Part 26

At once Anthony was in motion; softly he stepped through the sand, and climbed the side of the hill. The two men stood with their backs to him, their eyes fixed upon the sea. There lay the brig in the track of the moon; and it was at this they were pointing. When Anthony spoke they turned; and he was amazed to see Tom Horn and Christopher Dent.

"We reached the town beyond at nightfall and crossed the bay in a skiff," said Christopher. "We came to see you; we have a message."

Tom Horn was studying the brig once more.

"I know her well," he said. "She belongs to the Simpsons and has the look of having been rigged by a landsman."

"She's been haunting the coast," said Anthony.

Tom Horn laughed, and he pointed away to the northeast.

"There are the shoals," he said. "There are the white ghosts. That's why the brig's people are here. They know every set of teeth on the coast." He looked at Anthony. "Have they been searching?"

"They have had boats out," said the young man.

Tom Horn nodded.

"Such as they take nothing for granted. No ship is to be seen broken on the bars but they know what a great storm can do; they know how it can rend its victim, and then cover it with the smothering sand."

Anthony frowned out at the brig, lying so peacefully in the white track of the moon.

"They set out to find a wreck, then?" he said.

"A month ago," said Tom Horn. "They manned yonder vessel for no other purpose than to pick and search along the coast. This shoal was one they had well in the front of their minds. And the hulk they hope to sight is that of the _Rufus Stevens_."

All three stood looking out at the vessel across the flattened line of surf.

"What men are aboard her?" asked Anthony.

"Those whom you have in your mind," said the clerk. "They could be no other."

Anthony continued to hold the brig with his eye; his mind was dark and active, and anger was lifting in it.

"Mademoiselle desired that word be brought you," said Christopher to the young man.

"Of this?" said Anthony, and he pointed to the vessel.

"Oh, no. She knows nothing of either the brig or her business," said the little apothecary. "Her message is more urgent than that. It will open your eyes," prophesied Christopher, confidently. He took a letter from his pocket and gave it to Anthony. "But let us go where you can read it quietly," said he. "And afterwards we can talk; for you'll have many questions to ask, I know, and Tom Horn will have a deal of answering to do to satisfy you."

So they descended the dune; a brace of candles were lighted in the cabin, and the three sat down at the table. Anthony read mademoiselle's letter; his muscles grew tight and his blood began to race; he read it once more, then quietly placed it upon the table and, looking at Tom Horn, said:

"Tell me what you have told her."

The clerk once more stated his beliefs, and his reasons for holding to them; Christopher added those details which escaped the other; Anthony listened, and his eyes glowed; a slow smile crept to the corners of his mouth, but got no farther.

"Safe!" said he, when the man had done. "Safe, with the cargo unharmed; lying quiet and waiting."

"Yes," said Tom Horn.

"And you can point the nose of a vessel toward this strange sea?"

"I would engage to put you alongside the ship itself," said Tom Horn.

Anthony's eyes narrowed. These were high words, and he was one to be moved little by sounds, no matter how brave. But Tom Horn was peculiar. Inside that odd exterior, a wisdom worked which was not common. Tom Horn, alone, of all who felt the burrowing under Rufus Stevens' Sons, had pointed out the runways of the rats. He had said strange things; and facts had sprung up to bear him out. There was a long silence; and then Anthony said:

"A vessel to make the search! How is one to be had?"

Thrilled, Christopher leaned across the table.

"Mademoiselle bade me say," said he, "that she'll be waiting and will have a ship at her call."

Anthony looked at the little apothecary; then the smile crept forward from the corners of his mouth, and his lips parted in a laugh.

"Mademoiselle grows better and better," he said. He turned a look upon the broad face of his watch, which hung upon the wall. "I have bedding enough for us all," he said. "So let's turn to it and get some sleep. To-morrow we take the track back to the city."

XXXVIII

They were astir early in the morning and had their breakfast. The brig was still in sight, but some distance to the northeast, as Christopher reported after a look through one of the windows. And as they ate Anthony nodded toward the pistol, which still hung upon the wall.

"I have not had occasion to use it," said he. "But, with those gentlemen in the offing, there is no telling what might have come about in the long run."

Tom Horn looked from the weapon to Anthony.

"No man's life is safe if he places it between these villains and their will," he said.

"They are spending a deal of time loitering along the coast," said Christopher. "Of what service would it be to them to find the ruins of a ship piled upon a bar?"

"They would then know that ship's fate," said Tom Horn. "It would be shown to them that they need seek no further."

Christopher looked at the odd clerk with round eyes.

"This, then," said he, "is only a beginning of their search?"

"The prize is a rich one," said Tom Horn. "They'd hunt the seas of the world if they thought they might come upon it."

All that was readily portable of Anthony's effects was carried to the boat which had brought Christopher and Tom to the island; and by mid-morning they hoisted sail and headed for the mainland. Here the baggage was transferred to a wagon, and they were on their way through the barrens, on the first stretch of sand tracks toward the city. By hard traveling they accomplished the distance by the third morning, and Anthony went at once to his lodgings. It was a gorgeous, blowy July day; the sun was in Sassafras Street; the scent of the little gardens round about rose to him as he raised his windows; all the world seemed open before him, and he felt a mounting life in his body that would carry him through it. He was shaving by a window, with a mirror propped against a hat-box, when a knock came upon the door.

"Come in," said Anthony, and Mr. Sparhawk, neat, precise, and looking more like a wise old bird than ever, walked into the room.

"Why, this is a splendid surprise, indeed," said the little gentleman. "I had expected you, it's true, for there was reason to think you'd be attracted back to town; but such immediate action in the matter is quite heartening, and charming."

He shook Anthony's hand, and sat down, crossed his silk-stockinged legs, and his alert gaze ran over the young man from head to foot. The bronzed, rugged health that he saw, the long, powerful muscles under the close-fitting shirt, caused him to nod with approval; the brisk, sure movements and the snapping light of the eyes brought a smile to the little gentleman's face--a smile of assurance and content.

"You had the news of my return very quickly," said Anthony, as he proceeded with his shaving at the window.

"Christopher Dent came in upon me while I was still at breakfast," said Mr. Sparhawk. "A kindly, good soul! I appreciate Christopher very much. And after he left me he was off to Mademoiselle Lafargue with his tidings. He anticipated great excitement there, I know."

"You have heard this theory of Tom Horn's regarding the ship _Rufus Stevens_?" Anthony held the razor suspended as he asked this question, and his soap-covered face was turned toward Mr. Sparhawk.

The precise little gentleman put down his hat carefully; and then he answered:

"Mademoiselle Lafargue brought the matter to my attention some days ago. She attached much value to it."

"And you?" said Anthony.

"I have known Tom Horn a long time," said Mr. Sparhawk. "A very long time. He is a person of strange moods; many look on him as a man distraught, but I have never been convinced that he is so. For, do you see," and Mr. Sparhawk nodded, quite firmly, "though his manner is odd and his method of expression is not usual, there is much matter in his sayings. He has a mind that thinks; though, as I've said before, many do not credit it."

"Have any steps been taken in this matter?" asked Anthony.

Mr. Sparhawk put his head to one side in the way that gave him the bird-like look.

"No doubt you'll be calling at the Lafargues' before the day is out," said he. "And, if so, mademoiselle will tell you what has been done."

Anthony rasped at his beard with a not over-sharp razor.

"I had it in my mind to visit them early in the day," said he.

"Very good," said the old gentleman. "As she knows you've come back to town, no doubt she'll be at home."

Mr. Sparhawk then fell into talk of many things; most of them had to do with the clouded affairs of Rufus Stevens' Sons, and the plans and purposes of those reasonable creditors who had its destiny in charge.

"A deal is due you and Mr. Crousillat for your interest," said Anthony. "You have gone much out of your way to do a kindly thing."

"Why, as to that," said Mr. Sparhawk, "there are many who would do as we have done,--more especially as I have done,--had the same urge induced them forward."

Anthony, glancing over his shoulder, nodded soberly. And Mr. Sparhawk went on to tell all the steps that had been taken to bring some degree of order out of the ruin. It was a bleak, dispiriting catalogue; the track of events wound through gloomy places; there were voids which had been filled with promises; there were moneys paid out of which there was no accounting; there were debts due or owing which had never been written down; there were passages dull with stupidity, or foul with malpractice; and Anthony grew a little sick as he listened; for it was familiar ground; it had broken him before, and he felt it could break him again. He tried to shut his ears to the dull hammering of Mr. Sparhawk's facts. The clever parrying of that little gentleman, or of old Mr. Crousillat, in some close engagements of wits, or their sudden and skilful assault upon some detected plunderer, brought nothing but pain to Anthony's mind; for he could think only of his own struggles and defeats in that same place of gloom, of dismal suspicion, of maddening unreality. He felt as a trapped wolf might feel, brought back to the place of its disaster.

And he wanted no more of it! He fervently wanted no more of it. A struggle he did not mind; indeed, he welcomed it; but it must be a struggle with things seen, with men or events with which one might come in open contact. This ship, now--adrift, lost, crammed with a treasure of merchandise! She was a thing to make his nerves crackle and his blood leap. His mind could value the danger she was in, if the sea held her at all--danger at the hands of wandering or purposeful men, in the crush of winds and seas, in the heart of a vast silence, and a desolation almost impossible to penetrate. With a sound deck under him, a few resourceful hands to carry out his orders, and the far seas ahead! That would be a man's part. He'd rise to that. But to be like a mole, digging, digging in the dark! He'd have no more of it! He could stand no more of it!

Mr. Sparhawk stayed for an hour and talked. The things he said were needful things, though unpleasant; and Anthony, understanding this, tried to bear with them. But, when the little man finally took his leave, the young one drew a deep breath and at once began to change his dress, preparatory to his day's affairs.

Within an hour he was at the Lafargues' lodgings. Both mademoiselle and her father were awaiting him.

"It is generous of you to come back to the city so promptly," said Monsieur Lafargue eagerly.

"Are not my interests involved?" asked Anthony. "When a chance is shown me finally to accomplish a thing for which I once strove and failed, could I stand still and see it pass?"

"You think, then," said the girl, her eyes shining, "that there _is_ a chance?"

"It is a strange thing," said Anthony. "A strange thing, indeed. But, then, why not? If we stopped because things were not usual, our hands would hang at our sides in all the important turnings of our lives."

"That a ship could live through a storm like that, seems impossible," said Monsieur Lafargue.

"Others did, and came into port," said mademoiselle.

"True." Monsieur Lafargue stroked his shaven chin. "True, indeed. But I cannot forget the _Rufus Stevens_ was already a wreck when seen."

"Her masts were gone," said Anthony. "That is always grave; but it is not necessarily fatal. I have seen vessels so stricken which have lived boldly; I myself was once in a ship so circumstanced; she was battered and beaten by the sea for days; but she held together and sailed many a voyage afterwards."

"Christopher was greatly excited," said mademoiselle, "and he came to me with the story of what Tom Horn had said; he was perplexed and did not know what to believe. And I was in the same state of mind, even after I'd talked to the man himself and written the letter asking you to return. I wanted to believe and accept it all as an actual thing," she said, "for it seemed the only hope left. But it was not until I saw Mr. Sparhawk that my mind became settled."

Anthony looked at her questioningly; he recalled the attitude of that same little gentleman an hour before, the cock of his head, and the tolerant tone with which he spoke of Tom Horn and his theory.

"His disbelief fixed your mind in opposition, then?" said Anthony.

"Disbelief!" The girl laughed, her beautiful teeth flashing. "He was as credulous as a child. He walked the floor; he took great quantities of snuff; he at once began to plan how moneys might be had to equip a vessel to be sent searching the seas."

Anthony also laughed. The cunning of the dapper little fox! Not once had he shown even a trace of actual belief; and yet there he was, mad to set forward, and hoping, Anthony had no doubt, with the best of them!

"The money was easily had; those who had interests in the cargo were willing to chance something; the larger creditors were of a like mind; this was all spoken of secretly, and the sums gathered in the same way. And so there is a small vessel, all ready for sea, lying in Pegg Run; and you are to be her master if you care to undertake the task."

"There is no task in the world at this moment that I am so eager for," said Anthony. "And, thank God, it's one for which I feel fitted. It's not like the mousing, grubbing work I was compelled to do in the counting-room, trying to hold off the things that I see now were bound to come."

They talked of the prospects for an early beginning; of the storing of the vessel, which, so it seemed, was already under way, the chances for slipping out to sea with no one the wiser. And then they left the house and walked north on Water Street until they reached Pegg Run; and the girl pointed out to Anthony a trim little schooner, fit, and fresh with paint, her tall masts telling of a fine spread of sail, and her strong hull bending into the curving sweep of speed. The young man glowed at sight of the craft; she was so like the one he would have selected himself for the work ahead of him that it might well have been his will, acting through another, when she was fixed upon.

"You like her?" asked the girl.

"She's a fine, upstanding craft," said Anthony, "roomy, with plenty of space for a press of wind, and I have no doubt, sails well in most weathers. She'll ride like a duck; I know that buoyant look."

"I'm glad," said mademoiselle. "I tried to please you."

His eyes met hers, and he held them steadily.

"You have pleased me in more than that," said Anthony. "One by one I have been storing the instances away in my mind; some day I shall tell you what they are."

There was an open look in his eye that stopped the speech on her lips: a flush came into her face, and her own eyes were very bright as she turned her head, so that he might not see. The tackle from the schooner's foremast strained and whined through the blocks; some negroes, chanting monotonously, laid their weight against the capstan bars.

"In two days," said the girl, "she will be ready."

"In two days," said Anthony, "she will be gone."

XXXIX

It was in less than two days that the last keg and case was received on board and the last carpenter packed his kit and left the schooner; in the meantime Anthony made calculations as to the hands needed to man her and set about procuring them. Almost the first person he met, at a tavern frequented by sailors in Front Street, was Corkery, who had been mate in Rufus Stevens' Sons' ship _General Stark_. And in an instant Anthony had him at the far end of the bar, a mug of beer before each of them, and was explaining his errand--or as much of it as the occasion seemed to need.

"A crew?" said Corkery; "four men, a cook, a mate? A short voyage and good pay? What ship?"

"The schooner _Roebuck_," said Anthony.

Corkery nodded.

"I know her," he said. "Owned by Crousillat, and lately engaged in the trade with Havana." He took a draft of the beer. "About the mate, now: I'm looking for a ship myself, and this voyage might fit me well if you'd be inclined to have me."

"The papers are waiting for your name," said Anthony, his eyes snapping, for he felt the value of the man. "And, now, the others."

"A quiet crew, you say," said Corkery thoughtfully; "one that goes about its affairs, gives its time to handling the ship, and leaves all other matters to its officers. Such should be found readily enough. When do you sail?"

"To-morrow," replied Anthony.

"Where bound?" asked the mate.

"That," said Anthony, "I do not yet know."

Corkery looked surprised; but he took another draft of the good beer and said:

"Put it in my hands, and I'll have your men on board by night."

Willingly Anthony did so and gave himself to other matters. Late in the day he had his effects carried to the wharf in Pegg Run and placed on board. At almost the same time Tom Horn arrived with his bedding in a roll, and his other belongings in a stout chest. He looked into Anthony's cabin, after stowing these, and nodded approval of the little array of muskets and pistols and stout hangers which he saw on the wall.

"The forehanded man is the least likely to meet danger," he said. "Your grandfather never allowed a ship to sail without plenty of powder and ball, and a musket to a man; his seamen always knew how to load and fire them; and that is an example many a ship-owner could follow with profit."

Corkery reached the vessel by nightfall as he had said he would, and with him were the hands. By the light of a lantern swinging amidships, Anthony watched the men bear their dunnage aboard, inspect their new ship, and then disappear into the forecastle.

"Two of them are off a Dutch ship just in from the East," said Corkery. "I don't know them, but they have the name of good seamen; the other two sailed under me in one of your uncle's brigs a few years ago. The cook is a mulatto, as you've seen, a clever man, and not above lending a hand when required in other matters."

"We should have a carpenter," said Anthony, "but I suppose, if the need of one is pressing, we can make shift between us."

Corkery, as an active mate should, soon had his company divided into watches and employed about the schooner. And, having seen things all right and prospering, Anthony went ashore. At Christopher Dent's he bade the little apothecary good-by.

"Good fortune!" said Christopher. "And a swift return. I have, with discretion, mind you, spoken with several people about the _Roebuck_. She has the name of a lucky ship. So you have that much in your favor, at least. I wish I were going with you; but," wistfully, "I wouldn't be of much use in such an enterprise." He shook Anthony's hand again. "I feel," he said, "that you are to return with great credit. Every night I shall mark the stars that must hang above your ship; and I'll try to read from them what is before you."

When Anthony was shown into the sitting-room of Monsieur Lafargue, mademoiselle was there with her father, and Mr. Sparhawk sat comfortably in a big chair. Some trunks, corded and ready, rested near the head of the stairs.

"Well," said Mr. Sparhawk, after the visitor had been greeted and had taken a chair. "You are busy making ready, I suppose?"

"The company is aboard," said Anthony. "And we'll drop down the river with the next tide."

Mr. Sparhawk applauded this news with soft pattering hands.

"Brisk work!" praised he. "Oh, excellent!"

"When does the tide turn?" asked Mademoiselle Lafargue.

"At three in the morning," said Anthony.

"You will have time for a few hours' sleep," said Monsieur Lafargue to mademoiselle. "But your baggage had better be sent aboard at once."

Anthony looked from one to the other; then he turned his gaze upon Mr. Sparhawk. The little gentleman spoke in his most persuasive voice.

"I trust," said he, "that the _Roebuck_ is as roomy as she looks, and that you have managed to set apart quarters that will be reasonably comfortable for mademoiselle."

"For mademoiselle!" said Anthony, astonished.

"Now, God bless my soul!" said Mr. Sparhawk regretfully. "How could I have been so neglectful? I have not told him," to Monsieur Lafargue. "How can you forgive me?" to mademoiselle.

"Not told him!" said mademoiselle, her face crimson.

"I ask your pardon," said Mr. Sparhawk. He waved a hand helplessly. "There is no possible excuse that I can offer." For all he seemed so distressed, there was, so Anthony thought, a gleam at the back of his eye that was self-possessed enough. "We had arranged it all between us," said Mr. Sparhawk to Anthony, "that Mademoiselle Lafargue was to sail with you; and it was further arranged that I make you acquainted with our purpose, which, stupidly enough, I have not done."