Blow The Man Down: A Romance Of The Coast
most dangerous gamble, and that's why everybody is shy. But I believe
my scheme would work, though I can't seem to get anybody else to believe
it.”
“Will I understand if you'll tell me?”
“I'd get a diver's outfit and material, and build bulk-heads in her,
both sides of the hole in her bottom. Then I'd have an engine and pumps,
and show that I could get the water out of her, or enough of it so that
she'd float.”
“But the big hole, you wouldn't mend that?”
“I think we could brace the bulkheads so that we could hold the water
out of both ends of her and let the main hole in her alone.”
“And she wouldn't sink?”
He was patient with the girl's unwisdom in the ways of the sea.
“Since you've been here at Maquoit, Polly, you have seen the
lobster-smacks with what they call 'wells' in them. All amidships is
full of water, you know--comes in through holes bored in the hull--fresh
sea-water that swashes in and out and keeps the lobsters alive till they
get to market. But the vessel is tight at both ends, and she floats.
Well, that's what I plan to do with the Conomo. With a few thousand
dollars I'm sure I can make enough of a start so I can show 'em the rest
can be done.” He promptly lost the bit of enthusiasm he had shown while
he was explaining. He began his gloomy survey of the carpet once more.
“But it's no use. Nobody will listen to a man who wants to borrow money
on a wild hope.”
She was silent a long time, and gazed at him, and he did not realize
that he was the object of such intent regard. Several times she opened
her mouth and seemed about to address him eagerly, for her eyes were
brilliant and her cheeks were flushed.
“I wish I had the money to lend you,” she ventured, at last.
“Oh, I wouldn't take it--not from a girl, Polly. No, indeed! This is
a gamble for men--not an investment for the widow and orphan,” he
declared, smiling at her. “I believe in it; that's because I'm desperate
and need to win. It's for a big reason, Polly!”
She turned her face away and grew pale. She flushed at his next words:
“The biggest thing in the world to me is getting that steamer off Razee
and showing that infernal Marston and all his 'longcoast gang that I'm
no four-flusher. I've got it in for 'em!”
He patted the hands she clasped on her knees, and he did not notice that
she was locking her fingers so tightly that they were almost bloodless.
He rose and started for the door.
“I'll go and pacify Rowley to-night, and be ready for an early start.”
“Boyd,” she pleaded, “will you do me a little favor?”
“Most certainly, Polly.”
“Wait till to-morrow morning for your business with Mr. Rowley.”
“Why?” He looked at her with considerable surprise.
“Because--well, because you are a bit unstrung, and are tired, and you
and he might have words, and you might not use your cool judgment if he
should be short with you. You know you are a little at odds with all the
world just now!” She spoke nervously and smiled wistfully. “I would be
sorry to have you quarrel with Mr. Rowley because--well, father is a
partner, and has already had words with him. Please wait till morning.
You must not lose the schooner!”
“I'm too far down and out to dare to quarrel with Rowley, but I'll do as
you say, Polly. Good night.”
“You're a good boy to obey a girl's whim. Good night.”
The moment his foot was off the last step of the porch she hurried to
her room in the cottage and secured a little packet from her portfolio.
She heard the thud of his dory oars as she walked down the street. She
was glad to know that he was safely out of the way.
Rowley's dingy windows shed a dim blur upon the frosty night. It was
near time for him to close his store, and when she entered he was
turning out the loafers who had been cuddling close to his barrel stove.
After a few moments of waiting the girl was alone with him.
“No, I don't want to buy anything, Mr. Rowley. I need your help. I ask
you to help me to do a good deed.”
He pulled his spectacles to the end of his nose and stared at her
doubtfully and with curiosity.
“If it's about the schooner, I'd rather do business with men-folks,” he
said.
“This is business that only you and I can do, and it must be a secret
between us. Will you please glance at this bank-book?”
He licked a thin finger and turned the leaves.
“Deposit of five thousand dollars and accrued interest,” he observed,
resuming his inquisitive inspection of her animated countenance.
“My mother's sister left me that legacy. It's all my little fortune,
sir. I want to loan that money to my father and Captain Mayo.”
“Well, go ahead, if you're fool enough to. I ain't your guardeen,”
assented Deacon Rowley, holding the book out to her. “But I advise you
to keep your money. I know all about their foolishness.”
“My father wouldn't take it from me--and Captain Mayo wouldn't, either.”
“That shows they ain't rogues on top of being fools.”
“But I have faith that they can succeed and make a lot of money if they
get a start,” she insisted. “I see you do not understand, sir, what I
need of you. I want you to lend them that money, just as if it came from
you. I'll give you the book and a writing, and you can draw it.”
“No, ma'am.”
“Won't you help a girl who needs help so much? You're a Christian man,
you say.”
“That's just why I can't lie about this money. I'll have to tell 'em I'm
lending it.”
“You will be lending it.”
“How's that, miss?”
“For your trouble in the matter I'll let you collect the interest for
yourself at six per cent. Oh, Deacon Rowley, all you need to do is hand
over the money, and say you prefer not to talk about it. You're a smart
business man; you'll know what to say without speaking a falsehood.
You'll break my heart if you refuse. Think! You're only helping me
to help my own father. He has foolish notions about this. You can say
you'll let them have it for a year, and you'll get three hundred dollars
interest for your trouble.”
“I don't believe they'll ever make enough to pay the interest--much less
the principal.”
“Give them five thousand dollars and draw a year's interest for yourself
out of my interest that has accrued.”
“Say, how old be you?”
“I'll be twenty-two in June.”
Deacon Rowley looked at her calculatingly, fingering his nose.
“Being of age, you ought to know better, but being of age, you can
do what you want to with your own. Do you promise never to let on to
anybody about this?”
“I do promise, solemnly.”
“Then you sign some papers when I get 'em drawn up, and I'll hand 'em
the money; but look-a-here, if I go chasing 'em with five thousand
dollars, I'll have 'em suspecting that I'm crazy, or something worse. It
ain't like Rufus Rowley to do a thing of this sort with his money.”
“I know it,” she confessed, softening her frank agreement with an
ingenuous smile. “But Captain Mayo is coming to you to-morrow morning on
business about the schooner, and you can put the matter to him in some
way. Oh, I know you're so keen and smart you can do it without his
suspecting a thing.”
“I don't know whether you're complimenting me or sassing me, miss. But
I'll see it through, somehow.”
She signed the papers giving him power of attorney, left her bank-book
with him, and went away into the night, her face radiant.
She threw a happy kiss at the dim anchor light which marked the location
of the _Ethel and May_ in the harbor.
“I am helping you get the girl you love,” she said, aloud.
She went on toward the widow's cottage. Her head was erect, but there
were tears on her cheeks.
XXIX ~ THE TOILERS OF OLD RAZEE
Hurrah! Hurrah! for Yankee wit.
Hurrah! Hurrah! for Cape Ann grit.
It's pluck and dash that's sure to win--“The _Horton's_ in!
The _Horton's_ in!”
--Old Locality.
Polly Candage, covering her emotions with that mask of demureness
which nature lends to the weaker sex for their protection, received a
tumultuous Mayo next morning in the parlor of the cottage.
“I don't know how it has happened. I don't understand it,” he exploded.
“I didn't suppose anybody could blast money out of his pocket with
dynamite--your father said it couldn't be done. But Deacon Rowley has
loaned us five thousand dollars. Here's his check on the Limeport First
National. Only charges six per cent. I'm so weak it was all I could do
to walk up here.”
“What did he say to explain it?” inquired Polly, with maiden's curiosity
in learning to what extent of prevarication a deacon would go in order
to make three hundred dollars.
“Wouldn't say much of anything. Handed out this check, said my
indorsement on it would be enough for a receipt, and said your father
and I could sign a joint note later--sometime--when he got around to
it. Have you heard any rumor that the old fellow is losing his mind? But
this check looks good!”
“Well, I think he's been pondering on the matter since father was here.
In fact, Deacon Rowley has said a few things to me,” said the girl,
meeting Mayo's gaze frankly. “Not much, of course, but something that
hinted he had a lot of confidence in both of you, seeing that you have
used him nicely in the other business he has done with you. Sometimes,
you know, these hard old Yankees take a liking to somebody and do things
all of a sudden.”
“This is sudden, all right enough,” stated Mayo, scratching the serrated
edge of the check across his palm as if to make sure it was real and not
a shadow. “Yes, he told me not to mention the note to him till he said
something to us about it himself, and to keep quiet about the loan.
Didn't want others running to him with their schemes.”
“And if I were in your place,” advised the girl, “I wouldn't tell father
where you got the money--not for a time. You know, he doesn't get along
so very well with Deacon Rowley--old folks sometimes do quarrel so--and
he might be worried, thinking the deacon had some scheme behind this.
But you don't think that way, do you?”
“I have the money, and he hasn't asked me to sign any papers. There's no
come-back there, far as I can see,” declared the young man.
“Now what will you do?”
“Rush for Limeport, hire equipment--for I've cash to pay in advance for
any leases--and get to that wreck and on to my job.”
“Simply tell father you raised the money--from a friend! If he is
worrying about anything, he doesn't work half as well. I'll ask God to
help and bless you every hour in the day.”
“Polly Candage,” cried Mayo, taking her warm, plump hands, “there's
something about you that has put courage and grit and determination in
me ever since you patted my shoulder there in the old Polly. I have been
thinking it over a lot--I had time to think when I was out aboard that
steamer, waiting.”
“There's only one girl for you to think about,” she chided.
His face clouded. “And it's the kind of thinking that isn't healthy for
a man with a normal mind. Thank the Lord, I've got some real work to
think about now--and the cash to do that work with.” He fondled his
pocket.
She went with him to the wharf, and when the schooner slid to sea behind
Hue and Cry her white handkerchief gave him final salute and silent
God-speed.
Captain Boyd Mayo, back in Limeport once more, was not the cowed,
apologetic, pleading suppliant who had solicited the water-front
machinists and ship-yard owners a few days before. He proffered
no checks for them to look askance at. He pulled a wallet that was
plethoric with new yellowbacks. He showed his money often, and with a
purpose. He drove sharp bargains while he held it in view. He received
offers of credit in places where before he had been denied. Such magic
does visible wealth exert in the dealings between men!
He did not come across Fletcher Fogg in Limeport, and he was glad of