H. Bedford-Jones

“ Off to the north the islands showed their mountain-tips against the sky, blue and continuous as some distant mainland. Talking with the mates and boat-steerers and Kanakas, Tom Dennis was entertained with many stories of those islands: how fox- and seal-farmers were scattered through the group; how small launches cruised the entire length of the island chain with impunity; how in time to come there would be a thriving island population where now were empty stretches of land or scattered communities of miserable natives. ”

“ Ericksen lifted to his shoulder the shotgun with which he had armed himself, and two smashing reports blasted into the fog as he fired both barrels. A shrill clamour of voices made answer, followed by instantaneous and blanket-like silence. Then came a single sullen plunge, as of some heavy object striking the water.
"Ah!" remarked Pontifex, staring into into the fog as though he could see through it. "Very good, Bo's'n—you reached 'em. They've anchored, and they'll lie doggo until the fog lifts. They know we'll waste no bullets if we can't see them."
"Reached them?" repeated Dennis. ”

“ He came up against the rounded bulge of the stern-rail. It was the end. He could go no farther.
"That ends it!" he thought despairingly. "The tide hasn't ebbed enough."
He fell forward, unable to lift the weight of that copper helmet, for the oppression was crushing him down. He could not make out what that frightful weight could be, nor did he care. He reached up with his knife, as he lay there, and determined to end things swiftly. He refused to be longer tortured.
With a swift, reckless motion he ripped asunder the breast of his diving-suit. ”

“ Every newspaper man dreams of running, some day, a paper all his own, dreams of taking over some "small-town" paper, dreams of running it his own way and indulging his own ideas of how a paper should be run, dreams of wealth and fame in consequence. Once in a thousand cases, perhaps, the dream comes true.
Tom Dennis was at the end of his own particular dream. A college man, a star reporter on a Chicago daily, he had saved his money, and, at twenty-three, had become the owner of The Clarion in the sleepy little town of Marshville. ”

“ In the security of her hired room, with the immobile Miles Hathaway watching them from his chair, Florence sought the gaze of Tom Dennis. To him it seemed that her eye held a glowing probe of fire, searching his very soul.
"Remember, Tom dear, that I mustn't lose you. You're my one sure strong anchor in the world; your love and you are necessary to me," she said steadily. "So are you sure? Are you sure that the best plan would not be to stop here ashore and have Pontifex placed under restraint—here and now? ”

“ Look at her stern. See the water a-drip? She's well covered at high tide: just now the tide's out. No wonder she broke!"
"Looks as if we'd anchor right close to her fore-hatch," said the Missus.
Ericksen, with a whaleboat and hand-line, was engaged in taking soundings of the position. Suddenly a savage exclamation escaped Pontifex who had been scrutinizing the visible stern of the wreck through a pair of binoculars.
"Take charge, Mr. Leman," snapped the skipper, then lifted his voice. "Corny! Lower away—four hands will be enough to row us in. Come on, Mr. Dennis!" ”

“ Pontifex looked venomous. "Fight, by the lord Harry! This is salvage. Whoever can hold hardest, gets. Let me get the old brig anchored in here, and I'd like to see any dirty yellow poachers pry my fingers loose!"
Dennis remembered the big gun-rack in the cabin, and said no more. Rifles can be used for other purposes than killing seals and bears.
"We'll be all snug by breakfast-time," added Pontifex, watching the Pelican come slowly in as her top canvas fluttered down. "Then we'll set to work pronto. We don't want a gale to catch us here, either. More likely to catch fog, anyway." ”

“ Behind, somewhere in the tossing sea crests, was the black dot of a man's head. Before the boat was half-way to it, the head had vanished. The man was gone.
"Be a little more careful with those men, Mr. Mendez," said Pontifex, watching the whaleboat put about and return. "We'll need 'em."
That was all. No anger, no inquiry, no more concern over the death of a man—the needless brutal murder of a man—than if that man had been a wandering sea-gull. Tom Dennis drew Florence below, hoping that she had not understood. ”

“ She, of whom all others aboard the Pelican were in dread, stood in fear of the skipper.
Captain Pontifex passed into the saloon at the stern, where the helpless Miles Hathaway sat in his chair beside the screwed-down cot that served him as a bunk. Despite the hardness and the harshness and the terror of the Missus' life, she was after all a woman; the cabin ports were curtained with flowered chintz, the big gun-rack and the little bookcase were also curtained; in the corner near the stern ports was a heavy tea-jar lashed to the deck, in which blossomed a huge scarlet geranium plant. ”

“ We'll try it to-morrow——"
Florence leaned forward, colour glowing in her pale face, her eyes dilated by swift excitement and resolution, yet dominated by their strangely poised radiance. All her spirit shone in her eyes—all her heritage of soul, her heritage of iron nature, tempered and alloyed and refined to an almost dangerous degree by her womanhood. Tom Dennis gazed into her eyes and wondered, as he had wondered on that memorable afternoon when she had said: "We'll only win by daring; so we shall dare everything!" ”

“ Promptly at one o'clock on Monday, Boatswain Joe was waiting in the lobby of the Royton restaurant, when Tom Dennis and Florence were deposited by the elevator. With a cheerful grin on his freckled features, Ericksen approached them.
"Good day to you. 'Two bells,' says you, and two bells it is, all shipshape! It's fine and rosy ye look, ma'am!"
"Thank you, Mr. Ericksen." And under his light-blue predatory eyes the girl blushed as she shook hands. "I've been shopping this morning, and that always makes a woman happy, you know!" ”

“ The steward tumbled backward off the rail and plumped down on the deck. A faint howl of terror escaped him as he stared up at the grotesque, horribly-shaped figure whose bulk was intensified by the fog. The figure stood over him, and a rifle poked him in the ribs.
"'Ave mercy!" howled the terrified steward. "I'm a poor, innercent man——"
"Oh, it's you! Didn't know you, steward," said the voice of Dennis. "Where's everybody? Get up, old boy—I'll not hurt you!" ”

“ The Pelican, all reconnaissance over, lay snugly ensconced between the two sections of the John Simpson. The off watch went below, curiosity appeased by the barnacled unromantic packing-cases; and Captain Pontifex fell to hard work, going down again almost at once.
Dennis took charge of the after pumps, while the Missus herself took the wheel of those in the waist. The Kanakas, only prevented from diving naked by the depth and the icy coldness of the water, were eager to try the diving-suits. As each man went down in turn, he carried four lines, making them fast to as many cases. ”

“ The brigantine-rigged Pelican was of but a hundred and fifty tons burden; yet her royal yard stood athwart the sky nearly ninety feet above the deck. She was not a pretty ship, despite her snowy cleanliness, but she was tall enough; in her 'midships stood the brick try-works, with two funnels, where blubber was rendered into oil; and she reeked of the whale-juice that had soaked her stout oaken timbers these forty years.
As she lay at anchor in Vancouver harbour, well up toward the second narrows, there were several peculiar features about her—peculiar, that is, to the trained seaman's eye. ”

“ She drew forth some photographs—and her face went white.
"Look here, Ericksen!" Dennis leaned forward, his eyes gripping the gaze of the sailor. "There are some things we don't understand. Why did you come in person to find Miss Hathaway? Who's your skipper, and why is he taking care of Captain Hathaway? Why are you spending so much money on the project?"
The arrogant, light-blue eyes flashed suddenly—a flash of suspicion, of anger.
"Sailormen don't count pennies," said the man curtly. "Besides, the skipper—Cap'n Pontifex—he used to know Cap'n Hathaway. Friends, they were." ”

“ For another three months, Florence Hathaway had stayed on with the Clarion—largely for love of Tom Dennis. Then had come the offer of a teacher's position in a private school in Chicago, and she had accepted the offer.
Not that Dennis wanted her to accept—far from it! They had argued it all out that night, under the willow trees by the river. Her hand in his, the girl had made Tom Dennis face a few hard facts. She was the rare kind who can make a man realize things.
"Tom, dear," she had said gently, "another year will see you firmly established here in Marshville. ”

“ She was heavily wrapped in fur robes, but Dennis saw her face sharply and distinctly—her pale eager features, her brown eyes fastened upon the whaler, her fur-gloved hand upon the tiller of the boat. With a wild yell of delight Tom Dennis leaped up, waving his arms, and he saw Florence wave back response.
"It's my wife, steward—hurrah!" Dennis ran forward to aid the Cockney. "She must have come all the way from Unalaska in that boat! Here, get your line ready by the diver's ladder in the waist; it'll be an easy climb there. ”

“ The deep-set, cavernous eyes of Captain Pontifex sought the impassively watching face of Miles Hathaway—sought it with a satiric gleam in their dark depths. Then they returned to the girl.
"Duty is duty," he said unctuously. "We've tried to do what's right, madam. The consciousness of having done right is a great stay in time of trouble. We——"
The words were cut short by an appalling scream which seemed to wail out of the air overhead, At that scream a silence like death fell upon the cabin.
Corny furtively crossed himself. Mr. Leman's flat ugly face turned quite white. ”

“ Listen here, Florence," he said suddenly. "Pontifex found your father, and either took him to a house, where those snapshots were made, or to this ship—no matter which. Face facts, now! All this goody-goody talk is bluff. Pontifex was busy trying to extort the secret of the Simpson's position from your father, so he sent Boatswain Joe to get you; and he sent that clever little assassin, Frenchy, to get this phonograph that's in my grip—why, we don't know. ”

“ No further reference was made to the affair, beyond the skipper's explaining, later, that an unavoidable lurch of the ship had caused the accident. But it was long before Florence could look upon Manuel Mendez, when he joined them at mess, without changing countenance. There was something dreadful in the grinning calm of the black Portuguese. His eternal good humour was ominous.
"We mustn't let little outside matters affect us," said Tom Dennis that same night. "The main point, Florence, so far as we're concerned, is your father, and the way Pontifex and his company are acting." ”

“ Did the port watch go below? Not yet! Breakfast was a formality, a hurriedly bolted affair; ten minutes later one of the four white seamen was set ashore as lookout, and the Skipper fell to work.
"You'll mind the pumps my watch, my dear," said Pontifex to the Missus. "When I'm down, I'll trust nobody else to watch my air supply. Do you want to go down, Mr. Dennis?" ”

“ I should say not!" exclaimed Pontifex. "Mr. Leman will do any fighting that's necessary while I'm down; and the Missus will see to it that nothing fouls our lines. But send someone else if you don't like the idea."
"Oh, it suits me," answered Dennis, knocking out his pipe. "I dare say there's no great risk, but it would feel sweet if the ship left us prowling on the bottom, eh?"
Pontifex grunted and went forward, being swallowed up in the fog that cloaked everything.
Having learned from Corny that the bottom was pretty dark, but by no means unsuited to working, Dennis called the steward. ”

“ The paralytic Captain Hathaway would be in some ways a burden, but one which Tom Dennis cheerfully assumed.
"With faith in the future and in each other, we would have been fools not to marry!" he confided to his suitcase. "We'll pull through; and we'll make a tenfold better fight for having each other! ”

“ Are you better, dear?"
"Oh, I'm all right—able to walk, anyhow. Forward, and solve the mystery!"
Together they left their cabin and went aft.
In company with Miles Hathaway and the tall scarlet geranium in the green-striped jar, they found five people sitting around the table. At the head was Captain Pontifex, at the foot the Missus. On one side sat Mr. Leman, pawing his fringe of whiskers. At the other sat Ericksen, a satanic twist to his freckled mouth as he eyed Captain Hathaway, and at his side the black boat-steerer, Corny. ”

“ Ericksen met her gaze, and seemed a trifle embarrassed.
"Yes'm, oncet or twicet. I been whalin' with Cap'n Pontifex, you know, all us whalers work off Lower California and across to the islands 'fore going north—that is, we used to. Nowadays things change. 'There's no tellin' at all,' says the Skipper, 'what kind of a wind is rising these days.' And Skipper's right."
"You seem to like your skipper." Florence laughed. "Is he a nice man?"
Ericksen's down-drawn left lip twitched as if in repression of a grimace.
"Nice is as nice does, hey? I reckon he's all right, Miss Hathaway." ”

“ Darker grew the water underfoot as the light from above was diffused to the greater depths. Dennis had gone down from the quarter-deck of the Pelican; this, according to the soundings, would bring him to the sea-floor at the after end of the front half of the wreck. He could thus see whether the contents of the Simpson's main-hold, aft of which she had broken in two, lay piled upon the sea-floor between the two sections of the wreck. If so, the work of salvage would be greatly hastened. Pontifex, in the meantime, was exploring the bows and fore hatch of the wreck. ”