CHAPTER XXXV
_In Which Many Things Happen: Old Tom Topsail Declares Himself the Bully to Do It, Mrs. Skipper William Bounds Down the Path With a Boiled Lobster, the Mixed Accommodation Sways, Rattles, Roars, Puffs and Quits on a Grade in the Wilderness, Tom Topsail Loses His Way in the Fog and Archie Armstrong Gets Despairing Ear of a Whistle_
At Ruddy Cove, that night, when Archie was landed from the _Wind andTide_, a turmoil of amazement instantly gave way to the very briskestconsultation the wits of the place had ever known.
"There's no punt can make Burnt Bay the night," Billy Topsail's fatherdeclared.
"Nor the morrow night if the wind changes," old Jim Grimm added.
"Nor the next in a southerly gale," Job North put in.
"There's the _Wind an' Tide_," Tom Topsail suggested.
"She's a basket," said Archie; "and she's slower than a paddlepunt."
"What's the weather?"
"Fair wind for Burnt Bay an' a starlit night."
"I've lost the express," said Archie, excitedly. "I must--I _must_, Itell you!--I must catch the mixed."
The Ruddy Cove faces grew long.
"I must," Archie repeated between his teeth.
The east-bound cross-country express would go through the littlesettlement of Burnt Bay in the morning. The mixed accommodation wouldcrawl by at an uncertain hour of the following day. It was now thenight of the twenty-ninth of August. One day--two days. The mixedaccommodation would leave Burnt Bay for St. John's on the thirty-firstof August.
"If she doesn't forget," said Job North, dryly.
"Or get tired an' rest too often," Jim Grimm added.
Archie caught an impatient breath.
"Look you, lad!" Tom Topsail declared, jumping up. "I'm the bully thatwill put you aboard!"
Archie flung open the door of Mrs. Skipper William's kitchen and madefor the Topsail wharf with old Tom puffing and lumbering at his heels.Billy Topsail's mother was hailed with the news. Before Tom had wellmade the punt shipshape for a driving cruise up the Bay she was on thewharf with a bucket of hardtack and a kettle of water. A franticscream--perhaps, a shout--announced the coming of Mrs. Skipper Williamwith a ham-bone and a greatcoat. These tossed inboard, she roared acommand to delay, gathered up her skirts and fled into the night,whence she emerged, bounding, with a package of tea and a boiledlobster. She had no breath left to bid them Godspeed when Tom Topsailcast off; but she waved her great soft arms, and her portly personshook with the violence of her good wishes. And up went the sail--andout fluttered the little jib--and the punt heeled to the harbourbreeze--and Tom Topsail and Archie Armstrong darted away from thelights of Ruddy Cove towards the open sea.
* * * * *
The mixed accommodation, somewhere far back in the Newfoundlandwilderness, came to the foot of a long grade. She puffed and valiantlychoo-chooed. It was desperately hard work to climb that hill. A manmight have walked beside her while she tried it. But she surmountedthe crest, at last, and, as though immensely proud of herself, rattleddown towards the boulder-strewn level at an amazing rate of speed. Onshe went, swaying, puffing, roaring, rattling, as though she had nointention whatever of coming to a stop before she had brought her fivehundred mile run to a triumphant conclusion in the station at St.John's.
Even the engineer was astonished.
"Doin' fine," thought the fireman, proud of his head of steam.
"She'll make up them three hours afore mornin'," the engineer hoped.
On the next grade the mixed accommodation lagged. It was a steepgrade. She seemed to lose enthusiasm with every yard of puffingprogress. She began to pant--to groan--to gasp with horrible fatigue.Evidently she fancied it a cruel task to be put to. And the grade waslong--and it was outrageously steep--and they had overloaded thelittle engine with freight cars--and she wasn't yet half-way up. Itwould take the heart out of any engine. But she buckled to, once more,and trembled and panted and gained a yard or two. It was hard work; itwas killing work. It was a ghastly outrage to demand such effort of_any_ engine, most of all of a rat-trap attached to a mixedaccommodation on an ill-graded road. The Rat-Trap snorted herindignation. She howled with agony and despair.
And then she quit.
"What's the matter now?" a passenger asked the conductor, in a coachfar in the rear.
"Looks to me as if we'd have to uncouple and run on to the next sidingwith half the train," the conductor replied. "But it _may_ be thefire-box."
"What's the matter with the fire-box?"
"She has a habit of droppin' out," said the conductor.
"We'll be a day late in St. John's," the passenger grumbled.
The conductor laughed. "You will," said he, "if the trouble is withthe fire-box."
* * * * *
While the mixed accommodation was panting on the long grade, TomTopsail's punt, Burnt Bay bound, was splashing through a choppy sea,humoured along by a clever hand and a heart that understood her whims.It was blowing smartly; but the wind was none too much for the tinycraft, and she was making the best of it. At this rate--with neitherchange nor failure of the wind--Tom Topsail would land ArchieArmstrong in Burnt Bay long before the accommodation had begun tothink of achieving that point in her journey across the island. Therewas no failure of the wind as the night spent itself; it blew true andfair until the rosy dawn came softly out of the east. The boy awokefrom a long doze to find the punt overhauling the first barren islandsof the long estuary at the head of which the Burnt Bay settlement issituated.
With the most favourable weather there was a day's sailing and moreyet to be done.
"How's the weather?" was Archie's first question.
"Broodin'," Tom Topsail drawled.
Archie could find no menace in the dawn.
"Jus' broodin'," Topsail repeated.
Towards night it seemed that a change and a gale of wind might behatched by the brooding day. The wind fluttered to the east and blewup a thickening fog.
"We've time an' t' spare," said Topsail, in the soggy dusk. "Leave usgo ashore an' rest."
They landed, presently, on a promising island, and made a roaringfire. The hot tea and the lobster and the hard-bread--and the talesof Topsail--and the glow and warmth of the fire--were grateful toArchie. He fell sound asleep, at last, with his greatcoat over him;and Tom Topsail was soon snoring, too. In the meantime the mixedaccommodation, back in the wilderness, had surmounted the grade, haddropped three heavy cars at a way station, and was rattling on her waytowards Burnt Bay with an energy and determination that surprised herweary passengers and could only mean that she was bound to make up atleast some lost time or explode in the attempt.
* * * * *
Morning came--it seemed to Archie Armstrong that it never wouldcome--morning came in a thick fog to Tom Topsail and the lad. In ageneral way Tom Topsail had his bearings, but he was somewhat doubtfulabout trusting to them. The fog thickened with an easterly wind. Itblew wet and rough and cold. The water, in so far as it could be seenfrom the island, was breaking in white-capped waves; and an easterlywind was none of the best on the Burnt Bay course. But Tom Topsail andArchie put confidently out. The mixed accommodation was not due atBurnt Bay until 12:33. She would doubtless be late; she was alwayslate. There was time enough; perhaps there would be time and to spare.The wind switched a bit to the south of east, however, and becamenearly adverse; and down came the fog, thick and blinding. A hundredislands, and the narrowing main-shore to port and starboard, werewiped out of sight. There were no longer landmarks.
"Man," Tom Topsail declared, at last, "I don't know where I is!"
"Drive on, Tom," said Archie.
The punt went forward in a smother of water.
"Half after eleven," Archie remarked.
Tom Topsail hauled the sheet taut to pick up another puff of wind. Anhour passed. Archie had lost the accommodation if she were on
time.
"They's an island dead ahead," said Tom. "I feels it. Hark!" he added."Does you hear the breakers?"
Archie could hear the wash of the sea.
"Could it be Right-In-the-Way?" Tom Topsail wondered. "Or is itMind-Your-Eye Point?"
There was no help in Archie.
"If 'tis Right-In-the-Way," said Tom, "I'd have me bearin's. 'Tis amarvellous thick fog, this," he complained.
Mind-Your-Eye is a point of the mainland.
"I'm goin' ashore t' find out," Tom determined.
Landed, however, he could make nothing of it. Whether Right-In-the-Way,an island near by Burnt Bay, or Mind-Your-Eye, a long projection ofthe main-shore, there was no telling. The fog hid all outlines. Ifit were Right-In-the-Way, Tom Topsail could land Archie in Burnt Baywithin half an hour; if it were Mind-Your-Eye point--well, maybe.
"Hark!" Tom exclaimed.
Archie could hear nothing.
"Did you not hear it?" said Tom.
"What, man? Hear _what_?"
"_That!_" Tom ejaculated.
Archie heard the distant whistle of a train.
"I knows this place," Tom burst out, in vast excitement. "'TisMind-Your-Eye. They's a cut road from here t' the railway. 'Tis buthalf a mile, lad."
Followed by Archie, Tom Topsail plunged into the bush. They did notneed to be told that the mixed accommodation was labouring on a steepgrade from Red Brook Bridge. They did not need to be told that alittle fire, builded by the track before she ran past, a flaringsignal in the fog, would stop her. With them it was merely a problemof getting to the track in time to start that fire.
CHAPTER XXXVI
_And Last: In Which Archie Armstrong Hangs His Head in His Father's Office, the Pale Little Clerk Takes a Desperate Chance, Bill o' Burnt Bay Loses His Breath, and there is a Grand Dinner in Celebration of the Final Issue, at Which the Amazement of the Crew of the "Spot Cash" is Equalled by Nothing in the World Except Their Delight_
It was the first of September. A rainy day, this, in St. John's: thewind in the east, thick fog blowing in from the open. Sir Archibald'sgrate was crackling in its accustomed cheerful way. Rain lashed theoffice windows at intervals; a melancholy mist curtained the harbourfrom view. Sir Archibald was anxious. He drummed on the desk with hisfinger-tips; he paced the office floor, he scowled, he pursed hislips, he dug his restless hands deep in his pockets. The expected hadnot happened. It was now two o'clock. Sir Archibald was used to goinghome at three. And it was now two o'clock--no, by Jove! it was eightafter. Sir Archibald walked impatiently to the window. It was evidentthat the fog was the cause of his impatience. He scowled at it. No,no (thought he); no schooner could make St. John's harbour in a foglike that. And the winds of the week had been fair winds from theFrench Shore. Still the expected had not happened. _Why_ had theexpected not happened?
A pale little clerk put his head in at the door in a very doubtfulway.
"Skipper of the _Black Eagle_, sir," said he. "Clerk, too," he added.
"Show 'em in," Sir Archibald growled.
What happened need not be described. It was both melancholy and stormywithout; there was a roaring tempest within. Sir Archibald was notused to giving way to aggravation; but he was now presently embarkedon a rough sea of it, from which, indeed, he had difficulty inreaching quiet harbour again. It was not the first interview he hadhad with the skipper and clerk of the _Black Eagle_ since that trimcraft had returned from the French Shore trade. But it turned out tobe the final one. The books of the _Black Eagle_ had been examined;her stores had been appraised, her stock taken, her fish weighed. Andthe result had been so amazing that Sir Archibald had not only beenmystified but enraged. It was for this reason that when SkipperGeorge Rumm, with Tommy Bull, the rat-eyed little clerk, left thepresence of Sir Archibald Armstrong, the prediction of the clerk hadcome true: there were two able-bodied seamen looking for a berth onthe streets of St. John's. First of all, however, they set aboutfinding Tom Tulk o' Twillingate; but this, somehow or other, thediscreet Tom Tulk never would permit them to do.
* * * * *
By Sir Archibald's watch it was now exactly 2:47. Sir Archibald rosefrom the chair that was his throne.
"I'm sorry," he sighed. "I had hoped----"
Again the pale little clerk put his head in at the door. This time hewas grinning shamelessly.
"Well?" said Sir Archibald. "What is it?"
"Master Archie, sir."
Archie shook hands with his father in a perfunctory way. SirArchibald's cheery greeting--and with what admiration and affectionand happiness his heart was filled at that moment!--Sir Archibald'scheery greeting failed in his throat. Archie was prodigiouslyscowling. This was no failure of affection; nor was it an evil regardtowards his creditor, who would have for him, as the boy well knew,nothing but the warmest sympathy. It was shame and sheer despair. Inevery line of the boy's drawn face--in his haggard eyes and tremblinglips--in his dejected air--even in his dishevelled appearance (as SirArchibald sadly thought)--failure was written. What the nature of thatfailure was Sir Archibald did not know. How it had come about he couldnot tell. But it _was_ failure. It was failure--and there was no doubtabout it. Sir Archibald's great fatherly heart warmed towards the boy.He did not resent the brusque greeting; he understood. And SirArchibald came at that moment nearer to putting his arms about his bigson in the most sentimental fashion in the world than he had come in agood many years.
"Father," said Archie, abruptly, "please sit down."
Sir Archibald sat down.
"I owe you a thousand dollars, sir," Archie went on, coming close tohis father's desk and looking Sir Archibald straight in the eye. "Itis due to-day, and I can't pay it--now."
Sir Archibald would not further humiliate the boy by remitting thedebt. There was no help for Archie in this crisis. Nobody knew itbetter than Sir Archibald.
"I have no excuse, sir," said Archie, with his head half-defiantlythrown back, "but I should like to explain."
Sir Archibald nodded.
"I meant to be back in time to realize on--well--on those things youhave given me--on the yacht and the boat and the pony," Archie wenton, finding a little difficulty with a lump of shame in his throat;"but I missed the mail-boat at Ruddy Cove, and I----"
The pale little clerk once more put his sharp little face in at thedoor.
"Judd," said Sir Archibald, sternly, "be good enough not to interruptme."
"But, sir----"
"Judd," Sir Archibald roared, "shut that door!"
The pale little clerk took his life in his hands, and, turninginfinitely paler, gasped:
"Skipper of the _Spot Cash_ to see you, sir."
"WHAT!" shouted Archie.
Judd had fled.
"Skipper--of--the--_Spot--Cash_!" Archie muttered stupidly.
Indeed, yes. The hearty, grinning, triumphant skipper of the _SpotCash_! And more, too, following sheepishly in his wake: no less thanthe full complement of other members of the trading firm of Topsail,Armstrong, Grimm & Company, even to Donald North, who was winking withsurprise, and Bagg, the cook, ex-gutter-snipe from London, who couldnot wink at all from sheer amazement. And then--first thing ofall--Archie Armstrong and his father shook hands in quite another way.Whereupon this same Archie Armstrong (while Sir Archibald fairlybellowed with delighted laughter) fell upon Bill o' Burnt Bay, andupon the crew of the _Spot Cash_, right down to Bagg (who had least tolose), and beat the very breath out of their bodies in an hilariousexpression of joy.
* * * * *
"Dickerin'," Bill o' Burnt Bay explained, by and by.
"Dickering?" ejaculated Archie.
"Jus' simon-pure dickerin'," Bill o' Burnt Bay insisted, a bitindignantly.
And then it all came out--how that the Jolly Harbour wreckers had comeaboard to reason; how that Bill o' Burnt Bay, with a gun in one hand,was disposed to reason, and _did_ reason, and continued to reason,until
the Jolly Harbour folk began to laugh, and were in the endpersuaded to take a reasonable amount of merchandise from the depletedshelves (the whole of it) in return for their help in floating theschooner. It came out, too, how Billy Topsail had held the candle overthe powder-keg. It came out, moreover, how the crew of the _Spot Cash_had set sail from Jolly Harbour with a fair wind, how the wind hadprovidentially continued to blow fair and strong, how the _Spot Cash_had made the land-fall of St. John's before night of the day before,and how the crew had with their own arms towed her into harbour andhad not fifteen minutes ago moored her at Sir Archibald's wharf. Andloaded, sir--loaded, sir, with as fine a lot o' salt-cod as ever cameout o' White Bay an' off the French Shore! To all of which both SirArchibald and Archie listened with wide open eyes--the eyes of the boy(it may be whispered in strictest confidence) glistening with tears ofproud delight in his friends.
There was a celebration. Of _course_, there was a celebration! Tobe sure! This occurred when the load of the _Spot Cash_ had beenweighed out, and a discharge of obligation duly handed to the firmof Topsail, Armstrong, Grimm & Company, and the balance paid overin hard cash. Skipper Bill was promptly made a member of the firm tohis own great profit; and he was amazed and delighted beyondeverything but a wild gasp--and so was Billy Topsail--and so wasJimmie Grimm--and so was Donald North--and so was Bagg--so were theyall amazed, every one, when they were told that fish had gone tothree-eighty, and each found himself the possessor, in his ownright, free of all incumbrance, of one hundred and thirty-sevendollars and sixty-three cents. But this amazement was hardly equal tothat which overcame them when they sat down to dinner with Archie andSir Archibald and Lady Armstrong in the evening. Perhaps it was theshining plate--perhaps it was Lady Armstrong's sweet beauty--perhapsit was Sir Archibald's jokes--perhaps it was Archie Armstrong'sEton jacket and perfectly immaculate appearance--perhaps it was thepresence of his jolly tutor--perhaps it was the glitter and snowywhiteness and glorious bounty of the table spread before them--butthere was nothing in the whole wide world to equal the astonishment ofthe crew of the _Spot Cash_--nothing to approach it, indeed--excepttheir fine delight.
THE END
* * * * *
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