Jimmy and his companions sat on the balcony formed by the flat roof of
the veranda in front of Jaques' store. It was a fine evening and a light
breeze stirred the dust in the streets of the wooden town. Beyond the
ugly, square-fronted buildings that straggled down to the wharf, the
water lay shining in the evening light, and through a gap the sloop
showed up distinctly, riding in the harbor mouth. On the other hand, a
blaze of crimson burned above the crest of a hill and the ragged pines
stood out harshly sharp against the glow. Work was over for the day, and
groups of men lounged in chairs on the sidewalks outside the hotels,
while here and there a citizen and his family occupied the stoop of his
dwelling.
Jimmy had briefly related their adventures in the North, though nothing
had yet been said about the party's future plans. Now, however, Jaques
and his wife were waiting to discuss them.
"Clay must have died soon after you left the yacht," the storekeeper
said. "As you believe his son is friendly, we have no opposition to
fear; and we may as well settle what is to be done."
"Bethune is our business manager," Jimmy said. "Perhaps he will give us
his opinion."
Bethune leaned forward with a thoughtful air.
"In the first place, the matter is not so simple as it looks. We don't
know the whole story of the wreck, and I'm inclined to think we'll never
learn it. On the other hand, there's much to be guessed, and one could
form a theory which would be rather hard to contradict. In fact, except
for certain prejudices, I believe we could make some money out of it."
"You can call them prejudices, if you like," Mrs. Jaques broke in. "For
all that, it would be wiser to act up to them."
"It's possible," Bethune agreed. "Just the same, we're in a rather
responsible position."
"I'm a trader," Jaques remarked. "I want a fair profit on the money I
lay out; but I stop at that. All the money I take is for value
supplied."
Jaques turned to Jimmy.
"Now that we're talking about it, did you see where Clay got that case?"
"I didn't; nor did anybody else. We were too busy to trouble about
examining the hole he crawled into. I suppose there must have been a
space between the top of the strong-room and the floor of the poop
cabin."
"It's a curious place to stow a box of gold. You can understand their
putting the sham case in the strong-room if they meant to wreck the
boat; but then why didn't they ship the genuine stuff by another
vessel?"
"That," said Bethune, smiling, "is the point where my theory breaks
down. The only explanation I can think of seems too far-fetched to
mention."
"We will let it go," Mrs. Jaques interposed quickly. "What do you
suggest doing with the gold you brought home?"
"We'll take it to the underwriters and press for all the salvage we can
get. If they're not inclined to be liberal, we'll go to court."
"And the sham box? Will you give them that?" Mrs. Jaques asked.
Jimmy had been expecting the question, and he saw that he must speak. He
knew that a fraud had been plotted in connection with the wreck; but it
was not his business to investigate the matter. He admitted that this
view might be challenged, but he was determined to act upon it.
Suspicion rested on Osborne; but Jimmy had made up his mind that,
whatever happened, Ruth should not suffer on his account. No sorrow or
hint of shame must rest on her. Moreover, he had, in a sense, made Clay
a promise; the dying man had trusted him.
"I claim that case," he said quietly. "I told Clay I'd give it to
Osborne."
There was silence for a few moments, and then Jaques looked up.
"Well," he said, "I'm not sure that's not the best way out of it. What's
your idea, Mr. Bethune?"
"On the whole, I agree with you. Somebody may have meant to wreck the
vessel, but we have no proof to offer; and, after all, it's the gold
that concerns us, and the underwriters who paid for it when lost will
get it back. This ought to satisfy them; and I don't see that it's our
part to go any further into the matter." He smiled as he added: "I'll
admit it's a course that seems likely to save us a good deal of
trouble."
They decided to deposit the gold in the vaults of an express company in
Victoria, and that Bethune should then open negotiations with the
insurers.
"I guess I could sell the _Cetacea_ for you at a moderate price," Jaques
said. "One of the boys here thinks of going into the deep-water
fishery."
"I'd be sorry to part with the boat, but we have no use for her," Jimmy
replied. "Our idea is that if we can get enough from the insurance
people we might make a venture in the towing and transport line. A small
wooden, propeller tug wouldn't cost very much; and we might even begin
with a big launch or two."
"It ought to pay," declared Jaques. "The coasting trade's pretty good;
in fact, I often have to wait some time before I can get my truck
brought up."
"It's only beginning," Bethune said. "The coastline of this province is
still practically undeveloped, but it's studded with splendid natural
harbors, and the extension of the new railroads to the sea will give
trade a big impetus. The men who get in first will make their profit. Of
course, I'm looking forward a few years to the time when the narrow
waters will be covered with steamboats, but in the meanwhile there's a
living to be picked up by towing booms for the sawmills and collecting
small freight among the northern settlements."
He spoke with enthusiasm, and Jaques looked eager.
"I guess you're right. First of all, you have to see the underwriters;
then if you have any use for a few more dollars, let me know. I might
help you in several ways."
They talked the project over, though Bethune and Jaques took the leading
part, and Jimmy sat by Mrs. Jaques in a state of quiet content. At the
cost of much hardship and toil, he had done what he had undertaken, and
now a promising future was opening up. He had confidence in Bethune's
judgment; the path they were starting on might lead to fortune. The
thought of Ruth Osborne beckoned Jimmy forward. He was determined that
none of the obstacles they would no doubt meet with should turn him
aside. He had not his partner's versatile genius, but he was endowed
with a cool courage and a stubborn tenacity which were likely to carry
him far.
With a gesture his hostess indicated her husband and Bethune.
"They're getting keen, but I must say that Tom's not often mistaken in
business matters. He seems to think your prospects are good."
"We must try to make them good," Jimmy responded. "It was a fortunate
thing for us that we met your husband. We were in a very tight place
when he helped us."
"I've wondered why you didn't go to sea again before that happened. It
would have been the easiest way out of your troubles."
Jimmy grew confidential.
"I had a strong reason for not wishing to leave the province."
"Ah!" exclaimed Mrs. Jaques, and beamed upon him. "I understand. I hope
you have made a wise choice. Falling in love is rather a serous thing. I
suppose she's pretty?"
"She's beautiful!"
Mrs. Jaques smiled.
"So you stayed in Vancouver on her account! She would naturally wish to
keep you."
"I have no reason for believing that," Jimmy answered with a downcast
expression.
"You mean--"
Mrs. Jaques gave him a searching look before she finished her sentence:
"--that you don't know whether she is fond of you or not?"
Jimmy hesitated, and the blood crept into his face as he thought of the
night he had helped Ruth out of the launch.
"It may be a long time before I find out," he said. "The trouble is that
she's a rich man's daughter."
"What is his name? Your confidence is safe."
"Osborne."
Mrs. Jaques showed her surprise, and Jimmy laughed.
"Oh, of course you think I'm mad. Now and then I feel sure of it
myself."
She studied him quietly for a moment. He was handsome, and had an
honest, good-humored face, but there was a hint of force in it. He
looked reliable, a man to trust, and Mrs. Jaques had a warm liking for
him.
"No," she said; "I don't think so. Perhaps you're rash; but, after all,
daring's better than cautious timidity--it carries one farther. Of
course, there will be difficulties; but I wouldn't despair. This a
country where a bold man has many chances."
"Thank you," murmured Jimmy. "You have made me hopeful." He looked up
abruptly as Bethune addressed him. "Oh, yes," he said hastily. "Quite
so."
"Quite so!" exclaimed Bethune. "My impression is that you haven't heard
a word I said."
"I believe that's possible," Mrs. Jaques laughed. "However, he has a
good excuse. You can't blame him for talking to me."
The party broke up soon afterward, and the next morning the sloop sailed
for Victoria. Jimmy spent several anxious days in the city before he got
a telegram from Bethune informing him that he had come to terms with the
underwriters. They were more liberal than Jimmy had hoped, and he
thought there should be money enough to launch the new venture in a
modest way. He gave the express company orders to deliver the gold, and
then set off to visit Osborne.
It was evening when he reached the house. He entered it longing to see
Ruth and wondering how she would greet him, but disturbed about his
meeting with her father. He was shown at once into the library, and
Osborne rose to receive him.
"Aynsley Clay told me that you would call, and I am glad you have done
so," he said cordially. "I hope you will stay for a few days."
"Thanks, I'm afraid not," Jimmy answered. "Perhaps I had better get my
business done. I really came because Clay asked it; he made me promise
to bring you something. I left it in the hall."
Osborne rang a bell and a square package neatly sewed up in canvas was
brought in. Jimmy placed it on the table as soon as they were alone, and
began to cut the stitches.
"I don't know whether you'll be surprised or not," he said, as he
uncovered a strong wooden box which showed signs of having long been
soaked in water.
"That!" exclaimed Osborne, dropping into the nearest chair. "Who found
that box?"
"I did--in the steamer's strong-room."
Beads of perspiration stood on Osborne's forehead, and he was breathing
with difficulty.
"Do you know--what it contains?" he gasped.
"Yes," Jimmy answered quietly. "It isn't gold. Some of the stuff is
still inside but I took the rest out to save weight."
Osborne leaned back in his chair, limp from the shock.
"When did you find it?" he asked.
"About eight months ago, roughly speaking."
"And Clay knew about it all along?"
"No. We didn't tell him until a week before his death."
"That sounds curious," Osborne said suspiciously. "Since you were silent
so long, why did you speak about the thing at last?"
"It looked as if we might have trouble. Clay could have prevented our
working, and when he came off to talk matters over we told him about the
case. In the end, he lent us his diver and all the assistance he could."
"And was that the only concession he made?"
"Yes," said Jimmy with a flush. "It was all we demanded and all we got.
It would simplify things if you took that for granted."
"I suppose you know you were easily satisfied?" Osborne's tone was
ironical.
Jimmy made no response.
"Am I to understand that the case is mine absolutely, to do what I like
with?" Osborne asked.
"Yes. You may regard it as a gift from Clay."
"Who knows anything about the matter besides yourself?"
"My two partners, and a storekeeper who financed us, and his wife.
They're to be trusted. I'll answer for them."
"Well," said Osborne quietly, "you'll allow me to remark that you and
your friends seem to have acted in a very honorable manner. That Clay
should send me the case was, in a sense, characteristic of him; but I
had no claim on you. If you won't resent it, I should like to thank you
for the line you have taken."
"I haven't finished my errand yet. You probably know that we salved a
quantity of the gold, but you cannot have heard that we recovered and
have accounted for every package that was insured."
Osborne looked puzzled. He indicated the box on the table.
"You mean counting this one?"
"No; we found a duplicate, containing gold of rather more than the
declared weight, on which the underwriters have paid our salvage claim."
Osborne started, and his face expressed blank astonishment.
"But it sounds impossible! I can't understand--"
"It's puzzling," Jimmy agreed. "There's obviously a mystery; but, after
talking the thing over, my partners and I decided that we wouldn't try
to unravel it."
"Perhaps you are wise. You are certainly considerate. But, still, I
don't see--Did you find the thing in the strong-room?"
"Not in the room. Clay showed me where to cut a hole in the roof. He
crawled through and brought out the box. I imagine it was hidden among
the deckbeams, but we hadn't time to examine the place."
"Ah!" exclaimed Osborne; for a light dawned on him as he remembered his
partner's determined attempt to break through the cabin floor on the
night of the wreck. "Perhaps you are right. So the insurance people paid
your claim and asked no questions. Did they seem satisfied?"
"Yes. I think the matter's closed."
There was keen relief in Osborne's face, and the slackness of his pose
suggested the sudden relaxing of a heavy strain. He sat very still for a
few moments and then got up.
"Mr. Farquhar," he said, "you must guess the satisfaction with which I
have heard your news. Indeed, I feel that I must think over it quietly.
If you will excuse me for a while, Miss Dexter and my daughter will be
glad to entertain you."
"But I must get back as soon as possible," Jimmy objected, feeling that
to stay, as he longed to do, would be embarrassing both to himself and
to his host.
"You can't leave before to-morrow," said Osborne, smiling. "There's no
night boat now, the launch is under repairs, and my car's in town. I'm
afraid you'll have to put up with our hospitality."
He rang the bell, and when Jimmy left him he sat down with knitted
brows. He wondered where Clay had got the gold. Then suddenly his fist
clenched tightly and his frown grew deeper: he remembered that somebody
had worked out the alluvial mine before they reached it. There was cause
for grave suspicion there, particularly as the case had been put on
board secretly, without appearing on the ship's papers, which would have
brought it to Osborne's knowledge.
The box of gold, however, was not of the first importance. Clay, on his
deathbed, perhaps by way of making reparation, had sent him a gift which
had banished the apprehensions that had haunted him for years. Whatever
Clay had done, Osborne could forgive him now. At last he was a free man:
the only evidence against him was in his hands, and he meant to destroy
it at once. After all, he had bitterly regretted his one great offense;
and his partner's last act had been to save him from its consequences.