VI

The heavy tread of Abner Nott echoed in the passage. Confused and

embarrassed, Renshaw remained standing at the door that had closed upon

Rosey as her father entered the cabin. Providence, which always

fostered Mr. Nott's characteristic misconceptions, left that

perspicacious parent but one interpretation of the situation. Rosey had

evidently just informed Mr. Renshaw that she loved another!

"I was just saying 'good-by' to Miss Nott," said Renshaw, hastily

regaining his composure with an effort. "I am going to Sacramento

to-night, and will not return. I--"

"In course, in course," interrupted Nott, soothingly; "that's wot you

say now, and that's what you allow to do. That's wot they allus do."

"I mean," said Renshaw, reddening at what he conceived to be an

allusion to the absconding propensities of Nott's previous tenants,--"I

mean that you shall keep the advance to cover any loss you might suffer

through my giving up the rooms."

"Certingly," said Nott, laying his hand with a large sympathy on

Renshaw's shoulder; "but we'll drop that just now. We won't swap

hosses in the middle of the river. We'll square up accounts in your

room," he added, raising his voice that Rosey might overhear him, after

a preliminary wink at the young man. "Yes, sir, we'll just square up

and settle in there. Come along, Mr. Renshaw." Pushing him with

paternal gentleness from the cabin, with his hand still upon his

shoulder, he followed him into the passage. Half annoyed at his

familiarity, yet not altogether displeased by this illustration of

Rosey's belief of his preference, Renshaw wonderingly accompanied him.

Nott closed the door, and pushing the young man into a chair,

deliberately seated himself at the table opposite. "It's just as well

that Rosey reckons that you and me is settlin' our accounts," he began,

cunningly, "and mebbee it's just ez well ez she should reckon you're

goin' away."

"But I AM going," interrupted Renshaw, impatiently. "I leave to-night."

"Surely, surely," said Nott, gently, "that's wot you kalkilate to do;

that's just nat'ral in a young feller. That's about what I reckon I'D

hev done to her mother if anythin' like this hed ever cropped up, which

it didn't. Not but what Almiry Jane had young fellers enough round

her, but, 'cept ole Judge Peter, ez was lamed in the War of 1812, there

ain't no similarity ez I kin see," he added, musingly.

"I am afraid I can't see any similarity either, Mr. Nott," said

Renshaw, struggling between a dawning sense of some impending absurdity

and his growing passion for Rosey. "For Heaven's sake speak out if

you've got anything to say."

Mr. Nott leaned forward, and placed his large hand on the young man's

shoulder. "That's it. That's what I sed to myself when I seed how

things were pintin'. 'Speak out,' sez I, 'Abner! Speak out if you've

got anything to say. You kin trust this yer Mr. Renshaw. He ain't the

kind of man to creep into the bosom of a man's ship for pupposes of his

own. He ain't a man that would hunt round until he discovered a poor

man's treasure, and then try to rob--'"

"Stop!" said Renshaw, with a set face and darkening eyes. "WHAT

treasure? WHAT man are you speaking of?"

"Why Rosey and Mr. Ferrers," returned Nott, simply.

Renshaw sank into his seat again. But the expression of relief which

here passed swiftly over his face gave way to one of uneasy interest as

Nott went on.

"P'r'aps it's a little highfalutin talkin' of Rosey ez a treasure. But,

considerin', Mr. Renshaw, ez she's the only prop'ty I've kept by me for

seventeen years ez hez paid interest and increased in valooe, it ain't

sayin' too much to call her so. And ez Ferrers knows this, he oughter

been content with gougin' me in that horse-hair spec, without goin' for

Rosey. P'r'aps yer surprised at hearing me speak o' my own flesh and

blood ez if I was talkin' hoss-trade, but you and me is bus'ness men,

Mr. Renshaw, and we discusses ez such. We ain't goin' to slosh round

and slop over in po'try and sentiment," continued Nott, with a

tremulous voice, and a hand that slightly shook on Renshaw's shoulder.

"We ain't goin' to git up and sing, 'Thou'st larned to love another

thou'st broken every vow we've parted from each other and my bozom's

lonely now oh is it well to sever such hearts as ourn for ever kin I

forget thee never farewell farewell farewell.' Ye never happen'd to

hear Jim Baker sing that at the moosic hall on Dupont Street, Mr.

Renshaw," continued Mr. Nott, enthusiastically, when he had recovered

from that complete absence of punctuation which alone suggested verse

to his intellect. "He sorter struck water down here," indicating his

heart, "every time."

"But what has Miss Nott to do with M. de Ferrieres?" asked Renshaw,

with a faint smile.

Mr. Nott regarded him with dumb, round, astonished eyes. "Hezn't she

told yer?"

"Certainly not."

"And she didn't let on anythin' about him?" he continued, feebly.

"She said she'd liked to know where--" He stopped, with the reflection

that he was betraying her confidences.

A dim foreboding of some new form of deceit, to which even the man

before him was a consenting party, almost paralyzed Nott's faculties.

"Then she didn't tell yer that she and Ferrers was sparkin' and keepin'

kimpany together; that she and him was engaged, and was kalkilatin' to

run away to furrin parts; that she cottoned to him more than to the

ship or her father?"

"She certainly did not, and I shouldn't believe it," said Renshaw,

quickly.

Nott smiled. He was amused; he astutely recognized the usual

trustfulness of love and youth. There was clearly no deceit here!

Renshaw's attentive eyes saw the smile, and his brow darkened.

"I like to hear yer say that, Mr. Renshaw," said Nott, "and it's no

more than Rosey deserves, ez it's suthing onnat'ral and spell-like

that's come over her through Ferrers. It ain't my Rosey. But it's

Gospel truth, whether she's bewitched or not; whether it's them damn

fool stories she reads--and it's like ez not he's just the kind o'

snipe to write 'em hisself, and sorter advertise hisself, don't yer

see--she's allus stuck up for him. They've had clandesent interviews,

and when I taxed him with it he ez much ez allowed it was so, and

reckoned he must leave, so ez he could run her off, you know--kinder

stampede her with 'honor.' Them's his very words."

"But that is all past; he is gone, and Miss Nott does not even know

where he is!" said Renshaw, with a laugh, which, however, concealed a

vague uneasiness.

Mr. Nott rose and opened the door carefully. When he had satisfied

himself that no one was listening, he came back and said in a whisper,

"That's a lie. Not ez Rosey means to lie, but it's a trick he's put

upon that poor child. That man, Mr. Renshaw, hez been hangin' round

the Pontiac ever since. I've seed him twice with my own eyes pass the

cabin windys. More than that, I've heard strange noises at night, and

seen strange faces in the alley over yer. And only jist now ez I kem

in I ketched sight of a furrin lookin' Chinee nigger slinking round the

back door of what useter be Ferrers's loft."

"Did he look like a sailor?" asked Renshaw quickly, with a return of

his former suspicion.

"Not more than I do," said Nott, glancing complacently at his

pea-jacket. "He had rings on his yeers like a wench."

Mr. Renshaw started. But seeing Nott's eyes fixed on him, he said

lightly, "But what have these strange faces and this strange

man--probably only a Lascar sailor out of a job--to do with Ferrieres?"

"Friends o' his--feller furrin citizens--spies on Rosey, don't you see?

But they can't play the old man, Mr. Renshaw. I've told Rosey she must

make a visit to the old Ranch. Once I've got her ther safe, I reckon I

kin manage Mr. Ferrers and any number of Chinee niggers he kin bring

along."

Renshaw remained for a few moments lost in thought. Then rising

suddenly he grasped Mr. Nott's hand with a frank smile but determined

eyes. "I haven't got the hang of this, Mr. Nott--the whole thing gets

me! I only know that I've changed my mind. I'm NOT going to

Sacramento. I shall stay HERE, old man, until I see you safe through

the business, or my name's not Dick Renshaw. There's my hand on it!

Don't say a word. Maybe it is no more than I ought to do--perhaps not

half enough. Only remember, not a word of this to your daughter. She

must believe that I leave to-night. And the sooner you get her out of

this cursed ship the better."

"Deacon Flint's girls are goin' up in to-night's boat. I'll send Rosey

with them," said Nott with a cunning twinkle. Renshaw nodded. Nott

seized his hand with a wink of unutterable significance.

Left to himself Renshaw tried to review more calmly the circumstances

in these strange revelations that had impelled him to change his

resolution so suddenly. That the ship was under the surveillance of

unknown parties, and that the description of them tallied with his own

knowledge of a certain Lascar sailor, who was one of Sleight's

informants--seemed to be more than probable. That this seemed to point

to Sleight's disloyalty to himself while he was acting as his agent, or

a double treachery on the part of Sleight's informants was in either

case a reason and an excuse for his own interference. But the

connection of the absurd Frenchman with the case, which at first seemed

a characteristic imbecility of his landlord, bewildered him the more he

thought of it. Rejecting any hypothesis of the girl's affection for

the antiquated figure whose sanity was a question of public criticism,

he was forced to the equally alarming theory that Ferrieres was

cognizant of the treasure, and that his attentions to Rosey were to

gain possession of it by marrying her. Might she not be dazzled by a

picture of this wealth? Was it not possible that she was already in

part possession of the secret, and her strange attraction to the ship,

and what he had deemed her innocent craving for information concerning

it, a consequence? Why had he not thought of this before? Perhaps she

had detected his purpose from the first, and had deliberately

checkmated him. The thought did not increase his complacency as Nott

softly returned.

"It's all right," he began with a certain satisfaction in this rare

opportunity for Machiavellian diplomacy, "it's all fixed now. Rosey

tumbled to it at once, partiklerly when I said you was bound to go.

'But wot makes Mr. Renshaw go, father,' sez she; 'wot makes everybody

run away from the ship?' sez she, rather peart like and sassy for her.

'Mr. Renshaw hez contractin' business,' sez I; 'got a big thing up in

Sacramento that'll make his fortun',' sez I--for I wasn't goin' to give

yer away, don't ye see. 'He had some business to talk to you about the

ship,' sez she, lookin' at me under the corner of her pocket

handkerchief. 'Lots o' business,' sez I. 'Then I reckon he don't care

to hev me write to him,' sez she. 'Not a bit,' sez I, 'he wouldn't

answer ye if ye did. Ye'll never hear from that chap agin.'"

"But what the devil--" interrupted the young man impetuously.

"Keep yer hair on!" remonstrated the old man with dark intelligence.

"Ef you'd seen the way she flounced into her stateroom!--she, Rosey, ez

allus moves ez softly ez a spirit--you'd hev wished I'd hev unloaded a

little more. No sir, gals is gals in some things all the time."

Renshaw rose and paced the room rapidly. "Perhaps I'd better speak to

her again before she goes," he said, impulsively.

"P'r'aps you'd better not," replied the imperturbable Nott.

Irritated as he was, Renshaw could not avoid the reflection that the

old man was right. What, indeed, could he say to her with his present

imperfect knowledge? How could she write to him if that knowledge was

correct?

"Ef," said Nott, kindly, with a laying on of large benedictory and

paternal hands, "ef yer are willin' to see Rosey agin, without SPEAKIN'

to her, I reckon I ken fix it for yer. I'm goin' to take her down to

the boat in half an hour. Ef yer should happen--mind, ef yer should

HAPPEN to be down there, seein' some friends off and sorter promenadin'

up and down the wharf like them high-toned chaps on Montgomery

Street--ye might ketch her eye unconscious like. Or, ye might do

this!" He rose after a moment's cogitation and with a face of profound

mystery opened the door and beckoned Renshaw to follow him. Leading

the way cautiously, he brought the young man into an open unpartitioned

recess beside her stateroom. It seemed to be used as a storeroom, and

Renshaw's eye was caught by a trunk the size and shape of the one that

had provided Rosey with the materials of her masquerade. Pointing to

it Mr. Nott said in a grave whisper: "This yer trunk is the companion

trunk to Rosey's. SHE'S got the things them opery women wears; this yer

contains the HE things, the duds and fixin's o' the men o' the same

stripe." Throwing it open he continued: "Now, Mr. Renshaw, gals is

gals; it's nat'ral they should be took by fancy dress and store clothes

on young chaps as on theirselves. That man Ferrers hez got the dead

wood on all of ye in this sort of thing, and hez been playing, so to

speak, a lone hand all along. And ef thar's anythin' in thar," he

added, lifting part of a theatrical wardrobe, "that you think you'd

fancy--anythin' you'd like to put on when ye promenade the wharf down

yonder--it's yours. Don't ye be bashful, but help yourself."

It was fully a minute before Renshaw fairly grasped the old man's

meaning. But when he did--when the suggested spectacle of himself

arrayed a la Ferrieres, gravely promenading the wharf as a last

gorgeous appeal to the affections of Rosey, rose before his fancy, he

gave way to a fit of genuine laughter. The nervous tension of the past

few hours relaxed; he laughed until the tears came into his eyes; he

was still laughing when the door of the cabin was suddenly opened and

Rosey appeared cold and distant on the threshold.

"I--beg your pardon," stammered Renshaw hastily. "I didn't mean--to

disturb you--I--"

Without looking at him Rosey turned to her father. "I am ready," she

said coldly, and closed the door again.

A glance of artful intelligence came into Nott's eyes, which had

remained blankly staring at Renshaw's apparently causeless hilarity.

Turning to him he winked solemnly. "That keerless kind o' hoss-laff

jist fetched her," he whispered, and vanished before his chagrined

companion could reply.

When Mr. Nott and his daughter departed Renshaw was not in the ship,

neither did he make a spectacular appearance on the wharf as Mr. Nott

had fondly expected, nor did he turn up again until after nine o'clock,

when he found the old man in the cabin awaiting his return with some

agitation.

"A minit ago," he said, mysteriously closing the door behind Renshaw,

"I heard a voice in the passage, and goin' out who should I see agin

but that darned furrin nigger ez I told yer 'bout, kinder hidin' in the

dark, his eyes shinin like a catamount, I was jist reachin' for my

weppins when he riz up with a grin and handed me this yer letter. I

told him I reckoned you'd gone to Sacramento, but he said he wez sure

you was in your room, and to prove it I went thar. But when I kem back

the d----d skunk had vamoosed--got frightened I reckon--and wasn't

nowhar to be seen."

Reashaw took the letter hastily. It contained only a line in Sleight's

hand. "If you change your mind, the bearer may be of service to you."

He turned abruptly to Nott. "You say it was the same Lascar you saw

before."

"It was."

"Then all I can say is he is no agent of de Ferrieres's," said Renshaw,

turning away with a disappointed air. Mr. Nott would have asked

another question, but with an abrupt "Good-night" the young man entered

his room, locked the door, and threw himself on his bed to reflect

without interruption.

But if he was in no mood to stand Nott's fatuous conjectures, he was

less inclined to be satisfied with his own. Had he been again carried

away through his impulses evoked by the caprices of a pretty coquette

and the absurd theories of her half imbecile father? Had he broken

faith with Sleight and remained in the ship for nothing, and would not

his change of resolution appear to be the result of Sleight's note?

But why had the Lascar been haunting the ship before? In the midst of

these conjectures he fell asleep.