Page 7 of Frontier Stories

  A SHIP OF '49.

  It had rained so persistently in San Francisco during the first week ofJanuary, 1854, that a certain quagmire in the roadway of Long Wharf hadbecome impassable, and a plank was thrown over its dangerous depth.Indeed, so treacherous was the spot that it was alleged, on goodauthority, that a hastily embarking traveler had once hopelessly losthis portmanteau, and was fain to dispose of his entire interest in itfor the sum of two dollars and fifty cents to a speculative stranger onthe wharf. As the stranger's search was rewarded afterwards only by thediscovery of the body of a casual Chinaman, who had evidentlyendeavored wickedly to anticipate him, a feeling of commercialinsecurity was added to the other eccentricities of the locality.

  The plank led to the door of a building that was a marvel even in thechaotic frontier architecture of the street. The houses on eitherside--irregular frames of wood or corrugated iron--bore evidence ofhaving been quickly thrown together, to meet the requirements of thegoods and passengers who were once disembarked on what was the muddybeach of the infant city. But the building in question exhibited acertain elaboration of form and design utterly inconsistent with thisidea. The structure obtruded a bowed front to the street, with acurving line of small windows, surmounted by elaborate carvings andscroll work of vines and leaves, while below, in faded gilt letters,appeared the legend "Pontiac--Marseilles." The effect of thisincongruity was startling.

  It is related that an inebriated miner, impeded by mud and drink beforeits door, was found gazing at its remarkable facade with an expressionof the deepest despondency. "I hev lived a free life, pardner," heexplained thickly to the Samaritan who succored him, "and every timesince I've been on this six weeks' jamboree might have kalkilated itwould come to this. Snakes I've seen afore now, and rats I'm notunfamiliar with, but when it comes to the starn of a ship risin' up outof the street, I reckon it's time to pass in my checks."

  "It _is_ a ship, you blasted old soaker," said the Samaritan curtly.

  It was indeed a ship. A ship run ashore and abandoned on the beachyears before by her gold-seeking crew, with the debris of her scatteredstores and cargo, overtaken by the wild growth of the strange city andthe reclamation of the muddy flat, wherein she lay hopelessly imbedded;her retreat cut off by wharves and quays and breakwater, jostled atfirst by sheds, and then impacted in a block of solid warehouses anddwellings, her rudder, port, and counter boarded in, and now gazinghopelessly through her cabin windows upon the busy street before her.But still a ship despite her transformation. The faintest line ofcontour yet left visible spoke of the buoyancy of another element; thebalustrade of her roof was unmistakably a taffrail. The rain slippedfrom her swelling sides with a certain lingering touch of the sea; thesoil around her was still treacherous with its suggestions, and eventhe wind whistled nautically over her chimney. If, in the fury of somesouthwesterly gale, she had one night slipped her strange moorings andleft a shining track through the lower town to the distant sea, no onewould have been surprised.

  Least of all, perhaps, her present owner and possessor, Mr. Abner Nott.For by the irony of circumstances, Mr. Nott was a Far Western farmerwho had never seen a ship before, nor a larger stream of water than atributary of the Missouri River. In a spirit, half of fascination, halfof speculation, he had bought her at the time of her abandonment, andhad since mortgaged his ranch at Petaluma with his live stock, todefray the expenses of filling in the land where she stood, and theimprovements of the vicinity. He had transferred his household goodsand his only daughter to her cabin, and had divided the space "betweendecks" and her hold into lodging-rooms, and lofts for the storage ofgoods. It could hardly be said that the investment had been profitable.His tenants vaguely recognized that his occupancy was a sentimentalrather than a commercial speculation, and often generously lentthemselves to the illusion by not paying their rent. Others treatedtheir own tenancy as a joke,--a quaint recreation born of the childlikefamiliarity of frontier intercourse. A few had left; carelesslyabandoning their unsalable goods to their landlord, with greatcheerfulness and a sense of favor. Occasionally Mr. Abner Nott, in apractical relapse, raged against the derelicts, and talked ofdispossessing them, or even dismantling his tenement, but he was easilyplacated by a compliment to the "dear old ship," or an effort made bysome tenant to idealize his apartment. A photographer who hadingeniously utilized the forecastle for a gallery (accessible from thebows in the next street), paid no further tribute than a portrait ofthe pretty face of Rosey Nott. The superstitious reverence in whichAbner Nott held his monstrous fancy was naturally enhanced by hispurely bucolic exaggeration of its real functions and its nativeelement. "This yer keel has sailed, and sailed, and sailed," he wouldexplain with some incongruity of illustration, "in a bee line, makin'tracks for days runnin'. I reckon more storms and blizzards hez tackledher than you ken shake a stick at. She's stampeded whales afore now,and sloshed round with pirates and freebooters in and outer the SpanishMain, and across lots from Marcelleys where she was rared. And yer shesits peaceful-like just ez if she'd never been outer a pertater patch,and hadn't ploughed the sea with fo'sails and studdin' sails and themthings cavortin' round her masts."

  Abner Nott's enthusiasm was shared by his daughter, but with moreimagination, and an intelligence stimulated by the scant literature ofher father's emigrant wagon and the few books found on the cabinshelves. But to her the strange shell she inhabited suggested more ofthe great world than the rude, chaotic civilization she saw from thecabin windows or met in the persons of her father's lodgers. Shut upfor days in this quaint tenement, she had seen it change from theenchanted playground of her childish fancy to the theater of her activemaidenhood, but without losing her ideal romance in it. She hadtranslated its history in her own way, read its quaint nauticalhieroglyphics after her own fashion, and possessed herself of itssecrets. She had in fancy made voyages in it to foreign lands, hadheard the accents of a softer tongue on its decks, and on summernights, from the roof of the quarter-deck, had seen mellowerconstellations take the place of the hard metallic glitter of theCalifornian skies. Sometimes, in her isolation, the long, cylindricalvault she inhabited seemed, like some vast sea-shell, to become musicalwith the murmurings of the distant sea. So completely had it taken theplace of the usual instincts of feminine youth that she had forgottenshe was pretty, or that her dresses were old in fashion and scant inquantity. After the first surprise of admiration her father's lodgersceased to follow the abstracted nymph except with their eyes,--partlyrespecting her spiritual shyness, partly respecting the jealoussupervision of the paternal Nott. She seldom penetrated the crowdedcenter of the growing city; her rare excursions were confined to theold ranch at Petaluma, whence she brought flowers and plants, and evenextemporized a hanging-garden on the quarter-deck.

  It was still raining, and the wind, which had increased to a gale, wasdashing the drops against the slanting cabin windows with a sound likespray when Mr. Abner Nott sat before a table seriously engaged with hisaccounts. For it was "steamer night,"--as that momentous day ofreckoning before the sailing of the regular mail steamer was brieflyknown to commercial San Francisco,--and Mr. Nott was subject at suchtimes to severely practical relapses. A swinging light seemed to bringinto greater relief that peculiar encased casket-like security of thelow-timbered, tightly-fitting apartment, with its toy-like utilities ofspace, and made the pretty oval face of Rosey Nott appear acharacteristic ornament. The sliding door of the cabin communicatedwith the main deck, now roofed in and partitioned off so as to form asmall passage that led to the open starboard gangway, where a narrow,enclosed staircase built on the ship's side took the place of theship's ladder under her counter, and opened in the street.

  A dash of rain against the window caused Rosey to lift her eyes fromher book.

  "It's much nicer here than at the ranch, father," she said coaxingly,"even leaving alone its being a beautiful ship instead of a shanty; thewind don't whistle through the cracks and blow out the candle whenyou're reading, nor the rain spoil your things hung up
against thewall. And you look more like a gentleman sitting in his own--ship--youknow, looking over his bills and getting ready to give his orders."

  Vague and general as Miss Rosey's compliment was, it had its fulleffect upon her father, who was at times dimly conscious of hishopeless rusticity and its incongruity with his surroundings. "Yes," hesaid awkwardly, with a slight relaxation of his aggressive attitude;"yes, in course it's more bang-up style, but it don't pay--Rosey--itdon't pay. Yer's the Pontiac that oughter be bringin' in, ez rents go,at least three hundred a month, don't make her taxes. I bin thinkin'seriously of sellin' her."

  As Rosey knew her father had experienced this serious contemplation onthe first of every month for the last two years, and cheerfully ignoredit the next day, she only said, "I'm sure the vacant rooms and loftsare all rented, father."

  "That's it," returned Mr. Nott thoughtfully, plucking at his bushywhiskers with his fingers and thumb as if he were removing dead andsapless incumbrances in their growth, "that's just what it is--them'sez in it themselves don't pay, and them ez haz left their goods--thegoods don't pay. The feller ez stored them iron sugar kettles in theforehold, after trying to get me to make another advance on 'em, sez hebelieves he'll have to sacrifice 'em to me after all, and only begs I'dgive him a chance of buying back the half of 'em ten years from now, atdouble what I advanced him. The chap that left them five hundred casesof hair dye 'tween decks and then skipped out to Sacramento, met me theother day in the street and advised me to use a bottle ez anadvertisement, or try it on the starn of the Pontiac for fireproofpaint. That foolishness ez all he's good for. And yet thar might besuthin' in the paint, if a feller had nigger luck. Ther's that New Yorkchap ez bought up them damaged boxes of plug terbakker for fiftydollars a thousand, and sold 'em for foundations for that new buildingin Sansome Street at a thousand clear profit. It's all luck, Rosey."

  The girl's eyes had wandered again to the pages of her book. Perhapsshe was already familiar with the text of her father's monologue. Butrecognizing an additional querulousness in his voice, she laid the bookaside and patiently folded her hands in her lap.

  "That's right--for I've suthin' to tell ye. The fact is Sleight wantsto buy the Pontiac out and out just ez she stands with the two fiftyvara lots she stands on."

  "Sleight wants to buy her? Sleight?" echoed Rosey incredulously.

  "You bet! Sleight--the big financier, the smartest man in 'Frisco."

  "What does he want to buy her for?" asked Rosey, knitting her prettybrows.

  The apparently simple question suddenly puzzled Mr. Nott. He glancedfeebly at his daughter's face, and frowned in vacant irritation."That's so," he said, drawing a long breath; "there's suthin' in that."

  "What did he _say_?" continued the young girl, impatiently.

  "Not much. 'You've got the Pontiac, Nott,' sez he. 'You bet!' sez I.'What'll you take for her and the lot she stands on?' sez he, short andsharp. Some fellers, Rosey," said Nott, with a cunning smile, "wouldhev blurted out a big figger and been cotched. That ain't my style. Ijust looked at him. 'I'll wait fur your figgers until next steamerday,' sez he, and off he goes like a shot. He's awfully sharp, Rosey."

  "But if he is sharp, father, and he really wants to buy the ship,"returned Rosey, thoughtfully, "it's only because he knows it's valuableproperty, and not because he likes it as we do. He can't take thatvalue away even if we don't sell it to him, and all the while we havethe comfort of the dear old Pontiac, don't you see?"

  This exhaustive commercial' reasoning was so sympathetic to Mr. Nott'sinstincts that he accepted it as conclusive. He, however, deemed itwise to still preserve his practical attitude. "But that don't make itpay by the month, Rosey. Suthin' must be done. I'm thinking I'll cleanout that photographer."

  "Not just after he's taken such a pretty view of the cabin front of thePontiac from the street, father! No! He's going to give us a copy, andput the other in a shop window in Montgomery Street."

  "That's so," said Mr. Nott, musingly; "it's no slouch of anadvertisement. 'The Pontiac,' the property of A. Nott, Esq., of St. Jo,Missouri. Send it on to your aunt Phoebe; sorter make the old folksopen their eyes--oh? Well, seem' he's been to some expense fittin' upan entrance from the other street, we'll let him slide. But as to thatd----d old Frenchman Ferrers, in the next loft, with his stuck-up airsand high-falutin style, we must get quit of him; he's regularly gougedme in that ere horsehair spekilation."

  "How can you say that, father!" said Rosey, with a slight increase ofcolor. "It was your own offer. You know those bales of curled horsehairwere left behind by the late tenant to pay his rent. When Mr. DeFerrieres rented the room afterwards, you told him you'd throw them inin the place of repairs and furniture. It was your own offer."

  "Yes, but I didn't reckon ther'd ever be a big price per pound paid forthe darned stuff for sofys and cushions and sich."

  "How do you know _he_ knew it, father?" responded Rosey.

  "Then why did he look so silly at first, and then put on airs when Ijoked him about it, eh?"

  "Perhaps he didn't understand your joking, father. He's a foreigner,and shy and proud, and--not like the others. I don't think he knew whatyou meant then, any more than he believed he was making a bargainbefore. He may be poor, but I think he's been--a--a--gentleman."

  The young girl's animation penetrated even Mr. Nott's slowcomprehension. Her novel opposition, and even the prettiness itenhanced, gave him a dull premonition of pain. His small round eyesbecame abstracted, his mouth remained partly open, even his fresh colorslightly paled.

  "You seem to have been takin' stock of this yer man, Rosey," he said,with a faint attempt at archness; "if he warn't ez old ez a crow, forall his young feathers, I'd think he was makin' up to you."

  But the passing glow had faded from her young cheeks, and her eyeswandered again to her book. "He pays his rent regularly every steamernight," she said, quietly, as if dismissing an exhausted subject, "andhe'll be here in a moment, I dare say." She took up her book, andleaning her head on her hand, once more became absorbed in its pages.

  An uneasy silence followed. The rain beat against the windows, theticking of a clock became audible, but still Mr. Nott sat with vacanteyes fixed on his daughter's face, and the constrained smile on hislips. He was conscious that he had never seen her look so prettybefore, yet he could not tell why this was no longer an unalloyedsatisfaction. Not but that he had always accepted the admiration ofothers for her as a matter of course, but for the first time he becameconscious that she not only had an interest in others, but apparently asuperior knowledge of them. How did she know these things about thisman, and why had she only now accidentally spoken of them? _He_ wouldhave done so. All this passed so vaguely through his unreflective mind,that he was unable to retain any decided impression, but thefar-reaching one that his lodger had obtained some occult influenceover her through the exhibition of his baleful skill in the horsehairspeculation. "Them tricks is likely to take a young girl's fancy. Imust look arter her," he said to himself softly.

  A slow regular step in the gangway interrupted his paternalreflections. Hastily buttoning across his chest the pea-jacket which heusually wore at home as a single concession to his nauticalsurroundings, he drew himself up with something of the assumption of ashipmaster, despite certain bucolic suggestions of his boots and legs.The footsteps approached nearer, and a tall figure suddenly stood inthe doorway.

  It was a figure so extraordinary that even in the strange masquerade ofthat early civilization it was remarkable; a figure with whom fatherand daughter were already familiar without abatement of wonder--thefigure of a rejuvenated old man, padded, powdered, dyed, and painted tothe verge of caricature, but without a single suggestion ofludicrousness or humor. A face so artificial that it seemed almost amask, but, like a mask, more pathetic than amusing. He was dressed inthe extreme of fashion of a dozen years before; his pearl--graytrousers strapped tightly over his varnished boots, his voluminoussatin cravat and high collar embraced his rouged cheeks and d
yedwhiskers, his closely-buttoned frock coat clinging to a waist thatseemed accented by stays.

  He advanced two steps into the cabin with an upright precision ofmotion that might have hid the infirmities of age, and saiddeliberately with a foreign accent:

  "You-r-r ac-coumpt?"

  In the actual presence of the apparition Mr. Nott's dignifiedresistance wavered. But glancing uneasily at his daughter and seeingher calm eyes fixed on the speaker without embarrassment, he folded hisarms stiffly, and with a lofty simulation of examining the ceiling,said:

  "Ahem! Rosa! The gentleman's account."

  It was an infelicitous action. For the stranger, who evidently had notnoticed the presence of the young girl before, started, took a stepquickly forward, bent stiffly but profoundly over the little hand thatheld the account, raised it to his lips, and with "a thousand pardons,mademoiselle," laid a small canvas bag containing the rent before thedisorganized Mr. Nott and stiffly vanished.

  The night was a troubled one to the simple-minded proprietor of thegood ship Pontiac. Unable to voice his uneasiness by furtherdiscussion, but feeling that his late discomposing interview with hislodger demanded some marked protest, he absented himself on the plea ofbusiness during the rest of the evening, happily to his daughter'sutter obliviousness of the reason. Lights were burning brilliantly incounting-rooms and offices, the feverish life of the mercantile citywas at its height. With a vague idea of entering into immediatenegotiations with Mr. Sleight for the sale of the ship--as a direct wayout of his present perplexity, he bent his steps towards thefinancier's office, but paused and turned back before reaching thedoor. He made his way to the wharf and gazed abstractedly at the lightsreflected in the dark, tremulous, jelly-like water. But wherever hewent he was accompanied by the absurd figure of his lodger--a figure hehad hitherto laughed at or half pitied, but which now, to hisbewildered comprehension, seemed to have a fateful significance. Here anew idea seized him, and he hurried back to the ship, slackening hispace only when he arrived at his own doorway. Here he paused a momentand slowly ascended the staircase. When he reached the passage hecoughed slightly and paused again. Then he pushed open the door of thedarkened cabin and called softly:

  "Rosey!"

  "What is it, father?" said Rosey's voice from the little state-room onthe right--Rosey's own bower.

  "Nothing!" said Mr. Nott, with an affectation of languid calmness; "Ionly wanted to know if you was comfortable. It's an awful busy night intown."

  "Yes, father."

  "I reckon thar's tons o' gold goin' to the States tomorrow."

  "Yes, father."

  "Pretty comfortable, eh?"

  "Yes, father."

  "Well, I'll browse round a spell, and turn in myself soon."

  "Yes, father."

  Mr. Nott took down a hanging lantern, lighted it, and passed out intothe gangway. Another lamp hung from the companion hatch to light thetenants to the lower deck, whence he descended. This deck was dividedfore and aft by a partitioned passage,--the lofts or apartments beinglighted from the ports, and one or two by a door cut through the ship'sside communicating with an alley on either side. This was the case withthe loft occupied by Mr. Nott's strange lodger, which, besides a doorin the passage, had this independent communication with the alley. Notthad never known him to make use of the latter door; on the contrary, itwas his regular habit to issue from his apartment at three o'clockevery afternoon, dressed as he has been described, stride deliberatelythrough the passage to the upper deck and thence into the street, wherehis strange figure was a feature of the principal promenade for two orthree hours, returning as regularly at eight o'clock to the ship andthe seclusion of his loft. Mr. Nott paused before the door, under thepretense of throwing the light before him into the shadows of theforecastle: all was silent within. He was turning back when he wasimpressed by the regular recurrence of a peculiar rustling sound whichhe had at first referred to the rubbing of the wires of the swinginglantern against his clothing. He set down the light and listened; thesound was evidently on the other side of the partition; the sound ofsome prolonged, rustling, scraping movement, with regular intervals.Was it due to another of Mr. Nott's unprofitable tenants--the rats? No.A bright idea flashed upon Mr. Nott's troubled mind. It was DeFerrieres snoring! He smiled grimly. "Wonder if Rosey'd call him agentleman if she heard that," he chuckled to himself as he slowly madehis way back to the cabin and the small state-room opposite to hisdaughter's. During the rest of the night he dreamed of being compelledto give Rosey in marriage to his lodger, who added insult to theoutrage by snoring audibly through the marriage service.

  Meantime, in her cradle-like nest in her nautical bower, Miss Roseyslumbered as lightly. Waking from a vivid dream of Venice--a child'sVenice--seen from the swelling deck of the proudly-riding Pontiac, shewas so impressed as to rise and cross on tiptoe to the little slantingport-hole. Morning was already dawning over the flat, straggling city,but from every counting-house and magazine the votive tapers of thefeverish worshipers of trade and mammon were still flaring fiercely.

  II.

  The day following "steamer night" was usually stale and flat at SanFrancisco. The reaction from the feverish exaltation of the previoustwenty-four hours was seen in the listless faces and lounging feet ofpromenaders, and was notable in the deserted offices and warehousesstill redolent of last night's gas, and strewn with the dead ashes oflast night's fires. There was a brief pause before the busy life whichran its course from "steamer day" to steamer day was once more takenup. In that interval a few anxious speculators and investors breathedfreely, some critical situation was relieved, or some impendingcatastrophe momentarily averted. In particular, a singular stroke ofgood fortune that morning befell Mr. Nott. He not only secured a newtenant, but, as he sagaciously believed, introduced into the Pontiac acounteracting influence to the subtle fascinations of De Ferrieres.

  The new tenant apparently possessed a combination of businessshrewdness and brusque frankness that strongly impressed his landlord."You see, Rosey," said Nott, complacently describing the interview tohis daughter, "when I sorter intimated in a keerless kind o' way thatsugar kettles and hair dye was about played out ez securities, he justplanked down the money for two months in advance. 'There,' sez he,'that's _your_ security--now where's _mine_?' 'I reckon I don't hitchon, pardner,' sez I; 'security what for?' ''Spose you sell the ship?'sez he, 'afore the two months is up. I've heard that old Sleight wantsto buy her.' 'Then you gets back your money,' sez I. 'And lose myroom,' sez he; 'not much, old man. You sign a paper that whoever buysthe ship inside o' two months hez to buy _me_ ez a tenant with it;that's on the square.' So I sign the paper. It was mighty cute in theyoung feller, wasn't it?" he said, scanning his daughter's prettypuzzled face a little anxiously; "and don't you see, ez I ain't goin'to sell the Pontiac, it's just about ez cute in me, eh? He's acontractor somewhere around yer, and wants to be near his work. So hetakes the room next to the Frenchman, that that ship-captain quit forthe mines, and succeeds naterally to his chest and things. He's mightypeart-looking, that young feller, Rosey--long black mustaches, all hisown color, Rosey--and he's a regular high-stepper, you bet. I reckonhe's not only been a gentleman, but ez _now_. Some o' them contractorsare very high-toned!"

  "I don't think we have any right to give him the captain's chest,father," said Rosey; "there may be some private things in it. Therewere some letters and photographs in the hair-dye man's trunk that yougave the photographer."

  "That's just it, Rosey," returned Abner Nott with sublimeunconsciousness, "photographs and love letters you can't sell for cash,and I don't mind givin' 'em away, if they kin make a feller-creaturehappy."

  "But, father, have we the _right_ to give 'em away?"

  "They're collateral security, Rosey." said her father grimly."Co-la-te-ral," he continued, emphasizing each syllable by tapping thefist of one hand in the open palm of the other. "Co-la-te-ral is theword the big business sharps yer about call 'em. You can't get roundthat." He paused a moment, and
then, as a new idea seemed to bepainfully borne in his round eyes, continued cautiously: "Was that thereason why you wouldn't touch any of them dresses from the trunks ofthat opery gal ez skedaddled for Sacramento? And yet them trunks Iregularly bought at auction--Rosey--at auction, on spec--and theydidn't realize the cost of drayage."

  A slight color mounted to Rosey's face. "No," she said, hastily, "notthat." Hesitating a moment, she then drew softly to his side, and,placing her arms around his neck, turned his broad, foolish facetowards her own. "Father," she began, "when mother died, would _you_have liked anybody to take her trunks and paw round her things and wearthem?"

  "When your mother died, just this side o' Sweetwater, Rosey," said Mr.Nott, with beaming unconsciousness, "she had n't any trunks. I reckonshe had n't even an extra gown hanging up in the wagin, 'cept thepetticoat ez she had wrapped around yer. It was about ez much ez wecould do to skirmish round with Injins, alkali, and cold, and we sorterforgot to dress for dinner. She never thought, Rosey, that you and mewould live to be inhabitin' a paliss of a real ship. Ef she had shewould have died a proud woman."

  He turned his small, loving, boar-like eyes upon her as apreternaturally innocent and trusting companion of Ulysses might haveregarded the transforming Circe. Rosey turned away with the faintestsigh. The habitual look of abstraction returned to her eyes as if shehad once more taken refuge in her own ideal world. Unfortunately thechange did not escape either the sensitive observation or the fatuousmisconception of the sagacious parent. "Ye'll be mountin' a fewfurbelows and fixins, Rosey, I reckon, ez only natural. Mebbee ye'llhave to prink up a little now that we've got a gentleman contractor inthe ship. I'll see what I kin pick up in Montgomery Street." And indeedhe succeeded a few hours later in accomplishing with equal infelicityhis generous design. When she returned from her household tasks shefound on her berth a purple velvet bonnet of extraordinary make, and apair of white satin slippers. "They'll do for a start-off, Rosey," heexplained, "and I got 'em at my figgers."

  "But I go out so seldom, father; and a bonnet"--

  "That's so," interrupted Mr. Nott, complacently, "it might be jest ezwell for a young gal like yer to appear ez if she _did_ go out, orwould go out if she wanted to. So you kin be wearin' that ar headstallkinder like this evening when the contractor's here, ez if you'd jestcome in from _a pasear_."

  Miss Rosey did not however immediately avail herself of her father'spurchase, but contented herself with the usual scarlet ribbon that likea snood confined her brown hair, when she returned to her tasks. Thespace between the galley and the bulwarks had been her favorite resortin summer when not actually engaged in household work. It was nowlightly roofed over with boards and tarpaulin against the winter rain,but still afforded her a veranda-like space before the galley door,where she could read or sew, looking over the bow of the Pontiac to thetossing bay or the farther range of the Contra Costa hills.

  Hither Miss Rosey brought the purple prodigy, partly to please herfather, partly with a view of subjecting it to violent radical changes.But after trying it on before the tiny mirror in the galley once ortwice, her thoughts wandered away, and she fell into one of herhabitual reveries seated on a little stool before the galley door.

  She was aroused from it by the slight shaking and rattling of the doorsof a small hatch on the deck, not a dozen yards from where she sat. Ithad been evidently fastened from below during the wet weather, but asshe gazed, the fastenings were removed, the doors were suddenly lifted,and the head and shoulders of a young man emerged from the deck. Partlyfrom her father's description, and partly from the impossibility of itsbeing anybody else, she at once conceived it to be the new lodger. Shehad time to note that he was young and good-looking, graver perhapsthan became his sudden pantomimic appearance, but before she couldobserve him closely, he had turned, closed the hatch with a certainfamiliar dexterity, and walked slowly towards the bows. Even in herslight bewilderment she observed that his step upon the deck seemeddifferent to her father's or the photographer's, and that he laid hishand on various objects with a half-caressing ease and habit. Presentlyhe paused and turned back, and glancing at the galley door for thefirst time encountered her wondering eyes.

  It seemed so evident that she had been a curious spectator of hisabrupt entrance on deck that he was at first disconcerted and confused.But after a second glance at her he appeared to resume his composure,and advanced a little defiantly towards the galley.

  "I suppose I frightened you, popping up the fore hatch just now?"

  "The what?" asked Rosey.

  "The fore hatch," he repeated impatiently, indicating it with agesture.

  "And that's the fore hatch?" she said abstractedly. "You seem to knowships."

  "Yes--a little," he said quietly. "I was below, and unfastened thehatch to come up the quickest way and take a look round. I've justhired a room here," he added explanatorily.

  "I thought so," said Rosey simply; "you're the contractor?"

  "The contractor!--oh, yes! You seem to know it all."

  "Father's told me."

  "Oh, he's your father--Nott? Certainly. I see now," he continued,looking at her with a half repressed smile. "Certainly, Miss Nott, goodmorning," he half added and walked towards the companion-way. Somethingin the direction of his eyes as he turned away made Rosey lift herhands to her head. She had forgotten to remove her father's balefulgift.

  She snatched it off and ran quickly to the companion-way.

  "Sir!" she called.

  The young man turned half-way down the steps and looked up. There was afaint color in her cheeks, and her pretty brown hair was slightlydisheveled from the hasty removal of the bonnet.

  "Father's very particular about strangers being on this deck," she saida little sharply.

  "Oh--ah--I'm sorry I intruded."

  "I--I--thought I'd tell you," said Rosey, frightened by her boldnessinto a feeble anti-climax.

  "Thank you."

  She came back slowly to the galley and picked up the unfortunate bonnetwith a slight sense of remorse. Why should she feel angry with her poorfather's unhappy offering? And what business had this strange young manto use the ship so familiarly? Yet she was vaguely conscious that sheand her father, with all their love and their domestic experience ofit, lacked a certain instinctive ease in its possession that the halfindifferent stranger had shown on first treading its deck. She walkedto the hatchway and examined it with a new interest. Succeeding inlifting the hatch, she gazed at the lower deck. As she already knew theladder had long since been removed to make room for one of thepartitions, the only way the stranger could have reached it was byleaping to one of the rings. To make sure of this she let herself downholding on to the rings, and dropped a couple of feet to the deckbelow. She was in the narrow passage her father had penetrated theprevious night. Before her was the door leading to De Ferriferes' loft,always locked. It was silent within; it was the hour when the oldFrenchman made his habitual promenade in the city. But the light fromthe newly-opened hatch allowed her to see more of the mysteriousrecesses of the forward bulkhead than she had known before, and she wasstartled by observing another yawning hatchway at her feet from whichthe closely-fitting door had been lifted, and which the new lodger hadevidently forgotten to close again. The young girl stooped down andpeered cautiously into the black abyss. Nothing was to be seen, nothingheard but the distant gurgle and click of water in some remoter depth.She replaced the hatch and returned by way of the passage to the cabin.

  When her father came home that night she briefly recounted theinterview with the new lodger, and her discovery of his curiosity. Shedid this with a possible increase of her usual shyness and abstraction,and apparently more as a duty than a colloquial recreation. But itpleased Mr. Nott also to give it more than his usual misconception."Looking round the ship, was he--eh, Rosey?" he said with infinitearchness. "In course, kinder sweepin' round the galley, and offerin' tofetch you wood and water, eh?" Even when the young girl had picked upher book with the usual faint smile o
f affectionate tolerance, and thendrifted away in its pages, Mr. Nott chuckled audibly. "I reckon oldFrenchy didn't come by when the young one was bedevlin' you there."

  "What, father?" said Rosey, lifting her abstracted eyes to his face.

  At the moment it seemed impossible that any human intelligence couldhave suspected deceit or duplicity in Rosey's clear gaze. But Mr.Nott's intelligence was superhuman. "I was sayin' that Mr. Ferrieresdidn't happen in while the young feller was there--eh?"

  "No, father," answered Rosey, with an effort to follow him out of thepages of her book. "Why?"

  But Mr. Nott did not reply. Later in the evening he awkwardly waylaidthe new lodger before the cabin-door as that gentleman would havepassed on to his room.

  "I'm afraid," said the young man, glancing at Rosey, "that I intrudedupon your daughter to-day. I was a little curious to see the old ship,and I didn't know what part of it was private."

  "There ain't no private part to this yer ship--that ez, 'cepting therooms and lofts," said Mr. Nott, authoritatively. Then, subjecting theanxious look of his daughter to his usual faculty for misconception, headded, "Thar ain't no place whar you haven't as much right to go ez anyother man; thar ain't any man, furriner or Amerykan, young or old, dyedor undyed, ez hev got any better rights. You hear me, young fellow. Mr.Renshaw--my darter. My darter--Mr. Renshaw. Rosey, give the gentleman achair. She's only jest come in from a promeynade, and hez jest takenoff her bonnet," he added, with an arch look at Rosey and a hurriedlook around the cabin, as if he hoped to see the missing gift visibleto the general eye. "So take a seat a minit, won't ye?"

  But Mr. Renshaw, after an observant glance at the young girl'sabstracted face, brusquely excused himself. "I've got a letter towrite," he said, with a half bow to Rosey. "Good night."

  He crossed the passage to the room that had been assigned to him, andclosing the door gave way to some irritability of temper in his effortsto light the lamp and adjust his writing materials. For his excuse toMr. Nott was more truthful than most polite pretexts. He had, indeed, aletter to write, and one that, being yet young in duplicity, the nearpresence of his host rendered difficult. For it ran as follows:--

  DEAR SLEIGHT: As I found I couldn't get a chance to make anyexamination of the ship except as occasion offered, I just went in torent lodgings in her from the God-forsaken old ass who owns her, andhere I am a tenant for two months. I contracted for that time in casethe old fool should sell out to some one else before. Except that she'scut up a little between decks by the partitions for lofts that thatPike County idiot has put into her, she looks but little changed, andher _fore-hold_, as far as I can judge, is intact. It seems that Nottbought her just as she stands, with her cargo half out, but he wasn'there when she broke cargo. If anybody else had bought her but thiscursed Missourian, who hasn't got the hayseed out of his hair, I mighthave found out something from him, and saved myself this kind offooling, which isn't in my line. If I could get possession of a loft onthe main deck, well forward, just over the fore-hold, I could satisfymyself in a few hours, but the loft is rented by that crazy Frenchmanwho parades Montgomery Street every afternoon, and though old PikeCounty wants to turn him out, I'm afraid I can't get it for a week tocome.

  If anything should happen to me, just you waltz down here and corral mythings at once, for this old frontier pirate has a way of confiscatinghis lodgers' trunks.

  Yours, DICK.

  III.

  If Mr. Renshaw indulged in any further curiosity regarding the interiorof the Pontiac, he did not make his active researches manifest toRosey. Nor, in spite of her father's invitation, did he again approachthe galley--a fact which gave her her first vague impression in hisfavor. He seemed also to avoid the various advances which Mr. Nottappeared impelled to make, whenever they met in the passage, but did sowithout seemingly avoiding _her_, and marked his half contemptuousindifference to the elder Nott by an increase of respect to the younggirl. She would have liked to ask him something about ships, and wassure his conversation would have been more interesting than that of oldCaptain Bower, to whose cabin he had succeeded, who had once told her aship was the "devil's hencoop." She would have liked also to explain tohim that she was not in the habit of wearing a purple bonnet. But herthoughts were presently engrossed by an experience which interruptedthe even tenor of her young life.

  She had been, as she afterwards remembered, impressed with a nervousrestlessness one afternoon, which made it impossible for her to performher ordinary household duties, or even to indulge her favoriterecreation of reading or castle-building. She wandered over the ship,and, impelled by the same vague feeling of unrest, descended to thelower deck and the forward bulkhead where she had discovered the openhatch. It had not been again disturbed, nor was there any trace offurther exploration. A little ashamed, she knew not why, of revisitingthe scene of Mr. Renshaw's researches, she was turning back when shenoticed that the door which communicated with De Ferrieres' loft waspartly open. The circumstance was so unusual that she stopped before itin surprise. There was no sound from within; it was the hour when itsqueer occupant was always absent; he must have forgotten to lock thedoor, or it had been unfastened by other hands. After a moment ofhesitation she pushed it further open and stepped into the room.

  By the dim light of two port-holes she could see that the floor wasstrewn and piled with the contents of a broken bale of curledhorse-hair, of which a few untouched bales still remained against thewall. A heap of morocco skins, some already cut in the form ofchair-cushion covers, and a few cushions unfinished and unstuffed, layin the light of the ports, and gave the apartment the appearance of acheap workshop. A rude instrument for combining the horse-hair, awls,buttons, and thread, heaped on a small bench, showed that active workhad been but recently interrupted. A cheap earthenware ewer and basinon the floor, and a pallet made of an open bale of horse-hair, on whicha ragged quilt and blanket were flung, indicated that the solitaryworker dwelt and slept beside his work.

  The truth flashed upon the young girl's active brain, quickened byseclusion and fed by solitary books. She read with keen eyes themiserable secret of her father's strange guest in the poverty-strickenwalls, in the mute evidences of menial handicraft performed inloneliness and privation, in this piteous adaptation of an accident tosave the conscious shame of premeditated toil. She knew now why he hadstammeringly refused to receive her father's offer to buy back thegoods he had given him; she knew now how hardly gained was the pittancethat paid his rent and supported his childish vanity and grotesquepride. From a peg in the corner hung the familiar masquerade that hidhis poverty--the pearl-gray trousers, the black frock-coat, the tallshining hat--in hideous contrast to the penury of his surroundings. Butif _they_ were here, where was _he_, and in what new disguise had heescaped from his poverty? A vague uneasiness caused her to hesitate andreturn to the open door. She had nearly reached it when her eye fell onthe pallet which it partly illuminated. A singular resemblance in theragged heap made her draw closer. The faded quilt was a dressing-gown,and clutching its folds lay a white, wasted hand.

  The emigrant childhood of Rose Nott had been more than once shadowed byscalping-knives, and she was acquainted with Death. She went fearlesslyto the couch, and found that the dressing-gown was only an enwrappingof the emaciated and lifeless body of De Ferrieres. She did not retreator call for help, but examined him closely. He was unconscious, but notpulseless; he had evidently been strong enough to open the door for airor succor, but had afterwards fallen into a fit on the couch. She flewto her father's locker and the galley fire, returned, and shut the doorbehind her, and by the skillful use of hot water and whiskey soon hadthe satisfaction of seeing a faint color take the place of the fadedrouge in the ghastly cheeks. She was still chafing his hands when heslowly opened his eyes. With a start, he made a quick attempt to pushaside her hand and rise. But she gently restrained him.

  "Eh--what!" he stammered, throwing his face back from hers with aneffort and trying to turn it to the wall.

  "Y
ou have been ill," she said quietly. "Drink this."

  With his face still turned away he lifted the cup to his chatteringteeth. When he had drained it he threw a trembling glance round theroom and at the door.

  "There's no one been here but myself," she said quickly. "I happened tosee the door open as I passed. I didn't think it worth while to callany one."

  The searching look he gave her turned into an expression of relief,which, to her infinite uneasiness, again feebly lightened into one ofantiquated gallantry. He drew the dressing-gown around him with an air.

  "Ah! it is a goddess, Mademoiselle, that has deigned to enter the cellwhere--where--I amuse myself. It is droll, is it not? I came here tomake--what you call--the experiment of your father's fabric. I makemyself--ha! ha!--like a workman. Ah, bah! the heat, the darkness, theplebeian motion make my head to go round. I stagger, I faint, I cryout, I fall. But what of that? The great God hears my cry and sends mean angel. _Voila_!"

  He attempted an easy gesture of gallantry, but overbalanced himself andfell sideways on the pallet with a gasp. Yet there was so much genuinefeeling mixed with his grotesque affectation, so much piteousconsciousness of the ineffectiveness of his falsehood, that the younggirl, who had turned away, came back and laid her hand upon his arm.

  "You must lie still and try to sleep," she said gently. "I will returnagain. Perhaps," she added, "there is some one I can send for?"

  He shook his head violently. Then in his old manner added, "AfterMademoiselle--no one."

  "I mean"--she hesitated; "have you no friends?"

  "Friends,--ah! without doubt." He shrugged his shoulders. "ButMademoiselle will comprehend"--

  "You are better now," said Rosey quickly, "and no one need knowanything if you don't wish it. Try to sleep. You need not lock the doorwhen I go; I will see that no one comes in."

  He flushed faintly and averted his eyes. "It is too droll,Mademoiselle, is it not?"

  "Of course it is," said Rosey, glancing round the miserable room.

  "And Mademoiselle is an angel."

  He carried her hand to his lips humbly--his first purely unaffectedaction. She slipped through the door, and softly closed it behind her.

  Reaching the upper deck she was relieved to find her father had notreturned, and her absence had been unnoticed. For she had resolved tokeep De Ferrieres' secret to herself from the moment that she hadunwittingly discovered it, and to do this and still be able to watchover him without her father's knowledge required some caution. She wasconscious of his strange aversion to the unfortunate man withoutunderstanding the reason, but as she was in the habit of entertaininghis caprices more from affectionate tolerance of his weakness thanreverence of his judgment, she saw no disloyalty to him in withholdinga confidence that might be disloyal to another. "It won't do father anygood to know it," she said to herself, "and if it _did_ it oughtn'tto," she added with triumphant feminine logic. But the impression madeupon her by the spectacle she had just witnessed was stronger than anyother consideration. The revelation of De Ferriefres' secret povertyseemed a chapter from a romance of her own weaving; for a moment itlifted the miserable hero out of the depths of his folly andselfishness. She forgot the weakness of the man in the strength of hisdramatic surroundings. It partly satisfied a craving she had felt; itwas not exactly the story of the ship, as she had dreamed it, but itwas an episode in her experience of it that broke its monotony. Thatshe should soon learn, perhaps from De Ferrieres' own lips, the truereason of his strange seclusion, and that it involved more thanappeared to her now, she never for a moment doubted.

  At the end of an hour she again knocked softly at the door, carryingsome light nourishment she had prepared for him. He was asleep, but shewas astounded to find that in the interval he had managed to dresshimself completely in his antiquated finery. It was a momentary shockto the allusion she had been fostering, but she forgot it in thepitiable contrast between his haggard face and his pomatumed hair andbeard, the jauntiness of his attire and the collapse of his invalidfigure. When she had satisfied herself that his sleep was natural, shebusied herself softly in arranging the miserable apartment. With a fewfeminine touches she removed the slovenliness of misery, and placed theloose material and ostentatious evidences of his work on one side.Finding that he still slept, and knowing the importance of this naturalmedication, she placed the refreshment she had brought by his side andnoiselessly quitted the apartment. Hurrying through the gatheringdarkness between decks, she once or twice thought she heard footsteps,and paused, but encountering no one, attributed the impression to herover-consciousness. Yet she thought it prudent to go to the galleyfirst, where she lingered a few moments before returning to the cabin.On entering she was a little startled at observing a figure seated ather father's desk, but was relieved at finding it was Mr. Renshaw.

  He rose and put aside the book he had idly picked up. "I am afraid I aman intentional intruder this time, Miss Nott. But I found no one here,and I was tempted to look into this ship-shape little snuggery. You seethe temptation got the better of me."

  His voice and smile were so frank and pleasant, so free from hisprevious restraint, yet still respectful, so youthful yet manly, thatRosey was affected by them even in her preoccupation. Her eyesbrightened and then dropped before his admiring glance. Had she knownthat the excitement of the last few hours had brought a wonderful charminto her pretty face, had aroused the slumbering life of herhalf-wakened beauty, she would have been more confused. As it was, shewas only glad that the young man should turn out to be "nice." Perhapshe might tell her something about ships; perhaps if she had only knownhim longer she might, with De Ferrieres' permission, have shared herconfidence with him, and enlisted his sympathy and assistance. Shecontented herself with showing this anticipatory gratitude in her faceas she begged him, with the timidity of a maiden hostess, to resume hisseat.

  But Mr. Renshaw seemed to talk only to make her talk, and I am forcedto admit that Rosey found this almost as pleasant. It was not longbefore he was in possession of her simple history from the day of herbaby emigration to California to the transfer of her childish life tothe old ship, and even of much of the romantic fancies she had woveninto her existence there. Whatever ulterior purpose he had in view, helistened as attentively as if her artless chronicle was filled withpractical information. Once, when she had paused for breath, he saidgravely, "I must ask you to show me over this wonderful ship some daythat I may see it with your eyes."

  "But I think you know it already better than I do," said Rosey with asmile.

  Mr. Renshaw's brow clouded slightly. "Ah," he said, with a touch of hisformer restraint; "and why?"

  "Well," said Rosey timidly, "I thought you went round and touchedthings in a familiar way as if you had handled them before."

  The young man raised his eyes to Rosey's and kept them there longenough to bring back his gentler expression. "Then, because I found youtrying on a very queer bonnet the first day I saw you," he said,mischievously, "I ought to believe you were in the habit of wearingone."

  In the first flush of mutual admiration young people are apt to find alaugh quite as significant as a sigh for an expression of sympatheticcommunion, and this master-stroke of wit convulsed them both. In themidst of it Mr. Nott entered the cabin. But the complacency with whichhe viewed the evident perfect understanding of the pair was destined tosuffer some abatement. Rosey, suddenly conscious that she was in someway participating in the ridicule of her father through his unhappygift, became embarrassed. Mr. Renshaw's restraint returned with thepresence of the old man. In vain, at first, Abner Nott strove withprofound levity to indicate his arch comprehension of the situation,and in vain, later, becoming alarmed, he endeavored, with cheerfulgravity, to indicate his utter obliviousness of any but a businesssignificance in their _tete-a-tete_.

  "I oughtn't to hev intruded, Rosey," he said, "when you and thegentleman were talkin' of contracts, mebbee; but don't mind me. I'm onthe fly, anyhow, Rosey dear, hevin' to see a man round the corner."
/>
  But even the attitude of withdrawing did not prevent the exit ofRenshaw to his apartment and of Rosey to the galley. Left alone in thecabin, Abner Nott felt in the knots and tangles of his beard for areason. Glancing down at his prodigious boots, which, covered with mudand gravel, strongly emphasized his agricultural origin, and gave him ageneral appearance of standing on his own broad acres, he was struckwith an idea. "It's them boots," he whispered to himself, softly; "theysomehow don't seem 'xactly to trump or follow suit in this yer cabin;they don't hitch into anythin' but jist slosh round loose, and so tospeak play it alone. And them young critters nat'rally feels it andgets out o' the way." Acting upon this instinct with his usualprecipitate caution, he at once proceeded to the nearest second-handshop, and, purchasing a pair of enormous carpet slippers, originallythe property of a gouty sea-captain, reappeared with a strongsuggestion of newly upholstering the cabin. The improvement, however,was fraught with a portentous circumstance. Mr. Nott's footsteps, whichusually announced his approach all over the ship, became stealthy andinaudible.

  Meantime Miss Rosey had taken advantage of the absence of her father tovisit her patient. To avoid attracting attention she did not take alight, but groped her way to the lower deck and rapped softly at thedoor. It was instantly opened by De Ferrieres. He had apparentlyappreciated the few changes she had already made in the room, and hadhimself cleared away the pallet from which he had risen to make two lowseats against the wall. Two bits of candle placed on the floorilluminated the beams above, the dressing-gown was artistically drapedover the solitary chair, and a pile of cushions formed another seat.With elaborate courtesy he handed Miss Rosey to the chair. He lookedpale and weak, though the gravity of the attack had evidently passed.Yet he persisted in remaining standing. "If I sit," he explained with agesture, "I shall again disgrace myself by sleeping in Mademoiselle'spresence. Yes! I shall sleep--I shall dream--and wake to find hergone!"

  More embarrassed by his recovery than when he was lying helplesslybefore her, she said hesitatingly that she was glad he was better, andthat she hoped he liked the broth.

  "It was manna from heaven, Mademoiselle. See, I have taken itall--every precious drop. What else could I have done forMademoiselle's kindness?"

  He showed her the empty bowl. A swift conviction came upon her that theman had been suffering from want of food. The thought restored herself-possession even while it brought the tears to her eyes. "I wishyou would let me speak to father--or some one," she said impulsively,and stopped.

  A quick and half insane gleam of terror and suspicion lit up his deepeyes. "For what, Mademoiselle! For an accident--that isnothing--absolutely nothing, for I am strong and well now--see!" hesaid tremblingly. "Or for a whim--for a folly you may say, that theywill misunderstand. No, Mademoiselle is good, is wise. She will say toherself, 'I understand, my friend Monsieur de Ferrieres for the momenthas a secret. He would seem poor, he would take the role of artisan, hewould shut himself up in these walls--perhaps I may guess why, but itis his secret. I think of it no more.'" He caught her hand in his witha gesture that he would have made one of gallantry, but that in itstremulous intensity became a piteous supplication.

  "I have said nothing, and will say nothing, if you wish it," said Roseyhastily; "but others may find out how you live here. This is not fitwork for you. You seem to be a--a gentleman. You ought to be a lawyer,or a doctor, or in a bank," she continued timidly, with a vagueenumeration of the prevailing degrees of local gentility.

  He dropped her hand. "Ah! does not Mademoiselle comprehend that it is_because_ I am a gentleman that there is nothing between it and this?Look!" he continued almost fiercely. "What if I told you it is thelawyer, it is the doctor, it is the banker that brings me, a gentleman,to this, eh? Ah, bah! What do I say? This is honest, what I do! But thelawyer, the banker, the doctor, what are they?" He shrugged hisshoulders, and pacing the apartment with a furtive glance at the halfanxious, half frightened girl, suddenly stopped, dragged a smallportmanteau from behind the heap of bales and opened it. "Look,Mademoiselle," he said, tremulously lifting a handful of worn andsoiled letters and papers. "Look--these are the tools of your banker,your lawyer, your doctor. With this the banker will make you poor, thelawyer will prove you a thief, the doctor will swear you are crazy, eh?What shall you call the work of a gentleman--this"--he dragged the pileof cushions forward--"or this?"

  To the young girl's observant eyes some of the papers appeared to be ofa legal or official character, and others like bills of lading, withwhich she was familiar. Their half theatrical exhibition reminded herof some play she had seen; they might be the clue to some story, or themere worthless hoardings of some diseased fancy. Whatever they were, DeFerrieres did not apparently care to explain further; indeed, the nextmoment his manner changed to his old absurd extravagance. "But this isstupid for Mademoiselle to hear. What shall we speak of? Ah! what_should_ we speak of in Mademoiselle's presence?"

  "But are not these papers valuable?" asked Rosey, partly to draw herhost's thoughts back to their former channel.

  "Perhaps." He paused and regarded the young girl fixedly. "DoesMademoiselle think so?"

  "I don't know," said Rosey. "How should I?"

  "Ah! if Mademoiselle thought so--if Mademoiselle would deign"--Hestopped again and placed his hand upon his forehead. "It might be so!"he muttered.

  "I must go now," said Rosey hurriedly, rising with an awkward sense ofconstraint. "Father will wonder where I am."

  "I shall explain. I will accompany you, Mademoiselle."

  "No, no," said Rosey, quickly; "he must not know I have been here!" Shestopped. The honest blush flew to her cheek, and then returned again,because she had blushed.

  De Ferrieres gazed at her with an exalted look. Then drawing himself tohis full height, he said, with an exaggerated and indescribablegesture, "Go, my child, go. Tell your father that you have been aloneand unprotected in the abode of poverty and suffering, but--that it wasin the presence of Armand de Ferrieres."

  He threw open the door with a bow that nearly swept the ground, but didnot again offer to take her hand. At once impressed and embarrassed atthis crowning incongruity, her pretty lips trembled between a smile anda cry as she said, "Good-night," and slipped away into the darkness.

  Erect and grotesque De Ferrieres retained the same attitude until thesound of her footsteps was lost, when he slowly began to close thedoor. But a strong arm arrested it from without, and a large carpetedfoot appeared at the bottom of the narrowing opening. The door yielded,and Mr. Abner Nott entered the room.

  IV.

  With an exclamation and a hurried glance around him, De Ferrieres threwhimself before the intruder. But slowly lifting his large hand, andplacing it on his lodger's breast, he quietly overbore the sick man'sfeeble resistance with an impact of power that seemed almost as moralas it was physical. He did not appear to take any notice of the room orits miserable surroundings; indeed, scarcely of the occupant. Stillpushing him, with abstracted eyes and immobile face, to the chair thatRosey had just quitted, he made him sit down, and then took up his ownposition on the pile of cushions opposite. His usually underdonecomplexion was of watery blueness; but his dull, abstracted glanceappeared to exercise a certain dumb, narcotic fascination on hislodger.

  "I mout," said Nott, slowly, "hev laid ye out here on sight, withoutenny warnin', or dropped ye in yer tracks in Montgomery Street,wherever there was room to work a six-shooter in comf'ably? Johnson, ofPetaluny--him, ye know, ez hed a game eye--fetched Flynn comin' outermeetin' one Sunday, and it was only on account of his wife, and she asecond-hand one, so to speak. There was Walker, of Contra Costa,plugged that young Sacramento chap, whose name I disremember, full o'holes jest ez he was sayin' 'Good-by' to his darter. I mout hev doneall this if it had settled things to please me. For while you and Flynnand that Sacramento chap ez all about the same sort o' men, Rosey's adifferent kind from their sort o' women."

  "Mademoiselle is an angel!" said De Ferrieres, suddenly rising, with anexcess
of extravagance. "A saint! Look! I cram the lie, ha! down histhroat who challenges it."

  "Ef by mam'selle ye mean my Rosey," said Nott, quietly laying hispowerful hands on De Ferrieres' shoulders, and slowly pinning him downagain upon his chair, "ye're about right, though she ain't mam'selleyet. Ez I was sayin', I might hev killed you off-hand ef I hed thoughtit would hev been a good thing for Rosey."

  "For, her? Ah, well! Look, I am ready," interrupted De Ferrieres, againspringing to his feet, and throwing open his coat with both hands."See! here at my heart--fire!"

  "Ez I was sayin'," continued Nott, once more pressing the excited mandown in his chair, "I might hev wiped ye out--and mebbee ye wouldn'thev keered--or _you_ might hev wiped _me_ out, and I mout hev said.'Thank'ee,' but I reckon this ain't a case for what's comfable for youand me. It's what's good for _Rosey_. And the thing to kalkilate is,what's to be done."

  His small round eyes for the first time rested on De Ferrieres' face,and were quickly withdrawn. It was evident that this abstracted look,which had fascinated his lodger, was merely a resolute avoidance of DeFerrieres' glance, and it became apparent later that this avoidance wasdue to a ludicrous appreciation of De Ferrieres' attractions.

  "And after we've done _that_ we must kalkilate what Rosey _is_, andwhat Rosey wants. P'r'aps, ye allow, _you_ know what Rosey is? P'r'apsyou've seen her prance round in velvet bonnets and white satinslippers, and sich. P'r'aps you've seen her readin' tracks and v'yages,without waitin' to spell a word, or catch her breath. But that ain'tthe Rosey ez _I_ knows. It's a little child ez uster crawl in and outthe tail-board of a Mizzouri wagon on the alcali-pizoned plains, wherethere wasn't another bit of God's mercy on yearth to be seen for milesand miles. It's a little gal as uster hunger and thirst ez quiet andmannerly ez she now eats and drinks in plenty; whose voice was ezsteady with Injins yellin' round yer nest in the leaves on Sweetwaterez in her purty cabin up yonder. _That's_ the gal ez I knows! That'sthe Rosey ez my ole woman puts into my arms one night arter we leftLaramie when the fever was high, and sez, 'Abner,' sez she, 'thechariot is swingin' low for me to-night, but thar ain't room in it forher or you to git in or hitch on. Take her and rare her, so we kin alljine on the other shore,' sez she. And I'd knowed the other shorewasn't no Kaliforny. And that night, p'r'aps, the chariot swung lowerthan ever before, and my ole woman stepped into it, and left me andRosey to creep on in the old wagon alone. It's them kind o' things,"added Mr. Nott thoughtfully, "that seem to pint to my killin' you onsight ez the best thing to be done. And yet Rosey mightn't like it."

  He had slipped one of his feet out of his huge carpet slippers, and, ashe reached down to put it on again, he added calmly: "And ez to yermarrying _her_ it ain't to be done."

  The utterly bewildered expression which transfigured De Ferrieres' faceat this announcement was unobserved by Nott's averted eyes, nor did heperceive that his listener the next moment straightened his erectfigure and adjusted his cravat.

  "Ef Rosey," he continued, "hez read in v'yages and tracks in Eyetalianand French countries of such chaps ez you and kalkilates you're theright kind to tie to, mebbee it mout hev done if you'd been livin' overthar in a pallis, but somehow it don't jibe in over here and agree witha ship--and that ship lying comf'able ashore in San Francisco. Youdon't seem to suit the climate, you see, and your general gait islikely to stampede the other cattle. Agin," said Nott, with anostentation of looking at his companion but really gazing on vacancy,"this fixed-up, antique style of yours goes better with themivy-kivered ruins in Rome and Palmyry that Rosey's mixed you up with,than it would yere. I ain't sayin'," he added as De Ferrieres was aboutto speak, "I ain't sayin' ez that child ain't smitten with ye. It ain'tno use to lie and say she don't prefer you to her old father, or youngchaps of her own age and kind. I've seed it afor now. I suspicioned itafor I seed her slip out o' this place to-night. Thar! keep your hairon, such ez it is!" he added, as De Ferrieres attempted a quickdeprecatory gesture. "I ain't askin' yer how often she comes here, norwhat she sez to you nor you to her. I ain't asked her and I don't askyou. I'll allow ez you've settled all the preliminaries and bought herthe ring and sich; I'm only askin' you now, kalkilatin' you've got allthe keerds in your own hand, what you'll take to step out and leave theboard?"

  The dazed look of De Ferrieres might have forced itself even uponNott's one-idead fatuity, had it not been a part of that gentleman'ssystem delicately to look another way at that moment so as not toembarrass his adversary's calculation. "Pardon," stammered DeFerrieres, "but I do not comprehend!" He raised his hand to his head."I am not well--I am stupid. Ah, mon Dieu!"

  "I ain't sayin'," added Nott more gently, "ez you don't feel bad. It'snat'ral. But it ain't business. I'm asking you," he continued, takingfrom his breast-pocket a large wallet, "how much you'll take in cashnow, and the rest next steamer day, to give up Rosey and leave theship."

  De Ferrieres staggered to his feet despite Nott's restraining hand. "Toleave Mademoiselle and leave the ship?" he said huskily, "is it not?"

  "In course. Yer can leave things yer just ez you found 'em when youcame, you know," continued Nott, for the first time looking round themiserable apartment. "It's a business job. I'll take the bales backagin, and you kin reckon up what you're out, countin' Rosey and loss o'time."

  "He wishes me to go--he has said," repeated De Ferrieres to himselfthickly.

  "Ef you mean _me_ when you say _him_, and ez thar ain't any other manaround, I reckon you do--'yes!'"

  "And he asks me--he--this man of the feet and the daughter--asks me--DeFerrieres--what I will take," continued De Ferrieres, buttoning hiscoat. "No! it is a dream!" He walked stiffly to the corner where hisportmanteau lay, lifted it, and going to the outer door, a cut throughthe ship's side that communicated with the alley, unlocked it and flungit open to the night. A thick mist like the breath of the ocean flowedinto the room.

  "You ask me what I shall take to go," he said as he stood on thethreshold. "I shall take what _you_ cannot give, Monsieur, but what Iwould not keep if I stood here another moment. I take my Honor,Monsieur, and--I take my leave!"

  For a moment his grotesque figure was outlined in the opening, and thendisappeared as if he had dropped into an invisible ocean below.Stupefied and disconcerted a this complete success of his overtures,Abner Nott remained speechless, gazing at the vacant space until a coldinflux of the mist recalled him. Then he rose and shuffled quickly tothe door.

  "Hi! Ferrers! Look yer--Say! Wot's your hurry, pardner?"

  But there was no response. The thick mist, which hid the surroundingobjects, seemed to deaden all sound also. After a moment's pause heclosed the door, but did not lock it, and retreating to the center ofthe room remained blinking at the two candles and plucking someperplexing problem from his beard. Suddenly an idea seized him. Rosey!Where was she? Perhaps it had been a preconcerted plan, and she hadfled with him. Putting out the lights he stumbled hurriedly through thepassage to the gangway above. The cabin--door was open; there was thesound of voices--Renshaw's and Rosey's. Mr. Nott felt relieved but notunembarrassed. He would have avoided his daughter's presence thatevening. But even while making this resolution with characteristicinfelicity he blundered into the room. Rosey looked up with a slightstart; Renshaw's animated face was changed to its former expression ofinward discontent.

  "You came in so like a ghost, father," said Rosey with a slightpeevishness that was new to her. "And I thought you were in town. Don'tgo, Mr. Renshaw."

  But Mr. Renshaw intimated that he had already trespassed upon MissNott's time, and that no doubt her father wanted to talk with her. Tohis surprise and annoyance, however, Mr. Nott insisted on accompanyinghim to his room, and without heeding Renshaw's cold "Goodnight,"entered and closed the door behind him.

  "P'raps," said Mr. Nott with a troubled air, "you disremember that whenyou first kem here you asked me if you could hev that 'er loft that theFrenchman had downstairs."

  "No, I don't remember it," said Renshaw almost rudely. "But," he added,after a pause,
with the air of a man obliged to revive a stale andunpleasant memory, "if I did--what about it?"

  "Nuthin', only that you kin hev it to-morrow, ez that 'ere Frenchman ismovin' out," responded Nott. "I thought you was sorter keen about itwhen you first kem."

  "Umph! we'll talk about it to-morrow." Something in the look of weariedperplexity with which Mr. Nott was beginning to regard his own _mal apropos_ presence, arrested the young man's attention. "What's thereason you didn't sell this old ship long ago, take a decent house inthe town, and bring up your daughter like a lady?" he asked, with asudden blunt good-humor. But even this implied blasphemy against thehabitation he worshiped did not prevent Mr. Nott from his usualmisconstruction of the question.

  "I reckon, now, Rosey's got high-flown ideas of livin' in a castle withruins, eh?" he said cunningly.

  "Haven't heard her say," returned Renshaw abruptly. "Good-night."

  Firmly convinced that Rosey had been unable to conceal from Mr. Renshawthe influence of her dreams of a castellated future with De Ferrieres,he regained the cabin. Satisfying himself that his daughter hadretired, he sought his own couch. But not to sleep. The figure of DeFerrieres, standing in the ship side and melting into the outerdarkness, haunted him, and compelled him in dreams to rise and followhim through the alleys and byways of the crowded city. Again, it was apart of his morbid suspicion that he now invested the absent man with apotential significance and an unknown power.

  What deep-laid plans might he not form to possess himself of Rosey, ofwhich he, Abner Nott, would be ignorant? Unchecked by the restraint ofa father's roof, he would now give full license to his power. "Saidhe'd take his Honor with him," muttered Abner to himself in the dimwatches of the night; "lookin' at that sayin' in its right light, itlooks bad."

  V.

  The elaborately untruthful account which Mr. Nott gave his daughter ofDe Ferrieres' sudden departure was more fortunate than his usualequivocations. While it disappointed and slightly mortified her, it didnot seem to her inconsistent with what she already knew of him. "Saidhis doctor had ordered him to quit town under an hour, owing to acomin' attack of hay fever, and he had a friend from furrin partswaitin' him at the Springs, Rosey," explained Nott, hesitating betweenhis desire to avoid his daughter's eyes and his wish to observe hercountenance.

  "Was he worse?--I mean did he look badly, father?" inquired Rosey,thoughtfully.

  "I reckon not exactly bad. Kinder looked as if he mout be worse soon efhe didn't hump hisself."

  "Did you see him?--in his room?" asked Rosey anxiously. Upon the answerto this simple question depended the future confidential relations offather and daughter. If her father had himself detected the means bywhich his lodger existed, she felt that her own obligations to secrecyhad been removed. But Mr. Nott's answer disposed of this vain hope. Itwas a response after his usual fashion to the question he _imagined_she artfully wished to ask, _i.e._ if he had discovered theirrendezvous of the previous night. This it was part of his peculiardelicacy to ignore. Yet his reply showed that he had been unconsciousof the one miserable secret that he might have read easily.

  "I was there an hour or so--him and me alone--discussin' trade. Ireckon he's got a good thing outer that curled horse-hair, for I seehe's got in an invoice o' cushions. I've stowed 'em all in the forrardbulkhead until he sends for 'em, ez Mr. Renshaw hez taken the loft."

  But although Mr. Renshaw had taken the loft, he did not seem in hasteto occupy it. He spent part of the morning in uneasily pacing his room,in occasional sallies into the street from which he purposelesslyreturned, and once or twice in distant and furtive contemplation ofRosey at work in the galley. This last observation was not unnoticed bythe astute Nott, who at once conceiving that he was nourishing a secretand hopeless passion for Rosey, began to consider whether it was nothis duty to warn the young man of her preoccupied affections. But Mr.Renshaw's final disappearance obliged him to withhold his confidencetill morning.

  This time Mr. Renshaw left the ship with the evident determination ofsome settled purpose. He walked rapidly until he reached thecounting-house of Mr. Sleight, when he was at once shown into a privateoffice. In a few moments Mr. Sleight, a brusque but passionless man,joined him.

  "Well," said Sleight, closing the door carefully. "What news?"

  "None," said Renshaw bluntly. "Look here, Sleight," he added, turningto him suddenly. "Let me out of this game. I don't like it."

  "Does that mean you've found nothing?" asked Sleight, sarcastically.

  "It means that I haven't looked for anything, and that I don't intendto without the full knowledge of that d--d fool who owns the ship."

  "You've changed your mind since you wrote that letter," said Sleightcoolly, producing from a drawer the note already known to the reader.Renshaw mechanically extended his hand to take it. Mr. Sleight droppedthe letter back into the drawer, which he quietly locked. Theapparently simple act dyed Mr. Renshaw's cheek with color, but itvanished quickly, and with it any token of his previous embarrassment.He looked at Sleight with the convinced air of a resolute man who hadat last taken a disagreeable step but was willing to stand by theconsequences.

  "I _have_ changed my mind," he said coolly. "I found out that it wasone thing to go down there as a skilled prospector might go to examinea mine that was to be valued according to his report of theindications, but that it was entirely another thing to go and play thespy in a poor devil's house in order to buy something he didn't know hewas selling and wouldn't sell if he did."

  "And something that the man _he_ bought of didn't think of selling;something _he_ himself never paid for, and never expected to buy,"sneered Sleight.

  "But something that _we_ expect to buy from our knowledge of all this,and it is that which makes all the difference."

  "But you knew all this before."

  "I never saw it in this light before. I never thought of it until I wasliving there face to face with the old fool I was intending tooverreach. I never was _sure_ of it until this morning, when heactually turned out one of his lodgers that I might have the very roomI required to play off our little game in comfortably. When he didthat, I made up my mind to drop the whole thing, and I'm here to doit."

  "And let somebody else take the responsibility--with thepercentage--unless you've also felt it your duty to warn Nott too,"said Sleight with a sneer.

  "You only dare say that to me, Sleight," said Renshaw quietly, "becauseyou have in that drawer an equal evidence of my folly and myconfidence; but if you are wise you will not presume too far on either.Let us see how we stand. Through the yarn of a drunken captain and amutinous sailor you became aware of an unclaimed shipment of treasure,concealed in an unknown ship that entered this harbor. You are enabled,through me, to corroborate some facts and identify the ship. Youproposed to me, as a speculation, to identify the treasure if possiblebefore you purchased the ship. I accepted the offer withoutconsideration; on consideration I now decline it, but without prejudiceor loss to any one but myself. As to your insinuation I need not remindyou that my presence here to-day refutes it. I would not require yourpermission to make a much better bargain with a good-natured fool likeNott than I could with you. Or if I did not care for the business Icould have warned the girl"--

  "The girl--what girl?"

  Renshaw bit his lip, but answered boldly: "The old man's daughter--apoor girl--whom this act would rob as well as her father."

  Sleight looked at his companion attentively. "You might have said so atfirst, and let up on this camp-meetin' exhortation. Wellthen--admitting you've got the old man and the young girl on the samestring, and that you've played it pretty low down in the short timeyou've been there--I suppose, Dick Renshaw, I've got to see your bluff.Well, how much is it? What's the figure you and she have settled on?"

  For an instant Mr. Sleight was in physical danger.

  But before he had finished speaking Renshaw's quick sense of theludicrous had so far overcome his first indignation as to enable himeven to admire the perfect moral insensibil
ity of his companion. As herose and walked towards the door, he half wondered that he had evertreated the affair seriously. With a smile he replied:

  "Far from bluffing, Sleight, I am throwing my cards on the table.Consider that I've passed out. Let some other man take my hand. Rakedown the pot if you like, old man, _I_ leave for Sacramento to-night._Adios_."

  When the door had closed behind him Mr. Sleight summoned his clerk.

  "Is that petition for grading Pontiac Street ready?"

  "I've seen the largest property holders, sir; they're only waiting foryou to sign first," Mr. Sleight paused and then affixed his signatureto the paper his clerk laid before him. "Get the other names and sendit up at once."

  "If Mr. Nott doesn't sign, sir?"

  "No matter. He will be assessed all the same." Mr. Sleight took up hishat.

  "The Lascar seaman that was here the other day has been wanting to seeyou, sir. I said you were busy."

  Mr. Sleight put down his hat. "Send him up."

  Nevertheless Mr. Sleight sat down and at once abstracted himself socompletely as to be apparently in utter oblivion of the man whoentered. He was lithe and Indian-looking; bearing in dress and mannerthe careless slouch without the easy frankness of a sailor.

  "Well!" said Sleight without looking up.

  "I was only wantin' to know ef you had any news for me, boss?"

  "News?" echoed Sleight as if absently; "news of what?"

  "That little matter of the Pontiac we talked about, boss," returned theLascar with an uneasy servility in the whites of his teeth and eyes.

  "Oh," said Sleight, "that's played out. It's a regular fraud. It's anold forecastle yarn, my man, that you can't reel off in the cabin."

  The sailor's face darkened.

  "The man who was looking into it has thrown the whole thing up. I tellyou it's played out!" repeated Sleight, without raising his head.

  "It's true, boss--every word," said the Lascar, with an appealinginsinuation that seemed to struggle hard with savage earnestness. "Youcan swear me, boss; I wouldn't lie to a gentleman like you. Your manhasn't half looked, or else--it must be there, or"--

  "That's just it," said Sleight slowly; "who's to know that your friendshaven't been there already--that seems to have been your style."

  "But no one knew it but me, until I told you, I swear to God. I ain'tlying, boss, and I ain't drunk. Say--don't give it up, boss. That manof yours likely don't believe it, because he don't know anything aboutit. I _do--I_ could find it."

  A silence followed. Mr. Sleight remained completely absorbed in hispapers for some moments. Then glancing at the Lascar, he took his pen,wrote a hurried note, folded it, addressed it, and, holding it betweenhis fingers, leaned back in his chair.

  "If you choose to take this note to my man, he may give it anothershow. Mind, I don't say that he _will_. He's going to Sacramentoto-night, but you could go down there and find him before he starts.He's got a room there, I believe. While you're waiting for him youmight keep your eyes open to satisfy yourself."

  "Ay, ay, sir," said the sailor, eagerly endeavoring to catch the eye ofhis employer. But Mr. Sleight looked straight before him, and he turnedto go.

  "The Sacramento boat goes at nine," said Mr. Sleight quietly.

  This time their glances met, and the Lascar's eye glistened with subtleintelligence. The next moment he was gone, and Mr. Sleight again becameabsorbed in his papers.

  Meanwhile Renshaw was making his way back to the Pontiac with thatlight-hearted optimism that had characterized his parting with Sleight.It was this quality of his nature, fostered perhaps by the easycivilization in which he moved, that had originally drawn him intorelations with the man he just quitted; a quality that had beentroubled and darkened by those relations, yet, when they were broken,at once returned. It consequently did not occur to him that he had onlyselfishly compromised with the difficulty; it seemed to him enough thathe had withdrawn from a compact he thought dishonorable; he was notcalled upon to betray his partner in that compact merely to benefitothers. He had been willing to incur suspicion and loss to reinstatehimself in his self-respect, more he could not do without justifyingthat suspicion. The view taken by Sleight was, after all, that whichmost business men would take--which even the unbusinesslike Nott wouldtake--which the girl herself might be tempted to listen to. Clearly hecould do nothing but abandon the Pontiac and her owner to the fate hecould not in honor avert. And even that fate was problematical. It didnot follow that the treasure was still concealed in the Pontiac, northat Nott would be willing to sell her. He would make some excuse toNott--he smiled to think he would probably be classed in the long lineof absconding tenants--he would say good-by to Rosey, and leave forSacramento that night. He ascended the stairs to the gangway with afreer breast than when he first entered the ship.

  Mr. Nott was evidently absent, and after a quick glance at thehalf-open cabin-door, Renshaw turned towards the galley. But Miss Roseywas not in her accustomed haunt, and with a feeling of disappointment,which seemed inconsistent with so slight a cause, he crossed the deckimpatiently and entered his room. He was about to close the door whenthe prolonged rustle of a trailing skirt in the passage attracted hisattention. The sound was so unlike that made by any garment worn byRosey that he remained motionless, with his hand on the door. The soundapproached nearer, and the next moment a white veiled figure with atrailing skirt slowly swept past the room. Renshaw's pulses halted foran instant in half superstitious awe. As the apparition glided on andvanished in the cabin-door he could only see that it was the form of abeautiful and graceful woman--but nothing more. Bewildered and curious,he forgot himself so far as to follow it, and impulsively entered thecabin. The figure turned, uttered a little cry, threw the veil aside,and showed the half troubled, half blushing face of Rosey.

  "I--beg--your pardon," stammered Renshaw; "I didn't know it was you."

  "I was trying on some things," said Rosey, recovering her composure andpointing to an open trunk that seemed to contain a theatricalwardrobe--"some things father gave me long ago. I wanted to see ifthere was anything I could use. I thought I was all alone in the ship,but fancying I heard a noise forward I came out to see what it was. Isuppose it must have been you."

  She raised her clear eyes to his, with a slight touch of womanlyreserve that was so incompatible with any vulgar vanity or girlishcoquetry that he became the more embarrassed. Her dress, too, of aslightly antique shape, rich but simple, seemed to reveal and accent acertain repose of gentlewomanliness, that he was now wishing to believehe had always noticed. Conscious of a superiority in her that nowseemed to change their relations completely, he alone remained silent,awkward, and embarrassed before the girl who had taken care of hisroom, and who cooked in the galley! What he had thoughtlesslyconsidered a merely vulgar business intrigue against her stupid father,now to his extravagant fancy assumed the proportions of a sacrilege toherself.

  "You've had your revenge, Miss Nott, for the fright I once gave you,"he said a little uneasily, "for you quite startled me just now as youpassed. I began to think the Pontiac was haunted. I thought you were aghost. I don't know why such a ghost should _frighten_ anybody," hewent on with a desperate attempt to recover his position by gallantry."Let me see--that's Donna Elvira's dress--is it not?"

  "I don't think that was the poor woman's name," said Rosey simply; "shedied of yellow fever at New Orleans as Signora Somebody."

  Her ignorance seemed to Mr. Renshaw so plainly to partake more of thenun than the provincial, that he hesitated to explain to her that hemeant the heroine of an opera.

  "It seems dreadful to put on the poor thing's clothes, doesn't it?" sheadded.

  Mr. Renshaw's eyes showed so plainly that he thought otherwise, thatshe drew a little austerely towards the door of her state-room.

  "I must change these things before any one comes," she said dryly.

  "That means I must go, I suppose. But couldn't you let me wait here orin the gangway until then, Miss Nott? I am going away to-nig
ht, and Imayn't see you again." He had not intended to say this, but it slippedfrom his embarrassed tongue. She stopped with her hand on the door.

  "You are going away?"

  "I--think--I must leave to-night. I have some important business inSacramento."

  She raised her frank eyes to his. The unmistakable look ofdisappointment that he saw in them gave his heart a sudden throb andsent the quick blood to his cheeks.

  "It's too bad," she said, abstractedly. "Nobody ever seems to stay herelong. Captain Bower promised to tell me all about the ship, and he wentaway the second week. The photographer left before he finished thepicture of the Pontiac; Monsieur de Ferrieres has only just gone; andnow _you_ are going."

  "Perhaps, unlike them, I have finished my season of usefulness here,"he replied, with a bitterness he would have recalled the next moment.But Rosey, with a faint sigh, saying, "I won't be long," entered thestate-room and closed the door behind her.

  Renshaw bit his lip and pulled at the long silken threads of hismustache until they smarted. Why had he not gone at once? Why was itnecessary to say he might not see her again--and if he had said it, whyshould he add anything more? What was he waiting for now? To endeavorto prove to her that he really bore no resemblance to Captain Bower,the photographer, the crazy Frenchman De Ferrieres? Or would he beforced to tell her that he was running away from a conspiracy todefraud her father--merely for something to say? Was there ever suchfolly? Rosey was "not long," as she had said, but he was beginning topace the narrow cabin impatiently when the door opened and shereturned.

  She had resumed her ordinary calico gown, but such was the impressionleft upon Renshaw's fancy that she seemed to wear it with a new grace.At any other time he might have recognized the change as due to a newcorset, which strict veracity compels me to record Rosey had adoptedfor the first time that morning. Howbeit, her slight coquetry seemed tohave passed, for she closed the open trunk with a return of her oldlistless air, and sitting on it rested her elbows on her knees and heroval chin in her hands.

  "I wish you would do me a favor," she said after a reflective pause.

  "Let me know what it is and it shall be done," replied Renshaw quickly.

  "If you should come across Monsieur de Ferrieres, or hear of him, Iwish you would let me know. He was very poorly when he left here, and Ishould like to know if he was better. He didn't say where he was going.At least, he didn't tell father; but I fancy he and father don'tagree."

  "I shall be very glad of having even _that_ opportunity of making youremember me, Miss Nott," returned Renshaw with a faint smile. "I don'tsuppose either that it would be very difficult to get news of yourfriend--everybody seems to know him."

  "But not as I did," said Rosey, with an abstracted little sigh.

  Mr. Renshaw opened his brown eyes upon her. Was he mistaken? Was thisromantic girl only a little coquette playing her provincial airs onhim? "You say he and your father didn't agree? That means, I suppose,that _you_ and he agreed?--and that was the result."

  "I don't think father knew anything about it," said Rosey simply.

  Mr. Renshaw rose. And this was what he had been waiting to hear!"Perhaps," he said grimly, "you would also like news of thephotographer and Captain Bower, or did your father agree with thembetter?"

  "No," said Rosey quietly. She remained silent for a moment, and liftingher lashes said, "Father always seemed to agree with _you_, andthat"--she hesitated.

  "That's why _you_ don't."

  "I didn't say that," said Rosey, with an incongruous increase ofcoldness and color. "I only meant to say it was that which makes itseem so hard you should go now."

  Notwithstanding his previous determination Renshaw found himselfsitting down again. Confused and pleased, wishing he had said more--orless--he said nothing, and Rosey was forced to continue.

  "It's strange, isn't it--but father was urging me this morning to makea visit to some friends at the old Ranch. I didn't want to go. I likeit much better here."

  "But you cannot bury yourself here forever, Miss Nott," said Renshaw,with a sudden burst of honest enthusiasm. "Sooner or later you will beforced to go where you will be properly appreciated, where you will beadmired and courted, where your slightest wish will be law. Believe me,without flattery, you don't know your own power."

  "It doesn't seem strong enough to keep even the little I like here,"said Rosey, with a slight glistening of the eyes. "But," she addedhastily, "you don't know how much the dear old ship is to me. It's theonly home I think I ever had."

  "But the Ranch?" said Renshaw.

  "The Ranch seemed to be only the old wagon halted in the road. It was avery little improvement on out-doors," said Rosey, with a littleshiver. "But this is so cosy and snug, and yet so strange and foreign.Do you know I think I began to understand why I like it so since youtaught me so much about ships and voyages. Before that I only learnedfrom books. Books deceive you, I think, more than people do. Don't youthink so?"

  She evidently did not notice the quick flush that covered his cheeksand apparently dazzled his troubled eyelids, for she went onconfidentially:

  "I was thinking of you yesterday. I was sitting by the galley door,looking forward. You remember the first day I saw you when you startledme by coming up out of the hatch?"

  "I wish you wouldn't think of that," said Renshaw, with moreearnestness than he would have made apparent.

  "_I_ don't want to, either," said Rosey, gravely, "for I've had astrange fancy about it. I saw once, when I was younger, a picture in aprint shop in Montgomery Street that haunted me. I think it was called'The Pirate.' There were a number of wicked-looking sailors lyingaround the deck, and coming out of the hatch was one figure, with hishands on the deck and a cutlass in his mouth."

  "Thank you," said Renshaw.

  "You don't understand. He was horrid-looking, not at all like you. Inever thought of _him_ when I first saw you; but the other day Ithought how dreadful it would have been if some one like him and notlike you had come up then. That made me nervous sometimes of beingalone. I think father is too. He often goes about stealthily at night,as if he was watching for something."

  Renshaw's face grew suddenly dark. Could it be possible that Sleighthad always suspected him, and set spies to watch--or was he guilty ofsome double intrigue?

  "He thinks," continued Rosey, with a faint smile, "that some one islooking round the ship, and talks of setting bear-traps. I hope you'renot mad, Mr. Renshaw," she added, suddenly catching sight of hischanged expression, "at my foolishness in saying you reminded me of thepirate. I meant nothing."

  "I know you're incapable of meaning anything but good to anybody, MissNott, perhaps to me more than I deserve," said Renshaw, with a suddenburst of feeling. "I wish--I wish--you would do _me_ a favor. _You_asked me one just now." He had taken her hand. It seemed so like a mereillustration of his earnestness, that she did not withdraw it. "Yourfather tells you everything. If he has any offer to dispose of theship, will you write to me at once before anything is concluded?" Hewinced a little--the sentence of Sleight, "What's the figure you andshe have settled upon?" flashed across his mind. He scarcely noticedthat Rosey had withdrawn her hand coldly.

  "Perhaps you had better speak to father, as it is _his_ business.Besides, I shall not be here. I shall be at the Ranch."

  "But you said you didn't want to go?"

  "I've changed my mind," said Rosey, listlessly. "I shall go to-night."

  She rose as if to indicate that the interview was ended. With anoverpowering instinct that his whole future happiness depended upon hisnext act, he made a step towards her, with eager outstretched hands.But she slightly lifted her own with a warning gesture, "I hear fathercoming--you will have a chance to talk _business_ with him," she said,and vanished into her state-room.

  VI.

  The heavy tread of Abner Nott echoed in the passage. Confused andembarrassed, Renshaw remained standing at the door that had closed uponRosey as her father entered the cabin. Providence, which alwaysfostered Mr
. Nott's characteristic misconceptions, left thatperspicacious parent but one interpretation of the situation. Rosey hadevidently just informed Mr. Renshaw that she loved another!

  "I was just saying good-by to Miss Nott," said Renshaw, hastilyregaining his composure with an effort. "I am going to Sacramentoto-night, and will not return. I"--

  "In course, in course," interrupted Nott, soothingly; "that's wot yousay now, and that's wot you allow to do. That's wot they allus do."

  "I mean," said Renshaw, reddening at what he conceived to be anallusion to the absconding propensities of Nott's previous tenants,--"Imean that you shall keep the advance to cover any loss you might sufferthrough my giving up the rooms."

  "Certingly," said Nott, laying his hand with a large sympathy onRenshaw's shoulder; "but we'll drop that just now. We won't swap hossesin the middle of the river. We'll square up accounts in your room," headded, raising his voice that Rosey might overhear him, after apreliminary wink at the young man. "Yes, sir, we'll just square up andsettle in there. Come along, Mr. Renshaw." Pushing him with paternalgentleness from the cabin, with his hand still upon his shoulder, hefollowed him into the passage. Half annoyed at his familiarity, yet notaltogether displeased by this illustration of Rosey's belief of hispreference, Renshaw wonderingly accompanied him. Nott closed the door,and pushing the young man into a chair, deliberately seated himself atthe table opposite. "It's jist as well that Rosey reckons that you andme is settlin' our accounts," he began, cunningly, "and mebbee it'sjust ez well ez she should reckon you're goin' away."

  "But I _am_ going," interrupted Renshaw, impatiently. "I leaveto-night."

  "Surely, surely," said Nott, gently, "that's wot you kalkilate to do;that's just nat'ral in a young feller. That's about what I reckon _I'd_hev done to her mother if anythin' like this hed ever cropped up, whichit didn't. Not but what Almiry Jane had young fellers enough round her,but, 'cept ole Judge Peter, ez was lamed in the War of 1812, thereain't no similarity ez I kin see," he added, musingly.

  "I am afraid I can't see any similarity either, Mr. Nott," saidRenshaw, struggling between a dawning sense of some impending absurdityand his growing passion for Rosey. "For Heaven's sake, speak out ifyou've got anything to say."

  Mr. Nott leaned forward and placed his large hand on the young man'sshoulder. "That's it. That's what I sed to myself when I seed howthings were pintin'. 'Speak out,' sez I, 'Abner! Speak out if you'vegot anything to say. You kin trust this yer Mr. Renshaw. He ain't thekind of man to creep into the bosom of a man's ship for pupposes of hisown. He ain't a man that would hunt round until he discovered a poorman's treasure, and then try to rob'"--

  "Stop!" said Renshaw, with a set face and darkening eyes. "_What_treasure? _what_ man are you speaking of?"

  "Why Rosey and Mr. Ferrers," returned Nott, simply.

  Renshaw sank into his seat again. But the expression of relief whichhere passed swiftly over his face gave way to one of uneasy interest asNott went on.

  "P'r'aps it's a little high-falutin' talkin' of Rosey ez a treasure.But, considerin', Mr. Renshaw, ez she's the only prop'ty I've kept byme for seventeen years ez hez paid interest and increased in valoo, itain't sayin' too much to call her so. And ez Ferrers knows this, heoughter been content with gougin' me in that horse-hair spec, withoutgoin' for Rosey. P'r'aps yer surprised at hearing me speak o' my ownflesh and blood ez if I was talkin' hoss-trade, but you and me isbus'ness men, Mr. Renshaw, and we discusses ez such. We ain't goin' toslosh round and slop over in po'try and sentiment," continued Nott,with a tremulous voice, and a hand that slightly shook on Renshaw'sshoulder. "We ain't goin' to git up and sing, 'Thou 'st lamed to loveanother thou 'st broken every vow we've parted from each other and mybozom's lonely now oh is it well to sever such hearts as ourn foreverkin I forget thee never farewell farewell farewell.' Ye never happen'dto hear Jim Baker sing that at the moosic hall on Dupont Street, Mr.Renshaw," continued Mr. Nott, enthusiastically, when he had recoveredfrom that complete absence of punctuation which alone suggested verseto his intellect. "He sorter struck water down here," indicating hisheart, "every time."

  "But what has Miss Nott to do with M. de Ferrieres?" asked Renshaw,with a faint smile.

  Mr. Nott regarded him with, dumb, round, astonished eyes. "Hezn't shetold yer?"

  "Certainly not."

  "And she didn't let on anythin' about him?" he continued, feebly.

  "She said she'd like to know where"--He stopped, with the reflectionthat he was betraying her confidences.

  A dim foreboding of some new form of deceit, to which even the manbefore him was a consenting party, almost paralyzed Nott's faculties."Then she didn't tell yer that she and Ferrers was sparkin' and keepin'kimpany together; that she and him was engaged, and was kalkilatin' torun away to furrin parts; that she cottoned to him more than to theship or her father?"

  "She certainly did not, and I shouldn't believe it," said Renshaw,quickly.

  Nott smiled. He was amused; he astutely recognized the usualtrustfulness of love and youth. There was clearly no deceit here!Renshaw's attentive eyes saw the smile, and his brow darkened.

  "I like to hear yer say that, Mr. Renshaw," said Nott, "and it's nomore than Rosey deserves, ez it's suthing onnat'ral and spell-likethat's come over her through Ferrers. It ain't my Rosey. But it'sGospel truth, whether she's bewitched or not; whether it's them damnfool stories she reads--and it's like ez not he's just the kind o'snipe to write 'em hisself, and sorter advertise hisself, don't yersee--she's allus stuck up for Lim. They've had clandesent interviews,and when I taxed him with it he ez much ez allowed it was so, andreckoned he must leave, so ez he could run her off, you know--kinderstampede her with 'honor.' Them's his very words."

  "But that is all past; he is gone, and Miss Nott does not even knowwhere he is!" said Renshaw, with a laugh, which, however, concealed avague uneasiness.

  Mr. Nott rose and opened the door carefully. When he had satisfiedhimself that no one was listening, he came back and said in a whisper,"That's a lie. Not ez Rosey means to lie, but it's a trick he's putupon that poor child. That man, Mr. Renshaw, hez been hangin' round thePontiac ever since. I've seed him twice with my own eyes pass the cabinwindys. More than that, I've heard strange noises at night, and seenstrange faces in the alley over yer. And only jist now ez I kem in Iketched sight of a furrin-lookin' Chinee nigger slinking round the backdoor of what useter be Ferrers' loft."

  "Did he look like a sailor?" asked Renshaw quickly, with a return ofhis former suspicion.

  "Not more than I do," said Nott, glancing complacently at hispea-jacket. "He had rings on his yeers like a wench."

  Mr. Renshaw started. But seeing Nott's eyes fixed on him, he saidlightly, "But what have these strange faces and this strangeman--probably only a Lascar sailor out of a job--to do with Ferrieres?"

  "Friends o' his--feller furrin citizens--spies on Rosey, don't you see?But they can't play the old man, Mr. Renshaw. I've told Rosey she mustmake a visit to the old Ranch. Once I've got her thar safe, I reckon Ikin manage Mr. Ferrers and any number of Chinee niggers he kin bringalong."

  Renshaw remained for a few moments lost in thought. Then risingsuddenly, he grasped Mr. Nott's hand with a frank smile but determinedeyes. "I haven't got the hang of this, Mr. Nott--the whole thing getsme! I only know that I've changed my mind. I'm _not_ going toSacramento. I shall stay _here_, old man, until I see you safe throughthe business, or my name's not Dick Renshaw. There's my hand on it!Don't say a word. Maybe it is no more than I ought to do--perhaps nothalf enough. Only remember, not a word of this to your daughter. Shemust believe that I leave to-night. And the sooner you get her out ofthis cursed ship the better."

  "Deacon Flint's girls are goin' up in to-night's boat. I'll send Roseywith them," said Nott, with a cunning twinkle. Renshaw nodded. Nottseized his hand with a wink of unutterable significance.

  Left to himself, Renshaw tried to review more calmly the circumstancesin these strange revelations that had impelled him to change hisresolution so
suddenly. That the ship was under the surveillance ofunknown parties, and that the description of them tallied with his ownknowledge of a certain Lascar sailor, who was one of Sleight'sinformants--seemed to be more than probable. That this seemed to pointto Sleight's disloyalty to himself while he was acting as his agent, ora double treachery on the part of Sleight's informants, was in eithercase a reason and an excuse for his own interference. But theconnection of the absurd Frenchman with the case, which at first seemeda characteristic imbecility of his landlord, bewildered him the more hethought of it. Rejecting any hypothesis of the girl's affection for theantiquated figure whose sanity was a question of public criticism, hewas forced to the equally alarming theory that Ferrieres was cognizantof the treasure, and that his attentions to Rosey were to gainpossession of it by marrying her. Might she not be dazzled by a pictureof this wealth? Was it not possible that she was already in partpossession of the secret, and her strange attraction to the ship, andwhat he had deemed her innocent craving for information concerning it,a consequence? Why had he not thought of this before? Perhaps she haddetected his purpose from the first, and had deliberately checkmatedhim. The thought did not increase his complacency as Nott softlyreturned:

  "It's all right," he began with a certain satisfaction in this rareopportunity for Machiavellian diplomacy, "it's all fixed now. Roseytumbled to it at once, partiklerly when I said you was bound to go.'But wot makes Mr. Renshaw go, father,' sez she; 'wot makes everybodyrun away from the ship?' sez she, rather peart-like and sassy for her.'Mr. Renshaw hez contractin' business,' sez I; 'got a big thing up inSacramento that'll make his fortun','sez I--for I wasn't goin' to giveyer away, don't ye see?' He had some business to talk to you about theship,' sez she, lookin' at me under the corner of herpocket-handkerchief. 'Lots o' business,' sez I. 'Then I reckon he don'tcare to hev me write to him,' sez she. 'Not a bit,' sez I; 'he wouldn'tanswer ye if ye did. Ye'll never hear from that chap agin.'"

  "But what the devil"--interrupted the young man impetuously.

  "Keep yer hair on!" remonstrated the old man with dark intelligence."Ef you'd seen the way she flounced into her state-room!--she, Rosey,ez allus moves ez softly ez a spirit--you'd hev wished I'd hev unloadeda little more. No sir, gals is gals in some things all the time."

  Renshaw rose and paced the room rapidly. "Perhaps I'd better speak toher again before she goes," he said, impulsively.

  "P'r'aps you'd better not," replied the imperturbable Nott.

  Irritated as he was, Renshaw could not avoid the reflection that theold man was right. What, indeed, could he say to her with his presentimperfect knowledge? How could she write to him if that knowledge wascorrect?

  "Ef," said Nott, kindly, with a laying on of large benedictory andpaternal hands, "ef ye're willin' to see Rosey agin, without _speakin_?to her, I reckon I ken fix it for yer. I'm goin' to take her down tothe boat in half an hour. Ef yer should happen--mind, ef yer should_happen_ to be down there, seein' some friends off and sorterpromenadin' up and down the wharf like them high-toned chaps onMontgomery Street--ye might ketch her eye unconscious like. Or, yemight do this!" He rose after a moment's cogitation and with a face ofprofound mystery opened the door and beckoned Renshaw to follow him.Leading the way cautiously, he brought the young man into an openunpartitioned recess beside her state-room. It seemed to be used as astore-room, and Renshaw's eye was caught by a trunk the size and shapeof the one that had provided Rosey with the materials of hermasquerade. Pointing to it, Mr. Nott said in a grave whisper: "This yertrunk is the companion trunk to Rosey's. _She's_ got the things themopery women wears; this yer contains the _he_ things, the duds andfixins o' the men o' the same stripe." Throwing it open he continued:"Now, Mr, Renshaw, gals is gals; it's nat'ral they should be took byfancy dress and store clothes on young chaps as on theirselves. Thatman Ferrers hez got the dead wood on all of ye in this sort of thing,and hez been playing, so to speak, a lone hand all along. And ef thar'sanythin' in thar," he added, lifting part of a theatrical wardrobe,"that you think you'd fancy--anythin' you'd like to put on when yepromenade the wharf down yonder--it's yours. Don't ye be bashful, buthelp yourself."

  It was fully a minute before Renshaw fairly grasped the old man'smeaning. But when he did--when the suggested spectacle of himselfarrayed _a la_ Ferrieres, gravely promenading the wharf as a lastgorgeous appeal to the affections of Rosey, rose before his fancy, hegave way to a fit of genuine laughter. The nervous tension of the pastfew hours relaxed; he laughed until the tears came into his eyes; hewas still laughing when the door of the cabin suddenly opened and Roseyappeared cold and distant on the threshold.

  "I--beg your pardon," stammered Renshaw hastily. "I didn't mean--todisturb you--I"--

  Without looking at him Rosey turned to her father. "I am ready," shesaid coldly, and closed the door again.

  A glance of artful intelligence came into Nott's eyes, which hadremained blankly staring at Renshaw's apparently causeless hilarity.Turning to him he winked solemnly. "That keerless kind o' hoss-laffjist fetched her," he whispered, and vanished before his chagrinedcompanion could reply.

  When Mr. Nott and his daughter departed, Renshaw was not in the ship,neither did he make a spectacular appearance on the wharf as Mr. Notthad fondly expected, nor did he turn up again until after nine o'clock,when he found the old man in the cabin awaiting his return with someagitation. "A minit ago," he said, mysteriously closing the door behindRenshaw, "I heard a voice in the passage, and goin' out, who should Isee agin but that darned furrin nigger ez I told yer 'bout, kinderhidin' in the dark, his eyes shinin' like a catamount. I was jistreachin' for my weppins when he riz up with a grin and handed me thisyer letter. I told him I reckoned you'd gone to Sacramento, but he saidhe wez sure you was in your room, and to prove it I went thar. But whenI kem back the d----d skunk had vamosed--got frightened I reckon--andwasn't nowhar to be seen."

  Renshaw took the letter hastily. It contained only a line in Sleight'shand. "If you change your mind, the bearer may be of service to you."

  He turned abruptly to Nott. "You say it was the same Lascar you sawbefore?"

  "It was."

  "Then all I can say is, he is no agent of De Ferrieres'," said Renshaw,turning away with a disappointed air. Mr. Nott would have asked anotherquestion, but with an abrupt "Good-night" the young man entered hisroom, locked the door, and threw himself on his bed to reflect withoutinterruption.

  But if he was in no mood to stand Nott's fatuous conjectures, he wasless inclined to be satisfied with his own. Had he been again carriedaway through his impulses evoked by the caprices of a pretty coquetteand the absurd theories of her half imbecile father? Had he brokenfaith with Sleight and remained in the ship for nothing, and would nothis change of resolution appear to be the result of Sleight's note? Butwhy had the Lascar been haunting the ship before? In the midst of theseconjectures he fell asleep.

  VII.

  Between three and four in the morning the clouds broke over thePontiac, and the moon, riding high, picked out in black and silver thelong hulk that lay cradled between the iron shells and warehouses andthe wooden frames and tenements on either side. The galley and coveredgangway presented a mass of undefined shadow, against which the whitedeck shone brightly, stretching to the forecastle and bows, where thetiny glass roof of the photographer glistened like a gem in thePontiac's crest. So peaceful and motionless she lay that she might havebeen some petrifaction of a past age now first exhumed and laid bare tothe cold light of the stars.

  Nevertheless, this calm security was presently invaded by a sense ofstealthy life and motion. What had seemed a fixed shadow suddenlydetached itself from the deck and began to slip stanchion by stanchionalong the bulwarks toward the companion-way. At the cabin-door ithalted and crouched motionless. Then rising, it glided forward with thesame staccato movement until opposite the slight elevation of theforehatch. Suddenly it darted to the hatch, unfastened and lifted itwith a swift, familiar dexterity, and disappeared in the opening. Butas the moon shone upon it
s vanishing face, it revealed the whiteningeyes and teeth of the Lascar seaman.

  Dropping to the lower deck lightly, he felt his way through the darkpassage between the partitions, evidently less familiar to him, haltingbefore each door to listen.

  Returning forward he reached the second hatchway that had attractedRosey's attention, and noiselessly unclosed its fastenings. Apenetrating smell of bilge arose from the opening. Drawing a smallbull's-eye lantern from his breast he lit it, and unhesitatingly lethimself down to the further depth. The moving flash of his lightrevealed the recesses of the upper hold, the abyss of the wellamidships, and glanced from the shining backs of moving zigzags of ratsthat seemed to outline the shadowy beams and transoms. Disregardingthose curious spectators of his movements, he turned his attentioneagerly to the inner casings of the hold, that seemed in one spot tohave been strengthened by fresh timbers. Attacking this stealthily withthe aid of some tools hidden in his oil-skin clothing, in the light ofthe lantern he bore a fanciful resemblance to the predatory animalsaround him. The low continuous sound of rasping and gnawing of timberwhich followed heightened the resemblance. At the end of a few minuteshe had succeeded in removing enough of the outer planking to show thatthe entire filling of the casing between the stanchions was composed ofsmall boxes. Dragging out one of them with feverish eagerness to thelight, the Lascar forced it open. In the rays of the bull's-eye, awedged mass of discolored coins showed with a lurid glow. The story ofthe Pontiac was true--the treasure was there!

  But Mr. Sleight had overlooked the logical effect of this discovery onthe natural villainy of his tool. In the very moment of his triumphantexecution of his patron's suggestions the idea of keeping the treasureto himself flashed upon his mind. _He_ had discovered it--why should hegive it up to anybody? _He_ had run all the risks; if he were detectedat that moment, who would believe that his purpose there at midnightwas only to satisfy some one else that the treasure was still intact?No. The circumstances were propitious; he would get the treasure out ofthe ship at once, drop it over her side, hastily conceal it in thenearest lot adjacent, and take it away at his convenience. Who would bethe wiser for it?

  But it was necessary to reconnoiter first. He knew that the loftoverhead was empty. He knew that it communicated with the alley, for hehad tried the door that morning. He would convey the treasure there anddrop it into the alley. The boxes were heavy. Each one would require aseparate journey to the ship's side, but he would at least securesomething if he were interrupted, He stripped the casing, and gatheredthe boxes together in a pile.

  Ah, yes, it was funny too that he--the Lascar hound--the d----dnigger--should get what bigger and bullier men than he had died for!The mate's blood was on those boxes, if the salt water had not washedit out. It was a hell of a fight when they dragged the captain--Oh,what was that? Was it the splash of a rat in the bilge, or what?

  A superstitious terror had begun to seize him at the thought of blood.The stifling hold seemed again filled with struggling figures he hadknown, the air thick with cries and blasphemies that he had forgotten.He rose to his feet, and running quickly to the hatchway, leaped to thedeck above. All was quiet. The door leading to the empty loft yieldedto his touch. He entered, and, gliding through, unbarred and opened thedoor that gave upon the alley. The cold air and moonlight flowed insilently; the way of escape was clear. Bah! He would go back for thetreasure.

  He had reached the passage when the door he had just opened wassuddenly darkened. Turning rapidly, he was conscious of a gaunt figure,grotesque, silent, and erect, looming on the threshold between him andthe sky. Hidden in the shadow, he made a stealthy step towards it, withan iron wrench in his uplifted hand. But the next moment his eyesdilated with superstitious horror; the iron fell from his hand, andwith a scream, like a frightened animal, he turned and fled into thepassage. In the first access of his blind terror he tried to reach thedeck above through the forehatch, but was stopped by the sound of aheavy tread overhead. The immediate fear of detection now overcame hissuperstition; he would have even faced the apparition again to escapethrough the loft; but, before he could return there, other footstepsapproached rapidly from the end of the passage he would have totraverse. There was but one chance of escape left now--the forehold hehad just quitted. He might hide there until the alarm was over. Heglided back to the hatch, lifted it, and closed it softly over his headas the upper hatch was simultaneously raised, and the small round eyesof Abner Nott peered down upon it. The other footsteps proved to beRenshaw's, but, attracted by the open door of the loft, he turned asideand entered. As soon as he disappeared Mr. Nott cautiously droppedthrough the opening to the deck below, and, going to the other hatchthrough which the Lascar had vanished, deliberately refastened it. In afew moments Renshaw returned with a light, and found the old mansitting on the hatch.

  "The loft-door was open," said Renshaw. "There's little doubt whoeverwas here escaped that way."

  "Surely," said Nott. There was a peculiar look of Machiavelliansagacity in his face which irritated Renshaw.

  "Then you're sure it was Ferriferes you saw pass by your window beforeyou called me?" he asked.

  Nott nodded his head with an expression of infinite profundity.

  "But you say he was going _from_ the ship. Then it could not have beenhe who made the noise we heard down here."

  "Mebbee no, and mebbee yes," returned Nott, cautiously.

  "But if he was already concealed inside the ship, as that open door,which you say you barred from the inside, would indicate, what thedevil did he want with this?" said Renshaw, producing themonkey--wrench he had picked up.

  Mr. Nott examined the tool carefully, and shook his head with momentoussignificance. Nevertheless, his eyes wandered to the hatch on which hewas seated.

  "Did you find anything disturbed _there_?" said Renshaw, following thedirection of his eye. "Was that hatch fastened as it is now?"

  "It was," said Nott, calmly. "But ye wouldn't mind fetchin' me a hammerand some o' them big nails from the locker, would yer, while I hanground here just so ez to make sure against another attack."

  Renshaw complied with his request; but as Nott proceeded to gravelynail down the fastenings of the hatch, he turned impatiently away tocomplete his examination of the ship. The doors of the other lofts andtheir fastenings appeared secure and undisturbed. Yet it was undeniablethat a felonious entrance had been made, but by whom or for whatpurpose, still remained uncertain. Even now, Renshaw found it difficultto accept Nott's theory that De Ferrieres was the aggressor and Roseythe object, nor could he justify his own suspicion that the Lascar hadobtained a surreptitious entrance under Sleight's directions. With afeeling that if Rosey had been present he would have confessed all, anddemanded from her an equal confidence, he began to hate his feeble,purposeless, and inefficient alliance with her father, who believed butdared not tax his daughter with complicity in this outrage. What couldbe done with a man whose only idea of action at such a moment was tonail up an undisturbed entrance in his invaded house! He was sopreoccupied with these thoughts that when Nott rejoined him in thecabin he scarcely heeded his presence, and was entirely oblivious ofthe furtive looks which the old man from time to time cast upon hisface.

  "I reckon ye wouldn't mind," broke in Nott, suddenly, "ef I asked afavor of ye, Mr. Renshaw. Mebbee ye'll allow it's askin' too much inthe matter of expense; mebbee ye'll allow it's askin' too much in thematter o' time. But _I_ kalkilate to pay all the expense, and if you'dlet me know what yer vally yer time at, I reckon I could stand that.What I'd be askin' is this. Would ye mind takin' a letter from me toRosey, and bringin' back an answer?"

  Renshaw stared speechlessly at this absurd realization of his wish of amoment before. "I don't think I understand you," he stammered.

  "P'r'aps not," returned Nott, with great gravity. "But that's not somuch matter to you ez your time and expenses."

  "I meant I should be glad to go if I can be of any service to you,"said Renshaw, hastily.

  "You kin ketch t
he seven-o'clock boat this morning, and you'll reachSan Rafael at ten"--

  "But I thought Miss Rosey went to Petaluma," interrupted Renshawquickly.

  Nott regarded him with an expression of patronizing superiority."That's what we ladled out to the public gin'rally, and to Ferrers andhis gang in partickler. We _said_ Petalumey, but if you go to MadronoCottage, San Rafael, you'll find Rosey thar."

  If Mr. Renshaw required anything more to convince him of the necessityof coming to some understanding with Rosey at once it would have beenthis last evidence of her father's utterly dark and supremelyinscrutable designs. He assented quickly, and Nott handed him a note.

  "Ye'll be partickler to give this inter her own hands, and wait for ananswer," said Nott gravely.

  Resisting the proposition to enter then and there into an elaboratecalculation of the value of his time and the expenses of the trip,Renshaw found himself at seven o'clock on the San Rafael boat. Brief aswas the journey it gave him time to reflect upon his coming interviewwith Rosey. He had resolved to begin by confessing all; the attempt oflast night had released him from any sense of duty to Sleight. Besides,he did not doubt that Nott's letter contained some reference to thisaffair only known to Nott's dark and tortuous intelligence.

  VIII.

  Madrono Cottage lay at the entrance of a little _canada_ already greenwith the early winter rains, and nestled in a thicket of the harlequinpainted trees that gave it a name. The young man was a little relievedto find that Rosey had gone to the post-office a mile away, and that hewould probably overtake her or meet her returning--alone. Theroad--little more than a trail--wound along the crest of the hilllooking across the _canada_ to the long, dark, heavily-wooded flank ofMount Tamalpais that rose from the valley a dozen miles away. Acessation of the warm rain, a rift in the sky, and the rare spectacleof cloud scenery, combined with a certain sense of freedom, restoredthat light-hearted gayety that became him most. At a sudden turn of theroad he caught sight of Rosey's figure coming towards him, andquickened his step with the impulsiveness of a boy. But she suddenlydisappeared, and when he again saw her she was on the other side of thetrail apparently picking the leaves of a manzanita. She had alreadyseen him.

  Somehow the frankness of his greeting was checked. She looked up at himwith cheeks that retained enough of their color to suggest why she hadhesitated, and said, "_You_ here, Mr. Renshaw? I thought you were inSacramento."

  "And I thought _you_ were in Petaluma," he retorted gayly. "I have aletter from your father. The fact is, one of those gentlemen who hasbeen haunting the ship actually made an entry last night. Who he was,and what he came for, nobody knows. Perhaps your father gives you hissuspicions." He could not help looking at her narrowly as he handed herthe note. Except that her pretty eyebrows were slightly raised incuriosity she seemed undisturbed as she opened the letter. Presentlyshe raised her eyes to his.

  "Is this all father gave you?"

  "All."

  "You're sure you haven't dropped anything?"

  "Nothing. I have given you all he gave me."

  "And that is all it is." She exhibited the missive, a perfectly blanksheet of paper folded like a note!

  Renshaw felt the angry blood glow in his cheeks. "This is unpardonable!I assure you, Miss Nott, there must be some mistake. He himself hasprobably forgotten the inclosure," he continued, yet with an inwardconviction that the act was perfectly premeditated on the part of theold man.

  The young girl held out her hand frankly. "Don't think any more of it,Mr. Renshaw. Father is forgetful at times. But tell me about lastnight."

  In a few words Mr. Renshaw briefly but plainly related the details ofthe attempt upon the Pontiac, from the moment that he had been awakenedby Nott, to his discovery of the unknown trespasser's flight by theopen door to the loft. When he had finished, he hesitated, and thentaking Rosey's hand, said impulsively, "You will not be angry with meif I tell you all? Your father firmly believes that the attempt wasmade by the old Frenchman, De Ferrieres, with a view of carrying youoff."

  A dozen reasons other than the one her father would have attributed itto might have called the blood to her face. But only innocence couldhave brought the look of astonished indignation to her eyes as sheanswered quickly:

  "So _that_ was what you were laughing at?"

  "Not that, Miss Nott," said the young man eagerly; "though I wish toGod I could accuse myself of nothing more disloyal. Do not speak, Ibeg," he added impatiently, as Rosey was about to reply. "I have noright to hear you; I have no right to even stand in your presence untilI have confessed everything. I came to the Pontiac; I made youracquaintance, Miss Nott, through a fraud as wicked as anything yourfather charges to De Ferrieres. I am not a contractor. I never was anhonest lodger in the Pontiac. I was simply a spy."

  "But you didn't mean to be--it was some mistake, wasn't it?" saidRosey, quite white, but more from sympathy with the offender's emotionthan horror at the offense.

  "I am afraid I did mean it. But bear with me for a few moments longerand you shall know all. It's a long story. Will you walk on, and--takemy arm? You do not shrink from me, Miss Nott. Thank you. I scarcelydeserve the kindness."

  Indeed so little did Rosey shrink that he was conscious of a slightreassuring pressure on his arm as they moved forward, and for themoment I fear the young man felt like exaggerating his offense for thesake of proportionate sympathy. "Do you remember," he continued, "oneevening when I told you some sea tales, you said you always thoughtthere must be some story about the Pontiac? There _was_ a story of thePontiac, Miss Nott--a wicked story--a terrible story--which I mighthave told you, which I _ought_ to have told you--which was the storythat brought me there. You were right, too, in saying that you thoughtI had known the Pontiac before I stepped first on her deck that day. Ihad."

  He laid his disengaged hand across lightly on Rosey's, as if to assurehimself that she was listening.

  "I was at that time a sailor. I had been fool enough to run away fromcollege, thinking it a fine romantic thing to ship before the mast fora voyage round the world. I was a little disappointed, perhaps, but Imade the best of it, and in two years I was the second mate of a whalerlying in a little harbor of one of the uncivilized islands of thePacific. While we were at anchor there a French trading vessel put in,apparently for water. She had the dregs of a mixed crew of Lascars andPortuguese, who said they had lost the rest of their men by desertion,and that the captain and mate had been carried off by fever. There wassomething so queer in their story that our skipper took the law in hisown hands, and put me on board of her with a salvage crew. But thatnight the French crew mutinied, cut the cables, and would have got tosea if we had not been armed and prepared, and managed to drive thembelow. When we had got them under hatches for a few hours theyparleyed, and offered to go quietly ashore. As we were short of handsand unable to take them with us, and as we had no evidence againstthem, we let them go, took the ship to Callao, turned her over to theauthorities, lodged a claim for salvage, and continued our voyage. Whenwe returned we found the truth of the story was known. She had been aFrench trader from Marseilles, owned by her captain; her crew hadmutinied in the Pacific, killed their officers and the onlypassenger--the owner of the cargo. They had made away with the cargoand a treasure of nearly half a million of Spanish gold for tradingpurposes which belonged to the passenger. In course of time the shipwas sold for salvage and put into the South American trade until thebreaking out of the Californian gold excitement, when she was sent witha cargo to San Francisco. That ship was the Pontiac which your fatherbought."

  A slight shudder ran through the girl's frame. "I wish--I wish youhadn't told me," she said. I shall never close my eyes againcomfortably on board of her, I know."

  "I would say that you had purified her of _all_ stains of her past--butthere may be one that remains. And _that_ in most people's eyes wouldbe no detraction. You look puzzled, Miss Nott--but I am coming to theexplanation and the end of my story. A ship of war was sent to theisland to punish the mut
ineers and pirates, for such they were, butthey could not be found. A private expedition was sent to discover thetreasure which they were supposed to have buried, but in vain. Abouttwo months ago Mr. Sleight told me one of his shipmasters had sent hima Lascar sailor who had to dispose of a valuable secret regarding thePontiac for a percentage. That secret was that the treasure was nevertaken by the mutineers out of the Pontiac! They were about to land andbury it when we boarded them. They took advantage of their imprisonmentunder hatches _to bury it in the ship_. They hid it in the hold sosecurely and safely that it was never detected by us or the Callaoauthorities. I was then asked, as one who knew the vessel, to undertakea private examination of her, with a view of purchasing her from yourfather without awakening his suspicions. I assented. You have myconfession now, Miss Nott. You know my crime. I am at your mercy."

  Rosey's arm only tightened around his own. Her eyes sought his. "Andyou didn't find anything?" she said.

  The question sounded so oddly like Sleight's, that Renshaw returned alittle stiffly:

  "I didn't look."

  "Why?" asked Rosey simply.

  "Because," stammered Renshaw, with an uneasy consciousness of havingexaggerated his sentiment, "it didn't seem honorable; it didn't seemfair to you."

  "Oh you silly! you might have looked and told _me_."

  "But," said Renshaw, "do you think that would have been fair toSleight?"

  "As fair to him as to us. For, don't you see, it wouldn't belong to anyof us. It would belong to the friends or the family of the man who lostit."

  "But there were no heirs," replied Renshaw. "That was proved by someimpostor who pretended to be his brother, and libelled the Pontiac atCallao, but the courts decided he was a lunatic."

  "Then it belongs to the poor pirates who risked their own lives for it,rather than to Sleight, who did nothing." She was silent for a moment,and then resumed with energy, "I believe he was at the bottom of thatattack last night."

  "I have thought so too," said Renshaw.

  "Then I must go back at once," she continued, impulsively. "Father mustnot be left alone."

  "Nor _must you_," said Renshaw, quickly. "Do let me return with you,and share with you and your father the trouble I have brought upon you.Do not," he added in a lower tone, "deprive me of the only chance ofexpiating my offense, of making myself worthy your forgiveness."

  "I am sure," said Rosey, lowering her lids and half withdrawing herarm, "I am sure I have nothing to forgive. You did not believe thetreasure belonged to us any more than to anybody else, until you knew_me_"--

  "That is true," said the young man, attempting to take her hand.

  "I mean," said Rosey, blushing, and showing a distracting row of littleteeth in one of her infrequent laughs, "oh, you know what I mean." Shewithdrew her arm gently, and became interested in the selection ofcertain wayside bay leaves as they passed along. "All the same, I don'tbelieve in this treasure," she said abruptly, as if to change thesubject. "I don't believe it ever was hidden inside the Pontiac."

  "That can be easily ascertained now," said Renshaw.

  "But it's a pity you didn't find it out while you were about it," saidRosey. "It would have saved so much talk and trouble."

  "I have told you why I didn't search the ship," responded Renshaw, witha slight bitterness. "But it seems I could only avoid being a greatrascal by becoming a great fool."

  "You never intended to be a rascal," said Rosey, earnestly, "and youcouldn't be a fool, except in heeding what a silly girl says. I onlymeant if you had taken me into your confidence it would have beenbetter."

  "Might I not say the same to you regarding your friend, the oldFrenchman?" returned Renshaw. "What if I were to confess to you that Ilately suspected him of knowing the secret, and of trying to gain yourassistance?"

  Instead of indignantly repudiating the suggestion, to the young man'sgreat discomfiture, Rosey only knit her pretty brows, and remained forsome moments silent. Presently she asked timidly:

  "Do you think it wrong to tell another person's secret for their owngood?"

  "No," said Renshaw, promptly.

  "Then I'll tell you Monsieur de Ferrieres'! But only because I believefrom what you have just said that he will turn out to have some rightto the treasure."

  Then with kindling eyes, and a voice eloquent with sympathy, Rosey toldthe story of her accidental discovery of De Ferrieres' miserableexistence in the loft. Clothing it with the unconscious poetry of herfresh, young imagination, she lightly passed over his antique gallantryand grotesque weakness, exalting only his lonely sufferings andmysterious wrongs. Renshaw listened, lost between shame for his latesuspicions and admiration for her thoughtful delicacy, until she beganto speak of De Ferrieres' strange allusions to the foreign papers inhis portmanteau. "I think some were law papers, and I am almost certainI saw the word Callao printed on one of them."

  "It may be so," said Renshaw, thoughtfully. "The old Frenchman hasalways passed for a harmless, wandering eccentric. I hardly thinkpublic curiosity has ever even sought to know his name, much less hishistory. But had we not better first try to find if there _is_ anyproperty before we examine his claims to it?"

  "As you please," said Rosey, with a slight pout; "but you will find itmuch easier to discover him than his treasure. It's always easier tofind the thing you're not looking for."

  "Until you want it," said Renshaw, with sudden gravity.

  "How pretty it looks over there," said Rosey, turning her consciouseyes to the opposite mountain.

  "Very."

  They had reached the top of the hill, and in the near distance thechimney of Madrono Cottage was even now visible. At the expected sightthey unconsciously stopped--unconsciously disappointed. Rosey broke theembarrassing silence.

  "There's another way home, but it's a roundabout way," she saidtimidly.

  "Let us take it," said Renshaw.

  She hesitated. "The boat goes at four, and we must return to-night."

  "The more reason why we should make the most of our time now," saidRenshaw with a faint smile. "To-morrow all things may be changed;to-morrow you may find yourself an heiress, Miss Nott. To-morrow," headded, with a slight tremor in his voice, "I may have earned yourforgiveness, only to say farewell to you forever. Let me keep thissunshine, this picture, this companionship with you long enough to saynow what perhaps I must not say to-morrow."

  They were silent for a moment, and then by a common instinct turnedtogether into a narrow trail, scarce wide enough for two, that divergedfrom the straight practical path before them. It was indeed aroundabout way home, so roundabout, in fact, that as they wandered onit seemed even to double on its track, occasionally lingering long andbecoming indistinct under the shadow of madrono and willow; at one timestopping blindly before a fallen tree in the hollow, where they hadquite lost it, and had to sit down to recall it; a rough way, oftenrequiring the mutual help of each other's hands and eyes to treadtogether in security; an uncertain way, not to be found Withoutwhispered consultation and concession, and yet a way eventuallybringing them hand in hand, happy and hopeful, to the gate of MadronoCottage. And if there was only just time for Rosey to prepare to takethe boat, it was due to the deviousness of the way. If a stray curl waslying loose on Rosey's cheek, and a long hair had caught in Renshaw'sbutton, it was owing to the roughness of the way; and if in the tonesof their voices and in the glances of their eyes there was a maturerseriousness, it was due to the dim uncertainty of the path they hadtraveled, and would hereafter tread together.

  IX.

  When Mr. Nott had satisfied himself of Renshaw's departure, he coollybolted the door at the head of the companion-way, thus cutting off anycommunication with the lower deck. Taking a long rifle from the rackabove his berth, he carefully examined the hammer and cap, and thencautiously let himself down through the forehatch to the deck below.After a deliberate survey of the still intact fastenings of the hatchover the forehold, he proceeded quietly to unloose them again with theaid of the tools that still lay
there. When the hatch was once morefree he lifted it, and, withdrawing a few feet from the opening, sathimself down, rifle in hand. A profound silence reigned throughout thelower deck.

  "Ye kin rize up out o' that," said Nott gently.

  There was a stealthy rustle below that seemed to approach the hatch,and then with a sudden bound the Lascar leaped on the deck. But at thesame instant Nott covered him with his rifle. A slight shade ofdisappointment and surprise had crossed the old man's face, and cloudedhis small round eyes at the apparition of the Lascar, but his hand wasnone the less firm upon the trigger as the frightened prisoner sank onhis knees, with his hands clasped in the attitude of supplication formercy.

  "Ef you're thinkin' o' skippin' afore I've done with yer," said Nottwith labored gentleness, "I oughter warn ye that it's my style to dropInjins at two hundred yards, and this deck ain't anywhere more 'nfifty. It's an uncomfortable style, a nasty style--but it's _my_ style.I thought I'd tell yer, so yer could take it easy where you air.Where's Ferrers?"

  Even in the man's insane terror, his utter bewilderment at the questionwas evident. "Ferrers?" he gasped; "don't know him, I swear to God,boss."

  "P'r'aps," said Nott, with infinite cunning, "yer don't know the man ezkem into the loft from the alley last night--p'r'aps yer didn't see anairy Frenchman with a dyed mustache, eh? I thought that would fetchye!" he continued, as the man started at the evidence that his visionof last night was a living man. "P'r'aps you and him didn't break intothis ship last night, jist to run off with my darter Rosey? P'r'aps yerdon't know Rosey, eh? P'r'aps yer don't know ez Ferrers wants to marryher, and hez been hangin' round yer ever since he left--eh?"

  Scarcely believing the evidence of his senses that the old man whosetreasure he had been trying to steal was utterly ignorant of his realoffense, and yet uncertain of the penalty of the other crime of whichhe was accused, the Lascar writhed his body and stammered vaguely,"Mercy! Mercy!"

  "Well," said Nott, cautiously, "ez I reckon the hide of a dead Chineenigger ain't any more vallyble than that of a dead Injin, I don't careef I let up on yer--seein' the cussedness ain't yours. But ef I let yeroff this once, you must take a message to Ferrers from me."

  "Let me off this time, boss, and I swear to God I will," said theLascar eagerly.

  "Ye kin say to Ferrers--let me see"--deliberated Nott, leaning on hisrifle with cautious reflection. "Ye kin say to Ferrers like this--sezyou, 'Ferrers,' sez you, 'the old man sez that afore you went away yousez to him, sez you, "I take my honor with me," sez you'--have you gotthat?" interrupted Nott suddenly.

  "Yes, boss."

  "'I take my honor with me,' sez you," repeated Nott slowly. "'Now,' sezyou--'the old man sez, sez he--tell Ferrers, sez he, that his honorhavin' run away agin, he sends it back to him, and ef he ever ketchesit around after this, he'll shoot it on sight.' Hev yer got that?"

  "Yes," stammered the bewildered captive.

  "Then git!"

  The Lascar sprang to his feet with the agility of a panther, leapedthrough the hatch above him, and disappeared over the bow of the shipwith an unhesitating directness that showed that every avenue of escapehad been already contemplated by him. Slipping lightly from thecutwater to the ground, he continued his flight, only stopping at theprivate office of Mr. Sleight.

  When Mr. Renshaw and Rosey Nott arrived on board the Pontiac thatevening, they were astonished to find the passage before the cabincompletely occupied with trunks and boxes, and the bulk of theirhousehold goods apparently in the process of removal. Mr. Nott, who wassuperintending the work of two Chinamen, betrayed not only no surpriseat the appearance of the young people, but not the remotest recognitionof their own bewilderment at his occupation.

  "Kalkilatin'," he remarked casually to his daughter, "you'd rather lookarter your fixins, Rosey; I've left 'em till the last. P'r'aps yer andMr. Renshaw wouldn't mind sittin' down on that locker until I'vestrapped this yer box."

  "But what does it all mean, father?" said Rosey, taking the old man bythe lappels of his pea-jacket, and slightly emphasizing her question."What in the name of goodness are you doing?"

  "Breakin' camp, Rosey dear, breakin' camp, jist ez we uster," repliedNott with cheerful philosophy. "Kinder like ole times, ain't it? Lord,Rosey," he continued, stopping and following up the reminiscence, withthe end of the rope in his hand as if it were a clue, "don't ye mindthat day we started outer Livermore Pass, and seed the hull o' theKaliforny coast stretchin' yonder--eh? But don't ye be skeered, Roseydear," he added quickly, as if in recognition of the alarm expressed inher face. "I ain't turning ye outer house and home; I've jist hiredthat 'ere Madrono Cottage from the Peters ontil we kin look round."

  "But you're not leaving the ship, father," continued Rosey,impetuously. "You haven't sold it to that man Sleight?"

  Mr. Nott rose and carefully closed the cabin-door. Then drawing a largewallet from his pocket, he said, "It's sing'lar ye should hev got thename right the first pop, ain't it, Rosey? but it's Sleight, sureenough, all the time. This yer check," he added, producing a paper fromthe depths of the wallet, "this yer check for 25,000 dollars is wot hepaid for it only two hours ago."

  "But," said Renshaw, springing to his feet furiously, "you're duped,swindled--betrayed!"

  "Young man," said Nott, throwing a certain dignity into his habitualgesture of placing his hands on Renshaw's shoulders, "I bought this yership five years ago jist ez she stood for 8,000 dollars. Kalkilatin'wot she cost me in repairs and taxes, and wot she brought me in sincethen, accordin' to my figgerin', I don't call a clear profit of 15,000dollars much of a swindle."

  "Tell him all," said Rosey, quickly, more alarmed at Renshaw'sdespairing face than at the news itself. "Tell him everything,Dick--Mr. Renshaw; it may not be too late."

  In a voice half choked with passionate indignation Renshaw hurriedlyrepeated the story of the hidden treasure, and the plot to rescue it,prompted frequently by Rosey's tenacious memory and assisted by herdeft and tactful explanations. But to their surprise the imperturbablecountenance of Abner Nott never altered; a slight moisture of kindlypaternal tolerance of their extravagance glistened in his little eyes,but nothing more.

  "Ef there was a part o' this ship, a plank or a bolt, ez I don't know,ez I hevn't touched with my own hand, and looked into with my own eyes,thar might be suthin' in that story. I don't let on to be a sailor like_you_, but ez I know the ship ez a boy knows his first boss, as a womanknows her first babby, I reckon thar ain't no treasure yer, onless itwas brought into the Pontiac last night by them chaps."

  "But are you mad? Sleight would not pay three times the value of theship to-day if he were not positive! And that positive knowledge wasgained last night by the villain who broke into the Pontiac--no doubtthe Lascar."

  "Surely," said Nott, meditatively. "The Lascar! There's suthin' inthat. That Lascar I fastened down in the hold last night unbeknownst toyou, Mr. Renshaw, and let him out again this morning ekallyunbeknownst."

  "And you let him carry his information to Sleight--without a word!"said Renshaw, with a sickening sense of Nott's utter fatuity.

  "I sent him back with a message to the man he kem from," said Nott,winking both his eyes at Renshaw significantly, and making signs behindhis daughter's back.

  Rosey, conscious of her lover's irritation, and more eager to soothehis impatience than from any faith in her suggestion, interfered. "Whynot examine the place where he was concealed? he may have left sometraces of his search."

  The two men looked at each other. "Seein' ez I've turned the Pontiacover to Sleight jist as it stands, I don't know ez it's 'zactly on thesquare," said Nott doubtfully.

  "You've a right to know at least _what_ you deliver to him,"interrupted Renshaw, brusquely. "Bring a lantern."

  Followed by Rosey, Renshaw and Nott hurriedly sought the lower deck andthe open hatch of the forehold. The two men leaped down first with thelantern, and then assisted Rosey to descend. Renshaw took a stepforward and uttered a cry.

  The rays of the la
ntern fell on the ship's side. The Lascar had, duringhis forced seclusion, put back the boxes of treasure and replaced theplanking, yet not so carefully but that the quick eye of Renshaw haddiscovered it. The next moment he had stripped away the planking again,and the hurriedly restored box which the Lascar had found fell to thedeck, scattering part of its ringing contents. Rosey turned pale;Renshaw's eyes flashed fire; only Abner Nott remained quiet andimpassive.

  "Are you satisfied you have been duped?" said Renshaw, passionately.

  To their surprise Mr. Nott stooped down, and picking up one of thecoins handed it gravely to Renshaw. "Would ye mind heftin' that 'erecoin in your hand--feelin' it, bitin' it, scrapin' it with a knife, andkinder seem' how it compares with other coins?"

  "What do you mean?" said Renshaw.

  "I mean that that yer coin--that _all_ the coins in this yer box, thatall the coins in them other boxes--and thar's forty on 'em--is all andevery one of 'em counterfeits!"

  The piece dropped unconsciously from Renshaw's hand, and strikinganother that lay on the deck gave out a dull, suspicious ring.

  "They waz counterfeits got up by them Dutch supercargo sharps fordealin' with the Injins and cannibals and South Sea heathens ez bowsdown to wood and stone. It satisfied them ez well ez them buttons yeputs in missionary boxes, I reckon, and, 'cepting ez freight, don'tcost nothin'. I found 'em tucked in the ribs o' the old Pontiac when Ibought her, and I nailed 'em up in thar lest they should fall intodishonest hands. It's a lucky thing, Mr. Renshaw, that they comes intothe honest fingers of a square man like Sleight--ain't it?"

  He turned his small, guileless eyes upon Renshaw with such child-likesimplicity that it checked the hysterical laugh that was rising to theyoung man's lips.

  "But did any one know of this but yourself?"

  "I reckon not. I once suspicioned that old Cap'en Bowers, who wasalways foolin' round the hold yer, must hev noticed the bulge in thecasin', but when he took to axin' questions I axed others--ye know mystyle, Rosey? Come."

  He led the way grimly back to the cabin, the young people following;but turning suddenly at the companion way he observed Renshaw's armaround the waist of his daughter. He said nothing until they hadreached the cabin, when he closed the door softly, and looking at themboth gently, said with infinite cunning:

  "Ef it is n't too late, Rosey, ye kin tell this young man ez how Iforgive him for havin' diskivered THE TREASURE of the Pontiac."

  * * * * *

  It was nearly eighteen months afterwards that Mr. Nott one morningentered the room of his son-in-law at Mandrono Cottage. Drawing himaside, he said with his old air of mystery, "Now ez Rosey's ailin' anddon't seem to be so eager to diskiver what's become of Mr. Ferrers, Idon't mind tellin' ye that over a year ago I heard he died suddenly inSacramento. Thar was suthin' in the paper about his bein' a lunatic andclaimin' to be a relation to somebody on the Pontiac; but likes ez notit's only the way those newspaper fellows got hold of the story of hiswantin' to marry Rosey."

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