Harrigan

by Max Brand

  CHAPTER 16

  The dark eye of Pietro Salvain was quick to note her condition. He wasa rather small, lean-faced man with the skin drawn so tightly acrosshis high cheekbones that it glistened. He was emaciated; his energyconsumed him as hunger consumes other men.

  "There is a berth for me below," he said to Kate. "You must take myroom. And I have a cap, some silk shirts, a loose coat which you mightwear--so?"

  "This is Miss Malone, Salvain," said McTee before she could answer.

  "You are very kind, Mr. Salvain," she said.

  He smiled and bowed very low, and then opened the door for her; but allthe while his glance was upon McTee, who stared at him so significantlythat before following Kate through the door, Salvain shrugged hisshoulders and made a gesture of resignation.

  The captain turned to Harrigan. Henshaw was very old. He was always soerect and carried his chin so high that the loose skin of his throathung in two sharp ridges. In spite of the tight-lipped mouth, thebeaklike nose, and the small, gleaming eyes, there was something abouthis face which intensified his age. Perhaps it was the yellow skin, dryas the parchment from an Egyptian tomb and criss-crossed by a myriadlittle wrinkles.

  "And you, sir?" he said to the Irishman.

  "One of my crew," broke in McTee carelessly. "He'll be quite contentedin the forecastle. Eh, Harrigan?"

  "Quite," said Harrigan, and his glance acknowledged the state of war.

  "Then if you'll go forward, Harrigan," said the captain, and his voicewas dry and dead as his skin--"if you'll go forward and report to thebos'n, he'll see that you have a bunk."

  "Thank you, sir," murmured Harrigan, and slipped from the room on hisbare feet.

  "That man," stated Henshaw, "is as strong as you are, McTee, and yetthey call you the huskiest sailor of the South Seas."

  "He is almost as strong," answered McTee with a certain emphasis.

  Something like a smile appeared in the eyes of Henshaw, but did notdisturb the fixed lines of his mouth. For a moment Henshaw and McTeemeasured each other.

  The Scotchman spoke first: "Captain, you're as keen as the stories theytell of you."

  "And you're as hard, McTee."

  The latter waved the somewhat dubious compliment away.

  "I was breaking that fellow, and he held out longer than any man I'veever handled. The shipwreck interrupted me, or I would have finishedwhat I started."

  "You'd like to have me finish what you began?"

  "You read my mind."

  "Discipline is a great thing."

  "Absolutely necessary at sea."

  Henshaw answered coldly: "There's no need for us to act the hypocrite,eh?"

  McTee hesitated, and then grinned: "Not a bit. I know what you didtwenty years ago in the Solomons."

  "And I know the story of you and the pearl divers."

  "That's enough."

  "Quite."

  "And Harrigan?"

  "As a favor to you, McTee, I'll break him. Maybe you'll be interestedin my methods."

  "Try mine first. I made him scrub down the bridge with suds everymorning, and while his hands were puffed and soft, I sent him down tothe fireroom to pass coal."

  "He'll kill you someday."

  "If he can."

  They smiled strangely at each other.

  A knock came at the door, and Salvain entered, radiant.

  "She is divine!" he cried. "Her hair is old copper with golden lights.McTee, if she is yours, you have found another Venus!"

  "If she is not mine," answered McTee, "at least she belongs to no otherman."

  Salvain studied him, first with eagerness, then with doubt, and last ofall with despair.

  "If any other man said that I would question it--so!--with my life. ButMcTee? No, I love life too well!"

  "Now," Henshaw said to Salvain, "Captain McTee and I have business totalk."

  "Aye, sir," said Salvain.

  "One minute, Salvain," broke in McTee. "I haven't thanked you in thegirl's name for taking care of Miss Malone."

  The first mate paused at the door.

  "I begin to wonder, captain," he answered, "whether or not you have theright to thank me in her name!"

  He disappeared through the door without waiting for an answer.

  "Salvain has forgotten me," muttered McTee, balling his fist, "but I'llfreshen his memory."

  He flushed as he became aware of the cold eye of Henshaw upon him.

  "Even Samson fell," said the old man. "But she hasn't cut your hairyet, McTee?"

  "What the devil do you mean?"

  Henshaw silently poured another drink and passed it to the Scotchman.The latter gripped the glass hard and tossed off the drink with asingle gesture. At once his eyes came back to Henshaw's face with thefierce question. He was astonished to note kindliness in the answeringgaze.

  Old Henshaw said gently: "Tut, tut! You're a proper man, McTee, and aproper man has always the thought of some woman tucked away in hisheart. Look at me! For almost sixty years I've been the King of theSouth Seas!"

  At the thought of his glories his face altered, as soldiers change whenthey receive the order to charge.

  "You're a rare man and a bold man, McTee, but you'll never be whatWhite Henshaw has been--the Shark of the Sea! Ha! Yet think of it! Tenyears ago, after all my harvesting of the sea, I had not a dollar toshow for it! Why? Because I was working for no woman. But here I amsailing home from my last voyage--rich! And why? Because for ten yearsI've been working for a woman. For ourselves we make and we spend. Butfor a woman we make and we save. Aye!"

  "For a woman?" repeated McTee, wondering. "Do you mean to say--"

  "Tut, man, it's my granddaughter. Look!"

  Perhaps the whisky had loosened the old man's tongue; perhaps theseconfidences were merely a tribute to the name and fame of McTee; butwhatever was the reason, McTee knew he was hearing things which hadnever been spoken before. Now Henshaw produced a leather wallet fromwhich he selected two pictures, and handed one to the Scotchman. Itshowed a little girl of some ten years with her hair braided down herback. McTee looked his question.

  "That picture was sent to me by my son ten years ago."

  It showed the effect of time and rough usage. The edges of the cheapportrait were yellow and cracked.

  "He was worthless, that son of mine. So I shut him out of my mind untilI got a letter saying he was about to die and giving his daughter intomy hands. That picture was in the letter. Ah, McTee, how I pored overit! For, you see, I saw the face of my wife in the face of the littlegirl, Beatrice. She had come back to life in the second generation. Isuppose that happens sometimes.

  "I made up my mind that night to make a fortune for little Beatrice.First I sold my name and honor to get a half share and captaincy of asmall tramp freighter. Then I went to the Solomon Islands. You knowwhat I did there? Yes, the South Seas rang with it. It was brutal, butit brought me money.

  "I sent enough of that money to the States to keep the girl in luxury.The rest of it I put back into my trading ventures. I got a largerboat. I did unheard-of things; and everything I touched turned intogold. All into gold!

  "From time to time I got letters from Beatrice. First they were carefulscrawls which said nothing. Then the handwriting grew more fluent. Italarmed me to notice the growth of her mind; I was afraid that when Ifinally saw her, she would see in me only a barbarian. So I educatedmyself in odd hours. I've read a book while a hurricane was standing myship on her beam ends."

  McTee, leaning forward with a frown of almost painful interest,understood. He saw it in the wild light of the old man's eyes; aspecies of insanity, this love of the old man for the child he hadnever seen.

  "Notice my language now? Never a taint of the beach lingo in it. Irubbed all that out. Aye, McTee, it took me ten years to educate myselffor that girl's sake. In the meantime, I made money, as I've said. Tenyears of that!

  "Beatrice was in college, and six months ago I got the word that shehad graduated. A month later I heard that she w
as going into a decline.It was nothing very serious, but the doctors feared for the strength ofher lungs. It made me glad. Now I knew that she would need me. An oldman is like a woman, McTee; he needs to have things dependent on him.

  "I turned everything I had into cash. I did it so hurriedly that I musthave lost close to twenty per cent on the forced sales. What did Icare? I had enough, and I made myself into a grandfather who could meetBeatrice's educated friends on their own level.

  "I kept this old ship, the _Heron_, out of the list of my boats. I amgoing back to Beatrice with gold in my hands and gold in my brain! Allfor her. But is she not worth it? Look!"

  He thrust the second portrait into McTee's hands. It showed a ratherthin-faced girl with abnormally large eyes and a rather pathetic smile.It was an appealing face rather than a pretty one.

  "Beautiful!" said McTee with forced enthusiasm.

  "Yes, beautiful! A little pinched, perhaps, but she'll fill out as shegrows older. And those are her grandmother's eyes! Aye!"

  He took the photograph and touched it lightly.

  His voice grew lower, and the roughness was plainly a tremolo now: "Thedoctors say she's sick, a little sick, quite sick, in fact. Twice everyday I make them send me wireless reports of her condition. One day it'sbetter--one day it's worse."

  He began to walk the cabin, his step marvelously elastic and nervousfor so aged a man.

  "Is it not well, McTee? Let her be at death's door! I shall come to herbedside with gold in either hand and raise her up to life! She shallowe everything to me! Will that not make her love me? Will it?"

  He grasped McTee's shoulder tightly.

  "I'm not a pretty lad to look at, eh, lad?"

  McTee poured himself a drink hastily, and drained the glass before heanswered.

  "A pretty man? Nonsense, Henshaw! A little weather-beaten, but a tightcraft at that; she'll worship the ground you walk! Character, Henshaw,that's what these new American girls want to see in a man!"

  Henshaw sighed with deep relief.

  "Ah-h, McTee, you comfort me more than a drink on a stormy night! Forreward, you shall see what I'm bringing back to her. Come!"

  He rose and led McTee into his bedroom, for two cabins were retainedfor the captain's use. Filling one corner of the room was a huge safealmost as tall as a man.

  He squatted before the safe and commenced to work the combination witha swift sureness which told McTee at once that the old buccaneer camehere many times a day to gloat over his treasure. At length the door ofthe safe fell open. Inside was a great mass of little canvas bags.McTee was panting as if he had run a great distance at full speed.

  "Take one."

  The Scotchman raised one of the bags and shook it. A musical clinkingsounded.

  "Forty pounds of gold coin," said Henshaw, "and about ten thousanddollars in all. There are eighty-five of those bags, and every oneholds the same amount. Also--"

  He opened a little drawer at the top of the safe and took from it achamois bag. When he untied it, McTee looked within and saw a quantityof pearls. He took out a small handful. They were chosen jewels,flawless, glowing. His hand seemed to overflow with white fire. Hedropped them back in the bag, letting each pearl run over the end ofhis fingers. Henshaw restored the bag and locked the safe. Then the twomen stared at each other. They had been opposite types the momentbefore, but now their lips parted in the same thirsty eagerness.

  "If she were dead," said McTee almost reverently, "the sight of thatwould bring her back to life."

  "McTee, you're a worthy lad. They've told me lies about you. Indeed itwould bring her back to life! It must be so! And yet--" Suddenmelancholy fell on him as they returned to the other room and sat down."Yet I think night and day of what an old devil of a black magiciantold me in the Solomon Islands. He said I and my gold should burntogether. I laughed at him and told him I could not die on dry land. Hesaid I would not, but that I should burn at sea! Think of that, McTee!Suppose I should be robbed of the sight of my girl and of my gold atthe same time!"

  McTee started to say something cheerful, but his voice died away to amutter. Henshaw was staring at the wall with visionary eyes filled withhorror and despair.

  "Lad, do you think ghosts have power?"

  "Henshaw, you've drunk a bit too much!"

  "If they have no power, I'm safe. I fear no living man!" He addedsoftly: "No man but myself!"

  "I'm tired out," said McTee suddenly. "Where shall I bunk, captain?"

  "Here! Here in this room! Take that couch in the corner over there. Ithas a good set of springs. With gold in my hands. Here are someblankets. With gold in my hands and my brain. Though you don't needmuch covering in this latitude. I would raise her from the grave."

  He went about, interspersing his remarks to McTee with half-audiblemurmurs addressed to his own ears.

  "Is this," thought McTee, "the Shark of the South Seas?"

  A knock came and the door opened. A fat sailor in an oilskin hat stoodat the entrance.

  "The cook ain't put out no lunch for the night watches, sir," hewhined.

  Henshaw had stood with his back turned as the door opened. He turnednow slowly toward the open door. McTee could not see his face nor guessat its expression, but the moment the big sailor caught a glimpse ofhis skipper's countenance, he blanched and jumped back into the night,slamming the door behind him. That sight recalled something to McTee.

  "One thing more, captain," he said. "What of Harrigan? Do we break himbetween us?"

  "Aye, in your own way!"

  "Good! Then start him scrubbing the bridge and send him down to thefireroom afterwards, eh?"

  "It's done. Why do you hate him, McTee? Is it the girl?"

  "No; the color of his hair. Good night."