The Secret of the Reef

Tilting the case in savage anger, Jimmy shook out a number of small gray lumps. They scattered about the floorings, and when he gashed one with his knife the metal cut soft and showed a silvery luster. He dropped the knife and his face grew hard and white. There was tense silence for a moment, and then Jimmy, rousing himself with an effort, flung the scuttle back.

“Hank!” he called, and his voice was strangely hoarse.

It seemed that Moran recognized the urgent tone, for they felt by the change of motion that he was altering the boat’s course, but with characteristic coolness he neglected no seamanlike precaution. Jimmy heard the jib being hauled aback and the mainsheet got in, and she was hove to, rising and falling with an easy lurch, when Moran dropped through the scuttle. He stooped over the box, and after a time looked up with a heavy frown.

“Some crook has worked off a low-down trick on us!” he said.

“On the underwriters first, but that’s no matter,” replied Bethune, who was struggling against the shock. “Slit one of the bags, Jimmy, and let’s see if it’s all the same.”

Jimmy took the bag he had found in the wreck, and when he cut it open a few coarse, yellow grains ran out.

“That looks all right, but there’s not very much of it; and the bag Hank brought up isn’t large,” he said gloomily.

“You want to sew it up before you lose the stuff,” advised Moran, sitting down on the box. “Now, if there’s anything to be fixed, we had better get it settled. She’s carrying all the sail she wants and I can’t leave her long.”

“Are we to go back?” Bethune asked. “We haven’t emptied the strong-room, and what we have left behind may be genuine.”

“Can’t do it,” Moran said grimly. “The way the wind is, the drift ice will be packed solid along the shore to-morrow.”

They sat silent for a while. There was only one thing to be done, but they shrank from indicating it and owning their defeat. At last Jimmy made a gesture of resignation.

“Square away; our course is south,” he said.

Moran nodded silently and went up through the scuttle, and Jimmy threw himself down on the locker while Bethune lighted his pipe. Neither of them spoke until they heard a rattle of blocks and the rush of water along the lee side showed that the Cetacea had swung round.

“Our plans for the winter won’t materialize,” Bethune said; “we’ll be glad to put up at a dollar hotel if we’re lucky enough to get taken on at a mill. However, we can talk about this to-morrow; I don’t feel quite up to it now.”

After a curt sign of agreement, Jimmy pulled a damp sail over him and, although he had not expected to do so, presently went to sleep.

When Moran wakened him to take his turn at the helm it was blowing hard and bitterly cold. Settling himself as far as he could in the shelter of the coaming, he began his dreary watch. Long, white-topped seas raced after the sloop, ranging upon her weather quarter, while the spray she flung aloft beat in heavy showers on Jimmy’s slicker. He could scarcely see her length ahead, and knew that he was running a serious risk if there was ice about; but he thought she would not be much safer if he hove her to, and, fixing his eyes on the compass, he let her go.

After exhausting toil and many hardships, their search had failed, and he was too jaded and depressed to wonder whether it would ever be resumed. They were going back bankrupt; he could not see how they were even to retain possession of the sloop. At the best, they could make no use of her until the spring. The outlook was black, and what intensified the gloom was that Jimmy now recognized that since Bethune had first broached the scheme he had been buoyed up by a faint but strongly alluring hope. He had not allowed his mind to dwell on it, but it had hovered in the background, beckoning him on. After all, there had been a certain chance that their project would succeed, and in that case his share of the salvage should have been sufficient to set him on his feet. There were many openings in western Canada for a man with energy and means enough to give him a start, and Jimmy did not see why he should not prosper. Then when he had begun to make progress he might renew his acquaintance with Ruth Osborne.

He had thought of her often, and looking back on their voyage, he ventured to believe that he had to some extent won her favor. He recollected trivial incidents, odd words and glances, which could not have been altogether without their significance. Could he lift himself nearer her social level, it was not impossible that he should gain her love. The thought of this had driven him stubbornly on.

Now he had failed disastrously. He was going back a ruined man. The best he could hope for was that by stern self-denial and rough work on the wharves or in the sawmills, he might earn enough to discharge his debt to the storekeeper who had trusted him. Beyond that there was nothing to look forward to. He must try to forget Ruth.

Jimmy’s heart sank as he sat shivering at the helm while the bitter spray whirled about him and the sloop lurched on through the darkness, chased by foaming seas.

CHAPTER XIX – A DANGEROUS SECRET

A cold snap had suddenly fallen over the northern half of Vancouver Island, and tall pines and unpaved streets were white with frozen snow. A chilling wind swept round Jaques’ store and rattled the loose windows; tiny icicles formed a fringe about the eaves; but the neat little back room, with its polished lamp and its glowing stove, seemed to Jimmy and his comrades luxuriously bright and warm. Supper had been cleared away, and the group sat about the table discussing what could now be done, after the failure of the second attempt to recover the gold.

Jaques leaned his head on his hand, with his elbow resting on the table; Mrs. Jaques sat opposite him, her eyes fixed intently on Bethune, who was the spokesman for the party. Jimmy, with a gloomy expression, gazed toward the one window, where a frozen pine bough occasionally scraped against the pane with a rasping sound that was heard above the rattle of the sashes. Moran, with a downcast face, sat where the lamplight fell full upon him.

There was silence for a few moments, broken only by the cheery crackle of the stove. Then Jaques spoke.

“We might as well thrash the thing out from the beginning,” he said. “The first matter to be decided is what had better be done with your boat.”

“That raises another point,” asserted Bethune. “What we do with her now depends on our plans for the future, and they’re not made yet.”

“Then suppose we consider that you’re going back to try again in the spring?”

Jimmy looked at Mrs. Jaques, and fancied that her expression was encouraging.

“You’re taking it for granted that we can get out of debt. If such a thing were possible, we’d haul her up and strip her for the winter with the first big tides.”

“Not here,” Jaques said pointedly. “For one thing, she’d be spotted, and you’ll see why you had better avoid that if you’ll listen.”

“I see one good reason now,” Bethune answered with a rueful grin. “You’re not our only creditor, and the other fellow isn’t likely to show us much consideration.”

“Let that go for the present. Do you know any lonely creek some distance off where she’d lie safe and out of sight?”

“I dare say we could find one,” Jimmy replied.

“Then I’m going to talk. Some time after you left, a man from Victoria called on me. Said he was an accountant and specialized on the development of small businesses. He’d undertake to collect doubtful accounts, show his clients how to keep their books, and buy on the best terms, or sell out their business, if they wanted; in fact, he said that some of his city friends thought of trying to make a merger arrangement with the grocery stores in the small Island ports.”

“No doubt it seemed an opportunity for getting a good price for your store,” Bethune suggested.

“I wasn’t keen. Things had improved since you were here, and trade was looking up. However, I showed the man my books, and I saw that he was especially interested when he came to your account. Asked me did I know that you were a remittance man who had forfeited his allowance and that your partner was a steamboat mate who’d been fired out of his ship. I told him that I was aware of it; and he said the chances were steep against your making good. Then he gave me some useful hints and went away.”

“That’s interesting,” Bethune commented. “Did you hear anything more from him?”

“I did; not long ago he sent me an offer for my business as it stands, with all unsettled claims and liabilities. When I got a Vancouver drummer I know to make inquiries, he said that it ought to be a safe proposition – the money was good.”

“Ah! It looks as if somebody thought us worth powder and shot. Did you take his offer?”

“No, sir! I stood off, for two reasons. I knew that the buyers either foresaw a boom in the Island trade, in which case it would pay me to hold on, or they’d some pretty strong grounds for wanting to get hold of you. On thinking it over, I didn’t see my way to help them.”

“Thanks. I wonder whether Mrs. Jaques had any say in the matter?”

“She certainly had,” Jaques admitted fondly. “She thought it wouldn’t be the square thing to give you away, and that to see you through might be the best in the end.”

“We’re grateful; but I’m not sure that she was wise. It’s obvious that there was something crooked about the wreck, and what you have told us implies that some men with money are anxious to cover up their tracks. I suspect they’ve grown richer since the bogus gold was shipped, and might be willing to spend a good sum to keep the matter dark. The fellow who called on you probably knew nothing of this; he’d be merely acting for them on commission.”

None of the others spoke for the next minute. The situation demanded thought, for they were people of no consequence, and they did not doubt that men with means were plotting against them.

“You seem to have got hold of a dangerous secret,” Mrs. Jaques said, breaking the silence.

“An important one, at least,” Bethune agreed. “It might, perhaps, get us into trouble; but our position’s pretty strong. I’ll admit, though, that I can’t see what use we had better make of it.”

Mrs. Jaques watched him closely.

“I suppose it has struck you that you might make a bargain with the people who insured the gold? They’d probably pay you well if you put the screw on them.”

Jimmy started and frowned, but Bethune motioned to him to be silent.

“I wonder whether you really thought we’d take that course, ma’am?” he asked.