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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/23674-h.zip b/23674-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..c95a036 --- /dev/null +++ b/23674-h.zip diff --git a/23674-h/23674-h.htm b/23674-h/23674-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..0ef1f2b --- /dev/null +++ b/23674-h/23674-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,6571 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=ISO-8859-1" /> +<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Swept Out to Sea, by W. Bertram Foster</title> + <style type="text/css"> + /*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ + <!-- + p {margin-top: 0.5em; text-align: justify; margin-bottom: 0.5em;} + body {margin-left: 11%; margin-right: 10%;} + table {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; clear: both;} + h2 {text-align: center; margin-top: 3em; margin-bottom: 2em; clear: both;} + a {text-decoration: none;} + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + table p {text-align: center; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0;} + h2.toc {margin-top: 1em;} + td.tdright {vertical-align: top; text-align: right;} + td.tdleft {vertical-align: top; text-align: left;} + td.tdcenter {vertical-align: top; text-align: center;} + .caption {font-size: 80%;} + .figcenter {margin: auto; text-align: center;} + .center {text-align:center;} + .pagenum {display: inline; font-size: x-small; text-align: right; + position: absolute; right: 2%; border:1px solid #eee; + padding: 1px 3px; font-style: normal; + font-variant:normal; font-weight:normal; text-decoration: none; + color: silver; background-color: inherit;} + hr.major {width: 65%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 2em;} + hr.dashed {width: 100%; margin-top: 1em; margin-bottom: 1em; border:none; border-bottom:1px dashed;} + hr.full { width: 100%; + margin-top: 3em; + margin-bottom: 0em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + height: 4px; + border-width: 4px 0 0 0; /* remove all borders except the top one */ + border-style: solid; + border-color: #000000; + clear: both; } + pre {font-size: 85%;} + // --> + /* XML end ]]>*/ + </style> +</head> +<body> +<h1 class="center">The Project Gutenberg eBook, Swept Out to Sea, by W. Bertram Foster</h1> +<pre> +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at <a href = "http://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a></pre> +<p>Title: Swept Out to Sea</p> +<p> Clint Webb Among the Whalers</p> +<p>Author: W. Bertram Foster</p> +<p>Release Date: December 2, 2007 [eBook #23674]</p> +<p>Language: English</p> +<p>Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1</p> +<p>***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SWEPT OUT TO SEA***</p> +<p> </p> +<h3 class="center">E-text prepared by Roger Frank<br /> + and the Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team<br /> + (http://www.pgdp.net)</h3> +<p> </p> +<hr class="full" /> +<p> </p> + +<div class='figcenter' style='width:308px'> +<a name='illus-000' id='illus-000'></a> +<img src='images/illus-fpc.jpg' alt='I Caught Sight of a Big Ship With a Wonderful Lot of Canvas Set' title='' width='308' /><br /> +<table summary='' class='caption' style='width:308px'> + <tr><td colspan='2' class='smcap'>I Caught Sight of a Big Ship With a Wonderful Lot of Canvas Set</td></tr> + <tr><td align='left'>(Swept Out to Sea)</td><td align='right'>(Chapter 28)</td></tr> +</table> +</div> + +<hr class='dashed' /> + +<table style='margin: auto; border: black 1px solid; width:25em' summary=''><tr><td> +<p style='font-size:2.0em; margin-top:1.5em;'>Swept Out to Sea</p> +<p style='font-size:1em;'>Or</p> +<p style='font-size:1.4em;'>Clint Webb</p> +<p style='font-size:1.4em; margin-bottom:2em;'>Among the Whalers</p> +<p style='font-size:0.8em;'>By</p> +<p style='font-size:1.2em; margin-bottom:2em;'>W. BERT FOSTER</p> +<p style='font-size:0.8em; margin-bottom:1em;'>Author of</p> +<p style='font-size:0.8em;'>The Frozen Ship; or, Clint Webb Among the Sealers. From</p> +<p style='font-size:0.8em;'>Sea to Sea; or, Clint Webb on the Windjammer.</p> +<p style='font-size:0.8em;'>The Ocean Express; or, Clint Webb</p> +<p style='font-size:0.8em; margin-bottom:2em;'>and the Sea Tramp</p> +<div class='figcenter'><img src='images/illus-emb.png' alt='emblem' /></div> +<p style='font-size:1.0em;margin-top:2em;'>Chicago</p> +<p style='font-size:1.0em; margin-bottom:2em;'>M. A. Donohue & Co.</p> +</td></tr></table> + +<hr class='dashed' /> + +<p class='center' style='margin: 2em auto 2em auto; font-size:smaller;'>COPYRIGHT 1913<br /> +BY M. A. DONOHUE & COMPANY</p> + +<hr class='dashed' /> + +<h2 class='toc'><a name='Contents' id='Contents'></a>Contents</h2> +<table border='0' width='500' cellpadding='2' cellspacing='0' summary='Contents' style='margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto'> +<col style='width:15%;' /> +<col style='width:5%;' /> +<col style='width:70%;' /> +<col style='width:10%;' /> +<tr> +<td align='right'><span style='font-size:x-small'>CHAPTER</span></td> +<td></td> +<td></td> +<td align='right'><span style='font-size:x-small'>PAGE</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class='tdright'>I</td> + <td class='tdcenter'>—</td> + <td class='tdleft'>In Which My Cousin and I Have a Serious Falling Out</td> + <td class='tdright'><a href='#In_Which_My_Cousin_and_I_have_a_Serious_Falling_Out_147'>7</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class='tdright'>II</td> + <td class='tdcenter'>—</td> + <td class='tdleft'>In Which is Shown the Result of a Bad Beginning</td> + <td class='tdright'><a href='#In_Which_Is_Shown_the_Result_of_a_Bad_Beginning_340'>15</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class='tdright'>III</td> + <td class='tdcenter'>—</td> + <td class='tdleft'>In Which I Am Anxious to Learn the Particulars of a Matter of Fourteen Years Standing</td> + <td class='tdright'><a href='#In_Which_I_am_Anxious_to_Learn_the_Particulars_of_a_Matter_of_Fourteen_Years_Standing_502'>22</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class='tdright'>IV</td> + <td class='tdcenter'>—</td> + <td class='tdleft'>In Which Ham Mayberry Reveals His Suspicions</td> + <td class='tdright'><a href='#In_Which_Ham_Mayberry_Reveals_His_Suspicions_790'>34</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class='tdright'>V</td> + <td class='tdcenter'>—</td> + <td class='tdleft'>In Which the Old Coachman Goes Somewhat Into Details</td> + <td class='tdright'><a href='#In_Which_the_Old_Coachman_Goes_Somewhat_Into_Details_997'>43</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class='tdright'>VI</td> + <td class='tdcenter'>—</td> + <td class='tdleft'>In Which is Related a Conversation With My Mother</td> + <td class='tdright'><a href='#In_Which_Is_Related_a_Conversation_With_My_Mother_1125'>49</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class='tdright'>VII</td> + <td class='tdcenter'>—</td> + <td class='tdleft'>In Which I Put Two and Two Together—and Sleep Aboard the <i>Wavecrest</i></td> + <td class='tdright'><a href='#In_Which_I_Put_Two_and_Two_Togethermdashand_Sleep_Aboard_the_Wavecrest_1323'>57</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class='tdright'>VIII</td> + <td class='tdcenter'>—</td> + <td class='tdleft'>In Which an Expected Comedy Proves to Be a Tragedy</td> + <td class='tdright'><a href='#In_Which_An_Expected_Comedy_Proves_To_Be_a_Tragedy_1492'>65</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class='tdright'>IX</td> + <td class='tdcenter'>—</td> + <td class='tdleft'>In Which I See the Day Dawn Upon a Deserted Ocean</td> + <td class='tdright'><a href='#In_Which_I_See_the_Day_Dawn_Upon_a_Deserted_Ocean_1647'>72</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class='tdright'>X</td> + <td class='tdcenter'>—</td> + <td class='tdleft'>In Which I Find a Most Remarkable Haven</td> + <td class='tdright'><a href='#In_Which_I_Find_a_Most_Remarkable_Haven_1850'>82</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class='tdright'>XI</td> + <td class='tdcenter'>—</td> + <td class='tdleft'>In Which I Am a Terrified Witness of a Wonderful Phenomenon</td> + <td class='tdright'><a href='#In_Which_I_Am_a_Terrified_Witness_of_a_Wonderful_Phenomenon_2053'>92</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class='tdright'>XII</td> + <td class='tdcenter'>—</td> + <td class='tdleft'>In Which I Find Myself Bound For Southern Seas</td> + <td class='tdright'><a href='#In_Which_I_Find_Myself_Bound_for_Southern_Seas_2363'>107</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class='tdright'>XIII</td> + <td class='tdcenter'>—</td> + <td class='tdleft'>In Which Tom Anderly Relates a Story That Arouses My Interest</td> + <td class='tdright'><a href='#In_Which_Tom_Anderly_Relates_A_Story_That_Arouses_My_Interest_2617'>119</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class='tdright'>XIV</td> + <td class='tdcenter'>—</td> + <td class='tdleft'>In Which I Hear For the First Time the Whaler’s Battle-Cry</td> + <td class='tdright'><a href='#In_Which_I_Hear_for_the_First_Time_the_Whalers_BattleCry_2940'>133</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class='tdright'>XV</td> + <td class='tdcenter'>—</td> + <td class='tdleft'>In Which We “Strike on”</td> + <td class='tdright'><a href='#In_Which_We_Strike_On_3131'>142</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class='tdright'>XVI</td> + <td class='tdcenter'>—</td> + <td class='tdleft'>In Which There is Some Information and Much Excitement</td> + <td class='tdright'><a href='#In_Which_There_Is_Some_Information_and_Much_Excitement_3318'>150</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class='tdright'>XVII</td> + <td class='tdcenter'>—</td> + <td class='tdleft'>In Which I Come Very Near Going Out of the Story</td> + <td class='tdright'><a href='#In_Which_I_Come_Very_Near_Going_Out_of_the_Story_3523'>159</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class='tdright'>XVIII</td> + <td class='tdcenter'>—</td> + <td class='tdleft'>In Which We Realize the “Grind” of the Whaleman’s Life</td> + <td class='tdright'><a href='#In_Which_We_Realize_the_Grind_of_the_Whalemans_Life_3628'>164</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class='tdright'>XIX</td> + <td class='tdcenter'>—</td> + <td class='tdleft'>In Which is Reported a Series of Misadventures</td> + <td class='tdright'><a href='#In_Which_Is_Reported_a_Series_of_Misadventures_3817'>172</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class='tdright'>XX</td> + <td class='tdcenter'>—</td> + <td class='tdleft'>In Which our Chapter of Bad Luck is Continued</td> + <td class='tdright'><a href='#In_Which_Our_Chapter_of_Bad_Luck_Is_Continued_4012'>180</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class='tdright'>XXI</td> + <td class='tdcenter'>—</td> + <td class='tdleft'>In Which the <i>Wavecrest</i> Sets Sail Again</td> + <td class='tdright'><a href='#In_Which_the_Wavecrest_Sets_Sail_Again_4148'>186</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class='tdright'>XXII</td> + <td class='tdcenter'>—</td> + <td class='tdleft'>In Which We Sail the Silver River and I See a Face I Know</td> + <td class='tdright'><a href='#In_Which_We_Sail_the_Silver_River_and_I_See_a_Face_I_Know_4303'>193</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class='tdright'>XXIII</td> + <td class='tdcenter'>—</td> + <td class='tdleft'>In Which I Begin to Wonder “Is it Me, Or is it Not Me?”</td> + <td class='tdright'><a href='#In_Which_I_Begin_to_Wonder_Is_It_Me_or_Is_It_Not_Me_4428'>198</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class='tdright'>XXIV</td> + <td class='tdcenter'>—</td> + <td class='tdleft'>In Which I Get Acquainted with Captain Adoniram Tugg</td> + <td class='tdright'><a href='#In_which_I_Get_Acquainted_With_Captain_Adoniram_Tugg_4692'>208</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class='tdright'>XXV</td> + <td class='tdcenter'>—</td> + <td class='tdleft'>In Which I Follow the Beckoning Finger of a Spectre</td> + <td class='tdright'><a href='#In_Which_I_Follow_the_Beckoning_Finger_of_a_Spectre_4903'>215</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class='tdright'>XXVI</td> + <td class='tdcenter'>—</td> + <td class='tdleft'>In Which the Sea Spell Goes Ashore on a Most Unfriendly Coast</td> + <td class='tdright'><a href='#In_Which_the_Sea_Spell_Goes_Ashore_on_a_Most_Unfriendly_Coast_5099'>222</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class='tdright'>XXVII</td> + <td class='tdcenter'>—</td> + <td class='tdleft'>In Which We Find the Natives More Unfriendly Than the Coast</td> + <td class='tdright'><a href='#In_Which_We_Find_the_Natives_More_Unfriendly_Than_the_Coast_5377'>232</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class='tdright'>XXVIII</td> + <td class='tdcenter'>—</td> + <td class='tdleft'>In Which are Related Several Disappointments</td> + <td class='tdright'><a href='#In_Which_Are_Related_Several_Disappointments_5578'>239</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class='tdright'>XXIX</td> + <td class='tdcenter'>—</td> + <td class='tdleft'>In Which I Am Not the Only Person Surprised</td> + <td class='tdright'><a href='#In_Which_I_Am_Not_the_Only_Person_Surprised_5730'>245</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class='tdright'>XXX</td> + <td class='tdcenter'>—</td> + <td class='tdleft'>In Which I At Last Set My Face Homeward with Determination</td> + <td class='tdright'><a href='#In_Which_I_at_Last_Set_My_Face_Homeward_with_Determination_5946'>253</a></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<hr class='dashed' /> + +<p class='center' style='margin-top:2em;'> +<span style='font-size:2em;'>Swept Out to Sea</span><br /> +<span style='font-size:1.2em;'>or</span><br /> +<span style='font-size:1.4em;'>Clint Webb Among the Whalers</span></p> + +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_7' id='pg_7'>7</a></span> +<a name='In_Which_My_Cousin_and_I_have_a_Serious_Falling_Out_147' id='In_Which_My_Cousin_and_I_have_a_Serious_Falling_Out_147'></a> +<p class='center' style='font-variant:small-caps; font-size:large;'>Chapter I</p> +<p class='center' style='margin: 0 20% 0 20%; font-size:large'><i>In Which My Cousin and I have a Serious Falling Out</i></p> +</div> + +<p>The wind had died to just a breath, barely filling the canvas of the +<i>Wavecrest</i>. We were slowly making the mouth of the inlet at Bolderhead +after a day’s fishing. Occasionally as the fitful breeze swooped down +the sloop made a pretty little run, then she’d sulk, with the sail +flapping, till another puff came. I lay in the stern with my hand on the +tiller, half asleep, while Paul Downes, my cousin, was stretched forward +of the mast, wholly in dreamland. A little roll of the sloop as she +tacked, almost threw him into the water and he awoke with a snarl and +sat up.</p> + +<p>“For goodness sake! aren’t we in yet?” he demanded, crossly. “What you +been doing for the last hour Clint Webb? We’re <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_8' id='pg_8'>8</a></span>no nearer the inlet now +than we were then, I swear!”</p> + +<p>That was a peculiarity about Paul. He was addicted to laying the faults +of even inanimate objects to the charge of other people; and as for +himself personally, he was never in the wrong! Now he felt that he must +have somebody on whom to vent his vexation—and hunger; I was used to +being that scapegoat, and it was seldom that I paid much attention to +his snarling. On this particular occasion, I said, calmly:</p> + +<p>“Now, Paul, you know very well that I hold no position with the +Meteorological Bureau, and therefore you shouldn’t lay the sins of the +weather to me.”</p> + +<p>“Huh! ain’t you smart?” he grunted.</p> + +<p>You see, Paul had awakened in rather a quarrelsome frame of mind +while—well, I was hungry, too (it was long past our dinner hour) and so +felt in a tantalizing mood. If we had not been at just these odds on +this lovely September evening, the incidents which follow might never +have occurred. Out of this foolish beginning of a quarrel came a chain +of circumstances which entirely changed the current of my life. Had I +held my tongue I would have been saved much sorrow and peril, and many, +many regrets.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_9' id='pg_9'>9</a></span>“I’m smart—I admit it,” said I, cooly; “but I can’t govern the wind. +We’ll get in by bedtime.”</p> + +<p>“And nothing to eat aboard,” growled Paul.</p> + +<p>“There’s the fish <i>you</i> caught,” said I, chuckling.</p> + +<p>Paul had had abominable luck all day, the only thing he landed being +what we Bolderhead boys called a “grunter”—a frog-mouthed fish of most +unpleasant aspect and of absolutely no use as food. All it did when he +shook it off his hook in disgust was to swell up like a toy balloon and +emit an objective grunt whenever it was poked. Funny, but these +“grunters” always reminded me of Paul.</p> + +<p>Now, at my suggestion, my cousin broke into another tirade of abuse of +the <i>Wavecrest</i>, and what he termed my carelessness. I didn’t care much +what he said about me, and I suppose there was some reason for his +criticism; I should not have gone outside the inlet without more than +just a bite of luncheon in the cuddy. But when he referred to my bonnie +sloop as “an old tub” and said it wasn’t rigged right and that I didn’t +know how to sail her, then—well, I leave it to you if it wouldn’t have +made you huffy? You <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_10' id='pg_10'>10</a></span>know how it is yourself. Wait till the next fellow +makes disparaging remarks about your bicycle, for instance or your motor +cycle, or canoe, or what-not, and see how you feel!</p> + +<p>“What’s the use of talking that way, Paul?” I demanded, interrupting +him. “You know the <i>Wavecrest</i> is by far the lightest-footed craft of +her class in Bolderhead Harbor.”</p> + +<p>“No such thing!” he declared. “She’s a measly, good-for-nothing old +tub.”</p> + +<p>“All I’ve got to say is that you’re a bad judge of tubs,” said I.</p> + +<p>“You’re a fool!” he exclaimed, and jumped up.</p> + +<p>“Now, you know, Paul, if your opinion was of any consequence at all I +should be angry,” I replied, still with exaggerated calmness.</p> + +<p>“I’m going to take the skiff and row ashore,” said he. “You can bring +your old tub in when you like.”</p> + +<p>“Thank you; but I guess not! I’d gladly be relieved of your company; but +I shall want to get ashore myself some time tonight,” I rejoined.</p> + +<p>“I tell you I’m going ashore!” cried Paul, coming aft to where the +painter was hitched.</p> + +<p>“Get away!” I commanded, my own temper rising. “You’re not going to +leave me <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_11' id='pg_11'>11</a></span>without means of landing after we reach our buoy.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, somebody will see you and take you off,” he said, selfishly.</p> + +<p>“Maybe somebody will; then again, maybe they won’t.”</p> + +<p>“I’ll come out for you after dinner,” he said, with a grin that I knew +meant he had no such intention.</p> + +<p>“Get away from that painter!” I commanded. “You forced your company on +me today—I didn’t invite you to go fishing—”</p> + +<p>“The sloop’s as much mine as yours,” he growled.</p> + +<p>“I’d like to know how you figure that out?” returned I, in amazement.</p> + +<p>“When your mother bought it she told father it was for us to use +together; but of course you always ‘hog’ everything.”</p> + +<p>Now I knew that my mother never would have said what he claimed; but I +was angry with her for the moment because of her good natured invitation +to Paul to use my personal property. The <i>Wavecrest</i> was my dearest +possession. As the saying is, there was more salt water in my veins than +blood; our folks had all been sailors—my father’s people, I mean—and I +was enamored of the sea and sea-going.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_12' id='pg_12'>12</a></span>When mother built our summer cottage on the Neck I knew how ’twould be. +I foresaw that her brother-in-law and his son (Aunt Alice was dead some +years then) would live with us about half the time; but that mother +should have said anything to give Paul ground for his statement, rasped +me sorely.</p> + +<p>“Let me tell you, Paul Downes,” said I, sharply, “that no person has any +right in this boat but myself, unless I invite them; and I’ll inform you +right now that this is the last trip you’ll ever take in her with my +permission.”</p> + +<p>“Is that so?” sneered Paul.</p> + +<p>“That’s so—and you can make the best of it.”</p> + +<p>“Well, who wants to go out in your old tub?” he burst forth. “Goodness +knows, I don’t. But I’m going ashore right now and you can come in when +you like.”</p> + +<p>He started to untie the painter. Somehow his perversity made me furious.</p> + +<p>“Drop it!” I repeated; “you’re not going to leave this sloop till I +do—unless you swim ashore.”</p> + +<p>“Well, you just try stopping me,” he snarled, his temper getting the +better for the moment of his usual caution. Paul was a <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_13' id='pg_13'>13</a></span>bigger and +heavier, as well as an older fellow than I; but he had never dared try +fisticuffs with me.</p> + +<p>I sprang up and let the tiller bang. Luckily there was so little wind +that the sloop took no harm. “Get away from there!” I cried.</p> + +<p>“I tell you I am going ashore now.”</p> + +<p>“You’re not.”</p> + +<p>“I am; and it won’t be healthy for you to try to stop me, Clint Webb.”</p> + +<p>I know very well that this is a bad way to begin my story; I expect you +will be disgusted with me right at the start. But what am I to do? I +have started out to narrate the incidents which occurred and the various +changes that have come into my life since this very September evening; +and truth compels me to begin with this quarrel. For from this time +dated the purpose which inspired my future life.</p> + +<p>So, I hope that the reader will bear with me, even though I introduce +much the worse side of my character first. Facts are stubborn things, +and I have in this introduction to set down some very stubborn and +unpleasant facts.</p> + +<p>I sprang up, as I say, and left the tiller, and as Paul seemed to have +no intention of obeying <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_14' id='pg_14'>14</a></span>me, I advanced upon him threateningly. We were +both enraged.</p> + +<p>“Take your hand off that rope,” said I, earnestly. “Get away! I mean +it.”</p> + +<p>His reply was a foul word. His eyes were blazing and he grew dark under +his skin like his father, as his wrath rose. I had always believed that +there was Indian blood in the veins of Mr. Chester Downes. I was so near +Paul that I had to step back to gather force for a blow, and as I +retreated he suddenly kicked me. It was a mean trick—a foul blow and +worthy of Paul Downes. Had I not stepped back as I did he might have +broken my shin bone, for he wore heavy boots. As it was, the toe of his +boot caught me just below the knee-cap and I could not stifle a cry of +pain.</p> + +<p>However, the kick did not stop the blow I landed straight from the +shoulder and it gave me some satisfaction, even at the time, to note +that Paul’s howl of agony was much louder than mine as he picked himself +up from the other end of the cockpit.</p> + +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='In_Which_Is_Shown_the_Result_of_a_Bad_Beginning_340' id='In_Which_Is_Shown_the_Result_of_a_Bad_Beginning_340'></a> +<p class='center' style='font-variant:small-caps; font-size:large;'>Chapter II</p> +<p class='center' style='margin: 0 20% 0 20%; font-size:large'><i>In Which Is Shown the Result of a Bad Beginning</i></p> +</div> + +<p>Paul’s face was convulsed with passion, and when he was in a rage he +lost all control to his tongue, using language that was simply frightful +from a boy brought up in a decent home. And at this particular time he +was so enraged that he forgot to be afraid! He rushed at me the instant +he regained his feet, his arms beating the air like those of a windmill. +He was a lubberly fellow at best and the sloop, with the tiller swinging +as it listed, was kicking and jumping like a restive pony. I squared off +at him in proper form, and when he came within reach I landed a second +blow which likewise sent him to the deck.</p> + +<p>I glanced hurriedly about. The <i>Wavecrest</i> was some distance from any of +the other craft beating into the harbor. The sun had set long since and +the moon, a great, round target of silver, was rising out of the sea, +its <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_16' id='pg_16'>16</a></span>light shimmering across the heaving liquid plain. A more peaceful +scene one could scarcely imagine, and somehow it took the heat of +passion out of me.</p> + +<p>“Hold on, Paul! we mustn’t fight like this,” I said, as he rose again, +the blood running from his nose and his cheek swollen as though he had a +walnut in it.</p> + +<p>“You’re goin’ to <i>crawl</i> now, are ye?” he yelled.</p> + +<p>“It’s foolish and wicked for us to act like this,” said I, hastily. +“What will your father and my mother say?”</p> + +<p>“I don’t care what they say!” he shouted, wildly. “I’ll make you wish +you’d never struck me, Clint Webb.”</p> + +<p>He sprang aft again. I caught the glimmer of moonlight upon something he +clutched in his hand. “What are you doing, Paul?” I cried.</p> + +<p>But he plunged toward me, his dark features writhing in passion. At the +moment Paul Downes was a murderer at heart; although I believed I could +beat him in any fair fight, the weapon in his hand frightened me.</p> + +<p>“Put it down, Paul! Put it down!” I begged of him. But he was on top of +me in a <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_17' id='pg_17'>17</a></span>breath and we rolled over and over in the sloop’s cockpit. Why +it was that he did not seriously injure me, I cannot tell to this day! +He struck at me viciously a dozen times; but by a miracle I escaped even +a scratch.</p> + +<p>Suddenly I caught his wrist, twisting it so that the open claspknife +shot out of his hand. The relief I felt at this must have renewed my +strength. In another instant I had rolled him over upon his face and +knelt upon him so that he could not move. There was a piece of codline +in my pocket and I had his wrists knotted behind him in short order—nor +was I particular whether I hurt him, or not! Then I stood up and rolled +him over with my foot.</p> + +<p>“There!” I panted; “if ever a fellow deserved jailing, you’re that +fellow, Paul Downes.”</p> + +<p>“I’ll fix you for this! I’ll fix you for this!” he kept blubbering.</p> + +<p>I was bruised and lame myself (especially where Paul had kicked me in +the leg) and now I discovered that my right coatsleeve was slit from the +shoulder to the wrist. I had just escaped suffering a dangerous wound.</p> + +<p>“Aren’t you a pretty fellow?” I said, showing him this rent.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_18' id='pg_18'>18</a></span>“I wish I’d got you!” he snarled so viciously that I was really +startled.</p> + +<p>“You won’t feel that way when you cool down,” I said.</p> + +<p>“I won’t cool down. I’ll get square with you for this if I wait ten +years,” he declared.</p> + +<p>“You’re for all the world like your father,” I said, hotly; “and he’s as +revengeful a person as I ever saw.”</p> + +<p>“Is that so?” retorted Paul. “Well, he isn’t like your father was—<i>he</i> +had to commit suicide to get out of trouble——”</p> + +<p>“What do you mean?” I cried, amazed.</p> + +<p>But Paul bit his lip and fell silent. He nevertheless looked at me with +so threatening a scowl that, had he not been tied hard and fast, I +should have been on the lookout for another cowardly attack.</p> + +<p>“What nonsense is that you said?” I repeated. “What do you know about my +father?”</p> + +<p>“Wouldn’t you like to know?” returned my cousin, sullenly.</p> + +<p>I recovered myself then, believing he was only trying to fret me. “You +needn’t talk nonsense,” I said. “If you mean to say that my father made +way with himself, why you’re simply silly! Everybody knows that he was +<span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_19' id='pg_19'>19</a></span>drowned while fishing, over there off White Rock.”</p> + +<p>“So everybody knows it, hey?” he responded, with a most exasperating air +of knowing something that <i>I</i> didn’t know. “All right. I’m glad that +folks know so much. But let me tell you, Clint Webb, that you and your +ma’d be paupers now if he hadn’t got drowned as he did. It was the only +thing he could do.”</p> + +<p>“You’d better drop it,” I advised him, scornfully. “You’d much better be +thinking of what will happen to you because of this evening’s work. You +can’t bother me by any such silly talk.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, I can’t hey?” he snarled in a tone that, defenceless as he was, +tempted me to kick him.</p> + +<p>But just then the sail of the sloop began to fill. I ran to the tiller +and brought her head around. A little breeze had sprung up and the +<i>Wavecrest</i> was under good way again. In a few moments we passed the +light at the entrance to the harbor, and tacked for our anchorage. My +mother’s property did not include shore rights, so we had no private +landing at which to tie the sloop, but moored her at a buoy in the quiet +cove near the ferry dock.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_20' id='pg_20'>20</a></span>“What do you mean to do with me?” asked Paul, having been mighty quiet +for the last few minutes.</p> + +<p>“I’m going to march you up to the house and hand you over to your +father. And if I have any influence with mother at all, both you and he +will pack your dunnage and leave in the morning.”</p> + +<p>He fell silent again until I had dropped the sail and picked up our +float. When the <i>Wavecrest</i> was fast he asked more meekly:</p> + +<p>“Aren’t you going to take this cord off my wrist?”</p> + +<p>“No. You’re going up to the house in just that fix.”</p> + +<p>“I won’t do it!” he cried with a sudden burst of rage.</p> + +<p>“Then you’ll stay here while I go up and tell them where you are.”</p> + +<p>He didn’t like that idea, either, and whined: “Don’t be so mean, Clint. +I don’t want to go up to the house this way. What will folks think?”</p> + +<p>“‘What will folks think?’” I repeated in amazement. “I s’pose that’s the +first thing you’d worried about if you’d cut me with that knife.”</p> + +<p>He said no more, but he gave me a threatening <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_21' id='pg_21'>21</a></span>look which, had I been of +a nervous temperament, might have kept me awake nights. When I drew the +tender alongside he stepped in without further urging and sat down in +the stern. I rowed ashore. Fortunately for the tender feelings of my +cousin there wasn’t a soul in sight when we landed. I fastened the boat, +and then, with the oars on my shoulder and the slack of the codline in +my hand, start him up the shell road.</p> + +<p>“Let me go, Clint,” he begged again.</p> + +<p>“Not for Joe!”</p> + +<p>“Then you’ll be sorry the longest day you live,” he cried, his ugly face +suddenly convulsed.</p> + +<p>And he was right; but I did not believe it at the time.</p> + +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='In_Which_I_am_Anxious_to_Learn_the_Particulars_of_a_Matter_of_Fourteen_Years_Standing_502' id='In_Which_I_am_Anxious_to_Learn_the_Particulars_of_a_Matter_of_Fourteen_Years_Standing_502'></a> +<p class='center' style='font-variant:small-caps; font-size:large;'>Chapter III</p> +<p class='center' style='margin: 0 20% 0 20%; font-size:large'><i>In Which I am Anxious to Learn the Particulars of a Matter of Fourteen Years Standing</i></p> +</div> + +<p>My mother’s summer home was built upon the highest point of Bolderhead +Neck and commanded a view of both the ocean and the inlet, or harbor, +around which Old Bolderhead was built.</p> + +<p>My mother’s early life had not been spent near the water; her people +dwelt inland. My maternal grandfather owned half a township and was a +very influential man. Naturally my mother had lived in affluence during +her girlhood and it was considered by her friends a great mistake on her +part when she married my father. He was a ship’s surgeon when they were +married and his only income was derived from the practise of his +profession. He established himself as a physician in Bolderhead after +the wedding; they lived simply, and I was their only child.</p> + +<p>Grandfather didn’t forgive mother for marrying a poor man. The old +gentleman didn’t <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_23' id='pg_23'>23</a></span>get along well with his relatives, anyway. He hadn’t +liked the man his oldest daughter married, Mr. Chester Downes. When I +grew old enough to understand the character of Mr. Downes I could not +blame grandfather for his bad opinion of the man! Aunt Alice dying +before grandfather, Mr. Downes could never hope to handle much of +grandfather’s money. There was a sum set aside for Paul in grandfather’s +will. And even that Mr. Downes could not touch; it was tied up until +Paul was of age. After several large charities had been remembered in +the will the residue of the property had come to my mother. As I +understood it I was but two years old when grandfather died, and my own +father was drowned three weeks after grandfather’s burial.</p> + +<p>We had gone to live at once in mother’s old home; but she had a tender +feeling for Bolderhead, and as I grew older and evinced such a love for +the sea, she had built our summer home here.</p> + +<p>Mother was one of those dependent, timid women, who seem unable to +decide any matter for themselves. Not that she wasn’t the very best +mother that ever lived! But she <i>was</i> easily influenced by other people. +As I grew <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_24' id='pg_24'>24</a></span>older and began to understand what went on more clearly, I +knew that Chester Downes possessed a stronger influence over mother than +was good for either her or me. He was her confidant in business matters, +too.</p> + +<p>Being brought up in the same inland town together, my cousin Paul and I +naturally saw a good deal of each other. Frankly I saw altogether too +much of him—and I told my mother so. But Mr. Downes was all the time +coming to the house—especially to the Bolderhead cottage—and bringing +Paul with him.</p> + +<p>I felt that they were steadily and insidiously influencing mother +against me. We were drifting apart. Mother had through them acquired the +belief that I was a rude and untrustworthy fellow, and she feared my +boatmen companions were weaning me from her. Whereas I kept away from +the house because the Downeses were there. I couldn’t stand so much of +them.</p> + +<p>But on this evening I was determined that matters should come to a head. +I saw my way clear, I believed, through Paul’s vicious attack upon me, +to rid the house of the Downeses for good and all.</p> + +<p>As we came up the hill I saw that my mother, and doubtless Mr. Downes, +were <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_25' id='pg_25'>25</a></span>in the drawing room. It was long past the dinner hour. I drove +Paul up onto the veranda and towards a French window that opened into +the illuminated room. He began to hang back again.</p> + +<p>“S’pose there’s somebody there?” he said.</p> + +<p>“That’ll be the worse for you,” I responded, callously. “Come on!”</p> + +<p>I unlatched the window, held aside the draperies, and pushed him into +the room before me. My mother and his father were the only persons +present.</p> + +<p>“Why, boys! how late you are,” said my pretty mother, looking up from +the lacework in her lap. Her fingers were always busy. “Were you +becalmed outside? You must be awfully hungry. Ring for James, Clinton, +and he will fix you up something nice in the pantry.” Then she saw +Paul’s bound wrists, his bruised face, and our disarranged clothing. +“What is the matter?” she cried, starting to her feet.</p> + +<p>Mr. Downes had observed us too, and he broke in with: “What is the +meaning of this outrage, Clinton Webb? My son’s wrists lashed together! +How dare you, sir?”</p> + +<p>“I tied him up, Mr. Downes,” I explained before Paul could get in a +word; “but I turn <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_26' id='pg_26'>26</a></span>him over to your now, sir, and if you wish to release +him you may.”</p> + +<p>“Why—why—Whoever heard of such insolence?” sputtered Mr. Downes. “You +see, Mary, what this young ruffian has done to poor Paul? Stand still, +will you?” he added, jerking Paul around as he tried to untie the cod +line. Paul began to snivel; I reckon his father pulled the line so tight +that it cut into the flesh.</p> + +<p>“See what he has done, Mary?” repeated my angry uncle, finally pulling +out his pocketknife and cutting the cord. “Look at Paul’s face! What +have I told you about that boy?” and he pointed a bony and accusing +index finger at me.</p> + +<p>“Clinton! Clinton!” cried mother. “What have you done?”</p> + +<p>Her question cut me to the quick. It showed me how deeply she had been +impressed by Mr. Downes’ calumnies. Her first thought was that I was at +fault—that I had been the aggressor.</p> + +<p>“You can see what I have done to him,” said I, a little sullenly, I +fear. “We got into a row on the boat coming in, and that is how he came +by his bruises. But I tied him up because I didn’t fancy being slit up +like a codfish <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_27' id='pg_27'>27</a></span>with this thing,” and I drew the claspknife—a regular +sailor’s “gully”—from my coat pocket and tossed it, open, upon the +table.</p> + +<p>Mother screamed and shuddered, and sank back into her chair again.</p> + +<p>“You needn’t be scared,” I said, more tenderly, crossing to her side and +putting my arm across her shoulders. “I’m not hurt at all. He only slit +my coat sleeve!”</p> + +<p>Mr. Downes glanced from his son’s swollen and disfigured face to my +flapping coatsleeve, and fear came into his own countenance. He knew +something about the ungovernable rages into which Paul frequently flew. +He was obliged to wet his lips with his tongue before he could speak:</p> + +<p>“You will not believe this horrible, scandalous story, Mary! +Why—why—The boy is beside himself!”</p> + +<p>“I think Paul was,” I said, gravely. “We were both angry—I admit that. +But I used nothing but my fists on him.”</p> + +<p>“Paul! Why don’t you speak up and deny this charge?”</p> + +<p>“I—I never struck him with the knife,” said my cousin, sullenly. +“He—he tied my arms and then he—he slit the coat himself. I—I never +touched him.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_28' id='pg_28'>28</a></span>He lied so clumsily that even my innocent and horrified mother could +not believe him. But Mr. Dowries tried to make out that he believed +Paul.</p> + +<p>“Listen to that, Mary!” he blustered. “Did you ever hear of such +depravity—such viciousness? A plot to ruin my boy in your eyes—a +cowardly plot!”</p> + +<p>“It is no plot, Mr. Downes, and you know it,” I said. “But I am going to +use the circumstance to a purpose which for some time I have longed to +accomplish. You and Paul will leave my mother’s house—and leave it at +once!”</p> + +<p>“Clinton!” gasped mother, seizing my hand.</p> + +<p>“There, Madam!” cried Mr. Downes, furiously. “He has just as good as +admitted it is a conspiracy. Nefarious! He has invented this story——”</p> + +<p>“Mr. Downes,” I interrupted, my anger rising, “you have done everything +you could to prejudice mother against me. Is it any wonder that I desire +to see the last of you and your precious son?”</p> + +<p>“Clinton! Clinton! My dear son,” mother begged. “Don’t be so +passionate.”</p> + +<p>“I never was more calm in my life,” I responded, firmly. “But these two +shall not <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_29' id='pg_29'>29</a></span>stay in our house another night, mother.”</p> + +<p>She burst into tears. Mr. Downes stepped nearer and his sneering look +would have enraged me at another time. But I felt that I had the +whip-hand and held myself in.</p> + +<p>“Fortunately,” he said, “your will, young man, is not law here. It is +not in your power to put us out of your mother’s home.”</p> + +<p>“You are mistaken,” I replied, still quietly. “I have that power.”</p> + +<p>“You are a minor, sir,” said Mr. Downes, loftily. “I brand your +ridiculous story as false. It would be quite within your character to +have cut your coat sleeve as Paul says. I will not even believe that +that is his knife——”</p> + +<p>He stretched out his hand to take it from the table but I was too quick +for him. “No, you don’t!” I said. “That is too valuable a bit of +evidence for you to get hold of. Even Paul will not deny owning the +knife. I know where he bought it and I can find the man who engraved his +initials on the blade.”</p> + +<p>“Very well planned indeed,” sneered Mr. Downes, but I sternly +interrupted:</p> + +<p>“Mr. Downes, again I tell you that you <i>must</i> leave this house. You and +Paul shall never again live under the same roof with me.”</p> + +<p>“When I hear your mother say this——”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_30' id='pg_30'>30</a></span>“This is a matter which my mother will not have to decide,” I assured +him, and without looking at her although I had returned to my place by +her side.</p> + +<p>“And why should we obey your behest, young man?”</p> + +<p>“If you don’t leave I shall go out at once and swear out a warrant +against Paul for assault with this knife. And I’ll have the warrant +served, too.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, Clinton!” sobbed my mother. “Don’t think of such a thing.”</p> + +<p>“As sure as I live it shall be done, unless they go.”</p> + +<p>“Think of the publicity!” said my mother, clinging to my hand.</p> + +<p>“Yes,” I rejoined, bitterly. “And think what might have happened if he’d +got me with that knife.”</p> + +<p>“You—you——” gasped Mr. Downes. “You are your father right over +again!”</p> + +<p>“Thank you; I consider that a compliment.”</p> + +<p>“You wouldn’t consider it such if you knew as much about him as I do,” +he muttered.</p> + +<p>“Now that will do!” I exclaimed, losing my self-control on the instant. +“I’ve heard enough insinuations regarding father from Paul tonight. I +won’t stand any more of that talk, I warn you both!”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_31' id='pg_31'>31</a></span>“Clinton!” murmured mother, with a very white face, while Downes turned +upon his son in a sudden rage.</p> + +<p>“What have you been saying—you fool?” he snarled. Paul was quite cowed +before his sudden wrath.</p> + +<p>“Paul may be diffident about saying,” I observed. “But I’ll tell you. He +says my father committed suicide, and that if he hadn’t done so my +mother and I would be paupers today.”</p> + +<p>I never saw a man’s countenance express such changes of emotion within +so short a time. From anger to fear—and back again—was such a swift +transition that it startled me. I began from that moment to wonder very +much what the mystery was which surrounded my father’s death fourteen +years before!</p> + +<p>But the next instant my attention was recalled to my mother. For a +moment she sat motionless. Now she started up from her chair with a +little cry.</p> + +<p>“What is it, mother?” I cried, in alarm. Had I not caught her she would +have fallen to the floor.</p> + +<p>“Now, see what you have done!” snarled Mr. Downes. “You have +over-excited her. Get out of the way, boy——”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_32' id='pg_32'>32</a></span>I gave him a look that halted him. Had he touched my mother then I +would have been at his throat! Exerting all my strength I picked her up +bodily and carried her to the nearest couch. The bell push was at hand +and I rang for her maid. The woman responded immediately and James was +right behind her in the hall.</p> + +<p>“Attend to your mistress, Marie,” I said. “And James!”</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir,” said the big butler, coming to the door.</p> + +<p>“Order the carriage at once and see that Mr. Downes’ bags are brought +down. They are leaving immediately.”</p> + +<p>The butler’s face was perfectly impassive. Mr. Downes broke into a nasty +laugh.</p> + +<p>“James will do nothing of the sort,” he said. “I think too much of my +sister to leave the house while she is so unwell. What do you think, +Marie? Is it serious? Shall I telephone for Dr. Eldridge?”</p> + +<p>“I do not know, Monsieur,” replied the French woman, anxiously. “She has +been frightened—ees eet not?”</p> + +<p>“This young reprobate would frighten anybody!” cried Mr. Downes, +blusteringly.</p> + +<p>“James,” I said again, “do as I have told <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_33' id='pg_33'>33</a></span>you. Tell Ham to bring the +carriage around inside of half an hour and to drive wherever Mr. Downes +shall direct. The ferry is not running at this hour, or I would not +trouble him.”</p> + +<p>The butler glanced from my mother’s death-white face to Mr. Downes. He +did not so much as favor me with a look, but with sphynx-like composure +left the room. To tell the truth I hadn’t the least idea whether he +would obey me, or Mr. Downes.</p> + +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='In_Which_Ham_Mayberry_Reveals_His_Suspicions_790' id='In_Which_Ham_Mayberry_Reveals_His_Suspicions_790'></a> +<p class='center' style='font-variant:small-caps; font-size:large;'>Chapter IV</p> +<p class='center' style='margin: 0 20% 0 20%; font-size:large'><i>In Which Ham Mayberry Reveals His Suspicions</i></p> +</div> + +<p>Mr. Downes continued to bluster and Paul hung sullenly about the drawing +room. I had got through with both of them, however. Whether the +butler—and the other servants—backed me up, or not, I believed that I +had the whip-hand.</p> + +<p>Marie helped me bear my mother to her room. It troubled me greatly to +see her pretty face so pale and deathlike, and her eyes closed. I +hurried to the telephone and called up Dr. Eldridge, who was an old +friend of our family as well as our physician. I felt better when I +heard his voice over the wire and knew that he would soon be at the +house.</p> + +<p>Then I turned to get my hat and coat. I looked into the drawing room to +give Mr. Downes one more chance. He had been talking to his son in a low +voice, but with emphasis; and I could see by Paul’s countenance <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_35' id='pg_35'>35</a></span>that +the “calling down” he had received from his father was a serious one.</p> + +<p>“I warn you for the last time, Mr. Downes, that I am going to Justice of +the Peace Ringold just as soon as the doctor gets here to attend my +mother,” I said.</p> + +<p>“You don’t dare do any such thing, you young scoundrel!” roared Mr. +Chester Downes, and he actually sprang across the room at me. He was a +tall and bony man and I knew very well that I should fare ill in his +hands. I dodged back, found the imperturbable James in my way and as I +sidestepped him, too, Mr. Downes came face to face with the impassive +butler in the doorway.</p> + +<p>“Beg pardon, sir,” James said, quietly. “Hamilton has the horses +harnessed and awaits your pleasure, sir.”</p> + +<p>“You—you—” stammered Mr. Downes, evidently as much surprised that the +butler had obeyed me as <i>I</i> could possibly be!</p> + +<p>“The carriage is waiting, sir,” explained James, just as though the +occasion was an ordinary one. “Shall I bring down your bags, sir?”</p> + +<p>“No! I don’t want our bags brought down!” cried Mr. Downes. “This is an +outrage. And let me tell you, you dunderhead,” <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_36' id='pg_36'>36</a></span>he added to James, “this +will cost you your position.”</p> + +<p>The butler’s voice did not change in the least. “Shall I bring down your +bags, sir?” he asked once more.</p> + +<p>“Yes!” cried Mr. Downes, changing his mind very suddenly. “We will go up +and pack them. But this is a sorry day for this house when we leave it +in such a way,” he said, his threat hissing through his clenched teeth +as his glowing eyes sought my face in the hall. “And it is a sorry day +for <i>you</i>, you young villain! Remember this.”</p> + +<p>“You threaten a good deal like your son, Mr. Downes,” I said, unable to +resist a mild “gloat.” “But he couldn’t carry out his threat; I wonder if +you will be better able to compass your revenge?”</p> + +<p>He said nothing further, but dashed up stairs. Paul lagged behind him +and James, without a word to me, and with the attitude and manner of the +well-trained servant, followed sedately and stood outside of their rooms +waiting for the bags.</p> + +<p>I stepped out upon the side porch and saw Ham Mayberry, our coachman (he +had driven my father in his little chaise the two years that he had +practised in Bolderhead) sitting upon <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_37' id='pg_37'>37</a></span>the box of the closed carriage. +Of all the people who worked for mother about the Bolderhead cottage, I +knew that Ham would take my part against the Downeses. Ham and I were +old cronies.</p> + +<p>And I believed that I could thank Ham for the butler’s espousal of my +cause on this present occasion. Ham had a deal of influence with the +other servants, having been with us before mother was willed the great +Darringford property.</p> + +<p>Ham turned his head when I called to him in a low voice.</p> + +<p>“Watch what they do and where they go, Ham,” I told him. “I want to see +you when you come back.”</p> + +<p>“Aye, aye, sir!” he returned in his sailorlike way; for in Bolderhead if +you ask your direction of a man on the street he’ll lay a course for you +as though you were at sea. Ham Mayberry, like most of the other male +inhabitants of the old town, had been a deep-sea sailor.</p> + +<p>I heard the quick, angry step of Mr. Downes descending the stairs then, +and I slipped out of the way. I didn’t want any more words with him, if +I could help. They were leaving the house—and I meant it should be for +good. That satisfied me.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_38' id='pg_38'>38</a></span>I heard Paul follow him out upon the porch, and then James came with +the baggage. The carriage rolled briskly away just as Dr. Eldridge’s +little electric wagon steamed up to the other door. The doctor—who was +a plump, bald, pink-faced man—trotted up the steps and I let him into +the house myself.</p> + +<p>“Well, well, Clint Webb!” he demanded. “What have you been doing to that +little mother of yours now?”</p> + +<p>But he said it in a friendly way. Dr. Eldridge knew well enough that I +never intended to cause mother a moment’s anxiety. And I believed that I +could take him into my confidence—to an extent, at least. I did not +tell him how Paul had tried to knife me in the <i>Wavecrest</i>; but I +repeated what had really caused my mother’s becoming so suddenly ill.</p> + +<p>“Ha!” he jerked out, as he got himself out of his tight, light overcoat +and picked up his case again from the hall settee. “The least said about +<i>that</i> time before her the better. Tut, tut! the least said the better.”</p> + +<p>And so saying he marched up stairs to her room, leaving me more eager +than ever to learn the particulars regarding my father’s death. Now, I +had lived some sixteen years <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_39' id='pg_39'>39</a></span>up to this very evening and had never +heard anything but the simplest and plainest story of my father’s +unfortunate death. But even the doctor spurred my awakened curiosity +now.</p> + +<p>What did it mean? I had been told by my mother, by Ham, and by other +people as I grew up, that Dr. Webb had rowed out in a dory to fish off +White Rock, a particularly good local fishing ground for blackfish. Some +hours later a passing fishing party discovered the empty dory, bobbing +up and down at the end of its kedge cable. The fishing lines were out. +My father’s hat was in the boat, and his watch lay upon a seat as though +he had taken it out and put it beside him so as not to forget when to +row back to attend to his patients. It was a fine timepiece, had +belonged to his father, and I wear it myself now on “state and date” +occasions.</p> + +<p>But the fishermen saw no other sign of the doctor. It was plain he had +fallen overboard. With the current as it is about White Rock it was no +wonder that the body was never recovered.</p> + +<p>The story seemed plain enough. There was nothing that could be added to +it. That there was any mystery about my father’s <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_40' id='pg_40'>40</a></span>death I could not +believe. And the suggestion that Paul Downes had made I utterly scoffed +at!</p> + +<p>Yet I wanted to see Ham Mayberry before I went to sleep that night.</p> + +<p>Dr. Eldridge came down after a long time, and his pink, fat face was +very serious. “How is she?” I asked him, eagerly.</p> + +<p>“She’s all right—for the night,” he replied. But his gravity did not +leave him—which was strange. The doctor was a most sanguine +practitioner and usually brought a spirit of cheerfulness with him into +any home where there was illness. “Clint,” he said, “you want to be +careful of that little mother of yours.”</p> + +<p>“My goodness, Doctor!” I exclaimed. “You don’t suppose that I had +anything to do with this business tonight? That I brought it about?”</p> + +<p>“If you have another row with your cousin—or words with his +father—have it all outside the house. She is in a very nervous state. +She must not be worried. Friction in the household is bad for her. +And—well, I’ll drop in again and see her tomorrow.”</p> + +<p>What he said frightened me. When he had gone I went up and tapped on the +door. <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_41' id='pg_41'>41</a></span>But Marie would not let me in the room.</p> + +<p>“She is resting now, Master Clin-tone,” said the French woman, and then +shut the door in my face.</p> + +<p>I couldn’t have slept then had I gone to bed. Beside, I was determined +to talk with Ham when he came back. I wandered down stairs again and +James, the butler, beckoned me into the dining room. At one end of the +table he had laid a cloth and he made me sit down and eat a very tasty +supper that had been prepared for me in the kitchen. This was an +attention I had not expected. It served to bolster up my belief that I +had some influence in my mother’s house, after all!</p> + +<p>By and by I heard Ham drive in and I went out to the stables. We kept no +footman, Ham doing all the stablework. I helped him unharness Bob and +Betty, while he told me where he had taken the Downeses. There was a +small hotel in the old part of the town, and my uncle and Paul had gone +there for the night.</p> + +<p>“They’ll probably attack the fortifications on the morrow, Master +Clint—or, them’s my prognostications,” remarked Ham, in conclusion.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_42' id='pg_42'>42</a></span>“Meaning they’ll come over here and try to see mother?” I asked.</p> + +<p>“I reckon.”</p> + +<p>“Then they’re not to be let in, Ham. I want them kept out. Dr. Eldridge +says she should not be disturbed. I mean to see that his orders are +obeyed.”</p> + +<p>“And I’m glad to see ye take the bit in your teeth, sir,” exclaimed the +coachman, with emphasis. “It’s time ye did so.”</p> + +<p>“What do you mean, Ham?” I demanded, curiously.</p> + +<p>The old man—he was past sixty, but hale and hearty still—came out of +Bob’s stall and put his grizzled face close to mine while he stared into +my eyes in the dim light of the stable lantern.</p> + +<p>“List ye, Master Clint,” he said. “’Tis my suspicion that that same +scaley Chester Downes has it in his mind to get rid of you—to put ye +away from your mother altogether—to make her believe ye air a bad egg, +in fact. ’Tis time he and that precious b’y of his was put off the +place. Ye’ve done right this night, Clint Webb, if ye never done so +before.”</p> + +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='In_Which_the_Old_Coachman_Goes_Somewhat_Into_Details_997' id='In_Which_the_Old_Coachman_Goes_Somewhat_Into_Details_997'></a> +<p class='center' style='font-variant:small-caps; font-size:large;'>Chapter V</p> +<p class='center' style='margin: 0 20% 0 20%; font-size:large'><i>In Which the Old Coachman Goes Somewhat Into Details</i></p> +</div> + +<p>Ordinarily it might seem that a servant taking it upon himself to so +plainly state his opinion of family matters, should be admonished. But +Hamilton Mayberry was just as much my friend as he was our hired +coachman. He had been my father’s friend. He had served in the same ship +as my father long before he came ashore to drive horses for Dr. Webb. +And I verily believe the old man loved me as though I were his own +blood.</p> + +<p>Anyhow, I was too excited and worried on this night to think of any +class distinction. Beside, among Bolderhead people, the master was +considered no better than the man—if both behaved themselves, were +honest, and attended church on the Sabbath!</p> + +<p>So I opened my heart to Ham as we sat with our backs against the +grain-chest, and told him all that had occurred on the <i>Wavecrest</i> as +she drifted into the harbor that evening, <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_44' id='pg_44'>44</a></span>and what had followed when I +brought Paul Downes home with his hands tied behind his back.</p> + +<p>“But what is puzzling me, Ham,” I said, in conclusion, looking sideways +into his shrewdly puckered face, “is what those Downes meant by hinting +that there was something queer about father’s death.”</p> + +<p>“Huh!” grunted Ham.</p> + +<p>“What made that crazy Paul say he committed suicide, and that if he +hadn’t we’d have been paupers?”</p> + +<p>“Huh!” said Ham again.</p> + +<p>“And why should such a foolish remark,” I added, “have frightened +mother? For that is what brought about her fainting fit, I verily +believe.”</p> + +<p>“Huh!” said the coachman for a third time, and then I got mad.</p> + +<p>“Stop that, Ham!” I cried. “Don’t you go about trying to mystify me. I +want to know what they meant. I intend to find out what they meant. If +you have any suspicion, tell it out.”</p> + +<p>“Well, Master Clint,” he said gravely, “I don’t blame you for being +angry.”</p> + +<p>“Or being puzzled, either?” I put in.</p> + +<p>“No, sir; nor for being puzzled. And I’m <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_45' id='pg_45'>45</a></span>some puzzled myself. But I +reckon Paul Downes was jest repeatin’ what he’d heard his father say.”</p> + +<p>“That my poor father had to jump overboard from his dory, to save +himself from trouble and mother and I from poverty? Why, it’s +preposterous!” I cried.</p> + +<p>“So it is, sir,” Ham assured me. “So it is. And nobody believes +it—nobody that’s got anything inside their heads but sawdust.”</p> + +<p>I started and grasped him by the arm. “Do you mean,” I said, “that there +<i>was</i> any such story told when my father was lost at sea?”</p> + +<p>“Well, sir, you know that an oak-ball will smoke when you bust it atwixt +your fingers—but there ain’t no fire in it,” grunted Ham, +philosophically. “Folk says that there can’t be smoke without some fire. +The oak-ball disproves it. And it’s so with gossip. Gossip is the only +thing that don’t really need a beginning. It’s hatched without the sign +of an egg——”</p> + +<p>“Oh, hang your platitudes, Ham!” I cried. “Do you mean that there ever +<i>was</i> such a story circulated?”</p> + +<p>“Well, sir——”</p> + +<p>“There was!” I cried, horrified.</p> + +<p>“It come about in this way,” began Ham, <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_46' id='pg_46'>46</a></span>calmly and quietly. And his +speaking so soon brought me to a calmer mind. “It was your grandfather’s +will. I don’t wish to say aught against the dead, sir,” said Ham, “but +if ever there was a cantankerous old curmudgeon on the face of this +footstool, it was Simon Darringford! That was your grandfather.”</p> + +<p>“I know,” said I, nodding. “He did not like my father.”</p> + +<p>“He hated him. He made his will so that your mother, his only living +child, should not enjoy the property as long as your father lived—nor +you, either. That’s a fact, Master Clint. Ye see, he put the money jest +beyond your mother’s reach, and beyond your reach. He done it very +skillfully. He had the best attorneys in Massachusetts draw the will. +The courts wouldn’t break it. You and your mother was doomed to poverty +as long as your father lived.”</p> + +<p>“But Ham!” I cried in amazement and pain, “couldn’t my father earn money +enough to support us?”</p> + +<p>“Not properly, sir,” said Ham, in a low voice. “Not as your mother had +been used to living. Don’t forget that. The Doctor was as fine a man as +ever stepped; but he wasn’t a money-maker. He knowed more <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_47' id='pg_47'>47</a></span>than any ten +doctors in this county—old Doc Eldridge is a fool to him. But your +father was easy, and he served the poor for nothing. He had ten +non-paying patients to one that paid. And he was heavily in debt, and +his debts were pressing, when he—he died.”</p> + +<p>“Ham!” I cried, leaping up again. “You—you believe there is some truth +in the story Paul hinted at?”</p> + +<p>“Naw, I don’t!” returned the coachman, promptly. “But I tell you that +there was a chance for busy-bodies to put this and that together and +make out a case of suicide. His death, my poor boy, <i>did</i> make you and +your mother wealthy—which you’d never been, in all probability, as long +as your poor father remained alive.”</p> + +<p>I heard him with pain and with a deeper understanding of the reason for +my mother’s seizure that evening. My blurting out the statement that +Paul had uttered when he was angry had undoubtedly shocked my mother +terribly. She had heard these whispers years before—when my father’s +death was still an awful reality to her. What occurred in our drawing +room that evening had brought that time of trial and sorrow back to her +mind, and had resulted in the attack I have recounted. <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_48' id='pg_48'>48</a></span>I understood it +all then—or I thought I did—and I left Ham and finally sought my bed, +determined more than ever to keep Chester Downes and his son out of the +house and make it impossible in the future for them to cause any further +trouble or misunderstanding between my mother and myself.</p> + +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='In_Which_Is_Related_a_Conversation_With_My_Mother_1125' id='In_Which_Is_Related_a_Conversation_With_My_Mother_1125'></a> +<p class='center' style='font-variant:small-caps; font-size:large;'>Chapter VI</p> +<p class='center' style='margin: 0 20% 0 20%; font-size:large'><i>In Which Is Related a Conversation With My Mother</i></p> +</div> + +<p>Mother was better in the morning. I ascertained that fact from James, +the butler. Marie, the Frenchwoman, seemed desirous of telling me +nothing and—I thought—wished to keep me out of my mother’s room.</p> + +<p>But I hung about the house all the morning and, after the doctor had +come and gone (and this time, I was glad to see, with a more cheerful +face) I insisted on pushing into the room and speaking to mother myself.</p> + +<p>Marie tossed her head and shrugged her shoulders when I insisted. “La, +la!” she exclaimed, in her French way, “boys are so troublesome. Yes!”</p> + +<p>Had it been any other servant, I should have said something sharp to +her, in my newly acquired confidence. But she was mother’s maid, and it +was no business of mine if she was impertinent.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_50' id='pg_50'>50</a></span>“Well, mother,” I said, sitting down beside the bed and taking the hand +she put out to me, “I hope you are better—the doctor says you are—and +I hope you will forgive me for my part in the disgraceful scene we had +down stairs last night. But I couldn’t stand those Downeses any more and +that’s a fact!”</p> + +<p>“Oh, Clinton! My dear boy! you are so impulsive and tempestuous,” she +murmured.</p> + +<p>“I’ll try to be as meek as Moses—a regular pussy cat around the house, +hereafter,” I returned, cheerfully.</p> + +<p>“You are just like your father,” she sighed.</p> + +<p>“I’m proud to hear you say it,” I returned, promptly. “For all I have +ever heard about my father—save the hints that those two scoundrels +have dropped—makes me believe that father was a man worthy of copying +in every particular.”</p> + +<p>Mother squeezed my hand convulsively, exclaiming:</p> + +<p>“Clinton! Clinton! You must not say such things.”</p> + +<p>“Pray tell me why not, mother?” I demanded, but I spoke quietly. “I +won’t say a word about Mr. Chester Downes and Paul, if it hurts your +feelings for me to tell the truth about them. But I am bound to be +<span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_51' id='pg_51'>51</a></span>angry if anybody maligns my father’s memory.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, Chester would never do such a thing,” mother gasped.</p> + +<p>“Then, where did Paul pick up that old scandal to throw at me?” I +demanded.</p> + +<p>“What old scandal do you mean, Clinton?” she asked, faintly.</p> + +<p>“Are you sure you wish to talk about it now, mother?” I asked, for I was +troubled by what the doctor had said the night before.</p> + +<p>“Better now than at any other time,” she said, with some decision. “I +suppose poor Paul heard some of the servants, or other people like that, +repeating the story. Oh, Clinton! it almost broke my heart at the time. +That anybody should think your father would contemplate taking his own +life—it was awful. Of course, you do not remember.”</p> + +<p>“Well—hardly!” I exclaimed. But I was troubled again by the manner in +which she spoke of Paul Downes. Hanged if she wasn’t excusing my cousin!</p> + +<p>“It was a very wretched time for me,” said my mother, weakly. “I really +do not know what I would have done had it not been for Chester. He came +immediately, and he took charge of everything. I can never forget his +kindness.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_52' id='pg_52'>52</a></span>A sudden thought struck me, and I could not help putting the suspicion +to the test. “Mother,” I asked, “was father and Mr. Chester Downes very +good friends?”</p> + +<p>She looked startled again for an instant. I saw her smooth cheek flush +and then turn pale again. My mother blushed as easily as any girl of +fifteen.</p> + +<p>“Why, Clinton, that is a strange question,” she said.</p> + +<p>“Not very strange, mother, when you consider that I believe my father +was a mighty good pattern for his son to copy. If father trusted Mr. +Chester Downes, I could be almost tempted to believe that I had injured +that gentleman in my thoughts.”</p> + +<p>“You have, Clinton! you have!” she cried.</p> + +<p>“I don’t doubt you believe so mother,” I said, quietly. “But how about +father? What was <i>his</i> opinion of Aunt Alice’s husband?”</p> + +<p>“Why—you see, Clinton,” she returned slowly and doubtfully, “Doctor +Webb was not very well acquainted with Chester.”</p> + +<p>“No?”</p> + +<p>“He never came much to our house while the doctor was alive.”</p> + +<p>“And why not?” I asked.</p> + +<p>“That—that would be hard to say,” she said; but she was so confused +that I felt that <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_53' id='pg_53'>53</a></span>my mother, who was the soul of truth, found it hard to +answer my question honestly.</p> + +<p>“Well, I should have been glad of my father’s opinion, at least,” I +said. “As it is,” I added, “not having that to guide me, I must stick to +my own.”</p> + +<p>“But you have mine, Clinton!” she cried.</p> + +<p>“Indeed, I have!” I returned, smiling, “and I’d take it upon almost any +other subject you could name, Mumsie! But you are prejudiced in favor of +Mr. Downes.”</p> + +<p>“And you are prejudiced against him.”</p> + +<p>“I am, indeed,” I admitted. “And am so prejudiced that I do not mean he +shall ever interfere in my affairs again.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, Clinton!” she cried, “I do not see how you can speak so to me.”</p> + +<p>“Now, mother dear,” I said, “I do not mean to be unfilial to you, or +ungrateful for your kindness. But Paul Downes tried to stab me last +night——”</p> + +<p>“Oh!” she cried, and shrank and trembled.</p> + +<p>“I hate to annoy you by bringing up such things, but I must show you +that they cannot hang around here any more,” I declared, firmly. “Paul +hates me; his father has done his best to poison your mind against me. I +have been in danger of my life, and in danger <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_54' id='pg_54'>54</a></span>of losing your love and +trust, through the Downeses——”</p> + +<p>“No, no!” she said, to this last.</p> + +<p>“I am afraid I am right,” I said. “I know that I have kept away from the +house a good deal this summer. I couldn’t stay here and listen to that +false man and be annoyed by that great, hulking boy of his. Now, let us +be the good friends we always have been when the Downeses are at a +distance.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, Clinton! my dear boy! I only live for you!” she cried, and began to +sob so that I felt condemned to insist. But the occasion was serious. I +knew—as Ham had warned me—that Chester Downes was lingering near and +would soon attempt to see my mother again.</p> + +<p>“Then, let us be more to each other, mother,” I said, quietly.</p> + +<p>“But I need your uncle to assist me,” she said. “He can manage my +business much better than I possibly can——”</p> + +<p>“What’s the matter with Mr. Hounsditch?” I demanded. “He was our lawyer +and had been grandfather’s lawyer, too.”</p> + +<p>“Mr. Hounsditch is an old man. He is behind the times. He cannot invest +our money to such good advantage——”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_55' id='pg_55'>55</a></span>“<i>Who says so?</i>” I asked, and she could not answer the pointed question +without admitting what I had supposed—that Mr. Chester Downes put these +opinions of the keen old lawyer into mother’s head.</p> + +<p>“I don’t care much about the money, mother,” I said. “I suppose we have +plenty anyway, and the real estate cannot be sold at all till I am of +age. But what property does come to me when I’m twenty-one, I’d rather +not have Mr. Chester Downes handle. I’d rather trust to Mr. Hounsditch +and accept small interest.”</p> + +<p>“Clinton! you are really ridiculous,” cried mother, reddening again.</p> + +<p>“Well, that’s all right,” I returned, laughing. “But you’ll hear to me, +mother, won’t you? You won’t bother about Chester Downes and Paul? Put +it down that I am jealous of the influence they have over you, if you +like. I don’t care. Just let’s you and I live together and be happy.”</p> + +<p>“That’s all I live for—to make you happy, Clinton,” said my mother, +still sobbing like a child who has been injured.</p> + +<p>“Then this request I make will be the only thing I’ll ask you to do for +me for a year, Mumsie!” I cried, calling her by the pet <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_56' id='pg_56'>56</a></span>name I had used +when I was a little fellow.</p> + +<p>“Will it really make you so happy, my boy?” she asked, wistfully.</p> + +<p>“Indeed it will,” I declared. “And now I’ve bothered you long enough. +I’ll be around here if you want me. I shan’t go out on the water today, +or until you feel quite yourself again.”</p> + +<p>I went out of her room. Marie, the Frenchwoman, was just coming up the +stairs. I saw her hide her hand with something in it under her apron. It +was a square white object. I knew it was a letter. Mr. Chester Downes +had been writing to my mother, and Marie was the go-between. She smiled, +slyly, as she passed me and whisked into the room I had just left.</p> + +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='In_Which_I_Put_Two_and_Two_Togethermdashand_Sleep_Aboard_the_Wavecrest_1323' id='In_Which_I_Put_Two_and_Two_Togethermdashand_Sleep_Aboard_the_Wavecrest_1323'></a> +<p class='center' style='font-variant:small-caps; font-size:large;'>Chapter VII</p> +<p class='center' style='margin: 0 20% 0 20%; font-size:large'><i>In Which I Put Two and Two Together—and Sleep Aboard the Wavecrest</i></p> +</div> + +<p>If for no other reason, that sly smile of my mother’s French maid would +have kept me at home that day. I was still strolling about the place, +just before luncheon, when I saw Mr. Chester Downes’ spare figure and +his tall hat coming up the hill. I went down the path and met him at the +steps which mounted the little terrace from the street to our lawn.</p> + +<p>“Oh!” he ejaculated. “Are <i>you</i> here?”</p> + +<p>“You are just in time to catch me as I was going out, Mr. Downes,” I +said. “What have you to say to me, sir?”</p> + +<p>“Nothing, young man—nothing,” he exclaimed.</p> + +<p>“You certainly have not walked over here merely for the pleasure of +looking at the house,” I said, smartly.</p> + +<p>“I have come to see your mother, sir. And I propose to see her,” he +said. “Last night I did not wish to make a disturbance while she <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_58' id='pg_58'>58</a></span>was so +ill. But I understand from Dr. Eldridge that she is much improved——”</p> + +<p>“You are correct there, Mr. Downes,” I said. “And she will continue to +improve I hope. But whether she is well or ill, you cannot see her.”</p> + +<p>“Nonsense, boy! you are crazy. Do you know that I am a man, your uncle, +and your mother’s business agent? Bold as you are, sir, you are a +minor.”</p> + +<p>“I never wanted to wish my life away before, sir,” I said, gravely. “But +I do sincerely wish that I was of age, Mr. Downes. However, I believe I +shall be able to hold my own with you, sir. At least, I shall try. And +if this is to be your course I shall know what to do. Before you get +into that house to trouble my mother again, I’ll place a guard around +it.”</p> + +<p>“You talk ridiculously. You cannot do such a thing.”</p> + +<p>“No, perhaps not. And fortunately, I shan’t have to take such extreme +measures. I have a better way of keeping you off the premises.”</p> + +<p>“You would not dare do what you threatened last night, Clinton Webb,” he +said, his voice shaking with anger.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_59' id='pg_59'>59</a></span>“You pass me and go up to that door, and see whether I dare or not,” I +returned, my eyes flashing. “Paul tried to stab me. I’ll have him +arrested if he is in Bolderhead still, and if he has run away I’ll find +means of having him brought back here to stand trial.”</p> + +<p>I was just as earnest as ever I was about anything in my life, and I +guess Mr. Chester Downes realized it. He had gone away the night before +in haste; but after thinking over the situation he believed that I could +be browbeaten and my will set aside. He stared at me, with his dark, +Indian-looking face reddening under the skin, and Paul had not looked at +me more murderously the night before when we quarreled aboard the +<i>Wavecrest</i>, than his father did now!</p> + +<p>“Why, sir,” said Mr. Downes at last, “this is a most ridiculous thing +for you to do. I can write to your mother—and I shall. She will demand +that I attend her——”</p> + +<p>“Until she does so, just take notice that you’re not to come here,” I +interrupted. “That is, if you want Paul to stay out of jail.”</p> + +<p>I turned on my heel then and walked back to the house, and he—after +hesitating a half minute or so—turned likewise and stalked <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_60' id='pg_60'>60</a></span>down the +hill. I was pretty sure he would not come back—not in that tall hat, +anyway—for before luncheon was over it had begun to rain and rained +hard. There was a sharp wind from the northwest—nor’—nor’—west, to be +exact—and everybody within a hundred miles of Cape Ann knows what that +means. In all probability we were in for a long offshore gale.</p> + +<p>So I risked going over the ferry that afternoon on an errand. I did not +propose to get caught out on the <i>Wavecrest</i> again without provisions, +and I purchased half a boat load of canned goods and the like, and a +couple of cases of spring water. While I was hunting for a boat and a +man to take my purchases aboard the sloop I ran against my cousin Paul.</p> + +<p>He was not alone, and the instant I spied him with two hang-dog fellows, +I knew he was—like the hen in the story—“laying for me!” Paul Downes +knew half the riff-raff of Bolderhead which, like most small seaports, +boasted more than a sufficient quantity of wharf-rats. Mr. Downes had +been wont to expatiate to my mother on my taste for low company; but he +must have had his own son in mind. Paul certainly picked sour fruit when +he made friends along the water-front of Bolderhead!</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_61' id='pg_61'>61</a></span>“That’s the feller,” snarled my cousin—I could read his lips, although +the trio was across the narrow street as I went along the docks—and I +knew very well that he was hatching something against me with his two +friends.</p> + +<p>But they were not likely to pitch upon me here in broad daylight, so I +paid them little heed at the moment. I found old Crab Bolster and his +skiff to lighter my cargo across the inlet, and when the boy came down +from the store with the barrow, Crab and I loaded the provisions and +spring water into his boat. Paul and his companions looked on, +whispering together now and then, from a neighboring wharf.</p> + +<p>I was not wholly a fool if I <i>was</i> so well satisfied with my own +smartness. My success in settling Mr. Chester Downes had of course given +me an inflated opinion of myself; but I knew better than to overlook the +possibility of my cousin being able to do me some mean trick, especially +with the help of the two fellows he was with.</p> + +<p>When Crab Bolster and I set off in the skiff for the <i>Wavecrest</i>, I saw +Paul and his friends make for the ferry, and while I helped pull the +skiff in the drizzle of rain that swept <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_62' id='pg_62'>62</a></span>across the harbor, I saw the +three board the ferryboat and land at the dock on the Neck near which we +lived.</p> + +<p>I made Crab hustle the goods aboard and stowed all away in the cuddy +before I let the boatman put me ashore. Paul and his friends were +hanging about the landing.</p> + +<p>“Keep your eye on my <i>Wavecrest</i>, will you, Lampton?” I said to the man +who owned the landing, and kept boats for hire. “Remember, nobody’s to +go aboard of the sloop without my special permission,” and I glanced +pointedly at my cousin.</p> + +<p>“I’ll see to that, sir,” said Lampton, who was my friend, I knew. “And +in this weather, and with the wind the way she is, anybody would be +crazy to want to take a boat out through the breach.”</p> + +<p>I went back to the house in ample time for dinner, and Ham, who had been +on the watch, reported that my uncle had not again tried to enter the +house. But I was worried about Paul and his henchmen. I couldn’t rest in +the house after dark. If they couldn’t get a boat on the Neck side of +the harbor in which to go out to the <i>Wavecrest</i>, they might come across +from the town side and do her some damage.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_63' id='pg_63'>63</a></span>Mother had come down to dinner and we had one of our old-fashioned, +homey meals, followed by a pleasant hour in the drawing-room, where she +played and sang for me. It was her pleasure that I should dress for +dinner just as though company was to be present, and she trained me in +the niceties of life, and in bits of etiquette, for which I have often, +in later times, been very thankful. For although I found my amusement in +rough adventure and my companionship for the most part among seamen and +fishermen, it hurts no boy or man to be as well grounded in the tenets +of polite society as in writing, reading, and arithmetic!</p> + +<p>The subject that was uppermost in my mind—that hazy mystery surrounding +my father’s death—did not come up between us on this evening. Nor did +the unpleasant topic of the Downeses come to the fore. I am very, very +glad to remember that my mother looked her prettiest, that she gave me +the tenderest of kisses when she bade me goodnight early, and that we +parted very lovingly.</p> + +<p>I went up to my room, but only to put on a warmer suit—a fishing suit +in fact. I shrugged myself into oilskin pants and jacket, too, in the +back shed, and exchanged my cap <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_64' id='pg_64'>64</a></span>for a sou’wester. Then I sallied forth +through a pelting rain, with the gale whistling a sharp tune behind me, +and descended the hill toward the point off which the <i>Wavecrest</i> was +moored.</p> + +<p>I had said nothing to anybody about my intention. I do not think that +any of the servants saw me go. I left my home without any particular +thought of the future, or any serious cogitation as to what would be the +result of my act.</p> + +<p>Merely, I had put two and two together in my mind—and I would sleep +aboard the <i>Wavecrest</i>.</p> + +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='In_Which_An_Expected_Comedy_Proves_To_Be_a_Tragedy_1492' id='In_Which_An_Expected_Comedy_Proves_To_Be_a_Tragedy_1492'></a> +<p class='center' style='font-variant:small-caps; font-size:large;'>Chapter VIII</p> +<p class='center' style='margin: 0 20% 0 20%; font-size:large'><i>In Which An Expected Comedy Proves To Be a Tragedy</i></p> +</div> + +<p>I knew well enough that my cousin, Paul Downes, was too thoroughly +scared by my threat to have him arrested for assault, to openly make an +attack upon either my boat or myself. But his money could bribe such +fellows as I had seen him with that very day, to sink the <i>Wavecrest</i>, +or even to assault me in the dark.</p> + +<p>It would be a joke on Paul—so I thought—if he or his friends should +sneak out to the sloop where she was moored, intending to do her some +harm, and find me there all ready for such a visitation. I chuckled to +myself while I wended my way to the shore, carrying a single oar with +me, and unlocked the padlock of the chain which fastened my rowboat to +the landing.</p> + +<p>There was nobody about, and I pushed out and sculled over to the +<i>Wavecrest</i> without being interfered with. Had I not known so <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_66' id='pg_66'>66</a></span>well just +where the sloop lay I declare I would have had trouble in finding her. +It was the darkest kind of a night and it <i>did</i> blow great guns! The +rain pelted as sharp as hail and before I got half way to the sloop I +decided that I wasn’t showing very good sense, after all, in coming out +here on such a night. I didn’t think Paul and his friends would venture +forth in such a storm.</p> + +<p>However, having once set out to do a thing I have usually run the full +course. I am not sure that it is natural perseverance in my case, but +fear that I am more often ashamed to be considered fickle. So I sculled +on to the <i>Wavecrest</i> and prepared to go aboard.</p> + +<p>But just here I bethought me that if my cousin should attempt to board +the sloop he would be warned that I was aboard by the presence of the +tender. Therefore I snubbed the nose of the rowboat up short to the +float, and then, after getting into the bows of the <i>Wavecrest</i> I let go +her cable and paid out several yards so that the float and the tender +were both out of sight in the darkness.</p> + +<p>I chuckled then, as I crept aft to the cockpit and unlocked the door of +the little cabin. Once inside, out of the rain, I drew curtains before +all the lights and then lit the lamp over <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_67' id='pg_67'>67</a></span>the cabin table. There were +four berths, two on each side, with lockers fore and aft. Altogether the +cabin of the <i>Wavecrest</i> was cozy and not a bad place at all in which to +spend a night.</p> + +<p>It was still early in the evening. The tide had not long since turned +and was running out, while the wind out of its present quarter was with +the tide. Any craft could sail out of Bolderhead harbor this night with +both gale and sea in its favor; but heaven help the vessel striving to +beat into the inlet! The reefs and ledges along this coast are as +dangerous as any down on the charts.</p> + +<p>The <i>Wavecrest</i> pitched a good bit at the end of her cable. I made up my +bed and arranged the lamp in its gimbals near the head of the berth, and +so took off my outer clothing and lay down to read. I did not think that +the lamplight could be seen from without, even if a boat came quite near +me. Being so far in-shore I had lit no riding light. It was unnecessary +at these moorings.</p> + +<p>I did not read for long. Used to the swing of the sea as I had been for +years the bucking of the <i>Wavecrest</i> as she tugged at her cable, put me +to sleep before I had any idea that I was sleepy. And my lamp was left +burning.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_68' id='pg_68'>68</a></span>I do not know how long I was unconscious—at least, I did not know at +the moment of my awakening; but suddenly something bumped against the +sloop’s counter. I thought when I opened my eyes:</p> + +<p>“Here they are! Now for some fun.”</p> + +<p>I supposed they would not have seen my light and I was going to put my +head out of the cabin and scare them before they could do the +<i>Wavecrest</i> any harm.</p> + +<p>But as it proved, the bumping of the small boat against the sloop did +not announce the arrival of the enemy. Almost instantly—I had not got +into my trousers, indeed—there came a great hammering at the cabin +door.</p> + +<p>I did not speak, although at first I supposed the rascals were knocking +to arouse me. Then it shot across my bewildered mind that somebody was +nailing up the cabin door!</p> + +<p>“Hello there! stop that!” I bawled, getting interested in the +proceedings right away.</p> + +<p>But there was no answer, unless certain whisperings that I could not +understand could be considered as such. Several long nails—twenty-penny, +I was sure—were driven home. Then there was a clattering of boots and +the small boat bumped the sloop’s counter again.</p> + +<p>They were getting into their own boat. <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_69' id='pg_69'>69</a></span>They had left me in a nice +fix—nailed up tightly in the cabin of my boat. I was mad ’way through; +instead of playing any joke on Paul Downes and his friends, they had +played me a most scurvy trick.</p> + +<p>But it was only comedy as yet—comedy for them, at least. I was pretty +sure that they had fixed me in the cabin, not only for the night, but +until somebody passing in a boat would see me signalling from the tiny +deadlights. And goodness only knew when the gale would subside enough to +tempt any other boatman out upon the bay.</p> + +<p>The sloop was still pitching at the end of her cable. I could feel the +tug of the moorings as my enemies got into their boat. Then—in half a +minute, perhaps—there was a startling change in the sloop’s action. She +leaped like a horse struck with a whip and instantly began to roll and +swing broadside to the gale.</p> + +<p>I knew at once what had happened. The cable had parted; the <i>Wavecrest</i> +was adrift!</p> + +<p>The discovery alarmed me beyond all measure. I was panic-stricken—I +admit it. And I earnestly believe that almost any other person who had a +love of life within them would have felt the same.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_70' id='pg_70'>70</a></span>For to be adrift in Bolderhead Harbor on such a night, with the wind +and tide urging one’s craft out toward the broad ocean, while one was +nailed up in the cabin and unable to do a thing toward guiding the boat, +was a situation to shake the courage of the bravest sailor who ever was +afloat.</p> + +<p>I believed I had nobody but myself to thank for the accident. In letting +out the cable by which the sloop was moored, I had increased the strain +upon it. I should have thrown out a stern anchor as well when I came +aboard the <i>Wavecrest</i> to spend the night. The tug of wind and tide had +been too much for the single cable.</p> + +<p>And now my bonnie <i>Wavecrest</i> was swinging about, broadside to the sea, +and likely to be rolled over completely in a moment. If she turned +turtle, what would become of me? The air in the cabin was already foul. +If she turned topsyturvy, and providing she was not cast upon the rocks +and smashed, I would be in difficulty for fresh air in a very few hours.</p> + +<p>These possibilities—and many others—passed through my mind in seconds +of time. I had no idea that one’s brain could work so rapidly. A hundred +possible happenings, arising from my situation, entered my mind in +<span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_71' id='pg_71'>71</a></span>those first few moments while the <i>Wavecrest</i> was swinging about.</p> + +<p>Fortunately, however, although she went far over on her beam ends, and I +expected to hear the stick snap, she righted, headed with the tide, and +began to hobble over the seas at a great rate. I had dressed completely +ere this, and was trying my best to open the cabin door. If I could get +to the centerboard and drop it, I believed the sloop would ride better +and could be steered.</p> + +<p>Those rascals had nailed the door securely, however. The slide in the +deck above was fastened on the outside too. I was a prisoner in my own +boat and she was being swept out to sea as fast as a northwest gale and +a heavy tide could carry her.</p> + +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='In_Which_I_See_the_Day_Dawn_Upon_a_Deserted_Ocean_1647' id='In_Which_I_See_the_Day_Dawn_Upon_a_Deserted_Ocean_1647'></a> +<p class='center' style='font-variant:small-caps; font-size:large;'>Chapter IX</p> +<p class='center' style='margin: 0 20% 0 20%; font-size:large'><i>In Which I See the Day Dawn Upon a Deserted Ocean</i></p> +</div> + +<p>I don’t claim to possess an atom more courage than the next fellow. I +was heartily scared the instant I realized that the <i>Wavecrest</i> was +adrift and I was fastened into her cabin. But I was not made helpless by +my terror.</p> + +<p>I tried my best to open that cabin door; but the big nails had been +driven home. The ports were too small for my body to pass through, +although I did open one and was tempted to shriek for help. But that +would have been a ridiculous thing to do—and useless, as well. Had +anybody heard and understood my need, I was beyond assistance from land, +and there was nobody out in the harbor but myself, I felt sure.</p> + +<p>The <i>Wavecrest</i> had got well out into the harbor now. She rolled very +little and therefore I knew that, unguided as she was, her head was +right and wind and tide were sweeping <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_73' id='pg_73'>73</a></span>her on. She might be piled up on +either shore at the mouth of the inlet; but from the start I believed +she would be shot through the outlet of the harbor into the open sea.</p> + +<p>In the cuddy up forward, with my provisions, there were a saw and +hammer, and other tools. I could no more get at them than I could get +out of the cabin. And although I might be able to do nothing to help +myself or my boat if I was free from my prison, I would have felt a +whole lot safer just then to have been upon her deck!</p> + +<p>The door being nailed so fast, and the deck-hatch bolted tight, it was +plain that I would have to smash something in order to get out of the +cabin. Had I had anything to use as a battering ram, I would have begun +on the door. But there seemed nothing to hand that would help me in that +way. I examined the crack where the top of the door and the deck-hatch +came together. Had I something to pry with I might tear the bolts +holding the hatch out of the wood.</p> + +<p>Such a thing as a bar was out of the question. But after a few minutes’ +cogitation, I remembered that my bunks on either side of the cabin could +be turned up against the bulkhead, and at each end of the bunks was a +<span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_74' id='pg_74'>74</a></span>flat piece of steel fifteen or eighteen inches long which held the +berth-bench when it was let down. Two screws at each end held these +steel straps in place.</p> + +<p>I had no screw driver; but I had the knife that I had taken away from my +cousin when he attacked me the evening before. I thrust the point of its +heavy blade into a crack and snapped the steel square off. It made a +fairly usable screw-driver, and I quickly had one of the steel straps +out of its fastenings.</p> + +<p>The piece of steel was stiff and made as good a bar for prying as I +could have found. With some difficulty I thrust one end up between the +top of the cabin door and the edge of the hatch, close to one side. I +slipped the closed knife up between the bar and the door for a block +against which to prize, caught the end of the bar with both hands, and +threw all my force against it. The hatch squeaked; there was a +splintering sound of wood. I was badly marring the top of the door, but +the bolt which held the hatch at that side was giving.</p> + +<p>I repeated the process at the other side of the hatch, and gradually, by +working first at one side, and then the other, I splintered the woodwork +around the bolts, and bent the <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_75' id='pg_75'>75</a></span>bolts themselves, so that the hatch +began to shove back. As soon as possible I shoved it back far enough for +my body to pass through the aperture.</p> + +<p>The rain beat down upon my face as I worked my way out of the cabin in +my oilskins; I left my hat behind. The <i>Wavecrest</i> was pitching and +yawing pretty badly now and before I cast a single glance around I was +sure that she was already going through the inlet.</p> + +<p>Yes! there was the beacon at the extreme point of Bolderhead Neck—it +was just abreast of me as I stood at last upon the sloop’s unsteady +deck. I leaped down into the cockpit and quickly lowered the +centerboard. Almost at once the <i>Wavecrest</i> began to ride more evenly. I +could see little but the beacon, the night was so black; but I ran to +the tiller and found that the sloop was under good steerage way and +answered her helm nicely.</p> + +<p>Like all sloops, the <i>Wavecrest</i> was very broad of beam for her depth of +keel, and the standing-room, or cockpit, was roomy. She was well rigged, +too, having a staysail and gafftopsail. Really, to sail her properly +there should have been a crew of two aboard; but under the present +circumstances I felt that <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_76' id='pg_76'>76</a></span>one person aboard the <i>Wavecrest</i> was one too +many! With a rising gale behind her the craft was being driven to sea at +express speed, and it was utterly impossible to retard her course.</p> + +<p>For an hour I sat there in the driving rain, hatless and shivering, +hanging to the tiller and letting the sloop drive. Letting her drive! +why, there wasn’t a thing I could do to change her course. She was +rushing on through the foaming seas like a projectile shot from some +huge gun, and every moment the howling wind seemed to increase!</p> + +<p>The beacon on the Neck was behind me now. There was nothing ahead of the +sloop’s fixed bowsprit. We were driving into a curtain of blackness that +had been let down from the sky to the sea. It is seldom that there is +not some little light playing over the surface of the water. This night +a palpable cloud had settled upon the face of the waters and I could not +even see the foam on the crests of the waves, save where they ran past +the sloop’s freeboard.</p> + +<p>I had left the broken slide open, however, and the rain was beating down +into the cabin. This began to worry me and finally I lashed the +tiller—fastening it in the bights of two <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_77' id='pg_77'>77</a></span>ropes prepared for that +purpose, and crept back into the cabin again. It was little use to +remain outside, save that if the sloop was flung upon a rock, I might +have a little better chance to escape.</p> + +<p>At the speed she was traveling, however, I knew very well that we were +already beyond the reefs and little islets that mask the entrance to +Bolderhead Harbor. It was a veritable hurricane behind us. The wind was +actually blowing so hard that the waves were scarcely of medium height. +I had seen a mere afternoon squall kick up a heavier sea.</p> + +<p>It was awkward getting in and out of the cabin by way of the hatch; but +I did not take the time then to open the door. I fixed the hatch so that +it would slide back and forth properly, however. Then I lit my spirit +lamp and made some coffee. I was pretty well chilled through, for the +rain and wind seemed to penetrate to the very marrow of my bones.</p> + +<p>I was sure that this was the beginning of the equinoctial gale. It might +be a week before the storm would break. And where would the <i>Wavecrest</i> +be in a week’s time?</p> + +<p>Not that I really believed the sloop would hold together, or still be on +top of the sea, <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_78' id='pg_78'>78</a></span>when this gale blew itself out. She was a mere speck on +the agitated surface of the sea. My only hope then was that I might be +rescued by some larger vessel—and how I should get from the <i>Wavecrest</i> +craft to another was beyond the power of my imaginings.</p> + +<p>I could not be content to remain below—nor was that unnatural. Aside +from the fear I had of the sloop’s yawing and possibly turning turtle, +and so imprisoning me in the cabin with no hope of escape therefrom, I +felt that I should be more on the alert to seize any opportunity for +escape were I at the tiller. So I carried a Mexican poncho which I wound +to the stern, draped it about me over the oilskins, and with the +sou’wester tied under my chin I could defy the rain, nor did the keen +wind search my vitals.</p> + +<p>But thus bundled up I would have stood little show had the sloop +capsized. Afterward I realized that I might as well have remained in the +cabin.</p> + +<p>However, to sleep in either place, was impossible. Sometimes the rain +beat down upon the decked over portion of the boat with the sound of a +drumstick beaten upon taut calfskin. Again the wind blew in such sharp +gusts that the rain seemed to be swept over <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_79' id='pg_79'>79</a></span>the face of the sea and +then, if I chanced to glance over my shoulder, the drops stung like +hail.</p> + +<p>Altogether I have never passed a more uncomfortable night—perhaps never +one during which I was in greater peril. The wind was shifting bit by +bit, too. My compass told me that the <i>Wavecrest</i> was now being driven +straight out to sea, instead of running parallel with the Massachusetts +coast as had been at first the fact.</p> + +<p>How fast I was traveling I could not guess. There was a patent log +aboard; but I did not rig it. Indeed, it was much safer to remain in the +stern of the sloop than to move about at all. I knew we were traveling +much faster than I had ever traveled by water before and I had something +beside the speed of my involuntary voyage to think about.</p> + +<p>It had not crossed my mind at the time, but when I had slipped out to +the <i>Wavecrest</i> that evening, giving my mother and the servants the +impression that I had gone to my room as usual, I had done a very +foolish—if not wrong—thing. The sloop might not be the only craft in +Bolderhead Harbor to break away from moorings and go on an involuntary +cruise. Other wandering craft <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_80' id='pg_80'>80</a></span>might not escape the rocks about the +beach, as the <i>Wavecrest</i> had. It might be supposed that my sloop was +among the wreckage that would be cast ashore along our rocky coast, and +my absence might not be connected with the disappearance of the sloop.</p> + +<p>My mother and friends would not suspect the reason or cause for my +absence. If I had taken a soul into my confidence, in the morning my +mother would be informed immediately of my accident. Perhaps, after all, +it was not a bad thing that some uncertainty must of necessity attach +itself to my disappearance.</p> + +<p>For although I had every reason to believe that Paul Downes had either +nailed me into the cabin, or caused me to be nailed in, well knowing +that I had gone aboard the sloop to sleep, I was equally confident that +he would not tell of what he had done, or allow his companions to tell +of the trick, either.</p> + +<p>These, and similar hazy thoughts regarding my condition, shuttled back +and forth through my brain during the long and anxious hours of that +never-to-be-forgotten night. Sometimes, I presume, I lost myself and +slept for a few minutes; but the hours dragged on so dismally, and I was +so uncomfortable and <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_81' id='pg_81'>81</a></span>anxious, that I am sure I could not have slept +much of the time. And it did seem as though the east would never lighten +for dawn.</p> + +<p>At last it came, however; and then I liked the prospect less than the no +prospect of the black night! All that it revealed to my aching eyes was +a vast, vast expanse of empty, heaving drab sea, across which the gale +hurried sheets of cold and biting rain—not a sign of land behind +me—not a sail against the equally drab horizon. My sloop, under her +bare, writhing pole, was scudding across this deserted ocean with no +haven in sight and I was without hope of rescue.</p> + +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='In_Which_I_Find_a_Most_Remarkable_Haven_1850' id='In_Which_I_Find_a_Most_Remarkable_Haven_1850'></a> +<p class='center' style='font-variant:small-caps; font-size:large;'>Chapter X</p> +<p class='center' style='margin: 0 20% 0 20%; font-size:large'><i>In Which I Find a Most Remarkable Haven</i></p> +</div> + +<p>With the coming of daylight I would have tried to get some canvas on the +<i>Wavecrest</i>—if only a rag of jib—had the gale not been so terrific. I +doubted if, under a pocket-handkerchief of sail, I could have got her +head around without swamping her.</p> + +<p>And then, what better off would I have been? I could have made no +progress beating against such a wind and it was better and safer to ride +before it, no matter where I was blown. There was no land ahead of me +save the shores of Spain—and Spain was a long way off.</p> + +<p>At least, it was better to run while the sea remained in its present +condition. As I have said, the waves were beaten flat by the savage +wind. But, if there should come a lull in that, I knew well enough the +sea would instantly leap into billows that would soon founder the little +sloop if she could neither <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_83' id='pg_83'>83</a></span>be got around to ride them, or could not +keep ahead of them.</p> + +<p>I lashed the tiller again—as I had twice during the night—and went +below for coffee. I brought back some pilot crackers and a can of +peaches that was among the stores I had bought in town the day before, +and made a fairly satisfactory breakfast of the hard bread and fruit +with a pint can of coffee. But I would not remain below any length of +time now. It looked very much to me as though the clouds might break and +the wind shift, or lull, at any moment.</p> + +<p>Several hours passed, however, and my watch (which I had not forgotten +to wind) told me that it was fast approaching noon before any change +came. Then the shrieking gale dropped suddenly and the gusts of rain +ceased.</p> + +<p>I leaped up at once to unfurl the jib. With a little canvas on her I +believed the sloop could be wore ’round and headed into the wind before +the waves sprang up. Perhaps it would have been wiser to have given her +a hand’s breath of the mainsail. However, before the bit of canvas +bellied out and I had dashed back to the helm, the first wave broke over +the stern of the sloop.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_84' id='pg_84'>84</a></span>It was a deluge! I was waist deep in the foaming flood; the cockpit was +full; the sloop had already shipped about all the water that was good +for her, and it was plain she was too water-logged to answer the helm +promptly.</p> + +<p>Up came a second wave. The lulling of the wind gave the waves a chance +to gather force and height. This one curled fairly over my head and, +looking up and over my shoulder at the great, green, foam-streaked wall +of water, I thought my last minute above the surface had come!</p> + +<p>It broke. I can remember nothing at all of the ensuing few moments. I +only know that I was smothered, drowned, completely overwhelmed by the +deluge of water that came inboard. The force of it burst open the slide +of the hatch and barrels of water flooded into the cabin. The +<i>Wavecrest</i> settled. If another wave as great had come inboard directly +in the wake of this one, I am convinced that I would not be writing this +record of my life.</p> + +<p>As the wave passed on, the keen whistle of the gale returned. I leaped +up and staggered forward. I knew that unless I could get way upon the +sodden craft she would very quickly plunge beneath the surface. I shook +out the <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_85' id='pg_85'>85</a></span>staysail as well as the jib, but dared not spread too much +canvas to the wind which seemed about to swoop down again. These sails +filled and the <i>Wavecrest</i> showed her mettle, sodden as she was with the +enormous amount of water that had come inboard.</p> + +<p>There was a deal of water awash in the cockpit; therefore the shallow +hold must have been full. And I knew there was plenty slopping about in +the cabin, ruining everything. I rigged the little pump amidships and +the pipe threw a full stream of bilge across the deck. And it wasn’t +bilge long, but came clear. Inboard came another wave—but not a large +one this time—and I pumped harder than ever.</p> + +<p>The <i>Wavecrest</i> was lumbering on too slowly to escape the following +waves. In her then condition it would have been folly to seek to head +her about. She would have rolled helplessly in the trough of the sea as +sure as I tried it. But if she was going to sail before this wind and +sea she must sail faster.</p> + +<p>The gale was steadily increasing again, but it did not blow as hard as +it had during the night and early morning. I ventured a little more +canvas and although the mast and rigging strained loudly, nothing got +away. The <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_86' id='pg_86'>86</a></span>speed of the sloop was increased, especially so as I kept at +the pump and got the hold clear.</p> + +<p>Although the hungry billows still followed the <i>Wavecrest</i> little water +came inboard for a time save the spindrift whipped from the crests of +the waves. But with a sea running so high there was danger of swamping +every moment. I dared not leave the helm for long; to go below at all +was out of the question. I went without food all that day, thankful that +I had managed to make a fairly hearty breakfast.</p> + +<p>And all the time the wind blew steadily, the sea strove mightily, and +the sloop scudded before both like a whipped pup. I would not like to +say how fast she traveled, for I do not know; I was only certain that +even in a racing wind I had never sailed so fast before.</p> + +<p>I had become wet through to the bone. Neither the poncho nor the +oilskins could keep me dry when the sea had broken over the sloop. And +the wind was keen and searched me through and through. My teeth were +a-chatter, the cold pricked me like needles, and I was altogether very +miserable indeed. Often had I been soaked to the skin while on a fishing +venture; but there was the <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_87' id='pg_87'>87</a></span>prospect of a hot drink and a warm fire +ahead of me. There was nothing in the line of comfort before me now. The +sea remained untenanted and the <i>Wavecrest</i> drove on as though she were +enchanted.</p> + +<p>Hour after hour dragged by. The sun did not appear; indeed, rain-gusts +swept now and then across the sea. The waves were so steep that when the +sloop plunged down the slope of one the rain swept on over my head and +only rattled upon my sail. Ragged masses of cloud swept across the sky. +In the distance it really seemed as though the waves leaped up and met +these low-hung clouds.</p> + +<p>And how I strained my eyes for some speck to give me hope of rescue!</p> + +<p>From the summit of almost every wave I stood up and gazed about +me—especially ahead. Behind were only the ravenous waves seeking to +overtake and swamp me. Ahead I hoped to see the vapor of some steamer, +or, at least, the bare poles of a sailing vessel that could rescue me +from my perilous situation.</p> + +<p>I dreaded another night. Indeed, I did not see how I could sail the +<i>Wavecrest</i> until morning without either food or sleep. To lash the +tiller and let the sloop drive on was too reckless a course to even +contemplate.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_88' id='pg_88'>88</a></span>A man lost in a forest, or on a desert, may be lonely; but a voyager +alone on the trackless and empty ocean is in far worse condition, +believe me! Not only is he lost, but the elements themselves are +continually buffeting him. In all this dreary day there was not a second +in which my life was not threatened.</p> + +<p>Finally when I knew there could not be many hours more of daylight, upon +rising to the summit of a great billow, I beheld something riding the +seas not far ahead. For some reason I had not seen the bulk of this +strange apparition before and at first I was sure it was the +turtle-turned hulk of a wreck.</p> + +<p>But as the <i>Wavecrest</i> sped on, bringing me nearer and nearer to the +object, I saw that I must be wrong. It was not shaped like a ship’s hull +although it was black and clumsy enough. But immediately about it the +waves seemed to be calm. At least no waves broke and foamed about the +floating mass.</p> + +<p>I watched the thing eagerly, although I could not hope for rescue under +such a guise. It was not, I was almost instantly sure, a vessel of any +kind; as the <i>Wavecrest</i> kept on her course, which brought me directly +upon the object, I was not long at a loss to identify it.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_89' id='pg_89'>89</a></span>Although I had seldom been far out of sight of land myself, and had +never seen any ocean creature bigger than a blackfish (not the tautog, +but the pilot-whale) I had listened to the stories of old whalemen along +the Bolderhead docks, and I was pretty sure that I had sighted one of +those great mammals—a creature of the sea which is no more a fish than +a horse or a cow is a fish, yet is the greatest wonder of marine life.</p> + +<p>Beside, the peculiar condition of the sea immediately about the object +revealed its identity. The whale was dead, I was sure. Otherwise it +would not have been at the surface so long in such a gale. And being +dead, and the seabirds and shark-fish having got at its carcass before +the storm, there was good reason for the waves not breaking over it.</p> + +<p>The dead whale lay in a slick, or “sleep,” as some old whalemen +pronounce the word, and hope revived in my troubled mind the instant I +realized what the object was, and its condition. The waves were +following me as hungrily as ever; at any moment the sloop might be +overwhelmed. But once let me get the <i>Wavecrest</i> in the lee of this dead +whale, I could bid defiance to the storm. There I <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_90' id='pg_90'>90</a></span>could outride the +gale and, when it was fair again, set the sloop’s nose toward the +distant mainland.</p> + +<p>With rare good fortune the sloop needed little guidance to reach the +dead whale. My original course had been aimed for the huge beast. As the +<i>Wavecrest</i> gained upon it the monster was revealed, lying partly on its +side, all of fifty feet from tail to nose. Of course there were no +seabirds upon the carcass now, nor did I see the triangular fin of a +shark anywhere about. They had ripped and torn at the carcass +sufficiently, however, to release copiously the oil from the casing of +blubber, or fat, with which the whale is entirely covered.</p> + +<p>My <i>Wavecrest</i> bore down upon the becalmed circle and suddenly I found +the waves heaving smoothly under the sloop instead of breaking all about +her. I ran to the canvas and stowed it quickly, then brought the sloop +around into the lee of the huge bulk of the whale. I had a +broken-shanked harpoon and a boathook. I plunged these both into the +carcass and then attached the <i>Wavecrest</i>, bows and stern, to these +strange mooring-posts.</p> + +<p>There she was, as safe as though we were in a landlocked harbor, rising +and falling with <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_91' id='pg_91'>91</a></span>a motion by no means unpleasant. The exuding oil made +a charmed circle about the sloop, into which the agencies of the gale +could not venture. The wind wailed as madly across the sea, and the sea +itself, at a little distance, tumbled, and burst in a most chaotic +manner; but here in the slick I lay at peace—and grateful indeed I was +for this remarkable haven.</p> + +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='In_Which_I_Am_a_Terrified_Witness_of_a_Wonderful_Phenomenon_2053' id='In_Which_I_Am_a_Terrified_Witness_of_a_Wonderful_Phenomenon_2053'></a> +<p class='center' style='font-variant:small-caps; font-size:large;'>Chapter XI</p> +<p class='center' style='margin: 0 20% 0 20%; font-size:large'><i>In Which I Am a Terrified Witness of a Wonderful Phenomenon</i></p> +</div> + +<p>Evening was dropping down and I was woefully hungry. Being sure that the +<i>Wavecrest</i> was safely moored to the body of the dead leviathan, I set +about correcting the need which preyed upon me. I was thankful, indeed, +that I had stocked my larder so well on that last day at Bolderhead. +There was plenty of water, too. I could ride out a week’s storm here +beside the whale I was very sure, and then have plenty of provisions to +serve me until I could beat back to the mainland.</p> + +<p>I got out my lanterns, filled and trimmed them, and cutting steps in the +side of the whale with the boat-hatchet, I mounted to the top of the +great body and there stuck my oar upright in the blubber and hung a +lantern to it. I was pretty sure that no vessel would pass that signal +light without investigating, even in the gale.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_93' id='pg_93'>93</a></span>I made a very comfortable supper indeed. I managed now to force the +cabin door and closed the sliding hatch. Then I warmed the cabin well +with the spirit stove, stripped off my wet clothes, and got into dry +garments. I went out on deck at nine o’clock, saw that my moorings were +fast and the lanterns burning brightly, and then turned in. After the +uncertainties of the day and the lack of sleep suffered the night +before, I slept as soundly when I now turned in on one of the bunks as +ever I did in my own bed at home!</p> + +<p>At daybreak—another drab dawning of the new day—I was up and climbed +the whale for the lantern. In its place I left attached to the upright +oar a shirt to flutter in the wind for a signal. I hoped that any vessel +passing near enough to see my signal would stop for me. But of one thing +I was sure: If it chanced that a whaling ship came within sight of the +dead leviathan my peril would soon be over. This huge beast had not been +long dead and it would be all clear gain to any “blubber boiler” that +chanced to pass that way.</p> + +<p>Nor was the possibility of being rescued by a whaleship so slight as it +would have been a few years before. There were for two decades, <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_94' id='pg_94'>94</a></span>few +whaling barks put forth from the New England ports; but of late years +there is either a greater demand for whale-oil, or the cachelot (the +sperm whale) is becoming more frequently seen both in northern and +southern seas, and is being hunted both by steam vessels and by the +old-time whaling ships.</p> + +<p>I didn’t know where I was—that is, my position in the North Atlantic; +but I believed that I had sailed so far and so fast in the sloop that I +was about midway of the course of the British steam lines running ’twixt +Halifax and the Bermudas. Those two ports are between seven and eight +hundred miles apart, and I suspected I was nearer one or the other than +I was to Boston! I knew I had done some tall sailing since being swept +out of Bolderhead Harbor.</p> + +<p>After having cooked and eaten a hearty breakfast, despite the blowing of +the gale—for dirty weather prevailed and rain swept down in torrents +every hour or two—I set about making such slight repairs as I could +with the tools and materials I had at hand. And while thus engaged I +made a discovery that—to say the least—startled me.</p> + +<p>Dragging over the bows of the <i>Wavecrest</i> <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_95' id='pg_95'>95</a></span>was the cable by which she +had been moored in Bolderhead Harbor. I had never chanced to draw it +aboard. Now I did so. It was only a bit, some three or four feet long. +And instead of finding it frayed and broken by the strain of the sloop +as she dragged at her old anchorage, I found that the hemp had been cut +sharply across. Nothing less than a knife—and a sharp one—had severed +that cable when it was taut!</p> + +<p>The appearance of the bit of rope gave me such a jolt that I sat down +and stared at it. I had been quite sure that Paul Downes and his friends +knew I was aboard the <i>Wavecrest</i> when they nailed me into the cabin. +But it really never crossed my mind that they had deliberately cut the +sloop adrift. But here was evidence of the crime. There was no doubting +it. I had been imprisoned on the <i>Wavecrest</i> and then the sloop was sent +on a voyage which Paul and his friends must have realized could end in +nothing less than death.</p> + +<p>It was an awful thought. In sudden and uncontrollable anger my cousin +had attempted to stab me when we had our unfortunate quarrel aboard the +sloop; but this crime was far greater than his former attempt. He had +deliberately planned my death.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_96' id='pg_96'>96</a></span>And if Ham Mayberry, or any of my other friends, took the pains to look +at the <i>Wavecrest</i>’s mooring cable, they would know that the sloop had +been cut adrift. The evidence lay in both pieces of the cable.</p> + +<p>Perhaps, however, it would not be known—it might never be suspected, +indeed—that I had been swept out to sea in the sloop. The mere fact +that I had left my tender tied to the mooring buoy might not be +understood. Beside, the tender might have been cut adrift, too. Or the +gale might have done much havoc in Bolderhead Inlet. Other craft could +easily have been strewn along the rocky shores, or carried—like the +<i>Wavecrest</i>—out into the open sea.</p> + +<p>The mystery of my disappearance might never be explained—until I +returned home. And when would I get back? I did not like to think of +this. I worried over the effect my disappearance would have upon my +mother’s mind. And, while I was absent, Mr. Chester Downes would have +full swing.</p> + +<p>Worried as I was because of my situation, here in the seemingly empty +Atlantic, my greatest anxiety was for my mother. More and more had I +come to fear the evil machinations of Mr. Chester Downes. While I had +<span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_97' id='pg_97'>97</a></span>been on hand to defend mother from her brother-in-law—and defend her +from her own innocent belief in him, as well!—I was but mildly +disturbed. If worse came to worse, I could always write to Lawyer +Hounsditch whom I believed would never see my mother cheated.</p> + +<p>But now—and God only knew for how long a time—it was beyond my power +to do a single thing toward guarding my mother from Chester Downes. How +I wish I had taken the old attorney of the Darringford Estate into my +confidence before this time!</p> + +<p>These were some of my sad thoughts following the discovery of the +severed cable. I remained in a very, very low state of mind indeed +during that forenoon. The gale did not abate; nothing but the boisterous +sea and the overcast sky could I see about me. Not even a seabird came +to the dead whale. I was alone—stark alone.</p> + +<p>At mid-afternoon, however, I sighted something to the southward. I had +climbed to the top of the whale for a better observation and against the +horizon I beheld a long ribbon of smoke—just a faint streak against the +lighter colored clouds. I knew that a steamer was there; but she was +far, far away, and <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_98' id='pg_98'>98</a></span>would never sight the whale, or my fluttering +signal.</p> + +<p>I thought of all manner of curious plans to attract attention to my +plight from a long distance over the sea. Fire was my main thought. I +knew that no vessel—scarcely a mail-carrying steamship—would pass a +fire at sea without investigation. Had I been a modern Munchausen I +might have found some way of drawing a wick through the whale and +setting fire to its blubber!</p> + +<p>As it was, had I been likely to run short of burning fluid I surely +would have endeavored to “try out” some of the blubber. I knew that, +before the day of mineral oil—kerosene—people used whale oil almost +altogether for lamps. But I was fortunately well supplied with oil, +water and food. I might ward off starvation for a month; but I was not +at all sure that I wished to exist so long under the then prevailing +conditions.</p> + +<p>But life is very sweet to us, and I suppose I should have clung to the +last shred of mine had Fate intended me to remain in this abandoned +state so long. This day and another night passed. I went to bed and +slept well. The whale’s carcass might roll over and crush my boat, or +some other accident happen <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_99' id='pg_99'>99</a></span>to the <i>Wavecrest</i> during my retirement. But +I could do nothing to fend off Fate did I keep awake and had already +made up my mind that I had little to fear.</p> + +<p>As for the whale sinking again, that was impossible. It may have sunk +after being killed; but putrefaction had set in within the carcass and +the gases which had thereby formed would keep the whale afloat until the +fish and seabirds had stripped its bones, in great part at least.</p> + +<p>With the returning day the clouds broke. I had noted before arising that +the gale was subsiding. The sun showed his face and I welcomed him +enthusiastically. The sea did not subside however. I could not think of +leaving my sure haven yet. It did not look exactly like settled weather +but the sun shone warmly for part of that forenoon.</p> + +<p>Before noon several screaming gulls had found the dead whale and were +circling around it, gaining courage to attack. The presence of the sloop +moored to it bothered them at first. But in a few hours there were other +scavengers of the sea at hand which were afraid of nothing. I sighted +the first ugly fin soon after eating my dinner. Then another, and +another and another appeared, and soon <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_100' id='pg_100'>100</a></span>the voracious sharks were +tearing at the whale from beneath while the increasing number of +seabirds were hovering and fighting above the carcass.</p> + +<p>Both the finned and winged denizens of the sea became so fearless that I +could have stroked the sides of the sharks with my hand or got upon the +whale and knocked the birds over with a club. Blood as well as oil ran +from the great carcass and the sea was soon streaked all around with +foulness. A dreadful stench began to be apparent, too. The fetid gasses +from the abdominal cavity of the dead creature were escaping.</p> + +<p>But I could not afford to change my anchorage just for a bad smell! +Anxious as I was to get home again, I dared not start for land yet +awhile. I must wait for a fair wind and the promise of a spell of steady +weather. I knew that by heading into the northwest I must reach the New +England coast if I sailed far enough; but otherwise I was quite ignorant +of my position. Having a nicely drawn chart in my chest did not help me +in the least now, for I did not know my position and had no means of +learning it had I been a navigator.</p> + +<p>This day passed likewise and an uncertain, <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_101' id='pg_101'>101</a></span>windy night was ushered in. +I set my lantern again on the whale’s back, the birds having become less +troublesome; but determined to keep watch for part of the night, at +least. To this end I rolled myself in my blanket and lay down on the +bench at the stern. The clouds still fled across the skies, harried by +the wind; and the wind itself fluctuated, wheeling around to various +points of the compass within a short hour.</p> + +<p>I fell asleep occasionally and finally, before dawn, descended into a +heavy slumber. I don’t know what awoke me. The wind was whining very +strangely through the sloop’s standing rigging. My oar had tumbled down +and oar and lantern were in the sea. The birds had all disappeared, nor +were the fins of the sharks visible. Off to the south’ard was a strange, +copper colored bank of cloud. The east was streaked lividly, for it was +all but sunrise.</p> + +<p>I rose and stretched, yawning loudly. I suddenly felt a prickling +sensation all over me. I knew that the air must be strongly impregnated +with electricity. Despite the whining of the wind here beside the dead +whale there seemed to have fallen a calm.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_102' id='pg_102'>102</a></span>I scrambled up the side of the whale and turned to look northward. +Glory! Within five miles was a bark, under full sail, coming down upon +me—a vision of rescue that brought the stinging tear-drops to my eyes. +I was saved.</p> + +<p>I did not care for the oar and the lost lantern now. I stood there and +waved the coat that I had dragged off at first sight of the vessel. I +knew her company must see me. I was as positive of rescue as of anything +in the world. The bark was flying before a stiff breeze, and it was head +on to the whale. I could not be missed.</p> + +<p>Although the on-coming ship sailed so proudly, however, the breeze that +filled her canvas did not breathe upon my cheek. Nor was it the whining +of that favoring wind I had heard since first opening my eyes. I swung +about suddenly and looked to the south. Up from that direction rolled +the copper colored cloud—and it seemed veritably to roll along the +surface of the sea.</p> + +<p>The sound came from this cloud. Before it the sea itself turned white. +Far above, the upper reaches of the rolling mist seemed to writhe as +though in travail of some great phenomenon. And it was so! Out of this +<span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_103' id='pg_103'>103</a></span>mass of vapor I saw born within the hour the most remarkable of all +sea-spells.</p> + +<p>But at first my attention was divided between the tornado coming up from +the south and the bark approaching from the north. Not at once did the +favoring wind leave the craft. Where the dead whale lay seemed to be a +belt of calm between the bark and the coming tornado. And this craft in +which my hope was set was really a bark, by the way; I do not use the +word poetically. Her fore and mainmasts were square rigged while her +mizzen mast was rigged fore and aft like my little <i>Wavecrest</i>.</p> + +<p>As I watched her I saw that her navigator had espied the coming tempest +from the south and the crew began to swarm among the sails. She still +came on at a spanking pace; but her canvas was reefed down rapidly until +there was nothing left but the foretopsail, flying jib and the spanker. +Soon these began to shake and then her fair wind left her entirely. She +had reached the belt of calm in which the dead whale and my sloop still +lay.</p> + +<p>In my ears the savage voice from the cloud to the south’ard was now a +roar. The remaining canvas on the bark was reefed down. She lay waiting +for the tempest. I turned to descend <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_104' id='pg_104'>104</a></span>from my rather slippery situation. +I preferred to be in the sloop when the tempest struck us, for possibly +I would be obliged to cast off from the dead mammal.</p> + +<p>But before I could get off the whale the writhing cloud changed its +appearance—and changed so rapidly that I was held spellbound. It was +sweeping over the seas so close, it seemed that the topmasts of the bark +could not have cleared it. Now whirling tongues of cloud shot downward +while dozens of spiral columns of water leaped up to meet these gyrating +tongues. Thus sucked up by the whirling cloud the waterspouts were +formed, and dozens of them swept on across the sea beneath the hovering +cloud.</p> + +<p>As the cloud advanced the wind which accompanied it beat the waves flat. +But they boiled about the waterspouts and the roaring sound increased +rapidly. The heavens above and to the north and east grew dark. The +rising sun seemed snuffed out. A vivid glare which was neither sunlight +nor starlight accompanied the tempest as it swept on.</p> + +<p>I trembled at the sight and as the seconds passed I grew more +terrified—and for good reason. What would happen to me if any of those +whirling columns of water and mist <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_105' id='pg_105'>105</a></span>struck the dead whale? If they burst +upon the drifting mammal where would I be? What would happen to the +<i>Wavecrest</i>?</p> + +<p>And then quite suddenly there came a change in the on-rushing tornado. +Amid thunderous reports—like nothing so much as the explosions of great +guns—the dozens of small spouts ran together, or were quenched as it +might be, in one huge, whirling column of water which, swept on by the +wind, charged down upon me as though aiming at my particular +destruction.</p> + +<p>I fell upon my knees and clung with both hands to the slot I had cut in +the whale’s blubber in to which to thrust the oar. I dug my fingers into +the greasy flesh and hung on for dear life. I actually expected that the +whale—and of course my sloop—would be overwhelmed.</p> + +<p>The waterspout, traveling with the speed of an express train, bore down +upon me. With it came the wind, roaring deafeningly. I lost all other +sound, with such enormous confusion the tornado swept upon me. The whale +rolled as though it had come to sudden life again.</p> + +<p>Over and over it canted. I know my sloop was lifted completely out of +the sea. The <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_106' id='pg_106'>106</a></span>waterspout whirled past—within three cable-lengths of the +dead leviathan,—and the tempest shrieked after. The whale rolled back. +I slid down the curve of the carcass and dropped into my plunging sloop. +I feared to remain longer near the dead whale, but cast off both at bow +and stern, and let the sea carry me some yards from the heaving, rolling +carcass.</p> + +<p>And then I could once more see the waterspout. It was still careening +over the sea, its general direction being nor’west; but it whirled so +that it was quite impossible to be sure of its exact direction.</p> + +<p>However, of one thing I was confident. The sailing vessel which I had so +joyfully discovered an hour ago, lay in the track of the waterspout. She +lay still becalmed and if the spout threatened to board her, there +would be no possible chance of the vessel’s escaping destruction.</p> + +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='In_Which_I_Find_Myself_Bound_for_Southern_Seas_2363' id='In_Which_I_Find_Myself_Bound_for_Southern_Seas_2363'></a> +<p class='center' style='font-variant:small-caps; font-size:large;'>Chapter XII</p> +<p class='center' style='margin: 0 20% 0 20%; font-size:large'><i>In Which I Find Myself Bound for Southern Seas</i></p> +</div> + +<p>My little sloop pitched so abominably that I could not stand upright, +but fell into her sternsheets and there clung to the tiller as she swept +along in the wake of the tornado. The waves did not break about the +<i>Wavecrest</i>, for she was still within the charmed circle of oily +calmness supplied by the dead whale. At some distance, however, the +waves were tossed about most tempestuously.</p> + +<p>I could see the bark from bow to stern, for she lay broadside to me. +When the draught from the south first struck her she went over slowly +almost upon her beam-ends; but righted majestically and her helm being +put over she slewed around so as to take the gale bow-on.</p> + +<p>She mounted the first wave splendidly and I saw her crew gathered +forward in her bows. They seemed to be at work on something and there +was a vast amount of running back <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_108' id='pg_108'>108</a></span>and forth upon her deck. Meanwhile +the waterspout, whirling like a dervish, bore down upon the bark.</p> + +<p>The great column of water passed between me and the bark, then swung +around and rushed down upon the craft in a way to threaten its complete +extinction. I expected nothing more than to see the bark borne down and +sunk under the weight of the bursting waterspout.</p> + +<p>But when it was still several cable-lengths from the bark I saw the +group upon her forward deck separate, and a long cannon was revealed. +Its muzzle was slewed a little over the port bow and the next instant it +spoke. The explosion sharply echoed across the sea, audible to my ears +despite the huge roaring of the waterspout.</p> + +<p>The column of water, rushing down upon the bark, was cut in twain by the +ball from the gun. The connection ’twixt the whirling cloud and the +whirling water was actually severed by it. Had the spout swept aboard +the bark the great ship would have scarcely escaped complete wreck. As +it was, the revolving water poured down into the ocean with the noise of +a cascade, beating the sea to foam for yards and yards around, but +without <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_109' id='pg_109'>109</a></span>doing the slightest damage either to the bark, or to my little +sloop.</p> + +<p>The tornado tore into the north, smaller spouts leaping up and twirling +in their mad dance, but none forming the threatening aspect of that +which the bark’s gun had burst. In half an hour the sun was out and I +dared spread a whisp of sail and ran down to hail the bark.</p> + +<p>I saw the crew crowding to the rail. There was a large number for even a +sailing vessel of these times, and I more than half suspected the nature +of her business before a rope ladder was let down to me and I scrambled +up the tall side of the craft with the bight of my sloop’s painter over +my shoulder and saw the “nests” of boats stowed amidships.</p> + +<p>“I say, young fellow!” was the greeting I received from a smart looking +youngster—not much older than myself—who welcomed me at the rail “is +that your whale?”</p> + +<p>“If ‘findings is keepings’ it is surely mine,” I said. “But I didn’t +kill it, and now I’ve got a leg over your rail I’ll give you all my +title and share in the beast.”</p> + +<p>“Good luck, boys!” rumbled a bewhiskered old barnacle who stood behind +the young <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_110' id='pg_110'>110</a></span>officer of the bark, “We’ve struck ile before we’re a week +out o’ Bedford.”</p> + +<p>As I say, without these words I could have been sure that the bark was a +whaler. She was the Scarboro Captain Hiram Rogers, and just beginning +her voyage for the South Seas. The Greenland, or right whale, is no +longer plentiful, but the cachelot and other species have become +wonderfully common of late years. This fact has drawn capital to the +business of whaling once more, and although steam has for the most part +supplanted sails, and the gun and explosive bullet serve the office +formerly held by the harpoon and the lance, more than a few of the old +whale-fishing fleet have come into their own again.</p> + +<p>For the Scarboro was built in the thirties of the last century; but so +well did those old Yankee boat builders construct the barks meant for +the fishing trade—for they were expected to stand many a tight +<i>squeeze</i> in the ice as well as a possible head-on collision with a mad +whale—that their length of life, and of usefulness, is phenomenal. At +least, the Scarboro looked to be a most staunch and seaworthy craft.</p> + +<p>The young fellow who had hailed me was Second Mate Gibson, nephew of the +captain <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_111' id='pg_111'>111</a></span>and, I very soon discovered, possessed of little more practical +knowledge of sea-going and seamanship than myself. But he was a brisk, +cheerful, educated fellow and being merely the captain’s lieutenant over +the watch got along very well. He expected to study navigation with his +uncle and be turned off a full-fledged mate, with a certificate, on his +return from this whaling voyage.</p> + +<p>However, these facts I learned later. Just now I was only anxious to +know what was to be done with me, and if there was a likelihood of the +captain of the Scarboro touching at any port from which I might make a +quick passage home. This last was the uppermost thought in my mind when +I followed Ben Gibson below to see the captain.</p> + +<p>Captain Rogers was a lanky man with a sandy beard and a quiet blue eye. +He did not look as though he ever had, or ever could, be hurried or +disturbed. Had I been a Triton that had just come abroad I reckon he +would have eyed me quite as calmly and listened as tranquilly to my +story. But Gibson was so impatient (as I could easily see) that I made +the story brief. He burst out with:</p> + +<p>“Captain Rogers! aren’t we going to get that whale? She’s delivered into +our hand, <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_112' id='pg_112'>112</a></span>as ye might say. The men are eager for it, sir, but you +haven’t given orders to change our course.”</p> + +<p>“And I’m not likely to, Bennie,” returned his uncle.</p> + +<p>“But it’s a waste of oil!” exclaimed the young fellow.</p> + +<p>“And it would be a waste of time for us to stop for one miserable whale +when we don’t expect to break out our boats until we’re well below the +equator. We’d just make a mess of the old hooker and have to clean her +up again.”</p> + +<p>Gibson was disappointed, and would have urged his desire further, but +Captain Rogers turned to me:</p> + +<p>“If we meet a homeward bound sailing vessel in good weather I’ll put you +aboard. Steamships won’t stop for you. If you want to join my +crew—you’re a husky looking youngster—I’ll fit you out and lot you a +greenhorn’s share. Best I can do for you. Is your sloop any good?”</p> + +<p>“She’s not started a plank, sir,” I declared.</p> + +<p>“Pass the word for the carpenter to take his gang and get the stick out +of her, and hoist her aboard,” Captain Rogers said to Gibson. “Then take +this lad to breakfast and see that he gets a good one.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_113' id='pg_113'>113</a></span>He turned me off rather cavalierly I thought. Of course, my situation +appealed more strongly to me than it was likely to appeal to anybody +else. But Captain Rogers did not seem to consider my being carried away, +willy-nilly, into the Southern Seas, and on a voyage likely to last +anywhere from eighteen months to three years—for the Scarboro was just +out of New Bedford, as has been stated—the captain did not seem to +consider, I say, what my state of mind might be. Of course, I was +thankful that I had been picked up; yet if the weather settled I might +have safely made my way back home in the <i>Wavecrest</i>. And it was easy to +see that the skipper of the Scarboro considered the sloop his property +in return for taking me aboard.</p> + +<p>The lanky captain of the whale ship was not a person to argue with. I +knew it would be useless to bandy words with him. Even his nephew +plainly showed that he considered it wise to drop the matter of the dead +whale right there and then—before the captain at least. He grumbled a +bit about the loss of this first chance for oil when we went to +breakfast, however. Apropos of which, and while we discussed the good +breakfast that was put <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_114' id='pg_114'>114</a></span>before us, Ben Gibson repeated for my +delectation the famous whaling story—a classic in its way—wherein the +Yankee skipper and the Yankee mate differ as to the advisability of +chasing a cachelot. Some version of this tale is known to every whaler +and I preserve Ben’s story, as he told it, imitating the Down East twang +as well as I may:</p> + +<p>“Forty-two days aout, an’ not a drop o’ ile in the tanks. I went +for’ard. The lookaout he hailed. ‘On deck, sir,’ says he, ‘thar she +blaows.’</p> + +<p>“I went aft. ‘Cap’n Symes,’ says I, ‘thar she blaows; shall I lower?’</p> + +<p>“Cap’n Symes he gin a look to wind’ard. ‘Mr. Symes,’ says he, (’Twas +cur’ous, his name was Cap’n Symes, an’ my name was Mister Symes, but we +warn’t neither kith nor kin), ‘Mr. Symes,’ says he, ‘it’s a-bloawin’ +right smart peart, an’ I don’t see fitten for to lower.’</p> + +<p>“I went for’ard. The lookaout hailed again. ‘On deck, sir,’ says he, +‘thar she blaows <i>an’</i> spouts.’</p> + +<p>“I went aft. ‘Cap’n Symes,’ says I, ‘thar she blaows <i>an’</i> spouts. Shall +I lower?’</p> + +<p>“Cap’n Symes he casts an eye aloft. ‘Mr. Symes,’ says he, ‘it’s a +bloawin’ right smart peart, and I don’t see fitten for to lower.’</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_115' id='pg_115'>115</a></span>“I went for’ard. The lookaout he hailed again. ‘On deck, sir,’ says he, +‘thar she blaows, an’ spouts, an’ breaches.’</p> + +<p>“I went aft. ‘Cap’n Symes,’ says I, ‘thar she bloaws, an’ spouts, an’ +breaches. Shall I lower?’</p> + +<p>“Cap’n Symes he took a look at the clouds that was a-scuddin’ acrosst. +‘Mr. Symes,’ says he, ‘it’s a-bloawin’ right smart peart, an’ I don’t +see fitten for to lower.’</p> + +<p>“I went for’ard. The lookaout he hailed again. ‘On deck, sir,’ says he, +‘thar she blaows, an’ spouts, an’ breaches, an’ it’s a right smart +sperm, too.’</p> + +<p>“I went aft. ‘Cap’n Symes,’ says I, ‘thar she bloaws, an’ spouts, an’ +breaches, <i>an’</i> its a right smart sperm-whale, too. Shall I lower?’</p> + +<p>“Cap’n Symes, he gin a last look at the weather. ‘Mr. Symes,’ says he, +‘it’s a-bloawin’ right smart peart, and <i>I</i> don’t see fitten for to +lower, still—if you’re so gol-darned sot on lowerin’, you can lower and +be hanged to you.’</p> + +<p>“I went for’ard and sings aout for volunteers, an’ the boys jest tumbled +over each other into the boat. We got the whale, and as I was a-swarmin’ +over the side, thar stood Cap’n Symes with tears in his eyes.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_116' id='pg_116'>116</a></span>“‘Mr. Symes,’ says he, ‘forty years,’ says he, ‘I’ve sailed the seas,’ +says he, ‘man an’ boy, man <i>an</i>’ boy, an’ in all that time I never see +no mate to compare with you,’ says he. ‘Mr. Symes,’ says he, ‘you’re the +Jim Dandyest mate as ever I sailed shipmates with,’ says he. ‘Mr. +Symes,’ says he, ‘daown in my cabin in the starboard locker aft,’ says +he, ‘you’ll find some prime Havana seegars, and the best o’ Lawrence’s +aould Medford New England rum,’ says he. ‘That best o’ Lawrence’s aould +Medford New England rum,’ says he, ‘an’ them prime Havana seegars,’ says +he, ‘is yourn for the rest of the v’y’ge.’</p> + +<p>“‘Cap’n Symes,’ says I, ‘you can take them prime Havana seegars an’ that +best o’ Lawrence’s aould Medford New England rum,’ says I, ‘an’ stick +’em overboard as fur as I’m consarned. All I asks is common sea-vility; +an’ that o’ the gol-darndest commonest kind!’”</p> + +<p>Ben told me this story while he ate. He was the liveliest kind of a +companion. I liked him immensely from the start, and the longer I knew +him the better I liked him. This was his first deep sea voyage, but he +had been looking forward to it ever since he was in petticoats—unlike +myself, who had only <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_117' id='pg_117'>117</a></span>longed for the sea but knew I probably would never +be allowed to follow my bent.</p> + +<p>Now, it seemed, Fate had flung me right into the life I had so longed +for. Had it not been for mother and the fears I felt for her in the mesh +of Chester Downes’ web, I should have welcomed this chance that had put +me aboard the whaling bark Scarboro.</p> + +<p>“And she’s a fine old craft,” declared the young second mate. “Maybe +she’s a bit tender in her bends, but she’s sailed in every quarter of +the globe and has brought home many a cargo of oil. We all own shares in +her—in the bark herself, I mean—we Rogerses and Gibsons. I’ve a +twentieth part myself in pickle against the time I’m twenty-one,” and he +laughed, meaning that his guardian held that investment for him—and a +very good slice of fortune his holdings in the old Scarboro proved to +be, at the end of the voyage.</p> + +<p>But now we were at the beginning of it—all the romance and adventure +was ahead of us. Before noon I was not sorry to be aboard of the bigger +craft and looked with equanimity upon my own bonny sloop stowed +amidships. The wind had wheeled again and coming abaft, the bark shot on +into the southward, <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_118' id='pg_118'>118</a></span>trying to outrun the gale. Had I not been picked up +as I was I might have been swamped in the <i>Wavecrest</i>.</p> + +<p>For a week, or more, we ran steadily toward the tropics, and in all that +time we passed—and that distantly—but two steam vessels and only one +sailing craft. There was no chance for me to get home. I had to possess +my soul with such patience as I could, while the old Scarboro bore me +swiftly away toward the Southern Seas.</p> + +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='In_Which_Tom_Anderly_Relates_A_Story_That_Arouses_My_Interest_2617' id='In_Which_Tom_Anderly_Relates_A_Story_That_Arouses_My_Interest_2617'></a> +<p class='center' style='font-variant:small-caps; font-size:large;'>Chapter XIII</p> +<p class='center' style='margin: 0 20% 0 20%; font-size:large'><i>In Which Tom Anderly Relates A Story That Arouses My Interest</i></p> +</div> + +<p>Captain Rogers was not a harsh man, but he was a stern disciplinarian. +That he could not change the course of his ship to land me in some port, +or to put me aboard a homeward bound vessel, is not to be wondered at. +He had both his owners and his crew to think of. I was thankful, when I +saw the week’s weather that followed my boarding the Scarboro, that I +had been saved from further battling with the elements in the sloop.</p> + +<p>Ben Gibson advised me to write fully of my situation and prospects and +have the letter, or letters, ready to put aboard any mail-carrying ship +we might meet. A steamship bound for the Cape of Good Hope, even, would +get a letter to Bolderhead, via London, before I could get back myself +from any South American port that the Scarboro might be obliged to touch +at.</p> + +<p>I knew, however, that the whaling bark <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_120' id='pg_120'>120</a></span>was not likely to touch at any +port unless she suffered seriously from the gales. Whaling skippers are +not likely to trust their crews in port, for the possible three year +term of shipment stretches out into an unendurable vista in the mind of +the imprisoned sailor.</p> + +<p>For that is what a sailor is—a prisoner. As the great Samuel Johnson +declared, a sailor is worse off than a man in jail, for the sailor is +not only a prisoner, but he is in danger all of the time! However, the +prospect of the danger and hardship of the seafarer’s life had never +troubled me. I must admit that I was delighted to turn to with the +captain’s watch (that was Ben Gibson’s watch) and take up the duties of +a foremast hand upon the Scarboro. I wrote the letters as I was advised. +I wrote to my mother, of course, to Ham Mayberry, and last of all, and +more particularly, to Lawyer Hounsditch.</p> + +<p>To the latter gentleman I explained all I feared regarding Mr. Chester +Downes and his machinations. To Ham I told the particulars of my having +been swept out to sea and instructed him to find my mooring rope and +save it, with its cut end for evidence; and if possible to learn who had +helped Paul Downes, my cousin, cut me adrift and nail me in the <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_121' id='pg_121'>121</a></span>cabin +of the <i>Wavecrest</i>. To my mother I wrote cheerfully and asked her to +have money sent me at Buenos Ayres, as that might be a port the Scarboro +would touch at, or a port I could reach if I left the whaleship.</p> + +<p>I cannot say that I was continually worried by my state aboard the +whaler. What boy would not have delighted in being thus thrust into the +midst of the very life and work he had so longed to follow? I could not +but feel that it was <i>meant</i> for me to be a sailor, after all.</p> + +<p>The Webbs had been seafaring folk, time out of mind. My father’s father +had tried to keep his own son off the water by giving him a college +education and making a doctor of him. But the moment my father was sure +of his sheepskin, he had looked about for a chance to go as surgeon on a +deep water ship, and had gone voyage after voyage until his marriage.</p> + +<p>Inside of a fortnight Captain Rogers had complimented me on my work and +manner, and Mr. Robbins, the mate, said I was worth my salt-horse and +hardbread. Of course while on duty Ben Gibson, the young second mate, +and I must of necessity hold to “quarterdeck etiquette;” he was “Mr. +Gibson” <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_122' id='pg_122'>122</a></span>and I was “Webb.” We were punctilious indeed about these +niceties of address. Off duty, however, we were two boys together, and +rather inclined to sky-lark.</p> + +<p>The other close friend that I made aboard the Scarboro during the first +few days of the voyage, was old Tom Anderly. He was the bewhiskered old +barnacle who had welcomed the possibility of getting oil in the bark’s +tanks from the dead whale, when I had first come aboard.</p> + +<p>Anderly was a boat-steerer, an old sea dog who had sailed oft and again +with the skipper, and who had lanced more whales than any other half +dozen men aboard. Being in old Tom’s watch I grew soon familiar with +him; and from the beginning I saw that the old seaman took more than a +common interest in me.</p> + +<p>The old man was full of stories of whale fishing and other experiences +at sea. But it was not his fund of information, or his tales, that first +of all interested me in Tom Anderly. I had told nobody—not even Ben +Gibson—about the actual event of my being swept out to sea from +Bolderhead, nor had I said a word about my father. The fact that he had +been a sea-going physician would not help me <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_123' id='pg_123'>123</a></span>hold my own with the crew +of the Scarboro. At sea, according to the homely old saw, “every tub +must stand on its own bottom.”</p> + +<p>“So you come from Bolderhead, do you?” quoth Tom to me, one day when we +were lounging together forward of the capstan, and he was mending his +pipe.</p> + +<p>“That’s where we live in the summer,” I admitted.</p> + +<p>“Jest summer visitors, are ye?”</p> + +<p>“Well, my mother has a house there.”</p> + +<p>“Yes. Ye ain’t a native, though, eh?” and before I could reply to this, +he continued: “I been studying about Bolderhead ever since you come +aboard. There was something curious happened at Bolderhead—or just off +the inlet—and it’s all come back to me now.”</p> + +<p>“What was it?” I asked, idly.</p> + +<p>“Well, it’s quite a yarn,” he said, wagging his head. “I was running in +the old hooker, Sally Smith, from Portland to New York. She carted +stone. There warn’t but five of us aboard, includin’ the cap’n and the +cook. But our freight warn’t perishable,” and he chuckled, “so speed +didn’t enter into our calculations. One day there come up a smother of +fog as we was just off Bolderhead Neck. We’d run some in-shore. It fell +a <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_124' id='pg_124'>124</a></span>dead calm—one o’ them still, creepy times when you can hear sheep +bells and dinner horns for miles and miles.</p> + +<p>“Well, sir! we lay there in this smother of fog and all of a suddent we +heard somebody hootin’. Cap he halloaed back. ‘Blow yer scare!’ sings +out the same faint voice. ‘Keep it blowin’.’</p> + +<p>“‘There’s somebody out yon tryin’ to make the Sally,’ says the Cap’n. I +stepped on the tread of the siren and kept her blattin’ now and then +and, after some minutes, we heard a splashin’ alongside and there was a +man swimming in the sea.”</p> + +<p>“He had swum out from shore?” I asked, just to keep the conversation +going. I wasn’t really interested.</p> + +<p>“No. His boat had begun leaking badly. It was too heavy to turn over, +and before it sank he slipped into the sea and made for us. He had seen +us before the fog shut down, and knew that we were becalmed. He’d just +tied his shoes about his neck by the lacings and swum out with every rag +of clothes on him—’cept his hat.”</p> + +<p>“And why did he swim for your craft instead of to shore?”</p> + +<p>“Said he was nearer the Sally when his <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_125' id='pg_125'>125</a></span>boat took in so much water. And +the tide <i>was</i> running out, no doubt. But it always did seem queer to +me,” continued Tom.</p> + +<p>“What was queer?” I asked the question without the slightest +eagerness—indeed, I really was not interested much in what the old +sailor was saying.</p> + +<p>“Queer that such a smart-appearin’, intelligent gent should have got +himself in such a fix.”</p> + +<p>“As how?”</p> + +<p>“To set sail in such a leaky old tub.”</p> + +<p>“Oh!”</p> + +<p>“And then, when he found she was sinking under him not to make for the +shore.”</p> + +<p>“What became of him?” I asked.</p> + +<p>“He went to New York with us. There he stepped ashore and I ain’t never +seen him since—and only heard of him once, an’ that was ten years or so +afterward——”</p> + +<p>“Hullo!” I cried, suddenly waking up. “When did all this happen, Tom?”</p> + +<p>“When did what happen?”</p> + +<p>“This man swimming aboard your schooner?”</p> + +<p>“Why, nigh as I can remember, it must be fourteen or fifteen years +ago—come next spring. It was in April, after the weather <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_126' id='pg_126'>126</a></span>was right +smart warm. Otherwise he wouldn’t have swum so far, I bet ye!”</p> + +<p>My voice, I knew, had suddenly become husky. I was startled, though I +don’t know why I should have felt so strangely as I reviewed this tale +he had told.</p> + +<p>“What was his name, Tom?” I asked.</p> + +<p>“The name of the feller I was tellin’ you of?”</p> + +<p>“Yes.”</p> + +<p>“Carver.”</p> + +<p>“How d’you know it was?”</p> + +<p>“Why, he said so!” exclaimed Tom. “A man ought to know his own name, +oughtn’t he?”</p> + +<p>“He should—yes.”</p> + +<p>“Well!”</p> + +<p>“But did he have any way of proving his name to be Carver?”</p> + +<p>“Pshaw! the Cap’n never axed him to prove it. Why for should he lie +about it? He worked his way to New York and all he got was his grub for +it. I let him have an old pilot coat of mine, he having only a thin +jacket on him. He agreed to pay me two dollars for it. And he was jest +as honest as they make ’em.”</p> + +<p>“He paid you?”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_127' id='pg_127'>127</a></span>“He sartinly did,” said old Tom, wagging his head. “A feller who would +be as good as his word in that particular wouldn’t lie about his name, +would he?”</p> + +<p>“You said you heard from him ten years after?” I asked, without trying +to answer Tom’s query.</p> + +<p>“Well—yes—it was ten years. But I guess the letter had been lying +there in the office of Radnor & Blunt—them’s the folks we dealt with on +the Sally Smith—for a long time. I had left the Sally the year after +and only just by chance went into the office when I was in New York. The +chief clerk he passed me over a letter. In it was a two-dollar bill and +a line saying it was for the coat.”</p> + +<p>“And it had been there waiting for you for some time?”</p> + +<p>“’Twas as yellow as saffron. They didn’t know where I lived when I was +to home. And I had been ’round the world in the Scarboro, too.”</p> + +<p>“And the letter was from Bolderhead?” I asked, slowly.</p> + +<p>“No. That was the funny part of it,” said Tom.</p> + +<p>I awoke again and once more felt a thrill of excitement in my veins. I +watched the old fellow jealously.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_128' id='pg_128'>128</a></span>“Didn’t the man—this Carver—belong in Bolderhead?”</p> + +<p>“So I supposed. But the letter come from foreign parts.”</p> + +<p>“Where?” I asked.</p> + +<p>“’Twas from Santiago, Chili.”</p> + +<p>“Then he had not gone back to Bolderhead?” I stammered.</p> + +<p>“Bless ye, lad! how do I know? I only know he sent the money from Chili. +He was something of a mystery, that feller, I allow. Ever heard tell of +him in Bolderhead? Are there any Carvers there?”</p> + +<p>“It’s a mighty small town along the New England coast in which there are +no Carvers,” I replied.</p> + +<p>“Now, ain’t that a fact? They’re a spraddled out family, I do allow,” +said Tom.</p> + +<p>“What did this man look like?” I asked, and I was still eager—I could +scarcely have told why.</p> + +<p>There was an enlarged crayon picture of my father in my bedroom at home. +When he died my mother only had a cheap little tintype of him. I don’t +suppose the crayon portrait looked much like Dr. Webb. Certainly there +was little in Tom Anderly’s description to connect the strange man +rescued out of the <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_129' id='pg_129'>129</a></span>sea with the portrait of my father. Yet the +circumstances, the time of the happening, and the suspicions that had +been roused in my mind by Paul Downes and his father, all dovetailed +together and troubled me.</p> + +<p>Even Ham Mayberry, who scoffed at the idea that my father had made way +with himself, admitted that had Dr. Webb lived my mother and I could +never have enjoyed Grandfather Darringford’s money. I could never +believe that my father had been wicked enough to commit suicide. But, +suppose he had merely slipped away from us—gone out of our lives +entirely—with the intention of putting his wife and child in a +prosperous position?</p> + +<p>It was romantic, I suppose. To the perfectly sane and hard-headed such a +suspicion would seem utterly ridiculous. But the longer I thought over +Tom Anderly’s story—the more I allowed my imagination to roam—the more +possible the idea seemed. Ham had said my father was not a money-making +man. He was in financial difficulties, too. Grandfather had died and +there was a heap of money just beyond my mother’s grasp. My father had +become a stumbling-block in her path—in my path. He it was who kept us +from enjoying wealth.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_130' id='pg_130'>130</a></span>The cruelty of my grandfather in arranging such a situation filled me +with anger when I contemplated it. What could my father think but that, +if he were out of the way, it would be far, far better for his wife and +child?</p> + +<p>I could not believe, for an instant, that Dr. Webb would have committed +the crime of self-destruction. But in my then romantic state of mind, +what more easily believed than that he had deliberately removed himself +out of our lives—and in a way to make it appear that he was dead?</p> + +<p>As we did, he knew we would at once enter into the enjoyment of the +wealth left by old Mr. Darringford. There would be no material suffering +caused by his dropping out of sight. I faced the matter with more +coolness and a better understanding than most boys of my age possess, +because of my knowing my mother’s nature so well. Take my own sudden +disappearance, for instance. I knew well she would be quite overwhelmed +at first; but if good Dr. Eldridge brought her out of it all right, and +she had somebody to turn to and depend upon for comfort and +encouragement, she would sustain my mysterious absence very well indeed.</p> + +<p>And my father must have known her character <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_131' id='pg_131'>131</a></span>much better than I did! +Undoubtedly it had been very hard for mother to endure the cramped +circumstances of those first two years of her married life. It must have +been a great deal harder for Dr. Webb to bear it, knowing that she +suffered for lack of the luxuries and ease to which she had been used.</p> + +<p>I could imagine that the situation when my grandfather died and left his +peculiar will, would have pretty near maddened Dr. Webb. It would not be +strange if he contemplated self-destruction as a means of putting my +mother and myself positively beyond the reach of poverty. He had rowed +out to White Rock. He had left the old watch—I had the heirloom in my +pocket now—for the boy who was yet to grow up and bear his name. The +fog and the Sally Smith had appeared together and offered him means of +escape.</p> + +<p>It would be fifteen years the coming spring that my father had +disappeared. Tom Anderly had hit the time near enough. Had there been +any man named Carver who had suffered such an accident off Bolderhead +Neck as the old seaman told of, I would have heard the particulars, +knocking about among the Bolderhead docks as I had for years.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_132' id='pg_132'>132</a></span>The story seemed conclusive. I had never for a moment believed that my +father had wickedly made way with himself. But that he was alive—that +he had gone out into the world, possibly with the hope of finding a +fortune and sometime coming back to mother and me with a pocketful of +money—Yes! I could believe that, and I <i>did</i> believe it with all my +heart!</p> + +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='In_Which_I_Hear_for_the_First_Time_the_Whalers_BattleCry_2940' id='In_Which_I_Hear_for_the_First_Time_the_Whalers_BattleCry_2940'></a> +<p class='center' style='font-variant:small-caps; font-size:large;'>Chapter XIV</p> +<p class='center' style='margin: 0 20% 0 20%; font-size:large'><i>In Which I Hear for the First Time the Whaler’s Battle-Cry</i></p> +</div> + +<p>So impressed was I by the imaginings suggested by Tom Anderly’s story, +that I opened my letter to old Ham Mayberry and asked him if he had ever +heard of a man named Carver who had gone through the experiences Tom had +related of the man who had swum to the Sally Smith from the direction of +Bolderhead Neck?</p> + +<p>It was the very next day, and a fortnight after I had boarded the +whaling bark, that I got a chance to send off the letters. The wind +lulled and we crossed the course of a steamship hailing from Baltimore +and touching on the West Coast of Africa; Captain Rogers sent the +letters aboard the steamship. There was no use in my trying to get +passage on her, however; I would have gained nothing by such a move.</p> + +<p>“Now your letters will be picked up by a London, or Lisbon-bound steamer +and it <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_134' id='pg_134'>134</a></span>won’t be two months before your folks will know all about you,” +Ben Gibson said. “If you’d had to depend upon the post-box in the Straits +of Magellan, for instance, it might be six months before Bolderhead folk +would ever know what had become of you.”</p> + +<p>I must confess that every day I was becoming more and more enamored of +this life at sea. We had had little fair weather and were kept busy +making sail and then reefing again, or repairing the small damages made +by the gale. Captain Rogers was not the man to lay hove to in any fair +breeze. We outran the bad weather before we crossed the line and then +the lookout went to the masthead and from that time on, as long as I was +with the Scarboro, the crowsnest was never empty by day.</p> + +<p>For we had come into those regions of the South Atlantic where schools +of the big mammals for which we hunted might be at any time come upon, +especially at this season of the year. The gale having left us, the +weather was charming. While winter was threatening New England we were +in the latitude of perpetual summer, and as long as the trade wind blew +we did not suffer from the heat.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_135' id='pg_135'>135</a></span>The Scarboro carried crew enough to put out six boats at a time and +still leave a boatkeeper and cook aboard. As a usual thing, however, +only four boats were expected to be out at once—the captain’s, Ben +Gibson’s (with whom Tom Anderly went as boat-steerer and would really be +in charge until Ben learned the ropes) the mate’s boat, and Bill Rudd, +the carpenter’s, boat. The gun forward in the Scarboro’s bows, however, +was there for a purpose, too, as I found out on the first day we sighted +a whale.</p> + +<p>The man in the crowsnest suddenly hailed the deck, when Mr. Gibson was +in charge:</p> + +<p>“On deck, sir!” he sang out, with such eagerness that the watch came +instantly to attention.</p> + +<p>“Well, sir?” cried Ben.</p> + +<p>“Ah-h blows! Again, sir!”</p> + +<p>“Pass the word for Cap’n Rogers, Webb,” the second mate said to me, and +grabbing his glasses he started up the backstays to see the sight. Some +of the hands sprang into the rigging, too, and soon the whaler’s +battle-cry rang through the ship:</p> + +<p>“Ah-h blows! And spouts!”</p> + +<p>Captain Rogers was on deck in a moment. He ran up after Ben Gibson and +took an <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_136' id='pg_136'>136</a></span>earnest peek through the glasses himself. Then he dropped down +to the quarter and said, but with satisfaction:</p> + +<p>“Only one fish in sight. May be more ahead. Perhaps it’s a she with a +calf and has got behind the school. We’ll see. Now, boys! tumble up and +let’s get the rags on her.”</p> + +<p>We went at the sails with a will and for the first time I saw every yard +of canvas the Scarboro could set flung to the breeze. The old bark began +to hustle. She was heavy and she could do no fancy sailing; but having +the wind with her she rushed down upon the lone whale like a steamship. +Soon we could see the undulating black hump of the whale from the deck.</p> + +<p>We saw an occasional spurt of water, or mist, from its blow-holes. By +and by it breached and was out of sight for a short time. When it came +up again it was still tail-end to the Scarboro and not half a mile away. +There was no other whale in sight; but this was a big fellow—a right +whale, or baleener. After coming up it lay quietly on the water, or +moving ahead very slowly.</p> + +<p>The men were eager to get after it in the boats; but Captain Rogers knew +a better way than that to attack a lone whale. We <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_137' id='pg_137'>137</a></span>reefed down again and +left little canvas exposed while the Scarboro kept on her tack under the +momentum she had already gathered. The captain went forward where the +gun had been made ready. He swung it about on its pivot and got the +range of the whale.</p> + +<p>At this small distance the huge mammal looked like a cigar-shaped piece +of smooth, shiny slate-colored India-rubber—no longer black. Four or +five feet of its diameter and forty feet or more of its length showed +like a mound in the smooth water, and the body alternately rose and +dipped as the whale swam slowly along. It was doubtless feeding on the +tiny marine creatures which are the sole food of the right whale. It +took great “gulps” of sea water into its cavernous mouth, water which it +strained out through its curtain of baleen, swallowing only the tiny +fish down a gullet so small that it would not admit a man’s fist.</p> + +<p>The Scarboro was approaching it from behind and at an angle, so that its +course and ours made the sides of a V. Captain Rogers followed the +course of the whale alertly, swinging the muzzle of the cannon with +skill. Most of the crew were grouped behind him in anxious expectancy.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_138' id='pg_138'>138</a></span>Suddenly I felt a touch upon my arm. It was Tom Anderly. He was +pointing silently over the port bow. There, a couple of miles away, I +judged, several columns of mist were spouting into the air. <i>There was +the school!</i></p> + +<p>But I turned to view the nearby mammoth again just as the gun spoke. I +saw a hideous, crimson zigzag gash on the broad side of the whale, I +heard the rumbling roar of the time-bomb at the point of the harpoon +exploding in the whale’s vitals.</p> + +<p>Instantly the whole crew were in a pandemonium of excitement; but the +captain’s shrill orders were obeyed like clockwork. I felt the blow of +the great bark give a convulsive jerk. The whale had gone straight +downward and the cable attached to the harpoon shot over the bow so fast +that the eye could not follow its course. Where the hemp touched the +rail a column of smoke arose. Two men sprang with buckets to dip up the +sea-water and pour it upon the shrieking line. The windlass spun around +like a boy’s top.</p> + +<p>Coil after coil of the rope leaped into nothingness. Had there been a +big express locomotive hitched to that line, and going at full speed, I +do not think the line would have paid out any faster!</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_139' id='pg_139'>139</a></span>At last the windlass ceased to spin. The whale had either touched +bottom, or had descended as far as it could. We had already laid our +mainsail aback and as the line lay slack upon the water, Captain Rogers +motioned to the men at the windlass to wind in. It was like playing a +fish at the end of a line and reel.</p> + +<p>Those next few moments were breathless ones for all hands. Suddenly the +sea parted right off the port bow, and not half a cable’s length ahead. +Up, and up the gigantic creature rose—up, up, up till it towered +fifteen feet above the Scarboro’s rail!</p> + +<p>Then it turned a somersault, beating the sea to waves like the boiling +of a cauldron. It rose again, churning the sea with its tail, and then +raising the caudal fin for twenty feet, or more, and slapping it down +upon the water with a shock like the report of a big gun—aye, like a +thunder-clap!</p> + +<p>Then the great beast whirled round and round—it seemed seeking for the +thing that had so hurt it. We watched the struggle of the leviathan with +pop-eyed expectation—especially the young second mate and myself, for +we were the only real greenhorns aboard the Scarboro. The whale wrapped +several <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_140' id='pg_140'>140</a></span>lengths of the line about its body and then shot away into the +southwest, away from the distant school. It swam so fast that it +actually seemed to skip from wave to wave like a swallow.</p> + +<p>When it reached the end of the slack there was a jerk that shook the +bark from stem to stern. Then came the tug of war. There was no small +whaleboat behind it, but a great, 195 ton bark, and this massive bulk +the creature actually towed like a steam-tug towing a steamship.</p> + +<p>The captain let more line out. Far out at the end of two miles of line +the whale lashed about, and churned the sea, and blew blasts of vapor +into the air. Then old Tom Anderly cried that it was spouting blood and +we knew the end was near.</p> + +<p>But the captain gave the whale half an hour in which to die before +ordering the line wound inboard. The rest of the school had gone on +steadily into the south and was still several miles away. We could not +launch our boats for them, but gave our complete attention to the first +kill.</p> + +<p>As the whale felt the pull of the line it gave a single convulsive jump. +But after waiting a moment or two, Captain Rogers <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_141' id='pg_141'>141</a></span>commanded the +windlass to be manned again. Slowly the line came in and, after a time, +the huge, inert, flabby body floated, belly up, just off our bows.</p> + +<p>The mate’s boat was lowered and a chain was passed around the whale’s +body just forward of the tail. With this it was grappled to the +Scarboro’s side. I could see a dozen quarreling porpoises eating the +tongue of the monster that had been, two hours before, alive and, to +these scavengers, invincible.</p> + +<p>There was a broad smile on every man’s face, from Captain Rogers down +the line. The first kill had been successful. Oil was in sight. But—as +I soon found out—the real work of the voyage had begun as well.</p> + +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='In_Which_We_Strike_On_3131' id='In_Which_We_Strike_On_3131'></a> +<p class='center' style='font-variant:small-caps; font-size:large;'>Chapter XV</p> +<p class='center' style='margin: 0 20% 0 20%; font-size:large'><i>In Which We “Strike On”</i></p> +</div> + +<p>Belly uppermost the huge whale (its actual length was seventy-three +feet) was fastened “stem and stern” along the starboard side of the +Scarboro. The first operation of butchering a whale—if it be a +baleener—is to secure the whalebone. This is a difficult job as I very +soon saw. The thick, hard, horny substance must be separated from the +jaw; and it sometimes turns the edge of the axe like iron would.</p> + +<p>When we had got the baleen inboard, however, the more disagreeable work +of “flensing” began. A number of the men, with old Tom Anderly at their +head, got upon the whale in spiked shoes and with blubber spades +attacked the main carcass of the beast. The blubber was cut up into +squares, weighing a ton or more each, the hook of the falls caught in +one end, and then the blubber was “eased off” with the spades while +those aboard hauled on the tackle, thus ripping the blubber from the +layer of flesh beneath.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_143' id='pg_143'>143</a></span>In handling a small whale, Tom told me, they would thus rip the blubber +off in long strips, rolling the carcass over and over in the bights of +the holding chains. For this one whale Captain Rogers did not see fit to +start the fire under the donkey-engine amid ships, by which the blubber +could have been raised inboard much easier.</p> + +<p>The try-out caldrons were heated, however, and the blubber as it came +inboard—like “sides” from a great hog—was hacked into pieces of two or +three pounds each and thrown into the pots. Soon the deck of the bark, +from bow to stern, was slippery with spilled oil, or bits of blubber. A +thick, greasy smoke rolled away from the ship. It’s flavor in the mouth +was at first sickening. We got used to it.</p> + +<p>“Hi, lad!” cried Tom Anderly, when I looked over the rail, “now you’ve +got a taste of real whaler’s souse—everything you put in your +potato-trap for the rest of the v’y’ge will be flavored with whale-oil.”</p> + +<p>A whale will weigh about as many tons as it is feet long—in other +words, this seventy-three foot whale weighed probably seventy ton and +from the blubber we tried out thirty tons of oil—nearly half its weight +in the tanks beside the baleen!</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_144' id='pg_144'>144</a></span>We had been sailing in the wake of the big school of whales we had +spied when we killed the baleener. We came up with them again at +mid-afternoon, and found that they were sperms. That was why the +<i>Mysticete</i> we had killed the day before did not start to drag the +Scarboro toward the school. The baleeners and the <i>Denticete</i> (toothed +whales) do not mix in company, and are, indeed, seldom found in the same +seas. The baleeners are usually found toward the Arctic or Antarctic +regions, while the sperms and their ilk hold to the warm seas.</p> + +<p>Captain Rogers might have run down to the school of cachelots and gunned +for one of the beasts; but then the others would have been frightened +away. The bark lay to upon a perfectly calm sea, and at a distance of +about two miles from the school, and four boats were manned and shot +away from the ship. The whales seemed to be asleep, or lying sunning +themselves, upon the surface of the sea.</p> + +<p>I was in Ben Gibson’s boat, of which old Tom was steersman. He would +handle the iron too, for as I have said, Ben was just as green in the +actual practice of whalemanship as I was myself. We raced with the other +<span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_145' id='pg_145'>145</a></span>boats for the nearest prize, which proved to be a husky bull, longer +than the baleener we had killed.</p> + +<p>I was bow oar, and I found that I could hold my own with the rest of the +crew. Our stroke set a slapping pace and we bent to the work as though +we were racing for the sport of it. Each crew desired to be first and +have the credit of fleshing the iron in this monster. The water being so +calm it proved to be a very pretty struggle. And all done so silently! +The whale is sharp-eared and on a mill-pond sea like this, sounds carry +far. We came up from behind the mammoth, and we were ahead of the other +boats.</p> + +<p>The captain, in the nearest boat, signaled us with his hand to strike +on, while his boat rushed past for another of the sleeping monsters. Old +Tom and the young second mate changed places swiftly and the old +harpooner stood up poising the heavy iron and looking to see that the +coils of the rope were free. With a nod Mr. Gibson ordered the oars +brought inboard and he pulled in the long steering oar himself. The +whaleboat shot close up to the whale’s side. The body loomed beside us +like the rolling hull of an unballasted ship.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_146' id='pg_146'>146</a></span>With my face over my shoulder I watched old Tom poise the iron. When he +swung it back the muscles of his shoulder and upper arm flexed like a +pugilist’s! He was a fit subject for a statue at that instant. Then he +flung body and weapon forward, the latter left his hand smoothly, and +the sabre-sharp point sunk deep in the yielding blubber.</p> + +<p>“Back all!” gasped Ben Gibson, scarcely above his breath, so excited was +he.</p> + +<p>But we had expected the order and were ready for it. The oars went in +with unanimity and the boat shot back, for a whaleboat is as sharp at +one end as it is at the other.</p> + +<p>The whale made no flurry, however. It was as though he lay stunned for +half a minute—perhaps longer. Then he made up his mind what to do, and +he did it with a promptness and speed that was amazing.</p> + +<p>Like a spurred horse the whale started ahead. I declare, it seemed as +though half his length came out of the sea at the first jump. The line +whizzed over the bow as though it were tackled to a fast express.</p> + +<p>“Pull!” yelled Ben and we laid to the oars so that when the line ran out +the shock would not be so great. When the first line was all out and Tom +bent on another we were rushing through the water like mad. We passed +<span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_147' id='pg_147'>147</a></span>the captain’s boat just after he had struck on himself and his kill had +sounded.</p> + +<p>“Go it, young man!” yelled Captain Rogers, standing up and waving his +hat to his nephew, “you’re going out of town faster than you’ll come +back.”</p> + +<p>All we could do in that double-ended boat was to sit still and hold +tight. I candidly believe that we traveled at a speed of a mile minute. +I had once been aboard of a turbine launch, and the black water was +thrown up on either side of that whaleboat in a wave just as it had +flowed away from the nose of the launch!</p> + +<p>This wave seemed to be three feet higher than the gunwale of the boat +and as black as ebony. Even Tom Anderly cast a glance at the +boat-hatchet as though he contemplated cutting the taut line. Our eyes +were blinded by the wind which seemed to be blowing a hurricane. +Actually there was scarcely a breath stirring over the surface of the +placid ocean.</p> + +<p>Our locomotive went directly through the school. Its mates rolled +placidly and eyed us as we shot by with wicked glance. But none of them +followed the boat which continued to tear through the water with +undiminished speed.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_148' id='pg_148'>148</a></span>But after a time we found that we had company, and mighty unpleasant +company, too. In the boiling wake of the whaleboat I could see a dozen +triangular fins—the fins of the real tiger shark of the tropics. Not a +nice spectacle to men in such a situation as ours. Secretly I was +frightened, and I reckon even the oldest in the boat’s crew felt +serious.</p> + +<p>The mad whale was taking us farther and farther away from the bark and +our friends. Indeed, the Scarboro was wiped out of sight, it seemed, +within a very few minutes, and the other three boats were lost behind +us, too.</p> + +<p>The runaway, however, did not continue straight ahead. Its speed did not +seem to slacken in the least; but soon it began to circle around, +finding itself without its mates.</p> + +<p>“If the old feller don’t put on brakes pretty soon the harpoon’ll git so +hot it’ll melt the blubber and pull out,” chuckled the stroke-oar.</p> + +<p>It was the first word spoken that showed relief. There was a perceptible +slackening of our speed. And the whale was “going back to town,” as the +captain had intimated.</p> + +<p>“Get hold of that line, Webb, and stand ready to haul,” said Mr. Gibson +to me, taking the heavy whalegun from its covered beckets, <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_149' id='pg_149'>149</a></span>after +changing places again with old Tom.</p> + +<p>“Now for it!” muttered the boat-steerer, gripping the eighteen-foot oar +and craning forward eagerly. He was just as excited as the rest of us. I +hauled in on the line, standing firmly braced just behind the young +second mate. The whale had actually come to a stop and did not sound. We +drew closer and closer.</p> + +<p>“Jest a leetle be-aft the for’ard fin, sir!” whispered old Tom, +excitedly.</p> + +<p>Gibson grunted some reply and raised the gun, taking careful aim at the +mountain of flesh about which the water swirled. A second or two of +breathless suspense followed as, oars in hand, we waited the report of +the gun.</p> + +<p>A sharp report made me jump. Then came the dull explosion of the +bomb-lance somewhere in the vitals of the whale.</p> + +<p>“Stern all! stern all!” shouted Mr. Gibson, this time finding his voice.</p> + +<p>The wounded whale flung itself completely out of the water. For a moment +we could see daylight underneath the huge bulk and as we backed water +with all our strength it did seem as though that convulsed, eighty +barrel sperm must fall upon the boat and overwhelm it!</p> + +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='In_Which_There_Is_Some_Information_and_Much_Excitement_3318' id='In_Which_There_Is_Some_Information_and_Much_Excitement_3318'></a> +<p class='center' style='font-variant:small-caps; font-size:large;'>Chapter XVI</p> +<p class='center' style='margin: 0 20% 0 20%; font-size:large'><i>In Which There Is Some Information and Much Excitement</i></p> +</div> + +<p>The young second officer’s command needed no repetition. There was no +temptation for us to linger under the monster. With a crash that seemed +to make sea and air tremble, the great body struck the surface of the +water.</p> + +<p>The whaleboat dashed back just in time, and then rocked upon the waves +as the dying whale rolled to and fro in his “flurry.” Then, with a great +puff, the creature rolled partially on his side, and the ocean +thereabout became tinged with the blood thrown out of its blow-hole.</p> + +<p>“Killed with one lance! killed with one lance!” yelled Second Mate +Gibson.</p> + +<p>But then he gripped his dignity again and sat down, giving commands in +his ordinary tone. Old Tom stood up to glance about the sea-scape: “And +now where’s that thundering old hooker?” he demanded. “We’ll have a fine +time pulling this baby to her.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_151' id='pg_151'>151</a></span>But that is what we had to do. We had had our “fun;” now we settled +down to doggedly pulling the heavy oars, being divided into two watches, +and saw the light of the Scarboro’s trying-out works at midnight! The +Captain and Mr. Rudd had both got small whales and one had been laid +aboard each side of the bark. The crew were working like gnomes in a +pantomime when we rowed sadly to the bark with our huge tow. How we +worked! I never had been so tired in my life, and at the end of the +second day when the oil from the three whales had been run into the +tanks and the decks cleared up again, I could have fallen into my +hammock and slept the clock around. But one never catches up one’s sleep +on a successful whaler, and the Scarboro certainly was proving good her +name as a “lucky” craft.</p> + +<p>Between Tom Anderly and Ben Gibson I learned a lot about whaling +statistics—famous voyages, wonderful accidents to whaling crews “lucky +strikes,” and the like. And these facts, both curious and exciting, I +stowed away in my mind for future reference. Despite the fact that steam +vessels and the gun and explosive bullet have almost supplanted the +old-fashioned manner of killing whales, the <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_152' id='pg_152'>152</a></span>luck and pluck of half a +century, or more, ago, counted for enough to offset these new methods.</p> + +<p>The most extraordinary good-luck voyage ever made by an American whaler +was that of the bark Envoy, belonging to the Brownells of New Bedford. +She was built in 1826 and in the year 1847 she returned to her then home +port in such a condition that the underwriters refused to insure her for +another voyage. But Captain William C. Brownell and Captain W. T. Walker +agreed to take a chance in the old hulk and she put to sea from New +Bedford under Captain Walker on July 12, 1848. As fitted for sea the +Envoy, for repairs, supplies and all, stood the two owners in the sum of +$8,000, whereas a vessel that could be insured might have cost from +$40,000 to $60,000.</p> + +<p>She got around the Horn without falling apart and took on a cargo of oil +at Wytootackie which her captain had previously purchased from a wrecked +whaler and stored there. This oil she hobbled into Manila with and +shipped it to London at a profit of $9,000. From Manila the Envoy went +cruising in the North Pacific and in fifty-five days she took 2,800 +barrels of whale-oil and 40,000 pounds of baleen. With this she returned +to Manila <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_153' id='pg_153'>153</a></span>and shipped the bone and 1,800 barrels of oil to London, the +shipment yielding $37,500 net.</p> + +<p>Again she went cruising and secured 2,500 barrels of oil and 35,000 +pounds of bone, bringing both into San Francisco in 1851, where she +disposed of the oil for $73,450 and shipped the bone to her home port +where it brought $12,500. To complete the record of her good luck, San +Francisco merchants offered $6,000 for the condemned old bark that had, +in two years, or thereabout, brought to her owners and venturesome crew +the sum of $138,450.</p> + +<p>With the captain’s share as one-seventeenth of the “lay” the skipper of +the Envoy must have made $8,000. “There were common sailors on that ship +that turned up a thousand dollars in pocket when they were paid off,” +said Ben Gibson, when we were discussing it. “The second mate, with his +one-forty-fifth, cleaned up three thousand. Hope I’ll do half as well in +the same length of time with the Scarboro.”</p> + +<p>I learned that the largest catch brought into port by an American +whaler, as the result of a single cruise, included 5,300 barrels of oil +and 200 barrels of sperm, with 50,000 pounds of bone. It was taken in a +voyage <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_154' id='pg_154'>154</a></span>lasting only 28 months by the South America, of Providence, +Captain R. N. Sowle. It sold for $89,000 in 1849, and the cost of ship +and outfit was $40,000.</p> + +<p>The Pioneer, of New London, Captain Ebenezer Morgan, holds the medal for +the largest sum realized from a single voyage. She left her home port on +June 4, 1864, for Davis Strait and returned a year and three months +later with a cargo of 1,391 barrels of oil and 22,650 pounds of bone, +which sold at war-time prices for $150,000. The outfitting of this craft +cost $35,000.</p> + +<p>“Those are all great tales,” quoth Tom Anderly, when we had marveled +over these lucky voyages. “But how about the brig Emeline of New +Bedford? She sailed on July 11, 1841 and in twenty-six months she +returned home with how much ile d’you suppose?”</p> + +<p>Ben and I gave it up. Some enormous sum, we supposed, was realized.</p> + +<p>“Yah!” said Tom. “A fat lot. Twenty-six months and ten barrels of ile, +and her skipper killed by a whale.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, now that you’re on the hard luck tack,” quoth Ben, “there was the +Junior, of New Bedford. I’ve heard my uncle tell of her. Out a year and +two months and put <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_155' id='pg_155'>155</a></span>back to port <i>clean</i>—and the crew plumb disgusted. +Could you blame ’em?”</p> + +<p>This conversation went on between our watches while the three sperm +whales were being butchered. There was a peculiarity about these +cachelots that I failed to mention. We butchered them in a different +manner than we did the Greenland, or right, whale. The cachelot has no +baleen but it furnishes spermaceti. A large, nearly triangular cavity in +the right side of the head, called the “case” (sometimes spermaceti is +called “case oil”) is lined with a beautiful, silver-like membrane, and +covered by a thick layer of muscular fibres. This cavity contains a +secretion of an oily fluid which, after the death of the animal, +congeals into a granulated yellowish-hued substance. Our whale, the +first of the school killed by the second mate’s boat—had in its case a +tun, or ten barrels, of spermaceti!</p> + +<p>While the trying-out operations were under way we lost, of course, that +school of sperms; but we drifted some miles into the south, and as soon +as Captain Rogers could get canvas on her, we made a splendid run for +two days west of south and so caught up either with that same school, or +with another herd of cachelots.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_156' id='pg_156'>156</a></span>I had thus far seen some of the sport, a good deal of the hard work, +and some of the uncertainties of the whaleman’s life; now I came upon a +streak of peril the remembrance of which is not likely to be sponged +from my mind as long as I possess any memory at all.</p> + +<p>It was at daybreak the lookout hailed the deck with “Ah-h blows! And +spouts! All about us, sir!”</p> + +<p>It was true. We had run into the midst of the school of whales. Captain +Rogers being called by Mr. Robbins, took a look around the sea-line, +cast a shrewd look at the heavens, went and squinted at the glass, and +then ordered the canvas reefed down and all hands to breakfast. The +prospect, of both weather and whales, was for a good kill.</p> + +<p>The healthy rivalry between the boats was now manifest. Captain Rogers +ordered all six out, leaving but two men aboard the bark. They could +just manage to steer her under the riding sail. Our boat was off as soon +as any and we pulled steadily for the whale we had chosen as our prize. +We had brought in the biggest one before and we hoped to do as well on +this occasion.</p> + +<p>But we couldn’t pick the biggest this time, for as we shot through the +rippling waves, <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_157' id='pg_157'>157</a></span>aiming for a huge bull that rolled on the surface, up +popped a young female, with a calf, right in our course.</p> + +<p>“Look out for her!” quoth old Tom Anderly. “She’ll be ugly, sir—with +that kid beside her. Better think twice of it, Mr. Gibson.”</p> + +<p>“Think we’re going to have the other boats give us the yah-yah because +we pass up a fifty-foot she whale, eh?” demanded the young second +officer. “Just step forward here, old timer, and see if you can stick +your fork into her.”</p> + +<p>After all, the mate’s word was law even to the old boat-steerer. They +quickly changed places and Tom took up the iron. The calf was playing on +the far side of its mother, and so we could easily come up upon the nigh +side without being observed.</p> + +<p>In a few moments Tom had her pinned. Then there was the Old Harry to pay +and no pitch hot, as the sailors say!</p> + +<p>The other two whales I had seen killed merely thought of running away +from the thing that had hurt them. But the one we now were fast in had +her baby to care for. She set off running, but would not swim faster +than the calf could travel. We did not put out the full length of one +line.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_158' id='pg_158'>158</a></span>“Haul in! haul in!” cried Ben Gibson, excitedly. “I’ll get a lance in +her.”</p> + +<p>“You be careful, sir,” whispered old Tom, from the stern again, to which +he had gone after throwing the iron. “There ain’t nothing wickeder than +a she whale with a sucking calf, when she’s roused.”</p> + +<p>We had drawn in rather close and could see that the calf was falling +behind. The mother noticed it as well. She feared the thing that had +stung her; but, mother-like, she clung to her little one. She swerved +around and the line fell slack.</p> + +<p>“Look out, now, sir!” cried Tom Anderly again. “She’s mad, and she’s +scared, and she’s looking for us. If she once gits her tail under our +bottom its good-bye Jo for all hands—and the water’s mighty wet +today.”</p> + +<p>Almost as he ceased speaking the wicked eye of the great creature +blinked at the boat, and she came rushing down upon it. Tom threw +himself upon the great steering oar, while Ben shouted:</p> + +<p>“Pull! Pull, you lubbers! Do you want to be swamped by the critter?”</p> + +<p>We bent our backs to the struggle and the whaleboat shot ahead; but the +maddened cow-whale came on, as big as a brick warehouse, and bent on +running us under!</p> + +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='In_Which_I_Come_Very_Near_Going_Out_of_the_Story_3523' id='In_Which_I_Come_Very_Near_Going_Out_of_the_Story_3523'></a> +<p class='center' style='font-variant:small-caps; font-size:large;'>Chapter XVII</p> +<p class='center' style='margin: 0 20% 0 20%; font-size:large'><i>In Which I Come Very Near Going Out of the Story</i></p> +</div> + +<p>Our boat escaped the collision with the mad whale on her first attack. +She rushed by us like a steamer, throwing up a wave from her jaws and +just “humping herself.” Old Tom swerved us about swiftly in her wake and +we came right upon the calf.</p> + +<p>“By jinks! I’ll soak you one for luck, anyway!” ejaculated the angry +second mate, and he up with his lance-gun and put a shot into the little +fellow.</p> + +<p>“Now, sir, we’ll have trouble with her,” grunted Tom, grimly.</p> + +<p>“She’s coming back!” stroke oar shouted.</p> + +<p>It seemed as though the whale knew her young had been killed. She +whirled in the sea and rushed down upon the drifting calf, the blood +from which tinged the sea for yards around its carcass. It was really +pitiful to see her stop at it, and seemingly caress it, drawing it +toward her with her huge fin that <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_160' id='pg_160'>160</a></span>it might suckle. But we were alive to +the chance of getting near enough to lance her, and under whispered +instructions rowed in.</p> + +<p>Mr. Gibson had risen and aimed the gun and was about to fire when the +cow-whale seemed to suddenly understand her loss and her own danger. +With a mighty flirt of her tail (which same came near to swamping our +boat) she “sounded,” as it is called.</p> + +<p>Her head went down and her great tail flirted in the air. Mr. Gibson +went over backward, exploding the gun and sending the bomb-lance into +the air. The whale was out of sight in a flash and the line began to run +over the bow with a speed that made the woodwork smoke.</p> + +<p>I bent on another line and then dipped up some water in the bailer to +throw upon the smoking gunwale. It was at this moment that I came as +close to death as ever whaleman experienced. A lurch of the boat canted +me and I threw out my left hand to prevent myself from diving overboard.</p> + +<p>It was a most unfortunate gesture. In some way that uncoiling line, +which moved so fast one could scarcely follow it with the eye, wrapped +about my arm below the elbow and—like a flash—I was jerked out of the +<span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_161' id='pg_161'>161</a></span>boat and shot beneath the surface of the sea!</p> + +<p>I would like to tell of this terrible incident as it seemed to my mates +in the whaleboat; I presume they were aghast at my flight over the bow +and disappearance. For a man to be carried overboard by the harpoon +line, and entangled in that line, is not an unknown incident in the +annals of whale-fishing. But only one person ever went through the +experience and lived to tell of it before my time—or so I am informed. +This was Captain Parker of the American whaler West Wind.</p> + +<p>I don’t know how the matter seemed to Captain Parker; I can only relate +my own sensations. And, believe me, they were queer enough. I shot down +after the sounding whale with a rapidity that seemed to deprive me of +the ordinary powers of thought or imagination. My only conscious idea +was that I was a dead boy if I could not cut that line!</p> + +<p>I was rushing down into the depths head-foremost—and with the +swiftness, it seemed, of a reversed skyrocket! I thought my arm would be +torn from its socket, so great was the resistance of the water. +Fortunately I had been clothed in a thick jacket, and that jacket-sleeve +saved my arm from being mutilated.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_162' id='pg_162'>162</a></span>I was traveling so fast behind the sounding whale that I could not move +my right arm from my side. It seemed glued there, so closely was it +pressed to my body by the force of the water. The pressure on my brain +became frightful, too, and thunder roared in my ears—or, so it seemed.</p> + +<p>For an instant I opened my eyes. It appeared that a stream of blasting +flame passed before them. I was blinded.</p> + +<p>But, providentially, I was composed. I knew what I was about—rather, +what was happening to me—each moment. I struggled to reach the knife I +wore at my belt; but every second I grew weaker. The compression around +my chest was like that of a tightening band of iron.</p> + +<p>Of course, only seconds elapsed; but it seemed a very, very long time. +Would the whale ever reach the bottom? Would the line ever sag? Far gone +as I was, my brain remained perfectly clear and I was ready to make use +of the least fortunate incident in my favor.</p> + +<p>Then it came—the slackening of the line. I drove forward with a mighty +kick of my feet—a last gasp of strength. My fingers closed on the +handle of the gully, I ripped it <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_163' id='pg_163'>163</a></span>out of its sheath, and slashed the +keen blade across the line.</p> + +<p>I cut my wrist a bit in so doing. Luckily, I cut ahead of the arm +entangled in the line; it was more by good luck than good management.</p> + +<p>My remembrances after that are confused. I know I shot upward from the +dreadful depths, the human body being so much more buoyant than the salt +sea. I lost consciousness slowly. All I finally remember was an +enlarging spot of light toward which I mounted but which seemed to be +miles and miles away!</p> + +<p>I was suffocating. A gurgling spasm seized upon me. Light, and sense, +and all were quenched suddenly. Life was slipping from my grasp.</p> + +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='In_Which_We_Realize_the_Grind_of_the_Whalemans_Life_3628' id='In_Which_We_Realize_the_Grind_of_the_Whalemans_Life_3628'></a> +<p class='center' style='font-variant:small-caps; font-size:large;'>Chapter XVIII</p> +<p class='center' style='margin: 0 20% 0 20%; font-size:large'><i>In Which We Realize the “Grind” of the Whaleman’s Life</i></p> +</div> + +<p>According to Ben Gibson, they immediately gave me up for dead. The +chance that my arm had not been torn away from the shoulder was small, +and once thus crippled they expected the spouting blood to attract the +sharks, and then—good night!</p> + +<p>But while I remained conscious I had not even thought of those monsters; +nor do I believe that a single one of the beasts came near me while I +followed the whale toward the bottom of the sea.</p> + +<p>The men in my boat were helpless. They might not aid me in the least. +Nor did they know when I severed the line and started for the surface +again. The weight of the hemp kept it down, although it stopped running +out. Fortunately it uncoiled from my arm, or I would have been held down +there and drowned.</p> + +<p>They stared in horror over the sides of the <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_165' id='pg_165'>165</a></span>whaleboat, trying to +distinguish any moving object in the depths, and as moment after moment +passed they glanced at each other and shook their heads. I was lost. +They had no hope of ever even seeing me again.</p> + +<p>And then it was that the sharp eyes of the old boat-steerer descried my +arm above the surface, not many yards away.</p> + +<p>“There! look yon!” he yelled. “Pull, you lubbers!”</p> + +<p>They shot the boat ahead and the old man seized me, plunging in his arm +to the shoulder as I sank again. Ben had begun to strip off his +clothing, bound to dive for me if the old man missed. But there was no +need of that, and they hauled me over the side into the boat a deal more +dead than alive.</p> + +<p>Indeed, I fought when they brought me back to consciousness. It was +awful suffering, that recovery—that return to the world which I had +every reason to suppose I had said good-bye to. It was a good half hour +before I began to realize where I was, and what was happening to me.</p> + +<p>We could not go back to the ship, however. Whale fishing is a grim +business. A struck whale has completely smashed a boat, leaving its crew +struggling in the water, and the <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_166' id='pg_166'>166</a></span>other boats have gone on after the +monster and left their companions to paddle about on the wreckage as +best they can until the leviathan is killed.</p> + +<p>The other boats from the Scarboro were all busy and our boat was behind. +We had lost our whale and the better part of two lines had gone with the +iron. Before I could do more than lie on the bottom of the boat, under +the men’s feet, and gasp, we were pulling after the wounded female +again. She had come up for air and lay sullenly on the surface not half +a mile away.</p> + +<p>She was a Tartar; but old Tom got another iron in her, and later Ben +Gibson killed her with two bomb-pointed lances. When the old bark came +down upon us about night she was dead and we hauled her alongside—the +first fish to be grappled to. But the other boats brought in three more. +We were having great luck and for two more days worked like Trojans.</p> + +<p>But the school of cachelots we had followed had disappeared then. The +Scarboro sailed many a league farther south—and toward the Horn—before +we raised a single whale. We were 40 degrees south then—below the de la +Plata. I feared that the old bark would not <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_167' id='pg_167'>167</a></span>put in at Buenos Ayres and +there would be no chance of my returning home by steamship.</p> + +<p>Not that I was yet tired of my work and the life we led. No, indeed. But +I was anxious to hear from home, and I believed letters must be waiting +me there at Buenos Ayres—and money, too.</p> + +<p>No use to think of touching port, however, when the weather was so fine +and whales were so infrequently met with. The whole crew had begun to +get anxious. Mr. Robbins grumbled that he didn’t see the use of roaming +about the South Atlantic, anyway. It was the Pacific that whales +frequented.</p> + +<p>“Why the last time I sailed in a windjammer,” declared the mate, “we +were four weeks getting around the Horn from Santiago, and there wasn’t +a day went over our heads that we didn’t see plenty of whales. The +minute we got onto this side of Fuego we never saw a fin—and we ran to +Bahia. Wouldn’t have known there ever was a whale in this darned old +ocean.”</p> + +<p>But the beginning of the cruise had been fortunate, and the whales had +not entirely forsaken the Atlantic despite the grumbling of the crew. We +killed two small humpedbacks <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_168' id='pg_168'>168</a></span>within the week and then came upon sperms +again. At daybreak the lookout hailed and the sea seemed fairly alive +with them.</p> + +<p>We tumbled out and, with only a pannikin of coffee in our stomachs, and +a cold bite in our fists, made off in the boats for the royal game. Ben +Gibson’s boat had a good tally so far and we were not going to let the +others beat us much. We had our pick of half a dozen sperms and we took +after a bull that seemed promising.</p> + +<p>We struck on and the wounded whale ran a little way in fright, trying +its best to shake out the harpoon. Finding this impossible, despite its +porpoise-like gambols, the whale sounded; then occurred one of the +strangest happenings that can be imagined. The bull went down, and we +paid out a goodly portion of line. Finally the line stopped running, but +the whale did not rise.</p> + +<p>“What do you know about this, Tom?” demanded the young second mate. +“That critter’s gone to sleep down there, hasn’t it?”</p> + +<p>“It’ll be drowned!” exclaimed the old harpooner. “That’s what’ll happen +to it.”</p> + +<p>“Drowned!” cackled one of the crew. “What you givin’ us, old hardshell? +Drown <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_169' id='pg_169'>169</a></span>a whale, eh? That’s like the boy that pumped water on the frog to +drown him.”</p> + +<p>“You wait and see,” growled old Tom. “If that bull don’t come up pretty +soon we’ll have a circus with it, now I tell ye!”</p> + +<p>The whale gave no sign. We tried hauling on the line, and of course it +wouldn’t budge.</p> + +<p>“It’s sure got its feet stuck in the mud down there,” admitted the +second mate, and he stood up and wigwagged frantically for the ship.</p> + +<p>There were only four boats out and the captain himself chanced to be +aboard. He knew old Tom would not give up anything easy, and so he +brought the Scarboro into hailing distance and we told him what had +happened. We had caught a Tartar; the whale wouldn’t come to the surface +and we couldn’t let go without losing our line and iron. It was no use +jerking on that line. One can’t play a whale like a rock bass!</p> + +<p>We rowed to the ship and the line was carried aboard and tagged onto a +winch. We got at it right then and, before long, up came the dead body +of a whale. It was a good sized one—indeed, I thought at the start that +it was bigger looking close beside the bark than it had seemed when we +struck on.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_170' id='pg_170'>170</a></span>And pretty soon we found out the reason why it seemed different. We +couldn’t find the harpoon Tom Anderly had thrown into it! The line was +found jammed to the back of the whale’s mouth and wound round its +body—whales will roll over and over when struck just as an old salmon +will when hooked.</p> + +<p>That whale was drowned. A whale isn’t a fish, anyway, and this one had +been under water so long that it was too late, as Ben Gibson said, to +bring forward any “first aid to the drowned” business!</p> + +<p>What puzzled us all—from Captain Hi down to the cook’s cat—was what +had become of the iron?</p> + +<p>“And, by jingoes!” cried the second mate, “we ain’t got all our line +back.”</p> + +<p>This was plainly a fact. When the whale was grappled onto the bark’s +side and the line unwound, we found that it still hung down into the sea +and was quite taut.</p> + +<p>“This blamed critter was anchored!” growled Tom Anderly. “And he dragged +his anchor at that.”</p> + +<p>“Get onto the winch, boys,” said Captain Rogers. “Let’s see what’s hung +to it now.”</p> + +<p>We wound in the line and up came the whale that we had actually struck! +The <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_171' id='pg_171'>171</a></span>harpoon still held in its body. Good reason why I had thought the +first whale seemed different from the one we had chased.</p> + +<p>Of course, this whale was drowned, too. When it sounded, the other whale +must have crossed our line while feeding with open mouth. Feeling the +strange sensation of the hemp in the back of its mouth, the creature had +instinctively closed its jaws and, in the struggle, wound the line about +its body and been drowned.</p> + +<p>Of course, this had kept the first whale down until it had drowned and, +marvelous to relate, we had got the both of them—and a tidy addition to +our cargo they proceeded to make. The luck of the second mate’s boat +became proverbial after that haul.</p> + +<p>But despite our luck, the real grind of the whaleman’s life was taking +hold of us now. It was work—hard, bone labor—if we “had luck,” and it +was likewise work if we missed and rowed hour after hour after an +elusive sperm or, at the end of the day, had to row empty handed back to +the bark.</p> + +<p>Ben Gibson loved money; but he admitted to me that a fifteen hundred +dollar prize for the voyage would scarcely pay him for the work and +grind of our daily life aboard the Scarboro.</p> + +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='In_Which_Is_Reported_a_Series_of_Misadventures_3817' id='In_Which_Is_Reported_a_Series_of_Misadventures_3817'></a> +<p class='center' style='font-variant:small-caps; font-size:large;'>Chapter XIX</p> +<p class='center' style='margin: 0 20% 0 20%; font-size:large'><i>In Which Is Reported a Series of Misadventures</i></p> +</div> + +<p>It began much as other busy days had begun for us of the Scarboro, since +we got upon the whaling grounds; the fires under the trying-out kettles +were scarcely quenched when, just at daybreak, came the hail of the man +in the crowsnest:</p> + +<p>“On deck, sir! Ah-h blows!”</p> + +<p>“Where away?” bawled Captain Rogers, who seemed tireless himself and +expected every man and boy aboard to catch the inspiration of a sight +that had now become terribly commonplace to us—a spouting cachelot.</p> + +<p>“Two p’ints on yer weather bow, sir.”</p> + +<p>The captain started up the rigging and in a moment the lookout repeated:</p> + +<p>“Thar she blo-o-ows!”</p> + +<p>“I see her!” bawled the captain. Then turning, his roar penetrated to +the fo’castle: “All hands on deck! Tumble up here! Lively now! Sperm +whale, ain’t she, John?”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_173' id='pg_173'>173</a></span>“Aye, sir, sir!” returned the lookout. “There she breaches!” as one of +the creatures up-ended. A dozen had suddenly come into sight—appearing +like imps in a pantomime—“from the vasty deep.”</p> + +<p>As Captain Hi came down Mr. Robbins reached the quarter.</p> + +<p>“Seems a powerful sight of whales, Mr. Robbins,” the old man said, +passing the mate the glasses.</p> + +<p>Mr. Robbins went up and took a good squint all around the horizon.</p> + +<p>“Three hundred if there’s one, Cap’n!” he declared with reverent +enthusiasm.</p> + +<p>“Does seem so, doesn’t it?” admitted the captain.</p> + +<p>The crew had tumbled up and were getting the boats ready. Only four were +going out, but the skipper stayed us until we had had breakfast.</p> + +<p>“We’re going into a man’s job this morning,” he grunted. “We want to be +prepared for it.”</p> + +<p>It might be that some of the boat crews wouldn’t be back at the ship for +eighteen hours. It often happened, and pulling a heavy ash oar on an +empty stomach is not an inspiring job.</p> + +<p>Inside of five minutes after the first hail <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_174' id='pg_174'>174</a></span>the whales spouting from +one end of the skyline to the other. We had run into the biggest herd of +sperms that the oldest whaleman on the Scarboro had ever seen. Maybe we +didn’t feel excited! At such times as this one forgets the “grind.” +There was both money and excitement ahead of us. We actually sloughed +off the weariness we had felt after a steady twenty-four hours’ spell at +the try-out kettles.</p> + +<p>We lowered and spread out, fanwise, from the bark and made for the +whales. No need of racing this morning. As Tom said, it looked as though +a harpoon thrown into the air in almost any direction would hit a whale +when it came down!</p> + +<p>I was eager to throw an iron myself. I had the physique for it, being +such a stocky fellow. And the hard life I had lived since being swept +out to sea in my <i>Wavecrest</i> had agreed with me. My muscles were like +wire cables, I was burned as black as a negro, and there was scarcely a +man aboard the bark whom I could not have flung in a fair wrestle.</p> + +<p>“Give Clint his chance, Tom,” said Mr. Gibson, as the boat-steerer came +forward. “If he misses, you can throw a second iron.”</p> + +<p>I was tickled enough at this. Old Tom had given me plenty of advice +before about the <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_175' id='pg_175'>175</a></span>handling of the harpoon, and I tried to remember all +of his teaching as I released my bow oar and took up the first iron.</p> + +<p>Perhaps it would be interesting to my readers if I told them something +about this weapon of the whaleman. The bomb-lance and gun are all very +well; but the harpoon is the real weapon on which the whaleman must +depend. This iron must be right and the line attached to it must be +right, or the best of harpooners will make a poor tally.</p> + +<p>The whale line is a fine manila rope 1-1/2 inches thick. It is stretched +and coiled with the greatest care into tubs, some holding two hundred +fathoms, some a hundred fathoms. The harpoons are fixed to poles of +rough, heavy wood, every care being taken to make them as strong as +possible. And their weight necessitates a harpooner being chosen from +among the biggest and strongest men in the ship.</p> + +<p>The harpoon blade is made like an arrow, but with only one barb, which +turns on a steel pivot. The point of the harpoon blade is ground as +sharp as a razor on one side and blunt on the other. The shaft is about +thirty inches long and made of the best soft iron so that it is +practically impossible to break it. Three irons were always placed in +our boat, <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_176' id='pg_176'>176</a></span>fitted one above the other in the starboard bow. If the +harpooner missed with one iron, or if there was time to fling a second, +he could reach and get it handily.</p> + +<p>In the old days the lances were slung in the port bow. It was with the +lance the whale was actually killed. The harpoon only serves to make the +boat fast to its prize. The lances were slender spears about four feet +long with broad points. The old-time whalemen were rowed right up to the +side of the ironed monster, after it had tired itself out fighting, and +the officer in the bow had to churn the lance up and down in the great +beast until the point reached a vital spot.</p> + +<p>For this reason there were many more serious accidents in the old times +than now. In each boat belonging to the Scarboro there was stowed a +lance-gun in place of the lances. The bomb-lance is surer than the +old-time lance, and keeps the boat and crew farther from the seat of +peril.</p> + +<p>I rose up as soon as we drove in near the big bull that we had been +approaching. And it <i>was</i> a big fellow! I think it was as large a sperm +as we had seen. Its upper jaw and head was covered with lumps and scars +of old wounds. Along the flank was a half-healed, jagged gash, too.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_177' id='pg_177'>177</a></span>“That old boy’s collided with something,” grumbled Tom Anderly in my +ear. “I believe he’s a rogue.”</p> + +<p>I had heard of ancient, isolated he-elephants being called “rogue;” but +I did not know before that whalemen believe that certain old bull whales +are just as savage and revengeful as tigers. Indeed, among all wild +creatures—either on land or in the sea—there seem to be ancient bulls +that go off from their kind and sulk. They easily “run amuck”—perhaps +are really insane. To attack them is far more perilous than to attack a +herd of their normal fellows.</p> + +<p>This old bull whale, however, had not deserted the society of his +fellows; but he proved to be as ugly a customer as we could have found +in all that school of three hundred or more sperms!</p> + +<p>“He looks bad to me,” whispered Tom Anderly. “He’s a fighter. He’s +probably smashed more boats in his time than the old hooker carries when +she’s nested up full. Gosh! look at the warts on him.”</p> + +<p>“And that gash in his side,” said Ben. “How do you suppose that +happened?”</p> + +<p>“Looks just like he’d rubbed against a copper keel,” declared the old +man.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_178' id='pg_178'>178</a></span>I thought they were trying to scare me. But I learned later that it was +not an uncommon thing for an old whale to use a ship’s keel to rub +himself against—it scrapes off the barnacles!</p> + +<p>I just gave old Tom a grim look, however, and seized the harpoon. We +were creeping up on the bull and I intended to make a good cast. The +creature was weaving slowly along and not paying any attention to our +boat at all. My! he did look enormous. The nearer we came to him the +more threatening was his appearance. He was more than a hundred feet +long, I was sure. He would have weighed as much as twenty-five of the +biggest elephants that ever showed in a menagerie.</p> + +<p>I am free to confess I felt <i>queer</i>, as that slate-colored monster +loomed up before our bow. With one flop of its tail it could smash the +craft and give us all a ducking—perhaps kill half the crew. Many of the +old whalers’ yarns I remembered as I poised that heavy shaft.</p> + +<p>But then old Tom whispered: “<i>Now!</i>” I let go with all my might. The +harpoon sunk into the huge bull until half its staff was hidden! I had +made as pretty a cast as ever Tom Anderly could himself.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_179' id='pg_179'>179</a></span>“Back all!” shouted Gibson.</p> + +<p>Our craft shot backward while the bull gave a startled plunge forward, +and the line began to run out fast. In half a minute the beast sounded +and we prepared for a long fight. But suddenly he was up again and shot +two or three geysers of water into the air. He lay still and we began to +take in the slack.</p> + +<p>“Call this a fight?” muttered the second mate, with scorn.</p> + +<p>I had slipped into my seat and the mate was changing with Tom again, +bent upon using the gun for the finishing touches. Suddenly the old bull +started. He did not come for the boat but headed directly for the bark, +lying not more than half a mile away. He went so fast we could scarcely +see the harpoon line. He made the sea about him boil, and the waves in +his wake (for we were close up to him) almost swamped us.</p> + +<p>“What’s he going to do?” screamed Gibson.</p> + +<p>“Holy mackerel!” groaned the stroke oarsman. “He’s going to bunt the old +hooker.”</p> + +<p>“That’s what he’s up to,” agreed Tom Anderly; “he’s after revenge. And +if he hits the Scarboro <i>right</i>, we’re likely to have a nice time rowing +ashore, boys—you can take my word for that!”</p> + +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='In_Which_Our_Chapter_of_Bad_Luck_Is_Continued_4012' id='In_Which_Our_Chapter_of_Bad_Luck_Is_Continued_4012'></a> +<p class='center' style='font-variant:small-caps; font-size:large;'>Chapter XX</p> +<p class='center' style='margin: 0 20% 0 20%; font-size:large'><i>In Which Our Chapter of Bad Luck Is Continued</i></p> +</div> + +<p>That old bull was sure a fighting whale. The annals of whaling do not +lack records of such old rogues, as witness the sinking of the Kathleen, +of New Bedford on the “12-40 ground” east of the Barbadoes in 1901. A +bad whale can do a lot of damage besides smashing whaleboats. Thus far +we had suffered no loss from the monsters which the Scarboro was +hunting; but as this old bull shot like an arrow for the scarred side of +the bark, which was hove to less than half a mile away, it did look as +though she was due to get a bad bump.</p> + +<p>We were on a short line, however, for the bull had not sounded deeply. +Ben Gibson sprang up with the bomb gun and tried to put a lance in the +beast at that distance. It only scratched him, I suppose, but it <i>did</i> +seem to swerve him from his course.</p> + +<p>Instead of striking the Scarboro, he ran past <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_181' id='pg_181'>181</a></span>her stern and circled +around her. We were snatched after the whale at racing speed and saw the +fellows aboard hanging over the rail grinning at us—like spectators at +a horse race.</p> + +<p>“Them sculpins wouldn’t grin so broad if the critter had bumped the +Scarboro,” declared Tom Anderly.</p> + +<p>The beast lay quiet for a bit and we pulled up on him. Before Gibson +could get him with the lance gun again, he sounded.</p> + +<p>“Now, by gravy!” exclaimed old Tom, who had a wealth of expletives in +him when he was excited, “look out for squalls.”</p> + +<p>“He’s been squally enough already, hasn’t he?” demanded our young +officer.</p> + +<p>“You ain’t seen the end yet, sir,” returned the old man.</p> + +<p>“Well, I bet I <i>do</i> see the end——”</p> + +<p>He broke off with a sharp intake of breath. Then: “Stern all!” he +ejaculated.</p> + +<p>Up through the green sea came a huge shadow. We could not shoot the boat +back in time to clear the monster. The whale had turned and shot up +under the boat!</p> + +<p>The boat jarred as the prolonged lower jaw of the bull whale struck her +keel forward. There was a mighty rush of waters, like a cataract; the +whaleboat was flung aside, and <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_182' id='pg_182'>182</a></span>Ben Gibson shot over the bow and fell +right into the open mouth of the whale!</p> + +<p>I know I screamed something—I don’t know what I said. The boat was +shooting back under the impetus of the oars, and we escaped overturning.</p> + +<p>But I had seen Ben fall and saw him disappear into the cavern of the +creature’s mouth. I saw, too, the jaws come together once, and I swear +our second mate was in the bull’s mouth when it closed!</p> + +<p>But the next moment the maw of the beast opened and in the swirl of foam +and blood-streaked water I caught sight of the senseless Gibson.</p> + +<p>“Pull!” I yelled.</p> + +<p>And although I had no business to give a command, the men obeyed me and +the boat shot forward again. I seized our second mate by his shirt +collar. In a moment I had lifted him into the boat.</p> + +<p>At the same moment Tom Anderly got forward, seized the gun which poor +Gibson had dropped, and sent a bomb-lance into the whale at so short a +distance that it seemed as though we might have touched him by putting +out a hand.</p> + +<p>But that fighting whale died hard. It <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_183' id='pg_183'>183</a></span>leaped after the bomb exploded +and again we were almost overturned.</p> + +<p>“Cut loose! Let the beast go!” cried some of the men.</p> + +<p>But Tom Anderly would not lift the boat hatchet. To cut a whale free, +unless it becomes absolutely necessary, is “against the religion” of any +old whaler. As for myself, I was bending over the injured second mate, +trying to revive him.</p> + +<p>Ben Gibson had been through a most awful experience. Old Cap’n Wood, of +Nantucket, had been in the mouth of a whale, and lived to tell the +story. I remembered of reading about his experience. But it was a most +awful accident and I feared indeed that the young officer was dead.</p> + +<p>Therefore I was not really cognizant of what was going on until half the +crew of our boat began to shriek a multitude of commands and advice. +Then I looked up and saw that the bull whale for a second time was +charging the Scarboro.</p> + +<p>It was plain the old fellow realized that the bark was his enemy. He +paid no attention to the boat that was tearing through the sea behind +him. And we was so near the bark now that nothing could be done to +swerve the the fighting whale!</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_184' id='pg_184'>184</a></span>Straight on dashed the big bull, at a speed that snubbed the +whaleboat’s nose under water, for we were close up to the beast. +Straight on, with tremendous headway and a fearful, gathering momentum, +headed for the grimy, battle-scarred broadside of the old Scarboro. +Those aboard of the bark could do nothing. She was still hove to. The +fighting whale had missed her by a hand’s breadth once before, but this +time he did not swerve.</p> + +<p>“Cut loose, Tom!” I yelled, finally understanding—as did the other men +with us—the menacing disaster. In a few seconds we would smash into the +bark’s hull, whether the whale dived or not.</p> + +<p>But the bull didn’t dive, and Tom swung the axe. His quick stroke +severed the line and every man in our boat was awake to the impending +catastrophe. Stroke sprang for the long steering oar. The rapid swing of +it barely swerved the heavy boat out of the course of sure disaster.</p> + +<p>On went the released whale. Plumb his head smashed against the hull of +the big bark. The collision was a most awful shock. Consider a heavy +train pushing a mogul locomotive down grade ahead of it, and the whole +<span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_185' id='pg_185'>185</a></span>thing ramming another train—the result could have been no more awful.</p> + +<p>The three-inch plank of which the vessel’s side was made splintered like +the thinnest veneer. The ends of big timbers in her hull were ground to +pulp and matchwood. With a terrific splash of his tail, the fighting +whale rolled over, after rebounding from the bark, and lay, seemingly +stunned!</p> + +<p>The bark, driven over almost on her beam ends, righted slowly. We knew +the whale must be as good as dead, but we had no thought for him then. +The smashing of the Scarboro might mean torture and death to every man +of her crew. We were out of the track of general steamship routes, and +far, far from land. If the bark sank, we were done for!</p> + +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='In_Which_the_Wavecrest_Sets_Sail_Again_4148' id='In_Which_the_Wavecrest_Sets_Sail_Again_4148'></a> +<p class='center' style='font-variant:small-caps; font-size:large;'>Chapter XXI</p> +<p class='center' style='margin: 0 20% 0 20%; font-size:large'><i>In Which the Wavecrest Sets Sail Again</i></p> +</div> + +<p>Nobody gave any further thought to the whale. My own eyes were set upon +that yawning wound in the hull of the old Scarboro. After the shock of +the collision the bark righted slowly, and when she did so the sea +rushed into the hole in a most awful fashion.</p> + +<p>We rowed rapidly toward the bark and made fast to the hoisting tackle. +We had a sling let down for the second mate, who was still unconscious. +Before we got him on the deck and got aboard ourselves, Captain Rogers +had all hands remaining aboard at work to stop the dreadful leak.</p> + +<p>Had all six of the boats been out at this time I fully believe the +Scarboro would have gone to the bottom. Or, if there had been any sea to +speak of, she would have gone down inside of two hours.</p> + +<p>But being right on the job, as you might say, Captain Hi lost few +seconds in the work of <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_187' id='pg_187'>187</a></span>seeking to save the bark—and, incidentally, all +hands. He did not even take the time to see how badly his nephew was +hurt just then. As our crew came over the rail he set them to work, too.</p> + +<p>“Take poor Ben below and let cookee do what he can for him,” he bawled +to me. “I want you to deck here, Webb.”</p> + +<p>There was a light breeze, and he had some canvas put on her and got the +old bark hove over so that the hole the whale had smashed (it was right +at the water-line) was where it could be got at. Of course, it was +impossible at first to do anything from inside. There were two men on +the pumps and they kept steadily at work, now I tell you.</p> + +<p>Mr. Rudd, the carpenter, was not aboard; but Captain Webb did all that +could be done at the moment. He put slings under the arms of two men and +let them down the canted side of the craft, on either side of the great +gap. Then canvas was let down—three thicknesses of heavy, new +cloth—and this was laid over the hole after the splinters were cut +away, and tacked to the hull, cleats being used to hold it in place all +the way around.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile the tar-buckets had been heated up, and those fellows gave the +canvas and the <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_188' id='pg_188'>188</a></span>hull all about it a good coating of tar. We ran several +miles on this tack, and until the job was completed. Then, when the men +and the tar-buckets were inboard again, the Scarboro was put over on the +other tack and we beat back toward the whaleboats.</p> + +<p>I can’t say that no water came in; but we could keep the water down by +working steadily at the pumps; and before night we had the other boats +aboard, and three whales—including the old bull that had done the +damage—strung together nearby. We could do nothing toward cutting up +and trying-out the whales until the bark was safe.</p> + +<p>A sharp blow just then would have fixed us, and that’s a fact. Mr. Rudd +and his helpers went below and broke out enough cargo to get at the hole +stove in her side. Meanwhile we had to keep the pump brakes moving and +the water that flowed from the pipes and out at the hawser-holes was as +clear as the sea itself. The old bark had settled a good bit, and we +were by no means out of danger.</p> + +<p>Here we were, by the Captain’s reckoning, all of four hundred miles +southwest of Cape St. Antonio, which is south of the huge mouth of the +de la Plata. To set sail for the principal port of Argentina—or any +other port—would <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_189' id='pg_189'>189</a></span>not suit Captain Hiram Rogers a little bit. Nor am I +at all sure that, crippled as she was, the bark could have got to land.</p> + +<p>Mr. Rudd would be some days repairing the damage done by the fighting +whale. And meanwhile, what was going to become of poor Ben Gibson?</p> + +<p>For our cheerful, boyish second mate was badly hurt. Consider: the whale +had actually shut his jaws on Ben, and that one crunch should, by good +rights, have finished the young fellow.</p> + +<p>But he was reserved for a better fate, it seemed. When the captain +overhauled his nephew, he found that he had sustained, beside the scalp +wound from which he bled so much, a broken arm, a lacerated leg above +the knee, and several broken ribs. These ribs and possible internal +injuries are what feazed Captain Hi. He was no mean “catch as catch can” +surgeon; most whaling captains have had to tackle serious medical and +surgical difficulties in their careers.</p> + +<p>Ben, however, was the skipper’s own flesh and blood—his sister’s child. +He couldn’t face that sister (she was a widow) if he brought Ben back to +New Bedford a cripple for life. And the whale had certainly smashed him +up badly.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_190' id='pg_190'>190</a></span>“Clint Webb,” he said to me, in a most serious tone, when he had made +his examination of the poor fellow, “we are in a bad hole. It’ll take a +week o’ fair weather for the carpenter to make us all tight again—and +we ain’t even sure of the weather. Then, there’s the three whales +alongside. We can’t throw them away. The crew would have cause to +complain. But this boy ought to have doctor’s care.”</p> + +<p>I agreed with him, but had nothing to offer.</p> + +<p>“I couldn’t sail for the Plate now,” he ruminated, “if I wanted to. +Repairs of the ship must come before repairs of the boy. Webb! it’s a +good season, and the winds are fair. Would you make an attempt to get +Ben to Buenos Ayres in that sloop of yours?”</p> + +<p>“In a minute!” I declared, quickly, for the suggestion went hand in hand +with the desire I had been milling in my mind for days.</p> + +<p>“I’ll mark you a chart. You can’t miss of it. Anyhow, you’ll hit land if +you keep on going. There are fine hospitals at Buenos Ayres. I’d feel +more as though I’d done my duty by Ben if I got him there. I’ll find you +a man to go along. Two of you can work that sloop prettily.”</p> + +<p>“Aye, aye, sir,” I agreed.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_191' id='pg_191'>191</a></span>He bustled away and brought back old Tom Anderly. I couldn’t have +wished for anybody else. In a quarter of an hour we had agreed on +everything. Tom and Ben were to stick around Buenos Ayres until they +heard from Captain Rogers, or the Scarboro put in for them. Of course, I +would be free once I got to land, unless I wanted to stick the voyage +out and claim my lay at the end. However, I was to have one hundred +dollars in gold from the captain, and the sloop, whichever way I +decided.</p> + +<p>Captain Rogers had set Ben’s arm and dressed his other wounds. Ben was +conscious, but in great pain from the broken ribs. He knew what we were +going to attempt, and he was willing to trust himself to old Tom and me. +And the next morning, as soon as it was light, the <i>Wavecrest</i> was slung +over the side, her mast stepped, and the riggers got to work on her. By +noon she was provisioned and everything was ready for our cruise.</p> + +<p>Ben Gibson was let down into the cockpit of the <i>Wavecrest</i> on a +mattress and was got comfortably into the cabin without any trouble. +There was a steady breeze, but the sea was calm. The crew bade us +godspeed and the skipper wrung my hand hard; but only said:</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_192' id='pg_192'>192</a></span>“Do the best you can for him, Webb. I’m trustin’ to you and Tom to pull +the lad through.”</p> + +<p>We got the canvas up and sheered off from the Scarboro’s side. We could +hear the muffled hammering of the carpenter and his mates inside her +wounded hull. They were fighting to keep the old hooker above the seas. +As we drifted away from the whaling bark I was not at all sure that we +should ever see her above the seas again.</p> + +<p>Our canvas filled and the sloop got a bone in her teeth and walked away +with it just as prettily as ever she had sailed in Bolderhead Harbor.</p> + +<p>“She’s a beauty boat, lad,” growled old Tom Anderly. “And she’s taking +us out o’ range o’ them carcasses—Whew! they sartainly do begin to +stink. I don’t begredge the boys their job of cutting them whales up +when they git at it.”</p> + +<p>We left the gulls and the sharks behind, with the bark and the rotting +whales, and soon they were all far away—mere specks upon the horizon.</p> + +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='In_Which_We_Sail_the_Silver_River_and_I_See_a_Face_I_Know_4303' id='In_Which_We_Sail_the_Silver_River_and_I_See_a_Face_I_Know_4303'></a> +<p class='center' style='font-variant:small-caps; font-size:large;'>Chapter XXII</p> +<p class='center' style='margin: 0 20% 0 20%; font-size:large'><i>In Which We Sail the Silver River and I See a Face I Know</i></p> +</div> + +<p>I had covered, perhaps, almost as much open sea when I was blown out of +Bolderhead in the sloop, as now lay between the Scarboro and Cape St. +Antonio. But, as you might say, I had taken that first trip blindly. +This time I had my eyes open and all my wits about me—and I knew that +we had taken a big contract. The <i>Wavecrest</i> was a mere cockle-shell in +which to cross such a waste of open sea as that which lay between us and +the mouth of Rio de la Plata.</p> + +<p>But the <i>Wavecrest</i> was a seaworthy craft, and that indeed had been +proved. She had been freshly caulked while she lay on the deck of the +Scarboro, and her seams did not let in enough water to keep her sweet. +She sailed well in either a light or heavy wind and I really had no fear +that we should not make the great seaport of the Argentine Republic all +in good time.</p> + +<p>It was bad for poor Ben Gibson, however. The sun was hot and in the +cabin the atmosphere was sometimes stifling. However, the captain had +warned me to keep the fellow as quiet as possible and not to move him if +it could be helped before we reached our destination.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_194' id='pg_194'>194</a></span>Old Tom sailed the sloop most of the time, and I gave my attention to +the wounded youth. But we tried to keep something like watch and watch. +We only slept by snatches, however, and never a cloud appeared in the +sky as big as a man’s hand that we did not watch it cautiously. As for +sail, or steam, we saw neither till we raised the cloudy headland that +marked Cape St. Antonio on the skyline.</p> + +<p>It was a pretty tame cruise to write about, for nothing really occurred. +We were only on the watch for some untoward happening; that made it +nerve wracking. But even when we sighted the spur of land which we knew +marked the southern boundary of the de la Plata—the widest mouth of any +river on the globe, for it is not masked by islands at all—we were not +out of danger. The peril of gales still menaced us. We had many miles to +sail yet before we reached Buenos Ayres.</p> + +<p>Indeed, we got a stiff blow before sighting Point Piedras; but it +favored us after all, and the <i>Wavecrest</i> ran before it at a spanking +pace. We had sighted plenty of other craft now—both sail and steam. One +great, red-funneled steamship came in behind us, and at first we thought +it was making for Montevideo, which is on the northern side of the +river; but finally old Tom made out the steamer and what she was.</p> + +<p>“It’s one of the Bayne Line steamers from Boston,” he declared. “I know +them red pipes. They touch at Para, Bahia, and other <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_195' id='pg_195'>195</a></span>ports. She’s bound +for Buenos Ayres now—no doubt of it.”</p> + +<p>The little squall that had kicked up something of a sea had now passed. +The great steamship overhauled us rapidly. I chanced to be at the helm +and I kept my head over my shoulder a good deal of the time, watching +the approach of the great, rusty-hulled craft. Somehow I felt as though +I had some connection with the boat. A foolish feeling, perhaps; yet I +could not shake it off.</p> + +<p>The <i>Wavecrest</i> was bowling along nicely so I could give my attention to +the big ship, which I soon made out to be the Peveril. Old Tom was +right. She was one of the Bayne Line ships, coming from Boston—coming +from home, as you might say! To tell the truth, I was a good bit +home-sick.</p> + +<p>I let my mind wander back to Bolderhead. Circumstances had made it +possible for me to leave the Scarboro, and I was now nearing Buenos +Ayres where I had written my mother to cable me money at the American +consul’s bureau. I had got enough of whaling. Adventure and travel is +all right; but I had had a taste of it, and found it to be merely an +alias for hard work!</p> + +<p>“It’s me for home on the first steamship going north,” I told myself, +wisely. “I’ve had adventure enough to last me a while.”</p> + +<p>I was sailing on the Silver River, as the exploring Spaniards had first +called this noble stream, and there might be a lot of fun and hard work +ahead of me if I remained with old <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_196' id='pg_196'>196</a></span>Tom and Ben Gibson until they +rejoined the Scarboro. But I wasn’t tied to them. I’d probably have +plenty of money with which to pay my passage home; and just then I +wanted to see my mother, and Ham Mayberry, and lots of other folk in +Bolderhead, more than I wanted to be knocking about in strange quarters +of the world.</p> + +<p>I glanced around at the steamship again. She had almost caught up to us, +for although the sloop had a fair wind, the Peveril was sailing three +lengths to our one. On and on she came, the smoke pouring from her +stacks. Her high, rusty side loomed up not more than a cable’s length +away. I could see the passengers walking on her upper decks, and the +officers on her bridge. Below, the ports were open, their steel shutters +let down on their chains like drop-shelves.</p> + +<p>Some of the crew were looking out idly upon the <i>Wavecrest</i> as the +steamship slipped by. A cook in a white cap came to one port and threw +some slop into the sea. As he emptied the bucket my eyes roved to the +very next port aft. There somebody sat peeling vegetables. I could see +the flash of the knife in the sunlight, and the long paring of potato +peel curling off the knifeblade.</p> + +<p>It was an idle glance I had turned upon the vegetable peeler. He was +only a cook’s apprentice, or scullion. There was no reason why my gaze +should have fastened upon him with interest. Yet my eyes lingered, and +<span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_197' id='pg_197'>197</a></span>suddenly the fellow raised his head and his face was turned toward the +open port.</p> + +<p>The mental shock I experienced made me inattentive to my helm and the +<i>Wavecrest</i> fell off. Old Tom sang out to know what I was about, and +silently I brought the sloop’s nose back again. The steamship had +slipped by us and the wake of her set the little craft to jumping.</p> + +<p>My mind was in a fog. I steered mechanically. The face I had seen at the +open port of the Peveril was still before me, as in a vision. I knew I +had not been tricked by any hallucination. I had not even been thinking +of the fellow at the time. And I was sure that the cook’s assistant +aboard the Peveril had not seen and recognized me.</p> + +<p>But I could not be mistaken in my identification of that face at the +port. It was that of my cousin, Paul Downes—Paul Downes, here on the de +la Plata, thousands of miles from home, and evidently working in the +menial position of cook’s helper on the steamship, Peveril! Is it to be +wondered that I was amazed?</p> + +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='In_Which_I_Begin_to_Wonder_Is_It_Me_or_Is_It_Not_Me_4428' id='In_Which_I_Begin_to_Wonder_Is_It_Me_or_Is_It_Not_Me_4428'></a> +<p class='center' style='font-variant:small-caps; font-size:large;'>Chapter XXIII</p> +<p class='center' style='margin: 0 20% 0 20%; font-size:large'><i>In Which I Begin to Wonder “Is It Me, or Is It Not Me?”</i></p> +</div> + +<p>I had told nobody aboard the Scarboro the particulars of my home-life, +or the incidents leading to my being swept out to sea in the +<i>Wavecrest</i>. Had Ben Gibson been my mate in the crew instead of holding +the position of second officer, undoubtedly he would have had my full +confidence. As things stood, I had no desire to take either Ben or the +old sailor into closer communion with my thoughts.</p> + +<p>The great steamship passed us and swept up the Silver River, leaving the +<i>Wavecrest</i> far behind. She would reach Buenos Ayres fully twenty-four +hours before the sloop could make that port. But this delay did not +trouble me at the time. I wanted to think the situation over, anyway.</p> + +<p>At the start I was pretty sure that Paul Downes had not come down here +on my account. He wasn’t looking for me. Nor did it seem that he had +left home under very favorable circumstances. Otherwise he would not be +peeling vegetables for the cook of the Peveril.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_199' id='pg_199'>199</a></span>After the first confusion passed from my mind I could pretty easily +figure out the probable incidents that had brought my cousin down here. +I knew about how long it had taken the steamship to voyage from her home +port. Had my letters been delivered in Bolderhead within reasonable +time, my mother and Ham, and the others must have been aware of the +explanation of my absence a week or two previous to the sailing of the +Peveril from Boston.</p> + +<p>I had told Mr. Hounsditch, our lawyer, the whole truth about my sloop +being swept away; I had likewise advised Ham Mayberry to gather what +evidence he could against my cousin and those who had helped him commit +the outrage that had placed me in such peril. It was a cinch that Paul +had got wind of these discoveries, had been fearful of being arrested +for his part in the crime, and had run away from home.</p> + +<p>In doing so, too, it was evident that his father, Mr. Chester Downes, +had not been a party to his escape. Paul had slipped away without his +father’s help or knowledge of his going. Otherwise Paul would not have +been in a moneyless state, and he must have been moneyless before he +would have gone to work. Paul didn’t love work, I knew; and I could +imagine that there was no fun connected with the job he seemed to have +annexed aboard the Peveril.</p> + +<p>I reckoned I should probably hear all about it when I went to the +consul’s office at <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_200' id='pg_200'>200</a></span>Buenos Ayres. Either my mother, or Ham, would write +me the particulars of Paul’s running away from home. The Bayne Liner was +no mailboat; I expected that my letters had been awaiting me for some +time at the port; and the money could have been cabled nearly a month +before this date.</p> + +<p>Well, we got into Buenos Ayres in good season, and I noted where the +Peveril was docked. We moored outside a raft of small sailing crafts and +had the dickens of a time taking Ben Gibson ashore on his mattress. A +couple of blacks helped us, and after sending in a telephone message to +the hospital, a very modern and up-to-date motor ambulance came down and +whisked us all off to that institution. I couldn’t speak Spanish, nor +could Ben; but those medicos could talk English after a fashion, and +soon Ben was fixed fine in a private room and the doctors declared he’d +be fit as a fiddle in six weeks.</p> + +<p>Then it was up to old Tom and me to find a place to camp. The sailor was +for going back to the sloop where board and lodging wouldn’t cost us +much; but I confess I was hungry for something more civilized. I wanted +bed-sheets and ham and eggs for breakfast—or whatever the Buenos Ayres +equivalent was for those viands!</p> + +<p>We made some inquiries—of course along the water-front—and found a +decent sailors’ boarding house kept by a withered old Mestizo woman (the +Mestizoes are the native population of Argentina) who had some idea of +<span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_201' id='pg_201'>201</a></span>cleanliness and could cook beans and fish in more ways than you could +shake a stick at; only, as Tom objected very soon, all her culinary +results tasted alike because of the pepper!</p> + +<p>It was after breakfast the morning following our arrival that Tom +uttered this criticism. We were on our way to the hospital. We found Ben +feeling “bully” as he weakly told us, when we were allowed to go up to +his private room. Captain Rogers had given him drafts on a local banker +and he was fixed <i>right</i> at that hospital. The doctors had examined him +again and pronounced him coming on fine. So, with my mind at rest about +him, I tacked away for the little dobe building down toward the +water-front which at that day flew the American flag from the staff upon +its roof.</p> + +<p>It was a busy place and most of the clerks I saw were Mestizoes, or +Spaniards, or the several shades of color between the two races. Spanish +seemed to be spoken for the most part; but finally a man came out of a +rear office and asked me abruptly what I wanted.</p> + +<p>“I’d like to see Mr. Hefferan,” I said.</p> + +<p>“He’s busy. Can’t see him. What do you want?” snapped this man.</p> + +<p>“I’m an American, and I’d like to see him,” I began, but the fellow, who +had been looking me over pretty scornfully broke in:</p> + +<p>“That’s impossible, I tell you. Tell me what you want? Had trouble with +your captain? Overstayed your leave? Or have you just got out of jail?”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_202' id='pg_202'>202</a></span>Now, I hadn’t thought before this just how disreputable I looked. I was +dressed in the slops I had got out of the Scarboro’s chest, was +barefooted, and was burned almost as black as any negro—where the skin +showed, at least. I couldn’t much blame this whippersnapper of a +consul’s clerk for thinking me a tough subject.</p> + +<p>“None of those things fit my case, Mister,” I said, mildly. “I know I +don’t look handsome, but I’ve been on a whaling bark for several months +and I haven’t had time yet to tog up.”</p> + +<p>“A whaleship?” he asked. “An American whaleship?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir,” said I.</p> + +<p>“There is none in port.”</p> + +<p>“No, sir. I have been with the Scarboro. I’m mighty sure she’s not in +port.”</p> + +<p>“The Scarboro?” he asked me with a sudden queer look coming into his +face. “You’re one of the crew of the Scarboro?”</p> + +<p>“Not exactly one of her crew. But she picked me up adrift and I have +been with her until lately.”</p> + +<p>“You come in here,” said the clerk, slowly, motioning me into the room +behind him. And when we were in there he motioned me to a seat and sat +down himself in front of me. “Let’s hear your yarn,” he said.</p> + +<p>I thought it was rather strange he should be so interested, and likewise +that he should stare at me so all the time I was talking. But I gave him +a pretty good account of my adventures <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_203' id='pg_203'>203</a></span>from the time I was blown out of +Bolderhead Harbor, finishing with how I came to be at Buenos Ayres +without the bark herself being within six or seven hundred miles of the +port.</p> + +<p>“So that’s your yarn, is it?” he asked me grimly, when I was done.</p> + +<p>I stared at him in turn. To tell the truth, I was getting a little warm. +His face showed nothing like good-humor and friendliness. I waited to +see what it meant.</p> + +<p>“So that’s your yarn?” he repeated. “I thought when I set eyes on you +that you were a tricky fellow. But this caps all!” Why, he suddenly +raised his voice and stood up, “what do you mean by coming here with +such a yarn? I’ve a mind to clap you into jail!”</p> + +<p>I stood up, too. I must confess that I felt a bit scared. It was a +pretty hot day. I didn’t know but maybe the heat had overcome the fellow +and he had gone crazy.</p> + +<p>“How dare you come here with such a tale as this, you dirty +beach-comber?” he demanded, shaking his fist in my face. “If Colonel +Hefferan was here I don’t doubt he’d kick you out of the place. And +you’d better go quick, as it is. Don’t you show your face here +again——”</p> + +<p>All the time he had been walking me backward to the door. I had been +obliged to keep stepping to keep before him. But I backed up against the +door and stopped. I was getting angry, and I thought I’d gone far +enough.</p> + +<p>“I don’t know what you’re driving at,” I <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_204' id='pg_204'>204</a></span>said. “But one thing I do +know. My name is Clinton Webb, I have every reason to believe that my +mother has cabled me some money in Mr. Hefferan’s care, and I expect +there are letters for me, too. I want the money and the letters——”</p> + +<p>“Too late, you scoundrel!” he snarled at me, still shaking his fist. +“Your game is played too late. Not that we would have believed a +scoundrelly beach-comber like you——”</p> + +<p>“You don’t believe what?” I shot in, raising my voice.</p> + +<p>“I know you’re not Clinton Webb.”</p> + +<p>“WHAT?”</p> + +<p>“You’re too late,” he said, laughing nastily. “Mr. Webb came here +yesterday. He identified himself to the satisfaction of Colonel +Hefferan, and he got his money and letters. I don’t know who put you up +to this trick, but you’re too late, I tell you!”</p> + +<p>He managed to push me aside and now pulled open the door. He put a +whistle to his lips and blew a shrill blast. Two barefooted, but very +husky negroes came running in from the portico. I had noticed them +lounging there when I entered.</p> + +<p>He said something sharply to them in Spanish, and they grabbed me. My +blood was boiling, and I believe if they had given me a moment’s warning +I would have sailed into them. But they held me on either side, and a +hundred and eighty pounds of negro on each arm was too much for me. They +dragged me <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_205' id='pg_205'>205</a></span>toward the main door of the building in a hurry.</p> + +<p>“You get out of here!” cried the consul’s clerk behind me. “And don’t +you dare come back. If you do you’ll go to the calaboose as sure as +you’re a foot high!”</p> + +<p>I found myself out upon the sun-broiled street, with the two grinning +guards barring my return. It had never entered my mind before that Uncle +Sam is sometimes served by an ignorant and pompous nincompoop!</p> + +<p>But the satisfaction of making this discovery had a bitter taste. I did +not know what to do. My mind was in a whirl. I had some few letters and +papers in my pockets by which I had expected—after a time—to assure +the consul of my identity. But it seemed that I wasn’t to be given a +chance to explain who and what I was.</p> + +<p>Somebody had been ahead of me. Some person unknown had represented me +before the consul and had, it appeared, made good. My money and my +letters had been turned over to this person——</p> + +<p>“Paul Downes for a dollar bill!” I ejaculated. “It can’t be anybody +else. Who else would know enough about me to represent himself as Clint +Webb? He probably knew all about the money and letters. He got away from +home broke, worked his passage out here got here only a few hours before +I did, and he has beaten me to the consul. Whatever shall I do?”</p> + +<p>It was not that I was entirely helpless, although <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_206' id='pg_206'>206</a></span>I had only a dollar +in my pocket. Captain Rogers was to pay me the hundred dollars he had +promised me at the end of the whaling voyage, if I decided not to return +to the Scarboro. Ben Gibson was sick in the hospital, and old Tom and I +were both dependent upon him for our board money. I didn’t propose to be +an object of charity. But I must confess that what I <i>did</i> mean to do +had not as yet formed itself rationally in my mind when I got back to +old Maria Debora’s.</p> + +<p>Tom was out somewhere seeing the sights. He had not gone with me to the +consul’s office. Supper time came before the old man showed up and I sat +down among the first of the boarders. They were a cosmopolitan lot, +rough seamen from several quarters of the globe. They spoke half a dozen +different languages and dialects.</p> + +<p>I sat with my back to the door, and was only aware of the entrance of +another party of men by the noise and stir behind me.</p> + +<p>“Will you pass down a dish of those beans mate?” I had just called above +the hubbub, speaking to a man across the table.</p> + +<p>Instantly somebody stepped quickly behind my chair. A hand came down +heavily on my shoulder.</p> + +<p>“By all the e-tar-nal snakes!” ejaculated a nasal voice. “I knew I +couldn’t be mistaken about that back. But the voice convinced me. By the +e-tar-nal snakes! Professor, how came you here?”</p> + +<p>I turned slowly to see who had thus addressed <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_207' id='pg_207'>207</a></span>me. It was a tall +individual at my side—long legged, very lean, and when he laughed it +sounded like a horse neighing. He was so very tall that I had not raised +my eyes far enough to see his face before he spoke again.</p> + +<p>“Professor! ye sartainly give me a start. By the e-tar-nal snakes! I +could have taken my dying oath you wasn’t north o’ the cape o’ the +Virgins. What you doin’ yere in Maria Debora’s?”</p> + +<p>It began to be impressed on my mind with force that I was a good deal +like the little old woman of the nursery rhyme. I wondered whether this +was really me, or was it not me? My identity as Clinton Webb had been +denied at the consul’s, and here a perfect stranger was calling me out +of my name—and he seemed insistent upon it, too!</p> + +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='In_which_I_Get_Acquainted_With_Captain_Adoniram_Tugg_4692' id='In_which_I_Get_Acquainted_With_Captain_Adoniram_Tugg_4692'></a> +<p class='center' style='font-variant:small-caps; font-size:large;'>Chapter XXIV</p> +<p class='center' style='margin: 0 20% 0 20%; font-size:large'><i>In which I Get Acquainted With Captain Adoniram Tugg</i></p> +</div> + +<p>The face I finally saw at the top of that beanpole figure was as long as +the moral law. Such a lank, cadaverous visage I don’t think I had ever +seen before. The man was a human lath.</p> + +<p>And so bronzed and toughened was his hide that he looked to be made out +of sole-leather. His mouth was a grim, post-box slit; his nose was a +high beak with such a hump on it that I thought it had been broken; but +his eyes were human—gray-blue, twinkling with innumerable humorous +wrinkles at the outer corners.</p> + +<p>“By the e-tar-nal snakes!” he ejaculated when I had tipped back my head +so that he could really see my face. “You ain’t the Professor at all! +Why, you’re a boy!”</p> + +<p>“I am not your friend, the Professor,” I admitted.</p> + +<p>“And the voice!” he muttered, staring down at me. “It’s his voice. I +ain’t put in my winters with him this last dozen years and more to be +mistook in his voice. Say, boy, who be you?”</p> + +<p>“Clint Webb is my name,” I replied.</p> + +<p>“Where do you hail from?”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_209' id='pg_209'>209</a></span>“Massachusetts. Late of the Scarboro whaling bark.”</p> + +<p>“How old be you?”</p> + +<p>“Going on seventeen.”</p> + +<p>“Well,” he puffed, with a windy sigh, “you look behind enough like the +Professor to be him. And your voice is jest like his—that I’ll swear +to! You must be some related.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t know that we’ve any scientists in the family,” I said, with a +laugh. I rather liked the long-legged individual.</p> + +<p>“Don’t know nobody named Vose?” he asked.</p> + +<p>“No-o. Don’t think I do.”</p> + +<p>He slumped down upon the bench beside me and helped himself to beans.</p> + +<p>“By the e-tar-nal snakes!” he muttered. “It does completely +flabergasticate me—I do assure you! I never saw two folks so near +alike, back-to! You’d oughter see the Professor.”</p> + +<p>“I would be only too happy,” I said, politely.</p> + +<p>I was interested in my new acquaintance, but not particularly in his +friend whom I appeared to favor. He told me in the course of the meal a +good deal about himself; and it was interesting, his story.</p> + +<p>He was called Captain Adoniram Tugg, a Connecticut Yankee, and skipper +of a two-stick schooner called the Sea Spell. He followed an odd +business. He was a wild animal trapper, and gathered Natural History +specimens of many kinds for museums and menageries. He had just disposed +of his last season’s <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_210' id='pg_210'>210</a></span>catch, had shipped the last specimen northward by +steamship, and was about to sail for the Straits of Magellan again, near +which he had his headquarters.</p> + +<p>“To tell you the truth, the Professor and me are partners. He’s an odd +stick,” quoth Captain Tugg, after supper, as we sat on the broad step +before Maria Debora’s door, and he smoked the native cheroots while I +listened. “He ain’t been in a civilized town like this since I’ve knowed +him. For a l’arned chap, and a New Englander, he seems to have lost all +curiosity, and, I reckon, he’s got a grouch on the rest of mankind.”</p> + +<p>“How long did you say you had known him?” I asked, idly.</p> + +<p>“All of twelve year. He come to my camp one day. Just walked up to the +door like he’d come here and knock. But I didn’t suppose there was +another white man within five hundred miles—’nless he was aboard some +craft beating through the straits.</p> + +<p>“He was civil spoken enough; but he never would open up. Most fellows +meeting that sort o’ way,” continued Captain Tugg, puffing reflectively, +“would git chummy. The Professor’s never told me a thing about himself. +As fur as I know he was born full growed, right there on the rocks where +my shanty’s built, and ain’t got kith nor kin—fam’bly or enemy—just as +lonely as Adam was in Eden before the trouble began!</p> + +<p>“Yet,” said the captain, “to look at the Professor, you’d know there was +never <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_211' id='pg_211'>211</a></span>nothing crooked about his partner. And I have—but nothing about +his past. Only I’m willing to put up real money that whatever happened +to Professor Vose was something that was caused by no fault of his. He’s +always been sad. Never heard him laugh. He’s the kindest man ye ever +see, son. And if one o’ them Injun’s sick, or the like, he treats ’em +like a sure-’nough hospital sawbones.</p> + +<p>“Then he is a physician?” I asked suddenly.</p> + +<p>“I reckon he’s most anything that a man kin l’arn out o’ books,” +declared Captain Tugg. “He sent by me to Buenos Ayres here, first trip I +made after we’d gone partners in the animal biz, for the greatest old +outfit of drugs and the like you ever see. The natives come flockin’ to +him for miles an’ miles. He’s one big medicine man, all right, all +right!”</p> + +<p>“And I look like him?” I queried.</p> + +<p>“By the e-tar-nal snakes! you sartainly favor him, son,” declared the +captain, enthusiastically. “Why! ye might be his son. Got the same +features. The Professor keeps clean shaven. Hair like him, too, now I +looks at ye. And your voice—Well! it does beat all how near like him +you be. Sure you ain’t got no relative named Vose?”</p> + +<p>“How do you know his name is Vose?” I asked, my voice trembling a +little, for the old mystery of my father’s disappearance had swept in +upon my soul again and I was shaken to the depths.</p> + +<p>“Wal! I swear now! I never thought of <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_212' id='pg_212'>212</a></span>that. I s’pose he might never +have told me his real name,” said Tugg.</p> + +<p>The whole story took hold of me as it had when Tom Anderly told me of +the man that had been picked up by the coaster, Sally Smith, off +Bolderhead Neck some fourteen or fifteen years before. Tom had said +nothing about the man looking like me; but of course, Tom didn’t know +the man long—only until the coaster reached New York City. And his name +had been Carver—or so the Unknown had said. This Captain Tugg had been +partners with the man he called the Professor for twelve years. Long +enough to know his peculiarities and to recognize in my build, and in +the tones of my voice, things that reminded him strongly of his partner.</p> + +<p>And I had been told, often enough, that I had my father’s stature and +his very tone of voice and manner of speaking!</p> + +<p>But hold on! there was another way to make connection between the flying +strands of this seemingly absurd story. I turned to Captain Tugg calmly.</p> + +<p>“By the way, sir,” I said, “do you ever run around to Santiago?”</p> + +<p>“Valparaiso, you mean, son?” he returned. “That’s the seaport.”</p> + +<p>“I mean Santiago, Chili.”</p> + +<p>“Why, pshaw! I <i>have</i> been to the capital once—three or four years +ago.”</p> + +<p>“What for, sir—if I’m not too curious? You see, I’ve a reason for +asking,” I said.</p> + +<p>“I reckon so,” he returned, eyeing me <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_213' id='pg_213'>213</a></span>grimly. “And I’ve a reason for +not telling you. Private business.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t mean to be too ‘nosey,’” I returned. “But I’ll ask you another +question. If it hasn’t anything to do with your private business, you’ll +answer me?”</p> + +<p>“Let drive,” he commanded, thoughtfully smoking.</p> + +<p>“When you were in Santiago three or four years ago——”</p> + +<p>“Come to think of it, it was five year back,” interrupted the captain.</p> + +<p>“All right,” I said. “Did you at that time mail a letter for Professor +Vose from that town?”</p> + +<p>Captain Tugg smote his knee suddenly. “By the e-tar-nal snakes!” he +ejaculated. “Now you remind me.”</p> + +<p>“Did you?” I asked, eagerly.</p> + +<p>“Only letter I ever knowed him to write. He gave it to me before I +started in the Sea Spell. Yes, sir. I mailed it there, for it was among +my papers, and I forgot it when we touched at Conception, and again when +we put in at Valparaiso.”</p> + +<p>“Was that letter addressed to Tom Anderly, at the office of Radnor & +Blunt, in New York—a firm of shipping merchants?”</p> + +<p>“You win!” ejaculated Captain Tugg. “I memorized that address. Have to +admit I’ve always been cur’ous about the Professor. You know him?”</p> + +<p>“No, sir,” I said. “But I believe there’s a man here in town who does. +Or, at least <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_214' id='pg_214'>214</a></span>knows something about him,” I added, as I remembered how +very little Tom Anderly really knew about the man who had been picked up +in the fog off Bolderhead Neck.</p> + +<p>“I’d like to see that feller,” said Tugg.</p> + +<p>“And I’d like mightily to see your Professor,” said I.</p> + +<p>Tugg looked at me thoughtfully. “Got a job?” he asked.</p> + +<p>“I’m not sure that I shall wait for the Scarboro,” I replied. “We come +in with our second mate who was hurt by a whale. He’s in hospital. I +have got about all the whaling I want, I believe.”</p> + +<p>“I’ll give ye a job aboard the Sea Spell.”</p> + +<p>“I’ll think of that,” said I, quickly.</p> + +<p>“You’ll not think long, son,” drawled Captain Tugg, grimly. “We get away +on the morning tide.”</p> + +<p>The suggestion startled me. I felt a drawing toward Captain Adoniram +Tugg and his schooner. Rather, I had a strong desire to see the man whom +he called his partner—the man who had given his name as Carver on the +Sally Smith, but was now known to Tugg as “Professor Vose.” I was in a +fret of uncertainty.</p> + +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='In_Which_I_Follow_the_Beckoning_Finger_of_a_Spectre_4903' id='In_Which_I_Follow_the_Beckoning_Finger_of_a_Spectre_4903'></a> +<p class='center' style='font-variant:small-caps; font-size:large;'>Chapter XXV</p> +<p class='center' style='margin: 0 20% 0 20%; font-size:large'><i>In Which I Follow the Beckoning Finger of a Spectre</i></p> +</div> + +<p>I shall never forget that evening as I sat beside Captain Adoniram Tugg +on Maria Debora’s portico. From the street, which was well down toward +the water-front, rose all manner of smells and noises; most of them were +unpleasant. Sailors in foreign ports have to put up with a lot of +discomfort and are thrown among the most objectionable people and endure +more hardships of a different kind than are handed to them aboard +ship—and that’s saying a good deal!</p> + +<p>It was a warm night, too, and there were crowds on the street. A +confusion of different dialects came up to me and it was only now and +then that I heard an English word spoken. But these impressions came to +me quite unconsciously at the time. I had a problem—and a hard one—to +solve.</p> + +<p>I had really not recovered from the shock I had received at the American +consul’s. My money and letters were gone. Paul Downes had represented +himself as me and had got away with the money with which I had expected +to pay my passage home. But, of course, I really was not in great +straights for means of getting back to Bolderhead.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_216' id='pg_216'>216</a></span>With the experience I had had upon the whaling bark, and with my +physique, I knew very well that I could obtain a berth on either a +sailing or a steam vessel bound for the northern ports. I could work my +way home after a fashion. Besides, I could sell my sloop for almost +enough money to pay for a first-class passage to Boston on a Bayne +Liner.</p> + +<p>To tell the truth, I was more troubled by the loss of my letters than I +was by the loss of my money. I was anxious about my mother—anxious to +know how she had endured the shock of my absence, what her present +condition was, and all about affairs at home. Besides, there might have +been private information in those letters that I wouldn’t want Paul +Downes to learn.</p> + +<p>My rascally cousin had certainly set out on a career worthy of a pirate! +He had run away from home—and probably because he was afraid of +punishment for his crimes—and here in Buenos Ayres, so far from +Bolderhead, had begun a new career of wrong-doing.</p> + +<p>“He certainly is a bad egg!” I thought.</p> + +<p>But it wasn’t upon Paul Downes that my mind lingered long. My cousin had +played me a scurvy trick; but I was not made helpless by it. I could get +home after a fashion—if I wanted to. And that was my problem! Did I +want to go home?</p> + +<p>Until I had talked with this Captain Tugg I thought I had had my fill of +adventure and sea-roving. But his story of the man who had been his +partner for twelve years—the <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_217' id='pg_217'>217</a></span>man who looked and spoke like me—had +wheeled my mind square about! Instead of being headed north in my +thoughts, I was at once headed south. <i>I wanted to see this Professor +Vose!</i></p> + +<p>Yes. Spectre though the man was—will-o’-the-wisp as he seemed—I +desired above all else to see and speak with this man whom Tom Anderly +called “Carver” and Captain Tugg knew as “Professor Vose.” If my father, +Dr. Webb, was alive <i>he</i> would be a man with a mysterious past! I wanted +to come face to face with this man whom Tugg said was so much like me.</p> + +<p>“Where are you going from here when your Sea Spell sails, Captain Tugg?” +I asked the Yankee animal collector.</p> + +<p>“Goin’ to make the Straits,” drawled he. “Goin’ right back to +headquarters for a bit. Mebbe we’ll keep the old schooner in +commission—I’m taking down light cargo for headquarters now. But I +leave most of the actual snarin’ and trappin’ of the critters to the +Injuns—and to the Professor. I got some black fellers down there that +would take a prize in a circus sideshow themselves. One of ’em’s over +seven foot tall. And strong as wolves,” declared Captain Tugg.</p> + +<p>“If I went with you, what would you give me a month?”</p> + +<p>“Sixteen dollars—in silver,” he said, promptly. “I see you’ve got +eddication—you’d be handy. I could trust you with the schooner after a +v’yge or two. I got a good <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_218' id='pg_218'>218</a></span>navigator, Pedro, my mate; but he can’t talk +or write English worth a cent.”</p> + +<p>“But suppose I shouldn’t want to remain with you?” I suggested.</p> + +<p>“You kin come back here, then. Plenty of steamers comin’ through the +straits that touch at Buenos Ayres. My headquarters is at the head of +navigable water about a hundred miles north of the Straits. An inlet and +river makes in there. It’s a wild country, but I’ve made out to live +thereabout for nigh onto fifteen year—and the Professor’s stood it for +better than twelve. I can put you in the way of makin’ better money in +time.”</p> + +<p>But I was not listening to all he said. I suddenly put in:</p> + +<p>“Your schooner is going right to your headquarters now?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir!”</p> + +<p>“And that is where this Professor stays?”</p> + +<p>“When he ain’t up country trapping critters.”</p> + +<p>If you have read thus far in my story you will have discovered one thing +about me, if nothing else. I was impulsive—ridiculously impulsive. My +bump of imagination was big, too. Otherwise the idea that my father was +roaming about the world instead of being peacefully asleep somewhere at +the bottom of the sea off Bolderhead, would never have gained such a +strong hold upon me.</p> + +<p>And my impulsiveness urged me to accept the story of this Professor +Vose—as related by Captain Tugg—as something of vital importance <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_219' id='pg_219'>219</a></span>to +myself. Here I was at Buenos Ayres, not many weeks’ sail from the place +where the mysterious Professor was to be found. On the other hand, it +was plainly my duty to make for home by the quickest route possible.</p> + +<p>Duty and inclination were at daggers’ drawn again. I told myself that as +long as there was a possibility that the mysterious Professor might be +my lost father, I should take up with this offer of Captain Tugg. I +might never be able to find this man of mystery if I did not sail on the +Sea Spell when she slipped away from Buenos Ayres.</p> + +<p>“It’s my chance!” I thought. “I can go home if there proves to be +nothing in the venture. Why! I might take a steamship right at the +Straits for some United States port. It’s my chance! I’ll do it.”</p> + +<p>And so—as I had many times before—I came to a reckless conclusion and +went into a venture the end of which was mighty misty! I suddenly turned +to the lathlike Yankee and told him that I would take up with his offer, +and we shook hands upon the compact.</p> + +<p>But once I had entered into the agreement I found I had a hundred things +to do and little time to do it in. Old Tom Anderly had not come back to +the boarding house and I could not wait for him to appear. Captain Tugg +was already thinking of loafing along to the dock where his two-stick +schooner was moored. I bundled up my dunnage and went with him.</p> + +<p>“You’ll take second mate’s berth, son,” <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_220' id='pg_220'>220</a></span>said the long-legged Yankee. +“Not that you’re fit for it, and I’ll have to be on deck jest as much as +ever; but I can’t put a white man for’ard with that bilin’ of +off-scourin’s I’ve got for a crew. I can trust Pedro; but there isn’t +another man of the crew that I’d trust as far as I could sling a +barge-load o’ bricks!</p> + +<p>“You’ve the makin’s of a smart sailor in you—I can see that,” pursued +the Captain. “And you say you’ve begun studying navigation?”</p> + +<p>“I picked up some aboard the Scarboro, listening to Captain Hi and Ben +Gibson.”</p> + +<p>“We’ll make a mate of you in a year or two,” said Captain Tugg, +confidently.</p> + +<p>But that speech shocked me. I had no intention of following the sea a +year or two. I meant just then to sail down to this place Tugg told +about and take a look at the Professor individual. That’s all I wanted. +Then it would be “homeward bound” for me.</p> + +<p>We reached the schooner and I found her a nice looking craft, bright and +shining, with new sails bent on and a scraped and oiled deck and pretty +sticks in her. She’s been rigged new throughout and looked more like a +yacht than a coasting vessel knocking about the southern trades.</p> + +<p>I had left a note at Maria Debora’s for old Tom, and another for him to +give Ben Gibson. I had some things to buy, and several of them were by +Captain Tugg’s advice. He advanced me money for my purchases, and <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_221' id='pg_221'>221</a></span>they +included a second-hand Winchester and a revolver.</p> + +<p>“We’re going to a wild piece of airth, son,” said the animal trapper.</p> + +<p>Then I saw the man (he was an American) with whom we had left my sloop. +He agreed to look after her and keep her in repair for her use, so +<i>that</i> matter was settled. And then I did something that my conscience +told me I should have attended to the moment I arrived in Buenos Ayres. +I took five dollars of the sum I had drawn ahead on my wages and sent a +short cable to my mother. It told her nothing but the fact that I was +alive and well.</p> + +<p>But that night, before it came time for me to hustle on deck and help +get the Sea Spell under way, I spent writing letters to Ham Mayberry and +Mr. Hounsditch. I gave them both the particulars of my treatment at the +consul’s office and my knowledge of Paul Downes’ presence at Buenos +Ayres and the trick I believed he had played upon me. Of the venture I +had now started upon in the Sea Spell I spoke only in a general way. But +I promised them I would be back in Buenos Ayres, or on my way home, +within a very few months.</p> + +<p>These letters went off to the mail on the tug that towed the schooner +out of the tangle of shipping. We made sail in half an hour and the Sea +Spell made a good leg to windward, beginning her voyage into the +south—a voyage on which I was following the beckoning finger of a +spectre.</p> + +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='In_Which_the_Sea_Spell_Goes_Ashore_on_a_Most_Unfriendly_Coast_5099' id='In_Which_the_Sea_Spell_Goes_Ashore_on_a_Most_Unfriendly_Coast_5099'></a> +<p class='center' style='font-variant:small-caps; font-size:large;'>Chapter XXVI</p> +<p class='center' style='margin: 0 20% 0 20%; font-size:large'><i>In Which the Sea Spell Goes Ashore on a Most Unfriendly Coast</i></p> +</div> + +<p>I learned a whole lot beside seamanship during those next few weeks as +the schooner Sea Spell coasted Buenos Ayres Province and the vast +Colonial Territory of Magellan. A stretch of nearly a thousand miles we +had to sail to reach the Cape of the Virgins, behind which is the +entrance to the Magellan Straits.</p> + +<p>The coastwise trade between the ports below Buenos Ayres—Bahia Blanca, +El Carmen on the Rio Negro, Port St. Antonio at at the head of the Gulf +of St. Matias, San Josefpen, Por Malaspina, Santa Cruz, and clear around +to the Pacific seaports of Chili—this coastwise trade, I say, is almost +like the trade along our Atlantic seaboard. Inland, Tugg told me, there +were vast pampasses empty of all but cattle and wild beasts and some +tribes of wild men; but a strip of the seacoast south of the mouth of +the Silver River is being rapidly developed.</p> + +<p>There are great rivers emptying into the sea here,—the Cobu Leofu, Rio +Negro, the Balchitas, the Chupat Desire and Rio Chico—all water-ways +which are opening up the country. Argentina is as large as all Eastern +and Central Europe together and is <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_223' id='pg_223'>223</a></span>enormously rich in mineral and +natural products.</p> + +<p>This information was brought home to me as, day after day, and with +favorable gales, the Sea Spell winged her way southward. She was a +fairly fast sailing ship and Captain Adoniram Tugg evidently took pride +in her. But her crew was all that he had given me reason to believe. A +dirtier, more ungovernable gang of penny cut-throats I doubt never +sailed on any honest ship!</p> + +<p>I soon learned, beside all the above about Argentina’s coast trade, that +Tugg kept his seamen at work through fear. He never changed his drawl in +speaking; but when he gave an order there was a grimness about his mouth +and a flash in his gray-blue eyes that gave one a cold, creepy feeling +in the region of the spine. I don’t know that Captain Tugg went armed. +But if an order had been neglected by any man aboard I had the feeling +that a weapon would appear in the skipper’s hand and that the mutineer +would have dropped in his tracks!</p> + +<p>Pedro, the mate, was a snaky, dusky fellow, with huge rings of gold in +his ears and a smile that showed altogether too many teeth to be +pleasant—a regular alligator smile. As far as I could see, I would just +as lief have Pedro’s ill feeling as his friendship. Yet Tugg trusted him +implicitly. But I—I locked my stateroom door whenever I lay down to +sleep; and I kept the Winchester and the Colts revolver loaded all the +time. Perhaps I was foolish; but I felt that we were in a state of war.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_224' id='pg_224'>224</a></span>The routine duties of the schooner kept me at work, however, for I +tried to earn my sixteen a month. Tugg was a good navigator himself. He +handled his schooner like a professional yachtsman. Captain Rogers would +have admired the man, for he was another skipper who did not believe in +lying hove to no matter how hard the wind blew. There was a week at a +stretch when I didn’t get thoroughly dry between watches. The Sea Spell +just about flew over the water instead of through it!</p> + +<p>But a calm fell thereafter and we lay for eighteen hours in the Bay of +St. George, the sails hanging dead with not a breath of wind, and the +sea like glass. We were within two rifle shots of the shore at one +point. Behind this point of rocks was an inlet and the pool made good +anchorage without doubt, for there were several sail there, and a jumble +of huts on the shore.</p> + +<p>We had seen whales for several days and once passed a whaleship at work +trying out; but it was not the Scarboro. Now a great whale swam calmly +past the Sea Spell, nosing in toward the land, probably following some +school of tiny fish upon which he was feeding.</p> + +<p>“Wisht I had a crew of bully boys to go after that critter,” sighed +Captain Tugg, behind his long cheroot. “He’ll make more’n a bucket o’ +ile, you bet!”</p> + +<p>“You wouldn’t want to litter up your tidy schooner with grease, sir,” +said I, in wonder.</p> + +<p>“Mebbe not; mebbe not. But money’s <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_225' id='pg_225'>225</a></span>good wherever you find it, and that +critter is wuth two or three thousand dollars. By the e-tar-nal snakes!” +he added, using his favorite expletive, “I’d love to stick an iron in +that carcass.”</p> + +<p>I knew that Adoniram Tugg had been almost everything in the line of +sea-going and was not surprised to find that he had driven the iron into +many a whale. We stood swapping experiences, idly watching the big +whale. The creature sounded and remained down twenty or thirty minutes. +When he came up he spouted three times in quick succession, and then lay +basking on the surface.</p> + +<p>“Looker there!” exclaimed Captain Tugg, suddenly. “By the e-tar-nal +snakes! looker there!”</p> + +<p>He was pointing at the whale. Up towards its head, on the port side, +there appeared on the water a long tail, or fin, at right angles with +the whale.</p> + +<p>“What in tarnation d’ye s’pose that critter is?” demanded Captain Tugg.</p> + +<p>The thing was all of four and twenty feet long, about two wide at the +upper end, and tapering to eighteen inches. Almost at once the living +club was elevated in the air and then was flung down across the whale’s +back—just behind where the head was attached to its body—with a noise +like a signal gun.</p> + +<p>“Will ye looker that now!” bawled the Captain, in wonder.</p> + +<p>Again and again the monstrous club rose and descended. The great whale +leaped like <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_226' id='pg_226'>226</a></span>a beaten horse under the rain of blows; but whichever way +it turned, it could not shake off its assailant. The operator of that +club seemed to have it under perfect control, and likewise had means of +keeping up with the victim no matter in which direction, or how fast, +the latter swam. The blows fell only a few seconds apart, and the whale +finally sounded to escape them.</p> + +<p>But when he came up again, there was the mysterious enemy, hanging to +the whale like a bull dog, and the beating re-commenced. The sea about +the hectored whale was tinged with blood. The creature’s back was +lacerated frightfully and without any doubt whatsoever, it was being +beaten to death by its antagonist.</p> + +<p>Tugg grew greatly excited, and ordered a boat lowered. We took four +sailors and left Pedro in command of the becalmed schooner, and rowed +off towards the scene of the battle between the whale and the mysterious +fish.</p> + +<p>“It must be some kind of a huge ray,” I suggested. “That’s the tail that +is being used like a club.”</p> + +<p>“By the e-tar-nal snakes!” exploded Tugg, “it’s a different kind of a +sea-bat from anything I ever seed or heard of. You take it from me, +that’s a sea-sarpint, or wuss!”</p> + +<p>The whale was evidently at its last gasp when we left the schooner. It +soon rolled over on its side. The mysterious flail stopped beating the +huge body and the water seemed churned excitedly at the nose of the +leviathan.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_227' id='pg_227'>227</a></span>“The porpoises have got at it,” I suggested.</p> + +<p>“Not much they ain’t,” returned Captain Tugg. “There ain’t no porpoises +around today. Whatever the critter is that killed the whale, it’s at +dinner now.”</p> + +<p>And it was true. The mysterious denizen of the deep that had beaten the +whale to death, ate out the huge mammal’s tongue and had sunk again into +the sea before we rowed near enough to distinguish its shape or size. It +had disappeared as mysteriously as it had risen and seemingly all it had +killed the mammal for was to eat its tongue.</p> + +<p>Captain Tugg’s eye glistened when he saw the proportions of that whale +closer to. He stood up, looked long towards the inlet where there seemed +to be some movement among the craft anchored there, and then ordered us +to row in close to the whale’s tail.</p> + +<p>He passed a hawser around the narrow part of the whale just forward of +the tail and then ordered the men to pull for the schooner. It was a +tug, now I tell you! but we got the whale to the Sea Spell after a +while. I expected to see the spick and span schooner all messed up with +try-out works, and grease, and smoke. It disgusted me that the Yankee +skipper should be so sharp after the Almighty Dollar. But I didn’t yet +know Captain Adoniram Tugg.</p> + +<p>I saw that a number of craft had started out of the inlet—a much +puffing steam tug ahead, drawing several smaller boats behind it. There +was no wind at all, so the fleet <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_228' id='pg_228'>228</a></span>approached slowly, and we had the +whale tackled to the Sea Spell, fore and aft, before the tug was very +near.</p> + +<p>We made no immediate attempt to butcher the whale and I took pains to +get some of its dimensions. It was eighty-two feet over all in length +and nearly sixty feet around the biggest part of the body. The lower jaw +was nineteen and one-half feet long and the tail, when it was expanded, +measured twenty-three feet. I suppose, through the thickest part of the +body it must have been as many feet as the expanded tail was wide; at +least, so it appeared. These measurements will give the reader some idea +of what these huge mammals look like. And Captain Tugg had not been far +out of the way when he declared the whale to be worth two thousand +dollars.</p> + +<p>“What you got to run oil into, sir?” I asked, curiously.</p> + +<p>“Wait a bit; wait a bit,” returned the Yankee, puffing on his cheroot. +“Let’s see what these Yaller-skins have to offer. If we hadn’t tailed +onto the whale as we did they’d had their hooks in it by this time.”</p> + +<p>A few words in Spanish to Pedro had stirred up the mate and crew of the +Sea Spell. They seemed wonderfully busy getting a lot of gear and litter +upon deck. The uninitiated might have thought that we were getting ready +to cut up the whale and boil down the blubber in the most approved +style.</p> + +<p>Finally a man aboard the tug hailed us. Captain Tugg answered in +Spanish, and an <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_229' id='pg_229'>229</a></span>excited conversation ensued—at least, excited upon the +side of the man aboard the steam vessel and his compatriots. The skipper +of the Sea Spell seemed particularly calm and unshaken. I could +understand but little of the talk, although I had begun to pick up the +bastard Spanish spoken along the coast. I knew the Yankee and the dagos +were bargaining.</p> + +<p>Finally Tugg sang out to Pedro to belay the work he and the crew were +engaged in, and to lower a boat again. The captain was rowed to the tug +and after some further conversation I saw certain moneys counted out and +paid over to the master of the Sea Spell. He was then rowed back and +when he was aboard he ordered the dead whale cast off.</p> + +<p>“And git some of your watch down there, Pedro,” added Captain Tugg, “and +swab the grease off her side. Ugh! There ain’t nothing nastier than a +whale.”</p> + +<p>“Yet you were going to cut her up?” I suggested, curiously.</p> + +<p>He favored me with a wink. “Buncome, Bluff,” he murmured. “That little +play-acting turned me two hundred dollars in gold. Our lying becalmed +here wasn’t such a bad thing after all—and here comes the breeze. Jest +like finding money in an old coat, Mr. Webb—that’s what that was.”</p> + +<p>And so the shrewd old fellow turned everything to account. We got a +breeze and were out of sight of the place before the small craft had got +the big whale towed into the <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_230' id='pg_230'>230</a></span>inlet—where they would beach it and cut +it up. Captain Adoniram Tugg was two hundred dollars in pocket, and just +because some mysterious sea-beast had seen fit to kill a whale for its +tongue!</p> + +<p>We had a fine breeze after the long calm, but nothing but fair weather +until we rounded the Cape of the Virgins. There the broad entrance of +the magnificent Straits of Magellan lay before the nose of the schooner. +A little later we had furled all but the topsails and were sailing due +north into an inlet masked by many dangerous looking reefs. The mate of +the Sea Spell, Pedro, seemed to know the channel well, however, and +although Adoniram Tugg remained on deck he did not seem to be worried at +all about the schooner’s safety.</p> + +<p>“We’ll drop anchor before morning,” he told me. “That is, if the wind +holds in the same quarter. You’ll have a chance to see what sort of a +good fellow the Professor is tomorrow.”</p> + +<p>“What! are we so near your headquarters?”</p> + +<p>“That’s the checker,” returned Tugg. “Just a short sail now.”</p> + +<p>The inlet was never more than a mile wide; in places the rocks crowded +in toward the channel until a strong man could have flung a stone from +shore to shore. The waterway was really a series of quiet salt pools.</p> + +<p>The shores were wild and rugged. I had never seen a more forbidding +coast. When the night dropped down upon us—as it did <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_231' id='pg_231'>231</a></span>suddenly, and a +starless sky o’er-head—I wondered how Pedro could smell his way +through. I heard Tugg roaring something in Spanish about “the beacon” +and then a spark of fire flared out in the darkness far ahead. It looked +like a stationary lamp and burned brightly. The captain came over to me, +chuckling.</p> + +<p>“That’s my partner’s light,” he said, with satisfaction. “He rigged that +beacon, and it’s lit every night that the Sea Spell is on a cruise. +Pedro can work the schooner up the inlet by that light without rubbing a +hair.”</p> + +<p>And so we sailed on, and on, without a thought of danger until, of a +sudden, I felt the schooner jar throughout her whole length. Captain +Tugg jumped and yelled to Pedro:</p> + +<p>“What in tarnation you doin’, numbskull? Hi, one o’ you boys! git into +the chains with the lead.”</p> + +<p>But before the man could sound the Sea Spell grounded again, and this +time she ran her keel upon a sand bank so solidly that she stopped dead, +with the sails above cracking! There was a hullabaloo for a few minutes, +now I tell you. Shouts, commands, the grinding of the schooner’s keel, +the slatting of sails. The Sea Spell had driven so hard and fast upon +the shoal that she canted neither to port, or starboard. And although +the sea was still so that she would not be beaten by the waves, it +looked much to me as though she were piled up on this unfriendly coast +for good and all!</p> + +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='In_Which_We_Find_the_Natives_More_Unfriendly_Than_the_Coast_5377' id='In_Which_We_Find_the_Natives_More_Unfriendly_Than_the_Coast_5377'></a> +<p class='center' style='font-variant:small-caps; font-size:large;'>Chapter XXVII</p> +<p class='center' style='margin: 0 20% 0 20%; font-size:large'><i>In Which We Find the Natives More Unfriendly Than the Coast</i></p> +</div> + +<p>The bright light ahead had disappeared. Tugg was berating Pedro for +getting off his course and running the schooner aground. In a minute, +however, another light flashed up nearby and I saw that a huge bonfire +had been kindled on the shore not more than a cable’s length away.</p> + +<p>“What in the e-tar-nal snakes is that?” bawled Captain Adoniram Tugg, +seeing this fire. “That ain’t the Professor—not a bit of it.”</p> + +<p>In a minute the flames rose so high that we could see figures moving in +the light of them. And wild enough figures they were—half naked +fellows, taller than ordinary men, and waving spears and clubs.</p> + +<p>“I believe some of your Patagonian giants you have been telling me about +have gone on the warpath, Captain,” I said.</p> + +<p>“Not a bit of it! Not a bit of it,” he snarled. “They’re as tame as +tiger-kittens.”</p> + +<p>“Just the same I’m going to get my gun and pistol,” I declared, and I +dove below.</p> + +<p>When I came back to the deck two more fires were burning. The +shore—which was a low bluff—was illuminated for some hundreds <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_233' id='pg_233'>233</a></span>of +yards. There was a gang of a hundred or more dancing savages about the +fires. I was frightened; those savages were not “gentled” enough to suit +me.</p> + +<p>The captain and Pedro had evidently come to a decision. The fires +revealing the coast as they did showed them where the mistake had been +made. Tugg said:</p> + +<p>“Can’t blame Pedro. That beacon lantern we saw had been shifted. I hope +those wretches yonder haven’t got the Professor foul. But one thing is +sure: They brought that big lantern clear across the inlet and set it up +on the west shore. No wonder we ran aground. It was a pretty trick, I do +allow.”</p> + +<p>“And these are the natives you told me were perfectly harmless?”</p> + +<p>“Not my boys,” said Tugg. “There are wild tribes about, as I told you. +This bilin’ of trouble-makers are from up country. I’m dreadful afraid +they’ve attacked the camp first and put the Professor and my boys out of +the way. They must have been on the lookout for the Sea Spell. Had +sentinels posted along shore. They want to loot her.”</p> + +<p>“And it looks to me as though they’d do it,” I observed. “I never shot +at a man, Captain; but I am going to begin shooting if those dancing +dervishes start to come off to us in those big canoes I see there.”</p> + +<p>“Don’t begin to shoot too quick, Mr. Webb,” said the Yankee skipper. “I +reckon we’ll be able to handle them all right.”</p> + +<p>“But your crew isn’t armed.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_234' id='pg_234'>234</a></span>“You bet they ain’t. And me with more than two thousand in gold +aboard?” he snorted. “By the e-tar-nal snakes! I guess they ain’t armed. +I wouldn’t trust ’em with firearms.”</p> + +<p>I began to feel pretty bad. I knew they were a murderous looking lot of +fellows; but I didn’t suppose that Tugg traveled in such peril all the +time. I was learning a whole lot for a boy of my age. To be adventuring +about the world “on the loose” as old Tom Anderly called it, had seemed +a mighty fine thing. But just at that moment, with the schooner shaking +on the shoal, the fires flaring on the beach, and the savages dancing +and yelling at us, I would have given a good deal to have been where I +could call a policeman!</p> + +<p>But Adoniram Tugg showed no particular fear. I was the only person who +had a weapon on deck. The Yankee skipper did not even go down for his +own gun that hung over his stateroom door. Instead, he turned to Pedro +and gave a quick command.</p> + +<p>The mate and two of the sailors dashed for the forward hatch and had it +off in a minute. Tugg turned to me again, drawling just the same as +usual:</p> + +<p>“Keep a thing seven year, they say, and it’s bound to come handy, no +matter what it is. I bought a miscellaneous lot o’ truck out o’ a +seaside store thar in Buenos Ayres because there was a right good +chronometer went with the lot. Ah! that’s the box, Pedro. Rip it +open—but have a care. Don’t bring <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_235' id='pg_235'>235</a></span>fire near it—hey! you there with +the cigaroot! Throw it away. You want to blow yourself to everylastin’ +bliss?”</p> + +<p>“They’re manning those canoes, Captain!” I shouted, for my attention was +pretty closely fixed upon the savages.</p> + +<p>“Let ’em come!” he grunted. “We’ll fix ’em, Mr. Webb; we’ll fix ’em.”</p> + +<p>There were four large canoes. I heard Tugg whispering to himself about +them as he watched the half-naked paddlers urging them toward the +schooner:</p> + +<p>“Ugly mugs. From up river. Come three or four hundred miles in them +canoes, mebbe. Wisht I knew what has happened the Professor. They +sartainly have cleaned our headquarters, or they wouldn’t have displaced +that beacon lantern.” Then he turned to urge Pedro. “Got that mess o’ +stuff out o’ the box? That’s it. Now, Mr. Webb, never mind them guns o’ +yourn. Put ’em down and bear a hand here.”</p> + +<p>He was the skipper and I obeyed; but I hated to give up the rifle. It +looked to me as though we were in for a hand-to-hand fight with the +savages—and they really were giants. I had read of these Patagonians; +but I had never more than half believed the stories they told about +them. I could realize now that any fifty of them one might see in a +crowd together would average—as the books said—six feet, four inches +in height.</p> + +<p>As I came forward he was rapidly distributing—he and Pedro—the +articles which <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_236' id='pg_236'>236</a></span>had been packed in the box. He gave half a dozen to each +man of the crew. He likewise broke up lengths of slow-matches—that +Chinese punk that is usually used when fireworks are set off. And it was +fireworks he was giving me—half a dozen good-sized rockets!</p> + +<p>“What shall we do with these?” I demanded. “Why, Captain Tugg! you don’t +mean to illuminate the schooner? Those savages will pin us with their +spears if we light up here.”</p> + +<p>He spoke first to the crew, and they ran at once and crouched under the +bulwarks on that side nearest the shore. The canoes were within a +hundred yards.</p> + +<p>“Quick!” he said to me. “Start the first rocket fuse. Lay it on the rail +here, son, and aim it at them canoes. We’ll pepper them skunks—now, +won’t we?”</p> + +<p>All along the line of the rail I heard the fuses sputtering. Little +sparks of blue and crimson flame shot into view. “Let ’em go!” bawled +Adroniam Tugg.</p> + +<p>The four canoes came fairly bounding over the water. I never knew that +canoes could be paddled so rapidly. They were almost upon the schooner +when the first rocket went off with a terrible sputter. It shot like a +bird of fire right into the leading canoe, and then another, and +another, shot off until the air between the schooner and the canoes +seemed filled with shooting flames.</p> + +<p>The savages’ yells changed monstrously <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_237' id='pg_237'>237</a></span>quick. When the rockets began to +blow up and sprinkle around balls of red and blue and green fire, the +boats were emptied in a moment or two. Wildly shrieking, the naked +savages sprang overboard and swam back toward land, while we along the +rail of the Sea Spell sent broadside after broadside of rockets after +them.</p> + +<p>We saw them splash through the shoal water, gain the land, and disappear +beyond the illumination of the fires before all our skyrockets were used +up.</p> + +<p>“Avast firin’!” roared Captain Tugg, and Pedro, the mate, repeated the +order in Spanish. “Now out with a boat, Pedro, and save those canoes. +They’ll come in handy for our use.”</p> + +<p>No matter what the situation might be, the Yankee could not lose sight +of the main chance. We gathered in those canoes and then awaited +daylight before we made any further move. We found then that the savages +had totally disappeared.</p> + +<p>“We can warp her off and I doubt if she’s damaged at all,” declared +Captain Tugg. “But I’m too worried about the Professor to begin that +now. I’m going to leave Pedro here and we’ll take some of the boys and +sail up to headquarters and see what’s happened there. You can bring +your hardware, Mr. Webb. We may have need of it after all, for if +they’ve troubled the Professor, I swanny I’ll shoot some of the +long-legged rascals!”</p> + +<p>What I had read of white men in wild <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_238' id='pg_238'>238</a></span>countries had led me to believe +that they usually shot the savages first and inquired into their +intentions afterward. But Captain Tugg assured me that in the fifteen +years he had been in this country he had never been obliged to more than +string a few savages up by their thumbs and ropes-end them!</p> + +<p>“They’ve been ugly at times—not my boys around here, but some of the +far, up-country tribes—and I’ve been obliged to show them things. I’m +kind of a wonder-worker, I be. Them scamps that waylaid us last night +will scatter the news of that fireworks show throughout ten townships, +and don’t you forgit it. Jest because Adoniram Tugg can show ’em +something new ev’ry time is what’s kept his head on his shoulders for +fifteen years.”</p> + +<p>“Goodness! they’re not head-hunters?” said I.</p> + +<p>“No. But they’d take a white man’s head and sell it to tribes farther +north that <i>do</i> prize sech trophies. Oh, this ain’t no country for +tenderfoots, son. There ain’t no tract in the back-end of India, or the +middle of Africa, that’s as barbarous as a good wide streak of South +America yet.”</p> + +<p>And I could believe that later when, after sailing some miles up the +inlet, we came to the burned ruins of a collection of huts and sheds. +This was Tugg’s headquarters, and his partner, Professor Vose, the man I +had come so far to see, was not there.</p> + +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='In_Which_Are_Related_Several_Disappointments_5578' id='In_Which_Are_Related_Several_Disappointments_5578'></a> +<p class='center' style='font-variant:small-caps; font-size:large;'>Chapter XXVIII</p> +<p class='center' style='margin: 0 20% 0 20%; font-size:large'><i>In Which are Related Several Disappointments</i></p> +</div> + +<p>The attack on the encampment of the animal trappers had evidently been +made several days before. The fire had devastated the place. All the +animals in cages had been killed or released. And in the blackened ruins +and about the clearing, on the rocks, there lay the bodies of more than +a dozen Patagonians. Tugg showed real feeling when he saw these dead +men.</p> + +<p>“Poor boys!” he muttered, standing leaning on his rifle and gazing upon +one fellow who was really a giant. “They was square, jest the same. Ye +see, they fought for the Professor and the traps. But them scoundrels +was too many for them.”</p> + +<p>It was a dreadful sight. I do not want to write about it. Nor do I wish +to give the particulars of our search of the neighborhood for some trace +of the single white man who had been in the vicinity—the man whom Tugg +called the Professor, but who was the Man of Mystery to me. We found a +place where a huge fire had been built beneath the trees. There was a +green liana hanging from a high limb and the end of the liana had been +tied around the ankles of a man. The feet <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_240' id='pg_240'>240</a></span>shod in American made boots +were all of that victim of the savages’ cruelty which had not been +burned to ashes.</p> + +<p>“It’s a way they have,” whispered Tugg. “They start the poor feller +swinging like a pendulum, and every time he swings through the flames +he’s burned a little more—and a little more——”</p> + +<p>I turned sick with the horror of it. There was nothing more to do. Tugg +recognized his partner’s boots. The savages had made their raid, burned +the camp, destroyed all they could, and done their best to wreck the Sea +Spell. There must have been one traitor among Tugg’s men at the +encampment or the savages would not have known of the schooner’s +approach. At least, I shall always believe so.</p> + +<p>But when the balance of his Patagonians came in from the swamp where +they had hidden after the attack, the captain seemed to believe all +their stories, took them back into his confidence, and at once set to +work to repair the damage done by the up-river Indians.</p> + +<p>I confess that I was desperately disappointed. And I felt depressed, +too, over the death of the mysterious Professor Vose, or Carver, or +whatever his name had been. I could not get rid of the thought that +perhaps the man had been my father. But I should never know now, I told +myself. Whether it were so, or not I need have no doubt regarding my +poor father’s death. If he had not <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_241' id='pg_241'>241</a></span>been drowned off Bolderhead Neck, +and had been hidden away in this wilderness so many years, he had gone +to his account now.</p> + +<p>I was sorry I had come down here in the Sea Spell; but being here I had +to somewhat wait upon Captain Tugg’s pleasure before I could get away. +We warped the Sea Spell off the shoal and found her uninjured. She had +scarcely started a plank. Then the animal trapper set us all to work +rebuilding his camp, animal cages, and stockade. We were three solid +months repairing the damage done by the savages; but then Tugg had a +camp that would be impregnable to the wild men from up the river.</p> + +<p>I had expressed to him at once my wish to return to the coast where I +could get a chance to work my way north in some vessel. But it was three +months before he could spare me a canoe crew to take me as far as Punta +Arenas, on the Straits. From that point I would be able to board some +vessel bound into the Atlantic, and if I could get back to Buenos Ayres +I would be all right.</p> + +<p>I had wasted nearly six months in following a will-o’-the-wisp. I might +have been at home long ago, had I not come down here on the schooner. +More than a year had passed since that September evening when my cousin, +Paul Downes, and I had had our fateful quarrel on my bonnie sloop, the +<i>Wavecrest</i>, as she beat slowly into the inlet at Bolderhead. I had +roved far afield since that time, had seen strange lands, and strange +peoples, <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_242' id='pg_242'>242</a></span>and had endured hardship and hard work which—after all was +said and done—hadn’t belonged to me.</p> + +<p>Clint Webb need not be knocking about the world, looking for a chance to +work his way home before the mast. As the canoe Tugg had lent me sailed +south through the inlet, with Pedro and two gigantic Patagonians for +crew, I milled these thoughts over in my mind, and determined that, once +at home, I’d stick there. Not that I was tired of the sea, or afraid of +work aboard ship; but I was deeply worried regarding my mother and what +might be happening to her so far away.</p> + +<p>Nothing but the desire to set eyes on the man that looked like me and +talked like me had brought me ’way down here in Patagonia; I had never +told Captain Tugg my real reason for shipping on the Sea Spell, not even +when I bade him good-bye. The old fellow had seemed really sorry to have +me go.</p> + +<p>“If you git tired of civilization and want to come down this way again, +son,” he told me, “you’ll be as welcome as can be. Just come here, walk +in, hang up your hat, and you’ll find a job right at hand. I got a big +order for ant-eaters, jaguar, tiger-cats, and the like, on hand and I’ll +likely be here for a couple of years—off and on. Goin’ to be mighty +lonesome, too, without the Professor,” he added, shaking his head, +sorrowfully.</p> + +<p>Tugg was a money-lover; but I know that he didn’t hold the loss of his +animals and <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_243' id='pg_243'>243</a></span>outfit as anything to be compared to the miserable end of +his partner. I liked him for <i>that</i>.</p> + +<p>I can’t say that I enjoyed that canoe trip to the Straits. We had a +queer three-cornered sail that was rigged in some native way, and as the +wind was free we traveled the hundred or so miles to the mouth of the +inlet in good time. But I did not sleep much; Pedro and the giants might +easily knock me on the head, take my few dollars and my gun and other +traps, and drop me overboard. I couldn’t believe that they were to be +trusted.</p> + +<p>But nothing really happened until we were within a mile or so of the +mouth of the long lagoon. I could see a bit of the strait and over the +rocky headland appeared a banner of smoke. It was from the stack of a +steamship bound east. I pointed it out to the mate of the Sea Spell and +told him how anxious I was to reach that very craft. I had money enough +left of my wages to pay my fare to Buenos Ayres at least—perhaps to +Bahia; and surely the steamship would stop somewhere along the east +coast.</p> + +<p>Pedro jabbered to the Patagonians, and the wind having fallen light they +got out the paddles and set to work. I showed them each a silver dollar +and they went at it like college athletes. Such paddling I never saw +before, and it seemed to me we shot out of the inlet about as fast as +though we were ironed to a bull whale!</p> + +<p>But we were too late. The steamship had <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_244' id='pg_244'>244</a></span>a long sea-mile on us and she +wasn’t stopping for a canoe. We should have to trim our sail again and +make for the West and Punta Arenas. As we swung the canoe’s head around, +however, I caught sight of a big ship, with a wonderful lot of canvas +set, passing the steamship and heading our way. She sailed the straits +like a huge bird, her white canvas bellying from the deck to the extreme +points of her wand-like topmasts. She was a pretty sight.</p> + +<p>I began to stare back at her more and more as she came up, hand over +hand. I saw that she was a bark; then I saw that her crowsnest was +occupied by a lookout. Only one manner of craft would have a man in the +crowsnest on a clear day like this. She was a whaler.</p> + +<p>I had no glass; but I fixed my gaze upon her black bows as they rose and +fell as she came through the waves. My heart had begun to beat with +excitement. There were the huge white letters as she paid off a bit and +I could see part of her run and broadside. I couldn’t be mistaken, and +suddenly I broke out with a loud cheer, for I could read the two painted +lines:</p> + +<p class='center'>SCARBORO<br /> +New Bedford</p> + +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='In_Which_I_Am_Not_the_Only_Person_Surprised_5730' id='In_Which_I_Am_Not_the_Only_Person_Surprised_5730'></a> +<p class='center' style='font-variant:small-caps; font-size:large;'>Chapter XXIX</p> +<p class='center' style='margin: 0 20% 0 20%; font-size:large'><i>In Which I Am Not the Only Person Surprised</i></p> +</div> + +<p>I yelled to Pedro and then sprang up, tied a handkerchief to an oar and +waved it frantically. As the old bark swung down toward us I saw several +figures spring into the lower rigging, and by and by their hands waved +to me. I spoke again to the mate of the Sea Spell and he said he could +bring the canoe in close to the bark if they would throw me a rope. I +knew they had identified me, and I was glad to see Ben Gibson standing +on the rail and yelling to me.</p> + +<p>I gave each of the Patagonians a dollar and Pedro two, shook hands with +them all, slung my rifle over my shoulder, hooked one arm through my +dunnage-bag (which was fortunately waterproof) and stood ready to seize +the rope which was flung me. The Patagonians brought the canoe right up +to the looming side of the old bark, and as she dipped deep in the sea, +I sprang up and “walked up” her side, clinging to the rope with both +hands. So they got me inboard with merely a dash of saltwater to season +my venture.</p> + +<p>The canoe wore off sharply and I turned to wave good-bye to Pedro and +the paddlers. <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_246' id='pg_246'>246</a></span>Then a bunch of the old Scarboro’s fo’castle hands were +about me. Tom Anderly pushed through the group and grabbed my hand.</p> + +<p>“Here ye be, ye blamed young scamp!” he roared. “Leavin’ Mr. Gibson an’ +me in the lurch in Buenos Ayres.”</p> + +<p>“And ye missed some of the greatest whalin’ ye ever see,” burst in the +stroke oar of our old boat. “We got smashed up complete once and lost +boat and every bit of gear. Nobody bad hurt, however.”</p> + +<p>Within the next few moments I heard a deal of news. How many whales the +Scarboro had butchered since I had left for Buenos Ayres (and despite +Mr. Bobbin’s croaking the old bark already had half a cargo in her +tanks); how long it had taken Bill Rudd and his crew to patch up the +hole the bull whale had smashed in the bark’s side; about the gale they +had run into which had carried away some of the top gear and much +canvas; and what the crew had done during the week or more they had been +in port at Buenos Ayres.</p> + +<p>Then Ben Gibson came off duty and called me aft. “Awful glad to see you, +Webb,” he declared. “I’m fit as a fiddle now. Want you in my boat again. +We took on a lout at Buenos Ayres, who’s had your berth; but he isn’t +worth a hang in the boat. You’re going to finish out the cruise, aren’t +you?”</p> + +<p>“I don’t expect to, sir,” I returned. “I would have been home long ago +if I had been wise. What I came down here for panned out nothing at +all.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_247' id='pg_247'>247</a></span>“Well, Captain Hi will be glad to have you finish out the cruise, I +don’t doubt. You better go below and see him,” said the second mate.</p> + +<p>Mr. Robbins shook hands with me before I went below and welcomed me +aboard. “We’re going to make money in the old Scarboro this v’y’ge, +Webb,” he said. “You’d better stick to the bark. Captain Hi is going to +discharge ile here at Punta Arenas and go into the Pacific with clean +tanks.”</p> + +<p>And so the skipper told me when I descended to the tiny chart room. +There would be a tramp freightship with a half cargo at Punta Arenas, he +said, and it had empty tanks aboard. All that was needed was to pump the +oil from the bark into the tramp’s tanks.</p> + +<p>“And we’ve got a good bit of bone and spermaceti, too,” said Captain +Rogers. “I consider you one of the crew still, Webb. Or, if you are so +determined, you may pull out here and I will give you your hundred +dollars as I promised.”</p> + +<p>“I feel that I should go home. Captain,” I assured him. “As I told Ben +in my note back there at Buenos Ayres, my money and letters were grabbed +at the consulate by another fellow——”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” interposed Captain Rogers, beginning to hunt in a drawer, “Ben +told me about that. And I went up to the consulate and had a talk with +Colonel Hefferan about it. The whole thing was a silly mistake on the +<span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_248' id='pg_248'>248</a></span>part of a clerk of his—a mighty fresh clerk. He went off half-cocked +and gave the money and letters over to that fellow without saying a word +to the consul himself. And they put you out of the consulate, too, I +understand?”</p> + +<p>“They most certainly did,” I replied.</p> + +<p>“If you go to Buenos Ayres, just step in there and make that cheap clerk +beg your pardon. He’s ready to. And here,” said Captain Rogers, +suddenly, turning toward me, “is something that belongs to you, I +believe, Clint Webb.”</p> + +<p>There were several letters which he placed in my hand. The top one was +addressed in mother’s handwriting, and I seized it with a cry of +delight.</p> + +<p>“Know ’em, do you?” he said.</p> + +<p>“This is from my mother—and this from Ham—and this one from our +lawyer——”</p> + +<p>“I reckoned they belonged to you. The crimp gave them to me with the +rest of that fellow’s belongings, and I took the liberty of sorting out +these and saving them for you.”</p> + +<p>“They’ve been opened!” I cried.</p> + +<p>“Of course. And why the fellow kept them I don’t see. They’re +incriminating. But he was all in when the crimp brought him aboard——”</p> + +<p>“Who is the fellow?” gasped I, in amazement.</p> + +<p>“Says his name’s Bodfish—young lout! I took pity on him when I saw him +in that crimp-shop. He had spent a pocketful of money, or had it stolen. +I suppose he is the <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_249' id='pg_249'>249</a></span>fellow that represented himself as you at the +consulate,” said Captain Rogers.</p> + +<p>“Paul Downes!”</p> + +<p>“Like enough. Of course, I didn’t suppose Bodfish was his re’l name. But +he was an American—and a boy. I couldn’t leave him to be put aboard +some coaster where he’d be beaten to death. He hasn’t been much good, +though, aboard this bark. But maybe by the time we see Bedford again +he’ll be licked into some sort of shape. I put him in Ben’s watch, +knowing that Robbins might be too ha’sh with him.”</p> + +<p>But I was eager to read my mother’s letter—and the others. I asked the +kind old captain’s permission, and dropped right down there and perused +the several epistles which good fortune had at last brought to me. Oh, I +was glad indeed that I had cabled mother from Buenas Ayres. And now I +wished more than ever that I had gone home from there instead of +shipping in the Sea Spell.</p> + +<p>Mother had cabled me two hundred dollars. Paul had made way with it all, +it seemed, and Captain Rogers had found him in the lowest kind of a +sailor’s lodging house, helpless, in debt to the keeper of the place, +and unable to get away.</p> + +<p>But I was not interested in my cousin’s fate just then. I read mother’s +long letter with a feeling that all was not as well at home as I could +wish. She had been greatly shocked at my disappearance. At first they +had <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_250' id='pg_250'>250</a></span>thought I had run away. I could guess mighty easily who suggested +<i>that</i> idea!</p> + +<p>She did not write much of Mr. Chester Downes; but she did mention the +fact that when she had returned to Darringford House Mr. Hounsditch had +been very officious in attending upon her and in showing her that she +was a good deal tied down by the provisions of grandfather’s will and +that the lawyer was to advise her at every turn. Especially did she +complain that Mr. Hounsditch had been officious since I was heard from.</p> + +<p>The tone of her letter hurt me a little. There seemed to be some idea +still in her mind that it was my reckless disposition more than the +crime of another, that had set me adrift in the <i>Wavecrest</i>. She spoke +of “Mr. Downes’ great trouble” and of “poor Paul” as though they were +both to be pitied. Otherwise she did not touch on the topic of my having +been cut adrift by my cousin, or his emissaries.</p> + +<p>It was from Ham Mayberry’s letter I got the facts regarding my cousin +and his father. Lampton, the man at the boathouse, and Ham himself had +had their suspicions of what had become of me, and how the <i>Wavecrest</i> +had been swept away in the storm, before my letters from the Scarboro +were received. They had found the cut mooring cable.</p> + +<p>Ham, too, had sounded the ne’er-do-wells who were my cousin’s +companions, and after the house on the Neck was closed for the <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_251' id='pg_251'>251</a></span>season, +and the Downeses had departed with my mother for Darringford House, the +old coachman had obtained a confession from the young scoundrels to the +effect that they had helped Paul nail me into my cabin and had seen him +cut the <i>Wavecrest</i> adrift.</p> + +<p>At the time I was heard from, Ham put all the evidence into the hands of +Mr. Hounsditch, and the old lawyer had gone to the Downeses and +threatened procedure against Paul. Chester Downes had flown into a +violent passion with his son and had actually driven him out of his +house, and Paul had disappeared. Of course, Ham at the time of writing +knew nothing of what had become of Paul. There was a paragraph at the +end of Ham’s letter that was explanatory, too, and I repeat it here:</p> + +<p>“I don’t know what you mean by your questions about Jim Carver—that was +his name. He was one of the three Carver boys—Bill and Jonas were as +straight as a chalk line; but Jim always was a little crooked. He worked +for the fish firm of Pallin & Thorpe, and I remember that he disappeared +with some of the cash from their safe about the time poor Dr. Webb was +drowned. Do you mean to say you have run across Jim Carver on board that +whaling bark? Folks hereabout thought Jim Carver was dead years ago.”</p> + +<p>So <i>that</i> settled the mystery of the man I had come clear down here to +the Straits of Magellan to find—the man whom Captain <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_252' id='pg_252'>252</a></span>Adoniram Tugg +knew as Professor Vose and who had met so terrible an end when the +savages had destroyed Tugg’s headquarters. It did not need Lawyer +Hounsditch’s letter to show me how unwise I had been in not making my +way directly home from Buenos Ayres when I had had the chance.</p> + +<p>The lawyer reminded me that my mother needed me. He did not say anything +directly—for he was a sly old fellow—but he intimated plainly enough +that he feared Mr. Chester Downes’ influence in our home. I was almost a +man grown, he said, even if I was a minor. “Your place is by your +mother’s side. The lust for roving was born in you, I suppose,” he +wrote, “your father had it, too; but put Duty before Inclination, and +come home at once.”</p> + +<p>Had I received those three letters when I visited the consulate at +Buenos Ayres, I would have found means of taking the first steamer north +thereafter. Even the romantic idea I had of trying to find my father +would not have set aside what I plainly knew to be my duty.</p> + +<p>I was hurt that mother should so cling to Chester Downes as her friend +after all that had happened; yet I could not blame her for what was a +weakness, not a fault. She was the best and dearest little woman on +earth! And she needed me at that very moment, perhaps. Nothing now, I +determined, should keep me from taking passage for home at the very +earliest opportunity.</p> + +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='In_Which_I_at_Last_Set_My_Face_Homeward_with_Determination_5946' id='In_Which_I_at_Last_Set_My_Face_Homeward_with_Determination_5946'></a> +<p class='center' style='font-variant:small-caps; font-size:large;'>Chapter XXX</p> +<p class='center' style='margin: 0 20% 0 20%; font-size:large'><i>In Which I at Last Set My Face Homeward with Determination</i></p> +</div> + +<p>When I came up from the captain’s room I stepped out on deck face to +face with my cousin, Paul Downes. He tried to sneak past me, but I +seized him by the shoulder and jammed him up against the side of the +house.</p> + +<p>“You lemme go, Clint Webb!” he whined. “I don’t want nothing to do with +you—now, I tell you!”</p> + +<p>“I bet you don’t want anything to do with me,” I replied, eyeing him +with some curiosity.</p> + +<p>Paul looked as though he had had a hard time of it. He was dressed in +the roughest sort of clothing, he had a bruised face (I fear Ben Gibson +had punished him for disrespect, for Paul was just the sort of a fellow +to try and take advantage of the second mate’s youth) and altogether he +was a most disreputable and hang-dog looking creature.</p> + +<p>“I’d never come aboard this old tub if I’d known what whaling was like,” +whined Paul. “And now I want you to get this captain to let me off. +You’re going home, they tell me.”</p> + +<p>“I hope to get away about as soon as we arrive as Punta Arenas,” I +declared.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_254' id='pg_254'>254</a></span>“Then I want you to get me away from this place, too. You’ll have money +enough to pay both our fares home——”</p> + +<p>“Well, I never heard of such cheek!” I interrupted.</p> + +<p>“Now, you do as I say. Father will pay you back. I’ll make him,” said +Paul, as though he thought the whole thing was cut and dried.</p> + +<p>“Why, you shipped for the voyage, didn’t you?”</p> + +<p>“Ye-es. They said something like that. But I didn’t mean it,” said my +cousin.</p> + +<p>“You’ll find that sea captains expect a man to abide by the ship’s +papers. I don’t know as Captain Rogers loves you much, but maybe he’ll +want to keep you just the same.”</p> + +<p>“He ain’t trying to hold you,” snarled Paul.</p> + +<p>“I never signed on,” I replied. “I haven’t been a real member of the +crew at all. But you were very glad for Captain Rogers to take you out +of the clutches of that crimp at Buenos Ayres. You won’t get away from +the Scarboro so easy.”</p> + +<p>“I ain’t going to stay,” he declared, bitterly. “I don’t like it. I want +to go home.”</p> + +<p>“The voyage will maybe teach you something, Paul,” I said, and I must +confess I enjoyed his discomfiture.</p> + +<p>“You better help me out o’ here,” he threatened. “You can do it.”</p> + +<p>“If I could help you, I wouldn’t,” I declared, <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_255' id='pg_255'>255</a></span>with some heat. “Think +I’ve forgotten what you did to me at the consul’s office?”</p> + +<p>He grinned a little; but he was angry, too. “You better help me to a +passage home,” he growled.</p> + +<p>“Not much!”</p> + +<p>“You’ll wish you had,” he declared. “I’ll write your mother and tell her +just how you’ve treated me. I’ve had a hard time——”</p> + +<p>And he actually acted and spoke as though he considered himself +ill-used! I never in my life saw such a fellow. Always blaming somebody +else for the troubles he brought upon himself. I was soon tired of +listening to him.</p> + +<p>“Come! stow all that!” I advised him. “You’re a member of the Scarboro’s +crew, and you joined of your own free will. The only reason I see for my +trying to get you away from here is to have you arrested and punished +for getting hold of my money at Buenos Ayres. I could put you in bad for +that. You be thankful you are away down here on the Scarboro, instead of +at Buenos Ayres.”</p> + +<p>“So you won’t help me get away?” he snarled.</p> + +<p>“No, sir!”</p> + +<p>“All right. You wait. You’ll be sorry.”</p> + +<p>“Now, don’t threaten me any more,” I returned. “I hope this voyage will +do you some good. I think you’ll learn something before the Scarboro +reaches New Bedford again. We’ll hope so, anyway.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_256' id='pg_256'>256</a></span>He only snarled at me as I passed on. I had just as little to do with +him as possible while I remained aboard the bark. We were at Punta +Arenas in a few hours, and the very next morning the bark was warped in +beside the tramp steamer and the oil in the whaler’s tanks was being +pumped aboard the steamship. The men were given short shore leave; but +Captain Rogers put Paul Downes in the care of Bill Rudd, the carpenter, +and made him responsible for him.</p> + +<p>“I ain’t got my money’s worth out o’ that greenhorn yet,” declared the +skipper. “He ain’t earned yet what I had to pay for his board bill in +Buenos Ayres. Don’t you let him get away, Rudd.”</p> + +<p>I knew that my cousin would come to no harm with Captain Rogers. The +cruise might be the means of making some sort of a man of him, at least. +So I put Paul and his affairs right out of my mind.</p> + +<p>There was a steamer touching at Buenos Ayres due through the straits in +a couple of days, and I prepared to board her. Once in the big Argentine +seaport I would take passage on a Bayne Liner for Boston. I was eager +for the homeward journey now, although I felt that I never should be +tired of the salt water. But, as Lawyer Hounsditch advised, I put Duty +ahead of Inclination.</p> + +<p>I bade my friends aboard the Scarboro good-bye and went ashore, spending +the night before I was to sail for the north in a decent house near the +landing. I knew my mother <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_257' id='pg_257'>257</a></span>would be glad to see me and I had no fear but +that, once beside her, I should find means of keeping Mr. Chester Downes +at a distance. I had no reason to doubt the future, or what it might +hold in store for me. That it did not prove wholly uneventful the reader +may discover for himself in the second volume of this series, entitled: +“The Frozen Ship; or, Clint Webb Among the Sealers.”</p> + +<p>I was not thinking of either romance or adventure, however, when I began +my homeward voyage. I expected it to be quite uneventful, and was only +anxious to walk into Darringford House, surprise my little mother, and +take her once again in my arms!</p> + +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<hr class="full" /> +<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SWEPT OUT TO SEA***</p> +<p>******* This file should be named 23674-h.txt or 23674-h.zip *******</p> +<p>This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:<br /> +<a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/3/6/7/23674">http://www.gutenberg.org/2/3/6/7/23674</a></p> +<p>Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed.</p> + +<p>Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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Gutenberg eBook, Swept Out to Sea, by W. Bertram Foster + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: Swept Out to Sea + Clint Webb Among the Whalers + + +Author: W. Bertram Foster + + + +Release Date: December 2, 2007 [eBook #23674] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SWEPT OUT TO SEA*** + + +E-text prepared by Roger Frank and the Project Gutenberg Online +Distributed Proofreading Team (https://www.pgdp.net) + + + +Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this + file which includes the original illustration. + See 23674-h.htm or 23674-h.zip: + (https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/3/6/7/23674/23674-h/23674-h.htm) + or + (https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/3/6/7/23674/23674-h.zip) + + + + + +SWEPT OUT TO SEA + +Or +Clint Webb Among the Whalers + +by + +W. BERT FOSTER + +Author of +The Frozen Ship; or, Clint Webb Among the Sealers. +From Sea to Sea; or, Clint Webb on the Windjammer. +The Ocean Express; or, Clint Webb and the Sea Tramp + + + + + + + +[Illustration: I Caught Sight of a Big Ship With a Wonderful Lot of +Canvas Set (Swept Out to Sea) (Chapter 28)] + + + +Chicago M. A. Donohue & Co. + +Copyright 1913 +by M. A. Donohue & Company + + + + +CONTENTS + + CHAPTER PAGE + + I--In Which My Cousin and I Have a Serious Falling Out 7 + II--In Which is Shown the Result of a Bad Beginning 15 + III--In Which I am Anxious to Learn the Particulars + of a Matter of Fourteen Years Standing 22 + IV--In Which Ham Mayberry Reveals His Suspicions 34 + V--In Which the Old Coachman Goes Somewhat Into Details 43 + VI--In Which is Related a Conversation With My Mother 49 + VII--In Which I Put Two and Two Together--and Sleep + Aboard the Wavecrest 57 + VIII--In Which An Expected Comedy Proves to be a Tragedy 65 + IX--In Which I See the Day Dawn Upon a Deserted Ocean 72 + X--In Which I Find a Most Remarkable Haven 82 + XI--In Which I Am a Terrified Witness of a + Wonderful Phenomenon 92 + XII--In Which I Find Myself Bound for Southern Seas 107 + XIII--In Which Tom Anderly Relates a Story That + Arouses My Interest 119 + XIV--In Which I Hear for the First Time the Whalers' + Battle-Cry 133 + XV--In Which We "Strike On" 142 + XVI--In Which There is Some Information and Much Excitement 150 + XVII--In Which I Come Very Near Going Out of the Story 159 + XVIII--In Which We Realize the "Grind" of the Whaleman's Life 164 + XIX--In Which is Reported a Series of Misadventures 172 + XX--In Which Our Chapter of Bad Luck is Continued 180 + XXI--In Which the Wavecrest Sets Sail Again 186 + XXII--In Which We Sail the Silver River and I See + a Face I Know 193 + XXIII--In Which I begin to Wonder "Is It Me, or Is It Not Me?" 198 + XXIV--In Which I Get Acquainted With Captain Adoniram Tugg 208 + XXV--In Which I Follow the Beckoning Finger of a Spectre 215 + XXVI--In Which the Sea Spell Goes Ashore on a + Most Unfriendly Coast 222 + XXVII--In Which We Find the Natives More Unfriendly + Than the Coast 232 + XXVIII--In Which are Related Several Disappointments 239 + XXIX--In Which I Am Not the Only Person Surprised 245 + XXX--In Which I at Last Set My Face Homeward + with Determination 253 + + + + + + +SWEPT OUT TO SEA +or +CLINT WEBB AMONG THE WHALERS + +CHAPTER I + +IN WHICH MY COUSIN AND I HAVE A SERIOUS FALLING OUT + + +The wind had died to just a breath, barely filling the canvas of the +Wavecrest. We were slowly making the mouth of the inlet at Bolderhead +after a day's fishing. Occasionally as the fitful breeze swooped down +the sloop made a pretty little run, then she'd sulk, with the sail +flapping, till another puff came. I lay in the stern with my hand on the +tiller, half asleep, while Paul Downes, my cousin, was stretched forward +of the mast, wholly in dreamland. A little roll of the sloop as she +tacked, almost threw him into the water and he awoke with a snarl and +sat up. + +"For goodness sake! aren't we in yet?" he demanded, crossly. "What you +been doing for the last hour Clint Webb? We're no nearer the inlet now +than we were then, I swear!" + +That was a peculiarity about Paul. He was addicted to laying the faults +of even inanimate objects to the charge of other people; and as for +himself personally, he was never in the wrong! Now he felt that he must +have somebody on whom to vent his vexation--and hunger; I was used to +being that scapegoat, and it was seldom that I paid much attention to +his snarling. On this particular occasion, I said, calmly: + +"Now, Paul, you know very well that I hold no position with the +Meteorological Bureau, and therefore you shouldn't lay the sins of the +weather to me." + +"Huh! ain't you smart?" he grunted. + +You see, Paul had awakened in rather a quarrelsome frame of mind +while--well, I was hungry, too (it was long past our dinner hour) and so +felt in a tantalizing mood. If we had not been at just these odds on +this lovely September evening, the incidents which follow might never +have occurred. Out of this foolish beginning of a quarrel came a chain +of circumstances which entirely changed the current of my life. Had I +held my tongue I would have been saved much sorrow and peril, and many, +many regrets. + +"I'm smart--I admit it," said I, cooly; "but I can't govern the wind. +We'll get in by bedtime." + +"And nothing to eat aboard," growled Paul. + +"There's the fish _you_ caught," said I, chuckling. + +Paul had had abominable luck all day, the only thing he landed being +what we Bolderhead boys called a "grunter"--a frog-mouthed fish of most +unpleasant aspect and of absolutely no use as food. All it did when he +shook it off his hook in disgust was to swell up like a toy balloon and +emit an objective grunt whenever it was poked. Funny, but these +"grunters" always reminded me of Paul. + +Now, at my suggestion, my cousin broke into another tirade of abuse of +the Wavecrest, and what he termed my carelessness. I didn't care much +what he said about me, and I suppose there was some reason for his +criticism; I should not have gone outside the inlet without more than +just a bite of luncheon in the cuddy. But when he referred to my bonnie +sloop as "an old tub" and said it wasn't rigged right and that I didn't +know how to sail her, then--well, I leave it to you if it wouldn't have +made you huffy? You know how it is yourself. Wait till the next fellow +makes disparaging remarks about your bicycle, for instance or your motor +cycle, or canoe, or what-not, and see how you feel! + +"What's the use of talking that way, Paul?" I demanded, interrupting +him. "You know the Wavecrest is by far the lightest-footed craft of +her class in Bolderhead Harbor." + +"No such thing!" he declared. "She's a measly, good-for-nothing old +tub." + +"All I've got to say is that you're a bad judge of tubs," said I. + +"You're a fool!" he exclaimed, and jumped up. + +"Now, you know, Paul, if your opinion was of any consequence at all I +should be angry," I replied, still with exaggerated calmness. + +"I'm going to take the skiff and row ashore," said he. "You can bring +your old tub in when you like." + +"Thank you; but I guess not! I'd gladly be relieved of your company; but +I shall want to get ashore myself some time tonight," I rejoined. + +"I tell you I'm going ashore!" cried Paul, coming aft to where the +painter was hitched. + +"Get away!" I commanded, my own temper rising. "You're not going to +leave me without means of landing after we reach our buoy." + +"Oh, somebody will see you and take you off," he said, selfishly. + +"Maybe somebody will; then again, maybe they won't." + +"I'll come out for you after dinner," he said, with a grin that I knew +meant he had no such intention. + +"Get away from that painter!" I commanded. "You forced your company on +me today--I didn't invite you to go fishing--" + +"The sloop's as much mine as yours," he growled. + +"I'd like to know how you figure that out?" returned I, in amazement. + +"When your mother bought it she told father it was for us to use +together; but of course you always 'hog' everything." + +Now I knew that my mother never would have said what he claimed; but I +was angry with her for the moment because of her good natured invitation +to Paul to use my personal property. The Wavecrest was my dearest +possession. As the saying is, there was more salt water in my veins than +blood; our folks had all been sailors--my father's people, I mean--and I +was enamored of the sea and sea-going. + +When mother built our summer cottage on the Neck I knew how 'twould be. +I foresaw that her brother-in-law and his son (Aunt Alice was dead some +years then) would live with us about half the time; but that mother +should have said anything to give Paul ground for his statement, rasped +me sorely. + +"Let me tell you, Paul Downes," said I, sharply, "that no person has any +right in this boat but myself, unless I invite them; and I'll inform you +right now that this is the last trip you'll ever take in her with my +permission." + +"Is that so?" sneered Paul. + +"That's so--and you can make the best of it." + +"Well, who wants to go out in your old tub?" he burst forth. "Goodness +knows, I don't. But I'm going ashore right now and you can come in when +you like." + +He started to untie the painter. Somehow his perversity made me furious. + +"Drop it!" I repeated; "you're not going to leave this sloop till I +do--unless you swim ashore." + +"Well, you just try stopping me," he snarled, his temper getting the +better for the moment of his usual caution. Paul was a bigger and +heavier, as well as an older fellow than I; but he had never dared try +fisticuffs with me. + +I sprang up and let the tiller bang. Luckily there was so little wind +that the sloop took no harm. "Get away from there!" I cried. + +"I tell you I am going ashore now." + +"You're not." + +"I am; and it won't be healthy for you to try to stop me, Clint Webb." + +I know very well that this is a bad way to begin my story; I expect you +will be disgusted with me right at the start. But what am I to do? I +have started out to narrate the incidents which occurred and the various +changes that have come into my life since this very September evening; +and truth compels me to begin with this quarrel. For from this time +dated the purpose which inspired my future life. + +So, I hope that the reader will bear with me, even though I introduce +much the worse side of my character first. Facts are stubborn things, +and I have in this introduction to set down some very stubborn and +unpleasant facts. + +I sprang up, as I say, and left the tiller, and as Paul seemed to have +no intention of obeying me, I advanced upon him threateningly. We were +both enraged. + +"Take your hand off that rope," said I, earnestly. "Get away! I mean +it." + +His reply was a foul word. His eyes were blazing and he grew dark under +his skin like his father, as his wrath rose. I had always believed that +there was Indian blood in the veins of Mr. Chester Downes. I was so near +Paul that I had to step back to gather force for a blow, and as I +retreated he suddenly kicked me. It was a mean trick--a foul blow and +worthy of Paul Downes. Had I not stepped back as I did he might have +broken my shin bone, for he wore heavy boots. As it was, the toe of his +boot caught me just below the knee-cap and I could not stifle a cry of +pain. + +However, the kick did not stop the blow I landed straight from the +shoulder and it gave me some satisfaction, even at the time, to note +that Paul's howl of agony was much louder than mine as he picked himself +up from the other end of the cockpit. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +IN WHICH IS SHOWN THE RESULT OF A BAD BEGINNING + + +Paul's face was convulsed with passion, and when he was in a rage he +lost all control to his tongue, using language that was simply frightful +from a boy brought up in a decent home. And at this particular time he +was so enraged that he forgot to be afraid! He rushed at me the instant +he regained his feet, his arms beating the air like those of a windmill. +He was a lubberly fellow at best and the sloop, with the tiller swinging +as it listed, was kicking and jumping like a restive pony. I squared off +at him in proper form, and when he came within reach I landed a second +blow which likewise sent him to the deck. + +I glanced hurriedly about. The Wavecrest was some distance from any of +the other craft beating into the harbor. The sun had set long since and +the moon, a great, round target of silver, was rising out of the sea, +its light shimmering across the heaving liquid plain. A more peaceful +scene one could scarcely imagine, and somehow it took the heat of +passion out of me. + +"Hold on, Paul! we mustn't fight like this," I said, as he rose again, +the blood running from his nose and his cheek swollen as though he had a +walnut in it. + +"You're goin' to _crawl_ now, are ye?" he yelled. + +"It's foolish and wicked for us to act like this," said I, hastily. +"What will your father and my mother say?" + +"I don't care what they say!" he shouted, wildly. "I'll make you wish +you'd never struck me, Clint Webb." + +He sprang aft again. I caught the glimmer of moonlight upon something he +clutched in his hand. "What are you doing, Paul?" I cried. + +But he plunged toward me, his dark features writhing in passion. At the +moment Paul Downes was a murderer at heart; although I believed I could +beat him in any fair fight, the weapon in his hand frightened me. + +"Put it down, Paul! Put it down!" I begged of him. But he was on top of +me in a breath and we rolled over and over in the sloop's cockpit. Why +it was that he did not seriously injure me, I cannot tell to this day! +He struck at me viciously a dozen times; but by a miracle I escaped even +a scratch. + +Suddenly I caught his wrist, twisting it so that the open claspknife +shot out of his hand. The relief I felt at this must have renewed my +strength. In another instant I had rolled him over upon his face and +knelt upon him so that he could not move. There was a piece of codline +in my pocket and I had his wrists knotted behind him in short order--nor +was I particular whether I hurt him, or not! Then I stood up and rolled +him over with my foot. + +"There!" I panted; "if ever a fellow deserved jailing, you're that +fellow, Paul Downes." + +"I'll fix you for this! I'll fix you for this!" he kept blubbering. + +I was bruised and lame myself (especially where Paul had kicked me in +the leg) and now I discovered that my right coatsleeve was slit from the +shoulder to the wrist. I had just escaped suffering a dangerous wound. + +"Aren't you a pretty fellow?" I said, showing him this rent. + +"I wish I'd got you!" he snarled so viciously that I was really +startled. + +"You won't feel that way when you cool down," I said. + +"I won't cool down. I'll get square with you for this if I wait ten +years," he declared. + +"You're for all the world like your father," I said, hotly; "and he's as +revengeful a person as I ever saw." + +"Is that so?" retorted Paul. "Well, he isn't like your father was--_he_ +had to commit suicide to get out of trouble----" + +"What do you mean?" I cried, amazed. + +But Paul bit his lip and fell silent. He nevertheless looked at me with +so threatening a scowl that, had he not been tied hard and fast, I +should have been on the lookout for another cowardly attack. + +"What nonsense is that you said?" I repeated. "What do you know about my +father?" + +"Wouldn't you like to know?" returned my cousin, sullenly. + +I recovered myself then, believing he was only trying to fret me. "You +needn't talk nonsense," I said. "If you mean to say that my father made +way with himself, why you're simply silly! Everybody knows that he was +drowned while fishing, over there off White Rock." + +"So everybody knows it, hey?" he responded, with a most exasperating air +of knowing something that _I_ didn't know. "All right. I'm glad that +folks know so much. But let me tell you, Clint Webb, that you and your +ma'd be paupers now if he hadn't got drowned as he did. It was the only +thing he could do." + +"You'd better drop it," I advised him, scornfully. "You'd much better be +thinking of what will happen to you because of this evening's work. You +can't bother me by any such silly talk." + +"Oh, I can't hey?" he snarled in a tone that, defenceless as he was, +tempted me to kick him. + +But just then the sail of the sloop began to fill. I ran to the tiller +and brought her head around. A little breeze had sprung up and the +Wavecrest was under good way again. In a few moments we passed the +light at the entrance to the harbor, and tacked for our anchorage. My +mother's property did not include shore rights, so we had no private +landing at which to tie the sloop, but moored her at a buoy in the quiet +cove near the ferry dock. + +"What do you mean to do with me?" asked Paul, having been mighty quiet +for the last few minutes. + +"I'm going to march you up to the house and hand you over to your +father. And if I have any influence with mother at all, both you and he +will pack your dunnage and leave in the morning." + +He fell silent again until I had dropped the sail and picked up our +float. When the Wavecrest was fast he asked more meekly: + +"Aren't you going to take this cord off my wrist?" + +"No. You're going up to the house in just that fix." + +"I won't do it!" he cried with a sudden burst of rage. + +"Then you'll stay here while I go up and tell them where you are." + +He didn't like that idea, either, and whined: "Don't be so mean, Clint. +I don't want to go up to the house this way. What will folks think?" + +"'What will folks think?'" I repeated in amazement. "I s'pose that's the +first thing you'd worried about if you'd cut me with that knife." + +He said no more, but he gave me a threatening look which, had I been of +a nervous temperament, might have kept me awake nights. When I drew the +tender alongside he stepped in without further urging and sat down in +the stern. I rowed ashore. Fortunately for the tender feelings of my +cousin there wasn't a soul in sight when we landed. I fastened the boat, +and then, with the oars on my shoulder and the slack of the codline in +my hand, start him up the shell road. + +"Let me go, Clint," he begged again. + +"Not for Joe!" + +"Then you'll be sorry the longest day you live," he cried, his ugly face +suddenly convulsed. + +And he was right; but I did not believe it at the time. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +IN WHICH I AM ANXIOUS TO LEARN THE PARTICULARS OF A MATTER OF FOURTEEN +YEARS STANDING + + +My mother's summer home was built upon the highest point of Bolderhead +Neck and commanded a view of both the ocean and the inlet, or harbor, +around which Old Bolderhead was built. + +My mother's early life had not been spent near the water; her people +dwelt inland. My maternal grandfather owned half a township and was a +very influential man. Naturally my mother had lived in affluence during +her girlhood and it was considered by her friends a great mistake on her +part when she married my father. He was a ship's surgeon when they were +married and his only income was derived from the practise of his +profession. He established himself as a physician in Bolderhead after +the wedding; they lived simply, and I was their only child. + +Grandfather didn't forgive mother for marrying a poor man. The old +gentleman didn't get along well with his relatives, anyway. He hadn't +liked the man his oldest daughter married, Mr. Chester Downes. When I +grew old enough to understand the character of Mr. Downes I could not +blame grandfather for his bad opinion of the man! Aunt Alice dying +before grandfather, Mr. Downes could never hope to handle much of +grandfather's money. There was a sum set aside for Paul in grandfather's +will. And even that Mr. Downes could not touch; it was tied up until +Paul was of age. After several large charities had been remembered in +the will the residue of the property had come to my mother. As I +understood it I was but two years old when grandfather died, and my own +father was drowned three weeks after grandfather's burial. + +We had gone to live at once in mother's old home; but she had a tender +feeling for Bolderhead, and as I grew older and evinced such a love for +the sea, she had built our summer home here. + +Mother was one of those dependent, timid women, who seem unable to +decide any matter for themselves. Not that she wasn't the very best +mother that ever lived! But she _was_ easily influenced by other people. +As I grew older and began to understand what went on more clearly, I +knew that Chester Downes possessed a stronger influence over mother than +was good for either her or me. He was her confidant in business matters, +too. + +Being brought up in the same inland town together, my cousin Paul and I +naturally saw a good deal of each other. Frankly I saw altogether too +much of him--and I told my mother so. But Mr. Downes was all the time +coming to the house--especially to the Bolderhead cottage--and bringing +Paul with him. + +I felt that they were steadily and insidiously influencing mother +against me. We were drifting apart. Mother had through them acquired the +belief that I was a rude and untrustworthy fellow, and she feared my +boatmen companions were weaning me from her. Whereas I kept away from +the house because the Downeses were there. I couldn't stand so much of +them. + +But on this evening I was determined that matters should come to a head. +I saw my way clear, I believed, through Paul's vicious attack upon me, +to rid the house of the Downeses for good and all. + +As we came up the hill I saw that my mother, and doubtless Mr. Downes, +were in the drawing room. It was long past the dinner hour. I drove +Paul up onto the veranda and towards a French window that opened into +the illuminated room. He began to hang back again. + +"S'pose there's somebody there?" he said. + +"That'll be the worse for you," I responded, callously. "Come on!" + +I unlatched the window, held aside the draperies, and pushed him into +the room before me. My mother and his father were the only persons +present. + +"Why, boys! how late you are," said my pretty mother, looking up from +the lacework in her lap. Her fingers were always busy. "Were you +becalmed outside? You must be awfully hungry. Ring for James, Clinton, +and he will fix you up something nice in the pantry." Then she saw +Paul's bound wrists, his bruised face, and our disarranged clothing. +"What is the matter?" she cried, starting to her feet. + +Mr. Downes had observed us too, and he broke in with: "What is the +meaning of this outrage, Clinton Webb? My son's wrists lashed together! +How dare you, sir?" + +"I tied him up, Mr. Downes," I explained before Paul could get in a +word; "but I turn him over to your now, sir, and if you wish to release +him you may." + +"Why--why--Whoever heard of such insolence?" sputtered Mr. Downes. "You +see, Mary, what this young ruffian has done to poor Paul? Stand still, +will you?" he added, jerking Paul around as he tried to untie the cod +line. Paul began to snivel; I reckon his father pulled the line so tight +that it cut into the flesh. + +"See what he has done, Mary?" repeated my angry uncle, finally pulling +out his pocketknife and cutting the cord. "Look at Paul's face! What +have I told you about that boy?" and he pointed a bony and accusing +index finger at me. + +"Clinton! Clinton!" cried mother. "What have you done?" + +Her question cut me to the quick. It showed me how deeply she had been +impressed by Mr. Downes' calumnies. Her first thought was that I was at +fault--that I had been the aggressor. + +"You can see what I have done to him," said I, a little sullenly, I +fear. "We got into a row on the boat coming in, and that is how he came +by his bruises. But I tied him up because I didn't fancy being slit up +like a codfish with this thing," and I drew the claspknife--a regular +sailor's "gully"--from my coat pocket and tossed it, open, upon the +table. + +Mother screamed and shuddered, and sank back into her chair again. + +"You needn't be scared," I said, more tenderly, crossing to her side and +putting my arm across her shoulders. "I'm not hurt at all. He only slit +my coat sleeve!" + +Mr. Downes glanced from his son's swollen and disfigured face to my +flapping coatsleeve, and fear came into his own countenance. He knew +something about the ungovernable rages into which Paul frequently flew. +He was obliged to wet his lips with s tongue before he could speak: + +"You will not believe this horrible, scandalous story, Mary! +Why--why--The boy is beside himself!" + +"I think Paul was," I said, gravely. "We were both angry--I admit that. +But I used nothing but my fists on him." + +"Paul! Why don't you speak up and deny this charge?" + +"I--I never struck him with the knife," said my cousin, sullenly. +"He--he tied my arms and then he--he slit the coat himself. I--I never +touched him." + +He lied so clumsily that even my innocent and horrified mother could +not believe him. But Mr. Dowries tried to make out that he believed +Paul. + +"Listen to that, Mary!" he blustered. "Did you ever hear of such +depravity--such viciousness? A plot to ruin my boy in your eyes--a +cowardly plot!" + +"It is no plot, Mr. Downes, and you know it," I said. "But I am going to +use the circumstance to a purpose which for some time I have longed to +accomplish. You and Paul will leave my mother's house--and leave it at +once!" + +"Clinton!" gasped mother, seizing my hand. + +"There, Madam!" cried Mr. Downes, furiously. "He has just as good as +admitted it is a conspiracy. Nefarious! He has invented this story----" + +"Mr. Downes," I interrupted, my anger rising, "you have done everything +you could to prejudice mother against me. Is it any wonder that I desire +to see the last of you and your precious son?" + +"Clinton! Clinton! My dear son," mother begged. "Don't be so +passionate." + +"I never was more calm in my life," I responded, firmly. "But these two +shall not stay in our house another night, mother." + +She burst into tears. Mr. Downes stepped nearer and his sneering look +would have enraged me at another time. But I felt that I had the +whip-hand and held myself in. + +"Fortunately," he said, "your will, young man, is not law here. It is +not in your power to put us out of your mother's home." + +"You are mistaken," I replied, still quietly. "I have that power." + +"You are a minor, sir," said Mr. Downes, loftily. "I brand your +ridiculous story as false. It would be quite within your character to +have cut your coat sleeve as Paul says. I will not even believe that +that is his knife----" + +He stretched out his hand to take it from the table but I was too quick +for him. "No, you don't!" I said. "That is too valuable a bit of +evidence for you to get hold of. Even Paul will not deny owning the +knife. I know where he bought it and I can find the man who engraved his +initials on the blade." + +"Very well planned indeed," sneered Mr. Downes, but I sternly +interrupted: + +"Mr. Downes, again I tell you that you _must_ leave this house. You and +Paul shall never again live under the same roof with me." + +"When I hear your mother say this----" + +"This is a matter which my mother will not have to decide," I assured +him, and without looking at her although I had returned to my place by +her side. + +"And why should we obey your behest, young man?" + +"If you don't leave I shall go out at once and swear out a warrant +against Paul for assault with this knife. And I'll have the warrant +served, too." + +"Oh, Clinton!" sobbed my mother. "Don't think of such a thing." + +"As sure as I live it shall be done, unless they go." + +"Think of the publicity!" said my mother, clinging to my hand. + +"Yes," I rejoined, bitterly. "And think what might have happened if he'd +got me with that knife." + +"You--you----" gasped Mr. Downes. "You are your father right over +again!" + +"Thank you; I consider that a compliment." + +"You wouldn't consider it such if you knew as much about him as I do," +he muttered. + +"Now that will do!" I exclaimed, losing my self-control on the instant. +"I've heard enough insinuations regarding father from Paul tonight. I +won't stand any more of that talk, I warn you both!" + +"Clinton!" murmured mother, with a very white face, while Downes turned +upon his son in a sudden rage. + +"What have you been saying--you fool?" he snarled. Paul was quite cowed +before his sudden wrath. + +"Paul may be diffident about saying," I observed. "But I'll tell you. He +says my father committed suicide, and that if he hadn't done so my +mother and I would be paupers today." + +I never saw a man's countenance express such changes of emotion within +so short a time. From anger to fear--and back again--was such a swift +transition that it startled me. I began from that moment to wonder very +much what the mystery was which surrounded my father's death fourteen +years before! + +But the next instant my attention was recalled to my mother. For a +moment she sat motionless. Now she started up from her chair with a +little cry. + +"What is it, mother?" I cried, in alarm. Had I not caught her she would +have fallen to the floor. + +"Now, see what you have done!" snarled Mr. Downes. "You have +over-excited her. Get out of the way, boy----" + +I gave him a look that halted him. Had he touched my mother then I +would have been at his throat! Exerting all my strength I picked her up +bodily and carried her to the nearest couch. The bell push was at hand +and I rang for her maid. The woman responded immediately and James was +right behind her in the hall. + +"Attend to your mistress, Marie," I said. "And James!" + +"Yes, sir," said the big butler, coming to the door. + +"Order the carriage at once and see that Mr. Downes' bags are brought +down. They are leaving immediately." + +The butler's face was perfectly impassive. Mr. Downes broke into a nasty +laugh. + +"James will do nothing of the sort," he said. "I think too much of my +sister to leave the house while she is so unwell. What do you think, +Marie? Is it serious? Shall I telephone for Dr. Eldridge?" + +"I do not know, Monsieur," replied the French woman, anxiously. "She has +been frightened--ees eet not?" + +"This young reprobate would frighten anybody!" cried Mr. Downes, +blusteringly. + +"James," I said again, "do as I have told you. Tell Ham to bring the +carriage around inside of half an hour and to drive wherever Mr. Downes +shall direct. The ferry is not running at this hour, or I would not +trouble him." + +The butler glanced from my mother's death-white face to Mr. Downes. He +did not so much as favor me with a look, but with sphynx-like composure +left the room. To tell the truth I hadn't the least idea whether he +would obey me, or Mr. Downes. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +IN WHICH HAM MAYBERRY REVEALS HIS SUSPICIONS + + +Mr. Downes continued to bluster and Paul hung sullenly about the drawing +room. I had got through with both of them, however. Whether the +butler--and the other servants--backed me up, or not, I believed that I +had the whip-hand. + +Marie helped me bear my mother to her room. It troubled me greatly to +see her pretty face so pale and deathlike, and her eyes closed. I +hurried to the telephone and called up Dr. Eldridge, who was an old +friend of our family as well as our physician. I felt better when I +heard his voice over the wire and knew that he would soon be at the +house. + +Then I turned to get my hat and coat. I looked into the drawing room to +give Mr. Downes one more chance. He had been talking to his son in a low +voice, but with emphasis; and I could see by Paul's countenance that +the "calling down" he had received from his father was a serious one. + +"I warn you for the last time, Mr. Downes, that I am going to Justice of +the Peace Ringold just as soon as the doctor gets here to attend my +mother," I said. + +"You don't dare do any such thing, you young scoundrel!" roared Mr. +Chester Downes, and he actually sprang across the room at me. He was a +tall and bony man and I knew very well that I should fare ill in his +hands. I dodged back, found the imperturbable James in my way and as I +sidestepped him, too, Mr. Downes came face to face with the impassive +butler in the doorway. + +"Beg pardon, sir," James said, quietly. "Hamilton has the horses +harnessed and awaits your pleasure, sir." + +"You--you--" stammered Mr. Downes, evidently as much surprised that the +butler had obeyed me as _I_ could possibly be! + +"The carriage is waiting, sir," explained James, just as though the +occasion was an ordinary one. "Shall I bring down your bags, sir?" + +"No! I don't want our bags brought down!" cried Mr. Downes. "This is an +outrage. And let me tell you, you dunderhead," he added to James, "this +will cost you your position." + +The butler's voice did not change in the least. "Shall I bring down your +bags, sir?" he asked once more. + +"Yes!" cried Mr. Downes, changing his mind very suddenly. "We will go up +and pack them. But this is a sorry day for this house when we leave it +in such a way," he said, his threat hissing through his clenched teeth +as his glowing eyes sought my face in the hall. "And it is a sorry day +for _you_, you young villain! Remember this." + +"You threaten a good deal like your son, Mr. Downes," I said, unable to +resist a mild "gloat." "But he couldn't carry out his threat; I wonder if +you will be better able to compass your revenge?" + +He said nothing further, but dashed up stairs. Paul lagged behind him +and James, without a word to me, and with the attitude and manner of the +well-trained servant, followed sedately and stood outside of their rooms +waiting for the bags. + +I stepped out upon the side porch and saw Ham Mayberry, our coachman (he +had driven my father in his little chaise the two years that he had +practised in Bolderhead) sitting upon the box of the closed carriage. +Of all the people who worked for mother about the Bolderhead cottage, I +knew that Ham would take my part against the Downeses. Ham and I were +old cronies. + +And I believed that I could thank Ham for the butler's espousal of my +cause on this present occasion. Ham had a deal of influence with the +other servants, having been with us before mother was willed the great +Darringford property. + +Ham turned his head when I called to him in a low voice. + +"Watch what they do and where they go, Ham," I told him. "I want to see +you when you come back." + +"Aye, aye, sir!" he returned in his sailorlike way; for in Bolderhead if +you ask your direction of a man on the street he'll lay a course for you +as though you were at sea. Ham Mayberry, like most of the other male +inhabitants of the old town, had been a deep-sea sailor. + +I heard the quick, angry step of Mr. Downes descending the stairs then, +and I slipped out of the way. I didn't want any more words with him, if +I could help. They were leaving the house--and I meant it should be for +good. That satisfied me. + +I heard Paul follow him out upon the porch, and then James came with +the baggage. The carriage rolled briskly away just as Dr. Eldridge's +little electric wagon steamed up to the other door. The doctor--who was +a plump, bald, pink-faced man--trotted up the steps and I let him into +the house myself. + +"Well, well, Clint Webb!" he demanded. "What have you been doing to that +little mother of yours now?" + +But he said it in a friendly way. Dr. Eldridge knew well enough that I +never intended to cause mother a moment's anxiety. And I believed that I +could take him into my confidence--to an extent, at least. I did not +tell him how Paul had tried to knife me in the Wavecrest; but I +repeated what had really caused my mother's becoming so suddenly ill. + +"Ha!" he jerked out, as he got himself out of his tight, light overcoat +and picked up his case again from the hall settee. "The least said about +_that_ time before her the better. Tut, tut! the least said the better." + +And so saying he marched up stairs to her room, leaving me more eager +than ever to learn the particulars regarding my father's death. Now, I +had lived some sixteen years up to this very evening and had never +heard anything but the simplest and plainest story of my father's +unfortunate death. But even the doctor spurred my awakened curiosity +now. + +What did it mean? I had been told by my mother, by Ham, and by other +people as I grew up, that Dr. Webb had rowed out in a dory to fish off +White Rock, a particularly good local fishing ground for blackfish. Some +hours later a passing fishing party discovered the empty dory, bobbing +up and down at the end of its kedge cable. The fishing lines were out. +My father's hat was in the boat, and his watch lay upon a seat as though +he had taken it out and put it beside him so as not to forget when to +row back to attend to his patients. It was a fine timepiece, had +belonged to his father, and I wear it myself now on "state and date" +occasions. + +But the fishermen saw no other sign of the doctor. It was plain he had +fallen overboard. With the current as it is about White Rock it was no +wonder that the body was never recovered. + +The story seemed plain enough. There was nothing that could be added to +it. That there was any mystery about my father's death I could not +believe. And the suggestion that Paul Downes had made I utterly scoffed +at! + +Yet I wanted to see Ham Mayberry before I went to sleep that night. + +Dr. Eldridge came down after a long time, and his pink, fat face was +very serious. "How is she?" I asked him, eagerly. + +"She's all right--for the night," he replied. But his gravity did not +leave him--which was strange. The doctor was a most sanguine +practitioner and usually brought a spirit of cheerfulness with him into +any home where there was illness. "Clint," he said, "you want to be +careful of that little mother of yours." + +"My goodness, Doctor!" I exclaimed. "You don't suppose that I had +anything to do with this business tonight? That I brought it about?" + +"If you have another row with your cousin--or words with his +father--have it all outside the house. She is in a very nervous state. +She must not be worried. Friction in the household is bad for her. +And--well, I'll drop in again and see her tomorrow." + +What he said frightened me. When he had gone I went up and tapped on the +door. But Marie would not let me in the room. + +"She is resting now, Master Clin-tone," said the French woman, and then +shut the door in my face. + +I couldn't have slept then had I gone to bed. Beside, I was determined +to talk with Ham when he came back. I wandered down stairs again and +James, the butler, beckoned me into the dining room. At one end of the +table he had laid a cloth and he made me sit down and eat a very tasty +supper that had been prepared for me in the kitchen. This was an +attention I had not expected. It served to bolster up my belief that I +had some influence in my mother's house, after all! + +By and by I heard Ham drive in and I went out to the stables. We kept no +footman, Ham doing all the stablework. I helped him unharness Bob and +Betty, while he told me where he had taken the Downeses. There was a +small hotel in the old part of the town, and my uncle and Paul had gone +there for the night. + +"They'll probably attack the fortifications on the morrow, Master +Clint--or, them's my prognostications," remarked Ham, in conclusion. + +"Meaning they'll come over here and try to see mother?" I asked. + +"I reckon." + +"Then they're not to be let in, Ham. I want them kept out. Dr. Eldridge +says she should not be disturbed. I mean to see that his orders are +obeyed." + +"And I'm glad to see ye take the bit in your teeth, sir," exclaimed the +coachman, with emphasis. "It's time ye did so." + +"What do you mean, Ham?" I demanded, curiously. + +The old man--he was past sixty, but hale and hearty still--came out of +Bob's stall and put his grizzled face close to mine while he stared into +my eyes in the dim light of the stable lantern. + +"List ye, Master Clint," he said. "'Tis my suspicion that that same +scaley Chester Downes has it in his mind to get rid of you--to put ye +away from your mother altogether--to make her believe ye air a bad egg, +in fact. 'Tis time he and that precious b'y of his was put off the +place. Ye've done right this night, Clint Webb, if ye never done so +before." + + + + +CHAPTER V + +IN WHICH THE OLD COACHMAN GOES SOMEWHAT INTO DETAILS + + +Ordinarily it might seem that a servant taking it upon himself to so +plainly state his opinion of family matters, should be admonished. But +Hamilton Mayberry was just as much my friend as he was our hired +coachman. He had been my father's friend. He had served in the same ship +as my father long before he came ashore to drive horses for Dr. Webb. +And I verily believe the old man loved me as though I were his own +blood. + +Anyhow, I was too excited and worried on this night to think of any +class distinction. Beside, among Bolderhead people, the master was +considered no better than the man--if both behaved themselves, were +honest, and attended church on the Sabbath! + +So I opened my heart to Ham as we sat with our backs against the +grain-chest, and told him all that had occurred on the Wavecrest as +she drifted into the harbor that evening, and what had followed when I +brought Paul Downes home with his hands tied behind his back. + +"But what is puzzling me, Ham," I said, in conclusion, looking sideways +into his shrewdly puckered face, "is what those Downes meant by hinting +that there was something queer about father's death." + +"Huh!" grunted Ham. + +"What made that crazy Paul say he committed suicide, and that if he +hadn't we'd have been paupers?" + +"Huh!" said Ham again. + +"And why should such a foolish remark," I added, "have frightened +mother? For that is what brought about her fainting fit, I verily +believe." + +"Huh!" said the coachman for a third time, and then I got mad. + +"Stop that, Ham!" I cried. "Don't you go about trying to mystify me. I +want to know what they meant. I intend to find out what they meant. If +you have any suspicion, tell it out." + +"Well, Master Clint," he said gravely, "I don't blame you for being +angry." + +"Or being puzzled, either?" I put in. + +"No, sir; nor for being puzzled. And I'm some puzzled myself. But I +reckon Paul Downes was jest repeatin' what he'd heard his father say." + +"That my poor father had to jump overboard from his dory, to save +himself from trouble and mother and I from poverty? Why, it's +preposterous!" I cried. + +"So it is, sir," Ham assured me. "So it is. And nobody believes +it--nobody that's got anything inside their heads but sawdust." + +I started and grasped him by the arm. "Do you mean," I said, "that there +_was_ any such story told when my father was lost at sea?" + +"Well, sir, you know that an oak-ball will smoke when you bust it atwixt +your fingers--but there ain't no fire in it," grunted Ham, +philosophically. "Folk says that there can't be smoke without some fire. +The oak-ball disproves it. And it's so with gossip. Gossip is the only +thing that don't really need a beginning. It's hatched without the sign +of an egg----" + +"Oh, hang your platitudes, Ham!" I cried. "Do you mean that there ever +_was_ such a story circulated?" + +"Well, sir----" + +"There was!" I cried, horrified. + +"It come about in this way," began Ham, calmly and quietly. And his +speaking so soon brought me to a calmer mind. "It was your grandfather's +will. I don't wish to say aught against the dead, sir," said Ham, "but +if ever there was a cantankerous old curmudgeon on the face of this +footstool, it was Simon Darringford! That was your grandfather." + +"I know," said I, nodding. "He did not like my father." + +"He hated him. He made his will so that your mother, his only living +child, should not enjoy the property as long as your father lived--nor +you, either. That's a fact, Master Clint. Ye see, he put the money jest +beyond your mother's reach, and beyond your reach. He done it very +skillfully. He had the best attorneys in Massachusetts draw the will. +The courts wouldn't break it. You and your mother was doomed to poverty +as long as your father lived." + +"But Ham!" I cried in amazement and pain, "couldn't my father earn money +enough to support us?" + +"Not properly, sir," said Ham, in a low voice. "Not as your mother had +been used to living. Don't forget that. The Doctor was as fine a man as +ever stepped; but he wasn't a money-maker. He knowed more than any ten +doctors in this county--old Doc Eldridge is a fool to him. But your +father was easy, and he served the poor for nothing. He had ten +non-paying patients to one that paid. And he was heavily in debt, and +his debts were pressing, when he--he died." + +"Ham!" I cried, leaping up again. "You--you believe there is some truth +in the story Paul hinted at?" + +"Naw, I don't!" returned the coachman, promptly. "But I tell you that +there was a chance for busy-bodies to put this and that together and +make out a case of suicide. His death, my poor boy, _did_ make you and +your mother wealthy--which you'd never been, in all probability, as long +as your poor father remained alive." + +I heard him with pain and with a deeper understanding of the reason for +my mother's seizure that evening. My blurting out the statement that +Paul had uttered when he was angry had undoubtedly shocked my mother +terribly. She had heard these whispers years before--when my father's +death was still an awful reality to her. What occurred in our drawing +room that evening had brought that time of trial and sorrow back to her +mind, and had resulted in the attack I have recounted. I understood it +all then--or I thought I did--and I left Ham and finally sought my bed, +determined more than ever to keep Chester Downes and his son out of the +house and make it impossible in the future for them to cause any further +trouble or misunderstanding between my mother and myself. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +IN WHICH IS RELATED A CONVERSATION WITH MY MOTHER + + +Mother was better in the morning. I ascertained that fact from James, +the butler. Marie, the Frenchwoman, seemed desirous of telling me +nothing and--I thought--wished to keep me out of my mother's room. + +But I hung about the house all the morning and, after the doctor had +come and gone (and this time, I was glad to see, with a more cheerful +face) I insisted on pushing into the room and speaking to mother myself. + +Marie tossed her head and shrugged her shoulders when I insisted. "La, +la!" she exclaimed, in her French way, "boys are so troublesome. Yes!" + +Had it been any other servant, I should have said something sharp to +her, in my newly acquired confidence. But she was mother's maid, and it +was no business of mine if she was impertinent. + +"Well, mother," I said, sitting down beside the bed and taking the hand +she put out to me, "I hope you are better--the doctor says you are--and +I hope you will forgive me for my part in the disgraceful scene we had +down stairs last night. But I couldn't stand those Downeses any more and +that's a fact!" + +"Oh, Clinton! My dear boy! you are so impulsive and tempestuous," she +murmured. + +"I'll try to be as meek as Moses--a regular pussy cat around the house, +hereafter," I returned, cheerfully. + +"You are just like your father," she sighed. + +"I'm proud to hear you say it," I returned, promptly. "For all I have +ever heard about my father--save the hints that those two scoundrels +have dropped--makes me believe that father was a man worthy of copying +in every particular." + +Mother squeezed my hand convulsively, exclaiming: + +"Clinton! Clinton! You must not say such things." + +"Pray tell me why not, mother?" I demanded, but I spoke quietly. "I +won't say a word about Mr. Chester Downes and Paul, if it hurts your +feelings for me to tell the truth about them. But I am bound to be +angry if anybody maligns my father's memory." + +"Oh, Chester would never do such a thing," mother gasped. + +"Then, where did Paul pick up that old scandal to throw at me?" I +demanded. + +"What old scandal do you mean, Clinton?" she asked, faintly. + +"Are you sure you wish to talk about it now, mother?" I asked, for I was +troubled by what the doctor had said the night before. + +"Better now than at any other time," she said, with some decision. "I +suppose poor Paul heard some of the servants, or other people like that, +repeating the story. Oh, Clinton! it almost broke my heart at the time. +That anybody should think your father would contemplate taking his own +life--it was awful. Of course, you do not remember." + +"Well--hardly!" I exclaimed. But I was troubled again by the manner in +which she spoke of Paul Downes. Hanged if she wasn't excusing my cousin! + +"It was a very wretched time for me," said my mother, weakly. "I really +do not know what I would have done had it not been for Chester. He came +immediately, and he took charge of everything. I can never forget his +kindness." + +A sudden thought struck me, and I could not help putting the suspicion +to the test. "Mother," I asked, "was father and Mr. Chester Downes very +good friends?" + +She looked startled again for an instant. I saw her smooth cheek flush +and then turn pale again. My mother blushed as easily as any girl of +fifteen. + +"Why, Clinton, that is a strange question," she said. + +"Not very strange, mother, when you consider that I believe my father +was a mighty good pattern for his son to copy. If father trusted Mr. +Chester Downes, I could be almost tempted to believe that I had injured +that gentleman in my thoughts." + +"You have, Clinton! you have!" she cried. + +"I don't doubt you believe so mother," I said, quietly. "But how about +father? What was _his_ opinion of Aunt Alice's husband?" + +"Why--you see, Clinton," she returned slowly and doubtfully, "Doctor +Webb was not very well acquainted with Chester." + +"No?" + +"He never came much to our house while the doctor was alive." + +"And why not?" I asked. + +"That--that would be hard to say," she said; but she was so confused +that I felt that my mother, who was the soul of truth, found it hard to +answer my question honestly. + +"Well, I should have been glad of my father's opinion, at least," I +said. "As it is," I added, "not having that to guide me, I must stick to +my own." + +"But you have mine, Clinton!" she cried. + +"Indeed, I have!" I returned, smiling, "and I'd take it upon almost any +other subject you could name, Mumsie! But you are prejudiced in favor of +Mr. Downes." + +"And you are prejudiced against him." + +"I am, indeed," I admitted. "And am so prejudiced that I do not mean he +shall ever interfere in my affairs again." + +"Oh, Clinton!" she cried, "I do not see how you can speak so to me." + +"Now, mother dear," I said, "I do not mean to be unfilial to you, or +ungrateful for your kindness. But Paul Downes tried to stab me last +night----" + +"Oh!" she cried, and shrank and trembled. + +"I hate to annoy you by bringing up such things, but I must show you +that they cannot hang around here any more," I declared, firmly. "Paul +hates me; his father has done his best to poison your mind against me. I +have been in danger of my life, and in danger of losing your love and +trust, through the Downeses----" + +"No, no!" she said, to this last. + +"I am afraid I am right," I said. "I know that I have kept away from the +house a good deal this summer. I couldn't stay here and listen to that +false man and be annoyed by that great, hulking boy of his. Now, let us +be the good friends we always have been when the Downeses are at a +distance." + +"Oh, Clinton! my dear boy! I only live for you!" she cried, and began to +sob so that I felt condemned to insist. But the occasion was serious. I +knew--as Ham had warned me--that Chester Downes was lingering near and +would soon attempt to see my mother again. + +"Then, let us be more to each other, mother," I said, quietly. + +"But I need your uncle to assist me," she said. "He can manage my +business much better than I possibly can----" + +"What's the matter with Mr. Hounsditch?" I demanded. "He was our lawyer +and had been grandfather's lawyer, too." + +"Mr. Hounsditch is an old man. He is behind the times. He cannot invest +our money to such good advantage----" + +"_Who says so?_" I asked, and she could not answer the pointed question +without admitting what I had supposed--that Mr. Chester Downes put these +opinions of the keen old lawyer into mother's head. + +"I don't care much about the money, mother," I said. "I suppose we have +plenty anyway, and the real estate cannot be sold at all till I am of +age. But what property does come to me when I'm twenty-one, I'd rather +not have Mr. Chester Downes handle. I'd rather trust to Mr. Hounsditch +and accept small interest." + +"Clinton! you are really ridiculous," cried mother, reddening again. + +"Well, that's all right," I returned, laughing. "But you'll hear to me, +mother, won't you? You won't bother about Chester Downes and Paul? Put +it down that I am jealous of the influence they have over you, if you +like. I don't care. Just let's you and I live together and be happy." + +"That's all I live for--to make you happy, Clinton," said my mother, +still sobbing like a child who has been injured. + +"Then this request I make will be the only thing I'll ask you to do for +me for a year, Mumsie!" I cried, calling her by the pet name I had used +when I was a little fellow. + +"Will it really make you so happy, my boy?" she asked, wistfully. + +"Indeed it will," I declared. "And now I've bothered you long enough. +I'll be around here if you want me. I shan't go out on the water today, +or until you feel quite yourself again." + +I went out of her room. Marie, the Frenchwoman, was just coming up the +stairs. I saw her hide her hand with something in it under her apron. It +was a square white object. I knew it was a letter. Mr. Chester Downes +had been writing to my mother, and Marie was the go-between. She smiled, +slyly, as she passed me and whisked into the room I had just left. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +IN WHICH I PUT TWO AND TWO TOGETHER--AND SLEEP ABOARD THE WAVECREST + + +If for no other reason, that sly smile of my mother's French maid would +have kept me at home that day. I was still strolling about the place, +just before luncheon, when I saw Mr. Chester Downes' spare figure and +his tall hat coming up the hill. I went down the path and met him at the +steps which mounted the little terrace from the street to our lawn. + +"Oh!" he ejaculated. "Are _you_ here?" + +"You are just in time to catch me as I was going out, Mr. Downes," I +said. "What have you to say to me, sir?" + +"Nothing, young man--nothing," he exclaimed. + +"You certainly have not walked over here merely for the pleasure of +looking at the house," I said, smartly. + +"I have come to see your mother, sir. And I propose to see her," he +said. "Last night I did not wish to make a disturbance while she was so +ill. But I understand from Dr. Eldridge that she is much improved----" + +"You are correct there, Mr. Downes," I said. "And she will continue to +improve I hope. But whether she is well or ill, you cannot see her." + +"Nonsense, boy! you are crazy. Do you know that I am a man, your uncle, +and your mother's business agent? Bold as you are, sir, you are a +minor." + +"I never wanted to wish my life away before, sir," I said, gravely. "But +I do sincerely wish that I was of age, Mr. Downes. However, I believe I +shall be able to hold my own with you, sir. At least, I shall try. And +if this is to be your course I shall know what to do. Before you get +into that house to trouble my mother again, I'll place a guard around +it." + +"You talk ridiculously. You cannot do such a thing." + +"No, perhaps not. And fortunately, I shan't have to take such extreme +measures. I have a better way of keeping you off the premises." + +"You would not dare do what you threatened last night, Clinton Webb," he +said, his voice shaking with anger. + +"You pass me and go up to that door, and see whether I dare or not," I +returned, my eyes flashing. "Paul tried to stab me. I'll have him +arrested if he is in Bolderhead still, and if he has run away I'll find +means of having him brought back here to stand trial." + +I was just as earnest as ever I was about anything in my life, and I +guess Mr. Chester Downes realized it. He had gone away the night before +in haste; but after thinking over the situation he believed that I could +be browbeaten and my will set aside. He stared at me, with his dark, +Indian-looking face reddening under the skin, and Paul had not looked at +me more murderously the night before when we quarreled aboard the +Wavecrest, than his father did now! + +"Why, sir," said Mr. Downes at last, "this is a most ridiculous thing +for you to do. I can write to your mother--and I shall. She will demand +that I attend her----" + +"Until she does so, just take notice that you're not to come here," I +interrupted. "That is, if you want Paul to stay out of jail." + +I turned on my heel then and walked back to the house, and he--after +hesitating a half minute or so--turned likewise and stalked down the +hill. I was pretty sure he would not come back--not in that tall hat, +anyway--for before luncheon was over it had begun to rain and rained +hard. There was a sharp wind from the northwest--nor'--nor'--west, to be +exact--and everybody within a hundred miles of Cape Ann knows what that +means. In all probability we were in for a long offshore gale. + +So I risked going over the ferry that afternoon on an errand. I did not +propose to get caught out on the Wavecrest again without provisions, +and I purchased half a boat load of canned goods and the like, and a +couple of cases of spring water. While I was hunting for a boat and a +man to take my purchases aboard the sloop I ran against my cousin Paul. + +He was not alone, and the instant I spied him with two hang-dog fellows, +I knew he was--like the hen in the story--"laying for me!" Paul Downes +knew half the riff-raff of Bolderhead which, like most small seaports, +boasted more than a sufficient quantity of wharf-rats. Mr. Downes had +been wont to expatiate to my mother on my taste for low company; but he +must have had his own son in mind. Paul certainly picked sour fruit when +he made friends along the water-front of Bolderhead! + +"That's the feller," snarled my cousin--I could read his lips, although +the trio was across the narrow street as I went along the docks--and I +knew very well that he was hatching something against me with his two +friends. + +But they were not likely to pitch upon me here in broad daylight, so I +paid them little heed at the moment. I found old Crab Bolster and his +skiff to lighter my cargo across the inlet, and when the boy came down +from the store with the barrow, Crab and I loaded the provisions and +spring water into his boat. Paul and his companions looked on, +whispering together now and then, from a neighboring wharf. + +I was not wholly a fool if I _was_ so well satisfied with my own +smartness. My success in settling Mr. Chester Downes had of course given +me an inflated opinion of myself; but I knew better than to overlook the +possibility of my cousin being able to do me some mean trick, especially +with the help of the two fellows he was with. + +When Crab Bolster and I set off in the skiff for the Wavecrest, I saw +Paul and his friends make for the ferry, and while I helped pull the +skiff in the drizzle of rain that swept across the harbor, I saw the +three board the ferryboat and land at the dock on the Neck near which we +lived. + +I made Crab hustle the goods aboard and stowed all away in the cuddy +before I let the boatman put me ashore. Paul and his friends were +hanging about the landing. + +"Keep your eye on my Wavecrest, will you, Lampton?" I said to the man +who owned the landing, and kept boats for hire. "Remember, nobody's to +go aboard of the sloop without my special permission," and I glanced +pointedly at my cousin. + +"I'll see to that, sir," said Lampton, who was my friend, I knew. "And +in this weather, and with the wind the way she is, anybody would be +crazy to want to take a boat out through the breach." + +I went back to the house in ample time for dinner, and Ham, who had been +on the watch, reported that my uncle had not again tried to enter the +house. But I was worried about Paul and his henchmen. I couldn't rest in +the house after dark. If they couldn't get a boat on the Neck side of +the harbor in which to go out to the Wavecrest, they might come across +from the town side and do her some damage. + +Mother had come down to dinner and we had one of our old-fashioned, +homey meals, followed by a pleasant hour in the drawing-room, where she +played and sang for me. It was her pleasure that I should dress for +dinner just as though company was to be present, and she trained me in +the niceties of life, and in bits of etiquette, for which I have often, +in later times, been very thankful. For although I found my amusement in +rough adventure and my companionship for the most part among seamen and +fishermen, it hurts no boy or man to be as well grounded in the tenets +of polite society as in writing, reading, and arithmetic! + +The subject that was uppermost in my mind--that hazy mystery surrounding +my father's death--did not come up between us on this evening. Nor did +the unpleasant topic of the Downeses come to the fore. I am very, very +glad to remember that my mother looked her prettiest, that she gave me +the tenderest of kisses when she bade me goodnight early, and that we +parted very lovingly. + +I went up to my room, but only to put on a warmer suit--a fishing suit +in fact. I shrugged myself into oilskin pants and jacket, too, in the +back shed, and exchanged my cap for a sou'wester. Then I sallied forth +through a pelting rain, with the gale whistling a sharp tune behind me, +and descended the hill toward the point off which the Wavecrest was +moored. + +I had said nothing to anybody about my intention. I do not think that +any of the servants saw me go. I left my home without any particular +thought of the future, or any serious cogitation as to what would be the +result of my act. + +Merely, I had put two and two together in my mind--and I would sleep +aboard the Wavecrest. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +IN WHICH AN EXPECTED COMEDY PROVES TO BE A TRAGEDY + + +I knew well enough that my cousin, Paul Downes, was too thoroughly +scared by my threat to have him arrested for assault, to openly make an +attack upon either my boat or myself. But his money could bribe such +fellows as I had seen him with that very day, to sink the Wavecrest, +or even to assault me in the dark. + +It would be a joke on Paul--so I thought--if he or his friends should +sneak out to the sloop where she was moored, intending to do her some +harm, and find me there all ready for such a visitation. I chuckled to +myself while I wended my way to the shore, carrying a single oar with +me, and unlocked the padlock of the chain which fastened my rowboat to +the landing. + +There was nobody about, and I pushed out and sculled over to the +Wavecrest without being interfered with. Had I not known so well just +where the sloop lay I declare I would have had trouble in finding her. +It was the darkest kind of a night and it _did_ blow great guns! The +rain pelted as sharp as hail and before I got half way to the sloop I +decided that I wasn't showing very good sense, after all, in coming out +here on such a night. I didn't think Paul and his friends would venture +forth in such a storm. + +However, having once set out to do a thing I have usually run the full +course. I am not sure that it is natural perseverance in my case, but +fear that I am more often ashamed to be considered fickle. So I sculled +on to the Wavecrest and prepared to go aboard. + +But just here I bethought me that if my cousin should attempt to board +the sloop he would be warned that I was aboard by the presence of the +tender. Therefore I snubbed the nose of the rowboat up short to the +float, and then, after getting into the bows of the Wavecrest I let go +her cable and paid out several yards so that the float and the tender +were both out of sight in the darkness. + +I chuckled then, as I crept aft to the cockpit and unlocked the door of +the little cabin. Once inside, out of the rain, I drew curtains before +all the lights and then lit the lamp over the cabin table. There were +four berths, two on each side, with lockers fore and aft. Altogether the +cabin of the Wavecrest was cozy and not a bad place at all in which to +spend a night. + +It was still early in the evening. The tide had not long since turned +and was running out, while the wind out of its present quarter was with +the tide. Any craft could sail out of Bolderhead harbor this night with +both gale and sea in its favor; but heaven help the vessel striving to +beat into the inlet! The reefs and ledges along this coast are as +dangerous as any down on the charts. + +The Wavecrest pitched a good bit at the end of her cable. I made up my +bed and arranged the lamp in its gimbals near the head of the berth, and +so took off my outer clothing and lay down to read. I did not think that +the lamplight could be seen from without, even if a boat came quite near +me. Being so far in-shore I had lit no riding light. It was unnecessary +at these moorings. + +I did not read for long. Used to the swing of the sea as I had been for +years the bucking of the Wavecrest as she tugged at her cable, put me +to sleep before I had any idea that I was sleepy. And my lamp was left +burning. + +I do not know how long I was unconscious--at least, I did not know at +the moment of my awakening; but suddenly something bumped against the +sloop's counter. I thought when I opened my eyes: + +"Here they are! Now for some fun." + +I supposed they would not have seen my light and I was going to put my +head out of the cabin and scare them before they could do the +Wavecrest any harm. + +But as it proved, the bumping of the small boat against the sloop did +not announce the arrival of the enemy. Almost instantly--I had not got +into my trousers, indeed--there came a great hammering at the cabin +door. + +I did not speak, although at first I supposed the rascals were knocking +to arouse me. Then it shot across my bewildered mind that somebody was +nailing up the cabin door! + +"Hello there! stop that!" I bawled, getting interested in the +proceedings right away. + +But there was no answer, unless certain whisperings that I could not +understand could be considered as such. Several long nails--twenty-penny, +I was sure--were driven home. Then there was a clattering of boots and +the small boat bumped the sloop's counter again. + +They were getting into their own boat. They had left me in a nice +fix--nailed up tightly in the cabin of my boat. I was mad 'way through; +instead of playing any joke on Paul Downes and his friends, they had +played me a most scurvy trick. + +But it was only comedy as yet--comedy for them, at least. I was pretty +sure that they had fixed me in the cabin, not only for the night, but +until somebody passing in a boat would see me signalling from the tiny +deadlights. And goodness only knew when the gale would subside enough to +tempt any other boatman out upon the bay. + +The sloop was still pitching at the end of her cable. I could feel the +tug of the moorings as my enemies got into their boat. Then--in half a +minute, perhaps--there was a startling change in the sloop's action. She +leaped like a horse struck with a whip and instantly began to roll and +swing broadside to the gale. + +I knew at once what had happened. The cable had parted; the Wavecrest +was adrift! + +The discovery alarmed me beyond all measure. I was panic-stricken--I +admit it. And I earnestly believe that almost any other person who had a +love of life within them would have felt the same. + +For to be adrift in Bolderhead Harbor on such a night, with the wind +and tide urging one's craft out toward the broad ocean, while one was +nailed up in the cabin and unable to do a thing toward guiding the boat, +was a situation to shake the courage of the bravest sailor who ever was +afloat. + +I believed I had nobody but myself to thank for the accident. In letting +out the cable by which the sloop was moored, I had increased the strain +upon it. I should have thrown out a stern anchor as well when I came +aboard the Wavecrest to spend the night. The tug of wind and tide had +been too much for the single cable. + +And now my bonnie Wavecrest was swinging about, broadside to the sea, +and likely to be rolled over completely in a moment. If she turned +turtle, what would become of me? The air in the cabin was already foul. +If she turned topsyturvy, and providing she was not cast upon the rocks +and smashed, I would be in difficulty for fresh air in a very few hours. + +These possibilities--and many others--passed through my mind in seconds +of time. I had no idea that one's brain could work so rapidly. A hundred +possible happenings, arising from my situation, entered my mind in +those first few moments while the Wavecrest was swinging about. + +Fortunately, however, although she went far over on her beam ends, and I +expected to hear the stick snap, she righted, headed with the tide, and +began to hobble over the seas at a great rate. I had dressed completely +ere this, and was trying my best to open the cabin door. If I could get +to the centerboard and drop it, I believed the sloop would ride better +and could be steered. + +Those rascals had nailed the door securely, however. The slide in the +deck above was fastened on the outside too. I was a prisoner in my own +boat and she was being swept out to sea as fast as a northwest gale and +a heavy tide could carry her. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +IN WHICH I SEE THE DAY DAWN UPON A DESERTED OCEAN + + +I don't claim to possess an atom more courage than the next fellow. I +was heartily scared the instant I realized that the Wavecrest was +adrift and I was fastened into her cabin. But I was not made helpless by +my terror. + +I tried my best to open that cabin door; but the big nails had been +driven home. The ports were too small for my body to pass through, +although I did open one and was tempted to shriek for help. But that +would have been a ridiculous thing to do--and useless, as well. Had +anybody heard and understood my need, I was beyond assistance from land, +and there was nobody out in the harbor but myself, I felt sure. + +The Wavecrest had got well out into the harbor now. She rolled very +little and therefore I knew that, unguided as she was, her head was +right and wind and tide were sweeping her on. She might be piled up on +either shore at the mouth of the inlet; but from the start I believed +she would be shot through the outlet of the harbor into the open sea. + +In the cuddy up forward, with my provisions, there were a saw and +hammer, and other tools. I could no more get at them than I could get +out of the cabin. And although I might be able to do nothing to help +myself or my boat if I was free from my prison, I would have felt a +whole lot safer just then to have been upon her deck! + +The door being nailed so fast, and the deck-hatch bolted tight, it was +plain that I would have to smash something in order to get out of the +cabin. Had I had anything to use as a battering ram, I would have begun +on the door. But there seemed nothing to hand that would help me in that +way. I examined the crack where the top of the door and the deck-hatch +came together. Had I something to pry with I might tear the bolts +holding the hatch out of the wood. + +Such a thing as a bar was out of the question. But after a few minutes' +cogitation, I remembered that my bunks on either side of the cabin could +be turned up against the bulkhead, and at each end of the bunks was a +flat piece of steel fifteen or eighteen inches long which held the +berth-bench when it was let down. Two screws at each end held these +steel straps in place. + +I had no screw driver; but I had the knife that I had taken away from my +cousin when he attacked me the evening before. I thrust the point of its +heavy blade into a crack and snapped the steel square off. It made a +fairly usable screw-driver, and I quickly had one of the steel straps +out of its fastenings. + +The piece of steel was stiff and made as good a bar for prying as I +could have found. With some difficulty I thrust one end up between the +top of the cabin door and the edge of the hatch, close to one side. I +slipped the closed knife up between the bar and the door for a block +against which to prize, caught the end of the bar with both hands, and +threw all my force against it. The hatch squeaked; there was a +splintering sound of wood. I was badly marring the top of the door, but +the bolt which held the hatch at that side was giving. + +I repeated the process at the other side of the hatch, and gradually, by +working first at one side, and then the other, I splintered the woodwork +around the bolts, and bent the bolts themselves, so that the hatch +began to shove back. As soon as possible I shoved it back far enough for +my body to pass through the aperture. + +The rain beat down upon my face as I worked my way out of the cabin in +my oilskins; I left my hat behind. The Wavecrest was pitching and +yawing pretty badly now and before I cast a single glance around I was +sure that she was already going through the inlet. + +Yes! there was the beacon at the extreme point of Bolderhead Neck--it +was just abreast of me as I stood at last upon the sloop's unsteady +deck. I leaped down into the cockpit and quickly lowered the +centerboard. Almost at once the Wavecrest began to ride more evenly. I +could see little but the beacon, the night was so black; but I ran to +the tiller and found that the sloop was under good steerage way and +answered her helm nicely. + +Like all sloops, the Wavecrest was very broad of beam for her depth of +keel, and the standing-room, or cockpit, was roomy. She was well rigged, +too, having a staysail and gafftopsail. Really, to sail her properly +there should have been a crew of two aboard; but under the present +circumstances I felt that one person aboard the Wavecrest was one too +many! With a rising gale behind her the craft was being driven to sea at +express speed, and it was utterly impossible to retard her course. + +For an hour I sat there in the driving rain, hatless and shivering, +hanging to the tiller and letting the sloop drive. Letting her drive! +why, there wasn't a thing I could do to change her course. She was +rushing on through the foaming seas like a projectile shot from some +huge gun, and every moment the howling wind seemed to increase! + +The beacon on the Neck was behind me now. There was nothing ahead of the +sloop's fixed bowsprit. We were driving into a curtain of blackness that +had been let down from the sky to the sea. It is seldom that there is +not some little light playing over the surface of the water. This night +a palpable cloud had settled upon the face of the waters and I could not +even see the foam on the crests of the waves, save where they ran past +the sloop's freeboard. + +I had left the broken slide open, however, and the rain was beating down +into the cabin. This began to worry me and finally I lashed the +tiller--fastening it in the bights of two ropes prepared for that +purpose, and crept back into the cabin again. It was little use to +remain outside, save that if the sloop was flung upon a rock, I might +have a little better chance to escape. + +At the speed she was traveling, however, I knew very well that we were +already beyond the reefs and little islets that mask the entrance to +Bolderhead Harbor. It was a veritable hurricane behind us. The wind was +actually blowing so hard that the waves were scarcely of medium height. +I had seen a mere afternoon squall kick up a heavier sea. + +It was awkward getting in and out of the cabin by way of the hatch; but +I did not take the time then to open the door. I fixed the hatch so that +it would slide back and forth properly, however. Then I lit my spirit +lamp and made some coffee. I was pretty well chilled through, for the +rain and wind seemed to penetrate to the very marrow of my bones. + +I was sure that this was the beginning of the equinoctial gale. It might +be a week before the storm would break. And where would the Wavecrest +be in a week's time? + +Not that I really believed the sloop would hold together, or still be on +top of the sea, when this gale blew itself out. She was a mere speck on +the agitated surface of the sea. My only hope then was that I might be +rescued by some larger vessel--and how I should get from the Wavecrest +craft to another was beyond the power of my imaginings. + +I could not be content to remain below--nor was that unnatural. Aside +from the fear I had of the sloop's yawing and possibly turning turtle, +and so imprisoning me in the cabin with no hope of escape therefrom, I +felt that I should be more on the alert to seize any opportunity for +escape were I at the tiller. So I carried a Mexican poncho which I wound +to the stern, draped it about me over the oilskins, and with the +sou'wester tied under my chin I could defy the rain, nor did the keen +wind search my vitals. + +But thus bundled up I would have stood little show had the sloop +capsized. Afterward I realized that I might as well have remained in the +cabin. + +However, to sleep in either place, was impossible. Sometimes the rain +beat down upon the decked over portion of the boat with the sound of a +drumstick beaten upon taut calfskin. Again the wind blew in such sharp +gusts that the rain seemed to be swept over the face of the sea and +then, if I chanced to glance over my shoulder, the drops stung like +hail. + +Altogether I have never passed a more uncomfortable night--perhaps never +one during which I was in greater peril. The wind was shifting bit by +bit, too. My compass told me that the Wavecrest was now being driven +straight out to sea, instead of running parallel with the Massachusetts +coast as had been at first the fact. + +How fast I was traveling I could not guess. There was a patent log +aboard; but I did not rig it. Indeed, it was much safer to remain in the +stern of the sloop than to move about at all. I knew we were traveling +much faster than I had ever traveled by water before and I had something +beside the speed of my involuntary voyage to think about. + +It had not crossed my mind at the time, but when I had slipped out to +the Wavecrest that evening, giving my mother and the servants the +impression that I had gone to my room as usual, I had done a very +foolish--if not wrong--thing. The sloop might not be the only craft in +Bolderhead Harbor to break away from moorings and go on an involuntary +cruise. Other wandering craft might not escape the rocks about the +beach, as the Wavecrest had. It might be supposed that my sloop was +among the wreckage that would be cast ashore along our rocky coast, and +my absence might not be connected with the disappearance of the sloop. + +My mother and friends would not suspect the reason or cause for my +absence. If I had taken a soul into my confidence, in the morning my +mother would be informed immediately of my accident. Perhaps, after all, +it was not a bad thing that some uncertainty must of necessity attach +itself to my disappearance. + +For although I had every reason to believe that Paul Downes had either +nailed me into the cabin, or caused me to be nailed in, well knowing +that I had gone aboard the sloop to sleep, I was equally confident that +he would not tell of what he had done, or allow his companions to tell +of the trick, either. + +These, and similar hazy thoughts regarding my condition, shuttled back +and forth through my brain during the long and anxious hours of that +never-to-be-forgotten night. Sometimes, I presume, I lost myself and +slept for a few minutes; but the hours dragged on so dismally, and I was +so uncomfortable and anxious, that I am sure I could not have slept +much of the time. And it did seem as though the east would never lighten +for dawn. + +At last it came, however; and then I liked the prospect less than the no +prospect of the black night! All that it revealed to my aching eyes was +a vast, vast expanse of empty, heaving drab sea, across which the gale +hurried sheets of cold and biting rain--not a sign of land behind +me--not a sail against the equally drab horizon. My sloop, under her +bare, writhing pole, was scudding across this deserted ocean with no +haven in sight and I was without hope of rescue. + + + + +CHAPTER X + +IN WHICH I FIND A MOST REMARKABLE HAVEN + + +With the coming of daylight I would have tried to get some canvas on the +Wavecrest--if only a rag of jib--had the gale not been so terrific. I +doubted if, under a pocket-handkerchief of sail, I could have got her +head around without swamping her. + +And then, what better off would I have been? I could have made no +progress beating against such a wind and it was better and safer to ride +before it, no matter where I was blown. There was no land ahead of me +save the shores of Spain--and Spain was a long way off. + +At least, it was better to run while the sea remained in its present +condition. As I have said, the waves were beaten flat by the savage +wind. But, if there should come a lull in that, I knew well enough the +sea would instantly leap into billows that would soon founder the little +sloop if she could neither be got around to ride them, or could not +keep ahead of them. + +I lashed the tiller again--as I had twice during the night--and went +below for coffee. I brought back some pilot crackers and a can of +peaches that was among the stores I had bought in town the day before, +and made a fairly satisfactory breakfast of the hard bread and fruit +with a pint can of coffee. But I would not remain below any length of +time now. It looked very much to me as though the clouds might break and +the wind shift, or lull, at any moment. + +Several hours passed, however, and my watch (which I had not forgotten +to wind) told me that it was fast approaching noon before any change +came. Then the shrieking gale dropped suddenly and the gusts of rain +ceased. + +I leaped up at once to unfurl the jib. With a little canvas on her I +believed the sloop could be wore 'round and headed into the wind before +the waves sprang up. Perhaps it would have been wiser to have given her +a hand's breath of the mainsail. However, before the bit of canvas +bellied out and I had dashed back to the helm, the first wave broke over +the stern of the sloop. + +It was a deluge! I was waist deep in the foaming flood; the cockpit was +full; the sloop had already shipped about all the water that was good +for her, and it was plain she was too water-logged to answer the helm +promptly. + +Up came a second wave. The lulling of the wind gave the waves a chance +to gather force and height. This one curled fairly over my head and, +looking up and over my shoulder at the great, green, foam-streaked wall +of water, I thought my last minute above the surface had come! + +It broke. I can remember nothing at all of the ensuing few moments. I +only know that I was smothered, drowned, completely overwhelmed by the +deluge of water that came inboard. The force of it burst open the slide +of the hatch and barrels of water flooded into the cabin. The +Wavecrest settled. If another wave as great had come inboard directly +in the wake of this one, I am convinced that I would not be writing this +record of my life. + +As the wave passed on, the keen whistle of the gale returned. I leaped +up and staggered forward. I knew that unless I could get way upon the +sodden craft she would very quickly plunge beneath the surface. I shook +out the staysail as well as the jib, but dared not spread too much +canvas to the wind which seemed about to swoop down again. These sails +filled and the Wavecrest showed her mettle, sodden as she was with the +enormous amount of water that had come inboard. + +There was a deal of water awash in the cockpit; therefore the shallow +hold must have been full. And I knew there was plenty slopping about in +the cabin, ruining everything. I rigged the little pump amidships and +the pipe threw a full stream of bilge across the deck. And it wasn't +bilge long, but came clear. Inboard came another wave--but not a large +one this time--and I pumped harder than ever. + +The Wavecrest was lumbering on too slowly to escape the following +waves. In her then condition it would have been folly to seek to head +her about. She would have rolled helplessly in the trough of the sea as +sure as I tried it. But if she was going to sail before this wind and +sea she must sail faster. + +The gale was steadily increasing again, but it did not blow as hard as +it had during the night and early morning. I ventured a little more +canvas and although the mast and rigging strained loudly, nothing got +away. The speed of the sloop was increased, especially so as I kept at +the pump and got the hold clear. + +Although the hungry billows still followed the Wavecrest little water +came inboard for a time save the spindrift whipped from the crests of +the waves. But with a sea running so high there was danger of swamping +every moment. I dared not leave the helm for long; to go below at all +was out of the question. I went without food all that day, thankful that +I had managed to make a fairly hearty breakfast. + +And all the time the wind blew steadily, the sea strove mightily, and +the sloop scudded before both like a whipped pup. I would not like to +say how fast she traveled, for I do not know; I was only certain that +even in a racing wind I had never sailed so fast before. + +I had become wet through to the bone. Neither the poncho nor the +oilskins could keep me dry when the sea had broken over the sloop. And +the wind was keen and searched me through and through. My teeth were +a-chatter, the cold pricked me like needles, and I was altogether very +miserable indeed. Often had I been soaked to the skin while on a fishing +venture; but there was the prospect of a hot drink and a warm fire +ahead of me. There was nothing in the line of comfort before me now. The +sea remained untenanted and the Wavecrest drove on as though she were +enchanted. + +Hour after hour dragged by. The sun did not appear; indeed, rain-gusts +swept now and then across the sea. The waves were so steep that when the +sloop plunged down the slope of one the rain swept on over my head and +only rattled upon my sail. Ragged masses of cloud swept across the sky. +In the distance it really seemed as though the waves leaped up and met +these low-hung clouds. + +And how I strained my eyes for some speck to give me hope of rescue! + +From the summit of almost every wave I stood up and gazed about +me--especially ahead. Behind were only the ravenous waves seeking to +overtake and swamp me. Ahead I hoped to see the vapor of some steamer, +or, at least, the bare poles of a sailing vessel that could rescue me +from my perilous situation. + +I dreaded another night. Indeed, I did not see how I could sail the +Wavecrest until morning without either food or sleep. To lash the +tiller and let the sloop drive on was too reckless a course to even +contemplate. + +A man lost in a forest, or on a desert, may be lonely; but a voyager +alone on the trackless and empty ocean is in far worse condition, +believe me! Not only is he lost, but the elements themselves are +continually buffeting him. In all this dreary day there was not a second +in which my life was not threatened. + +Finally when I knew there could not be many hours more of daylight, upon +rising to the summit of a great billow, I beheld something riding the +seas not far ahead. For some reason I had not seen the bulk of this +strange apparition before and at first I was sure it was the +turtle-turned hulk of a wreck. + +But as the Wavecrest sped on, bringing me nearer and nearer to the +object, I saw that I must be wrong. It was not shaped like a ship's hull +although it was black and clumsy enough. But immediately about it the +waves seemed to be calm. At least no waves broke and foamed about the +floating mass. + +I watched the thing eagerly, although I could not hope for rescue under +such a guise. It was not, I was almost instantly sure, a vessel of any +kind; as the Wavecrest kept on her course, which brought me directly +upon the object, I was not long at a loss to identify it. + +Although I had seldom been far out of sight of land myself, and had +never seen any ocean creature bigger than a blackfish (not the tautog, +but the pilot-whale) I had listened to the stories of old whalemen along +the Bolderhead docks, and I was pretty sure that I had sighted one of +those great mammals--a creature of the sea which is no more a fish than +a horse or a cow is a fish, yet is the greatest wonder of marine life. + +Beside, the peculiar condition of the sea immediately about the object +revealed its identity. The whale was dead, I was sure. Otherwise it +would not have been at the surface so long in such a gale. And being +dead, and the seabirds and shark-fish having got at its carcass before +the storm, there was good reason for the waves not breaking over it. + +The dead whale lay in a slick, or "sleep," as some old whalemen +pronounce the word, and hope revived in my troubled mind the instant I +realized what the object was, and its condition. The waves were +following me as hungrily as ever; at any moment the sloop might be +overwhelmed. But once let me get the Wavecrest in the lee of this dead +whale, I could bid defiance to the storm. There I could outride the +gale and, when it was fair again, set the sloop's nose toward the +distant mainland. + +With rare good fortune the sloop needed little guidance to reach the +dead whale. My original course had been aimed for the huge beast. As the +Wavecrest gained upon it the monster was revealed, lying partly on its +side, all of fifty feet from tail to nose. Of course there were no +seabirds upon the carcass now, nor did I see the triangular fin of a +shark anywhere about. They had ripped and torn at the carcass +sufficiently, however, to release copiously the oil from the casing of +blubber, or fat, with which the whale is entirely covered. + +My Wavecrest bore down upon the becalmed circle and suddenly I found +the waves heaving smoothly under the sloop instead of breaking all about +her. I ran to the canvas and stowed it quickly, then brought the sloop +around into the lee of the huge bulk of the whale. I had a +broken-shanked harpoon and a boathook. I plunged these both into the +carcass and then attached the Wavecrest, bows and stern, to these +strange mooring-posts. + +There she was, as safe as though we were in a landlocked harbor, rising +and falling with a motion by no means unpleasant. The exuding oil made +a charmed circle about the sloop, into which the agencies of the gale +could not venture. The wind wailed as madly across the sea, and the sea +itself, at a little distance, tumbled, and burst in a most chaotic +manner; but here in the slick I lay at peace--and grateful indeed I was +for this remarkable haven. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +IN WHICH I AM A TERRIFIED WITNESS OF A WONDERFUL PHENOMENON + + +Evening was dropping down and I was woefully hungry. Being sure that the +Wavecrest was safely moored to the body of the dead leviathan, I set +about correcting the need which preyed upon me. I was thankful, indeed, +that I had stocked my larder so well on that last day at Bolderhead. +There was plenty of water, too. I could ride out a week's storm here +beside the whale I was very sure, and then have plenty of provisions to +serve me until I could beat back to the mainland. + +I got out my lanterns, filled and trimmed them, and cutting steps in the +side of the whale with the boat-hatchet, I mounted to the top of the +great body and there stuck my oar upright in the blubber and hung a +lantern to it. I was pretty sure that no vessel would pass that signal +light without investigating, even in the gale. + +I made a very comfortable supper indeed. I managed now to force the +cabin door and closed the sliding hatch. Then I warmed the cabin well +with the spirit stove, stripped off my wet clothes, and got into dry +garments. I went out on deck at nine o'clock, saw that my moorings were +fast and the lanterns burning brightly, and then turned in. After the +uncertainties of the day and the lack of sleep suffered the night +before, I slept as soundly when I now turned in on one of the bunks as +ever I did in my own bed at home! + +At daybreak--another drab dawning of the new day--I was up and climbed +the whale for the lantern. In its place I left attached to the upright +oar a shirt to flutter in the wind for a signal. I hoped that any vessel +passing near enough to see my signal would stop for me. But of one thing +I was sure: If it chanced that a whaling ship came within sight of the +dead leviathan my peril would soon be over. This huge beast had not been +long dead and it would be all clear gain to any "blubber boiler" that +chanced to pass that way. + +Nor was the possibility of being rescued by a whaleship so slight as it +would have been a few years before. There were for two decades, few +whaling barks put forth from the New England ports; but of late years +there is either a greater demand for whale-oil, or the cachelot (the +sperm whale) is becoming more frequently seen both in northern and +southern seas, and is being hunted both by steam vessels and by the +old-time whaling ships. + +I didn't know where I was--that is, my position in the North Atlantic; +but I believed that I had sailed so far and so fast in the sloop that I +was about midway of the course of the British steam lines running 'twixt +Halifax and the Bermudas. Those two ports are between seven and eight +hundred miles apart, and I suspected I was nearer one or the other than +I was to Boston! I knew I had done some tall sailing since being swept +out of Bolderhead Harbor. + +After having cooked and eaten a hearty breakfast, despite the blowing of +the gale--for dirty weather prevailed and rain swept down in torrents +every hour or two--I set about making such slight repairs as I could +with the tools and materials I had at hand. And while thus engaged I +made a discovery that--to say the least--startled me. + +Dragging over the bows of the Wavecrest was the cable by which she +had been moored in Bolderhead Harbor. I had never chanced to draw it +aboard. Now I did so. It was only a bit, some three or four feet long. +And instead of finding it frayed and broken by the strain of the sloop +as she dragged at her old anchorage, I found that the hemp had been cut +sharply across. Nothing less than a knife--and a sharp one--had severed +that cable when it was taut! + +The appearance of the bit of rope gave me such a jolt that I sat down +and stared at it. I had been quite sure that Paul Downes and his friends +knew I was aboard the Wavecrest when they nailed me into the cabin. +But it really never crossed my mind that they had deliberately cut the +sloop adrift. But here was evidence of the crime. There was no doubting +it. I had been imprisoned on the Wavecrest and then the sloop was sent +on a voyage which Paul and his friends must have realized could end in +nothing less than death. + +It was an awful thought. In sudden and uncontrollable anger my cousin +had attempted to stab me when we had our unfortunate quarrel aboard the +sloop; but this crime was far greater than his former attempt. He had +deliberately planned my death. + +And if Ham Mayberry, or any of my other friends, took the pains to look +at the Wavecrest's mooring cable, they would know that the sloop had +been cut adrift. The evidence lay in both pieces of the cable. + +Perhaps, however, it would not be known--it might never be suspected, +indeed--that I had been swept out to sea in the sloop. The mere fact +that I had left my tender tied to the mooring buoy might not be +understood. Beside, the tender might have been cut adrift, too. Or the +gale might have done much havoc in Bolderhead Inlet. Other craft could +easily have been strewn along the rocky shores, or carried--like the +Wavecrest--out into the open sea. + +The mystery of my disappearance might never be explained--until I +returned home. And when would I get back? I did not like to think of +this. I worried over the effect my disappearance would have upon my +mother's mind. And, while I was absent, Mr. Chester Downes would have +full swing. + +Worried as I was because of my situation, here in the seemingly empty +Atlantic, my greatest anxiety was for my mother. More and more had I +come to fear the evil machinations of Mr. Chester Downes. While I had +been on hand to defend mother from her brother-in-law--and defend her +from her own innocent belief in him, as well!--I was but mildly +disturbed. If worse came to worse, I could always write to Lawyer +Hounsditch whom I believed would never see my mother cheated. + +But now--and God only knew for how long a time--it was beyond my power +to do a single thing toward guarding my mother from Chester Downes. How +I wish I had taken the old attorney of the Darringford Estate into my +confidence before this time! + +These were some of my sad thoughts following the discovery of the +severed cable. I remained in a very, very low state of mind indeed +during that forenoon. The gale did not abate; nothing but the boisterous +sea and the overcast sky could I see about me. Not even a seabird came +to the dead whale. I was alone--stark alone. + +At mid-afternoon, however, I sighted something to the southward. I had +climbed to the top of the whale for a better observation and against the +horizon I beheld a long ribbon of smoke--just a faint streak against the +lighter colored clouds. I knew that a steamer was there; but she was +far, far away, and would never sight the whale, or my fluttering +signal. + +I thought of all manner of curious plans to attract attention to my +plight from a long distance over the sea. Fire was my main thought. I +knew that no vessel--scarcely a mail-carrying steamship--would pass a +fire at sea without investigation. Had I been a modern Munchausen I +might have found some way of drawing a wick through the whale and +setting fire to its blubber! + +As it was, had I been likely to run short of burning fluid I surely +would have endeavored to "try out" some of the blubber. I knew that, +before the day of mineral oil--kerosene--people used whale oil almost +altogether for lamps. But I was fortunately well supplied with oil, +water and food. I might ward off starvation for a month; but I was not +at all sure that I wished to exist so long under the then prevailing +conditions. + +But life is very sweet to us, and I suppose I should have clung to the +last shred of mine had Fate intended me to remain in this abandoned +state so long. This day and another night passed. I went to bed and +slept well. The whale's carcass might roll over and crush my boat, or +some other accident happen to the Wavecrest during my retirement. But +I could do nothing to fend off Fate did I keep awake and had already +made up my mind that I had little to fear. + +As for the whale sinking again, that was impossible. It may have sunk +after being killed; but putrefaction had set in within the carcass and +the gases which had thereby formed would keep the whale afloat until the +fish and seabirds had stripped its bones, in great part at least. + +With the returning day the clouds broke. I had noted before arising that +the gale was subsiding. The sun showed his face and I welcomed him +enthusiastically. The sea did not subside however. I could not think of +leaving my sure haven yet. It did not look exactly like settled weather +but the sun shone warmly for part of that forenoon. + +Before noon several screaming gulls had found the dead whale and were +circling around it, gaining courage to attack. The presence of the sloop +moored to it bothered them at first. But in a few hours there were other +scavengers of the sea at hand which were afraid of nothing. I sighted +the first ugly fin soon after eating my dinner. Then another, and +another and another appeared, and soon the voracious sharks were +tearing at the whale from beneath while the increasing number of +seabirds were hovering and fighting above the carcass. + +Both the finned and winged denizens of the sea became so fearless that I +could have stroked the sides of the sharks with my hand or got upon the +whale and knocked the birds over with a club. Blood as well as oil ran +from the great carcass and the sea was soon streaked all around with +foulness. A dreadful stench began to be apparent, too. The fetid gasses +from the abdominal cavity of the dead creature were escaping. + +But I could not afford to change my anchorage just for a bad smell! +Anxious as I was to get home again, I dared not start for land yet +awhile. I must wait for a fair wind and the promise of a spell of steady +weather. I knew that by heading into the northwest I must reach the New +England coast if I sailed far enough; but otherwise I was quite ignorant +of my position. Having a nicely drawn chart in my chest did not help me +in the least now, for I did not know my position and had no means of +learning it had I been a navigator. + +This day passed likewise and an uncertain, windy night was ushered in. +I set my lantern again on the whale's back, the birds having become less +troublesome; but determined to keep watch for part of the night, at +least. To this end I rolled myself in my blanket and lay down on the +bench at the stern. The clouds still fled across the skies, harried by +the wind; and the wind itself fluctuated, wheeling around to various +points of the compass within a short hour. + +I fell asleep occasionally and finally, before dawn, descended into a +heavy slumber. I don't know what awoke me. The wind was whining very +strangely through the sloop's standing rigging. My oar had tumbled down +and oar and lantern were in the sea. The birds had all disappeared, nor +were the fins of the sharks visible. Off to the south'ard was a strange, +copper colored bank of cloud. The east was streaked lividly, for it was +all but sunrise. + +I rose and stretched, yawning loudly. I suddenly felt a prickling +sensation all over me. I knew that the air must be strongly impregnated +with electricity. Despite the whining of the wind here beside the dead +whale there seemed to have fallen a calm. + +I scrambled up the side of the whale and turned to look northward. +Glory! Within five miles was a bark, under full sail, coming down upon +me--a vision of rescue that brought the stinging tear-drops to my eyes. +I was saved. + +I did not care for the oar and the lost lantern now. I stood there and +waved the coat that I had dragged off at first sight of the vessel. I +knew her company must see me. I was as positive of rescue as of anything +in the world. The bark was flying before a stiff breeze, and it was head +on to the whale. I could not be missed. + +Although the on-coming ship sailed so proudly, however, the breeze that +filled her canvas did not breathe upon my cheek. Nor was it the whining +of that favoring wind I had heard since first opening my eyes. I swung +about suddenly and looked to the south. Up from that direction rolled +the copper colored cloud--and it seemed veritably to roll along the +surface of the sea. + +The sound came from this cloud. Before it the sea itself turned white. +Far above, the upper reaches of the rolling mist seemed to writhe as +though in travail of some great phenomenon. And it was so! Out of this +mass of vapor I saw born within the hour the most remarkable of all +sea-spells. + +But at first my attention was divided between the tornado coming up from +the south and the bark approaching from the north. Not at once did the +favoring wind leave the craft. Where the dead whale lay seemed to be a +belt of calm between the bark and the coming tornado. And this craft in +which my hope was set was really a bark, by the way; I do not use the +word poetically. Her fore and mainmasts were square rigged while her +mizzen mast was rigged fore and aft like my little Wavecrest. + +As I watched her I saw that her navigator had espied the coming tempest +from the south and the crew began to swarm among the sails. She still +came on at a spanking pace; but her canvas was reefed down rapidly until +there was nothing left but the foretopsail, flying jib and the spanker. +Soon these began to shake and then her fair wind left her entirely. She +had reached the belt of calm in which the dead whale and my sloop still +lay. + +In my ears the savage voice from the cloud to the south'ard was now a +roar. The remaining canvas on the bark was reefed down. She lay waiting +for the tempest. I turned to descend from my rather slippery situation. +I preferred to be in the sloop when the tempest struck us, for possibly +I would be obliged to cast off from the dead mammal. + +But before I could get off the whale the writhing cloud changed its +appearance--and changed so rapidly that I was held spellbound. It was +sweeping over the seas so close, it seemed that the topmasts of the bark +could not have cleared it. Now whirling tongues of cloud shot downward +while dozens of spiral columns of water leaped up to meet these gyrating +tongues. Thus sucked up by the whirling cloud the waterspouts were +formed, and dozens of them swept on across the sea beneath the hovering +cloud. + +As the cloud advanced the wind which accompanied it beat the waves flat. +But they boiled about the waterspouts and the roaring sound increased +rapidly. The heavens above and to the north and east grew dark. The +rising sun seemed snuffed out. A vivid glare which was neither sunlight +nor starlight accompanied the tempest as it swept on. + +I trembled at the sight and as the seconds passed I grew more +terrified--and for good reason. What would happen to me if any of those +whirling columns of water and mist struck the dead whale? If they burst +upon the drifting mammal where would I be? What would happen to the +Wavecrest? + +And then quite suddenly there came a change in the on-rushing tornado. +Amid thunderous reports--like nothing so much as the explosions of great +guns--the dozens of small spouts ran together, or were quenched as it +might be, in one huge, whirling column of water which, swept on by the +wind, charged down upon me as though aiming at my particular +destruction. + +I fell upon my knees and clung with both hands to the slot I had cut in +the whale's blubber in to which to thrust the oar. I dug my fingers into +the greasy flesh and hung on for dear life. I actually expected that the +whale--and of course my sloop--would be overwhelmed. + +The waterspout, traveling with the speed of an express train, bore down +upon me. With it came the wind, roaring deafeningly. I lost all other +sound, with such enormous confusion the tornado swept upon me. The whale +rolled as though it had come to sudden life again. + +Over and over it canted. I know my sloop was lifted completely out of +the sea. The waterspout whirled past--within three cable-lengths of the +dead leviathan,--and the tempest shrieked after. The whale rolled back. +I slid down the curve of the carcass and dropped into my plunging sloop. +I feared to remain longer near the dead whale, but cast off both at bow +and stern, and let the sea carry me some yards from the heaving, rolling +carcass. + +And then I could once more see the waterspout. It was still careening +over the sea, its general direction being nor'west; but it whirled so +that it was quite impossible to be sure of its exact direction. + +However, of one thing I was confident. The sailing vessel which I had so +joyfully discovered an hour ago, lay in the track of the waterspout. She +lay still becalmed and if the spout threatened to board her, there +would be no possible chance of the vessel's escaping destruction. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +IN WHICH I FIND MYSELF BOUND FOR SOUTHERN SEAS + + +My little sloop pitched so abominably that I could not stand upright, +but fell into her sternsheets and there clung to the tiller as she swept +along in the wake of the tornado. The waves did not break about the +Wavecrest, for she was still within the charmed circle of oily +calmness supplied by the dead whale. At some distance, however, the +waves were tossed about most tempestuously. + +I could see the bark from bow to stern, for she lay broadside to me. +When the draught from the south first struck her she went over slowly +almost upon her beam-ends; but righted majestically and her helm being +put over she slewed around so as to take the gale bow-on. + +She mounted the first wave splendidly and I saw her crew gathered +forward in her bows. They seemed to be at work on something and there +was a vast amount of running back and forth upon her deck. Meanwhile +the waterspout, whirling like a dervish, bore down upon the bark. + +The great column of water passed between me and the bark, then swung +around and rushed down upon the craft in a way to threaten its complete +extinction. I expected nothing more than to see the bark borne down and +sunk under the weight of the bursting waterspout. + +But when it was still several cable-lengths from the bark I saw the +group upon her forward deck separate, and a long cannon was revealed. +Its muzzle was slewed a little over the port bow and the next instant it +spoke. The explosion sharply echoed across the sea, audible to my ears +despite the huge roaring of the waterspout. + +The column of water, rushing down upon the bark, was cut in twain by the +ball from the gun. The connection 'twixt the whirling cloud and the +whirling water was actually severed by it. Had the spout swept aboard +the bark the great ship would have scarcely escaped complete wreck. As +it was, the revolving water poured down into the ocean with the noise of +a cascade, beating the sea to foam for yards and yards around, but +without doing the slightest damage either to the bark, or to my little +sloop. + +The tornado tore into the north, smaller spouts leaping up and twirling +in their mad dance, but none forming the threatening aspect of that +which the bark's gun had burst. In half an hour the sun was out and I +dared spread a whisp of sail and ran down to hail the bark. + +I saw the crew crowding to the rail. There was a large number for even a +sailing vessel of these times, and I more than half suspected the nature +of her business before a rope ladder was let down to me and I scrambled +up the tall side of the craft with the bight of my sloop's painter over +my shoulder and saw the "nests" of boats stowed amidships. + +"I say, young fellow!" was the greeting I received from a smart looking +youngster--not much older than myself--who welcomed me at the rail "is +that your whale?" + +"If 'findings is keepings' it is surely mine," I said. "But I didn't +kill it, and now I've got a leg over your rail I'll give you all my +title and share in the beast." + +"Good luck, boys!" rumbled a bewhiskered old barnacle who stood behind +the young officer of the bark, "We've struck ile before we're a week +out o' Bedford." + +As I say, without these words I could have been sure that the bark was a +whaler. She was the Scarboro Captain Hiram Rogers, and just beginning +her voyage for the South Seas. The Greenland, or right whale, is no +longer plentiful, but the cachelot and other species have become +wonderfully common of late years. This fact has drawn capital to the +business of whaling once more, and although steam has for the most part +supplanted sails, and the gun and explosive bullet serve the office +formerly held by the harpoon and the lance, more than a few of the old +whale-fishing fleet have come into their own again. + +For the Scarboro was built in the thirties of the last century; but so +well did those old Yankee boat builders construct the barks meant for +the fishing trade--for they were expected to stand many a tight +_squeeze_ in the ice as well as a possible head-on collision with a mad +whale--that their length of life, and of usefulness, is phenomenal. At +least, the Scarboro looked to be a most staunch and seaworthy craft. + +The young fellow who had hailed me was Second Mate Gibson, nephew of the +captain and, I very soon discovered, possessed of little more practical +knowledge of sea-going and seamanship than myself. But he was a brisk, +cheerful, educated fellow and being merely the captain's lieutenant over +the watch got along very well. He expected to study navigation with his +uncle and be turned off a full-fledged mate, with a certificate, on his +return from this whaling voyage. + +However, these facts I learned later. Just now I was only anxious to +know what was to be done with me, and if there was a likelihood of the +captain of the Scarboro touching at any port from which I might make a +quick passage home. This last was the uppermost thought in my mind when +I followed Ben Gibson below to see the captain. + +Captain Rogers was a lanky man with a sandy beard and a quiet blue eye. +He did not look as though he ever had, or ever could, be hurried or +disturbed. Had I been a Triton that had just come abroad I reckon he +would have eyed me quite as calmly and listened as tranquilly to my +story. But Gibson was so impatient (as I could easily see) that I made +the story brief. He burst out with: + +"Captain Rogers! aren't we going to get that whale? She's delivered into +our hand, as ye might say. The men are eager for it, sir, but you +haven't given orders to change our course." + +"And I'm not likely to, Bennie," returned his uncle. + +"But it's a waste of oil!" exclaimed the young fellow. + +"And it would be a waste of time for us to stop for one miserable whale +when we don't expect to break out our boats until we're well below the +equator. We'd just make a mess of the old hooker and have to clean her +up again." + +Gibson was disappointed, and would have urged his desire further, but +Captain Rogers turned to me: + +"If we meet a homeward bound sailing vessel in good weather I'll put you +aboard. Steamships won't stop for you. If you want to join my +crew--you're a husky looking youngster--I'll fit you out and lot you a +greenhorn's share. Best I can do for you. Is your sloop any good?" + +"She's not started a plank, sir," I declared. + +"Pass the word for the carpenter to take his gang and get the stick out +of her, and hoist her aboard," Captain Rogers said to Gibson. "Then take +this lad to breakfast and see that he gets a good one." + +He turned me off rather cavalierly I thought. Of course, my situation +appealed more strongly to me than it was likely to appeal to anybody +else. But Captain Rogers did not seem to consider my being carried away, +willy-nilly, into the Southern Seas, and on a voyage likely to last +anywhere from eighteen months to three years--for the Scarboro was just +out of New Bedford, as has been stated--the captain did not seem to +consider, I say, what my state of mind might be. Of course, I was +thankful that I had been picked up; yet if the weather settled I might +have safely made my way back home in the Wavecrest. And it was easy to +see that the skipper of the Scarboro considered the sloop his property +in return for taking me aboard. + +The lanky captain of the whale ship was not a person to argue with. I +knew it would be useless to bandy words with him. Even his nephew +plainly showed that he considered it wise to drop the matter of the dead +whale right there and then--before the captain at least. He grumbled a +bit about the loss of this first chance for oil when we went to +breakfast, however. Apropos of which, and while we discussed the good +breakfast that was put before us, Ben Gibson repeated for my +delectation the famous whaling story--a classic in its way--wherein the +Yankee skipper and the Yankee mate differ as to the advisability of +chasing a cachelot. Some version of this tale is known to every whaler +and I preserve Ben's story, as he told it, imitating the Down East twang +as well as I may: + +"Forty-two days aout, an' not a drop o' ile in the tanks. I went +for'ard. The lookaout he hailed. 'On deck, sir,' says he, 'thar she +blaows.' + +"I went aft. 'Cap'n Symes,' says I, 'thar she blaows; shall I lower?' + +"Cap'n Symes he gin a look to wind'ard. 'Mr. Symes,' says he, ('Twas +cur'ous, his name was Cap'n Symes, an' my name was Mister Symes, but we +warn't neither kith nor kin), 'Mr. Symes,' says he, 'it's a-bloawin' +right smart peart, an' I don't see fitten for to lower.' + +"I went for'ard. The lookaout hailed again. 'On deck, sir,' says he, +'thar she blaows _an'_ spouts.' + +"I went aft. 'Cap'n Symes,' says I, 'thar she blaows _an'_ spouts. Shall +I lower?' + +"Cap'n Symes he casts an eye aloft. 'Mr. Symes,' says he, 'it's a +bloawin' right smart peart, and I don't see fitten for to lower.' + +"I went for'ard. The lookaout he hailed again. 'On deck, sir,' says he, +'thar she blaows, an' spouts, an' breaches.' + +"I went aft. 'Cap'n Symes,' says I, 'thar she bloaws, an' spouts, an' +breaches. Shall I lower?' + +"Cap'n Symes he took a look at the clouds that was a-scuddin' acrosst. +'Mr. Symes,' says he, 'it's a-bloawin' right smart peart, an' I don't +see fitten for to lower.' + +"I went for'ard. The lookaout he hailed again. 'On deck, sir,' says he, +'thar she blaows, an' spouts, an' breaches, an' it's a right smart +sperm, too.' + +"I went aft. 'Cap'n Symes,' says I, 'thar she bloaws, an' spouts, an' +breaches, _an'_ its a right smart sperm-whale, too. Shall I lower?' + +"Cap'n Symes, he gin a last look at the weather. 'Mr. Symes,' says he, +'it's a-bloawin' right smart peart, and _I_ don't see fitten for to +lower, still--if you're so gol-darned sot on lowerin', you can lower and +be hanged to you.' + +"I went for'ard and sings aout for volunteers, an' the boys jest tumbled +over each other into the boat. We got the whale, and as I was a-swarmin' +over the side, thar stood Cap'n Symes with tears in his eyes. + +"'Mr. Symes,' says he, 'forty years,' says he, 'I've sailed the seas,' +says he, 'man an' boy, man _an'_ boy, an' in all that time I never see +no mate to compare with you,' says he. 'Mr. Symes,' says he, 'you're the +Jim Dandyest mate as ever I sailed shipmates with,' says he. 'Mr. +Symes,' says he, 'daown in my cabin in the starboard locker aft,' says +he, 'you'll find some prime Havana seegars, and the best o' Lawrence's +aould Medford New England rum,' says he. 'That best o' Lawrence's aould +Medford New England rum,' says he, 'an' them prime Havana seegars,' says +he, 'is yourn for the rest of the v'y'ge.' + +"'Cap'n Symes,' says I, 'you can take them prime Havana seegars an' that +best o' Lawrence's aould Medford New England rum,' says I, 'an' stick +'em overboard as fur as I'm consarned. All I asks is common sea-vility; +an' that o' the gol-darndest commonest kind!'" + +Ben told me this story while he ate. He was the liveliest kind of a +companion. I liked him immensely from the start, and the longer I knew +him the better I liked him. This was his first deep sea voyage, but he +had been looking forward to it ever since he was in petticoats--unlike +myself, who had only longed for the sea but knew I probably would never +be allowed to follow my bent. + +Now, it seemed, Fate had flung me right into the life I had so longed +for. Had it not been for mother and the fears I felt for her in the mesh +of Chester Downes' web, I should have welcomed this chance that had put +me aboard the whaling bark Scarboro. + +"And she's a fine old craft," declared the young second mate. "Maybe +she's a bit tender in her bends, but she's sailed in every quarter of +the globe and has brought home many a cargo of oil. We all own shares in +her--in the bark herself, I mean--we Rogerses and Gibsons. I've a +twentieth part myself in pickle against the time I'm twenty-one," and he +laughed, meaning that his guardian held that investment for him--and a +very good slice of fortune his holdings in the old Scarboro proved to +be, at the end of the voyage. + +But now we were at the beginning of it--all the romance and adventure +was ahead of us. Before noon I was not sorry to be aboard of the bigger +craft and looked with equanimity upon my own bonny sloop stowed +amidships. The wind had wheeled again and coming abaft, the bark shot on +into the southward, trying to outrun the gale. Had I not been picked up +as I was I might have been swamped in the Wavecrest. + +For a week, or more, we ran steadily toward the tropics, and in all that +time we passed--and that distantly--but two steam vessels and only one +sailing craft. There was no chance for me to get home. I had to possess +my soul with such patience as I could, while the old Scarboro bore me +swiftly away toward the Southern Seas. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +IN WHICH TOM ANDERLY RELATES A STORY THAT AROUSES MY INTEREST + + +Captain Rogers was not a harsh man, but he was a stern disciplinarian. +That he could not change the course of his ship to land me in some port, +or to put me aboard a homeward bound vessel, is not to be wondered at. +He had both his owners and his crew to think of. I was thankful, when I +saw the week's weather that followed my boarding the Scarboro, that I +had been saved from further battling with the elements in the sloop. + +Ben Gibson advised me to write fully of my situation and prospects and +have the letter, or letters, ready to put aboard any mail-carrying ship +we might meet. A steamship bound for the Cape of Good Hope, even, would +get a letter to Bolderhead, via London, before I could get back myself +from any South American port that the Scarboro might be obliged to touch +at. + +I knew, however, that the whaling bark was not likely to touch at any +port unless she suffered seriously from the gales. Whaling skippers are +not likely to trust their crews in port, for the possible three year +term of shipment stretches out into an unendurable vista in the mind of +the imprisoned sailor. + +For that is what a sailor is--a prisoner. As the great Samuel Johnson +declared, a sailor is worse off than a man in jail, for the sailor is +not only a prisoner, but he is in danger all of the time! However, the +prospect of the danger and hardship of the seafarer's life had never +troubled me. I must admit that I was delighted to turn to with the +captain's watch (that was Ben Gibson's watch) and take up the duties of +a foremast hand upon the Scarboro. I wrote the letters as I was advised. +I wrote to my mother, of course, to Ham Mayberry, and last of all, and +more particularly, to Lawyer Hounsditch. + +To the latter gentleman I explained all I feared regarding Mr. Chester +Downes and his machinations. To Ham I told the particulars of my having +been swept out to sea and instructed him to find my mooring rope and +save it, with its cut end for evidence; and if possible to learn who had +helped Paul Downes, my cousin, cut me adrift and nail me in the cabin +of the Wavecrest. To my mother I wrote cheerfully and asked her to +have money sent me at Buenos Ayres, as that might be a port the Scarboro +would touch at, or a port I could reach if I left the whaleship. + +I cannot say that I was continually worried by my state aboard the +whaler. What boy would not have delighted in being thus thrust into the +midst of the very life and work he had so longed to follow? I could not +but feel that it was _meant_ for me to be a sailor, after all. + +The Webbs had been seafaring folk, time out of mind. My father's father +had tried to keep his own son off the water by giving him a college +education and making a doctor of him. But the moment my father was sure +of his sheepskin, he had looked about for a chance to go as surgeon on a +deep water ship, and had gone voyage after voyage until his marriage. + +Inside of a fortnight Captain Rogers had complimented me on my work and +manner, and Mr. Robbins, the mate, said I was worth my salt-horse and +hardbread. Of course while on duty Ben Gibson, the young second mate, +and I must of necessity hold to "quarterdeck etiquette;" he was "Mr. +Gibson" and I was "Webb." We were punctilious indeed about these +niceties of address. Off duty, however, we were two boys together, and +rather inclined to sky-lark. + +The other close friend that I made aboard the Scarboro during the first +few days of the voyage, was old Tom Anderly. He was the bewhiskered old +barnacle who had welcomed the possibility of getting oil in the bark's +tanks from the dead whale, when I had first come aboard. + +Anderly was a boat-steerer, an old sea dog who had sailed oft and again +with the skipper, and who had lanced more whales than any other half +dozen men aboard. Being in old Tom's watch I grew soon familiar with +him; and from the beginning I saw that the old seaman took more than a +common interest in me. + +The old man was full of stories of whale fishing and other experiences +at sea. But it was not his fund of information, or his tales, that first +of all interested me in Tom Anderly. I had told nobody--not even Ben +Gibson--about the actual event of my being swept out to sea from +Bolderhead, nor had I said a word about my father. The fact that he had +been a sea-going physician would not help me hold my own with the crew +of the Scarboro. At sea, according to the homely old saw, "every tub +must stand on its own bottom." + +"So you come from Bolderhead, do you?" quoth Tom to me, one day when we +were lounging together forward of the capstan, and he was mending his +pipe. + +"That's where we live in the summer," I admitted. + +"Jest summer visitors, are ye?" + +"Well, my mother has a house there." + +"Yes. Ye ain't a native, though, eh?" and before I could reply to this, +he continued: "I been studying about Bolderhead ever since you come +aboard. There was something curious happened at Bolderhead--or just off +the inlet--and it's all come back to me now." + +"What was it?" I asked, idly. + +"Well, it's quite a yarn," he said, wagging his head. "I was running in +the old hooker, Sally Smith, from Portland to New York. She carted +stone. There warn't but five of us aboard, includin' the cap'n and the +cook. But our freight warn't perishable," and he chuckled, "so speed +didn't enter into our calculations. One day there come up a smother of +fog as we was just off Bolderhead Neck. We'd run some in-shore. It fell +a dead calm--one o' them still, creepy times when you can hear sheep +bells and dinner horns for miles and miles. + +"Well, sir! we lay there in this smother of fog and all of a suddent we +heard somebody hootin'. Cap he halloaed back. 'Blow yer scare!' sings +out the same faint voice. 'Keep it blowin'.' + +"'There's somebody out yon tryin' to make the Sally,' says the Cap'n. I +stepped on the tread of the siren and kept her blattin' now and then +and, after some minutes, we heard a splashin' alongside and there was a +man swimming in the sea." + +"He had swum out from shore?" I asked, just to keep the conversation +going. I wasn't really interested. + +"No. His boat had begun leaking badly. It was too heavy to turn over, +and before it sank he slipped into the sea and made for us. He had seen +us before the fog shut down, and knew that we were becalmed. He'd just +tied his shoes about his neck by the lacings and swum out with every rag +of clothes on him--'cept his hat." + +"And why did he swim for your craft instead of to shore?" + +"Said he was nearer the Sally when his boat took in so much water. And +the tide _was_ running out, no doubt. But it always did seem queer to +me," continued Tom. + +"What was queer?" I asked the question without the slightest +eagerness--indeed, I really was not interested much in what the old +sailor was saying. + +"Queer that such a smart-appearin', intelligent gent should have got +himself in such a fix." + +"As how?" + +"To set sail in such a leaky old tub." + +"Oh!" + +"And then, when he found she was sinking under him not to make for the +shore." + +"What became of him?" I asked. + +"He went to New York with us. There he stepped ashore and I ain't never +seen him since--and only heard of him once, an' that was ten years or so +afterward----" + +"Hullo!" I cried, suddenly waking up. "When did all this happen, Tom?" + +"When did what happen?" + +"This man swimming aboard your schooner?" + +"Why, nigh as I can remember, it must be fourteen or fifteen years +ago--come next spring. It was in April, after the weather was right +smart warm. Otherwise he wouldn't have swum so far, I bet ye!" + +My voice, I knew, had suddenly become husky. I was startled, though I +don't know why I should have felt so strangely as I reviewed this tale +he had told. + +"What was his name, Tom?" I asked. + +"The name of the feller I was tellin' you of?" + +"Yes." + +"Carver." + +"How d'you know it was?" + +"Why, he said so!" exclaimed Tom. "A man ought to know his own name, +oughtn't he?" + +"He should--yes." + +"Well!" + +"But did he have any way of proving his name to be Carver?" + +"Pshaw! the Cap'n never axed him to prove it. Why for should he lie +about it? He worked his way to New York and all he got was his grub for +it. I let him have an old pilot coat of mine, he having only a thin +jacket on him. He agreed to pay me two dollars for it. And he was jest +as honest as they make 'em." + +"He paid you?" + +"He sartinly did," said old Tom, wagging his head. "A feller who would +be as good as his word in that particular wouldn't lie about his name, +would he?" + +"You said you heard from him ten years after?" I asked, without trying +to answer Tom's query. + +"Well--yes--it was ten years. But I guess the letter had been lying +there in the office of Radnor & Blunt--them's the folks we dealt with on +the Sally Smith--for a long time. I had left the Sally the year after +and only just by chance went into the office when I was in New York. The +chief clerk he passed me over a letter. In it was a two-dollar bill and +a line saying it was for the coat." + +"And it had been there waiting for you for some time?" + +"'Twas as yellow as saffron. They didn't know where I lived when I was +to home. And I had been 'round the world in the Scarboro, too." + +"And the letter was from Bolderhead?" I asked, slowly. + +"No. That was the funny part of it," said Tom. + +I awoke again and once more felt a thrill of excitement in my veins. I +watched the old fellow jealously. + +"Didn't the man--this Carver--belong in Bolderhead?" + +"So I supposed. But the letter come from foreign parts." + +"Where?" I asked. + +"'Twas from Santiago, Chili." + +"Then he had not gone back to Bolderhead?" I stammered. + +"Bless ye, lad! how do I know? I only know he sent the money from Chili. +He was something of a mystery, that feller, I allow. Ever heard tell of +him in Bolderhead? Are there any Carvers there?" + +"It's a mighty small town along the New England coast in which there are +no Carvers," I replied. + +"Now, ain't that a fact? They're a spraddled out family, I do allow," +said Tom. + +"What did this man look like?" I asked, and I was still eager--I could +scarcely have told why. + +There was an enlarged crayon picture of my father in my bedroom at home. +When he died my mother only had a cheap little tintype of him. I don't +suppose the crayon portrait looked much like Dr. Webb. Certainly there +was little in Tom Anderly's description to connect the strange man +rescued out of the sea with the portrait of my father. Yet the +circumstances, the time of the happening, and the suspicions that had +been roused in my mind by Paul Downes and his father, all dovetailed +together and troubled me. + +Even Ham Mayberry, who scoffed at the idea that my father had made way +with himself, admitted that had Dr. Webb lived my mother and I could +never have enjoyed Grandfather Darringford's money. I could never +believe that my father had been wicked enough to commit suicide. But, +suppose he had merely slipped away from us--gone out of our lives +entirely--with the intention of putting his wife and child in a +prosperous position? + +It was romantic, I suppose. To the perfectly sane and hard-headed such a +suspicion would seem utterly ridiculous. But the longer I thought over +Tom Anderly's story--the more I allowed my imagination to roam--the more +possible the idea seemed. Ham had said my father was not a money-making +man. He was in financial difficulties, too. Grandfather had died and +there was a heap of money just beyond my mother's grasp. My father had +become a stumbling-block in her path--in my path. He it was who kept us +from enjoying wealth. + +The cruelty of my grandfather in arranging such a situation filled me +with anger when I contemplated it. What could my father think but that, +if he were out of the way, it would be far, far better for his wife and +child? + +I could not believe, for an instant, that Dr. Webb would have committed +the crime of self-destruction. But in my then romantic state of mind, +what more easily believed than that he had deliberately removed himself +out of our lives--and in a way to make it appear that he was dead? + +As we did, he knew we would at once enter into the enjoyment of the +wealth left by old Mr. Darringford. There would be no material suffering +caused by his dropping out of sight. I faced the matter with more +coolness and a better understanding than most boys of my age possess, +because of my knowing my mother's nature so well. Take my own sudden +disappearance, for instance. I knew well she would be quite overwhelmed +at first; but if good Dr. Eldridge brought her out of it all right, and +she had somebody to turn to and depend upon for comfort and +encouragement, she would sustain my mysterious absence very well indeed. + +And my father must have known her character much better than I did! +Undoubtedly it had been very hard for mother to endure the cramped +circumstances of those first two years of her married life. It must have +been a great deal harder for Dr. Webb to bear it, knowing that she +suffered for lack of the luxuries and ease to which she had been used. + +I could imagine that the situation when my grandfather died and left his +peculiar will, would have pretty near maddened Dr. Webb. It would not be +strange if he contemplated self-destruction as a means of putting my +mother and myself positively beyond the reach of poverty. He had rowed +out to White Rock. He had left the old watch--I had the heirloom in my +pocket now--for the boy who was yet to grow up and bear his name. The +fog and the Sally Smith had appeared together and offered him means of +escape. + +It would be fifteen years the coming spring that my father had +disappeared. Tom Anderly had hit the time near enough. Had there been +any man named Carver who had suffered such an accident off Bolderhead +Neck as the old seaman told of, I would have heard the particulars, +knocking about among the Bolderhead docks as I had for years. + +The story seemed conclusive. I had never for a moment believed that my +father had wickedly made way with himself. But that he was alive--that +he had gone out into the world, possibly with the hope of finding a +fortune and sometime coming back to mother and me with a pocketful of +money--Yes! I could believe that, and I _did_ believe it with all my +heart! + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +IN WHICH I HEAR FOR THE FIRST TIME THE WHALER'S BATTLE-CRY + + +So impressed was I by the imaginings suggested by Tom Anderly's story, +that I opened my letter to old Ham Mayberry and asked him if he had ever +heard of a man named Carver who had gone through the experiences Tom had +related of the man who had swum to the Sally Smith from the direction of +Bolderhead Neck? + +It was the very next day, and a fortnight after I had boarded the +whaling bark, that I got a chance to send off the letters. The wind +lulled and we crossed the course of a steamship hailing from Baltimore +and touching on the West Coast of Africa; Captain Rogers sent the +letters aboard the steamship. There was no use in my trying to get +passage on her, however; I would have gained nothing by such a move. + +"Now your letters will be picked up by a London, or Lisbon-bound steamer +and it won't be two months before your folks will know all about you," +Ben Gibson said. "If you'd had to depend upon the post-box in the Straits +of Magellan, for instance, it might be six months before Bolderhead folk +would ever know what had become of you." + +I must confess that every day I was becoming more and more enamored of +this life at sea. We had had little fair weather and were kept busy +making sail and then reefing again, or repairing the small damages made +by the gale. Captain Rogers was not the man to lay hove to in any fair +breeze. We outran the bad weather before we crossed the line and then +the lookout went to the masthead and from that time on, as long as I was +with the Scarboro, the crowsnest was never empty by day. + +For we had come into those regions of the South Atlantic where schools +of the big mammals for which we hunted might be at any time come upon, +especially at this season of the year. The gale having left us, the +weather was charming. While winter was threatening New England we were +in the latitude of perpetual summer, and as long as the trade wind blew +we did not suffer from the heat. + +The Scarboro carried crew enough to put out six boats at a time and +still leave a boatkeeper and cook aboard. As a usual thing, however, +only four boats were expected to be out at once--the captain's, Ben +Gibson's (with whom Tom Anderly went as boat-steerer and would really be +in charge until Ben learned the ropes) the mate's boat, and Bill Rudd, +the carpenter's, boat. The gun forward in the Scarboro's bows, however, +was there for a purpose, too, as I found out on the first day we sighted +a whale. + +The man in the crowsnest suddenly hailed the deck, when Mr. Gibson was +in charge: + +"On deck, sir!" he sang out, with such eagerness that the watch came +instantly to attention. + +"Well, sir?" cried Ben. + +"Ah-h blows! Again, sir!" + +"Pass the word for Cap'n Rogers, Webb," the second mate said to me, and +grabbing his glasses he started up the backstays to see the sight. Some +of the hands sprang into the rigging, too, and soon the whaler's +battle-cry rang through the ship: + +"Ah-h blows! And spouts!" + +Captain Rogers was on deck in a moment. He ran up after Ben Gibson and +took an earnest peek through the glasses himself. Then he dropped down +to the quarter and said, but with satisfaction: + +"Only one fish in sight. May be more ahead. Perhaps it's a she with a +calf and has got behind the school. We'll see. Now, boys! tumble up and +let's get the rags on her." + +We went at the sails with a will and for the first time I saw every yard +of canvas the Scarboro could set flung to the breeze. The old bark began +to hustle. She was heavy and she could do no fancy sailing; but having +the wind with her she rushed down upon the lone whale like a steamship. +Soon we could see the undulating black hump of the whale from the deck. + +We saw an occasional spurt of water, or mist, from its blow-holes. By +and by it breached and was out of sight for a short time. When it came +up again it was still tail-end to the Scarboro and not half a mile away. +There was no other whale in sight; but this was a big fellow--a right +whale, or baleener. After coming up it lay quietly on the water, or +moving ahead very slowly. + +The men were eager to get after it in the boats; but Captain Rogers knew +a better way than that to attack a lone whale. We reefed down again and +left little canvas exposed while the Scarboro kept on her tack under the +momentum she had already gathered. The captain went forward where the +gun had been made ready. He swung it about on its pivot and got the +range of the whale. + +At this small distance the huge mammal looked like a cigar-shaped piece +of smooth, shiny slate-colored India-rubber--no longer black. Four or +five feet of its diameter and forty feet or more of its length showed +like a mound in the smooth water, and the body alternately rose and +dipped as the whale swam slowly along. It was doubtless feeding on the +tiny marine creatures which are the sole food of the right whale. It +took great "gulps" of sea water into its cavernous mouth, water which it +strained out through its curtain of baleen, swallowing only the tiny +fish down a gullet so small that it would not admit a man's fist. + +The Scarboro was approaching it from behind and at an angle, so that its +course and ours made the sides of a V. Captain Rogers followed the +course of the whale alertly, swinging the muzzle of the cannon with +skill. Most of the crew were grouped behind him in anxious expectancy. + +Suddenly I felt a touch upon my arm. It was Tom Anderly. He was +pointing silently over the port bow. There, a couple of miles away, I +judged, several columns of mist were spouting into the air. _There was +the school!_ + +But I turned to view the nearby mammoth again just as the gun spoke. I +saw a hideous, crimson zigzag gash on the broad side of the whale, I +heard the rumbling roar of the time-bomb at the point of the harpoon +exploding in the whale's vitals. + +Instantly the whole crew were in a pandemonium of excitement; but the +captain's shrill orders were obeyed like clockwork. I felt the blow of +the great bark give a convulsive jerk. The whale had gone straight +downward and the cable attached to the harpoon shot over the bow so fast +that the eye could not follow its course. Where the hemp touched the +rail a column of smoke arose. Two men sprang with buckets to dip up the +sea-water and pour it upon the shrieking line. The windlass spun around +like a boy's top. + +Coil after coil of the rope leaped into nothingness. Had there been a +big express locomotive hitched to that line, and going at full speed, I +do not think the line would have paid out any faster! + +At last the windlass ceased to spin. The whale had either touched +bottom, or had descended as far as it could. We had already laid our +mainsail aback and as the line lay slack upon the water, Captain Rogers +motioned to the men at the windlass to wind in. It was like playing a +fish at the end of a line and reel. + +Those next few moments were breathless ones for all hands. Suddenly the +sea parted right off the port bow, and not half a cable's length ahead. +Up, and up the gigantic creature rose--up, up, up till it towered +fifteen feet above the Scarboro's rail! + +Then it turned a somersault, beating the sea to waves like the boiling +of a cauldron. It rose again, churning the sea with its tail, and then +raising the caudal fin for twenty feet, or more, and slapping it down +upon the water with a shock like the report of a big gun--aye, like a +thunder-clap! + +Then the great beast whirled round and round--it seemed seeking for the +thing that had so hurt it. We watched the struggle of the leviathan with +pop-eyed expectation--especially the young second mate and myself, for +we were the only real greenhorns aboard the Scarboro. The whale wrapped +several lengths of the line about its body and then shot away into the +southwest, away from the distant school. It swam so fast that it +actually seemed to skip from wave to wave like a swallow. + +When it reached the end of the slack there was a jerk that shook the +bark from stem to stern. Then came the tug of war. There was no small +whaleboat behind it, but a great, 195 ton bark, and this massive bulk +the creature actually towed like a steam-tug towing a steamship. + +The captain let more line out. Far out at the end of two miles of line +the whale lashed about, and churned the sea, and blew blasts of vapor +into the air. Then old Tom Anderly cried that it was spouting blood and +we knew the end was near. + +But the captain gave the whale half an hour in which to die before +ordering the line wound inboard. The rest of the school had gone on +steadily into the south and was still several miles away. We could not +launch our boats for them, but gave our complete attention to the first +kill. + +As the whale felt the pull of the line it gave a single convulsive jump. +But after waiting a moment or two, Captain Rogers commanded the +windlass to be manned again. Slowly the line came in and, after a time, +the huge, inert, flabby body floated, belly up, just off our bows. + +The mate's boat was lowered and a chain was passed around the whale's +body just forward of the tail. With this it was grappled to the +Scarboro's side. I could see a dozen quarreling porpoises eating the +tongue of the monster that had been, two hours before, alive and, to +these scavengers, invincible. + +There was a broad smile on every man's face, from Captain Rogers down +the line. The first kill had been successful. Oil was in sight. But--as +I soon found out--the real work of the voyage had begun as well. + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +IN WHICH WE "STRIKE ON" + + +Belly uppermost the huge whale (its actual length was seventy-three +feet) was fastened "stem and stern" along the starboard side of the +Scarboro. The first operation of butchering a whale--if it be a +baleener--is to secure the whalebone. This is a difficult job as I very +soon saw. The thick, hard, horny substance must be separated from the +jaw; and it sometimes turns the edge of the axe like iron would. + +When we had got the baleen inboard, however, the more disagreeable work +of "flensing" began. A number of the men, with old Tom Anderly at their +head, got upon the whale in spiked shoes and with blubber spades +attacked the main carcass of the beast. The blubber was cut up into +squares, weighing a ton or more each, the hook of the falls caught in +one end, and then the blubber was "eased off" with the spades while +those aboard hauled on the tackle, thus ripping the blubber from the +layer of flesh beneath. + +In handling a small whale, Tom told me, they would thus rip the blubber +off in long strips, rolling the carcass over and over in the bights of +the holding chains. For this one whale Captain Rogers did not see fit to +start the fire under the donkey-engine amid ships, by which the blubber +could have been raised inboard much easier. + +The try-out caldrons were heated, however, and the blubber as it came +inboard--like "sides" from a great hog--was hacked into pieces of two or +three pounds each and thrown into the pots. Soon the deck of the bark, +from bow to stern, was slippery with spilled oil, or bits of blubber. A +thick, greasy smoke rolled away from the ship. It's flavor in the mouth +was at first sickening. We got used to it. + +"Hi, lad!" cried Tom Anderly, when I looked over the rail, "now you've +got a taste of real whaler's souse--everything you put in your +potato-trap for the rest of the v'y'ge will be flavored with whale-oil." + +A whale will weigh about as many tons as it is feet long--in other +words, this seventy-three foot whale weighed probably seventy ton and +from the blubber we tried out thirty tons of oil--nearly half its weight +in the tanks beside the baleen! + +We had been sailing in the wake of the big school of whales we had +spied when we killed the baleener. We came up with them again at +mid-afternoon, and found that they were sperms. That was why the +_Mysticete_ we had killed the day before did not start to drag the +Scarboro toward the school. The baleeners and the _Denticete_ (toothed +whales) do not mix in company, and are, indeed, seldom found in the same +seas. The baleeners are usually found toward the Arctic or Antarctic +regions, while the sperms and their ilk hold to the warm seas. + +Captain Rogers might have run down to the school of cachelots and gunned +for one of the beasts; but then the others would have been frightened +away. The bark lay to upon a perfectly calm sea, and at a distance of +about two miles from the school, and four boats were manned and shot +away from the ship. The whales seemed to be asleep, or lying sunning +themselves, upon the surface of the sea. + +I was in Ben Gibson's boat, of which old Tom was steersman. He would +handle the iron too, for as I have said, Ben was just as green in the +actual practice of whalemanship as I was myself. We raced with the other +boats for the nearest prize, which proved to be a husky bull, longer +than the baleener we had killed. + +I was bow oar, and I found that I could hold my own with the rest of the +crew. Our stroke set a slapping pace and we bent to the work as though +we were racing for the sport of it. Each crew desired to be first and +have the credit of fleshing the iron in this monster. The water being so +calm it proved to be a very pretty struggle. And all done so silently! +The whale is sharp-eared and on a mill-pond sea like this, sounds carry +far. We came up from behind the mammoth, and we were ahead of the other +boats. + +The captain, in the nearest boat, signaled us with his hand to strike +on, while his boat rushed past for another of the sleeping monsters. Old +Tom and the young second mate changed places swiftly and the old +harpooner stood up poising the heavy iron and looking to see that the +coils of the rope were free. With a nod Mr. Gibson ordered the oars +brought inboard and he pulled in the long steering oar himself. The +whaleboat shot close up to the whale's side. The body loomed beside us +like the rolling hull of an unballasted ship. + +With my face over my shoulder I watched old Tom poise the iron. When he +swung it back the muscles of his shoulder and upper arm flexed like a +pugilist's! He was a fit subject for a statue at that instant. Then he +flung body and weapon forward, the latter left his hand smoothly, and +the sabre-sharp point sunk deep in the yielding blubber. + +"Back all!" gasped Ben Gibson, scarcely above his breath, so excited was +he. + +But we had expected the order and were ready for it. The oars went in +with unanimity and the boat shot back, for a whaleboat is as sharp at +one end as it is at the other. + +The whale made no flurry, however. It was as though he lay stunned for +half a minute--perhaps longer. Then he made up his mind what to do, and +he did it with a promptness and speed that was amazing. + +Like a spurred horse the whale started ahead. I declare, it seemed as +though half his length came out of the sea at the first jump. The line +whizzed over the bow as though it were tackled to a fast express. + +"Pull!" yelled Ben and we laid to the oars so that when the line ran out +the shock would not be so great. When the first line was all out and Tom +bent on another we were rushing through the water like mad. We passed +the captain's boat just after he had struck on himself and his kill had +sounded. + +"Go it, young man!" yelled Captain Rogers, standing up and waving his +hat to his nephew, "you're going out of town faster than you'll come +back." + +All we could do in that double-ended boat was to sit still and hold +tight. I candidly believe that we traveled at a speed of a mile minute. +I had once been aboard of a turbine launch, and the black water was +thrown up on either side of that whaleboat in a wave just as it had +flowed away from the nose of the launch! + +This wave seemed to be three feet higher than the gunwale of the boat +and as black as ebony. Even Tom Anderly cast a glance at the +boat-hatchet as though he contemplated cutting the taut line. Our eyes +were blinded by the wind which seemed to be blowing a hurricane. +Actually there was scarcely a breath stirring over the surface of the +placid ocean. + +Our locomotive went directly through the school. Its mates rolled +placidly and eyed us as we shot by with wicked glance. But none of them +followed the boat which continued to tear through the water with +undiminished speed. + +But after a time we found that we had company, and mighty unpleasant +company, too. In the boiling wake of the whaleboat I could see a dozen +triangular fins--the fins of the real tiger shark of the tropics. Not a +nice spectacle to men in such a situation as ours. Secretly I was +frightened, and I reckon even the oldest in the boat's crew felt +serious. + +The mad whale was taking us farther and farther away from the bark and +our friends. Indeed, the Scarboro was wiped out of sight, it seemed, +within a very few minutes, and the other three boats were lost behind +us, too. + +The runaway, however, did not continue straight ahead. Its speed did not +seem to slacken in the least; but soon it began to circle around, +finding itself without its mates. + +"If the old feller don't put on brakes pretty soon the harpoon'll git so +hot it'll melt the blubber and pull out," chuckled the stroke-oar. + +It was the first word spoken that showed relief. There was a perceptible +slackening of our speed. And the whale was "going back to town," as the +captain had intimated. + +"Get hold of that line, Webb, and stand ready to haul," said Mr. Gibson +to me, taking the heavy whalegun from its covered beckets, after +changing places again with old Tom. + +"Now for it!" muttered the boat-steerer, gripping the eighteen-foot oar +and craning forward eagerly. He was just as excited as the rest of us. I +hauled in on the line, standing firmly braced just behind the young +second mate. The whale had actually come to a stop and did not sound. We +drew closer and closer. + +"Jest a leetle be-aft the for'ard fin, sir!" whispered old Tom, +excitedly. + +Gibson grunted some reply and raised the gun, taking careful aim at the +mountain of flesh about which the water swirled. A second or two of +breathless suspense followed as, oars in hand, we waited the report of +the gun. + +A sharp report made me jump. Then came the dull explosion of the +bomb-lance somewhere in the vitals of the whale. + +"Stern all! stern all!" shouted Mr. Gibson, this time finding his voice. + +The wounded whale flung itself completely out of the water. For a moment +we could see daylight underneath the huge bulk and as we backed water +with all our strength it did seem as though that convulsed, eighty +barrel sperm must fall upon the boat and overwhelm it! + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +IN WHICH THERE IS SOME INFORMATION AND MUCH EXCITEMENT + + +The young second officer's command needed no repetition. There was no +temptation for us to linger under the monster. With a crash that seemed +to make sea and air tremble, the great body struck the surface of the +water. + +The whaleboat dashed back just in time, and then rocked upon the waves +as the dying whale rolled to and fro in his "flurry." Then, with a great +puff, the creature rolled partially on his side, and the ocean +thereabout became tinged with the blood thrown out of its blow-hole. + +"Killed with one lance! killed with one lance!" yelled Second Mate +Gibson. + +But then he gripped his dignity again and sat down, giving commands in +his ordinary tone. Old Tom stood up to glance about the sea-scape: "And +now where's that thundering old hooker?" he demanded. "We'll have a fine +time pulling this baby to her." + +But that is what we had to do. We had had our "fun;" now we settled +down to doggedly pulling the heavy oars, being divided into two watches, +and saw the light of the Scarboro's trying-out works at midnight! The +Captain and Mr. Rudd had both got small whales and one had been laid +aboard each side of the bark. The crew were working like gnomes in a +pantomime when we rowed sadly to the bark with our huge tow. How we +worked! I never had been so tired in my life, and at the end of the +second day when the oil from the three whales had been run into the +tanks and the decks cleared up again, I could have fallen into my +hammock and slept the clock around. But one never catches up one's sleep +on a successful whaler, and the Scarboro certainly was proving good her +name as a "lucky" craft. + +Between Tom Anderly and Ben Gibson I learned a lot about whaling +statistics--famous voyages, wonderful accidents to whaling crews "lucky +strikes," and the like. And these facts, both curious and exciting, I +stowed away in my mind for future reference. Despite the fact that steam +vessels and the gun and explosive bullet have almost supplanted the +old-fashioned manner of killing whales, the luck and pluck of half a +century, or more, ago, counted for enough to offset these new methods. + +The most extraordinary good-luck voyage ever made by an American whaler +was that of the bark Envoy, belonging to the Brownells of New Bedford. +She was built in 1826 and in the year 1847 she returned to her then home +port in such a condition that the underwriters refused to insure her for +another voyage. But Captain William C. Brownell and Captain W. T. Walker +agreed to take a chance in the old hulk and she put to sea from New +Bedford under Captain Walker on July 12, 1848. As fitted for sea the +Envoy, for repairs, supplies and all, stood the two owners in the sum of +$8,000, whereas a vessel that could be insured might have cost from +$40,000 to $60,000. + +She got around the Horn without falling apart and took on a cargo of oil +at Wytootackie which her captain had previously purchased from a wrecked +whaler and stored there. This oil she hobbled into Manila with and +shipped it to London at a profit of $9,000. From Manila the Envoy went +cruising in the North Pacific and in fifty-five days she took 2,800 +barrels of whale-oil and 40,000 pounds of baleen. With this she returned +to Manila and shipped the bone and 1,800 barrels of oil to London, the +shipment yielding $37,500 net. + +Again she went cruising and secured 2,500 barrels of oil and 35,000 +pounds of bone, bringing both into San Francisco in 1851, where she +disposed of the oil for $73,450 and shipped the bone to her home port +where it brought $12,500. To complete the record of her good luck, San +Francisco merchants offered $6,000 for the condemned old bark that had, +in two years, or thereabout, brought to her owners and venturesome crew +the sum of $138,450. + +With the captain's share as one-seventeenth of the "lay" the skipper of +the Envoy must have made $8,000. "There were common sailors on that ship +that turned up a thousand dollars in pocket when they were paid off," +said Ben Gibson, when we were discussing it. "The second mate, with his +one-forty-fifth, cleaned up three thousand. Hope I'll do half as well in +the same length of time with the Scarboro." + +I learned that the largest catch brought into port by an American +whaler, as the result of a single cruise, included 5,300 barrels of oil +and 200 barrels of sperm, with 50,000 pounds of bone. It was taken in a +voyage lasting only 28 months by the South America, of Providence, +Captain R. N. Sowle. It sold for $89,000 in 1849, and the cost of ship +and outfit was $40,000. + +The Pioneer, of New London, Captain Ebenezer Morgan, holds the medal for +the largest sum realized from a single voyage. She left her home port on +June 4, 1864, for Davis Strait and returned a year and three months +later with a cargo of 1,391 barrels of oil and 22,650 pounds of bone, +which sold at war-time prices for $150,000. The outfitting of this craft +cost $35,000. + +"Those are all great tales," quoth Tom Anderly, when we had marveled +over these lucky voyages. "But how about the brig Emeline of New +Bedford? She sailed on July 11, 1841 and in twenty-six months she +returned home with how much ile d'you suppose?" + +Ben and I gave it up. Some enormous sum, we supposed, was realized. + +"Yah!" said Tom. "A fat lot. Twenty-six months and ten barrels of ile, +and her skipper killed by a whale." + +"Oh, now that you're on the hard luck tack," quoth Ben, "there was the +Junior, of New Bedford. I've heard my uncle tell of her. Out a year and +two months and put back to port _clean_--and the crew plumb disgusted. +Could you blame 'em?" + +This conversation went on between our watches while the three sperm +whales were being butchered. There was a peculiarity about these +cachelots that I failed to mention. We butchered them in a different +manner than we did the Greenland, or right, whale. The cachelot has no +baleen but it furnishes spermaceti. A large, nearly triangular cavity in +the right side of the head, called the "case" (sometimes spermaceti is +called "case oil") is lined with a beautiful, silver-like membrane, and +covered by a thick layer of muscular fibres. This cavity contains a +secretion of an oily fluid which, after the death of the animal, +congeals into a granulated yellowish-hued substance. Our whale, the +first of the school killed by the second mate's boat--had in its case a +tun, or ten barrels, of spermaceti! + +While the trying-out operations were under way we lost, of course, that +school of sperms; but we drifted some miles into the south, and as soon +as Captain Rogers could get canvas on her, we made a splendid run for +two days west of south and so caught up either with that same school, or +with another herd of cachelots. + +I had thus far seen some of the sport, a good deal of the hard work, +and some of the uncertainties of the whaleman's life; now I came upon a +streak of peril the remembrance of which is not likely to be sponged +from my mind as long as I possess any memory at all. + +It was at daybreak the lookout hailed the deck with "Ah-h blows! And +spouts! All about us, sir!" + +It was true. We had run into the midst of the school of whales. Captain +Rogers being called by Mr. Robbins, took a look around the sea-line, +cast a shrewd look at the heavens, went and squinted at the glass, and +then ordered the canvas reefed down and all hands to breakfast. The +prospect, of both weather and whales, was for a good kill. + +The healthy rivalry between the boats was now manifest. Captain Rogers +ordered all six out, leaving but two men aboard the bark. They could +just manage to steer her under the riding sail. Our boat was off as soon +as any and we pulled steadily for the whale we had chosen as our prize. +We had brought in the biggest one before and we hoped to do as well on +this occasion. + +But we couldn't pick the biggest this time, for as we shot through the +rippling waves, aiming for a huge bull that rolled on the surface, up +popped a young female, with a calf, right in our course. + +"Look out for her!" quoth old Tom Anderly. "She'll be ugly, sir--with +that kid beside her. Better think twice of it, Mr. Gibson." + +"Think we're going to have the other boats give us the yah-yah because +we pass up a fifty-foot she whale, eh?" demanded the young second +officer. "Just step forward here, old timer, and see if you can stick +your fork into her." + +After all, the mate's word was law even to the old boat-steerer. They +quickly changed places and Tom took up the iron. The calf was playing on +the far side of its mother, and so we could easily come up upon the nigh +side without being observed. + +In a few moments Tom had her pinned. Then there was the Old Harry to pay +and no pitch hot, as the sailors say! + +The other two whales I had seen killed merely thought of running away +from the thing that had hurt them. But the one we now were fast in had +her baby to care for. She set off running, but would not swim faster +than the calf could travel. We did not put out the full length of one +line. + +"Haul in! haul in!" cried Ben Gibson, excitedly. "I'll get a lance in +her." + +"You be careful, sir," whispered old Tom, from the stern again, to which +he had gone after throwing the iron. "There ain't nothing wickeder than +a she whale with a sucking calf, when she's roused." + +We had drawn in rather close and could see that the calf was falling +behind. The mother noticed it as well. She feared the thing that had +stung her; but, mother-like, she clung to her little one. She swerved +around and the line fell slack. + +"Look out, now, sir!" cried Tom Anderly again. "She's mad, and she's +scared, and she's looking for us. If she once gits her tail under our +bottom its good-bye Jo for all hands--and the water's mighty wet +today." + +Almost as he ceased speaking the wicked eye of the great creature +blinked at the boat, and she came rushing down upon it. Tom threw +himself upon the great steering oar, while Ben shouted: + +"Pull! Pull, you lubbers! Do you want to be swamped by the critter?" + +We bent our backs to the struggle and the whaleboat shot ahead; but the +maddened cow-whale came on, as big as a brick warehouse, and bent on +running us under! + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +IN WHICH I COME VERY NEAR GOING OUT OF THE STORY + + +Our boat escaped the collision with the mad whale on her first attack. +She rushed by us like a steamer, throwing up a wave from her jaws and +just "humping herself." Old Tom swerved us about swiftly in her wake and +we came right upon the calf. + +"By jinks! I'll soak you one for luck, anyway!" ejaculated the angry +second mate, and he up with his lance-gun and put a shot into the little +fellow. + +"Now, sir, we'll have trouble with her," grunted Tom, grimly. + +"She's coming back!" stroke oar shouted. + +It seemed as though the whale knew her young had been killed. She +whirled in the sea and rushed down upon the drifting calf, the blood +from which tinged the sea for yards around its carcass. It was really +pitiful to see her stop at it, and seemingly caress it, drawing it +toward her with her huge fin that it might suckle. But we were alive to +the chance of getting near enough to lance her, and under whispered +instructions rowed in. + +Mr. Gibson had risen and aimed the gun and was about to fire when the +cow-whale seemed to suddenly understand her loss and her own danger. +With a mighty flirt of her tail (which same came near to swamping our +boat) she "sounded," as it is called. + +Her head went down and her great tail flirted in the air. Mr. Gibson +went over backward, exploding the gun and sending the bomb-lance into +the air. The whale was out of sight in a flash and the line began to run +over the bow with a speed that made the woodwork smoke. + +I bent on another line and then dipped up some water in the bailer to +throw upon the smoking gunwale. It was at this moment that I came as +close to death as ever whaleman experienced. A lurch of the boat canted +me and I threw out my left hand to prevent myself from diving overboard. + +It was a most unfortunate gesture. In some way that uncoiling line, +which moved so fast one could scarcely follow it with the eye, wrapped +about my arm below the elbow and--like a flash--I was jerked out of the +boat and shot beneath the surface of the sea! + +I would like to tell of this terrible incident as it seemed to my mates +in the whaleboat; I presume they were aghast at my flight over the bow +and disappearance. For a man to be carried overboard by the harpoon +line, and entangled in that line, is not an unknown incident in the +annals of whale-fishing. But only one person ever went through the +experience and lived to tell of it before my time--or so I am informed. +This was Captain Parker of the American whaler West Wind. + +I don't know how the matter seemed to Captain Parker; I can only relate +my own sensations. And, believe me, they were queer enough. I shot down +after the sounding whale with a rapidity that seemed to deprive me of +the ordinary powers of thought or imagination. My only conscious idea +was that I was a dead boy if I could not cut that line! + +I was rushing down into the depths head-foremost--and with the +swiftness, it seemed, of a reversed skyrocket! I thought my arm would be +torn from its socket, so great was the resistance of the water. +Fortunately I had been clothed in a thick jacket, and that jacket-sleeve +saved my arm from being mutilated. + +I was traveling so fast behind the sounding whale that I could not move +my right arm from my side. It seemed glued there, so closely was it +pressed to my body by the force of the water. The pressure on my brain +became frightful, too, and thunder roared in my ears--or, so it seemed. + +For an instant I opened my eyes. It appeared that a stream of blasting +flame passed before them. I was blinded. + +But, providentially, I was composed. I knew what I was about--rather, +what was happening to me--each moment. I struggled to reach the knife I +wore at my belt; but every second I grew weaker. The compression around +my chest was like that of a tightening band of iron. + +Of course, only seconds elapsed; but it seemed a very, very long time. +Would the whale ever reach the bottom? Would the line ever sag? Far gone +as I was, my brain remained perfectly clear and I was ready to make use +of the least fortunate incident in my favor. + +Then it came--the slackening of the line. I drove forward with a mighty +kick of my feet--a last gasp of strength. My fingers closed on the +handle of the gully, I ripped it out of its sheath, and slashed the +keen blade across the line. + +I cut my wrist a bit in so doing. Luckily, I cut ahead of the arm +entangled in the line; it was more by good luck than good management. + +My remembrances after that are confused. I know I shot upward from the +dreadful depths, the human body being so much more buoyant than the salt +sea. I lost consciousness slowly. All I finally remember was an +enlarging spot of light toward which I mounted but which seemed to be +miles and miles away! + +I was suffocating. A gurgling spasm seized upon me. Light, and sense, +and all were quenched suddenly. Life was slipping from my grasp. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +IN WHICH WE REALIZE THE "GRIND" OF THE WHALEMAN'S LIFE + + +According to Ben Gibson, they immediately gave me up for dead. The +chance that my arm had not been torn away from the shoulder was small, +and once thus crippled they expected the spouting blood to attract the +sharks, and then--good night! + +But while I remained conscious I had not even thought of those monsters; +nor do I believe that a single one of the beasts came near me while I +followed the whale toward the bottom of the sea. + +The men in my boat were helpless. They might not aid me in the least. +Nor did they know when I severed the line and started for the surface +again. The weight of the hemp kept it down, although it stopped running +out. Fortunately it uncoiled from my arm, or I would have been held down +there and drowned. + +They stared in horror over the sides of the whaleboat, trying to +distinguish any moving object in the depths, and as moment after moment +passed they glanced at each other and shook their heads. I was lost. +They had no hope of ever even seeing me again. + +And then it was that the sharp eyes of the old boat-steerer descried my +arm above the surface, not many yards away. + +"There! look yon!" he yelled. "Pull, you lubbers!" + +They shot the boat ahead and the old man seized me, plunging in his arm +to the shoulder as I sank again. Ben had begun to strip off his +clothing, bound to dive for me if the old man missed. But there was no +need of that, and they hauled me over the side into the boat a deal more +dead than alive. + +Indeed, I fought when they brought me back to consciousness. It was +awful suffering, that recovery--that return to the world which I had +every reason to suppose I had said good-bye to. It was a good half hour +before I began to realize where I was, and what was happening to me. + +We could not go back to the ship, however. Whale fishing is a grim +business. A struck whale has completely smashed a boat, leaving its crew +struggling in the water, and the other boats have gone on after the +monster and left their companions to paddle about on the wreckage as +best they can until the leviathan is killed. + +The other boats from the Scarboro were all busy and our boat was behind. +We had lost our whale and the better part of two lines had gone with the +iron. Before I could do more than lie on the bottom of the boat, under +the men's feet, and gasp, we were pulling after the wounded female +again. She had come up for air and lay sullenly on the surface not half +a mile away. + +She was a Tartar; but old Tom got another iron in her, and later Ben +Gibson killed her with two bomb-pointed lances. When the old bark came +down upon us about night she was dead and we hauled her alongside--the +first fish to be grappled to. But the other boats brought in three more. +We were having great luck and for two more days worked like Trojans. + +But the school of cachelots we had followed had disappeared then. The +Scarboro sailed many a league farther south--and toward the Horn--before +we raised a single whale. We were 40 degrees south then--below the de la +Plata. I feared that the old bark would not put in at Buenos Ayres and +there would be no chance of my returning home by steamship. + +Not that I was yet tired of my work and the life we led. No, indeed. But +I was anxious to hear from home, and I believed letters must be waiting +me there at Buenos Ayres--and money, too. + +No use to think of touching port, however, when the weather was so fine +and whales were so infrequently met with. The whole crew had begun to +get anxious. Mr. Robbins grumbled that he didn't see the use of roaming +about the South Atlantic, anyway. It was the Pacific that whales +frequented. + +"Why the last time I sailed in a windjammer," declared the mate, "we +were four weeks getting around the Horn from Santiago, and there wasn't +a day went over our heads that we didn't see plenty of whales. The +minute we got onto this side of Fuego we never saw a fin--and we ran to +Bahia. Wouldn't have known there ever was a whale in this darned old +ocean." + +But the beginning of the cruise had been fortunate, and the whales had +not entirely forsaken the Atlantic despite the grumbling of the crew. We +killed two small humpedbacks within the week and then came upon sperms +again. At daybreak the lookout hailed and the sea seemed fairly alive +with them. + +We tumbled out and, with only a pannikin of coffee in our stomachs, and +a cold bite in our fists, made off in the boats for the royal game. Ben +Gibson's boat had a good tally so far and we were not going to let the +others beat us much. We had our pick of half a dozen sperms and we took +after a bull that seemed promising. + +We struck on and the wounded whale ran a little way in fright, trying +its best to shake out the harpoon. Finding this impossible, despite its +porpoise-like gambols, the whale sounded; then occurred one of the +strangest happenings that can be imagined. The bull went down, and we +paid out a goodly portion of line. Finally the line stopped running, but +the whale did not rise. + +"What do you know about this, Tom?" demanded the young second mate. +"That critter's gone to sleep down there, hasn't it?" + +"It'll be drowned!" exclaimed the old harpooner. "That's what'll happen +to it." + +"Drowned!" cackled one of the crew. "What you givin' us, old hardshell? +Drown a whale, eh? That's like the boy that pumped water on the frog to +drown him." + +"You wait and see," growled old Tom. "If that bull don't come up pretty +soon we'll have a circus with it, now I tell ye!" + +The whale gave no sign. We tried hauling on the line, and of course it +wouldn't budge. + +"It's sure got its feet stuck in the mud down there," admitted the +second mate, and he stood up and wigwagged frantically for the ship. + +There were only four boats out and the captain himself chanced to be +aboard. He knew old Tom would not give up anything easy, and so he +brought the Scarboro into hailing distance and we told him what had +happened. We had caught a Tartar; the whale wouldn't come to the surface +and we couldn't let go without losing our line and iron. It was no use +jerking on that line. One can't play a whale like a rock bass! + +We rowed to the ship and the line was carried aboard and tagged onto a +winch. We got at it right then and, before long, up came the dead body +of a whale. It was a good sized one--indeed, I thought at the start that +it was bigger looking close beside the bark than it had seemed when we +struck on. + +And pretty soon we found out the reason why it seemed different. We +couldn't find the harpoon Tom Anderly had thrown into it! The line was +found jammed to the back of the whale's mouth and wound round its +body--whales will roll over and over when struck just as an old salmon +will when hooked. + +That whale was drowned. A whale isn't a fish, anyway, and this one had +been under water so long that it was too late, as Ben Gibson said, to +bring forward any "first aid to the drowned" business! + +What puzzled us all--from Captain Hi down to the cook's cat--was what +had become of the iron? + +"And, by jingoes!" cried the second mate, "we ain't got all our line +back." + +This was plainly a fact. When the whale was grappled onto the bark's +side and the line unwound, we found that it still hung down into the sea +and was quite taut. + +"This blamed critter was anchored!" growled Tom Anderly. "And he dragged +his anchor at that." + +"Get onto the winch, boys," said Captain Rogers. "Let's see what's hung +to it now." + +We wound in the line and up came the whale that we had actually struck! +The harpoon still held in its body. Good reason why I had thought the +first whale seemed different from the one we had chased. + +Of course, this whale was drowned, too. When it sounded, the other whale +must have crossed our line while feeding with open mouth. Feeling the +strange sensation of the hemp in the back of its mouth, the creature had +instinctively closed its jaws and, in the struggle, wound the line about +its body and been drowned. + +Of course, this had kept the first whale down until it had drowned and, +marvelous to relate, we had got the both of them--and a tidy addition to +our cargo they proceeded to make. The luck of the second mate's boat +became proverbial after that haul. + +But despite our luck, the real grind of the whaleman's life was taking +hold of us now. It was work--hard, bone labor--if we "had luck," and it +was likewise work if we missed and rowed hour after hour after an +elusive sperm or, at the end of the day, had to row empty handed back to +the bark. + +Ben Gibson loved money; but he admitted to me that a fifteen hundred +dollar prize for the voyage would scarcely pay him for the work and +grind of our daily life aboard the Scarboro. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +IN WHICH IS REPORTED A SERIES OF MISADVENTURES + + +It began much as other busy days had begun for us of the Scarboro, since +we got upon the whaling grounds; the fires under the trying-out kettles +were scarcely quenched when, just at daybreak, came the hail of the man +in the crowsnest: + +"On deck, sir! Ah-h blows!" + +"Where away?" bawled Captain Rogers, who seemed tireless himself and +expected every man and boy aboard to catch the inspiration of a sight +that had now become terribly commonplace to us--a spouting cachelot. + +"Two p'ints on yer weather bow, sir." + +The captain started up the rigging and in a moment the lookout repeated: + +"Thar she blo-o-ows!" + +"I see her!" bawled the captain. Then turning, his roar penetrated to +the fo'castle: "All hands on deck! Tumble up here! Lively now! Sperm +whale, ain't she, John?" + +"Aye, sir, sir!" returned the lookout. "There she breaches!" as one of +the creatures up-ended. A dozen had suddenly come into sight--appearing +like imps in a pantomime--"from the vasty deep." + +As Captain Hi came down Mr. Robbins reached the quarter. + +"Seems a powerful sight of whales, Mr. Robbins," the old man said, +passing the mate the glasses. + +Mr. Robbins went up and took a good squint all around the horizon. + +"Three hundred if there's one, Cap'n!" he declared with reverent +enthusiasm. + +"Does seem so, doesn't it?" admitted the captain. + +The crew had tumbled up and were getting the boats ready. Only four were +going out, but the skipper stayed us until we had had breakfast. + +"We're going into a man's job this morning," he grunted. "We want to be +prepared for it." + +It might be that some of the boat crews wouldn't be back at the ship for +eighteen hours. It often happened, and pulling a heavy ash oar on an +empty stomach is not an inspiring job. + +Inside of five minutes after the first hail the whales spouting from +one end of the skyline to the other. We had run into the biggest herd of +sperms that the oldest whaleman on the Scarboro had ever seen. Maybe we +didn't feel excited! At such times as this one forgets the "grind." +There was both money and excitement ahead of us. We actually sloughed +off the weariness we had felt after a steady twenty-four hours' spell at +the try-out kettles. + +We lowered and spread out, fanwise, from the bark and made for the +whales. No need of racing this morning. As Tom said, it looked as though +a harpoon thrown into the air in almost any direction would hit a whale +when it came down! + +I was eager to throw an iron myself. I had the physique for it, being +such a stocky fellow. And the hard life I had lived since being swept +out to sea in my Wavecrest had agreed with me. My muscles were like +wire cables, I was burned as black as a negro, and there was scarcely a +man aboard the bark whom I could not have flung in a fair wrestle. + +"Give Clint his chance, Tom," said Mr. Gibson, as the boat-steerer came +forward. "If he misses, you can throw a second iron." + +I was tickled enough at this. Old Tom had given me plenty of advice +before about the handling of the harpoon, and I tried to remember all +of his teaching as I released my bow oar and took up the first iron. + +Perhaps it would be interesting to my readers if I told them something +about this weapon of the whaleman. The bomb-lance and gun are all very +well; but the harpoon is the real weapon on which the whaleman must +depend. This iron must be right and the line attached to it must be +right, or the best of harpooners will make a poor tally. + +The whale line is a fine manila rope 1-1/2 inches thick. It is stretched +and coiled with the greatest care into tubs, some holding two hundred +fathoms, some a hundred fathoms. The harpoons are fixed to poles of +rough, heavy wood, every care being taken to make them as strong as +possible. And their weight necessitates a harpooner being chosen from +among the biggest and strongest men in the ship. + +The harpoon blade is made like an arrow, but with only one barb, which +turns on a steel pivot. The point of the harpoon blade is ground as +sharp as a razor on one side and blunt on the other. The shaft is about +thirty inches long and made of the best soft iron so that it is +practically impossible to break it. Three irons were always placed in +our boat, fitted one above the other in the starboard bow. If the +harpooner missed with one iron, or if there was time to fling a second, +he could reach and get it handily. + +In the old days the lances were slung in the port bow. It was with the +lance the whale was actually killed. The harpoon only serves to make the +boat fast to its prize. The lances were slender spears about four feet +long with broad points. The old-time whalemen were rowed right up to the +side of the ironed monster, after it had tired itself out fighting, and +the officer in the bow had to churn the lance up and down in the great +beast until the point reached a vital spot. + +For this reason there were many more serious accidents in the old times +than now. In each boat belonging to the Scarboro there was stowed a +lance-gun in place of the lances. The bomb-lance is surer than the +old-time lance, and keeps the boat and crew farther from the seat of +peril. + +I rose up as soon as we drove in near the big bull that we had been +approaching. And it _was_ a big fellow! I think it was as large a sperm +as we had seen. Its upper jaw and head was covered with lumps and scars +of old wounds. Along the flank was a half-healed, jagged gash, too. + +"That old boy's collided with something," grumbled Tom Anderly in my +ear. "I believe he's a rogue." + +I had heard of ancient, isolated he-elephants being called "rogue;" but +I did not know before that whalemen believe that certain old bull whales +are just as savage and revengeful as tigers. Indeed, among all wild +creatures--either on land or in the sea--there seem to be ancient bulls +that go off from their kind and sulk. They easily "run amuck"--perhaps +are really insane. To attack them is far more perilous than to attack a +herd of their normal fellows. + +This old bull whale, however, had not deserted the society of his +fellows; but he proved to be as ugly a customer as we could have found +in all that school of three hundred or more sperms! + +"He looks bad to me," whispered Tom Anderly. "He's a fighter. He's +probably smashed more boats in his time than the old hooker carries when +she's nested up full. Gosh! look at the warts on him." + +"And that gash in his side," said Ben. "How do you suppose that +happened?" + +"Looks just like he'd rubbed against a copper keel," declared the old +man. + +I thought they were trying to scare me. But I learned later that it was +not an uncommon thing for an old whale to use a ship's keel to rub +himself against--it scrapes off the barnacles! + +I just gave old Tom a grim look, however, and seized the harpoon. We +were creeping up on the bull and I intended to make a good cast. The +creature was weaving slowly along and not paying any attention to our +boat at all. My! he did look enormous. The nearer we came to him the +more threatening was his appearance. He was more than a hundred feet +long, I was sure. He would have weighed as much as twenty-five of the +biggest elephants that ever showed in a menagerie. + +I am free to confess I felt _queer_, as that slate-colored monster +loomed up before our bow. With one flop of its tail it could smash the +craft and give us all a ducking--perhaps kill half the crew. Many of the +old whalers' yarns I remembered as I poised that heavy shaft. + +But then old Tom whispered: "_Now!_" I let go with all my might. The +harpoon sunk into the huge bull until half its staff was hidden! I had +made as pretty a cast as ever Tom Anderly could himself. + +"Back all!" shouted Gibson. + +Our craft shot backward while the bull gave a startled plunge forward, +and the line began to run out fast. In half a minute the beast sounded +and we prepared for a long fight. But suddenly he was up again and shot +two or three geysers of water into the air. He lay still and we began to +take in the slack. + +"Call this a fight?" muttered the second mate, with scorn. + +I had slipped into my seat and the mate was changing with Tom again, +bent upon using the gun for the finishing touches. Suddenly the old bull +started. He did not come for the boat but headed directly for the bark, +lying not more than half a mile away. He went so fast we could scarcely +see the harpoon line. He made the sea about him boil, and the waves in +his wake (for we were close up to him) almost swamped us. + +"What's he going to do?" screamed Gibson. + +"Holy mackerel!" groaned the stroke oarsman. "He's going to bunt the old +hooker." + +"That's what he's up to," agreed Tom Anderly; "he's after revenge. And +if he hits the Scarboro _right_, we're likely to have a nice time rowing +ashore, boys--you can take my word for that!" + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +IN WHICH OUR CHAPTER OF BAD LUCK IS CONTINUED + + +That old bull was sure a fighting whale. The annals of whaling do not +lack records of such old rogues, as witness the sinking of the Kathleen, +of New Bedford on the "12-40 ground" east of the Barbadoes in 1901. A +bad whale can do a lot of damage besides smashing whaleboats. Thus far +we had suffered no loss from the monsters which the Scarboro was +hunting; but as this old bull shot like an arrow for the scarred side of +the bark, which was hove to less than half a mile away, it did look as +though she was due to get a bad bump. + +We were on a short line, however, for the bull had not sounded deeply. +Ben Gibson sprang up with the bomb gun and tried to put a lance in the +beast at that distance. It only scratched him, I suppose, but it _did_ +seem to swerve him from his course. + +Instead of striking the Scarboro, he ran past her stern and circled +around her. We were snatched after the whale at racing speed and saw the +fellows aboard hanging over the rail grinning at us--like spectators at +a horse race. + +"Them sculpins wouldn't grin so broad if the critter had bumped the +Scarboro," declared Tom Anderly. + +The beast lay quiet for a bit and we pulled up on him. Before Gibson +could get him with the lance gun again, he sounded. + +"Now, by gravy!" exclaimed old Tom, who had a wealth of expletives in +him when he was excited, "look out for squalls." + +"He's been squally enough already, hasn't he?" demanded our young +officer. + +"You ain't seen the end yet, sir," returned the old man. + +"Well, I bet I _do_ see the end----" + +He broke off with a sharp intake of breath. Then: "Stern all!" he +ejaculated. + +Up through the green sea came a huge shadow. We could not shoot the boat +back in time to clear the monster. The whale had turned and shot up +under the boat! + +The boat jarred as the prolonged lower jaw of the bull whale struck her +keel forward. There was a mighty rush of waters, like a cataract; the +whaleboat was flung aside, and Ben Gibson shot over the bow and fell +right into the open mouth of the whale! + +I know I screamed something--I don't know what I said. The boat was +shooting back under the impetus of the oars, and we escaped overturning. + +But I had seen Ben fall and saw him disappear into the cavern of the +creature's mouth. I saw, too, the jaws come together once, and I swear +our second mate was in the bull's mouth when it closed! + +But the next moment the maw of the beast opened and in the swirl of foam +and blood-streaked water I caught sight of the senseless Gibson. + +"Pull!" I yelled. + +And although I had no business to give a command, the men obeyed me and +the boat shot forward again. I seized our second mate by his shirt +collar. In a moment I had lifted him into the boat. + +At the same moment Tom Anderly got forward, seized the gun which poor +Gibson had dropped, and sent a bomb-lance into the whale at so short a +distance that it seemed as though we might have touched him by putting +out a hand. + +But that fighting whale died hard. It leaped after the bomb exploded +and again we were almost overturned. + +"Cut loose! Let the beast go!" cried some of the men. + +But Tom Anderly would not lift the boat hatchet. To cut a whale free, +unless it becomes absolutely necessary, is "against the religion" of any +old whaler. As for myself, I was bending over the injured second mate, +trying to revive him. + +Ben Gibson had been through a most awful experience. Old Cap'n Wood, of +Nantucket, had been in the mouth of a whale, and lived to tell the +story. I remembered of reading about his experience. But it was a most +awful accident and I feared indeed that the young officer was dead. + +Therefore I was not really cognizant of what was going on until half the +crew of our boat began to shriek a multitude of commands and advice. +Then I looked up and saw that the bull whale for a second time was +charging the Scarboro. + +It was plain the old fellow realized that the bark was his enemy. He +paid no attention to the boat that was tearing through the sea behind +him. And we was so near the bark now that nothing could be done to +swerve the the fighting whale! + +Straight on dashed the big bull, at a speed that snubbed the +whaleboat's nose under water, for we were close up to the beast. +Straight on, with tremendous headway and a fearful, gathering momentum, +headed for the grimy, battle-scarred broadside of the old Scarboro. +Those aboard of the bark could do nothing. She was still hove to. The +fighting whale had missed her by a hand's breadth once before, but this +time he did not swerve. + +"Cut loose, Tom!" I yelled, finally understanding--as did the other men +with us--the menacing disaster. In a few seconds we would smash into the +bark's hull, whether the whale dived or not. + +But the bull didn't dive, and Tom swung the axe. His quick stroke +severed the line and every man in our boat was awake to the impending +catastrophe. Stroke sprang for the long steering oar. The rapid swing of +it barely swerved the heavy boat out of the course of sure disaster. + +On went the released whale. Plumb his head smashed against the hull of +the big bark. The collision was a most awful shock. Consider a heavy +train pushing a mogul locomotive down grade ahead of it, and the whole +thing ramming another train--the result could have been no more awful. + +The three-inch plank of which the vessel's side was made splintered like +the thinnest veneer. The ends of big timbers in her hull were ground to +pulp and matchwood. With a terrific splash of his tail, the fighting +whale rolled over, after rebounding from the bark, and lay, seemingly +stunned! + +The bark, driven over almost on her beam ends, righted slowly. We knew +the whale must be as good as dead, but we had no thought for him then. +The smashing of the Scarboro might mean torture and death to every man +of her crew. We were out of the track of general steamship routes, and +far, far from land. If the bark sank, we were done for! + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +IN WHICH THE WAVECREST SETS SAIL AGAIN + + +Nobody gave any further thought to the whale. My own eyes were set upon +that yawning wound in the hull of the old Scarboro. After the shock of +the collision the bark righted slowly, and when she did so the sea +rushed into the hole in a most awful fashion. + +We rowed rapidly toward the bark and made fast to the hoisting tackle. +We had a sling let down for the second mate, who was still unconscious. +Before we got him on the deck and got aboard ourselves, Captain Rogers +had all hands remaining aboard at work to stop the dreadful leak. + +Had all six of the boats been out at this time I fully believe the +Scarboro would have gone to the bottom. Or, if there had been any sea to +speak of, she would have gone down inside of two hours. + +But being right on the job, as you might say, Captain Hi lost few +seconds in the work of seeking to save the bark--and, incidentally, all +hands. He did not even take the time to see how badly his nephew was +hurt just then. As our crew came over the rail he set them to work, too. + +"Take poor Ben below and let cookee do what he can for him," he bawled +to me. "I want you to deck here, Webb." + +There was a light breeze, and he had some canvas put on her and got the +old bark hove over so that the hole the whale had smashed (it was right +at the water-line) was where it could be got at. Of course, it was +impossible at first to do anything from inside. There were two men on +the pumps and they kept steadily at work, now I tell you. + +Mr. Rudd, the carpenter, was not aboard; but Captain Webb did all that +could be done at the moment. He put slings under the arms of two men and +let them down the canted side of the craft, on either side of the great +gap. Then canvas was let down--three thicknesses of heavy, new +cloth--and this was laid over the hole after the splinters were cut +away, and tacked to the hull, cleats being used to hold it in place all +the way around. + +Meanwhile the tar-buckets had been heated up, and those fellows gave the +canvas and the hull all about it a good coating of tar. We ran several +miles on this tack, and until the job was completed. Then, when the men +and the tar-buckets were inboard again, the Scarboro was put over on the +other tack and we beat back toward the whaleboats. + +I can't say that no water came in; but we could keep the water down by +working steadily at the pumps; and before night we had the other boats +aboard, and three whales--including the old bull that had done the +damage--strung together nearby. We could do nothing toward cutting up +and trying-out the whales until the bark was safe. + +A sharp blow just then would have fixed us, and that's a fact. Mr. Rudd +and his helpers went below and broke out enough cargo to get at the hole +stove in her side. Meanwhile we had to keep the pump brakes moving and +the water that flowed from the pipes and out at the hawser-holes was as +clear as the sea itself. The old bark had settled a good bit, and we +were by no means out of danger. + +Here we were, by the Captain's reckoning, all of four hundred miles +southwest of Cape St. Antonio, which is south of the huge mouth of the +de la Plata. To set sail for the principal port of Argentina--or any +other port--would not suit Captain Hiram Rogers a little bit. Nor am I +at all sure that, crippled as she was, the bark could have got to land. + +Mr. Rudd would be some days repairing the damage done by the fighting +whale. And meanwhile, what was going to become of poor Ben Gibson? + +For our cheerful, boyish second mate was badly hurt. Consider: the whale +had actually shut his jaws on Ben, and that one crunch should, by good +rights, have finished the young fellow. + +But he was reserved for a better fate, it seemed. When the captain +overhauled his nephew, he found that he had sustained, beside the scalp +wound from which he bled so much, a broken arm, a lacerated leg above +the knee, and several broken ribs. These ribs and possible internal +injuries are what feazed Captain Hi. He was no mean "catch as catch can" +surgeon; most whaling captains have had to tackle serious medical and +surgical difficulties in their careers. + +Ben, however, was the skipper's own flesh and blood--his sister's child. +He couldn't face that sister (she was a widow) if he brought Ben back to +New Bedford a cripple for life. And the whale had certainly smashed him +up badly. + +"Clint Webb," he said to me, in a most serious tone, when he had made +his examination of the poor fellow, "we are in a bad hole. It'll take a +week o' fair weather for the carpenter to make us all tight again--and +we ain't even sure of the weather. Then, there's the three whales +alongside. We can't throw them away. The crew would have cause to +complain. But this boy ought to have doctor's care." + +I agreed with him, but had nothing to offer. + +"I couldn't sail for the Plate now," he ruminated, "if I wanted to. +Repairs of the ship must come before repairs of the boy. Webb! it's a +good season, and the winds are fair. Would you make an attempt to get +Ben to Buenos Ayres in that sloop of yours?" + +"In a minute!" I declared, quickly, for the suggestion went hand in hand +with the desire I had been milling in my mind for days. + +"I'll mark you a chart. You can't miss of it. Anyhow, you'll hit land if +you keep on going. There are fine hospitals at Buenos Ayres. I'd feel +more as though I'd done my duty by Ben if I got him there. I'll find you +a man to go along. Two of you can work that sloop prettily." + +"Aye, aye, sir," I agreed. + +He bustled away and brought back old Tom Anderly. I couldn't have +wished for anybody else. In a quarter of an hour we had agreed on +everything. Tom and Ben were to stick around Buenos Ayres until they +heard from Captain Rogers, or the Scarboro put in for them. Of course, I +would be free once I got to land, unless I wanted to stick the voyage +out and claim my lay at the end. However, I was to have one hundred +dollars in gold from the captain, and the sloop, whichever way I +decided. + +Captain Rogers had set Ben's arm and dressed his other wounds. Ben was +conscious, but in great pain from the broken ribs. He knew what we were +going to attempt, and he was willing to trust himself to old Tom and me. +And the next morning, as soon as it was light, the Wavecrest was slung +over the side, her mast stepped, and the riggers got to work on her. By +noon she was provisioned and everything was ready for our cruise. + +Ben Gibson was let down into the cockpit of the Wavecrest on a +mattress and was got comfortably into the cabin without any trouble. +There was a steady breeze, but the sea was calm. The crew bade us +godspeed and the skipper wrung my hand hard; but only said: + +"Do the best you can for him, Webb. I'm trustin' to you and Tom to pull +the lad through." + +We got the canvas up and sheered off from the Scarboro's side. We could +hear the muffled hammering of the carpenter and his mates inside her +wounded hull. They were fighting to keep the old hooker above the seas. +As we drifted away from the whaling bark I was not at all sure that we +should ever see her above the seas again. + +Our canvas filled and the sloop got a bone in her teeth and walked away +with it just as prettily as ever she had sailed in Bolderhead Harbor. + +"She's a beauty boat, lad," growled old Tom Anderly. "And she's taking +us out o' range o' them carcasses--Whew! they sartainly do begin to +stink. I don't begredge the boys their job of cutting them whales up +when they git at it." + +We left the gulls and the sharks behind, with the bark and the rotting +whales, and soon they were all far away--mere specks upon the horizon. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + +IN WHICH WE SAIL THE SILVER RIVER AND I SEE A FACE I KNOW + + +I had covered, perhaps, almost as much open sea when I was blown out of +Bolderhead in the sloop, as now lay between the Scarboro and Cape St. +Antonio. But, as you might say, I had taken that first trip blindly. +This time I had my eyes open and all my wits about me--and I knew that +we had taken a big contract. The Wavecrest was a mere cockle-shell in +which to cross such a waste of open sea as that which lay between us and +the mouth of Rio de la Plata. + +But the Wavecrest was a seaworthy craft, and that indeed had been +proved. She had been freshly caulked while she lay on the deck of the +Scarboro, and her seams did not let in enough water to keep her sweet. +She sailed well in either a light or heavy wind and I really had no fear +that we should not make the great seaport of the Argentine Republic all +in good time. + +It was bad for poor Ben Gibson, however. The sun was hot and in the +cabin the atmosphere was sometimes stifling. However, the captain had +warned me to keep the fellow as quiet as possible and not to move him if +it could be helped before we reached our destination. + +Old Tom sailed the sloop most of the time, and I gave my attention to +the wounded youth. But we tried to keep something like watch and watch. +We only slept by snatches, however, and never a cloud appeared in the +sky as big as a man's hand that we did not watch it cautiously. As for +sail, or steam, we saw neither till we raised the cloudy headland that +marked Cape St. Antonio on the skyline. + +It was a pretty tame cruise to write about, for nothing really occurred. +We were only on the watch for some untoward happening; that made it +nerve wracking. But even when we sighted the spur of land which we knew +marked the southern boundary of the de la Plata--the widest mouth of any +river on the globe, for it is not masked by islands at all--we were not +out of danger. The peril of gales still menaced us. We had many miles to +sail yet before we reached Buenos Ayres. + +Indeed, we got a stiff blow before sighting Point Piedras; but it +favored us after all, and the Wavecrest ran before it at a spanking +pace. We had sighted plenty of other craft now--both sail and steam. One +great, red-funneled steamship came in behind us, and at first we thought +it was making for Montevideo, which is on the northern side of the +river; but finally old Tom made out the steamer and what she was. + +"It's one of the Bayne Line steamers from Boston," he declared. "I know +them red pipes. They touch at Para, Bahia, and other ports. She's bound +for Buenos Ayres now--no doubt of it." + +The little squall that had kicked up something of a sea had now passed. +The great steamship overhauled us rapidly. I chanced to be at the helm +and I kept my head over my shoulder a good deal of the time, watching +the approach of the great, rusty-hulled craft. Somehow I felt as though +I had some connection with the boat. A foolish feeling, perhaps; yet I +could not shake it off. + +The Wavecrest was bowling along nicely so I could give my attention to +the big ship, which I soon made out to be the Peveril. Old Tom was +right. She was one of the Bayne Line ships, coming from Boston--coming +from home, as you might say! To tell the truth, I was a good bit +home-sick. + +I let my mind wander back to Bolderhead. Circumstances had made it +possible for me to leave the Scarboro, and I was now nearing Buenos +Ayres where I had written my mother to cable me money at the American +consul's bureau. I had got enough of whaling. Adventure and travel is +all right; but I had had a taste of it, and found it to be merely an +alias for hard work! + +"It's me for home on the first steamship going north," I told myself, +wisely. "I've had adventure enough to last me a while." + +I was sailing on the Silver River, as the exploring Spaniards had first +called this noble stream, and there might be a lot of fun and hard work +ahead of me if I remained with old Tom and Ben Gibson until they +rejoined the Scarboro. But I wasn't tied to them. I'd probably have +plenty of money with which to pay my passage home; and just then I +wanted to see my mother, and Ham Mayberry, and lots of other folk in +Bolderhead, more than I wanted to be knocking about in strange quarters +of the world. + +I glanced around at the steamship again. She had almost caught up to us, +for although the sloop had a fair wind, the Peveril was sailing three +lengths to our one. On and on she came, the smoke pouring from her +stacks. Her high, rusty side loomed up not more than a cable's length +away. I could see the passengers walking on her upper decks, and the +officers on her bridge. Below, the ports were open, their steel shutters +let down on their chains like drop-shelves. + +Some of the crew were looking out idly upon the Wavecrest as the +steamship slipped by. A cook in a white cap came to one port and threw +some slop into the sea. As he emptied the bucket my eyes roved to the +very next port aft. There somebody sat peeling vegetables. I could see +the flash of the knife in the sunlight, and the long paring of potato +peel curling off the knifeblade. + +It was an idle glance I had turned upon the vegetable peeler. He was +only a cook's apprentice, or scullion. There was no reason why my gaze +should have fastened upon him with interest. Yet my eyes lingered, and +suddenly the fellow raised his head and his face was turned toward the +open port. + +The mental shock I experienced made me inattentive to my helm and the +Wavecrest fell off. Old Tom sang out to know what I was about, and +silently I brought the sloop's nose back again. The steamship had +slipped by us and the wake of her set the little craft to jumping. + +My mind was in a fog. I steered mechanically. The face I had seen at the +open port of the Peveril was still before me, as in a vision. I knew I +had not been tricked by any hallucination. I had not even been thinking +of the fellow at the time. And I was sure that the cook's assistant +aboard the Peveril had not seen and recognized me. + +But I could not be mistaken in my identification of that face at the +port. It was that of my cousin, Paul Downes--Paul Downes, here on the de +la Plata, thousands of miles from home, and evidently working in the +menial position of cook's helper on the steamship, Peveril! Is it to be +wondered that I was amazed? + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + +IN WHICH I BEGIN TO WONDER "IS IT ME, OR IS IT NOT ME?" + + +I had told nobody aboard the Scarboro the particulars of my home-life, +or the incidents leading to my being swept out to sea in the +Wavecrest. Had Ben Gibson been my mate in the crew instead of holding +the position of second officer, undoubtedly he would have had my full +confidence. As things stood, I had no desire to take either Ben or the +old sailor into closer communion with my thoughts. + +The great steamship passed us and swept up the Silver River, leaving the +Wavecrest far behind. She would reach Buenos Ayres fully twenty-four +hours before the sloop could make that port. But this delay did not +trouble me at the time. I wanted to think the situation over, anyway. + +At the start I was pretty sure that Paul Downes had not come down here +on my account. He wasn't looking for me. Nor did it seem that he had +left home under very favorable circumstances. Otherwise he would not be +peeling vegetables for the cook of the Peveril. + +After the first confusion passed from my mind I could pretty easily +figure out the probable incidents that had brought my cousin down here. +I knew about how long it had taken the steamship to voyage from her home +port. Had my letters been delivered in Bolderhead within reasonable +time, my mother and Ham, and the others must have been aware of the +explanation of my absence a week or two previous to the sailing of the +Peveril from Boston. + +I had told Mr. Hounsditch, our lawyer, the whole truth about my sloop +being swept away; I had likewise advised Ham Mayberry to gather what +evidence he could against my cousin and those who had helped him commit +the outrage that had placed me in such peril. It was a cinch that Paul +had got wind of these discoveries, had been fearful of being arrested +for his part in the crime, and had run away from home. + +In doing so, too, it was evident that his father, Mr. Chester Downes, +had not been a party to his escape. Paul had slipped away without his +father's help or knowledge of his going. Otherwise Paul would not have +been in a moneyless state, and he must have been moneyless before he +would have gone to work. Paul didn't love work, I knew; and I could +imagine that there was no fun connected with the job he seemed to have +annexed aboard the Peveril. + +I reckoned I should probably hear all about it when I went to the +consul's office at Buenos Ayres. Either my mother, or Ham, would write +me the particulars of Paul's running away from home. The Bayne Liner was +no mailboat; I expected that my letters had been awaiting me for some +time at the port; and the money could have been cabled nearly a month +before this date. + +Well, we got into Buenos Ayres in good season, and I noted where the +Peveril was docked. We moored outside a raft of small sailing crafts and +had the dickens of a time taking Ben Gibson ashore on his mattress. A +couple of blacks helped us, and after sending in a telephone message to +the hospital, a very modern and up-to-date motor ambulance came down and +whisked us all off to that institution. I couldn't speak Spanish, nor +could Ben; but those medicos could talk English after a fashion, and +soon Ben was fixed fine in a private room and the doctors declared he'd +be fit as a fiddle in six weeks. + +Then it was up to old Tom and me to find a place to camp. The sailor was +for going back to the sloop where board and lodging wouldn't cost us +much; but I confess I was hungry for something more civilized. I wanted +bed-sheets and ham and eggs for breakfast--or whatever the Buenos Ayres +equivalent was for those viands! + +We made some inquiries--of course along the water-front--and found a +decent sailors' boarding house kept by a withered old Mestizo woman (the +Mestizoes are the native population of Argentina) who had some idea of +cleanliness and could cook beans and fish in more ways than you could +shake a stick at; only, as Tom objected very soon, all her culinary +results tasted alike because of the pepper! + +It was after breakfast the morning following our arrival that Tom +uttered this criticism. We were on our way to the hospital. We found Ben +feeling "bully" as he weakly told us, when we were allowed to go up to +his private room. Captain Rogers had given him drafts on a local banker +and he was fixed _right_ at that hospital. The doctors had examined him +again and pronounced him coming on fine. So, with my mind at rest about +him, I tacked away for the little dobe building down toward the +water-front which at that day flew the American flag from the staff upon +its roof. + +It was a busy place and most of the clerks I saw were Mestizoes, or +Spaniards, or the several shades of color between the two races. Spanish +seemed to be spoken for the most part; but finally a man came out of a +rear office and asked me abruptly what I wanted. + +"I'd like to see Mr. Hefferan," I said. + +"He's busy. Can't see him. What do you want?" snapped this man. + +"I'm an American, and I'd like to see him," I began, but the fellow, who +had been looking me over pretty scornfully broke in: + +"That's impossible, I tell you. Tell me what you want? Had trouble with +your captain? Overstayed your leave? Or have you just got out of jail?" + +Now, I hadn't thought before this just how disreputable I looked. I was +dressed in the slops I had got out of the Scarboro's chest, was +barefooted, and was burned almost as black as any negro--where the skin +showed, at least. I couldn't much blame this whippersnapper of a +consul's clerk for thinking me a tough subject. + +"None of those things fit my case, Mister," I said, mildly. "I know I +don't look handsome, but I've been on a whaling bark for several months +and I haven't had time yet to tog up." + +"A whaleship?" he asked. "An American whaleship?" + +"Yes, sir," said I. + +"There is none in port." + +"No, sir. I have been with the Scarboro. I'm mighty sure she's not in +port." + +"The Scarboro?" he asked me with a sudden queer look coming into his +face. "You're one of the crew of the Scarboro?" + +"Not exactly one of her crew. But she picked me up adrift and I have +been with her until lately." + +"You come in here," said the clerk, slowly, motioning me into the room +behind him. And when we were in there he motioned me to a seat and sat +down himself in front of me. "Let's hear your yarn," he said. + +I thought it was rather strange he should be so interested, and likewise +that he should stare at me so all the time I was talking. But I gave him +a pretty good account of my adventures from the time I was blown out of +Bolderhead Harbor, finishing with how I came to be at Buenos Ayres +without the bark herself being within six or seven hundred miles of the +port. + +"So that's your yarn, is it?" he asked me grimly, when I was done. + +I stared at him in turn. To tell the truth, I was getting a little warm. +His face showed nothing like good-humor and friendliness. I waited to +see what it meant. + +"So that's your yarn?" he repeated. "I thought when I set eyes on you +that you were a tricky fellow. But this caps all!" Why, he suddenly +raised his voice and stood up, "what do you mean by coming here with +such a yarn? I've a mind to clap you into jail!" + +I stood up, too. I must confess that I felt a bit scared. It was a +pretty hot day. I didn't know but maybe the heat had overcome the fellow +and he had gone crazy. + +"How dare you come here with such a tale as this, you dirty +beach-comber?" he demanded, shaking his fist in my face. "If Colonel +Hefferan was here I don't doubt he'd kick you out of the place. And +you'd better go quick, as it is. Don't you show your face here +again----" + +All the time he had been walking me backward to the door. I had been +obliged to keep stepping to keep before him. But I backed up against the +door and stopped. I was getting angry, and I thought I'd gone far +enough. + +"I don't know what you're driving at," I said. "But one thing I do +know. My name is Clinton Webb, I have every reason to believe that my +mother has cabled me some money in Mr. Hefferan's care, and I expect +there are letters for me, too. I want the money and the letters----" + +"Too late, you scoundrel!" he snarled at me, still shaking his fist. +"Your game is played too late. Not that we would have believed a +scoundrelly beach-comber like you----" + +"You don't believe what?" I shot in, raising my voice. + +"I know you're not Clinton Webb." + +"WHAT?" + +"You're too late," he said, laughing nastily. "Mr. Webb came here +yesterday. He identified himself to the satisfaction of Colonel +Hefferan, and he got his money and letters. I don't know who put you up +to this trick, but you're too late, I tell you!" + +He managed to push me aside and now pulled open the door. He put a +whistle to his lips and blew a shrill blast. Two barefooted, but very +husky negroes came running in from the portico. I had noticed them +lounging there when I entered. + +He said something sharply to them in Spanish, and they grabbed me. My +blood was boiling, and I believe if they had given me a moment's warning +I would have sailed into them. But they held me on either side, and a +hundred and eighty pounds of negro on each arm was too much for me. They +dragged me toward the main door of the building in a hurry. + +"You get out of here!" cried the consul's clerk behind me. "And don't +you dare come back. If you do you'll go to the calaboose as sure as +you're a foot high!" + +I found myself out upon the sun-broiled street, with the two grinning +guards barring my return. It had never entered my mind before that Uncle +Sam is sometimes served by an ignorant and pompous nincompoop! + +But the satisfaction of making this discovery had a bitter taste. I did +not know what to do. My mind was in a whirl. I had some few letters and +papers in my pockets by which I had expected--after a time--to assure +the consul of my identity. But it seemed that I wasn't to be given a +chance to explain who and what I was. + +Somebody had been ahead of me. Some person unknown had represented me +before the consul and had, it appeared, made good. My money and my +letters had been turned over to this person---- + +"Paul Downes for a dollar bill!" I ejaculated. "It can't be anybody +else. Who else would know enough about me to represent himself as Clint +Webb? He probably knew all about the money and letters. He got away from +home broke, worked his passage out here got here only a few hours before +I did, and he has beaten me to the consul. Whatever shall I do?" + +It was not that I was entirely helpless, although I had only a dollar +in my pocket. Captain Rogers was to pay me the hundred dollars he had +promised me at the end of the whaling voyage, if I decided not to return +to the Scarboro. Ben Gibson was sick in the hospital, and old Tom and I +were both dependent upon him for our board money. I didn't propose to be +an object of charity. But I must confess that what I _did_ mean to do +had not as yet formed itself rationally in my mind when I got back to +old Maria Debora's. + +Tom was out somewhere seeing the sights. He had not gone with me to the +consul's office. Supper time came before the old man showed up and I sat +down among the first of the boarders. They were a cosmopolitan lot, +rough seamen from several quarters of the globe. They spoke half a dozen +different languages and dialects. + +I sat with my back to the door, and was only aware of the entrance of +another party of men by the noise and stir behind me. + +"Will you pass down a dish of those beans mate?" I had just called above +the hubbub, speaking to a man across the table. + +Instantly somebody stepped quickly behind my chair. A hand came down +heavily on my shoulder. + +"By all the e-tar-nal snakes!" ejaculated a nasal voice. "I knew I +couldn't be mistaken about that back. But the voice convinced me. By the +e-tar-nal snakes! Professor, how came you here?" + +I turned slowly to see who had thus addressed me. It was a tall +individual at my side--long legged, very lean, and when he laughed it +sounded like a horse neighing. He was so very tall that I had not raised +my eyes far enough to see his face before he spoke again. + +"Professor! ye sartainly give me a start. By the e-tar-nal snakes! I +could have taken my dying oath you wasn't north o' the cape o' the +Virgins. What you doin' yere in Maria Debora's?" + +It began to be impressed on my mind with force that I was a good deal +like the little old woman of the nursery rhyme. I wondered whether this +was really me, or was it not me? My identity as Clinton Webb had been +denied at the consul's, and here a perfect stranger was calling me out +of my name--and he seemed insistent upon it, too! + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + +IN WHICH I GET ACQUAINTED WITH CAPTAIN ADONIRAM TUGG + + +The face I finally saw at the top of that beanpole figure was as long as +the moral law. Such a lank, cadaverous visage I don't think I had ever +seen before. The man was a human lath. + +And so bronzed and toughened was his hide that he looked to be made out +of sole-leather. His mouth was a grim, post-box slit; his nose was a +high beak with such a hump on it that I thought it had been broken; but +his eyes were human--gray-blue, twinkling with innumerable humorous +wrinkles at the outer corners. + +"By the e-tar-nal snakes!" he ejaculated when I had tipped back my head +so that he could really see my face. "You ain't the Professor at all! +Why, you're a boy!" + +"I am not your friend, the Professor," I admitted. + +"And the voice!" he muttered, staring down at me. "It's his voice. I +ain't put in my winters with him this last dozen years and more to be +mistook in his voice. Say, boy, who be you?" + +"Clint Webb is my name," I replied. + +"Where do you hail from?" + +"Massachusetts. Late of the Scarboro whaling bark." + +"How old be you?" + +"Going on seventeen." + +"Well," he puffed, with a windy sigh, "you look behind enough like the +Professor to be him. And your voice is jest like his--that I'll swear +to! You must be some related." + +"I don't know that we've any scientists in the family," I said, with a +laugh. I rather liked the long-legged individual. + +"Don't know nobody named Vose?" he asked. + +"No-o. Don't think I do." + +He slumped down upon the bench beside me and helped himself to beans. + +"By the e-tar-nal snakes!" he muttered. "It does completely +flabergasticate me--I do assure you! I never saw two folks so near +alike, back-to! You'd oughter see the Professor." + +"I would be only too happy," I said, politely. + +I was interested in my new acquaintance, but not particularly in his +friend whom I appeared to favor. He told me in the course of the meal a +good deal about himself; and it was interesting, his story. + +He was called Captain Adoniram Tugg, a Connecticut Yankee, and skipper +of a two-stick schooner called the Sea Spell. He followed an odd +business. He was a wild animal trapper, and gathered Natural History +specimens of many kinds for museums and menageries. He had just disposed +of his last season's catch, had shipped the last specimen northward by +steamship, and was about to sail for the Straits of Magellan again, near +which he had his headquarters. + +"To tell you the truth, the Professor and me are partners. He's an odd +stick," quoth Captain Tugg, after supper, as we sat on the broad step +before Maria Debora's door, and he smoked the native cheroots while I +listened. "He ain't been in a civilized town like this since I've knowed +him. For a l'arned chap, and a New Englander, he seems to have lost all +curiosity, and, I reckon, he's got a grouch on the rest of mankind." + +"How long did you say you had known him?" I asked, idly. + +"All of twelve year. He come to my camp one day. Just walked up to the +door like he'd come here and knock. But I didn't suppose there was +another white man within five hundred miles--'nless he was aboard some +craft beating through the straits. + +"He was civil spoken enough; but he never would open up. Most fellows +meeting that sort o' way," continued Captain Tugg, puffing reflectively, +"would git chummy. The Professor's never told me a thing about himself. +As fur as I know he was born full growed, right there on the rocks where +my shanty's built, and ain't got kith nor kin--fam'bly or enemy--just as +lonely as Adam was in Eden before the trouble began! + +"Yet," said the captain, "to look at the Professor, you'd know there was +never nothing crooked about his partner. And I have--but nothing about +his past. Only I'm willing to put up real money that whatever happened +to Professor Vose was something that was caused by no fault of his. He's +always been sad. Never heard him laugh. He's the kindest man ye ever +see, son. And if one o' them Injun's sick, or the like, he treats 'em +like a sure-'nough hospital sawbones. + +"Then he is a physician?" I asked suddenly. + +"I reckon he's most anything that a man kin l'arn out o' books," +declared Captain Tugg. "He sent by me to Buenos Ayres here, first trip I +made after we'd gone partners in the animal biz, for the greatest old +outfit of drugs and the like you ever see. The natives come flockin' to +him for miles an' miles. He's one big medicine man, all right, all +right!" + +"And I look like him?" I queried. + +"By the e-tar-nal snakes! you sartainly favor him, son," declared the +captain, enthusiastically. "Why! ye might be his son. Got the same +features. The Professor keeps clean shaven. Hair like him, too, now I +looks at ye. And your voice--Well! it does beat all how near like him +you be. Sure you ain't got no relative named Vose?" + +"How do you know his name is Vose?" I asked, my voice trembling a +little, for the old mystery of my father's disappearance had swept in +upon my soul again and I was shaken to the depths. + +"Wal! I swear now! I never thought of that. I s'pose he might never +have told me his real name," said Tugg. + +The whole story took hold of me as it had when Tom Anderly told me of +the man that had been picked up by the coaster, Sally Smith, off +Bolderhead Neck some fourteen or fifteen years before. Tom had said +nothing about the man looking like me; but of course, Tom didn't know +the man long--only until the coaster reached New York City. And his name +had been Carver--or so the Unknown had said. This Captain Tugg had been +partners with the man he called the Professor for twelve years. Long +enough to know his peculiarities and to recognize in my build, and in +the tones of my voice, things that reminded him strongly of his partner. + +And I had been told, often enough, that I had my father's stature and +his very tone of voice and manner of speaking! + +But hold on! there was another way to make connection between the flying +strands of this seemingly absurd story. I turned to Captain Tugg calmly. + +"By the way, sir," I said, "do you ever run around to Santiago?" + +"Valparaiso, you mean, son?" he returned. "That's the seaport." + +"I mean Santiago, Chili." + +"Why, pshaw! I _have_ been to the capital once--three or four years +ago." + +"What for, sir--if I'm not too curious? You see, I've a reason for +asking," I said. + +"I reckon so," he returned, eyeing me grimly. "And I've a reason for +not telling you. Private business." + +"I don't mean to be too 'nosey,'" I returned. "But I'll ask you another +question. If it hasn't anything to do with your private business, you'll +answer me?" + +"Let drive," he commanded, thoughtfully smoking. + +"When you were in Santiago three or four years ago----" + +"Come to think of it, it was five year back," interrupted the captain. + +"All right," I said. "Did you at that time mail a letter for Professor +Vose from that town?" + +Captain Tugg smote his knee suddenly. "By the e-tar-nal snakes!" he +ejaculated. "Now you remind me." + +"Did you?" I asked, eagerly. + +"Only letter I ever knowed him to write. He gave it to me before I +started in the Sea Spell. Yes, sir. I mailed it there, for it was among +my papers, and I forgot it when we touched at Conception, and again when +we put in at Valparaiso." + +"Was that letter addressed to Tom Anderly, at the office of Radnor & +Blunt, in New York--a firm of shipping merchants?" + +"You win!" ejaculated Captain Tugg. "I memorized that address. Have to +admit I've always been cur'ous about the Professor. You know him?" + +"No, sir," I said. "But I believe there's a man here in town who does. +Or, at least knows something about him," I added, as I remembered how +very little Tom Anderly really knew about the man who had been picked up +in the fog off Bolderhead Neck. + +"I'd like to see that feller," said Tugg. + +"And I'd like mightily to see your Professor," said I. + +Tugg looked at me thoughtfully. "Got a job?" he asked. + +"I'm not sure that I shall wait for the Scarboro," I replied. "We come +in with our second mate who was hurt by a whale. He's in hospital. I +have got about all the whaling I want, I believe." + +"I'll give ye a job aboard the Sea Spell." + +"I'll think of that," said I, quickly. + +"You'll not think long, son," drawled Captain Tugg, grimly. "We get away +on the morning tide." + +The suggestion startled me. I felt a drawing toward Captain Adoniram +Tugg and his schooner. Rather, I had a strong desire to see the man whom +he called his partner--the man who had given his name as Carver on the +Sally Smith, but was now known to Tugg as "Professor Vose." I was in a +fret of uncertainty. + + + + +CHAPTER XXV + +IN WHICH I FOLLOW THE BECKONING FINGER OF A SPECTRE + + +I shall never forget that evening as I sat beside Captain Adoniram Tugg +on Maria Debora's portico. From the street, which was well down toward +the water-front, rose all manner of smells and noises; most of them were +unpleasant. Sailors in foreign ports have to put up with a lot of +discomfort and are thrown among the most objectionable people and endure +more hardships of a different kind than are handed to them aboard +ship--and that's saying a good deal! + +It was a warm night, too, and there were crowds on the street. A +confusion of different dialects came up to me and it was only now and +then that I heard an English word spoken. But these impressions came to +me quite unconsciously at the time. I had a problem--and a hard one--to +solve. + +I had really not recovered from the shock I had received at the American +consul's. My money and letters were gone. Paul Downes had represented +himself as me and had got away with the money with which I had expected +to pay my passage home. But, of course, I really was not in great +straights for means of getting back to Bolderhead. + +With the experience I had had upon the whaling bark, and with my +physique, I knew very well that I could obtain a berth on either a +sailing or a steam vessel bound for the northern ports. I could work my +way home after a fashion. Besides, I could sell my sloop for almost +enough money to pay for a first-class passage to Boston on a Bayne +Liner. + +To tell the truth, I was more troubled by the loss of my letters than I +was by the loss of my money. I was anxious about my mother--anxious to +know how she had endured the shock of my absence, what her present +condition was, and all about affairs at home. Besides, there might have +been private information in those letters that I wouldn't want Paul +Downes to learn. + +My rascally cousin had certainly set out on a career worthy of a pirate! +He had run away from home--and probably because he was afraid of +punishment for his crimes--and here in Buenos Ayres, so far from +Bolderhead, had begun a new career of wrong-doing. + +"He certainly is a bad egg!" I thought. + +But it wasn't upon Paul Downes that my mind lingered long. My cousin had +played me a scurvy trick; but I was not made helpless by it. I could get +home after a fashion--if I wanted to. And that was my problem! Did I +want to go home? + +Until I had talked with this Captain Tugg I thought I had had my fill of +adventure and sea-roving. But his story of the man who had been his +partner for twelve years--the man who looked and spoke like me--had +wheeled my mind square about! Instead of being headed north in my +thoughts, I was at once headed south. _I wanted to see this Professor +Vose!_ + +Yes. Spectre though the man was--will-o'-the-wisp as he seemed--I +desired above all else to see and speak with this man whom Tom Anderly +called "Carver" and Captain Tugg knew as "Professor Vose." If my father, +Dr. Webb, was alive _he_ would be a man with a mysterious past! I wanted +to come face to face with this man whom Tugg said was so much like me. + +"Where are you going from here when your Sea Spell sails, Captain Tugg?" +I asked the Yankee animal collector. + +"Goin' to make the Straits," drawled he. "Goin' right back to +headquarters for a bit. Mebbe we'll keep the old schooner in +commission--I'm taking down light cargo for headquarters now. But I +leave most of the actual snarin' and trappin' of the critters to the +Injuns--and to the Professor. I got some black fellers down there that +would take a prize in a circus sideshow themselves. One of 'em's over +seven foot tall. And strong as wolves," declared Captain Tugg. + +"If I went with you, what would you give me a month?" + +"Sixteen dollars--in silver," he said, promptly. "I see you've got +eddication--you'd be handy. I could trust you with the schooner after a +v'yge or two. I got a good navigator, Pedro, my mate; but he can't talk +or write English worth a cent." + +"But suppose I shouldn't want to remain with you?" I suggested. + +"You kin come back here, then. Plenty of steamers comin' through the +straits that touch at Buenos Ayres. My headquarters is at the head of +navigable water about a hundred miles north of the Straits. An inlet and +river makes in there. It's a wild country, but I've made out to live +thereabout for nigh onto fifteen year--and the Professor's stood it for +better than twelve. I can put you in the way of makin' better money in +time." + +But I was not listening to all he said. I suddenly put in: + +"Your schooner is going right to your headquarters now?" + +"Yes, sir!" + +"And that is where this Professor stays?" + +"When he ain't up country trapping critters." + +If you have read thus far in my story you will have discovered one thing +about me, if nothing else. I was impulsive--ridiculously impulsive. My +bump of imagination was big, too. Otherwise the idea that my father was +roaming about the world instead of being peacefully asleep somewhere at +the bottom of the sea off Bolderhead, would never have gained such a +strong hold upon me. + +And my impulsiveness urged me to accept the story of this Professor +Vose--as related by Captain Tugg--as something of vital importance to +myself. Here I was at Buenos Ayres, not many weeks' sail from the place +where the mysterious Professor was to be found. On the other hand, it +was plainly my duty to make for home by the quickest route possible. + +Duty and inclination were at daggers' drawn again. I told myself that as +long as there was a possibility that the mysterious Professor might be +my lost father, I should take up with this offer of Captain Tugg. I +might never be able to find this man of mystery if I did not sail on the +Sea Spell when she slipped away from Buenos Ayres. + +"It's my chance!" I thought. "I can go home if there proves to be +nothing in the venture. Why! I might take a steamship right at the +Straits for some United States port. It's my chance! I'll do it." + +And so--as I had many times before--I came to a reckless conclusion and +went into a venture the end of which was mighty misty! I suddenly turned +to the lathlike Yankee and told him that I would take up with his offer, +and we shook hands upon the compact. + +But once I had entered into the agreement I found I had a hundred things +to do and little time to do it in. Old Tom Anderly had not come back to +the boarding house and I could not wait for him to appear. Captain Tugg +was already thinking of loafing along to the dock where his two-stick +schooner was moored. I bundled up my dunnage and went with him. + +"You'll take second mate's berth, son," said the long-legged Yankee. +"Not that you're fit for it, and I'll have to be on deck jest as much as +ever; but I can't put a white man for'ard with that bilin' of +off-scourin's I've got for a crew. I can trust Pedro; but there isn't +another man of the crew that I'd trust as far as I could sling a +barge-load o' bricks! + +"You've the makin's of a smart sailor in you--I can see that," pursued +the Captain. "And you say you've begun studying navigation?" + +"I picked up some aboard the Scarboro, listening to Captain Hi and Ben +Gibson." + +"We'll make a mate of you in a year or two," said Captain Tugg, +confidently. + +But that speech shocked me. I had no intention of following the sea a +year or two. I meant just then to sail down to this place Tugg told +about and take a look at the Professor individual. That's all I wanted. +Then it would be "homeward bound" for me. + +We reached the schooner and I found her a nice looking craft, bright and +shining, with new sails bent on and a scraped and oiled deck and pretty +sticks in her. She's been rigged new throughout and looked more like a +yacht than a coasting vessel knocking about the southern trades. + +I had left a note at Maria Debora's for old Tom, and another for him to +give Ben Gibson. I had some things to buy, and several of them were by +Captain Tugg's advice. He advanced me money for my purchases, and they +included a second-hand Winchester and a revolver. + +"We're going to a wild piece of airth, son," said the animal trapper. + +Then I saw the man (he was an American) with whom we had left my sloop. +He agreed to look after her and keep her in repair for her use, so +_that_ matter was settled. And then I did something that my conscience +told me I should have attended to the moment I arrived in Buenos Ayres. +I took five dollars of the sum I had drawn ahead on my wages and sent a +short cable to my mother. It told her nothing but the fact that I was +alive and well. + +But that night, before it came time for me to hustle on deck and help +get the Sea Spell under way, I spent writing letters to Ham Mayberry and +Mr. Hounsditch. I gave them both the particulars of my treatment at the +consul's office and my knowledge of Paul Downes' presence at Buenos +Ayres and the trick I believed he had played upon me. Of the venture I +had now started upon in the Sea Spell I spoke only in a general way. But +I promised them I would be back in Buenos Ayres, or on my way home, +within a very few months. + +These letters went off to the mail on the tug that towed the schooner +out of the tangle of shipping. We made sail in half an hour and the Sea +Spell made a good leg to windward, beginning her voyage into the +south--a voyage on which I was following the beckoning finger of a +spectre. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI + +IN WHICH THE SEA SPELL GOES ASHORE ON A MOST UNFRIENDLY COAST + + +I learned a whole lot beside seamanship during those next few weeks as +the schooner Sea Spell coasted Buenos Ayres Province and the vast +Colonial Territory of Magellan. A stretch of nearly a thousand miles we +had to sail to reach the Cape of the Virgins, behind which is the +entrance to the Magellan Straits. + +The coastwise trade between the ports below Buenos Ayres--Bahia Blanca, +El Carmen on the Rio Negro, Port St. Antonio at at the head of the Gulf +of St. Matias, San Josefpen, Por Malaspina, Santa Cruz, and clear around +to the Pacific seaports of Chili--this coastwise trade, I say, is almost +like the trade along our Atlantic seaboard. Inland, Tugg told me, there +were vast pampasses empty of all but cattle and wild beasts and some +tribes of wild men; but a strip of the seacoast south of the mouth of +the Silver River is being rapidly developed. + +There are great rivers emptying into the sea here,--the Cobu Leofu, Rio +Negro, the Balchitas, the Chupat Desire and Rio Chico--all water-ways +which are opening up the country. Argentina is as large as all Eastern +and Central Europe together and is enormously rich in mineral and +natural products. + +This information was brought home to me as, day after day, and with +favorable gales, the Sea Spell winged her way southward. She was a +fairly fast sailing ship and Captain Adoniram Tugg evidently took pride +in her. But her crew was all that he had given me reason to believe. A +dirtier, more ungovernable gang of penny cut-throats I doubt never +sailed on any honest ship! + +I soon learned, beside all the above about Argentina's coast trade, that +Tugg kept his seamen at work through fear. He never changed his drawl in +speaking; but when he gave an order there was a grimness about his mouth +and a flash in his gray-blue eyes that gave one a cold, creepy feeling +in the region of the spine. I don't know that Captain Tugg went armed. +But if an order had been neglected by any man aboard I had the feeling +that a weapon would appear in the skipper's hand and that the mutineer +would have dropped in his tracks! + +Pedro, the mate, was a snaky, dusky fellow, with huge rings of gold in +his ears and a smile that showed altogether too many teeth to be +pleasant--a regular alligator smile. As far as I could see, I would just +as lief have Pedro's ill feeling as his friendship. Yet Tugg trusted him +implicitly. But I--I locked my stateroom door whenever I lay down to +sleep; and I kept the Winchester and the Colts revolver loaded all the +time. Perhaps I was foolish; but I felt that we were in a state of war. + +The routine duties of the schooner kept me at work, however, for I +tried to earn my sixteen a month. Tugg was a good navigator himself. He +handled his schooner like a professional yachtsman. Captain Rogers would +have admired the man, for he was another skipper who did not believe in +lying hove to no matter how hard the wind blew. There was a week at a +stretch when I didn't get thoroughly dry between watches. The Sea Spell +just about flew over the water instead of through it! + +But a calm fell thereafter and we lay for eighteen hours in the Bay of +St. George, the sails hanging dead with not a breath of wind, and the +sea like glass. We were within two rifle shots of the shore at one +point. Behind this point of rocks was an inlet and the pool made good +anchorage without doubt, for there were several sail there, and a jumble +of huts on the shore. + +We had seen whales for several days and once passed a whaleship at work +trying out; but it was not the Scarboro. Now a great whale swam calmly +past the Sea Spell, nosing in toward the land, probably following some +school of tiny fish upon which he was feeding. + +"Wisht I had a crew of bully boys to go after that critter," sighed +Captain Tugg, behind his long cheroot. "He'll make more'n a bucket o' +ile, you bet!" + +"You wouldn't want to litter up your tidy schooner with grease, sir," +said I, in wonder. + +"Mebbe not; mebbe not. But money's good wherever you find it, and that +critter is wuth two or three thousand dollars. By the e-tar-nal snakes!" +he added, using his favorite expletive, "I'd love to stick an iron in +that carcass." + +I knew that Adoniram Tugg had been almost everything in the line of +sea-going and was not surprised to find that he had driven the iron into +many a whale. We stood swapping experiences, idly watching the big +whale. The creature sounded and remained down twenty or thirty minutes. +When he came up he spouted three times in quick succession, and then lay +basking on the surface. + +"Looker there!" exclaimed Captain Tugg, suddenly. "By the e-tar-nal +snakes! looker there!" + +He was pointing at the whale. Up towards its head, on the port side, +there appeared on the water a long tail, or fin, at right angles with +the whale. + +"What in tarnation d'ye s'pose that critter is?" demanded Captain Tugg. + +The thing was all of four and twenty feet long, about two wide at the +upper end, and tapering to eighteen inches. Almost at once the living +club was elevated in the air and then was flung down across the whale's +back--just behind where the head was attached to its body--with a noise +like a signal gun. + +"Will ye looker that now!" bawled the Captain, in wonder. + +Again and again the monstrous club rose and descended. The great whale +leaped like a beaten horse under the rain of blows; but whichever way +it turned, it could not shake off its assailant. The operator of that +club seemed to have it under perfect control, and likewise had means of +keeping up with the victim no matter in which direction, or how fast, +the latter swam. The blows fell only a few seconds apart, and the whale +finally sounded to escape them. + +But when he came up again, there was the mysterious enemy, hanging to +the whale like a bull dog, and the beating re-commenced. The sea about +the hectored whale was tinged with blood. The creature's back was +lacerated frightfully and without any doubt whatsoever, it was being +beaten to death by its antagonist. + +Tugg grew greatly excited, and ordered a boat lowered. We took four +sailors and left Pedro in command of the becalmed schooner, and rowed +off towards the scene of the battle between the whale and the mysterious +fish. + +"It must be some kind of a huge ray," I suggested. "That's the tail that +is being used like a club." + +"By the e-tar-nal snakes!" exploded Tugg, "it's a different kind of a +sea-bat from anything I ever seed or heard of. You take it from me, +that's a sea-sarpint, or wuss!" + +The whale was evidently at its last gasp when we left the schooner. It +soon rolled over on its side. The mysterious flail stopped beating the +huge body and the water seemed churned excitedly at the nose of the +leviathan. + +"The porpoises have got at it," I suggested. + +"Not much they ain't," returned Captain Tugg. "There ain't no porpoises +around today. Whatever the critter is that killed the whale, it's at +dinner now." + +And it was true. The mysterious denizen of the deep that had beaten the +whale to death, ate out the huge mammal's tongue and had sunk again into +the sea before we rowed near enough to distinguish its shape or size. It +had disappeared as mysteriously as it had risen and seemingly all it had +killed the mammal for was to eat its tongue. + +Captain Tugg's eye glistened when he saw the proportions of that whale +closer to. He stood up, looked long towards the inlet where there seemed +to be some movement among the craft anchored there, and then ordered us +to row in close to the whale's tail. + +He passed a hawser around the narrow part of the whale just forward of +the tail and then ordered the men to pull for the schooner. It was a +tug, now I tell you! but we got the whale to the Sea Spell after a +while. I expected to see the spick and span schooner all messed up with +try-out works, and grease, and smoke. It disgusted me that the Yankee +skipper should be so sharp after the Almighty Dollar. But I didn't yet +know Captain Adoniram Tugg. + +I saw that a number of craft had started out of the inlet--a much +puffing steam tug ahead, drawing several smaller boats behind it. There +was no wind at all, so the fleet approached slowly, and we had the +whale tackled to the Sea Spell, fore and aft, before the tug was very +near. + +We made no immediate attempt to butcher the whale and I took pains to +get some of its dimensions. It was eighty-two feet over all in length +and nearly sixty feet around the biggest part of the body. The lower jaw +was nineteen and one-half feet long and the tail, when it was expanded, +measured twenty-three feet. I suppose, through the thickest part of the +body it must have been as many feet as the expanded tail was wide; at +least, so it appeared. These measurements will give the reader some idea +of what these huge mammals look like. And Captain Tugg had not been far +out of the way when he declared the whale to be worth two thousand +dollars. + +"What you got to run oil into, sir?" I asked, curiously. + +"Wait a bit; wait a bit," returned the Yankee, puffing on his cheroot. +"Let's see what these Yaller-skins have to offer. If we hadn't tailed +onto the whale as we did they'd had their hooks in it by this time." + +A few words in Spanish to Pedro had stirred up the mate and crew of the +Sea Spell. They seemed wonderfully busy getting a lot of gear and litter +upon deck. The uninitiated might have thought that we were getting ready +to cut up the whale and boil down the blubber in the most approved +style. + +Finally a man aboard the tug hailed us. Captain Tugg answered in +Spanish, and an excited conversation ensued--at least, excited upon the +side of the man aboard the steam vessel and his compatriots. The skipper +of the Sea Spell seemed particularly calm and unshaken. I could +understand but little of the talk, although I had begun to pick up the +bastard Spanish spoken along the coast. I knew the Yankee and the dagos +were bargaining. + +Finally Tugg sang out to Pedro to belay the work he and the crew were +engaged in, and to lower a boat again. The captain was rowed to the tug +and after some further conversation I saw certain moneys counted out and +paid over to the master of the Sea Spell. He was then rowed back and +when he was aboard he ordered the dead whale cast off. + +"And git some of your watch down there, Pedro," added Captain Tugg, "and +swab the grease off her side. Ugh! There ain't nothing nastier than a +whale." + +"Yet you were going to cut her up?" I suggested, curiously. + +He favored me with a wink. "Buncome, Bluff," he murmured. "That little +play-acting turned me two hundred dollars in gold. Our lying becalmed +here wasn't such a bad thing after all--and here comes the breeze. Jest +like finding money in an old coat, Mr. Webb--that's what that was." + +And so the shrewd old fellow turned everything to account. We got a +breeze and were out of sight of the place before the small craft had got +the big whale towed into the inlet--where they would beach it and cut +it up. Captain Adoniram Tugg was two hundred dollars in pocket, and just +because some mysterious sea-beast had seen fit to kill a whale for its +tongue! + +We had a fine breeze after the long calm, but nothing but fair weather +until we rounded the Cape of the Virgins. There the broad entrance of +the magnificent Straits of Magellan lay before the nose of the schooner. +A little later we had furled all but the topsails and were sailing due +north into an inlet masked by many dangerous looking reefs. The mate of +the Sea Spell, Pedro, seemed to know the channel well, however, and +although Adoniram Tugg remained on deck he did not seem to be worried at +all about the schooner's safety. + +"We'll drop anchor before morning," he told me. "That is, if the wind +holds in the same quarter. You'll have a chance to see what sort of a +good fellow the Professor is tomorrow." + +"What! are we so near your headquarters?" + +"That's the checker," returned Tugg. "Just a short sail now." + +The inlet was never more than a mile wide; in places the rocks crowded +in toward the channel until a strong man could have flung a stone from +shore to shore. The waterway was really a series of quiet salt pools. + +The shores were wild and rugged. I had never seen a more forbidding +coast. When the night dropped down upon us--as it did suddenly, and a +starless sky o'er-head--I wondered how Pedro could smell his way +through. I heard Tugg roaring something in Spanish about "the beacon" +and then a spark of fire flared out in the darkness far ahead. It looked +like a stationary lamp and burned brightly. The captain came over to me, +chuckling. + +"That's my partner's light," he said, with satisfaction. "He rigged that +beacon, and it's lit every night that the Sea Spell is on a cruise. +Pedro can work the schooner up the inlet by that light without rubbing a +hair." + +And so we sailed on, and on, without a thought of danger until, of a +sudden, I felt the schooner jar throughout her whole length. Captain +Tugg jumped and yelled to Pedro: + +"What in tarnation you doin', numbskull? Hi, one o' you boys! git into +the chains with the lead." + +But before the man could sound the Sea Spell grounded again, and this +time she ran her keel upon a sand bank so solidly that she stopped dead, +with the sails above cracking! There was a hullabaloo for a few minutes, +now I tell you. Shouts, commands, the grinding of the schooner's keel, +the slatting of sails. The Sea Spell had driven so hard and fast upon +the shoal that she canted neither to port, or starboard. And although +the sea was still so that she would not be beaten by the waves, it +looked much to me as though she were piled up on this unfriendly coast +for good and all! + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII + +IN WHICH WE FIND THE NATIVES MORE UNFRIENDLY THAN THE COAST + + +The bright light ahead had disappeared. Tugg was berating Pedro for +getting off his course and running the schooner aground. In a minute, +however, another light flashed up nearby and I saw that a huge bonfire +had been kindled on the shore not more than a cable's length away. + +"What in the e-tar-nal snakes is that?" bawled Captain Adoniram Tugg, +seeing this fire. "That ain't the Professor--not a bit of it." + +In a minute the flames rose so high that we could see figures moving in +the light of them. And wild enough figures they were--half naked +fellows, taller than ordinary men, and waving spears and clubs. + +"I believe some of your Patagonian giants you have been telling me about +have gone on the warpath, Captain," I said. + +"Not a bit of it! Not a bit of it," he snarled. "They're as tame as +tiger-kittens." + +"Just the same I'm going to get my gun and pistol," I declared, and I +dove below. + +When I came back to the deck two more fires were burning. The +shore--which was a low bluff--was illuminated for some hundreds of +yards. There was a gang of a hundred or more dancing savages about the +fires. I was frightened; those savages were not "gentled" enough to suit +me. + +The captain and Pedro had evidently come to a decision. The fires +revealing the coast as they did showed them where the mistake had been +made. Tugg said: + +"Can't blame Pedro. That beacon lantern we saw had been shifted. I hope +those wretches yonder haven't got the Professor foul. But one thing is +sure: They brought that big lantern clear across the inlet and set it up +on the west shore. No wonder we ran aground. It was a pretty trick, I do +allow." + +"And these are the natives you told me were perfectly harmless?" + +"Not my boys," said Tugg. "There are wild tribes about, as I told you. +This bilin' of trouble-makers are from up country. I'm dreadful afraid +they've attacked the camp first and put the Professor and my boys out of +the way. They must have been on the lookout for the Sea Spell. Had +sentinels posted along shore. They want to loot her." + +"And it looks to me as though they'd do it," I observed. "I never shot +at a man, Captain; but I am going to begin shooting if those dancing +dervishes start to come off to us in those big canoes I see there." + +"Don't begin to shoot too quick, Mr. Webb," said the Yankee skipper. "I +reckon we'll be able to handle them all right." + +"But your crew isn't armed." + +"You bet they ain't. And me with more than two thousand in gold +aboard?" he snorted. "By the e-tar-nal snakes! I guess they ain't armed. +I wouldn't trust 'em with firearms." + +I began to feel pretty bad. I knew they were a murderous looking lot of +fellows; but I didn't suppose that Tugg traveled in such peril all the +time. I was learning a whole lot for a boy of my age. To be adventuring +about the world "on the loose" as old Tom Anderly called it, had seemed +a mighty fine thing. But just at that moment, with the schooner shaking +on the shoal, the fires flaring on the beach, and the savages dancing +and yelling at us, I would have given a good deal to have been where I +could call a policeman! + +But Adoniram Tugg showed no particular fear. I was the only person who +had a weapon on deck. The Yankee skipper did not even go down for his +own gun that hung over his stateroom door. Instead, he turned to Pedro +and gave a quick command. + +The mate and two of the sailors dashed for the forward hatch and had it +off in a minute. Tugg turned to me again, drawling just the same as +usual: + +"Keep a thing seven year, they say, and it's bound to come handy, no +matter what it is. I bought a miscellaneous lot o' truck out o' a +seaside store thar in Buenos Ayres because there was a right good +chronometer went with the lot. Ah! that's the box, Pedro. Rip it +open--but have a care. Don't bring fire near it--hey! you there with +the cigaroot! Throw it away. You want to blow yourself to everylastin' +bliss?" + +"They're manning those canoes, Captain!" I shouted, for my attention was +pretty closely fixed upon the savages. + +"Let 'em come!" he grunted. "We'll fix 'em, Mr. Webb; we'll fix 'em." + +There were four large canoes. I heard Tugg whispering to himself about +them as he watched the half-naked paddlers urging them toward the +schooner: + +"Ugly mugs. From up river. Come three or four hundred miles in them +canoes, mebbe. Wisht I knew what has happened the Professor. They +sartainly have cleaned our headquarters, or they wouldn't have displaced +that beacon lantern." Then he turned to urge Pedro. "Got that mess o' +stuff out o' the box? That's it. Now, Mr. Webb, never mind them guns o' +yourn. Put 'em down and bear a hand here." + +He was the skipper and I obeyed; but I hated to give up the rifle. It +looked to me as though we were in for a hand-to-hand fight with the +savages--and they really were giants. I had read of these Patagonians; +but I had never more than half believed the stories they told about +them. I could realize now that any fifty of them one might see in a +crowd together would average--as the books said--six feet, four inches +in height. + +As I came forward he was rapidly distributing--he and Pedro--the +articles which had been packed in the box. He gave half a dozen to each +man of the crew. He likewise broke up lengths of slow-matches--that +Chinese punk that is usually used when fireworks are set off. And it was +fireworks he was giving me--half a dozen good-sized rockets! + +"What shall we do with these?" I demanded. "Why, Captain Tugg! you don't +mean to illuminate the schooner? Those savages will pin us with their +spears if we light up here." + +He spoke first to the crew, and they ran at once and crouched under the +bulwarks on that side nearest the shore. The canoes were within a +hundred yards. + +"Quick!" he said to me. "Start the first rocket fuse. Lay it on the rail +here, son, and aim it at them canoes. We'll pepper them skunks--now, +won't we?" + +All along the line of the rail I heard the fuses sputtering. Little +sparks of blue and crimson flame shot into view. "Let 'em go!" bawled +Adroniam Tugg. + +The four canoes came fairly bounding over the water. I never knew that +canoes could be paddled so rapidly. They were almost upon the schooner +when the first rocket went off with a terrible sputter. It shot like a +bird of fire right into the leading canoe, and then another, and +another, shot off until the air between the schooner and the canoes +seemed filled with shooting flames. + +The savages' yells changed monstrously quick. When the rockets began to +blow up and sprinkle around balls of red and blue and green fire, the +boats were emptied in a moment or two. Wildly shrieking, the naked +savages sprang overboard and swam back toward land, while we along the +rail of the Sea Spell sent broadside after broadside of rockets after +them. + +We saw them splash through the shoal water, gain the land, and disappear +beyond the illumination of the fires before all our skyrockets were used +up. + +"Avast firin'!" roared Captain Tugg, and Pedro, the mate, repeated the +order in Spanish. "Now out with a boat, Pedro, and save those canoes. +They'll come in handy for our use." + +No matter what the situation might be, the Yankee could not lose sight +of the main chance. We gathered in those canoes and then awaited +daylight before we made any further move. We found then that the savages +had totally disappeared. + +"We can warp her off and I doubt if she's damaged at all," declared +Captain Tugg. "But I'm too worried about the Professor to begin that +now. I'm going to leave Pedro here and we'll take some of the boys and +sail up to headquarters and see what's happened there. You can bring +your hardware, Mr. Webb. We may have need of it after all, for if +they've troubled the Professor, I swanny I'll shoot some of the +long-legged rascals!" + +What I had read of white men in wild countries had led me to believe +that they usually shot the savages first and inquired into their +intentions afterward. But Captain Tugg assured me that in the fifteen +years he had been in this country he had never been obliged to more than +string a few savages up by their thumbs and ropes-end them! + +"They've been ugly at times--not my boys around here, but some of the +far, up-country tribes--and I've been obliged to show them things. I'm +kind of a wonder-worker, I be. Them scamps that waylaid us last night +will scatter the news of that fireworks show throughout ten townships, +and don't you forgit it. Jest because Adoniram Tugg can show 'em +something new ev'ry time is what's kept his head on his shoulders for +fifteen years." + +"Goodness! they're not head-hunters?" said I. + +"No. But they'd take a white man's head and sell it to tribes farther +north that _do_ prize sech trophies. Oh, this ain't no country for +tenderfoots, son. There ain't no tract in the back-end of India, or the +middle of Africa, that's as barbarous as a good wide streak of South +America yet." + +And I could believe that later when, after sailing some miles up the +inlet, we came to the burned ruins of a collection of huts and sheds. +This was Tugg's headquarters, and his partner, Professor Vose, the man I +had come so far to see, was not there. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII + +IN WHICH ARE RELATED SEVERAL DISAPPOINTMENTS + + +The attack on the encampment of the animal trappers had evidently been +made several days before. The fire had devastated the place. All the +animals in cages had been killed or released. And in the blackened ruins +and about the clearing, on the rocks, there lay the bodies of more than +a dozen Patagonians. Tugg showed real feeling when he saw these dead +men. + +"Poor boys!" he muttered, standing leaning on his rifle and gazing upon +one fellow who was really a giant. "They was square, jest the same. Ye +see, they fought for the Professor and the traps. But them scoundrels +was too many for them." + +It was a dreadful sight. I do not want to write about it. Nor do I wish +to give the particulars of our search of the neighborhood for some trace +of the single white man who had been in the vicinity--the man whom Tugg +called the Professor, but who was the Man of Mystery to me. We found a +place where a huge fire had been built beneath the trees. There was a +green liana hanging from a high limb and the end of the liana had been +tied around the ankles of a man. The feet shod in American made boots +were all of that victim of the savages' cruelty which had not been +burned to ashes. + +"It's a way they have," whispered Tugg. "They start the poor feller +swinging like a pendulum, and every time he swings through the flames +he's burned a little more--and a little more----" + +I turned sick with the horror of it. There was nothing more to do. Tugg +recognized his partner's boots. The savages had made their raid, burned +the camp, destroyed all they could, and done their best to wreck the Sea +Spell. There must have been one traitor among Tugg's men at the +encampment or the savages would not have known of the schooner's +approach. At least, I shall always believe so. + +But when the balance of his Patagonians came in from the swamp where +they had hidden after the attack, the captain seemed to believe all +their stories, took them back into his confidence, and at once set to +work to repair the damage done by the up-river Indians. + +I confess that I was desperately disappointed. And I felt depressed, +too, over the death of the mysterious Professor Vose, or Carver, or +whatever his name had been. I could not get rid of the thought that +perhaps the man had been my father. But I should never know now, I told +myself. Whether it were so, or not I need have no doubt regarding my +poor father's death. If he had not been drowned off Bolderhead Neck, +and had been hidden away in this wilderness so many years, he had gone +to his account now. + +I was sorry I had come down here in the Sea Spell; but being here I had +to somewhat wait upon Captain Tugg's pleasure before I could get away. +We warped the Sea Spell off the shoal and found her uninjured. She had +scarcely started a plank. Then the animal trapper set us all to work +rebuilding his camp, animal cages, and stockade. We were three solid +months repairing the damage done by the savages; but then Tugg had a +camp that would be impregnable to the wild men from up the river. + +I had expressed to him at once my wish to return to the coast where I +could get a chance to work my way north in some vessel. But it was three +months before he could spare me a canoe crew to take me as far as Punta +Arenas, on the Straits. From that point I would be able to board some +vessel bound into the Atlantic, and if I could get back to Buenos Ayres +I would be all right. + +I had wasted nearly six months in following a will-o'-the-wisp. I might +have been at home long ago, had I not come down here on the schooner. +More than a year had passed since that September evening when my cousin, +Paul Downes, and I had had our fateful quarrel on my bonnie sloop, the +Wavecrest, as she beat slowly into the inlet at Bolderhead. I had +roved far afield since that time, had seen strange lands, and strange +peoples, and had endured hardship and hard work which--after all was +said and done--hadn't belonged to me. + +Clint Webb need not be knocking about the world, looking for a chance to +work his way home before the mast. As the canoe Tugg had lent me sailed +south through the inlet, with Pedro and two gigantic Patagonians for +crew, I milled these thoughts over in my mind, and determined that, once +at home, I'd stick there. Not that I was tired of the sea, or afraid of +work aboard ship; but I was deeply worried regarding my mother and what +might be happening to her so far away. + +Nothing but the desire to set eyes on the man that looked like me and +talked like me had brought me 'way down here in Patagonia; I had never +told Captain Tugg my real reason for shipping on the Sea Spell, not even +when I bade him good-bye. The old fellow had seemed really sorry to have +me go. + +"If you git tired of civilization and want to come down this way again, +son," he told me, "you'll be as welcome as can be. Just come here, walk +in, hang up your hat, and you'll find a job right at hand. I got a big +order for ant-eaters, jaguar, tiger-cats, and the like, on hand and I'll +likely be here for a couple of years--off and on. Goin' to be mighty +lonesome, too, without the Professor," he added, shaking his head, +sorrowfully. + +Tugg was a money-lover; but I know that he didn't hold the loss of his +animals and outfit as anything to be compared to the miserable end of +his partner. I liked him for _that_. + +I can't say that I enjoyed that canoe trip to the Straits. We had a +queer three-cornered sail that was rigged in some native way, and as the +wind was free we traveled the hundred or so miles to the mouth of the +inlet in good time. But I did not sleep much; Pedro and the giants might +easily knock me on the head, take my few dollars and my gun and other +traps, and drop me overboard. I couldn't believe that they were to be +trusted. + +But nothing really happened until we were within a mile or so of the +mouth of the long lagoon. I could see a bit of the strait and over the +rocky headland appeared a banner of smoke. It was from the stack of a +steamship bound east. I pointed it out to the mate of the Sea Spell and +told him how anxious I was to reach that very craft. I had money enough +left of my wages to pay my fare to Buenos Ayres at least--perhaps to +Bahia; and surely the steamship would stop somewhere along the east +coast. + +Pedro jabbered to the Patagonians, and the wind having fallen light they +got out the paddles and set to work. I showed them each a silver dollar +and they went at it like college athletes. Such paddling I never saw +before, and it seemed to me we shot out of the inlet about as fast as +though we were ironed to a bull whale! + +But we were too late. The steamship had a long sea-mile on us and she +wasn't stopping for a canoe. We should have to trim our sail again and +make for the West and Punta Arenas. As we swung the canoe's head around, +however, I caught sight of a big ship, with a wonderful lot of canvas +set, passing the steamship and heading our way. She sailed the straits +like a huge bird, her white canvas bellying from the deck to the extreme +points of her wand-like topmasts. She was a pretty sight. + +I began to stare back at her more and more as she came up, hand over +hand. I saw that she was a bark; then I saw that her crowsnest was +occupied by a lookout. Only one manner of craft would have a man in the +crowsnest on a clear day like this. She was a whaler. + +I had no glass; but I fixed my gaze upon her black bows as they rose and +fell as she came through the waves. My heart had begun to beat with +excitement. There were the huge white letters as she paid off a bit and +I could see part of her run and broadside. I couldn't be mistaken, and +suddenly I broke out with a loud cheer, for I could read the two painted +lines: + + SCARBORO + New Bedford + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX + +IN WHICH I AM NOT THE ONLY PERSON SURPRISED + + +I yelled to Pedro and then sprang up, tied a handkerchief to an oar and +waved it frantically. As the old bark swung down toward us I saw several +figures spring into the lower rigging, and by and by their hands waved +to me. I spoke again to the mate of the Sea Spell and he said he could +bring the canoe in close to the bark if they would throw me a rope. I +knew they had identified me, and I was glad to see Ben Gibson standing +on the rail and yelling to me. + +I gave each of the Patagonians a dollar and Pedro two, shook hands with +them all, slung my rifle over my shoulder, hooked one arm through my +dunnage-bag (which was fortunately waterproof) and stood ready to seize +the rope which was flung me. The Patagonians brought the canoe right up +to the looming side of the old bark, and as she dipped deep in the sea, +I sprang up and "walked up" her side, clinging to the rope with both +hands. So they got me inboard with merely a dash of saltwater to season +my venture. + +The canoe wore off sharply and I turned to wave good-bye to Pedro and +the paddlers. Then a bunch of the old Scarboro's fo'castle hands were +about me. Tom Anderly pushed through the group and grabbed my hand. + +"Here ye be, ye blamed young scamp!" he roared. "Leavin' Mr. Gibson an' +me in the lurch in Buenos Ayres." + +"And ye missed some of the greatest whalin' ye ever see," burst in the +stroke oar of our old boat. "We got smashed up complete once and lost +boat and every bit of gear. Nobody bad hurt, however." + +Within the next few moments I heard a deal of news. How many whales the +Scarboro had butchered since I had left for Buenos Ayres (and despite +Mr. Bobbin's croaking the old bark already had half a cargo in her +tanks); how long it had taken Bill Rudd and his crew to patch up the +hole the bull whale had smashed in the bark's side; about the gale they +had run into which had carried away some of the top gear and much +canvas; and what the crew had done during the week or more they had been +in port at Buenos Ayres. + +Then Ben Gibson came off duty and called me aft. "Awful glad to see you, +Webb," he declared. "I'm fit as a fiddle now. Want you in my boat again. +We took on a lout at Buenos Ayres, who's had your berth; but he isn't +worth a hang in the boat. You're going to finish out the cruise, aren't +you?" + +"I don't expect to, sir," I returned. "I would have been home long ago +if I had been wise. What I came down here for panned out nothing at +all." + +"Well, Captain Hi will be glad to have you finish out the cruise, I +don't doubt. You better go below and see him," said the second mate. + +Mr. Robbins shook hands with me before I went below and welcomed me +aboard. "We're going to make money in the old Scarboro this v'y'ge, +Webb," he said. "You'd better stick to the bark. Captain Hi is going to +discharge ile here at Punta Arenas and go into the Pacific with clean +tanks." + +And so the skipper told me when I descended to the tiny chart room. +There would be a tramp freightship with a half cargo at Punta Arenas, he +said, and it had empty tanks aboard. All that was needed was to pump the +oil from the bark into the tramp's tanks. + +"And we've got a good bit of bone and spermaceti, too," said Captain +Rogers. "I consider you one of the crew still, Webb. Or, if you are so +determined, you may pull out here and I will give you your hundred +dollars as I promised." + +"I feel that I should go home. Captain," I assured him. "As I told Ben +in my note back there at Buenos Ayres, my money and letters were grabbed +at the consulate by another fellow----" + +"Yes," interposed Captain Rogers, beginning to hunt in a drawer, "Ben +told me about that. And I went up to the consulate and had a talk with +Colonel Hefferan about it. The whole thing was a silly mistake on the +part of a clerk of his--a mighty fresh clerk. He went off half-cocked +and gave the money and letters over to that fellow without saying a word +to the consul himself. And they put you out of the consulate, too, I +understand?" + +"They most certainly did," I replied. + +"If you go to Buenos Ayres, just step in there and make that cheap clerk +beg your pardon. He's ready to. And here," said Captain Rogers, +suddenly, turning toward me, "is something that belongs to you, I +believe, Clint Webb." + +There were several letters which he placed in my hand. The top one was +addressed in mother's handwriting, and I seized it with a cry of +delight. + +"Know 'em, do you?" he said. + +"This is from my mother--and this from Ham--and this one from our +lawyer----" + +"I reckoned they belonged to you. The crimp gave them to me with the +rest of that fellow's belongings, and I took the liberty of sorting out +these and saving them for you." + +"They've been opened!" I cried. + +"Of course. And why the fellow kept them I don't see. They're +incriminating. But he was all in when the crimp brought him aboard----" + +"Who is the fellow?" gasped I, in amazement. + +"Says his name's Bodfish--young lout! I took pity on him when I saw him +in that crimp-shop. He had spent a pocketful of money, or had it stolen. +I suppose he is the fellow that represented himself as you at the +consulate," said Captain Rogers. + +"Paul Downes!" + +"Like enough. Of course, I didn't suppose Bodfish was his re'l name. But +he was an American--and a boy. I couldn't leave him to be put aboard +some coaster where he'd be beaten to death. He hasn't been much good, +though, aboard this bark. But maybe by the time we see Bedford again +he'll be licked into some sort of shape. I put him in Ben's watch, +knowing that Robbins might be too ha'sh with him." + +But I was eager to read my mother's letter--and the others. I asked the +kind old captain's permission, and dropped right down there and perused +the several epistles which good fortune had at last brought to me. Oh, I +was glad indeed that I had cabled mother from Buenas Ayres. And now I +wished more than ever that I had gone home from there instead of +shipping in the Sea Spell. + +Mother had cabled me two hundred dollars. Paul had made way with it all, +it seemed, and Captain Rogers had found him in the lowest kind of a +sailor's lodging house, helpless, in debt to the keeper of the place, +and unable to get away. + +But I was not interested in my cousin's fate just then. I read mother's +long letter with a feeling that all was not as well at home as I could +wish. She had been greatly shocked at my disappearance. At first they +had thought I had run away. I could guess mighty easily who suggested +_that_ idea! + +She did not write much of Mr. Chester Downes; but she did mention the +fact that when she had returned to Darringford House Mr. Hounsditch had +been very officious in attending upon her and in showing her that she +was a good deal tied down by the provisions of grandfather's will and +that the lawyer was to advise her at every turn. Especially did she +complain that Mr. Hounsditch had been officious since I was heard from. + +The tone of her letter hurt me a little. There seemed to be some idea +still in her mind that it was my reckless disposition more than the +crime of another, that had set me adrift in the Wavecrest. She spoke +of "Mr. Downes' great trouble" and of "poor Paul" as though they were +both to be pitied. Otherwise she did not touch on the topic of my having +been cut adrift by my cousin, or his emissaries. + +It was from Ham Mayberry's letter I got the facts regarding my cousin +and his father. Lampton, the man at the boathouse, and Ham himself had +had their suspicions of what had become of me, and how the Wavecrest +had been swept away in the storm, before my letters from the Scarboro +were received. They had found the cut mooring cable. + +Ham, too, had sounded the ne'er-do-wells who were my cousin's +companions, and after the house on the Neck was closed for the season, +and the Downeses had departed with my mother for Darringford House, the +old coachman had obtained a confession from the young scoundrels to the +effect that they had helped Paul nail me into my cabin and had seen him +cut the Wavecrest adrift. + +At the time I was heard from, Ham put all the evidence into the hands of +Mr. Hounsditch, and the old lawyer had gone to the Downeses and +threatened procedure against Paul. Chester Downes had flown into a +violent passion with his son and had actually driven him out of his +house, and Paul had disappeared. Of course, Ham at the time of writing +knew nothing of what had become of Paul. There was a paragraph at the +end of Ham's letter that was explanatory, too, and I repeat it here: + +"I don't know what you mean by your questions about Jim Carver--that was +his name. He was one of the three Carver boys--Bill and Jonas were as +straight as a chalk line; but Jim always was a little crooked. He worked +for the fish firm of Pallin & Thorpe, and I remember that he disappeared +with some of the cash from their safe about the time poor Dr. Webb was +drowned. Do you mean to say you have run across Jim Carver on board that +whaling bark? Folks hereabout thought Jim Carver was dead years ago." + +So _that_ settled the mystery of the man I had come clear down here to +the Straits of Magellan to find--the man whom Captain Adoniram Tugg +knew as Professor Vose and who had met so terrible an end when the +savages had destroyed Tugg's headquarters. It did not need Lawyer +Hounsditch's letter to show me how unwise I had been in not making my +way directly home from Buenos Ayres when I had had the chance. + +The lawyer reminded me that my mother needed me. He did not say anything +directly--for he was a sly old fellow--but he intimated plainly enough +that he feared Mr. Chester Downes' influence in our home. I was almost a +man grown, he said, even if I was a minor. "Your place is by your +mother's side. The lust for roving was born in you, I suppose," he +wrote, "your father had it, too; but put Duty before Inclination, and +come home at once." + +Had I received those three letters when I visited the consulate at +Buenos Ayres, I would have found means of taking the first steamer north +thereafter. Even the romantic idea I had of trying to find my father +would not have set aside what I plainly knew to be my duty. + +I was hurt that mother should so cling to Chester Downes as her friend +after all that had happened; yet I could not blame her for what was a +weakness, not a fault. She was the best and dearest little woman on +earth! And she needed me at that very moment, perhaps. Nothing now, I +determined, should keep me from taking passage for home at the very +earliest opportunity. + + + + +CHAPTER XXX + +IN WHICH I AT LAST SET MY FACE HOMEWARD WITH DETERMINATION + + +When I came up from the captain's room I stepped out on deck face to +face with my cousin, Paul Downes. He tried to sneak past me, but I +seized him by the shoulder and jammed him up against the side of the +house. + +"You lemme go, Clint Webb!" he whined. "I don't want nothing to do with +you--now, I tell you!" + +"I bet you don't want anything to do with me," I replied, eyeing him +with some curiosity. + +Paul looked as though he had had a hard time of it. He was dressed in +the roughest sort of clothing, he had a bruised face (I fear Ben Gibson +had punished him for disrespect, for Paul was just the sort of a fellow +to try and take advantage of the second mate's youth) and altogether he +was a most disreputable and hang-dog looking creature. + +"I'd never come aboard this old tub if I'd known what whaling was like," +whined Paul. "And now I want you to get this captain to let me off. +You're going home, they tell me." + +"I hope to get away about as soon as we arrive as Punta Arenas," I +declared. + +"Then I want you to get me away from this place, too. You'll have money +enough to pay both our fares home----" + +"Well, I never heard of such cheek!" I interrupted. + +"Now, you do as I say. Father will pay you back. I'll make him," said +Paul, as though he thought the whole thing was cut and dried. + +"Why, you shipped for the voyage, didn't you?" + +"Ye-es. They said something like that. But I didn't mean it," said my +cousin. + +"You'll find that sea captains expect a man to abide by the ship's +papers. I don't know as Captain Rogers loves you much, but maybe he'll +want to keep you just the same." + +"He ain't trying to hold you," snarled Paul. + +"I never signed on," I replied. "I haven't been a real member of the +crew at all. But you were very glad for Captain Rogers to take you out +of the clutches of that crimp at Buenos Ayres. You won't get away from +the Scarboro so easy." + +"I ain't going to stay," he declared, bitterly. "I don't like it. I want +to go home." + +"The voyage will maybe teach you something, Paul," I said, and I must +confess I enjoyed his discomfiture. + +"You better help me out o' here," he threatened. "You can do it." + +"If I could help you, I wouldn't," I declared, with some heat. "Think +I've forgotten what you did to me at the consul's office?" + +He grinned a little; but he was angry, too. "You better help me to a +passage home," he growled. + +"Not much!" + +"You'll wish you had," he declared. "I'll write your mother and tell her +just how you've treated me. I've had a hard time----" + +And he actually acted and spoke as though he considered himself +ill-used! I never in my life saw such a fellow. Always blaming somebody +else for the troubles he brought upon himself. I was soon tired of +listening to him. + +"Come! stow all that!" I advised him. "You're a member of the Scarboro's +crew, and you joined of your own free will. The only reason I see for my +trying to get you away from here is to have you arrested and punished +for getting hold of my money at Buenos Ayres. I could put you in bad for +that. You be thankful you are away down here on the Scarboro, instead of +at Buenos Ayres." + +"So you won't help me get away?" he snarled. + +"No, sir!" + +"All right. You wait. You'll be sorry." + +"Now, don't threaten me any more," I returned. "I hope this voyage will +do you some good. I think you'll learn something before the Scarboro +reaches New Bedford again. We'll hope so, anyway." + +He only snarled at me as I passed on. I had just as little to do with +him as possible while I remained aboard the bark. We were at Punta +Arenas in a few hours, and the very next morning the bark was warped in +beside the tramp steamer and the oil in the whaler's tanks was being +pumped aboard the steamship. The men were given short shore leave; but +Captain Rogers put Paul Downes in the care of Bill Rudd, the carpenter, +and made him responsible for him. + +"I ain't got my money's worth out o' that greenhorn yet," declared the +skipper. "He ain't earned yet what I had to pay for his board bill in +Buenos Ayres. Don't you let him get away, Rudd." + +I knew that my cousin would come to no harm with Captain Rogers. The +cruise might be the means of making some sort of a man of him, at least. +So I put Paul and his affairs right out of my mind. + +There was a steamer touching at Buenos Ayres due through the straits in +a couple of days, and I prepared to board her. Once in the big Argentine +seaport I would take passage on a Bayne Liner for Boston. I was eager +for the homeward journey now, although I felt that I never should be +tired of the salt water. But, as Lawyer Hounsditch advised, I put Duty +ahead of Inclination. + +I bade my friends aboard the Scarboro good-bye and went ashore, spending +the night before I was to sail for the north in a decent house near the +landing. I knew my mother would be glad to see me and I had no fear but +that, once beside her, I should find means of keeping Mr. Chester Downes +at a distance. I had no reason to doubt the future, or what it might +hold in store for me. That it did not prove wholly uneventful the reader +may discover for himself in the second volume of this series, entitled: +"The Frozen Ship; or, Clint Webb Among the Sealers." + +I was not thinking of either romance or adventure, however, when I began +my homeward voyage. I expected it to be quite uneventful, and was only +anxious to walk into Darringford House, surprise my little mother, and +take her once again in my arms! + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SWEPT OUT TO SEA*** + + +******* This file should be named 23674.txt or 23674.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/3/6/7/23674 + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. 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