CAPTAIN BRIGGS FINDS THE WAY
The full significance of the curse burning deep into his brain, old
Captain Briggs sat there on the bed a moment longer, his eyes fixed on
the slip of paper. Then, with a new and very strange expression, as
of a man who suddenly has understood, has chosen and is determined,
he carefully folded the paper and thrust it into the pocket of his
bathrobe. He stood up, peered at Ezra, advanced and laid a hand upon
the old man’s shoulder.
“Ezra,” said he in a deep voice, “there’s times when men have got to
_be_ men, and this is one of ’em. You and I have gone some pretty
rough voyages in years past. I don’t recall that either of us was ever
afraid or refused duty in any wind or weather. We aren’t going to now.
Whatever’s duty, that’s what we’re going to do. It’ll maybe lead me to
a terribly dark port, but if that’s where I’ve got to go, as a good
seaman, so be it.
“And now,” he added in another tone, “now that’s all settled, and no
more to be said about it.” Affectionately he patted the shoulder of the
broken-hearted Ezra. “Come, brace up now; brace up!”
“Cap’n Briggs, sir,” choked Ezra, distraught with grief, “you ain’t
goin’ to believe what Master Hal said, be you? He accused himself o’
stealin’ that there money, to pertect me. It was really _me_ as done
it, sir, not _him_!”
“We won’t discuss that any more, Ezra,” the captain answered, with
a smile of deep affection. “It doesn’t much signify. There’s so much
more to all this than just one particular case of theft. You don’t
understand, Ezra. Come now, sir; pull yourself together! No more of
this!”
“But ain’t you goin’ to do anythin’ to bring him back, cap’n?” asked
the old man. He got up and faced the captain with a look of grief and
pain. “That there boy of ourn, oh, he can’t be let go to the devil this
way! Ain’t there nothin’ you can do to save him?”
“Yes, Ezra, there is.”
“Praise God fer that, cap’n! You hadn’t ought to be too hard on Hal.
You an’ me, we’re old, but we’d oughta try an’ understand a young un.
Young folks is always stickin’ up the circus-bills along the road o’
life, an’ old uns is always comin’ along an’ tearin’ ’em down; an’ that
ain’t right, cap’n. You an’ me has got to understand!”
“I understand perfectly,” smiled the captain, his eyes steady and calm.
“I know exactly what I’ve got to do.”
“An’ you’ll do it?” Ezra’s trembling eagerness was pitiful. “You’re
going’ to do it, cap’n?”
Alpheus Briggs nodded. His voice blended with a sudden furious gust of
wind as he answered:
“I’m going to do it, Ezra. I’m surely going to.”
“An’ what _is_ it?” insisted Ezra. “Run after him an’ bring him back?”
“Bring him back. That’s just it.”
“Praise the Lord!” The old man’s eyes were wet. “When? When you goin’
to do it?”
“Very soon, now.”
“You got to hurry, cap’n. We mustn’t let anythin’ happen to our Hal.
He’s run kinda wild, mebbe, but he’s everythin’ we got to love. Ef you
can git him back agin, we’ll be so doggone good to him he’ll _hafta_
do better. But you mustn’t lose no time. Ef he gits aboard that there
_Kittiwink_ an’ tries to make sail out through the Narrers, he’s like
as not to git stove up on Geyser.”
The captain smiled as he made answer:
“I sha’n’t lose any unnecessary time, Ezra. But I can’t do it all in a
moment. And you must let me do this in my own way.”
The old man peered up at him through tears.
“You know best how to chart this course, now.”
“Yes, I believe I do. To save that boy, I’ve got to make a journey, and
I’ll need a little time to get ready. But just the minute I _am_ ready,
I’ll go. You can depend on that!”
“A journey? I’ll go too!”
“No, Ezra, this is a journey I must take all alone.”
“Well, you know best, cap’n,” the old fellow assented. “But ef you need
any help, call on!”
“I will, Ezra. Now go to your room and rest. You’re badly used up.
There’s nothing you can do to help, just now.”
“But won’t you be wantin’ me to pack y’r duffel? An’ rig Bucephalus?”
“When I want you, I’ll let you know,” smiled Briggs. With one hand
still on the old man’s shoulder, his other hand took Ezra’s in a strong
clasp.
“Ezra,” said he, “you’ve always stood by, through thick and thin, and I
know you will now. You’ve been the most loyal soul in this whole world.
No needle ever pointed north half as constant as you’ve pointed toward
your duty by Hal and me. You’re a man, Ezra, _a man_—and I’m not
ashamed to say I love you for it!”
His grip tightened on the old man’s hand. For a moment he looked square
into Ezra’s wondering, half-frightened eyes. Then he loosened his
grasp, turned and walked from the room.
Along the hall he went, and down the stairs. His face, calm, beatified,
seemed shining with an inner light that ennobled its patriarchal
features.
“Thank God,” he whispered, “for light to see my duty, and for strength
to do it!”
As he reached the bottom of the stairs, the front door opened, and Dr.
Filhiol staggered in, admitting a furious gust of wind and rain. With
great difficulty he was managing himself, holding the injured dog.
Ruddy was yelping; one leg hung limp and useless.
For a tense moment the doctor confronted Briggs. He pushed the door
shut, with rage and bitterness.
“And you, sir,” he suddenly exclaimed, “you go against my orders; you
leave your bed and expose yourself to serious consequences, for the
sake of a beast—who will do a thing like _this_!”
Furiously he nodded downward at the dog.
The captain advanced and, with a hand that trembled, caressed the rough
muzzle.
“Hal?” asked he, under his breath. “This, too?”
“Yes, this! Nearly killed the poor creature, sir! Kicked him. And that
wasn’t enough. When the dog still tried to follow him, grabbed him
up and dashed him down on the steps. This leg’s broken. Ribs, too, I
think. A miracle the dog wasn’t killed. Your grandson’s intention was
to kill him, all right enough, but I guess he didn’t want to take time
for it!” Filhiol’s lips were trembling with passion, so that he could
hardly articulate. “This is horrible! Injury to a man is bad enough,
but a man can defend himself, and will. But injury to a defenseless,
trusting animal—my God, sir, if I’d been anything but a cripple, and
if I’d had a weapon handy, I’d have had your grandson’s blood, so help
me!”
The captain made no answer, but set his teeth into his bearded lip. He
patted the dog’s head. Ruddy licked his hand.
“Well, sir?” demanded Filhiol. “What have you to say now?”
“Nothing. Hal’s gone, and words have no value. Can you repair this
damage?”
“Yes, if the internal injuries aren’t too bad. But that’s not the
point. Hal, there, goes scot free and—”
Alpheus Briggs raised his hand for silence.
“Please, no more!” he begged. “I can’t stand it, doctor. You’ve got to
spare me now!”
Filhiol looked at him with understanding.
“Forgive me,” said he. “But help me with poor old Ruddy, here!”
“Ezra can help you. On a pinch, call in Dr. Marsh, if you like.”
“Oh, I think my professional skill is still adequate to set a dog’s
leg,” Filhiol retorted.
“And you don’t know how grateful I am to you for doing it,” said the
captain. “I’m grateful, too, for your not insisting on any more talk
about Hal. You’re good as gold! I wish you knew how much I thank you!”
The doctor growled something inarticulate and fondled the whimpering
animal. Alpheus Briggs forced himself to speak again.
“Please excuse me now. I’ve got something very important to do.” His
hand slid into the pocket of his bathrobe, closed on the paper there,
and crumpled it. “Will you give me a little time to myself? I want an
hour or two undisturbed.”
The temptation was strong on the captain to take the hand of Filhiol
and say some words that might perhaps serve as a good-by, but he
restrained himself. Where poor old Ezra had understood nothing,
Filhiol would very swiftly comprehend. So Alpheus Briggs, even in this
supreme moment of leave-taking, held his peace.
The doctor, however, appeared suddenly suspicious.
“Captain,” he asked, “before I promise you the privacy you ask, I’ve
got one question for you. Have you overheard any of Hal’s reading
lately, or have you seen any of his translations from the Malay?”
By no slightest quiver of a muscle did the old man betray himself.
“No,” he answered. “What do you mean, doctor? Why do you ask?”
“That’s something I can’t tell you,” said Filhiol, thankful that no
hint had reached Briggs concerning the curse. Swiftly he thought. Yes,
it would well suit his purpose now to get the captain out of the way.
That would give Filhiol time to run through the litter of papers in
Hal’s room, and to destroy the translation that might have such fatal
consequences if it should come into the captain’s hands.
“Very well, sir,” said he. “Take whatever time you need to settle
matters relative to Hal’s leaving. By rights I ought to order you back
to bed; but I know you wouldn’t obey me now, anyhow, so what’s the
use? Only, be reasonably sensible, captain. Even though Hal _has_ made
a fearful mess of everything, your life is worth a very great deal to
lots of people!”
The captain nodded. Filhiol’s admonitions suddenly seemed very trivial,
just as the world and life itself had all at once become. Already
these were retreating from his soul, leaving it alone, with the one
imperative of duty. At the last page of the book of life, Alpheus
Briggs realized with swift insight how slight the value really was of
that poor volume, and how gladly—when love and duty bade him—he could
forever close it.
“We’ll talk this all over in the morning, doctor,” said he. “But till
then, no more of it. I’ve got to get my bearings and answer my helm
better before I’ll know exactly what to do. You understand?”
“Yes, captain, I think I do,” answered the doctor, with compassion. He
said no more, but hobbled towards the kitchen, there to summon Ezra and
do what could be done for Ruddy.
Thus Captain Briggs was left alone. Alone with the stern consummation
of his duty, as he saw it.