Billy Topsail & Company Part 27

"Well, well!" Tom Tulk sighed again. "There's many a man in this harbour would jump at the chance; but there's never another so honest that I could trust him."

"Many a man, if you like," Skipper George growled; "but not me."

"No, no," Tom Tulk agreed, with a covert little sneer and grin; "not you."

"'Tis a prison offense, man!"

"If you're cotched," Tom Tulk laughed. "An' tell me, George Rumm, is _I_ ever been cotched?"

"I'm not sayin' you is."

"No; nor never will be."

It had all been talked over before, of course; and it would be talked over again before a fortnight was past and the _Black Eagle_ had set sail for the French Sh.o.r.e with a valuable cargo. Tom Tulk had begun gingerly; he had proceeded with exquisite caution; he had ventured a bit more; at last he had come boldly out with the plan. Manned with care--manned as she could be and as Tom Tulk would take care to have her--the _Black Eagle_ was the s.h.i.+p for the purpose; and Skipper George, with a reputation for bad seamans.h.i.+p, was the man for the purpose. And the thing _would_ be easy. Tom Tulk knew it. Skipper George knew it. It could be successfully done. There was no doubt about it; and Skipper George hated to think that there was no doubt about it. The ease and safety with which he might have the money tumble into his pocket troubled him. It was not so much a temptation as an aggravation. He found himself thinking about it too often; he wanted to put it out of his mind, but could not.

"Now, Tom Tulk," said he, at last, flus.h.i.+ng angrily, "let's have no more o' this. I'm fair tired of it. I'll have nothin' t' do with it; an' I tells you so, once an' for all."

"Pa.s.s the bottle," said Tom Tulk.

The bottle went from hand to hand.

"We'll say no more about it," said Tom Tulk; "but I tells you, Skipper George, that that little clerk o' yours, Tommy Bull, is just the ticket. As for a crew, I got un handy."

"Belay, belay!"

"Ay, ay, Skipper George," Tom Tulk agreed; "but as for fetchin' a cargo o' fish into St. John's harbour without tellin' where it came from, if there's any man can beat me at that, why, I'd----"

Skipper George got up and pulled open the hatch.

"I'll see you again," said Tom Tulk.

Skipper George of the _Black Eagle_ helped himself to another dram when Tom Tulk had withdrawn his great body and sly face. It was true, all that Tom Tulk had said. It was true about the clerk; he was ripe to go bad. It was true about the crew; with hands scarce, and able-bodied young fellows bound to the Sidney mines for better wages, Skipper George could s.h.i.+p whom he liked and Tom Tulk chose. It was true about fetching fish into St. John's without accounting whence it came. Tom Tulk could do it; n.o.body would ask eccentric old Tom Tulk where he got his fish--everybody would laugh. It was true about the skipper himself; it was quite true that his reputation was none of the best as a sailing-master. But he had never lost a s.h.i.+p yet. They might say he had come near it, if they liked; but he had never lost a s.h.i.+p yet. No, sir; he had never lost a s.h.i.+p yet. Nor would he. He'd fetch the _Black Eagle_ home, right enough, and _show_ Sir Archibald Armstrong!

But the thing would be easy. It was disgustingly easy in prospect.

Skipper George wished that old Tom Tulk had never come near to bother him.

"Hang Tom Tulk!" thought he.

But how easy, after all, the thing would be!

The first hand put his head in the hatchway to tell Skipper George that he was to report to Sir Archibald Armstrong in the office at once. Skipper George was not quite easy about the three drams he had taken; but there was nothing for it but to appear in the office without delay. As a matter of fact Sir Archibald Armstrong detected nothing out of the way. He had something to say to Skipper George about the way to sail a schooner--about timid sailing, and reckless sailing, and feeling about in fogs, and putting out to sea, and running for harbour. When he had finished--and he spoke long and earnestly, with his blue eyes flas.h.i.+ng, his head in the air, his teeth snapping once in a while--when Sir Archibald had finished, Skipper George was standing with his cap in his hand, his face flushed, answering, "Yes, sir," and, "No, sir," in a way of the meekest. When he left the office he was unpleasantly aware that he was face to face with his last chance. In this new trouble he forgot all about Tom Tulk.

"Skipper George," he thought, taking counsel with himself, as he poured another dram, "you got t' do better."

He mused a long time.

"I _will_ do better," he determined. "I'll show un that I can sail a schooner."

Before he stowed away for the night, a little resentment crept into his thoughts of Sir Archibald. He had never felt this way before.

"I got t' stop this," he thought.

Tom Tulk was then dreaming over a gla.s.s of rum; and his dreams were pleasant dreams--concerning Skipper George of the _Black Eagle_.

CHAPTER XXVI

_In Which the Enterprise of Archie Armstrong Evolves Senor Fakerino, the Greatest Magician In Captivity. In Which, also, the Foolish are Importuned Not to be Fooled, Candy is Promised to Kids, Bill o' Burnt Bay is Persuaded to Tussle With "The Lost Pirate," and the "Spot Cash" Sets Sail_

For three dismal, foggy days, Archie Armstrong was the busiest business man in St. John's, Newfoundland. He was forever damp, splashed with mud, grimy-faced, wilted as to clothes and haggard as to manner. But make haste he must; there was not a day--not an hour--to spare: for it was now appallingly near August; and the first of September would delay for no man. When, with the advice of Sir Archibald and the help of every man-jack in the warehouses (even of the rat-eyed little Tommy Bull), the credit of Topsail, Armstrong, Grimm & Company had been exhausted to the last penny, Archie sighed in a thoroughly self-satisfied way, pulled out his new check-book and plunged into work of another sort.

"How's that bank-account holding out?" Sir Archibald asked, that evening.

"I'm a little bit bent, dad," Archie replied, "but not yet broke."

Sir Archibald looked concerned.

"Advertising," Archie briefly explained.

"But," said Sir Archibald, in protest, "n.o.body has ever advertised in White Bay before."

"Somebody is just about to," Archie laughed.

Sir Archibald was puzzled. "Wh-wh-what _for_?" he inquired. "What kind of advertising?"

"Handbills, dad, and concerts, and flags, and circus-lemonade."

"Nothing more, son?" Sir Archibald mocked.

"Senor Fakerino," Archie replied, with a smack of self-satisfaction, "the World's Greatest Magician."

"The same being?"

"Yours respectfully, A. Armstrong."

Sir Archibald shrugged his shoulders. Then his eyes twinkled, his sides began to shake, and he threw back his head and burst into a roar of laughter, in which Archie and his mother--they were all at dinner--joined him.

"Why, dad," Archie exclaimed, with vast enthusiasm, "the firm of Topsail, Armstrong, Grimm & Company is going to give the people of White Bay such a good time this summer that they'll never deal with anybody else. And we're going to give them the worth of their money, too--every penny's worth. On a cash basis we can afford to. We're going into business to build up a business; and when I come back from that English school next summer it's going to go right ahead."

Sir Archibald admitted the good prospect.

"Pity the poor _Black Eagle_!" said Archie, grinning.