WHERE FLOWS THE TIDE
After Douglas Stanton had handed back the violin to the blind musician,
he stood a little distance off and watched to see what would happen.
He felt quite interested in the old man and the girl, and longed to
know something about them. Why were they thus appealing to the crowds
for money? The man did not seem like the ordinary street musician, as
there was something dignified and refined in his manner. The girl was
unusually timid. He could not forget the big blue eyes which had
turned to him in gratitude for his assistance, and he had noticed how
clean and neat was her simple dress.
"Queer couple that, sir; mere babies."
The man turned suddenly and saw the police sergeant standing by his
side.
"Do you know who they are?" Douglas enquired.
"No; never saw them before. But they're such kids that I feel sorry
for them, and so ordered Hawkins to see that they got safe home."
"It was good of you, Sergeant, to do that. But, say, I didn't know you
were on this beat. When did you leave the water-front?"
"Last night, sir. Flemming's down there now. You know him, I think;
he was with me for a while last spring when things were lively there."
"Yes, I remember quite well. He helped us in that Fenston row."
"He's the one, and a good man, too. But I did like that beat, as I was
on it so long. It is too tame up here, and you know I'm fond of a bit
of excitement now and then."
"You got it down there all right, didn't you, especially when the docks
were full?"
"You bet," and the sergeant smacked his lips as past scenes came to his
mind. "But it's quiet at the docks now. I haven't seen you there for
the last few days, sir."
"I know you haven't, and you won't see me there again for some time.
I'm going down to-night to have one more look at the old place."
"Why, not going away!" the sergeant exclaimed in surprise.
"That's about it."
"My, my! What in the world shall we do without you! There'll be no
one to take an interest in things down there now."
"Oh, there'll be plenty, I guess."
"You're the first one who ever did, and I'm damned sure those
high-brows won't follow your lead. Not a bit of it! They're too much
taken up with their pink teas, and such things, and wouldn't think of
soiling their nice hands with dock trash."
The sergeant was on his favourite subject now, and his temper was
rising. Douglas had heard his opinions before, and was not anxious to
listen to them again.
"I must be off now, Sergeant. I shall always remember your kindness."
"But you'll be sure to give us a call, sir? The missus will feel all
cut up if you don't."
"Yes, I'll be around as soon as I can. So, good-night."
The worthy sergeant stood and watched him as he moved away.
"Too bad," he muttered. "We can't afford to lose the likes of him.
Wonder where in the world he's going. I've always said we couldn't
keep him forever, and I guess I was right. It must be a mighty big
thing that would take him away from the docks. He should be a chief of
police instead of being nothing but a go-cart."
While the sergeant was thus musing, Douglas moved as rapidly as
possible along the crowded streets. He wished to get away from the
commotion of the throngs that he might consider the thoughts that were
uppermost in his mind. Keeping steadily on, he at length reached the
street running along the front of the harbour. It was a narrow street,
dimly lighted, with huge warehouses on both sides. There was little
traffic now, as this was a winter port, and the big ocean liners did
not come here during the summer months. It was not a desirable
locality, especially at night, and most people shunned the place. The
few Douglas met were either hurrying to get away as soon as possible or
slinking slowly along, preferring this gloomy abode to the
brightly-lighted parts of the city.
The street at length became wider where the docks ran out into the
harbour. At several of these small steamers were lying, and a number
of sailing craft. Here men were busy loading and unloading the
vessels. Douglas did not stop to watch them, as at other times, but
kept steadily on until he reached the last dock which was entirely
deserted. One electric light shed its beams out over the water, which
was kept burning as a guide to incoming boats. Down this dock he
walked, and when he came close to the water he stood for a while and
looked out over the harbour. It was an inspiring sight to see the
lights gleaming on the opposite shore, and from the passing tugs and
other vessels.
Here a large warehouse ran along one side of the dock almost to the
water's edge. Just around the nearest corner was a steamer's broken
shaft, and noticing this, Douglas sat down upon it to rest. It was
almost high tide, and the water lapped lazily against the dock. There
was a restful quietness here, and Douglas enjoyed the respite from the
busy crowds. Below the dock several small tugs were moored, and the
sound of voices came to him occasionally from that direction. He
thought of the last time he had visited this place, and how the dock
then was the scene of such hustling commotion, for a big ocean liner
was all ready to leave. She had gone and had left not a visible trace
behind. So it would be with him, he mused. Soon he himself would be
away, and the life of the city would go on the same and none would
remember him. His thoughts drifted to the principal ones who were
responsible for his going, and his face hardened, while his hands
clenched. He knew what they would say when they heard of it. There
would be a slight lifting of the eyebrows, no more than good breeding
would allow. It would be mentioned at afternoon teas, and at
card-tables. He could imagine what some of them would say. "Poor
fellow, his head was somewhat turned with that dock work. He will
learn wisdom as he gets older." Yes, such remarks as these would be
made, and then he would be entirely forgotten.
He remained musing in this fashion for some time, lost to the world
around him. He was going away--he knew not whither, defeated for a
while but not beaten. He had the future before him, and he would make
good. If he could not do it here, he would in some other place.
The sound of voices at last aroused him. It came from his left, and he
peered around the corner of the warehouse. For a few seconds he could
see no one, but he knew there were people not far off who were talking
in a most earnest manner. Presently, out of the darkness stepped a man
and a woman, and passed directly under the electric lamp. He saw their
faces distinctly, especially the woman's, which was strained and
haggard, as she listened to her companion. As they came nearer and
stood close to the edge of the dock, it was possible for Douglas to
overhear parts of the conversation. He could not see their faces now,
though he could observe their forms, and he knew that the woman was
standing near the water, and it was quite evident that she was weeping.
"But you promised me, Ben; you really did," she was saying.
"I know I did, Jean, but we must wait a while," was the reply.
"But we cannot wait," the woman urged. "You know how serious it is if
we delay much longer. All will know, and I shall be disgraced."
"Tut, tut," and the man stamped angrily upon the floor of the dock.
"Don't talk so foolishly. A few weeks won't make any difference."
"How long do you think?" the woman asked.
"Oh, five or six, I should imagine."
"No, I tell you that will be too late. It must not be longer than two.
Promise me that it will not be more than that."
"Well, I promise," the man slowly assented.
"Swear to it, then," the woman demanded. "Place your left hand upon
your heart, and hold your right hand up to heaven, and swear by Him who
is watching and listening that you will be true to your word."
A coarse, brutal laugh came from the man's lips.
"Won't you believe me?" he demanded.
"Not unless you swear."
"Well, I won't, so that's the end of it."
At these words the woman gave a low moan, and what she said Douglas
could not hear. Whatever it was it made the man angry and he again
stamped his foot.
"What do I care?" he growled. "You can go to the snivelling old idiot
and tell him all you want to."
"Oh, Ben!" and the woman laid a hand upon his arm, "how can you say
such things?"
With a curse he flung her hand away, and then in a twinkling he gave
her a push, and before she could recover herself she had gone backwards
over the edge of the dock. With a frightened cry she disappeared, and
the man, instead of trying to rescue her, leaped aside and vanished
into the darkness.
All this happened so quickly that Douglas hardly realised what had
taken place before it was all over. His first impulse was to spring
after the man who had committed the cowardly deed. But the thought of
the woman down there in the water deterred him and caused him to hasten
at once to her assistance. Anxiously he peered over the edge, and at
length saw a hand thrust above the surface. It took him but an instant
to tear off his coat and hurl himself into the water below. A few
powerful strokes brought him close to the woman, and he was enabled to
reach out and clutch her with a firm grip ere she again disappeared.
Fortunate it was for him that he was a strong swimmer, and he was thus
able to hold the woman's head above water while he slowly worked his
way toward the lower side of the dock, where he hoped to find a landing
place. He had not proceeded far, however, ere a rowboat shot suddenly
out from the shore, and a deep voice hailed him.
"Hold on a minute!" was the order. Soon the boat was near, and both
Douglas and the woman were hauled aboard.
"What have ye got there? A woman?" the boatman asked.
"Yes," was the brief response.
"Thought so," the rescuer laconically remarked. "Screamed when she
went over, didn't she?"
"Yes."
"I thought so. They all do that. It was her I heard all right."
"What, is such a case as this common?" Douglas asked in surprise.
"Well, I couldn't say it is common, but forty odd years in and around
this harbour afford one some queer sights. But here we are."
The boatman swung his craft around and drew it up by the side of a
tugboat which was lying at its wharf. It did not take long to lift the
woman from the rowboat up to the deck above.
"Have you a light?" Douglas enquired. "I want to see whether this
woman is dead or alive."
"Oh, she's alive all right," was the reply. "Ye can't knock the likes
of her out with a little dip like that. But I'll get the light, if ye
want it."
It did not take the old man long to bring a lantern, and when the light
fell upon the woman's face she moved her head and gave a slight moan.
"She's all right," the boatman remarked. "The best thing to do is to
phone fer the ambulance. The hospital's the place fer her. She'll
have a decent place fer the night, anyway, and they'll fix her up
there. There's a phone in the drug-store just around the corner."
Douglas realised that this was the best course to pursue and, wet
though he was, he sprang ashore and hurried up the street. It took him
only a few minutes to reach the drug-store, where he sent in a hurry
call for the ambulance. He paid no attention to the curious looks cast
upon his drenched figure by several people who were standing near. In
fact, he had forgotten how wet he was, so interested was he in
obtaining aid for the unfortunate woman as speedily as possible.
Upon his return to the tug, he found the old man keeping guard.
"How is she now?" he asked.
"Ye can see fer yourself," and the boatman swung around his lantern as
he spoke.
Douglas now had more time to observe the face of the woman before him.
Her head, resting on an old coat, turned slightly to one side, was
partly covered by a wealth of jet-black hair, forming a striking
contrast to the face which was so very white. It was a face of
considerable beauty, though lines of care were plainly visible. She
seemed but a girl lying there, and as Douglas looked at her an intense
anger smote his soul, and he longed to lay his hands upon the wretch
who had tried to destroy her.
"Why are such brutes allowed their freedom?" he asked turning toward
the boatman.
"Hey, what is that you say?" was the reply.
"I wonder why human brutes are permitted to have their freedom, and
injure a woman such as that?"
"You saw the deed, then?"
"Yes, I happened to be on the dock over there, when she was pushed into
the water by her companion. He disappeared before I could get my hands
on him."
"Oh, that is always the way. The women are the ones who suffer while
the men get scot-free. But, say, here is the car now."
It did not take long to transfer the woman from the tug to the
ambulance, and when the car had departed, Douglas turned to the boatman.
"I wish to thank you for what you have done to-night, sir. But for
your timely assistance I fear I should have had a hard time getting
ashore."
"Oh, never mind your thanks," was the reply. "I'm mighty glad that I
was nearby to give a hand. It does one good sometimes to help a poor
creature in distress. But you had better hustle and change your wet
clothes or the ambulance will have to come fer you next."
"You're right, I do feel chilly, so good-night."
"Good-night," was the reply, "and when ye want any help with that
scoundrel, just call upon Cap' Dodges, of the 'Nancy Staines.'"