The Shark wore away on the other tack, but Captain Rumford did not forget himself again. "Jim," he called presently.
"Aye, aye, sir," came the big sailor's response from the forepeak hatch where he was sitting.
"Come here a moment."
As the big sailor made his way aft, the shipper said, "Hawley, it kind of runs in my mind that you once had some sort of a claim to Hardy's oyster-beds. Am I right?"
"I owned them once," said Hawley.
"You owned them! Why, I never knew that. How'd Hardy come to get them?"
"You see, sir, I staked out them beds years ago when everybody else was plantin' in shallow water. You know them beds is out deep. Everybody laughed at me. Of course I never had no outfit to work 'em, but I figured that some day I might get a boat somehow. And then, too, I noticed that every year planters were putting seed farther out. I figured they'd reach my beds after a bit, and if I couldn't do anything more, I could at least get a few loads of shells down and maybe get a set of spat from the other beds. And I would, too, if I had kept hold of them beds. Why, Lord bless you! Look where they are now—right in the middle of the oyster-beds."
"Why didn't you hang on to them, Jim?"
The big sailor hung his head. "I got to drinkin', Cap'n. You know how I used to hit it up. Hardy got me into a poker game, and when all my money was gone, I put up my oyster-beds and he got them, too. I reckon he had a crooked deck, too."
"I reckon you're right. Everything about that fellow seems to have been crooked."
For a time there was silence. The Shark sailed swiftly on. She was now well up the river. Soon the solitary light at Bivalve shone close at hand. Then the shipper laid the Shark skilfully alongside the pier. They bade good night to Hawley, and in another moment Alec and the shipper were bowling homeward in the captain's motor-car. At least it seemed to Alec as though he were going home.
It seemed even more like home when the shipper threw open the door and ushered Alec into the big house. For his own mother and sister could hardly have given Alec a more cordial welcome than Mrs. Rumford and Elsa gave him. Despite that welcome Alec suddenly became self-conscious and bashful. He was embarrassed by the warmth of the greeting given him. Also he saw in Elsa's eyes a light he had never seen there before. Had he but known it, a similar light was shining in his own eyes. His heart beat with strange and unaccustomed irregularity. More than once he flushed like a schoolgirl. He felt curiously awkward and at the same time unaccountably happy. Now he realized that Elsa would never be the same to him in future as she had been in the past. His lonely vigil in the dark, his hour of supreme danger when only the hand of this girl comrade thrust out through the night had saved him from death, had revealed to him the inner meaning of the friendship that had sprung up between them.
A question arose in his mind, a question that seemed more important to him than anything else in the world. Yet he could not ask that question, and he knew it would be a long, long time before he dared. Still he did not need to ask any question to learn his answer. He could read it in Elsa's eyes. The hour of peril, when she had sat in mute apprehension, listening, listening, listening, breathless in her fear, had told Elsa also that she could never again think of Alec in the old way.
So, although Alec at first was unaccountably ill at ease, he was happier than he had ever been in his life. He was happy in what he saw in Elsa's eyes. He was also happy in the thought that he had been true to the shipper, that he had not betrayed the captain's confidence, that he had really saved his friend and benefactor from great loss. And that was no little thing for a lad still in his teens.
Of course time went by unobserved. Nobody at that Rumford household cared a farthing that night how fast the time went or how late it was. Once more Alec had to relate every incident in connection with his adventure, from the moment he left the Rumford house in the early evening to the moment he returned to it after his rescue from the oyster pirates.
When all the story had been dragged from the reluctant lad, the shipper once more expressed his opinion of Alec's folly in wasting his time over the silly notion that a microscope and a thimbleful of sea water would tell him anything about the value for oyster-culture of a piece of land three fathoms under the waves. Instantly Elsa flew to Alec's defense.
"Now, father," she said, "Alec is doing just what he ought to do, and you ought to be the last person in the world to discourage him. He's going to find out the truth even if he doesn't find the oysters he hopes to, and that's worth a lot."
"Well, all he finds out won't begin to make up for the money he'll lose while he's finding it out," said the shipper dogmatically. "If there had really been anything to find out, don't you suppose we would have found it out in all these years? Why, I've been oystering thirty years and I never heard of such nonsense before. But I suppose boys will be boys. We all have to have our fling. Now that I know you're both so set on this foolishness I wouldn't say another word if it wasn't for this business to-night. Alec means to live aboard the Osprey most of the summer and I don't like the idea. Why, anybody can come aboard of her in the middle of the night and do anything he likes. We can't always be waiting on the wireless to get this youngster out of trouble. I tell you I don't like it."
At the mention of danger to Alec, Elsa's face went pale. Presently she fell into a brown study, from which she awoke only when she heard her father say, "For goodness sake! Look at the clock! We must be getting to bed."
He and Mrs. Rumford bustled off, after bidding Alec a hearty good night. "Now, don't you youngsters stay up any longer," said the captain, when Elsa lingered behind.
"We won't," said Elsa. Then she turned to Alec. "It makes me sick to think of you alone in the Osprey at night, now that you have had this trouble with Tom Hardy. Yet you mustn't quit your investigation, either, Alec. Won't you come home at night and sleep ashore?"
"I can't, Elsa. Think of all the time I should waste, sailing back and forth. I can never get over all the oyster grounds as it is. But I can do a great deal if I am right on the job all the time. And besides, I don't really believe there's any danger at all. That gang has had a lesson that will make them pretty careful. They have seen what wireless will do, and they can never be sure what I might do with it."
"You mustn't trust to the wireless, Alec. You must be on your guard all the time. If you insist upon sleeping in the Osprey, you must pass the nights where nobody can find you. I know a place where you can hide easily, where you couldn't be found in a week. To-morrow I'm going out to the Bay with you and show you the place. I shall feel better about you when I know you are safe there at night. I wouldn't ever run in to the place until after dark. Then if you douse your light nobody can see where you go, and your hiding-place will never be known."
"Bully for you!" cried Alec. "I needed help to-morrow the worst way possible. I'm going to study old Hardy's oyster-beds, and I want to make the best job possible."
"Whenever you need help, Alec, don't hesitate to ask me. I'll help you whenever I can."
"Elsa," said Alec, his eyes shining, "nobody ever had a better friend than you have been to me. I owe my life to you. I can't tell you——" He broke off short, afraid to say any more.
Just then a great voice boomed in the hallway. "Are you youngsters going to talk all night?"
"Good night," said Elsa. She held out her hand to Alec. And he was a surprisingly long time letting go of it.
Despite the late hour of retirement, the shipper's household was astir at the usual time next morning, and that was pretty early. The minute breakfast was eaten the shipper hurried away to superintend the overhauling of his boats, and Elsa and Alec drove to the oyster wharf, laden with a generous luncheon that Mrs. Rumford had packed for them.
"We'll need a setting-pole," said Elsa, as they were about to board the Osprey. "It will be necessary to push the boat into the little harbor I'm going to show you."
Alec borrowed a setting-pole and the two were soon afloat. The day promised to be hot. The sun had risen like a ball of fire. Hardly a cloud flecked the wide expanse of blue sky. But there was a fair breeze blowing, which promised to temper the heat. But neither Elsa nor Alec cared whether it was hot or cold. They were together, and they were engaged in a business of prime importance. Life had a zest that could have been found in no mere idle holiday.
With business of such importance to perform, they could not wait for the winds to carry them, but Alec started his motor and the Osprey went chugging swiftly toward the oyster grounds. About them rose a very sea of reeds and other marsh growths, now beautiful in their soft green, summer hues, and stretching level as a floor.
In a surprisingly short time the Osprey had crossed the bar and was fairly in the Bay. The gray-green water rolled so gently before the soft breath of the wind that the Osprey rose and fell hardly at all. Occasionally a little wave came slap! against the boat, sending a shower of spray aboard, but the occupants of the boat merely laughed when they were sprinkled.
Suddenly Alec bent forward and fastened his gaze on some distant object. Then, after a moment's study, "What do you suppose those white things are on those stakes?" he asked.
Elsa looked. "Pieces of white cloth," she said after some study.
Alec was puzzled. "You notice that all four corners of the bed are marked with white," he said.
The Osprey drew near to the marked stakes. Alec turned and faced landward. "I know what it means," he cried. "That's your father's new bed. It's right in line with both sets of landmarks. Those thieves must have marked the stakes sometime during the day, so that they could see the corners easily in the dark. It can't be very much farther to Tom Hardy's bed. Hawley told me how to locate it. I reckon it'll be on the market before long. I want to have a good look at it."
Alec paused to think over Hawley's directions. "There!" he cried suddenly. "See that dead tree with the fish-hawk's nest in it? It's just in line with those three big oaks that stand by themselves. We're all right in that direction. Off here we ought to have a little clump of trees directly in line with the first range-light." He turned and studied the shore-line in the other direction. "There! Now we've got it exactly," he cried a moment later. "This must be Hardy's bed."
"There are some corner stakes," said Elsa. And after a moment's search, she added, "There is another corner."
Quickly they found a third corner, but the stakes that marked the fourth corner were missing entirely. "It doesn't matter," said Alec. "Three corners are just as good as four. This bed looks as though it were oblong and at least twice as wide as it is long. When he staked it out, I suppose Jim Hawley reckoned he could dredge faster if he could plow long furrows, as the farmers back home would say. It isn't a bad idea. I'll keep it in mind when I lay out my grounds. It's making so many turns that wastes time, whether you're dredging or plowing."
"What shall we do first?" said Elsa. "Let's get right to work."
"We'll take soundings," said Alec. "We'll make a few turns right across one end of the bed, then try it lengthwise. We want to make a very thorough study of these grounds, for if Captain Hardy didn't steal his oysters, then he's got a very good bed."
From the cabin Alec brought a big sheet of paper, which he fastened to the cabin-top. On it he marked the positions of the four corner stakes. "This will give us plenty of room to make notes on," he said. "Later we can copy what we like on the map of the beds. I'll just put down the date and the state of the tide and the weather." He wrote on the paper and handed his pencil to Elsa. "I'll sound if you'll make the entries," he suggested.
"I can steer, too," said Elsa. She took the paper and sat down by the tiller.
Alec closed the throttle of the engine. The Osprey at once dropped to very low speed. Alec got his line ready, and lowered it. "Fifteen feet," he called. Elsa entered the figures on the temporary chart. A few fathoms away he cast the lead again. "Fourteen feet, nine inches," he called. A few rods farther along the line registered fifteen feet, one inch. So it went straight across the bed, the bottom being practically level.
"I'll make one more cast," said Alec. "Then you swing her to port and we'll cut right back across the bed again."
The Osprey was almost at the outer boundary of the grounds. Alec dropped his lead. "Hello!" he cried in surprise, as he watched the line. "Got eighteen feet here! That's funny. Just keep her straight for a few rods. I want to see how wide this hole is." The depth continued constant at eighteen feet. "That's queer," commented Alec. "Bring her about. We'll see how it is a few fathoms farther down-stream."
Elsa brought the Osprey about as directed. "Still eighteen feet," said Alec, sounding repeatedly. They came to the boundary of Hardy's bed. "Eighteen feet," called Alec. Before Elsa could get it written down, he called again, "Fifteen feet." And eighteen feet it continued all the way across the bed.
Once more they came about and crossed the bed still farther down-stream. Again the lead showed fifteen feet, almost to the edge of the bed, when the line suddenly paid out an additional three feet.
"We'll just cover the entire bed this way," said Alec, "instead of running lengthwise as we had planned. It looks to me as though there is a regular trough in the bottom, running right along the edge of this bed. I'd like to know how wide and how long it is. I wonder what ever could have scooped out such a furrow in the mud."
They kept on, crossing and recrossing the oyster-bed, until they had sounded it from end to end. And at every trip across the bed they got practically the same figures—fifteen feet in Captain Hardy's grounds and eighteen along the edge.
"Do you know," said Alec, when he had finished sounding and had reeled up the line, "I once read that the Hudson River can be followed to sea for three hundred miles. That is, there is a distinct furrow or channel in the ocean bottom leading straight from the mouth of the Hudson, as though something had come down that stream and gouged a great ditch in the ocean floor. I reckon it must have been done centuries ago by glacial ice or something of the sort. Anyway, it looks to me as though there is something like that ditch right here in the bottom of the Delaware Bay."
"I wonder what could have made it?" queried Elsa. "Would it make any difference in the oyster-beds along it?"
"By George!" cried Alec, suddenly afire with an idea. "It would make a thundering big slick, that's what it would do, and if my oyster bulletin is correct, that ought to be a prime place for larvæ." He began to examine the water carefully. "That's exactly what it does," he cried, after studying the water far and wide. "We're right in the slick now. It's so big we didn't notice it."
"I guess we were too busy talking to pay attention," suggested Elsa, "or we should have noticed it long ago."
"Well, I can hardly wait to test the water and see what we find," said Alec. "Conditions are just right this morning. The tide has about three feet to rise yet. There ought to be as many oyster fry swimming about now as there ever will be. We'll make as many tests as we can. And we won't strain out so much water as we did the other time. It takes too long. If we test twenty-five quarts of water, that will give us enough to go on. Then we can make more tests."
Quickly Alec had his instruments ready and they began to strain water from the bottom through the bolting-cloth net. Then the sediment was washed into a bottle. While that was settling, they moved on to another spot and strained more water. So they continued until they had several bottles settling.
"Now you begin to count the larvæ," suggested Elsa. "The sediment has all settled in those bottles that we filled first. I will strain out more water while you are using the microscope."
As rapidly as he could, Alec got the sediment on his watch crystals and counted the larvæ. As long as he could hold himself to the trying task Alec continued with his eye to the microscope, picking over the crystalfuls of sediment with his little needles.
"The water's full of them," he cried at last, leaving his microscope. "It's been a mighty poor spawning season, with so much cold weather, though it's warm enough to-day. Yet right here there is no end to the spat. There are ten times as many larvæ here as we found in that ground we tested the other day. Why, that twenty-five quarts yielded 3,400 larvæ," and he picked up the bottle he had just emptied. "The bed's just swarming with spat."
He stepped to the engine and threw on more power. Then he took the tiller. "I want to test a sample from that trough or ditch. And by the way, I'll just sound as we go."
He got out the sounding-line again, and Elsa steered the boat while Alec took soundings. Almost uniformly the depth continued at eighteen feet.
"We must have come five hundred yards," said Alec. "We'll try it here." He stopped the engine, and they strained twenty-five quarts of water from the bottom. When it had settled sufficiently, Alec worked the sediment out on a watch crystal. Then he began to count.
"Now what do you think of that!" he cried, when he had finished his count. "Only twenty-five larvæ I could be sure of in all that water! It's just as the book says. The fry are all collected in that slick. That bed of Hardy's must be one of the very best in the Bay. If only Jim still owned it!"
By this time it was long past the dinner hour, but the two had been so intent on their work that they had paid no attention to the time. Now, however, Alec suddenly awoke to the fact that he was ravenous. "I could eat a shark," he cried. "Let's go to the shore at once and have dinner."
He started the engine and they headed for the point where they had previously eaten. With the tide so well up, they had little difficulty in getting ashore. Alec gathered dry sticks and fixed the fireplace, while Elsa unpacked the basket Mrs. Rumford had given them. Among other things, there was a fine cut of beefsteak.
"Oh boy!" exclaimed Alec, when he saw it. "I'm so hungry I could eat it raw."
His fire was already ablaze. He let it burn down to coals, then added a few twigs at a time. Over this tiny flame Elsa cooked the steak in a little skillet. Alec, meantime, brought water from the Osprey and got the coffee ready to cook the instant the steak was done. He also placed a heavy blanket on the ground under the sheltering tree, and here they spread out all the good things Mrs. Rumford had given them. There were pickles and hard-boiled eggs, and sandwiches, and cakes, not to mention bread and butter and jelly, the steak and the coffee.
"Gracious!" said Alec, when the basket was at last empty. "Your mother must have thought she was packing lunch for a regiment."
"She has seen boys eat before," said Elsa mischievously.
"From which I infer," retorted Alec, "that you do not wish anything to eat yourself. It's just as well, for I think I can get away with all that steak myself. Please pass it over."
He took the frying-pan away from her, but it was only because the steak was cooked and he wanted to sling the coffee-pot over the fire.
Elsa looked distressed. "Aren't you going to give me any of that steak?" she cried in pretended consternation.
"I understand from your remarks that this was all intended for me," teased Alec.
"It will be first-degree murder if you don't give me some," said Elsa. "I'll surely die of starvation in a few minutes if I don't get something to eat."
At the word murder, the fun died out of Alec's eyes. "Please don't," he said, "not even in fun. That word murder has come to have a very ugly sound to me in the last twenty-four hours."
They were silent a moment. Then such a soft light crept into Elsa's eyes that Alec had to jump up and tend the fire to keep control of himself.
At last the meal was eaten. "I'm too full to do another stroke of work," said Alec.
"Then we'll go take a look at the little harbor I have picked out for you."
They poured water on the fire to make sure it was completely extinguished, then gathered up the remnants of the feast, and once more boarded the Osprey. For half a mile they chugged along the shore. Then they came abreast of a little clump of trees that rose some few hundred feet inland, apparently in the very heart of the marsh.
"There's your harbor," said Elsa, pointing to the tree clump.
"But how are we going to get to it?" demanded Alec, searching everywhere for an inlet.
"Wait until the largest two trees come in line," said Elsa. "Then go straight in."
Alec slowed down the Osprey and continued along the shore until the trees indicated were in line. Then he headed directly toward them. In the reeds that lined the shore he noted a tiny opening, like the mouth of the merest tunnel; but it proved to be both wider and deeper than he would have believed. The reeds that choked the little channel bent to right and left as the Osprey slowly forged ahead, then swiftly righted themselves, forming a screen behind the boat. Had there been no mast in the Osprey, she would have been completely concealed before she had gone a hundred feet. The clump of trees stood not more than five hundred feet from the open water of the Bay. The little channel ran almost straight toward it. Alec shut off his engine and pushed the Osprey along with the setting-pole. The little boat slipped through the reeds as quietly as a floating duck. As they came near the trees, Alec saw that there were really two clumps of them standing close together on two tiny islands, with the tiniest little channel between them. Alec pushed the Osprey forward until it came to rest in this little channel, directly between the two islands. So narrow was this passage that he could almost have stepped ashore on either side of this boat.
"Now we are completely hidden," said Elsa. "The reeds hide the hull of the boat and the trees conceal the mast and rigging. A person out on the Bay could search this clump for an hour with the most powerful telescope and I doubt if he would ever discover there is a boat moored here. It's the finest little hiding-place I know of. It has one drawback, though. You can't get in and out when the tide is real low."
Alec gazed about him with delight. The snug little harbor made him think of a pirate's refuge. "It certainly is a bully hiding-place," he said, "though I suppose most of the old-timers hereabout know of it."
"I very much doubt it," said Elsa.
"Then how did you come to know about it?"
"Found it myself," explained Elsa. "Dad left me to hunt ducks along the shore, while he put down some stakes in an oyster-bed near by. I wounded a duck that got away from me. It swam into this little channel and I followed it. That's how I came to discover this place. I don't believe many folks know about it, for I told Dad about it and he had never heard of it."
"Well, anyway, it makes no difference," said Alec. "I have no idea anybody is going to bother me, and if I slip in here after dark and don't show any lights, I don't think anybody would ever find me. What do you call the place?"
"I never named it," said Elsa.
"You didn't? It ought to have a name, sure. What shall we call it? We'll give it a name, and that will be a secret all our own."
"I know," cried Elsa. "We'll call this the Osprey's Nest."
"Fine! That's a dandy name. And it's such a good name for a secret hiding-place. If anybody heard us talking about it they would think we meant one of those old trees that have real fish-hawks' nests in them. When you hear the name osprey's nest come buzzing in your receiver, you'll know I'm as safe and snug as can be. Why, just to tell you I'm at the osprey's nest would mean a whole lot, wouldn't it? And, by the way, you can spare a few moments now and then to talk with me with your wireless, can't you?"
"Alec!" said Elsa reproachfully. "When I shall hardly see you all summer! Of course, I'll talk to you. But I mustn't keep you from your work. You mustn't let me do that, Alec, for I want you to go on with it and make just the great success that I know you are going to."
"Well, when shall I call you? You won't always be at home, you know."
"I'll tell you what. I'll listen in at one o'clock and at seven, and when Arlington sends out the time, whenever I'm at home; and that will be most always."
"Thank you," said Alec. "It will be pretty lonely out here all by myself." He glanced at the clock in the cabin. "Whew!" he whistled. "Look at the time. We must be getting to work at once."
"All right. What shall we do first?"
"I ought to finish this work with the microscope. These larvæ ought to have a few drops of formaldehyde on them if they aren't counted pretty soon; and I haven't any. So I guess I'll go on with my counting."
"Then we might just as well stay here," said Elsa. "It's a good deal cooler here in the shade of the trees than it would be out on the water. It's too bad there's nothing I can do to help you. Are you sure there's nothing I can do?"
Alec looked at his comrade steadily for a moment. "Elsa," he said, "did you ever read that beautiful poem of Milton's in which there is a line that says something like this: 'They also serve who only stand and wait'? You know the reserves are like that. They don't seem to be doing much, for a fact, but the fellows in the front line fight a heap sight better just because they know their comrades are back there, ready to aid them when necessary. So I wouldn't say anything more about not being of use. You know it's been pretty tough going for me these last few months since Dad died and I had nobody to fall back on. I can't tell you what it means to me to have your friendship and that of your father and mother."
"Thank you, Alec," said Elsa. "That's a very fine thing to say. I never thought of the matter in just that way before. You know I really do want to help you, and I don't care whether I help by really assisting in your work or merely by being with you, now that you put it in that way. The point is to get the work done. Oh! I think so much is going to come of all this that I am as eager as can be to get the work finished. Now you attend to your microscope and I'll amuse myself with your wireless."
For a long time there was silence on the Osprey. Elsa sat with the receivers strapped to her ears, now shifting the coupler, now moving a condenser, now tuning to this wave-length, now to that.
"That's strange," Alec heard her mutter to herself, after a long time.
"What's strange?" he asked.
"Why, somebody has been calling and calling Cape May. And he doesn't get any answer. I can't understand it. I haven't any idea who is talking. I never heard his call before. He's WNA."
With a bound Alec was beside her. "That's Roy Mercer on the Lycoming," he cried. "May I have the receivers a moment, please."
Alec slipped on the headpiece and sat down at his key. "WNA—WNA—WNA de 3ADH—3ADH—3ADH," he flashed.
Almost at once came the response. "3ADH—3ADH—3ADH de WNA—WNA—WNA—K."
"Hello, Roy!" ticked off Alec. "This is Alec Cunningham. Just happened to hear you calling Cape May. Can't imagine why they didn't answer. How are you?"
"Fine. How are you? What are you doing?"
"All O. K. Counting oyster larvæ with a microscope just now. Tell you all about it some day. What are you sailing so early for?"
"New schedule. Going to touch at some West Indian ports and Yucatan on way to Galveston. Due back here a month from to-day. That's August twenty-two. Be sure to watch for me. May have something interesting to tell you. How are you getting on? Heard from any of the other fellows of the Camp Brady Wireless Patrol?"
For some time the two old comrades talked as fast as they could flash their messages to each other. Then Alec laid down his receivers and turned to Elsa. "It certainly is good to hear from Roy," he said. "He's one of the fellows from the Camp Brady Wireless Patrol at home. He's a prince, too. No end of pluck and brains. Why, he saved the Lycoming from a collision in a fog, just with his wireless. And he was washed overboard when he was helping to take a line to the disabled steamer Empress during a hurricane in the Gulf of Mexico, and was swept into Corpus Christi by the tidal wave. He got the news of the disaster there to the outside world by wireless that he made himself and so got help for the city. Oh! He's a wonderful chap. How I wish you knew him. He's true as steel. They don't make any others quite so fine as Roy."
"If he's a friend of yours, Alec, I know he's all right. You wouldn't have any other kind of friends. But as for their not making any other boys as fine as Roy, humph! I guess I know somebody that's true as steel myself."
"I must hustle along with my job," said Alec, and he went back to his microscope.
Finally, his bottles examined and cleaned and all his apparatus stowed away, Alec picked up the setting-pole. "It's time we were heading for Bivalve," he said.
He backed the Osprey out from between the islets, turned her, and pushed his way back to the open water. Then, having a favoring wind, he hoisted his sail, and the Osprey went skimming over the waves on the homeward track.
So eager was Alec to return to his investigations that he slipped back to the oyster-beds that very night, so as to be on hand at the earliest possible moment next day. His mind was afire, his whole being was keyed up. He was like a hound on a hot scent. He felt that he had his quarry almost within his reach. He wanted to press on at top speed until he grasped the prize. Neither storm nor calm, neither tide nor sickness, could long have delayed him; for Alec possessed that unusual quality of mind which made him rise superior to obstacles, once his interest was thoroughly aroused. Things that to some boys would have appeared as effective obstacles became to Alec, when he was thus aroused, only difficulties to be overcome. One by one he had surmounted all the barriers that he had so far encountered. Each victory made him only the keener to win another. Of all his struggles, the effort to learn the truth about the oyster had interested him most deeply, because he knew that exact knowledge along that line was the very corner-stone of his success, or, more accurately, of the success he was striving to build.
So daylight found Alec astir and already on his way to Captain Hardy's oyster-bed. For the facts that Alec and Elsa had discovered concerning Hardy's bed and the existence of the depression in the bottom of the Bay, had given Alec an idea that he could hardly wait to test out. He meant to find the entire truth about the little channel. He doubted if any one else had discovered the little trough or furrow in the bottom of the Bay, and if they had, he doubted whether its significance had occurred to the discoverers.
Now he proceeded to the upper end of Hardy's bed, and, dropping his lead, found exactly where the edge of the furrow lay. He noted its position with relation to the corner stakes of the grounds. Then he proceeded slowly down-stream, sounding as he went, to try to locate the inner edge of the ditch. For several hundred feet he felt his way along. Then he took a heavy weight, tied to it a line of the proper length, and to that he fastened a stick a few feet long, to the upper end of which he tied a white cloth. He lowered the weight to the bottom, dropping it, as nearly as he was able, on the very edge of the furrow or ditch in the mud. Then he adjusted his line so that the stick floated perpendicularly, holding the white cloth aloft, a foot or two above the surface of the water. Then he dropped the Osprey down-stream some hundreds of feet, and once more locating the edge of the depression in the bottom, made and anchored a second floating marker. Examination showed him that the three points he had located—the one near Hardy's stakes and the two he had marked with flags,—were practically in a straight line. Once more he headed the Osprey down-stream, proceeding as far as he could go and still see his markers. Then he sounded, and found that he was still over the very edge of the depression. Apparently this depression ran in an almost perfectly straight line. Alec put down another flag. He now had marked the depression for a good many hundred yards.
Now he went back to his starting-point and began to study the current and the appearance of the water. The depression extended in exactly the same direction that the tide followed, so that the water would sweep straight through it, back and forth, back and forth ceaselessly, scouring it clean. Alec recalled what Roy had written him about the jetties at Galveston, and how the tide, sweeping in and out between them, had deepened the channel. To be sure, there were no jetties here to confine the flow of the tide to the depression, yet Alec felt sure that the current would keep the depression clean and perhaps even deepen it. For all time, at least for all calculable time, so far as he could see, the depression would remain in the bottom and create a vast slick along its side. In this slick he believed the oyster fry would be most numerous.
Slowly Alec proceeded along the edge of the slick, passing one after another the markers he had set up, and lifting them as he came to them. The edge of the slick, of course, followed the line of the depression in the bottom. Alec knew it ought to do so, and the white flags proved that it did. On and on went Alec, studying the current, watching every wave and swirl in the tide. At the same time, he kept before him the map of the oyster-beds, marking down on the map as accurately as possible the edge of the slick. How far to the side this slick extended Alec did not know. He could determine that later. What he did know—at least he felt sure he knew it—was that every oyster-bed lying in this slick was a prime oyster ground. He would know for sure when he had made larvæ tests of water from the different beds.
For two or three miles Alec proceeded. The slick was still plainly discernible, and whenever Alec took soundings he found that the depression continued. At last he came to the point for which he was heading—the last lot of ground that had been staked. Beyond that was a vast area that any man might claim. So eager to see what he should find, so fearful and yet so hopeful was Alec, that he almost held his breath as he bent forward and peered out over the unstaked water. Would the slick continue through the unleased areas or would it not?
"It does! It does!" cried Alec aloud, as he sailed past the very last oyster stake. As far as he could see, the water before him was sharply divided into two areas—one that rippled roughly as the tide swept onward, the other as smooth as though it had been rubbed with grease.
Into this smooth stretch of water Alec turned the Osprey. Then, his hands atremble with eagerness, he brought forth his testing apparatus and began to strain water from the bottom through his filter net. Here, there, over yonder, Alec pumped up water, until he had samples from a large acreage. His settling bottles were numbered, and on his chart he marked the location from which each sample came. At the same time he took soundings and tested the water for density and temperature. All these things he likewise set down on his chart. So eager was he to begin his count, that he could scarcely wait to stow away his instruments when he had done straining water. But when he started to use his microscope, he found that the wind had freshened so much he could not work well. It was blowing directly against the current, throwing up sizable rollers, and the Osprey was too unsteady for the trying work in hand. There was nothing to do but get to smooth water, and that meant to leave the Bay, for now whitecaps were breaking everywhere.
At first Alec hardly knew where to go. He thought of running into the mouth of the river. But that idea did not please him because passing boatmen might annoy him or at least interrupt him. And anyway, Alec preferred to carry on his investigations without others knowing about them. He had learned pretty well the fact that not everybody was to be trusted. Alec also thought of going to the point of land where he and Elsa had eaten their dinner. That did not seem altogether suitable, either. Finally he decided to head for the Osprey's Nest. If no one was in sight when he got there, he would go in. If any one were by to watch him, he would pull into some neighboring inlet. As fast as his engine would take him, Alec drove through the waves. When he reached the shore just off the Osprey's Nest, not a boat of any sort was in sight. He shut off his power, pushed his little craft up the secret channel, and soon lay at anchor in his snug retreat. The shade was grateful and the Osprey was as steady as a rock. He could work in comfort and in perfect security.
Hour after hour Alec stuck to his job. At times his eyes ached so from the strain that he had to leave his microscope and bathe them in the salt sea water that he dipped up with a bucket. At noon he paused long enough to cook himself a warm meal and flash a greeting to Elsa. Then he went on with his work. As long as he could hold himself to his task he continued to count. Bottle after bottle he emptied, picking out one by one with his little needle thousands upon thousands of oyster larvæ. Again and again, as the day wore on, he laid down his implements, meaning to quit. And as often he picked them up after an interval, to do just a little bit more. There were limits to his endurance. His eyes would function only so long. But his soul was indomitable. So he kept on and on and on, until dusk found him with his task completed. When he talked to Elsa that night he was able to tell her that he had found the great secret. At least he believed he had. He had discovered an unstaked area that he believed to be as good a place for oysters as any ground in the Bay.
Long after he turned away from his wireless, Alec sat on the deck of the Osprey. By every rule of the game he should have been asleep in his bunk. Physically he was worn out by the strain of his intense concentration. But mentally he was afire. The task that had tired his body had stimulated his brain to unusual activity. His vision was almost prophetic. He pictured the future as he wished it to be. And though his mental image was not an exact representation of life as it proved to be, it was a marvelous approximation. Nor was that strange. For Alec was learning that the more sharply he defined his ambitions, and the more exactly he pictured his path, the more likely he was to see his dreams become realities. He needed a map for his life, just as truly as he needed a chart for his oyster-beds.
Now, as he sat, silent, in the Osprey, his mind aglow with rosy pictures, the difficulties that once had seemed so insurmountable shrank and shrank until they appeared but mole-hills. Though he did not put it in so many words, Alec was coming to realize that a big accomplishment is only a great dream backed by prodigious labor. Labor is the thing it is made of, but without the inspiration of the dream the labor is impossible. So he let himself dream on and on in the darkness, resting on some soft cushions, listening to the gentle sigh of the wind as it stirred the leaves above his head, dimly conscious of the stirrings of birds, the faint splashings of muskrats in the marsh above him, the quavering call of a distant owl. Overhead the stars twinkled. Light patches of cloud floated in the sky. The waters of the Bay washed the shores gently but audibly. The world was in repose. And at last Alec slept with it.
Day after day Alec toiled at his self-appointed task. Under the broiling sun and when cold rains were falling, with the wind whistling through the Osprey's rigging and in periods of calm, he was daily to be seen on the oyster grounds in his little boat. For whole days at a time he did nothing but take soundings and record the results. Other days he spent studying the currents, watching the tides, searching the face of the water diligently. At other times he gathered water samples here, there, yonder, everywhere, and followed that task by the more trying labor at the microscope. With every sample of water he analyzed, and every survey he made of the currents, he became more and more certain that he had found the thing for which he was searching. He knew exactly where he would put his oyster-beds. He would lease as much land along the edge of the depression in the bottom and immediately adjoining the land already staked as he could handle. By taking a long and narrow strip, he would be certain to have his grounds in the very heart of the slick.
No sooner had Alec made up his mind than he laid the matter before Captain Rumford. "I want to lease one hundred acres right here," he said, pointing to a spot he had marked on his chart of the oyster-beds.
The shipper frowned. "What do you want of oyster-beds now?" he demanded. "You have no way to work them, and the tax on them will eat up your savings. You'll have to pay $75 a year rental, besides the cost of surveying and staking your bed. The sum you'll pay out, just to hold that ground while you're earning your equipment, would go a long way toward paying for your boat. Besides, I don't like grounds so far out. The water's too deep. Oysters ought to be planted in shallow water."
"But you have some beds in deep water yourself, Captain," urged Alec.
"None of them is much good."
"Perhaps they aren't out far enough."
"Nonsense. Shallow water's the only good place for an oyster-bed. There's lots of beds out in deep water, but that's because all the grounds near shore had already been staked out and their owners had to take deep-water grounds or none at all. But it's no place for oysters."
"There's Hardy's bed," urged Alec. "That's as far out as any of them and it's a good bed. With proper care it would be one of the best. I've been examining the water there, and it's full of spat."
"Nonsense, all nonsense," said the shipper impatiently. "Elsa has been pumping me full of rubbish about what you are doing. As though you could tell anything about an oyster ground by looking at a few drops of water through a microscope. This foolishness is the only thing I ever saw in you that I don't like. If only you'd drop it and go to work on my boats as I want you to, you'd get on fast. As for your leasing one hundred acres of oyster-land, and away out there at that, why, it's not to be thought of. It's ridiculous."
Alec looked very sober. From the quarter where he had expected help, came sudden opposition. It almost made him hesitate. "Captain Rumford," he said, "I'm mighty sorry we don't see things alike. I know it seems foolish for a lad of my years to be telling an old oyster captain like yourself anything about oystering. But I have to live up to my lights just as much as you have to live up to yours. I believe I'm right. When I'm done with this work I'll know whether I'm right or wrong. If I'm right, then I've found one of the best locations in the entire oyster region to start a new bed. I know it will cost me a lot to carry that bed. But I'm so sure I'm right that I'm willing to risk the money. I'm willing to bet on myself, if you want to put it that way. That matter is settled. The question is, Will you help me get the land I want, or must I ask somebody else to help me?"
"Well, I admire your pluck, anyway, youngster. If your judgment was half as good, you'd be a winner sure. Since you're so dead set on having those grounds, I'll have to help you get them, of course. You're not of age, are you?"
"No, sir. I was nineteen soon after I came to Bivalve. It won't be so long now until I am twenty."
"You have no guardian?"
"No. But I've been told I need one." Alec grinned. "Elsa says so."
"Well, she's right for once. I'll have to lease these lands in my own name and then transfer them to you later."
"That will be all right."
"Eh? You trust the old man, do you? Haven't you learned that you can't trust everybody? You've had experiences enough here to teach you that lesson pretty well. Suppose your bed should turn out to be worth something, and I decided not to hand it over to you? Had you thought of that possibility, lad?"
"Captain Rumford," said Alec, "there isn't anything I've learned better than the lesson that there are some people I can't trust. And while I've been learning that, I've found that there are some I can."
"Thank you, lad," said the shipper, evidently deeply touched. "Thank you. You can put your mind at rest about your oyster grounds. I'll get them and I'll give you a paper showing that I only hold them in trust for you. And I'll do more. If you don't have the money to pay the expenses, I'll lend it to you and you can pay me whenever you can. But that's because I have confidence in you and not in your oyster grounds."
"Thank you, Captain," said Alec. "It won't be necessary. I have the money."
The captain turned away and went to his desk to make out his application for the desired grounds. But all the way to his chair he kept muttering, "The little fool. He's just throwing his money away."
Having decided the question of his own grounds, Alec turned his attention to the shipper's beds. He spent several days sounding them and studying the water above them. Mostly the captain's beds were well in shore. These he had inherited from his father, who had begun oystering before the shipper was born. These beds were usually very productive. In deep water the captain also owned considerable holdings that he had acquired with profits derived from the beds he had inherited. But none of these had ever proved to be very productive. There was never any very great set of spat in them, and unless they were planted with seed-oysters it hardly paid to dredge them. But, of course, the captain always put seed in all his beds and so he had steadily made some money from them. When Alec analyzed the larval content of the shipper's various beds under the microscope, he found that the shallow water was very rich in spat. The contour of the shore made a vast eddy where these beds lay. The beds farther out were located in the strong current, with not the slightest suspicion of a slick or an eddy near them.
When Alec had concluded his examination of the shipper's beds, he went directly to their owner, though he made a wry face as he thought of what was probably before him.
"Captain Rumford," he said, "I've been working out in your beds for several days. Your shallow water beds are very fine grounds, but——"
"Of course they are. Of course they are. Shallow water's the only proper place for an oyster-bed."
"Your other beds, I was going to say," went on Alec, "are not nearly so good."
"Of course not. Of course not. What are you telling me all this for? Think I don't know it?"
"I don't believe you'll ever get a big set of spat in those outside beds," went on Alec. "I don't believe you'd get enough of a set to pay for shelling the grounds."
"Well, well," said the shipper rather testily, "is this supposed to be news to me?"
"I was going to say," went on Alec, choking down a feeling of resentment, "that if you would sell those beds and buy Hardy's bed, you'd make a profitable deal. I'd be willing to wager that you'd get as many oysters from spat in Hardy's bed as you would from the seed you planted. You'd get a tremendous catch every year."
"Fiddlesticks! I never heard of such a thing in a deep-water bed."
"But, Captain Rumford," protested Alec, "don't the other oystermen who own beds near Hardy's get good hauls?"
"I can't deny some of them do," admitted the shipper, "but I can't understand it. That's no place for an oyster-bed, way out in that deep water. They can't expect to have luck always, though."
Alec gave up. It was no use to try to overcome the shipper's prejudices.
Day after day he continued his labors. He was so constantly on the water that those who saw him became curious to know what he could be doing. Now this oysterman, and now that, as Alec ran across him, tried to learn what Alec was doing out on the Bay so much. Occasionally boats sailed near him simply to watch him. At such times Alec pretended to be fishing. Rather he did fish. So he caught many a toothsome meal. He also made a large net of mosquito-netting, which he used for catching crabs. Of course, all this curiosity was aroused, not about Alec himself, for nobody cared much about a homeless lad, but because Alec was supposed to be doing something for Captain Rumford. If the leading oyster shipper at Bivalve found it worth while to keep a man out among the oyster-beds week in and week out, the curious figured it might be worth their own while to do a little examining themselves. The difficulty was that nobody knew exactly what Alec was doing. So it came about that Alec did exactly what he did not want to do. He called attention to his own efforts. But his work was well along toward completion before it was generally known that he was doing anything out of the ordinary. What annoyed Alec most of all about the matter was his fear lest some one track him to the Osprey's Nest and so discover the secret hiding-place. Frequently, when other boats were near at hand toward dusk, Alec came up to the oyster wharf and tied up in the slip at Captain Rumford's pier. He knew that even the most reckless would hesitate to touch him there, under the glare of the pier-shed light and with the watchman within call. So, whether any of Hardy's friends ever wished to harm him or not, Alec came through the summer unscathed, and his hiding-place remained undiscovered.
One day, when August was more than half gone, Elsa called him on the wireless and announced that repairs on Captain Flint's boat, the Rebecca, were completed and the paint dry, and that the Rumfords were going to take their annual family cruise aboard of her. Alec was invited to go along and no answer but a favorable one would be accepted. Of course, there was nothing for Alec to do but put his work aside and say he would go. In his heart he was more than glad to put his work aside. Week after week he had stuck to it, holding himself with iron determination to his task. But now the zest was gone out of it. The long grind was wearing on his nerves. Joyously he looked forward to this holiday.
The next morning he did not put out in his boat, but went to the shipper's office to thank him for the invitation and to see if he could be of assistance in preparing for the cruise. But the instant Alec saw the shipper, he knew that something had gone wrong.
"Bagley's left us," blurted out the shipper, the moment he saw Alec. And there were tears in his voice, if not in his eyes.
"What do you mean, sir?" asked Alec.
"He's going to the Chesapeake next fall. Got a chance to go into partnership with a shipper there. Don't blame him a bit, but Gad! I hate to lose him. He's been with me seventeen years. Never worked anywhere but on the Bertha B. Started oystering on her as a deck-hand. Don't know what I'll do for another captain."
"You can get plenty of them," said Alec.
"Certainly," said the shipper, "but not plenty of Bagleys. Why, I could trust that man with my life."
"Take Hawley," said Alec.
"What!" cried the shipper. "Make a captain out of a fellow that was fired from the Bertha B less than a year ago for being drunk? You're crazy."
"You're foolish if you don't take him," urged Alec. "Why, Captain Rumford, that man's the very soul of honesty. I know him like a book. I'd trust him just as far as I would you, Captain, and that's saying all I know how to say. It's old John Barleycorn you have in mind. But Jim cut his acquaintance long ago. And you know as well as I do that there isn't a better sailor in the fleet."
The shipper was silent a long time. "Hanged if I don't try it," he said at last. "I always liked Jim when he was sober. I'll take him along on this party and see how he can handle a boat. Now don't you give him any hint of what's coming."
"I'm mighty glad you're going to take him," cried Alec. "I haven't a better friend in the world than Jim. By the way, when are we going to start on our little party?"
"Just as soon as we can get ready. It will likely take most of the day to get the boat provisioned and get the stuff aboard that they want to bring from home. We ought to be off in the morning."
"Then I'll call up Elsa and see what I can do to help." And Alec bustled away, joyful in the thought of the little outing ahead of him. Could he have known exactly what was to happen to the little pleasure party, his face would have worn a very different aspect indeed.
Alec could not see into the future, this time at least, and he went about the work of preparing the Rebecca with a merry heart. The ship looked very fine, indeed, as she lay at the captain's wharf, all spick and span, and proudly displaying her new coat of paint. She was considerably larger than the Bertha B. Her masts were stepped at a rakish angle. Her rigging was neat. Her lines were good. For a boat of her size she carried an unusual amount of sail. Her hold had been emptied of all movable tackle and her decks cleared before she had been hauled out for repairs. Nothing had yet been replaced. And in order that the party might have all the room possible, nothing was to be replaced until after the cruise. Even the anchor and the chains had been removed. Inside, the cabin was perfectly bare. But the woodwork had all been freshly painted or varnished, and the Rebecca needed only a few furnishings to make her very attractive, indeed.
While the shipper and Alec were making a hasty examination of the boat, a truck load of furnishings arrived from the shipper's home, and the two at once started to carry the things aboard. There were cushions, and bedding, and chairs, and rugs, and blankets, and wraps, and a host of other things to make the boat comfortable. And there were great ticks to be filled with straw for the men to sleep on in the hold, while Elsa and her mother occupied the cabin.
When all the things were aboard and the truck had gone away, Captain Rumford turned his attention to the ship's gear. He was too careful a sailor not to make sure that everything was right before he set sail. He found everything in good condition. Only the anchor and the anchor chain were missing. The chains had been laid away when the Rebecca was hauled out. It was neither easy nor convenient to get them now. The captain studied the matter for a moment. "About all we'll need an anchor for," he muttered to himself, "is to keep us from drifting at night. I'll just take along that little light anchor in the storeroom. We can bend an old cable on it and it will answer our purpose. If a storm should come up, we'll run into a harbor. Now I'll go see about that little anchor."
The captain grabbed an oyster truck and hurried to his storeroom to get it. A moment later he returned, trundling the anchor and an old hawser before him. Alec helped lift them aboard. Then, while the captain was bending on the hawser, Alec busied himself in the cabin, putting the things there in some sort of order.
Presently came a load of provisions. Alec carried to the storeroom bag after bag. It seemed to him he had brought enough stuff aboard to feed a ship's crew for a year. The provisions he stowed away in the cupboards in the cabin. When Alec was done, the captain joined him and inspected the cupboards.
"Looks to me as though we're ready to cast off the minute we get our crew aboard," he said. "She seems fit to contend with almost anything—especially hunger."
"I can't think of another thing we could wish for," said Alec.
"Unless it was some music," said the captain wistfully. "It never seemed right to me to go on a party like this without some music. I'd have given a lot if Elsa had learned to play the piano, but she just wouldn't. Hasn't a particle of love for music. Funny, isn't it, when I like it so much. She likes to dance, too. You'd think she'd have some liking for music, wouldn't you?"
Alec made no response. But when the shipper drove away in his car, Alec ran to the Osprey and quickly uncoupled his wireless outfit. "It won't be much," he said, "but it's all I can do for the captain. He can have music at night now, anyway. I'll try to surprise him."
He fastened his instruments in the cabin of the Rebecca, very much as he had had them in the Bertha B. With two sticks he made an aerial which he placed flat on the roof of the cabin. The sticks were fastened together like a Maltese cross, and around their ends Alec wrapped strand after strand of wire, bringing the end into the cabin through the tiny window just above his instruments. He made a ground by twisting his wire to a little length of chain, which he fastened over the side so that its end hung in the water. Then he tested his instruments and found they were in order. As far as Alec could see, everything was now in readiness for the cruise.
Doubly delightful to Alec was the little trip that began next morning because of the weeks of hard labor that had preceded it. Just as his work had palled on him because he had been unable to combine any amusement with it, so amusements pall when they are not interspersed with toil. Now Alec's appetite for pleasure was more than whetted. He was ravenous for enjoyment. And being so, he enjoyed everything. The sun that shone so bright seemed merry rather than hot to Alec. The winds that circled about the mastheads seemed to Alec as playful as squirrels frisking in a tree top. The waves seemed to laugh in glee as the wind drove them before it, showing their white teeth in gleaming smiles as they flashed in the sun. White teeth they were, too, that could rend as well as gleam in the sun. Well enough Alec knew that fact. Before many days he was to know it better still. But now he had no thought of care. He had put work aside. He was like a small boy on a lark. Usually rather staid and sober, now he kept the party laughing at his antics. And they were ready enough to laugh with him. For this was a real pleasure party. For the time being, care had been thrown to the winds.
But if the mere joy of being alive and free and with friends could make Alec happy, the fact that he was seeing new things and learning new things gave him added enjoyment. For never, for a single instant, did Alec forget to pick up bits of knowledge that came his way. For well nigh a year, now, he had lived on the waves. He had sailed the Delaware in sunshine and in storm, when the weather was blazing hot and when ice formed on the deck. And yet his knowledge of this great body of water was limited wholly to what he had seen in the narrow compass of the oyster-beds, or to what he had read. Now he was to see with his own eyes the wonders of the deep. For as yet Alec had hardly been out of sight of land, and he had never seen the ocean.
Alec would not have been himself had he not remembered to bring along a map. And it was the largest map of the Bay he could lay his hands on. He saw at a glance that in contour the Bay was roughly pear-shaped. On either shore little excrescences, like the warts and blemishes that come on real pears, stuck out here and there, to mar the perfect pear-shaped outline of the Bay. The largest of these was Egg Island Point, off which lay the light he knew so well. Miles farther up the coast the Rebecca passed Ben Davis Point. And still farther along stretched a wide cove, with the Cohansey River pouring into it, and a little, squat lighthouse standing on a point, to guide the mariner into the stream.
Other points of interest the party visited, too—little summer resorts, like Fortescue, and lighthouses, where they were welcomed in a way that left no doubt of their hosts' sincerity; for callers are few at a lighthouse, and usually they are welcomed accordingly.
In the evenings, the party ran slowly before the gentle night wind, or, anchoring far offshore to avoid mosquitoes, gave themselves up to friendly talk and laughter—all save the captain. For him there was but one nocturnal diversion; that was listening to the music with Alec's wireless.
Sometimes the men went ashore and searched in the salt holes in the marsh for crabs. Or all hands fished for them from the deck of the Rebecca lowering great chunks of white meat on strings, well weighted, and gently raising their catch to the surface when they felt a nibbling at the bait. Then came the fun of scooping the crabs with long-handled dip-nets. Astonishingly often they failed to net them, too, for the wary creatures, despite their seeming awkwardness, vanished the instant they came to the surface. Great, gray-green things they were, with savage-looking pincers that could crush a finger severely if they got hold of one. And although he had previously caught crabs, Alec could hardly accustom himself to their color, so long had he known only the cooked crab of inland restaurants, which had turned red in boiling.
Sometimes they fished for weakfish, using pieces of crab meat for bait. Beautiful, big fish they caught, too. And sometimes they got sea-bass and flounders. And as often as not, they pulled in the troublesome toadfish, which Alec came to detest as much as the sailors on the oyster-boats did.
Day followed day in unbroken pleasure. Now they were here, now there. When Alec told the shipper that he had never seen the ocean, the shipper said he would head for the sea at once. Alec could have a good look at it, and then the party must head for home. Playtime was about ended.
But it was one thing to say they would go to the sea and another thing to get there. The flood-tide held them back. The wind was hardly more than stirring. So fierce was the sun, so intense the heat on deck, that both Elsa and her mother retreated to the cabin. The captain sought what coolness he could find in the uncertain shade of a sail. Big Jim Hawley stood at the wheel, silent, imperturbable. Alec flung himself on the deck near him. From time to time Hawley studied the sky. Great cumulus clouds were forming near the horizon.
"We'll have a storm to-night," he said to Alec.
"The sooner the better," said Alec. "Anything to break this heat wave."
They rolled slowly on. The water gently heaved and the Rebecca swayed with it. There was barely wind enough to keep the sails from flapping.
"We'll never reach the Capes in daylight at this rate," said Hawley. "The days are getting much shorter."
"That's so," said Alec. "Yesterday was the twenty-first of August. It's just two months since the longest day and the days are shortening fast."
Slowly the Rebecca forged ahead. Even the cool breath of the water could scarcely make the sun's heat endurable. Under the fierce rays the smell of paint became almost overpowering. The tar on ropes and rigging almost melted and ran. The fleecy clouds along the horizon bulked larger and larger. Slowly they rose toward the zenith. Late afternoon came. The ship was still far from the Capes. Captain Rumford studied the clouds carefully.
"We'll pull in behind the breakwater when we get there, Jim," he said quietly. "I think that storm will be a rip snorter. We might as well be on the safe side."
They went on. Gradually the sun's rays grew feebler. Gusts of vapor were hurtling across the sky, curtaining the fiery beams. The sky turned a peculiar greenish-copper color. The thunder-heads mounted ever higher. Then the sun was shut from sight. It grew dusk. Darkness came, as sudden as the dropping of a curtain. Afar off, flashes of lightning rent the clouds. Thunder rumbled ominously in the distance. The wind died away. It grew calm as midnight. The Rebecca rolled idly, her sheets flapping. The men got into their oilskins.
"Better shorten sail," said the shipper.
They ran to the halyards. Down came the great canvases. Nimbly they fastened the reef-points and made all as snug as possible.
"Now let her blow," said the shipper. "The more wind, the faster we go. We'll reach the breakwater and heave to. I kind of wish we had a heavier anchor, though."
None too soon had the Rebecca shortened sail. Afar off an ominous rushing sound was heard. The wind began to come in short puffs. Flash after flash of lightning illumined the angry clouds. The roaring sound grew louder. It came on with the speed of an express-train. Over the waves swept a sheet of falling rain like a very wall of water. Alec closed the companionway and jammed on the hatch covers. In another moment the storm was upon them.