ALEC'S DECISION
Bitter, indeed, were Alec's thoughts as he stumbled down the office
stairs. Blinding tears stood in his eyes. His heart seemed dead within
him. He felt sick all over--sick and indignant. Ever since he was a tiny
child his father had taught him that his honor and his good name were to
be treasured above all things. Never before had anybody even suspected
him of dishonesty. Now he was worse than suspected. He was both accused
and practically condemned. For it was perfectly evident to Alec that the
oyster shipper still doubted him.
As Alec turned the situation over in his mind, his indignation grew
fiercer and fiercer. He told himself that Captain Bagley had no right to
leave the money in the ship's cabin, as he did; and Alec was right. He
told himself that Captain Bagley should have told him to guard the
money, when he rushed off after the shipper; and again Alec was right.
"I was free to come and go," said Alec to himself, "and Captain Bagley
had no right to assume that I would stay on the _Bertha B_ all the
time, when there is so much that is interesting to see and learn. Why,
anybody can walk into any of these boats at any time, and Captain Bagley
knows that as well as I do. And if somebody dishonest came aboard and
nobody was in the cabin and some money was lying loose, what could the
captain expect? It wasn't fair for him to do what he did. It wasn't
fair. He never said a word to me about his money and now he holds me
responsible for its loss. It isn't fair! It isn't fair!"
In deep distress Alec walked up and down under the pier shed. He saw
nothing, heard nothing, felt nothing, but his own distress.
"And I was trying so hard to be helpful and to show my appreciation of
Captain Bagley's kindness," said Alec to himself. "Kindness! Bah! Let
him keep his kindness for others. What I want is justice. I'll leave him
and his old boat and go where people will treat me fair. That's all the
kindness I want--just a square deal."
In his bitterness Alec was himself unjust. With the inexperience of
youth, he reasoned that because he had been questioned as to his honesty
he had necessarily been condemned. He failed to see that his employers
owed it to him as well as to themselves and all the other oystermen to
find out who was the thief. Necessarily they had to question Alec first,
for circumstances certainly did point to him.
The more he brooded over the matter, the more indignant he felt. "I
won't stay here another minute," he said. "I won't have anything to do
with men who have so little fairness." And he headed for the _Bertha B_
to get his valise and the few poor possessions in it. But half-way down
the pier he stopped abruptly. A new idea popped into his head. "If you
go aboard the _Bertha B_ and take your things, and anything else should
disappear, they'll say you stole the thing and ran away."
He pondered over the situation. "Run away!" he muttered. "That's just
what you were about to do. An honest man doesn't run away when he's
under fire. He stays and fights. Why, if I had run away, they'd never
have doubted that I was the thief. Gee! I'm glad I thought in time." And
Alec fairly shivered at the thought of what would have happened had he
foolishly gone away.
"I'll fight," he muttered. "That's what I'll do. I'll show them I'm as
honest and square and smart and able as any man that ever walked these
planks. That's what I'll do. I'll be an oysterman, too. That's settled.
I'll be a planter and shipper, too. I'll be just as big a man at Bivalve
as Captain Rumford or anybody else. I'll show them what Alec
Cunningham's got in him. I'll work and work and work and study and study
and save my money, and some day I'll have the finest oyster-boat that
sails out of this port. And I'll call her _Old Honesty_, too. And she
won't be any old-fashioned sailing boat done over. She'll be an
up-to-date oyster-boat, scientifically made. Captain Rumford will have
to scrap his whole fleet when my new boat gets to work. He'll find it
was a costly thing to call me a thief, that's what he will."
Now all faintness of heart had gone from Alec. The feeling of sickness
had left him. He was all aglow with determination and purpose. He felt
that the die was cast. He had made up his mind. He felt as strong as
Atlas, as indomitable as Jupiter. In his vision he saw the delectable
goal, but he could not see the hard and painful path that led up to it.
Nor was all this as foolish as it might seem to many an older head.
Dreams are the thing that accomplishments are made of--dreams and work.
Often the faith and enthusiasm of youth are more effective than the
coldly reasoned acts of maturity. And now, though eventual success was
no whit nearer than it had been a few moments previously, Alec felt
immensely better in mind. He had come to a decision. He had mapped his
course. He meant to keep his job, if that were at all possible, and
fight. And he meant to fight until he got to the top.
Now his footstep was no longer stumbling. He walked with a firm tread.
As he strode up and down the pier, his heart was beating the call to
arms.
Suddenly he stopped in his tracks. On the adjoining pier was Hawley.
Although it was now dark, Alec could see him plainly in the glow of the
pier shed's lights. There could be no mistake as to the man's identity.
Where he had come from, Alec had no idea; nor had he a much clearer
idea of where the man was going, for Hawley, plainly intoxicated, was
reeling about uncertainly. And he was dangerously near to the edge of
the pier. He was on the ferry pier, where the tugboat from across the
river landed its passengers; and no oyster-boat had tied up at the end
of this pier. Beyond its edge was only deep, dark, cold, swirling water.
At sight of Hawley, a feeling of hatred leaped into Alec's heart. He
wanted to rush over to the pier and attack this man who had tried to
kill him.
Suddenly Alec's heart stood still. The drunken sailor, reeling at the
very edge of the pier, stumbled over a coil of rope, and fell backward
over the string-piece, bellowing like a mad bull. Then there was a
splash and silence.
For a single instant Alec stood as though rooted to the floor. For one
second he exulted at the disaster that had overtaken his enemy. Then a
shudder ran over him as he realized that in thought, at least, he was a
murderer, and that was a million times worse than being a thief.
"Help! Help!" he cried at the top of his voice. "Man overboard at the
ferry landing!"
At the same time he rushed to the end of the pier and looked right and
left for a trace of the missing sailor. In the darkness he could see
only inky water.
Now he heard men running on the plank floor. "A light!" he cried. "Bring
a light!"
In a moment the watchman was beside Alec with his lantern. Behind him
came running the shipper and Captain Bagley. Alec seized the lantern and
threw himself prone on the wharf. He held the light over the
string-piece, while he looked right and left into the muddy water.
"Know who it was?" asked Captain Bagley, as he peered over Alec's
shoulder.
"Hawley--drunk," said Alec briefly.
"The deuce!" exclaimed the skipper. "That's the end of him. He can't
swim."
There was a swirl in the water a little way out from the pier. An arm
and a shoulder writhed into view, then sank. Like a flash Alec was on
his feet. He dropped the lantern on the pier, tore off his coat, and
plunged headlong toward the swirl in the water.
In a moment his head popped up. "A rope!" he cried, then sank beneath
the tide. The water began to foam and bubble. For an instant the
struggling men came into view. An arm was around Alec's neck and another
about his body. The men on the pier saw that he was struggling
frantically in the clutch of the drowning sailor. The fight was
terrific. Hawley clung to the lad with the strength of a giant, choking
and strangling him. Alec worked frantically to get his arms free,
treading water desperately to keep his head up. He swallowed quantities
of muddy, salt water. Under the awful pressure about his neck, his eyes
seemed to be fairly bulging from his head. Swiftly the tide swept the
struggling men toward the next pier, where a row of oyster-boats lay
fast. If the water carried them under the boats it meant the end of Alec
and Hawley.
Captain Bagley raced around to the adjoining pier and out on a boat.
Then he darted over the knighthead and lowered himself on the chains
until he was level with the water.
"Bring that light, quick!" he cried.
The aged watchman hobbled to him as fast as he was able. Captain Rumford
picked up the coil of rope, carried it swiftly aboard the boat, and made
ready for a cast.
The tide swept the struggling sailors nearer. With all his power Alec
was trying to free himself from the grip that was strangling him. His
strength was almost gone. He could no longer see anything. His head was
pounding. His brain seemed to swirl. But he tried desperately to keep
his wits. He knew that unless he got free it would all be over in
another moment. Now he wrenched his arms loose. Down under the tide sank
the struggling men again, churning the water to foam in their struggles.
"Oh God!" cried Captain Bagley. "If only I could swim."
Above him the watchman steadied the light, while the shipper stood
tense, the looped end of the hawser in his hand, ready to make his cast.
Down, down, down went the fighting sailors. But now Alec had his arms
loose. With his last ounce of strength he shoved his hand over the arm
that was strangling him and gripped the sailor by the nose. With his
other hand he dealt him as savage a blow as he could in the pit of his
stomach. The effect was magical. The sailor loosened his strangle hold
and doubled up like a jack-knife. Alec grasped the man by the hair, and
with all the strength left in him, struggled upward. His head popped out
of water not ten feet from Skipper Bagley. The sailor, now unconscious,
came to the surface. Alec could do no more. He turned on his back and
tried to float. It seemed to him that he could not even wriggle his
fingers. He was on the verge of unconsciousness himself. Yet he kept
tight hold of Hawley's hair.
Then a voice that seemed to be almost overhead put new life in him.
"Catch this rope," it said, "and slip it under your arms."
There was a splash in the water and the rope fell across his very
fingers. Mechanically he grasped it. But he could not get it around his
body. He slipped his free arm through the noose. Gently the rope
tightened and he moved ahead through the water, the unconscious sailor
trailing behind him. In a second Captain Bagley had him by the coat
collar. Then the noose was slipped under both of Alec's arms.
"Easy now," cried the skipper, as he held himself on the chains with his
legs, keeping Hawley's head above water with one hand, while he steadied
Alec with the other. Strong arms pulled on the rope, and in a moment
Alec was safe. Then the rope was made fast about Hawley, and shortly his
prostrate form lay on the deck.
Captain Bagley tore off his own coat and wrapped it around Alec. "Run to
the _Bertha B_," he said, "and get them wet things off. Stir up the fire
and get something hot inside you."
"In a m-m-m-minute," said Alec, his teeth chattering. "We've g-g-got to
save Hawley first."
"You get out of this," thundered the oyster shipper. "We'll take care of
Hawley."
He grabbed the unconscious sailor by the heels and lifted him straight
up. Captain Bagley drew down the man's tongue with his handkerchief.
Water gushed from the sailor's open mouth. The watchman squeezed the
man's ribs to try to press out more. Then they laid him on his back and
began to pump his arms up and down.
"That's too fast," cried Alec, who was making haste slowly and watching
them from the pier. "Fifteen times a minute is right, and you ought to
press in his ribs when you pull down his arms."
"You get aboard the _Bertha B_," shouted Captain Bagley, "or I'll heave
you overboard again."
"We've got to get him out of this cold air," said the shipper, for in a
few minutes Hawley began to breathe. "Let's take him into the cabin of
this boat."
The watchman led the way with his lantern, while the two captains
carried the bulky form of the sailor down the companionway.
"Get his clothes off," said Captain Rumford.
Captain Bagley began to strip off the wet garments. Somehow Hawley's
pocket-knife had worked up above his belt, taking the trousers' pocket
with it. Captain Bagley could not loosen the belt buckle. He drew his
own knife and started to cut off the offending pocket. The sailor's
knife came tumbling out. After it slipped a tiny roll of round, green
paper with a rubber band about it. For an instant Captain Bagley seemed
paralyzed. Then he grabbed the roll and tore off the band. A number of
wet greenbacks unrolled under his trembling fingers. Inside of them was
another roll of bills, also fastened with a rubber band. Inside of all
was a check. The ink on it had run, but the captain was still able to
read the name on the check. The check was payable to Captain Christopher
Bagley.