Daylight was beginning to peep through the morning darkness when the
Captain threaded his way along the crooked path to the rear of his
house. He drew off his boots outside the kitchen door, and tiptoed to
his room. Without removing his clothing he threw himself on the bed. The
sunlight was streaming through the eastern windows when he awoke. He
stretched himself off the bed, and threw back the covers so that Miss
Pipkin would think he had slept there the night through. He went down to
the kitchen.
"Anything special to tell me this morning, Josiah?" whispered the
housekeeper as he entered. "How pale you look! Ain't been seeing ghosts,
have you? You look like one yourself."
"Maybe 'twas ghosts I see, but they looked purty tolerable real to me.
Yes, Clemmie, I've sartin been looking on things what ain't good for a
healthy man to see. One of 'em is that I'm a ruined man, and there
ain't no help for it."
"Don't talk such nonsense! Get out and fill your lungs with fresh air.
That cures the blues quicker than anything I know."
"It won't cure this fit. If it would, I'd had it cured long ago, 'cause
that's all I've been doing for a good many weeks. If I'd talked less and
done more I'd been a heap sight better off."
"I thought from the way you was staying up there last night that you was
doing something. I never heerd you come in at all."
"Maybe I wa'n't up there all that time. The fact is, Clemmie, I went
into the city last night."
"You went into New York last night? What did you do that for?"
"I went in and pulled a lawyer friend of mine out of bed for a little
confab. I don't mind telling you who it was. It was Harold Fox....
Clemmie, that feller that was here to see me about that mortgage lied to
me about the date it was due. Harold says the time is up on it next
Saturday."
"Josiah!"
"I also talked with another friend of mine who knew Jim purty well in
his palmy days, and he says what that letter of yours says is so. He
told me a lot more stuff, too."
"What? About Jim or Adoniah?"
"Both. What would you do if there wa'n't no way to save my place
excepting by ruination of the other feller?"
"You'd see him stop for you, wouldn't you? I'd not give it a second
thought, I'd just----"
"That ain't it, Clemmie. There's his darter, the sweetest little thing
that God ever made. It would kill her, and I ain't got no right to hurt
her just to save my own skin."
"You're right, Josiah."
"But what I'm to do, I don't know."
Mr. McGowan entered with an armful of wood, and as he stooped to drop it
into the box Miss Pipkin looked sorrowfully at the Captain and shook her
head.
"I've done my best," said the seaman, slowly.
"You'd think he was making his last will and testament from the way
he's talking," remarked Miss Pipkin, trying hard to appear as though she
was without the least concern.
"Maybe I be, Clemmie. Maybe I be."
"What's the cause for all this dejection?" asked the minister.
"Cause enough, Mack.... I'll be going back to the city to-morrow. I hate
to leave you to the wiles of the menagerie, for if I ain't terrible
mistook they're out for your blood, and they think they've got a whiff
of it. But I cal'late they've got their ropes crossed. They've got the
idea they're h'isting the mains'l, but it ain't nothing but the spanker.
If I was going to stay aboard I'd give 'em a few lessons the next few
days that they'd not forget all the rest of their lives."
"You're certainly mixing your figures in great shape this morning,"
commented the minister good-naturedly.
"Well, if mixing figures is like mixing drinks, making 'em more
elevating to the thoughts, I cal'late I'd best do a little more mixing.
There's going to be a squall right soon that'll test the ribs of the old
salvation ark to the cracking p'int. If I was you I'd furl my sails a
mite, and stand by, Mack."
"We're so accustomed to trouble now that----"
"Trouble? This is going to be hell, that is, unless luck or Providence
takes a hand and steers her through. Your Elder thinks he's on the home
stretch to winning his laurels, but if I was going to hang round here
he'd wake up right sudden one of these fine mornings to find his wreath
missing."
"Josiah, you're as wicked as you can be this morning. What on earth has
come over you?" exclaimed Miss Pipkin with deep concern.
"You'd feel wicked, too, if you was dealing with that kind. But that
there Elder puts me in mind of a tramp printer that come to work for
Adoniah one time. Adoniah was a brother of mine," he explained in answer
to a quizzing look from the minister. "Adoniah was managing a country
paper down the line then, and being short on help he took this tramp
printer on. He gave him something to set up that the editor had
writ,--you couldn't tell one of the letters of that editor from
t'other, hardly,--and that feller had a time with it. The piece was
about some chap that was running for office, and it closed up with
something like this: 'Dennis, my boy, look well to your laurels.' When
that tramp got through with it, it come back to the editor like this:
'Dammit, my boy, bark well at your barrels.'"
Mr. McGowan laughed heartily, and Miss Pipkin struggled against a like
inclination, doing her best to appear shocked.
"Josiah Pott!" she said at last. "I'd think you'd be ashamed telling
such things!"
"It ain't nothing more than what Adoniah told, and it happened just as I
spun it. You used to think what Adoniah said was all right."
The minister sobered instantly.
"But it ain't right defaming the dead like that."
"I ain't defaming no one. Don't get mad, Clemmie. Adoniah told the yarn
himself."
"Well, it ain't to his credit, and I ain't so sure he told it with that
bad word in it."
"He sartin did. That's what makes it funny."
"If you wasn't so anxious to use them words you'd not be telling such
stories, and, of all people, to the minister."
"He's heerd me say lots worse ones than that. I was telling it for
illustration. You see, Jim has got the idea that he's looking to his
laurels, and he ain't doing nothing but barking at his barrels, and
empty ones at that."
"You'd best not try to illustrate if you can't use words decent enough
to listen to," answered Miss Pipkin as she left the room.
Late that evening Mr. McGowan drew the Captain into his study. A cheery
fire was crackling in the fire-back. The minister placed a chair before
the grate and slid another near. For some time the two men sat looking
into the fire. As Mr. McGowan tossed in another stick of wood, he turned
toward the seaman.
"I did not know that you had a brother by the name of Adoniah," he
said.
"It ain't often I make mention of him. I wa'n't over fond of him. He
didn't treat Clemmie fair. Then, he wa'n't nothing but a half-brother."
"Don't tell me his last name was Phillips?"
"Sartin was.... What was that you said, Mack?"
"I didn't speak. I was just thinking."
"I'd a heap sight rather you'd speak out loud than grunt like that. What
in tarnation is the matter with you?"
"If you can throw any light on this man Phillips, I wish you'd do it.
I've heard his name mentioned twice, by two different people, with quite
different effects."
"What do you mean by me throwing light on him?"
"Tell me about him, all you know, good and bad. What does Miss Pipkin
know about him? Where is he?"
"Heave to, there, Mack! One at a time. I don't know if Clemmie has any
idea where he is now. She was purty thick with him once, and heerd from
him once or twice after he went off to sea."
"She was in love with him?"
"That's putting it purty tame. I cal'late--Say, has she been speaking to
you about him?" asked the seaman eagerly.
The minister nodded. "I'm breaking a promise to her by talking with you
about it, but----"
"Breaking a promise you made to Clemmie? How's that?"
"She made me promise to say nothing to you. But I must. This thing is
getting too interesting for me to keep my hands off any longer."
"You mean she made you say that you'd not tell me that she was in
love with Adoniah? That's funny, ain't it? Why, I knew----" He broke
off abruptly, a new light coming into his tired eyes. He leaned
forward and whispered hoarsely: "Mack, it ain't likely she's in love
with--well,--with any other feller, is it?"
"She didn't----"
"With me, for example," broke in the seaman. "You don't think maybe that
was the reason she made you give that promise, do you?" The Captain made
no effort to hide his eagerness. "I don't mind telling you that I love
Clemmie. I loved her long afore Adoniah come along and sp'iled it. He
was smarter than me, and went to school. He was real bright and
handsome. It wa'n't that Clemmie loved him, but she didn't know the
difference. And I know right well he didn't love her. He had took a
spite against me because I was left the home place, and he took it out
on me by stealing my girl. You don't s'pose she sees now that he didn't
really care----" He slowly settled back into his chair, and shook his
head. "I cal'late that ain't possible. You heerd what she said about his
sacred memory this morning. Good Lord! Why won't she ever forget!"
"She may some day, Cap'n. No man can predict to-day what a woman may do
to-morrow."
"The most of 'em are that way, but Clemmie's different from the common
run. I know I'm an old fool for wishing it, but it ain't easy to give up
the woman you love, even after long years of her saying no to you."
"You're right, Cap'n. It isn't easy to give up the woman you love."
The minister gave the fire a vigorous poke, sending a thick shower of
sparks up the chimney. The seaman glanced at him.
"Have you the slightest idea where your brother is?"
"No. I ain't heerd from him for more than twenty years, and then it
wa'n't direct. He left because he was 'feared Clemmie was going to make
him marry her, and he knew if he took to sailing the seas she'd never
foller him. Damn him! He didn't treat her square. That's why I don't
have much use for him. If he'd told her out and out that he wa'n't going
to marry her, I'd forgive him. But----"
"Did Mr. Fox know this half-brother?"
"About as well as he knew the rest of us about town. He always was sort
of h'ity-t'ity, Jim was."
"Did he know him better after they left Little River?"
"Mack, I ain't got your tack, yet. Mind telling me where you're
heading?"
"You asked me once if anything out of the ordinary took place that night
I dined at the Fox home. Do you remember?"
"Yes, I rec'lect I did ask you something like that. But----"
"You may also recall that you suggested that what happened to Mr. Fox
took place in his head instead of in his heart."
"Yes, I said that, too. But, Mack----"
"Just wait, and I'll tell you what this is all about. I had mentioned to
Harold that I was born in Australia----"
"Mack!" The Captain was out of his chair in one bound. "You born in
Australia? Why in tarnation didn't you ever tell me that afore?"
The minister looked puzzled. "My announcement had a similar effect on
the Elder."
"Go on, Mack. Don't mind me. I'm a mite narvous. All unstrung, I
cal'late."
"As I said I had just mentioned that fact to Harold, and the conversation
naturally turned back to the days of the early traders who went to that
country. Harold then told his father that the law firm, of which he
has recently been made a junior member, had put him on a case which
necessitated his going over to Australia. It seems that they had been
trying to clear it up for a long time. The case came from Sydney, and
had been referred to him because he had once spent some time over there.
It was when he mentioned the name of the client that Mr. Fox nearly
fainted."
Mr. McGowan gave the fire another vigorous poke before continuing. The
Captain slid to the edge of his chair, holding on to the sides.
"Do you know of all the movements of Mr. Fox after he left here?" came
the disappointing question from near the fireplace.
"No, I don't. But you was speaking of the case from Sydney, Mack. Who
was the feller whose name hit Jim so hard?"
"Was Mr. Fox a sailor?"
"Lordie!" ejaculated the Captain. "Jim Fox a sailor? Why, he couldn't
sail a tub in a flooded cellar."
"You mean he never crossed the ocean as a trader?"
"He done that, I cal'late, but as far as him being a sailor----" He
sniffed a contemptuous conclusion.
"How many years ago was it that he followed the seas?"
"I ain't able to say, exactly, but it wa'n't long after Adoniah left
home."
"Cap'n Pott, Mr. Fox knew your half-brother after they had both left
this country."
"How do you know that?"
"Just by putting two and two together."
The seaman took the yellow bit of paper from his pocket, and in his
excitement crumpled it into a wad. "But Adoniah went to Australia, and
Jim says he was in Africa," he said, testing out the other's fund of
information.
"I know all about that story, but I don't believe one word of it. Mr.
Fox did not make his money in Africa, and he knew your half-brother."
"What's all this got to do with that there client Harold spoke of the
last night you ate up there?"
"Everything. The man he mentioned was a trader in Sydney. He had married
an only daughter of an older trader, and then something happened. The
younger man disappeared very suddenly. The old trader searched for
years, but in vain. Recently, he died, leaving a large estate. His wife
has taken up the search for the lost daughter. It was the name of the
old trader's son-in-law that crumpled up Mr. Fox like an autumn leaf.
The young trader's name was Adoniah Phillips."
Though he had been anticipating this, the Captain fell back into his
chair and stared blankly at the minister. "But why did he act like the
devil toward you, Mack? That's what I want to know."
"I don't know. That is the thing that puzzles me."
"What more do you know?"
"Harold said that Mr. Phillips came over to this country."
The Captain again sprang from his chair as though hurled out by a
strong spring. Mr. McGowan rose to face him.
"My brother in America? Mack, it's a lie! He'd have looked me up!"
"Perhaps he had reasons for not wishing you to know about him. He may
have been an outlaw."
The minister then asked abruptly, "What connection was there between him
and Mr. Fox? That is the thing we must find out."
The Captain was trembling. "Have you seen Harold since he come back?"
"Not yet. But I intend to."
"No you don't! For God's sake, boy, don't do it!"
"But I must. I want to help you and Miss Pipkin. Then, for some unknown
reason, I seem to be a part of all this mystery, and I intend to ferret
it out."
"Mack, please don't!"
"Is it because you fear disgrace to your family name?"
"That's it!" shouted the seaman, seizing the minister by the arms with a
crushing grip. "I'll tell you the hull miserable yarn some day, when I
get to the bottom of it. But keep your hands off now! Them's orders!"
"And if I break them?"
"Then, by the Lord Harry, I'll break----" The Captain stopped abruptly.
"Mack, what be you doing in Little River?"
Miss Pipkin had been disturbed by the noise, and now opened the study
door. She looked alarmed. The swarthy face of the Captain was a sickly
green where the white reflected through the deep tan.
"Of all things!" exclaimed the housekeeper. "I s'pose I should pity the
two of you if you feel the way you look. But, for the lan' sakes,
Josiah, let go the minister's arms this very minute. You're crushing
them."
The Captain's hands relaxed and fell limply to his sides. The tense
muscles of his face eased into a silly grin.
"We was having a friendly little argument, hey, Mack?"
The minister assented.
"Then, I'd hate to see you in a real fight. Things must be going to your
head, Josiah."
"That's a fact, Clemmie, they be, but they're clearing it up."
"You need some of that liniment. Your worrying has put your stomach out.
I'll fix up a dose for you."
"No you won't neither. It ain't liniment I want, it's something for the
outside." He started for his hat and coat.
"Josiah! You're clean off in your head, going out a night like this!
It's raining pitchforks, and is past ten o'clock."
"Don't you worry, Clemmie. I ain't crazy. I've just got back what little
sense I was born with. I'm sailing my _Jennie P._ to the city.
Good-bye." Before she could enter any protest, he stooped and kissed
her.
Miss Pipkin stood as one paralyzed while the Captain snatched his rubber
hat from the nail behind the kitchen door, and slipped into his slicker.
He was out of the house before the coat was fastened about his neck.
[Illustration: Miss Pipkin had been disturbed by the noise.--_Page 261._]
"Now, ain't that a caution to saints! And us a-standing here and not
trying to stop him. He's gone plumb off in his head!" lamented the
housekeeper, dropping limply into a chair. "What ever shall I do, Mr.
McGowan? I know he's coming down with that terrible fever again. I know
it! I know it!" She wept bitterly. "There ain't been no one so kind to
me, and that cares for me like him! And I ain't never give him any
chance!"
"Do you really care for the Captain?"
She straightened, and dabbed her apron into the corners of her eyes,
attempting at the same time to marshal a legion of denials. But the
legion refused to be marshaled. She gave up, and admitted that she did
care for Captain Josiah, very much.
"Then, he'll come back, have no fear. A twenty-mule team couldn't keep
him away."
"What good will it be if he does come back, if he ain't got his
senses?"
"In my opinion he was never more sane than he is to-night. He has not
taken leave of his senses; he is not a man so easily dethroned. He has
merely taken a leave of absence from town, and all his five senses have
gone with him."
After Miss Pipkin had gone to her room somewhat comforted, Mr. McGowan
spied the yellow piece of paper which the Captain had dropped. He
stooped down, picked it up, smoothed the crumpled page, and began to
read. His eyes widened with each additional line.
"Jim and I are going into partnership over here in Sydney. It
isn't just what I'd like, but there are certain advantages. He
is a keen fellow, and I'll have to watch him pretty close. There
is an older man who has taken us into his firm, so Jim can't
have his own way. There is loads of money here, and I mean to
get my share of it.
"Jim and I are both fighting for the same girl. She is the
daughter of the old man who heads up the firm. May the best man
win, providing I'm the best man. I'll give him some run for his
money, anyway. I think I'm on the inside track for the present.
"I guess you'd better not say anything about Jim being over
here. He isn't using his own name, and says he wants it kept a
dead secret. Just what his game is, I don't know. But there are
lots just like him who are hiding behind assumed names.
"I'm too harum-scarum a sailor for a quiet home-loving woman
like you, so just forget me. Be good to----"
Here the page ended, and the remainder of the letter was in Miss
Pipkin's trunk.
Before he had finished reading, the chug-chug from the Captain's
power-boat floated in from the harbor, and the minister longed to be
with him.