That was Saturday evening. The crew of the Johnnie had been told just
after the race by the skipper that he would not need them again until
Monday. Scattering on that, some going to Boston, they could not be
got together again until Monday morning, and it was not until Monday
noon that we got away.
We fitted out as though for a Cape Shore seining trip, and that's what
we were to do in case we missed the Flamingo or could not persuade her
skipper or Maurice himself that he ought to leave her and come back on
the Johnnie Duncan. It was Clancy who had the matter in charge.
Indeed, it was only Clancy who knew what it was really all about.
We had a good run-off before a stiff westerly that gradually hauled to
the north, and Tuesday night late saw us in Halifax Harbor. It was too
late to do anything that night, but Clancy went ashore to find out
what he could. Before sunrise he was back with word to break out the
anchor and put to sea. He had word of the Flamingo.
"That girl of Dave's--it seems she's moved to Canso with her folks,
and Dave's gone there. He's probably there before this--maybe left
again. She's an old plug, the Flamingo, but she ought've made Canso
before this. He only stayed a few hours here and left Monday."
It was bang, bang, bang all the way to Canso, with Clancy swearing at
Withrow and the Flamingo and Dave Warner and the girl in the case--one
after the other and sometimes all together. "Blast Withrow and that
crazy fool Dave Warner, too. And why in the devil couldn't her folks
stayed in Gloucester--or in Halifax, at least. They ought've put a few
sticks of dynamite in her and blown her to pieces ages ago. She's
forty years old if she's a day--her old planks rotten. They won't keep
her afloat over-night if they're out in this. Why d'y's'pose people
leave a good lively little city like Halifax to go to a place like
Canso? Why?"
Andie Howe happened to be within hearing, and "Maybe the rent's
cheaper," suggested Andie.
"Maybe it is--and maybe if you don't talk sense I'll heave you over
the rail some fine day. Better give her a grain more fore-sheet. Man,
but it's a wicked night."
We made Canso after the worst day and night we had had in the Johnnie
Duncan since she was launched. Outside Canso Harbor it looked bad. We
didn't think the skipper would try to enter the harbor that black
night, but he did. "Got to go in and get news," said Clancy, and in we
went. It was as black as could be--squalls sweeping down--and Canso is
not the easiest harbor in the world to make at night.
I went ashore with Clancy to hear what the young woman might have to
say. We found her in a place run by her father, a sort of lodging
house and "pub," with herself serving behind the bar--a bold-looking
young woman, not over-neat--and yet attractive in her way--good
figure, regular features, and good color. "There, Joe, if you brought
a girl like that home your mother would probably die of a broken
heart, but there's the kind that a foolish man like Dave Warner would
sell his soul for." Then Clancy explained while we were waiting for
her to see us privately, "I don't know if she'll remember me, but I
met her two or three times in Gloucester."
When she came in she recognized Clancy right away. "How do you do,
Captain Clancy?"
"How do you do, Miss Luce? My friend, Mr. Buckley. Now what we've come
for--but first, suppose we have a little something by way of
sociability. A little fizzy stuff, say, and some good cigars, Miss
Luce."
She brought the wine and the cigars. Clancy pulled the cork, filled
both glasses, pushed one glass toward the young woman and drew one to
himself.
"But, Captain, your friend hasn't any."
"My friend," said Clancy, "doesn't drink. The last thing the doctor
said to him before we came away was, 'Don't touch a drop of liquor or
your life will pay the forfeit.' You see, Miss Luce, he's been a
dissipated youth--drink--and having been dissipated and coming of
delicate people, it's affected his health."
"You don't tell me? I'm sure he doesn't look it."
"No, he don't--that's a fact. But so it is."
"Stomach?" she asked me.
"No--heart," answered Clancy for me. "What they call an aneurism. You
know what an aneurism is, of course?"
"Yes-yes--oh, yes----"
"Of course. Well, he's got one of them."
"That's too bad. So he only smokes instead?"
"That's all. Here, Joe, smoke up."
"My, I always thought smoking was bad for the heart."
"It is--for everything except aneurisms. Smoking's the death of
aneurisms. Have another cigar, Joe. And Miss Luce, shall we exchange a
health?"
"But I never drank anything in all my life."
"Of course not. But you will now, won't you? Consider the occasion and
I'm sure you won't let me drink alone. And I've come so far to see
you, too--only of course not--Well, here's to your good health, and
may you live long and----"
The rest of it was smothered in the gurgle. And nobody would ever
think to see the way she put down hers that Miss Luce had never had a
drink of wine before.
"And now, Miss Luce, may I ask how long it has been since your friend
Dave Warner left----"
"Oh-h--Dave Warner? He's no friend of mine."
"Isn't he? Well, he's no particular friend of mine, either. But a
friend of mine--of both of us, Joe here, too--is with Dave--Maurice
Blake. Any word of him?"
"Oh, yes. A good-looking fellow, nice eyes and hair and nice manners.
I do like to see refined manners in people. Now if it was him----"
"If it was him, you wouldn't have told him to go to sea and the devil
take him----"
"I'd have you know, Captain Clancy, I don't swear."
"Swear? You, Miss Luce? Dear me, whatever made you think I thought
that? But let's have another taste of wine. But of course you didn't
encourage Dave to stay ashore here?"
"Him?--I guess not. When he said he didn't care if he never came back,
I told him I was sure I didn't--and out he went."
"O woman, gentle woman," murmured Clancy in his glass, "especially
real ladies. But Dave never did know how to talk to a lady."
"I should say he didn't."
"No, not Dave. And so his money gone he's----"
"Money? Why, he never had any money."
"Well, that's bad. Not even enough to open a bottle of wine to drink a
lady's health?"
"Bottle of wine? No, nor a thimbleful of tuppenny ale."
"That was bad, Miss Luce. Dave ought've come better heeled----
'And so his money gone he puts out to sea--
It may happen to you or happen to me.'