of reefers, and he was free to make use of the Scriptures--too free
entirely to suit the orthodox ecclesiastics of Key West. Over the sign
of "The Cayo Huesso" the legend ran thus: "As it was in the beginning,
it is now," showing that Journegan was not a reformer at all, but
believed in the Bible and the true creed. And the worst of it all
was that he was accurate in his quotations; not only accurate, but
invincible and gifted with that terrible weapon--an unfailing memory.
"Why do you use such blasphemy?" asked a divine, shocked at the sign
and its motto.
"I was taught that there creed by a better man than you, suh, and he
said: 'As it ware in the beginning, it is now, an' ever shall be, world
without end. Amen.' I heard ye say them same words onct when I 'tended
meetin'. What ye got agin' 'em, hey?"
"Nothing at all--nothing at all."
"Then cl'ar out. Git erlong. Don't come makin' no trouble fer me. I
don't ask ye to drink--git away."
"Yes, sir," went on Journegan, turning to an approaching customer.
"It's the same now as it always ware--same as it ware in the
beginning--always shall be just the same--human nature never changes,
not at all. There'll always be the bad, and always be the good. The bad
are the strong gone wrong. The good are the weak tryin' to make good;
sometimes they're strong too, but very seldom. Strength and goodness
don't go together except in rare cases, but when a good man's strong,
he's sure nuff strong.
"Ye see, we've all got a livin' to make. We hire men to study religion
for us and pay 'em to preach it out of pulpits--yes, sir, actually pay
'em to git up and preach about th' Gospel as if you or me couldn't
read or write! What's the sense? What's the sense of paying a man for
doing something you can do yourself just as well? If salvation depends
on a fellow's ability to translate the Gospel, then it's a mighty
poor Gospel for poor folk--but it don't. It's a good livin' they make
preachin', and I for one don't take no offense at a feller chargin' for
his talk; not that he knows any more than you or me--'cause he can't
know a blame bit more--but we've all got to live, an' the feller what
talks has to live, too. Let him live by talk. Let me live by sellin'
things. I don't ask no favours, but I don't want no guy what jest talks
an' talks fer money to come around an' bother me--that's all; yes,
that's erbout all, I reckon."
You will see that Journegan was very popular with the strong men who
worked and very unpopular with the men who preached.
"Your head is as long as your body," admitted Captain Smart, entering
the gilded hall. "What you say goes, Stormalong--gimme a drink."
"Goin' to meet the ship?" asked Journegan.
"Yep, I'm goin' back in her if I get the chance," said Smart. "I've
been on the beach here a week now. Dunn settled up his wrecking bill
with that fellow 'Bahama Bill' and Captain Sanders and their gang, and
that lets me out. I'm out a good berth. She was a fine yacht."
"'Twasn't your fault you lost her, I heard tell," said Journegan, with
a leer.
"I did all I could," admitted Smart, "but I lost her, just the same.
There is no excuse for the loser, you know."
"Yep, I knows well enough," said Journegan slowly, as if thinking over
something. "'Peared to be leakin' badly all o' a sudden-like, hey?"
"Yes, started to leak during the blow, or just before it. A bit of hard
luck you may say."
"Well, you'll know more about the reef if you stay here a while."
There was some strange meaning in Stormalong's tone, and it was not
lost on Smart.
"You are the second man who has said something to that effect," said
the seaman. "Now, what the devil do you mean by it?"
"Oh, nothing much. No use getting worked up by what I said. You don't
know much about the ways of folk along the reef and bank. That's
all--there goes the whistle of the liner."
A deep-toned siren roared out over the quiet waters of the reef,
sounding far away to sea, and seemed to be coming from some distant
point to the southward. Smart recognized it as the call of his ship,
the ship he had left months before for the sake of a woman.
He drank off his liquor and started for the dock, making his way along
the white roadway and joining the throng of Conchs who lazily walked
toward the shore to see the great liner make her landing. She was a new
ship, a ship of huge tonnage for a Southern liner, and it was a treat
to watch her officers dock her. Slowly she came drifting in toward the
land, her mighty engines sending the white coral water moving gently
from her stern.
Her giant bows came near the landing. A tiny figure flung a filmy line
through the air, a line so small in proportion to her great bulk that
it seemed but a spider-web. But behind it followed a great hawser,
and a dozen lazy black men hauled it ashore and threw the loop over a
pile-end.
Then a shrill whistle sounded, and the deep rumble of the engines told
of the backing strain. She swung alongside the wharf finally and made
fast her stern and spring-lines. Then a gangway shot out, and the
captain came quickly down, followed by a swarm of passengers.
As the ship was to stop only a half-hour at Key West, her commander had
to make a quick clearance and entry, taking on some fifty passengers
who were in the cigar business and who made Key West an important stop
on that account. They were all through first-class to New York. Smart
joined Captain Flanagan while he walked briskly toward the customhouse.
The skipper shook his hand warmly, and asked how he came to be down
there. Then followed the story of the wreck of a yacht, and the tale
of an officer out of a berth, all of which Flanagan listened to with
waning interest. The old, old story was uncommonly dull to him. He was
powerless to do anything, and he spoke forth.
"It's no use of talking about it any more, Smart. You know the rules
of the company as well as I do. You know there are other men waiting
to step into berths, and when a man steps out like you did it's up to
him to stay out and give the rest a chance. How would you like to have
a man come back into a ship and block you for perhaps twenty years? No,
it won't do, even if I could do it. You are out. Stay out, unless you
want to start in again at the foot, as a third mate."
"No, I can't drop to that position at my age," said Smart sadly. "I'm
holding a master's ticket, and if you can't take me on as a second at
least, why, all right, I'll have to ship somewhere else."
"I'm mighty sorry, old man," said Flanagan, "but you know it's not my
fault. It's the rules of the company, and if I took you on to New York
you would be dropped as soon as we landed. I can give you a passage up,
if you want it. Here's a key to the stateroom--take it."
"No, you don't. If I stay ashore, I stay right here. Don't worry about
me. I'll try to make good. I know I was a fool, but sometimes we all
play the fool. Good-bye, and good luck. How does the ship run?"
Flanagan was gone. The light of Stormalong's shone out brightly in
the distance. Smart kept his eyes upon them for a long time, and
wandered about the streets. The warning whistle of the liner blew for a
farewell, and as the sound roared out upon the night the seaman turned
away and went up the street.
II
Captain Smart was in a particularly uncomfortable mood. He had left
the liner for a woman, a woman whom he desired and whom he thought
worth any sacrifice. Later he discovered that she was selfish to the
core. He had expected companionship, love, and sympathy. He had found
cold, calculating animalism: a brutality all the more horrible for its
refinement, for its servitude to wealth and position. Yes, she had
told him plainly just how she felt about it, and had made it perfectly
plain that she would mate only with some one who could place her in
surroundings which she desired, not what she would get as the wife of
a seaman, a captain of a ship. And he could not blame her. No, it was
manifestly not her fault. It was the fault of the society in which she
had been brought up. It had stifled the woman in her and developed the
snob to an extent that would admit of no choice on the part of either.
He had seen his mistake, and the loss of the yacht upon which she was a
guest had given him a chance to complete the affair, to get away from
all the familiar surroundings. Now he was "on the beach."
"On the beach," to a sailor means without a ship and without money.
Smart had neither ship nor money, but he had a strong constitution
and high spirits, and the lights of Stormalong's were still burning
brightly down the long, smooth road.
He entered and noticed that the tables were full. A company of men were
playing cards at the farthest end of the saloon, and he made his way
toward them. A game of poker always fascinated him, and he hung over
the back of a player, watching his cards and noting the manner he
threw away a high pair to fill a flush.
"Would ye like to set in?" asked Stormalong, who had come over to get
an order for drinks.
"I wouldn't mind setting in for a short time," Smart nodded. "No
all-night séance for me, and quit when you want to."
"Gents," began the saloon-keeper, "this is Captain Smart, of the
schooner--ah, well, never mind that, hey? Well, Smart was chief officer
of the ship just gone out. He's got the dough, and kin play a keard or
two, if you give him a chance."
"Set right in here, cap," said a thick-set, sunburnt man whose calling
was manifest in his face. "I'm a reefer, an' run a sponger, but I
reckon I kin play with yer."
"You make five--just right for luck," was the greeting of another, a
thin, eagle-nosed fellow who declared that his name was Smith--Wilson
Smith.
A man with a thick growth of beard nodded to him across the board, and
a squat, twinkling-eyed little fellow, with the hue of the tobacco
factory upon him, held out his hand. "My name's Jacobs--traveller for
the Garcias'--glad to meet you."
The cards were dealt round afresh, and Smart took up his hand. For some
time nothing occurred to distract the attention of the players from
the game, but gradually their talk and the clink of money as they made
change attracted the crowd.
Smart was aware of a huge form just behind him, and, glancing up,
he looked right into the face of Bahama Bill, the black mate of the
wrecking-sloop _Sea-Horse_. A huge grin was upon the black man's ugly
face, and he laid his enormous hand upon Smart's shoulder. "Huh, how
yo' is, cap? Thought you'd gone away fo' sho. Stopped to teach 'em how
toe play de game, huh? Yah, yah, ya-a-a!"
"Stormalong," broke in Wilson Smith, "I don't want to appear rude, but
I draw the colour line sometimes, especially at keards. If the big
nigger standing behind us will sit down or move along, it'll facilitate
the game some."
Bahama Bill heard the remarks, but, being in a white man's saloon,
he said nothing. He showed his teeth in a mirthless smile, a smile
which boded no good for the man who had spoken and who was evidently a
stranger to him.
Stormalong motioned to the wrecker to sit down, and Bill did so without
comment. He was well known and fairly well liked, and his record
allowed him some privileges which were not accorded to men of his
race. Being part owner as well as mate of the wrecking-sloop made him
a person of more or less note. Therefore Stormalong furnished him with
unlimited rum, which he paid for from a wad of bills which made the
observers gaze with surprise. Mr. Dunn, the owner of the yacht which
Smart had lost, had been trimmed very cleanly. The salvage on her had
been large for so small a vessel, owing to the valuable silverware,
furnishings, and other fittings.
III
The game progressed slowly, but Wilson Smith began to win little by
little. Smart suddenly found he held three aces. He raised the limit
before drawing, and discarded two cards, hoping to draw another ace.
Jacobs, the cigar man, came in, and Smith raised it one better, which
Smart made good, the other two men dropping out.
Bahama Bill had drunk several glasses of rum by this time, and he again
appeared to fix his attention upon the game, but not so as to attract
attention, standing well back of all but keeping his eyes fixed in a
steady gaze upon the thin-faced man's cards.
The cards were dealt, and Smart drew a pair of queens, filling, and
thus holding a strong hand. Jacobs drew one card, and quietly slipped
it into his hand. His face was emotionless, and he puffed lazily at his
cigar, complacently cocked up at a high angle in his jaws. Smith drew
four cards, and, after conning his hand carefully, bet a dollar.
Jacobs raised, and Captain Smart came upon him for the limit. Wilson
Smith, to the surprise of all, raised back the limit. The cigar man was
game, and came again. Smart holding an ace-full, could not, of course,
let it pass him, so he again raised it.
"We all bein' so mighty peart about our hands--let's throw the limit
off," suggested Smith.
"I'm more'n willin'," agreed Jacobs. "What d'ye say, cap?"
"I haven't much money"--Smart hesitated--"and just came in the game to
pass the time, but if the rest are willing, I'll stay."
Wilson Smith looked around approvingly. "I'll make it fifty dollars
better than what there's in it." He drew a cigar from his pocket and
lit it with an easy air.
"I'll have to make it two hundred better," Jacobs protested grimly. "I
hate to gamble, but I can't let a hand like this pass me."
"Oh, I haven't any money like that." Captain Smart's brows were raised
in surprise. "Fifty is all I can show."
"Well, I'm sorry about that," said Jacobs. "Of course we'll give you a
show, but the limit was put off on purpose to let us play keards."
Smart was aware of a heavy hand upon his shoulder. He turned, and found
Bahama Bill standing close to him.
"Take dis hear, cap." And Bill thrust an enormous roll of bills unto
his pile upon the table. "I'll stand by toe see yo' through."
Wilson Smith looked up again, and then called for Stormalong Journegan.
"Journegan," said he, "this is the second time I have had to speak to
you about being annoyed. If it happens again there'll be trouble."
"Play poker," came a voice from the crowd.
Smart gazed about him for a moment. It was evident that the mate of the
_Sea-Horse_ had an object in putting up his cash. He was quick-witted
enough to see that it was best to go ahead without making any comment.
He could stop after this hand.
Bahama Bill drew back at a sign from Journegan, but still fixed his
gaze upon Smith's hand. It seemed as though he had seen the hands of
the men, and was betting upon the best. Smart could think of no other
reason for the money being left him, and he felt certain that he would
win. Bill was just backing the hand he had seen to be the winner.
As long as that was the case he would go the limit. He counted out five
hundred dollars and laid it upon the table. Then he picked up his cards
again and skimmed over the squeezers, waiting for the end.
Jacobs drew out the amount to make good, and the thin-faced man felt
in his pocket for his roll. He bent over in doing this, and as he did
so he held his cards close to his breast in his left hand. He was
still fumbling in his trousers pocket with his right when a black hand
suddenly reached over his shoulder and drew forth a complete "hold-out"
from under his waistcoat where his hand pressed. The movement was so
quick, so powerful, and so disconcerting, that for an instant there was
a silence, and the fellow threw up his head. The next moment he had
drawn his gun, a long, blue-barrelled revolver of heavy pattern, and
had swung it up over his shoulder and fired like a flash of lightning
into Bahama Bill.
Instantly there was an uproar, and above the noise of the struggling
mass of men there sounded the bull-like bass of the mate of the
_Sea-Horse_: "I got yo' fer sho, Skinny Ike--I got yo'."
IV
Captain Smart grabbed what money he could get hands upon, and while
thus engaged the cigar man dealt him a powerful blow over the shoulders
with a chair. It had been meant for his head, but instead it landed
upon the heavy muscles Smart had earned by hard work hauling lines.
He gave a yell, and sprang upon his assailant. Just then Stormalong
Journegan opened with his gun, and the quick firing drowned all other
sounds.
Through the smoke of the fight Smart saw his man, and smote him with
all his power upon the jaw. The fellow went down and out. Many of the
bystanders had been with the crooks, probably a gang of six or more,
and these fell upon Smart and Bahama Bill.
Smart found himself fighting two quick, agile fellows who struck at him
with weapons he could not distinguish. The rest piled upon the giant
mate while Journegan fired upon the bunch, taking care not to hit any
one, for he had no desire to ruin his business. His lead, however,
went so close that one man got a clip that knocked him over. The room
filled with smoke, and the uproar was loud enough, but suddenly Smart
was aware of the giant Conch struggling to his feet and swinging out
right and left with two mighty fists, sending men tumbling about like
chips before a storm. Just beneath him the thin-faced man, Wilson
Smith--dubbed "Skinny Ike" by Bill--lay in a heap.
"Come on, yo' muckers, come on an' git yo' medicine," he bawled. Then
he picked up the prostrate man, and, taking him by the shoulders, used
him as a flail, swinging him about his head and knocking every one
in his path into a state of submission. The men around Smart fled in
confusion, and in a moment Bahama Bill and the captain stood alone in
the end of the room, the rest of the onlookers making good their escape
to the street. Journegan stood behind his bar and grinned down the
barrel of his empty gun.
"Air ye hurted much, Bill?" he asked.
"Hurt!" roared the giant mate. "What'd hurt me here, anyway, 'cept yo'
blamed rum, hey?"
"Well, if you want to make a gitaway now's the time, I reckon, for this
place'll be pulled to-night sure--an' that in a mighty few minutes."
Bahama Bill dropped the limp form of Wilson Smith. The man was not
seriously hurt, only horribly bruised. The rest were either insensible
from blows or unable to rise from the smash of the thin fellow's body
upon them, for the mate had stove them hard enough to break ribs and
arms with his human whip. Some of the gang essayed to sit up and take
notice after the mate ceased to speak. One had the temerity to draw a
gun, which Bill unceremoniously kicked out of his hand.
"I reckon we'd better be goin' 'long, cap," said the big black. "This
place'll be pulled by the marshal inside o' ten minutes. Take up w'at
dough you sees; I'll kerlect it off'n you later."
"Didn't you git a plug?" asked Journegan.
"Oh, yas; jest a little hole in de shoulder--dat's nothin'. Come on,
cap."
Smart hesitated a minute. "Where do we go?" he asked.
"Aboa'd de _Sea-Horse_--an' to sea as fast as we kin git her movin'.
Ought toe been gone befo' dis, but when I see dat Skinny settin' in to
skin yo' I jest naterally had toe take a hand. Whatcher s'pose I handed
yo' dat money fer?"
"But I haven't done anything wrong--nothing to run for," said Smart.
"Yo' try an' think straight a minute, cap. Yo' ain't got many friends
here. Take my advice an' don't git pulled. De clink is mighty mean
here. I don't know why I should take a shine toe yo' cap, but yo' shore
did set in dat game ter win--an' yo' kin hit pretty straight, too."
"Gwan, before it's too late," said Journegan.
A rush of feet sounded in the street, followed by the hoarse voices
of men nearing "The Cayo Huesso." The door of the saloon was suddenly
burst open, and the marshal, with a posse of twenty men behind him,
came into view.
"De window, cap," yelled Bahama Bill, and without waiting a moment he
sprang through, carrying the sash and glass, shutters, and all with
him. Through the opening Smart plunged instinctively, and as he did so
he heard the sharp command to halt, followed by the crack of a gun. He
had managed to get clear by a fraction of a second, and, landing upon
his feet, started after the dark shadow which he knew was the black
sailor making for the beach.
V
Down the road Captain Smart ran as fast as he could go, trying vainly
to reach the tall form of the mate, who kept the lead easily until the
lights of the harbour came into view. Then he slacked up and Smart came
up with him.
"Dat sho was fun, hey?" laughed the mate, not the least winded from his
dash for liberty. "Cost yo' a hundred dollars to git clear ef dey catch
yo'. Dey don't run yo' in fer fun down here. Dat's de _Sea-Horse_. Git
inter dat small boat--so."
"How about Journegan? Will they fine him for the fracas?"
"Oh, no. He stands in wid de gang--pays fer de trouble he makes.
Journegan is a good man--he's all right."
"He was with the crooks, was he?" asked Smart.
"Oh, yes, he thought you had money--he has to stand in wid de gang.
He was mad as er hornet at me buttin' in, but jest couldn't help it.
I'll square him some day, an' he knows it. If he didn't know it, he'd
'a' plugged me when dey jumped me. I reckon he c'u'd 'a' done it, all
right, for he's a mighty fine shot, dat Journegan. But I sho had it in
fer Skinny Ike--he done me onct."
"Seems like a pretty tough bunch of men along the bank here, don't it?"
said Smart. "Journegan hinted that there was something done wrong to
Mr. Dunn's yacht--he said she must have leaked--what?"
Bahama Bill stopped rowing the small boat. They were half-way to the
_Sea-Horse_, and lights were already showing along the shore, telling
plainly that pursuit would be made in short order. The tide set them
toward the vessel, but Bill gazed steadily at Smart through the
darkness.
"Did Journegan say dat?" he asked quietly.
"Yes, and I would like to know what he meant by it."
"You know why he did all dat shootin'--all dat firin' to hit nobody?
Dat was jest to get the place pulled--pulled before you made a gitaway,
toe git your money. He knowed you an' me were enemies--knowed dat yo'
had it in fer me, knowed dat I wrecked Mr. Dunn's yacht, an' dat yo'
sho had no claim wid me--an' dat's where he made a mistake----"
"You wrecked the schooner?" cried Smart.
"Sho, cap, I dun wrecked her. Don't yo' remember de day--de night--I
came abo'd, harpooned by a fool Yankee mate? Well, I was pullin' a seam
dat night--dat's what made her leak----"
"You are a devil--the blackest rascal I ever met. You can take me
ashore, I won't have anything more to do with you--turn about."
"Not a bit--no, suh. Yo' goes wid me dis trip, sho."
Smart hesitated not a moment, but sprang overboard and struck out for
the shore, calling loudly for help.
Bahama Bill sat gazing after him for a moment, swearing deeply. Then
he carefully shipped the oars, stood up, and the next moment plunged
over the side after him. In a few rapid strokes he came up to the
sailor. With one mighty arm he circled the swimmer, holding his arms to
his sides as easily as though he were a child. With his other hand he
struck out lustily for the sloop and gained her side, where two heads
peered over looking at him.
"Pass a line, quick," he called.
A line dropped instantly over the side and fell within reach. Smart was
quickly trussed and hoisted aboard and the mate climbed up after him.
"Put de mains'l on her--heave her short--jump!" bellowed Bahama Bill,
at the same time casting off the gaskets from the boom and throwing the
beckets off the wheel.
A Dutchman, Heldron by name, and a Conch called Sam, sprang to obey.
The sail went quickly up with a clucking of blocks and snapping of
canvas. Then in came the anchor, the three men hauling line with a
will. One man loosed the jib while another sent it up with a rush, and
just as the sweeping strokes of a pursuing oar fell upon their ears
the _Sea-Horse_ stood out the nor'west passage and to sea.
"Where's Sanders?" asked the mate.
"Oh, de cap'n, he dun take de mon' he get an' go to Tampa on de steamer
this night. He say he goin' to do somet'in' to dem big hotels Mr.
Flagler builds--dem dat run de gamblin'-houses. Won't be back fer a
week."
"Cap," said Bahama Bill, casting Smart adrift, "yo' kin go below an'
put dat money in de co'ner of de right-han' locker--no use yo' tryin'
to swim away wid it. Yo' an' me is goin' to the Bank fer a bit o'
work--dat's it, Sam, hook de boat as we come past--pass de painter aft,
an' let her tow."