Blow The Man Down: A Romance Of The Coast Page 4

  IV ~ OVER THE "POLLY'S" RAIL

  O Stormy was a good old man! To my way you storm along! Physog tough as an old tin pan, Ay, ay, ay, Mister Storm-along! --Storm-along Shanty.

  Without paying much attention to the disturber, Captain Candage had beena bit nettled during his meditation. A speed boat from one of the yachtskept circling the _Polly_, carrying a creaming smother of waterunder its upcocked bow. It was a noisy gnat of a boat and it kicked acontemptuous wake against the rust-streaked old wagon.

  When it swept under the counter, after Captain Candage was back on hisquarter-deck, he gave it a stare over the rail, and his expression wasdistinctly unamiable.

  "They probably wasted more money on that doostra-bulus than thisschooner would sell for in the market today," he informed Otie.

  "They don't care how money goes so long as they didn't have to sweatearning it. Slinging it like they'd sling beans!"

  Back on its circling course swished the darting tender. This time thepurring motor whined into silence and the boat came drifting alongside.

  "On board _Polly!_" hailed one of the yachtsmen, a man with owner'sinsignia on his cap.

  The master of the old schooner stuck his lowering visage farther overthe rail, but he did not reply.

  "Isn't this _Polly_ the real one?"

  "No, it's only a chromo painting of it."

  "Thank you! You're a gentleman!" snapped the yachtsman.

  "Oh, hold on, Paul," urged one of the men in the tender. "There's aright way to handle these old boys." He stood up. "We're much interestedin this packet, captain."

  "That's why you have been making a holy show of her, playing ring arounda rosy, hey?"

  "But tell me, isn't this the old shallop that was a privateer in the warof eighteen twelve?"

  "Nobody aboard here has ever said she wasn't."

  "Well, sir, may we not come on board and look her over?"

  "No sir, you can't."

  "Now, look here, captain--"

  "I'm looking!" declared the master of the _Polly_ in ominous tones.

  "We don't mean to annoy you, captain."

  "Folks who don't know any better do a lot of things without meaning to."

  Captain Candage regularly entertained a sea-toiler's resentment for menwho used the ocean as a mere playground. But more especially, duringthose later days, his general temper was touchy in regard to dapperyoung men, for he had faced a problem of the home which had tried hissoul. He felt an unreasoning choler rising in him in respect to thesechaps, who seemed to have no troubles of their own.

  "I am a writer," explained the other. "If I may be allowed on board I'lltake a few pictures and--"

  "And make fun of me and my bo't by putting a piece in the paper totickle city dudes. Fend off!" he commanded, noticing that the tender wasdrifting toward the schooner's side and that one of the crew had set aboat-hook against the main chain-plate.

  "Don't bother with the old crab," advised the owner, sourly.

  But the other persisted, courteously, even humbly. "I am afraid you donot understand me, captain. I would as soon make jest of my mother as ofthis noble old relic."

  "Go ahead! Call it names!"

  "I am taking off my hat to it," he declared, whipping his cap from hishead. "My father's grandfather was in the war of eighteen twelve. I wantto honor this old patriot here with the best tribute my pen can pay.If you will allow me to come on board I shall feel as though I werestepping upon a sacred spot, and I can assure you that my friends, here,have just as much respect for this craft as I have."

  But this honest appeal did not soften Captain Candage. He did notunderstand exactly from what source this general rancor of his flowed.At the same time he was conscious of the chief reason why he did notwant to allow these visitors to rummage aboard the schooner. They wouldmeet his daughter, and he was afraid, and he was bitterly ashamed ofhimself because he was afraid. Dimly he was aware that this everlastingfear on her account constituted an insult to her. The finer impulse toprotect her privacy was not actuating him; he knew that, too. He wasmerely foolishly afraid to trust her in the company of young men, andthe combination of his emotions produced the simplest product of mentalupheaval--unreasonable wrath.

  "Fend off, I say," he commanded.

  "Again I beg you, captain, with all respect, please may we come onboard?"

  "You get away from here and tend to your own business, if you've gotany, or I'll heave a bunch of shingles at you!" roared the skipper.

  "Father!" The voice expressed indignant reproof. "Father, I am ashamedof you!"

  The girl came to the rail, and the yachtsmen stared at her as if shewere Aphrodite risen from the sea instead of a mighty pretty girlemerging from a dark companion-way. She had appeared so suddenly! Shewas so manifestly incongruous in her surroundings.

  "Mother o' mermaids!" muttered the yacht-owner in the ear of the mannearest. "Is the old rat still privateering?"

  The men in the tender stood up and removed their caps.

  "You have insulted these gentlemen, father!"

  Captain Candage knew it, and that fact did not soften his anger in theleast. At the same time this appearance of his own daughter to read hima lesson in manners in public was presumption too preposterous to beendured; her daring gave him something tangible for his resentment toattack.

  He turned on her. "You go below where you belong."

  "I belong up here just now."

  "Down below with you!"

  "I'll not go until you apologize to these gentlemen, father!"

  "You ain't ashore now, miss, to tell me when to wipe my feet and notmuss the tidies! You're on the high seas, and I'm cap'n of this vessel.Below, I say!"

  "These gentlemen know the _Polly_, and they will find out the name ofthe man who commands her, and I don't propose to have it said that theCandages are heathens," she declared, firmly. "If you do not apologize,father, I shall apologize for you." She tried to crowd past him to therail, but he clapped his brown hand over her mouth and pushed her back.His natural impulse as commander of his craft dominated his feelings asa father.

  "I'll teach ye shipboard discipline, Polly Candage," he growled, "evenif I have to take ye acrost my knee."

  "Hold on there, if you please, captain," called the spokesman of theyachtsmen.

  Captain Candage was hustling his daughter toward the companionway. Butthere was authority in the tone, and he paused and jutted a challengingchin over his shoulder.

  "What have any of you critters got to say about my private business?"

  The formality of the man in the tender was a bit exaggerated in hisreply. "Only this, sir. We are going away at once before we bring anymore trouble upon this young lady, to whom we tender our most respectfulcompliments. We do not know any other way of helping her. Our protests,being the protests of gentlemen, might not be able to penetrate; ittakes a drill to get through the hide of a rhinoceros!"

  The skipper of the _Polly_ did not trouble himself about the finershadings in that little speech, but of one fact he felt sure: hehad been called a rhinoceros. He released his daughter, yanked themarlinespike away from Otie, who had been holding himself in thebackground as a reserve force, and stamped to the rail. He poised hisweapon, fanning it to and fro to take sure aim. But the engineer hadthrown in his clutch and the speed boat foamed off before the captaingot the range, and he was too thrifty to heave a perfectly goodmarlinespike after a target he could not hit, angry as he was.

  The girl faced her father. There was no doubting her mood. She was arebel. Indignation set up its flaming standards on her cheeks, and thesignal-flames of combat sparkled in her eyes.

  "How did you dare to do such a thing to me--those gentlemen looking on?Father, have you lost your mind?"

  Otie expressed the opinion tinder his breath that the captain, on thecontrary, had "lost his number."

  Otie's superior officer was stamping around the quarterdeck, kicking atloose objects, and avoiding his daughter's resentful
gaze. There wasa note of insincerity in his bluster, as if he wanted to hideembarrassment in a cloud of his own vaporings, as a squid colors waterwhen it fears capture.

  "After this you call me Cap'n Candage," he commanded. "After thisI'm Cap'n Candage on the high seas, and I propose to run my ownquarter-deck. And when I let a crowd of dudes traipse on board here topeek and spy and grin and flirt with you, you'll have clamshells forfinger-nails. Now, my lady, I don't want any back talk!"

  "But I am going to talk to you, father!"

  "Remember that I'm a Candage, and back talk--"

  "So am I a Candage--and I have just been ashamed of it!"

  "I'm going to have discipline on my own quarterdeck."

  "Back talk, quarter-deck discipline, calling you captain! Fol-de-rol andfiddlesticks! I'm your own daughter and you're my father. And you havebrought us both to shame! There! I don't want to stay on this old hulk,and I'm not going to stay. I am going home to Aunt Zilpah."

  "I had made up my mind to let you go. My temper was mild and sweet tillthose jeehoofered, gold-trimmed sons of a striped--"

  "Father!"

  "I had made up my mind to let you go. But I ain't going to give in to amutiny right before the face and eyes of my own crew."

  Smut-nosed Dolph had arrived with the supper-dishes balanced in his armswhile he crawled over the deckload. He was listening with the utmostinterest.

  "Your Aunt Zilpah has aided and abetted you in your flirting," raged thecaptain. "My own sister, taking advantage of my being off to sea tryingto earn money--"

  "Do you mean to insult everybody in this world, father? I shall go home,I say. I'm miserable here."

  "I'll see to it that you ain't off gamboling and galley-westing withdudes!"

  In spite of her spirit the girl was not able to bandy retort longer withthis hard-shelled mariner, whose weapon among his kind for yearshad been a rude tongue. Shocked grief put an end to her poor littlerebellion. Tears came.

  "You are giving these two men a budget to carry home and spread aboutthe village! Oh, father, you are wicked--wicked!" She put her hands toher face, sobbed, and then ran away down into the gloomy cabin.

  There was a long silence on the quarter-deck. Otie recovered hismarlinespike and began to pound the eye-bolt.

  "Without presuming, preaching, or poking into things that ain't none ofmy business, I want to say that I don't blame you one mite, cap'n," hevolunteered. "No matter what she says, she wasn't to be trusted amongthem dudes on shore, and I speak from observation and, being an oldbach, I can speak impartial. The dudes on the water is just as bad. Themfellows were flirting with her all the time they was 'longside. Real menthat means decent ain't called on to keep whisking their caps off and onall the time a woman is in sight--and I see one of 'em wink at her."

  Captain Candage was in a mood to accept this comfort from Oakum Otie,and to put out of his contrite conscience the memory of what CaptainRanse Lougee had said.

  "Don't you worry! I've got her now where I can keep my eye on her, andI'm cap'n of my own vessel--don't nobody ever forget that!" He shook hisfist at the gaping cook. "What ye standing there for, like a hen-coopwith the door open and letting my vittels cool off? Hiper your boots!Down below with you and dish that supper onto the table!"

  The skipper lingered on deck, his hand at his ear.

  The fog was settling over the inner harbor. In the dim vastness seawarda steamer was hooting. Each prolonged blast, at half-minute intervals,sounded nearer. The sound was deep, full-toned, a mighty diapason.

  "What big fellow can it be that's coming in here?" the captain grunted.

  "Most likely only another tin skimmer of a yacht," suggested the mate,tossing the eye-splice and the marline-spike into the open hatch of thelazaret. "You know what they like to do, them play-critters! They stickon a whistle that's big enough for Seguin fog-horn." He squinted underthe edge of his palm and waited. "There she looms. What did I tell ye?Nothing but a yacht."

  "But she's a bouncer," remarked the skipper. "What do you make her?"

  "O--L," spelled Otie--"O--L--_Olenia_. Must be a local pilot aboard.None of them New York spiffer captains could find Saturday Cove throughthe feather-tide that's outside just now."

  "Well, whether they can or whether they can't isn't of any interest tome," stated the skipper, with fine indifference. "I'd hate to be ina tight place and have to depend on one of them gilded dudes! I smellsupper. Come on!"

  He was a little uncertain as to what demeanor he ought to assumebelow, but he clumped down the companion-way with considerable show ofconfidence, and Otie followed.

  The captain cast a sharp glance at his daughter. He had been afraid thathe would find her crying, and he did not know how to handle such caseswith any certainty.

  But she had dried her eyes and she gave him no very amiablelook--rather, she hinted defiance. He felt more at ease. In his opinion,any person who had spirit enough left for fight was in a mood to keep onenjoying life.

  "Perhaps I went a mite too far, Polly," he admitted. He was mild, buthe preserved a little touch of surliness in order that she might notconclude that her victory was won. "But seeing that I brought you off tosea to get you away from flirting--"

  "Don't you dare to say that about me!" She beat her round little fist onthe table. "Don't you dare!"

  "I don't mean that you ever done it! The dudes done it! I want to doright by you, Polly. I've been to sea so long that I don't know muchabout ways and manners, I reckon. I can't get a good line on things asI ought to. I'm an old fool, I reckon." His voice trembled. "But it mademe mad to have you stram up there on deck and call me names before 'em."

  She did not reply.

  "I have always worked hard for you--sailing the seas and going withoutthings myself, so that you could have 'em--doing the best I could everafter your poor mother passed on."

  "I am grateful to you, father. But you don't understand a girl--oh, youdon't understand! But let's not talk about it any more--not now."

  "I ain't saying to-night--I ain't making promises! But maybe--we'llsee how things shape up--maybe I'll send you back home. Maybe it 'll beto-morrow. We'll see how the stage runs to the train, and so forth!"

  "I am going to leave it all to you, father. I'm sure you mean to doright." She served the food as mistress at the board.

  "It seems homelike with you here," said Captain Can-dage, meekly andwistfully.

  "I will stay with you, father, if it will make you happier."

  "I sha'n't listen to anything of the sort. It ain't no place aboard herefor a girl."

  Through the open port they heard the frequent clanging of thesteam-yacht's engine-room bell and the riot of her swishing screws asshe eased herself into an anchorage. She was very near them--so nearthat they could hear the chatter of the voices of gay folk.

  "What boat is that, father?"

  "Another frosted-caker! I can't remember the name."

  "It's the _Oilyena_ or something like that. I forget fancy names prettyquick," Otie informed her.

  "Well, it ain't much use to load your mind down with that kind ofsculch," stated Captain Candage, poising a potato on his fork-tines andpeeling it, his elbows on the table. "That yacht and the kind of folksthat's aboard that yacht ain't of any account to folks like us."

  The memory of some remarks which are uttered with peculiar fervorremains with the utterer. Some time later--long after--Captain Candageremembered that remark and informed himself that, outside of weatherpredictions, he was a mighty poor prophet.