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 ^S (^'6) 288 ■ ^989 - Tqk 
 
"CHE HARBOR C^CASTER 
 
THE HARBOR 
 MASTER 
 
 BY 
 
 Theodore Goodridge Roberts 
 
 Author op 
 
 "Rayton: A Backwoods Mystery," "A CapUin of Raleigh's,' 
 
 "A Cavalier of Virginia," "Captain Love," "Brothers 
 
 of Peri!' and "Hemming, the Adventurer." 
 
 MADE IN U. S. A. 
 
 It:] 
 ¥:! 
 
 M. A. DONOHUE & COMPANY 
 
 CHICAGO NEW YORK 
 
 I- 
 
P:: ^52-. 
 
 I III 
 
 Copyright, tgtl 
 By Stkbbt & Smith 
 
 Copy^^ht, tgtj 
 
 By L. C. Pack & Company 
 
 (imcorpokatid) 
 
 All right* rtttrvtd 
 
 First Impression, January, 1913 
 Second Impression, February, 1913 
 
 to 
 
The English edition of 
 this book is entitled " The 
 Toll of the Tides," but 
 the American publishers 
 have preferred to retain the 
 author's original title, " '^he 
 Harbor Master." 
 
^ar-^ms-jt 
 
 e:v',vfm' 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 CBAPm 
 
 I. 
 II. 
 
 III. 
 
 IV. 
 
 V. 
 
 VI. 
 
 VII. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 IX. 
 X. 
 
 XI. 
 
 XII. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 XV. 
 
 XVI. 
 
 XVII. 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 XIX. 
 
 XX. 
 
 »AGS 
 
 Black Dennis Nolan . . . . i 
 Nolan Shows His Aptitude for Com- 
 mand 19 
 
 FoxEY Jack Quinn Slips Away . 36 
 Dead Man's Diamonds .... 54 
 Father McQueen Visits His Flock . 64 
 The Girl from the Cross-trees . 86 
 The Gold of the " Royal William " . loi 
 The Skipper Struggles against Su- 
 perstition 115 
 
 Some Early Visits i35 
 
 Mary Kavanagh i47 
 
 The Skipper Carries a Letter . . 164 
 
 Dick Lynch Goes on the War - path . 181 
 
 Bill Brennen Preaches Loyalty . 194 
 
 Dick Lynch Meets Mr. Darling . 210 
 
 Mr. Darling Sets Out on a Journey 225 
 Mr. Darling Arrives in Chance 
 
 Along 235 
 
 Mary Kavanagh Uses Her Wits . .250 
 
 Mother Nolan Does Some Spying . 265 
 Mary .\t Work Agatn . . - .279 
 Father McQueen's Return . , .292 
 
• •• T-: 
 
 <>-. 
 
 
THE 
 HARBOR MASTER 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 BLACK DENNIS NOLAN 
 
 At the back of a deep cleft in the formidable 
 cliffs, somewhere between Cape Race to the south- 
 ward and St. John's to the northward, hides the 
 little hamlet of Chance Along. As to its geograph- 
 ical position, this is sufficient. In the green sea in 
 front of the cleft, and almost closing the mouth of 
 it, lie a number of great boulders, as if the breech 
 in the solid cUflf had been made by some giant force 
 that had broken and dragged forth the primeval 
 rock, only to leave the refuse of its toil to lie for- 
 ever in the edge of the tide, to fret the gnawing 
 currents. At low tide a narrow strip of black 
 shingle shows between the nearer of these titanic 
 fragments and the face of the cliflf. The force 
 
 1 
 
 tw^m 
 
The Harbor Master 
 
 has been at work at other points of the coast as 
 well. A mile or so to the north it has broken down 
 and scattered seaward a great section of the chff, 
 scarring the water with a hundred jagged menaces 
 to navigation, and leaving behind it a torn sea front 
 and a wide, uneven beach. About three miles to 
 the south of the little, hidden village it has wrought 
 similar havoc, long forgotten ages ago. 
 
 Along this coast, for many miles, treacherous 
 currents race and shift continually, swinging in 
 from the ope ■>. sea, creeping along from the north, 
 slanting in from the southeast and snarling up 
 (but their snarling is hidden far below the surface) 
 from the tide-vexed, storm-worn prow of old Cape 
 Race. The pull and drift of many of these cur- 
 rents are felt far out from land, and they cannot 
 be charted because of their shiftings, and their 
 shiftings cannot be calculated with any degree of 
 accuracy, because they seem to be without system 
 or law. These are dangerous waters even now; 
 and before the safeguaid of a strong light on the 
 cape, in the days when ships were helplessly dragged 
 by the sea when there was no wind to drive them 
 — in the days before a " lee-shore " had ceased to 
 be an actual peril to become a picturesque phrase 
 
 sk'V'atVdklTif.L^ ' 
 
Black Dennis Nolan 
 
 in nautical parlance — they constituted one of the 
 most notorious disaster-zones of the North At- 
 lantic. 
 
 We are told, as were our fathers before us, that 
 one man's poison may be another man's meat, and 
 that it is an ill wind indeed that does not blow 
 an advantage to somebody. The fundamental 
 truths of these ancient saws w«re fully realized by 
 the people of Chance Along. Ships went down 
 in battered fragments to their clashing sea-graves, 
 which was bad. Heaven kuows, for the crews and 
 the owners — but ashore, stalwart and gratified 
 folk who had noted the storms and the tides ate 
 well and drank deep and went warmly clad, who 
 might otherwise have felt the gnawing of hunger 
 and the nip of the wind. 
 
 The people of Chance Along, with but a few ex- 
 ceptions, were Nolans, Lynches, Learys and Bren- 
 nens. Their forebears had settled at the back of the 
 cleft in the cliff a hundred years or more before 
 the time of this history. They had been at the 
 beginning, and still were, ignorant and primitive 
 folk. Fishing in the treacherous sea beyond their 
 sheltered i"etreat had been their occupation for sev- 
 eral generations, brightened and diversified occa- 
 
The Harbor Master 
 
 sionally by a gathering of the fruits of storm. It 
 was not until Black Dennis Nolan's time, however, 
 that the cotimunity discovered that the offerings of 
 the sea were sufficient — aye, more than sufficient 
 
 — for their needs. This discovery might easily 
 have been made by others than Black Dennis Nolan ; 
 but it required this man's daring ingenuity and 
 powers of command to make it possible to profit 
 by the discovery. 
 
 Black Dennis Nolan was but little more than a 
 lad when he commenced the formidable task of con- 
 verting a poverty-stricken comn.anity of cod-fishers 
 into a band of daring, cunning, unscrupulous wreck- 
 ers. He possessed a dominating character, even in 
 those days, and his father had left him a small fore- 
 and-aft schooner, a store well-stocked with hand- 
 line*?, provisions and gear, and a record chalked up 
 on the inside of the door which showed, by signs 
 and formulse unintelligible to the stranger, every 
 man in the harbor to be in his debt for flour, tea, 
 molasses, tofcacco and several other necessities of 
 life. So Black Dennis Nolan was in a position, 
 from the very first, to force the other men of the 
 place to conform to his plans and obey his orders 
 
 — more or less. 
 
Black Dennis Nolin 
 
 For a time there were doubters and grumblers, 
 old men who wagged their heads, and young men 
 who sneered covertly or jeered openly; and later, 
 as the rule of Dennis became absolute and some- 
 what tyrannical and the hand of Dennis heavy upon 
 men of independent ways of thought, there were 
 insurrections and mutinies. But Black Dennis 
 Nolan was equal to every difficulty, even from the 
 begin, 'ng. Doubters were convinced that he saw 
 clearer than they, grumblers were satisfied, young 
 men who jeered openly were beaten into submission 
 with whatever weapon came most conveniently to 
 hand. Dennis was big, agile, and absolutely fear- 
 less, and when he dealt a blow with an oar, a skiff's 
 thwart, or a pole from a drying-stage, a second 
 effort was seldom required against the same jeerer. 
 Once or twice, of course, he had to hit many times 
 and was compelled to accept some painful strokes 
 in return. One or two of these encounters are 
 worthy of treatment in detail, if only to show some- 
 thing of the natures of Black Dennis Nolan and his 
 companions. 
 
 Immediately after his father's untimely death 
 (the poor man was carried out to sea on a small 
 pan of ice, while engaged in kiULi^, seals off the 
 
6 
 
 The Harbor Master 
 
 mouth of the harbor, in the spring of the year), 
 Black Dennis was addressed by the title of " Skip- 
 per." The title and position became his, without 
 question, along with his unfortunate father's 
 schooner, store, and list of bad debts. The new 
 skipper's first move towards realizing his dreams 
 of affluence and power was to build a small hut of 
 stones, poles, and sods both at the place of the 
 broken clifif a mile to the north of Chance Along, 
 and at the place of similar physical character three 
 miles to the southward. It was winter at the time 
 — a fine season for wrecks, but an uncomfortable 
 season for spending one's nights in an ill-made hut, 
 and one's days on the brink of a cliff, without com- 
 panionship, gazing seaward through a heavy tele- 
 scope ior some vessel in distress. But the skipper 
 had made his plans and did no*^^ care a snap of his 
 finger for discomforts for himself or his friends. 
 He knew that out of every ten wrecks that took 
 place on the coast within twenty miles of Chance 
 Along, not more than one profited the people of Iiis 
 harbor. They never went afield in search of the 
 gifts of the treacherous sea. They took what they 
 could clutch of what was thrown at their very doors, 
 even then letting much escape them, owing to lack 
 
 CCF 
 
 iii^..J HA .>!> LOJt ■, lit , J J'L. 'l 
 
 m.j^^'x. -..^A 
 
Black Dennis Nolan 
 
 of science and organization. The new skipper meant 
 to alter this condition of things — and he knew 
 that the waters in the immediate vicinity of Chance 
 Along were neither the most dangerous on the 
 coast, nor the most convenient for the salving of 
 wreckage and fast-drowning cargoes. So he estab- 
 lished stations at Squid Beach to the northward, 
 and at Nolan's Cove to the southward, and ordered 
 Nick Leary and Foxey Jack Quinn to take up their 
 abode in the new huts; Nick at Squid Beach, and 
 Foxey Jack at the Cove, had to keep a sharp look- 
 out for ships during bad weather and at night. 
 Should either of them remark any signs of a vessel 
 in distress he was to return to Chance Along at 
 top speed, and report the same. Nick Leary and 
 Foxey Jack Quinn were older men than the skipper 
 by a few years, and the fathers of families — of 
 half-starved families. Nick was a mild lad; but 
 Foxey Jack had a temper as hot as his hair. 
 
 " What bes yer idee, skipper? " asked Nick. 
 
 Dennis explained it briefly, having outlined his 
 plans several times before. 
 
 "An' how long does we have to stop away?" 
 asked Nick. 
 
 " Five days. Yer watch'U be five days, an' then 
 
8 
 
 The Harbor Master 
 
 fj^ ji 
 
 I'll be sendin' out two more lads," replied the skip- 
 per. 
 
 Foxey Jack Quinn stood, without a word, his 
 vicious face twisted with a scowling sneer. Both 
 men departed, one for the beach to the north and 
 the other for the Cove to the south, each carrying 
 a kettle and bag of provisions, a blanket and tar- 
 nished spy-glass. Black Dennis Nolan turned to 
 other work connected with the great scheme of 
 transferring the activities of Chance Along from 
 the catching of fish to the catching of maimed and 
 broken ships. He set some of the old men and 
 women to splicing ropes, stronger and more active 
 folk to drilling a hole in the face of the cliflf, near 
 to the top of it c id just to the right of the entrance 
 to the narrow harbor. Others, led by the skipper 
 himself, set to work at drilling holes in several of 
 the great rocks that lay in the green tide beyond 
 the mouth of the harbor, their heavy crowns lifting 
 only a yard or two above the surface of the twisting 
 currents. All this was but the beginning of a task 
 that would require v;eeks, perhaps months, of labor 
 to complete. It was Black Dennis Nolan's intention 
 to construct, by means of great iron rings, bolts and 
 staples, chain-cables, hawsers and life-lines, a solid 
 
Black Dennis Nolan 
 
 net by the help of which his people could extend 
 their efforts at salving the valuables from a fast- 
 breaking vessel to the outermost rock of that dan- 
 gerous archipelago, even at the height of a :torm — 
 with luck. In the past, even in his own time, sev- 
 eral ships bound from Northern Europe for Que- 
 bec had been driven and dragged from their course, 
 shattered upon those rocks, sucke^ off into deep 
 water, and lost forever, without having contributed 
 so much as a bale of sail-cloth to the peorAe of 
 Chance Along. He was determined that cases of 
 this kind should not happen in the future. The net 
 was to be so arranged that the greater part of 
 it could be removed, and the balance submerged, 
 with but slight effort, and later all returned to its 
 working condition as easily; for it would not be 
 well to draw the attention of outsiders to the con- 
 trivance. Wrecking, in those days, meant more 
 than the salvage of cargoes, perhaps. The skipper 
 hoped, in time (should the experiment prove suc- 
 cessful at the mouth of the harbor), to rig the 
 dangerous and productive archipelago off Squid 
 Beach and Nolan's Cove with similar contrivances. 
 There was not another man in Chance Along 
 capable of conceiving such ideas; but Dennis was 
 
 'r 
 
fA 
 
 10 
 
 The Harbor Master 
 
 
 ambitious (in his crude way), imaginative, daring, 
 unscrupulous and full of resources and energy. 
 
 All day the skipper and his men worked stren- 
 uously, and at break of dawn on the morrow they 
 returned to their toils. By noon a gigantic iron 
 hook, forged by the skipper himself, with a shank 
 as thick as a strong man's arm and fully four feet 
 long, had been set firmly in the face of the cliff. 
 The skipper and five or six of his men stood at 
 the edge of the barren, above the cliff and the 
 harbor, wiping the sweat from their faces. Snow 
 lay in patches over the bleak and sodden barren, 
 a raw wind beat in from the east, and a gray and 
 white sea snarled below. 
 
 " Boys," said the young skipper, •' I's able to see 
 ahead to the day whin there'll be no want in Chance 
 Along, but the want we pretends to fool the world 
 wid. Aye, ye may take Dennis Nolan's word for 
 it! We'll eat an' drink full, lads, an' sleep warm 
 as any marchant i' St. John's." 
 
 " What damn foolery has ye all bin at now ? " 
 inquired a sneering voice. 
 
 All turned and beheld Foxey Jack Quinn stand- 
 ing near at hand, a leer on his wide mouth and 
 in his pale eyes, and his nunney-bag on his shoulder. 
 
 .I'G^hkH 
 
Black Dennis Nolan 
 
 11 
 
 His skinny woppers (high-legged moccasins of seal- 
 skin, hair-side inward) were glistening with mois- 
 ture of melted snow, and his face was red from 
 the rasp of raw wind. He looked as if he had 
 slept in his clothes — which was, undoubtedly, the 
 case. He glared straight at the skipper with a 
 dancing flame of devilment in his eyes. 
 
 *' What ye bin all a-doin' now for to make extry 
 work for yerselves ? " he asked. 
 
 There followed a brief silence, ar.d then Black 
 Dennis Nolan spoke quietly. 
 
 " Why bain't ye over to Squid Beach, standin' 
 yer trick at lookout? " he inquired. 
 
 Foxey Jack's answer was a harsh, jeering laugh, 
 and words to the effect that life was tor ihort to 
 spend five days of it lonely and starving with cold, 
 in a hut not fit for a pig. 
 
 " Ye kin do v.hat ye likes, yerself — ye an' them 
 as be fools like yerself; but Jack Quinn bain't 
 a-goin' to lend a hand a yer foolishness, Denny 
 Nolan," he concluded. 
 
 " Turn round an' git back to yer post wid ye," 
 said the skipper. 
 
 " Who be ye, an' what be ye, to give that word 
 to me?" 
 
 m 
 
 I 
 
 ^■■^/!-"**s»«e>*»Ka?s^^ ■ 
 
12 
 
 The Harbor Master 
 
 " Ye knows who I be. Turn round an' git! "^^ 
 
 " To hell wid ye! I turns round for no man! " 
 
 *' Then ye'd best drop yer nunney-bag, ye foxey- 
 
 headed fool, for I bes a-comin' at ye to larn ye 
 
 who bes skipper here." 
 
 Quinn let his nunney-bag fall to the snow be- 
 hind him — and in the same instant of time the 
 skipper's right fist landed on his nose, knocking 
 him backward over the bag, clear of! his feet, and 
 staining his red whiskers to a deeper and brighter 
 red. But the big fellow came up to his feet again 
 as nimbly as a cat. For a moment the two clinched 
 and swayed in each other's straining arms, like 
 drunken men. The awed spectators formed a line 
 between the two and the edge of the cliff. Foxey 
 Jack broke the hold, leaped back and struck a furi- 
 ous, but ill-judged blow which glanced off the 
 other's jaw. Next instant he was down on the 
 snow again, with one eye shut, but up again as 
 
 quickly. 
 
 Again they clinched and swayed, breast to breast, 
 knee to knee. Both were large men; but Foxey 
 Jack was heavier, having come to his full weight. 
 This time it was the skipper who tried to break the 
 hold, realizing that his advantage lay in his fists, 
 
Black Dennis Nolan 
 
 13 
 
 and Quinn's in the greater weight of body and 
 greater strength of back and leg. So the skipper 
 twisted and pulled; but Quinn held tight, and 
 slowly but surely forced the younger man towards 
 the edge of the clifT. Suddenly the skipper drew 
 his head back and brought it forward and down- 
 ward again, with all the force of his neck and shoul- 
 ders, fair upon the bridge of his antagonist's nose. 
 Quinn staggered and for a second his muscles re- 
 laxed; and in that second the skipper wrenched 
 away from his grasp and knocked him senseless to 
 the ground. 
 
 " Lay there, ye scum ! " cried Black Dennis 
 Nolan, breathing heavily, and wiping blood from 
 his chin with the back of his hand. " Lay there an* 
 be damned to ye, if ye t'ink ye kin say ' nay ' when 
 Dennis Nolan says * aye.' If it didn't be for the 
 childern ye bes father of, an' yer poor, dacent 
 woman, I'd t'row ye over the cliff." 
 
 Foxey Jack Quinn was in no condition to reply 
 to the skipper's address. In fact, he did not hear 
 a word of it. Two of the men picked him up and 
 carried him down a steep and twisting path to his 
 cabin at the back of the harbor, above the green 
 water and the gray drying-stages, and beneath the 
 
 4 
 
 
 •WiiiififffMPP 
 
edge of the vast and empty barren. He opened one 
 eye as they laid him on the bed in the one room 
 of the cabin. He glared up at the two men and 
 then around at his horrified wife and children. 
 
 " Folks," said he, " I'll be sure the death o' Black 
 Dennis Nolan. Aye, so help me Saint Peter. I'll 
 send 'im to hell, all suddent un' unready, for the 
 black deed he done this day! " 
 
 That was the first time the skipper showed the 
 weight of his fist. His followers were impressed 
 by the exhibition. The work went steadily on 
 among the rocks in front of Chance Along for ten 
 days, and then came twenty-four hours of furious 
 win , and driving snow out of the northwest. This 
 was followed by a brief lull, a biting nip of frost 
 that registered thirty degrees below zero, and then 
 fog and wind out of the east. After the snowy 
 gale, during the day of still, bitter cold, relief par- 
 ties went to Squid Beach and Nolan's Cove and 
 brought in the half-frozen watchers. For a day 
 the lookout stations were deserted, the people find- 
 ing it all they could do to keep from freezing in 
 their sheltered cabins in Chance Along; but with 
 the coming of the east wind and the fog, the huts, 
 of sods were again occupied. 
 
Black Dennis Nolan 
 
 15 
 
 The fog rolled in about an hour before noon; 
 and shortly after midnig-ht the man from Nolan's 
 Cove groped his way along the edge of the cliflf, 
 down the twisty path to the cluster of cabins, and 
 to Black Dennis Nolan's door. He pounded and 
 kicked the door until the whole building trembled. 
 
 " What bes ye a-wantin' now ? " bawled the skip- 
 per, from within. 
 
 " I seed a blue flare an' beared a gun a-firing to 
 the sou'east o' the cove," bawled the visitor, in 
 
 reply. 
 
 The skipper opened the door. 
 
 " Come in, lad! Come in! " he cried. 
 
 He lit a candle and set to work swiftly pulling 
 on his outer clothes and sea-boots. 
 
 " There bes rum an' a mug, Pat. Kelp yerself 
 an* then rouse the men," he said. " Tell Nick 
 Terry an' Bill Brennen to get the gear together. 
 Step lively ! Rouse 'em out ! " 
 
 Pat Lynch slopped rum into a tin mug, gulped 
 it greedily, and stumbled from the candle-light out 
 again to the choking fog. He would have liked 
 to remain inside long enough to swallow another 
 drain and fill and light his pipe; but with Black 
 Dennis Nolan roaring at him like a walrus, he 
 
 3^atLi*-T*:>r^-™; -'nm/€.i-i^-rsrm,^^ 
 
16 
 
 The Harbor Master 
 
 had not ventured to delay. He groped his way 
 from cabin to cabin, kicking on doors and bellow- 
 ing the skipper's orders. 
 
 An hour and a half later, twenty men of Chance 
 Along were clustered at the edge of the broken 
 cliff overlooking the beach of Nolan's Cove and 
 the rock-scarred sea beyond. But they could see 
 nothing of beach or tide. The fog clung around 
 them like black and sodden curtains. Here and 
 there a lantern made an orange blur against the 
 black. Some of the men held coils of rope with 
 light grappling-irons spliced to the free ends. 
 Others had home-made boat-hooks, the poles of 
 which were fully ten feet long. 
 
 They heard the dull boom of a gun to seaward. 
 
 " She bes closer in ! " exclaimed Pat Lynch. 
 " Aye, closer in nor when I first beared her. She 
 bJn't so far to the south'ard, neither." 
 
 " Sure, then, the tide bes a-pullin' on her an' will 
 drag her in, lads," remarked an old man, with a 
 white beard that reached half-way down his breast. 
 
 " What d'ye make o' her, Barney Keen ? " asked 
 the skipper of the old man. 
 
 " Well, skipper, I'll tell 'e what I makes o' her. 
 'Twas afore yer day, lad — aye, as much as t'irty 
 
Black Dennis Nolan 
 
 17 
 
 year ago — arter just sich weather as this, an' this 
 time o' year, a grand big ship altogether went all 
 abroad on these here rocks. Aye, skipper, a grand 
 ship. Nought come ashore but a junk o' her hull 
 an' a cask o' brandy, an' one o' her boats wid the 
 name on all complete. The Manchester City she 
 was, from Liverpool. We figgered as how she was 
 heading for the gulf — for Quebec, like as not. 
 So I makes it, skipper, as how this here vessel may 
 be bound for Quebec, too." 
 
 Black Dennis Nolan took a lantern from another 
 man, and led the way down the broken slope to 
 the beach. The gear was passed down and piled 
 at the edge of the tide. Dry wood — the frag- 
 ments of ships long since broken on the outer rocks 
 
 — w-as gathered from where it had been stranded 
 high by many spring tides, and heaped on a wide, 
 flat rock half-way up the slope. Another heap of 
 splintered planks and wave-worn timbers was con- 
 structed on the level of the beach, close to the water 
 
 — all this by the skipper's orders. The sea ham- 
 mered and sobbed among the rocks, and splintered 
 the new ice along the land-wash. 
 
 " If she comes ashore we'll be needin' more nor 
 ^"die-light to work wid,' remarked the skipper. 
 
 *-.i 
 
 'mm 
 
 ^ 
 
18 
 
 The Harbor Master 
 
 Again the dull boom of a gun drifted in through 
 
 che fog. 
 
 •' Aye, lads, she bes a-drawin' in to us," said old 
 Barney Keen, with a note of intense satisfaction 
 in his rusty voice. 
 
CHAPTFR II 
 
 NOLAN SHOWS HIS APTITUDE FOR COMMAND 
 
 The big ship was hopelessly astray in the fo^^ 
 and in the grip of a black, unseen current that 
 dragged at her keel and bulging beam, pulling her 
 inexorably landward towards the hidden rocks. 
 Her commander felt danger lurking in the fog, 
 but was at a loss to know on which side to look 
 for it, at what point to guard against it. He was 
 a brave man and a master of seamanship in all the 
 minute knacks and tricks of seamanship of that 
 day; but this was only his third voyage between 
 London and the St. Lawrence, and the previous 
 trips had been made in clear weather. The gale 
 had blown him many miles out of his course, and 
 lost him his main-top-ga'ntsail yards and half of 
 his mizzen-mast; the cold snap had weighted ship 
 and rigging with ice, and now the fog and the 
 uncharted deep-sea river had confused his reckon- 
 
 19 
 
 :.:=Sfe 
 
 'i<iM-i%'^'^ 
 
20 
 
 The Harbor Master 
 
 ing utterly. But even so, he might have been able 
 to work his vessel out of the danger-zone had any 
 signal been made from the coast in reply to his 
 guns and flares. Even if after the arrival of the 
 men from Chance Along on the beach at Nolan's 
 Cove, the heaps of driftwood had been fired, he 
 might have had time to pull his ship around to the 
 north, drag out of the current that was speeding 
 towards the hidden rocks, and so win away to 
 safety. There was wind enough for handling the 
 ship, he knew all the tricks of cheating a lee-shore 
 of its anticipated spoils, and the seas were not run- 
 ning dangerously high. But his guns and flares 
 went unanswered. All around hung the black, 
 blind curtains of the fog, cruelly silent, cruelly 
 unbroken by any blink of flame. 
 
 Black Dennis Nolan and his men stood by the 
 frozen land-wash, along which the currents snarled, 
 and rolling seas, freighted with splinters of black 
 sea-ice, clattered and sloshed, waiting patiently for 
 their harvest from the vast and treacherous fields 
 beyond. A grim harvest! Grim fields to garner 
 from, wiherein he who sows peradventure shall not 
 reap, and wherein Death is the farmer! Aye, and 
 grim gleaners those who stand under the broken 
 
Nolan Shows Aptitude for Command 21 
 
 cliff of Nolan's Cove, waiting and listening in the 
 dark! 
 
 A dull, crashing, grinding sound set the black 
 fog vibrating. Then a brief clamor of panic- 
 stricken voices rang in to the shore. Silence fol- 
 lowed that — a silence that w; s suddenly broken 
 by the thumping report of a cannon. The light 
 flared dimly in the fog. 
 
 " Quiet, lads ! " commanded the skipper. " Let 
 the wood be till I gives ye the word. She bes fast 
 on the rocks, but she hain't busted yet." 
 
 " An' she'll not bust inside a week, i' this sea," 
 said one of the men. " Sure, skipper, the crew'U 
 be comin' ashore i' their boats afore long. An' 
 they have their muskets an' cutlasses wid them, 
 ye kin lay to that. None but fools would come 
 ashore on this coast, from a wreck, widout their 
 weepons." 
 
 " Aye, an' they'll be carryin' their gold an' sich, 
 too," said the skipper. " Lads, we'll do our best 
 — an' that hain't fightin' an' killin', i' this case, 
 but the usin' o' our wits. Bill Brennen, tell off 
 ten men an' take 'em along the path to the south- 
 'ard v/id ye. Lay down i' the spruce-tuck along- 
 side the path, about t'ree miles along, an' v/ait till 
 
 M 
 
 ^^^^^1^«^^ 
 
22 
 
 The Harbor Master 
 
 these folks from the ship comes up to ye, wid four 
 or five o' our own lads a-leadin' the way wid lan- 
 terns. They'll be totin' a power o' val'able gear 
 along wid them, ye kin lay to that! Lep out onto 
 'er:i, widout a word, snatch the gear an' run fair 
 south along the track, yellin' like hell. Then stow 
 the noise all of a suddent, get clear o' the track 
 an' work back to this Chance Along wid the gear. 
 Don't bat any o' the ship's crew over the head if 
 ye bain't forced to it. The gear bes the t'ing we 
 
 wants, lads." 
 
 " Aye, skipper, aye — but will the sailormen be 
 a-totin' their gear t . a-way? " returned Bill. 
 
 " Sure, b'y, for I'll tell 'em as we bes from Nap 
 Harbor, an' I'll send four lads to show 'em the 
 way. After ye take their gear — as much as ye 
 kin get quick and easy — they'll follow ye along 
 the path to try to catch ye," replied Black Dennis 
 Nolan. 
 
 Bill Brennen went up the twisty path to the bar- 
 ren, and along the edge of the cliff to the south- 
 ward, followed by ten sturdy fellows armed with 
 long clubs of birch-wood. Of the nine men remain- 
 ing with the skipper, six were sent, along with the 
 gear, to hide behind the boulders and clumps of 
 
Nolan Shows Aptitude for Command 28 
 
 bush on the steep slope. The skipper cautioned 
 them to lie low and keep quiet. 
 
 " Ahoy, there! " bellowed the skipper. 
 
 "Ahoy! Can't you show a light?" came the 
 reply, from the fog. 
 
 " Aye, aye, sir. Bes ye on the rocks ? " 
 
 "Lord, yes! Show a light, man, for Heavens 
 sake, so we can get the boat away. Her back's 
 broken and her bows stove in. She's breaking up 
 quick." 
 
 The skipper and ^'"' three companions speedily 
 made a small heap from the big pile of driftwood 
 on the shingle, and lit it from the candle of a lan- 
 tern. They poured a tin of seal-oil over the dry 
 wreckage, and the red and yellow flames shot up. 
 It was evident to the men on the land-ash that 
 the unfortunate ship had escaped the outer menaces 
 and won within a hundred yards of the shore be- 
 fore striking. She was burning oil now, in vast 
 quantities, to judge by the red glare that cut and 
 stained the fog to seaward. 
 
 "What sort of channel?" came the question. 
 
 " Full o' rocks, sir ; but it bes safe enough wid 
 caution," cried the skipper. 
 
 " Can't you show more light? " 
 
 ^iBcnq 
 
 ™IWJ"JV 
 
24 
 
 The Harbor Master 
 
 " Aye, sir, there bes more wood." 
 
 A second fire was built still closer to the edge 
 of the tide than the first, 
 
 " Stand by to receive a line," warned the mas- 
 terful voice from the ship. 
 
 A rocket banged and a light line fell writhing 
 across the beach. 
 
 " Haul her in and make fast the hawser." 
 
 Black Dennis Nolan and his three companions 
 were most obliging. They pulled in the line until 
 the wet hawser on the end of it appeared, and this 
 they made fast to a rock on the beach as big as a 
 house. 
 
 A small light appeared between the ship and the 
 shore, blinking and vanishing low down on the 
 pitching sea. The glare from the fires on the land- 
 wash presently discovered this to be an oil-lantern 
 in the bows of a boat. The boat, which contained 
 about a dozen men, was being hand-hauled along 
 the line that ran from the wreck to the shore. 
 Black Dennis Nolan and his companions exchanged 
 glances at sight of drawn cutlasses and several 
 rifles and pistols in the hands of the men from the 
 wreck. As the leading boat came within ten yards 
 of the shore an officer stood up in her bows. By 
 
Nolan Shows Aptitude for Command 25 
 
 this time the light of a second boat was blinking 
 and vanishing in her wake. 
 
 " Bear a hand to ease us off," commanded the 
 person in the bows of the boat. 
 
 " Aye, sir, we bes ready to help ye," replied the 
 skipper, humbly. 
 
 " How is the landing? " 
 
 " It bes clear, sir — shelvin' rock." 
 
 " How many are you, there ? " 
 
 " We bes four poor fishermen, sir." 
 
 The boat rowed in and was kept from staving 
 in her keel on the land-wash by Nolan and his men. 
 The officer sprang from the bows to the icy shingle, 
 slipped and recovered himself with an oath. He 
 was a huge fellow. In one hand he carried an 
 iron dispatch box, and in the other a heavy pis- 
 tol. 
 
 "This the lot of you?" he asked, glancing 
 sharply at Black Dennis Nolan. 
 
 " Aye, sir, we bes only four poor fishermen," 
 replied Nolan. 
 
 " I am glad to hear it. This coast has the name 
 of being a bad place for shipwrecked people to come 
 ashore on." 
 
 "You bes talkin' of the coast 'round to the 
 
-W" 
 
 26 
 
 The Harbor Master 
 
 south o' Cape Race, sir. We bes all poor, honest 
 folk hereabouts, sir." 
 
 " Oh, aye," returned the other, drily. 
 
 By this time all the men were ashore and the 
 boat was high up on the shingle, out of reach of 
 the surf. The men stood close around it. They 
 were well-armed, and kept a sharp look-out on all 
 
 sides. 
 
 " What do you call this place? " asked the officer. 
 
 " Why, sir, Frenchman's Cove bes its name," 
 replied the skipper. 
 
 Frenchman's Cove lies three miles to the south 
 of Nolan's Cove; but the skipper was cautious. 
 
 " Do you live here ? " 
 
 " No, sir. There bain't no houses here. We 
 bes four poor men from 'way to the nor'ard, sir, 
 a-huntin' deer on the barrens. We was makin' camp 
 'way back inland, sir, when we beared yer guns 
 a-firin'." 
 
 " How far away is the nearest village? " 
 
 " Why, sir, this country bes strange to me, but 
 
 I's t'inkin' Nap Harbor wouldn't be more'n ten 
 
 mile to the south, fair along the coast. Bes I right, 
 
 Pete?" 
 
 "Aye, skipper, I be t'inkin* the same. Nap 
 
Nolan Shows Aptitude for Command 27 
 
 Harbor lays t< the souvh, maybe ten mile along, 
 maybe less," rii'i'si Peter Nolan, a cousin of the 
 skipper's. 
 
 A second boat reached the shore and discharged 
 its freight of humans and small packages and bun- 
 dles. This boat contained four sailors and ten 
 passengers. There were three women among the 
 passengers. All were clutching bundles of clothing 
 or small bags containing their personal possessions 
 of value. One of the women was weeping hys- 
 terically. 
 
 " Could we get a passage 'round to St. John's 
 from Nap Harbor? " asked the officer. 
 
 " Aye, sir, I bes sayin' ye could. Sure there 
 bes a fore-and-after i' Nap Harbor," said Nolan. 
 
 " Will you guide us to Nap Harbor? " 
 
 " Aye, sir, that we will, an' glad to be o' sarvice 
 to ye." 
 
 " We will pay you well, my good man," said 
 one of the passengers, a tall gentleman with a very 
 white and frightened face, draped in a very wet 
 cloak. " In the meantime," he continued, " let us 
 dry ourselves at these fires and have something 
 hot to drink. Where are those stewards, the lazy 
 dogs!" 
 
98 
 
 The Harbor Master 
 
 Two more boats came from the ship to the shore 
 without accident. In the last to arrive were the 
 captain and the doctor. The company gathered 
 round the fires, keeping their boxes and bags close 
 to them. The stewards and sailors brewed hot 
 punches for all. The lady with the hysterics was 
 soothed to quiet by the doctor and a tiny mug of 
 brandy and boiling water. The officers held a con- 
 sultation and decided to get the passengers safely 
 to Nap Harbor, and aboard a schooner for St. 
 John's and then to return to Frenchman's Cove 
 themselves and salve what they could of the cargo 
 of the ship, which was evidently of unusual value. 
 (Black Dennis Nolan had expected this.) They 
 would get help in Nap Harbor for the work of 
 salvage, and would leave the four boats on the 
 beach, under a guard of five seamen and the third 
 officer. They had brought food from the ship, and 
 so they ate a substantial meal while they warmed 
 themselves and discussed their plans. But Captain 
 McTavish neither ate nor drank, so bitterly did he 
 feel the loss of his ship. He feared that even the 
 moderate sea now running would break her up 
 within forty-eight hours. 
 
 Black Dennis Nolan vanished in the darkness 
 
i • 
 
 Nolan Shows Aptitude for Command 29 
 
 many times in i furtherance of his task of gather- 
 ing wood for the fires. At last, after he had cov- 
 ertly inspected all the bags, bundles and dispatch 
 boxes, he disappeared in the surrounding gloom 
 and did not reappear at all. Dick Lynch, a man 
 of about his own size, shape and coloring, — one 
 of the six who had taken cover on the hillside — 
 entered the firelight in his stead, carrying a frag- 
 ment of broken spar. The change was not noticed 
 by the men from the wreck. 
 
 Dry, warmly clothed, and inwardly fortified with 
 food and drink, the ship's company set off for Nap 
 Harbor, ca rying as much as they could of i\ 
 portable possessions, and led by four of the hont c 
 fishermen of Chance Along. They left behind them 
 the third mate, a sturdy youth armed with two 
 pistols and a fowling-piece, and five sailors armed 
 with cutlasses and pistols — and enough dry and 
 liquid provisions to last the guard for several days. 
 They climbed the steep and twisty path that con- 
 nected the beach with the edge of the barren, and 
 soon their lanterns were lost in the fog. The third 
 mate and his men brewed another generous supply 
 of rum punch, heaped more wood on the fire and 
 lit their pipes. By the time each had emptied his 
 
 i 
 
 
30 
 
 The Harbor Master 
 
 tin mug for the third time all felt ir essibly 
 sleepy. Mr. Darling, the commander ^ i\e guard, 
 counted his men with a waving forefinger, and an 
 expression of owlish gravity on his round face. 
 Then, " Daniel Berry, you'll stand the first trick," 
 said he. " Keep a sharp look-out and report any- 
 thing unusual. Silas Nixon will relieve you at 
 eight bells of ihe middle watch." 
 
 So Daniel Ber.y got unsteadily to his feet and 
 stumbled away from the fire; but five minutes after 
 his companions began to snore he returned to his 
 blankets by the fire and fell fast asleeo. He would 
 never have been guilty of such a crime at sea ; but 
 ashore it was quite a diflFerent matter. What was 
 the use of .^. look-out ashore ? The island of New- 
 foundland was not likely to strike a reef or an ice- 
 berg. So he sank deep into the slumber of the just 
 and the intoxicated. 
 
 A dawn wind, blowing gently out of the west, 
 began to thin and lift the dripping fog. Out from 
 the dark that hedged in the fire crawled six vague 
 shapes which, as they came into the illuminated 
 zone, proved to be Black Dennis Nolan and five 
 of his men of Chance Along with ropes in their 
 hands. They stooped over the blanket-swathed 
 
Nolan Shows Aptitude for Command 81 
 
 sleepers, working quickly and cunningly with the 
 ropes. They also bandaged the eyes and mouths 
 of the unconscious mariners with strips of blanket. 
 By this time the light on the stranded ship was 
 burning low. The skipper and his companions ex- 
 amined the four boats, dragged one of them down 
 to the edge of the tide and launched it. The fog 
 was thinning swiftly, and a gray pallor was spread- 
 ing in the east and south. They manned the boat 
 and pulled out for the wreck, following the dripping 
 hawser. 
 
 The wreck lay across a sunken rock, listed heav- 
 ily to port. Her spars were all over the side, a 
 tangled mass washing and beating about in the seas. 
 A snag of rock had been driven clean through the 
 timbers of the port-bow. Black Dennis Nolan and 
 his companions managed to get aboard at last. A 
 fire of rags and oil still burned in an iron tub on 
 the main deck. They went forward to the galley 
 for a lamp, and with this entered the cabins aft. 
 Dennis Nolan led the way. The captain's room 
 was empty. They found and examined the quarters 
 of the passengers. Clothing and bedding were 
 tossed about in disorder, and it .. ned that every- 
 thing of value had been collected and carried away. 
 
32 
 
 The Harbor Master 
 
 They gathered up a couple of silk gowns and a 
 fur-lined cloak, however. The skipper was shaking 
 out the sheets from a berth when he felt something 
 strike the toe of his boot. He stooped quickly, 
 recovered a small box bound in red leather, and 
 slipped it in his pocket. The others had observed 
 nothing of this. In another cabin, they found the 
 passengers' heavy baggage packed in about a dozen 
 big leather boxes. They carried these to the main 
 deck without waiting to open them. By this time 
 the dawn was an actual, dreary-gray fact, and the 
 fog was no more than a thin mist. 
 
 " Now for the cargo, lads," said the skipper. 
 
 They removed the tarpaulins from the main 
 hatch, and broke it open. With the lamp in his 
 left hand, the skipper descended into the hold by 
 way of the stationary iron ladder. 
 
 " Pianeys," he shouted. 
 
 " Hell ! " exclaimed the men on deck, in voices 
 of disgust. 
 
 The skipper returned to the deck, after about ten 
 minutes in the hold. 
 
 " The cargo hain't o' no use to us, lads," he said. 
 " Pianeys, engines, an' fancy-goods." 
 
 They broke open the lazarette and found several 
 
 1^ 
 
Nolan Shows Aptitude for Command 38 
 
 cases of wines and brandy, and a quantity of pro- 
 visions of superior quality. They lowered the pas- 
 sengers' baggage into the boat and pulled ashore 
 through the spouting, slobbering rocks and reefs. 
 In a second trip they salvaged the spirits and pro- 
 visions. They carried boxes, cases and crates up 
 to the barren, and hid them in a thicket of dense 
 spruce-tuck, and concealed their gear of lines and 
 boat-hooks in the same place. 
 
 " She'll last a good few days yet, if it don't blow 
 up a gale," said the skipper, waving his hand 
 towards the wreck, " and maybe we'll come back 
 an' get some pickin's. But we bain't wantin' to 
 raise any suspicions." 
 
 He loosened the bindings at Mr. Darling's wrists, 
 so that they could be worked off in time, and then 
 set out briskly for Chance Along with his three 
 companions at his heels. 
 
 Of the future of the ship's company little need 
 be said. On their way to Nap Harbor they were 
 set upon and robbed by a large force of big men. 
 Their valuables vanished into the fog and darkness, 
 as if they had never been — arni their guides van- 
 ished also. They went on, following the edge of 
 the cliff, and reached Nap Harbor about two hours 
 
 111 
 
34 
 
 The Harbor Master 
 
 after dawn. From Nap Harbor they sailed north- 
 ward to St. John's, and there reported the robbery 
 to the police. The police calmed them with prom- 
 ises, and in time sent officers to Nap Harbor armed 
 with search-warrants. Needless to say, the jewels 
 and money were not iound. Captain McTavish did 
 not return to Nolan's Cove to salve the cargo of his 
 ship, for the agent in St. John's explained to him 
 that the task would be a profitless one. A few days 
 later he was joined by Mr. Darling and the five 
 men of the guard, and eventually they all sailed 
 away. But the tall gentleman with the white face 
 and the long cloak left a sting behind him. He was 
 Sir Arthur Harwood, Baronet, and the lady who 
 had wept hysterically, and been quieted by the ship's 
 surgeon, was Lady Harwood. By the wreck these 
 two had lost much of value in clothing, jewelry 
 and money; but their greatest loss was that of a 
 necklace of twelve flawless diamonds and fourteen 
 rubies Sir Arthur oflfered a reward of five hun- 
 dred pounds for the recovery of this necklace. In 
 this reward lay the sting. 
 
 In the litti retiring harbor of Chance Along, 
 Black Dennis Nolan was a great man. His plans 
 had worked without a hitch — and still the carcass 
 
Nolan Shows Aptitude for Command 35 
 
 of the ship lay in Nolan's Cove, only waiting to 
 be picked. A rich harvest had been gathered with- 
 out the loss of a life, and without attracting a 
 shadow of suspicion upon Chance Along. The 
 skipper called together the twenty men who had 
 shared with him the exertions and risks of that 
 night. This was in his store, with the windows 
 obscured by blankets, the door bolted and the lamp 
 lit. 
 
 "Lads," said he, "here bes twelve hundred 
 golden sovereigns. I makes 'em into twenty-four 
 shares o' fifty each. Now, lads, step up an' each 
 take a share." 
 
 The men obeyed, their eyes glowing and their 
 hands tremblir^. 
 
 " Now there bes four shares still on the table," 
 said the skipper. 
 
 "Aye, skipper, aye," stammered Bill Brennen, 
 huskily. The others breathed heavily, shuffled their 
 feet, gripped the money in their pockets and glared 
 at the yellow pieces still glowing in the lamplight. 
 
CHAPTER III 
 
 FOXEY JACK QUINN SLIPS AWAY 
 
 "Four shares still on the table," repeated the 
 skipper. "Well, lads, one bes for Black Dennis 
 Nolan." 
 
 I" glared around at the circle of eager, watchful, 
 shaggy faces set against the wall of gloom that 
 hemmed in the table and the ill-trimmed lamp. 
 
 "Aye, skipper, that bes right," muttered Nick 
 Leary. 
 
 " And another bes for the skipper who feeds ye 
 all from his store." 
 
 Again he glared around, letting his dark, daunt- 
 less eyes dwell for a second on each face. " And 
 t'other two bes for the lad who lamed you how." 
 
 With that, he swept the four piles of coins into 
 a pocket of his coat. One of the men grunted. 
 The skipper turned his black but glowing regard 
 upon him. Another cursed harshly and withdrew 
 a step from the table. The skipper jumped to his 
 feet 
 
Foxey Jack ^^uinn Slips Away S7 
 
 " Who says nay ? " he roared. " Who gives the 
 lie to my word? I bes skipper here — aye, an' 
 more nor skipper! Would ye have one gold gt!iinea 
 amongst the whole crew o' ye, but for me? Would 
 ye have a bite o' food in yer bellies, but for me? 
 An' now yer bellies bes full an' yer pockets bes Sull, 
 an' ye stand there an' say nay to my aye! " 
 
 He pulled two pistols from beneath his coat, 
 cocked them deliberately and stared insolently and 
 inquiringly around. 
 
 " What d'ye say to it. Bill Brennen? " he asked. 
 
 Bill Brennen shuffled his big feet uneasily, and 
 eyed the pistols askance. 
 
 "Thank ye kindly, skipper. Ye speaks the 
 truth," said he. 
 
 "An'ye. NickLeary?" 
 
 " Ye bes skipper here, sure — aye, and more nor 
 skipper. But for ye we'd all be starved to death 
 wid hunger an' cold," said Nick. 
 
 " An' what says the rest o' ye? Who denies me 
 the right to four shares o' the money? " 
 
 "Me, Dennis Nolan!" said Dick Lynch. "I 
 denies ye the right." 
 
 '' Step up an' say it to my face," cried the skipper. 
 
 "Aye, step up an' give it to him straight," 
 
 >' t 
 
38 
 
 The Harbor Master 
 
 " Step up, Dick, I bes wid 
 
 said one of the men. 
 ye." 
 
 " Who said that? " roared the skipper. 
 
 " Sure, 'twas me said it," growled one, Dan Keen. 
 
 " Be there four o' ye denies me the right to the 
 money in me pocket? " asked the skipper. 
 
 " Aye, there bes four o' us." 
 
 " Then step out, the four o' ye." 
 
 Dick Lynch, Dan Keen and two others shuffled to 
 the front of the group. Black Dennis Nolan looked 
 them over with fury in his eyes and a sneer on his 
 lips. He called up Bill Brennen and Nick Leary, 
 and gave a pistol to each of them, and exchanged 
 a few guarded words with them. 
 
 " Dick Lynch, Dan Keen, Corny Quinn an' Pat 
 Lynch, stand where ye be," he said. " Ease back 
 along the wail, the rest o' ye. I'll lam ye who bes 
 skipper an' master o' this harbor! I'll larn ye if 
 I bes as good as the four o' ye or not." 
 
 He slipped off his coat, with the weight of coined 
 gold in the pockets of it, stepped swiftly around 
 the end of the table and sprang furiously upon the 
 four men who had denied his right to four shares 
 of the loot. 
 "I'll lam ye! "he roared. 
 
Foxey Jack Quinn Slips A way S9 
 
 Three of them, all husky fellows, stood their 
 ground; but the fourth turned and daslied clear 
 of the field of instruction. He was a small man, 
 was Corny Quinn, and lacked the courage of his' 
 convictions. 
 
 The skipper struck the group of three with both 
 feet oflf the -round. They stagr'ired, clutched at 
 hii. aimed blows and curses at iv> , A terrible 
 kick delivered by Dan Keen missea its intended 
 object and brought Pat Lynch writhing to the floor, 
 and before Dan fully realized his mistake something 
 as hard as the side of a house struck him on the 
 jaw and laid him across the victim of his error. 
 Dick Lynch was more fortunate than his fellow- 
 mutineers — for half a minute. He closed with 
 the furious skipper and clung tightly to him, thus 
 avoiding punishment for the moment. The two 
 were well matched in height and weight; but the 
 skipper was the stronger in both body and heart. 
 Also, he seemed now to be possessed of the nerve- 
 strength of a madman. He lifted his clinging an- 
 tagonist clear of the floor, shook him and wrenched 
 at him, and at last broke his hold and flung him 
 against the wall. Dick landed on his feet, steadied 
 himself for a moment and then dashed back to the 
 
40 
 
 The Harbor Master 
 
 encounter; but he was met by the skipper's fist — 
 and that was the end of the fight. 
 
 Black Dennis Nolan returned to the table and 
 sat down behind the smoky lamp. There was a 
 red spot on his forehead from a chance blow, and 
 the knuckles of both big hands were raw. He 
 breathed heavily for a full minute, and glared 
 around him in silence. 
 
 " Pick 'em up," he said, at last. " The lesson 
 I lamed 'em seems to lay cold on ♦'leir bellies. Give 
 'em rum, Burky Nolan — yeT id a case of bottles 
 behind the stove. Drink up, all o' ye. T'row some 
 water in their faces, too." 
 
 His orders were promptly obeyed. He took the 
 pistols from Bill Brennen and Nick Leary, and laid 
 them on the table, and then picked up his coat and 
 put it on. 
 
 " Now, men, maybe ye know who bes master 
 of this harbor," he said. " If any one o' ye, or 
 any four o' ye, hain't sure, say the word an' I'll 
 pull ofif me coat again an' show ye. Well now, 
 we'll git back to business. The jewels bes still hid 
 in the swamp. They hain't no manner o' use to us 
 till we sells 'em. I'll do that, men, bit by bit, in 
 St. John's. The grub an' liquor we took bes all in 
 
Foxey Jack Quinn Slips Away 4i 
 
 the pit under this floor. Ye kin come every day 
 an' tote away what ye wants of it. The wines and 
 brandy bes for them who has sick folks an' old 
 folks to feed. Lift the trap, Bill, an' let them help 
 theirselves." 
 
 Bill Brennen stooped and hoisted a trap-door in 
 the middle of the floor. The skipper left the table, 
 lamp in hand. 
 
 "Help yourselves, men," he invited. "Take 
 whatever ye fancies." 
 
 They came up meekly. Even the three who had 
 so lately been disabled obeyed the invitation, lean- 
 ing upon their companions. The water and rum 
 had revived them physically, but their spirits were 
 thoroughly cowed. The skipper held the lamp over 
 the square hole in the floor. 
 
 "Two at a time, men," he cautioned. "Bill, 
 light a candle an' pass it down to 'em." 
 
 Half an hour later the store was empty, save for 
 the skipper and the inanimate gear. The blankets 
 had been removed from the windows, and the lamp 
 extinguished. The skipper sat beside the deal table 
 from which he had distributed the gold, staring 
 thoughtfully at his raw knuckles, The pistols still 
 lay on the table. He pushed them to one side. 
 
 m 
 
42 
 
 The Harbor Master 
 
 scooped the gold from his pockets, spread it out 
 and counted it slowly and awkwardly. Then he 
 produced a canvas bag, stowed the gold away in 
 it and tied the mouth of it securely. 
 
 " A rough crew," he muttered. " They needs 
 rough handlin', most o' the time, an' then a mite 
 o' humorin' like ye t'row fish to a team o' dogs 
 after ye lash the hair off 'em. Aye, a rough crew, 
 an' no mistake — but Black Dennis Nolan bes theii 
 master ! " 
 
 He left his chair, stepped across the floor, and 
 lifted the trap that led to the cellar. He descended, 
 returning in a minute with a bottle of wine and 
 two tins of potted meat. 
 
 " I'm t'inkin' it bes about time to t'row some fish 
 to that dog Jack Quinn," he murmured. 
 
 He went out, leaving the bag of gold on the 
 table, and locked the door behind him. Though he 
 left the gold he did not leave the pistols. Under 
 his arm he carried the wine and the tinned meat. 
 He went straight to Foxey Jack Quinn's cabin, and 
 entered without knocking on the door. Quinn was 
 sitting by the little stove with his head untidily 
 bandaged. One pale, undamaged eye glared fiercely 
 from the bandages. The woman was seated close 
 
Foxey Jack Quinn Slips Away 
 
 43 
 
 to the only vindovv, sewing, and the children were 
 playing on the floor. All movement was arrested 
 on the instant of the skipper's entrance. The chil- 
 dren crouched motionless and the woman's needle 
 stuck idle in the cloth. Quinn sat like an image 
 of wood, showing life only in that one glaring, pale 
 eye. 
 
 "How bes ye feelin' now, Jack?" asked the 
 visitor. 
 
 The hulking fellow by the stove did not speak, 
 but the hand that held his pipe .witched ever so 
 slightly. 
 
 Orders be order.," continued the skipper. 
 " The lads who obeys me fil^ their pockets wid 
 gold — an' them who don't get hurt. But I hain't 
 • hard man, Jack Quinn. Ye did yer best to heave 
 -■ over the edge o' the clifif — an' most would 
 ave killed ye for that. Here bes wine an' meat 
 for ye an' the wife an' children." 
 
 He laid the bottle and tins on a stool near the 
 woman. Quinn's glance did not waver, and not a 
 word passed his swollen lips; but his wife snatched 
 up one of the tins of meat. 
 
 " The saints be praised! " she cried. " We bes 
 nigh starvin' to deat' wid hunger! " 
 
 ill 
 
44 
 
 The Harbor Master 
 
 " 'Twas me give it to ye, not the saints," said 
 Black Dennis Nolan, "an' there bes more for ye 
 where it come from." 
 
 He turned and went out of the cabin. 
 
 " I'll fix him yet," mumbled Foxey Jack Quinn. 
 
 The woman gave no heed to the remark, for she 
 had already opened one of the tins of choice 
 meat and was feeding the children from her fin- 
 gers. 
 
 The skipper returned to the store, took up his 
 bag of gold and went home. He lived with his 
 grandmother, old Kate Nolan (commonly known 
 in the harbor as Mother Nolan) and with his young 
 brother Cormick. The cottage was the largest in 
 the harbor — a grand house altogether. It con- 
 tained three rooms, a loft, and a lean-to extension 
 occupied by a pig and a dozen fowls. The skipper 
 found the o!J woman quatted in a low chair beside 
 the stove in the main room. This room served as 
 kitchen, dining-room, general reception, and the 
 skipper's bed-room. A ladder led up to the loft 
 from one corner. Of the remaining rooms on the 
 ground floor one was where the grandmother slept, 
 and the other one was kept spotless, musty and air- 
 less for the occasional occupation of good Father 
 
Foxey Jack Quinn Slips Away 45 
 
 McOueen, the missionary priest, who visited Chance 
 Along three times a year. Cormick slept in the 
 loft. 
 
 Mother Nolan glanced up from the red draft of 
 the stove at her grandson's entrance. She held a 
 short clay pipe in one wrinkled hand. She regarded 
 the youth inscrutably with black, undimmed eyes, 
 but did not speak. He closed the door, faced her 
 and extended the heavy bag of coins. 
 
 " Granny, we bes rich this minute ; but we'll be 
 richer yet afore we finishes," he said. " This bag 
 bes full o' gold. Granny— full o' coined English 
 gold." 
 
 " Out o' the wrack? " she queried. 
 " Aye, it was in the ship. Granny." 
 The old woman puffed on her pipe for a few 
 seconds. 
 
 " An' what else come out o' the wrack, Denny? " 
 " Diamonds an' rubies an' pearls, the wine ye 
 drank last night an' the fancy grub ye et to-day. 
 'Twas a grand wrack altogether, Granny." 
 
 Mother Nolan wagged her gray head and re- 
 turned her gaze to .• e red draft of the stove. 
 " 'Twas grand wine," she muttered. " Wracker's 
 wine! Dead man's winel " 
 
46 
 
 The Karbor Master 
 
 Not a lad 
 
 " Nay, Granny, there ye bes wrong, 
 aboard her was killed nor drownded." 
 
 " Then how come ye by the gold an' diamonds, 
 Denny?" 
 
 The skipper laughed. 
 
 " Sure, Granny, I tricked 'em ! " he exclaimed. 
 " I made use o' my wits — an' the harbor bes 
 rich." 
 
 "Saints pity ye, Denny! Rich? The folk o' 
 this harbor hain't intended for riches. Take a care, 
 Denny, for the devil bes in it. Saints presarve us! 
 No good never did come to this harbor out o' 
 wracks, Denny. Me own father was drunk wid 
 rum out o' a wrack when he fell over the edge o' 
 the clifiF, an' broke his neck on the land-wash. It 
 was for a case o' brandy out o' a wrack Pat Walen 
 an' Micky Nolan fit wid skulpin'-knives till Pat was 
 killed dead." 
 
 The skipper laughed again and expanded his 
 
 chest. 
 
 " There hain't no fightin' over wracks now," he 
 said. " I bes skipper now, Granny. Do this, do 
 that, says I — an' it's done ! An' I gives out the 
 shares to the men like I was master o' a sealin'- 
 ship after a trip to the ice — one share to every 
 
 ■■HHHipigi 
 
»r>..''-**MBfrt>q 
 
 Foxey Jack Quinn Slips A way 47 
 
 man o' the crew an' four to meself. There hain't 
 no shares for ship an' owners in this business, 
 Granny." 
 
 "An' where be the diamonds?" asked the old 
 woman. 
 
 " Hid in the ii^arsh, safe an' sound till I takes 
 'em to St. John's," replied the skipper. 
 
 " There bain't no luck in diamonds," mumbled 
 the old woman, " an' there bain't no luck in wracks. 
 The devil bes in the both o' them, Denny." 
 
 The skipper passed through his grandmother's 
 bed-rocm and entered the cold and un-aired cham- 
 ber that was reserved for the use of Father Mc- 
 Queen. He closed the door behind him, bolted it 
 stealthily and then tiptoed across the floor to the 
 bulging chimney and empty fire-place. He knelt 
 on the drafty hearth, placed the bag of gold be- 
 side his knee, and thrust both arms into the black 
 maw of the chimney. After a minute of prying and 
 pulling he withdrew them, holding a square, smoke- 
 smudged stone in his hands. Laying this on the 
 hearth, he took up the canvas bag and thrust it into 
 a cavity at the back of the chimney that had been 
 ready for the reception of just such a treasure for 
 some time. Then he replaced the stone and scram- 
 
48 
 
 The Harbor Master 
 
 bled to his feet. He glanced furtively at the one 
 small window which lighted the room, then moved 
 noiselessly to the centre of the floor and put up h.s 
 right hand to the whitewashed beam that crossed 
 the low ceiling. His fingers searched delicately or 
 a full minute; and then he lowered h.s hand, hold- 
 ing a small square of dry wood. The beam had 
 b«n skilfully hollowed at this point. From the 
 cavity he took a small box bound in red leather - 
 the same small box that he had found among the 
 sheets and blankets of a berth in the wreck. He 
 opened it and gloated over a necklace of twelve 
 diamonds and fourteen rubies glinting, «>*•"? ^"l 
 glowing on a bed of white satin. He fondled the 
 wonderful stones with his blunt finger-ends. So 
 he stood for a long time, breathing heav.ly, h.s 
 black eyes glowing like the rubies and gUnt.ng hke 
 
 the diamonds. , 
 
 " A fortune," he murmured. " Aye, houses an 
 ships, liquor, food an' sarvants. Holy saint! I 
 bes richer nor any marchant in St. John s! 
 
 At last he closed the box, put it back m the 
 cavity overhead, and returned the small square of 
 wood to its place. He looked around the room. 
 The fading light of the winter day was gray at the 
 
na 
 
 Foxey Jack Quinn Slips A way 49 
 
 window. The curtained bed was a mass of gloom ; 
 a white Christ on a cross of ebony gleamed above 
 the narrow chimney-shelf, between two candlesticks 
 of dull brass, the floor, with its few rough mats, 
 was as cold as the frozen snow outside. The skip- 
 per felt the chill of the place in his sturdy bones. 
 He shot a glance at the crucifix. It, too, was an 
 offering from the sea. His father had told him 
 how it had come ashore in the hand of a dead 
 woman, thirty years ago. Now the carven image 
 of the Saviour seemed lo gleam out from the black 
 of the cross and the shadowy wall as if with an 
 inner illumination. Black Dennis Nolan made the 
 sign with an awkward and unaccustomed finger, 
 and then went swiftly from the room. 
 
 The skipper. Bill Brtnnen and Nick Leary left 
 their cabins stealthily about midnight, met on the 
 snowy barren above the harbor, and tramped south- 
 ward to the vicinity of Nolan's Cove. They worked 
 for a little while in a clump of spruce-tuck, then 
 moved off to another thicket about half a mile away, 
 and there worked again. 
 
 " There bes some men in this harbor I wouldn't 
 trust as far as I could t'row 'em over my back," 
 said the skipper. 
 
 ■ M 
 
 ' tti 
 
 11 
 
 'Wll-^W 
 
50 
 
 The Harbor Master 
 
 Bill and Nick agreed with him. The skipper 
 glanced up at the starless sky. 
 
 " There'll be snow by sun-up," he said. 
 
 " Aye, skipper, a desperate flurry out o' the nor'- 
 west," replied Brennen. 
 
 " D'ye mean wind, too? " 
 
 " Aye, skipper, mark that ! " 
 
 All three felt a breath on their faces like the 
 very essence of cold. They turned northward and 
 set out on the homeward way. All were snug in 
 their beds long before the first pale hint of dawn. 
 The icy draft from the northwest was a little 
 stronger by that time, and it puffed a haze of dry 
 and powdery snow before it. The night was full 
 of faint, insistent voices. The roofs of the cabins 
 snapped and creaked as if icy fingers were prying 
 them apart. A sharp crackling sound came up from 
 the harbor, where the tide fumbled at the edges of 
 black ice. A dull, vast moaning that was scarcely 
 a sound at all — something as vague, yet mighty 
 as silence itself — drifted over the barrens and over 
 the sheltered habitations out of the northwest. 
 
 When the skipper awoke in the morning the 
 " flurry " was rolling over the brink of the barren, 
 and down upon Chance Along in full force. The 
 
M^« 
 
 l\ 
 
 Foxey Jack Quinn Slips Away 51 
 
 skipper piled dry wood — birch and splinters of 
 wreckage — into the round stove, until it roared a 
 miniature challenge to the ice-freighted wind out- 
 side. The bucket of water on the bench in the 
 comer was frozen to half its depth. He cut at it 
 with a knife used for skinning seals, and filled the 
 tea-kettle with fragments of ice. His young brother 
 Cormick came stiffly down the ladder from the loft, 
 and stood close to the stove shivering. 
 
 " It bes desperate weather, Denny," said the lad. 
 " Sure, I near froze in my blankets." 
 
 " Aye, Cormy, but we bes snug enough, wid no 
 call to go outside the door," replied the skipper. 
 " We has plenty o' wood an' plenty o' grub ; an' 
 we'll never lack the one or t'other so long as I 
 bes skipper o' this harbor." 
 
 " Aye, Denny, we never et so well afore ye was 
 skipper," returned Cormick, looking at his brother 
 in frank admiration "Grub — aye, an' gold too! 
 I hears ye took a uarrel o' money off that wrack, 
 Denny." 
 
 " An' there'll be more wracks, Cormy, an' we'll 
 take our pickin's from every one," said the skipper. 
 " Times bes changed, lad. The day was when we 
 took what the sea t'rowed up for us; but now we 
 
 fi ii 
 
 ^^^ 
 
52 
 
 The Harbor Master 
 
 takes wh.it we v;i nts an' leaves what we don't want 
 to the sea. 
 
 At th?.t inomer*^ the voice of old Mother Nolan 
 sounded - ct fully from the next room. 
 
 " Denny' C^^znyi" s^e called. " I be> fair per- 
 ishin' to Meath In my bed. The wind b-s blowin' 
 an' yowHn' t'rough this room like the whole end o' 
 the house was knocked out. ' 
 
 The skipper, who vas as gentle with his old 
 grandmother and as kind to his young brother as 
 the best man in the world could have been, cros-ed 
 the kitchen immediately and open- ' the door of ihe 
 old woman's chamber. Mother Nolan was sitting 
 up in her bed with a blanket on her thin, bent shoul- 
 ders, and a red flannel night-cap on her gray head. 
 
 Her small face was pinched by cold and age. but 
 her black eyes were alive md erect. 
 
 " The mats be squirmin' and flappin' on the oor 
 like live fish," she exclaimed. " Saints presarv ; all 
 poor creatures abroad this day on sea or land! 
 They'll be starved to death wid the cold, D nny, 
 for bain't I most blowed out o' my bed rigl in 
 this grand house? " 
 
 The skipper realized that le room was colder 
 than the middle apartment the cabin had any 
 
Foxty ark Quinn Slips Awa 
 
 right to be. He vent to the win low and examined 
 it. The small frimt was as ight in the '. all as 
 a dozen spi' s and a aber i thing of tar could 
 make it. h i,ad nev - l en opened since the build- 
 ing oj -he house. 
 
 " Th wind lIow, ^ r^er ' .Queen's dor 
 like spr.* from he ia .- .^k e old woman. 
 
 " Twut be n' d n the ohim^ ," said Den- 
 
 nis, aw « of n tide ^f icy wind low about his 
 leet. He ri 1 the room and opened the door f 
 the disma cl ni.cr reserved for the use of the f^s- 
 mzry. T^ sash of the window hung inv -f. 
 ti wood" splintered and the spikes twi^ 
 admitt) ,;dri - current of wind and powde- 
 
 snow. a cr of consternation and rage thv 
 
 t Hipper sprang in, banged and bolted the door be- 
 hir- him and went straight to the rafter across 
 tht middle of the ceiling. He removed the square 
 ■f wood- and the hollow bta'ad it was empty! 
 For a noment he stood with his empty hand in 
 the en inding-place, unable to move or think 
 because ox the terrific emotions which surged 
 through him. At last he went over to the chimney 
 and examined it. The bag of gold was in its place. 
 
CHAPTER IV 
 
 DEAD man's diamonds 
 
 Now I must hark back a few hours to the time 
 when the skipper and his lieutenants were on their 
 way to the barrens behind Nolan's Cove to safe- 
 guard the interests of the harbor by changing the 
 hiding-place of the common treasure of jewelry. 
 They had not been gone half an hour from Chance 
 Along before Foxey Jack Quinn slipped from his 
 cabin and glided, like a darker shadow in the dark- 
 ness, to the skipper's house. He was not ignorant 
 of his enemy's departure southward. He knew that 
 both young Cormick and old Mother Nolan were 
 heavy sleepers ; and, earlier in the evening, he had 
 seen something through the window of the guest- 
 chamber that had aroused his curiosity and a pas- 
 sion of avarice. 
 
 Foxey Jack Quinn was warmly clothed. His 
 rackets and a light pack were on his back and his 
 pockets were stuffed with food and a flask of rum. 
 He was armed with a hatchet. He crouched be- 
 
 84 
 
! 1 
 
 Dead Man's Diamonds 
 
 5S 
 
 side the window of the empty room for several 
 mmutes, listening intently and fearfully. At last 
 he wedged the strong blade of his hatchet between 
 the sash of the window and the frame and prised 
 inward, steadily and cautiously. With a shrill pro- 
 test of frosted spikes the lower part of the sash 
 gave by an inch or two. He devoted another min- 
 ute to listening, then applied the hatchet to the left 
 side of the window. He worked all round the sash 
 in this way and at last pushed it inward with both 
 hands until it hung below the sill by a couple of 
 bent spikes. He thrust the hatchet in his belt and 
 entered the room. He put up his hand to the rafter 
 that crossed the low ceiling and so felt his way 
 along to the middle of the room. Halting there 
 he removed the fur mitten from his right hand and 
 felt about until his chilled fingers discovered a thin 
 crack in the whitewash of the rafter. The little 
 square of dry wood came away in his fingers. Next 
 moment he held the leather-bound casket in his 
 hand. He opened it and felt the cold jewels which 
 he could not see. Then he closed it, slipped it into 
 a pocket, replaced the square of wood in the beam 
 and made his cautious way back to the window 
 He crawled over the sill, turned and tried to lift 
 
 3i 
 
56 
 
 The Harbor Master 
 
 the sash upward and outward to its place. The 
 sash came up easily enough but the bent spikes 
 would not hold. After a few minutes of fruitless 
 effort he turned away, leaving the window wide 
 open. The sky was black as the throat of a chim- 
 ney. A breath of wind came from the northwest. 
 Foxey Jack Quinn was not weatherwise, however. 
 He climbed the path to the edge of the barrens and 
 turned to the north. 
 
 " Diamonds white an' red," he muttered. " I seen 
 'em, and I knowed what they was. Every little 
 stone bes worth more nor all the fore-and-afters 
 on the coast. I bes a rich man now — richer nor 
 the governor, richer nor any marchant in St. John's 
 — richer nor the king o' England, maybe. Holy 
 saints be praised! Never agin will I wet a line 
 at the fishin' nor feel the ache o' hunger in my belly. 
 Denny Nolan will soon be cursin' the day he batted 
 me about like a swile." 
 
 His plans for the immediate future were clear 
 in his mind but for the more distant future they 
 were vague, though rosy. He would make the ten 
 miles to Brig Tickle in less than three hours, and 
 from there turn a point or two westward from 
 the coast and strike across country tj the head of 
 
Dead Man's Diamonds 
 
 57 
 
 Witless Bay. He had a cousin in Witless Bay and 
 could afford to rest in that cousin's house for a 
 few hours. There he would hire a team of dogs 
 and make the next stage in quick time. Dennis 
 Nolan, who would not discover the theft of the 
 diamonds until after sun-up, would be left hope- 
 lessly astern by that time. So Quinn figured it out. 
 On reaching St. John's he would go to a shebeen 
 that he knew, in a narrow and secluded back street, 
 and there rent a room. Then he would commence 
 the business of disposing of one of the diamonds. 
 Just how he was to go about this he did not know, 
 but he felt sure that Mother McKay, who kept the 
 shebeen, would be able to give him some valuable 
 advice on the subject. And after that? Well, the 
 prospects were rosy but vague. He would get word 
 to his wife in some way to move herself and the 
 children to Witless Bay. He would send her 
 twenty dollars, and after that, for the rest of his 
 li'' . ten good dollars every month. As for him- 
 i.'it, le would sail away to some big city " up- 
 ak i " — to Boston, New York or London — dis- 
 pose of the necklace stone by stone, buy a great 
 house and live in idle luxury. He would dress like 
 a merchant, eat hearty every day, drink deep and 
 
 II 
 
 i 
 
 -41 
 
58 
 
 The Harbor Master 
 
 sleep vvarin. He had heard of such things — of 
 men who never set their hands to a stroke of work 
 from year's end to year's end. He would live like 
 a king ^nd drink like a lord and, like the good 
 father and husband that he firmly believed himself 
 to be, he would send ten dollars to his wife every 
 month. 
 
 With such exalted dreams as these did Foxey 
 Jack Quinn occupy his mind as he hurried north- 
 ward along the edge of the snowy barrens. He 
 had travelled about two miles when he suddenly 
 became aware of the increased force and coldness 
 of the wind. Snow as dry as desert-sand and as 
 sharp as splintered ice blew against his face, sting- 
 ing his eyes (one of which was still half closed), 
 and smarting the battered flesh of brow and cheek. 
 Then, for the first time, he realized that one of 
 those dreaded storms out of the northwest was 
 approaching. But for the treasure in his pocket 
 he would have faced about and returned to Chance 
 Along; but as it was he drew his fur cap lower 
 about his ears, wound a woollen scarf around the 
 lower part of his face and held doggedly on his 
 way. The wind lulled for a little while, quieting 
 his apprehensions. His rackets were on his feet 
 
Dead Man's Diamonds 
 
 59 
 
 now and he pushed along briskly over the pallid 
 snow, through the whispering dark. He had cov- 
 ered another mile before the skirmishers of the 
 storm rushed over him again out of the black north- 
 west. That bitter wind soaked through his heavy 
 garments like water and chilled him to the heart. 
 Its breath of dry snow, embittered and intensified 
 by its rushing journey across frozen seas and a 
 thousand miles of frozen wilderness, blinded him, 
 cut him and snatched at his lips as if it wouM pluck 
 life itself from his lungs. He turned his back to 
 it and crouched low, gasping curses and half-choked 
 prayers to the saints. Then the full fury of the 
 storm reached him, the dark grew pallid with flying 
 snow-dust, and the frozen earth seemed to quake 
 beneath his hands and knees. For a minute he lay 
 flat, fighting for breath with his arms encircling 
 his face. He knew that he must find shelter of some 
 description immediately or else die terribly of suf- 
 focation and cold. Surely he could find a thicket 
 of spruce-tuck near at hand? He staggered to his 
 feet, stood hunched for a second to get the points 
 of the compass clear in his mind, then plunged for- 
 ward, fighting through the storm like a desperate 
 swimmer breasting the surf. He thought he was 
 
 9 
 
60 
 
 The Harbor Master 
 
 moving straight inland wbere he would be sure to 
 stumble soon against a sheltering thicket. But the 
 onslaught of the storm had bewildered him. He 
 struggled onward; but not toward the t^vlsted 
 clumps of spruces. His eyes were shut agamst the 
 lashing of the snow and he held his arms locked 
 before him across his mouth and nostrils. The 
 wind eddied about him, thick as blown spray with 
 its swirling slieets of ice particles. It struck him 
 on all sides, lashing his face and tearing at his back 
 
 whatever way he turned A scream of horror 
 
 rang out for an instant and was smothered by the 
 roaring of the storm. So the spirit of Jack Quinn 
 was whirled away on the tempest -God knows 
 whither! -and the poor body came to rest on the 
 frozen land-wash far below the edge of the blind, 
 
 unheeding cliff. 
 
 The storm raged all day out of the northwest, 
 and the folk of Chance Along kept to their cabms 
 and clustered around their little stoves. Even Black 
 Dennis Nolan did not venture farther than fifty 
 yards from his own door. He replaced the window 
 of Father McQueen's room, said nothing of his 
 loss to Cormick ard the old woman, and after 
 breakfast went out and fought his way along to 
 
Dead Man's Diamonds 
 
 61 
 
 Foxey Quinn's cabin. He found the woman in 
 tears. 
 
 " Where bes Jack ? " he asked, drawing the door 
 tight behind him and standing with his hand on 
 the latch. 
 
 " He hain't here," said the woman. " He was 
 gone from the bed when first I opened my 
 eyes." 
 
 The skipper was a hard man in many ways, even 
 then. Later, as he became established in his power, 
 the hardness grew in him with the passing of every 
 day. But always a tender spot could be found in 
 his heart for women and children. 
 
 " He was to my house last night," he said. " He 
 bust in a windy an' tried to rob me — aye, an' 
 maybe he done it." 
 
 The woman covered her face with her rough, 
 red hands and moaned like a wounded thing. 
 
 " I hain't holdin' it agin' ye," continued the skip- 
 per. " I fight wid men, not women an' childern. 
 I fit Jack Quinn fair an' bate him fair. Let it be ! 
 If ye wants for food, Polly — whenever ye wants 
 for food an' clothin' — send the word to me. I 
 bes skipper in this harbor — aye, an' more nor 
 skipper." 
 
 iJM^M-^UM 
 
68 
 
 The Harbor Master 
 
 He turned then and let himself out into the shriek- 
 ing storm. Polly Quinn stared at the door and 
 the children clustered about her and pulled at her 
 shabby skirts. 
 
 " Aye, he tells true," she murmured. " Never a 
 hard word did Mother Nolan ever have from him. 
 He was a good son to his mother an' the old skip- 
 per. But them as crosses him — the holy saints 
 presarve 'em! Men-folks must be his dogs or his 
 enemies. He batted me poor Jack nigh to death 
 wid his big hands." 
 
 She turned at last and fed the glowing stove. 
 Then she set about getting breakfast for herself 
 and the children. There was enough hard bread 
 in the house to last the day. There was a pinch 
 of tea in the canister. Jack had drunk the wme 
 from the wreck and taken away with him all that 
 had been left of the tinned meats wbich the skipper 
 had brought over the day before. The woman ob- 
 served these things and gave some thoughts to 
 them. She glanced up at the blinding white tumult 
 against the driited window, reflecting that her 
 husband had taken the best food in the house — 
 enough to last him for two days, at least — and 
 had left behind him, for herself and three children, 
 
 v^-ffm^Y 
 
Dead Man's Diamonds 
 
 68 
 
 eight cakes of hard bread and a pinch of tea. Her 
 faded eyes glowed and her lips hardened. 
 
 Black Dennis Nolan brooded all day by the stove 
 with his big hands clasped idly between his knees. 
 The grandmother sat near him, in a tattered arm- 
 chair, smoking her pipe and mumbling wise saws 
 and Iroken stories of the past. 
 
 "I bes a storm-child," she mumbled. "Aye, 
 sure, wasn't I born a night in winter wid jist sich 
 a flurry as this one howlin' over Chance Along — 
 aye, an' wid a caul over me face. So I has the 
 power o' seein' the fairies." And then, " me man 
 were bigger nor ye, Denny. Skipper Tim, he were. 
 Built the first fcre-an'-after on this coast, he did." 
 And later -"There hain't no luck in diamonds. 
 The divil bes in 'em." 
 
 Young Cormick sat on the other side of the stove, 
 busily carving a block of wood with a clasp-knife.' 
 
CHAPTER V 
 
 FATHER MCQUEEN VISITS HIS FLOCK 
 
 After the storm from the northwest had blown 
 itself out, a spell of soft weather set in along the 
 coast. East and southeast winds brought fog and 
 mild rains, the ice rotted along the landwash and 
 the snow dwindled from the barrens and left drip- 
 ping hummocks and patches of black bog exposed. 
 Tihe wreck in Nolan's Cove had gone to pieces dur- 
 ing the blizzard, sunk its cargo of pianos, manu- 
 factured cotton and hardware in six fathoms of 
 water and flung a liberal proportion of its spars 
 and timbers ashore. 
 
 Black Dennis Nolan felt as sure that Jack Quinn 
 had perished in the storm as if he had seen him 
 prone and stiff under the drifting snow. The fool 
 had left the harbor that night, sometime before 
 the onslaught of the blizzard, but after midnight 
 to a certainty. He had gone out — and he had 
 not returned! There could be no doubt about his 
 miserable fate. The 
 
 cipper pictured him 
 
 m 
 
 his 
 
 64 
 
Father McQueen Visits His Fl ock 65 
 
 clear mind as lying somewhere out on the barrens 
 with the red-bound casket clutched in a frozen hand. 
 So the skipper devoted a day to searching for him 
 over the thawing, sodden wilderness behind the 
 harbor. He took Bill Brennen and Nick Leary 
 with him. The other men did not grumble at being 
 left behind, perhaps because they were learning the 
 unwisdom of grumbling against the skipper's or- 
 ders, more likely because they did not care a dang 
 if Foxey Jack Quinn was ever found or not, dead 
 or alive. Quinn had not been popular. The skip- 
 per informed his two companions that the missing 
 man had broken into his house and robbed him of 
 an article of great value. 
 
 " We bes sure to find him somewheres handy," 
 said Bill Brennen. " Foxey Jack was always a fool 
 about the weather — duln't know east from west 
 when the wind blowed What was it he robbed 
 from ye, skipper?" 
 
 " Whatever it was, ye'll both git yer share if 
 we finds it," replied the skipper. " More nor that 
 I bain't willin' to say." 
 
 He fixed Bill Brennen with a glance of his black 
 eyes that made that worthy tremble from his scan- 
 tily-haired scalp to the soles of his big, shuffling 
 
68 
 
 The Harbor Master 
 
 feci. Bill was one of those people who cannot get 
 along without a master. In the past, for lack of 
 another, he had made an exacting tyrant out of a 
 very mild and loving wife; but since the masterful 
 opening of the new skipper's reign he had snapped 
 his fingers at his wife, who had ruled him for close 
 upon twenty years. He was shrewd, though weak, 
 and his heart was full of the stuff in which per- 
 sonal loyalty is bred and fostered. If the hand that 
 beat him was the hand that fed him — the hand 
 of his master — then tin beating seemed an honor- 
 able and reasonable thing to him. True, the skipper 
 had not yet lifted a fist to him; but in this case 
 darkling glances served quite as well as blows. Bill 
 had seen the strength of Dennis from the first and 
 from the first had loved it as a thing to serve — 
 as the spirit of mastery. Nick Leary, though a 
 much younger man than Bill Brennen, possessed the 
 same spirit of service. 
 
 The three searched the barrens all day, from 
 sun-up to dark, north, south and inland. It was 
 a gray day, sloppy underfoot and raw overhead. 
 At one time the skipper halted and lit his pipe 
 within three yards of the point of the edge of the 
 clifif from which Quinn had pitched to his death; 
 
 '^^fSXfi. s»^ 
 
Father McQueen Visits His F lock 67 
 
 but wind, snow and thaw had obliterated all trace 
 of those blindly staggering feet. The searchers ex- 
 plored the inner. ...,gled recesses of a dozen thick- 
 ets of spruce-tuck, snarled coverts of alders, hol- 
 lows hip-deep in sodden snow, and the pits and 
 rocky shelters of knolls and hummocks. 
 
 "He bes hid away somewheres, sure's Saint 
 Peter was a fisherman." said the .skipper. 
 
 "Axin' yer pardon, skipper, I bes t'inkin' as 
 how maybe he hain't dead." said Nick Learv. hum- 
 bly. " Maybe he got t'rough to Brig Tickle, sir, 
 ar. from the Tickle hcj o. h.adin' for Witless 
 Bay this very minute." 
 The skipper shook his h.jl 
 There hain't a man on the coast could li-e 
 t'rough a flurry the like o' that widout he found 
 shelter." he replied. " He bes dead somewheres 
 widin free or four mile o' Chance Along, ye kin 
 lay to that, Nick." 
 
 They returned to the harbor after dark and said 
 not a word to the others about the business that 
 had occupied them throughout the day; Brennen 
 and Nick Leary were asked many questions, but 
 they hed valiantlv, saying that they had been spy- 
 ing out boat-timber. Had they admitted that they 
 
 EMA^^^MJ'^..-^^ 
 
68 
 
 The Harbor Master 
 
 had devoted a whole day to searching over the 
 barren for the body of Foxey Jack Quinn a sus- 
 picion that the missing man had carried away some- 
 thing of extraordinary value would have fired the 
 harbor and set every able-bodied inhabitant on the 
 quest. That would not have suited the skipper's 
 plans. He did not want a knowledge of the neck- 
 lace of diamonds and rubies to become general. 
 
 Doubtless the search for Jack Quinn would have 
 been continued on the following day but for the 
 unexpected arrival in Chance Along of the good 
 Father McQueen. The missionary's visits were 
 usually unexpected. He came now from the north- 
 ward, on foot and unattended. In a haversack on 
 his sturdy shoulders he carried food, two books of 
 devotions and one of Irish poetry, and his vest- 
 ments. Children who were playing a game called 
 " deer-hunting " on the barrens behind the harbor 
 were the first to know of the priest's approach. 
 They shouted the news down to the gray cabins 
 on the slope. A few of the men were working out 
 among the rocks, under the skipper's supervision; 
 others were cobbling skiffs and bullies that lay high 
 and dry beneath the empty stages, and the old fel- 
 lows were sitting around, giving advice and suck- 
 
Father McQueen Visits His Flock 69 
 
 ing at rank pipes. The harbor was at peace; and, 
 what was still more unusual, it was free from 
 hunger-fear. By the skipper's first important stroke 
 of business his reign promised to be prosperous, 
 even though tyrannical. At word that Father 
 McQueen was sighted all work was stopped. The 
 dories among the outer rocks were pulled to the 
 land-wash. The men left their tarring and caulking 
 under the drying-stages. Women issued from the 
 cabins with shawls thrown hastily about their heads 
 and shoulders. The skipper led the way up the 
 twisty path to the level wilderness above. There 
 was one man in the world whom he feared — 
 feared without bitterness even as he did the saints 
 on their thrones of gold. That man was Father 
 McQueen. 
 
 Cap in hand, Black Dennis Nolan took the haver- 
 sack from the priest and slung it on his own shoul- 
 der. 
 
 "Ye've walked a weary way, father," he said. 
 " Ye bes mud and water to the knees, sir." 
 
 "But a step, Denny. Naught but a step, my 
 son," replied the missionary, cheerfully. " I was 
 in Witless Bay for two holy baptisms, a marriage 
 an' a wake, an' I just took the notion to step over 
 
70 
 
 The Harbor Master 
 
 an" see ye all in Chance Along. Pax vobisciim, all 
 of ye! My children, ye look grand an' hearty. 
 How is Mother Nolan, the dear old body? Spry as 
 ever ye say? Praise the saints for that." 
 
 The people, men, women, and children, clustered 
 round him with beaming faces, and in return he 
 beamed at one and all. and spoke to a dozen by 
 name. He leaned on the skipper's arm. 
 
 " But it bes still early in the forenoon, father, 
 said Dennis. " Where did yer reverence sleep last 
 
 night then?" 
 
 " Snug as a fox in his den, my son," replied the 
 sturdy old man. " When dark came on I found 
 me a dry cave in the side of a knoll, an' dry moss 
 
 an' sticks for a fire." 
 
 " It hain't right for yer reverence to sleep out 
 these rough winter nights," protested the skipper. 
 - Maybe ye'U be gettin' yer death one o these 
 
 nights, sir" . , , , 
 
 " Nay, Denny, don't ye go worrym about me, 
 said the priest. *' I am as tough as a husky." 
 
 He descended the path to the clustered cabins, 
 still holding the skipper's arm ar.d with the popu- 
 lace sliding and crowding at his muddy heels. His 
 gray eyes were as keen as they were kindly. He 
 
 •/^:- 
 
 
 *-'fT.tf? 
 
Father McQueen Visits His Flock 71 
 
 remarked several of the great iron rings on the 
 rocks to seaward. 
 
 "What are ye up to now, Denny?" he asked, 
 halting for a moment, and pointing with a plump 
 but strong and weather-beaten hand. 
 
 The skipper's black eyes followed the line indi- 
 cated. 
 
 " That bes a grand idee o' mine, yer reverence " 
 he answered, after a moment's hesitation. " Sure 
 rn tell ye all about it, sir, after ye get yerself dry 
 alongside the stove." 
 
 "Something to do with wrecks, Denny?" que- 
 ried th<" priest. 
 
 " Aye. yer reverence, it bes a part o' the gear 
 for salvin' wrecks," returned Nolan. 
 
 At the si -pper's door Father McQueen dismissed 
 his followers with a blessing and a promise to see 
 them all after dinner. Then, after a few kindlv 
 words to Mother Nolan, he entered his own room 
 where Cormick had a fire of drift-wood roaring in 
 the chimney. He soon returned to the kitchen m 
 socks and moccasins of the skipper's, a rusty cas- 
 sock and a red blanket. The innate dignity and 
 virtue of the old man gave to his grotesque attire 
 the seemmg of robes of glory, in spite of the very 
 
 '"^li 
 
 ^fil" 
 
Tf 
 
 The Harbor Master 
 
 human twinkle in his gray eyes and the shadow 
 of a grin about the corners of his large mouth. 
 He accepted a chair close to the stove — but not 
 the most comfortable chair, which was Mother 
 Nolan's. They knew his nature too well to offer 
 him that. The skipper gave him a bowl of hot 
 wine, mulled with sugar and spices, which he ac- 
 cepted without demur and sipped with relish. Af- 
 ter a few minutes of general conversation, during 
 which Mother Nolan expatiated on her rheumatics, 
 he turned to the skipper, and laid a hand on that 
 young giant's knee. 
 
 " So ye are preparing gear for the salving of 
 wrecks, my son? " he queried. 
 
 " Ave, yer reverence, we bes fixin' chains an' 
 lines among the rocks so as maybe we kin get a holt 
 on whatever comes ashore,* replied Nolan. 
 
 " A good idea," returned the other. And then, 
 " Have ye had any wrecks already this winter? " 
 
 " Aye, yer reverence, there be'd one in Nolan s 
 
 Cove." 
 
 " So? Did any of the poor souls come ashore 
 
 alive? ' 
 
 " Aye, yer reverence, every mother's son o' them. 
 They come ashore in their boats, sir, an' left the 
 
 %i 
 
Father McQueen Visits His Flo ck 73 
 
 ship acrost a rock wid a hole in her bows bigger 
 nor this house." 
 
 " And where are they now ? " 
 " That . couldn't tell, yer reverence. They set 
 out for Nap Harbor, to the south, that very night 
 an got there safe an' sound. An' I heard tell sir' 
 as how they sailed from Nap Harbor for St. John's' 
 in a fore-an'-after." 
 The priest regarded the skipper keenly. 
 " Safe and sound, ye say. Denny? " 
 "Aye, yer reverence, safe an' sound, wid their 
 clothes o , their backs an' food an' drink in their 
 pockets an' bheir bellies." 
 
 " I am glad to hear it. Denny. Ye sent them 
 on the.r nay warmly clad and full-fed; but I'm 
 thmk,ng. my son. the> must have left something 
 behmd them 'f Ifs grand wine this, Denny " 
 ^ "Aye. father, it bes grand wine. It came out 
 o the wreck, sir. along wid a skiff-load o' fancy 
 grub. There bes wine, spirits an' tinned stuff in 
 every house o' the harbor, yer reverence. But the 
 
 cargo weren't no manner o- use tons ^ an' the 
 hull broke up an' went all abroad two days back " 
 i>o ye got nought from the wreck but a skiff- 
 full of drmk and tood?" 
 
74 
 
 The Harbor Master 
 
 i 
 
 " I bain't say in' that, father dear, though it were 
 as peaceful an' dacent a wrack as ever yer reverence 
 heard tell of. Maybe yer reverence bes buildin' 
 another church somewheres? — or a mission-house? 
 — or sendin' money up-along to the poor hay- 
 
 thens? " 
 
 " Aye, Denny, I am doing all these things," re- 
 plied the priest. " Since first I set foot on New- 
 foundland I have built nine little churches, twelve 
 mission-hou'-es and one hospital — aye. and sent a 
 mint of money to the poor folk of other lands. 
 My dear parents left me a fortune of three hun- 
 dreds of English pounds a year, Denny ; and every 
 year I give two hundred and fifty pounds of that 
 fortune to the work of the Holy Church and beg 
 and take twice as much more from the rich to give 
 the poor." 
 
 The skipper nodded. This information was not 
 
 new to him. 
 
 " I was thinkin', yer reverence, as how some day 
 ye'd maybe be buildin' us a little church here in 
 Chance Along." he said. 
 
 " It would take money, my son — money and 
 hard work." returned the priest. 
 
 " Aye, father dear, 'twould take money an' work. 
 
 ?N ■ . '•. _ ^_ 
 
 i-.-!^ ->.4- J 
 
 y^&Si-r.i== 
 
There bes fifty golden sovereigns I knows of for 
 yer reverence." 
 ** Clean money ? " 
 "Aye, yer reverence." 
 "From the wreck. Denny?" 
 "Aye, father dear, from the last wrack " 
 
 Without blood on it, my son > " 
 " Widout so much as a drop o' blood on it, so 
 help me Samt Peter!" 
 
 "And the otherlads, Denny? Are ye the only 
 one m the harbor able to pay me som'ething tr 
 the building of a church?" 
 
 There was .he one question on the good priesfs 
 tongue and another in his clear eyes. 
 
 "I bes skipper, father dear, an' takes skipper's 
 
 Shares and pays skipper's shares," replied Nolan. 
 
 But for me thered not W„ one bottle o' wine 
 
 aboard her would never have got ashore in their 
 boats for want of a light on the land-wash As I 
 kin spare ye fifty pounds for the holy work yer 
 reverence there bes nineteen n,en o' this ha'rbor 
 km each be sparin' ye ten." 
 Father McQueen nodded his gray head 
 " Then we'll have the little church. Denny." he 
 
 1 
 
76 
 
 The Harbor Master 
 
 said. " Aye, lad, we'll have the little church shining 
 out to sea from the cliffs above Chance Along." 
 
 Father McQueen was a good man and a good 
 priest, and would as readily have given his last 
 breath as his last crust of bread in the service of 
 his Master; but for the past thirty years he had 
 lived and worked in a land of rocks, fogs and want, 
 among people who snatched a livelihood from the 
 sea with benumbed fingers and wrists pitted deep 
 with scars of salt-water boils. He had seen them 
 risk their lives for food on the black rocks, tlie 
 grindii;g ice and the treacherous tide; and now 
 his heart felt with their hearts, his eyes saw with 
 their eyes. Their bitter birthright was the harvest 
 of tlie coastwise seas; and he now realized their 
 real and ethical right to all that they might gather 
 from the tide, be it cod, caplin, herrings or the 
 timbers and freights of wrecked ships. He saw 
 that a wreck, like a good run of fish, was a thing 
 to profit by thankfully and give praise to the saints 
 for; but he held that no gift of God was to be 
 gathered in violence. In the early years of his 
 work he had heard rumors and seen indications of 
 things that had fired him with a righteous fury and 
 pity — rumors and hints of mariners struggling 
 
 
Father McQueen Vi,,>. T^;. r.-,^ -, 
 landward only ,o be killed like so many seals a1 
 
 rs::r T^: "^-''^ '° "^^^'^ -^^ '■^'' ^'^e; 
 
 such Zes al isTadTr f"" ''^'' """"'"'^ 
 ™« »s th.s had at first failed to understand 
 
 ' '"'^ "" "''K"^': but with his ton^e and his 
 
 of Holy ch„rch and of the Reverend pI. L" 
 McQueen. Even the wildest and dullest ™ Jl^^ 
 
 was L^r""'' r '^^"■«' '" •■■- •"- «^ 
 n m the surf. They even learned to refrain 
 
 pounded vessel that w,« still manned by a prj 
 test ng crew; and with the fear of the goL ori ^ 
 
 ^»ay), they would do their best to bring the un- 
 fortt^ate mariners safely ashore and then s Je the 
 vessel wrth the hungry sea snare the 
 
 That even a deserted or unpeopled wreck .hould 
 
 Ip e h , T"""' ™^ ""' '"^ "«'' '° some 
 peope. but „ seemed right to Father McQueen- 
 
The Harbor Master 
 
 78 
 
 wrote to his bishop in the spring. " Thanks to GoJ 
 and two wrecks we got through the winter without 
 
 starving." 
 
 Father McQueen did not hurry away from 
 Chance Along. Six months had passed since his 
 last visit and so he felt that this section of his flock 
 demanded both time and attention. His way of 
 knowing his people was by learning their outward 
 as well as their inner lives, their physical and also 
 their spiritual being. He was not slow to see and 
 understand the skipper's aml.ltions and something 
 of his methods. He read Black Dennis Nolan for 
 a strong, active, ma.'^terful and relentless nature. 
 He heard of Foxey Jack Qumn's departure and of 
 the fight at the edge of the cliff that had preceded 
 it He heard also that Quinn had robbed the skip- 
 per before departing; but exactly what he had 
 robbed him of he could not learn. He questioned 
 Dennis himself and had a lesson in the art of eva- 
 sion. He found it no great task to comfort the 
 woman and children of the fugitive Jack. They 
 were well fed and had the skipper's word that they 
 should never lack food and clothing. He was not 
 surprised to learn from the deserted wife that tl e 
 man had been a bully at home as well as abroad. 
 
 
Father McQueen Visits His Flock 
 
 79 
 
 For his own part, he had never thought very highly 
 of Foxey Jack Quinn. He visited every cabin in 
 the harbor, and those that sheltered old and sick 
 he visited many times. He was keenly interested in 
 the work that the skipper was doing among the 
 rocks in front of the harbor, and did not fail to 
 point out persistently and authoritatively that chains 
 and ropes designed to facilitate the saving of 
 freights would also facilitate the saving of human 
 hves. The skipper agreed with him respectfully. 
 On the morning of Father McQueen's arrival in 
 Chance Along, the skipper dispatched Nick Leary 
 to Witless Bay to learn whether or no Jack Quinn 
 had reached that place. Leary returned on the 
 evening of the following day with the expected 
 information that nothing had been seen of the 
 missing man in Witless Bay. In his pocke^ he 
 brought a recent issue of St. John's newspaper for 
 which he had paid two shillings and two drams of 
 rum. This he brought as an offering to the skip- 
 per -for the skipper could read print almost as 
 well as a merchant and had a thirst for information 
 of the outside world. 
 
 The first item of news which the skipper man- 
 aged to spell out was the notice of a reward of 
 
MICROCOPY RESOLUTION TEST CHART 
 
 (ANSI and ISO TEST CHART No. 2) 
 
 1.0 
 
 I.I 
 
 1.25 
 
 ■- ||li£ 
 
 I 5 C 
 
 mmt 
 
 !*" Ill 3.6 
 
 13.2 
 
 1^; 
 
 1.4 
 
 2.5 
 
 2.2 
 2.0 
 
 1.8 
 
 1.6 
 
 M -APPLIED IM/^GE Inc 
 
 Sv '6i3 tost MoTi Slteel 
 
 r.a R-hester. Ne« York 1 «609 USA 
 
 ^S '16) 482 - 0300 - Phone 
 
 ^= v'16) 288 - 5989 - Fax 
 
80 
 
 The Harbor Master 
 
 five hundred pounds awaiting the person who 
 should recover Lady Harwood's necklace of twelve 
 diamonds and fourteen rubies and deliver it to Mr. 
 Peter Wren, solicitor, Water Street, St. John's. 
 The notice went on to say that this necklace, to- 
 gether with other smaller and less valuable articles 
 of jewelry, had been taken by force from the ship- 
 wrecked company of the bark Durham Castle, which 
 had gone ashore and to pieces in a desolate place 
 called Frenchman's Cove, on the east coast. It also 
 gave the date of the wreck and stated that if the 
 necklace should be returned undamaged, no ques- 
 tions would be asked. The skipper saw in a mo- 
 ment that the reward was offered for the stones 
 which he had found in the deserted berth and which 
 Quinn had robbed him of. Five hundred pounds? 
 He shook his head over that. He had read some- 
 where, at some time, about the value of diamonds, 
 and he felt sure that the necklace was worth many 
 times the money offered for its recovery. So the 
 loss of it was known to the world ? He had a great 
 idea of the circulation of the St. John's Herald. 
 He had retired to a secluded spot above the harbor 
 to read the paper, and now he glanced furtively 
 over his shoulder. No limb of the law was in sight. 
 
aaHM 
 
 Father McQueen Visits His Flock 81 
 
 He gazed abroad over the sodden, gloomy barrens 
 and reflected bitterly that the treasure lay there in 
 some pit or hollow, in a dead mans pocket, perhaps 
 within shouting-distance of where he stood. He 
 swore that he would recover it yet — but not for 
 the reward offered by Mr. Peter Wren in behalf 
 of Lady Harwood. He re-read the notice slowly, 
 following letter and word with muttering lips and 
 tracing finger. Then, at a sudden thought of Father 
 McQueen, he tore away that portion of the outer 
 sheet which contained the notice. 
 
 The skipper returned to his house and found the 
 missionary seated beside the stove chatting with 
 Mother Nolan. 
 
 " Here bes a paper, yer reverence, Nick Leary 
 fetched over f -om Witless Bay," he said. " It bes 
 tored, sir; but maybe ye'll find some good readin' 
 left in it." 
 
 The good father was charmed. He had not seen 
 a newspaper for six weeks. He dragged a pair of 
 spectacles from a pocket of his rusty cassock, set 
 them upon his nose and hooked them over his ears, 
 and read aloud every word save those which the 
 skipper had torn away. 
 
 On the fourth night after his arrival Father 
 
82 
 
 The Harbor Master 
 
 McQueen drew a plan of the little church which he 
 intended to build above the harbor. 
 
 " It will be the pride of the coast and a glory 
 to Chance Along," he said. " Denny, I am proud 
 of ye for the suggestion. Ye said ye'd give me a 
 hundred pounds toward it, I think ? " 
 
 " Fifty pound, yer reverence ! Fifty pound bes 
 what I offered ye, sir," returned the skipper, with 
 dismay in his voice. 
 
 Father McQueen sighed and shook his head. A 
 cold thrill of anxiety passed through Dennis Nolan. 
 With the good father displeased there would be an 
 end of his luck. He glanced at the priest and saw 
 that he was still shaking his head. 
 
 The skipper loved his new store of gold because 
 it meant the beginning of a fortune and therefore 
 the extension of his power; but on the other hand 
 he feared that to displease the missionary now in 
 the matter of a part of that store might turn the 
 saints themselves against him. And without the 
 good-will of the saints how could he expect his share 
 of luck? — his share of wrecks? 
 
 " I has seventy-five pound for er reverence," 
 he said. " It bes a powerful sight of money, father 
 dear, but ye bes welcome to it." 
 
" It is well, my son," returned the missionary. 
 The skipper felt a glow of relief. He had 
 avoided the risk of displeasing the saints and at the 
 same time had saved twenty-five pounds. Even 
 when you earn your money after the skipper's 
 method, twenty-five pounds looks like quite a con- 
 siderable lump of money. He took up a candle 
 and fetched the sum in yellow English sovereigns 
 from his hiding-place. 
 
 Father McQueen devoted the following morning 
 to collecting what he could from the other men 
 of the harbor. The skipper had furnished him with 
 a list of all who had shared in the golden harvest. 
 It began to look as if the church would be a fine 
 one. Not satisfied with this, he issued orders that 
 the timber was to be cut and sawn without delay 
 so that the building of the church should be com- 
 menced when he returned to Chance Along in June. 
 He even drew up specifications of the lumber that 
 would be required and the ..one for the foundation. 
 Then, leaving in the skipper's care all the gold 
 which he had collected for the sacred edifice, he 
 marched sturdily away toward the north. The 
 skipper accompanied him and carried his knapsack, 
 for ten miles of the way. 
 
 u 
 
 ll 
 
 ;t."* "fSKJ- 
 
 J: 
 
 f-e: 
 
84 
 
 The Harbor Master 
 
 Two days aftt the missionary's departure a gale 
 blew in from the southeast; and at the first gray 
 of a roaring dawn the look-out from Squid Beach 
 came hammering at the skipper's door with news 
 of a ship ^n the rocks under the cliffs a few miles 
 along the coast. Every man and boy who could 
 swing a leg turned out. The gear was shouldered 
 and the skipper led the way northward at a run, 
 lantern in hand. They found the wreck about a 
 mile north of Squid Beach, close against the face 
 of the cliff. She had struck with her port-bow and 
 was listed sharply landward. The seas beat so 
 furiously upon her that every seventh comer washed 
 her clean and sent the spray smoking over her 
 splintered spars. She showed no sign of life. She 
 lay in so desperate a place that even Black Dennis 
 Nolan, with all his gear and wits, could do nothinr; 
 but wait until the full fury of the gale should 
 dimmish. 
 
 It was close upon noon when the first line was 
 made fast between the cliff and the broken fore- 
 mast of the wreck. The wind had slackened and 
 
 the seas fallen in a marked degree by this time. 
 
 Looking down from tl.c cliff the men of Chance 
 
 Along could see the slanted deck, cleared of all 
 
Father McQueen Visits His Flock 
 
 85 
 
 superstructures and bulwarks, the stumps of spars 
 with only the foremast intact to the cross-trees and 
 a tangle of rigging, yards, canvas and tackle awash 
 against the face of the cliff. Something -a 
 sw.;thed human figure, perhaps -was lashed in 
 the fore-top. 
 
 The skipper was the first to venture a passage 
 from the edge of the cliflf to the foremast. He 
 made it with several life-lines around his waist 
 He reached the bundle lashed to the cross-trees 
 and. clinging with hands and feet, looked into the 
 face of an unconscious but living woman. So he 
 hung for a long half-minute, staring. Then, hoist- 
 mg himself up to a more secure position, he pulled 
 a flask of brandy from his pocket. 
 
 So Black Dennis Nolan brought back to con- 
 sciousness the person who was to be the undoing 
 of his great plans! 
 
 II 
 
 ^^11 
 
 'I 
 
 
.AFTER VI 
 
 THE GIRL FROM THE CROSS-TREES 
 
 Clinging to the cross-trees, with the winter seas 
 smoking over the slanted deck beneath him and 
 the whole wrenched fabric of the ship quaking at 
 every sloshing blow, Black Dennis Nolan pressed 
 the mouth of the flask to the girl's colorless lips. 
 A lurch of the hull sent the brandy streaming over 
 her face ; but in a second and better-timed attempt 
 he succeeded in forcing a little of it between her 
 teeth. He pulled the glove from her left hand — 
 a glove of brown leather lined with gray fur and 
 sodden with water — and rubbed the icy palm and 
 wrist with the liquor. There were several rings on 
 the fingers; but he scarcely noticed them. He 
 thought of nothing but the girl herself. Never 
 before had he seen or dreamed of such a face as 
 hers, and a breathless desire possessed him to see 
 her eyes unveiled. He worked feverishly, heedless 
 of the yeasting seas beneath, of the wind that wor- 
 ried at him as if it would tear him from his leaping 
 
 86 
 
The Girl From the Cross-tr ees 87 
 
 perch, of the weahh of cargo under the reeking 
 deck and the men of Chance Along on the edge 
 of the chff. He returned the glove to the left hand 
 with fumbhng fingers, stripped the other hand and 
 rubbed it with brandy. After finishing with this 
 and regloving it he glanced again at the girl's face 
 The wet lashes stirred, the pale lids fluttered and 
 bhnked wide and two wonderful eyes gazed up at 
 him. The eyes were clear yet with cross-lights at 
 their depths, like the water of a still pool floored 
 with sand and touched with the first level gleams 
 of sunrise. They were sea-eyes - sea-gray, sea- 
 blue, with a hint even of sea-green. Never before 
 had the master of Chance Along seen or dreamed 
 of such eyes. 
 
 The skipper was strangely and deeply stirred by 
 the clear, inquiring regard of those eyes- but 
 despite his dreams and ambitions, he was an emi- 
 nently practical young man. He extended the flask 
 and held it to her lips with a trembling hand. 
 ^^ "Ye must swallow some more o' this," he said 
 Twill take the chill out o' ye." 
 The girl opened her lips obediently and swal- 
 lowed a little of the spirits; but her crystal gaze 
 did not waver from his face. 
 
 I 
 ■i 
 
 i i 
 
 • 3 
 
88 
 
 The Harbor Master 
 
 " Am I saved? " she asked, quietly. 
 " Aye, ye bes saved," answered the skipper, more 
 than ever confused by the astonishing clearness and 
 music of her voice and the fearless simplicity of 
 her question. He scrambled to his feet, holding to 
 the stump of the topmast with his right arm (for 
 the spar whipf '-d and sprang to the impact of every 
 sea upon the hull), and looked at his men on the 
 edge of the cliff. He saw that they were shouting 
 to him, but the wind was in their teeth and sc. not 
 a word of their bellowing reached h..n. By signals 
 and roarings down the wmd he got the order to 
 them to bend a heavy line on to the shore end of 
 one of the light lines attached to his waist. He 
 dragged the hawser in with some difficulty, made 
 it fast to the crosr-trees, and then rigged a kind of 
 running boatswain's chair from a section of the 
 loose rigging. He made the end of one line fast 
 just below the loop of the chair on the hawser. 
 The second line was around his chest and the ends 
 of both were in the hands of the men ashore, v/ith- 
 out a word he cut the girl's lashings, lifted her in 
 his arms and took his seat. He waved his left arm 
 and the lads on the cliff put their backs into the pull. 
 The passage was a terrific experience though the 
 
The Girl From the Cross-trees 89 
 
 distance between the cross-trees and the top of the 
 chff was not great. Neither the girl nor the skip- 
 per spoke a word. He held her tight and she hid 
 her face against his shoulder. Fifteen of the men, 
 under the orders of Bill Brennen, held the shore- 
 end of the hawser. When the mast swung toward 
 the cliflF they took up the slack, thus saving the two 
 from being dashed against the face of the rock, by 
 rushing backward. When the mast whipped to sea- 
 ward they advanced to the edge of the cliff. Five 
 others hauled on each of the lines whenever the 
 hawser was nearly taut, and paid out and pulled in 
 with the slackening and tightening of the larger 
 rope. But even so, the sling in which the skipper 
 and the girl hung was tossed about desperately, now 
 dropped toward the boiling rocks, now twirled like 
 a leaf in the g„le, and next moment jerked aloft 
 and flung almost over the stra-ning hawser. But 
 the skipper had the courasre of ten and the strengtu 
 and endurance of two. He steadied and fended 
 "ith his left hand and held the girl firmly against 
 him with his right. She clung to him and did not 
 whimper or struggle. A group of men, unham- 
 pered by any duty with the ropes, crouched and 
 waited on the very edge of the cliff. At last they 
 
 ■ill ' 
 
 •I 
 
90 
 
 The Harbor Master 
 
 reached out and down, clutched the skipper and 
 his burden, and with a mighty loar dragged them 
 
 to safety. 
 
 Black Dennis Nolan staggered to his feet, still 
 clasping the girl in his arms. He reeled away to 
 where a clump of stunted spruces made a shelter 
 against the gale and lowered her to the ground, 
 still swathed in blankets. 
 
 " Start a fire, some o' ye," he commanded. 
 
 The men looked curiously at the young woman 
 in the drenched blankets, then hastened to do the 
 skipper's bidding. They found dry wood in the 
 heart of the thicket and soon had a fire burning 
 
 strongly. 
 
 "What of the others? Am I the— the only 
 
 one?" asked the girl. 
 
 " Aye, ye bes the only one — so far as we kin 
 see," replied the skipper. " There bain't no more 
 lashed to the spars anyhow." 
 
 She stared at him for a moment, then crouched 
 close to the fire, covered her face with her hs nds, 
 and wept bitterly. The skipper groaned. The tears 
 of Lady Harwood had not moved him in the least ; 
 but this girl's sobs brought a strangling pinch to 
 his own throat. He told two lads to keep the fire 
 
The Girl From the Cross-trees 
 
 91 
 
 buTjiing, and then tu ned and walked away with 
 lagging feet. Joinfr the men who were still tend- 
 ing the line that was ttached to the wreck, • ed 
 down at the scene of tumult and pounding •'.. 'ruc- 
 tion without a word. 
 
 ' The gale bes blowin' herself out, skipper," re- 
 marked Bill Brennen. 
 
 Nolan stared blankly for .. moment, then aroused 
 himself furiously from the strange spell that had 
 enthralled his mind since first he had looked at the 
 face of the girl lashed to the cross-trees. He swore 
 violently, then flung himself lull-length at the very 
 edge of the cliflf, and stuf -d the position of the 
 stranded vessel. He saw t t she was firm on the 
 rocks for almost halt her length. She was badly 
 ripped and stove, but 'icr hack was not broken. She 
 seemed to I . i no danger of slipping oflF into deep 
 water, and as the wind and seas were moderating, 
 she promised to hold together for several hours 
 at least. He got to his feet and gave his opin- 
 ion of the situation to the men as if it were a 
 law. 
 
 " She bes hard an' fast," he said. " Wid the 
 weather liftin'. she'' not fall abroad yet awhile, 
 nor she don't be in any risk o' slidin' astarn an' 
 
 
 -Si 
 
n 
 
 The Harbor Master 
 
 foundcrin'. We has plenty o' time to break out 
 the cargo, men, after the sea quiets a bit. Aye, 
 plenty o' time to sculp her. Now, I wants four 
 o' ye to rig up a hammock o' some sort, wid lines 
 an' a tarpaulin, an' help me tote the lady back-along 
 to the harbor. Step lively, men ! " 
 
 A few of the men ventured to show something 
 of the amazement which they all felt by staring 
 at him. round-eyed and open-mouthed; but he 
 glared them down in short order. So four of them 
 set about the construction of a hammock and the 
 others crowded along the cliflf and gazed down at 
 the unfortunate ship. For awhile they gazed in 
 silence; for wonder, and the fear of the skipper, 
 were heavy upon them. \\'hat madness was this 
 that had so suddenly come upon him? Had pros- 
 perity and power already turned his head? Or 
 could it be that the young woman he had found 
 on the wreck was a fairy of some kind, and had 
 bewitched him with the glance of her sea-eyes? 
 Or perhaps she was a mermaid? Or perhaps she 
 was nothing but a human who had been born on 
 an Easter Sunday — an Easter child. Strange and 
 potent gifts of entrancing, and of looking into the 
 future, are bestowed upon Easter children of the 
 
female sex by the fairies. Every one knows that! 
 Whatever the girl might be, it was an astounding 
 thing for Black Dennis Nolan to turn his back on 
 a stranded and unlooted vessel to escort a stranger 
 — aye, or even a friend — to shelter. They knew 
 that, for all his overbearing and hard-fisted ways 
 toward men, he was kind to women; but this mat- 
 ter seemed to them a thing of madness rather than 
 of kindness ; and never before had they known him 
 to show any sign of infatuation. They glanced 
 over their shoulders, and, seeing the skipper some 
 distance off, supervising the construction of the 
 hammock, they began to whisper and surmise. 
 
 " Did ye mark the glint in the eyes o' her, Pat? " 
 inquired one of another. " Sure, lad, 'twas like 
 what I once see before — an' may the holy saints 
 presarve me from seein' it agin! 'Twas the day, 
 ten year back come July, when I see the mermaid 
 in Pike's Arm, down nort' on the Labrador, when 
 I was hook-an'-linin' for Skipper McDoul o' Har- 
 bor Grace. She popped the beautiful head o' her 
 out o' the sea widin reach o' a paddle o' me skiff 
 an' shot a glimp at me out o' her two eyes that 
 turned me heart to fire an' me soul to ice, an' come 
 pretty nigh t'rowin' me into the bay." 
 
 ^ 
 
94 
 
 The Harbor Master 
 
 " Aye," returned the other in a husky whisper. 
 " Aye, ye bes talkin' now, Tim Leary. Sure, bain't 
 that power o' the glimp o' the eye a mark o' the 
 mermaid ? They bewitches a man's heart, does mer- 
 maids, an' kills the eternal soul of him ! Sure, b'y ! 
 Didn't me own great-gran' father, who sailed for- 
 eign viyages out o' Witless Bay, clap his own two 
 eyes on to one o' they desperate sea-critlcrs one 
 night he was standin' his trick at the wheel, one 
 day nort' o' Barbados? Sure, b'y! He beared a 
 whisper behind him, like a whisper o' music, and 
 wben he turned his head 'round there she was, 
 nat'ral as any girl o' the harbor, a-gleamin' her 
 beautiful, grand eyes at him in the moonshine. An' 
 when he come ashore didn't he feel so desperate 
 lonesome that he died o' too much rum inside the 
 year, down on the land-wash wid his two feet in 
 the sea? " 
 
 " Aye, Pat," returned Tim. " but I bain i sayin' 
 as this one bes a mermaid. She was lashed to the 
 cross-trees like any human." 
 
 " An' that would be a mermaid's trick." retorted 
 the other. " Where be the other poor humans, 
 then?" 
 
 At that moment the skipper approached. 
 
 
The Girl From the Cross-trees 
 
 95 
 
 " Mind the wrack, men," said he. " Make fast 
 some more Hnes to her, if ye kin. I'll be back wid 
 ye afore long." 
 
 The hammock was swung on a pole. Four men 
 and the skipper accompanied the girl from the 
 wreck, two carrying the hammock for the first half 
 of the journey and the relay shouldering it for the 
 second spell. The skipper walked alongside. The 
 girl lay back among the blankets, which had been 
 dried at the fire, silent and with her eyes closed 
 for tne most part. It was evident that her terri- 
 ble experience had sapped both her physical and 
 mental vitality. She had been lashed to the cross- 
 trees of the foremast soon after the ship had struck 
 the rocks, and fully eight hours before Black Dennis 
 Nolan had released her. The second mate, who 
 had carried her up and lashed her there, had been 
 flung to his death by the whipping of the mast a 
 moment after he had made the last loop fast about 
 her blanketed form. She had been drenched and 
 chilled by the flying spume and the spray that burst 
 upward and outward from the foot of the cliflF. 
 The wind had snatched the breath from her lips, 
 deafened her, blinded her, and driven the cold to 
 her very bones. The swaying and leaping of the 
 
 ;■* 4 
 
 'twww B^ij.xn i iiMj aaBi 
 
 ■ISi" 
 
 1K71S. 
 
96 
 
 The Harbor Master 
 
 spar had at last jarred and wrenched her to a state 
 of insensibility. 
 
 She spoke only three times during the journey. 
 
 " I would have died if f had been left there a 
 little longer. You were brave to save me as you 
 did. What is your name? " 
 
 " Aye, 'twas a terrible place for ye," replied the 
 skipper. " I bes Dennis Nolan, skipper o' Chance 
 Along; an' now I bes takin' ye to my granny. 
 Mot' er Nolan, an' a grand, warm house. Ye'll 
 have Father McQueen's own bed, for he bes 
 away till June, an' a fire in the chimley all 
 
 day." 
 
 Her only answer was to gaze ?t him with a 
 look of calm, faint interest for a moment and 
 then close her eyes. Ten minutes later she spoke 
 
 again. 
 
 " The Royal William was bound for New York," 
 she said. " There were ten passengers aboard her. 
 My maid was -vith me — a Frenchwoman." 
 
 This was Greek to the skipper, and he mumbled 
 an unintelligible answer. What could she mean by 
 her maid? Her daughter? No, for she was 
 scarcely more than a girl herself — and in any case, 
 her daughter would not be a Frenchwoman. As 
 
they reached the broken c Jge of the barrens above 
 Chance Along she spoke for the third time. 
 
 " In Londo.1 I sang before the Queen " she said, 
 this time without raising her pallid lids. Her lips 
 scarcely moved. Her voice was low and faint, but 
 clear as the chiming of a silver bell. " Ar.d now 
 I go to my own city — to New York — to sing. 
 They will listen now, for I am famous. You will 
 be well paid for what you have done for me." 
 
 The skipper could make little enough of this talk 
 of singing oefore the Queen; but he understood 
 the mention of making payment for his services, 
 and his. bitter pride flared up. He gripped the edge 
 of the hammock roughly. 
 
 "Would ye be payin' me for this?" he ques- 
 tioned. " Would ye, I say? Nay, not ye nor the 
 Queen herself! I have money enough ! I bes mas- 
 ter o' this harbcr!" 
 
 She opened her wonderful, clear, sea-eyt at 
 that, full upon his flushed face, and he saw ne 
 clear cross-lights in their depths. She regarded 
 him calmly, with a suggestion of mocking interest, 
 until his own glance wavered and turned aside. 
 He felt again the surging of his heart's blood — 
 but now, across and through the surging, a chill 
 
 ',&ift6wT?<-t,'^"' ' •'T'l'aKArr'wjr^BB"^ smamrtet ■ 
 
 >■ 
 
98 
 
 The Harbor Master 
 
 as of fear. The flush of offended pride faded from 
 his cheeks. 
 
 ' Of course I shall pay you for saving my life," 
 she said, coolly and conclusively. 
 
 The skipper was not accustomed to such treat- 
 ment, even from a woman; but without a word by 
 way of retort he steadied the hammock in its de- 
 scent of the twisting path as if his very life depended 
 upon the stranger's comfort. The women, children 
 and very old men of the harbor — all who had not 
 gone to the scene of the wreck save the bedridden 
 — came out of the cabins, asked questions and 
 stared in wonder at the lady in the hammock. The 
 skipper answered a few of their questions and 
 waved them out of the way. They fell back in 
 staring groups. The skipper ran ahead of the litter 
 to his own house and met Mother Nolan on the 
 threshold. 
 
 *' Here bes a poor young woman from a wrack, 
 granny," he explained. " She bes nigh perished 
 wid the cold an' wet. Ye'll give her yer bed, 
 granny, till the fire bes started in Father McQueen's 
 room." 
 
 " Saints save as, Denny ! " exclaimed Moti:jr 
 Nolan. " First it bes diamonds wid ye, an' now 
 
it bes a young woman. Wracks will sure be the 
 ruin o' ye yet, Denny Nolan ! This way, b'ys, an' 
 give me a sight o' the poor lamb. Lay her here 
 an' take yer tarpaulin away wid ye. Holy saints 
 fend us all, but she bes dead — an' a great lady 
 at that!" 
 
 Thp stranger opened her eyes and looked at the 
 old woman. Her wonderful eyes seemed to be- 
 witch Mother Nolan, even as they had bewitched 
 the skipper. The old dame stared, trembled and 
 babbled. Turning to the gaping men, including 
 Denny, she cried to them to get out where they 
 belonged and shut the door after them. They 
 obeyed, treading on each other's heels. Even the 
 skipper departed, though reluctantly. 
 
 " May every hair o' yer head turn into a wax 
 candle to light ye to glory," babbled the old woman, 
 as she unwound the coarse blankets from about the 
 girl's unresisting body. The other smiled faintly. 
 
 " I don't want to be lighted to glory — just 
 now," she said. " I must sing in New York — to 
 my own people — just as I sang before the Queen 
 in London. But now I am so cold — and so 
 tired." 
 
 Mother Nolan gaped at her. 
 
 11; 
 
 ■^^^i 
 
 >' 
 
100 
 
 The Harbor Master 
 
 " Glory be ! " she whispered. *' Eyes like fairies' 
 eyes an' a voice like a mermaid's! An' the little 
 white hands of her, soft as cream! An' the beau- 
 tiful rings! Glory be! " 
 
CHAPTER VII 
 
 THE GOLD OF THE " ROYAL WILLIAM " 
 
 The skipper and his four companions returned 
 to the cliflf above the wreck, the skipper striding 
 ahead, silent, deep in a mental and spiritual unrest 
 that was thought without reflection. The others 
 follov/ed, whispering among themselves but afraid 
 to question their leader. The wind had fallen to a 
 breeze by the time they reached the point of the 
 cliff overlooking the slanted deck of the stranded 
 ship. Also, the seas had lost much of their height 
 and violence, and the tide was ebbing. The group 
 on the cliff's edge eyed the skipper inquiringly, 
 furtively, as he joined them. He strode through 
 them and looked down at the wreck. His face 
 lightened in a flash and his dark eyes gleamed. 
 
 "What did I tell ye!" he cried. "Now she 
 lays steady as a house, all ready to be gutted like 
 a fish. Pass a couple o' lines this way, men. Take 
 in the slack o' the hawser an' make her fast to 
 
 101 
 
 ii- 
 
102 
 
 The Harbor Master 
 
 ^ 
 
 yonder nub o' rock. Nick Leary, follow after me 
 wid that block an* pulley. Bill, rig yer winch a 
 couple o' yards this way an' stake her down. Keep 
 ten men wid ye — an' the rest o' ye can follow 
 me. But not too close, mind ye! Fetch yer axes 
 along, an' every man o' ye a line." 
 
 Three minutes later, the skipper was sliding 
 down the foremast, with Nick Leary close above 
 him, another man already on the cross-trees and 
 yet another in mid-air on the hawser. The skipper 
 reached the slanted deck and slewed down into the 
 starboard sc.ippers, snatched hold of a splintered 
 fragment of the bulwarks in time to save himself 
 from pitching overboard, steadied himself for a 
 moment u. J then crawled aft. Leary, profiting by 
 the skipper's experience in the scuppers, made a 
 line fast to the butt of the foremast, clawed his 
 way up the slant of the deck to port, scrambled aft 
 until he was fairly in line with the stump of the 
 mainmast, and then let himself slide until checked 
 in his course by that battered section of spar. 
 Taking a turn around it with his line, he again 
 clawed to port, and scrambled aft again. His sec- 
 ond slide to starboard brought him to the splintered 
 companionway of the main cabin. Here he re- 
 
The Gold of the " Royal William " 103 
 
 moved the end of the rope from his waist and made 
 it fast, thus rigging a life-line from the butt of 
 the foremast aft to the cabin for the use of those 
 to follow. It had been a swift and considerate piece 
 of work. The men on the cliff cheered. Nick 
 waved his hand to the cliff, shouted a caution to 
 the man at that moment descending the foremast, 
 and then swung himself down into four feet of 
 Tvater and the outer cabin. 
 
 " Where be ye, skipper? " ' e bawled. 
 
 " This way, Nick. Fair aft," replied the skipper. 
 " Keep to port or ye'll have to swim. I bes in 
 the captain's berth; an' here bes his dispatch box, 
 high an' dry in his bunk." 
 
 Nick made his way aft, through the length of 
 the outer cabin as quickly as he could, with the 
 water to his chin as he stooped forward in his 
 efforts toward speed, entered an inner and smaller 
 cabin by a narrow door ;.nd finally swam into the 
 captain's own state-room. He grasped the edge of 
 the berth in which the skipper crouched. 
 
 " Hell ! I bes nigh perished entirely wid the cold, 
 skipper ! " he cried. 
 
 " Then swallow this," said the skipper, leaning 
 down and tilting a bottle of brandy to the other'.r 
 
 |3' j' 
 
 :! • t : 
 
 m 
 
 J' 
 
104 
 
 The Harbor Master 
 
 lips. " I found it right here in the bunk, half- 
 empty; aye, an' two more like it, but wid nary a 
 drop in 'em. There, Nick, that bes enough for ye." 
 
 Leary dragged himself up beside the skipper. 
 As the deadlight had been closed over the port, 
 the state-room was illumined only by a gray half- 
 gloom from the cabin. 
 
 " This bunk bes nigh full o' junk," said Nolan. 
 " The skipper o' this ship must ha' slept in the 
 lower bunk an' kept his stores here. Here bes t'ree 
 boxes wid the ship's gold an' papers, I take it; an' 
 a medicine-chest, by the smell o* it; an' an entire 
 case o' brandy, by Garge! Sure, Nick, it bes no 
 wonder he got oflf his course! Take another suck 
 at the bottle, Nick, an' th'*n get overside wid ye 
 an' pass out these boxes." 
 
 Nick was still deriving warmth from the bottle 
 when a third man entered the state-room, with just 
 his head and neck above water. 
 
 " She bes down by the starn desperate, skipper," 
 he said. " Saints presarve me, I bes ice to the 
 bones ! " 
 
 At a word from the skipper, the last arrival took 
 the bottle from Leary. Others reached the scene 
 of action and the three iron boxes and the case of 
 
1^ 
 
 The Gold of the " Royal William " 105 
 
 brandy were soon safe on deck. From there they 
 were winched up to the top of the cliflF. 
 
 " We'll break into the lazaret when the tide bes 
 out," said the skipper. " She'll drain out, ye can 
 lay to that, wid a hole in her as big as the roof o* 
 a house." 
 
 They salvaged a few cases of tinned provisions 
 from the steward's pantry. Five state-rooms were 
 situated on either side of the main or outer cabins. 
 They looted those to port first, where the water 
 was only a few feet deep, finding little but clothing 
 and bedding and one leather purse containing thirty 
 pounds in gold The skipper put the purse into a 
 submerged pocket, and nt the other stuff to the 
 deck, to be winched aloft. The cabins on the star- 
 board side contained but little of value. A few 
 leather boxes and bags were sent I'p unopened. 
 The water was still shoulder-deep to starboard. 
 The door of the fifth room on the starboard side 
 was fastened. The skipper pulled and jerked at it, 
 then lowered his head beneath the water, and saw 
 that it was ' eked on the inside. But the lock w?,5 
 a light one, and the wood of the door was not 
 heavy. He called foi a capstan-bar; and in spite 
 of the fact that he had to strike blindly under sev- 
 
 -T^i^HlflSiijt iir 
 
106 
 
 The Harbor Master 
 
 eral feet of water, the lock was soon shattered. By 
 this time, a dozen men were clustered around, their 
 curiosity and greed uncooled by the cold water to 
 their shoulders. 
 
 " There bes somethin' wort' salvin' in there, ye 
 kin lay to that ! " said one. 
 
 " The passengers' store-room, I bes a-t'inkin'," 
 said another. 
 
 " Naught but the sail-locker," said a third. 
 " D'ye look to find gold an' dimins in every 
 blessed corner o' every blessed ship ? " 
 
 At that moment the skipper pulkJ the narrow 
 door open to its full extent. The water inside 
 swirled out to fill the eddy made by the opening 
 of the door; and then, slow, terrible, wide-eyed, 
 floating breast-high in the flood, a woman drifted 
 out of the narrow room into the midst of the ex- 
 pectant men. Death had not been able to hide the 
 agony in her staring eyes, or dull the lines of horror 
 in her waxen, contorted face. She floated out to 
 them, swaying and bowing, one hand clutched and 
 fixed in the torn bosom of her dress, a pendant of 
 gold and pearl swinging from each ear. 
 
 A groan of wordless horror went up from the 
 wreckers. For a moment they stared at the thing 
 
The Gold of the " Royal William " 107 
 
 rocking and sidling in their midst, with grotesque 
 motions of life and the face and hands of a terrific 
 death ; and then, as one man, they started to splash, 
 beat and plunge their way to the companion-steps. 
 The water was set swirling by their frantic eflforts, 
 in eddies and cross-currents which caught the dead 
 woman and drew her, pitching and turning heavily, 
 in the wakes of the leaders and elbow to elbow with 
 some of the panic-stricken fellows in the second line 
 of retreat. They knew the thing was not a ghost ; 
 they knew the thing was not alive, and could not 
 harm them with its pitiful, stiff fingers; they knew 
 it for the body of a woman who had been drowned 
 in her cabin — and yet the horror of it chilled them, 
 maddened them, melted their courage and dead- 
 ened their powers of reasoning. Even the skipper 
 felt the blind terror of the encounter in every tin- 
 gling nerve. The water was deep, the deck sloped 
 beneath their feet, and the way to the flooded steps 
 of the companionway seemed a mile long. The 
 fellows who suffered the touch of those dead elbows 
 that seemed to reach out to them beneath the churn- 
 ing water yelled wildly, lost their footing and power 
 to advance at one and the same moment, and soused 
 under, clutching blindly at their comrades. This 
 
108 
 
 The Harbor Master 
 
 brought others down and under who believed that 
 the fingers gripping them were those of the poor 
 corpse. Screams and yells filled the cabin and 
 drifted up to the astounded men on the cliff. Heads 
 vanished ; legs and arms beat the imprisoned water 
 to spurn-; fists and feet struck living flesh; and 
 one poor, frantic fool clutched the unconscious 
 cause of all this madness in his arms. Then the 
 skipper, steadied from his first insanity of fear by 
 the signs of disaster, lowered his head deliberately, 
 plunged forward and downward, and swam under 
 water for the companion. In his passage he 
 wrenched floundering bodies aside and kicked and 
 .struck at floundering legs and arms. Coming to 
 the surface and sinking his feet to the deck at the 
 same moment, he grasped a step of the companion- 
 way and hauled himself out of the water, as if the 
 devil were nipping at his heels. Turning on an 
 upper step, he reached down, clutched two of the 
 struggling fellows by the collars and dragged them 
 up from the battling smother. One of them sprang 
 on up the companion without so much as a glance 
 at his rescuer, reached the deck with a yell, and 
 started forward on the run without pausing to lay 
 a hand on the life-line. His course was brief. The 
 
 
 i^'-^jsMA' sir^^wpw^.^i?^m 
 
The Gold of the " Royal William " 109 
 
 list of the deck carried him to the starboard. His 
 foot caught in a splinter of shattered bulwark and 
 he pitched overboard, head first and with terrific 
 force, to the black rocks and surging seas. That 
 was the last time Dan Cormick was seen alive — 
 and the sight of him springing from the companion 
 and plunging to his death struck horror and amaze- 
 ment to the souls of the men on the cliff. 
 
 Below, the skipper was doing his utmost to still 
 the tumult and drag the men to safety. They were 
 the men of his harbor — a part of his equipment 
 in life — and therefore he worked like a hero to 
 save them from themselves and one another. His 
 young brother was snfe on the cliff; so his fine 
 efforts were not inspired by any grander emotion 
 than that felt by the shopkeeper who fights fire 
 in the protection of his uninsured stock-in-trade. 
 There were men below whom he needed, but none 
 whom he loved even with the ordinary affection of 
 man for humanity. The skipper yanked the men 
 to the steps as fast as he could get hold of them, 
 dragged them up to the level of the deck, and left 
 them sprawled. All were breathless; some were 
 cut and bruised ; Nick Leary's left cheek had been 
 laid open from eye to jaw in some way. The shout- 
 
 'J^ i'*v' -Tife:.^>iiiaiifo^;^,". 
 
110 
 
 The Harbor Master 
 
 ing and yelling were now over, and several husky 
 fellows, ashamed of the recent panic, helped the 
 skipper at his work. When the task of rescue was 
 at last finished, the flooded cabin had given up three 
 corpses besides that of the woman — four corpses 
 and a dozen wounded men. 
 
 The bodies of the wreckers were h-'iled up to 
 the top of the cliff, amid prayers, curses and groans 
 of distress. The fellows on shore demanded to 
 know who had killed them — and why? Knives 
 were drawn. The brother of one of the dead men 
 swore that he was ready and eager to cut tht heart 
 out of the murderer. The lads on the wreck caught 
 something of all this ; but it did not cool their desire 
 to get ashore. Those who had the use of their 
 limbs swarmed up the foremast and crossed over 
 to the clifif. The first to step ashore was in g-rave 
 danger for a half-minute; but he managed to throw 
 some light on the thing that had taken place in 
 the flooded cabin. Others landed, the whole story 
 was told and knives were returned to their sheaths. 
 The skipper, the seriously injured and the dead 
 woman remained on the deck. The skipper was 
 in a black mood. He knew his people well enough 
 to see thai this unfortunate affair would weaken 
 
 K. 
 
The Gold of the " Royal William " HI 
 
 his power among them. They would say that the 
 saints were against his enterprises and ambitions; 
 that his luck was gone ; that he was a bungler and 
 so not fit to give orders to full-grown men. He 
 understood all this as if he could hear their grum- 
 bled words — nay, as well as if he could read the 
 very hearts of them. He turned to Nick Leary. 
 Nick had already bandaged his face with a piece of 
 sail-cloth. 
 
 " Where bes the medicine-chest? Was it sent 
 aloft?" asked the skipper. 
 
 "Nay, skipper, 'twas left below — in the cap- 
 tain's berth." replied Nick; his voice shook from 
 pain and loss of blood. 
 
 "Ye bes cut desperate bad," said the skipper. 
 " ni go fetch the medicine-chest an' fix ye up wid 
 plaster an' dacent bandages. Who says his leg bes 
 broke? Ye, Bill Lynch? I'll fix yer leg. b'y, when 
 I git the chest." 
 
 He looked up at the crowd on the cliff and roared 
 to them to lower away some brandy for the 
 wounded men. 
 
 " An' step lively, damn ye, or I'll be comln' up 
 to ye wid a bat in me hand," he concluded, knowing 
 that it was not the time to display ar.y sign of weak- 
 
112 
 
 The Harbor Master 
 
 ness. Then he went down the companion, entered 
 the water, which had drained out with the ebbing 
 tide until it reached no higher than to his waist, 
 and waded aft to the lost captain's berth. He felt 
 decidedly uneasy, shot glances to right and left at 
 the narrow doors of the state-rooms and experi- 
 enced a sensation of creeping cold at the roots of 
 his hair; but he forced himself onward. He soon 
 regained the deck with the big medicine-chest in 
 his arms. He was received by a growl of admira- 
 tion from the little group of wounded. The men 
 on the cliflf looked down in silence, those who had 
 taken part in the recent panic deeply impressed by 
 the skipper's action. The brandy had already been 
 lowered to the deck, and the bottles were uncorked. 
 The skipper placed the ches^ on the upper side of 
 the hatch, and saw to the fair distribution of the 
 liquor. He passed it around with a generous hand ; 
 but the doses administered to Nick Leary and the 
 man 'vith the broken leg were the most liberal. He 
 attended to Nick's cheek first, drawing the lips of 
 the wound together with strips of adhesive plaster 
 from the medicine-chest, and then padding and 
 bandaging it securely with gauze and linen. 
 
 "That bes fine, skipper. Sure, it feels better 
 
The Gold of the " Royal William " 113 
 
 I! 
 
 u 
 
 now nor it did afore it was cut," mumbled Nick, 
 gazing at the other with dog-homage in his eyes. 
 
 By this time, Bill Lynch, of the broken leg, was 
 oblivious to the world, thanks to the depth and 
 strength of his potations. The skipper cut away 
 a section of the leg of his heavy woollen trousers, 
 prodded and pried at the injured limb with his 
 strong fingers utitil the fracture was found, put a 
 couple of strong splints in place, and bandaged them 
 so that they were not likely to drop off, to say the 
 least. He then made a sling of a blanket and sent 
 his drunken patient swaying and twirling aloft in 
 it to the top of the cliff. The other injured persons 
 went ashore in the same way, one by one, like bales 
 of sail-cloth. At last only the skipper and the dead 
 woman were left on the wreck. The skipper stood 
 with a scowl on his dark face and considered her. 
 He drew the blanket sling toward him, and stood 
 toward the poor clay. 
 
 " I'll send her up to ye for dacent burial," he 
 shouted. 
 
 This suggestion \;as answered by a yell of pro- 
 test from the men on the cliff. 
 
 " If ye be afeard o' her, ye white-livered swile, 
 what d'ye want me to do wid her? " 
 
114 
 
 The Harbor Master 
 
 " T'row her overboard ! Heave her into the 
 sea!" "Aye, t'row her overboard. She bes the 
 devil hisself ! T'ree good lads bes kilt dead by her 
 already. T'row her overboard ! " 
 
 " There bain't a man amongst ye wid the heart 
 o' a white-coat," returned the skipper. " Afeared 
 o' a poor drownded wench, be ye? " 
 
 This taunt was received in sullen silence. The 
 skipper stood firm on the listed deck, his feet set 
 well apart and his shoulders squared, and leered 
 up at them. Then, stooping forward quickly, he 
 plucked the pendants from tho?e bloodless ears, and 
 set the body rolling into the starboard scuppers 
 and overboard to the frothing surf and slobbering 
 rocks. From the cliff a cry as of mingled relief 
 and dismay rang down to him. He move \ for- 
 ward and swarmed the foremast to the cross-trees. 
 There he paused for a few moments to glance across. 
 He saw that Bill Brennen, Nick Leary, his brother 
 Cormick and several of the men whom he had 
 rescued from the flood.-! Cc')in h.-xl clustered around 
 the shore-end of the hawser. He saw that they 
 feared treachery. He made his way across, cool, 
 fearless, with a dangerous smile on his lips. 
 
CHAPTER VIII 
 
 THE SK PPER STRUGGLES AGAINST SUPERSTITION 
 
 " She lays snug enough. We'll break out the 
 freight, to-morrow." said the skipper. 
 
 " Aye. skipper, aye." returned Rill Brennen, with 
 an unsuccessful attemnt to put some heartiness into 
 his tones ; but the others did not say a word. They 
 made litters for the dead and wounded, gathered 
 up the spoils of the cabins, and set off sullenly for 
 Chance Along. The skipper stood to one side and 
 watched them from under lowering brows. At the 
 first stroke of misfortune they were sulking and 
 snarling at him like a pack of wolf-dogs. They 
 evidently expected a boat-load of gold from every 
 wreck, and no casualties. He despised and hated 
 them. He hurried after them and called a halt. 
 He ordered them to break open the ship's boxes. 
 They obeyed him in sullen wonder. 
 
 " If ye find any gold," he said, " count it an' 
 divide it amongst ye. An' the same wid the rest 
 o' the gear. An' here bes somethin' more for ye ! " 
 
 115 
 
116 
 
 The Harbor Master 
 
 He tossed the purse and the earrings to them. 
 " Take 'em. Keep 'em. I take no shares wid a 
 crew like ye — not this time, anyhow, ye cowardly, 
 unthankful, treacherous swabs! Aye, count the 
 gold, damn ye! an' stow it away in yer pockets. 
 I bes makin' rich men o' ye — an' at a turn o' bad 
 luck ye all be ready to knife me. D'ye think I kilt 
 them t'ree dead fools? Nay, they kilt themselves 
 wid fear of a poor drownded woman ! T'ree more 
 would ha' bin stunned and drownded but for me. 
 Holy saints above! I bes minded to leave ye to 
 fish an' starve — all o' ye save them as has stood 
 to me like i ; an' them o' me own blood — an' 
 go to another harbor. Ye white-livered pack o' 
 wolf-breed huskies! Ye cowardly, snarlin', treach- 
 erous divils. Take yer money. I gives it to ye. 
 Go home an' feed on the good grub I gives to ye 
 an' drink the liquor ye'd never have the wits nor 
 the courage to salve but for me! Go home wid 
 ye. out o' my sight, or maybe I'll forgit the flabby- 
 hearted swabs ye be an' give ye a taste o' me bat ! " 
 The skipper's fury increased with ihe utterance 
 of every bellowed word. His dark face burned 
 crimson, and his black eyes glowed like coals in 
 the open draught of a stove. His teeth flashed 
 
Skipper Struggles Against Superstition 117 
 
 between his snarling lips like a timber- wolf's fangs. 
 He shook his fist at them, picked up a birch billet, 
 which was a part of the wrecking-gear, and swung 
 it threateningly. About eight of the men and boys, 
 including young Cormick Nolan, Nick Leary and 
 Bill Brennen, stood away from the others, out of 
 line of the skipper's frantic gestures and bruising 
 words. Some of them were loyal, some simply 
 more afraid of Black Dennis Nolan than of any- 
 thing else in the world. But fear, after all, is an 
 important element in a certain quality of devo- 
 tion. 
 
 The main party were somewhat shaken. A few 
 of them growled back at the skipper; but not quite 
 loud enough to cliim his attention to them in par- 
 ticular. Some eyed him apprehensively, while others 
 broke open the ship's and passengers' boxes. They 
 found minted money only in one of the captain's 
 dispatch-boxes — two small but weighty bags of 
 gold containing about two hundred sovereigns in 
 all. This was the money which the dead captain 
 had been armed with by his owners against harbor- 
 dues, etc. The funds which the passengers must 
 have possessed had doubtless been flung overboard 
 and under along with the unfortunate beings who 
 
118 
 
 The Harbor Master 
 
 had clung to them. The sullen, greedy fellows 
 began to count and divide the gold. They were 
 slow, suspicious, grasping. The skipper, having 
 fallen to a glowing silence at last, watched them for 
 a minute or two with a bitter sneer on his face. 
 Then he turned and set out briskly for Chance 
 Along. The loyal and fearful party followed him, 
 most of them with evident reluctance. A few 
 turned their faces continually to gaze at the dis- 
 tributing of the gold and gear. The skipper noted 
 this with a sidelong, covert glance. 
 
 " Don't ye be worrvin', men. Ye'll have yer fill 
 afore long, so help me Saint Peter! " he exclaimed. 
 " No man who stands by me, an' knows me for 
 master, goes empty ! " 
 
 He did not speak another word on the way or 
 so much as look at his followers. He strode along 
 swiftly, thinking hard. He could not blink the fact 
 that the needless deaths of the three men in the 
 cabin of the Royal William had weakened his posi- 
 tion seriously. He could not blink the ugly fact 
 that the day's activities had bred a mutiny — and 
 that the mutiny had not yet been faced and broken. 
 It was still breeding. The poison was still working. 
 In a fit of blind anger and unreasoning disgust he 
 
Skipper Struggles Against Superstition 119 
 
 had fed the spirit of rebellion with gold. He had 
 shattered with his foot what he had built with his 
 hands. The work of mastery was all to do over 
 again. He had taught them that his rights were 
 four shares to one — and now he had given them 
 all, thereby destroying a precedent in the establish- 
 ing of which he had risked his life and robbing 
 himself and his loyal followers at the same time. 
 The situation was desperate; but he could not find 
 it in his heart to regret the day's work; for there 
 was the girl with the sea-eyes, lying safe in his 
 own house this very minute! A thrill, sweet yet 
 bitter, v/ent through his blood at the thought. No 
 other woman had ever caused him a choking pang 
 like this. The remembrance of those clear eyes 
 shook him to the very soul and quenched his burn- 
 ing anger with a wave of strangely mingled adora- 
 tion and desire. He was little more than a fine 
 animal, after all. The man in him lay passive and 
 undeveloped under the tides of passion, craving, 
 brute-pride and crude ambitions. But the manhood 
 was there, as his flawless courage and unconsidered 
 kindness to women and children indicated. But 
 he was self-centred, violent, brutally masterful. 
 Women and children had always seemed to him 
 
120 
 
 The Harbor Master 
 
 (until now) helpless, harmless things, that had a 
 right to the protection of men even as they had a 
 right to remain ashore from the danger of wind 
 and sea. The stag caribou and the dog-wolf have 
 the same attitude toward the females of their races. 
 It is a characteristic which is natural to animals and 
 boasted of by civilized men. Dogs and gentlemen 
 do not bite and beat their females; and if Black 
 Dennis Nolan resembled a stag, a he-wolf, and a 
 dog in many points, in this particular he also re- 
 sembled a gentleman. Like some hammering old 
 feudal baron of the Norman time and the finer type, 
 his battles were all with men. Those who did not 
 ride behind him he rode against. He feared the 
 saints and a priest, even as did the barons of old ; 
 but all others must acknowledge his lordship or 
 know themselves for his enemies. To Black Dennis 
 Nolan the law of the land was a vague thing not 
 greatly respected. To Walter, Lord of Waltham, 
 William the Red was a vague personage, not greatly 
 respected. Walter, Lord of Waltham, son of Wal- 
 ter and grandson of Fitz Oof of Normandy; Skip- 
 per of Chance Along, son of Skipper Pat and 
 grandson of Skipper Tim — the two barons dif- 
 fered only in period and location. In short, Black 
 
 mtr^i ikimwe 
 
 mBmm 
 
 ■.\ ' Lm.'..a\ 
 
 ma 
 
 wsFrrsffTr^assTT^rT^Br 
 
SL-pper Struggles Against Superstition 121 
 
 Df-nnis Nolan possessed many of the qualities of 
 strong animals, of a feudal baron, and one at least 
 of a modern gentleman. 
 
 The skipper was overtaken and joined by his 
 young brother at the edge of the barrens above 
 Chance Along. They scrambled swiftly down the 
 path to the clustered cabins. At their own door 
 Cormick plucked the skipper's sleeve. 
 
 " They was talkin' o' witches," he whispered. 
 " Dick Lynch an' some more o' the lads. They 
 says as how the comather was put on to ye this very 
 mornin', Denny." 
 
 The skipper paused with his hand on the latch 
 and eyed the other sharply. 
 
 " Witches, ye say? An' Dick Lynch was talkin', 
 was he? Who did they figger as put the spell 
 on to me?" 
 
 " The lass ye saved from the fore-top. Sure, 
 that's what they all bes sayin', Denny. Mermaid, 
 they calls her — an' some a fairy. A witch, any- 
 how. They says as how yer luck bes turned now 
 — aye, the luck o' the entire harbor. 'Twas her- 
 self—the spell o' her — kilt the t'ree lads in the 
 cabin, they be sayin'. Their talk was desperate 
 black, Denny." 
 
 ■^HiH^B 
 
 l-ML-W iJ- 
 
 9^M\..4mWM ^ 
 
 ^^^^5^9! 
 
122 
 
 The Harbor Master 
 
 *' 'Twas the poor dead, drownded woman, an' 
 their own cowardly souls, kilt 'em ! " 
 
 " Aye, Denny, so it was, nary a doubt ; but they 
 shot ye some desperate black looks, Denny." 
 
 " Well, Cormy, don't ye be worryin'. Fifty 
 t'ousand squid like Dick Lynch couldn't frighten 
 me. The comather, ye say? Saints o' God! but 
 I'll be puttin' it on themselves wid a club! Be- 
 witched? What the divil do they know o' witches? 
 Fishes bes all they understands! Black looks 
 they give me. did they? I'll be batin' 'em so 
 black they'll all look like rotted herrings, by the 
 Holy Peter hisself! Aye, Cormy, don't ye worry, 
 now." 
 
 At that he opened the door quietly and stepped 
 inside with a strange air of reverence and eager- 
 ness. The boy followed softly and closed the door 
 behind him. The fire roared and crackled in the 
 round stove, but the room was empty of human life. 
 Wet garments of fine linen hung on a line behind 
 the stove. The inner door opened and old Mother 
 Nolan hobbled into the kitchen with a wrinkled 
 finger to her lips. 
 
 "Whist wid ye!" she cautioned. "She be 
 sleepin' like a babe, the poor darlint, in Father 
 
Skipper Struggles Against Superstition 128 
 
 McQueen's own bed, wid everything snug an' warm 
 as ye'd find in any marchant's grand house in St. 
 John's." 
 
 She took her accustomed seat beside the stove 
 and lit her pipe. 
 
 " Saints ahve! but can't ye set down!" she ex- 
 claimed. " I wants to talk wid ye, b'ys. Tell me 
 this — where bes t'e rest o' the poor folk from the 
 wrack ? " 
 
 " She bes the only livin' soul we found. Granny," 
 replied the skipper. " She was lashed in the fore- 
 mast — an' t'other spars is all over the side. We 
 found a poor dead boa/ ;n one o' the cabins — 
 drownded to death — an' not so much as another 
 corpse. Aye, Granny, 'twas a desperate cruel wrack 
 altogether." 
 
 The old woman shot a keen glance at him; but 
 he returned it v.'ithout a blink. 
 
 " Didn't ye find no more gold an' diamonds, 
 then ? " she asked. 
 
 " We found some gold. I give it all to the 
 men." 
 
 " An' what was the cargo ? " 
 
 " Sure, Granny, we didn't break into her cargo 
 yet. There was a rumpus — aye, ye may well call 
 
 mmmimmmm 
 
124 
 
 The Harbor Master 
 
 it a rumpus ! Did ye say a. ' c bes sleepin', 
 Granny? " 
 
 The old woman nodded her head, her black eyes 
 fixed on the red draught of the stove with a far- 
 away, fateful, veiled glint in them which her grand- 
 sons knew well. She had ceased to puff at her 
 pipe f'jr the moment, and in the failing light from 
 the windc ,v they could see a thin reek of smoke 
 trailing straight up from the bowl. 
 
 " Aye, sleepin'," she mumbled, at last. " Saints 
 presarve us, Denny! There bes fairy blood in her 
 — aye, fairy blood. Sure, can't ye see it in her 
 eyes? I's afeard there hain't no luck in it, Denny. 
 Wcrse nor wracked diamonds, worse nor wracked 
 gold they be — these humans wid fairy blood in 
 *em! And don't I know? Sure, wasn't me own 
 grandmother own cousin to the darter o' a fairy- 
 woman? Sure she was, back in old Tyoon. An' 
 there was no luck in the house wid her; an' she 
 was a beauty, too, like the darlint body yon- 
 der." 
 
 The skipper smiled and lit his pipe. The winter 
 twilight had deepened to gloom. The front of the 
 stove glowed I'ke a long, half-closed red eye. nd 
 young Cormick peered fearfully at the black cor- 
 
Skipper Struggles Against Supersti tion 125 
 
 ners of the room. The skipper left his chair, 
 fetched a candle from the dresser and lit it at the 
 door of the stove. 
 
 " We bes a long way off from old Tyoon, 
 Granny," he said; "an' maybe there bain't no 
 fairies now, even in Tyoon. I never seen no fairy 
 in Chance Along, anyhow; nor witch, mermaid, 
 pixie, bogey, ghost, sprite — no, nor even a corpus- 
 light. Herself in yonder bes no fairy-child, 
 Granny, but a fine young lady, more beautiful nor 
 an angel in heaven — maybe a marchant's darter 
 an' maybe a king's darter, but nary the child o* 
 any vanishin' sprite. Sure, didn't I hold her in 
 me two arms all the way from the foretop o' the 
 wrack to the cliff? — an' didn't she weigh agin' me 
 arms till they was nigh broke wid it ? " 
 
 " Denny, ye poor fool," returned Mother Nolan, 
 " ye bes simple as a squid t'rowed up on the land- 
 wash. What do ye know o' fairies an' the like? 
 Wasn't I born on a Easter Sunday, wid the power 
 to see the good people, an' the little people, an' all 
 the tricksy tribes? The body o' a fairy-child bes 
 human, lad. 'Tis but the heart o' her bes unhuman 
 — an' beauty o' her — an' there bain't no soul 
 in her. Did ye hear the voice o' her, Denny ? Holy 
 
 rtSFu 
 
 TTTftSf 
 
 ^^v^^^^^^ 
 
126 
 
 The Harbor Master 
 
 saints! But was there ever a human woman wid 
 a voice the Hke o' that? " 
 
 " Aye, Granny, but did she eat? Did she drink? 
 Did she shed tears? " asked the skipper. 
 
 The old woman nodded her head. 
 
 " Fairies don't shed tears," said Dennis, grin- 
 ning. " Sure, ye've told me that yerself many a 
 time." 
 
 " But half-fairies, like herself, sheds 'em as well 
 as any human, ye mad fool," returned Mother 
 Nolan. 
 
 At that moment the outer door opened, and Nick 
 Leary entered the kitchen, closing the door behind 
 him, and shooting the bolt into its place. His face 
 was so generously bandaged that only his eyes and 
 nose were visible. He glanced fearfully around the 
 room. 
 
 "Where bes the mermaid? Has she flew 
 away?" he whispered. 
 
 The skipper sprang to his feet with an oath. 
 
 " Mermaid? " he cried. " Ye dodderin' fool ye! 
 She bes no more a mermaid nor any fat wench 
 in Chance Along! Has she flew, ye say! How 
 to hell kin a mermaid fly? Wid her tail? Ye bes 
 a true man, Nick, or I'd bat ve over the nob for 
 
 ■■P 
 
Skipper Struggles Against Superstition 127 
 
 yer trouble. She bes a poor young woman saved 
 from a wrack, as well ye know. What d'ye want 
 wid me ? " 
 
 Leary trembled, big as he was, and pulled off 
 his fur cap with both hands. 
 
 " Aye, skipper, aye ! but where bes she now ? " 
 he whispered. 
 
 " She bes sleepin' like any poor babe in his rev- 
 erence's own bed," replied the skipper. 
 
 " Saints presarve us ! " exclaimed the other. " In 
 the blessed father's bed! I bain't sayin' naught, 
 skipper, sir, but — but sure 'twill be desperate bad 
 luck for his reverence ! " 
 
 Black Dennis Nolan lost his temper then. He 
 gripped Nick by the shoulder, swore at him, shook 
 him about, and threatened to knock his head off. 
 Had Nick been one of the mutineers, the chances 
 are ten to one that he would have been floored and 
 beaten half to death. But even in the full fury 
 of his rage the skipper did not lose sight of the 
 fact that this fellow was a loyal slave. He did 
 not love Nick, but he loved his dog-like devotion. 
 So he kept his right hand down at his side, and 
 it cost him a mighty effort of restraint, and con- 
 tented himself with cursing and shaking. The boy 
 
128 
 
 The Harbor Ma?ter 
 
 stared at the two wide-eyed, and the old woman 
 smoked and nodded without so much as a glance at 
 them. At last the skipper unhooked his fingers 
 from Nick's shoulder, laughed harshly and re- 
 turned to his seat. 
 
 ''Luck?" he said, derisively. "The luck o' 
 Father McQreen bes the protection o' the holy 
 saints above. An' my luck bes the strength o' 
 my heart an' my wits, Nick Leary. I saves a 
 woman from a wrack an' brings her into my own 
 house — an' ye names her for a mermaid an' a 
 she-divil! Maybe ye holds wid Dick Lynch 'twas 
 herself kilt the free lads in the cabin — an' her 
 in this house all the time, innocent as a babe." 
 
 Leary made the sign of the cross quickly and 
 furtively. 
 
 " Nay, skipper ; but the divil was in that wrack," 
 he said. " The lads got to fightin' over the gold, 
 skippe*-, an' Dick Lynch slipped his knife into Pat 
 Brennen. Sure, the divil come ashore from that 
 wrack. Never afore did them two pull their knives 
 on each other; an' now Pat Brennen lays bleedin' 
 his life out. The divil bes got into the lads o' 
 Chance Along, nary a doubt, an' the black luck 
 has come to the harbor." 
 
Skipper Struggles Against Superstition 129 
 
 " The divil an' the black luck bes in their own 
 stinkin' hearts ! " exclaimed Nolan, violently. 
 
 " Aye, skipper ; but they says it bes her ye 
 brought ashore put the curse on to us — an' now 
 they bes comin* this way, skipper, to tell ye to run 
 her out o' yer house." 
 
 "What d'ye say?" cried the skipper, springing 
 from his chair. " Run her out, ye say? " 
 
 He trembled with fury, burned the air with oaths, 
 and called down all the curses known to tradition 
 upon the heads of the men of Chance Along. He 
 snatched up a stout billet of birch, green and heavy, 
 wrenched open the door, and sprang into the outer 
 gloom. 
 
 Nick Leary's story was true. The mutineers had 
 consumed the brandy, come to hot words over 
 the sharing of the gold, dropped their dead and 
 wounded, and commenced to curse, kick and hit at 
 one another with clubs. Then Dick Lynch had 
 put his knife into a young man named Pat Bren- 
 nen, a nephew of the loyal Bill. Panic had brought 
 the fight to a drunken, slobbering finish. 
 
 " There bes four strong lads kilt in one day!^' 
 some one had cried. " The black curse bes on us ! 
 The divil bes in it ! " 
 
 IWfST! 
 
 ISr urn ^.U.UAL-JUlUUi VJJ.LJ S5 
 
 T^^^^Tsa^^ 
 
 tti.*- ' .v;iii I ^ 
 
130 
 
 The Harbor Master 
 
 Full of liquor, fear and general madness, they 
 had come to the opinion that the strange young 
 female whom the skipper had saved from the fore- 
 top and carried to his house was such an imp of 
 darkness as had never before blighted the life and 
 luck of Chance Along. She had bewitched the 
 skipper. Her evil eyes had cast a curse on the 
 wreck and that curse had been the death of their 
 three comrades. She had put a curse on the gold, 
 so that they had all gone mad the moment they 
 felt the touch of it in their hands. The skipper, 
 under her spell, had betrayed them — had given 
 them gold so that they should fight over it and 
 destroy one another. It was all very simple — 
 too simple to require reasoning! In truth, the 
 curse was upon them — the curse of dead men's 
 liquor, dead men's gold — the curse of greed, 
 blood-lust and fear! So they had picked up their 
 dead, their wounded and their loot and continued 
 their journey at top speed, intent on casting out 
 the witch, and bringing the skipper to a knowledge 
 of his desperate state even if the operation should 
 cost him his life. What cared they for his life 
 now that he had lost his luck? 
 
 They reached Chance Along, scattered for a few 
 
 wmrmm 
 
 juwmjiUJik ' nfjh'iLi 
 
Skipper Struggles Against Superstition ISl 
 
 minutes to dispose of the dead and wounded, gath- 
 ered again and crowded toward the skipper's house. 
 They were quiet now, for the superstitious fear had 
 not entirely driven from their nearts the human fear 
 of the skipper's big hands and terrible eyes. They 
 stumbled and reeled against one another, their 
 heads and feet muddled by brandy and excitement. 
 Some were armed with sticks, a few had drawn 
 their knives, others had forgotten to arm them- 
 selves with anything. They trod upon each other's 
 feet in the dark, narrow, uneven ways between the 
 cabins. Bill Brennen joined them in the dark. He 
 carried a broken oar of seasoned ash in his hands. 
 He had sent Nick Leary to warn the skipper of the 
 approach of the mutineers; and his faith in the 
 skipper's prowess was such that he felt but little 
 anxiety. He was sober and he knew that Black 
 Dennis Nolan was sober. He kept to the rear of 
 the mob, just far enough behind it to allow for a 
 full swing of his broken oar, and waited for his 
 master to make the first move against this disor- 
 derly demonstration of superstition, bottle-valor and 
 ingratitude. He removed his mittens, stowed them 
 in his belt and spat upon the palms of his hands 
 while he waited. Being sober, he reasoned. Bad 
 
132 
 
 The Harbor Master 
 
 luck had struck the harbor this day, beyond a doubt, 
 and brought death and mutiny. But death had not 
 come to the skipper. Not so much as a scratch had 
 come to the skipper. If a witch was in the har- 
 bor he trusted to Black Dennis Xolan to deal with 
 her without bringing harm upon himself or his 
 friends. If the devil himself visited Chance Along 
 he would look to the skipper to outwit, outcurse 
 and out-devil him. This is hnw he felt about the 
 man he had attached himself to. He gripped his 
 broken i)ar with his moistened palm and fingers 
 and waited hopefully. He had not long to wait. 
 
 Suddenly the door of Vr" skipper's house flew 
 open and out of the glow of candle-light leaped a 
 figure that might easily (under the circumstances 
 and condition of the mob) have been the devil 
 himself — himself, the father .^f all the little devils 
 in hell. The wrathful bellow of him was like the 
 roar of a wounded walrus. He touched ground 
 in the c ntre of the front rank of the mob, and 
 as his feet touched the ground his billet of green 
 birch cracked down upon a skull. And still he 
 continued to roar; and still the club cracked and 
 cracked; and then Bill Brennen got heartily to 
 work on the rear rank with his broken oar. 
 
Skipper Struggles Against Superstition 133 
 
 The mob of mutineers had arrived intoxicated, 
 and with no very clear idea of what they intended 
 to do to the witch and the skipper. They had in- 
 tended to make the first move, however; of that 
 they were certain. They had intended to open the 
 door themselves — and now some divil had opened 
 it before Hey were ready! They were so unsteady 
 on their tV that no man of them stood up for a 
 second blow. A few got to work on their own 
 account; but it was so dark that they did little 
 damage even to their friends. After five or six 
 had fallen the next in order for treatment faced 
 about to retire. In their indignation and bewil- 
 derment they discovered that another club was at 
 work in their rear. This unnerved them so that 
 they — the survivors of the demonstration — raised 
 their voices to heaven in expostulation and stam- 
 peded. They went over Bill Brennen like a wave 
 over a bar, knocking the breath out of him, and 
 sending the oar flying from his grasp; but the 
 skipper kept right after them, still roaring, still 
 plying the billet of green birch. They scattered, 
 each dashing for his own cabin, bursting open the 
 door, sprawling inside, and shutting the door with 
 his feet. 
 
134 
 
 The Harbor Master 
 
 After the last door had been slammed in his 
 face, the skipper went home. Fe found Bill Bren- 
 nen seated by the stove, trying a pipeful of Mother 
 Nolan's tobacco. He had regained his broken oar 
 and held it tenderly across his knees. 
 
 " We sure put the witchery into them squid, 
 skipper, sir," he said. " We sure larned 'em the 
 black magic, by Peter ! " 
 
 II 
 
 ii 
 
 •ssr. 
 
CHAPTER IX 
 
 SOME EARLY VISITS 
 
 The skipper kept his two unswerving henchmen 
 to supper and brewed a mighty bowl in their honor. 
 He even condescended to thank Nick for his warn- 
 ing, roundabout and prolonged though it had been, 
 and to throw a word of praise to Bill Brennen. 
 He felt that the unqualified success of his unex- 
 pected attack upon the mob had rewon for him 
 much of his mastery of the harbor. The others 
 agreed with him. Bill Brennen, with a mug full 
 of punch in his hand, and his eyes on the broken 
 oar which had stood in a corner, humbly advised 
 him to bestir himself at an early hour in the morn- 
 ing, and put the finishing touches on the lesson. 
 He advised a house-to-house visitation before the 
 heroes had recovered from the brandy and the birch 
 billet — not to mention the oar. 
 
 " Bat 'em agin whilst their heads hes still sore." 
 said Bill — which is only another and more orig- 
 
 186 
 
 k, ,JM,W 
 
136 
 
 The Harbor Master 
 
 inal way of saying, " Strike while the iron is 
 
 hot." 
 
 " When ye give 'em all the money, skipper, they 
 sure t'ought ye was bewitched," said Nick Leary. 
 " They t'ought ye was under a spell — an' next 
 they was t'inkin' as how the gold sure had a curse 
 on to it or ye wouldn't give it to 'em." 
 
 The skipper nodded. " I was too easy wid 'em ! " 
 he said. " Sure, b'ys, I'll be mendin' it." 
 
 Bill and Nick departed at last; Cormick ascend- 
 ing the ladder to his bed in the loft; Mother Nolan 
 brewed a dose of herbs of great virtue — she was 
 wise in such things — and still the skipper sat by 
 the stove and smoked his pipe. Never before had 
 his life known another such day as this. Now he 
 could have sworn that a whole month had r- .;d 
 since he had been awakened by news of tl :• < 
 under the cliff, and again it seemed as s\\ ' ad 
 dazzling as the flash of the powder in the pan of 
 his old sealing-gun when the spark flies from the 
 flint. It had certainly been an astonishing day! 
 He had saved a life. He had seen those wonderful, 
 pale lids blink open and the soul sweep back into 
 those wonderful eyes. He had been elbow to elbow 
 with violent death. He had struggled submerged 
 
Some Early Visits 
 
 137 
 
 in water tinged with blood. He had known exul- 
 tation, anger and something which a less coura- 
 geous man would have accepted for defeat. He 
 had suffered a mutiny — and later, in a few violent, 
 reckless minutes of action he had broken it — or 
 cowed it at least. Now he felt himself master of 
 the harbor again, but not the master of his own 
 destiny. He diu not sum up his case in these terms ; 
 but this is what it came to. Destiny was a con- 
 viction with him, and not a word at all — a name- 
 less conviction. He did not consider the future 
 anew; but he felt, without analyzing it, a breath- 
 less, new curiosity of what the morrow might hold 
 for him. This sensation was in connection with the 
 girl. Apart from her, his old plans and ambitions 
 stood. He felt no uncertainty and no curiosity con- 
 cerning the morrow's dealings with the men. He 
 considered it a commonplace subject. He would 
 act upon Bill Brennen's advice and visit the muti- 
 neers at an early hour; and as to the wreck? — 
 well, if conditions proved favorable he would break 
 out the cargo and see what could be made of it. 
 
 Mother Nolan entered with an empty cup in her 
 hand. 
 
 *' She took her draught like a babe, an* bes 
 
138 
 
 The Harbor Master 
 
 sleepin' agin peaceful as an angel," she whispered. 
 ',' Mind ye makes no noise, Denny. No more o' 
 yer fightin' an' cursin' this night ! " 
 
 Black Dennis Nolan put in a night of disturbed 
 dreaming and crawled from his bed before the first 
 streak of dawn. He pulled on his heavy garments 
 and seal-hide " skinnywoppers," built up the fire 
 in the stove, brewed and gulped a mug of tea, and 
 then unbolted the door noiselessly and went out. 
 The dawn was lifting by now, clear, glass-gray and 
 narrow at the rim of the sea to the eastward and 
 southward. The air was still. The lapping of the 
 tide along the icy land-wash and the dull whispering 
 of it among the seaward rocks were the only sounds. 
 The skipper stood motionless beside his own door 
 for a few minutes. Small windows blinked alight 
 here a-d there; faint, muffled sounds of awakening 
 life came to him from the cabins; pale streamers 
 of smoke arose into the breathless air from the little 
 chimneys. 
 
 " Now I'll pay me calls on 'em, like good Father 
 McQueen himself," murmured the skipper. 
 
 He moved across the frosty rock to the nearest 
 door. It was opened to him bv a wide-eyed woman 
 with a ragged shawl thrown over her head. 
 
 t* ■:-:-?^ _ 
 
 ' i. Tm^'-imiLa-M"^ ^ 
 
 ■'S4?;*t?_^i^v«:;: ^<i3»M«5 ^.i^en- '^j^riM-'^i^K?^ 
 
Some Early Visits 
 
 139 
 
 " Mornin' to ye, Kate. How bes yer man Tim 
 this mornin' ? " inquired the skipper. 
 
 He stepped inside without waiting for an answer 
 or an invitation. He found Tim in the bed beside 
 the stove, snoring heavily. He grabbed his shoul- 
 der and shook it roughly until the fellow closed 
 his mouth and opened his eyes. 
 
 " Tim Leary, ye squid, shut off yer fog-horn an' 
 hark to me ! " he exclaimed. " By sun-up ye goes 
 back to the woods and commences cuttin' out poles 
 for Father McQueen's church. Ye'll take yer 
 brother Corny an' Peter Walen along wid ye an' 
 ye'll chop poles all day. Mark that, Tim. I let 
 ye take a fling yesterday, jist to see what kind o' 
 dogs ye be; but if ever I catches ye takin' another 
 widout the word from me I'll be killin' ye ! " 
 
 The man groaned. 
 
 " Holy saints, skipper, ye'd not be sendin' me 
 to choppin' poles wid a head on me like a lobster- 
 pot?" he whispered. "Sure, skipper, me poor 
 head feels that desperate bad, what wid the liquor 
 an' the clout ye give me, I couldn't heave it up 
 from the pillow if Saint Peter himself give the 
 word." 
 
 " I bain't troublin' about Saint Peter," returned 
 
 II 
 
 a»^: ^^■'^"S«%i'SW¥TJ 'i^S^'JWW- 
 
140 
 
 The Harbor Master 
 
 the skipper. " If ever he wants ye to chop poles 
 he'll see as how ye does it, I bes finkin' ! It bes 
 me a-tellin' ye now; an' if ye can't carry yer head 
 to the woods wid ye to-day, ye treacherous dog, 
 I'll knock it of! for ye to-night so ye'll be able to 
 carry it 'round in yer two hands. Mark that! " 
 
 So the skipper paid his round of morning calls. 
 At some cabins he paused only long enough to 
 shout a word through the door, at others he re- 
 mained for several minutes, re-inspiring treacher- 
 ous but simple hearts with the fear of Dennis 
 Nolan, master of Chance Along. At one bed he 
 stayed for fifteen minutes, examining and reband- 
 aging the wound given b" the knife of Dick 
 Lynch. As for that drunken, sullen, treacherous 
 savage, Dick Lynch himself, he dragged him from 
 his blankets, knocked him about the floor, and then 
 flung him back on to his bed. Then, turning to the 
 dazed man's horrified wife, he said, " See that he 
 don't turn on me agin, Biddy, or by the crowns 
 o' the Holy Saints I'll be the everlastin' death o' 
 
 him!" 
 
 At some of the cabins his orders were for the 
 woods, and at some they were for work on the 
 stranded ship. He did not disturb Bill Brennen 
 
Some Early Visits 
 
 141 
 
 or Nick Leary. He knew that they would be 
 around at his house for orders by sun-up. The 
 last cabin he visited was that of Pat Kavanagh. 
 Kavanagh was a man of parts, and had been a 
 close friend of the old skipper. He was a man of 
 the world, having sailed deep-sea voyages in his 
 youth. He was a grand fiddler, a grand singer, 
 and had made more " Come-all-ye's " than you 
 could count on your fingers and toes. He had a 
 wooden leg; and his daughter was the finest girl 
 in Chance Along. His best known Come-all-ye, 
 which is sung to this day from Caplin Arm to Bay 
 Bulls, starts like this : — 
 
 " Come, all ye hardy fisher-men 
 An' hearken to me lay 
 O' how the good brig * Peggy Bell' 
 Went down in Trin'ty Bay. 
 
 ** The skipper he was from St. John's, 
 The mate from Harbor Grace; 
 The bosun was a noble lad 
 
 Wid whiskers 'round his face." 
 
 Pat Kavanagh was the author of the ballad that 
 commences this way. and of many more. 
 
 He was proud of his daughter and hi wooden 
 
142 
 
 The Harbor Master 
 
 leg; he was happy with his fiddle and his verses; 
 he did not hold with physical or emotional violence, 
 and asked the world for nothing more than to be 
 left alone beside his stove with a knowledge that 
 there was something in the pot and a few cakes of 
 hard bread in the bin. He could not understand 
 the new skipper, his terrible activity, his hard-fisted 
 ways and his ambitions, and he took no stock in 
 wrecks except as subjects for songs; but he had 
 been delighted with a gift of four fine blankets 
 and two quarts of rum which the skipper had made 
 him recently. 
 
 Mary Kavanagh opened the door to the skipper, 
 and let a fine light slip into her blue eyes at the 
 sight of him. Her cheeks, which had been unusu- 
 ally pale when she opened the door, flushed bright 
 and deep. The young man greeted her pleasantly 
 and easily, and stepped across the threshold. Pat 
 was already out of bed and seated in his chair close 
 to the stove. He was long and thin, with a strag- 
 gling beard and moustaches, a long face, a long 
 nose, and kindly, twinkling eyes. Though he 
 looked happy enough he also looked like a widower 
 — why, I can't say. It may have been owing to 
 his general unstowed, unfurled, unswabbed appear- 
 
 m 
 
 rssrrresxnmB^r^ 
 
Some Early Visits 
 
 143 
 
 ance. He had not yet fastened on his wooden leg. 
 He never did, nowadays, until he had eaten his 
 breakfast and played a tune or two on his fiddle. 
 His eyes were paler than his daughter's, and not 
 nearly so bright, and he had a way of staring at 
 a thing for minutes at a time as if he did not see 
 it — and usually he didn't. Altogether, he was a 
 very impractical person. He must have made a 
 feeble sailor — a regular fool as a look-out — and 
 the wonder is that he lost only one leg during his 
 Jeep-sea career. He looked at the skipper with that 
 calm, far-away shimmer in his eyes, combing his 
 thin whiskers with his fingers. He did not speak. 
 His wooden leg was leaning up against his 
 chair. 
 
 " Good morning to ye, Pat Kavanagh," said the 
 skipper. 
 
 The poet blinked his eyes, thereby altering their 
 expression from a shimmer to a gray, wise gleam. 
 
 " So it bes yerself, Skipper Denny," he said. 
 " Set down. Set down. Sure, b'y. I didn't ex- 
 pect to see ye so spry to-day, an' was just studyin' 
 out a few verses concernin' death an' pride an' 
 ructions that would keep yer memory green." 
 
 *' Whist, father ! " exclaimed the girl. 
 
 mx 
 
 ??i5^?^^SB^ 
 
144 
 
 The Harbor Master 
 
 " I bain't dead, Pat, so ye kin set to on some 
 new varses," said the skipper. *' If ye t'ought them 
 poor fools ye heard yowlin' last night was to be 
 the death o' me, then ye was on the wrong tack. 
 But I bes here now to ax yer opinion concernin" 
 them same fools, Pat. Yesterday they raised a 
 mutiny agin me, all along o' a poor girl as I saved 
 from the wrack, an' last night an* this momin' I 
 lamed 'em the error o' their ways. Now ye was 
 once a deep-sea sailorman, Pat, a-sailin' foreign 
 v'yages. an' so I wants ye to tell me what I'd bet- 
 ter be doin' wid some o' them squid ? There was 
 Foxey Jack Quinn; but he run away an' done for 
 himself in the flurry. Her? bes Dick Lynch, nigh 
 as treacherous c?n' full o' divilment as ever Jack 
 was, growlin' an' snarlin' at me heels like a starvin' 
 husky an' showin' his teeth every now an' agin. 
 So I wants to know, Pat, will I kill him dead or run 
 him out o' the harbor? I bes skipper here — aye, 
 an' more nor skipper — an' all a man has to do 
 to live safe an' happy an' rich in this harbor bes 
 to do what I tells him to do — but this here Dick 
 Lynch bain't knowledgeable enough to see it. I's 
 had to bat him twice. Next time I bais him maybe 
 I'd best finish the job? I puts it to ye, Pat Kav- 
 
Some Early Visits 
 
 145 
 
 anagh, because ye knows the world an' how sich 
 things bes done aboai^ foreign-going ships." 
 
 " This harbor bain't no foreign-going ship, 
 Denny," replied the poet. 
 
 " True, Pat ; but if I calls it a ship it bes the 
 same as one ! " retorted the skipper. 
 
 " If ye takes it that way, Denny, then ye'd best 
 be handin' the lad over to the jedges to be tried 
 for mutiny." suggested the other, quietly. " But if 
 ye wants my opinion, ye'll leave him be." 
 
 "Leave him be?" 
 
 "Aye. He bain't worth troublin' about. Bat 
 him now an' agin, if he tries to knife ye, an' maybe 
 he'll follow Jack Quinn. But this harbor bain't 
 a ship, lad. The skipper o' a ship has the law to 
 his back in cases o' mutiny an' the like — but the 
 law bain't behind ye, Dennis Nolan ! " 
 
 " The divil fly away wid the law ! " cried the 
 skipper. " I bes skipper here ! I makes the law 
 for this harbor — an' them as don't like the laws 
 I makes kin go somewheres else." 
 
 " Leave him be, skipper. That bes what I tells 
 ye, for yer own good. Don't kill him. Ye kin 
 break up desarted wracks; ye kin fill yer pockets 
 wid gold; ye kin bat yer mates over the nob if 
 
IM V 
 
 146 
 
 The Harbor Master 
 
 ye wants to: but once ye get ro killin' men, Denny 
 N'olan, then ye'll find t' e law to yer back sure 
 Miough, a-fixin' a noose around } r neck! Aye, 
 lad. that bes the truth! ^ warns ye because I liKe*^ 
 ' c — ai 1 bes glad to set ye so prosperous." 
 
CHAPTER X 
 
 MARY K 
 
 NAGH 
 
 numi of men with sore heads and dry 
 louths made .heir way to the top of the cliff, across 
 the barrens and into a thin belt of spruces. There 
 they worked as well as ti y could at cutting timber 
 for Father McQueen' rch They were a dolor- 
 
 ous company. The - spirit of mutiny had 
 
 passed away, leaving ' it the fear of the 
 
 skipper. The courage, and inspiring glow 
 
 of the brandy had ebbed m.. evaporated, leaving 
 the quaking stomach, the swimming brain, the 
 misty eye. They groaned as they hacked at the 
 trees, for the desire to lie down on the cold snow 
 was hta.y upon them; but still they hacked away, 
 for the tear of Black Dennis Nolan, the unconquer- 
 able, was like a hot breath upon their necks. They 
 said some bitter things about Dick Lynch. 
 
 The skipper visited the wreck, accompanied by 
 Bill Brennen and a few of the men and boys who 
 had not taken part in yesterday's mutiny. The 
 
 147 
 
148 
 
 The Harbor Master 
 
 sea was almost flat and there was no wind. The 
 hatches were broken open; and what they could 
 see of the Royal William's cargo looked entirely 
 satisfactory to them — sail-cloth, blankets, all man- 
 ner of woollen and cotton goods, boots and shoes, 
 hams, cheeses and tinned meats. Though some 
 of these things were damaged by the salt water, 
 few of them were ruined by it. They worked all 
 day at winching out the cargo. Next day, the men 
 who had cooled their sore heads in the woods were 
 also put to work on the stranded ship. With tim- 
 bers and tarpaulins from the ship they built a store- 
 house on the barren, in the midst of a thicket of 
 spruces. In the two days they managed to save 
 about a quarter of the cargo. The skipper drove 
 them hard, an iron belaying pin in his hand and 
 slashing words always on his lips. But even the 
 dullest of them saw that he neither drove, cursed 
 nor threatened Bill Brennen, Nick Leary or any of 
 the men who had kept out of the mutiny. Most 
 of the stuff that was salvaged was put in the new 
 store, but a few hundreds of pounds of it were 
 carried to the harbor. 
 
 During these two days the skipper did not once 
 set eyes on the girl he had saved from the fore- 
 
Mary Kavanagh 
 
 149 
 
 top. Mother Nolan would not let him approach 
 within two yards of the door of the room in which 
 she lay. It seemed, from Mother Nolan's talk, that 
 the beautiful stranger was always sleeping. But, 
 through the old woman, he learned her name. It 
 was Flora Lockhart. 
 
 When the skipper and Cormick reached home 
 after the second day's work on the cargo. Mother 
 Nolan told them that Flora was in the grip of a 
 desperate fever, upon which none of her brews 
 of roots and herbs seemed to have any effect. She 
 was hot as fire and babbled continually of things 
 strange and mad to the ears of the old woman. 
 The skipper was dismayed at the news; but his 
 vigorous mind immediately began to search for a 
 means of dealing with the fever. He knew nothing 
 of any remedies save the local ones, in the manu- 
 facture and administering of which his grand- 
 mother was a mistress. But here was the Royal 
 William's medicine-chest, and here was Pat Kava- 
 nagh who had sailed foreign voyages in vessels 
 carrying similar chests. He rushed from the house 
 straight to the poet-fiddler's cabin. He pushed open 
 the door and entered without knocking, as the cus- 
 tom is in Chance Along. Mary was attending to 
 
 
 i 
 
150 
 
 The Harbor Master 
 
 a stew-pan on the stove, and Pat was seated in his 
 chair with his wooden leg strapped in place. The 
 skipper told of the stranger's fever. 
 
 " An' ye has the ship's medicine-chest? " queried 
 Pat. " Then we'll give her the bitter white powder 
 — quinine — aye, quinine. Every ship carries it, 
 lad. When I was took wid the fever in Port-o'- 
 Spain didn't the mate shake it on to me tongue 
 till me ears crackled like hail on the roof, an' when 
 I got past stickin' out me tongue didn't he mix it 
 wid whiskey an' pour it into me? Sure, Denny! 
 An' it knocked the fever galley west in t'ree dayo 
 an' left me limp as cook's dish-clout hangin' to -^ry 
 under the starboard life-boat. But it bes better 
 nor dyin' entirely wid the fever. I'll step round 
 wid ye, skipper, and p'int out this here quinine 
 to ye." 
 
 And he did. He found a large bottle of quinine 
 in the box, in powder form. He measured out a 
 quantity of it in doses of from three to five grains, 
 for his memory of the sizes of the doses adminir 
 tered to him by the mate was somewhat dim, ana 
 advised Mother Nolan not to give the powders too 
 often nor yet not often enough. Mother Nolan 
 asked for more exact directions. She felt that she 
 
 u.--Msi:'ir?iMiilt l cJm 
 
Mary Kavanagh 
 
 151 
 
 had a right to them. Pat Kavanagh combed his 
 long whiskers reflectively with his long fingers, 
 gazing at the medicine-chest with a far-away look 
 in his pale eyes. 
 
 '* I don't rightly recollect the ins an' outs o' me 
 own case," he said, at last, " but I has a dim picter 
 in me mind o' how Mister Swim, the mate, shook 
 the powder on to me tongue every blessed time I 
 opened me mouth to holler. An" the b'ys let me 
 drink all the cold water I could hold — aye. an' 
 never once did they wake me up when I was sleepin' 
 quiet, not even to give the quinine to me. An' 
 they stowed me in blankets an' made me sweat, 
 though the fo'castle was hotter nor the hatches o' 
 hell. An' when I wouldn't stick out me tongue 
 for the powder then they'd melt it in whiskey an' 
 pour it down me neck." 
 
 With this Mother Nolan had to be content. She 
 retired to her own room, mixed a powder in a cup 
 of root-tea and gave it to the girl, who was quiet 
 now, though wide-awake and bright-eyed. Kava- 
 nagh went home, invented a ballad about his fever 
 in Port-o'-Spain, and wrote it upon hi. memory, 
 verse by verse — for he did not possess the art of 
 writing upon paper. After supper Cormick retired 
 
152 
 
 The Harbor Master 
 
 to the loft and his bed; but the skipper did not 
 touch a blanket that night. He spent most of the 
 time in his chair by the stove; but once in every 
 hour he tiptoed into his grandmother's room and 
 listened. If he heard any sound from the inner 
 room when the old woman happened to be asleep 
 he awakened her and sent her in to Flora Lockhart. 
 At dawn he fell asleep in his chair and dreamed 
 that he was the mate of a foreign-going ship, and 
 that all he had to do was to shake white powders 
 on to the tongue of the girl he had saved from the 
 fore-top of the Royal William. Cormick shook him 
 awake when breakfast was ready. After hearing 
 from Mother Nolan that the girl seemed much 
 cooler and better than she had since the early after- 
 noon of the previous day, he ate his breakfast and 
 went out and sent all the able-bodied men to get 
 timber for Father McQueen's church, some from 
 the woods and others from the wreck. They would 
 haul the timber after the next fall of snow. But 
 he did not go abroad himself. He hung about the 
 harbor all day, sometimes in his own kitchen, some- 
 times down on the land-wash, and sometimes in 
 other men's cabins. He put a new dressing on the 
 wound of the lad who had received the knife and 
 
Mary Kavanagh 
 
 153 
 
 paid another visit to Dick Lynch. Lynch was still 
 in bed; but this time he did not drag him out on 
 the floor. 
 
 Mother Nolan was full of common sense and 
 wise instincts, in spite of the fact that she believed 
 in fairies, mermaids and the personal attentions of 
 the devil. She was doctor and nurse by nature 
 as well as by practice — by everything, in short, 
 but education. So it happened that sh^ did not 
 follow Pat Kavanagh's instructions to the letter. 
 She argued to herself that Pat's fever had been 
 a hot-climate one, while Flora Lockhart's was un- 
 doubtedly a cold-climate one. She saw that the 
 girl's trouble was a sickness, accompanied by high 
 fever, brought on by cold and exposure. So she 
 did not give the quinine quite as generously as the 
 fiddler had recommended, and kept right on with her 
 hot brews of herbs and roots in addition. Instinct 
 told her that if she could drive out the cold the 
 fever would follow it out of its own accord. 
 
 In the afternoon the girl became restless and 
 highly feverish again, and by sunset she was 
 slightly delirious. She talked constantly in her 
 wonderful voice of fame, of great cities and of 
 many more things which sounded meaningless and 
 
154 
 
 The Harbor Master 
 
 al .rming to Mother Nolan. For a little while she 
 thought she was on the Royal IVilluim, talking to 
 the captain about the great reception that awaited 
 her in New York, her own city, which she had 
 left four years ago, humble and unknown, and was 
 now returning to, garlanded with European recog- 
 nition. It was all double-Dutch to Mother Nolan. 
 She put an end to it with her potent dose of quinine 
 and whiskey. She spent this night in her patient's 
 room, keeping the fire roaring and catching cat- 
 naps in a chair by the hearth; and the skipper 
 haunted the other side of the door. Toward morn- 
 ing the girl asked for a drink, as sanely as anybody 
 could, took it eagerly, and then sank into a quiet 
 sleep. The old woman nodded in her chair. The 
 skipper tiptoed back to the kitchen and flung him- 
 self across his bed. 
 
 After the fourtli day of the fight against the 
 fever Mother Nolan saw that the struggle was 
 likely to prove too much for her, if prolonged at 
 the present pitch, whatever it might prove for Flora 
 Lockhart; so she sent the skipper over to bring 
 Mary Kavanagh to her. Now Mary was as kind- 
 hearted and honest as she was big and beautiful. 
 Her mind was strong and sane, and spiced with 
 
Mary Kavanagh 
 
 155 
 
 .1 honesty were spiced 
 iS human all through. 
 
 a quick wit. Her kindne 
 with a warm temper. She 
 As she could flame to love so could she flame to 
 anger. As she could melt to pity so could she chill 
 to pride. In short, though she was a fine and good 
 young woman, she wasn't an angel. Angels have 
 their place in heaven; and the place and duty of 
 Mary Kavanagh was on this poor earth, where 
 men's souls are still held in shells of clay and 
 wrenched this way and that way by the sorrows 
 and joys of their red hearts. Like most good 
 human women, Mary had all the makings of a 
 saint in her; but heaven itself could never make 
 a sexless, infallible angel of her. 
 
 Mary told her father not to forget to keep the 
 fire burning, threw a blue cloak over her head and 
 shoulders, and accompanied the skipper back to 
 Mother Nolan. Short as the distance was between 
 the two dwellings she glanced twice at her com- 
 panion, with kindliness, inquiry and something of 
 anxiety in her dark gray eyes. But he stared ahead 
 of him so intently, with eyes somewhat haggard 
 from lack of sleep, that he did not notice the 
 glances. Mother Nolan welcomed her joyfully. 
 
 " Help me tend on this poor lamb from the 
 
156 
 
 The Harbor Master 
 
 wrack," said the old woman, " an' ye'll be the 
 savin' of me life. Me poor old eyes feels heavy 
 as stove-lids, Mary dear." 
 
 " Sure, I'll help ye, Mother Nolan, an' why 
 not?" returned Mary, throwing aside her cloak 
 from her smooth brown head and strong, shapely 
 shoulders. " Father kin mind himself, if he bes 
 put to it, for a little while. Now tell me what ye 
 does for the lady, Mother Nolan, dear, an' give 
 me a look at her, an' then pop into bed wid ye, 
 an' I'll lay a bottle o' hot water to yer feet." 
 
 " Saints bless ye, me dear. May every hair o' 
 yer darlint head turn into a wax candle to light 
 ye to glory amongst the holy saints," returned 
 the old woman. 
 
 So it came about that Mary Kavanagh joined 
 in the fight for the life of the girl from the wreck. 
 She stood her trick at Flora's bedside turn and 
 turn about with the old woman, quiet as a fairy 
 on her feet, though she wa'^ urely as big as a 
 dozen fairies, quiet as a whis. -r with her voice, 
 her hands as gentle as snow that falls in windless 
 weather. She did not worry about her father. 
 There was bread in the bin and fish in the shed 
 for him, and he had his fiddle and his ballads. 
 
 rJClPJwrT 
 
 T«r 
 
 ' r..iai^,. a 
 
Mary Kavanagh 
 
 157 
 
 Every evening, sometimes before and sometimes 
 after supper, he came over and sat with the skip- 
 per, combing his long beard with his restless fin- 
 gers, and telling improbable tales of his deep-sea 
 voyages. 
 
 The skipper's faith in his grandmother and Mary 
 was great. He soon schooled himself to stay away 
 from the house for hours at a time, and give at least 
 half his attention to the work of impressing the men 
 with his mastery, and getting out lumber for the 
 little church which Father McQueen was to build 
 in June, on the barrens behind and above Chance 
 Along. The men felt and knew his touch of mas- 
 tery. They felt that this work at church-building 
 was sure to lift any curse and devilment from the 
 harbor, if such things had really been, and establish 
 the skipper's good luck for all time. Dick Lynch, 
 who still walked feebly, with a bandage about his 
 head, was in bad repute with all of them, and more 
 especially with the blood-kin of the young man 
 whom he had knifed in the drunken fight er the 
 geld. But the youth who had been knifed, Pat 
 Brennen by name, was in a fair way to recover 
 from the wound, thank"; to the skipper's care and 
 the surgical dressings from the Royal William's 
 
 -aB'/ ' ,' 
 
158 
 
 The Harbor Master 
 
 medicine-chest. So they worked well, ate well, 
 clothed themselves in warm garments made by their 
 womenfolk from the goods saved from the last 
 wreck, and said with their undependable tongues, 
 from the shallows of their undependable hearts, that 
 Black Dennis Nolan was a great man and a terrible. 
 The spirit of distrust and revolt was dead — or 
 sound asleep, at least. 
 
 The hot poison of the fever in Flora Lockhart's 
 blood was drawn after days of ceaseless care and 
 innumerable doses of quinine and brews of herbs 
 and roots; but it left behind it a weakness of spirit 
 and body, and a dangerous condition of chest and 
 throat. Mother Nolan and Mary Kavanagh saw 
 that the fight was only half won, and neither of 
 them laid aside their arms for a moment, though 
 they changed their tactics. Now the fire in the 
 chimney was kept roaring more fiercely than ever, 
 bottles of hot water were kept always in the bed, 
 the blankets were heated freely, and hot broth and 
 steaming spirits were given in place of the brews 
 of roots and leaves. The skipper and Cormick went 
 far afield and succeeded in shooting several willow- 
 grouse, and these Mother Nolan madr into broth 
 for i<lora. The best of everything that could be 
 
Mary Kavanagh 
 
 150 
 
 procured was hers. She began to recover strength 
 at last, and then each day brought improvement. 
 By this time she and Mary Kavanagh had warmed 
 toward each other until a friendship was estab- 
 lished. Flora had thanked Mary beautifully, many 
 times over, for her care, and had talked a great 
 deal of herself and her ambitions. She had told 
 Mary and Mother Nolan the hardships and glories 
 of her past and her great dreams for the future. 
 On the day that Mary was to go back to her father, 
 Flora drew her down and kissed her fondly. 
 
 *' You and Mother Nolan have saved my life," 
 she said. " and I am your friend — yours especially, 
 Mary — forever and ever. I shall prove my love 
 and gratitude, you may be sure. Out in the big 
 world, Mary, I am somebody — I have the power 
 to do kindnesses and repay debts. New York is 
 full of fame and money, and a great deal of it is 
 waiting for me." 
 
 Mary thanked her, kis -ed her in return, and said 
 gently that she did not want to be rewarded for 
 her nursing, except by love. She added that it was 
 Black Dennis Nolan, tiic skipper, who had saved 
 Flora's life. 
 
 " I remember him vaguely," said the other. " He 
 
r 1 
 
 160 
 
 The Harbor Master 
 
 took me away from that terrible place where I was 
 swaying and tossing between the waves and the 
 sky. The queer things I saw in my fever dreams 
 have dimmed the memory of the wreck, thank God 
 — and now they themselves are growing dim. He 
 is a big man, is he not, and young and very strong? 
 And his eyes are almost black, I think. I will pay 
 him for what he has done, you may be sure, Mary. 
 I suppose he is a fisherman, or something of thai 
 kind?" 
 
 " He bain't the kind to want money for what 
 he has done," said Mary, slowly. " He be skipper 
 o' Chance Along, like his father was afore him — 
 but there never was another skipper like him, for 
 all that. He saved ye from the wrack, an' now ye 
 lay in his house — but I warns ye not to offer 
 money to him for the sarvice he has done ye. Sure, 
 he wouldn't be needin' the money, an' wouldn't take 
 it if he was. He lives by the sea — aye, in his own 
 way! — an' when the sea feeds full at all she fills 
 her men with the divil's own pride." 
 
 Flora was puzzled and slighdy amused. She 
 patted the other's hand and smiled up at her. 
 
 "Is he so rich then?" she asked. ''And what 
 is a skipper? — if he is not the captain of a ship? 
 
 if 
 
 r'^9jr 
 
Mary K^vanagh 
 
 161 
 
 How can a man be the skipper of a village like 
 this?" 
 
 " His father was skipper," replied Mary. " The 
 fore-an'-aft schooner bes his, an' the store wid 
 flour an' tea in it for whoever needs them. It bcs 
 the way o' the coast — more or less." 
 
 " Have any letters come for me? Have people 
 from New York arranged yet to take me away ? " 
 asked Flora, suddenly forgetting about the skipper 
 and remembering her own career so terribly inter- 
 rupted and so strangely retarded. " I shall be able 
 :c> travel in a few days, I think. What have the 
 ritv papers said about my misfortunes?" 
 
 The pink faded a little frrjr* Mary's cheeks and 
 hci gray eyes seemed t j din. 
 
 " Saints love ye ! " ; iie said. " There bes no 
 letters for ye, my dear — an' how would there be ? 
 Up-along they'll be still waitin' for the ship — or 
 maybe they have give up waitin' by this time. How 
 would they know she was wracked on this coast? " 
 
 The beautiful singer gazed at her in consterna- 
 tion and amazement. Her wonderful sea-eyes 
 flashed to their clear sea-depths where the cross- 
 lights lay. 
 
 " But — but has no word been sent to New 
 
162 
 
 The Harbor Master 
 
 York ? — to anywhere ? " she cried. " Surely you 
 cannot mean that people do not know of the wreck, 
 and that 1 am here? What of the owners of the 
 ship? Oh, God, what a place! " 
 
 Mary was startled for a moment, then thoughtful. 
 She had never before wondered what the great 
 world of " Up-along " — which is everywhere south 
 and cast and west of Newfoundland, London, New 
 York, Pernambuco, Halifax, Montreal, Africa, 
 China and the lands and seas around and between 
 — must think of the ships that sail away and never 
 return. Wrecks had always seemed to her as nat- 
 ural as tides and storms. When the tide comes 
 in who thinks of reporting it to the great world? 
 Spars and shattered timbers come in on the tides; 
 and sometimes hulls more or less unbroken : and 
 sometimes living humans. Mary had seen some- 
 thing of these things herself and had heard much. 
 She had never known of the spars or hulls being 
 claimed by any person but the folk who found them 
 and fought with the sea for them. She had seen 
 shipwrecked sailors tarry awhile, take their food 
 thankfully, and presently set out for St. John's and 
 the world beyond, by way of Witless Bay. None 
 of them had ever come back to Chance Along 
 
 m 
 
Mary Kavanagh 
 
 163 
 
 " I bes sorry for ye wid my whole heart," she 
 said. " Yer folks will be mournin' for ye, I fear — 
 for how would they know ye was safe in Chance 
 Along? But the saints have presarved your life, 
 dear, an' when spring-time comes then ye can sail 
 'round to St. John's an' away to New York. But 
 sure, we might have writ a letter about ye an' car- 
 ried it out to Witless Bay. The skipper can write." 
 
 " I have been buried alive ! " cried Flora, cover- 
 ing her face with her hands and weeping unre- 
 strainedly. 
 
 Mary tried to comfort her, then left the room to 
 find Mother Nolan. The old woman was in the 
 kitchen, and Dennis was with her. 
 
 " She bes desperate wrought-up because — be- 
 cause her folks up-along will think she bes dead," 
 explained Mary. " She says she bes buried alive 
 in Chance Along. Skipper, ye had best write a 
 letter about herself an' the wrack, an' send it out. 
 She bes a great person up-along." 
 
 The skipper sprang to his feet, staring at her 
 with a blank face and with defiance in his eyes. 
 
 •'A letter! " he exclaimed, huskily. "No, by 
 hell! Let 'em t'ink what they wants to! Bain't 
 Chance Along good enough for her? " 
 
CHAPTER XI 
 
 THE SKIPPER CARRIES A LETTER 
 
 m 
 
 Mary Kavanagh paled, flushed again, and low- 
 ered her eyes. Old Mother Nolan turned a search- 
 ing glance upon her grandson — a glance with 
 derision and something of pity in it. 
 
 " An' how would Chanc2 Along be good enough 
 for the likes o* her?" said she. "Denny Nolan, 
 bes ye a fool entirely? Good enough for her, says 
 ye — an' her singin' like a lark afore the young 
 Queen herself, saints presarve he»-, wid the Prince 
 an' the dukes a-settin' round in their grand gold 
 crowns, a-t'rowin' roses an' jewels at her little feet! 
 What bes Chance Along to her — aye, an' any poor 
 soul in it? We've give her life back to her, Denny, 
 me lad, an' now we'll give herself back to the grand 
 world o' up-along. where great singers bes nigh the 
 same as gn at ladies, as I have heard me own grand- 
 father tell, who was once in Dublin a-holdin' the 
 gentry's horses at the play-house door." 
 
 1«4 
 
The Skipper Carries a Letter 165 
 
 The skipper glared straight before him, then sank 
 into his chair. 
 
 " I'll pen no letter," he said, " I swears it by the 
 knuckle-bones o' the holy saints ! " 
 
 Mother Nolan turned to Mary, wagging her head. 
 
 " There bes ink an' a pen on the shelf there, 
 an' a scrap o' clean paper in Denny's great book 
 yonder," she said. " Take 'em to her an' let her 
 pen the word wid her own hand." She turned to 
 Denny. " And ye, Denny Nolan, will send it out 
 to Witless Bay, an' from Witless Bay to St. John's, 
 an' so to New York." 
 
 " I bears ye," returned the skipper. 
 
 " Aye, that ye do," said the spirited old woman, 
 "an' a good t'ing for ye I bes here to tell ye! 
 W-h>' for wouldn't ye be sendin' out the letter? 
 What for d'ye be wantin' Miss Flora Lockhart to 
 stop here in Chance Along? — and her who never 
 put a hand to a stroke o' honest work since her 
 mother bore her! — her who sang to the Queen 
 o' England! Ye'd be better, Denny, wid a real 
 true mermaid, tail an' all, in Chance Along. Wrack 
 ye km break abroad; cargoes ye kin lift an' devour; 
 gold an' jewels ye kin hide away; but when live 
 women be t'rowed up to ye by the sea ye kin do 
 
166 
 
 The Harbor Master 
 
 naught but let 'em go. The divil bes in the women, 
 lad — the women from up-along. An' the law 
 would be on yer heels — aye, an' on to yer neck — 
 afore ye knowed how the wind was blowin'! An* 
 what would his riverence be sayin' to ye? " 
 
 Mary Kavanagh had left the kitchen by this time, 
 carrying pen, ink and paper to the girl in Father 
 McQueen's room. Denny raised his iiead, and met 
 the regard of his grandmother's bright old eyes 
 proudly. 
 
 " I wants to marry her," he said. " An" why 
 not ? Bain't I skipper here — aye, skipper o' every 
 man an' boat in the harbor? She'd have no call 
 to touch her hand to honest work if she was my 
 wife. Bain't I rich? — and like to be richer? I'll 
 build her a grand house. She'll have wine every 
 day, an' jewels on her fingers, an' naught to do all 
 day, by Saint Peter, hut put the gowns o' silk on to 
 her back. Bain't that better nor singin' an' ca- 
 vortin' afore the Queen? " 
 
 " Denny, ye bes a fool, sure, fi.r all yer great 
 oaths an' masterful ways wid the men.' said 
 Mother Nolan. " Ye bes a fool over a woman — 
 an' that be the weakest kind o' fool! W^hat would 
 a lady like her be wantin' wid ye for a husband? 
 
The Skipper Carries a Letter 167 
 
 ignorant 
 
 iat fisherman the like o' ye, 
 skipper o' no skipper? What bes a skipper to the 
 like o' her? No more nor a dog, Denny Nolan! 
 She'd break yer heart an' send yer soul to damna- 
 tion ! " 
 
 The skipper left his chair without a word, and 
 strode from the kitchen to Mother Nolan's own 
 room, stooping as he passed through the low door- 
 way. He advanced until he reached Flora's room. 
 It was shut. He halted for a moment, breathing 
 quickly, then rapped with his knuckles, and opened 
 the door. Flora was sitting upright in the bed, 
 backed by pillows and with a shawl over her shoul- 
 ders. She had been writing; and Mary stood be- 
 side the \)Qd and held the bottle of time-faded ink 
 for her. Both girls looked up with startled faces 
 at the skipper's entrance. The young man halted 
 in the middle of the T)om, and stared at the singer. 
 It was the first time he had seen her since the day 
 he had saved her from the Royal IVilliant's fore-top 
 and brought her to this house. He saw that her 
 face was thinner now than on that day, but no paler. 
 The wonderful eyes were as clear, as bright as 
 crystal, and yet as limpid, as when they had first 
 .4)ened to him, there on the swaying cross-trees, 
 
168 
 
 The Harbor Master 
 
 and worked their spell on him. But the lips were 
 red now — as red and bewitching as a mermaid's 
 lips are supposed to be. She was the first to speak. 
 " What is it? What do you want? " she asked 
 somewhat fretfully, in that silver voice that had 
 delighted the ears of the young Queen on the other 
 side of the ocean. The question, or perhap. the 
 way it was asked, sent a chill through Black Dennis 
 Nolan. His glance wavered ai.d he crumpled his 
 fur cap in his hands. His sudden confusion showed 
 in his dark face. 
 
 ^^ *' It bes the skipper," said Mary Kavanagh, 
 " him that fetched ye from the wrack." 
 
 "Oh, I beg your pardon," said Flora. "Of 
 course I should have remembered your face, and 
 now I do. I am very, very grateful to you for 
 saving my life, and I shall never forget it. I shall 
 do everything in my power to repay you for your 
 courage and kindness, you inay be sure; but why 
 did you not send out word that I was here? You 
 knew that I could not do it myself, lying here ill 
 with fever. Perliaps they have grown tired of 
 waitmg for me by now. in New York. Perhaps 
 they think I am dead. Perhaps they have forgot- 
 ten me — and that would be worse than death! " 
 
 ?'\»i- 
 
The Skipper Carries a Letter 
 
 169 
 
 The skipper felt like a fool, then like a whipped 
 dog. It was this last sensation that sent a wave 
 of choking anger through him. He was not ac- 
 customed to it. Had any other woman taken him 
 to task so he would have laughed and forgotten 
 the incident in a minute. Had any man shown such 
 ingratitude he would have smashed his head; but 
 now his dark face flushed and he muttered a few 
 words thickly which passed unheard and unheeded 
 
 even by himself. 
 
 •'I am writing now," continued Flora, "and 
 must ask you to send it out to some place from 
 which it can reach civilization, and be mailed to 
 New York. It is very important — almost a mat- 
 ter of life and death to me — for it may yet be in 
 time to save my career, even my engagement in 
 
 New York." 
 
 The skipper maintained his silence, crushing his 
 cap in his big hands and glowering at the rag-mat 
 under his feet. Two kinds of love, several kinds 
 of devils, pride, anger and despair were battling 
 
 in his heart. 
 
 " Yell take out the letter, skipper, sure ye will," 
 said Mary, smiling at him across the bed. Her 
 fair face was pink and her eyes perturbed. The 
 
170 
 
 The Harbor Master 
 
 man did not notice the pink of her cheeks or the 
 anxiety iij her eyes. 
 
 " Why, of course you will take it — or send it," 
 said Miss Lockhart. " It is a very small thing to 
 do for a person for whom you have already done 
 so much. You are the kindest people in the world 
 — you three. You have saved my life twice, 
 among- you. I shall never, never forget your kind- 
 ness, and as soon as I reach New York I shall 
 repay you all. I shall soon be rich." 
 
 Black Dennis Nolan looked at her. straight into 
 her sea-eyes, and felt the bitter-sweet spell of them 
 again to the very depths of his being. Her glance 
 was the first to waver. A veil of color slipped up 
 softly across her pale cheek.^ Younj:^ as she was, 
 she had seen other men raze at her with that same 
 light in their eyes. They had all been young men. 
 she reflected. Others, in Paris and London, had 
 looked with less of pure bewitchment and more of 
 desire in their eyes. She was not ignorant of her 
 charms, her power, her equipment to pluck the 
 pearl from the oyster of the world. She could 
 marry wealth; she could win .-.ealth and more fame 
 with her voice and beauty on thf concert-stage ; she 
 could do both. But in spite of her knowledge of 
 
The Skipper Carries a Letter 171 
 
 the great world, her heart was neither blinded to 
 the true things of worth nor entirely hardened. If 
 she ever married, it would be for wealth and posi- 
 tion, as the world counted such things, but never 
 a man — lord or commoner — who did not come to 
 her with the light of pure witchery in his eyes. She 
 remembered, smiling down at the half-written let- 
 ter to her New York agent, how that light had 
 shone in the honest eyes of a young officer of the 
 ship in which she had sailed from America to Eu- 
 rope. Her reflections, which had passed through 
 her brain with a swiftneis beyond that of any 
 six>ken or written -<ords. were interrupted by the 
 skipper. 
 
 " I bes rich r.ow." he said thickly. 
 Mary Kavanagh lost color at that and turned 
 her face away from them both, toward the fire in 
 the wide chimney. Flora Lockhart looked up at the 
 speaker, puzzhJ. but still smiling faintly. Her face 
 was verj' beautiful and kind --but with an elfin 
 kindness that seemed not all womanly, scarcely all 
 human. Her beauty was almost too delicate, stri- 
 king and unusual to bear the impress of a com- 
 mon-day kindness. She laughed gently but 
 clearly. 
 
 "•fc'T'-'tK- '.- 
 
 C^&JiSSSSff', •Cj'^iSSKS. 
 
172 
 
 The Harbor Master 
 
 " I am glad you are rich," she said. " You are 
 rich in virtues, I know — all three of you." 
 
 " I bes rich in gold an' gear," said the skipper. 
 " Rich as any marchant." 
 
 " I am glad," returned the girl. " It will be 
 pleasant for me, in the future, to always picture 
 my preservers in comfort. I hope you may con- 
 tinue to prosper, skipper — you and all your people. 
 But here is the letter. Ho\\ will you get it to New 
 York, do you think?" 
 
 The skipper advanced to the bed, and took the 
 letter. His fingers touched hers. 
 
 "I'll be takin' it to Witless Bay meself." he 
 stammered. *' Sure, that would be safest. It bes 
 a longish trip; but I'll do it." He paused and 
 stared down at the letter in his hand. " But 
 'twould take me t'ree days an' more, there an' back 
 — an' what would the men be doing wid me away? 
 The divil himself only knows! Maybe they'd get 
 to t'inkin' agin as ye bes a witch. I'll be sendin' 
 Bill Brennen wid it, afore sun-up to-morrow." 
 
 " And who will take it from Witless Bay to St. 
 John's?" asked Flcra. 
 
 " Foxey Garge Hudson, the Queen's own mail- 
 carrier. There bes a post-office in Witless Bay," 
 
 mm 
 
The Skipper Carries a Letter 178 
 
 returned the skipper. " He makes the trip to St. 
 John's once every week in winter-time, bar flurries 
 an' fog, an' maybe twice every week in the summer- 
 time. If it be'd summer-time now I'd sail the 
 letter right round to St. John's in me fore-an'-aft 
 schooner." 
 
 "What a terrible place! It seems to be thou- 
 sands of miles out of the world," murmured the 
 singer. " Don't any ships ever come to this har- 
 bor — except wrecks ? " 
 
 The skipper shook his head. " Me own fore- 
 an'-aft, the Polly, bes the only vessel trades wid 
 this harbor," he said. He stowed the letter away 
 in his pocket, turned and strode from the room 
 and out of the house. He looked calm enough 
 now, but the battle was still raging within 
 him. 
 
 The skipper was out of bed next morning at the 
 first peep of dawn. He dressed for a long journey, 
 stuffed his pockets with food, and then wakened 
 his grandmother. 
 
 " I bes goin' meself wid this letter," he said. 
 " The men won't be tryin' any o' their tricks, I 
 bes t'inkin'. Dick Lynch hain't fit for any divil- 
 ment yet awhile an' 'tothers be busy gettin' tim- 
 
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 ■^ ' ' tast Wa^n Street 
 
 f^^cheste'. New i-oru 14609 USA 
 
 (716) *82 - 0300 - Phone 
 
 (716) 288 ~ ^989 - Fax 
 
174 
 
 The Harbor Master 
 
 ber for the church. Send Cormy to tell Bill Bren- 
 nen an' Nick Leary to keep 'em to it." 
 
 "Why bes ye goin' yerself, Denny?" inquired 
 the old woman. 
 
 " Sure, it bes safest for me to carry the letter, 
 Granny," returned the skipper. 
 
 He ate his breakfast, drank three mugs of strong 
 tea, and set out. A little dry snow had fallen dur- 
 ing the night. The air v;as bitterly cold and mo- 
 tionless, and the only sound was the sharp crackling 
 of the tide fingering the ice along the frozen land- 
 wash. The sky was clear. With the rising of the 
 sun above the rim of the sea a faint breath of icy 
 wind came out of the west. By this time the skip-i 
 per was up on the edge of the barrens, a mile and 
 more away from the little harbor. He was walking 
 at a good pace, smoking his pipe and thinking hard. 
 A thing was in his mind that he could not bring 
 himself to face fairly, as yet. It had been with 
 him several hours of yesterday, and all night, and 
 had caused him to change his plan of sending Bill 
 Brennen with the letter — and still it lurked like a 
 shadow in the back of his mind, unilluminated and 
 unproven. But he knew, deep in his heart, that 
 he would presently consider and act upon this lurk- 
 
The Skipper Carries a Letter 175 
 
 ing, sinister half-thought. Otherwise, he was a 
 fool to be heading for Witless Bay. Bill Brennen, 
 or any other man in the harbor, could have carried 
 the letter as well — except for the idea that had 
 been blindly at work all night in the back of his 
 brain. 
 
 He had made four miles of his journey when he 
 haliod, turned and looked back along the desolate 
 barrens and the irregular edge of the clififs. Mis- 
 givings assailed him. Was Flora safe? What if 
 something should happen — had already happened, 
 perhaps — to stir his treach* -ous fellows to mutiny 
 again? Any little accident might do it if they knew 
 that he was on his wa> to Witless Bay. If one 
 of them should cut his foot with an axe. or drop 
 a tree on one of his comrades, it would be enough 
 (with the skipper out of the way) to raise the sus- 
 picion of witchcraft and curses in their silly, mad 
 souls again. And then what would happen ? What 
 would happen to Flora, the helpless, wonderful, 
 most beautiful creature in the world. He stared 
 back along his path, but the many curves and breaks 
 in the cliff hid from him every sign of Chance 
 Along. Not a roof, chimney, or streamer of smoke 
 broke the desolation. In all the frozen scene he 
 
176 
 
 The Harbor Ma i ::r 
 
 could find no mark of man or man's handiwork. 
 South and north, east and west, lay the frosted 
 barrens, the gray sea, the edge of the cliff twisting 
 away to nothingness around innumerable lifeless 
 bays and coves, and the far horizons fencing all 
 in a desolate circle. But what mattered to the skip- 
 per, what weighed on his heart like despair was 
 the fact that he was out of sight of Chance Along 
 — of the roof that sheltered the girl he had saved 
 from the wreck. He felt the loneliness of that 
 dreary season and coast — for the first time in his 
 life, I think. Anxiety was his teacher. 
 
 And now he knew that he must go on to Witless 
 Bay, and so prove himself a fool for not having 
 sent one of the men, or else face and act upon the 
 thought lurking in the back of his mind. He drew 
 the letter from his pocket and looked at it for a 
 long time, turning it over and over between his 
 fur-clad har.ds. 
 
 " She'll '•oon be forgettin'," he said. " Come 
 summer-time, she'll be forgettin'. I bes rich — an' 
 when she sees the grand house I kin build for her 
 she'll marry me, sure, an' be happy as a queen. 
 An' why not? Bain't I rich as any marchant? 
 She'll be wearin' gold an' silk every day, an' eatin' 
 
The Skipper Carries a Letter 177 
 
 like any queen — an' bain't that better for a grand 
 lady nor singin' songs for a livin' ? — nor singin' 
 songs for her bread an' baccy like old Pat Kava- 
 nagh wid the wooden leg?" 
 
 He tore the letter to fragments and scattered it 
 upon the snow. He had faced the lurking thought 
 at last and acted upon it. 
 
 " Praise be to the saints! " exclaimed the skipper 
 with intense relief. " That bes done — an' a good 
 job, too. That letter'll never be gettin' to up-along, 
 anyhow, an' when she larns- how rich I be, an' 
 begins to love me, she'll- be praisin' the saints the 
 same as me. Why for would she want to be goin' 
 up-along to New York, anyhow? Now I'll jist 
 shape me course 'round beyant the harbor an' see 
 if they squid be up to any divilment or no." 
 
 He made his way inland for about half a mile 
 and then headed southward. As he drew near the 
 line of Chance Along he edged farther away from 
 the coast, deeper into the wilderness of hummocks, 
 frozen bogs and narrow belts of spruce and fir. 
 When at last he heard the axes thumping between 
 himself and the harbor he sat down in a sheltered 
 place and filled and lit his pipe. The men were 
 at work. The letter that would have torn Flora 
 
178 
 
 The Harbor Master 
 
 Lockhart from him was not on its way to New 
 York. All was well with the skipper ?nd the world ! 
 He remained there for an hour, smoking, listening, 
 congratulating himself. By the thumping of the 
 axes and the slow crashings of falling trees he 
 knew that Bill Brennen had put a big crew at the 
 chopping. This knowledge stnled his anxiety for 
 the girl's safety. He knocked out his pipe and 
 stowed it away and moved farther westward until 
 he found a suitable camping-place behind a wooded 
 hill. Here he made a fire, built a little shelter of 
 poles and spruce branches, and rested at his ease. 
 He thought of Flora Lockhart. Her sea-eyes and 
 red lips were as clear and bright as a picture in his 
 brain. Her wonderful, bell-like voice rang in his 
 ears like fairy music. The spell of her was like 
 a ravishing fire in his heart. 
 
 Suddenly the skipper sprang to his feet and 
 slapped a haiid on his thigh. He had remembered 
 the necklace for the first time for many days, and 
 with the memory had flashed the thought that with 
 it to offer he would ha'-e no difficulty in proving his 
 wealth to the lady and winning her heart. Those 
 white diamonds and red rubies were surely just the 
 things ? great lady from up-along would app'«?ciate. 
 
The Skipper Carries a Letter 179 
 
 Could a king on his throne make her a finer gift? 
 He doubted it. The sight of that necklace would 
 open her eyes and melt her heart to the real worth 
 and greatness of the skipper of Chance Along. 
 Poor Skipper Nolan! But after all, he was little 
 more than a savage. Of the hearts of women — 
 even of the women of Chance Along — he was as 
 ignorant as a spotted harbor-seal. He knew no 
 more of Mary Kavanagh's heart than of Flora 
 Lockhart's, but even a savage may win a heart in 
 ignorance, and even a savage may learn ! 
 
 With a great oath the skipper vowed that he 
 would find that necklace; but not to sell for gold, 
 as his old intention had been, but to sell for the 
 possession of the girl from up-along. It seemed 
 an easy thing to do. Foxey Jack Quinn could not 
 have gon very far away from the harbor in that 
 " flurry." Perhaps he had turned back and inland, 
 searching blmdly for shelter, and lay even now 
 somewhere near this fire? It struck the skipper as 
 a great idea. He would have three clear days to 
 give to the quest of the body of Jack Quinn with- 
 out arousing the curiosity of the harbor. Three 
 days, as nearly as he could reckon, was the shortest 
 time in which a man could make the journey to 
 
180 T he Harbor Master 
 
 Witless Bay and back. As he could not show him- 
 self in Chance Along within that time without 
 raising doubts as to the safe delivery of the letter, 
 he was free to devote the time to the r ^overy of 
 the necklace. It was a grand arrar ent alto- 
 gether. Of course he would keep covertly m touch 
 with the harbor, in case of another panic of super- 
 stition; and of course he would find the corpse of 
 Jack Quinn with the precious necklace in its pocket. 
 
CHAPTER XII 
 
 DICK LYNCH GOES ON THE WAR-PATH 
 
 Black Dennis Nolan's explorations in the wil- 
 derness in search of the corpse of Foxey Jack Quinn 
 served no purpose save that of occupying his three 
 days of exile from Chance Along. Of course he 
 acquired a deal of exact iifformation of the country 
 lying beyond the little harbor and north and south 
 of it for several miles; but this knowledge of the 
 minu* ' - of the landscape did not seem of 
 
 much T ; .o him, at the time. He searched high 
 and low, far and wide, returning at intervals of 
 from three to five hours to within sound of the axes 
 of his men. He dug the dry snow from clefts 
 between granite boulders and ransacked the tangled 
 hearts of thickets of spruce-tuck and alder. He 
 investigated frozen swamps, wooded slopes, rocky 
 knolls and hummocks, and gazed down through 
 black ice at the brown waters of frozen ponds. He 
 carried on his search scientifically, taking his camp 
 
 181 
 
 i 
 
 
182 
 
 The Harbor Master 
 
 as a point of departure and moving away from it 
 in ever widening and lengthening curves. He 
 found the shed antlers of a stag, the barrel of an 
 old, long-lost sealing gun, the skeleton of a caribou, 
 and the bones of a fox with one shank still gripped 
 in the jaws of a rusty trap. He found a large dry 
 cave in the side of a knoll. He found the charred 
 butts of an old camp-fire and near it that which 
 had once been a plug of tobacco — a brown, rotten 
 mass, smelling of dead leaves and wet rags. He 
 found a rusted fish-hook, so thorough was his 
 search — aye, and a horn button. In such signs 
 he read the fleeting history of the passing of gen- 
 erations of n '■'" that way — of men from Chance 
 Along who had sought in this wilderness for flesh 
 for their pots and timber for their huts, boats and 
 stages. He found everything but what he was look- 
 ing for — the frozen body of Foxey Jack Quinn 
 with the necklace of diamonds and rubies in its 
 pocket. Then a haunting fear came to him that 
 the thief had escaped — had won out to the big 
 world in spite of ne storm and by some other 
 course than Witless Bay. 
 
 With this fear in him, he carried on terribly for 
 a few minutes, raging around his fire, cursing the 
 
Dick Lynch Goes On the War-path 183 
 
 name and the soul of Foxey Jack Quinn. calling 
 upon the saints for justice, confounding his luck 
 and his enemies. He stopped it suddenly, for he 
 had a way of regaining command of his threshing 
 passions all at once. He did not have to let them 
 thresh themselves out, as is the case with weaker 
 men; but he gripped them, full-blooded, to quiet, 
 by sheer will power and a turn of thought. The 
 force of mastery was strong in Black Dennis 
 Nolan's wild nature. When he wished it he could 
 master himself as well as others. Now he sat down 
 quietly beside his fire and'lit his pipe. The evening 
 was near at hand — the evening of the third and 
 last day of his exile. The sun, like a small round 
 window of red glass, hung low above the black 
 hills to the north and west. He got to his feet, 
 threw snow on the breaking fire and scattered the 
 steaming coals with his foot. Then he pulled down 
 his shelter and threw the poles and spruce branches 
 into a thicket, so that no marks of his encampment 
 were left except the wet coals and smudged ashes 
 I f the fire. 
 
 The crimson sun slid down out of sight behind 
 the black hills to the west and north, and the gray 
 twilight thickened over the wilderness. The last 
 
 I 
 
184 
 
 The Harbor Master 
 
 red tint had faded from the west and the windows 
 of the cabins were glowing when the skipper 
 reached the top of the path leading down to Chance 
 Along. A dog barked — Pat Kavanagh's black 
 crackie — and the whisper of the tide fumbling at 
 edges of ice came up from the land- wash below the 
 fish-house and drying-stages. He saw the spars of 
 his little schooner etched black against the slate- 
 gray of the eastern sky. He stood at the edge of 
 the broken slope, looking and listening. Presently 
 he heard a mutter of voices and saw two dark fig- 
 ures ascending the path. 
 
 " Good evenin', men," he said. 
 
 The two halted. "Glory be!" exclaimed the 
 voice of Bill Brennen. " The skipper himself, sure, 
 praise the saints! Bes it yerself, skipper, an' no 
 mistake ? " 
 
 "Aye, Bill, an' why for not?" returned Nolan. 
 " Didn't ye t'ink as I could make the trip to Wit- 
 less Bay an' back in t'ree days? Bes that yerself, 
 NickLeary?" 
 
 " Aye, skipper, aye," replied Nick. The two 
 were now at the top of the path, staring anxiously 
 at the skipper through the gloom. Leary's head 
 was still in a bandage. 
 
Dick Lynch Goes On the War-path 185 
 
 " We was jist a-settin' out to look for ye, skip- 
 per," said Bill. 
 
 Black Dennis Nolan laughed at that. 
 
 «< 1 
 
 IS ye 
 
 t'inkin' I couldn't find me way back to r own 
 harbor, in fair weather?" he asked. 
 
 " Aye, skipper, sure ye could," said Bill Bren- 
 nen; "but it bes like .1 's wid us. Dick Lynch 
 give us the slip this very day, wid a bottle o' rum 
 in his belly an' the smoke of it in his head, an* ^ 
 gun in his hand. Aye, skipper, an' we didn't lam 
 it till only a minute ago from little Patsy Burke." 
 
 " Aye, that bes the right o' it," broke in Nick 
 Leary. *' We heard tell o' Dick Lynch a-sl'ppin' 
 away to the south'ard jist this minute from litt) 
 Patsy Burke. Drunk as a bo's'un he was, wid h. 
 old swilin'-gun on his shoulder an' the divi/s own 
 flare in the eyes o' him. So we hauled "<!* too, 
 skipper, intendin' to catch him a- r.: he coi.'.e up 
 wid yerself if the saints would give us the 
 luck." 
 
 " Sure, then, I didn't catch a sight o' the treach- 
 erous squid," said the skipper. " Ye see. b'ys, I 
 took a swing off to the westward to-day to spy out 
 some, timber. But what would Dick Lynch be 
 huntin' me wid his swilin'-gun for? Why 'or d'ye 
 
186 
 
 The Harbor Master 
 
 say he was huntin' me? Didn't I put the comather 
 on to him last time? The divil's own courage must 
 be in him if he bes out huntin' for me." 
 
 " He was tryin' all he knowed how to raise 
 trouble yesterday," said Bill ; " but the b'ys wasn't 
 wid him. This very mornin', when I called in to 
 see how he was feelin' for work, there he laid in 
 his bed wid the covers drug up over his ugly face, 
 a-moanin' an' groanin' as how he wasn't fit to hit 
 a clip. Then we all o' us goes off to the choppin', 
 to cut timber for his riverence's blessed little church, 
 an' mugs-up in the woods widout comin' home, 
 an' when we gets back to the harbor, maybe a few 
 minutes afore sundown, little Patsy Burke gives us 
 the word as how Dick Lynch went off wid a gun, 
 swearin' by the whole assembly of heaven as how 
 he'd be blowin' yer heart out o' ye the minute he 
 clapped eye on ye. An' then, skipper dear, Pat Kav- 
 anagh's girl Mary comes a-runnin' wid word as 
 how Dick Lynch t'iefed a bottle o' rum from Pat 
 himself and was brow-sprit under wid the glory 
 of it an' fit to take a shot — except for the aim of 
 him — at Saint Peter himself. She telled as how 
 he'd shaped his course to the south'ard. with his 
 gun on his shoulder, swearin' he'd blow the head 
 
Dick Lynch Goes On the War-path 187 
 
 off ye or never come home to Chance Along no 
 more. So Nick an* me puts two an' two forninst 
 each other an' figgered as how Dick would have 
 ye if somethin' didn't happen to t'row out his 
 plans." 
 
 " Ye hain't got the right o' it there, Bill," said 
 Nick. " 'Twas Mary telled us to follow after Dick 
 Lynch. She'd gone herself, she said, but she'd 
 heard o' it no more'n a minute ago from Pat, her 
 bein' over to the skipper's house an' tryin' to cheer 
 up the lady what come off the wrack ! * Save the 
 skipper,' says Mary, the eyes o' her like lumps o' 
 ice on the coast in June. ' Save him from the drunk 
 dog wid the gun, even if it bes the death o' yer- 
 selves.' Aye, that bes what Mary Kavanagh said 
 to us — an' here we bes, skipper." 
 
 " Mary bes a good girl," said the skipper. Then 
 he laughed harshly and slapped Bill Brennen on the 
 back. 
 
 " Me brains bes still in me head an' me hands 
 on the ends o' me two arms," he exclaimed ; " but 
 what bes happenin' to Dick Lynch, I wonder? If 
 ever he comes back — but he'll not dare ! Aye, ye 
 kin lay to that. He'd as soon jump into hell wid 
 the divil as come back now to Chance Along. 
 
 S". 
 
188 
 
 The Harbor Master 
 
 Maybe he'll be losin' himself like Foxey Jack Quinn 
 went an'- done wid himself. Aye, lads, fools kin 
 tell as how me luck bes gone — but the saints them- 
 selves bes wid me, drivin' me enemies out o' Chance 
 Along widout me so much as havin' to kill one o' 
 them ! " 
 
 " Sure, skipper, it looks that way, an* no mis- 
 take," said Bill Brennen. " The saints be wid ye 
 for the kind heart ye has for helpless women an' 
 childer, an' for yer love o' Father McQueen, an* 
 fo** the work ye bes at to build the little church; 
 but most of all, skipper, for the kind heart o' ye 
 to every helpless woman an' child." 
 
 A scovvl, or was it a shadow, crossed Black Den- 
 nis Nolan's face at that. 
 
 " Sure, a kind heart bes a grand t'ing," he said, 
 — " and so bes sharp wits an' hard hands ! " 
 
 They turned and went down the path. Mother 
 Nolan met the skipper just inside the door, with 
 the big wooden spoon from the stew-pot dripping 
 in her hand. Her black eyes looked blacker and 
 keener than usual as they met those of her grand- 
 son. 
 
 " So here ye be, safe back from Witless Bay," 
 sue said. " Ye didn't waste a minute, Denny." 
 
Dick Lynch Goes On the War-path 189 
 
 " Sure I didn't/' returned the skipper, quickly. 
 " It beed fair weather an' fair goin' all the way 
 an' one little letter hain't much o' a pack to tote. 
 How be ye all, Granny? How bes the lass from 
 the wrack ? " 
 
 " Grand altogether," said the old woman, return- 
 ing to the stove and the pot of stew. 
 
 '* Aye," said young Cormick, " she was singin' 
 to-day fit to drag the heart o' ye out t'rough yer 
 ears. Sure, Denny, if ye heard a fairy singin' 
 'twould sound no grander ! " 
 
 *' Aye, like a fairy," agreed the old woman, wag- 
 ging her head. " I bain't wonderin' a mite at how 
 she brought the salt tears a-hoppin' out o' the eyes 
 o' the blessed Queen herself! An' she was that 
 happy, Denny, a-t'inkin' o' how her letter to up- 
 along was safe an' sure on its way, that didn't she 
 have Pat Kavanagh down wid his fiddle, an' atween 
 the two o' 'em they made the finest music was ever 
 heard on this coast. Her heart bes fair set on up- 
 along, Denny, an' on what she calls her career, 
 meanin' songs an' glory an' money an' her name 
 on the lips o' men." 
 
 The skipper was silent for a moment after that, 
 staring at the floor. He raised his eyes to the old 
 
190 
 
 The Harbor Master 
 
 woman and found that she was gazing at him 
 fixedly. 
 
 " Sure, an' why for not? " he said. " An' what 
 bes she doin' now? " 
 
 " Sleepin'," replied Mother Nolan. " Sleepin' 
 an' dreaniin' o' up-along an' all her grand 
 friends.' 
 
 A scowl darkened the skipper's eyes and brow, 
 but he had no remark to make on the matter of the 
 lady's dreams. He threw aside his outer coat, ate 
 his supper, smoked his pipe, and at last retired to 
 his bed. In the meantime, \ick Leary had taken 
 word to Pat and Mary Kavanagh that the skipper 
 was home in Chance Along, safe and sound, having 
 missed Dick Lynch by shaping his course westward 
 to spy out timber. Mary's face brightened at the 
 news. Pat glanced at her, then nodded his tangled 
 head toward Leary. 
 
 *' The skipper bes still alive an' the letter bes 
 gone on its way," he said. " So, come spring, they 
 be takin' that singin' lady wid the eyes o' magic 
 away from Chance Along. :\Iaybe they'll be comin' 
 for her widout waitin' for spring? She bes a won- 
 der at the singin', an' no mistake — the best I ever 
 hear in all me v'yages into foreign ports. An' the 
 
Dick Lynch Goes On the War-path 191 
 
 looks o' her! Holy saints, they hain't scarce 
 human ! " 
 
 Nick Leary grinned through his bondage. 
 
 " Aye, Pat, ye've got the discarnin* eye in yer 
 head — ye an* the skipper," he said. " However 
 the skipper kep' himself away from Chance Along 
 for t'ree entire days, wid herself a-singin' an' 
 a-flashin' her eyes right in his own house, bes a 
 puzzle to me. Aye, sure it do. for didn't I see her 
 put the spell o' women on to him the very first min- 
 ute i,he opened her eyes at him on the fore-top o' 
 the wrack." 
 
 " Leave the skipper be, Nick Leary," said Mary. 
 " Never half a word would ye be sayin' if he could 
 hear ye. Leave him an' his business be. He bes 
 a good friend to ye — aye, an' to every soul in the 
 harbor who don't cross him." 
 
 " Sure, Mary, I bain't meanin' naught." .re- 
 turned Nick. " Sure he bes a good friend to 
 me!" 
 
 Pat Kavanagh smiled and took up his fiddle and 
 his bow. His hands were still for a minute, and 
 then the instrument began to sigh and trill. The 
 sounds gathered in strengtli, soared high, then 
 thinned and sank to no more than the whisper of 
 
 *«?1!H!- 
 
192 
 
 The Harbor Master 
 
 a tune — and then Pat began to sing. This is part 
 of what he sang : — 
 
 " Come all ye hard" fishennen 
 An' harken to me song, 
 O' how the mermaid from the wrack 
 Come ashore in Chance Along. 
 
 " Her eyes was Uke the sea in June, 
 Her lips was like a rose, 
 Her voice was like a fairy bell 
 A-ringin' crost the snows. 
 
 " The Skipper he forgot the wrack, 
 Forgot the waves a-rollin', 
 For she had put the witchy spell 
 On Skipper Dennis Nolan. 
 
 ' Come all ye hardy fishermen 
 An' Ian, from this me song, 
 To turn yer eyes the other way 
 To the girls from up-along." 
 
 " Yer songs get more foolish every day, father 
 dear," said Mary. 
 
 " Siire. Pat. Mary bes right," said Leary. " Ye 
 sings as if the girls in Chance Along hadn't so much 
 
Dick Lynch Goes On the War-path 183 
 
 as one eye in the heads o the entire crew o' them. 
 Now I bes t'inkin' as how there bes a girl in this 
 
 harbor wid eyes an' lips " 
 
 " Sure, Nick, yer thoughts bes no better nor 
 father's songs," interrupted Mary. 
 
 
 y 
 
 ^msvamm 
 
CHAPTER XIII 
 
 BILL BRENNEN PREACHES LOYALTY 
 
 Black Dennis Nolan was permitted an inter- 
 view with Miss Flora Lockhart in the afternoon 
 following his return to Chance Along. The singer 
 was sitting up in a chair by the fire, wrapped about 
 in her own silk dressing-gown, which had been 
 brought ashore from the wreck, and in an eider- 
 down quilt. Her plentiful, soft, brown hair was 
 arranged in a manner new to Chance Along, and 
 stuck through with a wonderful comb of amber 
 shell and gold, and a pin with a jewelled hilt. The 
 ornaments for the hair had been supplied by Mother 
 Nolan, who had possessed them for the past thirty 
 years, hidden away in the bottom of a nunney-bag. 
 Her own son, the late skipper, had salvaged them 
 from a wreck. Flora had her own rings on her 
 tapering fingers. There was color in her flawless 
 cheeks, her wonderful eyes were bright and clear, 
 and her lips were red. She smiled at the skipper 
 when Mother Nolan ushered him into the room. 
 
 194 
 
Bill Brennen Preaches Loyalty W5 
 
 '* It was very, very kind of you to take my letter 
 all the way to the post-office with your own hand," 
 she said. Her bell-like voice was generous and sin- 
 cere. " I wish I could reward you for all you have 
 (lone fc me, Mr. Nolan. But how can I — except 
 in my heart? You are so rich and proud, 1 am 
 afraid to ofifer you money." Here there was a play- 
 ful note in her voice which the skipper detected. 
 So she was making fun of his wealth and his pride. 
 His dark face flushed with several disturbing emo- 
 tions. To be addressed by the title of " mister " 
 added to his discomfort. Ihere were no misters 
 in Chance Along — or anywhere on the coast, ex- 
 cept the Methodist preacher in Bay Bulls, away to 
 the north. He was skipper — or just Denny Nolan. 
 He was skipper of Chance Along — not a preacher 
 and not the mate of a foreign-going ship. 
 
 " Sure, it bain't no great trip to Witless Bay 
 an' back agin." he mumbled, staring at the girl 
 in the big chair. The light that entered the room 
 from the gray afternoon, by way of the small win- 
 dow, was more of a shadow than an illumination. 
 The red fire in the wide chimney warmed a little 
 of it, pain* d the low ceiling and touched the girl's 
 eves with a sunset tint. The skipper shuffled his 
 
196 
 
 The Harbor Master 
 
 feet on a rag mat and crumpled his cap between 
 his big hands. He felt like a slave — aye. and 
 something of a rogue — here in his own house. But 
 he tried to brace himself with the thought that he 
 was master of the situation. 
 
 " Please sit down and talk to me, Mr. Nolan," 
 said Flora. 
 
 The skipper glanced around the room. Mother 
 Nolan had gone, leaving the door ajar behind her. 
 A small wooden stool stood near the fire, directly 
 across it from Flora. The skip.-er advanced to the 
 stool and sat down, the thumping of his heart 
 sounding in his ears like the strokes of a sledge- 
 hammer on wood. For a moment the sight of his 
 strong eyes was veiled by a mist — by an inner 
 mist smoking up from the heat and ommotion of 
 his blood. When his sight cleared he saw the beau- 
 tiful young woman regarding him with a slight 
 smile on her red lips and in her wonderful eyes. 
 There was inquiry in the smile — yes, and pity and 
 amusement were in it, too. The young man felt 
 short of breath and at the same time a choking 
 sensation as of uncomfortable fulness of the lungs. 
 He stared across at her like one spellbound. The 
 girl's glance wavered, but her smile deepened. A 
 
Bill Brenncn Preaches Loyalty 197 
 
 brief note of laughter, like a chime of glass bells, 
 parted her lips. 
 
 " Dear me, you look very tragic," she said. 
 " You look as if you saw a ghost." 
 
 'T'he skipper started violently and turned his face 
 to the fire. He laughed huskily, then got to his 
 feet and looked down at her with the firelight red 
 as blood in his black eyes. Suddenly he groaned, 
 stooped and snatched up one of her white, bejew- 
 elled hands. He pressed it passionately to his lips, 
 crushing the delicate fingers with his. For a sec- 
 ond or two the singer was far too amazed and 
 horrified to speak or act; then, recovering sud- 
 denly, she wrenched her hand free and struck him 
 on the cheek. He flung his head back and stood 
 straight. A short, thin, red line showed beneath 
 his right eye where a diamond in one of her rings 
 had scratched the skin. 
 
 " How dare you? " she cried, her voice trembling 
 and her face colorless. " Go away ! You forget — 
 who I am! You are a cowaid! " 
 
 The skipper did not flinch, his eyes did not waver. 
 She was but a woman, after all, for all her talk 
 of queens and fame. He had kissed her hand — 
 and she had struck him. Well? He was rich. He 
 
108 
 
 The Harbor Master 
 
 would marry her ~ and she would soon learn to 
 1-ve him. He looked down at her with a smile 
 on h,s lips and the light of mastery i„ his black 
 eyes. 
 
 "Go away — you coward!" she cried. Then 
 she h,d her face in her hands and began to sob 
 Tears glinted between her fingers, beside the dia- 
 monds. At that moment Mother Nolan entered 
 and clutched her grandson by tlie elbow. 
 
 " Get out wid ye, ye great hulkin' fool ' " she 
 exclaimed. " Oh, I seed ye a-clawin' at her little 
 hand. An' now ye've set her to weepin', ye great 
 lump! Bain't there a drop o' wits in yer 
 head? Don't ye know yer place, Denny Nolan, 
 ye ignorant fisherman, a-pawin' at the likes o' 
 her?" 
 
 The skipper felt shame at sight of Flora's tears 
 and anger at his grandmother's humiliating words. 
 There was a bitter edge to her voice that was new 
 to him. and her lean oM fingers pinched into his 
 flesh like fingers of iron. 
 
 " Sure, I bes mad." he said. " 'Twas only a 
 trick, anyhow — an' I did no harm. There bain't 
 naught for ye to be cry in' about." 
 
 He strode from the room, with old Mother Nolan 
 
Bill Brennen Preaches Loyalty 199 
 
 sti'l clinging to his elbow. When tliey reached the 
 kit 'len she loosed her clutch on his elbow. 
 
 " Denny Nolan, ye bes a fool ! " she exclaimed. 
 " Saints presarve us, Denny, what would ye be 
 doin' wid a sprite the like o' her, wid a heart all 
 full entirely o' gold an' diamonds an' queens an* 
 kings ? — an' girls in this very harbor, ye great 
 ninney, wid red woman hearts in their breasts!" 
 
 The skipper stared at her for a second, mut- 
 tered an oath, crushed his fur cap on his head and 
 went out into the gray twilight, slamming the doo- 
 behind him. He blundered his way up the path 
 at the back of the harbor and held on, blindly, to 
 the westward. 
 
 " Sure, now she'll be frighted o' me all the time," 
 he muttered. " I was a fool to fright her so : 
 Maybe now she'll never be marryin' wid me at all. 
 The divil was into me ! Aye, the divil himself ! " 
 
 He came presently to a group cf his men working 
 in a belt of timber, and this encounter brought him 
 Dack to affairs of the common day. Grabbing an 
 d\e from young Peter Leary, he set to with a fury 
 of effort and unheeding skill that brought the slim 
 spruccj flapping to earth. Men had o jump to 
 save themselves from being crushed. The whi^i 
 
200 
 
 The Harbor Master 
 
 I 
 
 chips flew in the gray twilight; and Bill Brennen 
 wondered what imp's claw had marked the skipper 
 under the eyes and crisscrossed his temper. 
 
 The weather continued cold, cloudless and wind- 
 less throughout the next three days. During that 
 time the skipper made no effort to see Flora, but 
 was abroad from sun-up to sun-down with the men, 
 cutting out timber for the little church as if his 
 life depended on it. No sight or sound of Dick 
 Lynch came back to the harbor. This gave Bill 
 Brennen an argument in favor of loyalty to the 
 skipper. He preached it to the men. and it made 
 a great impression on their simple though danger- 
 ous natures. 
 
 " There was Foxey Jack Quinn," he said. " Jack 
 hated the skipper like we hates sea- water in our 
 rum. Didn't he try to kill him — t'row him over 
 the cliff — an' didn't the skipper put the comather 
 on to him? An' then he ups and busts into the 
 skipper's house, wid the intention o' t'iefing the 
 money — an' where bes Foxey Jack Quinn this 
 minute ? The saints only knows ! — or maybe the 
 divil could tell ye! An' there was Dick Lynch. 
 Dick ups an' crosses the skipper in the store, an' 
 gets his head broke. Nex', he raises a mutiny agin 
 
Bill Brennen Preaches Loyalty 201 
 
 the skipper an' slips his knife into a mate. Nex', 
 he fills himself up wid rum an' sets out wid his 
 swilin'-gun to blow the skippers head away! An' 
 where bes Dick Lynch this minute? Aye, where 
 bes he! Tell me that, if ye kin — I don't know, 
 an' ye don't know, an' the skipper himself don't 
 know. But the saints knows ! — or maybe it bes 
 the divil himself could tell ye! Anyhow, all the 
 luck o' this harbor bes wid the skipper an' wid 
 them as stands true wid him. Aye, ye kin lay to 
 that! His enemies blink out like a spark floatin' 
 up in the air. B'ys. stick wid the skipper! He 
 feeds ye like marchants. Already every man o' ye 
 has more gold stored away nor ye ever see afore 
 in all yer life, an' come spring the skipper'U be 
 freightin' yer jewels, an' the cargo out o' the last 
 wrack, north to St. John's, an' sellin' 'em for ye. 
 Would ye have salved 'em widout the skipper? No. 
 \\'ould ye be able for to freight 'em to St. John's 
 widout himself an' his fore-an'-after? No. An' 
 neither would ye be able to sell 'em even if ye could 
 freight 'em! Stand true to Black Dennis Nolan, 
 b'ys, an' ye'll all be fat an' rich as marchants. wid 
 never the need to wet a line at the fishin'." 
 
 Dick Lynch had gone away drunk; but not so 
 
202 
 
 The Harbor Master 
 
 drunk as to have forgotten to take food and a 
 blanket with him, and to stow away on his person 
 his share of the gold from the Durham Castle. 
 His inflamed mind must have held a doubt as to 
 the certainty of meeting and disposing of the skip- 
 per. 
 
 After the long spell of fine weather another 
 " flurry " swirled out of the west, and sent the 
 men of Chance Along into their cabins, to eat and 
 drink and spin yarns and keep the fires roaring in 
 the little, round stoves and blackened chimneys. 
 Throughout the first day of storm the skipper sat 
 by the stove in his kitchen, talking pleasantly enough 
 to Mother Nolan and Cormick, figuring on the 
 plans for the church -hich Father McQueen had 
 left with him, but with never a question about Flora 
 Lockhart. He was something of a dissembler, was 
 the skipper — when his blood was cool. Mother 
 Nolan spoke once of the girl, saying that the lone- 
 liness of Chance Along was eating her poor heart ; 
 but the skipper gave no heed to it. On the morn- 
 ing of the second day of the storm, after Mother 
 Nolan had carried tea, bacon and toast to the singer 
 and was eating her own breakfast with her grand- 
 sons, the inner door opened and Flora herself en- 
 
Bill Brennen Preaches Loyalty 203 
 
 tered the kitchen. The three looked up at her in 
 amazement. The skipper was the first to lower his 
 eyes. 
 
 " Good mornin' to ye," he said, and went on 
 with his breakfast. 
 
 " Oh, I am so dull and lonely," exclaimed the 
 girl. " This terrible storm frightens me. Why 
 must I stay in that dreary room all by my- 
 self?" 
 
 " Ye be welcome to the entire house, ye poor 
 dear," said Mother Nolan. " But has ye et yer 
 breakfast? " 
 
 " Not yet. The storm howled so in the chimney 
 that I was too frightened to eat. Mayn't I bring 
 it out here and eat it with you — and listen to vou 
 talking? " begged Flora. 
 
 " Sure ye kin. Set right down an' I'll fetch yer 
 tray," said Mother Nolan. 
 
 " Aye, that ye kin — an' welcome ye be as June," 
 said the skipper quietly. 
 
 The singer glanced at him shyly, uncertainly, 
 with a question in her beautiful eyes. 
 
 " You are very kind — you are all very kind," 
 she .«!aid. " T fear that T was very — rude to you, 
 Mr. Nolan. I — I struck you — but you were 
 
 «■■« 
 
204 
 
 The Harbor Master 
 
 rough 
 
 And I — called you names — which I did 
 not mean." 
 
 " Let it pass," said the skipper, gazing at the 
 bacon on his plate. " I bes rough, as ye say It 
 bes the way I was born an' bred. But I was 
 meanin' no disrespect to ye, as the holy saints be 
 me jedges. Si.re I — I couldn't help meself ! " 
 
 So it happened that Miss Flora Lockhart ate her 
 breakfast beside the kitchen stove with Mother 
 Nolan, the ikipper and young Cormick. The way 
 she ate was a wonder to watch, all so easy and quiet 
 and polite. Mother Nolan wagged her head over 
 it, as much as to say that such table manners would 
 bring no good to such a place as Chance Along, 
 and young Cormick could do nothing but stare at 
 the beautiful stranger. She talked brightly, with 
 the evident intention to please. Tt was her nature 
 to want to impress people favorably toward her — 
 and after all. she owed a great deal to these people 
 and, for a few weeks longer at least, was entirely 
 in their power. She saw that the skipper was a 
 strong man — a man to be feared — and that her 
 charms had ensnared his wild heart. Therefore she 
 must play the game artfully with him instead of 
 continuing the crude and honest method of slaps 
 
 L<4l 
 
Bill Brennen Preaches Loyalty 205 
 
 in the face. She believed that he would prove harm- 
 less and docile if skilfully handled, but as danger- 
 ous as a wounded animal if insulted and rebuffed. 
 
 After breakfast she asked for Pat Kavanagh. 
 She did not remember his name, but spoke of him 
 as the funny old fellow with the violin and the 
 wooden leg. 
 
 " If he were here we could have a fine concert," 
 she said, " and forget all about the terrible wind 
 and snow whirling around the house." Her laugh- 
 ing face was turned to the skipper. 
 
 " Sure then, Pat bes the lad we wants," said the 
 skipper, grinning like one entranced by a glimpse 
 of heaven itself. There was a golden vision in his 
 head, poor fool, of this beautiful creature sitting 
 beneath his roof for all time, her red lips and won- 
 derful eyes always laughing at him, her silvery 
 voice forever telling him to forget the storm out- 
 side. The future looked to him like a state of 
 bliss such as one sometimes half-sees, half- feels, in 
 dreams. 
 
 " I'll go fetch him an' his fiddle," he said, pulling 
 on his heavy jumper. 
 
 " Now don't ye be losin' yerself in the flurry," 
 continued Mother Nolan. 
 
206 
 
 The Harbor Master 
 
 '* It bes nought, Granny," returned the skipper. 
 " Sure I kin feel me way on me hands an' knees." 
 It took him fifteen minutes to find Pat Kava- 
 nagh's shanty and locate the door of it. so blinding 
 and choking was the storm. He pushed the door 
 open, stumbled into the warmth, and slammed the 
 timbers shut behind him. Mary was sewing beside 
 the stove, and Pat was mumbling over the first 
 verse of a new ' come-all-ye." They looked up at 
 the skipper in astonishment. 
 
 " What the divil bes troublin' ye, Denny Nolan, 
 to fetch ye out o' yer own house sich a day as 
 this?" demanded the ex-sailorman. "Bes there 
 anything the matter wid that grand young lady 
 from up-along? " 
 
 The skipper removed his cap and with it beat 
 the snow from his limbs and body. He breathed 
 heavily from his struggle with the storm. Mary 
 eyed him anxiously, her hands idle in her lap. 
 
 "I's come to fetch yer over to me own house 
 — ye an' yer fiddle," said Nolan. 
 
 "The divil ye has!" retorted Pat Kavanagh. 
 *' Saints presarve ye. lad, what kind o' rum has 
 ye bin a-drinkin' of this mornin' already?" 
 
 " Herself bes wantin' ye, Pat — ye an' yer fiddle, 
 
 % 
 
Bill Brennen Preaches Loyalty 207 
 
 for to have a concert vvid." said the skipper, with 
 childlike trust and delight in his voice. 
 
 " Skipper, dear, would ye be haulin' me an' me 
 wooden leg out into sich a desperate flurry as this 
 here?" inquired Pat, aghast. " Taints be good to 
 ye, skipper, but I'd die in me tracks ! " 
 
 Some of the foolish delight went out of Nolan's 
 face His lips closed and his black f^yes began to 
 glint like moonshine on new ice. 
 
 " It bain't no more nor a step or two," he said. 
 "If ye can't walk it yerself, Pat, — ye an' yer 
 wooden leg, — then I kin tote ye on me back." 
 
 " Sure ye kin go, father ; an' I'll be goin' along 
 wid the two o' ye," said Mary. " The poor lass 
 bes wantin' amusement, an' it be but right for us 
 all to give it her. Music an' a concert she bes 
 wantin* to keep up her poor little heart agin the 
 storm. Sure, an' why not? Did ye think for her 
 — a slip o" a grand concert-singer from up-along — 
 to have a heart for the wind an' snows o' Chance 
 Along?" 
 
 Pat grumbled. The skipper looked at Mary. 
 
 " There bain't nothin' wrong wid her heart," he 
 said. 
 
 " Sure there bain't," agreed Mary. " Her poor 
 
 i 
 
SOS 
 
 The Harbor Master 
 
 M 
 
 little heart bes jist sick to death o' Chance Alone 
 — an' what else would ye look for? Sprees an" 
 company she must be havin', day after day, an* 
 night after night, like what she has always had. 
 It bes our duty to amuse her, father, an' feed her 
 an' nurse her, till her grand folks up-along- takes 
 her away." 
 
 The skipper was not altogether satisfied with 
 Mary's words. They did not seem to voice his 
 own ideas on the subject at all, though they were 
 evidently intended to agree with his attitude toward 
 the singer. They had a back-snap to them that he 
 mistrusted. 
 
 Half an hour later all three were safe in the 
 skipper's kitchen, breathless and coated with snow. 
 Flora welcomed Mary with a kiss. 
 
 " What a beauty you are," she exclaimed. 
 
 Mary's rosy cheeks deepened in color at the 
 praise, and a shadow came out from the depths of 
 her gray eyes. Mother Nolan saw all this, though 
 she seemed to be very busy with getting poor Pat 
 and his wooden leg into a chair. 
 
 Well, a punch was brewed, and Pat played on 
 his fiddle, and Flora Lockhart sang as no one but 
 herself ever sang before on that coast — yes, or 
 
 ti 
 
Bill Brennen Preaches Loyalty 209 
 
 anywhere else in the whole island of Newfound- 
 land. The wonder of her singing even set young 
 Cormick's heart to aching with nameless and un- 
 dreamed of aches. As for the skipper, he looked 
 as if the fairies had caught him for sure! 
 
CHAPTER XIV 
 
 DICK LYNCH MEETS MR. DARLING 
 
 In Chance Along the wintry days and weeks 
 crawled by, with cold and thaw, wind, snow and 
 fog. Flora Lockhart waited in vain for a reply to 
 her letter. At last her suspicions were awakened 
 by a word from Mother Nolan; so she wrote an- 
 other letter and gave it to the old woman. The 
 old woman gave it to Mary Kavanagh, and Mary 
 in turn put it into the hands of one o^ *he young 
 men of tlie harbor, with instructions tu take it to 
 Witless Bay and from there send it out by mail. 
 The young man promised to do all this, of course. 
 
 " An' mind ye," cautioned Mary, " don't ye go 
 an' let the skipper know what ye bes up to." 
 
 Now this young man was one of the dozen who 
 wanted Mary Kavanagh for a wife. He was not 
 brave, ue was not hone.st; but he was as cunning 
 as '< fox. So he thought the matter over, and soon 
 came to the conclusion that the game was not worth 
 the candle. He was afraid of the skipper; and 
 
 210 
 
 jf W 1 
 
 >^T^^m 
 
DicK Lynch Meets Mr. D arling 211 
 
 he was content that the girl from up-along should 
 remain in the hnrhor and continue to blind the 
 skipper's heart to the charms of Mary Kavanagh. 
 So he went quietly to the master, put the letter in 
 his hands and told him what he knew of it. Dennis 
 Nolan destroyed the letter, and told the young man 
 to keep himself out of sight for the next three days. 
 The infatuated skipper had not yet given up hope 
 of winning the heart of the wonderful creature 
 from up-along. 
 
 Late in March a French brig, bound for St. 
 Pierre, went ashore on the Squid Rocks to the 
 north of Chance Along. Only two of her crew 
 reached the land-wash alive. They were powerful 
 fellows, swarthy as Arabs, with gold rings in their 
 ears, the devil in their hearts, and a smattering of 
 many languages on their tongues. The gale that 
 had driven the brig on the Squid Rocks had inter- 
 rupted them in the hatching of a mutiny against 
 their captain, mate and boatswain; for the brig's ' 
 cargo consisted of silks and wines fcr the smugglers 
 of St. Pierre, and two chests of gold containing the 
 half-year's pay of the Governor, officials, and sol- 
 diers of tKe little island. 
 Black Dennis Nolan and his men found them on 
 
212 
 
 The Harbor Master 
 
 the land-wash, more dead than alive, dragged them 
 back out of reach of the spray, and laid them on 
 blankets beside a fire. The brig was well in among 
 the rocks, going to pieces fast. After two hours 
 of daring effort the skipper and four of his men 
 reached her, "nd found the chests of French gold 
 in the lazaret beneath the captain's cabin. They 
 remained aboard the wreck for nearly an hour be- 
 fore venturing shoreward with the treasure. They 
 salvaged the chests at last, however, placed a guard 
 over them, and made one more trip to ihe brig and 
 back, bringing a bale or two of silk and a cask of 
 red wine the second time. Then the brig melted 
 and fell to pieces before their eyes. It was not until 
 then that any one noticed that the two swarthy sail 
 ors had recovered and departed, taking with them 
 the blankets and bottle of rum which had been em- 
 ployed in reviving them. The skipper swore might- 
 ily at this discovery, knocked a few of his men 
 about, then lad the chests of gold sto»ved on two 
 hand-sleds and set out for home in full force and 
 at top speed. On reaching Chance Along he learned 
 that the two swarthy strangers had already been 
 there, and departed with two sealing-guns and a 
 bag of food. The skipper sent Bill Brennen and 
 
 i^ 
 
Dick Lynch Meets Mr. Darling 218 
 
 six men on their tracks, for he did not want the 
 strangers to carry out to the world the news of 
 the wrec!. of the brig and the salving of the treas- 
 ure-chests. He did not follow them himself because 
 the chests had to be opened, and their contents 
 divided and hidden away immediately, and the 
 chests themselves destroyed. 
 
 The gold was divided into forty equal parts. 
 One part was given, or laid aside, for every man 
 who had been to the Squid Rocks; two parts went 
 to each of the men who had accompanied the skip- 
 per to the brig itself, and four were kept by the 
 skipper. There was no grumbling this time. The 
 harvest was rich beyond the wildest dream and had 
 been fairly shared. The money belonging to the 
 men who had gone after the two strangers was 
 placed in the hands of sons, wives or fathers. 
 
 " Hide it away, men," said the skipper, " for if 
 them two pirates gets clear away, they'll sure be 
 back some day wid a crew o' blackguards like them- 
 selves, to try to t'ief all our property away from 
 us." 
 
 Bill Brennen and his party returned before sun- 
 down, carrying a wounded comrade and a dead 
 Frenchman along with them. There had been an 
 
214 
 
 The Harbor Master 
 
 ambush and a fight, and one of the sailors had 
 escaped clean away. The skipper was in a rage; 
 but, as the faithful Bill Brennen had commanded 
 the party and Nick Leary had been a member of 
 it, he kept his hands and feet still and let nothing 
 fly but curses. 
 
 Now we must look around for Dick Lynch, who 
 did not go out of this history when he departed 
 so boldly from Chance Along with his sealing-gun 
 on his shoulder. Far from it. Dick was intended 
 for greater things than he knew. 
 
 A week after the wreck of the French brig on 
 the Squid Rocks, Dick Lynch entered a public- 
 house situated near the eastern end of Water Street, 
 St. John's, sat down at a table near the fire and 
 called for rum. Though Dick consumed much rum, 
 he did not often buy it at this establishment; for 
 he roomed in Mother McKay's cottage on the hill, 
 back of the city, and Mother McKay kept a shebeen. 
 To-day, however, Dick had felt that he could stand 
 no more of Mother McKay's liquor nor of the hon- 
 est dame's society, either. The rum was weak and 
 harsh and the society was distracting to his 
 thoughts. What he wanted was matured liquor 
 and quiet, so that he might nail down his somewhat 
 
 
Dick Lynch Meets Mr. Darling 215 
 
 vague plans of return" :cr to Chance Along and over- 
 throwing the ski, i.er thereof. The hour was that 
 of the evening cu..!.. He was alone in this par- 
 ticular room of th. Si.ip A'soy Hotel, but he could 
 hear the voices of other imbibers barking and roll- 
 mg from an adjoining apartment. He gulped down 
 half of his rum and lit his pipe. The proprietor 
 entered then, threw a lump of coal on the fire and 
 lit a ship's lantern that hung from the middle rafter. 
 Next moment, the outer door opened, and a man 
 entered from the muddy street, his sou'easter, oil- 
 skin coat and ruddy young face all agleam with 
 moistiire. 
 
 " Good evenin' to ye, Mister Darlin'," said the 
 proprietor. " Foul weather, hain't it. sir? " 
 
 "Aye, Jake, foul weather it is." returned the 
 young man, throwing aside his dripping hat. 
 " Bring me whiskey, — hot, with a slice of lemon 
 in it and a lump of sugar." 
 
 Jake departed, and Mr. Darling sat down beside 
 the fire and pulled a short wooden pipe from an 
 inner pocket. In repose, his young, clean-shaven 
 face wore an expression of gravity that verged 
 upon the dismal. He filled his pipe with cut to- 
 bacco from a leather bag, lit it and then glanced 
 
216 
 
 The Harbor Master 
 
 at Dick Lynch through a puff of twisting blue 
 smoke. He caught Dick's eyes full upon him, for 
 that worthy had been staring at him ever since he 
 had removed his dripping sou'easter. He removed 
 his pipe from his mouth and leaned forward. 
 
 " Hullo ! " he said. " I'll swear this isn't the 
 first time I've seen that black mug of yours, my 
 man ! But it wasn't in St. John's — an' it wasn't 
 aboard any ship." 
 
 Dick Lynch was of the same way of thinking, 
 for he recognized this young man as the officer 
 from the Durham Castle, who had commanded the 
 party that had been left behind by Captain McTa- 
 vish to guard the wreck of laat good ship. He 
 took another swig at his glass and shifted his eyes 
 
 to the fire. 
 
 " Sure, sir. ye may be right," he said. " Was 
 it in Harbor Grace ye seed me ? " 
 
 " No. I have never set foot in Harbor Grace," 
 returned Mr. Darling. 
 
 " That bes my home, sir — Harbor Grace," lied 
 Dick, cheerfully. 
 
 Just then Jake entered with Mr. Darling's toddy. 
 He set it at the young sailor's elbow, hoped it was 
 entirely to his taste, and retired. Darling sipped 
 
!f ■ 
 
 Dick Lynch Meets Mr. Darling 217 
 
 the toddy, puffed twice at his pipe, then fixed his 
 ke-^n glance upon L^ .i,,h's face. 
 
 " Don't lie to me," he said. " Your mug is too 
 ugly to forget easy! You are the big, cussing 
 pirate the savages gave the name of skipper to, 
 along on that devilish coast to the south where we 
 lost the Durham Castle. You are a sly fellow, and 
 a daring one; but it will not help you a mite to 
 sit there and talk about your happy home in Har- 
 bor Grace to me." 
 
 " The skipper ! " exclaimed Dick Lynch, in gen- 
 uine anger and dismay. " Saints presarve ye. I'd 
 as soon be took for the divil himself as for Black 
 Dennis Nolan .>' Chance Along. No. sir, I hain't 
 that tyrant, though some folks do say as how I 
 bes about his size and color." 
 
 " Is that so ? " enquired Mr. Darling, quietly. 
 •'You are not the skipper of Chance Along, but 
 you look like him. Is that the way of it? " 
 " Aye, that bes the way of it, sir." 
 "You know this skipper fellow, then?" 
 " Aye, sir, to me cost — may the divil fly away 
 wid him ! Hasn't he bullied me an' cheated me all 
 me life long, the divil-possessed tyrant! Bain't he 
 the livin' curse o' Chance Along ? " 
 
218 
 
 The Harbor Master 
 
 " Chance Along, is it?" murmured Mr. Darling. 
 " Now where the devil is Chance Along? " 
 
 Then, raising his voice, " You don't seem to love 
 this skipper fellow — this Black Dennis Nolan. 
 What is the trouble between the pair of you? " 
 
 Dick finished his rum, eyed the other suspiciously, 
 then stared sullenly at the fire. 
 
 Mr. Darling smiled grimly and shouted for Jake. 
 
 " Mv friend will have more ci the same," he 
 said, pointing to Lynch's empty glass. " But make 
 it hot, Jake. This is no kind of weather for cold 
 liquor. Better bring the bottle right along, and the 
 kettle and sugar too." 
 
 Twenty minutes later Dick Lynch began to talk 
 again, his belated caution entirely vaporized and 
 blown out of his somewhat inferior brain by the 
 fumes of hot rum, lemon and sugar. 
 
 " I knows ye, sir," he said. " Sure, didn't I know 
 ye the minute I clapped me two eyes on ye. Cap'n 
 o' that big ship that come ashore in Nolan's Cove, 
 t'ree miles to the south o' Chance Along, ye be. 
 An' a smart landin' ye made, too, boat by boat, wid 
 every mother's son o' ye wid a gun an' a sword in 
 his two hands. Sure, sir, ye wasn't lookin' for to 
 meet wid no man-killin' wrackers on that coast, was 
 
 HHI 
 
 ^m^r=^i^^psssmsam 
 
 wppi 
 
Dick Lynch Meets Mr. Darling 219 
 
 ye ? Saints forgive ye, sir, the babe unborn would 
 be safe to come ashore in Chance Along! " 
 
 John Darling smiled. " You are a sharp lad," 
 he said. " I saw it in your eyes that you knew me 
 the moment I entered the room. I don't see how 
 I ever came to mistake a smart, well-spoken lad 
 like you for that fellow you call the skipper. Well, 
 I am sorry for it. But you have made one mistake, 
 my lad. I wasn't the captain of that ship. I was 
 only one of the mates." 
 
 " Well, sir," returned Lynch, cordially, " I bain't 
 sharp enough for to see much difference atween a 
 cap'n an' a mate. Ye looks like a cap'n to me, 
 anyhow." 
 
 He paused, poured more rum and hot water, 
 sampled the brew and continued. 
 
 " Now I feels it a shame, sir, the way Black Den- 
 nis Nolan made a fool o' the lot o' ye, wid his lies 
 about Frenchman's Cove an' Nap Harbor. Sure, 
 I felt desperate bad about it at the time — an' now 
 I feels worse. Aye, sir, worse, seein' as how ye 
 be sich a fine, grand ginerous young gintleman as 
 ye be. An' then the way he ups an' takes all yer 
 gold an' fine jewels away from ye, an' ye t'inkin' 
 all the time 'twas the folk o' Nap Harbor done it ! " 
 
no 
 
 The Harbor Master 
 
 " Yes, it was certainly an unmannerly trick." 
 said Darling, quietly. " I suppose he took it all to 
 Chance Along — gold, jewels and everything — 
 and kept it for himself? " 
 
 " He kep' more nor his share o' the sovereigns, 
 ye kin lay to that, sir ; an' as for the rings an' sich 
 fancy trinkets — well, sir, he says as how we'll all 
 be gettin' our share come June an' he gets 'round 
 to St. John's here to sell 'em. But there hain't 
 no share for me, sir. I fit for me rights, I did — 
 an' here I be!" 
 
 The interview continued for another hour, and 
 during the glowing, rum-inspired course of it, Dick 
 Lynch told all that he knew of Chance Along, its 
 manners, its skipper and its exact location. He 
 confessed that he had never seen a great diamond 
 and ruby utcklace, but that he had seen a whole 
 casket full of jewels and was willing to swear by 
 all the saints aloft that the casket was still in Chance 
 Along. He did not notice that Mr. Darling was 
 spending all his time over one small glass of whis- 
 key toddy. Finding the young officer a good lis- 
 tener and an agreeable companion, he went on to 
 tell of the wreck of the Royal IVil am, of the panic 
 in the flooded cabin, and at last of the beautiful 
 
 3-i-S^ 
 
 
Dick Lynch Meets Mr. Darling 221 
 
 young woman with the voice Uke fairy bells and 
 eyes like a mermaid's eyes. 
 
 Mr. Darling sat up at that and laid his pipe on 
 the table. 
 
 "A full-rigged ship, you say? What was her 
 -lame? " he asked, anxiously. 
 
 "The name o' the ship? Well, sir, far°s I kin 
 remember it was the Rile Willyum. Aye, sir, that 
 was it." 
 
 Mr. Darling got excited. His face went dead 
 white, then flaming red, and he leaned forward and 
 gripped the fingers of his right hand in Lyncb's 
 shoulder. But Dick was too mellow and happy to 
 object or to feel surprise. 
 
 "And what was the lady's name?" cried Mr. 
 Darling. " Out with it, man ! Out with it ! What 
 was her name ? " 
 
 " Name o' the lady ? Lady's name? Her name? 
 Sure, sir, it bes Nora." 
 
 " Nora ! Don't you mean Flora ? " 
 
 "Aye, Flora. Sure, sir. Flora bes what I 
 said." 
 
 "God!" exclaimed Mr. Darling, leaning back 
 in his chair. Dick Lynch smiled across at him. 
 He recovered himself in a minute. 
 
 ■ it . t-^i 
 
222 
 
 The Harbor Master 
 
 "With a beautiful voice, you say?" he queried 
 faintly. 
 
 " Aye, sir. Sure, didn't she sing a song afore 
 the Queen herself," returned Dick. 
 
 "It is Flora!" cried the other. "My God, it 
 is Flora ! " Then gripping Lynch again, " Did you 
 say — did you say she — she is — well ? " he whis- 
 pered. 
 
 " Sure, I telled ye she bes well," rei Ted the be- 
 fuddled fisherman. "Well, d'ye say? Aye, she bes 
 plump as a pa'tridge, a-livin' on the fat o' the land 
 — the fat o' all the wracks that comes up from the 
 sea. An' a beauty she bes, altogether. Saints pre- 
 sarve ye, sir, she bes the beautifulest female woman 
 ever come ashore on that coast. She was desperate 
 bad wid the fever, was Nora, when first the skipper 
 took her home wid him; but now she bes plump 
 as a young swile, sir, an' too beautiful entirely for 
 the likes c' meself to look at." 
 
 Mr. Darling's face went white again. 
 
 " The skipper? " he asked, huskily. " For God's 
 sake, man, what are you saying? Why does she 
 stay in Chance Along? What has she to do with 
 that damned big black beast you call the skipper? " 
 
 "Now you bes a-gettin' ex ited, sir, all along 
 
Dick Lynch Meets Mr. Darling 223 
 
 o' that Nora gir^," protested Dick Lynch. " She 
 bes a-livin' vvid Mother Nolan, in the skipper's own 
 house. The skipper bes figgerin' on coaxin' of her 
 'round to marry wid him ; but I hears, sir, as how 
 she telled him as how she'd marry no poor, igno- 
 rant, dacent fisherman at all, but a king wid a 
 golden crown on his head. Aye, sir, that bes the 
 trut'. The likes o' she be well able to keep Black 
 Denny Nolan in his place." 
 
 " Thank God ! " exclaimed Mr. Darling, sitting 
 back in his chair again. 
 
 Dick Lynch eyed him with drunken cunning. 
 
 "Ye knows that grand young woman, sir?" he 
 queried. 
 
 " Yes," said Mr. Darling. " She crossed to Lon- 
 don aboard my ship three years ago. We — we 
 were good friends." 
 
 " Aye, ye woulil be," returned Dick with a 
 drunken leer. And then, lurching forward, " Ye'll 
 be makin' a trip 'round to Chance Along I bes 
 t'inkin', sir, to put the comather on to this Dennis 
 Nolan? Sure, an' why not? The dirty squid bes 
 as full o' gold an' riches as any marchant. I'll be 
 goin' along wid ye, sir — if ye gives me two pistols 
 an' takes two yerself. I'll show ye where the har- 
 
224 
 
 The Harbor Master 
 
 bor bes, an' his own house vvid Nora in it — an' 
 all. If we gets to the harbor quiet, about the middle 
 o' the night, we'll shoot the skipper in his bed, the 
 black divil, afore he kin so much as lay a curse 
 on to us. I bes wid ye, sir. Ye kin trust Dick 
 Lynch as ye would yer own mother." 
 
 Mr. Darling said that he had a great deal of 
 business to attend to in the city, but that he would 
 meet Dick Lynch in this very room, at nine o'clock 
 in the morning, five days later. He did not mean 
 a word of it, for he would not have trusted that 
 worthy any farther n he could have thrown him 
 over his shoulder, but he arranged the meeting 
 and promised to supply plenty of pistols for the 
 expedition. Then he said good night and went out 
 of the warm room and fumes of rum to the mud 
 and driving sleet of the night, leaving Dick Lynch 
 smiling to himself at thought of what his enemy, 
 the skipper, would say when he woke up in bed 
 some, fine morning and found himself dead. 
 
 -.-'.^i-jm 
 
CHAPTER XV 
 
 MR. DARLING SETS OUT ON A JOURNEY 
 
 This John Darling was no ordinary shell-back. 
 His father was an English parson, his uncle a 
 Fellow of Wadham College, Oxford, and his eldest 
 brother a commander in the Royal Navy. John 
 was poor in worldly gear, however, and had re- 
 cently been third officer of the Durltam Castle. 
 Now be was without a berth, and was making a 
 bid for fortune of an unusual and adventurous 
 kind. In London, Sir Ralph Harwood had made 
 him a private offer of one thousand pounds for the 
 recovery of the necklace of diamonds and rubies. 
 Darling had landed in St. John's, on his quest, 
 about six days before his meeting with Dick Lynch. 
 Upon landing he had learned at the Merchants' 
 Club that the Royal WUliaiu, bound for New York 
 from London, was reported lost. She had foun- 
 dered in mid-ocean or had been shattered upon 
 some desolate coast. The underwriters had paid 
 up like men — and both the American and English 
 
 226 
 
r" 
 
 2S6 
 
 The Harbor Master 
 
 press had lamented the tragic fate of Miss Flora 
 Lockhart, the young New York singer, who had so 
 lately won fame in London. 
 
 Darling had taken the news of Flora's terrible 
 fate keenly to heart. He had crossed the ocean 
 with her three years before; and she had haunted 
 his dreams, waking and sleeping, ever since. 
 Though he had always felt tliat his devotion was 
 hopeless, it was no less real for that. And now, 
 from a drunken fisherman, he had learned that she 
 was alive, in good health, and a captive! 
 
 Mr. Darling went straight to his own hotel from 
 the Ship Ahoy. He cleaned his pistols, made a 
 rough map of the east coast, south of Witless Bay, 
 from the information obtained from Dick Lynch, 
 packed a couple of saddle-bags, rolled up a pair 
 of blankets and sent for the landlord. From the 
 landlo-1 he obtained change for two five-pound 
 Bank . x England notes, information concerning the 
 road from St. John's to the head of Witless Bay, 
 and hired a horse. 
 
 Mr. Darling set out on his adventurous journey 
 after an early breakfast eaten by candle-light. 
 He felt courageous, invincible. He would rescue 
 the lady of his long sea-dreams from that black- 
 
^^^-<^ 
 
 Mr. Darling Sets O ut On a Journey 227 
 
 faced, black-hearted pirate who was called the skip- 
 per of Chance Along. In the flush of this deter- 
 mination the necklace was forgotten. So confident 
 was he of success, and so intent upon picturing the 
 rescue of that beautiful creature who had bewitched 
 him three long, varied sailor-years ago, that he had 
 covered several miles of his journey before noticing 
 the stumblings and gruntings of the ill-conditioned 
 beast between hi; knees. He departed from the 
 city by way of a road leading westwa a ' m the 
 head of the harbor. This he followed for three 
 miles, through slush and half-frozen mud, then 
 turned to the left. He forced his horse into a trot. 
 It pecked badiy, and he shot over its bowed head 
 and landed in a mud-hole. Scrambling to his feet 
 he noticed for the first tune the gaunt ribs, heaving 
 flanks and swollen legs of his steed. He swore 
 heartily, seized the bridle and dragged the horse 
 forward. The road was indescribable. Mud, slush 
 and icy water took him to the knee at every step; 
 but he plugged manfully forward, dragging the 
 protesting horse after him. So for an hour, across 
 the barren rise of land to the southward, after which 
 he remounted and rode at the best speed he could 
 command until the horse stumbled again and again 
 
 %k^ 
 
S28 
 
 The Harbor Master 
 
 unseated him. Undaunted, Mr. Darling took his 
 turn on foot again, dragging the puffing beast along 
 at his muddy heels. The way was nothing but a 
 muddy track across a desolate barren. It curved 
 steadily to the left and at last brought him in sight 
 of the irregular coast and the gray sea. By noon 
 he had reached a miserable, dirty shebeen; and 
 here he dried himself, sheltered and fed his horse 
 and ate from his own provisions. He rested there 
 for two hours ( for his horse's sake rather than his 
 own), and then mounted, threw a couple of shil- 
 lings to the keeper of the house and continued on 
 his way. He studied the coast-line intently a le 
 floundered along. He saw that most of tie shore 
 ice had melted or broken away from the la.id-wash. 
 Plans for the rescue of Flora Lockhart were taking 
 shape in his mind. Beyond a doubt the rescue 
 would have to be made by water ; and so he studied 
 every sheltered haven and surf-footed cape as he 
 worked his heroic way southward, now plunging 
 in his precarious saddle, now plunging with his 
 own legs in the mire. 
 
 The figure of another wayfarer came in sight 
 early in the afternoon. The stranger was on foot. 
 He wore a red blanket round his shoulders and 
 
Mr. Darling Sets Out On a Journey 229 
 
 carried a long gun of ancient pattern. He was a 
 big fellow with a swarthy face and bad eyes, and 
 his ears were adorned with gold rings. Mr. Dar- 
 ling did not relish the fellow's looks, and so passed 
 him without halting, alert, with his right hand on 
 the butt of a pistol in his pocket. This picturesque 
 ruffian was heading northward. After passing Mr. 
 Darling he turned and glanced back several times, 
 his interest doubtless attracted by the respectability 
 of the other's appearance and the bulging saddle- 
 bags. But he did not stop. Neither did he return. 
 The young man with the old horse looked to him 
 like a fighter — and even if the saddle-bags were 
 stuflFed with gold they would prove but a flea bite 
 to the stake which he had in mind. 
 
 Mr. Darling and his encumbering steed reached 
 Raggedy Cove about an hour after sunset. Mr. 
 Darling was in good heart and, thanks to fine lungs 
 and muscles, and a flawless constitution, was as fit 
 in body as spirit. He found a bed for himself and 
 a stable for the horse, and an old man full of in- 
 formation concerning the quickest and easiest way 
 to get to Witless Bay. This was by water, said the 
 old man. His own son George was going south 
 along the coast next morning, in a bully. So Dar- 
 
230 
 
 The Harbor Master 
 
 ling boarded the bully next morning, leaving his 
 'horse with the old man, George, the navigator of 
 the bully, was an inquisitive young man; but his 
 eyes were steady and his face honest. In spite of 
 hif prying questions, he won Mr. Darling's good- 
 will by the way he handled his boat. Of all 
 branches of human skill, that of seamanship ap- 
 pealed most strongly to John Darling's heart and 
 head. He respected a smart sailor just as intensely 
 as he despised a bungling one. He was an un- 
 usually fine sailor himself, and could handle any 
 vessel, large or small, as e?isily as he could navigate 
 it. So he answered a few of the fisherman's ques- 
 tions good-naturedly, and asked a great many in 
 return. George Wick had heard of Chance Along, 
 but had never been there. And why should he 
 have been there? Nobody ever went to Chance 
 Along. Yes, he had once seen Black Dennis Nolan. 
 
 " 'Twas back in September, sir," he said. " Sure, 
 didn't he put into Raggedy Cove one night — him 
 an' his fore-an'-after — bound from St. John's, wid 
 a freight o' grub an' gear. But what business 
 would ye be havin' wid the likes o' him, sir?" 
 
 Darling ignored the question and asked another. 
 No, George Wick was not familiar with the coast 
 
Mr. Darling Sets Out On a Journey 231 
 
 south of Witless Bay; but he had always heard 
 that it was a desperate bad coast. 
 
 " What is your business in Witless Bay? " asked 
 DarHng. 
 
 The young fisherman pointed to four boxes of 
 plug tobacco in the bottom of the bully. 
 
 "They bes for Skipper Walsh," he said. "I 
 trades 'em for fish, an' then I heads back for Rag- 
 gedy Cove." 
 
 "If you will sail me right around to Chance 
 Along I will pay you well for it," said Darling. 
 " My business in Chance Along is important — 
 yes, very important. It would be worth five sover- 
 eigns to you, my man — that little trip." 
 
 George Wick looked interested, but shook his 
 head. 
 
 " Tt bes a bad coast, sir," he said, " an' clean 
 1'.' .">wnst to me. An' now it would be desper- 
 i v, what wid the ice a-chokin' all the little 
 
 c>- Co SO ye couldn't run in from a squall o' wind, 
 sir." 
 
 " The shore-ice is gone, as you can see for your- 
 self, and the drift-ice will not be down this way 
 until near June," replied Darling. "But don't 
 make any more excuses, George. You are not the 
 
232 
 
 The Harbor Master 
 
 man I want, anyway, for I see that you are no 
 good for anything but asking questions. I'll be able 
 to find some lad in Witless Bay, with a boat of 
 some sort, who isn't afraid of the coast to the 
 southward." 
 
 George Wick sulked for a few minutes, then 
 asked, " What bes yer business wid Black Dennis 
 Nolan, anyhow, sir? Bes ye a constable, sir, or 
 anything like that? " 
 
 " My business is of a private nature," replied 
 Mr Darling. " I am a sailor, not a constable — 
 an officer of the Merchant Marine." 
 
 " Aye, sir, I knowed ye for a sailor," said the 
 other; "but there was a crew of constables along 
 this way back in November, rigged out like fisher- 
 men an' swearin' as how they tvas fishermen. They 
 went south; an' they soon come back wid empty 
 hands. We was all t'inkin' in Raggedy Cove as 
 how some vessel had maybe bin jroke up afore it 
 was deserted by the crew, as is the custom wid some 
 folks in scrnie harbors. An' when I see ye wid 
 business in Chance Along, sir — well, Black Dennis 
 Nolan do surely look to me like a man who'd be 
 breakin' into a ship widout waitin' for her crew to 
 •desart her." 
 
 i'k?rc^?^Wf;- 
 
Mr. Darling Sets Out O n a Journey 233 
 
 Mr. Darling smiled. " You are a smart man, 
 George Wick," he said. 
 
 The bull> ounded into Witless Bay and worked 
 up to the settlement at the head of it without acci- 
 dent. Wick handed over his tobacco to Skipper 
 Walsh ; and then, with an eye on Mr. Darling, said 
 he would call in a few days later for his trade of 
 fish. DarMng nodded, and purchased tea, hard- 
 bread and bacon from the skipper. Later, he and 
 George filled a small keg with water and put it 
 aboard, and bought two sealing-g^ns and a supply 
 of powder and slugs. They headed down the bay 
 at the first gray wash of dawn. After three hours 
 of hauling across the wind they rounded the south- 
 ern headland of the bay. Ihey made an easting of 
 more than a mile before heading due south. Mr. 
 Darling took the tiller now, and George manned 
 the sheet. Darling produced a pair of marine 
 glasses and the chart which he had made from in- 
 formation received from Dick Lynch. They skirted 
 a lee-shore and had to beat up to windward again 
 and again to clear themselves. Before sunset thev 
 ran into a tiny, sheltered cove and made camp. 
 
 It was shortly after noon of the next day that 
 Mr. Darling, diligently .scru inizing the shore 
 
 
234 
 
 The Harbor Master 
 
 through his glasses, saw something that caught 
 his attention. He edged the bully in and looked 
 again. 
 
 "By heaven, it is a man's leg!" he exclaimed. 
 He passed the glasses forward to Wick and 
 pointed the direction. 
 
 "Sure," said Wick. "Sure, sir, it bes some 
 poor divil wid a skinnywopper on his leg — so it 
 bain't nobody from a wrack, ye kin lay to that." 
 
 They ran the bully shoreward and lowered the 
 sail. Darling sprang to the land-wash and found 
 the battered body of a man wedged tight between 
 two icy rocks at the foot of the cliff. It was frozen 
 stiff; but it was evident that it had not always 
 been frozen. The crabs had found it, and even the 
 heavy clothing was torn to strips. Mr. Darling 
 stooped and took a little, red-bound casket from 
 the torn breast. With his back to George Wick he 
 opened it with trembling fingers. The diamonds 
 and rubies of Lady Harwood's necklace flashed up 
 at him! 
 
 ^i^::M. ^r 
 
 
CHAPTER XVI 
 
 MR. DARLING ARRIVE? in CHANCE ALONG 
 
 Mr. John Darling stood spellbound for a full 
 half-minute, gazing down at the flaming, flashing 
 gems coiled in their silken bed. He was aroused 
 from his wonder and wild conjecture by the voice 
 of George Wick. 
 
 "What bes the trouble, sir?" called the fisher- 
 rran, who was busy fending the bully off the rocks 
 " Who bes it, anyhow? It bain't no friend o' yer- 
 self, sir. surely?" 
 
 Darling shut the casket and slipped it into an 
 inner breast-pocket of his reefer. He turned 
 slowly toward the sea and the boat, with a studied 
 expression of puzzled pity on his face. 
 
 "Some poor fellow who has stepped off the 
 chff," he said. " I never saw him before — but the 
 sight of him shook me a bit. He has been here 
 quite awhile, I should say -yes. through thaw 
 and frost, frost and thaw. Aye, and the crabs 
 have been at him. poor devil ! I suppose we should 
 
 235 
 
236 
 
 The Harbor Master 
 
 bury him; but there is no place here to dig a 
 grave." 
 
 "Come aboard, sir! Come aboard wid ye!" 
 exclaimed Wick, in a trembling voice. " It bain't 
 no aflfair of our'n, sir — an' there bes the divil's 
 own luck in finding a dead man unexpected." 
 
 Mr. Darling crossed the land-wash without an- 
 other word; waded knee-deep into the tide, and 
 climbed aboard the boat. George Wick poled the 
 bully clear of the surf with one of the oars, then 
 jumped forward and hoisted the red sail. Darling 
 drew his chart from his pocket, examined it, then 
 raised his glasses and studied the coast-line to the 
 southward. The wind was light, but dead on shore. 
 The bully hauled across it cleverly. A whitish gray 
 haze stood along the sky-line to the east. 
 
 " We'll be havin' thick weather afore sundown, 
 sir, wid this wind holdin'," said Wick. 
 
 Darling nodded. " We must be getting pretty 
 close to Chance Along," he said. " Yes. there is 
 smoke. Can you see it? " 
 
 George could not make it out with his unassisted 
 eyes, but through the glasses he saw the blue reek 
 of wood-smoke above a. distant point of the coast 
 easily enough. An hour later the bully threaded 
 
Mr. Darling Arrives in Cha nce Along 237 
 
 the rocks off Squid Beach. Dick Lynch had spoken 
 
 of these rocks when the rum was warm in his head, 
 
 in the tap-room of the 6hip Ahoy, and Darling had 
 
 marked them on his chart. 
 
 " We are within two miles of it," said Darling, 
 
 his voice husky with emotion at thought of Flora 
 
 Lockhart. 
 George Wick turned his face toward the east and 
 
 the white wall of fog that now rolled upon the gray 
 
 water within a mile of the coast. 
 "Aye, sir; but we'll not be makin' it afore the 
 
 fog catches us," he replied. 
 " That will not bother my plans," said Darling. 
 
 "I don't intend to sail right into Chance Along, 
 
 anyway. I want to pay a surprise visit. We'll find 
 a bit of a cove along here somewhere, I think." 
 
 He was right. About a mile and a half beyond 
 the Squid Rocks they found a little sheltered cove 
 that was no more than a pocket in the cliff. The 
 beach was narrow, and a glance disclosed the fact 
 that at every full tide it was entirely submerged; 
 but a " drook " or a narrow cleft, thickly grown 
 with hardy bushes, led up from the land-wash to the 
 barrens above. They lowered the sail and nosed 
 their way into the cove. The streaming skirmishers 
 
238 
 
 g38 The Harbor M;.ster 
 
 of the fog were over them by this time They 
 beached the bully at the foot of the drook and made 
 her fast. 
 
 " Keep everything aboard, and make yourself 
 snug," said Mr. Darling. " Watch the tide. Haul 
 in and back off with it; and. whatever you do lie 
 low and keep quiet. I am going to take a look at 
 Chance Along -on the sly, you understand. 
 You 11 know all about it later. Don't worry if I 
 don't get back within the next two or three hours." 
 
 " Ye bes after Black Dennis Nolan, sir." said 
 Wick. 
 
 Mr. Darling nodded, placed two loaded pistols 
 in his pocket and vanished up the tangled slope of 
 the drook. Wick listened to the upward scram- 
 bhng until it suddenly died away and fog and 
 silence covered him deep like a flood. Then he 
 filled and lit his pipe and sat down in the shelter 
 of a tarpaulin to think it over. He sensed danger 
 m the blind choking air. He felt anxiety for his 
 companion and fear for himself; but curiosity and 
 a natural courage fortified him to a certain degree 
 Upon reaching the level of the barrens. Mr 
 Darling stood motionless for a little while and 
 listened intently to the vague, fog-muffled breath- 
 
Mr. Darling Arrives in Chance Along 239 
 
 ing of the sea below him. He could hear nothing 
 else. Turning to the south he moved silently for- 
 ward along a well-worn path that traced the edge 
 of the cliff. The fog was dense, and there was just 
 enough wind to keep it drifting in from the sea. 
 Darling held a boat-hook in his right hand and kept 
 his eyes and ears alert. He heard a dog bark 
 somewhere in front of him in the whitish-gray ob- 
 scurity. Presently he came to where the path 
 kinked and sloped down among a jumble of rocks, 
 and at the same moment he caught the pungent, 
 comforting smell of wood-smoke on the fog. Then 
 he knew that Chance Along- the roof which shel- 
 tered Flora Lockhart-lay hidden and dripping 
 beneath him. He was about to commence a cau- 
 tious descent of the path, when a clamor of voices 
 drifted up to him. He halted; and as the voices 
 approached, together with the shuffle of climbing 
 feet and the creak and clatter of shouldered boat- 
 gear, he stepped aside. F- iw the yellow blur of 
 a lantern and immediately took up a position behind 
 a great boulder. Bulky forms loomed into view 
 at the top of the slope, broke from the blanketing 
 fog for a moment, one by cne, and plunged into 
 "t again, heading southward along the path. The 
 
mLJt 
 
 240 
 
 Tht Harbor Master 
 
 big fellow in the lead carried the lantern, and the 
 man at his elbc " wa talking excitedly as they 
 passed within an ...r's \ngth of Darling. 
 
 " I's bin wat lii.i h. ' these five hours back, 
 skipper, a-tryin' •> be^t . nt o' the drift o' wind 
 an' tide widout one c nt r mast i standin'," he said. 
 " She wasn't a h; !t-mile off the rocks when I leit 
 the cove, an' a-firin' of her '^-m desperate. If she 
 hain't stuck tig^ht now, skipper, then me name baint 
 Tim Leary," 
 
 Mr. Darling stared and listened, as motionless 
 as the boulder against which he leaned. They 
 issued from the log and were ensfulfed ag xu. in its 
 clit-ging folds — twenty-five or thr^y men and lads 
 in all. Some carried coil<; of rope, ithers oars and 
 boat-hooks. Several of them haiiled empty a^dges 
 at their heel^ The back of the last man vanished 
 in th,« fog; but Mr. Darling remained in the shelter 
 of the rock until the faintest whisper of their voices 
 had died away before moving hand or foot. 
 
 "Organized wreckers." he muttered. "And 
 that big pirate with the lantern was the skipper — 
 the brute who is keef ng Flora in this place! By 
 God — I wonder just how much of a niin, and how 
 much of a beast he is! But now is m im^ while 
 
^^^' P^*"' "^-g Arrives in Chance Along 241 
 
 they're all off waitmL fo: :v ,ther wreck to come 
 ashore to them — uamn them! The harb .r must 
 be about empty of able-b(xl -d len just i v." 
 
 He descended the twistinj, parS cai"ioiisly. The 
 ^mp!l ca?„ns r the hernv n j-esendy loomed 
 around hin., h. re a gra gz\ th^rp dull win- 
 dow , ?here an ui .ainteu do( nd >w h-: n a 
 roof or two pus ng up th. v. f, , ^ 
 lower trrra ■ ,.f th*; villa ^ H- ^^^ ed hi^ ay 
 about, r usmj, fr. quent o ; r and hearken. 
 From 01 'abi o • ,ound of a child crying 
 ng !v. from another arsh coughing of some 
 
 om still another the whi- 
 ed to the left, feeling his 
 e 'umble dwellings. A 
 lighted window ( iught his ctention. and then a 
 man'- voice, with a limsica! drawl and twang to 
 it raJSf-d in song. 
 
 H. yes Were like the sea in June, 
 Her iips was like a rose, 
 riervr »wa like a fairy bell 
 A-ri; ^i cr ! the snows. 
 Then D . he forgot the wrack, 
 Forgot the waves a-roHin', 
 For she had put the witchy spell 
 On Skipper Dennis Nolan," 
 
 very (Id pers. n, and 
 ning . t a d ^. He r 
 \vay 5:iT)irerl_, be'wt 
 
 k 
 
 i 
 
242 
 
 The Harbor Master 
 
 sang the voice behind the blurred yellow square of 
 the window. 
 
 Darling approached the window on tip-toe and 
 peered through the dripping glass. He saw that 
 the vocalist was a long, thin fellow, with long, thin 
 whiskers and a wooden leg, seated in a chair by a 
 glowing stove. Two candles in tarnished brass 
 sticks, a fiddle and bow, and a glass half full of red 
 liquor that steamed, were on the corner of the deal 
 table at his elbow. Beside him stood a young 
 woman, long limbed, deep breasted, with a comely 
 face that suggested cheeriness, but was now drawn 
 and shadowed a little round the mouth and eyes 
 with an expression of care. But it was a good 
 face, trustworthy, kind and wise; and the man at 
 the window trusted it the moment he saw it. 
 
 " I'll risk it." he muttered. " The old man looks 
 harmless enough -and I mi-ht stumble around 
 here until the fog lifts or the skipper gets back, 
 without so much as a word with Flora, at this rate."' 
 He withdrew from the v/mAmv and slid quietly 
 along the wall of the cabin until he found the door. 
 He pulled the glove from his right hand and rapped 
 on the wet planks with his bare knuckles. The 
 voice of the man with the wooden leg stopped dead 
 
■Ba 
 
 Mr. Darling Arrives in Chance A long 243 
 
 in the middle of a line and shouted, " Come in." 
 Darling lifted the latch, pushed the door half open, 
 and stepped swiftly into the lighted room, closing 
 the door smartly behind him. The man and the 
 girl stared at him in astonishment. He removed 
 his dripping cap from his head. 
 
 " Can you tell me where I can find Miss Flora 
 Lockhart?" he asked. 
 
 The man gasped at hat, and the girl's gray eyes 
 brightened. The girl stepped f rvvard, placed a 
 strong, eager hand on his arm and gazed into his 
 face without apology or embarrassment. Darling 
 returned tlie scrutiny unabashed. 
 
 "Ye be from up-along?" she queried. "Ye 
 be a friend o' Flora's ? " 
 
 "Yes," replied Darling. "I have heard that 
 she is in this harbor — and that no word of her 
 being here, or even of her being alive, has been 
 sent out. Her friends believe her to be dead. And 
 I heard that the man you call skipper is — is keep- 
 ing her against her will. Of course, against her 
 will ! I have come to take her away — back to the 
 world in which she belongs." 
 
 " Be ye alone, sir? " asked Pat Kavanagh, comb- 
 ing his beard with his long, lean fingers. 
 
 I 
 
r- 
 
 244 
 
 The Harbor Master 
 
 Darling frowned. " That's as may be." he said 
 " Alone or not, I'm no such fool as to tell it until 
 I know how I stand with you; but I am armed, 
 you may be sure!" 
 
 "Lad," said Pat, "I sees as how ye bes young, 
 an' a sailor - aye, an' bewitched, too. Sure, I was 
 a sailor meself, in the old days. I likes the cut o' 
 yer fore-sils, lad, an' the lines o' yer hull, so I tells 
 ye, man to man like, watch out for the skipper. 
 Aye, armed or empty-handed, alone or wid a crew 
 at yer back, watch out for Black Dennis Nolan. He 
 bes a grand lad in his own way, an' ginerous an' 
 fair wid bis friends - but Saint Peter help the man 
 '.vho hauls acrost his bows ! If ye've come to Chance 
 Along to take the girl away wid ye. then get hold 
 o' her quick an' clear out wid her quick." 
 ^^ " ril take ye to her, sir," said Mary, eagerly. 
 "Come, sir! Come along wid ye. She bes at the 
 skipper's own house." 
 
 "At his own house? So I heard," said Dar- 
 ling, thickly. 
 
 "Aye," said Pat. "an' safe as if she was in 
 church, wid xMother Nolan to mind her. Sure, an' 
 Denny Nolan bain't such a pirate as ye t'inks.' sir. 
 Lie an' curse an' fight an' wrack he will, like the 
 
Mr. Darling Arrives in Chance Alon g 245 
 
 divil himself; but he bes a decent man wid the 
 helpless, accordin' to his lights, for all that. Aye 
 cap'n, till she bes Denny Nolan's wife she kin b^ 
 any man's wife -if he bes smart enough to get 
 her out o' Oiance Along." 
 
 " Come along wid me. sir! " urged Mary, pulling 
 at Darling's sleeve. " He bes out o' the harbor 
 now. wid all the crew. Now bes yer chance, sir! " 
 She had thrown a shawl over her head and 
 shoulders while her fp.ther was talking; and now 
 she opened the door and led the sailor into the 
 choking fog outside. 
 
 " Give mt yer hand, sir, an" mind yer feet." she 
 whispered. And then, as she pressed quickly for- 
 ward, leading Darling by the hand. " It must be 
 the saints themselves sent ye an^ the fog to Chance 
 Along together, sir -ye an' the fog an' the wrack 
 they all bes a-lookin' out for!" 
 
 " Then I trust the saints may continue their good 
 offices,'" said Darling, seriously. 
 
 " Aye, sir. .n' why not.? " she returned. " But 
 here we be, .ir Mother Nolan an' yer lass bes 
 a one m the he together this minute; an' Mother 
 Nolan will not be sayin' nay to yer olans o' runnin' 
 away." 
 
 I 
 
246 
 
 The Harbor Master 
 
 She opened the door and drew Mr. Darling 
 after her into the lighted kitchen. " Here bes yer 
 help, Flora darlin'," she said. " An' 'twas no letter 
 fetched him, ye kin lay to that, but the drag in 
 his own heart for ye." 
 
 Old Mother Nolan looked up at them with her 
 snapping black eyes. 
 
 " Shut the door! " said she. " D'ye want to fill 
 all me poor old bones wid misery? " 
 
 Mary laughed uncertainly and slammed the 
 door; and it was not until then that Flora Lock- 
 hart moved or uttered a sound. She sprang to her 
 feet, her clear eyes shining like stars. 
 
 "Jack! Mr. Darling!" she cried. "You here? 
 Have you come for me? " 
 
 The sailor's heart fairly flooded his arteries with 
 joy and tenderness. She had remembered him at a 
 glance after the three long years! She had called 
 him by name! Work, ambition, fame and disaster 
 had not driven out the memory of him. 
 
 "Yes, I have come for you," he said, huskily. 
 "I would have come long ago if I had known — 
 but I heard of it only by chance — a few days 
 ago. Are you ready to come away with me 
 now? We must hurry— for I fear that I am 
 
 mg. 
 
Mr. Darling Arrives in Chance Along 247 
 
 not strong enough to risk facing your jailer — 
 just now." 
 
 Mother Nolan threw a fur coat about the girl's 
 shoulders. 
 
 "Aye, she bes ready," said the old woman 
 " Mary, snatch her things together, an' carry 'em 
 along. Step lively, for the love o' heaven! Have 
 ye a boat, lad? Then get her to it as quick as ye 
 km. an' into it. an' away out o' Chance Along wid 
 the two o' ye jist as quick as the holy saints will 
 let ye ! " 
 
 John Darling fastened the great coat around 
 Flora with trembling fingers. 
 
 " To find you here! " he Whispered. " And yet 
 you seem nearer to me here than when I read of 
 you -of your glory -out there in the great 
 world." ^ 
 
 Their hands touched. Her eyes kindled to his. 
 flame for flame, throb for throb. 
 ^^ ''I am glad — yoM have found me," ^he said. 
 " \ou — you did not forget me." 
 
 At that moment the door was flung open and 
 Black Dennis Nolan sprang into the room, fol- 
 lowed closely by Bill Brennen aiid Nick Leary 
 The skipper had returned to the harbor because 
 
 i 
 
0^' 
 
 248 
 
 The Harbor Master 
 
 the ship in distress had drifted clear of the coast 
 after all, and was even now firing her gun and 
 burning her flares in clear water directly oflf Chance 
 Along. Before flinging open the door the wreck- 
 ers had seen through the window wh't was taking 
 place in the kitchen. 
 
 Flora Lockhart screamed and flung her arms 
 around John Darling, clinging to him as to her 
 only hope of deliverance; and before he could pull 
 himself clear of her and draw a pistol from his 
 pocket the infuriated skipper was upon him. Nolan 
 gripped with his left hand, and struck with his 
 right fist and his whole body; but, quick as thought, 
 the sailor twisted, ducked and gripped the other 
 low about the hips. They hurtled across the room, 
 collided against a chair and crashed to the floor 
 with Darling on top. Bill Brennen plunged for- 
 ward to help His master, but was met half-way by 
 old Mother Nolan, who twined her claws in his 
 whiskers and hung to him like a cat to a curtain. 
 Nick Leary was about to settle things when Mary 
 Kayanagh fell upon him with a leg of the broken 
 chair. Flora alone did not join the fray. She fell 
 back against the wall and covered her eyes with her 
 hands. 
 
 TitStSS. •»' 
 
Mr. Darling Arrives in Chance Alo ng 249 
 
 Things were at a deadlock, with the chances 
 good for Darling to break away from the dazed 
 skipper and make his escape. Bill Brennen was of 
 no use, for he could not strike the terrible old 
 woman who hung to his whiskers until he yelled 
 with the pain of it. Nick lay on the floor with 
 music and stars in his head and conviction that 
 Mary Kavanagh (who even now knelt on his chest) 
 was a grand young woman entirely. Then young 
 Cormick entered, took in the vital points of the 
 situation at a glance, snatched up a stick of fire- 
 wood, and jumped for the corner where his 
 brother and the stranger lay clinched. Flora saw 
 It from between her trembling fingers. She 
 screamed and sprang forward with out-flung arms- 
 but she was too late. The boy struck once with the' 
 billet — - and the fight was ended. 
 
 ";'iff?S.."g'«!» IHte^B*^ 
 
CHAPTER XVII 
 
 MARY KAVANAGH USES HER WITS 
 
 For half a minute the skipper was mad enough 
 to kill the unconscious sailor with his hands and 
 feet; but Mother Nolan and Mary Kavanagh to- 
 gether were equal to the task of holding him and 
 bringing him to a glimmering of reason. Mother 
 Nolan's tongue did not spare him, even as her 
 fingers had not spared poor, loyal Bill Brennen's 
 whiskers. 
 
 " Would ye be murderin' him ? " she cried. " An' 
 him helpless — aye, an' a better man nor ye be 
 yerself, Denny Nolan. Then }c be no blood an' 
 kin to me, ye great murderer! Didn't he land ye 
 on the flat o' yer great back, ye limb though ye 
 took him all suddant an' unawares? Sure, he did! 
 Kill him, then; an' 'twill be your own father's 
 mother goes to St. Tohn's to bring the police to 
 hang ye up by yer cowardly neck. Aye, ye kin lay 
 to that! What old Kate Nolan says she says, an' 
 the divil himself couldn't make a liar of her ! " 
 
 250 
 
 i?*SSSF:SVTl^?B«. 
 
 3K.;^?i 
 
■•»*i^ 
 
 Mary Kavanagh Uses Her Wits 251 
 
 
 ■^ 
 
 li 
 
 " I thought ye was a man, Denny, an' fought like 
 a man," said Mary Kavanagh, in a low voice that 
 shook with unuttered sobs; " but if ye strikes him 
 now, a-layin' there as harmless as a swile, then I'll 
 know ye for a coward an' a murderer." 
 
 The skipper looked down at Flora Lockhart, who 
 knelt above Darling, weeping bitterly. His black 
 eyes glowed and his face twisted and paled. 
 
 "If it had bin meself hit the blow that downed 
 him, then I'd be finishin' him," he said, " but I don't 
 kill where I don't down ! I hain't no coward, Mary 
 Kavanagh, as well ye knows ! Bes there any more 
 o' the likes of him a-sneakin' 'round me own har- 
 bor?" 
 
 " He come alone," said Mary. " He come alone, 
 to find the girl ye've bin hidin' an' holdin' in Chance 
 Along till all her folks thinks she bes dead." 
 
 " Sure, then, he found her," snarled the skipper, 
 " an' little good 'twill be doin' him ! " 
 
 " Shame upon ye, Denny Nolan ! " exclaimed the 
 old woman. " Shame upon ye an' yer lies an' yer 
 wicked, silly heart that fought to keep the likes o' 
 her forever in Chance Along. Ye bain't able to 
 fool old Kate Nolan wid yer lies! Sure, wasn't 
 I on to ye from the minute ye come home that ye'd 
 
252 
 
 The Harbor Master 
 
 not bin to Witless Bay wid the letter? I seed the 
 lie writ across yer face, Denny Nolan. Shame upon 
 ye to be tryin' to bury the poor helpless girl 
 alive!" 
 
 " Pick him up," said the skipper, sullenly. 
 " There bes grub enough an' to spare to feed him 
 an' a hundred like him. Heave him up atween ye. 
 men, an' we'll be lockin' of him up in a safe place. 
 Fetch along the lantern, Cormy, lad." 
 
 John Darling opened his eyes at this moment, 
 stared dizzily around him and struggled up to one 
 elbow. 
 
 " Flora! " he cried. " Flora, where are >ou? " 
 
 The girl tried to go to him, but the skipper held 
 her. Bill Brennen pressed the sailor back, and tied 
 his wrists and ankles. 
 
 " Who carried the letter out to him ? " demanded 
 the skipper, gripping the girl's shoulders with his 
 great hands, and glaring down into her colorless 
 face. For answer, she wrenched herself away, and 
 struck him a stinging blow across the mouth with 
 her right hand. 
 
 " How dare you? " she cried. " How dare you 
 lay hands on me ? I despise you, you brute ! " 
 
 He stepped back, his face crimson, his mouth 
 
 
 W^ 
 
 '^^ 
 
 ^H 
 
Mary Kavanagh Uses Her Wits «5S 
 
 twitching, all the fire and mastery gone from his 
 eyes. He had thought, poor fool, that she was 
 learning to care for him; for of late, in her game 
 of self-defence, she had treated him with evident 
 consideration and many littie attentions of the voice 
 and eyes. And now he understood. He saw the 
 truth in every flash of her eyes, in every line of 
 brow, mouth and chin. He turned, took the lan- 
 tern from Cormick and strode from the house, with 
 Bill and Nick and their prisoner at his heels. 
 
 " Go down to the land-wash an' spy 'round for 
 his boat," he said to Cormick. " Turn out a couple 
 o' men to help ye hunt for it — an' maybe ye'll find 
 some more o' these sneakin' robbers hangin* 'round 
 the harbor." 
 
 They carried Darlins: to the store, the skipper 
 leading the way, and his trusties swinging and hoist- 
 ing their helpless burden by heeN and shoulders. 
 They dropped him on the cold f^ >or as if he had 
 no more feelings than a sack of hard bread. 
 
 " That bes all. lads." said the skipper. " Go help 
 hunt for the boat now an' shut the door behind ye. 
 I'll jist be sayin' a few words to this dirty spy afore 
 I leaves him to his dreams." 
 
 Brennen and Leary turned and left the store 
 
254 
 
 The Harbor Master 
 
 without a word. They felt vaguely uneasy, as if 
 the guat world of up-along had at last found them 
 out, and reached a menaci g hand into their snug 
 harbor. Would the skipper be able to deal with 
 so vast an enemy? If he killed this stranger it 
 would mean hanging by the neck, sooner or later 
 — perhaps for every man in the harbor? If he let 
 him live, and held him a prisoner, it would bring 
 the law prying int( ■ their affairs, some time or other. 
 Doubt chilled them. They stumbled heavily away 
 in the darkness. 
 
 The skipper held the lantern to his captive's face 
 and regarded him with wolfish, sneering attention. 
 Soon the sneer faded a little. 
 
 " I's seed ye afore," he said. " Aye, sure as hell, 
 I's seed ye afore! " 
 
 " And this is not the first time I've seen your 
 ugly mug. either." returned Darling. " I saw you 
 the night the Durham Castle came ashore on this 
 coast — the night you robbed the captain and the 
 passengers. Well, what are you going to do about 
 it?" 
 
 " Ye'U larn that soon enough," returned the 
 other. " Did ye get a letter from — from her? " 
 
 " No," replied Darling, unable to see any danger 
 
Mary Kavanagh Uses H er Wits 255 
 
 in telling the truth of that matter. " No, I didn't 
 get any letter. I met a friend of yours in St. John's, 
 and he told me a great deal , bout you, and the game 
 you are playing in this harbor — and also about her. 
 Your friend's name is Dick Lynch." 
 
 "Dick Lynch," repeated the skipper, quietly. 
 " I'll be cuttin' the heart out o' that dog yet ! " 
 
 "And a good job, no doubt," said Darling. 
 " But I warn you, my man, that if you injure 
 Mi5S Lockhart in any way you'll curse the day 
 you first saw daylight. You'll be burned out of here 
 like the dirty, murdering pirate ^hat you are — 
 you and yo •- whole crew. The l,iw v i?' have you, 
 my man — it will have you by th yrS. Oo you 
 think I isked coming to this place 'ih- ■:!. leaving 
 word behind me of where I was bound for and what 
 I was after ? " 
 
 " Now ye be lyin'," said the skipper, coolly. " Ye 
 telled the truth about Dick Lynch ; but now ye lie. 
 Don't ye try to fool wid me, damn ye! Ye come 
 to Chance Alon- widout leavin' a word behind ye. 
 I sees the lie in yer face." 
 
 " I left Dick Lynch behind me," said the sailor. 
 
 That shook the skipper's assurance; but he was 
 in no mood to feel fear for more than a moment. 
 
 I 
 
f 
 
 256 
 
 The Harbor Master 
 
 He laughed sneeringly and began to unload his cap- 
 tive's pockets. He took out the pistols, admired 
 them and laiu them aside. Next, he unearthed a 
 few cakes of hard bread, a small flask of brandy, 
 and a pipe and half a plug of tobacco. 
 
 " How'd ye come to Chance Along, anyhow ? 
 Where bes yer boat ? " he asked, suddenly, pausing 
 in his work. 
 
 " I walked across from Witless Bay," said Dar- 
 ling. 
 
 " Where bes yer boat? " asked the other. 
 
 " In Witless Bay, you fool ! Do you think I 
 carried it across my back ? " 
 
 The skipper swung the lantern back and glanced 
 at the soles of the other's boots. 
 
 " Ye bes a liar — and a desperate poor one at 
 that," he said. " Where bes yer boat ? " 
 
 John Darling lost his temper. He disliked being 
 forced into telling a lie — and, being human, he 
 disliked still more to have the lie discovered and 
 the effort wasted. 
 
 " Go to hell and find it, you black-faced pirate! " 
 he roared. 
 
 The skipper stopped, glared down at him, ami 
 swung his right hand back for a blow. 
 
Mary Kavanagh Uses Her W its 257 
 
 " Hit away, I'm tied," said the other, without 
 flinching. 
 
 The skipper let his hand sink to his side. 
 " I don't hit a tied man. That hain't my way," 
 he said, flushing darkly. 
 
 " Untie me, then, and you can hit all you want 
 to. Cut these ropes and let me at you. Come now, 
 for I see that you have some sense of manliness in 
 you, after all." 
 
 " Not jist now. To-morrow, maybe — or maybe 
 next day — I'll fight ye. And. by hell, when I do 
 ril kill ye wid me two hands ! " 
 
 " I'll take the chance. Unless you starve me or 
 cripple me in the meantime, I'll knock the everlast- 
 ing life out of you." 
 
 The skipper growled and took up his interrupted 
 work of investigating the other's pockets. He un- 
 buttoned the heavy reefer and thrust a hand into 
 an inner pocket. In a second he withdrew it, hold- 
 ing the little casket bound in red leather. A cry 
 of astonishment escaped him. He pressed the 
 catch with his thumb and the diamonds and 
 rubies flashed and glowed beneath his dazzled 
 eyes. 
 
 " Me own diamonds ! " he cried. " Holy saints 
 
tp" 
 
 258 
 
 The Harbor Master 
 
 alive, me own diamonds! Where'd ye find 'em? 
 Tell me that, now — where'd ye tind 'em ? " 
 
 Darling did not reply for a moment. Then, 
 speaking quietly and somewhat bitterly, he said, 
 "If you really want to know, I found them on a 
 dead man, under the cliff a few miles to the north 
 of here." 
 
 " That would be Foxey Jack Quinn," said the 
 skipper. He closed the box and put it in his pocket, 
 then took up the lantern and went out, locking the 
 door behind him. 
 
 In the meantime, Mary Kavanagh had not been 
 idle. She felt sure that the stranger was safe from 
 bodily harm for the night at least, now that Dennis 
 had shaken off the first blind deviltry of his rage. 
 She knew Dennis almost as well as old Mother 
 Nolan did; and to-night she felt sorry for him as 
 well as angry with him. Leaving Flora in Mother 
 Nolan's care, she left the house, and followed Cor- 
 mick and the others down to the land-wash. The 
 fog was thinning swiftly; but night had fallen, and 
 the sky, sea 2nd land were ail black as tar. She 
 soon learned that no sign of the stranger's boat 
 could be found in the harbor. Returning from the 
 land-wash, she met Nick Leary. 
 
 i-¥- -■!«~tr;«!-3^-.*i?*fe?VKi^W 
 
 ^■•=afe-fci^ r -jasWi 
 
Mary Kavanagh Uses Her Wits 259 
 
 "How bes ye a-feelin' now?" she asked, not 
 unkindly. " But it served ye right, Nick. A great 
 man like ye has no call to be fightin' wid women." 
 
 " Me poor head buzzes like a nest o' wasps whin 
 ye pokes it wid a club," said Nick. " Sure, Mary, 
 'tv-.s : sweet tap ye give me! Marry me, girl, an' 
 ye i! be free to bat me every day o' yer born life." 
 
 " Sure, an' 'twould do ye no harm," said Mary. 
 And then, " So ye've shut the poor lad in the store, 
 have ye ? " 
 
 " Aye, but how'd ye know it, Mary ? " 
 " I didn't know it, Nick, till ye telled me. Now 
 go on wid yer business o' huntin' for the boat an' 
 I'll be goin' on wid mine. An' thanks for yer offer, 
 lad ; but sure I'll never marry a man I kin knock 
 down wid the leg o' a chair." 
 
 Nick seemed to be m no mood to accept this state- 
 ment as final ; but the girl soon cleared her tracks 
 of him in the inky darkness, among the little houses. 
 She climbed the path to the edge of the barren and 
 turned northward. From what she had seen of 
 John Darling she felt sure that he was no fool; 
 and therefore she had not expected to find his boat 
 in the harbor. He had told Mother Nolan that he 
 had a boat, but had not mentioned its whereabouts. 
 
260 
 
 The Harbor Master 
 
 Mary decided that it was hidden somewhere handy 
 to the harbor; and she was inclined to think that 
 it was manned. He had come from the north, of 
 course; therefore the chances were good that he 
 had left his boat somewhere to the north of the 
 harbor. She knew every hollow, break and out- 
 thrust of that coast for miles as well as she knew 
 the walls and floors of her father's cabin. A 
 thought of the little drook came to her mind and 
 she quickened her steps along the path. The light 
 wind was shifting and the fog was trailing coast- 
 wise to the south before it. Mary noted this, sniffed 
 at the air, which was slowly but surely changing in 
 quality, and looked up at the black sky. 
 
 " There'll be snow afore mornin'." she said. 
 
 When she reached the head of the drook she 
 halted and gave ear. The sloshing and lapping of 
 the tide came up to her: and that was all for a 
 minute or two. She parted the alders and young 
 birches with her hands, very cautiously, and moved 
 downward into the thicket for a distance of three 
 or four yards, then halted again and again listened. 
 At last, above the noises of the tide and almost 
 smothered by them, she heard a sound unmistakably 
 human — a violent sneeze. For a little whale ?he 
 
Mary Kavanagh Uses Her Wits 261 
 
 remained quiet, daunted by the darkness and trying 
 to consider the risks she was about to take. But 
 the risks could not be considered, for they were 
 absolutely unknown. She was playing for peace 
 and justice, howevr, — yes, and for Denny Nolan's 
 happiness. Mastering her fear, she whistled softly. 
 After a minute's silence a guarded voice replied to 
 the whistle. 
 
 " Be that yerself, sir?" inquired the voice from 
 the blackness below. 
 
 She descended lower, parting the tangled growth 
 before her with her hands. 
 
 " I bes a frien^ — an' a woman," she said. " I 
 comes wid a word for ye, from him." 
 
 "Stand where ye bes!" commanded George 
 Wicks, his voice anxious and suspicious. " What 
 the divil bes the trouble now? Mand where ye bes 
 an' tell me the word " 
 
 " I bes all alone, so help me Peter ! " replied the 
 girl. " an' it bain't safe the way we bes talkin' now, 
 up an' down the drook. The lads o' the harbor 
 may be comin' this way an' a-hearin' us — an' then 
 ye'll bes in as bad a way as the captain himself. Let 
 me come down to ye. Bes ye a feared o" one lone 
 woman? " 
 
f 
 
 262 
 
 The Harbor Master 
 
 " Come down wid ye, then," said George, his 
 voice none too steady, " but I warns ye as how I 
 hes a lantern here an' a pistol, an' if ye hain't all 
 alone by yerself Til shoot ye like a swile an' ax 
 ye yer business afterwards. I's heard queer t'ings 
 o' Chance Alon?! " 
 
 " I bes alone," returned Mary, " an' if ye fires 
 yer pistol at me then ye bes a dirty coward." 
 
 As she spoke she continued her difficult way down 
 the channel of the drook. She saw the yellow gleam 
 of the lantern between the snarled stems of the 
 bushes. Strong, clear-headed and brave as she was, 
 she began now to sob quietly with fright; yet she 
 continued to push her way down the drook. 
 
 " They — they has caught the captain." she said, 
 brokenly, " an' now they bes huntin' all 'round the 
 harbor for his boat. I has — come to tell ye — an' 
 to help ye." 
 
 George Wick parted the bushes, raised his lan- 
 tern and peered up at her. 
 
 " There hain't no call for ye to be cryin'." he 
 said, in a changed voice. " If ye means no treach- 
 ery, lass, then I'll not be hurtin' ye." 
 
 She stood beside him; and as he stared at her 
 by the yellow light of the lantern all thought of 
 
 ■m^s^mmfsssvrymm^a^kgwmois^^^s^i^. 
 
 ^PfTBWSBlttKMHIJdgSt. 
 
Mary Kavanagh Uses Her Wits £63 
 
 treachery from tha, quarter faded away. His heart 
 warmed and got a trifle out of hand He cou,d 
 
 scarce^ bel.eve his senses, and for a moment fS 
 John Darhng and the queer stories he had heard of 
 
 Chan e Along. All he realized was that his ey!s 
 
 and the lantern told him that the finest looking^ 
 
 he had ever seen had come down the drook. fl, of 
 
 he. own free will, to pay him a visit. 
 
 stored' f!''"r:^'" "™ -• >-<! him up in the 
 store whispered Mary, "an' now all the men in 
 he harbor bes searchin' for the boat." Then she 
 2 f^ -<>;y Of Flora Lockhart, and discll ed 
 
 t'o hertir"""' *' '"'''' '^=' -^^ ^- -- 
 
 as:fann-:er"L:drt;-::,^-- 
 
 -ve, wcii be puttine the 
 
 com .her on to Black Denny .Volan, ye kin l!y .0 
 that! Sure, , the a grand idee altogether'" 
 
 So they unloaded the bully and hid everything 
 among the bushes. -^ ^ 
 
 "Now you must lay low," cautioned Mary. " an' 
 I " bnng yer bully back to ye .-.s soon as I k^n - 
 or maybe one o' the skipper's bullies in i,s p,,ce 
 Any ow, ril get to see ye agin to-morrow n'^' 
 Lay low, now, an' don't be lightin' a fire." 
 
 f 
 
 tti-.i.fiS 
 
264 
 
 The Harbor Master 
 
 As she stepped aboard the bully George's mind 
 cleared a little. 
 
 " Ye bain't playin' any tricks on me, I do hope," 
 he whispered. "Ye wouldn't be leavin' me here 
 all alone by meself forever, widout me bully even, 
 would ye now ? " 
 
 " Ye kin trust me," said Mary. Then she shoved 
 off into the darkness. 
 
 Half an hour later the keel of the bully touched 
 the land-wash in the sheltered harbor of Chance 
 Along. Mary Kavanagh stepped ashore, laid the 
 oar noiselessly inboard and set the bully adrift, and 
 then made her cautious way up and into her father's 
 cabin. Snow began to fall thickly and silently as 
 she closed the door. 
 
 
I 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII 
 
 MOTHER NOLAN DOES SOME SPYING 
 
 John Darling was sore, hungry and cold; but 
 h.s heart was joyful and strong. He had been 
 knocked over the head, and he had been robbed of 
 he newly-recovered necklace and the reward of a 
 thousand pounds; but he had found Flora. ahVe 
 evidently not ill-treated and not in any real danger' 
 save of oblivion, and with the memory of him clear 
 m her heart. He had failed to get her away from 
 the harbor; but he felt convinced that a way of 
 escape for both of them would soon occur He did 
 not fear Black Dennis Nolan. The fellow was a 
 man. after all. He knew that if he should c«ne 
 to any senous physical injury at the skipper's hands 
 it would be in a fair fight. Also, he knew that 
 Mother Nolan and Mary Kavanagh were on his 
 side - were as anxious to get Flora out of the har- 
 bor as he was to take her out. But the planks upon 
 H'hich he lay were as cold and hard as ice; and at 
 last he began to wonder if even his splendid con- 
 
206 
 
 The Harbor Master 
 
 stitution would stand a night of this exposure, bound 
 hand and foot, without serious results. He lay 
 awake for hours, suflfering in body but rejoicing in 
 heart. At last, numb with cold, he sank into a half- 
 doze. He was aroused by sounds at the door — the 
 cry of a key turning an unoiled lock and the creak 
 of rusty hinges. Then the welcome gleam of a 
 lantern flooded to him along the frosty floor. The 
 visitor was Bill Brennen. He stooped above the 
 sailor and squinted at him curiously. Under his 
 left arm he carried a caribou skin and several blan- 
 kets. 
 
 " Lad," said he, " ye must be full o' the divil's 
 own ginger to cross the skipper as ye done. Sure 
 an' the wonder bes why he didn't kill ye dead! 
 But now that ye still be alive, him not killin' ye 
 in the first flush, ye bes safe as Mother Nolan her- 
 self. A divil o' a woman that, entirely. Saints in 
 glory, me whiskers still aches desperate! Here bes 
 a grand rug for ye to lay on, an' blankets to cover 
 yerself wid. The skipper sent 'em. Kill a man 
 he will, in fair fight; but it bain't in his nature 
 to let any man j^o cold nor hungry in Chance 
 Along." 
 
 He spread the caribou skin and one of the blan- 
 
Mother Nolan Does Some Spying m 
 
 kets o„ the floor and rolled John Darling on to 
 Ihem, Then he threw two more blankets over him 
 and tucked them in. Next, he produced a flask 
 trom his pocket and uncocked it 
 
 t.TlT'' "''''"'" ■" "'<■• ="«' •"'<• 'he flask 
 to the helpless one's lips, 
 
 " ^"^ y^ ''" ^s sn-S as any marchant. what 
 w.d yer grand bed an' yer drop o' fine liquor in 
 yer belly, he remarked. He turned at the door 
 
 themomm'. Good night to ye " 
 
 From that until morning, the prisoner on the 
 flcwr, bound at wrist and ankle, rested more peace- 
 fully than Black Dennis Nolan in his father's bed- 
 -for the sailor was only sore in his muscles and 
 bones, but .he skipper ached in heart and soul The 
 skipper tossed through .he black hours, reasoning 
 agams. reason, hoping against hopelessness. The 
 g.rl hated him and despised him! T.ist and turn 
 
 tio.^ 7 u'"' '°"" ""• ""P' '""■ '"- "nvic- 
 y- ! ' ''™ ''°"'"='' "" POV" of the dia- 
 monds and rubies ,o win her. having seen .ha. in 
 
 blmg .o chokmg dust Pai„ had laid the devil of 
 f"0- .n h,m and aroused die imp of stubbornness 
 
!Bil 
 
MICROCOPY RESOLUTION TEST CHART 
 
 (ANSI and ISO TEST CHART No 2) 
 
 1.0 
 
 I.I 
 
 1.25 
 
 |50 
 
 2.8 
 
 1^ IlilM 
 
 Ilia 
 
 1.4 
 
 2.5 
 2.2 
 
 1 2.0 
 1.8 
 
 1.6 
 
 ^ APPLIED IIVHGE 
 
 '653 Last Mgit '-yUee*. 
 
 f^o:hester. Ne* 'ork '4609 uSA 
 
 (7-6) 482 - OJOO - Phone 
 
 (^16) 288 - 5989 - fax 
 
268 
 
 The Harbor Master 
 
 He would wait and watch. He was safe to keep 
 them both in the harbor until the arrival of Father 
 McQueen, in June; and perhaps, by that time, he 
 would see some way of winning the girl. Should 
 the necklace of diamonds and rubies fail to impress 
 the girl, then he might bribe John Darling with it 
 to leave the harbor. You see, the workings of the 
 skipper's mind were as primitive as his methods of 
 coping with mutineers. 
 
 The skipper left his bed and the house at the 
 first gray of dawn, determined to search the coast 
 high and low for a solution of the mystery of the 
 stranger's arrival. He went down between the 
 silent cabins, all roofed with new snow, and the 
 empty snow-trimmed stages, and looked out upon 
 the little harbor. What was that, just at the edge 
 of the shadow of the rock to the right of the nar- 
 row passage? — a boat, lump of wreckage or a 
 shadow? Stare as he would, he could not deter- 
 mine the nature of the thing in that faint and elfin 
 twilight; but it drew his eye and aroused his curi- 
 osity as no natural shadow of any familiar rock 
 could have done. He dragged a skiff from under 
 one of the stages and launched it into the quiet 
 harbor and with a single oar over the stern sculled 
 
out toward the black object on the steel-gniy tide 
 t proved to be a fine bully, empty and with the 
 
 •■ So this bes how he come to Chance Alone - 
 an not man enough to moor his boat safe! "ex- 
 claimed the skipper. 
 
 buit save for one oar lying across the thwarts. 
 
 Not even a spar and sail were aboard her The 
 »an must be an absolute fool to set out along a 
 dangerous coast, in a bad time of year, sinL 
 har-ded an without grub or gear, reflected the skV 
 
 Z ,H M K "^ """ ""^ " ''""S'er as this stran- 
 I" should be preferred to himself, intensified his 
 pangs of humiliation. No girl who understood such 
 
 o S^r.'i" °' "'' '-^'- would treat him 
 
 30, he reflected, bitterly. He pulled the dripping 
 
 pamter aboard the skiff, made it fast arou'df 
 
 thwart and towed the bully ashore 
 
 Mary Kavanagh had been astir as early as the 
 
 From the store, she hastened to the skipper's house 
 
270 
 
 The Harbor Master 
 
 saw his footprints pointing toward the land-wash, 
 and stood with her hand on the latch until a skiff 
 slid out into her line of vision from behind the 
 drying-stages. She knew that the skipper was on 
 his way to investigate the derelict bully. She opened 
 the door then, entered quietly and went to Mother 
 Nolan's room. The old woman was sitting up in 
 bed with her nightcap a-tilt over one ear. 
 
 " Saints alive, Mary, what mischief bes afoot 
 now ? " asked Mother Nolan. 
 
 Mary drew close to the bed-side and leaned over 
 to her confederate. 
 
 " The captain bes safe in the store, all rolled up 
 in blankets," she whispered, "an' — an' I lamed 
 something last night that means as how we kin get 
 'em both away before long, wid luck. An' I played 
 a trick on the skipper — .so don't ye bes worryin' 
 when he tells ye as how he's found the captain's 
 boat. Give the word to the lass to keep her heart 
 up. Sure, we'll be gettin' the two o' them safe out 
 o' the harbor yet." 
 
 "An where bes Denny now? How'd ye get 
 into the house? " asked the old woman. 
 
 " He bes out in a skiff this very minute, a-lookin' 
 at the captain's boat where it bes driftin' 'round 
 
Mother Nolan D oes Some Spying 271 
 
 the harbor. Sure, an' that bes just where I wants 
 him. An' now I'll be goin'. Mother Nolan dear, 
 for I bain't wishin' Denny to catch me here a-whis- 
 perin' t'ye so early in the mornin' or maybe he'd get 
 the idea into his head as how us two women bain't 
 such harmless fools as what he's always bin takin' 
 us for." 
 
 " Ye bes a fine girl, Mary Kavanagh," returned 
 Mother Nolan, " an' I trusts ye to clear this harbor 
 o' trouble. I'll be tellin' the good word to the poor 
 lass inside this very minute. Her heart bain't all 
 diamonds an' pride, after all, as she let us know 
 last night, poor dear." 
 
 Mary left them, and a minute later met the skip- 
 per on his way up from the land-wash. 
 
 " I's found the boat the stranger come in," said 
 the skipper 
 
 " Sure, an' so ye would, Denny, if it was to be 
 found," replied Mary. 
 
 The young man eyed her gloomily and inquir- 
 ingly until she blushed and turned her face away 
 from him. 
 
 " Ye talks fair, Mary," he said. " Ye talks as if 
 ye was a friend o' mine; but ye bain't always actin' 
 that same way, these days. Last night, now. ye 
 
272 
 
 The Harbor Master 
 
 an' granny was sure fightin' agin me! I seed ye 
 bat Nick Leary wid the leg o' the chair — an' I 
 seed that dacent old woman a-hangin' to Bill Bren- 
 nen's whiskers like a wildcat to the moss on a 
 tree." 
 
 " An' why not, Denny Nolan? " retorted the girl. 
 " Ye t'ree men was after murderin' that poor lad ! 
 D'ye think Mother Nolan was wantin' to see ye 
 carried oflF to St. John's an' hung by yer neck? 
 Sure, we was fightin' agin ye. What hurt had that 
 poor lad ever done to ye? He come to Chance 
 Along for his lass — an' sure, she was ready enough 
 to be goin' away wid him ! " 
 
 The skipper's face darkened. " Who saved her 
 life from the wrack?" he cried. "Tell me that, 
 will ye! Who salvaged her from the foretop o' 
 the wrack ? " 
 
 Without waiting for an rinswer, he brushed past 
 Mary and strode up to h'i house. The girl stood 
 motionless for a little while, gazing after him with 
 a flushed face, twitching lips and a flicker of amuse- 
 ment in her gray eyes. 
 
 " Poor Denny," she murmured. " His pride bes 
 hurt more nor the heart of him I " 
 
 John Darling was not honored by a visit from 
 
 m^^m' 
 
Mother Nolan Does Some Spying 27S 
 
 the skipper that day; but Bill Brennen carried food 
 to hirn, made up a fire in the stove, and even loosed 
 his bonds for a few minutes upon receiving his word 
 of honor that he would not take advantage of the 
 kindness by trying to escape. 
 
 "What does Nolan intend to do with me?" 
 asked Darling. 
 
 " Well, sir, it looks to me as how he bes figgerin' 
 to keep ye in Chance Along till June. He bes 
 t'inkin' as how the young lady may blow 'round 
 to his own idee," replied Bill. 
 
 " And what is his idea? " 
 
 " As how he bes a better man nor ye be." 
 
 " But why does he figure to keep me until June? 
 Why not until July, or August — or next Christ- 
 mas?" 
 
 " Well, sir, ye see it bes this way wid him. 
 Father McQueen, the dear, riverent gentleman — 
 an' may he never die till I kills him, an' may every 
 blessed hair on his head turn into a wax candle to 
 light him to glory! — bes comin' back to Chance 
 Along in June. The ^kipper hain't afeared o' any 
 man in the world but his riverence." 
 
 John Darling smiled. " I should like to see 
 Father McQueen," he said; " but I am afraid I must 
 
274 
 
 The Harbor Master 
 
 'i 
 
 be going away from here considerably before the 
 
 first of June." 
 
 Bill wagged his head. " Now don't ye be too 
 sure, sir," he whispered. " Ye hain't dealin' wid 
 any ignorant fisherman when ye bes dealin' wid 
 Black Dennis Nolan. Sure, didn't he find yer bully 
 this very mornin' ! " 
 
 "My bully!" exclaimed the other, losing color. 
 "Where did he find it?" 
 
 " Driftin' in the harbor," returned Bill. " It bes 
 a grand bully entirely, sir." 
 
 Darling was silent for a moment. Then, trying 
 to look as if the finding of ihe bully drifting in 
 the harbor was rather a jok- *^ 1 ughed. 
 
 "And did he capture m- of five strong 
 
 men?" he asked. 
 
 Bill Brennen grinned. "Now ye needn't be 
 tryin' any o' yer divilment on me," he said. " The 
 bully was as empty as Tim Sullivan's brain-locker 
 
 an' the holy saints knows as that bes empty 
 
 enough ! Sure, there wasn't even a sail aboard her, 
 nor a bite o' grub nor a drop o' liquor." 
 
 " My five men must have fallen overboard," said 
 Darling, smiling. Poor John! Now, should he 
 manage to escape and get Flora out of the skipper's 
 
Mother Nolan Does Some Spy ing 275 
 
 house, how was he to get out of the harbor? What 
 had happened to George Wick ? The tide must have 
 carried the bully out of the drook, while George was 
 asleep, and drifted it around to the harbor. He 
 promised himself the pleasure of teaching Master 
 George the art of mooring a boat if he ever met 
 him again. 
 
 John Darling spent an anxious day. Shortly 
 after midnight he was startled by a faint tapping 
 on one of the windows. The night was pitch black, 
 and so he could see nothing. The tapping was 
 repeated. He rolled out of his blanket and across 
 the floor toward the sound. His progress was 
 arrested by a rank of boxes and flour-bags. Press- 
 ing his shoulder against these, he hitched hhnself 
 to his feet, turned and leaned across them until his 
 face was within a foot of the faint square of the 
 window. Against the half-darkness he could now 
 see something indistinct in shape, and all of a dense 
 blackness save for a pale patch that he knew to be 
 a human face. It was Mary Kavanagh. She told 
 him briefly of the way she had turned the skipper 
 from searching the coast for his boat and his com- 
 panion ; of Flora's safety, and of how she hoped 
 to accomplish their escape before long — perhaps on 
 
The Harbor Master 
 
 g76 
 
 the following night. Wick was still hidden in the 
 drook. she said. She would try lo get a boat of 
 some kind around to him on the next night -and 
 if Che succeeded in that, she would return and try 
 to get Darling out of the store and Flora out of 
 the skipper's house. 
 
 The sailor was at a loss for words m which to 
 
 exoress his gratitude. 
 
 " But ye must promise me one thing/' whispered 
 the girl. " Ye must swear, by all the holy saints, 
 to do naught a-in Denny Nolan when once ye git 
 safe way -swear that neither Flora nor yerself 
 puts the law on to Denny, nor on to any o' the 
 folks o' this harbor, tor whatever has been done. 
 
 " I swear it, by all the saints," replied Darling. 
 "For myself — but I cannot promise it for Flora. 
 You must arrange that with her." 
 
 Several hours after Mary's interview with John 
 Darling, old Mother Nolan awoke in her bed. sud- 
 denly, with all her nerves on the jump. The room 
 was dark, but she felt convinced that a light had 
 been held close t. her face but a moment be.jre. 
 She felt no fear for herself, but a chilling anxiety 
 as to what deviltry Denny might be up to now^ 
 Could it be that she was mistaken in him after all? 
 
Mother Nolan Does Some Spying 277 
 
 Could it be that he was less of a man than she had 
 thought? She crawled noiselessly from her bed 
 and stole over to the door of Flora Lockhart's room. 
 The door was fastened. With the key, which she 
 had brought from under her pillow, she made sure 
 that it was locked. She unlocked it noiselessly, 
 opened the door a crack and peered in. The room 
 was lighted by the glow from the fire and by a gut- 
 tering candle on a chair beside the bed. She saw 
 that the room was empty, save for the sleeping girl. 
 Closing the door softly and locking it again, she 
 turned and groped her way across to the kitchen 
 door, beneath which a narrow line of light was vis- 
 ible. Scarcely breathing, she raised the latch, irew 
 the door inward a distance of half .» inch r>'id set 
 one of her bright old eyes tu the ^rack. She s« 
 the skipper kneeling in a corner of the kitchen, with 
 his back *o her and a candle on the floor beside hir 
 He seemed to be working busily and heavily, b 
 not a sound of his toil reached her eager ears. 
 
 " He bes hidin' somethin'," she reflected. 
 " Shiftin' some o' his wracked gold, maybe? But 
 why bes he so sly about it to-night, a-spyin' in on 
 his old grandmother to see if she bes sound asleep 
 or no ? " 
 
^ 
 
 278 
 
 The Harbor Master 
 
 Presently, she closed the door and crept back to 
 her bed. Next morning, as soon as the skipper 
 and young Cormick had left the house, she exam- 
 ined the corner of the floor where the skipper had 
 been at work. She had to pull aside a wood-box 
 to get at the spot. One of the narrow, dusty pi? .'s 
 showed that it had been tampered with. She pried 
 it up with a chisel, dug into the loose earth beneath 
 and at last found a small box covered with red 
 leather. She opened it and gazed at the diamonds 
 and rubies in frightened fascination. Ignorant as 
 she was of such things, she knew that the value of 
 these stones must be immense. At last she closed 
 the casket, returned it to the bottom of the hole 
 and replaced the earth, the plank and the wood-box. 
 Where, when and how had the skipper come by that 
 treasure? she wondered. She hobbled over to Pat 
 Kavanagh's house and told Mary all about it. 
 
CHAPTER XIX 
 
 MAR 
 
 WORK AGAIN 
 
 ^ 
 
 Pierre Benoist, the survivor of the French brig, 
 arrived at Mother McKay's shebeen in good order, 
 with the borrowed blanket draped over his broad 
 shoulders and the borrowed sealing-gun under his 
 arm. All birds of Pierre's variety of fea her 
 seemed to arrive naturally at Mother McKay's, 
 sooner or later. The French sailor found Dick 
 Lyrch; a Canadian trapper with Micmac blood in 
 his ins, who bad come out of the woods too soon 
 for nis own good; three men from Conception 
 Bay and half a dozen natives of the city, all talking 
 and swearing and drinking Mother McKay's ques- 
 tionable rum and still more questionable whiskey. 
 Pierre laid aside his blanket and musket, shouted 
 for liquor and then studied the assembled company. 
 It did not take him long to decide that they were 
 exactly the material he required. He took a seat 
 at Dick Lynch's elbow and in such English as he 
 was master of, remarked that any man who worked 
 for his living was no better than a fool. 
 
 279 
 
k i 
 
 280 
 
 The Harbor Master 
 
 " Sure," said Lynch, " by the looks o' yerself ye 
 should know." 
 
 Monsier- Benoist pulled his sinister mouth into 
 as pleasant a grin as he could manage, and veiled 
 the dangerous light in his eyes. Then he replied, 
 in a loud voice that caught the attention of all the 
 men in the room, that he was certainly in a position 
 to know, having come straight from a little har- 
 bor to the southward where a handful of fishermen 
 had just salvaged two chests of good French gold 
 from a wreck. He told the whole story of the 
 wreck and of the subsequent fight in which his 
 companion had been killed. To add reality to his 
 tale he described several of the fishermen minutely. 
 
 " That bes the skipper himself ! " cried Dick 
 Lynch. "That bes Black Dennis Nolan, ye kin 
 lay to that — aye, an' Bill Brennen an' Nick 
 Leary! Sure, then, ye've come from Chance 
 Along, b'y — the very place I comes from meself . 
 Two chests o' gold, d'ye say? Then I tells ye, 
 b'ys, there bes as much more there besides. Chance 
 Along bes fair stinkin' wid gold an' wracked 
 stuff." 
 
 He went on excitedly and gave a brief and start- 
 ling outline of the recent history of Blaok Dennis 
 
Mary At Work Again 
 
 281 
 
 Nolan and Chance Along, not forgetting his own 
 heroic stand against the tyrant. 
 
 " B'ys, all we has to be doin' bes to go an' take 
 it — an' then to scatter. This here captain wid the 
 rings in his ears has the right idee, sure ! Wid all 
 the gold an' jewels in Chance Along shared amongst 
 us sure we'd never be needin' to hit another clip o' 
 work so long as we live. Aye, 'twould be easy wid 
 guns in our hands ; but we must be quick about it, 
 lads, or the law'll be gittin' there ahead o' us." he 
 concluded. 
 
 The others clustered about Lynch and the 
 French sailor, a few of them reeling, but all intent 
 upon coming to some arrangement for laying hands 
 upon the treasure of Chance Along. Big fists 
 pounded the sloppy table, husky voices bellowed 
 questions, and stools and benches were overturned. 
 
 " There bes twelve o' us here," said Tom Brent, 
 of Harbor Grace, " twelve able lads, every moth- 
 er's son o' us ready for to make the trip. Now 
 the first thing bes for every mr.n to tell his name 
 an' swear as how he'll do his best at gettin' the 
 stuff an' never say naught about it to any livin' 
 soul after he's got safe away wid his share." 
 
 All agreed to these suggestions, and oaths were 
 
982 
 
 The Harbor Master 
 
 taken and hopes of everlasting salvation pledged 
 that were not worth the breath that sounded them. 
 It was next ascertained by Monsieur Benoist, who 
 naturally took a leading part in the organization, 
 that every man of the twelve possessed a fire-arm of 
 one kind or another. Then Bill McKay, Mother 
 McKay's son, and two others departed in quest of 
 horses and sleds. The roads were fairly good now, 
 though unpacked. Mother McKay set to work at 
 the packing of provisions for the expedition. She 
 was heart and soul in the enterprise, and would 
 have her interests represented by her son Bill, the 
 worst rascal, hardest fighter and most devoted son 
 in St. John's. She had a hold on some of the small 
 farmers around — in fact, she owned several of the 
 farms — so it was not long before Bill and his com- 
 panions returned, eac^ m possession of a horse and 
 sled. The expedition set out at two o'clock of a 
 windless, frosty, star-lit morning. They travelled 
 the roads which John Darling had followed, several 
 days before; but now the mud-holes and quaking 
 bogs were frozen and covered with snow. Bill 
 McKay drove the sled that led the way at a pace 
 that gave the following teamsters all they could do 
 to keep in touch; but willing hands manned the 
 
Mary At Work Again 
 
 288 
 
 whips and hammering sled-stakes. Now and again 
 one or another of the raiders would fall off a sled 
 and necessitate a halt; and so the poor horses were 
 given a chance, now and again, to recover some- 
 thing of their lost wind. 
 
 Back in Chance Along things were going briskly. 
 Mary Kavanagh learned from John Darling some- 
 thing of the history of the diamond and ruby neck- 
 lace and made up her mind to return it to the sailor. 
 She wanted to clean the harbor of everything of 
 the kind — of everything that came up from the sea 
 in shattered ships, except food. She saw the hands 
 of the saints in salvaged provisions, but the hand 
 of the devil himself in wrecked gold and jewels — 
 and wrecked women. She decided to arrange the 
 recovery of the necklace and the bully, and the es- 
 cape of the strangers for that very night; and her 
 decision was sealed, a few hours later, by the skip- 
 per's behavior. It was this way with the skipper. 
 He felt shame for liaving kept the girl in the har- 
 bor against her prayers, and for the lies he had 
 told her and the destruction of the letters ; but he 
 was neither humble nor rontrite. Shame was a 
 bitter and maddening emot.on for one of his na- 
 ture. He brooded over this shame, and over that 
 
284 
 
 The Harbor Master 
 
 aroused by the girl's scorn, until his finer feelings 
 toward her were burned out and blown abroad like 
 ashes. His infatuation lost its fine, ennobling ele- 
 ment of worship, and fell to a red glow of desire 
 of possession. He forced his way to Flora's room, 
 despite the protests of Mother Nolan. 
 
 •• To-morrow ye'll be mine or ye'U be his," he 
 said, staring fixedly at the frightened girl. " To- 
 morrow mornin' him an' me bes a-goin' to fight for 
 ye _ an' the man what lives will have ye! Ye put 
 the name o' coward on to me — but I hain't no 
 coward! I fights fair — an' the best man wins. I 
 could kill him now, if I was a coward." 
 
 Flora's face was as white as the pallid figure on 
 the cross above the chimney. 
 
 " You arc a coward! — ?.nd a beast' " she cried 
 from dry lips. " If you kill him my curse shall be 
 with you until your dying day — and afterwards — 
 
 forever." 
 
 " Then ye can tell him to go away, an' I won't 
 
 be killin' him," said the man. 
 
 " Tell him — to go — away? " 
 
 '• Aye — that ye've no need o' him. Send him 
 away. Tell him ye means to marry wid me." 
 
 " Nc, whispered the girl. And then, " Do you 
 
Mary At Work Again 
 
 285 
 
 n.ean to — give him a chance? — to fight him 
 fair?" 
 
 " Aye, man to man — an' as sure as the divil 
 fetched him to <^hance Along I'll kill him wid these 
 hands! An' then — an' then ye'U be mine — an' 
 when Father McQueen comes in June 'twill be 
 time for the weddin' — for that part o' it. Ye've 
 put the names o' coward an' beast on to me — an' 
 by Saint Peter, ye'll live to change them names or 
 to know them ! " 
 
 Some color came back to Flora's cheeks and her 
 clear eyes shone to their depths. 
 
 "If you fight fair," she said, faintly but stead- 
 ily, " he will gfve you what you deserve. I am not 
 afraid. God will be with him — and he is the better 
 man!" 
 
 The skipper laughed, then stooped suddenly, 
 caught her in his arms and kissed ^ler on the lips. 
 Next moment he fit '' her aside and dashed from 
 the room, almost ov arning Mother Nolan in his 
 flight. At the door of the kitchen he came face to 
 face with Mary Kavanagh. He tried to pass her 
 vvithout pausing, but she stood firm on the threshold 
 and held him for a moment or two with her strong 
 arms. Her gray eyes were blazing. 
 
 •fift''*'^fln_?ife«iK-:^'; 
 
286 
 
 The Harbo. Master 
 
 " I sees the Black One a-ridin' on yer back ! " 
 she cried, in a voice cf horror and disgust. " I 
 sees his face over yer shoulder— aye, an* his arm 
 around yer neck like a rope ! " 
 
 He looked at her for a moment, and then quickly 
 away as he forced her violently aside. 
 
 "An' the hell-fire in yer eyes!" she cried. 
 The skipper was free of her by then and out of 
 the house ; but he turned and stared at her with .. 
 haggard face and swiftly dulling eyes. 
 
 " The curse bes on me ! " he whispered. " It 
 bes in me .itals now — like I had kilt him al- 
 ready." 
 
 The expression of the girl's face changed in a 
 flash and she sprang out and caught one of his 
 hands in both of hers. 
 
 " Kill him ? Ye hain't meanin' to kill him, Denny 
 Nolan ? " she whispered. 
 
 " Aye. but I bes, curse or no curse," he said, 
 dully. " To-morrow mornin' I bes a-goin' to kill 
 him — man to man, in fair figlit." 
 '' But for why, Denny?" 
 *• For the girl." 
 
 " Bes ye lovin' her so desperate, Denny? " 
 •' Nay, nay, lass, not now. But I wants her ! 
 
Mary At Work Again 
 
 287 
 
 An' she puts the name o' ber.st on to me an' the 
 nature o' beast into me, like a curse ! " 
 
 "To-morrow? An' ye'U fight him fair, 
 Denny?" 
 
 " Aye, to-morrow — man to man — wid empty 
 hands ! " 
 
 The girl turned and entered the house, and the 
 skipper went up the path at the back of tb.e harbor 
 and wandered over the snowy barrens for hours. 
 It was dusk when Bill Brennen found him. 
 
 " Skipper," said Bill, " the lads bes at it again. 
 They wants to know when ye'U make a trip to St. 
 John's wid the jewels? — an' where the jewels bes 
 gone to, anyhow ? " 
 
 "Jewels!" cried the skipper — "an' the entire 
 crew o' 'em fair rotten wid golc'! I'll dig up the 
 jewels from where we hid 'em an' t'row *em into 
 their dirty faces — an' they kin carry 'em to St. 
 John's an' sell 'em to suit themselves, the squid ! " 
 
 So he and Bill Brennen tramped off to the north- 
 ward; and Mary Kavanagh was aware of their 
 going. 
 
 Mary was busy during their absence. She un- 
 earthed the necklace, and with it and the key from 
 behind the skipper's clock, made her way to the 
 
288 
 
 The Harbor Master 
 
 st»re. It was dark by now, with stars in the sky 
 and a breath of wind from the south and south-by- 
 wcst The folks were all in their cabins, save the 
 skipper and Bill Brennen, who were dl^jging the 
 harbor's cache of jewelry from the head of a thicket 
 of spruce-tuck. She let herself into the store and 
 freed John Darling without striking a light. She 
 placed the casket in his hand. 
 
 " The skipper has yer pistols in his own pocket, 
 so I couldn't git 'em for ye," she whispered.' 
 "Now sneak up to the back, quick. Ye'll find 
 yer lass there, a-waitin' for ye wid old Mother 
 Nolan. Git north to the drook where yer man bes, 
 an' lay down there, the three o' ye, till I fetches 
 yer bully. Then git out, an' keep out, for the love 
 o' mercy! Step lively, captain! The skipper bes 
 out o' the harbor this minute, but he bes a-comin' 
 home soon. Get along wid ye quick, to the top o' 
 the cliff." 
 
 She left him before he had an opportunity to 
 even try to thank her. He followed her to the 
 door, walking stiffly, paused outside for long 
 enough to get his bearings, then closed the door 
 noiselessly, turned the key in the lock, withdrew 
 it and dropped it in the snow. Then he made his 
 
Mary At Work Again 289 
 
 way cautiously to the back of the harbor and up 
 the twisting path as fast as he could scramble. At 
 the top, crouched behind a boulder, beside old 
 Mother Nolan, he found Flora. 
 
 Neither the girl nor the man heard the old 
 woman's words of farewell. They moved north- 
 ward along the snowy path, hand in hand, run- 
 ning with no more sound than slipping star- 
 shadows. So for a hundred yards; and then the 
 speed began to slacken, and at last they walked. 
 They reached the black crest where the brushwood 
 of the drook showed above the level of the barrens. 
 Here they halted, and Darling whistled guar-ledly. 
 An answering note came up to them from the black- 
 ness below and to seaward. Darling stepped down, 
 parted the young birches and twisted elders with 
 one arm and drew Flora into the cover. She stum- 
 bled, saved herself from falling by encountering his 
 broad chest — and then she put up both arms and 
 slipped them about hi- neck. 
 
 " My God ! Do you mean it. Flora? " he whis- 
 pered. 
 
 For answer, her arms tightened about his neck. 
 He lowered his head slowly, staring at the pale 
 oval of her face — and so their lips met. 
 
290 
 
 The Harbor Master 
 
 Another cautious whistle from below broug-ht 
 them to a realization of their surroundings. They 
 continued liieir downward journey and presently 
 found George Wick. George was in a bad humor. 
 He was cold, and he grumbled in cautious growls. 
 
 "So ye come for a girl, did ye? Well, there 
 bes another girl in this harbor I'd like to be fetchin' 
 away wid me! Aye, here she bes now, wid the 
 bully." 
 
 Mary sprang ashore. 
 
 " Here ye be. Git yer gear aboard quick, an' 
 away wid ye," she wfhispered, "an' don't forget 
 yer promise." 
 
 " I'll be comin' back for ye, one o' these days," 
 said George Wick. 
 
 " Then ye needn't, for ye hain't wanted," replied 
 Mary. 
 
 John and Flora scarcely heard her; but George 
 gave ear until the last swish and rustle of her ascent 
 through the brush died away. Then he fell to load- 
 ing the bully. Five minutes later they took their 
 places aboard, pushed out of the little cove, stepped 
 the mast and spread the red sail. 
 
 Flora sat in the stern-sheets. John managed the 
 tiller with his left hand. The light breeze wafted 
 
Mary At Work Again 
 
 391 
 
 them northward. At last George Wick broke the 
 silence. 
 
 " Hark! What bes that? " he exclaimed. 
 "It sounded like gun-shots," said John, indif- 
 ferently. 
 
 " I suppose that mad skipper is fighting with his 
 men," said Flora — and the breath of her words 
 touched the sailor's cheek. 
 
CHAPTER XX 
 
 FATHER MCQUEEN'S RETURN 
 
 Black Dennis Nolan and Bill Brennen brought 
 the loose jewels from their hiding-place to the har- 
 bor. The skipper carried the dispatch-box, and 
 in his pockets he had John Darling's neat little 
 pistols, each good for two shots — the latest thing 
 in pistols at that time. They went straight to 
 Cornelius Lynch's cabin, where the leading grum- 
 blers were assembled. The skipper was about to 
 kick open the door and stuflF the jewels into their 
 insatiable maws when a guarded, anxious voice at 
 his elbow arrested him with one foot drawn back. 
 The voice was that of Mary Kavanagh. 
 
 " Whist ! " said Mary. " Bes thut yerself, Denny 
 Nolan?" 
 
 " Aye, sure it be," returned the skipper. 
 
 " I heard a sound on the cliff, to the north," said 
 Mary. " The sound o' a horse nickerin' an' men 
 cursin' it for the same." 
 
 "A horse?" queried the skipper. And then, 
 
 292 
 
FatherMcO-ecn's Return 
 
 ^ «98 
 
 "On the cliff to the north? Where the divil has 
 ye been to, Mary Kavanagh ? " 
 
 '• Whist! Hark to that! " exclaimed the girl. 
 
 " ^^^' s^'PP*'"' 'twas somethin' up back yonder " 
 whispered Bill Brennen. " It sounde. mcself 
 like a gun slammin' agin a rock." 
 
 " VVould it be that stranger lad? <^^ueried Den- 
 nis, anxiously. 
 
 " Nay, he bes safe enough," said Mary. " But 
 hark to that, now! There bes a whole crew up 
 yonder." ^ 
 
 The skipper opened Cornelius Lynch's door, but 
 not with his foot as he had formerly intended. 
 
 ' r.' n out an' git yer guns, men. There bes 
 trouble a-foot." he said, quietly. Then, laying a 
 hand on Mary's shoulder, he whispered. " Git Pat 
 an' yerself to my ho ,se an' fasten up the doors. It 
 bes a strong house, lass, an' if there bes any gunnin' 
 ye'll be safe there." 
 
 (( 
 
 Ye needn't be worryin' for Flora Lockhart, 
 
 enour' - - herself an' 
 
 said Mary. " She bes safe . 
 
 the captain — a-sailing away in th^ b^ily -,;: half- 
 hour back." 
 
 The skipper's hand tightened ..,r U, sfio M.f • 
 but she did not flinch. In the lighi .n, th 
 
 >en 
 
iT-- 
 
 294 
 
 The Harbor Master 
 
 door he stared at her — and she stared back at him, 
 glance for glance. There was astonishment in his 
 eyes rather than anger, and a question rather than 
 condemnation. He was about to speak when the 
 smashing report of a musket rang out from the 
 slope and a slug splintered the edge of the open 
 door. The skipper pushed Mary away from him. 
 
 " Run ! Run to the house ! " he cried. 
 
 Mary vanished into the darkness. Men clustered 
 around the skipper, sealing-guns, pistols, cutlasses 
 and clubs in their hands, their grumblings forgotten 
 in the prospect of a fight. The open door was shut 
 with a bang. 
 
 " Follow me ! " shouted the skipper, dropping the 
 dispatch-box of loose jewels to the trampled snow 
 and pulling his pistols from his pocket. 
 
 The men of Chance Along and Pierre Benoist's 
 ruffians met at the foot of the steep slope, among 
 the upper rank of cabins. All doubts as to the in- 
 tentions of the visitors were dispelled from the 
 skipper's mind by a voice shouting, " Git inside the 
 houses, lads, an' pull up the floors. There bes 
 where ye'll find the stuff. Git into the big house. 
 It be fair full o' gold an' jewels." 
 
 The voice was that of Dick Lynch. The skipper 
 
Father McQueen's Return 
 
 295 
 
 knew it, and his pistols flashed and banged in his 
 hands. 
 
 The light of the stars, dimmed by a high, thin 
 veil of mist, was not good enough to fight scientif- 
 ically by. After the first clash it was almost im- 
 possible to know friend from foe at the length of 
 an arm. Single combats, and cursing knots of 
 threes and fours, staggered and swatted among the 
 little dwellings. The work was entirely too close 
 for gun-work, and so the weapons were clubbed and 
 the affair hammered out like hot irons on an anvil. 
 
 After ten minutes of it the skipper found him- 
 self in front of his own door, with a four-foot stick 
 of green birch in his hands, and something wet 
 and warm trickling from his forehead into his left 
 eye. Three men were at him. Bill McKay was one 
 of them and Pierre Benoist another. McKay 
 fought with a clubbed musket, and the French sailor 
 held a dirk in one hand and an empty pistol in the 
 other. The third prodded about in the background 
 with a cutlass. He seemed to be of a retiring dis- 
 position. 
 
 The skipper defended his position heroically; but 
 after two minutes of it the musket proved heavier 
 than the club of birch, and he received a crack on 
 
296 
 
 The Harbor Master 
 
 his left shoulder that put one arm out of action 
 The Frenchman ducked and shpped in ; but the skip- 
 per s boot on his collar-bone set him back for a 
 moment and sent the knife tinkling to the ground 
 But the same movement, thanks to the little wad 
 of snow on the heel of his boot, brought tl.. skipper 
 to the flat of his back with a bone-shaking slam 
 The clubbed musket swung up -and then the door 
 flew open above his upturned face, candle-light 
 flooded over him and a sealing-gun flashed and bel- 
 lowed. Then the threatening musket fell of its own 
 weight, from dead hands -and the skipper went 
 to sleep with more stars twirling white and green 
 fire across his inner vision than he had ever seen in 
 the sky. 
 
 It was daylight when Black Dennis No:an next 
 opened his eyes. He was in his own bed. He felt 
 very sick in the stomach, very light in the head 
 very dry in the mouth. Old Mother Nolan sat 
 h«,^o .u.. u-j smoking- 
 
 he asked 
 
 Was it ye let off the old gun out the door] 
 
 >» 
 
 "Nay, 'twas Mary done it." replied Mother 
 Nolan, blinking her black eyes at him. 
 " An' where bes Mary now ? " he asked. 
 
Father McQueen^s Return 297 
 
 " In me own bed. Sure, when she was draggin' 
 ye into the house, didn't some divil jab her in the 
 neck wid a great knife." 
 
 The skipper sat up, though the effort spun a pur- 
 ple haze across his eyes, and set a lump of red-hot 
 iron knocking about inside his skull. 
 " Bes she — dead? " he whispered. 
 "Nay, lad, nay, she hain't what ye'd call dead," 
 replied the old woman. 
 
 The skipper rolled to the floor, scrambled to his 
 feet, reeled across the kitchen and into the next 
 room, and sank at the side of Mary's bed. He was 
 done. He could not lift himself an inch higher; 
 but a h.nd came down to him. over the side of the' 
 bed, and touched his battered brow. 
 
 A week later, Mary Kavanagh was able to sit 
 up in Mother Nolan's bed; and the skipper was 
 himself again, at least as far as the cut over i.is 
 eye and the bump on top of his head were con- 
 cerned. 
 
 The skipper and Mother Nolan sat by Mary's 
 bed. The skipper looked older, wiser and less sure 
 of bmself than in the brisk days before the raid. 
 
 " I bes a poor man now." he said. " Sure, them 
 robbers broke t'rough this harbor somethin' des- 
 
298 
 
 The Harbor Master 
 
 perate! Didn't the back o' the chimley look like 
 the divil had been a-clawin' it out? " 
 
 " Quick come and quick go! Ye bes lucky, lad, 
 they didn't sail away wid yer fore-an'-after," said 
 Mother Nolan. 
 
 " Aye, Granny; but it do beat me how ever they 
 come to dig up the kitchen-flor-." 
 
 " Sure, an' they didn't," said Mary. " 'Twas 
 meself done that -an' sent the red an' white dia- 
 monds away wid Flora's man. 'Twas himself ye 
 took 'em from. Denny Nolan." 
 
 " An' a good thing, too," said Mother Nolan 
 "Sure, ye sent all the curses o' Chance Along 
 away together, Mary dear! There bain't no luck 
 m wracked gold, nor wracked diamonds -nor 
 wracked women! Grub an' gear bes our right; 
 but not gold an' humans." 
 
 The skipper gazed at the girl until her eyes met 
 his. 
 
 "Was ye workin' agin me all the time?" he 
 asked, quietly. 
 
 Nay, Denny, but I was workin' for ye — all the 
 time," she whispered. 
 
 " Sure she was." said Mother Nolan, puffin? a^ 
 her pipe. "Aye -an' manys the time t. 
 
 ji. 
 
Father McQueen's Return 299 
 
 me tongue to call her a fool for her trouble, ye was 
 that bewitched an' bemazed, lad." 
 
 The skipper stared at the floor for a long time, 
 in silence. At last he said. " Wid the way ye was 
 workin', Mary, the wonder bes to me what for ye 
 risked the knife in yer neck to save me life from 
 the Frenchman." 
 
 " Denny, ye bes still a fool ! " exclaimed Mother 
 Nolan. " When you bain't one manner o' fool ye 
 bes another! What for? d'ye ask! Well, what 
 for?" 
 
 "Sure, I was only wonderin'," said the man. 
 glancing shyly and hopefully at the girl in the bed. 
 
 
 Father McQueen reached Chance Along early in 
 June. He found plenty of work awaiting him, in- 
 cluding six masses for the newly-dead, and the 
 building of the church. The general tone of the 
 harbor impressed him as being strangely subdued. 
 Even Black Dennis Nolan seemed less vivid and 
 dominant in his bearing; but in spite of this change 
 in him, he refused to put oflF his wedding even for 
 the glory of being married in the new church. 
 
 In spite of a scar on her round, white neck, Mary 
 Nolan was the grandest-looking, sweetest bride that 
 
 :<'tfr/>■'J'^::0^:', 
 
800 
 
 The Harbor Master 
 
 had ever been seen in Chance Along. Denny 
 thought so, and old Ba'^ney Keen said it, and Mother 
 Nolan proved it by admitting that even she herself 
 had not cut such a figure, under similar circum- 
 stances, fifty years ago. And on the morning after 
 the wedding, the skipper and Mary set out on their 
 honeymoon to St. John's, aboard the fore-and-after, 
 with a freight of salvaged cargo under the hatch 
 instead of thiefed jewels and gold. Back in the 
 harbor the men unmoored their skiflfs for the fishing, 
 even as their fathers had done since the first Nolan 
 and the first Leary spied that coast. They grumbled 
 a little, as was their nature; but there was no talk 
 of mutiny or treason. The red tide of greed had 
 ebbed away with the passing of the sense of pos- 
 session, and the fear of bewitchment had faded away 
 with the departure of the innocent witch. 
 
 THE END. 
 
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