V ~ ON THE BRIDGE OF YACHT "_OLENIA_"
O the times are hard and the wages low, Leave her, bullies, leave her! I guess it's time for us to go, It's time for us to leave her. --Across the Western Ocean.
Captain Mayo was not finding responsibility his chief worry while the_Olenia_ was making port.
It was a real mariner's job to drive her through the fog, stab theharbor entrance, and hunt out elbow-room for her in a crowded anchorage.But all that was in the line of the day's work. While he watched thecompass, estimated tide drift, allowed for reduced speed, and listenedfor the echoes which would tell him his distance from the rocky shore,he was engaged in the more absorbing occupation of canvassing hispersonal affairs.
As the hired master of a private yacht he might have overlooked thataffront from the owner, even though it was delivered to a captain on thebridge.
But love has a pride of its own. He had been abused like a lackey in thehearing of Alma Marston. It was evident that the owner had not finishedthe job. Mayo knew that he had merely postponed his evil moment bysending back a reply which would undoubtedly seem like insubordinationin the judgment of a man who did not understand ship discipline andetiquette of the sea.
It was evident that Marston intended to call him "upon the carpet" onthe quarter-deck as soon as the yacht was anchored, and proposed tocontinue that insulting arraignment.
In his new pride, in the love which now made all other matters of lifeso insignificant, Mayo was afraid of himself; he knew his limitations inthe matter of submission; even then he felt a hankering to walk aftand jounce Julius Marston up and down in his hammock chair. He did notbelieve he could stand calmly in the presence of Alma Marston and listento any unjust berating, even from her father.
He tried to put his flaming resentment out of his thoughts, but he couldnot. In the end, he told himself that perhaps it was just as well! AlmaMarston must have pride of her own. She could not continue to love a manwho remained in the position of her father's hireling; she would surelybe ashamed of a lover who was willing to hump his back and take alashing in public. His desire to be with her, even at the cost of hispride, was making him less a man and he knew it. He decided toface Marston, man fashion, and then go away. He felt that she wouldunderstand in spite of her grief.
Then, turning from a look at the compass, he saw that the yacht's ownerwas on the bridge. Half of an un-lighted cigar, which was soggy with thedampness of the fog, plugged Marston's-mouth.
He scowled when the captain saluted.
"You needn't bother to talk now," the millionaire broke in whenMayo began an explanation of his delay in obeying the call to thequarter-deck. "When I have anything to say to a man I want his undividedattention. Is this fog going to hold on?"
"Yes, sir, until the wind hauls more to the norrard."
"Then anchor."
"I am heading into Saturday Cove now, sir."
"Anchor here."
"I'm looking for considerably more than a capful of wind when it comes,sir. It isn't prudent to anchor offshore."
Marston grunted and turned away. He stood at the end of the bridge,chewing on the cigar, until the _Olenia_ was in the harbor with mudhookset. Mayo twitched the jingle bell, signaling release to the engineer.
"I am at your service, sir," he reported, walking to the owner.
Marston rolled the plugging cigar to a corner of his mouth and inquired,"Now, young man, tell me what you mean by saluting a Bee line steamerwith my whistle?"
"I did not salute the _Conomo_, sir."
"You gave her three whistles."
"Yes, but--"
"You're on a gentleman's yacht now, young man, and not on afishing-steamer. Yachting etiquette doesn't allow a steam-whistle tobe sounded in salute. Mr. Beveridge has just looked it up for me, and Iknow, and you need not assume any of your important knowledge." Marstonseemed to be displaying much more irritation than a small matterwarranted. But what he added afforded more light on the subject. "Themanager of the Bee line was on board that steamer. You heard him hootthat siren at me!"
"I heard him give me cross-signals in defiance of the rules of the road,sir."
"Didn't you know that he whistled at me as an insult--as a sneer?"
"I heard only ordinary signals, sir."
"Everything is ordinary to a sailor's observation! You allowed him tocrowd you off your course. You made a spectacle of my yacht, splashingit around like a frightened duck."
"I was avoiding collision, sir."
"You should have made your bigness with my yacht! You sneaked and dodgedlike a fishing-boat skipper. Was it on a fishing-boat you were trainedto those tricks?"
"I have commanded a fishing-steamer, sir."
"On top of it all you gave him three whistles--regular fishing-boatmanners, eh?"
Captain Mayo straightened and his face and eyes expressed the spirit ofa Yankee skipper who knew that he was right.
"I say," insisted Marston, "that you saluted him."
"And I say, sir, that he cross-signaled, an offense that has lostmasters their licenses. When I was pinched I gave him three whistles tosay that my engines were going full speed astern. If Mr. Beveridge hadlooked farther in that book he might have found that rule, too!"
"When I looked up at the bridge, here, you were waving your hand tohim--three whistles and a hand-wave! You can't deny that you weresaluting!"
"I was shaking my fist at him, sir."
Within himself Captain Mayo was frankly wondering because the owner ofthe _Olenia_ was displaying all this heat. He remembered the taunt fromthe pilot-house of the _Conomo_ and understood vaguely that there weredepths in the affair which he had not fathomed. But he was in no mood toatone vicariously for the offenders aboard the _Conomo_.
"If I could have found a New York captain who knew the short cuts alongthis coast I could have had some decency and dignity on board my yacht.I'm even forgetting my own sense of what is proper--out here wastingwords and time in this fashion. You're all of the same breed, youdown-easters!"
"I am quite sure you can find a New York captain--" began Mayo.
"I don't want your opinion in regard to my business, young man. When Ineed suggestions from you I'll ask for them." He flung his soggy cigarover the rail and went down the ladder, and the fog closed immediatelybehind him.
Captain Mayo paced the bridge. He was alone there. A deck-hand hadhooded the brass of the binnacle and search-light, listening while theowner had called the master to account. Mayo knew that the full reportof that affair would be carried to the forecastle. His position aboardthe yacht had become intolerable. He wondered how much Marston wouldsay aft. His cheeks were hot and rancor rasped in his thoughts. In thehearing of the girl he adored his shortcomings would be the subject fora few moments of contemptuous discourse, even as the failings of cooksform a topic for idle chatter at the dinner-table.
Out of the blank silence of the wrapping fog came many sounds. Noisescarried far and the voice of an unseen singer, who timed himself tothe clank of an Apple-treer pump, brought to Mayo the words of an oldshanty:
"Come all you young fellows that follow the sea, Now pray pay attention and lis-ten to me. O blow the man down, bullies, blow the man down! Way-ay, blow the man down. O blow the man down in Liverpool town! Give me some time to blow the man down. 'Twas aboard a Black-Bailer I first served my time, And in that Black-Bailer I wasted my prime. 'Tis larboard and starboard on deck you will sprawl, For blowers and strikers command the Black Ball. So, it's blow the man down, bullies--"
Alma Marston's voice interrupted his somber appreciation of thesignificance of that ditty. "Are you up there, Boyd?" she asked, incautious tones.
He hurried to the head of the ladder and saw her at its foot, halfhidden in the mists even at that short distance. He reached down hishand and she came up, grasping it.
She was studying his expression with both eagerness
and apprehension. "Icouldn't stay away from you any longer," she declared. "The fog is goodto us! Father could not see me as I came forward. I must tell you, Boyd.He has ordered me to stay aft."
He did not speak.
"Has he dared to say to you what he has been saying below about you?"
"I don't think it needed any especial daring on your father's part; I amonly his servant," he said, with bitterness.
"And he--he insulted you like that?"
"I suppose your father did not look on what he said as insult. I repeat,I am a paid servant."
"But what you did was right! I know it must have been right, for youknow everything about what is right to do on the sea."
"I understand my duties."
"And he blamed you for something?"
"It was a bit worse than that from my viewpoint." He smiled down ather, for her eyes were searching his face as if appealing for a bit ofconsolation.
"Boyd, don't mind him," she entreated. "Somebody who has been fightinghim in business has been very naughty. I don't know just what it's allabout. But he has so many matters to worry him. And he snaps at me justthe same, every now and then."
"Yes, some men are cowards enough to abuse those who must look to themfor the comforts of this world," he declared.
"We must make allowances."
"I'll not stay in a position where a man who hires me thinks he cantalk to me as if I were a foremast hand. Alma, you would despise me if Iallowed myself to be kicked around like a dog."
"I would love you all the more for being willing to sacrifice somethingfor my sake. I want you here--here with all your love--here with me aslong as these summer days last." She patted his cheek. "Why don't youtell me that you want to stay with me, Boyd? That you will die if wecannot be together? We can see each other here. I can bring Nan Burgesson the bridge with me. Father will not mind then. Let each day take careof itself!"
"I want to be what you want me to be--to do what you want me to do. ButI wish you would tell me to go out into the world and make something ofmyself. Alma, tell me to go! And wait for me!"
She laid her face against his shoulder and reached for his fingers,endeavoring to pull one of his arms about her. But both of his handswere clutching the rail of the bridge. He resisted.
"Are you going to be like all the rest? Just money and trouble andworry?" She stretched up on tiptoe and brushed a kiss across his fog-wetcheek. "Are you asleep, my big boy? Yesterday you were awake."
"I think I am really awake to-day, and that I was dreaming yesterday.Alma, I cannot sneak behind your father's back to make love to you. Ican't do it. I'm going to give up this position. I can't endure it."
"I say 'No!' I need you."
"But--"
"I'll not give you up."
There was something dramatic in her declaration; her demeanor expressedthe placid calm of absolute proprietorship. She worked his unwillingfingers free from the rail.
"I love you because you can forget yourself. Now don't be like all theothers."
He realized that a queer little sting of impatience was pricking him.The girl did not seem to understand what his manhood was prompting.
"You mustn't be selfish, Boyd!"
She put into words the vague thought which had been troubling him inregard to her attitude; and now that he understood what his thought hadbeen he was incensed by what seemed his own disloyalty. And yet, thegirl was asking him to make over his nature!
"I'm afraid it's all wrong. These things never seem to come out right,"he mourned.
"You are trying to turn the world upside down all at once--and allalone. Don't think so much, you solemn Yankee. Just love!"
He put his aims about her. "I'm sailing in new waters. I don't seem toknow the true course or the right bearings!"
"Let's stay anchored until the fog lifts! Isn't that what sailorsusually do?"
He confessed it, kissing her when she lifted her tantalizing face fromhis shoulder.
"Now you'll let the future alone, won't you?" she asked.
"Yes." But even while he promised he was obliged to face that future.
Julius Marston, at the foot of the ladder, called to his daughter. "Areyou up there?" he demanded, sharply.
"Yes, father."
"Come down here."
She gave her lover a hasty caress and obeyed.
Captain Mayo was obliged to listen. Marston, in his anger, showed noconsideration for possible eavesdroppers.
"I have told you to stay aft where you belong."
"Really, father, I don't understand why--"
"Those are my orders! I understand. _You_ don't need to understand. Thisworld is full of cheap fellows who misinterpret actions."
Captain Mayo grasped the rails of the bridge ladder and did down to thedeck without touching his feet to the treads. He appeared before thefather and daughter with startling suddenness.
"Mr. Marston, I am leaving my position on board here as soon as you canget another man to take my place."
"You are, eh?"
"Yes, sir."
"You signed papers for the season. It is not convenient for me to makea change." Marston spoke with the crispness of a man who had settled thematter.
Captain Mayo was conscious that the girl was trying to attract his gaze,but he kept his eyes resolutely from her face.
"I insist on being relieved."
"I have no patience with childishness in a man! I found it necessary toreprimand you. You'll probably know your place after this." He turnedaway.
"I have decided that I do not belong on this yacht," stated Mayo, withan emphasis he knew the girl would understand. "You must get anothermaster!"
"I cannot pick captains out of this fog, and I allow no man to tellme my own business. I shall keep you to your written agreement. Holdyourself in readiness to carry telegrams ashore for me. I take it thereis an office here?"
"There is, sir," returned Mayo, stiffly.
The girl, departing, bestowed on him a pretty grimace of triumph,plainly rejoicing because his impetuous resignation had been overruledso autocratically. But Mayo gave a somber return to the raillery of hereyes. He had spoken out to Marston as a man, and had been treated withthe contemptuous indifference which would be accorded to a bond-servant.He was wounded by the light manner in which she viewed that affront,even though her own father offered it.
He stood there alone for a time, meditating various rash acts. Butunder all the tumult of his feelings was the realization that theresponsibility for that yacht's discipline and safety rested on hisshoulders and he went about his duties. He called two of the crew andordered the gangway steps down and the port dinghy cleared and lowered.Then he went to the chart-room and sat on a locker and tried to figureout whether he was wonderfully happy or supremely miserable.
Marston promptly closeted himself with his three wise men of businessafter he went aft. "We'll frame up those telegrams now and get themoff," he told them. "I thought I'd better wait until I had worked thebile out of my system. Never try to do sane and safe business whenyou're angry, gentlemen! I'm afraid those telegrams would not havebeen exactly coherent if I had written them right after that Bee linersmashed past us."
"I have been ready to believe that Tucker would come in with us on theright lay," said one of the associates.
"So did I," agreed Marston. "I have thought all his loud talk has beenbluff to beat up a bigger price. But, after what he did to-day! Ohno! He is out to fight and he grabbed his chance to show us! I do notbelieve a lot of this regular fight talk. But when a man comes up andsmashes me between the eyes I begin to suspect his intentions."
"There's no need of dickering with him any longer, Mr. Marston. Hemade his work as dirty as he could to-day--he has left nothing open todoubt."
"I'm sorry," said another of the group. "Tucker has let himself getugly."
"So have I," replied Marston, dryly. "And I'm growing senile, too, I'mafraid. I went forward and wasted as much anathema on that skipper ofmine as I would use
up in putting through a half-million deal with anopposition traffic line. Next thing I know I'll be arguing with, thesmoke-stack. But I must confess, gentlemen, that Tucker rather took mybreath away to-day. Either he has become absolutely crazy or else hedoesn't understand the strength of the combination."
"He hasn't waked up yet. He doesn't know what's against him."
"That may be our fault, in a measure," stated one of the men. "Wehaven't been able to let men like Tucker in on the full details."
"In business it's the good guesser who wins," declared Marston. "Ourmerger isn't a thing to be advertised. And if we do any more explainingto Tucker the whole plan _will_ be advertised, you can depend on it.The infernal fool has been holding us up three months, demanding moreknowledge--and he can't be trusted. There's only one thing to do,gentlemen! That!" He drove his fist into his palm with significant thud.
"Is the Bee line absolutely essential in our plans?"
"Every line along this coast is essential in making that merger stock anair-tight proposition."
"It's a new line and is not paying dividends."
"Well, for that matter, it's got nothing in that respect on some of theother lines we're salting down in the merger," suggested a member of theparty, speaking for the first time.
"I'm afraid you said it then, Thompson! American bottoms seem to beturned into barnacle-gardens," declared the man who had questioned thematter of Tucker's value.
"Gentlemen, just a moment!" Julius Marston leaned forward in hischair. His voice was low. His eyes narrowed. He dominated them by hisearnestness. "You have followed me in a number of enterprises, and wehave had good luck. But let me tell you that we have ahead of us thebiggest thing yet, and we cannot afford to leave one loose end! Notone, gentlemen! That's why a fool like Tucker doesn't deserve anyconsideration when he gets in our way. Listen to me! The biggest thingthat has ever happened in this world is going to happen. How do I know?I am not sure that I do know. But as I have just told you, the man whoguesses right is the winner." His thin nose was wrinkled, and the stripof beard on his chin bristled. Sometimes men called Marston "the fox ofWall Street." He suggested the reason for his nickname as he sat thereand squinted at his associates. "And there's an instinct that helps somemen to guess right. Something is going to happen in this world beforelong that will make millionaires over and over out of men who haveinvested a few thousands in American bottoms."
"What will happen?" bluntly inquired one of the men, after a silence.
"I am neither clairvoyant nor crystal-gazer," said Marston, grimly. "ButI have led you into some good things when my instinct has whispered. Isay it's going to happen--and I say no more."
"To make American bottoms worth while the whole of Europe will have tobe busy doing something else with their ships."
"All right! Then they'll be doing it," returned Marston.
"It would have to be a war--a big war."
"Very well! Maybe that's the answer."
"But there never can be another big war. As a financier you know it."
"I have made some money by adhering to the hard and fast rules offinance. But I have made the most of my money by turning my back onthose rules and listening to my instinct," was Marston's rejoinder. "Idon't want to over-influence you, gentlemen. I don't care to discuss anyfurther what you may consider to be dreams. I am not predicting a greatwar in Europe. Common sense argues the other way. But I am going intothis ship-merger proposition with every ounce of brains and energy andcapital I possess. The man who gets in my way is trying to keep thesetwo hands of mine off millions!" He shook his clutched fists abovehis head. "And I'll walk over him, by the gods! whether it's Tuckeror anybody else. We have had some good talks on the subject, firstand last. I'm starting now to fight and smash opposition. What do youpropose to do in the matter, gentlemen?"
They were silent for a time, looking at one another, querying withoutwords. Then out of their knowledge of Julius Marston's uncannyabilities, remembering their past successes, came resolve.
"We're in with you to the last dollar," they assured him, one after theother.
"Very well! You're wise!"
He unlocked a drawer of his desk and secured a code-book. He pressed abuzzer and the secretary came hurrying from his stateroom.
"We'll open action, gentlemen, with a little long-distance skirmish overthe wire."
He began to dictate his telegrams.