The Secret of the Reef

“That’s a difficulty,” said Jaques. “They certainly ought to be handed to the underwriters.”

“Just so; but as soon as we part with them we give our secret away. We must stick to them and say nothing until we finish the job.”

“Wouldn’t it be dangerous? You have cut one bag and broken into the box. If the fellows who are working against you found that out, they’d claim you had stolen the gold. Then you’d be in a tight place.”

“The experience wouldn’t be unusual,” Bethune answered with a laugh. “We must take our chances, and we’ll put the stuff in your safe. What most encourages me to go on is that there were several different consignments of gold sent by the steamer and insured, and I can’t take it for granted that all the shippers were in the conspiracy. There’s no reason to suspect the contents of the remaining cases.”

“You hadn’t made out the marks when I last asked you about them,” Jimmy broke in.

“No; they’re hardly distinguishable; but I now think I have a clue. I’m inclined to believe the case was shipped by a man named Osborne. His name’s in the vessel’s manifest, and he has been associated with her owner for a long time. I found that out when I was considering the salvage scheme.”

Jimmy started.

“His Christian name?”

“Henry. I understand he has a house on the shore of Puget Sound. You look as if you knew him!”

Jimmy said nothing for a few moments, though he saw that the others were watching him curiously. Bethune’s suggestion had given him a shock, because it seemed impossible that the pleasant, cultured gentleman he had met on board the Empress should be guilty of common fraud. Besides, it was preposterous to suppose that Ruth Osborne could be the daughter of a rogue.

“I do know him; that is, I met him on our last voyage. But you’re mistaken,” he said firmly.

“It’s possible,” Bethune admitted. “Time will show. I’ve only a suspicion to act on.”

“How do you mean to act on it? What do you propose to do?”

Bethune gave him a searching glance.

“Nothing, until we have emptied the strong-room and we’ll have to consider what’s most advisable then. In the meanwhile, I expect the opposition will let us feel their hand; there may be developments during the winter.” He turned to Jaques. “We’ll lay the sloop up out of sight with the next big tides and then go south and look for work. In the spring we’ll ask you to grubstake us, and get back to the wreck as soon as the weather permits. I think that’s our best plan.”

The others agreed, and soon afterward the party broke up. As they went back to the boat Bethune turned to Jimmy.

“Do you feel inclined to tell me what you know about Osborne?” he asked.

“I only know that you’re on the wrong track. He isn’t the man to join in a conspiracy of the kind you’re hinting at.”

Bethune did not reply, and they went on in silence down the snowy street. Jimmy found it hard to believe that Osborne had had any share in the fraud, but a doubt was beginning to creep into his mind. For a few minutes he felt tempted to abandon the search for the gold; but he reflected that he was bound to his comrades and could not persuade them to let the matter drop. Besides, if by any chance Bethune’s suspicion proved correct, he might be of some service to Miss Osborne. No matter what discovery might be made, she should not suffer; Jimmy was resolved on that.

Leaving port the next day, they found a safe berth for the sloop; and when they had hauled her up on the beach they walked to a Siwash rancherie, where they engaged one of the Indians to take them back in a canoe. Reaching Vancouver by steamboat, they had some trouble in finding work, because the approach of winter had driven down general laborers and railroad construction gangs from the high, inland ranges to the sheltered coast. There was, however, no frost in the seaboard valleys, and at last Jimmy and his friends succeeded in hiring themselves to a contractor who was clearing land.

It was not an occupation they would have taken up from choice, but as their pockets were empty they could not be particular. The firs the choppers felled were great in girth, and as Moran was the only member of the party who could use the ax, the others were set to work sawing up the massive logs with a big crosscut. Dragging the double-handled saw backward and forward through the gummy wood all day was tiring work, while, to make things worse, it rained most of the time and the clearing was churned into a slough by the gangs of toiling men. When they left it to haul out a log that had fallen beyond its edge they were forced to plunge waist-deep into dripping brush and withered fern.

For all that, Bethune and Jimmy found the use of the crosscut easy by comparison with their next task, for they were presently sent with one or two others to build up the logs into piles for burning. The masses of timber were ponderous, and the men, floundering up to the knees in trampled mire, laboriously rolled them into place along lines of skids. Then they must be raised into a pyramid three or four tiers high, and getting on the last row was a herculean task carried out at the risk of being crushed to death by the logs overpowering them and running back.

Jimmy and Bethune stuck to it because they had no other recourse, toiling, wet through, in the slough all day and dragging themselves back, dripping, dejected, and worn out, to the sleeping shack at night. The building was rudely put together, and by no means watertight. Its earth floor was slimy, the stove scarcely kept it warm, while it was filled with a rank smell of cooking, stale tobacco, and saturated clothes. The bunks, ranged like a shelf along the walls, were damp and smeared with wet soil from the garments the men seldom took off; and Jimmy was now and then wakened by the drips from the leaky roof falling on his face. He felt that once he was able to lay them down he would never wish to see a cant-pole or a crosscut-saw again.

But the deliverance he longed for came in a way he did not anticipate.

CHAPTER XX – HOUNDED

Clammy mist hung about the edge of the clearing, veiling the somber spires of the pines, but leaving the rows of straight trunks uncovered below a straight-drawn line. It was a gloomy morning. Jimmy, standing with Bethune and several others beside a growing log-pile, stopped a moment to rest his aching muscles. He was wet through, and his arms and back were sore from the previous day’s exertions. Two strong skids, placed so as to form an inclined bridge, led to the top of the log-pile and the soil between them was trodden into a wet, slippery mess in which it was difficult to keep one’s footing. A length sawed off a massive trunk lay across the ends of the skids, and Jimmy and his companions were trying to roll it into its place on top of the previously laid tier.

Getting their poles beneath it they forced it upward, little by little. When they got half-way, a pole slipped, and for a few anxious moments the men strained every muscle to prevent the mass from rolling back, while their companion found a fresh rest for his pole. The log must be held: they could not jump clear in time. Breathing hard, with the sweat dripping from them, they raised it a foot or two, until it seemed possible to lift it on to the lower logs by a strenuous effort. They made the attempt; and one of the skids broke. Laying their shoulders beneath the mass, they struggled with it for their lives. If it overpowered them, they would be borne backward and crushed. With one support gone, it seemed impossible that they could lift it into place. For a few moments they held it, but did no more, though Jimmy felt the veins swell on his forehead and heard a strange buzzing in his ears. His mouth was dry, his heart beat painfully, and he knew he could not stand the cruel strain much longer. But there was no help available. They must conquer or be maimed.

“Lift! You have got to land her, boys!” cried somebody in a half-choked voice. And they made their last effort.

For a moment the mass hung in the balance, and then rose an inch. Again they hove it upward before their muscles could relax, and now its weight began to rest upon the lower logs. Another thrust rolled it slowly forward – and the danger was past.

Though the incident was not of an unusual character, Jimmy sat down limply in the wet fern to recover breath, and he was still resting when the foreman came up and beckoned him.

“We’ll not want you and your partner after to-night,” he said abruptly.

Jimmy looked at him in surprise.

“As you haven’t found any fault with us, might one ask the reason?”

“You might; but I can’t tell you. There it is – you’re fired. I’ve got my orders.”

The Canadian is often laconic, and Jimmy nodded.

“Very well,” he said; “we’ll go now. This isn’t a luxurious job.”

“As you like,” replied the foreman. “The boss’s clerk is in the shack; I’ll give him your time.”

Jimmy followed him to the office and drew his pay, but the clerk seemed unable to explain his dismissal.

“I guess it’s because we can’t get our value out of the boys in this rain,” he said evasively.

“But why single us out?” Jimmy persisted. “I don’t know that I want to stay; but I’m curious. Our gang has put up as many logs as the others.”

“I’ve no time for talking!” the clerk exclaimed. “Take your money and quit!”

Bethune drew Jimmy away and they crossed the clearing to where Moran was at work. He showed no great surprise when he heard their news.

“Well,” he said, “I’ll finish the week here and then follow you to the city. We’ll need the money.”

“All right,” Bethune agreed; “if you get the chance of staying; but that’s doubtful. You know where to find us.”

They went back to the sleeping shack to get their clothes.

“What did you mean when you said he might not have the chance?” Jimmy asked.

“I have a suspicion that Hank will get his time in the next day or two. The boss wouldn’t want to make the thing too obvious, and Hank’s a good chopper. There are some awkward trees to get down where he’s working.”

“But why should they want to get rid of him – or us?”

Bethune smiled grimly.

“I think we’re marked men. We’ll find out presently whether I’m right.”

Bethune’s forebodings proved correct, for only a few days elapsed before Moran joined him and Jimmy in Vancouver. After spending a week in searching for employment they got work with a lumber-rafting gang and kept it for a fortnight, when they were dismissed without any convincing reason being given.

On the evening after their return to the city they sat in a corner of the comfortless lobby at the hotel. It was quiet there because the other boarders lounged in tilted chairs before the big windows with their hats on and their feet supported by the radiator pipes, watching the passers-by.

“I came across the fellow we got the pumps from this afternoon,” Jimmy remarked. “The last time I saw him he was fairly civil, but he’s turned abusive now. Wanted to know when we were going to pay him the rest of his money, and made some pointed observations about our character.”

“That won’t hurt us,” laughed Bethune. “As we have nothing to give him and the sloop’s safely hidden, he can’t make much trouble. I heard something more interesting. An acquaintance of mine mentioned that they had a big lot of lumber to cut at the Clanch mill and wanted a few more men. If we could get a job there, we might hold it.”

“It seems to me we can’t hold anything,” Jimmy grumbled. “Why that?”

Bethune chuckled in a manner that indicated that he knew more than he meant to tell.

“Boldness often pays, and I imagine that our mysterious enemies won’t think of looking for us at the Clanch mill. We’ll go out there to-morrow.”

They found it a long walk over a wet road, for soon after they left the city rain began to fall. On applying at the mill gate, they were sent to the office, and Jimmy was standing, wet and moody, by the counter, waiting until a supercilious clerk could attend to him, when an inner door opened and a young man came out. Jimmy started as he recognized the yachtsman they had met on the island; but Aynsley moved forward with a smile.

“This is a pleasant surprise! I’m glad you thought of looking me up.”

“As a matter of fact, we are looking for work,” Bethune said laconically.

Aynsley laughed and indicated the door behind him.

“Go in and sit down. I’ll join you in a minute or two, and we’ll see what can be done.”

They entered his private office, which was smartly furnished, and, being very wet, felt some diffidence about using the polished hardwood chairs. The throb of engines and the scream of saws made it unlikely that their conversation could be overheard, and Jimmy turned to Bethune with a frown.

“You made a curious remark about boldness paying, when you suggested coming here. Did you know that young man was in charge?”

“No; it’s an unexpected development. But I’ll confess that I knew the mill belonged to his father.”

“Clay?” Jimmy exclaimed. “The owner of the wreck?”

“Her late owner. She belongs to the underwriters now. It seems to me the situation has its humorous side; I mean our getting a job from the man who’s been hunting us down.”

“You suspected Osborne not long ago,” Jimmy said shortly.

“They’re partners; but, from what I’ve gathered, it’s more likely that Clay’s the man who’s on our trail. We helped him to follow it by registering with an employment agent – and that makes me wonder whether it would be an advantage to change our names?”

“I’ll stick to mine!” said Jimmy; and Moran declared his intention of doing the same.

“After all, it’s a feeble trick and not likely to cheat the fellow we have to deal with,” Bethune agreed. “He has obviously got a pretty accurate description of us.”

“But would a man of his kind spend his time in tracking us? And wouldn’t it lead to talk?”

Bethune laughed.

“He’ll act through agents; there are plenty of broken-down adventurers in Vancouver who’d be glad to do his dirty work. These cities are full of impecunious wastrels; I was one myself.”

“Perhaps we’d better clear out,” suggested Jimmy. “I’d hate to take the fellow’s pay.”

“You needn’t feel diffident. If it’s any consolation, the mill foreman will get full value out of you. However – ” Bethune broke off as Aynsley came in.

“The fishing doesn’t seem to have been very profitable,” he said, putting a box on the table. “Have a cigar.”

“All we caught hardly paid for the net,” Bethune replied. “On the whole, I don’t think we’ll smoke. Perhaps we had better not, so to speak, confuse our relations at the start. You see, though we didn’t know you were the manager, we came along in the hope that you might have an opening for three active men.”

“If I hadn’t, I’d try to make one,” Aynsley answered. “However, as it happens, we do need a few extra hands; but I’m afraid I’ve only rough work to offer.”

“It couldn’t be much rougher than we’ve been doing. I believe we can make ourselves useful; and that Hank here could move more lumber in a day than any man in your mill. But of course you’re under no obligation to take us.”

“We’ll let that go; I need help. You can begin with the stacking gang, but something better may turn up. Now tell me something about your northern trip.”

Bethune told him as much as he thought advisable, and, although he used tact, Aynsley gave him a keen glance now and then, as if he suspected some reserve. Before Aynsley could make a comment, Bethune stood up.

“I’ve no doubt you’re a busy man,” he said, “and we mustn’t waste your time. Shall we make a start in the morning?”

“You can begin right now.”

Aynsley rang a bell and handed them over to his foreman.

For some weeks the men remained contentedly at the mill. The work was hard, but the pay was fair, and the boarding arrangements good, and Aynsley seldom failed to give them a pleasant word as he passed. Indeed, Jimmy felt a warm liking for him; and it was not by his wish but by Bethune’s that their respective stations as employer and workmen remained clearly defined.

One day, when Aynsley had been absent for more than a week, the foreman came to them.

“I’m sorry you’ll have to quit,” he said. “We’re paying off several of the boys.”

“Quit!” Jimmy began indignantly; but he caught Bethune’s warning look and added lamely, “Oh, well; I suppose it’s by Mr. Clay’s orders?”

“No, sir,” the foreman answered unguardedly; “Mr. Aynsley had nothing to do with it. He didn’t even know – ” He broke off abruptly. “Anyhow, you’re fired!”

He turned away from them quickly; and Bethune, sitting down on a pile of lumber, took out his pipe.

“Since I’ve got my notice with no reason given,” he drawled, “I don’t see why I should exhaust myself by carrying heavy planks about. Of course you noticed his statement that Mr. Aynsley was not responsible – though the fellow was afterward sorry he had made it. I’m of the opinion that there’s something to be inferred from his use of our employer’s Christian name, particularly as a big automobile stood at the gate for two hours yesterday. I shouldn’t be surprised to learn that Clay, senior, had examined the pay-roll.”

“What’s the blamed hog aiming at in getting after us like this?” questioned Moran.

Bethune looked thoughtful.

“He may wish to drive us out of the country; but I’m more inclined to believe he means to wear us out, and then make some proposition when he thinks we’re tame enough.”

“He’ll be badly disappointed if he expects we’ll come to terms!” Jimmy strode up and down, his face flushed with anger. “Anyway, I can’t believe that Aynsley knows anything about this.”

“He doesn’t.” Bethune smiled grimly. “I know by experience how the scapegrace son tries to conceal his escapades from his respectable relatives, but I rather think the unprincipled parent who doesn’t want his children to find him out is more ingenious. All this, however, isn’t much to the purpose; we’ll have the boys down on us unless we clear the lumber from the saws.”

They left the mill the next morning and tramped back to Vancouver in a generally dejected mood.

“What’s to be done now?” asked Jimmy as they reached the outskirts of the city.

“How about going down into the States and trying our luck?” Bethune suggested. “We’d at least be out of Clay’s reach – anywhere but Seattle.”

“What – run!” Jimmy exclaimed indignantly. “I stay right here!”

“Me too!” grunted Moran.

Bethune laughed.

“Well, how about turning and charging the enemy? I’ll admit that I’d enjoy a good fight right now – physical or verbal.”

“Won’t do,” objected Moran; “we won’t be well armed until we know just what those other boxes in the strong-room contain. Before we get a chance to find out, I’ve an idea our enemy himself will make a move.”

And he did.

CHAPTER XXI – JIMMY’S EMBARRASSMENT

Jimmy’s courage had fallen very low, dragging with it the last remnants of hope and ambition. Every loophole of escape from poverty seemed closed against him. For days he had tramped the streets of Vancouver, making the rounds of the wharves and mills in search of work, and had found nothing. He loathed the dreary patrol of the wet streets; he abhorred his comfortless quarters in the third-rate hotel; and the curt refusals that followed his application for a humble post were utterly disheartening. Worse than all, he felt that he had drifted very far from the girl who was constantly in his thoughts. He had almost lost hope of the salvage scheme’s succeeding, but he was pledged to his comrades, and they meant to try again if they could finance another venture with Jaques’ assistance. They must pick up a living somehow, and, if possible, save a few dollars before the time to start arrived.

One gloomy afternoon Jimmy stood outside an employment bureau among a group of shabbily dressed, dejected men, some of whom were of distinctly unprepossessing appearance. One had roughly pushed him away from the window; but he did not rouse himself to resent it. He felt listless and low-spirited, and to wait a little would pass the time. Besides, he thought he had read all the notices about men required which the agent displayed, and had offered himself for several of the posts without success. He got his turn at the window at last, and left it moodily; but when he reached the edge of the sidewalk he stopped suddenly and the blood rushed to his face. Ruth Osborne was crossing the street toward him.

Jimmy looked around desperately, but it was too late to escape; he could only hope that Miss Osborne would pass without recognizing him. He did not want her to see him among the group of shabby loungers. His own clothes were the worse for wear, and he knew that he had a broken-down appearance. The employment bureau’s sign suggested what he was doing there, and he would not have the girl know how low he had fallen. He had turned his back toward her and pulled his shabby hat low down over his eyes, when her voice reached him.

“Mr. Farquhar!”

Jimmy turned, thrilled but embarrassed, and Ruth smiled at him.

“I can’t compliment you upon your memory,” she said.

Jimmy saw that the other men were regarding them curiously. He was not surprised, for Ruth had a well-bred air and her dress indicated wealth and refinement, while his appearance was greatly against him; but it was insufferable that those fellows should speculate about her, and he moved slowly forward.

“I think my memory’s pretty good,” he answered with a steady glance.

“That makes your behavior worse, because it looks as if you meant to avoid me.”

“I’ll confess that I did; but I’m not sure that you can blame me. No doubt you saw how I was employed?”

Ruth’s eyes sparkled and there was more color than usual in her face.

“I do blame you; it’s no excuse. Did you think I was mean enough to let that prevent me from speaking to you?”

“Since you have asked the question, I can’t imagine your being mean in any way at all,” Jimmy answered boldly. “I’m afraid I was indulging in false sentiment, but perhaps that wasn’t unnatural. We all have our weaknesses.”

“That’s true; mine’s a quick temper, and you nearly made me angry. I feel slighted when people I know run away from me.”

“One wouldn’t imagine it often happens. Anyhow, I’ve pleaded guilty.”

“Then, as a punishment, you must come with me to our hotel and tell us of your voyage to the North. My father will not be back until late, but I think you’ll like my aunt.”

Jimmy looked surprised.

“You knew I was in the North?”

“Yes,” she answered, smiling. “Does that seem very strange? Perhaps you find it easy to let a pleasant acquaintance drop.”

“I found it very hard,” Jimmy said with some warmth.

Then he pulled himself up, remembering that this was not the line he ought to take. “After all,” he added, “it doesn’t follow that a friendship made on a voyage can be kept up ashore. A steamboat officer’s privileges end when he reaches land.”

“Where he seems to lose his confidence in himself. You’re either unusually modest or unfairly bitter.”

“It’s not that. I hope I’m not a fool.”

Ruth felt half impatient and half compassionate. She understood why he had made no attempt to follow up their acquaintance; but she thought he insisted too much upon the difference between their positions in the social scale.

“I suppose your father learned where I had gone?”

“No; it was Aynsley Clay who told me. My father certainly asked one of the Empress mates what had become of you, but learned only that you had left the ship. You must remember Aynsley, the yachtsman you met on the island.”

“Yes,” said Jimmy incautiously. “My partners and I worked in his mill until a week or two ago. Then we were turned out.”

“Turned out? Why? I can’t imagine Aynsley’s being a hard master.”

“He isn’t. We got on very well. I don’t believe we owe our dismissal to him.”

Ruth started. She was keen-witted and quick to jump to conclusions. Jimmy’s statement bore out certain troublesome suspicions, and she remembered that she had forced Aynsley to speak about him in Clay’s presence. Perhaps she was responsible for his misfortunes; she felt guilty.

“Then whatever you were doing in the North was not a success?” she suggested.

“It was not,” Jimmy answered with some grimness.

Ruth studied him with unobtrusive interest. It was obvious that he was not prospering, and he looked worn. This roused her compassion, though she realized that there was nothing that she could do. The man’s pride stood between them.