Over the waves the falling rain came hissing like steam. It fell in a torrent. In a second the deck of the Rebecca was running with water. The sails tightened and bellied as the wind came smack! against them. The Rebecca trembled all over, then bent to the blast and began to run through the water like a wild thing. Big Hawley stood at his wheel, as steady as a new mast. He handled the ship as though she were a toy.
"Some thunder-storm," he smiled at Alec. "It'll blow itself out in a little while. Nothing to worry about. It'll get us to the breakwater in jig time."
It did, too. Long before Alec had any idea where they were, Jim brought the Rebecca up into the wind, and with her sails close-hauled, drove her shoreward. The rain still fell heavily, but Alec could dimly make out the curving shore-line and across it, like the string to a bow, stretched a black streak that Alec knew must be the breakwater. The waves were dashing on it madly. But the wind now blew almost parallel with the long stone pile. The breakwater gave them no protection. Rather it was a menace. If the ship should drag her anchor and drift on it, her hull would be battered to pieces in no time. Surely this was no place to heave to in such a storm.
"We'll just beat up along the coast, Jim," said the shipper. "It's a windward shore. The storm will blow itself out pretty soon."
The big sailor threw his weight against the wheel. The ship heeled over in the wind. Something cracked like a rifle-shot. The wheel flew around, almost dropping Hawley to the deck. The rudder had broken.
"Overboard with the anchor!" called the shipper.
Hawley and Alec ran forward to execute the order. There was a splash and the anchor rope paid out fast. Hawley gave the ship sufficient line and went aft again to examine the steering-gear.
"Can't do anything with it," said the shipper. "The rudder itself is broken. We'll have to ride the storm out here, then get help."
He went forward and examined the anchor line. Then he looked long and steadily at the breakwater, which was all too close to please him.
"She's holding all right," he said. "We might as well eat while we wait for the storm to end."
They entered the cabin and stripped off their oilskins. "Any danger?" asked Mrs. Rumford, with anxious eyes.
"We're perfectly safe as long as our anchor doesn't drag. It's a little light, that's all. But it's holding well. I don't think there is any probability of harm."
Elsa and her mother got supper. From time to time the captain peered out of the cabin window. All seemed well. They sat down to eat. It was not a merry meal, as some of their meals had been, but the storm had not dulled their appetites and they ate with enjoyment. Elsa and Alec even joked a little. Hawley was silent from habit. Mrs. Rumford was a little apprehensive. The captain was too busy with his own thoughts to talk.
Suddenly the big sailor jumped to his feet. "Feels as though we are movin', Cap'n," he said. He pulled on his oilskins and stepped out in the rain. In a moment he came tearing back. "We're adrift," he bellowed down the companionway. "The anchor line has parted."
Neither the shipper nor Alec waited to don oilskins, but rushed out on deck at once. There could be no doubt about the situation. The Rebecca had swung around broadside to the wind and was wallowing in the waves. The anchor line dangled loosely at her bow. The situation was critical. The breakwater was not far away, though fortunately the wind did not now blow toward it. Plainly they were drifting abreast of it, gathering speed with every minute. And both wind and tide were driving them toward the open sea.
"If only we had put those dredges aboard," said the shipper, "we might hold ourselves yet. There isn't a thing on board we can put down to hold with. If only we don't go on that stone pile, we'll be all right. This storm can't last long, and somebody will pick us up, sure."
Driven by the wind, the tide was running like a mill-race, and the Rebecca was swept along at an unbelievable pace.
The shipper and Alec stepped into the cabin and pulled on their oilskins, then returned to the deck.
"We don't have even a boat-hook or a setting-pole," sighed the shipper. "I suppose they wouldn't be much use anyway, but a fellow could at least try to fend the ship off those rocks."
Fearful, he looked toward the breakwater. Little by little the Rebecca was drawing closer to it. At the same time she was rapidly driving past the great stone pile. Would she clear it or not? There was nothing to do but stand and wait. And the three sailors almost held their breath as they steadied themselves by the rigging and watched. Nearer the boat came to the rocks and nearer, and the end of the breakwater was still rods away.
"She's going to strike," said the shipper. "She'll crash in another minute. We'll have to lower the life-boat."
They ran aft toward the davits, then paused a single second to watch. A great wave was lifting the Rebecca. Up she rose high on the crest, and swept straight toward the breakwater.
"Get the women on deck quick," roared the shipper. "She's going to crash."
Alec sprang for the companionway. The ship gave a lurch, but there was no noise, no jar. An enormous wave, rushing against the breakwater, had rebounded and swept the ship clear. The tide hurled her forward. A moment later, by the narrowest of margins, the vessel skimmed across the end of the breakwater, and shot into the open water beyond. For the moment she was safe.
Straight toward the open sea she went, fast as wind and tide could drive her. The storm still continued. The rain had slackened, though it still fell. The wind yet blew with violence. With every moment and with every foot they drew offshore the waves ran higher. Now driving straight ahead, now swinging in the wind, now wallowing in the waves, and at times smashing stern first into the rolling sea, the Rebecca drove on before the storm.
"Make a flare," said the shipper grimly. "We've got to get help."
The big sailor set about executing his order, but Alec darted into the cabin. Swiftly he threw over his switch. Then, steadying his hand, he flashed the call, "SOS—SOS—SOS." Then he paused and listened.
Almost immediately came a reply. "I have your signal of distress. Who and where are you?"
"Schooner Rebecca," flashed back Alec. "Drifting out to sea between the Delaware Capes, just off Henlopen. Rudder broken, anchor lost. Who and where are you?"
"Steamer Lycoming. About thirty miles south of the Delaware Capes. Should reach you in less than two hours. Keep a flare burning."
Alec leaped from his instrument as though he were shot. "It's Roy," he cried. "It's Roy. The Lycoming is only thirty miles away. She'll reach us in less than two hours."
Again he turned to his instrument. Now he flashed out the Lycoming's call. "WNA—WNA—WNA de 3ADH—3ADH—3ADH," he flashed.
At once came the response. "3ADH—3ADH—3ADH de WNA—WNA—WNA. Have been trying to get you, Alec. Where are you?"
"On the Rebecca," flashed back Alec. "Just sent the SOS you answered."
"Thank God you've got a wireless!" came back the answer from Roy. "Don't worry. We'll find you sure. We've already shifted our course. We're heading straight for the Capes."
"Stand by while I tell the Captain, Roy," signalled Alec. Then he threw over his switch and darted out on deck.
"We're saved, Captain," he shouted through the storm. "The Lycoming is only thirty miles away and is heading straight for us. She will reach us in less than two hours."
Anxiously the three watchers peered into the dark. Aloft swung their lights. In a dish-pan on the deck a flare was burning. From time to time Hawley fed oil-soaked pieces of wood to the flames. The rain had ceased to fall. The wind still blew fitfully, but with lessened violence. The night was as dark as a tunnel. Up and down, up and down, the oyster-boat now rose and fell on the great swells of the Atlantic. At last Alec was within sight of the ocean. But it was little he saw of it or cared to see of it.
What he was watching for was a light. Minute after minute the silent watchers strained their eyes into the darkness. Time passed. A half hour went by. An hour elapsed. Then far off in the dark something glowed faintly. Minute by minute the light grew brighter. It came closer.
Alec darted into the cabin. He flashed the Lycoming's call and got an answer. "We can see the lights of a big steamer," he signalled. "Can you see us yet? We are burning a flare on deck and our lights are burning aloft."
"We see you plainly. Will reach you in a few minutes."
Alec shut off his power. "Come on deck," he said to Elsa.
She followed him up the companionway. Alec tore off his coat and wrapped it around her. Then he took her hand and led her forward.
"Look," he said. "You may never see another sight like this."
"I never want to," said Elsa.
"That is the Lycoming," said Alec. "Didn't I tell you that Roy was a prince? We shall owe our lives to him. He's a wonderful wireless man."
"Will you ever learn any sense?" said Elsa. "How would Roy or his captain have known that we were here if we hadn't had a good wireless man on board the Rebecca?"
Now the Lycoming was close at hand. Suddenly her search-light blazed forth and rested fairly on the little schooner. Slowly the big steamer drew near. Then she stopped. Presently a boat shot into the circle of light. Lusty sailors were pulling at the oars. A line trailed behind. The boat passed slowly to leeward of the helpless oyster-boat, then drew close. A sailor rose to his feet and cast a little line. Swiftly it came hissing through the air. Hawley grasped it before it touched the deck. Hand over hand he pulled the line aboard. The light line was followed by a huge hawser. Eagerly the line was hauled aboard. Big Hawley made it fast. The ship's boat disappeared into the darkness. The sound of tackle-blocks soon followed. Slowly the Lycoming moved ahead. The hawser tightened. The Rebecca swung gently round, then slowly moved ahead. In another moment she was moving steadily through the water.
"Well, I never thought I'd come to this in an oyster-boat," said the shipper. "We might have been in real trouble if that steamer hadn't happened along."
Alec thought they were in real trouble as it was. "I wonder where the Lycoming will take us," he said.
"By George! We must attend to that at once. We don't want to be towed clear off to New York. Call up the captain, Alec, and see if he won't tow us into the Cape May harbor."
Alec hurried to the cabin and called Roy. Then he explained the situation. After a time he got an answer. The Lycoming would tow the Rebecca to the Cape May harbor, but a tug would be needed to take the schooner into the harbor itself. Roy said he would try to arrange for the tug. Alec listened in while Roy was talking with Cape May. Finally Roy called Alec again and said that a tug would meet them. In little more than an hour's time the Lycoming was nearing Cape May. The tug came alongside and made fast to the Rebecca. Then the tow-line was cast off, good-byes were called, Captain Rumford sent his thanks and good wishes to Captain Lansford of the Lycoming, and finally Alec wired a grateful message to Roy from the party on the Rebecca. The big steamer moved off into the darkness, the tug began to puff busily, and before another hour passed, the Rebecca lay safe and still within the harbor. Next day temporary repairs were made to the Rebecca's rudder, and before night the oyster-boat lay snug at her own pier at Bivalve.
The pleasure trip had been a great success—all but the very end of it; and very little harm had come of that. Excepting for the rudder, which was quickly replaced, not a thing was damaged on the little boat. The greatest injury came to the captain's pocketbook. Tug hire and the cost of repairs made the outing expensive. But so long as they had come home in safety, the shipper did not complain.
By the time the Rebecca was in commission again the oyster season was at hand. Orders began to appear for oysters. As was usual at the beginning of the season, there were too few oyster orders to pay the expenses of operating. Some shippers did not start their boats promptly; but Captain Rumford had built up his big business as much by providing service as by selling good oysters. It was his idea that as an oyster merchant it was up to him to provide oysters whenever they were in season. So the Bertha B started promptly.
Now it seemed as though misfortune had marked the shipper for her very own; as though, balked of her prey on that stormy day in August, she meant to pursue the shipper until she got him. An unbroken succession of little accidents occurred on the Bertha B. Now a dredge was lost and valuable time consumed in grappling for it. Now a propeller blade was snapped off by something in the water—perhaps the submerged remains of an oyster stake. Then a piston-rod in the engine broke. One mishap followed another. And it required both time and money to repair each. The shipper's repair bill alone made him look serious.
But bad luck did not end there. From the very start it was evident that it was to be a poor year for oysters. The shipper's boat worked long hours and caught relatively few oysters. As more orders came in, other boats were put in commission. The result was the same. Day after day the boats came in with only half loads. Nor was this situation peculiar to Captain Rumford. Few, indeed, were the shippers who had many oysters that year. In his shallow water beds, or such of them as contained oysters old enough to dredge, the captain got a fair catch. But all the profit he made from these beds, and more too, was eaten up by the expense of working his deep water beds. So far as he could, the shipper took his oysters from his inner beds. But these had been dredged so close in the humming oyster seasons just past, and did not begin to contain as many oysters as the shipper needed.
What was worse, when he had taken the present season's crop from these inner beds, there would be no more to dredge for three years. For these were the beds he had seeded in the spring—these and the new bed far out that Captain Flint had seeded so heavily and that Hardy had tried to raid. Week after week the oyster-boats continued their work, and with every week the captain found himself a poorer man. But there was nothing to do but go on—to borrow money, if necessary, and then borrow more and more. If he expected to retain his customers for future years when oysters were plentiful and profitable again, he must carry his load of loss now. And of course the captain went on.
He was not a superstitious man, was Captain Rumford, but like all sailors he came near to being one. It seemed to him that the loss of Captain Bagley was directly connected with his misfortunes; as though that loss were the first link in a chain of misfortune. Close on Bagley's loss had come the accident to the Rebecca. Then had followed a big string of accidents to Bagley's old ship. Of course, big Jim Hawley, the new commander, was in no way responsible for these, and yet it almost seemed as though there was a direct connection between his coming aboard and these accidents. What Captain Rumford forgot was the fact that the Bertha B, like the one-hoss shay, had reached a point where she was almost ready to go to pieces. She was the oldest boat in the captain's fleet. She had seen continuous service for dozens of years. Her engine was the very oldest in use among the oyster-boats. Nothing can wear forever, and the Bertha B was reaching the point where she would have to be laid on the shelf. It was big Jim Hawley's misfortune that he assumed command of her at that particular moment.
Had Captain Rumford only thought of it, he could have balanced a whole string of fortunate events against this string of unfortunate ones; and these had begun with the coming of Alec. The largest bead in this string was the fact of their rescue on the Rebecca. There were other beads that at present Captain Rumford failed to note at all, or even to understand that they were pieces of good fortune, as, for example, Alec's survey of the oyster waters. In good time, however, he was to see that matter in its true light.
As for Alec, he had never toiled so hard in his life. A year of unremitting labor had taught him how to work. Not only was he able to hold himself rigidly to his tasks, but he could accomplish more in a given time than he had ever done before. Nor was that strange. He was merely acquiring the skill that comes of practice. For now Alec felt like an old hand in the oyster business. He had passed a full year as an oysterman. He had seen every phase of the oyster business. He had learned as many actual facts about oystering as almost anybody at Bivalve knew; and he had acquired many that most of his fellow oystermen would never understand. What he still lacked was the wisdom that comes from long experience. Only time could give him that. Yet he was a generation ahead of his fellow oystermen. He was the first of the oyster pioneers of the new school.
Hard, indeed, must have been the luck that followed the Bertha B, when with two men like Alec and Captain Hawley aboard her she was still a failure. For Captain Hawley was a new Hawley, indeed. He still had all his old strength and courage, all his innate good-nature, all his deep knowledge of oystering as it had been practiced. And he had more. He had been recreated. His ambition had been again aroused. He had been fired afresh with the determination to climb up in the oyster business. His unexpected elevation to the captaincy of a ship had stimulated and aroused him to the utmost. His association with Alec had brought out the best that was in him. And these two comrades, Alec and Captain Jim, worked to make things go for the shipper, as few men ever worked for another. They drove the ship, they drove the crew—by example rather than compulsion—they made everything work as close to one hundred per cent. efficiency as is humanly possible—and yet they failed. No matter what the obstacles, they could have dredged the oysters, had there been oysters to dredge; but they could not make oysters.
Again and again Alec went over with Jim the life-history of the oyster, for now Captain Hawley was as eager to learn the real truth about oysters as once he had been indifferent to that truth. In his study of the oyster-beds in future years, Alec knew he would no longer have to work alone. Now they tried to account for the poor yield of oysters. For everywhere the yield was poor. Nobody had a good crop. And more than one shipper saw bankruptcy looming in the offing. Every aspect of oystering Alec and Captain Jim considered as they sat by the cabin fire in the Bertha B at night. The tide, the bottom, the storms, the quantities of seed used. And here Captain Jim's memory was of wonderful help. Apparently he knew all about the weather for years past. Eventually they hit upon the truth. The year in which the present season's catch was planted had been the coldest in a decade. Storm had followed storm. And finally, seed had been scarce.
"I think we have solved it," said Alec at last. "It was too cold for spawning, so there were few larvæ in the water. The storms must have shifted the sand and mud in the bottom and smothered many oysters. On top of all that there were few seed to plant. No wonder there are no oysters this year."
"Alec," said the big sailor, "if what you say is true, and I now believe it is, there won't be many oysters next season, either, or the year after. For we had three cold, stormy springs running."
Alec considered the matter a while. "It will go tough with the shipper," he said, "for this year will clean up his inshore beds pretty well. He can't get anything out of them for three seasons. And I don't believe there'll be many oysters in his other beds. We must think what we can do to help Captain Rumford."
In every way that he could, Alec was assisting the captain. Every day when the Bertha B came in from the oyster grounds, Alec dropped off at the pier and hustled to the office to help the shipper with the office work. And now he was permitted to do some of the bookkeeping. For, with things going so badly on his boats, the shipper had often to be away from his office. There were banks to be visited, merchants to be consulted, ship-chandlers to be seen. His line of credit was worrying the shipper quite as much as his line of boats. For he understood by this time that he would have to operate at a loss for the entire season.
Sometimes there came a dull day when Alec could attend to his shell business. Now that he had lost Hawley as a partner, he had had to employ some one else to gather his shells. He had found a young lad, who was strong and willing to work, and who had given excellent service. Work, rather than workers, was at a premium this season, for already many boats had stopped running, and Alec had to pay no more for his new assistant than he had formerly paid to Hawley. And as he continued to live on the Bertha B, Alec was still able to save several dollars each week. This year he would have all the shells from all the shippers, and he was certain of a good profit. From this he meant to give his helper a generous bonus.
In due time Captain Hardy and his accomplices were tried. Alec had to appear as a witness against them, but he found that he had the moral support of every honest shipper at Bivalve. And this time, true to prediction, Hardy did go to prison, and every one of his pals went with him. Their assault on Alec, and their evident intent to kill him, had as much to do with their getting a prison sentence as the actual theft of oysters did. So it came about that Alec was relieved of the danger of personal injury.
Slowly the winter passed. Daily Alec's admiration for the shipper grew. Now that he was helping with the books, Alec understood how very hard hit the shipper was. He thought he understood the very sober face and the worried look the captain carried. But never a word escaped the captain's lips that would lead any one to think he was in difficulty, and even Alec never guessed the actual truth.
Spring came. This time it was a warm, balmy spring. Earth and water and air warmed up early and stayed warm. If only the oystermen had known it, this was the season of all seasons to put down shells. But the oystermen were in poor condition to do much of anything. There was hardly a man among them who had not lost money. More than one of these almost lost his faith with his money. In consequence, grounds were shelled lighter than they had been in years.
But Alec had not lost his faith nor his determination. Everything that he saw and read and heard tended to increase his belief that scientific oystering would pay as the old rule-of-thumb style of oystering had never paid. And the more he became convinced of that fact, the readier he was to back his judgment with his cash, to bet more and more heavily on himself. To him that hath, the Good Book tells us, shall be given. Alec found it was even so. He had the knowledge. He had the oyster-bed. He had the shells. And with many boats idle, he had ships aplenty at his command. All that he had he risked on the shelling of his beds. He put down bushels where other planters ordinarily planted baskets. And he piled his shells in windrows transversely to the current. Shells by the ton he planted in his bed, stopping only when his money was entirely exhausted. When finally he had to end his efforts, he found that he had shelled his grounds almost to the last rod.
But it had required more courage to do so than Alec had foreseen. He had full confidence in his own judgment, and he had the support of Hawley, but Captain Rumford had stormed and stormed at what he termed Alec's folly. For the shipper had Alec's welfare very much at heart, and to him there seemed very little difference between dumping dollars and dumping shells into that great depth of water. In his own mind he was perfectly certain that Alec had parted with every one of his hard earned dollars that had gone into the shelling of the new bed.
But despite the shipper's opposition, Alec had persevered. Summer found him with an empty pocket, but full of hope. And it found him well toward his twenty-first birthday. But what a different lad he was from the high school boy who had landed at Bivalve only a little less than two years previously. Hard physical labor had broadened and built him up. He was close to the six feet Captain Bagley had predicted for him. He was as powerful as an ox. His courage had grown. His mind had expanded with his body. His determination to climb up had become stronger and stronger. The friendship between Elsa and himself was as solid as a rock. It was founded on mutual respect and confidence. Trust was its corner-stone.
Nor was Elsa the only one who trusted Alec, nor yet the shipper and Alec's immediate friends. Everybody at the oyster wharves had confidence in him. They knew his ambitions. They also knew he would achieve them. Many a man among them would have risked his money on Alec as confidently as Alec had done himself and would have done so gladly. For all money and wealth in the world is won through the efforts of human beings. And far-seeing business men are ever looking for dependable lads to invest in, just as much as they are on the watch for other good bargains to buy. But of all this Alec as yet had little realization. All he understood was that he was keeping faith with himself and other men and that he was slowly but surely forging ahead.
During the two years that followed, matters went from bad to worse for the shipper. Even as Captain Hawley had predicted, the dearth of oysters continued. Day after day the fleet came back from the oyster grounds with the lightest of loads. But expenses were as heavy as ever. Gloomy, indeed, were these days at Bivalve. Credit was strained to the utmost. Ship-chandlers, merchants, supply houses, and banks were carrying accounts long overdue, and lending still more money to men unable to pay what they already owed. The lenders' only hope of getting out what they had already put into the oyster business lay in putting in still more, in carrying the shippers until the oyster business became prosperous again. Yet there was a limit even here, and now one, and then another shipper went to the wall.
Though nobody guessed it, Captain Rumford was in worse shape than any other planter in the business. His loans were so widely scattered, however, that not even the bankers suspected his actual condition. Bravely he fought to stave off a smash. Finally he came to the point where he had to sacrifice something or lose all. He sold a large oyster-bed. Three years previously it would have brought him double the price he now got for it. But now the oyster business was in the worst sort of a depression. Nobody wanted oyster-beds at any price. Shippers could not work what they already had. So for a time the captain's offer went begging. Then finally some one who had money picked up the bargain.
Alec alone of the shipper's forces saw the oyster ground change hands without sorrow. It was one of the beds that Alec had condemned. He believed the shipper had benefited rather than harmed himself by the sale. In his opinion Captain Rumford would have been wise to sell his poor beds and work his good beds more intensively. He tried to tell the shipper something of this, but it was cold comfort to the captain.
Weeks passed. Things grew steadily worse in the oyster business. Yet there were exceptions to the general rule. More than one shipper was making money. Anybody who had oysters would have made money, for as oysters became scarcer the price rose higher. And some shippers had them. Day after day their boats came in well laden. Day after day their slips were occupied by well filled oyster scows, their piers encumbered with long rows of bulging oyster sacks waiting to be trundled aboard the trains. With his eyes open to all that was doing, Alec noted who these fortunate shippers were. He was much about the piers now, for sometimes for days on end the shipper kept him in the office to look after things, while the shipper himself was absent on business. Daily Alec made it a point to note who was shipping oysters in quantity. Now he dropped a casual question here, now a joking inquiry there, until he amassed an amount of information that was amazing. For he was finding out far more than the mere matter of what planters had oysters. He was ascertaining where each man's oysters came from, and whether they were principally planted oysters or oysters that had set themselves in the various beds. Alec even tabulated the information he got, and when his table was complete, he examined his charts of the oyster-beds in the light of it.
He now possessed the most complete data about the oyster grounds that any one had probably ever collected. For his chart showed him, not only the contour of the Bay and the location and ownership of the various oyster-beds, but to a large extent the contour of the bottom of the Bay, the depth of water at different points, the nature of the bottom, whether muddy or sandy, while every principal slick and swirl and eddy was plainly indicated. Now, as he studied these data, he wanted to shout for very joy; for again and again he found proof of his own beliefs about oysters, and confirmation of the facts he had gotten from his little book. Here were planters with beds located much like the deep water beds of Captain Rumford, who were getting next to nothing. Here were others, with beds bordering a slick, like Captain Hardy's, who were bringing in good catches of oysters, while still others whose grounds lay in some great eddy, like Captain Rumford's inshore beds, were coining money through their good hauls. Only where heavy plantings had been made were there good crops in those areas that Alec considered poor locations. Here was confirmation, indeed, here was proof, in very truth, of the convictions that had formed in Alec's mind. He believed that the truth about oyster grounds could be learned by any one who would study diligently, as he had, and with an open mind. For Alec never doubted that to him the truth was now an open secret.
All that he learned only convinced him the more that Captain Rumford's enforced sale of his deep water beds was not the calamity the shipper considered it. So he felt little distress when Captain Rumford was compelled to sacrifice still another of his deep water holdings. But he was frankly puzzled. He could not understand why this sale was necessary. Although he knew that the shipper was losing money steadily, he had a very fair idea as to the extent of these losses. To Alec it seemed as though the sale of the first bed should have enabled the captain to come through the season safely; for, though the bed had gone at a sacrifice, nevertheless, the sum actually received for it was large. That, with the money the captain did have, Alec thought, should have carried him through the season. Yet it was no time at all before the shipper was again in desperate straits. When the shipper parted with still another of his holdings, Alec was dumfounded.
He went to Elsa with the matter. "Do you know," he asked, "why your father found it necessary to sell his third oyster ground?"
Elsa looked at him searchingly. Alec misunderstood the look. "I am not trying to pry into your father's affairs, Elsa," he said, "but you know——"
"Of course you aren't, Alec," she replied. "Did you really think I believed you were? You ought to know me better by this time, Alec. I would never suspect you of doing anything dishonorable or discreditable. But your question startled me. I didn't even know that father had sold another oyster-bed. But I know he's deeply in trouble. Night after night I hear him talking to mother about things, though I don't know what they are saying, and mother looks so worried. And we have to be so careful about expenses, Alec. Father has always given me almost everything I asked for. Now he says he can't afford to spend a cent that he doesn't just have to. I don't know what it all means, but I know he's in trouble."
"Well, Elsa, you know I help keep his books, and I can't help knowing something about his business. He lost money last year and he's losing money this year. But the loss isn't so terrible that it should cause all this distress. At least I don't see how it can be. Yet your father is terribly worried. I can see it in a thousand ways. And he has sold three oyster grounds now, and yet seems as hard pressed for money as ever. You do know that I don't want to pry into his business, Elsa, but I'd like to know more about it in a perfectly honest, friendly way. Likely there isn't a thing in the world I can do to help him. But if there is, I want to do it. That's why I'm asking you the present question."
"Thank you, Alec," said Elsa. "That is very fine of you. I know you mean every word of it. And I know it would give you pleasure to help father. But I am as much puzzled as you are. And what you say worries me. Come to me to-morrow night, and, meantime, I will see if I can learn what is the matter."
A very sober-faced Elsa it was who greeted Alec on the next night. "Come," she said. "Let us take a walk. I have lots to tell you, but I cannot tell it here."
They left the house and walked in the moonlight along the cool country road. On his arm Alec could feel Elsa's hand tremble. "Oh, Alec!" she almost sobbed, when they had walked a little distance. "It's terrible, just terrible. Father thinks he's going to lose everything he has—his oyster grounds, his boats, all his stocks and bonds and money, and even our very home. He says he doesn't know what is to become of us. He's too old to make another fortune and we may have to go to the poorhouse." She broke down and stopped in a flood of tears.
"Elsa, Elsa—dear," said Alec, "don't cry. Surely it cannot be so bad as that. I cannot see how his indebtedness can be so great. He isn't losing so terribly much."
She laid her head on his breast and Alec passed his arm protectingly around her shoulders. "It isn't the oyster business at all, Alec. He has some other debts we never even suspected. I asked him what was the trouble and he told me everything. He said it would come easier if I could prepare myself for the crash."
"But tell me about it, Elsa. What are these debts? Has your father been speculating?"
"No, Alec. But he has made large investments on the partial payment plan. If the oyster business had kept up the way it was going for two or three years, he could have met his obligations nicely and canceled his indebtedness. Now he not only has no revenue from his oysters to meet the payments, but he is getting in debt deeper every day he runs his boats."
"Why doesn't he stop running them?"
"Oh! He can't, Alec, he can't. He doesn't dare let anybody know the situation, for nobody suspects it yet."
"But surely the banks will help him out. Why, if he has an equity in a valuable property, even if it isn't fully paid for, the banks will gladly lend him money."
"Oh, Alec! That's just where the trouble is. He's borrowed every cent that anybody will lend him. He's tried and tried, and he can't borrow another penny."
"But surely he can't be so desperately off as you think, Elsa."
"I'm afraid it's worse than I think. Mother has been crying all day. Father said flatly that he didn't think there was a particle of hope. He'll hang on as long as he can, in the hope that something may save him. By selling more oyster-beds and his boats, he says he can keep his head above water for a little while, but if he sells his grounds and his boats, how is he ever to pay the debts he owes? Oh, Alec! It's terrible!"
"Little girl," said Alec, "if I were to tell you that what you have just told me makes me almost happy, I suppose you'd never speak to me again."
"Oh, Alec!" cried Elsa springing away from him. "Whatever do you mean? You can't mean what you say."
"No, Elsa. I don't. I am distressed beyond measure about your father. But if your father is in such bad condition financially, you wouldn't call him rich any longer, would you?"
"Rich! Why, Alec, we'll soon be paupers. That's the very word father used."
"Then if you are a pauper, Elsa, you wouldn't think me a fortune-hunter if I asked you a question that's been in my heart for months, would you?"
"I—I—I don't know," faltered Elsa. "How can I know when you haven't even asked me?" But her tone showed very plainly that she knew.
"Are you sure you want me to ask you?" said Alec, raising her face with his hand and looking straight into her eyes. "I'll wait—if you wish it."
"Please—ask me," she said.
Alec bent his head and whispered in her ear.
"Are you asking because you really don't know, or just because you want to hear me say yes?" asked Elsa, archly.
"How could I know, when you haven't told me?" retorted Alec. "And anyway, I do want to hear you say yes."
"Then I'll say it. Yes."
"Thank you, Elsa," said Alec, pressing her hand. "Now that I know, I shall not bother you any more. What I must do, what we all must do, is to try to save your father."
"Oh! If only he could get oysters, he'd pull through sound enough. I'm sure of it. Prices were never higher. The shippers that have them are coining money. If only father's beds would yield as they sometimes do, he could meet all his interest charges and gradually pay off his debts."
"Then there's just one thing for me to do—find those oysters for him."
Far into the night Alec lay awake, turning the situation over and over in his mind. Where could he find the oysters for Captain Rumford? Find them he must. Never could he see his friend and benefactor, the man who had given him a start and who was helping him up the ladder—never could he see him go to the wall if by any possibility he could prevent it. And now, if he could only find the oysters, he could prevent it. But where could he find the oysters? Where could they be had at a reasonable figure?
He got up and lighted the lamp. Then he got his charts. Carefully he examined his notes. He had marked down every bed in the Cove that was producing well. One by one he examined the beds he had listed. Not one of them offered the slightest solution to his problem. The men who owned them were working them to capacity. He could hope for no help there. Again and again he went over his list, only to become more and more certain that no oysters were to be had.
In despair he turned to his chart itself. Bed after bed he examined, still without success. Then he came to Hardy's bed. Why hadn't he thought of it before, he asked himself. There must be oysters there. If what he had read about oysters was true, there must be oysters in Hardy's bed. There must be quantities of them. Hardy had had plenty of shells down. Alec knew about the shells. He didn't know whether Hardy had planted many oysters or not. But if the shells were there, even if Hardy hadn't planted any seed, the bed must be loaded with oysters, Alec felt sure. Alec had examined the water in the bed. He knew it was swarming with spat. There must be oysters there. For the bed had lain untouched since Hardy went to prison. During the hard times that had come upon the oyster business these few years, almost nobody had bought oyster-beds or wanted to buy any. And when they did buy, they wanted to secure grounds from shippers known as careful oystermen, men like Captain Rumford, who took care of their grounds and worked them; not men like Captain Hardy, who was known to be reckless and careless, and who never took care of his beds. So there they had lain, untouched through all these months. There Alec could find oysters. There he must find them. For if he could not get them there, he could not get them at all. It was Hardy's bed or nothing.
Now he got out his bank-book and counted to the last cent the money he had on deposit, in his clothes, and owing him. Then he got his shell records. His shell boy kept track of the number of bushels he gathered from day to day, and each week Alec posted the record in his shell book. So he knew almost to a basket what he had. The season was well along, his pile of shells was large, though not so huge as it would have been in a good year. But it was large enough. The shells in it were worth hundreds of dollars.
Next day, his shell book in his hand, Alec went to the bank where the captain had his account. He was well known there. He often made deposits for the shipper, or drew the pay-roll for him. He was listened to attentively. He wanted the bank to lend him a sum equal to the present value of the shells. The bank could have the shell pile as security. The pile would grow larger day by day.
"What do you want of the money?" the cashier asked him.
"I know where there is an unworked oyster-bed that I believe has oysters in it. I want to lease it and work it."
"Suppose there are no oysters in it. What then?"
"But there are."
"How do you know? Have you been dredging in it?"
"No, sir; but I know. I've been studying the waters of the oyster grounds for three years. I know every bed in the Cove. I know every slick and swirl and eddy. I know where the oyster larvæ are thick and where they are few. I know where you will get rich yields of oysters by shelling and where you will get hardly any. And I know there are oysters in this bed."
"See here, young man," said the banker, "I don't understand all this. Nobody else ever talked to me this way about oysters and oyster-beds before. And I've been dealing with oystermen all my life. Are you trying to stuff me?"
"Of course you never heard anything like it," said Alec, "for nobody ever did these things at Bivalve before. I am the first oysterman here of the new type. There will be scientific oystermen aplenty in a little while."
"I want to know more about this. Just come back into the directors' room and tell me more about it."
Half an hour later Alec walked out of the directors' room, his face shining. He signed a note and shoved it through the window to the cashier.
"That's all right, Mr. Cunningham," said the cashier. "I'll put this sum to your credit. And remember, if you need more we shall be glad to help you out."
Alec thanked the banker and walked hastily out. "Now who'd have thought that the mere story of what I've been doing would make him lend me the money?" he said to himself. What Alec did not understand was that it was his own character and not his story of scientific oyster methods that got him the money. Like Captain Rumford and other men, the banker, too, had been watching Alec through the years.
Straight to a lawyer Alec now hurried, with instructions to lease Hardy's oyster grounds. "Lease them on a royalty basis, if you can, at so much per bushel," said Alec. "If you can't get them that way, pay a flat sum. I can give you so much now in cash, and the remainder from month to month as we dredge the oysters."
In a few days the lease was secured. Hardy wanted a lump sum. Alec signed the agreement and drew his check for all he had in the bank. "Now," he said to himself, "everything I've got in the world is at stake. I've backed my judgment to the limit. If I lose, I'll have to go in debt to pay what I still owe Hardy. If I win, the shipper is saved."
From the lawyer's office Alec went to the shipper's home. He found Elsa, as he had hoped he would, and told her what he had done.
"Oh, Alec!" she said. "I can't begin to tell you how fine you have been. If only you do get the oysters—won't it be wonderful!"
He sought out the shipper. "Captain Rumford," he said, "I wish you would lend me the Bertha B for a day."
The shipper looked at him in astonishment. "What do you want of the Bertha B?" he asked curiously.
"I've leased Hardy's oyster-beds," said Alec quietly. "I borrowed the worth of my shell pile and added all my savings to that and paid it down on a lease, and I still owe money on it. I want to see if there are any oysters in the bed."
Captain Rumford looked at his assistant as though the latter had suddenly gone crazy. "You're joking," he said.
"I'm telling the simple truth," replied Alec. "I very much want to know whether there are any oysters in that bed. Wouldn't you, if you had leased it?"
"Alec! Alec!" cried the shipper sternly. "Have you lost every bit of sense you ever had? You won't get a dollar's worth of oysters out of that bed. I've told you time and again those deep water beds are no place for oysters."
"You have, indeed, Captain Rumford," said Alec. "I know exactly what you think of them. What I want to know now is whether you'll lend me the Bertha B for a day."
"You might as well know the truth first as last," said the shipper. "There is nothing so terrible as suspense. Take the boat and welcome." And the shipper turned away with his face so haggard that it made Alec's heart ache.
Twenty-four hours later the Bertha B came plowing up to her pier. Alec leaped ashore and ran to the shipper's office. "Captain Rumford!" he called, his eyes shining, his voice vibrant with emotion, "Will you please come out on the pier?"
The captain came slowly down the stairs. In looks he had aged ten years. His face was drawn and haggard. His brow was deeply furrowed. Dark circles were about his eyes. His step was uncertain, almost shambling. His shoulders were stooped. Alec was shocked when he looked at him.
"What is it?" asked the shipper in a dull, lifeless tone.
"Please come look at the Bertha B. I just wanted you to see her before we go to the float."
The shipper followed Alec down the pier. Half-way he stopped dead in his tracks, paralyzed with astonishment. The Bertha B sat so low in the water her decks were almost awash. Her cabin, her hatches, her deck, her forepeak, all were covered with oysters. The boat was fairly swamped with them.
"Oysters!" gasped the astonished shipper. "How many have you? Where did you get them? What are you going to do with them?"
"There's more than a thousand dollars' worth," said Alec. "We are going to put them on your big float up the river."
"But where did you get them?"
"In the bed I just leased—Tom Hardy's bed. Come into the office and I'll tell you all about it. I don't want to do it here."
Alec waved his hand to Skipper Hawley, then took the shipper by the arm and led him up to his office.
"Captain Rumford," he said, "there are oysters and oysters and oysters out there. I can bring you in a thousand dollars' worth a day. While we were at it, we just looked at my grounds and they're simply covered with oysters, too. There are tons and tons of them in my beds. They are a little too small to dredge yet, but they'll be all right next fall. And your own shallow beds will be ready to dredge then, too."
The shipper fairly gasped. "You got those oysters out in that deep water?" he said. Then he asked, "What are you going to do with them now that you have them?"
"That's just what I want to talk about, Captain," said Alec. "I've got the oysters. You've got the boats. If we could just make some sort of agreement—if we could somehow combine forces—why, Captain, if you'll just go ahead and dredge oysters for yourself until you get on your feet again, and then dredge a few for me——" Alec stopped, embarrassed. He did not know how to say what he wanted to say, now that the time had come to say it.
The shipper looked at him with the old piercing glance that had seemed to bore through Alec so long ago. "Boy," he said, "what are you trying to do—give me those oysters after the way you've toiled and studied and saved to get them?"
"Oh! Captain, if you'll only take them," said Alec, "I'll be the happiest fellow in the world. They are yours—every one you need, even if you need them all."
"God bless you, lad," cried the shipper, blowing his nose violently, and beginning to pace the floor. "How I would like to take them. Why, they'd save me, lad. They'd save me."
"Then take them. That's why I got them, Captain Rumford,—to save you."
The captain turned and faced his assistant. "I will take them," he said. "I will take them. But I'll take them on one condition. I take them as your partner." He hesitated a moment. His face paled a bit. "Maybe you wouldn't want a broken-down old man as a partner," he said, "an old man already behind the times."
"Captain Rumford," said Alec, "you are jesting. Surely you don't mean that you want me as your partner in business. Why, I have no money now, and I have nothing, sir, but a little oyster-bed to put up against your great oyster grounds and your boats. It's a wonderful opportunity, sir, but it wouldn't be fair to you to take it."
"Humph!" said the shipper. "Not fair, when I shall owe to you everything I have in the world. I am the one who is penniless; for without these oysters you offer I am a pauper. Now will you become my partner?"
"Oh, Captain!" said Alec. "Of course I will, but I never dreamed of such a thing."
"Likely not," said the captain. "But I have known for a long time that it was coming."
"What!" gasped Alec.
"Certainly," said the shipper. "I rather suspected it the first time I set eyes on you. I knew it the night you went overboard after Hawley."
"What do you mean?" asked Alec. "I don't understand it at all, sir."
"It's plain enough, lad. A man of my age can't carry on a business forever. I've needed somebody to help me for a long time back and I've been looking for some one, too. Yet I never could find just the man I wanted as a partner. But when I found how clean and true and fine you were, young man, and when I came to know you well enough to understand that I could trust you as I can my own wife, my mind was made up. What do you think I've had you in the office for, anyway? What do you think I've put my business more and more in your hands for? Didn't you ever suspect that I was training you up to carry on the work when I couldn't do it any longer?"
"Captain!" gasped Alec. "I can hardly believe it. To think of my being an oyster shipper—now—when I was only this morning a deck-hand. It just doesn't seem possible."
"Are you sure that you're satisfied with the bargain? Don't you want to draw out before it's too late?"
An idea came to Alec and he stepped quickly toward the shipper. "There is one thing more I'd like," he said, "something I want more than anything else in the world."
The shipper looked at him uncertainly, questioningly, as though displeased. "Name it," he said brusquely.
"Your daughter, sir."
"God bless me!" said the shipper. "You want a lot."
"Hadn't you foreseen that, too?" asked Alec, smiling.
"I wouldn't be truthful if I said no," said the shipper.
"Your answer?" said Alec.
"My answer?" said the shipper. "What about the girl? Don't you think it would be a good thing to ask her?"
"I have," said Alec, blushing. "She's like that man I told you of once."
"That man?" said the shipper, puzzled. "What man? What was his name?"
"Barkis," said Alec.
The shipper laughed and held out his hand. "Take her, son," he said. "You deserve her. And take an old man's blessing. You have saved a gray head from disgrace. Now God bless you."