THE BASIN
Brown’s Basin was off the beaten track, even nautically speaking. One
could never have found it except by the merest chance, unless one were
fortunate enough to have a companion who was familiar with it. The
rivermen knew, perhaps knew too well, as did the police who preferred to
get no closer to the colony than the shadowy inlet which sulks silently
in the daylight hours and strangely springs to life under cover of the
blackest nights.
The Basin, as it is more familiarly known, thrives under the protection
of the lofty Palisades. In summer the foliage all but hides it from the
shore, and in winter the grim, gray rocks give it ample security from
the prying eyes of the world. And the Basin wishes that security, for
the character of the residents is such that secrecy and isolation
provide the means for their livelihood and their existence.
Perhaps half a hundred derelict barges dot the slimy mud banks of the
Basin, some of them occupied and some not. But on the whole the combined
population of this sordid looking place represents a fair number and on
bright, sunlit mornings one can get an occasional glimpse from the steep
river road of poorly clad children scrambling from one to the other of
the closely packed barges, much the same as they would scramble across
city streets.
Large planks connect the sprawling hulks in a sort of interminable chain
and the denizens can traverse the entire settlement by this means. More
often than not the family laundry waving in the damp river breeze on the
forward deck must be dodged by this strolling citizenry, but they are
quite used to all forms of adroit evasion, particularly where the law is
concerned.
It was into this little lawless colony that the _Minnie M. Baxter_ was
towed. Sunset had long since gone, leaving but a hint of vermilion
colored sky at the horizon as the kicker chugged silently farther and
farther into the muddy waters of the inlet. Skippy steered the
motor-boat and Toby Dare struggled at the tiller of the barge while most
of the colonists looked on indifferently. They sprawled about on the
various decks, men, women and children.
Criticism, both friendly and otherwise, reached Toby Dare’s sensitive
ears, but he paid little heed, using his own judgment as to a suitable
spot in which to rest the ill-fated barge. It was a spot at the very
edge of the Basin that he chose and so manifest was its isolation from
the rest of the colony that but one inference could be drawn: Toby Dare
did not intend his son or himself to be drawn into that maelstrom of
dubious citizenry. His grief over the recent misfortune in no way
blunted his keen senses and, as always, Skippy’s future welfare was
uppermost in his mind.
“They’re people what ain’t partic’lar ’bout things, Sonny,” he explained
while the _Minnie M. Baxter_ was settling in the mud. “They—well, they
can’t help it, but they’re folks what ain’t carin’ whether their boys is
fetched up right or not. They jest let their kids live day after day
sorta an’ they don’t think uv next year. Me, I’m always a-thinkin’ ’bout
you a year ahead—see? So it ain’t no use botherin’ with folks what
thinks different.”
“I see, Pop,” said Skippy looking musingly into the rust-colored water.
“You know all about ’em, huh?”
“More’n they know themselves, Sonny. Ain’t they slaves fer Ol’ Flint
same as I was? Only I did more uv his high class dirty work. I overseed
’em load an’ unload the stuff fer Ol’ Flint an’ it paid enough ter keep
my sonny in a shack ashore where he didn’t see his Pop helpin’ ter beat
the law. Now when I thought I was through with that an’ ready ter give
yer a clean, honest start—_where am I?_” He buried his face in his
hands.
Skippy touched his father on the shoulder with a trembling hand.
“Aw, Pop—forget it, huh? I can help soon too, can’t I? When I get my
workin’ papers I can. I’ll even go to night school an’ I’ll be honest
an’ like a gentleman just the same as if the _Minnie M. Baxter_ wasn’t
condemned an’ we could haul garbage an’ ashes an’ make plenty.” He was
quite exhausted by this lengthy declaration but his eyes were full of
shining hope.
Toby Dare raised his head.
“Yer a-meanin’ well, Sonny, but yer ain’t got no idea how hard it is ter
do anythin’ without a little money. Besides, it sort uv taints a man’s
own fam’ly even, when he’s worked fer Ol’ Flint. Decent, honest
shipowners give a man the go-by when they find out yer been a Flint man.
Yer blackballed, in other words, Sonny—see? Yer ain’t given no chance
ter work at an honest job no matter how bad yer want to. An’ I can’t do
nothin’ but river work an’ the like—I ain’t never done nothin’ else! The
only thing fer a man like me ter do was ter try an’ go on his own hook
like I meant ter do with the _Minnie M. Baxter_. Now I can’t do that
unless—unless....” His large, yellow teeth seemed to close over the word
hopefully.
“Unless what, Pop?” Skippy asked eagerly.
“Unless I kin make him give me back my money an’ I kin buy another
_Minnie M. Baxter_.” He choked a little and shook his disheveled head.
“But that’s too much ter hope fer, Skippy. Ol’ Flint’s never been known
ter give anythin’ back—it’s me that oughta know that. I was a fool ter
think he could be honest with me—_me_, a poor workman uv his. Why, Ol’
Flint’s bragged he’d skin anybody what was fool enough ter _be_
skinned.”
Skippy shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other.
“So then will you go to a lawyer like Inspector Jones told you? To
please me, Pop, will you?”
“I’m a-goin’ nowheres but ter see Ol’ Flint,” answered Toby hoarsely.
“That swell yacht uv his is anchored in the bay an’ he’s livin’ aboard
it durin’ this hot spell so I know where ter find him after workin’
hours. He ain’t only ten years older ’n me an’ he’s in good condition
an’ jest my size so....”
“Pop—Pop, you got fight on your mind an’ it’s just the way Inspector
Jones warned you not to go to see Mr. Flint! Besides, it ain’t gonna be
half bad here till we can think up sumpin’ else to do. Forget about Mr.
Flint if you’re jus’ thinkin’ of him on accounta me. I’ll be all
right——”
“I’ll forget anythin’ ’ceptin’ that Ol’ Flint’s cheated me with a grin
on his slick face,” said Toby Dare with an ominous softness in his
voice. “So I’m a-goin’ ter teach him a lesson, Skippy—I’m a-goin’ ter
teach him that Toby Dare can’t be cheated outa everythin’ he’s hoped
fer, fer years, without hittin’ back. Yessir, Ol’ Flint’s gotta learn
what it means ter cheat me!”
“Pop—Pop! You ain’t goin’—honest?”
“I am. I’m a-goin’ sure as guns.”
“When—when you goin’, Pop?”
“_Tonight!_”