
"If you don't mind my saying so, I think that was rather good of
Austerly," she said. "You probably know his point of view, and I daresay
it cost him an effort. I think your comrade should go. Nellie finds him
amusing, and there is naturally not very much in her life that pleases
her."
She stopped with a little soft laugh. "Mr. Wheelock--isn't it? I haven't
the least difficulty in saying as much as Austerly did. Any time you or
Mr. Valentine care to call I should be glad to receive you. Our house is
always open, and anybody will tell you where it is."
Jimmy once more remembered that he had on a pair of burst canvas shoes,
as well as old duck trousers cobbled with sail twine, and a man-o'-war
cap that had grown shapeless with the rain. He also realized that his
companion was quite aware of it too.
"I'm afraid it wouldn't be a very appropriate thing if I did," he said.
Anthea looked at him steadily. "Pshaw!" she said. "Still, you really
can't expect me to urge you."
Perhaps it was a slight relief to both of them that Valentine signed to
Jimmy just then. "They want this box," he said. "The rest of the things
are to wait for the express wagon."
Jimmy, who turned away, heaved the box into the vehicle, and did not see
the curious little smile in Anthea Merril's eyes. In a few minutes she
had driven away, and, he fancied, had passed out of his life altogether.
He stood still on the wharf and sighed.
"Well," said Valentine, "where are you going now?"
"Straight back to the schooner," said Jimmy. "I see her lying outside
the steamboat yonder. You might bring my things across when you have
straightened up the boat."
Valentine promised to do so, and Jimmy, who strode away, met Jordan,
whom he had not expected to see there, on the water-front.
"What are you doing in Vancouver?" he asked.
"Looking after my patent rights--among other things," said Jordan. "The
mill's shut down for two or three weeks anyway. Between the stone in the
water and the new detergent the directors insisted on my using, the
boiler has 'most turned herself inside out. Our people have their office
here, as you know, and my agreement with them only stands for another
month, while it seems that Merril has been buying up their stock. I'm
not sure his notions are going to suit me. You heard we had to break off
your father's contract?"
"I hadn't, though I was afraid it would happen," said Jimmy, whose face
grew a trifle grim. "That was Merril's doing?"
"It was. I couldn't help the thing. But we can't talk here; won't you
come along to my hotel?"
Jimmy glanced at his garments, and Jordan grinned. "Those things don't
count for so much here," he said. "Anyway, there was a time when I
tramped into the wooden cities along Puget Sound looking way more like a
dead-beat than you do now. Still, if that's going to worry you, can't
you get a boat and take me for a sail?"
Jimmy was sorry that it was out of the question. He had spent only a
few evenings with Jordan at the mill, but he liked the man, and was
vaguely sensible that Jordan liked him.
"Valentine and I have just run in, and I must see how the old man is
getting along," he said. "After that I fancy I ought to go over to a
ranch on the Westminster road, and look up my sister. I haven't seen her
since I came home."
"Well," said Jordan, "I've nothing on hand until to-morrow. What's the
matter with taking me? I'll hire a team somewhere and drive you. I can
drop you at the ranch, and go on to Westminster."
They arranged it during the next few minutes, and then Jimmy was rowed
off to the _Tyee_. Prescott met him as he climbed on board, and a glance
at his face showed Jimmy that things had not been going well.
"You will be wanted," he said. "Your father has been getting very shaky
since you went away, and I don't quite see how he's to hold on to the
schooner, now that he has lost that lumber contract and has to face the
carpenter's bill. Guess he's worrying over it. Hasn't got up the last
three days, and the doctor don't seem to know what is wrong with him."
Jimmy went down into the little stern cabin with a sinking heart, and
found Tom Wheelock lying propped up in his berth. He looked very old and
haggard, and the perspiration stood beaded on his face, in which pale
patches showed through the bronze.
"Glad you've got back, boy," he said. "You'll have to take hold
soon--that is, if there's anything left to get a grip on. The old man's
played out."
This, it seemed to Jimmy, was painfully evident, and though he
contrived to hide it, a sense of dismay crept over him as he sat down.
Tom Wheelock looked played out, and though his son was ready to take up
his burden, he felt it would be heavy. He realized that through the
compassion he felt, and then a sudden fit of anger against the man who
had crushed his father came over him. The color darkened a trifle in his
face, but he put a restraint upon himself.
"You'll be about again in a day or two," he said cheerily. "Now, tell me
all about it. But first of all, what is the matter with you?"
The old man looked at him with a curious little smile. "The doctor Bob
brought off didn't quite seem to know, but I could have told him. Guess
I'm done, boy. It's quite likely I'll crawl out on deck for a little
while, but how's that going to count? Nobody's going to have any more
use for your father, Jimmy, and when the month is up Merril will take
the schooner from him."
Jimmy clenched a big brown fist, but his voice was very quiet. "Well,"
he said, "I want to understand what has happened since I went away."
Wheelock reached out for the pipe that lay near him, and fumbled with
it, spilling the tobacco with shaky fingers, until Jimmy quietly took it
from him, and struck a match as he handed it back to him. The old man
raised himself a trifle as he lighted it, and then laid a trembling hand
on his son's arm.
"I guess I've worked as hard as most other men, but somehow I don't seem
to have gone to windward as the rest did," he said. "Perhaps I was too
easy with the money, and a little slack in other ways. Still, your
blood's red, Jimmy, and there's a streak of hard sand in you. You got it
from your mother; it was she who made me. Hard work don't count, boy.
You want to get your elbows into the other people who're standing in
your way. Well, I'm glad there's that streak of grit in you. You'll get
those fingers on the throat of the man who brought your father down, and
gripe the life out of him, some day."
He broke off abruptly, and fumbled with his pipe, which had gone out
again. "Let that go; it's fool talk, Jimmy. What do I want putting my
trouble on to you? Guess you'll have plenty of your own, boy."
"I think I asked you to tell me what Merril had done," said Jimmy.
"Kept us here under repairs while the lumber was piling up on the
sawmill wharf. I 'most guess he'd fixed the thing with the boss
carpenter. I was to bring all that the people at the Inlet cut for
Victoria or Vancouver down fast as it was ready, or they were to let up
on the contract; but Jordan would have made things easy if Merril hadn't
bought their stock and put the screw on hard."
"It wouldn't be worth his while to buy the stock for that."
"The thing's quite plain. He's playing a bigger game. Wants control of
all that's going on along that coast, and its carrying. Guess I can't
stop his getting the _Tyee_, and she's the second boat he has taken from
me. Well, I may get a freight of ore in a week or two, and, it's quite
likely, a load from a cannery--go up light--freight one way. How's that
going to count, though, when there's the carpenter's bill to meet, and
a big instalment on the bond with interest due?"
"How much?" Jimmy asked, harshly.
He sat silent a while, with a hard, set face, when his father told him.
"Then he must have the vessel. Still, he'll have to sell her by
auction," he said by and by.
"That won't count. When I've nobody to run the price up against him,
it's quite easy for a man like Merril to fix the thing. He'll get one of
his friends to buy her in at 'bout half her value, and the bond don't
quite call for that. It isn't everybody wants a vessel, and the few men
who do fix these things between them."
Jimmy set his lips, and once more there was silence for a while. Then he
looked up with a little abrupt movement. "There's a question in front of
us to be faced--and I'm going to find the answer; but we won't talk any
more about it now. I'm going over with Jordan this afternoon to see
Eleanor. You can get along until to-night without me?"
Wheelock made a sign of concurrence. "I guess it's a thing you ought to
do. Got a letter from her yesterday, and she was asking about you.
Eleanor's like you. Take after your mother, both of you, and, if
anything, the harder grit's in her. You have to remember, Jimmy, you
can't afford to show a soft spot when you're fighting a man like
Merril."
He stopped a moment, with a sigh. "Guess he is too hard for your father.
Won't you light me this pipe again? My hand's shaky."