Blow The Man Down: A Romance Of The Coast
Razee. His doubts were mostly concerned with the matter of the documents
which Mr. Fogg was seeking so insistently. Mayo himself had done a
little seeking. He inquired at the post-office, but there was no mail
for him. If no papers had been abstracted from the Marston archives,
if this affair were some new attempt at guile on the part of Fogg, the
promoter had certainly done a masterly bit of acting, Mayo told himself.
He determined to keep his own counsel and wait for developments.
Two days later the developments arrived at Razee in the person of
Captain Zoradus Wass, who came a-visiting in a chartered motor-boat. He
climbed the ladder, greeted his _protégé_ with sailor heartiness, and
went on a leisurely tour of inspection.
“Something like a tinker's job on an iron kittle, son,” he commented.
“You must have been born with some of the instincts of a plumber. Keep
on the way you're operating and you'll get her off.”
“I'll never get her off by operating as I am just now, Captain Wass. We
are standing still. No money, no credit, no grub. I made a raise of
five thousand and have spent it. I don't dare to go to the old skinflint
again.”
“Well, why not try the heiress?” inquired the old skipper. “You know I
have always advised you strong about the heiress.”
“Look here, Captain Wass, I don't want to hear any more jokes on that
subject,” objected the young roan, curtly.
“No joke to this,” stated the captain, with serenity. “Let's step into
this stateroom.” He led the way and locked the door.
“There's no joke, son,” he repeated, “and I don't like to have you show
any tartness in the matter. Seeing what friends we have been, I ain't
taking it very kindly because you have been so mighty close-mouthed.
I'm a man to be trusted. You made a mistake in not telling me. The thing
'most fell down between me and her!”
He frowned reproachfully at the astonished Mayo.
“She came expecting, of course, that I was about your closest friend,
and when I had to own up that you have never mentioned her to me she
thought she had made a mistake in me, and wasn't going to give me the
thing!”
“What thing, and what are you talking about?”
Captain Wass patted his coat pocket.
“I convinced her, and it was lucky that I was able to, for it's a matter
where only a close and careful friend ought to be let in. But after this
you mustn't keep any secrets away from me if you expect me to help you.
However, you have shown that you can take good advice when I give it to
you. I advised you to grab Julius Marston's daughter and, by thunder!
you went and done it. Now--”
Mayo impatiently interrupted. Captain Wass was drawling, with manifest
enjoyment of the part he was taking in this romance.
“You have brought something for me, have you?”
“She is a keen one, son,” proceeded the captain, making no move to show
the object he was patting. “Hunted me up, remembering that I had you
with me on the old _Nequasset_, and put questions to me smart, I can
tell you! You ought to have been more confidential with me.”
“Captain Wass, I can't stand any more of this nonsense. If you have
anything for me, hand it over!”
“I have taken pains for you, traveled down here, four or five hundred
miles, taking--”
“Yes, taking your time for the trip and for this conversation,” declared
Mayo, with temper. “I have been put in a mighty mean position by not
knowing you had these papers.”
“Safe and sure has always been my motto! And I had a little business of
my own to tend to on the way. I have been finding out how that fat Fogg
snapped himself in as general manager of the Vose line. Of course, it
was known well enough how he did it, but I have located the chap that
done it for him--that critter we took along as steward, you remember.”
In spite of his anxiety to get into his hands the parcel in the old
skipper's pocket, Mayo listened with interest to this information; it
related to his own affairs with Fogg.
“I'm going to help the honest crowd in the Vose line management to tip
over that sale that was made, and when the right time comes I'll have
that white-livered clerk in the witness-box if I have to lug him there
by the ears. Now, Mayo, that girl didn't say what was in this packet.”
He pulled out a small parcel which had been carefully tied with cords.
“She is in love with you, because she must be in love to go to so much
trouble in order to get word to you. If this is a love-letter, it's
a big one. Seems to be all paper! I have hefted it and felt of it
consid'able.”
He held it away from Mayo's eager reach and investigated still more with
prodding fingers.
“Hope she isn't sending back your love-letters, son. But by the look she
had on her face when she was talking about you to me I didn't reckon she
was doing that. Well, here's comfort for you!” He placed the packet in
Mayo's hands.
The parcel was sealed with three neat patches of wax, and on each blob
was imprinted the letters “A M” in a monogram. Mayo turned the packet
over and over.
“If you want me to step out, not feeling as confidential toward me as
you used to, I'll do it,” proffered Captain Wass, after a polite wait.
“I'm not going to open this thing--not yet,” declared the young man.
“That's for reasons of my own--quite private ones, sir.”
“But I'd just as soon step out.”
“No, sir. Your being here has nothing whatever to do with the matter.”
He buttoned the packet into his coat pocket. He had little respect for
Fletcher Fogg's delicacy in any question of procedure; the promoter's
animus in the matter of those papers was clear. Nevertheless, the agent
had crystallized in bitter words an idea which was deterring Mayo: would
he take advantage of a girl's rash betrayal of her father? Somehow
those seals with her monogram made sacred precincts of the inside of the
packet; he touched them and withdrew his hand as if he were intruding at
the door which was closed upon family privacy.
“I suppose you'd rather keep your mind wholly on straight business,
seeing what a bad position you're in,” suggested Captain Wass. “Very
well, we'll put love-letters away and talk about something that's
sensible. It's too bad there isn't some tool we could have to pry open
that Vose line sell-out. The stockholders got cold feet and slid out
from under Vose after the _Montana_ was laid up.”
“What has been done with her?”
“Nothing, up to now. Cashed in with the underwriters and are probably
using the money to play checkers with on Wall Street. Maybe they're
using her for a horrible example till they scare the rest of the
independents into the combination.”
“Have the underwriters sold?”
“Yes. She has been bid in--probably by some tinder-strapper of the big
pirates. It's a wonder they let you get hold of this one.”
“They thought she was spoken for. When they found that she wasn't, they
sent Burkett out here to blow her up.”
Captain Wass was not astonished by that information.
“Probably! All the talk which has been circulated says that you were
junking her. I didn't have any idea you were trying to save her.”
“We have been blocked by some busy talkers,” admitted the young man.
“It's too bad the other folks can't do some talking and have the facts
to back 'em up, son. Do you know what could be done if that syndicate
could be busted? The old Vose crowd would probably hitch up with the
Bee line folks. The Bee-liners are discouraged, but they haven't let
go their charter. You wouldn't have to worry, then, about getting your
money to finish this job, and you'd have a blamed quick market for this
steamer as soon as she was off this reef.”
The bulging packet seemed to press against Mayo's ribs, insistently
hinting at its power to help.
“I am going back and have a talk with old man Vose about this steamer,”
said Captain Wass. “Now, son, a last word. I don't want to pry into
any delicate matters. But I sort of smell a rat in those papers in your
pocket. When she took 'em out of her muff all I could smell was violet.
Do you think you've got anything about you that would help me--help
us--help yourself?”
“No, sir; only what you see for yourself in this steamer's
possibilities.”
“Very well; then I'll do the best I can. But confound this girl business
when it's mixed into man's matters!” It was heartfelt echo of Mr. Fogg's
sentiments.
Captain Wass departed on his chartered motor-boat, after eating some
of the boiled fish and potatoes which made up the humble fare of the
workers on Razee.
Mayo based no hopes on the promised intervention of the old skipper. He
had been so thoroughly discouraged by all the callous interests on shore
that he felt sure his project was generally considered a failure. When
he was on shore himself the whole thing seemed to be more or less a
dream. {*}
* When the steamer _Carolyn_ was wrecked on Metinic Rock a
few years ago a venturesome young man, without money or
experience in salvaging, managed to raise a few thousand
dollars, bought the steamer for $1,000 from a frightened
junk concern, and after many months of toil, during which he
was mocked at by experienced men, managed to float her. She
was sold recently for $180,000, and is now carrying cargoes
to Europe.
They were reduced to extremities on board the _Conomo_. There was no
more coal for the lighter's engine, equipment was disabled, parts were
needed for worn machinery, Smut-nosed Dolph was pounding Hungryman's
tattoo on the bottom of the flour-barrel, trying to knock out enough
dust for another batch of biscuit.
Mayo had kept his promise and had not confided to Captain Candage the
source of the loan which had enabled them to do what they had done.
After a few days of desperate consideration Mayo sailed on the _Ethel
and May_ for Maquoit.
He avoided the eyes of the villagers as much as was possible; he landed
far down the beach from the house which was the refuge for the folks
from Hue and Cry. In his own heart he knew the reason for this slinking
approach: he did not want Polly Candage to see him in this plight. Her
trust had been so absolute! Her confidence in him so supreme! In his
mental distress he was not thinking of his rags or his physical
unsightliness. He went straight to the store of Deacon Rowley and his
looks startled that gentleman into some rather unscriptural
ejaculations.
However, Deacon Rowley promptly recovered his presence of mind when Mayo
solicited an additional loan. The refusal was sharp and conclusive.
“But you may as well follow your hand in the thing,” insisted Mayo.
“That's why I have come to you. I hated to come, sir. I have tried all
other means. You can see how I have worked!” He spread his tortured
hands. “Come out and see for yourself!”
“I don't like the water.”
“But you can see that we are going to succeed if we get more money. You
have five thousand in the project; you can't afford to drop where you
are.”
“I know what I can afford to do. I have always said, from the first,
that you'd never make a go of it.”
At this statement Mayo displayed true amazement.
“But, confound it all, you lent us money! What do you mean by
crawfishing in this way?”
Deacon Rowley was visibly embarrassed; he had dropped to this vitally
interested party a damaging admission of his real sentiments.
“I mean that I ain't going to dump any more money in, now that you ain't
making good! I might have believed you the first time you came. I reckon
I must have. But you can't fool me again. No use to coax! Not another
cent.”
“Aren't you worried about how you're going to get back what you have
already lent?” demanded Mayo, with exasperation.
“The Lord will provide,” declared Deacon Rowley, devoutly.
The young man stared at this amazing creditor, worked his jaws a few