by Holman Day
VI ~ AND WE SAILED
O Johnny's gone to Baltimore To dance upon that sanded floor. O Johnny's gone for evermore; I'll never see my John no more! O Johnny's gone! What shall I do? A-way you. H-e-e l-o-o-o! O Johnny's gone! What shall I do? Johnny's gone to Hilo. --Old Hauling Song.
The taciturn secretary fumbled his way forward and delivered to CaptainMayo a little packet securely bound with tape.
"Orders from Mr. Marston that you take these ashore, yourself. They areimportant telegrams and he wants them hurried."
The master called his men to the dinghy, and they rowed him away throughthe fog. It was a touchy job, picking his way through that murk. Hestood up, leaning forward holding to his taut tiller-ropes, and moreby ears than his eyes directed his course. A few of the anchored craft,knowing that they were in the harbor roadway, clanged their bellslazily once in a while. Yacht tenders were making their rounds, carryingparties who were paying and returning calls, and these boats wereavoiding each other by loud hails. Small objects loomed largely andlittle sounds were accentuated.
The far voice of an unseen joker announced that he could find his waythrough the fog all right, but was afraid he had not strength enough topush his boat through it.
But Mayo knew his waters in that harbor, and found his way to the wharf.His real difficulties confronted him at the village telegraph office.The visiting yachtsmen had flooded the place with messages, and theflustered young woman was in a condition nearly resembling hysteria. Shewas defiantly declaring that she would not accept any more telegrams.Instead of setting at work upon those already filed she was spending hertime explaining her limitations to later arrivals.
Captain Mayo stood at one side and looked on for a few moments. A gentlenudge on his elbow called his attention to an elderly man with stringywhiskers, who thus solicited his notice. The man held a folded papergingerly by one corner, exhibiting profound respect for his minuteburden.
"You ain't one of these yachting dudes--you're a skipper, ain't you?"asked the man.
"Yes, sir."
"Well, then, I can talk to you, as one officer to another--and glad tomeet one of my own breed. I'm first mate of the schooner _Polly_. Mr.Speed is my name."
Captain Mayo nodded.
"And I need help and advice. This is the first tele-graft I ever had inmy hands. I'd rather be aholt of an iced halyard in a no'easter! I'vebeen sent ashore to telegraft it, and now she says she won't stick itonto the wire, however it is they do the blasted trick."
Captain Mayo had already noticed that the messengers from the yachtswere killing time by teasing the flustered young woman; it wasgood-humored badinage, but it was effectively blocking progress at thatend of the line.
He felt a "native's" instinctive impulse to go to the relief of theyoung woman who was being baited by the merrymakers; the responsibilityof his own errand prompted him to help her clear decks. But he waited,hoping that the yachtsmen would go about their business.
"From the _Polly_, Mr. Speed?" he inquired, amiably. "Is the Polly inthe harbor? I didn't notice her in the fog."
"Reckon you know her, by the way you speak of her," replied thegratified Mr. Speed.
"I ought to, sir. She was built at Mayoport by my great-grandfatherbefore the Mayo yards began to turn out ships."
"Well, I swanny! Be you a Mayo?"
The captain bowed and smiled at the enthusiasm displayed by Mr. Speed.
"By ginger! that sort of puts you right into _our_ fambly, so to speak!"The mate surveyed him with interest and with increasing confidence. "I'min a mess, Cap'n Mayo, and I need advice and comfort, I reckon. I washeaded on a straight tack toward my regular duty, and all of a sudden Ifound myself jibed and in stays, and I'm there now and drifting. Seeingthat your folks built the _Polly_, I consider that you're in the fambly,and that Proverdunce put you right here to-night in this telegraftoffice. Do you know Cap'n Epps Candage?"
Mayo shook his head.
"Or his girl, Polly, named for the _Polly?_"
"No, I must confess."
"Well, it may be just as well for ye that ye don't," said Oakum Otie,twisting his straggly beard into a spill and blinking nervously. "ThereI was, headed straight and keeping true course, and then she looked atme and there was a tremble in her voice and tears in her eyes--and thenext thing I knowed I was here in this telegraft place with this!" Heheld up the folded paper and his hand shook.
Captain Mayo did not understand, and therefore he made no remarks.
"There was a song old Ephrum Wack used to sing," went on Mr. Speed,getting more confidential and making sure that the other men in the roomwere too much occupied to listen. "Chorus went:
"I ain't afeard of the raging sea, Nor critters that's in it, whatever they be. But a witch of a woman is what skeers me!
"There I've been, standing by Cap'n Epps in the whole dingdo, and shegot me one side and looked at me and says a few things with a quiver inher voice and her eyes all wet and shiny and"--he paused and looked downat the paper with bewilderment that was rather pitiful--"and I walkedright over all common sense and shipboard rules and discipline andeverything and came here, fetching this to be stuck on to the wire, orwhatever they do with telegrafts. But," he added, a waver in his tones,"she is so lord-awful pretty, I couldn't help it!"
Still did Captain Mayo refrain from comment or question.
"The question now is, had I ought to," demanded Mr. Speed. "I'm takingyou into the fambly on my own responsibility. You're a captain, you're anative, and I need good advice. Had I ought to?"
"I'm afraid you'll have to excuse me, sir. The matter seems to beprivate, and, furthermore, I don't know what you're talking about."
"She says it's to the milliner so that the milliner will hold the jobopen. But I'm suspicioning that it's roundabout to the beau that's inlove with her. That's the style of women. Cap'n Epps shanghaied her toget her away from that fellow. Now she has got it worked around so thatshe is going back. But there's a beau in it instead of a milliner. Shewouldn't be so anxious to get word to a milliner. That's my idee, and Ireckon it's yours, too."
"I really have no ideas on the subject," returned Captain Mayo. "Butif you have promised a young lady to send a telegram for her I wouldcertainly keep that promise if I were in your place."
The next moment he regretted his rather impetuous advice, for Mr. Speedslapped the paper against a hard palm and blurted out: "That's all Iwanted! Course and bearings from an a-number-one adviser. New, how'll Igo to work to send this thing?"
"I have been figuring on that matter for the last few minutes, myself,"acknowledged the captain. "It's about time to have a little action inthis place."
He was obliged to elbow his way through the group of men who surroundedthe telegraph operator. Oakum Otie followed on his heels, resolved tostudy at close range the mystery of telegraphing, realizing what heneeded for his own instruction.
"These telegrams are important and they must go at ore, madam," Mayoinformed the flustered young woman.
"I can't send them. I am bothered so much I can't do anything," shestammered.
"Oh, forget your business, skipper," advised one of the party.
"It is not my business, sir." He laid the packet of messages before theoperator on her little counter and tapped his finger on them. "They mustgo," he repeated.
"In their turn," warned the yachtsman, showing that he resented thisintrusion. "And after the party is over!"
"I intended to confine my conversation to this young lady," said Mayo.He turned and faced them. "But I have been here long enough to see thatyou gentlemen are interfering with the business of this office. Perhapsyour messages are not important. Mine are."
The yachtsman was not sober nor was he judicious. "Go back to your job,young fellow," he advised. "You are horning in among gentlemen."
"So am I," squawked Mr. Speed, with weather eye out for clouds of anysort.
Captain Mayo
gave his supporter a glance of mingled astonishment andrelish. "We'd better not have any words about the matter, gentlemen,''he suggested, mildly.
"Certainly not," stated the spokesman. "If you'll pass on there'll be nowords--or anything else."
"Then we'll dispense with words!" The quick anger of youth flared inMayo. The air of the man rather than his words had offended deeply."You'd like to have this room to yourself so that you can attend to yourbusiness, I presume?" he asked the operator.
"Yes, I would."
Oakum Otie laid his folded paper upon the packet of Captain Mayo.
"You will leave the room gentlemen," advised the captain.
Mr. Speed thrust out his bony elbows and cracked his hard fiststogether. "I have never liked dudes," he stated. "I have been brought upthat way. All my training with Cap'n Epps has been that way."
"How do you fit into this thing?" demanded one of the yachtsmen.
"About like this," averred Mr. Speed. He grabbed the young man by bothshoulders and ran him out into the night before anybody could interfere.Then Mr. Speed reappeared promptly and inquired, "Which one goes next?"
"I think they will all go," said the captain.
"Come on," urged one of the party. "We can't afford to get into a brawlwith natives."
"You bet you can't," retorted Oakum Otie. "I hain't hove bunches ofshingles all my life for nothing!"
Mayo said nothing more. But after the yachtsmen had looked him over theywent out, making the affair a subject for ridicule.
"Hope I done right and showed to you that I was thankful for goodadvice," suggested Mr. Speed, seeking commendation.
"Just a bit hasty, sir."
"Maybe, but there's nothing like handing folks a sample just to show upthe quality of the whole piece."
"I thank you--both of you," said the grateful operator.
"You'd better lock your door," advised Mayo. "Men are thoughtless whenthey have nothing to do except play."
"I am so grateful! And I'm going to break an office rule," volunteeredthe girl. "I shall send off your telegrams first."
"And I hope you can tuck that little one in second--it won't takeup much room!" pleaded Oakum Otie. "It's to help an awful prettygirl--looks are a good deal like yours!"
"I'll attend to it," promised the young woman, blushing.
Outside in the village street Mr. Speed wiped his rough palm against theleg of his trousers and offered his hand to the captain. "I'll have tosay good-by to you here, sir. I've got a little errunting to do--fig o'terbacker and a box of stror'b'ries. I confess to a terrible tooth forstror'b'ries. When the hanker ketches me and I can't get to stror'b'riesmy stror'b'ry mark shows up behind my ear. I hope I have done right insending off that tele-graft for her--but it's too bad that a landlubberbeau is going to get such a pretty girl." Then Oakum Otie sighed andmelted away into the foggy gloom.
When Captain Mayo was half-way down the harbor, on his way back to theyacht, he was confronted by a spectacle which startled him. The fogwas suddenly painted with a ruddy flare which spread high and flamedsteadily. His first fears suggested that a vessel was on fire. The_Olenia_ lay in that direction. He commanded his men to pull hard.
When he burst out of the mists into the zone of the illumination hismisgivings were allayed, but his curiosity was roused.
A dozen yacht tenders flocked in a flotilla near the stern of a rustyold schooner. All the tenders were burning Coston lights, and fromseveral boats yachtsmen were sending off rockets which striped the pallof fog with bizarre colorings.
The stern of the schooner was well lighted up by the torches, and Mayosaw her name, though he did not need that name to assure him of heridentity; she was the venerable _Polly_.
The light which flamed about her, showing up her rig and lines, wasweirdly unreal and more than ever did she seem like a ghost ship.The thick curtain of the mist caught up the flare of the torches andreflected it upon her from the skies, and she was limned in fantasticfashion from truck to water-line. Shadows of men in the tenders werethrown against the fog-screen in grotesque outline, and a spirit crewappeared to be toiling in the top-hamper of the old schooner.
Captain Mayo ordered his men to hold water and the tender drifted closeto the flotilla. He spied a yacht skipper whom he had known when bothwere in the coasting trade.
"What's the idea, Duncan?"
His acquaintance grinned. "Serenade for old Epps Candage's girl--handedto her over his head." He pointed upward.
Projecting over the schooner's rail was the convulsed countenance ofCaptain Candage. Choler seemed to be consuming him. The freakish lightpainted everything with patterns in arabesque; the captain's face lookedlike the countenance of a gargoyle.
Mayo, observing with the natural prejudice of a "native," detectedmockery in the affair. He had just been present at one exhibition of theconvivial humor of larking yachtsmen.
"What's the special excuse for it?" he asked, sourly.
"According to the story, Epps has brought her with him on this trip tobreak up a courting match."
"Well, does that have anything to do with this performance?"
"Oh, it's only a little spree," confessed the other. "It was planned outon our yacht. Old Epps made himself a mucker to-day by sassing some ofthe gents of the fleet, and the boys are handing him a little something.That's all! It's only fun!"
"According to my notion it's the kind of fun that hurts when a girl isconcerned, Duncan."
"Just as serious as ever, eh? Well, my notion is that a littlegood-natured fun never hurts a pretty girl--and they say this one issome looker! Oh, hold on a minute, Boyd!" The master of the _Olenia_ hadturned away and was about to give an order to his oarsmen. "You ought tostop long enough to hear that new song one of the gents on the _Sunbeam_has composed for the occasion. It's a corker. I heard 'em rehearsing iton our yacht."
In spite of his impatient resentment on behalf of the daughter of EppsCandage, Captain Mayo remained. Just then the accredited minstrel ofthe yachtsmen stood up, balancing himself in a tender. He was clearlyrevealed by the lights, and was magnified by the aureole of tinted fogwhich surrounded him. He sang, in waltz time, in a fine tenor:
"Our Polly O, O'er the sea you go; Fairer than sunbeam, lovely as moon-gleam, All of us love thee so! While the breezes blow To waft thee, Polly O, We will be true to thee, Crossing the blue to thee, Polly--Polly! Dear little Polly, Polly--O-O-O!"
He finished the verse and then raised both arms with the gesture of achoral conductor.
"All together, now, boys!"
They sang with soul and vigor and excellent effect.
Ferocity nearly inarticulate, fury almost apoplectic, were expressed bythe face above the weather-worn rail.
"They say that music soothes the savage breast, but it don't look likeit in this case," observed Captain Duncan with a chuckle.
"Clear off away from here, you drunken dudes! I'll have the law on ye!I'll have ye arrested for--for breaking the peace."
That threat, considering the surroundings, provoked great hilarity.
"Give way all! Here comes a cop!" warned a jeering voice.
"He's walking on the water," explained another.
"The man must be a fool," declared Captain Mayo. "If he'd go below andshut up, they'd get tired and leave in a few minutes."
However, Captain Candage seemed to believe that retreat would be greatlyto his discredit. He continued to hang over the rail, discharging ascomplete a line of deep-water oaths as ever passed the quivering lips ofa mariner. Therefore the playful yachtsmen were highly entertained andstayed to bait him still further. Every little while they sang the Pollysong with fresh gusto, while the enraged skipper fairly danced to it inhis mad rage and flung his arms about like a crazy orchestra leader.
Mr. Speed came rowing in his dory, putting out all his strength,splashing his oars. "My Gawd! Cap'n Mayo," he gasped, "I heard 'emhollering 'Oh, Polly!' and I was 'feard she was afire. What's thetrouble
?"
"You'd better get on board, sir, and induce Captain Candage to go belowand keep still. He is fast making a complete idiot of himself."
"I hain't got no influence over him. I ask and implore you to step onboard and soothe him down, sir. You can do it. He'll listen to a Mayo."
"I'd better not try. It's no job for a stranger, Mr. Speed."
"He'll be heaving that whole deckload of shingles at 'em next!"
"Get his daughter to coax him."
"He won't listen to her when he's that fussed up!"
"I'm sorry! Give way men!"
His rowers dropped their oars into the water and pulled away withevident reluctance.
"Better stay and see it out," advised Captain Duncan.
"I don't care much for your show," stated Mayo, curtly.
The cabin curtains were drawn on the _Olenia_, and he felt especiallyshut away from human companionship. He went forward and paced up anddown the deck, turning over his troubled affairs in his mind, but makingpoor shift in his efforts to set anything in its right place.
There were no indications that the serenading yachtsmen were becomingtired of their method of killing time during a fog-bound evening. Theyhad secured banjos and mandolins, and were singing the Polly song withbetter effect and greater relish. And continually the hoarse voice ofthe _Polly's_ master roared forth malediction, twisted into new forms ofprofanity.
But Captain Mayo, pacing under the damp gleam of the riding-light, paidbut little heed to the hullabaloo. He was too thoroughly absorbed inhis own troubles to feel special interest in what his neighbors weredoing. He did not even note that a fog-sodden breeze had begun to puffspasmodically from the east and that the mists were shredding overhead.
However, all of a sudden, a sound forced itself on his attention; heheard the chuckling of sheaves and knew that a sail was being hoisted.The low-lying stratum of fog was still thick, and he could not perceivethe identity of the craft which proposed to take advantage of thesluggish breeze. The "ruckle-ruckle" of the blocks sounded at quickintervals and indicated haste; there was a suggestion of viciousdetermination on the part of the men who were tugging at the halyards.Then Captain Mayo heard the steady clanking of capstan pawls. He knewthe methods of the Apple-treers, their cautiousness, and their leisurelyhabits, and he could scarcely believe that a coasting skipper wasintending to leave the harbor that night. But the capstan pawls began toclick in staccato, showing that the anchor had been broken out.
Protesting shouts from all about in the gloom greeted that signal.
There was no mistaking the hoarse voice of Captain Candage when it wasraised in reply; his tones had become familiar after that evening ofmalediction.
"Dingdam ye, I know of a way of getting shet of the bunch of ye!"
"Don't try to shift your anchorage!"
"Anchorage be hossified! I'm going to sea!" bellowed the master of the_Polly_.
"Down with that hook of yours! You'll rake this whole yacht fleet withyour old dumpcart!"
"You have driv' me to it! Now you can take your chances!"
The next moment Mayo heard the ripping of tackle and a crash.
"There go two tenders and our boat-boom! Confound it, man, drop yourhook!"
But from that moment Captain Candage, as far as his mouth was concerned,preserved ominous silence. The splintery speech of havoc was moreeloquent.
Mayo could not see, but he understood in detail what damage was wroughtupon the delicate fabric of yachts by that unwieldy old tub of aschooner. Here, another boat-boom carried away, as she sluggishly thrusther bulk out through the fleet; there an enameled hull raked by herrusty chain-plate bolts. Now a tender smashed on the outjutting davits,next a wreck of spidery head-rigging, a jib-boom splintered and aforetopmast dragged down. If Captain Mayo had been in any doubt as tothe details of the disasters he would have received full informationfrom the illuminating profanity of the victims.
He knew well enough that Captain Candage was not performing with wilfulintent to do all that damage. In what little wind there was the schoonerwas not under control. She was drifting until she got enough headway tobe steered. In the mean time she was doing what came in her way to do.The _Polly_ had been anchored near the _Olenia_. As soon as her anchorleft bottom the schooner drifted up the harbor. Mayo knew, in a fewminutes, that Candage was bringing her about. An especial outbreak ofsmashing signaled that manouver.
Mayo sniffed at the breeze, judged distance and direction, and then herushed forward and pounded his fist on the forecastle hatch.
"Rout out all hands!" he shouted. "Rouse up bumpers and tarpaulin!"
With the wind as it was, he realized that the schooner would point up inthe _Olenia_'s direction when Candage headed out to sea.
At last Mayo caught a glimpse of her through the fog. His calculationhad been correct. Headed his way she was. She was moving so slowlythat she was practically unmanageable; her apple-bows hardly stirreda ripple, but with breeze helping the tide-set she was comingirresistibly, paying off gradually and promising to sideswipe the bigyacht.
Mayo had a mariner's pride in his craft, and a master's devotion toduty. He did not content himself with merely ordering about the men whocame tumbling on deck.
He grabbed a huge bumper away from one of the sailors who seemeduncertain just what to do; he ran forward and thrust it over the rail,leaning far out to see that it was placed properly to take the impact.He was giving more attention to the safety of the _Olenia_ than he wasto what the on-coming _Polly_ might do to him.
Under all bowsprits on schooners, to guy the headstays, thrustsdownward a short spar, at right angles to the bowsprit; it is called themartingale or dolphin-striker. The amateur riggers who had tinkered withthe Polly's gear in makeshift fashion had not troubled to smooth offspikes with which they had repaired the martingale's lower end. CaptainMayo ducked low to dodge a guy, and the spikes hooked themselves neatlyinto the back of his reefer coat. Mr. Marston had bought excellent andstrong cloth for his captain's uniform. The fabric held, the spikes werewell set, the _Polly_ did not pause, and, therefore, the master of the_Olenia_ was yanked off his own deck and went along.
All the evening Mayo's collar had been buttoned closely about his neckto keep out the fog-damp, and when he was picked up by the spikes thecollar gripped tightly about his throat and against his larynx. His cryfor help was only a strangled squawk. His men were scattered along theside of the yacht, trying to protect her, the night was over all, and noone noted the mode of the skipper's departure.
The old schooner scrunched her way past the _Olenia_, roweling theyacht's glossy paint and smearing her with tar and slime. It was asif the rancorous spirit of the unclean had found sudden opportunity todefile the clean.
Then the _Polly_ passed on into the night with clear pathway to the opensea.