The Harbor Master Part 16

Well, a punch was brewed, and Pat played on his fiddle, and Flora Lockhart sang as no one but herself ever sang before on that coast--yes, or anywhere else in the whole island of Newfoundland. The wonder of her singing even set young Cormick's heart to aching with nameless and undreamed of aches. As for the skipper, he looked as if the fairies had caught him for sure!

CHAPTER XIV

d.i.c.k LYNCH MEETS MR. DARLING

In Chance Along the wintry days and weeks crawled by, with cold and thaw, wind, snow and fog. Flora Lockhart waited in vain for a reply to her letter. At last her suspicions were awakened by a word from Mother Nolan; so she wrote another letter and gave it to the old woman. The old woman gave it to Mary Kavanagh, and Mary in turn put it into the hands of one of the young men of the harbor, with instructions to take it to Witless Bay and from there send it out by mail. The young man promised to do all this, of course.

"An' mind ye," cautioned Mary, "don't ye go an' let the skipper know what ye bes up to."

Now this young man was one of the dozen who wanted Mary Kavanagh for a wife. He was not brave, he was not honest; but he was as cunning as a fox. So he thought the matter over, and soon came to the conclusion that the game was not worth the candle. He was afraid of the skipper; and he was content that the girl from up-along should remain in the harbor and continue to blind the skipper's heart to the charms of Mary Kavanagh. So he went quietly to the master, put the letter in his hands and told him what he knew of it. Dennis Nolan destroyed the letter, and told the young man to keep himself out of sight for the next three days. The infatuated skipper had not yet given up hope of winning the heart of the wonderful creature from up-along.

Late in March a French brig, bound for St. Pierre, went ash.o.r.e on the Squid Rocks to the north of Chance Along. Only two of her crew reached the land-wash alive. They were powerful fellows, swarthy as Arabs, with gold rings in their ears, the devil in their hearts, and a smattering of many languages on their tongues. The gale that had driven the brig on the Squid Rocks had interrupted them in the hatching of a mutiny against their captain, mate and boatswain; for the brig's cargo consisted of silks and wines for the smugglers of St. Pierre, and two chests of gold containing the half-year's pay of the Governor, officials, and soldiers of the little island.

Black Dennis Nolan and his men found them on the land-wash, more dead than alive, dragged them back out of reach of the spray, and laid them on blankets beside a fire. The brig was well in among the rocks, going to pieces fast. After two hours of daring effort the skipper and four of his men reached her, and found the chests of French gold in the lazaret beneath the captain's cabin. They remained aboard the wreck for nearly an hour before venturing sh.o.r.eward with the treasure. They salvaged the chests at last, however, placed a guard over them, and made one more trip to the brig and back, bringing a bale or two of silk and a cask of red wine the second time. Then the brig melted and fell to pieces before their eyes. It was not until then that any one noticed that the two swarthy sailors had recovered and departed, taking with them the blankets and bottle of rum which had been employed in reviving them. The skipper swore mightily at this discovery, knocked a few of his men about, then had the chests of gold stowed on two hand-sleds and set out for home in full force and at top speed. On reaching Chance Along he learned that the two swarthy strangers had already been there, and departed with two sealing-guns and a bag of food. The skipper sent Bill Brennen and six men on their tracks, for he did not want the strangers to carry out to the world the news of the wreck of the brig and the salving of the treasure-chests. He did not follow them himself because the chests had to be opened, and their contents divided and hidden away immediately, and the chests themselves destroyed.

The gold was divided into forty equal parts. One part was given, or laid aside, for every man who had been to the Squid Rocks; two parts went to each of the men who had accompanied the skipper to the brig itself, and four were kept by the skipper. There was no grumbling this time. The harvest was rich beyond the wildest dream and had been fairly shared.

The money belonging to the men who had gone after the two strangers was placed in the hands of sons, wives or fathers.

"Hide it away, men," said the skipper, "for if them two pirates gets clear away, they'll sure be back some day wid a crew o' blackguards like themselves, to try to t'ief all our property away from us."

Bill Brennen and his party returned before sun-down, carrying a wounded comrade and a dead Frenchman along with them. There had been an ambush and a fight, and one of the sailors had escaped clean away. The skipper was in a rage; but, as the faithful Bill Brennen had commanded the party and Nick Leary had been a member of it, he kept his hands and feet still and let nothing fly but curses.

Now we must look around for d.i.c.k Lynch, who did not go out of this history when he departed so boldly from Chance Along with his sealing-gun on his shoulder. Far from it. d.i.c.k was intended for greater things than he knew.

A week after the wreck of the French brig on the Squid Rocks, d.i.c.k Lynch entered a public-house situated near the eastern end of Water Street, St. John's, sat down at a table near the fire and called for rum. Though d.i.c.k consumed much rum, he did not often buy it at this establishment; for he roomed in Mother McKay's cottage on the hill, back of the city, and Mother McKay kept a shebeen. To-day, however, d.i.c.k had felt that he could stand no more of Mother McKay's liquor nor of the honest dame's society, either. The rum was weak and harsh and the society was distracting to his thoughts. What he wanted was matured liquor and quiet, so that he might nail down his somewhat vague plans of returning to Chance Along and overthrowing the skipper thereof. The hour was that of the evening dusk. He was alone in this particular room of the _s.h.i.+p Ahoy Hotel_, but he could hear the voices of other imbibers barking and rolling from an adjoining apartment. He gulped down half of his rum and lit his pipe. The proprietor entered then, threw a lump of coal on the fire and lit a s.h.i.+p's lantern that hung from the middle rafter. Next moment, the outer door opened, and a man entered from the muddy street, his sou'easter, oilskin coat and ruddy young face all agleam with moisture.

"Good evenin' to ye, Mister Darlin'," said the proprietor. "Foul weather, bain't it, sir?"

"Aye, Jake, foul weather it is," returned the young man, throwing aside his dripping hat. "Bring me whiskey,--hot, with a slice of lemon in it and a lump of sugar."

Jake departed, and Mr. Darling sat down beside the fire and pulled a short wooden pipe from an inner pocket. In repose, his young, clean-shaven face wore an expression of gravity that verged upon the dismal. He filled his pipe with cut tobacco from a leather bag, lit it and then glanced at d.i.c.k Lynch through a puff of twisting blue smoke.

He caught d.i.c.k's eyes full upon him, for that worthy had been staring at him ever since he had removed his dripping sou'easter. He removed his pipe from his mouth and leaned forward.

"Hullo!" he said. "I'll swear this isn't the first time I've seen that black mug of yours, my man! But it wasn't in St. John's--an' it wasn't aboard any s.h.i.+p."

d.i.c.k Lynch was of the same way of thinking, for he recognized this young man as the officer from the _Durham Castle_, who had commanded the party that had been left behind by Captain McTavish to guard the wreck of that good s.h.i.+p. He took another swig at his gla.s.s and s.h.i.+fted his eyes to the fire.

"Sure, sir, ye may be right," he said. "Was it in Harbor Grace ye seed me?"

"No. I have never set foot in Harbor Grace," returned Mr. Darling.

"That bes my home, sir--Harbor Grace," lied d.i.c.k, cheerfully.

Just then Jake entered with Mr. Darling's toddy. He set it at the young sailor's elbow, hoped it was entirely to his taste, and retired. Darling sipped the toddy, puffed twice at his pipe, then fixed his keen glance upon Lynch's face.

"Don't lie to me," he said. "Your mug is too ugly to forget easy! You are the big, cussing pirate the savages gave the name of skipper to, along on that devilish coast to the south where we lost the _Durham Castle_. You are a sly fellow, and a daring one; but it will not help you a mite to sit there and talk about your happy home in Harbor Grace to me."

"The skipper!" exclaimed d.i.c.k Lynch, in genuine anger and dismay.

"Saints presarve ye, I'd as soon be took for the divil himself as for Black Dennis Nolan o' Chance Along. No, sir, I bain't that tyrant, though some folks do say as how I bes about his size and color."

"Is that so?" enquired Mr. Darling, quietly. "You are not the skipper of Chance Along, but you look like him. Is that the way of it?"

"Aye, that bes the way of it, sir."

"You know this skipper fellow, then?"

"Aye, sir, to me cost--may the divil fly away wid him! Hasn't he bullied me an' cheated me all me life long, the divil-possessed tyrant! Bain't he the livin' curse o' Chance Along?"

"Chance Along, is it?" murmured Mr. Darling. "Now where the devil is Chance Along?"

Then, raising his voice, "You don't seem to love this skipper fellow--this Black Dennis Nolan. What is the trouble between the pair of you?"

d.i.c.k finished his rum, eyed the other suspiciously, then stared sullenly at the fire.

Mr. Darling smiled grimly and shouted for Jake.

"My friend will have more of the same," he said, pointing to Lynch's empty gla.s.s. "But make it hot, Jake. This is no kind of weather for cold liquor. Better bring the bottle right along, and the kettle and sugar too."

Twenty minutes later d.i.c.k Lynch began to talk again, his belated caution entirely vaporized and blown out of his somewhat inferior brain by the fumes of hot rum, lemon and sugar.

"I knows ye, sir," he said. "Sure, didn't I know ye the minute I clapped me two eyes on ye. Cap'n o' that big s.h.i.+p that come ash.o.r.e in Nolan's Cove, t'ree miles to the south o' Chance Along, ye be. An' a smart landin' ye made, too, boat by boat, wid every mother's son o' ye wid a gun an' a sword in his two hands. Sure, sir, ye wasn't lookin' for to meet wid no man-killin' wrakers on _that_ coast, was ye? Saints forgive ye, sir, the babe unborn would be safe to come ash.o.r.e in Chance Along!"

John Darling smiled. "You are a sharp lad," he said. "I saw it in your eyes that you knew me the moment I entered the room. I don't see how I ever came to mistake a smart, well-spoken lad like you for that fellow you call the skipper. Well, I am sorry for it. But you have made one mistake, my lad. I wasn't the captain of that s.h.i.+p. I was only one of the mates."

"Well, sir," returned Lynch, cordially, "I bain't sharp enough for to see much difference atween a cap'n an' a mate. Ye looks like a cap'n to me, anyhow."

He paused, poured more rum and hot water, sampled the brew and continued.

"Now I feels it a shame, sir, the way Black Dennis Nolan made a fool o'

the lot o' ye, wid his lies about Frenchman's Cove an' Nap Harbor. Sure, I felt desperate bad about it at the time--an' now I feels worse. Aye, sir, worse, seein' as how ye be sich a fine, grand ginerous young gintleman as ye be. An' then the way he ups an' takes all yer gold an'

fine jewels away from ye, an' ye t'inkin' all the time 'twas the folk o'

Nap Harbor done it!"

"Yes, it was certainly an unmannerly trick," said Darling, quietly. "I suppose he took it all to Chance Along--gold, jewels and everything--and kept it for himself?"

"He kep' more nor his share o' the sovereigns, ye kin lay to that, sir; an' as for the rings an' sich fancy trinkets--well, sir, he says as how we'll all be gettin' our share come June an' he gets 'round to St.

John's here to sell 'em. But there bain't no share for me, sir. I fit for me rights, I did--an' here I be!"

The interview continued for another hour, and during the glowing, rum-inspired course of it, d.i.c.k Lynch told all that he knew of Chance Along, its manners, its skipper and its exact location. He confessed that he had never seen a great diamond and ruby necklace, but that he had seen a whole casket full of jewels and was willing to swear by all the saints aloft that the casket was still in Chance Along. He did not notice that Mr. Darling was spending all his time over one small gla.s.s of whiskey toddy. Finding the young officer a good listener and an agreeable companion, he went on to tell of the wreck of the _Royal William_, of the panic in the flooded cabin, and at last of the beautiful young woman with the voice like fairy bells and eyes like a mermaid's eyes.

Mr. Darling sat up at that and laid his pipe on the table.

"A full-rigged s.h.i.+p, you say? What was her name?" he asked, anxiously.