herself upon the _Dartmoor_, for although she had faith in abundance,
it was of the usual feminine variety which is best nurtured under
pleasantly artificial conditions. The dangers of the sea, however, were
shown to be very small indeed upon a fine craft, especially within
the confines of the sounds, and she had sailed as far down the coast
as Beaufort. Here it was decided to remain for a few days and enjoy
the rural life of the tar-heel, and while Holbrook fished and hunted
every minute of the too short days, Mrs. Holbrook passed the time
aboard in pious and profound repose. It was delightful to be able to
read the texts under the bright blue sky while sitting alone upon the
quarter-deck without being interrupted by talk of guns and fishing
lines. Then the small but cleanly kirk upon the shell-road could be
visited daily, and the good old man who attended to the religious
affairs of the fishing village was more than willing to be honoured by
so distinguished a visitor. Yachts were like manna, only they did not
drop from the sky, but were not the less appreciated for that fact.
The fourth morning the _Dartmoor_ broke out her blue pennant on the
starboard spreader, showing that Holbrook had gone away for a day's
sport. John Bunyan came down to the dock and stepped aboard. Jubiter
John he was called among the pilots of the Core Bank, for he had lived
at the inlet just above the beginning of the Florida Reef. He sidled
aft and met the quartermaster, who stopped him, but as he was known
as a good pilot and had brought the vessel in behind the "bulkhead"
safely, he was allowed certain privileges. The master came forth to
meet him.
"Mornin', Cap'n," said John, slouching up and pulling forth a rank
mullet roe from his pocket and nibbling the end.
The master acknowledged the salutation with a grunt.
"Youse don't take no passengers on a yacht, hey?" he ventured.
"No," said the skipper, decisively, with the vision of the possible
passenger before him.
"Youse ain't allowed to, hey?"
"Exactly," said the Captain.
"It's too bad!" exclaimed John.
"Yes, it is," answered the Captain, heartily, his face expressing
nothing of the sorrow he might have felt at the limitations of his
license.
There was a moment's silence during which the Captain looked aft at
the reclining form of Mrs. Holbrook. She sat reading in the shade of
the after awning with a rug over her feet to keep off the chill of the
autumn air.
"Did youse ever hear of the sanctified people?" asked Jubiter John,
presently.
The Captain had not.
"Well, they live down near the Jubiter Inlet where I used to run.
There's one o' the fellers ashore here now an' he wants to go back
home. It would be a mighty big accommodation if youse could take him
with youse--don't youse think it could be done, hey? He'd pay a little."
"How much?" asked the Captain, slightly interested.
"Well, I can't say in money, but then his services air wuth somethin'.
He's an all round able man, an' he'll say the prayers fer yer."
"I see," said the Captain, with a grunt.
"There's nothin' doin'?"
"Nix," said the Captain, shortly.
"Well, naow, that's too bad. But think it over, Cap'n, think it over."
The skipper edged to the rail and sniffed suspiciously.
"If it's just the same to you, Jubiter, I'll thank ye to get to lor'ard
with that mullet roe. Whew!" said the Captain.
Jubiter John looked pained. He put the rest of the fish roe into his
pocket and turned to go. At that instant the Captain started and looked
up the dock. A huge figure of a man hove in sight and came slowly down
the shell fill towards the yawl.
The figure was dressed in black cloth of clerical cut, the broad
shoulders squared across and the hands folded behind. The stranger's
head was not visible owing to the fact that he bowed it over until
nothing but the top of a shiny tall hat showed in front of him, and he
looked almost like a huge turtle with his head drawn inside the shell.
The black tails of his coat flapped about his legs in the sea breeze
as he strode slowly down to where the _Dartmoor_ lay.
Mrs. Holbrook noticed the man about the time the Captain started up
the gangplank to intercept him coming aboard. Visitors were not always
welcome to the skipper of the yacht, and it was his duty to see what
they wanted. The Captain had hardly started well up the narrow way,
when the stranger, who had reached the inshore end of it and was about
to proceed down its length, suddenly raised his head. The motion was
not unlike that of a turtle poking forth his nose, for it increased the
man's stature a full foot, and he stopped, looking at the Captain out
of eyes that seemed to hold both a challenge and a half-hidden fear.
His shaved chin had a stubble of black hair, but it failed to cover the
great square jaw except in spots. A line of white teeth showed between
the partly opened lips, and the Captain hesitated to take in the man's
appearance more fully before ordering him off the boat. The vessel gave
a tug at her moorings and the gangplank took a sudden slue to one side.
The next instant the Captain gave a spring for the string piece of the
wharf. He missed it by a fraction of an inch and fell heavily against
the timber and overboard, landing in the water with a rousing splash.
The accident caused a cry of alarm from Mrs. Holbrook which brought
from the depths of the cabin her son Richard. He came bounding up the
companionway as rapidly as a boy of twelve could. Jubiter John stood
spellbound, looking over the side while the boy, the cook and a sailor
rushed to the rail to lend a hand and get the skipper back aboard.
The tall stranger, however, had anticipated their arrival by a few
seconds and, jumping on deck, leaned over the side and reached a long
thin arm down to the Captain, who came spluttering to the surface.
He seized the collar of the coat as it came clear of the water and
without apparent effort raised the Captain to the deck. The motion
was one of such ease, the Captain being a short, heavy fellow, that a
close observer would have marvelled at the man's strength, but in the
excitement little notice was taken of it. The stranger had saved the
Captain from the sea, and Mrs. Holbrook, who had now advanced to the
rail, thanked him warmly for his services.
The look of challenge died away from the man's eyes and one of fear
came in place. He shuffled uneasily under the woman's gaze, but finally
controlled himself. Then without a word he lifted his face heavenward
and clasped his hands before him.
"The ways o' Providence air unbeknownst," said he, slowly, closing his
upturned eyes and standing like some huge statue carved in wood. His
voice was so soft and gentle that it brought a smile to the face of
the boy who stared at him insolently. But the rest were impressed by
the man's manner and stood silently watching him until he brought his
head back to its normal position with a jerk. Then the Captain muttered
something about inquisitive strangers and went below to change, for the
air was cool.
"I am sure I should like to repay you for your bravery, Mr.--Mr.----"
began Mrs. Holbrook, "but I hardly know how to thank you, sir."
"Mr. Jones is his name, ma'am," said Jubiter John, "an' youse kin repay
him at once."
Mr. Jones looked somewhat abashed at this, and the stranger's look of
defiance came into his eyes again.
"He's the sanctified man I ware tellin' the Cap'n of jest before he
fell overboard," went on Jubiter, "an' all he wants is a passage down
the coast a ways. The settlement is down near where I used to run."
"Ah, a clergyman,--a country clergyman, I see," said Mrs. Holbrook.
"I reckon that's about it," said Jubiter John.
"Mr. Jones," said Mrs. Holbrook, "I should be very glad, indeed, to
aid you down the coast. You know the yacht is small and you might have
to sleep in the Captain's stateroom. If you would not object to that
arrangement, you are more than welcome to the voyage."
"Ah, madam," said the tall man, solemnly, in a small voice hardly above
a whisper, "I should be glad to have the opportunities you speak of,
and if the bed be rough an' hard an' the grub poor, I know it will be
the hand o' Providence what makes it so, an' I kin stand it. The ways
o' Providence air unbeknownst."
"Very well, then, we leave to-morrow morning at daylight. My husband
will be back before sundown and you may come aboard to-night," said
Mrs. Holbrook. "Won't you come aft? I am sure the walk must have tired
you. It is a long way to the village."
The tall Mr. Jones glanced at Jubiter John and then followed the lady
to the quarter-deck, where he folded up like a huge jack-knife in a
deck chair, to listen to the somewhat vague but religious conversation
of his new patron. He sat there for a full hour, seldom even answering
questions which were put to him and not offering a single sentence
of his own volition. When he arose to go, he looked askance at Mrs.
Holbrook, then he raised his face heavenward and said, solemnly: "The
ways o' Providence air unbeknownst."
He turned in a moment and went rapidly to the rail near the dock,
leaving Mrs. Holbrook staring at him.
"Ain't he a long one, say," said young Richard, "an' them legs--Gee
whizz!"
But at that instant the tall man sprang to the wharf and hurried off,
hearing nothing, and Richard received a severe rebuke.
"My dear," said Mrs. Holbrook to her husband that evening, "I have
taken the liberty of inviting a country clergyman to accompany us down
the coast. He will be here this evening and I hope you will be civil to
him."
"Huh," said Mr. Holbrook, and went on deck to smoke his cigar.
"Is he really comin' to go with us?" asked Richard.
"Yes, my dear, of course he is," answered his mother.
"But ain't he long, say?" and he bounded up the companionway to join
his father.
Before eight bells that evening the tall Mr. Jones made his appearance
and introduced himself to the Captain. As the latter had been
instructed to entertain the new arrival to the extent of giving up his
room, he received the tall man with scant ceremony.
"What's the matter wid payin' yer passage on a steamboat?" growled the
mariner, as he jerked his belongings out of the berth.
"My friend," observed the sanctified man, "it is not my wish to cause
trouble, an' I can't help it. If your bed be hard I make no complaint;
I'll try to sleep on it. If my grub is no good, I'll try to forget it.
The way o' Providence air unbeknownst."
The short, stout skipper stood looking at him a moment, but the
sanctified man beamed down upon him until he turned with an exclamation
of a somewhat unconventional sort and left the room. Then the tall man
closed the door.
In the early morning the _Dartmoor_ was cast loose from the dock and
her mainsail hoisted. Jubiter John stood near the wheel and piloted her
safely over the bar and out into the green waters of the Atlantic. Then
he left her and took to his dory to row back.
The air was crisp with the tingle of a nor'wester and the sun rose
with a ruddy glow. The sea was smooth under the land, but the little
lumpy clouds which were running away from the northward, told of wind
behind. Before the sun was well above the horizon, Mr. Jones appeared
on deck. He was dressed in his black trousers with suspenders tied
about his waist in place of a belt. His once white shirt was open at
the neck displaying a deep and brawny chest. Two long white feet poked
themselves from beneath his trouser legs in most unpoetical fashion,
but showed he was ready for the washing down of the vessel's decks. He
tailed on to the gaff-topsail halliards and sweated up that piece of
canvas until the block nearly parted from the masthead with the strain.
Even the Captain, who had spent the night sleeping upon the galley
floor, felt that he had, indeed, an able seaman in the sanctified man
who hurled buckets of water along the snow-white planks or hustled the
squeegee along the deck until the wood and seams fairly oozed water
like a sponge. The three foremast hands hurried along in his wake.
The _Dartmoor_ was fast making an offing. With all sail she was running
before the breeze which now began to get a heart in it, and the long
heave of the heavy sea coming around Cape Lookout told of something
behind it. There was a live kick and quick run to this swell that made
the skipper look anxiously to his lighter canvas, but it was his object
to get as far down the beach as possible while the wind lasted. A few
miserable hours of heavy weather and all might be well, but thrashing
down a nor'wester would cost him his job if he judged Mrs. Holbrook
correctly.
The motion brought young Richard on deck, where he stood looking at the
tall man in amazement.
"I thought you was a minister, say?" he ventured, as the sanctified man
came near with the squeegee, "an' ministers don't work."
"Well, some kinds do, sonny. I ain't just what you might call a priest."
"Naw, you look like you might be some good," said the boy. "But ain't
you a long one, say? When you get through I'll come forward and talk to
you. Ma won't care; she says she hates to have to sit around an' try to
talk to people she don't know nothin' about."
"Did she say that?"
"Sure, she don't know nothin' about you."
The look of fear came into the tall man's eyes and he squeegeed the
deck vigorously. Then he went slowly forward and put the tool away.
One of the sailors struck off six bells and the cook announced that
breakfast was ready for the Captain and the guest. As the saloon
was for the owner and his party, the meal was served in the galley,
the Captain and sanctified man sitting at the small table used to
manipulate the several ingredients which went to make a yacht's meal.
"Do you think we'll have good weather, Captain?" asked the tall man,
starting in at a plate of prepared oats.
"Naw," snapped the skipper, who still held vision of his night's rest
upon the galley floor.
"D'ye mind me sayin' a thank ye fer the vittles, hey?"
"Do yer prayin' to yerself," snapped the Captain.
The long man raised his eyes and muttered something in his soft voice.
"No matter if the vittles is bad--an' poor, I'm thankful. The ways o'
Providence air unbeknownst," he said as he finished.
"What's the matter with the whack?" snarled the Captain. "Ain't it
good enough fer yer? I'll lay it's a sight better'n you been used to
gettin', an' that's a fact."
"I didn't say it wasn't good," said the tall man, hastily, in a gentle
tone. "I only said I was thankful even if it wasn't any good."
"Huh," snarled the Captain, "tryin' to sneak out of it, hey?"
"A sanctified man never fights," said the big fellow in a small voice,
"for if he did I would break you up in little pieces."
"Well, a sailor fights an' don't you fergit it," snarled the Captain.
"You want to try the breakin' game a bit aboard here, you long-legged
sky-pilot. What the thunder d'ye call a sanctified man anyways, hey?"
"Don't ye know?" asked the tall man, mildly, his eyes taking again that
peculiar look of fear they often held.
"Naw," answered the skipper.
"Well, he's one what's been tried. A man that's been off the path an'
come back again. He's taken the oath to do no more harm--nothin' but
good. He's sanctified."
"No more harm! What harm hev ye done, hey?" asked the Captain, sharply.
"Well, I served my time out--all but three years," said the tall man,
fearfully.
"What?" gasped the skipper.
"I served my time out, nearly out. It was only fifteen years I got. I'm
all right and have papers to prove it. One of the men they thought I
killed got well again. The money was divided among my pals. I didn't
get a cent of it; no, not a cent. But the past is past. Let it die!"
"An' you calls yourself a sanctified man, you bloomin' convict, hey?
Steward, set these things somewhere else. I may not be particular as to
friends aboard ship, but I draw the line at eatin' with jailbirds."
"I never was in jail--only for a month. It was the penitentiary,"
corrected the tall man, his small voice almost dying away. There was
something very sad in his tone; something so touching that even the
steward hesitated at obeying the skipper's orders.
"An' to think," said the Captain, "that Jubiter John should play it so
badly on us."
He ate his meal in silence on the other side of the little room, while
the vessel plunged and ran down the slopes of following seas, creaking
and straining so that he soon left for the deck.
The sanctified man sat eating slowly, in spite of the motion and cries
from above, as the men shortened sail to ease the racing craft in the
sea. He was lost in thought. The memories of his sufferings were upon
him, and as the sad years rolled back, he seemed to stand again upon a
ship's deck giving orders to a crew who obeyed as only deep-water men
know how. His had been a long, hard road, indeed. The surly Captain was
forgotten and his insults were as though they had never been uttered.
While he sat there eating slowly and thinking over the past, he became
aware that the door leading to the main saloon was open. Through it he
caught a glimpse of shining silver as the _Dartmoor_ rolled heavily
to starboard, letting in a flood of sunlight through her side ports.
A huge urn or cup weighing many pounds, and of solid silver, was
firmly planted upon a shelf near the end of the saloon. Upon it was an
engraving of a yacht under full sail with the legend "Dartmoor" with
"1898" beneath. Evidently the trophy of that season and probably the
greatest she had ever won. It was a superb piece of ware, and the man
looked at it for a long time, while his face gradually took on a hard
expression and the strange look of defiance and challenge came again
into his eyes. He had suffered much, but there was something within him
that was stirred by the glint of that silver. Twelve long years among a
certain class of men had implanted new weaknesses and developed those
he had already possessed. He was forgetting himself under the flashing
of that reflected sunlight.
Suddenly he was aware of a small hand stealing within his own and he
turned with a cry of alarm. A look of despair came across his face and
his wide jaws set firm.
"I didn't mean to scare you," said Richard, glancing backward at the
steward who was busy with the morning meal. "You don't look like you
scare easily. I heard what old square-head said to you. Don't you mind
him. He'll eat with you--an' afterwards you can tell me what you done."
"Good God," murmured the man, and seized the boy in his arms.
"Don't hug me; I ain't no girl" cried Richard, and the tall man sat him
on his knee and smilingly patted his head.
"I reckon we'll go on deck," said the sanctified man, in a few minutes.
"They'll want some help reefin' the mainsail--pretty big sea to run her
under all lower canvas." And he took the lad's hand and went forward
through the forecastle to the scuttle and so on up to the sunlight
above.
The morning was now well advanced. Eight bells struck off, and the head
of Mr. Holbrook appeared emerging from the cabin companionway. The sea
was sparkling in the sunshine and the quick combers running before the
freshening breeze were covering the surface with patches of white.
The topsail had been taken in and all hands were lowering down the
mainsail to close reef it.
The sanctified man tailed on to the main sheet and soon had the boom
nearly amidships. Then the sail was lowered slowly, the men handing
in the canvas to ease it on the lazyjacks and toppinglift while the
_Dartmoor_ ran along under jigger and jib before a sea that was rapidly
shifting to the eastward. Mr. Holbrook came on deck and watched his
flying fabric, taking a hand and passing reef-points under the jackstay
along the boom, which were all carefully pulled out again and passed
under the foot-roping of the mainsail by the careful skipper.
Mrs. Holbrook decided that as the motion was very great she would
remain where it affected her the least. It would be time enough to go
on deck after dinner, when the beauties of an afternoon at sea might be
appreciated.
Mr. Holbrook soon went below to breakfast and took his son with him.
When they appeared again the mainsail was set close-reefed, and the
jigger rolled up, letting the yawl run easily with more head-sail. She
now rose on the following seas like a swan, and as she would reach the
crest she would rush wildly along the slanting side, her nose pointing
downward and the full weight of the gale in her canvas, until the sea
would run from under her, letting her sink slowly into the trough where
her canvas would flap in the almost calm spot between the seas. It was
a little thick to the westward, but although the land could not now be
seen there was a good stretch of water plainly visible.
The sanctified man stood near the wheel, looking occasionally into the
binnacle where the compass card swung a good three points each side of
the lubber's mark, as the vessel broached or paid off in the sea.
"D'ye ever adjust that compass?" he asked, mildly, of Mr. Holbrook.
"Ever what?" asked the owner, contemptuously.
"Do you ever see that the card swings true?" asked the sanctified man.
Mr. Holbrook looked at the tall man with undisguised pity. What
should a clerical man know about navigation, he thought. The poor
country clergyman was evidently a bit ignorant concerning compasses,
although every schoolboy knew that the magnet swung north and south.
He attempted to explain the matter in a wearied tone, but when he had
finished the tall man only smiled and his expressive eyes showed traces
of amusement. He said nothing. Finally he ventured:
"If I were you, I would let her head a little more to the eastward."
Mr. Holbrook walked away giving a little grunt of disgust as though
he had been holding intercourse with a lunatic. As he never spoke to
his Captain except to tell him where he wanted to go, he had a rather
lonely time on deck and took to playing with his son by sitting at one
end of the cabin-house and throwing a line to him at the other and
then pulling upon it.
The sea became rougher during the day, but in spite of it, dinner was
served in the saloon. Mrs. Holbrook appeared at last and bravely tried
to play the part of hostess to her guest. Holbrook had always shown an
aversion to piously inclined people, and a clergyman's presence gave
him extreme annoyance, as it prevented his picturesque flow of words.
As adjectives were a weakness of his, the conversation would have
lapsed into monosyllables, had not Mrs. Holbrook determined to do her
duty.
"I suppose," said that lady, "you have many sailor men in your
congregation, Mr. Jones."
The tall man looked at her sharply. He thought of his "congregation"
and wondered. Did the lady know what he was? He had not meant to
deceive any one. Jubiter John had simply asked for a passage for a
sanctified man and had not thought it necessary to go into the man's
history. His eyes held the strange look of alarm they had when he first
came aboard, and he answered in his thin voice.
"Yes, ma'am, there's plenty of sailors get in, though they are no
worse'n landsmen. It don't make much difference what callin' a man
takes, there's bad ones in all."
Mrs. Holbrook glanced at her husband, who smiled his approval.
"Do you know Mr. Brown, the pastor in Beaufort?" asked the lady.
"He must be a very excellent man--I never heard of him," said her
husband, with a touch of irony.
"I asked Mr. Jones," said Mrs. Holbrook, sweetly.
"No, ma'am, I never did," said the tall man, shooting his head upward
and looking at his host. "He never did time."
"Never what?" asked the lady.
A sharp kick upon the shin bone from young Richard caused the
sanctified man to raise a full foot higher in his seat.
"What's the matter?" he asked quickly.
"Aw, tumble," said the irreverent Richard.
Mrs. Holbrook looked at her son sharply.
"What did you do? Do you want to be sent from the table?" she said.
The young man dropped his gaze into his plate and looked abashed. His
father smiled. The meal proceeded in silence until they had finished,
when Mr. Holbrook led the way on deck with a handful of cigars.
"That wasn't a bad one on the country parson," ventured the yachtsman.
"You fellows so seldom joke, a man never knows just when you will break
out. Ha, ha, ha--'never did time'--Well, that wasn't half bad." And he
quite warmed to the tall man as he offered him a perfecto.
"But you see----"
"Yes, I see well enough. I don't blame you for kicking about such men.
Now _you_ can tail on to a sheet or pass a reef point like a _man_.
Will you have a good nip of grog before Mrs. Holbrook comes on deck?"
The sanctified man thought he would. They repaired to the forehatch,
where the steward passed up the spirits unseen.