The Secret of the Reef

“You didn’t tell me how you happen to be running this boat,” she reminded him with a smile.

“Well, you see, I didn’t want to leave this neighborhood,” Jimmy explained slowly, picking his words. “My partners and I have a plan which we can’t put into execution yet, and it prevents us from going too far from Vancouver. I’m not sure that anything will come of it, but it might. One lives in hope.”

Ruth was relieved by his answer. It had been painful to think of his following some rough occupation, and, worse still, wandering about the city in search of work. Though she felt sorry for him, it made her indignant. She hated to imagine his being content to live among the broken men she had seen hanging about the dollar hotels.

“Mr. Farquhar,” she said, “even in this country it is hard for a man to stand alone, and I think there are times when one is justified in taking a favor from one’s friends. Now, you were very kind on board theEmpress, and I’m sure my father – ”

He made an abrupt movement, and she stopped, and just then the launch plunged her bows into a breaking sea and a shower of spray blew inside the hood.

“It’s impossible,” he said firmly a few moments later. “I suppose I’m stupidly independent; but there are my partners to consider. They expect me to see our plans through. After all, they may turn out as we hope.”

“And then?”

“Then,” he answered carelessly, “I don’t think I’ll carry any more lumber or drive this kind of boat.”

Ruth felt baffled and inclined to be angry. She had had impecunious admirers who did not consider her father’s money a disadvantage. Jimmy’s was, of course, a more becoming attitude, but she thought he adhered to it too firmly. Then, as she remembered his worn look and his threadbare clothes when she met him in Vancouver, she was moved to pity. The trouble was that it could not be shown. She could not offer him sympathy which he did not seem to want.

“I hope that you will succeed in your venture,” she said.

“Thank you,” he answered; “we’ll do our best. Now I must keep a look-out, for there’s a rock in the channel.”

There was strain in his voice, and she was glad to see that his reserve cost him something; but she saw the need for caution when a gray mass of stone loomed out of the darkness close at hand with the sea spouting about it. After that she made no further attempt to talk, and they went on in silence, both sensible of constraint and yet not wishing the voyage at an end.

When they swung round a rocky point, Jimmy stopped the engine, and the launch ran in toward a small wooden pier. Dark pines rolled down to the water, and the swell broke angrily upon the beach and surged among the piles. There was nobody about, but Jimmy caught a trailing rope abreast of a few steps where the water washed up and down, while the launch ground against the weedy timber.

“I’ll get out and help you up,” he said.

Ruth hesitated when she saw him stand knee-deep on the lowest step, holding out his hand; but there was no way of getting ashore dry without his assistance. The next moment he had thrown his arm about her and stood, tense and strung up, trying to preserve his balance. She knew that it would be ridiculous to let herself fall into the sea, and she yielded to his grasp, sinking down into his arms with her head on his shoulder. He staggered as he reached the next slippery step, and she clung closer to him in alarm; then, as she thrilled at the contact, she felt his heart beat and his muscles suddenly grow tense. He caught his breath with a curious gasp, and Ruth knew that it was not caused by the physical effort he had to make. She lay still, not inert but yielding, until he gently set her down out of reach of the water. She was glad that the darkness hid her burning face; and Jimmy stood curiously quiet, with his hand clenched.

No words were needed. Both knew that something had happened to them during the last few moments; something which might be ignored but could not be forgotten. They were no longer acquaintances; the tie of friendship had broken with the strain and could be replaced only by a stronger bond.

Ruth was the first to recover.

“My valise is in the boat,” she said, with a strange little laugh.

For a tense moment Jimmy was silent. Then:

“Yes,” he replied; “I forgot it.” He sprang down and returned with the bag. “I’m afraid you’ll have to send for it and go home alone. The launch would get damaged if I left her here, and I couldn’t take her alongside your landing to-night.”

“It isn’t very far through the woods,” Ruth said, and hesitated a moment before she gave him her hand. “I’m glad I met you, and I will look forward to hearing of your success.”

Jimmy dropped her hand quickly and jumped back on board, but Ruth stood still until the launch vanished into the darkness. Then she started homeward with her nerves tingling and her heart beating fast. She knew what Jimmy felt for her, and she wondered when the time would come when he could avow it openly.

CHAPTER XXV – PAYING A DEBT

Aynsley, sitting near an open window in his office, laid down his pen and looked out with a sense of satisfaction. A great raft of lumber was ready to start down the river, and men were scrambling about it loosing the mooring-chains. The pond was full of logs lately run down on a freshet, and the green flood swirled noisily past them. Its color indicated that the snow was melting fast on the lofty inland ranges, and sweet resinous scents rose from the stacks of cedar where the sunshine struck hot upon them. A cloud of smoke streamed across the long sheds and streaked the pines behind the mill with a dingy smear; and the scream of saws and the crash of flung-out boards filled the clearing. All this suggested profitable activity; and Aynsley’s satisfaction deepened as he glanced at some letters which a clerk handed him. They contained orders, and he foresaw that he would soon have to increase the capacity of the mill. He was thinking over a scheme for doing so when his father was shown in. Clay smiled at his surprise, and sat down in the nearest chair, breathing heavily.

“Why don’t you locate on the ground-floor instead of making people walk up those blamed awkward steps?” he asked.

“I can see better from here what’s going on,” Aynsley explained. “I find it saves me a little money now and then.”

Clay beamed upon him.

“There was a time when I didn’t expect to hear you talk like that. However, you have a pretty good mill-boss and secretary, haven’t you? Do you think you could leave them to look after matters for a little while?”

“I suppose I could,” Aynsley answered dubiously. “They know more about the business than I do; but, for all that, I’d rather be on the spot. Things seem to go wrong unless you look closely after them.”

“They do; you’re learning fast, my son. It looks as if the mill is getting hold of you.”

Aynsley took a plan of some buildings from a drawer.

“What do you think of this?” he asked. “We could keep the new saws busy, but the job would cost about twenty thousand dollars. Could you let me have the money, or shall I go to the bank?”

Clay inspected the plan carefully.

“It’s a good scheme,” he declared. “If trade keeps steady, you’ll soon get the cost back. I could lend you the money easily but perhaps you’d better try the bank. You’ve got to stand by yourself sooner or later; and it seems to me that you’re getting pretty steady on your feet. Guess you’re not sorry now I made you work?”

Aynsley pondered the question. In some respects the business was not to his taste, but in spite of this it was rapidly engrossing his attention. There was a fascination in directing, planning for the future, and bringing about results.

“No,” he said. “In fact, I’m getting a good deal more satisfaction out of it than I expected.”

“That should help you in another matter. You won’t take your not getting Osborne’s girl quite so hard.”

For a few moments Aynsley sat still with knitted brows. It was his habit to be honest with himself, and he saw that to some extent his father was right. He thought of Ruth with deep tenderness and regret, and he believed that he would always do so, but the poignant sense of loss which he had at first experienced had gone. He did not think that he was fickle or disloyal to her, but his new interests had somehow dulled the keenness of his pain.

“I suppose that’s true,” he answered quietly.

“Your real trouble will begin when you see her getting fond of another man. What are you going to do about it then?”

Aynsley winced.

“It’s rather hard to speak about, but, if the fellow’s fit for her, I’ll try to bear it and wish them well.”

“You’ll make good,” Clay commented with dry approval. “But I’ve been getting off the track. You have been sticking to your work pretty closely, and, as things are going, you can leave it without much risk. I want you to take me North for a few weeks in the yacht. The doctor recommends the trip.”

It struck Aynsley that his father was not looking well. He had lost his high color, his face had grown pouchy under the eyes, and he had a strained, nervous look. Aynsley had some business on hand which demanded his personal attention, but he recognized his duty to his father. Then, the North had its fascination, and the thought of another grapple with gray seas, smothering fog, and biting gales appealed to him.

“Very well,” he said. “When do you want to go?”

“As soon as we can get away. Next week, if possible. You had better tell the captain to get his crew and coal on board.”

Aynsley called his secretary, and when Clay left he had arranged to meet him at Victoria in a fortnight.

The time was, however, extended; for on getting the yacht ready for sea some repairs to rigging and engines were found needful, and these took longer than the skipper expected. At last Clay received word that they would be finished in a few days, and he paid a visit to Osborne. Reaching the house in the evening, he sat talking with his host in the library after dinner. A shaded lamp stood on a table laid out with wine and cigars, but this was the only light and beyond its circle of illumination the large room was shadowy. The floor was of polished wood, but a fine rug stretched from near the table to the door, where heavy portières hung. The men spoke in quiet, confidential voices as they smoked.

“The Farquhar gang have separated, and I’ve lost track of them, but if they can scrape up three or four hundred dollars between them I’ll be surprised,” Clay said. “They’re going to have some trouble in fitting out their boat; and she’s a very small thing, anyway. Though the delay has worried me, we should get up there long before they do, and we only need a few days of fine weather to finish the job.”

“There’s some risk in your taking the diver and Aynsley,” Osborne cautioned. “You may have some difficulty in keeping both in the dark.”