CABOT ACQUIRES A LOBSTER FACTORY.
The Baldwins were greatly pleased at Cabot's decision to wait over a
train; for, as Mrs. Baldwin said, a desirable guest in that
out-of-the-way corner of the world was the greatest of luxuries. White
was glad to prolong the friendship so strangely begun, and also to
escape a present necessity for leaving his work to carry Cabot to the
distant railway station, while Cola was delighted to have found what
she termed a geologic companion. After it was arranged that these two
should set forth early the following day on a search for specimens,
Cabot strolled down to the factory to learn something of the process of
canning lobsters.
He was amazed at the change effected in so short a time. When he
landed at Pretty Harbour the factory had been closed, silent, and
deserted. Now it was a hive of bustling activity, in which every
available person of the village, including women and children, was hard
at work. Fires were blazing under a number of great kettles half
filled with boiling water. Into these, green lobsters were tossed by
barrowfuls, to be taken out a little later smoking hot and coloured a
vivid scarlet. On the packing tables their shells were broken, and the
extracted meat was put into cans, to which covers, each with a tiny
hole in the middle, were soldered. Then the filled cans were steamed,
by trayfuls, to exhaust their air; a drop of solder closed each vent,
and they were ready for labelling and packing in cases. White Baldwin,
in person, superintended all these operations, while David Gidge saw to
the unloading of the "Sea Bee," and kept sharp watch on a gang of
shouting urchins, who were withdrawing the live lobsters from the
outside salt-water pens, in which they had been kept while awaiting
their fate.
White was in high spirits, for the travelling agent of a St. Johns
business house had just offered a good cash price for his entire pack.
"Of course," the young proprietor said to Cabot, as they viewed the
busy scone, "we won't make anything like what we would if we were
allowed a whole uninterrupted season; but, if they will only let us
alone for a week, I'll pack a thousand cases. Those will yield enough
to support us for a year, and before that is up I'm not afraid but that
I'll find some other way of earning a living. Now, if I can only get
sufficient help, I'm going to run this factory night and day for the
next week, unless compelled by force to stop sooner."
Cabot was already so interested that he promptly volunteered to aid in
making the all-important pack.
"I don't know anything about the business," he said, "but if you can
make use of me in any way, I shall be only too glad of a chance to
repay a small portion of the great debt I owe you."
"Nonsense!" laughed White. "You don't owe me a thing, and I don't want
you to feel that way. At the same time I should be ever so glad of
your help in getting things well started; for just now one strong
fellow like you would be worth a dozen of those children."
So, a few minutes later, Cabot, clad in overalls and an old flannel
shirt of White's, was as hard at work as though the canning of lobsters
was the business of his life. Far into the night he laboured, only
pausing long enough to go up to the house for supper; and, on the
following morning, he was actually pleased that a heavy rain storm
should postpone the trip for specimens, furnish him with an excuse for
prolonging his stay, and leave him at liberty to resume his
self-imposed task in the factory.
The storm lasted for two days, at the end of which time half the pack
had been made, and Cabot had become so familiar with all details of the
work as to be a most valuable assistant. On the third day, the supply
of lobsters on hand being exhausted, operations were suspended until
the boats could return with a new catch; and, as the weather was again
fine, Cabot and Cola set forth on their geological exploration.
It was a glorious day, with a sky of deepest blue; the hot sunshine
tempered by a cool breeze pouring in from the sea, and all nature
sparkling with joyous life. To Cabot, who had thought of Newfoundland
as a place of perpetual fog, and almost constant rain, the whole scene
was a source of boundless delight. As the two young people climbed the
steep ascent behind the village, new beauties were unfolded with each
moment, until, when they reached the crest, and could look far out over
the islanded bay, with the placid cove and its white hamlet nestling at
their feet, Cabot declared his belief that there was not a more
exquisite view in all the world.
After gazing their fill, the explorers plunged into a sweet-scented
forest of spruce and birches, threaded by narrow wood roads, and
tramped for miles, stopping now and then to examine some outcropping
ledge or gather a handful of snow-white capilear berries. But the main
object of their quest, the copper-bearing serpentine, was not found
until they had gained the summit of the Blomidon range and were in full
view of the sea. Then they came to a distinct outcrop of
mineral-bearing rock that caused the eyes of the young geologist to
glisten with anticipation.
While he chipped off specimens, studied the trend of the ledge, and
made such estimates of its character as were possible from surface
indications, his companion climbed a rocky eminence that, short of
Blomidon itself, commanded the most extended view of any in that
region. She had hardly gained the summit when she uttered a cry that
attracted Cabot's attention and caused him to hasten in her direction.
In a few moments he met her running breathlessly down the hill.
"What is it?" he asked. "Are you hurt?"
"A warship coming up the coast," she panted. "I saw it plainly, and we
must get back with the news as quick as we can."
Much as Cabot hated to give over the exploration of that wonderful
copper-bearing ledge, he did not hesitate to obey the imperative call
of friendship, and accompanied Cola with all speed back to the village.
When they reached it they found White jubilant over the extraordinary
catch of lobsters that was even then being brought in.
"Hurrah!" he cried, as Cabot appeared. "Biggest catch of the season,
and you are just in time to help pack it away. But what brings you
back so early? I thought you were off for all day."
"Oh, White, they are coming!" gasped Cola.
"Who are coming?"
"A warship. I saw it from Maintop."
"British or French?"
"I don't know. I only knew it was a warship because it was so much
bigger than the 'Harlaw' and had tall masts."
"Well, it don't make any difference," growled White, "one is just as
bad as another, and our business is ruined anyway. Why couldn't they
have kept away for three days longer?"
"What will they do?" inquired Cabot, curiously.
"I don't know," replied White, bitterly. "Either destroy or seize the
whole plant and leave us to starve at our leisure. Now, I suppose we
might as well go up to the house and tell mother. There's no use doing
any more work under the circumstances."
"I don't see why not," objected Cabot, who was not accustomed to
throwing up a fight before it was begun. "There is a possibility that
the vessel may not be a warship after all, and another that she is not
coming to this place. Even if she does, you don't know that she has
any warrant for interfering with your business. So, if I were you, I'd
go right on with the work and keep at it until some one compelled me to
stop. I say, though, speaking of warrants gives me an idea. All you
want is three days' delay, isn't it?"
"That is what I want most just now," replied White.
"Well, then, why not place this property in the name of some
friend--David Gidge, for instance--and when those men-of-war people
begin to make trouble let him ask them whose factory it is they are
after. They will say yours, or your mother's, of course. Then he'll
speak up and say in that case they've come to the wrong place, since
this is the property of Mr. David Gidge, while their warrant only
mentions that of Mrs. Whiteway Baldwin. It'll be a big bluff, of
course, and won't work for very long, but it may puzzle 'em a bit and
give the delay of proceedings that you require."
"I believe you are right about keeping on with the work," replied
White, thoughtfully; "though I am not so sure about the other part of
your scheme. Anyway, I must run to the house for a little talk with
mother, and if you'll just set things going in the factory I shall be
much obliged."
"All right," agreed Cabot, "I'll shake 'em up."
And he was as good as his word, for when, after an absence of more than
an hour, White reappeared on the scene he found the factory in full
blast, with its operatives working as they had never worked before, and
Cabot Grant, the most disreputable-looking of the lot, urging them on
by voice and example to still greater exertions. He seemed to be
everywhere and doing everything at once.
"Hello, old man! We've got greenbacks to burn, and we're a-burning
'em," he cried cheerily as he paused to greet his friend, and at the
same time dash the streaming perspiration from his face with a grimy
hand. "What's the news?"
"The news is that you are a trump!" exclaimed White, "and that in spite
of all you are doing for us we want you to grant us still another
favour."
"Name it, my boy, and if it is anything within reason, including a
defiance of the whole British navy, I'll do it," laughed Cabot.
"I hope you will, for it is something that we all want you to do very
much," responded White. "You see it's this way. I spoke of your
suggestion to mother, and she thought so well of it that I went to the
magistrate and got him to draw up a deed transferring this property,
for a nominal consideration, to a friend. Now it is all ready for
signatures, and we want you to be that friend."
"Me!" cried Cabot, completely staggered by this unexpected result of
his own planning. "You can't mean that. Why, you don't know anything
about me. For all you know I might never give the property back to
you."
"We are willing to risk that," replied White, "and would rather trust
you to act for us in this matter than any one else we know. It is a
big favour to ask, I know; but you said you felt indebted to me and
only wanted a chance to pay off the debt, so I thought perhaps--but if
you don't want to do it, of course----"
"But I will, if you really want me to," cried Cabot. "I have always
longed to own a lobster factory. It never entered my head when I
proposed the plan that I would help carry it out; but if you think I
can be of the slightest assistance in that way, why of course I am only
too glad."
So the papers constituting Cabot Grant, Esq., sole owner of the Pretty
Harbour lobster factory were duly signed and recorded; and at sunset of
that very evening our hero stood regarding his suddenly acquired
property with the air of one who is dubiously pleased at a prospect.