STRAIGHT TALK
"I'm sartinly proud of ye, Eben. I didn't think it was in ye."
This was Captain Tobin's comment as he listened for the second time to
his son's story of the night on the river, and the rescue from the
falls. Supper had been over for some time, but the family lingered at
the table, and for once the dishes remained unwashed. Eben was at last
a hero in his own home, and his eyes sparkled as he noted how proud the
members of his family were of his achievements. This was an unusual
experience for him, and his heart glowed with pride. He did not mind
telling them what he had done, and how the two men had helped him to
hoist the sail.
"Who were they?" his mother asked.
"Oh, just two chaps who happened along in a motor-boat. Guess they
were mighty glad to find shelter from the storm."
Eben glanced at his father as he spoke, wondering if he suspected
anything. But the captain gave no sign, so the boy was quite relieved.
"And did the people on the wharf cheer when the tug brought you back
from the falls?" Flo eagerly asked.
"I guess so, though I can't remember much about it now. It all seems
like a dream."
At that instant a loud rap sounded outside. Flo sprang at once to her
feet, and when she had opened the door, a man stepped across the
threshold.
"Does Captain Tobin live here?" he asked.
"Yes, and he's right in there," Flo replied, motioning to the
dining-room which opened off the little hall.
The captain turned to view the visitor, and then attempted to rise. He
sank back, however, with a groan, for he had given his foot a slight
twist.
"So you are Captain Tobin, eh?" the stranger accosted.
"Yes, all that's left of him," was the reply.
"And you are the owner of the woodboat, the 'Eb and Flo'?"
The visitor's abrupt manner irritated the captain. He knew the man to
be Henry Randall, for he had seen him on several occasions. He never
liked the man from what he had heard of him, and his repugnance was now
steadily increasing.
"You ask me if I own the 'Eb an' Flo,' eh?"
"That's what I said."
"Well, first of all, Mister, I want to know what bizness is it of yours
if I do? D'ye want to buy her?"
"I should say not," was the impatient retort. "My name is Henry
Randall, and I want to know if my daughter was on board your boat the
night she was supposed to have drowned herself off Benton's wharf?"
"No, I didn't see yer daughter," the captain replied. "I never sot
eyes on her."
Randall's eyes opened wide in amazement at this unexpected answer. The
word "liar" was on his lips, but with an effort he checked himself.
"I am surprised to hear you say that you never saw my daughter," and he
looked sternly at the captain. "I have almost certain proof that she
boarded your boat off Benton's wharf, and was concealed in the cabin
while men were dragging the river for her body. Can you deny that?"
Exclamations from both Flo and her mother caused Randall to turn
quickly around. Mrs. Tobin had risen to her feet, and her eyes were
blazing with indignation. She was about to speak when her husband
lifted his hand.
"Keep calm, Martha. Keep calm," he advised. "Let me handle this
gent." Then he turned to Randall, "So ye say yer daughter ran away
from home, eh?"
"She did, and that's why I'm here."
"What did she run away fer?"
"Because she was wilful, and wanted her own way; that's why."
"H'm," the captain grunted, "so that's how ye look at it?"
"And why shouldn't I? But what has all this to do with the finding of
my daughter? I didn't come here to be catechised in this way."
"Well, I didn't tell ye to come, Mister. If ye don't like yer
reception, ye kin leave whenever ye want to. No one'll interfere with
yer goin', an' the door's right thar."
Henry Randall was unused to such plain speech, and it angered him. So
accustomed had he been to having his own way and lording it over others
that this was an unusual experience and hard for him to endure. His
face darkened and he looked sternly at the captain.
"I am not in the habit of allowing people to speak to me in such a
manner," he declared. "I can make you pay dearly for your impudence.
Do you know who I am?"
"Sartinly I know, an' that's why I'm talkin' jist as I am. I don't
very often git roused up, but when I do it takes more'n you to stop me.
An' I am roused at the way ye've treated that gal ye call yer daughter.
Ye've been buyin' an sellin' so long that yer heart is nuthin' more'n a
bank account. An' ye weren't satisfied with tradin' in lumber, but ye
even want to sell yer only daughter. Thar, now, don't git riled. Jist
keep cool fer a few minutes 'til I'm through. If yer tired standin',
ye kin set down. Flo, give this feller a chair."
"I don't want a chair," Randall angrily retorted. "I want to get
through with my business here. I ask you once more if my daughter
sought refuge on board your boat the night she was supposed to have
drowned herself off Benton's wharf?"
"Didn't I tell ye that I never sot eyes on her?"
"You lie, Captain Tobin. I have definite proof that a girl was aboard
your boat when you reached the stone quarry, and that she was later
injured on the head by a stone, and brought by a young man, John
Hampton by name, to his home. Can you deny that?"
The excitement of Mrs. Tobin and Flo was now intense. They stared in
speechless amazement, first at Randall and then at the captain.
"Why don't ye go an' git her, then, if she's with John Hampton?" the
captain asked. "What are ye doin' here if yer so sartin about the
matter?"
"I'm here because there's nobody home there. I visited Mrs. Hampton on
my way up the road, and she told me that my daughter had never been at
her house. She said a girl had been injured at the quarry, but it was
her own daughter. She suggested that I go to the quarry and make
inquiries, which I did. I learned enough there to satisfy me that Mrs.
Hampton lied to me, and that the girl who came up the river with you
and who was afterwards hurt is my daughter. And then when I come back,
I find the Hampton house closed, and no one at home. That's the
situation, and it's enough to drive a man crazy."
"It sartinly is most puzzlin'," the captain agreed. "Strange, Martha,
isn't it?" and he turned to his wife. "But, then, perhaps they've all
gone fer a car ride. It's a fine night fer a spin."
"But Mrs. Hampton told me that her son would most likely be home when I
came back from the quarry," Randall explained. "It seems to me that I
am being deceived and checked on all sides. I wonder what is the
reason?"
"The reason, sir, is very clear," Mrs. Tobin replied. "The sympathy of
all is with your daughter because of the way you have treated her. I
admire her for what she did."
"Madame, madame, I am astonished at you," Randall declared.
"You needn't be astonished at all, sir. I have listened to this
conversation, and see things in a new light. I could not understand my
husband's actions a few days ago, but now it is nearly all explained.
Sam'l," and she turned to her husband, "did you have this man's
daughter on board the 'Eb and Flo' the day you sailed by here without
stopping?"
"No, Martha, I did not," was the emphatic reply.
Mrs. Tobin looked at the captain for a few seconds in silence. Then
she detected a peculiar expression in his eyes, and at once surmised
its meaning.
"But, Sam'l, did you have a girl on board?"
"Yes, Martha, I did."
"Then you have been lying."
"No, I haven't. This man asked me if I had his daughter on board, an'
I told him I didn't. That gal might have been his daughter once, but
she isn't now. Any man who would treat a gal the way this man treated
that beautiful creature who tumbled into the cabin of the 'Eb and Flo'
has no right to call her his daughter, so thar."
"What fool-talk is this?" Randall impatiently asked. "I know now that
it was my daughter you had on board your boat. What you think about my
actions doesn't worry me in the least. Your quibbling is childish and
unbecoming to a man of your age. You will change your tune, though,
let me tell you that, when you are called upon to face the charge of
being involved in my daughter's wild escapade."
"Go ahead, Mister, go ahead. Whenever ye want me, jist sing out."
"Oh, I shall sing out, all right. You needn't think I'm bluffing.
When I undertake a thing I carry it through."
"An' I s'pose ye'll carry through the persecution of that gal ye call
yer daughter?"
"What do you mean?"
"Ye'll force her to marry that Lord's son, the feller with the wobbly
knees an' brainless head?"
"Yes, I am determined that she shall marry Lord Donaster's son. My
mind is made up to that, and nothing can change it."
"But ye haven't got yer daughter yit."
"Oh, that's merely a matter of time. She may escape me for a while,
but I shall get her sooner or later."
"But s'pose somebody else gits her first?"
"You mean young Hampton?" Randall somewhat anxiously asked.
"I sartinly do. He's hot on her trail, an' it looks to me as if
they're mighty fond of each other. Mebbe they're off now to be hitched
up. Ye kin never tell what notions young people'll take."
"Then I'll tear them apart," Randall angrily declared. "My daughter
shall never remain the wife of an ignorant country clown. But I don't
believe she would go that far. No doubt she is hiding somewhere. Have
you any idea where that might be?"
"I don't believe she's on board the 'Eb an' Flo' this time. Ye'll have
to hunt elsewhere."
"And I shall. I've lost too much time already, and I should be in the
city by now. I have an important business engagement there. Confound
it all!"
Without another word he turned and strode out of the house, slamming
the front door after him. There was silence in the room for a brief
space, broken at last by the captain's chuckle of amusement.
"Ho, ho," he laughed, "that feller got a dose to-night, didn't he?
What d'ye say, Martha? Got a big hand-out fer me now?"
"No, Sam'l," was the quiet reply. "I really can't scold you this time.
You did what was right in saving that poor girl from such a brutal
father. But why didn't you tell me about it?"
The captain shuffled uneasily, although his eyes twinkled.
"I was really afraid to, Martha," he confessed. "But I was wrong.
I'll never do sich a thing agin. The next gal who flops herself aboard
the 'Eb an' Flo,' I'll bring straight home fer you to look after."
"For pity's sake, Sam'l, I hope you'll never get into such a scrape
again. And you are not out of this one yet, from all appearance. Mr.
Randall is a hard man to deal with, and I feel sure that he intends to
go to law about this affair."
"He kin go to law, or to, or to----" The captain longed to say just
where, but he checked himself in time. "If Randall wants a fight, jist
let him come along. If he gits me into court I'll tell him a few
things I didn't mention to-night."
"But it may take our place, Sam'l," Mrs. Tobin reminded. "Mr. Randall
is a rich man and money will do almost anything these days."
"I don't care a hang, Martha, how much money he's got. I've got right
on my side, an' I guess that's never forsaken a man yit, not under the
Union Jack, at any rate. To save a gal from a brute of a father is
worth a great deal to my way of thinkin'. Hey, Eben, don't ye agree
with me? You had a hand in this."
The captain turned as he spoke, but his son was not in the room.
"Where in time is that boy?" the captain asked in surprise. "He was
here a few minutes ago."
"He followed Mr. Randall out," Flo explained, "and he hasn't come back
yet."
"I s'pose he wants to see that the skunk got away without stealin' any
chickens. It's jist as well to be on guard when a feller like that's
around. Jist hand me my pipe, will ye, Flo? I want a smoke to settle
me nerves. They've been upset a bit to-night."