A NASTY KNOCK
Frost sparkled on the office windows and Cartwright, with his feet on
the hearthrug studied an Atlantic weather chart. The temperature
reported by the liners' captains was low, and winter had begun unusually
soon. Since Cartwright had hoped for a mild November, this was unlucky.
As a rule, cargo is plentiful at Montreal shortly before the St.
Lawrence freezes and the last steamers to go down the river do so with
heavy loads. Cartwright's plan was to run a boat across at the last
moment and pick up goods the liners would not engage to carry, and he
had sent _Oreana_ because she was fast. When the drift ice began to
gather, speed was useful.
A cablegram two or three days since stated that she had sailed, and
Cartwright, who knew the St. Lawrence, calculated the progress she ought
to have made. Perhaps he had cut things rather fine, but Captain Davies
was a good navigator and would push on. Although the narrow waters below
Montreal, where the stream runs fast between the islands, would be open,
Lake St. Peter was freezing, and the liner _Parthian_ had some trouble
to get through. Still the channels were not yet blocked, and when Davies
had passed the Narrows he would get open water down the gorge to Quebec.
Allowing for cautious navigation, Davies ought to be near Rimouski at
the mouth of the river, and his passing would, no doubt, soon be
telegraphed from the signal station. Cartwright admitted that to get the
message would be some relief.
By and by his bookkeeper came in.
"Direct cablegram from Davies, sir."
Cartwright took the form and frowned. The message was not from Rimouski
and ran: "Delayed Peter; passing Quebec."
"Awkward, sir," Gavin remarked sympathetically.
"Very awkward," said Cartwright. "Davies needed all the time he's lost.
It will be a near thing if he gets out."
He picked up the weather chart and got no comfort. "Cable Malcolm at St.
Johns. You'll find questions in the code-book about ice and wind."
Gavin withdrew and Cartwright grappled with disturbing thoughts. He had
counted on _Oreana's_ earning a good sum, and had engaged a paying cargo
for her when she got back. In fact, the two good runs ought to have made
the disappointing balance sheet he must shortly submit to the
shareholders look a little better. All the same, there was no use in
meeting trouble. Davies had passed Quebec, and if he made good progress
in the next twenty-four hours, one might begin to hope.
Below Quebec there were awkward spots where steamers used buoyed
channels, and if these were blocked by ice Davies must risk crossing the
shoals. If he got across, the water was deep and he need only bother
about the floes until he came to the Gulf. Since Belle Isle Strait was
frozen, Davies would go South of Anticosti and out by the Cabot passage,
but the Gulf was often dark with snow and fog, and one met the old
Greenland ice. Well, much depended on the weather, and Cartwright went
to get his lunch.
The restaurant under a big building was warm, and for a time Cartwright
occupied his favorite corner of the smoking-room. His tips were
generous, and so long as he was punctual the waitress allowed nobody to
use his chair. The noise of the traffic in the street was softened to a
faint rumble, the electric light was cleverly shaded, and his big chair
was easy. He got drowsy, but frowned when he began to nod. The trouble
was, he was often dull when he ought to be keen. His doctor talked about
the advantages of moderation, but when one got old one's pleasures were
few and Cartwright liked a good meal. At the luncheon room they did one
well, and he was not going to use self-denial yet.
By and by a merchant he knew pulled up a chair opposite. "Very cold and
slippery outside," he remarked. "I nearly came down on the floating
bridge, and looked in for a drink. A jar shakes a man who carries
weight."
"What were you doing on the floating bridge?" Cartwright asked.
"I went to the stage to meet some Canadian friends on board the
_Nepigon_. They'd a bad voyage; thick mist down the St. Lawrence, and
they lost a day cruising about among the floes in the Gulf. What about
your little boat?"
"I understand she's coming down river."
"Hasn't she started rather late?"
"If I'd sent her sooner, the _Conference_ would have knocked me out,"
Cartwright rejoined. "I'd have got nothing but low-rated stuff the
liners didn't want. One must run some risks."
The other nodded. "That is so, when shareholders must be satisfied.
Well, I expect I'm lucky because my partner's a good sort. When you
needn't bother about other folk's greediness, you can take a cautious
line. Now I come to think of it, I heard some of your people grumbling.
I hope your boat will get across all right."
He got up and Cartwright pondered. If outsiders knew his shareholders
were dissatisfied, things were worse than he had thought and he might
expect trouble at the next meeting. Then he looked at his watch, but his
chair was deep and when he tried to get up his leg hurt. He sank back
again. Gavin knew where to find him if a reply from St. Johns arrived.
By and by his office boy, carrying a cable company's envelope, came in,
and Cartwright's hand shook when he opened the message. It stated that
an easterly gale and snowstorm raged about the Newfoundland coast and
the thermometer was very low. The gale would drive the drift ice up the
Gulf and pack the floes. Things looked bad. Cartwright felt he ought to
get about and make some plans to meet the threatened blow, but he did
not see what he could do.
He sat still. The other customers had gone, and all was quiet but for
the faint rumble of traffic and soothing throb of an electric fan.
Cartwright mused about _Oreana_ and pictured Davies sheltering behind
the wind-screens on his bridge and trying to pierce the snow, and the
look-out man half frozen in the spray that leaped about the forecastle.
_Oreana_ was a wet boat when she was loaded deep. Now and then, perhaps,
a buoy loomed in the tossing flakes. One tried to read the number and
see the color. Then the steering-engine rattled as the rudder was pulled
across and _Oreana_ headed for another mark.
The work was nervous, because dangerous shoals bordered the channels and
Davies must let the steamer go. He knew when a risk must be run and the
engineer was staunch. The trouble was, _Oreana's_ boilers were bad; the
money Cartwright durst not spend on repairs would have been a good
investment now. Still, the old boat was fast, and Davies would drive her
full-speed.
The captain's job would not be easier when he left the shoals. The
easterly gale would send the floes up stream. Cartwright knew the
strange chill one felt when ice was about and the faint elusive _blink_
that marked its edge in the dark. Sometimes one did not see the blink
until the floe was almost at the bows, and when the look-out's startled
cry reached the bridge one must trust to luck and pull the helm over
quick. Then to dodge the floe might mean one crashed upon the next. It
was steering blind, but, as a rule, the sailor's instinct guided him
right. Farther on, the river got wide and in thick weather one saw no
lights: Davies must keep mid-channel and trust his reckoning while he
rushed her along. For a thousand miles the old boat's track was haunted
by dangers against which one could not guard, and Cartwright thought she
carried his last chance to mend his broken fortunes.
If she were wrecked, the reckoning he had long put off must be fronted,
for when his embarrassments were known his antagonists would combine and
try to pull him down. One must pay for one's extravagance, but to pay
would break him, and if he were broken, Mortimer would sneer and Grace
treat him with humiliating pity. He would be their mother's pensioner,
and to lose his independence was hard. He had long ruled, and bullied,
others.
By and by a waitress moved some glasses and Cartwright looked up with a
start. The afternoon was nearly over; he must have gone to sleep.
Returning to the office, he gave his bookkeeper some orders and then
went to the station. The pavements were slippery with frost, and tall
buildings with yellow lights loomed in the fog. Cartwright shivered, but
reflected that Davies, fighting the snow and gale, was no doubt colder.
For a day or two he must bear the suspense, and then, if no cablegram
arrived, he could take it for granted that _Oreana_ had reached the
Atlantic. After dinner he sat by the fire and smoked while Mrs.
Cartwright knitted.
"In the afternoon I went to Mrs. Oliver's and met Mrs. Seaton," she said
presently. "She talked to me for some time. At the beginning, I thought
it strange!"
"It's pretty obvious that you don't like her," Cartwright remarked.
"Ellen Seaton is not my sort, but I understand she was a friend of
yours."
"She was my friend," said Cartwright carelessly. "It's long since, and I
rather doubt if she is my friend now."
"Then why did she buy her shares in the line?"
"Ellen did not buy the shares. Seaton bought them when shipping was
good."
Mrs. Cartwright looked relieved and Cartwright resumed: "All the same, I
don't see her object for telling you she was a shareholder."
"She wanted to sell her shares to me; I knew she had some plan when she
crossed the floor. I was talking to Janet, but Ellen got Janet away and
persuaded a young man on the other side to move. It was clever. I don't
think Mrs. Oliver or anybody else remarked what she was doing. But you
know Ellen!"
"I know Ellen rather well," said Cartwright dryly. "However, when you
saw she wanted to get you alone, why did you indulge her?"
"For one thing, I was curious; then it wasn't worth while to spoil her
plan. I didn't think Ellen would persuade me, if I did not approve."
Cartwright smiled. Clara did not argue much and generally agreed with
him, but sometimes she was as immovable as a rock. He pictured with
amusement the little comedy at Mrs. Oliver's, but all the same he was
annoyed.
"Well, Ellen wanted you to buy her shares? Did she give you any
grounds?"
"She declared she wanted money. Then she said it would help you if I
took the lot. There might be a dispute at the meeting; the directors'
report would not be satisfactory. People would ask awkward questions,
and she expected some organized opposition. It would be useful for you
to command a large number of votes."
Cartwright's face got red. Ellen was well informed; in fact, it was
ominous that she knew so much. Had she not been greedy, he thought she
would have kept the shares in order to vote against him, but she
obviously meant to sell them before the crash she expected came. If a
number of others agreed with her, his retirement would be forced.
"What price were you to pay?" he asked.
Mrs. Cartwright told him, and he laughed. "If Ellen found a buyer at a
number of shillings less, she would be lucky! Well, I understand you
didn't take her offer?"
"I did not," said Mrs. Cartwright tranquilly. "When I wanted to buy some
shares not long since, you did not approve. Since you refused to let me
help, I didn't mean to be persuaded by Ellen Seaton!"
"You're staunch," said Cartwright and Mrs. Cartwright resumed her
knitting. In the morning he went to the office sooner than usual, but
there was no news and the dark, cold day passed drearily. When he
started for home Gavin promised to wait until the cable offices closed,
and Cartwright had gone to dinner when he was called to the telephone.
When he took down the instrument his hand shook.
"Hallo!" he said hoarsely. "Is that you, Gavin?"
"Yes, sir," said a voice he knew. "Cablegram from Davies just arrived,
part in code. I'll give it you slow--"
"Go on," said Cartwright.
"_Oreana_ ashore east Cape Chat, surrounded ice, water in fore hold.
Think some plates broken; have abandoned ship. Salvage impossible until
ice breaks."
There was a pause, and Gavin added: "That's all. Have you got it, sir?"
"I've got enough," Cartwright replied.
He hung up the instrument, and going back to the dining-room, drained
his glass. Then he turned to Mrs. Cartwright, who had remarked his grim
look.
"I've got a nasty knock. _Oreana's_ in the ice and may be wrecked.
Anyhow, we can't get her off until spring, and she's the best of the
fleet."
Mrs. Cartwright gave him a sympathetic glance and signed a servant to
bring another plate. As a rule she did not say much. She studied her
husband quietly and was not much comforted when he resumed his dinner.
This was characteristic, but it was plain he had got a nasty knock.