TRAWLERS
Schofield stood as one stupefied, staring blankly at the fateful
words.
Murder in the first degree!
Had it not been for his thorough knowledge of Nat Burns's character he
would have laughed at the absurdity of the thing and thrown the
message over the side.
But now he remained like one fast in the clutch of some horrible
nightmare, unable to reason, unable to think coherently, unable to do
anything but attempt to sound the depths of a hatred such as this.
"For Heaven's sake, what is it, skipper?" asked Ellinwood.
Code passed the message to his mate without a word. His men might as
well know the worst at once. Ellinwood read slowly.
"Rot!" he snarled in his great rumbling voice. "Murder? How does he
get murder out of it?"
"If I sank the old _May Schofield_ for her insurance money, which is
what every one believes, then I deliberately caused the death of the
men with me, didn't I? Pete, this is a pretty-serious thing. I didn't
care when they set the insurance company on me, but this is different.
If it goes beyond this stage I will carry the disgrace of jail and a
trial all my life. That devil has nearly finished me!"
Code's voice broke, and the tears of helpless rage smarted in his
eyes.
"Steady on, now!" counseled Pete, looking with pity at the young
skipper he worshiped. "He's done fer you true this time, but the end
of things is a tarnal long ways off yet, an' don't you go losin' yer
spunk!"
"But what have I ever done to him that he should start this against
me?" cried Schofield.
Pete could not answer.
"What do they do when a man is accused of murder?" asked Code.
"Why, arrest him, I guess."
Pete scratched his chin reminiscently. "There was that Bulwer case."
He recounted it in detail. "Yes," he went on, "they can't do nothin'
until the man accused is arrested.
"After that he gets a preliminary hearin', and, if things seem plain
enough, then the grand jury indicts him. After that he's tried by a
reg'lar jury. So the fust thing they've got to do is arrest you."
"Darn it, they sha'n't--I'll sail to Africa first!" snarled Code, his
eyes blazing. He strode up and down the deck.
"You say the word, skipper," rumbled Pete loyally, "an' we crack on
every stitch fer the north pole!"
Code smiled.
"Curse me if I don't like to see a man smile when he's in trouble,"
announced Pete roundly. "Skipper, you'll do. You're young, an' these
things come hard, but I cal'late we'll drop all this talk about
sailin' away to furrin parts.
"Now, there's jest two courses left fer you to sail. Either we go on
fishin' an' dodge the gunboat that brings the officer after you, or we
go on fishin' an' let him get you when he comes. I'll stand by you
either way. You've got yer mother to support, God bless her! An'
you've got a right to fill yer hold with fish so's she can live when
they're sold. That's one way of lookin' at it; the other's plain
sailin'!"
"No, Pete; this is too serious. I guess the mother'll have to suffer
this time, too. If they send a man after me I'll be here and I'll go
back and take my medicine. I'll make you skipper, and you can select
your mate. You'll get a skipper's share, and you can pay mother the
regular amount for hiring the _Lass_--"
"She'll get skipper's share if I have to lick every hand aboard!"
growled Ellinwood. "An' you can rest easy on that."
"That's fine," said Code gently; "and I don't know what I'd do without
you, Pete."
"You ain't supposed to do without me. What in thunder do you suppose I
shipped with you fer if it wasn't to look after you, hey?"
The men had finished dressing down and were cleaning up the decks.
Several of them, noticing that something momentous was being
discussed, were edging nearer. Pete observed this.
"Skipper," he said, "we've got four or five shots of trawl-line to
pick. Suppose you and I go out an' do the job? Then we can talk in
peace. Feel able?"
"Never better in my life. Get my dory over."
"That blue one? Never again! That's bad luck fer you. Take mine."
"All right. Anything you say."
Several hands made the dory ready. Into it they put three or four tubs
or half casks in which was coiled hundreds of fathoms of stout line
furnished with a strong hook every two or three feet. Each hook was
baited with a fat salt clam, for the early catch of squid had been
exhausted by the dory fishing. There was also a fresh tub of bait,
buoys, and a lantern.
A youth aboard clambered up to the cross-trees, gave them the
direction of the trawl buoy-light, and they started. It was a clear,
starlit night with only a gentle sea running and no wind to speak of.
There was not a hint of fog.
The _Charming Lass_ lay now in the Atlantic approximately along the
forty-sixth parallel, near its intersection with the fifty-fifth of
meridian; or eighty to a hundred miles southwest of Cape Race,
Newfoundland, and almost an equal distance southeast of the Miquelon
Islands, France's sole remaining territorial possession in the New
World.
Code and Ellinwood easily found their trawl buoy by the glimmer of the
light across the water. They immediately began to plant the
trawl-lines in the tubs aboard the dory. The big buoy for the end of
the line they first anchored to the bottom with dory roding.
Then, as Ellinwood rowed slowly, Code paid the baited trawl-line out
of the tubs. As there are hooks every few feet, so are there big
wooden buoys, so that the whole length of the line--sometimes
twenty-five hundred feet--is floated near the surface.
When the last had been paid out, a second anchor and large buoy was
fixed, and their trawl was "set." Next they turned their attention to
picking the trawl already in the water.
As the line came over the starboard gunnel Code picked the fish off
the hooks, passing the hooks to Pete, who baited them and threw them
over the port gunnel. Thus they would work their way along the whole
of the line.
Many of the hooks that came to Code's hands still had the bait with
which they were set.
"Must be in the bait," he told Ellinwood. "The fish wouldn't touch it.
This is no catch for five shots of trawl."
But Pete could not cast any light on the subject.
It was certainly true that the catch from the trawl-line was small
enough to be remarkable, but the men were helpless to explain the
reason.
For two hours they worked along the great line.
"There's a bare chance that the message from the unknown schooner
might be a fake, although I can't imagine why," said Code as they were
returning. "But if it is not, and the Canadian gunboat comes after me,
she'll find me here, willing to go back to St. Andrew's and answer all
charges. No escape and no dodging this time! And let me tell you
something, Pete. If nothing comes out of this except ugly rumor that I
have to suffer for, I'm going to quit minding my own business; and
I'll dig up something that will drive Nat Burns out of Freekirk Head
forever.
"A man of his character and nature has certainly got something he
doesn't want known, and I shall bring it to light and make it so
public that he'll wish he had never heard the name Schofield. By
Heaven, I've reached the end of my patience!"
If there was anything Pete Ellinwood loved it was a fight, and at this
declaration of war he roared encouragement.
"You'll do, skipper--you'll do! Get after him! Climb his frame! Put
him out of business. An' let me help you. That's all I want."
"Everything in good time, Pete," grinned Code. "First we've got to
find out how much of this is in the wind and how much is not."
Arrived at the schooner, they pitched their fish into the pen for the
first watch to dress and rolled aft for the night. Code took off his
coat and drew forth the packet that Elsa had given him, looked at it
for a moment, and threw it upon the table.
"Why in time did she send me that?" he asked himself, his voice very
near disgust. "It must have looked mighty strange to Nell for me to be
getting money from Elsa Mallaby."
He stopped short in the midst of pulling off one boot. The idea had
never struck him forcibly before. Now it seemed evident that Nellie's
reserve might have been due to the letter.
"What a fool I was not to tell her all about it!" he cried. With one
boot off he reached across to the packet under the swinging lamp and
drew the letter out of it and read:
"DEAR PARTNER:
"Here is something that Captain Bijonah will hand to you when he
catches the _Lass_. There are supposed to be one hundred and fifty
dollars in this packet (I never was much of a counter, as you
know). Now, dear friend, this isn't all for you unless you need
it. It is simply a small reserve fund for the men of the fleet if
they should need anything--a new gaff, for instance, or a jib, or
grub.
"It isn't much, but you never can tell when it might come in
handy. It was your good scheme that sent the men off fishing, and
you left the way open for me to do my little part here at the
Head. Now I want to do just this much more for the sailors of the
fleet, and I am asking you to be my treasurer. When you hear of a
needy case just give him what you think he needs and say it is a
loan from me if he won't take a gift.
"If this is a trouble to you I am sorry, but we are all working
for the good name and good times of Grande Mignon, and I hope you
won't mind. Good fishing to the _Charming Lass_, high line and
topping full! May you wet your salt early and come home again to
those who are longing to see you.
"This is all done on the spur of the moment, so I have no time to
ask your mother to enclose a line. But I know she sends her love.
It has been a little hard for her here since you left, bless her
heart; but she has been as brave as a soldier and helped me very
much. We see a great deal of each other and you can rest assured I
shall look after her.
"Always your old friend,
"ELSA."
As Code read the last paragraph his eyes softened. It was _white_ of
Elsa to look after his mother, particularly now when there would be
much for her to face regarding himself. And it _was_ white of her to
send the money for the sailors of the fleet. Even she did not know, as
Code did, how nearly destitute some of the dorymen were. He would be
glad to do what little work there might be in disbursing the sum.
"Sorry Nellie didn't seem interested when I began to talk about Elsa,"
he said to himself. "I suppose I should have told her, anyway, so
there wouldn't be any misunderstanding. Well, I'll do it next time."
He turned the lamp low and rolled into his bunk.