Caleb West, Master Diver Part 6

Although the young rigger had been but a short time on the captain's force, he had employed every leisure moment of it in making himself agreeable to the wives of the men. To Betty his attentions had been most marked.

He had saved her the best of the long thin shavings that curled from his spoke-shave when he was planing the huge derrick masts on the wharf. And when she came to gather them as kindling for her stove, he had done everything in his power to win her confidence, detaining her in talk long after the other women had departed with their loads.

When he answered her sally to-day, his white teeth gleamed under his curling mustache.

"Captain wants me," he said, "to fit some bands round the new derricks. We expect 'em over from Medford to-day, if it clears up."

"An' there ain't no doubt but what ye'll get yer job, Billy," burst out the captain; "it's breakin' now over Crotch Island," and he bustled again out of the open door, the men who had followed him turning back after him.

Carleton waited until he became convinced that no part of his immaculate personality burdened Betty's mind, and then, a little disconcerted by her evident preference for Lacey, joined Sanford in the next room. There he renewed his complaint about the enrockment block having been placed without a notification to him, and it was not until Sanford invited him on the tug for a run to Medford to inspect Mrs. Leroy's new dining-room that he became pacified.

As Mrs. Bell and the schoolmistress, Miss Peebles, were still in the pantry, a rattling of china marking their progress, the kitchen was empty except for Lacey and Betty. The young rigger, seeing no one within hearing, crossed the room, and, bending over Betty's chair, said in a low tone, "Why didn't you come down to the dock yesterday when we was a-hoistin' the stone on the Screamer? 'Most everybody 'longsh.o.r.e was there. I had some chips saved for ye."

"Oh, I don't know," returned Betty indifferently.

"Ye ought'er seen the old man yesterday," continued Lacey; "me an' him held the guy, and he was a-blowin' like a porpoise."

Betty did not answer. She knew how old Caleb was.

"Hadn't been for me it would'er laid him out."

The girl started, and her eyes flashed. "Bill Lacey, Caleb knows more in a minute than you ever will in your whole life. You shan't talk that way about him, neither."

"Well, who's a-talkin'?" said Lacey, looking down at her, more occupied with the curve of her throat than with his reply.

"You are, an' you know it," she answered sharply.

"I didn't mean nothin', Betty. I ain't got nothin' agin him 'cept his gittin' you." Then in a lower tone, "You needn't take my head off, if I did say it."

"I ain't takin' your head off, Billy." She looked into his eyes for the first time, her voice softening. She was never angry with any one for long; besides, she felt older than he, and a certain boyishness in him appealed to her.

"You spoke awful cross," he said, bending until his lips almost touched her curls, "an' you know, Betty, there ain't a girl, married or single, up 'n' down this sh.o.r.e nor nowheres else, that I think as much of as I do you, an' if"-

"Here, now, Bill Lacey!" some one shouted.

The young rigger stepped back, and turned his head.

Captain Joe was standing in the doorway, with one hand on the frame, an ugly, determined expression filling his eyes.

"They want ye down ter the dock, young feller, jes' 's quick 's ye kin get there."

Lacey's face was scarlet. He looked at Captain Joe, picked up his hat, and walked down the garden path without a word.

Betty ran in to Aunty Bell.

When the two men reached the swinging-gate, Captain Joe laid his hand on Lacey's shoulder, whirled him round suddenly, and said in a calm, decided voice that carried conviction in every tone, "I don't say nothin', an' maybe ye don't mean nothin', but I've been a-watchin' ye lately, an' I don't like yer ways. One thing, howsomever, I'll tell ye, an' I don't want ye ter forgit it: if I ever ketch ye a-foolin'

round Caleb West's lobster-pots, I'll break yer d.a.m.ned head. Do ye hear?"

CHAPTER VI

A LITTLE DINNER FOR FIVE

Sanford's apartments were in gala-dress. Everywhere there was a suggestion of spring in all its brightness and promise. The divans of the salon were gay with new cus.h.i.+ons of corn-yellow and pale green.

The big table was resplendent in a new cloth,-a piece of richly colored Oriental stuff that had been packed away and forgotten in the Venetian wedding-chest that stood near the window. All the pipes, tobacco pouches, smoking-jackets, slippers, canes, Indian clubs, dumb-bells, and other bachelor belongings scattered about the rooms had been tucked out of sight, while books and magazines that had lain for weeks heaped up on chairs and low shelves, and unframed prints and photographs that had rested on the floor propped up against the wall and furniture, had been hidden in dark corners or hived in their several portfolios.

On the table stood a brown majolica jar taller than the lamp, holding a great ma.s.s of dogwood and apple blossoms, their perfume filling the room. Every vase, umbrella jar, jug, and bit of pottery that could be pressed into service, was doing duty as flower-holder, while over the mantel and along the tops of the bookcases, and even over the doors themselves, streamed festoons of blossoms intertwined with smilax and trailing vines.

Against the tapestries covering the walls of the dining-room hung big wreaths of laurel tied with ribbons. One of these was studded with violets, forming the initials H. S. The mantel was a bank of flowers.

From the four antique silver church lamps suspended in the four corners of the room swung connecting festoons of smilax and blossoms.

The dinner-table itself was set with the best silver, gla.s.s, and appointments that Sanford possessed. Some painted shades he had never seen before topped the tall wax candles.

Sanford smiled when he saw that covers had been laid for but five.

That clever fellow Jack Hardy had carried his point,-all those delicate questions relating to the number and the selection of the guests had been left to Mrs. Leroy. She had proved her exquisite tact: Bock had been omitted, there were no superfluous women, and Jack could have his tete-a-tete with Helen undisturbed. It was just as well, Sanford thought. With these two young persons happy, the dinner was sure to be a success.

Upon entering his office, he found that the decorative raid had extended even to this his most private domain. The copper helmet of a diving-dress-one he sometimes used himself when necessity required-had been propped up over his desk, the face-plate unscrewed, and the hollow opening filled with blossoms, their leaves curling about the bra.s.s b.u.t.tons of the collar. The very drawing-boards had been pushed against the wall, and the rows of shelves holding his charts and detailed plans had been screened from sight by a piece of Venetian silk exhumed from the capacious interior of the old chest.

The corners of Sam's mouth touched his ears when Sanford looked at him, and every tooth was lined up with a broad grin.

"Doan' ask me who done it, sah. I ain't had nuffin to do wid it,-wid nuffin but de table. I sot dat."

"Has Mrs. Leroy been here?" Sanford asked, coming into the dining-room, and looking again at the initials on the wall. He knew that Jack could never have perfected the delicate touch alone.

"Yaas 'r, an' Major Slocomb an' Mr. Hardy done come too. De gen'lemen bofe gone ober to de club. De major say he comin' back soon's ever you gets here. But I ain't ter tell nuffin 'bout de flowers, sah. Ma.s.sa Jack say ef I do he brek my neck, an' I 'spec's he will. But Lord, sah, _dese_ ain't no flowers. Look at dis," he added, uncovering a great bunch of American Beauties,-"dat's ter go 'longside de lady's plate. An' dat ain't ha'f of 'em. I got mos' a peck of dese yer rose-water roses in de pantry. Ma.s.sa Jack gwine ter ask yer to sprinkle 'em all ober de table-cloth; says dat's de way dey does in de fust famblies South."

"Have the flowers I ordered come?" Sanford asked, as he turned towards the sideboard to fill his best decanter.

"Yaas 'r, got 'em in de ice-chest. But Ma.s.sa Jack say dese yer rose-water roses on de table-cloth's a extry touch; don't hab dese high-toned South'n ladies ebery day, he say."

Sanford reentered the salon and looked about. Every trace of its winter dress too had gone. Even the heavy curtains at the windows had been replaced by some of a thin yellow silk.

"That's so like Kate," he said to himself. "She means that Helen and Jack shall be happy, at any rate. She's missed it herself, poor girl.

It's an infernal shame. Bring in the roses, Sam: I'll sprinkle them now before I dress. Any letters except these?" he added, looking through a package on the table, a shade of disappointment crossing his face as he pushed them back unopened.

"Yaas 'r, one on yo' bureau dat's jus' come."

Sanford forgot Jack's roses, and with a quick movement of his hand drew the curtains of his bedroom and disappeared inside. The letter was there. He seldom came home from any journey without finding one of these little missives to greet him. He broke the seal and was about to read the contents when the major's cheery, buoyant voice was heard in the outside room. The next instant he had pushed the curtains aside and peered in.

"Where is he, Sam? In here, did you say?"

Not to have been able to violate the seclusion of Sanford's bedroom at all times, night or day, would have grievously wounded the sensibilities of the distinguished Pocomokian; it would have implied a reflection on the closeness of their friends.h.i.+p. It was true he had met Sanford but half a dozen times, and it was equally true that he had never before crossed the threshold of this particular room. But these trifling drawbacks, mere incidental stages in a rapidly growing friends.h.i.+p, were immaterial to him.

"My dear boy," he cried, as he entered the room with arms wide open, "but it does my heart good to see you!" and he hugged Sanford enthusiastically, patting his host's back with his fat hands over the spot where the suspenders crossed. Then he held him at arm's length.

"Let me look at you. Splendid, by gravy! fresh as a rose, suh, handsome as a picture! Just a trace of care under the eyes, though. I see the nights of toil, the hours of suffering. I wonder the brain of man can stand it. But the building of a lighthouse, the illumining of a pathway in the sea for those buffeting with the waves,-it is gloriously humane, suh!"