Blow The Man Down: A Romance Of The Coast
temper, to meet Julius Marston.
The latter had himself under full restraint when they met on the yacht's
quarter-deck, and Mayo was more fully conscious of his own inadequacy.
“Below, if you please, captain.” He led the way, even while he uttered
the invitation.
No one was visible in the saloon. In the luxury of that interior the
unkempt visitor seemed especially strange, particularly out of place.
“You will excuse what has seemed to be my hurry in getting you over
here, sir, but I take it that your sailing into this port just now
coincides with the arrival of the Vose crowd in this city to-day.”
Mr. Fletcher Fogg first, and now Mr. Fogg's employer, had given advance
information which anticipated Mayo's knowledge. The young man had been
having some special training in dissimulation, and he did not betray any
surprise. He bowed.
“It's better for you to talk with me before you allow them to make a
fool of you. I am prepared to take that steamer off your hands, as
she stands, at a fair appraisal, and I will give bonds to assume all
expenses of the suit brought by the underwriters.”
“There has been no suit brought by the underwriters.”
Mr. Marston raised his eyebrows. “Oh! I must remember that you are
considerably out of the world. The underwriters make claim that the
vessel was not legally surrendered by them. Have you documents showing
release? If so, I'll be willing to pay you about double what otherwise I
shall feel like offering. Take a disputed title in an admiralty case and
it's touchy business.”
Mayo remembered the haphazard manner in which the steamer had been
transferred, and he did not reply.
Marston's manner was that of calm, collected, cool business; his air
carried weight. More than ever did Mayo feel his own pitiful weakness in
these big affairs where more than honest hard work counted in the final
adjustment.
“How much did you pay your big lawyers to stir up this suit by the
underwriters?” he blurted, and Marston's eyelids flicked, in spite of
his impassivity. There was instinct of the animal at bay, rather than
any knowledge, behind Mayo's question.
“Why should you suggest that I have anything to do with such a suit?”
“You seem almighty ready to assume all liability.”
“I'm not here to have childish disputes with you, sir. This is straight
business.”
“Very well. What do you want?”
“Have you documents, as I have suggested?”
“I have my bill of sale. I take it for granted that the folks who sold
to me are backed by papers from the underwriters.”
“That's where you are in error, unfortunately. You are all made party to
a suit. Time clause, actual abandonment, right of redemption--all
those matters are concerned. Of course, it means injunction and long
litigation. I suggested assuming liabilities and stepping in, because I
am backed by the best admiralty lawyers in New York. I repeat the offer
Mr. Fogg made to you.”
“You admit that Mr. Fogg made that offer for you or your interests, do
you?”
“Well, yes!” admitted Marston. “We allow Mr. Fogg to act for us in a few
matters.”
“I am glad to know it. There has been so much cross-tag going on that I
have been a little doubtful!”
“Kindly avoid sarcasm and temper, if you please! Do you care to accept
the offer?”
Mayo glared at the financier, looking him up and down. Furious hatred
took away his power of sane consideration. He was in no mood to weigh
chances, either for himself or for his associates. He doubted
Marston's honesty of purpose. He knew how this man must feel toward
the presumptuous fool who had dared to look up at Alma Marston; he was
conscious that the magnate must be concealing some especial motive under
his cold exterior.
Whether Marston was anticipating blackmail from Mayo's possession of the
documents or had hatched up ostensible litigation in order to force the
bothersome amateurs out of the _Conomo_ proposition, the young man could
not determine; either view of the situation was equally insulting to
those whom he made his antagonists.
“Well!” snapped the magnate, plainly finding it difficult to restrain
his own violent hatred much longer in this interview. “Decide whether
you will have a little ready cash and a good position or whether you
will be kicked out entirely!”
“I don't want your money! You're trying to cheat me with fake law
business even while you are offering me money! I don't want your job! I
have worked for you once. I'll never be your hired man again.”
“If I did not know that you have a better reason for standing out in
this fashion, I'd say that you have allowed, your spite to drive you
crazy, young man.”
“What is that better reason?”
“Blackmail! You propose to trade on a theft.”
Mayo struggled for a moment with an impulse that was almost frantic; he
wanted to throw the packet in Mar-ston's face and tell him that he lied.
Again the young man felt that queer sense of helplessness; he knew that
he could not make Marston understand.
“Mayo, I have tried to deal with you as if you were more or less of
a man. I was willing to admit that my agents had injured you by their
mistakes. I have offered a decent compromise. I have done what I hardly
ever do--bother with petty details like this!”
That impulse to deliver the papers to Marston was then not so insistent;
even Mayo's rising anger did not prompt him to do that. The wreck of a
man's life and hopes dismissed flippantly as petty details!
“Seeing that I am not able to deal with you on a business man's basis, I
shall handle you as I would handle any other thief.”
Mayo turned to leave, afraid of his own desperate desire to beat that
sneering mouth into shapelessness.
At the head of the companionway stood half a dozen sailors, armed with
iron grate-bars.
“If those papers are on you, I'm going to have them,” stated the
financier. “If they are not on you, you'll be glad to tell me where they
are before I get done with you.”
The captive halted between the master and the vassals.
“I'm going to crucify my feelings a little more, Mayo,” stated Marston.
“Step forward here where those men can't hear. It's important.”
Marston knocked softly on a stateroom door and his daughter came forth.
She gasped when she saw this ragged visitor, and in her stare there was
real horror.
“I haven't been able to sift this thing to the bottom. By facing you
two, as I'm doing, I may be able to get the truth of the case,” said
Marston, with the air of a magistrate dealing with malefactors. “Now,
Alma, I'll allow you a minute or two to use your tongue on this fine
specimen before my men use their bars.”
“I heard what my father offered you. You must take it.”
“I have other men to consider--honest men, who have worked hard with
me.”
He trembled in their presence. Her appearance put sane thoughts out of
his head and choked the words in his throat. He saw himself in a mirror
and wondered if this were not a dream--if it had not been a dream that
she had ever loved him.
He wanted to put out to her his mutilated hands which he was hiding
behind him. He yearned to explain to her the man's side of the case. He
wanted her to understand what he owed to the men who had risked their
lives to serve him, to make her realize the bond which exists between
men who have toiled and starved together.
“You have yourself to consider, first of all. Much depends. In your
silly notions about a lot of paupers you are throwing my father's
kindness in his face!”
He stammered, unable to frame coherent reply.
“Be sensible. You have no right to put a heap of scrap-iron and a lot of
low creatures ahead of your personal interests.”
There was malice in Marston's eyes. He saw an opportunity to make Mayo's
position even more false in the opinion of the girl.
“I'll be entirely frank, Mayo. In spite of our personal differences, I
want your services--I need them. I have found out that you're a young
man of determination and plenty of ability. I'll put you ahead fast if
you'll come over with me. But you must come clean. No strings on you
with that other crowd.”
“I can't sell 'em out. I won't do it,” protested Mayo. He did not
exactly understand all the reasons for his obstinacy. But his instinct
told him that Julius Marston was not descending in this manner except
for powerful reasons, and that he was attempting to buy a traitor for
his uses.
“How do you dare to turn against my father?”
“I--I don't know! Something seems to be the matter with me.” He wrenched
at his throat with his hand.
“And after what I did--my wicked foolishness--those papers--”
“Go on! I propose to get to the bottom of this thing,” declared Marston.
The young man drove his hand into his pocket, pulled out the sealed
packet, and forced it into the girl's hands. Marston promptly seized it.
“You have not opened it?”
“No, sir.”
“I did not open it, either,” cried the girl. “I sealed it, just as it
was tied up.”
Marston ripped off the strings and the wax.
Outside a loud voice was hailing the yacht. “Compliments of Captain Wass
to Captain Mayo, and will he please say when he is coming back aboard
his schooner?”
The financier paid no attention; he was busy with the papers. His face
was white with rage. He threw them about him on the floor.
“Every sheet is blank--it is waste-paper!” he shouted. “What confounded
trick is this?”
“You'd better ask the man who gave that packet to your daughter,”
suggested Mayo. He seemed to be less astonished than Marston and the
girl. “I might have known that your man, Bradish, would be that kind of
a sneak.”
“What do you know about Bradish being concerned in this?”
“I'm guessing it. Probably your daughter can say.”
“I'll have no more of your evasions, Alma. I'm going to the bottom of
this matter now. Did Bradish give you this packet?”
“Yes, father.”
“How did it get to this man here?”
“I gave it to a man named Captain Wass.”
Again they heard the voice outside. “I don't care if he is busy! I tell
you to take word to Captain Mayo that he is wanted right away on his
schooner. Tell him it's Captain Wass.”
“The devil has sent that man along at about the right time,” declared
Marston. He strode to the companion-way. “Inform Captain Wass that he is
wanted on board here! Hide those bars till he is below!”
He came back, raging, and stood between Mayo and the girl, who had
seemed to find words inadequate during the short time they had been left
together.
“I don't believe anything you tell me! There's an infernal trick, here.
The papers are missing. Somebody has them.”
His fury blinded his prudence.
He strode toward Captain Wass when the old mariner came stumping down
the companionway.
“Is your name Wass?”
“Captain Wass, sir.”
“You took papers from my daughter and brought them to this man!”
“Correct.”
Marston stepped back and kicked at the blank sheets on the floor.
“Perhaps you can tell me if these are what you brought.”.
Captain Wass stared long at Mayo, at the girl, and at the incensed
magnate. Then he looked down at the scattered papers and scratched his
head with much deliberation.
“Why don't you say something?” demanded Marston.
“I'm naturally slow and cautious,” stated Captain Wass. He put on his
spectacles, kneeled on the soft carpet, and examined the blank papers
and the broken seals. He laid them back on the carpet and meditated for
some time, still on his knees. When he looked up, peering over the edge
of his spectacles, he paid no attention to Mar-ston, to the latter's
indignant astonishment.
“Vose and others are waiting for us at the hotel,” he informed Captain
Mayo, “and it's important business, and we'd better be tending to it
instead of fooling around here.”
“No matter about any other business except this, sir,” cried Marston.