Читать книгу The River Fury - H. A. Cody - Страница 7

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The next day the city was agog with excitement for a noble ship, the Bonnie Doon, was to be launched. For months she had been in the hands of skilled workmen. From the laying of the keel a small army of men had been busy. Framers, plankers, hole-borers, sparmakers, bolt-drivers, caulkers, dubbers, and joiners, had made the air musical with the sound of the hammer, axe, adz, and saw. All combined to bring the work to perfection, and harmony out of apparent chaos. And now she stood complete, the dream of the master-builder fulfilled, gaily decorated with flags and bunting.

An hour before high-tide people began to gather for the festive occasion. As the time for the launching drew near, every available spot was occupied by an eager and expectant throng. They had all come in holiday attire, for the Bonnie Doon was one of the largest vessels ever built at Marsh Creek. They were naturally proud of such an achievement in their city. Many of them were personally interested, for the work had been done by members of their own families.

Nat was standing on an elevated piece of ground, his eyes fixed on the new clipper. He was watching her with a great longing in his heart. Oh, to be in command of such a vessel! Suppose she were his own!

A woman’s voice nearby aroused him from his reverie. She was talking to another at her side.

“Isn’t she a beauty! My man worked upon her, an’ he’s down there now gettin’ her ready for the la’nchin’.”

“An’ my man worked upon her, too,” the other replied. “Jim’s a caulker, an’ he’s had steady work fer months. He’s goin’ on the Norseman to-morrow. She’s a fine vessel, too.”

“Better than the Bonnie Doon, so I hear.”

“Jim says she is. The premier’s buildin’ her, an’ he’s got plenty of money.”

“An’ he wants more, I s’pose. Some people are never satisfied.”

“Well, that’s his look-out. Anyway, he’s not afraid to spend his money, an’ it makes work for our men.”

“My man says the premier’s got too many irons in the fire. He’s got all he kin attend to lookin’ after the affairs of the province without goin’ into ship-buildin’.”

“Oh, he’s able to do both. He’s a smart man, an’ mighty nice, too, so Jim says, an’ kind to everybody.”

“H’m, he must be when he puts up with such a critter as Sammy Shaver. He tags after the premier like a dog. My! he’s a funny little man.”

“He certainly is, an’ very important. He thinks the government couldn’t get along without him.”

This conversation was interrupted by a shout near the vessel.

“She’s off! Look!”

Nat was already looking, and saw the Bonnie Doon start slowly down the greasy ways. Her props had been knocked out, and the workmen had moved back. Like some great monster suddenly aroused from slumber, and startled by the crowd and wild cheering, the clipper seemed to hesitate just for a few seconds. Then with a rush, leaving a smoking trail in her wake, she sped downwards and plunged into the creek beyond. Amid deafening cheers she soon righted herself, and quivering as with excitement, she was soon riding in grace and beauty upon the troubled water.

Nat watched it all with glowing eyes and fast-beating heart. He did not cheer with the others, as his emotion was too deep for any outward expression. His very soul was with that floating craft. He was her lover, emeshed in her stately dignity and charming loveliness.

“A fine job, that.”

Nat turned at the words and saw Mr. Farthing standing by his side. Faith was with him, and her face was bright with animation.

“Great,” Nat replied, drawing a deep sigh.

“Wish you owned her, lad?”

“Do I! Why, I’d give almost anything to command a ship like that.”

“You will some day,” Faith declared.

“Ay, ay,” her father agreed. “You’ll have your own clipper, my boy, never fear, and I hope I’ll be around when you first head her down the harbor.”

“I hope so, sir. But I have my doubts.”

“Tut, tut. You’re young, and with such a dream in your soul, you’ll go far. Suppose we have a look at the Norseman. She’s the kind you’d like to sail.”

They left the knoll on which they were standing and made their way in the direction of Marsh Bridge until they came to where the Norseman was lying. Others were ahead of them, and all were admiring the stately proportions of one of the finest clippers ever built in the city. Words were unnecessary as they stood and looked upon her. The truest admiration is often silent. It goes deeper than speech, yea, to the very soul. And this was especially true with Nat. He was burning with an inward longing to command such a ship. He saw her reeling through the seas, engaged in the East India trade for which she was destined. He wondered who would be her master. He should like to see him that he might feast his eyes upon such a being.

At length they left the yard and walked slowly across the bridge and along the Westmoreland Road. It seemed but natural that Nat should accompany the father and daughter. In fact, he never thought of anything else until he came to the little cottage on the side street. Here he paused at the gate.

“Come in, lad,” Mr. Farthing invited. “I want to have a few words with you about a matter of importance.

“Is that what made you so silent all the way home?” Faith smilingly asked.

“Was I silent, dear?”

“Yes, dumb as an oyster. And so was Nat. He didn’t speak a word. What great company you two are for a lone woman.”

Nat laughed as he looked at the girl.

“I am sorry, Faith. But my mind was on the Norseman, and I couldn’t think of anything else.”

“That’s the way with men, it seems to me. You and daddy are just alike. You never think about women except when you want something. And now you want your supper.”

“You are hard on us, Faith,” Nat defended. “We think of women more than you imagine. But when I am thinking of a noble ship there’s no room for anything else in my mind.”

Mr. Farthing had gone into the house, leaving the two together. Presently he appeared at the door of his workshop, and stood watching the young couple with an expression of pleasure in his eyes. To him Nat was like his own son, and he enjoyed having him at the house. Ru’s frequent visits worried him. He knew much about his evil ways, and on several occasions he had tactfully warned his daughter. But Faith had a mind of her own, so he did not dare to say too much. He trusted, however, that her common sense would direct her aright, and cause her to see the difference between Ru and Nat.

“When do you expect to sail, Nat?” he inquired.

“To-night, I hope, sir, when the tide serves.”

“You must have tea with us, then. Faith will get it right away. Come in. I have something to show you.”

The room at the rear of the cottage was more than a workshop. Although the floor was littered with shavings and chips, while several unfinished figure-heads were reposing on benches, there were outward signs of the owner’s imaginative faculty. The rough board walls were adorned with various pictures of noble vessels under full sail taken from newspapers and magazines. Neat models, too, of ships fully equipped, were resting upon wooden brackets, as well as several beautiful figure-head models. Here Mr. Farthing spent most of his spare time during the evenings when his work in the yard was done. And here Faith would come, bringing her needle-work, and sit near the window facing the west while the light of day lasted.

At such times John Farthing showed the real depth of his nature, and would bring forth work which was very dear to his heart and mind. Sometimes it would be a carving of a noted historical scene of Old Scotland, the land of his birth and childhood days. From a book of pictures he would choose one special appeal, and upon a fine piece of well-seasoned oak, clear of knots, he would carve the scene. Weeks, and sometimes months, he would take to complete his task according to the stress of other work. Then he would begin another. He had been doing this for years, until his collection was of considerable value. Very few were aware of these carvings, for John Farthing kept them in a little room partitioned off from the main workshop. These were shown only on rare occasions, and then to special friends, or to those who could appreciate the excellent quality of the work.

Faith was acquainted with the stories of those pictures, for her father had related them to her as he worked night after night. Among them all she had two favorites, one of the unfortunate Mary Queen of Scots, and the other the Noble Earl of Montrose. She never wearied of hearing her father tell about them, and how both went to their doom in such a high courageous manner. An old history of Scotland supplied her with many details which her father omitted. And when she came across two poems, one about her heroine, and the other about her hero, they fired her imagination and stirred her soul to intense fervor. The sad tragedy of those two lives affected her keenly. Sometimes she would go alone into the little room, look upon the face of the Queen, and repeat the verse which so strongly appealed to her. She needed no book, for the words were indelibly impressed upon her mind.

With slow and steady steps there came a lady through the hall,

And breathless silence chained the lips, and touched the hearts of all.

I knew that queenly form again, though blighted was its bloom,

I knew that grief had decked it out an offering for the tomb.

Then she would turn to her hero, and looking upon his splendid features would whisper,

He is coming! he is coming!

Like a bridegroom from his room,

Like the hero from his prison

To the scaffold and the doom,

There was glory in his forehead,

There was lustre in his eye,

And he never walked to battle

More proudly than to die.

Little wonder, then, that as Faith Farthing developed into womanhood, she should become imbued with the spirit of courage and high resolve caught from those noble souls of ringing far-off days.

Mr. Farthing was much pleased at his daughter’s interest in the Scottish characters, and it made him happy to watch the animated expression upon her face and the proud look in her eyes as he talked. He liked for her to live in the world of great and worthy people. At the same time, he was puzzled at her toleration of Ru Tettle, so uncouth, low-minded, and boastful. For such a person he had no use, and never invited him into his workshop, nor even into his house, for that matter. But with Nat it was different, and he enjoyed having him with them. He felt that Faith was safe in his company, and he was never anxious when they were together as he was when Ru was around.

It was for a special reason that Mr. Farthing had invited Nat into his workshop this bright summer afternoon. Everything that he did was the outcome of careful thought. He never undertook anything upon the spur of the moment, and although his thoughts like his words and actions were somewhat slow, they were in the main sure. He never laid a hand to a stick until the image of the completed figure-head he wished to carve was clear and distinct in his mind. And so careful was he that he generally made a little model that he might be accurate in every detail. And this he had done with the figure-head designed for the Norseman. He now lifted it from the workbench and held it in his hands for a few minutes without saying a word. He was giving it a keen final inspection, viewing it at arm’s length, and holding it at various angles to the light. This critical examination seemed to satisfy him, and a smile overspread his rugged face.

“Is that for the Norseman?” Nat asked.

“Ay, ay, if it will suit the premier.”

“Has he seen it?”

“Not yet, lad, so I’m hoping you’ll take it to him.”

“What! you want me to do that? Why, I never spoke to him, and, as you well know, I have no use for that man.”

“Oh, that needn’t worry you, Nat. You can do that for me.”

“Why not send it by Ru, Mr. Farthing? He would like to meet the premier. And, besides, he belongs to that party in politics.”

“I suppose he does, and the premier is welcome to him. But I want this model to go by a man I can trust, and who will not blab the news all over the country.”

Although Nat wished to oblige Mr. Farthing, he, nevertheless, hesitated. People would know of his visit to the premier in Fredericton. Somebody would be sure to see him and misconstrue his purpose. Word would go around that Nat Royal had asked the premier for some favor, a position, perhaps, on the Norseman. How would that sound? What would his mother think? And his father, were he alive, would be ashamed of him. And yet how could he refuse Mr. Farthing’s simple request? The model was only a small thing. He examined it closely. It was a beautiful piece of carving, and he longed to own it. There was a reason, for it reminded him of the strange girl up-river with the wind-tossed hair and tantalizing face. Yes, she had been captured unconsciously in that little piece of wood. It was strange, and he looked curiously at Mr. Farthing.

“Have you ever seen anyone like that, sir?” he asked.

“I have, lad, and it was only a few weeks ago, at that. We were working over there in the yard when a girl, alone in a small boat, sailed up the creek. It was high-tide, with a light breeze blowing. The way she handled that boat was a marvel. We all stopped a few minutes to watch her, for it was most unusual to see a girl alone on the water. She ran the boat ashore and came up to where we were working, and watched us. She seemed interested in everything. And I was interested in her, for as soon as I saw her she brought to my mind a woman I knew years ago in the old country. The resemblance was most striking, the same face and figure, color of hair, and eyes with the dare-devil light in them.”

“Who is she?” Nat asked as casually as possible, although greatly interested.

“I have no idea. She loitered around the yard for a while and watched us as we worked, but asked no questions. I could not get her out of my mind, for she was an unusual person to my way of thinking.”

“So you intend to put her into the figure-head for the Norseman, Mr. Farthing.”

“Yes, if the premier is satisfied. But if you won’t take the model, I shall have to get some one else I can trust.”

“I’ll take it, sir. Wrap it up so nobody can see it. I’ll do it for you.”

He was going to add, “and for Faith,” but checked himself in time.