The Deaves Affair

Denton nodded.

The policeman turned self-righteously on Evan. "Say, fella, you'd ought to be ashamed of yourself! Don't you know no better than to make trouble for a charity!"

"You've got me wrong, officer," said Evan sweetly. "I didn't make any trouble. It was the other fellows made trouble for me!"

"Yes, they did!" was the scornful rejoinder. "That's what they all say! Well, they're running this show, see? And they don't want you. So beat it!"

Evan did not suppose that any charge would be pressed against him, but even if he were arrested and allowed to go, it would end the trip as far as he was concerned. He decided upon a strategic retreat. A new idea had occurred to him.

"That's all right, old fellow," he said indulgently. "Don't apologise." He turned to go.

The policeman turned a shade pinker than his wont. "Don't you get gay, young fella! I ain't apologising to the likes of you!"

"My mistake," said Evan, laughing over his shoulder. "Keep the change!"

As he passed out of hearing the blue-coat was saying sagely to Denton: "He's a bad one, all right. You can see it."

When Evan reached the shore end of the pier, he was cut off from the view of Denton and the policeman by a pile of freight which rose between. Unobserved by them, he made his way out on the next pier. This pier like its neighbour was occupied by craft of all kinds, canal-boats, lighters, scows, etc. Evan came to a stop opposite the Ernestina, and looked about him.

At his feet lay a large power-boat. She had a skiff tied to her rail. A burly harbourman, the skipper evidently, sat on the forward deck with his chair tipped back against the pilot-house and his hat pulled over his nose.

"How are you?" said Evan affably.

"How's yourself?" was the non-committal reply.

"I see you've got a skiff tied alongside," said Evan.

"Remarkable fine eyesight!" said the skipper ironically.

"I'll give you a dollar if you'll put me aboard that steamboat yonder."

"Why the Hell don't you walk aboard by the gangway?"

"Well, you see it's a kind of joke I want to put up on them. I want them to think they've gone off and left me, and then I'll show myself, see?"

"I never see nothing as don't concern me."

"I'll make it two dollars."

"I ain't running my head into no noose."

"Oh, I assure you it isn't a hanging matter."

"Nothin' doin', fella."

"Well, look here; you be looking the other way, and I'll take the skiff, see? Then you won't know anything about it. You can recover it with one of the other skiffs in the slip here."

"How do I know you won't make off down the river in my skiff?"

"All you've got to do is start your engine."

"Nothin' doin'!"

"You get the two dollars first of course."

The skipper let his chair fall forward and slowly rose. He looked past Evan. "Hey, Jake!" he cried to one on the pier. "Wait a minute! I got somepin' t' say to yeh." He stepped to the stringpiece.

Evan thought he had failed – until he saw a hand poked suggestively behind the skipper. Into it he hastily thrust two dollars. The skipper nonchalantly went his ways. Evan stepped aboard the power boat, skinned over the rail, and untied the skiff.

A few strokes of the oars brought him alongside the Ernestina. A steamboat of this type has a wide overhang bounded by a stout timber called the "guard." When Evan stood up in his skiff his shoulders were at the level of the guard. But as the ledge it made was only three inches wide and the gunwale rising above it provided no hand hold, it was a problem how to draw himself up.

He finally drew the skiff down to the paddle-box where the interstices of the gingerbread work enabled him to get a grip. As he pulled himself up he thrust the skiff away with his foot. He climbed back along the ledge to her stern gangway and vaulting over the rail found himself on the narrow deck encircling the stern, which is in marine parlance the "quarter."

All the business of the vessel was on the pier side, and this part was deserted. The sliding door leading to the entrance hall was closed and Evan took care to keep out of the range of vision of anyone who might look out through the panes. He determined to stay where he was until she got under way. A warning whistle had already been sounded. He made himself comfortable on a camp stool.

He chuckled to think of the sensation his appearance would cause. True, they might seize him and put him down in the hold again; they were strong enough. But at least this time they would not take him by surprise, and he doubted anyway if they would attack him before the children. Evan was strong with the children. It might precipitate a riot on board.

The Ernestina began to back out of the slip without anybody having stumbled on Evan's hiding-place. By this time the skipper of the power boat had recovered his skiff, and was watching Evan stolidly. Evan waved him a farewell.

Evan had no notion of risking all he had gained by venturing out too soon. He sat tight, entertaining himself as best he could with the unbeautiful panorama of Long Island City, Greenpoint (which is anything but green nowadays) and Williamsburgh. They had passed under the far-flung spans of the three bridges, rounded Governor's Island and headed down the Bay before he ventured to open the sliding door into the entrance hall.

At the moment there was no one in the hall who knew him, nor upon the stairway. He mounted unhindered. At the top he almost collided with Domville, the meekest of Corinna's brethren.

"How are you?" said Evan affably.

Little Domville stood as if rooted to the deck, his face a study in blank dismay. Then he turned without a sound, and scurried like a rabbit down the saloon and out on the after deck, presumably to spread the dreadful news. Evan chuckled.

Others in the saloon had recognised Evan. "Mister! Mister! Tell us a story! You know. About the robbers in the cave. They was just going to shoot Three-Fingered Pete for treachery!"

Evan reflected that he could hardly do better than take a leaf out of Corinna's book, and protect himself with a rampart of children. So he sat himself down and began, while they pressed close around:

"Well, Three-Fingered Pete was just about ready to give up when a shot was heard at the mouth of the cave, and a clear young voice cried, 'Hold! in the name of the U. S. cavalry!'"

The door to the after deck opened and Domville returned with Corinna and Dordess, the cynical one. Evan watched them without appearing to, and laughed inwardly at their amazed expressions. His heart beat fast at the sight of the red-haired girl. He told himself he hated her now – but perhaps hate can accelerate the pace of a heart too.

For a moment the three remained by the door in consultation, then Corinna and Domville went out on deck again, while Dordess came down the saloon, not towards Evan but on the other side. Evan was not going to let him pass in silence.

"How are you?" he called cheerfully.

Dordess sent him an ironical and courteous greeting. He had more savoir faire than the younger males of Corinna's family. He passed out of sight behind the engine trunk.

"Gone to get the others," thought Evan.

But Dordess presently returned alone, and nothing happened. He went back to the after deck. As the minutes passed, Evan grew anxious, not knowing what they had in store for him, but he kept the story going.

Suddenly he saw the hump of Staten Island sweep around into view through the stern windows, and the Statue of Liberty passed by on the port side. A few minutes before they had left it to starboard. Wails began to be raised in the cabin. "Oh! We're going back again! What's the matter? I don't want to go back!" No need for Evan to ask himself then what they were going to do.

He saw his opportunity when Corinna appearing in the saloon, stopped to pacify a crying child near the door. Dordess was on the other side of the saloon. Going to Corinna's side Evan said softly: