Fighting Byng Part 10

I saw the smoke of a train in the north and looked at my watch.

"I am sorry to leave but I must catch this train. It will stop for me."

It was like drawing her back from another world. Visibly disappointed, she started toward the store. "How did you get the train to stop here?

It never did before. The trains run past here as though they were afraid," she said, more as audible thought. "Are you coming back?" she asked wistfully.

"Yes, I will come to-morrow," I replied. Then swung on the train and waved back at the lonely little figure standing beside the track.

I dropped into a seat, thoughtful indeed. If there was anything wrong with that little girl, her father and his business, then my years of training had been wasted. I thought of what the judge told me when he gave me the warrants. On the way back to Key West I formed a plan.

In front of the hotel in Key West I found Ike Barry. "Ike, you sell from a catalog, don't you?"

"Yes--why?"

"If you will loan me your catalog I'll get an order to-morrow, and won't charge you anything but some smokes."

Ike was agreeable and explained the uniform discount on the catalog price as we drank at the soda fountain.

I was hurrying to my room to change back to working clothes, when I saw Scotty of the night before, in the lobby. He was in good clothes and bad liquor, or both. I tried to dodge him until I could get back in working garb but the light of recognition appeared in the little eyes under the deep shelf. He arose and stood near me. I was sure of the liquor then and it did not take long to develop the trouble.

"I had half a slant after you had gone last night that this was your lay," he began, after we were seated in a corner of the bar room.

"It's pretty hard to fool the Scotch," I observed as he poured out Black and White, and watched me fill a gla.s.s with gin as full as the water gla.s.ses beside it. But he did not see me change the gla.s.ses and drink the water instead of the liquor.

"Scotty, you seem troubled. How is it you are all dressed up instead of burning gasoline on the blue?"

"Think I'm in bad," he said, eyeing me closely. "I've had me doots, and your nosing around settles it."

"Scotty--you saw enough last night to know I have a first-cla.s.s license for the U. S. N. I have served," I continued, as he poured out more Black and White, "and can convince you I have worked as a first-cla.s.s mechanic in the German and French s.h.i.+pyards."

"Think you did--I know you did--and all the time was using another tool on paper that went to Was.h.i.+ngton. But I believe you are on the level for all that, and I don't mind telling----"

"Then, Scotty, what's the use of being so tight? Will you tell me something?"

"Weel--weel--maybe," with a vicious glitter as he glanced down at his empty gla.s.s.

"Tell me how you know so well where this man Canby's place is up on the Keys?" I asked, ordering again.

"I might have told you that last night, but ye never asked me, and that has a lot to do with me just now. I don't like the way things are going with Bulow and Company. In fact, I'm downright suspicious, and I'm ready to throw up me job."

"Now you're getting down to it. What do you know about Canby?"

"You see, I've been with this Bulow job near five years. Since the old man died and this manager came in things have not been goin' right.

Some time ago there comes a pink-cheeked, taller-bellied chap, I never did know his name, or just who he is. The firm has always been sore on Canby, because he's been takin' spongers' trade from them. But lately there is somethin' else. And it's him you want to know about?"

"Yes, I especially want to know about him--just now."

"No one seems to know how he got up there on the bare Keys," replied Scotty. "One morning the manager and our big-waisted pink-cheek came down to the dock in a devil of a sweat to get away up the Keys on the Gulf side. When we got opposite Canby's he ordered me to make the little bay and Canby's wharf. It was a bad place to get, drawing as much water as we did, but I got alongside the little wharf inside all right and made fast.

"The two of them looked about a bit, but no one was to be seen. They walked up to the store, went inside for a little while, and then returned. The manager said both Canby and the girl were away and the n.i.g.g.e.r was asleep somewhere. Then they began looking sharp about the little warehouse on the end of the wharf. But it was shut tight.

"The manager asked me for a short pinch bar I always keep and I handed it to 'beer-tub.' He was fussing with it and raised his left hand to hold the padlock while he was prying with his right when of a sudden there was a shot. I could see it came from the second story.

'Beer-tub' came rus.h.i.+ng aboard with the manager, his hand bleeding, scared stiff, like the h.e.l.l of a coward he is, and ordered me to get away quick. The shot had gone clear through his fat, dumpy, soft hand like a skewer through a roast of beef. It's bandaged yet. Now what did he want there? How did he know the Canby boat, the fast one I was telling you about, was at the Tortugas at exactly that time? It was the d.a.m.n girl, they said, who did the shooting--they talk of how she can split a dime with a pistol every shot at a hundred yards."

I yawned, as if my interest was at an end, and, noting his drooping eyelids, got up and walked around for a while until he could regain himself.

CHAPTER XIII

To watch the little "reef girl" among her flowers on the bleached, barren coral key was good for the eyes, and more interesting even than the startling information I got out of the Scotch engineer who had been in the employ of Bulow & Co. for five years. I believed my find so important that I was willing to buy Black and White as long as he would stand it or do anything else to keep his tongue wagging, but this was not a hard task. He felt injured, his loyalty and pride were touched--I only needed to rub the sore spots.

"Scotty, have you been discharged?"

"No, siree; I never was fired in me life," said he, stoutly, his natural caution oozing away.

"But you are thinking of quitting and going back to the Royal Navy?"

"That I am. The Old Highland is attacked, and I'm afraid by such people as this very sc.u.m that's paying me now. I'm going to chance telling ye. I begin to think there's something rotten here," said he grimly, with the stoic anger of a Highlander examining his weapons before a melee chancing his life. I pushed the bottle his way again.

"Scotty, are you willing to open up?"

"Yes--try me."

"Well, it's important for me to know the movement and cargo of all Bulow and Company's s.h.i.+ps, tugs and launches. Doing that is a thousand times more valuable than watching steam gauges in His Majesty's Navy."

A shrewd look came over Scotty's face. He placed a bony forefinger solemnly alongside his nose and his small eyes danced in antic.i.p.ation.

"Have you got a wireless on your launch?" I began.

"No."

"The big steamers have?"

"Yes, all of them."

"Has Bulow and Company a private station anywhere?"

"I think they must have, or they couldn't know so much about the big s.h.i.+ps coming in."

"Good! Now, Scotty, I'm going up to the Keys in the morning, and I'll be down on the dock to-morrow night looking for work again. Stick to your job and see what you can tuck in behind those lamps betimes," I said, edging out of the side door. I felt pretty sure of Scotty. My last glance into his eyes rea.s.sured me.

With Ike Barry's catalog, as big as an unabridged, the train stopped again at Canby's the next morning to let me off.

The little girl, evidently expecting me, smiled from behind a bank of geraniums--a natural, honest, sweet smile. Her face, framed by the flowers, I will remember forever.