The Merry Anne 12

The Merry Anne 12

She was decidedly pretty now. Her weak face was alive with eagerness,

her eyes were dancing. And McGlory, as he looked at her, seemed to feel

something approaching a thrill.

 

There they sat, hearing nothing, seeing nothing, until the brush parted

and Dick stood over them.

 

"Well, Mr. Man," said he, "I hope you're passing a pleasant afternoon

with your friend."

 

Estelle got to her feet first.

 

"We thought maybe you'd spend a few minutes with us to-day," continued

Dick. "You see we can't stay very long."

 

"Who're you talking to?" growled the mate.

 

"I'm a-looking right at you."

 

It was an awkward moment for McGlory. He felt that it was downright

necessary to show his superiority, for it is only by such a show

that women like Estelle are kept constant. On the other hand, even he

understood the danger of openly defying his captain. But the seconds

were flying.

 

"You go back to your schooner, Dick Smiley. You ain't boss here."

 

"Well, by--" Dick checked himself, with a half bow toward Estelle. "I

beg your pardon, my dear. Your friend kind o' surprised me."

 

McGlory flashed a suspicious glance at her.

 

"None o' your jaw now, Smiley. You can do your talking when it's time to

sail. You 'll have to shut up here."

 

"Maybe you 'll be good enough to tell me when you 'll be ready to start,"

suggested Dick, with extravagant politeness.

 

McGlory rumbled an unintelligible reply; and Dick turned again to

Estelle. "Will you excuse him, my dear. You see he's got a previous

engagement with me. But you couldn't hardly blame him for forgetting,

with such a lady friend to talk to."

 

"Look here," McGlory broke out; "you've said enough. You go back to your

schooner where you belong!"

 

"Thanks, I'm going. We're all going. You 'll come with us, my dear?"

 

Estelle, who was plunged in confusion, said nothing, but fell in with

him. And McGlory, fuming, had to follow.

 

The east wind was freshening; the sky was darker. Spencer, who stood

awaiting them on the wharf, shook his head at Dick. "You aren't going to

start now, are you, Cap'n?"

 

"Sure we are."

 

"It's mean business with an east wind. But still McGlory knows the

channel."

 

"McGlory be----!" said Dick, throwing off his ceremonial manner now that

Estelle had escaped to the house. "I'd take her through hell for fifty

cents. Just watch my smoke." Spencer said nothing further. The mate was

ordered up forward; the lines were cast off; Dick took the wheel. And

out they went, with a reckless daring that made Spencer and Pink Harper

smile from different motives.

 

"He's going to butt a hole clean through Middle Island," muttered the

lumberman. But before the words were out, the Merry Anne swung cheerily

about and went skimming along the channel bank. Soon she rounded the

island in safety and disappeared.

 

Not until they were fairly out on Lake Huron did Dick call his mate.

Then he gave up the wheel without a word and stumbled down into the

cabin. His high spirits had given place to weariness and depression;

and, dropping down for a moment on his bunk, he fell asleep.

 

On deck McGlory, with an __EXPRESSION__ of smouldering anger, stood at the

wheel, glancing now at the sails, now at the water, now at the receding

shore. If his eyes could have penetrated the bluffs and the forest, he

would not have been happier. For Estelle, who seemed to be the victim of

her emotions today, was listening to some earnest talk from a boastful

fellow named Roche.

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER V--BURNT COVE

 

 

[Illustration: 0124]

 

DURING the rest of the afternoon, during the evening, on into the

night, Dick's hearty snoring floated up the companionway. At supper-time

McGlory called Ole Larsen to the wheel, and went below. The Swede looked

after him and observed that he took the steps slowly and cautiously,

and was more quiet than usual in the cabin. From the mate his attention

turned to the binnacle. His instructions were to hold the course,

nor'east, pointing into the wind with the sheets hauled close.

Ordinarily he would not have taken the trouble to question any orders

that might have been given him, but the dislike and distrust all the

crew felt for their new mate was stirring in his mind. He took occasion,

when Harper came aft about some work, to beckon him and point to the

compass.

 

"Aye tank we don' go at Mackinaw, no," he said in a half whisper.

 

"Is that the course he gave you?"

 

"Ya-as, dat's her."

 

"I was thinkin' myself it was funny. Near's I can figure, we're pointin'

for Manitoulin Island. Now what in thunder--Look here, Ole--first chance

I get I'm goin' to wake the Cap'n."

 

"Aye tank we do dat, ya-as."

 

They had dropped their voices, but Mc-Glory had heard them. He now

came tiptoeing up the companion steps, wearing an ugly scowl. "Go up

forward," he commanded, addressing Harper.

 

"I was just askin' about the course, Mr. McGlory. It didn't quite seem

to me--"

 

"Go up forward!"

 

Pink hesitated, then he raised his voice. "Cap'n Smiley generally likes

me to wake him when he's slept as long's this."

 

"Go up forward."

 

"Well--"

 

He was starting, but he moved too slowly. McGlory's temper gave way, and

he struck him, with the back of his hand, across the face.

 

"You hit _me!_" The blood rushed into Harper's face; he drew himself up,

his fists contracting, the muscles of his bare forearms knotting. Ole

gazed impassively at the compass, but his fingers were twitching on the

spokes of the wheel; he saw from the __EXPRESSION__ of Harper's eyes that

the boy needed no assistance. For one tense moment, as they stood

there on the sloping deck, a faint light shining on them from the open

companionway, anything seemed possible. Had Mc-Glory been a coward he

would have retreated from the blazing figure before him; but he was not

a coward. Instead of retreating, he stepped forward, gripped Harper's

arm, and whirled him around. "Go up forward!" he said for the fourth

time. And Pink, swallowing hard, went.

 

A gentle sigh escaped the wheelsman. The mate turned on him; but Ole was

gazing out into the dark with an __EXPRESSION__less face. Into the silence

that followed came a gurgling snore from the cabin; if Pink had hoped to

wake the captain, he had failed. And the end of this brief incident was

that McGlory returned below and finished his supper, while the _Merry

Anne_ continued to point nor'east.

 

Towards eleven o'clock the moon rose and showed Duck Island six miles

off the port bow. McGlory was again at the wheel. He now brought her up

still closer to the wind, heading a few points off Outer Duck Island and

skimming the lower edge of Jennie Graham Shoal. Huddled up in the bow,

out of the mate's view, Harper and Larsen were watching out ahead,

pulling at their pipes and occasionally exchanging a whispered word or

two. Linding, the third sailor, lay flat on the deck by the windlass,

his head pillowed on a coil of rope, the regular sound of his breathing

telling that he was asleep. Soon Ole's practised eyes made out a bit of

land far off to port, and he pointed it out to his companion.

 

"What is it?"

 

"Meedle Duck Island, ya-as."

 

A few minutes more and they saw a line of coast dead ahead.

 

"Manitoulin Island?" whispered Pink.

 

"Aye tank."

 

On they went until the shore lay plainly before them in the

moonlight,--on until the breeze began to fail them, so close were they

in the shelter of the land. Finally they heard McGlory say in a guarded

voice, "Ready about, up there!" and they sprang to their places.

 

It proved a short tack. Hardly a quarter of an hour later, when the land

had faded but a little way into the indistinct night, they came about

again. This time they ran in so directly for the land that Pink grew

nervous. He stood up, pipe in hand, looking back at the mate, then

forward at the shore. The breeze fell away, but they drifted on through

a mirror of shapes and shadows. The trees of the bank loomed before

them, then, it seemed, around them.

 

Still the _Merry Anne_ drifted on, her wheelsman turning every stray

breath to advantage. She was in a cove now, though how wide it was or

how far it extended the sailors could not tell, so strangely were the

bluffs and the trees reflected in the water. Drifting, however, is lazy

work, and Harper sat down to it and relighted his pipe, At length the

schooner came lazily up into the wind and McGlory ordered the anchor

overboard. Here was a chance to try to wake the Captain, and the

chance was seized; but even the dank and rattle of the chain failed to interrupt the snoring in the cabin.