AN AFFAIR OF OUTPOSTS
The business of making fast the vessel had no interest for Nancy
McDonald. The thing that was about her, the thing that had leapt at her
out of the haze hanging over the waters of Farewell Cove, as the _Myra_
steamed to her haven, pre-occupied her to the exclusion of everything
else. Her feelings were something of those of the explorer suddenly
coming upon a new, unguessed world.
"Old Man" Hardy was at her side, waiting for the adjustment of the
gangway. He was quietly observing her with a sense of enjoyment at the
obvious surprise and interest she displayed. Besides, her beauty charmed
him for all his years. And then had she not been entrusted to his
especial care by those people who held powerful influence in all
concerning the coastal trade upon which he was engaged?
Sachigo was not only a mill. It was a--city. This was the sum of Nancy's
astonishing discovery. And the picture of it held her fascinated. She
commented little, she had questioned little of the old skipper at her
elbow. The thing she saw was too overwhelming. Besides, reticence was
impressed upon her by the nature of her visit.
"It's a mighty elegant place," the seaman said at last.
The girl nodded. Then she smiled.
"I've seen trolley cars on the seashore. I've seen electric standards
for lighting. What am I to see next on--Labrador?" she asked.
Captain Hardy laughed.
"You've to see the folks who've done it all," he replied. "And--there's
one of 'em."
He indicated the squat figure of Bat Harker leaning against some bales
piled on the quay. Nancy turned in that direction.
She discovered the rough-clad, almost uncouth figure of Bat. She noted
his moving jaws as he chewed vigorously. She saw that a short stubble of
beard was growing on a normally clean-shaven face, and that the man's
clothing might have been the clothing of any labourer. But the iron cast
of his face left her with sudden qualms. It was so hard. To her
imagination it suggested complete failure for her mission.
"Is he the--owner? Is he--Mr. Sternford?" Her questions came in a hushed
tone that was almost awed.
"No. That's Bat--Bat Harker. He's mill-boss."
"I see." There was relief in Nancy's tone. But it passed as the seaman
continued.
"Maybe he's waiting for you though. Are they wise you're coming along?
You don't see Bat around this quay without he's lookin' for some folk to
come along on the _Myra_."
The gangway clattered out on to the quay, and the man moved toward it.
"We best get ashore," he said. "You see, mam, my orders are to pass you
over to the folks waiting for you. That'll be--Bat. He'll pass you on
to Sternford. I take it you'll sleep aboard to-night. Your stateroom's
booked that way. We sail to-morrow sundown, which will give you plenty
time looking around if you fancy that way. I allow Sachigo's worth it.
One day it'll be a big city, if I'm a judge. Will you step this way?"
The seaman's deference was obvious. But Nancy remained oblivious to it.
To her it was just kindliness, and she was more than grateful. But his
final remark about Sachigo left her pathetically disquieted. For the
first time in her life she doubted the all-powerful position of the
people to whom she had sold her services.
"Yes, thanks," she returned, smiling to disguise her feelings. Then she
added, "I'm glad we don't sail till to-morrow evening. You see, I
couldn't leave--this, without a big look around."
* * * * *
The ship-master had hurried away.
Bat's deep-set eyes were steadily regarding the beautiful face before
him. He was gazing into the hazel depths of Nancy's eyes without a sign.
He had noted everything as the girl had come down the gangway. The
height, the graceful carriage in the long plucked-beaver coat which
terminated just above the trim ankles in their silken, almost
transparent, hose. Not even at Captain Hardy's pronouncement of her name
had he yielded a sign. And yet--
"Miss--Nancy McDonald?"
Bat's tone had lost its usual roughness. His mind had leapt back over
many years to a time when he had been concerned for that name in a way
that had stirred him to great warmth. He smiled. It was a baffling,
somewhat derisive smile.
"You're the lady representing the--Skandinavia?" he added.
"Why, yes," Nancy cried, "and I feel I want to thank you for the
privilege of obtaining even an outside view of your wonderful, wonderful
place here."
Bat raked thoughtfully at the stubble on his chin.
"If you feel that way, Miss, it'll hand me pleasure to show you and tell
you about things," he said. "You come right out of what the folks around
here like to call the enemy camp, but it don't matter a little bit. Not
a little bit. The whole of Sachigo's standin' wide open for you to walk
through." Then he dashed his hand across his face to clear the voracious
mosquitoes. "But if we stop around here mor'n ha'f another minute, the
memory you'll mostly carry away with you from Labrador'll be
skitters--an' nothing much else. Will you come right along up to Mr.
Sternford's office? It's quite a piece up the hill, which helps to keep
it clear of skitters an' things?"
Nancy laughed. Her early impression of the super-lumberjack had passed.
The man's smile was beyond words in its kindliness. His deep, twinkling
eyes were full of appeal.
"Why, surely," she assented. "If you'll show me the way I'll be glad.
The flies and things are certainly thick, and as I intend leaving
Sachigo with happy memories, well--"
"Come right along. I'm here for just that purpose."
As they made their way up the woodland trail they talked together with
an easy intimacy. Nancy was young. She was full of the joy of life, full
of real enthusiasm. And this rough creature with his ready smile
appealed to her. His frank, open way was something so far removed from
that which prevailed under the Skandinavia's rule.
For Bat, the walk up from the quayside was one of the many milestones in
his chequered life. He talked readily. He listened, too. But under it
all his thought was busy. The mystery of Father Adam's letter was no
longer a mystery. He understood. But he was also puzzled. How had this
thing come about? How had Father Adam learned of this visit? How had
this girl become representative of the Skandinavia? A hundred questions
flashed through his mind, for none of which he could find a satisfactory
answer. But he smiled to himself as he thought of that last line in
Father Adam's letter. "Treat her gently--firmly, yes--but very gently.
You see, she's a--woman."
* * * * *
It was a moment likely to live with both in the years to come. For Nancy
it was at least the final stage of her apprenticeship, the passing of
the portal beyond which opened out the world she so completely desired
to take her place in. Did it not mean the moment of shouldering the
great burden of responsibility she had so steadfastly trained herself to
bear? For Bull Sternford it had no such meaning. His powers had long
since been tested. As a meeting with the representative of a rival
enterprise it was merely an incident in the life to which he had become
completely accustomed. Its significance lay in quite another direction.
Bat had taken his departure. He had witnessed the meeting of Nancy with
this protégé Father Adam had sent him from the dark world of the
forests. And his witness of it had been with twinkling eyes, and the
happy sense of an amusement he had never looked to discover in the
presence of a representative of the Skandinavia. In an unexpressed
fashion he realised he was gazing upon something in the nature of a
stage play.
He had found Bull transformed. The office suit was gone. The man's hair
was carefully brushed. He even suspected the liberal use of soap and
water. And then, too, the heavy, rough boots had given place to shining
patent leather. The youth and human nature of it pleased him. So he had
departed to the workshops below with a voiceless chuckle, and a greater
appreciation of the inevitability of the things of life.
Apart from Nancy's appreciation of that meeting, the woman in her sought
to appraise the man she beheld. Her impression was far deeper than she
knew. The height and muscular girth she beheld left her with a feeling
that she was gazing upon one of the pictures her school-girl mind had
created for the great men of Greek and Roman history. The clean-shaven,
clear-cut face, with its fine eyes and broad brow, its purposeful mouth;
these were details that had to be there, and were there. And somehow, as
she realised them, and the sense of the man's power and personality
forced itself upon her, her original confidence still further lessened,
and she wondered not a little anxiously as to the outcome of this
interview she had sought.
As for the man, his eyes had calmly smiled his spoken greeting. His
handshake had been conventionally firm. But behind the mask of it all
was one great surge of feeling. The vision of a beautiful, fur-coated
figure, with the peeping lure of pretty ankles, the warm cap pressed low
on the girl's head as though endeavouring to hide up the radiant framing
of the sweetest, most beautiful face he felt he had ever seen, dealt all
his preconceived purpose for the interview one final, smashing blow.
"I'm real glad to welcome you to Sachigo," he had begun. Then in a
moment, the conventional gave place to the man in him. "But say," he
added with a pleasant laugh, "we've a big piece of talk to make. You
best let me help you remove that coat. The stove we always need to keep
going here on Labrador makes this shanty hot as--very hot."
The manner of it sent convention, caution, business pose, scattering to
the winds. The girl laughed and yielded.
"Why, thanks," she said readily. "I'm glad you reckon we're to make a
big talk. You see," she added slyly, "I've been looking out of the
window, and there's quite a drop below. Up to now I felt my fur
might--be useful."
Bull laughed as he laid the coat aside. He had drawn up a comfortable
lounging chair which Nancy was prompt to accept. For himself he stood at
the window.
"Why, yes." He smiled. "I'd say it's a wise general who looks to his
retreat before the encounter. I'd sort of half forgotten you come from
the--Skandinavia."
"But I hadn't."
"No."
They both laughed. Nancy leant back in her chair. Her pose was all
unconscious. She had toiled hard to keep pace with the sturdy gait of
Bat in the ascent from the quay. Now she was glad of the ease the chair
afforded.
"Why did you say that?" Nancy asked a moment later.
Bull spread out his great hands.
"The Skandinavia don't usually let folks forget they're behind them."
"Now that's just too bad. It--it isn't generous," the girl said half
seriously.
"Isn't it?"
Bull left the window and took the chair that was usually Bat's. He set
it so that he could feast his eyes on the beauty he found so
irresistible.
"You see," he went on, "I've got a right to say that all the same. It's
not the--the challenge of a--what'll I say--competitor? I once had the
honour of drawing a few bucks a month on the paysheets of the
Skandinavia. And folks reckoned, and I guess I was amongst 'em, that
Skandinavia said to its people: 'Make good or--beat it.' That being so
it makes it a sure thing they're not liable to leave you forgetting
who's behind you."
His smile had gone. He was simply serious. This man had worked for her
people, and Nancy felt he was entitled to his opinion.
"That's going to make my talk harder," she said. "I'm sorry. But there,"
she went on. "It doesn't really matter, does it? Anyway I want to tell
you right away of the craze the sight of your splendid Sachigo has
started buzzing in my head. Say, Mr. Sternford, it beats anything I ever
dreamed, and I want to say that there's no one in the Skandinavia, from
Mr. Peterman downwards, has the littlest notion of it. It's not a mill.
It's a world of real, civilised enterprise. And it's set here where
you'd look for the roughest of forest life. I just had no idea."
It was all said spontaneously. And the pleasure it gave was obvious in
the man's eyes. He nodded.
"Yes," he said. "The construction of this mill, here on Labrador, isn't
short of genius by a yard. And the genius of it lies where you won't
guess."
Nancy's pretty eyes were mildly searching.
"You're the head of Sachigo," she suggested.
Bull's eyes lit.
"Sure," he cried, "an' I'm mighty proud that's so. But I'm not the
genius of this great mill. No. That grizzled, tough old lumberman who
toted you along up from the quayside is the brain of this organisation.
He's a--wonder. There's times I want to laff when I think of it. There's
times I'm most ready to cry. You see, you don't know that great feller.
I'm just beginning to guess I do. He's a heart as big as a house, and
the manner to scare a 'hold-up.' He's the grit of a reg'ment of soldiers
and the mutton softness of a kid girl. He's the brain of a Solomon, and
the illiteracy of a one day school kid. He's all those things, and he's
the biggest proposition in men I've ever heard tell about. It's kind of
tough. Don't you feel that way? He'll suck a pint of tobacco juice in
the day, and blaspheme till your ears get on edge. And while your folks
are guessing he'll put through a proposition that 'ud leave ha'f the
world gasping."
Nancy stirred. This man's whole-hearted appreciation of another was
something rather fine in her simple philosophy. The last thing she had
contemplated in approaching the head of a rival enterprise was such talk
as this. But somehow it seemed to fit the man. Somehow as she noted the
squarely gazing eyes, and the power in every line of his features, she
realised that whatever lines he chose to talk on, nothing could change
the decision lying behind it all. She liked him all the better for that,
and found herself drawing comparison between him and Elas Peterman to
the latter's detriment.
"I like that," she cried impulsively. Then the colour rose in her cheeks
at the thought of her temerity. "I guess he's all you say. Maybe some
day I'll hear his side of things. I'd like to. You see--I felt I'd known
him years when he brought me in here. Maybe you won't understand what
that implies."
"I think I do."
Bull stood up from his chair and passed round his desk.
"Here, say, Miss McDonald," he went on, in his keen fashion. "You come
from Skandinavia. And I guess you come on a pretty stiff proposition.
It's going to be difficult for you to hand it me. Maybe you're young in
the game. Well, it doesn't matter a thing. Now we're going to start
right in talking that proposition, and I'm going to help you. But before
that starts I just want to say this. You, I guess, are going right back
on the _Myra_ and she sails to-morrow, sundown. That means you'll stay a
night in Sachigo--"
"I'm stopping on the vessel. It's all fixed."
Bull sat down at his desk.
"I'm kind of glad," he said, with a shade of relief. "It isn't that you
aren't welcome to all the old hospitality Sachigo can hand you. You're
just more than welcome. But Bat hasn't built his swell hotel yet," he
laughed. "And as for us here, why, we 'batch' it. There isn't a thing in
skirts around this place, only a Chink cook, a half-breed secretary, and
a clerk or two, and a bum sort of decrepit lumber-jack who does my
chores. So you see I'm--kind of relieved. Anyway you sleeping on the
_Myra_ makes it easy. Now there's a mighty big conceit to me, and it's
all for this mill in our country's wilderness. And I just can't let you
quit to-morrow night without showing you all it means. You've simply got
to see the thing that's going to make the whole world's groundwood trade
holler before we're through. You're my prisoner until you've seen the
things I'm going to show you. Is it anyway agreeable?"
Nancy smiled delightedly.
"You couldn't drive me out of Sachigo till I've peeked into all your
secrets down there," she said.
Bull leant forward with his arms outspread across the desk.
"Great!" he cried. "And," he added, "you shall see them all. The things
I can't show you Bat will. And if I'm a judge that old rascal'll be
tickled to death handing his dope out to you. But--let's get to
business."
Nancy sat up. In a moment all ease was banished. She knew the great
moment had come when she must prove herself to those who had entrusted
her with her mission.
"Yes," she said, almost hurriedly. "I don't know the word Mr. Peterman
sent you. And anyway it doesn't matter. I must put things my way. You
are a great enterprise here. We are a great enterprise. It looks to us a
pretty tough clash is bound to come between us in the near future,
and--there should be no necessity for it. There's room--plenty of
room--for both of us in our trade--"
She paused. The keen eyes of Bull were closely observing. He realised
her attitude. Her words and tone were almost mechanical, as though she
had schooled herself and rehearsed her lesson. And her voice was not
quite steady. He jumped in with the swift impulse of a man whose rivalry
could not withstand that sign of a beautiful girl's distress.
"Here," he cried, with that command so natural to him. "Just don't say
another word. Let me talk. I guess I can tell you the things it's up to
you to hand me. It'll save you a deal, and it'll hand me a chance to
blow off the hot air that's mostly my way. This is the position.
Peterman's wise to the things doing right here. The Skandinavia's up
against years of cutting on the Shagaunty. The Shagaunty's played right
out. You folks have got to open new stuff. It's my job to know all this.
Very well. As I said, Peterman's at last got wise to us. He knows we
look like flooding the market, and jumping right in on him. So--you're a
mighty wealthy corporation--he figures to recognise us, and embrace
us--with a business arrangement. That so?"
"Yes. A business arrangement."
The girl's relief was almost pathetic. Bull smiled.
"That's so. A business arrangement. Should I entertain one, eh? That's
the question you're right here to ask. And you want to take back my
answer." He paused. "Well, you're going to take back my answer. And I
kind of feel it's the answer you'll like taking back. Say, Miss
McDonald, I'm only a youngster, myself, but I guess I know what it means
to set out on a work hoping and yearning to make good. Will it make good
for you to go back to Elas Peterman and say the feller at Sachigo is
coming right along down by the _Myra_ to-morrow, and would be pleased to
death to talk this proposition right out in the offices of the
Skandinavia? Will it?"
Nancy's eyes lit. Their hazel depths were wells of thankfulness.
"Why, surely," she said. "You mean you're going to sail to-morrow?"
Bull laughed and his laugh was infectious. The girl was smiling her
delight.
"That's so. I need to cross the Atlantic. I wasn't going till the
_Myra's_ next trip. I'll go to-morrow an' stop over in Quebec to see
your people. It just means hurrying my choreman packing my stuff while I
show you around to-morrow. That kind of fixes things, and if you'll hand
me that pleasure I'd just love to show you around some this afternoon.
There's a heap to see, and I don't fancy you missing any of it." He
passed round the desk, and picked up the girl's coat and held it out
invitingly. "Will you come right along?"
There was no denying him. Nancy looked up into his smiling eyes. She
felt there was a lot she wanted to say, ought to say, on the business
matter in hand. But it was impossible. And in her heart she was
thankful.
"Why, I'd just love to," she said, and stood up from her chair.
Very tenderly, very carefully the man's hands helped her into her coat.
And somehow Nancy was very glad the hands were big, and strong,
and--yes--clumsy.