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Mr. Beaver again started for the door, but the Captain reached it first. He closed it, turned the key in the lock, and put the key in his pocket.
“Now, suppose you spin the yarn to me that you’ve been spreading round town,” he said, slowly filling his pipe and offering the pouch to Harry Beaver.
Mr. Beaver spurned the weed of peace with a ferocious glare. With a little coaching the Captain brought out the story. The gist of the matter was that Mr. Beaver considered McGowan morally lax in the free way he was mixing with the boys at the Inn.
“Let’s get this straight. Who is the feller you’re talking about? Just repeat his name to me.”
“M-McGowan!” defiantly repeated Mr. Beaver.
“When mentioning him to me,”––requested the Captain in a tone that made the other man start with apprehension,––“you’ll call himMr.McGowan. Understand that?”
Mr. Beaver seemed fully to understand, for he obeyed. When he had finished his yarn of93sheer nonsense, Captain Pott slowly laid his pipe on the table and his hand on the little man’s collar. He led him to the door, and opened it. Harry tugged like a bull-pup on the end of a leash, so that when the Captain released his hold––with ever so slight a shove––Mr. Beaver described a spread-eagle on the cinder path.
“If you repeat that rotten truck to another soul, I ain’t going to be responsible for what happens to you!” He shot each word at the kicking figure from between set teeth, and brushed one hand over the other as though to clean them of filth.
Mrs. Beaver ran to her husband, lifted him out of the cinders, and patted the ashes from his clothing. Harry Beaver stood irresolutely for a moment, and violently shook his fist at the man standing in the door.
“Y-You’ll p-p-pay for this!” He spit out words and cinders with gasping breath.
Captain Pott went inside. He washed his breakfast dishes. He was by no means as calm as he appeared. The whole day through he fed the fires of his anger. That night he94urged the minister to stay at home. He even begged him not to go to the Inn. Mr. McGowan asked the reason for his deep concern. The Captain could give none, except to say that the microbes were working overtime. But duty called more loudly than his friend’s fears, and Mr. McGowan went that evening to the Inn. An hour later the Captain’s intuition got the upper hand of his judgment, and he followed.
95CHAPTER V
An ominous murmur of voices, with a deep growling undertone, floated up from the improvised gymnasium in the basement as Captain Pott entered the swinging doors of Willow-Tree Inn. This was followed by a more ominous silence. The seaman bounded down the steps. The sight that met his gaze caused him to stop short. On each side of the low room men and boys were drawn up in lines, and the division was as clean cut as though chosen for a tug of war. The doors at the far end of the gymnasium swung back, and a stranger, stripped to the waist, stepped gingerly into the room. Sim Hicks met the man, and began to tie a pair of boxing gloves to his hands. While the Captain looked on in utter amazement, the doors again swung back, and Mack McGowan entered. He did not appear surprised at sight of the crowd, as large audiences had become quite the common thing96during his boxing lessons. Hank Simpson came from out the shadows and reluctantly tied another pair of gloves to the hands of Mr. McGowan.
“What in tarnation is the meaning of this damn exhibition?” demanded the Captain, turning to Jud Johnson, the plumber.
“It means there’s dirty work on.”
“You mean there’s been a crooked deal put over on Mack?”
The plumber nodded.
“Who in hell–––”
“Swearing ain’t going to do no good, Cap’n. The parson don’t stand for it down here,” cut in Jud.
“Whose doing is this?”
“We’ve got a pretty good idea who the cur is, but we ain’t exactly sure.”
“Where’d he come from?”
“The city.”
“Who brung him in here?”
“We ain’t just sure of that, yet.”
“What in h––– What’s he cal’lating to do?”
“He figures to lick the tar out of the parson.97And by the blazes of the inferno, if he does–––”
It was plain that civil war was to ensue if the contest went against Mr. McGowan.
“How’d he git into such a scrape?”
“It looks like the work of that d––I wish the parson would let me swear for once––Sim Hicks.”
“You mean Hicks brought him in?”
“He come in here more’n a week ago and asked Mr. McGowan to give him some lessons. Now the devil’s to pay, and if we ain’t ’way off Hicks happens to be that devil.”
“How–––”
“For God’s sake stop asking me questions or I’ll cut loose and turn the air blue round here.”
“There ain’t a feller living that can fight Mack on a week of training,” declared the seaman.
“No one said he’d had no more’n a week of training.”
“I don’t give a tinker’s dam if he’s had all the training in creation, he can’t lick Mack McGowan and do it fair.”
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Jud shot the Captain a look of approval. “Them kind don’t fight fair.”
“But, Jud, I don’t see the meaning of it, anyway.”
“Then you’re a heap sight blinder’n I thought. This thing’s all fixed up to help Hicks get the parson out of town. When the news of this fight gets out into the church, they’ll oust him like a shot from a cannon.”
“Then why don’t you fellers stop it afore it starts?” blazed the Captain.
“Stop nothing. Hank’s tried it, already.”
Hank Simpson came across the room to where the Captain stood, looking woe-begone.
“The minister says our fears ain’t got no foundation about that feller being crooked, and he won’t listen to reason,” declared the dejected Hank.
“By the Almighty, he’ll listen to me!” exclaimed the Captain.
“He wouldn’t listen to his own mother if she was here. He says if what we suspect is true, he couldn’t show the white feather now. He’s the best sport I’ve ever seen, and I hate99to see him beat up by that white-livered slugger.”
“I sha’n’t see it!”
Captain Pott started toward the ring that was rapidly forming about the boxers. He caught the minister’s glance. He halted. In that glance there was an expression which the Captain had come to recognize and respect. Mack McGowan was going to take his medicine, or give it, and no one was to interfere during the dose. The seaman dropped back into the shadow of the stair.
The boxers faced each other. There was no doubt left in the minds of the onlookers as to the profession of the stranger as he squared off for action. The minister recognized, too, the trap that had been set for him, but he gave no evidence of worry. He met the malicious grin of the other with a friendly, but grim smile.
The stranger lost no time in preliminaries. He thought himself in full possession of the minister’s boxing ability, and he showed a great amount of over-confidence. He had studied the other’s speed, he had spied into his100style, he had tested his reach. Certainly, with all this knowledge, he should have a picnic. He had been very careful on all occasions to appear as nothing more than a novice. He was not unmindful of the other’s endurance, but hoping to make a quick end of the matter, he tried to force the minister under full headway at once. He went at him in a whirlwind rush. It seemed to the observers that Mr. McGowan must certainly be swept from the floor.
But the minister was not caught off his guard. He quickly guessed the other’s intention. With a swiftness that took the breath of the onlookers, he stepped aside, drew in his left toe under his right heel, and faced to the right. It was done in a flash! With one long step he swung out to the left of his adversary. Out of the range of terrific blows, he smiled and made a closer study of his opponent, eye and brain alert for information. It took but a moment, and he was facing the stranger before the man was ready to meet him.
The Captain had never seen his young friend box with greater ease, although the101odds were against him in weight. He warded off blow after blow with a precision that was maddening to the other. His foot-work was as quick as that of a cat, and as sure. Again and again the stranger would rush in with deadly intent, only to find himself blocked, or to back away severely punished.
A breathless suspense hushed all rooting. The minister had dropped his guard! Even the other boxer hesitated, as though he could not believe his own eyes. Mr. McGowan had thrown back his head and shoulders as though he had partially lost his foothold. The city boxer rushed in and swung for the other’s heart with all his weight behind the blow. When it was too late he saw his mistake. He had been led into a trap, and the very movement which had drawn the blow made it ineffective. With lightning-like swiftness the minister stepped forward, delivered three blows on his opponent’s head with bewildering rapidity, and recovered himself with ease and without exertion. The stranger recoiled, and for an instant appeared to be under the impulse to run. But blind rage seized him as102his unexpected punishment began to sting, and he came back like a madman. Mr. McGowan shoved aside or blocked the terrific shower of fists with a coolness and precision that drove the stranger momentarily insane. He bellowed like a mad bull. He began to slug with the force of a pile-driver without any pretense to fairness. He leaped from left to right, and back again, like an orangutan stirred to frenzied anger. Mr. McGowan tried to stop him by calling time, but with a foul oath he shot a stiff arm into the minister’s abdomen. Decidedly jarred, Mr. McGowan swayed back under the impact of the foul, but recovered his footing in time to meet the other with a blow full in the face. The stranger rushed in again, but Mr. McGowan ducked, landed his glove with a heavy jar on his adversary’s body, and cut the man’s lip with a right swing as he sprang to safety.
The sight and smell of his own blood sent the city pugilist into a crazed frenzy. He threw his elbow into the minister’s throat and hurled him against the wall. Holding him there as though in a vise he landed a wicked103hook under the left ear. Sim Hicks gave an immoderate laugh. A shout went up from the few who favored the stranger. A deep growl was the answer from Hank Simpson and his following as they sprang forward. They seized Mr. McGowan, tore him away from the maddened pugilist, and led him to a box. Hank steadied him while Jud Johnson massaged the bruised neck and bathed the bleeding ear. Sim Hicks crossed to where they were at work.
“Have you got enough?” he asked with a sneer.
“No! And by thunder, you ain’t got all that’s coming to you, neither,” growled Jud.
Mr. McGowan leaned heavily against Hank Simpson. As it was apparent that his mind was beginning to clear, Sim Hicks came closer.
“Are you ready to call quits and stop your damnedmeddlingin my affairs?” persisted the Innkeeper.
Mr. McGowan shook his head, slowly. Then, with a start, he straightened. Between the uprights of the stair-banister he had see104two faces peering down into the room. As his vision cleared a little more he saw that one face was set between silky chops.
Captain Pott had not taken his eyes from the minister’s face, but now he followed the direction of his startled gaze.
“If it ain’t that damned menagerie, Fox and Beaver!”
One of the two figures slipped up and out. The other, deeply engrossed, did not budge. The Captain gave a mirthless chuckle and quietly crept up the stair. He seized the heels of Mr. Beaver, dragged him bumping down the stair, and dropped him beneath one of the lights. He gripped the little man’s collar, glanced menacingly into the distorted face, and remarked:
“Paying off some of them infernal debts you spoke of?”
“L-Let m-m-me g-go! L-Looking’s f-f-free, ain’t it?” His thin voice rose with each word till it reached a hissing shriek.
“Yes, the show seems to be free. And if I’m any judge, it’s just begun, so you may as well come down for it all.”
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Sim Hicks was swearing so loudly that the seaman turned in that direction. The Innkeeper was shaking his fist in the minister’s face. Captain Pott dragged the squirming Beaver across the room.
“See here, Sim, you’d best shet that trap-door of yours, it’s letting out too much blue smoke, and the dominee don’t permit swearing among the boys. Cal’late I can give you some assistance if you’re needing it,” said the seaman, coming uncomfortably near. “As for that there slugger of yourn, he’s nothing but a white-livered cur of a coward.”
“You take back those words, or I’ll make you swallow them one at a time!”
The threat came from the city pugilist, and the Captain swung about to face him.
“This here is my friend you hurt,”––the seaman’s eyes flashed with fury as he jerked his thumb toward the minister,––“and I cal’late you’d best apologize for what you’ve done to him.”
“Why, you doddering old idiot! If you didn’t want your little pet hurt, you’d best106have kept him home. I understand he’s your special hobby.”
“You’d best apologize,” repeated the Captain in dangerous calm.
The pugilist laughed hoarsely. “When I do it will be in a hotter place than where we are to-night. I did nothing–––”
“Don’t lie to me! I see what you done. Either you fight like a man,––even if you ain’t one,––or by the lord Harry–––”
For emphasis he clutched the collar he still held, and Mr. Beaver squirmed as though in fear of being hurled bodily into the face of the city boxer. Sim Hicks sprang at the Captain’s throat with a fierce leap and an angry growl. But Sim picked himself up from a corner and rubbed the blood from his streaming nose. The sight of the cringing Innkeeper seemed to have a temporary effect upon the pugilist, but he quickly recovered and bristled defiantly.
“You damned city cur! If you don’t fight fair I’ll measure you out on the same spot!”
“You go to the devil!” said the man with a sneer.
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“When I do I’ll take a white-livered, yellow-haired cur along. You take that grin off your face and stand up to Mack like a man. I’ll act as pilot from now on, and if I sight any more of your dirty tricks, may the Lord have mercy on you, for I won’t. Pitch in!”
The two men obeyed and faced each other. Except for a slight tightening of the lips, Mr. McGowan gave no sign of having suffered from the severe punishment because of the other man’s foul. Those who had been standing about the box, now jostled the other faction out of the ring, and pressed closely about the Captain.
During the next fifteen minutes the boxers worked swiftly. Although the stranger had publicly defied the seaman’s orders to fight fair, yet it was apparent to all that he was obeying them. Only once did he attempt a foul. The Captain’s quick eyes saw, and with a thundering command that shook the room he checked the pugilist’s stiff arm movement to the throat. Then the end came. Mr. McGowan brought forward his head and shoulders with his usual lightning-like swiftness in108order to draw a lead before the other was prepared for it, and at the same time he accompanied the movement with a quick jerking back of his left hand as though suddenly changing his mind. The city man did the rest. He halted. Mr. McGowan stepped to the left just as the other delivered his spent blow, and with the added weight of his moving body landed his right glove against the stranger’s ear. This was quickly followed with a crashing upper-cut to the heavy jaw. There was a loud rending and ripping of splintered wood as the big man fell through one of the thin panels of the partition. He slid to the floor and lay motionless amidst the wreckage.
Sim Hicks bawled at him to get up and go on with the fight. Mr. Beaver squirmed and whined under the tightening grip like a beaten pup. The crowd stood dumb with amazement. Few of those present had ever witnessed the effect of a knock-out blow.
Mr. McGowan was the first to the side of the prostrate man. He lifted him to his feet, and began walking him about. As the stranger regained his senses, he smiled faintly109at Hicks’ repeated requests that the fight be finished.
“How long was I out?” asked the pugilist.
Sim caught the savage glare in the Captain’s eyes, and reluctantly admitted that it had been over a minute.
“But this ain’t no regular match!” he shouted.
The pugilist looked in the direction of the Captain as he drew away from the minister and steadied himself against an upright.
“I guess we’ll have to call it regular enough to go by rules,” declared the city boxer. “I’m beaten, Hicks.”
“I was sorry to do it, but there seemed no other way. There was too much at stake to run the risk of losing,” said the minister. “May I say, sir, that you are a good boxer?”
“Mr. McGowan,”––the stranger extended his hand with unaffected cordiality,––“it’s great of you to say that after what I tried to do to you. I refused to apologize when that old fellow tried to make me, but I do it now. I’m ashamed of the way I lost my head. If110you’ll accept my apology, I’ll accept your compliment.”
“Gladly!” exclaimed the minister.
Beneath the rough exterior of this savage fighter there was the spirit of the true sportsman. The two men removed their gloves and gripped bare hands in a warm grasp.
“The fact of the matter is, you had me outclassed at every turn. Any man who could do what you have done to-night, after I’d thought I’d spied on you long enough to secure the key to all your strong points, could make his fortune in the ring. I’m heartily ashamed that I made myself a party to this plot to put you out. What your old friend has said is true: I’m a cur and a white-livered coward to sneak in on you the way I did.”
“See here!” shouted Sim Hicks, abandoning all caution, “ain’t you going to finish this little job you’ve been paid for?”
“It is finished, but it wasn’t stipulated in the contract as to who was going to do the finishing.”
“You–––”
“Shet that trap of yours, Sim. If you111don’t it’s li’ble to get another catch,” threatened the Captain.
Hicks eyed the seaman, rubbed his swollen nose, and backed away.
Mr. Beaver did a corkscrew dance, and tried in vain to release the hold on his collar.
“Cap’n Pott!” exclaimed the surprised minister who noticed for the first time that the seaman was holding Mr. Beaver. “What on earth are you doing?”
“Well, this little shrimp was mighty interested in the boxing, and I thought he might as well come down for a few lessons that he wouldn’t forget right off. I cal’lated to give him a few myself.”
Mr. Beaver’s face was purple. His words would probably have been of the same hue had there been any possibility of releasing them.
“Let him go, Cap’n, you’re strangling him.”
“He’d otter be choked, if he’s as deep in this thing as I think he is. But he ain’t in no condition for a lesson to-night, he’s a mite too worked up. Harry, I’ll let you off, but if this here yarn gets out into the church through112you or through the rest of the menagerie, we’ll give you the little lesson I spoke about, and it will stick like glue to your anatomy. Now, you run along to Eadie, she’ll be missing you, and I’d hate to send you home mussed up.”
Mr. Beaver ran. With a dart he shot for the stair.
The members of the club escorted Mr. McGowan to the Captain’s home. As he said good night, Hank Simpson came forward.
“Mr. McGowan, the fellers want to know if you’ll be one of our members in regular standing.”
Mr. McGowan expressed his delight, and declared he would like nothing better.
“He’s ’lected, fellers!” shouted Hank.
A ringing cheer went up from the crowd. The Captain said to Elizabeth the next morning, when recounting what had taken place, “I was ’feared that Mack would be mad as hops the way them fellers carried on, but he wa’n’t, not a mite. He seemed tolerable pleased about it. When the fellers asked a lot of foolish questions as to what was the matter113with Mr. McGowan, and then answered them by saying that he was all right, Mack looked as happy as a school kid.”
Hank once more whispered to the minister. The answer was apparently satisfactory, for the boys gave a parting cheer, declaring that they would all be present in church the following Sunday.
114CHAPTER VI
The troublesome microbes, of which Captain Pott had so unmelodiously sung, had been driven out into the open, and were now doing a war-dance to a jazz tune. Into the domestic life of the Captain there wormed the most subtle microbe of all. Just what to do with it, or how to meet it, he did not know. But it continued to bob up at every meal time with a clamorous demand for attention.
One Monday evening the two men sat in the minister’s study, the clergyman wrapped in silence, and the Captain in a cloud of tobacco smoke. The seaman was the first to break through his cloud.
“Mack, I’m awful sorry to disturb your meditations, but if they ain’t a heap sight more entertaining than mine, I cal’late you won’t mind to give ’em up for a spell.”
“It wouldn’t be much of a sacrifice,115Cap’n,” acknowledged Mr. McGowan, laughing. “What is troubling you?”
“Well, it’s this,”––the Captain blew a cloud of smoke,––“this here’s slow navigating on land without a woman’s hand on the wheel. We need some one to set things to rights round here once in a while.”
Mr. McGowan had been lounging lazily before the open fire, but now rose and stretched himself.
“The idea is all right, but how can we put it into effect?”
“I ain’t just exactly sure.”
“You must have something to propose, else you wouldn’t have mentioned it.”
“There ain’t going to be no proposing, leastwise not by me.”
The minister smiled. “Afraid of the fair sex, Cap’n?”
“No. Just wise to ’em.”
“Why don’t you take the suggestion I made some time ago?”
“Meaning, which?”
“Have some one come in once a week to clean up.”
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“It needs something more than a cleaner round here. What we want is a cook. I cal’late we’d best ship a general housekeeper.”
“A housekeeper!” exclaimed Mr. McGowan, suddenly breaking off a wide yawn.
The skipper blew a cloud of smoke and watched it thin out into the air above his head.
“And you have just declared that you didn’t intend to propose. I’m afraid–––”
“I ain’t interested in your fears, young man. I’m too old a sea-dog for any of them new-fangled tricks. But being as you’re set on staying here I’ve decided that we’ll take a woman aboard to look after the mess and swab decks.”
The minister became serious. “Is that practical in our present position?”
“Practical in our present position? If it ain’t, then I’d like to know when in the name of all my ancestors such a thing is practical. Mack–––”
“I mean from the financial point of view. The boxing match seems to have hit the pocketbooks of the church members harder than the man from the city hit me. At least,117something has given them almost total paralysis.”
“Who’s asking you to consarn yourself with a woman’s keep? I ain’t, be I?”
“I hope you don’t think that I’d permit you to bring a housekeeper in here for me unless you give me the privilege of sharing in the expense.”
“Mack, this here place ain’t your house. Cal’late I’ll do about as I please on that p’int.”
“If I can’t stand the expense with part salary, you certainly can’t stand it with none,” persisted the minister.
“I ain’t sartin it would cost anything. Leastwise, it won’t cost much. I ain’t sartin,”––repeated the Captain as though in meditation,––“but I think she’ll come.”
“Who?”
“Don’t let your cur’osity get away with you, young feller. I ain’t promising nothing, but I’m just thinking, that’s all. How’d you like to cruise round the P’int to-morrow, Mack?”
“You have a delightful way of changing118the subject when it gets too hot. But I’d certainly like the cruise and the air.”
“I cal’late I ain’t changed no subject. We’ll go over Riverhead way. It’ll be sort of a vacation from all this mess, and give me a chance to see about this puzzling woman question.”
With this declaration, the Captain retreated into a silence which all of Mr. McGowan’s questions failed to penetrate. The old man was thinking of Clemmie Pipkin!
Clemmie had been the object of his boyhood ardor till the day when his dashing half-brother had kidnapped her affections. But no sooner had he won her from the Captain than he disappeared, leaving the faithful Miss Pipkin, never to return. She had remained unmarried all these years, in spite of the oft-repeated attempt on the part of Captain Pott to rekindle her love. He wondered now, as he sat before the dying fire, if her presence in his home would change her attitude toward him. This question wakened anew the desire of his youth, and after he had retired it kept sleep from his eyes through the long hours of119the night. He must have Clemmie Pipkin to take care of his house.
Daylight had barely kindled her fires over the eastern waters when the two men boarded theJennie P.Mr. McGowan noticed that the Captain took particular pains in cleaning and polishing the few brass trimmings. They both worked hard till the sun appeared, and then hastily ate a lunch which they had brought aboard with them. After finishing the sandwiches, the Captain went forward and dropped a measuring-stick into the gasoline tank.
“I’ll swan!” he ejaculated. “There ain’t a drop of ’ile in that there tank. And I left the cans ashore.”
“I’ll go for them.”
“No, you don’t, young feller! You stay right aboard here,” ordered the skipper. “You can be working on the engine, or something. I’ll get that ’ile myself.”
Surprised at the seaman’s earnestness, the minister obeyed. He was working over the engine, his hands covered with grease, when the dory scraped the side of the boat. He120came out of the cockpit, and, to his amazement, saw the Captain assisting two young ladies into theJennie P.Each carried a large basket. They were no less surprised than he.
“Why, Mr. McGowan!” exclaimed Elizabeth, the color flooding her already rosy cheeks.
“Captain Pott!” cried Miss Splinter.
Mr. McGowan said nothing. He folded his hands behind him and looked foolish.
“I thought maybe a little company might liven up the trip,” observed the seaman, looking like a schoolboy who had sprung a surprise on his teacher. “Ain’t you going to welcome ’em? You’ll find their name on the roster, and they brought their grub with ’em.”
“This is a very delightful surprise,” faintly declared the minister.
Elizabeth looked troubled, and her discomfort did not add to the minister’s ease. She had been anything but cordial since the incident at her home when Mr. Fox had taken ill. He had not seen her since the fight. He feared that the interpretation placed on that121by her father had not bettered his standing.
“I didn’t go to bed last night right off, Mack, when I said I was going,” explained the Captain. “I went out and fixed up this little party for a sort of surprise to all hands. I stowed that ’ile in the boat-house on purpose so as I could get ashore without too many questions.”
“I trust that our going will make no difference.”
The minister’s embarrassment had grown painful. With a hopeless gesture he brought out a pair of black grimy hands. “Indeed, it will make a difference, Miss Fox, all the difference in the world. If the Captain had kept his engine cleaner I’d have been able to give you a more hearty welcome.”
The sight of the greasy hands broke the tension, and although Mr. McGowan cordially extended them neither young lady offered hers in return.
The cruise was a great success, if we take the Captain’s word for it, which word was given to Mrs. Beaver on their return to Little122River. “Them young folks had the time of their lives, and I never see a more likely pair than that little Beth and the minister as they stood by the wheel together steering theJennie P.through them rollers. Beth takes to water just the same way she takes to everything, with her whole soul.”
It was noon when they cast anchor in the Riverhead Inlet. The men prepared to go ashore while the girls took out the lunches. As the baskets were opened, and bundles untied, Mr. McGowan suggested that they make for shore before their appetites demanded otherwise.
At the landing the men parted, for the Captain had expressed the desire to make his visit alone. He did not tell the minister that his destination was the County Farm for fear that he, Mr. McGowan, would not understand that Clemmie Pipkin was the matron, and not an inmate.
Captain Pott found Miss Pipkin without difficulty. During the past ten years, he had been a frequent visitor at the Farm, and many knew him. He went at once to the bare little123reception-room and made known his presence. As Miss Pipkin entered a slight tinge crept into the hollow of her sallow cheeks. She extended a bony hand.
“I’m real glad to see you, Josiah. It’s been a long time since you called.”
“Howdy, Clemmie. It has been a mite long, but I’ve been purty busy of late trying to keep people out of trouble.”
“Then you must have changed a lot.”
“You ain’t looking well,” he observed solicitously. “Ain’t sick, be you?”
“No,” she answered with a deep sigh. “That is, I ain’t real sick. I ain’t been feeling quite myself for a spell, but I reckon it will wear off.”
“You’ll wear off if you don’t get out of this place,” replied the Captain.
Miss Pipkin was far from being a beautiful woman. From all appearances she had never been pretty, or even good-looking. Her form had a few too many sharp angles where it should have been curved. Her face was long and thin, and now age and worry had dug deeply into the homely features, obliterating124the last trace of middle life. She always dressed in black, and to-day the Captain saw that her clothes were worn and faded. He moved uneasily as his quick eye took in the meaning of these signs.
“I cal’late they’re working you too hard here, Clemmie,” he said tenderly. “You’d best get away for a spell.”
“I’d like to have a rest, but I can’t leave. There’s no one to take my place.”
“Pshaw! There’s plenty who’d be glad for the place.”
“Anyhow, I ain’t got no place to go.”
“That’s what I’ve come to see you about, Clemmie.”
Miss Pipkin straightened with cold dignity, and her eyes flashed fires of warning.
“Josiah Pott! Be you proposing to meagain?”
“Now, don’t get mad, Clemmie. I ain’t proposing to you,” he explained as calmly as possible. “But as I’ve said afore–––”
“I know what you’ve said, learnt it like a book. And you know what I’ve said, too. My no meansNO.”
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“I cal’late you ain’t left no room for me to doubt that. You’ve made that purty tolerable plain. I reckon we’re getting too old for that now, anyway. Leastwise, I be,” he finished hurriedly, noting a rising color in her thin cheeks.
“Huh!” she grunted indignantly. “A body’d think you was the grandfather of Methuselah to hear you talk.”
“I am getting on purty well, Clemmie.”
“Josiah Pott! If you come over here to talk that nonsense you can go right back.”
“I really come on another matter. I want you to come over and keep house for me and another man. We’re living on the old place, and it ain’t what you’d call hum sweet hum for two males to live alone in a big house like mine. Thought maybe you wouldn’t mind keeping the decks swabbed and the galley full of pervisions if I’d only pay you the same as you’re getting here. I’d–––”
“That will be enough!”
“Thought maybe ’twould.”
“I’ll not listen to another word from you!” exclaimed the shocked Miss Pipkin. The expression126on her face gave the Captain the feeling that he had dived into icy water, and had come up suddenly against a hidden beam.
“Two of you! And you want me to do your work! Well, of all the nerve!”
“I ain’t told you yet who the other feller is,” suggested the Captain.
“I don’t care if he’s an angel from heaven. I’d think you’d be ashamed of yourself to come here and speak of such a thing.”
“But I ain’t ashamed, Clemmie. A drowning man is willing to grab the first straw he sees. Listen to me, Clemmie,” he pleaded, as she turned to leave the room.
“Me listen to you proposing for me to come over to Little River and start talk that would ruin the town? Not if I know what Clemmie Pipkin’s doing.”
“I tell you I ain’t proposing to you, I’m just asking you. As far as that town goes, a few things more for it to talk about can’t do her no harm.”
Miss Pipkin paused on the threshold to give a parting shot, but the Captain spoke first and spiked her guns.
127
“The other feller happens to be the new parson.”
Her expression changed. Preachers had long been her specialty at the Poor Farm, and she knew exactly the care and food they needed.
“What was that you said, Josiah?”
“The other feller living with me is the minister at the brick church.”
“The minister living with you!”
“Yes.”
“With you? But you ain’t got religion.”
“I cal’late that’s the safest guess you ever made, Clemmie, but just now it’s cooking, and not religion, that’s bothering me.”
“Lan’ sakes! You ain’t trying to cook for the minister, be you?” she asked incredulously.
“You put it just right, I’m trying to. I don’t know how long he’ll be able to stand it, but he won’t go nowhere else.”
“Poor thing!” she exclaimed. “Poor thing!”
“Them’s my sentiments, too, Clemmie.”
“And no doubt he’s a frail creature, too,128and ought to have the best of care. So many of them are that way.”
A violent fit of coughing seized the Captain.
“Lan’ sakes! Now, what’s the matter with you? Been going out without your rubbers, I’ll warrant. Men are worse than babies when left to themselves. I do believe they’d die if the women-folks didn’t look after them once in a while.”
“We sartin would,” choked out the Captain. “Do you suppose you can arrange it to come over?”
“When do you want me?”
“Right now. To-day. I come special for you.”
“I’ll go,” decided Miss Pipkin impulsively. “It’s plain as day that it’s my duty. I am getting wore out in this place. They’ve been putting the work of three on me, and I ain’t got the strength.”
“It ain’t right, Clemmie, for you to be wearing yourself out in this kind of work. God intended you for something better. I ain’t proposing,” he hastily added, lest his bird129take the sudden notion to wing her way back into the bush.
Miss Pipkin gave him a quick look, and left the room. She very soon returned carrying a bundle beneath one arm, and clutching a bulging telescope suit-case in the other hand. From one end of the bundle protruded the head of a cat.
“What in tarnation you got in there, Clemmie?” asked the seaman, pointing toward the bundle.
“You didn’t think I was going to leave my Tommy behind to be starved and abused, did you?”
“Hadn’t thought about that,” meekly admitted the Captain, as he took the telescope.
“Have you got a trunk to send over?”
“No.”
Miss Pipkin breathed a deep sigh of relief as they passed out of the gates. She looked back at the weather-beaten old buildings of the County Farm into which ten years of her life had gone. But she felt no pang on leaving.
The Captain kept up a constant stream of130conversation on the way down to the wharf. Suddenly, Miss Pipkin stopped, and suspiciously eyed the seaman.
“Josiah, how are we going back?”
“In myJennie P.”
“In your what?”
“In my power-boat, theJennie P.”
“Josiah Pott! You know I ain’t been aboard a boat for more than twenty year, and I ain’t going to start out on the thing, whatever-you-call-it!”
It appeared as if the Captain would have to come another day, in another sort of vehicle, to carry home his newly-found housekeeper. He again led trumps.
“The minister come all the way over with me to get you.”
“He did?”
“Sartin did.”
“Poor thing! He’s been treated so scandalously that he’s willing to do ’most anything. Well, it may be the death of me, but I’ve got this far, and I may as well go on.”
Mr. McGowan was waiting for them at the end of the wharf. The skipper introduced131them with a malicious wink at Miss Pipkin as he indicated the physical strength of the minister. Her face flushed as nearly crimson as it had in years. When they finally got into the dory she leaned close to the Captain and set his staid old heart palpitating. Mr. McGowan was engaged, waving to the girls in theJennie P.
“You ain’t going to tell him what I said about his being delicate, and the like, are you, Josiah?”
He answered with a vigorous shake of the head as he leaned back to draw the oars through the water. Each time he swung forward he looked into the eyes of Miss Pipkin. Did he imagine it, or did he see there something more than interest in her own question?
Aboard theJennie P.the young ladies took charge of Miss Pipkin, and soon they were chatting companionably. The girls had removed the door to the cabin, and laying it from seat to seat, had improvised a table. Over it they had spread cloths, and on the cloths were plates piled high with good things.132The odor of coffee greeted the Captain’s nostrils, as he came forward after securing the dory.
“Well, I’d like to know! Where in tarnation did you get the stove to b’ile the coffee on?” he asked, sniffing the air.
“We brought it with us,” replied Elizabeth.
“You fetched a stove in them baskets?”
“Certainly. Come and see it.”
She drew her old friend toward the cockpit. There stood the steaming coffee-pot over an alcohol flame.
“Well, I swan!”
Paper plates were scattered about over the improvised table, chicken piled high on some, sandwiches on others, doughnuts, cream-puffs, and apple tarts on still others. Indeed, not a thing had been left out, so far as the Captain could see.
“If this ain’t the likeliest meal I ever see, then, I’d like to know. I feel right now as if I could eat the whole enduring lot, I’m that hungry,” declared the skipper.
Elizabeth served, moving about as gracefully133as a fawn. Mr. McGowan watched her with no attempt to hide his admiration. The one question in his mind all day had been: what did she think of him for his part in the affair at the Inn? He decided that he would take advantage of the first opportunity to prove to her that no other course had been left open for him.
Dinner over, the Captain filled his pipe, and stood in the door of the cabin. He smoked quietly, and watched the ladies put the things away. Miss Pipkin was folding the cloths, and on her the seaman’s gaze came to a rest. Would the old home seem different with her in it?
“Hadn’t we better start?”
The Captain jumped. “I cal’late I’m getting nervous, jumping like that.”
“Or in love?”
“Maybe you’re right, Mack.”
“Honest confession?”
“I ain’t confessing nothing. I was referring to your idea that we’d best be under way,” explained the Captain, with a wry smile.