in the bright light of the tropic sunrise the _Sea-Horse_ put to sea,
leaving the great tower of the Carysfort light to the westward.
For nearly a week no light was shown from the tower. Strangely enough,
no one reported the light out.
The sixth day a sponger, sailing past at dark, noticed the absence of
light, and went to the tower to see what was wrong.
He found it deserted, and, being a very poor man, he made his boat fast
to the piles and took possession, enjoying the fare and taking care of
the lantern in proper style for several days.
All might have gone well with him for several months, but for the fact
that the supply-steamer was due, and arrived before he thought it time
to make a getaway.
Finding the keepers missing, and no account made for them by the
inhabitant, the officers promptly accused him of murdering them, and
forthwith took him aboard the vessel to be carried ashore and tried. He
was promptly convicted of manslaughter and sentenced to imprisonment
for life.
Meanwhile, the _Sea-Horse_, having made the Bahamas, put the thieving
keepers ashore to shift for themselves. After vainly trying to get
passage back to their home, they finally managed to get a small
boat and put to sea, to make the two hundred miles or more to the
lighthouse.
They had been absent more than a month, and they arrived at Carysfort
one sunny morning in time to see the two new keepers who had been
appointed in their place take their whale-boat and start fishing along
the reef to the northward of the tower.
Seizing the opportunity, they promptly gained the lighthouse and
climbed into the landing, dropping the trap-door fast behind them.
The new keepers, seeing the strangers in possession of the tower,
hailed them lustily, and started back to inquire their business.
For answer Flanagan leaned over the railing and gazed calmly down upon
them with a quizzical look.
"What d'ye want?" inquired the tall keeper, in response to a hail.
"What are you doing in that light?" asked the new keeper.
"I am the keeper, and when you address me say 'sir,'" roared the tall
man in stentorian tones. "Tie that boat to the spiles and git away from
here, or I'll fall on top o' ye."
But the new keepers were not made of easy stuff. They gained the lower
landing, and held forth under threats and persuasion for a day and
a half, when the "howler," getting tired of their proximity, began
attacking them with hot water and other missiles, which he hove or
dropped from the platform above.
The new keepers could not get up, but they determined that the men
above should not get down, and they built a bomb-proof shelter to
protect themselves until help should arrive.
After two days, they finally gave it up and started for Miami, where
they arrived and reported the state of affairs.
The inspector came along, but found the two worthies sober, and
attending strictly to their duties.
They explained how they had been attacked by a huge smuggling vessel
bound for the North, and how, after a desperate fight, they finally had
been overpowered, taken forcibly from their abode in the light, where
they had been attending to their duties, and put ashore in the Bahamas.
They described how, after a tremendous exertion, they had managed to
get back again, only to find two strangers in possession of the tower.
Naturally, they treated them as trespassers and took charge. The light
had been kept regularly ever since, and they had no fault to find with
the job.
After listening to their tale, there was nothing to do but to leave
them to their duties, for nothing could be found against them.
Their absence from the light would have enabled the inspector to give
them their discharge, but they could prove they had not left of their
own accord. The forepart of their story would necessarily remain in the
dark, for they would not talk of it, and the crew of the _Sea-Horse_
would rather have it kept quiet. Besides, it would be more than useless
to try to find the vessel from their description. The tender steamed
away for Miami to inform the authorities of the existence of the
keepers.
"Virtue is usually triumphant," said the inspector to the judge, who
ordered the release of the convicted prisoner. "But in this case there
seems to be an exception."
"There are exceptions to every rule," quoted the judge wisely.
"Light-keepers are rare birds--trouble will probably not happen
again--I would therefore sentence them to life imprisonment in--well, I
reckon there is no worse place than the Carysfort light."
"I don't know but what you are right," said the inspector.
VIII
The Trimming of Mr. Dunn
Mrs. Dunn sat under the awning stretched over the quarter-deck of the
yacht _Sayonara_ lying in the stream, off the government coal-dock, at
Key West. It was winter, but the air was warm, and white linen duck was
the most comfortable clothing. Even the six men who composed the crew
of the trim little schooner showed nothing but white in their garments,
save the black silk ties knotted rakishly, drawing together their wide
sailor-collars. Phenix Dunn was a broker, a gambler in the productions
of others, and because of this he was wealthy. He had bought and sold
certain commodities known as stocks, and they had proved profitable--so
profitable that he had decided to take a few months away from the
excitement of the game and buy a yacht and cruise.
Mrs. Dunn was something of a beauty. That is, many men thought so. Some
women differed in opinions, especially those women whom she counted
as her friends. Anyhow, she possessed a dashing air, a figure beyond
criticism, and clothes that made Phenix say many bad words when the
bills came in. Also she had a disposition the gentle side of which had
not been overdeveloped. She was not quarrelsome. Far from it. She had
plenty of tact and ability, but the absence of children and household
cares had given her more time than necessary for the contemplation of
self, and this had not been satisfying. She worked it off by dint of
much outdoor exercise.
Dunn joined her at the taffrail and flung himself into a chair with a
show of wrath. Something had gone wrong, as it always does upon yachts
of any size where the owner is not used to the sea or its peculiar
people.
"The steward is gone, the cook is going, and here we are a thousand
miles from anywhere at all--anywhere at all, I say; and the commandant
of the yard will be aboard to-morrow with not less than twenty officers
and their wives. What'll we do about it?" he rapped out.
"Why do you ask me?--I'm not good at riddles," answered his wife lazily.
"Well, we've got to take on a couple of blacks--niggers they call 'em
here--and I don't like the idea of it. I've no use for 'em. What I
want is Japanese servants. Japanese are good. Good fighters make good
servants. You don't want a servant to think, and a good fighter never
thinks. If he did he would see something else besides glory in walking
up to a man with a gun. The Japs do that--and they are good servants. I
don't want any of these black people aboard this vessel."
"Well, what are you going to do about it?"
"I don't know," grumbled Dunn, "but when in doubt, take a drink--I'll
go and get one."
While he was below, a dingy-looking vessel came slowly in the northwest
channel. She was a heavily built sloop, and upon her deck lounged
a rather numerous crew. They were picturesque, half-clothed in
nondescript rags, their bare arms and shoulders seeming impervious to
the rays of the torrid sunshine, for along the Florida reef, even in
winter, the sun is burning.
The craft dropped anchor about twenty fathoms astern of the yacht,
and when Dunn came from below, bringing with him an odour of gin and
bitters, the crew of the sloop regarded him silently.
"Hello, a wrecker!" exclaimed Dunn.
His sailing-master had come to the taffrail and was gazing at the
stranger, while Mrs. Dunn, careless of nautical neighbours, read her
magazine.
"Yes, seems like one of the wreckers," said Captain Smart; "an
ugly-looking crew, for a fact. They say these spongers divide their
time between wrecking and smuggling. Not that either's bad if indulged
in moderately, but they are apt to get loose after awhile and do queer
things."
"There ought to be plenty of good in a wrecker, if he plied his trade
right--ought to save lives and property," said Dunn. "Let's have a look
through the glass."
The men of the wrecking-sloop gazed back insolently at the yachtsman,
and a giant black man among them rose up, placed his fingers in line,
and applied the thumb of one hand to his big, flat nose, wiggling his
huge digits in derision.
"That fellow is a corker," said Dunn, watching the wrecker
good-humouredly.
"He's a big one, all right," assented Smart, "and I reckon they don't
like us looking so hard at 'em."
"Lower a boat and send over for that fellow--I want him," said Dunn.
The captain looked at him for a moment. "I go ashore for Miss Marion
Harsha in a few minutes," he said. "Mrs. Dunn gave the order. If you
say so, I'll let the gig go for the wrecker afterward--go myself in
her."
The yacht skipper was about forty, and slightly grizzled, his tanned
face lined from work and exposure in more than one hard-run merchant
vessel. But he made a rather good-looking yacht captain when dressed in
his blue broadcloth coat with gold-braided cuffs, white duck trousers,
and white canvas shoes. His cap bore the flag of Mr. Dunn upon its
front, and was the only badge of dependence about him.
"All right, go ahead when you're ready; I'm in no hurry," said the
owner. "Only I want to see that big nigger who was insolent enough
to poke his fingers at me. Seems like he'd make a good man aboard
here--steward, maybe, or even cook, if he knows how to do the work.
They say these Southern darkies know how to cook like a French
chef--and maybe his wife takes in washing. Get him, bring him
in--there's some one waving on the dock now."
"Bring the gig to the starboard gangway," ordered Smart; and two men
swung into her from the boom-end and dropped her aft. In a moment the
captain was on his way to the dock.
Miss Harsha was young, stout, pug-nosed, and short-haired, but she
dressed well and swung her parasol daintily as she walked down the
dock end beside a uniformed marine officer from the yard. At the
landing-steps the officer assisted her into the gig, talking so
interestedly that she failed to notice the yacht captain until he took
her hand and helped her into the cushions in the stern-sheets. She
suddenly dropped his hand, started, and stared at him a moment.
"You--you--what are you doing here?" she stammered.
"I'm to bring you aboard--Mrs. Dunn's orders," said Smart.
"Er--yes, I suppose so. Oh, good-bye, Major Simson, we'll see you
to-morrow; you must come aboard, you know. Nice little boat--so
different from a ship, and Miss Jennings will be there. Good-bye."
The officer bowed low, waved his helmet, and started back as the small
boat pulled away.
"I thought you were still aboard the liner--the _Ampersand_," said Miss
Harsha casually, as she edged away to give the captain room to steer.
"No, I left the next voyage. I was taught that a ship's officer was not
in the class I supposed him to be."
"Please don't," interrupted the girl. "You know, or ought to know,
the difference between a common sailor--a mate of a transatlantic
steamer--and a naval officer. I hoped to spare your feelings, but you
would not listen to me. I am the daughter of a naval officer. You are
very little different from Mr. Dunn's butler, socially speaking. You
wear his livery----"
"A very pretty uniform it is," suggested the skipper, interrupting and
smiling complacently at her.
"You must pardon me if I hurt your feelings, but it seems necessary for
me to make myself plainly understood----"
"Oh, I understand you thoroughly," said Captain Smart gently. "You are
away above me--high up. I know I'm only a sailor. So was my father.
But I'm not a bit ashamed of it. I work for my living. I have no kind
Uncle Sam to provide for me that I may loaf about in white duck and
seek diversion among the fairer sex. You'll excuse me if I cannot hold
a poorer opinion of myself than I do of many of those who wear the
country's livery and draw pay for it. They are mostly good fellows--but
there are others."
"But you won't understand. It isn't that. It's the--well, we won't
discuss it any further. I know you are too much of a man to make me
uncomfortable aboard the yacht. If you do, I shall have to speak to
Mr. Dunn."
Captain Smart chuckled softly. He seemed to enjoy the situation very
much, but he said no more, for the men rowing were beginning to listen
to the conversation. He swung the boat alongside with precision, and
assisted the girl up the companion.
Aboard the wrecker the crew watched these proceedings with interest.
The big mate bit off a piece of tobacco and settled himself comfortably
in the sun upon the deck, with his head just above the rail.
"Here comes the boat for us," grinned Captain Sanders, poking his head
out of the cuddy. The rest grinned silently in turn.
Captain Smart came alongside, and the big mate rose to a sitting
position at the rail, squirting a stream of tobacco over the side,
barely missing the gig.
"Mr. Dunn, the owner of the _Sayonara_, would like to see you aboard
the schooner," said Smart, addressing the black.
"What fur?" growled the giant.
"Oh, he has some business, I suppose--will you come?"
Sanders winked at his mate, and a Dutchman named Heldron nudged him in
the ribs.
"Sho', I'll come," said the mate.
"Me, too," said Sanders, winking hard at the rest. "I'm the captain of
the wreckin'-sloop _Sea-Horse_, an' it's no more'n proper for me to pay
my respect to his nibs. This here little black boy"--pointing to the
black giant--"is my first officer. They calls him Bahama Bill. He's a
bad man to call out o' his name."
Bahama Bill frowned and his ugly face leered for a moment at the crew
on deck. Then he swung easily over the side and dropped with a crash
into the small boat. Some of the men sniggered, but Sanders gave them a
look and followed.
"Shove off," said Smart, and in a moment the gig was heading for the
yacht.
Upon the deck of the schooner the captain and mate of the _Sea-Horse_
seemed slightly out of place, but Bahama Bill swaggered aft with an
air that had little retirement or modesty about it, and his skipper
followed behind him.
The giant mate was much amused by the immaculate decks, the new
rigging, and, above all, the spotless clothes of the crew. He knew
a good ship, and this toy, this playship of the rich Northerner was
much to his liking, for the _Sayonara_ was strongly built and had much
valuable material in her building.
Dunn was sitting under the awning aft when the visitors were announced.
Sanders, hat in hand, stood awkwardly smiling and smirking at the
ladies, but his mate cocked his cap over his ear and leered savagely at
the owner.
"You sent fur us, cap--an' here we is," said he.
Dunn had been watching them for several seconds.
"Yes, yes, my good man, I wanted to see you," he said. "Do you know of
any one who wants a job cooking aboard here? I heard there were some
good sea-cooks knocking about these keys, perhaps you're one--what?"
"Does I look like a cook?" said Bahama Bill, staring at him.
"Most certainly not, but appearances are sometimes deceptive. Maybe you
know of one--what?"
"I does," said Bill.
"Can you get him aboard here to-day?" asked Dunn.
"I cayn't--nussur. I cayn't."
"Why not? I'll give good pay--fifty dollars. Steady job, if they make
good."
"Well, de onliest good cook I knows is 'Scrappy Jule,' dey calls
her----"
"Oh, no, she won't do; we don't want any disrep----"
"She's my wife," went on Bill, with a smoothness in his tone that made
his captain smile broader than ever, "an' don't reckon she'll come
abo'd no boat onless hit's me dat takes her."
"Perhaps she'll do some washing for us, then?"
Bill stared at the yachtsman for nearly a minute, and the smile died
away from Sanders' face.
"Look here, yo' white man, did yo' send fur us to come ober heah to
listen to a lot ob nonsense?" said Bill solemnly. "What yo' takes me
fur, anyhow? We comes ober to take a drink an' pass de time o' day like
ship's officer, an' yo' begins wid a lot o' foolishness 'bout cooks
an' washerwomen. What yo' reckon I am?"
"Good heavens! Captain Smart, come here a minute," called Mr. Dunn,
while the two ladies who were near enough to hear the last part of the
conversation sat staring at the wreckers in amazement.
"Take these men forward and give 'em liquor," said Dunn, as his skipper
came aft, "and then send them back aboard their craft. They won't suit
us."
"You men come with me," said Smart, motioning to Sanders and Bahama
Bill. His tone was quiet, but there was no mistaking its meaning. He
had seen enough of them, and would put them back aboard their craft.
He had known from the first that it was a mistake to have brought
them. They were a rough, independent type who respected no one, a type
that had furnished the worst class of buccaneers and pirates some
generations before. The West Indies had been infested with them for
years, and these wreckers, the descendants of the wild seamen of the
Spanish Main, were not the kind of men for a yacht.
Bahama Bill glared sourly at the men forward as he made his way to the
gangway followed by Sanders.
"I don't drink with no such po' white men as yo'," said the giant. "Yo'
kin put me back abo'd the _Sea-Horse_--sorry I came."
"I'll take a pull afore I go," put in Sanders. "Bring out yer pizen
an' let's have a try at it. I seen more onsociable fellers than your
owner--but I can't quite call to mind jest where."
"You ought to know yachtsmen, captain," said Smart. "There's a
difference between them and seamen. I'll drink with you, if you don't
mind."
"Naw, yer needn't. I don't want nothin' more to do with yer--see? I
drinks alone."
Smart took a bottle of liquor from the boy, who had brought it from the
cabin and poured a tumblerful, handing it to Sanders.
"Drink, and make your getaway," he said.
Sanders tossed off the glassful, and looked hard at him.
"I'll go when I git good an' ready," he said. "Don't give me none o'
your slack, or I'll take it out o' yer." Then he flung the dregs of the
liquor into Smart's face.
The sting of the fiery stuff blinded the captain for an instant, but it
also angered him enough to do a foolish thing. He brought the bottle
down upon the wrecker's head and stretched him upon the deck. The next
instant he was seized by the giant black man and flung like a coil of
rope into the scuppers.
"Don't make no rough-house, or you'll be sorry. Put us abo'd the
_Sea-Horse_," said the big mate.
Dunn had rushed for the cabin at the first signs of a fracas, and now
came forward with a rifle held in readiness.
Smart saw that any further strain would result in bloodshed, and he was
used to handling men. With strong self-control he sprang to his feet
and held up his hand to Dunn. Then he called for the boat in a natural
tone, and the men who had witnessed the trouble obeyed.
The yacht's deck was not the place for an affair of force. Captain
Smart knew it at once and deplored his action. In a second he could
precipitate a fight that would be fatal to at least one or more men,
for Dunn was an excellent shot and exceedingly quick. The mate of
the _Sea-Horse_ cared as little for the rifle as for a cane, if he
once broke loose. Even Sanders would not hesitate to face any kind of
weapon. The two wreckers were ushered over the side and rowed back to
their craft.
Bahama Bill was sullenly silent all the afternoon. Something, an
indefinable something of refinement, of an air above what he had been
used to, had kept him from an outbreak aboard the yacht. He had many
times gone forth on the beach and made rough-house for the sport of
it, handling half a dozen tough longshoremen, armed and unarmed. On
the _Sayonara_ the presence of the ladies had kept him in check. He
could not quite understand it. Sanders had less control of himself, and
growled out vengeance during the hours of daylight. When it grew dark
he took his mate to one side.
"When the tide turns we'll rake her--hey?" he said.
"I dunno--I cayn't quite make up my mind," said Bill.
"Feared?"--with a sneer.
"Feared o' what?" asked the black man.
"Oh, I dunno. I reckon the captain, or the owner--hey?"
Bahama Bill spat disdainfully over the side into the dark water where
the phosphorus shone in the ripples. He sat for an hour upon the rail,
and the rest of the crew watched him, for they knew pretty well what
was coming.
After supper the big mate went on deck. Heldron brought him a hook, a
powerful instrument with a long tooth that would reach well into the
seams of a vessel and pull out any calking that might be there. Sanders
took out a fine steel bar, a regular jimmy, and joined them. The rest
of the crew remained below and played checkers or cards, making no
comment whatever.
The giant mate took the bar and hook and slid gently over the side, and
the next instant they saw a thin line of fire, his wake, leading toward
the yacht.
Aboard the yacht the incident of the afternoon was almost forgotten.
Miss Harsha played the piano and Mrs. Dunn sang sea songs, while Dunn
smoked and applauded alternately. The men were all below, and only
Smart and his mate, a tall Yankee sailor from Maine, sat on deck, for
the air was chill.
"Looks like we'll have a bit o' weather coming along soon," said the
mate to Smart; "heavy bank makin' to th' north'ard."
The captain smoked in silence. He thought of the scene on deck that
day, and he felt more than ever that Miss Harsha had reason to feel
displeased at his attentions. He remembered the nights upon the liner
when he had taken the girl for walks against the rules of the company,
the usual ending of such affairs, and the cold-blooded manner in which
she had sent him off. He was occupied intensely with his thoughts and
keenly disgusted. In the dark water alongside a large fish seemed to
make considerable disturbance and attracted his attention. He went to
the rail and looked over, and instantly the creature, whatever it was,
sank below the surface. Then he went back and smoked.
Bahama Bill, the wrecker, had reached the yacht and had started to work
her seams about three strakes below the water-line. It was his business
to drag out the oakum and spread the seam, leaving nothing but a bare
thread to keep the water from coming into the hull.
It was an old game, but new to the vicinity and victims. When the
vessel filled and sank, which she would surely do if not docked at
once, the wreckers would be on hand to claim their salvage. As this
would amount to about one-third the value of the yacht, it would be
worth while. Even if the marks of bar and hook were discovered, no one,
unless an expert in the methods of the reefers, would suspect what had
caused the trouble. No one could possibly give any testimony of any
value against the wreckers.
They would board her boldly at just the right moment, and, knowing her
condition, would have no rivals on hand. Her salvage would ease the
pain of the insults they had received at the hands of her owner. He
wouldn't drink with them--what? He would wish he had drunk many bottles
before they were through with him, the rich bum. Who was he to put on
airs to them?
The giant black diver had raked the seam and then swung his weight
upon the bar. The two-inch planking of the small vessel gave to his
tremendous strength. His head, a foot beneath the surface, kept him out
of sight while he worked, but he had to raise it clear every little
while to breathe. At these times he turned his eyes upward and tried to
pierce the gloom, letting just his nose come out, and drawing breath
ready for instant disappearance should any one be looking over the side.
It was desperate work, toiling there in the tideway, and, in spite of
his power, he found that he must rest after the first seam had been
raked to the bends. He jammed the bar fast in a seam and clung to it,
lying at full-length and letting his body float with the current.