MARTHA TAKES A HAND
Throughout the entire night the horror of a great dread drove all sleep
from Eben's eyes. As he lay in his bunk every sound seemed to be
magnified, and he imagined that men would come for him and lead him
away to trial. He felt quite sure that he had killed Jess and that he
would be hung for murder. The girl's white face with the bloodstain
upon it was ever before him, and he could not shut it from his mind.
And he had murdered her, the one who had meant so much to him. The
thought of John Hampton filled his soul with bitterness. He was the
cause of all his misery, so he reasoned. Why had not the stone hit him
instead of the girl?
Some time before daylight he went out on deck. The cabin was stifling,
and he felt that he would smother if he stayed there any longer. He
sauntered up forward, and looked out over the water. It was a
beautiful night, with a gentle wind drifting in from the west. The
accustomed sounds of darkness fell upon his ears, but he paid no
attention to them now. His mind was not in tune with nature's sweet
harmonies, so she brought no restful peace to his tumultuous brain. He
longed to know what was taking place in the little shack in the forest.
Was the girl lying there still in death? Would people know who did the
deed? How would they find out? He had read about detectives searching
for criminals, and following most unexpected clues. Had he left any
trace behind? he wondered. No twinge of conscience troubled his soul.
It was only regret that the stone had hit the wrong person. He was
sorry for the girl, and for himself. His nature was as clay, full of
many possibilities, and capable of being moulded by right methods into
a choice vessel. But hitherto no one had understood his peculiar
nature. Then when love for a noble woman did at length enter his soul,
its influence was quenched by the spirit of hatred and revenge.
Great excitement reigned at the quarry when the men learned of the
accident which had befallen Miss Randall. Feeling ran high and had
they known the one who committed the deed, it would have gone hard with
him. Captain Tobin heard the story when he visited the quarry during
the morning. He had been more surprised than ever at Eben's silent and
strange manner, especially when he had found him at daybreak at the bow
of the boat. He could get nothing from the boy, and in disgust he had
left him and ate his breakfast alone. He believed that his son was
deeply in love with Jess Randall, and that the presence of John Hampton
was the cause of his depression. He imagined that it was but a
temporary affection, and nothing would come of it, until he heard of
what had happened to the girl. Then a great fear forced itself upon
his mind. He banished it at first as improbable. But the more he
thought of it, and the more he considered Eben's strange manner, the
more he was led to the painful conclusion that his son was the one who
had thrown the stone through the window. He was well aware of Eben's
impulsive nature, and the extent to which he would go when roused to
anger. He overheard two men talking about the affair.
"I'd like to lay my hands on the skunk who threw that stone," declared
one, "I'd show him a thing or two. The idea of hitting such a girl as
that, an' her watching by Bill."
"Is she badly hurt, d'ye think?" the other asked. "Can't say. Mrs.
Dobbins said she was able to sit up in the car when young Hampton took
her away."
"Where did he take her to?"
"To the hospital, I guess. But maybe he took her to his own home. His
mother lives down the river somewhere, so I understand."
The captain breathed more freely when he learned that the girl was able
to travel in the car. At first he feared that she had been so badly
injured that she might die. Then the guilty one would surely be found,
and if it proved to be his own son how terrible it would be. Even now
should suspicion rest upon Eben the quarrymen might prove very
troublesome. He, therefore, decided to get away as soon as possible.
He did not wish to shield his son if he were in the wrong. But he
wanted him to receive a fair trial, if the matter went that far, and
not have him dealt with by a number of excited men who might let their
passions get the upper hand.
Shortly after noon the "Eb and Flo" slipped from her wharf, and headed
downstream. The tide was fair, and the light breeze was favourable for
a long tack out of the narrow channel into the main river below Spoon
Island. The captain was at the wheel, with Eben by his side, ready for
any orders which might be given. Very few words had passed between
father and son during the day, and to all outward appearance they
seemed like complete strangers. But the captain's mind had been busy
upon more than his boat. He felt it was his duty to speak to Eben and
find out if he did really throw the stone which hit the girl. Several
times he was on the point of mentioning the subject, but always
hesitated. It was a delicate matter, he well knew, and for the first
time in his life he was at a loss for words. At length, however, he
brought his courage to what he thought was the sticking point.
"Say, Eben," he began. Then he paused, and looked helplessly around.
"What is it, dad?"
"D'ye think it's goin' to blow hard to-day?"
"Mebbe it will, an' mebbe it won't."
The captain gave the wheel a slight turn, and ran a little closer to
the island.
"Eben."
The boy looked curiously at his father.
"D'ye s'pose yer mother'll be waitin' fer us?"
"Most likely."
The captain shifted uneasily, and clutched the wheel with a firmer grip.
"Say, Eben, it was too bad that gal got hurt last night, wasn't it?"
The boy started, and gave his father a quick look. Then his eyes
dropped.
"What girl, dad? Ye never told me about it."
"But don't ye know, Eben?"
"Know what?"
"Quit yer nonsense. Didn't ye hear about that gal who came up river
with us gittin' hurt?"
"Naw, never heard a word."
"Ye didn't!" The captain stared at his son. Surely, he thought, the
boy is not adding a lie to his misdeed.
"I ain't seen anybody this mornin' but you, dad," Eben explained. "How
could I hear anything?"
"Sure, sure, I guess yer right. But I did think mebbe ye'd thrown that
stone. I'm mighty glad to learn that ye know nuthin' about it."
"I didn't say I know nuthin'. Ye didn't ask me that."
"Didn't I? Why, I thought I spoke plain enough."
"Oh, shucks! Ye jist asked me if I had heard about it, which I didn't.
Nobody told me, but I know jist the same. I threw that stone."
There was an expression of defiance upon the boy's face, and his eyes
were blazing. He partly expected his father to swing upon him with
strong words of reproof. In this, however, he was mistaken. The
captain remained very quiet for a few minutes, which seemed, to Eben
much longer. At last he turned and looked at his son. His rough,
knotted hands trembled on the wheel, and his eyes were misty. Eben
never saw him look at him in such a way before. Had he stormed and
raged it would have but increased his defiance. But that look of
silent reproach smote his very soul, causing him to cower conscience
stricken. Without a word, he left his father's side and went forward.
And there he stood with his hands behind his back, staring straight
before him. The captain watched him anxiously. His mind was greatly
confused over the confession he had just heard. What would Martha and
Flo say when they heard of it? The family would be disgraced, for the
neighbours up and down the river would learn the truth sooner or later.
What should he do? Would it be right to shield his son? The
perspiration stood out in beads upon his forehead, and a groan escaped
his lips. Then almost unconsciously he began to sing his old favourite
verse:
"Here I'll raise my Ebenezer,
Hither by Thy grace I'll come,
And I trust in Thy good pleasure,
Safely to arrive at home."
"Seems to me," he mused, "that I've been tryin' to raise Eben without
considerin' enough the great Stone of help. I've heard the parson say
that's the meanin' of Ebenezer, and that the stone refers to the Lord.
Yes, I guess I need His help more'n ever jist now."
The "Eb and Flow" made slow progress down river, for the wind was
light, and it was necessary to beat most of the way. It was,
accordingly, evening when at last she ran slowly into Beech Cove and
dropped anchor. The captain's mind was worried about the reception he
would receive, for he knew how angry his wife would be over his strange
action on the up trip. He was at a loss to explain, for he could not
bring himself to the extremity of telling a falsehood. He was thinking
seriously of this when his wife appeared on the shore. She immediately
launched a small row-boat and headed for the "Eb and Flo." The captain
received her as graciously as possible, although he knew at the first
glance that his entire stock of affableness could not dispel the
threatening clouds.
"Well, Sam'l," Mrs. Tobin began, the instant she stepped upon the deck,
"what have you got to say for yourself?"
"Nuthin', Martha, nuthin', 'cept I'm mighty glad to see ye."
"H'm, don't ye lie to me, Sam'l. Ye must be mighty glad to see me.
Why did ye go by on your up trip without stopping?"
"I was in a great hurry, Martha, an' had to git the wind when it
served. We was hung up a long time down river."
"But ye never did such a thing before. Was there any special reason
why ye didn't call just for a few minutes?"
Mrs. Tobin was a buxom, matronly-looking woman, with a usually bright,
pleasant face. But now it was stern, and her dark eyes were filled
with anger as she noted her husband's silence and confusion. Presently
she turned to her son who was standing near.
"What have you to say, Eben? Your father seems to have lost his tongue
all of a sudden. What have you two been doing?"
If his mother had asked him such a question that morning he would not
have hesitated about telling the truth. But the thought of the
expression upon his father's face when he had told about throwing the
stone, deterred him. He looked at his mother uncertain what to say.
"Have you lost your tongue, too?" she impatiently demanded. "Dear me,
there must be something wrong when you too are afraid or ashamed to
speak. Things have come to a pretty pass, Sam'l, when you an' Eben
conspire against me. Haven't I cooked for you, washed and mended your
clothes all these years, and been a good wife to you, Sam'l?"
"Indeed ye have, Martha. Ye've done yer duty, all right."
"An' haven't I been a good mother to your children?"
"Sure, sure, ye have, Martha. Ye done yer duty to them, too."
"Well, then, Sam'l, why is it that you've treated me in such a manner?
Why have you set my only son against me?"
"I haven't set him aginst ye, Martha. Eben's got a tongue which he's
at liberty to use. I s'pose he knows it's no use to speak, fer if ye
won't believe me ye won't believe him, so thar. Ye needn't git on yer
high-horse about nuthin'."
Mrs. Tobin looked at her husband in surprise, for seldom had he ever
spoken to her in such a manner.
"And you've done nothing wrong?" she asked. "Are you sure?"
"No, we ain't done nuthin' wrong 'ccordin' to our way of thinkin'. We
sailed by without stoppin', I acknowledge. But is that any crime?
Bizness is bizness an' must be attended to."
Captain Tobin felt quite pleased at his own boldness, and for his
victory over his wife. He had no idea that she would calm down so
soon. Had he made a mistake in always giving in to her? he asked
himself. Perhaps if he had been a little more assertive it might have
been better for his welfare.
"I suppose the cabin's in a terrible mess." His wife's words suddenly
aroused him.
"No, no, Martha, it's in great shape," he hastened to assure her. "I
scrubbed the floor meself when we was held up down river."
"Then it must be in great shape, Sam'l. I've seen your scrubbing
before. I'm going to have a look, anyway. No doubt there are some
dirty clothes to take home. I suppose you didn't wash them."
Mrs. Tobin made her way to the cabin, and down the narrow stairway,
closely followed by the captain and Eben.
"It smells close here, Sam'l," she commented, as she stood in the
centre of the room and looked critically around. "You should have more
ventilation. It isn't healthy. I have often----"
She paused abruptly as her eyes rested upon a narrow shelf on which a
little clock was steadily ticking. Stepping quickly forward, she
reached out her right hand, seized something and held it forth. It was
a woman's innocent side-comb, but to the captain and his son it
appeared more terrible than the most dangerous bomb. They stared as if
they had never beheld such a thing before. Mrs. Tobin watched them as
she gripped the comb in her hand. Her eyes blazed with anger as she
glowered upon the two abashed ones before her. The captain clutched
his handkerchief and mopped his hot brow. Then he looked helplessly
around. He longed to escape, to flee anywhere from his wife's accusing
eyes.
"Where did this come from?" The words fell slowly from Mrs. Tobin's
lips, and to the two culprits they sounded like the knell of doom. She
waited for some response, but none came. "Is it possible that you have
had a woman in this cabin," she continued. "Can you deny it, Sam'l
Tobin?"
The captain clawed nervously at the back of his head with the fingers
of his right hand, and then glanced up the stairway. The gleam of
triumph shone in his wife's eyes as she noted his embarrassment.
"You can't deny it, Sam'l," she charged, at the same time pointing an
accusing finger straight at his face, "I can read you like a book.
You've had a woman on board, and this is her comb. You can't deny it."
"It'd be no use, Martha," the captain replied. "Ye wouldn't believe me
if I did."
"No, not in the face of this," and Mrs. Tobin again held forth the comb.
"Well, then, Martha, what's the use of so much talk? I've had a hard
day, so am tired an' hungry. Guess Eben is, too."
"Tired! Hungry!" Mrs. Tobin snapped. "You'll be more tired and hungry
before I'm through with you, let me tell you that. You might as well
own up first as last about that woman you had on board. Who is the
miserable hussy, and where is she now?"
A gleam of hope suddenly appeared in the captain's eyes, and he shot a
swift glance toward his son.
"We had no miserable hussy on board, Martha," he replied. "That's the
Gospel truth, so if ye don't believe it, ye needn't."
"I'm afraid you're lying, Sam'l. If you didn't have a woman on board,
where, then, did this comb come from?"
"Blamed if I know. How d'ye expect me to keep track of sich gear?"
Mrs. Tobin gave a sigh of despair as she turned to her son.
"Is your father telling the truth, Eben?" she asked.
"Yes, ma."
"And you had no bad, miserable hussy on board this boat?"
"No, ma, we didn't."
"And you haven't been doing anything wrong, anything that you're
ashamed of?"
Eben's face suddenly coloured, and his eyes dropped. He remembered
what he had done at the quarry. Mrs. Tobin was now convinced that she
was being deceived, and that her husband and son were in league against
her. She wheeled upon the captain.
"I want you to come right home with me, Sam'l. This is a very serious
matter, and I need Flo's advice. She's got a level head, and will know
what had better be done. I can hardly think, I'm so worked up."
"But you kin talk all right, Martha, even if ye can't think," the
captain retorted. "If ye'd think more ye'd talk less. If ye don't
believe what me an' Eben have said, ye needn't. Yes, I'll go home with
ye, fer I guess Flo'll understand, if you don't. Eben, you look after
things here. Ye might as well keep the sail up as thar's no wind. If
it comes on to blow, ye can lower it. I'll be on hand bright an' early
in the mornin' so's to catch the tide. We kin drift, even if thar's no
wind. Come on, Martha, let's go."