Jim Spurling, Fisherman Part 22

There was a short scuffle, and the gun was wrenched from Percy's grasp.

"Let me alone, Spurling! I'll kill that brute before he's ten minutes older!"

"Oh no, you won't!" replied Jim, coolly.

Breaking open the weapon, he extracted the sh.e.l.ls and dropped them into his pocket.

"How many of these did you bring out?"

"Never you mind!"

"Oh, well, I know how many I had. I can count 'em. They're too dangerous to be lying around loose where a hothead like you can get hold of 'em."

He took the gun into the cabin. In half a minute he was out again.

"Two missing! Hand 'em over, Whittington!"

"I won't!"

Three steps, marvelously quick for so deliberate a fellow, brought Spurling to the other's side. An iron grip compressed Percy's shoulder.

"Will you give 'em to me or shall I have to take 'em? Say quick!"

The strong, unwavering grasp brought Whittington to his senses.

Thrusting his hand into his pocket, he brought out the sh.e.l.ls. "Here they are!"

Jim bestowed them carefully inside his coat. His manner changed instantly.

"Now, Percy," said he, "pull yourself together! I don't wonder you were sore at the ram. What you got was enough to rile anybody; it would have set me hunting rocks myself. But you'll have to draw the line a long way this side of a gun. You can't blame the brute; it's his nature. And you can't blame us for laughing--we couldn't help it; you'd do the same in our place. The thing's over now. Forget it! Let's eat a good dinner, and all take hold on the fish this afternoon. We've made a whopping big catch, not much under three thousand pounds, I should say--enough, at any rate, to keep us all busy till dark. Let's bury the hatchet, handle and all, so deep that it'll never be dug up again! Shake on it!"

Whittington ignored Jim's outstretched hand. Trembling with humiliation and anger, he had all he could do to keep the tears from his eyes.

Turning away without replying, he walked eastward along the beach to the ledges. He clambered over these until he gained a spot out of sight of the cove, then threw himself down to think. His hunger had disappeared; food would have choked him.

There he lay till the middle of the afternoon, smoking moodily. When he returned to camp at three he had decided on his course of action.

All the others were aboard the _Barracouta_, at work on the fish.

Spurling hailed Percy. "Want to lend a hand, Whittington?"

"No!" refused Percy, shortly.

Entering the cabin, he made a dry lunch on cold biscuit and soda-crackers, then threw himself on his bunk and began reading. The afternoon dragged on. At five Filippo came in and began to peel potatoes and slice ham for supper; soon they were frying in the spider. The smell was pleasant in Percy's nostrils.

Half an hour later in came the others, tired and hungry. The fish had been finished. All sat down at the table, Percy, uninvited, drawing up his soap-box with the rest. n.o.body said anything to him, but he ate with a relish.

The meal over, Spurling turned to him with a serious face. It was plain he had something of importance on his mind.

"Whittington," said he, "I've been talking matters over with Budge and Throppy, and we're all agreed it's time we came to an understanding.

Things can't go on in this way any longer. To put the matter in a nutsh.e.l.l, we can't afford to have you living off us and not working.

You've got to do your share or quit. That's all there is to it."

Percy reddened with wrath. n.o.body but John P. Whittington had ever dared to speak like that to him before.

"What do you mean by making such talk to me?" he demanded. "You needn't be afraid but you'll be well paid for every meal I've eaten in this old shack!"

"That isn't the point at all," said Spurling. "I gave your father fair warning what it would be when you came out here. We're not running any Waldorf!"

Percy gave a derisive laugh.

"And that's no dream!" he interjected, sarcastically.

Spurling paid no attention to the interruption.

"We're out here for work," he continued. "That means you as well as everybody else. I didn't count on you for much, but you haven't done even that."

"I've known for the last week you were trying to freeze me out,"

observed Percy. "It's been cold enough about this camp to make ice."

"Well, whose fault has it been?"

"You treat that little Dago better than you do me!"

"What of it? He's earning his salt, and a good deal more; and that's something your best friend couldn't accuse you of doing."

Percy's temper was fast getting the better of him.

"I'm not going to stop here to be kicked round by a bunch of Rubes like you," he snarled. "I won't stand for it any longer. I'll give you ten dollars to set me over on Matinicus to-night."

There was a dangerous flicker in Spurling's eyes, but his voice was steady.

"You can go, and welcome, on our next trip, day after to-morrow; but we can't break into our regular work to set you across."

"No? Say twenty, then! And that's nowhere near what it'd be worth to me to be shut of you and your whole gang!"

"I'm beginning to think I did wrong in stopping that fight at Vinalhaven yesterday. Guess you needed all you got and more, too!"

In Percy's wrathful condition the reference to the pummeling he had received from Jabe came like a dash of acid in a raw wound. A flood of fury swept away his judgment.

"You beggar!" he shouted. "You dollar-squeezer! I'll teach you to talk to me, you--!"

He flung himself on Spurling with clenched fists.

So sudden and unexpected was the onslaught that there was but one thing for Jim to do, and he did it, expeditiously and accurately. Percy went over backward and fell like a log. For a moment he lay motionless, then staggered up, feeling of his face.

"What hit me?" he inquired, dazedly.

"I did--right on the point of the jaw. Sorry I had to. Feel better?"