strip of scantling, undoubtedly from the deckload that the _Polly_
had jettisoned when she was tripped. It lay to windward, and that fact
promised its recovery; but how was the tide? Mayo squinted at the sun,
did a moment's quick reckoning from the tide time of the day before, and
smiled.
“We'll get that, Miss Candage. She's coming this way.”
Watching it, seeing it lift and sink, waiting for it, helped to pass the
time. Then at last it came alongside, and he crawled cautiously down the
curve of the bilge and secured it. After he had braced it in the hole
in the schooner's bottom with the help of Mr. Speed, the girl gave him a
crumpled wad of cloth when he turned from his task.
“It's the rest of my petticoat. You may as well have it,” she explained,
a pretty touch of pink confusion in her cheeks.
Mr. Speed boosted Mayo and the young man attached the cloth to the
scantling and flung their banner to the breeze. Then there was not much
to do except to wait, everlastingly squinting across the bright sea to
the horizon's edge.
X ~ HOSPITALITY, PER JULIUS MARSTON
Hoo--oo--rah; and up she rises!
Hoo--oo--rah! and up she rises!
Early in the morning.
What shall we do with a saucy sailor?
Put him in the long boat and make him bail 'erv
Early in the morn--ing!
--Old “Stamp-and-go.”
Mayo saw the sail first. It was coming in from the sea, and was very far
and minute. He pointed it out with an exclamation.
“What do you make it, sir?” asked Captain Candage. “Your eyes are
younger 'n mine are.”
“I reckon it's a fisherman bound in from Cashes Banks. He seems to be
lying well over, and that shows there's a good breeze outside. He ought
to reach near enough to see us, judging from the way he's heading.”
That little sail, nicked against the sky, was something else to watch
and speculate on and wait for, and they forgot, almost, that they were
hungry and thirsty and sun-parched.
However, Captain Mayo kept his own gaze most steadfastly on the landward
horizon. He did not reveal any of his thoughts, for he did not want
to raise false hopes. Nevertheless, it was firmly in his mind that no
matter what might be the sentiments of Julius Marston in regard to his
recent skipper, the mate and engineer on board the _Olenia_ were loyal
friends who would use all their influence with the owner to urge him to
come seeking the man who had been lost.
The fact that a motor-boat had come popping out of Saturday Cove in
pursuit of the schooner suggested that Mate McGaw had suspected what had
happened, and was not dragging the cove-bottom for a drowned man.
Mayo had plenty of time for pondering on the matter, and he allowed hope
to spice his guesses. He knew Mate McGaw's characteristics and decided
that the yacht would get under way early, would nose into a few near-by
harbors where a gale-ridden schooner might have dodged for safety, and
then would chase down the sea, following the probable course of a craft
which had been caught in that nor'easter. Mate McGaw was a sailorly man
and understood how to fit one fact with another. He had a due portion of
mariner's imagination, and was not the sort to desert a chum, even if
he were obliged to use stiff speech to convert an owner. Therefore, Mayo
peered toward the blue shore-line, coddling hope. He wondered whether
Mate McGaw would have courage to slip a word of encouragement to Alma
Marston if she asked questions.
Mayo was elated rather than astonished when he spied a smear of drab
smoke and was able to determine that the craft which was puffing that
smoke was heading out to sea, not crawling alongshore.
“That's a fisherman all right, and he's bound to come clost enough to
make us out,” stated Captain Candage, his steady gaze to southward.
“But here comes another fellow who is going to beat him to us,”
announced Captain Mayo, gaily.
“And what do you make it?” asked the skipper, blinking at the distant
smoke.
“A yacht, probably.”
“Huh? A yacht! If that's what it is they'll most likely smash right
past. They'll think we're out here on a fishing picnic, most like.
That's about all these yacht fellers know.”
The girl gave her father a frown of protest, but Mayo smiled at her.
“I think this one is different, sir. If I am not very much mistaken,
that is the yacht _Olenia_ and she is hunting me up. Mate McGaw is one
of our best little guessers.”
A quarter of an hour later he was able to assure them that the on-coming
craft was the _Olenia_.
“Good old Mate McGaw!” he cried, rapturously. In his joy he wished he
could make them his confidants, tell them who was waiting for him on
board that yacht, make them understand what wonderful good fortune was
his.
After a time--the long time that even a fast yacht seems to consume in
covering distance to effect the rescue of those who are anxious--the
Olenita's whistle hooted hoarsely to assure them that they had been
seen.
“The same to you, Mate McGaw!” choked Captain Mayo, swinging his cap in
wide circles.
“Seeing that things have come round as they have, I'm mighty glad for
you, Captain Mayo,” declared Candage. “I ain't no kind of a hand to
plaster a man all over with thanks--”
“I don't want thanks, sir. We worked together to save our lives.”
“Then I'm hoping that there won't be any hard feelings one way or the
other. I have lost my schooner by my blasted foolishness. So I'll say
good-by and--”
“Good-by?” demanded Mayo, showing his astonishment. “Why are you saying
good-by to me now?”
“Because you are going aboard your yacht.”
“The rest of you are going there, too.”
“It ain't for poor critters like us to go mussing--”
“Look here, Captain Candage, I am the captain of that yacht, and I say
that you are coming on board and stay until I can set you ashore at the
handiest port.”
“I'd just as lieve wait for that fisherman, sir. I'll feel more at home
aboard him.”
“You ought to think of your daughter's condition first, Captain Candage.
She needs a few comforts right away, and you won't find them on board a
fisherman.”
He turned to the girt who sat on the keel, silent, looking away to sea.
She seemed to show a strange lack of interest in the yacht. Her pretty
face exhibited no emotion, but somehow she was a wistfully pathetic
figure as she sat there. Mayo's countenance showed much more concern
than she expressed when she faced about at the sound of his voice and
looked at him. Color came into his cheeks; there was embarrassment in
his eyes, a queer hesitancy in his tones.
“There is a young lady--there are several young ladies--but there is Mr.
Marston's daughter!” he faltered. “She is on the yacht. I--I know she
will do all she can for you. She will be good to you!” His eyes fell
under her frank and rather quizzical gaze.
“She might not care to be bothered with such a ragamuffin.”
“I can speak for her!” he cried, eagerly. He was now even more disturbed
by the glance she gave him. He had read that women have intuition in
affairs of the heart.
“I am quite certain you can, Captain Mayo,” she assured him, demurely.
“And I am grateful. But perhaps we'd be better off on board that other
vessel--father and the rest of us.”
“I insist,” he said, but he did not dare to meet her searching eyes. “I
insist!” he repeated, resuming the decisive manner which he had shown
before on board the _Polly_.
The _Olenia_, slowing down, had come close aboard, and her churning
screws pulled her to a standstill. Her crew sent a tender rattling down
from her port davits. As she rolled on the surge her brass rails caught
the sunlight in long flashes which fairly blinded the hollow eyes of
the castaways. The white canvas of bridge and awnings gleamed in snowy
purity. She was so near that Dolph smelled the savory scents from her
galley and began to “suffle” moisture in the corners of his mouth.
They who waited on the barnacled hulk of the Polly, faint with hunger,
bedraggled with brine, unkempt and wholly miserable after a night of
toils and vigil, felt like beggars at a palace gate as they surveyed her
immaculateness.
A sort of insolent opulence seemed to exude from her. Mayo, her captain
though he was, felt that suggestion of insolence more keenly than his
companions, for he had had bitter and recent experience with the moods
of Julius Marston.
He did not find Marston a comforting object for his gaze; the
transportation magnate was pacing the port alley with a stride that was
plainly impatient. Close beside the gangway stood Alma Marston, spotless
in white duck. Each time her father turned his back on her she put out
her clasped hands toward her lover with a furtive gesture.
Polly Candage watched this demonstration with frank interest, and
occasionally stole side-glances at the face of the man who stood beside
her on the schooner's bottom; he was wholly absorbed in his scrutiny of
the other girl.
Mate McGaw himself was at the tiller of the tender. His honest face was
working with emotion, and he began to talk before the oarsmen had eased
the boat against the overturned hulk.
“I haven't closed my eyes, Captain Mayo. Stayed up all night, trying
to figure it out. Almost gave up all notion that you were aboard the
schooner. You didn't hail the boat we sent out.”
“I tried to do it; perhaps you couldn't hear me.”
Captain Candage's countenance showed gratitude and relief.
“This morning I tried Lumbo and two other shelters, and then chased
along the trail of the blow.”
Mayo trod carefully down the bilge and clasped the mate's hand. “I was
looking for you, Mr. McGaw. I know what kind of a chap you are.”
McGaw, still holding to the captain's hand, spoke in lower tones. “Had
a devil of a time with the owner, sir. He was bound to have it that you
had deserted.”
“I was afraid he would think something of the sort.”
The mate showed frank astonishment. “You was afraid of _what?_ Why,
sir, I wanted to tell him that he was a crazy man to have any such ideas
about you! Yes, sir, I came nigh telling him that! I would have done it
if I hadn't wanted to keep mild and meek whilst I was arguing with him
and trying to make him give me leave to search!”
“We have had a terrible time of it, Mr. McGaw,” stated Mayo, avoiding
the mate's inquisitiveness. “I am going to take these folks on board and
set them ashore.”
“Ay, sir, of course.”
The two of them stood with clasped hands and held the tender close to
the wreck until the passengers embarked. When they reached the foot of
the _Olenia_'s steps Captain Mayo sent his guests ahead of him.
Marston paused in his march and scowled, and the folks on the
quarter-deck crowded to the rail, showing great interest.
Captain Mayo exchanged a long look with Alma Marston when he came up
the steps. Love, pity, and greeting were in his eyes. Her countenance
revealed her vivid emotions; she was overwrought, unstrung, half-crazed
after a night spent with her fears. When he came within her reach
caution was torn from her as gossamer is flicked away by a gale. Impulse
had always governed her; she gave way to it then.
“I don't care,” she sobbed. “I love you. They may as well know it!”
Before he understood her intentions or could prevent her rashness she
flung her arms about his neck and kissed him repeatedly.
Marston stood in his tracks like a man stricken by paralysis; his cigar
dropped from his open mouth. This exhibition under his very nose, with
his guests and the whole crew of his yacht looking on, fairly stunned
him.
“If you had died I would have died!” she wailed.
Then her father plunged toward her, elbowing the astonished Beveridge
out of his way.
Captain Mayo gently unhooked the arms of the frantic girl from about his
neck and stepped forward, putting himself between father and daughter.
He was not taking sensible thought in the matter; he was prompted by an
instinctive impulse to protect her.
Mayo had no word ready at his tongue's end, and Mar-ston's anathema was
muffled and incoherent. The girl's rash act had tipped over the sane and
manly self-possession of both of them. The captain was too bewildered
to comprehend the full enormity of his action in standing guard over the
daughter of Julius Marston, as if she needed protection on her father's
quarter-deck. He did not move to one side of the alley when Marston
jerked an impatient gesture.
“I want to say that I am wholly to blame, sir,” he faltered. “I hope you
will overlook--”
“Are you presuming to discuss my daughter's insanity with me?” He
noticed that the sailors were preparing to hoist the tender to the
davits. “Drop that boat back into the water!” he shouted. There was an
ugly rasp in his voice, and for a moment it seemed as if he were about
to lose control of himself. Then he set a check on his temper and
tongue, though his face was deathly white and his eyes were as hard as
marbles. Resolve to end further exhibition in this incredible business
dominated his wrathful shame.
“If you will set us ashore--” pleaded Mayo.
“Get back into that boat, you and your gang, whatever it is!”
“Mr. Marston, this young woman needs--”
“Get into that boat, or I'll have the bunch of you thrown overboard!”
The owner spoke in low tones, but his furious determination was
apparent.
“We will go without being thrown, sir. Will you order us set aboard that
fisherman?” He pointed to the little schooner which was almost within
hailing distance.
“Get off! I don't care where you go!” He crowded past Mayo, seized his
daughter's arm, and led her aft.
She seemed to have expended all her determination in her sensational
outburst.
The captain met her pleading gaze as she turned to leave. “It's for the
best,” he declared, bravely. “I'll make good!”
The pathetic castaways from the _Polly_ made a little group at the
gangway, standing close to the rail, as if they feared to step upon the
white deck. Mate McGaw intercepted Mayo as he was about to join them.
“Hadn't I better stretch Section Two of the collision act a mite and
scare him with the prospect of a thousand-dollar fine?” asked the mate,
eagerly. “My glory, Captain Mayo, I'm so weak I can hardly stand up!
Who'd have thought it?”
“We'll go aboard the schooner, Mr. McGaw. It's the place for us.”
“Maybe it is, but I'll speak up if you say the word, and make him set
you ashore--even if I leave along with you?”
“Keep your job, sir. Will you pick up my few little belongings in my
stateroom and bring them to me, Mr. McGaw? I'd better stay here on deck
with my friends.” He emphasized the last word, and Captain Candage gave
him a grateful look. “I'm sorry, mates! I can't say any more!” Captain
Mayo did not allow himself to make further comment on the melancholy
situation. The others were silent; the affair was out of their
reckoning; they had no words to fit the case. Polly Candage stood
looking out to sea. He had hoped that she would give him a glance of
understanding sympathy, at least. But she did not, not even when he
helped her down the steps into the tender.
Mate McGaw came with the captain's bag and belongings, and promptly
received orders from the owner from the quarter-deck.
“Go on to the bridge and hail that schooner. Tell her we are headed for
New York and can't be bothered by these persons!”
Mr. McGaw grasped Mayo's hand in farewell, and then he hurried to his
duty. His megaphoned message echoed over their heads while the tender
was on its way.
“Ay, ay, sir!” returned the fishing-skipper, with hearty bellow. “Glad
to help sailors in trouble.”
“And that shows you--” blurted Captain Candage, and stopped his say in
the middle of his outburst when his daughter shoved a significant fist
against his ribs.
Captain Mayo turned his head once while the tender was hastening toward
the schooner. But there were no women in sight on the yacht's deck.
There was an instant's flutter of white from a stateroom port, but he
was not sure whether it was a handkerchief or the end of a wind-waved
curtain. He faced about resolutely and did not look behind again. Shame,
misery, hopelessness--he did not know which emotion was stinging him
most poignantly. The oarsmen in the tender were gazing upward innocently
while they rowed, but he perceived that they were hiding grins. His
humiliation in that amazing fashion would be the forecastle jest.
Through him these new friends of his had been subjected to insult. He
felt that he understood what Polly Candage's silence meant.
The next moment he felt the pat of a little hand on the fist he was
clenching on his knee.
“Poor boy!” she whispered. “I understand! It will come out right if you
don't lose courage.”
But she was not looking at him when he gave her a quick side-glance.
The fisherman had come into the wind, rocking on the long swell, dingy
sails flapping, salt-stained sides dipping and flashing wet gleams as
she rolled. Her men were rigging a ladder over the side.
“I want to say whilst we're here together and there's time to say it,”
announced Captain Candage, “that we are one and all mighty much obliged
for that invite you gave us to come aboard the yacht, sir, and we all
know that if--well, if things had been different from what they was you
would have used us all right. And what I might say about yachts and the
kind of critters that own 'em I ain't a-going to say.”
“You are improving right along, father,” observed Polly Candage, dryly.
“Still, I have my own idees on the subject. But that's neither here nor
there. You're a native and I'm a native, and I want ye should just look
at that face leaning over the lee rail, there, and then say that now we
know that we're among real friends.”
It was a rubicund and welcoming countenance under the edge of a rusty
black oilskin sou'wester hat, and the man was manifestly the skipper.
Every once in a while he flourished his arm encouragingly.
“Hearty welcome aboard the _Reuben and Esther_,” he called out when the
tender swung to the foot of the ladder. “What schooner is she, there?”
“Poor old _Polly_,” stated the master, first up the ladder. In his haste
to greet the fishing-skipper he left his daughter to the care of Captain
Mayo.
“That's too bad--too bad!” clucked the fishing-skipper, full measure of
sympathy in his demeanor. “She was old, but she was able, sir!”
“And here's another poor Polly,” stated Captain Candage. “I was fool
enough to take her out of a good home for a trip to sea.”
The skipper ducked salute. “Make yourself to home, miss. Go below. House
is yours!”
Then the schooner lurched away on her shoreward tack, and the insolent
yacht marched off down across the shimmering waves.
Mayo shook hands with the solicitous fisherman in rather dreamy and
indifferent fashion. He realized that he was faint with hunger, but he
refused to eat. Fatigue and grief demanded their toll in more imperious
fashion than hunger. He lay down in the sun in the lee alley, put his
head on his crossed arms, and blessed sleep blotted out his bitter
thoughts.
XI ~ A VOICE FROM HUE AND CRY
But when the money's all gone and spent,
And there's none to be borrowed and none to be lent,
In comes old Grouchy with a frown,
Saying, “Get up, Jack, let John sit down.”
For it's now we're outward bound,
Hur-rah, we're outward bound!
--Song of the Dog and Bell.
Captain Mayo, when he woke, had it promptly conveyed to him that
hospitality on board the _Reuben and Esther_ had watchful eyes. While he
was rubbing feeling back into his stiffened limbs, sitting there in the
lee alley, the cook came lugging a pot of hot coffee and a plate heaped
with food.
“Thought you'd rather have it here than in the cuddy. The miss is asleep
in the house,” whispered the cook.
Captain Candage came to Mayo while the latter was eating and sat down on
the deck. Gloom had settled on the schooner's master. “I don't want to
bother you with my troubles, seeing that you've got aplenty of your own,
sir. But I'm needing a little advice. I have lost a schooner that has
been my home ever since I was big enough to heave a dunnage-bag over
the rail, and not a cent of insurance. Insurance would have et up all my
profits. What do you think of my chances to make a dollar over and above
providing I hire a tugboat and try to salvage?”
“According to my notion your chances would be poor, sir. Claims in such
cases usually eat up all a craft is worth. Besides, you may find those
yachtsmen on your back for damages, providing you get her in where she
can be libeled.”
“I shouldn't wonder a mite,” admitted Captain Can-dage. “The more some
folks have the more they keep trying to git.”
“I was looking her bottom over while we sat there, and it must be owned
up that her years have told on her.”
“I hate to let her go.”
“That's natural, sir. But I have an idea that she will be reported as
a menace to navigation, and that a coastguard cutter will blow her up
before you can get around to make your salvage arrangements.”
“When a man is down they all jump on him.”
“I can agree with you there,” affirmed Captain Mayo, mournfully.
“She showed grit--that girl,” ventured Candage, giving the other man
keen survey from under his grizzled brows.
“I must ask you to furl sail on that subject, sir,” snapped Mayo, with
sailor bluntness.
“I only said it complimentary. Lots of times girls have more grit than
they are given credit for. You think they're just girls, and then you
find out that they are hero-ines! I thought I had some grit, but my own
Polly has shamed me. I was just down watching her--she's asleep in Cap'n
Sinnett's bunk. Made the tears come up into my eyes, sir, to ponder
on what she has been through on account of my cussed foolishness. Of
course, you haven't been told. But confession is good for a man, and I'm
going to own up. I took her with me to get her away from a fellow who is
courting her.”
Mayo did not offer comment. He wanted to advise the skipper to keep
still on that subject, too.
“I don't say he ain't good enough for her. Maybe he is. But I 'ain't
been realizing that she has growed up. When I found she was being
courted it was like hitting a rock in a fairway. You are young, and you
are around consid'able and know the actions of young folks. What's your
advice?”
“I don't know anything about the circumstances, sir.”
“But speaking generally,” insisted Captain Candage. “I want to do what's
right. There ain't many I can bring myself to ask. I'm a poor old fool,
I'm afraid. Won't you kind of grab in on this, Captain Mayo? I do need a
little advice.” His rough hands trembled on his knees.
“If the young man is worthy--is the right sort,” returned Mayo, in
gentler tones, “I think you are making a great mistake by interfering.”
“I'll go look that young fellow over--re-survey him, as ye might say,”
stated the skipper, after a moment's meditation.
“I don't know your daughter very well, sir, but I have much faith in her
judgment. If I were you I'd allow her to pick her own husband.”
“Thanks for that advice. I know it comes from a man who has shown that
he knows exactly what to do in emergencies. I have changed my mind about
her being courted, sir.”
“Honest love isn't a question of money, Captain Candage. Many good girls
are ruined by--” He was speaking bitterly and he checked himself. “Where
is Captain Sinnett going to set us ashore?”
“Maquoit. He is going to take his fish to the big market. But he said he
would set us ashore anywhere, and so I said Maquoit. I might as well be
there as anywhere till I know what I'm going to do.”
“Same thing holds good for me, I suppose. I don't feel like going to the
city just yet.”
Captain Sinnett came rolling into the alley, and when Mayo started to
thank him for the trouble he was taking he raised in genial protest a
hand which resembled in spread a split codfish.
“Trouble! It ain't trouble. Was going to call into Maquoit to ice up,
anyway. I know my manners even if them yachting fellows didn't.”
Captain Candage preserved the demeanor of innocence under Mayo's
scrutiny.
“I've missed you off the fishing-grounds--didn't know you had gone on to
a yacht, sir,” pursued Captain Sinnett. “Hope to see you back into the
fishing business again; that is, providing you don't go on one of
them beam trawlers that are hooking up the bottom of the Atlantic and
sp'iling the thing entire for us all.”
“I agree with you about the trawler; that's why I quit. And as to
yachting, I think I'll go after a real man's job, sir!”
“So do! You'll be contenteder,” replied the other, significance in his
tones.
Mayo knew that his secret had been exposed, but he had no relish for an
argument with Captain Candage on the subject of garrulity. He finished
his coffee and went forward where the fishermen were coiling the
gang-lines into the tubs.