A STRANGER
The ensuing week was one such as the village had never beheld. A
visitor to the island might have thought that war had been declared
and that a privateering expedition was being fitted out.
On the railroad near Flag Point there was always some vessel being
scraped or painted. Supplies brought over from St. John's by the
steamer _Grande Mignon_ were stowed in lazarets and below. Rigging was
overhauled, canvas patched or renewed, and bright, tawny ropes
substituted for the old ones in sheet and tackle.
Every low tide was a signal for great activity among the vessels made
fast alongside the wharfs, for the rise of the water was nearly twenty
feet, and when it receded the ships stood upright on their keels and
exposed their bottoms to scraper, calking mallet, and paint-brush.
In every house where father or son was expecting soon to sail the
women were busy with clothing and general outfit. There was a run on
the store carrying oilskins, sea-boots, oil-lamps, stoves, and
general paraphernalia.
All these things were gotten on credit, for there is no such thing as
a vessel returning empty-handed from the Banks, and Bill Boughton
stood sponsor for most of them.
The owners of vessels divided their time between provisioning and
overhauling their ships and the securing of crews. One rainy
afternoon, when work had been generally suspended, a number of the men
gathered inside Bill Boughton's store to wait for a let-up in the
downpour, and the subject of crews was broached.
"How you comin' with your crew, Bige?" asked a tall, lanky man of
Captain Tanner.
"First rate. Got a dozen men now an' that's about all the _Rosan_ can
take care of. At that somebody'll have to sleep on a locker, I
cal'late."
"You're doin' well, Bige. I hear Jed Martin can't round up more'n
eight, an' he's been as fur south as Great Harbor."
"D'ye wonder?" put in a third. "Jed ain't never set up grub that a
shark would eat. I sailed with him once five year ago, an' that was
enough fer me."
"Twelve men ain't much," put in Tanner. "Them Gloucester men sail with
sixteen or eighteen right along, and I've heard o' one feller put out
of T-Wharf, Boston, carryin' twenty-eight dories. Of course, them
fellers lays to fill up quick and make short trips fer the fresh
market. Ain't many of them briners."
"Don't believe there's anybody'll carry sixteen men out of here, is
they?" came a voice from over in the corner.
"Sure!" The rumble and bellow of the reply denoted Pete Ellinwood
where he sat on a cracker-box, his six and a half feet of length
sprawled halfway from one counter to the other. "There's Nat Burns's
_Hettie B._ She'll carry sixteen, and so will Code Schofield's
_Laughing Lass_--mebbe more."
"Huh! Yes, if he can git 'em," sneered a voice.
"Git 'em! O' course he'll git 'em. Why not?" demanded Ellinwood,
turning upon the other belligerently.
"Wal," replied the other, "they do say there's men in this village,
and farther south, too, that wouldn't sail with Code, not fer a
thousand dollars and all f'und."
"Them that says it are fools," declared Ellinwood.
"An' liars!" cut in Bijonah Tanner hotly. "Why won't they sail with
the lad? He can handle a schooner as well as you, Burt, and better."
"Yas," said the other contemptuously; "nobody's ever forgot the way he
handled the old _May Schofield_. Better not play with fire, Bige, or
you'll get your hands burned."
Pete Ellinwood got upon his feet deliberately. He was the biggest and
most powerful man in the village, despite his forty-five years, and
his "ableness" in a discussion--physical or otherwise--was universally
respected.
"Look here you, Burt, an' all the rest of you fellers. I've got
something to say. Fer consid'able time now I've heard dirty talk about
Code and the _May Schofield_--dirty talk an' nothin' more. Now, if any
of you can prove that Code did anything but try and save the old
schooner, let's hear you do it. If not, shut up! I don't want to hear
no more of that talk."
There was silence for a while as all hands sought to escape the gray,
accusing eye that wandered slowly around the circle. Then from back in
the shadow somewhere a voice said sneeringly:
"What ax you got to grind, Pete?"
A laugh went round, for it was common talk that, since the death of
Jasper Schofield, Pete had expressed his admiration for Ma Schofield
in more than one way.
"I got this ax to grind, Andrew," replied Ellinwood calmly, "that I'm
signed on as mate in the _Charming Lass_, an' I believe the boy is as
straight and as good a sailor as anybody on the island." This was
news to the crowd, and the men digested it a minute in silence.
"How many men ye got sailin' with ye?" asked one who had not spoken
before.
"Five outside the skipper an' me," was the reply, "an' I cal'late
we'll fill her up in a day or so. Seven men can sail her like a witch,
but they won't fill her hold very quick. She'll take fifteen hundred
quintal easy, or I judge her wrong."
A prolonged whistle from outside interrupted the discussion, and one
man going to the door announced that it had stopped raining. All hands
got up and prepared to go back to work. Only Bijonah Tanner remained
to buy some groceries from Boughton.
"Steamer's early to-day," said the storekeeper, glancing at his watch.
"She's bringin' me a lot of salt from St. John's, and I guess I can
get it into the shed to-night."
Having satisfied Tanner, he went out of the store the back way and
left the captain alone filling his pipe. A short blast of the whistle
told him that the steamer was tied up, and idly he lingered to see who
had come to the island.
The passengers, to reach the King's Road, were obliged to go past the
corner of the general store, and Bijonah stood on the low, wooden
veranda, watching them.
Some two dozen had gone when his eye was attracted by a pale, thin
youth in a light-gray suit and Panama hat. He thought nothing of him
at first except to remark his clothes, but as he came within short
vision Tanner gave a grunt of astonishment and bit through the reed
stem of his corn-cob pipe.
He recognized the youth as the one he had seen in St. John's and had
referred to as the secretary to the president of the Marine Insurance
Company.
Instantly the old man's mind flashed back to what he had heard only a
week before, which he had told Code. He stood looking after the
stranger as though spell-bound, his slow mind groping vainly for some
explanation of his presence in Freekirk Head.
He felt instinctively that it must be in connection with the case of
Code Schofield and the _May_, and his feeling was corroborated a
moment later when, from behind the trunk of a big pine-tree, Nat Burns
stepped forward and greeted the other. They had apparently met before,
for they shook hands cordially and continued westward along the King's
Road.
A few steps brought them opposite the gate to the Schofield cottage,
and Bijonah, following their motions like a hawk, saw Nat jerk his
thumb in the direction of the house as they walked past.
That was enough for Tanner. He was convinced now that the insurance
man had come to carry out the threat made in St. John's, and that Nat
Burns was more intimately connected with the scheme than he had at
first supposed.
Bijonah set down his package of groceries on the counter inside and
turned away toward the wharf where the _Charming Lass_ was tied up for
a final trimming. She already had her salt aboard and most of her
provisions and was being given her final touches by Pete Ellinwood,
Jimmie Thomas, and the other members of the crew that had signed on to
sail in her.
Tanner hailed Ellinwood from the wharf and beckoned so frantically
that the big man swarmed up the rigging to the dock as though he were
going aloft to reef a topsail in a half a gale.
"Code's in a pile of trouble," said the old man, and went on briefly
to narrate the whole circumstance of the insurance company's possible
move. "That feller came on the steamer this afternoon, an' if he
serves Code with the summons or attachment or whatever it is, it's my
idea that the _Lass_ will never round the Swallowtail for the Banks.
Where is the boy?"
"Went up to Castalia to see a couple of men who he thought he might
get for the crew, but I don't think Burns or any one else knows it. He
wanted to make the trip on the quiet an' get them without anybody's
knowing it if he could. But what do you cal'late to do, Bige?"
"By the Great Snood, I don't know!" declared Tanner helplessly.
"Wal," said Pete reassuringly, "you just let me handle this little
trouble myself. We'll have the skipper safe an' clear if we have to
commit murder to do it. Now, Bige, you just keep your mouth shut and
don't worry no more. I'll do the rest."
Feeling the responsibility to be in capable hands and secretly glad to
escape events that might be too much for his years, Captain Tanner
walked back to the road, secured his package of groceries at the
store, and made his way home to the widow Sprague's house.
For five minutes Pete Ellinwood lounged indolently against a spile,
engrossed in thought. Then he put on his coat and crossed the King's
Road to the Schofield cottage.
He had hardly opened the gate when a strange youth in a gray suit and
Panama hat came out of the front door and down the path. Pete
recognized the newcomer from St. John's, and the newcomer evidently
recognized him.
"Ha! Captain Code Schofield, I presume," he announced, thrusting his
hand nervously into his pocket and bringing out a fistful of papers.
So eager and excited was he that, unnoticed, he dropped one flimsy
sheet, many times folded, into the grass.
"No, I'm not Schofield," rumbled Ellinwood from the depths of his
mighty chest. "Get along with you now!"
"Please accept service of this paper, Captain Schofield," said the
other, extending a legal-looking document, and shrugging his shoulders
as though to say that Pete's denial of identity was, of course, only
natural, but could hardly be indulged.
"I'm not Schofield!" bellowed Pete, outraged. "My name's Ellinwood,
an' anybody'll tell you so. I won't take your durned paper. If you
want Schofield find him."
The young man drew back, nonplussed, but might have continued his
attentions had not a passer-by come to Pete's rescue and sworn to his
identity. Only then did the young lawyer--for he was that as well as
private secretary--withdraw with short and grudged apologies.
Pete, growling to himself like a great bear, was starting forward to
the house when his eye was caught by the folded paper that had dropped
from the packet in the lawyer's hand. He stooped, picked it up, and,
with a glance about, to prove that the other was out of sight, opened
it.
As he read it his eyes widened and his jaw dropped with astonishment.
Twice he slowly spelled out the words before him, and then, with a low
whistle and a gigantic wink, thrust the paper carefully into his
pocket and pinned the pocket.
"That will be news to the lad, sure enough," he said, continuing on
his way toward the house.
The little orphan girl Josie admitted him. He found Mrs. Schofield on
the verge of tears. She had just been through a long and painful
interview with the newcomer, and had barely recovered from the shock
of what he had to tell.
Code, since learning of what was in the air, had not told his mother,
for he did not wish to alarm her unnecessarily, and was confident he
would get away to the Banks before the slow-moving St. John firm took
action.
Pete, smitten mightily by the distress of the comely middle-aged
widow, melted to a misery of unexpressible tenderness and solicitude.
In his words and actions of comfort he resembled a great, loving St.
Bernard dog who had accidentally knocked down a toddling child and is
desirous of making amends. Ma Schofield took note of his desire to
lighten her burden, and presently permitted it to be lightened.
Then they talked over the situation, and Pete finally said:
"I'm sending Jimmie Thomas down to Castalia in his motor-dory to find
Code. Of course, the skipper took his own dory, and we may meet him
coming back. What we want to do is head him off an' keep him away from
here. Now, there's no tellin' how long he might have to stay away, an'
I've been figgerin' that perhaps if you was to take him a bundle of
clothes it wouldn't go amiss."
"I'll do it," announced ma sturdily. "Just you tell Jimmie to wait a
quarter of an hour and I'll be along. Now, Pete Ellinwood, listen
here. What scheme have you got in your mind? I can see by your eyes
that there is one."
"May!" cried Pete reproachfully. "How could I have anythin' in my mind
without tellin' you?"
Nevertheless, when he walked out of the cottage door it was to chuckle
enormously in his black beard and call himself names that he had to
deceive May.
He called Jimmie Thomas up from the duties of the paint-pot and brush,
and gave him instructions as to what to do. They talked rapidly in low
tones until Mrs. Schofield appeared; then Jimmie helped her into the
motor-dory and both men pushed off.
"I cal'late I'll have it all worked out when you come back, Jim," said
Pete as the engine caught the spark and the dory moved away.
Mrs. Schofield turned around and fixed her sharp, blue eyes upon the
giant ashore.
"Peter!" she cried. "I knew there was some scheme. When I get back--"
But the rest was lost, for distance had overcome her voice. Ellinwood
stood and grinned benignly at his goddess. Then he slapped his thigh
with an eleven-inch hand and made a noise with his mouth like a man
clucking to his horse.
"Sprightly as a gal, she is," he allowed. "Dummed if she ain't!"