Читать книгу Storm King Banner - H. A. Cody - Страница 12

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The great spruce tree was quivering to its fall a short distance from the brook which flows through Storm King Valley. It was giving up its life for the sake of commerce, to satisfy world-wide trade. Ships-knees were necessary for the great clippers being built down at the harbor and other places in the province. Timber of various kinds was needed, so a lucrative business was carried on both winter and summer to supply the demand.

Prosper Dean confined himself to ships-knees from the large fir, spruce, and pine trees which grew on his own land of over one hundred acres in extent. From these he made considerable extra money. It was not really necessary for him to carry on this business, as he had all he needed for living purposes, as well as books and other things which meant food for his mind and soul. But he liked to be in the woods, digging at the roots of trees, inhaling the fragrant scents of the forest, and feeling that he was master of these towering giants. It always thrilled him to look up at a great pine or spruce which had withstood the storms of many years, and to know that what the tempests had failed to do he could accomplish in an hour or two, and the mighty tree would crash to the ground at his will. This was the spirit that animated his soul. He believed that what could be done here could also be done with all living creatures, especially human beings. When the master spirit was strong enough it could overcome everything, and bend all things beneath its sway, as Prospero did on his island long ago. He liked to think that he had solved the meaning of The Tempest story.

As a rule Mr. Dean worked alone in the woods, and only occasionally hired some one to assist him, especially with a very large knee. But today it was not for such help that he had Jim Weston with him. There was something far more important.

He had worked with Jim digging around the foot of the tree, laying bare the great elbow-like root which made the tree so valuable, and cutting away the smaller ones. He noticed that his companion worked with a feverish excitement, and when the last shovelful of earth had been cast out, he saw Jim seize a partly-dulled axe and attack the roots with unusual vigor. As he watched the stalwart form hurling great blows upon the insensate roots, and saw the expression upon his face and the gleam in his eyes, he knew that he was attacking more than wood. At length the tree began to quiver, lean a little, and when another root had been severed, it fell to the ground with a resounding crash, tearing off branches of nearby trees, and crushing the small underbrush in its downward sweep.

With almost savage delight Jim seized a sharp axe by his side, leaped upon the tree, and measured with the handle the length required for the knee. Then standing upon the trunk, he drove the blade of his axe through the bark and deep into the side of the fallen giant. As Mr. Dean watched his swaying and bending form, he seemed like a veritable titan hurling blow after blow upon some bitter enemy. At any other time he would have enjoyed such a scene, but now a feeling of anxiety possessed him. This was intensified as Jim ere long swung suddenly around and began to cut into the opposite side. His face was clearly visible, and what Mr. Dean saw there was not at all pleasant. He said nothing, however, but waited until the last blow had been given, and the root severed. Driving his axe into the tree, Jim wiped his forehead with a big red handkerchief he had pulled from a hip-pocket.

"There, that's done. My, I'm hot!"

"That's because you have been doing double work, Jim," Mr. Dean quietly replied.

"Double work! What do you mean?"

"You have been cutting more than a ship-knee, haven't you? What about the enemies you have been smiting?"

Jim looked keenly at Mr. Dean, and a smile overspread his face. This was only for an instant, however, for his countenance darkened like black clouds shutting out a ray of sunshine.

"Maybe I have, sir," he acknowledged. "But haven't I a good reason?"

"Perhaps so. But don't do it, Jim. It might lead to action."

"Ah, that's just what I want. Action! Heavens! how I long for action, to get my hands on the devil who ruined my life."

"And when you do, you will get more than prison, remember."

"I don't care, so long as I give Old Thistle what's coming to him."

"Steady, Jim. I don't like to hear you talk this way. There's a devil in your heart which must be conquered."

"And who put it there, sir? Who is the man that wrecked my life and had me sent to prison to save his own skin? Wasn't it Old Thistle, who swore to lies, paid out money hand-over-fist to bribe others to clear himself? I never scuttled my ship. Others were bribed to do it. That's God's truth, and you know it."

"I do, Jim. It's a sordid tale of injustice. But rise above it, man. Conquer the devil within you."

"Conquer the devil within me! That's easier said than done. I want to conquer another devil first."

"Sit down, Jim," and Mr. Dean motioned him to the fallen tree. "There, that's better. I have not brought you here merely to help me with this ship-knee. Ah, no. But it is well to remember that you were not the only one injured by Tim Rayson."

"I do, sir. I know that he ruined you, too."

"No, Jim, he didn't. He tried to, but failed."

Jim's eyes opened wide in surprise, and he looked keenly at his companion.

"What do you mean, sir? I always thought he ruined you. Didn't he take the money you entrusted to him, bought that old ship, had her sunk, collected the insurance, and never paid you a cent? He did all that, and a great deal more."

"I know he did. But that didn't ruin me. It made a new man of me."

"I can't understand that at all. It's beyond me."

"No doubt it is, Jim."

Mr. Dean paused and stood very still, lost in thought. He then sat down by his companion's side.

"I have something to tell you, Jim. It is the main reason why I have brought you here today. Last evening when I told you that Old Thistle is in town I saw murder in your eyes. Wasn't I right?"

"I guess so. And it's there still, and in my heart, as well."

"I know it is, and I want you to overcome it. I am interested in you, so wish to do all I can for your welfare. But if you think only of revenge, all my efforts will be in vain. You can conquer that evil spirit as I have mine."

"But you have not suffered as I have, Mr. Dean. If you'd been in prison, maybe you'd talk differently."

"I have been there, too, Jim, in the bondage of hell. But I am free now, and have broken the shackles which held me. You don't understand me, I see. That's quite natural. Let me explain. Years ago I saw The Tempest played, and since then I have studied it until I know it by heart, and can repeat it all from beginning to end. You do not know the play, I suppose?"

"I do, sir. I saw it once in England, when my ship was there. It was great."

"I am glad, for I need not tell you the story. But you remember how Prospero was wrongfully treated by his brother, sent adrift with his daughter to perish. He was cast upon an island, and there through the greatness of his spirit he was able to do wonderful things. He was the master of all because he was master of himself. And you know how he controlled the vile Caliban. Then, when his brother and others were wrecked and landed upon the island, instead of taking revenge, he was great enough to forgive the wrongs that had been done to him. I have tried to follow his example. When the Caliban nature rises in my heart, I crush it down. Do you think I am going to let such a brute rule me, made in the image of God? I tell you, no. I should be ashamed to call myself a man if I allowed myself to be overcome by the spirit of revenge. I have been watching you, Jim, since you followed me to the Valley. So far you have acted the man. But now I am becoming uneasy."

"Oh, you needn't worry about me, sir," Jim slowly replied. "I am quite able to take care of myself. You don't understand me. You think you do, but you don't. Your nature is different from mine. And, besides, as I said, you have not suffered as I have. If you had lost everything, ship, home, honor, child, you'd know how I feel. Could you forgive?"

Mr. Dean rose from the log and stood erect before his companion. There was something so impressive about his appearance that Jim looked at him with a mingled feeling of awe and surprise. He had always respected and admired Mr. Dean, considering him superior to most men in knowledge and manner of living. But he had never seen him look as he did now, as he waited for him to speak. It seemed that at first Mr. Dean found it difficult to express what he wished to say. At length, however, he stepped forward and laid a hand upon his workman's shoulder.

"Jim, I have something to tell you, and then you will know how I am feeling. Old Thistle's son spent last night at my house."

The effect of this information was startling. Jim leaped to his feet, his eyes ablaze with eagerness.

"At your house! Old Thistle's son! Where is he now?"

"He has returned to the city."

"Ah, it's well for him that he has. Why didn't you let me know this last night?"

"Why? What would you have done?"

"Don't ask me, for I don't know. But what was he doing here?"

"He brought a message from his father for Peter Horn. Old Thistle is going to lumber in the valley next winter, and he is determined to take Peter's place. He contends that the old line is wrong, and he is planning to have a new one run which will take in all of Peter's fine tract of timber. The Horns are nearly crazy. Jacynth was at their place this morning, so that is how I heard the news."

Jim made no reply. He stood very still for a while, gazing off among the trees. Mr. Dean surmised the thoughts that were seething in his mind. He touched him on the arm.

"Don't look that way, Jim. I want your help, but if you have murder in your heart you will be useless to me, and spoil everything. This is the time for clear sober thinking and right action if we are to save Peter's property."

"Sober thinking! Right action! Bah! And let that devil have his own way? You think the law will stop him, I suppose? The law be d——! Don't I know what it did to me. It cleared Old Thistle and sent me to prison. And if Peter goes to law, what will he accomplish? Nothing. Old Thistle has money, and money will do anything, law or no law. No, there's another way, and by——"

Jim never finished his sentence, for a sudden blow upon his jaw from Mr. Dean's fist sent him reeling backwards. Too much amazed to be angry at first, he stared at the man standing calmly before him. Then his face grew white, and he was about to leap forward to avenge the blow, when Mr. Dean held up his right hand.

"Just a minute, Jim, before you attack me, and kill me, if you wish, for you are strong enough to do it. I did not hit you in anger, remember, but to bring you to your senses. When master of the Ocean Belle you often struck men to teach them a lesson, didn't you?"

"I did, but it's different here," was the reluctant reply. "I was in command at sea, and the men had to obey or take what was coming to them."

"Why, Jim?"

"Because I was responsible for the ship. I couldn't do anything if the crew didn't mind. There was always too much at stake to put up with any nonsense."

"That's just the point, Jim. At sea you were in command, and your word was law. There was no other way to deal with rebellious people. But on shore it is different. Every man is not allowed to take the law into his own hands and do as he pleases. There is a better way."

"I suppose you mean the law? Look what the law did to me. Didn't it send me to prison?"

"Steady, Jim. Let us forget the law at present. I hit you, and you want to get back at me. But something restrains you, I see. Is it the way I look at you?"

"Blame if I know," Jim growled. "If any other man hit me, he wouldn't get off with it, let me tell you that."

"There is a reason. You know that I am interested in you and seek your welfare. I did not hit you, but Caliban, the devil in you. There, now, wait until I'm through. When at sea you felt responsible for your ship. So I feel responsible now for something more important than a vessel and its cargo. It is for your honor, Peter Horn's place, for Jacynth's sake, as well as my own."

"Jacynth! What about her?"

"A great deal, Jim, but it's no use to tell you my trouble. I hoped I could, but I see you are not the one to help. I am disappointed. I believed that you were the only man I could talk to who would understand and assist me. But Caliban is too strong within you for my purpose. I shall have to depend upon myself, and, perhaps, the spirit of Prospero will sustain me."

While Mr. Dean was talking, Jim had brought forth his pipe, tobacco and knife. Thoughtfully he whittled off several slices from the black plug, rolled the pieces between the palms of his hands, and slowly filled his pipe. The fire had died out of his eyes. He was now in a more reasonable frame of mind, and this Mr. Dean noticed. When he had lighted his pipe, he crushed the burnt match between his fingers and then threw it upon the ground.

"I think I understand the meaning of your words, sir," he at length began. "You want me to help you, I see. You're troubled about Jacynth, and I believe I know what it is. She's taken with Old Thistle's son. Is that it?"

"You are right, Jim. They are in love with each other, so what am I to do?"

"Do? Don't let him come near your place again. Keep the two apart."

"That's easier said than done. You surely know what Jacynth is like. She has a strong will of her own, and any interference on my part would only make matters worse. And, besides, I like the young man. He is altogether different from his father. He is an artist, too. I believe he and Jacynth would be very happy if—"

As Mr. Dean abruptly paused, Jim took the pipe from his mouth.

"Look here, sir. You may know a lot about books, and have the spirit of that Prospero fellow, but you don't know men as well as I do. I don't believe that any good thing can come from Old Thistle. You can't make a silk purse out of a sow's ear, and you know it."

"But he takes after his mother, Jim. He told me so himself."

"H'm! And you believed him, I suppose? But with the blood of Old Thistle in his veins, I have my doubts. Have nothing to do with him, sir. That is my advice. Jacynth is too fine a girl to be thrown away upon the first grinning jackass that comes along. That's my opinion, and it's all I have to say."

"So I can't depend upon you, then, to help me, Jim?"

"I'm willing to do all I can for you and Jacynth. Just leave it at that for the present."

"Very well," and Mr. Dean gave a deep sigh. "You may hit me now, Jim, and get it over."

"Forget that, sir. It was only a tap, and I hardly felt it. Why, if I hit a man like that on the Ocean Belle, he would have thought nothing of me as a captain. Unless I broke his nose, or laid his cheek open, he would have had no respect for me."

"And you will have little respect for me, I suppose?"

"Oh, it's different here. And, besides, you're not used to knocking men down to make them mind."

"I am not, Jim, and I don't intend to do it. I am sorry I hit you, but to make amends, I am going to help you build a new house. I have plenty of lumber, so you can begin hauling it whenever you are ready."

"What about this knee, sir? You can't manage it alone. I'll help you get it to the shore in the morning. I must be off now, as Nell will be coming home."

After Jim Weston had left, Mr. Dean stood and looked for a while at the big root lying before him.

"That thing will be trimmed and hewn into its proper shape without much difficulty. How I wish the same could be done with human beings. Jim thinks I am mostly interested in digging roots. He cannot see that I am doing more than cutting ships-knees when I am working here. But it seems almost useless to explain to him that I am after something far more important. Ah, no, he cannot see, for Caliban is too strong within him. It is quite clear that I have more than one Caliban to conquer, but how to do it is the great problem."