Duncan Norman
The Adventures of Billy Topsail
CHAPTER XXXIV
In Which Tim Tuttle's Shaft Flies Straight for the Mark. The Crews of the Dictator and Lucky Star Declare War, and Captain Hand is Threatened with the Shame of Dishonour, While Young Billy Topsail, Who Has the Solution of the Difficulty, is in the Hold of the Ship
TIM TUTTLE'S design against the honour of Captain Hand and of the firm of Armstrong & Son promised well. The following day broke fine; and, early in the morning, the crew of the Dictator was turned out to load the "fat" which had been left on the floe over night. About one hundred men were sent to the ice; the rest were kept on the ship to stow away the "tows" as they came aboard. Among the latter was young Billy Topsail, who was ordered to the hold the moment he appeared on deck.
The party under Bill o' Burnt Bay was first on the ground. Presently, the men from the Lucky Star arrived. For a time, pleasant words passed between the crews. Soon, however, a group of Lucky Star hunters gathered out of hearing of the Dictator's crew. Their voices, which had been low at first, rose angrily, and to such a pitch that the attention of Bill o' Burnt Bay was attracted. He observed their suspicious glances, their wrathful faces, their threatening gestures; and he promptly surmised that trouble of a familiar kind was brewing.
It was evident that there was to be a dispute over the possession of certain of the "tows." The rights of that dispute Bill was not in a position to determine. So far as he knew – and he was bound to stand squarely upon his own knowledge – there had been no wrong-doing on the part of his men; and, being a man who never failed in his duty to the firm, he resolved that not an ounce of "fat" which then lay under a flag of Armstrong & Son should be yielded to the Lucky Star until a higher authority than he gave the word. Needless to say, that is precisely what Tuttle expected of him.
Moving quietly, lest he should provoke the dispute, Bill warned his men to be on the alert. And it was not long before the crew of the Lucky Star, with a stout fellow at their head, advanced threateningly.
"Look here, you, Bill o' Burnt Bay," shouted the leader, "some o' your men have been stealin' our tows."
"Oh, come, now, Johnny Tott," Bill replied, good-humouredly, "that ain't our way o' gettin' a cargo."
The men of the Dictator gathered behind Bill. Bill would have been better pleased had they gathered with less haste, had there been less of the battle-light in their eyes, had they held their gaffs less tightly – but all that, of course, was beyond his control; he could only make sure to have them there to defend the rights of the firm.
"You can't scare me!" Johnny Tott flashed, angered by what he understood to be a display of force, but still trying to keep his temper. "We left twenty-two tows here last night, an' we find sixteen this mornin'. Who took the odd six?"
Bill was bent on having the question referred to the captains of the ships. They might settle it as they would. As for him – knowing from experience how quickly such encounters might come, and how violent they might be – all he desired was peaceably to protect the interests of his employers, and of the men, who had a percentage interest in every seal killed.
"I don't want t' scare you, Johnny Tott," he replied, quietly. "I thinks you've counted your flags wrong. Now, why can't we just – "
Then came an unfortunate interruption. It was a long, derisive cat-call from one of Bill's men – none other than Tim Tuttle. That was more than could be borne by men who were confident of their rights.
"Thieves!" half a dozen of the crew of the Lucky Star retorted. "A pack o' thieves!"
It was a critical moment. The Dictator's men, too, believed themselves to be in the right; and there was a limit to what they, too, could suffer. To be called thieves was perilously near that limit, already provoked, as they were, by what they thought a bold attempt to rob them of their seals.
Bill turned quickly on his own men. "Stand back!" he cried, knowing well that a rush impended.
"Thieves! Thieves!" taunted the crew of the Lucky Star.
"Keep your men quiet!" Bill roared to Johnny Tott. "There'll be trouble if you don't."
The Lucky Star men were outnumbered; but not so far outnumbered that their case would be hopeless in a hand-to-hand fight. Nevertheless, it was the part of wisdom for Johnny Tott, who was himself animated by the best motives, to keep them quiet. He faced them, berated them roundly, and threatened to "knock the first man down" who should dare to continue the disturbance. Thus encouraged, Bill o' Burnt Bay addressed his crew briefly and to the point.
"No nonsense, men!" he growled. "We wants no bloodshed here. The first man that passes me," he added, in such a way that not a man of them doubted he would make good his word, "may get hurt, an' badly hurt, afore he knows it."
It was no time for gentle dealing. Bill had strong, angry men to deal with; and the responsibility of keeping them from wronging themselves and their fellows sat heavily upon him. Confident, however, that he had them in check, he advanced to parley with Tott. All would doubtless have gone smoothly had there not been a designing man on Bill's side. That man was Tuttle, to whom the course of events was not pleasing. Perceiving, now, that an encounter was likely to be warded off, he determined to precipitate it.
"Who called me a thief?" he burst out.
Then he broke away from his fellows, and ran towards the crew of the Lucky Star, with his gaff upraised. But Bill o' Burnt Bay was quick as a flash to intercept him. He tripped Tuttle up with his gaff, fairly leaped upon the prostrate form, caught the man by the collar, dragged him back and flung him at the feet of the crew. And, meantime, the Lucky Star men, who had instantly prepared to meet Tuttle, laughed uproariously. That hearty laugh lightened the situation perceptibly.
"An' here comes Cap'n Black!" shouted one of the men.
Captain Hand of the Dictator, too, was on his way over the ice. Both skippers had observed the cessation of the work and the separation of the men into two hostile parties. Familiar as they were with such disputes, they needed no message to tell them that their presence was urgently needed on the floe. They came over the ice at full speed, at the same time trying to get at the merits of the quarrel from the men who ran to meet them; and, being fat sea-captains, both of them, and altogether unused to hurried locomotion afoot, they were quite out of breath when they met.
The skipper of the Lucky Star was a florid, peppery little man, much given to standing upon his dignity.
"Cap'n Hand," he puffed, "this is – an out – rage, sir! Is this the way – "
"'Scuse me – Cap'n B-Black – sir," the skipper of the Dictator panted, his little red eyes almost hidden by his bushy brows; "but – I'm wonder – ful s'prised – that – "
Captain Black drew a long breath, and proceeded more easily, but still with magnificent dignity. "I'm wonderful surprised t' know, sir," he said, "that this is the way Cap'n Hand makes a good v'y'ge of it every year. I never knew how before, sir."
"I'd have you t' know, sir," returned Captain Hand, bristling ominously, "that I 'lows no man t' call me a thief."
"I'd have you t' know, sir, that your men have stolen my fat."
"An' I'll have you t' know, sir, that that's t' be proved."
"Cap'n Hand, sir," declared Captain Black, swelling like a pouter-pigeon the meanwhile, "you whole crew outnumbers mine nigh two t' one, or I'd load every pound o' fat on the ice on my ship. But I tells you now, sir, that I'll have the law o' you at St. John's. If you touch them six tows I'll have you sent t' coolie for a thief, sir, if there's an honest jury in the land! Mark my words, sir, I'll do it!"
The upshot of it all was, when both captains had cut a ridiculous figure for a considerable time (and had found it out), that the crews were withdrawn to the ships, ostensibly for dinner, but really that they might be kept apart while their blood was heated. A conference was appointed for three o'clock in the afternoon; and in the interval the captains were more fully and more accurately to inform themselves by examining their respective crews. This was a very sensible agreement. So far as it went, Captain Hand was content; but, being a wise and experienced man, he foresaw that an amicable settlement of the difficulty was extremely doubtful.
"I hopes, anyhow, that 'twill not come t' blows," he told Archie, as they trudged along, for his position made it impossible for him to confide in anybody else. "'Twill be a dreadful disgrace if it comes t' blows. An' maybe 'twill be something worse."
When the men reached the Dictator, Billy Topsail was waiting on deck, keen as the rest of them to know what had happened on the ice. He had a wholesome conscience, and a reasonable courage; he had fully determined to do his duty, and was about to attract Archie Armstrong's attention – Archie was to be his first confidant – when Tuttle slipped quietly to his side, and laid a hand on his shoulder. Billy had no need to look up; he knew whose hand that was, and what the firm, increasing pressure meant.
"You better go t' the fo'c's'le, lad," Tuttle whispered in his ear.
CHAPTER XXXV
In Which the Issue is Determined
BILLY Topsail went to the forecastle as he was bid. With Tuttle so near, he seemed not to have the will to carry out his purpose. He passed Archie on the way forward, even responded to his nod and merry greeting with a wistful smile; but said nothing, for he felt that Tuttle's cold gray eyes were fixed upon him. Archie marked that strange smile, and thought – it was just a fleeting thought – that Billy must be in trouble; he was about to stop, but put the solicitous question off – until another time.
Aboard the Lucky Star, Captain Black called Johnny Tott to his cabin. It was a serious moment for both, as both knew. The hunter realized that the captain would act upon his statement, and that there would be no return, once the course was taken. Moreover, he knew that he would have to take oath, and support that oath with evidence, in the court-room at St. John's.
"Now, John, I wants just the plainest kind o' truth," the captain began, for, shorn of his exaggerated dignity, he was a fair, honest-hearted man. "I've been friends with Cap'n Hand ever since we was young, an' I've liked him every hour o' that time, an' I've believed in him every minute; so I'm in no humour t' have a fallin' out with him. It'll go hard with the man who wrongfully leads me into that. Come, now, what's the truth o' all this?"
"The truth, sir," Johnny replied, slowly, "is this: We left twenty-two tows on the ice last night, every one with a Bryan & Company flag flyin' over it, an' we found but sixteen this mornin'. That's all I knows about it."
"Did you make the count alone?"
"No, sir. They was three others, which," most importantly, "I can pro-dooce any minute."
"All right, Johnny," said the captain, striking the table with his fist. "I believe you. You won't find Cap'n Black go back on his crew. I'll have that fat, if I have t' fight for it!"
While this was passing, Captain Hand had summoned Bill o' Burnt Bay, Ebenezer Bowsprit and two or three other trustworthy men to his cabin, and requested Archie Armstrong (the good captain seemed to consider the lad in some measure a representative of the firm) to hear the interview. One and all, for themselves and for the crew, they earnestly denied knowledge of any trickery. They regretted, they said, that the incident had occurred; but they believed that the seals were the property of the ship, and they hoped that the captain would not "see them robbed."
"But, Bill," said the captain, hopelessly, "you didn't count the tows?"
"No, sir," Bill answered, promptly, "I'm bound t' say I didn't. After your two recall guns, sir, we was in a hurry t' get aboard. 'Twas a fault, I knows, sir, but it can't be helped now. I don't know that anybody changed the flags. I hasn't any reason t' think so. So I believe that the fat's ours."
"Well, men," the captain concluded, "that's just my position. I knows nothin' t' the contrary; so I got t' believe that the fat's ours. You'll tell the crew that I'll stand by them. We'll take that fat, whatever they tries t' do, an' we'll let the courts decide afterwards. That's all."
There was fret and uncertainty for the captain after the men trooped out. He was an honest man, seeking the right, but not sure that he was right. It seemed to him that, whatever the outcome, his reputation and that of the firm would be tarnished. In a trial at law, the crew of the Lucky Star and the firm of Alexander Bryan & Company would appear as the aggrieved parties. Men would say – yes, men would even publicly take oath to it – that Captain Hand was a thief, and that the firm of Armstrong & Son abused its power and wealth in sustaining him. Not everybody would believe that, of course; but many would – and the odium of the charge would never disappear, let the verdict of the jury be what it might.
"B'y," he said to Archie, in great distress, "'tis a tryin' place t' be in. I wants t' wrong nobody. 'Twould wound me sore t' wrong Cap'n Black, who's always been my friend. But I got t' have that fat. A sealin' skipper that goes back on his crew is not fit for command. I must stand by the men. If I had an enemy, b'y," he added, "an' that enemy wanted t' ruin me, he couldn't choose a better – "
Captain Hand stopped dead and stared at the table – stared, and gaped, until his appearance was altogether out of the common.
"What's the matter, cap'n?" asked Archie, alarmed.
At that moment, however, there was a knock at the door. Billy Topsail came in, pale and wide-eyed; but the sight of Archie seemed to compose him.
"I got t' tell you about Tim Tuttle," he began, hurriedly. "I hears there's goin' t' be a fight, an' – an' – I got t' tell you that I seed him change the flags on the tows."
"What!" shouted the captain, jumping out of his chair.
And so it all came out. At the end of the talk, Billy Topsail was assured by the smiling captain that he need not fear Tim Tuttle after a word or two had been spoken with him. Bill o' Burnt Bay was summoned, and corroborated Billy's statement that Tuttle was the last man to leave the tows. And Tuttle was the captain's enemy! Everybody knew it. The difficulties were thus all brushed away. The crew would accept the explanation and be content. Tuttle would be ridiculed until he was well punished for the trick that had so nearly succeeded. It was a good ending to the affair – a far better outcome than any man aboard had dared hope for.
"Bill," said the captain, with an odd little smile, "send Tim Tuttle t' Cap'n Black, with my compliments; an' will Cap'n Black be so kind as t' accept my apology, and have a friendly cup o' tea with me immediate?"
Later, when Tuttle left the captain's cabin, after the "word or two" had been spoken, he was not grateful for the generous treatment he had received. He meditated further mischief; but before the second opportunity offered, there happened something which put animosity out of the hearts of all the crew.
CHAPTER XXXVI
It Appears That the Courage and Strength of the Son of a Colonial Knight are to be Tried. The Hunters are Caught in a Great Storm
THE Lucky Star and the Dictator parted company the next day – the former bound for the Labrador coast, the latter in a southerly direction to White Bay. For several days, the Dictator ran here and there among the great floes, attacking small herds; and at the end of a week she had ten thousand seals in her hold. But that cargo did not by any means content Captain Hand. Indeed, he began to fear the voyage would be little better than a failure. Nothing less than twenty thousands pelts would be a profitable "haul" for a vessel of the Dictator's tonnage to carry back to St. John's.
For that reason, perhaps, both the captain and the men were willing to take some risk, when, late one morning, a large herd was sighted on a floe near the coast in the southwest. The danger lay in the weather: it was an unpromising day – cold and dull, and threatening snow and storm. For a time the captain hesitated; but, at last, he determined to land his men in three parties, caution them to be watchful and quick, and himself try to keep the Dictator within easy reach of them all. It really did not appear to be necessary to waste the day merely because the sky was dark over the coast.
Bill o' Burnt Bay's party was landed first. Billy Topsail and Tim Tuttle were members of it; and, as usual, Archie Armstrong attached himself to it. As the Dictator steamed away to land the second crew, and, thence, still further away to land the third, Bill led his men on a trot for the pack, which lay about a mile from the water's edge.
"'Tis a queer day, this," Bill observed to the boys, who trotted in his wake.
"Sure, why?" asked Billy.
"Is it t' snow, or is it not? Can you answer me that? Sure, I most always can tell that little thing, but t'-day I can't."
"'Tis like snow," Billy replied, puzzled, "an' again 'tisn't. 'Tis queer, that!"
"I hopes the captain keeps the ship at hand," said Bill. "'Tis not t' my taste t' spend a night on the floe in a storm."
To be lost in a blizzard is a dreaded danger, and not at all an uncommon experience. Many crews, lost from the ship in a blinding storm, have been carried out to sea with the floe, and never heard of afterwards. Bill o' Burnt Bay lost his own father in that way, and himself had had two narrow escapes from the same fate. So he scanned the sky anxiously, not only as he ran along at the head of his sixty men, but from time to time through the day, until the excitement of the hunt put all else out of his head.
It was a profitable hunt. The men laboured diligently and rapidly. So intent on the work in hand were they that none observed the darkening sky and the gusts of wind that broke from behind the rocky coast. Thus, towards evening, when the work was over save the sculping and lashing, dusk caught them unaware. Bill o' Burnt Bay looked up to find that the snow was flying, that it was black as ink in the northeast, and that the wind was blowing in long, angry gusts.
"Men," he cried, "did you ever see a sky like that?"
The men watched the heavy clouds in the northeast rise and swiftly spread.
"Sure, it looks bad," muttered one.
"Make haste with the sculpin'," Bill ordered. "They's wonderful heavy weather comin' up. I mind me a time when a blizzard come out of a sky like that."
The dusk grew deeper, the snow fell thicker, the wind rose; and all this Bill observed while he worked. Groups of men lashed their tows and started off for the edge of the floe where the steamer was to return for them.
"Lash your tows, b'ys," shouted Bill, to the rest of the men. "Leave the rest go. 'Tis too late t' sculp any more."
There was some complaint; but Bill silenced the growlers with a sharp word or two. The whole party set off in a straggling line, dragging their tows; it was Bill who brought up the rear, for he wanted to make sure that his company would come entire to the landing-place. Strong, stinging blasts of wind were then sweeping out of the northeast, and the snow was fast narrowing the view.
"Faster, b'ys!" cried Bill. "The storm's comin' wonderful quick."
The storm came faster than, with all his experience, Bill o' Burnt Bay had before believed possible. When he had given the order to abandon the unskinned seals, he thought that there was time and to spare; but, now, with less than half the distance to the landing-place covered, the men were already staggering, the wind was blowing a gale, and the blinding snow almost hid the flags at the water's edge. When he realized this, and that the ship was not yet in sight, "Drop everything, an' run for it!" was the order he sent up the line.
"Archie, b'y," he then shouted, catching the lad by the arm and drawing him nearer, "we got t' run for the landing-place. Stick close t' me. When you're done out, I'll carry you. Is you afraid, b'y?"
Archie looked up, but did not deign to reply to the humiliating question.
"All right, lad," said Bill, understanding. "Is you ready?"
Archie knew that his strength and courage were to be tried. He was tired, and cold, and almost hopeless; but, then and there, he resolved to prove his blood and breeding – to prove to these men, who had been unfailingly kind to him, but yet had naturally looked with good-natured contempt upon his fine clothes and white hands, that fortitude was not incompatible with a neat cravat and nice manners. Beyond all that, however, it was his aim to prove that Sir Archibald Armstrong's son was the son of his own father.
"Lead on, Bill," he said.
"Good lad!" Bill muttered.
Archie bent to the blast.
