by Hugh Lloyd
Tully smiled in spite of himself. “My now, ain’t that just fine. Ain’tthat just fine, kid. But do ye be knowin’ who’s boss o’ the Central?”
“No. Who?”
“Marty Skinner, actin’ as Buck Flint’s agent, no less.”
“Well, he can see then that my Pop brought me up honest an’ hardworkin’,” said Skippy after a moment’s surprise.
“Sure, to be sure and he can that, but shiverin’ swordfish, don’t ye begoin’ on expectin’ too much from him, kid. D’ye be thinkin’ he’s wise yebe on the payroll?”
“No.”
“Well, now, just ye be waitin’ till he is. Just ye be....”
Skippy did not have long to wait. He had completed his first week’s workin the Central Warehouse when one day he heard a hushed voice passaround the awesome news that “the boss” was coming.
Skinner recognized Skippy as soon as he stepped into the room. Therewere a few questions asked and Skippy trudged back to the _Minnie M.Baxter_ that night with a heavy heart.
Big Joe was all sympathy.
“And what was he sayin’ to ye, kid?”
“He wanted to know how I come to get a job there,” Skippy answereddolefully. “Wanted to know how I had nerve enough an’ said I was thereas a spotter for my father’s gang probably. An’ before he finished hesaid it was lucky there hadn’t been a robbery there or he’d handed meright over to the police then an’ there. _Me_—me that ain’t done him abitta harm an’ that wouldn’t! Gee, Big Joe, ain’t it enough that hehelped put Pop where he is? Can’t he see how _I_ am?”
“None o’ ’em can see anythin’, kid,” Big Joe answered, bitterly. “That’sthe trouble with me and Toby and every man in this Basin. Sure ’tis’cause the likes o’ Skinner can’t see. They don’t even give us a chance,they don’t ’cause we’re river folks. They tell us so much that we’recrooked that we wind up that way whither we want to or not, so we do.They make us be crooked. And now they be startin’ in on you, kid. ’Tis adirty shame, so ’tis.”
“I’ll get some other place,” Skippy was defiant. “They’re not gonna makeme crooked when I don’t wanna be.”
“Skippy, kid,” thought Tully from the depths of his river front wisdom,“I ain’t so sure, I ain’t so sure.” But what he said was: “Sure and thatthey’ll not, Skippy me boy, that they’ll not.”
CHAPTER XXI WHAT NEXT?
Weary week after weary week passed for Skippy until the winter monthshad come and gone. March arrived, cold, blustery and disappointing, forhe hadn’t yet been able to hold a job longer than it took his employersto find out just who their office boy was. And as gossip spreads quicklyalong the river front, the discouraged boy seldom drew more than a fewdays’ pay at a time.
He had learned upon being dismissed from his last job the reason whyemployers had no use for his services. He demanded to know.
“Is it ’cause my father’s in prison?” he asked wistfully. “’Cause if itis nobody is fair in the world. You’ve heard, I bet, that lots ofinnocent people are in jail so can’t you believe maybe my father couldbe one of them? And anyway, does that prove that I’m....”
The employer, thus confronted, protested.
“No,” he said in that self-righteous tone that was beginning to wear onSkippy’s nerves, “we think that you, yourself, mean to be honest but weknow that you can’t hold out long against such home conditions as theBasin offers. A wage such as a boy like you with your limited educationcan earn isn’t enough to provide you with all you want. And sooner orlater, your association with a person like Big Joe Tully will have itseffect on you.”
“My Pop was gonna send me to school so’s I could get educated,” Skippyprotested, “but anyway I’m honest an’ I’m gonna stay honest, no matterwhat you think. Besides, Big Joe’s tried to live straight all thiswinter for my sake, but are you an’ everybody else I’ve tried to workfor tryin’ to help him? No, nobody won’t even give him a job so he canstay straight. An’ now you won’t let me stay ’cause I live with him,because you’re afraid....”
“My dear boy,” the employer interposed patronizingly, “can you blame us?Tully has served a jail sentence for robbing our warehouses. How can webe certain that he won’t do it again? Or that he won’t use your positionof trust in our offices to learn more easily what goods we have in ourwarehouses that he can steal? What assurance can you give us that hedon’t do that when he gets tired treading the straight and narrow path?None. Absolutely none! No, we warehouse owners have been too long awarethat it is you thieving river people who are responsible for ourtremendous losses every year. And so we maintain that, once a thief,always a thief!”
Skippy was wounded and bitter. His full, generous lips curledsardonically.
“Then it ain’t any use to try to make you understand,” he said bravely.“You warehouse people complain that we’re thieves an’ you make usthieves just like you’re tryin’ to make me one by keepin’ me outa jobsso’s I can’t make an honest livin’. An’ anyway, if the only way I couldhold a job is to quit Big Joe then I won’t do it! I’d rather _be_ athief, yes I would! He saved my life and he’s helped my Pop ... oh,what’s the use!”
He slammed the door behind him and rushed home to find Big Joe with hisfaithful, smiling face. Plank after plank he hurried over, connectingthe barges, and at last he crossed the deck of the _Dinky O. Cross_,waved a greeting to the smiling Mrs. Duffy and whistled for Mugs when hereached the plank of the _Minnie M. Baxter_.
“And have ye lost the job, kid?” Big Joe asked when he entered theshanty.
“My last job, Big Joe,” the boy answered smiling ruefully. “You wereright about ’em—there ain’t one that’ll gimme a chance. Even you whoain’t always been honest yourself did more than that! You let me try atleast. They know more about you than I did—they know you served time.”
“Sure and that’s why they’re blackballin’ ye, is it? ’Cause ye’restickin’ with me?” His bland face looked dark and ominous. Then as heglanced at the boy’s wistful countenance, his expression softened: “I’mtellin’ ye the truth, kid, whin I say that they railroaded me, so theydid—I was startin’ in honest like you. Office boy. Thin one night thewarehouse was robbed and next mornin’ they accused me o’ workin’ withthe gang—tippin’ ’em off. ’Cause I’d been seen ’round with one o’ theguys what was caught. I got a year, I did, and didn’t have a chance.When I come out I was blackballed and Ol’ Flint took me under. Sufferin’swordfish, sure and I’ve tried twice now to travel on the up and up.When I first got my barge and now. And ’tis no use, ’tis no use.”
“Seems that way,” Skippy murmured, disconsolate. “Now I ain’t gonna try.I’m gonna live an’ eat like other fellers my age. I wanta go to themovies an’ take things up to Pop when I go to see him. Gee, already he’sstartin’ to write to me that the food’s bad up at the big house. So Igotta help him have a little sumpin’ to smile at if he’s gonna be therethe rest of his life! An’ I gotta have money to go to see him—I gottasee him! If they won’t lemme earn it honest—_what else_? Like the mansaid, I don’t know enough to work anywheres else.”
“And ye’ll be wantin’ to quit me, kid? Ye’ll be wantin’ to go away andstart over where they don’t know ’bout river people and all?” Big Joe’sanxiety was pathetic.
“I’m afraid of places too far away from the river,” Skippy admitted. “Iguess I got the river in me like Pop, huh? I ain’t got nerve enough tobreak away. Besides I sorta promised Pop I’d stay by the _Minnie M.Baxter_. S’pose just by a lucky break the governor pardons Pop some day,huh? He’s paid good money for this barge an’ it’s the only home he’sgot. Besides, I don’t wanta quit you, Big Joe—_I couldn’t_!”
And Skippy’s decision stood until Brown’s Basin was no more....
CHAPTER XXII BIG JOE’S IDEA
In May, Big Joe conceived a brilliant idea for making a living.
He cameinto the shanty of the barge with it one balmy noon, for it was embodiedin a large canvas bag which he carried in his big outstretched hand.
“Sure and now we be goin’ to eat, kid, and we be goin’ to live high, andye be goin’ to do all the things ye’ want for Toby,” he said chuckling.
“Stealin’?” Skippy asked, looking worried and wan. “As hard up as webeen, Big Joe, I can’t stand for sneakin’ down the river at night an’climbin’ into warehouse windows. Gee, Pop’d feel fierce if we was caughtan’ I was put in reform school or sumpin’ like that!”
“And d’ye be thinkin’ I ain’t carin’ no more for ye than seein’ yegrabbed for somethin’ like that, me boy? Kid, I been thinkin’ andthinkin’ o’ some way for us to be gettin’ by—some way that no coppercould catch us up on. And if they iver should ’twon’t be you what’d beholdin’ the bag—’twill be me, ’cause I’m the one what’ll do the trick.Do you catch on?”
“What trick, Big Joe?”
“’Tis the stuff I got in this bag, kid,” answered Tully softly. “’Tisground carbon and whin it’s poured in with oil it raises the divil withthim nice engines in rich guys’ boats up at the Riverview Yacht Club.From now on till the end o’ summer they’re takin’ trips—see? Well, sureand Big Joe’s got a good pal what looks out for the boats up there ...he’s told beforehand what rich guy’s goin’ out in his boat, he is ... mypal tells me and I go up there—see? Him and me edge aisy like towardsthe boat and whilst he’s lookin’ out the corners o’ his eye that noone’s comin’, Big Joe uncovers the crank case and ’fore ye could say_scat_, I’m pourin’ me little powder in the breather pipe and sure she’smixin’ with the oil.”
“An’ what then?” Skippy asked, nervous, yet admiring Big Joe’s ingeniousidea.
Big Joe winked, then laughed.
“Sure, I pour the right amount o’ this powder, kid,” he said, “thin Ibeats it off quick and watch the rich guy start, so I do. If ’tispossible, me pal finds out where the guy’s goin’ so’s I can beat it onahead and circle his course so I come up on him by the time his ingine’sdead—see?”
“The powder mixes through the oil an’ up through the engine, huh?”Skippy asked fearfully. “Makes the engine go dead, huh?”
“Sure ’tis ground up like nobody’s business, kid,” Big Joe laughed. “An’I make sure o’ puttin’ in enough so’s I’ll be knowin’ about where theingine goes dead on thim. And thin I chug up to thim all innocent likeand asks do they want help. _Do_ they? Sure they must be towed back so Isays I don’t think I’m their man ’cause I’ll be losin’ businesssomewheres or other—see? And they’re so anxious they’ll be willin’ topay me price, so they will. And I gotta be paid for the loss o’ metime!” He laughed heartily.
“I—I—gee, in a way that’s worse than pulling a warehouse, Big Joe? Itain’t so dangerous, but....”
“Kid, sure I thought ye’d be takin’ on, but I can tell ye it ain’t sobad at all, at all. I’ll be pickin’ out only thim what’s payin’ tin andtwinty grand for their kickers! What’s the cost to thim what throws awayhundreds o’ bucks at a time? And what’s fifty or seventy-five bucks forto be payin’ me for towin’ thim back? Sure ’tis a drop in the bucket,says I. They’ll niver be missin’ it, kid. And we gotta live, you and me,and Toby’s case’s gotta go before the governor some day and that takesmoney too.”
Skippy nodded and Big Joe noticed that the old pinched look had comeback to his thin cheeks.
“Kid, ye can’t be goin’ on like this, you and me!” he pleaded. “Like Isaid ’tis only the big guys—guys what have the heavy sugar. We’ll belayin’ off the others and we’ll be workin’ the different clubs so nobodygets wise. Thim boat tenders’ll go along for a little o’ the split. Soye needn’t be worryin’ that we’re takin’ thim what can’t afford it!Besides they’re mostly rich warehouse guys that won’t give you and methe chance for honest work. Sure and now ye won’t be feelin’ so badabout takin’ it, will ye?”
That decided Skippy. Hunger and privation had dulled his conscience,embittered him against the warehouse owners and he was at last ready tostrike back at his oppressors.
And strange to say, in contemplating the results of this stealthyenterprise, Skippy did not think of the food, nor the movies to which hecould go. He was thinking instead that he would at last have the moneyto pay for his journey up to see his father. For a few golden momentsthe walls of the prison would fade away and Toby would imagine himself afree man. And all because of a breath of river air that his son wouldbring him in his smile.
And for that, Skippy was willing to forget that he hated dishonesty inany form.
CHAPTER XXIII ANOTHER JOB
It was early morning a few days later when Skippy and Tully set out onthe first stage of their enterprise. The inlet was dark and shadowy, andthe sweet soft breath of spring floated about their heads. In its wake,however, came the smell of mud and fish at low tide and the boy was gladto get out into the fresh salt air of the river.
“It’s the only thing that makes me hate the inlet,” he said to Big Joeas they turned up toward the yacht club. “I get feelin’ choked,sorta—you know, sumpin’ like I imagine people feel when they go tojail.”
“Now don’t ye be feelin’ spooky,” Tully admonished. “’Tain’t the spiritfor a job like this. Sure, there’s somethin’ ’bout mentionin’ jail whatgives me the creeps. So don’t be thinkin’ we’ll be gettin’ in anyjams—’tis hard luck, so ’tis.”
“I’m sorry, Big Joe,” said Skippy contritely. “I—I didn’t say it forthat, honest, because even Pop can tell you how the inlet always made mefeel like that. I’m all right when I’m up on the barge; it’s only theinlet makes me feel that way. Just as soon as we strike the river I feelbetter.”
“That’s the talk, me boy. And I’m sorry for jumpin’ on ye so quick. Ithought ye was nervous ’bout this job, so I did.”
“Aw, no,” Skippy protested, but his quivering lip belied his words.
Tully did not see it, however, for he was intent on approaching theyacht club unobtrusively.
“Now if this ain’t a good break,” he said enthusiastically. “There’s aparty o’ three goin’ out on a two days’ fishing trip at Snug Island.She’s called the _Minnehaha_, me pal tells me, and she’s a baby.Twenty-six footer! Guy that owns her is Crosley.”
“Crosley Warehouse where I worked last?” Skippy asked anxiously.
“Sure, and now don’t that beat all! Little Old Lady Luck’s playin’ withus, kid! Sure ’tis a break to make him hand over his bucks or sink inWatson’s Channel!”
“You wouldn’t let ’em do that, Big Joe?” Skippy asked fearfully. “_Youwouldn’t!_”
“Nah, Big Joe ain’t that hard hearted, much as I got it in for thim richbugs. I’ll just be lettin’ thim think I’m doin’ thim a favor not lettin’Watson’s Channel close ’em in, so I will.”
“Do you s’pose Mr. Crosley’ll get wise we’re doin’ it a-purpose?” Skippywas beginning to weaken already.
“And how’ll he be doin’ that, I’m askin’ ye? Me pal tipped me off theybe due at dawn. We’ll be there and gone a half hour afore they show up.So don’t be startin’ worryin’, kid. Leave everythin’ to Big Joe, as ifye didn’t know nothin’ ’bout the business at all, at all. You don’t saynothin’. Be lookin’ dumb if anybody talks to ye.”
“I will,” said Skippy, half-whimsically, and half-frightened. “I’ll be_scared_ dumb so you needn’t worry that I’ll get nervous an’ giveanythin’ away—gee whiz!”
Big Joe laughed, then he said, “Awright, kid, D’ye be knowin’ Skinnerand Crosley be pals?”
“Gee!” said Skippy. “Now I know why I couldn’t get a job. Skinner put’em all wise, huh? Gee!”
They were silent after that and chugged steadily toward the yacht club.A ferry-boat was crossing far up the river and her lights blinked outover the dark water like a hundred evil eyes. Hundreds of boats an
chorednear shore bobbed up and down on the tide like a ghostly river army, andfrom the shore more lights winked down on them knowingly as if they knewtheir secret.
They crept into the slip alongside the yacht club; Big Joe had shut offthe motor. At a sign from him, Skippy dropped the anchor and without aword, he got out and crept across the float and onto the club grounds.
After the darkness hid him from view Skippy looked about, nervously.There was a little light gleaming from under the vast clubhouse porchand suddenly he saw Big Joe’s ponderous figure pass under it. Presently,he halted and held out his hand to a man approaching him from the otherdirection.
Skippy sighed with relief and relaxed. At least Big Joe had met hiscomrade without accident. Besides, no one seemed to be about. He heardnot a sound except the river lapping restlessly around the piling underthe slip and the swish of anchored craft as they swayed on the tide.
It seemed to him that Big Joe was staying an interminable time, but asan actual fact, it was just seven minutes before he saw the man’s bulkyfigure coming stealthily toward him.
Skippy weighed anchor without a sound and they pushed the kicker out ofthe slip with oars. A little distance below the club, Big Joe turnedover his motor.
“Shiverin’ swordfish, kid,” he murmured with a chuckle, “all we do nowis wait—wait so’s Crosley can get ’bout as far as Watson’s Channel.He’ll be gettin’ no further’n that—so he won’t.”
Skippy shivered a little and leaned over the coaming to watch for logs.