CHAPTER NINE
_PIRATES_
Baptiste was dancing up and down, flinging his arms like the blades of awindmill and screaming in French. Ramsay wrinkled his brow. He hadpicked up some French, but not enough to translate the torrent of wordsthat rolled out of the agitated man's mouth. And never before in hislife had he seen anyone so mad. Baptiste was invoking every evil hecould think of, a most generous portion, upon someone's hapless head.Ramsay made a move to stop him.
"Wait. I can't follow you...."
A few English words, among which Ramsay recognized pig, dog and son of arotten fish, mingled with Baptiste's violent Gallic tirade. He continuedto wave his arms and yell. Ramsay waited helplessly, unable tounderstand or to do anything. Attracted by the clamor, Hans, Pieter,Marta and Tradin' Jack appeared.
Very quietly Hans advanced to Baptiste's side. "What is it, my friend?"
Almost tearfully, grateful because, at last, he had someone able tounderstand, Baptiste turned his machine-gun rattle of French on Hans.Ramsay watched the Dutch fisherman's face tighten, and then it was setin white-hot anger. He waited for Baptiste to finish, and asked inEnglish, "Do you know who did it?"
"No." Having worn himself out, Baptiste lapsed naturally into English,too. He turned his hot, angry face on the others.
Hans spoke again. "Go to Madame Fontan in Three Points," he said toBaptiste. "Tell her that I, Hans Van Doorst, said that you are to havethe nets you need. If she has not enough woven, get them elsewhere.Madame LeDou makes excellent seines and gill nets. Go to the store forthe rope you need, and tell them I will pay for everything. We ourselveswill come to help you drive new spiles and make new sets."
"It is good of you," Baptiste's face was still flaming with rage, "butwe cannot let the matter rest there."
"Nor can we," Hans' tone was calm and reasoning, "go about shootingpeople when we do not know who to shoot."
"Pah! I know! It is Devil Chad!"
"Have you proof of that?"
"The proof is self-evident. Who but Devil Chad would dare do such athing?"
"Did you see him?"
"Does one see the wise fox when he comes in the night to steal a fatgoose? No, I did not see him."
"Listen, my friend. Listen carefully. If this sort of piracy has beenstarted and we do not end it, we are lost. But ours will be a smalltriumph if all of us get ourselves hanged. We must proceed withcaution."
"I do not like caution."
"Nevertheless, we must now employ it. We cannot rush off with guns andshoot because we suspect. Get your nets and whatever else you need, andstart anew. When you can bring me proof of the pirates, I myself will bethe first to shoot."
"It is the stumbling way."
"It is the only way. If there is to be war, then let there be war. Butwe cannot strike out blindly. To do that will be to turn every man'shand against us. We cannot fight at all if we do not know our enemies."
For a moment the dark-visaged little Frenchman stood uncertainly. Thenhe looked directly at Hans. "I will do as you say," he agreed. "Butshould I catch anyone at my nets, they or I will not live to speak of itafterwards."
"The same will happen should I catch anyone at our nets," Hans promised."But let us catch them before we act."
Baptiste LeClaire swept his hat off, made a courtly bow, murmured, "Yourhealth, Madame and Messieurs," and turned back toward the pier. Expertlyhandled, the _Bon Homme_ sailed gracefully into the lake. Astonished,Ramsay stared at Hans, and Pieter and Marta reflected his astonishment.
"What's got him by the ear?" Ramsay asked.
"Baptiste," Hans said, "had three pound nets which he tended with poundboats. He had a number of gill nets which he visited with the _BonHomme_, a proper gill net boat."
Hans stared out on the lake, as though seeking the answer to somequestion that plagued him. He turned to face the others.
"Baptiste has no more pound nets. They have all been raised and rippedto shreds. The spiles to which he attached them were broken. Of thegill nets he once had, one remains. The rest were destroyed. Aside fromhis years of labor, Baptiste has lost more than two thousand dollars'worth of nets."
"Who did it?" Ramsay gasped.
Hans shrugged. "Someone who has discovered, at last, that there is moneyto be had in Lake Michigan fishing. Someone who will stop at nothing toget all of it for himself."
There was conviction in Ramsay's "Devil Chad!"
Hans shrugged again. "So Baptiste thinks."
"What do you think?"
Hans swung so fiercely on him that Ramsay retreated a step. "You heardwhat I told Baptiste!" the Dutch fisherman said. "We must be certain! Itis not for us to appoint ourselves judge, jury and executioner! Beforewe act we must be sure!"
"Should we call in the constable?"
Hans said scornfully, "Devil Chad's man!"
"What must we do?"
"Watch ourselves," Hans declared. "Hereafter we must leave the netsunguarded and the lake without our own patrol, only when we are sure itis safe. If someone has come to take from us our right to fish, we mustbe our own protection. At the same time we must not act blindly. Thelake is big enough for all. If one has come who would take everythingfor himself, we fight."
"You know it's Devil Chad."
"I know no such thing."
"Do you suspect him?"
"Yes," Hans answered frankly.
"Then why not take action?"
"Look, boy," and Ramsay writhed because never before had Hans addressedhim in such a fashion, "lives are now at stake. Let us be sure before welose ours or take someone else's!"
"You are right," Pieter approved. "Yes, you are right."
Puzzled, Ramsay looked at his two partners. It was absurd to supposethat either was afraid; they had proven their courage too many times.Yet, though both thought Devil Chad the raider, both refused to moveagainst him until they had proof of his piracies. Ramsay thought ofsomething he had read, 'A man is innocent until proven guilty.' MaybeHans and Pieter believed that sincerely, while the hot-headed Baptistewas ready to strike at anything at all.
Ramsay felt a rising admiration for his partners. "What must we do?" heasked.
"I doubt if they'll strike by day," Hans said. "If they come, it will bein the night. We'll make three watches, and alternate on them. That waythey cannot surprise us."
"Suppose they come?"
Hans shrugged eloquently. "Then we will fight and fight hard, for it iscertain that no one else will do our fighting for us. Do either of youhave a choice as to watches?"
Nobody had a choice. Hans broke three straws of different lengths,concealed them in the palm of his hand, and held them out. They drew,and compared straws. Pieter had the shortest, the first watch, Ramsaythe second and Hans the third. Hans looked thoughtfully at thetwilight-softened lake. "Pieter, do you want to go out at seven andstay until eleven?"
"Yaah."
"Good. Ramsay, stay out until about two and awaken me."
"All right."
Ramsay ate the excellent supper Marta had prepared, listened idly to thechatter of Tradin' Jack, who knew what had happened and was nervousbecause of it, and went upstairs to bed. In spite of his inner tensionand his excitement, his head had scarcely touched the pillow when hedozed off. A moment later, or so it seemed, Pieter was touching hisshoulder.
"It's time."
"I ... Huh? Oh, yes."
Ramsay came fully awake, and Pieter lighted the candle in his room. Itsbeams sparkled brightly on the shining barrel of the muzzle-loadingfowling-piece Pieter carried. Of a huge bore, the gun was charged withblack powder and loaded with lead slugs. Ramsay shuddered as he acceptedit. Such a gun would be sure to work great havoc among anything it wasshot at, but its recoil alone would probably set a mule back on itshaunches.
"Anything happen?" Ramsay whispered.
"Nothing," Pieter said. "Nobody came. The lake is calm and the boatawaits you on the beach."
"I'll see you in the morning."
"Good luck."
His shoes in one hand and the shotgun in the other, Ramsay stole quietlydown the stairs and out the back door. He stopped to put his shoes on,and looked around him.
A pale moon shone through disheveled clouds that gave the sky theappearance of a man sadly in need of a hair-cut, and the faintestsuspicion of a breeze kicked up small wavelets. Asleep on the ridgepole, Captain Klaus was a dull, shapeless blob in the night sky. Ramsaycradled the shotgun in his right elbow and walked down to the beach.
The pound boat had wedged itself lightly against the sand. Ramsay putthe anchor back in, carefully laid the shotgun on the rower's seat, andstood in the stern until he had tilted the craft from its mooring.Sitting down, with a vigorous stroke of the oars he sent the boatfarther into the lake.
In the bay a fish jumped out of water, and the sound of its falling backmade a tinkling splash. Ramsay, dipping his oars quietly, steered towardthe first pound net they had set. At intervals he halted to rest on theoars. There were no sounds save those that should have been present.Except for him and the pound boat, the lake seemed deserted. Lingeringin the shadows, Ramsay circled the net and saw nothing. He startedtoward another of their pound nets.
They had kept the seine busy, taken good catches from their pound nets,and turned most of their money back into additional equipment. They weregetting ahead and setting themselves up in the fishing business. By nextyear they should have everything they needed. They would not have to buyany nets, or boats, and could begin to enjoy the profits they wereearning.
Ramsay found himself thinking of Devil Chad. Fishing was very hard work,and expensive, but whoever did it well could hope for a fine future.Lake Michigan was a vast reservoir of riches, and they were to be used.There was room for all, but so was there room in Three Points. DevilChad wanted that for himself. Who but Devil Chad could now be plottingto seize the Lake Michigan fisheries?
Ramsay shrugged such thoughts away. Out here on the lake he seemed ableto think with great clarity, and he knew that Hans and Pieter wereright. They must not lash out in thoughtless anger and hit at Devil Chadbecause he was the logical one to raid their nets. They must have proof,and strike as hard as possible when they struck.
Ramsay visited all three pound nets, and rowed back to the first one.The lake remained calm and unruffled. When he thought it was twoo'clock--the night was divided into one watch of four hours and two ofthree each--he went in to rouse Hans. At half-past five, when they atebreakfast, Hans had nothing to report. If pirates were out to get allnets, certainly they had not bothered theirs.
Late that afternoon, when the fishing was done and Ramsay, much to theamusement of Hans and Pieter, had carried six more big sturgeon to thepond, Hans hitched the black horse and invited Ramsay to go with him toThree Points. Captain Klaus, as usual, flew to the back of the cart andperched where he could caress Hans with his bill. Hans turned the littlehorse down the road leading to Tom Nedley's. Ramsay stirred withinterest.
Big Tom Nedley came out of his shed, greeted them, and looked doubtfullyat the little cart. He glanced from it to a long oaken beam that wassupported on wooden horses. When he looked again at Hans, his voice andmanner were almost accusing. "You aim to drag that piece of oak?"
"You think I'm a fool?" Hans challenged.
"Didn't think you'd drag it." Tom Nedley seemed relieved. "There ain'tanother piece of oak like that one in Wisconsin. How do you aim to getit home?"
"You have an extra pair of wheels and an axle?"
"Sure, but ..."
"Ha! Bring me a wrench!"
The wrench in his hands, Hans set to work unbolting the clamps that heldthe body on Pieter's two-wheeled cart. He lifted the body and seat off,leaving the horse hitched only to the wheels and the axle that joinedthem.
Hans looked triumphantly at Tom Nedley, and the boatbuilder scratchedhis head. "You needn't think you're so smart. I'd of thought of thatmyself afore I let you drag that timber."
"Why didn't you?"
While Tom brought another pair of wheels, Ramsay looked at the solidchunk of oak. About twenty-six feet long, it was very fine-grained andit hadn't a crack or flaw throughout its length--fully seasoned, so thatnot a drop of sap remained in it. Even Ramsay, whose knowledge of woodwas limited, could tell that this was an exceptionally fine chunk ofoak. Hans and Tom Nedley seemed to look upon it as they would havelooked upon some valuable jewel. Hans patted it affectionately.
"Stronger than steel!" he said fondly. "Can you not imagine what a boatthe _Spray II_ will be?"
Tom Nedley said, "Building from that, you cannot fail."
For a moment Hans was wistful, as though he had gone back in memory tothe first _Spray_.
Tom Nedley brought another set of wheels, rolled them into place, andcovered the bare axle with a soft blanket. He used another blanket topad the axle to which the horse was hitched, and Hans steered the horseinto position. Hans, Tom and Ramsay lifted one end of the oaken beamonto the rear wheels. Ramsay helped lift the other end onto the otherset of wheels, and stood aside while Hans lashed both with ropes.
Ramsay watched interestedly. Hans used his ropes to permit flexibility,while at the same time he took no chances on their chafing or breaking.Apparently fishermen could do anything with ropes. Ramsay tied theunbolted seat and body to the top of the oaken beam. Hans took thelittle horse's bridle and led him carefully back to the road. Mounted onits four wheels, the long oaken beam swayed and turned.
Leading the little horse, careful of everything that lay in front,behind and on both sides, Hans set a very slow pace. It was as thoughthe beam were a very fragile thing that might break should it brush eventhe smallest tree. Actually, if it hit one hard, it would have brokenany small tree in its path and rocked the larger ones. Hans continued totreat it as though it were a very delicate thing.
Destined to be the keel of the _Spray II_, when they reached Pieter'shouse the beam was lovingly set up on three scaffoldings made offour-by-sixes and arranged near the lake. Hans patted it as lovingly ashe would have stroked a favorite dog. "We have a start!" he saidhappily.
"Why do we need another boat?" Ramsay queried.
"For setting gill nets," Hans replied. "You are not a fisherman unlessyou know how to set a gill net, and you cannot set a gill net unless youhave a proper Mackinaw boat." He petted the oaken beam again. "Asresponsive as a canoe it shall be, but as strong as a pound boat! Thisone shall not break no matter what happens. The lake will not breed astorm that it will be unable to ride out."
That night Ramsay's was the first watch. He rowed the pound boat fromone to another of their three pound nets. No strange vessel disturbedthe lake, no hostile creature approached. Ramsay gave his watch over toHans, and slept until dawn. They fished, processed their catch andloaded thirty thousand pounds of whitefish onto the _Jackson_ when shenosed into their pier.
Ramsay went with Hans and Pieter to a place where some mighty cedartrees, that had grown for centuries, had been cut when the snow wasdeep. Their weathered stumps thrust six feet or more above the greenfoliage that surrounded them, and Hans chose very carefully. He wantedonly those stumps with a fine, closely knit grain, those which, even indeath, showed no cracks or flaws. He found three of which he approved,and Ramsay and Pieter used a cross-cut saw to cut them off very close tothe earth. Ramsay began to understand the project in Hans' mind.
Because of weather conditions, pound nets, at the very most, could beused for only about three to four months out of every year. The seine,though under no circumstances would Hans fish in the spawning season,could be dragged in until the bay froze. But gill nets could be usedfor seven or eight months if one had a proper boat, and Hans wanted tobuild one that would ride out any storm.
It was not to be an ordinary Mackinaw boat, but one such as LakeMichigan had never seen. Its oaken keel had been chosen with an eye tothe heaviest seas and the ice that speckled those seas in spring orfall. Though some fishermen used cedar planking for the ribbing of theirboats, and steamed it until it could be bent into the
desired shape,Hans intended to cut his directly from cedar stumps that had alreadyendured five hundred years and ten thousand storms. Then the _Spray II_would be sheathed with the best possible cedar planking and calked withthe best obtainable oakum, or rope soaked in tar.
They would not float her this season. Neither effort nor expense were tobe spared in the building of the _Spray II_, and constructing herproperly would be a winter's job. But as soon as the ice broke next yearshe would be ready to float, and they would be ready to set their gillnets.
Ramsay grinned fleetingly as he tossed bushels of ground corn into thepond so that the numerous sturgeon he had imprisoned there would haveenough to eat. It seemed so very long ago that he had thrown in withHans and Pieter and decided to become a fisherman, and he still hadn'ttwo silver dollars to jingle in his pocket. Not one day, scarcely onehour had been free of grueling labor. But they had two pound boats,three pound nets, had bought another seine, and with spring they wouldhave the _Spray II_. In addition, there was enough of the season left,so that they should be able to catch plenty of fish before either iceor the spawning period curtailed operations. That would give them enoughmoney to buy gill nets, as well as anything else they needed. None ofthe four partners would come out of this season with money in theirpockets. They would own a sufficient amount of equipment for next year,and much of what they earned then would be profit.
That night Ramsay took the third watch. He rowed softly from one poundnet to the other, always keeping in the shadows so that there was smalldanger of his being noticed. He had been out about an hour, and had twomore to go, when he saw a boat approaching.
It came from the north, Three Points, and its row locks were so wellgreased that not the faintest sound came from them. The oarsman wasexpert; he dipped and raised his oars so that there was no splashing.Ramsay raised the shot gun. He leveled it.
Unseen by the other boatmen, he lurked in the shadows and let them pass.Ramsay was somewhat surprised to see them give a pound net a wide berthand head into the bay. He followed, rowing his own boat silently whilehe tried to discern the others' intentions. There were at least four,and perhaps five, men in the other boat and they were going toward thepier. Ramsay let them draw ahead, then circled around them and as fastas he could without making any noise, he rowed straight toward thebeach. Grounding his boat, he stepped out. He was aware of the otherboat being drawn up cautiously.
He walked toward the nocturnal visitors until he was within ahalf-dozen rods. He could see them now, clustered about the pier. Twostarted for the barrels and the barreled fish. There was a faintwhispering. Ramsay waited to hear no more.
Had these people been well-intentioned, they would not be so secretive.Plainly they were up to no good.
Ramsay pointed the shotgun toward the sky--he had no wish to killanyone--braced the stock against his shoulder, and pressed the trigger.The gun belched its load of leaden pellets, and red flame flashed fromthe muzzle. Ramsay shouted as loudly as he could. "Pieter! Hans!"
Dropping the shotgun on the sand beach, he rushed forward. The two menwho had started toward the barrels and barreled fish came running back.Ramsay glared his anger.
Though he could not be positive because it was too dark to identifyanything or anyone positively, he thought that the man who stood just alittle to one side of the rest was Joe Mannis, the body-watcher. Ramsayswerved toward him, sent his doubled fist into the other's stomach, andheard a mighty '_whoosh_' as he knocked the wind out of his enemy. Up atthe house a door slammed.
Then a club or blackjack collided soddenly with the side of Ramsay'shead and set him reeling. He stumbled forward, feeling a little foolishbecause all the strength had left him. Without being sure that he didso, he sat down on the sand and blinked owlishly at the night visitors.Dimly he was aware of the fact that they were launching their boat andthat he must stop them, but he did not know how to do so.
A nightgown flapping about his legs and a tasseled red cap on his head,Hans Van Doorst appeared on the beach. A pair of trousers hastilystrapped about his own nightgown, Pieter followed. Both men lookedquietly at the retreating boat, which they might have followed and wouldhave followed had not Ramsay needed help. They lifted him to his feet.
"What happened?" Hans asked quietly.
"I ... They came while I was out on the lake, but they didn't botherthe nets. They rowed right into the pier, and I don't know what theywanted."
"Did you recognize any of them?"
"I think Joe Mannis was one."
"Devil Chad?"
Ramsay said positively, "He was not among them. I would have recognizedhim."
"Did you shoot at them?"
"No, I shot to attract you and Pieter."
"Well, that's all right, too. They won't be back tonight, or likely anyother night. Come on."
They helped Ramsay into the house, bathed his head and put him to bed.He awoke to a mist-filled morning.
No breath of air stirred. Visibility was almost non-existent; the mistwas so heavy that it almost hid the lake. Ramsay, with all theelasticity of youth, had recovered quickly from last night's incidentand he had a good appetite for the breakfast Marta had prepared.
Then Marta tossed her head defiantly. "All of you have been away," sheannounced, "and you have done many things. I have been nowhere and Ihave not done anything. But today I go to Three Points to shop."
"Sure," Pieter said. "I'll hitch the horse for you."
They cheered Marta on her way and went down to cast the seine. The poundnets, having been visited within the past two days, would not again bevisited today. Aside from that, they had seined tons of whitefish andsturgeon out of the bay in front of Pieter's house. Naturally thecatches were growing smaller. If they didn't take the seine too far out,and set it shallow, three men could work the windlasses.
Then, just as they were ready to fish, and just about when Marta shouldhave reached Three Points, a man on a lathered horse came pounding downthe sand beach. He drew his tired mount up. "Quick!" he gasped. "Anaccident! Marta is badly hurt!"
The Spell of the White Sturgeon Page 9