Bindloss Harold
The Secret of the Reef

“Can’t do it,” Moran said grimly. “The way the wind is, the drift ice will be packed solid along the shore to-morrow.”

They sat silent for a while. There was only one thing to be done, but they shrank from indicating it and owning their defeat. At last Jimmy made a gesture of resignation.

“Square away; our course is south,” he said.

Moran nodded silently and went up through the scuttle, and Jimmy threw himself down on the locker while Bethune lighted his pipe. Neither of them spoke until they heard a rattle of blocks and the rush of water along the lee side showed that the Cetacea had swung round.

“Our plans for the winter won’t materialize,” Bethune said; “we’ll be glad to put up at a dollar hotel if we’re lucky enough to get taken on at a mill. However, we can talk about this to-morrow; I don’t feel quite up to it now.”

After a curt sign of agreement, Jimmy pulled a damp sail over him and, although he had not expected to do so, presently went to sleep.

When Moran wakened him to take his turn at the helm it was blowing hard and bitterly cold. Settling himself as far as he could in the shelter of the coaming, he began his dreary watch. Long, white-topped seas raced after the sloop, ranging upon her weather quarter, while the spray she flung aloft beat in heavy showers on Jimmy’s slicker. He could scarcely see her length ahead, and knew that he was running a serious risk if there was ice about; but he thought she would not be much safer if he hove her to, and, fixing his eyes on the compass, he let her go.

After exhausting toil and many hardships, their search had failed, and he was too jaded and depressed to wonder whether it would ever be resumed. They were going back bankrupt; he could not see how they were even to retain possession of the sloop. At the best, they could make no use of her until the spring. The outlook was black, and what intensified the gloom was that Jimmy now recognized that since Bethune had first broached the scheme he had been buoyed up by a faint but strongly alluring hope. He had not allowed his mind to dwell on it, but it had hovered in the background, beckoning him on. After all, there had been a certain chance that their project would succeed, and in that case his share of the salvage should have been sufficient to set him on his feet. There were many openings in western Canada for a man with energy and means enough to give him a start, and Jimmy did not see why he should not prosper. Then when he had begun to make progress he might renew his acquaintance with Ruth Osborne.

He had thought of her often, and looking back on their voyage, he ventured to believe that he had to some extent won her favor. He recollected trivial incidents, odd words and glances, which could not have been altogether without their significance. Could he lift himself nearer her social level, it was not impossible that he should gain her love. The thought of this had driven him stubbornly on.

Now he had failed disastrously. He was going back a ruined man. The best he could hope for was that by stern self-denial and rough work on the wharves or in the sawmills, he might earn enough to discharge his debt to the storekeeper who had trusted him. Beyond that there was nothing to look forward to. He must try to forget Ruth.

Jimmy’s heart sank as he sat shivering at the helm while the bitter spray whirled about him and the sloop lurched on through the darkness, chased by foaming seas.

CHAPTER XIX – A DANGEROUS SECRET

A cold snap had suddenly fallen over the northern half of Vancouver Island, and tall pines and unpaved streets were white with frozen snow. A chilling wind swept round Jaques’ store and rattled the loose windows; tiny icicles formed a fringe about the eaves; but the neat little back room, with its polished lamp and its glowing stove, seemed to Jimmy and his comrades luxuriously bright and warm. Supper had been cleared away, and the group sat about the table discussing what could now be done, after the failure of the second attempt to recover the gold.

Jaques leaned his head on his hand, with his elbow resting on the table; Mrs. Jaques sat opposite him, her eyes fixed intently on Bethune, who was the spokesman for the party. Jimmy, with a gloomy expression, gazed toward the one window, where a frozen pine bough occasionally scraped against the pane with a rasping sound that was heard above the rattle of the sashes. Moran, with a downcast face, sat where the lamplight fell full upon him.

There was silence for a few moments, broken only by the cheery crackle of the stove. Then Jaques spoke.

“We might as well thrash the thing out from the beginning,” he said. “The first matter to be decided is what had better be done with your boat.”

“That raises another point,” asserted Bethune. “What we do with her now depends on our plans for the future, and they’re not made yet.”

“Then suppose we consider that you’re going back to try again in the spring?”

Jimmy looked at Mrs. Jaques, and fancied that her expression was encouraging.

“You’re taking it for granted that we can get out of debt. If such a thing were possible, we’d haul her up and strip her for the winter with the first big tides.”

“Not here,” Jaques said pointedly. “For one thing, she’d be spotted, and you’ll see why you had better avoid that if you’ll listen.”

“I see one good reason now,” Bethune answered with a rueful grin. “You’re not our only creditor, and the other fellow isn’t likely to show us much consideration.”

“Let that go for the present. Do you know any lonely creek some distance off where she’d lie safe and out of sight?”

“I dare say we could find one,” Jimmy replied.

“Then I’m going to talk. Some time after you left, a man from Victoria called on me. Said he was an accountant and specialized on the development of small businesses. He’d undertake to collect doubtful accounts, show his clients how to keep their books, and buy on the best terms, or sell out their business, if they wanted; in fact, he said that some of his city friends thought of trying to make a merger arrangement with the grocery stores in the small Island ports.”

“No doubt it seemed an opportunity for getting a good price for your store,” Bethune suggested.

“I wasn’t keen. Things had improved since you were here, and trade was looking up. However, I showed the man my books, and I saw that he was especially interested when he came to your account. Asked me did I know that you were a remittance man who had forfeited his allowance and that your partner was a steamboat mate who’d been fired out of his ship. I told him that I was aware of it; and he said the chances were steep against your making good. Then he gave me some useful hints and went away.”

“That’s interesting,” Bethune commented. “Did you hear anything more from him?”

“I did; not long ago he sent me an offer for my business as it stands, with all unsettled claims and liabilities. When I got a Vancouver drummer I know to make inquiries, he said that it ought to be a safe proposition – the money was good.”

“Ah! It looks as if somebody thought us worth powder and shot. Did you take his offer?”

“No, sir! I stood off, for two reasons. I knew that the buyers either foresaw a boom in the Island trade, in which case it would pay me to hold on, or they’d some pretty strong grounds for wanting to get hold of you. On thinking it over, I didn’t see my way to help them.”

“Thanks. I wonder whether Mrs. Jaques had any say in the matter?”

“She certainly had,” Jaques admitted fondly. “She thought it wouldn’t be the square thing to give you away, and that to see you through might be the best in the end.”

“We’re grateful; but I’m not sure that she was wise. It’s obvious that there was something crooked about the wreck, and what you have told us implies that some men with money are anxious to cover up their tracks. I suspect they’ve grown richer since the bogus gold was shipped, and might be willing to spend a good sum to keep the matter dark. The fellow who called on you probably knew nothing of this; he’d be merely acting for them on commission.”

None of the others spoke for the next minute. The situation demanded thought, for they were people of no consequence, and they did not doubt that men with means were plotting against them.

“You seem to have got hold of a dangerous secret,” Mrs. Jaques said, breaking the silence.

“An important one, at least,” Bethune agreed. “It might, perhaps, get us into trouble; but our position’s pretty strong. I’ll admit, though, that I can’t see what use we had better make of it.”

Mrs. Jaques watched him closely.

“I suppose it has struck you that you might make a bargain with the people who insured the gold? They’d probably pay you well if you put the screw on them.”

Jimmy started and frowned, but Bethune motioned to him to be silent.

“I wonder whether you really thought we’d take that course, ma’am?” he asked.

“No,” she smiled; “I did not. But what’s the alternative?”

“We might go to the underwriters and see what we could get from them. I suppose that’s what we ought to do; but I’d rather wait. If we can clean out the strong-room, we’ll have the whole thing in our hands.”

“In your hands, you mean.”

“No; I meant what I said. My suggestion is that your husband should relinquish his claim on us, and take a small share in the venture. If he’d do so, we could go back next spring. It’s a proposition I wouldn’t make before, but things have changed, and we want another man.”

“Well,” said Jaques, “I half expected this, and I’ve been doing some figuring. The mills are booked full of orders for dressed lumber, there’s a pulp factory going up, and I’m doing better now that trade’s coming to the town. Still, I see a risk.”

“So do I,” Bethune replied. “We’re three irresponsible adventurers without a dollar to our credit, and we have men of weight and business talent up against us. It’s possible that they may break us; but I think we have a fighting chance.” He turned to Mrs. Jaques. “What’s your opinion?”

“Oh, I love adventure! And somehow I have confidence that you’ll make good.”

“Thank you! It’s evident that the opposition can do nothing at the wreck when we’re on the spot, and the ice will keep the field for us while we’re down here; but we must get back before they can send a steamer in the spring. In the meanwhile, we have the bags of gold to dispose of.”

“That’s a difficulty,” said Jaques. “They certainly ought to be handed to the underwriters.”

“Just so; but as soon as we part with them we give our secret away. We must stick to them and say nothing until we finish the job.”

“Wouldn’t it be dangerous? You have cut one bag and broken into the box. If the fellows who are working against you found that out, they’d claim you had stolen the gold. Then you’d be in a tight place.”

“The experience wouldn’t be unusual,” Bethune answered with a laugh. “We must take our chances, and we’ll put the stuff in your safe. What most encourages me to go on is that there were several different consignments of gold sent by the steamer and insured, and I can’t take it for granted that all the shippers were in the conspiracy. There’s no reason to suspect the contents of the remaining cases.”

“You hadn’t made out the marks when I last asked you about them,” Jimmy broke in.

“No; they’re hardly distinguishable; but I now think I have a clue. I’m inclined to believe the case was shipped by a man named Osborne. His name’s in the vessel’s manifest, and he has been associated with her owner for a long time. I found that out when I was considering the salvage scheme.”

Jimmy started.

“His Christian name?”

“Henry. I understand he has a house on the shore of Puget Sound. You look as if you knew him!”

Jimmy said nothing for a few moments, though he saw that the others were watching him curiously. Bethune’s suggestion had given him a shock, because it seemed impossible that the pleasant, cultured gentleman he had met on board the Empress should be guilty of common fraud. Besides, it was preposterous to suppose that Ruth Osborne could be the daughter of a rogue.

“I do know him; that is, I met him on our last voyage. But you’re mistaken,” he said firmly.

“It’s possible,” Bethune admitted. “Time will show. I’ve only a suspicion to act on.”

“How do you mean to act on it? What do you propose to do?”

Bethune gave him a searching glance.

“Nothing, until we have emptied the strong-room and we’ll have to consider what’s most advisable then. In the meanwhile, I expect the opposition will let us feel their hand; there may be developments during the winter.” He turned to Jaques. “We’ll lay the sloop up out of sight with the next big tides and then go south and look for work. In the spring we’ll ask you to grubstake us, and get back to the wreck as soon as the weather permits. I think that’s our best plan.”

The others agreed, and soon afterward the party broke up. As they went back to the boat Bethune turned to Jimmy.

“Do you feel inclined to tell me what you know about Osborne?” he asked.

“I only know that you’re on the wrong track. He isn’t the man to join in a conspiracy of the kind you’re hinting at.”

Bethune did not reply, and they went on in silence down the snowy street. Jimmy found it hard to believe that Osborne had had any share in the fraud, but a doubt was beginning to creep into his mind. For a few minutes he felt tempted to abandon the search for the gold; but he reflected that he was bound to his comrades and could not persuade them to let the matter drop. Besides, if by any chance Bethune’s suspicion proved correct, he might be of some service to Miss Osborne. No matter what discovery might be made, she should not suffer; Jimmy was resolved on that.

Leaving port the next day, they found a safe berth for the sloop; and when they had hauled her up on the beach they walked to a Siwash rancherie, where they engaged one of the Indians to take them back in a canoe. Reaching Vancouver by steamboat, they had some trouble in finding work, because the approach of winter had driven down general laborers and railroad construction gangs from the high, inland ranges to the sheltered coast. There was, however, no frost in the seaboard valleys, and at last Jimmy and his friends succeeded in hiring themselves to a contractor who was clearing land.

It was not an occupation they would have taken up from choice, but as their pockets were empty they could not be particular. The firs the choppers felled were great in girth, and as Moran was the only member of the party who could use the ax, the others were set to work sawing up the massive logs with a big crosscut. Dragging the double-handled saw backward and forward through the gummy wood all day was tiring work, while, to make things worse, it rained most of the time and the clearing was churned into a slough by the gangs of toiling men. When they left it to haul out a log that had fallen beyond its edge they were forced to plunge waist-deep into dripping brush and withered fern.

For all that, Bethune and Jimmy found the use of the crosscut easy by comparison with their next task, for they were presently sent with one or two others to build up the logs into piles for burning. The masses of timber were ponderous, and the men, floundering up to the knees in trampled mire, laboriously rolled them into place along lines of skids. Then they must be raised into a pyramid three or four tiers high, and getting on the last row was a herculean task carried out at the risk of being crushed to death by the logs overpowering them and running back.

Jimmy and Bethune stuck to it because they had no other recourse, toiling, wet through, in the slough all day and dragging themselves back, dripping, dejected, and worn out, to the sleeping shack at night. The building was rudely put together, and by no means watertight. Its earth floor was slimy, the stove scarcely kept it warm, while it was filled with a rank smell of cooking, stale tobacco, and saturated clothes. The bunks, ranged like a shelf along the walls, were damp and smeared with wet soil from the garments the men seldom took off; and Jimmy was now and then wakened by the drips from the leaky roof falling on his face. He felt that once he was able to lay them down he would never wish to see a cant-pole or a crosscut-saw again.

But the deliverance he longed for came in a way he did not anticipate.

CHAPTER XX – HOUNDED

Clammy mist hung about the edge of the clearing, veiling the somber spires of the pines, but leaving the rows of straight trunks uncovered below a straight-drawn line. It was a gloomy morning. Jimmy, standing with Bethune and several others beside a growing log-pile, stopped a moment to rest his aching muscles. He was wet through, and his arms and back were sore from the previous day’s exertions. Two strong skids, placed so as to form an inclined bridge, led to the top of the log-pile and the soil between them was trodden into a wet, slippery mess in which it was difficult to keep one’s footing. A length sawed off a massive trunk lay across the ends of the skids, and Jimmy and his companions were trying to roll it into its place on top of the previously laid tier.

Getting their poles beneath it they forced it upward, little by little. When they got half-way, a pole slipped, and for a few anxious moments the men strained every muscle to prevent the mass from rolling back, while their companion found a fresh rest for his pole. The log must be held: they could not jump clear in time. Breathing hard, with the sweat dripping from them, they raised it a foot or two, until it seemed possible to lift it on to the lower logs by a strenuous effort. They made the attempt; and one of the skids broke. Laying their shoulders beneath the mass, they struggled with it for their lives. If it overpowered them, they would be borne backward and crushed. With one support gone, it seemed impossible that they could lift it into place. For a few moments they held it, but did no more, though Jimmy felt the veins swell on his forehead and heard a strange buzzing in his ears. His mouth was dry, his heart beat painfully, and he knew he could not stand the cruel strain much longer. But there was no help available. They must conquer or be maimed.

“Lift! You have got to land her, boys!” cried somebody in a half-choked voice. And they made their last effort.

For a moment the mass hung in the balance, and then rose an inch. Again they hove it upward before their muscles could relax, and now its weight began to rest upon the lower logs. Another thrust rolled it slowly forward – and the danger was past.

Though the incident was not of an unusual character, Jimmy sat down limply in the wet fern to recover breath, and he was still resting when the foreman came up and beckoned him.

“We’ll not want you and your partner after to-night,” he said abruptly.

Jimmy looked at him in surprise.

“As you haven’t found any fault with us, might one ask the reason?”

“You might; but I can’t tell you. There it is – you’re fired. I’ve got my orders.”

The Canadian is often laconic, and Jimmy nodded.

“Very well,” he said; “we’ll go now. This isn’t a luxurious job.”

“As you like,” replied the foreman. “The boss’s clerk is in the shack; I’ll give him your time.”

Jimmy followed him to the office and drew his pay, but the clerk seemed unable to explain his dismissal.

“I guess it’s because we can’t get our value out of the boys in this rain,” he said evasively.

“But why single us out?” Jimmy persisted. “I don’t know that I want to stay; but I’m curious. Our gang has put up as many logs as the others.”

“I’ve no time for talking!” the clerk exclaimed. “Take your money and quit!”

Bethune drew Jimmy away and they crossed the clearing to where Moran was at work. He showed no great surprise when he heard their news.

“Well,” he said, “I’ll finish the week here and then follow you to the city. We’ll need the money.”

“All right,” Bethune agreed; “if you get the chance of staying; but that’s doubtful. You know where to find us.”

They went back to the sleeping shack to get their clothes.

“What did you mean when you said he might not have the chance?” Jimmy asked.

“I have a suspicion that Hank will get his time in the next day or two. The boss wouldn’t want to make the thing too obvious, and Hank’s a good chopper. There are some awkward trees to get down where he’s working.”

“But why should they want to get rid of him – or us?”

Bethune smiled grimly.

“I think we’re marked men. We’ll find out presently whether I’m right.”

Bethune’s forebodings proved correct, for only a few days elapsed before Moran joined him and Jimmy in Vancouver. After spending a week in searching for employment they got work with a lumber-rafting gang and kept it for a fortnight, when they were dismissed without any convincing reason being given.

On the evening after their return to the city they sat in a corner of the comfortless lobby at the hotel. It was quiet there because the other boarders lounged in tilted chairs before the big windows with their hats on and their feet supported by the radiator pipes, watching the passers-by.

“I came across the fellow we got the pumps from this afternoon,” Jimmy remarked. “The last time I saw him he was fairly civil, but he’s turned abusive now. Wanted to know when we were going to pay him the rest of his money, and made some pointed observations about our character.”

“That won’t hurt us,” laughed Bethune. “As we have nothing to give him and the sloop’s safely hidden, he can’t make much trouble. I heard something more interesting. An acquaintance of mine mentioned that they had a big lot of lumber to cut at the Clanch mill and wanted a few more men. If we could get a job there, we might hold it.”

“It seems to me we can’t hold anything,” Jimmy grumbled. “Why that?”

Bethune chuckled in a manner that indicated that he knew more than he meant to tell.

“Boldness often pays, and I imagine that our mysterious enemies won’t think of looking for us at the Clanch mill. We’ll go out there to-morrow.”

They found it a long walk over a wet road, for soon after they left the city rain began to fall. On applying at the mill gate, they were sent to the office, and Jimmy was standing, wet and moody, by the counter, waiting until a supercilious clerk could attend to him, when an inner door opened and a young man came out. Jimmy started as he recognized the yachtsman they had met on the island; but Aynsley moved forward with a smile.

“This is a pleasant surprise! I’m glad you thought of looking me up.”

“As a matter of fact, we are looking for work,” Bethune said laconically.

Aynsley laughed and indicated the door behind him.

“Go in and sit down. I’ll join you in a minute or two, and we’ll see what can be done.”

They entered his private office, which was smartly furnished, and, being very wet, felt some diffidence about using the polished hardwood chairs. The throb of engines and the scream of saws made it unlikely that their conversation could be overheard, and Jimmy turned to Bethune with a frown.

“You made a curious remark about boldness paying, when you suggested coming here. Did you know that young man was in charge?”

“No; it’s an unexpected development. But I’ll confess that I knew the mill belonged to his father.”

“Clay?” Jimmy exclaimed. “The owner of the wreck?”

“Her late owner. She belongs to the underwriters now. It seems to me the situation has its humorous side; I mean our getting a job from the man who’s been hunting us down.”

“You suspected Osborne not long ago,” Jimmy said shortly.

“They’re partners; but, from what I’ve gathered, it’s more likely that Clay’s the man who’s on our trail. We helped him to follow it by registering with an employment agent – and that makes me wonder whether it would be an advantage to change our names?”

“I’ll stick to mine!” said Jimmy; and Moran declared his intention of doing the same.

“After all, it’s a feeble trick and not likely to cheat the fellow we have to deal with,” Bethune agreed. “He has obviously got a pretty accurate description of us.”

“But would a man of his kind spend his time in tracking us? And wouldn’t it lead to talk?”

Bethune laughed.

“He’ll act through agents; there are plenty of broken-down adventurers in Vancouver who’d be glad to do his dirty work. These cities are full of impecunious wastrels; I was one myself.”

“Perhaps we’d better clear out,” suggested Jimmy. “I’d hate to take the fellow’s pay.”

“You needn’t feel diffident. If it’s any consolation, the mill foreman will get full value out of you. However – ” Bethune broke off as Aynsley came in.

“The fishing doesn’t seem to have been very profitable,” he said, putting a box on the table. “Have a cigar.”

“All we caught hardly paid for the net,” Bethune replied. “On the whole, I don’t think we’ll smoke. Perhaps we had better not, so to speak, confuse our relations at the start. You see, though we didn’t know you were the manager, we came along in the hope that you might have an opening for three active men.”

“If I hadn’t, I’d try to make one,” Aynsley answered. “However, as it happens, we do need a few extra hands; but I’m afraid I’ve only rough work to offer.”

“It couldn’t be much rougher than we’ve been doing. I believe we can make ourselves useful; and that Hank here could move more lumber in a day than any man in your mill. But of course you’re under no obligation to take us.”

“We’ll let that go; I need help. You can begin with the stacking gang, but something better may turn up. Now tell me something about your northern trip.”

Bethune told him as much as he thought advisable, and, although he used tact, Aynsley gave him a keen glance now and then, as if he suspected some reserve. Before Aynsley could make a comment, Bethune stood up.

“I’ve no doubt you’re a busy man,” he said, “and we mustn’t waste your time. Shall we make a start in the morning?”

“You can begin right now.”

Aynsley rang a bell and handed them over to his foreman.

For some weeks the men remained contentedly at the mill. The work was hard, but the pay was fair, and the boarding arrangements good, and Aynsley seldom failed to give them a pleasant word as he passed. Indeed, Jimmy felt a warm liking for him; and it was not by his wish but by Bethune’s that their respective stations as employer and workmen remained clearly defined.

One day, when Aynsley had been absent for more than a week, the foreman came to them.

“I’m sorry you’ll have to quit,” he said. “We’re paying off several of the boys.”

“Quit!” Jimmy began indignantly; but he caught Bethune’s warning look and added lamely, “Oh, well; I suppose it’s by Mr. Clay’s orders?”

“No, sir,” the foreman answered unguardedly; “Mr. Aynsley had nothing to do with it. He didn’t even know – ” He broke off abruptly. “Anyhow, you’re fired!”

He turned away from them quickly; and Bethune, sitting down on a pile of lumber, took out his pipe.

“Since I’ve got my notice with no reason given,” he drawled, “I don’t see why I should exhaust myself by carrying heavy planks about. Of course you noticed his statement that Mr. Aynsley was not responsible – though the fellow was afterward sorry he had made it. I’m of the opinion that there’s something to be inferred from his use of our employer’s Christian name, particularly as a big automobile stood at the gate for two hours yesterday. I shouldn’t be surprised to learn that Clay, senior, had examined the pay-roll.”

“What’s the blamed hog aiming at in getting after us like this?” questioned Moran.

Bethune looked thoughtful.

“He may wish to drive us out of the country; but I’m more inclined to believe he means to wear us out, and then make some proposition when he thinks we’re tame enough.”

“He’ll be badly disappointed if he expects we’ll come to terms!” Jimmy strode up and down, his face flushed with anger. “Anyway, I can’t believe that Aynsley knows anything about this.”

“He doesn’t.” Bethune smiled grimly. “I know by experience how the scapegrace son tries to conceal his escapades from his respectable relatives, but I rather think the unprincipled parent who doesn’t want his children to find him out is more ingenious. All this, however, isn’t much to the purpose; we’ll have the boys down on us unless we clear the lumber from the saws.”

They left the mill the next morning and tramped back to Vancouver in a generally dejected mood.

“What’s to be done now?” asked Jimmy as they reached the outskirts of the city.

“How about going down into the States and trying our luck?” Bethune suggested. “We’d at least be out of Clay’s reach – anywhere but Seattle.”

“What – run!” Jimmy exclaimed indignantly. “I stay right here!”

“Me too!” grunted Moran.

Bethune laughed.

“Well, how about turning and charging the enemy? I’ll admit that I’d enjoy a good fight right now – physical or verbal.”

“Won’t do,” objected Moran; “we won’t be well armed until we know just what those other boxes in the strong-room contain. Before we get a chance to find out, I’ve an idea our enemy himself will make a move.”

And he did.