CHAPTER XXVI
In Which Is Told How the Barney Boys Go Ashore
Of course, the sinking of the Seamew would be reported by the tug Comet, that had gone out to meet her, and the news would be telegraphed to Baltimore long before we reached the port. The owners would know all about the trouble, and I reckon Captain Joe Bowditch had pretty serious thoughts that night as we were towed up the bay.
It was a lovely evening and Phillis came out on deck and begged me to sit with her. She had not been so greatly frightened when the two ships collided, because I had been right with her and the trouble was over so quickly. I hated to think of what might have happened, however, if it had been the fate of the Gullwing to sink instead of her sister ship.
Since they have been carried below, unconscious, none of we foremast hands had seen the two Barney boys. We only knew that they had both recovered and were none the worse for their ducking.
It was now the captain’s watch, however, and Mr. Jim Barney came up and paced the larboard side of the deck, aft. It was not long before I caught sight of a similar figure pacing the starboard side of the house, and knew that Mr. Alf Barney had come up, too.
Philly and I had been whispering together under her awning and suddenly she put her finger on my lips to enjoin secrecy, and tripped away to Mr. Jim Barney’s side.
She tucked her hand in his, I could see, and walked beside him. I am not sure whether she said anything to him, or not; but I know he did not send her away from him, although he was on duty.
Then, after a bit, I saw Philly go to the other side of the deck and join Mr. Alf Barney. She must have got acquainted with him below deck, for he welcomed her warmly. They talked earnestly for a few moments, and then the little girl ran back to me.
I had been gazing idly off over the rail, watching the lights ashore, and thinking of my home-coming. In this land-locked bay I could be pretty safe in believing that I would soon be with my mother.
Of course, through the machinations of my cousin I had been kept from coming directly home when I was at Punta Arenas. But Paul Downes would not be in Baltimore when we landed, to trouble me in the least. Once I got ashore with Phillis and Thank, I was determined to hike for Darringford House in short order.
I had enough money to pay two railroad fares home—the little girl’s and my own. Thank and I were to receive no wages for our work aboard the Gullwing. But I would leave Thank enough money to keep him until I could telegraph him more from Darringford.
He proposed to go home himself for a time—back to Georgia. He had a half sister there that he wanted to see. Then he was to join me for the balance of the summer on the Massachusetts coast. We had already planned great fun at Bolderhead, despite the fact that my bonnie sloop, the Wavecrest, was far, far away—at Buenos Ayres.
The matter of Dao Singh was not so easily adjusted. I knew very well that Captain Bowditch would insist upon reporting the case of Phillis to the proper authorities at Baltimore. That would include the examination of the Hindoo on the details of the wreck of the Galland. And just as sure as they got the man into court I knew he would convict himself.
I was not willing to see the examination dragged on for weeks, perhaps months. And the end was not sure, either. I did not want Dao Singh punished; and I knew that it would trouble Philly greatly if the man was not at her beck and call most of the time.
However, if Dao Singh, as a pertinent witness in the case, was not to be found, I believed I could get any fair-minded court to place Phillis in the care of my mother until the matter was concluded. That was the scheme I had in mind.
Therefore, when we landed I proposed that Dao Singh should disappear. I had already sounded him. I had no money to spare, but he seemed to have worn a belt about his waist under his clothing, in which he told me he carried valuables. Money I supposed.
Nor was he ignorant of the port to which we were bound. He had studied the geography of the world and he had corresponded in some way with members of his own race located in Baltimore.
“To them will I go, Webb Sahib, directly the ship docks. If there is hue and cry, they will not find me. When your augustness and the Memsahib en train for your home, I shall en train likewise. I shall not be far from you.”
“But you will not know when we go,” I cried.
“Let not the Sahib fear for that. Dao Singh will have means of knowing. Your movements, Webb Sahib, will be learned, although I be afar. Fear not.”
And this is all he would tell me. Rather a rare bird, was Singh. He treated me always with immense deference, waited on me when I would let him, hand and foot, yet always retained an air of being upon a mental or spiritual plane immensely removed from my own. And I’m not at all sure that he was not possessed of intelligence far above the order of the European or American.
But I have got away from my text. Philly and I were sitting watching the lights on shore. As we were under towage, the watch on deck had little to do. Therefore the captain did not mind being aft with the little lass.
Suddenly I saw the two Barney boys cross the deck and stand together under the break of the quarter. It was dark there and I could not see how they looked at each other, nor could I hear what they said. But they stood there for some minutes and, when they separated, and Mr. Jim went back to his duty, I hoped that they had not parted in anger.
It seemed a dreadful thing if either, or both, of the twins should be accused of losing one ship and all but wrecking the other. As young merchant officers, just starting out in life, the affair would about ruin them. And if old Jothan Barney stuck to his word and took Jim Barney into the firm, and gave him all his money, what would become of Mr. Alfred?
At midnight I turned in; Philly had sought her cabin long before. She wished to be up bright and early to see the Gullwing docked. But I could not sleep for mulling over the case of the Barney boys in my mind.
My watch was called at eight bells to wash down and make the deck as tidy as possible for the docking, although we were not yet far north of the mouth of the York river. The best we could do, however, our beautiful Gullwing looked like a drunken old harridan that had been out all night!
The day was beautiful. As the shores and islands were more clearly revealed, Philly’s delight knew no bounds.
“Oh, the land! the beautiful land!” she sighed. “I want to jump for joy.”
“Have you got enough of the sea for all time?”
“I do not think I am afraid of the sea—not as afraid as I was once,” she replied. “But think how good it will be to step ashore! I really don’t feel, Clint, as though I would care to sail again right away.”
And despite the sorry story we had to tell of the Seamew, there was a briskness in everybody’s movements that told of shore leave, and most of the men’s faces were agrin. Those forward were making up parties for certain pleasures and entertainments which had been denied them for so many months.
Old Stronson was going immediately to the Bethel, there to pay Captain Sowle the dollar he had owed the good superintendent for five years and more.
“I do that chob at vonce,” said the old man, “pefore somet’ings happen to me. Meppe Captain Sowle vill take my moneys for me and find me a goot berth aboard some gentleman’s yacht. Das berth I like, I t’ank.”
I knew he wanted to get away from the drink and I hoped with all my heart that the old man would be able to do so.
Tom Thornton had a married sister in Baltimore, over to whom the bulk of his paycheck was always paid by Barney, Blakesley & Knight. He would be put up by her, and cared for, and kept straight as long as possible; then the old man would go to sea again—in the Gullwing if possible.
As for Bob Promise and some other of the younger men, they were all for “the sporting life.”
“I’m goin’ to tog meself up in decent clothes,” said Bob. “No slops or sheeny hand-me-downs for me. You watch my smoke, boy, when I get ashore. I ain’t sure that I won’t go up to some swell hotel and stay for a week. I reckon my bunch of coin will stand for it.”
Never a word about salting some of the money away for some worthy object. Jack Tar of the merchant marine has only two states of existence—slavery aboard ship and license ashore. There seems to be no happy medium for him.
The Sea Horse towed us into our berth. The hawsers went ashore and we were warped in beside the dock amid a deal of clatter and confusion.
There was a crowd to receive us. Some of these people were newspaper men. The story of the wreck of the Seamew had appeared in the Baltimore morning papers and reporters for the afternoon sheets were here for the particulars at first hand. Nobody was allowed aboard, however, although the quarantine officers had given us a clean bill of health down the bay.
I saw standing upon the dock a tall, withered old man, with a very sharp face and white hair and mustache. He looked like a hawk, and was dressed all in shabby black. Without asking, I knew this to be old Jothan Barney, the head of the firm that owned the Gullwing.
I did not see either of his nephews greet him from the ship. Mr. Jim had plenty to do while the ship docked, and Mr. Alf was not far from his brother at any time. Indeed, I was not the only person who noticed that the Barney boys stuck together.
A section of the rail had been removed amidships. A narrow gangway was run out from the dock, the ropes were caught by two of the seamen, and the plank made fast.
“First ashore!” sang out the old man and looked from our Mr. Barney to his brother.
We all fell back for a moment. It was evident that the Barneys would go ashore even before Cap’n Joe. They approached the plank and both smiled.
“All right, Alf?” I heard Mr. Jim say.
“I’m with you, Jim,” was the reply.
And with their arms locked, the twin brothers walked ashore together and went straight to stand before old Jothan Barney!