CHAPTER XXVII
A Bearer of Evil Tidings
In was a very tired Katherine who awoke to face the work of thenext day. It was storming still, with a driving rain, so journeysof any kind were out of the question; and, yielding to the wisdomof Mrs. Burton, she remained in bed until nearly noon. Her armsached so badly that she could scarcely move them, her body wasweary in every part, and the long night had been hideous for her byreason of the nightmare dreams which broke her rest. Always itseemed when she fell asleep that she was tormented with visions ofJervis Ferrars struggling for his life in deep waters, falling frombeetling cliffs on to rugged rocks below, or being pursued byenraged and vindictive walruses across slippery places, where noone on two feet could hope to stand without falling.
Even when she awoke the dreams haunted her still, and it was notuntil the new day came, and the rest of the household had gone totheir usual avocations, that any real sleep came to her. The twinswere singing when she awoke at noon; indeed, they almost alwayswere singing: but this morning it was a lilting baby song about"The sun is always shining, somewhere, somewhere", and Katherinetook heart as she listened, then rose and dressed in great haste,for it was years since she had remained in bed so late in the day,and she was wondering what the others were doing without her tohelp them.
Miles was standing at the store door looking out across the riverwhen she entered by the other door from the living-room, and he wasso absorbed that he did not hear her come up behind him, and onlystarted when she put her hand on his arm to shake him intoattention.
"What are you staring at?" she asked lightly.
"Someone in oilskins has just rowed up and stopped over the riverat Mr. Selincourt's. It looked like Oily Dave, but Phil said lastnight that he was away at the fishing," Miles answered, as heturned back into the store.
"So he was," said Katherine. "There was the usual legend in hisdirty windows that all drinks must wait until he came back, whichis a fearful temptation to temperance people to wish that he wouldnever come back at all."
"His sort is sure to turn up safe and sound, no matter how greatthe danger; it is the best and worthiest that never come back,"Miles said, so gloomily that Katherine took instant alarm.
"What do you mean? Has any bad news come?" she asked, gripping atthe rough deal counter for support, and wondering how she would beable to bear it if he said yes.
"Mr. Selincourt went down to Seal Cove this morning and looked inhere on his way back," said Miles. "He wanted to see you, but wetold him that he could not; then he said that there was a good bitof worry about the boats. One was blown clean into the swamps lastnight, and will have to stick there until the weather is fineenough for her to be towed off, and another came ashore, badlydamaged, at the fish sheds; and he is afraid that some of the otherboats may have been driven on to the rocks."
"The boats right out in the bay would be safe, wouldn't they?"Katherine asked, with fear in her eyes.
"You never can say what will be safe in weather such as we had lastnight," Miles answered; then he moved restlessly towards the doorof the store again, and stood looking out, eager to catch the manwhose boat was moored under the alders on the opposite bank of theriver, and to learn from him if there was news from the sea.
Katherine sat down suddenly. It was as if someone had already beenin to say that a boat was wrecked. Disasters which were expectedalways came, so she told herself, and sat leaning her head againsta box of soap, the smell of which ever after suggested shipwreck toher.
Ten minutes went past, then twenty minutes, and nearly half an hourhad gone before Miles cried out excitedly: "Here he comes down thepath; Mr. Selincourt is there too, without any hat, and it israining hard! Yes, it is Oily Dave, and there goes his hand up tohis mouth, just as if he were drinking!"
Katherine was at work by this time, packing stores into boxes,bags, and bundles, which would have to be carried over the longportage next day; but she left her task now and came round to thedoor, where she stood behind Miles and looked over his shoulder.
"If Mr. Selincourt were not there I would go down and call to thefellow to come over," said Miles impatiently.
"No need," rejoined Katherine quietly, "he is coming without anycalling; don't you see that he is turning his boat across theriver?"
Neither spoke after that until the boat grounded, and Oily Davestepped out on to the bank.
"Miles, you must serve him with what he wants: don't call me; I--Iam going to be busy," Katherine said hastily, then beat a rapidretreat from the door. But she only went to the corner where a lotof gay-coloured rugs were hanging, and stood there waiting to hearwhat Oily Dave might have to tell.
How slowly he walked up from the bank! She could hear his heavyseaboots squelching through the mud, then the deep, grunting noisewhich always accompanied any of his movements.
"Good morning!" said Miles curtly, as the squelching boots crossedthe threshold.
"I don't call it a good morning," snarled Oily Dave.
Katherine drew yet closer into the shadow of the rugs, and clenchedher hands tightly to keep from screaming; something bad had got tobe told, she was sure, and she doubted her ability to bear it.
"What is wrong?" asked Miles.
"A good deal more than will ever be put right in this world, or thenext either, perhaps," replied Oily Dave. "We are afraid the_Mary_ has gone down."
"Ah!" The involuntary moan escaped the listener who was out ofsight, but Oily Dave did not hear, or at any rate he did not heed,and, after a brief pause, he went on:
"We was off Akimiski yesterday after walrus, but when it came on toblow we turned home, for there is no anchorage to run to there indirty weather, but plenty of rocks to fall foul of, which are notquite so pleasant. But we couldn't get home for a while, beingblown along the east coast of the island, with a lively chance ofbeing wrecked at any minute. We were beating along under the leeof the island when we saw a boat drifting bottom up, and when wehooked her we found she was the Mary's boat."
"It sounds bad, but it does not spell disaster quite, because,don't you see? they might have lost their boat on the way out,"retorted Miles, in a defiant tone, which meant that he did notintend to believe bad news until it was proved beyond a doubt.
"There was a water jar and a bag of biscuits tied to the thwarts,"replied Oily Dave. "It's true there wasn't nothing of the jar butthe handle, and the biscuits was pap, as was to be expected, butthe signs wasn't wanting of what had been taking place, don't yousee? If we'd found the boat with nothing in it we could have hopedthat it had just been washed adrift, and, though we should havebeen anxious, there would have been room left for hope, which incommon sense and reason there ain't now."
"There is always room for hope until we know," objected Miles."Besides, Akimiski isn't the Twins by any means; why, they must befifty miles away, if not more."
"Nearer seventy. But who is to say that they ever got so far asthe Twins? If they'd run into any sign of walrus on Akimiski onthe way out, they would stop there for certain, a bird in handbeing worth two in a bush any day in the week, and though all isfish that comes to our net, it is walrus we're keenest on, aseveryone knows. I've been to Mr. Selincourt with the news, and ithas about corked him up, poor gentleman! But the young lady wasworse still; she turned on me as spiteful as if I'd gone anddrowned the _Mary's_ crew myself."
There was a deeply injured note in Oily Dave's tone now. Heevidently resented keenly the fact that his bad tidings had notreceived a more sympathetic hearing.
"Who was on the _Mary_?" asked Miles.
"The usual lot: Nick Jones, master, Stee Jenkin, Bobby Poole, andMr. Ferrars. A perfect Jonah that man is, and disaster followswherever he goes," said Oily Dave, with a melancholy shake of hishead.
"What do you mean?" demanded Miles, with a stare of surprise.
"What I say," retorted Oily Dave. "Mr. Selincourt sent him to me asa lodger; the river came down in flood and tried to drown him, andspoiled my house something
fearful. Then he gets caught in atidehole, when out walking with his sweetheart, which MissSelincourt is, I suppose, though it passes me why a young lady withdollars same as she has got don't look higher than a fisherman.But the thing that strikes me is that the man must have donesomething pretty bad, somewhere back behind, for the waters to befollowing him round like this."
"Look here! don't you think it is a pretty low-down thing to betaking a man's character away, directly there's a rumour goinground that he is dead?" asked Miles stormily.
"I ain't taking away his character. I'm only saying that if he wasfated to drown it is a great pity that he wasn't left to drown inthe first place, seeing that it would have saved a lot of bother,and other precious lives also," replied Oily Dave, with the lookand pose of a man who is bitterly misunderstood.
"Why, you must be stark, staring mad to talk like this!" exclaimedMiles, in doubt whether to heave the nearest article on which hecould lay hands at the head of Oily Dave, or to pity him as alunatic.
"I'm no more mad than you are, young 'un; but there's a deal ofwhat scholars call practical economy in me, and I can't bear wasteof no sort or kind, I can't. Why, when customers come to my hoteland leaves any liquor in their mugs, which is but seldom, I alwaysgoes and drains 'em down my own neck, to stop waste. And so I saysthat if Mr. Ferrars hadn't been saved that first time, we shouldhave been spared trouble since."
"What trouble have you ever taken in the matter?" demanded Miles.
"Didn't I risk my life, and wet myself to the skin, pulling him andMiss Selincourt out of the tidehole?" asked Oily Dave. "If youmisdoubt my word, ask your sister, who was there and helped as wellas a gal could, which isn't much anyhow. Well, there was threelives in danger that time, him, and me, and Miss Selincourt, and Idare say your sister got dampish at the feet. Now, this third andlast time, matters is a deal more serious still. Nick Jones leavesa widow, though she don't much count. Stee Jenkin leaves a widow,nice little woman too. Then there's the children, poor things,orphans afore they are big enough to earn a penny for themselves.Bobby Poole hadn't a wife certainly, but he would have had by andby, most likely. It is a bad business altogether. And now I wantsome tobacco."
Oily Dave jerked out this last statement with a swift change oftone from mournful regret to cheerful business complacency, andMiles served him in silence, too saddened by the heavy tidings fromthe sea to break into resentful angry speech with this man, whoappeared devoid of either heart or feeling. Then the heavy bootssquelched out again, going towards the river bank, where thewaiting boat was tied to the mooring post. A moment of waiting tomake sure he did not return, and then Katherine, pale now as aghost, glided out from the shadow of the rugs.
"Miles, dear, can you do without me for the rest of the day if needbe? I am going down river to poor Mrs. Jenkin," she said, hervoice steady though strained.
"I can manage; but look at the rain!" he exclaimed, swinging hishand towards the open door.
"All the more reason why I should go to her, poor little woman,"Katherine answered, then passed with a quick step into the house,in search of garments to keep out the weather.
Mrs. Burton was preparing the early dinner, and Katherine told herof the news Oily Dave had brought, speaking in quiet, mournfultones which yet lacked any note of personal loss. Not even toherself would she admit the sorrow at this time, or it would havebroken her down completely. Her instinct of going to comfortsomeone else was the outcome of the strife she was having not tocollapse in a miserable, selfish breakdown.
Mrs. Burton turned white and shivered. Just so had her heavy newscome to her, and in her sympathy for Mrs. Jenkin her own woundsbled afresh. But Katherine could not stay to comfort her, theother poor woman needed it so much more.
"Nellie, I am going down to Seal Cove, and if Mrs. Jenkin needs meI shall stay until the morning," she said hurriedly.
"That is good of you, dear," sobbed the elder sister, and wouldhave said something more, only Katherine went out of the room sohastily that there was no chance.
Poor Katherine had fled so precipitately through fear that Nellieshould say some word about Jervis, with possibly some commiserationfor Mary, and that just now would be a thing too hard to bear.Wrapping herself from neck to heels in a mackintosh coat, with acap of the same, Katherine got into her boat and pulled down riverthrough the driving rain. She rowed as fast as she could, not somuch from haste to be at the end of her journey as from a desire tohave no time to think.
Tying her boat up at the foot of the path leading to Mrs. Jenkin'shouse, she climbed to the house door, slipping at every step. Amoment she paused before knocking, expecting to hear sobs andwailing from the inside; but instead there came a burst of childishlaughter and a great stamping of little feet, and then she heardMrs. Jenkin singing in a cheerful, if not very musical, voice: "Mylove is a soldier dressed in red".
Katherine stood appalled. Was it possible that Oily Dave had nottold this poor woman of the trouble which had come to her? In thatcase she would have to break the heavy news herself, and at thethought she turned coward, and would gladly have slipped away againby the way she had come.
Mrs. Jenkin reached the end of the verse, and shrill, childishvoices took up the chorus:
"In red, in red, he's all in red, My love is a soldier dressed in red".
Katherine stood listening while the chorus ended. Then Mrs. Jenkinstarted on afresh: "My love is a sailor clothed in blue".
But this was too much, and Katherine, pushing the door hurriedlyopen, forgetting the small ceremony of knocking, crossed thethreshold and stood, a dripping figure, just inside the door.
"My dear Miss Radford, what is the matter?" cried the little woman,jumping up in such a hurry that she upset the baby on to the floor,where he lay and yelled, more from consternation than because hewas hurt.
Katherine hesitated. Where could she begin? But then, to hersurprise, Mrs. Jenkin burst out excitedly: "You surely haven't beenputting any belief in that story that Oily Dave has been goinground with this morning?"
"Isn't it true?" faltered Katherine; then, feeling suddenly weak,she dropped into the nearest seat, and tried to keep her lips fromquivering.
"Did you ever know him speak the truth, the whole truth, andnothing but the truth?" demanded Mrs. Jenkin scornfully, as shepicked up the yelling infant and cuddled him into quiet again.
"But the others were with him, Jean Doulais, and Mickey White, andthey found the boat of the _Mary_," faltered Katherine,
"What of that?" cried Mrs. Jenkin. "The _Mary_ had two boats, andone might easily have got adrift through accident. I laughed inhis face when he told about the water jar and the bag of biscuit.Nick Jones and Stee always keep water and biscuit in the littleboats when they are hoping for a whale, for sometimes it is a longchase, and then the men get just about worn out."
"The fleet boats have been very safe so far," remarked Katherine,trying to find comfort from the little woman's cheery front, yetrather failing.
"Yes, the safest boats that go fishing in the bay, my man says, andhe reckons it is because they are so small and well built," Mrs.Jenkin went on, plainly delighted to have a visitor, and evidentlynot much concerned about her husband's safety. "But slip that wetcoat off, dear, and come closer to the stove; this damp makes uschilly, and reminds us that winter will soon be sneaking up at theback of the wind. You surely are not out delivering goods on amorning like this?"
"No, I came because I was so sorry for you," Katherine answeredsimply.
"Now, that is the real sort of friendship, and I thank you with allmy heart," said Mrs. Jenkin, patting Katherine on the shoulder witha hand that was not too clean. Then she issued a command to hereldest daughter: "Take Percival, Gwendoline, and do you and Valeriego and play on my bed; you can have a lovely time rolling round inthe blankets."
Shrieks of delight greeted this suggestion, and the three grandlynamed but very dirty babies promptly retired to the next room,leaving their mother and the visitor in peace,
if not in quiet.The walls of the little house were very thin, and rolling round inthe blankets appeared to be a very noisy pastime.
"If I believed that the _Mary_ had gone down, it is a verymiserable woman I should be to-day," said Mrs. Jenkin, who wasswaying gently in a rocking-chair, "for Stee is a good husband,though perhaps he hasn't always been as straight as he ought tohave been. But that was when Oily Dave was in power here. It islike master, like man, you know, and Stee is desperate easy led,either wrong or right."
"If only we knew that the _Mary_ was safe!" moaned poor Katherine.
"I should know if it wasn't," Mrs. Jenkin answered confidently.Then she hesitated, turned very red in the face, and burst intoimpetuous speech: "I knew Stee was in danger that night last winterwhen he and Oily Dave went through the snow to steal goods fromyour cache, and the wolves set upon them. I perspired in sheerhorror that night, though I knew nothing about what was afoot, andI knelt praying on the floor till Stee came home with his clothesall torn, and told me what he had been through. Ah! that was adark and dreadful night; may I never see such another."
"I do not think you will," said Katherine softly. She spoke withconviction, too, for certainly Stee Jenkin had been a verydifferent individual since that time.
Mrs. Jenkin wiped her eyes with a pinafore of Valerie's, whichhappened to lie handy. "I don't believe in that saying about lovebeing blind," she remarked, with considerable energy. "I know thatI have been able to see Stee's faults plain enough, and yet he isall the world to me. Yes, dear, you had better be wed to a faultyman that you really love, than be tied up to an angel that youdon't love."
Katherine rose and began to struggle into her long wet mackintosh."I would have stayed if you had really needed me," she said; "butall the while you can hope you are not to be pitied."
"Thank you, thank you, Miss Radford, good of you to come," said thelittle woman. Stee isn't dead yet, or I must have known it. I don'tbelieve he has been in danger even."
"If only I could feel like that!" murmured Katherine to herself, asshe went out into the driving rain once more.