Читать книгу The River Fury - H. A. Cody - Страница 9

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Tom was impatiently awaiting Nat’s return. He went ashore for him with the tender, and was unusually silent as he rowed back to the Scud.

“What’s wrong, Tom?” Nat asked when they were at last on board. “You look as mournful as a funeral.”

“An’ I feel jist as mournful,” Tom growled, as he let the tender fall astern, and tied the line to the rail. “Here I’ve been waitin’ fer the last hour. If we git through the falls on this tide it’ll be by a close squeak.”

Nat realised that this was true and that there was no time to lose. Hurrying down into the cabin, he laid the figure-head upon a shelf over his bunk, changed quickly into his working clothes, and sprang on deck. They hoisted sail, weighed anchor, and soon were drifting on the flood tide up towards the falls. Nat was at the wheel, with Tom standing by his side, peering keenly ahead.

“Can we make it?” Nat asked.

“Guess so. But the tide’s slackenin’ fast. Keep her a little to the left, me boy. We should have been here sooner. Ru got away half an hour ago.”

“He did! Why, he was with me when I first saw the Norseman on fire.”

Tom started and turned quickly around.

“What’s that ye say, Nat? The Norseman on fire! Is she much damaged?”

“Only a little blaze. But we got it out before any harm was done. It was a close shave.”

“Ye don’t say so! How d’ye s’pose it started?”

“No one knows. I was talking with Ru when I saw the smoke, and gave the alarm. A crowd soon gathered with buckets. Another five minutes, though, and it would have been too late.”

“An’ Ru didn’t help?”

“No.”

“The skunk! mebbe he started the fire.”

“No, he didn’t. I met him near the Flood Gate saloon, and we walked along together.”

“Well, I take yer word fer it, Nat. But if Ru didn’t set that fire, it wasn’t fer lack of badness. I’m sorry he’ll beat us on this run up. He’ll do a lot of crowin’ ag’in.”

Having cleared the lip of the falls, a breeze from the west filled the sails, and Nat headed the vessel for Indiantown some distance ahead on the right. He drew up at length alongside of a wharf and went ashore to do some shopping, leaving Tom on board. He was not gone long, and when he returned, he saw a man standing on the wharf.

“Going up river, captain?” he asked.

“Yes; right away.”

“Give me a lift?”

“Sure. Come on board. There’s plenty of room.”

The stranger followed Nat, and in another minute the Scud was on her way, headed for the Narrows beyond. Tom had taken the provisions down into the cabin, and soon the tempting odor of frying bacon was drifting up through the hatchway. The passenger smiled as he looked at Nat.

“That smells good. And I hear eggs sizzling.”

“Tom’s preparing his supper. Had yours yet?”

“Oh, yes, an hour ago.”

“How far are you going?” Nat inquired, as he swung the Scud to the right around a sharp bend at the entrance to the Narrows.

“To Fredericton. I’ve an uncle there I haven’t seen for years.”

“Where do you live?”

“In Boston. Been there since I was a boy. Poor health sent me on this trip. ‘Keep on the water all you can’ my doctor advised, so that’s why I’m taking the river route. There’s nothing like the great wide open out-of-doors for health. I feel like a new man already.”

Nat at first was quite impressed with the man. It was seldom he had a passenger, and this affable stranger promised considerable entertainment which would help to wile away many weary hours. He glanced at him occasionally and wondered how old he was. He was neatly dressed, and his hands were white and unaccustomed to manual labor. A ring on the third finger of his left hand contained a jewel, and Nat was curious as to its value. The man had a thin face, and a nose resembling the beak of a hawk. His forehead was low and narrow, crowned by jet-black hair, carefully parted in the middle. There was something about his mouth Nat did not like, especially when he smiled, which even the heavy moustache could not conceal. It gave him a creepy feeling once when he glanced at the man and saw those white teeth. They brought to his mind a picture he had seen of a shark’s teeth about to close upon a helpless victim. He was glad when Tom called from below that supper was ready.

“You had better go down and have some bacon and eggs,” he suggested. “Tom likes company.”

The passenger was nothing loth, and in another minute he was in the cabin. Nat wished to have Tom’s opinion of the man, and he wondered if it would be similar to his own. The stranger did most of the talking, and only once or twice during the entire meal did he hear Tom’s voice.

When they at last came on deck, Nat handed over the wheel to Tom and went below. He wished to tidy up the cabin and store away the provisions he had brought on board. Half an hour later when he again went on deck, the stranger was seated on a box by Tom’s side, talking and smoking.

“Yes, I’ve travelled a great deal,” he was saying, “but I’ve never seen anything like this,” and he waved his right hand towards the eastern shore lying soft and luminous beneath the last glow of departing day. “I’ve seen many rivers in the United States, but nothing to equal this.”

“Jist wait till we git further up,” Tom replied. “Ye’ll see somethin’ then that’ll open yer eyes.”

“Is that so? Well, I can’t imagine anything more wonderful than this. Look at those fields with the farms, trees, and houses dotting the hillside. Just think what it must mean to people to live with such beauty around them. How their souls must expand amidst such scenes of nature.”

“H’m,” Tom grunted. “If their souls expand it’s more’n their pocket-books do. They grub from mornin’ ’til night, and then kin hardly make a livin’. They don’t take much stock, I guess, in the soul-expandin’ bizness.”

“Ah, that’s where they make a big mistake, my friend. There is something within each of us which craves for more than mere material food. The soul needs feeding as well as the body. It was Master Shakespeare who said, ‘It’s the mind that makes the body rich’. Ever read any of his works?”

“Naw. Never heard of him. What did he do?”

“Wrote wonderful plays and poetry. I could quote you yards of his stuff.”

“Don’t do it, Mister. I’ve enough troubles now, so can’t stand any more.”

Nat smiled at Tom’s words. He was sitting on the curbing of the cabin, looking straight ahead. He took no part in the conversation, knowing full well that Tom could more than hold his own with almost anyone. A breeze from the west, soft and gentle, kept the sails full, and the Scud plowed steadily on her way. So long as the boat was moving Nat was satisfied. But should the wind die down, it would mean a serious delay. Slowly the darkness deepened and the stars appeared in the cloudless sky. Only the gentle creaking of the light-straining sails and the swish of water broke the stillness, for even the voluble stranger was awed into a respectful silence. But this could not last long.

“I don’t believe I ever experienced such a perfect night,” he at length declared, as he knocked the ashes out of his pipe and then began to refill it. “Have many like this?”

“Lots of ’em,” Tom replied. “But sometimes its purty nasty, ’specially in the fall.”

“Hard river to navigate, eh?”

“No, not too bad down here. But further up where its narrow, it gits somewhat ticklish.”

“Ever had an accident?”

“Oh, yes, we’ve had our share. It’s allus well to be a good swimmer when yer boatin’, fer ye kin never tell when somethin’ might happen.”

“There’s no danger to-night, I hope.”

“Not likely, Mister. But one never knows when he might smash into a craft comin’ down river. Kin ye swim?”

“No, not a stroke.”

“That’s too bad.”

The passenger seemed to be so deeply affected by these words that Nat felt sorry for him.

“Don’t mind what Tom says,” he remarked. “He’s always looking for trouble. We’re about as likely to hit another boat as we are to smash into one of those stars. When it’s very dark and stormy there’s a risk, of course, but not to-night.”

“I’m glad to hear you say that, cap,” and the stranger gave a sigh of relief. “It makes me shiver to think of being plunged into that black water down there.”

“Oh, I didn’t mean to scare ye,” Tom replied. “It was jist a warnin’, that was all. Here, Nat, you take the wheel. I’m gittin’ so sleepy I kin hardly keep me eyes open. I kin never sleep much down there in the harbor with sich an ever-lastin’ racket goin’ on all the time.”

“And I feel sleepy, too,” the passenger announced. “But no cabin for me on a night like this. I’m going to stretch out up forward, if you don’t mind, cap.”

“What! On the hard deck!” Tom exclaimed.

“Yes, right on the deck. I’ve been sleeping so much in the open, obeying the doctor’s orders, you see, that I would suffocate down there in the cabin. If you let me have a quilt or a blanket I shall get along fine.”

“Want to study the stars, I s’pose?” Tom queried. “Got a poetry kink like that feller ye was tellin’ me about?”

The stranger laughed, much amused.

“An open deck and a night like this should stir the dullest soul. If the muse doesn’t visit me to-night, then I’m hopeless.”

Tom went below and tossed up a quilt and a pillow.

“There, take them. They need a little airin’, anyway.”

Picking them up, the passenger walked up towards the bow. Nat was glad to get the fellow out of the way, and he breathed more freely when his form could no longer be seen. Darkness and silence settled down over river and land as the vessel slipped up through The Reach towards the three islands in the distance. Soon he had the dim form of Caton’s Island on the left. Then came Rocky Island, much smaller, and the reputed burying place of Captain Kidd’s treasure. Beyond this the Isle of Vines, lifted high out of the water and thickly wooded. Beyond, Oak Point lighthouse sent forth its clear and steady rays. Steering by this, Nat glanced occasionally to the left, but no light shone from his own home. He glanced off towards the Creek House and saw it brilliantly illuminated. Every window seemed to be ablaze with light. The sight startled him and he was tempted to arouse Tom that he, too, might view the scene. What was the meaning of that lighted house? he asked himself. Was there something, after all, in those stories his mother had told him about the strange doings around the place at night? But he had not heard anything about the building being brilliantly lighted. Perhaps there were visitors at the house who were spending the night in revelry. And what kind of visitors would they be? He thought of the crazy old man and the odd son. Who would wish to visit such peculiar people? But perhaps they were young men and women from the city, guests of the girl with the wonderful voice, golden hair, and smiling face. Was it on her account that the house was illumined? And was she there, moving among her guests, and delighting all by her charming manner? It did seem so, and a sense of loneliness came upon him and his hands gripped hard upon the spokes of the wheel. He longed to go ashore that he might peer in through a window and behold her radiant beauty. Never before had any woman made such an impression upon Nat. He had been too much taken up with other things to think about women. A noble ship had always been his great love. Now, however, his heart was divided. There was a girl, living over there in the Creek House, who had woven a mystic spell around him. He had never spoken a word to her, but that made no difference. He was really in love with her. But what would such a girl think about him, a common river boatman? Were he the captain of a fine ocean clipper it might be different.

Nat thought of all this as he passed Oak Point, and the lighted house disappeared from view. But he could not get it out of his mind as the Scud plowed her way past the Belleisle, Spoon and Long Islands, the Washademoak, and the Jemseg where the river was narrow and greater care was necessary.

The first streak of dawn was visible beyond the eastern hills as Tom stuck his head up from the cabin.

“What’s the meanin’ of this?” he demanded.

“Meaning of what?” Nat asked.

“Lettin’ me sleep so long, of course.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that, Tom. I’ve been having a fine time all by myself. You needed the sleep, so quit your growling. Here, take the wheel.”

Nat did not at once go below, but went forward to see how the passenger was making out. Expecting to find him stretched out upon the deck asleep, he was surprised to see nothing but the quilt lying there. He looked around, straining his eyes through the gloom, thinking the man might be lying or sitting somewhere else. But not a sign of him could he behold.

With a great fear tugging at his heart, he hurried aft and notified Tom.

“Not there?” the latter asked in surprise. “What’s become of him?”

“That’s what I’d like to know. I’ll get the lantern and have a thorough search.”

But even with the lantern, Nat was not rewarded. He went back again to Tom’s side, carrying a coat and a hat.

“I’m afraid he’s drowned, Tom. Poor fellow! I found these near the port rail. I did not see them at first.”

Tom looked at the garments, and his face was very serious.

“Couldn’t swim a stroke, so he said.”

“And he was so afraid of the water.”

“He must have tumbled overboard. Mebbe he was walking in his sleep.”

“But I didn’t hear any splash.”

“That’s queer. Ye sartinly would have heard somethin’.”

“I surely would, for it was very still all night.”

“Didn’t do any dozin’ at the wheel, eh?”

“No. Do you think we would be here now if I had?”

“Not likely. But it’s queer how that feller went overboard an’ ye didn’t hear him when he hit the water. An’ we don’t know his name.”

“I should have asked him.”

“S’pose ye search the pockets of his coat. Mebbe ye’ll find a clue there.”

Nat did so, but found nothing.

“They’re all empty,” Tom mused. “That’s queer, too. Now, a man generally has his pockets stuffed with all sorts of things. Mine are, anyway. I wonder who he was. It was silly of us not to ask him his name.”

“I thought of doing so at first. But to tell you the truth, I took such a dislike to the fellow after he had been on board for a while that I didn’t care who he was.”

“Same with me, Nat. He talked too much. But fer all that, we made a mistake. We let him come on board as a passenger, an’ now that he’s drowned, what will we say? We’ll have to report to the police, an’ it’ll seem mighty strange if we can’t tell the feller’s name. It’ll look s’picious. In all the years of my boatin’ I’ve never run up ag’inst anything like this before. It’d be no use to turn back, I s’pose, an’ look fer him.”

“No, Tom. We were below Caton’s Island when he went forward, and that’s the last we saw of him. In fact, I forgot all about him for some time when I saw the Creek House all lighted up. There must have been a party there last night, for every window was ablaze with light.”

“Ye don’t say so! Wish I’d seen it.”

“I wish now you had. I was tempted to call you, but didn’t like to disturb you. Anyway, it was something unusual.”

Nat went below and prepared breakfast. He was greatly disturbed over the accident, and racked his brain as to some solution to the mystery. Tom stood at the wheel, puffing steadily at his old clay pipe. He was thinking hard, and his faded gray eyes contained a far-away expression.

“Queer, queer,” he muttered. “Why in time didn’t that feller make a splash when he went overboard? An’ if he was awake, why didn’t he yelp?”