Chapter 7

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_ CHAPTER VII

"Lan' sakes!" exclaimed Miss Pipkin, who, fully recovered, was busily engaged in the kitchen on the following morning when the minister entered. "Now, what is the matter with you, Mr. McGowan?"

He was leaning on the back of a chair which he was sliding along the floor in front of him.

"I twisted my ankle last evening as I was leaving the boat."

"You did! And you never said one word! How did you do it?"

"I slipped just as I handed you over the side."

"It was my foolishness that made you do it. Josiah!" she called, as the Captain came down by the rear stair. "Get me a basin of water and the cayenne pepper, quick!"

The Captain obeyed with alacrity. Miss Pipkin soon had the ankle in the water, and the water was a fiery red in color.

"It'll take the swelling out," she affirmed.

"Ain't you got it a mite too hot with pepper, Clemmie?"

"No, I ain't. That's all you men know about such things."

"Well, I didn't know."

The swelling began to disappear according to the prophecy of the housekeeper, but the skin took on the color of the reddened water in the basin. An hour later Mr. McGowan was undecided which was the more undesirable, the pain from the sprain, or the blisters from the treatment.

"Cal'late I'll run down to the Jennie P.," announced the Captain after breakfast. "You can't navigate that far, can you, Mack?"

"Josiah Pott! What on earth do you mean? Of course he can't, and you know it. I don't see what you want to go traipsing down to that thing for, anyhow; it ain't going to get loose, though it'd be a good loss if it did."

"It ain't likely she'll get away, that's sartin sure, but I thought I'd do a little work on her. I ain't had much time afore now, with all my cooking and keeping house. The minister said my engine wa'n't clean."

"Well, if you ain't been cooking better than you've been keeping house, the wonder is you ain't both dead," she said, peering about the room.

Fearing further comment, the Captain hastily left the house. On reaching the wharf, he was surprised to see Elizabeth walking from the far end to meet him.

"Morning, Beth. Out purty early for your constitutional, ain't you?"

"Good morning, Uncle Josiah. I've been waiting for you an awful long time. Are you going out to the Jennie P.?"

"That's my calculation. Want to go along?"

"If I may."

"Of course you can. Did you leave something aboard last night?"

"No. I just came down here on purpose to see you. I felt certain you would be going out."

"You come down just to see me? What do you want to see an old feller like me for? Now, if it was----"

"You, old! Who's been telling you that?"

"Nobody, 'cepting this infernal rheumatism. But I ain't quite as badly crippled up this morning as the preacher is, at that."

"Do you mean to say that the minister has the rheumatism?"

"No, he ain't got nothing as tame or ordinary as that. He started with a sprained j'int from the cruise, but he's going to have something far worse, if I don't miss my guess. Clemmie's been soaking his ankle in red pepper." He chuckled quietly as he helped Elizabeth into the dory.

"Soaking his foot in red pepper?"

"Yes. Hot as fire, too, it was. I asked if she didn't have the water a mite too red, but she said it wa'n't, and I cal'late she'd otter know."

"Isn't she the quaintest little woman? I remember her when I was a child, but she didn't like me one bit because I spilled some hot water on her once. Is she going to stay with you?"

"She's going to keep house," replied the Captain, drawing the dory alongside his power-boat. "Well, here we be, Beth."

Elizabeth sprang lightly over the side. She led the way to the roof of the cabin, where she sat down. When the Captain had taken his place at her side, she looked up eagerly into his eyes.

"I do so hope you will understand me, Uncle Josiah!"

"I've always tried to, Beth."

"I know you have! Tell me, did my--did any one you know have anything to do with making up that boxing match the other night?"

"There was a good many that had to do with it, unless I'm 'way off in my reckoning."

"Has Mr. McGowan said anything about Father in connection with the affair?"

"He ain't said nothing to me," responded the Captain.

"Uncle Josiah!" exclaimed the girl, her eyes growing wide in her earnestness. "I know Father has not treated Mr. McGowan one bit nicely since what happened at our house, and I don't know why. There must be some reason, though, for Father would not harm any one without just reasons. He is the best man in the whole world! But he has had his way so long with all the other ministers that he cannot become accustomed to the way Mr. McGowan ignores him. Father does a lot of good, and Mr. McGowan dare not think ill of him!"

"There, there, Beth," soothed the Captain. "You're trying to tell me something, but you're getting off the course. Just you tell me calm-like what it's all about. The fust thing to do is to get our bearings. Has some one been telling you that Mr. McGowan thinks and talks about your dad in the way you say?"

"No-o. But I've heard others say that Father knew all about the plans for that fight before it happened, and that he could have stopped it had he wished to. It isn't true! And if Mr. McGowan even thinks it's true he isn't fair. He will misjudge Father if he has the least idea that he would stoop to such a frame-up."

"I cal'late he ain't misjudging your father none, Beth. So far as disobeying orders goes, it's because he knows what's best. He ain't likely to go contrary, unless----"

"But I know he does misjudge Father," broke in the girl in an attempt to return to her former subject. "And Father feels it keenly. If he doesn't misjudge him, why doesn't he come to our house any more to ask advice about parish matters? He just goes ahead to suit himself. Do you think that fair?"

Captain Pott wanted to say no, in order to agree with his young friend, but her big blue eyes were too intent with eagerness to permit of anything but the truth, or to hedge. He chose the easiest way and hedged.

"I ain't in no position to answer that, Beth."

"Oh, I can't understand it at all! Why can't they be friends as they were at first? What has happened?"

"I can't answer that, neither."

"It's just because Father has refused to bow to him in some little matter, I suppose. Isn't there some way to get them together or at least to get them to compromise?"

"I'm 'feared it ain't in neither of 'em to do either one."

"I suppose not," she replied, a little catch in her voice. "But it is too bad to have the work go to pieces like it is just because they are both so stubborn."

"It sartin is, Beth." The seaman fidgeted. What could the girl be driving at?

"But I'm in sympathy with my father!" she cried.

"That's right for you, Beth. I'd think less of you if you felt any other way."

"If only Mr. McGowan would go to him!"

"Let's see if I get the hull drift of your argument. You say that you think your father is right, and the minister is wrong. That being your conviction you think the minister otter go to him and do a little apologizing. Well, he won't. What he's done is just as right to him as what your father thinks he'd otter done is right to your dad. To try to get 'em together would be like trying to mix 'ile and water, both of 'em good enough in their place, but when you try to mix 'em what you get ain't one nor t'other, and sp'iles both. Cal'late we'd best leave 'em as they are."

"I didn't mean that Mr. McGowan should go to Father and apologize. That would be too much like all of the others before him. But I did think you might suggest some other way to bring them together before things get worse."

"Beth, I'd like to accommodate you, if that's what you're asking of me, but if Mack McGowan had chosen any other way than the one he took, I'd cut him adrift, sartin as death."

The seaman felt the girl at his side stiffen and tremble against his arm as she turned from him. Despair seized him.

"Forgive me, Beth, for making you cry like that. I ain't nothing but a rough old sailor, and can't say things as they'd otter be said. Come, it ain't wuth crying over. What I meant was that I'd have disowned him, because I'd have known he was going contrary-wise to what he thought was right."

She trembled more violently than before. Too miserable for words, he seized her and turned her about. He was amazed to find no tears in her eyes.

"I wasn't crying," she choked, drawing the corner of her handkerchief from her mouth. "It struck me so funny, Uncle Josiah!"

"Your notion of fun is the funniest I ever see," he commented. "Mind telling me what it was that tickled you so?"

"You! Captain Josiah Pott! Threatening to disown the minister should he fail to toe your chalk-line! Where, may I ask, can one find a more high-handed tyranny of spurned authority than that? It's too funny for words!"

"I cal'late you'd do some disowning, too, if he'd go traipsing round asking everybody's pardon just because he steps on a few toes now and again."

"I disown him?" she asked, not able to check the rush of color to her cheeks. "Pray tell! Why----"

"Now, see here, Beth, there ain't no use of your pretending to me. I've got a pair of eyes, and I make use of 'em. You wouldn't want him a mite different, and if he was, you'd be as disapp'inted as me. I know what I'm talking about," he declared, holding up his pipe with a convincing gesture. "All that he's done is as religious to him as preaching a sermon, even that fight down to the Inn. It was a heap sight more religious than a lot of sermons I've listened to in my day."

"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 ashore, 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 ashore."

The look of relief on her beautiful face, as the tears of gratitude 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 snatched 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."

"Don't be silly. You know what I mean. There is something awfully wrong. I can't help noticing it."

"What makes you think that, Clemmie?"

"What I heard this afternoon.... And, you know, the most of 'em knew me, but none excepting Mrs. Beaver knew where I was staying, and she didn't tell. She come over and set down by me, different from what she used to be, quiet and real refined."

"Eadie Beaver quiet, you say? Well, I cal'late the million is coming, sartin sure."

"Millennium or no millennium, that's the truth. I was kind of 'feared at first that she wasn't real well."

"She'd be a real cur'osity in this here new state of hers," mused the Captain.

"Well, I begun to hear things about him,"--she pointed toward the closed door,--"and Mrs. Beaver was that indignant that she didn't know what to do. From all I heard, it seems the minister has been doing things he has no right to do, fighting and the like. Then, too,"--came in an awed tone,--"he ain't orthodox. He's preaching all sorts of new-fangled ideas that he shouldn't mention in the pulpit, and though you don't know it, Josiah, that is hairsay! That is worse than killing a man, because it sends their souls to hell."

"If I was you, Clemmie, I'd wait and judge his preaching for myself. You ain't heard him yet."

Miss Pipkin agreed to the fairness of the Captain's proposition, but she was still troubled.

"Josiah, there's going to be some sort of meeting next Sunday night after the regular service, and there is going to be something done to get Mr. McGowan out of his church. Of course, if he ain't orthodox, I'd hate to see the meeting interfered with, but----"

"Clemmie, I ain't up on this hairsay and orthodox stuff, and I ain't sartin I want to be. It all sounds like mighty dry picking to me. But I've been thinking, and I've decided that whatever them things are they ain't real religion. And I've decided that the Lord ain't been sitting in on them church meetings for quite a spell. I cal'late I'll be on hand next Sunday night with a special invitation for Him to cut the pack for this new deal."

Miss Pipkin looked as though she expected him to be struck dead. But he was not. This fact decided her in favor of being present to witness the thing which the Captain intended to do. _

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