"Mr. Hyslop has an object for trusting the chairman that we have not got. We won't grumble about his staunchness, but we are entitled to weigh his arguments, which are not altogether sound. He owns the situation is awkward and the outlook dark, but he urges us to trust the officers who got the ship in danger. One feels this is not remarkably logical. Then he declares nobody else could have kept the fleet running. I think the claim is rash. In this city we are conservative and names long known in business circles carry an exaggerated weight; we expect a man to work wonders because his father started a prosperous line, and another because he long since made a lucky plunge. Men like these are often satisfied with former triumphs while times and methods change. We want fresh thought and modern methods. It's obvious the old have brought us near the rocks!"
Cartwright saw the shareholders were moved and the time for him to speak had come. He got up and fronted a doubting and antagonistic audience. His face was inscrutable, but he looked dignified.
"We have heard angry criticism and hints about slackness," he began. "Some of you have suggested rejecting the report, a committee of inquiry, and new members for the Board, but no substantive motion has been put. Well, before this is done, I claim your patience for a few minutes. If you are not satisfied, I and your directors are jointly accountable. We stand together; if you get rid of one, you get rid of all. This is a drastic but risky cure—"
He paused and one or two of the gentlemen at the table looked surprised. It was plain they felt the chairman had gone farther than he ought. The red-faced man, however, smiled as if he approved and Cartwright resumed:
"Times are bad, the markets are flat, and goods are not moved about the world. I venture to state no steamship company is free from embarrassments. You can, no doubt, find men with business talent equal to ours and give them control; but you cannot give them the knowledge, gained by long experience, one needs to grapple with the particular difficulties the Cartwright line must meet. The personal touch is needed; your manager must be known by the company's friends, and its antagonists, who would not hesitate to snatch our trade from a stranger. They know me and the others, and are cautious about attacking us. In all that's important, until times get better,I am the company—"
Cartwright stopped and drank some water. He saw he had struck the right note and began again:
"I will not labor the argument; the thing is obvious! If I go, the line will stop running before the new men learn their job. Well, I'm old and tired, but it would hurt to see the house-flag hauled down; it was carried by famous oak clippers in my grandfather's time. You hesitate to risk your money? I risk mine and much that money cannot buy; the honor of a house whose ships have sailed from Liverpool for a hundred years!"
The shareholders were moved and one heard murmurs of sympathy. Boldness paid, and Cartwright saw he was recovering his shaken power, but it was not all good acting. To some extent, he was sincere. He got his breath and resumed:
"I don't urge you with a selfish object to let me keep my post; I'd be relieved to let it go. Counted in money, the reward for my labor is not large. I want to save the Cartwright line, to pilot it into port, and, if there is no rash meddling, I believe I can. But I warn you the thing is in no other's power. Well, I have finished. You must choose whether your directors go or not."
There was an awkward silence, and then somebody asked: "Will the chairman state if he has a plan for meeting a situation he admits is difficult?"
Cartwright smiled rather grimly. "I will not make a public statement that might be useful to our antagonists! So long as I am chairman, you must trust me. My proposition is, give us six months, and then, if things are no better, we will welcome a committee of inquiry. In the meantime, a motion is before the meeting—"
"It is proposed and seconded that the directors' report and balance sheet be accepted," Gavin remarked.
The resolution was carried, the directors were reelected, and the meeting broke up. Cartwright sat down rather limply and wiped his face.
"I pulled it off, but they pushed me hard," he said. "At one time, it looked as if our defenses would go down."
"You have put off the reckoning; I think that's all," one of the directors remarked.
"We have six months," said Cartwright. "This is something. If they call a meeting then, I imagine I can meet them."
He signed to Gavin, who helped him with his big coat, and went off to the underground restaurant, where he presently fell asleep in a chair by the fire.
Barbara stopped at the top of James Street and looked down hill to the river. The afternoon was dark and the pavement wet. Thin fog drifted about the tall offices, lights shone in the windows, and she heard steamers' whistles. Down the street, a white plume of steam, streaking the dark-colored fog, marked the tunnel station, and Barbara glanced at a neighboring clock.
She could get a train in a few minutes, but she would be forced to wait at a station on the Cheshire side, and there was not another train for some time. She had bought the things she needed and did not know what to do. One could pass half an hour at a café; but Mrs. Cartwright did not like her to go to a café; alone and Barbara frowned impatiently. Her mother was horribly conventional and Barbara missed the freedom she had enjoyed in Canada. In fact, it was very dull at home; Grace's correct serenity and cold disapproval made one savage; Mortimer's very proper friends were tiresome.
Barbara was restless and dissatisfied. She wanted to play an active part and feel she was alive. Moreover, since she came home she had felt she was being watched, and, so to speak, protected from herself. Her relations had forgiven her Canadian escapade, but they meant to guard against her doing something of the kind again. Perhaps from their point of view, they were justified, but Barbara was not tempted to make a fresh experiment. She had not yet got over the shock; she saw how near her romantic trustfulness had brought her to disaster and thought her faith in men and women had gone. This was perhaps the worst, because she was generous and had frankly trusted people she liked.
Now she imagined the gloomy day had re-acted on her spirits. She was moody and longed for something that would banish the dreariness. Starting down hill for the station, she stopped abruptly a few moments afterwards. Lister was crossing the street, and if she went on they would meet. It was some time since she had seen him and she noted with surprise that he wore a rather soiled blue uniform. His cap, which had a badge in front, was greasy, and he carried an oilskin coat.
He walked quickly, looking straight in front, with his head well up, and Barbara got a hint of purposeful activity. Barbara liked him much, but she had, as a rule, quietly baffled his efforts to know her better. She waited, rather hoping he would pass, until he looked round and advanced to meet her.
"I'm lucky!" he remarked, and his satisfaction was comforting. "It's long since I have seen you."
"You know our house," Barbara rejoined.
"Oh, well," he said with a twinkle, "when I last came, you talked to me for about two minutes and then left me to play billiards with your brother. He was polite, but in Canada we play pool and my game's not very good. I imagined he was bored."
"Mortimer is like that," said Barbara. "But why are you wearing the steamship badge and sailor's clothes?"
Lister laughed. "They're engineer's clothes. I go to sea; that's another reason I didn't come over."
"Ah," said Barbara. "Did my step-father get you a post on board ship?"
"He did not. He told me to look him up at the office, but I didn't go. One would sooner not bother one's friends."
"Canadians are an independent lot," Barbara remarked. "In this country, we use our friends for all they are worth, and we're justified so long as they want to help. If Cartwright said he would help, he meant to do so. But what ship are you on board?"
"Ardrigh, cross-channel cattle boat. She's unloading Irish steers, sheep and pigs not far off. Will you come and see her? I don't suppose you've been on board a Noah's ark before."
Barbara did not hesitate. She doubted if Mrs. Cartwright would approve and knew Grace would not, but this was not important. Grace disapproved all she did and the stolen excursion would break the monotony. Then Lister's twinkling smile appealed, and somehow her reserve vanished when she was out of doors with him.
"I'd like to go," she said.
"Then, come along," he urged, and they started for the elevated railway at the bottom of the street.
While the electric cars rolled along the docks Barbara's moodiness went. She could not see much in the fog. Wet warehouse roofs, masts and funnels, and half-seen hulls floating on dull water, loomed up and vanished. Inside the car, lights glimmered on polished wood; the rattling and shaking were somehow cheerful. Barbara felt braced and alert. Lister talked and she laughed. She could not hear all he said, because of the noise, and thought he did not hear her, but she did not mind. She liked his cheerfulness and frank satisfaction. The gloom outside and the blurred lights in the fog gave the excursion a touch of romantic adventure.
They got down at a station by a muddy dock-road. Ponderous lorries with giant horses rolled out of the gloom between stacks of goods; wet cattle were entangled in the press of traffic, and Barbara was relieved when Lister pushed back a sliding door. Then she stopped for a moment, half daunted by the noise and bustle, and looked about.
Big lights hung from the room of the long shed, but did not pierce the gloom that lurked between the piles of cargo. A flock of sheep, moving in a dense woolly mass, came down a gangway; squealing pigs occupied a bay across the piles of goods. The front of the shed was open and in places one saw a faint reflection that looked like water. Opposite Barbara, the gap between the low roof and dock-sill was filled by a deckhouse and a steamer's funnel. Steam blew across the opening farther on, and in the vapor bales and boxes shot up and rattling chains plunged down. Through the roar of the winches she heard coarse shouts and the bellowing of cattle.
Lister took her to a slanting plank that spanned a dark gulf and she saw dim water and then the hollow of a steamer's hold. Men who looked like ghosts moved in the gloom and indistinct cattle came up a railed plank. Barbara could not see where they came from; they plunged out of the dark, their horns glimmering in the beam of the lamps.
After a few moments Lister helped her down on the steamer's bridge-deck. The boat listed away from the wall. Her tall red funnel was inclined sharply, much of her side was above water, and muddy streams poured from the scuppers on the after deck, where men with long boots pulled a hose-pipe about. The boat was horribly dirty, but her lean bows and the length of the iron engine-room casing indicated speed.
A man came along the bridge-deck, and Barbara thought the gold bands on his cap indicated the captain. He stopped and when he glanced at Lister she blushed, for there was a hint of sympathetic understanding in her smile.
"We won't want you until high-water," he said and went off.
Barbara hoped Lister had not seen her blush and thought he had not. He took her down some iron steps and to a door in a dark passage.
"Our mess-room," he said. "I expect it's the quietest spot on board the ship."
He pushed the door open and stopped. The small room was bright with electric light and a young man and woman sat opposite each other at the table. The man's uniform was stained by oil; the girl was pretty and fashionably dressed, but Barbara knew her clothes were cheap. She stood at the door, hesitating, and the man gave Lister a smile like the captain's.
"I didn't expect you yet, but come in," he said. "The tea's not cold, and Mike has made some doughnuts."
"Mr. Robertson, my chief," Lister said to Barbara, and the man presented Lister to his companion, and put a machine in a box on the floor. "Now there's room; I was pulling out the indicator diagrams," he added. "Won't you take off your coat, Miss Hyslop, and try Mike's doughnuts?"
The little room was hot, and when Barbara hung up her furs she noted the other girl's appraising glance. Miss Grant poured some black tea from a big cracked pot and pushed across a tin of condensed milk and a plate of greasy buns. When Barbara picked one up and looked at it doubtfully Robertson opened a drawer.
"We pull ours in two, but I expect you'd like a knife," he said.
He found a knife, which he rubbed on the table-cloth. "I used the thing on the indicator, the contraption in the box, but I think it's clean enough."
Barbara ate her doughnut and drank the bitter tea. Miss Grant looked friendly and she liked the engineer. They were frank, human people, and she thought them kind. Robertson began to talk about carpets, gas-stoves and pans, and Miss Grant told Barbara what the articles cost. They had been buying furniture and Robertson stated they were to be married soon.
"I reckon you haven't got so far yet," he said to Lister, and when Barbara saw Miss Grant touch him she blushed. It was ridiculous, but the blood came to her skin, and then, noting Lister's embarrassment, she began to laugh.
"Jimwilltalk like that!" Miss Grant remarked.
"Oh, well," said Robertson, "I expect it's rather soon. Mr. Lister hasn't joined us long, and you don't begin at the top." He turned to Barbara with an encouraging smile. "All the same, he knows his job and has got one move up. Perhaps if he sticks to it, for a year or two—"
Miss Grant stopped him and asked Barbara's views about curtains. She had some patterns, and while they contrasted the material and the prices the door opened and a greasy, red-haired fellow gave the group a benevolent grin.
"Was thim doughnuts all right?" he inquired.
"I've had better, but you've made some worse, Mike," Robertson replied.
"Yez saidtea for two. If ye'd told me it was a party, I'd have been afther stealing the captain's Cork butter. A cook cannot do his best whin the shore-steward sends him engine-grease. Annyhow, whin ye're young an' romantic, what's it mather what ye ate?"
He went off and Robertson began to talk aboutArdrigh. He was naïvely proud of the boat and his engines, and narrated hard runs in bad weather to land the livestock in time for important markets. Sometimes the hollow channel-seas that buried the plunging forecastle filled the decks and icy cataracts came down the stokehold gratings. Sometimes the cattle pens broke and mangled bullocks rolled about in the water and wreckage.
Robertson had a talent for narrative and Barbara felt something of the terror and lure of the sea. She liked theArdrigh'srather grimy crew, their cheerfulness and rude good-humor. They did useful things, big things now and then; they were strong, warm-blooded fellows, not polished loafers like Mortimer's friends. Then she approved Miss Grant's frank pride in her lover. There was something primitive about these people. They were, so to speak, human, and not ashamed of their humanity. Lister was somehow like them; she wondered whether this had attracted her. Perhaps she was attracted, but the attraction must not be indulged.
By and by Miss Grant resumed her talk about curtains, and when they had agreed about the material that ought to wear best Barbara looked at her watch. Miss Grant gave her her hand and Robertson declared she must come back when the boat was in port again. Lister took her down the gangway and was quiet until they reached the station. Then he smiled apologetically.
"You played up well. I didn't know Robertson was on board, but he's a very good sort. So's the girl, I think."
Barbara laughed. "I didn't play up; I liked the people. The excursion was delightful; I've enjoyed it all."
Lister saw she was sincere and thrilled. He had begun to think he ought not to have suggested the adventure, but he was not sorry now; Barbara was not bothered by ridiculous conventions. She talked gayly while the cars rolled along beside the warehouse walls, but when they got down at the station she stopped in the middle of a sentence. Cartwright had alighted from the next car and was a yard or two in front. Lister knew his fur coat and rather dragging walk. If he and Barbara went on, they would confront Cartwright when he turned to go down the steps.
Barbara gave him a twinkling glance and remarked that he knitted his brows but did not hesitate. In the few moments since her step-father left the train she had seen three or four plans for avoiding him. Lister obviously had not, and on the whole she approved his honesty. He advanced and touched Cartwright.
"I didn't know you were on board our train, sir."
Cartwright looked at him rather hard and Barbara waited. Although she had been caught enjoying a stolen excursion, she was not afraid of her step-father, but she was curious.
"I was in front," said Cartwright dryly. "Barbara has picked a rather dreary day for a run to the north docks. I understood she was going to the shops."
"Miss Hyslop met me near the station and I persuaded her to come and see my ship."
"Then you have got a ship?" said Cartwright. "If you are not on duty, come to the office in the morning and tell me about the boat. In the meantime, I'll put Barbara on the tunnel train."
He went off with the girl, but Barbara turned her head and Lister saw her smile.
In the morning Lister went to Cartwright's office. To some extent, he was embarrassed, because he had begun to see that Barbara's relations might not approve her going on board his ship and he imagined Cartwright meant to talk about this. When he came in Cartwright gave him a nod and indicated a chair.
"I understand you did not arrange for Barbara to meet you and go to the dock?" he said.
"No, sir. I didn't expect to meet Miss Hyslop. I was talking about the boat and thought Miss Hyslop might like to see her."
Cartwright turned and the electric light touched his face. He looked thoughtful, but somehow Lister imagined he was not thinking about his step-daughter.
"Oh, well!" he said, as if the matter were not important, and went on: "I might have got you a post had you looked me up. What boat are you on board?"
"Ardrigh. Perhaps you know her?"
"Yes. Belfast model; long bow and fine lines aft. Don't know if I approve the type. Give you speed, at the cost of carrying power, but makes a wet ship in a head sea."
"She is wet," Lister agreed with a smile. "Last run we couldn't keep the water out of the stokehold. Had to cover and batten gratings, and then a boat fetched adrift and smashed the engine skylights."
"What's your rating?" Cartwright asked.
Lister told him and he remarked: "You have made some progress!"
"I was lucky. She burst some boiler tubes in my watch. We were steaming hard, head to an ugly sea, with a lot of cattle on board, and were forced to keep her going. Two firemen were scalded, but I was able to put the patent-stoppers in the tubes. I used a trick I'd learned on a Canadian lake boat; rather risky, but it worked. Afterwards the company moved me up."
Cartwright was not surprised. He knew men and saw the young fellow was all he had thought. All the same, it might be worth while to get some particulars about the accident from theArdrigh'sowners.
"You won't go far in the cross-channel trade. Why did you not try for a berth with an Atlantic line!"
"There was some trouble about your Board of Trade rules and I might have been required to prove my qualifications for an English certificate. While I was inquiring I heard an engineer was wanted on boardArdrigh. The regulations don't apply to coasting voyages."
"You might have got your certificate. Would it not have been worth while?"
Lister hesitated. His main object for joining theArdrighwas that she sailed from Liverpool and he wanted to see Barbara now and then. As a rule, he was frank, but he did not think it prudent to enlighten Cartwright.
"I don't know," he said. "You see, I may go back to the railroad soon."
He wondered whether Cartwright did see and thought he had remarked his hesitation; the old fellow was very keen. Cartwright's look, however, was inscrutable and for a few moments he said nothing. Then he picked up some papers on his desk.
"Look me up now and then when you're in port. I might have a job for you, but I don't know yet," he said, and added in a meaning voice: "If you want to see my family, Mrs. Cartwright will receive you at her house."
Lister colored and got up. "I'll remember, sir! Perhaps I oughtn't to have persuaded Miss Hyslop—I didn't stop to think—"
When he went off Cartwright smiled, but soon afterwards he put his cigar-case in his pocket and told Gavin he was going out. He thought he knew where to find the cattle boat's shore-engineer, and when he did so the waitress gave them a table at which they would not be disturbed. In half an hour Cartwright had found out all he wanted to know, and returning to his office, he smoked and mused.
Lister had not exaggerated; his pluck and coolness had keptArdrigh'sengines going when to stop might have meant the loss of the livestock on board. Well, Cartwright had known the fellow was good stuff and he might soon want a man like that. Somebody staunch and resolute who knew his job! He had beaten his antagonists at the shareholders' meeting, but doubted if he could do so again. In fact, he had only put off the reckoning for six months, in which he must make good, and he knitted his brows while he studiedTitania'spicture. He thought about her sister ship, wrecked and abandoned on the African coast.
Arcturuswas a useful boat and cheap to run. Although times were bad, Cartwright could run her and earn some profit. He had known the company that bought her was getting near the rocks, but they had insured her heavily and there was something strange about the wreck. Cartwright understood the underwriters had hesitated before they paid. He, himself, would not have paid; he had a notion—.
An effort had been made to floatArcturus, but the salvors did not know all Cartwright thought he knew. If his supposition were correct, the wreck might be worth buying and one could, no doubt, buy her very cheap. The boat had for some time lain half-buried in shifting sands at the mouth of an African river.
The underwriters would be lucky if they sold her for old iron.
Cartwright weighed the cost of floating. If he employed a regular salvage company, this would be high, because they would bargain for a large part of the value recovered; his plan was to do the job himself, with cheaper appliances than theirs. The trouble was, he could not go out and superintend. He was too old, and one ought to be an engineer; Cartwright had grounds for imagining the job was rather an engineer's than a sailor's. Well, he knew a young fellow who would not be daunted and would work for him honestly, but to get the proper man was not all.
He pondered about the money. Somehow he might get the necessary sum, but if the venture failed, it would be the last. Nobody would trust him again; he would be forced into retirement and dependence on his wife. It was a risk he hesitated to run and he resolved to wait.
In the evening after dinner Barbara joined him in the drawing-room, and Cartwright waited with some amusement, for he thought he knew what she wanted.
"Did Mr. Lister come to the office?" she asked presently.
"He did come. Did you think he would not?"
"Oh, no!" said Barbara, smiling, "I knew he would come. Mr. Lister is like that!"
"I suppose you mean he's honest?"
"I think I mean he's scrupulous. When you crossed the station platform in front of us he got a jolt."
"Then, you did not get a jolt?"
"Not at all," said Barbara. "To keep behind and meet you after I'd sent Lister off would not have bothered me. However, I was curious, although I think I knew the line he'd take. You see, for an unsophisticated young man, the situation was awkward."
"If he felt it awkward, it indicated he knew he ought not to have taken you on board his boat."
"You're horribly logical," Barbara rejoined with a twinkle. "When we started he didn't know I ought not to have gone. Mr. Lister is not like you; he's very obvious. Of course, I did know, but I went!"
"I wonder why!" said Cartwright dryly.
"Sometimes you're keen, but you didn't remark, I meant to give you a lead. Well, I didn't go altogether because I wanted to enjoy Mr. Lister's society. To see a cattle boat was something fresh and I was dull."
"Then, when did Lister see a light? Since he stopped me, it's plain he'd got some illumination."
"I think it was when the engineer and the girl Robertson is going to marry began to talk about house furnishings in theArdrigh'smess-room. They took it for granted Lister was my lover and he was horribly embarrassed. The thing really was humorous."
"Folks have hinted I'm getting a back-number," Cartwright remarked. "To talk to a modern girl makes me feel I am out-of-date."
"Grace is not modern and to talk to her makes you tired," Barbara rejoined. "But I'll tell you about the tea-party in the mess-room if you like."
"Then you got tea in the cattle boat's mess-room?"
"Of course," said Barbara. "Black tea and condensed milk, and a ruffian with red hair whom they called Mike had made some doughnuts with lard like engine-grease. For all that, they were very nice people, and if you don't interrupt, I'll tell you—"
She told him about the party and Cartwright chuckled. He pictured her in the dirty mess-room, looking exotic in her fashionable clothes and expensive furs, but no doubt quite serene. She said the other girl was pretty, but Cartwright admitted that Barbara was beautiful. He rather sympathized with Lister's embarrassment, and wondered whether Barbara meant to throw some light on the young man's character.
When she stopped, he asked: "Did they talk about some burst boiler tubes?"
"No," said Barbara. "We talked about gas-stoves and kitchen pans." Then she gave Cartwright a keen glance. "But what are boiler tubes? Do they sometimes burst?"
"They carry the flame from the furnace through the water. If you're much interested, Gavin will show you a plan of a ship's boiler when you come to the office. In the meantime, have you found out all you want to know?"
"You really are keen!" Barbara rejoined.
"I was a little curious about what you said to Mr. Lister."
"Ah," said Cartwright, "I imagined something like this. I told him if he wanted to see my family, he must come to the house."
Barbara looked thoughtful. "This was all? Was it worth while to tell him to come to the office? To order him, in fact?"
"It was all that's important. I think it was important and expect you to agree."
"Well, you have carried out your duty and ought to be satisfied," said Barbara, who got up and gave Cartwright a smiling glance. "All the same, if you want a man for an awkward job, I think you can trust Mr. Lister!"
She went off and Cartwright laughed. Barbara was clever. The strange thing was, she had been cheated by a theatrical rogue, but clever girls were sometimes like that. He imagined she liked Lister, but this was perhaps all, since she had been frank. In one sense, Lister was the man for Barbara; he was honest, sober, and resolute, and she needed firm control. The girl was as wild as a hawk, and although she was marked by a fine fastidiousness, would revolt from a narrow-minded prig. Lister was not a prig; his blood was red.
In another sense, perhaps, the thing was ridiculous. Barbara was rich and ought to make a good marriage, but good marriages sometimes brought unhappiness.
Human nature was stubborn; one paid for forcing it to obey the rules of worldly prudence. Then Barbara had a romantic vein. She would risk all for her lover and not grumble if she were forced to pay for her staunchness. Besides, she and Lister had qualities he had not. They were marked by something ascetic, or perhaps he meant Spartan, and if it were worth while, could go without much that he required.
Cartwright admitted that indulgence had cost him dear. He had paid with grim philosophy, but he did not want Barbara to pay. Although she was not his daughter, he loved the girl, and her recent moodiness bothered him. If she did not love Lister, why was she disturbed? Sometimes Cartwright thought he saw a gleam of light. Suppose she did love the fellow and was trying to keep him off because of her Canadian adventure? Lister knew about that and Barbara was proud.
Cartwright's eyes got bloodshot and he clenched his fist. He would very much like to meet Shillito. His muscles were getting slack, but he had not lost all his power; anyhow, he could talk. Well, the thing was humiliating, but he must not get savage. When he let himself go he suffered for it afterwards. Getting up, he threw away his cigar, and went off to talk to his wife.
After weighing for some weeks all he could learn about the wreck on the African coast, Cartwright went to London and was carried up one morning to the second floor of an imposing office block. Black marble columns supported the molded roof of the long passage, the wide stairs were guarded by polished mahogany and shining brass, and a screen of artistic iron work enclosed the elevator shaft. Cartwright's fur coat and gloves and varnished boots harmonized with the surroundings; he looked rich and important, but as he went along the corridor his face was stern. He was going to make a plunge that would mend or break his fortune. Unless he got straight in the next six months, he must retire from the Board and make the best bargain possible with his creditors.
He opened a door, and giving a clerk his card, was shown into a handsome private office. Mr. Morse at a writing-table indicated a chair, and when Cartwright sat down, rested his chin in his hand.
"We have considered your letters, and my partner, Mr. Bull, agrees that, if we can come to terms, your suggestion has some advantages," he said.
"The advantages for your clients are obvious," Cartwright remarked.
The other smiled. "They paid out a good sum whenArcturuswas wrecked, and would frankly like to get something back. Well, we understand you are willing to buy her,as she lies."
"At my price! I'll give you a check when the agreement's signed."
"Then, I expect you have made some calculations and know all about the efforts to float the wreck. If we sell her to you, the job is yours, but I admit some curiosity. Why do you expect to float her when the salvage company failed?"
"For one thing, they started the job on extravagant lines," Cartwright replied. "They sent out two first-class tugs and a number of highly-paid men; they ought to have hired negro laborers at the spot. The surf is often bad, they could only work when it was calm, and while they were doing nothing, wages mounted up. So did their bills for the coal they must bring from Sierra Leone, where coal is expensive. Then they were bothered by fever and were forced to send men home. They saw the contract would not pay and let it go. The job was not impossible; it was costing too much."
Mr. Morse agreed that Cartwright's statement was plausible and probably accurate, but thought he rather labored his argument.
"You mean to use another plan?" he said.
"My outfit will be small and cheap. This has the advantage that when my men can't work, I won't pay much for wasted time. All the same, my risk is obvious. The thing's a rash speculation, on which I can't embark unless you are satisfied to take a very small price."
For a few moments the ship broker pondered. Cartwright's line was the line a man who wanted to buy something cheap would take. All the same, Mr. Morse did not altogether see why he wanted to buy the wreck.
"What about the cargo?" he suggested. "Of course, you understand that I have no authority to sell this; you noticed the wording of our original advertisement? 'And for the salving of the cargo,' Precisely it is on that basis alone that the cargo underwriters will deal. Together with your offer for the steamer as she lies, you must accept a percentage of the value of the cargo you save."
"What is the cargo?"
"She carried palm-kernels in the forehold; I expect they have fermented and rotted. Perhaps the palm oil aft isn't spoiled."
"The barrels will have gone to bits."
"Oak barrel staves stand salt water long."
"The iron hoops do not," Cartwright rejoined. "Anyhow, I don't reckon on the cargo; I expect to make my profit on buying the hull."
"Yet the cargo is worth something. I imagine you know she carried some valuable gums, ivory and a quantity of gold?"
Cartwright smiled. "I do know the goods were on the ship's manifest. How much gold did the salvage company get?"
"Six boxes; but this was not all that was shipped."
"I imagine it's all that will be recovered!" Cartwright remarked.
The other looked hard at him, but his face was inscrutable and he went on: "Well, I don't want the cargo, and may be forced to heave much of it overboard in order to lighten the hull. However, if we find stuff worth saving, we'll put it on the beach and I'll take a third-part of the value, and you can send out an agent to tally the goods."
"Very well," said the other, who approved the latter plan, although he imagined Cartwright knew something he did not. "Let's be frank," he resumed. "Personally, I felt from the beginning there was a mystery about the wreck."
"Oh, well," said Cartwright, "the owners of the boat went broke, and the merchant who put the goods on board died. His son sold the business to a small company, in which he took shares. The new house is prosperous and respectable; it would be necessary to know your ground well before you bothered them. Then I have nothing to go upon but a vague supposition. In fact, the thing's a risky plunge, and if you refuse my offer, I won't grumble. All the same, I doubt if anybody else would give you, for example, five hundred pounds forArcturus."
"Five hundred pounds is, of course, ridiculous," the other rejoined, and they began to bargain.
When Cartwright left the office he was, on the whole, satisfied. He could finance the undertaking, but this was all. There would be no margin to cover unforeseen difficulties. It was his last gamble, and, besides his money, he staked his post and reputation. If he lost, he was done for, and the house must fall. Soon after his return he sent for Lister and told him about the wreck and his salvage plans.
"I had some bother to get a captain," he said. "The job has not much attraction for a sober man, but Brown is not sober; he's frankly reckless and irresponsible. The strange thing is, I've known him make good where cautious men have failed. Then much depends on the engineer. I brought you across to ask if you would go."
Lister's eyes sparkled. "Yes, sir. I've been looking for a chance like this."
Cartwright studied him quietly. Lister's keenness was obvious; the young fellow liked adventure, but Cartwright imagined this did not account for all.
"From one point of view, I think the chance is pretty good," he said. "If you can float the wreck and bring her home, I expect some of the big salvage companies will offer you a post. Anyhow, you'll get your pay, and if we are lucky, a bonus that will depend on the cost of the undertaking and the value of all we salve."
"I'm going," Lister declared, and Cartwright noted that he did not inquire about the pay. Then he hesitated and resumed: "But I haven't got an English chief-engineer's certificate."
"I don't know if it's important. I expect you'll find the adventure is marked by a number of small irregularities. However, to satisfy the Board of Trade is my business."
"Then you can reckon on me; but there's another thing. Why do you hope to lift the wreck when the salvage men could not?"
Cartwright smiled. "I have been asked this before, but saw no grounds for satisfying the inquirer's curiosity. All the same, I'll enlighten you."
He did so, and Lister looked up sharply. He had known Cartwright was clever, but the old fellow was cleverer than he thought. It was possible he had solved a puzzle that had baffled the salvage engineers. After all, perhaps, it was not strange they were baffled. They had reckoned on mechanical obstacles; Cartwright had reckoned on the intricacies of human nature.
"I expect you have got it, sir," Lister agreed. "If her bilge was in the sand and the divers couldn't break into the engine-room—" He paused and laughed. "A powerful centrifugal pump lifts some water, but you can't pump out the Atlantic!"
"It looks as if the salvage company tried," said Cartwright, dryly. "However—"
He talked about the undertaking, giving Lister particulars he thought he ought to know, and when the young man went off, all important plans had been agreed upon. Soon afterwards Cartwright went home and found Mrs. Cartwright had gone to bed. He was getting disturbed about her, but since the doctor had said she must rest, he talked to Barbara in the evening. He told her about the wreck, and smiled when he stated that Lister would have control.
"I think you declared he was the man for an awkward job," he said.
Barbara looked at him rather hard. "Perhaps I did say so. You don't imply you are sending Mr. Lister because you thought I'd like it?"
"Not at all," said Cartwright. "The thing's a business venture. Still your statement carried weight. I admit your judgment sometimes is sound."
She turned her head and when she looked up and replied, her voice was rather hard.
"You must not trust my judgment. I have been cheated."
"My dear!" said Cartwright. "Perhaps my remark was unlucky, but the cleverest of us is sometimes cheated, and you were not cheated long. We'll let it go. I'm bothered about your mother. She feels the damp and cold and is not picking up. Perhaps we ought to send her South. I must talk to the doctor."
In the morning he saw the doctor, who said they had better wait for a time, and Cartwright occupied himself by outfitting the salvage expedition. Finding it necessary to go to London, he called on the gentleman from whom he had bought the wreck a short time ago.
"When we made the agreement, you asked if I knew anybody who would give me five hundred pounds for the boat," remarked Mr. Morse. "Just then I did not know, but not long since I was offered a better price than yours."
"Ah," said Cartwright, thoughtfully. "She lay in the sand for some time and nobody bothered about her. Who was willing to buy?"
The other smiled. "A shipbroker stated a sum at which he would take her off our hands. It was plain he was an agent, but he wouldn't give his customer's name. I don't imagine you will find out from him. I tried!"
Cartwright said it was strange, and went off soon afterwards. When he went down in the lift he smiled, for he thought he saw a light; after all, his speculation was not as rash as it looked.
When he got home Mrs. Cartwright had come downstairs and she joined the others at dinner. The doctor said she was stronger and might soon undertake a journey South; he suggested the Canaries, and Cartwright approved.
"If you sail by a Cape liner, it's a short run, and after you leave the Spanish coast the sea is generally smooth," he said. "Since I must stay at the office, we must decide who is going with you."
Hyslop said he would like to go, and would do so if it were necessary, but to get away just then was awkward. Grace declared somebody must stop to look after Cartwright and the house, and she imagined this was her post. For all that, since she was older than Barbara, it was hard to see her duty. Mrs. Cartwright did not indicate whom she wanted, although she glanced at Barbara. Since she was ill she had got very languid, and Cartwright did not meddle. He knew his stepchildren, and it was characteristic that Grace talked about her duty; taking care of an invalid at a foreign hotel had not much charm for Grace.
"Very well," said Barbara, "I gave you and Mortimer first chance, because I'm not important, but since you have good grounds for staying, we won't argue." She turned to Mrs. Cartwright: "I'm going, because I want to go."
Mrs. Cartwright gave her a gentle smile and it was plain that she was satisfied, but when she had gone to bed and Cartwright was alone, he pondered. Barbara loved her mother and would have gone had she not wanted to go, but he thought she did want and had an object. He had told her something about his plans, and had stated that he would use Grand Canary as a supply depot for the expedition; then he had found the girl studying an Atlantic chart in the library. Barbara had no doubt noted the island lay conveniently near the African coast, and knew it was an important coaling station, at which steamers bound South from Liverpool called. Cartwright wondered whether she had argued she might see Lister at Grand Canary.
Rain was falling and the light had hardly reached the opening between the tall warehouses. In the dock the water was smooth and shone with dull reflections, but the gates were open and the muddy swell the flood tide brought up the river splashed about the entrance. Ponderous lorries rumbled across a bridge, indistinct figures moved and shouted on the pierhead, and men in wet oilskins splashed aboutTerrier'sdeck.
She was a battered propeller tug and lay against the wall, with large cases of machinery lashed to her bulwarks, and a stack of coal built up beside the engine-skylights. Her bunkers were full, but the fuel she carried would not last very long, and coal is dear at foreign ports. Coils of thick wire rope and diving gear occupied her shallow hold, and Cartwright was annoyed because she could not take the massive centrifugal pump which he had sent by an African liner. Some extra coal and supplies were loaded on a clumsy wooden hulk, but he durst not risk her carrying expensive machinery.
When he talked to the captain in the pilot-house, he was, on the whole, satisfied. Brown's face was flushed and his voice was hoarse, but he would pull himself together after he got to sea. Cartwright knew Brown's habits when he gave him the job, although, in an important sense, the job was Lister's. To trust the young fellow was a bold experiment, but Cartwright did so. If Lister were not the man he thought, Cartwright imagined his control of the line would presently come to an inglorious end. To some extent this accounted for his bringing Barbara to see the salvage expedition start. He knew the power of love.
Barbara had not gone up the greasy ladder to the bridge and waited on deck. She had left home without much breakfast, in the dark, and was cold and rather depressed. All was gloomy and strangely flat. The tug looked small and was horribly dirty. Coal-dust covered rails and ropes; grimy drops from the rigging splashed on the trampled black mud on deck. The crew were not sober and their faces were black. Two or three draggled women called to them from the pierhead, their voices sounding melancholy and harsh.
Barbara had not seen Lister and wondered where he was, until a man plunged out from the neighboring door of the engine-room. The abruptness of his exit indicated that he had been rudely propelled by somebody behind, and as he lurched across the deck, Lister appeared at the door. His cap was dark with grease, his overalls were stained, and a black smear ran from his eye to chin.
"Hustle and get that oil drum on the wharf, you drunken hog!" he shouted. "If I hadn't watched out you'd have left half the truck."
He stopped when he saw Barbara. "This is very kind," he said to her. "I knew Cartwright was on board, but hadn't hoped you would come to give us a good send-off."
Barbara noted his satisfaction and was moved by something in his voice. He looked thin and fine-drawn in his stained engineer's clothes, and his hands were greasy. The surroundings were not romantic, but somehow they got brighter and her gloom vanished. Lister's eyes sparkled; he wore the stamp of strength and confidence.
"I doubted if my step-father would bring me, but I really meant to come," she said. "For one thing, I wanted to ask you—"
She hesitated, for it was hard to strike the right note. She had begun to see there was something exciting and perhaps heroic about the adventure. The handful of men had undertaken a big thing; there was much against them, and daunting risks must be run. Moreover, she had studied Cartwright and remarked the anxiety he thought he had hid. Cartwright was rather inscrutable, but sympathy had given her power to understand. She thought he was engaged in a reckless gamble and could not afford to lose.
"Whatever you want—" Lister declared, but she stopped him.
"I want you to do your best."
"You can reckon on that, anyhow! Cartwright has hired me; I'm his man."
Barbara smiled. "Yes; I know! You're honest and will do all you engaged; but in a sense, this is not enough. I want you to make an extra effort, because—"
She paused and the blood came to her skin when she went on: "You see, it's important you should float the wreck and bring her home. It means much to my step-father; very much, I think. He's kind and I love him. I feel I ought to help."
Lister saw her statement was significant, and her embarrassment indicated that she knew it was so. In fact, she had admitted that she knew he would, for her sake, use all his powers. He was moved, but he was not a fool. The girl, wearing her costly furs, looked rich and dignified; he was a working engineer and conscious of his greasy clothes. He loved her, but for a time he must be cautious. To begin with, he would not have her think he made a claim.
"You're not very logical," he replied carelessly. "When I took the job I undertook to earn my pay. Cartwright sends me off to float the wreck, and if it's possible, I must make good."
"I am logical," Barbara declared, while her color came and went. "One thinks one does one's best, but sometimes when the strain comes, one can do better. It really isn't ridiculous! Emotion, sentiment, give one extra force—" She stopped and resumed in a strangely gentle voice: "You are young, and if you don't make good it won't hurt very much. Mr. Cartwright's old; he can't try again. Then he's not my step-father only. He's my friend, and I know he trusts you. For his sake, I must be frank—I trust you!"
Lister smiled, but his voice betrayed him, although he thought he used control.
"Very well! If it's possible for flesh and blood, we'll bringArcturushome. That's all. The thing's done with."
She gave him her hand, and kept the glove with the dark grease stain. Then, seeing there was no more to be said, she looked about. Ragged clouds rolled up from the Southwest, and the disturbed swell that splashed about the dock gates indicated wind down channel. A shower beat upon the engine skylights and Barbara moved beneath the bridge. A great rope rose out of the water as the men at the winch hauled up the clumsy hulk. Two or three others, dragging a thin, stiff wire rope, floundered unsteadily across the deck.
"They look rough, and they're not very sober," Barbara remarked.
Lister laughed. "They're frankly drunk! A pretty hard crowd, but Brown and I have handled a hard crowd before. In fact, I reckon Cartwright has got the proper men for the job."
"Captain Brown is like them," said Barbara, thoughtfully. "You are not."
"You haven't seen me hustling round when things go wrong."
"I saw you throw a man out of the engine-room not long since!"
"With a gang like ours, one must prove one's claim to be boss at the start. Anyhow, there are different kinds of wastrels, and the fellow who gets on a jag at intervals is often a pretty good sort. The wastrel one has no use for is the fellow who keeps it up. But I see Mr. Cartwright coming and mustn't philosophize."
A gateman on the pierhead began to shout to the captain, and Cartwright gave Lister his hand.
"They are waiting for you and we must get ashore," he said. "Well, I've given you and Brown a big job, but I expect you'll see me out."
"We'll put in all we've got, sir," said Lister quietly.
Cartwright nodded, as if he were satisfied, and touched Barbara, who turned and gave Lister a smile.
"Good luck!" she said, and following Cartwright, went up the steps in the wall.
She thought it significant Cartwright had left her for some time and had given Lister a quick, searching glance. Lister had said nothing about their talk and his promise; she had known he would not do so. Yet this was not because he was clever. He had a sort of instinctive fastidiousness. She liked his reply to Cartwright; hewouldput in all he had got, and a man like that had much. Fine courage, resolution and staunch loyalty.
When Barbara reached the pierhead,Terrier'sengines began to throb. The propeller churned the green water, and the tug bumped against the wall. Gatemen shouted, the big tow-rope splashed and tightened with a jerk, and the hulk began to move. Then the tug's bow crept round the corner and swung off from the gates. The engine throbbed faster, and a blast of the whistle echoed about the warehouses. Brown waved his cap and signed to a man in the pilot-house. The hulk swung round in a wide sweep, and the adventurous voyage had begun.
Terrier, steaming across the strong current, looked small and dingy; when she rolled as the helm went over, the swell washed her low bulwarks. She got smaller, until a rain squall blew across from the Cheshire side and she melted into the background of dark water and smoke. Barbara felt strangely forlorn, and it was some relief when Cartwright touched her arm and they set off along the wall.
After the rain the wind freshened, and when Brown steamed out from the river, a confused sea rolled across the shoals. The light was not good, but a double row of buoys led out to sea, the ebb-tide was running, andTerriermade good progress. She shipped no water yet, and the hulk lurched along without much strain on the rope. The rope was fastened to a massive iron hook and ran across a curved wooden horse at the tug's stern. Sometimes it slipped along the horse and tightened with a bang, for the clumsy hulk sheered about. When her stern went up one saw an indistinct figure holding the wheel.
When they passed the Bar Lightship, Lister climbed to the bridge and for a few minutes looked about. The plunging red hull to starboard was the last of the Mersey marks, for the North-West ship was hidden by low clouds. Ahead the angry gray water was broken by streaks of foam.Terrierrolled and quivered when her bows smashed a sea, and showers of spray beat like hail against the screens on the bridge.
"She's loggish," Brown remarked. "If you don't burn up that coal soon, she'll wash it off. Looks like a dirty night, and I'm pushing across for Lynas Point. With the wind at south-west, I want to get under the Anglesey coast. There'll be some sea in the channel when we open up Holyhead."
"The boat's good," said Lister. "Engines a bit neglected, but they're running smooth and cool, and she has power to shove her along. Cartwright has an eye for a useful craft."
Brown nodded. "The old fellow has an eye for all that's useful; I reckon he sees farther than any man I know. There's something encouraging about this, because the job he's given us looks tough—"
He stopped, for the tow-rope slipped noisily across the horse. There was a clang of iron as the hook took the strain, and the captain frowned. "That hulk is going to bother us before very long."
Lister seized the slanted rails. The lightship had vanished, but a bright beam pierced the haze astern. Ahead the sea was empty; gray water rolled beneath low and ragged clouds. Spray flew about the plunging bows, and the tug rolled uneasily. Lister turned and left the bridge, but stopped for a few moments at the engine-room door. Barbara had stood just opposite, where the iron funnel-stay ran down. Her rich furs gave her girlish figure a touch of dignity, the color was in her face, and her eyes shone.
Lister knew the picture would haunt him, and he would come to the engine door to recapture it when he needed bracing. He would need bracing, for there were obstacles ahead, but he had promised Barbara to help Cartwright out. Stepping across the ledge to a slippery platform, he went below.