CHAPTER XXI
THE MAN IN THE SLOUCH HAT
The wooden arrow on the top of the cupola of the Life-Saving Stationhad had a busy night of it. With the going down of the sun the wind hadcontinued to blow east-southeast--its old course for weeks--and thelittle sentinel, lulled into inaction, had fallen into a doze, itsfeather end fixed on the glow of the twilight.
At midnight a rollicking breeze that piped from out the north caughtthe sensitive vane napping, and before the dawn broke had quite tiredit out, shifting from point to point, now west, now east, nownor'east-by-east, and now back to north again. By the time Morgan hadboiled his coffee and had cut his bacon into slivers ready for thefrying-pan the restless wind, as if ashamed of its caprices, had againveered to the north-east, and then, as if determined ever after to leada better life, had pulled itself together and had at last settled downto a steady blow from that quarter.
The needle of the aneroid fastened to the wall of the sitting-room, andin reach of everybody's eye, had also made a night of it. In fact, ithad not had a moment's peace since Captain Holt reset its register theday before. All its efforts for continued good weather had failed.Slowly but surely the baffled and disheartened needle had sagged from"Fair" to "Change," dropped back to "Storm," and before noon the nextday had about given up the fight and was in full flight for "Cyclonesand Tempests."
Uncle Isaac Polhemus, sitting at the table with one eye on his game ofdominoes (Green was his partner) and the other on the patch of skyframed by the window, read the look of despair on the honest face ofthe aneroid, and rising from his chair, a "double three" in his hand,stepped to where the weather prophet hung.
"Sompin's comin' Sam," he said solemnly. "The old gal's got a badsetback. Ain't none of us goin' to git a wink o' sleep to-night, or Imiss my guess. Wonder how the wind is." Here he moved to the door andpeered out. "Nor'-east and puffy, just as I thought. We're goin' to hevsome weather, Sam--ye hear?--some WEATHER!" With this he regained hischair and joined the double three to the long tail of his successes.Good weather or bad weather--peace or war--was all the same to UncleIsaac. What he wanted was the earliest news from the front.
Captain Holt took a look at the sky, the aneroid and the wind--not thearrow; old sea-dogs know which way the wind blows without depending onany such contrivance--the way the clouds drift, the trend of thewhite-caps, the set of a distant sail, and on black, almost breathlessnights, by the feel of a wet finger held quickly in the air, thecoolest side determining the wind point.
On this morning the clouds attracted the captain's attention. They hunglow and drifted in long, straggling lines. Close to the horizon theywere ashy pale; being nearest the edge of the brimming sea, they had,no doubt, seen something the higher and rosier-tinted clouds hadmissed; something of the ruin that was going on farther down the roundof the sphere. These clouds the captain studied closely, especially aprismatic sun-dog that glowed like a bit of rainbow snipped off bywind-scissors, and one or two dirt spots sailing along by themselves.
During the captain's inspection Archie hove in sight, wiping his handswith a wad of cotton waste. He and Parks had been swabbing out thefiring gun and putting the polished work of the cart apparatus in order.
"It's going to blow, captain, isn't it?" he called out. Blows were whatArchie was waiting for. So far the sea had been like a mill-pond,except on one or two occasions, when, to the boy's great regret,nothing came ashore.
"Looks like it. Glass's been goin' down and the wind has settled to thenor'east. Some nasty dough-balls out there I don't like. See 'em goin'over that three-master?"
Archie looked, nodded his head, and a certain thrill went through him.The harder it blew the better it would suit Archie.
"Will the Polly be here to-night?" he added. "Your son's coming, isn'the?"
"Yes; but you won't see him to-night, nor to-morrow, not till this isover. You won't catch old Ambrose out in this weather" (Captain AmbroseFarguson sailed the Polly). "He'll stick his nose in the basinsome'er's and hang on for a spell. I thought he'd try to make theinlet, and I 'spected Bart here to-night till I saw the glass when Igot up. Ye can't fool Ambrose--he knows. Be two or three days now 'foreBart comes," he added, a look of disappointment shadowing his face.
Archie kept on to the house, and the captain, after another sweeparound, turned on his heel and reentered the sitting-room.
"Green!"
"Yes, captain." The surfman was on his feet in an instant, his earswide open.
"I wish you and Fogarty would look over those new Costons and see ifthey're all right. And, Polhemus, perhaps you'd better overhaul themcork jackets; some o' them straps seemed kind o' awkward on practiceyesterday--they ought to slip on easier; guess they're considerabledried out and a little mite stiff."
Green nodded his head in respectful assent and left the room. Polhemus,at the mention of his name, had dropped his chair legs to the floor; hehad finished his game of dominoes and had been tilted back against thewall, awaiting the dinner-hour.
"It's goin' to blow a livin' gale o' wind, Polhemus," the captaincontinued; "that's what it's goin' to do. Ye kin see it yerself. Thereshe comes now!"
As he spoke the windows on the sea side of the house rattled as ifshaken by the hand of a man and as quickly stopped.
"Them puffs are jest the tootin' of her horn--" this with a jerk of hishead toward the windows. "I tell ye, it looks ugly!"
Polhemus gained his feet and the two men stepped to the sash and peeredout. To them the sky was always an open book--each cloud a letter, eachmass a paragraph, the whole a warning.
"But I'm kind o' glad, Isaac." Again the captain forgot the surfman inthe friend. "As long as it's got to blow it might as well blow now andbe over. I'd kind o' set my heart on Bart's comin', but I guess I'vewaited so long I kin wait a day or two more. I wrote him to come bytrain, but he wrote back he had a lot o' plunder and he'd better put it'board the Polly; and, besides, he said he kind o' wanted to sail intothe inlet like he used to when he was a boy. Then again, I couldn'tmeet him; not with this weather comin' on. No--take it all in all, I'mglad he ain't comin'."
"Well, I guess yer right, captain," answered uncle Isaac in an eventone, as he left the room to overhaul the cork jackets. The occasionwas not one of absorbing interest to Isaac.
By the time the table was cleared and the kitchen once more in ordernot only were the windows on the sea side of the house roughly shakenby the rising gale, but the sand caught from the dunes was beingwhirled against their panes. The tide, too, egged on by the storm, hadcrept up the slope of the dunes, the spray drenching the grass-tufts.
At five o'clock the wind blew forty miles an hour at sundown it hadincreased to fifty; at eight o'clock it bowled along at sixty. Morgan,who had been to the village for supplies, reported that the tide wasover the dock at Barnegat and that the roof of the big bathing-house atBeach Haven had been ripped off and landed on the piazza. He had hadall he could do to keep his feet and his basket while crossing themarsh on his way back to the station. Then he added:
"There's a lot o' people there yit. That feller from Philadelphy who'smashed on Cobden's aunt was swellin' around in a potato-bug suit o'clothes as big as life." This last was given from behind his hand afterhe had glanced around the room and found that Archie was absent.
At eight o'clock, when Parks and Archie left the Station to begin theirpatrol, Parks was obliged to hold on to the rail of the porch to steadyhimself, and Archie, being less sure of his feet, was blown against thewater-barrel before he could get his legs well under him. At the edgeof the surf the two separated for their four hours' patrol, Archiebreasting the gale on his way north, and Parks hurrying on, helped bythe wind, to the south.
At ten o'clock Parks returned. He had made his first round, and hadexchanged his brass check with the patrol at the next station. As hemounted the sand-dune he quickened his steps, hurried to the Station,opened the sitting-room door, found it empty, the men being in bedupstairs awaiting their turns, and then strode o
n to the captain'sroom, his sou'wester and tarpaulin drenched with spray and sand, hiship-boots leaving watery tracks along the clean floor.
"Wreck ashore at No. 14, sir!" Parks called out in a voice hoarse withfighting the wind.
The captain sprang from his cot--he was awake, his light still burning.
"Anybody drownded?"
"No, sir; got 'em all. Seven of 'em, so the patrol said. Come ashore'bout supper-time."
"What is she?"
"A two-master from Virginia loaded with cord-wood. Surf's in bad shape,sir; couldn't nothin' live in it afore; it's wuss now. Everything's abobble; turrible to see them sticks thrashin' 'round and slammin'things."
"Didn't want no assistance, did they?"
"No, sir; they got the fust line 'round the foremast and come off inless'n a hour; warn't none of 'em hurted."
"Is it any better outside?"
"No, sir; wuss. I ain't seen nothin' like it 'long the coast for years.Good-night," and Parks took another hole in the belt holding histarpaulins together, opened the back door, walked to the edge of thehouse, steadied himself against the clapboards, and boldly facing thestorm, continued his patrol.
The captain stretched himself again on his bed; he had tried to sleep,but his brain was too active. As he lay listening to the roar of thesurf and the shrill wail of the wind, his thoughts would revert to Bartand what his return meant; particularly to its effect on the fortunesof the doctor, of Jane and of Lucy.
Jane's attitude continued to astound him. He had expected that Lucymight not realize the advantages of his plan at first--not until shehad seen Bart and listened to what he had to say; but that Jane, afterthe confession of her own weakness should still oppose him, was what hecould not under stand, he would keep his promise, however, to the veryletter. She should have free range to dissuade Bart from his purpose.After that Bart should have his way. No other course was possible, andno other course either honest or just.
Then he went over in his mind all that had happened to him since theday he had driven Bart out into the night, and from that same House ofRefuge, too, which, strange to say, lay within sight of the Station. Herecalled his own and Bart's sufferings; his loneliness; the bitternessof the terrible secret which had kept his mouth closed all these years,depriving him of even the intimate companionship of his own grandson.With this came an increased love for the boy; he again felt the warmpressure of his hand and caught the look in his eyes the morning Archiecongratulated him so heartily on Bart's expected return, he had alwaysloved him; he would love him now a thousand times more when he couldput his hand on the boy's shoulder and tell him everything.
With the changing of the patrol, Tod and Polhemus taking the places ofArchie and Parks, he fell into a doze, waking with a sudden start somehours later, springing from his bed, and as quickly turning up the lamp.
Still in his stocking feet and trousers--on nights like this the menlie down in half their clothes--he walked to the window and peered out.It was nearing daylight; the sky still black. The storm was at itsheight; the roar of the surf incessant and the howl of the winddeafening. Stepping into the sitting-room he glanced at theaneroid--the needle had not advanced a point; then turning into thehall, he mounted the steps to the lookout in the cupola, walked softlypast the door of the men's room so as not to waken the sleepers,particularly Parks and Archie, whose cots were nearest the door--bothhad had four hours of the gale and would have hours more if itcontinued--and reaching the landing, pressed his face against the coolpane and peered out.
Below him stretched a dull waste of sand hardly distinguishable in thegloom until his eyes became accustomed to it, and beyond this the whiteline of the surf, whiter than either sky or sand. This writhed andtwisted like a cobra in pain. To the north burned Barnegat Light, onlythe star of its lamp visible. To the south stretched alternate bands ofsand, sky, and surf, their dividing lines lost in the night. Along thisbeach, now stopping to get their breath, now slanting the brim of theirsou'westers to escape the slash of the sand and spray, strode Tod andPolhemus, their eyes on and beyond the tumbling surf, their ears opento every unusual sound, their Costons buttoned tight under their coatsto keep them from the wet.
Suddenly, while his eyes were searching the horizon line, now hardlydiscernible in the gloom, a black mass rose from behind a cresting offoam, see-sawed for an instant, clutched wildly at the sky, and droppedout of sight behind a black wall of water. The next instant thereflashed on the beach below him, and to the left of the station, the redflare of a Coston signal.
With the quickness of a cat Captain Holt sprang to the stairs shouting:
"A wreck, men, a wreck!" The next instant he had thrown aside the doorof the men's room. "Out every one of ye! Who's on the beach?" And helooked over the cots to find the empty ones.
The men were on their feet before he had ceased speaking, Archie beforethe captain's hand had left the knob of the door.
"Who's on the beach, I say?" he shouted again.
"Fogarty and Uncle Ike," someone answered.
"Polhemus! Good! All hands on the cart, men; boat can't live in thatsurf. She lies to the north of us!" And he swung himself out of thedoor and down the stairs.
"God help 'em, if they've got to come through that surf!" Parks said,slinging on his coat. "The tide's just beginnin' to make flood, and allthat cord-wood'll come a-waltzin' back. Never see nothin' like it!"
The front door now burst in and another shout went ringing through thehouse:
"Schooner in the breakers!"
It was Tod. He had rejoined Polhemus the moment before he flared hislight and had made a dash to rouse the men.
"I seen her, Fogarty, from the lookout," cried the captain, in answer,grabbing his sou'wester; he was already in his hip-boots and tarpaulin."What is she?"
"Schooner, I guess, sir."
"Two or three masts?" asked the captain hurriedly, tightening the strapof his sou'wester and slipping the leather thong under his graywhiskers.
"Can't make out, sir; she come bow on. Uncle Ike see her fust." And hesprang out after the men.
A double door thrown wide; a tangle of wild cats springing straight ata broad-tired cart; a grappling of track-lines and handle-bars; a whirldown the wooden incline, Tod following with the quickly lightedlanterns; a dash along the runway, the sand cutting their cheeks likegrit from a whirling stone; over the dune, the men bracing the cart oneither side, and down the beach the crew swept in a rush to wherePolhemus stood waving his last Coston.
Here the cart stopped.
"Don't unload nothin'," shouted Polhemus. "She ain't fast; looks to meas if she was draggin' her anchors."
Captain Holt canted the brim of his sou'wester, held his bent elbowagainst his face to protect it from the cut of the wind, and looked inthe direction of the surfman's fingers. The vessel lay about a quarterof a mile from the shore and nearer the House of Refuge than when thecaptain had first seen her from the lookout. She was afloat anddrifting broadside on to the coast. Her masts were still standing andshe seemed able to take care of herself. Polhemus was right. Nothingcould be done till she grounded. In the meantime the crew must keepabreast of her. Her fate, however, was but a question of time, for notonly had the wind veered to the southward--a-dead-on-shore wind--butthe set of the flood must eventually strand her.
At the track-lines again, every man in his place, Uncle Isaac with hisshoulder under the spokes of the wheels, the struggling crew keepingthe cart close to the edge of the dune, springing out of the way of theboiling surf or sinking up to their waists into crevices of sluicewaysgullied out by the hungry sea. Once Archie lost his footing and wouldhave been sucked under by a comber had not Captain Holt grapped him bythe collar and landed him on his feet again. Now and then a roller morevicious than the others would hurl a log of wood straight at the cartwith the velocity of a torpedo, and swoop back again, the log missingits mark by a length.
When the dawn broke the schooner could be made out more clearly. Bothmasts were still standing, t
heir larger sails blown away. The bowspritwas broken short off close to her chains. About this dragged theremnants of a jib sail over which the sea soused and whitened. She wasdrifting slowly and was now but a few hundred yards from the beach,holding, doubtless, by her anchors. Over her deck the sea made a cleanbreach.
Suddenly, and while the men still tugged at the track-ropes, keepingabreast of her so as to be ready with the mortar and shot-line, theill-fated vessel swung bow on toward the beach, rose on a huge mountainof water, and threw herself headlong. When the smother cleared herforemast was overboard and her deck-house smashed. Around her hull thewaves gnashed and fought like white wolves, leaping high, flingingthemselves upon her. In the recoil Captain Holt's quick eye got aglimpse of the crew; two were lashed to the rigging and one held thetiller--a short, thickset man, wearing what appeared to be a slouch hattied over his ears by a white handkerchief.
With the grounding of the vessel a cheer went up from around the cart.
"Now for the mortar!"
"Up with it on the dune, men!" shouted the captain, his voice ringingabove the roar of the tempest.
The cart was forced up the slope--two men at the wheels, the othersstraining ahead--the gun lifted out and set, Polhemus ramming thecharge home, Captain Holt sighting the piece; there came a belchingsound, a flash of dull light, and a solid shot carrying a line rose inthe air, made a curve like a flying rocket, and fell athwart the wreckbetween her forestay and jib. A cheer went up from the men about thegun. When this line was hauled in and the hawser attached to it madefast high up on the mainmast and above the raging sea, and the car runoff to the wreck, the crew could be landed clear of the surf and theslam of the cord-wood.
At the fall of the line the man in the slouch hat was seen to edgehimself forward in an attempt to catch it. The two men in the riggingkept their hold. The men around the cart sprang for the hawser andtally-blocks to rig the buoy, when a dull cry rose from the wreck. Totheir horror they saw the mainmast waver, flutter for a moment, and sagover the schooner's side. The last hope of using the life-car was gone!Without the elevation of the mast and with nothing but the smashed hullto make fast to, the shipwrecked men would be pounded into pulp in theattempt to drag them through the boil of wreckage.
"Haul in, men!" cried the captain. "No use of another shot; we can'tdrag 'em through that surf!"
"I'll take my chances," said Green, stepping forward. "Let me, cap'n. Ican handle 'em if they haul in the slack and make fast."
"No, you can't," said the captain calmly. "You couldn't get twenty feetfrom shore. We got to wait till the tide cleans this wood out. It'sworkin' right now. They kin stand it for a while. Certain death tobring 'em through that smother--that stuff'd knock the brains out of'em fast as they dropped into it. Signal to 'em to hang on, Parks."
An hour went by--an hour of agony to the men clinging to the groundedschooner, and of impatience to the shore crew, who were powerless. Theonly danger was of exhaustion to the shipwrecked men and the breakingup of the schooner. If this occurred there was nothing left but aplunge of rescuing men through the surf, the life of every man in hishand.
The beach began filling up. The news of a shipwreck had spread with therapidity of a thunder-shower. One crowd, denser in spots where thestronger men were breasting the wind, which was now happily on thewane, were moving from the village along the beach, others werestumbling on through the marshes. From the back country, along the roadleading from the hospital, rattled a gig, the horse doing his utmost.In this were Doctor John and Jane. She had, contrary to his advice,remained at the hospital. The doctor had been awakened by the shouts ofa fisherman, and had driven with all speed to the hospital to get hisremedies and instruments. Jane had insisted upon accompanying him,although she had been up half the night with one of the sailors rescuedthe week before by the crew of No. 14. The early morning air--it wasnow seven o'clock--would do her good, she pleaded, and she might be ofuse if any one of the poor fellows needed a woman's care.
Farther down toward Beach Haven the sand was dotted with wagons andbuggies; some filled with summer boarders anxious to see the crew atwork. One used as the depot omnibus contained Max Feilding, Lucy, andhalf a dozen others. She had passed a sleepless night, and hearing thecries of those hurrying by had thrown a heavy cloak around her andopening wide the piazza door had caught sight of the doomed vesselfighting for its life. Welcoming the incident as a relief from her ownmaddening thoughts, she had joined Max, hoping that the excitementmight divert her mind from the horror that overshadowed her. Then, too,she did not want to be separated a single moment from him. Since thefatal hour when Jane had told her of Bart's expected return Max's facehad haunted her. As long as he continued to look into her eyes,believing and trusting in her there was hope. He had noticed herhaggard look, but she had pleaded one of her headaches, and had kept upher smiles, returning his caresses. Some way would be opened; some wayMUST be opened!
While waiting for the change of wind and tide predicted by Captain Holtto clear away the deadly drift of the cord-wood so dangerous to theimperilled men, the wreckage from the grounded schooner began to comeashore--crates of vegetables, barrels of groceries, and boxes filledwith canned goods. Some of these were smashed into splinters by end-oncollisions with cord-wood; others had dodged the floatage and werelanded high on the beach.
During the enforced idleness Tod occupied himself in rolling away fromthe back-suck of the surf the drift that came ashore. Being nearest astranded crate he dragged it clear and stood bending over it, readingthe inscription. With a start he beckoned to Parks, the nearest man tohim, tore the card from the wooden slat, and held it before thesurfman's face.
"What's this? Read! That's the Polly Walters out there, I tell ye, andthe captain's son's aboard! I've been suspicionin' it all the mornin'.That's him with the slouch hat. I knowed he warn't no sailor from theway he acted. Don't say nothin' till we're sure."
Parks lunged forward, dodged a stick of cord-wood that drove straightat him like a battering-ram and, watching his chance, dragged afloating keg from the smother, rolled it clear of the surf, canted iton end, and took a similar card from its head. Then he shouted with allhis might:
"It's the Polly, men! It's the Polly--the Polly Walters! O God, ain'tthat too bad! Captain Ambrose's drowned, or we'd a-seen him! Thatfeller in the slouch hat is Bart Holt! Gimme that line!" He wasstripping off his waterproofs now ready for a plunge into the sea.
With the awful words ringing in his ears Captain Holt made a springfrom the dune and came running toward Parks, who was now knotting theshot-line about his waist.
"What do you say she is?" he shouted, as he flung himself to the edgeof the roaring surf and strained his eyes toward the wreck.
"The Polly--the Polly Walters!"
"My God! How do ye know? She ain't left Amboy, I tell ye!"
"She has! That's her--see them kerds! They come off that stuff behindye. Tod got one and I got t'other!" he held the bits of cardboard underthe rim of the captain's sou'wester.
Captain Holt snatched the cards from Parks's hand, read them at aglance, and a dazed, horror-stricken expression crossed his face. Thenhis eye fell upon Parks knotting the shot-line about his waist.
"Take that off! Parks, stay where ye are; don't ye move, I tell ye."
As the words dropped from the captain's lips a horrified shout went upfrom the bystanders. The wreck, with a crunching sound, was beinglifted from the sand. She rose steadily, staggered for an instant anddropped out of sight. She had broken amidships. With the recoil tworagged bunches showed above the white wash of the water. On onefragment--a splintered mast--crouched the man with the slouch hat; tothe other clung the two sailors. The next instant a great roller,gathering strength as it came, threw itself full length on bothfragments and swept on. Only wreckage was left and one head.
With a cry to the men to stand by and catch the slack, the captainripped a line from the drum of the cart, dragged off his high boots,knotted the bight around his waist, and started
on a run for the surf.
Before his stockinged feet could reach the edge of the foam, Archieseized him around the waist and held him with a grip of steel.
"You sha'n't do it, captain!" he cried, his eyes blazing. "Hold him,men--I'll get him!" With the bound of a cat he landed in the middle ofthe floatage, dived under the logs, rose on the boiling surf, workedhimself clear of the inshore wreckage, and struck out in the directionof the man clinging to the shattered mast, and who was now nearing thebeach, whirled on by the inrushing seas.
Strong men held their breath, tears brimming their eyes. Captain Holtstood irresolute, dazed for the moment by Archie's danger. The beachwomen--Mrs. Fogarty among them--were wringing their hands. They knewthe risk better than the others.
Jane, at Archie's plunge, had run down to the edge of the surf andstood with tight-clenched fingers, her gaze fixed on the lad's head ashe breasted the breakers--her face white as death, the tears streamingdown her cheeks. Fear for the boy she loved, pride in his pluck andcourage, agony over the result of the rescue, all swept through her asshe strained her eyes seaward.
Lucy, Max, and Mrs. Coates were huddled together under the lee of thedune. Lucy's eyes were staring straight ahead of her; her teethchattering with fear and cold. She had heard the shouts of Parks andthe captain, and knew now whose life was at stake. There was no hopeleft; Archie would win and pull him out alive, and her end would come.
The crowd watched the lad until his hand touched the mast, saw him pullhimself hand over hand along its slippery surface and reach out hisarms. Then a cheer went up from a hundred throats, and as instantlydied away in a moan of terror. Behind, towering over them like a hugewall, came a wave of black water, solemn, merciless, uncrested, as ifbent on deadly revenge. Under its impact the shattered end of the mastrose clear of the water, tossed about as if in agony, veered suddenlywith the movement of a derrick-boom, and with its living freight dashedheadlong into the swirl of cord-wood.
As it ploughed through the outer drift and reached the inner line ofwreckage, Tod, whose eyes had never left Archie since his leap into thesurf, made a running jump from the sand, landed on a tangle of drift,and sprang straight at the section of the mast to which Archie clung.The next instant the surf rolled clear, submerging the three men.
Another ringing order now rose above the roar of the waters, and achain of rescuing surfmen--the last resort--with Captain Nat at thehead dashed into the turmoil.
It was a hand-to-hand fight now with death. At the first onslaught ofthe battery of wreckage Polhemus was knocked breathless by a blow inthe stomach and rescued by the bystanders just as a log was curlingover him. Green was hit by a surging crate, and Mulligan only savedfrom the crush of the cord-wood by the quickness of a fisherman.Morgan, watching his chance, sprang clear of a tangle of barrels andcord-wood, dashed into the narrow gap of open water, and grappling Todas he whirled past, twisted his fingers in Archie's waistband. Thethree were then pounced upon by a relay of fishermen led by Tod'sfather and dragged from under the crunch and surge of the smother. BothTod and Morgan were unhurt and scrambled to their feet as soon as theygained the hard sand, but Archie lay insensible where the men haddropped him, his body limp, his feet crumpled under him.
All this time the man in the slouch hat was being swirled in the hellof wreckage, the captain meanwhile holding to the human chain with onehand and fighting with the other until he reached the half-drowned manwhose grip had now slipped from the crate to which he clung. As the twowere shot in toward the beach, Green, who had recovered his breath,dodged the recoil, sprang straight for them, threw the captain a line,which he caught, dashed back and dragged the two high up on the beach,the captain's arm still tightly locked about the rescued man.
A dozen hands were held out to relieve the captain of his burden, buthe only waved them away.
"I'll take care of him!" he gasped in a voice almost gone frombuffeting the waves, as the body slipped from his arms to the wet sand."Git out of the way, all of you!"
Once on his feet, he stood for an instant to catch his breath, wrungthe grime from his ears with his stiff fingers, and then shaking thewater from his shoulders as a dog would after a plunge, he passed hisgreat arms once more under the bedraggled body of the unconscious manand started up the dune toward the House of Refuge, the water drippingfrom both their wet bodies. Only once did he pause, and then to shout:
"Green,--Mulligan! Go back, some o' ye, and git Archie. He's hurt bad.Quick, now! And one o' ye bust in them doors. And-- Polhemus, pull somecoats off that crowd and a shawl or two from them women if they canspare 'em, and find Doctor John, some o' ye! D'ye hear! DOCTOR JOHN!"
A dozen coats were stripped from as many backs, a shawl of Mrs.Fogarty's handed to Polhemus, the doors burst in and Uncle Isaaclunging in tumbled the garments on the floor. On these the captain laidthe body of the rescued man, the slouch hat still clinging to his head.
While this was being done another procession was approaching the house.Tod and Parks were carrying Archie's unconscious form, the waterdripping from his clothing. Tod had his hands under the boy's armpitsand Parks carried his feet. Behind the three walked Jane, halfsupported by the doctor.
"Dead!" she moaned. "Oh, no--no--no, John; it cannot be! Not my Archie!my brave Archie!"
The captain heard the tramp of the men's feet on the board floor of therunway outside and rose to his feet. He had been kneeling beside theform of the rescued man. His face was knotted with the agony he hadpassed through, his voice still thick and hoarse from battling with thesea.
"What's that she says?" he cried, straining his ears to catch Jane'swords. "What's that! Archie dead! No! 'Tain't so, is it, doctor?"
Doctor John, his arm still supporting Jane, shook his head gravely andpointed to his own forehead.
"It's all over, captain," he said in a broken voice. "Skull fractured."
"Hit with them logs! Archie! Oh, my God! And this man ain't much betteroff--he ain't hardly breathin'. See for yerself, doctor. Here, Tod, layArchie on these coats. Move back that boat, men, to give 'em room, andpush them stools out of the way. Oh, Miss Jane, maybe it ain't true,maybe he'll come round! I've seen 'em this way more'n a dozen times.Here, doctor let's get these wet clo'es off 'em." He dropped betweenthe two limp, soggy bodies and began tearing open the shirt from theman's chest. Jane, who had thrown herself in a passion of grief on thewater-soaked floor beside Archie, commenced wiping the dead boy's facewith her handkerchief, smoothing the short wet curls from his foreheadas she wept.
The man's shirt and collar loosened, Captain Holt pulled the slouch hatfrom his head, wrenched the wet shoes loose, wrapped the cold feet inthe dry shawl, and began tucking the pile of coats closer about theman's shoulders that he might rest the easier. For a moment he lookedintently at the pallid face smeared with ooze and grime, and limp bodythat the doctor was working over, and then stepped to where Tod nowcrouched beside his friend, the one he had loved all his life. Theyoung surfman's strong body was shaking with the sobs he could nolonger restrain.
"It's rough, Tod," said the captain, in a choking voice, which grewclearer as he talked on. "Almighty rough on ye and on all of us. Youdid what you could--ye risked yer life for him, and there ain't nobodykin do more. I wouldn't send ye out again, but there's work to do. Themtwo men of Cap'n Ambrose's is drowned, and they'll come ashoresome'er's near the inlet, and you and Parks better hunt 'em up. Theylive up to Barnegat, ye know, and their folks'll be wantin' 'em." Itwas strange how calm he was. His sense of duty was now controlling him.
Tod had raised himself to his feet when the captain had begun to speakand stood with his wet sou'wester in his hand.
"Been like a brother to me," was all he said, as he brushed the tearsfrom his eyes and went to join Parks.
The captain watched Tod's retreating figure for a moment, and bendingagain over Archie's corpse, stood gazing at the dead face, his handsfolded across his girth--as one does when watching a body being slowlylowered into a grave.
"I lov
ed ye, boy," Jane heard him say between her sobs. "I loved ye!You knowed it, boy. I hoped to tell ye so out loud so everybody couldhear. Now they'll never know."
Straightening himself up, he walked firmly to the open door about whichthe people pressed, held back by the line of surfmen headed byPolhemus, and calmly surveyed the crowd. Close to the opening, tryingto press her way in to Jane, his eyes fell on Lucy. Behind her stoodMax Feilding.
"Friends," said the captain, in a low, restrained voice, every trace ofhis grief and excitement gone, "I've got to ask ye to git considerableway back and keep still. We got Doctor John here and Miss Jane, andthere ain't nothin' ye kin do. When there is I'll call ye. Polhemus,you and Green see this order is obeyed."
Again he hesitated, then raising his eyes over the group nearest thedoor, he beckoned to Lucy, pushed her in ahead of him, caught theswinging doors in his hands, and shut them tight. This done, he againdropped on his knees beside the doctor and the now breathing man.
CHAPTER XXII
THE CLAW OF THE SEA-PUSS
With the closing of the doors the murmur of the crowd, the dull glareof the gray sky, and the thrash of the wind were shut out. The onlylight in the House of Refuge now came from the two small windows, oneabove the form of the suffering man and the other behind the dead bodyof Archie. Jane's head was close to the boy's chest, her sobs comingfrom between her hands, held before her face. The shock of Archie'sdeath had robbed her of all her strength. Lucy knelt beside her, hershoulder resting against a pile of cordage. Every now and then shewould steal a furtive glance around the room--at the boat, at therafters overhead, at the stove with its pile of kindling--and a slightshudder would pass through her. She had forgotten nothing of the past,nor of the room in which she crouched. Every scar and stain stood outas clear and naked as those on some long-buried wreck dug from shiftingsands by a change of tide.
A few feet away the doctor was stripping the wet clothes from therescued man and piling the dry coats over him to warm him back to life.His emergency bag, handed in by Polhemus through the crack of theclosed doors, had been opened, a bottle selected, and some spoonfuls ofbrandy forced down the sufferer's throat. He saw that the sea-water hadnot harmed him; it was the cordwood and wreckage that had crushed thebreath out of him. In confirmation he pointed to a thin streak of bloodoozing from one ear. The captain nodded, and continued chafing theman's hands--working with the skill of a surfman over the water-soakedbody. Once he remarked in a half-whisper--so low that Jane could nothear him:
"I ain't sure yet, doctor. I thought it was Bart when I grabbed himfust; but he looks kind o' different from what I expected to see him.If it's him he'll know me when he comes to. I ain't changed so muchmaybe. I'll rub his feet now," and he kept on with his work ofresuscitation.
Lucy's straining ears had caught the captain's words of doubt, but theygave her no hope. She had recognized at the first glance the man of allothers in the world she feared most. His small ears, the way the hairgrew on the temples, the bend of the neck and slope from the chin tothe throat. No--she had no misgivings. These features had been part ofher life--had been constantly before her since the hour Jane had toldher of Bart's expected return. Her time had come; nothing could saveher. He would regain consciousness, just as the captain had said, andwould open those awful hollow eyes and would look at her, and then thatdreadful mouth, with its thin, ashen lips, would speak to her, and shecould deny nothing. Trusting to her luck--something which had neverfailed her--she had continued in her determination to keep everythingfrom Max. Now it would all come as a shock to him, and when he askedher if it was true she could only bow her head.
She dared not look at Archie--she could not. All her injustice to himand to Jane; her abandonment of him when a baby; her neglect of himsince, her selfish life of pleasure; her triumph over Max--all cameinto review, one picture after another, like the unrolling of a chart.Even while her hand was on Jane's shoulder, and while comforting wordsfell from her lips, her mind and eyes were fixed on the face of the manwhom the doctor was slowly bringing back to life.
Not that her sympathy was withheld from Archie and Jane. It was herterror that dominated her--a terror that froze her blood and cloggedher veins and dulled every sensibility and emotion. She was like onelowered into a grave beside a corpse upon which every moment the earthwould fall, entombing the living with the dead.
The man groaned and turned his head, as if in pain. A convulsivemovement of the lips and face followed, and then the eyes partly opened.
Lucy clutched at the coil of rope, staggered to her feet, and bracedherself for the shock. He would rise now, and begin staring about, andthen he would recognize her. The captain knew what was coming; he waseven now planning in his mind the details of the horrible plot of whichJane had told her!
Captain Holt stooped closer and peered under the half-closed lids.
"Brown eyes," she heard him mutter to himself, "just 's the Swede toldme." She knew their color; they had looked into her own too often.
Doctor John felt about with his hand and drew a small package ofletters from inside the man's shirt. They were tied with a string andsoaked with salt water. This he handed to the captain.
The captain pulled them apart and examined them carefully.
"It's him," he said with a start, "it's Bart! It's all plain now.Here's my letter," and he held it up. "See the printing at thetop--'Life-Saving Service'? And here's some more--they're all stucktogether. Wait! here's one--fine writing." Then his voice dropped sothat only the doctor could hear: "Ain't that signed 'Lucy'?Yes--'Lucy'--and it's an old one."
The doctor waved the letters away and again laid his hand on thesufferer's chest, keeping it close to his heart. The captain bentnearer. Jane, who, crazed with grief, had been caressing Archie's coldcheeks, lifted her head as if aware of the approach of some crisis, andturned to where the doctor knelt beside the rescued man. Lucy leanedforward with straining eyes and ears.
The stillness of death fell upon the small room. Outside could be heardthe pound and thrash of the surf and the moan of the gale; no humanvoice--men and women were talking in whispers. One soul had gone to Godand another life hung by a thread.
The doctor raised his finger.
The man's face twitched convulsively, the lids opened wider, there camea short, inward gasp, and the jaw dropped.
"He's dead," said the doctor, and rose to his feet. Then he took hishandkerchief from his pocket and laid it over the dead man's face.
As the words fell from his lips Lucy caught at the wall, and with analmost hysterical cry of joy threw herself into Jane's arms.
The captain leaned back against the life-boat and for some moments hiseyes were fixed on the body of his dead son.
"I ain't never loved nothin' all my life, doctor," he said, his voicechoking, "that it didn't go that way."
Doctor John made no reply except with his eyes. Silence is ofttimesmore sympathetic than the spoken word. He was putting his remedies backinto his bag so that he might rejoin Jane. The captain continued:
"All I've got is gone now--the wife, Archie, and now Bart. I counted onthese two. Bad day's work, doctor--bad day's work." Then in a firmtone, "I'll open the doors now and call in the men; we got to git thesetwo bodies up to the Station, and then we'll get 'em home somehow."
Instantly all Lucy's terror returned. An unaccountable, unreasoningpanic took possession of her. All her past again rose before her. Shefeared the captain now more than she had Bart. Crazed over the loss ofhis son he would blurt out everything. Max would hear and know--knowabout Archie and Bart and all her life!
Springing to her feet, maddened with an undefinable terror, she caughtthe captain's hand as he reached out for the fastenings of the door.
"Don't--don't tell them who he is! Promise me you won't tell themanything! Say it's a stranger! You are not sure it's he--I heard yousay so!"
"Not say it's my own son! Why?" He was entirely unconscious of what wasin her mind.
Jane had risen to her feet
at the note of agony in Lucy's voice and hadstepped to her side as if to protect her. The doctor stood listening inamazement to Lucy's outbreak. He knew her reasons, and was appalled ather rashness.
"No! Don't--DON'T!" Lucy was looking up into the captain's face now,all her terror in her eyes.
"Why, I can't see what good that'll do!" For the moment he thought thatthe excitement had turned her head. "Isaac Polhemus'll know him," hecontinued, "soon's he sets his eyes on him. And even if I was meanenough to do it, which I ain't, these letters would tell. They've gotto go to the Superintendent 'long with everything else found on bodies.Your name's on some o' 'em and mine's on some others. We'll git 'emag'in, but not till Gov'ment see 'em."
These were the letters which had haunted her!
"Give them to me! They're mine!" she cried, seizing the captain'sfingers and trying to twist the letters from his grasp.
A frown gathered on the captain's brow and his voice had an ugly ringin it:
"But I tell ye the Superintendent's got to have 'em for a while. That'sregulations, and that's what we carry out. They ain't goin' to belost--you'll git 'em ag'in."
"He sha'n't have them, I tell you!" Her voice rang now with somethingof her old imperious tone. "Nobody shall have them. They're mine--notyours--nor his. Give them--"
"And break my oath!" interrupted the captain. For the first time herealized what her outburst meant and what inspired it.
"What difference does that make in a matter like this? Give them to me.You dare not keep them," she cried, tightening her fingers in theeffort to wrench the letters from his hand. "Sister--doctor--speak tohim! Make him give them to me--I will have them!"
The captain brushed aside her hand as easily as a child would brushaside a flower. His lips were tight shut, his eyes flashing.
"You want me to lie to the department?"
"YES!" She was beside herself now with fear and rage. "I don't care whoyou lie to! You brute--you coward-- I want them! I will have them!"Again she made a spring for the letters.
"See here, you she-devil. Look at me!"--the words came in cold, cuttingtones. "You're the only thing livin', or dead, that ever dared askNathaniel Holt to do a thing like that. And you think I'd do it tooblige ye? You're rotten as punk--that's what ye are! Rotten from yerkeel to yer top-gallant! and allus have been since I knowed ye!"
Jane started forward and faced the now enraged man.
"You must not, captain--you shall not speak to my sister that way!" shecommanded.
The doctor stopped between them: "You forget that she is a woman. Iforbid you to--"
"I will, I tell ye, doctor! It's true, and you know it." The captain'svoice now dominated the room.
"That's no reason why you should abuse her. You're too much of a man toact as you do."
"It's because I'm a man that I do act this way. She's done nothin' butbring trouble to this town ever since she landed in it from school nightwenty year ago. Druv out that dead boy of mine lyin' there, and made atramp of him; throwed Archie off on Miss Jane; lied to the man whomarried her, and been livin' a lie ever since. And now she wants me tobreak my oath! Damn her--"
The doctor laid his hand over the captain's mouth. "Stop! And I meanit!" His own calm eyes were flashing now. "This is not the place fortalk of this kind. We are in the presence of death, and--"
The captain caught the doctor's wrist and held it like a vice.
"I won't stop. I'll have it out--I've lived all the lies I'm goin' tolive! I told you all this fifteen year ago when I thought Bart wasdead, and you wanted me to keep shut, and I did, and you did, too, andyou ain't never opened your mouth since. That's because you're aman--all four square sides of ye. You didn't want to hurt Miss Jane,and no more did I. That's why I passed Archie there in the street;that's why I turned round and looked after him when I couldn't seesometimes for the tears in my eyes; and all to save that THING therethat ain't worth savin'! By God, when I think of it I want to tear mytongue out for keepin' still as long as I have!"
Lucy, who had shrunk back against the wall, now raised her head:
"Coward! Coward!" she muttered.
The captain turned and faced her, his eyes blazing, his rageuncontrollable:
"Yes, you're a THING, I tell ye!--and I'll say it ag'in. I used tothink it was Bart's fault. Now I know it warn't. It was yours. Youtricked him, damn ye! Do ye hear? Ye tricked him with yer lies and yerways. Now they're over--there'll be no more lies--not while I live! I'mgoin' to strip ye to bare poles so's folks 'round here kin see. Git outof my way--all of ye! Out, I tell ye!"
The doctor had stepped in front of the infuriated man, his back to theclosed door, his open palm upraised.
"I will not, and you shall not!" he cried. "What you are about do to isruin--for Lucy, for Jane, and for little Ellen. You cannot--you shallnot put such a stain upon that child. You love her, you--"
"Yes--too well to let that woman touch her ag'in if I kin help it!" Thefury of the merciless sea was in him now--the roar and pound of thesurf in his voice. "She'll be a curse to the child all her days; she'llgo back on her when she's a mind to just as she did on Archie. Thereain't a dog that runs the streets that would 'a' done that. She didn'tkeer then, and she don't keer now, with him a-lyin' dead there. Sheain't looked at him once nor shed a tear. It's too late. All hell can'tstop me! Out of my way, I tell ye, doctor, or I'll hurt ye!"
With a wrench he swung back the doors and flung himself into the light.
"Come in, men! Isaac, Green--all of ye--and you over there! I gotsomething to say, and I don't want ye to miss a word of it! You, too,Mr. Feilding, and that lady next ye--and everybody else that kin hear!
"That's my son, Barton Holt, lyin' there dead! The one I druv out o'here nigh twenty year ago. It warn't for playin' cards, but on accountof a woman; and there she stands--Lucy Cobden! That dead boy beside himis their child--my own grandson, Archie! Out of respect to the bestwoman that ever lived, Miss Jane Cobden, I've kep' still. If anybodyain't satisfied all they got to do is to look over these letters.That's all!"
Lucy, with a wild, despairing look at Max, had sunk to the floor andlay cowering beneath the lifeboat, her face hidden in the folds of hercloak.
Jane had shrunk back behind one of the big folding doors and stoodconcealed from the gaze of the astonished crowd, many of whom werepressing into the entrance. Her head was on the doctor's shoulder, herfingers had tight hold of his sleeve. Doctor John's arms were about herfrail figure, his lips close to her cheek.
"Don't, dear--don't," he said softly. "You have nothing to reproachyourself with. Your life has been one long sacrifice."
"Oh, but Archie, John! Think of my boy being gone! Oh, I loved him so,John!"
"You made a man of him, Jane. All he was he owed to you." He washolding her to him--comforting her as a father would a child.
"And my poor Lucy," Jane moaned on, "and the awful, awful disgrace!"Her face was still hidden in his shoulder, her frame shaking with theagony of her grief, the words coming slowly, as if wrung one by one outof her breaking heart.
"You did your duty, dear--all of it." His lips were close to her ear.No one else heard.
"And you knew it all these years, John--and you did not tell me."
"It was your secret, dear; not mine."
"Yes, I know--but I have been so blind--so foolish. I have hurt you sooften, and you have been so true through it all. O John, please--pleaseforgive me! My heart has been so sore at times--I have suffered so!"
Then, with a quick lifting of her head, as if the thought alarmed her,she asked in sudden haste:
"And you love me, John, just the same? Say you love me, John!"
He gathered her closer, and his lips touched her cheek:
"I never remember, my darling, when I did not love you. Have you everdoubted me?"
"No, John, no! Never, never! Kiss me again, my beloved. You are all Ihave in the world!"
THE END
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