UNDER COVER
By the time the captain reached the side of the boat, Eben had his
small skiff tied to the deck-rail. He was standing up, a tall, gaunt,
ungainly youth, freckled faced, and sandy haired. He wore a dark-brown
sweater, and a pair of overalls, baggy at the knees. He did not speak
as his father approached, but mechanically handed up to him a jug of
molasses, and several paper parcels. He then leaped lightly upon deck,
and headed for the cabin. But the captain detained him by laying a
firm and heavy hand upon his shoulder.
"Keep out of thar," he ordered. "I've jist been scrubbin' an' don't
want ye to dirty the place up."
The tone of his father's voice caused Eben to swing suddenly around.
"Me feet ain't dirty," he drawled. "An' s'pose they are, what's the
difference? The cabin ain't no parler. Let me go; I'm most starved."
But the captain's grip increased as he yanked his son a few feet back.
"I'm in charge of this craft," he reminded, "an' what I say goes. Yer
not goin' down into that cabin to-night, so jist make up yer mind to
that fust as last."
The boy now stared in speechless amazement. Never before had he seen
his father so agitated, nor heard him speak to him in such a manner.
"D'ye understand?" the captain asked.
"Understand what?"
"That yer not goin' down in that cabin. Isn't that what I jist said?
Where are yer ears?"
A sullen look leaped into the boy's eyes, and with an effort he shook
himself free from his father's grasp.
"D'ye mean it?" he growled.
"Sartinly I mean it. An' what's more, I don't want ye to ask any fool
questions. We'll eat an' sleep on deck to-night, up forrad. I'll
bring the grub an' clothes from the cabin, but you stay out."
Eben was about to reply in an angry manner, when the form of his
countenance instantly changed, and a peculiar expression,
half-humorous, appeared in his eyes. He stood looking at his father
for a few seconds in an absent-minded manner. Then, without a word, he
picked up the jug of molasses and strode up forward. The captain gazed
after him in astonishment, greatly wondering what had come over his son
to make him so obedient all of a sudden. He said nothing, however, but
went at once down into the cabin where he found the girl making herself
perfectly at home tidying up the place.
"Eben's come," the captain laconically remarked,
"So I understand," and the girl smiled.
"Ye heard what was said, eh?"
"Certainly. I'm not deaf."
"Sure, sure. Me temper got the best of me to-night. But I couldn't
help it, fer that boy did more'n stir me up. Guess he's cooled down
now, though I'm mighty surprised that he knuckled under so soon. It's
not a bit like Eb's way, let me tell ye that."
"I am very sorry to give all this trouble," the girl acknowledged. "I
feel ashamed of myself."
"Most likely ye do, Miss. We all feel that way at times. But I must
git a hustle on, an' tote up some clothes fer the night, an' a snack of
grub fer Eben. He's mighty fond of his stummick, that boy is. He'd
eat every hour of the day, jist the same as a chicken, an' then
wouldn't be satisfied."
Captain Tobin was much surprised that his son asked him no questions
that night. He did not even refer to the cabin, but after he had eaten
two large slices of bread, well soaked in molasses, he stretched
himself out upon the deck, drew a heavy quilt over his body, and was
soon fast asleep. The captain, however, did not sleep for some time.
He sat upon the cover of the hatchway and puffed at an old corn-cob,
which had been brought into service after the ruin of his favourite
clay pipe. It was a beautiful night, and not a breath of wind ruffled
the surface of the river. The captain was thinking seriously, as he
was greatly puzzled what to do with the girl who had thrust herself so
unceremoniously upon him. He could not put her ashore, that was quite
evident, and he knew that he could not keep her presence a secret from
Eben for any length of time. And then there was Martha. What would
she and Flo say when they heard of it? This thought brought the
perspiration to his forehead, causing him to shift uneasily. And the
neighbours! What a rare bit of gossip it would be when they heard of
it. And hear of it they certainly would, and he would be disgraced.
It was somewhat late when he at length rolled himself up in his blanket
by his son's side. Silence reigned near the cabin, and he fell asleep
feeling that he had done the best that he could under the circumstances.
He awoke early, and scrambled to his feet. Eben was still asleep, so
he moved about as quietly as possible so as not to disturb him. Far
off in the east the dawn of a new day was breaking, and the sky was
resplendent with the soft rosy tints of the virgin morn. From the
shore came faint twitterings of birds just awaking from slumber.
Presently the raucous honks of autos some distance down the road fell
upon his ears. In a few minutes the cars appeared, and drew up at the
wharf not far away. Several men alighted, and from their actions the
captain could tell that they were very much excited. Then more autos
arrived, until about twenty men were standing upon the wharf and the
road. He wondered what they wanted, and what had brought them there at
such an early hour. When, however, he saw them rowing from the shore
in several flat-bottom boats, the meaning of the commotion flashed upon
his mind. They were searching for the missing girl, believing that she
had been drowned the night before. The captain was in a quandary. His
first impulse was to hail the men, and tell them that the missing one
was safe. But what would the girl think of him if he betrayed her?
No, he would not do such a thing without speaking to her first. He
glanced toward the cabin, and to his surprise saw smoke coming from the
stove-pipe protruding through the roof of the cabin. The girl, he
knew, must be awake, so he might as well inform her at once.
He hurried away aft, and paused at the cabin door. It was open, and
glancing down he saw the girl busily engaged in preparing breakfast.
The appetising odour of coffee greeted his nostrils, and he heard
something sizzling in the frying-pan. Just then the girl glanced up,
and a bright smile of welcome illumined her face. Her cheeks were
flushed with the heat and exercise, and the captain thought he had
never beheld a more charming face.
"Good morning," she greeted. "Come in; breakfast is almost ready."
"Well, I'll be hanged!" the captain ejaculated as he descended the
stairs. "What in time are ye up so early fer?"
"Isn't the cook always supposed to be up early?" the girl questioned,
while her eyes sparkled with merriment.
"S'pose so," and the captain scratched his head in a dubious manner.
"But I wasn't lookin' upon you as a cook, fer I had no idea that ye
understood anything about a kitchen."
"Well, then, you were much mistaken. Just sit down, and try this
egg-on-toast, and this coffee. I have learned a few things, so am not
altogether useless. Cooking is one of my accomplishments, though,
perhaps, I may not suit such an expert as you."
After the captain had washed himself in the granite-iron basin, and
carefully brushed his hair, he sat down at the little side-table. His
breakfast was already before him, but he would not touch it until the
girl was ready for hers. He noted with appreciation that the oil-cloth
on the table was especially clean, and how neatly the few dishes were
arranged.
"Well, this is some breakfast," he complimented. "I never expected to
find this awaitin' me."
"Are you satisfied with your cook now?" the girl smilingly asked.
"Satisfied!" The captain paused in the act of lifting his cup of
coffee to his lips. "Did I ever say I wasn't satisfied?"
"Not exactly, though you acted that way last night."
"I know I did, an' I'm of the same opinion still. I'm not satisfied
while them fellers are out draggin' the river fer yer body."
At these words a startled look came into the girl's eyes, and she
dropped her fork upon her plate.
"Dragging the river for my body!" she gasped.
"Sure, thar are several boats not fer from here now, an' the men in 'em
seem mighty excited. It does seem a pity fer 'em to be doin' sich a
thing while you are safe an' sound in this cabin. Thar's something
uncanny about it, which is not at all to my likin'. Don't ye think I'd
better holler out, an' tell 'em that you're all right?"
"No, no," the girl protested, rising to her feet. "Don't say a word.
If they think I'm drowned, all the better. That's just what I want
them to think."
"Good Lord!" The captain stared in amazement at the agitated girl.
"What am I to do, then? I can't stay here an' see them poor fellers
doin' sich a useless job. An' besides, they must be about
heart-broken."
"Indeed they're not," the girl emphatically declared. "If they are the
ones I believe they are, you needn't worry about them, for they have no
hearts to break. I must have a peek at them."
"Be careful, if ye don't want to be seen, Miss," the captain warned, as
the girl stood, on one of the steps and cautiously peered out. She was
instantly down again, her face very white.
"There's a boat coming straight for us!" she excitedly explained.
"It's only a short distance off. Go on deck quick and send the men
away. Don't let them come on board."
With a bound the captain was up out of the cabin. He was determined to
protect the girl, although he felt that he was making a fool of
himself. But while she was on his boat, and under his care, no one was
going to molest her. He stood silently watching the row-boat as it
drew near. It contained three men, two at the oars, and one seated
astern.
"Say," the latter called out, "did you see a young woman drifting about
here in a boat last night?"
"Did I see what?" the captain asked, apparently surprised.
"A young woman, Miss Randall, in a boat last night? She has
disappeared, and we're afraid she's drowned."
"No, I didn't see any young woman driftin' around here in a boat last
night," the captain replied. "What makes ye think she's drowned
herself?"
"Because a boat was found adrift in South Bay last night, containing
one oar and a woman's hat. The hat belonged to Miss Randall, and as
she is missing, it is feared that she either drowned herself or met
with an accident."
"Dear me, that's serious. Why would she want to drown herself?"
"Oh, some family trouble, I guess. Her folks wanted her to marry a man
she had no use for. That's him standing there on the wharf now."
"Ye don't tell!" The captain turned his head and looked shoreward.
"Wonder why he isn't helpin' to search fer his sweetheart. He seems to
be mighty cool about the affair."
"Oh, he's afraid of soiling his hands and clothes." The man spoke in a
low voice, for he was now close alongside. "He's Lord
Something-or-Other's son, an' wouldn't think of associating with such
common cusses as us. He belongs to the upper-crust, doncher-know." The
man smiled, and his companions grinned. It was quite evident that they
were all familiar with the story.
"An' so ye say the gal yer lookin' fer is Miss Randall, daughter of
Henry Randall, the big lumber merchant?" the captain asked.
"That's who she is; his only daughter."
"An' he wants her to marry _that_?" and the captain motioned toward the
wharf.
"Sure. Is it any wonder she'd want to commit suicide? She'd be a fool
if she wouldn't. But, there, we must get back to work. We just
dropped alongside, thinking ye might have seen her drifting around,
last night, and heard a scream or a splash."
"What makes ye think it was around here she done the deed?" the captain
asked.
"Because her folks have their summer house a short distance below the
wharf, and the boat which was found drifting in South Bay belongs to
Bill Sanson up on the hill. Aren't they reasons enough?"
"It does look reasonable," the captain acknowledged. "I s'pose her pa
an' ma are about crazy over her disappearance. I know I should be
about Flo."
"Her father isn't home," the man explained. "He's away somewhere on a
business trip. As for her mother, well----" He paused, pulled a plug
of tobacco out of his pocket, and bit off a chew. Then he turned to
his companions. "Come, boys, suppose we get back? We've wasted too
much time already."
The captain watched them as they rowed away, and his eyes twinkled with
merriment. He was smiling when he returned to the cabin. The girl
there was smiling, too, although it was easy to tell that she had been
greatly agitated.
"Have they gone?" she asked in a low voice.
"Oh, yes, they've gone back to look fer you. Say, Miss, I don't like
this bizness one bit. It's a mighty spooky affair, an' gits on me
nerves. Don't ye feel a bit shaky yerself?"
"I suppose I should," the girl thoughtfully replied. "But under the
circumstances I can't. Don't you remember what that man told you?"
"About you marryin' that Lord Fiddlesticks?"
"Yes, though that is not his name."
"I know it isn't, but it doesn't matter. But, thar, I must take some
grub to Eben. He'll be down here soon, I'm sartin, if I don't head him
off. Thar's nuthin' like grub to hold that boy in check. I've got to
go ashore this mornin' to git some tea. Eben fergot all about it last
night."
"Will you get a few things for me?" the girl asked. "I will make out a
list at once."
"I was expectin' something like that, Miss. I knew ye wouldn't be
satisfied with what this cabin contains, but would want many things
extry. I s'pose ye'll order a hull outfit of table linen, a set of
chiny dishes, a new coffee pot, an' dear knows what all. I'd have to
go to the city fer them things."
"No, not at all," the girl laughingly replied. "I can get along nicely
with what you have here. I only need something for myself, as I came
away without anything, not even a comb. I hope you don't mind."
"Oh, I don't mind, as fer as I'm consarned. But I'm wonderin' what
Martha an' Flo'll think if they ever hear of it."
"I am sure they will be pleased, Captain, when they know how kind you
have been to an unfortunate girl. When I see them I shall explain, so
everything will be all right."
"I hope so, Miss. But if ye knew Martha as well as I do mebbe ye
wouldn't feel so sure. Anyway, I s'pose it can't be helped now. Jist
have yer list ready when I come back from feedin' Eben, an' I'll do the
best I kin."