And still they heard no call of distress from the _Davy Jones_.
Tully, desperate, raced his engine until they whistled through thefoaming spray. Then suddenly they felt the keel grind under them withsuch force that it took all their combined strength to steady the boatand keep her from turning over.
“What happened, do you s’pose?” Skippy asked with white face.
“Sufferin’ swordfish, kid!” Tully cried. “I think she’s stove in—TheRocks! _Look!_”
He pointed and Skippy looked, to see a jagged hole in the bottom of thekicker. Water came in through it rapidly and even as he stared at it, ittrickled over his feet and up to his ankles.
CHAPTER XXVII SUSPENSE
“What’ll we do?” Skippy cried. “Gee, what’ll we do?”
“We’ll be swimmin’ for it, kid,” Big Joe answered, his face ashen anddrawn. “Inland Beach’s nearest—we’ll be swimmin’ it in a half hour,takin’ it aisy like.”
“_Easy!_ In this water and wind?”
“Skippy, don’t be worryin’. Sure and I ain’t goin’ to see ye go down.I’ll be keepin’ ye up if it takes me life.”
Suddenly Skippy turned, pleading. Big Joe knew and his eyes droppedbefore the boy’s accusing gaze.
“And what can I be doin’ about the _Davy Jones_ now, kid!” he protested“I _got_ ye to be thinkin’ about now.... Sufferin’ swordfish!” Hegroaned.
“Then we gotta swim to Inland Beach as fast as we can, Big Joe,” Skippysaid, master of himself once more. “We gotta get help right away for the_Davy Jones_!”
“Sure, sure,” the big fellow moaned, “anythin’, kid, only don’t belookin’ at me so accusin’. Did I know it was goin’ to happen like this?Sufferin’ swordfish!”
“C’mon, Big Joe—_c’mon_!”
They had no sooner jumped clear of the boat than she sank out of sight.A terrific gale blew them along and Skippy kept close to Tully, buoyedup by the thought that he must keep going in order to get help for the_Davy Jones_.
And for once Tully was right in a prediction. It took them all of thehalf hour before they sighted the sandy wastes of Inland Beach.
The summer colonists sheltered from the storm in their inadequatelybuilt bungalows sighted the bobbing heads of the swimmers as theybattled their way against the tide. Speedily the beach was covered withpeople and the life-guards, summarily dragged from their bunks in theirbeach shanty, jumped drowsy-eyed into the life-boat and went intoaction.
Ten minutes later, the two were rushed up to the guards’ shanty andhurriedly divested of their dripping garments.
“We gotta ...” Skippy began as soon as he had a chance to talk.
“We thought we heard a siren,” Big Joe interposed. “Sure, it soundedlike distress—there ain’t a doubt.”
“We heard it plain!” Skippy exclaimed anxiously. “An’ it came from theChannel—didn’t it, Big Joe, huh?”
“Sure and he’s right. ’Tis about where I figgered she was comin’ from,”Tully added.
“An’ we better start right out again!” Skippy said eagerly. “With thishigh wind....”
“A guy hasn’t much chance in the Channel,” interposed one of the guardsbluntly. “I can tell you that before we start. And if it wasn’t that yousay you’re sure you heard it, we wouldn’t take a chance ourselves. Evena big tub like ours ain’t a match for the Channel in a storm and highwind.”
“But we’re sure we heard it! Ain’t we, Big Joe?”
“Sure we did that!” Tully said emphatically.
And so they started for the Channel.
The wind died down shortly after they had lost sight of Inland Beach.Presently the rain ceased and after a few moments’ struggle with stormclouds, the sun came smiling through.
Skippy smiled too, hopeful that it augured well for the object of theirsearch. Tully relaxed and took a cigarette that one of the guardsoffered him. He talked little and kept his eyes ahead.
They reached the Channel in a half hour and for a full hour theysearched it up and down. Skippy kept his eyes on the water; he dared notlet the guards see the hopelessness written there should his glancechance to meet Tully’s.
“Sure we _couldn’t_ be dreamin’ we heard a siren, now could we?” Tullypleaded when the guards announced their intention of returning to thebeach.
“You guys didn’t seem to be so sure you heard any at all when we firstgot you out of the water,” one of the men reminded them.
“Sure and we were kind o’ all in from the breaks we got,” Tullyexplained. His voice sounded hollow and weary.
“Well, we don’t hear no siren now,” said the other guard, “and we’vebeen up and down the Channel. If there _was_ any guy in distress, maybehe’s been swept out to sea. And we can’t go hunting that far for youfellers. We’ll send out word to the coast guard anyway when we get backjust to be on the safe side. They’ll find the tub if it’s still afloat.”
“An’ if there was any siren signaling distress when that high wind firstcome up,” said the first guard, “she’s most likely screeching now for toget into Davy Jones’ locker. Who knows?”
Skippy and Big Joe would have given their lives at that moment to know.
CHAPTER XXVIII THE DUFFYS
They borrowed a kicker from one of the summer colonists and set out forhome just before noon. Skippy was too overwhelmed to speak until longafter they left the beach and Tully sat tragic and silent at the wheel.
“We might’s well look agin,” he murmured brokenly, as he headed the boattoward the Channel. “Just so’s to be makin’ sure.”
“Might’s well,” Skippy echoed. Then: “Gee, do you think maybe he wasblowin’ the siren?”
“That he must o’ done. He must o’ been blowin’ it like mad.”
They spent half the afternoon chugging up and down the Channel andpassed several craft, government and otherwise, which had heard thewarning that the Inland Beach guards had passed along. Finally theydecided to return home and with bowed heads found their way out of thetreacherous waters.
“Sure if the coast guards ain’t found him, we won’t—not if we be stayin’there all night,” said Tully mournfully. “Kid, don’t ye be jumpin’ onme, now. If ye knew what I been through since ... since.... I beenblowin’ a siren in distress five hun’erd times, so I have, and fivehun’erd times, I been in that _Davy Jones_ callin’ me lungs out for helpan’ no help come! I’ve sunk with her too—oh shiverin’ swordfish ... kid,I ain’t nothin’ but a plain....”
“Don’t say it, Big Joe,” said Skippy, moved to the depths of his soulwith pity. “Gee, don’t I know! You wouldn’t have done it a-purpose.”
“No. ’Tis right ye be there.” Tully looked beaten.
They chugged on up the river and seemed to pass everyone they knew.Inspector Jones and his men bobbed by in the trim harbor launch waving acheery greeting to Skippy and eyeing Tully with obvious suspicion.
Skippy was grateful for the silent inlet and the warm throaty bark thatMugs gave as he scrambled aboard the barge. He looked at the dog, winceda little at his faithful canine eyes and took him up in his arms. Hecouldn’t do to Mugs what they had done to that unknown man on the _DavyJones_.
He sprawled in a rickety arm chair on deck while the sun sank slowly inthe west. The whole horizon was a blaze of scarlet, then gold, thenpurple and at last it faded into leaden colored clouds. Big Joe wascalling him in to supper.
Skippy looked down in the crook of his arm at the sleeping dog. Supper?He didn’t want any—he never wanted to eat while that man on the _DavyJones_ lay in Watson’s Channel. He couldn’t do it to Mugs.
Tully got tired of waiting and came out on deck. After one glance atSkippy’s tragic face he got his hat, pulled it down over his head andleft the barge while the boy watched him go with a constricted feelingin his throat. And though he wanted with all his heart to call Big Joeback, he knew that h
e could never again sit opposite him at the tablewith a dead man between them.
Dusk settled over the inlet and through the shadows came Mrs. Duffy. Hercheery smile was conspicuous by its absence just then and her cheekslooked tear-stained and haggard. Skippy forgot the dead man in the _DavyJones_—he was all concern for this kindly neighbor who had helped nursehim back to health.
Hadn’t Skippy heard? Mrs. Duffy sobbed a little, then bravely smiledthrough her tears. She had to be strong and brave—other wives andmothers in the Basin were getting used to the experience of seeing theirmenfolk taken in by the long arm of the law. And now Mr. Duffy had beenadded to that number.
What had he done? No more than other river folk had done before him. Butit was forbidden by the law and there you were. And the excuse that theyhad to live and eat carried no weight in the courts of the land. Neitherdid the courts care that a rich and unscrupulous Josiah Flint had luredthese men into his vicious employ at starvation wages only to leave themunwanted and ostracized from honest employment upon his untimely death.And Mr. Josephus Duffy, obeying that primal law of the survival of thefittest, was to be jailed for five years because he stole whenemployment was denied him. Five years of punishment for bringing foodhome to his family!
Skippy’s young heart was bursting with sympathy. Wrapped up in his ownand his father’s concerns he had been vaguely conscious of hisneighbors, the Duffys of the _Dinky O. Cross_. Squatters like himself,he had been aware that they came and went, but that was all. Now theybecame suddenly real and vivid to him—the Duffys, father and mother, andtheir two children, minus the father now.
“And wouldn’t Skinner give him nothin’ at the Central havin’ two kidslike you got?” he asked sympathetically.
“Skinner’d push men in prison before he’d help ’em get a decent job,”the good woman said with a jerk of her head. “He said he’s goin’ toclean all us scum out of this Basin—ain’t you heard?”
Yes, Skippy had heard only too well. He leaned over and timidly touchedthe woman’s work-worn hands, pledging his slim, manly self as an aid andcomfort to herself and her two unfortunate children. In gratitude, shehugged the boy to her breast and hurried back to the _Dinky O. Cross_ toput her young ones to bed.
Skippy cherished that embrace; it was the only maternal affection he hadever known. His eyes shone into the darkness with the joy of it and hehugged Mugs still closer in his arms and spent some time in reflectingon why he was so happy when he was so sad.
Josiah Flint and Marty Skinner rose up before his eyes. He was beginningto realize what sorrow they had brought to the river people—_hispeople_! A fellow feels things like that when he’s going on thirteen.
Thirteen! Skippy looked up into the starlit sky and blinked. Mugs’ evenbreathing was like the whisper of the breeze blowing about his head. Andhe went to sleep planning how he could save the menfolk of the Basinfrom future prison life. He would see that the boys went to school as hehimself had wanted to do so badly and he would see that they got decent,honest wages so that they could live as other people did in houses withpretty gardens....
Tully found him still asleep when he came back at midnight.
CHAPTER XXIX GOOD NEWS
“Skip—Skippy, kid!” Tully called, shaking the boy to arouse him.
Skippy sat up, startled. Mugs barked blatantly.
“What’s up, huh? You look as if something’d happened—what’s the matter?”
Tully motioned him into the shanty where he lighted the lamp and satdown.
“Can ye stand hearin’ somethin’ without faintin’?” he asked mirthlessly.
“I guess so,” the boy answered shaking his straight hair from off hisforehead. “But I hope it ain’t anything worse!”
“Better and worse, sorta,” Big Joe laughed ruefully. “But first so’s tobe aisin’ ye, kid—the _Davy Jones_ turned back, so she did, when shereached the bay this mornin’. From what the boat tender told me, suremust o’ put a little extra dose o’ the powder in the breather and shestarted kickin’ up a rumpus a little sooner than ordinary, she did. Sothe owner, bein’ a foxy guy, turned back when he heard that and saw thestorm clouds comin’ in from over the sea.”
“So the _Davy Jones_ ain’t in her locker then, huh? Gee, am I glad!”
“Sure, and she got back to the club, and the owner had somebody comeright away to be seein’ what was wrong.”
“Did they find out?”
“That they did, kid. He’s got the police on the case, and I thinkthey’ll be workin’ on me. But they ain’t got no evidence so they ain’t,and besides, I took all me powder and threw it in the inlet tonight, soI did.”
Skippy sat down at the table, his head in his hands.
“Gee, I was afraid something awful would come of it.”
“Now don’t ye be worryin’ too soon, kid. They’ll have to be goin’ someto get me.... You can bet on that.”
“Gee, Big Joe, you don’t savvy. It’s the idea of gettin’ the copperssuspectin’ me and sayin’ they expected sumpin’ like that from TobyDare’s kid. That’s what I couldn’t bear Pop to hear after he’s plannedbetter things for me. Gee, I couldn’t stand it!” Then: “Who owns the_Davy Jones_, Big Joe, huh?” he demanded.
“Now that’s a funny thing,” Tully said. “The _Davy Jones_ is Crosley’s.He bought her a week ago after he sold the _Minnehaha_. I s’pose that’swhy he played foxy whin the ingine wint wrong with the new one? If thatbig sap boat tender had only tole me who owned her I’d niver....”
“Gee whiz, Big Joe, now I can see why Pop said these crooked racketsdon’t pay in the end. It’s account of that _if_. It’s always if this orthat didn’t happen everythin’ would be all right. But it never is. Oh,gee, I’m not hoppin’ on you—maybe I’d been just like you if it wasn’tthat I’m sick and disgusted with crooked rackets already. Maybe it’sbecause my mother came from a farm and so I’m not all river, huh?Anyway, I know I don’t want any more of this business. I’m gonna bestraight I am. I learned a lesson today on that _Davy Jones_ businessan’ I mean it.”
“Me, too!” said Big Joe with all his old time swagger. “I was tellin’meself comin’ back here that if I think up an aisy racket where thecoppers don’t get wise, I’ll be savin’ up a few grand an’ thin open upone o’ thim hot dog stands in the country. Sure and the river won’t seeme at all, at all after that.”
Skippy laughed outright—for, boy that he was, he could see that Tullywould be Tully as long as the river flowed down to the sea.
CHAPTER XXX BEASELL
Next day, life in the Basin flowed once more in familiar channels. Tullytrod the decks watching for the unwelcome police and puffing furiouslyon his cigarettes. Skippy sprawled in the rickety easy chair, playingwith the dog and calling out to Mrs. Duffy some words of cheer when theoccasion required. And when sunset came and the law had not put in itsappearance they had supper noisily together.
Tully stretched out in his bunk after the meal had been cleared away. Helooked at peace with the world. Skippy, watching him out of the cornerof his eye, wondered what new racket he was planning now. And he didn’trest until he had asked the big fellow point blank.
“Me racket for a while, kid,” Tully said amiably, “is to be keepin’ yefrom gettin’ gloomy and sad. Whin I’m sure that Crosley ain’t set thecoppers on me trail thin I’ll be turnin’ around—see? Right now I’mstickin’ close to the _Minnie M. Baxter_, so I be.”
“And you could do worse, Big Joe, believe me. I’m gonna stick close toountil I know what’s what. But we’ll talk about that then.”
An insistent knock sounded on the door. Tully blanched and looked aboutfor some means of escape. But Skippy, braving himself to the task, swungopen the door to get it over with.
A man stood outside, bowing graciously and smiling. He stepped inside atSkippy’s invitation.
“Beasell’s the name, boys,” he s
aid. “Yuh heard how Marty Skinner’srunnin’ the works for Buck Flint?”
“Sure we been hearin’ it too much, I’ll be tellin’ ye,” Big Joe snappedas he came ponderously out of his bunk and stood on the floor.
“It’s all jake then, big boy, you an’ me won’t waste no time,” Beasellsaid unruffled.
“You’ve come to tell us....” Skippy began fearfully.
“Marty says all yuh squatters in this Basin’ll have tuh scram by sundowntomorrow, get me? He’s had all the rough stuff he’s goin’ for and thatgoes double for the warehouse guys. So it’s scram in twenty-four hours,see? If yuh can’t take these lousy scows out we’ll blow ’em up, get me?Just a nice little Fourth uh July party, see?” He chuckled as if at agreat joke.
“You can’t blow up the _Minnie M. Baxter_!” Skippy cried. “Even a guylike Skinner can’t take her from me ’cause, ’cause....”
“Lissen, punk, and you too, big boy, it’s scram by sundown tomorrow,”Beasell snarled. “Yuh better get me. I ain’t kiddin’ believe yuh me!” Hescowled as he left to spread the bad news to the _Dinky O. Cross_.
“Sufferin’ swordfish! Sure that Skinner’s a lousy rat,” Big Joe growled.“I should o’ been pastin’ that slimy Beasell but it wouldn’t done nogood. He’s only carryin’ out orders.”
“Not only me’n you’s gotta go, Big Joe,” said Skippy plaintively, “butMrs. Duffy an’ her kids an’ everybody here in the Basin. How’re they allgonna pack up an’ clear out by tomorrow night, huh? Gee, that ain’tfair. There ain’t one of us got a home to go to—gee whiz, these barges,why—they’re home!”