SYDNEY, N.S.W., Jan. 15:--The ship _Castor_ arrived here to-day
from Chemainus, B.C., and reports passing a large quantity of
wreckage in lat. 31 degrees North, long. 152 degrees West,
which seems to prove the loss at sea of the Glasgow four mast
barque, _Kelvinhaugh_. The wreckage consisted of lumber, yards
and upper masts, and a damaged life-boat bore the name
_KELVINHAUGH--GLASGOW_. The master of the _Castor_ is of the
opinion that the barque foundered by capsizing in a squall. The
ill-fated vessel carried a crew of twenty-five men, most of
whom were signed on in Vancouver, B.C., from which port she
loaded lumber for Sydney, N.S.W. She was a new vessel of 2,500
tons, commanded by William Muirhead of 972 Glenburn Road,
Glasgow, and owned by D. McKenzie & Co., Glasgow.
He laid the clipping down and looked into space. "So she went ... just
as Nickerson said she would. We're lucky ... darned lucky!" The mother
nodded as he spoke his thoughts aloud. "You don't know how thankful I
was that you had left that ship when I read that," she said. "Just
think ... if you had remained in her. It would have been dreadful!"
Donald slipped his arm around her shoulders and laughed. "I'm not born
to be drowned, Mother," he said. "Now tell me, what do you know about
that lovely uncle of mine? Is he dead, knighted, in jail, or what?"
Mrs. McKenzie gave a contemptuous grimace as she replied, "The wicked
ever prosper, Donald. He seems to be getting along wonderfully. I see
his name in the papers quite often, and he is reputed to be one of the
wealthiest men in Glasgow. He has a whole fleet of tramp steamers
now--the Dun Line--"
"It's well named," interrupted Donald grimly. "He should spell it
D-O-N-E--for it has been by _doing_ poor sailors and insurance
companies and others that he has made progress. I wonder what his
object was in trying to 'do' me? The fellow apparently meant to have
me put out of the way."
"I haven't the faintest idea, sonny-boy. I thought possibly it might
be something in connection with the Dunsany title and estate, but I
can't, for the life of me, see how you would have anything to do with
it. Sir Alastair died last year and his son, Roderick, inherited the
title and the property. I don't know much about him, except what I've
heard in various ways. He's a professional man of some kind, unmarried
and in poor health, and he spends most of his time in England. Your
Uncle David would claim the title should anything happen to Roderick,
and when David passed on, it would go to his son--young Alastair.
About the only decent trait in that man is the affection he seems to
have for that boy--so I've been told--and I only hope, some day, that
he is punished through his son for what he has done to you--" The
fierce spirit of the Highlander flamed in her eyes.
"Hush! hush! Mater dear, don't talk like that," Donald said, patting
her hands. "What do we need to care for him now? Let him slip away as
a bad memory. There'll come a time when he'll have to pay the price,
but we needn't be the ones to present the bill. Now, Mater, we'll go
up to Glasgow to-morrow and book passage for Halifax. I have reserved
two second cabin berths in the _Ontarian_, sailing Saturday." He
paused and gave her a keen scrutiny. "Bye-the-bye, Mother," he asked
gravely, "what made you use the passage-money I sent you? I mean,
what caused you to use it after leaving the Hydro?"
She tried to evade the question, but he insisted, and after much
coaxing she told the story. Dismissed suddenly and without a reference
from the Ross Bay Hydropathic, she had tried for place after place,
until she was forced to accept a position as waitress in a workman's
coffee room. "Good God!" ejaculated Donald. "In a workman's coffee
room? A waitress...?" Frightful thoughts went through his mind and his
mother seemed to divine them. "No, dearie, it wasn't so bad as you
think. The poor are good to the poor. I was never insulted or
abused ... nor heard bad language, except when a man was drunk." She
paused, then continued her tale. "It was very hard work, early and
late, and I took sick. I was ill for six or eight weeks and had to
draw on the money you sent me. I was down to the last shilling when a
kind lady, who had been a patient at the Ross Hydro, met me and got me
the position of night matron in this home."
Donald listened quietly, but his knuckles showed white on the tan of
his clenched hands, and there was an ominous glint in his eyes. "I'd
like to tear the heart out of him!" he growled fiercely, but the
mother soothed him. "Let's forget it all, sonny-dear, and talk of
Canada. I have ten pounds saved up. Will I need to buy heavy clothes
for the cold winters there? They tell me it's all frozen up for half
the year in Canada."
The vindictive glint in the youth's eyes faded away and he laughed
heartily. "Why, Mater, where did you get that yarn? I'll bet you won't
feel the cold as much there in winter as you do here. It was warm
enough when I left, goodness knows! What's good for winter here is
good enough for Nova Scotia. Now, we'll book second cabin passages
out, and for once I'll go as a passenger and find out what it feels
like to loaf around at sea."
After a stay of just three days in Glasgow, during which time McKenzie
called on Mrs. McGlashan and gave her news of her son, the two sailed
for Halifax. After an uneventful voyage, they arrived in the old
Canadian city by the sea on a fine October day, and Donald telephoned
the Nickersons at Eastville Harbor. Judson answered the call. "I'll
meet you at the boat, Donald," he said over the long distance wire,
"and I'll have a load of wood up to your shack, the stove lit, the
kittle on and grub in the locker. I'm tickled to death you're back,
and I've got a fine little brig for you to second mate in a couple of
weeks. And, bye-the-bye, Donny-boy"--he chuckled into the
instrument--"Ira Burton's landed his fish an' we've skinned him hands
daown. He jest came short of aour trip by ten quintals. It's the talk
of the taown, boy, and he's riproarin' sore abaout it. He lost a lot
of time at the Madaleens and he struck a bad breeze on the Banks and
lost an anchor and hawser, some of his dories and a pile o' gear. It's
a rare joke, but I ain't agoin' to take his money. He struck hard luck
all through. An' say, Donald, you'll find Ruth daown home here, but
she's got that codfish aristocrat with her. I've a notion to shanghai
him to the West Indies--Oh, gorry! they're here. I must knock off. So
long, Donny-me-lad! See you in the morning!"
So Moodey was down at Eastville! Donald was not very pleased at the
news, but then, a girl might have men friends without anything serious
being the intention. He was jealous, he said to himself, and Ruth was
not tied to him. He had neither a proprietory interest nor a monopoly
of her company, and he could not expect her to avoid the society of
all men-folk but Donald McKenzie. Thus cogitating, he laughed the
matter away, and called up Helena Stuart. "My! Donald, but I'm glad
you're back," she said after the first greetings. "And your mother is
with you? Bring her up to the house this afternoon and stay until your
boat leaves for Eastville. Mother will be delighted. Do come now!
Don't forget! Au revoir!"
Before going to the Stuarts, Mrs. McKenzie looked her son over
critically. He was wearing the much-detested suit, but his mother had
overhauled it and shortened the hated sleeves. It did not look good on
him, however, and the mother knew he disliked it. "Don," she
suggested, "I think you could afford to buy another suit. I want to
see you looking nice. Don't you think you could get one ready made to
put on before going up to your friend's house?"
Donald, with true Scotch canniness, counted his money. "I think I can,
Mater. I've got twenty-five dollars I can spend--some for you and some
for me. Let's go shopping!"
When he stepped into the Stuart parlor that afternoon, he was attired
in a neat grey tweed which really fitted his slim, well set-up figure.
Fifteen dollars could accomplish wonders! When Helena saw him, she
stepped back in surprise. "I really didn't know you," she cried, with
a smile of admiration on her pretty face. "You don't look a bit
like--like--what will I say?"
"Like a fisherman," volunteered Donald, laughing at her evident
confusion. "That's what you wanted to say, but you didn't like to say
it for fear of offending." She came close to him and whispered softly,
"If Ruth were to see you now, she'd fall in love with you right off!"
And McKenzie blushed furiously.
When his mother was busily engaged in conversation with Mrs. Stuart,
Donald got Helena away to a corner. He wanted to find out something,
and he thought Helena might tell him. "Helena," he said quietly, "I
look upon you as one of my best friends, and I want you to tell me if
Ruth really cares for Mr. Moodey?"
The girl looked up at him quickly with a smile in her dark eyes, but
when she saw the earnest look on his face, she became serious. "I--I
really don't know, Donald," she answered. "He has been going around
with her a great deal and she appears to be fond of him. He belongs to
a good family here in Halifax and his people are well off. He is
studying law at the College and is very popular with a certain set
here--quite an athlete and a social star--and he simply dances
attendance on Ruth when she is here."