Chapter 13

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_ CHAPTER XIII

Daylight was beginning to peep through the morning darkness when the Captain threaded his way along the crooked path to the rear of his house. He drew off his boots outside the kitchen door, and tiptoed to his room. Without removing his clothing he threw himself on the bed. The sunlight was streaming through the eastern windows when he awoke. He stretched himself off the bed, and threw back the covers so that Miss Pipkin would think he had slept there the night through. He went down to the kitchen.

"Anything special to tell me this morning, Josiah?" whispered the housekeeper as he entered. "How pale you look! Ain't been seeing ghosts, have you? You look like one yourself."

"Maybe 'twas ghosts I see, but they looked purty tolerable real to me. Yes, Clemmie, I've sartin been looking on things what ain't good for a healthy man to see. One of 'em is that I'm a ruined man, and there ain't no help for it."

"Don't talk such nonsense! Get out and fill your lungs with fresh air. That cures the blues quicker than anything I know."

"It won't cure this fit. If it would, I'd had it cured long ago, 'cause that's all I've been doing for a good many weeks. If I'd talked less and done more I'd been a heap sight better off."

"I thought from the way you was staying up there last night that you was doing something. I never heerd you come in at all."

"Maybe I wa'n't up there all that time. The fact is, Clemmie, I went into the city last night."

"You went into New York last night? What did you do that for?"

"I went in and pulled a lawyer friend of mine out of bed for a little confab. I don't mind telling you who it was. It was Harold Fox.... Clemmie, that feller that was here to see me about that mortgage lied to me about the date it was due. Harold says the time is up on it next Saturday."

"Josiah!"

"I also talked with another friend of mine who knew Jim purty well in his palmy days, and he says what that letter of yours says is so. He told me a lot more stuff, too."

"What? About Jim or Adoniah?"

"Both. What would you do if there wa'n't no way to save my place excepting by ruination of the other feller?"

"You'd see him stop for you, wouldn't you? I'd not give it a second thought, I'd just----"

"That ain't it, Clemmie. There's his darter, the sweetest little thing that God ever made. It would kill her, and I ain't got no right to hurt her just to save my own skin."

"You're right, Josiah."

"But what I'm to do, I don't know."

Mr. McGowan entered with an armful of wood, and as he stooped to drop it into the box Miss Pipkin looked sorrowfully at the Captain and shook her head.

"I've done my best," said the seaman, slowly.

"You'd think he was making his last will and testament from the way he's talking," remarked Miss Pipkin, trying hard to appear as though she was without the least concern.

"Maybe I be, Clemmie. Maybe I be."

"What's the cause for all this dejection?" asked the minister.

"Cause enough, Mack.... I'll be going back to the city to-morrow. I hate to leave you to the wiles of the menagerie, for if I ain't terrible mistook they're out for your blood, and they think they've got a whiff of it. But I cal'late they've got their ropes crossed. They've got the idea they're h'isting the mains'l, but it ain't nothing but the spanker. If I was going to stay aboard I'd give 'em a few lessons the next few days that they'd not forget all the rest of their lives."

"You're certainly mixing your figures in great shape this morning," commented the minister good-naturedly.

"Well, if mixing figures is like mixing drinks, making 'em more elevating to the thoughts, I cal'late I'd best do a little more mixing. There's going to be a squall right soon that'll test the ribs of the old salvation ark to the cracking p'int. If I was you I'd furl my sails a mite, and stand by, Mack."

"We're so accustomed to trouble now that----"

"Trouble? This is going to be hell, that is, unless luck or Providence takes a hand and steers her through. Your Elder thinks he's on the home stretch to winning his laurels, but if I was going to hang round here he'd wake up right sudden one of these fine mornings to find his wreath missing."

"Josiah, you're as wicked as you can be this morning. What on earth has come over you?" exclaimed Miss Pipkin with deep concern.

"You'd feel wicked, too, if you was dealing with that kind. But that there Elder puts me in mind of a tramp printer that come to work for Adoniah one time. Adoniah was a brother of mine," he explained in answer to a quizzing look from the minister. "Adoniah was managing a country paper down the line then, and being short on help he took this tramp printer on. He gave him something to set up that the editor had writ,--you couldn't tell one of the letters of that editor from t'other, hardly,--and that feller had a time with it. The piece was about some chap that was running for office, and it closed up with something like this: 'Dennis, my boy, look well to your laurels.' When that tramp got through with it, it come back to the editor like this: 'Dammit, my boy, bark well at your barrels.'"

Mr. McGowan laughed heartily, and Miss Pipkin struggled against a like inclination, doing her best to appear shocked.

"Josiah Pott!" she said at last. "I'd think you'd be ashamed telling such things!"

"It ain't nothing more than what Adoniah told, and it happened just as I spun it. You used to think what Adoniah said was all right."

The minister sobered instantly.

"But it ain't right defaming the dead like that."

"I ain't defaming no one. Don't get mad, Clemmie. Adoniah told the yarn himself."

"Well, it ain't to his credit, and I ain't so sure he told it with that bad word in it."

"He sartin did. That's what makes it funny."

"If you wasn't so anxious to use them words you'd not be telling such stories, and, of all people, to the minister."

"He's heerd me say lots worse ones than that. I was telling it for illustration. You see, Jim has got the idea that he's looking to his laurels, and he ain't doing nothing but barking at his barrels, and empty ones at that."

"You'd best not try to illustrate if you can't use words decent enough to listen to," answered Miss Pipkin as she left the room.

Late that evening Mr. McGowan drew the Captain into his study. A cheery fire was crackling in the fire-back. The minister placed a chair before the grate and slid another near. For some time the two men sat looking into the fire. As Mr. McGowan tossed in another stick of wood, he turned toward the seaman.

"I did not know that you had a brother by the name of Adoniah," he said.

"It ain't often I make mention of him. I wa'n't over fond of him. He didn't treat Clemmie fair. Then, he wa'n't nothing but a half-brother."

"Don't tell me his last name was Phillips?"

"Sartin was.... What was that you said, Mack?"

"I didn't speak. I was just thinking."

"I'd a heap sight rather you'd speak out loud than grunt like that. What in tarnation is the matter with you?"

"If you can throw any light on this man Phillips, I wish you'd do it. I've heard his name mentioned twice, by two different people, with quite different effects."

"What do you mean by me throwing light on him?"

"Tell me about him, all you know, good and bad. What does Miss Pipkin know about him? Where is he?"

"Heave to, there, Mack! One at a time. I don't know if Clemmie has any idea where he is now. She was purty thick with him once, and heerd from him once or twice after he went off to sea."

"She was in love with him?"

"That's putting it purty tame. I cal'late--Say, has she been speaking to you about him?" asked the seaman eagerly.

The minister nodded. "I'm breaking a promise to her by talking with you about it, but----"

"Breaking a promise you made to Clemmie? How's that?"

"She made me promise to say nothing to you. But I must. This thing is getting too interesting for me to keep my hands off any longer."

"You mean she made you say that you'd not tell me that she was in love with Adoniah? That's funny, ain't it? Why, I knew----" He broke off abruptly, a new light coming into his tired eyes. He leaned forward and whispered hoarsely: "Mack, it ain't likely she's in love with--well,--with any other feller, is it?"

"She didn't----"

"With me, for example," broke in the seaman. "You don't think maybe that was the reason she made you give that promise, do you?" The Captain made no effort to hide his eagerness. "I don't mind telling you that I love Clemmie. I loved her long afore Adoniah come along and sp'iled it. He was smarter than me, and went to school. He was real bright and handsome. It wa'n't that Clemmie loved him, but she didn't know the difference. And I know right well he didn't love her. He had took a spite against me because I was left the home place, and he took it out on me by stealing my girl. You don't s'pose she sees now that he didn't really care----" He slowly settled back into his chair, and shook his head. "I cal'late that ain't possible. You heerd what she said about his sacred memory this morning. Good Lord! Why won't she ever forget!"

"She may some day, Cap'n. No man can predict to-day what a woman may do to-morrow."

"The most of 'em are that way, but Clemmie's different from the common run. I know I'm an old fool for wishing it, but it ain't easy to give up the woman you love, even after long years of her saying no to you."

"You're right, Cap'n. It isn't easy to give up the woman you love."

The minister gave the fire a vigorous poke, sending a thick shower of sparks up the chimney. The seaman glanced at him.

"Have you the slightest idea where your brother is?"

"No. I ain't heerd from him for more than twenty years, and then it wa'n't direct. He left because he was 'feared Clemmie was going to make him marry her, and he knew if he took to sailing the seas she'd never foller him. Damn him! He didn't treat her square. That's why I don't have much use for him. If he'd told her out and out that he wa'n't going to marry her, I'd forgive him. But----"

"Did Mr. Fox know this half-brother?"

"About as well as he knew the rest of us about town. He always was sort of h'ity-t'ity, Jim was."

"Did he know him better after they left Little River?"

"Mack, I ain't got your tack, yet. Mind telling me where you're heading?"

"You asked me once if anything out of the ordinary took place that night I dined at the Fox home. Do you remember?"

"Yes, I rec'lect I did ask you something like that. But----"

"You may also recall that you suggested that what happened to Mr. Fox took place in his head instead of in his heart."

"Yes, I said that, too. But, Mack----"

"Just wait, and I'll tell you what this is all about. I had mentioned to Harold that I was born in Australia----"

"Mack!" The Captain was out of his chair in one bound. "You born in Australia? Why in tarnation didn't you ever tell me that afore?"

The minister looked puzzled. "My announcement had a similar effect on the Elder."

"Go on, Mack. Don't mind me. I'm a mite narvous. All unstrung, I cal'late."

"As I said I had just mentioned that fact to Harold, and the conversation naturally turned back to the days of the early traders who went to that country. Harold then told his father that the law firm, of which he has recently been made a junior member, had put him on a case which necessitated his going over to Australia. It seems that they had been trying to clear it up for a long time. The case came from Sydney, and had been referred to him because he had once spent some time over there. It was when he mentioned the name of the client that Mr. Fox nearly fainted."

Mr. McGowan gave the fire another vigorous poke before continuing. The Captain slid to the edge of his chair, holding on to the sides.

"Do you know of all the movements of Mr. Fox after he left here?" came the disappointing question from near the fireplace.

"No, I don't. But you was speaking of the case from Sydney, Mack. Who was the feller whose name hit Jim so hard?"

"Was Mr. Fox a sailor?"

"Lordie!" ejaculated the Captain. "Jim Fox a sailor? Why, he couldn't sail a tub in a flooded cellar."

"You mean he never crossed the ocean as a trader?"

"He done that, I cal'late, but as far as him being a sailor----" He sniffed a contemptuous conclusion.

"How many years ago was it that he followed the seas?"

"I ain't able to say, exactly, but it wa'n't long after Adoniah left home."

"Cap'n Pott, Mr. Fox knew your half-brother after they had both left this country."

"How do you know that?"

"Just by putting two and two together."

The seaman took the yellow bit of paper from his pocket, and in his excitement crumpled it into a wad. "But Adoniah went to Australia, and Jim says he was in Africa," he said, testing out the other's fund of information.

"I know all about that story, but I don't believe one word of it. Mr. Fox did not make his money in Africa, and he knew your half-brother."

"What's all this got to do with that there client Harold spoke of the last night you ate up there?"

"Everything. The man he mentioned was a trader in Sydney. He had married an only daughter of an older trader, and then something happened. The younger man disappeared very suddenly. The old trader searched for years, but in vain. Recently, he died, leaving a large estate. His wife has taken up the search for the lost daughter. It was the name of the old trader's son-in-law that crumpled up Mr. Fox like an autumn leaf. The young trader's name was Adoniah Phillips."

Though he had been anticipating this, the Captain fell back into his chair and stared blankly at the minister. "But why did he act like the devil toward you, Mack? That's what I want to know."

"I don't know. That is the thing that puzzles me."

"What more do you know?"

"Harold said that Mr. Phillips came over to this country."

The Captain again sprang from his chair as though hurled out by a strong spring. Mr. McGowan rose to face him.

"My brother in America? Mack, it's a lie! He'd have looked me up!"

"Perhaps he had reasons for not wishing you to know about him. He may have been an outlaw."

The minister then asked abruptly, "What connection was there between him and Mr. Fox? That is the thing we must find out."

The Captain was trembling. "Have you seen Harold since he come back?"

"Not yet. But I intend to."

"No you don't! For God's sake, boy, don't do it!"

"But I must. I want to help you and Miss Pipkin. Then, for some unknown reason, I seem to be a part of all this mystery, and I intend to ferret it out."

"Mack, please don't!"

"Is it because you fear disgrace to your family name?"

"That's it!" shouted the seaman, seizing the minister by the arms with a crushing grip. "I'll tell you the hull miserable yarn some day, when I get to the bottom of it. But keep your hands off now! Them's orders!"

"And if I break them?"

"Then, by the Lord Harry, I'll break----" The Captain stopped abruptly. "Mack, what be you doing in Little River?"

Miss Pipkin had been disturbed by the noise, and now opened the study door. She looked alarmed. The swarthy face of the Captain was a sickly green where the white reflected through the deep tan.

"Of all things!" exclaimed the housekeeper. "I s'pose I should pity the two of you if you feel the way you look. But, for the lan' sakes, Josiah, let go the minister's arms this very minute. You're crushing them."

The Captain's hands relaxed and fell limply to his sides. The tense muscles of his face eased into a silly grin.

"We was having a friendly little argument, hey, Mack?"

The minister assented.

"Then, I'd hate to see you in a real fight. Things must be going to your head, Josiah."

"That's a fact, Clemmie, they be, but they're clearing it up."

"You need some of that liniment. Your worrying has put your stomach out. I'll fix up a dose for you."

"No you won't neither. It ain't liniment I want, it's something for the outside." He started for his hat and coat.

"Josiah! You're clean off in your head, going out a night like this! It's raining pitchforks, and is past ten o'clock."

"Don't you worry, Clemmie. I ain't crazy. I've just got back what little sense I was born with. I'm sailing my Jennie P. to the city. Good-bye." Before she could enter any protest, he stooped and kissed her.

Miss Pipkin stood as one paralyzed while the Captain snatched his rubber hat from the nail behind the kitchen door, and slipped into his slicker. He was out of the house before the coat was fastened about his neck.

"Now, ain't that a caution to saints! And us a-standing here and not trying to stop him. He's gone plumb off in his head!" lamented the housekeeper, dropping limply into a chair. "What ever shall I do, Mr. McGowan? I know he's coming down with that terrible fever again. I know it! I know it!" She wept bitterly. "There ain't been no one so kind to me, and that cares for me like him! And I ain't never give him any chance!"

"Do you really care for the Captain?"

She straightened, and dabbed her apron into the corners of her eyes, attempting at the same time to marshal a legion of denials. But the legion refused to be marshaled. She gave up, and admitted that she did care for Captain Josiah, very much.

"Then, he'll come back, have no fear. A twenty-mule team couldn't keep him away."

"What good will it be if he does come back, if he ain't got his senses?"

"In my opinion he was never more sane than he is to-night. He has not taken leave of his senses; he is not a man so easily dethroned. He has merely taken a leave of absence from town, and all his five senses have gone with him."

After Miss Pipkin had gone to her room somewhat comforted, Mr. McGowan spied the yellow piece of paper which the Captain had dropped. He stooped down, picked it up, smoothed the crumpled page, and began to read. His eyes widened with each additional line.

"Jim and I are going into partnership over here in Sydney. It isn't just what I'd like, but there are certain advantages. He is a keen fellow, and I'll have to watch him pretty close. There is an older man who has taken us into his firm, so Jim can't have his own way. There is loads of money here, and I mean to get my share of it.

"Jim and I are both fighting for the same girl. She is the daughter of the old man who heads up the firm. May the best man win, providing I'm the best man. I'll give him some run for his money, anyway. I think I'm on the inside track for the present.

"I guess you'd better not say anything about Jim being over here. He isn't using his own name, and says he wants it kept a dead secret. Just what his game is, I don't know. But there are lots just like him who are hiding behind assumed names.

"I'm too harum-scarum a sailor for a quiet home-loving woman like you, so just forget me. Be good to----"

Here the page ended, and the remainder of the letter was in Miss Pipkin's trunk.

Before he had finished reading, the chug-chug from the Captain's power-boat floated in from the harbor, and the minister longed to be with him. _

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