For a moment Dan's blue eyes flashed, his strong arm quivered. Every hardy
nerve was tingling to strike out at the insolent speaker who lost no
opportunity to fling a scornful word. But this beautiful day had left holy
as well as happy memories. Dan had knelt at Brother Bart's side before the
altar light, that through all his hard rough young life had been Aunt
Winnie's boy's beacon,--a beacon that had grown clearer and brighter with
his advancing years, until it seemed to rise above earth into the dazzling
radiance of the stars. Its steady light fell upon his rising passion now,
and his fury broke as the swelling surf breaks upon the beacon rock--into
foam and spray.
"It _is_ a sort of mix up, I must say," he answered. "But I'm out of the
bootblack business for good and all; so what are you going to do about
it?"
"Cut the whole lot," said Dud, "just as soon as I can get money enough to
do it."
"Well, I won't cry after you, I'm sure," retorted Dan, good-humoredly;
though there was a spark in his eye that told the fire was smoldering
still, as even under the beacon light such fires sometimes do.
But a stentorian shout from Captain Jeb put an end to the altercation.
"Wind's a-veering! Swing round that ar boom, matey Dan! Duck, the rest of
you boys,--duck--quick!"
Freddy was asleep, with his head pillowed safely on Brother Bart's knee.
Jim was dozing in the stern, out of harm's reach; but on Dud, seated at
the edge of the boat and fuming with rage and pride, the warning fell
unheeded. As the sail swung round there was s splash, a shriek.
"He's overboard! God have mercy on us!" cried Brother Bart, roused from
his third Glorious Mystery of the Rosary.
"Didn't I tell you to duck, ye rascal?" roared Captain Jeb, to whom a
tumble like this seemed only a boy's fool trick. "Back aboard with ye, ye
young fool! Back--aboard! Don't ye know there's sharks about in these
waters? Lord, ef he ain't gone down!"
"He can't--can't swim!" And Jim, who had started up half awake and who
could swim like a duck, was just about to plunge after Dud, when he caught
the word that chilled even his young blood to ice--_sharks_! Jim knew what
sharks meant. He had seen a big colored man in his own Southern waters do
battle with one, and had sickened at the memory ever since.
"A rope,--a rope!" thundered Captain Jeb, whose right leg had been
stiffened for all swimming in deep waters ten years ago. "If he goes down
again, it's forever."
"O God have mercy! God have mercy!" prayed Brother Bart, helplessly; while
Freddy shrieked in shrill alarm.
In that first wild moment of outcry Dan had stood breathless while a tide
of feeling swept over him that held him mute, motionless. Dud! It was Dud
who had been swept over into those foaming, seething depths. Dud, whose
stinging words were still rankling in his thoughts and heart; Dud, who
hated, scorned, despised him; Dud who could not swim, and--and there were
sharks,--sharks!
Dan was trembling now in every strong limb,--trembling, it seemed to him,
in body and soul. Sharks! Sharks! And it was Dud.--Dud who had said Dan
was fit only to black his boots!
"O God have mercy! Mother Mary--Mother Mary save him!" prayed Brother
Bart.
At the words Dan steadied,--steadied to the beacon light,--steadied into
Aunt Winnie's boy again.
"Don't scare, Brother Bart!" rang out his clear young voice. "I'll get
him."
"Dan! Dan!" shrieked Freddy, as, with the practised dive of the Wharf
Rats, the lithe young form plunged into the water. "O Dan,--my Dan, the
sharks will get you, too! Come back! Come back, Dan!"
Dan caught the words as he struck out blindly, desperately, almost
hopelessly, through depths such as he had never braved before. For this
was not the safe land-bound harbor; this was not the calm lap of the river
around the sheltering wharf; this was a world of waters, seething, surging
roaring around him, peopled with hunting creatures hungry for prey.
"Dan, Dan!" came his little chum's piercing cry as he rose for breath.
"Come back, ye fool!" thundered Captain Jeb. "He's gone, I tell ye,--the
boy is gone down!"
But even at the shout something dark swept within touch of Dan's
outstretched arm; he made a clutch at it and grasped Dud,--Dud choking,
gasping, struggling,--Dud, who sinking for the last time, caught Dan in a
grip that meant death for both of them.
"Let go!" spluttered Dan, fiercely,--"let go! Let go or we'll drown
together!" And then, as the deadly clutch only tightened, Dan did what all
Wharf Rats knew they must do in such cases--struck out with the full
strength of his hardy young fist, and, knocking the clinging Dud's
fast-failing wits completely out of him, swam back with his helpless
burden to the "Sary Ann."
"The Lord, matey, but you are a game un!" said Captain Jeb, as he and Jim
dragged Dud aboard.
"Ah, God have mercy upon the poor lad's soul! It's dead entirely he is!"
sobbed Brother Bart.
"Not a bit of it!" said Dan, scrambling up the side of the "Sary Ann."
"He's just knocked out. I had to knock him out, or he would have pulled me
down with him. Roll him over a little, so he can spit out the water, and
he'll be all right."
"Sure he is,--he is!" murmured Brother Bart, as Dud began to cough and
splutter encouragingly. "It's gone forever I thought he was, poor lad! Oh,
God bless you for this day's work, Dan Dolan,--bless you and keep you His
forever!"
"It was a close shave for all hands," said Captain Jeb, permitting himself
a long-drawn sigh of relief, as Dan, after shaking himself like a
water-dog, sank down, a little pale and breathless, at his side. "And you
were what most folk would call a consarned fool, matey. Didn't you hear me
say these 'ere waters had sharks in 'em?"
"Yes," said Dan, whose eyes were fixed upon a drift of sunlit cloud in the
distance.
"Then what the deuce did you do it for?" said Captain Jeb, severely.
"Couldn't let a fellow drown," was the brief answer.
"Warn't nothing special to you, was he?" growled the old sailor, who was
still fiercely resentful of his "scare." "Ain't ever been perticular nice
or soft spoken as I ever heard to you. And you jumping in to be gobbled by
sharks, for him, like he was your own twin brother! You're a fool,
matey,--a durn young fool!"
And Dan, who understood his old sailor friend, only laughed,--laughed
while his eyes still followed the drift of swinging cloud fringing the
deep blue of the sky. They were like the robe of the only Mother he had
ever known,--the sweet Mother on whom Brother Bart had called to save Dud.
And Dan had heard and obeyed and he felt with a happy heart his Mother was
smiling on him now.
But to Dud this thrilling adventure left no pleasant memories. He was sick
for several days from his overdose of salt water, weak and nervous from
fright and shock: there was a bruise over his eye from the saving impact
of Dan's sturdy fist, which he resented unreasonably. More than all, he
resented the chorus that went up from all at Killykinick in praise of
Dan's heroism.
Jim testified openly and honestly that the cry of "Sharks" got him, and he
couldn't have dared a plunge in those waters to save his own brother.
"I saw a nigger cut in half by one of those man-eaters once, and it makes
my flesh creep to think of it."
Even dull-witted old Neb rose to show appreciation of Dan's bold plunge,
and said he "reckoned all boys wuth anything did sech fool tricks some
times."
Good old Brother Bart felt it was a time for warning and exhortation,
which Dud found altogether exasperating.
"Sure it's on your knees you ought to go morning and evening to thank God
for bold, brave Dan Dolan. If it hadn't been for him, it's food for the
fishes ye'd be now. The Lord was merciful to ye, lad; for I'm misdoubting
if ye were fit for heaven. Though it's not for me to judge, ye have a
black look betimes, as if God's grace wasn't in yer heart. This ought to
be a lesson to ye, a lesson that ye should never forget."
"I'm not likely to forget it," was the grim answer. "I couldn't if I
tried."
"And I'm glad to hear ye say so," said the simple-minded old Brother. "I'm
thinking sometimes ye're not over friendly with Dan. It was a rough bating
he gave ye before we left the college." (Dud's black looks grew blacker at
the memory.) "But he has more than made it up to ye now, for he has given
ye back yer life."
"And what are you going to give him for it, Dud?" questioned Freddy
confidentially, as the good Brother moved away.
"Give who?" growled Dud, who was sick and sore and savage over the whole
experience, and, strange to say--but such are the peculiarities of some
natures,--felt as if he hated his preserver more than ever.
"Why, Dud!" continued Freddy. "You always give a person something when he
saves your life. Dick Walton told me that a man saved him when he was
carried out in the surf last summer, and his father gave the man a gold
watch."
"So Dan Dolan wants a gold watch, does he?" said Dud.
"Oh, no!" answered Freddy, quite unconscious of the sneer in the question.
"I don't think Dan wants a gold watch at all. He would not know what to do
with one. But if I were you," continued Dan's little chum, his eyes
kindling with loyal interest, "I'd make it a pocket-book,--a nice leather
pocket-book, with a place for stamps and car tickets and money, and I'd
just fill it _chock_ full. You see, Dan hasn't much pocket money. He
pulled out his purse the other day at Beach Cliff to get a medal that was
in it, and he had only a nickel and two stamps to write to his aunt."
"So your brave Dan is striking for ready cash, is he?" said Dud, in a tone
that even innocent Freddy could not mistake, and that Dan coming up the
beach with a net full of kicking lobsters, caught in all its sting.
"Ready cash," he asked, looking from one to the other. "For what?"
"Pulling me out of the water the other day," answered Dud. "Freddy says
you're expecting pay for it."
"Well, I'm _not_," said Dan, the spark flashing into his blue eyes.
"You're 'way off there, Freddy, sure."
"Oh, I didn't mean,--I didn't say," began poor little Freddy, desperately.
"I only thought people always got medals or watches or something when they
saved other people, and I told Dud--"
"Never mind what you told him, kid" (Dan laid a kind hand on his little
chum's shoulder); "you mean it all right, I know. But Dud" (the spark in
the speaker's eye flashed brighter,)--"Dud didn't."
"I did," said Dud. "My father will pay you all you want."
Then Dan blazed up indeed into Irish fire.
"I don't want his pay: I wouldn't touch it. You ain't worth it, Dud
Fielding."
"Ain't worth what? My father is worth a million," said Dud quickly.
"_That_ for his million!" and Dan snapped his two fishy fingers under
Dud's Grecian nose. "You ain't worth a buffalo nickel, Dud Fielding; and I
wouldn't ask one for saving your measly little life."
And Dan went off with his lobsters, in a wrath almost fiery enough to boil
them alive. Pay!--pay for that wild plunge into watery depths--the doubt,
the fear, the icy terror of hungry monsters around him! Dud Fielding was
offering him pay for this, very much as he might fling pay to him for
blacking his boots. Ah, it was a fierce, bad moment for Dan! His beacon
light vanished; murky clouds of passion were blackening dream and vision;
he felt he could cheerfully pitch Dud back to the sharks again. And then,
as still hot and furious, he strode back with his lobsters to old Ned,
Freddy, who was remorsefully following him--remorseful at having stirred
up a row,--piped up in sudden excitement:
"O Dan, look--look what's coming here to Killykinick! Dan, just look!"
Dan turned at the cry. Past Numskull Nob, making her cautious, graceful
way through rocks and shoals, was a beautiful white-winged yacht, her mast
gay with pennants. One, fluttering wide to the breeze, showed her name,
"The Polly."