By Shore and Sedge - Bret Harte (recommended ebook reader .txt) š
- Author: Bret Harte
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āBut that is all past; he is gone, and Miss Nott does not even know where he is!ā said Renshaw, with a laugh, which, however, concealed a vague uneasiness.
Mr. Nott rose and opened the door carefully. When he had satisfied himself that no one was listening, he came back and said in a whisper, āThatās a lie. Not ez Rosey means to lie, but itās a trick heās put upon that poor child. That man, Mr. Renshaw, hez been hanginā round the Pontiac ever since. Iāve seed him twice with my own eyes pass the cabin windys. More than that, Iāve heard strange noises at night, and seen strange faces in the alley over yer. And only jist now ez I kem in I ketched sight of a furrin lookinā Chinee nigger slinking round the back door of what useter be Ferrersās loft.ā
āDid he look like a sailor?ā asked Renshaw quickly, with a return of his former suspicion.
āNot more than I do,ā said Nott, glancing complacently at his pea-jacket. āHe had rings on his yeers like a wench.ā
Mr. Renshaw started. But seeing Nottās eyes fixed on him, he said lightly, āBut what have these strange faces and this strange manā probably only a Lascar sailor out of a jobāto do with Ferrieres?ā
āFriends oā hisāfeller furrin citizensāspies on Rosey, donāt you see? But they canāt play the old man, Mr. Renshaw. Iāve told Rosey she must make a visit to the old Ranch. Once Iāve got her ther safe, I reckon I kin manage Mr. Ferrers and any number of Chinee niggers he kin bring along.ā
Renshaw remained for a few moments lost in thought. Then rising suddenly he grasped Mr. Nottās hand with a frank smile but determined eyes. āI havenāt got the hang of this, Mr. Nottāthe whole thing gets me! I only know that Iāve changed my mind. Iām NOT going to Sacramento. I shall stay HERE, old man, until I see you safe through the business, or my nameās not Dick Renshaw. Thereās my hand on it! Donāt say a word. Maybe it is no more than I ought to doāperhaps not half enough. Only remember, not a word of this to your daughter. She must believe that I leave to-night. And the sooner you get her out of this cursed ship the better.ā
āDeacon Flintās girls are goinā up in to-nightās boat. Iāll send Rosey with them,ā said Nott with a cunning twinkle. Renshaw nodded. Nott seized his hand with a wink of unutterable significance.
Left to himself Renshaw tried to review more calmly the circumstances in these strange revelations that had impelled him to change his resolution so suddenly. That the ship was under the surveillance of unknown parties, and that the description of them tallied with his own knowledge of a certain Lascar sailor, who was one of Sleightās informantsāseemed to be more than probable. That this seemed to point to Sleightās disloyalty to himself while he was acting as his agent, or a double treachery on the part of Sleightās informants was in either case a reason and an excuse for his own interference. But the connection of the absurd Frenchman with the case, which at first seemed a characteristic imbecility of his landlord, bewildered him the more he thought of it. Rejecting any hypothesis of the girlās affection for the antiquated figure whose sanity was a question of public criticism, he was forced to the equally alarming theory that Ferrieres was cognizant of the treasure, and that his attentions to Rosey were to gain possession of it by marrying her. Might she not be dazzled by a picture of this wealth? Was it not possible that she was already in part possession of the secret, and her strange attraction to the ship, and what he had deemed her innocent craving for information concerning it, a consequence? Why had he not thought of this before? Perhaps she had detected his purpose from the first, and had deliberately checkmated him. The thought did not increase his complacency as Nott softly returned.
āItās all right,ā he began with a certain satisfaction in this rare opportunity for Machiavellian diplomacy, āitās all fixed now. Rosey tumbled to it at once, partiklerly when I said you was bound to go. āBut wot makes Mr. Renshaw go, father,ā sez she; āwot makes everybody run away from the ship?ā sez she, rather peart like and sassy for her. āMr. Renshaw hez contractinā business,ā sez I; āgot a big thing up in Sacramento thatāll make his fortunā,ā sez Iāfor I wasnāt goinā to give yer away, donāt ye see. āHe had some business to talk to you about the ship,ā sez she, lookinā at me under the corner of her pocket handkerchief. āLots oā business,ā sez I. āThen I reckon he donāt care to hev me write to him,ā sez she. āNot a bit,ā sez I, āhe wouldnāt answer ye if ye did. Yeāll never hear from that chap agin.āā
āBut what the devilāā interrupted the young man impetuously.
āKeep yer hair on!ā remonstrated the old man with dark intelligence. āEf youād seen the way she flounced into her stateroom!āshe, Rosey, ez allus moves ez softly ez a spiritāyouād hev wished Iād hev unloaded a little more. No sir, gals is gals in some things all the time.ā
Renshaw rose and paced the room rapidly. āPerhaps Iād better speak to her again before she goes,ā he said, impulsively.
āPārāaps youād better not,ā replied the imperturbable Nott.
Irritated as he was, Renshaw could not avoid the reflection that the old man was right. What, indeed, could he say to her with his present imperfect knowledge? How could she write to him if that knowledge was correct?
āEf,ā said Nott, kindly, with a laying on of large benedictory and paternal hands, āef yer are willinā to see Rosey agin, without SPEAKINā to her, I reckon I ken fix it for yer. Iām goinā to take her down to the boat in half an hour. Ef yer should happenāmind, ef yer should HAPPEN to be down there, seeinā some friends off and sorter promenadinā up and down the wharf like them high-toned chaps on Montgomery Streetāye might ketch her eye unconscious like. Or, ye might do this!ā He rose after a momentās cogitation and with a face of profound mystery opened the door and beckoned Renshaw to follow him. Leading the way cautiously, he brought the young man into an open unpartitioned recess beside her stateroom. It seemed to be used as a storeroom, and Renshawās eye was caught by a trunk the size and shape of the one that had provided Rosey with the materials of her masquerade. Pointing to it Mr. Nott said in a grave whisper: āThis yer trunk is the companion trunk to Roseyās. SHEāS got the things them opery women wears; this yer contains the HE things, the duds and fixinās oā the men oā the same stripe.ā Throwing it open he continued: āNow, Mr. Renshaw, gals is gals; itās natāral they should be took by fancy dress and store clothes on young chaps as on theirselves. That man Ferrers hez got the dead wood on all of ye in this sort of thing, and hez been playing, so to speak, a lone hand all along. And ef tharās anythinā in thar,ā he added, lifting part of a theatrical wardrobe, āthat you think youād fancyāanythinā youād like to put on when ye promenade the wharf down yonderāitās yours. Donāt ye be bashful, but help yourself.ā
It was fully a minute before Renshaw fairly grasped the old manās meaning. But when he didāwhen the suggested spectacle of himself arrayed a la Ferrieres, gravely promenading the wharf as a last gorgeous appeal to the affections of Rosey, rose before his fancy, he gave way to a fit of genuine laughter. The nervous tension of the past few hours relaxed; he laughed until the tears came into his eyes; he was still laughing when the door of the cabin was suddenly opened and Rosey appeared cold and distant on the threshold.
āIābeg your pardon,ā stammered Renshaw hastily. āI didnāt meanā to disturb youāIāā
Without looking at him Rosey turned to her father. āI am ready,ā she said coldly, and closed the door again.
A glance of artful intelligence came into Nottās eyes, which had remained blankly staring at Renshawās apparently causeless hilarity. Turning to him he winked solemnly. āThat keerless kind oā hoss-laff jist fetched her,ā he whispered, and vanished before his chagrined companion could reply.
When Mr. Nott and his daughter departed Renshaw was not in the ship, neither did he make a spectacular appearance on the wharf as Mr. Nott had fondly expected, nor did he turn up again until after nine oāclock, when he found the old man in the cabin awaiting his return with some agitation.
āA minit ago,ā he said, mysteriously closing the door behind Renshaw, āI heard a voice in the passage, and goinā out who should I see agin but that darned furrin nigger ez I told yer ābout, kinder hidinā in the dark, his eyes shinin like a catamount, I was jist reachinā for my weppins when he riz up with a grin and handed me this yer letter. I told him I reckoned youād gone to Sacramento, but he said he wez sure you was in your room, and to prove it I went thar. But when I kem back the dā-d skunk had vamoosedāgot frightened I reckonāand wasnāt nowhar to be seen.ā
Reashaw took the letter hastily. It contained only a line in Sleightās hand. āIf you change your mind, the bearer may be of service to you.ā
He turned abruptly to Nott. āYou say it was the same Lascar you saw before.ā
āIt was.ā
āThen all I can say is he is no agent of de Ferrieresās,ā said Renshaw, turning away with a disappointed air. Mr. Nott would have asked another question, but with an abrupt āGood-nightā the young man entered his room, locked the door, and threw himself on his bed to reflect without interruption.
But if he was in no mood to stand Nottās fatuous conjectures, he was less inclined to be satisfied with his own. Had he been again carried away through his impulses evoked by the caprices of a pretty coquette and the absurd theories of her half imbecile father? Had he broken faith with Sleight and remained in the ship for nothing, and would not his change of resolution appear to be the result of Sleightās note? But why had the Lascar been haunting the ship before? In the midst of these conjectures he fell asleep.
VIIBetween three and four in the morning the clouds broke over the Pontiac, and the moon, riding high, picked out in black and silver the long hulk that lay cradled between the iron shells of warehouses and the wooden frames of tenements on either side. The galley and covered gangway presented a mass of undefined shadow, against which the white deck shone brightly, stretching to the forecastle and bows, where the tiny glass roof of the photographer glistened like a gem in the Pontiacās crest. So peaceful and motionless she lay that she might have been some petrifaction of a past age now first exhumed and laid bare to the cold light of the stars.
Nevertheless this calm security was presently invaded by a sense of stealthy life and motion. What had seemed a fixed shadow suddenly detached itself from the deck, and began to slip stanchion by stanchion
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