RED PAWL fell forward into Black Pawl’s lap. And the Captain’s arms went around his son and held him close; and the revolver fell upon the deck at one side. Close against his breast Black Pawl held the body of the son he had killed.
The muffled crack of the revolver had shattered the stillness that compassed the schooner. The men on deck cried out, they began to shout hysterically. Dan Darrin was out of his bunk at the sound, and racing for the companion, half dressed. He burst up on deck to behold Black Pawl with his dead son in his arms. He was at Black Pawl’s side in a single leap; and at first he did not see that the Captain was hurt. He cried:
“What is it, sir?”
Black Pawl looked up at him, and he smiled; and he said quietly:
“Dan Darrin, you’re master of theDeborah!”
Dan Darrin turned pale; he was tugging atRed’s body. Black Pawl said: “Let him be; let me have him till the end, Dan.”
“What’s happened?” Dan demanded hoarsely. “What’s happened, Cap’n Pawl?”
Black Pawl looked toward where the man Spiess still knelt stolidly at his task. He said with a slow effort upon every word: “Spiess knifed me, Dan. At Red’s bidding, I’ve no doubt. But don’t log that, Dan, my boy. Spiess knifed me. And—I’ve killed my son. I shot Red Pawl. So you’ll take the ship, and take her safely home.”
Dan stared; and Black Pawl added huskily: “Take—Ruth, too, Dan Darrin. She loves you; and she’s worth your love. My Ruth!”
“Let me fix you up, sir,” Dan Darrin begged. “You’ll be all right.”
Black Pawl shook his head. “I’m near gone, Dan. Let me rest till the end.” And then his eyes, looking over Dan’s head, lighted proudly. The missionary, roused by the shot as Dan had been, was coming now. Black Pawl smiled at him.
“Eh, Father!” he said wearily. “There wasan atonement! The bitter cup! And—I’ve drunk deep, Father. I’ve killed my son.”
The old missionary had the gift of understanding; and a part of what had passed, he understood. But—he looked to Dan Darrin with a question in his eyes, and Dan said swiftly:
“Spiess knifed the Captain. And he knew it was Red Pawl’s doing; so he shot the mate.”
Black Pawl shook his head. “No, Father. Not because my death was his doing. Not for that I killed him. You will—understand.”
“Yes, Black Pawl,” said the missionary. “Yes, I understand.”
“I loved him, Father.”
“I know.”
“I’d no anger because he killed—me. That was due me. I’d no anger for that.”
“I know,” said the man of the church again.
“But—he would be master of the ship, Father. Black as he was, black as I made him, he would have been master of theDeborah. And that could not be.”
The missionary laid his hand on Black Pawl’s shoulder. “Let us take him away,” he said. “Let us tend you.”
Black Pawl’s arms tightened around his son. “No, Father. I’ll keep him—till the end.”
“You’re not dying,” Dan Darrin cried. Black Pawl smiled, and looked toward the missionary.
“Tell him,” he said; and the man of the church nodded.
“Yes, he is dying, Dan,” he said.
Black Pawl asked wistfully: “And what will God say to this, Father?”
“No harsh words, Black Pawl.”
“You’re sure? Sure?”
“Very sure.”
“I killed him in love, Father.”
“I know.”
Black Pawl was silent, with closed eyes for a little; and then he asked gently: “Think you, I’ve a right to see my girl again?”
The missionary said swiftly. “Dan, bring Ruth—swiftly.”
Dan, on his feet to go, echoed Black Pawl’s words with an amazed question in his voice. “His girl?” he asked.
“His daughter,” the man of the church told him. The missionary stayed by Black Pawl’s side, and Black Pawl, eyelids drooping, held hisdead son closer in his arms. He heard Ruth’s step, and looked up as she bent above him.
“Eh, sweet!” he said wistfully. “Put your hand on my head. Your fingers in my hair. Your mother—used to do so.”
Black Pawl looked long at her; then his eyes closed again, and through the shut lids tears seeped, and ran down his cheeks, and dropped on the head of his son, held close against his breast. Ruth spoke to him; but he seemed not to hear her. For a little time he did not stir; but when they sought to lift Red Pawl away, his arms tightened their hold.
At the last, his eyes opened once more, and looked down upon his son. And he whispered huskily, for the breath was strangling in his lungs:
“Eh, Dan—my son! I fathered you in—love; but I bred you in hate—and rancor—and cruelty. And—I’ve killed you—at the last. But I always—loved you—little Dan.... My little—boy—”
His head fell gently forward until it rested on the head of his son. He did not move again.
THE third day afterward theDeborahsailed away from her island anchorage. Her rigging was shipshape again; her sticks were spliced and splinted and strong for any gale. The wide seas lay ahead of them, with home at the end of the blue leagues stretching from their bow. And Dan Darrin was master, on the quarter-deck, with old Flexer as his mate.
Spiess was below, ironed, oppressed by a stupor that was like death itself. Life was done, for him, as truly as for those two, Black Pawl, and Red Pawl, his son. He wasted in his irons; he had no stomach for food; and in the second month of their slow homeward way, he died.
Before they left the island, that which remained of Black Pawl and his son they had borne ashore; and they left father and son together there, within sound of the waves upon the beach. Above them whispered eternally the strong, swift winds they both had loved.
Ruth was not unhappy in that parting; for she felt in her heart that all was forever well with them, with Black Pawl, and with his son. She could not find a reason for this faith that dwelt in her; but when she spoke of it to the old missionary, he nodded; and he said:
“I feel that too, Ruth. It is as though by Black Pawl’s hand they were both redeemed.”
She was happy with Dan, too. Since the day when they both had been wakened by the shot, they had not spoken of that which lay between them. But—it was in their eyes for each to see. He knew, and she knew; and in their long silences together they communed.
Dan would not speak. A reticence was upon him; he was afraid of breaking in upon her thoughts of Black Pawl. He was afraid there was no room for him in her overflowing heart until the memories had somewhat passed; and he was content to wait. There was a slow strength in him; he would be ready when she turned to him.
But—Ruth did not wish to wait. And she considered the matter, with a smile twisting the corners of her mouth; she considered it for aday, and a day, and a day; and at last she laughed softly, and nodded, as if she had made up her mind.
On the evening of the seventh day, the missionary was reading at the table in the cabin. Dan sat across from him, and Ruth was at Dan’s side. Dan was writing up the log; she watched him, and smiled fondly when his big hand tightened clumsily upon the pen. At last she got up and went lightly to the companion and ascended to the deck. Dan marked her going, looked after her, and bent again to his task.
After a little, old Flexer came down from the deck and stood uncertainly at the foot of the companion. Dan looked across at him and asked:
“What’s up, Mr. Flexer?”
“I don’t rightly know,” Flexer said, and he took off his cap and scratched his head. “Miss Ruth tell’t me to come down. She looked like as if there was something in her mind.”
“Ruth? What for?”
“I don’t rightly know,” said Flexer again; and then he heard a step behind him and moved awkwardly aside as Marvin, the cook, came downwith Ruth upon his heels. Ruth stopped at the foot of the companion and looked at Dan, and at the missionary. Marvin and old Flexer stood together, uncertain and uneasy.
Dan and the missionary got up. They could not take their eyes from Ruth. There was a glory in her countenance. And while they stood, she crossed to Dan’s side and looked up at him.
Dan could not speak; but the old missionary asked: “What is it, Ruth? What is in your mind?”
She took Dan’s hand, and with him faced the man of the church. And she said softly, her face a lovely flame:
“This, Father. This is in my mind. If Dan—”
She could not finish, but there was no need. The missionary smiled. He stepped a little forward and so presently began to speak the old enduring words. Overhead the swinging oil lamp guttered. Flexer and Marvin watched from the shadows. And once Ruth saw Flexer standing there; and for a moment thought she saw Black Pawl himself, watching with happy eyes, with someone well beloved at his side....Then the vision dimmed, and she was answering the Father, while beneath their feet the schooner swung and lifted gently with the seas. And the sea lay fair and fine before the schooner’s bows—like the years that waited for their coming.
THE END