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diff --git a/25885-h/25885-h.htm b/25885-h/25885-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..71f0722 --- /dev/null +++ b/25885-h/25885-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,5183 @@ +<!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 All the Brothers Were Valiant, by Ben Ames Williams</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%;} + a {text-decoration: none;} + div.ce p {text-align: center; margin: auto 0;} + hr.tb {width: 35%; margin-top: 0.5em; margin-bottom: 0.5em; border:none; border-bottom:1px solid black; clear:both;} + .pagenum {display: inline; font-size: x-small; text-align: right; position: absolute; right: 2%; padding: 1px 3px; font-style: normal; font-variant:normal; font-weight:normal; text-decoration: none; color: silver; background-color: inherit; border:1px solid #eee;} + hr.major {width: 65%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 2em; border:none; border-bottom:1px solid black; clear:both;} + hr.silver {width: 100%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 2em; border:none; border-bottom:1px solid silver;} + h2 {text-align:center; font-weight: normal; font-size: 1.4em} + + h1,h3 { text-align: center; } + 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>The Project Gutenberg eBook, All the Brothers Were Valiant, by Ben Ames +Williams</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: All the Brothers Were Valiant</p> +<p>Author: Ben Ames Williams</p> +<p>Release Date: June 23, 2008 [eBook #25885]</p> +<p>Language: English</p> +<p>Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1</p> +<p>***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ALL THE BROTHERS WERE VALIANT***</p> +<p> </p> +<h3>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> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> + +<div class='ce'> +<p style=' font-size:1.4em;'>ALL THE BROTHERS</p> +<p style=' font-size:1.4em;'>WERE VALIANT</p> +</div> + +<hr class='silver' /> + +<div style='text-align:center'> +<img alt='emblem' src='images/illus-emb.png' /> +</div> +<p style='text-align:center;font-size:smaller;'> +NEW YORK · BOSTON · CHICAGO · DALLAS<br /> +ATLANTA · SAN FRANCISCO<br /> +<br /> +MACMILLAN & CO., Limited<br /> +<br /> +LONDON · BOMBAY · CALCUTTA<br /> +MELBOURNE<br /> +<br /> +THE MACMILLAN CO. OF CANADA, <span style='font-variant:small-caps'>Ltd</span>.<br /> +TORONTO</p> + +<hr class='silver' /> + +<div class='ce'> +<p style=' font-size:1.4em; margin-top:1em;'>ALL THE BROTHERS</p> +<p style=' font-size:1.4em; margin-bottom:1em;'>WERE VALIANT</p> +<div style='margin-top:1em'></div> +<p>BY</p> +<p style=' font-size:1.2em; margin-bottom:4em;'>BEN AMES WILLIAMS</p> +<div style='margin-top:1em'></div> +<p> </p> +<p style=' font-size:0.8em;'>New York</p> +<p>THE MACMILLAN COMPANY</p> +<p style=' font-size:0.8em; margin-bottom:2em;'>1919</p> +<div style='margin-top:1em'></div> +<p style=' font-size:0.8em; margin-bottom:3em;'><i>All rights reserved</i></p> +</div> + +<hr class='silver' /> + +<div class='ce'> +<p style=' font-size:0.8em;'>Copyright, 1919, by</p> +<p style=' font-size:0.8em;'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>The Ridgway Company</span></p> +<div style='margin-top:1em'></div> +<p style=' font-size:0.8em;'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Copyright, 1919</span></p> +<p style=' font-size:0.8em;'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>By</span> THE MACMILLAN COMPANY</p> +<div style='margin-top:1em'></div> +<p style=' font-size:0.8em;'>Set up and electrotyped. Published, May, 1919</p> +</div> + +<hr class='silver' /> + +<div class='ce'> +<p style=' font-size:1.6em;'>ALL THE BROTHERS</p> +<p style=' font-size:1.6em;'>WERE VALIANT</p> +</div> + +<hr class='silver' /> + +<div><span class='pagenum'><a id='page_5' name='page_5'></a>5</span></div> +<div class='ce'> +<p style=' font-size:1.4em;'>ALL THE BROTHERS</p> +<p style=' font-size:1.4em;'>WERE VALIANT</p> +</div> + +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 0em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<h2>I</h2> +</div> + +<p>The fine old house stood on Jumping +Tom Hill, above the town. It had +stood there before there was a town, when only +a cabin or two fringed the woods below, nearer +the shore. The weather boarding had been +brought in ships from England, ready sawed; +likewise the bricks of the chimney. Indians +used to come to the house in the cold of winter, +begging shelter. Given blankets, and +food, and drink, they slept upon the kitchen +floor; and when Joel Shore’s great-great-grandfather +came down in the morning, he found Indians +and blankets gone together. Sometimes +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_6' name='page_6'></a>6</span> +the Indians came back with a venison haunch, +or a bear steak ... sometimes not at all. +</p> +<p>The house had, now, the air of disuse which +old New England houses often have. It was +in perfect repair; its paint was white, and its +shutters hung squarely at the windows. But +the grass was uncut in the yard, and the lack +of a veranda, and the tight-closed doors and +windows, made the house seem lifeless and +lacking the savor of human presence. There +was a white-painted picket fence around the +yard; and a rambler rose draped these pickets. +The buds on the rose were bursting into crimson +flower. +</p> +<p>The house was four-square, plain, and without +any ornamentation. It was built about a +great, square chimney that was like a spine. +There were six flues in this chimney, and a pot +atop each flue. These little chimney pots +breaking the severe outlines of the house, gave +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_7' name='page_7'></a>7</span> +the only suggestion of lightness or frivolity +about it. They were like the heads of impish +children, peeping over a fence.... +</p> +<p>Across the front of this house, on the second +floor, ran a single, long room like a corridor. +Its windows looked down, across the town, to +the Harbor. A glass hung in brackets on the +wall; there was a hog-yoke in its case upon a +little table, and a ship’s chronometer, and a +compass.... There were charts in a tin +tube upon the wall, and one that showed the +Harbor and the channel to the sea hung between +the middle windows. In the north corner, +a harpoon, and two lances, and a boat spade +leaned. Their blades were covered with +wooden sheaths, painted gray. A fifteen-foot +jawbone, cleaned and polished and with every +curving tooth in place, hung upon the rear wall +and gleamed like old and yellow ivory. The +chair at the table was fashioned of whalebone; +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_8' name='page_8'></a>8</span> +and on a bracket above the table rested the +model of a whaling ship, not more than eighteen +inches long, fashioned of sperm ivory and +perfect in every detail. Even the tiny harpoons +in the boats that hung along the rail were +tipped with bits of steel.... +</p> +<p>The windows of this place were tight closed; +nevertheless, the room was filled with the harsh, +strong smell of the sea. +</p> +<p>Joel Shore sat in the whalebone chair, at the +table, reading a book. The book was the Log +of the House of Shore. Joel’s father had begun +it, when Joel and his four brothers were +ranging from babyhood through youth.... +A full half of the book was filled with entries in +old Matthew Shore’s small, cramped hand. +The last of these entries was very short. It began +with a date, and it read: +</p> +<p>“Wind began light, from the south. This +day came into Harbor the bark <i>Winona</i>, after a +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_9' name='page_9'></a>9</span> +cruise of three years, two months, and four +days. Captain Chase reported that my eldest +son, Matthew Shore, was killed by the fluke of +a right whale, at Christmas Island. The whale +yielded seventy barrels of oil. Matthew Shore +was second mate.” +</p> +<p>And below, upon a single line, like an epitaph, +the words: +</p> +<table summary='poetry' style='margin:0 auto'><tr><td> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0em;'>“‘All the brothers were valiant.’”</p> +</td></tr></table> + +<p>Two days after, the old man sickened; and +three weeks later, he died. He had set great +store by big Matt.... +</p> +<p>Joel, turning the leaves of the Log, and scanning +their brief entries, came presently to this—written +in the hand of his brother John: +</p> +<p>“Wind easterly. This day the <i>Betty</i> was +reported lost on the Japan grounds, with all +hands save the boy and the cook. Noah Shore +was third mate. Day ended as it began.” +</p> +<p>And below, again, that single line: +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_10' name='page_10'></a>10</span></p> +<table summary='poetry' style='margin:0 auto'><tr><td> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0em;'>“‘All the brothers were valiant.’”</p> +</td></tr></table> + +<p>There followed many pages filled with reports +of rich cruises, when ships came home +with bursting casks, and the brothers of the +House of Shore played the parts of men. The +entries were now in the hand of one, now of another; +John and Mark and Joel.... Joel +read phrases here and there.... +</p> +<p>“This day the <i>Martin Wilkes</i> returned ... two +years, eleven months and twenty-two days ... died +on the cruise, and first mate John +Shore became captain. Day ended as it began.” +</p> +<p>And, a page or two further on: +</p> +<p>“... <i>Martin Wilkes</i> ... two years, two +months, four days ... tubs on deck filled with +oil, for which there was no more room in the +casks ... Captain John Shore.” +</p> +<p>Mark Shore’s first entry in the Log stood out +from the others; for Mark’s hand was bold, and +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_11' name='page_11'></a>11</span> +strong, and the letters sprawled blackly along +the lines. Furthermore, Mark used the personal +pronoun, while the other brothers wrote +always in the third person. Mark had written: +</p> +<p>“This day, I, Mark Shore, at the age of +twenty-seven, was given command of the whaling +bark <i>Nathan Ross</i>.” +</p> +<p>Joel read this sentence thrice. There was a +bold pride in it, and a strong and reckless note +which seemed to bring his brother before his +very eyes. Mark had always been so, swift of +tongue, and strong, and sure. Joel turned another +page, came to where Mark had written: +</p> +<p>“This day I returned from my first cruise +with full casks in two years, seven months, +fifteen days. I found the <i>Martin Wilkes</i> in the +dock. They report Captain John Shore lost at +Vau Vau in an effort to save the ship’s boy, +who had fallen overboard. The boy was also +lost.” +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_12' name='page_12'></a>12</span></p> +<p>And, below, in bold and defiant letters: +</p> +<table summary='poetry' style='margin:0 auto'><tr><td> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0em;'>“‘All the brothers were valiant.’”</p> +</td></tr></table> + +<p>There were two more pages of entries, in +Mark’s hand or in Joel’s, before the end. +When he came to the fresh page, Joel dipped +his pen, and huddled his broad shoulders over +the book, and slowly wrote that which had to +be written. +</p> +<p>“Wind northeast, light,” he began, according +to the ancient form of the sea, which makes +the state of wind and weather of first and foremost +import. “Wind northeast, light. This +day the <i>Martin Wilkes</i> finished a three year +cruise. Found in port the <i>Nathan Ross</i>. She +reports that Captain Mark Shore left the ship +when she watered at the Gilbert Islands. He +did not return, and could not be found. They +searched three weeks. They encountered hostile +islanders. No trace of Mark Shore.” +</p> +<p>When he had written thus far, he read the +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_13' name='page_13'></a>13</span> +record to himself, his lips moving; then he sat +for a space with frowning brows, thinking, +thinking, wondering if there were a chance.... +</p> +<p>But in the end he cast the hope aside. If +Mark lived, they would have found him, would +surely have found him.... +</p> +<p>And so Joel wrote the ancient line: +</p> +<table summary='poetry' style='margin:0 auto'><tr><td> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0em;'>“‘All the brothers were valiant.’”</p> +</td></tr></table> + +<p>And below, as an afterthought, he added: +“Joel Shore became first mate of the <i>Martin +Wilkes</i> on her cruise.” +</p> +<p>He blotted this line, and closed the book, +and put it away. Then he went to the windows +that looked down upon the Harbor, and +stood there for a long time. His face was +serene, but his eyes were faintly troubled. He +did not see the things that lay outspread below +him. +</p> +<p>Yet they were worth seeing. The town was +old, and it had the fragrance of age about it. +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_14' name='page_14'></a>14</span></p> +<p>Below Joel, on the hill’s slopes, among the +trees, stood the square white houses of the town +folk. Beyond them, the white spire of the +church with its weather vane atop. Joel +marked that the wind was still northeast. The +vane swung fitfully in the light air. He could +see the masts and yards of the ships along the +waterfront. The yards of the <i>Nathan Ross</i> +were canted in mournful tribute to his brother. +At the pier end beside her, he marked the ranks +of casks, brown with sweating oil. Beyond, +the smooth water ruffled in the wind, and dark +ripple-shadows moved across its surface with +each breeze. There were gulls in the air, and +on the water. Such stillness lay upon the +sleepy town that if his windows had been open, +he might have heard the harsh cries of the birds. +A man was sculling shoreward from a fishing +schooner that lay at anchor off the docks; and +a whaleboat crawled like a spider across the +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_15' name='page_15'></a>15</span> +harbor toward Fairhaven on the other side. +</p> +<p>On a flag staff above a big building near the +water, a half-masted flag hung idly in the +faintly stirring air. It hung there, he knew, +for his brother’s sake. He watched it thoughtfully, +wondering.... There had been such +an abounding insolence of life in big Mark +Shore.... It was hard to believe that he was +surely dead. +</p> +<p>A woman passed along the street below the +house, and looked up and saw him at the window. +He did not see her. Two boys crawled +along the white picket fence, and pricked their +fingers as they broke half-open clusters from +the rambler without molestation. A gray +squirrel, when the boys had gone, came down +from an elm across the street and sprinted desperately +to the foot of the great oak below the +house. When it was safe in the oak’s upper +branches, it scolded derisively at the imaginary +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_16' name='page_16'></a>16</span> +terrors it had escaped. A blue jay, with ruffled +feathers—a huge, blue ball in the air—rocketed +across from the elm, and established himself +near the squirrel, and they swore at each other +like coachmen. The squirrel swore from +temper and disposition; the jay from malice +and derision. The bird seemed to have the better +of the argument, for the squirrel suddenly +fell silent and departed, his emotions revealing +themselves only in the angry flicks of his tail. +When he was gone, the jay began to investigate +a knot in a limb of the oak. The bird climbed +around this knot with slow motions curiously +like those of a parrot. +</p> +<p>A half-grown boy came up the street and +turned in at the gate. Joel remained where he +was until the boy manipulated the knocker on +the door; then he went down and opened. He +knew the boy; Peter How. Peter was thin and +freckled and nervous; and he was inclined to +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_17' name='page_17'></a>17</span> +stammer. When Joel opened the door, Peter +was at first unable to speak. He stood on the +step, jerking his chin upward and forward as +though his collar irked him. Joel smiled +slowly. +</p> +<p>“Come in, Peter,” he said. +</p> +<p>Peter jerked his chin, jerked his whole head +furiously. “C—C—C—” he said. “Asa W-W-Worthen +wants to s-s-see you.” +</p> +<p>Asa Worthen was the owner of the <i>Martin +Wilkes</i>, and of the <i>Nathan Ross</i>. Joel +nodded gently. +</p> +<p>“Thank you, Peter,” he told the boy. “I’ll +get my hat and come.” +</p> +<p>Peter jerked his head. He seemed to be +choking. “He’s a-a-a-a-at his office,” he +blurted. +</p> +<p>Joel had found his hat. He closed the door +of the house behind him, and he and Peter went +down the shady street together. +</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_18' name='page_18'></a>18</span> +<h2>II</h2> +</div> + +<p>Asa Worthen was a small, lean, strong +old man, immensely voluble. He must +have been well over sixty years old; and he had +grown rich by harvesting the living treasures of +the sea. At thirty-four, he owned his first ship. +She was old, and cranky, and no more seaworthy +than a log; but she earned him more +than four hundred thousand dollars, net, before +he beached her on the sand below the town. +She lay there still, her upper parts strong and +well preserved. But her bottom was gone, and +she was slowly rotting into the sand. +</p> +<p>Asa himself had captained this old craft, until +she had served her appointed time; but when +she went to the sand flats, he, too, stayed ashore, +to watch his ships come in. When they were +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_19' name='page_19'></a>19</span> +in harbor, they berthed in his own dock; and +from his office at the shoreward end of the pier, +he could look down upon their decks, and watch +the casks come out, so fat with oil, and the +stores go aboard for each cruise. The cries of +the men and the wheeling gulls, the rattle of +the blocks and gear, and the rich smell of the +oil came up to him.... The <i>Nathan Ross</i> +was loading now; and when Joel climbed the +office stairs, he found the old man at the window +watching them sling great shooks of staves +into her hold, and fidgeting at the lubberliness +of the men who did the work. +</p> +<p>Asa’s office was worth seeing; a strange, +huge room, windowed on three sides; against +one wall, a whaleboat with all her gear in +place; in a corner, the twisted jaw of a sixty-barrel +bull, killed in the Seychelles; and Asa +Worthen’s big desk, with a six-foot model of +his old ship atop it, between the forward windows. +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_20' name='page_20'></a>20</span> +Beside the desk stood that contrivance +known to the whalemen as a “woman’s tub”; +a cask, sawed chair-fashion, with a cross board +for seat, and ropes so rigged that the whole +might be easily and safely swung from ship +to small boat or back again. Asa had taken +his wife along on more than one of his early +voyages ... before she died.... +</p> +<p>At Joel’s step, the little man swung awkwardly +away from the window, toward the +door. Many years ago, a racing whale line had +snarled his left leg and whipped away a gout of +muscle; and this leg was now shorter than its +fellow, so that Asa walked with a pegging limp. +He hitched across the big room, and took Joel’s +arm, and led the young man to the desk. +</p> +<p>“Sit down, Joel. Sit down,” he said briskly. +“I’ve words to say to you, my son. Sit down.” +Asa was smoking; and Joel took a twist of leaf +from his pocket, and cut three slices, and crumbled +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_21' name='page_21'></a>21</span> +them and stuffed them into the bowl of +his black pipe. Asa watched the process, and +he watched Joel, puffing without comment. +There was something furtive in the scrutiny of +the young man, but Joel did not mark it. +When the pipe was ready, Asa passed across +a match, and Joel struck it, and puffed +slowly.... +</p> +<p>Asa began, abruptly, what he had to say. +“Joel, the <i>Nathan Ross</i> will be ready for sea +in five days. She’s stout, her timbers are good +and her tackle is strong. She’s a lucky ship. +The oil swims after her across the broad sea, +and begs to be taken. She’s my pet ship, Joel, +as you know; and she’s uncommon well fitted. +Mark had her. Now I want you to take her.” +</p> +<p>Joel’s calm eyes had met the other’s while +Asa was speaking; and Asa had shifted to avoid +the encounter. But Joel’s heart was pounding +so, at the words of the older man, that he took +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_22' name='page_22'></a>22</span> +no heed. He listened, and he waited thoughtfully +until he was sure of what he wished to +say. Then he asked quietly: +</p> +<p>“Is not James Finch the mate of her? Did +he not fetch her home?” +</p> +<p>“Aye,” said Asa impatiently. “He brought +her home—in the top scurry of haste. There +was no need of such haste; for he had still +casks unfilled, and there was sparm all about +him where he lay. He should have filled those +last casks. ’Tis in them the profit lies.” He +shook his head sorrowfully. “No, Jim Finch +will not do. He is a good man—under another +man. But he has not the spine that +stands alone. When Mark Shore was gone ... +Jim had no thought but to throw the try works +overside and scurry hitherward as though he +feared to be out upon the seas alone.” +</p> +<p>Joel puffed thrice at his pipe. Then: +“You said this morning that for three weeks +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_23' name='page_23'></a>23</span> +he hunted Mark, up and down the Gilbert +Islands.” +</p> +<p>Asa’s little eyes whipped toward Joel, and +away again. “Oh, aye,” he said harshly. +“Three weeks he hunted, when one was plenty. +If Mark Shore lived, and wished to find his +ship again, he’d have found her in a week. If +he were dead ... there was no need of the +time wasted.” +</p> +<p>“Nevertheless,” said Joel quietly, “James +Finch has my thanks for his search; and I’m +no mind to do him a harm, or to step into his +shoes.” +</p> +<p>Asa smiled grimly. “Ye’re over considerate,” +he said. “Jim Finch was your brother’s +man, and a very loyal one. As long as he is another’s +man, he is content. But he has no want +to be his own master and the master of a ship, +and of men. I’ve askit him.” +</p> +<p>Joel puffed hard at his pipe; and after a little +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_24' name='page_24'></a>24</span> +he asked: “Sir, what think you it was that +came to Mark?” +</p> +<p>Asa looked at him sharply, then away; and +his accustomed volubility fell away from him. +He lifted his hands. “Ask James Finch. +I’ve no way to tell,” he said curtly. +</p> +<p>“Have you no opinion?” Joel insisted. +</p> +<p>The ship owner tilted his head, set finger tip +to finger tip, assumed the air of one who delivers +judgment. “Islanders, ’tis like,” he said. +“There’s a many there.” He looked sidewise +at Joel, looked away. Joel was nodding. +</p> +<p>“Yes, many thereabouts,” he agreed. “But +there would have been tracks. Were there +none?” +</p> +<p>“Mark left his boat’s crew,” said Asa. +“Walked away along the shore. That was all.” +</p> +<p>“No tracks?” +</p> +<p>“They saw where he’d left the sand.” The +ship owner shifted in his chair. “Seems like +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_25' name='page_25'></a>25</span> +I’d heard you and Mark wa‘n’t too good +friends, Joel. Your a’mighty worked up.” +</p> +<p>Joel looked at the little man with bleak eyes. +“He was my brother.” +</p> +<p>“I’ve heard tell he forgot you was his, sometimes.” +</p> +<p>Joel paid no heed. “You think it was +Islanders?” +</p> +<p>Asa kicked the corner of his desk, watching +his foot. “What else was there?” +</p> +<p>“I’ve nothing in my mind,” said Joel, and +shook his head. “But it sticks in me that Mark +was no man to die easy. There was a full +measure of life in him.” +</p> +<p>Asa got up awkwardly, waved his hand. +“We’re off the course, Joel. What about the +<i>Nathan Ross</i>? Ready for sea, come Tuesday. +I’m not one to press her on any man, unwilling. +Say your say, man. Do you take her? Or +no?” +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_26' name='page_26'></a>26</span></p> +<p>Joel drew slowly once more upon his pipe. +“If I take her,” he said, “we’ll work the Gilberts +first of all, and try once again for a sign +of my brother Mark.” +</p> +<p>Asa jerked his head. “So you pick up any +oil that comes your way, I’ve no objection,” +he agreed. “Matter of fact, that’s the best +thing to do. Mark may yet live.” His eyes +snapped up to the others. “You take her, +then?” +</p> +<p>Joel nodded slowly. “I take her, sir,” he +said. “With thanks to you.” +</p> +<p>Asa banged his hand jubilantly on his desk. +“That’s done. Now ...” +</p> +<p>The two men sat down at Asa’s big desk +again; and for an hour they were busy with +matters that concerned the coming cruise. +When a whaleship goes to sea, she goes for a +three-year cruise; and save only the items of +food and water, she carries with her everything +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_27' name='page_27'></a>27</span> +she will need for that whole time, with an ample +allowance to spare. She is a department +store of the seas; for she works with iron and +wood, with steel and bone, with fire and water +and rope and sail. All these things she must +have, and many more. And the lists of a +whaleship’s stores are long and long, and take +much checking. When they had considered +these matters, Asa sent out to the pierhead to +summon Jim Finch, and told the man that Joel +would have the ship. Joel said to Finch +slowly: “I’ve no mind to fight a grudge +aboard my ship, sir. If you blame me for stepping +into your shoes, Mr. Worthen will give +you another berth.” +</p> +<p>Finch shook his head. He was a big, laughing +man with soft, fat cheeks. “No, sir,” he +declared. “It’s yours, and welcome. Your +brother was a man; and you’ve the look of +another, sir.” +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_28' name='page_28'></a>28</span></p> +<p>Joel frowned. He was uncomfortable; he +had an angry feeling that Finch was too amiable. +But he said no more, and Finch went +back to the ship, and Asa and Joel continued +with their task. +</p> +<p>While they worked, the afternoon sun drifted +down the western sky till its level rays were +flame lances laid across the harbor. A fishing +craft at anchor in mid-stream hoisted her +sails with a creak and rattle of blocks and +drifted down the channel with the tide. The +wheeling gulls dropped, one by one, to the +water; or they lurched off to some quiet cove +to spend the night. Their harsh cries came +less frequently, were less persistent. The wind +had swung around, and it was fetching now +from the water a cold and salty chill. There +was a smell of cooking in the air, and the smoke +from the <i>Nathan Ross</i>’ galley, and the cool +smell of the sea mingled with the strong odor +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_29' name='page_29'></a>29</span> +of the oil in the casks ranked at the end of the +pier. +</p> +<p>The sun had touched the horizon when Joel +at last rose to go. Asa got up with him, +dropped a hand on the young man’s shoulder. +They passed the contrivance called a “woman’s +tub”; and Asa, at sight of it, seemed to be +minded of something. He stopped, and +checked Joel, and with eyes twinkling, pointed +to the tub. “Will you be wishful to take that +on the cruise, Joel?” he asked, and looked up +sidewise at the younger man, and chuckled. +</p> +<p>Joel’s brown cheeks were covered with slow +fire; but his voice was steady enough when he +replied. “It’s a kind offer, sir,” he said. “I +know well what store you set by that tub.” +</p> +<p>“Will you be wanting it?” Asa still insisted. +</p> +<p>“I’ll see,” said Joel quietly. “I will see.” +</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_30' name='page_30'></a>30</span> +<h2>III</h2> +</div> + +<p>The brothers of the House of Shore had +been, on the whole, slow to take to +themselves wives. Matt had never married, +nor Noah, nor Mark. John had a wife for the +weeks he was at home before his last cruise; +but he did not take her with him on that voyage, +and there was no John Shore to carry on +the name. +</p> +<p>John Shore’s widow was called Rachel. She +had been Rachel Holt; and her sister’s name +was Priscilla. Rachel was one of those women +who suggest slumbering fires; she was slow of +speech, and quiet, and calm.... But John +Shore and Mark had both loved her; and when +she married John, Mark laughed a hard and +reckless laugh that made the woman afraid. +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_31' name='page_31'></a>31</span> +John and Mark never spoke, one to another, +after that marriage. +</p> +<p>Rachel’s sister, Priscilla, was a gay and careless +child. She was six years younger than +Joel, and she had acquired in babyhood the +habit of thinking Joel the most wonderful created +thing. Their yards adjoined; and she was +the baby of her family, and he of his. Thus +the big boy and the little girl had always been +comrades and allies against the world. Before +Joel first went to sea, as ship’s boy, the two +had decided they would some day be married.... +</p> +<p>Joel went to supper that night at Priscilla’s +home. He was alone in his own house; and +Mrs. Holt was a person with a mother’s heart. +Rachel lived at home. She gave Joel quiet +welcome at the door, before Priscilla in the +kitchen heard his voice and came flying to overwhelm +him. She had been making popovers, +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_32' name='page_32'></a>32</span> +and there was flour on her fingers—and on +Joel’s best black coat, when she was done with +him. Rachel brushed it off, when Priss had +run back to her oven. +</p> +<p>They sat down at table. Mrs. Holt at one +end, her husband—he was a big man, an old +sea captain, and full of yarns as a knitting +bag—at the other; and Rachel at one side, +facing Priss and Joel. Joel’s ship had come +in only that day; the <i>Nathan Ross</i> had been in +port for weeks. So the whole town knew Mark +Shore’s story. They spoke of it now, and +Joel told them what he knew.... Rachel +wondered if there was any chance that Mark +might still be alive. Her father broke in with +a story of Mark’s first cruise, when the boy had +saved a man’s life by his quickness with the +hatchet on the racing line. The town was full +of such stories; for Mark was one of those +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_33' name='page_33'></a>33</span> +men about whom legends arise. And now he +was gone.... +</p> +<p>Priscilla listened to the talk with the wide +eyes of youth, awed by the mystery and majesty +of tragic things. She remembered Mark +as a huge man, like a pagan god, in whose eyes +she had been only a thin-legged little girl who +made faces through the fence.... After supper, +when the others had left them in the parlor +together, she said to Joel: “Do you think +he’s dead?” Her voice was a whisper. +</p> +<p>“I aim to know,” said Joel. +</p> +<p>Rachel looked in at the door. “You +needn’t bother with the dishes, Priss,” she said. +“I’ll do them.” +</p> +<p>Priscilla had forgotten all about that task. +She ran contritely toward her sister. “Oh, I’m +sorry, Rachel. I will, I will do them. Joel +and I....” +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_34' name='page_34'></a>34</span></p> +<p>Rachel laughed softly. “I don’t mind them. +You two stay here.” +</p> +<p>Priscilla accepted the offer, in the end; but +she had no notion of staying in the tight-windowed +parlor, with its harsh carpet on the floor, +and its samplers on the walls. She was of the +new generation, the generation which discovered +that the night is beautiful, and not unhealthy. +“Let’s go outside,” she said to Joel. “There’s +a moon. We can sit on the bench, under the +apple tree....” +</p> +<p>They went out, side by side. Joel was not +a tall man, but he was inches taller than Priscilla. +She was tiny; a dainty, sweetly proportioned +creature, built on fine lines that were +strangely out of keeping with the stalwart stock +from which she sprung. Her hair was darker +than Joel’s; it was a brown so dark that it was +almost black. But her eyes were vividly blue, +and her lips were vividly red, and her cheeks +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_35' name='page_35'></a>35</span> +were bright.... She slipped her hand through +Joel’s big arm as they crossed the yard; and +when they had found the seat, she drew his arm +frankly about her shoulders. “I’m cold,” she +said, laughing up at him. “You must keep me +warm....” +</p> +<p>The moon flecked down through the leaves +upon her face. There was moonlight on her +cheek, and on her mouth; but her thick hair and +her eyes were shadowed and mysterious. Joel +saw that her lips were smiling.... She drew +his head down toward hers.... Joel was +flesh and blood; and she panted, and gasped, +and pushed him away, and smoothed her hair, +and laughed at him. “I love you to be so +strong,” she whispered, happily. +</p> +<p>He had not told them, at supper, of his promotion. +He told Priscilla now; and the girl +could not sit still beside him. She danced in +the path before the seat; she perched on his +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_36' name='page_36'></a>36</span> +knee, and caught his big shoulders in her tiny +hands and tried to shake him back and forth +in her delight. “You don’t act a bit excited,” +she scolded. “You don’t act as though you +were glad, a bit. Aren’t you glad, Joe? +Aren’t you just so proud?...” +</p> +<p>“Yes,” he told her. “Of course. Yes. +Yes, I am glad, and I am proud.” +</p> +<p>“Oh,” she cried, “I could—I could just hug +you in two.” She tried it, tightening her arms +about his big neck, clinging to him.... He +sat stiff and awkward under her caresses, thrilling +with a happiness that he did not know how +to express. He felt uneasy, half embarrassed. +Her ecstasy continued.... +</p> +<p>Then, abruptly, it passed. She became practical. +Still upon his knee, she began to ask +questions. When would he sail away? She +had heard the <i>Nathan Ross</i> was almost ready. +When would he come back? When would he +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_37' name='page_37'></a>37</span> +be rich, so that they might be married? +Would it be long?... +</p> +<p>Joel found tongue. “We will be married +Monday,” he said slowly. “We will go away—on +the <i>Nathan Ross</i>—together. I do not +want to go alone.” +</p> +<p>She slipped from his knee, stood before him. +“Why, Joel! You’re—you’re just crazy to +think of it.” +</p> +<p>He shook his head. “No,” he said. “No, I +have thought all about it. It is the best thing +to do. We will be married Monday; and we +will make a bigger cabin on the—<i>Nathan +Ross</i>....” His voice always slowed a little +as he spoke the name of his first ship. “You +will be happy on her,” he said. “You will like +it all.... The sea....” +</p> +<p>She returned to his knee, tumbling his hair. +“You silly! Men don’t understand. Why, I +couldn’t be ready for ever so long. And I +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_38' name='page_38'></a>38</span> +wouldn’t dare go away with you. For so awfully +long. I just couldn’t....” Her eyes +misted with thought, and she said quite seriously: +“Why, Joel, we might find we didn’t +like each other at all. But we’d be on the ship, +with no way to get away from it ... for three +years. Don’t you see?” +</p> +<p>Joel said calmly: “That is not so; because +we know about—liking each other, already. I +know how it is with you. It is clothes that +you are thinking about. Well, you can get +them in the stores. And you have many, already. +You have new dresses whenever I see +you....” +</p> +<p>She laughed gayly. “But, Joel, you only see +me once in three years. Of course I have new +dresses, then. But I just couldn’t....” +</p> +<p>She laughed again, a faint uneasiness in her +laughter. She left his knee, and sat down soberly +beside him. She was feeling a little +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_39' name='page_39'></a>39</span> +crushed, smothered ... as though she were being +pushed back against a wall. Joel said +steadily: +</p> +<p>“Mr. Worthen will be glad to know you go +with me. And every one will be glad for +you....” +</p> +<p>She burst, abruptly, into tears. She was miserable, +she told him. He was making her miserable. +She hated to be bullied, and he was +trying to bully her. She hated him. She +wouldn’t marry him. Never. He could go off +on his old ship and never come back. That was +all. She would not go; and he ought not to ask +her to, anyway. To prove how much she hated +him, she nestled against his side, and his arm +enfolded her. +</p> +<p>Joel had not the outward seeming of a wise +man; nevertheless he now said: +</p> +<p>“The other girls will all be envying you. To +be married so quickly, and carried away the +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_40' name='page_40'></a>40</span> +very next day....” Her sobs miraculously +ceased, and he smiled quietly down upon her +dark head against his breast. “Every one will +do things for you.... The whole town.... +They will come down to see us sail away.” +</p> +<p>He fell silent, leaving his words for her consideration. +She remained very quiet against +his side for a long time, breathing very softly. +He thought he could almost read her +thoughts.... +</p> +<p>“It will be,” he said, “like a story. Like a +romance.” And the word sounded strangely on +his sober lips. +</p> +<p>But at the word, the girl sat up quickly, both +hands gripping his arm. He could see her eyes +dancing in the moonlight.... “Oh, Joe,” +she cried, “it would really be just loads of +fun. And terribly romantic.... Wonderful!” +She pressed a hand to her cheek, thinking: +“And I could....” +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_41' name='page_41'></a>41</span></p> +<p>She could, she said, do thus and so.... +</p> +<p>Joel listened, and he smiled. For he knew +that his bride would sail away with him. +</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_42' name='page_42'></a>42</span> +<h2>IV</h2> +</div> + +<p>In the few days that remained before the <i>Nathan +Ross</i> was to sail, there was no time for +remodeling her cabin to accommodate Priscilla; +so that was left for the first weeks of the cruise. +There were matters enough, without it, to occupy +those last days. Little Priss was caught +up like a leaf in the wind; she was whirled this +way and that in a pleasant and heart-stirring +confusion. And through it all, her laughter +rang in the air like the sound of bells. To +Joel, Sunday night, she said: “Oh, Joe ... it’s +been an awful rush. But it’s been such fun.... And +I never was so happy in my life.” +</p> +<p>And Joel smiled, and said quietly: “Yes—with +happier times to come.” +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_43' name='page_43'></a>43</span></p> +<p>She looked up at him wistfully. “You’ll be +good to me, won’t you, Joel?” He patted her +shoulder. +</p> +<p>They were married in the big old white +church, and every pew was filled. Afterwards +they all went down to the piers, where Asa +Worthen had spread long tables and loaded +them so that they groaned. Alongside lay the +<i>Nathan Ross</i>, her decks littered with the last +confusion of preparation. Joel showed Priscilla +the lumber for the cabin alterations, ranked +along the rail beneath the boathouse; and she +gripped his arm tight with both hands. Afterwards, +he took Priscilla up the hill to the great +House of Shore. Rachel had prepared their +wedding supper there.... +</p> +<p>At a quarter before ten o’clock the next morning, +the <i>Nathan Ross</i> went out with the tide. +When she had cleared the dock and was fairly +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_44' name='page_44'></a>44</span> +in the stream, Joel gave her in charge of Jim +Finch; and he and Priscilla stood in the after +house, astern, and looked back at the throng +upon the pier until the individual figures +merged into a black mass, pepper-and-salted +with color where the women stood. They +could see the handkerchiefs flickering, until a +turn of the channel swept them out of sight of +the town, and they drifted on through the widening +mouth of the bay, toward the open sea. +At dusk that night, there was still land in sight +behind them and on either side; but when Priscilla +came on deck in the morning, there was +nothing but blue water and laughing waves. +And so she was homesick, all that day, and +laughed not at all till the evening, when the +moon bathed the ship in silver fire, and the +white-caps danced all about them. +</p> +<p>The <i>Nathan Ross</i> was in no sense a lovely +ship. There was about her none of the poetry +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_45' name='page_45'></a>45</span> +of the seas. She was designed strictly for utility, +and for hard and dirty toil. Blunt she was +of bow and stern, and her widest point was just +abeam the foremast, so that she had great shoulders +that buffeted the sea. These shoulders +bent inward toward the prow and met in what +was practically a right angle; and her stern was +cut almost straight across, with only enough +overhang to give the rudder room. Furthermore, +her masts had no rake. They stood up +stiff and straight as sore thumbs; and the bowsprit, +instead of being something near horizontal, +rose toward the skies at an angle close to +forty-five degrees. This bowsprit made the +<i>Nathan Ross</i> look as though she had just +stubbed her toe. She carried four boats at the +davits; and two spare craft, bottom up, on the +boathouse just forward of the mizzenmast. +Three of the four at the davits were on the starboard +side, and since they were each thirty feet +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_46' name='page_46'></a>46</span> +long, while the ship herself was scarce a hundred +and twenty, they gave her a sadly cluttered +and overloaded appearance. For the rest, she +was painted black, with a white checkerboarding +around the rail; and her sails were smeared +and smutty with smoke from burning blubber +scraps. +</p> +<p>Nevertheless, she was a comfortable ship, +and a dry one. She rode waves that would +have swept a vessel cut on prouder lines; and +she was moderately steady. She was not fast, +nor cared to be. An easy five or six knots contented +her; for the whole ocean was her hunting +ground, and though there were certain more +favored areas, you might meet whales anywhere. +Give her time, and she would poke +that blunt nose of hers right ’round the world, +and come back with a net profit anywhere up to +a hundred and fifty thousand dollars in her +sweating casks. +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_47' name='page_47'></a>47</span></p> +<p>Priscilla Holt knew all these things, and she +respected the <i>Nathan Ross</i> on their account. +But during the first weeks of the cruise, she was +too much interested in the work on the cabin to +consider other matters. Old Aaron Burnham, +the carpenter, did the work. He was a wiry +little man, gray and grizzled; and he loved the +tools of his craft with a jealous love that forbade +the laying on of impious hands. Through +the long, calm days, when the ship snored like +a sleep-walker through the empty seas, Priscilla +would sit on box or bench or floor, and watch +Aaron at his task, and ask him questions, and +listen to the old man’s long stories of things that +had come and gone. +</p> +<p>Sometimes she tried to help him; but he +would not let her handle an edged tool. “Ye’ll +no have the eye for it,” he would say. “Leave +it be.” Now and then he let her try to drive a +nail; but as often as not she missed the nail head +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_48' name='page_48'></a>48</span> +and marred the soft wood, until Aaron lost patience +with her. “Mark you,” he cried, “men +will see the scar there, and they’ll be thinking +I did this task with my foot, Ma’am.” +</p> +<p>And Priscilla would laugh at him, and curl +up with her feet tucked under her skirts and +her chin in her hands, and watch him by the +long hour on hour. +</p> +<p>The task dragged on; it seemed to her endless. +For Aaron had other work that must be +done, and he could give only his spare time to +this. Also, he was a slow worker, accustomed +to take his own time; and when Priscilla grew +impatient and scolded him, the old man merely +sat back on his knees, and scratched his head, +and tapped thoughtfully with his hammer on +the floor beside him. +</p> +<p>“We-ell, Ma’am,” he said, “I do things so, +and I do things so; and it takes time, that does, +Ma’am.” +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_49' name='page_49'></a>49</span></p> +<p>Now and then, through those days, Priscilla’s +enthusiasm would send her skittering up the +companion to fetch Joel to see some new wonder—a +window set in the stern, or a bench completed, +or a door hung. And Joel, looking far +oftener at Priscilla than at the object she wished +him to consider, would chuckle, and touch her +shoulder affectionately, and go back to his post. +</p> +<p>In the sixth week, the last nail had been +driven, and the last lick of paint was dry. In +the result, Priscilla was as happy as a bride has +a right to be. +</p> +<p>Across the very stern of the ship, with windows +looking out upon the wake, ran what +might have been called a sitting room. It was +perhaps twenty feet wide and eight feet deep; +and its rear wall—formed by the overhanging +stern—sloped outward toward the ceiling. +Against this slope, beneath the three windows, a +broad, cushioned bench was built, to serve as +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_50' name='page_50'></a>50</span> +couch or seat. The bench was broken in one +place to make room for Joel’s desk, and the cabinet +wherein he kept his records and his instruments. +Priss had put curtains on the windows; +and she had a lily, in a pot, at one of them, and +a clump of pansies at another. Joel’s cabin +opened off this compartment, on the starboard +side; hers was opposite. The main cabin, with +its folding table built about the thick butt of +the mizzenmast, had been extended forward to +make room for the enlargement of this stern +apartment; and the mates were quartered off +this main cabin. The galley and the store +rooms were on the main deck, in the after house, +on either side of the awkward “walking wheel” +by which the ship was steered; and the cabin +companion was just forward of this wheel. +</p> +<p>There were aboard the <i>Nathan Ross</i> about +thirty men, all told; but the most of them were +not of Priscilla’s world. The foremast hands +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_51' name='page_51'></a>51</span> +never came aft of the try works, save on tasks +assigned; and the secondary officers—boat-steerers +and the like—slept in the steerage and kept +forward of the boathouse. Thus the after deck +was shared only by Priscilla and Joel, the +mates, the cook, and old Aaron, who was a man +of many privileges. +</p> +<p>This world, Priscilla ruled. Joel adored +her; Jim Finch gave her the clumsy homage of +a puppy—and was at times just as oppressively +amiable. Old Aaron talked to her by the hour, +while he went about his work. And the other +mates—Varde, the sullen; and Hooper, who +was old and losing his grip; and Dick Morrell, +who was young and finding his—paid her the +respect that was her due. Young Morrell—he +was not even as old as she was—helped her +on her first climb to the mast head. He was +only a boy.... The girl, when the first homesick +pangs were past, was happy. +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_52' name='page_52'></a>52</span></p> +<p>Until the day they killed their whale, a seventy-barrel +cachalot cow who died as peaceably +as a chicken, with only a convulsive flop or two +when the lances found the life. Priscilla took +a single glimpse of the shuddering, bloody, oily +work of cutting in the carcass, and then she fled +to her cabin and remained there steadfastly until +the long task was done. The smoke from +the bubbling try pots, and the persistent smell +of boiling blubber sickened her; and the grime +that descended over everything appalled her +dainty soul. Not until the men had cleaned +ship did she go on deck again; and even then +she scolded Joel for the affair as though it were +a matter for which he was wholly to blame. +</p> +<p>“There just isn’t any sense in making so much +dirt,” she told him. “I’ve had to wash out +every one of my curtains; and I can’t ever get +rid of that smell.” +</p> +<p>Joel chuckled. “Aye, the smell sticks,” he +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_53' name='page_53'></a>53</span> +agreed. “But you’ll be used to it soon, Priss. +You’ll come to like it, I’m thinking. Any case, +we’ll not be rid of it while the cruise is on.” +</p> +<p>She was so angry that she wanted to cry. +“Do you actually mean, Joel Shore, that I’ve +got to live with that sickening, hot-oil smell for +th-three years?” +</p> +<p>He nodded slowly. “Yes, Priss. No way +out of it. It’s part of the work. Come another +month, and you’ll not mind at all.” +</p> +<p>She said positively: “I may not say anything, +but I shall always hate that smell.” +</p> +<p>His eyes twinkled slowly; and she stamped +her foot. “If I’d known it was going to be like +this, I wouldn’t have come, Joel. Now don’t +you laugh at me. If there was any way to go +back, I’d go. I hate it. I hate it all. You +ought not to have brought me....” +</p> +<p>They were on the broad bench across the +stern, in their cabin; and he put his big arm +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_54' name='page_54'></a>54</span> +about her shoulders and laughed at her till she +could do no less than laugh back at him. But—she +assured herself of this—she was angry, +just the same. Nevertheless, she laughed.... +</p> +<p>Joel had put the <i>Nathan Ross</i> on the most +direct southward course, touching neither Azores +nor Cape Verdes. For it was in his mind, as he +had told Asa Worthen, to make direct for the +Gilbert Islands and seek some trace of his +brother there. That had been his plan before +he left port; but the plan had become determination +after a word with Aaron Burnham, one +day. Joel, resting in the cabin while old Aaron +worked there, fell to thinking of his brother, +and so asked: +</p> +<p>“Aaron, what is your belief about my brother, +Mark Shore? Is he dead?” +</p> +<p>Aaron was building, that day, the forward +partition of the new cabin, fitting his boards +meticulously, and driving home each nail with +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_55' name='page_55'></a>55</span> +hammer strokes that seemed smooth and effortless, +yet sank the nail to the head in an instant. +He looked up over his shoulder at Joel, between +nails. +</p> +<p>“Dead, d’ye say?” he countered quizzically. +</p> +<p>Joel nodded. “The Islanders? Did they +do it, do you believe?” +</p> +<p>Old Aaron chuckled asthmatically. He had +lost a fore tooth, and the effect of his mirth was +not reassuring. “There’s a brew i’ the Islands,” +he said. “More like ’twas the island +brew nor the island men.” +</p> +<p>Joel, for a moment, sat very still and considered. +He knew Mark Shore had never +scrupled to take strong drink when he chose; +but Mark had always been a strong man to +match his drink, and conquer it. Said Joel, +therefore, after a space of thought: +</p> +<p>“Why do you think that, Aaron? Drink +was never like to carry Mark away.” +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_56' name='page_56'></a>56</span></p> +<p>Aaron squinted up at him. “Have ye sampled +that island brew? ’Tis made of pineapples, +or sago, or the like outlandish stuff, I’ve +heard. And one sip is deviltry, and two is +madness, and three is corruption. Some stomachs +are used to it; they can handle it. But a +raw man....” +</p> +<p>There was significance in the pause, and the +unfinished sentence. Joel considered the matter. +There had always been, between him and +Mark, something of that sleeping enmity that so +often arises between brothers. Mark was a +man swift of tongue, flashing, and full of laughter +and hot blood; a colorful man, like a splash +of pigment on white canvas. Joel was in all +things his opposite, quiet, and slow of thought +and speech, and steady of gait. Mark was accustomed +to jeer at him, to taunt him; and Joel, +in the slow fashion of slow men, had resented +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_57' name='page_57'></a>57</span> +this. Nevertheless, he cast aside prejudice now +in his estimate of the situation; and he asked +old Aaron: +</p> +<p>“Do you know there were Islanders about? +Or this wild brew you speak of?” +</p> +<p>Aaron drove home a nail, and with his punch +set it flush with the soft wood. “There was +some drunken crew, shouting and screeching a +mile up the beach,” he said. “Some few of +them came off to us with fruit. The sober ones. +’Twas them Mark Shore went to pandander +with.” +</p> +<p>“He went to them?” Joel echoed. Aaron +nodded. +</p> +<p>“Aye. That he did.” +</p> +<p>There was a long moment of silence before +Joel asked huskily: “But was it like that he +should stay with them freely?” For it is a +black and shameful thing that a captain should +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_58' name='page_58'></a>58</span> +desert his ship. When he had asked the question, +he waited in something like fear for the +carpenter’s answer. +</p> +<p>“It comes to me,” said Aaron slowly at last, +“that you did not well know your brother. +Ye’d only seen him ashore. And—I’m doubting +that you knew all the circumstances of his +departure from this ship.” +</p> +<p>“I know that he went ashore,” said Joel. +“Went ashore, and left his men, and departed; +and I know that they searched for him three +weeks without a sign.” +</p> +<p>Aaron sat back on his heels, and rubbed the +smooth head of his hammer thoughtfully +against his dry old cheek. “I’m not one to +speak harm,” he said. “And I’ve said naught, +in the town. But—you have some right to +know that Mark Shore was not a sober man +when he left the ship. I’ truth, he had not +been sober—cold sober—for a week. And he +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_59' name='page_59'></a>59</span> +left with a bottle in his coat.” He nodded his +gray old head, eyes not on Joel, but on the hammer +in his hand. “Also, there was a pearling +schooner in the lagoon, with drunk white men +aboard.” +</p> +<p>He glanced sidewise at Joel then, and saw +the Captain’s cheek bones slowly whiten. +Whereupon old Aaron bent swiftly to his task, +half fearful of what he had said. But when +Joel spoke, it was only to say quietly: +</p> +<p>“Asa should have told me this.” +</p> +<p>Aaron shook his head vehemently, but without +looking up from his task. “Not so,” he +said. “There was no need the town should +chew Mark’s name. Better—” He glanced +at Joel. “Better if he were thought dead. +Asa’s a good man, you mind. And—he knew +your father.” +</p> +<p>Joel nodded at that. “Asa meant wisest, +I’ve no doubt,” he agreed. “But—Mark +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_60' name='page_60'></a>60</span> +would do nothing that he was shamed of.” +</p> +<p>“Mark Shore,” said Aaron thoughtfully, “did +many things without shame for which other men +would have blushit.” +</p> +<p>Joel said curtly: “Aaron, ye’ll say no more +such things as that.” +</p> +<p>“Ye’re right,” Aaron agreed. “I should no +have said it. But—’tis so.” +</p> +<p>Joel left him and went on deck, and his eyes +were troubled.... Priss was there, with Dick +Morrell showing her some trick of the wheel, +and they were laughing together like children. +Joel felt immensely older than Priss.... Yet +the difference was scarce six years.... She +saw him, and left Morrell and came running to +Joel’s side. “Did you sleep?” she asked. +“You needed rest, Joe.” +</p> +<p>“I rested,” he told her, smiling faintly. +“I’ll be fine....” +</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_61' name='page_61'></a>61</span> +<h2>V</h2> +</div> + +<p>They drifted past Pernambuco, and +touched at Trinidad, and so worked +south and somewhat westward for Cape Horn. +And in Joel grew, stronger and ever, the resolve +to hunt out Mark, and find him, and fetch him +home.... The blood tie was strong on Joel; +stronger than any memory of Mark’s derision. +And—for the honor of the House of Shore, it +were well to prove the matter, if Mark were +dead. It is not well for a Shore to abandon +his ship in strange seas. +</p> +<p>He asked Aaron, two weeks after their first +talk, whether they had questioned the white men +on the pearling schooner. +</p> +<p>“Oh, aye,” said Aaron cheerfully. “I sought +’em out, myself. Three of them, they was; +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_62' name='page_62'></a>62</span> +and ill-favored. A slinky small man, and a +rat-eyed large man, and a fat man in between; +all unshaven, and filthy, and drunken as owls. +They’d seen naught of Mark Shore, they said. +I’m thinking he’d let them see but little of him. +He had no tenderness for dirt.” +</p> +<p>Joel told Priss nothing of what he hoped and +feared; nor did he question Jim Finch in the +matter. Finch was a good man at set tasks, but +he was too amiable, and he had no clamp upon +his lips.... Joel did not wish the word to go +abroad among the men. He was glad that +most of the crew were new since last voyage; +but the officers were unchanged, save that he +stood in his brother’s shoes. +</p> +<p>They left Trinidad behind them, and shouldered +their way southward, the blunt bow of +the <i>Nathan Ross</i> battering the seas. And they +came to the Straits, and worked in, and made +their westing day by day, while little Priss, +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_63' name='page_63'></a>63</span> +wide-eyed on the deck, watched the gaunt cliffs +past whose wave-gnawed feet they stole. And +so at last the Pacific opened out before them, +and they caught the winds, and worked toward +Easter Island. +</p> +<p>But their progress was slow. To men unschooled +in the patience of the whaling trade, it +would have been insufferably slow. For they +struck fish; and day after day they hung idle on +the waves while the trypots boiled; and day +after day they loitered on good whaling +grounds, when the boats were out thrice and +four times between sun’s rise and set. If Joel +was impatient, he gave no sign. If his desires +would have made him hasten on, his duty held +him here, where rich catches waited for the taking; +and while there were fish to be taken, he +would not leave them behind. +</p> +<p>Priscilla hated it. She hated the grime, and +the smoke, and the smell of boiling oil; and she +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_64' name='page_64'></a>64</span> +hated this dawdling on the open seas, with never +a glimpse of land. More than once she made +Joel bear the brunt of her own unrest; and because +it is not always good for two people to be +too much together, and because she had nothing +better to do, she began to pick Joel to pieces in +her thoughts, and fret at his patience and stolidity. +She wished he would grow angry, wished +even that he might be angry with her.... She +wished for anything to break the long days of +deadly calm. And she watched Joel more intently +than it is well for wife to watch husband, +or for husband to watch wife. +</p> +<p>He did so many things that tried her sore. +He had a fashion, when he had finished eating, +of setting his hands against the table and pushing +himself back from the board with slow and +solid satisfaction. She came to the point where +she longed to scream when he did this. When +they were at table in the main cabin, she +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_65' name='page_65'></a>65</span> +watched with such agony of trembling nerves +for that movement of his that she forgot to eat, +and could not relish what she ate. +</p> +<p>Joel was a man, and his life was moving +smoothly. His ship’s casks were filling more +swiftly than he had any right to hope; his wife +was at his side; his skies were clear. He was +happy, and comfortable, and well content. +Sometimes, when they were preparing for sleep, +at night, in the cabin at the stern, he would relax +on the couch there. But she did not wish +for him to put his feet upon the cushions; she +said that his shoes were dirty. He offered to +take off his shoes; and she shuddered.... +</p> +<p>He had a fashion of stretching and yawning +comfortably as he bade her good night; and +sometimes a yawn caught him in the middle of a +word, and he talked while he yawned. She +hated this. She was passing through that hard +middle ground, that purgatory between maidenhood +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_66' name='page_66'></a>66</span> +and wifehood in the course of which married +folk find each other only human, after all. +And she had not yet come to accept this condition, +and to glory in it. She had always +thought of Joel as a hero, a protector, a fine, +stalwart, able, noble man. Now she forgot +that he was commander of this ship and master +of the men aboard her, and saw in him only a +man who, when work was done, liked to take his +ease—and who talked through his yawns. +</p> +<p>She gnawed at this bone of discontent, in the +hours when Joel was busy with his work. She +was furiously resentful of Joel’s flesh-and-bloodness.... +And Joel, because he was too +busy to be introspective, continued calmly +happy and content. +</p> +<p>The whales led them past Easter Island for +a space; and then, abruptly, they were gone. +Came day on day when the men at the masthead +saw no misty spout against the wide blue +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_67' name='page_67'></a>67</span> +of the sea, no glistening black body lying awash +among the waves. And the Nathan Ross, with +all hands scrubbing white the decks again, bent +northward, working toward that maze of tiny +islands which dots the wide South Seas. +</p> +<p>Their water was getting stale, and running +somewhat low; and they needed fresh foodstuffs. +Joel planned to touch at the first land +that offered. Tubuai, that would be. He +marked their progress on the chart. +</p> +<p>On the evening before they would reach the +island, when Joel and Priss were preparing for +sleep, Priss burst out furiously, like a teapot +that boils over. The storm came without warning, +and—so far as Joel could see—without +provocation. She was sick, she said, of the +endless wastes of blue. She wanted to see land. +To step on it. If she were not allowed to do so +very soon, she would die. +</p> +<p>Joel, at first, was minded to tell her they +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_68' name='page_68'></a>68</span> +would sight land in the morning; then, with one +of the blundering impulses to which husbands +fall victim at such moments, he decided to wait +and surprise her. So, instead of telling her, he +chuckled as though at some secret jest, and tried +to quiet her by patting her dark head. +</p> +<p>She fell silent at his caress; and Joel thought +she was appeased. As a matter of fact, she was +hating him for having laughed at her; and her +calm was ferocious. He discovered this, too +late.... +</p> +<p>He had just kissed her good night. She +turned her cheek to his lips; and he was faintly +hurt at this. But he only said cheerfully: +“There, Priss.... You’ll be all right in the +morning....” +</p> +<p>He yawned in mid-sentence, so that the last +two or three words sounded as though he were +trying to swallow a large and hot potato while +he uttered them. Priss could stand no more of +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_69' name='page_69'></a>69</span> +that. Positively. So she slapped his face. +</p> +<p>He was amazed; and he stood, looking at her +helplessly, while the slapped cheek grew red and +red. Priss burst into tears, stamped her foot, +called him names she did not mean, and as a +climax, darted into her own cabin, and swung +the door, and snapped the latch. +</p> +<p>Joel did not in the least understand; and he +went to his bunk at last, profoundly troubled. +</p> +<p>An hour after they anchored, the next day, at +Tubuai, a boat came out from shore and ran +alongside, and Mark Shore swung across the +rail, aboard the <i>Nathan Ross</i>. +</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_70' name='page_70'></a>70</span> +<h2>VI</h2> +</div> + +<p>Joel was below, in the cabin with Priss, +when his brother boarded the ship. Varde +and Dick Morrell had gone ashore for water +and supplies, and Priss was to go that afternoon, +with Joel. She was sewing a ribbon rosette +upon the hat she would wear, when she and +Joel heard the sound of excited voices, and the +movement of feet on the deck above their head. +He left her, curled up on the cushioned bench, +with the gay ribbon in her hands, and went out +through the main cabin, and up the companion. +He had been trying, clumsily enough, to make +friends with Priss; but she was very much on +her dignity that morning.... +</p> +<p>When his head rose above the level of the +cabin skylight, he saw a group of men near the +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_71' name='page_71'></a>71</span> +rail, amidships. Finch, and Hooper, and old +Aaron Burnham, and two of the harpooners, all +pressing close about another man.... Finch +obscured this other man from Joel’s view, until +he climbed up on deck. Then he saw that the +other man was his brother. +</p> +<p>He went forward to join them; and it +chanced that at first no one of them looked in +his direction. Mark’s back was half-turned; +but Joel could see that his brother was lean, and +bronzed by the sun. And he wore no hat, and +his thick, black hair was rumpled and wild. +The white shirt that he wore was open at the +throat above his brown neck. His arms were +bare to the elbows. His chest was like a barrel. +There was a splendor of strength and +vigor about the man, in the very look of him, +and in his eye, and his voice, and his laughter. +He seemed to shine, like the sun.... +</p> +<p>Joel, as he came near them, heard Mark +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_72' name='page_72'></a>72</span> +laugh throatily at something Finch had said; +and he heard Finch say unctuously: “Be sure, +Captain Shore, every man aboard here is +damned glad you’ve come back to us. You +were missed, missed sore, sir.” +</p> +<p>Mark laughed again, at that; and he clapped +Jim’s fat shoulder. The action swung him +around so that he saw Joel for the first time. +Joel thrust out his hand. +</p> +<p>“Mark, man! They said you were dead,” +he exclaimed. +</p> +<p>Mark Shore’s eyes narrowed for an instant, +in a quick, appraising scrutiny of his brother. +“Dead?” he laughed, jeeringly. “Do I look +dead?” He stared at Joel more closely, +glanced at the other men, and chuckled. “By +the Lord, kid,” he cried, “I believe old Asa has +put you in my shoes.” +</p> +<p>Joel nodded. “He gave me command of the +<i>Nathan Ross</i>. Yes.” +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_73' name='page_73'></a>73</span></p> +<p>Mark looked sidewise at big Jim Finch, and +grinned. “Over your head, eh, Jim? Too +damned bad!” +</p> +<p>Finch grinned. “I had no wish for the place, +sir. You see, I felt very sure you would be +coming back to your own.” +</p> +<p>Mark tilted back his head and laughed. +“You were always a very cautious man, Jim +Finch. Never jumped till you were sure where +you would land.” He wheeled on Joel. +“Well, boy—how does it feel to wear long +pants?” +</p> +<p>Joel, holding his anger in check, said slowly: +“We’ve done well. Close on eight hundred +barrel aboard.” +</p> +<p>Mark wagged his head in solemn reproof. +“Joey, Joey, you’ve been fiddling away your +time. I can see that!” +</p> +<p>Over his brother’s shoulder, Joel saw the +grinning face of big Jim Finch, and his eyes +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_74' name='page_74'></a>74</span> +hardened. He said quietly: “If that’s your +tone, Mark, you’ll call back your boat and go +ashore.” +</p> +<p>A flame surged across Mark’s cheek; and he +took one swift, terrible step toward his brother. +But Joel did not give ground; and after a moment +in which their eyes clashed like swords, +Mark relaxed, and laughed and bowed low. +</p> +<p>“I was wrong, grievously wrong, Captain +Shore,” he said sonorously. “I neglected the +respect due your office. Your high office, sir. +I thank you for reminding me of the—the proprieties, +Captain.” And he added, in a different +tone, “Now will you not invite me aft on +your ship, sir?” +</p> +<p>Joel hesitated for a bare instant, caught by a +vague foreboding that he could not explain. +But in the end he nodded, as though in answer +to the unspoken question in his thoughts. +“Will you come down into the cabin, Mark?” +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_75' name='page_75'></a>75</span> +he invited quietly. “I’ve much to ask you; +and you must have many things to tell.” +</p> +<p>Mark nodded. “I will come,” he said; and +his eyes lighted suddenly, and he dropped a +hand on Joel’s shoulder. “Aye, Joel,” he said +softly, into his brother’s ear, as they went aft +together. “Aye, I’ve much to tell. Many +things and marvelous. Matters you’d scarce +credit, Joel.” Joel looked at him quickly, and +Mark nodded. “True they are, Joel,” he cried +exultantly. “Marvelous—and true as good, +red gold.” +</p> +<p>At the tone, and the eager light in his brother’s +eyes, Joel’s slow pulses quickened, but he +said nothing. At the top of the cabin companion, +he stepped aside to let Mark descend first; +and Mark went down the steep and awkward +stair with the easy, sliding gait of a great cat. +Joel, behind him, could see the muscles stir and +swell upon his shoulders. In the cabin, Mark +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_76' name='page_76'></a>76</span> +halted abruptly, and looked about, and exclaimed: +“You’ve changed things, Joel. I’d +not know the ship.” +</p> +<p>The door into Priscilla’s cabin, across the +stern, was open. Priss had finished that matter +of the ribbon, and was watering her flowers, +kneeling on the bench, when she heard Mark’s +voice, and knew it. And she cried, in surprise +and joy: “Mark! Oh—Mark!” And she +ran to the door, and stood there, framed for +Mark’s eyes against the light behind her, hands +holding to the door frame on either side. +</p> +<p>Mark cried delightedly: “Priss Holt!” +And he was at her side in an instant, and caught +her without ceremony, and kissed her roundly, +as he had been accustomed to do when he came +home from the sea. But he must have been a +blind man not to have seen in that first moment +that Priss was no longer child, but woman. +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_77' name='page_77'></a>77</span> +And Mark was not blind. He kissed her till +she laughingly fought herself free. +</p> +<p>“Mark!” she cried again. “You’re not dead. +I knew you couldn’t be....” +</p> +<p>Joel, behind them, at sight of Priscilla in his +brother’s arms, had stirred with a quick rush of +anger; but he was ashamed of it in the next moment, +and stood still where he was. Mark held +Priss by the shoulders, laughing down at her. +</p> +<p>“And how did you know I couldn’t be dead?” +he demanded. “Miss Wise Lady.” +</p> +<p>She moved her head confusedly. “Oh—you +were always so—so alive, or something.... +You just couldn’t be....” +</p> +<p>He chuckled, released her, and stood away +and surveyed her. “Priss, Priss,” he said contritely, +“you’re not a little kid any longer. +Dresses down, and hair up....” He wagged +his head. “It’s a wonder you did not slap my +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_78' name='page_78'></a>78</span> +face.” And then he looked from her to Joel, +and abruptly he tossed his great head back and +laughed aloud. “By the Lord,” he roared. +“The children are married. Married....” +</p> +<p>Priscilla flushed furiously, and stamped her +foot at him. “Of course we’re married,” she +cried. “Did you think I’d come clear around +the world with....” Her words were smothered +in her own hot blushes, and Mark laughed +again, until she cried: “Stop it. I won’t have +you laughing at us. Joel—make him stop!” +</p> +<p>Mark sobered instantly, and he backed away +from Joel in mock panic, both hands raised, defensively, +so that they laughed at him. When +they laughed, he cast aside his panic, and sat +down on the cushions, stretching his legs luxuriously +before him. “Now,” he exclaimed. +“Tell me all about it. When, and why, and +how?” +</p> +<p>Priss dropped on the bench beside him, feet +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_79' name='page_79'></a>79</span> +tucked under her in the miraculous fashion of +small women; and she enumerated her answers +on the pink tips of her fingers. “When?” she +repeated. “The day before we sailed. Why? +Just because. How? In the same old way.” +She waved her hand, as though disposing of the +matter once and for all, and looked up at him, +and laughed. Joel thought she had not seemed +so completely happy since the day the cabin was +finished. “So,” she said, “that’s all there is to +tell you about us. Tell us about you.” +</p> +<p>Mark’s eyes twinkled. “Ah, now, what’s the +use? That will come later. Besides—some +chapters are not for gentle ears.” He nodded +toward Joel. “So you love the boy, yonder?” +</p> +<p>Priss bobbed her head, red lips pursed, eyes +dancing. +</p> +<p>“Why?” Mark demanded. “What do you +discover in him?” +</p> +<p>She looked at Joel, and they laughed together +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_80' name='page_80'></a>80</span> +as though at some delightful secret, mutually +shared. Mark wagged his head dolorously. +“And I suppose he’s wild about you?” he asked. +</p> +<p>She nodded more vigorously than ever. +</p> +<p>Mark rubbed his hands together. He looked +at Joel, with a faintly malicious twinkle in his +eyes. “Well, now!” he exclaimed. “That is +certainly the best of news....” Joel saw the +mocking and malignant little devil in his eye. +“I’ve never had a kid sister,” said Mark gayly. +“And it’s been the great sorrow of my life, +Priss. So, Joel, you must expect Priss and +myself to turn out the very best of friends.” +</p> +<p>And Priscilla, on the seat beside him, nodded +her lovely head once more. “I should say so,” +she exclaimed. +</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_81' name='page_81'></a>81</span> +<h2>VII</h2> +</div> + +<p>Mark Shore held something like a reception, +on the <i>Nathan Ross</i>, all that +first day. He went forward among the men +to greet old friends and meet new ones, and +came back and complimented Joel on the quality +of his crew. “You’ve made good men of +them,” he said. “Those that weren’t good men +before.” +</p> +<p>He listened, with a smile half contemptuous, +to Jim Finch’s somewhat slavish phrases of welcome +and admiration; and he talked with +Varde, the morose second mate, so gayly that +even Varde was cozened at last into a grin. +Old Hooper was pathetically glad to see him. +Hooper had been mate of the ship on which +Mark started out as a boy; and he liked to hark +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_82' name='page_82'></a>82</span> +back to those days. Young Dick Morrell, on +his trips from the shore, gave Mark frank worship. +</p> +<p>Joel saw all this. He could not help seeing +it. And he told himself, again and again, that +it was only to be expected. Mark had captained +this ship, had captained these men, on +their last cruise; they had thought him dead. +It was only natural that they should welcome +him back to life again.... +</p> +<p>But even while he gave himself this reassurance, +he knew that it was untrue. There +was more than mere welcome in the attitude of +the men; there was more than admiration. +There was a quality of awe that was akin to +worship; and there was, beneath this awe, a +lively curiosity as to what Mark would do.... +They knew him for a quick man, dominant, one +with the will to lead; and now he found himself +supplanted, dependent on the word of his +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_83' name='page_83'></a>83</span> +own younger brother.... Every one knew +that Mark and Joel had always been rather enemies +than comrades; so, now, they wondered, +and waited, and watched with all their eyes. +Joel saw them, by twos and threes, whispering +together about the ship; and he knew what it +was they were asking each other. +</p> +<p>Of all those on the <i>Nathan Ross</i> that day, +Mark himself seemed least conscious of the dramatic +possibilities of the situation. He was +glad to be back among friends; but beyond that +he did not go. He gave Joel an exaggerated +measure of respect, so extreme that it was worse +than scorn or mockery. Otherwise, he took no +notice of the potentialities created by his return. +</p> +<p>Priss had planned to go ashore in the afternoon; +but Mark dissuaded her. This was not +difficult; he did it so laughingly and so dextrously +that Priss changed her mind without +knowing just why she did so. Mark took it +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_84' name='page_84'></a>84</span> +upon himself to make up for her disappointment; +they were together most of the long, hot +afternoon. Joel could hear their laughter now +and then. +</p> +<p>He had expected to go ashore with Priss; but +when she came to him and said: “Joel, Mark +says it’s just dirty and hot and ugly, ashore, and +I’m not going,” he changed his mind. There +was no need of his making the trip, after all. +Varde and Morrell had brought out water, towing +long strings of almost-filled casks behind +their boats; and boats from the shore had come +off to sell fresh food. So at dusk, the anchor +came up, and the <i>Nathan Ross</i> spread her dingy +sails, and stalked out of the harbor with the utmost +dignity in every stiff line of her, and the +night behind them swallowed up the island. +Mark and Priss were astern to watch it blend in +the darkness and lose itself; and Priss, when +their last glimpse of it faded, heard the man +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_85' name='page_85'></a>85</span> +draw a deep breath of something like relief. +She looked up at him with wide, curious eyes. +</p> +<p>“What is it?” she asked softly. “Were you—unhappy +there?” +</p> +<p>Mark laughed aloud. “My dear Priss,” he +said, in the elder-brother manner he affected toward +her. “My dear Priss, the South Sea Islands +are no place for a white man, especially +when he is alone. I’m glad to get back in the +smell of oil, with an honest deck underfoot. +And I don’t mind saying so.” +</p> +<p>Priss shuddered, and wrinkled her nose. +“Ugh, how I hate that smell,” she exclaimed. +“But, Mark—tell me where you’ve been, and +what you did, and—everything. Why won’t +you tell?” +</p> +<p>He wagged his head at her severely. “Children,” +he said, “should be seen and not heard.” +</p> +<p>She stamped her foot. “I’m not a child. +I’m a woman.” +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_86' name='page_86'></a>86</span></p> +<p>He bent toward her suddenly, his dark eyes +so close to hers that she could see the flickering +flame which played in them, and the twist of his +smile. “I wonder!” he whispered. “Oh—I +wonder if you are....” +</p> +<p>She was frightened, deliciously.... +</p> +<p>Mark had persisted, all day long, in his refusal +to tell her of himself. He had dropped a +sentence now and then that brought to life in +her imagination a strange, wild picture.... +But always he set a bar upon his lips, caught +back the words, refused to explain what it was +he had meant to say. When she persisted, he +laughed at her and told her he only did it to be +mysterious. “Mystery is always interesting, +you understand,” he explained. “And—I wish +to be very interesting to you, Priss.” +</p> +<p>She looked around the after deck for Joel; +but he was below in the cabin, and she decided, +abruptly, that she must go down.... +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_87' name='page_87'></a>87</span></p> +<p>They had bought chickens at Tubuai, and +they had two of them, boiled, for supper that +night in the cabin. It was a feast, after the +long months of sober diet; and the presence of +Mark made it something more. He was a good +talker, and without revealing anything of the +months of his disappearance, he nevertheless +told them stories that held each one breathless +with interest. But after supper, he went on +deck with Finch, and Joel and Priss sat in the +cabin astern for a while; and Joel wrote up, in +the ship’s log, the story of his brother’s return. +Priss read it over his shoulder, and afterwards +she clung close to Joel. “He’s a terribly—overwhelming +man, isn’t he?” she whispered. +</p> +<p>Joel looked down at her, and smiled thoughtfully. +“Aye, Mark’s a big man,” he agreed. +“Big—in many ways. But—you’ll be used to +him presently, Priss.” +</p> +<p>When she prepared to go to bed, he bade her +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_88' name='page_88'></a>88</span> +good night and left her, and went on deck; and +Priss, in her narrow bunk in the cabin at the side +of the ship, lay wide-eyed with many thoughts +stirring in her small head. She was still awake +when she heard them come down into the main +cabin together, Joel and Mark. The walls +were thin; she could hear their words, and she +heard Mark ask: “Sure Priss is asleep? +There are parts—not for the pretty ears of a +bride, Joel.” +</p> +<p>Priss was not asleep, but when Joel came to +see, she closed her eyes, and lay as still as still, +scarce breathing. Joel bent over her softly; +and he touched her head, clumsily, with his +hand, and patted it, and went away again, closing +her door behind him. She heard him tell +Mark: “Aye, she’s fast asleep.” +</p> +<p>The brothers sat by Joel’s desk, in the cabin +across the stern; and Mark, without preamble, +told his story there. Priss, ten feet away, heard +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_89' name='page_89'></a>89</span> +every word; and she lay huddled beneath the +blankets, eyes staring upward into the darkness +of her cabin; and as she listened, she shuddered +and trembled and shrank at the terror and wonder +and ugliness of the tale he told. No Desdemona +ever listened with such half-caught +breath.... +</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_90' name='page_90'></a>90</span> +<h2>VIII</h2> +</div> + +<p>“You’re blaming me,” said Mark, when +he and Joel were puffing at their pipes, +“for leaving my ship.” +</p> +<p>Joel said slowly: “No. But I do not understand +it.” +</p> +<p>Mark laughed, a soft and throaty laugh. +“You would not, Joel. You would not. For +you never felt an overwhelming notion that you +must dance in the moon upon the sand. +You’ve never felt that, Joel; and—I have.” +</p> +<p>“I’m not a hand for dancing,” said Joel. +</p> +<p>Mark seemed to forget that his brother sat +beside him. His eyes became misty and +thoughtful, as though he were living over again +the days of which he spoke. “Mind, Joel,” he +said, “there’s a pagan in every man of us. And +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_91' name='page_91'></a>91</span> +there’s two pagans in some of us. And I’m +minded, Joel, that there are three of them in +me. ’Twas so, that night.” +</p> +<p>“It was night when you left the ship?” +</p> +<p>“Aye, night. Night, and the moon; and it +may have been that I had been drinking a drop +or two. Also, as you shall see, I was not well. +I tell these things, not by way of excuse and +palliation; but only so that you may understand. +D’ye see? I was three pagans in one +body, and that body witched by moon, and +twisted by drink, and trembling with fever. +And so it was I went ashore, and flung my men +behind me, and went off, dancing, along the +hard sand. +</p> +<p>“That was a night, Joel. A slow-winded, +warm, trembling night when there was a song in +the very air. The wind tingled on your throat +like a woman’s finger tips; and the sea was singing +at the one side, and the wind in the palms on +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_92' name='page_92'></a>92</span> +the other. And ahead of me, the wild, discordant +chanting of the Islanders about their fires.... +That singing it was that got me by the +throat, and led me. I twirled around and +around, very solemnly, by myself in the moonlight +on the sand; and all the time I went onward +toward the fires.... +</p> +<p>“I remember, when I came in sight of the +fires, I threw away my coat and ran in among +them. And they scattered, and yelled their +harsh, meaningless, throaty yells. And they +hid in the bush to stare at me by the fire.... +They hid in the rank, thick grasses. All except +one, Joel.” +</p> +<p>Joel, listening, watched his brother and saw +through his brother’s eyes; for he knew, for all +his slow blood, the witchery of those warm, +southern nights. +</p> +<p>“The moon was on her,” said Mark. “The +moon was on her, and there was a red blossom +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_93' name='page_93'></a>93</span> +in her hair, and some strings of things that +clothed her. A little brown girl, with eyes like +the eyes of a deer. And—not afraid of me. +That was the thing that got me, Joel. She +stood in my path, met me, watched me; and +her eyes were not afraid.... +</p> +<p>“She was very little. She was only a child. +I suppose we would call her sixteen or seventeen +years old. But they ripen quickly, Joel—these +Island children. Her little shoulders were as +smooth and soft.... You could not even mark +the ridge of her collar bones, she was fleshed so +sweetly. She stood, and watched me; and the +others crept out of the grasses, at last, and stood +about us. And then this little brown girl held +up her hand to me, and pointed me out to the +others, and said something. I did not know +what it was that she said; but I know now. +She said that I was sick. +</p> +<p>“I did not know then that I was sick. When +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_94' name='page_94'></a>94</span> +she lifted her hand to me, I caught it; and I began +to lead her in a wild dance, in the moonlight, +about their dying fires. I could see them, +in the shadows, their eyeballs shining as they +watched us.... And they seemed, after a little, +to move about in a misty, inhuman fashion; +and they twisted into strange, cloud-like shapes. +And I stopped to laugh at them, and my head +dropped down before I could catch it and struck +against the earth, and the earth forsook me, +Joel, and left me swimming in nothing at +all.... +</p> +<p>“My memory was a long time in coming back +to me, Joel. It would peep out at me like a +timid child, hiding among the trees. I would +see it for an instant; then ’twould be gone. +But I know it must have been many days that I +was on the island there. And I knew, after +a time, that I was most extremely sick; and the +little brown girl put cool leaves on my head, +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_95' name='page_95'></a>95</span> +and gave me strange brews to drink, and rubbed +and patted my chest and my body with her +hands in a fashion that was immensely comfortable +and strengthening. And I twisted on a +bed of coarse grass.... And I remember singing, +at times....” +</p> +<p>He looked toward Joel, eyes suddenly flaming. +“Eh, Joel, I tell you I was not three +pagans, but six, in those days. The thing’s +clear beyond your guessing, Joel. But it was +big. An immense thing. I was back at the beginning +of the world, with food, and drink, and +my woman.... It was big, I tell you. Big!” +</p> +<p>His eyes clouded—he fell silent, and so at +last went on again. “I was asleep one night, +tossing in my sleep. And something woke me. +And I laid my hand on the spot beside me where +the little brown girl used to lie, and she was +gone. So I got up, unsteadily. There were +rifles snapping in the night; and there were +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_96' name='page_96'></a>96</span> +screams. And I heard a white man’s black +curse; and the slap of a blow of flesh on flesh. +And the screams. +</p> +<p>“So I went that way; and the sounds retreated +before me, until I came out, unsteadily, +upon the open beach. There was no moon, that +night; and the water of the lagoon was shot +with fire. And there was a boat, pulling away +from the beach, with screaming in it. +</p> +<p>“I swam after the boat for a long time, for I +thought I had heard the voice of the little brown +girl. The water was full of fire. When I +lifted my arms, the fire ran down them in +streams and drops. And sometimes I forgot +what I was about, and stopped to laugh at these +drops of fire. But in the end, I always swam +on. I remember once I thought the little brown +girl swam beside me, and I tried to throw my +arm about her, and she wrenched away, and she +burned me like a brand. I found, afterwards, +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_97' name='page_97'></a>97</span> +what that was. My breast and sides were +rasped and raw where a shark’s rough skin had +scraped them. I’ve wondered, Joel, why the +beast did not take me.... +</p> +<p>“But he did not; for I bumped at last into +the boat, and climbed into it, and it was empty. +But I saw a rope at the end of it, and I pulled +the rope, and came to the schooner’s stern, and +climbed aboard her.” +</p> +<p>His voice was ringing, exultantly and +proudly. “I swung aboard,” he said. “And +I stumbled over fighting bodies on the deck, +astern there. And some one cried out, in the +waist of her; and I knew it was the little brown +girl. So I left those struggling bodies at the +stern, for they were not my concern; and I went +forward to the waist. And I found her there. +</p> +<p>“A fat man had her. She was fighting him; +and he did not see me. And I put my fingers +quietly into his neck, from behind; and when he +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_98' name='page_98'></a>98</span> +no longer kicked back at me, and no longer tore +at my fingers with his, I dropped him over the +side. I saw a fiery streak in the water where I +dropped him. That shark was not so squeamish +as the one I had—embraced. It may have +been the other was embarrassed at my ways, +Joel. D’ye think that might have been the +way of it?” +</p> +<p>Joel’s knuckles were white, where his hand +rested on his knee. Mark saw, and laughed +softly. “There’s blood in you, after all, boy,” +he applauded. “I’ve hopes for you.” +</p> +<p>Joel said slowly: “What then? What +then, Mark?” +</p> +<p>Mark laughed. “Well, that was a very +funny thing,” he said. “You see, the other two +men, they were busy, astern, with their own concerns. +And when I had comforted the little +brown girl, and sat down on the deck to laugh +at the folly of it all, she slipped away from me, +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_99' name='page_99'></a>99</span> +and went aft, and got all their rifles. She +brought them to me. She seemed to expect +things of me. So I, still laughing, for the fever +was on me; I took the rifles and threw them, +all but one, over the side. And I went down +into the cabin, with the little brown girl, and +went to bed; and she sat beside me, with the +rifle, and a lamp hanging above the door.... +</p> +<p>“And that was all that happened, until I +woke one morning and saw her there, and wondered +where I was. And my head was clear +again. She made me understand that the men +had sought to come at me, but had feared the +rifle in her hands.... +</p> +<p>“And we were in the open sea, as I could feel +by the labor of the schooner underfoot. So I +took the rifle in the crook of my arm, and with +the little brown girl at my heel, I went up on +deck. And we made a treaty.” +</p> +<p>He fell silent for a moment, and Joel +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_100' name='page_100'></a>100</span> +watched him, and waited. And at last, Mark +went on. +</p> +<p>“I had been more than a month on the island,” +he said. “The <i>Nathan Ross</i> had gone. +This schooner was a pearler, and they had the +location of a bed of shell. They had been +waiting till another schooner should leave the +place, to leave their own way clear. And when +that time came, they went ashore to get the +brown women for companions on that cruise. +And they made the mistake of picking up my +little brown girl, when she ran out of the hut. +And so brought me down upon them. +</p> +<p>“There were two of them left; two whites, +and three black men forward, who were of no +account. And the other two women. These +other two were chattering together, on the deck +astern, when I appeared. They seemed content +enough.... +</p> +<p>“The men were not happy. There was a +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_101' name='page_101'></a>101</span> +large man with slanting eyes. There was Oriental +blood in him. You could see that. He +called himself Quint. But his eyes were Jap, +or Chinese; and he had their calm, blank screen +across his countenance, to hide what may have +been his thoughts. Quint, he called himself. +And he was a big man, and very much of a man +in his own way, Joel. +</p> +<p>“The other was little, and he walked with a +slink and a grin. His name was Fetcher. And +he was oily in his speech. +</p> +<p>“When they saw me, they studied me for a +considerable time without speech. And I stood +there, with the rifle in my arm, and laughed at +them. And at last, Quint said calmly: +</p> +<p>“‘You took Farrell.’ +</p> +<p>“‘The fat man?’ I asked him. He nodded. +‘Yes,’ I said. ‘He took my girl, and so I +dropped him into the water, and a friend met +him there and hurried him away.’ +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_102' name='page_102'></a>102</span></p> +<p>“‘Your girl?’ he echoed, in a nasty way. +‘You’re that, then?’ +</p> +<p>“‘Am I?’ I asked, and shifted the rifle a +thought to the fore. And his eyes held mine +for a space, and then he shook his head. +</p> +<p>“‘I see that I was mistaken,’ he said. +</p> +<p>“‘Your sight is good,’ I told him. ‘Now—what +is this? Tell me.’ +</p> +<p>“He told me, evenly and without malice. +They had a line on the pearls; there were +enough for three. I was welcome. And at the +end, I nodded my consent. The <i>Nathan Ross</i> +was gone. Furthermore, there were nine pagans +in me now; and the prospect of looting +some still lagoon, in company with these two +rats, had a wild flavor about it that caught me. +My blood was burning; and the sun was hot. +Also, they had liquor aboard her. Liquor, and +loot, and the three women. Pagan, Joel. Pagan! +But wild and red and raw. There’s a +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_103' name='page_103'></a>103</span> +glory about such things.... Songs are made +of them.... There was no handshaking; but +we made alliance, and crowded on sail, and +went on our way.” +</p> +<p>He stopped short, laughed, filled his pipe +again, watched Joel. “You’re shocked with +me, boy. I can see it,” he taunted mockingly. +Joel shook his head. “Will you hear the rest?” +Mark asked; and Joel nodded. Mark lighted +his pipe, laughed.... His fingers thrummed +on the desk beside him. +</p> +<p>“We were a week on the way,” he said. +“And all pagan, every minute of the week. +Days when we fought a storm—as bad as I’ve +ever seen, Joel. We fought it, holding to the +ropes with our teeth, bare to the waist, with the +wind scourging us. It tore at us, and lashed at +us.... And we drove the three black men +with knives to their work. And the three +women stayed below, except my little brown +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_104' name='page_104'></a>104</span> +girl. She came up, now and then, with dry +clothes for me.... And I had to drive her to +shelter.... +</p> +<p>“And when there was not the storm, there +was liquor; and they had cards. We staked +our shares in the catch that was to come.... +Hour on hour, dealing, and playing with few +words; and our eyes burned hollow in their sockets, +and Quint’s thin mouth twisted and writhed +all the time like a worm on a pin. He was a +nervous man, for all his calm. A very nervous +man.... +</p> +<p>“The fifth day, one of the blacks stumbled +in Quint’s path, on deck. Quint had been losing, +at the cards. He slid a knife from his +sleeve into the man’s ribs, and tipped the black +over the rail without a word. I was twenty +feet away, and it was done before I could catch +breath. I shouted; and Quint turned and +looked at me, and he smiled. +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_105' name='page_105'></a>105</span></p> +<p>“‘What is it?’ he asked. ‘Have you objections +to present?’ And the smeared blade in +his hand, and the bubbles still rising, overside. +I was afraid of the man, Joel. I tell you I was +afraid. The only time. Fear’s a pagan joy, +boy. It was like a new drink to me. I nursed +it, eating it. And I shook my head, humble. +</p> +<p>“‘No objections,’ I said, to Quint. ‘’Tis +your affair.’ +</p> +<p>“‘That was my thought,’ he agreed, and +passed me, and went astern. I stood aside to +let him pass, and trembled, and laughed for the +joy of my fear. +</p> +<p>“And then we came to the lagoon, and the +blacks began to dive. Only the two we had; +and there was no sign of Islanders, ashore. +But the water was shallow, and we worked the +men with knives, and they got pearls. Sometimes +one or two in a day; sometimes a dozen. +Do you know pearls, Joel? They’re sweet as a +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_106' name='page_106'></a>106</span> +woman’s skin. I had never seen them, before. +And we all went a little mad over them.... +</p> +<p>“They made Fetcher hysterical. He laughed +too much. They made Quint morose. They +made me tremble....” +</p> +<p>He wiped his hand across his eyes, as though +the memory wearied him; and he moved his +great shoulders, and looked at Joel, and +laughed. “But it could not last, in that fashion,” +he said. “It might have been anything. +It turned out to be the women. I said they +seemed content. They did. But that may be +the way of the blacks. They have a happy +habit of life; they laugh easily.... +</p> +<p>“At any rate, we found one morning that +Quint’s girl was gone. She was not on the +schooner; and ashore, we found her tracks in +the sand. She had gone into the trees. And +we beat the island, and we did not find her. +And Quint sweated. All that day. +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_107' name='page_107'></a>107</span></p> +<p>“That night, he looked at my little brown +girl, and touched her shoulder. I was across +the deck, the girl coming to me with food. I +said to him: ‘No. She’s mine, Quint.’ And +he looked at me, and I beat him with my eyes. +And as his turned from mine, Fetcher and his +woman came on deck, and Quint tapped +Fetcher, and said to him: ‘What will you take +for her?’ +</p> +<p>“Fetcher laughed at him; and Quint scowled. +And I—for I was minded to see sport, came +across to them and said: ‘Play for her. +Play for her!’ +</p> +<p>“Fetcher was willing; because he had the +blood that gambles anything. Quint was willing, +because he was the better player. They +sat down to the game, in the cabin, after supper. +Poker. Cold hands. Nine of them. +Winner of five to win.... +</p> +<p>“Fetcher got two, lost four, got two more. I +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_108' name='page_108'></a>108</span> +was dealing. Card by card, face upward. I +remember those hands. And my little brown +girl, and the other, watching from the corner. +</p> +<p>“The hands on the table grew, card by card. +Fetcher got an ace, Quint a deuce. Fetcher a +queen, Quint a seven. Fetcher a jack, Quint a +six. Fetcher a ten, Quint a ten. Only the +last card to come to each. If Fetcher paired +any card, he would win. His card came first. +It was a seven. He was ace, queen high. +Quint had deuce, six, seven, ten. He had to +get a pair to win.... +</p> +<p>“I saw Quint’s hand stir, beneath the table; +and I glimpsed a knife in it. But before I +could speak, or stir, Fetcher dropped his own +hand to his trouser leg, and I knew he kept a +blade there.... So I laughed, and dealt +Quint’s last card.... +</p> +<p>“A deuce. He had a pair, enough to +win.... +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_109' name='page_109'></a>109</span></p> +<p>“He leaned back, laughing grimly; and +Fetcher’s knife went in beneath the left side of +his jaw, where the jugular lies. Quint looked +surprised, and got up out of his chair and lay +down quietly across the table. I heard the +bubbling of his last breath.... Then Fetcher +laughed, and called his woman, and they took +Quint on deck and tipped him overside. The +knife had been well thrown. Fetcher had +barely moved his wrist.... I was much impressed +with the little man, and told my brown +girl so. But she was frightened, and I comforted +her.” +</p> +<p>He was silent again for a time, pressing the +hot ashes in his pipe with his thumb. The +water slapped the broad stern of the ship beneath +them, and Joel’s pipe was gurgling. +There was no other sound. Little Priss, nails +biting her palms, thought she would stream if +the silence held an instant more.... +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_110' name='page_110'></a>110</span></p> +<p>But Mark laughed softly, and went on. +</p> +<p>“Fetcher and I worked smoothly together,” +he said. “The little man was very pleasant +and affable; and I met him half way. The +blacks brought up the shells, and we idled +through the days, and played cards at night. +We divided the take, each day; so our stakes +ran fairly high. But luck has a way of balancing. +On the day when we saw the end in sight, +we were fairly even.... +</p> +<p>“Fetcher, and the blacks and I went ashore to +get fruit from the trees there. Plenty of it +everywhere; and we were running short. We +went into the brush together, very pleasantly; +and he fell a little behind. I looked back, and +his knife brushed my neck and quivered in a +tree a yard beyond me. So I went back and +took him in my hands. He had another knife—the +little man fairly bristled with them. But +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_111' name='page_111'></a>111</span> +it struck a rib, and before he could use it again, +his neck snapped. +</p> +<p>“So that I was alone on the schooner, with +the two blacks, and Fetcher’s woman, and the +little brown girl. +</p> +<p>“Fetcher’s woman went ashore to find him +and never came back. And I decided it was +time for me to go away from that place. The +pagans were dying in me. I did not like that +quiet little island any more. +</p> +<p>“But the next morning, when I looked out +beyond the lagoon, another schooner was coming +in. So I was uncomfortable with Fetcher’s +pearls, as well as mine, in my pocket. There +are some hard men in these seas, Joel; and I +knew none of them would treasure me above my +pearls. So I planned a story of misfortune, and +I went ashore to hide my pearls under a rock. +</p> +<p>“The blacks had brought me ashore. I went +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_112' name='page_112'></a>112</span> +out of their sight to do what I had to do; and +when I came back, after hiding the pearls, I saw +them rowing very swiftly toward the schooner. +And they looked back at me in a fearful way. +I wondered why; and then four black men came +down on me from behind, with knives and clubs. +</p> +<p>“I had a very hard day, that day. They +hunted me back and forth through the island—I +had not even a knife with me—and I met them +here and there, and suffered certain contusions +and bruises and minor cuts. Also, I grew very +tired of killing them. They were wiry, but +they were small, and died easily. So I was +glad, when from a point where they had cornered +me I saw the little brown girl rowing the +big boat toward me. +</p> +<p>“She was alone. The blacks were afraid to +come, I thought. But I found afterward that +this was not true. They could not come; for +they had tried to seize the schooner and go +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_113' name='page_113'></a>113</span> +quickly away from that place, and the little +brown girl had drilled them both. She had a +knack with the rifle.... +</p> +<p>“I waded to meet the boat, and she tossed +me the gun. I held them off for a little, while +we drew away from the shore. But when we +were thirty or forty yards off, I heard rifles from +the other schooner, firing past us at the blacks +in the bush; and the girl stopped rowing. So +I turned around and saw that one of the balls +from the other schooner had struck her in the +back. So I sat there, in the sun, drifting with +the wind, and held her in my arms till she +coughed and died. +</p> +<p>“Then I went out to the other schooner and +told them they were bad marksmen. They had +only been passing by, for copra; and the story +I told them was a shocking one. They were +much impressed, and they seemed glad to get +away. But the blacks were still on shore, so +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_114' name='page_114'></a>114</span> +that I could not go back for the pearls; and I +worked the schooner out by myself, and shaped +a course.... +</p> +<p>“I came to Tubuai, alone thus, a day before +you, Joel.” +</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_115' name='page_115'></a>115</span> +<h2>IX</h2> +</div> + +<p>For a long time after Mark’s story ended, +the two brothers sat still in the cabin, +puffing at their pipes, thinking.... Mark +watched Joel, waiting for the younger man to +speak. And Joel’s thoughts ranged back, and +picked up the tale in the beginning, and followed +it through once more.... +</p> +<p>They were silent for so long that little Priss, +in the cabin, drifted from waking dreams to +dreams in truth. The pictures Mark’s words +had conjured up merged with troubled phantasies, +and she twisted and cried out softly in her +sleep so that Joel went in at last to be sure she +was not sick. But while he stood beside her, +she passed into quiet and untroubled slumber, +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_116' name='page_116'></a>116</span> +and he came back and sat down with Mark +again. +</p> +<p>“You brought the schooner into Tubuai?” he +asked. +</p> +<p>“Aye. Alone. Half a thousand miles. +There’s a task, Joel.” +</p> +<p>“And left it there?” +</p> +<p>“Yes.” +</p> +<p>“Why?” +</p> +<p>Mark smiled grimly. “It was known there,” +he said quietly. “Also, the three whom I had +found aboard it were known. And they had +friends in Tubuai, who wondered what had +come to them. I was beginning to—find their +questions troublesome—when the <i>Nathan Ross</i> +came in.” +</p> +<p>“They will ask more questions now,” said +Joel. +</p> +<p>“They must ask them of the schooner; and—she +does not speak,” Mark told him. +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_117' name='page_117'></a>117</span></p> +<p>Joel was troubled and uncertain. “It’s—a +black thing,” he said. +</p> +<p>“They’ll not be after me, if that distresses +you,” Mark promised him. “Curiosity does +not go to such lengths in these waters.” +</p> +<p>“You told no one?” +</p> +<p>Mark laughed. “The pearls were—my own +concern. You’re the first I’ve told.” He +watched his brother. Joel frowned thoughtfully, +shook his head. +</p> +<p>“You plan to go back for them?” he asked. +</p> +<p>“You and I,” said Mark casually. Joel +looked at him in quick surprise; and Mark +laughed. “Yes,” he repeated. “You and I. +I am not selfish, Joel. Besides—there are +plenty for two.” +</p> +<p>Joel, for an instant, found no word; and +Mark leaned quickly toward him. He tapped +Joel’s knee. “We’ll work up that way,” he +said quietly. “When we come to the island, +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_118' name='page_118'></a>118</span> +you and I go ashore, and get them where +they’re hid beneath the rock; and we come back +aboard with no one any wiser.... Rich. A +double handful of them, Joel....” +</p> +<p>Joel’s eyes were clouded with thought; he +shook his head slowly. “What of the blacks?” +he asked. +</p> +<p>Mark laughed. “They were brought down +on us by the woman who got away,” he said. +“Quint’s woman. I heard as much that day, +saw her among them. But—they’re gone before +this.” +</p> +<p>Joel said slowly: “You are not sure of that. +And—I cannot risk the ship....” +</p> +<p>Mark asked sneeringly: “Are you afraid?” +</p> +<p>The younger man flushed; but he said steadily: +“Yes. Afraid of losing Asa Worthen’s +ship for him.” +</p> +<p>Mark chuckled unpleasantly. “I’m minded +of what is written, here and there, in the ‘Log +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_119' name='page_119'></a>119</span> +of the House of Shore,’” he said, half to himself. +And he quoted: “‘All the brothers were +valiant....’ There’s more to that, Joel. +‘And all the sisters virtuous.’ I had not known +we had sisters—but it seems you’re one, boy. +Not valiant, by your own admission; but at +least you’re fairly virtuous.” +</p> +<p>Joel paid no heed to the taunt. “Asa +Worthen likes care taken of his ship,” he said, +half to himself. “I’m thinking he would not +think well of this.... He’s not a man to +gamble....” +</p> +<p>“Gamble?” Mark echoed scornfully. “He +has no gamble in this. The pearls are for you +and me. He will know nothing whatever +about them. A handful for me, and a handful +for you, Joel. For the taking....” +</p> +<p>“You did not think to give him owner’s +lay?” Joel asked. +</p> +<p>“No.” +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_120' name='page_120'></a>120</span></p> +<p>“Where is this island?” +</p> +<p>Mark laughed. “I’ll not be too precise—until +I have your word, Joel. But—’tis to the +northward.” +</p> +<p>“Our course is west, then south.” +</p> +<p>“Since when has the <i>Nathan Ross</i> kept schedule +and time table like a mail ship?” +</p> +<p>Joel shook his head. “I cannot do it, Mark.” +</p> +<p>“Why not?” +</p> +<p>“A risk I have no right to take; and wasted +weeks, out of our course. For which Asa +Worthen pays.” +</p> +<p>Mark smiled sardonically. “You’re vastly +more virtuous than any sister could be, Joel, +my dear.” +</p> +<p>Joel said steadily: “There may be two +minds about that. There may be two minds as +to—the duty of a captain to his ship and his +owner. But—I’ve shown you my mind in the +matter.” +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_121' name='page_121'></a>121</span></p> +<p>Mark leaned toward him, eyes half-friendly. +“You’re wrong, Joel. I’ll convince you.” +</p> +<p>“You’ll not.” +</p> +<p>“A handful of them,” Mark whispered. +“Worth anything up to a hundred thousand. +Maybe more. I do not know the little things +as well as some. All for a little jog out of your +way....” +</p> +<p>Joel shook his head. And Mark, in a sudden +surge of anger, stormed to his feet with +clenched hand upraised. “By the Lord, Joel, +I’d not have believed it. You’re mad; plain +mad—sister, dear! You....” +</p> +<p>Joel said quietly: “Your schooner is at +Tubuai. I’ll set you back there, if you will.” +</p> +<p>Mark mocked him. “Would you throw +your own brother off the ship he captained?... +Oh hard, hard heart....” +</p> +<p>“You may stay, or go,” Joel told him. +“Have your way.” +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_122' name='page_122'></a>122</span></p> +<p>Mark’s eyes for an instant narrowed; they +turned toward the door of the cabin where Priss +lay.... And there was a flicker of black hatred +in them, but his voice was suave when he +replied: “With your permission, captain dear, +I’ll stay.” +</p> +<p>Joel nodded; he rose. “Young Morrell has +given you his bunk,” he said. “So—good +night, to you.” +</p> +<p>He opened the door into the main cabin; and +Mark, his fingers twitching, went out. He +turned, spoke over his shoulder. “Good night; +and—pleasant dreams,” he said. +</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_123' name='page_123'></a>123</span> +<h2>X</h2> +</div> + +<p>Even Joel Shore saw the new light in +Priscilla’s eyes when she met Mark at +breakfast in the cabin next morning; and it is +said husbands are the last to see such things. +</p> +<p>That story she had heard the night before, +the story Mark told Joel in the after cabin, had +made of him something superhuman in her eyes. +He was a gigantic, an epic figure; he had lived +red life, and fought for his life, and killed.... +There was Puritan blood in Priscilla; but overrunning +it was a flood of warmer life, a cross-strain +from some southern forebear, which sang +now in answer to the touch of Mark’s words. +She watched him, that morning, with wide eyes +that were full of wonder and of awe. +</p> +<p>Mark saw, and was immensely amused. He +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_124' name='page_124'></a>124</span> +asked her: “Why do you look at me like that, +little sister? I’m not going to bite....” +</p> +<p>Priscilla caught herself, and smiled, and +laughed at him. “How do I look at you? +You’re—imagining things, Mark.” +</p> +<p>“Am I?” he asked. And he touched Joel’s +arm. “Look at her, Joel, and see which of us +is right.” +</p> +<p>Joel was eating his breakfast silently, but he +had seen Priscilla’s eyes. He looked toward +her now, and she flushed in spite of herself, +and got up quickly, and slipped away.... +They watched her go, Joel’s eyes clouded +thoughtfully, Mark’s shining. And when she +was gone, Mark leaned across and said to Joel +softly, a devil of mischief in his eyes: “She +heard my tale last night, Joel. She was not +asleep. Fooled you....” +</p> +<p>Joel shook his head. “No. She was +asleep.” +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_125' name='page_125'></a>125</span></p> +<p>Mark laughed. “Don’t you suppose I know. +I’ve seen that look in woman’s eyes before. In +the eyes of the little brown girl, the night I +dropped the fat man overside....” +</p> +<p>He sat there, chuckling, when Joel got abruptly +to his feet and went on deck; and when +he came up the companion a little later, he was +still chuckling under his breath. +</p> +<p>After that first morning, Priss was able to +cloak her eyes and hide her thoughts; and on +the surface, life aboard the <i>Nathan Ross</i> seemed +to go on as before. Mark threw himself into +the routine of the work, mixing with the men, +going off in the boats when there was a whale to +be struck, doing three men’s share of toil. Joel +one day remonstrated with him. “It is not +wise,” he said. “You were captain here; you +are my brother. It is not wise for you to mix, +as an equal, with the men.” +</p> +<p>Mark only laughed at him. “Your dignity +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_126' name='page_126'></a>126</span> +is very precious to you, Joel,” he mocked. +“But as for me—I am not proud. You’d not +have me sit aft and twiddle my thumbs and +hold yarn for little Priss.... And I must be +doing something....” +</p> +<p>He and Jim Finch were much together. +Finch always gave Joel careful obedience, always +handled the ship when he was in charge +with smooth efficiency. His boat was the best +manned and the most successful of the four. +But he and Joel were not comradely. Joel instinctively +disliked the big man; and Finch’s +servility disgusted him. The mate was full of +smooth and flattering words, but his eyes were +shallow. +</p> +<p>Mark talked with him long, one morning; +and then he left Finch and came to Joel, by the +after house, chuckling as though at some enormous +jest. “Will ye look at Finch, there?” +he begged. +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_127' name='page_127'></a>127</span></p> +<p>Joel had been watching the two. He saw +Finch now, standing just forward of the boat +house with flushed cheeks and eyes fixed and +hands twitching. The big man was powerfully +moved by something.... “What is it that’s +got him?” Joel asked. +</p> +<p>“I’ve told him about the pearls,” Mark +chuckled. “He’s wild to be after them....” +</p> +<p>Joel turned on his brother hotly. “You’re +mad, Mark,” he snapped. “That is no word to +be loose in the ship.” +</p> +<p>“I’ve but told Finch,” Mark protested. +“It’s mirthful to watch the man wiggle.” +</p> +<p>“He’ll tell the ship. His tongue wags unceasingly.” +</p> +<p>Mark lifted his shoulders. “Tell him to be +silent. You should keep order on your ship, +Joel.” +</p> +<p>Joel beckoned, and Finch came toward them. +As he came, he fought for self control; and +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_128' name='page_128'></a>128</span> +when he stood before them, his lips were twisting +into something like a smile, and his eyes +were shifty and gleaming. Joel said quietly: +</p> +<p>“Mr. Finch, my brother says he has told you +his story.” +</p> +<p>“Yes, sir,” said Finch. “An extraordinary +adventure, Captain Shore.” +</p> +<p>“I think it best the men should know nothing +about it,” Joel told him. “You will please +keep it to yourself.” +</p> +<p>Finch grinned. “Of course, sir. There’s no +need they should have any share in them.” +</p> +<p>Joel flushed angrily. “We are not going +after them. I consider it dangerous, and unwise.” +</p> +<p>Over Finch’s fat cheeks swept a twitching +grimace of dismay. “But I thought....” +He looked at Mark, and Mark was chuckling. +“It’s so easy, sir,” he protested. “Just go, and +get them.... Rich....” +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_129' name='page_129'></a>129</span></p> +<p>Joel shook his head. “Keep silent about the +matter, Finch.” +</p> +<p>Finch slowly bowed his head, and he smirked +respectfully. “Very well, Captain Shore,” he +agreed. “You always know best, sir.” +</p> +<p>He turned away; and after a little Mark said +softly: “You have him well trained, Joel. +Like a little dog.... I wonder that you can +handle men so....” +</p> +<p>Two days later, Joel knew that either Finch +or Mark had told the tale anew. Young Dick +Morrell came to him with shining eyes. “Is it +true, sir, that we’re going after the pearls your +brother hid?” he asked. “I just heard....” +</p> +<p>Joel gripped the boy’s arm. “Who told +you?” +</p> +<p>Morrell twisted free, half angry. “I—overheard +it, sir. Is it true?” +</p> +<p>“No,” said Joel. “We’re a whaler, and we +stick to our trade.” +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_130' name='page_130'></a>130</span></p> +<p>Dick lifted both hands, in a gesture almost +pleading. “But it would be so simple, +sir....” +</p> +<p>“Keep the whole matter quiet, Morrell,” Joel +told him. “I do not wish the men to know of +it. And if you hear any further talk, report it +to me.” +</p> +<p>Morrell’s eyes were sulky. He said slowly: +“Yes, sir.” The set of his shoulders, as he +stalked forward, seemed to Joel defiant.... +</p> +<p>Within the week, the whole ship knew the +story. Old Aaron Burnham, repairing a bunk +in the fo’c’s’le, heard the men whispering the +thing among themselves. “Tongues hissing +like little serpents, sir,” he told Joel, in the +cabin that night. “All of pearls, and women, +and the like.... And a shine in their +eyes....” +</p> +<p>“Thanks, Aaron,” Joel said. “I’m sorry the +men know....” +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_131' name='page_131'></a>131</span></p> +<p>“Aye, they know. Be sure of that,” Aaron +repeated, with bobbing head. “And they’re +roused by what they know. Some say you’re +going after the pearls, and aim to fraud them of +their lay. And some say you’re a mad fool that +will not go....” +</p> +<p>Joel’s fist, on the table, softly clenched. +“What else?” he asked. +</p> +<p>Aaron watched him sidewise. “There was a +whisper that you might be made to go....” +</p> +<p>Priscilla saw, that night, that Joel was troubled. +She and Mark were together on the cushioned +seat in the after cabin, and Joel sat at his +desk, over the log. Mark was telling Priss an +expurgated version of some one of his adventures; +and Joel, looking once or twice that way, +saw the quick-caught breath in her throat, +saw her tremulous interest.... And his eyes +clouded, so that when Priscilla chanced to look +toward him, she saw, and cried: +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_132' name='page_132'></a>132</span></p> +<p>“Joel! What’s the matter? You look +so....” +</p> +<p>He looked from one of them to the other for +a space; and then his eyes rested on Mark’s, and +he said slowly: “It’s in my mind that I’d have +done best to set you ashore at Tubuai, Mark.” +</p> +<p>Mark laughed; but Priss cried hotly: +“Joel! What a perfectly horrible thing to +say!” Her voice had grown deeper and more +resonant of late, Joel thought. It was no +longer the voice of a girl, but of a woman.... +Mark touched her arm. +</p> +<p>“Don’t care about him,” he told her. +“That’s only brotherly love....” +</p> +<p>“He oughtn’t to say it.” +</p> +<p>Joel said quietly: “This is a matter you do +not understand, Priscilla. You would do well +to keep silent. It is my affair.” +</p> +<p>A month before, this would have swept Priss +into a fury of anger; but this night, though her +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_133' name='page_133'></a>133</span> +eyes burned with slow resentment, she bit her +lips and was still. A month ago, she would +have forgotten over night. Now she would remember.... +</p> +<p>Mark got up, laughed. “He’s bad company, +Priss,” he told her. “Come on deck with me.” +</p> +<p>She rose, readily enough; and they went out +through the main cabin, and up the companionway. +Joel watched them go. They left open +the door into the cabin, and he heard Varde and +Finch, at the table there, talking in husky whispers.... It +was so, he knew, over the whole +ship. Everywhere, the men were whispering.... There +hung over the <i>Nathan Ross</i> a cloud +as definite as a man’s hand; and every man +scowled—save Mark Shore. Mark smiled +with malicious delight at the gathering storm he +had provoked.... +</p> +<p>Joel, left in the after cabin, felt terribly +lonely. He wanted Priss with him, laughing, +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_134' name='page_134'></a>134</span> +at his side. His longing for her was like a hot +coal in his throat, burning there. And she had +taken sides with Mark, against him.... His +shoulders shook with the sudden surge of his +desire to grip Mark’s lean throat.... Ashore, +he would have done so. But as things were, +the ship was his first charge; and a break with +Mark would precipitate the thing that menaced +the ship.... He could not fight Mark without +risking the <i>Nathan Ross</i>; and he could not +risk the <i>Nathan Ross</i>. Not even.... His +head dropped for an instant in his arms, and +then he got up quickly, and shook himself, and +set his lips.... No man aboard must see the +trouble in his heart.... +</p> +<p>He went through the main cabin, and +climbed to the deck. There was some sea running, +and a wind that brushed aside all smaller +sounds, so that he made little noise. Thus, +when he reached the top of the companion, he +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_135' name='page_135'></a>135</span> +saw two dark figures in the shadows of the boat +house, closely clasped.... +</p> +<p>He stood for an instant, white hot.... His +wife, and Mark.... His little Priss, and his +brother.... +</p> +<p>Then he went quietly below, and glanced +at the chart, and chose a course upon it. +The nearest land; he and Mark ashore together.... +His blood ran hungrily at the +thought.... +</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_136' name='page_136'></a>136</span> +<h2>XI</h2> +</div> + +<p>Priscilla went on deck that night so +angry with Joel that she could have +killed him; and Mark played upon her as a +skilled hand plays upon the harp. It was such +a night as the South Seas know, warm and languorous, +the wind caressing, and the salt spray +stinging gently on the cheek. The moon was +near the full, and it laid a path of silver on the +water. This path was like the road to fairyland; +and Mark told Priscilla so. He dropped +into a gay little phantasy that he conceived on +the moment, a story of fairies, and of dancing +in the moonlight, and of a man and a woman, +hand in hand.... +</p> +<p>She felt the spell he laid upon her, and struggled +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_137' name='page_137'></a>137</span> +against it. “Tell me about the last fight, +when the little brown girl was killed,” she +begged. +</p> +<p>He had told her snatches of his story here +and there; but he had not, till that night, spoken +of the pearls. When Priss heard of them, she +swung about and lifted up her face to his, listening +like a child. And Mark told the story with +a tongue of gold, so that she saw it all; the lagoon, +blue in the sun; and the schooner creeping +in from the sea; and the hours of flight through +the semi-jungle of the island, with the blacks in +such hot pursuit. He told her of the times +when they surrounded him, when he fought +himself free.... How he got a great stone +and gripped it in his hand, and how with this +stone he crushed the skull of a young black with +but one eye. Priss shuddered with delicious +horror at the tale.... +</p> +<p>She loved best to hear of the little brown girl +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_138' name='page_138'></a>138</span> +whom Mark had loved; and that would have +told either of them, if they had stopped to consider, +that she did not love Mark. Else she +would have hated the other, brown or white.... +And he told how the brown girl saved +him, and gave her life in the saving, and how +he had stopped at a little atoll on his homeward +way and buried her.... She had died in his +arms, smiling because she lay there.... +</p> +<p>“And the pearls?” Priss asked, when she had +heard the story through. “You left them +there?” +</p> +<p>“There they are still,” he told her. “Safely +hid away.” +</p> +<p>“How many?” she asked. “Are they +lovely?” +</p> +<p>“Three big ones, and thirty-two of a fair +size, and enough little ones and seeds to make a +double handful.” +</p> +<p>“But why did you leave them there?” +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_139' name='page_139'></a>139</span></p> +<p>“The black men were on the island. They +were there, and watchful, and very angry.” +</p> +<p>“Couldn’t you have kept them in your +pocket?” +</p> +<p>He laughed. “That other schooner made me +cautious. Man’s life is cheap, in such matters. +And if they guessed I had such things upon me.... +If I slept too soundly, or the like.... +D’ye see?” +</p> +<p>She nodded her dark head. “I see. But +you’ll go back....” +</p> +<p>He chuckled at that, and tapped on the rail +with one knuckle, in a thoughtful way. “I had +thought that Joel and I would go, in the +<i>Nathan Ross</i>, and fetch the things away,” he +said. +</p> +<p>“Of course,” she exclaimed. “That would +be so easy.... I’d love to see the—pearls....” +</p> +<p>“Easy? That was my own thought,” he +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_140' name='page_140'></a>140</span> +agreed. Something in his tone prompted her +question. +</p> +<p>“Why—isn’t it?” +</p> +<p>“Joel objects,” he said drily. +</p> +<p>“He—won’t. But why? I don’t understand. +Why?” +</p> +<p>Mark laughed. “He speaks of a matter of +duty, not to risk the ship.” +</p> +<p>“Is there a risk?” +</p> +<p>“No.” He chuckled maliciously. “As a +matter of cold fact, Priss, I’m fearful that Joel +is a bit—timid in such affairs.” +</p> +<p>She flamed at him: “Afraid?” +</p> +<p>He nodded. +</p> +<p>“I don’t believe it.” +</p> +<p>His eyes shone. “What a loyal little bride? +But—I taxed him with it. And—that was the +word he used....” +</p> +<p>She was so angry that she beat upon Mark’s +great breast with her tiny fists. “It’s not true! +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_141' name='page_141'></a>141</span> +It’s not true!” she cried. “You know....” +</p> +<p>Abruptly, Mark took fire. She was swept in +his arms, clipped there, half-lifted from the +deck to meet his lips that dipped to hers. She +was like nothing in his grasp; she could not +stir.... And from his lips, and circling arms, +and great body the hot fire of the man flung +through her.... She fought him.... But +even in that terrific moment she knew that Joel +had never swept or whelmed her so.... +</p> +<p>She twisted her face away.... And thus, +from the shadow where they stood, she saw Joel. +He was at the top of the cabin companion, looking +toward them, his face illumined by the light +from below. And she watched for an instant, +frozen with terror, expecting him to leap toward +them and plunge at Mark and buffet him.... +</p> +<p>Joel stood for an instant, unstirring. Then +he turned, very quietly, and went down stairs +again into the cabin.... +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_142' name='page_142'></a>142</span></p> +<p>She thought, sickly, that he had shirked; he +had seen, and held his hand.... +</p> +<p>What was it Mark had said? Afraid.... +</p> +<p>Mark had not seen Joel. He kissed her +again. Then she twisted away from him, and +fled below. +</p> +<p>Joel was at his desk. He did not look up at +her coming; and she stood for an instant, behind +him, watching his bent head.... +</p> +<p>Then she slipped into her own cabin, and +snapped the latch, and plunged her face in her +pillow to stifle bursting sobs. +</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_143' name='page_143'></a>143</span> +<h2>XII</h2> +</div> + +<p>The <i>Nathan Ross</i> changed course that +day; and the word went around the ship. +It passed from man to man. There was whispering; +and there were dark looks, flung toward +Joel. +</p> +<p>Joel kept the deck all day, silent, and watchful, +and waiting. Mark spoke to him once or +twice, asking what he meant to do. Joel told +him nothing. He had fought out his fight the +night before; he knew himself.... +</p> +<p>Mark and Finch talked together, during the +morning. Joel watched them without comment. +Later he saw Mark speak to the other +mates, one by one. At dinner in the cabin, the +mates were silent. Their eyes had something +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_144' name='page_144'></a>144</span> +of shame in them, and something of venomous +hate.... They already hated Joel, whom +they planned to wrong.... +</p> +<p>The day was fair, and the wind drove them +smoothly. There was no work to be done, +never a spout on the sea. Joel, watching once +or twice the whispering groups of idle men, +wished a whale might be sighted; and once he +sent Morrell and Varde to find tasks for the +men to do, and kept them at it through the long +afternoon, scraping, scrubbing, painting.... +</p> +<p>Priss kept to her cabin. When she did not +appear at breakfast, Joel went to her door and +knocked. She called to him: “I’ve a headache. +I’m going to rest.” He ordered that +food be sent to her.... +</p> +<p>He stayed on deck till late, that night; but +with the coming of night the ship had grown +quiet, and most of the men were below in the +fo’c’s’le. So at last Joel left the deck to Varde, +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_145' name='page_145'></a>145</span> +and went below. He sat down at his desk and +wrote up the day’s log.... +</p> +<p>Priss came to him there. She had been in +bed; and she wore a heavy dressing gown over +her night garments. Her hair was braided, +hanging across her shoulders. She sat down +beside the desk, and when Joel could fight back +the misery in his eyes, he looked toward her +and asked: +</p> +<p>“Is your head—better?” +</p> +<p>She said very quietly: “Joel, I want to +ask you something.” +</p> +<p>He wanted her sympathy so terribly, and her +tone was so cool and so aloof that he winced; +but he said: “Very well?” +</p> +<p>“Mark says he asked you to take the <i>Nathan +Ross</i> to get—the pearls he left on that island. +Is that true?” +</p> +<p>“Yes,” said Joel. +</p> +<p>“He says you would not do it.” +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_146' name='page_146'></a>146</span></p> +<p>“I will not do it,” Joel told her. +</p> +<p>“He says,” said Priss quietly, “that you are +afraid. He says that was your own word ... +when he accused you. Is that true?” +</p> +<p>If there had been any sympathy or understanding +in her voice or in her eyes, he would +have told her ... told her that it was for his +ship and not for himself that he was afraid. +But there was not. She was so cold and hard.... +He would not seek to justify himself to +her.... +</p> +<p>“Yes,” he said quietly. “I used that word.” +</p> +<p>She turned her eyes quickly away from his, +that he might not see the pain in hers.... She +rose to go back to her cabin.... +</p> +<p>As she reached the door, some one knocked on +the door that led to the main cabin; and without +waiting for word from Joel, that door +opened. Mark stood there. He came in, with +Finch, and Varde, and old Hooper and young +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_147' name='page_147'></a>147</span> +Morrell on his heels.... Priss shrank back +into her cabin, closed the door to a crack, listened.... +</p> +<p>Joel got to his feet. “What is it?” he +asked. +</p> +<p>Mark bowed low, faced his brother with a +cold and triumphant smile. “These gentlemen +have asked me,” he explained, “to tell you that +we have decided to go fetch the pearls.” +</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_148' name='page_148'></a>148</span> +<h2>XIII</h2> +</div> + +<p>When Priss, through the crack in the +door, heard what Mark had said, she +shut the door of her cabin soundlessly, and +crouched against it, listening. She was trembling.... +</p> +<p>There was a long moment when no one of the +men in the after cabin spoke. Then big Jim +Finch said suavely: “That is to say, if Captain +Shore does not object.” +</p> +<p>Joel asked then: “What if I do object?” +</p> +<p>Mark laughed. “If you do object, why—we’ll +just go anyway. But you’ll have no +share.” +</p> +<p>And surly Varde added: “We’d as soon you +did object.” +</p> +<p>Mark bade him be quiet. “That’s not true, +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_149' name='page_149'></a>149</span> +Joel,” he said. “You know, I wanted you in +this, from the first. Your coming in will—prevent +complications. With you in, the whole +matter is very simple, and safe.... But without +you, we will be forced to take measures that +may be—reprehensible.” +</p> +<p>Joel did not speak; and Priss, trembling +against the door, thought bitterly: “He’s +afraid.... He said, himself, that he is +afraid....” +</p> +<p>Dick Morrell begged eagerly: “Please, Captain +Shore. There’s a fortune for all of us. +Mr. Worthen would tell you to do it....” +</p> +<p>Joel said then: “I told Mark Shore in the +beginning that I would not risk my ship. The +enterprise is not lawful. The pearls were +stolen in the beginning; murder hung around +them. Bad luck would follow them—and +there are blacks on the island to prevent our +finding them, in any case.” +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_150' name='page_150'></a>150</span></p> +<p>“There’s no harm in going to see,” Morrell +urged. +</p> +<p>“’Tis far out of our proper way. Wasted +time. And—the men should be thinking of oil, +not of pearls.” +</p> +<p>Mark laughed. “That may be,” he agreed. +“But the men’s thoughts are already on the +pearls. They’ve no mind for whaling, Joel. +They’ve no mind for it.” +</p> +<p>“I’m doubtful that what you say is true.” +</p> +<p>His brother snapped angrily: “Do you call +me liar?” +</p> +<p>“No,” said Joel gently. “You were never +one to lie, Mark.” And Priss, listening, +winced at the thing that was like apology in his +tone. She heard Mark laugh again, aloud; and +she heard the fat chuckle of Jim Finch. Then +Mark said: +</p> +<p>“It’s well you remember that. So.... +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_151' name='page_151'></a>151</span> +Will you go with us; or do we go without +you?” +</p> +<p>There was a long moment of silence before +Joel answered. At last he said: “You’re +making to spill blood on the <i>Nathan Ross</i>, +Mark. I’ve no mind for that. I’ll not have it—if +I can stop it. So ... I’ll consider this +matter, to-night, and give you your answer in +the morning.” +</p> +<p>“You’ll answer now,” Varde said sullenly. +“There’s too much words and words.... +You’ll answer now.” +</p> +<p>“I’ll answer in the morning,” Joel repeated, +as though he had not heard Varde. “In the +morning. And—for now—I’ll bid you good +night, gentlemen.” +</p> +<p>Mark chuckled. “There’s one matter, Joel. +You’ve two rifles and a pair of revolvers in +the lockfast by your cabin there. I’ll take +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_152' name='page_152'></a>152</span> +them—to avoid that blood-spilling you mention.” +</p> +<p>Priss held her breath, listening.... But +Joel said readily: “Yes. Here is the key, +Mark. And—I hold you responsible for the +weapons.” +</p> +<p>Her anger at Joel for his submission beat in +her ears; and she heard the jingle of the keys, +and the scrape and ring of the weapons as Mark +took them. He called to Joel as he did so: +“They’ll not leave my hands. Till the morning, +Joel, my boy....” +</p> +<p>The keys jingled again. Mark said: +“We’ll ask you to stay in the after cabin here +till morning. And—Varde will be in the main +cabin to see that you do it.” +</p> +<p>“I’ll stay here,” Joel promised. +</p> +<p>“Then—we’ll bid you good night!” +</p> +<p>Priss heard Joel echo the words, in even +tones. Then the door closed behind the men.... There +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_153' name='page_153'></a>153</span> +was no further sound in the after +cabin. +</p> +<p>She opened her door. Joel stood by his desk, +head drooping, one hand resting on the open +log before him. She went toward him, and +when he turned and saw her, she stopped, and +studied him, her eyes searching his. And at +last she said, so softly it was as though she spoke +to herself: +</p> +<p>“‘All the brothers were valiant,’ Joel. Are +you—just a coward?” +</p> +<p>He would not justify himself to her; he could +only remember the shadowed deck beneath the +boat house—Priscilla in his brother’s arms.... +He lifted his right hand a little, said +sternly: +</p> +<p>“Go back to your place.” +</p> +<p>She flung her eyes away from him, stood for +an instant, then went to her cabin with feet that +lagged and stumbled. +</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_154' name='page_154'></a>154</span> +<h2>XIV</h2> +</div> + +<p>Joel lay for an hour, planning what he +should do. He could not yield.... He +could not yield, even though he might wish to +do so; for the yielding would forfeit forever +all control over these men, or any others. He +could not yield.... +</p> +<p>Yet he did not wish to fight; for the battle +would be hopeless, with only death at the end +for him, and it would ruin the men and lose the +ship.... Blood marks a ship with a mark that +cannot be washed away. And Joel loved his +ship; and he loved his men with something +of the love of a father for children. Children +they were. He knew them. Simple, easily +led, easily swept by some adventurous +vision.... +</p> +<p>He slept, at last, dreamlessly; and in the +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_155' name='page_155'></a>155</span> +morning, when they came to him, he told them +what he wished to do. +</p> +<p>“Call the men aft,” he said. “I’ll speak to +them. We’ll see what their will is.” +</p> +<p>Mark mocked him. “Ask the men, is it?” +he exclaimed. “Let them vote, you’ll be saying. +Are you master of the ship, man; or just +first selectman, that you’d call a town meeting +on the high seas?” +</p> +<p>“I’ll talk with the men,” said Joel stubbornly. +</p> +<p>Varde strode forward angrily. “You’ll talk +with us,” he said. “Yes or no. Now. What +is it?” +</p> +<p>They were in the main cabin. Joel looked +at Varde steadily for an instant; then he said: +“I’m going on deck. You’ll come....” +</p> +<p>Priss, in the door of the after cabin, a frightened +and trembling little figure, called to him: +“Joel. Joel. Don’t....” +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_156' name='page_156'></a>156</span></p> +<p>He said, without turning: “Stay in your +cabin, Priscilla.” And then he passed between +Varde and Finch, at the foot of the companion, +and turned his back upon them and went steadily +up the steep, ladder-like stair. Varde made +a convulsive movement to seize his arm; but +Mark touched the man, held him with his eyes, +whispered something.... +</p> +<p>They had left old Hooper on deck. He and +Aaron Burnham were standing in the after +house when Joel saw them. Joel said to the +third mate: “Mr. Hooper, tell the men to lay +aft.” +</p> +<p>Mark had come up at Joel’s heels; and +Hooper looked past Joel to Mark for confirmation. +And Mark smiled mirthlessly, and approved. +“Yes, Mr. Hooper, call the men,” he +said. “We’re to hold a town meeting.” +</p> +<p>Old Hooper’s slow brain could not follow +such maneuvering; nevertheless, he bellowed a +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_157' name='page_157'></a>157</span> +command. And the harpooners from the steerage, +and the men from forecastle and fore deck +came stumbling and crowding aft. The men +stopped amidships; and Joel went toward them +a little ways, until he was under the boat house. +The mates stood about him, the harpooners a +little to one side; and Mark leaned on the rail +at the other side of the deck, watching, smiling.... +The revolvers were in his belt; the rifles +leaned against the after rail. He polished the +butt of one of the revolvers while he watched +and smiled.... +</p> +<p>Joel said, without preamble: “Men, the +mates tell me that you’ve heard of my brother’s +pearls.” +</p> +<p>The men looked at one another, and at the +mates. They were a jumbled lot, riff-raff of +all the seas, Cape Verders, Islanders, a Cockney +or two, a Frenchman, two or three Norsemen, +and a backbone of New England stock. They +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_158' name='page_158'></a>158</span> +looked at one another, and at the mates, with +stupid, questioning eyes; and one or two of them +nodded in a puzzled way, and the Cape Verders +grinned with embarrassment. A New Englander +drawled: +</p> +<p>“Aye, sir. We’ve heard th’ tale.” +</p> +<p>Joel nodded. “When my brother came +aboard at Tubuai,” he said quietly, “he proposed +that we go to this island.... I do not +know its position—” +</p> +<p>Mark drawled from across the deck: “You +know as much as any man aboard—myself excepted, +Joel. It’s my own secret, mind.” +</p> +<p>“He proposed that we go to this island,” Joel +pursued, “and that he and I go ashore and get +the pearls and say nothing about them.” +</p> +<p>Varde, at Joel’s side, swung his head and +looked bleakly at Mark Shore; and one or two +of the men murmured. Joel said quickly: +“Don’t misunderstand. I’m not blaming him +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_159' name='page_159'></a>159</span> +for that. You must not. The pearls are his. +He has a right to them.... +</p> +<p>“What I want you to know is that I refused +to go with him and get them on half shares. I +could have had half, and refused.... +</p> +<p>“Now he has spread the story among you. +And the mates say that I must go with you all, +and get the things.” +</p> +<p>He stopped, and the eyes of the men were on +him; and one or two nodded, and a voice here +and there exclaimed in approval. Joel waited +until they were quiet again; then he said: +“These—pearls—have cost life. At least five +men and a woman died in the getting of them. +If we had them aboard here, more of us would +die; for none would be content with his +share.... +</p> +<p>“It’s in my mind that they’d bring blood +aboard the <i>Nathan Ross</i>. And I have no wish +for that. But first— +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_160' name='page_160'></a>160</span></p> +<p>“How many of you are for going after +them?” +</p> +<p>There was a murmur of assent from many +throats; and Joel looked from man to man. +“Most of you, at least,” he said. “Is there any +man against going?” +</p> +<p>There may have been, but no man spoke; and +over Joel’s face passed a weary little shadow of +pain. For a long moment he stood in the sun, +studying them; and they saw his lips were +white. Then he said quietly: +</p> +<p>“You shall not go. The <i>Nathan Ross</i> goes +on about her proper matters. The pearls stay +where they are.” +</p> +<p>He shifted his weight, looked quickly toward +his brother.... He was poised for battle. +By the very force of his word, there was a +chance he might prevail. He watched the men, +in whose hands the answer lay. If he could +hold them.... +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_161' name='page_161'></a>161</span></p> +<p>Hands clamped his arms, and Mark smiled +across the deck. Finch and old Hooper on one +side, Varde and Morrell on the other. And +after the first wrench of his surprise, he knew it +was hopeless to struggle, and stood quietly. +Mark strolled across the deck, smiling coldly. +</p> +<p>“If you’ll not go, Joel, you must be taken,” +he said. And to the mates: “Bring back his +arms.” +</p> +<p>Joel felt the cord slipped through his elbows +and drawn tight and looped and made secure. +Old Aaron Burnham pushed forward and +tugged at them; and Joel heard him say: +“They’ll hold him fast, Captain Shore. Like +a trussed fowl, sir. That he is....” +</p> +<p>“Captain Shore?” That would be Mark, +come into command of the ship again. And +Aaron added: “I’ve set the bolt on his cabin +door, sir. Not five minutes gone.” +</p> +<p>Mark laughed. “Good enough, Aaron. +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_162' name='page_162'></a>162</span> +You and Varde take him down. Varde, you’ll +stay in the after cabin. If he tries to get free, +summon me. And—treat Mrs. Shore with the +utmost courtesy.” +</p> +<p>Varde was at Joel’s side; and Joel saw the +twist of his smile at Mark’s last word. For a +moment, thought of Priss left Joel sick. He +thrust the thought aside.... +</p> +<p>They took him down into the main cabin; +Varde ahead, then Joel, and old Aaron close behind, +his hand on Joel’s elbow. Priss met them +in the after cabin, crouching in a corner, white +and still, her hands at her throat. Her eyes +met his for an instant, before Varde led him +toward his own cabin. Aaron, behind, looked +toward Priss; and the girl whispered hoarsely: +</p> +<p>“Is he—hurt?” +</p> +<p>“He is not,” said Aaron grimly. “We were +most gentle with the man; and he made no +struggle at all....” +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_163' name='page_163'></a>163</span></p> +<p>Varde thrust Joel into the little cabin where +his bunk was; and Joel heard the snick of a +new-set bolt on the outer side of the door. He +was alone, bound fast.... +</p> +<p>Before he left the deck, he had heard Mark +cry an order to the man at the wheel. The telltale +in the after cabin ceiling told him the +<i>Nathan Ross</i> had changed her course again ... for +Mark’s island.... In the face of +men, he had held himself steady and calm.... +But now, alone in his cabin, he strained at +his bonds, lips cracking over set teeth. He +strained and tugged.... Hopeless.... +</p> +<p>No! Not hopeless! He felt them yield a +little, a little more.... Then, with a tiny snap +of sound, the coils were loose, and he shook the +cords down over his wrists and hands. He +caught them as they fell across his fingers, lest +the sound of their fall might warn Varde, in the +cabin outside his door; and—he was still stupefied +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_164' name='page_164'></a>164</span> +by the surprise of this deliverance—he +lifted the broken bonds and examined +them.... +</p> +<p>A single strand had yielded, loosing all the +rest. And where it had broken, Joel saw, it +had been sliced all but through, with a keen +blade. +</p> +<p>Who? His thoughts raced back over the +brief minutes of his bondage. Who? +</p> +<p>No other but Aaron Burnham could have had +the chance and the good will. Old Aaron.... And +Aaron’s knives were always razor +sharp. Drawn once across the tight-stretched +cord.... +</p> +<p>Aaron had freed him. Aaron.... +</p> +<p>He remembered something else. Aaron’s +words to Mark on deck. “I’ve set the bolt on +his cabin door....” +</p> +<p>Aaron had set the new bolt that was the only +bar between him and the after cabin, where +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_165' name='page_165'></a>165</span> +Varde stood watch. Aaron had set the bolt; +and Aaron had cut his bonds. Therefore—the +bolt must be flimsy, easily forced away. That +would be Aaron’s plan. A single thrust would +open the way.... +</p> +<p>He turned toward the door; then caught himself, +drew back, dropped on the bunk and lay +there, planning what he must do. +</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_166' name='page_166'></a>166</span> +<h2>XV</h2> +</div> + +<p>The discovery of Aaron’s loyalty had been +immensely heartening to Joel. If Aaron +were loyal, there might be others.... Must +be.... Not all men are false.... +</p> +<p>He wondered who they would be; he went +over the men, one by one, from mate to humblest +foremast hand. Finch and Varde were +surely against him. Old Hooper—he and +Aaron were cronies, and the other mates had +left Hooper somewhat out of their movements +thus far. Old Hooper might be, give him his +chance, on Joel’s side.... +</p> +<p>Old Hooper, and Aaron. Two. Dick Morrell? +A boy, hot with the wonder and glamor +of Mark’s tale. Easily swung to either side. +Joel thought he would not swing too desperately +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_167' name='page_167'></a>167</span> +to the lawless side. But—he could not +be counted on. What others were there? +</p> +<p>Joel had brought his own harpooner from the +<i>Martin Wilkes</i>. A big Island black. A decent +man.... A chance. Besides him, there +were three men who had served Asa Worthen +long among the foremast hands. Uncertain +quantities. Chances everywhere.... +</p> +<p>But—he must strike quickly. There was no +time to sound them out. When his dinner was +brought at noon, his broken bonds would be discovered. +They would be more careful thereafter. +Three hours lay before him.... +</p> +<p>He set himself to listen with all his ears; to +guess at what was going on above decks, and so +choose his moment. He must wait as long as it +was safe to wait; he must wait till men’s bloods +ran less hot after the crisis of the morning. He +must wait till sober second thought was upon +them.... +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_168' name='page_168'></a>168</span></p> +<p>But there was always the chance to fear that +Mark might come down. He could not wait +too long.... +</p> +<p>He could hear feet moving on the deck above +his head. The <i>Nathan Ross</i> had run into +rougher weather with her change of course; +the wind was stiffening, and now and then +a whisk of spray came aboard. He heard +Jim Finch’s bellowing commands.... Heard +Mark’s laughter. Mark and Jim were astern, +fairly over his head. +</p> +<p>There were men in the main cabin. The +scrape of their feet, the murmur of their voices +came to him. Dick Morrell and old Hooper, +perhaps.... +</p> +<p>It was through these men that Joel’s moment +came. Finch, on deck, shouted down to them.... Mark +had decided to shorten sail, ease the +strain on the old masts. Joel heard Morrell +and Hooper go up to the deck.... +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_169' name='page_169'></a>169</span></p> +<p>That would mean most of the men aloft.... +The decks would be fairly clear. His +chance.... +</p> +<p>He wished he could know where Varde sat; +but he could not be sure of that, and he could +not wait to guess by listening. He caught up a +blanket from his bunk, held it open in his hands, +drew back—and threw himself against the cabin +door. +</p> +<p>It opened so easily that he overbalanced, all +but fell. The screws had been set in punch +holes so large that the threads scarce took hold +at all. Joel stumbled out—saw Varde on the +cushioned bench which ran across the stern. +The mate was reading, a book from Joel’s narrow +shelf. At sight of Joel, he was for an instant +paralyzed with surprise.... +</p> +<p>That instant was long enough for Joel. He +swept the blanket down upon the man, smothering +his cries with fold on fold; and he grappled +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_170' name='page_170'></a>170</span> +Varde, and crushed him, and beat at his head +with his fists until the mate’s spasmodic struggles +slackened. Priss had heard the sounds of +combat, swept out of her cabin, bent above +them. He looked up and saw her; and he said +quietly: +</p> +<p>“Get back into your place.” +</p> +<p>She cried pitifully: “I want to help. +Please....” +</p> +<p>He shook his head. “This is my task. +Quick.” +</p> +<p>She fled.... +</p> +<p>He lifted Varde and carried him back to the +cabin where he himself had been captive; and +there, with the cords that had bound his own +arms, he bound Varde, wrist and ankle; and he +stripped away the blanket, and stuffed into +Varde’s mouth a heavy, woolen sock, and tied it +there with a handkerchief.... Varde’s eyes +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_171' name='page_171'></a>171</span> +flickered open at the last; and Joel said to him: +</p> +<p>“I must leave you here for the present. You +will do well to lie quietly.” +</p> +<p>He left the man lying on the floor, and went +out into the after cabin and salvaged the bolt +and screws that had been sent flying by his +thrust. He put the bolt back in place, pushed +the screws into the holes, bolted the door.... No +trace remained of his escape.... +</p> +<p>Priss stood in her own door. Without looking +at her, he opened the door into the main +cabin. That apartment was empty, as he had +expected. The companion stair led to the +deck.... +</p> +<p>But he could not go up that way. Mark +and Jim Finch were within reach of the top of +the stair; he would be at a disadvantage, coming +up to them from below. He must reach the +deck before they saw him. +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_172' name='page_172'></a>172</span></p> +<p>He crossed the cabin to a lockfast, and +opened it, and took out the two pairs of heavy +ship’s irons that lay there. Spring handcuffs +that locked without a key.... He put one +pair in each pocket of his coat. +</p> +<p>There was a seldom used door that opened +from the main cabin into a passage which led in +turn to the steerage where the harpooners slept. +Joel stepped to this door, slipped the bolt, entered +the passage, and closed the door behind +him. +</p> +<p>It was black dark, where he stood. The passage +was unlighted; and the swinging lamp in +the steerage did not send its rays this far. The +<i>Nathan Ross</i> was heeling and bucking heavily +in the cross seas, and Joel chose his footing carefully, +and moved forward along the passage, his +hands braced against the wall on either side. +The way was short, scarce half a dozen feet; +but he was long in covering the distance, and he +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_173' name='page_173'></a>173</span> +paused frequently to listen. He had no wish +to encounter the harpooners in their narrow +quarters.... +</p> +<p>He heard, at last, the muffled sound of a +snore; and so covered the last inches of his way +more quickly. When he was able to look into +the place, he saw that two of the men were in +their bunks, apparently asleep. The black +whom he had brought from the <i>Nathan Ross</i> +was not there. Joel was glad to think he was +on deck; glad to hope for the chance of his +help.... +</p> +<p>With steps so slow he seemed like a shadow +in the semi-darkness, he crossed to the foot of +the ladder that led to the deck. The men in +their bunks still slept. He began to climb.... The +ship was rolling heavily, so that he +was forced to grip the ladder tightly.... One +of the sleepers stirred, and Joel froze where he +stood, and watched, and waited for endless +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_174' name='page_174'></a>174</span> +seconds till the man became quiet once more. +</p> +<p>He climbed till his head was on a level with +the deck still hidden by the sides of the scuttle +at the top of the ladder. And there he poised +himself; for the last steps to the deck must be +made in a single rush, so quickly that interference +would be impossible.... +</p> +<p>He made them; one ... three.... He +stood upon the deck, looked aft.... +</p> +<p>Mark and Jim Finch stood there, not ten feet +away from him. Finch’s back was turned, but +Mark saw Joel instantly; and Joel, watching, +saw Mark’s mouth widen in a broad and mischievously +delighted smile. +</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_175' name='page_175'></a>175</span> +<h2>XVI</h2> +</div> + +<p>At the moment when Joel reached the +deck, the other men aboard the <i>Nathan +Ross</i> were widely scattered. +</p> +<p>Varde, the second mate, he had left tied and +helpless in the cabin. Two of the four harpooners +were below in their bunks, asleep. The +greater part of one watch was likewise below, +in the fo’c’s’le; and the rest of the crew, under +Dick Morrell’s eye, were shortening sail. In +the after part of the ship there were only Mark +Shore, Finch, a foremast hand at the wheel, old +Aaron Burnham, and the cook. Of these, +Mark, Jim, and the man at the wheel were in +sight when Joel appeared; and only Mark had +seen him. +</p> +<p>Joel saw his brother smile, and stood for an +instant, poised to meet an attack. None came. +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_176' name='page_176'></a>176</span> +He swept his eyes forward and saw that he need +fear no immediate interference from that direction; +and so he went quietly toward the men +astern. The broad back of Jim Finch was +within six feet of him.... +</p> +<p>What moved Mark Shore in that moment, it +is hard to say. It may have been the reckless +spirit of the man, willing to wait and watch and +see what Joel would do; or it may have been the +distaste he must have felt for Jim Finch’s slavish +adulation; or it may have been an unadmitted +admiration for Joel’s courage.... +</p> +<p>At any rate, while Joel advanced, Mark stood +still and smiled; and he gave Finch no warning, +so that when Joel touched the mate’s elbow, +Finch whirled with a startled gasp of surprise +and consternation, and in his first panic, tried to +back away. Still Mark made no move. The +man at the wheel uttered one exclamation, +looked quickly at Mark for commands, and took +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_177' name='page_177'></a>177</span> +his cue from his leader. Finch was left alone +and unsupported to face Joel. +</p> +<p>Joel did not pursue the retreating mate. He +stepped to the rail, where the whaleboats hung, +and called to Finch quietly: +</p> +<p>“Mr. Finch, step here.” +</p> +<p>Finch had retreated until his shoulders were +braced against the wall of the after house. He +leaned there, hands outspread against the wall +behind him, staring at Joel with goggling eyes. +And Joel said again: +</p> +<p>“Come here, Mr. Finch.” +</p> +<p>Joel’s composure, and the determination and +the confidence in his tone, frightened Finch. +He clamored suddenly: “How did he get here, +Captain Shore? Jump him. Tie him up—you—Aaron....” +</p> +<p>He appealed to the man at the wheel, and to +old Aaron, who had appeared in the doorway of +the tiny compartment where his tools were +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_178' name='page_178'></a>178</span> +stored. Neither stirred. Mark Shore, chuckling, +stared at Finch and at Joel; and Finch +cried: +</p> +<p>“Captain Shore. Come on. Let’s get +him....” +</p> +<p>Joel said for the third time: “Come here, +Finch.” +</p> +<p>Finch held out a hand to Mark, appealingly. +Mark shook his head. “This is your affair, +Finch,” he said. “Go get him, yourself. He’s +waiting for you. And—you’re twice his size.” +</p> +<p>Give Finch his due. With even moral support +behind him, he would have overwhelmed +Joel in a single rush. Without that support, +he would still have faced any reasonable attack. +But there was something baffling about Joel’s +movements, his tones, the manner of his command, +that stupefied Finch. He felt that he +was groping in the dark. The mutiny must +have collapsed.... It may have been only +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_179' name='page_179'></a>179</span> +a snare to trap him.... He was alone—against +Joel, and with none to support him.... +</p> +<p>Finch’s courage was not of the solitary kind. +He took one slow step toward Joel, and in that +single step was surrender. +</p> +<p>Joel stood still, but his eyes held the big +man’s; and he said curtly: “Quickly, Finch.” +</p> +<p>Finch took another lagging step, another.... +</p> +<p>Joel dropped his hand in his coat pocket and +drew out a pair of irons. He tossed them toward +Finch; and the mate shrank, and the +irons struck him in the body and fell to the deck. +He stared down at them, stared at Joel. +</p> +<p>Joel said: “Pick them up. Snap one on your +right wrist. Then put your arms around the +davit, there, and snap the other....” +</p> +<p>Finch shook his head in a bewildered way, as +though trying to understand; and abruptly, a +surge of honest anger swept him, and he stiffened, +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_180' name='page_180'></a>180</span> +and wheeled to rush at Joel. But Joel +made no move either to retreat or to meet the +attack; and Finch, like a huge and baffled bear, +slumped again, and slowly stooped, and gathered +up the handcuffs.... +</p> +<p>With them in his hands, he looked again at +Joel; and for a long moment their eyes battled. +Then Joel stepped forward, touched Finch +lightly on the arm, and guided him toward the +rail. Finch was absolutely unresisting. The +sap had gone out of him.... +</p> +<p>Joel drew the man’s arms around the davit, +and snapped the irons upon his wrist. Finch +was fast there, out of whatever action there was +to come. And Joel’s lips tightened with relief. +He stepped back.... +</p> +<p>He saw, then, that some of the crew had +heard, and three or four of them were gathering +amidships, near the try works. The two +harpooners were there; and one of them was +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_181' name='page_181'></a>181</span> +that black whom Joel had brought from the +<i>Martin Wilkes</i>, and in whom he placed some +faith. He eyed these men for a moment, wondering +whether they were nerved to strike.... +</p> +<p>But they did not stir, they did not move toward +him; and he guessed they were as stupefied +as Finch by what had happened. So long +as the men aft allowed him to go free, they +would not interfere. They did not understand; +and without understanding, they were +helpless. +</p> +<p>He turned his back on them, and looked toward +Mark. +</p> +<p>Mark Shore had watched Joel’s encounter +with Finch in frank enjoyment. Such incidents +pleased him; they appealed to his love +for the bold and daring facts of life.... He +had smiled. +</p> +<p>But now Joel saw that he had stepped back a +little, perhaps by accident. He was behind the +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_182' name='page_182'></a>182</span> +man at the wheel, behind the spot where Aaron +Burnham stood. He was standing almost +against the after rail, in the narrow corridor +that runs fore and aft through the after +house.... +</p> +<p>The pistols were in his belt, and the two +rifles leaned on the rail at his side. Mark himself +was standing at ease, his arms relaxed, his +hands resting lightly on his hips and his feet +apart. He swayed to the movement of the +ship, balancing with the unconscious ease of +long custom. +</p> +<p>Joel went toward him, not slowly, yet without +haste. He passed old Aaron with no word, +passed the wheelman, and faced his brother. +They were scarce two feet apart when he +stopped; and there were no others near enough +to hear, above the slashing of the seas and the +whistle of the wind, his low words. +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_183' name='page_183'></a>183</span></p> +<p>He said: “Mark, you’ve made a mistake. A +bad mistake. In—starting this mutiny.” +</p> +<p>Mark smiled slowly. “That’s a hard word, +Joel. It’s in my mind that if this is mutiny, +it’s a very peaceful model.” +</p> +<p>“Nevertheless, it is just that,” said Joel. +“It is that, and it is also a mistake. And—you +are wise man enough to see this. There +is still time to remedy the thing. It can be forgotten.” +</p> +<p>Mark chuckled. “If that is true, you’ve a +most convenient memory, Joel.” +</p> +<p>Joel’s cheeks flushed slowly, and he answered: +“I am anxious to forget—whatever +shames the House of Shore.” +</p> +<p>Mark threw back his head and laughed aloud. +“Bless you, boy,” he exclaimed. “’Tis no +shame to you to have fallen victim to our +numbers.” But there was a heat in his tones +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_184' name='page_184'></a>184</span> +that told Joel he was shaken. And Joel insisted +steadily: +</p> +<p>“It was not my own shame I feared.” +</p> +<p>“Mine, then?” Mark challenged. +</p> +<p>“Aye,” said Joel. “Yours.” +</p> +<p>Mark bent toward him with a mocking flare +of anger in his eyes; and he said harshly: +“You’ve spoken too much for a small man. Be +silent. And go below.” +</p> +<p>Joel waited for an instant; then his shoulders +stirred as though he chose a hard course, +and he held out his hand and said quietly: “Give +me the guns, Mark.” +</p> +<p>Mark stared at him; and he laughed aloud. +“You’re immense, boy,” he applauded. “The +cool nerve of you....” His eyes warmed +with frank admiration. “Joel, hark to this,” +he cried, and jerked his head toward the captive +Finch. “You’ve ripped the innards out of that +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_185' name='page_185'></a>185</span> +mate of mine. I’ll give you the job. You’re +mate of the <i>Nathan Ross</i> and I’m proud to +have you....” +</p> +<p>“I am captain of the <i>Nathan Ross</i>,” said +Joel. “And you are my brother, and a—mutineer. +Give me the guns.” +</p> +<p>Mark threw up his hand angrily. “You’ll +not hear reason. Then—go below, and stay +there. You....” +</p> +<p>There are few men who can stand flat-footed +and still hit a crushing blow; but Joel did just +this. When Mark began to speak, Joel’s hands +had been hanging limply at his sides. On +Mark’s last word, Joel’s right hand whipped up +as smoothly as a whip snaps; and it smacked on +Mark’s lean jaw with much the sound a whip +makes. It struck just behind the point of the +jaw, on the left hand side; and Mark’s head +jerked back, and his knees sagged, and he tottered +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_186' name='page_186'></a>186</span> +weakly forward into Joel’s very arms. +</p> +<p>Joel’s hands were at the other’s belt, even as +Mark fell. He brought out the revolvers, then +let Mark slip down to the deck; and he stepped +over the twitching body of his brother, and +caught up the two rifles, and dropped them, +with the revolvers, over the after rail. +</p> +<p>Mark’s splendid body had already begun to +recover from the blow; he was struggling to sit +up, and he saw what Joel did, and cried aloud: +“Don’t be a fool, boy. Keep them.... +Hell!” For the weapons were gone. Joel +turned, and looked down at him; and he said +quietly: +</p> +<p>“While I can help it, there’ll be no blood shed +on my ship.” +</p> +<p>Mark swept an arm toward the waist of the +ship, and Joel looked and saw a growing knot +of angry men there. “See them, do you?” +Mark demanded. “They’re drunk for blood. +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_187' name='page_187'></a>187</span> +It’s out of your hands, Joel. You’ve thrown +your ace away. Now, boy—what will you +do?” +</p> +<p>The men began to surge aft, along the deck. +</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_188' name='page_188'></a>188</span> +<h2>XVII</h2> +</div> + +<p>THE story of that battle upon the tumbling +decks of the <i>Nathan Ross</i> was to +be told and re-told at many a gam upon the +whaling grounds. It was such a story as strong +men love; a story of overwhelming odds, of +epic combat, of splendid death where blood ran +hot and strong.... +</p> +<p>There were a full score of men in the group +that came aft toward Joel. And as they came, +others, running from the fo’c’s’le and dropping +from the rigging, joined them. Every man +was drunk with the vision of wealth that he had +built upon Mark Shore’s story. The thing had +grown and grown in the telling; it had fattened +on the greed native in the men; and it was a +monstrous thing now, and one that would not be +denied.... The men, as they moved aft, +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_189' name='page_189'></a>189</span> +made grumbling sounds with their half-caught +breath; and these sounds blended into a roaring +growl like the growl of a beast. +</p> +<p>To face these men stood Joel. For an instant, +he was alone. Then, without word, old +Aaron took his stand beside his captain. Aaron +held gripped in both hands an adze. Its edge +was sharp enough to slice hard wood like +cheese.... And at Joel’s other side, the cook. +A round man, with greasy traces of his craft +upon his countenance. He carried a heavy +cleaver. There is an ancient feud between galley +and fo’c’s’le; and the men greeting the +cook’s coming with a hungry cry of delight.... +</p> +<p>Joel glanced at these new allies, and saw +their weapons. He took the adze from Aaron, +the cleaver from the other; and he turned and +hurled them behind him, over the rail. And in +the moment’s silence that followed on this +action, he called to the men: +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_190' name='page_190'></a>190</span></p> +<p>“Go back to your places.” +</p> +<p>They growled at him; they were wordless, +but they knew the thing they desired. The +cook complained at Joel’s elbow: “I could use +that cleaver.” +</p> +<p>“I’ll not have blood spilled,” Joel told him. +“If there’s fighting, it will be with fists....” +</p> +<p>And Mark touched Joel lightly on the shoulder, +and took his place beside him. He was +smiling, a twisted smile above the swollen +lump upon his jaw. He said lightly: “If it’s +fists, Joel—I think I’m safest to fight beside +you.” +</p> +<p>Joel looked up at him with a swift glance, +and he brushed his hand across his eyes, and +nodded. “I counted on that, Mark—in the +last, long run,” he said. Mark gripped his +arm and pressed it; and in that moment the +long, unspoken enmity between the brothers +died forever. They faced the men.... +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_191' name='page_191'></a>191</span></p> +<p>One howled like a wolf: “He’s done us. +Done us in.” +</p> +<p>And another: “They’re going to hog it. +Them two....” +</p> +<p>The little sea of scowling, twisting faces +moved, it surged forward.... The men +charged, more than a score, to overwhelm the +four. +</p> +<p>In the moment before, Joel had marked +young Dick Morrell, at one side, twisted +with indecision; and in the instant when +the men moved, he called: “With us, Mr. +Morrell.” +</p> +<p>It was command, not question; and the boy +answered with a shout and a blow.... On the +flank of the men, he swept toward them. And +Joel’s harpooner, and one of Asa Worthen’s +old men formed a triumvirate that fought +there.... +</p> +<p>They were thus seven against a score. But +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_192' name='page_192'></a>192</span> +they were seven good men. And the score +were a mob.... +</p> +<p>It was fists, at the first, as Joel had sworn. +The first, charging line broke upon them; and +old Aaron was swept back, fighting like a cat, +and crushed and bruised and left helpless in an +instant. The fat cook dodged into his galley, +and snatched a knife and held the door there, +prodding the flanks of those who swirled past +his stronghold. Joel dropped the first man +who came to him; and likewise Mark. But +another twined ’round Joel’s legs, and he could +not kick them free, and there was no time to +stoop and tear the man away. +</p> +<p>He and Mark kept back to back for a moment; +but Mark was not a defensive fighter. +He could not stand still and wait attack; and +when his second man fell, he leaped the twisting +body and charged into the clump of them. His +black hair tossed, his eye was flaming; and his +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_193' name='page_193'></a>193</span> +long arms worked like pistons and like flails. +He became the center of a group that writhed +and dissolved, and formed again. His head +rose above them all. +</p> +<p>The man who gripped Joel’s legs, freed one +hand and began to beat at Joel’s body from below. +Joel could not endure the blows; he +bent, and took a rain of buffets on his head +and shoulders while he caught the attacker by +the throat, and lifted him up and flung him +away. He staggered free, set his back against +the galley wall; and when he shifted to avoid +another attack, he found his place in the galley +door. The fat cook crouched behind him, and +Joel heard him shout: “I’ll watch your legs, +Cap’n. Give ’em the iron, sir. Give ’em th’ +iron.” +</p> +<p>Once Joel, looking down, saw the cook’s +knife play like a flame between his knees.... +None would seek to pin him there. +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_194' name='page_194'></a>194</span></p> +<p>The black harpooner fought his way across +the deck to Joel’s side. He left a trail of +twisting bodies behind him. And he was grinning +with a huge delight. “Now, sar, we’ll do +’em, sar,” he screamed. The sweat poured +down his black cheeks; and his mouth was cut +and bleeding. His shirt was torn away from +one shoulder and arm.... +</p> +<p>“Good man,” said Joel, between his panting +blows. “Good man!” +</p> +<p>Across the deck, one who had run forward +for a handspike swept it down on young Dick +Morrel’s brown head. Morrell dodged, but +the blow cracked his shoulder and swept him +to the deck. The man who had fought beside +him spraddled the prostrate body, and jerked +an iron from the boat on the davits at his back +and held it like a lance, to keep all men at a +distance. A sheath knife sped, and twisted in +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_195' name='page_195'></a>195</span> +the air, and struck him butt first above the eye, +so that he fell limply and lay still.... +</p> +<p>Mark Shore had been forced against the rail +near where Jim Finch was pinned. Big Finch +was howling and weeping with fright; and a +little man of the crew with a rat’s mean soul +who hated Finch had found his hour. He was +leaping about the mate, lashing him mercilessly +with a heavy end of rope; and Finch screamed +and twisted beneath the blows. +</p> +<p>So swiftly had the tumult of the battle arisen +that all these things had come to pass before +the harpooners asleep in the steerage could wake +and reach the deck. When they climbed the +ladder, and looked about them, they saw Morrell +and his ally prostrate at one side, Joel and +the cook holding the galley door against a half +dozen men; and big Mark’s towering head +amidst a knot of half a dozen more. And one +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_196' name='page_196'></a>196</span> +of the harpooners backed away toward the waist +of the ship, watchful and wary, taking no part +in the affair. +</p> +<p>But the other ... He was a Cape Verder, +black blood crossed with Spanish; and Mark +Shore had tied him to a davit, once upon a +time, and lashed him till he bled, for faults +committed. He saw Mark now, and his eyes +shone greedily. +</p> +<p>This man crouched, and crossed to a boat—his +own—and chose his own harpoon. He +twisted off the wooden sheath that covered the +point, and flung it across the deck; and he poised +the heavy iron in his hands, and started slowly +toward Mark, moving on tiptoe, lightly as a +cat. +</p> +<p>Mark saw him coming; and the big man +shouted joyfully: “Why, Silva! Come, +you....” +</p> +<p>He flung aside the men encircling him. One +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_197' name='page_197'></a>197</span> +among them held the handspike with which he +had struck down Morrell; and Mark smote this +man in the body, and when he doubled, +wrenched the great club from his hands. He +swung this, leaped to meet the harpooner. +</p> +<p>They came together in mid-deck. The +great handspike whistled through the air, and +down. An egg-shell crunched beneath a heel.... +Silva dropped. +</p> +<p>Mark stood for an instant above him; and in +that instant, every man saw the harpoon which +Silva had driven home. Its heavy shaft hung, +dragging on the deck; it hung from Mark’s +breast, high in the right shoulder; and the point +stood out six inches behind his shoulder blade. +It seemed to drag at him; he bent slowly beneath +its weight, and drooped, and lay at last +across the body of the man whose skull the +handspike had crushed. +</p> +<p>There were, at that moment, about a dozen +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_198' name='page_198'></a>198</span> +of the men still on their feet; but in the instant +of their paralyzed dismay, two things struck +them; two furies ... Dick Morrell, tottering +on unsteady feet, brandishing a razor-tipped +lance full ten feet long. He came upon the +men from the flank, shouting; and Joel, when +he saw his brother fall, left his shelter in the +galley door and swept upon them. The fat +cook, with the knife, fought nobly at his side. +</p> +<p>The men broke; they fled headlong, forward; +and Joel and Morrell and the cook pursued +them, through the waist, past the trypots, +till they tumbled down the fo’c’s’le scuttle and +huddled in their bunks and howled.... +</p> +<p>A dozen limp bodies sprawled upon the deck, +bodies of moaning men with heads that would +ache and pound for days.... Joel left Morrell +to guard the fo’c’s’le, and went back among +them, going swiftly from man to man.... +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_199' name='page_199'></a>199</span></p> +<p>Silva was dead. The others would not die—save +only Mark. The iron had pierced his +chest, had ripped a lung.... +</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_200' name='page_200'></a>200</span> +<h2>XVIII</h2> +</div> + +<p>He died that night, smiling to the last. +He was able to speak, now and then, +before the end; and Joel and Priss were near +him, at his side, soothing him, listening.... +</p> +<p>He asked Joel, once: “Shall I tell you—where—pearls...” +</p> +<p>Joel shook his head. “I do not want them,” +he said. “They have enough blood to turn +them crimson. Let them lie.” +</p> +<p>And Mark smiled, and nodded faintly. +“Right, boy. Let them lie....” And his +eyes shone up at them; and he whispered presently: +“That was—a fight to tell about, +Joel....” +</p> +<p>In those hours beside Mark, Priss completed +the transition from girl to woman. She was +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_201' name='page_201'></a>201</span> +very sober, and quiet; but she did not weep, and +she answered Mark’s smiles. And Mark, +watching her, seemed to remember something, +toward the last. Joel saw his eyes beckon; and +he bent above his brother, and Mark whispered +weakly: +</p> +<p>“Treasure—Priss, Joel. She’s—worth all.... +Kissed her, but she fought me....” +</p> +<p>Joel gripped his brother’s hand. “I knew +there was no—harm in you—or in her,” he said. +“Don’t trouble, Mark....” +</p> +<p>When old Aaron had stitched the canvas +shroud, they laid Mark on the cutting stage; +and Joel read over him from the Book, while +the men stood silent by. Chastened men, heads +bandaged, arms in slings ... Big Jim Finch +at one side, shamed of face. Varde, sullen as +ever, but with hopelessness writ large upon him. +Morrell, and old Hooper.... +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_202' name='page_202'></a>202</span></p> +<p>Joel finished, and he closed the Book. +“Unto the deep....” The cutting stage +tilted, and the wave leaped and caught its burden +and bore it softly down.... The sun was +shining, the sea danced, the wind was warm on +fair Priscilla’s cheek.... +</p> +<p>And as though, the brief, dramatic chapter +being ended, another must at once begin, the +masthead man presently called down to Joel the +long, droning hail: +</p> +<p>“Ah-h-h-h! Blow-w-w-w-w!” +</p> +<p>And he flung his arm toward where a misty +spout sparkled in the sun a mile or two +away. Minutes later, the boats took water; +and the <i>Nathan Ross</i> was about her business +again. +</p> +<hr class='tb' /> + +<p>Joel wrote in the log that night, with Priscilla +beside him, her fingers in his hair. Priscilla +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_203' name='page_203'></a>203</span> +had been very humble, till Joel took her +in his arms and comforted her.... +</p> +<p>He set down the ship’s position; he recorded +their capture, that day, of a great bull cachalot; +and then: +</p> +<p>“... This day Mark Shore was buried at +sea. He died late last night, from wounds received +when he fought valiantly to put down +the mutiny of the crew. Fourth brother of the +House of Shore....” +</p> +<p>And below, the ancient and enduring epitaph: +</p> +<table summary='poetry' style='margin:0 auto'><tr><td> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0em;'>“‘All the brothers were valiant.’”</p> +</td></tr></table> + +<p>Priscilla, reading over his shoulder, pointed +to this line and whispered sorrowfully: “But I—called +you coward, Joel.” He looked up at +her, and smiled a little. “I know better now,” +she said. “So—give me the pen ... And +close your eyes....” +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_204' name='page_204'></a>204</span></p> +<p>He heard the scratch of steel on paper; and +when he opened his eyes again he saw that Priscilla +had underscored, with three deep strokes, +the first word of that honorable line. +</p> +<div class='ce'> +<p style=' font-size:0.8em; margin-top:2em;'>PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA</p> +</div> + +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<hr class="full" /> +<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ALL THE BROTHERS WERE VALIANT***</p> +<p>******* This file should be named 25885-h.txt or 25885-h.zip *******</p> +<p>This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:<br /> +<a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/5/8/8/25885">http://www.gutenberg.org/2/5/8/8/25885</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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