JORDAN KEEPS HIS PROMISE
Right sunshine streamed down on the Inlet, and there was an exhilarating
freshness in the morning air; but Anthea Merril sat somewhat listlessly
on the veranda outside her father's house, looking across the sparkling
water toward the snows of the north. She had done the same thing
somewhat frequently of late, and, as had happened on each occasion, her
thoughts were fixed on the little vessel that had apparently vanished in
the fog-wrapped sea. Anthea had grown weary of waiting for news of her.
Hitherto very little that she desired had been denied her, and though
that had not been sufficient to pervert her nature, it naturally made
the suspense she had to face a little harder to bear, since the money
before which other difficulties had melted was in this case of no avail.
The commander of the _Shasta_ had passed far beyond her power to recall
him; and, if he still lived, of which she was far from certain, it was
only the primitive courage and stubborn endurance which are not confined
to men of wealth and station that could bring him back to her in spite
of blinding fog and icy seas. Anthea had no longer any hesitation in
admitting that this was what she greatly desired. Now that he had--it
appeared more than possible--sailed out of her life altogether into the
unknown haven that awaits the souls of the sailormen, she knew how she
longed for him. Still, the days had slipped by, and there was no word
from the silent north which has been for many a sailorman and sealer the
fairway to the tideless sea.
At last she started a little as a man came up the drive toward the
house. He appeared to be a city clerk, but, though Merril had not yet
gone out, she did not recognize him as one of those in her father's
service. He turned when he saw her and came straight across the lawn,
and Anthea felt a thrill run through her as she noticed that he had an
envelope in his hand.
"Miss Merril?" he said. "Mr. Jordan sent this with his compliments."
Anthea thanked him, but did not open the envelope until he turned away.
Even then she almost felt her courage fail as she tore it apart and took
out a strip of paper that appeared to be a telegraphic message addressed
to Jordan.
"Held up by fog and got ashore, but arrived here undamaged. Clearing
again morning," it read, and the blood crept into her face as she saw
that it was signed, "Wheelock Shasta."
For the next five minutes she sat perfectly still, conscious only of a
great relief, and then she roused herself with an effort as Merril came
out of the house.
"A telegram!" he said, with a smile. "Who has been wiring you? Have you
been speculating?"
"In that case, don't you think I should have come to you for
information?" asked Anthea, who was mistress of herself again.
"I'm not sure that you would have been wise if you had," said Merril,
with a whimsical grimace. "I don't seem to have been very successful
with my own affairs of late. Anyway, you haven't told me what I asked."
Anthea was never quite sure why she placed the message in his hand. She
was aware that he was not interested in the subject, and would certainly
not have pressed her for an answer. In fact, he very seldom inquired as
to what she did, and had never attempted to place any restraint upon
her. He glanced at the message, and then turned to her again.
"Wheelock to Jordan. Friends of yours?" he said. "You would probably
meet them at Austerly's."
"Yes," said Anthea, "I think I may say they are."
It was essentially characteristic of Merril that he showed no
displeasure. He was indulgent to his daughter, and one who very seldom
allowed himself to be led away by either personal liking or rancor. For
a moment he stood still looking down at her with a dry smile, and,
because no father and daughter can be wholly dissimilar, Anthea bore his
scrutiny with perfect composure.
"Well," he said, "they're both men of some ability, with signs of grit
in them, though I don't know that it would have troubled me if I had
heard no more of the _Shasta_. Now I'm a little late, and it will be
to-night before I'm back from the city."
He turned away, and once more Anthea became sensible of a faint
repulsion for her father. Every word Eleanor Wheelock had uttered in
Forster's ranch had impressed itself on her memory, and she knew now
that his interests clashed with those of the _Shasta_ Company. It would
not have astonished her if he had shown some sign of resentment, but
this complete indifference appeared unnatural, and troubled her. He was,
it seemed, as devoid of anger as he was, if Eleanor Wheelock and several
others were to be believed, of pity. Then she felt that she must, to a
certain extent, at least, confide in some one, and she set out to call
on Nellie Austerly.
It happened that morning that Jimmy stood on the _Shasta_'s bridge as
she steamed up the softly gleaming straits. Ahead a dingy smoke-cloud
was moving on toward him, and he took his glasses from the box when the
black shape of a steamer grew out of it. She rose rapidly higher, and
Jimmy guessed that she was considerably larger than the _Shasta_ and
steaming three or four knots faster. Then he made out that her deck was
crowded with passengers, and, though the beaver ensign floated over her
stern, their destination was evident when he glanced at the flag at the
fore. The only American soil north of them was Alaska.
She drew abreast, a beautiful vessel of old and almost obsolete model,
with the clear green water frothing high beneath her outward curve of
prow. There was no forecastle forward to break the sweeping line of
rail, and the broad quarter-deck that overhung her slender stern had
also its suggestiveness to a seaman's eye. The smoke-cloud at her funnel
further hinted that her speed was purchased by a consumption of coal
that would have been considered intolerable in a modern boat. Then the
strip of bunting at her mainmast head fixed Jimmy's attention.
"Merril's hard on our trail," he said. "She's taking a big crowd of
miners north. That's his flag."
Fleming, who stood beneath the bridge, looked up with a little nod. "I
would not compliment him on his sense," he said. "A beautiful boat, but
the man who runs her will want a coal-mine of his own. Got her cheap, I
figure, but it's only at top-freights she could make a living. Guess
Merril's screwing all he can out of those miners, but those rates won't
last when the C.P.R. and the Americans cut in, and if I had a boat of
that kind I'd put up a big insurance and then scuttle her."
Then one of the two or three bronzed prospectors who had come down with
the _Shasta_ approached the bridge.
"Can't you let the boys who are going up know we've been there?" he
said. "It might encourage them to see that somebody has come out alive."
Jimmy called to his quartermaster before he answered the man. "Well," he
said, "in a general way the signal wouldn't quite mean that, but it's
very likely they'll understand it."
Merril's boat was almost alongside, when the quartermaster broke out the
stars and stripes at the _Shasta_'s masthead. A roar of voices greeted
the snapping flag, and the heads grew thick as cedar twigs in the
shadowy bush along the stranger's rail; while the men who stood higher
aft upon her ample quarter-deck flung their hats and arms aloft. Jimmy
could see them plainly, and their faces and garments proclaimed that
most of them were from the cities. There were others whose skin was
darkened and who wore older clothes; but these did not shout, for they
were men who had been at close grips with savage nature already, and had
some notion of what was before them. Jimmy blew his whistle and dipped
the beaver flag, while a curious little thrill ran through him as the
sonorous blast hurled his greeting across the clear green water. He knew
what these men would have to face who were going up, the vanguard of a
great army, to grapple with the wilderness, and it was clear that nature
would prove too terrible for many of them who would never drag their
bones out of it again.
Once more the voices answered him with a storm of hopeful cries, for the
soft-handed men of the cities had also the courage of their breed. It
was the careless, optimistic courage of the Pacific Slope, and
store-clerk and hotel-lounger cheered the _Shasta_ gaily as, reckless of
what was before them, they went by. When the time came to face screaming
blizzard and awful cold they would, for the most part, do it willingly,
and go on unflinching in spite of flood and frost until they dropped
beside the trail. Jimmy, who realized this vaguely, felt the thrill
again, and was glad that he had sped them on their way with a message of
good-will; but there was no roar from their steamer's whistle, and the
beaver flag blew out undipped at her stern. Then, as she drew away from
him, his face hardened, and the engineer looked at him with a grin.
"Merril's skipper's like him, and that's 'most as mean as he could be,"
he said.
Jimmy glanced toward his masthead. "If there were many of his kind among
my countrymen, I'd feel tempted to shift that flag aft, and keep it
there," he said. "The boys from Puget Sound could cheer."
One of the prospectors who stood below broke into a little soft laugh.
"Oh, yes," he said, "it's in them, and all the snow up yonder won't melt
it out. Still, it's your quiet bushmen and ours who'll do the getting
there. Guess they could raise a smile for you--and they did; but when it
comes to shouting, they haven't breath to spare."
He turned and looked after the steamer growing smaller to the northward
amidst her smoke-cloud. "One in every twenty may bottom on paying gold,
and you might figure on three or four more making grub and a few ounces
on a hired man's share. The snow and the river will get the rest."
Then he strolled away, and when Jimmy looked around again there was only
a smoke-trail on the water, for the steamer had sunk beneath the verge
of the sea. His attention also was occupied by other things that
concerned him more than the steamer, for another two or three hours
would bring him to Vancouver Inlet, which he duly reached that
afternoon, and found Jordan and a crowd through which the latter could
scarcely struggle awaiting him on the wharf. Still, he got on board, and
poured out tumultuous questions while he wrung Jimmy's hand, and it was
twenty minutes at least before Jimmy had supplied him with the
information he desired. Then he sat down and smiled.
"Well," he said, "we'll go into the other points to-morrow, and to-night
you're coming to Austerly's with me. Got word from Miss Nellie that I
was to bring you sure. She wanted me to send a team over for Eleanor."
"Then why didn't you?" asked Jimmy.
Jordan's manner became confidential. "Nellie Austerly contrived to
mention that Miss Merril would be there too, and it seemed to me that
Eleanor mightn't quite fit in. She has her notions, and when she gets
her program fixed I just stand clear of her and let her go ahead. It's
generally wiser. Anyway, I felt that I could afford to do the straight
thing by you and Austerly."
"Thanks!" said Jimmy, with a dry smile. "Of course, there is nothing to
be gained by pretending that Eleanor is fond of Miss Merril."
Jordan sighed. "Well, I guess other men's sisters have their little
fancies now and then, and though she has scared me once or twice,
Eleanor's probably not very different from the rest of them. I was a
trifle played out--driven too hard and anxious--while you were away, and
she was awfully good to me--gentle as an angel; but for all that, I feel
one couldn't trust her alone with Miss Merril on a dark night if she had
a sharp hatpin or anything of that kind. And as for Merril, I believe
she wouldn't raise any objections if it were in our power to have him
skinned alive. Now, I like a girl with grit in her."
"Still, Eleanor goes a little further than you care about at times?"
Jordan laid a hand on his companion's arm. "Jimmy," he said, "there's a
thing you haven't mentioned to either of us--and I didn't expect you
to--but I feel that by and by your sister is going to make trouble for
you."
Jimmy looked at him steadily, and Jordan smiled. "You needn't trouble
about making any disclaimer. I see how it is. Somehow you're going to
get her. Merril's not likely to run us off. I guess there's no reason
to worry about him. Still, I want you to understand that if I can't put
a check on your sister--and that's quite likely--I'm going to stand by
her. I just have to."
"Of course!" said Jimmy gravely. "Nobody would expect anything else from
you. I don't mind admitting that I have been a little anxious about what
Eleanor might do--but we'll change the subject. You suggested that
Merril was getting into trouble?"
"He is," said Jordan, with evident relief. "They're making the road to
the pulp-mill, and I don't quite know where he raised his share of the
money, especially as he has just taken over a big old-type steamer. Had
to face a high figure, played out as she is. Ships are in demand. Now,
there are men like Merril whose money isn't their own; that is, they can
get it from other people to make a profit on, as a general thing. But
these aren't ordinary times; any man with money can make good interest
on it himself just now, and I've more than a fancy that Merril's handing
out instead of raking in. He has been at the banks lately, and when
there's a demand for money everywhere you can figure what they're going
to charge him. Anyway, we won't worry about him in the meanwhile. Get on
your shore-clothes. As soon as you're ready you're coming up-town with
me."