MR. SAM HAMMOND.
At that very moment Mr. Hammond, seated on the fence by the vestry
door, was puffing at a cigar and talking in an unusually loud voice
of New York and his experiences there. He seemed to be very happy
and his boisterous laughter penetrated even to the little company of
worshippers on the settees inside.
When the meeting was over he threw away the stump of his cigar and
shouldered himself into the front row of waiting swains by the door.
As Gus came out he stepped forward to meet her, and in doing so bumped
against Mrs. Piper, who, looking the other way, had not seen him, and,
being deaf, had not heard his step.
“Gracious sakes alive!” exclaimed the old lady, rubbing her shoulder.
“Excuse me, Mr. Hammond, I didn’t see you.”
Sam nodded serenely. “Don’t mention it,” he shouted, winking over his
shoulder at Georgiana Bailey. “You didn’t hurt me a bit.”
Georgiana giggled, and most of the young men grinned at the joke.
Gus glanced hurriedly at Mrs. Piper and then at Hammond. She looked
surprised and troubled.
Sam took her arm without asking permission and led her to the sidewalk.
She still looked back.
“I’m afraid you hurt Mrs. Piper,” she said. “What made you so rough?”
Her escort laughed. “I guess it won’t be fatal,” he observed. “If I’d
managed to fracture that voice of hers so’s she couldn’t sing, maybe
the congregation would give me a vote of thanks.”
Gus didn’t reply. There was something in her companion’s manner that
made her recoil instinctively. She disengaged her arm from his, but he
took it again and walked on, joking and laughing.
“What a crowd of jays there is in this town,” he remarked after a
while, and, with a sneer, “enough to stock a dime museum.”
He had always spoken patronizingly of the townspeople--that she had
not minded so much, coming from a city man, but heretofore he had not
openly made fun of them. She resented the remark, but most of all the
tone in which it was uttered.
“Why do you stay here then?” she asked, coldly.
“Why? I guess you know the reason all right. Don’t you, Gus? Hey?”
He chuckled and bent down to look in her face. She shivered and drew
away from him.
His hand upon her arm, the look he had just given her, his air of
assumed proprietorship--above all, that new and vulgar something in his
manner, as if the real soul of the man was showing for the first time,
filled her with disgust.
She did not speak again until they reached the gate. Then she said,
without looking at him, “Good night.”
He put his hand over hers on the latch. “Oh, say,” he exclaimed, with a
laugh, “this isn’t a square deal, Gus. Aren’t you goin’ to ask me in?”
She tried to snatch her hand away, but he held it fast, and, leaning
across the gate, threw his arm about her waist and drew her to him.
“There!” he cried, exultantly, “this is more like it. This is more like
friends. Give us a kiss. You’re too high and mighty to be the prettiest
girl on the Cape.”
She struggled from his grasp and stood panting. “Oh!” she whispered,
with a shudder, as she realized the truth. “Oh, you’ve been drinking!”
He laughed foolishly and shrugged his shoulders. “Oh, what’s one glass
between friends?” he said. “I stopped into Web’s a minute and he set
’em up. First drink I’ve had since I left New York. Thought you was too
sensible to have blue ribbon notions. Come; be more sociable--that’s a
good girl.”
She was afraid of him now, not afraid of physical violence, but as she
would have feared the contact with something loathsome and unclean. A
sense of utter loneliness came over her. She longed for protection and
help. She thought of Bradley; he would have helped her; she could have
trusted him. But she had driven him out of her life, and this fellow----
“Go!” she cried. “_Go!_”
Sam ceased to smile. Other girls had told him to go, but never in that
way or with such quivering scorn. He began to realize that this was the
end of his game; he had lost the prize. But he made one more effort.
“Oh, say,” he cried. “Don’t get mad, Gus. I was only fooling. Don’t be
such an old maid. Come here.”
She turned on her heel and, without replying, walked toward the house.
Hammond swore between his teeth, opened the gate, took one step in her
direction, and then stopped. He laughed a short, ugly laugh, and nodded.
“You mean it, do you?” he asked. “Want me to clear out, hey? Well,
don’t you fool yourself that I don’t know what ails you. You can’t come
the high moral game on me, my lady. You’re whining after that sneaking
Sunday-school kid, Brad Nickerson, the fellow that didn’t care enough
about you to lift his hand, but stood still and let me walk off with
his girl, as if she was as common as dishwater. The whole town thinks
you’re going to marry me. What’ll they say when I show ’em _I’m_ done
with you?” He laughed again and put his hands in his pockets.
“I’m going,” he said. “I’m going all right. You go to bed and dream
about Brad. Dreams come true sometimes, they say. Maybe _I’ll_ dream
about him, too.”
He pulled his hat over his eyes and walked rapidly away. Gus watched
him go. Then she went into the house, threw herself into a chair beside
the table and laid her head upon her arms.
Sam plunged straight on through the mud and wet grass until he reached
the back door of the billiard-room. Web Saunders came hurrying to see
who it was that had knocked: only the tried and true were admitted at
that door.
“Hello, Sam!” he exclaimed, with a look of relief. “Why, what’s the
matter?”
“Nothing,” replied Hammond gruffly. “Where’s that jug of yours, Web?
I’m dying for another drink.”
After cautioning his visitor against speaking so loud, Mr. Saunders
indicated the whereabouts of the jug. Sam poured out a liberal dose of
the villainous cheap whiskey and drank it forthwith. Then he poured out
another.
He refused to go home that night and Web put him to bed upon one of
the settees in the little back room. And in that back room he stayed
throughout the next day, drinking frequently, in spite of his friend’s
protests, and growing more ugly with every drink.
That next day, Friday, was wet and foggy, with occasional cold showers,
but there was no wind worth mentioning and the wreckers put in ten
hours of the hardest kind of work. The _Freedom_ had moved perceptibly
in the sweep of the latest tides and the partners were happy in
consequence.
It was dark, though a few stars were showing dimly through the mist
overhead, when the _Diving Belle_ entered Orham Harbor that evening.
Alvin Bearse was at the helm, and he brought the schooner alongside
the wharf. A half-dozen men--the only members of the wrecking gang
who returned to Orham at the end of the day’s work--climbed over
the stringpiece and departed for their homes in the village. Bearse
remained on board when the vessel ran out to her moorings, to help his
employers make snug for the night.
A few minutes later Bradley stood by the cabin door, with a lantern
in his hand. Alvin and the Captain were forward. Suddenly the junior
partner was aware that some one was standing beside him.
“Well, Cap’n Ez,” he observed; “all ready to go ashore?”
There was no answer. He looked up--into the face of Sam Hammond.
The diver wore no overcoat. His stiff hat, battered and muddy, was
pushed back on his head. His face, under the tumbled, damp hair on
the forehead, was flushed and scowling, and his half-shut eyes had an
ugly glimmer. Even in the dim light of the lantern his condition was
unmistakable.
Hammond’s behavior in his native village had heretofore been of the
best, so far as this particular vice was concerned. Bradley was
dumbfounded.
“Hello, Sam!” he exclaimed. “Where’d you come from?”
“Off the wharf,” was the gruff answer. “Where’d you think, you fool?”
It was evident that the fellow was spoiling for a fight. Bradley,
however, had no wish to quarrel with a drunken man, especially this one.
“All right, all right,” he said, mechanically, “I didn’t see you come
aboard, that’s all. Want to see Cap’n Ez?”
“No, I don’t want to see Cap’n Ez nor any other ’longshore thief but
you. I want to go below and get my things.”
“Your things?”
“Yes, my things. My oilskins and the rest of my stuff. I wouldn’t leave
’em aboard this rotten tub another minute for a million dollars.”
“Oh, very well.” Bradley swung open the cabin door and started to lead
the way with the lantern. Hammond shoved him aside.
“I’ll go alone,” he muttered.
“You can’t see without the lantern. You’ll have to go with me or wait
till to-morrow morning.”
“Give me that lantern,” snarled Sam, making a grab for it.
Bradley held it out of reach.
“You’re not fit to carry it,” he said, shortly.
“You mealy-mouthed sneak!” shouted Hammond. “I’m fit to fix you.”
Bradley saw the blow coming. He dropped the lantern and ducked. Next
instant Sam was upon him, screaming and cursing. They tripped over
the swinging door and fell to the deck. Alvin and Captain Titcomb came
running from the fo’castle.
“What in the nation----?” cried the Captain. “Here, quit that, you! Let
him alone, Brad!”
Hammond yelled and fought as they dragged him to his feet. Finally,
overpowered, he sobbed in maudlin fury.
“There! that’ll do for you,” observed the Captain, clapping a big hand
over his prisoner’s mouth. “Crazy tight, ain’t he? Hold still, or, by
the everlastin’ hook-blocks, I’ll heave you overboard! Where’d he come
from?”
“Must have come aboard when we stopped at the wharf,” replied Bradley.
“He was dead set on taking the lantern and going below after his
oilskins and stuff.”
“Sooner trust a blind cripple with a lantern. Chuck his dunnage ashore
to-morrer mornin’. Now then,” turning to Hammond, “will you walk to the
dory or shall we carry you? Shut up! You’ve cussed enough.”
He led the way to the side, holding Sam by the coat collar. Bradley
followed.
“Oh!” exclaimed the skipper, stopping short. “Didn’t shut that cabin
door, did you, Brad? I’ve left that blasted key somewheres, and if that
spring lock’s snapped shut we’ll be in a mess. No? Well, all right
then.”
They got into the dory and Bradley took up the oars. Bearse sat on
the bow thwart, while the Captain reclined in the stern with Hammond,
sprawling and muttering, between his knees. They had nearly reached
the beach when Sam gave a sudden spring, and, with an oath, threw
himself upon his enemy. Bradley fell backward. The dory heeled until
the water lipped the rail.
“You would, would you?” grunted Captain Titcomb. “There!”
Seizing the struggling diver neck and crop, he whirled him bodily over
the side.
“Now, then,” panted the Captain, “if you can’t ride like a man--walk!”
Sam went into the cold water with a tremendous splash. It was not deep
and he floundered to his feet, but the shock sobered him a little. He
waded to the shore. Turning, he stretched out an arm with a shaking
forefinger at the end of it. His rage almost choked him. He tried twice
before he managed to speak clearly.
“I pay my debts,” he gasped. “I pay my debts!”
“I’ve heard diff’rent,” remarked the Captain, drily. “But never mind,
Sam; it’s a good habit.”
Hammond did not heed him. “I pay my debts,” he repeated. “Do you hear
that, Brad Nickerson? You doughface! I’ve got your girl away from you
already, and that isn’t the end. I pay my debts, and, by God, Brad
Nickerson, I’ll pay you!”
He stood for an instant pointing at the dory. Then he stepped back into
the darkness. They heard his footsteps crunching the broken clam-shells
of the road.
“Seems to love you like a brother, don’t he, Brad?” observed the
Captain, as they were on their way up town. “I jedge from the drift
of his entertainin’ remarks that he’s decided to chuck up his job
with Titcomb and Nickerson. Well, I cal’late he’ll resign by ‘mutual
consint,’ as the Irishman did when him and his boss told each other to
go to blazes at the same time. I met one of the Metropolitan men when I
was up to Boston and he told me his folks fired Sam because he went on
a howlin’ spree, so I guess this little shindy was bound to come sooner
or later. Kept pretty straight afore sence he’s been to home, though,
ain’t he?”
Bradley did not answer.
Suddenly the Captain slapped his thigh.
“Good land!” he exclaimed. “Brad, I’ve meant to tell you all day, and
forgot it: The _Diving Belle’s_ insured. I went down to Obed’s after I
left your house last night and we fixed it up. Five thousand dollars,
and it went on at noon to-day--leastways, I s’pose it did. He was to
telephone the insurance folks this mornin’.”
“Good! I’m glad that’s settled. It has worried me to think we weren’t
protected at all.”
“Well, I told you I’d do it, didn’t I? The only hitch was about that
dynamite. But I fixed that. Give Obed to understand we’d took it
ashore. We have--all but. I spoke to Peleg and he’ll have it off in a
day or so.”
Bradley stopped short. “You don’t mean to tell me it hasn’t gone yet?”
he exclaimed. “Why! if anything should happen to the schooner with that
stuff aboard the policy wouldn’t hold for a minute. I’ve a good mind
to go back now and take it off myself.”
“Oh, don’t be an old woman!” cried the Captain, testily. “What do you
think’s goin’ to happen? I’ll see to it to-morrow. Come on home!”
The junior partner did not press the subject, but he made up his mind
that if he lived until the next morning that dynamite should go ashore
the minute the _Diving Belle_ reached the Point.
At the gate of the Traveller’s Rest they separated. “Coming ’round to
the house by and by, Cap’n?” asked Bradley.
The Captain’s manner changed. “I don’t know,” he answered, gloomily. “I
presume likely I may.”
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