Captain Pott's Minister Part 17

"But, Uncle Josiah, don't you think his methods are a little too strenuous and out of the ordinary in dealing with spiritual derelicts?"

she asked, trying hard to hide the pride which the Captain's observation had wakened.

"I ain't got much of an idea what you mean by spiritual derricks, Beth, but I'm going to say this: he's the fust real live preacher I ever see, and if he's got ways of bringing 'em in that's a mite off the set course, he's going to do it, and there ain't enough men living to stop him. He has found some of that queer sort of religion what he called anonymous down there to that Inn, and if he'd have taken water the other night he'd have lost every one of them boys. He fought that puncher because he was after the gang behind him. If things had gone against him, I'd have pitched in and helped him trounce the hull enduring lot, and I'd have felt mighty religious while I was doing it, too."

"But I think he might prove just as much a success and still not be so original. It doesn't pay when one's position and salary depend on how one acts."

"Mack's position and salary can hang from the same gallows, so far as he's concerned, if they go to putting muzzles on him."

"I'm so glad you said that!" exclaimed the girl, giving his arm a gentle squeeze.

The seaman stared at her. What on earth could she mean? "Beth, you've sartin got me gasping to understand you this morning."

"I'm trying so hard to explain without actually telling you. He must leave the church!"

"Must leave----Say, what in tarnation do you mean?"

"Please, don't hint that I told you, but it has been decided by the vestry."

"I want to know!"

"It isn't to be on account of the fight, though. Oh, I was real bad and listened," she explained to the surprised seaman. "I didn't mean to at first, but I couldn't help hearing. Then, I had to listen to the rest. I shall tell Father what I have done just as soon as I can, for I know it was wicked of me. I felt I must come to you. They are going to find something in his sermons that isn't orthodox, and then, there is to be a church trial! That was what I didn't want to tell you for fear you wouldn't understand, but you didn't suggest anything for me to do, and I had to tell you. Can't you get Mr. McGowan to be careful what he puts in his sermons?"

"Am I to tell him whose orders they be?"

"Indeed, not!"

"A heap of good it will do, then, for me to say anything. He'd take it as a banter for a fight. Cal'late we'll have to trust to luck that he'll stick to the old chart."

Elizabeth slid from the roof of the cabin to the deck. She walked to the railing and looked over into the water. The Captain, thinking she was ready to go ash.o.r.e, followed. She swung about, and stamped her foot, angrily.

"Why don't you men know how to act! Why doesn't he know how to behave himself!"

She turned back and looked out across the Sound. The mainland showed dim through the haze of the Indian Summer morning.

"Beth, I hate to see you worrying like this," said the Captain, a tremor in his voice. "I wish I could help you, I sartin wish I could."

She came to him, and laying her hand lightly on his sleeve, looked eagerly into his eyes.

"You dear old Uncle! Please, forgive me for telling you all I have. I am worried, dreadfully worried, about Father. He is so different of late.

He takes everything so seriously where Mr. McGowan is concerned. He is not at all like himself. I'm afraid something dreadful will happen to him if things do not right themselves very soon."

"Now, don't you worry, Beth. Just you be patient. I cal'late there is something wrong, but there ain't no channel so long that it ain't got an outlet of some sort, and the rougher 'tis, the shorter it's li'ble to be. We're going to get out, you bank on that, and when we do, your daddy is going to be aboard."

"Thank you, Uncle Josiah. I'm ready now to go ash.o.r.e."

The look of relief on her beautiful face, as the tears of grat.i.tude filled her eyes, caused the Captain to swallow very hard, and to draw the back of his hand across his eyes, remarking that the smoke was getting into them. He was unmindful that his pipe had gone out long ago.

On his way home the skipper became uncomfortably aware of the seriousness of his promise to the Elder's daughter. He had pledged himself and his support indirectly to Jim Fox! What that might mean he could not foresee. He remembered what Elizabeth had told him concerning her father's condition, and this set a new train of thought going through his brain. He recalled that there had always been times since Jim Fox had first come to Little River when he had seemed dejected and melancholy. Could it be possible that there had been some physical disease working all these years in the Elder's body, and might that not be an explanation for the mental state into which he seemed to be heading? Might that not be the reason for his strange actions against the minister and himself?

Captain Pott entered the dining-room just as Miss Pipkin emerged from the minister's study. She was carrying a large crock. The seaman looked intently at the bowl.

"There was a mite too much pepper in that basin, Josiah. I was that excited about his ankle that I didn't notice how much I was putting in.

It'll soon be better, now, for I was bathing it in this cream that Mrs.

Beaver give me."

"Bathing his foot in--what?"

"Cream. It takes the soreness out."

"Clemmie, you're a wonder! But if that cream come from Eadie's I cal'late it won't be none too healing."

"I've been talking to the minister about the services," she said, placing the crock on the table. "The Ladies' Aid meets this afternoon.

I'm going."

"You'd best get a life-preserver on."

"Josiah, you shouldn't talk like that. They do a lot of good. I ain't been to one for years. It's so Christian and nice to do things for others. That's what Aid means, aiding some one else."

"If I ain't 'way off, most of the aiding business runs to the tongues of them present. Most women lean to tongue, excepting you, Clemmie."

"Josiah, you ain't fit for the minister to live with! You shouldn't talk like that about the business of the Lord."

"Cal'late I am sort of a heathen. But I'll wager that you'll find them there aiders interested in some things aside the business of the Lord."

Miss Pipkin left him and hurried into the kitchen for broom and duster.

It was late in the afternoon when she had finished her house-cleaning, and sailed forth in the direction of the church. The Captain was sitting on the front steps of the chapel, and rose to meet her as she turned in at the gate.

"I hope the meeting ain't over," she said, breathless.

"Just got her off the ways, I'd say," he commented, jerking his head toward an open window through which came the sound of many voices.

"You'd best tell 'em where you're staying, Clemmie, or you're li'ble to hear some things not intended for your ears."

She bridled past him and swept into the church. There was a brief pause in the buzz, but the hubbub that followed was doubled in intensity.

That evening while Miss Pipkin was placing the food on the table she appeared worried. She inquired solicitously concerning the minister's ankle, but there was a distant polite tone in her voice. After supper she asked the Captain to dry the dishes for her, and went to the kitchen. The seaman took his place at the sink only to have the cloth s.n.a.t.c.hed from his hand.

"Josiah,"--she whispered,--"close that door to the dining-room, I've got something to ask you."

"Ain't you going to let me dry them dishes for you?"

"Of course not."

The door was closed, and the Captain came back to the sink.

"What's wrong with Mr. McGowan?"

"Too much red pepper, I cal'late."